.iUiflr I Ntoo ( .■Willi niuww ,, Witrs an«l .« you want will ho AMES' PUBLISHING CO., Clyde, Ohio- AMES' SERIES OF ANDARD AND MINOR DRAMA, No. 335. j Miller's * Daughter. {DEAMA.) WITH CAST OF CHARACTERS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS. ELATIVE 1'osiTKiXS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE S DESCRIPTION OK VXD TDK WHOLE OF THE STACK BUSINESS; CAREFULLY MARKED FROM THE MOST APPROVED ACTING COPY. PRICE 25 CENTS. CLYDE, OHIO : AMES' PUBLISHING CO, j*J $2£ No goods sent CO. D. Money MUST accompany all orders. r ALPHABETICAL LIST DF Ames' Edition nf Plays. •♦« svS&f ■♦■ FIFTEEN CENTS EACH UNLESS OTHERWISE MARKED. ^ 294 2 164 39 43 100 125 89 113 226 14 321 272 160 268 310 161 60 152 279 173 143 162 255 300 311 283 117 52 76 141 26 191 194 3 9 261 46 227 211 251 163 91 36 34 229 298 223 SI 85 83 196 '29 2"8 301 IK '280 M. F. DRAMAS. Arthur Eustace, 26c 10 4 A Desperate Game 3 2 After Ten Years 7 5 A Life's Revenge 7 5 Arrahde Baugh 7 5 Aurora Floyd 7 2 Auld Robin Gray 25c 13 8 Beauty of Lyons 11 2 Bill Detr'.^k 7 3 Brae, the Poor House Girl.... 4 4 Brigands of Calabria 6 1 Broken Links 8 4 Beyond Pardon 7 5 Conn; or, Love's Victory 11 3 Clearing the Mists 5 3 Claim Ninety-Six (96) 25c 8 5 Dora 5 2 Driven to the Wall 10 3 Driven from Home 7 4 Dutch Jake 4 3 EastLynne 8 7 Emigrant's Daughter 8 3 Fielding Manor... 9 6 Gertie's Vindication 3 3 Grandmother Hildebrand's Legacy, 25c 5 4 Gyp, Tne Heiress, 25c 5 4 HauDted by a Shadow 8 2 Hal Hazard, 25c 10 3 Henry Granden 11 8 How He Did It 3 2 Hidden Treasures 4 2 Hunter of the Alps 9 4 Hidden Hand 15 7 Lights and Shadows ot the Great Rebellion, 25c 10 5 Lady of Lyons 12 5 Lady Audley's Secret 6 4 Lost in London 6 4 Man and Wife 12 7 Maud's Peril 5 3 Midnight Mistake 6 2 Millie, the Quadroon 5 6 Miriam's Crime 5 2 Michael Erie 8 3 Miller of Derwent Water 5 2 Mistletoe Bough 7 3 Mountebanks (The) 6 2 New York Book Agent 7 3 Old Honesty 5 2 Old Phil's Birthday 5 3 Outcast's Wife. 12 3 Out on the World 5 4 Oath Bound 6 2 Painter of Ghent' 5 3 Penn Hapgond 10 3 Pelegand Peter. 25c 4 2 Poacher's Doom 8 3 Pheelim O'Rookes' Curse 8 3 NO. M. F. 5 Phyllis, the Beggar Girl 6 3 110 Reverses 12 6 45 Rock Allen 5 3 79 Spy of Atlanta, 25c 14 3 275 Simple Silas" 6 3 266 Sweetbrier 11 5 144 Thekla 9 4 318 The Adventuress 8 6 284 The Commercial Drummer.... 6 2 242 The Dutch Recruit 25c 14 3 67 The False Friend 6 1 97 The Fatal Blow 7 1 119 The Forty-Niners 10 4 304 The General Manager 5 5 93 The Gentleman in Black 9 4 314 The Haunted Alill 5 4 112 The New Magdalen 8 3 322 The Raw Remit 6 71 The Reward of Crime 5 3 306 The Three Hats 4 3 105 Through Snow and Sunshine 6 4 201 Ticket of Leave Man 9 3 293 Tom Blossom 9 4 193 Toodles 7 2 277 The Musical Captain 15 2 200 Uncle Tom's Cabin 15 7 2P0 Wild Mab 6 2 121 Will-o'-the-Wisp 9 4 41 Won at Last 7 3 192 Zion 7 4 TEMPERANCE PLAYS. *73 At Last 7 1 75 Adrift 5 4 187 Aunt Dinah's Pledge 6 3 254 Dot: the Miner's Daughter... 9 5 202 Drunkard [The] 13 5 185 Drunkar I 's Warning 6 3 189 Drunkard's Doom 15 5 IS I Fifteen Years of a Drunk- ard's Life 13 4 183 Fruits of the Wine Cup 6 3 104 Lost 2 146 Our Awful Aunt 4 4 53 Out in the Streets 6 4 51 Rescued 5 3 59 Saved 2 3 102 Turn of the Tide 7 4 '••> Three Glasses a Day 4 2 62 Ten Nights in a Bar-Room... 7 3 58 Wrecked 9 3 COMEDIES. 324 A D*y In A Doctor's Office... 5 1 168 A Pleasure Trip 7 3 136 A Le^'al Holiday * 3 124 An Afflicted Family 7 5 257 taught in the Act 7 3 248 Captured fi 4 178 Caste & The Miller's Daughter; -OR,- Bound in Honor. A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS- — BY — H. Jay Bibbs. TO WHICH IS ADDED lA DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUMES-CAST OF THE CHARACTERS-- ENTRANCES AND EXITS— RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS. if Entered according to the act of Congress in the year 1894, by AMES' PUBLISHING CO., in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. CLYDE, OHIO. AMES* PUBLISHING CO. j ' 9 TEE MILLERS DAUGHTER. 9 a}\ CAST OF CHARACTERS. £astl Lawrence, 1 An Aristocrat. Lord Harrington, J John Derwent Miller. Squire Thornton Lord Hyde Dickey Brown.. Humped Tom Black Joe Mountain Mag Countess Harrington Mrs. Derwent Lady Isabel Hyde Beauty Lynne MiIkCerani,} Tl ' e *•*'• Datt9J,t r Can be double I to play with five male, four female characters. fiSS&IS? 1 '} D " Ma feSSS? } a-** Mountain Mag. 1 n n „hJ*J Lady Isabel Hyde,/ DouhM TIME OF PLAYING -2 HOURS. SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS. ACT I. —The Miller's Cottage— A mo-teaged Home— "Elsie must marry Q qu : e thorn ton and save our home" — Mrs. D^rwent's doubts — Beautv and D ckev— "I » qi t bet gaed"— Flirtetion o the heart— 'A bnshrl and a pec't and a hug around the re^k"— Basil Lawrence and Elsie— The secret marriaere — "My storv is toH in the falling water ^f the o d mill streW— B auty and Basil— The wager— "Are y u nasty n'c ?" — Dickey's niotuie and the choeo ate drons — The telegram— "Beautv. 1> a. riend to Elsie— Beauty and the Squire— Dickey interferes— Elsie refuses to mar y Squire Thornton— Driven f o n home, with a f ather's curse. ACT II.— The mountain Witch— Squire Thornton secures her assistance— Basis .■>nd h ; s mother, Countess Harrington — The d mand — "I am married" — "A mi ler'g daughter"— A mother's resolve— "You are a, minor, the marriage is i legal"— The lailroad accident, in which Basilic injured— Dickey's letter — att mpted ab uction of Elsie— Beauty on han •— Rescue of Elsie— "Die you villain"— Death of Squire Thon - ton — "Oh heaven! he died with a lie on his lips " ACT III.— Home of Countess Harrington— The bell— Isabel and the Countess— "My one wish is that you become my son's wife" — Basil can't recall the past y.ar" — "'lis only a dream' —Elsie as Mile Cerani, attends the ball— Meets Basil— "My hus- band" — He tells her o^ his dream — The flower — Isabel and Mile — "You are an Adv n- tur ss"— "No, lam Basil Harrington's deserted wife"— Beauty and Dic'-ey— Lord Hyde proposes to Beauty — The old song, awikened memori:!!- — "Elsie, El-ie, my wife!"— Countess Harrington declares the marriage void— Despair of. Elsie— "I choose my wife, Elsie" — "Mother, I leave you forever ' ACT IV.— The Miller's cottage— Beauty at home— Beauty tells Elsie's story t) her father — "I curse her"— The vengence of heaven— Return of Elsie— B auty and Dickey — The unex' ected caller— Dickey on his knees— Elsie and Basil — "My wife, our marriage was legal— Dickey pronoses— "Do I crowd?" — The curse revoked, and Elsie and Basil are now "Bound in Honor." COSTUMES. Basil.— Act 1 t; Business suit and hat. Act 2nd; Same, with overcoat, light mustach. Act 3d; Blac'.tdroSi suit, flower in button hole. Act 4th; Business suit. bat. John Derwent.— Common sui f . Dickey Brown.— Country boy's suit and hat. Act 3d; Dress suit. Act 4th; Busi- nss suit. Squire Thornton.— Business suit, b'ack mustache, silk hat. Lord Hyde. — Old man, white hair and whiskers, dress suit. Humped Tom and Black Joe.— Rough suit, slouch hat and black whiskey. Elsie.— Act 1; House d r ess. Act 2nd; Same with hat and coat. Act 3d; Han 1- some ball c istume. Act 4th; Traveling dress, hat and eb»+. Beauty.— Act 1st; Short dre. Mrs. Derwent.— Common house dress. JMag.- Old dres , rei th wl, long white hair. TMP92-009278 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER : OK, Bound in Honor. ACT I. SCENE — Miller's cottage — Mr. and Mrs. Derwent discovered sitting at table, l. u. e. Mrs. Derwent. There! there! John, it's no use fretting about th? ^1 mill. Things are in a bad shape I know, but there is surely some ot 'er wav to meet our indebtedness beside this. John Derwent. That's a woman's reasoning. I see no other way, except by contracting this rich marriage. Squire Thornton has cl'iie Elsie the honor to offer her his hand, promising to release the mortgage if she accepts, and I have assured him she will. Slu can not see us go forth from here miserable beggars. Mrs. D. It seems so like selling the child. John, you seem to forget marriages are made in heaven; it is not for us to choose a husband for Elsie. Let her do that, guided by her own love and instinct. M\ D. Love and instinct are not safe guides. Girls of Elsie's disposition, do not know their own hearts. They are attracted to the rirst handsome face they me a t, be he villain or honest man. Why do I see so little of the child lately? Some change seems t> have come over her. Mrs. D. I have not noticed it. But you must remember shs is now a woman grown. Husband, do not compel her to wed the Squire against her will, for I know her pure young heart revolts at the idea. Kather than bring sorrow into her life, I would beg from door to door. "(rises Mr. D. Easy said, wife, but not so easy done. Mrs. D. And if she refuses — Mr. D. She dare notrefuse, duty will teach her better. My word is given to the Squire, I must and will keep the faith. Mrs. D. There is something about th it man, which I do not like* Are you sure he is strictly houest in his intentions? 