A VISION OF THE STAGE

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXX, Issue 69, 9 September 1904, Page 2

A VISION OF THE STAGE

J By HOWARD DfiVINE

(OppyrtEM, MOB, by DeJJy Story P»b. Oo.) IP Paul Gomatock had not been an ! I unusually sober-minded and earnest young man he never would have become inrolved in the affair with the actress. Had he be?n inclined to nporty iceaa and hankerings for •'green-room escapades" and "affairs" with belles of the stage, such as afflict so many otherwise normal young fellows, he never would have become entagled with Viola Markham, and certainly never would have given Podger* Corners such a shock as he | did. * '. Paul grew up a very commonplace sort of boy. He was steady, industrious and saving. Everybody about : Podgers Corners agreed that he was ' a model boy — only some insisted he was not overly bright. But others j said it was only lack of imagination. ! Of that you may judgs later. He accomplished a great deal in his slow, methodical manner, however, and by the time he was In the early twenties had cleared the cumbersome indebtedness from the farm left by his father when he and his sister were mere children, and improved the property until it was one of the model farms in the vicinity. When his sister married he divided the farm so as to leave the homestead in her part j and after that he lived with her and began to add to his own acres. He never had felt a desire to live in the "city," nor even to go there. He moved contentedly in his little sphere, his only extravagance being books, and he grew to be a- stalwart, hard-handed, sun-burned son of the soil. When it became necessary for Mm : \ to go to the city to fix up some dis- : | puted matters with the firm to which he sold a large part of hia produce, he regarded the event with dread. It was largely because of his sister's repeated admonitions that Paul ! determined to visit a theater. He had I only partially completed his business and had to stay over another day, \ anyway. So he found himself facing the footlights from a balcony seat, and mentally clubbing himself for j wasting 75 cents in so scandalous a 1 manner. j Just then the curtain went up [ and a moment later Paul Comstock ; was plunged into a new world. He \ had never seen a play before and the ! scene before him was as real as life, j He sat, leaning forward, with half- | parted lips, drinking in the panorama J before him. It was all so new, so j altogether wonderful that he ruboed his eyes to see if it were not a dream. His interest quickly centered in the vivacious soubrette who played the ingenue. She was a merry little blond and had a very good part as a sweet and guileless maiden who solved everybody's troubles and circumvented the burly, black-mus-taehed villain, despite the most alluring temptations. Paul Comstock thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such human perfection. As a matter of fact, he had thought little about women. Romance had thus far had no place in his life or mind. He had seen only the plain, simple girls of his neighborhood with only their rural attire and taste to enhance their natural charms. He knew nothing of the art of stage "make-up," and to him this glorious creature behind the footlights was just what she appeared — both in appearance and character. When the curtain went down on the first act he sought out her name on the programme. It was "Viola Markham." Each succeeding act added to his cntrancement. When the end came he sighed deeply and stumbled from the theater. He went home next day ben ring in his innermost heart the vision of a golden-haired, blue-eyed divinity all smiles and f;race — a ray of sunshine w.hieh thereafter warmed and stimulated his lonesome life. He built air castles, of which she was a part, by day and dreamed of her by night. He lived on his lonely life very much the same as of old. but a new element had come into it. He had built a shrine and placed therein a memory. A year or more later he saw a paragraph in a newspaper which startled him as he had never been startled before. It read: "A benefit performance will be given Saturday afternoon at the Lyceum for Viola Markham, who has been doing ingenue parts in wellknown companies fcr some years, and who has been seriously ill. Miss Murkham does not improve as rapidt ly as hoped and the physicians say it is absolutely for her to give up all thought of work and seek resolute rest and quiet and country air for a long season. Her friends hope to realize enough by the benefit performance to enable her to do this." x*a ul's heart Brink as he read, and he marveled greatly that so fair a divinity should not have leg-ions of powerful friends who would jump at the chance to aid her in distress, and ; it was incomprehensible to him. The idea of her being. ill and poor distressed bim beyond measure. And when, a wsek later, he read that the benefit had been only partially successful and realized far from suilicient funds to send Miss Markham to the country, and further that the physicians feared she would Jfve hnt ' ' — ■" " j * *~" J

