dramatic advantage was gained by the mise en scene.

The abrupt exits and entrances, which are necessitated on the real stage
by the inevitable limitations of space, were in many cases done away
with, and we saw the characters coming gradually towards us through brake
and underwood, or passing away down the slope till they were lost in some
deep recess of the forest; the effect of distance thus gained being
largely increased by the faint wreaths of blue mist that floated at times
across the background. Indeed I never saw an illustration at once so
perfect and so practical of the aesthetic value of smoke.

As for the players themselves, the pleasing naturalness of their method
harmonised delightfully with their natural surroundings. Those of them
who were amateurs were too artistic to be stagey, and those who were
actors too experienced to be artificial. The humorous sadness of Jaques,
that philosopher in search of sensation, found a perfect exponent in Mr.
Hermann Vezin. Touchstone has been so often acted as a low comedy part
that Mr. Elliott's rendering of the swift sententious fool was a welcome
change, and a more graceful and winning Phebe than Mrs. Plowden, a more
tender Celia than Miss Schletter, a more realistic Audrey than Miss
Fulton, I have never seen. Rosalind suffered a good deal through the
omission of the first act; we saw, I mean, more of the saucy boy than we
did of the noble girl; and though the persiflage always told, the poetry
was often lost; still Miss Calhoun gave much pleasure; and Lady Archibald
Campbell's Orlando was a really remarkable performance. Too melancholy
some seemed to think it. Yet is not Orlando lovesick? Too dreamy, I
heard it said. Yet Orlando is a poet. And even admitting that the
vigour of the lad who tripped up the Duke's wrestler was hardly
sufficiently emphasised, still in the low music of Lady Archibald
Campbell's voice, and in the strange beauty of her movements and