hibited by the governor, the next night the whole audience seemed to be afflicted with an epidemic of catarrh, and the coughing and sneezing during that performance was something wonderful. But the governor had a remedy for catarrh; it was heroic but successful. When some of the audience were removed to prison the rest had a very quick recovery. The next night a young man brought a small dog to the theater with him, on whose tail he would accidentally step, and then the people cried, "Take the animal away!" but with their glances directed toward the singer and not to the diminutive canine. This resulted in more arrests.
The following night the climax came. One of the auditors was so incensed that he threw his boot at the singer. Instructions were then given to the soldiers at the doorways to arrest whoever came out with but one boot on. As it happened, the very first man to appear was minus a shoe. He was at once arrested. But strange to say, the next man also had a shoe missing, and the next, and the next. Every man in the house was in the same plight, and the soldiers were thoroughly disgusted. The next day the singer gave up the contest and left the place.
205.—WHAT'S IN A NAME.
In answer to this question we must reply, everything, to some people. To illustrate this we can do no better than to quote some of Liszt's experiences. When he was a boy he used occasionally to enjoy a prank at the expense of his audiences. He writes:
"When I was very young, I often amused myself with playing school-boy tricks, of which my auditors never failed to become the dupes. I would play the same piece, at one time as of Beethoven, at another as of Czerny, and, lastly, as my own. The occasion on which I passed myself off for the author, I received both protection and encouragement: 'It really was not bad for my age.'
