Cocoa butter gently applied on the corner of a soft dry towel will rapidly erase every mark, and is an excellent tonic for the skin.

Grease paints, rouge powder, cocoa butter, spirit gum, sponge-towel, puff, crêpe hair, hare’s foot, patches, tongs, hairpins, joining paste, brush and comb, lip salve, liquid blanc de perle, scissors, mirror, mustache, vanquisher, needles, cotton, soap, sponge, &c., can be purchased in compact make-up cases at prices from $15.00 down to $2.50.

Amateurs are sometimes prone to stiffness and artificiality of gesture and exaggeration of expression, also to too much or too little movement. A perfectly natural manner can only be gained by throwing oneself whole-heartedly into the play, and uniting oneself with the other dramatis personæ. Acting editions of both playlets mentioned above may be obtained of Messrs. Samuel French, of 28 West 38th St., New York.

Each actor has, as it were, his little orbit of movement, but this should not be circumscribed in a conventional, studied manner. Ease and self-control should cover all mastered technique in voice, attitude, and gesture. Words should be clearly delivered, and pronounced without any pedantic phrasing or forced utterance; and this will only be achieved by constant and careful rehearsing. The personality of each character must be distinct and individual.

When an amateur company is formed, each member should pay a fee in proportion to the strength of the casts and the drama they hope to produce. The stage-manager’s choice of characters should stand inviolable, providing, of course, he presents sufficient discretion and insight to distinguish between the different trends of talent possessed by his players.

In almost every company there are a few players who are inclined to fancy that they can do justice to a rôle given to some one else, rather than to the one they are studying. This is a form of very human discontent which Quince, the stage-manager of the players in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” had to battle against.

Flute bemoaned his fate, and excused himself from playing the woman’s part, on the plea, “I have a beard coming.”

Bottom was torn between a desire to undertake Thisby and the lion. “I will roar that I will make the duke say, ‘Let him roar again, let him roar again.’ ... I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove.”

As adamantine as the sagacious Quince against these eloquent appeals must be the modern stage-manager when the would-be tragedian importunes him to play the heavy rôle, or the individual who believes himself endowed with hidden genius, to portray the part of light comedian.

Thus only is success achieved.