HE-"Give my regards to the old boy and tell him I'm sorry he isn't a
newspaper critic."
The hero of the play, after putting up a stiff fight with the villain,
had died to slow music.
The audience insisted on his coming before the curtain.
He refused to appear.
But the audience still insisted.
Then the manager, a gentleman with a strong accent, came to the front.
"Ladies an' gintlemen," he said, "the carpse thanks ye kindly, but he
says he's dead, an' he's goin to stay dead."
Mrs. Minnie Maddern Fiske, the actress, was having her hair dressed by a
young woman at her home. The actress was very tired and quiet, but a
chance remark from the dresser made her open her eyes and sit up.
"I should have went on the stage," said the young woman complacently.
"But," returned Mrs. Fiske, "look at me--think how I have had to work
and study to gain what success I have, and win such fame as is now
mine!"
"Oh, yes," replied the young woman calmly; "but then I have talent."
Orlando Day, a fourth-rate actor in London, was once called, in a sudden
emergency, to supply the place of Allen Ainsworth at the Criterion
Theatre for a single night.
The call filled him with joy. Here was a chance to show the public how
great a histrionic genius had remained unknown for lack of an
opportunity. But his joy was suddenly dampened by the dreadful thought
that, as the play was already in the midst of its run, none of the
dramatic critics might be there to watch his triumph.
A bright thought struck him. He would announce the event. Rushing to a
telegraph office, he sent to one of the leading critics the following
telegram: "Orlando Day presents Allen Ainsworth's part to-night at the
Criterion."
Then it occurred to him, "Why not tell them all?" So he repeated the
message to a dozen or more important persons.
At a late hour of the same day, in the Garrick Club, a lounging
gentleman produced one of the telegrams, and read it to a group of
friends. A chorus of exclamations followed the reading: "Why, I got
precisely the same message!" "And so did I." "And I, too." "Who is
Orlando Day?" "What beastly cheek!" "Did the ass fancy that one would
pay any attention to his wire?"
J. M. Barrie, the famous author and playwright, who was present, was the
only one who said nothing.
"Didn't he wire you too?" asked one of the group.
"Oh, yes."
"But of course you didn't answer."
"Oh, but it was only polite to send an answer after he had taken the
trouble to wire me. So, of course, I answered him."
"You did! What did you say?"
"Oh, I just telegraphed him: 'Thanks for timely warning.'"
Twinkle, twinkle, lovely star!
How I wonder if you are
When at home the tender age
You appear when on the stage.
--_Mary A. Fairchild_.
Recipe for an actor:
To one slice of ham add assortment of roles.
Steep the head in mash notes till it swells,
Garnish with onions, tomatoes and beets,
Or with eggs--from afar--in the shells.
--_Life_.
Recipe for an ingenue:
A pound and three-quarters of kitten,
Three ounces of flounces and sighs;
Add wiggles and giggles and gurgles,
And ringlets and dimples and eyes.
--_Life_.