was one about a street Arab with the words: "Let
me hold your nag, sir, carry your little bag, sir, any-
thing you please to give -- thank'ee, sir!" She used
to close her hand, then open it and look at the palm,
then touch her cap with a very wonderful smile, and
laugh when she said, "Thank'ee, sir!" This song
was reproduced for weeks before the benefit, and played
all over London, and when the curtain rose on her,
the orchestra struck into it and the people shouted as
though it was the national anthem. Wyndham made
a very good address and so did Terry, then Wyndham
said he would try to get her to speak. She has lost
the use of her hands and legs and can only walk with
crutches, so he put his arm around her and her son
lifted her from the other side and then brought her to
her feet, both crying like children. You could hear
the people sobbing, it was so still. She said, "Ladies
and Gentleman," looking at the stalls and boxes, then
she turned her head to the people on the stage below
her and said, "Brothers and Sisters," then she stood
looking for a long time at the gallery gods who had
been waiting there twenty hours. You could hear a
long "Ah" from the gallery when she looked up there,
and then a "hush" from all over it and there was
absolute silence. Then she smiled and raised her finger
to her bonnet and said, "Thank'ee, sir," and sank
back in her chair. It was the most dramatic thing I
ever saw on a stage. The orchestra struck up "Auld
Lang Syne" and they gave three cheers on the stage
and in the house. The papers got out special editions,
and said it was the greatest theatrical event there
had ever been in London.

DICK.

-226-