Within the Parisian theatres the visitor may derive some amusement from observing the operations of the _claqueurs_, who are employed at the principal establishments to augment the enthusiasm of the audience. The men who compose this body of professional applauders appear to belong to the artisan class; they number from forty to fifty, that is they are about a hundred hands all told. They occupy the front row of seats in the second or third gallery, so that to observe them and their movements it is necessary to occupy a place in one of the galleries. Their leader sits in their midst, ever ready at the points marked for him by author or manager to give the signal which ‘brings down the house.’ As the moment arrives when _the_ bon-mot shall be uttered, the _chef_ breathes upon his hands, then stretches them slightly upwards, while he at the same time looks right and left along his ranks. This is equivalent to ‘Attention’ or ‘Prepare to fire a volley.’ Each man is now at the ‘ready,’ and waits anxiously upon the _chef_. When the _mot_ is uttered, he brings his hands together with a frantic wave, and the others simultaneously with him make a very respectable, even enthusiastic show of applause. At the end of a song the leader starts the cry _Ploo, ploo_ (plus, signifying more), in which all join; this, which is equivalent to our ‘Encore,’ sounds in the stranger’s ears more like hooting than aught else; but it is no doubt as welcome to the French actor as a good British cheer is to an English one. This little army, like all others, has its awkward squad. One evening at the ‘Renaissance’ we observed the _chef_ to become very uneasy on account of one who was exceedingly remiss in his duty; not only was the amount of applause when given small in volume, but once when the signal was given he entirely neglected to comply with it. This was gall and wormwood to the leader, who really seemed a very earnest hard-working man in his profession; so after finishing the round of applause, he ‘went for’ that awkward man, remonstrated with him, and even gave him on the spur of the moment, a lesson on the correct method of clapping hands. After this the pupil shewed marked improvement, and by the end of the play performed his duty in such a satisfactory manner as promised well for his future advancement in this handy profession. The effect of this pernicious system upon the audience is very different, we should think, from what was anticipated when it was first organised; for finding that the applause is supplied by the establishment, just as it supplies programmes or turns on the gas, the audience feel that they are relieved from all obligations in the matter, and unless stirred by an irresistible influence, seldom dream of applauding at all. THE RIVAL LAIRDS.