The joy attended Mr. Wopsle

through his struggle with Laertes on the brink of the orchestra and

the grave, and slackened no more until he had tumbled the king off

the kitchen-table, and had died by inches from the ankles upward.

We had made some pale efforts in the beginning to applaud Mr.

Wopsle; but they were too hopeless to be persisted in. Therefore we

had sat, feeling keenly for him, but laughing, nevertheless, from

ear to ear. I laughed in spite of myself all the time, the whole

thing was so droll; and yet I had a latent impression that there

was something decidedly fine in Mr. Wopsle's elocution - not for old

associations' sake, I am afraid, but because it was very slow, very

dreary, very up-hill and down-hill, and very unlike any way in

which any man in any natural circumstances of life or death ever

expressed himself about anything. When the tragedy was over, and he

had been called for and hooted, I said to Herbert, "Let us go at

once, or perhaps we shall meet him."

We made all the haste we could down-stairs, but we were not quick

enough either. Standing at the door was a Jewish man with an

unnatural heavy smear of eyebrow, who caught my eyes as we

advanced, and said, when we came up with him:

"Mr. Pip and friend?"

Identity of Mr. Pip and friend confessed.

"Mr. Waldengarver," said the man, "would be glad to have the

honour."

"Waldengarver?" I repeated - when Herbert murmured in my ear,

"Probably Wopsle."

"Oh!" said I. "Yes. Shall we follow you?"

"A few steps, please." When we were in a side alley, he turned and

asked, "How did you think he looked? - I dressed him."

I don't know what he had looked like, except a funeral; with the

addition of a large Danish sun or star hanging round his neck by a

blue ribbon, that had given him the appearance of being insured in

some extraordinary Fire Office. But I said he had looked very nice.

"When he come to the grave," said our conductor, "he showed his

cloak beautiful. But, judging from the wing, it looked to me that

when he see the ghost in the queen's apartment, he might have made

more of his stockings."

I modestly assented, and we all fell through a little dirty swing

door, into a sort of hot packing-case immediately behind it. Here

Mr. Wopsle was divesting himself of his Danish garments, and here

there was just room for us to look at him over one another's

shoulders, by keeping the packing-case door, or lid, wide open.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Wopsle, "I am proud to see you. I hope, Mr.

Pip, you will excuse my sending round. I had the happiness to know

you in former times, and the Drama has ever had a claim which has

ever been acknowledged, on the noble and the affluent."

Meanwhile, Mr. Waldengarver, in a frightful perspiration, was trying

to get himself out of his princely sables.

"Skin the stockings off, Mr. Waldengarver," said the owner of that

property, "or you'll bust 'em. Bust 'em, and you'll bust

five-and-thirty shillings. Shakspeare never was complimented with a

finer pair. Keep quiet in your chair now, and leave 'em to me."

With that, he went upon his knees, and began to flay his victim;

who, on the first stocking coming off, would certainly have fallen

over backward with his chair, but for there being no room to fall

anyhow.

I had been afraid until then to say a word about the play. But

then, Mr. Waldengarver looked up at us complacently, and said:

"Gentlemen, how did it seem to you, to go, in front?"

Herbert said from behind (at the same time poking me), "capitally."

So I said "capitally."

"How did you like my reading of the character, gentlemen?" said Mr.

Waldengarver, almost, if not quite, with patronage.

Herbert said from behind (again poking me), "massive and concrete."

So I said boldly, as if I had originated it, and must beg to insist

upon it, "massive and concrete."

"I am glad to have your approbation, gentlemen," said Mr.