which the life of Dunbar has brought us. We must go back to the
days when the priests were the only learned people in the land,
when the monasteries were the only schools.

If we would picture to ourselves what these first English plays
were like, we must not think of a brilliantly lighted theater
pranked out and fine with red and gold and white such as we know.
We must think rather of some dim old church. Stately pillars
rise around us, and the outline of the arches is lost in the high
twilight of the roof. Behind the quaintly dressed players gleams
the great crucifix with its strange, sad figure and outstretched
arms which, under the flickering light of the high altar candles,
seems to stir to life. And beyond the circle of light, in the
soft darkness of the nave, the silent people kneel or stand to
watch.

It was in such solemn surroundings that our first plays were
played. And the stories that were acted were Bible stories.
There was no thought of irreverence in such acting. On the
contrary, these plays were performed "to exort the mindes of
common people to good devotion and holesome doctrine."

You remember when Caedmon sang, he made his songs of the stories
of Genesis and Exodus. And in this way, in those bookless days,
the people were taught the Bible stories. But you know that what
we learn by our ears is much harder to remember than what we
learn by our eyes. If we are only told a thing we may easily
forget it. But if we have seen it, or seen a picture of it, we
remember it much more easily. In those far-off days, however,
there were as few pictures as there were books in England. And