ladelphia theatre, except, of course, on the stage. The fact that you
know they can overhear you, and intend to do so, leads one on to make
the most outrageous, cynical, and scoffish remarks, particularly to
denounce with fury a play that you may be enjoying quite passably well.
All over the house you will hear (after the first act) men saying to
their accompanying damsels, "How outrageously clumsy that act was. I
can't conceive how the director let it get by." Now they only say this
because they think it will make the people behind feel ashamed for
having enjoyed such a botch. But does it? The people in the row behind
immediately begin to praise the play vigorously, for the benefit of the
people behind _them_; and in a minute you see the amusing spectacle of
the theatre cheering and damning by alternate rows.

Here and there you will see a lady whispering something to her escort,
and will notice how ladies always look backward over a lily shoulder
while whispering. They want to see what effect this whispering will have
on the people behind. There is a deep-rooted feud between every two rows
in an audience. The front row, having nobody to hate (except possibly
the actors), take it out in speculating why on earth anybody can want to
sit in the boxes, where they can see nothing.

What the boxes think about we are not sure. We never sat in a box except
at a burlicue.

And then a complete essay might be written on the ads in the theatre
program--what high-spirited ads they are! How full of the savour and
luxurious tang of the _beau monde_! How they insist on saying
_specialite_ instead of specialty!

Well, all we meant to say when we began was, the heroine was Only
Fair--by which we mean to say she was beautiful and nothing else.

MUSINGS OF JOHN MISTLETOE

It was old John Mistletoe, we think, in his "Book of Deplorable Facts,"
discussing the congenial topic of "Going to Bed" (or was it in his essay
on "The Concinnity of Washerwomen?") said something like this:

Life passes by with deplorable rapidity. _Post commutatorem sedet
horologium terrificum_, behind the commuter rideth the alarm
clock, no sooner hath he attained to the office than it is time
for lunch, no sooner hath lunch been dispatched than it is time
to sign those dictated letters, no sooner this accomplished, 'tis
time to hasten trainward. The essential thing, then, is not to
let one's experiences flow irrevocab