Mr. Clive returned to the Copley stage Wednesday night in Ian Hay's new play, "False Pretences", but there were no false pretences in the tumultuous applause that greeted the returned wanderer and also, as a matter of fact, the hitherto unproduced comedy.

Mr. Hay's new piece contained one part perfectly suited for Mr. Clive; and it was well for the Copley company that their leader rejoined them. As a farcical butler, as a tramp, as an idiotic young man, Mr. Clive has in other years drawn tears of laughter from his audience: but as the old man in "False Pretences", the sniffs and nose-blowings which he caused were of a different character. The pathetic old man was a sentimental character in a very sentimental play; but Mr. Clive did not quite overact, the rest of the company was not over-sentimental--Miss Standing had ample opportunity, but over-sentimentality is a rare thing with her--and the great American public likes sentiment, anyway.

The play itself was originally entitled "Make-Believe", but was changed when the author was reminded of A. A. Milne's play of the same name. Making believe was the sin of Adam Baxter. He had always longed for knowledge, had always hoped to learn to read: but he never had succeeded. His longing was so keen, however, and his innate love of books so great, that he brought quite a number of volumes, irrespective of their contents.

Adam Baxter possessed a very amazing memory. He could hear a passage read to him twice, and then forever after was able to recite it. With the aid of his unselfish though somewhat belligerent granddaughter, he conducts weekly "symposiums" for his town fellows: he teaches them much, inspires them, helps them--but he does not tell them he is illiterate, that his library is a fake. And so he is an imposter.

The play possesses on unusual feature. The man who in the first act is very distinctly a comic relief character, turns out to be most important before the end. In the part of Dr. Peck, Mr. Norman Cannon, of austere and hawk-like countenance, is well cast (except that he doesn't look like the football player he is supposed to be) and he grows more and more likable as the play goes on. But even there if we'd been the girl, we'd never have fallen in love with him, or filled his pipe for him, either.

The play is long and slow. The first act alone takes an hour and five minutes, and about a third of this time is ineffective introduction. Likewise in the last act there are several wide open spaces; but by that time they are not so noticeable.

If you have never memorized anything, Adam Baxter's remarkable reciting may make you squirm with a guilty feeling of having missed much. We felt that way for a while, but then he fell back on a hymn we've sung almost every time we've been to church, and all was well.