to follow in too.

They were shown into a very comfortable box, commanding a good view of
the whole of the theatre. The thrilling strains of music issuing from
the orchestra, the dazzling lights, and the large assembly of elegantly
dressed ladies in the boxes, a mass of people in the pit, and tiers of
heads in the galleries, filled George with excitement. He who a little
while before had been the dullest of the party, was now the gayest of
the gay; he was lost in astonishment at all he saw and heard, dazzled
with the brilliancy of the scene, and abandoned to all the enjoyments of
the hour.

The performances that evening consisted of a farce, the comedy of the
"Serious Family," and a ballet. When the curtain rose, and the farce
commenced, George entered heart and soul into the spirit of the
performance; laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks at the
dilemmas of an unlucky wight who acted a prominent part, and stamped
applause in favour of a young lady who tried in every way to defend this
unfortunate individual from his persecutors.

When it was over, Ashton turned to George, and said--

"Well, Weston, so much for the farce; now, if you think it is
objectionable, off you go, old fellow, and we will forgive you."

"No," said George; "I think that farce was capital, and I shall stay now
and see the end. I am not surprised people like the theatre--I never
enjoyed a laugh more in my life. But there is one thing I have not
liked. That hero of the piece did not scruple to use language for which
he would have been kicked out of any respectable private house--and yet