LIKE most great movements in art, it had but a modest beginning. On a memorable day one of my brothers was looking in the window of a little toy-shop when he discovered some of those fascinating sheets of characters to which Stevenson has devoted a charming essay. He happened to have money in his pocket (it was indeed a memorable day), and he brought home his treasure-trove with the air of a capitalist who has made a wise investment. Schoolroom society approved his enterprise with enthusiasm. We knew nothing about “The Woodman’s Hut,” the play to which the characters in question belonged; it was enough for us that these figures of men and women were clearly messengers from the Land of Romance, and their mysterious attitudes only added to the interest with which we regarded them. We got out our paint-boxes, and, as unconsciously we were all Post-Impressionists, we soon made them more mysterious still. It will be remembered that Stevenson remained satisfied with this, which might be regarded as the costumier’s work of the model theatre, but we were more ambitious. Our first theatre was a small packing-case without any sides, and in this our characters, mounted on cardboard and supplied with firewood supports, were quite contented to display their red legs and green bodies. Our scenery was indicated rather than drawn on brown paper with coloured chalks, and would, I think, have pleased Mr. Gordon Craig. Two Christmas-tree candles served for footlights, and, though we had no book of the words, we made them up as we went along, and did very well. It was strange how great a measure of illusion we achieved, although we ourselves moved the puppets and spoke their lines. The candles threw queer shadows across our faces, and it seemed as though deeper voices than ours echoed in the room. We were always being astonished by the eerie products of our own imagination when we were merely trying to amuse ourselves; and the effect of our dramatic efforts was quite remote from anything that we had intended. I understand that older dramatists sometimes experience the same phenomenon.