The Wadsworth dispatch. [volume] (Wadsworth, Nev.) 1892-1899, 1894-03-31
THE FRIEND In NEED.
IRVlNa'S STORY CT THE "BU5TEDp
ACTORS GOOD SAMARITAN.

A Reminiscence Ufhie.l Seemed to Touch
the Realtors r1eart-oncs re Was Very
Poor and U~nbnown, but Now lie Is Rich
and Famous In All Lands.
The place was Il coay room il a coy
house in a Cuiet street of the Strand,
London. The time was Saturday; the
hour. midnight. a company of profess
sional men. composed of some of the
lawyers, doctors. newspaper men and
actors whose names are lannon's IN both
sides of the Atlantic. was scattered in
groups about the con smoking and
chatting after the Saturday night sup
per. which had b2como II standard lnRti-
tntion with them. In ii sheltered cor
ner over by tho fireplace sat n small
knot of men. every one of whom had
reached the top, or at least the front
rank, OF his profession. The talk, drift
ing in IA smooth, desultory, half sleepy
way from phase to phase, had gradually
assumed a retrospective hue. From one
to another the story had passed, each
telling the taloo of an empty stomach, OF
an empty pocket, or a hopeless tramp
of 80 miles or so in thin shoes along a
snowbound road in search of employ
ment.
Henry Irving, thoughtfully smoking,
with an air of deep attention, had not
spoken and did not speak until the
others, having exhausted their stock,
turned to him. He had experienced
harder luck than any of them, and they
knew it. He looked up at them for a
moment and then, after a pause, said:
The recollection uppermost in my
mind just now, while you boys have
been talking about tramping and winter
roads and all that, is of a certain Christ
mas dinner at which | was present. !
wonder whether any of you remember a
poor fellow. long since dead-JOe Robin
who played small parts in London
and outside it, and who made the one
big mistake Of his life when he entered
the profession. Joe had been in the
mems underwear business and was do
ing well when sn amateur performance
for IA charitable object was organized.
and he was cast for the part of the
clown in II burlesque of Guy Fawkes.
Joe belonged to one of the bohemian
clubs, and on the night of the show his
friends among the actors and journalists
attended in n body to give him a send
off, EIe played that part capitally, and
the mischief might have ended there,
but some one compared him to Gri.
maldi. His fats was sealed. He sold his
stock, went on the stage, and u few
months later | came upon him playing
general utility on u small salary in a
small theater in Manchester. One relic
OF his happy days still remained to him.
He had retained shirts, collars and I'M
derwear sufficient to last him for a gen.
GRAFTON.
But if Joe lacked ability as an ac-
tor he had II heart of gold. He would
lend or give his last shilling to a friend,
and piece by piece his stock of under
wear had diminished until only a few
shirts and u~nderclothes remained to
him.
The Christmas of that year-the
year in which we played together-was
perhaps the Interest l ever knew. Joe
had u part in the pantomime. When
the men with whom he dressed took oft
their street clothes, he saw with "a pang
ut his heart how poorly some of them
were clad. One poor fellow without an
overcoat shivered and shook with every
breath of the wind that whistled through
the cracked door, and as he dressed there
was disclosed a suit of the highest sum-
mer gauze underwear which he was
wearing in the depth of that dreadful
winter. Poor as Joe was. he was deter
mined to keep up his annual custom of
giving his comrades a Christmas dinner.
Perhaps all that remained of his stock
of undertaking went to the pawnbro-
ker. but that is neither here nor there.
Joe raised the money somehow, and OF
the Christmas day was ready to meet
his guests.
Among the crowd that filed into the
room was his friend with the gauze un-
derclothing. Joe beckoned him into an
adjoining bedroom, and pointing to a
chair silently walked out. On that chair
hung a suit Of underwear. 1t was of a
comfortable scarlet color; it was of silk
and wool; it was thick and warm, and
it chung around the actor as If it had
been built for him. AS the shirt fell
over his head there was suffused through
his frame n gentle, delicious glow that
thrilled every fiber of his body. His
heart swelled almost to bursting. He
seemed to be walking on air. He saw
all things through a mist of tears. The
faces around him, the voices in his ears,
the familiar objects in his sight, the
very snow falling gently outside the