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*M fiydG.T1ILL.Al3i A.jr/A!£ CA7X*M .£9& 13. Campbell river empttas into the channel between V^ldssz island and Vancouver island, and Is the Ideal place for catching the great tyee. The tides at1 Campbell river area very se rious factor in the calculations .of vis iting anfelerfe, for the channel between Valdez:island and Vancouver island, at this ptfint less than three miles wide, has the whole flood of the Pacific pour ing through. Much scheming: has therefore to be devised to cheat the tides from the Willow hotel up to Campbell river mouth, a wearisome row of a mile and a half, should the current be contrary. This piece of water is nearly always good for a fish or twd but as a rule boats are in a hurry to reach the best of the water opposite the actual mouth of the river. This cream of the fishing lies imme diately pff the big sand bar that pro jects seaward from Campbell River point. There is plenty of room Tor everybody and little fear of the sport deteriorating, as long as the present rules regarding the prohibition of net fishing in the channel is rigidly en forced. The sole danger to be feared off Campbell river mouth is from the masses of floating kelp or seaweed into which these monster fish have every inclination to burrow. This learthery weed is of such a nature- that when fouled it is an even chance against a fisherman recovering any part of his tackle. The first evening we left the hotel and rowed some hundred yards clear of the banks of seaweed in the main tideway. Here the line is let out for 20 yards, and you troll northward for half a mile to the Indian village where the finest fishing ground is situ ated. As the evening falls and the time of feeding approaches .generally about the turn of the tide at low wa ter, a little army of siwash canoes push silently out from the village, and, forming a line, row rapidly up and down the stream from the village to a beacon at the mouth of the river. Here the tyee rest under the floating sea ware, and if the lure is properly pre sented to the fish at the moment of feeding-time, the angler is sure to have at least one run in the evening. Two days of ill-luck convinced me that something was wrong with my methods of fishing, so I took the oppor tunity of visiting the Indian village and extracting some information on the subject of lures from the Indians. In 1907 the chief attraction had been a large lead spoon polished on one side but during 1908 none had been successful with this artifice, the In dians themselves using a small, bright nickel spoon. I bought two of them from a local store and got an Indian to lash on With string a siwash-hook of approved pattern. With, this bait confidence revived, and I resolved to go and "buck the tide," that is, row against the heavy stream when others were still ashore and waiting for the evening run. Coming home on the previous day at 3 p. m., I had seen three or four big tyee leaping at a point well out in mid-stream, opposite the old Indian graveyard. Mac, my guide, said he could work the boat there for a short time, so under the blazing afternoon sun we set otit the solemn warning of other more ex- *6. J6.17' POLfffDZRf..... Hoyle—If it were not for my wife I wouldn't be here. Boyle—No, hang it! Neither would I if it were not for mine! the hostess' husband! Retiring Aged Professor®. Regents of the University of'Min nesota have ordained that all contracts with members of the faculty shall ex 5tr« when teachers reach their 65th perienced~jfish£raen ,th&t .we w6re giv ing' ourselves a lot of- .hard work-'fdr nothing.. •. -i- But the ways of the salmon are strange, and you often''take a 'fish when all things look unpropitioug. With infihite toil Mac bucked the tide, and after half an hour's" labor against a six-knot tide'sucQeededjn reaching the spot I had marked. We had scarce ly arrived when my rod was almost torn from-my-hand. No cohoe had strength like this «ven in -a tldeWtiy, and one minute of strain, In^vhieh my 17-foot Hardy rod^ felt ail: ,too weak, convinced me thai* I liad hold of a ver itable tyee aKd a Mg one. With such ..strong., tackle one could take certain 'iber ties with ft fish, how ever large So, forcing his head to the boat every tim& he attempted a sim ilar cruise, I gained the mastery over him before 20 minutes had passed. A difficulty now presented itself in huge masses of floating seaweed,.into which