oh, Kate! I tell you truly, I would relinquish everything (except my dear ones, of course), rank, fortune, position, all-to be back once more in America, starring' around the country-the same poor little actress I was when you last saw me."

We are

I do not know how to comment on this case. by the Bible forbidden to call our brother a "fool," but there is no Scriptural law that I know of which forbids us to call our sister a little goose.

A LUDICROUS HISTORY.

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CHAPTER XIX.

The True Story of Mr. Alfred Pennyweight.-The Elegant Young Society Beau.-Mr. Pennyweight Demoralized. He is Stage Struck.He Wants to Play Macbeth.-Besieging the Managers.-An Engagement Secured.-Cast for the Bleeding Soldier.—Pennyweight Frightened.-Procuring the Costume.-The Wardrobe Keeper.-The Padmaker Visited. Pennyweight's Legs. The Fearful First Night.— The Curtain Rings Up, and the Play Opens. Pennyweight's Debut. Effect on the Galleries. The Catastrophe. - Good Advice to the Stage-Struck.-The Cure for the Fever.-Ridicule, the Remedy.

A very ludicrous history is that of Mr. Alfred Pennyweight-whom it was my fortune first to meet at Saratoga.

He was a gay young butterfly, and the way he flitted. from flower to flower, was delightful to see.

It was a family trait, however, for Old Pennyweight made his money in flour.

Where was there to be found a gallant young gentleman with cheek more blooming or eye more bright than those of Alfred Pennyweight? He was a gorgeous youth in his attire, and he indulged in lavender kids, and diamond pins, and flowered neckties and curling-irons, in reckless extravagance.

He was addicted to saying "By George," when I first met him, it is true; but after only a little mingling with the aristocratic foreigners who condescend to associate with us in society, he could utter "Bah Jove, ye know," like an Englishman to the jovial gentry born.

He was elegantly slim and genteelly tall, and he kept a man to groom him and to pick his vest pockets of his small change.

As I sat in New York one evening in November, a card was brought in. It bore the name of Alfred Pennyweight.

With the gay young Saratoga beau in my mind, my first thought was the dreadful one that I was in my quilted wrapper, and that I should shock this young gentleman's refined feelings by my inelegance of attire.

But I might have been robed in one of his father's flour-sacks, for all my visitor would have cared. He was stage-struck, and had ceased to be a beau-to become a bore.

He entered the room.

Was it possible that this neglected creature was Alfred Pennyweight? I gazed on him with amazement.

His beard was a week old-his hair was out of curlhis necktie was dirty, and so were his gloves.

MODEST ASPIRATIONS.

173

He came in with the air of a man lost to society-his proud form bowed with the weight of many cares, and his clothing soaked with the November rain.

“Why, Mr. Pennyweight, how wet you are! You came out without your umbrella!"

"Umbrella! What are umbrellas when there is a storm within, against which umbrellas are no protection? It is the fire of genius yearning for utterance-it is the histrionic fire. I burn to go upon the stage."

It took me a long time to get Mr. Pennyweight down from the clouds; but when I did accomplish it, I found that his errand to me was a very practical one. He wished to obtain my assistance to get him a situation at one of our leading theatres.

"But why do you desire to go upon the stage, Mr. Pennyweight? You cannot wish thus to earn a livelihood. If you were a woman—or even if you were a poor man, I might understand it. The channels in which women. can work are few, and obstructed by numberless toilers; but men have the whole field of labor before them, from Wall street speculation down—or up-to boot-blacking.”

But argument was wasted on him. He insisted that he was destined to become a great actor, and that I was the very person to assist him. He was not unreasonable, he said. All he wanted was that I should procure him an engagement at one of our leading theatres, to play Macbeth.

I said that I was absolutely powerless to accomplish such a thing. All I could do would be to introduce him to some of the managers, and he must plead his own case before them.

"When will you do it?"

"Oh, almost any day." "Why not to-day?"

"Very well.

If 'twere done, no doubt 'twere well

'twere done quickly."

174

LONG TIME FOR A LADY TO WAIT.

And so we walked up to Broadway.

I think I never was so talked at in my life as I was by that man on that memorable day. He poured his aspirations into my ears in a perfect flood. He told me how he had steadily refused to enter "trade," but had kept his mind free from the contaminating influences of mere money-getting, to be able at length to proclaim to all the world his devotion to the goddess whom he adored.

"Do you mean Miss Annie Porter?" I asked, abstractedly.

"I mean Melpomone," he replied, in an injured tone. "Oh, excuse me. I heard a rumor, the other day, that you were engaged to be married to Miss Annie Porter." "I am-but she can wait till I am gweat."

What a prospect for the poor girl, thought I.

By this time we had arrived at the door of one of our leading theatres.

"Mr. Ryely in?" I asked of the treasurer at the boxoffice.

"Yes; do you want to see him?"

I gave my card, and that of Mr. Pennyweight, who was now the palest man I ever saw.

The answer was that the manager would see us in a minute.

I think that minute was to poor Pennyweight a period of unspeakable agony. He twitched nervously at the ends of his moustache, twirled his hat in his hands, let his umbrella fall upon the floor, and thus unknowingly went through the stereotyped funny business of a low comedian. in a bashful part.

The manager presently came bustling in-a gentleman. endowed with an ample corporosity, and a little hard of hearing-celebrated, by the way, for his success in getting rid of bores with the aid of a formidable ear-trumpet.