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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