magnetism as marked her for a genius of the first order, while they
made her an irresistible force in art. When she came upon the stage
she filled it with the brilliant vitality of her presence. Every
movement that she made was winningly characteristic. Her least
gesture was eloquence, Her voice, which was soft or silvery, or deep
or mellow, according as emotion affected it, used now and then to
tremble, and partly to break, with tones that were pathetic beyond
description. These were denotements of the fiery soul that smouldered
beneath her grave exterior, and gave iridescence to every form of art
that she embodied. Sometimes her whole being seemed to become
petrified in a silent suspense more thrilling than any action, as if
her imagination were suddenly inthralled by the tumult and awe of its
own vast perceptions."

Her frlend, Emma Stebbins, the sculptor, edited a memorial volume,
"Charlotte Cushman: Her Letters and Memories of Her Life," published
in 1878. By permission of the publishers and owners of the copyright,
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, the pages that follow are
offered.--ED.]



AS A CHILD A MIMIC AND SINGER

On one occasion [wrote Miss Cushman] when Henry Ware, pastor of the
old Boston Meeting House, was taking tea with my mother, he sat at
table talking, with his chin resting in his two hands, and his elbows
on the table. I was suddenly startled by my mother exclaiming,
"Charlotte, take your elbows off the table and your chin out of your
hands; it is not a pretty position for a young lady!" I was sitting