We ascended to the roof to examine the ventilation, by which, if stopped, the spectators, in case of accident or of a row, might be suffocated. Also, the vast water-tanks by which, in case of fire, they might be drowned. After long rambling and descending endless steps, I found myself in a vast dark and apparently boundless area; the flat wooden roof high above my head was supported by upright timbers, some having intermediate stages like large dissecting-tables. Here and there three lamps, rivalling rushlights, made the obscurity more visible, and the carpentry more incomprehensible.
Suddenly a little bell rang—the signal for my scene-shifting friend to take his post. He pointed to one of the dismal imitations of a rushlight, and said: “You see that light; on its left is a door, go through that, and straight on until you arrive at daylight.” Instantly my friend became invisible in the surrounding gloom.
My first step when thus suddenly abandoned, was to mount on a large oblong platform about six feet above the floor. Here I was philosophically contemplating the surrounding obscure vacuity, in order that I might fully “comprehend the situation.”
Suddenly a flash of lightning occurred. On looking up, high above my head I saw an opening as large as the platform on which I stood. All there was brightness. Whilst I was admiring this new light, and seeking my way to the upper and outer world, two devils with long forked tails jumped upon the platform, one at each end. {253}
〈ESCAPE FROM THE DEVILS.〉
“What do you do here?” said Devil No. 1.
Before I could invent a decent excuse, Devil No. 2 exclaimed:
“You must not come with us.”
This was consolatory and reassuring, so I replied—
“Heaven forbid.”