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The "movies" are responsible for a lot of things, and among the developments is the "Moving Picture audience." Perhaps the audiences do not realize that they are classified just as minutely as they classify the acts which they pay their money to see. But they are divided into several distinct types, according to those in the business of entertain- ing the public. Most Moving Picture houses run from four to six hours a day, and, of course, each locality has its special kind of show and audience. The following classification was made by the stage-man of one of the first-class picture houses in a big Eastern city. This house runs a con- tinuous show from 10:30 a. m. to 10:30 p. m., with several good acts between pictures. "How's the house today?" I asked the stage-man, as he dropped the "sheet" on a musical act. "Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair," he replied. "Say, but you ought to have seen the audience last night. They was a pippin—everything went over, and say, my arms are still sore from working the curtain overtime." "Do audiences differ much during the day?" I asked. "Do they?" he responded in scorn. "Well, I should say. There's the 'milk-wagon' audience " "Milk-wagon!" I exclaimed. "Yep; bums who come in to get a comfy seat and a nap; tourists wait- ing for an afternoon train, and a few who come in to really see the show. That's the kind you get in the morn- ing. Then there's the 'business snatch' around noon. Them's the 79 business men and women who want to use up their noon hour and get their minds off their work. They 're a nice, appreciative audience; but they keep coming and going, 'cause they cant any of them stay long. Then you get the 'matinee' bunch, along about three o'clock—ladies and kids, who have nothin' else to do but amuse themselves, and some shoppers and schoolgirls. Dont get much of a hand from them, tho they like the show all right." "Why is that?" I asked. "Well, you see it's this way: A lady comes in, and the first thing she does is to fill her lap up with her bag and bundles, then she fusses with her veil and hat, and puts those on her lap, too. There she sits, a-grabbing those things in her lap, and if she takes her hands off to clap, down slides the whole caboodle to the floor." "That's so," I said; "I've not clapped many times, myself, because I couldn't." "Then comes the 'five o'clock tea' crowd. They're the hungry, the homeless, and those tired out, with no- where else to go. They sit back and dream of a nice juicy beefsteak until the real 'cream' audience comes for the evening shows. That audience is well fed, and comes out with the ex- press purpose of seeing and enjoying a show, and will give a good hand when it likes a thing." "I see," I said; "so the different audiences are: the 'milk T wagon,' the 'business snatch,' the 'matinee,' the 'five o'clock tea' and the 'cream'— am I right?" "You're all there," he laughed. "That's them, and dont forget it!"