Should an actor be fortunate in having sons of his own, he early apprentices them to the stage. He is a protecting spirit, watching their efforts, disciplining, encouraging. His sons are to inherit his mantle, and therefore he gives abundantly of his experience, seeing that they are given the proper advantages, for although young they are the heirs of to-morrow, and Kabuki is careful of the type. When an actor has no son, he adopts a successor from among his pupils. He takes a number of youths who wish to study his stage methods, which they learn by constant association with him on and off the stage. As they progress in their work they are advanced, and carry on his traditions when he has passed away. It is the custom for children of seven, or even younger, to be placed in the care of a leading actor, since Kabuki plays have many child-rôles. A few trials in juvenile characters with which the audience are thoroughly familiar, and it is easy to predict whether the youthful player has a future or not. The cleverest boy-actor on the Tokyo stage to-day is Nakamura Matagoro, who holds his audience in a surprising manner, his voice, bearing, and face all marking him as a future star. The son of an actor who possessed much talent but never rose to the top, Matagoro, on his father’s death, was taken under the wing of Nakamura Kichiyemon, a young actor of acknowledged ability, whose patronage assures the lad’s career. Thus the youthful actor begins to associate with his elders in a natural way, and has no opportunity to gain the idea that he is a prodigy. He gazes up into the faces of men who have been acting for half a century, and old age looks benignly down as the small tot speaks his first lines. Even mediocre talent can grow and expand in an atmosphere of calm confidence. The child is not forced or abused, but grows up in a Montessori fashion. When the youth reaches a state of self-consciousness and its attendant awkwardness, this is taken as a matter of course. The audience tolerate his gaucheries, knowing that he will one day bloom as a full-grown actor. Had the training and discipline of the actors been otherwise, Kabuki might have experienced a different fate. This is but the education of Old Japan, the apprentice to the arts and crafts growing up from childhood with a master, profiting by his experience, encouraged by his guidance and protection. In contrast there are the doubtful benefits of modern education that does not prevent the tragic waste of the finer forces of human nature; art impulses and aspirations of the souls of the young, thwarted and hampered, untrained, unregarded, until the neglect of their true development makes the world for them a desert rather than a paradise. [Illustration: Nakamura Matagoro, the leading boy-actor of the Tokyo Stage, in the rôle of a girl-pilgrim, O-Tsuru.]