St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-09-15

1t was Christmas time in st. Giles
workhouse, and there was quite large
party of us engaged in waiting on the
old people and in ministering to their
creature comforts. We gave them a
sort Of entertainment afterwards
songs, recitations. some amateur con-
sjuring, and instrumental music. After
the dinner came the entertainment;
and just before the entertainment an
ounce of tobacco or snuff, whichever
they pleased, was presented to each In
mate. As l handed the tray containing
the little packet, he stretched out
shaking hand and thanked me in a voice
which seemed familiar.
Il think we must have met before,
my frIend?" said.
'.Lor' bless you, Mr. Nibbs!" said he.
81 used to see you most every night
before my misfortune-my misfortune
as brought me here" he added YEARLY.
81 don'tremember your face" an
swered; and yet seemed to have seen
it before.
my face is about all that is left of
me-" he replied. and then he did very
extraordinary thing-he blew out his
cheeks, he screwed up his mouth. his
eyes seemed nearly to start from his
head, and his scalp, which was covered
with scanty masses of gray hair, began
to work up aud down with a sort of me-
chanical movement, and then he uttered
the extraordinary words, ''Here we are
againi"
Good graciousw said 1, "why it's
Molino."
That's me, sir" he said, ''or what's
left of me-
1 got rid of my tray OF tobacco and
snuff, and then came back to the old
man. He wasn't an old man in years,
but he looked seventy at the least. We
had been rivals once, MOlinO and l.
When / first began writing for the
stage-and L began at twenty did a
good many things for the bird of
Prey" was glad to write comic song
for a guinea. | knew what poverty
was; but was perfectly happy, for |
was in love with an angel, And so was
Moline. was nobody-an outsider,
a mug" He was somebody, for he
was 1.-The great little Molino," the cele
brated clown; and of us two she GER
tainly preferred Moline. There was no
doubt about her preference, for she was
engaged to be married to him; and then.
knowing how the case stood, /, as
an honest man, gave up my suit.
And then l lost sight of her for some
years, and Moline dropped out of my
memory altogether. She was certainly
the most graceful dancer | have ever
seen. The school of dancing at the
BIRD of Prey" used to be quite an in
stitutiOn, and 1t was tradition there
that the best dancer always played Col
umblne at Christmas. Talk about the
poetry of motion-talk about aerial
grace and rhythmic movements: Never
before or since have | seen such dane
ing as Lena's, and l don't believe l ever
shall. if live to be hundred. Other
people thought so too, and they didn't
keep Lena Fenton long at the BIRD of
Prey" She came to the West end, she
played at the Peristyle, she got speak
ing part, she rose to be the stock
chambermaid of the establishment;
then she made hit in melodrama;
then she married a millionaire; then
her millionaire smashed up, and Lena
Fenton now plays aristocratie old wom-
Ell and honestly earns her $500 year.
But at the tim l am speaking OF
Lima Fenton was not an old woman,
she was. l repeat, an angel. thought
so, Molino thought so, and so did the
British public.
"You heard how [ came to grief, sir,
! suppose?" he said. ut was along of
beer"
"Why, you were most sober man,"
l remarked.
AYE" he replied, charley water was
my drink in those days, sir. A clown
don't do much good unless he is sober
mann; but it wasn't the beer [ drank,
sir, that settled me, it was the beer |
had to give to other people. Glowing
was very different thing in those days,
sir, wasn't it? Why, there wasn't a
house in London as didn't run its pam
temime; and it was the comic business
they went to see, sir. then, and not the
ballets and the professions and
the gentlemen and ladies from the
music halls. They used to go to
hear me sing Hot COLLINS and 'Tippety
Witchet': aye, and | got treble encore
for 'em every night, too-as you know,
sir. Where are the clowns gone to now
a-days, sir? can tell you," he said. in
a solemn whisper-''to the workus, sir;
that's where they're gone. Why, there's
three on us here. It's the music halls
that did it. If the public sees Glowing
all the year round there, and uncOm-
monty bad clowning, too, they don't
want to see it at Christmas; and that's
the secret. L don't suppose there was a
happier HAL Ill Iilc NuOlC plOlCooiou,
he continued, sadly, Ethan was when
Twas PLAYING clown in Harlequin Fe-
fo-fum.' l had saved money. / had
furnished little house in HOXton; and
we were to be married in a week, Lima
and 1. The pantomime had only three
more nights to run. and Luke
the Labourer' and The Muir
der at the Red Barn were
billed for the following Monday.
l had big jump through a clock-face
in the second scene of the harlequinade.
I was very proud of my jumps; they
were longer and higher than those of
any other man in the profession. There
was no fakement, no hidden spring
board or dodgery about it. l took an
honest run from the footlightS, and
used to go clean through that clock-faee,
though it was seven feet from the
ground, head first, every night; and four
Supers used to catch me IN a blanket the
other side. She was on at the time; for
when / had taken my jump, which
always brought down the house, she
used to dance the VarSOviana, which
was new thing then, with old Brown
the harlequin. The beer for the supers
used to be pretty heavy tax; and if
one didn't pay for it, it meant getting
knocked about or breaking ones neck.
My four chaps were always pretty par
ticular. for they got their beer money
regularly. If l hadn't been quite so
liberal it would have been better for
me. That night, sir, those four supers
were stupidity drunk. took my jump.
and as | flew through the clock-face l
herd the beginning of the the tremen-
dous shout which came from the front
of the house; and then, instead of being
cauuht i'm the blanket, | shot head first
into the brick wall at the end Of the
theater. Those four chaps had for
gotten all about me, and were talking
together, with the blanket in their
hands, because, as tell you they were
stupid drunk.
ut wasn't till three weeks afterward
that came to myself; and then | was
in bed in Bartholomew hospital, and
was light-headed and weak as child.
The next day was Wednesday. We'd
nesday is visitors day at the hospital,
and Lima she came to see me; and she
satsby my bedside and cried as though
hos hno~S mould hrooly nd no