han his fellows, was gracious enough to remark that, in spite of
her mean capacity as an artist, she possessed a neck like a column of
marble. It was only when she appeared as Meg Merrilies that the
Californians thawed a little, and the press relented somewhat. Edwin Booth
happened to be in San Francisco at the time, and it was on the stage of
California that Mary Anderson first met the distinguished actor who had
been her early stage ideal. He told her that for ten years he had never
sat through a performance till hers; and the praises of the great
tragedian went far to console her for the coldness and want of sympathy in
the general public. It was by Booth's advice, as well as John
McCullough's, that she now began to study such parts as Parthenia, as
better suited to her powers than more somber tragedy. Those were the old
stock theater days in America, when every theater had a fair standing
company, and relied for its success on the judicious selection of stars.
This system, though perhaps a somewhat vicious one, made so many
engagements possible to Mary Anderson, whose means would not have admitted
of the costlier system of traveling with a special company.

The return journey from California was made painfully memorable by a
disastrous accident to a railway train which had preceded the party, and
they were compelled to stop for the night at a little roadside town in
Missouri. The hotels were full of wounded passengers, and scenes of
distress were visible on all sides. When they were almost despairing of a
night's lodging, a plain countryman approached them, and offered the
hospitality of his pretty white cottage hard by, embosomed in its trees
and flowers. The offer was thankfully accepted, and soon after their
arrival the wife's sister, a "school mar'm," came in, and seemed to warm
at once to her beautiful young visitor. She proposed a walk, and the two
girls sallied forth into the fields. The stranger turned the subject to
Shakespeare and the stage, with which Mary Anderson was fain to confess
but a very slight acquaintance, fearing the announcement of her profession
would shock the prejudices of these simple country folk, who might shrink
from having "a play actress" under their roof. Some months after the party
had returned home there came a letter from these kind people saying how,
to their delight and astonishment, they had accidentally discovered who
had been their guest. It seemed the sister was an enthusiasti