Judge — February 9, 1884 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SURELY THE EPISTLE Oh dear, Lam so put out. professor has been endeavorin F opening” for me as he calls it, but those hor- anagers wont have it. Only think of rago than yesterday one of them vin. ee at; told him “Shakespeare is played ont.” The wretch! and another quite not infinitely worsc “What! an amateur, and in Shakespeare too, do you take me for a lunatic? I take him fo: rude unfeeling bear and that is what he is, No more at this time, better news in my next I hope. as bad, if EPISTLE VII, I wrote you last in a fit of the The dear old Professor has found a for me to thwart those horrid mar ea theatre and be my own manager. rs are to | ned to- day. he afternoon newspapers have it, “further particulars in our next edition,” eee blue EPISTLE IX. r, Lam up to my ears er was so busy in all the world, have 1 the the: for one week with the privile Have also secured a man- r, can’t say that I like him very well, his whiskers are dyed, and he is fragrant with the odor of tobacco, cloves and liquor. But the Professor who knows everything says, “he is the best in the business.” ‘The dear old man knows everything. The folks are half crazy, the house is overrun wigh artists, printers and n¢ wspaper men. 1 have been Interviewed three times, and no less than a score of representatives of the press have alled to solicit advertisements. This latter class I have referred to my manager. * n de: in we EPISTLE X. You have no idea, m: what a stream of money has heen g since I embarked in this double adebut and the: rs there was the rent of the theatre to pay in advance, and it seems as though there would be no end to the demand for money. Tam 80 inexperienced in such matters that I trust it all implicitly to the Professor and my manager. [ have had my photograph taken in as many as twenty positions, You know I make my debut as Sutiets or did’nt I tell et ait dear, ng out venture of ulation. — First MAN'S FEELINGS ARE HURT. an’t recollect whether I told you_or nushould just see my wardrobe. We al people don’t say dre wardrobe. 1am to have a lith a three-sheet poster in character, very costly, but very 1 ry. EPISTLE IX. I send you by this post a de- scription of my wardrobe in the Dramatic Record. My litho sare in all the shop window { gav yg the other n | toa select purty of journs they seem | highly del ned tothe er | except one in, who exensed hin on the “he had to report dog ti r, from Shakespeare to I would not be a journalist for the world. EPISTLE XU. night IT make my debut, more like going to my bed and remaining there. What with con- stan rehearsals and the anxieties attendant upon my novel position, T have had neither time to cat or sleep. I feel more like a criminal who is about to be led to the scaf- fold. The hour of the execution approaches, and it will soon be over. I will write you the result to-morrow. a but I confe: EPISTLE NUL. “Open confession is good for the soul.” I “attempted to fly before I was out of my nest.” misjudging the strength of my wings. ‘The old manager was right, when one falls from the top of the ladder, tis the fall. Tam brat and sore in spirit, T have not only been bled in the heart, but in the pocket. [ dare not mail you cop- ies of the papers, the critics were too ernel, they have literally “torn me to pieces.” The kindliest of them all was bad enough, he wrot ‘or one thing the the attendance w ter it could but ha’ ion. The Professor and my manager have come and gone, I want tosee them no more. On the theatre door is the following notice: “This Theatre will remain closed for the balance of the week on account of the illness of the star.” ‘That is true, [am the pirant can be thank- meagre, had it been ded to her morti- ful, gre fi sickest woman in to you in the mntry, where I shall remain until my dreadful failure blows over. There mnomy in that too, for my bank account has been sadly depleted. Every time the door bell rings I know that it is a bill, and the end is not yet. It is an expensive luxury to be ENING. is ‘Tue Stan or tHe E It Makes a Difference. So you have been fi ain on your “Did'nt tl tell you that this Sort of busi- ness had g You probably provoked + not Ile called me names!” When a boy calls you names walk Take off that coat! “But he did me names!” Jh he didn’t » off that vest, sir, at When he called me names I never looked at him, but when he pitched into. you I—I | Shat! Did he call me ots of em, father! He your constituents, and went bi and had—! William, put on your coat and don’t want you to come up a slugger, 3 wish you tostand well with your teacher, n lick that boy who says T ever ur nomination, or went back on ward, don’t be afraid to sail change. an id you lied to “kon the cau vest. 1 nd 1 bolte The Amateur. Or all the living beings that inhabit the heavens above, the earth beneath, or the waters under the easth, there is none so ily detested by the professional man amateur in his own especial If one desires to di of the powers of invective and vituperation of whic r follower of art is capable, he has only to incite him to deliver his frank and complete opinion of those who follow his craft } amusement and reereation, and especially should the speaker chance recently to have been brought into contact with one of these dilleta will the earth and sky be likel ly to tremble beneath the vig- orons denun Ask, for instance, a thoroughly trained actor how he likes. the ateur players with whom he has been reed to perform for some fashionable ben fit; the painter, what may be his candid opin- ion of the yourg lady whose untrained handi- work he i 1 Called upon to praise; the musician, whether he is prepared cordially to endorse the execution of the self. mongers who talk to him comy ing a few lessons ‘to finish off, you will be likely to acquire some not w adequate idea of the profe cling wards the amateur. Defroit Chaff. rch o} science ‘over the extent 3 be To nave your boots blacked by a porter, | a full-grown'man, who looks as though he had more sense than half the aldermen, and then go and put your life in the hands of a shrimp of a boy in charge of the elevator, does not make a hotel guest feel very con- tented. The average elevator boy is think- ill the time of how long it will be be- fore he gets off watch, so he can go skating, and he does not think of the lives he holds in his hands.— Pee: ing comicbooks.com