1 DIAL ees OGUES NO. 8. BEADLE AND COMPANY, 98 WILLIAM ST. | Am. News Co., 119 & 121 Nassau Ste Me Xe ae ~ r } Hand-books for Young People. BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. Each volume 100 12mo. pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price—ten eents each. 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER—E£mbracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules tor the use of all classes, on all occasions: also a list of Improper Words and Expressions, together with their correct forms. 2—DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE—For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide te True Gentility and Good-Breeding, and a Complete Directory to the Usager and Observances of Society. Including entrance into Society, Conversation, ete. 3—DIME BO00K OF VERSES—Comprising Verses for Valentines, Mottoes, Coup- lets, St. Valentine Verses, Bridal and Marriage Verses, Verses on Births and Infancy, Verses to send with Flowers, Verses of Love and Affection, ete. 4—DIME BOOK OF DREAMS—Theiz Romance and Mystery ; with a complete in- terpreting Dictionary. Compiled from the most accredited sources. 5—DIME FORTUNE-TELLER—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling by cards, byt. lines of the Hands, by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup, how to read your Fortuie in the white of an egg, how to read Character, etc. BS) 6—DIME LADIZS’ LETTER- WRITER—Giving not only the various forms of Letiers of Childhood and School Days, of Love and Friendship, of Society, of Business, etc., but chapters on the art of Correspondence, on Purctuation, ete, 7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court- ship and Marriage. Embracing also a complete Floral Dictionary, Language of the Handkerchief, Languxge of the Fan, Cane, Finger Ring, etc. * 8 —DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION—And Guide to Dancing. Giving rules of Etiquette, hints on Private Parties, toilettes for the Ball-room, etc. Also, a synopsis of Round and Square Dances, Dictionary of French Terme, ete, 9—BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Together with Forfeits and Conundrums, for Social Parties and Home Amusement, Picnie Parties, etc. 10—DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR—A complete hand-book of instruction, givin all that a beginner can require to guide him to the entertaining mysteries’ o this most interesting and fascinating of games. 11—DIME BOOK OF CROQUET —A complete guide to the game, with the latest rnles. diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Parlor Croquet, ete. 12—DIME ROBINSON CRUSOE—In large octavo, double columns, with numerous illustrations, from original designs by Geo. G. White, comprising the text ef one of the best and latest London editions. DIME SCHOOL SERIES—DIALOGUES, No’s 1 to 11. SPEAKERS, No’s 1 to 13. Replete with choice picces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, etc. The Recitations and Dialogues are fresh and good, HOUSEKEEPERS’ HAND-BOOKS. 1—DIME COOK BOOK—Or, the Housewife’s Companion. Embodyinge what is most Economic, most Practical, most Excellent, with illustrations. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 2—DIME RECIPE BOOK oem penion to the Dime Cook Book. A Directory for the Parlor. Nursery, Toilet, Kitchen, Larder, etc. Valuable Patent Recipes, etc. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 3-DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL—Or, how to Keep Honse, to Dye, Cleanse and Renovate; how to Cut, Fit and Make Garments ; how to Cultivate Plants and Flowerst how to care for Birds and Household Pets, etc. By Mrs. Victor. 4—DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN—And Manual for the Sick Room. Family Diseases and their Treatment; Hints on Nursing and Rearing,Children’s Com- plaints, how to prepare Curatives, Rules of Health, ete, x 5—DIME DRESSMAKER-—And Milliner’s Guide. A complete manual of the art of Cutting, Fitting, and making up the Family Wardrobe, etc. 7 the above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere. or will be sent, post- id. to any address, on receipt.of price.10 cents each, BEADLE & COMPANY, blishers, 93 William Strect, New York, Pn THE DIME DIALOGUES NO 3. COLLOQUIES, MINOR DRAMAS, BURLESQ ‘ES, FARCES,. COMMEDIETTAS, ETC., FOR MALE AND FEMALE. EXPRESSLY PREPARED FOR THIS SERIES. NEW YORK: READLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 88 WILLIAM STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1e68, in BEADLE AND COMPANY, {x the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for ths Southern District of New York. INTRODUCTORY. In the preparation of Dimz Dratoauxs No. 8, the editor bas endeavored to present a series especially fitted as inter- tudes to the day’s or evening’s exercises of Schools or Exhi- bitions. There is no Jack of Dialogues of elaborate construc- tion, but there is a lack of little colloquies and amusing divertissements which demand but little study and slight ad- juncts of ‘furniture’ and dress to produce a pleasing impres- sion. We have embraced in this volume seventeen pieces— all by most excellent writers—most of which are exceedingly simple in construction and easy of delivery on the stage of any school. The initial piece only, viz.: “The Fairy School,” may bé called a “Spectacular Dialogue,” requiring special dresses; but, even it is of ready adaptation to almost any parlor or platform. Taken as a whole, the volume will be found to be exceedingly adaptive—a virtue which does not belong to many more pretentious works. BEADLE AND Company. CONTENTS. PAGE. tae Farry SCHoont. For a number of girls, By Mrs, Mark TFeabody ..... WSEAS Sy SEIT Bisse S885 55 9 Tae ENROLLING OFFICER. Fora number of characters, male arid. female — Be Cini - AUgGRGR oc dec ches civ dsb dese sdes cers 15 VBE BasE-DALL ENTHUSIAST.) For three boys. By Louis. Le- BN al iain ore Ree, o, sig Kaba Tadd esrag ow ames 3s 4 21 rte GIRL OF THE PERIOD. For three girls. By thesame..... 23 Tur Fowl REBELLION. For two males and one female. By GT LN vero hvinah «de Gh itomat cd cntds hee tecet © Seaton te <> aan 26 SLOW BUT SUKE. For several males and two females. By Co AA AT. SAR STS Seas Ba 162t55R vides. aba acees; Se 31 OAUDLE’S VELOCIPEDE. For one mule and one female, Al- Seferk frags ae OMe 6s oe rn di dak diab 0 ae Vompeents a8 THE Figcres, lor several small children, By K. A. P........ 3 TSE TRIAL OF PETER SLOPER. For several male charac ‘ers. By Lucy A, Osband,...... ata id Cal ane ate eae Seo wecese ae GETTING A PHOTOGRAPH. For two males and two females. Adapted irom “ American Miscellany”’........ Siina Fd. 2 i THE SOCIETY FOR GENERAL IMPROVEMENT. For a number of girls. By O,J. Victor ..... Be cite: peed hte Otitis ans wns Fs) 4 NOBLEMAN UX DISGUISE, Fora number of characters, sala and female By Clarg Avigustas 21. 2205 essed sdsdctcceccsceses & GREAT EXPECTATIONS, For two boys. Adapted from “The Sehoolmiata’ ce. PRUE Ls Salk Ss Radd in dee sen tees 7 PLAYING SCHOOL, For five females and four males, Adapted from same...... PREG soo | cbse Aiki ns Rian tp roe 73 (CLOTHES FOR THE HEATHEN. For one male and one female Satan We MOTE Suara Sent 3 odes Vere teymetaitabioeng et eevee solids 33 A Harb Case, For several males. By same... 2... .s...eeee. ee 89 Gnests. For ten females and one male. By K. A. P..... .... Bf DIALOGUES, No. THE DIME THE FAIRY SCHOOL. FOR A NUMBER OF GIRLS. 8. tA dozen children, with wings on their shoulders, sitting about on low seats, variously occupied with knitting, sewing, books, ete. Enter two children (mortals), minus the wings. start in surprise, themselves unseen.) Mary. Kate. Mary. Kai. Mary. Kate. Many, Kate Why, Kate, what’s this? They Oh, hush ! speak low ; These must he fairies. Shall we go? Not yet; P'm curious to tind out What all these creatures are about ; They’re sitting here as still as mice, Plotting some mischievous device. l envy fairies. Night and day Nothing to do but romp and play. Ah, so do I. They’re blest indeed, Who do not have to spell or read, Nor, through long summer days, to hammer At etymology and grammar, Just think, these happy little elves Can walk or fly to suit themselves, Can live on roses, swing on trees, And indolently take their ease. When one refleets on lessons, Mary, Who would not choose to be a fairy. Here comes another. (Anter Fairy Scnoo.Mistress.) Hear that bell! Is it some fairy’s funeral knell ? TI would we had not ventured here, THE DIME DIALOGUES. She looks so solemn and severe Let’s run away. (Farry SCHOOLMISTRESS sees and approaches them, saying -) Farry Scnootmistress. My little dears, Tm half inclined to box your ears For peeping at our Fairy’ School— Visits are quite against the rule; But since you're here, walk in, I pray. Our exercises for the day Will soon begin. Take a toad-stool (offering seats), And don’t forget that you're in school. No whispering, tittering, meaning glances— To cough, to sneeze, are grave offenses, (Seats them and calls up @ ciass.) First class in knitting, take your place. Titania, have you wrought the lace For Oberon’s mantle, as 1 ordered ?— White as the moonshine, and deep-bordered With pearls the size of mustard seed ? Show me your work, (TrrantA shows piece ef’ lace.) Fine work, indeed! Your thread is coarse, your mesh is wide, These pearls like water slip and slide. Trranta. Ah, Lady Mab, before the dawn, I gathered, the thread, with the dew all on; Down in the meadow, before the sun, The silver spool] I twisted and spun To make it smooth, and strong, and white As the silver rays of the pure moonlight ; Zul twas rough and brittle, for all. my care And it’s my opinion, I do declare, That to the spiders belongs the sin— They do not spin as they used to spin! And oh, what a task it was, T wot, To tie each pearl with a double knot! Parmy Scuooumistress. There is no excuse for tasks done: To-morrow, rise before the sun, And choose’ brit the webs, so fine-and white, THE FAIRY SCHOOL i Spun) over the lilies’ cups at night; These twist in a thread kept damp with dew— To-day, these pearls you must all undo; And when again the mantle is brought, Should I still find it is badly wrought, You forfeit your honey for a week. Now, Crystal, where are the stockings? Speak OrystaL. Ah, Ludy Mab, I do not know; They were finished, down to the very toe. I dyed them pink: in a rose-leaf dye, And hung them out on a thorn to dry. Some plundering fay has»stolen them thence, Or the wind has blown them over the fence. Parry ScHOOLMISTRESS, Orystal, your name is Careless ness ! Untidy, thoughtless, to excess! Your punishment for this, to-day, Is to work while others play. Magpie, is the gold fringe done, For the cover to the throne ? Maer. Three yards only have I done. Farry ScHooLMIstREss. Three yards-only, idle one? Maepre. I was ill, and could not knit; My head whirled to look at it. Farry Scnoonmisrress:, Tush! your tongue it is that whirls— You're the chatterbox of girls. This is the fine upon you laid; To speak not till the fringe is made. (She waves cluss in knitting to seats. Many whispers to Kate.) Mary. I tremble in my shoes. Those little elves Are not so lightly governed as ourselves. ‘Farry ScroouMIstReEss nods.to cliss in spelling, and continues : Famy Scnoonmisrress. Yesterday I biushed for shame, Thai none could spell our great king’s name. J trust the lesson all now know: Spell, Ypsijipseysweltzerbraugh Frmst Scuotar. I, p— Farry Scnootmistress. Stupid! pass it along. Seconp Scnonan Y, p, 8, 1, g— TUE DIME DIALOGUES, Famy ScrouLMistress, All wrong! Tarp Scnouar. Y, p, si, j, y— Fairy SCHOOLMISTRESS. Dunce! Spell it, you. Fovrru Scuouar. I spelled it once All correct.» Yes, cet me see i— ¥Epesiaepizips} cC— Fatyy Scnooumistress. Oh, dear, incredible None our good king’s name can spell. Soft the silver syllables fhow— Ypsijipseysweltzerbraugli— Yet these stupid fairies miss it. Now, upon the. king’s next visit, Not one of you shall go to court; You shall lose the feast and sport. Seats! the bell Who made that: humming ? Here's the dancing-master. coming. Class in daneing, take the floor— (A fine for sneezing, Miss Kandore.) Master. Comment vous portez-vous, mademoiselles ? We'll try ze dance of ze Flower-Bell... (They dante.) You, Crystal, turn your toes out more ; You, mademoiselle, you shake ze floor. Once, fairies had more ease and grace; Zey danced not in so dull a piace. (They dunce the figure chosen, and he chatters and directs.) When / was taught there was some skill: Parblea! methirks we danced not ill. On stems of flowers, on limbs of trees, On spider-web ropes—anid bent not these; So light,so sure— > You whirl, fair form (to scholar), Like ancumbrella im a stera., Behold ze bee, which circles round Ze honeyed flower, nor touches ground | So should you tioat, with lightest ease, Like clouds upon ze evening breeze. Next week we have ze fairies’ feast, W'en you must dance before ze queen ; Credit your master zen, at leust, THE FAIRY SCHOOL, However careless you have been. So-so! So-so! JT hope yowll pass To dance a hornpipe on ze grass, Tnless my pupils have more ar, Mare grace, deportment. in despair My grand profession [Pll forego, And turn one cook, like Monsieur Blot. (Ti rns to Farry ScuoonMistress as he concludes.) Fay scuoonmisrress. Ah, monsicur! forregret we Lave cause, Our race is no more what it was; The world degenerates, year by year, A hundred years ago, [ hear, ’Twas vastly better, Farry DANCING-MASTER. Yes, my dear: Fasry Those cays of stately etiqnette, When fairies danced the aminvet, Have fled from grove and bower away-— All fairies, then, were French, they say. (Retires, with an elaborate flourtsh.) (Aside to Mary.) The poor old thing is wretched, Moll, *The world is hollow, and his doll Is stuffed with sawdust. Fairies, then, Have toil and trouble, even as men! ScuooLMistREss. Class in needle-work. (Class rises, brings patch-work.) Ilow have you sped Vith the patch-work quilt for our good queen’s bed ? I told you the pattern how to dispose— A leaf of lily, a leaf of rose, Star-shaped, and fitted in between Violct satin and cak leaves green. (Takes a ptece From the hand of one of the pupils.) Do you call that overstitch, Oriole ? Ogtore. The thorn that I sewed with made a hole In the tender silk, and the thread, so Coarse, Or timothy-grass, made the mater. worse, If I had a needle-fine and strong, And a twisted thread that was soft and long, THK DIME DIALOGUES, As the children do in a mortals’ school, (A silk thread wound on a cunning spool), T could make my siitches even and fine ; But a fairy child must e’en repine At her needie of thorn and thread of grass. Farry Scuooumistress. Such sewing as this can never pass | Don’t jay the blame on needle and. thread, But where it belongs—on your heed_ess head. Your mother, and mother’s mother’s mother, Have; sewed well with a thorn—norother. (Examines all. the work.) All badly—wretchedly—wrongly done ; There’s no more neatness under the sun. Olds Ragged-Robin this quilt shall take, While you another shall cut and make. Now, all, for an hour, can have recess, But mind, no frolicking to excess ! None must sit on the grape-vine swings, Nor on thorn-apples tear their wings, Nor pull the lilies out of the lake, Nor scream like blackbirds. You may take A modest, orderly promenade— Too much play for scholars is bad; And as down the meadow-walk you pass, You may gather your inch of pepper-grass. File out—two-and-two—don’t run ! And. be promptly back at one. (Follows them -as they march off the stage, leaving mortals saying :) This truth, at last, we are discerning : ‘There is no royal road to learning? Even fairies can not bid defiance To work, in conquering art and science. Knowledge, alas, don’t take, like measles, And. we had better endure these ills, Than fly to others that we know not— So says a wise man and a poet. We'll take our thorns as well as flowers, And sigh no more for fairy bowers. (Zeer vcr THE ENROLLING ‘OFFICER 15 THE ENROLLING OFFICER. Characters : Mrs. GRIDLEY, @ widow with five sons and a daughter. Miss Sykes, @ maiden lady visitor. Mrs Wiruers Mr. Samira. Scenz.—A room in Mrs. Gripiry’s house. The three ladies seated together, knitting. Mrs. Grmuey. (Pausing to look out of the window.) Who on airth is that’ere coming down the road? Do look out, Miss Sykes, and you, too, Mrs. Withers, and see if you know. A stranger in these parts, I reckon, by the way he’s kinder scru- tinizing things. (They all crowd round the window, on tiptoe, to see over each other's shoulders.) Miss Sykes. Hain't it Seth Dobson, the new lawyer over to the Corner. Looks like his checked pantaloons and neck-tie. But ’tain’t his coat; he’s got them white buttons that was on his grandfather’s old surtout, onto his new black coat, and he puts on as many airs as the emperor! you can’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. Mrs. Wirners. Law! that ain’t Seth Dobson, no more’n ive my gran’mother. Seth’s got a hitch in ‘his gait, and this man walks as straight as if he was on trucks. Rather absent- minded, though, 1 guess, for he’s paddled rite through the mid- Ale of that mud-puddle! Reckon he’s no his boots, he’s wiping something off. Mrs. Gripiey. Dearsakes!T do believe he’s coming in here; and there’s that ’ere swill-rail setting rite on the door-step, Vil warrant; Jin fed the hogs Jast, and he’s the awfullest critter to leave everything round where it hadn’t ort to be, that ever I see’d. Ile mortifies me to death! Miss Sykes, you'd ort to be thankful that you ain’t got five grown-up boys round for a bother. Miss Sykes. (Looking shocked.) Thankful, Mrs. ae it — would kill me to think of such a thing. tion knocking at the door. Mrs. GRIDLEY smooths her cap strings and re-ties her apron.) 