Morris tribune., 1885-04-08
My arms reach o,It,-in vain,-
GROWING GRAY.
Some Lights OF the American ROstrum
and Stage.

1t is not very long ago since Kate
Stanton was heard in the length and
breadth of the land, writes New York
correspondent to the San Francisco
Chronicle. She is living very quietly at
the Hotel Branting, on Madison avenue,
in this city. Her hair is fashionable
silver and her still young face has not
lost its former beauty. She is a little
obese, but in her golden maturity a
very charming woman. l saw her a
few nights since in private box at the
Star theater, enthusiastically applaud
ing Ristori in "Queen Elizabeth. She
was one of the Tilton circle, it will be
remembered, and one of Theodore's
most ardent champions. She has little
to say on that subject now. In fact,
the man so 'tempest-tossed" is nearly
forgotten among the people of to-day.
Almost any sunny day the familiar
figure and nifty stepof Stephen Massett
may be seen on Broadway or Fifth
avenue. Where he lives few know. In
some semi-literary circles he is always
met at receptions. He writes little,
goes to theaters, knows everybody,
dresses fairly, bud in his button-hole
and CHEEKY, breezy "Hellor' for his
acquaintance. Massett's hair is white
as snow and his shirt-front immaculate.
Celia Logan is the only one of the
Electrically noted family who still drives
pen and works to some purpose. She
is making good living now in play
writing. She lives in a neat uptown
flat, and has host of friends to help
her enjoy its hospitalities. She is the
wife of well-known journalist and the
mother of. a boy she hopes to see "some-
body before she dies. Celia Logan is
a lady of brains; cne of the best dra
matte authorities in New York city.
Unlike her companions in age, she re-
tains her fresh complexion and keeps
the white feet of time out of her ''tress-
es of gold.'
Just one block west from my window,
in the middle of Madison square, where
the children roll their hoops and the
converging paths bring the various
streams of humanity to a center, sits
George Francis Train every day, unless
it be an exceptional one for cold or rain.
He is usually reading a newspaper
dressed in heavy brown ulster, a
slouch hat, gloves, and enormous bou-
quet of the prevailing flower. l counted
seven full-blown Marshal Neils on his
coat lapel one day. He has no outward
appearance of ''being off, - but his eye
is restless, his talk vehement, except in
speaking to children, All the city's
children know him, and he is their pa
tron saint on their park days"
"Simply clad, without the least pre-
tense, Joseph Jefferson walks the streets
unrecognizcd by the greater mass of
people who have filled the theaters
night after night and made the "wel-
kin ring" with their enthusiasm over
Grip Van Winkle." His slight phys
tque is little bent; his shortcut hair,
beginning to whiten around the temples,
tells the one story of humanity-viz.,
final decay. Mr.. Jefferson is one of our
wealthiest actorS-a deservedly popular
man off the stage; rare good heart
and genial nature keep company with
his talents. He is the father of a good
many Jeffersons, but, as far as known,
there is not a second edition of Rip
or bob Acres among them.
Edwin Booth, like his friend Jetfer-
son, stoops just little under the grace
full honors of his fame and age. The
footprints of impertinent Old Time have
pressed only lightly among the raven
locks that brow his head. The eyes, of
such wondrous depth and color, still
wear the touch of melancholy, but the
fine face still holds its own grandly.
Mr. Booth has but one family tie left,
and this is his daughter, Edwina. She
has recently entered society in Boston
with some zest and has given some not
able receptions. The stuff and non
sense about Mr.. Booth being unkind to
his late wife (nee Mary McVicker) was
a vile assault upon a gentleman with
out cause. 1t was Mr.. Booths misfor-
tune to be afflicted, in his wife's mental
condition, as few men are, and it was
an indelicate mistake that drew the
curtain partially away from their family
affairs for the prying eyes of worldly
gossips. The most dignified tribute to
the dead wife, whose Sufferings were
was the perfect silence of
Mr.. Booth to all the ungenerous, scandal
Gus talk. In that tribute the world of
gossip was rebuked, if it knew enough
to read it Alright.
Poor John Mccullough was on Broad
way few days since, walking toward
the Sturtevant hotel, with an effort in
every step that was sad enough. He
had his overcoat over his arm. and it
seemed to be load to him. His face
was sharper and thinner than usual,
but at the first sight few would see any
thing wrong; only in the restless shift
ing Of the coat and the unsteady pace,
slow as it was, along the crowded street.
Sure enough, .'they fret their little time
upon the stage" and the world knows
them no more. There are hopes of Mr..
McCullough's recovery from his present
condition.
Of course, old San Franciscans re-
Harry Edwards, who used to
play at Maguire's, the Metropolitan,
and the California. He manages Wal I
lacks stage and keeps an eye open for
any stray bug that may creep out of the
cracks of the walls. Mr.. Edwards is
one of the most popular actors in the
guild of the profession. He is robust
and healthy, Notwithstanding the snow
las fallen upon his head, and his friends
sre legion. Although attached to what
s known as the English theater, he has
been so long Americanized wo seem to
hold a mortgage on him.
We might enumerate list of fair wo-
men, whose years are honored by their |
services upon the stage, but they have |
10 adroitly managed to outwit the FROST
work of age by wigs; cosmetics, and
,ther devices, they still bear the daisies
If summer in their lives.
Dr.. Lamphere, of Saginaw, has
ow which sports sixty well-developed
orns, and the animal recently gave
firth to calf which promises to be
mite as much of q curiosity. the little