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title: 'The San Francisco call. (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, September 13, 1903, Page 50, Image 50',
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In the discussion of the proposition of
Mr. Chamberlain, the Secretary for the-
Colonies, to establish preferential tariffs
between Great Britain and her dependen
cies it was stated that Great Britain's
trade with her* colonies was only one
fourth as much as with other countries.
An annual report of the Admiralty. Just
issued, shows trade with colonies £237,
098,000, and with other countries £711,-
Working of Preferential 3.
Many Chinese frequent Philippine mar
kets and are good patrons, as many have
restaurants and need large supplies. They
drive as keen a bargain as a*Fillpino him
self. He usually buys a number of eggs
and always carries with him to market a
small tin pall full of water to te3t their
usefulness! If the egg falls to the bottom
of the pall it is good; If It rises to the top
it is bad and Is refused, only to be care
fully wiped off by the vender and put
back In stock to catch a customer with
out a pall.
Chinese Judgment of Eggs.
South Africa ia the place for Shake
I could not have been more astonished
had Mrs. Crawley mentioned Milpitas as
an art center, but managed to maintain a
conventional surprise in my "South Af
"Indeed, yes," Mrs., Crawley Insisted,'
with complimentary ~ emphasis. "Why,
they will ride a hundred miles In a bul
lock wagon to see a Shakespearean per
"Think of that for devotion to art! You
were there long?"
"Quite a long time, in the Henry Irving
repertoire. We were the first -company
allowed in Pretoria after, they war and
were in Bloemfont;ein when peace was
declared. But you must not persuade me
to talk of Africa, I shall never stop,"
laughing richly and jingling her barbaric
gold chain, .heavy with tiny ; powder
llasks, soldier buttons and other war tro
"I am very willing," ,'T said.
"Well," she began, her eyes becoming
deep pools of enthusiasm, "how I wish I
could make you see it, that wonderful,
immense weirdness, Africa! It is tremen
dously beautiful.' When they say to me
in Italy, 'Isn't this lovely?' I want to
say, 'But you should see -Natal!' ; The
great arid stretches of the 'cursed lands,'
the fields of arum lilies, the weird trees
like witches turned -into trees,, crouching
and looming.. The hills are of ; the
strangest, softest purple, and at every
turn you 6ee. the mirage. You know; the
Burne-Jones landscape, queer, old, half
enchanted ? 'There » was . his \ country/ I
said when I saw Africa."
"You paint," I challenged her.
"A little, only a very, very little. V
"Oh, yes; I remember! It was in "The
Dancing Girl,' a great big part and a
wonderful cact." '"Lira. Crawley roundly
says "cahst" and "dahncing." ; "It was
in London, too."
"And you have done much Shakespeare
—you will be the Viola in the 'Twelfth
Night' at Berkeley?" /
"Yes, to both questions," she answered,
"though my first three years were in lit
tle society plays. They were lovely years,
happy and; content,, but I really ought to
have been . slaving . away at- the big
things," she ?. laughed. "I • have played
Juliet and Katharine' quite frequently.
"How did you come to the' theater?"
"Mr. Tree thought I had a. face," she
quaintly put it. .
•'He saw you in private theatricals?"
"No; just saw me."
"Your first effort— you doubtless-;remem
"Mr. Sttevens at the Tlvoll yonder would
have it that everything was taught her."
Mrs. Crawley's eyes blazed incredu
lously as she said: "That's absolutely im
possible. Why," she put it, "it would be
Mrs. Pat's natural Inclination If one said
'do this' to do the other thing. ' Genius
always 'rouses antagonism, you know.
Her wonderful ways are not their ordi
nary ways, and some people can't forgive
her her originality."
"We eeem unable to keep to Mrs. Craw
ley as a subject," I discovered. "Tell me,
you were not born to the stage?"- though
I did not need to ask.
"No; my people are all church and
army persons," Mrs. Crawley replied.
roman I ever saw who could turn white
n the stage. I don't know how she does
VAnd doubtless play?"
"Not at all."
"Then you certainly write?"
"A little, again," less diffidently. "One
can't help that, you know."
"Yes, madam," humbly. "Do you?"
"Not guilty— but we'll return to Africa,"
I decided. "How did you find the peo
"Absolutely the most Interesting I have
ever met," she . asserted unhesitatingly.
"The men from up-country, who have
lived in those strange solitudes, seem to
find thoughts there as big and huge as
"Did you meet Rhodes?"