16 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mrs. Grrptty. [shouldn't wonder a mite if that feller was somebody coming to see my Peggy Jane. She's had a master tight of callers sense she got home from boarding-schoo}. (Opens the door, and discloses a young man with a@ roll of pa per under his arm.) + Younec Man. (Bowing.) Good-afternoon, ma’am. Mrs. Gripiey. Good-afternoon; fine weather for the sea ton. Walk in. Youne Man. Thank you—vwith pleasure. Mrs. Gripiey. Set down, do; what may I call your name ? Youne Man. Smith, ma’am; John, Smith. Mrs. Grip.ey... Mr. Smith, ladies, (All bow.) Mr. Smitn. I called, madam, on important business ; bus!- ness. for this bleeding and distracted country. I have the honor to be a United States officer, ma’am. Mrs. Gripuey.. Luddy! I hain’t talked no treason—I don’t want to go to Fort Lafayette; I hain’t experded no habita corpus writs, nor nothing ; you must sartin be mistook in. the person. Mr. Surrn.. Be calm, madam, J intend you no harm; I am enrolling the militia, and called to see how many men you have around. you. Mus. Gripuey. (With great indignation.) Men, sir !do you mean. to insult me? You shouldn't think because I'm a poor lone widder woman, that [Il stand insults of that ’ere kind! Men around me, indeed! Mr. Suir. My dear madam, you misapprehend me, en- tirely. I meant to inquire the names of your husband and sons, and their ages. Mrs. Grm.ey.. Oh, ho! that alters the case. Wal, Jere mixh is dead; been in his grave full seven year—poor dear, Had the plural fever,and digestion of the lungs. Couldn't get his breath without a mustard-poultice on his stummieck, aud one day when I took it off to fix it up stronger, he departed and left me alone in this vale of tears and sorrer. Mnre. Wituers. Lawk! whata critter Jeremiuh was for in- yuns, Mae. GRIDLEY. Awful! why, sometimes I've fixed 8 bas wag ster Ca ar THE ENROLLING OFFICER. 13 ket full of ’em, more or less, for him, and still he didn’t seem to he satisfied. Used to make his breath smelf awtully, Mk. Saira. Was Jeremiah your husband? Mrs. Gribeey, Why, yes; you might have knowed thit, if- you'd only looked onto lis tombstrn as vou come along. ‘It's the grate white one, with a broken-winged angel on it, down there in the graveyard. That stun cost forty dollars. Mr. Suira. Yes’m. What are your sons’ names, and their ages 2? (Preparing to write.) Mrs. Gripvey. Wal, there’s Sam. Tfe’s the oldest. “A nice boy, Sam is, duly he’s a little too fond-of skylarking round with the gais! He's spent more money a-buying of "em gint- cracks than you could shake a stick at ! Mn. Suiri. What are the names of the others? Mrs. Griptey. Sam, and Jim, and ‘Azariah, and Hezckiah, and Jerryboam, and Peggy Jane, and George Napoleon | Mr. Surra. Be kind enough to give me the exact age of your son, Samuel, Mrs. Gripury. ~ Oh, sartinly! Te’me see! Sam was born the very next year after Wiggins’ barn was burnt; ‘not more’n a month or two afore Deacon Jones’ yeller calf died of the pheumony, : Mr. Smira. Well, what year was that ? Mus. Griptey. Law me! T've forgot! Sense I had the information on the brain last summer, I'm as forgetful as a baby! T tell our folks, sometimes, I should disremember my own nate, if it warn't so much like gridiron !> That was con- siderable of a spell ago that Twas born! Tt may be more, wind it riay be less! Miss Sykes, you’ve got a better memory than [ have, can’t you tell ? Miss Sykes. (With the greatest indignation” Why, Mra Gridley! The time you spexk of was years before] cad th “this mortal spear. Mrs. Gripiey, You was a growed-up gal when Sam wis & baby and you staid'a week or two with me to help me tock the cradle {Don't you remember how yor threatened to burn Sam alive, if he didn’t stop yelling so°o' nights 2 ‘That Wes about the time that your brother, Epbartin, tnafrida his second wife. Mra, Witners T guess T can tell exacey when it wr, 18 THE DIME DIALOGUES. It was nearly a month afore I bought my pongee gound, ar* that was the same summer that Jim Stebbins fell off from t’ haymow and scrunched that white turkey of theirs to death, that laid twenty-two eggs at a litter. Mr. Ssutu. (A little impatiently.) Haven't you gut a family record ? Mrs. Gripizy. Law, yes, to be sure. But it’s writ iz Greek, or some other furrin languidge, and I can’t make hea nor tail to it. There ’tis, in the Bible. Mr. Smitg. (Opens the boot, and reads aloud.) Samuel Ichabod, born Aug. 5th, 1822; James Newbold Experience, Sept. 10th, 1826; Azariah Jackson, Oct. 9th, 1829; Hezekiah Salathiel, Jan. 3d, 1831 ; Jerryboam Jehosaphat, Dec. 19th, 1833 ; Peggy Jane, March 4th, 1837; Geo. Napoleon, April 21st, 1840. You have six sons, madam, and all subject to military duty, Mrs. GrmieEy. Lord bless you, sir, I hain’t got but five sons, to save your life! Mr. Smitn. But there are certainly six names recorded here. Mrs. Griviey. . Like enuff. But Jerryboam’s been dead nigh onto fifteen year—died with the measles and diary. Aw- ful sick boy, he was, Mr. Smith. Miss Sykes. (Aside.) No wonder, with such a name. Mr. Smitu. Well, then, you have five sons who are liable to the draft, it appears. The country needs the services of all her men, now ; and if it becomes necessary to resort to a draft, there must be a full enrollment. of the names of all able-bodied individuals of the masculine gender. We want them for the army. Mrs. Grivuzy. (£zcitedly.) Lord! sir, why my boys oouldn’t go to the war, if it was to save the city. Samuel has got the patent ringbone, and the brown creeters, and the rebellious colic, and the cholery infancide ! Mr. Smiru. Indeed! well, there are still four more. Mrs. Gripiey. _ Oh, law, yes, but they’re in a dreadful way, all of ’em. There’s Jim, now, looks tolerable rugged, but his lungs is clean intirely gone. -The doctor sez he’s got the in- largement of the heart, and his diagram is dead as a herring, don’t help him a mite about breathing. ¥ Miss Syere. (In enident consternation.» Why, Mrs. Gridley THE ENROLLING OFFICER. 19 Vrs Wiraers. Why, how you talk! Mrs. Gripiey. Then there’s Azariah. We're a dreadful af \icted family, Mr. Smith, dreadful. Azariah is as well as ceuld be expected, but he’s lost all his frunt teeth, and both of his grate toe-nails with these ’ere run-rounds. Mr. Smrrn. (Hopefully.) Well, there are still two more. Mrs. Griptey. (Applying her handkerchief to her eyes.) Yes; aias! yes. Poor Hezekiah is down with the rhumatiz ; hain’t been able to feed himself for a week. I have to nigh about wag his jaws for him. Law, Miss Sykes, you needn't set there with your mouth open, looking at me. ’Spose I don’t know what’s what? Mr. Smitn. (Despairingly.) Well, at least, there is George Napoleon. © Mrs. Grotey. (Sobbing hysterically.) Ah, dear, this is the worst of all. My youngest son is a crazytic! he’s been on- sene ever sense Jerusy Peablus give him the mitten; crazy as a bed-bug. : Mr. Smrta. (Arising to depart. Glances from the window.) An, ha, this looks a little suspicious. “May I be permitted to ipquire who is that climbing that tree? Mrs. GRIDLEY. Oh, yes, that is my poor George. He is often took so. Them is his sane intervals. Poor dear! Mr. Smirn. Yes, but there are three other young gentle- men going to do the same thing. If those are your sons, they are well enough for soldiers. You have been telling me a string of falseh oods, old woman. Mus. GREY. (With arms akimbo.) Old woman, did you say ? old woman? Mx. Smita. It’s my impression I did, and I meant it, tuo. You’ve been deceiving me. Mrs. Griptey. You shall rue this day! Mr. Smirn. The less I hear from you the better. I'l have ali five of your sons drafted, as sure as my name’s— Mrs. Griptey. (Coming at him with uplifted broomstick.) You will, will you? Tl Parn you how to call a decent widder woman old/ (Strikes him.) Tll show you the. dif- ference between coughing and sneezing. (Pointing to the door.) I give you jest one wag of a dog’s narrative, to quit these primises THE DIME DIALOGUES . Mr, Smrru leaves in ahurry.) Mrs. Grintey. (T7riumphenily.) Uain’t 1 done him brown ? Miss Sykes. That’s so. Mrs. Wiruers. Let’s take a pinch of snuff, and go and see the minister. Mrs. GRmLEY. That we will. I feel just like it. But, before we go just let me git at them boys, a minit, They've got me in a pretty scrape to be sure. What were they up. in that apple tree for, anyhow? Why wasn’t they three miles off when that ugly Smith come around? Oh, Vil scorch him if he doves onroll my boys!) What would 1 do without. them boys? j Mrs Wirners. Why, you said they were dreadfully af: flicted. Perhaps going off to the army would cure,’em ? Miss Sykes. Perhaps it would make ’em_= great... Just think of Hezekiah comin? back a corporal or a general et “some such, with a big epaulette on his shoulder. Mrs. Griptey. Oh, Lordy, even my friends are ag'in’ me. Did I ever! What, my Hezekiah—my Azariah, my George Napoleon, my James. Newbold Experience. geing otf 10. the wars to be cut by a cannon-ball and bruised by a sword? My boys to eat old horses and march all. day in brogan shoes? Oh, Tam astonished that you. women can think such cruel things ! Miss Sykes. I am sure I wish— Mrs. Gripiey. You wish my boys, was dead, I dare say. Mrs. Wirners. I am sure IL wish— Mrs. GripLey. You wish they was corporals and ginerals and all that. . I know-you do, you ugly wicked thing -you. You couldn’t wish a wuss thing without. it was. to send ’em to Congress— Miss Sykes. And it might be the means ¢? sending them there. Mrs. Griptey. What! (Seizes the broomstick again and Miss Sykes and Mrs, Witners escupe in a hurry.) . The nusty wicked things. Jy boys go to Congress _ Never, never / J'll sce ’em insane ftirst—that 1 will, _ (Rushes out.) J ie and girl: thir led mn flo’ No git Det in! on Ww THE BASE-BALL EN TIMUSIAST, THE BASE-BALL ENTHUSIAST. FOR THREE BOYS. (Enter Joun, with bat and ball in hand.) Jour. Now for a gume of base-hall-—a_glorions game! Il gives us strong muscles, good lungs, energetic dispositions, and all the while we are having the greatest fun, Oh, if the girls only could play base-ball with us, wouldn't it: be the thing! T wouldn't be a girl for any money, They are so ed down that they can’t. freiie in any sensible way, They must play demure plays—d-e-m- re plays—and be wall- flowers, and simper a, little, and play the march from La Norma when pressed hard, Bah! I guess I erouldn't be a girl, and if Nature had made me one, ?d—Td—Td play base- Odl anyhow. Hurrah for the bat and ball!) Murrah for the innings and the score! Tiurrah for the champions, for T'm one of them! We're to play the Athletics to-day, and are wre to— f Enter James, awith clothes torn and dirty, hat knocked in, a bandage over the eye. his vight arm in a-sling, and spots of blood on his nose. Ile also limps as he walks.) Jomn. Why, Jimmy, boy, what’s the matter? You look _ as if you had been in a prize fight! Explain. What's been the row ? James, The row?) Why, nothing! We've had the most glorions game of base-ball, and beaten the Athletics, Joun. Beaten the Athleties! Glorions! Hurrah! (7%roia uphat.) But, that den’t explain your battered head and broken leg. James. Don’t ii! That's just what % does. You see, we Were bouad to win— * Jomn. Tlurrah ! Janes. And T grt so close to the striker that T got a lick on the head that sent me sprawling. Vm afraid it has cracked my skull; bat, T enught the ball, anyhow. dounx, Turrah! James. So they picked me up and aid me ont fora while, when I got my, sens¢s ere and then took the field,” Bim / The very first bitvei ck me dd my eye, and I ghess has put 2 THE DIMK DIALOGUES, it out; but, it stopped the ball, and I made «nother splendid catch, and, as I went over, how the boys did shout! Joun. Hurrah! James. I soon got on my feet again, and was going off the field, when—what a stroke their best man gave! The ball went whizzing like a bomb up in the air, T saw it, and was bound to have it. I ran, head up, and teok it on the fly; but, as I caught it, I stumbled over a stone, fell down, and I guess I have broken my arm. Joun. But, did you hold the ball? James, Of course I did, and it counted. Joun. Hurrah ! James. Yes, that catch gave us the innings, and though I couldn’t go to the bat, I waited till the game was won—16.to 11. But now I must go home for repairs. I fear I am seri- ously hurt; but, I don’t care; we won the game. (Limps of) Jonn. Glorious game! I'd consent to have my head broken to beat the Athletics, We must beat. We can’t fail Haven't we practiced three hours every day except Sunday for the last six weeks? That we have, and now— (Enter Tuomas, with fishing-rods on shoulder.) Joun. . Halloa, Tommy, where are you going? Tom. Why, fishing, of course. Do you suppose I would let this fine day go for nothing, when good fishing is to be had ? Joun. Oh, bother your fish! Why don’t you play base- ball, like the rest of the boys, and not go moping off every day into the woods, like a love-sick woman ? Tom. Play base-ball, indeed! Did you see Jimmy? He’s a standing advertisement, now, of a good base-ball player. If his eye isn’t blind forever, then ’'m not, good at guessing. Joun. Well, suppose it is! Didn't he beat the Ath- letics ? Tom. And that is glory enough, is it, to pay for the loss of an eye? Jonn. Of course it is! If he’s lost his eye in so good s cause, another will grow. in its place, I’m sure. Tom. And his arm ig thought to be broken. > . @« ~~ weet ad ail THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 23 Jonx. Well, it can be mended again, can’t it, stupid ? Tom. And his skull is cracked. Jomn. Let her crack. A little wax will close her up again. Tom. And his knee is badly sprained. Jonx. Give it a big twist the other way and hurrah, for the hoy’s beat the Athletics, I tell you. Tom. (Whistling a note of surprise.) If T ever saw a fool I see one before me now! As if any number of beats would repay Jimmy for his injuries. Base-ball, indeed! (Contempt- wously.) Very base ball, and, in my opinion, only fools play a. (Bxit.) Joun. (Hapressing extreme surprise.) Tid you ever! Tom’s crazy. Don’t like base-ball? Now, see the effect of associating too much with the girls. He plays with his sis- ters, and they all go tramping over the fields togetWer, hunting flowers, and fishing, and horse-back riding, and rowing on tlre pond, and swinging in the old grapevine. Bah! Tom’s a spooney, that’s what he is. He'll never be a man, like Jimmy and I—nio, never. Tm sorry for Tom. (Heit) THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD, FOR THREE GIRIS. (Enter ADELK, dressed in “ tip-top” style.) Aprie. And now for a right. good time. | Henrico js ta be there, and that gay fellow, Dr. Andreas, ard Mr, Preston, the stranger. Ah, but I'll have a good time, flirting with them all. Why don’t Lizzie come? | She is.always sc neat and prim that it never takes her long to dress. (Enter Rosa, a maid.) Apertz. Where is Miss Lizzie? Rosa. In her room. Apere. Is she not ready for the picnic ? Rosa. She is not going. Aver. This is one of her whinis. T suppose. Ask het 24 THR DIMM DiALOGUES, down ; tell her Tam ready. (Hrit Rosr.) Lizzie isco pro | voking at times, She is old-maicish ; she is too mueb given ” to “the proprieties.” as. she calls them. and. Tequitetire of them. This world was made for enjoyment, if it was made for any thing. (Enter VA7713.) Apri What, Lizzie, not dressed yet for, the pienic? “y721e. 7 shall not eo. ~ ADELE. And why? Lizzik. bdo net dike the eempany. Aprus.. Pray who goes that you do not like ? Lizzig. A promiscuous crowd in gencral, and one or twa gentlemen in particular, whose society I would shun, ADELE. Who are they ? Lizzm. Dr. Andreas, and the stranger, called Mr. Preston. Ave.e, © Both splendid fellows. | What are your objections to them? Lizate.. Both are comparative strangers here, Adeles—3¥i Preston entirely so, T believe. Dr. Andreas is dissipated, we know, and one or two, gentlemen say he is a rowé, ADELE. Oh, pshaw! These gentlemen are jealous of the doctor. He is so gay and brilliant that he shames most of them. TI don’t know-that- he is-dissipsted: Lizzre. We certainly was “in liqnor.’ as the men say, at the ball the other night. You had a drunken escort heme, Ape.e. Now, Lizzie, why be sneha prude?) The doctor like all guy fellows, is given to wine-drinking only as a gen- Heman, and if he drinks too much on certain occasions, why that is nothing. Lyrae. “It is enongh to make me shun him. Tis levity, on such certain occasions, is something, too, which I fear, for it betokens a seeret love for the impure. : Avenn. What stuff! If you and T are not strong enough to keep the doctor-in order, then we had better retire from sovicty, for society, yon know, is composed of just such men. Lizzim. Fast society, you should. express-it. No good circle cares to encourage such men as Dr. Andreas, and_as for Mr. Preston, if Lam not greatly mistaken he isnot well born and bred. There is an air of vulgarity about him which is suspicions. Aw oan — pro / given re of Made twa fon, ons THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD. 25 Aveie. Dear, dear! You are ever so suspicious, Lizzie. Now, Mr. Preston drives a fine span of bays; he dresses ele- gantly; he and Dr. Andreas are the life of every evening, - don't know his geneology, nor just how many dollars he has ; but, as he is good company, I sual] necept his attentioas, If you will not go with me, I must go alone, taking Rota along to be of service. (Znter Rosa, in some haste) ADELE. What is it, Rosa? | Auybody. called ? Rosa. Oh, dear! There is a crowd of men on tue street, and the officers are searching sin the garden.) Johu gays it’s for a gambler named. Preston, who-has been. cuttiyg a’ big swell around here for the last week, . He drugged an.l robbed aman at play last night, and the man shot Limself 1),is morn- ing, leaving a note on his table saying that Prestun-wns a professional burglar, and so the officers are afier him: He is supposed to be secreicd in our grounds. Oh, deay, thar he Should be around here at all. (ADELE looks fright.ned, and betrays nervouxness.) Lizziz. Adele, what is this? TIas Preston been on the grounds at any time; to-your knowledge ? AvetE. I invited him and Dr. Andreas here last even- ing, afier the promenade, and we spent a half-hour in the ar- bor, where John brought us refreshments, ° Lizzie. - Alas! this comes of your fieedom with men whose characters you fail to read. You have, my dear girl, to a cer- tain extent, compromised yourself by your preterence. tor these men, and I prey it may teach you a lesson, ADELE. But, Dr. Andreas surely is not inculpated ? Rosa. - John says Dr. Andreas furnished the “drag that Btupefied the poor man, and the people are after him; but, he has fled, with Preston’s bay. horses. Lizz. An accomplished pair of scoundrels—that was all. I knew enongh.of human nature to read viciousness in their talk and conc.ot; but you, Adele— ADELE. I—fool that I am—took the outward guise of the men instead of reading their-hearts, and Lam) disgraced. Lizziz. Not disgraced, in any serious sense, but certainly humiliated. Let this be a warning, my dear girl, w make you more select in y wr companionship, 26 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Apetr. (Dashes her fancy hat down on the stage ; flings away her fan and scarf.) Tl never more be the prey of every adventurer. Too long I have been a butterfly ; now I'll at least use my womanly good sense, and accept no man’s com pany whe is not known to me thoroughly. Rosa. Will you yo to the picnic? ApeLtg. Picnic? No/ [ll go te my room and cry, so I will. (Ezit.) Rosa. (Picking up the hat, ete.) And it’s all as Jolin said it would be. Lizzie. What did he say? Rosa. That good clothes and fast horses more frequently covered up a bad man than tle other thing. I think Joln is right most. I like John. (Exit.) Lizzie. John at least is an honest man. I have no tears to shed for what has happened but tears of joy, if it has taught dear Adele the priceless lesson of testing all things by the standard of true merit. {Ezit.) THE FOWL REBELLION. FOR TWO FEMALES AND ONE MALE. [This seemingly impossible-to-be-rendered colloquy can be preduced with capital effect by having a scree well forward on the stage. Behind this scrcen the whole ¢a/k will be delivered. A bell should be tingled to indicate tre commencement of the same, and insure silence in the audi- ence. Any noises insiae the inclosure whicb would indicate that it was a Aennery, are in order.) Caick. Oh, mother hen, all other chicks Are out ut play at sevens and six, But here, imprisoned in this pen You keep me, as if I, too, were a hen, Or some young fool who from its home Must never be allowed to ronm— To see the fields so green and gay, Or by the meadow-brook to stray ; I'm sure I’m big enough to go, Oh, say I may dear mother, do. Tings every T'll at com vy; so faid ntly in is Pars has -d id Hen. Crick. Cnicx. THE FOWL REBELLION. What ails you now, my silly child? Where did you get such fancies wild? Who said the grass was fresh and green t Who’s been where I have never been ? stay at home day afler day, nd never from my nestlings stray ; . try to keep them snug and warm, And guard them well from every harm. Well, mother, you are getting old, And papa has‘so often told Tbat it was wrong for hens to think Of aught beyond their meat and drink, That, really, you’ve so foolish grown, You scarcely know your soul’s your own! You sit and mope from morn till night, And dare not say that white is white. My child, your papa knows ’tis best For me to sit at home and rest— At least to rest what time I get After I’ve fed you all, my pet; *Tis true, I had to pick and scratch For of all chickens you’re the match To gobble up the bits I find, But if I’ve none, you do not mind. Well, where does papa stay all day? Is he at work, or does he play? You know we never see him here— It seems to me it’s rather queer That he should gad about so free, And none of us allowed to see Outside the yard ; I know, for one, That with another rising sun— Hush, hush, my chiid! your father’s. come, And he must find a pleasant. home, Or he will leave his house for good, And all his pretty, beipiess brood ; THE DIME DIALOGUES Run quick and open wide the gate—~ You know he never likes to wait ; And then ran back to get his chair, And for his slippers bave a care. Caicx. Mother, for your poor sake Tih go HEN, Anddo. the thing you told: me to; But smooth his faults as best you cag, He is a hard, unfeeling man ; lle’s just the sort 1 calla shirk ; Pray tell me, did he ever work ? T never saw him scratch a stroke, To save your back from being broke, Your father is a learned man, And he is studying out a plan For sitting hens to pay their way, Nor idle sit the live-llong day ; I’m sure T had but lithe rest, But yet your father knows what's best> He thinks it better for my health, And also for my source of wealth, That while [ am obliged to sit, I might employ my claws to knit Some warm socks for his cloven feet; He says it would be very sweet—- (Enter Rooster, who utters a loud erow.) Roorter. I'm Jupiter Tonares! _ Weyday—heyday f Old hen, what have you been at, I say, That when I seek my coop at noon There is no sign-of dish or spoon ? . Madame, what does it mean, I say ? Are we to fust as well as pray ? (Weekly. Sit down, papa, and rest a bit, VW hurry round and dinner get ; The fact is, Tm not very well, My head is ringing like a bell; I think my nest is rather damp, Pm quite afraid Pll have the cramp. THE FOWL REBELLION, Rooster. Oh, shut your head and hurry round; Hen. (Sings.) You have heen shirking, [ll be bound ; You didn’t look for me so soon ? Well, always have. my, meals at noon, Then if I come there'll be no fuss— It’s very low te swear and cuss ; (L really wish you'd manage so Td never have such work to do 3) And if I don’t come, you can wait, No matter if it should be late; Your time is mine, and mine’s my own— Don’t stand there, pecking at that bone, But haste and make the dinner on ; J have a call to make at one, For Mrs. Topknot is in town, Look here, madame, don’t dare to frown; T told her we would walk at two— Look here, old lady, that will do! Just take your claws down from your eyes! I hate a wife who always cries If her lord seeks another hen; What can we do, we lonely men— For food, and heart, and soul, and. brain, If we are tied to one poor hen, Whose chief ambition is her house, And lacks the courage of a mouse? Your dinner’s ready now, my dear, Sit in this easy seat, right here ; This cnp of tea is hot and strong, And while you dine I'll: siug a song. Oh, I’m a most unfortunate hen ; How little I know of pleasing men ! Td like to be pretty and dress very neat; I'd like smiles and dimples, and sweet, pretty feet; I'd like a street suit of the style, “Grecian bend ;” Of ruffles and puffles, I'd like—oh. no end! Cuicx. Curcx. THE DIME DIALOGUES I know what I'll have—Mr. Rooster, good day! From this moment, I vow, I'll have my own way! I'll sit when I please, nor ask of the men Any help to support me, a capable hen. Well, mother, I’m glad you’ve waked up at last, I feared you'd sleep on till the good time was past; That forever you’d run at his nod and his beck ; But now you're my free, darling, blessedest’ mother, Well rid of one rooster—pray don’t’ get another ! You and I’are both able to care’ for ourselves, Tl bet you, dear ma, we’ll live on the top shelves. (Hxn’s song, continued.) Good-by, Mr. Rooster, we’re going to leave you! Pray don’t let our going dishearten or grieve you! We know that for us you’ve toiled early and late, We hope you'll not miss us, your child and your mate I’m tired of sitting and scratching so long— I think it’s high time I sing a new sony, And this it shall be, Cut-cut-cut ! ka-daw-cut'! I'm free, oh, I’m free, Cut-cut-cut ! ka-daw-cut! For my part, I’ve seen so much trouble and strife, I vow and declare I'll never be a wife; I hate—vyes I hate all tyrannical men, Independent I'll live, a single old hen! Rooster. Pretty words for a female, independent and hate! This thing must be ended or I'm not Jupiter great ; I'm lord of this realm—Mrs. Rooster; come here, While I pull your dear nose and twist your small ear; Tl learn you your duty to your master and lord | And that young chick there I'll treat to the cord. Come here, I,say, yon huzzy, or I— (A pause ; a sudden. scrambling noise.) Lord save me, they’re gone like birds on the fly; And I’m Jupiter Tonares no more! Let me die! Be al Nt SLOW BUT SURE. SLOW BUT SURE. ¥OR SEVERAL MALES AND TWO FEMALES. Characters ° Journ Jones, LAWYER Bare, : Jom anv Bitz, two Roughs, Bropy Suorr and child, Mixer, Orricer, Betsey Burier. Scunz—Lawyer's office. JOHN sitting with his elbow on ‘he table, and his head leaning, despondingly, on his hand. Joun. The squire will be back in fifieen minutes, the boy says. Wonder what he will think to see me here? He will probably say, as I do myself now, that I had better have list- ened to father, and stuck to the farm, instead of going around the country, making an ape of myself trying to sell this con- founded patent bootjack! Twenty dollars a day, indeed! I would like to see twenty cents a day! Hang the thing! (Door opens cautiously, and BILL and JOE enter.) Jog. Hello, Short! So you've turned up again? Say, nobody here, is there? You see we've ventured into the lion’s jaws to see you, What are you up to now, dressed up 80 smart? Going to marry another Bridget McFlinnigan, and clear out with the dosh? Ha! ha! ha! That was well done, though. Come in with us again, John, and we'll show you something handsome, to the tune of five thousand ! Jonny. You are laboring under a mistake, sir; I don’t know either of you. Bru. That’s it; binff your old cronies, my pious Father Morton. Put on that old gray wig, anc read prayers at the Sailors’ Chapel.again, and I defy the best detective in to point his finger at little Short, the forger, burgler, and run- away husband! You're a sharp un, Father Morton. Oh, yes! Joan. (Réising.) What’s the meaning of all this? I tell you L never saw you before, and don’t know what you are talking about. Jor. (Slapping his shoulder.) Come, now, Father Morton, if you are sharp, so are we. Don’t try your dodges on us; we know you reading prayers, and we know you now; and you just stop your gasing and tell us what you are into Mum’s the word. 8 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Junn. (Aside) Thunder and hail! They will make me believe ’'m somebody else, in spite of my teeth! I tell you, once for all, Pm not the person you take me for. My name is John Jones, from-— Bippy Suort.. (Very loud, outside.) In here, your honor, T saw him go in mes‘If afore IT run to tell yees, me own by! \OrricER and» Brppy enter. She rushes at Joun with out- stretched arms.) Och, honey, ve’ve coom at Inst! How could ye go an’ trent your own Biddy that bad, who loved ye so? Say, Jimmy, darlint, how could ye, now, and me wapin’ mesilf to ashes? Och, wurra! Jon. © (Pushing her away.) Stand off, woman! Are you mad, or tipsy ? Bippy. Stan’ off. is it?) Dhrank, is it?) Ye villain! Where's the money ve shtole out of me old black stoekin’- fat under the bed inthe brown piicher, and runued away with it? Ye thavin’ bla’g’ard ? Joun. (Axide.) Ten thonsand furies! Am T John Jones or a thieving blackleg ? Will some kind friend inform me ? Take this wild creature away. I know nothing of her. She must be crazy ! Brppy. (Shaking her fist at him.) Do ye say to me face that ye niver saw me afore, an’ I yer own thrue wife? An’ tiere’s the ring will prove it, ye spalpeen! Look at the ring. Orrrcer. Be calm, my good woman; there may be some mistuke here—an accidental resemblance. — I know Short my- self, und am not quite sure he is the same, though the likeness is striking, sippy. A mistake is it, now 2? An’ T don't know me own husband, Jim Short, an’ the father tv me by?) Mike, honey, coom here, an see if he'll deny his own shild! Who is it, Mike, darlint ? Mrxe. Its pappy. Biopy. Yes, it’s pappy ; the could-blooded villain an’ he to deny it! Boo-oo. Jomx. Will no one listen to me? I protest 1 know ce me you, name onor, Own out. an’ Say, f to you ‘in t in’- ‘ith eS ie? he ce n’ he 16 y= 38 BLOW BUT SURE. ay nothing of this woman. Iam a stranger here, and was never in the city in my life until twenty-four hours ago. OrFiceR. The woman surely ought to know her hus- band. F Erppy. © Och, the murtherin’ blv’g’ard ! ~ Look for yourself, Jer Lonor, an’ see hity square off, as he allus did when T guy him a litde tap wi’ tue fire-shoovil! Don't T know him, though? Me own cousin, Meg McCarthy, she said, said she: “Don’t yees go for to marry the thavin’ Yankee b'y, Biddy, for it’s only the little bit.o” bounty poor Pat Teft yees, an’ his blissed bones a-molderin’ mong the nagers an’ rattlesnakes, as he’s afther, an’ then he'll clare an’ live ye.) Look well, Biddy, afore ye lape,” she said. An’ I blacked her eye for slandher- in? me b’y; bad loock to me fort. Only look at him, yer honor, dressed vp like a foine gintleman, wi? the money me poor, poor Patriek sold his blood for, an’ mesilf in rags, aw The poor little Mike eryim’ for a crust. (Wringing her hands and crying.) Orricer. This looks bad for you, my man; you must come With us, and have an investigation. Joun. Never sir! Town I'm from the country, and may Seem green enor gh to be the ready dupe of a pair of black- legs and a woma very fit 10 be their accomplice, but T raised a fair set of knuckles on the farm, and I'll fight you singly or all together hefere you'll force me to own an Trish termagant for my wife, even with her lovely offspring thrown in. Orricrr. ‘ome, come, none of this, or [ will arrest you 8 for resisting be law, (Enter LAWYER TLATNE.) Brame. Wei. well, quite a gathering, Any tronble, Mr, Officer? Ah, Jean, how dye do? (Shake handy) Puther Up, or did you cs ae alone? Glad to-sce you, my boy. Jousx. Tam cite alone, and a stranger here, Will you Hot inform the of cer that he need not urrest me for this vix- en's runaway hus and? Poor wretch! I don't blame bim for Tunning away. Buaise. Ha. ha, ha! Well, that’s « joke, snre enough, Orricer. Lek here, Blaine, you know this fellow ? ‘Brppy. Och, yer honor, don’t IT krow bim betther nor a bushel o’ Connaught peratees. THE DIME DIALOGUES. TICER, Stop your noise, woman, or you may get locked self, ..4E. Bless your soul, known him all his life. My old end Jones’ boy, down in York county. Come, clear these folks out now. Know him? He never was of the farm until three months ago—or was it four, John ? OFFICER. I beg your pardcn, Mr. Jones; it’s all a mistake This woman was deceived by the resemblance. Where aré those men I saw here? I’m sure I recognized that notorious Swagen. I hope he hasn’t given me the slip. (Hztt tn haste.) Bippy. (Howling.) No mistake at all at all. Its me own dear Jim. (Mr. BLAINE gently forces her out.) BLAINE. Quite an adventure, my young friend. Ha, ha! But what are you doing here? Come up to see the sights— eh? Joun. No, sir; come up to make a donkey of myself! Buatwwe. Not so badas that. Let’s hear about it. Jorn. To tell the truth, Squire Blaine, working on the farm seemed like slow plodding to me. I thought if I could only start out on my own hook, it would be the easiest thing in the world to make money. So when a fellow came along with his famous patent bootjack, I was all ready to nab it, he told such a fine story. Father said, “ Look well before you leap, John.” A dull old saw I called it then, but a wise one now. I took an agency, and was going to make fifteen or twenty dollars a day. Pshaw! Buaring. Don’t pay much better than farming, eh ? Joun. I was sure of my bread and butter on the farm, at any rate, and that’s more than I can say now, not to menticn the pleasant little incidents that happen to one in traveling, like sleeping with a few of the youngest children, and other creeping things, “cause sister Jane’s come on, and we're rather crowded,” and wiping my face on a greasy apron for a towel. And then I’ve been taken for a blackleg, swindler, and I don’t know what all; and if you had not come in just as you did, should probably be in jail now for a forger or house-breaker, or else dodging the amiable Biddy’s fire-shovel ! Buaing. . Well, John, if an old man’s advice is worth any thing, I should say, stick to the farm. It’s slow, but sure, and you've seen enough ef patent bootjacks. - we 7 res SLOW BUT S8URB. 88 Joun. T’ve learned a lesson, squire ; and if ever I get back, you will nardly see me jumping at patent agencies again, even With the tempting bait of twenty dollars a day. From this lime forth I mean to stick to the farm. It may be slow, but its sure. (A knock.) Buarng. Come in. (Znter BETSEY BUTLER.) Buarng. Well, my young woman, what can I do for you? Betsey. I don’t know, sir. I am a stranger here, alone. My name is Betsey Butler, fram Elmtown. I came from the fountry, a week ago, thinking to better my condition, and— Buarmg. And live like a lady in town ? Betsky. Oh, sir, not to live’an idle life; but the hard work ©n the farm became so tiresome, and the country boys and girls seemed so coarse and uncultivated, that I determined to Come to the city and try to make my way here. But, dear me, [ am most unhappy. I took service in the millinery establish- Ment of Madame Scandal, on First Street, the woman com- Pelling me to make a deposit of twenty dollars for my good behavior, she said. It was all the money I had. At the end of the week the managing woman turned me away, saying I did not answer her purpose. She kept my money, und I did Rot know what to do but come here for advice. Buarwwe. (Writing.) Here, John; take this. It is a notice for Madame Scandal to disgorge or suffer arrest. Don’t come back without the money, if you have to use your patent boot- Jack. (Heit Joun.) Now, Betsey, that fellow who has just gone out is a son of my old friend, farmer Jones, He, like you, got tired of the farm, and, like many another young man, Wanted to get rich without hard work. So he left his farm, has been knocked around for a few months, and to-day drifted in here, a tired and untappy dog. My advice, which he will Sladly follow, has been given, and he will return to the dear ld farm to work his way to independence by the slow and sure way of hard but honest and pleasant labor. My advice to you is to do likewise. I will see that you have money to &o home with, and John shal] accompany you, for it is on his Way home to Oakburn. Ah, here is John. (Enter Joun.) ' Jonn. Compelled her to fork over, and five dollars for Costa. There is twenty-five dollars, sir. ° 86 THE PIME DIALCGUES. 