I feared the fish might run and break me. So on Mac's advice we forced the fish shorewards towards the shingly beach below the graveyard, where absence of weed and gravelly sand gave hopes of a safe termination of the contest. The gallant tyee, how ever, showed every disinclination to face the shallow water, as he seemed to know by instinct that therein danger lay. The nearer we got to the land the stronger he seemed to get, and it was only by using such strength as would have been fatal in the case of a river salmon and great care that I at last forced him into such a posit tion that I could spring ashore. Now each successive rush became fainter, and the greatest back and tail I had ever handled began to show up. Fo» one moment he heeled over on his side and gave us our first view of the fish, "He's 50 pounds if an ounce," I cried, trembling with excitement. 'All that," quoth the laconic Mac. The end soon came. The gallant fighter rolled into shallower and shal lower water and found it harder and harder to right his weakened body. "Now go for him, Mac," I cried. No sooner said than done the boatman ran into the sea up to his knees, made two shocking attempts with the gaff and finally emerged dripping, but tri umphant, with the struggling monster. We speculated on his weight, which the hotel scales, whose accuracy we had proved, gave at 55 pounds. Tyee-fishing with a spoon may not be the highest class of sport, but the act of playing the fish is, without doubt, great fun. I am not blase, though I have caught plenty of salmon, so the joy of kiling a 55-pounder as one's first fish was unalloyed. I meant to catch a bigger one and then stop but who ever does? There is always a bigger one still. Damning with Faint Praise. Being eager to know how his off spring, Haymow, Jr., was getting along in the big metropolis, Haymow, Sr., one day repaired thither from his rural habitat and sought information of his brother, long since established in the city. "Wal," said Haymow, Sr., "what do you hear about Ebenezer?" "Oh, I understand," remarked the young hopeful's unclei, "that he is in valuable in his new job." "I swan!" "Moreover, I understand that the boss simply can't do without him." "How you talk!" "And Ebenezer'll be a partner with in a year or so, according to what I hear from the same source." Haymow, Sr., stroked his beard, highly satisfied. "By the way, who told you all this about Ebenezer?" he inquired. "Ebenezer." "Oh!" In all the civilized countries of tbe world 60. per cent, of the persons over ten years old have to work for a living. AT THE FIVE O'CLOCK TEA. ,mmm vkmw Fm 'rrrrwyvv'rrf'yVMWMVUUUuij. birthday. Next June, it is said, a dozen old gentlemen will call the class roll for the last time unless they have before followed the example of their president. Or. Northrop, and aw in their resignation*, well why the other girls hated Zoo. The Phoenician trader spared her a few of the hardships that would fall to the ordinary slave's share, be cause he knew veil enough if he did not he might lose what promised to be the best of his female merchandise. Foi the little Greek's steady bravery, and. endurance covered a frailty of body, and nerves that Zala, born horse man as he was, recognized at once. "A touch of the whip and she'll die," he thought, as he watched the girl face the woman's gibss. The cool bravery of her race was in her eyes, but the lovely, slender lines of her little figure were drawn tense, and the pulse in the white, throat beat like a hammer, and as the woman taunted on roughly, tell ing of Tara's slave market, and other things, Zoe seemed to be bracing her self against physical blows, as she leaned against the side of the pitch ing galley. Zala rose with a growl, to stagger against the mast, for he had forgotten that his ankles were roped. The woman shrank away, for she got as good as she gave from the Scyth ian sharp tongue. In that day men often knew many languages. Zala had been a fighter and, young as he was, had been in many strange camps, so he was able to speak to Zoe, who, as soon as her enemy had departed, collapsed, into a frightened, trembling child. From that hour they were friends. She would bring him her share of food and drink, for Zala, being re bellious, was often half-starved. Some times he would eat 'Wolfishly, for he was no saint to deny himself. But then he would look a the sweet deli cate face, and demand half angrily, Hast thou