Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1902-12-11
Written for the Register.l
THE DIARY OF A CHORUS GIRL.
BY ODETTE TYLER.

you ever faced the terrible realization
that between you and starvation
slow starvation-there was only FIVE
dollars-ten ffty-cent pieces-twenty
quarters-6ve hundred cents? How
fimsy the bill feels as l take it out of
my bosom. What if it should crum-
BILE away and instead of money should
find thimbleful of ashes? Ough !
Living alone, way up at the top OF
fourth-rate clearinghouse, quite
alone, lying in bed till noon to short
en- the day, not tasting meat for a
week All this is calculated to pro-
duce ideas-queer ideas-there, no
more of this. Come, Margaret; come,
rouse yourself; be stoic-master the
weakness of the flesh. Remember, the
Holidays are here; one week from
tomorrow will be Christmas, Christ
Dear diary, can you imagine spend
ing the day in freezing room, close
to the roof, in an ill-smelling house
where they set the kitchen lamp in
the hall with a smoked chimney that
casts short, sharp shadows upon a once
immaculate wall, now filthy and be-
smirched with the greasy imprint' of
the slavey's thick, fiat thumb?
Outside l can hear the clang of the
eternal electric car, the heavy cart
wheels crunching the snow, the call of
the rag-man, the tinkle OF the scissors
grinder. If press my face close to
the window-pane and crane my neck
to the left, l can just catch glimpse
of the corner of the street. see hum
dreds Of people meet and pas'-hap-
py-faced children, mothers with their
arms full, numbering express wagons
gorged to bursting with gifts. Idont
stand it long. The cold numbs my
flesh. Isigh as turn my back upon
the brightness and face the night-or
is it nightmare?
Oh, the bitterness that crushes out
all my inherited strength and cour-
age just as l reached this part of
my diary yesterday letter was
showed under my door-the address
was typewritten-my hands shook go
l could scarcely tear it open. 1t was
from Mr.. Ostend, manager of the
Thompson Opera Company.
December 49, 1894.
Miss Delmar:
Dear Miss Your name comes
next on our list. Call at tomorrow.
JOSEPH OsTEND,
per J. Warren.
Thank thee, oh, my God
1t was the first voluntary prayer
that had crossed my lips in weeks. l
fell on my knees, my arms extended,
and hugged the iron bedstead in graf
itude. l danced up and down. l
laughed and laughed until the slavey
banged on the door and screamed out
in her delicious brogue: Eyer sound
like yer's a sheep led ter slau ter" l
only laughed the louder. Suddenly
I remembered l must save my voice
they will try it tomorrow. 1 must
keep it fresh.
j: X
Eureka ! they have engaged mel
lead the march. l have to sing but
two lines. Attention The Duke
approachesl" What do l care? l
get eight dollars week-eight whole
dollars. The relief is ecstacy. open
tonight. I must be there early to
meet the wardrobe woman. She has
to fit my costume to me. Mr.. Ostend
said l was to wear wig, but when
he saw my hair down he changed his
mind. l wish he hadn't touched my
head. For some instructive reason
don't like him ; his eyes look snaky.
=
Whewl I'm done up this morning.
The noise and lights, SO many girls
squabbling, dazed me. l dressed in
a room with fifteen others. The room
had one window. Next to me was
pretty, refined little woman with
hair and freckles and
dear little short nose. She loaned me
her mirror, which was cracked down
the middle and made me look cross
eyed. She con6ded to me that her
baby had the Group; she had been sit
ting up four nights. l asked her
where her husband was. She colored
and said apologetically "that he was
out of work" One of the girls broke
in with jeering laugh: What
liarl Work. Why he's on the Is
land for drink" Little heroine. l
offered to go home and share the nurs-