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Actorviews
First Wit of the Lambs’ in the sedentary days before that club had become fistrionic. And Maurice Barrymore’s daughter was telling me how her father had one night met the dramatic scrutator of the Police Gazette, who had simpishly asked Mr. Barrymore if he’d seen the “roast” of his performance in the last issue.
“No,” the actor had said, “I shave myself.”
So we fell to talking of other wits and what they had said that was witty.
There was an actor who thought much of himself, but whom history has forgotten, who sought some sort of near stellar distinction in the program of a Barrie play in which he was to appear.
“How would it do,” this actor asked the author, “if my name came last on the program and you printed on the line above it the word ‘AND’?”
Miss Barrymore told me that Barrie had answered : “Why not ‘BUT’?”
She loves Barrie as much as I hope Sir James loves her for her exquisite performance in “Alice-Sitby-the-Fire” — which I hope she will revive some day after she has made a million dollars out of the fireworks of “Declass.ee.”
When we strayed from the wits we talked about the world’s series. This very fine, beautiful American lady knows baseball as she knows bridge and polo; nor are they the only games to which she thrills intelligently. I was reminded of a midnight telegram from the “road” which I received from her in a newspaper office many years ago: “In four hours I shall be in the degrading act of entraining for Lincoln, Neb. Meantime will you please wire me how many rounds