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VARIETY DIVES AND CONCERT SALOONS.

First-Class Varieties--Harry Hill's Famous Resort--Interview with Harry Hill--Ida and Johnnie--Deacons in a Dive--The Bouncer at Work--The Cow-Boy's Call for Mary--The Can-Can-- Music by Bands--Over the Rhine 389-415

A TEAM OF IRISH COMEDIANS.

The Song and Dance Men--Harrigan & Hart--Levi McGinnis the Alderman 416-429

THE BLACK ART.

Sword Swallowers--Jugglers in America, Europe, China, and Hindoostan--Herman Sells the Barbers--Herman Sold by the "Boys"--Wonderful Chinese Jugglers--How Ladies are Suspended in Mid-Air--How to Eat Fire--Walk on Red Hot Iron--Cut off a Man's Head, etc., etc. 430-439

THE INDIAN BOX AND BASKET TRICK.

The Trick-Box--The Board--The Basket--The Magician's "Ghost Story" 440-448

VENTRILOQUISM.

ON THE ROAD.

Making Dates at the "the Square"--Copy of Contracts--Billing the Town--The Cyclonic Advance Agent 459-465

THE GREEN-EYED AND OTHER MONSTERS.

The Street Arabs and Lotta--The Stage at the Beginning of the Eighteenth Century--Little "Accidents" of Bernhardt and Indiscretions of Patti--"Sudden Johnnie" and Colombier-- Lizzie McCall's Crime--Miss Bertha Welby and Miss Cleves--The "Old Gray" and the Skipping Rope Dancer--Husband and Wife and Ballet Girl--Mephistopheles and Venus 466-483

JOHN WILKES BOOTH, PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S ASSASSIN.

THE SUMMER VACATION.

How the Stars and Lesser Lights Disport Themselves--Actors at the Seaside--The "Old Gray" Surprises the Actors at the Banquet-- Millions Spent upon Theatricals 492-501

FUN AMONG THE ELKS.

Who the "Elks" are--Jughandle's Friend Wants to be an Elk-- Getting the Candidate Ready--The High Muck-a-Muck--The Peculiar Circle--The Descent--The Path of Progress--The Upward Flight to Glory--Down! Down!! Down!!!--On "Eincycle" --The Merciful Net--An Elk 502-511

THE CIRCUS IS HERE.

The Disengaged Canvasman's Poetry--Circus Posters--The Grand Parade--The ,000 Beauty--Twelve Ponies and Forty Horses on a Rampage--Henry Clay Scott and his Aged Father--Sold his Stove to go to the Circus 512-521

UNDER THE CANVAS.

The Small Boy and the Circus--Beating the Show--Slack Wire and Balloon Performances--Donaldson's Ill-Fated Trip--Frightful Accident in Mexico--Circus Green-Room and Dressing-Rooms--The Clown--Bareback Riders and Tumblers--Merryman's Admission Fee --The Clown's Baby 522-535

ACROBATICS AND EQUESTRIANISM.

Training Children--Olive Logan on the Circus--Trapeze Performers--Tight Rope Feats--Training Riders--The Leading Equestrienne--The Great English Rider, Miss Lily Deacon--The Georgia Lady's Experience--Cow-Boys Raid on the Ring 536-552

A ROMANCE OF THE RING.

Shadowville--Miss Nannie Florenstein, the most Wonderful Bareback Rider in the World--Her Cruel Taskmaster--Ned Struthers to the Rescue--"All's Well that Ends Well" 553-562

LEAPING AND TUMBLING.

The Athlete of Ancient Rome--Grand and Lofty Tumbling of To-day --Double and Triple Somersaults 563-571

AN ADVENTURE WITH GIANTS.

THE TATTOOED TWINS.

IN THE MENAGERIE.

