Old Hill bore up pretty well when I began
sparring in a mincing way at an imaginary
"hackney-coach fellow," but when I went on to
express the extreme torture of the cut over the
nail of my little finger, and then, after an
imaginary collapse, proceeded to come to, and
felt in my tail-pocket for my smelling-bottle and
housewife, he fairly bent double with excessive
laughter, and the tears rolled from his eyes.

All of a sudden a blundering noise in Mr.
Shackle's office—the next room, which was only
separated from us by a door, the upper half of
which was cut away and hung with green baize
—made us stop in the performance.

Thelluson put down a glass of hot spiced ale
he had just raised to his lips, and turned
distinctly pale. Old Hill listened, but, the ale
having slightly got into his head, was defiant,
and void of suspicion. "Go on, go on, Fribble,"
he said; "it's only the rats. I often hear them
when I'm stopping here late."

We did the duel scene. I felt the old
intoxication of stage triumphs come over me. I
revelled in the part. As for Thelluson, he got
through very fairly, but he wanted a good deal
of prompting, and old Hill had never got quite
the right place.

"I tell you what," whispered Thelluson,
"Hill's had nearly enough."

"Let's have some more egg-hot," suggested
old Hill; and we agreed, especially as he waved
an empty pewter pot, and proposed to pay for
everything. "But you've been an actor. Don't
tell me," he said, with a smile meant to be
intensely shrewd.

"If you say I have, I suppose it's no use
denying it," I said.

I took Thelluson into a corner. "Now,"
said I, "I am going to make old Hill's hair
stand on end. I mean to leap through that
door, if you'll first get him into conversation
while I go in and clear the chairs, and lay down
the sofa-cushion to drop on. As I return, I'll
whip off the baize curtain, and then I'll say,
'Houp-là!' I have been a professional
harlequin, as you know, Sam, so you need not fear a
failure."

Our plans succeeded perfectly. Thelluson
got old Hill, who had become indistinct and
dogmatic, into a confused dispute about harlequins.
Old Hill insisted on it that they leaped from
spring-boards and were caught on feather-beds.
In the mean time I had stolen into the room,
arranged everything for my leap, and twisted
up the curtain. All at once I interfered angrily
in the dispute.

"What do you say?" said the old man,
turning his vacant eyes on me.

"Say," said I, "that any one can do a
harlequin's jump; look here, it's nothing." And I
buttoned my coat, put myself together, and
began rolling my head in the orthodox way.

"For Heaven's sake!" cried Hill.

"He'll kill himself!" roared Thelluson.

"He's dreadful," sobbed Hill; "stop him!"

I ran, gave a spring up, passed through the
door, and alighted headforemost against some
soft perpendicular substance, which yielded to
me, and fell with me, with a scream, just as a
roar of applause came from Thelluson.

"Thieves! thieves!" I shouted. "Help!
help!" And I grappled with the substance,
that proved to be a man. In rushed Sam and
dragged us both out. To our surprise and
horror it was Blakeney, gasping for breath.
After him strode in Mr. Fox, who was stonier
than ever. Old Hill dropped the can of ale over
Blakeney, who lay prostrate.

"This is pretty well, gentlemen," said Mr.
Fox; "very well indeed. These are nice goings
on in a respectable office. Mr. Hill, I am
surprised, sir, at your connivance with these
scoundrels."

"Sh-coundrel," said Hill, irritated into
courage. "Sh-coundrel yourself—spy—no c'nivance
—jolly companionsh everyone. For he's a jolly
good fellow—chorus, for he's—-"

"As for you, idle and abandoned reprobates,"
said Mr. Fox, snapping round on us, "I
discharge you both this very evening. Do not let
me see you cross my threshold again, and let me
publicly thank you, Mr. Blakeney, for the
vigilance and sagacity that has at last enabled me
to discover the machinations of this low actor
and his degraded companion."

"As well go in for a sheep as a lamb. I owe
Fox something," said Thelluson, and commenced
to square up to Mr. Fox.

But I drew him away. "You only anticipate
me, Mr. Fox, by a few hours," I said. "I have
already accepted a very remunerative post in a
much more honest and pleasant employment."

I never exactly discovered how Blakeney
contrived to hear of our private theatricals; but
I found afterwards, and was glad to find, that
old Hill was so useful to the firm, that, poor old
fellow, he had soon gone back to Messrs. Fox,
Shackle, and Leggit's, his exceptional
indiscretion being forgiven.

As for Sam, he was a sharp shrewd fellow,
well known in Chancery-lane, and he soon got
another place. While, as for myself, I date
from that memorable night the commencement
of a successful life as low comedian on the
London stage, under the new name of—-. But
here my story ends.

FRENCH ETIQUETTE.

WHETHER with individuals or with nations,
nothing tends so much to the continuance of
friendship as a good understanding. Etiquette
was invented so to discipline and set in order
meetings and assemblies, whether great or
small, that they may not be disorderly mobs.
If etiquette were identical and uniform all
the world over, social intercourse would roll
on anti-friction wheels. All would go right,
or nearly so. Frivolous grounds of ill will
and quarrel would be greatly diminished. No
one would have the right to take offence at a
form or a usage which is stringent on every-
body without exception. As it is, half the