A Dp oe x ff a ’ f a. = DIALOGUES No. 41. Ma. SF. EIWERS & CO., Publishers, (Jamns SULLIVA’, PROPRIETOR), $79 PEARL STREET, NEW YORK. Tue GYPSY DREAM BOOK AND FORTUNE TELLER, WITH NAPOLEON'S epee aA DETTE 5 ORACULUM CONTAINING THE True Interpretation of Dreams, AND THE NUMBERS OF THE EVENTS TO WHICH THEY APPLY. ALSO | Prognostications AND Divinations BY Cards, Dice, Dominoes, Dreams, Moles and Marks, Physioguomy, Physiology, Grounds of Tea and Coffee Cups, etc., etc, SIGNS, AUGURIES, CHARMS, AND INCANTATIONS. How to Get Rich, and How to Receive Oracles by Dreams, BY MAIL, POSTPAID, 12 CENTS PER COPY. 1e, and 2c, Stamps Taken. Address M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, “79 Pearl Street, New York City. THE DIME DIALOG UES No. AA. FOR SCHOOLS, HOMES AND AMATEUR THEATRICALS: FOR EXHIBITIONS, ENTERTAINMENTS AND DRAMATIC EVENINGS: FOR DRESS, SCENIC AND PROCESSIONAL PERFORMANCE. HUMEROUS, SERIOUS, PATHETIC, BURLESQUE, FARCIAL, MORAL AND INSTRUCTIVE. we EXPRESSLY PREPARED FOR THIS SERIES. a oe M. J. IVERS & CO., PUBLISHERS, (James Suutivan, Proprietor), % 879 Peart Srreut, New Yore. — Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1894, by : BEADLE AND ADAMS, ~~ In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, CONTENTS “: : I. _ PAGE THE HAPPY TERMINATION; or, A LUNATIC ABROAD.........0005 A Case of Mistaken Identity, For three males, three females ines two policemen. By H. Ellictt McBride. \ Ey: THE TELL-TALE TELEGRAM; or, AN IMPRESSIONABLE Woman... A Domestic Misunderstandiog, For one male and onefemale. By Mrs. B. St. John. ol. TOO MANY SMITHS; or, THE Mucu WAnrep EETUER, 602 cae A Village Event, For eight males and three females, By S. annie Smith. ; IV. THE THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES..0...00..ccccsesesceereeeres A Scenic, Dress and Stage Procession Drama. For fourteen young: ladies. By Prof. J. W. Harvey. ; Vv. ‘ THE AGENT AND ‘HIS: VICTIM ............. bakers nated tonne bem An Every Day Duet. For two males. By A. W. B. VI. PLAYING THE RACES; or, Tue Easy Roap 70 RUIN... see sees A Lesson In Race Track Morals, For three males, By E. a, Thatcher. vil. Be wise. TO mHn MOON: Scsriive css eca thas Minh aes coat etre «oped For two little girls. By Stella Prince. . Vill. : THE NEW SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL; or, THE Uproar tN SHANTY- es An All around Goss‘p Club. For ons male and five females. oe _ the O’Dowd Troupe. ies ' LIME KILN CLUB LOGIC; or, THE ARGUMENTUM AD Homrnew.. Fora ‘number of ‘‘ Colored Persons.” Elabora' ed from the ‘ Lime Kiln Olub » Proccedings. rE 9 17 vit 9 —* GonrENTs. oe PAGR BREAKING IN THE DOMINIE; of Way tHe Boys Dipn’r Eat MP SEHRS AURAL ST Aca Saclrs Sy ao AN NCTA ig OTs ERT EOS ee Rega An Academy Haze. For a teacher and a number of boys. By : Sam C. King. kD WATOHING FOR-SANTA ‘OLAUS .G)/cccimiiicss oS iccdebiem A Night Before Christmas Adventure. For five children. By Mrs. A. D. Lyon. ‘ “ A XII. ONE OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE NEW DISPENSATION... A Modern Exemplification. For two males and one female. By C. D. Morris. - ; 3 XUL. THE HIGHEST DUTY OF ALL; or, Tue Tusr Tuat Teurs....... An Episode of Hard Times. For five females. By Anna G, Somers, XIV A DOUBLE SURPRISE FOR THE SCOOPERS; or, UncLE BEn’s URWARD: ov carro eat ROR STR Ran, Seen Os lute: awa eM LEME A Hilarious “At Home” Affair, For five males and five females, By H. Elliott dC nides XV. THE STARS’ CONTENTION; or, Peace on Eartu, Goop Win To MERI Ras buen Capen ek hie te oS DOS oP KG Oo Valk weigh foe COE Ve COE TG isis Bi A Dress and Scenic Piece for girls, By Mrs, S. H. Ashmun, XVI. 51 THE MODEL Eee ea or, THE Way Nor ro Coxpver acs DOHOODN adore Vico oe eaberpe ca rte 8a as bid A ee ROR ad An Ilustration of Backwoods Education, For a school By D. Aes aan: XVIL a ob ALLEE SAMEE ’MELLICAN MAN......... Pigs ia Coad Opa aeeuee wee An En-character Monologue. By J. 0. ©. a. es : Zach VIEL: SCREEN DOORS; or, Kirry Munroon’s DIsasTER. Cadet 1, eee eew ae x Domestic peel For two mele and one female. By Mrs. © : MLL. eg i - THE DIME | DIALOGUES No. 41. A HAPPY TERMINATION; FeO) A LUNATIC ABROAD. — Characters :—CoRNELIUS CooPER, wn escaped lunatic, who has lost money by speculating in wheat ; MicwakL MCFLACKERTY, an Irishman who claims to be a nobleman, Miss Emiiy En- picort, ready and willing to become a happy bride ; Mrs. Marta Perkins, an old lady from the State of Vermont ; OxpaprtaAn Hoppiecrop, « reiative of AUNT Martra’s; Brip- Grr MagrupEr, an Irish girl in search of a situation ; taco OFFICERS. — ; Scunu.—A vo0m, neatly furnished. Miss Enpicort discovered, _ Miss Enpicorr. At last there isa prospect, Of course it may be a failure, but I hope not—oh, I hope not! For many | years I have lived in maiden meditation fancy free, but no there ig a prospect of a change! One Michael McFlackerty has written to me that he will do himself the honor of calling on me, and he will be here to-day. To-day, yes, to-day! How my heart throbs when I thiok that Mr. McFlackerty is coming to see me! He saysin his letter that he has heard me _ highly spoken of, and that he has a very great desire to meet me. And I shall be glad to meet him—yes, very glad, Heis an entire stranger, I know, but I feel sure that he is a good man, The question that comes up in my mind now is, how shall I receive him. Shall I appear somewhat cold and formal? Shall I treat him with considerable reserve? It will be our first meeting; but I believe I should not treat him in that way. I may drive him from me. And when he has been gallant enough to ask to call on me, when he has never even seen me, I should not treat him coolly, nor with reserve. T have replied to his note, and have said that I would gladly meet him. The time has been set for to-day, and of course [ am in a flutter of excitement, My heart palpitates, and some- _ thing seems to tell me that it will endina unionof heartsand aunion of hands. But, 1 must away and attend to some of — ‘the minor details. I want to make his visit as pleasant as possible. : ; (Heit Miss Enpicort, R,) — TAO ee THE DIME DIALOGUES. : (Enter Cornetius Coopmr, 2) CorneLius. Well, I thought I’d stop here awhile, any. how. The door was open and I walked in. When you see a door open you ought to walk in. That’s according to the Jaw of hydrostatics. Il sit down. Might as well sit down as stand up. Ay, more than that—it is better to sit down than to stand up particularly when you are tired. I’m tired, I’ve traveled some in my life. I’ve traveled some to-day, I’m tired. Ay, more than that—’m hungry. Tl sit down, (Seats himself in arocker.) Twas never here before—at least I have no recollection of having been here before. And it may be that I will never be here again, I’ve lost considerable money in my time—lost it in wheat speculations, but 1 can’t lose any more, and that’s a comfort to me, the weary traveler, The reason I can’t lose any more is because I haven’t any more to lose. All gone—all! Vanished like the rising sun be- fore the morning dew,. or, rather, like the morning sun before the rising dew, or—well, I'll not bother myself about that, now. It’s something of that kind, anyhow. If I had some dinner, or a three o *Glock lunch, I believe I’d feel better. If I'd get up and shove around a little 1 might find the kitchen, and if 1 could find the kitchen | might find something to eat, But [ hesitate about going to the kitchen. Sometimes the pro- prietor of the kitchen, or, I might say, the maid of the kitchen, or perhaps it would be better fo say the boss of the kitchen-— doesn’t want to be bothered with people who have lost their money in wheat and have become tramps. Ay, that’s the word—tramps/ Perhaps the maid of the kitchen doesn’t want to be bothered with such people, and the aforementioned maid of the kitchen, in such cases made and provided, is likely to hit the wheat speculator over the head with a grid dle or a tea kettle or any other implement of torture. (Hn'er Miss Expicorr, 2.) Mss Enpicorr. (Séurtled.) Oh, are you here? 7 (Rises and bows profoundiy.) Yes, lam here. 1 came = on the last train, and the last train got here on time. (Bows again.) Im pleased to meet you. Miss E. (Bows.) And Iam pleased to meet you. I was expécting you, but I did not know that you bad arrived. C. (Bows) And I didn’t know it either, until a few min- utes ago. Iam glad you were expecting me. TI wasn’t ex: pecting you, but [am just as much delighted. Yl do myself the honor of taking your hand. (Advi wnces and they shake hands.) This is a pleasure I little expected. I laven’t been as hungry fora week. But, wheat went down suddenly and all was lost. Tsay it with a sad heart and a tearful eye. Tn - gpite of this, however, I want to add that T am very much Pe eased to meet Pie 1 believe I never met you before, — A ITAPPY TERMINATION, i Miss E. No, but you wrote, Yes, I wrote. I have been something of a writer in my time. I have writtena story and twenty-five poems, but I have refrained from publishing them. Miss E. Oh, are youa writer? I am proud to meet you, and so glad that you have come, \ ©, And i’m glad that I came, too. You greet me kindly and you treat me magnificently. Yes, I'm mighty glad I came, and I think this isa good place to come to. I could stay here two weeks, or even a month of weeks, without any. compunctions of conscience. I suppose you never went into any wheat speculations? ! Miss B. (Aside ) How strangely he talks! (Zo CornELius.) You came from Ireland? ©. Faix, now, an’ do yez take me fur an Oirishman? = Miss E. You said in your letter that you were an Irish ord, C. (Still speaking like an Irishman.) Did Oi say that?— Faix, thin, Oi’ll stick to it. An’ phwat did Oi say that me name was? j ; Miss E. You said that it was Michael McFlackerty. C. Michael McFlackerty? Wull, wull! I know that great changes have come over me, an’ Oi have had mountains av’ | throuble, but Oi niver, niver thought that Oi w’u’d git turned into an Oirishman. ; Miss E. Don’t you think it is an honor to be an Irish lord? ©. Faix, an’ Oi dunno about that. : Miss E. Ah, yes I see how it is, Mr. McFlackerty. You are a modest man; you do not wish to be lionized. C. That’s it, that’s it, madam! ; I don’t wish to be lionized. Did yez know that wheat was goin’ up again? Miss E. Be seated, my lord. It gives me great pleasure to converse with you. Ihave much to say. | ex C. Yis, Oi’'ll be afther sittin’down. And Oi might add that it gives me great pleasure to convarse wid yez. (They seat themselves.) eee _ Miss E, I suppose you live in a castle? 3 : * ©, Oi was jist a-sayin’ afore yez come into the room that Oi was most powerful hungry. Have yez ony boiled bafe or — cold pertaters about the house? : ; . Miss EB. (Rises.) Really, are you hungry? I did not ' know, or I would have had dinner ready. I ‘will retire now _ and assist my niece to prepare dinner for you. Faix, now, if ye’ll do that Oil be intirely obleeged to _ ye. An’ Oi might add that, after Oi’ve had a bite av dinner, _ Oi can go on wid the courthin’ wid more alacrity. . - Miss BE. Oh, your highness, how you do make me blush! ©, Faix, now, an’ are yez blushin’? Wull, Oi’m sure Oi didn’t want to put yez to that throuble. es ; 12 MTR DIME DIALOGUES. Miss E, How amusing and entertaining you are! I knew you must be when 1 received your letter. ©. Yez resaved a letther from me thin? | Miss E, Oh, yes; you know you wrote and asked to have the honor of visiting me. C. (Aside.) Vm afraid I’m going to get into trouble bere. Miss E. But I'll retire and prepare the dinner. After din. ner I look forward to a long and pleasant talk with you. + ©. Yis, afther dinner the courthin will commence in rale _ airnest. Shure, now, an’ Oi tell yez that an Oirishman knows how to sphark loike a gintleman, Miss E. Oh, Mr. McFlackerty, you are such a lively man to talk! But, I must hasten and prepare dinner for you. C. Yis, ye may do that same wid great alacrity, Shure, an’ Oi haven’t bad onything to ate since Oi left ould Ireland an’ me castle on the banks av Donnybrook fair. Miss E. (Aside.) Whatan amusing man he is! And yet, he talks strangely. But V’ll prepare dinner, and then we'll have a pleasant talk, I feelsure that he is pleased with me. : (Heit Mass Enprcort, 22.) C. That woman has a soft head, as well as a soft heart, — (Seats himself.) She wouldn’t be a suitable woman to specu- late in wheat. She is looking for an Irishman, and she hasn't — sufficient discernment to see that I am not an Irishman. Well, I hope the Irishman won’t come until I get my dinner. His arrival now might destroy all my hopes in that direction. — ~ Oh, how hungry Lam! I believe I ought to wander into the kitchen and get a morsel of something to stay my appetite until dinner is ready. (Bnter MicuAnn McFiacwerty, L.) _Micwarn. The tap of the marnin’ to yez! pe C. (Rising.) The same to yez, mister. How’s yer woife an’ childer? — M. (Indignantly.) Sir! ©. (Speaking louder.) Tow’s yer woife an’ childer? M. Sir, do yez know whom ye are addhressin’? ga ©. Faix an’ Oi do. Ye’re nothin’ but an Oirishman loike meself. : M. Ye’re impertinent, sir; yis, sir, ye’re very impertinent, — _ ©. The same to you, sir! Did yez know that there had been an advance in the price of wheat? my M. Who are ye, an’ why are you here? ‘ C. Faix an’ Oil knock the head aff yez if you give me ony more av yer sass. Oi haven't had me dinner yet, but Oi can foight, onyhow. Are yez the Oirishman that the lady av the house has been lookin’ fur? ’ Bn pone ee that Oi am expicted. es ©, Well, yez may jist thravel on, This Oirishman has A HAPPY TERMINATION. 12° ; got ahead of yez, an’ the courthin’ has already commenced. — he says that ye live in a castle on the banks av the Gollyba- loofey, but Oi’m ahead av that by along shot, fur Oi live in - acastle on the banks ay Donnybrook fair A - M. Oi think ye’er an impostor. C. (Springing athim.) Say it again an Oi’ll tear yer eyes out an’ pull yer head aff! Oi didn’t thravel all the way from ould Oireland to be insulted by an orang outang av a bippo- potamus. D’ye moind that, now? . M. Oi don’t think ye’re altogether in yer roight mind. C. Faith an’ Oi’m jist as roight as onybody, an’ if ye’d go an’ tell onybody that Oi ought to be in a lunatic asylum, there w’u'd be an earthquake and a cyclone in two minutes. Oi’m not to be thrifled wid. M. Wull, it’s all roight. Oi don’t want to foight wid yez. Di s’pose ye mane well enough, but yez have a rapid way av shpakin’. Are yez goin’ to stay long? C, Now what did yez ax me that fur? Don’t yez know Oi’m goin’ to stay till afther dinner, onyhow? What did you come fur? M. Sir, you are impertinent! : z : C. Don’t give me ony sass or Oi’ll go at yez wid both fists. Ye’d betther lave the house now; the Jady doesn’t want to see — you. Oi’ve got yer place; you’ve been supphlanted, so to speak, ‘ M. (Aside.) What a haythen he is! , ‘(Enter Mrs, Marta Perkins and OBpaptAn Hoppiecror, L,) Mrs, Perkrys. Heow do yeou do? Heow air yeou all reound? The door was open and I jist stepped in. This is one of my neighbors, Mr. Obadiah Hopplecrop. He’s a kind of a relative, too. His mother was married to Jonah Pickers: gill, and Jonah was a half-uncle of my second cousin, Jemi-— ma Jerusha McEldowney. I spose yeou never seed me before. C. (Bowing profoundly.) No, madam, I have not bad that | honor. Iam glad to mect you—yes, very glad. Allow me to place a chair and invite you to be seated. (Places chair.) And, Mr. Hopplecrop, allow me to place a chair for you. (Places chair.). I assure youl am very glad to meet you both, _ and I welcome you tomy home. (Bows very low to Mrs. Par- kins, then to OBADIAH.) With the most profound respect I _ greet you and extend my warmest—my warmest—that is, did _ you know that there had been an advance in the price of wheat? s 1 ; Mrs. P. (Astde.) I think the gentleman’s mind is kinder onsteady. (Seats herself.) ke gpa Opapian. (Aside.) I wonder if that fellow isn’t a little — off? He seems kinder unbalanced, anyhow. (Seats himself.) ©, 1 forgot to introduce you to this gentleman. He is a 14 l _ THE DIME DIALOGUES, nobleman from the southwestern part of Ireland. (Mrs. Prretws and OBADIAH 718e and bow.) It gives me pleasure to - present Lord Fitzlamadaroozle, His castle is on the banks of the Gollybaloofey, (Mrs. Perxins’and Opapian bow again. Cornevius bows to them, then turns. and bows very low to MIcHAnL.) M. Oi hope yez won’t moind onything this man says. He talks loike a lunatic, and Oi belave he és a lunatic. C.. (Rushing up to MicuAEL with drawn fist.) Be jabers, ye lyin’ thafe av the woods, if yez call me a lunatic, Oil ‘knock yez into the middie av September. As Shakespeare says, ‘‘Tll not be juggled with.” D’ye moind that now? ~M.. Wull, wall, Oil take it all back. Oi didn’t want to offend yez—no, of course not, in me lady's own house. C. No, you’d better not. I wouldn’t allow it; I wouldn't have it. I’ve been oifended too much by you already. (Zo Mrs. Perkrns and OBapian.) Be seated, Mrs, Perkins; be seated, Mr. Hopplecrop. I want to make a speech to this assemnblage. (CORNELIUS bows and Mrs. Perkins and OBa- DIAH seat themselves.) : M. (Aside.) Surely, the man is clane crazy. (Enter Brrpeer Macruper, LZ.) Bripeer. The doore was open, an’ Oi thought Oi’d jist walk in. C. (Advunees and takes her hand.) Ym glad to meet you, — J assure you, it gives me unfeigned delight to meet you, as - wellas to greet you.» If you will just tell me who you are, Tl introduce you to this assembly, which, I am happy to state, is growing larger and larger every minute. ; B. Wiuil, sir, me name is Bridget Magruder, an’ Oi'm on the lookout fur a situation. C. (Bows, then introduces Bripenr.) Ladies and gentle men, it affords me immense delight. to intreduce to your. notice Miss Bridget Magruder, Miss Magruder is in search _ of asituation, — : Bees (Enter Miss Enpricort, R.) “ Miss E (Zo Corneuivs) Dinwer is ready. (Secs the others) Goodness gracious! Who are all these people? — Mrs. P. (Coming forward.) is it possible yeoudon't know me, Emily? 3 Miss EK. Oh, “yes, I know you, Aunt Maria (Kisses her.) But I was kind of set back by secing sc many people here. Mrs. P. Emiiy, this is Obadiah Hopplecrop. He's a kind of reiative of mine. His mother was married to Jonah Pick. ersgifl, and Jowah was a half-uncle to my cousin, Jemima — _Jerusha McEldowney (Ovaprtan dows very low, and CORNE —-Lius Jews to OBabray, then to Bripasr, then to Micnann) tes A HAPPY TERMINATION, Sek sa C. This reminds me of Simeon Swipes. Simeon had a grandfather, and that grandfather was a half-uncle to Alex- ander Haversack; and flaversack’s second cousin, Aminadab Doolittle, was a third cousin and a balf-uncle to Peter Jami- son’s wife, and Peter Jamison’s wife was a cousin of the grandfather of Eleazer’ Swampscott, who fell out of a corn- eb and breke bis neck M. (Aside.) Be jabers, the man’s as crazy as a loon. Mrs. P. (Zo Miss E.) Ill come to the point at once. I brought Obadinh down here to court you. (Opapran blushes and wipes his face vigorously with a large cotton handkerchief.) Ob, now, Obadiah, you needn’t blush. (Zo Miss E.) He’sa first-rate man, but he’s a widower, and he needs a wife He has four children—poor little dears—and they need a mother’s watchful care. Don’t they, Obadiah? é . Yes—I—that is—yes, indeed they do. Miss E. But this is very sudden. C. Yes, this 7s sudden; in fact, it is entirely too sudden, — if I understand the situation correctly, 1 have some interest in the lady in question, We were about to come to an under- standing on this point, but I got hungry very suddenly and very unexpectedly, and she went out to get the dinner, 1 don’t want Obadiah nor any of his sisters, nor his uncles, nor his cousins, nor his aunts to interfere in this case, After I have had my dinner I intend to proceed with my courting. — The lady was expecting me, and she wasn’t expecting Oba- diah, and Obadiah had better keep still or I'll raise Cain. M. Oi think there's a grand mistake here, Oiam the gin- tleman— C. The what? M. Oi say Oi am the gintleman that the lady was lookin’ for, an’ Oi’ll prove it to yez. (Zo Miss E.) Didn’t Oi write yeza letther tellin’ yes that Oi would he here to- -day? Miss E. Is your name Michael McFlackerty? M. It is, my lady. Miss E. Then I reccived a letter from you. But this gen- tleman (pointing to CORNELIUS) said that that was js name. —-M. Oi wouldn’t moind any thing that man says, He don’t _ know what he’s sayin’ more’n half the time, C. (Springing forward and raising his fist.) Silence, ven ignoramus of an Irishman from the banks of Gollybalootey ! ; - Silence, or I'll hew you down! M. Oil kape silence no longer, Oi* m not afraid av yez! O\ could flatten your nose in a minute an’ a half, (Shakes has jist in CORNELIUS'S face.) Oi’m not a man that can be tram- pled on and abused. Miss EB. I think the time has come for me to speak, Re C. Yes, ’ve just been waiting for you to speak and cal : é ‘me out to dinner, (Strikes an attitude : ) ‘ par vf THE DIME DIALOGUES. a Imperious Cesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.” Miss E, Mr. McIlackerty sent me word that he would call to see me today. This gentleman came in and he said that he was the man I expected. I don’t like the appearance of either of them. C. (Very loud.) WHAT! Miss E. I say I don’t like the appearance of either of Fart: But 1 can arrange this matter satisfactorily, C. Can you, oh, can you? ‘ “Miss E. * I would suggest that this gentleman (pointing to Cornesivus) would introduce Mr. McFlackerty to this lady. (Pointing to BRIDGE.) It appears that they both came from the green sward of Ireland. C. (Sings:) “ My modther an’ fadther were Irish, My modther an’ fadther were Irish, My modtber an’ fadther were Irish, An’ Oi was Irish, too.” I did introduce them some months ago, but I'll do it again, Mr, McFlackerty, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you _ to Miss Bridget Magruder. You are both from the green isle. Take her and be happy! She’s a fine lady, as you per- ceive. You can’t marry this lady, because I’m a little ahead. J intend to marry her myself. Miss E. No, sir, I think not. There seems to be some- thing wut with your head. It isn’t level. ‘You talk about wheat, but I’m afraid there is but little wheat in your compo. sition—there seems to be more cheat than wheat. OC. (Very loud). WHAT! B. (Zo Micuaxut.) Oishould loike very much to live on the banks of the Gollybaloofey. - M. Wull, Of'll considher the matther. Miss E. And now, I wish to say that I like the appearance of Mr, Obadiah Hopple— C. (Shouting.) WHAT! O, (Stammering) And I—and I—I—and I—I like—I like the appearance— — C. (Shouting) WHAT! (Enter two OrricErs, who take hold of CORNELIUS.) — _ First Orricer. We are sorry to disturb you, but this : a, = a lunatic. He escaped yesterday from the en “ 2 Mh "Didn't Oi tell yez that he was clane crazy? < ©. Let the procession move on! But I cid want some din. Oh, how I didi ; Tiss BE, And I was talking to a at ‘man, Oh, what an A TELL-TALE TELEGRAM, 49 ©. (Shouting.) WHAT! Miss E, (Goes and stands beside OBaptan.) I am so glad that I can cling to you as the vine clings to the sturdy oak. C. My love is lost, and so’s my dinner. B. (Goes and stands beside Mricwauu.) Aw’ Oi’m glad Oi can find some one to lean against, too. : C. (Sings as he 78 led out) ** My modther and fadther were Irish, My modther and fadther were Irish, My modther and fadther were Irish, And I was Irish, too.” f Miss E, What an unfortunate affair, and yet it was for- tunate. I call it a happy termination, : - ©. That’s it! that’s it! I call it a happy termination, too. Oh, I’m so glad. M. So’m Oi. B. And Oi. (Curtain.) Preperation nse men THE TELL-TALE TELEGRAM; s OR, AN IMPRESSIONABLE WOMAN. Characters:—Mr. EpwardD TERRENCE, Mrs. Epwarp : : TERRENCE. H [The striking feature of this dialogue is to be the acting of the male character; although not speaking a word during the entire scene, Mr. Terrence is by no means to be understood to be mute from choice, and must energetically express by forcible pantomime what he would say were he given the chance, for upon his acting depends the entire success __ of the little farce.] : a Scenn:—A modern drawing room with fire-place, piano, ete. Mrs. TERRENCE seated in low arm-chair before the fire, in attitude of profound dejection. She glances up at clock on mantel, then rises and begins to hurriedly pace the room. " Mrs. Terrence. Ten o’clock, and Teddy not yet come! ‘Oh, that I should have lived to find myself such an unhappy — woman! It seems incredible, yet what other possible con- struction can I put upon it? This wretched telegram! why — did I ever find it! It makes a certainty of what otherwise - might have been only conjecture; but for this, I never could ees igo THE DIME DIALOGUES. 