Stand here in the shadow awhile. The performance is at an end, and the gentlemen who haunt the stage-door are beginning to assemble. There are probably a half dozen of them. They stand around sucking the heads of their canes and anxiously awaiting the appearance of their inamoratas. A burlesque company has the theatre this week, and there are probably eighteen or twenty handsome young ladies in the combination. Nearly every one of them is a "masher," and can be depended upon to hit the centre of a weak male heart, with an arrow from her beaming eye, at one hundred yards. Some of them have received tender notes from the front of the house during the night, making appointments for a private supper at one of the free and easy restaurants; others have met their gentlemen friends before and can depend upon them to wait at the stage-door every night. Those who send the notes during the performance are of what is classed as the ultra-cheeky kind. A man of this class will do anything to make the acquaintance of a ballet or chorus girl. I knew one, one night, to push a dozen different notes under the door of Eme Rousseau's dressing-room, which opened into the parquette, and he would not desist until Samuel Colville, the manager, caused him to be dragged out of the theatre and given over to the police. Another gentleman of the same proclivities having failed to gain Alice Oates's attention when she was in Chicago, followed her to St. Louis, Cincinnati, and Louisville, and still being unable to effect a proper "mash," endeavored to introduce himself successfully and gain her favor forever by making her a present of a pair of fast horses. Alice very sensibly refused to accept the gift, and told the fond and foolish young man to go home to his mother.