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AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF CLARA MORRIS.
ALIXE, THE DOLL. BABY PAHT. AND
THIRD GREAT TRIUMPH.
Miss Morris Tolls of How She Eluded
Angnstln Daly and the Bustle Mie
Hated-She Pro-res to Her Crittes
That She Is a Mand-Stded Genins.
A Good Rehearsal Story—A Souv
enir From a Manager of His Grat
itude at Being Palled Oat of a
Hole.
No. xm.
(Copyright, 1901. by S. 9. McClure Cos.)
My first thought on awaking next morn
ing was one of dismay on recalling the
destruction of the little "P. H. C.,” that
being the actors' contraction of Mr. Daly s
somewhat grandiloquent "Palor Home or
Comedy.” My grief over the burning of
the pretty toy theater was very real and
I would have been an astonished young
woman had anyone prophesied that for
me personally the disaster was to prove a
piece of unqualified good luck.
Mr. Daly hod a very expensive com
pany on his hands; he had amazed other
managers by his ‘'corner"on leading men.
for with three already In hie company,
he had not hesitated to draw oh Boston
for Harry Crisp and on Philadelphia for
Loui9 James; and then such names as
BARA JPTVETT. i;sif JOHN BROUGHAN.
George Clark, Daniel Harkins, George
Devere, Chas. Fisher, James Lewis, Wil
liam Lemoyne, William Davldge, A.
Whiting, G. Fawcett, G. Parkes, J. Bur
nett, H, Bascombe, J. Beekman, George
Gilbert, etc., and one can readily under
stand that the salary of the men alone
must have made quite an Item In the
week's expenses; and added to the sharp
necessity of getting us to work as quickly
as possible.
And In actual truth the ruins of the lit
tle theater were not yet cold, when Mr.
Daly had by wire secured a week for us,
divided between Syracuse and Albany,
and we were scrambling dresses together
and buying new toilet articles—rouge,
powders and pomades, and transforming
ourselves Into strolling players-Ahough
sooth to say, there was precious little
‘‘strolling" done after we started, for we
were all a-rushing for rooms, for food,
for trains through a blizzard that was on,
with plenty of delaying snowdrifts.
Now at that time, to my own great
anxiety, I was by way of standing on
very dangerous ground. The publio had
favored me almost extravagantly from
the very first performance of “Anne Syl
vester,” but the critics, at least the two
most Important ones, seemed to praise me
with a certain unwilling drag of the pen.
Nearly all their kind words had ths
sweetness squeezed out of them between
"huts" and ‘‘lfs,” and most wounding of
all my actual work was less often criti
cised than were my personal defects.
There is nothing more fatal to the ar
tistic value—to the future welfare of a
young player, than to be known as a "one
pan actress"—yet that was the very dan
ger that was threatening me at the time
of the burning of the home theater. Fol
lowing other parts known as "strong,”
Jezebel, the half-breed Fast Indian, a
velvet footed treachery end twice would
be murderess; and Cora, the quadroon
mad-women, were In a fair way to Injure
me greatly. Already one paper had said;
“Mis# Morris has a strange Intuitive com
prehension of these creatures of mixed
blood.”
But worse than that the moat powerful
of the two critic* I dreaded and said one
morning: "Ml** Morris played with car*
and much feeling, the audience wept
copiously, 'to any one who ha* long read
the great critic, that word ‘copiously’ la
tantamount to his full signature, so per
sistently doe* he use It), but her perform
ance was flecked with those tigerish
gleam* that aeem to be a part of her
method. She will probably And difficulty
In equaling In any line, her succeaa in
lor a.”
Then one bitter cold day we returned
to New York and Mr. Daly, sending ror
me. said: "He must ask a favor of me,"
a form of speech that literally made m
sit up straight—ye*, and gasp too with
astonishment. With a regardful sigh h#
went on: "I suppose you know you ar*
a strong attraction?”
