His line is genteel comedy--his father's, coal and potato.

He _does_ Alfred Highflier in the last piece, and very well he'll do it--at the price.

The party of gentlemen in the opposite box, to whom he has just nodded, are friends and supporters of Mr.
Beverley (otherwise Loggins), the _Macbeth_ of the night.

You observe their attempts to appear easy and gentlemanly, each member of the party, with his feet cocked upon the cushion in front of the box! They let them do these things here, upon the same humane principle which permits poor people's children to knock double knocks at the door of an empty house--because they can't do it anywhere else.

The two stout men in the centre box, with an opera-glass ostentatiously placed before them, are friends of the proprietor--opulent country managers, as he confidentially informs every individual among the crew behind the curtain--opulent country managers looking out for recruits; a representation which Mr.
Nathan, the dresser, who is in the manager's interest, and has just arrived with the costumes, offers to confirm upon oath if required--corroborative evidence, however, is quite unnecessary, for the gulls believe it at once.
The stout Jewess who has just entered, is the mother of the pale, bony little girl, with the necklace of blue glass beads, sitting by her; she is being brought up to 'the profession.' Pantomime is to be her line, and she is coming out to-night, in a hornpipe after the tragedy.