his way to honor. He became Chief Justice
of the King's Bench, and a peer of the realm. Towards the close of his
honorable career Lord Tenterden attended service in the Cathedral of
Canterbury, accompanied by Mr. Justice Richardson. When the ceremonial
was at an end the Chief Justice said to his friend--"Do you see that old
man there amongst the choristers? In him, brother Richardson, behold the
only being I ever envied: when at school in this town we were candidates
together for a chorister's place; he obtained it; and if I had gained my
wish he might have been accompanying you as Chief Justice, and pointing
me out as his old school-fellow, the singing man."

PART VI.

AMATEUR THEATRICALS.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ACTORS AT THE BAR.

Some years since the late Sergeant Wilkins was haranguing a crowd of
enlightened electors from the hustings of a provincial borough, when a
stentorian voice exclaimed, "Go home, you rope-dancer!" Disdaining to
notice the interruption, the orator continued his speech for fifty
seconds, when the same voice again cried out, "Go home, you
rope-dancer!" A roar of laughter followed the reiteration of the insult;
and in less than two minutes thrice fifty unwashed blackguards were
roaring with all the force of their lungs, "Ah-h-h--Go home, you
rope-dancer!" Not slow to see the moaning of the words, the unabashed
lawyer, who in his life had been a dramatic actor, replied with his
accustomed readiness and effrontery. A young man unacquainted with mobs
would have descanted indignantly and with many theatrical flourishes on
the dignity and usefulness of the player's vocation; an ordinary
demagogue would have frankly admitted the discourteous impeachment, and
pleaded in mitigation that he had always acted in leading parts and for
high salaries. Sergeant Wilkins took neither of those courses, for he
knew his audience, and was aware that his connection with the stage was
an affair about which he had better say as little as possible. Instead
of appealing to their generosity, or boasting of his histrionic
eminence, he threw himself broadly on their sense of humor. Drawing
himself up to his full height, the big, burly man advanced to the marge
of the platform, and extending his right hand with an air of authority,
requested silence by the movement of his arm. The sign was instantly
obeyed; for having enjoyed their laugh, the multitude wished for the
rope-dancer's explanation. As soon as the si