ies of a beginner in the profession, or what claims the theatre makes
upon her time. Very well. We will first suppose you a young and
attractive girl. You have been carefully reared and have been protected
by all the conventionalities of refined social life. Now you enter the
theatrical profession, depending solely upon your salary for your
support, meaning to become a great actress and to keep a spotless
reputation, and you will find your work cut out for you. At the stage
door you will have to leave quite a parcel of conventional rules. In the
first place, you will have to go about _alone_ at night as well as by
day. Your salary won't pay for a maid or escort of any kind. That is
very dreadful at first, but in time you will learn to walk swiftly,
with stony face, unseeing eyes, and ears deaf to those hyenas of the
city streets, who make life a misery to the unprotected woman. The rules
of a theatre are many and very exacting, and you must scrupulously obey
them or you will surely be forfeited a stated sum of money. There is no
gallantry in the management of a company, and these forfeits are
genuine, be you man or woman.

You have heard that cleanliness is next to godliness, here you will
learn that _punctuality_ is next to godliness. As you hope for fame here
and life hereafter, never be late to rehearsal. That is the theatrical
unpardonable sin! You will attend rehearsal at any hour of the day the
manager chooses to call you, but that is rarely, if ever, before 10 A.M.
Your legitimate means of attracting the attention of the management are
extreme punctuality and quick studying of your part. If you can come to
the second rehearsal perfect in your lines, you are bound to attract
attention. Your fellow-players will not love you for it, because they
will seem dull or lazy by comparison; but the stage manager will make a
note, and it may lead to better things.

Your gowns at this stage of your existence may cause you great anguish
of mind--I do not refer to their cost, but to their selection. You will
not be allowed to say, "I will wear white or I will wear pink," because
the etiquette of the theatre gives the leading lady the first choice of
colours, and after her the lady next in importance, you wearing what is
left.

In some New York theatres actresses have no word in the selection of
their gowns: they receive plates from the hand of the management, and
dress accordingly. This is enough to whiten the hair of a sensi