je n'aurais pas mon
talent."

Coming back then to her Kentucky home from the ill-starred Californian
trip, Mary Anderson seems to have determined to essay again the lowest
steps of the ladder of fame. She took a summer engagement with a company,
which was little else than a band of strolling players. The _repertoire_
was of the usual ambitious character, and Mary was able to assume once
more her favorite _role_ of Juliet. The company was deficient in a Romeo,
and the part was consequently undertaken by a lady--a _role_ by the way in
which Cushman achieved one of her greatest triumphs. In spite, however, of
the young star, the little band played to sadly empty houses, and the
treasury was so depleted that, in the generosity of her heart, Mary
Anderson proposed to organize a benefit _matinee_, and play Juliet. She
went down to the theater at the appointed hour and dressed for her part.
After some delay a man strayed into the pit, then a couple of boys peeped
over the rails of the gallery, and, at last, a lady entered the
dress-circle. The disheartened manager was compelled at length to appear
before the curtain and announce that, in consequence of the want of public
support, the performance could not take place. That day Mary Anderson
walked home to her hotel through the quiet streets of the little Kentucky
town--which shall be nameless--with a sort of miserable feeling at her
heart, that the world had no soul for the great creations of Shakespeare's
master-mind, which had so entranced her youthful fancy. It all seemed like
a descent into some chill valley of darkness, after the sweet incense of
praise, the perfume of flowers, and the crowded theaters which had been
her earlier experiences. But the dark storm cloud was soon to pass over,
and henceforth almost unbroken sunshine was to attend Mary Anderson's
career. For her there was to be no heart-breaking period of mean
obscurity, no years of dull unrequited toil. She burst as a star upon the
theatrical world, and a star she has remained to this day, because,
through all her successes, she never for a moment lost sight of the fact
that she could only maintain her ground by patient study, and steady
persistent hard work. Failures she had unquestionably. Her rendering of a
part was often rough, often unfinished. Not uncommonly she was surpassed
in knowledge of stage business by the most obscure member of the companies
with whom she played; but the public recognized instinct