eaten?" and she would lie to him and say, "Yes, Zala, yes." It was on one of these occasions that he caught her to him fiercely and put his lips to hers. It was enough to him that she returned his kisses before he felt the slave merchant's whip across nis shoulders. That also was enough for his passionate nature, and fierce, unsubdued pride. He gripped the girl to him tigerishly, and she clung to him though she was bruised and hurt in his savage embrace. They tore her away from him at last and Zala was tied up and thrashed, then flung un der the deck to meditate upon his sins, faint and sick, but absolutely un subdued. Two nights afterward there was a heavy storm, the slaves were driven below, and discipline was some what relaxed by imminent danger. The storm had driven the galley out of its course. For Zala and Zoe the inevitable separation was delayed per haps for months. There was a glory not of earth in the girl's blue eyes The trader grunted with satisfaction she was growing fairer every day, she would fetch much gold. As for Zala he was. more amenable. The trader did not guess at the reason that made the Scythian put aside his fierce pride —because with tied limbs he.could not, with all his cunning, arrange those desperate stolen meetings that were life to two souls on the slave 'ship. In one of these dangerous hours, Zala noticed how Zoe coughed—a" hacking little cough—and how the cold air was making her shiver. She was made for .warmth and light. A chill Novem ber in the northern sea was not good for her, he thought anxiously. So one night he rose and made his -way to the trader's cabin in the fore part of the galley. Under the light of a swinging lamp sat the Phoenician cast ing up accounts on a huge sheet of parchment He looked up. Zala ..J'IMIII* By THE COUNTESS OF CROMARTIE They had met" on a long Phoenician slaveship. Ho was a swarthy young •Scythian with a" thin," keen face, an aquiline nose and black hawk's eyes. She was a little fair Gr^ek. with dark fririged blue .eyes, .and a pretty soft way of smiling that she- still'had even now, in the midst of fear and haiiiiting memories of a happy hoihe". The fact of their both being highly born may have drawn them together. For Zala, the Scythian, was a prince's .son, .and had known a happy life, till one day, after hunting, he awoke from ft heavy sleep among the .sand dunes-to find the kidnapers' ropes about-hiS "n^k and ankles. He had fouglit like a young tiger, but it had-been no use, and now his slim highbred beauty and his courage aind strength would doubtless fetch a high price. -_ Just-now he spent most of his time, in chains, for he still had fits of violence. Lying on the deck one. sunset, his black curly head against ithe mast, his-'eyes gazing sul lenly at nothingness, he caught sight of the girl Zoe.. .One of the .other slave women, a foul-tongued young fury, was' mocking her for a soft hearted little fool that did not know what fate had in store for her. Zala stood with his back to the cabin door hiq dark eyes burning flre in the pallor of his face. The trader had merely to call his men to hare htm dragged back to the lower deck. But he did not call. He had live* a fearless and evil life, but he feared his'gods. He said afterward that Zala had the very fire of Bael in his eyes, that night as he spoke—quickly and hoarsely like a man in a fever. "What hast thou done with the child? Answer me, man, answer!" The young Scythian had once com manded men. The sense of that made his tone-like a whip-lash, for all his present fate. The trader- eould-cope with that, so he shrugged hie shoul ders and answered: 'Ah, ha so It la that, is It?" The terrible burning eyes fixed him again. "Give her to me,'.' 'said gnlw, giv« her to me, or by the gods 'tis my dead body thou shalt take on thy ship to Tara and—l am valuabteWS^!" He rent the tattered tunic- from him and stood in his lithe half-naked beauty under the lamplight. "See! They said ions ego I had beauty and strength. Man, I will make thee rich m. if I live. My body is thine to sell or slay, only—give her tack to me." "Well, have thy way," said the trader, "I would send thee to sleep with whips if she was not dying. But as it is, Bael cannot say that I stood against his- fire even with catjtle like thee and thy light jo' love, s©: come." "it is well,' said Zala calmly, aud he followed the trader.. In a. smaller eabin lay little Zoe, while near- her wutthed the