WISHART AND THE DEAD BODY.

EVERY theatrical artist who goes on tour knows of the great difficulties to be experienced in finding suitable lodgings. My own unpleasant and discomforting experiences in this direction would fill volumes, but by far the most extraordinary story I have heard was told me by Wishart, the well-known conjurer and entertainer.

I will set down the story just as Wishart recounted it to me. It would be difficult to imagine a more unnerving and revolting experience.

It happened in this manner. Wishart was touring the theatres of South Wales. When he came to Dowlais, he congratulated himself on his good luck, for he was able to fix up at the very first house at which he called. The landlady told him that she had no room vacant at the moment, but if he cared to call again in an hour's time, she would be pleased to show him a room that might be suitable. This arrangement suited the conjurer admirably, and leaving his bag, he went into the town to get a meal before the evening performance.

The landlady was as good as her word. When Wishart returned later, he was shown to a room which gave him every satisfaction.

On retiring for the night, he found the bed both roomy and comfortable, and soon dropped off into a heavy sleep.

His slumbers were disturbed early on the following morning by a loud knocking on the door.

"Hello," he cried, somewhat annoyed at the manner in which he had been awakened. "What do you want?"

The knocking ceased. "We've come for the corpse," a voice replied.

"Corpse? What corpse?"

"The corpse in your room."

"You've made a mistake. There's no corpse in here."

"Oh, yes there is. You must let us have it."

Wishart rose from his bed and unlocked the door. "I tell you, you have made a mistake," be said angrily. "There is no corpse in here. Please go away and let me sleep."

The two men who were standing in the passage told him that it was he who had made the mistake.

"The corpse is beneath the bed, sir" said one of them as an afterthought. "It was in the bed until you came along yesterday."

They entered the room and pulled aside the low counterpane which lay across the bed. Wishart could hardly believe his eyes, and for a few moments was too dumbfounded to speak.

Lying on the floor was the body of an old man! The conjurer's thoughts are best left undescribed, but I need hardly say that he never slept another wink in the house.