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DITCH'S ADVICE TO PLAYWRIGHTS. Having written plays himself, Clyde Fitch is now generous enough to give advice to those who believe they can write them. "A man should not leave his home in some comfortable, remote corner and come to New York to earn .his living with his pen," he says. "There are too many here already who find it hard enough. But the man who has writ ten a play must come to New York to sell it. It is a tremendous proposition to market a play. There are only a few managers, and they are shy about being seen. The foundling manuscript has to go through the hands of the professional reader at many theaters. "A good plan to pursue is to get ac tors and actresses interested in your plays. They are sensitive to artistic results. But spare the other man. Do not bother people, do not bore them, and don't get discouraged and stop work. I think perhaps the best thing the writer with no experience can do with his play is to give it to an agent. The latter will return it quickly enough if it has not the right material in it, because he or she can't afford to waste time with poor plays." Mr. Fitch was asked if he was given to dramatizing novels. "I don't care much about dramatiz ing another man's ideas, though I have done it," he said. (Perhaps he was thinking of "Sapho.") "I prefer to write about my own people and de scribe my own scene. M-y play usually grows from a germ. Before I sit down to write that germ has become the trunk of a tree, and while I write the branches grow out naturally." PASSING OF GREAT ACTOR. Poor Barrymore! Barry, his friends have always called him, and the term is indicative of his personality. Cheer ful, light-hearted, sunny-tempered, a thorough Bohemian, he has for years been one of the most popular of Ameri can actors. His genius commanded ad miration, but he never did justice to himself. He was quite indifferent as to LILLIAN LUCKY LILLIAN. The most envied woman in the realm of song just now is Madame Lillian Nordica. Her mother died in the city of Mexico February 20, leaving a con siderable fortune which was to go to her children as soon as her missing son, H. B. Ehler, the half-brother of Nordica, could be found. Ehler has been located in Altoona, Pa. Mme. Nordica's share of the estate amounts to $300,000. the public's opinion of him, and sel lom tried to do his best. Despite this unfortunate trait, he ranked among the best of our actors. Whether the role was one in refined comedy, society drama or thrilling melodrama, he was ,apable of ftlling the part well. As lead Ing man for Modjeska, which was his frst part in American theatricals, he won favor. He has played in stock companies of the best caliber and has supported some of the foremost act resses. His latest success was in Van ity Fair. He has written one or two plays of interior merit. Socially he was charming. His thorough educa tion, his wide experience and his sun ny temperament made him a favorite. An English clergyman's son, a Cam bridge graduate, a lawyer by Drofes sion, he was a man of superior cul ture. But the "Barry" who was the idol of the matinee girl and a chieftain of Bo hemia is no more. In the insane pa vilion at Bellevue hospital, New York, there is a raving maniac, who, the at tendants say, is Maurice Barrymora I 44 MAURICE BARRYMORE. Reason has fled, never to return, say the doctors. He has paresis in its worst form, and the end is not far off. Barrymore is about 50 years old. He married Georgie Drew, daughter of Mrs. John Drew, and has one daugh ter, Ethel, one of the sweetest little la dies of the stage, and a son, Jack, also an actor. If Richard Mansfield allows his op tion on the dramatic rights to "Mon sieur Beaucaire" to lapse it is said that the dramatized version of the story will be produced by Harry Woodruff who is going to become a star. -11 I NORDIOA. Nordica, whose real name is Lillian Norton, is one of the foremost Ameri can singers. She was born in Farming ton, Me., studied in Boston and at Milan, and made her operatic debut in Italy. After singing in all the Euro pean capitals and establishing a repu tation, she came to America. Here, as abroad, her success has been notable. With Melba, Calve and Mme. Sembrich she has divided the honors of grand opera for several seasons. The Moon Baby. There's a beautiful golden cradle, That rocks in the rose red sky; I have seen it there in the evening air, When the bats and beetles fly; With little white clouds for curtains, And pillows of fleecy wool. And a dear little bed for the Moon Baby's head, So tiny and beautiful. There are tender young stars around it, That wait for their bath of dew In the purple tints that the sun's warm prints Have left on the mountain blue; There are good little gentle planets ~That wait to be nursed and kissed And laid to sleep in the ocean deep, Under silvery folds of mist. But the Moon Baby first must slumber, For he is their proud young king; So, hand in hand, 'round his bed they stand And lullabies low they sing, And the beautiful golden cradle Is rocked by the winds that stray, With pinions soft, from the halls aloft, Where the Moon Baby lives by day. Elsie Learn About Money. Elsie's first experience with money occurred when she was so short that she had to climb up on a stool in order to see the clerk behind the candy counter. Then she used to take a penny out of her little white mitten, reach it out to the clerk and say, ". 