want to know all about it—what it costs, how it is produced—and Sir Augustus Harris is in possession of the key of knowledge.
Wiring masks.Touching up the grog blossom"How's this?"
"What does it cost?" he cries. "There are my books." He turns over page after page in a great book. "A pantomime costs from £16,000 to £20,000 for dresses, scenery, &c. A big procession costs from £5,000 to £6,000. A good principal boy means £60 to £100 a week, a troupe of acrobats £70 or more, a first-class clown £30 or £40, and a sprightly dancer £30 to £50. Then there are many other salaries of £45, £30, £25, £10 a week each, whilst the ballet averages out at 30s. a week, with extra for mornings. More salaries, for the week: Carpenters, £191 3s. 3d.; property men, £129 12s. 6d.; gas and electric light men, £26 3s. 8d.; limelight men, £26 9s. 6d.; wardrobe, dressers, and others, £111 4s. 10d.; paint-room artist, £334 10s. 11d.; orchestra, £160 a week."
Then we go on to the stage. What a change from the brilliancy of the thousand lights at night! The auditorium is in darkness; the house clothed, as it were, in great white cloths. How different, too, the scene on the stage! The pupils of the school for dancing have been rehearsing, and there is a lull for a moment. The pianist has stopped; the young ladies arrayed in neat cotton "practice" dresses, are resting for the moment, though a quartet of the most industrious are still tripping to a one, two, three, four in a deserted corner. They have a month's good work before them ere the curtain rises on "Humpty-Dumpty" on Boxing night, and plenty of practice in store previous to being drafted into the regular ballet. Little fellows are trying on their masks, waiting to be provided with a comfortable fit, and the tiniest and sweetest of little fairies are lightly walking about with wands in their hands, learning how to "stir the soup," as waving the wand is familiarly designated in pantomime circles. A pretty little mite is just passing before Sir Augustus. She must try and use that magic wand more gracefully, and he shows her how. Away she goes to practise in a corner. She will soon learn—earnestness is written on her little face; she wants to be noticed in the great stage picture on Boxing night.
Leaving this busy scene, I visit the modelling or property-room. The men are handling heads and creating countenances upon them calculated to give rise to a smile on the most serious face. Here is the first stage of the immense egg out of which
