"All actors are not like him, however. Raw actors are the prompter's horror. The debutante is another. She will forget every line the moment she strikes the stage, and be so nervous, moreover, that she will not be able to repeat those the prompter reads to her. I remember one young lady who thought she had a mission to play Juliet. She made her appearance, supported by a country company, and lost every line, as usual. We prompted her through her first scene, somehow. When the balcony scene was on, her mother stood on the ladder behind her, reading her speeches word for word, which she repeated after her. But the old lady was a heavy weight, and the step-ladder was no longer in the flower of youth; so, in the middle of the farewell, it gave way. The old lady was tumbled forward against the ricketty staging of the balcony, and it fell against the set piece that masked it in from the audience. So Juliet, mother, balcony, and all toppled down on Romeo, and by the time he was taken from the wreck he was as mournful a lover as the play makes him out to be."
AN ACTRESS' USEFUL HUSBAND.
Looking around among the players again we find a fairy leaning up against some object with her lithe limbs crossed, and she putting in the spare time allowed her in doing crochet or some kindred work. Perhaps she is knitting a purse for some distant lover, or maybe it is a tiny pair of socks for the little baby that is waiting for her at home. For many of these youthful, charming, and heart-breaking fairies and fair burlesquers are married, and frequently their husbands are in the same company. A story is told of a well-known and popular actress who brings her husband with her to the theatre every night, and while the old man—a dear, innocent and uncomplaining old fellow sits in the side scenes nursing baby with a bottle, on one knee, and holding an English pug on the other, while the mother is out before the admiring public throwing her arms about some strange Romeo, and clinging to him with all the warmth and affection of the fair Juliet's young love.
MAKING LOVE IN THE SIDE-SCENES.
The story is told of a New York fireman, who made real love, and too much of it, on the stage. According to the rules of the fire department there, a member of the department is kept on duty at every performance in the theatres. While there he has nothing to do except respond to any call of fire, and give his valuable services in suppressing it. But it is very seldom that his services are called into requisition, and consequently the position at the theatre is much sought after by the gallant fire laddies. As a rule, the members of the department are a fine body of men, but those detailed at the theatres are very fine-looking and consequently very popular with the actresses at the theatres. The natural result is that the fireman soon has a "mash," and having unrestricted liberties perambulates through the building without hindrance. Becoming well acquainted with the nooks and corners he is enabled to snatch a few moments' sweet converse with the object of his affections, and in a place where they can commune with one another uninfluenced by the presence of anyone. But recently the regular disappearance of the fireman of a certain theatre at a stated time became the subject of comment among the attaches, and another female admirer of the gallant fireman, actuated possibly by jealous motives, watched him receding from view and followed his footsteps silently. In an unfrequented nook among the ruins of ancient mountains, pillars and broad fields—on canvas—stood the object of her disappointed affections, embracing the fair form of her rival and giving vent to the pent-up feelings of his heart, while she, coy, and dove-like, stood, blushingly receiving the compliments which were being showered upon her. This was too much for the slighted fair one, and the place that knew the loving hearts for many evenings is now vacant and ready for the occupancy of another loving couple.
Another fire lad of the same department thought he smelt fire one night just before the performance began. He pried around through every nook and corner in the fulfilment of his duty, and at last was satisfied that he had found the place. He was not sufficiently well posted to know that he had located the incipient blaze in one of the ladies' dressing-rooms. So in he popped without giving any warning. The girls were dressing for the ballet and already one of them was in condition to get into her symmetricals. Imagine the consternation of the girls at sight of the apparition in blue clothes, cap, and brass buttons. They hastily got behind towels and other articles within reach and set up a screech that came near creating a panic among the audience. The fire boy did not wait to find the origin of the smoke, and it took all the persuasive powers of the manager and company to keep the girls from swearing out warrants for burglary or something of that kind against the luckless laddie.
M'LLE GERALDINE AND LITTLE GERRY.