Time-06 Commencement, earthquaked from May to September 14, 1905.

Scene-The home of "The Original Miss Tewksberry."

Synopsis-Herein, thanks to the cleverness of one Stella F. Wynne, we see Barney Bernard pretend to be the French poet, who is really Runt May; whereupon the latter is mistaken for the expected French waiter who he is not. In this deception the towering figure of Dudley Sales poses incongruously as that of the supposed poet's secretary. Very soon three ladies further complicate matters-first, Mercile Winslow as Alicia Tewksberry, who collects human and superhuman oddities for her salon, and is shocked to find herself falling in love with-not the celebrity (nor the waiter), but the private secretary of the celebrity. Her Cousin Philippa, who much resembles Susan Carpenter, is likewise amazed to discover that the pretended poet can court other dames as well as the lyric muse. Elizabeth Officer assumes a lorgnette and a psychic talent for seeing everything in colors, and, as Mrs. Harman,

chaperones Alicia's extraordinary party. We are amused from beginning to end of this act, and decide that, for the purposes of a farce, there may be other settings more effective than the dear old Quad, and that an ingenious plot and a sprightly dialogue are better than a lavish use of local color, even though that color be Stanford Red.

ACT II.

Time-Quite a while ago-probably even Shakespeare looked over his shoulder at "The Two Gentlemen of Verona."

Scene-Verona and Milan, but especially the moonlit garden of the Duke's palace.

Synopsis-Herein we have, for the first time on the Stanford stage, a love scene which does not strike the college as humorous. We see

Stanford

Quad 1908

Jimmy Ray as passionate Proteus-passionate as he is fickle; Nora Dunn as Lady Silvia, "a virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful"; Dudley Sales as honest Valentine, a gentleman who credits Proteus with all the honor which he himself possesses. We are filled with mirth unspeakable by Speed and Launce, for in Roy Kellogg and Runt May there dwells the very spirit of comedy. And here it is that Aurania Ellerbeck plays Julia with a charm and pathos that we shall not soon forget. It is in this act that the little page's soul is torn by discovering the falseness of Proteus, whom she loves. It is here that she expresses all her suffering without a word, and lets the voices of the strings and of the serenaders speak for her. And so do they speak even now, if one but hears the first few inquiring notes of "Who is Silvia?"

It is not, perhaps, merely because we are friends of Sword and Sandals, that most of us like best this second act of our play; but there is a magic about the old comedy, a beauty in the lines, a distinction about the whole performance, all of which will set it apart from the