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Y At The Playhouses
77 ____ 7,, rp«ýO PO'LLY T HEATRE. SUNDAY. TULANE THEATRE Robert B. Mantell, the foremost classic tragedian on the English speaking stage, will open a two weeks' engagement at the Tulane Theater, New Orleans, Monday night, January 7. During the fortnight Mr. Mantell and his supportlng company of thirty-three carefully trained Shakespearean players will Ipnt eight of the great classic p in the grand old manner of Booth and Irving. Complete and elaborate scenic productions for all of the dramas are carried. Since the death of Sir Herbert Tree in England last summer, Mr. Mantell ie left as the only tragedian ý r: 'ate: on the Englishepeat ng stage pre serving the great traditions that had their origin with Richard Burbaege i Shakespeare's own company, and were passed down through the gen erations of Betterton. Garrlck, Kem. hie. Porrest, Booth and Irving. No successor to Wr. Mantell is in sight on either side of the Atlantic. aMd. consequently, it is not at all improb able that the preent gumeratle of playgoers will not agati mo the clam. sicd adequately Interpreted. LMA RUEBENS AND WALT WRITMAN IN SCENE FRO 3KIANGLE PLAY, "THE. EGENERATES." FOTO'S FOLLY THEATRE THURSDAY. Mum wY ma UNITED STATES lVERN~MENT During the first week at the Tu. lane the order of plays will be as follows: "Richelieu," Monday night; "Hamlet. Tuesday night; "The Mer chant of Venice,' Wiednesday after noon; "Richelieu," again Wednes. day night; "King Lear," Thursday night; "Macbeth," Friday night; "Hamlet.' again Saturday afternoon, "Richard III," Saturday night. Ichelieu,' by Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, is the only non-Shake spearean play in the list, but the great scene in which the Cardinal statesman, who guided France through a period of storm and stress similar to that in which she is now lavored foils court conspirators seeking his overthrew W, drawig the manie circle of he Church of Rome has raeked this ply with the best of the werbs e the m~iiH sthitn. "King Lear' is usually regarded a Mr. Mantell's masterpiece of trail acting, Just at it is 8hakeepare's masterplece of composition. The other plays, all familiar to the e tored reader and playgoer, roun ed a repertoire more extensive and do midable than any habitually present. ed by a tragedian since Booth. By WILLARD CHALLONER. "One hundred dollars!" exuberated Warren Deane in a positive burst of ecstasy. "Two hundred, my dear fellow." cor rected Rupert Thrall, picture broker. "Why do you minlimize a really preten tious streak of fortune!" "Because I agreed to give you an even half of whatever The Masquera ders' sold for." "We will waive that in this in stance," Thrall asserted. "I've got faith in you, in your ability and in your final fame and fortune, therefore I insist on financing you, to an extent, and making up for it when I am selling your pictures at thousands instead of handreds. So I decline to take my commission, provided you follow my directions explicitly as to the invest mAit of the money." "And that is?" submitted Warren. "Take a vacation." Warren Deane had been a home boy, living a quiet life with his widowed mother until she died. Alone ip the r world, he followed the bent of his mind in the direction of art and liter ature. The sale of "The Masqueraders" was his first streak of luck. He followed the advice of the only friend he had found in the great wilderness of the city, the picture broker, and two days later was established in a quiet village boarding house at Vlrden, and roam i Lng the hills with easel and color box, seeking subjects and studies. One morning he was sketching out Ina crayon a dell outline upon the can vas, when a little miss of about five passed along a woodland path fringing the deep gully beyond. A great bushy dog frisked about her. Her charming face, her graceful bow attracted him and Irresistibly his eyes followed her. Suddenly, appalled, he