Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1901-09-25
The Daily Short Story
An interrupted Matinee.


1t was o'clock in the afternoon.
On board were several professionals
besides ''our tenor" and they Were
preparing to give US q free matinee,
which turned out to be unique in more
particulars than this one.
The space Immediately in front OF
the pilot house was used for the stage,
and we were ranged along the deck.
the most OF US seated, few from ne
cessity standing. and some lollinS
against the outer railing, where the
wind had fair, clean sweep at them.
And how cold and strong it blew that
August afternoon, and how the ship
rocked The graceful lollers shifted
their positions every now and then to
save themselves from going overheard.
We buttoned our coats tight and turn
ed the collars up as high as possible to
keep from freezing, and to my certain
knowledge three Of the party had to
leave between acts for something to
warm them up-Just as they do on
land.
The curtain rose to the jolliest music
that surely was ever picked from IAN
old banjo" and little dancer stepped
forth and made 4 graceful bow. And
SO we had found out at last-she was
an actress. and she had broken Cliffs
heart 1t happened this way: At the
table opposite ours she sat three times
daily, and Cliff, with his eyes upon
her, had seasoned highly each morsel
we took and each subject we discuss
ed with comments on her beauty and
her clothes! She wore such n fetching
little blouse. with such pretty red cuffs
and big sailor collar and abbreviated
skirts, that she was just the most ire
sistible little bit of bright springtime
maidenhood that n man could find on
land or sea when we first saw her.
But one afternoon she came down
wearing the regulation shirt waist and
a skirt so long that it laid full down
on the floor all around. That day we
ate our dinner in peace, for Cliff, after
one deep, reproachful glance, made an
exchange at table and sat for the ball
ance OF tho trip with his eyes turned
to the unchanging sea!
And now she was Just a little dane
ing girl, nothing more. and we soon
forgot that she had ever been anything
else. Rarely had stage such a dancer
or dancer such a stage! She began
with a slow graceful movement that
grew faster and faster as she went on
and ON till it seemed as if she was run
ming a race with the rocking, dipping
stage and the mad and merry music,
and they each in turn with the sway
ing, dancing girl; then all three togeth-
er, faster and still faster, till suddenly
the music came to an end, the stage
for an instant stood still, and the girl,
with a bow and smile that showed
all her pretty teeth, stepped off and
was instantly reconverted into one of
those small, bright particles that go to
make up the sunshine of the masculine
world.
From comedy to tragedy, stern and
real, we passed with only a breathing
space between. The first solemn notes
were drawn from the mellow strings
of an old violin, and the first words
breathed by n voice so deep and rich
that all things. save the sea, was hush
ed to listen, Rocked In the Cradle of
the Deep"
On no other stage can this song
sound. can it be quite the same. 1
leaned far over the railing and looked
down with 4 wondering, questioning
gaze upon the murmuring waves. What
were they saying? The answer came
in that rich, mellow voice:
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep"
The unspeakable magnetism embod-
led in those waves has surely been felt
by every heart weary, heavy burdened
wanderer from land. Just to drop
overheard. one moments wild agony,