We came, we stood, (you'll have to wait weeks to get seats), and it conquered. It doesn't happen very often--"Life with Father" is the closest to it we've seen since we got the play-going habit--but when it does it's downright faith-renewing. What we're trying to stop laughing long enough to tell you is that That Play with the two nice little murderous ladies in it has finally found its way to Boston and if you haven't got a strong heart all the dying won't be done of the stage.

This is not because "Arsenic and Old Lace" is a chiller-thriller where women scream faint; the wear and tear on one's constitution all occurs around you, laughing apparatus, and if you faint it's because you can't take the belly-agitation. Wliat Joseph Kesserling has written from a God-sent (or Perhaps Ghoul-sent) inspiration and how a perfect cast put it across are things we can't tell you and you'll just have to see it yourself. All we know is that a couple of half-cracked but very nice old maids serve a new drink (two jiggers of elderberry wine--"we made it ourselves," a teaspoon of arsenic, half-teaspoon of cyanide and just a pinch of strychnine is the recipe) with a kick that's decimating, and people roar at wholesale murder. If all murders were as funny as these, the human race would assassinate itself off the earth and the last man would die laughing.