inent Socialist, who
occupied a box in the theatre where a play was given in which Socialism
is attacked, stood up and offered to harangue the audience between the
acts. The actor who played the role of the wicked capitalist came on
the stage and invited the audience to vote whether they cared to hear
the Socialist or him. The audience thereupon voted both down. But the
management the next Sunday evening very kindly offered the use of the
stage for a debate on Socialism, to which the leading Socialists and
anti-Socialists of the city were invited. The meeting was a great
success, and all the reporters in town were present, just as by some
singular coincidence they happened to be on the first night.

One of our most successful operatic managers--impressario, I believe,
is the more correct appellation--was about to produce the opera of
"Salome," which had been taken off the rival stage after its first
performance, on the assumption that New York was shocked. The singer
was not only to sing the part, if one can sing a Strauss opera, but was
also to dance it. Finally, about a week before the opera was produced,
a new soprano was engaged to sing another role hitherto taken by the
prospective Salome. Instantly the dread headlines on all the front
pages of the metropolitan press announced that Miss Garden would resign
before Madame Cavalieri should sing in any of _her_ roles. Mr.
Hammerstein's "eyes twinkled," as the reporters besieged him. He said
he guessed he could untangle matters. Out of the kindness of his heart
he had thought the rehearsals of "Salome" were too fatiguing for Miss
Garden, and so got assistance for her. After a three or four days'
operatic war, in which literally columns of printers' ink was shed, the
_entente cordiale_ was resumed, and the song-birds became doves of
peace again. The New York "Evening Post" printed the next day an
editorial entitled, "Genius in Advertising"; and a week later the
opera, or rather the song and dance of "Salome," was given, with seats
selling at ten dollars apiece, and "standing room only" signs at the
box-office.

This desire for publicity on the part of the histrionic profession goes
so far, that often absolute fakes are sent out to the poor,
unsuspecting editor. Here is a statement that was printed, let us hope
in good faith, in one of the Brooklyn papers not long ago. It referred
to the leading lady in a popular stock company.

Miss S. has a remarkably fine collec