nt that sticks is of that
performance of Boucicault's "Jessie Brown, or the Siege of Lucknow," in
which real soldiers acted as supernumeraries, and having been too well
treated beforehand and being moved by the play, they became so hot that
they attacked the _mutineers_ not only with oaths but with clubbed
muskets; and while blood was flowing and heads being cracked in sickening
earnest on one side of the stage, a sudden wall-rending howl of derisive
laughter rose from that part of the theatre favored by soldiers. I saw
women holding programmes close, close to their eyes, and knew by that
that something was awfully wrong.

The Scotch laddies were pouring over the wall, coming to the rescue of
the starving besieged. I looked behind me. The wall, a stage wall, was
cleated down the middle to keep the join there firm, and no less than
three of the soldiers had had portions of their clothing caught by the
cleats as they scaled the wall. The cloth would not tear, the men were
too mad to be able to see, and there they hung, kicking like fiends
and--well, the words of a ginny old woman, who sold apples and oranges in
front of the house, will explain the situation. She cried out, at the top
of her voice: "Yah! yah! why do ye no pull down yer kilties, instead o'
kickin' there? yah! yer no decent--do you ken?" and the curtain had to
come whirling down before the proper time to save the lives of the men
being pounded to death, and the feelings of the women who were being
shamed to death.

A surgeon had to attend to two heads before their owners could leave the
theatre, and after that an officer was kind enough to come and take
charge of the men loaned to the manager.

Then I bade the people, whom I had found so pleasant, good-by--Mr. Louis
Aldrich arriving as I was about leaving, keen, clever, active, full of
visions, of plans, just as he is to-day. I and my little dog-companion
made our way to New York. A lady and gentleman, traveling acquaintances,
advised me to go to the St. Nicholas, and as all hotels looked alike to
me I went there. My worst dread was the dining-room. I could not afford
to take meals privately, yet how could I face that great roomful of
people alone! At last I resolved on a plan of action. I went up to the
head waiter--from his manner an invisible crown pressed his brow; his
eyes gazed coldly above my humble head, his "Eh?--beg pardon!" was
haughty and curt, yet, believe it or not, when I told him I was quit