4 THE MILLEB'S DAUGBTEB. Mr. D. I have always found Squire Thornton an honest man. Do you remember the mortage on the mill fell clue one year ago, when 1 went to him, stated our e'rcumstances, he kindly gave me one year longer. Mrs. D. Yes, with 10% intere -\ ro :i date and security on our little home. Ye*, I remember well. Mr. D. Tut! tut! Elsie will redeem the mortgage. Mrs. D. And if she refuses — Mr. D. Then by heaven, she's no child of mine. {exit, L. E. Mrs. D. And he will keep his word. His iron will is not to be broken. (exit, l. e. Enter, Beauty and Dickey, r., 1 e. — Beauty singing. Beauty. I won't be tagged. If there is one thing I hate, it's a tagger. Dickey. I like that— who's a tagger? Didn't you whistle me out when you went past our house. You're never satisfied unle s you have a beau on the string. Beau. Ha! ha! All I have to do is to whistle and they come. Oh! they lead me such a life. Auntie says I'm too young— too young! well I guess I'm old enough to know, (dances and sings) Hey there! old blushes! what do you think of that V Dick. I don't blush. Beau. No! Oh no! you're as red as a boiled lobster now. Oh! Dickey, you're such a nuisance — you're not in it. Dick. Who is then? 1 don't want to be. Beau. You're too bashful. Get tough, be a sport, anything, and uiHV be I might get stuck on you. Dick. I'm going right home. I won't be talked to in that way, 'it makes me feel bad. Beau. Baby ! baby ! come right hereto your mamma; scrooch up Teal close and I'll tell you something, (puts his arm around her waist) Oh! oh! see where you've got your arm? Dick. Oh! my, you put it there, didn't you? Now I am going home. Beau. Just put that right back there, I don't in the lea^t mind it. In fact I rather like it. Dicke}-, the man in the moon may be look- ing. Dick. He won't tell, (she tickles him) Don't do that, I've got heart disease. Beau. So have T, flirt ition of the heart. Oh! I've got it now. Look, catch me, I'm going to faint, inn — (business — he braces his back to her) Oh ! Diekey, that ain't the way. Say, Dick. (ivhispers Tick. Well. (song and dance introduced Beau. Look there Dickey, Mr. Lawrence and Miss Elsie are c fin- ing this way, arm in arm, that's the way — (puts his arm around hr.r waist— ditto both her's) Wouldn't the Squire feel jealous if he knew that? Dick. Say, I came up on him the other day, and I heard him sav, ''This green eyed monster is devouring me. By heaven, 1 will have her." I didn't know what he meant. Burn, [do! Oh! for someone to say that about me, I'd marry the muu o ) the spot, Sup ose you do— now savit after me. Now— (business, very tragisa i THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 5 Dick. But I ain't got no such a thing ailin' mo. Beau. No! you couldn't get up enough feeling. (comes hear him, he moves away Dick. Now j-ou stop. I nearly forgot — I must D3 going — I'm going fishinsr. Beau. Gee! that'll be jolly. I'm going along. Dick. No, I won't be tagged. (goes n THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Elsie. I'm half frightened, it seems like such a long leap to take n life for only t a miller's daughter. Won't I wake up and find it ill a dream ? Basil. It is all true, mv wife ; I will remain as true as the stars in neaven. It would be easier for me to die, than be false to you. Elsie. This pretty ring, it remin Is me of that song : The vows were all forgotten, The ring asunder broke. I can hear it now. The winds are repeating it. Basil. It is only your fancv. Elsie. Basil, I had a terrible dream last night. I could not sleep for hours, when at last my eyes closed, I found myself by the "old mill stream ;" I thought I had been driven there by some pain too great for words. I flung mvself into the stream, and Oh Basil ! I felt myself drowning, I felt my body floating, then sinking. The water tilled my eyes, mv ears — I died. In my sleep, I went through all the pain of death ! But mv last thought was of you. I called for you, but you did not come. Oh ! Basil, do you think it will ever come true ? Basil. No Elsie, you think too much of thess things. Elsie. Perhaps I do, but it seems my story is told in the falling pouring fla tery in your ear. It's the way of all pretty children. They all like it. Beau. Say, you tire me out. Because you expect to get Elsie, is r,o reason why you should soft soap the relation. I don't want your horrid old compliments. Enter, Dickey, r. e., unseen. Squire. How fortunate we are alone. Now you little battery, you shall kiss me. (business — Beauty screams and kick* Dick. No! she don't. I'm here to protect her. Squire. What right sir! have you to interlere? Dick. The right of an honest man, and that Squire Thornton you are not! Beau. That you ! So glad you've come, Dickey. Carry me oat, I can't breathe the same air with that man, he is too vile. (exit, Dickey and Beauty, r. e. Squire. Drat that brat! However there is no time to fool wicli such small game, when there is better to be had, it my cards work well. I have brought the mortgage papers, and to-day seals the fate of the occupants of this little cottige. I have no fear of the answer, they will all sell themselves for gold, every one of them. Enter, Mr. and Mrs. Derwent, and Elsie, l. b. Mr. D. Our duty. Squire! Squire. Glad.to see you looking well. That little business of ours must be settled to-day. I shall wait no longer, 1 have brought the papers and am ready to fulfill my part of the contract. Mr. D. And I produce the child that she may speak for herself. Squire. That answer is — Elsie. No! no! father forgive me. I cannot. Oh! I can not! Squire. Curse her! What does this mean? Girl, do you know the consequences, your parents will be beggars. Elsie. Aye, I know it well. Mercy, I can not ask, for I fe 1 that you have none. THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. » Mr. D. What means this? Speak child, I command you tospeak. Elsie. I dare nor, I care not, I am bound in honor. Mr. D. You refuse — Elsie. Yes. Mr. D. Then you cease to be a child of mine. Wife, bring me the Bible, (business) Listen ! Elsie Derwent, born Aug. 10th, died May 22nd. Now sjo, and mav the curse ot a heart broken father to a disobedient child fo'low you. Elsie. No, no! father. I'll go, but t»kc back the curse, take it back. (Mrs. Dkhwent goes toward Elsie Mr. D. Stan 1 back; don't touch her. Mrs. D. You'll forgive her, you must John. Mr. D. I forgive her! No, never while sun and moon shine. I shut my heart against her forever, it will hold her no more, and you must cast her out of your heart as I do. [forbid you to s;>eak tc her, to go near her. If you meet her, turn away your head. Enter, Beauty, r. e., whip in her hand. Mrs. D. Mv only child, how cm I do it? Mr. D. Then choose between her nnd me. We have been hus- band and wife for twenty years. We've never quarreled in all that time, and will you allow her, who is false to us both, to separate us? Mrs. D. No John ! you against all the world, thougu it break my heart. Mr. D. We are childless now — you and I. (business — to Elsie) W >j don't you go? Elsie. Heaven ! this is hard to bear. Have I no friend left? Betu. Y"es, I don't ask an explana ion, but wherever you go, I'll go vvirh you. I believe you a true, ho est woman. This is some more of your devilish work, Squire Thornton. I can find no words lhat could describe how 1 loathe you — (Squire moves toward her) Stand back, come one step nearer and you will feel the stinj; of this whip. Squire. Curse von— von little devil. Bean. Old satan ! Don't you feel good now? Come Elsie — Elsie, (business) Father! mother! won't you siy good-bye? Mr. D. No! I have nothing to say to you. Why do you linger? Why don't you go? I've seen enough of your treacherous facet Go ! go ! and take my curse as a legacy, it is all I have to leave you. Now go — I say go! Business— Elsie and Beauty turn L. — Mr. Derwent holds his wife on his arm, as he motions Elsie to go. CURTAIN. END OF ACT I. ACT II. SCENE. — Mountain Mag's cabin in the Mountain. Enter, Squire, r. e. Squire. At last the game has been played into my* hands. Little Fou thought fair Elsie, that I should receive the little missive in- tended for Basil Lawrence. But monev and influence will conau.