course, that's
Rosebery?

SHOPMAN (_nervously_): Y-e-s. (_Brightly changing subject_.) What do
you think of Mr. Sargent's?

D. C. (_now worked up_). Oh! that's very good. Yes; that's the best of
all. I see it's sold. I should have bought that one if it hadn't been
sold. I wish Max would do a caricature of (_describes a possible
caricature_). Tell him I suggested it; he knows me quite well (_glancing
round_). He really is tremendous. Are they going to be published?

SHOPMAN. Yes; by Methuen & Co. (_Hastily going over to new-comer_.)
Yes, madam, that is Mr. Arthur Balfour; it's considered the _best_
caricature in the exhibition--the likeness is so particularly striking;
and as a pure piece of draughtsmanship it is certainly the finest drawing
in the room. No; that's not so good of Lord Althorp, though it _was_ the
first to sell. (_Turning to another client_.) Yes, sir; he is Mr.
Beerbohm Tree's half-brother.

(1907.)

_To_ MRS. BEERBOHM.

THE ETHICS OF REVIEWING.

The 'Acropolis,' a review of literature, science, art, politics, society,
and the drama, is, as every one knows, our leading literary weekly. Its
original promoters decided on its rather eccentric title with a symbolism
now outmoded. The 'Acropolis' was to be impregnable to outside
contributors, and the editor was always to be invisible. All the vile
and secret arts of reclame and puffery were to find no place in its
immaculate pages. One afternoon some time ago a number of gentlemen,
more or less responsible for the production of the 'Acropolis,' were
seated round the fire in the smoking-room of a certain club. For the
last hour they had been discussing with some warmth the merits of signed
or unsigned articles and the reviewing of books. A tall, good-looking
man, who pretended to be unpopular, was advocating the anonymous. 'There
is something so cowardly about a signed article,' he was saying. 'It is
nearly as bad as insulting a man in public, when there is no redress
except to call for the police. And that is ridiculous. If I am slated
by an anonymous writer, it is always in my power to pay no attention,
whereas if the slate is signed, I am obliged to take notice of some kind.
I must either deny the statements, often at a great sacrifice of truth,
or if I assault the writer there is always the risk of his being
physically stronger than I am. No; anonymous attack is the only weapon
for gentlemen.'

'To leave for a