Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-04-25

pared for him, until room had been
found, if necessary, even somewhere at
the back. for Shakespeare himself.
So, if love and sympathy could have
given substance to his vision, Tony had
lived right royalty to The end Unhap-
PLY, love and sympathy, useful things
in their way, were powerless for This.
They helped him, it is true, when he
had to bury his boy for five pounds.
But matters did not better with the
heeting years; ana SO it came to pass
that when, after twenty of them had
shuddered away-his gentle wife having
long since passed, with all her hopes, to
the practical quiet of suburban ceme-
tery-he found himself In the back
street of a provincial town, dying in
the dingy poverty of a second floor, he
realized that, for good or i'll, he had
either not had, or If it had come to him
unawares, he had somehow missed his
chance. Tom Barrymore, who never
walked out without an original five act
comedy of his own liz his coat pocket, set
it down to the iniqulty of what every gen
ius who has not belonged to it, known
as the dramatic Ring"
| The public did not know, but Tom
did, that the select few whose names
were figuring everlastingly on every
playful were in league with metropoli-
tan management generally, for the sole
purpose of F'strangling out" rising gen
Jus. Their signs and passwords were
known. There was no secret about it.
| They met once a week In a coal-cellar in
the AdeIphi, and burning an official
MS, bought by the pound from a
starving outsider, drank to the "damna-
ton" of all maiden efforts in bottling
gin.
The Ring was, therefore, a power
full and admirably conceived institution
However, whether or not the "Ring +"
had anything TO do with it, Tony did
not make his mark as a dramatic au-
thor. And so, at length, worry, disap-
pointment, work and want brought upon
| him the last dark hour of his life.
Here he was dying, poor fellow. Aud
as with his wasted hand he stroked the
fair hair of the pretty child, a slender
girl of sixteen, who sat by his bedside,
a mist came before his eyes, and he
cried, passionately, but in a thin, feeble,
and failing voice:
Without me! Merciful heaven!
what will she do without mel'
His little daughter kissed his white
forehead, gave him some toast-and- wa
ter, and with bright, hopeful smile,
whispered great deal of loving chatter
IN his ear:
| 1t ought to have rallied the forces of
man dying in poverty and want, of a
broken heart, for its substance was as
| follows:
Everything was taking turn for
the better. Uncle Bartholomew had
sent a check for two pounds, which would
pay third of the rent. That was some
thing, wasn't it? But what was that to
the letter of Mr.. Tarragon, the mana
ger of the Theater Royal? That was
quite glorious; could be read again and
again. Could words say more than
this ?"
"THEATER ROYAL"
DEAR SIR have read your piece, Toe
Dark Waters, again carefully, and like it, and
propose putting it up for my opening on the
10th. This will give us three clear rehearsals
As to terms, we will say pound an act? Does
this suit you? I'm sorry you are still indis-
posed. IT you can't look in on me to-day, 1
will call on you tomorrow and bring my lead
Ing man with me. He wants a little more 'fat
for him elf IN the tag, and Will explain. He is
right about this. Act III must have bit more
backbone In it. Think this over. Yours faith
fully. ''SIDNEY TARRAGoN."
"Therel wasn't the good fortune COM
ing at last =
The author of Dark Waters " said
nothing, but drew the hand of the loving
little speaker to his pale lips.
At that moment a pOrtly parsonage
with haxen beard, concealing very
cruel and ugly mouth, pushed himself,
without knocking, into the sick room,
and sat himself down in the one easy
chair with his hat on.
ga nice fellow you are, coming down
to this place and getting i'll. [ heard at
the club last night you were really bad,
but you don't look it. Why, you've
twice as much color as l have What
humbug you are 70
Mr.. Bartholomew Give got up quite
annoyed.
CT might have saved myself this jour
pey," he said, glancing savagely round
the room; its clear I've had it for
nothing"
The dying man looked at his portly
visitor steadily. A faint fire kindled in
NAN "O0 O~SA y Oo ~ OeAAO 1Cy
said, measuring out his words slowly,
with the emphasis of restrained but ris-
ing passion; T" 1 haven't sent for you;
and as am dying, in the name of God,
if you have anything human about you
go, and let me die in peacel" He drew
his child close to him.
The other glared at him in earnest
now.
sob! this is your gratitude, is it?"
he growled, with set teeth. SO Well. it's
just like you. You've always been the
same; never been grateful for anything
anybody has ever done for you. Here
I've come down from town merely to see
what / could do with your girl, if any
thing happened, and you abuse me as
if [ hadn't helped you out of half doz-
en- mesaes-yes, over and over again!
And you back her up against me, do
you? Why, you fool, but for me she'd
have to go to the Work-house, and you
know it. Yet you rail at me like a mad
man. You'd better look out, and not
drive me too far!"