I smiled broadly at hit evident disap
proval of such knowledge on my part, and
he continued: "But In this play there 1
no part for you, yet J greatly need all my
strongest people In thla first cast. Of
course, a* far as ability 1* concerned, you
could play the Counte** and make a hit
hut she a too old, no you’ll not play the
mother to marriageable daughters under
my management, even In an emergency.
Now I have Mis* Morant. Mlsa Daven
port and Mlaa Diet*, but-but I muat have
your name too.”
I nodded vigorously, I understood, and
having aeen the play In Part#, where It
w*a one of three pieces offered for an es
•nlng’a programme, I mentally reviewed
the cast and presently made answer,
cheerfully and honestly: “Oh, yes! I see
—it's that Aline, Justine—no, no! Claudine
—that's the name. I think of the maid
you want me to go on for that? All right,
anything to help!"
He leaned forward, asking eagerly; “Do
you mean that?”.
"Of course. I do!” I answered.
"Ah!" he crleaj "you don’t guess well,
Miss Morris—but you've the heart of a
good comrade, and now I'm sure you will
do as I ask you, and play Allxe for
me?"
I sprang to my feet with a bound.
"Alixe!" I cried; “I to play that child—
oh, impossible! No. no! I should be ab
surd. I—l know too much—oh. you un
derstand what I mean! She is a little
convent bred bi-t of innocence, a veritable
baby of sixteen! Dear Mr. Daly, don't
you see I should ruin the play?"
He answered ralher coldly:. "You are
not given to ruining plays. The part does
not amount to much (good heavens!) and
I admit it does not suit you, but think of
my position, give me the benefit of your
name as Allxe for one single week, and
on the second Monday night Miss Jewett
shall take the part off your hands."
"But.” I whimpered, "the critics will
make me the butt of their ridicule, for
I can’t make myself look like an Allxe!”
"Oh, no, they won’t,” he answered
sharply, "of course you won’t expect a
success, but you need fear no jibes for
trying to help me out of a dramatic hole.
Will you help me?” and of course there
was nothing to do, hut swallow hard, and
hold out my hand for the unwelcome
part.
Imagine my surprise when on my way
to rehearsal, I saw posters up announc
ing the production of the play of "Alixe."
I met Mr. Daly at the door and said:
"Why this play was always called “The
countess de Somerive?"
“Yes," he said; “I know, but Allxs
looks well—it's odd and pretty—and,
well, It will lend a little Importance to
the part.” Which shows how heavy were
the scales upon our eyes, while we were
rehearsing the new play.
Everyone sympathized with me, but
said a week would soon pass, and I
groaned and ordered heelless slippers and
flaxen hair, parted simply and waved
back from the temples to fall loosely on
the shoulders. To avoid the hlght that
heels and the fashionable chignon would
give me—while a thin white nun's veiling
gown, high necked and long sleeved over
a low cut -white silk lining, buttoned at
the back, and finished with a pale blue
sash and little side pocket, completed
the simple costume, I prepared for the
character I was beginning to understand,
as I studied her and shame-facedly to
love! Oh, yes; one often feels dislike or
liking for the creature one Is trying to
represent.
I recalled the best Ophelia I had ever
seen, a German actress; would she do
for a model? Perhaps, no! She was
mystic, strange—aloof! Oh, dear; and
then by merest accident my mind wan
dered away to 'the past. I had said to
f ' ** I ** n ) I
James üßwis. " oxonav cuajup * • . -
* r ir> ,
THE MOKNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MAY 19. 1901.
myself It should not be so hard. Every
woman has been innocent —I was innocent
enough when my first sweetheart paused
at my side to say to me the foolish old
words, that never lose sweetness and nov
elty. I recalled with what open pleas
ure I had listened, with what honest sat
isfaction I acepted his attentions. With
a laugh I exclaimed: "I didn't even have
sense enough to hide my gratification and
pride or to pretend the least bit."
