made up by a successful one in another. The type of play that captivates the west may not go at all in the east, and the other way about. There are plays now on the road, and which have been there literally for years, doing excellent business, which have never ventured to storm the very rocky coast bounding New York. And there are plays which have had crowded houses in the metropolis which have slumped, and deservedly so, most dismally when they were taken out where audiences were possessed of a clearer vision. Hence it is easy to see that Mr. Walker, playing in both the east and the west, in small cities and in large ones, can do what the New Theater and the Playhouse could not do. True, they could send their companies out on tour, but the New Theater with its huge stage and panoramic scenery could find but few theaters which could house it, and the whole idea of both that and Miss George's company was a fixed repertory theater. Indeed in both of them the faults of the "star" system were never wholly absent.

The facts that I have been able to give here seem to point to but one conclusion. That is, that Stuart Walker's repertory company stands numerically on a par with anything else of the kind ever attempted in the United States, and that it is not unworthy of comparison with the best repertory work in England. It must be borne in mind that, in some measure, all this has been done on a fairly small scale. There has not been the money at hand to do it otherwise, nor has there been the necessity. The company may be compared better with the Gaiety of Manchester than with the Duke of York's Theater. And too, as with the Gaiety, many of the players have been relatively unknown before their advent on the Portmanteau stage. It is the definite mission, or some part of it at any rate, of the repertory company to encourage new dramatists, new players, and new stage effects when such encouragement is advisable. To be merely different is by no means to be worth while.

The three plays included in this volume have all been presented successfully both in the east and in the west. The two long plays—The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree and Jonathan Makes a Wish—both have the distinction of being popular with audiences and unpopular with critics, a condition of affairs not as unique as it might seem. As for the third, The Very Naked Boy, it is a thoroughly delightful trifle, unimportant as drama, yet very perfect in itself, and has been liked by nearly everyone. Combining, as it does, comedy and sentiment, it possesses all the elements that go to make for success with the average audience.

The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree is founded on an old Japanese legend, how old no one knows. Mr. Walker became interested in Japanese folk-lore through a collection of ballads; it is amusing to observe how his fondness for ballads has followed him through all his work, and this play was the result. From the first it went well. Apparently no one could resist the pathos of the intensely human story which culminated in so tragic a form. One might think that the appeal in a play of this type, written by an author so well known as an artist in stagecraft, would be largely visual. While that appeal is unquestionably there in abundance, the real essence of the tale is the vitally human quality of its characters. One is indeed inclined to believe that we take our pleasures sadly, when he has seen an audience quite dissolved in tears at a performance of this play, and all the while enjoying themselves unutterably. It is a drama of imagination and of emotion. The cold, hard, and more often than not deceiving light of the intellect plays but a small part. It is the human heart with its passions, its fears, its regrets, and its aspirations that concerns us here; not the human mind with its essentially microcosmic point of view, and its petty, festering egoism. The play is beautiful because it is true, and equally it is true because it is beautiful. It seems to me quite the best and soundest piece of work Mr. Walker has done so far, though he himself prefers his later play, Jonathan Makes a Wish.

This last play is more realistic—stupid term!—than anything of a serious nature that the author has so far attempted. It is, however, the realism of Barrie rather than that of Brieux, and this at any rate is consoling. The first act is extraordinary, splendid in thought, in technique, and in execution. Therein lies the trouble, if trouble there be. Neither of the two acts following can reach the level of the first, and with the opening of the second act the play gradually, though hardly perceptibly, declines, not in interest, but in strength. The transposition of the character of the Tramp from an easy going good nature in the first act to that of a Dickens villain in the second may require explanation. The last sensation the boy has is that of the blow on his head, and his last visualization is that of the Tramp's face bending over him. Thus, in his delirium, the two would inevitably be associated. The story of the delirium, the second act, is peculiarly well done. One feels the slight haziness of outline, the great consequence of actually inconsequential events, the morbid terror lurking always in the near background, which are a very part and parcel of that strange psychological condition which is here made to play a spiritual part. The last act suffers for want of material. In reality, all that is necessary is to wind up the play speedily and happily. It seems probable that the introduction of the deliciously charming Frenchwoman, played so delightfully by Margaret Mower, would give the needed color and substance to this portion. As it is, one feels a little something lacking—but only a little. That the play is, as one pseudo-critic remarked, an argument in favor of infant playwrights, is too absurd to discuss. If it argues at all, it is that the relationship between the child world and the adult must be democratic, not tyrannic, and that flowers grow, like weeds, only when they are encouraged, not trod upon. The play is interesting, true, and imaginative to a degree; if it is not wholly satisfactory, it but partakes of the faults of virtue. Audiences, young, old, metropolitan and urban, have responded to the work in a manner which left no doubt of their approval. In New York it was slow in taking hold, and unfortunately the company was obliged to leave to fill other engagements just at the time when a more definite success was at hand. In the west the spirit of the thing caught at once; there was no hesitation there.

From the beginning there has been a very definite plan in Mr. Walker's mind as to what his objective point was to be, and especially in view of what I have said of his company in connection with repertory it may be interesting to suggest the outline of that plan here. This is no less than to establish in some city a permanent repertory theater and company, and to use the Portmanteau Theater and company for touring purposes. It is an amusing thought; the little theater would shoot out from under the wing of its parent as a raiding party detaches itself from its company, but the consequences would be, one hopes, less destructive on both sides. The thought, however, is really much more than amusing; it is of very real consequence and importance. It will readily be seen that in this we have a combination of the advantages of both the stationary and the touring repertory company, and hence, double the chances of success. And Mr. Walker would by no means be restricted to one Portmanteau Theater. If conditions warranted it he could as easily construct and send out a dozen on the road, taking his work into every