"No. I met Mr. Kruger."
"Not at all; too unfriendly— bews this
way to you"— executing a stiff, Boer sa
lute that would have made even Kruger
Chuckle. "But everybody goes to Africa
now, painters and all sorts of people,"
she went- on. "I should like myself to
play six months of the year in Pieter
"Well, well." :. ,
"The social life"— was she going to de
molish my visions of dancing Zulus?—
'.'the social life, too, is most attractive.
You have only to say 'What a night for
a picnic,' and Immediately some one ar
ranges a picnic, and you should see the
African moons! Or one has' only to
think 'what a day for a drive,' and some
one cornea along, with, horses.. But I am
afraid - it is not only the liking for a
little cleverness that makes: people do
things for you . down > there," she laughed
with •¦ frank coquetry. /'There are " about
four hundred men to one woman."'
"Ah. I see why you like Africa!"
MRS CONSTANCE CRAWLEY, THE "EVERYMAN" OP THE MORALITY PLAY, WHOSE RARE HISTRIONIC
TALENT AND PERSONAL BEAUTY HAVE CHARMED THEATER-GOERS WHO HAVE SEEN THE PRO
DUCTION AND WHOSE RESEMBLANCE TO MRS. PATRICK CAMPBELL IS REMARKABLE.
"You think her very great?"
"The greatest actress, in England. You
know after her performances when you
go home there are the men actually fight
ing on the cars about her. They always
like or dislike her violently. There's no
neutrality— which is fame, I suppose. Oh,
ehe's tremendously clever. The only
"But this is ungrateful," I owned, "the
production is so extraordinarily Impres
sive and harmonious, so wonderfully rev
erent. It seems to me that only one
member of the cast could ever have been
within miles of a rouge pot. I uave won
dered, Mrs. Crawley, whether you felt
the strain of being on the stage so con
"A little," she owned. "You see I am
there only for a few moments throughout
the whole performance. Must you go?"
this to Mr. Crawley, who had risen to his
"It will leave you freer to talk," the
actor said. }¦¦ •[;:
Mrs. Crawley looked charmingly as if
she did not want to be left any freer, and
I ventured to say: "But you also ar© in
His "Really, no!" only left me more de
termined, for it is not everyday one meets
Death, and really one could hardly have
hoped to find him a person of such charm
He bade us good -by, however, and I
asked Mrs. Crawley what had preceded
Death in her husband's repertoire.
"Sherlock Holmes," ehe smiled.
"Sherlock himself, of course?" He looks
"And what has Miss Constance Crawley
"Most lately Roma In 'The Eternal
"You like the part?"
"Oh, yes, very wen," in her deep, full
blooded tones. "It is a baby 'La Tosca."
"Miss Viola Allen did not like the part."
"And changed it completely, I under
stand. I cannot imagine ' how it was
"You like 'La Tosca," I know from
"That— I'm almost afraid to say It— is
my greatest ambition, to play 'La Tosca.'
I keep on hoping that Mrs. Pat won't play
it first!" Her, eye traveled to the mantel
piece, whereon I immediately discerned
Mrs. Campbell's subtle profile.
aloofness, and I think somewhat detracts
from the novelty and impresslveness of
"I think I rather agree," Mr. Crawley
A member of the "Florodora" company
tells the following funny story that hap
pened during the last season's tour? "We
were playing in Indianapolis, and the per
formance was frequently interrupted bv
Frank Daniels, who fell off his very
tame famHy horse. "Ttng-a-Llng" (so
named from previous connection with a
New York crosstown car service), the day
he signed with Charles B. Dillingham to
present a new opera, "The Jockey," and
who had to close this season prematurely
on account of the accident, is himself
again, but slightly "horse-shy," a fact
that is particularly apparent at rehearsals
now in progress in which a steed named
"Greased Lightning" figures in a scene
with Mr. Daniels "up." At first the horse
was as full of ginger as an electric Jar,
but he Is getting sadder every, day. It is
suspected that he ia being surreptitious
ly drugged by the comedian.
She has conceived a fiendish dislike to
Dick, fills his glass when he has taken
to drink and In a moment of ungovern
able rage destroys his picture. His doom
reaches him. The light fails. He Is blind.
Malsie icnows not of this. She Is living
away in her cottage at Vltry-sur-Marne
when Torpenhow takes her the news.
