man--a character admirably adapted for the entire cast of the average
amateur dramatic performer. He had very little to say, a sort of
'The-carriage-waits-my-lord' declamation, but he had to say it with
thrilling and startling earnestness. He was to rush in on a love scene
bubbling like a mush-pot with billing and cooing, and paralyze the
lovers by shrieking 'Woe! Woe! unto ye all, ye children of men!'
Throwing up his arms, after the manner of the Fourth of July orator's
justly celebrated windmill gesture, he roared, in his thunderous
voice: 'Woe! Woe! unto ye--'

"That was as far as the declamation got, although the actor went
considerably farther. The obedient horse, never averse to standing
still, suddenly and firmly planted his feet and stood--motionless as a
painted horse upon a painted highway. Russell, obedient to the laws of
inertia, made a parabola over the dashboard, landed on the back of the
patient beast, ricochetted to the ground, cutting his forehead on the
shaft as he descended, a scar whereof he carries unto this day, and
plunged into a yielding cushion of mud at the roadside."

He returned home, a confused mixture of blood, mud, black eyes and
torn clothes. Such a condition must be explained. It could not
be turned aside by any off-handed joke. The jeers and jibes, the
unsympathetic and irritating comments effectually killed any desire
he cherished for the life of the stage. It became a sore subject. He
didn't even want it mentioned in his hearing. He never again thought
of it seriously as a life work.

But one thing these entertainments did that was of great value. They
developed and fostered a love of music and eventually led to his
gaining the musical education which has proven of such value to him.