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The other members of the company were scattered about the schooner which was being towed out to sea. Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon were waving to some young men who had come to see them off. Mr. Wellington Bunn's face wore a glum look. Perhaps he saw no chance of doing anything with his favorite role of Hamlet in this marine story that was soon to be enacted.
Are we to think all the butchers, conquerors, and destroyers of mankind, great men, because their own age was terrified at their power, and proclaimed them heroes? The time may come when the great Bunn's efforts to make Drury-Lane into a squeaking, dancing, and dirty imitation of the Italian Opera, will not be considered conducive to the triumph of the legitimate English drama.
Bunn's at Drury Lane, in March, 1844, and in May of the same year he appeared at the fifth Philharmonic concert and played Beethoven's concerto with very great success. In this year two other violinists of note made their first appearance at the Philharmonic concerts, Ernst and Sainton, also Piatti, the great violoncellist.
Only it is almost impossible not to struggle against the impending fate. With the skirt-rope about him, and his friends pulling on it, Mr. Bunn's hand were free. Seeing this, and realizing that the more force that was applied, up to a certain point, the sooner would the actor be freed, Ruth cried: "If we had another rope we girls could help, and Mr.
This was indeed but too true. Whereas at first the clinging mud and sand of the bog hole had only been up to Mr. Bunn's knees, he was now engulfed to his waist. "We'll have to make a rope!" cried Mr. Towne. "Tear up our coats, or something like that." "I know a way, Ruth," declared Alice. "We have on two skirts. The under one is of heavy cloth. Couldn't we tear those into strips ?" "Of course!
He accepted with equanimity a dozen drinks of whisky thrust at him from all sides, swigged a mug of the coffee a few practical women were making over an open fire, and opposed to Leopold Lincoln Bunn's frantic efforts a stolid and baffling density. Of none of these attentions did he seem to stand in especial need. The crew and its volunteers worked quickly.
It was not to be his good fortune, however, to be in the earlier work of the day. Until afternoon he was kept within the walls of Worcester, chafing to be where hard knocks were being dealt with Montgomery at Powick Bridge, or with Pittscottie on Bunn's Hill. But he was forced to hold his mood in curb, and wait until Charles and his advisers should elect to make the general attack.
"Get every move of that, Russ!" called Mr. Pertell. But there was not much more to get, for with the next buck Mr. Bunn's hold was loosened and away he shot, out of the saddle. Fortunately he landed on a pile of hay and was not hurt beyond a shaking up. But Russ got a good picture of the whole scene. The actor picked himself up, and without a word started for the ranch house.
The horse Mr. Bunn had learned to ride was a steady-going beast that had outlived its frisky days, and plodded along just the pace that suited the actor. But there was, among the ranch animals, a "bucking bronco," who looked so much like Mr. Bunn's horse that even some of the cowboys had difficulty in telling them apart.
The operator began taking the necessary pictures, and then came Paul's "cue" to abstract the papers. He had done it successfully from Mr. Bunn's pocket, seemingly without the knowledge of the actor, and Paul was going on with the rest of the "business," when a policeman stepped up and clapping his hand on Paul's shoulder exclaimed: "I want you, young man! I saw you take those papers.
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