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WOMAN who will defy a powerful syndicate with millions behind it must needs have an indomitable will hidden somewhere and be possessed of a most forceful personality. Such a woman is Mrs. Fiske. For reasons of her own she has elected to defy the theatrical syndicate, and to appear only in houses that are either not controlled by or openly opposed to this modern and splendidly organized institution. Therefore Mrs. Fiske, upon the occasion of her appearance in the capital of Ontario for the week beginning February 13th, will be seen at the Toronto Opera House. Mrs. Fiske is again carrying everything before her, and has won a permanent place as one of the most successful, as she is undoubtedly one of the most famous, of American stars. The work of the great actress recently inseveral new plays has given the public a further revelation of a genius that was everywhere recognized in her "Tess of the D'Urbervilles." To a range of parts, everyone of which is distinct and novel, Mrs. Fiske has brought new individualities, until there seems to be no limit to her possibilities for artistic surprise. Canadians have not seen Mrs. Fiske since her pre-eminence as an actress has been won by her matchless portraiture of the strange heroine of Hardy's remarkable novel. Although tragic, that drama seems to possess the quali

ties that will make it one of the future stage classics. Like the book upon which it is founded, the play contains a strong human appeal, and even in a greater degree than the novel it attracts in the theatre, because of the great contrast in character that it sets before the eye in living figures. Some of the foremost critics declared when Mrs. Fiske's impersonation of this rôle in New York brought the metropolis to her feet that this artiste refines Tess

MRS. FISKE.

In Love Finds the Way."

HERBERT FORTIER.

As Le Beau in "As You Like It."

elements of histrionic greatness as new rôles come to her, it is safe to say that Tess will always continue to be a commanding figure in her repertoire, because after her no one else seems to be possible in the part, and also because this character is one of the strongest in modern fiction and her realization of it, in the lighter scenes requiring finesse and delicacy, as well as in those of intense and despairing passion, is so complete, so masterful, so brilliant.

Her acting, more than her

mere personal charm, is what makes Mrs. Fiske popular. Her personalty is a very strong one and it is always in evidence both on the stage and off.

HERBERT FORTIER.

One of the most excellent characterizations is Mr. Fortier's Le Beau, in Miss Julia Arthur's production of "As You Like It," in which this greatest Canadian is achieving the most gratifying success as a winsome and fascinating Rosalind, where her fathomless eyes and potent magnetism, which make her great in tragedy, lend a subtle aid to her gifts as a comédienne.

Mr. Herbert Fortier is well known to Canadian playgoers, and his career

was recorded in detail in Massey's Magazine. before that monthly was incorporated with THE CANADIAN MAGAZINE. His artistic advancement since that time has been steady and notable, due perhaps, in some part at least, to the studious care that marks all his endeavours from the dressing of his wig to the enunciation of his lines. Of his performance of the effeminate fop in Shakespeare's charming woodland comedy, the Dramatic Mirror of New York, said: "Herbert Fortier as Le Beau gave one of the best performances of the evening. Every word and gesture gave evidence of the finished actor behind the masque." W. J. Thorold.

"NICE

ICE state of things," snorted the quartermaster. "A whole battalion ten days from the next supplies and not a pound of meat in the bloomin' camp. No wonder the men grouse. Chase redskins the summer long on hardtack and corned beef, and as if that wasn't bad enough, wind up in the fall on half rations of sticky flour and swamp water. The beggarly hostiles have run off every foot of stock in the country, I expect; if we could only rustle a few cows we'd last till the supply train reaches us, but as it is, there don't seem to be any trail out."

Mr. York pricked up his ears. Mr. York was an enterprising young man of considerable executive ability, in one of his recurrent streaks of hard luck.

"Let me turn in my yoke of steers to you, Beech," he said suddenly to the quartermaster. "I need cash, and I saw one of 'em chasing around here the other day; the other can't be far off. They'll make elegant eating."

trot 'em around. If I can reach your figure I'll buy 'em, quick."

Now, Mr. Richard York had never owned a hoof of horned stock in his life, but he was not a man to slight a business opportunity when it brushed up against him. Therefore, he mounted a troop horse and galloped away into the distance among the poplar bluffs that spotted the prairie.

Knee-deep in grass along the edge of a slough he came upon two well-bellied steers.

"Yee-ip hi! Satan, Pedro or whatever your names are!" he sang. "No, I know you think there's a mistake, but there ain't. You've blew into new hands. Git!"

He wound the heavy stock whip in his hand about his head, and as he brought it suddenly down the popper flew out under the end of the stiffening lash with a bang that sounded like the report of a pistol. The steers dashed off and he raced after them, chirruping to the low rhythm of hoofs beating lightly over the spongy soil. At four o'clock in the afternoon he was

'Yes, I expect it could, if it had to," said the quartermaster. "And we do want the beef. I'll tell you what; I'm willing to break even with you. I'll give you three hundred and fifty."

back at Fort Ste. Anne. The quartermaster came out and looked Pedro and Satan over critically.

"Nice pair of steers," he commented. "Fat, too. Ever been worked?" "Nope. Nothin' to hurt," replied Mr. York. "Only broke last fall. Bust ten acres with 'em."

"They're good beef," remarked the quartermaster. "I guess they'd do. What d' y'u reckon they're worth?"

"I do just hate to part with them steers," said Mr. York with an air of deep seriousness. "You see, when a fellar's raised a pair o' beauts like that -weaned 'em by hand, as you might say he gets kind of stuck on 'em. I did calculate to do a heap o' breakin' with 'em this fall. However, as I said, I need money and I hope I'm good citizen enough, anyhow, not to let a

"And I won't squeal over the difference," responded Mr. York promptly, 'especially where there's a question of duty to my country involved. You can have the steers."

"Well, run 'em into the corral and I'll make out a voucher," said the quartermaster, and he turned away in the direction of the office.

Something seemed just then to strike Mr. York, for he stood for a moment with half-closed eyes, blinking indecisively after the retreating quarter

master.

"O, I say, Beech," he bawled suddenly. "About that voucher; make it in the name of Fraunswah MorawF-r-a-n-c-o-i-s M-o-r-i-n. Frenchman; got an interest in the steers. I'll send the voucher and let him cash it."

The Sun Coulee settlement's inventory of Mr. York's effects, he had recollected, did not include cattle; and Mr. York was not in the insurance business, taking out gratuitous risks upon himself.

A week later, all that remained of Satan and Pedro was the hoofs, horns and tails; and Mr. Richard York one

day called on Francois Morin at his homestead in the Sun Coulee settlement, ninety miles from Fort Ste. Anne, with a proposition of one hundred dollars for the use of his name.

"W'at for you want him, Meestar York?" inquired the Frenchman.

"Why, you own cattle, don't you? A yoke? Well, that's enough. Eh? Killed by the Injuns, were they? 0, that's all right! You see, I don't own a hoof, and I want to sell some. I've