In her train came a small flock of dejected-looking, but real sheep,
which were seemingly inspired by sufficient intelligence to wish to
avoid the coming catastrophe.
The city (or cities) was represented by coarsely-painted scenery, and,
owing to some defect in the perspective, appeared to be only a few feet
from the travellers, though doubtless intended to fill the distant
horizon.
The fleeing pair jerked slowly across the stage in time to subdued but
brassy music from the Hippodrome band, the sheep followed, and thunder
and lightning were heard and seen.
Flashes and bangs resounded, the doomed city rocked upon its
foundations, and the audience joined in the uproar.
Sacks full of flour descended from Heaven and burst, converting the
fleshly Mrs. Lot into the traditional pillar of salt, and the house and
the curtain were brought down together.
Restored to good-humour, the audience had forgotten the disgrace and
failure of their favourite _equestrienne_.
CHAPTER XI
"I am tired of tears and laughter
And men that laugh and weep,
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow and reap.
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