oved, and when he tried to describe to me that
wasted frame--those helpless hands, whose faintly twitching fingers could
no longer pluck at the folded sheet, my mind obstinately refused to
accept the picture, and instead, through a blur of tears, I saw him as on
that last morning, when in his prime, strong and gentle, at his rehearsal
of "Enoch Arden," he said to me: "I am disappointed to the very heart,
Clara, that you are not my _Annie Lee_."

He took his hat off, he drew his hand across his eyes. "I can't find
her," he said, with that touch of pathos that made his voice
irresistible; "no, I have not found her yet--they are not innocent and
brave! They are bouncing, buxom creatures or they are whimpering little
milk-sops. They are never fisher-maidens, flower-pure, yet strong as the
salt of the sea! She loved them both, Clara, yet she was no more weak nor
bad than when, with childish lips, she innocently promised to be 'a
little wife to both' the angry lads--to Philip and young Enoch! Now your
eyes are sea-eyes, and your voice--oh, I am disappointed! I thought I
should find my _Annie_ here!"

And so I see him now as I think with tender sorrow of the actor who was
so strong and yet so weak--dear Ned Adams!

When Mr. Joseph Jefferson came to us I found his acting nothing less than
a revelation. Here, in full perfection, was the style I had feebly,
almost blindly been reaching for. This man, this poet of _comedy_, as he
seemed to me, had so perfectly wedded nature to art that they were indeed
one. Here again I found the immense value of "business" the most minute,
the worth of restraint, if you had power to restrain, and learned that
his perfect naturalness was the result of his exquisite art in cutting
back and training nature's too great exuberance.

I was allowed to play _Meenie_, his daughter, in the play of "Rip Van
Winkle," and my delight knew no bounds. He was very gentle and kind, he
gave me pleasant words of praise for my work; he was very great, and--and
his eyes were fine, and I approved of his chin, too, and I was, in fact,
rapidly blending the actor and the man in one personality. In the last
act, when kneeling at his feet, during our long wait upon the stage, I
knelt and adored! and he--oh, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Jefferson, that I should
say it, but _did_ you not hold my fingers unnecessarily close when you
made some mild little remarks that were not in the play, but which filled
my breast with quite outrage