All persons vainly enamoured should migrate to Scotland with the object of their affections, given themselves out as married to him, and write him a note signed "Your loving wife." That is all that is necessary: the Law of Scotland does the rest; it will convict you of the intent to marry and sentence you forth-with to conjugal bliss. At least, that was where the "Indiscretion of Truth" came in. Truth was a maiden fair to see. She rashly wrote to one man that she would meet him at an inn and be his bride. He sent her an answer that he could not be there, and chose a trusted friend for his courier, and the friend had to make believe he was Truth's husband in order to quiet his suspicions of the innkeeper. Whereupon Scottish Law declared Truth married to both men. But Truth really loved a third party, whose identity it would be a shame to divulge before you actually get to the fourth act, for the plot is the only interesting thing about the play. The actors, with the exception of Mr. Kemble, certainly do not make the characters vivid.

Robert Edeson has the sort of "thuggish" role to which he is best suited. In the first act he tries to punch the other man's jaw; in the second he gets drunk; and in the third he goes mad. Where-upon the Spearmint-chewing lady who sits behind you murmurs, "He's just too cute for anything." Mr. Kemble is down on the program as "supporting" Mr. Edeson, but to him must go the honors of the evening. He played the part of Truth's guardian, defended her with more than fatherly zeal through all her matrimonial indiscretions, and in the end--but the end must not be told. Suffice it that the Spearmint-chewing lady exclaimed ecstatically to her friend: "Oh, Lizzie, ain't it grand!"