We brought one half year to a grand conclusion with theatricals in Seventh. Our preparations we had to make on the sly, as we thought it probable that, if the authorities were to hear of our proceedings, they would put a stop to them altogether; however, whether they knew of it or not, they never interfered, and it came off with great _éclat_. After considerable debate, the pieces selected were “The Children in the Wood,” and “Alfred.” We formed our stage by removing all the bedding from the beds on one side of Chamber, and laying the bed-boards[4] on them for a floor. A cord was fastened across the room a few feet from the wall, from which lengths of paper-hangings were suspended to give it some appearance of a room, and (the toys being removed) to give room for the actors to pass from one side to the other without being seen by the audience; in front of all a green drop, or rather draw-curtain, was suspended. [Illustration: THE PLAY IN SEVENTH.] I have but a vague recollection of the plot of the first piece; but I remember that the _prima donna_ was nearly six feet high. Her figure was not quite so well suited to the part as her head, and she was obliged to wear an ample shawl to conceal some little irregularities in her costume behind. I was a ruffian myself, and, after a sanguinary combat, was slain by somebody who objected to my cutting the throats of the children. It were as well the ruffian was killed, as I had to appear as a drunken servant in the second act; and I fancy that I cut rather a distinguished appearance in a pair of Mr Oades’s (the butcher) top-boots, which he kindly lent me for this particular occasion. The scene was supposed to be a wood; and to convey this idea to the audience, two faggots were put upon the stage. In this scene I was, in my turn, attacked by two ruffians, and, snatching a stick from a faggot, proceeded to defend myself. Somehow or other we all got entangled in my extempore weapon; and a bed-board giving way in the heat of the struggle, we all disappeared from the sight of the astonished audience. Just at this moment, in rushed the gentleman who had killed me in the first act, but whose duty it was now to defend me with the heroic cry, “What! two to one!” and there is no knowing what he might not have done if there had been any one for him to operate on; as it was, he had the stage to himself, and the curtain was drawn amid roars of laughter. How it all ended, I forget exactly; but it was no tragedy, and the children ultimately came in for ten thousand a-year, or were found to be heirs to a dukedom, or something pleasant of that kind. The after piece, “Alfred,” was performed in the front of the great fireplace, where the king could toast his cakes conveniently. He was wrapped up in a surplice; but underneath he was very gorgeously got up, in a gold helmet, striped Jersey, tight drawers, and Wellington boots, with a large silk banner pinned on to his royal shoulders.