Shakespeare Stories. 137 



were in this hallowed region many stories were told about 

 Shakespeare. Two of the gentlemen of our party, at 

 least, dated our love of letters to the circumstance that 

 we were messenger boys in the Pittsburgh telegraph 

 office ; and when we carried telegrams to the managers 

 of the theatre, good kind Mr. Porter (followed by one 

 equally kind to us, Mr. Foster) permitted us after deliv- 

 ering th ^m to pass up to the gallery among the gods, 

 where we heard now and then one of the immortal plays. 

 Having heard the melodious flow of words, which of 

 themselves seem to have some spiritual meaning apart 

 from the letter — differing in this from all other combina- 

 tions of words — how could we rest till we got the plays 

 and learnt most of the notable passages by heart, croon- 

 ing over them till they became parts of our intellectual 

 being? One story, I remember, shows how completely 

 the master pervades literature. It is authentic, too, for 

 the teller was one of the actors in it. 



Visiting friends in a country town, he went with the 

 family to church Sunday morning. The clergyman 

 called in the evening and seeing upon the parlor table 

 an open copy of Shakespeare, perhaps suspecting (which 

 was true) that our friend had been entertaining the ladies 

 with selections from it, Sunday evening as it was, he felt 

 moved to say that it was the worldling's bible, which for 

 himself he thought but little of and never recommended 

 for general reading. It was the mainstay of the theatre. 

 That is very strange, said our friend, for we have all been 



