nd Miss Virginia Harned. I mention them in the order in
which they appeared, which is not necessarily that of superior merit.
They came in at the fag end of a tired season, dragging a load of
pitiful dramatic bones. Hope ran high, but fell in sheer despondency.
In spite of the fact that the poet prefers to picture hope as
springing, I think that in this case it may be better portrayed as
running. There is a sensation of panic in the race.

Miss Bingham came to town with a very swollen "comedy-drama," called
"Mademoiselle Marni," from the pen of a "monsoor," programmed as Henri
Dumay--said to be an American "monsoor" at that. This actress affects
French plays for reasons that have never been explained, and that
certainly do not appear. As a "star," she is of course entitled to
treat herself to any luxury that may seem to tempt her histrionic
appetite, and the Gallic siren evidently appeals to her. It is not
likely that there will be international complications, although the
provocation must at times be keen.

"Mademoiselle Marni" was one of those impossible chromos that might
have been designed for the mere purpose of giving one's sense of humor
a chance to ventilate itself. In the serious theater-goer--and one is
bound to consider him--it awoke amazement. How is it that at rehearsal
a dozen presumably sane people can "pass" such an effort, he must have
asked himself? Why is it that in a theatrical venture that costs a
great deal of money, there are no misgivings? The serious theater-goer
is never able to answer these questions.

It is almost proverbial that the most hopeless sort of theatrical
enterprise--if conventional--never languishes for lack of funds. Try
and start a solid business scheme, in which you can calculate results
in black and white, and the difficulties and discouragements will be
almost insuperable. Endeavor to obtain money for an invention or
innovation that has success written across it in luminous letters, and
you will "strike a snag," as the rude phrase goes, with marvelous
celerity. But a bad play--one that to the unsophisticated
theater-usher or to the manager's scrubwoman must perforce appear as
such--experiences no such fate. This is one of the marvels of
theaterdom.

In the case of "Mademoiselle Marni" Miss Bingham herself must have
spent an enormous sum that she would probably have hesitated to invest
in some enterprise sane or possible. The play was a turgid coagulation
of illogical epi