Year: 1873

hot even now, after so many years
have passed away, to think what a


fool I made Of myself about that man.


The stage had no interest for me


when he was not upon it; the other
characters had no charms for me; the
other men of the company were mere
sticks in my eyes; the funny man,
who said disagreeable things to my
| hero; the villain, who stood between
! him and the object of his affections 20
happy objectl); the elderly gentle
| man, who so often had to curse him
or to scOTn him, and sometimes kill
him-these I hated; while the lady
who played Juliet to his Romeo, Pau
| line to his Claude, and dozen other
similarly delightful characters, o how
l envied her, and how Jealous was of
her. If could have had her figure
and her nose, and the chance of play
have been [ did not know then
that she was ten years his senior, and
had three three little children and
drinking husband at home; and that
her fine figure was altogether a work
of art, as much as her acting; or else
l should not have envied her so much,
perhaps. But my passion grew as the
season went on; and when the mana
ger announced toward the end OF the
month that in consequence of the
great success of the company the sea-
son would be prolonged another fort
night, no words could express my joy;
it was a respite from misery; for that,
it seemed to me, my life would be af-
ter he, the leading gentleman, was
gone away. phcn-uncxPcCtCd hap
piness-I saw him off the stage, once
in a shop, twice passing our house for
a walk into the country. The last
time [ cried out to my mother,
''There's Mr.. Fawsettw so loudly that
he heard me, and, turning, gave me
half-smiling bow. On that bow /
lived for days. If any one who reads
this has ever been in my state of mind
lat my age, too, remember) then they
can realize what felt; if they never
have been wildly in love with an ac-
tor, then they can't understand my
condition, and its not much use in
trying to explain it.


The fortnight, like every other
time of happiness, drew toward an
end. By cOaxing and persuading l
had managed to get to the theater
nearly every night that last week,
and felt growing desperate when [
heard announced one of my favorite
plays for the last night of the season,
and for the benefit of Mr.. Fawsett.
IfOnJy could have Joined the COM
pany then and there, I would have
done it-anything, so as to be near
my idol; to stand as a page beside
him, to have him speak to me rough
ly or kindly, anyhow would do; and
then, perhaps, as 1 grew taller and
older, to play the lady to his lover.
Why, the very thought turned my
head, and I resolved that he should
not leave the town without a knowl-
edge of my devoted admiration for
him.


I knew the play for that Friday
night so well-in one scene he want
ed bouquet to present to q lady.
That bouquet was resolved to pur-
chase, but was puzzled how to do so
without any else knowing about it.
However, 1 cOntrived to obtain differ
ent flowers from different places, and
arranged them myself very fairly;
and then-ohi goose that l was!-I
went to a jewelers. and expended
every farthing that I was worth in
the purchase of some studs that were
to go with the flowers. How 1
trembled for fear the man who wait
ed for me should guess for whom l
meant them; how blushed when he
suggested-he knew all our family,
for we always dealt at his shOp-that
'ff they were for Mr.. Fred, he liked
turquoise BEST" how I bought them,
and went away absolutely burdened
with the fear that my secret should be
discovered; how ], in my intense fool
ishness, wrote letter in my inform
ed girlish hand, the remembrance of
which makes me halflaugh and half
cry even now. Fortunately, the
whole proceeding was like myself,
childish for my age; still, I will con-
fess that, if the man to whom l sent
the precious packet-the note signed
with my full name and address-had
not been upright and honorable, the
affair might have had different end
ing altogether. As it was, having dis
patched a box containing flowers,
studs, and note by safe hand to Mr..
Fawsett's lodgings, sat down to wait
for Z o'clock, trembling with excite
ment and anticipation. The worst
part of the business was, that Of
course I told my mother nothing of
what had done; and l felt so guilty
when she kindly noticed my unusual
quietness that / had to run away
from the tea-table and have q good
cry before / began to dress. Fred had
come home the day before; but even
to him, my usual cOnfidant, had told
nothing. He was to take me to the
| theater, so that we could have one
evening there together; but 1 could
not respond to his Jokes and anticipa-
| tions, being far too nervous and excit-
ed to think of anything but my stage
hero and his reception of my present.
With thrObbing heart l took my
place in the familiar box, and watch
ed the house fill for the benefit of the
| favOrite. There was a capital audi
ence, but, as is always the case with
full house in the country, the occu-
pants of the gallery made a great
clamor, calling to their friends in the
pit, joking with the people in the
upper boxes, saluting the arrival of
any well-knOwn tOwnsman in the
lower tier, and finally, as Z o'clock ap-
preached, and they grew impatient,
| calling and WhlStllng Tor the curtain
to draw up. At length the play began
and through two hours or more he
was there before me, playing with all
the spirit a good house infuses into an
actor and for the last evening /
watched the triumph of my first love.
The fiOwers-Hy fiOwers-he held in


his hand, and as he gave them to the


lady by his side, he distinctly was


certain of it-most distinctly lifted


his eyes to No. 4, where I sat. The


glance was mOmentary, but il set my


pulses thrObbing, and of what follow


ed Of burlesque or farce 1 remember


nothing. At the end of the play a


special call was raised for him, and,


as he walked before the curtain hold


ing the heroine of the piece by the


hand, felt that life would be q bur-


den rather than otherwise to me, un-


less 1 might hope some day so to walk