name to the doorkeeper, and with an air of importance passed onward, followed by his pale trembling wife and daughters. Arrived at the wings, they stood for a few minutes listening to the rehearsal, which had already commenced.

"Oh, dear Julius," said Emma, in alarm, "I hope I've not been wanted!"

"In what scene do you begin?"

"The third," was the reply.

"I wish I could see the manager!" said Julius, anxiously peering toward the manager's table, at which, under a blaze of gas, sat a large handsome woman, whose rich dress made poor Emma shrink back into the dark entrance, ashamed of her own mean habiliments.

"What scene is on ?" asked Julius, addressing one of the actors as he made his exit from the stage.

"The first," was the answer.

"Thank you," said Julius, in his mildest tone of voice. "Will you please to point out to me Mr. Murden, the manager?"

"Law, bless you!" rejoined the actor, in a nasal tone; "you'll not see Mr. Murden until rehearsal's half over. He's an invalid--at least he fancies himself such,—and his wife humours him in all his fancies. He never makes his appearance here till near twelve o'clock. She's the manager; if you have any business you must go to her; for the governor, when he comes, will be too ill to listen to you."

"She's the manager, then," said Emma, glancing towards the gaily-dressed lady.

"Manager and manageress," replied the actor, with a laugh; "she doubles the parts. Oh, she's a smart one, I can tell you!"

"Silence in the wings," said Mrs. Murden, in a tragic tone. "Where's the call-boy?" she added, addressing the prompter. "Where's that ass, Pops?"

"Here, ma'am," said a dwarfish man, with a red head and remarkably broad shoulders.

"Can't you keep silence in those wings?" asked the lady. "I tries, mum," returned the call-boy; "inderfatigabley tries, mum. Night and day I indeavours to keep thim blessed wings in peace and quiet, but my labours isn't of no use in that respect; they pays no 'tention to my vice, not they."

"The people or the wings?" demanded Mrs. Murden. "In course, the people."

"Why didn't you say the people, then?"

There," muttered Pops, in a complaining tone,

that's allus what I gets when I takes extra pains to render my conversation legerable and correct."

"What are you muttering about?" asked the lady, giving the man a push. "Do keep silence in the wings, or I'll stop

rehearsal !"

"Silence, ladies and gen'lmen!" bawled Pops, rushing into the first entrance. Somebody in the dark applied a sharp rap upon the call-boy's hat, which suddenly covered his eyes. Oh, my noo 'at! my noo 'at!" cried Pops, returning to the manager's table; "it's spoiled, mum! Oh, Mrs. Murden, I never were in sich an howdacious theatre in all my born days," and the man almost whimpered over his crushed beaver.

The prompter whistled, and the scene changed.

There was a pause.

"Well!" said Mrs. Murden, turning to the prompter; "what are we waiting for? What are we waiting for, Mr. Grumby?"

"Winifred Hazledean, the maiden of the cottage," replied the prompter, taking huge pinches of snuff.

"Winifred!" repeated she, sneezing violently,-" drat your snuff-taking propensities! you've set me sneezing, and my eyes are in a state of fiery inflammation. Go away, and shake yourself! Pah! nasty stuff!"

"All right, ma'am: after this scene I'll attend to your orders!" growled old Grumby.

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Now, now; where's the maiden of the cottage?" screamed Mrs. Murden, rapping the table. "Pops, have you called her?"

Poor Pops was caring for his broken beaver, and paid no attention to the lady's question. A cuff, bestowed by no

very gentle hand, fell upon his ear.

"Will you heed your business, sir?" said Mrs. Murden, angrily.

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Yes, mum; who's wanted?"

"Look to your call, and don't ask me!"

"I lost my call when somebody distryed my 'at!" wailed

Pops disconsolately. "Oh, dear; I wish I weren't so small! Nobody respects me-my size makes every individual treat me ill with impurity. Please, Mr. Grumby, who am I to call ?"

"The maiden. Go to the green-room, quick!" said the prompter, smuggling a pinch of snuff into his nostrils.

"Lor, lor, what a life is mine!" soliloquized poor Pops, as he hastened to the green-room. "More kicks than halfpence appears to be my lamentable lot in this wale of tears. She don't care how hard she thumps--not she, indeed! I wish she didn't wear rings, though.-The maiden!" shouted he, thrusting his head into the green-room.

An old lady rose, and followed Pops to the stage.

"Well; what do you want, Miss Mendham ?" asked the manageress, addressing the old lady.

"I was called."

"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Murden; "what confusion is here! you were called?

"Most distinctly!" replied Miss Mendham.