1 really have believed it of Teddy. (Opens scrap of paper, and slowly reads:) “‘ ALLSATISFACTORY; WILL Nor FAIL YOu; TIME AND PLACE AS AGREED. FRANK!” Frank! Frances Andrews! My old and trusted school friend; it can be no other! Has he not always professed the greatest regard for her, and shown her a thousand little attentions—for my sake, as he said? How could I be so blind as not to see how things were tending? And this morning, when he kissed me good- by with such apparent tenderness, and told me not to be worried if he were detained a little later than usual. as he had apiece of important business to attend to after office hours, how little did I dream wfat that important business was! Even now, at this very moment, they are probably enjoying a petit souper for two at Delmonico’s after the play, for, of course, that was an appointment for the theater or opera, and Teddy will arrive home on the midnight train with the most heartfelt regrets at his detention! My birthday, too!—the day of all others when he sliould have remembered me, had not every spark of love and honor, both, have been dead! Oh, Teddy, Feddy! (Bursts into tears. Sound of opening door and man's voice outside. Mrs. TERRENCE springs up excitedly.) That is Teddy this minute! So he could not have gone to the theater, after all! Where, then, dave they been? But, he shall not find me in tears, Jama deeply wronged woman, and he shall feel the weight of my indignation. (Hnter, hur- riedly, Mr. TERRENCE, who advances with outstretched hands to his wife, who turns and faces him majestically. He stoops to kiss her, and she pushes him from her.) ° i . Mrs. T. How dare you, sir! ‘ 3 Mr. Terrence. (Looks surprised and is about to speak, when his wife tnterrupts him.) Mrs. T. Not» word! Ishall not listen. So! you thought to hoodwink your wife, did you? (Laughs sarcastically.) Mr. T. (in bewilderment.) 3 d Mrs T. Bat your little plot went wrong, for once! The best laid plans of mice and men, you know— : Mr. T. (Zrying to speak.) Mrs. T. Don’t interrupt me! I wish to say that all is over between us, (Rushes from room. Mr. TERRENCE attempts to follow, but she shuts the door tn his face. He shrugs his shoul- ders, then returns to chair in front of fire, seats himself and takes up newspaper. The door is cautiously opened; his wife peeps in, then again confronts ham.) Mrs. T. That is right! Seat yourself down coolly to read- ing the newspaper while your wifc’s heart is breaking. ‘ kr. T. (Rises and attempts to expostulate ) Mrs. T. But, I tell you I won’t listen! Midnight is a _ pretty time to come home when I’ve been waiting and watch- for ever since six o’clock! Six long, weary hours! ; A TELL-TALE TELEGRAM, kb Mr. T. (Looks at the clock; then pulls out his watch to com- pare notes.) Mrs. T. Oh, you needn’t look at that clock! You know it never keeps time, and is hours behind. But then, when one is in such charming company as-you have been enjoying, the time could hardly pass slowly enough! Mr. T. (Stares in consternation, and again tries to speak.) Mrs. T. 1 know perfectly well what you are going to say; you needn’t take the trouble. Here, look at this and deny your treachery if youcan! (7’lrusts paper in his hands; he © $3 takes and reads tt tv bewilderment, then looks inguiringly at his wife.) Mrs. T, You don’t recognize it, do you? Never saw it before? Fortunate for me that it dropped out of your pocket as you-were leaving the house, or I might even now be a trusting and unsuspicious wife, happy in her ignorance of her husband’s duplicity. Mr. T. (Starts forward and tries to speak.) Mrs. T. Words are useless. Do you think I am goose enough not to understand this? And not to know who Hrank is? Frances Andrews, whom I loved more devotedly than any one in the world, outside of my own immediate family? Oh, the traitress! : Mr. T. (Stares in speechless astonishment; then again — glances over paper which he still holds, and bursts into a roar of laughter.) Mrs. T. Tow dare you insult me so? Yes, it is a cause for laughter. JI suppose that you fondly i ree Iam not able to read between the lines! Mr. T. (Still laughing, tries to protest.) . Mrs. T. Oh, yes; 1 suppose you would like to have me interpret this as meaning a Club dinner, or a most pressing. business engagement, Mr. T. (Siniles broadly, and bows in acquiescence.) Mrs T. But, I know better! You met Frances Andrews by appointment, and you took her to Delmonico’s or the Brunswick to dine, and had a perfectly lovely time, while your poor little wife— Mr. T. (Looking at her compassionately, takes her hand and tries to draw her to him, but she snatches tt away.) : Mrs. T. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Frances always — dresses in such exquisite taste; you must have been ee : ‘proud of her—_. Mr. T. (Tries to énterrupt her.) Mrs. T, But, no doubt, you will say you were horribly fotedj had to go asan act of disinterested kindness, perhaps! While here have | been, all this lonely day, with only my thoughts — _ for company, fretting myself to death over your misdeeds— — 2 Me. T, (Opens his mouth, but his wife continues ney ng ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mrs. T. And on my dirthday, too, of all days, when, if your heart wasn’t perfectly callous, you would have had some slight feeling of compunction! Mr. T. (Sinks back in his chair, discouraged.) Mrs. T. Oh, you don't care to speak, do you? You don’t consider it worth while to ty to defend yourself! Perhaps you'd like me to say that I admire your conduct, and that { think Frances Andrews an angel! (She stops and waits for an answer, but Mr. Terrence merely shrugs his shoulders and walks to the further end of the room.) Ah, you haven’t a worl to say for yourself! I suppose you mean to do the injured innocent act now, or have the effrontery to play you dont care! Mr. T. (Turns and tries to speak.) Mrs. T. Nota word! not a single word!! Mr. T. (Loses his temper, and striding up to his wife, takes hold of her arm.) Mrs. T. Oh! you would strike me, perhaps—use personal violence! Well, Iam prepared for anything; do your worst! Mr. T. (Apparently beside himself with anger, drops her arm and rushes toward the door.) Mrs. T. (Scornfully,) You are, perhaps, afraid to go quite that far. Maybe you think I might ring for help! Mr. T, (Pauses at door.) Mrs. T. But, you needn't worry; I will endure anything before I will make a scandal for the servants to retail. Mr. T. (Returns slowly and seats himself again.) Mrs..T.. Have you any excuse to offer for yourself? Mr. T. (Glances at her coldly, then looks away.) Mrs. T. (Furiously.) Do you hear me addressing a remark to you? Mr. T. (Pretends not to hear; takes up a book and begins to read.) Mrs. T. (Throwing herself on sofa, and bursting into tears.) Oh, mother! mother! If I had only taken your advice 1 might now have been a happy, thoughtless girl, instead of a broken-hearted, misused wife. Mr. T. (Throws down book, and going to sofa tries to take his wife in his arms, but she repulses him.) Mrs. T. Mamma never liked you! She said that you were selfish, and extravagant, and fickle, and I would live to rue it if I married you. Mr. T. (Gives her a glance of reproach and anger, then rises and paces up and down the oom.) , Mrs. T. (Still sobbing.) You might be all that, and yet not utterly heartless! Some men when they saw their wives in utter despair and misery might attempt a little consolation— might show a little pity for the woman who had loved: them so dearly. AM TELL-TALE TELEGRAM, |< —- oT Mr. T. (Again approaching her compasstonately.) Mrs. T. And it is so very little I have asked of you, after all! Only to tell me where you have been since six o’clock. Mr. T. (Linpatient.) — Mrs. T. And the meaning of that dreadful telegram— Mr. T. (Lifts his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders.) ; Mrs. T. And, if it really was Frances that au had the © appointment with— Mr. T. (Looks intensely amused.) ; : Mrs. T. And if you have really ceased to care just the least little bit for your poor little wife, who, in spite of all, sat loves you so dearly! ; Mr. T. (Approaching her tenderly.) Mrs. T. And you won't speak! (Sheagainbdursts into tears and buries her face in the sofa-pillows.) Mr. T. (Kneeling by her side, takes her handkerchief and tries to dry her eyes.) ‘ Mrs. T. (Rising and facing her husband wildly. =O Teddy, why do you not deny this awful thing? Do you want to break my heart? Mr. T. (Smiling, draws a velwet case from his pocket and pre- sents tt to her.) Mrs. T. What is this? (He motions her to open it, which she does.) A pearl bracelet! Just what I have been so long pining for! (Her husband points to the inscription, which she reads‘) ‘*'To Maude, on her tw enty- second birthday. From. her devoted husband. Then (turning to Mx. Terrence) you did remember my birthday, afterall! Oh, youdear boy! And _ this exquisite design—the very one you drew yourself the other evening! You must have had if made to order. (Her hus- . band nods.) And at Tiffany’s, too! Did Frank Brown (@ light scems to burst upon her) was that from whom the telegram was? It was, I know it was! You bad had him execute the order for you, as he engraves and designs for the firm, and this dispatch was from him, in regard to it! I see it all! How could 1 ever have been’ such an idiot! And you, the most loving and devoted of husbands! Oh, Teddy, how I love you! ; (Curtain THE DIME DIALOGUES. TOO MANY SMITHS; OR, THE MUCH-WANTED LETTER. A LETTER IN THE POST-OFFICE FOR MR. SMITH, "Characters :—Mrs, Stevens, who has no sympathy with the follies of youth ; Minune Srrvens, her niece ; Mrs, Grora — SMITH, @ jealous wife; Mr. Suirn, Mrunie’s lover» MR. JOHN Sart, whose mother adores him ; Mr. Grorae Sur: Cit, a married man who firts; Mr. Parrick Smirn, who expects some money by mail; Mr LeaNnpER SMiru, who is looking _ for an answer to a “proposal Mr. JEROME, Smiru, who 7s — fond of eating, and expects an invitation to a wedding ; Mr. © “Puri Situ, who is anaious to hear from his business — manager in New York; Mn. Hezexian SMITH, @ minister looking for a call, ACE I ScaNE. — Comper table apartment in Mrs, Sri house. Mini discovered knitting. Minne. How tired I am of this everlasting knitting, IT suppose when each chair in the house has two tidies that it can call its own, I shall have to begin making covers for the dishes, I wonder that Auntie doesn't sct me at knitting clothes for her. Dear! dear! I wish I could go out some- times, like other girls do. Or, even if I could have company at home, life wouldn’t be so dreary. To-day Mr, Smith calls, and, though I have learned to be very happy when he is | near, I shall be sent from the room, or have to sit over in the — corner, while auntie talks to him, I should love to talk to” : Mr. Smith—he is so good and kind—in fact, I almost feel— (Enter Mrs. STEVENS in wrap and bonnet.) ‘ -_ Mrs. Stevens, (Sternly.) Mildred, 1am going out, and I _ depend oepeu to work faithfully during my absence, Don’t — gaze out of the window, for there may bea young man pass- ing, and I wouldn’t for the world have him think that you were looking at him. Should one call, do not admit es while lam away. However, there is no danger of that, Mr. Smith is the on y one that I expect this week, and to- riortow- is his day. He-merely drops in to converse: with me on tem- aaerauee matters Now, remember my seen ne, 5 ee . (Hxit.) TOO MANY SMITHS, M. Whata mistake! Mr. Smith said he would come this afternoon, and how glad 1 am that auntie has gone out. Yet, | if Tam not to admit any man, what good will ber absence do me? I suppose] would incur her everlasting displeasure if I “Were bold enough to let him in She was very cross, too. She always calls me Mildred when she fecls cross. She even } told me this morning how much I cost Ler, I wish I could | £0 away somewhere and carn my own living. Or if I could } live with somebody who loved me, how happy I would be. , (Enter Mr, Smiri.) M. Alarmed.) Ol! excuse me, Mr. Smith, but auntie ex- Pressly forbid me admitting any one during her absence. Mr. Smrtu. But you did not admit me, Iclaimed the pre- ' Togative of an old friend, and walked in unceremoniously with- Out waiting for an invitation. And am I really so fortunate as to find you alone? » _M. Auntie would scarcely call it fortunate. She never al- ' lows me to sce company alone, She has gone out, but may > Teturn at any moment. |. Mr. 8. Then it behooves me to say at once what I have long hoped for an opportunity to say. Your auntie has been » Cruel tome. Ihave been coming here evening after evening | just for the sake of gladdening my: eyes with a sight of you, | and my ears by the sound of your sweet voice, and half the » time you have been banished to another room. When you | have been allowed to remain, Mrs. Stevens has never left us for single minute. Millie, my darling, let me tell you while I » yet have time, that I love you very much. Can you give me Some little hope that I am loved in return? ' My Oh, Mr. Smith! you frighten me! Auntie says she | has no patience with the follies of youth. | Mr. 8. (Monng nearer and drawing her to him.) Never ' Mind auntie; she is a secoad consideration. Do you think ® you could love me, pet? . M. (struggling feebly.) I scarcely know—I do like you— 7} but, auntie has never had any patience with the follies— | _ Mr. 8. (Kissing her.) Do you call this folly? I don’t. } It is ecstatic bliss. K M. It doesn’t just seem like folly to me, Mr. Smith, but _ perhaps I am so young I don’t know. Auntie calls me a fool- Ash child, _ Mr. 8S. And I call you the sweetest and most sensibie _ young lady in the world. M. This is the first time anybody has loved me since papa and mamma died. Auntie has kept all company away from Me, and she never loved me herself. She just let me live and ‘eat at her expense, because she didn’t want it said that one of her kin was in the poor-house. Mr. §, Dear little girl, your life has been hard, but I will t THE DIME DIALOGUES, endeavor to make up for the past. You will be my own sweet wife, and in a home of our own we shall live to make ourselves and others happy. ; (Enter Mrs. STEVENS unperceived. ) M. If auntie would only give her consent— Mrs. 8. So this is the manner in which you take advan- tage of my absence, a (MILLIE screams and jumps from her seat. Mr. Suir 9 quietly stands beside her.) : Mrs. 8. For shame, sir! How dare you enter my house # and insult my niece in so shocking a manner? ; a Mr. 8. Mrs. Stevens, I have merely offered your niece | the greatest honor a man can offer the woman he loves, and I ask the same from her. You are well enough acquainted with me to know that I shall treat her kindly and support her in comfort. Need I tell you that we iove each other? Mrs. 8. Tush, man! I have no patience with the follies of youth. Had Ishunned them in my young days my life would have been more useful and happy. Mr. 8. (Zaking Mruutn’s hand.) But we wish to test them for ourselves, Mrs, Stevens, All we are waiting for is your consent. Mrs. 8. And that, sir, I shall never give, Leave my § house and do not enter it again, You are the only man I ever trusted in the same room with my niece, and you have de- — ceived me, Mildred, have no further communication with this ingrate. (Heit Mr. Smrru, after whispering slyly to Miu.) Mrs. 8. And now, miss, get to your knitting and do not waste time in whimpering. I shall take care that uo other 7 man comes into this house to disturb your equanimity. Do nob % forget that I have no patience with the follies of youth, and try to show me some return for all I have done for you sincé you were a child of three. Remember, I shall expect that: work finished before you retire to-night. (Hzit Mrs. 8.) M. How can auntie be so cruel? I see now that I do lov Mr, Smith very dearly. He always seemed to bring a ray of sunshine when he appeared. Will he never come again? He whispered that he would not give me up, but how can he help it? Auntie will not let me see him. I know what I'l) do, He asked me to bring about a meeting in some way, s0 Ill write andarrange to meet him by the post-office when I g0 to the store to-morrow night. We'll see then what can be done. Howhappy I could be with a person who really loves me! (Gets paper, pen and ink and begins to write.) Let me | see—what’s his first name? Isn’t it strange I don’t know it! I don’t think I ever heard it. Auntie has always been so particular to call him Mr. Smith, Well, Mr, Smith it shall be. 25 TOO MANY SMITHS, I think he'll get it allright if I send it to our post-office. But "am I acting very deccitfully in doing this without auntie’s “Knowledge? Has she any right to deprive me of my only hance of happiness? If she had loved me—if she had ever -} been like a mother to me in any single way besides that of giv- ® ing mea home, I should scorn to deceive her. But, she bas ‘® been harsh and cruel ever since she took me. Besides, she calls me a child, and I am past eighteen, I shall take the “Matter in my own hands and send this letter. (Reading -) '**Moet me by the post-office to morrow evening. M.” There, that will be sufficient. Now I must find a little boy to post ef it. (Looks out of the window, calls a boy and hands him letter.) I | Be very careful, dear, to post it all right, and here’s a dime d | for you. i; (Enter Mrs, STEVENS.) Mrs. § What are you doing there, you pert miss? Look- ' ing at the young men, 1 suvpose. Take your work and go to ‘your room, and do not leave it again until I send for you. [| Shall probably keep you there all day to-morrow until even- ' ing, and would not even let you out then, only I shall be too _bugy to do the storing myself, ; .* (Going toward the door.) (Aside.) Iam so thankful for at. : (Curtain.) ACT SII, tf y | ScENE.—ZJn the village, near the post-office. Persons passing in r f se Pp g tb and out of the office with mail in their hands. Mr, LEANDER | Smiru appears holding a letter, and walks quickly down the street, Mr. Jonn Smiru. (Coming cut newt.) Say, Smith, come back here. -) Mr. Leanper Smita. (Looks back and slowly retraces his @ steps.) Well, what is it, sir? : F Mr. Joun 8. That letter you nave there, sir, belongs > tome. — Mr.L.8. Proveit. It is not addressed John Smith. — Mr. JonnS. And, as far as J can understand; it is not ce Be dressed Leander Smith either. I saw it advertised for Mr. _ Smith. ~ Mr... 8. So did I, and as I expected a letter about this } time, I knew this must be for me. ; Mr. Joun 8. You take a great deal of liberty with another _ person’s property. : | Mr. L. 8. You’re only longing for an opportunity to do _ that very thing. THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mr. Grorce Suir. (Coming out of the post-office.) May Task if either of you gentlemen took a letter addressed to Mr. Smith? - Mr, LS. You may. I have the letter here. (Shows it.) “9 Mr G.S8. AsThave every reason to believe it belongs 0% me, would you mind banding it over? / Mr. L. S. As Ihave every reason to believe it belongs to me, | certainly shall not hand it over. + Mr. Jonn $. Gentlemen, I l:ve no time for trifling. Lam 7 positive that the ietter in question was written tome, Tam 7 in a hurry to be off — Will you give me that letter? Mr. G. S. Ha! Cool as a cucumber! ia Mr. Parrick Smirn. (Leaving the post office.) Faith, and ¥ has ony wan seen 4 spalpane named Simith? ' Mr. L, 8. I presume Iam the gentleman, sir. t Mr. Par. §. Thin wad yez moind handin’ over the letthet addressed to Mr. Smith? I’min a dale of a hurry to parusé the contints. Mr. L. 8. Sir, the letter in my hand belongs to me. . Mr. Pat. §. Nivera bit, sir! I’ll have the law on yez. Mr. Jeromm Smrru. (Leaving the post office, and looking anziously around.) Gentlemen, have any of you claimed @ letter addressed to Mr. Smith? Mr. Pat. §. Sure, the crowd is swellin’. Indade, and we're all on the p'int of h’istin’ up our claim. Mr. Jer. 8S. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m yery much in need of that letter, Mr. Par. 8. Faix, and we all same to be in a similar nade. F Mr. Putrre Suira. (Coming out of the post office,) Gen- 7 tlemen, there was a letter advertised’ for Mr, Smith, and, knowing myself to be the person for whom it was intended, T hastened here, only to find that some other Mr. Smith had ] claimed it. Ihear that be has just left the post-office, Can any of you tell me in which direction he went? } Mr. Par. §. He didn’t wint, at all at all. Here's foive of him madder’n blazes about that same letther. (Zhe others | laugh.) E Mr. Puiu. 8. Thena member of this party has it? Who- }- ever it may be, will he kindly give it up to me? My peace | of mind depends upon seeing it, F Mr. Par. 8S. But has yez no ragard for the pace of moind of us other gintlemen? 