_Ghost_ (_with a glance at W.S._). Ah, the Governor here already! Still, I may have my chance as well as he! I gave the plot of _Hamlet_! Why shouldn't I have another shot? (_To P.A.-M._)-- But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. _P.A.-M._ (_eagerly_). The very thing for a melodrama. Delighted to make your acquaintance--hem--in the Spirit! _Master W.S._ Nay, good Master Player, this is scarcely business! If anything in _that_ line is to be done, I should do it. (_To Ghost of HAMLET's Father_). Begone, Sirrah! _Ghost._ Nay, this is professional jealousy! (_To P.A.-M._). I find thee apt-- [_A book falls, and Master WM. SHAKSPEARE and Ghost of HAMLET's Father vanish together._ _P.A.-M._ (_opening his eyes_). Was I dreaming? (_With a recollection of "The Red Lamp"_) I wonder! [_Left wondering._ * * * * * TAKING A SIGHT AT RINGANDKNOCK. (_BY RUDDIER STRIPLING._) After the roughness of the Atlantic, in which to my taste there is far too much water moving about, I stepped on to America with considerable relief. I was quite satisfied, after that excellent dinner, the first I had enjoyed since Liverpool slid away eastward, to walk aimlessly through the streets till I fell into the arms of a broad-shouldered, pug-nosed, Irish New York policeman. I remember no more till New York passed away on a sunny afternoon, and then I fell asleep again and slept till the brakeman, conductor, Pullman-car conductor, negro porter and newsboy somehow managed to pull me out into the midnight temperature of 80 below freezing. It was just like having one's head put under the pump, but it did not quite revive me, for I mistook my host in his sleigh for a walrus, and tried to harpoon him with my umbrella. After matters had been explained, we went off, at least I did, and never woke up till I fell out into a snow-drift, just as we turned a corner at our journey's end. [Illustration: "Ta-ra-ra-Boom!"]