The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1892-11-12
stage, her skirts flutterins and curls
flying.
CONCERT HALL HADrrUEs.

| pretty, daintily but simply dressed
| young women, with gentle. purc-feat-
ured countenances, standing by the
railway near the stalls. You suppose
that they have been deserted but for
the moment by their lawful cavaliers,
| aud y on gaze ut them in frank admira-
tion until you see thing which shocks
and startles you. You can scarcely
believe that these lovely women,
whom you have been mentally CLASH
| Tying as ladies, are actually going
about in a free and easy manner i'm
portuning men for drinks" Yet so
it is. The thing seems to be taken
quite for granted. Sometimes they
are repulsed with frown, or ~
sneering smile, but more often they
are given what they want. And then
| you realize that these are but mem
bers OF that strange and dreadful
throng whose nightly promenade on
Picadilly is ignored by the authorities,
spoken OF with bated breath by good
women, and observed with species
OF Mortified curiosity by those who
would be sorry to enter that haunted
region after nightfall, save in the shell
| ter OF q cab.
But the curtain is rising once more,
and there comes Albert Chevalier. the
king of the London music halls!"
There is nobody like Albert Chevalier,
md the hardest heart warns toward
the trim little figure, clad as coster-
monger, or vender OF vegetables
blinking, smiling, and gesticulating,
wordlessly at first, and all in such
q guileless winning way that you feel
ready to shout, and clap your hands
with the rest of the en-
thusiasts. After getting him
self in rapport with his audience,
land gaining everybody's good
will by the delightful "chummy" sort
OF pantomime in which he has man
aged to make you feel that he has
dropped in especially for a little con-
fidential chat about his personal af-
fairs with you. and you in particular,
he begins to sing in irresistibly funny,
cockney accents. His song is an APP
peal to Lily, sweet Lily" who is
''just about tn sweetest, an just
about tn neatest," and who il she
'dies an ould mide, will ave honly
'erself to blime," because he, Emery
'Awkins, asks nothing more of life
than to give her "Mrs Emery 'Awkins
fur Ter fust, last nime!" You might
hear somebody, not Mr.. Albert Chew
alier, sing one OF Mr.. Chevnlier's best
| songs, and wonder what people found
to make such a fuss about in it, but l
| defy any person 1.-THE sort of person
who properly loves his Dickens, or
| even his Thackery) not to go down be-
| fore Mr.. 'Chevalier when he sings his
own songs. You feel impressed with
the idea that costermonger's is
beautiful and idyllic life to lead, and
you resolve that you will present
yourself at the four or five
music halls where this par
ticular costermonger is engaged every
night for aweek. Probably you don't
carry out this rash resolution, but
you are pretty sure to make it in the
enthusiasm of the moment. And Mr..
Chevalier has earned the right to his
popularity, for he is an artist, and
actually, sacrificed comfort and con-
geniality for two years, by going to
live in the costermonger community,
near White Chapel, that he might do
the fraternity's mannerism no inius-
tice when presenting them on the
stage. He comes OF q good family,
does Mr.. Chevalier, and has the right
to call himself gentleman by birth,
as you might guess by his well-shaped
though delightfully."- ugly features, but
after he had been applauded in clubs
and drawing-rooms as an amateur
costermonger, he finally decided ~
take his friends advise and try bic
luck in the music halls, where Tess
clever men than he were earning their
hundred pounds week. It seems
that most London music halls
grant an amateur the chance OF APP
peariDg once, unsalaried, and il he
makes hit is engaged professionally.
OF this privilege Albert Chevalier
awaited himself, achieved tremend-
Gus success and has made more money
since then than any other man sin
the halls"
The prettiest girl before the public
in London just now is Violet De Fries,
who made such success in New York
last spring with her reading and sing
ing. She is very young girl, scarcely
more than Is, but she is winning her
way in London, the papers are talk
ing about her, and people turn to look
after her in the street. She is more
like Spanish senorita than an Eng
lish girl, consequently the artists are
wild about her, and she is sitting for
her portrait to q certain famous II. A.
who will display his work in the gal.
lery Of the Society of Portrait Paint
ers next season. A New York man.
ager is trying to secure her
for q tour OF the states next winter.
WHISTLER AT A DINNER.
Speaking OF one royal academician
reminds me OF another and a funny
little incident which occurred lately
ut the house OF George Boughton, r.
A.. He has built new house, which
is very artistic and all that, and one
night not .long ago he was giving a
dinner party, to which the great
Whistler was invited. Now, Mr..
Whistler. though the most brilliant OF
guests when hs Is once actually Sc
cured, is rather erratic, and apt not
to appear until everybody else is
going, which is little embarrassing
for the host, especially at n dinner
party. So Mr.. Boughton thought
himself particularly lucky when,
n n n II