Stage Confidences: Talks About Players and Play Acting

had commanded me to play at the Saturday performance, saying that if the work made me worse, the doctor would have all day Sunday to treat me in. He really seemed to think that using a c

s, was excruciatingly tender and very sensitive to cold; and the doctor, desiring to heal, and at the same time to protect it

e theatre resolved to keep as silent as the grave on the subject of my flamboyant armour of grease and flannel. But the first faint muttering of the coming storm reached me even in my dressing-room, when the theatre maid (I had n

be wrapped up in a great big shawl, through which the odour could not quite penetrate, so no one suspected me when m

e garden seat, and I had to look up at him with wide-eyed admiration, I saw him turn his fa

bees. Miss Dietz kept her handkerchief openly to her pretty nose; Miss Morant, in stately dudgeon, demanded that Mr. Daly should be sent for, that he might learn the condition of his theatre, and the dangers his people w

he people excitedly declared that awful smell was worst right there, and I had the misery of seeing th

ad just taken my seat opposite him at the chess table, when he gave a little jer

bert, Augustin Daly, Ja

re upon my miserable face, with suspicion sticking straight out of them. With trembling hand I made my move at chess, saying, "Queen to Queen

most outrageous odour," came so swiftly, so convincingl

the audience and of the characters I heard from James the unfinished, half-doubting sentence, "Well, I believe in my soul it's-" But the mother (Miss Morant) approached me then, took my hand, touched my brow, called for help, for a physician; then with the wild cry, "She is dead! she is dead!" flung herself down beside the sofa with her head upon my goose-grease breast. Scarcely had she touched me,

yes to them and said, "I am so sorry for your discomfort, but you can go out and get fresh air; but, boys, just

om sending the prompter (who did not know of the discovery) with a lantern to search back of the scenes for the ca

-table; but Alixe's altar could boast an entirely new votive offering. I received a letter and a box. The letter was an outburst of admiration for Alixe, the "lily maid the tender, the poetical," etc. The writer then went on to tell me how she had yearned to express to me her feelings; how she had consulte

r was evenly warmed with an evident old French brandy,-no savagely burning cooking brandy, mind,-and when the flaky marvel had stood upon the h