"Shall you visit one of the theatres this evening?"
"I hadn't thought of it; what is there worth seeing?"
"Have you ever seen Mrs. Charles Kean, Ellen Tree that was?"
"No."
"Well, you'd better go and see her. She is the finest walker I ever
saw."
"Glad you mentioned it. I shall certainly go."
It was one of Shakspeare's plays. When Mrs. Kean came in, she walked
across the stage two or three times before uttering a word. I never
saw anything so perfectly grand! The play had then run a hundred and
fifty nights. I afterward met several persons who had witnessed it
more than twenty nights, and most of them mentioned Mrs. Kean's
walking, as the great attraction.
Girls, the Creator has not made you all handsome. He has not given
you all fine faces, or noble proportions; but He has given every one
of you the capacity to learn to walk well.
Why, even a little woman, weighing but a hundred pounds, can make
herself grand by a certain style of walking.
How any of you who desire to appear well, to make a fine impression,
can consent to crawl about, poking your chins out, shoulder-blades
sticking out, and wiggling yourself along in that stubby, stumbling
way, amazes me.
Why, girls, if you were to give one-twentieth part as much time to
learning to walk, as you give to the piano, you would add immensely
to your attractions. Everybody plays the piano. It really is
refreshing to meet one who says, "I have never learned to play." Why
not a few of you, instead of sitting four hours a day on piano
stools, weakening and distorting your spines; why not just a few of
you, by way of variety, cultivate this beautiful, elastic, queenly
manner of walking? You have no idea how, to use a Yankee phrase, "it
would pay," as an attraction.