The sun., 1909-02-07

Of printers ink; they like to see the crea-
type
Mr.. Frohman smiles with the eye OF
vision as he admits that every man
Graves a certain epitaph." and tells OF
those Barrie and he wrote for themselves
one day last summer when the two were
ca on little excursion in Sussex.
'We were near a wonderful little Gothic
chapel after hard tramp over the country.
and Barrie. sitting down on a mound to
rest, said with his funny little Scotch
accent: Here let me rest with the stone
above me saying Here lies the man who
wrote What Every Woman Knows" to
which Of course answered. suiting the
action to the word. And here lies the man
who produced it.
Somebody epitomized this newest play
Of Barrie's by adding few words to it's
title, What Every sWoman Knows-Is
better than what any man knows" Mr..
Frohman shows the manuscripts Of the
play pointing out what seems TO him the
absolute perfection Of playwriting.
1T is very closely written and not a line
Of it has been discarded in all the re-
hearsing it has gone through in England
and America. 1t is. says he. four acts
Of Philosophers wit and a wits phi
losophy. What every woman knows is
that when she trusts TO her INSTINCTS and
shuns reason and logic she is apt to be
right. Barrie knows this too, for at the
Duke Of York's Theatre one day. when
the comedy was in the first stages Of its
rehearsals and the auditorium empty
save for the presence Of himself and
myself. suddenly the outer door opened
and in few Mrs. Barrie with characteristic
rapidity Of speech and action. SThere
we're few moments conversation between
husband and wife. during which | moved
away so as not 70 overhear. The talk
over, Mrs. Barrie gathered her trap
pings together and vanished as suddenly
as she had appeared. Then Barrie
reJoined me. saying. You know the
hpmlliatihg thing about women is that
they are generally right
Describe him? Well, that is not easy,
but imagine il you can a quaint little
figure in a seedy brown coat more ven
Grated for its age than for its cut. large
''hi SDNtTtu ny al ROlI
layers cap, a shambling gait, tightly
held pipe sending forth great clouds of
smoke, pair Of deep, thoughtful eyes
that looked through one rather than at
"h", countenance locked in the inmov-
a'Ieness Of mysterious silence or suddenly
r"iaNed into mischievous smile with
queer chuckles as he tells, for example,
oi tho old Scotch woman of Kirrierpuir
"np would say: Jamie, you're an idler,
F"lI nae come TO any good'-these are
r"rhaps the first traits one would notice
'n seeing j. VI. Barrie for the first time.
ne l. little man. wise, whimsical and
'iiF. His conversation ;s kind Of
""t' al and pastoral excursion rs far
removed from the everyday noisy world
A. ever poets fancy was. He il as SIM
~ a shepherd boy and as shy as I
ing girl just home from boarding
school. /
10 say this brings up the real story Of
n'F7"'s first try at authorship. He did |
ut ilnd fame, as Byron did. in night.
u "HS a slow growth. 1t began in garret.
ms Imagination had besn captured by a
"'.' wet"rcress seller which was running
'' religious paper. For months the
."'eIcT,ss 5eller filled Dairie's dreams. !
'A'" me month the paper failed 10 come
, u and there was a disappointed boy in
N"r'emulr. who went 10 bed and dreamed /