familiar truth that, after all, nothing in this world is of small
consequence.

A DRAMATIC POINT.

BY ROBERT BARR,

Author of "In the Midst of Alarms," "A Typewritten Letter," etc.

In the bad days of Balmaceda, when Chili was rent in twain, and its
capital was practically a besieged city, two actors walked together
along the chief street of the place towards the one theatre that
was then open. They belonged to a French dramatic company that would
gladly have left Chili if it could; but being compelled by stress
of war to remain, the company did the next best thing, and gave
performances at the principal theatre on such nights as a paying
audience came.

A stranger would hardly have suspected, by the look of the streets,
that a deadly war was going on, and that the rebels--so called--were
almost at the city gates. Although business was ruined, credit dead,
and no man's life or liberty safe, the streets were filled with a
crowd that seemed bent on enjoyment and making the best of things.

As Jacques Dupre and Carlos Lemoine walked together they were talking
earnestly, not of the real war so close to their doors, but of the
mimic conflicts of the stage. M. Dupre was the leading man of the
company, and he listened with the amused tolerance of an elder man to
the energetic vehemence of the younger.

"You are all wrong, Dupre," cried Lemoine, "all wrong! I have studied
the subject. Remember I am saying nothing against your acting in
general. You know you have no greater admirer than I am, and that is
something to say when you know that the members of a dramatic company
are usually at loggerheads through jealousy."

"Speak for yourself, Lemoine. You know I am green with jealousy of
you. You are the rising star, and I am setting. You can't teach an old
dog new tricks, Carl, my boy."

"That's nonsense, Dupre. I wish you would consider this seriously. It
is because you are so good on the stage that I can't bear to see you
false to your art just to please the gallery. You should be above all
that."

"How can a man be above his gallery--the highest spot in the house?
Talk sense, Carlos, and I'll listen."

"Yes, you're flippant simply because you know you're wrong, and
dare not argue this matter soberly. Now she stabs you through the
heart--"

"No. False premises entirely. She says something about my wicked
heart, and evidently _intends_ to pierce that depraved organ; but a
woman never hits what she aims a