Clementina, it would be so easy to make him _our_ dog. Don't you
think we'd better?"

"I--I don't know," faltered Miss Clementina.

But the words were muffled against Mr. Maclin's coat, and he took the
liberty of assuming that she did know.

LOVE AND YOUTH

Butterfly,
Your little day flit on;
Youth drifts as gayly by,
And soon as you is gone.

Wayside flower,
Be darling of the day;
Youth shares your sunny hour,
And with you slips away.

Woodland bird,
Hush not one fervent strain;
Love's voice with yours is heard,
Then neither heard again.

JOHN VANCE CHENEY.

THE DRAMATIC SEASON'S LAST MOMENT

By ALAN DALE

Going--going----

Just as, with a sputter and a flicker and a last expiring tremor, we
had begun to realize that the going season was, indeed, nearly gone,
something happened. There was a rally, and a brief return to
animation. The corpselike season sat up and waved its hands. An
electric current, applied to its extremities by one admirable actress
and one enterprising manager, was the cause of this surprising change,
and the writing of epitaphs was temporarily postponed.

The return of the season to a semblance of interesting activity was
due to the arrival in our midst of Miss Marie Tempest, who came from
England just as the sad troupe of her unsuccessful countrymen had
returned to that land. Miss Tempest, with a woman's daring, and the
true spirit of "cussedness," took every risk, and, though even the
enthusiastic and misinformed London papers have been obliged to avoid
pet allusions to the "furore created in America" by the unfortunate
English actors who failed here this season, the admirable little
comedienne had no qualms.

Nor had her manager, Mr. Charles Frohman. It is pleasant, at times, to
record managerial enterprise that cannot possibly be a bid for
pecuniary reward. Mr. Frohman, whose name is often unfortunately
mentioned in connection with the sad, cruel, oppressive, commercial
speculators in dramatic "goods," belongs absolutely and utterly to
another class. It is ten thousand pities that the enthusiasm and real
artistic fervor of this undaunted, farseeing manager should be
shadowed by this association. Mr. Frohman actually sent Miss Marie
Tempest and her English company over from London for a short stay here
of four weeks, merely to let us sample her new play, "The Freedom of
Suzanne," that h