She returns to England, visits Dick In
his studio, is repelled by him. for He will
have no union of pity, but eventually
her tenderness and love prevail, and with
a pathetic and touching little final scene
the play comes to a triumphant 'conclu
the "specials," who hurry off to witness
the engagement. Unable to withstand the
temptation to join them, Dick tears ' off
the bandage. The curtain descends on
his dearly bought temporary power of
The Test of the story, told In three acts
and four scenes, could be told "In half a
dozen lines. Heldar loves Maisle, but she
refuses his offer of marriage and deter
mines to win . fame as an artist on her
own account. Dick worships her. They
are driven to a sort of trial of artistic
strength. She will paint a "Melancholia."
rather than marry Dick, and he will paint
one against her.
The minor Incidents that lead to this
dual essay make much for the strength
and interest of the play. Dick succors
a poor slattern of a girl, Bessie Broko.
a cockney of an unregenerate type, dying
of starvation, and this creature becomes
his model. She is an evil little person,
yet with something of "woman" in her
nature. She cleaves to Torpenhow, and
Dick, to save him from her, dismisses her.
Mr. Aubrey Smith's Torpenhow, a
strong character sympathetically realized,
is one of the features of the prologue,
in which of course, Mr. .Robertson's fine
impersonation of Dick Heldar occupies
a prominent place, rounds of firing rouse
In the camp scene of the prologue Dick
Heldar, who has a saber cut across the
eyes, and who frets under his blinding
bandage, is the objecf of a general kindly
solicitude, his friend Torpenhow especial
ly-constituting himself his nurse. Maisle
Is spoken of, for the artists know the
lady, who is a hard working student of
their art, and tho author is informed in
a charmingly' natural way that Dick is
The oft-repeated prediction th*t «he> «£
of the book-play Is ended is hardly borne
out by the really . wonderful success in
London of Constance Fletcher'sdramatic
version of Rudyard Kipling's "The Light
That Failed." which Forbes Robertson
and Gertrude Elliott will present in this
country this season under the direction
of Klaw & Erlanger, openlnr to Buffalo
Constance Fletcher, who write* unfler
tho pen name of "George Fleming." has,
in the opinion of London critics, adapted
"Tho Light That Failed" to the stage
with notable skill and dramatic power.
The prologue and the three acts are
brought together deftly, character in
each Instance is graphically portrayed
and interest in the touching story is
maintained without abatement to the
very end. . ¦ r £«¦
Without apparently striving for it there
is a delightful atmosphere of reality
about the entire piece, while the dialogue,
being in the main Rudyard Kipling's
own. is refreshingly virile. An old Royal
Academy student and a painter and ex
hibitor at the Royal Academy, Mr. Kob
ertson is just the man to sustain the pa»t
of Dick Heldar. Author and adapter were
alike fortunate in securing the alliance of
Plays and the Players.
"I shouldn't have thought so by 99,973
years," I laughingly appraise her. "But
may we not return to 'Everyman 1 ? It so
f urprlsed me to learn that you have only
now essayed the role, Mrs. Crawley.".
"I am only now beginning to feel its
possibilities," she returned simply.
"What do y°u think the effect on the
"Is it a family trait?" I asked.'
"Ghost eeclng? Oh no," she laughed.
"And I don't want to meet one, do you?
There are too many interesting people to" 1
meet. Still I have had rather odd ex
periences. The sense of having been be
fore In come of the Roman streets, ages
and ages ago, for example, was almost
overwhelming. I'm not a bit modern,
sometimes I feel as If I were a hundred
thousand years old!"
Mrs. Crawley unexpectedly subscribed:
"My sister is in one ot them. Three
times" — with her .voice lowered mystic
ally and a sphinx-like finger up-pointed—
"phe has seen a ghost.""
"Yes," his wife replied with sympa
thetic amusement for her husband's anx
iety. Had the prophecy concerned Mr.
Crav.ley she would evidently have been
less equable. "By the way," ehe contin
ued, "what a lot of that kind of thing
there is here, teacup people, spiritualists,
'psycho'— all sorts of things."
"We should give them ten shillings and
ccEts in England," this from Mr. Craw
"Yet," I protest, "look at your Psych
ical Research Society, with its volumes
and volumes of nightmare stories, in Lon
"You dreadful person!" I laughed, then
said: "I don't quite get the significance of
the fur collar In your present — er — quite
sufficiently awful, Mr. Crawley—make
" 'Where, moth and rust do corrupt,'
you know. It is moth-eaten," he replied
simply. "The costume is much like Hol
bein's Death, of course."
