M. Laloy's French version of the Chinese play, 'The Flower of the Palace
of Han.' However diverse likings and dislikings of these pieces may
have been, there is no doubt that they were all worthy of a first-rate
production.

Mr. Ames announces for the coming year a series of matinees, especially
for children. It is pleasant to see the professional theaters falling
into line with the increasing trend of amateur organizations in paying
attention to the need of good plays for children.

MISS HORNIMAN'S PLAYERS

Late in March, at the Plymouth Theater in Boston, Miss Horniman's
players from Manchester, England, gave their only performance in the
United States. They came under the auspices of the American Drama
Society. They presented 'Nan,' a three-act tragedy by John Masefield,
whose work we otherwise would not have seen for some time. Aside from
the remarkable play, the performance is memorable as setting a new
standard in acting. The value of perfect ensemble work was clearly
demonstrated.

SUMURUN

Sumurun, an oriental pantomime, which Winthrop Ames brought to the
Casino in New York, is the work of Max Reinhardt, a progressive German
manager. It has been produced throughout Germany and in London, with
great success, and now comes to America. 'Sumurun' deserves notice
because it is a great novelty, but especially because it has certain
lessons for us in America.

The story of the pantomime is a more or less lurid eastern melodrama,
based on the Arabian Nights. A hunchback is in love with a beautiful
young dancer, who hates him. He sells her to a fierce old sheik, to
get her out of the way of another lover, the sheik's son. Then he
takes poison. Sumurun, the sheik's chief wife, favors a handsome cloth
merchant called Nur-al-Din, whom she manages to smuggle into the harem
in a chest of silks. The intruder is, of course, discovered by the
sheik, who is warned of the treachery below, as he is about to kill
his son, whom he has found in the room with his new dancer. He has
Nur-al-Din at his mercy when the supposedly poisoned hunchback slips in
and stabs him. The lovers are united and the inmates of the harem set
free.

It is true that there is nothing strikingly original nor remarkable in
the outline of the story. That is impossible in a wordless play. Bernard
Shaw, speaking of a pantomime with music, 'A Pierrot's Life,' produced
some years ago in London, says, 'I am conscious of the difficulty of
making any but