We all fell under the fascination of the footlights, and every opportunity to attend the theater was eagerly embraced.
A change in my tastes came when "Gust" Adams,[17] one of the most celebrated tragedians of the day, began to play in Pittsburgh a round of Shakespearean characters.

Thenceforth there was nothing for me but Shakespeare.

I seemed to be able to memorize him almost without effort.

Never before had I realized what magic lay in words.

The rhythm and the melody all seemed to find a resting-place in me, to melt into a solid mass which lay ready to come at call.