he feels
that, like being President of the United States, it is a disagreeable
job; but if the good of the party seems really to demand it he will do
it, though he wishes it distinctly understood that personally he hasn't
got a thing against Caesar.

In act 4 Brutus sits up late reading a story by E. P. Roe, and just as
he is in the most exciting part of it the ghost of the assassinated
Caesar appears and states that it will meet him with hard gloves at
Philippi. Brutus looks bored and says that he is not in condition, but
the ghost leaves it that way and Brutus looks still more bored till the
ghost goes out through a white oak door without opening it.

At Philippi, Brutus sees that there is no hope of police interference,
and so before time is called he inserts his sword into his being and
dies while the polite American audience puts on its overcoat and goes
out, looking over its shoulder to see that Brutus does not take
advantage of this moment, while the people are going away, to
resuscitate himself.

[Illustration]

The play is thoroughly enjoyable all the way through, especially Caesar's
funeral. The idea of introducing a funeral and engaging Mark Antony to
deliver the eulogy, with the understanding that he was to have his
traveling expenses paid and the privilege of selling the sermon to a
syndicate, shows genius on the part of the joint authors. All the way
through the play is good, but sad. There is no divertisement or tank in
it, but the funeral more than makes up for all that.

Where Portia begs Brutus, before the assassination, to tell her all and
let her in on the ground floor, and asks what the matter is, and he
claims that it is malaria, and she still insists and asks, "Dwell I but
in the suburbs of your good pleasure?" and he states, "You are my true
and honorable wife, as dear to me as are the ruddy drops that visit my
sad heart," I forgot myself and wept my new plug hat two-thirds full. It
is as good as anything there is in Josh Whitcomb's play.

Booth and Barrett have the making of good actors in them. I met both of
these gentlemen in Wyoming some years ago. We met by accident. They were
going to California and I was coming back. By some oversight we had both
selected the same track, and we were thrown together. I do not know
whether they will recall my face or not. I was riding on the sleeper
truck at the time of the accident. I always take a sleeper and always
did. I rode on the truck because