1 Mr. Puiu. §. I feel—I know it belongs to me, Mr. Jonn 8. Jam confident it belongs to me. . Mr. Geo. 8. Jam just as positive that it was written to F me. . Mr. L. §.; And] could swear that it was written in an-) swer to a letter of mine. Mr. Jur. 8. Is it necessary for me to again repeat that 1 know the letter bezongs to me? TOO MANY SMITHS, Mr. Pat. 8. Not to spake of me ouwn alfred david in the - Matter. | Mr. HezexianSmirn, (Lmerging from post-office.) Excuse ' me, but can any of you gentlemen give me information in re- gard to a certain Mr. Smith who left the post-office a few mo- } ments ago? He took in mistake a letter addressed to Mr. | Smith, and which I am positive belongs to me. You see the ' letter was advertised in this morning’s paper, and— ; (Mini STEVENS enters at back, walks up and down, looking — Ground on the ground, as if in search of something, then exit.) ® Mr. Par. 8. Arrah! the plot sames to thicken. The top } Of the avenin’ to you, sir, and yer'll foind the idintical gintie- } man in this crowd. Mr. L. 8. It grows embarrassing, 1 think. Sir, it was I ' who took the letter and’1 claim it as mine. I must confess, I } wrote a proposal of marriage toa very dear girl, and I have | €very reason to believe that this is the enswer, e, Mr. Jonn 8. Then why didn’t she write your first name, too? - Mr. L.8. The proposal has probably caused her a little | trepidation, and in the confusion of replying she has omitted toy Christian name. _- Mr. Jonn S. My mother was to write to me about this ' time. Some days she is a trifle absent-minded, and probably - was when she addressed that letter. My mother adores me, Sir, and I demand what she has written. ' Mr. Geo, 8. Gentlemen, between ourselves, you know, I » am a married man, and occasionally indulge in a little flirting With the young and fair. I believe that one of my girls has Written to me, and I am anxious to get. the letter and destroy it before it falls into my wife’s hands. | Mr. Par. SS. And 1 was ixpictin’ a shmall bit of money from Moike O'Calligun that has been owin’ to me this minny me, I belave that Moike’s tinder conscience has struck him at last. | Mr. Jer. 8. I was to receive an invitation to a. wedding to-night, and it just make’ my mouth water when I think of ' the supper of which Iam to partake. Yes, that must be my / Invitation. +. Mx. Porm §S. And my business ‘manager in New York y} bromised faithfully to write tome. I-cannot think that he | Would forget. : | Mr. H.8. As some of you know, Iam a minister without 'Acharge. I believe that Ictter is a call that I was expecting, » 8nd you can imagine how anxious I am to read it. (Enter Mx. Smavu, Mavizr’s lover, at back.) , Mx, Pav, 8. The saints presarve us! Here’s another wan. Bay, Misther Smith, wad yy be afiher comin’ this way? THE DIME DIALOGUES, Mr. Surry. (Approaching.) Good-evening! 4 Mr. Par. 8. Inthe name of all that’s tirrible, be ye ixpict=) in’ a letther? e Mr. 8. (Looking surprised.) No. (All the others cordially, shake hands with him, He is more surprised.) , Mr. L. 8. You sce, sir, I took from the post-office a lettel addressed to Mr, Smith, that being my name. The letter was advertised, and these gentlemen, also being named Smith) come forward and claim it. Now I think, as you do not lay any claim to it. that we can leave you to decide what is to done. a Mr. 8. Why, my dear fellows, open and read it. Thab will prove who wrote it. 4 Mr, Par. 8. That’s a sinsible head on thim shoulders. Mr. L. 8. (Reluctantly teartag open the letter and reading” the others anatously listening :) ‘‘Meet me by the post-office to morrow evening.—M.” There! It’s from Miranda, deat girl! She means to come here to-night and give me her aD} swer. j Mr. Joun S. Is that all it says? Then it’s from the} mother who adores me. She has some secret to communl” cate. j Mr. Gro. 8. I fear it is from Maud, with whom I flirted at the last ball. 3 Mr. Par. 8. Sure’n it’s from Moike, and he manes to fitch B the moncy here the noight. Mr. Jer. S. On the contrary, it’s from Miller about that) invitation. 4 Mr. Puiu. 8. My business manager’s name is Manleye He has written to let me know that he would be here to com municate important news that he could not trust to writing. | Mr. H. 8. Gentlemen, I dislike totell you that you are @ mistaken, but really as 1 glance at that envelope in my friend’® hand, I recognize the chirograpby of Mr. Mandel, one of thé elders of the church to which | expect to be called. (Znter Mrs. Geo. Smrrit.) Mrs. Gro. 8. Oh, George Smith, you mean thing! Why are you standing around here? Did you get that letter that was advertised for you? : a Mr. Gxo. 8. There has been no letter advertised for mé@ | dear. It was for this Mr. Smith. See, he has it, and all these gentlemen want to claim it. Isn’t it ludicrous? Mrs. G.S. Iamsoglad! Iwas afraid it was for you from some flirt of a girl. Mr. G.S. Why, my dear Amelia! why should a flirt of # girl write tome? You wrong me cruelly. 4 (inter Minium at back, again looking on the ground, as if Mm search of something. She walks toward the group, wiping) her eyes.) . TOO MANY SMITHS. 29 ' M. Gentlemen, have any of you found a sum of money tying around here? _Mr. 8S. (Going forward and taking her hand.) Why, illie, dear, what is the matter? M. Ob, you are here? 1am so glad! Auntie has been so nkind! I lost some money of hers here, a while ago, and She sent me out, and says I must not return without it. Did You get my letter? ' Mr. Pat. S. A letther for him, afther all! M. Yes. (Zo Mr. L. Smira.) Oh! excuse me, sir, but iow came you by that letter? It is one I wrote to this gen- leman. - Mr. 8. To me, dear? M. Yes; you see, it was funny, but I didn’t know your first name, Mr. S. You'll soon be quite familiar with it. Mr L. 8. (Having given her the letter.) I sincerely beg Your pardon, I thought it was for me. How easy it is to be ‘Nhistaken. (The other contestants sorrowfully shake their heads, and turn 0.) Mr. S. Don’t be in a hurry, gentlemen. I may have the ensure of invitang you all toa wedding on the spot. Millie, darling, suppose you do not go back again to that cruel aunt. (ne of these gentlemen is a minister, and he can in a few Minutes make you my wife. Then we will start at once to My mother’s in New York. M. Right here, do you mean—and in these clothes? How Could I? ' Mrs. G. S. No, not*here, but around he corner, in my Parlor. It will be so charmingly romantic, and I have some delicious cake that I made myself. Come; all are invited. - Mr. 8. Yes, and we must make haste, or auvtie may pear with her lack of sympathy for the follies of youth. Madam, I thank you; we gladly accept your hospitality. Mr. Smith, this young lady has no parents, is past eighteen, and We may say has been turned out of doors by the only relation “She knows If you will come around the corner and marry - Us without delay, you will not be sorry that you came out _ this evening. ' Mr Par. S. Sure, and if there had been no letther in the Post-office for Misther Smith, what moight we not have ' Missed. this blissed noight! (All exit.) 3 ( Curtain.) THE DIME DIALOGUES. THE THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES; A PATRIOTIC NATIONAL PLAY. FOR FOURTEEN GIRLS. DIRECTIONS FOR DRESSING, (The tallest of the fourteen girls should represent the Goddess of Liberty, and the next tallest. Virginia, and so on down to the smallest, who represents Rhode Island. The flag used by the author was the old American flag with thirteen stars and stripes, about one-and-a-half by two feet, with a staff five or six feet long; and was carvied by Virginia through the first march, which is described further on. Ths girls wer? dressed in white; the brunettes wore red sashes and crowns, and thé blondes wore blue sash¢s and crowns. The crowns were made of paste- © board, and covered with calico. The initial lettzrs of the States were : pasted on the respective crowns. The sashes were worn over the | shoulders, and had white stars pasted or sewed on them, The Goddess wore a crown with golden stars on it. More appropriate costumes may be suggested or adopted, THE MARCH. The girls come on the stage insingle file, with the Goddess of Liberty _ at the head, Virginia next, and Rhode Island, which is represented by the smallest girl, last. After marching around the stage twics, in single ~ file, they form into double file by Virginia stepping up to the left side of the Goddess, and so on, each even number stepping to the left side of the odd number. 1 They march around twice in double file; they then march across the center of the stage from one end to the other, and separate at the end, odd numbers turning to the right, even niimbers turning to the left, and march back to the other end; there, joining their partners, they march ~ across the center as before, repeating that maneuver, After marching across the center the third time, the odd numbers turn to the left and the even numbers to the right, And march around to the other end of the stage, and join their partners as before. Going through with that figure twice, they march around the stage once more in double file; then form into single file by the even numbers stepping back behind the odd num- bers; they then march around the s'age once in single file and form into a crescent shape, with the Goddess at one end and Rhode Island at the other: each, i, e., the Goddess and Rhode Island, as near the edge as con- venient, and facing each other, The center of the crescent is of course near the rear of the stage, In this position they sing the ‘‘ Song vf the Goddess.’’ After the song, Virginia takes the flag which she has car- ried through the march, walks to the front of the stage, salutes the God- dess, and recites her verses, She then resumes her place, and gives the THE THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES, : flag to the one next to her, who also goes to the front of the stage, salutes the Goddess, repeats ner speech, returns to her place and hands the flag » to the next one, andso on until each one has repeated her verses, Rhode Island being the last, and returning tae flag to Virginia, who then goes | 8gain to the front and after a short pres ntativn speech, presents the F flag to the Goddess, who replies—reciting R dman Drake’s “ American : Flag *—which will be found in our Dime SpzaKeEa, No, 18. ; Thy thea march as at the beginning, with thy Goddess carrying the : flag, If convenient, they should march off the stage wi h curtain up. It ' &nhances the effect very much if they keep timo with the music in rhe } March, and keep at regular intervals from each other.] SONG OF THE GODDESS. (Air: “Bonnie Biue Flag.”) (1.,) Once there sailed from Palos, Spain, A mariner known to fame, His heart was kind, his spirit bold— Columbus was his name. Cuorus. (Sung by all.) Hurrah! hurrah! for Columbus and his crew, Hurrah! for America, the home of me and you. He manned his boats with sailors brave, And set sail for the West, In unknown seas they drifted long— And history tells the rest. SPEECHES OF THE STATES. VIRGINIA, (1.) Virginia first of all the band Gave a home to the brave and true, Who dared to leave their native land And cross the ocean blue. Captain Smith and others brave Came to her extended arms, And fought and bled and died to save Fair Liberty’s dearest charms, New Yorx, Henry Hudson was the first to sail Along the shores of the Empire State, A noble river tells the tale— And a dreary bay knows his fate, The Holland Dutch from Amsterdam To the country laid a claim, THE DIME DIALOGUES. Because all Hudson's ships were manned And sailed in Holland’s name, Trading posts then they built, And though induced by love of gain, The state, New York, has since become The strongest link in Liberty’s chain, MAssACHUSETTS, The May Flower with her crew To the coast of Massachusetts came— _ The Pilgrims by persecution driven, Crossed the deep, rough ocean’s main. Mid winter’s storms with hope forlorn, Disease and death on every side, The faithful few still labored on— Liberty or death they cried. PENNSYLVANIA, From no royal province Did Pennsylvania descend, But was peacefully colonized By William Penn. With love for our fellows, ‘With Justice for our guide, ‘We welcomed sweet Liberty, With us to abide. CoNNECTICUT, Emigrants from Boston to Connecticut went, And under the pious Hooker formed a settlemen Make way for Liberty was their cry, Make way for Liverty or we die, . New HampsuHire, Ferdinando Gorges and John Mason, With a patent from the English (ing, In New Hampshire laid a foundation From which a branch of Liberty did spring. DELAWARE. Delaware was settled by Dutch, English and Swede, Though they quarreled among themselves, For Liberty they did intercede. New Jersey, Gracious Goddess, New Jersey, too, loves thee, ; And joined the other states to fight for. Liberty. Freedom’s banner she holds aloft, ay ee watch word shouted oft, THE THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES. MARYLAND, (9.) The Catholics, under Lord Baltimore, Were the first to settle on Maryland’s shore; On the pleasant banks of Chesapeake Bay Religious freedom found its way, And banished from their presence, then, Persecution’s terrible reign. Liberty’s banner was there unfurled, And bid defiance to the creeds of tyrants Throughout the world. Soutn CAROLINA, The persecuted Huguenots To South Carolina came, Liberty was the gem they sought, More precious than wealth or fame, Nortu Carouina. North Carolina is the name Of one of that glorious band, Who fought the battles of Liberty And achieved a victory grand, GEORGIA, The benevolent Oglethorpe Came to Georgia’s sunny shore, Actuated by the hope Of finding a home for the poor. The poor, who were for debt to be In England’s wretched prisons flung, On Georgia’s hiils found Liberty, And the songs of Freedom sung. RaHopE ISLAND. Rhode Island is the smallest one Of this bright sisterhood, But on her soil a tree was set That many a storm has withstood. Its branches now have widely spread O’er America’s happy land— Religious Liberty it is said In my own bosom first began, = THE DIME DIALOGUES, oe ‘ PRESENTATION SPEECH OF VIRGINIA. Gracious Goddess, with your permission, and in the name of the thirteen sisters, I now place in your keeping the flag o our country, the emblem of truth, justice, and liberty, We pray thee to accept our banner, and lead us on to more glorious victories for human liberty, and abide with us and preside in our midst forever. 3 2 : (1 he Goppgss then takes the flag and says :) : ‘Pll take thy banner, and long shall it wave o’er the land | of the free and home ofsthe brave.” (She then recites ‘‘ Drake's \_ American Flag,” addressing herself to the flag which she holds in _ her hand.) : THE AMERICAN FLAG. (Drake) (I.) ‘When Freedom from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to theair, ° She tore the azure robe of night, _ And set the stars of glory there; She iningled with its ->rgeous dyes _ The milky baldric of tue skies, And striped its pure celestial white ‘With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. / (IL) Majestic monarch of the cloud, — Who rear’st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest’s trumpings loud To see the lightning’s lances driven, ‘When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, Child of the sun! to thee ’tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur-smoke, _ To ward away the battle stroke, _ And bid its blendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory! i “fz {4h THIRTEEN ORIGINAL STATES, (ui1.) Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph, high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on; Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier eye shal brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn, . And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance , And when the cannon-mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, And gory sabers rise and fall Like shoots of flame on midnight’s pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below “That lovely messenger of death. (IV.) Flag of the seas! on ocean wave : Thy stars shall glitter o’er the brave; _ When Death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside’s reeling rack, ‘Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o’er his closing eye. (v.) Flag of the free heart’s hope and home, By angel hands to valor given, Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet saa Where breathes the foe but falls before us! With Freedom’s soil beneath our feet, And Freedom’s bannerstreaming o’er us! THE DIME DIALOGUES, ‘THE AGENT AND HIS VICTIM. AN EVERY-DAY DUET. Sczunu.— Business office. Brown very busy, when insurance agent slips in like a shadow, and stands by table before BRowN knows he is there. Good-day, Brown, it’s nice weather out, Indeed, I’m too busy to see. I’m soliciting now for the ‘‘ Life.” Well, that doesn’t matter to me, It’s the very best company out, Vl never get in it, that’s more. But surely you ought to insure. i ‘What's your rates to keep off a bore? Life is exceedingly short. _ Then I pray you don’t talk quite so long, Death will come up soon or late. If you hurry it up it is wrong. Our plan is eniirely new. I’ve heard that before and it’s old. explain you the whole thing at once. Well, I guess I don’t want to be told, About what's your age, Mr. Brown? T’ve not passed the period of sense. The cost [am going to show. Td rather you'd -be going hence, ~ What disease did your father die of? An attack of insurance galoots. Have you any perceptive complaint? Yes, the jerks, and it gets in my boots. POPH> DP > dp tp Now. pray, Mr. B } give me leaye— That you could have taken before. I'd be pleased to show you our terms, I'd be pleased to show you my door. - Won't you take out a policy now? No, but I'll take out an agent right soon, Of course you were never insane. | Well, I’m getting as mad as a loon. | You have a good deal of health. And you have a good deal of cheek. I’m sure you would be a safe risk. You're risking yourself, so to speak. Td want to leave something behind. You'll leave your coat-tails by and by. Your breath any moment may cease. You carry anawfulsupply. — - 8. A. Senet A. B. A B. A, B. - A. B. th AG 4 A. PB A. B. B A, BS ee. B, pep : PLAYING THE RACKS, — Our losses are paid promptly up. Well, your time is now going to loss, I wish you’d go into this board. I wish youd go out of this house. We agents are not to be bluffed, I see it’s your business to stick. T'll bore you to death every day. Well, write me a policy guick/ © In ten minutes you shall haye it! — (Krit.) In ten minutes’ time—ha, ha! I will exit! (Beit, in a hurry.) en ee PLAYING THE RACES; OR, AU Se Ao NY a OPA Oa LN, Characters:—Grorce Kine and Frank Wurrn, school-fel- lows; Mr. Waite, Franx’s father, two or three other voys, Scene I.—(Hnter Grorce and FrRanx from opposite sides, Frank has pencil and paper in hand, and is anxiously cone sulting the paper from time to time.) : Groren. Hello, Frank! What makes you look so down- ast? What are all those figures for? Has Prof. been giving you an extra? ; ; d _. Frank. No; I only wish he had. hat would be nothing in comparison to this, , G. Then it must be serious indecd! What in the world’s he matter? Can I help you? ; ‘ : Nobody can help me. I’ve gat into trouble and I’ve got to gct out. Idon't know what lam going to do. My braiu is allin a whirl, I can’t make these accounts come out traight, and I'm in a regular pickle. j G. What are you doing with accounts? Tell me about it. They say two heads are better than one, and perhaps together — We can do something. Atany rate, l’m willing to try. F. (Hesitating.) Well—you see—the truth is—Ob, I can’t ell you, George. nak seh" ae getting into trouble? Ye ; . 5 G. It you’y2 been doing anything you're ashamed of, you'd better own up than to hide it. Let's see. (Zakes paper out of = THE DIME DIALOGUES. FRANK'S hand. Readsin a puzeledmanner.) Dexter, five dol- lars—Diamond, ten—balanced by six on Richard ILI.—what under the sun! This is all Greek to me. I. Why, don’t you know? Dexter and Diamond are Mr. Brown’s two two-year-olds that ran the other day. Hvery- body said they were sure to win. G. (Giving a low whistle,) Oh, oh! I see! So you’ve been betting on the races, have you? I must say I am surprised, F. Not regular betting, you know. Just a friendly wager or two, but 1 went in deeper than I meant to, and the colts were beaten, though every one said they were dead sure to win. G. It seems that every one didn’t know everything that time. What were you doing at the races, anyhow? I thought you said your father had forbidden you to go near the track. F. He did, and I didn’t intend to. But I made a wager with one of the boys, and we were discussing the horses, when I found myself near the grounds without knowing it, and then I thought P’d look in just for one minute to see how things were going. I got so excited I couldn’t go away. I’ve often lost trifling suras before, but I always won about as muchas [ lost, and so kept the balance even, G. Disobedience, deception and gambling. Three pretty grave faults, Frank. i don’t wonder you're in trouble. F, Oh, come off, now, George! Don't preach! I told you I didn’t mean to go on the grounds, and I haven’t been gam- bling. G. What do you call it, then? F, Just a wager or two on one’s favorite horse isn’t gam- bling. : G. Imust confess I don’t sce the difference. The princi- ple is the same, and these small beginnings are the surest road to greater wrong-doing. Now that you are 7n trouble, how- ever, there must be found seme way out. Why don’t you tell your father all about it, and ask him to advance your allow- ance, then go to work and earn something to repay him? F. ‘ell my father? That’s the last thing I could do! You don’t know him, or you wouldn’t make such a proposi- tion. I've already spent this month’s allowance, and it won't be time for the next for two weeks yet. G. IJ have ten dollars, if that will help you. , FI. Thanks. You're awfully good, old fellow, and I shan’t forget it, but ’min debt to Jim Monroe twenty-five dollars, and he says he can't wait a day for his money. G. Jim Monroe?