1 Capital, John! Now, John, this is Betsey But , your charge to Elmwood, and as much longer and further as—(both Joun and Betsey hang down their heads, on neem abashed)—as you two can arrange, Go, and be sure tl condition in life ia so full of comfort and content as_ that wherein two honest hearts, in confidence,work together, by slow und sure means, to the sume end, (Hzeunt JoEN and BETSEY, arm in-arn, as the curtain fills) CAUDLE'S VELOCIPEDE. FOR ONE MALE AND ONE FEMALE, [This ridiculuous colloquy will suggest its own costumes and sitaa- tions.) (Enter Mr. and Mrs. Caup1z, talking.) Mrs. Caupie.. Caudle, I would like to know what makes your face look so red? You look as if you had been intoxi- cated for a week. I do declare this is too bad.. Was tbere ever a woman ip this world so— Mr. ‘Caupie. _Now, my dear, don’t take on so. You know a new vehicle of locomotion has been introduced in town. It is called the velocipede, I rode one of these at the hall to-night before coming home, and it’s hard work, especi- aliy jor beginners, Been drinking? . No; I haven't drank any thing for six months! Mrs. Caupig. There, Caudle, just—just look at that! Torn the best pair of pants you had in the house! Now, how did that happen? Answer me that, sir! Mr. Cacupie. Wel", you see, I rode the velocipede this forenoon, and another machine ran into mine, and ais knew it I was spilled out cp the walk, and—and—my pant were torn. Mrs, Caupie. Ripped your coat, too, haven’t you? You didn’t want me to see that tear? And there's your best bea- ver all smashed up! Perhaps yowll say the velocipede did that? It did, did it? But, Mr. Candle, what’s the matter with your hands? Why, they’re all blistered up! CAUDLE'S VELOCIPEDS. 87 Mr. Cauprze. Three days riding the velocipede i: enough to blister anybody’s-hands;)but, it’s nothing when you get used to it. . Happens to all beginners, Mus. Caupie. What's the matter now, Caudle? You limp-asadf youchad been horribly injured! ~ Mn. Cavupts. 44 THE DIME DIALOGUES. al wasn’tiany oath in that ’ar that he told me to say... There wasn’t even a “darn” in it, and that's the civilest oath I know. Kercuum. You see he doegn’t even know what a civil oath is. 1 distinctly protest against the adinission of his tes- fimony. Re Gronxpy. My dear sir, the man is evidently confused. {%e Scroces) Do you know what swearing it mn Jaw? Scrocus, Why, yes, I believe Ldo.. it’s tein’ the truth as hard as you can, and fastenin’ it with a regular clincher. Sqgumre.. The man evidently hasan idea of it. | His com- mand of language is somewhat limited. (7 Scroges.) I will read the oath again, and you may repeat it after me. (Reads the oath, Scroees stands silent and perplezed.) Guruxpy. | Probably the gentleman’s memory’is poor, Let him read it. (Hands him book, and Scroses reads, “ I hereby testify,” ete.) ; Grunpy. Now, Mr. Scroggs, be composed and no one shall annoy you, Please to state what you know of -this case. Where do you attend church ? Scroces. Wal, most anywhere. Generally, though, I go over to Parson Lengthy’s, at Blueberry Corners, cause the seats are cushioned. Grunpy. Were you in attendance there the fifth Sunday of August last, in the afternoon? Scroces. Let me see. (Scratching his head.) I s'pose I've got to be pretty sure about the date? The last Sunday in August? That's the day Deacon Smith’s old gray mare run Xay. Wes, I remembers I was ‘there just that day. The arson preached about the angel under a juniper tree, dividin’ is discourse into eighteen parts, © Grenpy, No matter about that. Did you see the pris- ner there upon that occasion ? Scroces. Pete Sloper? IguessT did! He sat right next fo me, . Grounpy.. Can you say whether ht (ll asleep during the sermon ? Scroces. Wal, I wouldn’t like to gay any thing ag’in’ my neighbors, but I kind o’ mistrusted Pete rather lost track of the middle of the sermon - ayy 2 2 - * de a Se es cwr @® THE TRIAL Jus reear Lees, 45 Grunvy. "Tellus allyyou know atouth, Beem at the be inning, and don’t wait for questions, Scroggs. Wal, sir, I didn’t go to meetin’ that forenoon. lb was awful hot that day, and our folks they went off and left Sobrina Higgins—that’s Widder Higginses girl that works few our house—they left her to, hum to make the cheese. Bo, says I, “ Sobrina, I'll stay tew hum and keep yer company.” Sebrina she Jaughed and said— Grunpy. No matter about Sobrina. We only want your testimony as to what you saw in the church, You say you Sat next to Peter Sloper; tell us about his going to sleep. Scroees. You'll lose the best part of the story, then: I *Xpect, though, Sobrina wouldn’t like to have me tell, ’cause You see the widder won't consent to any thing till I get settled. But, about Pete Sloper: I went to meetin’ in the afternoon, ind turned into the first empty'seat, and who shonld I set lown alongside of but Pete. As I was a-sayin’, it was awtul tot, and after the parson gin out the text about the angel and be juniper tree, I kinder lost myself thinking about Sobrina, ‘ind didn’t notice any thing till I heard a noise like somebody Sawin’ wood with a dull saw. © That sort o’ roused me up, 8nd I found it was Pete a-snorin’. He lind his cyes shet and hig mouth wide open, and he was a-goi’ it like a saw-mill, His head kept a-goin’ one side and Vother, und sometimes for'ard, and then he'd sort o’ start up. I hunched: him. ana Stepped on. his toesy but it didn’t do no good, Twas ateerd folks would think it was me, and besides he got to leanin’ up ag’in’ mea little too close for such warm weather, 80 I jest took out a pin from my coat and stuck it into him abont half way up to the head. | Jocks! that brought him up With'a jerk like a jack-knife! » The folks back of us snickered, and just then the parson said, “ eighteenthly and finally,” so 1 Knew the sermon was about over, and I kept him awake the Fest of the time by pinchin’ him occasionally. And that’s sil know about it. Grunpy. That is sufficient. The evidence is clear and decisive. 7 * , Kercuum. (Cross-eramining.) A question or two, if you Please. You say my client was asleep?” Scroces. I wouldn’t like ‘to:'say‘as* to: that. Pete's a 46 THE DIME DIALOGUES. neighbor, and hus done me many,a good turn now and then. Kercnum. Did he have his eyes shut ? Scroges. Yes, sir, fast shet. Kercnum. Meditating, probably. You have led us to in- fer that my client was asleep. New, sir, do you know lie was asleep ? Scroaes. I don’t know as he was asleep, but he had his eyes shet, and he snored, and his head kept a-noddin’, Ketouum. (Shuts his eyes, nods his head, and snores.) Do you pretend to say that I was asleep ? Scroaes. I could tell better by sticking a pin into-you. Kercnuum. Getting sharp allatonce. I’veno more questions: (Scroaes retires, and GrunDy brings forward blind CARMAN, who 8 sivorn.) Grunpy. What is your name? Carman. Darius Carman. Grunpy., Where do you live? CarMan. At Waterford, three miles this side of Blueberry Corners. : Grundy. Where do you attend church? Carman. At the Corners. I've heard Parson Lengthy every Sunday for the past ten years. Grounpy. Will yon tell us what you know:of the prison- er’s sleeping in meeting on the fifth Sunday of August last ? Carman. I can tell you ‘all I knew about it. The day was very warm, and sometimes, especially* in the afternoon, Parson Leagthy is apt to be a little tedious, and— Grunpy. No reflections.on Parson Lengthy, sir. CakMAN. I didn’t meati to say any thing against the par- son. Only as I was saying, when the weather is hot, and the sermon gets upward of sixteenthly, it gives a man of only or- dinary resolution. a disposition to drowse a little On. the Sunday mentioned I observed that when the parson got along to seventhly, Mr. Sloper began to subside into a gentle sleep, and by the time he got to tenthly, was as dead in sleep as 4 salt shad. Just after the parson announced seventeenthly, he suddenly woke, and remained awake during the rest of the discourse. , Gruxpy. Where do yeu sit in chureh? = nd in 1i8 0 1S; Ny TBE TRIAL OF PRTER SLOIPER, 2 Carman. My pew is next to that of Mr. Sloper. : Grunpy. Very good—no evidence could be more convine- ing. Ketcuum. (Cross-eramining.) I perccive, my friend, that you wear goggles. May I inquire the reason ? CarMan. I have the misfortune to be blind. Kercnum. How, then, could you know that my client was asleep ? Carman. “My hearing is acute. Ketcnum. Hearing! Can you hear people sleep ? Carman. Certainly. The man hada sleepy breath. Ketrcuum. Well, well. That's a new idea. And what Sort of a thing is a sleepy breath, pray ? Carman. Ican not describe it to you, sir. I only know it when I hear it. A blind man can tell when a person sleeps, better than one that has eyes. There isno mistakiug a sleepy breath. Ketcuum. Had you no otber evidence that Mr. Sloper Was asleep ? ~ Carman. None whatever. No amount of evidence could have made the matter more certain to my mind. Kercnum. That will do, sir. Squire GoeeLes. Has the counsel for the prosecution any \hing to offer? + Grunpy. May it please the court, I have a few words to Bay. T appear before you on this solemn and momentous oc- Casion, charged with a responsibility no less important than that of vindicating the time-honored laws of Connecticnt, and the principles which are the basis of all social virtue and pros- perivy. . It is mo-common case which is before us. In his solemn march through the heavens, the sun looks down upon Qo question more fraught with good or ill, than the one which we come to consider, Well may mortal men shrink from such a responsibility. But the very magnitude of the issue urges me to effort. The majesty of insulted law, in thunder- tones, bids me demand redress. Human virtue and social Tespectability cry out from the very dust into which they have been trampled, and command me to lift up my voice and cry. Grasping, then, with both hands the eternal principles of troth and justice, I shall forever remain undisturbed by the 48 THE DIME DIALOGUES tempest which ragés harmlessly at my feet. There wili I cling unmoved, . “ And bid earth roll, nor heed her idle whirl.” Sir) go with me in imagination tothe lovely hamlet of Blue berry Corners. It is Sunday. It is August. The golden harvests have been gathered in, and the brown stubble rejoices in the fiery beams of the “swiii-winged arrows of Apollo.” In yonder stately building, whose spire rises more thaa a bun- dred and fifty feet toward heaven,dchold ar attentive congre- gafion. The choir have sung the second tune, and the vene- rable. minister rises in his place. Before him lies a sermon over Which he has spent days of brain-racking thought, and wasted any quantity of midnight vil, He has fully digested and elaborated his theme, divided and subdivided his dicourse, until, from its very symmetry, the dullest. mind can not fail to” comprehend it. Eighteen divisions! Think for a moment of the immense amount of labor required to elaborate eighteen distinct threads of argument, and to weave them all together into one strong and beautiful fabric. The discourse begins» Thought follows thought in quick successior, —The speaker's manner becomes fervid, his yoice musical, his: eye lit with chastened fire. The audience are breathless with attention, and from _ seventhly to seventeenthly the old clock ticks on unseen and unheard, Such, sir, is the power of eloquence. But, during all this soul-melting pathos, where was Peter Sloper? Asleep, sound asleep, sir! Snoring like a porpoise, and his head keeping time like a bob on a fish-line.. And so he sleeps and snores on, dreaming of pork and _pot-pie, while truth’s priceless treasures are dispensed to the waiting multi- tude. From the logical eighthly to the concluding eigh- teenthly, he is lost in beastly sleep, from which he is aroused only by the prick of a good, sharp pin!) Then he comes up with a jerk like a jack-knife—them’s the witnesse’s own words, sir—“ with a ierk like a jack-knife.” I forbear to dwell upon the enormity of an offense like this. One might well wonder that swift judgment did not overtake him in the midst of his carnal slumbers! “Where was thine arm, oh Vengeance? where thy rod?” Aliew, me, sir, very” briefly. to -call your attention. to the cling Blue- iden vices Ho.” hun- gre- ene- non and sted rse, l to ent een nte tht er ed mn nd = & THE TRIAL OF PETER SLOPER. 49 peculiar force of the evidence in this case... It rests upon the incontrovertible testimony of the senses, Will not. a man believe what he sees with his own eyes, and ‘hears with his own ears? Here we have the testimony of two unimpeach- able. witnesses, one of whom saw Peter Sloper sleep, and the other heard him. .With respect to the testimony of the first witness, I presume I need say but little. Mr. Scroggs gives his testimony in a clear, straightforward manner. He Sat next the accused in Church, saw him close his eyes, heard him snore, and watched the oscillations of his sleepy head. To crown the whole, and render the pro verwhelming, he pinches him and punches him, and finally sticks a pin. into him, when, lo! the sleeper comes to life! Sir, I will nof in- sult your good sense by laboring to prove a self-evident truth. Peter Sloper was asleep, sir, and the man who could believe otherwise, might believe that the moon is made. of green cheese.* Ketecnom... Hope the counsel won’t hurt his hands. Gronpy., (Zo Ketcnum.) Shut up! The case of Mr. Carman, sir, is peculiar, We all know that the senses. form a fiyefold partnership, in which, if one of the firm becomes insolvent, the others come forward and make up the Joss. The blind, for instance, read with their fingers, while their auditory nerves cetect the. faintest waves of sound. Instances are re corded in which the sense of hearing had become so acute that-ordinary conversation was heard halfa mile; and in the celebrated case of Jarvis vs. Jones, (Chitty on the Nature of’ Testimony, First. edition, vol. 2d., sec. 59.) Dr. Oculist testified that-blind. people generally have the external ear enlarged. Mr. Carman is indeed blind, but Nature, kind and indulgent mother, has in part made up the loss by sharpening his ears, His testimony adds the only elenvent that was wanting tc make assurance doubly sure—the accused had a sleepy breath. The eye may be deceived, the ear, long accustomed to distin- guish sounds, never | dir, the facts are before you. If the criminal shall go un- whipped of justice, if the claims of law and the interests of society shall be disregarded, tha last hope of humanity wilt * Mr, Grundy gesticulates violently, frequently sependee bands, at the dose i hie sentences ; iv tbis inetance very | 6 THE DIME) DIALOGUES. flicker in the socket and go out, and weshall be Isftix midnight dark ness.to exclaim, “Oh, judgment, tron azt fed to brutish beasts, And men bave lat tneir reascn.”” Sir, I have done. To the best of my ability I have de- fended the interests committed to my care. I know not what may be the decision of the court; but, in the march of ages yet to'come, ‘as generation after generation shal. read the re- cords of this cay’s doings, I ask no prouder fame than the testimony of an approving world that Grundy did his duty. Squire Goce llas the counsel for the defense any thing to say ? ; Kerenum. May it please the court: the question which we come to consideris one of simple fact. If it can be proved that my client was wickedly and feloniously asleep, then, ae- cording to the 47th statute of the Blne-book, he must pay the penalty. But, sir, it has not been proved that my client was asleep, and if it had been so proved, I am prepared to show fhat the case does. not fall within the intent of the ‘statute «foresaid, I shall not weary your patience, sir, with high-flown senti- ment, nor mflated words. “T am no orator, a3 ‘Srunds is, But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, And I have neither wit, ner worth, nor words, Action, nor utierance, nor the power of speech, S To stir men’s blood—I only speak right on.”’ It ig charged that my client was asleep. Upon what is the charge founded? Why upon the testimony of a love-lorn swain, who doesn’t know the difference between a civil and a profane oath, and who confesses that he was so absorbed with dreams of his lady+love, that he forgot where he waa, and never heard a word of the sermon, from ‘the text up to seventhly |. Evidence? Do you ca.) thit evidence?» Mr. Scroges acknowledges that he was dreaming down to se- yerthly—are you prepared to show that he was not dreaming down to seventeenthly, and that the story upon whose truth or falsehood depends my client’s reputation, is not all the fabri- cation of x sleepy brain? What, sir, shal] an innocent man be condemned on testimony like this?, Shall he be torn fronr ‘le- rat = he = & a we. ee THE TRIAL OF PETEN SLOPER. ob the arms of his lovely wife and weeping children, because Some youngster, who doesn’t know fiddlesticks, comes up here nd testifies that he saw him with his eyes shut ?. Why all the congregation knows that Deacon Sniffpole. shuts his eyes through three-fourths of every sermon that he hears, and ac- Companies his inward meditations with a most prodigious Snore, but who ever presumed to accuse tle deacon of sleep- ing in meeting? No man, sir. All concede that he is sims ply lost in profound thought, oblivious of time and_ space, because the spirit rules and not the flesh. Does it follow, Cither, that a man is asleep because he dves not observe when you touch him? What student of classic law does not. re- member how the great Socrates stood in his tracks through the most renowned battle of antiquity, so completely lost in thought that he didn’t fire a gun! It is only your small- minded men who never find thought of sufficient importance to absorb their entire attention, and yet, this fellow, who never had a thought in all his life, and would be scared at the symp- toms, if he should have one, has the audacity to come up here and say that my client was asleep! Well may it be said that “judgment has fled to brutish beasts.” The counsel for the prosecution has made the wonderful discovery that the testimony of Mr. Carman is peculiar, Al- low me to say, sir, that I quite agree with him. Indeed I regard it as the most peculiar.case on record. A man who i& blind—stone blind—testifies that he knew Mr. Sloper was asleep. And how did he know it? Why, he heard some- thing breathe, and therefore concluded that somebody was - asleep | It is urged, with a degree of plausibility, that the hearing of a blind man becomes exceedingly acute. This I do not deny, though I am hardly prepared to swallow the accom- Panying statement that the blind have enlarged ears! That such may be the case in the present instance I am willing to grant. Indeed I am not disposed to doubt the size of Mr, Carman’s ears, nor those of the honorable counsel! Admit- ting, then, that Mr. Carman has long ears, very long ears, if you choose, how does he know that it was my client who breathed? I know a dozen men who breathe, and breathe lard, under every one of -Parsop Lengtiy’s sermons; how © TRE DIME DIALOacTs does he know it was not one of these? Does he fudge by the direction of the ‘sound? Deacon Sniffpole sits in a bee line with Mr. Sloper and Mr. Carman—how does he, or any other man know but that the deacon’s snore slipped over 7 client’s head on its way to Mr. Carnian’s remarkable ears f Sir, such evidence is nonsense—mere moonshine! ow did he know that my client was asleep? Le heard romebody breathe! How did he know that he sat near kim? He heard somebody breathe!! How did he know that be wag even in the house? He heard somebody breathe!!! Alas! alas! the works on evidence will all have to be re-written, Perhaps my friend here will underake the job. The forty-seventh statute of the Blue-book limits the offense of sleeping in meeting to a single case, viz., “ wickedly and feloniously sleeping.” Now, sir, who presumes to say that my client was “ wickedly and feloniously asleep?” The law ac- counts every man innocent until he is proven guilty, and I maintain that it must be shown that my client was not only asleep, but asleep advisedly and on purpose. Granting that he was asleep—which observe I do not grant—the circum. stances of the case may have been such as to exonerate him entirely. Consider, sir, the soporific tendencies of a long ser mon on a hot day. Consider the size of Mr. Sloper’s interest- ing family. Consider the liability of children to croup, whooping-cough, measles and all the other ills to whiclt youth ful flesh is heir. Think of a fond father, kept awake all night by the vociferous cries of the darling of his household, then, on the Sabbath dutifully wending his wey to the house of prayer, and there, overcome by weariness and watching quietly dropping into the slumber which exhausted nature demands. Who would cast the first stone at such a man? I Lave imagined but a single case, one of the many undet which it might be perfectly innocent fora worthy man, like my client, to sleep in meeting. Surely I need not tax you patience further.” Why, sir,* just Jook at the man; does he ook like a sleepy-head ? Away with such a palpable slander I am not pleading, sir, in behalf of negligence, much Tess uf wanton and flagrant violation of law. But I see before gC OTR iat Sea Sheree ee soe —_——— M3) ae ee i ee THE TRIAT: OF PTRIRE SLOP. 53 Mean honest and foully traduced man, the stay and comfort Of a trusting and affectionate wife, the sole provider for the Nine interesting olive-plants which ‘cluster about bis’ table. Can T look upon such a picture of domestic felicity, and then behold that picture marred and destroyed ? Gan I see that Once happy home elotded with sorrow and drowned in tears, deprived of itsonce honored and respected head? Can I behold all this unmoved ? Sir, T appeal to you as a man of honor, T appeal to you us @ lover of justice, I appeal to you as the head of a family, Whether this man should be declared guilty! You occupy, sir, 2, responsible position. Upon your decision depends not Only the fate of my client, but® the fite of all those of whom he is the support and stay. You sit in the seat of the judge; into your hands it is given to dispense justice. This, and this only, I ask for my client. Let your decision be in favor f slandered innocence; let your words carry peace to an §nxious and sorrowing, household; and ,as the snow of years fathers thick upon your head, you shall look back upon this Jay with a consciousness of duty done, and experience of a truth that virtue is:its own glorious reward, DECISION OF THE COURT. Squme Grounpy. In coming to a decision upon ‘this *im- Portant and interesting case, the court has taken into account Not only the technical regulations of the law, but also the vast interests, social and moral, which are jeopardized by the un- Tebuked influence of a bad example. From the’ testimony Offered, the fact of the sleeping seems to be placed beyond Gispute. This is, of itself, an offense of no small magnitude —a profanation of the Sabbath, and a desecration of the Sanctuary—not to be permitted in any well-ordered commu- hity. But, however strongly we may condemn the act, we &re pound carefully to observe “the law’s intent and meanine,” &nd to beware lest we go beyond the bounds of its authority, The stateze limits penal iniliction to a single case, viz. “wickedly and feloniously sleeping”) This ‘has not been Proved against the accused, and it therefore becomes the duty Of the court, to pronounce him in we eye of the law,“ not Guilty.” -» ee Ne As, however ‘2 some sense “custos riorum,” the: cou- 5a THE DisatE DIALOGUES would advise the deacons of the church at Blueberry Corner to provide against the recurrence of such unseemly slumbers, 9 pre by charging the offender for lodgings at a rate varying from & shilling to half a crown, according to the length of the nap, ard the number of heads in the sermon, And the court also directs that Peter Sloper be immediately returned to the bosom of his anxious famiiy ; and furthermore, inasmuch as the counsels gro ana con have failed to establish any precedent or priaciple which shall redound to the public good, or to any gain save that of their own pockets, it shall devolve upon them to lodge with the court sufficient meney# to defray the expenses of this suit. (Lawyers look at each other. Curtain falls.) GETTING A PHOTOGRAPH. Characters : Araminta and Serna Brown, young ladies of Boston. JosnuA READE, @ country cousin. Mr. CamMERA, @ photographist. Scene I.—TZhe parlor of the Browns. Araminta. (Laying her hand persuasively on the arm of her country cousin.) Now, dear cousin Josh, you'll gratify — me, I know; only promise. JosHua Reape. (Elevating his feet to the mantel.) Wal, now, I swow, Araminty, you’re rather hard on a feller that ~ hain’t used to your citified ways. Marm charged me’when I left hum to be mighty perticlar in my.acktions, and above all to look out how I sailed round the gals! She sed city wim- min warn’t to be depended on; they was mostly cotton, paint and whalebone. Now, there’s Jerushy Lane,she’s solid aver dupois, two hundred if a pound. T tell you she’s a trump. Jest as much as I can git my two arms round her. Araminta. Oh, yes, I dare say she is a fine girl, but I want your pnomise. Come, now, Joshua, be good, and let me have it. rners bers, Mm. & nap, itely ore, lish blie hall eve eae. -— —— = Cf GETIING A PHOTOGRAPH. 55 Josuva. I-should be bright. Tell me what you want me © promise. -Hov do I know but I shall have to bite my own off to keep i Araminta. Of course 1 wouldn't drive you to do any kine detrimental tu your welfare. ~ Josnua. Regimentals on my welfare! who’s he? I wish You'd try and speak a little better grammar ; Pye got a good ir eddication, but I hain’t.a colleger. I’ve been .two quarters tothe Flintsville High Schule, and my sister, Peggy, has been ‘othe female cemetery, Still, I.can’t. say that I understand tin, Seuma. Cous 1 Josh, I can speak plainly, and I’}l tell you What we want. We want you to have your photograph taken put in our album. Josnua. (Dropping his feet to the floor. My what? Sexma. Your photograph. Josuva. What in creation’s that ere? Oh,T'll bet I know. 's one of them picters onto a piece of pasteboard, where a ler has to stand bolt upright, alongside of a fine curtain, With his hand onto the back of a cheer, and his eyes rolled Sot like Jupiter! Dye seen some of them things. Sam Calomy had his took, and it looked exactly like a setting hen Come off to dust Lerself, AramuntTa.. But you'll oblige us, won't you, Joshua? Josuua. Idunno. I hain’t so sartain about. it, Setma. Oh, d>» be so kind. Of course, I wouldn’t. ask You if I didn’t fees sure that you will make a good-looking Picture. Josnca. Oh, so you're going to soft sawder me a little. fal; clap it on; J guess I can stand it, And I know Witbont “being told, that I’m enuff sight better looking than them little spider-legged critters that coine here a-visiting, a Wearing trowsers... There’s that. Mr, Fitz Snooks that was here ast night; he smells wuss than any doctor’s saddle-bags ; and Lain’t afeard.to bet a ten-dollar bill on the Bangsville Bank at-his mustash is glued on with some of Spaulding’s Pre- baired. I see’d him a-fixing of it, as if it kinder worked Lose, ‘ Arama. _ Oh, cousin Joshua, how can you? Szuma We will go to the artist to-morrow. &6 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Josiva. I s’pose you'll have it your own way, but hang me if Iwant it done. You're sartain you won't git mevin no scrape where my pockets will be picked’ and my wateh and puss filtered, and my'character ruined ? ARAMINTA. Oh, we'll take care of you. And now levs go to dinner; T hear the bell. Jesnua, Wal, I'm as hungry as a dog, but, I swow, I wish it was over. You've got so many new-fangled gimeracks onto your table that I don’t. dare to act myself. There’s- more towels than I could shake a stick’ at, and silver rings eenuff to make an ox-chain jest like dad’s. Waly with the Romans you must do as the Romans do, though I can’t say I fancy their st¥le. Come along, gals. : (Zxit ArnamintA, SELINA and JosHuA.) Scene Il.—The operating room of a photographer. Mr. Camera. Ah, good-morning, good-morning, ladies. ¢ Fine morning, sir; very fine. : Josnva. Yaas. The weather's well enuff, but it’s hotter here than the Fourth of July Wiled down, Smells funny, too. Kinder like spirits of turpentine, and kinder not. Mr. Camera. (Blandly.) Oh! ah! I dare say. Its a preparation we use to develop our pictures. Perfectly harm- 3 ing ? | Josnua. The gals here want my profile took. Mr Camera. Ob, ah, certainly. Perfectly proper. The ladies ‘usually are, you know. I always téll my friends to do as the ladies wish them to. They can’t be wrong if they do. Josaua. Wal, some wimin‘folks is well enuff. Now, toere’s Jerusha Lane, she— Arasnnta. It is a good day for the operation, is it not, Mr. Camera ? Mr. CAMERA: Most splendid! Couldn’t have been better if it had been made to order. Plenty of light always ¢e- qtired, you know. Have your head, sir? Josuva. Wal I rather think 1 shan’t take it off, if it’s at tLe same to you. Maz. CaMpra Will you buve a vignette ? ° , less, sir. Well, my friends, what can I do for you this morn- , L hang Mein Watch ’ levs ow, I racks ere’g. rings the ay I es, er yy a \~ | GETTING A PHOTOGRAPH. 87 _Josaua. I.shouldn’t. want to promise till I'd. see’d her. Who is she * Mr. Camera. Ah! quite a joke! I meant to inquire if you woud be taken wholly or in part ? Josuua. (Lorrified.) . Took apart! no sir!.. I’d-like to see the man that had the pluck to do that little job. I'd cave his head in.as ’'d smash a rotten squash. Mr. Camera... My dear sir, pray don’t get so excited. .1 meant no harm. I merely desired to inquire if you would have a vignette or be taken full Jength. In the vignette we cut the lower limbs off, in the camera— Josnua.. (Rising angrily.) I swow, that’s too much; as if I was a-going to-set still and have my lower limbs, as you call ’em, cut off. You must take me for a, half-baked jackass. Seurina. (Svothingly.) Dear cousin Joshua, Mr. Camera means well. It is only in the picture that the lower part of * the body is not seen. You had better have a vignette, Trust to me—T’ll see you through this, safely, Josuua. (Taking her hand.) Come on! I hain’t afeard to go where you do, You're a slick gal, and I swow, if. it wi'n’t for Jerushy I'd court you a spell. MRrCaMERA. . (Seating Josnvua in a chair.) Sit at ease; leok natural. (Arranges the head support.) There, rest against that. Josnua.. (Bouncing up.) Darnation! Take that, pitch- “fork cut of my bead. Thain’t a piece of cheese to be toasted with a fork into me. Setiva. That is for your head to rest, against. Josuua, Oh, ho; wal, I spose I can stand that. (Mr. Camera brings out the instrument, and gets JosHvua int) @ focus.) Josnua. (Doubdtfuily.) Look here, squire, is that, thing a cannon ? Mr. CAMERA. Oh, no, indeed; that is what takes the pic- ture. (Bringing it still nearer and looking through the glass.) Josnua. (Springing to his feet.) vs, ashooter—I knowed ‘pwas, He’s taking aim, I won't be shot. for nobody. (Rushes twwward the door.) Anaminta. . (Catching han bythe arm.) No harm shall be Ame, Joshua ‘nly sit still—that’s a dear. (Reseats him.) 58 THK DIME DIALOGUES. Mr. Casmra. All ready. (Takes out his watch.) Direct your eyes, sir, to this piece of white paper. Sit perfectly still. Wink as often as is necessary. Now, then4 Josuvua. (Hacitedly.) Araminty, Seliny, where 'be ye? ARAMINTA and SEina together. Here—bebind the eurtain. Sit still, it will soon be over. Mr. Camera. (Jn a@ vered tone) Youve spoiled that negative by speaking; we'll try again. Now, do be quiet. Eyes as before—ready. ‘ ? (A moment's silence.) JosHua. (Breathlessly.) THauin’t I took? - Mr. Camera, Yes. I shall doubtless ‘have a splendid picture. Wait a few minutes until I can show you a speci- men. (fetires to a closet.) Josnusa. (Wiping his forehead.) I declare, I sweat as bad as though T’d been holding a plow to break up. I never felt so flustrated afore but once, and that was when I asked Jerushy to let me keep company with her. Sema. Oh, there’s nothing so very bad ‘about: it, when one gets accustomed to it. Mr. Camera. (Advancing with the plate) Tt is perfect. I never saw a better. ‘Shall I show it to you) sir? Josnua. (Bending over it with wide-open mouth.) Do you mean to say that’s me? Mr. CAMERA. Yes, sir; and a mast admirable representa tion. Josnua. Me!