Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1875-07-16
gelerteh @isrellany.
THE AWAKENED SOUL
BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY.

Little George was an actress. She
was brought up on the boards, and
knew hardly any life but that of the
stage. The unnatural was nature te
her; the real existence, outside the
illusion of the theatre, she saw only
rs an illusion-at least as something
vague, shadowy and far off, To make
the paradox of her existence still NOR,
striking, George being herself th,
most girlish and womanly of creatures
almost invariably played the part Of
boy or youth in that mock life which
was mere her real life than the other
She played the parts of midshipmen
pages, pantomine, princess, saucy boys
spoiled boys, Little Pickles, precociou.
young swells, and all that kind o.
thing. This was in England, som,
years ago, when the rage for nudity
had not yet set in, and girls put OF
male costumes on the stage only fol
dramatic and artistic purposes-iust
because the exigeneies of the piece re.
quired it: and there WAS no more dis
credit attaching to the practice than
10 Charlotte Cushman's Romeo or He.
len Faucets Rosalind. Therefore lit.
tie George Wilson Gin the stage bill:
she used to be called Miss Georgiana
Melville or BellyIlle, or some such fine
name although she hardly ever knew
what il was to tread the boards in wo.
man's attire. WAS vet as good girl rs
could be found in any sphere or any
petticoat.
Georgiana was very happy. She
and her mother lodged in pretty,
pleasant little house on the south side
of London. The house had tiny
patch in front, and another scrap be-
hind. each about the size of table
cloth; and there were not only roses
in each garden, but there was vine
creeping up the walls which positive
ly bore grapes, real grapes, that were
succulent and good to eat in autmn,
although the place was so near to Lon
don that George always walked to her
rehearsals when the day was fine. She
and her mother had very few friends
any, indeed, outside the pro-
fession. George had curly black hair
and bright eyes, and bright teeth, and
despite her constant consumption OF
the midnight oil exhaled by the foot
lights, she was clear-complexioned.
fresh, healthy, happy girl.
Georgiana and her mother always
went to church OH Sunday. They be-
longed to the established church oi
England-at least they always attend
ed the services of that church. 1t il
not likely that Georgiana ever trou-
bled herself to think about the COM
parative theological merits of one de-
nomination or the other. But there
came to u dissenting chapel not very
far from where Mrs. Wilson lived, a
young, impassioned, energetic, thrill
ing preacher, who created quite stir;
and one day young friend of Geor-
giana's took her to hear the orator.
Rev. Joseph Shelton was young man
with glowing, dark eyes, noble face
full of expression, magnificent voice,
and wondrous natural gift of grace
full, appropriate and commanding ges-
ture. He seemed terribly in earnest,
but mere earnestness never yet made
an orator; and this preacher had 9TH
er, and artistic sense, far higher gifts.
Whatever the subject of his discourse,
Georgiana must have listened; but this
sermon had a painful, an appalling
fascination for her. 1t was denun-
citation of the stage. Pitlessly, patheti-
cally, passionately, the orator exposed
the hollowness, the morbidness, the
temptation, the sins, the shameful
tendencies of the stage. Above all he
condemned it as place for women.-
He drew a CHASTITY picture of the ac-
tress-his typical actress--as disgrace
to woman kind, lure, curse to man.
hood. While he thus denounced the
stage and actors, the preacher proved
himself the most magnificent of ac-
tors in the high artistic sense. How
dull and formal and wooden seemed to
Georgiana's aroused mind, all the wig
ged and padded Richards and Strang-
ers and Claude Melnottes, to whose
monotonous and mechanical declama-
ton she had so long been accustomed!
What a terrible fascination there was
in listening to him and looking up at
him! 1t was as if Eve, when driven
out of Paradise, were, amidst all her
shame and horror, to be thrilled by a
sense of the wondrous beauty and ma
jesty of the expelling angel who BRAN
dished the flaming sword. For, indeed,
to poor George Wilson's aroused and
startled mind, the denunciations of the
preacher seemed nothing short of an
awful excommunication-an author
lied anathema expelling her, the ac-
tress, from the precints of heaven. In