-r 10 THE MILL EM'S DAUGHTER. where simple reason fails. Ha! ha! Let's see. "Dear Basil: I have been driven from home and am now an outcast. They tried to compel me to wed the Squire and I refused. But the secret that I am your wife has not been divulged. 'Tis safe ! Basil, you bound me in honor not to reveal it, and the heavens will fall before I break the oath. 1 pass over the mountains to-night toward Kashleigh. May heaven protect me. Your wife, Elsie." So that's the little secret which kept us apart. Basil Lawrence how I hate you ! I have set my heait on posses-ing that girl, and by heaven, she shall yet be mine, by fair means of foul. I have it. Mountain Mag must set her human hounds at work to-night, when she passes over the mountain. She dare not refuse, 1 know of some dark deeds that might be traced to her door. I wonder if she is in her den. (goes to cabin door and knocks Mag. Who's there? Squire. One, who is on a little matter of business. Enter, Mountain Mag, l. e. Mag. Ah ! it's the pretty Squire, the gude kind Squire, and what do ye want a botherin a decent ou Id woman this mornin'. Yes! yes! it's yer fortune towld ye want. Ah! I see gude luck fer ye. Here's a line crosses — hum ! hum ! ye don't prosper wid the lady of yer choice, but naver mind, she will yet be yours. There's a light haired — Squire. Bother your harangue. Go to the silly fools of the village with that trash. I've a bigger game on hand Mag, and there's gold in it! (business Mag. Gold ! ha ! ha ! Would ye have me stain me hands for gold. Ha! ha! ha! Oh! I love gold, bright yellow gleaming gold. Squire. Come, come Mag, you're not growing babyish. Ye used to do a nice neat job, and none ever lived to confront you. The Lord of Charldon — Mag. Hold, Squire Thornton, what do ye know? Squire. Oh! nothing! nothing! Where did you bury him? Mag. He lays in yonder pool along side of t le girl I killed for ye. Do ye remember that dark night? Squire. Woman, won't you ever forget not to mention that in my presence. I forbid it, 1 say I lorbit it. Mag. In course I won't, if ye don't like it; but the job, how much gold ? Ha ha ! ha ! Squire. One hundred pounds if you kidnap the Miller's daughter as she passes over these mountains to-night. Do you consent? Mag. In course I do. One hundred pound of gold. Ha! ha! I'll kill her for two-hundred, what do ye say? Squire. No devil! your hands have already made you thrice a murdress. How many crimes do you want to answer for? Mag. As miny as the likes of ye'd give me gold lor. (business — (Squire goes towards her) There, there Squire, ye'd better notstroike me, the by's might be a bit troublesome. Squire/ Fool! What proof can you give, you will not prove a traitoress ? Mag. A thief's word of honor. Are ye satisfied? Squire. I must be. Now, I'll give you fifty down and the other fifty when I see your fair prisoner. That's fair enough! (gives money) Is that correct? THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. ** Mag. Yis! but ye'd better no forgit the otlier titty. If ye do, I'll get even. I always do. Ha! ha! Squire. I'll not forger it. To-night set your human hounds fat work. Black Joe ami Humped Tom are the most reliable. Are they here ? Mag. Thira by's allays be ridy for a nice clane job like this. Hadn't ye bitter give us a shillin ler a drop of the crature, to brace one up. Squire. There take it. (gives money) Now mind, do not hurt the girl. Mag. Don't ye fear, the pay ain't big enough. In co'rse we'll be rale gintle. Jf tint's all, ye'd better be going, the stage coach be a « omin' up thar. Gude bye me honey. I'll do the job and git the yellow gold. Ha! ha! "it's no cari'n how it comes, so I git it. Ha! ha ! (exit, l. e. Squire. That hag would sell her soul for gold. How well she would like to trade on my secret. But she dare not do it. I did not kill that girl,. she was growing troublesome and— well, she disap- peared. Ha! ha! The stage coach ! I must not be seen. I'll con- Ueal myself until it passes. Enter, Basil and Countess, r. e. Basil. Mother! why did you not send for me? Countess. There was not time, besides we did not know exactly wl ere you were, at Lord Harry's or Blounts. Basil. Father dead; I can scarcely realize he is gone. Conn. Yes, and you are now Lord Harrington. You wonder why I've come here? I came to tell you a story. I prefer you 'should hear it from my lips. It is a short one. "When your father succeeded to the title and estates, there was not much leftfto keep up the grand old name. You have heard it often said, the last Earl ot Harrington was a spendthrift and a gambler, and it was always my impression that your lather would fodow iu his footsteps. Until late years my influence kept him trom it. But even that I am not too proud to confess, lo-t it's strength. He went from bad to worse, and when there was no ready money to be derived trom the estate, he borrowed. His chief creditor is old Lord Hyde, himself a gambler. However a successful one. Just one week ago to-day he was present at the death-bed of your father, and promised that if an alliance were made between you and his daughter, her dower should be amply sufficient to onee more raise the house of Harrington, second to none in England. To protect the honor ot our house, you must consent to this alliance. Basil.. Honor! Mother! Can a man under such a guise as you hold out to me, be justified in consenting? Why, I've never seen the girl. It is unjust to her and unfair to bind me so. No! Coun. The whole honor, fortune and glory of our house now rests on your shoulders. It depends on you whether one of the mosc noble families falls into obscurity, or once more finds a place in k's foremost ranks. Basil. I know it — I know it. Coun. And you are prepared to meet the responsibility? Basil. No! no! mother. Oh! vvhy did you make such plans? I can not meet them; I should have told j-ou before. Coun. There is no other attachment? 12 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Basil. Yes, the strongest. I am married. Coun. Married ! I will not believe it. It is not true. Basil. Yes, I should have made it known belore. (shows certifi- cate) There! is that not true enough? Coun. Anything rather than this. You have spoiled your life. Oli! my son! Tell me you have married an aristocrat. Our house has never made a messilliance, they liave always chosen wives from, their own class; you have done the same? Basil. My wife is a ladv in as much as she is the gentlest of women, but she is not by birth, and her face is her only fortune. Coun. Then why did you marry her? Basil. Because t loved her. Coun. 1 thought as much. I am sorry my son is sentimental. Now tell me the facts and spare me the love. Basil. Mother, don't be so hard, so cruel. O'i ! what will you say, when you learn that I have married a "miller's daughter." Coun. A "miller's daughter!" A splendid alliance ! The last of the Harringtons and a miller's daughter! Have you lost your brains or your senses? Basil. Nei her, only my heart. Coun. Then this is the end of such foolishness — {tears certificate) Tour marriage is illegal and invalid in the eyes of the law. Se: it aside. Basil. I would not do such a base dishonorable deed to save nv life. Our marriage is sacred and valid enough iti the sight of heaven. Coun. This contest is useless. I ho'd the power and E intend to use it. The law gives me control over you until you are of a e. Basil. Then as soon as the three months are gone, I shall make all possible haste to marry Elsie. Coun. Basil, I want you to make me a promise, come home with me for three months, and let this wretched marriage rem.ii.i a secret for thnt time. Come, promise your mother ! Basil. When 1 have told my wife. Coun. No, come now — you can write to her. Will you — Basil. Yes mother. I'll come and promise to keep the secret, on the faith of a gentleman. Coun. (aside) A three months time. May heaven do something to interfere in that time. If not, I shall follow out the wonting of my idea. Basil. Come mother, if we expect to catch the London Express, we must hurry. (exit, l. k. Squire, (coming down stage) Illegal ! so much easier the job. Ah ! she shall yet call me Lord and Master. Then won't I pay back all these scowls. Ha! ha! Enter, Mag, l. e. Mag, you old wretch, you have heard it all. Mag. Didn't I tell ye, thar was a fair haired man who crossed yer path. Why don't