Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1895-12-15

n,sblic libraries studying out the his
tories of France, finding out each little
story connecteds with the kings and
queens, andSbuildingsa romance ABOUT
II Ftlll OF life, he soon spent the
small amount of.money he had. Occa-
sionalTy a fewgfrancs were earned by
+ IA story, or-an- essay Sold to one OF the
journals of the day. This young, man
grew poorer and poorer. The puDilsh-
ers laughed at his novelSAand refused
to read them. The day came when
there was nothing left Before MIN
there seemed only starvation. Tnat
he would not submit to. All of one
long day he worked in the library, and
went home only because he knew there
was a pistol there. Such home! A
garnet room at the top of a miserable
house, tenanted by poor writer's IKE
himself. thieves and wretched women.
He entered his room, found match,
the last one: struck tito light the bit
of candle that was to show him how TO
aim correctly. The match went out. 1t
was fate. He laughed long and loud
". Just then he heard voice in the
hall. for he had not thought to close his
door.
A WOMAN'S VOICE 1T WAS THAT
SPOKE.
She said: my neighbor, do you wish
a light? Take one from my candle
A little seamstresS, trim grlsette,
stood before him and pleased his eyes.
He chatted with her; he found he could
laugh, and laugh merrily. He was
still young. She followed him into his
room The door was closed. Alexan-
Dire Dumas, pere, never forgot that
night, when all the world was reading
the Three Mousquetaires," but can
you blame Alexandra Dumas, fills, for
having in his nature much that was
dark, since his father was thinking OF
killing himself and his mother was I'M
happy and half-starved?
But always this child of great au
thor and a poor seamsteress plead for
women; always his pity went out to
those little children against whom the
worlds hand is raised before they are
born; and surely no better words can
be put upon the tombstone Of Alexan-
Dire Dumas than those which formed
the title of a great play-"L'ami des
Femmes"
1t seems strange that while we are
all thinking and talking of this great
writer his plays should be put upon the
stage and the leading parts played by a
woman whose rendition of them would
have pleased their creator. Can more
than that be said? She is an interest
ing woman, almost as much Of girl as
was Juliet and yet with Juliet's ability
to read the human heart.
A LOVELY ENGLISH WOMAN
You know who l mean-Olga Neither
sole. She comes to us from England.
and when you look at her, when you
hear ner speak, and some one says
English" you smile in disdain. Then
there is hint of the Spanish blood, but
your smile comes just the same. Once.
years ago, | visited in the North, and
with the early springtime went out to
look for arbutus One in our search |
party came to me. awe-stricken, and |
held in his hand what was strange to |
him in this cold country, but which l
knew as the bloom of the South-the |
passion flower. How did it come there?
Who can say? By chance on the |
wings of heaven, brought by balmy |
wind. That is Olga Nethersole.
She is the best type of French wo-
man, and she comes from England.
The voice is soft and sweet, without
any accent The eyes are pitiful. They
look up to YOU and ask for your love
and sympathy, and never a word is
spoken. They are wonderful eyes,
pure eyes; eyes that tell their own story
of goodness and of seeing goodness in
other people, which is so much better
than announcing ones own virtue.
But the plays the thing" Last night
it was Camille. Before that it was
'Frou-Frou," and before that it was
Denise" Such wonderful women,
And each so unlike the other | say to
this citizen of the world, for England |
can no more claim Olga Nethersole |
than can France or America. How |
do you feel when you play part? Are |
you Denise?"
There was no hesitancy-the answer |
came quickly. Honestly, | could not
say to myself will be Denise, l will be
Frou-Frou. or | will be Camille, but,
when Sdl lUGlT MOIuS, NUtu am Nv
ing her life, before know it I am over
come by the strong personality and be-
come another woman. 1t seems as if,
whether-I willed it or not, the spirit of
the one woman came into me, filled my |
heart, brain and body, and | speak and
move as if / were her, because for the
time being | am that woman. If you
said to me, Cough I could not do it.
But
WHEN ! AM CAMILLE
Il never give it a thought The cough
comes naturally because ! know | am
dying of consumption, and that cough |
is one of my pains and one of its ter
rors. Then there is Frou-Frou. have !
been asked why | did not conceal or |
gloss over the ENJOYABLE side of her ma |
ture. / couldn't. | would not be Frou- |
Frou. That was the woman. Just as |
she had won your love and your for |
bearance by her sweetness, she did |
some willful thing that made you con-
scious Of the other side of her nature.