pure air, his heart flamed with fierce | resentment against the col '. unap- ■ probative world that would let its ! brightest flower fade and die for want of a few paltry dollars. !. Then there came into Paul's soul and heart and mind a great resolution. He would succor her himself. It was a bold thought and he shrunk abashed as he contemplated the great honor to which he aspired. But he never faltered. He went to the city ' again — to the great surprise of his j sister, and sought out the address of j Viola Markham. He was shocked at j the squalor of the third rate hotel, j He did not attempt to approach the divinity herself, but learned from the clerk the name of her physician. To him Paul went and stated that some of Mis* Markhain's friends had raised a purse to send her to the country and had arranged with his sister, Mrs. Bingham, at Podgers Corners, to keep her as long as might be necessary. He left a ticket for Podgers Corners and a sum of money with the physician and asked him to send the patient, explaining that the friends preferred to remain unknown. Then Paul went home and arranged it with his sister, explaining- that he had accidentally met a person desiring to send an invalid to the country and he had agreed for Mrs. Bingham to take her for a weekly stipend of $5. So it happened that Viola Markham, pale, thin and haggard from disease and dissipation, came to Podgers Corners, wondering who the "nngei" could be. but exceedingly glad for "any port in a storm." Paul met her with a carriage, all in a nutter and, w.hile cognizant of the great difference between this holloweyed, anaemic creature and the lrvly of his dreams, attributed it all to her illness. Week after week Paul handed hia sister the board money for the actress, telling her it was sent him from New York, and week nfter week the invalid improved. The roundness came back to her face and her emaciated body and the color began to play again in the wan cheeks. She never had known a life like that before — so ■ quiet, so peaceful, so restful. Paul reveled in her presence and the power of his own ideality invested her with all the attributes of the ; lady of his. dreams. He taught her : many ways to enjoy the country and ; she told him many wonderful stories I of stageland. One day wJien she felt nearly well 1 enough to return to her work she i pressed him to knrswr from whence : came the funds for her outing. He i evaded her and, being a transparent i simpleton, and she ultra worldlyi wise, she guessed the truth and mar- ; veled greatly, She had had many adj mirers not at all loth to pay well for ! her smiles, but th? motives of this ' simple-hearted country lad, who had I asked nothing, presumed nothing, | mystified her. Curious to know, she charged him with the truth and sought the reason. With naming cheeks he stuttered forth an evasion and, being caught in a lie, told her in honest, manly fashion the story of his heart of heart*. It was a new story to her and he was a new type. From the hot-house life of sordidness she had known to the rugged honesty and self-sacrificing ideality of this simple farmer was a far reach. When he had finished he added in a manly fashion: "I know I ain't a fit mnte for you, Miss Markham, but if you would let me care for you always it would be my only chance of happiness in the world." She turned very pale and grave. "You do not realize what my life has been — what the stage life is," she said. "I do not care," he said eagerly, "if you can give it up." She gazed long and thoughtfully over the peaceful meadows to the woody hills among which ran the sparkling creek she knew so well. She drew in her lungs' fill of the crisp air laden w.ith the scent of new-mown hay. She looked into -the clear, pray eyes, so full of admiration and awe — and then thought <-f Hie squalid, illsmelling hotels, the stuffy dressing rooms, the paints and powder and pads, the n-larish lights, the feverish e\-'-i<e;nrnt. the coarse jests, the leerin ;■ f;u".> = , ;he feverish pleasures from c(vl-: toils to headaches, and a great ('."m'vp came over her to stay there, whore it was all so peaceful, but she must be honest with this honest man. "But you must know that my life has not been as these countrj' girls," she said. "T only know that you are good and beautiful." he burst in. "Tf I did not believe that I should die." Then she knew tlir.t to disabuse his mind -would be to rob him of his own dreams. She pondered for a long time; then smiling faintly into his eager face, said: "If you want me juat as I am, take me." Then a great joy filled Paul's breast j and. a gpreat wonder filled his mind, j Later on great excitement filled Podgers Corners, for Paul Comstock had "been and gone and married an actress woman." And to Paul she was always the golden-haired vision of the stage. ; Hew Variety of Summer. Evidently the weather man has grown tired of hearing about the good old summer time, says the Chicago Tribune, and has decided to introduce a new variety of summer. Woman's Opportunity. The women editors, says the Chicago Record-Herald, should not overlook the r'ory concerning the Illinois man who talked himself to death. Regrnlatingr Antomobilen. In Leipsic, Germany, automobiles are prohibited in the inner city and limited toiireets traversed by electric cars elsewiiere. _ i

