There are not many plays in which two characters merely converse for so long a period without well-motivated reasons, but it is well to take an extreme example. Let us assume that D is telling E the story of her life, and that for two minutes her speech contains little more than straight narrative. Suddenly she tells a sad incident, and E, who has a sympathetic nature, wipes her eyes with her handkerchief. D continues, and E, no longer able to restrain her tears but not wishing to show her emotion to D, rises and goes to the left of the stage for a moment or two. The long conversation scene is now broken up by a natural bit of action. While in life such a conversation might consume hours, on the stage it must be made more attractive and emotionally stimulating; in the theater, the appeal is through the eye and ear, to the emotions.

Such a scene as the one just outlined must be repeatedly rehearsed, until every detail of the "business" is worked out perfectly.

After approximately ten days' work on the first act—during which period each of the other acts should be run through at least three times—the actors should be letter perfect and able to give a fairly smooth performance.

Then the other acts are rehearsed in like manner. Each act, after it is finished in this way, must be rehearsed at least every three or four days. When all the acts have been worked out, then each rehearsal is devoted to going through the whole play. Minor points in acting, minor "business", rendering of the lines, voice, gesture, etc., must naturally be insisted upon. Special cases must be dealt with outside the regular rehearsals, for the play should be interrupted as seldom as possible, because it is wise to let the actors become accustomed to going through the entire piece. It will be found expeditious, too, for small groups of characters who have scenes together to rehearse by themselves. The full rehearsals of the play are valuable both to actors and the director, for the latter is given a general view of his stage pictures which could in no other way be afforded him, and he is in a position to judge of his general and massed effects. At the same time the actors will more readily enter into the spirit of the work if they are permitted to play without interruption. Where the actors forget their lines, they should be prompted without other delay, but if they do anything actually wrong, or if the director wishes to make an important change, the performance must, of course, be stopped for a moment.

The number of rehearsals necessary for the production of a play by amateurs depends largely on the attitude of the amateurs themselves, and the amount of time at their disposal. It is safe to say that ninety-nine out of a hundred such performances suffer noticeably from need of rehearsing. Nor is this to be wondered at, for the average professional play usually requires four or five weeks' rehearsing—seven to eight hours daily—for six and sometimes seven days in the week! Of course, an amateur is an amateur because he is not a professional, and he cannot afford very much time for work which is after all only a pastime. One other point should be well borne in mind: the average amateur has not the patience of the professional. If he is rehearsed too long or too steadily, he will grow "stale", and lose interest in his work.

Still, no full-length play can safely be produced with less than four weeks' work, on an average of five rehearsals of three hours each, per week. (This does not include special and individual outside rehearsals.) Four weeks is the shortest time that can be allowed, while six or seven should be devoted to it. So much time is not necessary in order that the company may attempt to become professionals; that would be impossible and not at all advisable. The amateur, if rightly trained, should be able to impart a certain natural, naÏve, unprofessional tone to the part he is impersonating, but this can only be done by constant rehearsing. The director usually finds that the amateur's first instinct is to imitate the tricks of the professional actor, and not allow himself to feel the character of the rÔle. The professional quickly assimilates mannerisms which are only too likely to become mechanical, but which the amateur, because he is an amateur, is not likely to learn, if at first he is trained to avoid them.

There is no particular excuse for presenting plays which can be seen acted anywhere and any time by professionals; amateurs should strive to produce classics, or modern plays which for one reason or another are not often seen, and impart to them that peculiar flavor which charms as well as interests and attracts. Nor is there much use in the amateur actor's striving to become professional in manner: he cannot hope, in the short time he can spare for his work, to become a good professional; or, if he gives signs of becoming such, then he no longer belongs in amateur dramatics. Allow the amateur plenty of leeway in the matter of interpretation, if he has any original ideas of his own; but of course these must never be at variance with the general idea of the play. Let him work out his own salvation: here lies the value of amateur production, both to the actor and to the audience.

Often amateurs are called upon to portray feelings, actions, passions, of which they have no knowledge or experience. Love scenes, for instance, are invariably difficult. In this case, the actors must be taught a few conventional gestures, attitudes, and tricks, but they should not be permitted—except in rare cases—to lay much stress on the acting. This also applies to such purely conventional matters as kissing, dying, fighting, etc., for which a set of recognized technical tricks has been evolved. Any competent director can train actors to do this.

One more point before this part of rehearsing is dispensed with: amateur productions suffer largely from a lack of continuous tension and variety. Often the action is slow, jerky, and consequently tedious. Constant rehearsing, with a view to inspiring greater confidence and sureness in the actors, under a good director, is the best means to overcome these great drawbacks. The last eight or ten rehearsals, after the cast are familiar with their lines and "business", are the most important in the matter of tempo. Details of shading, well-developed and modulated action, and a well-defined climax, are what must be worked for. When the actors are no longer thinking of when they must cross or sit down or rise, they are ready to enter whole-heartedly into the spirit of the play as an artistic unit.

As an example, on a small scale, of how a scene may be modulated and shaded, two pages from Meilhac and HalÉvy's "Indian Summer" (published by Samuel French) are here reprinted with marginal notes explaining how these effects are obtained.

"Sister Beatrice" of Maeterlinck, produced at the Western Reserve College for Women.

The simple hangings produce a good cyclorama effect. (Courtesy of Miss Ida Treat).