Sir,—­I have not seen Pamela’s Prodigy, but I have just read the criticism in the Times, which says of it, “It must be regarded either as a boyish effusion or a sorry joke.”  The criticism then points out how it lacks “wit, humour, literary skill,” and apparently is wanting in everything that goes to make a successful play,—­everything that is, except the actors.  Mrs. JOHN WOOD was in it:  she is a host in herself:  not only a host, but the Manageress of the theatre who, with her partner in the business, is responsible for the selection of pieces.  Now granting the critic to be right—­and, on referring to others, I find a consensus of opinion backing him up—­at whose door lies the responsibility of having deliberately selected a failure?  Under what compulsion could so clever and experienced an autocrat, sharp as a needle and with the “heye of an ’awk” in theatrical matters, as Mrs. JOHN WOOD, have made so fatal a mistake—­that is, if the critics are right, and if it be a mistake? “To err, is human”—­and, including even Mrs. JOHN WOOD, and the critics, we are all human,—­“To forgive, divine”—­the critics not being divine could not forgive; the public apparently, did forgive—­and, will, of course, forget.  ’Tis all very well to fall foul of the unhappy author—­whom we will not name—­after the event; but why was the piece ever chosen, and why was not the discovery of its unfitness made during rehearsal?  No! “as long as the world goes round” these things will happen in the best regulated theatres, and experience is apparently no sort of guide in such matters.—­Yours faithfully,

“NOT THERE, NOT THERE, MY CHILD!”

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