woman who had mocked her that day.. She was not in afty acttial physical discom fort, for the Superstitious reverence of that? day for. the. beauty .of love even on the .cruel, slave alivp, added to the trader's hope of saving a valuable bar gain, had iyade him comply at last with the child's -piteous appeals' for Z«ila. The-one name was coining from her lips over and 'o'ver again, even as her lover entered tl^. .narrow place. "Zala! Zala! Zata!" With. a savage gesture Zala took the attendant by the shoulder aijd-sent:her cowering out of" the door. The trader, suddenly grown tuman, turned and went, leaving them together. "My love, my child, my.sweet!" Zoe came back from dark wanderings to the gbund of Zala's voice, and he for got that he was working in the Phoeni cian's interest, nol his own, when he tried to hold her' bafck from the shadow—and the Phoenician, with his. dark racial knowledge of human na ture and human passion let them alone, save that he gave Zala all he asked for. But- there' came a calm Starlit night when Zoe had seemed, stronger for. a little while, only Zala knew, with the strange knowledge of his time, that it was the last flicker of the fire of life before it. went—-else where. The starlight shone into the place where they lay. Zoe was strok ing his face with her thin little hand. "It is better so, most dear," she whis pered. "It would have troubled the$ fo part with ma and—it would hav-s broken my heart. The gods have bee very good. I have had a happy lite, and here have I had thy love. Is \t not best that we do not part and be cause I am thine?" Zala could not say it was not beat. To have Zoe torn from him at the end would have been even harder to beir than this. Zala was bought for the king's sc.v ice, and one day the two met face to face. The Sycthian had come with a message to where the young conqueror sat planning red destruction for the Picts. He looked at Zala as the latter rcse from a proud, impassive obei sance. "Thou hast not always been a slave?" said the-kta|g suddenly. "No," said Zala. "Once, long ago, I was a prince of the Scythians." "Long ago?" said the king. "Why, thou art young, younger than I." "Ay, but my heart is old," said Zala, with a smile that was sadder than any tears. The king turned restlessly on his great golden chair. "Was it love?" he said coldly, as one wiio asks a rid dle. "It was love," said Zala, and told him all to the end, for he saw a shadow in the Milesian's dark eyes that was as the reflection of the shadow in his own soul. The king drew parchment toward him and wrote what Zala thought was an an swer to the message he had brought. "Yet he understood," thought the Scy thian as he waited with bent head while the king stamped the letter with the ring he wore. He looked at Zala and again their eyes met. The king spoke briefly. "There is a Phoenician galley in the harbor. Take, this to the captain and say thou art to have safe passage homeward. He will take thee safe or his life pays the forfeit. Thus have I written, so he will guard thee with his life. My mother was a Tyrian, therefore, they love me, also fear me, which is better, sometimes. Now go —nay, thank me not, I would keep thee, but I have lost even as thou hast lost. Farewell!" Thus a Scythian prince regained his home and his rights. But love he never knew truly again, because for him it lay hidden in the far Ictian sea. Best Medicine Is 81eep. The best nerve food in the world' is sleep. Good, sound, refreshing sleep will- do more to replenish the nerve centers and build up a fagged brain than anything that can be devised. Nervous people ought to cultivate .the practice of sleeping after dinner. A short nap after the noon meal will strengthen the nerves, and make it much more liable that the rest of the day will be spent in some' sort of comfort* Origin of the Mennenites. The Mennonites grew -out of tour sects of Dutch: Flemish and Gennan Baptists. They derive their, name from Menao Simons, a Catholic prieet {Who became a-leader of the Anabaptist^.in about -1537. Simons was bora In 1492 and died in'1537. His "True Christian Belief: was" published three yean be^ fore his death. Following the'deati of the leading spirit the sect underwent divisions and changes of ereed. Tom Reed's insinuation. Once when Thomas B._ Reed ^aa with the late Senator Woloott of Colo rado and Joseph Choate, Mr. Choate, when asked to take a drink, said that he never drank, never