man sat the soldier down on the floor, foot to foot before him.
Both grasped a pole, and it was the strong man's "act" to throw
the soldier over his head, on to a mattress just back of the strong
man. It is a simple act; one that soon would tire Broadway, but
when one remembers that soldiers bring their local pride with them
to Paris from the ends of the earth, from New Zealand, from India,
from Canada, from South Africa, from Morocco, from China, from
Australia, and then when one remembers that the men of his country
are gathered in the theater to back every local athlete, it is
easy to see why the strong man holds week after week, month after
month, season after season. Every night some proud nation gathers
in the show house to get that fifty dollars with its favourite
son. And every night some favourite son almost gets it. And if the
strong man didn't fudge a little, pinch the favourite son's hands
on the pole and make him let go, almost every night the strong man
would be worsted. The struggle sets the house yelling. It is the
only real drama in Paris. We noticed that the shows of Paris which
appealed to the eyes and ears were far below the American standard.
In comedy which appeals to something behind the sense, in the higher
grades of acting, the Paris shows were, on the whole, better than
Broadway shows. But in the choruses, the dancers lack that finish,
that top dressing of mechanical unison required by American taste.
Moreover the lighting and colour were poor. The music at the Follies
was Victor Herbert of 1911! Old American popular songs seemed to be
in vogue. One heard "O Johnny" and "Over There" at every vaudeville
house this year. Sometimes they were done in French, sometimes
in English. In Genoa, one may say in passing that we heard one of
the songs from "Hitchy-Coo" done in Italian. It was eery! American
artists are popular in Paris. We saw a girl at three show houses
in Paris, under the name of Betty Washington, doing a gipsy dance,