up and bowing like toy mandarins.

The utility man was generally not a man, but a large, gloomy boy, whose
mustache would not grow, and whose voice would crack over the few lines
he was invited to address to the public. He sometimes led mobs, but more
often made brief statements as to the whereabouts of certain
carriages--and therein laid his claim to utility.

Then came the leading lady, the first old woman (who was sometimes the
heavy woman), the first singing soubrette, the walking ladies, the second
soubrette (and boys' parts), the utility woman, and the ladies of the
ballet. These were the principal "lines of business," and in an artistic
sense they bound actors both hand and foot; so utterly inflexible were
they that the laws of the Medes and Persians seemed blithe and friendly
things in comparison.

"Oh, I can't play that; it's not in my line!" "Oh, yes, I sing, but the
singing don't belong to my line!" "I know, he _looks_ the part and I
don't, but it belongs to my line!" and so, nearly every week, some
performance used to be marred by the slavish clinging to these defined
"lines of business."

Mr. Augustin Daly was the first manager who dared to ignore the absolute
"line." "You must trust my judgment to cast you for the characters you
are best suited to perform, and you must trust my honor not to lower or
degrade you, by casting you below your rightful position, for I will not
be hampered and bound by any fixed 'lines of business.'" So said he to
all would-be members of his company. The pill was a trifle bitter in the
swallowing, as most pills are, but it was so wholesome in its effect that
ere long other managers were following Mr. Daly's example.

But to return to our mutton. If the family theatre was disliked by those
who had already won recognized positions, it was at least an ideal place
in which a young girl could begin her professional life. The manager, Mr.
John A. Ellsler, was an excellent character-actor as well as a first old
man. His wife, Mrs. Effie Ellsler, was his leading woman--his daughter
Effie, though not out of school at that time, acted whenever there was a
very good part that suited her. The first singing soubrette was the wife
of the prompter and the stage-manager. The first old woman was the mother
of the walking lady, and so it came about that there was not even the
pink flush of a flirtation over the first season, and, though another
season was shaken and thrilled through and throug