played seven-up a while, five cents a game.  Then they got tired of it, and allowed they would “lay out a campaign,” as they called it. The duke went down into his carpet-bag, and fetched up a lot of little printed bills and read them out loud.  One bill said, “The celebrated Dr. Armand de Montalban, of Paris,” would “lecture on the Science of Phrenology” at such and such a place, on the blank day of blank, at ten cents admission, and “furnish charts of character at twenty-five cents apiece.”  The duke said that was _him_.  In another bill he was the “world-renowned Shakespearian tragedian, Garrick the Younger, of Drury Lane, London.”  In other bills he had a lot of other names and done other wonderful things, like finding water and gold with a “divining-rod,” “dissipating witch spells,” and so on.  By and by he says: “But the histrionic muse is the darling.  Have you ever trod the boards, Royalty?” “No,” says the king. “You shall, then, before you're three days older, Fallen Grandeur,” says the duke. “The first good town we come to we'll hire a hall and do the sword fight in Richard III. and the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. How does that strike you?” “I'm in, up to the hub, for anything that will pay, Bilgewater; but, you see, I don't know nothing about play-actin', and hain't ever seen much of it.  I was too small when pap used to have 'em at the palace.  Do you reckon you can learn me?” “Easy!” “All right.  I'm jist a-freezn' for something fresh, anyway.  Le's commence right away.” So the duke he told him all about who Romeo was and who Juliet was, and said he was used to being Romeo, so the king could be Juliet. “But if Juliet's such a young gal, duke, my peeled head and my white whiskers is goin' to look oncommon odd on her, maybe.” “No, don't you worry; these country jakes won't ever think of that. Besides, you know, you'll be in costume, and that makes all the difference in the world; Juliet's in a balcony, enjoying the moonlight before she g