And there is always a tremendous row going on in the house when the
comic lovers are making love. Somebody always seems to be putting up
pictures in the next room, and putting them up boisterously, too, so
that the comic lovers have to shout at each other.



THE PEASANTS.

They are so clean. We have seen peasantry off the stage, and it has
presented an untidy--occasionally a disreputable and
unwashed--appearance; but the stage peasant seems to spend all his
wages on soap and hair-oil.

They are always round the corner--or rather round the two corners--and
they come on in a couple of streams and meet in the center; and when
they are in their proper position they smile.

There is nothing like the stage peasants' smile in this world--nothing
so perfectly inane, so calmly imbecile.

They are so happy. They don't look it, but we know they are because
they say so. If you don't believe them, they dance three steps to the
right and three steps to the left back again. They can't help it. It
is because they are so happy.

When they are more than usually rollicking they stand in a semicircle,
with their hands on each other's shoulders, and sway from side to
side, trying to make themselves sick. But this is only when they are