I stopped suddenly, light seemed to come
to my mind. Innocence is alike the world
over, I thought; it only differs In degree!
I sprang to my feet; I cried Joyously: “I
have caught the cue. I -won’t act at all!
nil just speak the lines sincerely and
simply and leave the effect to Provi
dence!"
The scales loosened a trifle over Mr.
Daly's eyes at the last rehearsal but one.
He was down In the orchestra speaking
to (he leader, when I came to the end
of the act and the words: “The mother
whom I have insulted?—that young girl,
then. Is my sister, the sister whose hap
piness I have stolen, whose future I have
shattered! What is there-left-for-me-to
live for?"
Mr. Daly glanced up and said sharply:
“What's that?—er—Miss Morris, what are
you going to do there, as the curtain
falls? I—l—haven’t noticed that speech
before. Go back a bit, Mr. Fisher, and
Miss Morant—back to the Count’s entrance
—let me hear that again.”
We went over the scene again.
"A-h-e-m!" said Mr. Daly, “you've not
answered my question, Miss Morris—what
do you do at the fall of the curtain?”
"Nothing, sir.” I answered; "Just stare,
dazedly at space, I think—swaying a little,
perhaps.”
"I want you to fall,” he declared.
"Oh!” I exclaimed; "please, don't you
think that would be rather melo-dra
matic? I—l—if she could stand while re
ceiving that awful shock about her moth
er’s shame, she would hardly fall after,
from mere horror of her own thoughts?"
"I know all that—but let me tell you
there's always great effect in a falling
body. At any rate you can sink Into a
chair—and so give the suggestion of col
lapse."
“There is no chair!" I answered, cheer
fully.
"Well,” he replied, testily; "there can
be one I suppose! Here, boy—bring a
large chair end place it behind Miss Mor
ris!"
"Mr. Daly!" I argued, "if I fall heavily
as I must for effect, the chair will Jump
and that will be funny—see."
I fell, it did start backward, but Mr.
Daly was equal to the emergency:
"Take off the castors and place the
chair hard against the end of the piano.
Now try!” I did, the chair was firm as
a rock. It was settled; I did as 1 was
told, and fell at the end of the act, ever
after. And Mr. Daly came and patted
me on the back and said kindly: "Don't
fret—l honestly believe there’s something
in the little part after all—you know, the (
speech made me feel creepy.”
The great night came. Another small I
auditorium awaited the coming of our
patrons. There was a smell of scarce
dried paint in front of the curtain and
of scrubbing soap behind it, but all was
bright and fresh, and the house was soon
packed with a brilliant audience.
Every important occasion seems to have
its touch of the ridiculous, and so had
this one. The “bustle," the big wire af
fair, extending to the bottom of the
skirt, had reached its bideou3
apogee of fashion at that time; yet what
possible relation could there be between
that teetering monstrosity and grace or
sentiment or tragedy? Surely I thought
this girl pupil, brought straight from
convent school to country home, might
reasonably be bustlele>ss; and I should
look so much smaller—so much more grace
ful. But, Mr. Daly? Never-never! Would
he consent to such a breach of propriety?
Fashion—his soul loved! He poured over
her plates—he bowed to her mandates!
My courage having failed me, when I
hurried to my room. I put on the ob
noxious structure. But one glimpse of
that camel-like hump on the back of
“Alixe,” and the thought of the fall in
the chair, made be desperate. I tore
the mass of wire off and decided to keep
out of sight till the last moment, and
then make a rush for the stage.
"Ready. Miss Morris?”
"Ready!” I answered as the question
was asked from door to door.
In a few moments the call-hoy came
back again. "Are you ready? Every one
is out there but you."
“Oh, yes,” I said, showing myself to
him, but still not leaving the shelter of
my room, and I heard him saying, "Yes,
sir, she’s all ready. I saw her.”
The curtain rose. Only a few lines
were spoken before my entrance. I dared
wait no longer. Heavens, no, for there
was Mr. Daly coming for me. I gathered
up my skirts as bunchlly as I could and
ran out. But 1 could not deceive Mr.