ye kill him? I'd do it. Squire. You are my evil genius. No! you will be silent about this story. Don't you dare tell the girl. Mag. "Old Mag niver tells tales, it's not in the business. Squire. You know it's growing late; 1 must not be seen in the village. Can you offer m; shelter? THE MILLER'S D AUG LITER. IS Mag. It's a poor one, but ye are welcome at me fireside. Coom In and we'll crack jokes together, talk over the old times. It's miny a fine story we both could tell. Coom in, coom in. Squire. Stop your harangue — L say stop. (exeunt, l. e. Enter, Beauty, r. k. Beau. I'll just so to our Post Office and see if Dickey's wrote that letter, (gets letter from under log) Yes, he's wrote it. Dickey does write the sweetest letters, he seals them with molasses candy, and I lick it off. Once he sealed it with shoemaker's wax and fooled me, but I got even, I put burrs in his pants pocket. Didn't he scratch! (laughs) Then I told him he'd got the itch and sent him home. I'm most forgetting mv letter. "Miss Beauty Lynne, es- teemed friend : I take my pen in hand to let you know that I have usked ma to go. She said no, but I'm going to run off. I'm goin^ to be tough — tougher than boarding house beef steak — tough enough 10 travel with you. I have changed my pants and will sneak off and meet you this afternoon. 1 hive got an old pistol, three pies and » loaf of bread. The rose is red, the violets blue, Sugar is sweet and so are you." Ain't that sweet? "Your classmate in Sunday school, Dickey. He's a turnip. What in the world does Dickey want with those 1'ies. Hum ! a pious crowd. Well, it's about time he was showing up, if he wants to meet me here. I ain't meeting him by moonlight alone. He'd be afraid ! Enter, Dickey, r. e. Dick. Say, why did'nt you tell me there was a cross bull in your ancle's field. Beau. Did be whoop you up? Where do you feel worst. Dick. I don't like to tell. Beau. Oh! you needn't care for me. Did he toss you by the seat ,of vour trousers ? Dick. He did, he put me right over the fence. Beau. Another case of assension — your'e sa green, it's a wonder he didn't eat you. Dick. Well, it don't fe.l very good anyhow. Say, where are we going? Beau. To thunder, may be. Do you still want to go along? D ck. What have you got here? (he takes bundle Beau. Night gowns. (Dickey drops bundle) Baby, are you afraid of them. Dick. No, I'm not afraid; but I don't like them. Beau. Well, you can carry them. I was bound to have them, so I crawled in the window and got them. Suppose I'm going to give them up now, we've got to have 'em. Dick. Well, you can oarry them yourself. I've got those pies to look after. I put two of them in my hat, s> ma wouldn't see them. Beau. Looks like mitce pie now. Say Dickey, do you like me much? Dick. You bet! more than my dog Jack or — molasses candy. Beau, Then you carry this. U THE MILLER'S DAUGHTEH. Dick. Oh! no, you're soft-soaping me. Beau. We are only going to the Inn, then back again. Do carry them. Dick. Like to know why we got to go back again. Beau. The body guard is to protect the Queen when she walks to-night. If you're getting tired, you can go back to your ma. Dick. Ma be hanged— no I mean pa. I'll go if I loose my life, but I'm mo^t afraid to go back now. Beau. Say, you got your pistol? Dick. Yes, but i'm fraider with it. Beau. Be sure and don't turn the wrong end toward you, you might surprise your head. Come along here, grab that bundle. Dick. I won't do it. Beau. Then we part, part right here, same as if a cyclone had blown us apart, and next j r ears violets shall gem my early grave. Boo! hooT Dick. Say, stop j r our crying. I'll carry them, yes wear them, anything if you'll only stop. Beau. I wasn't crying a bit. (aside) I knew that would bring him around. Dick, (business with bundle) Say, was there a terrible row? Beau. I should say so. I wish you'd seen the Squire. O! but ne was wrathy, looked like a tiger. Dick. Why didn't you buck him? I bet he'll try to get even. Beau. Let him, I'm his match. Dick. What could you do, pooh ! Beau. I'm little, but my ! I'd just like to scratch his eyes out. Dick. Well, you needn't practice on me. Say, what if you and me would get lost— we'd be like the little bubes in the woods, wouldn't we? Beau. Oh! you needn't fear; I'll not get lost. I'd like to see anyone loose me. Do you know where we are? That's old Mag's cabin, the woman they call the mountain witch. They say she steals children. Arn't you afraid. Dick. Say, you go first, won't you. Let's get out of this, she might want our pies. I ain't afraid, but 1 don't want to loose my pies. Beau. Oh ! there she comes now. Stand up, be a man. (business Enter, Mag, l. e. Dick. I'm a standing, what '11 she do to us? Oh! good Mrs., we don't want nothin'. Mag. Ye pesterin brats, go long wid ye. Beau. We ain't brats, (aside) Even that old woman calls me a kid. (aloud) I'm a young lady. Dickey here ain't much, if you must hurt some one, hurt Dickey — steal him, I don't think any one would care. Dick. We are as go id a? dead — now I lay me — Mag. I say, go long wid ye — clear out — I hate the sight of yez, ye peeky faced brat, ye are one of tlum as throwed stones at me in the village. I know ve — I hate the sight of yez. Dick. Oh! no I didn't, good Mrs. I never throw stones. I'm a good Sunday school boy, and can show you every one of my tickets. Mag, Bad ce3s, them be the worst. I say clear ou t, or 4'll_wiiU> THE MILLER'S DAUGBTEB. ** pe both till ye can't walk. Beau. Gee! Dickey, guess she means it. Ask her. Dick. Do you mean it? Mag. Bah! git. Dick. Yes, she mean? it. Dick.'\ We S' lt - («*« Mag. Mav the devil git 'em. Well, they'd be in better hands than in old Mag's. I'll just go into the den and see if the by's be in. Business on hand to-night and I'll be after gettin' the byes an cxtr a dish— (exit, l. e. Enter, Joe and Tom, l. e., from cabin- Joe. Another job me pretty, but it's not the kind we loike. _ Tom. Thim be a coomin' in slow like now. It'* no like the jolly Jmes we used to have. I would a most do a killin' for nothing, just to see if me hand had lost it's cnnoln'. Joe. The Squire killed his last. He most be a growin' babyish to leave this one off. There be a power of fun in hoogin' a girl just a little too tight. Tom, don't ye think? Tom. Yes, I like to hear the gurgle. One gasp un it be all over. Ha! ha! Joe. (laughs) They niver get up to tell ther' tale- Tom. No, for I kill 'em deader nor door nails. Joe. Give us er light from yer pipe. Whe.e's the old Hag? Enter, Mag, u., 1 e., unseen. Tom. She be> bilin' calf head fer supper, we'll have a feast tc- /light. Joe. Give me a drop. How moch gold did she get ? Tom. One hundred pound, it's a glide price fer nothin'. Joe. That makes a thousand she's got by her now ; when sh get's a little more, we'll kill her. Tom. That we will pardner— that we will. Hist ! (Mag comes forward — stage dark Mag. Be ye ridy to do ther' job, bys ? Tom. We be ackin fer it. I wish it was a stranglin job, me fingers be a growin' stiff. Joe. And me knife hain't had blood on it fer a year. Mag. Niver mind me honeys, the day 'ill come— the day 'ill come. Now Tom, ye'r to grab the gal, while Joe slaps the shawl over her he'd. Do ye understand ? Tom. Yes, what if we'd happen to kill her? Mag. No! the Squires word was, he keerful. Tom. If we make a mistake, we'll throw her in the pool, eh ? Joe. Hist! ther"'5 some one comin'. Mag. It's the gul, ridy now. (business Enter, Elsie, b. e. Elsie. The night's so dark. Can heaven be sending the curse i.hatmy father called down upon my head? Everywhere I go, I seem to hear it— the winds— (Joe and Tom grasp her) What! Who* Help! Murder !