MARY ANDERSON.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1379, 25 October 1886, Page 3

MARY ANDERSON.

In a long article on the tr-e of this cel-bratod young Am -rican a?tress, the ’Frisco Sunday Chrouirle oontai.ie the following; N otwi lutanding that she is beautiful. she is n<t (ho kind f vrom-n that meal men w. u'd fa l l in loro with Her lovahlenes? is mainly prt fessional. being reserved for the stage. In private she seems to he out of her element—a>>d she is—for she ta'ka, thinks and dream > of the stage, tier beauty is nio - e (hat i f a s'atue than of a picture and that rf a picture than of a breathing reality. She is said to very little for men as such, fond as she is of admiration. Individuality she has almost no emoti m and is destitute of coquettisluiess. She can simulate all tho emotions, but she cannot feel them. Act’ng is her life, and when pet a ring, life is at ebb-tide. Site resen, ul es Arab Siddons in that her capach’ t' interest is chiefly confined to her chaac or? ; oirsids of ,hem she is ; nme and iud decent She nevee thinks of love, and is not likely, therefore, to inspire love, which to her mind is merely a capital theme f-r playwright. The average man would no more dreim of being gallant to her than of being gallant to a right angled triangle or Cleopatra’s Needle There is no danger of any gossip or scandal about her. She is the embodiment of pruieuca and conventionality, and, moreover, she is a veiy devout member of the Roman Catholic Church, never neglecting any of her religious dut’es. She is also bigoted in her faith, wh'ch she embraced, I believe, when at’ending a Catholic school in Kentucky. She bae often, 1 am told, talked of entering a cloister, and dtc'ared she would have dona so had she not succeeded on the stage She seems 1 1 have a good deal of the- logical asceticism in her nature. She says she has no inclination to marry—most young women talk in this vein —and I believe she is sincere, If she accccp's a husband, It will bo, I suspect, to gratify social ambition, not to sttisfy the hunger of her b-art—a sentimental phrase which has no meaning to her.