smoked to excels, and never gambled in his life, wil cott, who was a sinner in every oie of these lines, looked pathetically Reed and. said: "I wish I could that." "Say it," said Reed "Choai did." Curious Trail dome women are willing to almost nothing on the stage so thai they may appear in line clothes of the stage. STRONG ioTOim oF mvrcmY. Examples of Mixed Metaphors Calcu lated to Cause a Snrfile. An amateur historian is responsible for this: "All alo'ng the ever flowing stream of history you can discern the silent footprints of the .crowned heads of Europe!" The village reporter*-on'the death of the village poet: '"That dauntless pen shall write no more, for its eyes are closed forev^fc!" From the "Speech of a rising1 young politician: "The. ..fierce light of pub lic opinion shalC.dQg. their footsteps until it strangles them. Then shall they swallow the bitter pill and-drink its very dregs." Advice and warning from a success ful man of business to a gathering of young people? "Every rung in the lad der of success is paved with slippery stones, on which only. th,e clear head and The steady hand can retain their footing!" Tho tearless suffragette was address ing a= meeting of'tfiei'e meii- She hail graphically-related-to them the" fasci nating 'story -of the" strefraou?.,stnigg&. the ladies' had made'jfor "that most, priceless* of possessions, a ..vote^rhow every obstacle, had -been conquered and victory was at last in sight. ". .A jjusy-Hpii4ay.. "Naw,"I don't think Timmyil bt staying long on this new job he's tool' up wid," said -Mrs. Herlihy. '"'Tis ton harrd: feir him. Sure he gets no rist at all from Monda' mornin' till Sath urda- night, and''tis\not.. what, the man's used to." "He has his Sundays to rist in," haz arded the cajler, h°lclly "An' what o' .that?" said Mrs. Her lihy/. "On-Sunda's he has to: go to church, an* take the children to theil grandmamma's, an' visit' wid1 hie cooslns anv all—'tis no rist ait ail." "Twas wan day out of ivery fortnlt he had wid the ould job, wa'nt it?': queried the caller. "It" was," said Mrs. Herlihy, "an' 'twas a grand vacation he had. I'd saTe ivery bit o' the washin', an' he'd wring it out fine, an' hang it on the line for me thin he'd saw an' shplit wood enough to last till tho nixt vaca tion day, an' he'd bate ivery mat in the house an' shine up tbe faucets an' the b'iler, an' wash the windys, an' there'd always be some little exthra help, dririn' nails or the like, he cud give me. "An* whin he'd go to bed at night Le'd niver fail to say to me: 'Well, Celia, my vacation day is over, but 1 feel like it's made me ready to go back to wurrk to-morrer,' he' 1 say."— Youth's Companion. Sinners All. I fall, into temptations incident to my profession. I commit only the crimes that are required in my pro on I it he I think that the clergy would be doing a big service should they take their congregations and know them and the temptations of the men, and th3 professions that are represented there and when they find a banker dees this thing, know enough about banking to know whether it is real banking or whether it is "financing," and then when they know that, find out how this thing compares with what other men do. Let the man go on committing his sin and take his burden of it, -but help him to see that we are all doing it to gether, that it is a system that it is true he must do these things, and then prepare his mind for the' time when an attempt will be made to change it all, and then tell him to be ready to make the sacrifice with the rest of us.—Lincoln Steffens' Address Before Boston Universalist Clergy men. A Time Charge. A benevolent New Yorker recently employed two* girls to do a special piece of work in his office. When it was completed he found that one girl, being expert,, had done a great deal more than the other one. Being un certain what he ought to pay them he decided to leave that question to them. The expert girl set her price and, to his amazement, the other girl charged considerably more. "How is that?" he asked. "Miss Swift charges me a great deal less than you do for the same, aimount. ol. work." "Certainly," reasoned Miss Young, "it took me a great deal longer to'do it than it did her. I ought to be paid for my time, oughtn't I?" The benevolent New Yorker re flected, murmured something/ about her manifest qualifications for the. plumbing, business, and finally compro mised with them both by a sagacious deal