lard's brief season in town was marked by his clever assumption of the character of Benjamin Goldfinch, in the excellent comedy of "A Pair of Spectacles" (a part inseparably associated with that great comedian John Hare), and by his powerful, tragical presentment of Austin Limmasson, in "The Man Who Was"-a theatrical epitome of a sketch by Rudyard Kipling. The embodiment of Limmasson was a pathetic display of the gradual return of reason to a man who has been half demented by cruel treatment, terrible hardship, and protracted mental and physical anguish. Mr. Willard closed his American tour on May 26, 1906, and sailed for England; but it is announced that he will soon revisit America.

A mischievous play entitled "The Clansman," by Rev. Thomas Dixon, Jr., brought out at the Liberty Theater in January, attracted passing attention, because of its obvious tendency, if not its positive purpose, to stimulate race hatred between the whites and negroes. The author stated that he had "studied dramatic technique for two years" before writing the play; but his piece gave no evidence that he had profited by his study. The only dramatic passage in "The Clansman" was found to be a plagiarism, because a garbled form of the incident of the confession that is extorted, by a mesmerist, from Mathias, is in the "The Bells"-that excellent drama, made from a French original, and much improved by Leopold Lewis, for the late Henry Irving.

Mr. Henri DeVries, an actor of Dutch origin, appeared at the Madison Square Theater, in January, and in a single scene, called "A Case of Arson," impersonated seven different characters, making the critical changes very rapidly, and deftly contriving, by many subtle touches of facial expression and of demeanor, to make each person distinct. His acting did not reveal imagination, but he was surprisingly expert, and he especially exemplified the advantage of a thorough knowledg of the art of "make-up"-an art that most actors neglect.

A sparkling actress of comedy was disclosed in the person of Miss Ellis Jeffreys, who appeared, January 22, at Daly's Theater, in a bright play, by Mr. Alfred Sutro, called "The Fascinating Mr. Vanderveldt." A domestic story, the every-day

incidents of which crystallize around the character of a self-sacrificing, high-spirited young girl, told in a cleanly piece called "The Little Gray Lady," by Mr. Channing Pollock, met with acceptance, at the Garrick Theater, and has since been sent to the country. A pretentious but carnal and morbid play, called "The Duel," was brought out, February 12, at the Hudson Theater being Mr. L. N. Parker's translation of the French original, Henri Lavedan. The topic of it is a conflict between two brothers, long alienated-one of them an agnostic doctor, skilled in nervous diseases, the other a philanthropic priest, devoted to the service of children and the poor. The conflict relates to a married woman, unhappy in her marriage-her husband being a nervous wreck and a slave to morphine-who loves the doctor, and, at the same time, is attracted by the clergyman. In the end the lady's husband conveniently tumbles out of a window and breaks his neck; the lady falls to the skeptical doctor; and the priest conveys his lacerated bosom to a leper settlement in Asia. In the acting much stress was laid on a strong scene between the brothers, in which the doctor contends for the heroine's body, and the priest for her soul: in that scene there is a touch of open blesphemy. Altogether, nothing could well be more unhealthful or in worse taste than this "drama of argument," as it was called yet it was much followed. Otis Skinner, long popular and admired, acted the young clergyman; Mr. Guy Standing the doctor-giving an exceptionally fine performance; and Miss Fay Davis the lady (Duchess de Chailles). Mr. Eben Plympton appeared, as an aged prelate, who had been tortured by unappreciative savages, but had survived to inculcate charity and talk common-sensewhich he did, exceedingly well.

Mr.

A queer play, called "The Redskin," reminiscent of several old dramas, and devoted to the recital of an Indian story, with variations of the typical French tale of matrimonial incontinence, made its appearance in the spring, and was received with amused toleration and some little newspaper chaff, which incensed its manager, Mr. W. A. Brady, and caused him to make various choleric and silly speeches. vilifying the press; but that commotion soon subsided. soon subsided. Mr. Benjamin Chapin, an

