The scenic artist, who is often known to the people only by his work, has some extraordinary duties to perform. When a combination or company has a date at a theatre a week or so beforehand, they send on small models of the scenery they require for their play. These models greatly resemble in their general appearance and size the toy theatres that are sold to children. The stage carpenter, who goes around day and night treading the stage in his own shuffling and careless way, and who is entirely unknown to the public, takes the models and builds frames over which canvas or muslin is spread. Then the canvas-covered frame is taken to the scene painter's bridge when it is ready for the colors. In many theatres the bridge is a platform extending across the stage, and distant from the rear wall about a foot. It is on a level with the flies, and the opening between it and the rear wall is used for lowering and hoisting a scene, which is hung on a large wooden frame while the artist is at work upon it. This frame moves up and down, being swung on pulleys. The most improved theatres East and West, in addition to having the dressing-rooms, engines, etc., in a building separate from the theatre, have the paint bridge also separate. Great iron doors, three or four stories high, close the opening to the painting establishment, and all scenery not in use on the stage during the run of a play is stored in the space under the bridge, while the bridge itself is really a long narrow room with an opening at one side of a foot or less, through which communication is had with the storeroom, and which gives space for the operation of the frames upon which scenes are painted. The artist's palette is a long table with compartments at the back for different colors, and there is besides a profusion of paint cans, jars, etc., with huge brushes that might serve the whitewasher's wide-spread purpose, and others thin enough to paint a lady's eye-lash. Water-colors are used, and great splotches of it are found along the lengthy palette. The removal of the paint-bridge from the stage is a blessing to actors and actresses alike, for often during a performance at night or a rehearsal in the morning broadcloths and silks received dashes of paint from the brush of the man at work in mid-air. Still actresses do not often keep shy of the paint-bridge. The ballet-girls are sometimes to be found there amusing themselves with the artist and his assistants, and they tell the story of two New York actresses who actually put on aprons, took hold of the big brushes, and assisted a scenic artist in "priming" his canvas. They were bantering him about the slow progress he was making with a scene that was wanted that night, when he remarked: "If you are in such a hurry for the scene, why don't you come up here and help me?" They accepted the invitation at once, and went to work in the manner I have suggested. The scene was ready that night, but the actresses were very tired. They