not abide anything low. So much for the ignorant, ill-mannered section of the audience. It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving’s Malvolio was somewhat _too_ much in earnest, and therefore was liable to be accepted by the audience as a serious person, actually in love with his mistress, which with his eccentricities and oddities became an impertinence. Whereas, as Lamb says, by imparting a quaint humorousness, the audience sees the absurdity of the jest and is amused. Elia, indeed, always insists that the actor of such “fantastical” parts should hint to the audience, slyly, as it were, that he is only half in earnest. A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy was induced by the likeness between the Terrys, brother and sister, who had a sort of Shakespearian elegance in their bearing. But this did not avail much with the uncultured crowd. It was objected also that the play was set forth somewhat pedantically and too much _au grand sérieux_, many of the actors, not being comedians—witness Mr. Terriss—imparting a literal tone to all they said and did. This was not without its effect on the audience, who by the very promise of seriousness were beguiled into expecting something serious. Irving himself was not wholly free from this method; and in the strange scene of the imprisonment, so difficult to “carry off,” he was deeply tragic, as if really suffering, and without any underlying grotesqueness. His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the air of retributive punishment in store. Now followed a second expedition to the States, as well as to Canada, the details of which I pass over. On the reopening of his theatre on his return a rather disagreeable episode occurred, connected with an alteration he had made in the arrangement of his house. It was announced that places in the pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which gave rise to indignant protest and to cries of “_Give us back our Pit_.” The question was warmly discussed in the newspapers. The advantage of the debate was that it clearly established a true theatrical principle—viz., that the pit and galleries are intended for the crowd, and should be free and open to the “man in the street”: that the best seats here must be the prize of the strongest and most patient. The principle of numbering and booking, it was shown, would actually abolish the pit. The judicious manager understood and recognised the public discontent, and made announcement that on May 18 he would restore the old custom.