- That fellow? F, There’s nothing the matter with Jim. He may look a bit rough, but he knows all about horses, and is always ready to give a fellow a tip. Anyhow, I didn't lose the money to, PLAYING THE RACES, him; 1 lost it to one of the boys who turned me over to him, as he owed him the same amount. G. Well, I hope you're proud of your friends. Isaw Jim Monroe come out of a saloon this morning, rather the worse fer liquor, Was it he who gave you the tips for this last race? F. Iheard him say something about it. G. Ithought as much! I hope you'll leave him and his associates alone, after this. guess ll know a thing or two hereafter. I don’t see what I'm to do now, unless I go back to the track this after- noon and retrieve my luck. GQ. (Putting his hand on FRAxK’s arm.) Now: Frank, I mt of you not to do that. Stop where you are, t pha It’s the only way. I’m desperate. I could = make up twenty-five dollars out of my allowance, and 1x dare not appeal to my father. : G. You will only make a bad matter worse, This will lead to other and deeper follies. You have already deceived a kind and loving father, have contracted debts you never had the means to pay, and have lowered immeasurably your social and moral standing. _The next thing will be the pool-room, then the saloon. You say you fear your father’s displeasure. Believe me, Frank, you might far, far better meet that merit- ed disapproval, now, than to wait until! you have disgraced yourself and dishonored his honored name, : F. Ob, come now, George; it isn’t as bad as all that comes : You are going it too strong. Say what you will, it’s the only hope I have of redeeming my credit. 1 shall surely be | _ more fortunate this time. I can’t help but win. I must go, - To- ashy you will see. I must be off. (Heit. ; (Shaking his head.) ‘The old, old story. I tremble for Peak? 3 future, if he goes on at this rate. I think L’ll follow him to see if I can’t do something to restrain him, I'll keep my eye on him, (follows FRANK.) (Curtain falls.) Scene II. pees: Boys at one side, not noticing Mr. Wurrn, who enters from the other. All talking excitedly. ) ter Boy. tell you I was there and saw it myself— 2p Boy. They had an awful row— 3p Boy. Gracious! Won't there be a scene when it comes . to his father’s ears! ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES, Mr. Waite. (Advancing.) You seem to be iv a state of excitement, boys. What’sthe matter? Have youseen Frank? TI came down to get him to go fora drive with me. (Boys ea- change glances and draw back.) Why don’t you answer? Is anything wrong? Where’s Frank? (Looks around.) ist Boy. I can’t tell you, sir. Mr. W. When did you last see him? Tell me, 2p Boy. (Reluctuntly.) About an hour ago. Mr. W. Where was he then? 3p Boy. At the grounds. Mr. W. What grounds? 8p Boy. He means the race-track, sir. - Mr. W. Frank at the race-track? Impossible! isr Boy. I am sorry to tell you, sir, that he was there, and got into trouble. Mr. W. I cannot understand it. What was the trouble? ist Boy. I believe he had been losing money, and got so excited he didn’t know what he eas doing. 8p Boy. He accused another fellow of cheating him, and finally they came to blows. A policeman interfered, arrested them both, and marched them off to the station house. Mr. W. Arrested? My boy arrested? Oh, this is awful! (Covers his face with las hands and groans.) But I must find him. Ican’t lethim be locked up. Imustsavehim. (Zurns to leave as GworGE enters with FRANK. FRANK’S arm ts in a sling, and he 1s leaning on GEORGE.) F. Oh, George, there’s father! Let me go! I cannot meet him now. Oh, my arm! Be careful, George! G. Ishall not let you go until you have seen your father, Mr, White! (Mr. Wurre turns sharply around.) One mo- ment, please, sir. Your.son wishes to speak to you. (One by one the other toys slip out.) F. Father! You know—you have heard—were the boys telling you? Mr..W. Yes, my son! F. Then you never-can forgive me, father, I know it. I pene forgive myself. Let me go away, in my dishonor and shame! Mr. W. That I am shocked and deeply grieved I must confess. (FRANK turns away his head.) But that you have sinned beyond forgiveness, t can scarcely believe, Frank. Supposing you tell me the whole story and let me be the judge. Who is this with you? F. It ‘is my friend, George King. You have heard me speak of him. He has been a good friend to me, and if I had but heeded his advice, I suould never have been in this trou- hle. I should have been in the station-house now, had it not been for his interference. You can never thank him enough for me, father. (Mr. W. holds out his hand to Guoren, who A VISIT T0 THE MOON. 44 akes it.) But, oh! my arm pains me so I can scarcely stand it. Itis badly sprained. Oh, this has been a lesson to me. Mr. W. It has been a lesson sorely needed, my son, and it came just at the right time. If it prove the means of stop- — ping you right where you are, it will not be too severe. If you had not received this check, you might have gone on, by insensible degrees, from bad to worse, hardly realizing your progress, one misdemeanor leading to another, disobedience to deceit, until there would huve been no drawing back. The ‘next time you are in trouble, my dear boy, remember that your fatier is your truest friend, and never be afraid to trust him. But your arm must be attended to at once (FRANK totters and would fall, but that GworcE catches him as his fa- ther springs forward.) Z é G. Heis fainting. — : Mr. W. George, if you will help me, we will get him home. This bas been indeed a sad lesson, but it may be one fruitful for good, G. Yes, sir, it will. A broken armis bad, but it can be made well again; but a dishonored name no skill can repair. Mr W. Nobly said, my boy! If all youths had such a correct understanding as you have of the dangerous character _ Of the first steps in evil, there would be vastly fewer disgraced - Dames and dishonored characters. \ (Curtain falls as they exit.) A VISIT TO THE MOON. FOR TWO LITTLE GIRLS, Dororuy. They say the moon is made of green cheese But I never believed it quite, And now I know it isn’t for sure Cause I went to see last night. Party. How could you go to see the moon _ Away, ’way up in the sky? ‘I don’t believe you could get there, Not even if you could fly! , THE DIME DIALOGUES, Dororaxy. I sat on the back of a butterfly, _ Who sailed along through the air; He carried me up, and up, and up,— I wish that you’d been there! We stopped on a mountain-top to rest, And there a bumbly-bee Brought us honey and bread, the very best I ever expect to see! Then on we went among the stars Till the moon was very near, It shone like fire, a great big ball, Far bigger than it looks here. We couldn’t go nearer, the butterfly said, Lest he scorched his wings so gay;— £* You see, it isn’t green cheese after all, No matter what folks say! Now I'll send you home on a moonbeam bright, For I’ve other work,” he said,— So he put me on and I slid down, down! Right into my room and bed! : ‘Parry. You're a bad, bad girl, Miss Dorothy May __ To tell such stories as these; I won’t ’sociate with you any more No matter how much you may tease, For Mamma says ‘tis a drefful thing To tell what isn’t true, And I mustn’t go with girls I know Can tell such stories as you. j (Turns as if to go.) Dororuy. : Oh, Patty, dear, just listen to me;— Though a story it may seem, LT really did it ali, honor bright,— But, twas only in a dream! (Curtain.) THE NEW SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL, THE NEW SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL; OR, THE UPROAR IN SHANTYTOWN. | [For one male and five females. Several children in closing scene; but they may be omitt d if desirable} ; Characters: ‘—Mick DooLAHAN, Mrs. ees Mrs, Moe - GonicLE, Mrs. LANIGcAN, “Mrs. LAFFERTY, "Mrs, SUL- LIVAN. » P ] ee SCENE L —Mrs. McGoniein, huddled over an old stove, with a blanket over her knees. | (Bnter Mrs. LAFFERTY.) Mrs. LArFerty, An’ how are yez this day, Misthress Me- < Gonigle? — ; Mrs, McGonraux. Oh, it’s that bod Oi am Oi scursely = know mesilf, or anybody else. ) Mrs. Larrerty. It’s bod weather it is fer the rheumatiz, -} shure. Oi don’t wonder yez is no betther. Mrs. McGontern. Betther? (@roans.) Teno petther O'll iver be. Oi wus telling Tim this marnin’ he'll sure hev to luk fer anither. (Sniffles.) er : Mrs. Larrerty. There , there, now! ’Tis none so bod ag thot. Folks don’t die o’ rheumatiz. Yez’ll be faylin’ all roight ag’in when the warm days do be a comin’. : Mrs. McG. Oi sed when Larry O’Shane wuz carried outas how Oi'd be the nixt, most loike. (Stzd/ sniffling.) : ie Mrs. LAFFERTY. Oh, fie now! Ye’r’ jest faylin’ a bit low” _ this afthernoon, Spheakin’ o’ Larry, Oi saw his widdy airly this marnin’, ez Oi wint to the sthore. She were a-hangin’ over the gate, an’ a-goin’ on wid Micky Doolahan fit to kill. It’s not long she’ll be a widdy; Oi’m thinkin’, an’ poor Larry dead but a three months, Mrs. McG. No, Ois’pose not. Wid her propert an’ all she’d soon git another mon, fer they're all on the loo out for sich widdies. : Mrs. LArrerty. Yis; the cabin’s hers; an’ she’s” ‘two -It’u’d be foine fer the nixt one, that it would! : Mrs McG. But, Oi say, phwat wuz Micky Doolahan doin’ - there ’stead o’ bein’ at wurrk? It’s loike his own wife don’t know he’ etoctn round that — wid the widders. feather bids, an’ several quilts, to say nothin’ 0’ the oe Mrs. 8. Good-by to yez, Misthress McGonigle. We'll cum back ag'in this avenin’ to tell ye how the poor thing is. | (All go out, saying good-day, etc., and supporting Mrs. Dooua- |} HAN.) ; | Mrs. McG. Oi’ve settled Widdy O’Shane's hash fer awhoile. She’ll not be makin’ oyes at Tim, or any other mon, in this part of town very %soon ag’in, or I misses my guess Oh, | these men are desavers, so they be! Oi’! never trust me own Tim out o’ me sight as long as that widdy isin town. Where ishe now, I wonder? (Springs to her feet.) Oh! oh! it’s kilt Oi am! (as the rheumatic pains seize her and curtain falls.) } Scans Il.—Another shanty room. Mick Doonanan dis- covered before a small looking-gluss, struggling with a collar: bution. His best suit on a chair near by, with a flashy tie lying on wt, and an equally brilliant silk handkerchief protrud- ang from a pocket. Several children watching from door of next room. wR Micky. Bad ‘cess to these buttons! Phwere’s thot woman? Ha, Why on airth isn’t she hum instid 0’ gaddin’ round the town? i Ol bet the whole lot o’ them’ 8 down to Mrs. McGonigle’s, a- sgoaetply ‘! Ghe’ll be late, an’ thin Oi'll go widout her, Oi’m not goin’ to lose me fun, There, thot’e fixed! Now fer ma wt dy uk nd = * Sr) Sve pelea a a. AOR 0s THR NEW SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL, Ag chravat. (As he turns to pick it wp, women enter next room, then burst in where Micx ts, scattering children right and left.) Mrs. Larrerty. There, phwat did we tell ye? e’ve — caught him at it! a Mrs, 8. All his bist cloes, too—the desavin’ craythur! Mrs. LANiGAN. Jist in totme, wuzn’t we? Isn’t it for- tunit now we be? Mrs. D. (Flying at him.) Ye villin! Oi’ve caught yel - Ye'll go, will ye, an’ take yer bist cloes, an’ the bewtiful — _chravat Oi wuz afther givin’ ye o’ Christmas! Oh, ye mon- sther! M. Shure, phwat w'u’d ye have me do? Go lukin’ loike a hod-carrier? An’ however did ye know Oi wuz goin’ at all? Ye've sane the Widdy O'Shane? (Women all groan.) Mrs. D. Sane her! Oi'd loike to say her! Oi’d break ivery bone in her body. The hussy! Mrs. 8. An’ Larry only three months did! Oh, fer shame! Mrs. Larrerty. An’ you a married mon, Mick Doolahan, wid sich a good woife an’ childers! (Women rush at him. Mick geis behind a chair and keeps them off with it. Big girl runs up to him erying—< Let my pap alone !”’) , M. By St. Pathrick, phwat’s the matter wid yezall? Be ye crazy, or drunk? Can’t a mon accipt a faver fer his woife | widout all this row? Mrs. 8. Fer his wotfe, indade! ' M. (Savagely.) An’ who'd ye ’spose it wuz fer? The . Prisident’s woife? A. civil way to accipt a prisent or Oi'm a - thafe! : Mrs. D. The prisent? Phwat prisen , Micky? M. Why, the theayter tickets, to be shure; whot else should it be? / x : Mrs. D. _ Phwat tickets? : M. Thin yez don’t know, to be shure, an’ all this divil of a row fer heaven knows phwat. Phwat does it mane, anyway? Explane yersilf, ivry wan ov yez, or Oi’ll not know phwat Oi Won't do! : : Mrs D. (Whimpering.) They tould me as ye wuz goiu’ to rin off wid the Widdy O’Shane to Bostin. : M. Tare an’ agers! An’ ye belaved it,—of yer own Micky? . Mrs. D, (Crying harder.) No, Oi didn’t; only they made “mie. M. The hussies! (Picks up the chair and goes fer them, _ They beat a hasty retreat ; the children run back into the other room.) Git out, ivery wan o’ yez, an’ niver show yersels here ag’in! Now ain’t ye ashamed o’ yersel, a woman 0’ yer age, an’ the mither 0’ a family, to be takin in wid such truck! An’. the Widdy O’Shane a-givin’ av us two theayter tickets only this very marnin’, an’ Oi a-thinkin’ phwat a bewtiful shurprise THE DIME DIALOGUES. Oi had in sthore fer ye! Sez she, ‘‘It’s goin’ away Oiam, fer awhile; a frind gave me these; but it’s no barrt Oi hev fer theayters or ony thin’ else now, but it’ll do Mrs. Doolahan good to go somephwere, sayin’ as she's bin but poorly 0 late; so take the tickets an’ use thim.” An’ there they is, an’ ye can use thim or not as ye loikes; but it’s goin’ Oi be! Aun’ it’s no more than toime yez'll have to be givin’ thé childer their supper an’ gettin’ yer duds on. Mrs. D. Oi’m very sorry, Micky, but it was all av that ould Mrs. McGonigle an’ her rheumatiz. M. There, there! Niver moind! Yez'll have betther sinse in the future. Now hurry yersilf. Mary Ann’ll luk afther the brats. Oi don’t want to Jose ony av the play. Mrs. D. Phwat is it, thin? M. The School for Schandal! (Curtain.) LIME-KILN CLUB LOGIC; OR THE ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM. FOR SEVERAL ‘‘COLORED PERSONS ” Curtain drawn discloses the Lime-Kiln Club in session. Brud- der Gardner in the chair, behind the table. BrorTner Garpner. Dis club am called in special session dis ebenin’ to sit on de case ob two disrespectful membahs whose conduct has brought dis respectful body into disrepu table disrepute, an’, as I has an engagement wid de sistals and brudders ob de Las’ Century Club, who am gwan to cele- prate dis ebenin’ wid a cake walk an’ coon pie openin’, I wants de proceedin’s to proceed, widout de usual flow ob eloquence for which dis club am celebrated. So jus’ come to ordah, Broruer Stuck. I makes a motion, Mistah Chairman, Cat we appoint a committee ob three to convey to de Las’ Cen- tury Club de respecis ob dis yer club. Bro. G. Isn't I gwan to de meetin’ by special invitation ? an’, as de presidin’ ‘oflicah ob dis club, won’t J-represent it dar, say? Brudder Stuck is out ob ordah, so he’ll take his seat! Bro. 8. But, dar’s a motion befo’ de house, sah, an dat mo- t LIME KILN CLUB LOGTO. 49 tion is debatable accordin’ to de rules ob Mistah Reed, de fer distinguished— er Bro. G. You jus’ squat! Dar’s no debate befo’ dis club mn {dis night. I'se gwan to dat cake walk an’ coon pie openin’ ¢; | mighty soon, so doan you go for to corrupt de proceedin’s ye — any mo’, ‘ y Bro. Boston. Mistah Chairman, I moves we do now ad- it fe journ, 7 Re Bro. G. Adjourn? What for you make dat motion, sah, it | when de unfinished business is unfinished? Did we come : here like a passel ob geese to gabble ober a egg dot ain’t laid, tS aie BALY.? : Tr. ae Bro. B. Well, you see, Mistress Boston, my second wife _ datis, she’s got to goto dat Las’ Century Club celebration, . an’ |’s got to stay home wid de picaninnies, an’ she a-waitin’ for me, an’ if I keeps her a-waitin’, you jes’ bet dar’ll be a sick Boston in dis town dis night. Darefor, I moves we ad- =. journ. _ Bro. G. Oh, go along! Wharfo’ you come here at all, tell | medat? You’se excused; you can adjourn yourself. (Hvit | Boston.) Now, gemilen, if Brudder Comealong Jackson _ an’ Brudder Standup Johnson amin de hall to-night, I wish ein to step dis way. : : Se (The brudders named, after considerable hesitation, leave their ) seats and advance to the table. Both are in a dilapidated condition, showing the effects of a recent fight.) “Bro, G. (Hyes them sharply for some moments. Rises from his chair.) Gem’len, dis amasolemn occasion. Ihopes you So understand dat. By-law 3250 ob article 1110 ob de consti- tution ob dis veneered club, plainly reads dat members ob dis club shall not ingage in religus or political argyments or dis- -cushuns. © About every three months for de las’ five y’ars I _ have called speshual attenshun to dat by-law. On three dif- ferent occashuns members hev bin expelled fur breakin’ dat tule. In spite of all dat has bin said an’ dun, however, de two members befo’ me hey bin guilty not only of breakin’ de rule, but of tryin’ to break each other’s heads, Brudder Jack- __ gon, what yo’ got to say fur yo’self? ; ee _ Bro. Jackson. I snid dat Eve had red ha’r, sah. Bro. G. Brudder Johnson, what yo’ got to say? Bro. Jounson. I said she didn’t hey. - Bro. G. An’ dat precipitated a mortal combat? ; Bro. Jounson. Yes, sah, ; Bro. G, Befo’ de mortal combat was precipitated, how- — eber, boaf of yo’ called each other liars, an’ hoss thieves, an’ robbers? : : (Lhe guilty pair bow their heads in acknowledgment.) Bro, G. Brudder Jackson, did you eber see Eve? _ Bro, Jackson, No, sah, neber did, ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES. Bro. G. Did yo’, Brudder Johnson? Bro. Jonnson. No, sah. Bro, G. Kin either one 0’ you pint me to any description given’ de color o’ her ha’r? (They mumblingly acknowledge thetr inability to do so.) Now yo’ jus’ hearken unto me! (Drawing himself up, and emphasizing his speech with extended arm.) Now, yo’ hearken tome! De verdict am dat boaf of yo’ be bounced out o’ dis club fo’ with—right off—wid in a minit—an’ dat under no sar- cumstances will yo’ be restored to membership! I’ze gwine to puta stop to dis sort o’.bizness if I hev to bounce ebery member o’ de Lime-kiln Club an’ run Paradise Hall all alone! De idea of two ole niggers wastin’ deir breaf ober de color ob de ha’r of a woman who libed thousands of y’ars ago? Who knows whether her ha’r was red, black, white or pea-green? Who keers?, How you gwine to find out if yo’ do keer? Bro. J. Please, sah, dar’s extenuatin’ circumstances: Bro. G. Silence, sah! Extenuatin’ circumstances, indeed. Look at you’self! Pretty sight you are! No, sah; nuffin’ yo’ kin say will change my decishun! I want all members of dis club to thoroughly understand de posishun of affairs befo’ we drop dis subjick. Dar wasan Adam an’an Eve. Dey resided in de Ga’den of Eden, Eve tempted Adam, and dey had to move. Dat’s plenty; dat’s all we want to know. We don’t keer two cents how tall dey war, how much dey weighed or what was de size of deir feet. (Pauses and looks around as if for approval.) Dar was a flood, Noah built an ark, an’ floated aroun’ an’ was saved. We choke off right dar. We doun’ keer whether he was married or single—white or black—tall or short. We doan’ keer whether it rained fo’ty days or ouly thirty-nine an’ ahalf. (Pauses again.) Cain killed his brudder Abel wid a club, It’s none o’ our business to ax whether dat club was of oak or hickory— whether de killin’ took place Sunday mornin’ or Wednesday evenin’. We doan’ keer whether it was outdoahs or in de house, (Pauses again.) Dan’l was cast into a den of lions—mebbe six. Mebbe dem lioas was hungry—mebbe not. Dey didn’t want no fuss wid Dan’l. Why dey didn’t am none o’ our bizness. All we keer fur am dat Dau’! got out all right. (Pauses again.) Jonah was swallered by a whale an’ cast up again. Was it a small whale or a big one? Was he black or white? Was he waitin’ dar to swaller Jonah, or did he just happen ’long af de right minit? None o’ our bizness! All we keer fur is dat he was cast out ag’in. Dis am whar I stand, gem’len, an’ whar I shall continer is stand, an’ sich as can’t stand wid me kin take a walk! rudders Jackson an’ Johnson, yo’ kin make yo’selves skass! Git, gwil had gits inte - D spe in ¢ (all one cal mM =e o S SS > & cen a a we OA IS @ ~~ ame Bs hae PAS Tete eee CEN OF MENT Sel ae BREAKING IN THE DOMINIE. — Oot Git out an’ stay out! You can’t come yere no mo’! If, in gwine down de alley together, one of you declares dat Job - had chilblains ’stead of biles, an’ de odder calls him a liar an’ gits up a fight, it won’t be nuffin’ to dis club, an’ nobody will - interfere. (EHxeunt Jackson and Jounson, crestfalien.) Dat’s all, gem’len. Dis bein’ a special meetin’ an’ de g special objec’ having been obercome, dar’s no odder business in ordah, so we’ll jus’ levant. I’se gwone to de cake-walk— (all get up and make a rush for the door)— Well, if dat ain t » onceremonious, But, if dey puts in an appearance at dat . cake-walk—well, dar‘ll be some mo’ dismissals from dis club, — (Lvits, pompousty.) ————44¢——_—— BREAKING IN THE DOMINIE; oR, WHY THE BOYS DIDN'T EAT THEIR FEAST. Scunu I.