uer, but they fill
a place.

Few of us do more; some of us merely fill a column, and wish we did that
duty as conscientiously as most of these poor creatures do theirs, for,
though obviously determined not to enjoy themselves, they come
punctually, do not cause inconvenience by going out between the acts to
waste money on high-priced refreshments, and remain in their places to
the bitter end--unlike the cash patrons, so many of whom bustle away
brutally towards the close of the entertainment for fear lest they
should miss the chance of earning a nightmare at a fashionable
restaurant. Seeing what service they render to the managers the
deadheads are perhaps entitled to the protection of the phrase "_de
mortuis_."

The foregoing article brought several letters, amongst them one that
deserves a little consideration. All responsibility is disclaimed for
the letter that is published verbatim:

DEAR SIR,--I have lately read an article by you on the subject of the
matinee hat, with almost every word of which I have the honour of
expressing my entire disagreement. Although your views on the topic may
be absurd, they show that you have a mind capable of appreciating more
than one side of a case; so I venture to write to you about the great
question of the day, the proposed suppression of the deadhead.
"Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend," to use the words of the bard;
to think that after all our services to them, the managers, too blind to
see the obvious causes of their distress, should dream of abolishing
the "harmless necessary" deadhead, who often has rendered to them
assistance like that of the mouse "i' the fable" to the lion.

Permit me to discuss the matter seriously. Let me begin by employing,
with trifling modification, a famous phrase by one of the dramatists of
the land from which most of our English drama comes: "There are
deadheads and deadheads!" They may be put into two main groups--the
first-night deadheads and the other-nights deadheads--and there are
subdivisions. Few save those immediately concerned would mourn if the
first group were abolished--you can guess that I do not belong to it.
Yet I am well acquainted with the group, since a cousin of mine, long
time a popular actor, has been of late a too-frequent attendant at these
functions.

Of first-night deadheads there are four varieties: Friends of the
management, including their brother pros.; friends of the author;
friends of principal players