distant beat of the
paddles or propellers of an approaching or receding steamboat. Newport,
the gay world of the summer metropolis of fashion, loomed up in the
distance, looking as beautiful as an alliance of art with nature could
make a favored location. This was the Mecca toward which those on board
directed their eyes and thoughts.

Evening came, and with it a refreshing breeze. Once more the _Gem_ was
under headway, and shortly after sundown the little vessel was safely in
port, her anchor dropped, and the sails snugly furled. As soon as
everything was made shipshape on board, Handy and a member of the
company rowed ashore to see how the land lay from a stroller's point of
view as well as to select a site for the tent.

CHAPTER VI

"What strange things we see and what queer things we do."
--'TIS ENGLISH, YOU KNOW.

It was the height of the season. The colony was alive with the wealthy
and fashionable ones of the republic. Thousands of bright lights shone
through the clearness of the purple night, and music filled the summer
air with melodious sound. Life, apparently devoid of care, and pleasures
with youth, beauty and excitement, were blended in harmonious ensemble.
Handy took in the entire situation. He read, and read correctly, too,
the constituency to which he was about to appeal. An ordinary theatrical
company going there and hiring a hall, he concluded, would be nothing
out of the usual run, and the chances are the performance would fall
flat, stale and unprofitable. The possibility for the success of the
tent, on account of its novelty, appealed strongly to his optimistic
imagination. He was determined to carry the place by storm. A vacant lot
close to one of the fashionable drives was secured for the scene of the
thespian operations.

"Here pitch we our tent," said Handy, "and don't you make any bloomin'
error about it. 'Tis the boss place. Elegant surroundings; magnificent
locality, easy to reach, and lots of room for carriages to come and go!"

It may, perhaps, be as well to mention that the date selected for the
entertainment was Saturday, just two nights ahead. For that same night a
grand operatic concert was announced, under the patronage of an aspiring
clique, in another part of the town. Good artists, though somewhat
ancient, were billed to take part in it. The craze for the antique then,
as now, had no such potency as may be positively relied upon.
Well-seasoned age has its di