The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-02-24

II
"Was there nothing else / could do? p
no other way at all of earning few
pounds until | got some proper employ
ment?"
"What else was there for non-laborel
like mef"
Couldn't 1 write and ask Rober
Franks for the loan of little money? HI
would be sure to lend it. He was Away!
such kind-hearted fellow"
"Wbat would be the use of five or ter
poundse l couldn't ask hina for NOR,
when that was gone. And wh.- does my
little comforter fear?"
And the little comforter cried on my
shoulder, and told me she was afraid-yes
afraid that the degradation would be too
much for a proud spirit, and that if my
heart didn't break l should perhaps destroy
myself
Then turned comforter, and told hel
how there was no degradation to be un
deIgone. / should be honestly earning
my bread honestly working for money
| and under no more suspicion of mendi
cancy than Charles Kean was in acting
| for money on the stage. My stage was to
be the street that was the only differ
ence. I went further, took higher stand
| and, indeed, scared off the ground altogeth-
er by the ii ne got ahead bit. eyes !;
| it was mere question of work and wages
Wasn't it more spirited than living on
ones relatives,-even supposing | could
exist until l heard from England Yes
there could be nothing more honorable
nothing more becoming gentleman of
spirit, barring the one fact of his living
upon his lawfully acquired means !"
scared, as you see, and my little woman,
from crying turned to smiling, and wing
and wing we flew off together"
And /, darling, with my voice can
help you In a few weeks, when you
have made twenty or thirty pounds over
expenses, we can hire rooms, and give
concerts ; and, perhaps, you know, I may
take nearly as well as you. And then we
can go on the stage; and, with your fine
appearance CD we shall be sure to make a
only nalf as well as you, we shall"
Who can blame me for finishing the
sentence with We shall be safe to make
an independence, at least, in two or three
years ~
Or else go home to England as prinaa
donna and tenore."
1t was a pity that it was too late and
too wet, and that tie horse was too tired
The next morningI was still enthusi-
astic enough not to take the trouble
of making my usual daily visit to
the hotel to see the advertisements
in my line in the Argus,-at least, didn't
trouble to go until after two O'clock
But the time went on, and the dusk ar
rived-with the fog too. | had made up
MY mind to set out about six o'clock,
drive into Melbourne, and there deter
mine on where l was to make my debut
whether in city or suburb. Somehow, l
fancied that the fashionable Saint Kilda
| would be my best ground. If | struck
my first chord at between seven and eight
o'clock, it would be cark enough in all
conscience; and my audience, having
dined, would be at comfortable leisure to
attend to me. Well, at about six o'clock,
| then, 1 quietly put the horse to, slipped
| my sack alpaca coat and my s0n6rero into
| the gig, and then went indoors for my
guitar, and half crown from the sad
faced worker.
"Are you going out for long, sir?" Mrs
| Tom Smith asks.
"Yes, Mrs. Smith, | am going to the
play. 1 may leave early, and be home
about ten o'clock"
And then, turning to my wife, l sale
Significantly
"Adeline, Pm taking in the guitar fol
some new strings" for | had perceived
that Mrs Smith had observed me putting
the instrument into the gig. Then AIDE
line, after what | thought very curiou:
silence, gathered up her work in hel
arms, and unceremoniOusly ran out into
| the veranda whereupon Mrs. Tom Smith
looked to me for an explanation of al
this. l laughed, and said,-
"She is angry with me, perhaps, for mo-
taking her to the theatre; but | under
stood all along that she didn't care fol
going"
"Ask her now, sir. I'll take care of thu
children, and welcome"
"That will, Mrs. Smith. l suppose
she wanted to go. but didn't like to leav,
the youngsters to trouble you"
Arrived in the veranda. and going t
its darkest corner among the clematis
where lady was weeping bitterly, not t.
say Historically, | say, gayly,-
".Well, madame, so we have lost Oul
courage at last; and that stage-fortunt
that We were to haYe is not to be ours at
ter all ~
90, William, dear, do forgive me L
"A comforting sort of thing, this is i
not, for this cold EVENING"
90, il is cruel, William, dear-sO crue
in me. But could't help i'll couldn't
indeed and you know am not so stron,
now as-as | might bew
Poor little woman! / knew that wei
enough; for the thought of it was help
ing to break my heart as we'll as hers.
What else could do? stayed to com
fort her; and the effect was so great tina
IN few minutes the bonnet and shaw
? were run IN for, and both of us were seat
! ed in the gig and on our way for drive
l AS then and there agreed upon, it was
: drive of reconnaissance du pays, to sc
/ whereabouts would be likely to pay m,
: declare we drove around the wester
suburbs that night until ten o'clock az
tually picking out the groups Of house
where / was likely to secure an audience
, and debating on the matter as profession
r ally as if were regular old hand at tn
2 business.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Frida
morning in town, going through the ol
unhappy routine of place seeking Br
, all without effect. Is it any wonder thi
| became more and more eager to try In
schemeY And what is more, was d.
termined not to be baked this time b
, any lady at the gate. knew she was
. good hands. So on Friday afternoon
drove back from town; told my old stor
!, of non-success; gave my horse his fee
of chaff (alas he, poor fellow, felt til
masters poverty in his short allowance
= CORN; and, putting my guitar and m
clothes for disguise into the gig, waite
9 for favorable opportunity, when no to
loving eyes were looking on, and droy
off in an undignified canter away on m
fortune-hunting expedition.
b While | am dong this let me say fe
words about my antecedents | am ha
! a foreigner-that Is, my mother, like h
< Of many another Englishman, was a
: alien. This fact goes a good way to a
count for my being a player on that III
/ 80 II -. 7