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Show a Bl j acting. I uciciult. the Actor, Author and Uriel His Scho1 for . II Actors and Actresses.' ; ' IN'ES:' LoEKIO1 0F A-FEMALE. -van,; I jcomb Faints a Charming Pen nr9 of the Youthful Old Actor I" and His Pupils. 'fa' rTt"nr- Sept. 8,-WhisDRrint? s. " land6Hiotherea laughter in an al-I al-I BPtv theatre; rows of youthful L which the flaring bunch light Ax I, joftening glamour; a stage par-fiismsntled, par-fiismsntled, with a business like L one side strewn with play books t 1)11 call, where Bat a slender, pale M Ivoung man busily writing. This the Palmer-Boucicault School of r doling one of its afternoon ses- I master had not yet arrived. L I extremely pretty girl who was f I Juliet's garden scene "dead, let-Meet" let-Meet" from a dog eared play book flip, whispered over a companion's Kelt Is nearly 3 o'clock. I'm afraid Mr. Icault isn't coming Oh, here he to, I n was a burst of soft applause I a gjore of gloved hands, and then 9 I hranored voice, rich with a very ' I rolling Irish accent, exclaimed: lod afternoon, ladies and gentle-I gentle-I I'm a little late, but you'll eicuse 5- I know. I was having my picture L was rewarded by gay exclama-(anii exclama-(anii laughter, not that the words I I so fonny, but- because they were I L in Boucicault's inimitable way I, self satisfied, half apologetic (ind lonfiding. As he stood on the stage le white glare of the bunch light tng in his inconsequent, witty f ash-made ash-made a mental sketch of him. I was a striking figure. A man h 70 years of age, yet more grace-P grace-P Id light of foot than a boy. '' From t to toe he looked the rover, the I to Bohemian, and not at all a typi-lewYorloer. typi-lewYorloer. i, I ht, loose trousers, almost cream , I in cobr, fell, like a sailor's, well pi dainty gaiters, for his foot is as ' I as a woman's. A long, tightly Ined coat of the same color reached I knees. He never wears a scarf of fort, and his high collar was roll ro-ll only by a large,, pure diamond, jeld a soft felt hat, cafe au lait in , in his right hand. So much for Eiite silky hair a little longer than jashionable code allows falls from a I crown. His features are small and late, his skin of remarkable smooth- land fairness. Only a slight hollow k cheeks, the dimness of his eyes ps snowy hair proclaim his age, la place, Ton have commenced one of that your boots pinched " and of all his plays "Hamlet" the bt To hear those glorious lines murdered theynSand ma that thrilled The words poured passionately from his hps, his face grew pale from actual fading, sometimes he clasped his hands sometimes his head, and when at ks ' after he had bared his heart in the Tawl the 1 nut of despair in the hushed, halt-'"rfh5'"Bot halt-'"rfh5'"Bot bm my heart-lfor I must hold my tongue," he was on his 1 ?mS- The effect electrical. WTien he rose, winking back the tears, his impatience was entirely gone. He laid his hand on the youth's shoulder. 'My boy, Hamlet never gave voice to such agony with his hand thrust into his breast. Ah, no! You can't pby 'Hamlet 'Ham-let now ou can't even approach it in the smallest degree. Years hence, when you have suffered a hi yourself, you'll see what is needed, and you'll realize how far below that inimitable creation the best of us laust fall. But," he added gayly, "don't be discouraged-not a bit not a bit-Kih, dear me, no! If I thought you deyer make a tragedian I'd let you practice on 'Hamlet;' but you won't, simply because its not your line. Stick to comedy, my boy, stick to comedy." And so on through the afternoon's programme pro-gramme he corrected and molded with a master hand. "Watch that girl," he said to me a little later; "see how she wriggles from one foot to the other as 6he walks. I call her 'Wires. See here," he called to her, "that will never do. Can't you keep those legs of yours still?' , "I try to, Mr. Boucicanlt," she said, with a sigh like a mother speaking of a refractory child: "hut it's no use the v won't." , "You talk as if they didn't belong to you, and went capering off by them-, them-, selves," he exclaimed, and amid a gust " Of laughter from the pupils "Wires" wriggled off. "By the way, it's astonishing how few women nowadays carry themselves well," he said thoughtfully. "It almost seems as if a graceful walk is a lost art. Everything in nftture has such a perfect flow and swing you'd think a clever, adaptive creature like a woman would learn by observation. The velvety movements move-ments of a cat, for example, ought to come natural to your sex." "And why, pray?" He- lay back in the chair, the extreme tips of the fingers of both hands just meeting. "During my long life I haven't gone about with my eyes shut," he said with