—Josh Reade? Mr. Camera. Yes, sir. Josnua, (Furtously.) Then I say you lie! That’s a nig ger! Jest as black a one as there is this side of Dixie; and if you don’t eat your words, Til prosecute you for blacking niy face as well as my character! (Presenting his fists.) Mr. Camera. (Jn alarm.) Pray, sir, don’t get excited. I protest—it’s an admirable likeness—seldom have I seen a better. Josoua. And Tsay it’s a nigger! Tf you say that’s me, if's the biggest Hie you ever’told, and [ll fix ye for telling it. ru— ARAMINTA. Oh! Joshua, dcn’t-—for the love of heaven, Joa't! Seu Jost Mr. C him.) him § home me— (Zi di THE SOCIETY FOR GENERAL IMPROVEMENT. Direct Seuina. Joshua! ’ still, Josnua. You needn’t Joshua me! Tl fix him! (zit 5 Mr. Camera through an inner door, which he fastens behind tak him.) Tliere! he’s got off. Wal, never mind; I shall meet a him ‘some day, and then he'll rue it. Come, gals, less go th home ; I'l! never set again for that little brass gun to fire at re mhe—I swow I won't! (Hvxit ail.) ict, lid ci- THE SOCIETY FOR GENERAL IMPROVEMENT. a FOR A NUMBER OF GIRLS, é (Enter Miss JosEPHINE SreBBins, a tall, angular. girl, dressed i: % with great primness.) JoOsePHINE. This is strange. Here is an envelope, properly ’ directed to my name, containing only this circular. (Reads, SELF-EXAMINING SOCIETY. DECLARATION, Among the many societies established in our country to extend the principles of christianity, and to improve the morals of the 4 people at large, it is a subject of real regret, that while so laudable & zeal is manifested, and so much pains taken to rémoye the mote i Out of our neighbor’s eye, there should be no society formed, no i pains taken to induce men to cast the beam out of their own; or, in | other words, a society whose end and aim should be to examine our i own hearts and lives, and see if we ourselves are not guilty of some | habits and vices that need reform, which are equally as bad as those which we are so ready to discover in our neighbors, This society, it would seem, ought to take the lead of all others, ~ and it should be the first object of our exertions to suppress the i vices and follies of mankind, “ Physician, heal thyself,” is an admo- nition coming from the highest authority, and is as applicable to the Scribes and Pharisees now, as it was eighteen hundred years ago. Did the members of our popular socicties, as well as others, take half the pains to examine themselves and correct their own faults, that they do to hunt up and expose the faults and follies of others, how mugh more like Curistiaus would they act! How much more ee 69 ie DIME DIALOGS: happy and peaceable would be the condition of every cormmunity aud neighborhood And were A SOCIETY FOR SELF-PXAMINATION once instituted in this or any place, and made as popular as our Temperance Soviéties, and many others now are, how much less running to and fro, or of numbers standing at the corners of the streets, “thanking God that they are not like other men,” should we then he- hold, CONSTITUTION. ARTICLE 1. This society shall be known by the name of the snir- EXAMINING SOCIETY, and shall be composed of members of both sexes, whose heads and hearts are capable of moral improvement. Ant. 2. The object of this society shall be, while we may see all other’s faults, to feel and correct our own; to suppress all manner of deccit and hypocrisy, slander and defamation, backbiting and evil-speaking, with all that tends to injure or defraud our neighbor, either of his property or his character. Art. 3. This society shall be independent of all other societies ; each member shall be vested with full powers and privileges to at- tend to his own concerns, and he shall make it his duty to mind Lis own business, and let others alone. And no Presidents, Vice-Presi- dents, Secretaries, Spies, Informers, Committees nor delegates shall ever be chosen by the society, to watch over the conduct of others, or make report of their neighbors’ misdoings, until such a work of charity shall have begun at ‘home. Ant. 4. There shail be no publie or private meetings of this so ciety, on any appointed days, to manage their concerns, or hear lee- tures delivered before it, but it sha'l be the duty of every member to meet himself alone every day, and listen to the lecture of his own conscience. Who sent it? What does it mean? I ama leader in the “ Society for General Improvement,” which meets here to- day to discuss the best means of getting rid of Mr. Merry. The School Directors insist upon keeping him, when it is known that he is not popular here, and I have purposely set apart to-day’s session to devise means for getting rid of him, It can not be that this circular has reference to our society. We don’t interfere with other folks’ affuirs, except where they interfere with ours, as for instance, like Mr. Merry, who talks freely against our proceedings, . There, I shouldn’t wonder if this circular was all Ais work!” But, it shall not. prevent. us doing justice in his case. Ihave at last enlisted that pretty Mrs. Tracy in our plans, and she has promised her’aid iu get- ting rid of that hateful Mr. Merry, and what she promises she. will execute, for Mrs. Tracy isso smart and sharp—as ali these young widows are. What is the reason the young widows always are sq smart? What—# James. Yes, I believe I saw it, but I did not read it. Anrrnuur. Did not read it! Why, Jim Sherman! you don’t know what you may have lost by not reading it! (Pulls a paper from his pocket and reads.) “Grand Gift Diss 4 tribution to take place at New York City on the 27th of June! Five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of presents to be distributed among the shareholders! Fifty thousand pres- ents, valued at from one dollar to twenty thousand dollars, to be given away!! Thirty thousand tickets already disposed of! One splendid farm in Ontario county—yalued at fifteen thousand dollars! One brown-stone front house on Fourth avenue in this city, valued at twenty thousand dollars! Three house-lots in Brooklyn, werth ten thousand each! One pait of beautiful carriage-horses, valued at seven thousand! Dia mond, opal, amethyst and garnet jewelry, worth all the way from fifty dollars to ten thousand! All to be given away to the ticket-holders! Magnificent chance to make your fortune, and at the same time do a charitable deed! The proceeds | of the sale are to be devoted to the establishment of a Home for the Widows of Soldiers and Sailors! Tickets one dollar Ate GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 7o each, sent by return mail! Possession of property given im- mediately after the distribution takes place! Inclose one dollar and a red stamp.to Jenkins & Co., No. — Broadway, New York, and receive your ticket by return mail! Be care- ful to write your post-office, county, and State, distinctly, that there may be no mistake ! N. B.. Wo Blanks! N. B. | This is no ordinary lottery swindle. P. S. Every thing conducted to the satisfaction of all concerned.” There, James, (triumphantly,) what do you think of that ? James. I think it the biggest piece of swindling I have heard of lately. Artuur. No, indeed! Itcan’t be! You must be mis- taken! Why, it is just as fair and open as day! They offer inducements enough, I should think, to convince anybody that they mean to do the honest thing. Why, they say especially that it is no lottery swindle! James. I don’t wonder that they do. And they must be very innocent-minded people indeed if they think anybody of Sense is going to believe them. They angle for fools, and will catch plenty of such fish. ArtHur. Only think of it! A farm worth fifteen thou- sand dollars! Why, Captain Smith’s farm isn’t worth half of that! And then those house-lots, and the brown-stone front in New York, and the carriage-horses! I should rather draw the horses than any of the other presents! And no blanks, Jim ; just think of it! James. I wouldn’t give a red cent for a ticket ! Artuur. Now, Jim Sherman! that’s going it a little too strong! And it’s for a charitable object, too. For the ben- efit of the widows of the soldiers and sailors. I thought yo Were very patriotic, James, but this don’t look much like ir, James. I professto be. But I see no reason why I should throw away a dollar to help on a humbug, because I am pat- Tiotic. Artaur. Why, a dollar may do some good. Every little helps, you know, with the widows and— James, I reckon Jenkins & Co, think so. But look here, Arthur, what a decidedly profitable operation it must be for 7s TE DIME DIALOGUES. them to take my dollar and give me a fifteen-thousand-dollar . farm, or a five-thousand-dollar set of jewelry for it! What a dreadful set of disinterested men they must be! I think Td give a dollar toward setting up a monument to their mem- ory if I should happen to ontlive them! Their virtues and graces must be beyond conipare! Arthur. Oh, you needn’t laugh, James. ‘You'll langh out of the other side when you see me riding round with my seven-thousand-dollar carriage-horses! and hear that some- \ body else got a farm, or a house in New York ! James. I shouldn’t wonder if I did laugh on all sides of | my mouth. ArtHur Jt seems beat unto me that I shall draw the horses ! James. I reckon you il draw tliem before they’i} draw you ! 4 Artaur. [shall besureand draw something, any way. u That adv rfisement says, “No Blunk:!? and Ithink” chal draw the hor-es, for ! dreamed cf hos s alflast aight. — , James Arthur Bunks. if y wveg ta co'lar, my advice is to you, huld ou to it, aud don’t go to fioling it away n | these city 6 amps that rnake their livirg by fleecing honest country people. - ; Arrnur. It’s toolate,now. I’ve already sen®my dollar. I sent it last night, and by day after to-morrow I shall look t for my ticket. And I shouldn’t wonder ify ou lived to s e the day when you'll be sorry that you hads’t invested a dollar too. James. I don’t think I shall live to be o!d «nough for tha Artur. Oh well, laugh if you want to I won’t bd hard on yu, though — V’il give you a ride with my horses when | get thenf” James Tha k you; you are very kind. Only, if I were you, Arthur, [ wouldn’t count my chickens before they are hatched. Eges will addle sometimes, you kuow. ~ Artur. There is no chatce for acdling in this case. But 1 must b+ gomg Mother will be wondering where I am. She s ut me over to the store for a pound of 1 ane Good-morniug — ( Goes.) ‘ lar. hat ink >m- nd my ne- he rT ag : Se. ae. re ee nny - GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 7 James. Pvor Arthur! His crelulity is refreshing! An- other instance of the old adage, “A fool and his money are secon parted.” Il go out and see how many more fools are in for this grand distribution. (Zzit.) « ? Scene Il.—James and Arruur meet at the pest-office, James. Ah, Arthur, is that you? [ve been wanting to see you for some time. (ARTHUR tres to pass on.) Hold on, I say. Dahead (Petulantly.) Well, what is it? James. I-should like to take a look at your horses! or, drive out to your farm, or— ArrTaur. Oh, hang the horses and farm! James. What! hasn’t it taken place ?—that great Gift Distribution ? ArtHurR. Well, yes, I believe so. JAMES. You believe so! Why, don’t you know? Artnur. Well, yes—-I—that is, I believe it has, James. Have your horses come? : Artnur. (Lesitatingly.) Well—no—you see, I didn’t draw the horses. James, You didn’t? Who did, then? Artur. I’m sure I don’t know. James. You don't? Well, that’s singular, secing as you were so sure of them. Artuur. Oh, well, there’s many a slip "tween the cup and the lip. James. Yes—that is true. But haven't you got a list of the drawing ? Artuur. Yes, but there is nothing said in regard to the horses, James. Perhaps they shuffled off the mortal coil before the drawing took place. I shouldn’t wonder at all. But don’t be so close-mouthed. Let’s hear the whole story, What @id you draw ? Artuur. The fact of it is, Jim, if [ tell you, you'll laugh @t me. : James. JI shall laugh, any wey. Though, if you or any 78 THE DIME DIALOGUES. ° one else has drawn any thing I shall be surprised Tell us all about it—that’s a good fellow. ArrHuUR. Well, you see, I got a Jist of the drawing, and saw that my number dad drawn a’prize. Naturally enough, you know, I expected it was the horses. So I wrote to Jen- kins & Co. and asked them about it. They wrote back that they were very sorry I had net drawn the horses; but they congratulated me on having drawn a very handsome female article of jewelry—no, hang it all, I mean a handsome article of female jewelry. And they furthermore informed me that if I would send one dollar to pay the expressage, they would forward the article. James: How very obliging in them. Axrtuur. I was disappointed, for I fully expected to get the horses, but I thought the handsome article of jewelry was worth sending for. I expected that it was a gould watch, or chain, or diamond breastpin, or something of that sort, and I made up my mind that if it was, ?d give it to Helen Briggs. Helen is a very fine girl, I think. JaMEs. I quite agree with you. Artuur. Well, I sent them the dollar, and told them to be sure and pack the article carefully— James. The female article? ArtuuR. Don’t poke fun ata fellow! I guessif you had lost a seven-thousand-dollar pair of horses all at once, you might make a mistake as bad as that. JAMES. Doubtless I should. I beg pardon. Pray go on. ArtHuUR. I told them to be sure and pack the article care- fully, so that no one need mistrust its value. JAMES. Yes, to be sure, and if they had known it had been a female article of jewelry— Arruur. Dokeepstill. After I sent the money I watched the express office pretty narrowly, and in a few days the pack- age came for me. I ran home with it, and opened it up iz my chamber, with the door locked ! JAMES. Well, what was it ? ARTHUR. You'd never guess! JAMES. I’m sure I could not. A bosom pin, perhaps? Arruur, No. A brass thirble! See! here it is! cos about two cents, I should judge (Holds up a thimble.) us ind sh, lat ey le at id —_ s & ve PLAYING SCHOOL, 19 James. Ha! ha! so that is an article of female jewelry, is it? Are you going to present it to Helen Briggs ? ArtHur. Don’t, Jim! Remember, I put you on your honor not to tell of this. If the other fellows should get hold of it I should never hear the last of it. And we are all liable to get taken in, you know. JaMEs. Especially when we buy tickets in a grand Gift Distribution which promises to give us. a seven-thousani-dol- lar horse for one dollar! Now, Arthur, my boy, you've learned lesson number one in this humbug advertising of great benefits for a small investment. Just make up your mind that no honest man can give you ten dollars’ worth for one dollar, . The papers calling themselves decent are all the time advertising for these swindlers. Even the so-called religious journals don’t hesitate to take these swindlers-by the hand, if that hand has got money in it. But, it is all a swindle just the same if the promise is. to give many dollars for one. The principle involves a dishonest act. So, frown down ey- ery thing of the kind. ArTHuR. Just what I will do; and, what is more, I’ve ordered the paper to be sent no more that published the ad- vertisement. James. That’s the talk! Touch the printers in their pockets and they'll soon get tired of advertising for thesa scoundrels, (Hzeunt.) PLAYING SCHOOL. Characters : Mary, Saran, and Harry CwAriie Foss, Brooks, Macere and Tom Harr, Annie Haun, CarrIn Brake, WIL BLAkE, a small boy. Screnz.— The sitting-room of Mr. Brooks’ house. Saran and Mary Brooxs—young ladies tn their teens—sewing. Harry Brooxs making a kite. Mary. (Looking. from the window.) Oh, Sarah! here somes Anna Hall, and Carrie Blake, and Charlie Foes, and £0 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Maggie Hart, and her brother Toth, and little Willie Blake, Bless the darling! Ain’t it nice? And everybody gone away, so that we can make all the noise we want to! Saran. It’ssplendid! Won't we have some fun? Harry, put away that kite this moment! (Opens the door, and the gay troop rush in.) Mary. (Shaking hands with all together.) Oh, girls, how glad I am to see you! CHARLIE. Why don’t you say, Boys, how glad I am to see you? Mary. Of course I’m not g.ad to see the boys. That wouldn’t be proper. : CHaruie. Wouldn’t it? Oh, how old and wise we are getting, aren’t we? Saran. Jom glad to see the boys. CHARLIE. You are a darling! Saran. You impertinent thing! Many. Come, take off your things. (They do so.) Every- body is gone away to quarterly meeting, and we'll have a — glorious time. Sarah and I are keeping house. Harry. Humph! you are! I wonder what I’m doing, then ? Mary. You are cutting up the last Journal to make a kite. Uncle Ned will set your ears up for you. Maacer. Now, what shall we do? Carrie. Let’s play something. CHARLIE. Let’s play tag. Mary. Girls don’t want to play tag; that’s a boy’s play How will hunt the slipper do? Harry. I motion we play marbles, or ball. Tom. Oh, bother! you can’t play any of those things with girls, Mary. (Catching him up and kissing him.) You little precious | Anna. | Let’s play visiting. Sarau. Oh, that’s played out, Jong ago. Carriz. I think we'd better play school. Play it in real earnest, and keep still,“and study and recite our lessons, just as we would if old Master Smith were here, with his oak ferule and his green glasses. A lake, gone airy, L the | to hat are PLAYING SCHOOL. s1 _ Cwarim. Capital! Only I shall beg leave to be allowed _ to snap apple-seeds at the girls. Mary. You'll be allowed no such thing, sir! ‘Macem. Who'll we have for schoolmistress ? Tom. Sarah Brooks. She’s the tallest and wears the longest dresses. Will you serve, Sarah ? Saran. Yes, if you'll all mind me. If you don’t, I shall ferule you. Tom. Where’s the ferule ? Sarau. Here's the rolling-pin. It’s just like the one Master Smith uses. Cuarim. Ugh! the sight of that is enough to give one the ague. Anna. Sarah, you must dress up in something to make you look like a schoolmarm. _ Mary. Here are grandmother’s cap and spectacles. (Sa- RAH puts them on.) And here’s mother’s blue apron, and Aunt Kathy’s long garden mitts. Oh, don’t she look com- ical ? Saran. Now, I am ready to begin. Charlie Foss, you are not one of the scholars ; you shall be School Committee and visit the school. You go and sit there behind the stove, out of the way until you are wanted. Cari. Well, that’s what I call cool. (Seats himself tn the place indicated.) Sarau. (Taking a high stool behind the kitchen table.) Come to order. _ Children, take your seats. Silence! School’s be- gun! Annie Hall, stop tittering. Henry Brooks, take your tnumb out of your mouth! Attend to your bvoks, all of you, while I register the names. (Writes in a book.) Tom. Maggie Hart is making up faces at me! Saran. Order! Maggie Hart, won’t you try and behave yourself. Harry. May I go out? Mary. No, you may sit down. Lay aside your books for a moment. I want to say a few words to you relative to your object in coming here. You are met here in these clas- sic halls to fit you to become—to become—to become men and women, and the heads of families,» I hope you appreci- até thoroughly your advantages. I hope you will not suffer 82 THE DIME DIALOGUES. your time to run to waste. And I am hoping that our rela- tions as teacher and pupils will be amicable— Tom. (In a@ loud whisper.) She’s of a hopeful disposition hain’t she ? Saran. Order! I must absolutely forbid all whispering in school hours. Now, take your books. The first class in geography, to which you all belong except little Willie Blake, will be attended to in a few moments. (All study intently. WxtL1E BLAKE throws paper wads at the others.) Saraw. First class in geography ready ? Aut. Yes marm! Saran. Come out into the floor. Attention! (Al bow.) Magzie Hart, what is a cape? Maerz. Something mother wears over her shoulders» in cold weather trimmed with fringe. Tom. (Ina whisper.) That's the first time I ever knew the weather had any trimmings. Saran. Very good, Anna Hall, what is an ocean ? Anna. The place where they laid the Atlantic cable. Saran. Tom Hart, what is a promontory ? Tom. Oh, it’s a big body of something. Saran. Name one, if you please. Tom. Squire Leary’s nose. Saran. Don’t be disrespectful, Thomas. Henry, what # an archipelago ? Harry. A fellow’s face after he has been bit by about five hundred musketoes. Saran. Carrie, which is the most important State in the Union ? Carniz. The State of Double Blessedness, Sarag. Mary Brooks, what is a bay ? Mary. Squire Golding’s bay mare. Saraw. That’s sufficient. You may be seated. I sh»? dull the class in grammar next. Please see that your lesso > are prepared. (Great show of studying) Saraw. Your lessons ready ? Aut. Yes, marm. i Baran. I will hear them, I hope-they are perfect, for I ae Ger es og the Oe expect Bpect cient any ° tl our relg- POSition Spering lass in Blake, a the bow.) 3 in = _ 2 PLAYING SCHOOL. 