And trembling at the idea of being attacked or sneered at in print, without one thought of asking what Herald this unknown represents, without remembering that Miller’s Pond or Somebody-else’s Corners may have a Herald she hastens to grant to this probably ignorant young lout the unchaperoned interview she would instantly refuse to a gentleman whose name was even well known to her; and trembling with fear and hope she will listen to his boastings “of the awful roasting he gave Billy This or Dick That,” referring thus to the most prominent actors of the day, or to his promises of puffs for herself “when old Brown or Smith are out of the office” (the managing and the city editors both being jealous of him, and blue pencilling him just for spite); and if Mr. Flotsam does not, without leave, bring up and present his chum, Mr. Jetsam, the young woman will be fortunate.

A little quiet thought will convince her that an editor would not assign such a person to report the burning of a barn or the interruption of a dog fight, and with deep mortification she will discover her mistake.  The trick is as old as it is contemptible, and many a great paper has had its name put to the dishonourable use of frightening a young actress into an acquaintance with a self-styled critic.

Does this seem a small matter to you?  Then you are mistaken.  There are few things more serious for a young woman than an unworthy or undesirable acquaintance.  She will be judged, not by her many correct friends, but by her one incorrect one.  Again, feeling fear of his power to work her injury, she ceases really to be a free agent, and Heaven knows what unwise concessions she may be flurried into; and of all the dangers visible or invisible in the path of a good girl, the most terrible is “opportunity.”  If you wish to avoid danger, if you wish to save yourself some face-reddening memory, give no one the “opportunity” to abuse your confidence, to wound you by word or deed.  Ought I to point out one other unpleasant possibility?  Temptation may approach the somewhat advanced young actress through money and power in the guise of the “patron of Art”—­not a common form of temptation by any means.  But what has been may be again, and it is none the easier to resist because it is unusual.  When a young girl, with hot impatience, feels she is not advancing as rapidly as she should, the wealthy “patron of Art” declares it is folly for her to plod along so slowly, that he will free her from all trammels, he will provide play, wardrobe, company, and show the world that she is already an artist.  To her trembling objection that she could only accept such tremendous aid from one of her own family, he would crushingly reply that “Art” (with a very big A) should rise above common conventionalities; that he does not think of her personally, but only the advance of professional “Art”; and if she must have it so, why-er, she may pay him back in the immediate future, though if she were the passionate lover of “Art” he had believed her to be, she would accept the freedom he offered and waste no thought on “ways and means” or “hows and whys.”