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30                             A   FEW   MEMORIES
of   my  little  room   until   morning.    The   ni passed   like  an  hour.    Before the dawn   I mapped out a stage career for myself.    Thus having had no fixed aim of my own making liking, I had frittered  my time  away.    The realized that my idle life must end, and that in study and severe training would have to be un< taken; this in secret, however, for there was one to go to for sympathy, help, or advice in s a  venture.    Indignant  that  all  my people   1 in times gone by, looked upon so noble an as harmful, if not sinful, I felt no prick of c science in determining to work out clandestir what seemed to me then  my life's  mission, was fourteen years of age, inexperienced and educated, but I had not a moment of doubt fear.    Mr.  Booth's * other  performances inte fied my admiration for his art, and strengthei me in my resolution.    Who can ever forget Hamlet?     Where   shall  we   find   another   si lago, Richard, Macbeth, Shylock?    Surely,
*That charming woman and artist, Helen Faucit (Lady Ma] once told me that, since Macready, few actors had approached Booth in intellectuality, perfect elocution, grace, personal magne or the power of complete identification with his characters. It v great pride to me, an American, that this gifted and severely cr; Englishwoman appreciated so unstintedly our beloved actor.