"Isn't it odd," Mrs. Crawley eald, lean-
Ing forward with her luminous smile,
"that twice the fortune-tellers told me not
to come to America, that Death would be
near me all the time. It must have been
you," and she looked over with teasing
tenderness at the enviable Mr. Crawley.
"There's nothing in It," that gentleman
exclaimed hastily. There was naive re
lief, too, in his tone a» he said: "You
cald it was a fortune-teller, not a clair
"Well, I wanted to draw the whole skel
eton," the mimic Death said cheerfully,
"and then wear a floating, ashen cloak
that would give shadowy glimpses of it.
It could be done quite easily," and Mr.
Crawley grimly picked out a rib or two
with a thin finger.
He was interested, keenly interested,
curiously interested. I looked at him
rather wonderfngly. then suddenly
thought: "It could not be possible that— ''
gasping aloud: "But you're not—" \
"Yei, I am," the actor smiled. It was
Death himself who had brought me to
Mrs. Crawley. ¦whose lean handsomeness
was now smiling at me. Like the other
weak-wltted females I couli not down
a little shiver at the memory of his make
up. Then he appealed gruesomely. to
Mrs. Crawley: "I couldn't use the other
She nodded a thoughtful "no," and I
asked: "That is—"
"Everybody says the same thing," Mrs.
Crawley said, with a radiantly good-na
tured patience of my plagiarism, per
haps also a little enjoyment! Her re
semblance to Mrs. Campbell Is Indeed
mest marked. The chin Is IJonger— the
face has the Georges Sand, the George
Eliot length — and the eyes are rounder,
but these are as nothing compared with
the resemblance. She is somberly haired
like Mrs. Campbell, the black, nltent
waves curving from a face as warmly
white as Mrs. Pat's own. The eyes are of
the same proud brown, but without the
shadowed deeps of the Campbell orbs.
They have, too, the same wide, gracious,,
wondering gaze on occasion and the
eame trick of turning blue on the stage.
Her lips, as finely scarlet, catch the
Campbell melancholy in their delicately
drooping corners, and open — more fre
quently — on teeth as pretty.
And again there Is the characteristic
walk, the same miracle of movement
without a suggestion of its machinery.
Mrs. Crawley has, too, the Campbell
genius for lounging, and as she leaned
back among her cushions in her white,
thin, silken waist, that left the neck bare
and hung in careless clouds from the
arms, I could easily imagine Mrs. Pat be
fore me. Not for lonr, however, for
where Mrs. Campbell Is the "Weltschmerz
Incarnate Mrs. Crawley is the spirit of
"The voice, too." I murmured, as the
actress— singularly inapt the term seems
In the connection— replied in her N warm,
There was talk then, and more later of
Mrs. Campbell, and then I asked If there
had been any more fragilely minded wo
men frightened by Death at the "Every
"Why, have there been some women
frightened by Death?" Mr. Crawley
asked, much interested.
"Four that I know of," I replied.
/'Really." Mr. Crawley exclaimed.
My handy query, "Mr. Crawley, I be
liever* met with courteous assent and
he informed us that "Mrs. Crawley"
would b« ready to see us in a moment.
Which was not so wonderful as what
1 did not discover perdie. as Everyman
The lady, accustomed to the miracles
of lightning changes in costume, kept us
not long. She cwam In, bringing a clear,
delicate perfume of soap and water, with
which ehe had been removing the "dust
of rehearsal," as she laughingly inform
ed us, putting up her long, slender hands.
"But you are like Mrs. Pat," I stupidly
began. "They all told me so— my devoted
family who have been among your most
devout congregations. I couldn't see It.
Now I wonder how I missed the like
IT was unpardonable, Lut for the sec
ond time I had teen "Everyman,"
and after the ix'rforrr.nnce had beg-
C-ed Ben Greet to ansr.ge an Interview
for me with the charters woman who
B&tneletsly plays the name role.
"You see we — she— really wish to pre
serve the Incognito," the manager de
murred, Elizabethan Stripe Society eti
quette informing every shade of his ges
ture, tone and expression.
"But I don't care about the name," I
A pause then.
Then, after another spasm of artistic
and Elizabethan unwillingness, the man
ager turned to a reighboring satellite and
"Where do the Crawleys etay?"
