young woman were dressed in the fashion of a few years ago (than which none ever seems more absurd), being held on a bicycle by an obliging admirer, who is instructing her in the art of balance.
The next tableau perhaps discovers a typical old maid, a packet of letters yellowed with age, and a faded ribbon in her lap. One hand holds a letter, the other a daguerreotype, at which she gazes wistfully. This, to illustrate "Looking Backward," by Bellamy. A very young girl might be sitting on a stool at her feet, apparently listening, with intense interest, to the old maid's tale of her life's romance.
"Vice Versa," by Anstey, may be given by two or three persons, wearing hats, coats, and skirts "'hind-side before."
"Madame Butterfly," by John Luther Long, may be charmingly suggested by a lady in Japanese costume at her toilette, her maid adding pins or flowers to her coiffure. This series would lend itself easily to the most unpremeditated representation.
"THE SEVEN AGES OF WOMAN"
This series of tableaux has the advantage that it requires no "properties" but those that any household may supply, and has for its theme the interests and emotions common to all and that never fail to make appeal to sympathetic appreciation.
In the old cook-books, a standing witticism, handed down through the generations, was that in the preparation of Hare Soup—"You must first catch your hare." So, for the initial tableaux of "Infancy," we must borrow a baby, unless we are so fortunate as to own one of the required age and pattern. A doll might do, but at the expense of all the sympathy, the kindly feeling, that