One incident in regard to the place of its production I shall never forget. During the past twenty-five years it has been my good fortune to see plays and programs presented in village halls, schoolhouses, churches, homes, country stores, gymnasiums, auditoriums, theaters, hotels, barns, parks, groves, streets, and other places. But I have never had the good fortune to see a baseball diamond used for a theater, and on the Fourth of July, with a play like “David Harum.” It all happened down at Lisbon. The second baseball game had just finished. It was about six-thirty in the evening. A frame of two-by-four scantling was erected and braced like a city billboard. The center of the frame was exactly nine feet from the home plate. On it fourteen foot green draperies were hung. A large soiled canvas was laid on the worn ground for the stage. Three electric bulbs with a few batteries and two good sized automobiles furnished all the light necessary for the production. The baseball pits, where the players stay before they are called upon to bat, were used as dressing rooms. The crowd began to assemble at half past seven, and at eight o’clock the bleachers were brimful. The overflow crowd was seated on planks close up to the stage. For two solid hours and on the Fourth of July, mind you, several hundred people sat, watched, and listened to David Harum. Not a soul left. The interest manifested by the audience was tense at all times. It was one of the most unique instances ever experienced by the writer. [Illustration: SCENE—Sitting Bull-Custer. _By Aaron McGaffey Beede_]