66

BISON BILLIAM.

A Moderately Good Show, But a
Bad Crowd.

A fellow could hang his hat, ulster and umbrella on the atmosphere at the Academy last night. The house was insufferably over-crowded, and the management owed it to the comfort and convenience of their patrons to have closed the doors long before they did. And then the gods! A more unruly set of divinities never shouted and stamped and whistled and yelled and guyed actors from a gallery, or threw pebbles and corn. on the luckless heads in the orchestra. But it was not until dismissal time came that the gallery mob let itself loose. Such pushing, crowding, and jamming, mingled with the cries of children and the frightened ejaculations of women made a scene such as has been rarely witnessed at the Academy. The play, "20 days, or Buffalo Bill's pledge." wasn't bad. It savors less of gore and gunpowder, and has more artistic merit than William's plays usually have. But something ought to be done with the last act. It's too inconsistent to live. "I'm no actor," said Bill once to an interviewer, "I'm a star," and that was the time he hit the bull's eye. He is a star, just as Mrs. Langtry and the Ford boys, and other celebrities who adopt the stage as the most available way of exhibiting themselves to a curious people are stars. It is noticeable, however that Bill is becoming much more at home to the glare of the footlights than he was a few seasons ago, and his nervousness while shooting is wearing off. Last night he made but two misses in 20 fancy shots. W. J. Bailey assumes three characters, and does them all justice. Lole Fuller as "Pepper," a vivacious waif, who can shoot and talk slang, is fairly good and sings well. Speaking of singing reminds THE PRESS critic that the piece ought to be equipped with more taking songs. Italian operas and church music don't catch on with the class of audiences that Buffalo Willaim draws. Jule Keene is a good comedian, but he's so everlastingly homely. W. C. Donaldson as Capt. Merton Montlake, is unquestionably the weakest spot in the cast. The redskins danced a war dance, the trick mule threw up his heels and Frank Thompson played cornet solos between acts. One of the most thrillingly exciting incidents of the evening was the usual go-as-you-please between the orchestra and the gallery when the former struck up "Mary Ann, I'll tell your ma." The gallery, as usual, came in ahead on the ninth inning with laps to spare.