The production which Morosco sent out with me was the thrown-together junk which had been used in the stock production. It was never intended to last more than a few weeks or to be moved! It was quite the worst collection of moth-eaten scenery and "properties" I ever saw. The company, with a very few exceptions, was recruited from the members of the Morosco stock companies who chanced to be idle at the moment. Some of the men, driven desperate by the nature of the backwoods country through which our route lay, were thoroughly intoxicated (and not infrequently blind drunk!) most of the time--and I for one had no heart to reprove them! Some of the towns we played are not on any map--the map could never survive it! From pillar to post we were yanked along over single-track railroads--with bits of our scenery falling out through open baggage doors all along the line! How that scenery ever managed to hang together as long as it did has always puzzled me. Finally we had to eliminate the London bridge scene. The platforms were so insecure it was positively dangerous for the actors to stand on them. This was one of the greatest and most effective scenes in the New York production and gave my leading woman, Miss Moreland, as Nancy, one of her biggest moments. The night before we took it off, in one of the smaller Coast towns, some of the gallery boys, noticing the stone (!) steps and huge pillars of granite (God save the mark!) wabbling to and fro, began to whistle "London Bridge is falling down"--and in a moment the whole house had taken it up! That was enough for me. After five weeks of miserable business we closed in Victoria and I returned to my beach home outside Los Angeles to the far more congenial task of completing this book. I sincerely hope you, dear reader, will find as much pleasure in reading what I've written as I have found in its composition. I have striven to be kind to everyone in these pages and if any of my criticisms appear harsh or my views on various subjects be considered arrogant, pray accept my apologies. I have written as I think and whatever the verdict I stand by my guns. What will the verdict be? I wonder. I say I returned to my home to complete this book. I did--and I thank the gods that Fate stepped in and for once was kindly enough disposed to permit me to write the most appropriate and happy finis any book of mine could have! * * * * * Fact and unconsecrated fields oppose faith and architecture. _Chapter LXXXVII_ NUMBER FIVE The day (a beautiful day in May, 1913, such a day as only Southern California at its happiest moment knows), I made Margaret Moreland my wife I once again set the buzzards and the gossips to wagging their ears and tongues and lashing their tails (I have always been sure both HAVE tails!). * * * * * My first (wife) was an angel; My second a silly woman; My third a Roman Senator; My fourth a pretty little thing;