Zazel Shot out of a Cannon--The Zulus--Gen. Tom Thumb and Wife --Thumb and Campanini--Hugged and Kissed by an Ape--Millie Christine the Famous Two-Headed Lady--The Eighth Wonder of the World--Jocko Spoils a Comedy--Circus in Winter Quarters 590-608

PAGE. FRONTISPIECE 1 Stage of Modern Theatre 18 Lotta 22 Interior of Modern Theatre 36 Decorating a Scene Painter 47 The "Masher" 56 The Big Hat 61 George and Harry 63 Louise Montague 64 Maud Branscombe 65 Selina Dolaro 68 John McCullough 70 Belle Howitt 73 John A. Stevens 76 Lillie West 79 PAULINE MARKHAM 80 Adah Isaac Menken 83 Millie La Fonte 85 Ballet Girl's Dressing-Room 87 Edwin Booth 89 McKee Rankin 91 The Three Villas 93 Sarah Bernhardt 96 The Late Adelaide Neilson 99 Dressing an Actress' Hair 102 Marie Roze 105 In the Green-Room 106 A Green-Room Tableau 107 Getting their "Lines" 109 Milton Nobles 110 Improving Spare Moments 112 An Actress' Useful Husband 113 Making Love in the Side Scenes 115 M'lle Geraldine and Little Gerry 117 Sobering a Comedian 120 McCullough as Virginius 121 Kate Claxton 123 The Late Venie Clancie 126 Catherine Lewis 128 Chanfrau 131 Fanny Davenport 134 Dion Boucicault 135 Mrs. Boucicault 136 Maud Granger 139 Portia and Shylock 143 Lizzie McCall 145 Pin up my Skirts 148 Annie Pixley as M'liss 150 The Call Boy's Revenge 151 Thos. W. Keene 154 Emma Thursby 156 Lillian Russell 158 Joe Jefferson 159 Roland Reed 160 LIZZIE WEBSTER 160 Lawrence Barrett 161 J. K. Emmett 164 John T. Raymond 166 Katherine Rogers 168 Josephine D'Orme 170 Ferdinand and Miranda 173 Lester Wallack 175 Clara Morris 177 Helen Dingeon 178 Scott-Siddons 181 John Parselle 184 Sol Smith Russell 187 Rose Coghlan 189 The Raft Scene 192 Minnie Hauk 197 Helping the Scene Painter 201 The Old Woman of the Company 204 The AEsthetic Drama 205 Kitty Blanchard 209 Mrs. Langtry 213 Marie Prescott as Parthenia 217 Mme. Fanny Janauschek 222 Rose Eytinge 226 Agnes Booth 230 "Now then, Ladies and Gentlemen, all Together" 234 Training Ballet Dancers 235 National Dances 237 MARION ELMORE 240 Drilling for the Chorus 245 The "Sucker" 248 Donna Julia's Eyes 253 Oberon and Titania 255 Measuring for the Costume 257 M. B. Curtis 260 A Premiere before the Audience 262 A Bowery "Masher" 276 Lady Macbeth 278 Working a Greeny at a Matinee 280 From one of the Mashed 282 Adelina Patti's "Mash" 287 J. H. Haverly 288 A Monkey Spoiling a Mash 292 Ambleleg 295 Serving a Writ on Fanny Davenport 304 Ernesti Rossi 307 Slippers for Free Puffs 311 MISS CONNOLLY 320 Little Corinne 322 Taglioni Congratulating Emma Livry 326 Lotta 332 Maggie Mitchell 333 Emma Abbott 334 Called before the Curtain 338 Fay Templeton 342 Chinese Theatre 348 Chinese Property Room 351 Minnie Maddern 352 Crowning a Tenor 356 Patti 359 Gerster 361 George Christy 370 You are the Sort of Man I Like 373 Jim Crow 378 G. H. Adams 382 Fencing Scene in Black Crock 390 Mad. Theo 392 Gus Williams 394 She Tickled Him Under the Chin 399 M'LLE GENEVIEVE 400 Armado and Jaquenetta 402 Laura Don 404 Benedick and Beatrice 405 Materna 406 Thatcher, Primrose and West 407 A "Bowery" on a Lark 408 Concert Saloon Band 410 Female Band 411 Female Orchestra 412 James O'Neill 413 An Ideal Masher 414 Edwin Harrigan 417 Tony Hart 418 Herman's Sell 432 The Box Trick, Fig. 1 440 The Box Trick, Fig. 2 441 The Box Trick, Fig. 3 441 The Box Trick, Fig. 4 442 The Box Trick, Fig. 5 443 On the Road 465 The McCall Tragedy 472 Blackmailing an Actress 474 Jealousy 476 Edward Kendall 478 Out in the Cold 480 John Wilkes Booth 485 Scene from Grand Duchess 493 John W. Norton 496 MARY ANDERSON 496 A Candidate in Regalia 504 Muck-a-Muck 508 The Circus World 512 Twenty-five Thousand Dollar Beauty 517 Adam Forepaugh 520 Beating the Circus 523 W. H. Donaldson 525 Catalina Georgio's Frightful Death 526 Bareback Riding 537 Trapeze 539 Mdme. Lasalle 542 ANNIE LIVINGSTONE 545 Circus Riders 546 Dan Rice 550 A Human Pyramid 562 Leaping 565 Bicycle Riding 571 Giant and Giantess 579, 580 Performing Elephants 596 Jumbo 599 Curtain 608

A PRELIMINARY PEEP.

Anybody can get into the auditorium of a theatre by paying an admission fee reaching from twenty-five cents up to .50, and the sawdust precincts of the circus may be penetrated for the modest sum of fifty cents; but behind the curtain of the theatre and beyond the screened door through which circus attractions enter the exhibition arena, are sacred places, with secrets that are so valuable to their owners that they dare not for less than a small fortune allow the public to view or even to understand them. A general knowledge of the simplicity of theatrical and circus tricks--of the delusions that make up the stock in trade of showmen generally--would destroy their value as salable articles, and make everybody a little Barnum or Jack Haverly of his own, with ability to furnish himself with amusement at home, while the former mastodonic managers could only look on and weep at the educational facilities with which the country was overrun, and mourn the Shakespearian days when people were easily pleased with the poverty-ridden stage and bare representations that were offered them. But there is no fear that the public will ever be instructed up to such a high degree in regard to the inside workings of the theatre and circus, that there will not at all times be plenty of patrons for both these excellent forms of entertainment. The managers take good care to keep their secrets to themselves, as those who go prying around the shrines in which the theatric arcana are held, very soon find out. At the back door of every theatre--the entrance to the stage--is a cerberus of the most pronounced kind, who would sooner bite his own grandfather's ear off than allow anybody not entitled to the privilege, to pass him; while at the door of the circus dressing-room and all around it are faithful sentinels who will listen to no password, and through whose ranks it is as impossible to break as it is for the fat boy in the side show to throw a double somersault over seventeen horses, with an elephant as big as Jumbo at the far end of the line. It will, however, be the proud privilege of the readers of this book to get as close to the secrets of the stage and sawdust arena as one can well do without knowing absolutely all about them, and by the time the last page is read and the volume is ready to be closed, I think the readers will be both delighted and astonished with the revelations that have been made.

Turn the average man loose on the stage of a theatre at night, while a play is going on, and it is a Russian kobol against a whole San Juan mining district that he will not know whether he has struck the seventh circle of heaven or is in a lunatic asylum. He will meet some very queer creatures in the scenes; he will see many strange things; the brilliant lights around him, the patches of color flashing into his eyes, the sea of faces and the tangle of millinery in the auditorium, will mystify him; the startling streaks of black upon the faces of the men and women who jostle him as he closely hugs the wings, their red noses and blooming cheeks, the general tomato-can aspect of their faces, the shaggy wigs and straggling beards that look as if they had been torn off the back of a goat only ten minutes before; the dismal, commonplace clothes that shine so radiantly when seen from a chair in the parquette or dress circle,--all these things will set his poor brain in a whirl; and while he is looking on awe-stricken, the scene shifters will come rushing down upon him with a new delusion, trampling on his toes in a manner that suggests in a most potential way his superfluity in that particular place, and pushing him aside without the merest apology, and perhaps with no other remark than a fragment of fervent profanity, as if he were a wretched street Arab in that mimic world in which the scene shifter and the captain of the "supers" play such very important parts. People come out of every imaginable place all around him. There seem to be doors everywhere,--in the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and even in space; and as the "vasty deep" and the rest of the surroundings give up their dwellers, the intruder receives fresh jolts and thrusts, and possibly additional donations of profanity. This, of course, applies only to the male apparitions that overwhelm the strange visitor to the new world behind the scenes. The female portion of that illusory sphere have nothing to say to him except with their eyes, which very forcibly inquire the meaning of his presence there.

If a person would like to understand how awfully strange and lonely it will be for the last individual left alive upon earth, he need only pay a first visit to the stage of a theatre where he is not acquainted with any of the actors or actresses, and has not even the pleasure of knowing one of the minor attaches. Any attempt to form an acquaintance is promptly and unmistakably repelled, and all the poor unfortunate has to do is to move up where he is out of everybody's way, and he can look on and wonder to his heart's content. As he inspects his surroundings and has his attention called to the actions of the people whose business it is to place the stage in shape for an act or scene of a play, he will readily comprehend the meaning of forming a world out of chaos. If they are getting ready the balcony scene for "Romeo and Juliet," wing pieces are pushed out to represent trees and the side of the house of the Capulets--and what a house it usually is, too, for such elegant people! The front of the house is rapidly placed in position between two wings, the balcony is quickly nailed on, and with the aid of a rude scaffolding behind the scene and a ladder, the fair Juliet mounts, and, feeling her way carefully, at last steps out upon the frail structure to tell the sweet moon her love for Romeo. The whole thing looks ridiculous. Even the stately daughter of the Capulets has not beauty or skill enough to remove the absurdity from the scene which has the appearance of being, and is in reality nothing else than wood and canvas freely splashed with paint of the proper colors. A painted box represents a stone; a green carpet passes for grass; the beautiful bric-a-brac that opens the eyes of the aesthetic people in the audience is only brown paper hurriedly daubed by the scene painter's apprentice; the wall of the Capulets' garden is a very frail canvas concern, and the floral attributes are frauds of the deepest dye from the scenic artist's long table of colors. The whole picture is simple, but unintelligible to the looker-on for the first time, and as he vanishes through the door he laughs heartily at the very thin disguise tragedy and comedy are required to put on to delude and please the public.

Let him return to the theatre in the morning and view its mysteries shorn of the dazzle and splendor that the night brings. He will be more astonished still. The place is usually as dark as a dungeon, there being something peculiar in the construction of theatres which makes them bright at night and dismal during daylight. If a stray slant of light falls anywhere upon the stage it will be rudely mocked by the bits of burning candle by the aid of which the stage carpenter is at work right in the very spot where, twelve hours before, Romeo and Juliet lived and died for each other in such a lamentably pathetic way that the audience shed tears, and only gave the lachrymal rainstorm a rest at intervals long enough to shower the star with applause. The stage carpenter's assistant is there too, the machinist, the scene painters, the men who have charge of the company's baggage, the property-man, and others. They fill the scene in a lugubrious and wholly uninteresting way,--all are at work, and as heedless of the attendance of strangers as the actors and stage hands of the night before had been. The scenes have lost their color--such as are left, and this mimic world that had its admiring and aspiring hundreds is as bare and desert-like as a bald head after its owner has been using hair restoratives for about six months. It has neither shape nor any suggestion of its whilom beauty and attractiveness. The green-room may be explored, and the dressing-rooms, but they will reveal nothing; their former occupants are probably still abed, and unless there is to be a rehearsal they will not be seen around again until 7 o'clock at night. He must not be too searching in his explorations or the attention of the attaches will be attracted, and the conversation that will follow may not be the most pleasant in the world to him. Moving down the stairs that lead to the space under the stage, the explorer will find it darker and more dungeon-like still, and even if it were light nothing could be seen but the steam boiler, for heating and power purposes, the ventilating apparatus, the numerous trap-door openings and the posts about them, with a few other accessories that are hardly worth mentioning. Again he will be forced to confess that everything is very simple, but he cannot understand any part of it, and again he goes away with a laugh on his lips and merriment in his heart because the people are so easily pleased, and theatrical managers find it so easy to entertain them.

A visit to the dressing-tent of the circus will be equally barren of appreciable results. He can see the dazzling costumes, the shapely limbs of the females, the gaily-caparisoned steeds, the red gold-laced coats of the supers, and a chaotic heaping up of a number of indescribable articles, but behind the canvas screen that divides the tent lie secrets that he must not attempt to penetrate, for there are the lives, the lies and the fascinations of the performers. There, awkward limbs receive their roundly shaping, and old age, by a magic touch with the elixir of the "make-up" box, puts on the masquerading bloom of youth. The same might, to some extent, be said of the dressing-rooms of the theatre, only the application could not be as wide or general as in the circus profession, for the lives these people lead soon lay waste their beauty if they happen to be young, and crowd senility upon them long before the usual time. Their work is always hard, their surroundings are of the very worst kind, they grow up in an atmosphere of fraud, and they necessarily learn early the arts of deception whereby their employers make fame and fortune. But I have taken a stranger into the dressing-tent, and I must not abuse the hospitality of the place by exposing its sins in his presence. The stranger is introduced all around, shakes hands with everybody, even the premiere equestrienne, or, perhaps, the charming and daring little lady who is twice daily shot out of a cannon, and besides makes two headlong dives a day from the dome of the tent into the net spread beneath. All are glad to see him, and he is surprised to find that the two Indians who juggle fire-brands and do other feats not at all consistent with the traditions of the aborigines, have not sufficient savage blood in their veins to make respectable cigar store signs, but are base counterfeits of the noble red man, applications of chocolate and vermilion to their faces, and the usual accompaniment of black hair, feathers, and deerskin clothing having bestowed upon them all the air of the child of the forest that they possessed. As the band sounds the music for the riding act the equestrienne's horse dashes tamely into the ring, and the gentlemanly agent of the show pushes the visitor out to have him "look at an act that beats anything of the kind in the world."

A THEATRE OF SHAKESPEARE'S DAY.

If some of the old Greek dramatists could shake together their ashes and assume life, they would open their ancient eyes to look upon the beauty, comfort, and charming symmetry of the first-class theatre of the present day. The ancients were at first obliged to put up with representations given upon rude carts; afterwards stone theatres were constructed, with the performers placed in a pit in the middle space, but no such effort at decoration, or to provide for the convenience of spectators, was to be seen as is to be found everywhere now. The plays, too, while they may have been delightful to our Hellenic predecessors, would hardly draw a corporal's guard at the present time, when spectacular melodrama is all the rage, and the only chorus the average theatre-goer cares to see is the aggregation of pretty girls in entrancing tights, and with the utmost scantiness of clothes to hide their personal charms, who sing the concerted music in comic opera. This is the kind of chorus that sends a thrill of ecstacy through the heart, and around the resplendent dome of thought of the much-maligned modern bald-head. The strophe and anti-strophe of the ancient drama would set the nineteenth century citizen crazy as a wild man of Borneo. The ancient drama was gradually replaced by the ecclesiastical drama,--the mystery or miracle play,--an example of which remains to us in the celebrated "Passion Play," performed at Obarammergan at stated intervals, and over the projected production of which, in this country, there was so much trouble that the play was never produced. In this style of drama, events in the life of the Savior, or the great mysteries of the church, were the topics dealt with by the saintly playwright, and the actors personated characters ranging from the Devil up through the various grades of saintliness and angelic beatification to God Almighty himself. The miracle play flourished during the middle ages, and survived down almost to the Elizabethan period, when Shakespeare appeared upon the scene; and with his advent there came a revolution, the outgrowth of which is the present perfect and beautiful theatre. The change in the style of plays brought a change in the style of places for their representations, and while the Bard of Avon was making his reputation in the dramatic line, the Globe and Blackfriars were leading the way to advancement in the matter of theatrical structures. They had performances on Sunday in those olden times, and while good Christians were worshipping God in their sanctuaries, the undevout Britons of the "golden age" were worshipping Thespis in his.

But let us enter with the crowd and observe the internal economy of the theatre, and the character of the performance. Though externally hexagonal, the building within is circular in form. There is no roof, as before intimated, and the exhibitions occurring only in the summer and in pleasant weather, the air is always serene and pure, and the audience requires no protection from storms or wind. In the centre of the enclosure is the pit, as in modern play-houses. Here, "the understanding gentlemen of the ground," as Ben Jonson has it, revelled in the delights of the drama at sixpence a head; the bosom of the earth their sole footstool, and the blue canopy of heaven their only shelter. The "great unwashed did congregate" upon this spot, sometimes in immense numbers, to luxuriate at once in Shakespeare and tobacco; for be it known, the ancient theatres of London were to the working classes very much what its modern porter and beer shops are. They were places of resort where tradesmen and tradesmen's wives assembled to gossip and smoke and steep.

Directly in front of the pit was the stage, protected by a woollen curtain. Unlike modern "drops," it was divided in the middle, and suspended by rings from an iron rod. When the performance was about to commence it was drawn aside--opening from the middle; the rolling up process is an achievement of some later mind.

Hark! Do you hear the gentle grating, the jingling, the rustling of woollen? Without the slightest premonitory symptoms there has been a rupture of the curtain, and the mysteries it so securely hid are most unexpectedly revealed. Seated upon wooden stools or reclining upon the rushes with which the stage is strewn, are a number of individuals composedly smoking long pipes, whom the unsophisticated might take for actors. Far from it; they are the perpetual bane of actors--wits and gallants, who delight in nothing so much as in exhibiting themselves for the public to admire, or confusing the actors by their pleasantries and disturbing the progress of the play.

