was capable.  We were embarrassed, and Mr. Godwin evidently vexed at the intruder.  However, there was no help for it; the servant had admitted him, and he was introduced in form to Mr. Godwin.  The moment Mr. Jenkins (for such was his name) discovered the distinguished person he had so luckily for him dropped in upon, he was enthusiastically pleased at the event, talked to Mr. Godwin about all his works, inquired about the forthcoming book—­in fact, bored him through and through.  At last the author turned to my husband for refuge against this assault of admiration, and discovered that his host had left the room.  He therefore rose from his seat and approached the window leading to the lawn, Mr. Jenkins officiously following, and insisting upon opening it for him; and while he was urging a provokingly obstinate lock, the object of his devoted attention waited behind him for release.  The casement at length flew open, and Mr. Godwin passing the gentleman with a courteous look of thanks, found to his astonishment that Mr. Jenkins had disappeared, and that Mr. Mathews stood in his place!” Students of “Cloudesly” may discover therein the result of Godwin’s interview with Mathews, and their discussion concerning the art of making-up and disguise.

Some fifty years ago Mr. Leman Thomas Rede published “The Road to the Stage, a Player’s Vade-Mecum.” setting forth, among other matters, various details of the dressing-rooms behind the curtain.  Complaint was made at the time that the work destroyed “the romance of the profession,” and laid bare the mysteries of the actor’s life, such as the world in general had small concern with.  But Mr. Rede’s revelations do not tell very much; at any rate, the secrets he deals with have come to be things of common knowledge.  Nor are his instructions upon the art of making-up to be accounted highly in these times.  “Light-comedy calves,” he tells us, “are made of ragged silken hose;” and what may be called “Othello’s blacking,” is to be composed of “burnt cork, pulverised and mixed with porter.”  Legs coming before the foot-lights must of course be improved by mechanical means, when nature has been unkind, or time has destroyed symmetry; but art has probably discovered a better method of concealing deficiencies than consists in the employment of “ragged silken hose.”  The veteran light comedian, Lewis, who at a very advanced age appeared in juvenile characters, to the complete satisfaction of his audience, was famed for his skill in costume and making-up.  But one night, a roguish actress, while posted near him in the side-wings, employed herself in converting one of his calves into a pincushion.  As soon as he discovered the trick, he affected to feel great pain, and drew up his leg as though in an agony; but he had remained too long unconscious of the proceeding to persuade lookers-on of the genuineness of his limb’s symmetry.  With regard to Othello’s complexion, there is what the Cookery Books call “another way.”  Chetwood,