may have been admired in other characters, I do truly believe
that only those who have seen him in "Othello" and "Morte Civile" can
fully appreciate the marvellous art of the actor. I carry in my mind two
pictures of him,--Othello, the perfect animal man, in his splendid
prime, where, in a very frenzy of conscious strength, he dashes Iago to
the earth, man and soldier lost in the ferocity of a jungle male beast,
jealously mad--an awful picture of raging passion. The other, Conrad,
after the escape from prison; a strong man broken in spirit, wasted with
disease, a great shell of a man--one who is legally dead, with the
prison pallor, the shambling walk, the cringing manner, the furtive
eyes. But oh, that piteous salute at that point when the priest
dismisses him, and the wrecked giant, timid as a child, humbly,
deprecatingly touches the priest's hand with his finger-tips and then
kisses them devoutly! I see that picture yet, through tears, just as I
saw for the first time that illustration of supreme humility and
veneration.

Oh, never mind a little extravagance with personal pronouns! A beloved
father, a very thorough gentleman, but above all else the greatest actor
of his day. There is but the one Salvini, and how can he help knowing
it? So to book and author--ready! _Viva Salvini!_

_CHAPTER XX

FRANK SEN: A CIRCUS EPISODE_

The circus season was over, the animals had gone into comfortable winter
quarters, while the performers, less fortunate than the beasts, were
scattered far and near, "some in rags and some in tags, and some" (a
very few) "in velvet gowns." But one small group had found midwinter
employment, a party of Japanese men and women, who were jugglers,
contortionists, and acrobats; and as their work was pretty as well as
novel, they found a place on the programme of some of the leading
vaudeville theatres.

They were in a large Western city. Behind the curtain their retiring
manners, their exquisite cleanliness, their grave and gentle
politeness, made them favourites with the working forces of the theatre,
while before the curtain the brilliant, graceful precision with which
they carried out their difficult, often dangerous, performance won them
the high favour of the public.

On that special day the matinee was largely attended, the theatre being
filled, even to the upper circles, as at night. Smilingly the audience
had watched the movements of the miniature men and women in their
handsom