gaffs? No. Who did look after them? Nobody.

The Whitechapel gaff—we believe it is the
only one in the locality—is attached to a
ginger-beer shop. The sole lessee and proprietor
has knocked a hole through the wall of the
shop to establish communication for money-
taking purposes, with the narrow passage
leading to the gaff. Here, in medias res, the
sole lessee and proprietor, a rather magnificent
personage in a white coat (the badge of
Whitechapel nobility), sits on a stool, with one hand
in the shop dispensing ginger beer, and the
other thrust through the hole, taking admission
money in the passage leading to the theatre.
We paid twopence into the theatrical hand, and
were bidden to ascend to the reserved seats.
The reserved seats were half a dozen dirty
forms in a cockloft at the end of a narrow shed.
We were the first arrival in that part of the
house, and, when the gentleman who played the
violin emerged from beneath the stage into the
orchestra and saw us, he was staggered by our
appearance, and exclaimed, "Oh scissors!" He
then had a long conversation with the Harp
about us, and it was evidently their joint
opinion that we were a suspicious character.
There was not much to look at while waiting
for the performance to commence. Decorative
art did not extend beyond the proscenium of
the little stage at the end of the shed. The
walls were covered by an old and dingy paper,
torn and blurred with wear and weather. On
the left wall were pinned several announcements
roughly written upon scraps of coarse paper.
Thus: "Ginger Beer, Id. Try our Penny
Smokes;" and this important announcement:

                        To be sung for
                     NEXT THURSDAY,
         A LARGE CHEST OF DRAWERS.
                      Take your tickets.

We had heard of singing for supper, but never
before of singing for a chest of drawers. We
were informed that it would be a grand
competition by artists from the principal gaffs,
whose respective merits would be weighed in
the Philosopher's scales by a jury of the audience
—the best singer to carry off the chest of
drawers. Two young gentlemen in the pit were
canvassing the merits of certain intending
competitors, and it was the decided opinion of
one of them that his favourite could sing all the
others' heads off. We regretted that we had
not come on Thursday to see the heads fall, in
the cause of the chest of drawers.

The area of the theatre seemed to be divided
into pit and stalls; for though the forms were
uniformly black and dirty, through coming in
contact with the evening costume of their
occupants, a select half dozen of the seats were railed
off from the others by a low partition. The
audience here was chiefly composed of young
boys, who beguiled the time until the rising of
the curtain by smoking short pipes, drinking
ginger beer, and chasing each other over the
seats. The audience and the stage authorities
were on the most intimate and familiar terms.
When it was time to light the gas, the stage
manager popped his head out from underneath
the stage, and said, "Who's got a lucifer?"
Two or three lads in the pit immediately vaulted
over the partition of the stalls, and, striking
matches, lighted up the six gas-jets which
constituted the whole illuminating apparatus of
the house. Before the performance commenced,
the top of a battered old grand piano in the
orchestra was loaded with bottles of ginger
beer for the consumption of the evening. When
a gentleman in the pit required refreshment, a
bottle of ginger beer was thrown to him over
the heads of the stalls; when, later in the
evening, the stock on the piano required
replenishing, a fresh supply was tossed over the
heads of the pit into the orchestra, where
the bottles were deftly caught in bundle-of-
firewood fashion by the master of the revels.
Neither corkscrews nor glasses were used in
getting at the contents of the bottles. The
plan that prevailed in boxes, stalls, and pit,
alike, was to knock the end of the bottle smartly
on the seat, and, when the cork flew out (which
it invariably did in obedience to a law of science
connected with gas, doubtless known to the
professors of the Polytechnic Institution), to
apply the gushing stone fountain to the mouth.
The audience were extremely friendly towards
each other. No one thought of selfishly
consuming a whole bottle, but on taking a pull
handed it to his next neighbour, politely asking
him "to have a suck." The amount of enjoyment
which these Whitechapel boys managed
to extract from a single penny bottle of ginger
beer, was wonderful; for, when six boys had
refreshed themselves with the beer, the same six
boys amused themselves for some time afterwards
in tossing the bottle from one to another. Short
pipes were passed from mouth to mouth, like the
bottles, and one pipe in particular was in great
request, owing to its having a flexible
mouthpiece. The possessor of this pipe was much
envied. Great attention was paid to a
distinguished public character, who was recognised in
the pit. Every one within reach offered him a suck
of his bottle and a "draw" at his pipe, and, in
return for these civilities, the distinguished public
character took off a decoration which he wore
and handed it round for inspection. It was not
the order of the Bath; rather, we think, the
order of the Fleece; for it was formed of a square
piece of cardboard, and bore this inscription:
                       I AM PARRILLIZZED.

This badge of distinction was inspected with
admiration, and the owner, when it was handed
back to him, proudly affixed it to his breast.

The performers as they arrived passed through
the theatre to their dressing-rooms. They were
five in number, three gentlemen and two ladies,
and their stage costume was contained in two
bundles and one carpet-bag. The prima donna,
in tripping along, coquettishly slapped a youthful
member of the audience on the back, and
called him "Joe;" and the leading man seemed