There have
been actors, however, who have refused to accept the innocent
semblance of vinous liquor supplied by the management, and especially
when, as part of their performance, they were required to simulate
intoxication. A certain representative of Cassio was wont to carry to
the theatre a bottle of claret from his own cellar, whenever he was
called upon to sustain that character. It took possession of him too
thoroughly, he said, with a plausible air, to allow of his affecting
inebriety after holding an empty goblet to his lips, or swallowing
mere toast-and-water or small beer. Still his precaution had its
disadvantages. The real claret he consumed might make his intemperance
somewhat too genuine and accurate; and his portrayal of Cassio's
speedy return to sobriety might be in such wise very difficult of
accomplishment. So there have been players of dainty taste, who,
required to eat in the presence of the audience, have elected to bring
their own provisions, from some suspicion of the quality of the food
provided by the management. We have heard of a clown who, entering the
theatre nightly to undertake the duties of his part, was observed to
carry with him always a neat little paper parcel. What did it contain?
bystanders inquired of each other. Well, in the comic scenes of
pantomime it is not unusual to see a very small child, dressed perhaps
as a charity-boy, crossing the stage, bearing in his hands a slice of
bread-and-butter. The clown steals this article of food and devours
it; whereupon the child, crying aloud, pursues him hither and thither
about the stage. The incident always excites much amusement; for in
pantomimes the world is turned upside-down, and moral principles have
no existence; cruelty is only comical, and outrageous crime the best
of jokes. The paper parcel borne to the theatre by the clown under
mention enclosed the bread-and-butter that was to figure in the
harlequinade. "You see I'm a particular feeder," the performer
explained. "I can't eat bread-and-butter of anyone's cutting. Besides,
I've tried it, and they only afford salt butter. I can't stand that.
So as I've got to eat it and no mistake, with all the house looking at
me, I cut a slice when I'm having my own tea, at home, and bring it
down with me."

Rather among the refreshments of the side-wings than of the stage must
be counted that reeking tumbler of "very brown, very hot, and very
strong brandy-and-water," which, as Dr. Doran re