the ground and retard progress. In
youth, having few theories of our own or that have cost us enough labour
in acquirement to seem very precious, we tend to be over-hospitable to
new ideas and accept dangerous guests.

The notices of the veterans, even of the jaded, upon the average work
are sounder, as a rule, than those of the young hands, because the
latter very often mistake things merely new to them for things actually
new, and they are kinder for the reason that the writers know how great
are the difficulties in the way of writing plays from a novel standpoint
and of getting them produced when written. There is less violence in
their views.

Happy the critic during the years when he is old enough to be cautious
about accepting new ideas and young enough to be enthusiastic concerning
them after careful consideration, when he is so mature as not to desire
to stagger the orthodox by the impudence of his opinions, and
sufficiently youthful to be willing to shock the conservative by the
audacity of his views. He may then seem jaded because he is not easily
moved, but will be quicker to give encouragement to sincere effort, to
perceive talent imperfectly manifested, and to appreciate technical
triumphs than when he was younger and yet able to welcome novel ideas
even if they assail cherished theories.

His Unpaid Labours

Probably many of the craft have wasted a good deal of the last few
first-nightless weeks in the trying task of reading plays, not the
printed plays by dramatists of reputation, but the manuscripts with
which we, or some of us, are flooded. It is hard to guess why strangers
should assume that we are willing to spend our time in reading their
plays, but they do. Some apparently deem it to be part of our duties,
and even believe that there exists a Government fund which pays our
expenses of postages and stationery, for many of the amateur authors
make no provision for the return of their work. Occasionally there comes
a suggestion that we are really conferring no favour because the
pleasure of reading the play will pay for our pains. Some imagine us to
be agents for the managers. Even the proposal to pay a commission if we
place the piece is not rare; now and then it is wrapped up gracefully,
but frequently is expressed in the bluntest fashion.

Upon consideration of the batch lately waded through several things
stand out. Firstly, most of them exhibit no trace of cleverness; so far
as one can