me, but, alas, _it_ recovered directly,
having no hysterics to battle with, while I buried my head deep in the
sofa-pillows and rolled and screamed and wept and bit my lips, clinched
my hands, and vainly fought for my self-control; while all the time I saw
a pair of trousers cut from that awful wall-paper, and Mr. Owens just
bulged his white shiny eyes at me and pranced about and rejoiced at my
downfall, while the audience, seeing what the trouble was, laughed all
over again, and--and--well, "my hash" was very thoroughly "settled," even
to the entire satisfaction of Mr. Owens's self.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD

From the "Wild West" I Enter the Eastern "Parlor of Home Comedy"--I
Make my First Appearance in "Man and Wife."

The original Fifth Avenue Theatre was a tiny affair, with but small
accommodation for the public and none at all for the actor, unless he
burrowed for it beneath the building; and indeed the deep, long basement
was wonderfully like a rabbit-warren, with all its net-work of narrow
passageways, teeming with life and action. The atmosphere down there was
dreadful--I usually prefer using a small word instead of a large one, but
it would be nonsense to speak of the "air" in that green-room, because
there was none. Atmosphere was there stagnant, heavy, dead, with not even
an electric fan to stir it up occasionally, and the whole place was
filled with the musty, mouldy odor that always arises from carpets spread
in sunless, airless rooms. Gas, too, burned in every tiny room, in every
narrow slip of passageway, and though it was all immaculately clean, it
was still wonderful how human beings endured so many hours imprisonment
there.

It was on a very hot September morning that the company was called
together in the green-room of the Fifth Avenue Theatre. This first "call"
of the season is generally given over to greetings after the vacation, to
chattings, to introductions, to welcomes, and a final distribution of
parts in the first play, and a notification to be on hand promptly next
morning for work. With a heavily throbbing heart I prepared for the
dreaded first meeting with all these strange people, and when I grew
fairly choky, I would say to myself, "What nonsense, Mr. Daly or the
prompter will be there, and in the general introductions you will, of
course, be included, and after that you will be all right--a smile, a
bow, or a kind word will cost no more in a New York theatre than in any
other