The evening times., 1897-09-02

an unadorned pale hue organdie with a
broad hlue satin sash. She 1 = the picture
OF sweet, ingenious girlhOod. she looks
- pretty as the prettiest picture any OF Us
cherish. for she looks a. our mothers did
in the old-fashiOned times when they were
girls and fathers came courtin'.
She comes on the stage up back as If
unconscious OF AN audience, but applause
is sure 20 greet this pretty girl, and she
bows winsOmely and says genially: How
d'y'da? I'm glad 10 zee you and from
that moment there is mutual feeling of
sympathy and interest. Everything she
does is accepted as all right.
Her first song is usually little ballad
of sentiment. Then, by way OF demon
strating her versatility, of which she has
q pIenteous endoE Eymeut, she next launches
into an Irish song, q tender piece of char
acteristic music, with all lottie Gilsin's
chic, but none OF her suggestiveness;a a wink
that would have outwinked Cissy, If Cissy
hadn't winbed first; q long Celtic stride,
that suggests the best fun of Maggie Cline,
but with none of her noise, and a skirt
manipulation that hints of the charm of
buoyant Lottie Collins. When she has
the house firmly convinced that she is a
colleen OF the purest blood, she drops her
left shoulder, tips the leader to change
the air. and she gives a darkey song and
impersonaiion in as admirable way as
the Irish hymn preceding. Demands
for more and more bring out an original
song, 10 the tune which stimulated the
muscles of the dancing girls of the streets
OF Cairo.
Ill f,,t ~,
temperament of the last character she as
suIned. Il really feel all ] do" said she,
as she started toward her dressing room,
and this interview began. Il take my
work very seriously. 1 look upon my songs
as oiIaracteriZations rs much as if they
were in play. When l sing that beautiful
@ittle ballad, 1t Don't Seem Like the amc
Old Smile which, by the way, won the New
Ycrk Journal prize. i feel with all my heart
for the poor fellow whose storyI am trying
to tell. When sing It's Custom, in Ire
land I'm Irish of the shamrock green va
riety; YOU can seeit I'm the height of my chin
ana the twist of my toe. As for the darky
songs well. ifI don't do the wench as she
lives and is, it Is not because 1 oughtn't to.
II was born in Nashville, Tenn, of
American parents, and like all Southern
girls was raised by a nanny. My father
was colonel on Col. Briggs staff In the
late war, and served from start TO finish.
NV mother attained some distinction as
magazine writer. Perhaps some of the
older generation win remember Virginia
Berkely, for that was her name.'
And now did You happen TO. forsake
domesticity and espouse the stageg"
well, to tell the truth, Just became
plain stage-struck. At school 1 made ali
the speeches, and got up all the entertain.
ments, and between times managed to
keen in considera BILE trouble over fractured
rules and neglected discipline Finally, I
up and ran away. That seemed quick,
effective, ,uhdenonstrative, and at the same
tsme romantic, way of achieving my am
biitons.
"A boat took me 10 st. Louis, and after a
sbort apprenticeship IN the chorus Emma
r. Steiner. the woman leader, took nae
out of the chorus and drilled me In .