Daly. In an instant he missed the neces
sary camel's hump.
"Good heavens and earth!" he shout
ed. “You’ve left your bustle!"
I broke into a run. ''Walt!" he cried
loudly. He dashed into my open room,
caught the big bustle up, and dragging
it like a great cage behind him, came
plunging down the entrance to me, cry
ing, “Wait! Wait!” and waving the oth
er hand commandingly above his head.
I heard my music. I sprang to the plat
form I had to enter from. “That's me!”
I cried. “Wait!" he ordered, and reached
out to catch me. I evaded his grasp and
skipped through the door, leaving but a
fold of my skirt in his hand. I was on
the stage, and, joy, oh, joy! I was with
out a bustle!
Mr. Daly did not like being laughed at,
but when he glanced down and saw the
thing he was dragging behind him, after
the manner of a baby's tin wagon, he
had to laugh at himself. And verily there
were others who laughed with him, while
the scandalized dresser carried the re
jected article back to a decent seclusion.
There Is no manager, star nor agent
whose experience will enable him to
foresee the fate awaiting an untried play.
Avery curious thing is that what Is call
ed "an actor’s play”—one, that is, that
actors praise and enjoy in the rehearsing
—is almost always a failure. While the
managerial judgment has been reversed
so often by the public that even the most
enthusiastic producer of new plays is apt
“to hedge” a bit with: “Unless I deceive
myself, this will prove to be the greatest
play, etc.” While the mistakes made by
aotors and managers both, anent the
value of certain parts, are illustrated suf
ficiently by E. H. Sothern, C. W. Coul
doek, Joseph Jefferson, all three of whom
made immense hits in parts they had
absolutely refused to accept, yielding only
from necessity or obligingness, and to
their own astonishment finding fame in
presenting the unwelcome character. And
to the misjudged “Lord Dundreary,”
“Asa Trenchard," etc., that night was
added the name of "Alixe."
And the audtende accepted the Joyous
little maid almost from the first girlish
love betraying words she spoke. And yet
so sensitive is an audience at times, while
still laughing over her sweet ignorance,
they thrilled with a nameless dread of
coming evil. "
As the play went on and the Impetuous
grief of the child changed into proud self
restraint, while her agonizing Jealousy of
her adored mother developed, Mr. Daly,
with wide, bright eyes, exclaimed: “I
must have been blind—stone blind. Why,
'Alixe' Is the bone and marrow, the heart
and soul of this play."
Poor, loving, little base-born! pathetic
little marplot! Seeing herslf as only a
stumbling block to others, she sought self
effacement beneath the gentle waters of
the lily pond. And early In the last act,
as her drowned body, carried In the arms
of the two men who had loved her, was
laid before the starting eyes of the guilty
mother, and the loving, forgiving, plead
ing letter of the suicide was read above
her, actual sobs rose from the front of
the house. It was a heart-breaking scene.
But when the curtain fell—oh, what a
whirlwind broke loose in that little thea
ter! The curtain went up and down—up
and down. And then, to my amazement,
Mr. Daly signalled for me to go before
the curtain, and I could not move. He
stamped his foot and shouted:
“Come over here and take this call!"
and I called back: “I can't. I'm all
pinned up, so I can't walk!”
For, that my skirts might not fall away
from my ankles when I was being carried
across the stage, I had stood upon a
chair and had my garments tightly
wound about me and securely fastened,
and, unfortunately, the pins were behind
and I was all trussed up, nice and tight
and helpless.
Mr. Daly came tearing over to tne,
and down he went upon his knee to try
to free me. but a muttered "d—n!” told
me he could not find the pins, and the
applause—on, the precious applause!—
that was being wasted out there. Sudden
ly he rose, tossed that extraordinary hat
of his off. picked me up In his arms and
carried me like a big property doll to the
curtain's side, signalled It up, argj with
his arm about me, supported me on to
the stage.
■Oh. but I was proud to stand there
with him, for In those days he would
not make the simplest speech—would not
show himself even. Why, at the banquet
of his own giving he hid behind a big
floral piece and made Mr. Oakley Hall
speak for him. And yet he had been
pleased enough with my work to bring
me there himself. I saw his hand upon
ray shoulder, and suddenly stooped my
head and kissed It In purest gratitude.
Afterward, when I had been unpinned,
as we walked through the entrance to
gether, he said, with a gleeful laugh:
“This Is the third and the greatest, but
we share it."
"The third what?" I asked.
"The third surprise." he answered.
"First, you surprised the town in 'Man
and Wife;’ second, you surprised me In
TArticle 47.’ now Alixe. the greatest of
all surprises, you, as well as me." He
stepped In front of me and asked: "What
do you most wish for?"
I stared up at him. He added: "About
your home, say ”
And swiftly I made answer: “A writ
ing desk. Why?”
He laughed a little and said: “Good
night, now. Oh, by the way. there's a
forgeit against you for not wearing your
bustle to-night!”
But 1 was not greatly alarmed or ex
cited, not half so much as I was next
day about 4 o’clock, when some men drove
up and insisted upon, leaving in my room
a handsome Inlaid desk that was taller
than I was. At first I protested, but a
card saying that it was "A souvenir of
Alixe. from my manager and friend, A.
Daly,” changed my bearing to one of
must unseemly pride. Ip the next ten
days I wrote, I think, to every soul I
knew, and kept up my diary with vicious
exactitude for the pleasure of sitting be
fore the lovely desk that to-day stands In
my "den" :n the attic. Its mirror door
is dim and cloudy; its sky blue velvet
writing leaf la faded 1!o a silvery gray,
but, even so, It still remains “a souvenir
of Allxe,” from A. Daly.
Clara Morris.
MENDING THINGS.
Isinglass Dissolved In Gin Makes the
Best Cement for a Glass Fracture.
Broken glass, china, bric-a-brao and
picture frames, not to name casts, re
quire each a different cement—ln fact,
several different cements. Glass may
be beautifully mended, to look at, but
seldom so as to be safely used. For
clear glass the best cement Is Isinglass
dissolved in gin. Put two ounces of Isin
glass In a clean, wide-mouthed bottle,
add half a pint of gin, and set in the
sun until dissolved. Shake well every
day, and before using strain through
double lawn, squeezing very lightly.
Spread a white cloth over the mending
table and supply It with plenty of clean
linen rags, strong rubber bands and nar
row while tape, also basin of teped wa
ter, and a clean, soft towel. Wash the
broken glass very clean, especially along
the break, but take care not to chip It
further. Wet both broken edges well with
the glue, using a camels’ hair pencil. Fit
the break to a nicety, then slip on rub
ber bands length and crosswise, every
way they will hold. If they will not hold
true, as upon a stemmed thing, a vase,
or jug, or scent bottle, string half a
dozen bands of the same size and
strength upon a bit of tape, and tie the
tape about neck or base before beginning
the gluing. After the parts are Joined
slip another tape through the same
bands and tie It up above the fracture,
thus with all their strength the bands
pull the break together. The bands can
be used thus on casts or china—ln fact,
to hold together anything mendable. In
glass mending the greater the pressure
the better—if only It stops short of the
breaking point. Properly made, the is
inglass cement Is as clear as water.
When the pieces fit true, one on the
other, the break should be hardly visible,
if the pressure has been great enough
to force out the tiny bubbles, which oth
erwise refract the light, and make tne
line of cleavage distressingly apparent.
Mended glass may be used to hold dry
things—as rose leaves, sachets and violet
powder, even candles and fruits. But
it will not bear to have any sort of li
quid left standing in it. nor to be washed
beyond a quick rinsing In tepid water.
In wiping It always use a very soft towel,
and pat the vessel dry, with due regard
for Its infirmities.
Mending Lamps.
Mend a lamp loose In the collar with
sifted piaster of Paris mixed to a very
soft paste with beaten white of an egg.
Have everything ready before waiting up
the plaster and work quickly so It may
set in piece. With several lamps to mend
wet enough plaster for one at a time. It
takes less than five minutes to set, and
is utterly worthless If one tries working
it over. Metal work apart from the
glass needs the soldering Iron. Dust the
break well with powdered rosin, tie the
parts firmly together, lay the stick of
solder above the break and fetch the
Iron down on it lightly, but firmly. When
the Bolder cools remove the melted rosin
with a cloth dipped In alcohol.
A Sand Box.
Since breakables have so malicious a
knack of fracturing themselves In such
fashion they ran not possibly stand up
right one needs a sand box. 'lt Is only a
box of candy size with eight inches of
clean, coarslsh sand In the bottom. Along
with It there should be some small leaden
weight, with rings cast In them, running
from an ounce to a quarter pound. Two
of each weight are needed. In use, tapes
ore tied In the rings, and the pair of
weights swung outside the edges of the
box, so aa to press In place the upper
part of a broken thing to which the tapes
have been fastened.
Set broken platters on edge In the sand
box. with the break up. The sand will
hold them firm, and the broken hit can
be slapped on. It Is the same with plates
and saucers. None of these commonly
requires weighting. But very fine pieces
where Invisible seam Is wanted should be
held firm until partly set, then have the
pair of heaviest weights accurately bal-
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13 and 15 Broughton Street, West.
Seasonable Goods at Cut Prices
EMBROIDERIES.
Swiss, Cambric and
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Value 39c to 50c dozen; we sell them
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Black Velvet Ribbon, edge, piece 29c
Baby Ribbon, Best Quality, 50-yard spools 45c
Black Lace Galoons—all prices 10c to 75c
Ladies and Gents 25-ccnt all linen Handkerchiefs .... 15c
Plaited Satin Belts —nice quality -25 c
Ladies Parasols, worth $2.50, at ...$1.49
Ladies Madras Underskirts —special at 59c
Ladies Black and Colored Dress Skirts, fine value. .$3.98
Ladies White and Col’d Shirt Waists, $2 quality... $1.49
Turkish Towels, extra size 25c
Double Bed Sheets, good quality 49c
Cotton Diaper. 24-inch, 10-vard piece 69c
Mosquito Net Canopies—ready to hang up ..$1.49
White Dimities, Striped and Checked B%c
White India Linon, 15c quality'. ioc
Batiste Mull, very sheer, 40c value 29c
English Nainsook, 12-yard pieces—special at ..$1.69
Mistral Skirting, Cream and Navy, worth SI.OO 75c
Black Brilliantine, new line, special 50c quality 39c
Black Camels Hair Grenadines, worth $1.25 98c
Silk Grenadines, plain and figured, we close out at cost.
French Batiste, all wool, now 49 c
Black Peau de Soie, all Silk, value $1.25 95c
Black Taffeta Silk. 27-inch, SI.OO quality i..69c
Black India Silk—full line 35c yard up to $1.35
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The express steamships of this line are appointed to sail from Savannah, Cen
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SAVANNAH TO NEW YORK.
KANSAB CITY, Capt. Fisher, MONDAY. CITY OF AUGUSTA. Capt. Daggett.
May 20. at 6:30 p. m. MONDAY. May 27, at 1 p. m.
TALLAHASSEE, Capt. Askina, WED- NACOOCHEE, Ctapt. Smith, WEDNE3-
NEBDAY, May 22, at 9 a. m. DAY, May 29, at 2:30 p. m.
•CHATTAHOOCHEE, Capt. Lewis, FRI- KANSAS CITY, Capt. Fisher, FRIDAY,
DAY, May 24. at 11 a. m. May 31. at 3:30 p. m.
