ay them by for the next dish. Of course the English company is not
guilty of such solecisms.

The original troupe stuffs a napkin, half-way in size between a
bath-towel and a tablecloth, inside its neck-band so as to protect its
clothes against the little _taches_ concerning which, as a rule, it is
more anxious in relation to its costume than its character--in the play;
but our better-bred players ignore this, and merely spread their
"serviettes" upon their unimperilled knees. Has anyone ever seen a
British player, even when he called himself "Ongri" or "Gontrang," wipe
his plate with a piece of bread and swallow the latter rapturously?

It may be contended that the English players are wise, perhaps without
knowing it. Unadulterated truth sometimes comes off second best in the
theatre, as is proved by the ancient story of the actor who was hissed
because instead of imitating the squeaks of a pig he pinched the tail of
a real porker in a poke; upon the stage a little truth is sometimes
dangerous, a great deal often fatal. As a last word, in these as in all
other germane matters our British productions are vastly more accurate
than those that come from the other side of the Atlantic. It may be the
fact that the good Americans, when they die, go to Paris; they do not
take the trouble to learn anything beforehand concerning the French.
This, however, is not remarkable; there are very few really French
people in Paris.

CHAPTER VII

THE MORALITY OF OUR DRAMA

Mr Harry Lauder on the Morals of our Drama

A little while ago Mr Harry Lauder made some statements to a
representative of _The Daily Chronicle_ concerning the relations between
music-halls and theatres. Some readers may be aware that Mr Harry Lauder
is a popular music-hall singer, and by many people regarded as the chief
of his calling. Consequently his utterances have a little importance.

According to Mr Lauder a gulf exists between the theatres and the
music-halls, and it is due to the fact that the playhouses traffic in
immorality and the halls are pure. The variety theatres shudder at the
thought of presenting plays that introduce people who are or have been
unduly intimate without marriage. Let us use the words of the stern
moralist: "Now, take certain plays produced in certain theatres. The
curtain rises, and you ask yourself the question, 'Will they marry?'"
The attitude reminds one a little of the dear ladies at the seaside who
use prism field-