83 €xpect the school committee, Mr. Foss, in before night. to in- 8pect the school. I need not tell you that he is a very effi- Cient and accomplished scholar, and will not fail to observe &ny neglect of duty. Ciass in grammar! (All go énto the floor.) Saran. Anna Hall, what is grammar ? Anna. A book with a green cover, though sometimes it is red. Saran What does it treat of, Mary Brooks? Mary The verb “ to love,” and all that. Saran. Thomas Hart, how many languages are there? Tom. Two. English and French. Harry. Three, by jingo! English, Irish, and Choctaw! Sarau. What is an article, Maggie? Magers. Any thing you can pack in a carpet-bag, or any thing that you can not. It’s indefinite when somebody wants to help you carry it. : Saran. What is mode? Carrigz. The way a bonnet is trimmed. Saran. Harry, what is gender? Please define it. Harry. Gender is the distribution of sex. There are three genders: masculine, the names of males; feminine, the names of females; and. neuter, which applies to old maids, ol bachelors, and professors. Saran. That is sufficient. Thomas Hart, here is a little ode to our school committee man, which I desire you to de- liver in your best style when he comes in, as he will do soon. (CHar.iz Foss goes out.) And Willie Blake, I want you to speak the verse you learned Jast Sunday out of the primer ; you remember it? Wie. Js, mam. Saran. Mr. Foss is coming. (Looking from the window.) Now, behave your prettiest. When he enters the door, you must all rise and bow. Don’t laugh and suck your thumbs. (Loud rapping at the door. Sarau opens it, and ushers in CHARLIE Foss, tn a long overcoat almost touching the floor, and a tall hat. All the children rise, and bow repeatedly.) Cuaruiz Foss. Ahem! hem! Allow me to inquire, warm, how long your school has been in progress ? tA THE DIME DIALOGUES Saran. This is its first session. CHARLIE. (With great dignity.) Indeed! Allow me-— ahem! to congratulate you on the remarkable appearance of your pupils! Have you exercised them any in spelling? Sarnaw. Ihave. Would you like to hear theni? Cuarure. I should like to hear that large boy spell squaw- rynergonich. Saran. Tom, will you spell the word ? Tom. §-q-u-a-r-n-u-y-m-e-1-r-r— By jingo! I’ve forgot whether that’s all of it or not! Cuaruiz. That is correct, I think. ave they declaimed any ? Saran. They are prepared to do so. Willie, come out and speak your piece. Take your apron out of your mouth and wipe your nose. WILLE. It is a sin to *teal a pin, It is a greater to ’teal a tater. CHaritre. Admirable! Excellent in sentiment! Its from Shakspeare, I believe. Very well done, my little man! (Pats Witire on the head.) Saran. Thomas Hart, are you prepared with your Ode ? Tom. Yes, marm. Saran. Come forward and favor Mr. Foss with it. Tom. (Comes forward and bows with great emphasis.) “ Oh, most august, illustrious Mr. Foss, The winds may roar, the waves to mountains toss, The ships may dash and break themselves in twain, The stars may fall, and likewise fall the rain, Queen Emma visit blest New York ‘ and sich,’ The politicians die in the last ditch, The earth turn round but once the livelong day, And thunder-showers spoil a: tae new-mown hay: But ail the earth, and air, and sca, enshrine. Their praise, oh great Committce Man, 1s thine! To thee they bend the ever reverent knee, And own there’s naught like our School Committee.” VHARLIE. That is most sublime! Mr. Hart, I offer you ay most cordial thanks, And now, Miss Brooks, allow me to suggest that the school have a recess of half an hour while you and I discuss the graver matters of good behavior. ae : (Curtain falls.) ,_ Ae me ¥ kins =" for sta fou Oo! shi wi of - t CLOTHES FOR THE ULATIEN. CLOTHES FOR THE HEATHEN, FOR ONE MALE AND ONE FEMALE. (Enter Mr. and Mrs, Wiuxrus, taiking., Mrs. Witxrns, But they must have clothes, Mr. Wil kins. Mr. Wirxers. No, they mustn’t. It’s ridiculous nonsense for any collection of old women like your sewing society te start out a lot of things to the heathen in Africa. It is con- founded stupid, I say. What do you suppose a lot of coffee- Golored pagans, steeped in ignorance and vice, want with. shirts? Hey? Why, they don’t want ’em. They were born without ’em, weren’t they? And if it was right for them to have clothes, don’t you suppose they would have had ’em ? Don’t you suppose beneficent nature knows better than you and all the other heifers down at the sewing-bee? Why, it’s absolutely ridic— Mrs. Winks. Wilkins, you shan’t talk that way about— Mr. Wixrns. It’s perfectly ridiculous. But you go on; you go on and send them over there to Africa, and do you know what will happen? Do you know what will be the result of your tomfoolery? Why, the very first thing you know, some benighted heathen or other will go and mount one of those shirts some night, and paddle around in the dark and scai@ the other heathen, and make them believe in ghosts, and set the whole continent of Africa to falling down and sae- rificing themselves to a lot of old nine-headed idols, and jabbering away at their pagan prayers, You've got sins enough on your souls, old women, without that, I want you distinctly to understand. Mrs. Witxrys. Mr. Wilkins, you are too contemptible to notice. Mn. Wiuxrys. Yes, and [Pd like to know what an igno- rant heathen knows about shirts anyhow? Why, absolutely nothing ; and very likely the first fellow that tries to get into one will get it on upside down, and mix his legs all up in the sleeves, and get himself into a tangle and trip up, and fall over some precipice or other, and then there will be the responsi- 6S THE DIME DIALOGUES, bility fora mangled man added to ycur list of crimes. But Yd just like you to bear in mind that you don’t send any of my wardrobe out there. I don’t want a parcel of Ethiops sporting around or Afric’s suany shore in my linen. Not exactly. I like to see men enjoy themselves, but not in that indecent style. Mrs. Witxrms. But, Mr. Wilkins— Mr. Wrixrs. . Pretty spectacle it willbe now, won’t it? Forty-six little Africans dressed in a simple but chaste garl of white shirts, sitting along a bench in the Sunday school, wriggling their toes, or else enjoying themselves at races, sing- ing “ham fat ” and doing “the walk around.” That’s a pretty way to civilize a heathen land, ain’t it’ For they won’t wear pants, you observe. If you go to shipping a lot of pants over there, the first thing you know they will have them tacked on to some idol or other, or rammed full of feathers, and. be holding religious service before each pant. And as for socks, why, every sock as has eyer been sent over there, has been stuffed with sand, and used as w war-club. That’s. so and T’ye no doubt that very identical pair you’re knitting on now will brain a stray pagan some day or other in some muss. Mrs. Wirxis. Mr. Wilkins, you know that’s not so. Mr. Witxins. If you want to do your colored friends a service, why don’t you go to work and ship them a lot of the delicacies of the season? Why don’t you send out a shipload of canned missionaries, or something else that will make their mouths water? Or you might collect an assortment of second- hand jaw-bones, and give them to them for necklaces, and send out your own false teeth, or— Mrs, Wruxiws. Wilkins! I'll scratch— Mr. Wixxrns. Or go yourself, and see how it feels to be eaten, I won’t stop you. You've got my permission, you understand. But I pity the miserable pagan that stuffs him- self with you, You won’t agree with him. Yca never did with me, my love— Mrs. Wizxrss. Mr. Wilkins, you are a brute.” Mr. Witxrxs. But for my part I think you had_ better stay at home and attend to your children, instead of fooling down there at that society with a lot of tabbies, who slander their | nei for ted be fam bee on on ha his at 8 t CLOTHES FOR THE HATHEN, 3 neighbors, und make more mischief than they do underclothes for the naked Hottentois. Mrs. Witxiss. Mr. Wilkins, that’s not so. Mr. Wuxis. You'd beiterstay at home and sew for your family, that’s what youd better do, There’s William Henry, been going round for six week$ or more with only one gallus on his pauts, and looking like he was a deformed cripple, with one shoulder a foot higher than the other, while his stockings have no feet, and the upper part of them keep a-working up his leg until the boy nearly goes mad. Mrs. Wiixins. What an awful story, Wilkins. Mr. Wrxins. And Bucephulus Alexander's best Sunday jacket has burst out all over in spots, and Breckenridge Au- gustus, having run out of handkerchiefs, has lately practiced wiping his nose on his sleeve in church, until I was so. mor- tified that I had to take him out last Sunday and have him stood in the coal-hole and spanked like the nation by the sex- ton. Unaffected simplicity is all well enough in its way, but that’s carrying it a little too far. Mrs. Witgins. Mr. Wilkins, you know that’s not the truth. Mr. Wiixrms. And, as for Mary Jane, she is just going straight to her destruction. She’s got to imitating your ex- ample, and now she thinks it ain’t worth while to live if you can’t do something for the heathen. So what does she do yesterday but go and give my best high hat to the boy who swept the chimney, and it came nearly down to his waist, and she asked him if he had ever read Dr. McPherson’s treatise on the “Whole Duty of Man,” and he observed that he “didn’t know nuffin about dat dar, he reckon,” and while she went up-stairs to get it for him he embezzled two chunks of corned beef and a cold potato, and the first thing you know he will be in the penitentiary, and ali because of your blamed foolishness. Mrs. Wirxuxs. _ I declare, Mr. Wilkins, you are a scandal- ous story-teller. Mr. Witxrns. , And there’s the boys, it was only last Sa- turday that they took their crowd up-stairs, and played that the garret was Africa, and half of them represented heathen, aad ran around without a stitch of clothes on them, and Bu 88 THE DIME DIALOGUES. cephalus Alexander he distributed my clean shirts among cry, } them, and they upset all the barrels, fired away all my old Ther books in a skirmish with the sisvabee, and one of them who bello was a cannibal, liked to gnawed the whole thumb off of euch William Heity; trying to swallow him, because he said he \ ealf’ was a eee and it ain’t well yet. aS Mrs. Wizxins. Pshaw, Mr. Wilkins, you talk just like © a a--- the Mr. Witxrys. And then, what must Mary Jane do but mo try to represent a heathen fischer: wholly unenlightened by Christianity, trying to drown her infant in the sacred river, which she represented by sousing the cat in the bath-tub, but that animal wouldn’t play fair, and liked to scratched the whole hide off of her, while she let the water run until the — room was full, and it poured a perfect cascade out of the win- dow, which she said was to represent the overflowing of the Nile, like she read about in her Sunday school lesson. I say } it’s precisely outrageous to bring up your children in that kind ’ 8 of style. If you love the heathen, why, go among them, but don’t go to poisoning the minds of your innocent off- spring. Mrs. Wiuxrns. As long as you’ve made such a fuss about the sewing-circle, Mr. Wilkins, PI tell you what I’ve been making there, Mr. Wiixrs. You needn’t mind, I don’t want to hear it. Tm tired of hearing your talk, Just give me a chance to speak a word, now, will you? Mrs. Wimxrns. But— | . Mr. Wrxis. Oh, don’t “but” me; I won't listen to you. Mxs Wiixrns I wasn’t sewing for the heathen. Mr. Wivers. What? Murs. Witxrns. I didn’t stick a stitch for the heathen at the sewing-circle, Mr. Witxms. Well, what in the mischief were you focl- ing your time away down there for, then ? Mrs. Witgrss. Why —I— was — making — you —a— dozen— new — shirts —while—you—were—abusing—me— you'll break my heart—yes, you will. (Cries.) Ma. Wiens. There, now, don’t cry, my darling. Don’t nong r old who r of he like © bug oe ut oe a a ee A HARD CASE. 89 cry, I was only joking, you understand. I didn’t meun it. There, now. Don’t cry, I say, Sally. —Well, bellow tten, bellow. ‘You may cry till you are tired. I never did see such 2 woman as you. VPH—YVll go out and—«and—(A ealf’s bicat is heard)—strangle that calf for bleating, at this tine of night. (Rushes out.) j Mas. Witxrss. (Drying her tears suddenly.) e's a hea- then, that he is; and-II—Tll not go to sewiug-society any More but just stay at home to convert him. That I wil. * So, now ! (Hattt.) 7 A HARD CASE. FOR THREE OR MORE MALES. Scenz-—A Justice’s Court. Audience of boys on benches and chairs. JUDGE, (or Justice,) at table. Hnter CoNsTaBLE, with PETE, the prisoner. JupGeE. Bring the prisoner into court. Pere. Here he is, bonnd to blaze, as the spirit of turpen- tine said when it was on fire. Jupee. We will take a little fire out uf you. How do you live ? Pete. I ain’t particular, as the oyster said when they axed him if hed be fried or roasted. Juper. We don’t-want to hear what the oyster said, or the turpentine either. What do you follow ? Pere. Any thing that comes in my way, as the locomo- tive said when he run over the nigger. Jupee. We don’t care any thing about the locomotive. What’s your business ? Perse. That’s various, as the cat said when she stote the chicken off the table. JupcE. That comes nearer the line, I suppose. Pere. Altogether in my line, as the rope said when it was choking the pirate. Juper. If I hear any more absurd comparisons, I shall give you twelve months 90 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Pere. I’m done, as the beefsteak said to the cook. Juper. Now, sir, your punishment shall depend upon tit shortness and correctness of your answers. I suppose yov live by going round the dock. Perse. No, sir; I can’t go round the docks without a boat and I hain’t got one, Jupcr. Answer me—how do you get your bread ? Pere. Sometimes at Small’s, the baker, and sometimes I eat a tater. Jupez. No more of that stupid insolence. How do you support yourself? Petr. Sometimes on my legs, and sometimes on a chair. Jupen. I order you to answer this question correctly— how do you do? Pete. Pretty well, I thank you, Judge. How do you do? Juper. Constable, compel the prisoner to respect this court, and answer my questions. ConstaBLe. Prisoner, I'll give yer the handcuffs ef yer don’t mind yer p’s and q’s. Pete. Now don’t, mister. You've hand-cuffed me until my head is soft as a squeezed cherry. ConsTABLE. That’s the color o’ yer nose. Pere. Well red, is it? That's why the judge axes me so many questions. He wants some information. JupeE. Prisoner, ’ve a mind to send you up for thirty days. Perr. Bless my soul! The balloon would bust in less’n a week, an’ then whar'll yer court be? Jupen. If I remand you it will only put the county to expense for nothing. Pere. Beg your pardon. It would put the county to ex- pense for something. I eats like a grist-mill, an’ snores like a saw-mill, an’ wakens up like a locomotive-whistle, an’ if things ain’t ready for breakfast, then the buttons have te fly. Juper. Constable, take him out—take him beyond the limits and drop him. If he comes back you have my order to put him on bread and water for thirty days. This court is adjourned, 4 D the you Oat — 2s I "ou r, NOT AFRAID OF GHOSTS. 91 Pere. (Retiring.) Judge, let’s go an’ clear cur throats. Pye got three— duper. Away with hin. (ConsTABLE drags prisoner away as curtain falls.) NOT AFRAID OF GHOSTS. FOR TEN FEMALES AND ONE MALE. Characters ; Sux, JEANNIE, Lucy, Aunt Mary, ALICE, Mary, SALLIg, ANNIE, Maria, GHost, FRANK, Suz. Oh, girls, did you hear the news? Jeanniz. Why, what is the matter? Any one killed? Frank. Or married? that is more interesting to you girls. Lucy. You needn’t talk, Frank. Men care more for get- ting married than girls, any day, for they always do the ask- ing. Frank. Actions speak louder than words, my dear. Lucy. Yes, but actions and words together speak louder still. Auice. But, I say, Sue, what is the matter? Sur. You know Porter’s house, down on the river bank ? Mary. That old tumble-down place! Well? Sur. Why, Mr. Smith and Ben Hazen were rowing past shcre last night, and they heard some one scream, and saw ights in the windows. Satie. Saw lights in the windows! Why no one has fived there these five years. Marra. Who could’it have been, does any one know ? Suz. How can I tell you, when you keep interrupting me ? a Frank. Oh, that is the way with girls, you know; “not more than nine can speak at a time.” 89 THEK DIME DIALOGUES. Sanu. Well, there are nine here withoat you, su you can keep quiet. Go on, Sue. Sue. Well, they rowed ashore, got out°and went into the house. The moment they crossed the door-sill, some one slammed the Joor after them, and there they were In the dark. Frank. “ Blow ye breezes in the morn-i-ing, blow ! blow ! blow !” Sun. This was.at night. Well, the noise went on until Mr. Smith said, “ Who is there ?” FRANK. “ Bat, bat, come into my hat, and Tl give you a piece of bacon.” = Auice. You need oot say a word about girls interrupt- ing, Frank, for we have none of us said a word but you. Frank. Did [ interrupt you, Sue? I beg your pardon; I was only soliloquizing. Mary. Keep your soliloquizing to yourself, then. Well, Sue, what happened next ? Suz.. Why, somebody tripped him up, and as sure as yuu live there was no one in the room but those two. Annig.. Why, who did it, then ? FRANK. Oh, a loose brick on the floor, or the one in their hats. Marra. Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, Frank Brown ? Everybody knows that they don’t drink. Frank. Poor fellows! I wonder if they don’t eat, either? I don’t wonder if they do see ghosts. Autce. Did it hurt him ? Suz. No; he jumped right up again, and then all the noise stopped, and when they came out into the open air ugain all the lights had gone out of the windows. (FRANK raps on the floor. The girls draw closer together.) Frank. Yes, the moon had gone down behind the win- dows. Sauim, Marra. What was it? Lucy. What? Why, ghosts, of course! What else could it be? Awniz, Mary, Auice. Ghosts! Oh-h-h, Lucy! Sanu. Do you really think that there are such things as ghosts? Li court A L s a d I ain an 0 § VS .@& NOT AFRAID OF GHOSTS. 93 Lucy. Think that there are such things as ghosts! Of course I do. Aurcs.. Did you ever see one ? Lucy. No; but Aunt Mary did. AnntE, Manta. Wake up, Aunt Mary Wake up! Aunt Mary. Laws me, children! What’s the matter Auicr. Say, Aunt Mary, d did you ever see a ghost ? Mary. Are there any such things as ghosts, Aunt Mary ? AunT Mary. Really any ghosts! Mary Jane Cummings, ain’t you ashamed of yourself? Of course theré are ghosts, and ghostesses too ! Maria. Why, did yow ever see one ? Aunt Mary. See one? Of course I did! Why, one Hollow Eve, whem we were watching for twelve o’clock to come, your Aunt Nancy Maria and me sat there after all the others lad gone to bed. It was a dreadful dark night, the wind was blowing a perfect furycane— (FRANK knocks.: The girls all start.) JEANNIE. Let me sit next to Aunt Mary. I can’t hear off here. Maria. Seems to me that you have grown mighty deaf, all of a sudden. Frank. Yes, she seemed to hear and understand every word Will Green said when they were standing in ¥ entry last night, and he spoke lower than Aunt Mary, by a long shot. ; JEANNIE. I would like to know what business you had anywhere around ? Frank. Pursuit of knowledge, Jeannie—pursuit of knowl- edge! I wanted to know how the thing was done, so I thought that I would take a few lessons while I had the op: portunity to get them free gratis for nothing. JEANNIE. Listeners never hear any good of themselves. Frank. Well, to tell the truth, I could not hear enough to make any sense of it. I guess there wasn’t much in it, anyhow. Jeannie. More sense than you can talk, anyhow. Frank. That may be, for you are a great deal better judge of it than I am, seeing that you were 80 much closer to him than I was. 94 THE DIME DIALOGUBS. Aunt Mary. Hush, children ; do stop quarreling. “ Birds in their little nests agree, And ’tis a shameful sight When children of one family Fall out and chide and fight.” Besides, you know you ought to love one another. Frank. That is something like what Will Green was tell ing Jeannie last night. Lucy. Oh,stop your quarreling and let Aunt Mary go on. Aunt Mary. Well, as I was saying, it was Hollow Eve, and your Aunt Nancy Maria and me was watching for twelve o'clock to come. It was an awful night, pitch dark, (FRANK knocks again and the girls draw closer together,) and the wind was blowing a perfect furycane. - We were going to eat an apple, standing side by side, holding each other’s hands and looking into the glass. Well, just as I was about swallowing tne last mouthful, the door opened and— (Guost enters.) Murder me! There it is! (Exit ali.) ’ el] DIME SCHOOL SERIES. SEADLE AND COMPANY have now on their list the following highly attractive and desirm, Lisrocuus and SpxaKeRs, prepared expressly for schools, families, etc. ; printed from clear, opss ' ve. comprising the best collection of humoroug, burlesque and pathetic Dislogues, Dramas and hecitations publisned. Each volume 100 12mo pages. Sent postage paid on rece'pt of prico, taa Gente vach, DIME DIALOGUES, No. 1. Moecting of the Muses; or the Crowning of Flor-}The Mission of the Spirits. For five voung ladice ence Nightiogale. For nine young ladies. | Honobbbing. For five speakers, Sacting a Live Englishman. For three boys. |The Secret of Success. For three male speakera Tassy's Coronation. For male and female. | Young America. For three males and two femalos, ashion, Fo. two ladies. |The estiny of the Empress Josephine, For fow he Rehearsal. “or six boys, | females and one male. *Which will you Choose! For two boys. |The Folly of the Duel, For three male speakers, fue Queen of May. For two Lttle girls, |Dogmatism. For three male speakers. “Phe Tea-Party. Por four ladies. 'The Year’s Reckoning. For twelve females an¢ Three Scenes in the Wedded Life of Mr. Bradley.! one male, For male and female. |The Village with One Gentleman, For elghs fs Mire. Sniffles’ Confession. For male and female. ' males and one male. DIME DIALOGUES, No, 2. The Genius of Liberty, For two males and one,The Happy Family. For several ‘animals.’ female, The Rainbow. For several characters. yindorella, or the Little Glass Slipper, |How to Write* Popular’ Stories. For two mutee The Society for Doing Good and Saying Bad. For,/The New and the Old, For two males, several characters, |A Sensation at Last, For two males, The Golden Rule, Fortwo males and two fe-/The Greenhorn. For two males. males. |The Three Men of Science, For four males, The Gift of the Fairy Queen For several fe-/The Old Lady’s Will, For four males, males. |The Little Philosophers. For two little girls, Taken in and Dons For. For two characters. How to Find an Heir, For five males. The Country Aunt’s Visit te the City. For sev-'The Virtues. For six young ladies, eral characters. The Public Meeting, For five males and one fe The Two Romans, For two males, male, Trying the Characters. For three males, |The English Traveler, For two males, DIME DIALOGUES, No. 3. The May Queen, Musical and Floral Draina, as The Genteel Cook. A Humorous Colloquy. Foe performed at the Convent of Notre Dame, Cin-| two males. cinnati. For an entire school. Masterpiece. A Dramatic Charade. For twe The Dress Reform Convention, For ten female males and two femules. Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males./The Two Romans. A Colloquy en costume. For Courting under Difficulties. A Comedietta. For| two males. two males and one female, |The Same. Second scene, For two males. National Representatives, A Burlesque, For|Sbowing the White Featber. A Farce. For four four males. m-les and one female. Keeping the Draft. A Comedietta. For numer-|The Battle Call, A Recitative, For one male. was male characters, DIME DIALOGUES, No. 4. A Scenic Drama. For ten or The Stubbletown Volunteer. A Farce. Fortwe | msles and one female. A Petite Farce. For three! A Sosne from “Paul Pry.” For four males. |The area - Parlor Drama. For three males ‘sith, Hope «..t Charity. A Colloquy in verse.) ana one female, . For three litels girls, rs a \Bee, Clock and Broom. A Rhymed Fancy. Fos arby and Joan. A Minor Drama. For two| three little gir's, males and one female. The Rignt Way. A Colloquy. Vor two boys. he May. A Floral Fancy. Forsix little girls. |What the Ledger Says. A ‘“ Negro’? Burlesque ye Enchanted Princess. A Burlesque Divertiase-| For two males. aent. Fortwo males and several females. (The Crimesof Dress. A Colloquy. Fortwo boys @onor to whom Honor isDus, AColloquy. For The Rewsri of Benevolence, A Minor Drama seven males and one femala. For four males. Phrenology. A Discussion. For twenty males. The Letter, For two males. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 5. The Three Guesses. A Fairy Extravaganza. For! Interlude, For severa male and fomale char The Frost Kin schoo] or parior. |__ acters, Bentiment. A “ Three Persons’” Farce, lHow Not to Get an Anuar, A Colloquy. For Behind the Curtain. A Domestic Comedietta.! two females, For severs: characters, male and female. |Putting on Aira, A Cosloguy. For two males, The ta Pi Society, A Juvenile Farce. For five| The Straight Mark. A School Experience. Fo boys aud a teacher. e several boys, Examination Day at Madame Savante’s, A droll Two Ideas of Life. A Colloquy. For ten girls, tipisede, For several female characters, {Extract from Marino Plier Tr-dinz ‘'n “ Traps.” A Serio-comic Passage.|Ma-try-Money, An Acting Charade. A Partics by 4 veral male characte | Drama, ©201-Bo3s’ Triben: A Dramatic Epi-|The Six Virtues. For six young ladies. For ted or more boys. Fashionable Reyuir-menta. Wo. threo girls. ames of » loose tongue A DomweticlA Bevy of ’s(E7es). Yor signt or lea “ Dit DIALOGUES, No, 6. the War wry septa Secret. For seven fe meles, She oping, ” For three females and ore mela. aAmey e » Counellurs, For three ma.es. ¥he Post under Ditncuitiea, For tive x ales. e Votaries of Folly. For 2 number of femsios, William Tell. Fors whole school. |e Betsy’s Beaux. For four females ead twé Woinan’s Rights. Fer eoven femalec und two] males, malea, Libel Suit. For two females and one male All is not Gold that Gliwers, For three “emales nta Claus, For a number of boys. acd one male. |Christmas Fairies, For several little girls, Geverous Jew. For orx males. (The Three Rings. For two males. DIME DIALOGUES, No, 7. The Two Beggars, A Minor rama. For fourteen, Two Views of Life. ete For two females fernales. The Rights of Music. A Colfoquy and something The Earth-Child in Fairy-Leod. te and Rose Rach, Warts and Corns. -Apoplery and Palsy, Cramp, Catalepsy, Dropsy of emeut of the Brain, Epilepsy, Hiccough, Hydropbe* 3-Jaw, Neuralgia, Nightmare, Sunstroke, etc. a, Mumps. 5 Lung Fever, Pleurisy. VITY. ramp In the Stomach, Colic, Coetirencas, of the Liver, Kidneys, Spleen, Stemach and Bowe Vomi . > —Billious Remittent Fever, Boile, Burns and Scalda, Venom Sankes, Bites of I s, Chilblains, Cancer, Congestive Fever, Carbuncie ar-ache, Fever and Ague, Felon, Frost Bites, Malignant Postule, Nose-Bleeding, Rup- nfula, Spraine, Tooth Ache, Typhoid Fever, etc, .—Apparent Death from Noxious Vapors, Apparent Death from Harccal, Apparent from Lightning, Apparent Death by Hanging, Bleeding from a Wound, Belladona, Hycacvamus, Stramonium and Coniym, Clothing ov Fire, Upsetting of a Boat. ANTIDUT N.—Ammonia or Hartshorn, Antimonial Wine, Tartar Emetic, Arsenic, sive Sublimate, Dogwood, Ivy, etc, Nitric, Sulphuric, or Muriatic Acid, Niter or Saltpeter, Acid, ¢ , Laudanurma, Morphine, Prussic Acii, Sfanish Flies, Strong Lye, Strychnine 1 of Lead, and others, DISEASES OF CHILDREN.—Croup, Colic, Diarrhea, Fever, Fits, Spasm. Hooping-cough Nursing Sick Children, Rickets, Scrofula, Signs of Disease, RULES OF HEALTH. THE DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL; Oz, How to Keep House and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse, and Renovate; How to — Fis, and Make Garments; How to Cultivate Plants and Flowers; How to Care for Birds Household Lets, etc, ex. A Companion to the Dime “Cook” and “Recipe” Rooke, 100 pp i2mo. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. ' CONTENTS, ROW TO KEEP HOUSE.—System, Household Articles, Copper Vesaels, Blankets, House Clesx , To make a berg Easy and Handsome Chair, A Toilet-Table, A Lounge, A Psir of Ottemaza iudow Shades, A Washstand, A Wardrobe, An Hour Glass Work-Table, Fireboard of Paper Flowers, To make a Rug, Common Mate and Rugs, The Care of Beds, Feathers, Festherbeds, A Few Hints, Selection of Paper-Hanginga, The Nursery, Eecaping from Fire, Accidents from Burn- ng, How to Serve Dinne», tOW TO DYE AND CLEANSE,—General Directione, Scarlet, Crimson, Pink, Madder Red, ¥urple, Lilac, Purple Slate, Common Slate, Blue, Sky-Blue, Yellow, Orange, Nankeon, Green, Brown, Cinnamon Color, Black, To Dye Straw Bonnets Black, Straw-Color for Bilk, Orangs for Bilk, To Dye Feathers, To Clean Furs, To Clean a Coat, Crape Shawls, Scarfs, etc., Carpets, White Laso Vatli,Kid Gloves, Feathers for Beds, How to Wash and Iron, Starching, Boiding, f main. g, ec. To prepare Starch, Flour Starch, Glue Starch, Starchicg Clothes, Sprinkling Clothes, Foldin, Clotlos, Troning, Starcht To Clear Starch Lace, etc., Ironing Laces, Calicoes, Flannela, Bie Lace, To Wash White terpanes and Calico Qui To Restore Luster to Biack Silk, Bias Rev ter for Faded Mourning Dresses, Black Conta, etc, To Restore Dark-Blue (or any other Cei- gored) Siix or Riobon, To Bleach Wool, Silk, and Straw. BOW TO CUT AND MAKE G 'S.— A Dreae Sommer Jackets, Winter Jackets, A proza, Cape, Shirts, Children's Clothing, Infant lothing, Choice of Colors. © Huw TC TAKE CARE OF PLANTS, FLOWERS, Erc.—House Plante, Plants Detigxed te Biand Over, Plants Des or Flowering, Potting Plante for Winter Use, Bulbous Ficwers ia she House, Cainelia Japon , Green-house Plants, Mignonette Flowers thronghout the Year, Te Preserve Dablin Roots, To Protect Tender Plants Left Out, Compost fer Potting Plante, Ine Blower-Garden, Roses. Morthty R Geraniwina, Climbers for Walls, The .Passion-Fiorwer, Callas or Ethiopian Lily, Dabliss, Lilaca, Nasturtion, Gooseberry, Strav: berry, Celery, Asparagus, Quineé, To Obtain Different Flowers froin the Same Stem, To Remove Mildew and clight, HOW TO TAKE CARE OF BIRDS AND HOU HOLD ‘S.— When and How to Pay Canaries, Mtnation of the Cage, Food while Pairing, Boxes, Food while Resring tmotr Young, Time of Hatching, tlow to Feed Them, T> Bring the Young Onea up by Haud, Paste for Young Birla, German Peete fo- Cace Birds, To keep away Insects, To Distinguish the Ssx Secking Bird American Yeliow'Bird, Bullnaches. - DISEASES OF BIRDS AND THEIR TEA uation, SiS Inflemmatios rm @ariait, The Pip, Tre Husk, Egg Bound, Peren‘- "-- ~ min Yad fost . Popular American Tales. 100 Pages Crown Octavo, Complete. Fifteen Cents Each, BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. FIRST SERIES. 1—On the Plains. 2—The Border Spy. 3—Hermit of the Colorado Hills. 4—-Free Trappers’ Pass. 5—Bob Brant, Patriot and Spy. 6—The Guerrillas of the Osage. Old Bill Woodworth. 8—The Oronoco Chief. 9—The Prisoner of the Mill. W--The Secret Shot. ll—The Vicksburg Spy. 12—California Joe. | 18—Crazy Dan. | 14—The Traitor’s Doom. 15—The Freebooters. | 16—Old Hal Williams. 4 17—Kate Sharp. 18—The Frontier Scouts. 19—Sergeant Slasher. 20—Scouting Dave. 21— The Loyal Specter. 22—The Cave Secret. 23—Bella Burt. 24—The Wood Demon. 2—True Blue. | 26— Che Yankee Scout. il asthe es Flag. — e Boggs. 29—The Catton Thief. 30—Old Guess Markham. 31—O]d Rube, the Hunter. 32—The Scout's Vow. 883—Old Ben Manx. 34—The Regulators. 5—Tom Wiley. 36— Stung Serpent. 37—Border Ben. 38—Julia Bartram. 39—One-Eyed Sim. 40-—Scuttled. 41—The Silver Bullet. 42—Mike, the Guide. | 43—Black Steed of the Prairies, 44—The Cutter’s Cruise. SECOND SERIES. 1—Loyal Heart. 2—The Trail-Hunter. 8—Pirates of the Prairies. 4—The 'Trapper’s Daughter. 5—Pathaway. 6—Whitelaw. 7—White Wizard. 8—Hirl, the Hunchback. 9—The Red Warrior. 10—Quaker Saul, the Idiot Spy. 11—Mountain Max. 12—Thayen danegea. 18—The Mysterious Spy. 14—Prairie- Flower. 15—Redpath. 16—Tiger-Slayer. 17—-Red Ralph, the Ranger. 18—The Silent Rifleman. 19—The flying Horseman, 20—The Gold Guide. 21—The Death Track. 22—The Blue Brotherhood. 23—Alapaha, the Squaw. 24—The Border Bandits. 25--Assowaum, the Avenger. 26-—The Texan Spy. 27—The Red Trail. 28—The Sea Bandit. 29--Old Tiger, the Patriot, 30--The Bush Ranger. 81—The Outlaw Hunter. 32-—Giant Jake. 33—The Robber Prince. 84—Long Armed Sampson, 35—The Smuggler. 36—The Giant Trailer. 8%7—The Doomed Guide, 88—The Ranger’s Rifle, 89—War Axe, 40—Scotto, the Scout. 41—The Pirate Scud, Popular Fifty Cent Books. 1—The Dead Letter, An American Romance, By Seeley Regester. 2—The Figure Eight; or, the Mystery of Meredith Place. By Seeley Regester. 8—Who Was He? A Story of Two Lives. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 4—Our New States and Territories, By the late Albert D. Richardson. =~ The aboye books for sale by all Newsdeaiers ; or sent, post-paid, to any ad- dress, on receipt of price. BEADLE AND COMPANY, Publishers, 98 William 8t., N. Y. ‘Standard ‘School Series. BEADLE AND CompaNy have now on their lists the following highly ceils oa attractive text-books, prepared expressly for schools, families, etc. Each yolume contains 100 farre pages, printed irom clear, open type, comprising the best col- lection of Dialognes, Drainas and Recitations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The Dime School Series for the season of 1871-72, as far as now ecg embraces |} twenty-s1x volumes, viz. SPEAKERS. No. 1—Dimwe AMERICAN SPEAKER. No. 2—Dime Natronan SPEAKER. © No. 3—Dime Parrroric SPEAKER. — No. 4—Die Comic SPEAKER. No. 5—Dime Exocurionist. No. 6—Dime Humorous SPEAKER. © No. 7—Dime SranpanD SPEAKER. oy No. 8—Dive Stump SPEAKER. No. 9—Dime JuvENILE SPEAKER. — No. 10-Dime Spreap-EaGie pra a “etsy No. 11-Dime DrsaTEeR AND CraTRMan’s | Gume. No. 12-Diote Exurerrion SPEAKER. No: 13-Dime ‘Scnoon SPEAKER. — These books are replete with choice pieces” for the School. room, the for Homes, etc, They are drawn from pees sources, and contain =e choicest oratory of the times, — : 4 : DrIaLocuEs - Diaroaves | DIALOGUES | E DIALOGUES Ding. DrALoGuEes: Dove DraLoguEs: Dime DraLocuns © These volumes have been prepared with e special reference. to. o their availadi i in ali school-rooms. They are adapted to ebaols with or without the furniture | a stage, and introduce a range of characters suited to scholars of every grade, both | male andfemale. It is fair to assume that no volumes yet offered to pucole, ere | price, contain so many available and nseful dialogues and dramas, serious and comle Dme Scnoon Ree (Miso: and st Dime Metropist, %2P For sale by all newsdealers ; or sent, post-paid, toany address, on ee of p fhe CENTS each. : eR: nae (COMPANT, Publishers, 98 V William Breet, a. x a