enthusiast of President Lincoln-to the authentic portrait of whom he bears a certain resemblance, appeared, March 26, at the Liberty Theatre, in a domestic sketch, called "Lincoln," made by himself, and aptly imitated personal peculiarities of that illustrious original. Later in the season Mr. Crane came to the Hudson Theatre, in a play called "An American Lord," in which he depicted, with humorous effect, the comic perplexity of a fanatical American citizen, afflicted with positive "Anglo-phobia", who suddenly finds himself, by inheritance, an English peer of the realm, and lord of a vast estate in England. The plan is, obviously, extravagant, but the play abounds with comic incident, and Mr. Crane cleverly embodied an eccentric character that was equally lovable and amusing. Later in the season also Miss Florence Roberts appeared in the capital, presenting a formless play, called "The Strength of the Weak," designed to reiterate the old complaint that, in all cases of sexual wrong-doing, society unjustly exonerates the man and condemns the woman. Strangely enough, some persons seem to suppose that this subject is a suitable one for discussion in the theatre, and that such discussion will have a salutary effect. It has been going on for more than half-a-century, without making the slightest difference in the actual experience of the world. Many little happenings might be named; but they would mostly tend to indicate the zeal of feverish shop-keeping experiment-ever seeking something new. The most important and brilliant event of the year was the re-entrance of Richard Mansfield, who appeared, March 19, at the New Amsterdam Theatre, as Don Carlos, in Schiller's tragedy of that name, and who acted there till April 14, presenting, in splendid style, and with astonishing variety and vigor of intellect and feeling, nine successive dramas of his remarkable repertory-the most opulent now in practical use upon our stage.

In this exposition of the activities of the dramatic season of 1905-1906 in New York it will be observed that, amid a whirl of indiscriminate and fruitless endeavor, and notwithstanding unscrupulous attempts to obtrude the salacious, the degenerate, and the crank drama (mean

ing Shaw, Ibsen, Maeterlinck, Suderman, &c.), the trend has been to an encouraging extent, toward the right achievement,

good plays well acted. Among the survivals are "The Girl of the Golden West," "Peter Pan," "The Squaw Man," and "The Lion and the Mouse." The only new performer of auspicous note who has become known here is Miss Ellis Jeffreys. The names that have been and that remain conspicuous are Richard Mansfield, E. S. Willard, David Warfield, William H. Crane, Frank Worthing, N. C. Goodwin, E. H. Sothern, Robert Mantell, Julia Marlowe, Blanche Bates, Viola Allen, Mrs. Fiske, Mrs. Carter, Maud Adams and Margaret Anglin. In the strife between the syndicate and independent managers, the latter class has gained the entire artistic advantage. The Syndicate managers have made prodigious pretensions, but they have, in fact, produced next to nothing. The initiative has been taken by the independents-Mr. Belasco, Mr. Fiske and the Shubert Brothers. Richard Mansfield, as usual, has directed. his own business affairs, using the Syndicate managers as agents. So has Mr. Willard. Those Syndicate managers hold the position, actually, of booking-agents and janitors; but, as they control many theatres all over the country, they possess financial dominance. That dominance could be broken by a league of leading actors; and, of course, it ought to be broken, because it is a monopoly, and, being a monopoly, it works injustice. The hope of our stage is in "the good time coming," when the management of theatres will be exclusively with the actor. In every splendid period of the stage an actor has been at the top-Shakespeare, Burbage, Betterton, Garrick, Kemble, Macready, Kean, Wood, Warren, Wallack, Booth, Irving-or, if not an actor, a man with the actor's temperament and the actor's love for the dramatic art. Until that time comes again our stage will continue to be perverted and disgraced by mercenary tradesmen, who are in "the business" for pecuniary profit, and who are utterly incapable of understanding that a theatrical manager holds an intellectual position and owes an intellectual, moral and spiritual obligation to the time. in which he lives.

EVERAL years ago I

heard an earnest advocate of irrigation say that, if he had the power, he would ordain that rain and snow should fall on the mountains and uncultivated lands in sufficient quantities to keep the irrigating ditches full, while not one drop of moisture should be allowed to fall upon orchard, vineyard or farm.

