— i A FAIEY STOEY. The last rehearsal of the pantomime was on Chriatmas Day. There was to be a morning performance the next day. We had still plenty to do. Of oourse the properties were all be hind. No one ever know them to be ready until tha last moment, and I saw enough work to keep me employed all night. The tone of my backcloth in the transformation soene did not pleaße me, and I resolved to paint it over again. When I announced this in tention to my assistants there was much grumbling, for they had counted upon having the night for sooial festivity. Abont ten tho stage-manager left the house; soon afterwards the property men knocked off ; then the firemen sneaked away. My men bad been working well, and seeing no more work than I could finish single-handed, I gave them leave to go. About five minutes later tbe stage-doorkeeper oame and asked if I thought there was any further need for him to stay. "Well," said I, " as there Is very little ohance of any of the men returning before the morning I should think you will not be wanted. The firemen have their pasa keys ? " " Oh, yes, sir." ■' Very well. If I hoar anyone at the door I will go down." He thanked me and hurried away ; then I was left nlone in the theatre # • # * We were terribly oramped for space at the Momus. There was 'no paintiug room. The only accommodation we had was a long bench in the flies for mixing colors, a light bridge thrown across tbe back of tbe stage, and a eceDe loft above, from which the cloths were lowered by a windlass to the level to be painted. Standing in the middle of tho bridge, filling a pipe, I looked about me. It was the first time I had ever found myself perfectly alone iu a theatre at midnight, and the sensation I felt was anything bat oheerful. The curtain and dropß were up, and I could look iato the body of the house. A lolitary jet burned in the dress cirole, and gave scarcely Buffioient light to show tbe out line of bcxea and cirole swathed in their holland winding- Bhcets. 