Second Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar and to rejoice in his triumph.

The cobbler's reply brings even a more severe reproof from the tribunes, but trumpets are heard in the distance, the procession is seen approaching, and the censures of the patricians are unheeded as the citizens disperse in the direction of the coming spectacle.

An amusing incident occurred in a notable performance of "Julius Cæsar" given some years ago in San Francisco.

As a matter of interest I mention the cast of the principal characters, all of the actors having since passed away.

Brutus..

.Mr. Edwin Booth

Cassius..

..Mr. Barton Hill

Marc Antony... Mr. John McCullough
Julius Cæsar.....Mr. Henry Edwards

All of these characters, with others, enter on the first scene in a procession returning from the games of the Lupercal, and are followed by a crowd of

citizens. Cæsar, impressed by an act of marked discourtesy on the part of the lean and hungry Cassius, calls Marc Antony to his side, and exclaims: "Let me have men about me that are fat." Upon this, the two comedians playing the First and Second Citizens, Mr. C. B. Bishop and Mr. William Mestayer, both of very robust figures, and each turning the scales at 250 pounds at least, advanced, one on either side of Cæsar, and placing their hands on their rotund and protruding stomachs, looked up at the great man as much as to say, "Well! here is just what you want."

Of course, this interpolation of business caused considerable amusement both for the audience and the actors, and completely destroyed the dignity of the scene; but both gentlemen were great personal favorites with the public, and their little joke was tolerated by their indulgent friends as an evidence of their eccentricity, in spite of its absurd and inappropriate introduction.

The two comedians have long since joined "the great majority," their exuberant humor is but a

memory, but it is still affectionately cherished in the sphere in which they lived.

The citizens appear on several occasions during the progress of the tragedy, notably, in the Senate scene at the assassination of Cæsar, and later, in the market-place, where they are addressed in turn by Brutus and Marc Antony. Their lines are merely acquiescent to the sentiments of the principal characters; but there is one line that always struck me as humorous in the extreme. It occurs in Act 3, Scene 2, after the first part of Marc Antony's address over the body of Cæsar. Antony, apparently overcome by emotion, pauses in his eloquent argument in defense of his dead friend, when the First Citizen sagely remarks: "Methinks there is much reason in his sayings." To which our old friend, the Second Citizen replies: "If thou consider rightly of the matter, Cæsar hath had great wrong."

It is to this last speech that I refer. His absurdly inadequate expression of sympathy for the great man who has been so foully murdered, and whose body lies before him covered with wounds,

always seemed to me to carry with it a sense of the ridiculous, that I could never completely overcome; although I am prepared to admit that, per se, it is not inappropriate to the limited intelligence of the speaker.

There is a brief episode in the next scene of the same act in which the citizens again appear, that has a delightful touch of satirical humor. It occurs after the people have been aroused to vengeance against the conspirators by the address of Marc Antony, and are seeking the assassins in the streets of the city. Among many suspicious persons accosted by the crowd is Cinna, the poet, who is seized and assailed by a perfect volley of questions from the excited multitude; to which he replies: "What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then to answer every man directly, and briefly, wisely, and truly; wisely I say, I am a bachelor."

To this our ever-humorous friend the Second Citizen, who is one of the foremost in the crowd, and evidently a married man, responds in charac

teristic fashion: "That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry; you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear."

Further questioning reveals the name of the captured man to be Cinna, which being also the name of one of the conspirators, for whom he is mistaken, the crowd cry: "Tear him to pieces, he is a conspirator!"

The poor fellow, however, protests: "I am Cinna, the poet; I am Cinna, the poet."

Cinna's poetry does not appear to be highly appreciated by the people, or he has unfortunately encountered an unsympathetic critic, for one of the citizens exclaims: "Tear him for his bad verses; tear him for his bad verses."

Again the poet protests: "I am not Cinna, the conspirator."

Whatever justice there may have been in the fate adjudged the poor poet by the enraged populace, our ingenuous friend, the Second Citizen, is not without mercy, and he proposes: "It is no matter; his name's Cinna; pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going."