in half a dozen different
parts, in this country, in England, and Australia, he began giving the
most wonderful play of all--the one always called his masterpiece--"Rip
Van Winkle." In a few years he had all the fame, wealth, and praise that
a man could ask for. The little fellow who, at four years of age, was
blacked up to dance "Jim Crow" and gathered twenty-four dollars for his
queer antics, forty years later could easily count on a thousand dollars
for one night's appearance in Rip Van Winkle. But we must not forget how
hard and patiently he had worked for this. We must not forget what he
had actually done. He had educated himself so that he had friends among
the most cultivated people in the world; he was quoted as one of the
most polished and finished actors in America; and he had earned enough
money to bring up his own children in luxury.

Joe Jefferson had a lovely old age. He bought a large southern estate,
where he spent the winter months, and he owned a summer home at
Buzzard's Bay, Massachusetts, where he fished and painted pictures to
his heart's content, and where he entertained many distinguished
people. After he stopped playing, except once in a while, and intended
to retire from the stage, every now and then there would be such a call
for him that he would consent to give "Rip Van Winkle" just once more.
He must have been about perfect in this play, else how is it that old
theater-goers look so happy and satisfied when they say: "Ah, you should
have seen the great Joe Jefferson in Rip Van Winkle!"

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

When Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the poet, was a boy, he lived in
Portland, Maine. In those days Portland did much trading with the West
Indies, and Henry and his boy friends liked to stay down at the wharves
when the Portland vessels came in. It was sport to watch the burly
negroes unload the hogsheads of molasses, the barrels of sugar, and the
spices. The boys used to wish they were sailors or captains, so that
they could sail across the water and perhaps have great adventures.
Henry also thought it would suit him to be a soldier, and when he was
five years old, and there was much talk about the great war which is
called the War of 1812, he sent a letter to his father, who happened to
be away at the time, that he had a toy gun already, and if his father
would please buy him a drum, he would start right off for the
battle-field. Probably he was not as warlike as he fanci