sprang to his feet from the camp stool. In switching about her, the dog brushed too close to the child-she toppled, and went out of sight over the edge of the cliff. Shocked, half-stunned, shuddering, Warren ran to the ledge. A great sigh of hope rent his lips as, five feet down, he saw the child wedged against a slanting rock and crying with fright and clinging to a frail bush. Beneath yawned an abyss. "Dop't move ! Don't let go I" cried Warren. He was trehbling all over as he let himself over the ledge. He uttered a gaspeof joy as his feet were anchored. Slowly lifting the child, he pushed her beyond the ledge, climbed up himself, and fell upon a log, breath less and exhausted. Warren soothed her and carried her to where his easel stood, and placed her on the camp stool "Now you must rest, and then go right home, and don't ever get so near the ravine again," he said. "And I'll tell Maudle how good you are, and she'll just love you," prattled the Innocent. "And-oh, my ! I'll get some more doughnuts and bring them hebr, and it will be my picnic, and you are invited. Won't that be grand?' Warren resumed his work. Sure enough, at the end of two hours the little one reappeared. She carried a paper bag, which she placed carefully on the stool. "I told sister Maudle, and she said I must thank you, and bring you home I with me, for her to thank you." And then little Winale questioned him about the easel, and his being there, and what was an artist man. He caught her pose with a true artist's *eye as, on tlp-toe, hbe held one of the dogghnuts above her bhead, the dog i standing on his hind feet and reaching Ifur it "Don't move-tp that way," se . dred Warren a fbm of enthusiasm, whlile be te the preseltation rgi~ti. make a cnvas of It Wessme to evade goling hoe with nttle Wle, though Iavited, but be w as stent when he came to ga S8"priager, whom he never toggot, she was al that wa'rIh'I, dainty and gentUe. On day at the village he learsed tha tMande SprUger, althogh she lived humbly, was heires to one of the largest estates in the district. The same day be packed up his kit dis eesolately. He would never tell his level "I will not even tell her good-by- It is better to go now, before I sufer cen deeply," he mused. " I woeder, *s.- what she would thlk if I rg Y that I loved her, and asked her to become the wife of a poor but devoted qtor, and-" All of ths was what Warren Deans wre e story Ina the woodland dell that ub, last afternoon in para disc It was hls true heart story. He left the sheets across the camp stool, uas he proceeded some distance away to take down and pack up a hammock he had struong between two trees In a bady nook. He came back to get iMs other traps tigether, ittle knowing that duraig bs nce Mande Sprlager had visited pot. 8 read the pathetie heart story. Then she took up its last page and added-"f-lsl" Ad this was the "dais" that War rem Deane foud added to hli true hert tory: "- and Maude Spriasger would have said 'yes' and the bright desire of her life would be to lay at the feet of the man she loved, not only her loy al devotlon, but her fortune, to help him to give to the world seme great work of art that worald make him fa mor." tCorsrrsh, ants. weera Wwsvser Untoe.) Advertise In "The Herald" THE GALLY FEUD By IZOLA FORRESTER. Bruce Farraday had been away from home for so long that he had ac tually underestimated the manners and customs of Halsey Gap. He had been home from Rudemeir college about four days. The family had given him to understand that they expected all things of him, and especially that he should run for rep resentative the next autumn. There had been a Farraday in the state legislature from the Gap section ever since West Virginia had walked her own path to statehood. Since the death of Bruce's father fifteen years before, the Gaily family had con trolled the seat. Bart Gally had gone up for two terms and Wallace had followed in his footsteps. He rode