•Steamship Chattahoochee will carry only first cabin passengers.
Steamship City of Macon, Capt. Savage, will ply between New York and Bos
ton on the following schedule:
Leave New York for Boston, from New j Leave Boston for New York, Lewis'
Pier 33, North River (at 4:00 p. m.) Wharf (at 9a. m.) May 22, 29.
May 26. 1 t
This company reserves (he right to'change Its sailing without notice and
without liability or accountability therefor.
Sailings New York for Savananh Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 6 p. m.
W. G. BREWER, E. W. SMITH,
City Ticket and Passenger Agent, Soliciting Freight Agent, Savannah, Ga.
107 Bull street, Savannah, Ga. WALTER HAWKINS,
L. M. ERSKINE. General Agent, Traffic Department,
Agent, Savannah, Ga. 224 W. Bay St... Jacksonville, Fla.
P. E. LKFKVRE, W. H. PLEASANTS.
Manager. Traffic Manager,
New Pier 35, North River, New York. New Pier 35, North River, New York.
VIRGINIA MOUNTAIN RESORTS
AND. 14 M A,-..
COUNTRY HOMES FOR SUMMER BOARDERS.
In tbe Mineral Sprints Region of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Mountains,
Highest Altitude. KshHarntlnir Summer Climate. Greatest Variety of
Mineral Spring*. Grandest Moanlnln Surroundings.
ON THE LINE OF THE
CHESAPEAKE & OHIO RAILWAY
one of ths safest, best equipped and most picturesque trunk lines in America.
IN THIS FAVORED REGION ARE SITUATED 1
Virginia Hot Springs, Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs, Warm Springs, Healing
Springs, Rockbridge Alum Springs, Sweet Springs, Sweet Chalybeate Springs,
Natural Bridge, Red Sulphur Springs, Salt Sulphur Springs, The Alleghany
Hotel at Goshen, Vi.. The International Hotel at Covington. Va., and other
well known Health and Pleasura Resorts.
Descriptive pamphlets of Resorts and lists of Summer Homes, etc., can ba ob
tained by addressing
JAB. FREEMAN. C. P. and T. A . So. Ry, 141 Bull street. Savannah, Ga. ' 1
WARD CLARK, C. T. A., Plant, De Soto Hotel, Savannah, Ga.
F P. BCRt 008, C, P. A T. A., BA. L., cor. Bull and Bryan sts, Savannah Ga
Or JNO. D. POTTS. A. O. P. A„ C. A O. R'y, Richmond. Va. ‘
anced across the broken piece. The
weights are also very useful to prop and
stay top-heavy, and balance them no they
shall not get out of killer. A cup broken,
as la eo common with fhem. can have
the tape passed around It. crossing In
side the handle, then be set firmly In the
sand, face down, end bo held by the
hanging weights pulling one against the
other.
The most dependable cement for china
la pure white leod, ground In linseed oii,
eo thick It will barely spread smoothly
with a knife. Qlven time enough to hard
en. some three months, It makes a seam
practically lndastrudtlble. The question
to it la that it always shows in a staring
white line. A batter cement for fine china
la white of egg and plaster. 81ft tha plaa.
tar three times,, and tie a generous pinch
mi It loosely in mosquito netting. Than
boat the egg until It will stick to the plat
ter. Have the broken egg very clean,
cover both with the beaten egg, dust well
with the plaster, fit together at once tie,
using rubber bonds, if possible, grip
loosely In very soft tissue lwper and bury
head and ears In (he sand box. taking
care that the breuk Ilea so that the sand
will hold It together. Leave In the box
twenty-four hours. After a week the su
perfluous plaster may be gently scraped
away.
—A Laay Scoffer* Scheme.— " Martha,
you are a Christian Science believer?’*
"Of course, Jonas.’*
’’Wall, Martha, don’t clean bouse—Juat
■lt out In the yard, while I’m down town,
and give all the room* abeent treatment ’*
—Chicago Record-Herald.
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