The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1906-07-28
THE ACTOR AND
THE SMART SET
By w. N. MAXWELL
(Copyrighs. By Joseph D. Bowles.)

God bless you, my little lad" his
| father, the tragedian, had said, one
night, land make a good actor Of
YOU"
"Oh, sure!" said his faded mother,
the ex-columbine, STOPPING to pick the
steak from the little stove. Sure, it's
in the blood"
mo, wife," said papa, In booming
tones: sit is In the brain and in the
heart" and he tapped his forehead and
placed his hand upon his chest with a
| grand gesture. Il attribute large
measure of my success in life to always
coming straight home to supper. Be-
ware of the smart set who would be
amused. Society is slow poison to our
art. l made my rigid rule when a
STRIPPING, and have adhered to 1t till
brown locks are silyered. Don't ac-
cept their invitations-or their fiattery.
Be the host, not the guest. entertain,
or so endeavor, every night at eight.
I do not care to be entertained when
my party breaks up. My friends. II l
have any, can always see me-by pay
ing at the door. But to your pillow,
my young fellow"
Now, a troupe of theatrical fairies,
flying over the town that very night,
came down the chimney of the humble
lodging house and left for the sleeping
child all their richest gifts. They gave
him a fine voice, keen observation,
sympathy and intuition. They gave
him the gift OF laughter and the gift
of tears; and then flew of without
waking him.
He grew up, became good actor,
and soon began to draw big money"
1.-THE Dads" voice had ceased to boom,
and Nuns had danced her last dance
with Death for her harlequin.
He owned a theater himself. As he
said, in confidence to a journalistic
friend, he very soon could not keep the
money out.
He now only wanted leading lady
in his tbeater and in his life also
for all to be WE'LL some one to act the
adventures in the spangleG frock on
the boards, when she was working;
and to play the wife at homs, when
she was resting. But before he found
her he had received his first invitation
from the smart set. One Sunday night,
he found himself at glittering board,
surrounded by lords and ladies and fine
personages. Their faces glowed like
the dull gold plate on the sideboard;
their eyes shone like the cut-glass; but
their conversation did not sparkle like
the eifervescing wine. They were wait
ing for him to amuse them.
"Affable party of deadheads as ever
I've met!" he said to himself, and was
somber and morose-till the saddle of
mutton. Then he began to tell an an
ecdote to the lady by his side, and the
whole room fell more silent, hanging
on his words. The voice which the
fairies had given him had tones of the
grave double-bass and the laughing
bassoon, and rang clear and true, like
fine old bell ,--setting the Bohemian
glasses tinkling in sympathy as he re-
lated how the fuddled old supe said.
Stand back and let the parson cough!"
How that anecdote went! 1t was i'm
possible not to be pleased. The buffers
all hid their faces; one footman stood
paralyzed, with the asparagus protrud-
ed between countess and a cabinet
minister; another forgot the beans, a
third carried the tomatoes out into the
pantry and frankly exploded with
them.
The other guests chirruped like
happy birds. After his trained bull
below, their weak bleatings struck
chill on the ear and the glasses ceased
to throb. Ripping! l shall die of
Iaughing! What was it? Didn't quite
catch the point, but the delicious
mimicry!" and so forth.
The ladies refused to go to the draw
ing room until they had compelled him
to give the Parsons cough just ones
more. "It's a privilege" said a lord,
offering his shaking hand, 'to meet
great artist thus" and the poor old
chap meant it.
On the following night he went from
his theater to hear a little music in
ducal mansion, and when in the
small hours, he reached his rooms. ne
gave the supper waiting for him to the
landlords cat.
Now at the Actors club the old
barbarians saw at glance that the
man was poisoned. The poison came
out in his talk. He was full of it.
Business, dear boy, business!" he
called 1t, knowingly.
bad business" said the savages.
He bought white waistcoats, ceased
to quote Shakespeare; shook hands
just under his chin, and would say,
Dear lady. remember l have only SO
Sundays. cannot cut myself in
pieces!" Heaven knows where he had
got Dear lady" from; but he always
used it now.
You must know that the fairies
meanwhile had visited the theater and
become SO displeased that they wore
taking their gifts away. For "giy.
thing, and take a thing is good fairies
plaything.''
This fellow" they cried, is simply
slouching through his part He is not |
acting at all. The only true acting he
does is outside. He saves himself for |
that and comes here dog-tired and