Our concert room here is the Variety Theatre, a fair-sized barn, with doors on hinges up near the roof, opening for light and air. The sides are of weather-boards only, the roof shingled within hardwood, no lining; stars shine through; and as people commonly carry umbrellas, they are prepared to use them in case of a sudden shower. The night of the first concert, we had in the shilling part—rear end of the bam—about two hundred people, mostly miners. These gentlemen were prepared to enjoy the concert in their own way, nearly every one having a good honest clay pipe. The little wax matches which light with a snapping noise were going all the time,—you could plainly see the spark on the back ground of good thick smoke. As we had a large front part of house at four and three shillings, I made up my mind to try the effect of a coaxing appeal to the gentlemen in the rear to abstain from smoking. I spoke of the heat, close air, the general enjoyment which all would realize if they would abstain from smoking while the performances went on. It had the desired effect: they put up their pipes, were very quiet, attentive, and enthusiastic; but when approaching the end of part first, we could hear the little explosive matches on all sides going like fireworks, and at the last note up rose nearly every man, with a good head of pipe on, and marched out the side door, to take the air, and “ see a friend.”