sheet of gauze, flitted across the stage like a shadow,
amidst the breathless silence of the house, to be followed presently,
on the falling of the curtain, by peal after peal of excited applause.

A humorous story of a stage ghost is told in Raymond's "Life of
Elliston," aided by an illustration from the etching-needle of George
Cruikshank, executed in quite his happiest manner. Dowton the actor,
performing a ghost part--to judge from the illustration, it must have
been the ghost in "Hamlet," but the teller of the story does not say
formally that such was the fact--had, of course, to be lowered in the
old-fashioned way through a trap-door in the stage, his face being
turned towards the audience. Elliston and De Camp, concealed beneath
the stage, had provided themselves with small ratan canes, and as
their brother-actor slowly and solemnly descended, they applied their
sticks sharply and rapidly to the calves of his legs, unprotected by
the plate armour that graced his shins. Poor Dowton with difficulty
preserved his gravity of countenance, or refrained from the utterance
of a yell of agony while in the presence of the audience. His lower
limbs, beneath the surface of the stage, frisked and curvetted about
"like a horse in Ducrow's arena." His passage below was maliciously
made as deliberate as possible. At length, wholly let down, and
completely out of the sight of the audience, he looked round the
obscure regions beneath the stage to discover the base perpetrators of
the outrage. He was speechless with rage and burning for revenge.
Elliston and his companion had of course vanished. Unfortunately, at
that moment, Charles Holland, another member of the company,
splendidly dressed, appeared in sight. The enraged Dowton, mistaking
his man, and believing that Holland's imperturbability of manner was
assumed and an evidence of his guilt, seized a mop at that moment at
hand immersed in very dirty water, and thrusting it in his face,
utterly ruined wig, ruffles, point-lace, and every particular of his
elaborate attire. In vain Holland protested his innocence and
implored for mercy; his cries only stimulated the avenger's exertions,
and again and again the saturated mop did desperate execution over the
unhappy victim's finery.

Somewhat appeased at last, Dowton stayed his hand; but in the meantime
Holland was summoned to appear upon the stage. The play was
proceeding--what was to be done! All was confusion. It was not
possib