down the mountain road to the little village after mail, loving every foot of the way. It had been years since he had walked that road to school. When he came to the old familiar crossroads, with its calrn of rock supporting an old sign post, he drew rein. Many a time he had loi tered there waiting for Nance Gaily to come along on her way to school. What had they cared for feuds in those days! She was six, he bare ly ten. Resting now in his saddle, while the Captain cropped the sweet clover and sorrel by the roadside, he remembered the day of their great quarrel. He had called her redhead on the way home from school, because she had walked with her cousin Wal lace instead of him. There had been a fight and Wallace, a strapping, black browed youth of fifteen, had beaten him before her eyes. The sound of horses' hoofs canter Ing along the old timber road roused him from reverie. It was Nance. She rode her sorrel mare like a boy, her short curls flying in the morning breeze. As she rode, she was singing Dixie at the top of her lungs, until she caught sight of the silent horseman, and stopped short. Bruce raised his cap in neighborly greeting, noting approvingly the vivid beauty of her young face and spark ling eyes. "Good morning, Miss Nance." he said. "It seems like old times to be waiting here for you. You're looking mighty well." She tossed her head in quick resent meat "I reckon you can keep your compli ments to home, Bruce Farraday. We ain't askin' anythin' from any of you In the complimentary line." She rude on, never looking behind. It was that afternoon that he gave Matt Crawford, local boss of the Dem ocratic caucus, permission to use his name for nomination at the coming elections. "You've got to step lively and look both ways at once," said Sister Belle, when the campaign was in full swing. The next day there was a confer ence between Bruce and Matt Craw ford. Briefly Bruce outlined his plan of action. On the Farraday property there was a large old mica mine, un worked since the death of his father. Ever since his arrival he had secretly been probing its possibilities, and felt fairly sure of his ground. "Matt," he said, "I know a chap with capital, who went to Rudemeir with me. He'll back the old mica mines when I say so. Let's open them now and hire all the available men. Get them on ohe-year contracts, wth op tion of renewal." Matt grinned appreciatively. "I think I'm looking at our next rep resentative," he said. The mine was a success. Boys and me from all distrlets through the val ley and mountains flocked to work in stead of remaining idle through the summer and autamn, waiting for the Gally mills to open. Dection day told the story. When the votes were counted In the little room back of the poet ome old Judge Plnkus stroked hisl Vandyke happily. "I reckon you're beaten, Wally," he remarked through his little glass grat ing at the stamp windoW. Nance heard the words, too, as she stood by the window. With a mattered oath her cousin rushed past her out into the little square where men were cheering for a Farraday. Bllnd with fury, he shot out his fist at Bruce, but tell as Brauce canuht him with a conter blow oea the point of the chain. Brauce leaped to the old oak stump. "Fpellow-dUiseas of the Gap, this is the end of the Gally feud. Night here Wallace and I have settled old scores, and I want to tell you It's time the Gap Joined the march of progress and buried the feud forever. You shake Ihads with me, Gaily; If you don't Il beat you up until you do, for we're goag to be trlends from this day ia." Wonderingly the Gap beheld the two saake hands as Bruce left the stuamp. A minaute more, and he was beside Nane, where she stood apart from the others "Can I help yoa on youear horseT' he asked. "TIm going to see yoa bome." Nance lifted her tear-wet face to hil, capitulation in her e)es. "I'm mighty glad you won, BraeS," was all she said. (Cro~aright. T. by the MeClare Newag per sarsdicatl) A