one of the old
Greek tragedies, I, as sponsor for the conception, rehearsing the
performers beforehand and upon the final day personally superintending
the performance; stage managing it, as the cant term runs. Although I
gave great pains and care to the production, it did not prove in all
essential regards an unqualified success. The audience, made up of
friends and patrons of Fernbridge and of townspeople, manifested toward
the last a regrettable lack of interest. Some betrayed impatience, some
fitfully slumbered in their seats, some even laughed outright at periods
fraught with solemn meaning. One could but feel that one's efforts went
unappreciated. But scarce an hour ago, as I read sundry immortal
passages of the Bard, I said to myself:

"Why not offer this year, as our dramatic _piece de resistance_, the
balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet? Happy thought! Why not indeed? And
now tentatively to cast it?"

As one well qualified for the part, I naturally pictured myself as
Romeo, clad appropriately in doublet, hose and feathered cap, but
without my glasses. Casting about in my mind for a suitable Juliet, the
name of Miss Hamm occurred to me.

Reading from the book I proceeded to enact this most touching scene,
alternately speaking in my own voice as Romeo and then imparting to
Juliet's line a more dulcet tone and a softened inflection such as my
copartner in the rendition would employ. Carried away by the beauty of
the thought, I had progressed as far as those exquisite lines--Juliet's
lines in this instance:

_O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon,_
_That monthly changes in her circled orb,_
_Lest that thy love prove likewise variable--_

when I became cognisant that for some moments past an insistent rapping
against the outer door of my rooms had been in progress, and then as I
came to a pause I heard through the keyhole the voice of Miss Tupper,
our matron, inquiring whether anything serious was the matter.

"I thought I heard somebody carrying on in there as though they might be
raving or something?" she added in her inept fashion of speech.

Much annoyed, I answered with some acerbity, bidding her kindly to be
gone. She withdrew, grumbling as she went. When I had assured myself, by
a glance out of my door, that she had entirely departed, I undertook to
proceed with the scene, but as a consequence of this untoward
interruption was quite out of spirit with the thing.