Although the scene of "At the Red Glove" is laid in Berne, it is a typical French story of French people with French ideas and characteristics, and it is French as well in the symmetry of its arrangements and effects and its admirable technique. In point of fact, Berne is a city where a German dialect is spoken, but among the lively groups of _bourgeois_ who carry on this effective little drama a prettier and politer language is in vogue. Madame Carouge, whose personality is the pivot upon which the story revolves, is a native of southern France, and is the proprietor of the Hôtel Beauregard. Her husband, who married her as a mere child and carried her away from a life of poverty and neglect, has died before the opening of the story and bequeathed all his property to his young and handsome wife. "Ah, but I do not owe him much," the beautiful woman said: "he has wasted my youth. I am eight-and-twenty, and I have not yet begun to live." Thus Madame Carouge as a widow sets out to realize the dreams she has dreamed in the dull apathetic days of her long bondage. Although she is bent on love and happiness, she is yet sensible and discreet, and manages the Hôtel Beauregard with skill and tact, while secluding herself from common eyes. Destiny, however, as if eager at last to work in her favor, throws in her way a handsome young Swiss, Rudolf Engemann by name, a bank-clerk, with whom she falls deeply in love. Everything is progressing to Madame's content, when a little convent-girl, Marie Peyrolles, comes to Berne to live with her old aunt, a glove-seller, whose sign in the Spitalgasse gives the name to the story. It would be a difficult matter to find a prettier piece of comedy than that which ensues upon Marie's advent. It is all simple, spontaneous, and, on the part of the actors, entirely serious, yet the effect is delightfully humorous. Berne, with its quaint arcaded streets, its Alpine views, and its suburban resorts, makes a capital background, and gives the group free play to meet with all sorts of picturesque opportunities. The story is told without any straining after climaxes, but with many felicitous touches that enhance the effect of every picture and incident. In scene, characters, and plot, "At the Red Glove" offers a brilliant opportunity to the dramatist, and one is tempted to think that the story must have been originally conceived and planned with reference to the stage. "Upon a Cast" is also a very amusing little story, and turns on the experiences of a couple of ladies who, with a longing for a quiet life, The world forgetting, by the world forgot,