Protruding from the further wall of the stage is a balcony, supported on wooden pillars, and flanked by a pair of boxes in which those who rejoiced in being singular or who could not afford the full price of admission were accommodated. The balcony was used by the actors. It served as the rostrum when a large company was to be addressed; it was the throne of kings and princes, the grand judgment-seat of mighty umpires, and in cases of necessity was convenient as the first-story window of an imaginary dwelling-house. For this latter purpose it was particularly useful in the garden scene between Romeo and Juliet. But while we have been delaying in description, the rushes upon the boards have rustled, the actors have made their appearance, and the business of the play has commenced.

When the woolen hangings are again separated, the imagination is no longer painfully strained to support the illusion of the apples, but the unerring board directs the wandering eye to the vast forests of Arden. Here Jaques makes his sublime forest meditations in an area of ten feet by twelve, enclosed in rough pine boards; his enthusiasm, considerably damped by the provoking witticisms of critics and gallants, and his utterances choked by the volumes of tobacco smoke which roll in lazy, suffocating clouds toward the ceiling from a score of pipes. The affectionate ditties of Orlando are nailed to visionary trees, and he makes passionate love to the fair Rosalind amid fumes which strangle tender phrases, and convert sighings into pulmonary symptoms of a different character.

But there is one novelty, one new feature in the representation as the play progresses. It will be recollected that the balcony was mentioned as furnishing a throne for princes, and a judgment-seat for dispensers of justice. During the wrestling contest between Charles and Orlando, this most serviceable commodity comes into requisition. Here sits the "duke" as umpire of the combat and general of the troops and retainers who stand on guard below. It is quite refreshing to hear his stentorian voice issuing from so unusual a quarter--it furnishes quite an agreeable relief to the tedious monotony of insipid dialogue going on among the rushes below.

The play, however, proceeds rather sluggishly from the utter meagreness and insufficiency of the "scenery, machinery and decorations," so indispensable to the attractiveness of theatrical exhibitions. The tradesmen in the pit turn their backs to the stage and their eyes to the skies, as they clasp affectionately the almost exhausted flagon, and pour into their thirsty throats the residue of half a dozen potations. The crimpled dames in the boxes relax their majestic stiffness, and relapse somnolent into the arms of the gouty old gentlemen, their husbands. The wits and "clever" men upon the stage grow more boisterous in their pleasantries, and fumigate more zealously as they pelt the unfortunate actors with rushes, or trip them as they "exeunt." To the vulgar crowd the only attractions which the performance offers, are the brilliant dresses of the actors and the vestige of a plot which the personation enables them to glean. As a general thing, however, the stage now receives hardly any attention. Pipes, tankards, and gossip are the order of the day, and everybody is glad when Orlando succeeds in obtaining his hereditary rights, wins the hand of the beautiful Rosalind, is dismissed in happiness, and the woolen screen slips along its iron rod for the last time.

Such was the style of dramatic exhibitions in the Elizabethan era. The stage was totally devoid of all scenic appendages calculated to produce the illusion necessary to add interest and intelligence to the plot. Rocks and trees, palaces and hamlets, places of festivity and scenes of shipwreck, all existed merely in the imagination, with neither properties nor scenery to aid in the deception.

THE AMERICAN THEATRE.

Good-natured, rosy-cheeked, cheerful little Davy Garrick, as Dr. Johnson called the tragedian, was in the zenith of his glory at the Drury Lane, London, about the middle of the last century, and Goodman's Fields, which had cradled the wonderful actor, was in its decline. It declined so rapidly after Garrick deserted it that its manager, Wm. Hallam, failed in 1750, and the theatre was closed. Hallam at once turned his thoughts toward America as a field in which his fortune might be replenished,--English actors and managers still look upon this country as an El Dorado,--and so he consulted with his brother Lewis Hallam, a comedian, and the two came to the conclusion to organize a company and run the risk of being scalped by what they considered the liberal but bloodthirsty tomahawk-wielding citizens of the New World. They got a company together, twenty-four stock plays, many of them Shakespearian, were selected, with eight farces and a single pantomime, "The Harlequin Collector, or The Miller Deceived." Wm. Hallam and his brother were to share the profits of the venture, and the former was to remain at home while the latter managed the company and threw in his services as first low comedian, his wife and children also taking parts in the performances.

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