Real Hardshlp. "So, I retfse to pay any more et ur poker debts." "That's rather toulh, dad," said the gilded youth. "My decision is bnal." "But, do you realize, dad, that there are practically no facilitis in this S-,- for any Viber gtmes of cbhne.?" HOMESICK By HILDA MORRIS. Christine had come to Stillville from the city to be a substitute teacher in the township high school. She had been there only a month, but already the country air had begun to work wonders with her pale cheeks and hol low eyes. "If only It weren't so lonesomel" she thought, as she walked a country road one bright, windy Saturday af ternoon. But just then she heard some one calling. "HI there !" a man's voice shouted. "Hi there, Miss Gray l" It was Richard Harding, greeting her In the local fashion. Christine stood and waited as he came striding toward her, a fine, strapping young man, clad in farmer's overalls and a flannel shirt. "Are you taking a walk?" he asked as he caught up with her. His voice had the easy modulations of an edu cated man. He was a graduate of an eastern college. "Yes, I'm going through your ceme tery. It's so quaint ! I'm only used to crowded city cemeteries that reach for blocks and blocks. Tell me, are all the people in this town related?" Richard laughed. "Very nearly. The Bulllts are related to the Emmets and the Emmetts to the Hardings and the Hardings to the Bulllts again. We're all kin somehow." "All but me," said the girl, laugh ing a little wistfully. "It must seem queer to have so many relations." Richard did not appear to have heard her remark. He was looking ahead at the big square red brick farmhouse where he lived with his mother and sister. His mother, a sun bonnet on her head, was cutting tul lips from the rows, that bordered the garden walk. She straightened up as they approached, and came to the gate. "Howdy!" she said cordially. "It's right cool for an April day, isn't it? Have you been walking, Miss Gray? Well, do come in and have a cup of tea. I made some cinnamon cakes this morning that must be eaten." Christine hesitated. "It isn't five o'clock yet," said Mrs. Harding, royally sweeping aside the girl's unspoken objections. Richard was holding the gate open, so almost before she knew it Christine found her self in the big square sitting-room of the Harding homestead. She had not been in a private home of this sise for years and years, not since her childhood days and before long arid years of furnished rooms. The house gave her rather an awesome impression of vastness and elegance. It had been solidly built for .posterity by a forebear from New England. Its furniture was mid-Vlctori n. "Have you always lived In the city?" Miss Lottle Harding asked in her timid voice. Miss Lottle was an "old maid" who spent her years in making endless yards of tatting. "Since I was two," said Christine. "Are your parents living?' pursued Miss Lottle, to whom family was one's most Interesting attribute. "No," answered Christine. This put a somber period on the conversation, broken only when Mrs Harding brought in the tea. In spite of herself the girl presently began to feel the homelike warmth of the place. When she left, stepping out into the damp spring dusk, It seemed as though the chill wind struck her with redoubled force. She shiv. ared, and hurried back to her dingy room in the village hotel. The next day Christine met Richard Harding on the corner by the poet of. lce. "OCn't you take a drive?" he called eagerly. "My team's just over y7o The sirl perked her pretty head uas though considdertng. "Why, perhaps," she conceed, "fe a little while." Presently they were riding off dows a winding road bordered with dog. wood and the pieturesque lowering Judas tree. "I'm soing home naest week." sbe announced, as calmly as though her heart were not beating furiously. "Home?' he queried. "Back to the city, where it in't N lonesome. I only cames to substitate for a month, anyway, and rm not sed to