We had another theater, a very little one, please, where light plays,
tableaux, readings and recitations and similar entertainments were
offered by the Dramatic Group during the winter. One member of this
group, Mr. John Glover Drew, was ambitious, and urged the presentation
of something more serious and edifying than merely amusing trifles, and,
accordingly, an excursion was made into the realm of the melodrama.
Glover, as he was called, was intensely Byronic, after the fashion of
the times, and he prepared a succession of thrilling scenes from Byron's
sensational poem, "The Corsair," for presentation by his fellow players.
This melodramatic production was staged with all the pasteboard pomp and
secondhand circumstance the little workshop theater could afford and was
given with all the fire the high-toned author could impart to his
company. The result was disastrous.
Glover was a very genial, jolly young man, a fellow of infinite jest,
and always full of fun, but his play was distinctly dismal.
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