Latent Tferrm from Boolcla»«l. "The Mara with the Hoe" is "Looking Backward" at 'lobert Ellsmere" and "Trilby" and wondering if "Aliceof Old Vincennes" ia going "To Have and to Hold" 'her own as long as "Richard Carvel" and "Janice Meredith" and "David Harum" did, while 'The Gentleman from Inddaraa" is sadilly signing 'Wh«n. he thinks of the days "When Knighthood' Was im Flower" down at "Red Rock" and "The. Choir Invisible" sang "Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush." — Chicago Times-He-rald. The Only Cure. Amateur Tenor^ (who has been abroad) — Ah, my man, you are an eye doctor, I understand! Oculist — I am an oculist, sir. Amateur Tenor— Well, what I want to know is whether mere is any way to prevent the eyes from filling with water while singing; oculist— None that I know of, except to steel your heart, against the sufferings of the audience. — N. Y. World. No Need to "Worry. "My good man," said the earnest reformer to the misguided man who was tarrying but little between flow- ; i:;g bow ls». "my good man, you should i cense this unseemlj' carousing". You ; are in danger of an attack of delirium tremens." "Thash all ri\" answered the misguided person. "Don't you worry, ol" fel'. I'm shnake charmer by p'fshun." -—Baltimore American. A Dreadful Blunder. Mr. Jinks — You look all broke up. Mrs. Jinks — I am. It just makes me ; sick to think what a fool I've been. You know that commonplace little dowdy next door that I've been snubbing- so? "Yes." "Well, I've just fiound out that her husband gets five dollars more a month than you do." — N. Y. Weekly. Won Out at Some Expense. Mr. ITauskeeip — My wife broke a fairy-lamp, two vases and a cut-g\ass ilower-stand in the drawing-room last night, but she accomplished her purpose. Mr. Ascumr— For.good.n-. ss' sake, what was her purpose? Mr. Hauskeep— To capture a clothes nioth she saw flying around. — Answers. Dnnprerß of Science. The Professor's Wife — The professor is in the laboratory conduct:ngso7iie chemical exp-.-ri :r c:i! s. The professor expects lo go <lnwn to posterity— (From the laboratory) Br-r-r-ff-r. 15ang! The Visitor — I hop-e the professor hasn't gone. — Harlem Life. Hnsn't Changed His Mfn«l. Phyllis-— Before nvirria'tre he was all the time telling- me I was good enough to eat. Patrice — And since marriage has ho changed ? "Well, no; I g-uess he thinks the same yet. He's picking at me all the time/' — Yonkcirs' ftt a t esnian. Couldn't Ilelieve It. "You see a great deal in the newspapers that you can't believe," remarked Mr. Me-ek ton's wife. "I know it, Henrietta," was the anfAver. "For instance, here is another one of these stories about a man who makes fun of his wife's cooking." — Washington Star. Rank Selflshnes*. Clara — I hear, Carrie, that you have refused Frank Swetzer. Carrie — I had to do it. He is so selfish, you know. He told me he could not live without me. Just thinking of himself, you see. — Boston Transcript.