Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1893-06-29


voutly thankful. Over the tea you will
hear the sad story OF a young woman
who believed she had great dramatic
ability, and who, against Aunt Louisa's
advice, put the $500 she possessed into
the hands of manager who would per-
NIT her TO play Juliet. No statement
need be made of the result. Now she
is stranded in an extreme southern city,
and she belongs away out west, and
Aunt Louisa is DESTROYS of getting mp u
benefit or collection, to put her ON her
feet again. Having seen her Juliet, you
doubt the desirability of that, but Aunt
Louisa says, "Ah, we'll, come now, she
is Il girl; she is alone, and We ought to
do all we can for her" Aud then you
feel that for Aunt Louisa's sake you
will forgive the Juliet. When there is
a fair in New York, there are more pic
lures of Aunt Louisa sold, if she sells
them herself, than Of anybody else; and
nobody, except "A disappointed politi-
clan, ever attempted to cheapel her in
one; and she just said to him, "My dear
boy, know you are in hard luck, and
feel sorry for you, and you can have
it for nothing" The story goes that
that man was so delighted that he paid
her $50 for it; but you cannot vouch for
this.
Among the actresses tn tre Is a general
opinion that the mere fact Of there being
IN what they pleased TO term the "pro.
fession," us If no other existed, entities
them to call on Aunt Louisa for any
thing they may happen to want. They
borrow clothes; they borrow money;
they unfold their troubles to her, and,
worst Of all, they read their plays to
her, and yet sine lives, and is happy
through it all. Once q week she goes
around to visit the sick actors in the
hospitals, and when you saw her the
other day she was in fighting trim. be-
cause she couldn't sec why some Of them
couldn't be boarded in the country, in
stead of paying for them in the otcity.
You think she brought that board 10
agree with her. As you said before,
Aunt Louisa is not old in years, but she
commenced playing old women's parts
when she was about 20, and the theatre
people have an idea that no woman
ever does that who isn't old-she has
an elderly reputation. When somebody
dies, Aunt Louisa is rung up to give
particulars about them, and 10 tell
"HSth1l sHN 10 SolHS W lnt lNHtIdl Vt
not, No actor is too lowIy for Aunt
Louisa not to pay him the last parting
tribute of respect, and there has been
many funeral here in New York,
where a woman who loved a man, wcpt
out her sorrow ON Aunt Louisa's breast,
and was consoled and made happy.
Over the tea, you hear pleasant, kindly
gossip; and you laugh once in a while
at Aunt Louisa's scorn, which is fine,
about somebody who puts on airs You
look at her closely; She must have been
pretty girl; she is u good looking
woman, and il time has written few
lines on her face, they have only in
tensitied the kindliness and brought out
the merry look.
RooTH SENT HER sGLK STOCKINGS.
The funniest story you ever heard
about Aunt Louisa happened when you
were in London. Edwin Booth was
playing there, and knowing Aunt
Louisa's answering patriotism, he sent
her, Tor joke, pair OF silk stockings,
striped in red, white and blue That
night Aunt Lou had a box to see the
play; Mr.. Booth noticed his company
were ratified, and CHANGING at the box, at
once, to his horror and delight, he dis
| covered Aunt Louisa sitting in all the
gorgeousness of black velvet, and on
her breast sign which read ''I'd wave
them, but got them on" The gentle
Dane forgot the King of Denmark, and
the curtain had to 20 down in hurry,
TO the tune Of "God Save the Queen"
Somebody tells you the time, and you
have to fly from Aunt Louisa promising
n MA nj l,.. I,,Ii
and wishing that Aunt Louisa may live
forever, and if she ever does have to
leave this world, may She so to one
where the angels will all lift their halos
on their heads and call GU; "God Bless
Aunt Louisa"
ENDING LIFE IN a HOSPITAL.
A hospital isn't pleasant place, but
You can't stay away when you get
despalring note like the one in your
hanu; II Is from a man, d wretChCd, I'M.
| happy man. You buy u bunch of sweet
peas TO take TO him, and when you get
there, his one dcspairing cry is, Don't
let me be buried by any charity; don't
let me be put where they put paupers."
And then he tells again to you the
wretched story of Ills life; Of the success
Of MS books; OF his happiness, which
you know showed itself IN dissipation.
| men he wonders why the next book
| laliei, ana he blames the critics, and he
ulames the world, and he blames every
one nut Tho right person, himself. You
console him a. well AS you can, for YOU
| Know that death Is very near, and you
| promise him that he shall be taken
away from the noise Of the great city,
| and buried in quiet country church
yard, where, If il is possible, his brain
and his body will rest. You so away
having done the best you can, but still
| you sigh. You cannot make him happy
IN any way, and the restless, miserable
life will wear itself out and You wonder
what will be set down to its credit on
that awful Book.
You go home to dress for dinner,
and while you are puttng On your mo
lrock, lrst one face and then another
comes up before you, and you see the
Italian girl, you sec Maggie getting mar.
rlcd, you see dear Aunt Louisa, yOu see
the sick man, and later on, when a
would-bc novelist tells you that there is
nothing in everyday American life to
write about, you look at him in amaze.
ment, and you realize that he doesn't
see life; he only secs men and women
walking around like puppets wound NJ.
lie doesn't get into the heart Of things
and he hasn't enough heart TO draw nv,
ing, breathing people 10 him lie always
ses the mask and not tue face.
THE GREAT PROBLEM OF LIFE.
There never was such great mclo
drama as life itself.
The villain is always lurking around
ready to do evil, aAd yet You think,
even the villain has u tender spot.