picture.'

Profiting by these and other lessons, which were the result of the
personal experience of the two actors, Nicholas willingly gave them the
best breakfast he could, and, when he at length got rid of them, applied
himself to his task: by no means displeased to find that it was so much
easier than he had at first supposed. He worked very hard all day,
and did not leave his room until the evening, when he went down to the
theatre, whither Smike had repaired before him to go on with another
gentleman as a general rebellion.

Here all the people were so much changed, that he scarcely knew them.
False hair, false colour, false calves, false muscles--they had become
different beings. Mr Lenville was a blooming warrior of most exquisite
proportions; Mr Crummles, his large face shaded by a profusion of
black hair, a Highland outlaw of most majestic bearing; one of the
old gentlemen a jailer, and the other a venerable patriarch; the comic
countryman, a fighting-man of great valour, relieved by a touch of
humour; each of the Master Crummleses a prince in his own right; and the
low-spirited lover, a desponding captive. There was a gorgeous banquet
ready spread for the third act, consisting of two pasteboard vases, one
plate of biscuits, a black bottle, and a vinegar cruet; and, in short,
everything was on a scale of the utmost splendour and preparation.

Nicholas was standing with his back to the curtain, now contemplating
the first scene, which was a Gothic archway, about two feet shorter
than Mr Crummles, through which that gentleman was to make his first
entrance, and now listening to a couple of people who were cracking nuts
in the gallery, wondering whether they made the whole audience, when the
manager himself walked familiarly up and accosted him.