picture, where they lay asleep, unconscious of the fierce faces bending over them. Yes, we loved the “Shakspere book” very much. Sometimes our mother would give us a party,--and that was sure to be a delightful affair, with charades or magic lantern or something of the kind. Here is an account of one such party, written by our mother herself in a letter to her sister, which lies before me:-- “My guests arrived in omnibus loads at four o’clock. My notes to parents concluded with the following P. S.: ‘Return omnibus provided, with insurance against plum-cake and other accidents.’ A donkey carriage afforded great amusement out of doors, together with swing, bowling-alley, and the Great Junk. [I have not mentioned the Junk yet, but you shall hear of it in good time.] While all this was going on, the H.’s, J. S., and I prepared a theatrical exhibition, of which I had made a hasty outline. It was the story of ‘Blue Beard.’ We had curtains which drew back and forth, and regular footlights. You can’t think how good it was! There were four scenes. My antique cabinet was the ‘Blue Beard’ cabinet; we yelled in delightful chorus when the door was opened, and the children stretched their necks to the last degree to see the horrible sight. The curtain closed upon a fainting-fit, done by four women. In the third scene we were scrubbing the fatal key, when I cried out, ‘Try the mustang liniment! It’s _the_ liniment for us, for you know we _must hang_ if we don’t succeed!’ This, which was made on the spur of the moment, overcame the whole audience with laughter, and I myself shook so that I had to go down into the tub in which we were scrubbing the key. Well, to make a long story short, our play was very successful, and immediately afterward came supper. There were four long tables for the children; twenty sat at each. Ice-cream, cake, blancmange, and delicious sugar-plums, also oranges, etc., were served up ‘in style.’ We had our supper a little later. Three omnibus-loads went from my door; the last--the grown people--at nine o’clock.” In another letter to the same dear sister, our mother says:-- “I have written a play for our doll theatre, and performed it yesterday afternoon with great success. It occupied nearly an hour. I had alternately to grunt and squeak the parts, while Chev played the puppets. [Chev was the name by which she always called our father; it was an abbreviation of Chevalier, for he was always to her the ‘knight without reproach or fear.’] The effect was really extremely good. The spectators were in a dark room, and the little theatre, lighted by a lamp from the top, looked very pretty.” This may have been the play of “Beauty and the Beast,” of which the manuscript is unhappily lost. I can recall but one passage: