unwashedappearance；　but　the　stage　peasant　seems　to　spend　all　his
  wages　on　soap　and　hair…oil。
  They　are　always　round　the　corneror　rather　round　the　two　cornersand
  they　come　on　in　a　couple　of　streams　and　meet　in　the　center；　and　when
  they　are　in　their　proper　position　they　smile。
  There　is　nothing　like　the　stage　peasants'　smile　in　this　worldnothing
  so　perfectly　inane；　so　calmly　imbecile。
  They　are　so　happy。　　They　don't　look　it；　but　we　know　they　are　because
  they　say　so。　　If　you　don't　believe　them；　they　dance　three　steps　to　the
  right　and　three　steps　to　the　left　back　again。　　They　can't　help　it。　　It
  is　because　they　are　so　happy。
  When　they　are　more　than　usually　rollicking　they　stand　in　a　semicircle；
  with　their　hands　on　each　other's　shoulders；　and　sway　from　side　to
  side；　trying　to　make　themselves　sick。　　But　this　is　only　when　they　are
  simply　bursting　with　joy。
  Stage　peasants　never　have　any　work　to　do。
  Sometimes　we　see　them　going　to　work；　sometimes　coming　home　from　work；
  but　nobody　has　ever　seen　them　actually　at　work。　　They　could　not　afford
  to　workit　would　spoil　their　clothes。
  They　are　very　sympathetic；　are　stage　peasants。　　They　never　seem　to
  have　any　affairs　of　their　own　to　think　about；　but　they　make　up　for
  this　by　taking　a　three…hundred…horse…power　interest　in　things　in　which
  they　have　no　earthly　concern。
  What　particularly　rouses　them　is　the　heroine's　love　affairs。　　They
  could　listen　to　them　all　day。
  They　yearn　to　hear　what　she　said　to　him　and　to　be　told　what　he　replied
  to　her；　and　they　repeat　it　to　each　other。
  In　our　own　love…sick　days　we　often　used　to　go　and　relate　to　various
  people　all　the　touching　conversations　that　took　place　between　our
  lady…love　and　ourselves；　but　our　friends　never　seemed　to　get　excited
  over　it。　　On　the　contrary；　a　casual　observer　might　even　have　been　led
  to　the　idea　that　they　were　bored　by　our　recital。　　And　they　had　trains
  to　catch　and　men　to　meet　before　we　had　got　a　quarter　through　the　job。
  Ah；　how　often　in　those　days　have　we　yearned　for　the　sympathy　of　a
  stage　peasantry；　who　would　have　crowded　round　us；　eager　not　to　miss
  one　word　of　the　thrilling　narrative；　who　would　have　rejoiced　with　us
  with　an　encouraging　laugh；　and　have　condoled　with　us　with　a　grieved
  〃Oh；〃　and　who　would　have　gone　off；　when　we　had　had　enough　of　them；
  singing　about　it。
  By　the　way；　this　is　a　very　beautiful　trait　in　the　character　of　the
  stage　peasantry；　their　prompt　and　unquestioning　compliance　with　the
  slightest　wish　of　any　of　the　principals。
  〃Leave　me；　friends；〃　says　the　heroine；　beginning　to　make　preparations
  for　weeping；　and　before　she　can　turn　round　they　are　clean　goneone
  lot　to　the　right；　evidently　making　for　the　back　entrance　of　the
  public…house；　and　the　other　half　to　the　left；　where　they　visibly　hide
  themselves　behind　the　pump　and　wait　till　somebody　else　wants　them。
  The　stage　peasantry　do　not　talk　much；　their　strong　point　being　to
  listen。　　When　they　cannot　get　any　more　information　about　the　state　of
  the　heroine's　heart；　they　like　to　be　told　long　and　complicated　stories
  about　wrongs　done　years　ago　to　people　that　they　never　heard　of。　　They
  seem　to　be　able　to　grasp　and　understand　these　stories　with　ease。　　This
  makes　the　audience　envious　of　them。
  When　the　stage　peasantry　do　talk；　however；　they　soon　make　up　for　lost
  time。　　They　start　off　all　together　with　a　suddenness　that　nearly
  knocks　you　over。
  They　all　talk。　　Nobody　listens。　　Watch　any　two　of　them。　　They　are　both
  talking　as　hard　as　they　can　go。　　They　have　been　listening　quite　enough
  to　other　people：　　you　can't　expect　them　to　listen　to　each　other。　　But
  the　conversation　under　such　conditions　must　be　very　trying。
  And　then　they　flirt　so　sweetly！　so　idyllicly！
  It　has　been　our　privilege　to　see　real　peasantry　flirt；　and　it　has
  always　struck　us　as　a　singularly　solid　and　substantial　affairmakes
  one　think；　somehow；　of　a　steam…roller　flirting　with　a　cowbut　on　the
  stage　it　is　so　sylph…like。　　She　has　short　skirts；　and　her　stockings
  are　so　much　tidier　and　better　fitting　than　these　things　are　in　real
  peasant　life；　and　she　is　arch　and　coy。　　She　turns　away　from　him　and
  laughssuch　a　silvery　laugh。　　And　he　is　ruddy　and　curly　haired　and
  has　on　such　a　beautiful　waistcoat！　how　can　she　help　but　love　him？　　And
  he　is　so　tender　and　devoted　and　holds　her　by　the　waist；　and　she　slips
  round　and　comes　up　the　other　side。　　Oh；　it　is　so　bewitching！
  The　stage　peasantry　like　to　do　their　love…making　as　much　in　public　as
  possible。　　Some　people　fancy　a　place　all　to　themselves　for　this　sort
  of　thingwhere　nobody　else　is　about。　　We　ourselves　do。　　But　the　stage
  peasant　is　more　sociably　inclined。　　Give　him　the　village　green；　just
  outside　the　public…house；　or　the　square　on　market…day　to　do　his
  spooning　in。
  They　are　very　faithful；　are　stage　peasants。　　No　jilting；　no
  fickleness；　no　breach　of　promise。　　If　the　gentleman　in　pink　walks　out
  with　the　lady　in　blue　in　the　first　act；　pink　and　blue　will　be　married
  in　the　end。　　He　sticks　to　her　all　through　and　she　sticks　to　him。
  Girls　in　yellow　may　come　and　go；　girls　in　green　may　laugh　and
  dancethe　gentleman　in　pink　heeds　them　not。　　Blue　is　his　color；　and
  he　never　leaves　it。　　He　stands　beside　it；　he　sits　beside　it。　　He
  drinks　with　her；　he　smiles　with　her；　he　laughs　with　her；　he　dances
  with　her；　he　comes　on　with　her；　he　goes　off　with　her。
  When　the　time　comes　for　talking　he　talks　to　her　and　only　her；　and　she
  talks　to　him　and　only　him。　　Thus　there　is　no　jealousy；　no　quarreling。
  But　we　should　prefer　an　occasional　change　ourselves。
  There　are　no　married　people　in　stage　villages　and　no　children
  （consequently；　of　course…happy　village！　oh；　to　discover　it　and　spend　a
  month　there！）。　　There　are　just　the　same　number　of　men　as　there　are
  women　in　all　stage　villages；　and　they　are　all　about　the　same　age　and
  each　young　man　loves　some　young　woman。　　But　they　never　marry。
  They　talk　a　lot　about　it；　but　they　never　do　it。　　The　artful　beggars！
  They　see　too　much　what　it's　like　among　the　principals。
  The　stage　peasant　is　fond　of　drinking；　and　when　he　drinks　he　likes　to
  let　you　know　he　is　drinking。　　None　of　your　quiet　half…pint　inside　the
  bar　for　him。　　He　likes　to　come　out　in　the　street　and　sing　about　it　and
  do　tricks　with　it；　such　as　turning　it　topsy…turvy　over　his　head。
  Notwithstanding　all　this　he　is　moderate；　mind　you。　　You　can't　say　he
  takes　too　much。　　One　small　jug　of　ale　among　forty　is　his　usual
  allowance。
  He　has　a　keen　sense　of　humor　and　is　easily　amused。　　There　is　something
  almost　pathetic　about　the　way　he　goes　into　convulsions　of　laughter
  over　such　very　small　jokes。　　How　a　man　like　that　would　enjoy　a　real
  joke！　　One　day　he　will　perhaps　hear　a　real　joke。　　Who　knows？　　It　will；
  however；　probably　kill　him。　　One　grows　to　love　the　stage　peasant　after
  awhile。　　He　is　so　good；　so　child…like；　so　unworldly。　　He　realizes
  one's　ideal　of　Christianity。
  THE　GOOD　OLD　MAN。
  He　has　lost　his　wife。　　But　he　knows　where　she　isamong　the　angels！
  She　isn't　all　gone；　because　the　heroine　has　her　hair。　　〃Ah；　you've　got
  your　mother's　hair；〃　says　the　good　old　man；　feeling　the　girl's　head
  all　over　as　she　kneels　beside　him。　　Then　they　all　wipe　away　a　tear。
  The　people　on　the　stage　think　very　highly　of　the　good　old　man；　but
  they　don't　encourage　him　much　after　the　first　act。　　He　generally　dies
  in　the　first　act。
  If　he　does　not　seem　likely　to　die　they　murder　him。
  He　is　a　most　unfortunate　old　gentleman。　　Anything　he　is　mixed　up　in
  seems　bound　to　go　wrong。　　If　he　is　manager　or　director　of　a　bank；
  smash　it　goes　before　even　one　act　is　over。　　His　particular　firm　is
  always　on　the　verge　of　bankruptcy。　　We　have　only　to　be　told　that　he
  has　put　all　his　savings　into　a　companyno　matter　how　sound　and
  promising　an　affair　it　may　always　have　been　and　may　still　seemto
  know　that　that　company　is　a　〃goner。〃
  No　power　on　earth　can　save　it　after　once　the　good　old　man　has　become　a
  shareholder。
  If　we　lived　in　stage…land　and　were　asked　to　join　any　financial　scheme；
  our　first　question　would　be：
  〃Is　the　good　old　man　in　it？〃　　If　so；　that　would　decide　us。
  When　the　good　old　man　is　a　trustee　for　any　one　he　can　battle　against
  adversity　much　longer。　　He　is　a　plucky　old　fellow；　and　while　that
  trust　money　lasts　he　keeps　a　brave　heart　and　fights　on　boldly。　　It　is
  not　until　he　has　spent　the　last　penny　of　it　that　he　gives　way。
  It　then　flashes　across　the　old　man's　mind　that　his　motives　for　having
  lived　in　luxury　upon　that　trust　money　for　years　may　possibly　be
  misunderstood。　　The　worldthe　hollow；　heartless　worldwill　call　it　a
  swindle　and　regard　him　generally　as　a　precious　old　fraud。
  This　idea　quite　troubles　the　good　old　man。
  But　the　world　really　ought　not　to　blame　him。　　No　one；　we　are　sure；
  could　be　more　ready　and　willing　to　make　amends　（when　found　out）；　and
  to　put　matters　right　he　will　cheerfully　sacrifice　his　daughter's
  happiness　and　marry　her　to　the　villain。
  The　villain；　by　the　way；　has　never　a　penny　to　bless　himself　with；　and
  cannot　even　pay　his　own　debts；　let　alone　helping　anybody　else　out　of　a
  scrape。　　But　the　good　old　man　does　not　think　of　this。
  Our　own　personal　theory；　based　upon　a　careful　comparison　of
  similarities；　is　that　the　good　old　man　is　in　reality　the　stage　he