'ittle tandy mouse, p'ease." So the first thing Elsie learned about money was that she could exchange it for something she wanted. On day Elsie's uncle came to visit her, and he gave her more money than she had ever had at one time in her life-a bright new silver quarter. It was so pretty that Elsie thought she would keep it always. She carried it everywhere she went, and thought about it most of the time. Then she began to be afraid she would lose it, and it worried her very much until she thought of a place where she could hide it. When no one was looking she picked out a tiny spruce tree in the field where she often played, and under this tree she planted her shiny quarter. Then she ran away to play, happy in the thought that her precious money was safe. Next morning she went to look at it. She dug and dug all around the tree, but she did not find it. She looked under all the other little spruce trees, for, strange to say, they all looked so much alike that she could not exactly remember which one was the tree where she buried her treasure. She never found the money, but she learned two things: First, money is a great care in itself and of no use unless it is in use; second, buried money is as good as no money. The next money Elsie had was a whole dol lar bill. She could hardly believe that the little rectangle of green paper was four times as good as the shiny money she had lost. They had to explain to her that four shiny silver quarters had been locked up for her in Uncle Sam's big treasure house, and that the green bill was just to say that she could buy a dollar's worth of something and he would pay the silver or gold for it. The bill she hid on the shelf behind the clock, and on rainy days she would climb up and look at it and plan what she would buy with it at Christmas time. When Christmas was near she went with Auntie to town to spend the dollar. She bought a jack knife for Brother Hal, handkerchief' for papa and a pretty cup and saucer for mamma. They were all so pleased and surprised with her presents that Elsie made up her mind that all money was good for was to spend in making other people happy. Some day I will tell you how Elsie first learned that money had to be earned and how she earned her first money.-New York Press. Aunt Kate Penny'M Lecture. Somebody asked in rhyme not long ago, "Did you ever see a rabbit climb a tree?" And went on to explain the reason why no one had, by saying that it "Simply couldn't do it, don't you see." That isn't much of a reason, is it? Perhaps you know the real reason why and will tell us; but I'm going to give as my reason, that it wasn't taught how when it was young. If its home had been up the tree I think it would have managed it as well as its cousin, Signor Squirrel, don't you? But that isn't at all what I started out to lecture about, for I dare say all of you know three times as much as I do about squirrels and rabbits and such things-what I meant to ask was, can you write with your left hand? Or throw a stone? Or brush your hair? Or use your knife? Or button your shoes? Or catch a ball? Or do a hun dred other things? If you can't it is high time you began, for you will find plenty of use for your left hand if you only train it as your right hand is trained, and develop the left side muscles. Don't be discouraged because it is awkward for a time; just remem ber that your right hand has been trained ever since you were a little baby reaching out after the pretty red worsted ball. Jack Ailing broke his right arm not long ago, and he was in despair when he was allowed to go about a little, because his left hand didn't do as he was accustomed to have his right hand do; he had to have his meat cut for him, like a baby, and the soup always splashed out of the spoon; but he started to train his left hand, and it wasn't long before he wrote me such a pretty letter with it, telling how he called his right hand "the teacher who was sick," and the left "the pupil who has been left in charge of a schoolful of duties." And his sister Jessie was so impressed with his prog ress that now she is taking writing lessons and fencing lessons "On both sides," as she expresses it. P. S.