in candy. Thieves Plunder Police Lockers. Thieves broke into the New York criminal courts 4uUdiBg and stofe sev eral uniforms and revolvers from the police lockers. The court squad, num bering 30 men, was dismissed at six o'clock the evening .before. Most of .them left their court uniforms and re volvers -in. their lockers. When the policemen returned at two o'clock next morning they missed their property. "Talk about bearding a lion in his den," said one of thiem. "I guess some body nhaved .us, and I wish I had the barber. ItV lucky that we weren't here^ or our pockets might have been picked." A Tabloid Fable. A Man once collided with an Qppor-' tunity. "Why don't you look where you are going?" growled the Man. "Don't yew reeegniee me asked the Opportunity, pleasantly. "Np. and'I don't care to. You hay? trodden PA &y crauf," nepliad the Man, as helimped^iway. -4' uWe" have now," she shrieked, "almost crossed .the -trackless- desert aud" tlie. harbor lights-are stretching out their, arms to greet us!" The temperance" advocate was gi-v ing a striking but ctrue picture .of tiro vast amount of evil wrought $y the demon of drink. -"What is the great est devastating agent of our ti ae?" he asked.. "It is -the bottle, whicl smiles genially before your face. -whilb. at the .same lime it is stubbing you the back!" It# 5 -Moiai: IJon't heUeve tfce jeople ^bo say they have never had chance. POPULAR COMEDIENNE A It*" Marie Cahill, Now Praying in "The Bpys and Betty,'? at the Co/cnial The iter, Chicago. THE GERMAN "JOE JEFFERSON." 6Q0D ADVICE FOR M&VICE3. Konrad Dreher Has Only to Look at His Audience to Make Them Roar Konrad Dreher, the "Joe" Jefferson oi' Germany, royal Bavarian court' ac tor, and known as "the man who makes the kaiser laugh," is just now playing an engagement in New York city. A man tall above the average, huge of build, big noued, with a merry mouth and eyes that sparkle when he speaks, and brimful of deviltry when he laughs, that is Konrad Dreher. He is not only an actor, but he likes bast to be called "Herr. Direktor," for he is the founder father and active manager of the lamous "Schlierseer Bauerntheater," a company composed of Bavarian peasants, who have been organized by Drehr into one of the best ensemble troupes in Germany. Konrad Dreher undoubtedly owes his unique success to his quaint person ality personal magnetism fairly oozes out of him. What are Dreher's methods of act ing? He seems to have none-—at 16as^ no one has, as yet, been able to de scribe them. He uses few gestures in his acting, and he as cheerfully stands at the rear as in the front cen ter of the scene. He simply comes on Lhe stage, looks at his audience, smiles at them, and there is a roar of laugh ter. He has conquered his audience before he has uttered a word. When he does speak, his voice is simple and unaffected. Herr Dreher was one of the inti mates of the iron chancellor, Prince Bismarck. He is the only actor-friend of Emperor William, and when the kaiser is worn out by affaire of state, overworked and tired, then he calls for Dreher to cheer him up. It is then that the Bavarian comedian is more important than dignitaries and secre taries of state, for he is "the man who makes the kaiser laugh." Dreher does not care a bit whether he per forms before his majesty the kaiser or before his majesty the people. He is at home in the drawing rooms of queens and in the studios of his artist friends, of whom the great Lenbach Is one and has painted the actor's portrait. Time of No Importance. Miss Maude Fulton, recently playing In London, surprised even British sto lidity into a laugh now and then. This |s one she told just before she sailed: A stranger, she related, was riding through, the West Virginia mountains 6rhen he came up with a man .who Was leisurely driving a herd of pigs. |The stranger asked the man where he Was taking the pigs. "Out to pasture 'em," said the mountaineer. "What for?" inquired the curious traveler. "To fatten 'em," the man replied. "But Isn't it pretty slow work to fatten them on .grass? Up where I come from we pen them up and feed them on Corn. It saves a lot of time." The mountaineer shifted his plug to the other side of his jaw. "Ya-as, I s'pose -so,"' he drawled, "but what's time to a hawg?" Eya Tanguay has written a book whihe will be published in March. It is entitled "A Thousand Loves." Dorothy Donnelly is to star next season in a play written for her