shop in Romeo and Juliet-"a beggarly account of empty boxes."

"How unlucky we are in the weather," exclaimed Whiston, "this sharp cutting east wind, with its fall of sleet, will ruin the house, as for me I cannot play to a thin house."

"It is very unfortunate," I responded, "although the saying runs, its an ill wind that blows nobody good,' I cannot, I own, see who is to benefit by this awful storm." James Smith who seldom, if ever, lost his perfect equanimity of mind, began to hum the lines of Shakspeare,

"Blow, blow thou wintry wind
Thou art not so unkind
As benefits forgot."

adding, "and I fear in this instance we shall have the overflow outside instead of inside the theatre, but what's going on? there seems a considerable excitement among the boatmen at the pier."

We hastened our steps, and upon reaching the spot, saw that some extraordinary event had occurred.

"What has happened?" enquired Smith addressing a weather beaten fisherman, who encased in tarpauling coat and trowsers, with a "Sou-wester" on his head was busily employed in preparing his boat.

Why, there's a h'ingyman just coming in, with troops on board, she must have had some roughish weather, for she's carried away her mizen."

Anxious to ascertain further particulars, we walked down to the Custom House stairs, where we soon learnt that the vessel was the 'Araxes' from Calcutta, with detachments from regiments in that Presidency; by this time, Barham, who had been in daily expectation of a relation in this ship, joined us, and through the courtesy of one of the heads of the department, with whom he was slightly acquainted, he and I were rowed off to the ship. Major Daniell who was the senior officer on board introduced Ingoldsby and myself to the principal passengers, and hearing that the theatre was open, the majority agreed to land, dine on shore the first time for four months, and attend the performance. The detachments had

recevied orders to remain on board all night, and proceed to Chatham in the morning.

"Well after all," I exclaimed as we joined our friends on the stairs, "the old adage which we mistrusted this morning has been verified 'the ill wind has blown us some good,' Mr. Barham has been requested to secure five-andtwenty places in the boxes for this evening, and I have no doubt that we shall have some of the non-commissioned officers, men, and crew, in the pit and boxes."

"What glorious news," responded Whiston, "after being cooped up for nearly four months in that heavy sailing vessel, how charmed the passengers will be once again to tread English ground."

"And attend a representation of England's bard," chimed in James Smith, "but ought we not to apprise the fair benificiaire ?"

"Not for the world," replied Barham.

""Twill give her wonder great as her delight to see I have stolen a line from some one I fear so great an addition to her audience, and if by any unforeseen circumstance the officers

should be prevented attending, it would cause a great disappointment."

"Let us then keep our own counsel," said James Smith, " and now the sooner I send to secure the places the better."

I pass over our dinner, and my dressing for the Moor, in which I received every assistance from my companions, even to the colouring of my visage, merely remarking that I nearly frightened the chambermaids into fits, when in crossing the passage, my black, or rather dark brown face peered out of my regimental cloak, and that I scared away two urchins at the street door, one of whom exclaimed,

"I'm blessed if they an't got Guy Fawkes in that 'ere fly."

"No it an't, you fool," responded the other, "it's the black doll from Mrs. Jephson's, newly painted and dressed."

Upon reaching the theatre, which in order to give Whiston time to dress, I had done long before any of the company were assembled, I asked the call boy, who was trimming the

lamps, to show me to the Green Room, of which Mr. Granby had so pompously talked.

"It an't much of a place," said the urchin, "a sort of make shift, but we are limited for space, the door on your right opens into it, you'll find it lighted up, Sir."

I entered the room, which was about eight foot square, a stage chandelier with three tallow candles in it, hung from the ceiling, while a wretched ill-shaped grate emitted more smoke than heat, a few ricketty chairs, a table, and a cracked looking-glass, with the silver worn off in many places, formed the furniture. After a time, the performers gradually dropped in, one by one, but it was not until the smiling face of Mrs. Orger appeared, that I felt at my ease.

"What a perfect dress," she exclaimed, "it's a fac-simile of the one Kean wore, when he first took London by storm at old Drury."

"Would that a shred of his mantle could descend upon me," I responded. Whiston

now entered, and certainly no one ever looked the part better than he did, both his costume and mine seemed to create a strong feeling of envy