, who I was. I'm no theater manager."

"But you wrote me you had a theater. I am here with my company ready to
give a performance and you have neither stage nor scenery in your hall.
How do you expect me to put the show on?"

"Why! don't you carry your stage and scenery?" the man asked, in candid
surprise.

"Certainly not. And you should know it. You haven't even got a seat sale
on."

The hotel man began to get excited. "What the hell have I got to do with
selling tickets? If you don't carry your own tickets you're a purty
cheap concern. I don't propose to be brow-beaten by you. If you don't
like the place the road runs both ways out of it." And he walked away
from the minstrel man in high dudgeon.

Seats were borrowed from the Court House, the Methodist Church, the
hotel, anywhere they could be secured. A half dozen carpenters were
working on the improvised stage until the minute the curtain went up.
The dining room of the hotel was converted into a dressing room. After
supper was served the minstrel trunks were placed in the dining room.
Pickles, crackers, ginger snaps, etc., were all in place on the table
for an early morning breakfast. The minstrels ate the tables bare,
ransacked cupboards and sideboards in kitchen and dining room, feasting
and frolicking during the performance.

The bar adjoined the dining room. The minstrels blackened and in their
stage attire, they said to the peg-legged barkeeper: "These are on me;
I've got on my other clothes; I'll settle after the show."

The dressing, or dining room, was about twenty yards from the stage of
the hall. As there was no stage door, (only a front door in the hall),
the minstrel men were obliged to enter by a window. The sash taken out,
leaned against the wall. In the piano chorus of a most pathetic ballad,
both window sashes fell over. The crashing glass brought the entire
audience to their feet. The hall owner stepped over the low footlights
onto the stage, brushing the semi-circle of surprised minstrels to one
side. Disappearing behind the curtain, he reappeared in an instant,
bearing in either hand a window sash with shattered bits of glass
sticking here and there. Crossing the stage, at the instant the
interlocutor announced the singing of the reigning song success,
"There's a Light in the Window for You," placing the sash in front of
the stage, he seated himself.

The stage, or platform, was very low. The sash stuck up several inches
above the footl