"Aha!" I laughed. "I know now. Where
do the CRAWLEYS stay, Mr. Greet T
He looked amusingly reproachful for
a moment, then handsomely furnished me
with the Crawleys' address and the
promise of an appointment.
I had the grace not to ask who "they"
were. It waa, however, a man, a quietly
courteous person, who met me at tha
hotel office the succeeding day.
Rose Coghlan will play the role of
Penelope in "Ulysses," when Stephen
Phillip's greatest work is represented at
tha Garden Theater.
Mrs. Fiske, who is rehearsing at th»
Manhattan Theater every day, ha3 seen
••The Earl of Pawtucket" four times
since she returned to New York. She
says that the clean, delicate humor of
the comedy appeals to her and declared
a day or two ago that she would enjoy
playing Harriet Fordyce, If she were not
so engaced with her own work.
"The Bonnie BrleT Bush" goes out this
season with the same company that has
been presenting this charming Idyl for
several seasons. There are one or two
minor changes, but they are so unimport
ant that the cast may be virtually con
sidered the same. Of course, J. H. Stod
dart continues as Lachlan Campbell. Ha
has made that character a classic.
Miss Jean Lane Brooks, the young
American dramatic soprano, arrived from
abroad last week on the Kaiser Wllhelm
der Grosse. Miss Brooks, who returns
to this country to Join Henry W. Sav
age's English Grand Opera Company, is
a daughter of the late General Edward
J. Brooks of the United States army. Miss
Brook3 received her musical education
under Julian! In Paris. She will maka
her debut with Henry W. Savage's Eng
lish Grand Opera Company in Brooklyn
late in September.
A concert In which fiddlers will be In
terested Is that of little Katherine Par
low, who is little no longer, by the way.
but tops her mother by at least an Inch
of that Beethoven brow of hers. M!3S
Kathleen gives a recital on Thursday
evening next and will doubtless have
something good to show for the honest
and earnest work she has lately been do
ing with Mr. Holmes at her elbow. This
young: girt Is perhaps the most promising
violin student of her age among the local
budding Nerudaa, -and the proceeds of th»
recitals are to help to send her to Europe.
Those who are familiar with Kathleen's
work through the Holmes chamber music
concerts will doubtless welcome this Dp
portunity to aid youthful genius.
Perhaps the greatest modern sym
phonlst, in Johannes Brahms, will be rep
resented on next Tuesday's symphony
programme. Since Mr. Scheel went to
Philadelphia it Is- said that that city has
become a Brahms stronghold. The con
ductor acknowledges to having done his
best that way, and the critics have said
that the works were interpreted in most
loving and luminous fashion. But Mr.
Scheel's Brahms is not new here, but
more eminently welcome to-day than
when he last played it for us. The sym
phony is the second, with its lovely inter
mezzo, richly fashioned adagio and a
finale as fine as any movement in modern
orchestral literature. Some "Parsifal"
excerpts are also programmed, and
the Mendelssohn "Midsummer x Night's
Dream" is another number.
the crying of a child In the gallery. It
finally became quite annoying and our
comedian stepped to the footlights and
exclaimed in tragic tones: 'Ladies and
gentlemen, unless the play is stopped tha
"child cannot possibly go on.' This mada
one of the hits of the evening and even
the child seemed to take Its cue and
stopped crying instantly."
Miss Dcglow, a pupil of Mr. Stelndorff'8,
has made a pleasing debut this season.
She has a fine mezzo-contralto poise and
a pleasant personality. I hear very nice
things of »her Marta that at writing I
have not heard. Other "Faust" echoes
are that Dado this year excels himself a3
Mephlsto, that Agostlni does Faust ad
mirably and De Spada's sure vocalism 13
welcome in the Marguerite role.
"La Sonnambula" and "II Trovatore"
are this week's bills.
THE week's opera has brought
us a new Rlgoletto and a new
Gllda, In the persons of Signer
Gregoretti and Signorina Trrm
ben. Further hearing of Greg
oretti only justifies one's first
pleasure in his work, In the fine, sympa
thetic voice, its artistic us© and la his
conspicuously intelligent acting. Ha mr>st
gratefully refrains from the bellowed hlsh
note, which is among the radical vices of
the Latin singers. Altogether his work is
notably free from exaggeration and never
monotonous. One needs no "opera book;'
—as the Tlvoli's small boys have it— to
understand Gregoretti. Ills acting leaves
the words only lightly necessary, and hit
vocal sympathy gives yet another key to
the story. The RIgoletto of Scottl was
no better. Nor as sympathetic Next
week, as the Count dl Luna in "II Trova
tore," Signor Gregoretti will have oppor
tunity to exhibit more largely his remark
able flexibility of voice. I don't remember
a good Count di Luna at the Tlvoll, not
even Salassa, who sang it sulkily because
he didn't like it. \
The little Tromben is a frail and fiery
little person whose vocal volume hardly
clothes her strong dramatic impulses.
