very best, reproduced as often as it may be wanted, the perfected kinetoscope exhibiting the spectacle of the stage, the talking machine and the phonograph (doubtless differentiated) rendering perfectly the voices of the actors and the music of the orchestra. There will be no need for the employment of inferior actors in the small parts. As the production of any play will only demand that it be worked up to the point of perfection and then performed once, there will be no difficulty in securing the most perfect rendering that it is capable of. The actor's art will be immensely elevated, not only by his relief from the drudgery of repeated performance and by the leisure thus afforded him for study and reflection, but also by the removal of what is keenly felt by all players of sensibility and ambition as one of the greatest drawbacks of the stage. We are accustomed to the actor's complaint that whereas the author, the sculptor, the painter, the composer of music, makes for himself a fame imperishable as the products of his art, the actor frets his hour and disappears from the stage, to be promptly forgotten by an ungrateful public. Well, the actor's art, like the art of the executant musician, will have the endowment of permanency. And there will be a magnificent opportunity for the actor as artist, in that he will be able to compare himself and his fellows with the actors who are dead and can act no
