He had
been very miserable all day, he was so poor; and we could not think of
any way of comforting him except making him laugh. We did not succeed,
with our wildest efforts; but it turned out better than we had
expected, after all; for his shadow-dance got him into notice, and he
is quite popular now, and making money fast.--If he does not take care,
we shall have other work to do with him by and by, poor fellow!"
"I and some others did the same for a poor play-writer once. He had a
Christmas piece to write, and [not] being an original genius, it was
not so easy for him to find a subject as it is for most of his class. I
saw the trouble he was in, and collecting a few stray Shadows, we
acted, in dumb-show of course, the funniest bit of nonsense we could
think of; and it was quite successful. The poor fellow watched every
motion, roaring with laughter at us, and delight at the ideas we put
into his head. He turned it all into words, and scenes, and actions;
and the piece came off with a splendid success."
"But how long we have to look for a chance of doing anything worth
doing," said a long, thin, especially lugubrious Shadow. "I have only
done one thing worth telling ever since we met last. But I am proud of
that."
"What was it? What was it?" rose from twenty voices.
"I crept into a dining-room, one twilight, soon after Christmas-day. I
had been drawn thither by the glow of a bright fire shining through red
window-curtains.
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