[Illustration: NOT THE CORRECT WAY OF PUDDING IT.
MASTER GUSSY. Oh, boohoo! What a shame to go throwing plum-pudding about like that!]
[Illustration: THE HUMANIZING INFLUENCE OF PANTOMIME.
DEPRAVED CHILD. Oh, mamma, do look, the clown’s been and run a red-hot poker right through that policeman--_isn’t it fun?_]
[_The call-boy has just called that distinguished amateur_ Muddle, _who is doing_ Iago _for the first time_.]
MUDDLE. Very odd! Knew every word of it this morning, too, but I’ll be hanged if I can remember how it begins!]
WRITTEN FOR EASTER, SANCTIONED BY THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN, BUT REJECTED BY ALL THE THEATRES.
(_A dark night. The curtain rises, and discovers nobody on the stage._)
(_He is answered by a hollow voice which is inaudible._)
ULPHO. I do not feel comfortable, nor as I once did. (_Sighs._)
(_The stage gradually fills till Ulpho is forced forward to the footlights, which go out. The crowd parts asunder suddenly, and a figure comes slowly forward._)
(_Figure smiles contemptuously and puts his hands in his breeches’ pockets. He then addresses Ulpho silently, and, after hesitating more than once, breaks down at last altogether._)
(_Still darker night. Graves spring their rattles and watchmen open. Fate is seen sitting in the background in the shape of a policeman. A glow-worm roars, and the side-scenes shake perceptibly. The moon, which has been slowly rising, falls suddenly down._)
ULPHO. Nothing on earth shall ever induce me.
(_He takes his cap from his head, and hangs it carefully on a hat-stand. In a fit of desperation he begins to tear his hair from his head. Emma sinks into a swoon, and leaving Ulpho in the centre of the stage, she goes off at both wings._)
(_The morning breaks, and is already in many pieces. The first rays of the sun are reflected in several hundred dewdrops which are rocking themselves in the gently waving brush-wood. Two masks drop from the trees and rush on each other’s swords._)
1ST MASK. Lady, may I ask if you have any present intention of giving up the ghost, if so, perhaps I could----?
EMMA. I am much obliged to you, but I have already made my own arrangements----
(_A pair of jack-boots are carried across the stage._)
EMMA. Are those, perhaps, the mortal remains of my Ulpho?