slow, or a sham-battle in the Fifteen Acres. The
winter was now drawing to a close--already some little touch of spring
was appearing; as our last play for the season was announced, every
effort to close with some little additional effort was made; and each
performer in the expected piece was nerving himself for an effort beyond
his wont. The Colonel had most unequivocally condemned these plays; but
that mattered not; they came not within his jurisdiction; and we took no
notice of his displeasure, further than sending him tickets, which were
as immediately returned as received. From being the chief offender, I
had become particularly obnoxious; and he had upon more than one
occasion expressed his desire for an opportunity to visit me with his
vengeance; but being aware of his kind intentions towards me, I took
particular care to let no such opportunity occur.

On the morning in question, then, I had scarcely left my quarters, when
one of my brother officers informed me that the Colonel had made a great
uproar, that one of the bills of the play had been put up on his door
--which, with his avowed dislike to such representations, he considered as
intended to insult him: he added, too, that the Colonel attributed it to
me. In this, however, he was wrong--and, to this hour, I never knew who
did it. I had little time, and still less inclination, to meditate upon
the Colonel's wrath--the theatre had all my thoughts; and indeed it was a
day of no common exertion, for our amusements were to conclude with a
grand supper on the stage, to which all the elite of Cork were invited.
Wherever I went through the city--and many were my peregrinations--the
great placard of the play stared me in the fact; and every gate and
shuttered window in Cork, proclaimed, "THE PART OF OTHELLO, BY MR.
LORREQUER."

As evening drew near, my cares and occupations were redoubled. My Iago
I had fears for--'tis true he was an admirable Lord Grizzle in Tom Thumb
--but then--then I had to paint the whole company, and bear all their
abuse besides, for not making some of the most ill-looking wretches,
perfect Apollos; but, last of all, I was sent for, at a quarter to
seven, to lace Desdemona's stays. Start not, gentle reader--my fair
Desdemona--she "who might lie by an emperor's side, and command him
tasks"--was no other than the senior lieutenant of the regiment, and who
was a great a votary of the jolly god as honest Cassio himself. But I
must haste