The South suffers particularly in this respect.
The little "river shows," which arrive now and then in river towns, and which are more or less characteristic of the South, have the excuse of real picturesqueness, however bad the entertainment given, for the players live and have their theater on flatboats, which tie up at the wharf.

But the plain fact about the ordinary little southern "road show" is that it does not deserve to make money.
The life of a poor player touring the South must be very wretched, for generally, excepting in large cities, hotels are poor.

Before we had gone far upon our way, my companion and I learned to inquire carefully in advance as to the best hotels, and when we found in any small city one which was not a fire trap, and which was clean, we were surprised, while if the service was fairly good, and the meals were not very bad, we considered it a matter for rejoicing.
We were advised to stop, in Charlottesville, at the New Gleason, and when we alighted at the dingy old brick railroad station--a station quite as unprepossessing as that at New Haven, Connecticut--we began to feel that all was not for the best.

A large gray horse hitched to the hack in which we rode to the Gleason evidently felt the same, for at first he balked, and later tried to run away.
The hotel lobby was a perfect example of its kind.

There were several drummers writing at the little desks, and several more sitting idly in chairs adjacent to brass cuspidors.