by Henry Mawson. Henry Arthur Jones' play, "Doily Re forming Herself," is drawing-crowded 4touaeat in London. Miss Willette Kershaw has been en gaged for the leading feminine part in' *TOe Battle," with Wilton Lackayer Booih TarkiagfcHMuwl Harry L. W11& ao&'s new .play for^QUs statu an actor, an actrass aad a sfteh young man bHnded by tlte tiniest glor? of the stace. Essentials for Success on the Stage, According to Viola Alien.' GOSSIP OF THE STAGE Henry E. Dixey is writing his memoirs. Frederick Warde intends to lecture on "Shakespeare and His Plays." William Gillette expects to ,go to Australia at the end of the season. E. H. Sothern has added "Richelieu" to his repertory while. in California. After an absence of three years, Eva Davenport is to return to the stage In "Havana." "It may appear ungracigus in Jber*" woman who has attained what ie called 'success' upon the stage to with hold from the novice any knowle:dge that will set her in the right direc tion," says Viola Allen. "Let the girl who desires to go upon the stage be sure that nature has stajted her on the road that sae is equipped at the outset with tem erament, good healtft, a pleasing voicu, a quid: and reaay sympathy, plenty of courage and do termination, and at least a fair share of personal attractions. "Absolute beauty is not necessary, though few cijn deny that it is desir able. But there must always be about the. actress «hu hopes for success a general air which pleases and satisfies the spectator. Moreover, to these nat ural qualifications there should with out doubt b-i added some advantages^ tf educatoa and accomplishments?' without wh\ch the struggle will be an unequal one. "Then comes the question of special training for the stage, in which the practical knowledge of proper use of the voice takes foremost place. This may he gained from the dramatic schools or instructors and sometimes through actual experience. The first engagement is often ob tained through talent shown in the. training school performance. "Another course is to apply to the various managers and dramatic agents. Only one who has attempted this can realize its difficulties. Even when th* applicant is successful in obtaining an interview the result is frequently very discouraging. "The final resort, however, is what is called 'going on as an extra'— which nutans being one of a crowd of others in a scene, often having indi vidual EtJige business, but seldom be ing called upon to speak a line alone. Having a line to speak is a long step forward. To this is sometimes added the chance of being made understudy for some more or less important part. If good Dame Fortune smiles it may lead to opportunity, and to be ready for the chance whenever it comes and to take advantage of it—therein 'lies the greatest hope -of the beginner." Necessary to Great Acting. "Experience will teach th* actor that, it is impossible to play a.part well and think Of outside matters," declares Kyrle Bellew, "and a fault equally great' and equally common is the habit of beginners who try to live the part. A great actress like.Duse, or Bernhardt, or Mrs. Campbell will emerge from -Paula Tanqueray's ^suf cide .or Camille's pulmonary' death with infinite calm. Directly a .great artist reaches the wings Of the stage he has left his portrayal to the audi ence. It is, however, necessary for an actor to feel deeply in-order to under- stand the intricate phases -of life he is asked to reproduce. To .make love on the stage propeYly it is necessary to have, been in love." Harry ^Woodi'ijff has made: a: hit-tn musical comedy and he may remain in that field in preference to the. legiti mate. Clyde Fitch's latest comedy, "The Happy -Marriage," will be produced in London, with Mary Moore and Sir Charles Wyndham in the leading roles. Charles Grapewin has accepted a new play, entitled "A Brave Coward," by J. Stacy Hill and Thomas Addison, for .performance in' the spring. WiHiamFaversham's new piay.Th* Barber of New Orleans," has been novelized by the Author, Edwarlj Childs Carpenter, and is being issued in book form now. Henry B. Harris recently appointed Valentine E. Kennedy, formerly busi ness manager of "The Third Degree" company, to be manager of tbe Hud son theater, New Yotk. Alexander -Biason** play, "la Femme," in which Mm3. JaPKbiI*ding has Jjeen. appearing in -heeii secured by Henry ^W., Sarage, who will produce it in this aountry next'season. JL '•HI ue 'a 'r- f.