o get some Scenery built and rally a large Drove of Artists--
most of them carrying Hand Bags.

During Rehearsals the brutal Stage Manager wanted to cut the Gizzard
out of the Book and omit most of the sentimental Arias, but Mr. Words
and Mr. Music emitted such shrieks of protest against the threatened
Sacrilege that he allowed all the select home-made Guff to remain in
the Script.

He thought it would serve them right.

When they gave the first Real Performance in a Dog Town on a drizzly
evening in November, there was not Social Eclat to fill the sails.

The House was mostly Paper and therefore very Missouri.

Also a full delegation from the Coffin-Trimmers' Union with Cracked Ice
in their Laps.

They did not owe any Money to the Author or have any Kinfolk in the
Cast, so they sat back with their Hands under them and allowed the
pretty little Opera to die like an Outcast.

The only Laugh in the Piece was when the Drop Curtain refused to work.

After the Show the Manager met them at an Oyster House and told them
they had eased a Persimmon to him.

He said the whole Trick was a Bloomer. It was just as funny as a
Wooden Leg. It needed much Pep and about two tons of Bokum.

Both Words and Music refused to countenance any radical Changes.
They said it would be another "Cavalleria" as soon as they could do it
before an intelligent Audience of True-Lovers.

The Ex-Minstrel Man said there wasn't no such Animal as an intelligent
Play-goer.

The Simp that pushed his Metal into the Box Office wanted Something
Doing every minute and many Gals, otherwise it was back to the Store-
House and a Card in the Clipper.

The Call on the Board read "Everybody at Ten," but the brainy Writer
and the versatile Composer were not included.

When they appeared at the Stage Door they were met by Props, who told
them to get to a certain Place out of there.

Standing in the Alley, they could hear Wails of Anguish, and they knew
that their Child was having the Vital Organs removed.

The celebrated Author of the Graveyard Rag had been summoned in haste.
He was in charge of the Clinic--taking out the Grammar and putting in
Gags.

The Duos and Ensembles were being dropped through the Trap Door to make
way for recent Song Hits from the alcoholic Cabarets.

The Ax fell right on the powdered Neck of the beautiful Prima Donna,
who had studied for Grand Opera, but never had been able to find an
Orchestra that would fit her Voice.