Continuous Vaudeville Part 9

"Might? They _do_."

One night in San Francisco, Bonnie Thornton woke up, heard a suspicious noise in the next room, and nudged Jim, her husband.

"What's the matter?" inquired Jim.

"There is a burglar in the other room," said Bonnie.

"How do you know?"

"I can hear him."

There was a pause, then she whispered excitedly,

"_Jim, he is under the bed._"

"No, he isn't," said Jim.

"How do you know he isn't?"

"Because I am under there."

Jack Wilson went into an auto supply store in New York and wanted to buy a pedometer for his car.

"A speedometer you mean, don't you?" said the clerk, smiling.

"No; I want a pedometer," said Jack.

"But," persisted the clerk, "a pedometer is for registering how far you have walked. You don't want that on your car."

"Humph," said Jack, "you don't know my car."

A Critic had criticized me rather severely, and then, not satisfied with that, had come around to see me and tell wherein I was wrong.

"See here," I said, "how is it that you, a newspaper man here in a small town; a man that never wrote a play; never produced a play; and never played a part in your life; how is it that you feel competent to give lessons to me, who have made a life's study of this line of work?"

"Well," he said slowly, "it is true that I never wrote, produced or took part in a play. Neither have I ever laid an egg. But I consider myself a better judge of an omelette than any hen that ever lived."

There was a kind of a R.S.V.P. in his tone but I did not have any answer to make right at the time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Far from Home and Kindred.]

It was at a little station way out on the plains of Nebraska. There were exactly sixteen houses in sight. Two men met just outside our window.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Henry," said one; "what are you doin' down town?"

VAUDEVILLE VS. THE LEGITIMATE

A few years ago a handsome, immaculate young man came over to me as I was sitting in the office of the Adams House in Boston and said,

"Mr. Cressy, my name is so-and-so; I am an actor; a good actor too, and I have always been very proud of my profession. My mother is one of the most popular actresses in America to-day. But last summer I had an experience that set me to thinking a little. As you were mixed up in it I am going to tell it to you.

"Last season I was out with a company that made one of those 'artistic successes,' but which did not seem to interest the public very much. As a result, when the merry springtime came around, I had a trunk full of good clothes, good press notices and I.O.U.'s from the manager, but not a dollar in money.

"But I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation from a luckier actor friend to spend a month at his summer home on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Sunapee, N. H. Did I went? I did went! _Quick_.

"He had a beautiful home. And I was certainly some cla.s.s; I had linens, flannels, yachting clothes, tennis clothes, evening clothes; in fact I had everything but money.

"One night we were sitting down on his little wharf enjoying our--no, his--cigars, and a very pretty little launch pa.s.sed by.

"'Whose launch is that?' I asked.

"'Oh, it belongs to some Vaudeville player by the name of Matthews, I believe. They live over on the other side of the lake. I don't know them.'

"Pretty soon another little launch came into the bay, cruised around the sh.o.r.e, and went.

"'Whose boat is that?' I inquired.

"'That belongs to a Vaudeville fellow by the name of Merritt. I don't know him.'

"A little while after a big cabin launch came into the bay and cruised slowly around. Out on the deck was a party of young folks: two of the girls were playing mandolins and they were all singing.

"'By Jove!' I exclaimed. 'That's a beauty! Whose is it?'

"'Oh, that is Will Cressy's boat,' replied my friend impatiently. 'He is another of those Vaudeville people. There are a number of them over across the lake there, but we don't know them at all.'

"I sat for a while--thinking. Here I was, a recognized Broadway player of legitimate roles, a man who could play any juvenile Shakespearian role without a rehearsal, a member of The Lambs and The Players Clubs.

And here I was sitting out on the end of a wharf because I didn't have money enough to hire even a b.u.m rowboat. And the three first launches that had pa.s.sed by were all owned by _Vaudeville players_--whom my legitimate friend 'did not know at all.' I thought it all out and then I turned to my friend and said,

"'All right, Tom, but you want to make all you can out of this visit of mine. For the next time I come up here you won't be speaking to me.'

"'Why won't I?' he asked in surprise.

"'Because the next time I come up here I am going to be "one of those Vaudeville players." I am going to have some money in my pocket; and I am going to have a boat; and I am going to sail by here every evening and make faces at you "Legits."'"

Copy of a letter received from the proprietor of a hotel in Youngstown, Ohio: