An actor is producing a new play—try to learn something about the play, and any little incident of its production. One used to write of things that had been; but since all this Yankee journalism has come in, one has to anticipate things that _are_ to be. Weddings are described to-day before the marriage ceremony even takes place. [Illustration: MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE’S WRITING TABLE] It is a bad sign of the times, but that is modern journalism. A journalist’s is a hard and anxious life and often ill-paid; but here, at least, men and women can earn equal wages, and have equal chances. Nearly all the papers except _The Times_ now have women on their staff. Just as an actor adopts various disguises, so it is amusing to remember how many pseudonyms have been the different masks which have helped me, as other journalists, to attract the attention of the public. The public loves variety. It would never, never pay to appear always as the same old stager. Journalists must turn their hand to anything, at any time, and in any way. Sometimes I wrote as a man, sometimes as an old lady, comparing the past with the present. For instance, the “Elderly Scribe” became “A Girl at the Drawing-room,” under which heading a long article once appeared in a leading paper, describing my imaginary thrills as an American _débutante_ at the first Court of King Edward VII. I think it was in the _Pall Mall Gazette_: “Although I am an American, a Republican and all that sort of thing, I must own I dearly love a ceremony, adore a title, and was prepared for wild enthusiasm at a Court function. I crossed the Atlantic all in a quiver of excitement to know whether I should receive a card or not, because on that would depend our tearing off to Paris to get a Court dress. “Oh, the joy and excitement on opening a big envelope, without a stamp, with a purple die-mark in one corner, bearing the mysterious words, ‘Lord Chamberlain’s Office’! There was nothing grand whatever about the card, just a great, big, plain invitation: “‘The Lord Chamberlain is commanded by their Majesties to invite Miss American to a Court to be held at Buckingham Palace on Friday, June 6, 1902, at 10 o’clock p.m.’ “‘Full dress, ladies with feathers and trains.’ “Hugging the much-prized card to my heart, I skipped about the room practising that bow, or curtsey, or bob, or whatever they like to call it, that I had been rehearsing for weeks in my own mind, so as to be ready for the great event.