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LIFE AT HULL HOUSE— CHICAGO'S MELTIXG POT
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clows opening over the quadrangle, so that they are comparatively quiet. Chorus work is one of the principal features of all the organizations, and the occasional cantatas and Christmas carol singing are so beautiful that it is a matter of regret that the world at large may not come to Hull House to enjoy it.
"But the play — the play's the thing!"
Plays at Hull House are those which, once seen, will never be forgotten. There are Greek plays, Italian plays, Russian plays, Lettish plays, Yiddish plays, and last, but not least, children's plays. The men's club, the women's club and the boys' club each has a dramatic association. Each has its own really good talent, and each presents some very good plays during the season. The educational advantages of these plays have been made much of, with the result that the popular demand is for good, clean, wholesome plays.
The little children are at their best in the theater. They have ability, and it is developed under proper direction. If it were not, it would most certainly be developed in the wrong direction, and under conditions most appalling. Several years ago a visitor heard fragments of a conversation from a group of children in the vicinity. A blue-eyed, curly-haired sprite of a girl, so fragile and infantile in appearance that one was surprised that she could talk or sing at all, was
the center of admiration because, as the children excitedly exclaimed, ' ' she was throwed five dollars over at a Madison street theater on amateur night."
' ' Amateur night ? What is that ? ' ' inquired the stranger.
"Oh," was the reply, "that's the night when anybody can perform. If they like some one, the people throw monev. If they don't, they make 'em gooff."
' ' And what did you do, dear, at the theater ? ' ' the little girl was asked.
"I thung," lisped the child.
"Oh, she sings beautiful!" cried the chorus of admiring children.
' ' You darling baby ! What can you sing?" exclaimed the astonished visitor.
< ' I thung ' Thool Dath, ' ' ' lisped the little one.
Then, urged by her small audience, she bobbed a courtesy, demurely folded her tiny hands, and lisped two verses and the chorus of the popular song, ' ' School Days. ' '
"It is a shame ! ' ' cried the visitor. "You should have been safely tucked in your little bed at home, hearing your mother sing to you. Who ever took you to the theater?"
"Oh, she likes to go," volunteered an older child. "Her mother takes her. She needs the money. We all of us go, if we can, on amateur nights. But you don't get money throwed you unless you're good; but Lily here, she's so little they like her, and al
A COMEDY AT THE THEATER