, 1889-08-11

Wight, and when she returned to America
abe brought with her certain treasures, which
are the gift Of the poet, In the shape of several
lyrics which have never been published Two
at least were inspired by the lovely Hermione
and Perdita herself, and others are verses
suited for recitation
During her visit there it Is said she used to
I'LL his pipe for him, while he used to bestow
upon her all sorts OF poetical pet names
AT A
There Is no doubt but Miss Anderson used
to work very hard at rehearsals. Here is a
passage from a description of one published
last year;
'It is his highness' pleasure that the queen
ppear before the king
The queen In a little checked wooden dress,
a close fitting jersey Jacket, a very English
turban faced with black velvet and orna-
mented by a bow Of bright ribbon, her long
golden hair done up In close braids at the
back Of her shapely head, with long tan
gloves on her slender handsEthis queen comes
In and droops prettily into a small cane
seated chair, her face the picture of woe.
Who is shei
Why, our Mary, at a rehearsal OF "a
Winters Tale"
The curtain is up, the scenes are all up, too,
and the bare boards of the stage are there.
The great gas Jet is wheeled out In the front
center of the stage and beside it Is a great
big iron affair that looks like a cannon. There
are at least sixty people on the stage. All
the men keep on their hats and overcoats and
even their goloshes and gloves.
They are beginning with the first act. Miss
Anderson plays a dual role-that Of Her
mione and Perdita, her daughter.
81 say, ladies, you do not laugh sponta-
neously. Now laugh as II you really enjoyed
1t. laugh"
1t is the silvery voice of Miss Anderson.
She is not the queen any longer; she is the
manager Of her own theatrical company, and
she is giving her orders in the sweetest, clear
est, but most commanding tones.
Mr.. Abud, her manager, a tall, handsome
Englishman, calls her to one side and they
chat for a few moments.
Get through with the business, Mr.. Lo-
thian," he says to the stage manager.
A handsome, stout, middle aged lady in a
light fawn colored ulster and a small bonnet
comes down the center of the stage. She is
ollowed by three other ladies, all in street
dresses and bonnets. Miss Anderson stands
over by the big iron affair, her hands on her
hips, one foot forward and a very judicial
look on her face.
Paulina, wife of Ambiguous, otherwise Mrs
John Ellington, is the stout lady. She says,
In splendid stage tones:
This news Is mortal to the queenl Look
and sec what death is doingIn
Mercy has Miss Anderson fallen down
deadi All of the ladies are looking with up
lifted hands and horror stricken faces at the
floor; the crowd utters a murmur.
No, indeed, she hasn't. She doesn't fall
down at rehearsals; then the floor is not very
clean, you know. They are looking at moth
ing, and just drawing on their imaginations
for their facial expressions.
HMurmur n little loudar nleasa ~ save tho
supposed dead queen, tapping the point ef
her Oxford boot on the stage. And look,
lookl All of you look as though you really
saw somethingl Don't be stupidi'
And so on to the end of the rehearsal.
There is no woman on either side Of the
ocean today who could take the place Of
Mary Anderson.