Waterbury evening Democrat., 1895-02-11

with Barnum us her manager, she cleared over e2o,oo0. or $ioo. 900, as her share of the profits for the people went wild about hor on every public appearance. A woman of rarc good sense, she carly realized that the time of retirement would inevitably como and prepared for it accordingly, so that when she gave up public appearance she had handsome fortune at her dis pOsal. The proceeds of her American tour she devoted entirely to tho foundation of art scholarships and tho endowment of schools in Sweden. To Liverpool she gave hospital. A wing of another in London is supported by funds given by her bounty.
 Christine Nilsson. like her country woman, Jenny Lind, was very sensible
 and in tho hcyday Uf her glory saved enough money to make her declining years comfortable, She was also discreet enough to retire bcforc sho had become passee She is now 5l years of age and has been , for nearly EinC years Countess Casa di Miranda Her life is a very happy ono Her first husband, a small Parisian broker, to whom she was married when she was | but 10, died in lSS2
 Mario, tho born tenor, was the son of an Italian count, and he himself was form ally known as Mario, Conte di Candid, but Italian noblcmcn arc not always rich, and Mario's father found all his resources l CAIauSlNA MllNil ng nAu DOuEnE ms son n | commission in tho army. Expensive tastes 1 soon compelled the young conto to seek somc better means of gratifying them than | the salary of n lieutenant, and Mario went | on the stage in lS3G, to remain therc until l 1867, when his voice gave way, and bc re- tired He had lived likC n prince, spend 1 ing money for every whim, and to gratify | not only the capriccs of himself. but also those of his wife, the almost equally re
 nOwncd Grisi When his turn came to lCaVo tho stage, Inc had little, but his tastes rwerc just as expensive as ever, and soon he had nothing. For q timo he lived in Paris, but went to Rome, where he could 1.-Two moro chcnply on his greatly reduced means. A curious picture was presented 1 of him many years ago as he cooked his own macarcni in a frying pan over a bra | Zicr of glowing cOals, and in order to lose ! none of tho warmth he had placed his feet on each sidr of the brazicr and folded his coat about his legs Tho pitiful story was tuld by one of his former admirers, and after passing from mouth to mouth finally 1 reached London, whcro 1t excited such 1 sympathy that n cuEcCrt was given for his l benefit, and tho funds realized were for
 warIlcd to him through n London banker. l Poor Mario shed tears at this evidence of kindness and often spoke of it to visitors.
 The annals of the stage abound with in stances of tho pitiful straits towhich UnCc popular players were rCducCd when age had stolen away their popularity, but no example is moro saddening than the fate of poor MoSsOp, MOssOp was an Irish tragedian who, in the middle of the lass century, was accounted tho wonder of the age. It Is a queer commentary on human popularity to reflect that this man, whose namC is now unknown to all save students and annaliSts, was a century and a halt ago one of the most popular players of his time, n rival of Garrick for the public fa- vor, and tillinS, in the eyes of the thcater going world, a place about equivalent to that of Edwin Booth. During his business life Mossop was so we'll paid that he him self would not tell what he got for fear Ot exciting public indignation. Age finally compelled his retirement, when, 10 the as tonishment of his friends, he was found
 to havo so little that tho question of sub
 sistcncc at once became serious. Various plans were suggested for his relief, but while his friends wcre planning Mossop
 took his own courSe- He was as proud as
 ho was poor. and having spent his last
 penny he locked himself in his room, a
 miserable garrct that hc had hired, and
 refused to open tho door or admit any per
 son, no matter wl:om. Various devices
 werc rCsorted to in order to induce him tC
 ohanSo his mind, but all wero unsuocess