some of the acrid party foisted mere misleading rubbish on the public.  Henceforth the infantile player will be seen no more.  Mr. Crummles will wave a stern hand from the shades where the children of dreams dwell, and the Phenomenon will be glad that she has passed from a prosaic earth.  Had the stern law-makers had their way thirty years ago, how many pretty sights should we have missed!  Little Marie Wilton would not have romped about the stage in her childish glee (she enjoyed the work from the first, and even liked playing in a draughty booth when the company of roaming “artists” could get no better accommodation).  Little Ellen Terry, too, would not have played in the Castle scene in “King John,” and crowds of worthy matrons would have missed having that “good cry” which they enjoy so keenly.  We are happy who saw all the Terrys, and Marie the witty who charmed Charles Dickens, and all the pretty mites who did so delight us when Mme. Katti Lanner marshalled them.  Does any reader wish to have a perfectly pleasant half-hour?  Let that reader get the number of “Fors Clavigera” which contains Mr. Ruskin’s description of the children who performed in the Drury Lane pantomime.  The kind critic was in ecstasies—­as well he might be—­and he talked with enthusiasm about the cleanliness, the grace, the perfectly happy discipline of the tiny folk.  Then, again, in “Time and Tide,” the great writer gives us the following exquisite passage about a little dancer who especially pleased him—­“She did it beautifully and simply, as a child ought to dance.  She was not an infant prodigy; there was no evidence in the finish and strength of her motion that she had been put to continual torture during half of her eight or nine years.  She did nothing more than any child—­well taught, but painlessly—­might do; she caricatured no older person, attempted no curious or fantastic skill; she was dressed decently, she moved decently, she looked and behaved innocently, and she danced her joyful dance with perfect grace, spirit, sweetness, and self-forgetfulness.”  How perfect!  There is not much suggestion of torture or premature wickedness in all this; and I wish that the wise and good man’s opinion might have been considered for a little while by some of the reformers.  For my part, I venture to offer a few remarks about the whole matter; for there are several considerations which were neglected by the debaters on both sides during the discussion.

First, then, I must solemnly say that I cannot advise any grown girl or young man to go upon the stage; and yet I see no harm in teaching little children to perform concerted movements in graceful ways.  This sounds like a paradox; but it is not paradoxical at all to those who have studied the question from the inside.  If a girl waits until she is eighteen before going on the stage, she has a good chance of being thrown into the company of women who do not dream of respecting her.  If she enters a provincial