the country. It's too qutaet feor me.a" "I suppose it is," Richard ameanted, lettWlg the reins drop loosely. "I sup. pose you couldn't stand it here. But I've something to ask you, Christine, If I should be willing to come to the city and live your way-give up this quiet country life-would you marry me, Christinet~ ' "Leave here !" cried the girl increds. les "Why, Blehard, I-I like you best here. You belong here, Oh, iBlch ard," she breathed. "I was so bome' sick ! I was going toleave because I eeald not stand It to see homes and freplaces and mothers all 'bout m.a" "Well," be answered joyously, "yo aeedn't ever be homesick agatn. To have me, all right " (Copyrtsht, WIT, by the McClure Newra per aSndicate.) D'Anenule.% Real Nums. "D'Anunanlo" of Italy was once doe ueane as a decadent scrlbbler et owery and fragrant phruse The war, bowever, made him a verSe an statesmanlike patriot. During the latest fighting on Carao plateau bh has fought hand to bhand with his coun try'reneies. By the way, "(abriele d'Aannudo" Is a pme name. The a. thos real aame is Gaetano BDsa TULA NE Startii , 'onday, ,Jlan PRICES: N3A..and sa. Moi**-25., so,, I s5 , s1, = Wdlnasay matine..... 2 ,o, I sOc, $1.00 ROBERT B. FIRST WEEK Meaday yight tl MAN TELL ?WedE a' itea Thursday Night IN Friday Night Shakespearn id the Classics sat:day Nirht ._ wi LOEW'S CRESCENT CONTINUOUS EVERY DAY. I TO II 10 - BIG VAUDEVILLE ACTS - 10 16 - REELS FIRST RUN MOVIES - 16 Pictures beg 1 P. M. 3 Vaudeville Shows Daily. 3:30, 7, 9 P. M. 4 Shows San a Sunday. 2. 4. 7 and 9 P. M. i AFTERNOONS 0, NIGHTS 10, 15, 2 Sat. rad Sue. Afternoons 1 COM AEND O AS YOU PLASE Two Complete Changes, Suaday and Thursday Phone Ma PHONE MAIN 333334 BEST OF VAUDEVILLE MATINEE EVERY DAY 2:16-lIO TO 50. BOX SEATS 75c. EVERY IGHT 8:15-10o TO 75h B0O SEATS s.u Foto's Folly Theatre ATTRACTIONS FOTOS FOLLY THEATRE Week Eading Saturday, Jaarua 12. SUNDAY, Jan. 6-"The Fuel of Life." Bell Bennett. 5 parts. "Pearls and Perils," Keystone, 2 parts. "Mutual Weekly News of the War." I part. MONDAY, Jan. 7-"Peggy Leads the Way," Mary Miles Minter. S parts. "Other pictures." TUESDAY, Jan. 8-"The Man from Painted Post," Douglas Fairbanks. S parts. "Strand Comedy and Educational." 2 parts. PORTOLA THEATRE CANAL AND DRYADES $TS. High Class Motion Pictures WA. in . oo. d Hfelth, Provide eaeinAt Ilknes nad Deta . by Inesrlta In the CITIZENS' INDUSTRIAL LIFE INSURANCE AND SICK BENEFIT ASSOCIATION Pmde.me IO - 2e S per week. 1T1 CARO@NDILrT sItg Where to Stop in New Orles NAME A ru m Roa.. 114 Royal St., 800, 75c, S1.00 H let t l l N.a C c,.,T,....., S, 'wsrtt ooMINg 311 Echange Rooms 15cto m0s HOUU Pooo St to 8 McEvey's ltelot 7$,p . , - Lan HCa wN 0 411 Bien ,, s,. ,. mr . ,,: Cor. N. Peters t s , i« -e The Albert Nles I St. ~e o~Y Frid Brkhl's lows , r.,g . "-yr-n . Bienville St. sa,, si.uoi go w. UZ 1ttTransients' Ro am 'P 2~l m hine H0e, 75c, S.00 TAs "OoIa" 8m esr. l 1.a w Od.sm wivod d e "Yesag Al .s.* W. L. Douglas Sh SOLD ONLY DT Schumacher Shoe S 228 loyal Street JOHN P. VEZIMN, Pr.s. Carstens & Vezien Co., Lt Ship Chandlers and Grocers Speeoal Attntlem to atllread Orders. Prompt Del 314-1316 ORGAN STREET. PHONE, ALGIERS 21L M.T. Cam Os.. Sra., . rdwrm., OGncri.e, tk. Wiee.. FLORIDA HAT SHOP IAE*13 OF1 8ATS--IOD3BLR AND RIlOVATORS O1 ALL 01 ATiS; ILAEZ' •ATS A IPZCILLTY. We awe prepared t m pa ye with met Prom and eatiefatosw Or PLe r Pmries ad ie oder M aehierý, and Meet Wrklp-o-, ur Filesa a igh. Let a do Yar work--we will 82.50 -.SIP oU, 2.50 FLORIDA HAT SHOP m CAi u mr L I~ WEDNESDAY, Jan. 9-"Paul Es P ers and Selected Pictures." THURSDAY. Jan. 10-"The Ply. Walt Whitman. S parts. "A Fali Ahhs Komedy, I part. "Folly Wadi 4 of the War," I part. FRIDAY, Jan. ll-"The Ghost Esl " ," Pickford, S parts. "The Patal Pearl White, 2 parts. SATURDAY. Jan. 12-"The Aria.," W Hart. 5 parts. "Triangle Zmes r other Pictures. 2 parts. Pearce's Theatres TRIANON 814 CANAL ST. TUDOR 610 CANAL ST.