prised me to discover that
I was not in the least excited at the thought of this, my first
introduction to "behind the scenes."

I recall my father's asking a young soldier on his return from the
Crimea what had been his sensations at the commencement of his first
charge.

"Well," replied the young fellow, "I was worrying all the time,
remembering I had rushed out leaving the beer tap running in the
canteen, and I could not forget it."

So far as the stage I found my way in safety. Pausing for a moment and
glancing round, my impression was not so much disillusionment concerning
all things theatrical as realisation of my worst forebodings. In that
one moment all glamour connected with the stage fell from me, nor has it
since ever returned to me. From the tawdry decorations of the auditorium
to the childish make-belief littered around on the stage, I saw the
Theatre a painted thing of shreds and patches--the grown child's
doll's-house. The Drama may improve us, elevate us, interest and teach
us. I am sure it does; long may it flourish! But so likewise does the
dressing and undressing of dolls, the opening of the front of the house,
and the tenderly putting of them away to bed in rooms they completely
fill, train our little dears to the duties and the joys of motherhood.
Toys! what wise child despises them? Art, fiction, the musical glasses:
are they not preparing us for the time, however distant, when we shall
at last be grown up?

In a maze of ways beyond the stage I lost myself, but eventually, guided
by voices, came to a large room furnished barely with many chairs
and worn settees, and here I found some twenty to thirty ladies
and gentlemen already seated. They were of varying ages, sizes
and appearance, but all of them alike in having about them that
impossible-to-define but impossible-to-mistake suggestion of
theatricality. The men were chiefly remarkable for having no hair on
their faces, but a good deal upon their heads; the ladies, one and
all, were blessed with remarkably pink and white complexions and
exceptionally bright eyes. The conversation, carried on in subdued but
penetrating voices, was chiefly of "him" and "her." Everybody appeared
to be on an affectionate footing with everybody else, the terms of
address being "My dear," "My love," "Old girl," "Old chappie," Christian
names--when name of any sort was needful--alone being employed. I
hesitated for a minute with the door in my hand, fearing I had s