-Any left-handed boy or girl who reads this lecture will please read it upside down; I mean put right in the place of left.-New York Press. The Lost Prlnceeses. The following story of two little princesses was written by a bright little pupil of the second grade Cal houn street school-Hortense Moran, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. P. J. Moran: Once there were two little girls, and their mother was a queen and their father was a king, and one day they went to walk without any one with them. But they went so far that they met a man. The man said to them, "What is your name, little girls?" They said, "We have lost our way." "But," said the man, "tell me your name." They said, "Our names are Elizabeth and Claire, the daughters of Queen Eliza beth." "Well," said the man, "I will take you to my home until I can find your mother." So they went with him to his home. It was a very nice little cottage and had very pretty roses and other flowers that I like, and there were children around there, too. Eliza beth and Claire had very happy times with the other children, and when they were lonesome the people of the house would say, "Go pick a lot of flowers and make some wreaths and sell them." Now, as the queen was very worried over her children, as they had not come home, she and the king went to hunt them, and they did not find them. They went homne in misery and retired, and when the morning came they hunted them again, and the man that took them to his home was hunt ing their mother, too. Then the king and queen went home, and did not find them in a long time. But every day the children played and had fun. One day the man found their mother and told the children, and the children were glad, and so the man took them to their mother, and their mother thanked him for keeping them safe, so the queen gave the man five thousand dollars. The king and queen and their two little girls lived happily ever after, and so did the man.-Atlanta Consti tution. Games Played by Chinese Children. a It is interesting while American boys a and girls are playing their games and d enjoying their sports to read of the q enjoyment the children of other coun- n tries have. Chinese boys and girls, . for instance, have their games that they play with just as much enthusi asm as do their American cousins. r One of these is "the hawk catching a young chickens." The children stand n one Ibehind the other, having the larg- i est boy to protect them from the hawk. a The hawk, the child who, as we say in s most games, is it, comes to catch the 0 chickens, but the line swings back s and forth and the protector keeps be tween the brood and the hawk. An other game is "pointing at the moon or stars." The children form themselves into a ring, with one of their number C blindfolded in the center. The ring moves around, the players singing. The ring stops and the boy in the center points. The person toward whom he points must take his place blindfolded in the center. Another game is "kick ing the marble." The players have two marbles an inch or more in di ameter, one of which is put upon the ground and shoved with the foot. The 1 other is put down and one boy tells the other to put it a certain direction from the other. If he shoves it so as to hit the other and still go in the desired direction he wins double and is entitled to two kicks. If he simply goes in the position indicated he wills and is entitled to one kick.-Chicago t Record. A Shadow of Her Life. Somebody once asked a tranquil old resident of Nantucket if her life had always run as smoothly as she could wish; if no great sorrows or disap pointments had ever come to mar its serenity. The old lady sat looking out of the window for a moment, and then turned to her questioner with a little smile on her sweet face.. "I suppose you'll think it's foolish. maybe," she said, "but I did have one great disappointment, and I've never forgotten it. There was a man that came to the island once with a hand organ and a monkey. He got as far as the corner of our street, and I thought he was coming right this way, but he didn't. "I was housed with a cold and couldn't go out to see him and his monkey, so I only caught just a glimpse of them. They played half an hour in the next street. "Disappointments like that stay by folks all their lives," she added, after a sympathetic ejaculation from her visitor. "It was more than thirty years ago, but I've never ceased re gretting I didn't see that monkey. I've been wonderfully blessed in every oth er way, dear; but that organ-grinder never came to the island again, never!"