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Updated: June 26, 2025
Force's all filled up now mostly with 'Smart Aleck' kids, like Reddy, here, an'" he shot a glance of calculating invitation at his vis-a-vis, Hardy "'old sweats' from the Old Country Imperials." Artfully to start some trivial but decidedly inflammable barrack-room argument was one of Corporal Dave McCullough's pet diversions.
McCullough's delineation of the character of "Edgar," which the actor played in support of Edwin Forrest's "Lear." He wished to convey his approval to the young actor, and asked Mr. Brooks, his companion at the moment, with characteristic simplicity, "Do you suppose he would come to the box if we sent word?" Mr.
His daughter removed the record of John McCullough's ravings, sniffed at it, and put a fox-trot in its place. "He's got to learn to dance," she explained, laying hands upon the guest. "Dancing dancing!" murmured Mr. Montague, as if the very word recalled bitter memories.
Robert was quite a favorite with Aunt Linda, and they often had confidential chats together. "Bobby," she said, when he returned, "I thinks we ort ter hab a prayer-meetin' putty soon." "I am in for that. Where will you have it?" "Lem me see. Las' Sunday we had it in Gibson's woods; Sunday 'fore las', in de old cypress swamp; an' nex' Sunday we'el hab one in McCullough's woods.
They are only four little words; but they carry the crushing weight of eternal and hopeless remorse. It was in this region of delicate, imaginative touch that McCullough's dramatic art was especially puissant.
If ever dramatic art concerns the public welfare it is when such an ideal of manliness and heroism is presented in such an image of nobility. In Lear and in Othello, as in Virginius, the predominant quality of McCullough's acting was a profound and beautiful sincerity.
Our hostess suggested to us to place ourselves on 'McCullough's Addition. In New York or Boston, if I were about to camp on private grounds I should certainly ask permission.
The deficiences of McCullough's Lear were found in the analysis of that part of the performance. He had the heart of Lear, the royalty, the breadth; but not all of either the exalted intellect, the sorrow-laden experience, or the imagination so gorgeous in its disorder, so infinitely pathetic in its misery.
He told her that for ten years he had never sat through a performance till hers; and the praises of the great tragedian went far to console her for the coldness and want of sympathy in the general public. It was by Booth's advice, as well as John McCullough's, that she now began to study such parts as Parthenia, as better suited to her powers than more somber tragedy.
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