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124                           A FEW MEMORIES
had been given for Othello to enter, but he did not appear. To fill in the awkward pause that followed, I remarked, " Here comes my noble lord 1" Another pause! but no Moor in sight. Miss Morris, equal to the occasion, said, after another wait, " I will go and seek the Moor," thus leaving me quite alone upon the vast stage during a suspense of nearly three minutes, which seemed as many hours. Fortunately I had a piece of embroidery in my hand, and there I sat, smiling inanely, and trying to appear as though the situation were enjoyable. Either the audience felt for me, or grew weary of the long silence, for in the midst of it they burst into applause which I took as a reward for my patience. The stillness after that grew oppressive, and was becoming unbearable, when at last I saw Miss Morris with Othello in tow. Springing to my feet and flinging away the embroidery, I cried, with transport, " Oh, be praised, ye heavens, here comes the noble Moor at last !" Having quite forgotten the scene (McCullough was changing his dress for the next act), his entrance was precipitate and confused, and it was some time before we regained our composure. Poor Desdemona! what trials she passed through that night! During the second and last perform-