-Youths' Companion. With money you can move the gods; without it you can't move a man. I, nI Nikko. The cryptomerias of old Japan Reach to the skies, as freshly washed with dew, As heedless of the miseries of man As when the world was new. 'Twixt their long avenues of stately shade, 'Great sepulchers of monarchs dead and gone, Like scarlet blossoms that can never fade, Gleam in the setting sun. Blood-red they gleam, as glorying in the blood Shed for these kings of men in ages past, When lives were but as drops to swell the flood That brought them here at last. These lacquered monuments speak to the sky Of ruthless courage, of disdain for man, Of pride that worshiped self, nor feared to die For glory of Japan. But when the nightingale sings in the trees Above the unnumbered graves the hills that throng She sings of those who gladly died that these Might be remembered long. -The Century. Tralnlng Boys to Shoot. "If American schoolboys were trained to handle a rifle properly this 1 country would soon have little use for a standing army, the taxpayers would save money and the land would be safe from the invasion of all the troops of Europe put together." Such is the opinion of Maj. F. R. Burnham, the famous American scout, who served with the British in South Africa. "For a man to be a really good violinist," continues the major, "they say his hand should be trained almost from the time he is a baby. It is the same with the rifle, and I be lieve schoolboys should begin practice at the age of 8 with a small-sized rifle and light cartridges. Properly man aged, there would be absolutely no danger. Only two guns would be re quired for each school and they would never be handled except when the boy steps up to the range and receives the weapon from the man at his side. "I am convinced that with rifle ranges generally in use in the schools shooting accidents would be far less numerous than now. The didn't-know it-was-loaded fool would gradually dis appear. With a little ingenuity and at slight expense the target could consist of various moving figures of reduced size. Boys thus trained, say, every Friday afternoon, between the ages of 8 and 21, would as a rule become splen did marksmen, and two weeks' prac tice would accustom them to the heavy cartridge now in use for long range. It would be admirable discipline for them, too, besides being an idea that would appeal to every healthy boy. "Their effectiveness as defenders of thei country would be greatly in creased by an occasional field day, in which they could be trained in the first principles of the art of getting out of sight and moving rapidly without at tracting notice. Turn a lot of boys loose, set an officer with a field glass to watch them and give some little prize to the boy who takes the most in telligent advantage of whatever means of concealment the field affords, and you not only delight the boys, but give to them some valuable experience in the kind of thing that the soldier of the future is going to want most. "The foe of the future will be an unseen foe, and that is the kind of enemy that the soldier drilled in the old school cannot withstand. I have seen plenty of men who seemed re gardless of their own lives when the bullets flying about came from a visi ble enemy, but when the shots poured in from a foe unseen that same band would lose its nerve with wonterful promptness. "The cost of teaching American boys to handle a rifle could be kept down to $100 a year for each school, and it would be one of the most economical of expenses, for the chances are that it would in time save far more than it cost. It would give the sort of train ing that the warfare of the future is going to call for. The young fellow who can shoot quick and straight, who can keep himself out of sight, who can use his brains, is going to be worth a dozen of the old-style, barrack-drilled, automatic fighting machines who were all right in the old days, but who are of little use before accurate rifle firing at long range from men who can't be seen. For the same reason it used to take three or four men on the offensive to beat one on the defensive. Under present conditions the proportion is something like tenxt to one, and it may become fourteen or fifteen to one be fore long."