The Columbian fountain., 1845-12-23
SCELLAME ECUS.
THE ACTORS CHILD.


.:Shade Of Kemblep' calculated Ward, at
that time manager for Jefferson and Macken-
zle, in Baltimore shere it is past seven
o'clock, and 'croot'd back'd Richard not
in his dressing room y
"My dear STRIP said the most original of
all men, the imperturbable Thomas w.
Garner, " do not be precipitate. When the
late Daniel Reed
6 An you love me, Hal,'' interrupted the
stage manager, ego to tie dogs!' p and then
the poor manager chaaaed,a ,as was his wont,
with his hands clasped in agony, from one
side of the Holiday street stage to the
other.
"Ring in first music, sir ~ inquired the
call boy, who scratched his head and seem
ed to enjoy the despair of his mana
ger.
"Ring, You red-headed imp of Satan
you juvenile Caliban-get out Of my
sight, or Pll wiring your neck Off
Away went the call boy and away went
the manager. Ward searched every bar
room in the vicinity of the theatre for the
great tragedian, but all in vain. At last a
little boy came running to him almost breath
less with fatigue, and told him that Mr..
Booth was in hayloft in Front street.
The manager found crowd Of people gath
cred around the building in question, and he
had difficulty in edging himself through the
dense mass. Climbing up rough ladder,
ne cautiously raised his head above the floor
of the second story, and there saw the OBJ
,f a. IL,
wreath of straw about his temples in imita-
ton of crown.
"Booth - said the manager imploringly,
I" for Heavens sake, come down. It's near
" eight o'clock, and the audience will pull
the theatre to pieces"
The ragedlan fixed his dark eve on the
intruder, and raising his right arm majesi-
cally he thundered forth
al am seated on my throne!
As proud a one as yon distant mountain,
Where the sun makes his last stand :'''
"Come, my dear fellow, let's go; we'll
have glass Of brandy, and supper, and
all that. Come, please come"
Booth descended gracefully from his pine
throne, and kissing the tips Of Lis fingers,
replied with smile, g | attend you with all
becoming grace = Lead on, my Lord Of
Essex. To the Tower-to the tower!"
After little persuasion, Ward led the
tragedian TO the theatre, got him dressed,
and the play went on. Just as the second
act was about to commence, messenger
covered with dust, rushed behind the stage,
and before he could be stopped, was in earn
est conversation with the tragedian.
"What I" said Booth, as he pressed his
long fingers on his broad white temples, as
though he tried to clutch the brain beneath
=" dead say you? Dead and buried
Ny poor little child-my loved, my beaut-
ful one?" And then seeing the curtain rise,
he rushed on, commencing
''She has health to progress far as Chetsy,
Though moi to bear the sight Of me- &c. sc.
The beautiful scene between Ann and
Goster was never better played The ac-
tor, g the noblest of them alp when he
chose to be, gave the words of the bard
with thrilling effect; but there was strange
calmness i'll his manner tlat told his mind
was not upon the character. Sill the
multitude applauded until the old roof rang
again, and those behind the scenes stood
breathllss with eager delight. The third act
came on, but Booth was nowhere to be
found
1t was bitter cold night, and the farmer
as he drove his wagon to market, was start
led, from his reverie as he saw horseman
wrapped in large cloak, which as it opened,
disclosed glitlering dress beneath, ride rap
idly past him. 1t was Booth i'll his Richard
costume Madness had seized him, and re-
gardless Of everything, at the still hour of
midnight, he was going to pay visit to his
dead child. Drawing his flashing sword,
and throwing his iewelled cap from his
head, he lashed his horses flank with the