There was no answer, or no boat in sight. The cloaked figure then turned about and hurried back to the eastward.
Had something gone amiss?
[to be continued.]
[MYSTERIES OF STAGE SCENERY.]
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
You have taken off your overcoat and made yourself as comfortable as possible in an angular little folding-chair that never was intended to give any human being a minute's comfort. The orchestra has crashed through the last measures of the overture. The footlights are turned up; the auditorium lights are turned down; the curtain rises. You see a beautiful valley, winding away among very purple mountains till it loses itself in the crimson of the glowing sunset. The sky is as luminous as if it were nature itself, and you are almost tempted to believe that the rear wall of the theatre has been removed, and that you are looking out at something real. Presently you notice a few soft fleecy clouds drifting across the sky. The crimson fades gradually, and the pale gray of a brief twilight follows. The sky grows darker and darker, and presently you see the twinkle of a single star, then another and another. And now a gentle greenish glow begins to pervade the scene. It increases in power till the stage is flooded with the bright refulgence of a summer moon. The whole thing is beautifully managed, and is most realistic.
MAKING THE FIRE IN THE LAST SCENE OF "DIE WALKÜRE."
Calciums, Cloud-machine, Lycopodium Torch, Red Fire, and Steam-box in Operation.