The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, 1899-12-02

perspective, laws OF vocalization aud
motion distinctive)y it's own. with which
one can best familiarize himself 10 child
hood. You have told, better than any
one else could tell it. how the stage was
your first play ground, how it's settings
and properties, Juliet's balcony, the
throne OF the stage kings, the tomb Of
the Capulets, we're your first play thinge.
How the stars dressing room was sort
OF throne chamber to you. and how
many a time you slipped from your
nurses arms and stole down in your
white night gown to b. hold the elder
Booth, or Macready, or Fanny Kenb!e
posing in their robes Of state before the
mirror. Yet ! think, cir, that much OF
that rich humanity which makes your
character seem less stage creation than
people Of our own world and guests at.
our ireside. is due to the influences that
came from the world without, and to
certain peculiar and trying conditions
with which churlish fortune saw fit to
hedge about your youth. The life OF
tbs strolling player, az you knew it, is
now almost thing Of the past. LIS
hardshipe, its privations, its reproach, i.s
vagabcnd wanderinge, it's jovial accept
ance OF the chances of sun and rain, it's
glorious liberty and it's touch OF veri-
table, first hand romance. are now be-
come legends. I have often wondered
whether those fortunate spectators who
t'emble before the demoniac fury OF
Keene's Overreach or the bursts Of vim
dictive hatred Of his Richard, bethought
them from what strange sources. from
what wracklng experiences, the actor
had distilled such passion aud such bit
terness: from what weary miles tramped
ov,r the frozen slush of winter roads;
from what m SCRABBLE shelters in hay
ricks and stables whittier he and bis
wife had crept for warmth; from what
rope dancing at country fairs. booted
and jeered by rustic pumpkins. from
what frenzied debauches in low tap
rooms, amongst the most depraved of
human kind, Edmond Keene had learned
90 we'll to suffer and to hate. And you,
sir, found honey, even where he found
gall. Like him, you felt the worlds
rough hand and learned life and art
amongst the people, far enough from
the pinnacle you were destined one day
to grace. When in your autobiography,
one Of the most engaging and least pre-.
to ltious works 10 the literature of the
drama, read OF those early Thespian
wanderings of yours; OF that memorable
trip to Chicago by boat, when the shores
Of the great lakes were dotted with In
dian villages, Of your playing in fiat.
boats, drifting down the tui bid Missis-
sippi, Of those transforming nights on
t,e prairies Of Illinois. OF your following
the army into Mexico, Of all the various
extremes Of life you tasted and the man.
full manner in which you mingled among
men while yet boy, then l think with
compassion Of our young actors whose
world lies between Broadway and Fifty.
first street; who spend half their lives in
theaters and hotels and the other half
In the dawdling monotony of Pullman
car. You were never beset by the temp.
titions OF premature or cheaply bought
success. Poverty made you man be-
cure you became an artist. To your
l. g and hard apprenticeship, to your
H.. spd natural growth, to the stub
bo.r 'Miculties which confronted you,
no., ono much o: that perfect finish,
'ha. .h;,n to completely develop the
...,,;.:. { past aud throw it into