, about fourteen inches
long, gorgeously arrayed in crimson, purple, emerald-green, blue, and
orange draperies, and loaded with gold and tinsel, and sparkling
stones and spangles, all doubled in splendour by the reflection of a
mirror in the background. The figures, set in motion by the same
machinery which grinds the incomprehensible overture, perform a drama
equally incomprehensible. At the left-hand corner is Daniel in the
lion's den, the lion opening his mouth in six-eight time, and an angel
with outspread wings, but securely transfixed through the loins by a
revolving brass pivot, shutting it again to the same lively movement.
To the right of Daniel is the Grand Turk, seated in his divan, and
brandishing a dagger over a prostrate slave, who only ventures to rise
when the dagger is withdrawn. Next to him is Nebuchadnezzar on all
fours, eating painted grass, with a huge gold crown on his head, which
he bobs for a bite every other bar. In the right-hand corner is a sort
of cavern, the abode of some supernatural and mysterious being of the
fiend or vampire school, who gives an occasional fitful start, and
turns an ominous-looking green glass-eye out upon the spectators. All
these are in the background. In the front of the stage stands
Napoleon, wearing a long sword and cocked hat, and the conventional
gray smalls--his hand of course stuck in his breast. At his right are
Tippoo Saib and his sons, and at his left, Queen Victoria and Prince
Albert. After a score or so of bars, the measure of the music suddenly
alters--Daniel's guardian angel flies off--the prophet and the lion
lie down to sleep together--the Grand Turk sinks into the arms of the
death-doomed slave. Nebuchadnezzar falls prostrate on the ground, and
the fiend in the gloomy cavern whips suddenly round and glares with
his green eye, as if watching for a spring upon the front row of
actors, who have now taken up their cue and commenced their
performance. Napoleon, Tippoo Saib, and Queen Victoria, dance a
three-handed reel, to the admiration of Prince Albert and a group of
lords and ladies in waiting, who nod their heads approvingly--when
br'r'r! crack! bang! at a tremendous crash of gongs and grumbling of
bass-notes, the fiend in the corner rushes forth from his lair with a
portentous howl. Away, neck or nothing, flies Napoleon, and Tippoo
scampers after him, followed by the terrified attendants; but lo! at
the precise nick of time, Queen Victoria draws a long