—School-room. A group of boys sitting or lounginy about, schoolboy fashion, AupEert, Say, fellows, have you seen the new pupil yet? _ Came this morning. Isaw Dr. Brown showing him over the - pbuilding. I'll bet you a dollar he is a perfect Miss Nancy! If heard him saying to old Brown that he had promised his mother to do his best, both in his studies and in keeping the rules. The doctor said—‘‘ That’s right; I like your spirit, and wish more of my boys would say the same thing.” I expect he thinks we are a pretty bad lot. Harry. (Chuckling.) We do lead’ the old gentleman a rather tempestuous life, that’s a fact., What is the new chap’s name, Al?” AuBert. Donald Yorke I believe. He will probably be ‘along soon. Let's receive him in good style. I’m bursting for some {th. Y } Orners, All right! You take the lead. Well have no ~ end of a lark with him. > 4. I'll tell you what: We will invite him to join our feast at midnight to-uight; then, when he puts on his saintly airs and declines, we will guy him to death, Cuarurr, No! Don’t say anything about the feast. He might give us away to the doctor. These goody-goody boys are just the sort to tattle everything. We won’task him, but — he'll le there! Do you catch on? eas x 52 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Oruprs. How can you manage that, Charlie? y g all right. He rooms alone. AS ©: If Arthur will help me, we can get him to Number Ten, Just our OrHers, Good! Skeleton at the banquet We'll have a’ Tub unu sermon, with the trimmings. Ha-ha! AxrtHuR. Mum’s the word, then, Shut up! I hear foot- steps. (Enter Dr. BRown and DonaLD.) Dr. Brown. Boys, here is an addition to our circle. I am happy to introduce you to Mr. Donald Yorke. I trust you will receive him cordially, and make him welcome. Donald, I will now leave you to make the acquaintance of these young gentlemen, and I hope you will soon feel at home with them. You may take the remainder of the day to getting scttled, and begin your studies to-morrow. (Leaves the room.) H. (Advancing and shaking hands with mock gravity.) Happy to meet you, Dominie Yorke, I’m sure, ALBERT. Brother Yorke will now lead in prayer. Ahem! (The others snicker.) C. Will the congregation join in singing No. 54—‘‘I’ve No Mother, Now I’m Weeping”? Axrtuur. Kind of warm weather for muffs, isn’t it? Donatp. (With aw puzeled air.) Really, boys, I fail to catch the drift of your remarks. Is this the manner in which you usually receive new-comers? ALBERT, This isn’t tbe girl’s side of the building. Let me , elo \ his | an conduct you to the west wing, where the Miss Nancys have | their apartments. (Offers his ari.) D. (ndignantly.) Who said l wasa Miss Nancy? What do you knojy about me, anyway? H. The little boy told Dr. Brown that he had promised his | mamma to be a good child, and do his best to keep the rules. Pity she hadn’t come along, too, then you needn’t have been untied from her apron-strings. (Orners grin their approval \ of the speech.) D. Well, it seems to me this is a funny way to greet me. Iam no more of a milksop than you are, and I hope Iam much more of a gentleman. Yes, I certainly did promise my mother [ should try and do what was right. J like fun as much as any of you, but I like to have it in a legitimate man- ner, If thisis what you call fun, I should say it was very poor sport. C, Hear! hear! The Dominie has commenced his sermon! Donaup. Ihave had quite enough of this. If you can’t treat me civilly, I will try to find some fellows who cau. (Turns on his heel and leaves the room.) ArruuR. Whew! He is on his high horse! You won't find him as easy to make game of as you expected, I reckon. BREAKING IN THE DOMiNIE, Apert. Never mind; we'll soon take the airs out of him, Just wait till to-night, in Number Ten. Mr. Yorke shall be— ur guest of honvr. Come on, boys! We must see old ‘Tubbs, the janitor, and tell him to keep quiet, if he hears any — ‘unusual noise up-stairs, to-night. (They leave the room and curtain falls.) een X cenE II. The bedroom of one of the boys. A candle is burne ing on the table, on which ts spread various articles of food . and two or three bottles of beer. Harry and ALBURT are waiting, expectantly, and talking in whispers, A black cloth ts hung over the door to caclude the light. A slight noise is heard outside, and CHARLIE and ARTHUR enter, dragging ty 4 _ in DONALD, who has a handkerchief stuffed in his mouth and “his arms tied behind his back, : i i C. Shut the door, quick, boys! : (One of them shuts it silently, and drops the cloth over tt. CnHaruEe and Artuur escort DonaLuD to a chair, shove him close to the table, and take the gag from his mouth and untie _ his hands.) : _ Arruur. Gentlemen, you must understand that we have an honored guest at our banquet to-night, and treat him as 2. (hey ail bow low.) It is not often that— | DD. (Angrily interrupting him.) What do you mean by ve | treating me in such a shameful manner, and dragging me into an affair like this? If you call it'a joke, £ don’t, and nothing at - coud induce me to touch a morsel of your feast. J shall re- port the whole proceeding to Dr. Brown, in the morning. In E the mean time, I shall get ont of this interesting company as puickly as possible. (Starts to leave the room, but the boys hold am buck.) ~~ H. Not much do you’go until we are through with you! I believe you are the one who never breaks a rule, and one of Our rules is not to tll on one another. You doit, and you will be branded as coward forever afterward here, How would you like that? § Se C. Oh, come, Yorke, don’t be such afool. We don’t want any parson around here, If you want to have any fun at all, and belong to our set, you will drop this nonsense and go in for a good time. As for telling old Brown, I guess you woul. be sorry if you peached on us, so don’t be silly, Come on, boys! (They draw up to the table and commence eating, passing Donan various things, which he does not notice at all.) D. No, I will not take ps any such revel as this. IfI- have to remain, it’s only beeause you are too many for me, | If I dow’é tell the Doctor, it is only because I should hate ta — THE DIME DIALOGUES, see you all in disgrace, though you certainly deserve it. Bu I want you to understand that 1 am to be let alone, after thi You may only call your treatment of me a part of your fw, but Iam very sorry my first day in this school should hay turned out so unhappily. I had looked forward to meetin boys that were doys and not boors, as you have showed you selves to be. I hope you are not a sample of what the whol school is like. (They sit silent and ashamed, for a moment.) Artruur. Well, for my part, I think we have treated th Parson kind of roughly, boys; and now that he has showec the stuff he is made of, and is willing to keep mum about thi affair, I move we let him go in peace, and try to follow bis ex ample a little better after this. I’m ashamed of the whol business. (He turns to DONALD with an apologetic air.) D. YVmsure I've no desire to bear ill-will against any one but you must confess I’ve some cause for complaint. Before you had even met me you called me Miss Nancy, a muff, and like epithets, simply because I said to Dr. Brown that I meant to obey the rules of the school. Such things are rather hard on a fellow when he hasn't had any chance to show whether he is a Miss Nancy or not. Ornmrs. Thatsso! Wished we had done better, our- selves. We've acted like sneaks, and you're right. (A step és heard in the corridor, The boys hastily blow out the candle and sit motionless, The door ts opened and Dr. Brown stands before them, with alight in his hand.) Dr. B. (Sternly.) What does this mean, boys? ‘Are. you aware that this feast of good things you are enjoying here at midnight, may result in your expulsion? (Zurns to DONALD.) And you, too, Donald! [ made up my mind after our con- versation this morning, that you were to be depended upon al- ways. And before twenty-four hours have passed in your new home, I find you here. What have you to say for yourself? (Donaup does not speak, and there ts silence for a moment.) C.~ We are ina mess, for certain. Why don’t you speak up, Yorke, and defend yourself? We may as well own up, Doctor Brown, and tell you it is not Donald's fault he is here. We forced him to come, and have used him roughly from be- ginning toend. There's no use telling you the whole story, but it’s a fact; isn’t it, boys? ‘ Artuur. Yes; and he is a brick not to give us away to you. For my part, ’m disgusted with the whole thing, and think we deserve expulsion or any other punishment you see fit to give us, H. Thatistrue. What fools we are! Why couldn’t we have behaved decently? Dr. B. Excuse me, Donald, for misjudging you. (Shakes hands with him) J am happy to still hold my good opinion of you, As for you, boys, it is at least in your favor that you BREAKING IN THE DOMINIZ, have owned up ycur wrong-doing. But Iam afraid you will have to be sent away, as you set a bad example to the rest of the school, What do you think? D. (Hagerly.) Oh, Doctor Brown, please do not take such severe measures as that. Think of the shame of being ex- yelled! It would affect their whole after life. They did not - sealize how wrong their conduct was, and they will never vepeat it, [am sure, ‘Will you not give them another chance? » Dr. Brown. You see you have a stanch defender, boys. /Not many boys would do as Donald is doing, after being \reated so, For Ais sake I will try you again. Your punish- vent will be limited to extra tasks during recreation hour, for week, And, never again let me hear of any underhanded roceedings. . ©. Thank you, Doctor Brown! I for one mean to keep straight, after this. Orners. AndI! And I! Dr. Brown. Very good. See that no promises are broken. Good-night, young gentlemen! You may finish your inter- rupted repast. For my part, I can’t see the fun in eating all this stuff, at this time of night. I think you will need the service of a doctor in the morning. (Takes up the beer bottles.) You certainly have no need of this trash, (Zosses the bottles from the window, relights the candle and departs.) ALBERT. I tell-you, the old Doctor isa brick! Soare you, Donald, and here is my hand on it. (Shakes hands, and the thers follow his example.) D. Iam glad this matter has been arranged satisfactorily. And now, as Lam ready for bed, I think I will leave you. I im not exactly hungry, you know. (Looks at table and laugis.) Antnur. I don’t think any of us are hungry, now. Let’s pitch the whole mess away! I’m sick at the sight of it, : D. No, no! Keep it until to-morrow and feast Tubbs on ‘it. Te don’t look as if he lived on the fat of the land. | WI. (Laughing.) He don’t deserve it, for he must have given this thing away. But, I’m willing he should be re- warded, for it was the proper thing for him to do, D. Good-night, all! (Leaves the room, followed by a chorus af good-nights and “ Hurrahs for Yorx«x,” and curtain falls.) THE DIME DIALOGUES, WATCHING FOR SANTA CLAUS; OR, ' A NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE, FOR FIVE CHILDREN: THREE GIRLS, TWO BOYS, A table and some chuirs are on the stag Wye s on the table is a frudt dish. Hnter Eruwn (a little girl) carrying a basket containing oranges, elc., which she ts putting into the fruit dish, wher Lucy enters. Lucy. Why, Ethel, what in the world are you doing with that fruit? Erur.. I’m fixing it for Santa Claus, Mamma said IJ might. {guess he must get pretty hungry. L.. Uthink so, too, and it is lovely in you to set out a lunch for him, How did you happen to think of it? £ E. Oh, I don’t know; it just thinked itself. (While the girls are talking, FRANK enters and stands listening.) Frank. Well, your fruit_and stuff will stay there, I guess! i don’t believe there is any Santa Claus, L. ann BE. (Ina shocked tone.) Ob, Frank! F. Well, did you ever see him? L. No; I never saw him because I never stayed up till he came; but you know, Frank, he always comes. Here’s Grace, (Znter Grace with an armful of stockings. ) Have you got my stocking, ‘Grace? Gracn. Yes, yours and mine and Ethel’s and the boys’ and) the baby’s, (Lays them down on a chair.) Now, let’s hang them up. Here’s yours, Guy. (Guy has entered previously with a book which he has been reading. When GRaAcu speaks he looks up and answers in an indifferent tone.) Guy. Oh, you hang it up for me! Grace, Ail right. Say, Guy, y you ought to have nothing but books in your stocking; you’re always reading. Let’s write a note to Santa Claus and pin it on Guy’s stocking, and ask bim to give Guy a lot of books. Grace anp L. Oh, let’s! that will be such fun! — F. (Producing a pencil and a bit of paper from his pocket.) There, Grace; you write it. (Grace writes. In a few minutes it is finished.) Grace, (Reads aloud.) ‘ Dear friend Santa Claus. Please put nothing but books in this stocking, because Guy likes Ss meer) best.” Shall é sign our names an it? . WATCHING FOR SANTA CLAUS, 57 L. Yes, Frank and Grace and Lucy and Ethel. (Grace writes again, pins note to stocking. Then proceeds to hang all the stockings ona line previously put up, across the chimney- place or wall; baby’s stocking last.) Guy. (Looking up from his book) You ought to sing, Hang up the Baby's Stocking,” now. L. §8o we will. (Ad/ sing.) 1 Hang up the baby’s stocking; Be sure you don’t forget! The dear little dimpled darling, She never saw Christmas yet. But, I’ve told her all about it, And she opened her big, blue eyes, I’m sure she understands it, She looked so cunning and wise. L. Grace, Frank says he don’t believe there is any Santa Claus, because he never saw him. Grace. (Speaking to FRANK.) I guess you have forgotten the letter you wrote to him last year, telling him just what you wanted; and you got everything you asked for, even to two jack-knives, though what you wanted of two knives, J couldn’t see. F. Why, when one was lost, I’d have the other, don’t you see? Say, girls, let’s sit up to night, and see if Santa Claus tomes; will you? L. Id like to, but Ethel can’t; she’s too little. Mamma wouldn’t let her sit up. NE. (Yawning.) Vd rather go to bed, anyhow, and I’m going now. Good-night. (Hat Erne... Children seat them pselves, and in a minute Lucy speaks in a loud, scared whisper.) L. Grace, aren’t you afraid? Grace. No, but I’m sleepy. (Yawns.) You can go to )>/bed. Lucy, if you want to. ~ LL (Steepily.). I guessI will. Good-night. (Hut Lucy.) F (Kidgets about, then exclaims :) I wish he’d come, if he’s coaing. Im tired! Grace. Tired already? F. Yes, ‘tired already.” I guess you'd be tired, if you’d done as much as I have, to-day. Grace. Why, what have you done besides going to school? F. I had to get up awful early and go get some roiis for break fast. Grace. H'm! I guess you didn’t have to go before seven o'clock, ; F, Well, don’t you call that early? I do, It seemed as if I'd just gone to bed. Anyway, as soon as.I went to bed [ ‘58 : THE DIMB DIALOGUES. went to sleep, and as soon as I woke up I had to get up. A boy don’t haye much fun sleeping, I tell you. (Yazwns.) Grace. (Yawning.) Well, what else? F. Thad to empty all the ash-pans, and fill all the stoves. Grace. There’s only to stoves in the house, and they’re little ones. You don’t have to take care of the furnace. And after that you only had to go to school. F. Wasn't there a fire? I went to that, after school. Gracn. Yes, but you didn’t have to go; you were late to dinner, too. F. I know it, and late to school, too, and so I had to stay after school, and after school (yawning) I went skating, Grace, (Yuwning.) Frank, I’m so sleepy; I can’t keep my eyes open. I'm going to bed, (Yawns again.) Good- night! (Heit Grace.) F. I knew you'd give up. Girlsalwaysdo. Say, Guy, what would you do if he came? Guy. Idon’t know. (Laying down the book.) I’ve finished my book now, and I’m going to bed. What’ll you do, if he comes, and you here all alone? F, Oh, Tl have some fun with him. Guy. {bet you’ll run. FY. Run? What do you think I am? : Guy. Ithink you’re afraid, that’ swhat Ithink! How long are you going to stay up? F. (Very confidently.) Oh, about two or three hours, I uess. I’m not afraid, either. Grace was a little afraid, and ney. was awfully scared, (Exit Guy ) / ‘(Lakes up Guy's book.) 1 guess Tilread. (Then looks vo him and over his shoulder.) Oh, i don't feel like reading. I wonder what time it is! (Acting more and more nervous and seared.) I wish Vd gone to bed. I'm as tired as can be; but, Guy’ll chaff me aw fully, if I Zo now. (A noise is heard, and Frank, with eyes bulging, springs to his feet. It is heard again, louder, and FRAKK rushes From the stage in frantic haste, over~ turning « chair or two on the way.) - ONE OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE NEW DISPENSATION. FOR TWO MALES AND ONE FEMALE. Seene.—LAWYER’S office. Lawynr seated at table, busy with papers. - (Enter Duxuson, dejectedly and suspiciously. LAWYER pays no attention to his caller, but continues his work. DuKESON Jinally drops into a chair, with a groan, that attracts Law- YER'S attention.) a : Lawyrr, (Looking up.) Well, sir, what can I do for you? Duxrson. That's what I want to know. L. What say? : D. I want to know what you can do for me. L. Are you in trouble? D. Trouble? Ishkould say so! (@roans.) Are you alaw- yer—a smart as you make ’cm lawyer? L. Iam a lawyer and stand well at the bar. : D. Stand well at the dar? Well, then, you ain’t the man for me. I’m temperance, and can have nothing to do with men who patronize the har. It’s a source of untold misery, It ruins our sons and dcebauches the community. It— You misunderstand me, sa. Tam nota liquor-drinker, and do not frequent the taverns or saloons, I said I stocd well at the bar—-meaning, of course, the legal bar, or court, in which all lawyers practice. ~D. Oh, Isee. Then I guess you are the man for my case. L, Well, state your case. Come right to the point. Time is money with me. . as D. Iwantadivorce! (Hreitedly.) L, Just what a good many men and women. want, but what few of them should have. State your case, Upon what _ ground? : : f : — -D. Upon what ground? Why, what’s ground got to do with it? Lown all the ground. She never brought mic én acre, No, not even a lot in the country. ae L. You don’t understand, again. I mean for what cause or assumption do you want.a divorce? Wave you proper rea- sons aud substantial evidence to support your allegation? _ _D. Have 1? You just bet I have! (Mveiiedly.) I—I— (Pauses.) : L : ; ; L. Well, proceed, I must know all, in order to give cor -xect advice, ; 60 ‘TH DIME DIALOGUES, D. Everything? L. Everything! D. Then here goes! (Puts hat on floor, as if desperate.) Five years ago I married a country girl because I thought I’d get a sensible one. Got that down? ote oY OS, Dio Welly things went nicely for two years; then came the rub. ; Tea WES: D. The first thing she did was to go aad buy alot of Bertha M. Clay’s lovesick novels, to find out how society in London was carried on. L. Yes. D. Ididn’t mind that, but after she had nosed around a bit ee es to get her high- falutin’ ideas, Z Rove D. Well, she commenced with makin’ me get two servants, Then she made us have breakfast off the mantelpiece—that is, get up and help yourself. i... ¥es, D. Then she made me belong to three or four clubs, an’ made it hot for me if I came home earlier than one o'clock. Got that? L. Yes. Z ae D. Next, she made the servants call her milady. But she capped the climax by sayin’ one day that she was sufferin’ from enwe, I went to a doctor an’ asked him what the duce that was, an’ he told meit was French for that tired feeling. | That settled it, From then on if was enwe, an’ enter nong, — an’ bullyung, an’ soloong, an’ parley voo, an’—well, then she went in for music. She called Wagner “Vogner, and Lisat “Leest,” an’ ended the whole business by calling me her charmangte. Say, don’t you think you could fix it up right off, before she takes to runnin’ around with Italian singers an’ running for school commissioner? J’m just desperate, Tam, and if something is not done about it, I shall go— (Hnter Mrs. Duxnson. She is dressed in the height of fashion.) Mrs. D. (Looking sharply, first at D. and then at IL.) — Well, why don’t you speak, mon cher? D. W-w-what shall I say? Mrs. D. Why, introduce me, of course! D. Mister—Mister—Lawyer ‘(arising and showing trepida- tion) allow me— Mrs. D. Mr. Lawyer? What a name! “L. (Rising.) I am a lawyer, madame; that is my profes: sion, not my name, ‘Mrs D. And what are you conferring with a lawyer for, oe ares ONE OF THE DAUGHTERS OF THE NEW DISPENSATION, 61 .. W-w-why, we were discussing the latest aspects of the - Home Rule movement, in Ireland, you know. | Mrae DPD. Ah? And what decision did you come to? (Picks up D.'s hat and presents tt to him.) = I—I—don't know. My views, you see, are not quite— quite—no, not quite, you see, in harmony with—with— Mrs. D. Yes, I think I do see—sce them so much clearer than you see them that (puts her arm within D's) it is not necessary for you to tarry here any longer; I can edify you on Home Rule, mon compagnon du voyage ; so let us sail for home. I've a surprise there, for you. D. A surprise? What—what—now? (Jn trepidation.) Has your mother come? : Mrs. D. Oh, you dear old goosie, how could you have guessed it? : ; D. Good heavens! J—I—say, Mister Lawyer— Mrs. D. Never mind, now, hubby; you can say it some other time. (Starts to lead Mr. D. from room.) L. (Advancing.) My charge, sir, for consultation, without retainer, is ten doilars, to be deducted from retainer when suit is entered. : D. Why, I—I—you see—I thought— Mrs. D. Yes; Isee again. Pay the ten dollars, hubby; then learn this lesson—never to run into a lawyer’s office to get a disinterested opinion on Home Rule, nor withhold from your cherie the knowledge necessary for her conduct of your affairs. Ta-ta, Mr, Lawyer! When Mr. Dukeson, requires any assistance for his appearance at court, I'll have his dear mother-in-law—to whom he will hereafter be most devotedly attached—communicate with you. } (Exeunt Mrs, D. and D.) L. Admirable woman! By George, I’ll see that she is put - on the executive committee of the Daughters of the New Dis- pensation! : : o (Curtain.) THE DIME DIALOGUES, / THE HIGHEST DUTY OF ALL; oR, THE TEST THAT TELLS.. Characters :—Mrs. Norris; Neti and Bevin, her daugh- ters; Ertan Murruy, a servant, and Nora, her half-grown sister. < Scene I.—A_ sitting-room, with Mrs. Norris, Nevine and BELLE, sitting around, sewing or engaged with fancy-work, Mrs. Norris. It’s no usé talking, girls; your father says . she positively cannot afford you new dresses for the party, and that is all there is to it. He says there must be retrench- - ment, somewhere, and when he speaks in that way, I have searned that there is no use to argue with him, Neti. That's always the way, mamma. Just when we want things the very most, then is the time when papa begins to preach hard times, If I can’t have a new dress to wear to Jennie’s party, I sha'n’t go at all, so there, now! And, you know, I want to look my very best, there, for a very particu- lar reason. I don’t believe times are any harder now than ever. Mrs. N. I don’t pretend to know much about it, myself, Ym sure, but there must be something in it, for every one is: talking about hard times, and the necessity for economy. Bette, They say there is going to be great distress among . the working-people this winter.. The mills are running on only half time now, and before long many of them will shut down entirely. Then what w7/l the poor people do? Nenu. Oh, Belle! Do bestill! You always have some uncomfortable notion to put in one’s head! I wish you wouldn’t talk that way! The working people are always com- -plaining. I never yet knew a winter when the cry wasn’t the - game, and yet they get through all right. j - B. Perhaps, if you were in their place, you would com- plain, too. You would then have something more serious than the denial of a new party frock to fret you. ; New. You're always preaching, Belle; but I notice that you are just as ready to have a new gown as any one else. I’m sure you had one for Emily Walker’s tea, not a month ago, and had it made, too, If Jhad been having it, I should have made it myself, and saved the dressmaker’s Dill. That would be true economy. : B. It is true that I hada new gown. I had it made by _ Miss Brown, because I knew she was greatly in need of work, ‘ THE HIGHEST DUTY OF ALL, and sadly in want of every pennv she could earn. But I paid for it out of the money Aunt El wnor gave me on my birth- day, so that it concerned no one but myself. 