first entrance on a large tray carried by a waiter. Then she was taken from the tray into somebody's arms and tossed from one nurse to another throughout the farce, until finally, as it ends, she is lodged safely in the arms of Mr. Jones, her distracted father. To her credit, be it recorded, she never whimpered or made any outcry or showed any signs of alarm, but played her first part bravely, though perhaps unconsciously; winning the admiration and love of the entire company. It was a lucky accident that Maude was in the theatre that evening, for her mother was not in the habit of bringing her to the theatre when she had any one at home to take care of her, but this evening was the "nurse's evening out," and "Maudie" had to be toted to the theatre and carefully put to sleep before mamma could "make up" and go through her part. Here she was safely stowed away in a safe and quiet corner of the green room, where she had been blissfully reposing all through the first play, and was now rather rudely awakened to fill the distressing emergency. It will be readily seen from this narration that Maude Adams was virtually "born to the stage," her mother studying assiduously and playing parts both before and after Maude's birth, often taking Maudie with her, both to rehearsals and performances, so that she became a familiar little object in the theatre before she could walk or talk, and long before she could ever essay a speaking part she was the pet of the Green Room. We had a Green Room in the Salt Lake Theatre in those days, and a very capacious and comfortable one, too. Such a commodious and luxurious adjunct is scarcely known in the theatres today. Here the actors could retire between the acts or during the scenes they were not engaged in, and study over their lines, or if already easy in their parts, pass the time in reading or social chat. It was the prompter's business to send the "call boy" to the Green Room and all dressing rooms to "call the act," a few minutes before he was ready to "ring up." The act being called, each actor was required to be at his entrance on time; if he should be late and make a "stage wait," the stage manager might reprimand him, and impose a fine. Fines were also imposed for being tardy at rehearsals. There was seldom any occasion for the enforcement of this penalty, except in the case of "Jim" Hardie. "Jim" was a notorious laggard, and often kept the company waiting for him. On one occasion the company had been waiting his arrival for fifteen or twenty minutes, when he strode in very hurriedly and taking the centre of the stage, took off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow, began an apology to the stage manager for being late. He had only just begun to talk when a general laugh broke the gravity of the occasion. Jim had just come from the barber's where he had his head shaved, and his entire scalp down to the hat line was as smooth as a billiard ball.