no particular reason that I know of, the Navy and merchant shipping always have been largely represented in the club in my time. Wall Street has a bloc of members, too, but the bulk of the nonprofessionals are members of closely allied activities; cartoonists, composers, artists, illustrators, writers and the like.
A number of managers and producers are members; others, some of whose names have been proposed, are not. The Lambs have their own standards of congeniality. We have, also, our own estimate of abilities. I have heard the club buzz with praise for a finely done bit, unnoticed by the public, and the circus stunt of a great name coolly ignored. The democracy of the place is complete and unfeigned. We actors are not the most self-effacing of mankind, but we put aside most of our airs in our club. The motto of The Lambs is Floreant Agni, which, translated from the Sanscrit, means "You may be all the world to your public, but you're only an actor to us." This matter-of-factness seldom is resented, though an occasional old member who has left the stage for triumphs in Hollywood, has found it irritating and been seen less and less about the club when in New York. One old member who has left the stage for tri-
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