_ 16 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Tom. Aisy, me pnrty one; no, it's no murder. Though, if I had me say, ye'd not live to see ther flay. Thar Maff, she's quiet now. Joe. Ye did the job nice, Humpy. Where shall we take her, Maff? Mac/. Well, draff her fr> the .ien. Joe. Did the Squire say we were to lock her up? Mag. No, he'll be here to-night. There, bys. is yer part of the rold. It's a present don't spend it foolishly. It's not miny folks as would be so good to ycz. Tom. Yer a genuwine daisy M iff, and may yer live to bleed miny more victims. (drinks Joe. May yer live to go to yer own funeral. (drinks Mag. Yer brave lads. By's, we've held toffether through thick en thin, chared the same fire, ate the same brid, but old Mai er a gettin' old, she soon 'ill be don; 1 no, then may be ver will rememb t some of the good timrs we've hid tog< t' er. Ye'll remember. Tom. That we will, and we'll niver brake the band till one of us be dead. Eh! Joe? Joe. No ! Come Mag, yer grewsome to-night. What is the mat- ter? Cheer up! Mag. I be a failin' as if — may be this is onr last job — what if it is? Tom. Com' old woman, cheer up! Ye'll live yet to see both of as planted, and yerself put our favorite posy above our graves, a skunk cabbaffe. Mag. Yes by's, ye mean well bv me, I know ye do. Come, draT the girl in. (aside) So they'd kill me, eh? I heard ye, and old Mag will not be so aisy killed as they exnect. Ha! ha! (exit, Joe, r. e. — Tom and Elsie up stage, c. Enter, Sqtirk, l. e. Mag. There's the girl. Now give me the other fifty. Squire. Take it. (gives money) Now uncover the girl's head. (takes shavsl off Elsie, (rises') Where am I — ? Squire Thornton ! thi* is more of your fiendish work. I might have known I could not cs ape voir hatred presence! What would you do? Squire. Save you from a fate worse than death, if you conse it to be my wife. Ah! you start! I know vour little secret. But h-c me tell you, your m irriage is illegal, Basil Lawrence is no more your husband than Humped Tom is. Elsie. 'Tis a lie! you are using a lie to further your own ends! Squire. 'Tis true — and if you refuse to aceede to my wishes, you shall feel Tom's fingers around that delicate white throat of yours, and then be thrown over the cliff into the still pool beiow. Take your choice! Which is it? Elsie. No! Death first! Help! Murder! (business Enter, Beauty, r. e., quickly. Beau. Got here ju«t in the nick of time, (pushes Tom over cliff and shoots Squirk) There! villain, die the death von deserve. Squire, (gasping) Foiled ! foiled ! curse you ! curse you ! Again I say— Elsie Derwent you— are nothing— more than— Basil Law- rentes — Mist ess! (dies Elsie. Dead! dead ! and died with a lie on his lips. CUB TAIN. END OF ACT II, THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 27 ACT IH. SCENE.— Parlor in the home of Countess Harrington— Ball-room back. Lord Hyde. Counter, your ball will be a success. Countess. Thanks, Lord Hyde. I trust so. It will at least be verv select. Lord Hf/de. Yes, did you succeed In obtaining the acceptance card of the latest craze. Mile Cerani? Court. Yes, I've been doubly fortunate, as they refused the Duchess, of Lansdowne for me. Lord Hyde. I heard Mile last night in "Norma," and if there was ever a story written on a face, it is in hers. Conn. I don't like laces that mirror the soul. Basil, I hope will take kindly to her. Lord Hyde. Ah ! but not too kindly. Isn't it sad, that the memory of the past year of his life, doesn't return to him. Coun. No! I pray heaven it never will! That railway acciJent was the most providential thing that has ever happened. Lord Hyde, Madam, how can you say it, you are jesting. Coun. No, my Lord, I'm a wise mo her. Lord Hyde, I've a story to tell you to-night. 1 should have done it before, but I could not. Will you hear it now? Lord Hyde. I am at your service. Let us retire to the library, where we will not be disturbed. A. low ine to again prophecy a success. Coun. Let us wait till to-morrow for that. If my son coni3S to ine then and says he is the accepted suitor of your daughter's hand, 1 shall Le the happiest woman in London. (exit, R. e. i Voice, {outside) The carriages are arriving, (pause) Lord II ai ringtou and Lady Isabel Hyde, (pause) Sir Arthur Gordon and Lady Ce-t ent DeVere. Other entrance please, (pause) Richard Browne. E-q., and Miss Beauty Lynne. (pause) The Hon. William Vance and MUs Stiohans, other entrance. Duke D'Altor and Mile lerani. (music Enter, Counters and Isabel, r. e. Coun. My dear, you are looking well, to-night. Isabel. Yes, who are here? Coun. All our set, but pi incip illy Ml'e Cerani. Isabel. I don't like that woman. Who is she anyhow? Does no one know her past life ? Coun. No one seems to know it. Some say she is a Russian Countess, others that she is the wi ow of our Austriam Duke, bun all concede her to be a royal y beautiful, and more than ordinarily gifted woman. Isabel, And a dangerous one, I have h^ard it said she wins all hearts. Aren't you afraid of your son's affections, Madam ? Coun. My son i< a gentleman and will never do aught that is dis- honorable. You should have made sure of his affection* ere this, Isabel. I entrust my son's happine-s to your care. You love him ? Isabel. Love him! 1 love him so much, that if another won hit affections from me, I believe f should kill her! Coun. Oh! Isab3\ that nasty word. You are too vehement. IS THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Enter, Lord Hyde and Basil, l. e. Lord Hyde. Quite a family party ! You are feeling better to- night, Basil? Basil. Yes, as though somethi"'- ('ritual was about to happen. That dream mother, you call it, seems to have taken firmer hold than ever upon my imagination. What happened here last year, a year ago to-night? Coun. Private theatricals. Don't you remember? Basil. No! If I could but remember, there is something I want to recall — what is it? Coun. Basil, don't excite yourself, you will make yourself worse. Isabel. Come Basil, let us take a turn in the conservatory and see the flowers. (exit, R. e. Coun. Did I do right right, Lord Hyde, in breaking this wretched marriage? (Cerani in archway Lord Hyde. Quite right! To have let it stand, would have been to leave a stain upon the family name. A union between an aristo- crat and a common plebean like a miller's daughter— (sees Cerani) Mile Cerani! Cerani. Pardon me, I interrupt, do I not? Lord Hyde. 1 assure you not. Mile Cerani, the Countess of Har- rington, (bows Coun. I am more than pleased to meet the most famous woman in (London. Cerani. You are very kind my lady. Lord Hyde. You overheard our con versa, ion, Mile? Cerani. A part of it, I meant to pass on. Lord Hyde. And what are your views upon the subject. Cerani. I believe where two people meet and sincerely, devotedly love each other, it is the most cruel crime in the world to separa e ithem. Coun. Let us talk of something more interesting. Have you met my son? Ah ! here he comes now. (Cerani sets him and staggers, etc., business Enter, Basil, r. e. Mile Cerani, my son Lord Harrington, (boivs) Lord Hyde, your arm please. (exit, l. e. Cerani. (aside) At last we meet. Heaven*, I thought I should fall dead at his ieet, were 1 ever to meet him again. Basil. The face in iny dream! Mile Cerani, have I ever met you before ? Speak ! Cerani, (aside) T think Lord Harrington ha? never met me before. (looks at him) My God ! he is mad ! Basil. Pardon my rudeness. Mile, your voice sounded like a strain of some sweet music I have heard. Cerani, That music belonged to — Basil. A face in a dream. You pirdon me? Cerani. Yes, there are times in every one's life, when we must HSk tor pardon. The dream, is it a pleasant one? B Lsil. A part of it is so pleasant, I wish it were true. Would it tire you to hear ii ? C'mnu No» my Lord, THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. » Ihsil. They say every man has his peculiarity. This id'iwfc be mine, y t it so strangely affects me, some times I think it muse be tiu . ''In a little village— the name I can't recall— methought I went sketching. I'm something of an amateur, and there I met anil loved one of nature's Queens, a beautiful and loving girl, and Mile, 1 thought my love was fully returned. We were married. 1 was not of age then, in just three months I should attain mv majority, and. till then we pledged ourselves to keep our marriage a secret. We were parted; why or how, I can't remember. There my dream was broken, but the face in it haunts me still. Yours reminds me of it, you are more beautiful— she was but a bud, yet that bud gave promise of a beautiful blossom of beauty, as great as yours." (Isabel in archway Cerani. And this is but a dream, are you sure? . Basil. They tell me so. Isn't my past cruel ? Cerani. Her's is more sad. Basil. You speak as though 'twere true. What do you mean? Cerani. Nothing. I was only so interested in your story, I for- got and thought it was real. Basil. If I could only forget. No, I would not forget. If I could but recall — Isabel. My Lord! your mother desires your presence, can you give her an audience? {exit, c. d. Basil. My mother's every wish is law. You were so kind to listen to my story, Mile, will you accept this little flower in ex- change for your kindness. I will return soon. (bows, exit, c. d. Cerani. B isil ! Basil ! It is I, your Elsie. Come back, I love you still. So weak, and I thought I was so strong. Where are all the oaths of vengeance I swore? Aye, vanished like my hate. This little flower, he wore it. Enter, Isabel, c. d. his hand plucked it. perhaps his lips have caressed it — his dear, dear lips. Tell me little flower! has he kissed you? Speak! Isabel. Madame seems to like flowers. 