g heir to Viola Allen's
_Renee_.

The aftermath of the Spanish-American War nearly lost Edeson to the stage,
as for a time he seriously thought of going to Porto Rico as the agent for
a house selling sporting goods. Luckily he changed his mind and accepted a
position as leading man in the splendid cast Amelia Bingham collected for
"The Climbers."

This play, in the estimation of some critics, made Mr. Edeson, and in the
winter of 1902 he became a star on his own account, with Augustus Thomas's
dramatization of Richard Harding Davis's "Soldiers of Fortune" as the
vehicle.

HITCHCOCK SOLD DRY GOODS.

His Original Assets Consisted of a Shirt,
a Pair of Shoes, a Trunk, and
Much Cheerful Impudence.

The other day I happened to run across Raymond Hitchcock at lunch in the
Players' Club. I reminded him of the request I had made him for material
with which to enrich this department of THE SCRAP BOOK.

"Yes, you'll get it," he assured me, in that rugged intonation which does
so much to infuse fun into his remarks on the stage, "I spent a good hour
over the typewriter yesterday, pouring into it the story of my life. May
you survive the reading thereof."

He had "poured" to such good purpose that not only did I survive the
reading of his autobiography, but the screed itself was found worthy of
survival in its original form, and I am giving it to the reader herewith.

The Actor's Own Story.

I came down from Auburn, New York, with twenty-five dollars in my clothes,
and the "absolute certainty" that New York was clamoring for me--as I had
been a hit in an amateur performance in Auburn and everybody said I "just
ought to go on the stage." The twenty-five dollars was soon only a bright
spot in my memory, and I found that, while I was well known in Auburn, not
even the street-car drivers knew me in New York.

After a bit, I fell in with a fellow who was a regular "theatrical
agency." He had just about as much money as I had, and as we were doubtful
pay in the boarding-house where we were stopping, we were relegated to the
attic, where we roomed together, at five per week, which was charged
against us on Saturday night.

He took me over and introduced me to Colonel T. Allston Brown, who had an
office on Union Square, and from his office I received my first
postal-card telling me "to call." Of course, I applied for nothing but the
"leading part." Knowing nothing of the business I, naturally, was a
"leading man."