-Utica Globe. Admiral .ampson's Youth. There is no finer, more instructive illustration of republican possibilities in the way of rising to eminence than is presented in the career of Admiral William T. Sampson, rear-admrial, United States navy. In the town of Palmyra, Wayne county, N. Y., Samp son was born, Feb. 8, 1840, and re ceived the first hard knocks that "sea soned" him for future honors. The Sampson stock on both sides came from the Scotch Presbyterian branch of the English race that settled in the north I of Ireland. James Sampson was one of three brothers, all in very humble walks of life, who came to this coun try and planted themselves in or near Palmyra, where he met and married Hannah Walker. The father labored at anything he could find in the vil lage. He sawed wood, d.d chores, was handy at gardening, a man of all work, and he did everything well, says the Cincinnati Enquirer. They all say that. The family was a large one; it was a constant hustle for food and clothes, and as the boys grew up they handled bread-winning oars by the father's side. One trait in William's I character developed early-the propen sity to make a clean Job of anything he undertook. "Will used to hoe corn and potatoes for me when he was a little o shaver for 2 shillings a day," said Farmer C. D. Johnson, "and he did the r work as conscientiously as if he was getting $2 a day. No matter what the *r Job chanced to be, he went at it with grim earnestness, and never let up till he finished it thoroughly." About four miles out of town on the Mormon hill e farm, lives the admiral's brother George, a plain, old-fashioned farmer, .e who tells one good story to point the grim perseverance in William's charac ter. They were at work on the farm one day when a boyish quarrel sprang up between them. George, the young er, picked up a stone and hit William. "Then I took to my heels," said the brother, "and Will after me at fulk re speed. I could beat him on the run, is but he kept after me two solid hours, >r and would have winded his game sure Id in the end It father hadn't come on the fe scene and put a stop to the scrap. )f There was no let up in that boy when, he started out for a thing." In 1857 Ft. Congressman Morgan was hunting for It, a likely boy to send to Annapolis. :h There were families in the town then ly of greater prominence in a social and r, political way that had sons at the ?d proper age, and if it had hinged on a It matter of influence the prize would e- have gone to one of them. They were ce all good fellows, but they happened to 9e be only sons, and the families didn't n- take kindly to the idea of a naval life 0o for their darlings. Sampson entered 'e- the naval academy in 1857 and was Id graduated first in his class three years )Y later. Found Fault with His Cavalry. From "A History of Frederick the Great": "Gentlemen," said Frederick the Great, "I am entirely dissatisfied with the cavalry; the regiments are completely out of hand; there is no accuracy, no order; the men ride like tailors. I beg that this may not occur again, and that each of you will pay more attention to his duty. But I know how things go on. You think I am not up to your dodges, but I know them all and will recapitulate them. When the season for riding drill comes on the captain sends for the sergeant major and says, 'I have an appoint ment this morning at -; tell the first lieutenant to take the rides.' So the sergeant major goes to the senior subaltern and gives him the message, and the latter says, 'What! the captain will be away? Then I am off hunting; tell the second lieutenant to take the men.' And the second lieutenant, who is probably still in bed, says, 'What, both of them away? Then I will stay where I am. I was up till 3 this morn ing at a dance; tell the cornet I am ill and he must take the rides.' Finally the cornet remarks, 'Look here, ser geant major, what is the good of my standing out there in the cold? You know all about it much better than I do, you go and take them'; and so it goes, and what must be the end of it all? What can I hope to do witl' such cavalry before the enemy?" He Escaped Burial Alive. Lying on the slabs of a morgue at Manila for two days and nights, con scious that he was likely to be buried alive, yet without the power to move or indicate that he was in the land of the living, and after this period be ing tortured by the application of hot bags-so hot that they fairly burned the flesh to the bone-George Coleman is now seeking a pension from the gov ernment, with the expectation that it will be readily granted. He is a Chi cago boy who enlisted in the 45tb United States infantry volunteers and saw service in the Philippines. An attack of typhoid fever resulted in his apparent death, and he had been laid out to await burial, 'when signs of life were detected and the hot water was applied in the attempt to resusci tate him. It was successful, but Cole man was so badly scalded that he is told he will be a cripple for life. At the time of his enlistment he was em r ployed in an Elgin, Ill., factory. Graveyard Like Prairle Dog Town. A Kansas boy in China writes that the custom of the Chinese in burying their dead in mounds above the level of the ground "makes the whole coun e try look like an exaggerated prairle s dog town."