"You precious imp!" cried Mrs. Murden, catching hold of the collar of Pops's coat; "you were told to summon the maiden! how dare you insult or joke with the ladies of my company?"

"I did call the maiden!" returned Pops; "I'm sorry if I've made a mistake."

"No mistake at all!" rejoined the old lady, in a severe tone; "my character is not like some people's: my character is unimpeachable !" and with a withering look, she made her exit.

"Go again," said Mrs. Murden, releasing Pops's collar, "and now see if you can perform your errand properly. Call Madame Cardonizzi."

"Yes, mum," and Pops again proceeded to the greenroom, in which he at last discovered the maiden of the cottage.

Emma, who had not been introduced to Mrs. Murden, made her entrance, and the business of the scene commenced. "Humph! she's tolerably pretty!" said Mrs. Murden, aside to the prompter.

"Too thin, ma'am ; nothing of her," rejoined Grumby. "True, she's of the lathy style," said Mrs. Murden, with a

shrug; "but most women, nowadays, are made up; they have no natural dignity whatever."

"Few can boast of a figure such as Mrs. Murden's," observed the prompter.

Grumby, you snuffy old thing, I'll not listen to your rubbish," simpered the lady, in a more pleased tone.

"Fat, fair and forty'

"No such thing, Grumby! I flatly deny the 'forty."" Grumby shook his head.

Well, you do take tremendous liberties with me!"

"I must take something, to make up for my small salary," retorted the prompter. Oh, Sarah, Sarah! I know your

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age to a day. Wasn't I at your christening?"

"How can I tell?" snapped the lady. "Do hold your tongue! I don't want to have my age trumpeted all over the world. Murden, though only thirty, looks older than I-for I've worn well; you, yourself, say I have. Then, what does it signify about one's age? A woman is ever young while she retains her beauty."

When Emma had finished her scene, Mrs. Murden went up to her and bade her welcome: she said she hoped Madame Cardonizzi liked her part-she was very sorry Mr. Murden was not at rehearsal, but he was a poor suffering invalid, who was little fitted to do anything,-in fact, she really did not know what would have become of him, had he not married her. She believed Madame had a charming little girl, who danced divinely-at least, so the Honeybuns had informed Mr. Murden.

Emma said she had two daughters, who both danced very prettily; they were in the green-room-if Mrs. Murden pleased she would fetch them.

Then Julius joined his wife, who presented him to Mrs. Murden. The lady made a thousand apologies for the absence of her husband, and for the cold manner in which the Cardonizzis had been received. If people could only guess what business she had to transact, and how many refractory persons she had to manage, they would make due allowances for her apparent lack of courtesy, and her sometimes brusque behaviour.

Julius hastened to the green-room, to fetch his children; and in a few seconds Mrs. Murden was lavishly caressing

them. The lady was loud in her praise of the little girls: they were lovely, she said; she had never in her whole life looked upon such exquisite faces; she really was puzzled to say which of the too angels she admired most; but Mr. Murden would soon decide for her; his judgment on points of feminine beauty was quite extraordinary. Madame must take care of the little darlings, for they were precious gems.

'Rina and Clotilda were lost in speechless astonishment at the fine lady's rustling silks and glittering trinkets. The heavy gold chain with its numerous and mysterious appendages the massive brooch-pendant, ear-rings, rich bracelets, and many finger-rings, all were observed by the children, whose awe for the magnificent lady increased as they gazed upon her sparkling presence.

eyes.

At last, 'Rina gathered courage to look into Mrs. Murden's How large, dark, and brilliant they were, with their long sweeping lashes !—and her hair too, how black and glossy it was ! Her complexion, which was like unto a ripe peach, surprised the child. With pain in her heart, she compared it with her mother's pale, worn countenance; instinctively she shrank from the bold, handsome woman, and gently placed her arm around Emma's fragile figure.

Clotilda, who was seldom noticed by anybody, felt fascinated by the lady; and before the rehearsal was over Mrs. Murden and little Clo', were tolerable friends.

Of a sudden the business of the stage was broken up by the entrance of a tall man, swathed round in a tartan scarf. Mrs. Murden sprang up, dashed past the people in her way, and flung her arms around the man's shoulders. "My Edwin! why did you venture out?" asked she, in silvery accents.

Why, my precious! I couldn't exist away from you any longer," replied Mr. Murden, in a drawling tone, and sighing deeply.

"Ah, flatterer!" said she, drawing her husband towards the table; "I hope Kitty attended to your wants, and gave you the draught as prescribed."

"Yes, my angel."

She loosened his throat-wraps, which half enveloped his face, and shook the snow off his hat.