"Say, old man," chattered the press-agent, who had cornered a producer of motion-picture plays, "I've got a grand idea for a film-drama. Listen to the impromptu scenario: Scene one, exterior of a Broadway theater, with the ticket-speculators getting the coin in handfuls, and—"
"You're out!" interrupted the producer. "Why, don't you know that the law don't permit us to show an actual robbery on the screen?"—P.H. Carey.
"Why don't women have the same sense of humor that men possess?" asked Mr. Torkins.
"Perhaps," answered his wife gently, "it's because we don't attend the same theaters."
It appears that at the rehearsal of a play, a wonderful climax had been reached, which was to be heightened by the effective use of the usual thunder and lightning. The stage-carpenter was given the order. The words were spoken, and instantly a noise which resembled a succession of pistol-shots was heard off the wings.
"What on earth are you doing, man?" shouted the manager, rushing behind the scenes. "Do you call that thunder? It's not a bit like it."
"Awfully sorry, sir," responded the carpenter; "but the fact is, sir, I couldn't hear you because of the storm. That was real thunder, sir!"
Everybody has his own theater, in which he is manager, actor, prompter, playwright, sceneshifter, boxkeeper, doorkeeper, all in one, and audience into the bargain.—J.C. and A.W. Hare.