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Show Booth in London. -- Mr. Booth, writes a correspondent of the New York Times, is really a shy man, and sensitive to a fault. In the hackneyed meaning of the term, he is not genial; not in the ordinary social interpretation of the phrase; not genial as Mr. John McCallough is; not "a night bird," sacrificing his rest to his friends, as most actors who cultivate society during a London season. It is Booth's habit after acting to go home, and it is not his practice to lunch at clubs or pay complimentary visits, except once in a way on Sundays. He cannot do it. His nervous system is too highly strung for any claims upon it beyond the hard work of his business as an actor. He rarely takes wine, and he lives the life of a student, almost of a recluse, outside to the theater. This is well-known in New York. He does not feel disposed to change his habits here; and success on the English stage without the aid of the small change of social amenities is rare in these days. Mr. Jefferson achieved it on his individual merits, and Mr. Booth is steadily mounting the same ladder. Genius, which is well-directed and sustained power, can do without society, but can get along more quickly with it. |