The Savannah morning news., 1901-05-03

Not strikingly so, and yet she was a
wonderful newsgatherer. She had more
facts about me in her notebook than
ever happened"
"A yellow journalistic"
81 don't remember, but she came to
find out where 1 was born, and she put
the question in a most startling fashion
! She said to me in cold. heartless voice,
Miss Morris. I'd like to know where you
were really born?"
Faithful. woman, she was looking for
facts"' / said.
Not at all; she had them for when I
expressed surprise at the question she
| pulled out little book, and. referring to
it, said 4 have here information that you
were born in Columbus, Ohio; also,
find that two years later you were born
| in Cleveland; also, that about the same
time your birth certificate appeared in
Boston, and'-'Stop! Stopv l said, for
she had a long list to read to me. 1 was
in state of alarm and 1 managed to
excuse myself promptly
After all. you did not tell herr"
~ was afraid to trust her"
"Why?"
Poverty Drove Her to Act.
well, if you must have the truth,
was born on ST. Patricks day-alas! in
Toronto; you see the international COM
plication would have been fatal to me-"
Then you are English
The first six months of my life I pass
| ed in Toronto, then l was moved away.
and grew up to become the only woman
member of the knights of st. Patrick.
Here is the decoration they gave me-"
and she showed be a cross. hanging on
green ribbon, on which was inscribed
her title Lady Clara
Then you were preparing for litera-
ture during your life on the stage?"
asked after pause.
CAS- l told you, I went on the stage
| because / was so poor that so cents was
fortune to me. but l believe that of
all the professions accessible to poor
gilrs the stage is the only one that edu-
Gates you as you go along"
But the temptations!' l said, in mock
sanctity.
Whatever you do don't start me on
| that subject" said Clara Morris, brisk
! ly.
IT'S all fudge isn't it?" I said con-
solingly.
TITS ridiculous! How often I've heard
the plaintive wall of the pallid mother,
who, casting her eyes to heaven, says,
| oh, spare my innocent daughter on the
stage" A good woman is good and a
| bad woman bad, whether she goes on the
stage or into a shop" She walked to
window. sweeping the traditional cant of
stage life away with the rustic of her
| skirt, and drew attention to a view far
| up the sleepy river, to beyond the Pail
| sades. 1t was a quiet picture, in such a
deliberate contrast to the streuous action
of her life that 1 asked her if she ever
felt restless for the stage. O.
| when an actress thinks Of retiring
| from the stage there is a novelty at first
| in the calm comforts of a domestic life,
| h,kt aff xxrIaiI % oil fever
work comes over her, and she frets a
| little for the theater4f % sr
She paused a moment, drumming on the
window pane as she spoke, and then
| turning gayly around. she said: I'm
| looking for play that is suitable to my
age and abilities, you know; but it's hard
to find one where the Feroine Is not
younger than I am, and who has not
grown so wide" she added with a laugh.
You literary work takes the place of
your stage life" I suggested
Her Present Audiences.
AT first ] naturally worked on manu-
scripts az night, BECAUSE that had been
my working time for years, but l found
my health would not stand it, and l
had to harness myself anew. l only work
at matinees new"
| How do you mean?
AT noon l take a short walk round
this old-fashioned veranda of my house,
then about u quarter past two 1 sit down
at my desk, the curtain is rung up and
l give a literary matinee to faithful
| but unappreciative audience"
| "Deadheads?"
Far from it they're the liveliest little
heads Imaginable" and she pulled a
cloth off a cage filled with tiny japanese
tnches.
Although they all look alike, as an
audience usually does, each bird makes a
different note, and l suppose, therefore,
each little heart feels different song.
| although they are one family, one race. "
We were in the tiny theater where
Clara Morris is remodeling the manner
of her art, her own room, where she
writes and reads. Strange to say, it is not
peopled with photographs of herself, or
of any of the distinguished men and
women she has known i'm her busy, public
life. Pretty things that are useful on a
woman's toilet table; few books, an
odd picture. cherished for the hand that
painted it, the heart that gave it to her
She sat down by the cracking wood
fire and took up from some mysterious
corner an odd figure of a doll.
Where does this come from?' 1 asked
From the dim pasta little thing OF
rags and tender memories, Mamma made
this silk jacket for her. and-well-she'
| my own dear Olu-IaSnlOHeu Alice Mduue.
"Why Alice Maude?"
II christened her in honor of Princess
Maude, Queen Alexandra's daughter. She
was given to me when | was years old
years old" she added busily straigh-
tening the frock and pinching the jacket
where children expect to see waists in
young ladies.
And you have kept her all this time?"
"Of course; l have an inveterate habit
of treasuring up gifts. My friends are al
ways with me in the treasures they have
given me-"
Her husband came in, and pointing ir-
responsibility to an oil picture of Alice
Maude he had ordered for Clara Morris
he said proudly:
Pretty fine portrait isn't It? Paid S1OC
for that. It's worth--well. never mind, -
and he walked out of the room.
Hes as bad as l am: always sees the
dramatic point first" said Clara Morris
cheerfully.
81 can see that your stories are practi-
cally>life studies" said I, resuming our
chat
Writes when She Feels n Fact.
81 write and can write only when !
feel fact. You know William Winter
persistently stated that l never had any
Imagination. and of course. since hes
a critic he ought TO know"
us Il possible to outline "A characterize
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