1 didn’t ask papa for a cent. p Mrs. N. Come, girls, don’t go to arguing, but see what you can do to help me out of my trouble. Last evening your father said that there must be a saving somewhere, or he couldn’t pull through the present crisis. J don’t see how 1 can manage any more economically than Iam doing, but I suppose | shall have to try to do something. Nevir. I'm sure I’m willing to help allI can. Perhaps if we could do something to save papa expense, he will be willing to buy me the material fora new gown, and I can make it myself. Mrs. N. I feel as though we really must have new cur- tains in here this winter, These are so shabby. (Looking around.) So, we must have them. We shall have to dismiss Ellen, and get along with only one girl, 1 suppose. You girls will have to share her work between you, B. Oh, mamma! Dismiss poor Ellen! Just when it will be utterly impossible for her to find another situation, and she has to help her father provide for all those younger brothers and sisters! I will go without a new cloak and hat, rather than you should do that. It seems too cruel, Mrs. N. Really, Belle, Iam surprised at you. Your vehe- mence is inexcusable. You speak as though you thought I liked to do this. I tell youlam obliged to. Ican’t help my- self. Of course it's hard for Ellen, but one has to think of one’s own family first, Newute. Of course they do, and Iam quite willing to do my share of her work, especially if, by so doing, I can earn my own frock. B. It is not a question of more or less work to do—it is a question of actual life to others. The mill where Ellen’s father works is going to close the first of next month. He will not have a cent, unless he happens to earn a little by an occasional day’s work here and there wtth which to support a family of six, Hllen’s wages, though not much, would at least keep them from actual starvation, and I cannot feel it right for us,to take the bread out of their mouths in order to save the wages of a servant, that we may have more to spend in other ways. on N. You don’t seem to think of your poor father, elle, B. Oh, yes, I do! If it were absolutely necessary for us to go without servants, you would find me the last to com- plain, mother. But, now, we can retrench in‘ other ways. We spend a great deal more upon our table than is necessary. Thaye told you that Iam willing to make my last winter’s ‘HE DIME DIALOGUES. wardrobe do service another season. In the face of the un- told misery which will soon be around us, we can do without new curtains, to start with. ; Neue. Yes, and have every one call us mean and poor, _ Have you no pride? B. 1 hope I have enough to keep me from taking what be- longs to others. Neri. I must say, Belle, you have queer notions, You — fire up and speak as though you thought we were a set of rob- bers just because, times being hard, as you yourself say they are, we are trying to be economical by dismissing a ser- vant. I think you are not very respectful to your mother. B. (Going up to her mother and kneeling by her side, she uts one arm around her waist and looks up into her face.) ear mother, you know I did not intend to be disrespectful, do you not? Ihave this matter so much at heart. I have been around considerably among these pcople, and I know so well what they will suffer this coming winter. We are well-clothed, well-fed, warm and comfortable, and still should be, even though we were much poorer than we are now, and it does seem wrong to me to put Ellen out of the way of earn- ing ber few dollars a month, in the face of the universal pov- erty which will soon prevail. Oh, Mamma! Promise me you will not send Ellen away!. Please do! ; Mrs, N. Why, Belle, you are really getting eloquent. You'are a good girl, my dear, but I think you take altogether too serious a view of things for a young person, You may trust to my judgment to do what I think proper in the case (Curtain falls.) : Scznn II.—A poorly furnished room, with a erth tn one corner, in which is the figure of a child. Eten Murpuy, seated by the table, 1s engaged in mending some oor garment. Nora is seated on a@ stool at her feet. ; Ex.en. Now, Nora, don’t cry, me poor girl. Oi know it's awful bard to bear, darlint, but cryin’ won’t help matters anny, av’ will only make yez wake, whin ye’ll be afther nad- in’ ivery bit of strength ye’ve got for what’s to come. (Wép- ing away a tear, herself.) Nora. Ye’re cryin’ yersilf, Ellen, an’ who can hilp st, wid little Biddy lyin’ there, moanin’ fit to break yer heart, an’ nothin’ to be done for her. An’ the rist of the childer cryin’ for very hunger. E. Oi know it! Oi know it! ’Twill break me heart intirely to lose little Biddy. The docther was afther sayin’ this very — THE HIGHEST DUTY OF ALI, 63 day that if wez c’u’dn't get her some beef-tea, or somethin’ nourishin’, she’d die before the wake wor out. Och! Wirra, wirra! “Twor an unlucky day whin Oi had to lave Mrs. Norris’s. Since Oi spint me last pinny, an’ the dollar ye earned last wake, there’s not a sup of food in the house that’s paid for, an’ivery wan is feart to trust ivery wan ilse, the toimes are so hard, so I don’t know which way to turn. Poor father is jist «bout disperate. Oi don’t loike the way he is talkin’, Trouble will come av it Nora. Perhaps if Miss Belle knew about little Biddy, she eu’d help her. She has a koind heart, has Miss Belle. K. Yis, that she has, bliss her! But, Oi don’t fale as though Oi c’u’d go to her again. She’s alriddy paid the rint av these rooms for two wakes. If it hadn’t bin for her, we’d a-bin out in the strates before now. Nora: (Sobbing afresh.) Oh, Ellen! Whativer shall we do, at all, at all! Oh, if the rich payple w’u’d only give us some- thin’ to do! EK. That’s jist it, Nora, darlint. We're not beggars—we don’t ask charity, but wez do want wurrk, an’ ought to have it, whin there’s plinty able to pay for it, Father says the min are all gittin’ disperate, an’ riddy fer anny divilmint. He’s bin talkin’ wid that Jerry Dean, who’s always riddy to plot mischief, annyhow, an’ no good will come avit. If Oi e’u’d only have kipt me place, we’d a-had enough to kape brid in our mouths, at laste. Rich payple little know what they’re doin’ whin they turn off their servants in toime av distress loike this, : Nora. O02 think it’s becoz they’re silfish, an’ don't care. They’d ought to think, if they don’t, (A wail heard.) There’s poor little Biddy cryin’ ag’in, (Goes over to the crib and ca- vesses the child.) She’s could, an’ there’s but a way bit kind- lin’ in the house. It makes me woild. Two whole months since father had anny wurrk, an’ thray since ye wor’ dis- missed. But hark! What’s that nize, Ellen? (Both listen in- tently and ELLEN goes to the window.) Exvuen. (Wringing her hands.) Oh, it’s coom! it’s coom! I knew it w'u’d. Ob! Oi hope father’s not there! Nora. (Springing to her side.) What d’ye mane, Ellen? What’s that rid glow in the skoi? Oh, Ellen, Oi’m feart! Is somethin’ dreadful goin’ to happen? Will wez all be kilt in- toirely? (Clinging to Hilen.) E. No, they won’t hurt us, darlint. We're safe enough They've foired the mills, that’s what they’ve done. Oi fared they w’u’d. It’s all that Jerry’s mischafe. Oh! Oi wish father had stayed at home this noight. He'll be kilt, shure, if they git in a row, an’ what'll we do thin? Oi must go out an’ see what’s happenin’, an’ if Oi can foind father. Ye moind Biddy “hoile Oi’m away, (Throws an old shawl over 3 i oy 66 a THE DIME DIALOGUES, — ' her head, and ts about to leave when the door bursts open and BELLE enters, followed by Mrs. Norris, both very much excited.) KE. Miss Belle! Mrs, Norris! B. Hilen, Ellen! Do you sce what they are doing, and my father shut up in the office of the mill! Where’s your father? We can get no one to help us, and I came right here because I knew your father would if he were bere, ——- Mrs. N. (Catching hold of Eten) Where is your father, Ellen? Oh, beg him to come, quick, guéck/ We heard the rioters yellas we came up the street. Why do you stand there dumb? Why don’t you speak and tell me where your father is? Surely fe is not one of the mob? E. I’m feart he is, ma’am. fle’s not bin in since four o’ the clock this day. ; : Mrs. N. (Wringing her hands.) I thought we could de- pend upon. iim, surely, if no one else, Oh, what shail I do, what shall Il do? Can’t we go out and find him? If he knew Mr. Norris was in the mill, he would not have let the men at- tack it, if he had any influence. Oh! I shali go frantic! E, i'll go and say if Oi can foind him in the crowd. Oi’m shure the min, none av thim, w’u’d wish harrm to anny wan. They're gittin’ disperate whin they think av their families starvin’ an’ freezin’, an’ no one to hilp thim, Father w'u’d _ niver have gone wid these minif he had bin hisownsilf. But, whin he saw little Biddy dyin’ before hiz, very ois, an’ Oi c’u’d git nothin’ more to do after your mother sint me away, he filt he c’u’dn’t stand it any longer. But, they can’t know that Mr. Norris is in the mill, for they niver w’u'd intind harrm to anny person. | Oi’ll say what Oi can do. Let’s go. Nora, don’t lave the house till we come back... (Hweunt.) (Curtain, fails.) ; Scant Ill.—Same as preceding. Curtain rises, disclosing } Nora, looking out of the window. Nora. (Anatousiy.) Oi wisht they’d come back. There must be something terrible goin’ on. There’s sich a nize Oi’m -feart to be alone wid the childer. There! Oi hare Sstips on the stairs, (Opens door.) (Enter Eien and BeniE.) BELLE. : Ou, Ellen! How can I ever, ever thank you for what you've done for us to-night? ; EB. ’Twor nothin’, Miss Belle. Anny wan in me place w’u'd have done the same. : ' B, Those dreadful men—that awful mob! How did you THE HIGHEST DUTY OF ALL. 6 ever dare go among them? I can hear them yet. But if you hadn’t been just as brave as you were, my father would have been dead before now. Oh, I can’t bear to think of itl (Buries her face in her hands and begins to ery.) E. Ah, don’t ye now, Miss Hee The danger is over an’ your father is safe an’ sound. Your mither went home wid ‘im. : B. Your father risked his life, too. Oh, it is too awful that these things should have to be. How cold it is here, Ellen. Have you no fire? E. Hardly anny foire for a wake, Miss Belle. : - ~ And poor little Biddy sick, too? Had you no money at all? EB. No, miss. Wid six childer to clothe and feed, a man can’t save very much, an’ what little savin’s Oi had wint long ago. If Ojc’u’d have kipt me place, things w’u’d not have bin quite so bad, an’ father w’u’d niver haye tuk to goin’ wid that sit av min. ; ; 8B. Then this. is owr doing! Ellen, you shall have your place again to-morrow, and J shall see that you have food and. - coal here before another day goes by. I shall see, too, that little Biddy is provided with everything she needs. E. God bless you, miss! Oi can hardly belave it thrue that Oi’m to be at wurrk again. Oh, blissings on your koind heart! . ; _ B._ It is little enough we can do, Ellen, to recompense you for all you have suffered. What a lesson this should be to all, in times like this, not to add to the general misery, by dis- _ missing from their service faithful servants who will starve for need of the wages they should be earning. Rather let them deny themselves more of their luxuries, or even com- forts, than that they should do this untold wrong. (Curtain falls.) 2 i (PHE DIME DIALOGUES. 68 DOUBLE SURPRISE FOR THE SCOOPERS: 3 OR, UNCLE BEN’S REWARD. Characters :—Mr. BENJAMIN Scooprr, Mrs. Hannan Scoor: ER, JOHN Watson, Henry ApAms, Birty Wison, Er. - WARD Youna, Fanny Marks, JANE JonEs, SALLY HORNER, Mary SMiruH. Sige Scene.—A room comfortably furnished. Chairs R. and L. Table C. Gun resting on hooks at back of stage. The table should be set to one side before the dance, and afterward placed near center of stage by Mrs. Scoorer: Candle or lamp on table. Mr. Scoopnr reading a paper. Mrs Scoop ER knitting. y Mrs. Scooper. It’s about fifteen years, isn’t it, Benjamin, since the locusts were here? Mr. Scooprr. (Looking up from his paper.) Since who was here? Mrs. $8. The locusts. You know what I mean, don’t you? Them things which hollers, Pharaoh and Ligypt. Mr. 8. Oh, is that what you're talkin’ about? (Resumes his paper.) ae Mrs. 8. (After a pause.) Benjamin! oats Mr. 8. (Startled.) What is it, Hannah? ; ‘ Mrs. 8S. You didn’t answer my question. Mr §. What was you axin’, Hannah? Mxs. 8. About them locusts. How long is it since they — were here? : Mr. 8. (Astde.) Hang the locusts! (Zo Mrs. Scoorrn.) Wal, I reckon about nine hundred and sixty-nine.years. Mrs. 8, Oh, Benjamin, you're sich a fool! You know jist as well as I do tiiat they come every fourteen or every sixteen -years—which is it? % Mr. 8. I don’t know, Hannah; I haven’t been attending to the locusts, (Knock at door.) , : Mrs. 8. Sakes a massey! Who can that bc? _ Mx. 8. Wal, I really don’t know, but I guess I'd better go and see. (Rises and goes toward the door.) ; Mrs. 8. (Springing up.) Stop, Benjamin! Would you _ open the door without axin’ who's there? Mebbe it’s bug- _ giers, _ Mr. 8 Mebbe it is, but I wouldn’t have thought that __ bugglers would come so airly in the evenin’, (Zb the persons outside.) Who's there? _ fe athe: ’ S| pe is DOUBLE SURPRISE FOR THE SCOOPERS. 69 JoHn Watson. (Outsidc.) Some boys and girls, Uncle Ben. You needn’ Le afraid; I'm John Watson, Mr. 8. Oh, is it you, John? Wal, I wasn’t afeared, but Hannah was; she’s kind of skeery. Mrs. 8. Benjamin, bush up! You know I wasn’t afeared, but I wasn’t a-agoin’ to let Tom, Dick and Harry into the house without axin’ who they were. 5 Mr. 8. Yes, I guess that was about right, Hannah. (Opens the door.) Yello, John; how de do? ae (inter JouN.) JouN, First-rate! How are youand Aunt Hannah? Mr. 8. Oh, first-rate. Come in and sit down, Jon, There's some more folks out here. Mrs, 8. You don’t say! Wal, bring ’em in. Some more boys, I reckon? Joun, Yes, and girls, too. It’s what we call a surpvtise- party. We’ve come to surprise you. é t Mrs. 8. Wal, I guess you've succeeded. Bring ’emi in! Bring ’em in! . : Youn. (Going to door and gives command.) File right— march! ; . (Ainter in line, Fanny, Henry, JANE, Bruty, Sanity, Epwarp, : ; : Mary.) Mr. Scoopzr. (Laughing.) Vm tickled to death. I tell you, boys and gals,-I’m glad to see you. Take off your hats and bunnits. Find seats, now, all of you and make yourselves feel to hum. (Busties about to find seats for them, and Mrs, Scoorer tukes their hats and wraps, and seems to. be talking to them, also.) Gimme your hats, boys. I tell you | I'm glad you've come, Kind of wakens us old people up, you know, to have the young folks come ia, A Mrs. S. Benjamin talks all the time, and I can’t get a word in edgeways. We're awful glad you’ve come. Hain’t seen you foralong spell Fanny, how’s all the folks? Fanny. Oh, we're all well. ; é ; Mrs. 5. ‘And Jane and Sally and Mary, are you x11 well to bum? (They all respond, ‘‘ Oh, yes!” ‘Very well!” ‘* First rate,” etc.) ae t { Mr. 8. Now, I want you all to fecl comfortable. “Make yourselves tohum. Railly I don’t know what we ought todo first. [ s’poss we ought to cut up somehow or another. There's allers cuttin’ up at a party, Lreckon, That’s the way . it was when I was a boy, anyhow. Henry, Oh, yes, Uncle Ben, we will enjoy ourselves, Mr. 8. Yes, i s’pose you will, and that's just what I want youtodo, ButIs’pose there ought to be some cuttin’ up, so’s to make it appear like a real party, There ain’t no fun in THE DIME DIALOGUES, jest sittin’ around and talkin’. Hannah, what kind of a play had we better git up? — ‘Mrs. 8. Oh, I don’t know. Ihain't played nothin’ since J was a gal. Mebbe the young folks can think of somethin’. F. We might try making rhymes to start with. Mr. 8. That’s it! That’s it! That's jest the thing! We used to do that when I wasa boy, One feller’d stand in the corner and make a rhyme on some gal’s name; then the gal - wouid have to come up and kiss the feller if she. couldn’t help it, and then she would make a rhyme, and so on, Isn’t that - the kind of a play you mean, Fanny? : F. Yes, Uncle Ben; that’s it. Mr. 8. Wal, I reckon you’re all a leetle bashful about startin’ out, so I'll be the fu’st one, T’li go out and make the first rhyme. : rae \ - Mrs. S. Why, Benjamia, I s’pose you’re not goin’ to make a dunce of yourself. Let the young folks do. the playin’. Mr. 5S. Yes, I'll let them do the playin’, but I'll jest kinder give them a start. They’re a lectle backward, you know. Now I'll go abead and make a rhyme. Let me see. Yes— ~?’um. Now I’ve got it: Here I stand up in the corner, Come right out here and make a rhyme, you little Sally Horner. The boys and girls laugh, and some of them exclaim: “ Uncle en, that’s pretty good!”) a ; — Sanny. (Going forward.) Yes, Uncle Ben. I'll do that. (She kisses him.) ‘ Mr. §. That's the caper! That’s the way we used to play it; isn’t it, Hannah?” Mrs. 8. Benjamin, if I was you I wouldn’t make a dunce of myself. S'pose vou play somethin’ that’s more sensible, like. Might have a dance. Axtui tHE Boys. (TLogether.) .‘‘ Yes, that’s it!” ‘A dancel” **Let’s have a dance!” : Bruty. But, where's the fiddler, and who would play on it if we had one? oa ; : . Mrs. 8. Benjamin’s a kind of a fiddler. Benjamin, get your fiddle and tuneitup. Aut THe Boys, ‘‘ Yes, that’s it!” ‘‘ Uncle Ben can play!” “Uncle Ben, get the fiddle and play!” Mr. 8. Oh, Lain’t nothin’ of a fiddler. But I want youall to feel to hum, so I'll get the fiddle, (Exit Mr. 8.) — ~Epwarp. Now we'll have a jolly time. _ H. I didn't know Uncle Ben could play on the violin. _ Mrs. 8. Oh, he can saw a little. (Enter Mr. Scoorrr, with a violin in his hand.) = Mx, §. _ Now, boys and gals, get ready to shake your Ci ee! A ‘ 2 a ‘ H. Uncle Ben, 1] play and you may dance. ee es oe den aN er i DOUBLE SURPRISE FOR THE SCOOPERS. Me 8. What! You can’t play, can you? HH. Oh, yes, a little. Mr. 8. Wal, that'll jest suit me, for I ain’t much of a fid- dler. (Gives the violin’ to Henry.) Come ahead, now, boys and gals, and we'll have a reg’lar tear up. (Goes to SALLY.) Miss ‘Sally, will you condescend to sacrifice your interest to — my convenience so far as to trip the light bombastic toe along-— side of me? Mrs. 8. (Aside.) Jest listen to that old fool! And he’s after that Sally Horner again! 8. Certainly, Uncle Ben; I'll be pleased to dance with you. JOHN. | (Going to Mrs. ScoorEr.) Mrs. Scooper, will you honor me with your hand in the cotillion which is now being formed? Mrs. 8. Oh, gitaway! I can’t ae Tain’t such a fool as Benjamin. Joun. But I must insist on your dancing with me, Mrs. Scooper, And Tassnre you I shall feel honored if you will give me your hand. Mrs. §.. Lhave half a mind to go ahead jist to show Ben- jamin how silly it luoks. Yes, [ll dance. (They go out and take their places.) Mr. 8. (Aside.) Hokey! the old woman’s goin’ to dance! H. (Tuning ne violin.) Now go ahead and get ready for the dance. (Bruiy invites Fanny to dance with him, and Epwanrp selects JANE.) All ready, are you? Mr. 8. Yes, I think we're all ready. Play up now and we'll have a jolly time. (Hmnry plays and they dance for @ short time. Mr. Scoorpr exclaiming occasionally, ‘Whoop! Hi! This ts jolly!” ‘ Jist like old times!” ‘‘ Biggest fun Pee had for. ten years,” ete.) Mrs, 8. There! I guess we’d better stop. (They cease dancing.) Mr. 8. Stop! why you don’t mean it, Hannah? I haven’t — had sich a big time for fifteen years. And then these it _ folks are enjoyin’ themselves, Let's go ahead. Mrs. 8. I want to speak to you, Benjamin. Mr. 8. You do? Couldn't you speak to me after awhile, — Hannah? I’ve got kind of wakened up and would like to go ahead. I think this is jolly. Play up and let us go it again! Mrs, 8. (Warningli y.) Benjamin! Mr. 8. And the young folks are enjoyin’ inmates And that’s right. I want to make ’em feel to num. Mrs. 8. (Sternly.) Benjamin, step this way. (Sie goes to one side of the stage.) st Mr. 8. (Going to her.) Why, w hat’s up, Hannah? Mrs. 8. (Aside to Mr. Scoormr.) ee you're accu tin’ an a leetle too gh ae THE DIME DIALOGUES. ONiR: a Why, Hannah, that’s all right. People allers cut up at parties. And you know I want to make the young. people to feel to hum, ‘Mrs. 8. I tell you, Benjamin, you musn’t: cavort patie - that mene little Horner gal that way. Mr. 8. Oh, Hannah, that ain't nothin’! Only playin’, you know. Idon’t keer no more for Sally than I do for you or any other purty gal. I jist want the young folks to have a jolly time and feel to hum. ; Mrs. S. Wal, Benjamin, I’ve give you warnin’, so look AOU Mr. 8. Oh, that’s all right, Hannah, You know whenthe boys and gals have come in we must kinder make them enjoy ne _ themselves. , Mrs. 8. Now, mind, Msarantn: you must stop that ca- vortin’ around that mean little Sally Horner. Mr. 8. Oh, that’s all right; Hannah. es : Mrs. 8. Now, mind! I give you fair warnin’. (Turning . to the others.) I think we’d hetter have a Ong. : Brnny, Epwarp, Sau LY, AND Mary. Yes, that’s it! Let's have a song! : Joun, Epwarp, Fanny AND JANE. Yes, @ song! a song! Mr. 8. But I don't think I can sing anything. ans. 8 (Laughs heartily.) Why, you ol goose, they “-weren’t axin’ you to sing. ; Mr. 8.- Oh, I thought they were! Wal, it’s all right, I don't think I could sing anything but ‘“ Auld Lang Syne.” Epwarp,. Well, let's have that. Mrs. 8. Oh, Benjamin can’t ging. Might as well listen to a calf bawlin’. Mr, 8. Yes, you gals and boys go ahead and sing some- thin’, and then after you get through mebbe I'll give you x i > touch of “ Auld Lang Syne.” - Bruny. Yes; that's all right, Uncle Ben. We'll ding (nae of song), and then we ‘IT be glad to hear ‘Auld Lang - Syne,” or anything else you may choose to sing. Mr. S. That's all right. Go ahead. (The boys and girls face the audience and sing, If tt shoald not suit for all the characters to take part in this, one, two, or more can do the sing ing. ‘Any popular or- patriotic song may be chosen.) Mrs. 8. That’s a heap better than’ dancin’ or makin’ rhymes. (As?de.) And it doesn’t give Benjamin a chance to cavort around that mean little Sally Horner. E. Now you are to sing, Uncle Ben. a Mr. 8. (Olearing jis throat.) Wal, 1 railly don’t. think Js could make much of an out at it, but, if I must I must. (Clears his throat.) e spect Mm scare you all. (Clears his _ throat.) 5a , See eae forward and cog 2 her fein on his sont #. Fea DOUBLE SURPRISE FOR THE SCOOPERS, der.). Oh, no, Uncle Ben, we'll not be frightened. Indeed, we would be glad to hear you sing ‘“‘Auld Lang Syne,” Mrs. 8. (Showing her anger by twisting herself and making awry face.) That impudent little Sally Horner! Always stickin’ herself forward. Mr. 8. (Clearing his throat.) Wal, Ill go ahead, but I don’t kalkilate [’ll be very entertainin.’ (Cleurs his throat and sings one or two verses of ** Auld Lang Syne.”’) ALL THE Boys AND GiRLs. (Clapping their hands.) That’s good! First-rate! Excellent! Tip top! _H. Why, Uncle Ben, I thought you said you couldnt sing. Mr. 8. Wal, you see I’m getting up in years, and my voice is kinder cracked and splintered, but I tell you when I was young, like you. boys, 1 could make the woods ring. I wasn’t, afeared to sing agin’ anybody. And I was somethin’ of a speaker, too. Used to speak sich pieces as ‘‘ Youd Scarce Expect One of My Age,” and ‘‘ The Boy Stood on the Burnin’ Deck,” but, of course, I couldn’t speak anything of that kind now. Anu tHe Boys: Y¥es, Uncle Ben, give usa speech. Yes, yes! Let us have a speech! : Mr. 8. -I’}l tell you what I'll do, boys. If one of you will git up and make a speech, I’ll foller after. But 1 wouidn’t care about speakin’ first. H. No, of course not. John, -can’t you speak some- thing? Joun. Yes, I can give something. Mr. 8S. Wal, go ahead and I'll foller right along. Mrs. S. Now, Benjamin, you won’t do that, will you? Mr. 8. Yes, of course! You know, Hannah, this is a party, aud we ought to have some cuttin’ up; and, besides that, I want to make the young folks kinder feel to hum and enjoy themselves. Joun. (Takes position and speaks.) (Recite any piece that ts preferred, ) Mr. 8. I tell you, John, you do that mighty well. H. Now, Uncle Ben, we are ready for your speech. Boys anp Grris. Yes, Uncle Ben, we are ready for your speech. Give us your speech! (MR, Scooper rises and takes position.) : Mrs. 8. Pooh, Benjamin, you can’t speak, Better sit down. Mr. 8. No, I’m goin’ to go ahead. Everybody ought ta Varn to speak. Them old fellers we read about, Demosthenes and Jericho, they had to Varn, and they kept on practicing until they got to be tip top speakers. Now I'm goin’ to com- mence. My speech is about ‘‘The Old Canoe.” I reckon mebbe some of you have read it. Now I’m goin’ to go. THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mrs. §. Go ahead, Benjamin. The sooner you git started the sooner it'll be over. Mr. 8. Yes, I’m goin’ to go right ahead now. (Clears his — ‘ throat.) As {said before, I’m goin to speak about ‘‘ The Old Canoe.” (Clears his throat and convmences. Makes very ludi- crous gestures.) . “« Where the rocks are gray and the shore is steep And the waters below look dark and deep, Where the rugged pine, in its lonely pride, Leans ghomily over the murky tide, Where the weeds and rushes are long and rank And the weeds grow thick on the winding bank, | Where the shadow is heavy ” — hum — where — hum — where—where the shadow is heavy—where—hum.” Mrs. 8. Benjamin, I guess you’re kinder stuck. Mr. §. Yes, it sorter looks that way. But, I won’t give it up. Ill try another piece: 4 He is fallen! We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered among us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance its magmificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, a scep- tered hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own originality. A mind bold, independent and—and—and— A mind bold, inde- pendent—and—and—-” Mrs. S. There, there, Benjamin! you’ve made a muss of it ag’in, as I knew you would, so don’t be a fool any more. 8S. (Advancing and taking his hand, at which all shout, - * Huzea for Uncle Ben!) You are'the dearest Uncle Ben in the world, and I have the pleasure of— Mrs. 8. Oh, you get out! You’ve had the pleasure of making a fool of him just about enough, Sal Horner, so I” guess you’d better go right home. I’m tired of your cuttin’ up with Benjamin— : Mr. 8. Why, Hannah, ole gal, what’s the matter ov ye? Mrs. S. Old gal, am it? Well, I’ll show ye! I’ve had enough of this tom-foolery, so I guess you’d better all sur- prise yourselves by going home. (Zhe young people begin to gather their things.) : a _ Mr.S8. Vil swow! This is jist enough to burst my but- tons. J say, boys and gals, you jist stay right on. Don’t ye go! Let’s make a night of it, jist to show the old gal— Mrs. 8. Old galag’in! Oh, I’ll make a night of it for You, - Benjamin Scooper. . : §. There. there, Aunt Hannah! I was— ; Mrs. 8. Don’t Aunt Hannah me, nor Uncle Ben Benja- min! He's made a scandal of hisself, and it’ll be the talk of the hull— ; ne ie S. We mean it shall be the talk of the whole town, for in THE STARS’ CONTENTION. - pe honor of this agreeable occasion and kindly reception, I am delegated to present this to you, Uncle Ben, with the regards of all whom you’ve so delightfully entertained. (Hands him a big silucr watch. All having secured their things, scamper out, laughing and crying out, ‘‘ Good-night, Uncle Ben!” as they disappear.) : E ~Mr.8. Well, Vl swow! (Holding up watch.) This is a sur- prise! Isay, Hannah, who’s the biggest fool, you for gittin’ mad at Sal Horner, or me for not keepin’ ’em here ontil I had made another speech expressin’ my thanks? Mrs. 8. Another speech, Benjamin? Oh, good Lordy massy! Let’s go to bed. “(Curtain.) 2 —— THE STARS’ CONTENTION ; OR, ' PEACE ON EARTH; GOOD-WILL TO MEN. A DRESS PIECE FOR GIRLS, Characters :—Jurirer, Venus, Mars, Nepruns, Mexcory, Morrat Marpsns, ete. Scunn.—A woodland glade, with vista through trees for final tableau. This is easily arranged, and on a small stage ; though a better effect can be obtained on a large one. The grouping must be effective, and if desirable, and the stage is large, any number of children can be introduced, in pretty pos- tures. CuPip might sit at Venus’s feet, JUPITER have SATEL-- LITES, cfc. The closing tableau must be themain feature. The curtain over this must be green, as in a woods, or blue, to repre- sent sky through the trees. At proper time curtain ts with- drawn, disclosing a white-draped figure, with brilliant star on her forehead, ANGELS hover behind and above her, and CHERUBS _ around her feet. If possible throw strong white light on her, keeping other figures more in shadow. Do not use a colored light, Keep it all as white as possible. Scenr I.— Woodland. Gops assembled. (Enter Morvan Matwens, who start, and turn as if to go away.) Juriver. Earth and Olympus met. Tis well! Nay, fear not, mortal maidens sweet _ But tarry here. ist Maren. And who are you in strange attire That thus intrude upon our pleasure-grounds? Th 7 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Venus. Ob! call it not intrusion. In this lovely spot We've come to spend the day While Sol in his majestic splendor Rides on high, eclipsing our small light. Planets are we, ; And stars from azure depths; Our names well known to each And every one of you. Venus I, whose softly radiant light Falls from the evening sky on lovers whispering; Or, in the later night Upon some watcher pale, Heralding the longed-for dawn That bids her vigil cease. Jupiter, What, Venus, prating still Of love and lovers’ wanderings? Have done with such; this is an age When men have little time To think or speak of love And all akin to it. “Twas different once. Mercury. So different! Ah, the good old times When Jove hurled down his thunderbolts From far Olympian heights, And mortals paused to hear! , What messages to Delhi have I borne Straight from his council] hall and throne,— Messages of love and war and peace,— ’ Of life and death, while mortals breathless Waited our decrees celestial! Mars. Messages, indeed! J stirred up wars, When men grew tired of books, art, poetry aad lore! I sent them to the battle. field! Now, now, alas! my power is gone, And mortals cali me but a star! Yet still I shine red, red at night, Red with the blood of bygone wars, Paling all others with my ruddy. glow. ‘SEverat. Ah! Ah! Humph! ete - JuPiITER. Glow onl, ? With blood of nations slain, glow on! Still, greatest J among the planets now, And greater was than most When men believed us gods. conte itl es by these fair oe THE STARS’ CONTENTION, — 2p Marpen. No, not by me! 3p Marpen, Nor me! Neprune. There, hear you that, vain, boastful Jupiter? On land you may have had some sway, But Neptune ruled the stormy wave, ‘ And still o’er ocean sheds his light *Mongst worlds to these (pointing to mortals) unknown. Venus. I too, have place among the first— Among the brightest in the sky; I yield to none, Tho’ gone the power that once was mine. I shine for all. The lover-true, The faithless maid, the rich, the poor alike May gaze in faith on me. Sweet maidens, is’t not so? ist Mamen. In evening sky we love to see Your beauty glowing clear, Yet one there is— Norra Srar, Dear children of this mortal sphere, These planets seem to think That they are all the universe; Forgetting in their wordy war That we, too, have a place Among the starr ‘y host. What one of them has done the work That has been mine for eons vast? a winter nights and shorter summer ones old my steadfast way, ae point the traveler true, Guiding his wanderings thro’ the dark— More true than compass- -needle to the pole. The mariner upon the sea, The fugitive slave-mother holding to her heart Her dying child, The pioneer on prairie vast — Plodding his weary way from East to West— All, all, acknowledge me their guiding star, Because I fail them not from dark till dawn, 4ruH Maren. How truly have you spoken, ; Star of our Northern skies! All you have claimed is yours, and more. We do you homage. Yet to us Is one far greater than all these, Jupiter. ’Tis not possible. 2p Marpen. Both possible and true, eee DIME DIALOGUES. "Venus. ante than the gods? ees ‘You cannot know whereof you speak! - The greatest lights of all the universe are here, Unless, indeed, you mean the sun. 8p Marpen. No sno, nor moon nor any planet here Can bear comparison to the bright star Of which we speak, | Mars. They must be mad. There is none other seen by mortal eyes AS great as we. ign Maen. Tis stran ge you should not know! Your pagan eyes are blinded, it would seem; Or else you zili not see Our Royal Star, Too often hid from erring human eyes; lt shines, a beacon-light to all the world! 2p MarpEn. «To them that sit in darkness, or walk forth, The light of Truth upon their brows, Tt sends its rays to breathe forth Peace— | Peace, Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men! | (Voices behind the scenes, or the mortals on the stage may sing, to air of last line of Missionaay Chant*: “* It ts the Star of — Bethlehem!” As they sing, curtain ts drawn back, disclosing tab- leau. Planets start back and shade their eyes with as hands, _ Mortals fall on knees singing.) ‘When marshaled o’er the nightly plain The glittering host bestud the sky, One star alone of all the train Can fix the sinner’s wandering eye. Hark! hark to God! The chorus breaks -_ From ever Lost, from every gem; _ But one alone the Savior speaks: It was the Star of Bethlehem! It was my guide, my light, my all, : It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and dangers’ ell It led me to the port of Peace. Now safely moored, my perils o’er, _ _Vsing, first in night's s diadem, ‘Forever and forever more, ~The Star, the Star of Bethlehem.” — (Cur tain. ) = ai be found in any Hymnah THE MODEL EXAMINATION, THE MODEL EXAMINATION. FOR THRER MALES AND NINE FEMALYS—LARGE GIRI? FOR TEACHER, (Pupils on stage when curtain rises.) TracHEerR. Now, pupils, we will have an exercise in His- tory of the United States, "I want you all to be prompt and precise in answering the questions given. Mary, who dis- covered America? rece Mary. Julius Cesar, ie ‘Teacner. No, no, that is wrong. (All snap fingers.) AwnntE. Teacher, I know! TracHER. Well, who was it, Annie? Annim. Why, John Kitzelheffer. Sauuip. John Hitzelkeffer! No, it wasn’t, either. It was Jobn Frederick Schnitzelhaumer. Sut Buipert, An’ plase, marm, they don’t know nothin’ about it at all, at all. Shure, an’ me granmither often tould me who it was. (Pupils ail laugh. ) _ Bripeer. Och, ye may laugh, ye hathen spalpeens. But it’s meself that wouldn't laugh, if I didn’t know more nor you. (All laugh again.) Treacher. Stop this nonsense! Do you hear? (Strikes several pupils with stick.) Now, Bridget, tell us who dis-: covered America? : Bripcer, An’ faith, tacher, these nabobs of~ scholars jostled all the idees’ ont of me wid their laughin’. But, if ek McGallagher was here, he’d tell you in sigias an no time. ‘TeacuEr, Yes, but he’s no good. Bripcer. He isn’t, isn’t he? Bad ’cess to yaa Pat Mc! @ dincher, Jamie O ‘Shanighan and Ned McDufferin are the foinest young gintlemen that iver come out of the whole coun- thry of Kilkarney. Carrig. Ob, such palaver! You are nothing but an Irish blatherskite. (Bripenr rushes toward Carrie and reaches for her hoir, when Katrina steps between them ) : Karria., (Making fist.) You shust lef dot leedle girl be, - or I gifs you one on der cophf. Bripecer. An’ be abe you can’t do that, you Dutch sour- crout. (Shows fight.) : p Cairns, Vell, vat you vant here, anyhow, somedimes? T don’t vant to say noddings mit der mistress. (Both stand menacing each other.) tape Sy TeacnEer. No fighting here, Take your seats. (Whips both. All laugh.) JAMES. Hurrah for the Dutch and Trish! (All give three. g cheers.) roe TEACHER. | Why; this is. outrageous, Aisgisoeth: conduct! ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES, Vl turn you all out of school if there’s any more such be- =< havior, : : ; - Sam. ® Then we wouldn't have any more school, missus. Kare, Well, I wouldn’t care. The idea of having these - Dutch and Irish around here, anyhow. Harry. Why, what are yow talking about, Kate? We wouldn’t have any fun in our schocl at all without Katrina and Bridget. They are just daisies, ain't they boys? Briveer. (Jumps up excitedly and making fists.) Be me sowl, don’t you be making fun of me. ' Karrina. You shust mind your own peesness, or you can git out of dis schkool mit de door on your back. TEACHER. Come to order! You are making entirely too much noise. Mrynis. Teacher, may Annie and me go for a bucket of : water? - James. Oh, no, teacher; you promised Harry Jones and a me. May we go? Tracuer, Vo, don’t you see we are reciting now? Mary. Ob! ob! quit that! as sea! TracnER. What’s all that noise about, Mary? ne Mary. Why, Sally Smith pinched me in the ear. : Briparr. No you don’t, ather. Hould on there! You don’t come none o’ your sheenanigan on me. TracuEerR. What’s wrong now, Bridget? Bripcer. Why, these dirty hathens are pinnin’ rags onto me, an’ shure I won’t shtand that. (Moves around with sev- eral rags pinned to her clothes. All laugh.) § TEACHER. Oh, such a school as this! Get to your seats! (Whips several pupils.) We have already gone beyond our vine in History. We will now have a few questions in Physi- ology. : ; Karrina. Philiosogies? Who's dot? Karr. Why, it’s that Dutch emigrant who cone ee the other day and wanted you to take a pretzel and zwei glaus Jager. ; Karrina. Oh, you don’t know noddings. , Ven you means Hans Vandunder, you shust shut mit your mousup. He pees a good fellow, by shingo! ; Tracurr. Now, Ill tell you once more to quit your quar- reling. J want you to answer some questions in Physiology. Annie, which is the largest bone in the human body? © ; - Awynin. The stapedius perrosteum inominata. jens TracnerR. That is the way to answer. Now, Minnie, tell - me where the tendon of Achilles is found. ; - Mrynte. The tendon of Achilles is situated in the poste- rior auriculum, just above the hebdomidal lexicology, and is _ joined to the maxillary consanguinity. ; : -Tuacupr. Why, just see how well yon can do, when you try! Now, Harry, you may describe the circulation. : THE MODEL EXAMINATION. = =—8&L_ Harry. Well, the circulation commences just beneath the pluribus unum, then gravitates along the anterior conclave of the auriferous venesection, winds its way consecutively through the antiquated conglomeration, and is Sane. refrig- crated into the multifarious hallucination. TuacuerR. That is excellent! But, we will now close our regular lessons and have a few speeches before we dismiss. Karrma. Dat ish goot! I make you one leedle speedch., Karr, Oh, the idea of the Dutch and Irish having every- thing to do in our entertaimment! Minnin, Yes, that’s so. I think it real mean, Mary. And sodoI.. We have plenty of English pieces, without your low Dutch and raw. Irish. Karrina. Now, youshust look a leedle out, or maype you _ knows noddings pooty soon derreckly! I gome here to make one speedch, and will make him. ‘ Teacner. Well, pupils, let Katrina make her speech, and then there will be no more bickering. Karrina, Yaw! Yaw! dat ish goot! I make him a goot speedch, and I dells you I make him gwicker. Tracner. Come forward then, Katrina, make your bow and say your piece. KAtRINA, | (Makes an awkward bow. Speech :) Ritter try schwesterleeba Vidmet iche dees hartz, Fodert Kinny anndry leeba Den es.macht meer sckmartz ~Ruich mach ich iche ershinen Ruich gayen zine. Eerer Ougen stilless Vinen Konn ich nicht farstayen. (AJI applaud.) - Bripeer. Och, me Dutch darlint, that wasn’t a bad spache; but, mistress, I know a better piece nor ven Will you let me spake it? JAMES. No, it’s my turn now. Sauurp. No, it isn’t. I come before you. Harry. Hold on there! I was to speak my piece before that Dutch girl spoke. : : Sam. Oh, no, you can't come that game on me. I was to — speak first of all. (All get up and several say: *‘ Teacher, let me speak first.” Great confusion ; several pulleat TEACHER, ‘Let me speak!”) TracHer. (Very cross.) Take your seats, every, One-Ofmas you! Since you cannot wait until your time comes to speak you may all speak at once, and see how that will do. Ready. tise. Places. Speak! (All speak different pieces, ae tng ee and get very loud and angry when—) (Curtain falls.) ey THE DIME DIALOGUES. ALLEE SAMER ’MELLICAN MAN. AN BN. CHARACTER MONOLOGUE. (Enter Hop Wone; full ““Chinee” costume, but wearing no pigtail.) ._ Me name Hop Wung. Me comee flom Han-Keoo. Me good Chinaman, allee samee like Mellican man. Me one t'e boys, evely time! Saby? Me allee samee ’Mellican—got mallied; now go barefoot on top headee. Gottee no pig-tail any more. ’Mellican man gittee mallied, soon have head allee samece like baby’s; shine like billiald ball. : _ Alle samee ’Mellican man, too, me got sothel-in-law! Mothel-in-law she lish; dlink lum all day, fightee all night. _ Me washee-washee, Hab nice place on Mott stleet. Big washee evly day, Lots money! Soon gittee lich. One day t'ink me wantee wife. Me got tiled cookee own ' glub, washee own dishee, makee own bed; me want wife allee samee ‘Mellican man, Saby?: Den me look lound see who mally. Me mallf anybody; - nobody wantee mally Chinaman. One bely nice girl she come to washee-washee evely week two times; one time bling washee, next time take washee home. _ Me likee her bely much. She nice girl, name Katie. Katie she Dish, but me likee her allee samee. She hab big feet, led hair, nose stickee up at end, and fleckles on face like mildew on washee; but me likee her ‘bely well allee samee, Me ask her she mally me. She on’y laugh and call me foolee. Meask her many times; but she on’y laugh and call me foolee, No gittee mad, though. One day Katie have no checkee when come gitee washee. _ No eheckee no washee, evely time! Katie say checkee lost. _ * Bling checkee,” me say, ‘‘ me give all washee bely soon.” Katie gittee mad. Say wantee washee anyhow. “No checkee no washee,” me say. _ Katie leal mad. Call me heap big foolee. Say clean place te _ allee samee like cyclone. Talk like steam-cars on lail- loa “ Katie, ” me say, you mally me, me do washee allee time,” “She talk jest same. Me hab bag money. Me. go gittee bag. Me show Katie. oo, ” me say, “see what me got. You mally me, me fe you some.” poe : Ths a all full, all Aolals. + Oh my?’ Katie she say, eyes open bely wide, AES «You mally me,” me say, “you gittee some, too. Saby?” 2 ‘Next time Katie come stay long time. Help me do i’nin’. Me likee her heap more evely time. Evely time me ask her mally me; evely time she callee me foolee. Allee samee she stay long time. Soon come see me evely day. One day me ask her she mally me, she say ‘‘ Yes.” - Ob! hbi-yil me bely happy Chinaman! Yes, me allee samee “Mellican man get mallied. Saby? — How me like it?) Oh! bully, *bout thlee months; then allee samec ’Mellican man say ‘‘ big foolee.” Kate she want money-bag. Me no tellee her where him be. She gittee mad. Gittee her splunk up. One day upset washce tub, Bleak all dishes. Smash out windows. : Me gittee mad, too. Me fightee. Policeman he come dlag me off an’ lockee me up. Big time! é Bymby t«kee me out, Judge he say ten dollee ten days. Malee ten dollee much easy. Me have washee w hole week makee ten dollee, Allee samee me gottee no money. Money all in bag. Bag hid away in big hole in chimney. Me in pietty bad fixee. Bymby Kate she say tellee: me where money-bag be, me gittee ten dollee. — Me no foolee. Tellee her, she gittee hund’ed dollee. Me. 538 say no; me goup Salt Cleek, ‘allee samee ’Mellican man. Kate she cly (ery). Me no iellee, though, and bymby she go’way. Then me — go to Island, spend ten days like tittle man. Saby? Oh! me one t’e boys, evely time! foes When ten days up, me go home. There findee Kate and — mothel-in-law, both doin’ washee-washee. Mothel-in-law she half dlunk, allee samee like foolee. Me goin. 5 Mothel-in-law she look lound, then talk at me allee samee like steam-engine, % Me tellee her gittee out. Kate she kissee me, say mothel-in-law come to stay, Callee me good Hop Wung, Say all be happy now. Me say all light. “Me allee samce like Mellican man. Then eyelything lovely. Have bully Hmet: Goose hang ‘way up high. Saby? é Bymby findee aid and mothel-{ in-law tig no workee. Me do all washee-washee; Kate she lead stoly-paper; nonlice is : law she dlink lum. Allee samee me know money-bag all light. Me tellee nobody ; where him be. Mothel-in-law she huntee house all ovel evely day. No~ findee. Then gittee heap mad. er more lum, Talk like vite steam- eee: St oti ea < “THE DIME DIALOGUES. B ymby Kate her big blother Jim ze come. He been on me faland six months, He big Turk Kate she kissee me some more. Say me much good Hop Wung. aay let Jim stay. All be bely happy. Me say all light. Me couldn’ t say no when Kate she kissee me. Saby? B me come little Hop ‘Wang: Oh, hi-yi! Big time! iieaaineeiw: led fire, and muchee lum. Evelybody dlunk. Mothel.in-law she giltee dlunk allee samee like blind owl— mean Uiled owl. Hab big old lacket. Next day hab head _ like washee-tub. Well, little Hop Wung he cly all day, cly all night, cly all time. Me washee all day, walk floor all night. Kate she lead paper and sleep. Mothel-in-law she dlink lum and talk. - Jim he eatee much, smokee much, swear big heap, Me do all workee. Me wonder what got mallied for, anyhow. One day Kate wantee big heap money. antee fifty dol- lee! Wantee gittee new hat, new dless, new shoes, new everything. Saby? “No gottee fifty dollee,” me say. cua Allee samee big lie!” Katesay. ‘‘ Where big money-bag?” “ Allee gone,” me say. “« Allee samee more big lie!” Kate say. Well, me know Kate need money. Jim not ‘lound. -Mothel-in-law sleep, much dlunk,. “Well,” me say, ‘‘you go out ten minute. When come yaad back me give money.” “ All light!” Kate say. Kissee me. Then go out. Me lockee door, Then gittee out old money-bag. Countee out twenty-five dollee, — Bymby Kate come back. - Give hermoney. She heap mad. Wantee jifty dollee. No takee twenty-five. Want gittee new ‘hat, new dless; new shoes, mothel-in-law, too. Me gittee mad. Me say didn’t mally whole family. * You gleat blute!” Kate say, Mothel-in-law wakee up. She say me big heathen. Jim come in. He call bad name, Say meno goodee—he bu’st my beadee. Kate thlow money at headee. " Mothel-in-law she take clothes-stickee. Hit me bely hard. ‘Talk like thee steam-engines. Jim he pickee up all dollals. y j Me gittee heap mad. g oe kickee Jim. ,He hitee me on nose, knockee me undel ; ta Cpper f Mothel-in-law she pokee me out with clothes-stickee. ; __ Kate she glab me by pig-tail. She pullee hald, makee me _hollel like locomotive whistle. ; ' : -ALLEE SAMEE ’MELLICAN MAN. Mothel- in-law she glabhold, Jim he glab hold, too. _ killee me. ee radios Me fall on floor, They dlag me to door, to thlow me out. Me gittee out knifee, cutee pig-tail off. . They all fall down steps. Then me gittee up, lockee door. Then policeman come. He want know tia: te lacket. 