In a North of England town recently a company of local amateurs produced

Hamlet, and the following account of the proceedings appeared in the

local paper next morning:

"Last night all the fashionables and elite of our town gathered to

witness a performance of _Hamlet_ at the Town Hall. There has been

considerable discussion in the press as to whether the play was written

by Shakespeare or Bacon. All doubt can be now set at rest. Let their

graves be opened; the one who turned over last night is the author."

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An "Uncle Tom's Cabin" company was starting to parade in a small New

England town when a big gander, from a farmyard near at hand waddled to

the middle of the street and began to hiss.

One of the double-in-brass actors turned toward the fowl and angrily

exclaimed:

"Don't be so dern quick to jump at conclusions. Wait till you see the

show."

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When William H. Crane was younger and less discreet he had a vaunting

ambition to play _Hamlet_. So with his first profits he organized his

own company and he went to an inland western town to give vent to his

ambition and "try it on."

When he came back to New York a group of friends noticed that the actor

appeared to be much downcast.

"What's the matter, Crane? Didn't they appreciate it?" asked one of his

friends.

"They didn't seem to," laconically answered the actor.

"Well, didn't they give any encouragement? Didn't they ask you to come

before the curtain?" persisted the friend.

"Ask me?" answered Crane. "Man, they dared me!"