At that time I knew nothing of irrigation and its marvelous results, and I wondered at the apparently impious remark of the man who would interfere with the Divine laws and deprive us of the "gentle rain from heaven." But as my attention was more and more directed to what irrigation has done, and as I realized more. and more what it can do; as I saw how it has turned bleak deserts into gardens and

made habitable waste places; as I saw how one farmer, depending upon the fitful favors of the rain-cloud, had too little moisture for his crops, while his neighbor had too much; when I saw the irrigator go calmly on, in spite of rainless months, gathering the fruitage of his trees and vines; when I read of crop failures and resulting famines; when I saw the waters of the rivers and streams running uselessly by parched farms whose sickly crops were crying aloud for the moisture which the capricious rains had refused to give them; when I saw one man's orchard green-leaved and laden with fruit, and another's struggling to maintain its life, and realized that all the difference between the two was that one had the irrigating ditch at its command, while the other depended on the rainwhen I saw and realized these things, I understood why the irrigationist would, if he could, have no rain fall upon the

cultivated acres, but would water them from the irrigating ditch.

A great portion of the lands west of the Rocky Mountains may well be called "arid and semi-arid." Upon these lands the rainfall is both small in quantity and uncertain in its coming. Yet the soil is fertile, almost beyond belief, and when these arid acres are wedded to the waters of irrigation their former forbidding bareness is changed, almost as if by magic, to the lush greenness of the land where rains are frequent and abundant. The famed oases of the Sahara, the subjects of song, story and legend, brilliant emeralds in the forbidding harshness of the shifting sands, are no more welcome to the tired eye of the dejected traveller than are the irrigation-oases of the so-called deserts of the West.

The lands of the Eastern states, because of exhaustion of fertility and increase of population, no longer can accommodate a sufficient rural population to prevent the too rapid increase in size

and power of the great cities. History, modern and ancient, tells us that when the cities become the actual rulers of the country, the decadence of national strength is sure to follow. Already in England the note of alarm has been sounded. The sturdy, loyal, healthy yeomanry, which once was England's pride and made her feared of all the world, is disappearing into the hungry maw of London and the great cities. The Boer War demonstrated that England's hope in future must be, not in the weak and sickly children of her great cities, but in the strong and vigorous men of her great colonies.

In the United States the cities are increasing in population much more rapidly than is the country. The proportion of country boys who stay upon the land is ever growing smaller; while, lured by the attractions of the cities, the stream of men and women flowing thither is growing ever larger.

Time was, especially in the West, when

he who owned less than a quarter section of land was looked upon as owning hardly enough to keep body and soul together. The sons and daughters of the farmer, appalled by the hard work, the dreary monotony of the country life, the isolation of those who dwell so far apart as large farms and ranches compelled them tothe farmers' sons and daughters, hungering for companionship and the creature comforts made possible only in communities, too often desert the country and take refuge in the cities.

But, with irrigation, ten, twenty, thirty acres, well tilled and intensively cultivated, can support a family in comfort and in plenty. Such farms enable the young people to visit easily back and forth, enable them to have close associations with each other, and rob the country of the dreary solitude, which, especially to the young, is irksome and distressing. A thousand acres (not excessive for a single owner in our newest states) gives but a single family that landed holding which makes them true partners in the country's weal or woe. A thousand irrigated acres can support fifty families in almost urban contact with each other. The boys and girls can have associations with their fellows, and thus the attractions of the crowded city streets lose half their charm for those who yearn for company.

California has within her borders one hundred million acres. One great valley, the San Joaquin and Sacramento, embraces, with the tributary foothills, ten million fertile acres. Irrigated, these ten

million acres, capable of producing all the fruits and crops of the semi-tropical and temperate zones, can easily support, on small farms, in villages, towns and cities, five million people. Yet this great stretch of country is but one-tenth of California's whole extent, which now has only two million people.

In Southern California the irrigating ditch has made land that thirty years ago was only valuable as precarious sheep pasture, now worth two and three thousand dollars an acre as orange orchards. The land is still the same; only the added water gives it greater value. All the miraculous growth of Southern California is directly traceable to irrigation.

Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Utah, Nevada, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Wyoming, Texas, all together have but a few million people. Yet if their fertile acres were made tributary to the irrigation ditch, two hundred million people could there find homes with all the comforts the word "home" ought to mean.

It seems to me that irrigation is now one of the greatest and most necessary problems this country has to solve. Without it the cities must become too great. With it the country can preserve that bal- ́ ance of power which is, I think, so necessary for the nation's perpetuity.

A multitude of little farms, well-tilled, instead of a few wealthy, powerful cities and a depopulated country, are, I take it, of greatest importance for this country's future greatness.