te of despair and
panic, she suddenly broke into shrill laughter. Two women came in, and
one said; "Why, what on earth's the matter? Have they blown you up for
your didoes to-night? What need you care. You pleased the audience."
The other said, quietly: "Just get a glass of water for her; she has
a touch of hysteria. I wonder who caused it?" No person had caused it.
Clara Morris was merely waking from a sound sleep, unconsciously
visioning that woman of the dim future who was to conquer the public
in her portrayal of great elemental human emotion.

With incessant work and study, and a firm determination to stop short
of nothing less than the perfection of art, those early years of Clara
Morris's life on the stage went swiftly by, and in her third season
she was more than ever what she herself called "the dramatic
scrape-goat of the company," one who was able to play any part at a
moment's notice.

"This reputation was heightened when one day, an actor falling
suddenly sick, Mr. Ellsler, with a furrowed brow, begged Clara to play
the part. Nothing daunted, the challenge was calmly accepted, and in
one afternoon she studied the part of King Charles, in 'Faint Heart
Never Won Fair Lady,' and played it in borrowed clothes and without
any rehearsal whatever, other than finding the situations plainly
marked in the book! It was an astonishing thing to do, and she was
showered with praise for the performance; but even this success did
not better her fortunes, and she went on playing the part of boys and
old women, or singing songs when forced to it, going on for poor
leading parts even, and between times dropping back into the ballet,
standing about in crowds, or taking part in a village dance."

It was certainly an anomalous position she held in Mr. Ellsler's
company--but she accepted its ups and downs without resistance, taking
whatever part came to hand, gaining valuable experience from every new
role assigned her, and hoping for a time when the returns from her
work would be less meager.

She was not yet seventeen when the German star, Herr Daniel Bandmann,
came to play with the company. He was to open with "Hamlet," and Mrs.
Bradshaw, who by right should have played the part of Queen Mother,
was laid up with a broken ankle. Miss Morris says: "It took a good
deal in the way of being asked to do strange parts to startle me, but
the Queen Mother did it. I was just nicely past sixteen, and I was to
go on the stage for the