The voice is fascinating,' pure as a fluta
in its best notes, going up aloft with ut
most ease and fluent in execution. But
her fortes frequently degenerate into a
mere scream, and the "Venetian nightin
gale" must be more tender of her delicate
throat or she will not be long able to
sing at all. Like most of this year's sing
era, she impresses one as being very com
fortably sure of her parts.
The "boy wonder," Alfredo Tedeschl— a
and married, De Spada whispered me— is
an attractive singer. His voice Is a true
tenor, quite light, but used with grateful
ease and modesty. Like Gregoretti, he es
chews the rubber high note, and if ho
keeps to his present policy of quiet artis
try Master Tedeschl may some day sinff
very well indeed. He has a nice littld act
WITH THE PLAYERS AND THE MUSIC FOLK
"In the Santa Clara passion play they
represent the Christ very effectively by
a light," I recalled.
"Apropos, I wonder why we have Botti
celli angels in 'Everyman' with the rest
of the costumes Dutch?" Mrs. Crawley
"I don't mind the anachronism in cos
tume, but their wigs distress me," I tes
tified, "though, you know, the occasional
crudity, awkwardness, seems only to add
to the archaic quality of the thing and
with Mr. Greet's kind of manager is. un
"Of that I am sure," Mrs. Crawley said;
"he is the most wonderful person, you
"Still, there were features of the Berke
ley performance I liked better than the
local one, the players making their exits
at the front of the hall instead of through
the audience for example. But one must
own it is managed with notable dignity.
Yet It brushed off some of the necessary
"Doesn't eound come from where you
Imagine it?" Mrs. Crawley queried. "But
we should have to use a little balloon to
get it above and In the center at Lyric
"And," Mr. Crawley thoughtfully inter
rupted, "one hardly wants Everyman to
look attractive there. To me the figure
is artistic in its pathetic ugliness, all
worldly beauty forgotten, you know.
Then how does the introduction of the
Diety strike you?"
"As no more Irreverent than- a stained
glass window," I t'-stifled. "He was too
much like Wotan, however. I think you
were wise, to omit the personification,
though. It is better simply for the voice
to be heard, as you now have It. I feel
it should come from above, in the center,
and not from the side."
"Ah, we've tried to obviate that in sev
eral ways," the Everyman replied. "But
there is even now a little shiver— don't
you feel it?— when the coat of worldliness
slips to the waist. I couldn't take it off
"It seems to me inartistic— from the
objective side— when in putting on the
ccat of penance you leave on the other
coat, beneajh. The lines trouble one."
actress of much playing of such a part
"I am much interested to know. 1
should think," thoughtfully, "that on'e
saying those tremendous prayers every
night could not be very wicked.' But" —
her face lighted drolly— "Mrs. Beerbohm
Tree has often told me that when Mr.
Tree was playing saintly roles his tem
per was appalling off the stage! Also
that he was perfectly charming in every
day life when he played the villains!"
"May I suggest something?" .
"No," she tossed her head gracefully.
"I find women much more interesting—
In masses— than men."
-••How are the Africans as audlences7
"Most friendly. By, the way. how won
derfully quiet the African audiences are
Not even a British audience keeps quite
80 still. You give us not even one tiny
hand," and our Everyman looked a shade
Pl »£htt I- Mr. Great's, fault he barred
applause." I said. "And I like it that
way don't you?" ,
She owned she did In the case of
-Everyman." then said how uncomfort
ably sensitive she was to her audiences
••If there is a corner of the- room that
is irresponsive I feel it all over. I re
member a man who sat In front at one
of our. productions. That man
me' I told my husband. He laughed of
course. But I found afterward that the
man actually did dislike me .He doesn t
now" and Mrs. Crawley smiled "^"i
°l' suppose I must let you go now, I
said, unwillingly. Africa again.
"Well, come and tallc Arnca »5*i".
won't your' she smiled.
THIS SAK -IfKASrCISCb CAtli, SUNDAY, SEFTEMJ5EK 13. 1903.