'Tis too bad to waste so much sweetness on such a poor faded little bud. (hands her flower) Have a fresher one. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Cerani. Thanks, I appreciate it for the donor's sake. Yes, I love flowers; they are the emblems of love, pure sweet love, that which is constant and unselfish. Isabel. Still one need not devour it because— given it. You like Lord Harrington? Cei ani. Yes, he seems a true nobleman. Isabel. I ain °:lad to hear you praise him. One is always glad to hear praise of one's affianced husband. Cerani. Your affianced husband? Isabel. Yes, and I warn you not to come between us. If you do it will be war, war to the knife ! Lerani. Mile is exciting herself, Why should I care for your lover ? Isabel. Why? What have you enred for the score of meu, whe Dave gone mad over your beauty ! Who are you ? Cerani, Mile Cerani. Isabel. You are an adventuress. Cerani. No! no! not that! Who calls me an adventuress? Am t growing mad? to THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. (half f tinting ft tils into chair — papers fall from dress Isabel. I might kill her, no 0113 would know. Isabel Hyde a murderer, no! What's th*s ! the lo^t Harrington betrothal ring! The one I have sworn to wear, and this! (reads copy of marringe certificate) "This is %<\ certify t at I hive joined in holy wedlock, Basil Lawrence and Elsie Dervvent. Kev. John Archibald, Rash- leigh." June 19, 1876. "Those whom God hath joined together, le: no man put asunder." Speak woman ! is this true or some clever scheme of yours to win my lover? Cerani. (risina) 'Tis true, I am Basil Lawrence Harrington's deserted wife. You may thank heaven you have heard it betore it was too late. Isabel. It is false! Cerani. Give me the papers; they are mine, and the ring I pur- chased with a life's love and devotion. Give it back ! Isabel. No, I shall take them to Lady Harrington and force the truth from her. Cerani. You will hear my storv first? Isabel. Yes, I will listen, but I do not believe you. Cerani. There was never a young girl had a sadder life than I have h;id. You th'nk I'm a happy woman! Ah! my heart carries a wound that time has not hea!e I. Some hearts bleed inwardly, and those woun Is are hardest to staunch. Isabel. Cease and tell the story. What is Basil to you? Cerani. I was a young girl when B-isil Lawrence came to our tillage on a sketching tour. We met, loved and were married. On one summer morning he was called away, and I have not seen him until to-night. What am I to him? I am his deserted wife. Isabel. Then his dream was more than an illusion? Cerani. it is the story of his lile. Will you give me back the proof, they are all I have, Isabel. No! I shall take them to Lady Harrington and learn the truth. Come with me, anywhere but here Come! (exit, c. d. Enter, Beauty and Dickey, l. e. Beau. Any mail, Dick? Dick, As usual, after the males? To be serious, ye* : Cerani — Browne — Lynne — Lynne — Lynne — Cerani Lynne— Lynne. One fiom your latest catch, Lord Dundeady. Beau. So soon ! Landed him rather soon! Delightful isn't he? A little unsteady on his legs. I could prop him up; £2000 a year is worth looking after. Yes! ye«, he might do in a pinch. Dick. Bah ! too ancient. He would look well on a bracket labeled — a rare old fosse! — date unknown. Beau. No! a little hard on him I call it. Say Dickey, why are you so critieal about all my catches? Now this man's aire is just the thing. That's the consolation, he can't live lonr, so I think I'll rake him. I'm so in love with thnt little chuckle of. (laughs) it makes him too utterly — yes, I think I like old men be«t, they are so kind. v , Dick. Hum, t .e young men don't seem to be very cruel to you. B an. There vou're wrong. I've known some to be positively ih'ihby dreadfollv slow, (aside) That's a gentle kick. /) ck That brainless chap Danvers, made a big enough (ool ot himself to convince me differentlv. Beau. Yes, wasn't he ni e, I would have had him, only I do so ftdore lightheaded men, THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. « Dick. I've noticed that. Why don't you go in for an idiot and be done with it. Beau. I may take vour advice. Yoti wouldn't have me, would you Dick? Dick. By jove! I've a no ion to take you at your word. Beau. That would b»> to acknowledge yourself an idiot. Havel any on my list: Lord Dimdeidy he stands first now; Hon. Charles Carlton, Horace Danvers. Sir Gordon Bircou and— no, I don't think an v of them are idiOis, no yon ? Dick. Some of them are near it. Beau. Say Dick, what have any of them done to you? Dick. Nothing. Beau. I thought they had. Don't you feel well, better take something for your stomach. Enter. Lord Hyde, r. e. Ah ! Lord Hyde! Mr. Brown, I think I left my fan on the piano, would you kindly get it for me? Don't hurry. Dck. {aside) Ihi little heathen, {aloud) Would be delighted. {exit, l. e. Beau. Aren't you glad we are alone? Lord Hyde. Immensely! (aside) As playful as a kitten, by George! Is the girl in love with me? (aloud) Yes, I've been ;d<>ne for twelve years. Beau. Your wile been dead that long? Why, you must have lieen left a very young widower, and you never married again. How lonely you must feel. Lord Hyde, lam now seventy; the age when a man is in his prime — beau. Just a ripe age, seventy? Why Lord Hyde, I shouldn't lave taken you to be a day over f Tty-five. You don't look it. Lord Hyde. Ah ! I'm afraid you flatter ! Beau. Flatter! that's the same thing as calling me a story teller. 1 don't like thai". Lord Hyde. Xo, no, my dear, I didn't mean that. (k'^ses her hand Beau. Did you mean that? I like it batter. Enter, Dicky, l. e. Dick. Ahem! ahem! Beau, (aside to Dickey) Dickey, don't spoil the chance I've been looking tor all my li e. Jt may be my list, and you wouldn't lil.e to leel you had made me an old maid. i>ick. Heavens no! go in for it. I'm out. (exit, L. e. Beau, (aside) How provoking — 1 can't make that booby jealous. (aloud) Tou were saying something about marrying again — Lord Hyde. Was 1 — no one would want to be an old man's dar- liiiir. Beau, (aside) There, I was a little too fast, but I'll catch him yet. {aloud) Oh ! yes, it is much better to be that, than a young man's slave. Lord Hyde. You mean that? By George, would you? Beau. Well I might if I got the chance. ^Lord Hyde. Would you be my M_ay ? SB THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Beau. I would rather be your little Beauty. But this is so fiudden! I never expected it. Why, it takes my breath away! Wait till I catch it. Oh ! my Lord, you do me too much honor. Of course I couldn't say ye- right away. Give me three mon th- to decide. That's a dear — (aside) arid if nothing better turns up, I'll do it just to get even with Richard Browne. Lord Hyde. My dear, 1 should like to take you by this little hand now, and say to all the world, this is the dearest little girl in all the world — my wife. Beau. I'm nearly willing, but I couldn't stand it to-night, I'm so shy, Lord Hyde. Lord Hyde. Call me Wattie. Beau. Dear Wattie, ain't that nicer? You'll never love your ownest own, anv less? Lord Hyde. I shall grow to love you more, and I hope we may live many happy years together. Beau, (aside) 1 hope not. Heav-ns! how long does the oil fossil expect to exist, (aloud) And if one of lis must die first, I hope it will be me. I should so hate to have you leave me alone. Lord Hyde. Oh! my dear, I'm so old— Beau. .Now I won't hear you say a word against yourself — there -leary, you're such a nice old' man. Oh ! < fondles him Lord Hyde. You will have to be my stay and prop. Beau. Oh! I'm good for a dozen, but I "can't marry you i.l I tell ^ou something awful about myself— I've got a horrible temper. There, ain't that dreadful? Lord Hyde. Now my dear, I won't hear you desparage yourself. Beau. Oh! but I have, I'm a regular little tiger, when I'm mad. Lord Hyde. You don't look like it. Beau. Don't I! but I am, and— Oh! I'm an awful talker— would fou believe it. Several young men have held their arms on, and then went off and said all sorts of n isty tilings about me. Lord Hyde. Let them do it now. i should silence them or die. Beau.