They were right who had said that Spofforth had put forth all his power in the new piece, and had been even more than usually personal. The characters represented were, an old peer, wigged, rouged, and snuff-box bearing, one of those wonderful creations which have never been seen on the English stage since Farren left it; his young wife, a dashing countess, more frequently in a riding-habit than anything else, with a light jewel-handled whip, with which she cut her male friends over the shoulders or poked them in the ribs,--as is, we know, the way of countesses in real life; a dashing young cavalry-officer very much smitten with the countess, excellently played by Dacre Pontifex, who admirably contrived to do two things at the same time--to satisfy the swells by his representation of one of their class,--"Doosid good thing; not like usual dam cawickachaw," they said,--and simultaneously to use certain words, phrases, and tones, to fall into certain attitudes and use certain gestures, all of which were considered by the pittites as a mockery of the aristocracy, and were delighted in accordingly. It being an established fact that no play at the Parthenium could go down without Mugger the low comedian, and there being in the "scandal in high life," which Spofforth had taken for his plot, no possible character which Mugger could have portrayed, people were wondering what would be done for him. The distribution of the other characters had been apparent to all ever since it was known that Spofforth had the story in hand: of course Farren would be the marquis, and Miss Amabel the marchioness (Spofforth had lowered his characters one step in rank, and removed the captain from the Guards to the cavalry--a great stroke of genius), and Pontifex the military lover. But what could be done for Mugger? The only other character in the real story, the man by whom the intrigue was found out, and all the mischief accidentally caused, was a simple old clergyman, vicar of the parish close by my lord's country estate, and of course they could not have introduced a clergyman on to the stage, even if Mugger could have played the part. This was a poser. At first Mugger proposed that the clergyman should be turned into a Quaker, when he could appear in broad-brim and drab, call everybody "thee," and snuffle through his nose; but this was overruled. At last Spofforth hit upon a happy idea: the simple old clergyman should be turned into a garrulous mischief-making physician; and when Mugger appeared at the back of the stage, wonderfully "made up" in a fluffy white hat, and a large shirt-frill protruding from his waistcoat, exactly like a celebrated London doctor of the day, whose appearance was familiar to all, the shouts of delight rose from every part of the house. This, with one exception, was the hit of the evening; the exception was when the captain, in a letter to his beloved, writes, "Fly, fly with me! These arms once locked round you,