ers and "rough
diamonds," in "a mining town east of the Divide," were portrayed in
their struggles with civilization.

It was very droll. _Dave Lacy_, _Bud Young_, _Mr. Kelly_, _Bill
Ferguson_, _Lon Perry_ and _Gus Ferris_, all gorgeously uncouth, as
far as externals go, made an admirable onslaught in the direction of
the "dress suit." "Immaculate evening dress," as we call the garb of a
man who is rigged up in imitation of the elusive but energetic
restaurant waiter, has rarely been more humorously attacked. This
feature went much further than did the story of the play. But it
served to put an audience in such a good humor that the somewhat
trivial play itself seemed better than it really was. Certainly no
European playwright could have seen the ludicrous possibilities of
evening dress as amusingly as Mr. Armstrong did. Perchance Mr. Bernard
Shaw might have done so, but his cynicism would have marred the
prospect. There was no "pose" in the humor at the Hudson Theater.

The play had the advantage of being well acted. We often complain that
leading actors cannot wear evening dress gracefully. This time they
had to do their worst for it, and were asked to wear it as
ungracefully as they could. They were able to do it. Most of them were
comparatively unknown, but they were none the worse for that. John
Drew or William Faversham or Kyrle Bellew could not possibly have
pilloried evening dress as did the actors in "The Heir to the Hoorah."

"The Firm of Cunningham" succeeded "Mrs. Temple's Telegram," at the
little Madison Square Theater, but did not prove to be a worthy
successor. It was from the pen of Mr. Willis Steell, who rushed in
where angels fear to tread; or, in other words, invented a couple of
complex ladies, and then tried to explain them plausibly. There is no
more difficult task. One lady was a skittish matron, addicted to
betting on the races and to allowing a nice looking boy to kiss her;
the other was a white-muslin girl from Vassar, who fell in love with
that boy at remarkably short range.

It was very unsatisfactory. One woman was a cat, with whom we were
supposed to sympathize; the other had many of the characteristics of a
fool. Why label Vassar for the latter? It was, however, the married
woman who was the "heroine," and a key to her character was never
supplied. I like a key to complex ladies, and am not a bit ashamed to
admit it. I want their motives a-b-c'd for my use, in the case of
plays like "