a touch of humorous cynicism. "Depend "De-pend npon it, my child, a cat and a wo man have many traits in common. They are both soft and cruel.' A woman's love for perfumes and laces is identical with a cat's for sunshine and a downy rug. A cat wheedles its prey; so does a woman. A cat tortures it in the most delicate fashion; what could be more womanlike? You know with what feline softness youll level a itoine' thrust "at arrival and smile sweetly on her discomfiture? Well, there you are. But in the matter of grace oh, no. Just as the smooth flowing flow-ing of a river, the bending of a tree in the wind, the flight of a swallow, aro full of rhythm, so man should be, and was originally, but with civilization ha has lost it. Women are even more ungraceful un-graceful than men because of the ugly fashions they permit to confine their bodies bod-ies and hamper their movements. Would you have a model of grace? Go and study the panther in his cage in Central park." But it is m speaiang or tne past tnai Boucicault is at his best. His reminiscences reminis-cences of Rachel, Neilson, Vestris, Koaa, Kemble, Macready, Sothorn and many others make those dead and gone favorites favor-ites live again for the moment all fire, pathos or humor. Of his many plays "London Assurance" Assur-ance" is the one nearest his heart. Even its faults, which later experience has shown him, only make it more dear, it was his first born. The day before its presentation in London in 1841 he was an obscure, desolate, penniless Irish boy, the day after he was a personage. How he, an unknown scribbler, brought the play to Charles Mathews, not daring to hope for its acceptance; how it pleased the great actor beyond his wildest dreams, how during its first presentation before a critical audience he sat shivering in the rain on Waterloo bridge, fearing to return to the theatre and learn the worst or best: and how at length venturiug back he found the audience au-dience calling for the author, the pit boiling over with enthusiasm and the actors searching for him everywhere, is an old, fascinating story that loses nothing noth-ing by repetition. "And this was forty-eight years ago, said Boucicault, in a far away voice. "Ah, me! But the heart and brain do not grow old, and whan I recall those events, those faces, I feel their hands in mine, I see their smiles, I hear their voices, I am 18 again." Evelyn Malcolm. I DION BOUCTCACLT. ' iraceful gait, broad, straight shoul-land shoul-land light colored clothes, there is Ithing positively spring like. Fent on the stage and told him Td I to have a chat with him between fit down, my child," he said gra-p; gra-p; "If there's anything I hate it's m still; if there's anything I'm of it's the sound of my own voice." most brilliant Irishmen who I reduced flattery to a fine art, Mr. licault has a negligent, yet endear-ray endear-ray of addressing women and chil-I chil-I Expressions like "Yes, my dear," p one," "What is it, dear?" "Of pe, my child" etc, fall gently and p from his lips. This is only a man-F man-F speaking and means nothing, but pa like it. Boucicault, who could I Points on gallantry to a Chester-l Chester-l knows that he can burlesque a pis girl's faults, mimic her awk-flness awk-flness and so improve her without lng any sting, if alter a sharp lecture pows in a mild, fatherly, caressing, rv don't you see, my dear?" or "Have rje it plain to you, little girl?" gnat's first?" he asked of the secre- after seating himself in a steamer F and throwing a rag over his knees, lout is an enemy he has to retain a Five attitude against. , J m Hamlet's first solilo- Ph, Lord," muttered the master un-Ikis un-Ikis breath in a comically helpless I, and then aloud: "Well, let him h me he added: P e allow pupils a choice of parts. Jt P8' seems as if they choose just what I can't do to make me mad out of fciissedness. Now, here's a boy a I uy, too who's bound to play fuet if he dies for it and kills all the I pf us as well. Unfeeling of him, I lt? Ah, dear me, how rare a thing r-omon sense." P" . a tall, fair youth, came tim- I from the wings to the center of the f"u think you can play Hamlet?" Fl Boucicault, as he languidly fin-pa fin-pa pair of eyeglasses. . I 'hibk I might, after considerable ti . sir," answered the boy. F on. Let's see what youll make fre was a naose as Hamlet thrust fiand into his breast At that time I 'red gesture Boucicault sighed and Fe resignation stole into his gaze, Pment later the youth fastened his f on about the fourth seat in the galled gal-led exclaimed sadly: l ?:11 this too, too aoiid flesh would melt, I. er resolve itself law a doo. -f topf cried Boucicals, impatiently fS; "there is no V in 'thaw'; neither P- teonQruiceri .doo.' la the eccoai |