Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-05-01

bear saying at last =" it is not often that
/ ask you to sacrifice anything for me,
but do wish you would give up smok-
ing"
ssNo use, mother; I should think you
would know better than to make such a
demand"
"Obey p Numbered voice from the
open door. Let her ightest wish be
law, or beware! My fate may be
yours !"
The deep, tragic tones in which these
words were uttered, the erect, dignifed
form standing upon the threshold with
threatening forefnger pointing directly
at the object of his attack, the flashing,
magnetic eye that compelled attention
and obedience-all involuntarily re-
minded me of an evening some forty
years before when I had seen the elder
Kean advance to the footlights, and,
with rapid, unexpected speech, electrlfy
the audience. So, too, I had seen re-
ligious revivalist single out some stiff
necked sinner in the crowd, and with
darting forefnger pour out the walls of
scriptural vengeance on the unbaptized
head.
"The man must be mad, or stroliing
actor playing part !" cried Charlie,
who was the first to recover from the
general amazement.
The effect of this remark ON the man
was magical; the extended hand
dropped his figure shrank and dropped
into its former listless attitude; the fire
died out in his eyes, and his coat once
more revealed its rents, while his voice,
low and hoarse, muttered an apology:
"Forgive me. I forgot whereI was
and who am. No, can never forget
that. I cannot escape myself"
Nettie's sympathetic soul was touched.
"Perhaps you would like to tell us
about yourself. That is, you might like
to feel that there were those who pitied
your misfortunes. My brother is some
times hasty, but always kind-hearted.
We would all be glad to assist you if we
can"
"My tale is one of horror, and could
gain me only your detestation yet why
should shrink from the recital when
the pain I thereby infict on myself is
the only penalty I can pay FOR my crime?
ct am" he continued, cor rather was:
an actor, and so was my father before
me. As a child, I mimicked the set
phrases and gestures of the actors about
me, and early learned to look upon the
playhouse as my home and the field
wherein I should develop whatever tai
ents I might possess. Ny father occu-
pied the position of leading man at the
B Theater, and was the most popu-
lar actor in town. He basked in the,
glare Of the theater, exerted, nay, ex-
hausted, himself in the effort to please
tickle public, and possibly looked upon
his home only as retreat where he
might recuperate his exhausted ener-
gies and equip himself for fresh
conquests. My mother naturally
looked upon the theater as a
rival, and q successful one, to the
home. Yet, for all that, she never re-
Taxed her efforts to make that home
pleasant and attractive one. Whatever
her sufferings and despair might have
been, she never voiced them. Only I
remember on one occasion she had play
fully asked me what intended to be
when I grew up to manhood, and re-
piled: AN actor, mamma, an actor, by
all means She pressed me closer in
her arms, and felt her warm tears on
my face as she cried out: Oh. not that.
my son! Anything but that. Choose
again, just to please your mother But
I obdurately insisted that I would be an
actor and nothing else. From that mo-
ment my mother seemed to regard me
with great apprehension, and L am
afraid would have secretly rejoiced if
my first appearance had been such an
utter failure as to deter me from taking
any further steps in that direction. But
my father aided and encouraged me.
Himself a careful, conscientious student,
he would quench my too-ardent enthu-
siasm by an immersion in the ocean of
work that lies between every artist and
his goal and anon, lifting me up to his
own lookout, he would point out some
new and undiscovered country where
fresh glory awaited the first conner.
Alternately stimulated and held in
check, I rapidly grew in popular favor,
and divided almost equally with my
father the smiles and tears Of the town.
Oh he alone who has commanded them
can testify to the sweetness Of the
power.
'.About this time there appeared on
the scene one whom my father nervously
feared as a possible rival. He played
parts that my father considered pecul-
iarly his own by right of repeated rep
resentation, and, being young, hand
some and of good address, secured
large following of friends. The misun-
Outstanding between this stranger and
my father was of so serious character
that they only spoke to each other when
the demands of their profession forced
some courtesy from one or the other, and
it required all the firmness of the stage
manager to keep them to their duths.
One night, late in the season, when all
the new plays had been worn thread
bare, an old melodrama was revived, and
to my father and this newcomer the
principal parts were assigned. Each
now started out in the race to enlist
the applause of the audience. My faith
er watched the house nervously, both
off and on the stage, to see to which side
its favor might incline. He seemed to
feel the laurels plucked from his own
and bound on younger brow. Near
the close Of the play my father was to
shoot his opponent, who was ofall dead at
his feet. You have already apprehend-
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