vidence even remotely bearing on the sin of
cruelty? Not a rap. The worse that the doctor could work himself up
to saying was that though the children were "exceedingly" well, the
conditions would be serious in case of illness. If the doctor will tell
me any conditions that would be comic in case of illness, I shall attach
more weight to his argument.

Now this is the worst effect of modern worry. The mad doctor has
gone mad. He is literally and practically mad; and still he is quite
literally and practically a doctor. The only question is the old one,
Quis docebit ipsum doctorem? Now cruelty to children is an utterly
unnatural thing; instinctively accursed of earth and heaven. But neglect
of children is a natural thing; like neglect of any other duty, it is
a mere difference of degree that divides extending arms and legs in
calisthenics and extending them on the rack. It is a mere difference of
degree that separates any operation from any torture. The thumb-screw
can easily be called Manicure. Being pulled about by wild horses can
easily be called Massage. The modern problem is not so much what people
will endure as what they will not endure. But I fear I interrupt.... The
boiling oil is boiling; and the Tenth Mandarin is already reciting the
"Seventeen Serious Principles and the Fifty-three Virtues of the Sacred
Emperor."

THE ENCHANTED MAN

When I arrived to see the performance of the Buckinghamshire Players,
who acted Miss Gertrude Robins's POT LUCK at Naphill a short time ago,
it is the distressing, if scarcely surprising, truth that I entered very
late. This would have mattered little, I hope, to any one, but that late
comers had to be forced into front seats. For a real popular English
audience always insists on crowding in the back part of the hall; and
(as I have found in many an election) will endure the most unendurable
taunts rather than come forward. The English are a modest people; that
is why they are entirely ruled and run by the few of them that happen to
be immodest. In theatrical affairs the fact is strangely notable; and in
most playhouses we find the bored people in front and the eager people
behind.

As far as the performance went I was quite the reverse of a bored
person; but I may have been a boring person, especially as I was thus
required to sit in the seats of the scornful. It will be a happy day in
the dramatic world when all ladies have to take off their hats and all
critics have