^ (aside) If he only would do the last, (aloud) No, [ shouldn't let you risk your precious life for such simpering silly idiots. Lord Hyde. What a little baby you are. Beau. No, I am not. A baby is an adorable thing, and I'm far from that. Lord ityde. You are the sweetest little one in the world. Beau. Oh ! you dear duckey — buy er baby a sugar plirai — oh ootsy, tootsy. Lord Hyde. You shall have it. Would you mind kissing me? _ Beau. Not the least, I enjoy it. (they hiss) Oh ! you little dar- ting, (aside) No fool like an old one. (aloud) Now my dear, let us get an ice, I'm so thirsty, (aside) Bah ! I want to take the taste oil my mouth, (aloud) Oh ! my Lord. (courtesies — laughs and coquettes — exeunt, l. e. Enter, Cerani and Basil, r. g. Basil. I'm so restless, Mile sing to me. Cerani. (aside) Now for the test. Will he know me then? [aloud) Certainly, I will sing an old favorite of mine. TEE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. *> • : ' On the banks of Allan Water, Where the sweet spring tide did fall ; Was the miller's lovely daughter, Fairest of them all. For a bride a soldier sought her, And a winning tongue had he ; On the banks of Allan Water, None as gay as she. On the banks of Allan Water, When brown Autum spreads it's store, There I saw the Miller's daughter, But she smiled no more. For the summer, grief has brought her, And the soldier, false was he ; On the banks of Allan Water, None as sad as she. Basil. Stop! that was her song— Elsie's song, ean ; t be? Yes! it /ias all come back, thank God, before 'twas too late. Elsie ! Elsie ! my dear, dear wife ! 'Cerani. Yes Basil, your deserted wife. Stop, don't touch me until you have righted me. Give me my fair name. Basil. That I wlH do— Mother ! Isabel ! Enter, Countess and Isabel, r. e. Conn. Lost! lost! his memory has come back. Isabel, Say this is false ! swear it! and prove her a thief an J a former. Basil. 'Tis true! this is the wife you so cruelly separated me fiom, mother! Elsie, Lady Harrington. Cerani. The mailer's daughter Mile, only a miller's daughter. Conn. 'Tis a lie! She's no wife, I annul the marriage. You were a minor, I have the power of a guardian to declare That mar- liage invalid, and I do it. Basil. Mother, I forbid you to speak farther. Silence! Cerani. Neither wife, maid or wid< w ! Then my God ! what am * ? (falls Basil. Mother, you have killed her. (kneels by Cerani Conn. It would be the kindest ihing I have done in niy life, if I had. To-morrow all London will bd laughing at your folly. What wretched fate brought her here? Isabel. Then you acknowledge her cla in Coun. I acknowledge, nothing. She is no more to me than the worm that crawls the earth. Isabel. And you have trampeled upon her, bocause she crossed your path — Cow. It. was all because I loved you Isabel, and it was my ambi- tion to see you my son's wife. Isabel. Madam, I loved your son, jealously loved him, but do yon think I would have married him and known this. No, I have escaped a fate worse than death, through no kin Iness of yours, you are a bad cruel woman. 24 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Coun. My God, you too turn against me, surely my sin has found me out. My son! Basil. Mother, may God forgive you, T never can. Won't you make the reparation you can, by acknowledging our marriage? Coun. Never! Choose between me and her. Basil, (rising, lifts his wife in his arm) I choose my wife. Henceforth our paths, mother, lie ap irt. I do not ask you to leave here. Something is clue to the house of Harrington. You may re- main ; I shall go, and until your foolish pride will allow you to wel- come my wife, you shall never see my face. Coun. You have chosen ? Basil. Yes, look upon your work and enjoy it if you can. My prayer is that you may not have a moments peace of conscience Farewell, Lady Harrington. Coun. My son ! my son ! it was all for von, it was all for you. Basil. Cease your excuses. There is one name only that should Answer/your sin and that is crime! Farewell. 1 Coun? It was all for you — it was all for you. (faints CURTAIN. END OF ACT III. ACT IV. SCENE. — Interier of miller's cotta e — storm. Mr. D. What a fierce, fierce storm ! God pity any (looking of c.) wanderer that is out to-night. Just two years ago, 1 drove my only child from home. Since then I have not passed a happy hour. 1 see her face every where, I can he^r her voice m the winds. But I don't forgive her, no! no! I'll never forgivo her, why don't I for- get her ! How dark it drows. Beauty ! Beauty ! Enter, Beauty, l. u. e. Beau. Coming as soon as I get this basket of chickens next the fire. Did you call before? I guess 1 must be growing old and dear, sure enough I found a crows foot under my eye this morning. Mr. D. Beauty, I forbade j«fu to speak of Elsie when you came back, do you ram ember? My lips had never in all that time framed her name, I could not. To-night— isn't that a terrible storm? — I will hear her story. Beau, (aside) Is he relenting at last! Too late! too bite! Oh! if I could but tell the story, so he would torgive. (aloud) Well, when we went from here, Elsie and I took lodging's in London. We did plain sewing, and Dfck worked in a lawyer's office. What money we gathered we used to perfect Elsie's voiee, and it was the happiest moment in our lives, when the Pi of. gave her a solo to sing in a concert. You should have seen how the audience raved, it seemed it would not be satisfied. Soon offers from managers poured in from every where, and we woke up one morning, to find our darling famous. We traveled in all the cities of Europe, returning to London in December. We went to ;a fashionable ball an I there she met again the husban 1 who had Ueserte I her. He had been iu- juiedina railway accident and lost; his memory. On hearing her THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Sb Aug that little song of tier's, his lost faculty returned, and he ac- knowledged Elsie his wife. ITU mother refused to recognize the marriage, as lie was only :i minor when it was contracted. There whs a stormy scene, and I tell von that old woman drove her mad. She left the ball room and 1 have never seen her since. Dickey and J moved heaven and earth almost to rind her, but to no avail, then I "aine home to you. Mr. D. And I cursed her! Did she bear me any ill feeling? Beau. Ah! she couldn't do that. Oh ! Elsie! Elsie! (Elsie looks in window Mr. D. Hush child, that is enough ! Now don't ever speak her •lame ajain. She knows better than to come back here. She knows I'D not forgive her. No never ! She killed her mother! (Elsik starts) D > you hear? She killed her mother! Yes, the same as if she plunged a dagger in her heart. Curse her! curse h'-r! (busi- ness) Ah! I'm growing numb. Look, that hand is dead! My arm's stitl! No! no! I take back the curse, it is the vengeance of heaven. (f a u s oac k in chair Enter, Elsie, l. e., quickly. Elsie. Father! father! Speak to me, take me back. 'TisI Elsie you i child come back to die. Beau. Elsie! No, he's not dead. (feels his heart Elsie. Speak father! Say you lorgive me. Beau. Dickey! Dickey! Oh! if he was only here. I never .vauted him so bad in my life. What can I do? 'I'm all in a mud- dle. Which is best, hot or cold water? Enter, Dickev, r. e. Dick. There's that battery going again, (sees Elsie) Elsie, back .! I ist — what doe* this mean ? Beau. Assist uncle to his bed. No question's now, I havn't time \o answer. Cheer up Elsie, we will bring him around all right. (exeunt, l. e Re-enter, Beauty and Dickky, l. e. Beau. It is better to teave her alone with him, when he rallies h( r's will be the first face to greet him. Dick. What a wise little woman you are becoming. Beau. Do you think so! Mr. Brown, I really must make my oest bow. You make a compliment in the best of style. If I had a sugar plum, you should have — half of it. Dick. Yes, I'd get the seed — Bmn. Listen! he has awakened. (Elsie sings "Mottoes on the wair — Beauty cries— business) I wish you wouldn't smoke, it makes me so uncomfortable. Boo hoo! now stop! Dick. I wasn't smoking. Beau. Well, you wanted to. Dick. If that makes you uncomfortable, I'll do it. Who's made me uncomfortable all my life? Benu. I haven't asked you to be a victim to my smiles, have I ? We're having a dreadful storm? Dick, Yes, it remind* me of you. 26 THE MILL EH' S DAUGHTER. Beau. Hadn't you better hug c'ose, just to prove you aren't afraid nf me. Oh! it's so nice to be comforted! (voice outside) Whoa! whoa! whoa! Dick. The coach ! Who can be coming this way, such a night? Beau. JSJy late, most likely; I always expected him to come in a