Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1882-08-25

ana performances, and to occasionally
indulge in the extravaganza of han
som cab on rainy night; now her
carriage is as 'stoney" as any on the
Avenue and her elaborately furnished
apartments inspire the eloquence of
the reporters, who likewise revel in
descriptions of the possessions and
surroundings of Clara Morris, Sarah
Jewett, Mary Anderson and score
more of the favorites of the stage.
This is the rosy side of theatrical life,
and no wonder that thousands of poor
and ambitious girls are sosfascinated
by it as to be eagar to join the pro-
fession and substitute ease, luxury,
fattery and fame for labor, poverty,
loneliness and obscurity. 1t is a pity
that every dose Of such mental poison
should not be accompanied by an an
tidote, so that these girls should know
something of the frightful struggle
necessary for the ordinary young per-
son to gain livelihood on the stage,
and, at the same time, to preserve her
integrity and self-respect. The few
succeed. The thousand fail. Let me
tell you little story to show more
strongly
THE SHADY SIDE,
With the proviso that it is absolutely
true, save only such variation in mi
nor details as to prevent Identified
ton. Sitting at the opera, one night,
last winter, beside gentleman of
means and leisure, whom l may des-
ignate simply as Man About Town,
he called my especial attention to a
member Of the ballet corps-a tall,
beautiful woman, with mass of jet
black hair, but face whose ghastly
and death-like pallor, not even stage
powder or the theatrical snake up"
could conceal. | knew something of
the physical signs of health and dis
ease, and studied the woman closely
with my glass, as she went through
her part, with exact precision of time
but with such manifest lack of
strength, that at times she seemed on
the point of fainting. At length l
said: ''That woman is starving to
DEATH" "Yes," he replied, "she will
be dead in six months, and she would
gladly welcome the advent of it were
it not for her child" 'You know her
then?" l said, with quick remem-
brance of marvellous reports of his
somewhat adventurous and rapid life
eyes, and a sadder story l do no
know than hers. 1t is the custom
to look upon the women of the stage
as doubtful characters, at best, and up
on ballet dancers as already commit
ted to perdition, but there is net, il
all the audience, a woman more emit
tied to respect than she. Sometime
may tell you the story; it is too long t.
give you between the acts.
My curiosity was aroused, and
studied the face of the dancer.
had been very beautiful, and the beau
ty had, by no means, gone, but ther
was look of physical and mental suf
} fering that was pitiful. saw her up
on the stage; the look and the weak
ness were still there. Then the sea
J son closed.
Two days ago, was sitting on tn
) piazza at Manhattan Beach, when
, gentleman dropped into chair besid
, me. 1t was the Man About Towr
| had not seen him since the night c
the opera. ! asked after the dancer
prepared to hear that she was deae
, No. She was still living, but ill. An
5 then, under the moonlight, with tn
merry crowds passing before us, h
/, told me the story of
A BROKEN N-HEARTED woMAN,
: Which l will truthfully repeat in m
' next letter, hoping it may helpto cle'
) away some of the glamour of tn
! stage for those who only see the eas
! side.