iancy and lustre; this, added to his power of rolling them
wildly about in their sockets, made them very funny; indeed, they
reminded many people of a pair of large peeled onions.

I think his most marked peculiarity was his almost frantic desire to
provoke laughter in the actors about him. He would willingly throw away
an entire scene--that is, destroy the illusion of the audience--in order
to secure a hearty laugh from some actor or actress whom he knew not to
be easily moved to laughter; and what was more astonishing still, if an
actress in playing a scene with him fell from tittering into helpless
laughter and failed to speak her lines, he made no angry protest, but
regarded the situation with dancing eyes and delighted smiles, seeming to
accept the breakdown as proof positive that he was irresistible as a
fun-maker.

For some reason I never could laugh at "Solon Shingle." Mr. Owens had
opened in that part, and as I stood in the entrance watching the
performance, my face was as grave as that of the proverbial judge. He
noticed it at once, and paused a moment to stare at me. Next morning,
just as he entered and crossed to the prompt-table at rehearsal, I, in
listening to a funny story, broke out in my biggest laugh. Open flew the
star's eyes, up slid his eyebrows.

"Ha! ha!" said he, "ha! ha! there's a laugh for you--by Jove, that's a
laugh as is a laugh!"

I turned about and faced him. He recognized me instantly. "Well, blast my
cats!" he exclaimed, "say, you young hyena, you're the girl that wouldn't
laugh at me last night. I thought you couldn't, and just listen to your
roars now over some tomfoolery. What was the matter with me, if you
please, mum?"

I stood in helpless, awkward embarrassment, then, drawing in his lip and
bulging out his eyes until they threatened to leap from their places, he
advanced upon me, exclaiming: "Spare me these protestations and
explanations, I beg!" then tapped me on the chest with his forefinger
and, added, in a different tone: "My young friend, I'll make you laugh or
I'll cut my throat!" next turned on his heel, and called: "Everybody
ready for the first act? Come on, come on, let's get at it!"

Rehearsal began and Mr. Owens did not have to cut his throat.

Funny in many things, it was the old farce of "Forty Winks" that utterly
undid me, and not only sat me violently and flatly down upon the entrance
floor, but set me shrieking with such misguided force that next day all
th