5 Kate, mothel-in-law, Jim all talk one timee, All say me .) beatee wifee, 3 P Policeman he tellee me open door soon quick. Me tellce him gittee out. He say he soon gittee 7m. Don’t letee him in he bu’stee door, then bu’stee me headee. Me no likee policeman his clubee, so me letee him in, Saby? Policeman he allest me ’gain, aiie samee like othel time. Diag me off to lockee up... More big time. Judge he say thiltee dollee thiltee day. Me say all light; let em went. Me takee thilty day. Me gottee no money. Big time then, me bet! Policeman he wantce gittee lick. Me washee-washee long time gittee thilty dollals. “Policeman he want makee thilty dollals in ten minute. Me no foolee Me take tailty days evely time. When gittce out have thilty dollee allee samee. Judge he say thilty day. Say next time gittee whole year. Well, me spendee thilty day on Island. Then come home. er Big time some more aliee samee, ae Kate she washce-washee, Mothel-in- Jaw she washee-washee, : too; alleesamee dlink lum. Jimhe eatee much, smokee much, cuss all timee, an’ no workee. Kate and mothel-in-law tell me gittee out. Call me big blute. Say nv. g. j Me cuss alice samee Jim. Eatee big much, smokee heap, do no more washee-washce. : _ Kate want me washee-washee. Me say no more washee. Me allee samee ’Mellican man. Meallee samee like Jim. Eatec, smookee, sleepee. a es “Mothel-in-law she take stickee. Meknockee herdown, Me fightee allec samece like Jim. Jim he say: “Bully boy.” i Me give Jim dollee. Jim/ie likee me bely much. Me give Jim ’nothel dollee. Jim he lovee me. Say: ‘Bully boy, glass eye.” ‘ Me gittee heap dlunk. Allee samee Jim. We good fliends now. Saby? Big Hose Oh! much big time. Me no washee washee; Kate she no washee-washee; mothel-in-law no ee CE SIERS _ Jim no washee- -wasbee; nobody washee, "Most : ¥ _. THE DIME DIALOGUES. Me allee samee "Mellican man. Wifee want be boss, ail light; : letee her be boss, letee her do washee-washee, too. ’Mothel in- Jaw want stay, she do allee samee likee wife. Bymby money all gone, then wifee she washec- washee. Allee samee do mothel in-law. ; Me smokee, eatee, sleepee. Allee samee Jim. Jimee he bully boy, on’y he likee me too muchee. He oe eye on me all time. He want money-bag. He gittee up head Hop Wung got stay up all night. Me no foolee. Some day me gittee money-bag on sly, then skipee out. Gittee on tlain, say: . ‘Here go son- of- a-gun San ’Flisco,” allee samee Mellican man, you bettee! (Hait.) SCREEN DOORS. Characters :—MR. GLEN, Mrs. Gren, Krrry MuLroon, : Jos SWINGLE. Scrnn I.—Sitting-room. Mrs. GLEN arranging furniture. — Mr. GLEN opens sercen door, which should be at back of stage, or in plain vicw of audience. Mr. Gun. . (Outside of door.) Nellie! I saw some lovely new dress goods up at— Mrs. Gunn. Do come in, Harry! Mr. G. Haven't time, dear, I was just going to say— Mrs. G. Mercy sakes, Harry! you're letting in a perfect — drove of flies, and J try so hard to keep them out. Why can’t you speak through the screen. I presume that’s what they — made them for, ‘(R. GLEN enters, slamming screen door.) Mr. G. They were made expressly to torment men’s lives out of their business-racked bodies. “No! I'll not talk through them! It’s bad enough to be yelling, Hello! and mumbling gibberish at’a hole in the wall, half the day, with the tele- - phone, while I’m at the office. When C speak to my wife I want to look at her. Am Ia prisoner to speak through bars? ora fool of a base-ball catcher with a cage on? [I wish there wasn’t a screen door on the face of the earth! We don’t have — a minute’s peace from May till December, I wish I had hold of the fellow who invented the things; I’d shake him out of his boots! } Mrs. G. He might prove to be a larger man than yourself, Mr. G. All the better! All the better! I’d have a chance to work off some of my wrath. ‘Mrs. G. Now, Harry, what's the use of talking so? You Tike to have things nice as well as I do, but, man-like, are not Vd like very tl them. He SCREEN DOORS. — willing to put up with a bit of inconvenience for the sake of comfort. Yet, one has to. We were notintended to live like nvages, and if we do not we've got to be constantly striving nd worrying, Now / don’t ever see one hour that I’m not working—yes, and hard, too, to beautify our home. Mr.G. Well, 1 wish you’d find time to give a fellow a “smile, cnce in a while. You fuss and worry more than there is any use of. IfI’d wanted simply a housekeeper, I could have hired some hard-fisted girl to wait on me. I married rou because I loved you, and wanted your companionship. Wo years ago you were the ‘‘sweet girl graduate,” but now your face is always puckered up into the frown of a disquieted nd unhappy wife. : Mns. G. Oh, Harry! you are too awfully, awfully provok- ing! The minute l say one word about your being careful, ou go off talking about me being disagreeable. I can’t belp t; and I think you are selfish and ungrateful. (Zhrows her- gt inta a chair, sobbing.) _ Mr. G. Humph! A sight of comfort a married man can take. Can’t try to tell you about a new dress without your - erying over the moon, or nobody knows what. I ought to have been at the office halfan hour ago. (Hvit.) (Outside.) I suppose I can speak through the screen, if that’s what will make you happy. rs. G. Oh, dear! What’s the use trying to be under- _ stood by such unreasonable beings? I don’t doa thing but try to please, and he is just contrary enough to be angry, in- stead. I’m sure I hate the screen doors as much as he does. I'd like to know why Ishouldn’t. They keep me jumping every three minutes in the day, and no one but me ever shuts them. Well, I can’t sit here. He’ll expect his toast and pud- ding for dinner as much as though I was not the girl gradu- te, Hard-fisted, indeed! If he had to oversee Kitty Mulroon half a day, he’d see clearer than he does. Hasn’t sense enough o know that one will do for love what money wouldn’t hire. Just as if any one would wear themselves out as I do— a (Enter Karrry.) é Kirry Mutroon. Axin’ yer pardin mistress, for disturb- yer illegant flow of spaches, but, phat will 1 be at nixt? The dishes is done, as ye telled me, and the cat’s ate half the -erame for the puddin’, and the turreen that bad the praties in _ is all broke to bits. I jist set it down on the flure to see if the poodle would like a taste, for faith ye telled me to give — he baste a little of phat iver he loikes. He tock a bit of the mate and the eggs, and I set’emaway— Se Mrs. G. Good gracious! Are you a fool, to set away vict- als that the dog has been at? andon my nice china, too? Dear! ead fi X eG Ba ahs Sy K. Divila bit a fool av ye plaze, nor a nayger, aither, to i 88 THE DIMM DIALOGUES, be insulted; nayther a baste of a dog that I should know phat iver he loikes by tastin’ of it mesilf. So, as I was tillin’ — ye, I sct down the turreen, and was a-workin’ brisk, as ye -telled ine, and a-singin’ me bist, as ig me habit, whin, all of a suddin, I sect me fut slap into the dish and it broke loike glass; and it cut me fut and, bedad, I was jist as astonished as ye’d a-bin, yersilf, and that’s the truth. Yecan take the dish - out of me wage, but faix! ’'d loike to know whose to ricom- _ pense me for hirtin’ me fut, bad ’cess to kapin’ a dog! Mrs. G. The dog is all right, if you only had a little more sense. As for taking anything outof your wages, it is simply absurd, You don’t earn your salt, anyhow. And when I en- gage a girl I count the cost beforehand, whether I can afford ee the luaury of help. Say no more about it. Help me drive | | out these flies; then I shall have to send you for more cream. By Harry must have his pudding. "ee a K. Faix, but Lixpected ye’d take the head off me about +. Ge the dish, and I got me spirit up to match it; but, if ye’re aisy, troth I can be aisy, too, and as me dad says to me—Katy! be aisy, and if ye can’t be aisy, thin be as aisy as ye kin. So, _ here goes for the flies. (Opens the door and flourishes apron at co the flies.) ee Mrs. G. Goodness alive! Katy, you are letting in more = than you drive out! (Shuts the door.) j K. Begorra! what will ye do thin? Will ye make the botherin’ bastes crawl through the scrane, loike me dad makes — the pig go back through the hole he got out at? Ef ye’d lave 7em in and Jet ’em starve thimsilves a few days they’d crawl ‘through aisier, an’ hurry off to the nabors’ for a faste. ; Mrs. G. Katy, you tire me with your talk. Think more and say less, een: : K, Arrah! mistress, that’s phat they ail tills me, till I’m — loike to die for a chance to ixpress mesilf. Why, ef I lived to be as ould as Methuselar, I’d niver git said phat T’m thinkin’ already, widout iver thinkin’ ony more, bedad! Mrs. G. “‘‘ A wise head keeps @ close mouth.” K. Yis! and ain’t I tellin’ Ido that same—only spakes half I thinks? ~ Pee ge oe Mrs. G. We will drive the flies slowly and carefully to the door; then open it suddenly and they will all go out. (Hands Kitty newspaper with which they drive the flies near the door. Kitty gives a spring and a yell, and opens the door.) Now, git out wid ye, ye pests av the shanty! Mrs. G. Oh, Katy! why are you so noisy? You scare them all back! Here, hold the door open and I'll drive them Sout, alone. (Zakes both papers and flourishes them.) There! — That will have todo. Now we must see about dinner, for Harry must have a nice one. (Hvit.) | : : (Curtain.) } Wee SCREEN DOORS, OD Scene Il.—Room same as before. Mrs, GuEN seated. Enter Mr. Guen and Jos Swineun, an uncouth country youth. Mr. G. ih Nelli! Dinner ready? flere is an old friend ef mine, from down in the country. Mrs. Glen, Mr. Swin- (Introduces. Jos bows awkwardly. Mrs. GLEN offers = aN Hope you have an ample dinner for two hungry / men. Mrs. G. Any friend of yours .s always a welcome guest, and I think we have an ample dinner for several hungry men. Mr. G. (Aside.) That’s a dear! Expected to find you cross. I'll talk through the screen door, in future. Jos Swinerm. As mam’ says—“‘ Dinner’s good enough what they is of it, and plenty of it sich as it is,” and that’s. my philosophy. Mrs. G. Come, dinner is ready! ; (Mr. and Mrs. GLEN go through screen door, holiding vt open alittle for Jos, who lingers to inspect door. ‘As soon as he 8 through, Mx. G. closes door carefully, but Jos returns to get handkerchief from his hat. Leaves door open. Mrs. G. closes at from outside. Jo hurries forward, tries to open door wrong way. Calls.) : Jos. Guess you'll hey tew let me outen these consarned — traps. I’m caught like a woodchuck in a deadfall. (Mr. G. laughs heartily ; opens the door. JoB dodges through.) (Enter Krrry.) K. There, now, Kitty Multoon! yer free to take a decent brith of air. Don’t I ish I was the foine leddy? “Wooden’t I ate fust and lave the ithers to wait? Well! well! We must all crape fust and thin walk, . Isnt me face as. swate and me _ voice as foineas me mistress’s? Yis, bedad, they bees, and I'll ~ hould me head that high that folks will know I’m dacent to ». filla best place, and thin whin some rich man falls in love wid me swate face, won't Kitty Mulroon be in ber illemint! (Voice ‘calls, ‘* Kitty ?) Oh, bad luck to their impudence! It's 4 Kitty !” here; Kitty !” there. The divil take Kitty! No; I mane the divil take the friends of Kitty! (Zit.) ; (Enter Mr. and Mrs, G.fand Jos. Mr. G. carefully closes door, JOB eyes tt suspiciously.) Mr. G. (Zo Joz.) Now, Vil have to leave you to be en- ‘ tertained by Mrs. Glen. If she does not amuse you, Kitty will. (Jos still examining sereen door ) Mr. G. (ToMrs. G.) Really, Nell, Tam sitmid he will spoil. your day, but I could not get rid of him without being rude, and he was so glad to see me, and the poor dunce looked sO ees ee pee standing ona corner, eating peanuts, en ¥ _ these men! 90 ‘(HE DIME DIALOGUES. Mrs. G, (Aséde.) I will do my best to make him enjoy himself, and [ don’t doubt I shall be amused, Jos. Say! be these things much good to a feller? Mr. G. (Laughs.) Why, yes; they are the nicest things in the world. Don’t you see there isn’t a fly in the room? Jos. Why, yas, I dew notice, now you speak on it. I thought the room was awful still and nice; but, I swan, the fact is, everything in the city seems to run on greased wheels, — so slick that I don't try to reckon on nothin’. I jest open my mouth and shet my eyes and swaller all they tell me. Mr. G In the country J should want to keep my mouth shut, at this time of the year. You must be just swarming with flies down there. j Jos. Jiminy Jinks! I should think so! Mother catches quarts of ’em, every day, and she says, every time one dies a dozen come to the funeral, I’m a notion I’d like to buy some of these ’ere contrivances, if they diden’t cost tew much. But, I'd hev to learn to open ’em. Id be as bad gittin’ shut in as I was when I was a little feller. I got in the closet where mother kept presarves. I had to yell for her tew let me out, and 1 swan she wasen’t no ways the one I wanted to see most. The scare she gave me, top of what I was already enjoyin’, kept me away from that closet, you bet, for a hull year. Mrs. G. Harry doesn't find it any trouble to open them, but it seems hard for any one but me to shut them. Jos. Dew tell! Wal, V’ll study on ’em while you’re gone, and I shouldn’t be surprised ef I took one hum with me. Reckon mam’ will open her eyes, for she’s alers said she’d never put on no airs, city nor country. Mr. G. Well, good-by. (Heit. Leaves door open.) Mrs. G. (Springs “orward and slams it shut.) Oh, dear, { Scene III,.—Mrs. Gren and Jos SwinciE conversing. Mrs. GLEN sewing. Jos. Wal! ye see, I hain’t never been to the city much. I | was a sorter fifth calf tew hum, and hed to rough it—like a - chicken hatched in the fall; ever see one? Allers goth’ ’round -hollerin’ peep! peep! peep! lookin’ mis’able and feelin’ out of place. Icould sympathize with ’em, I could. Jake and eorge was smarter than me, and it took about all the spare money dad could raise to start ’em in business, and then they took sick and died, and their wives are enjoyin’ the cash, . When they named me Job I expect they thort I'd be patient, and soIbe, But, l’m lookin’ round, uabeknown to dad and — -REEN DOORS. — mam’, to see ef they hain’t a better place than Beantown, where they hain’t got it sot down again’ me, not bein’ so smart as some folks. And when I’m out of my time I'll set sail. a a Mrs. G. Have you much education? aie Jos. Wal, you might say no. I’ve went to school a good bit off and on, but I never seemed to care much about study- in’. I hearn tell from a feller that if ye had brass enough, and a few brains with a little ready cash, ye could go it with the best of ’em. (Jumps and slaps his fuce.) Jiminy! Your flies hain’t got much manners. Mother says the best way she ever found to git along with flies was to feed ’em good and then they hain’t so sassy. Guess you'll hev to go to feedin’ yourn. (Mrs, GuEn laughs. Jos examines screen door. Opens and shuts it several times.) Why, seems to shet easy enough, if a feller gits the hang of it. 3 ~ Mrs. G@. Oh, the door is all right, if people could cnly think to shut it. ? : Jos. But, that’s the trick, Is’pose. Dad says I acted as if I'd allers been raised in a saw-mill, ‘cause J never kin think to shet a door. I guess I'll talk it over with mam’ about these ’ere doors before I git one, for, like as not she’d chuck it out inter the wood-shed, or use it tew dry apples on. That’s jest what she’d use it for; and if she should I’d wish I'd saved my money to buy a fiddle with. I’ve always wanted one, but mam’ set down her foot, and it’s a No. 8, that she wouldn't stan’ it; said it would give her the new-rolgy to hear me practicin’, Wal, I guess I’ll git started homeward bound. I want to look around tua city a spell before the cars start. Mrs. G. Why, Harry expected you to stay to tea. ; Jos. Did, hey! Wal, I guess Led] git over the dispint- ment. (Jumps up and cateics a fly) Ah, ha! my fine feller! Didn’t know I was a fly trap, did ye? Didn’t know ye was foolin’ ‘round Job Swingl«! (Verrifie crash outside, as of breaking dishes; then a wild screech.) Gosh all hemlock! What on airth— : (Door bursts open and in rushes Krvry, in great fright, throwing i arms around Jos.) KK. Ooh, an’ Hiven save me! It’s a mad dog itis, wid a - eat, an’a snake in his mouth, an’ a p’liceman wid a club at the windy, an’ he’s bit Misther Glen, an’— Mrs. G! A mad dog! and he has bitten Mr. Glen—my Harry. Oh, oh! (Rushes through sereen door.) Jos, Oh, T say, gal, durn it,-let up, or PN— (Krrry | a, still closer.) Good Lord ’a’ massey, gal! Don’t! don't: ; : : aor : _ XK. It’s my protector ye bees! 111 niver let eee n Jos, There—there! Jist let me breathe. Ill be yer pro- tector! I’m a protectionist! I’!—Vl— j : a THE DIME DIALOGUES, K. Yis, me honey! A mad dog, wid a big black cat an’ a — snake in his mouth, an’ a p’liceman at the windy, wid a club —sure, an” ye’d niver have the heart tolave me. (Jos makes a@ dive at the sereen door; it is burst open and torn from tts hinges.) : . Jos, (Outside.) Whoop! Hooray! Good-by, Bridget O’Racket! Adoo! K. Bridget O’Racket, indade! To the divil wid ye! Ochone, an’ isn’t this a devastatin’ day! Ivery dish on the table broke, an’ the scrane dure open to let in the flies! Oh, won't mistress ache to bate me to an apparition! It’s on the fly I am, sure, for there’s no flies on Kitty Mulroon! " (Beit and curtain.) STANDARD RECITATIONS, CONTENTS OF No, 24, Price, 12 cents by mail; J end % cont stamps taken, Concepcion De Arguello. — Bret Harte Esjogiom, on South Carolina. Rebert Y. Hayne,...... The Brewing of Soma. Jolin eee Whtbler isc sas vs. aa The Wee, Wee Bairnie.. ... Destiny. .T. B. Aldrich... Without Me.. South Carolina and’ Massa- chusetis. Daniel Webster.. Burglar Bill What My Lover Said. Homer Greene....... ol The Curse to Labor. T, Lon iatie Powderly.. The New Hail Oliver Wendell Holmes ...18 Reuben James. James Jef- frey Roche i 13 Reply to Mr. Webster. “Hob- ert Y. Hayne. .. Vas Marriage a aes Charles Folien Adams.... .15 The Soul’s Farewell to the Body, Ella ao Wil- BOR sep icy ss ee ere cd A Woman's Heart.) 520° 27.116 The Munstrel’s Curse, Xnd- wig Uhland ....... 17 Visions of Joan of Are and Bishop of Beauvais. De Quincey. wesees, 1B The Ola Cornet Player. a P. Bococ of ech of Icilius to ‘the omens. Alfieri. ....... The Watch of Boon Island. Mrs, Celia Thaxter,........ 21 Rejoinder to Mr. casleie Daniel Webster.. 4 +88 o Ireland. J.B, Killen... 194 eee not a Christian, A. he Forging of the “Anchor. Be POTRUSOM. 25." peseae em The selections from Brete Harte, Whittier, Aldrich and Mrs. ColaR ®haxter are used by kind permission of Houghton, Mifiiin & CO. fe E 6 | Jim. 21 | Speech of Shrewsbury bee fore Queen Elizabeth. Schiller..... And then $ "James ‘Sofitey Roche... The Veil Tale Heart. " Bdgar ARGU: POAs ies becens The Convict’s Hopeless Lot. An Ex-convict........ The Star of Bethighem. Henry Kirke Wh-ce........ at Success in Life. James A. Garfield... The: Hindoo’s Search’ ‘for Truth Rascascmrenee The Spiritualist. “elas Wipes 38 Last Charge of Ney. J.T. Headley........ i The Song of the ‘Headlight, Hardy “Sackson. One of the Signers, Greenleaf Whittier. .. sa Sapa Thomas Car- yi6. 5. Farewell to Nature. Gordon Hake.. James Whitcomb RCY ses cas ated Grant’s Strategy. Veazeys. ) 3 Clifford 1 or eeceree face. ‘Thomas Mines Mistress Sunbeam,” Brostiigss cde Mother’s Prayer... .... Much ado, Margaret EB Sangster. Mad ~ Anthony’s " Charge. Alex. N, Easton.. peat se Again, A.A. Procter.47 nl ane Day ‘at ‘a hime.’ “Helen Jackson (H, H) Orly a Word. (Adelaide A. PVOCUCh cass Off Brenton Reet, September 9th, 1890. Louisa sus ieee torsereeeee B Our Mother’s Apron Strings. We iteHltog se ter cck 8G Penn’s Monument, Burdette.... Pickin’ Cinders on the Dock. .46 Rebuked. Lillie E. Barr, .88 Sorrow. John Volk.... .. 46 The Wine that Conquers Care. Gen. Wm. Haines Lytle... .48 The Truth. Archibald Lampman.. ae oO The Poor Man’s Wife........ 38e The Old School Clock. John Boyle O Henly wr anacaee re “Engine Driver’s Story. Wilk kins. he uae of Van Bibber’a Rock. Emma D. Banke,...32 The last Milestone. Jose- phine: Pollard... 15.30). The Fellow in Greasy Jeans. Charles IF’, Lummis.. - The Ships that sailed away, Hester Crawford Dorsey ..28 The Life Brigade. Minnie Mackay.. oe eee 23 ‘oyle 24 The Dakilé Snake. O'Reilly... .. The Word of the King: Mary H. Krout:**- 19 The Czar and_ the Bridge- keeper's Wife. (Count Shapolsky......... 19 Two Poor Old Souls, ‘Mar. garet Kytinge...... The Woman-Soul, Court landt Palmer. ...... aa The.Secret Mourner, Dawson... 15 Tootsie Brant. H. ic rey The Huguenot Lovers. As Recited by ae Jane Stuart.. oe 3 The | Drunkard’s ‘Lament. ALD. Bakerniy 1S What is Good. John O'Reilly... Woman’ 8 Rights, Xmas Eve Balla James. STANDARD RECITATIONS, ) _Price, 12 cents by ee - Anvil of God’s Word, The.. And So, Good-By! WNatha "DD. Urner.. ip ondhs area died Annie. Wm. Ly dees “Are the Children Safe at Home?” Liilie E. Barr,. 4 Best Sewing-Machine, The... 3 Bedrock Philosophy mae iccee 10 Borrowed Troubles. Mrs.8.L. Schenck (Mrs.. Thornton) 21 Blind Soldier, The. Mary A. ze, Stansbury . Mesa Aten Best Helper, The.. Before the Gate Howells...... Broken Toy D. Urner. Ben Hafed. Wm. Whitehead 8 Battle of Beal an’ Duine. Walter Scott... .. Captain’s Dream, T POW UANR sas a: seiner ele Could we but Teil. U Johneton,,...... ax Content. James W. Riley...17 _ Compensation. Celia Thaxter 17 City of the Living, The......19 sree eons, Children. Mary Bar Divine Talidby, The. Eugene Field. -16 Defence from’ ‘Impeachment. MEAN M es ard aadeee om Defence from the Charge “ot Tyranny. Robespierre..... 43 Drunkard’s Death, The. I. Hdgar Jones.... Do your Best. . ae ig 8 Bride, Th Bore Tae? Ws Oisies hace 46 Give Thanks fer what? W. F. Croffut. 84 In the Harbor. Geo. R. Sims 4 TWO pr Why. .55s52e0ki