you a few hints as to how an audience should behave. I shall charge nothing
for the information, though I am frank to insinuate that it is worth a
deal--of the value, perhaps, of a great deal table.

First. Always take a lady with you to the play. It will please her,
whatever the bother to you. Besides, you will then be talked to. If you
make a mess of it in trying to unravel the plot, she will essentially aid
you in that direction. Nothing like a woman for a plot--especially if you
desire to plunge head foremost into one.

Second. If you have any loud conversation to indulge in, do it while the
play is going on. Possibly it may disturb your neighbors; but you do not
ask them to hear it. Hail Columbia! isn't this a free country? If you have
any private and confidential affairs to talk over, the theatre is the place
in which to do it. Possibly strangers may not comprehend all the bearings;
but that is not your fault. You do your best--who can do better?

Third. If you have an overcoat or any other garment, throw it across the
adjoining or front seat. Never mind any protests of frown or word. Should
not people be willing to accommodate? Of course they should. Prove it by
putting your dripping umbrella against the lady with the nice moire antique
silk. It may ruffle her temper; but that's her business, not yours; she
shouldn't be ridiculous because well dressed.

Fourth. Try and drop your opera-glass half a dozen times of an evening. If
it makes a great racket--as of course it will--and rolls a score of seats
off, hasten at once to obtain possession of the frisky instrument. Let
these little episodes be done at a crisis in the play where the finest
points are being evolved.