storm. Dick. No! mine! you always want everything. Beau. I say it's mine, so there ! I shall stand at the door and grab him — Enter, Basil, c. d. Dick. The devil! Beau. You can have h : m Dickey. Lord Harrington, what brings yon here? Basil. I have come for Elsie, my wife. Sincj the night she left us so suddenly, I have spent day and night searching for her. I have traced her here. Beau. Ami if it is too late? Basil. She is not dead ! Tell me she is not dead ! Beau. No, she is here, but greatly changed. You will see a sad- eyed, broken hearted woman, Lord Harrington. Basil. How she must have suffered. So have I ; I have lived and :lied a thousand death it seems. Where is she? Let me see her? Can I go to her? Beau. In good time, I will go and prepare her for the shock. Strange some women will get smocked at the sight of a man. Now I don'r. (exit, r. e. B isil. Miss Lynne possesses a golden heart. Dick. Iron, and from the present outlook she intends to keep it. Bas I. Faint heart never won fair lady. Dick. Bother such trash ! Haven't 1 done everything to get her? Basil. Have you spoken the word? Dick. No, but I've acted it enough. Hang it, does a fellow have to get down on his prayer bones in this prosaic 19th century? No, I'll be— Enter, Beauty, r. e. Beau, (aside) I'll have him here, see if I don't. Bisil. You have seen her? She will forgive — B I detest them"— The te'egram. "I'm coming"— A'-rival o F "On- Kittie"— "A regular cvclone in pelt coats''— "Our Pet' -H'»! Eh] ha!— Mrs. Carter's (right— Kittie rides 'he Major's nee hord*. Fir >fly — ' ! these femiles, th^v "ill he the death of me"— Christopher Columbus— Mr. Warhlpr, of Warblersvi'le— "W ny dovn T? irnu n cagf it"— Kittie snubs the Warbler — "Shecom^d from de West, she did" — K<'ti" an 1 her guardian — C A. Davenport — A formf r lover of Kittie's rnothe —"Gold Dust Arthur's arrh al"— "L iok out Guardy, you'll explode " ACT II.— The interrupted proposal— Is it Ki'tie or Rose, 1 1 ove— Arthur andKitt ; e —The failur • of the -nines— The Major's despair— "I am ruined" — Gold dust Arthur proposes t > Kittie— How Kittie accepts it— Mrs. Car er an • Chri-topher. ACT III.— T tt e ruined home— Mrs. Carter and Chr Gopher have a disagreement- Gobi Dust Arthur has ruined us— Notes not worth UV paper they are written on— Kittie's resolve— Ro^emond's appeal to Col. Davenport-, a failure— $5,000 for y u Kittie, if you will be my wife— I accept it and the condition— "God help me to bear this new «orr^w — "Guardy, here is the money which will give you — A heart within a Hart — "Col. D »ve iport comes h"re as my future husband — Kittie's fortune comes one bon- late— Arthur's dispair at Kittie's radi act— Col. Davenport discovers Kitt'e in [Arthur's arm ; the explanation hy Warb'er — The Col. releases Kittie and presents her |w t'i the $5,000 as a wedding present— Christopher discovers Major Hart and Mrs. ■Caiter's love affair — "Our Kittie it was who has saved us"— Hapnv ending, and six |ofakind. Price 15o. <*■ OLIVET ; 4- — OR, A RARE — Teu tonic S pecimen. A Farce in one act by J. E. Crary, for 3 male and- 2 fe- male characters. Costumes modern. Time 25 minutes. SYNOPSIS. Curtain rises on a room at Madam Dear's Seminary for girls. Olivet conveys the sad news to her lover Maxmillian, that they musr part. Three rears previous to this time, a wealthy bnchelor saw Olivet sinking on the street, he sends her to school, providing she will become his w ; 'e at the end of three years. The time has ex- pired and August Monson, the wealthy bachelor, comes for his affianced. By mistake, Gus Monson, the rare Teutonic Specimen, comes into Madam Dear's house and is taken for Monson, the bachelor. It is discovered that he is not the wealthy Mr. Monson, the young people dress him up as Olivet, to fool Monson. Madam schemes to get Monson to propose to her, which he does and forgives all deceptions played oa him. Happy ending.. Price 15q, ^ LITTLE GOLDIE; 4> OR, The Child o f the Ca mp. A. Western Comedy Drama in Four (4) Acts for 11 male and 3 female characters, by MR, CHARLES 0, WILLARD, Little Goldie is a strong Western drama. It is replete with startling situations, thrilling incidents and interesting from the beginning to the end. Dutch, Irish and Negro characters for the comedy parts. > SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS. ACT I.— The picnic near the ".Flack Hawk's" cave. The lawyers and Mike. Little Goldie has fun with the Judge. Mike makes love to Matilda. The Judge is appealed to. Matilda and the Judge. Joe arrived late. The Captain of the Black Hawks shows up. Tells the pang a storv. Old Jones is rich. The plot. Peter's meets old Jones. The struggle. Little Goldie to the rescue, backed by the Judge and hia "cannon." "It wouldn't do in this glorious climate of Colorado." ACT II— The Col. and the Mnj. lament the escape of the Black Hawks. The Judge gets drunk. M'ke tells some new. The boys lay" for the school teacher. The school teacher arrives. A female. The Judge makes a speech. Joe drops in and cuts them all out. Matilda and the Judge. Mike gets mad. The Capt. of the Black Hawks again. Little Goldie at her pranks— has trouble with Godfrey. Joe inter- feres. The Col. and Maj. get in their work. Judge tries to escape from Matilda. 'Mike helps him out. The recognition. The story. I will be there. The quarrel. "Dion th-t knife, or I'll fill yon full of holes." ACT III.— The home of Edith. Matilda tells a little gossip and departs. Joe calls and tells Edith of his love. The Ju^ge hears him refused. Joe departs. The Judge , tries his hand. Matilda unexpe<*etdly returns. The Judge in a fix. Little Goldie 1 again. A new baby. Godfrey calls on Edith. The promise. "So will I." The Col. and Maj. Mike ha.pr-ens a loner. The Judge takes a hand. Little Goldie looking for Joe. Handsome Harrv. "I'll play this alone if I die for it." Near the Black Hawk's retreat. The Black Hawks. Godfrey waiting Edith's arrival. Edith arrives. "Never." "Then ?o where you belong." Handsome Harry to^ the rescue. "Defend yourself." Harry is overpowered. The fate of a traitor. Goldie to the rescue. The ter-i hie fall of Godfrey. »„..,». . ^ ,,.„ ™ ACT IV.— Bummer Jones' (George Winfred) home in Denver. Mike Flynn in command. The reformed Bummer. The letters. The letter from the nephew. The nephew arrives. Godfrev as a "Missionary." The uncle writes a letter dictated by thenephow. Tb» arrival of the Judge. The murder. The Col. and Joe. Godfrey's claim. Mikp tells what he beard. Godfrey accused of murder. "His child and tv>e heiress is dead." The heiress found is Little Goldie. Handsome Harry. Godfrey cheats the b>w. Edith and Joe. Unevpeeted arrival of Matilda. Happy finale. Amateurs will find this piece just what they want, as it was written expressly for them. PRICE 25 CENTS PER COPY. Order a copy of Ames' Publishing Co,, took Box 162. - - Clyde, Ohio. Ames' Plays — G nntinuEd. 176 207 199 174 158 149 37 237 126 265 114 264 219 239 221 262 87 131 240 16 Comedies Continued. Factory Girl 6 Heroic Dutchman of '76 8 Home Love's Labor Not Lost 3 Mr. Hudson's Tiger Hunt 1 New Years in N. Y 7 Not So Bad After All 6 Not Such a Fool as He Looks 6 Our Daughters 8 Pug and the Baby 5 Passions 8 Prof. James' Experience Teaching Country School 4 Rags and Bottles 4 Scale with Sharps and Flats.. 3 Solon Shingle 14 Two Bad Boys 7 The Biter Bit The Cigarette 4 $2,000 Reward 2 TRAGEDIES. The Serf 6 FARCES & COMEDIETTA S. 129 Aar-u-ag-oos 2 132 Actor and Servant 1 S16 Aunt Charlotte's Maid 3 289 A Colonel's Mishap 12 A Capita Match 303 A Kiss in the Dark 166 ATexan Mother-in-Law 4 30 A Day Well Spent 7 169 A Regular Fix 2 286 A Professional (Jardener 4 80 Alarmingly Suspicious 4 320 All In A Mud lie 3 78 An Awful Criminal 3 313 A Matchmaking Father 2 31 A Pet of the Public 4 21 A Romantic Attachment 3 123 A Thrilling Item 3 "0 A Ticket of Leave 3 175 Betsey Baker 2 8 Better Half 5 86 Black vs. White 4 22 Captain Smith 84 Cheek Will Win 287 Cousin Josiah 225 Cupids Capers 4 4 317 Cleveland's Reception Party. 5 ' 249 Double Election 9 1 49 Der Two Surprises 1 72 Deuce is in Him 5 19 Did Dream it 4 42 Domesric Felicity 1 18S Dutch Prize Fighter 3 22«> Dutohyvs. Nigger 1 H Eh? W at Did You Say 3 218 Everybody Astonished 221 Fooling with the Wrong Man 2 1 233 Freezing a Moiher-in-Law... 2 1 151 Fun in a Post Office 4 2 5 4 2 3 3 3 2 2 3 1 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 ii 1 1 a^ No. 184 Family Discipline 274 Family Jars 209 (loose with the (iolden Eggs.. 13 (Jive Mo My Wife 307 Hallahnhoola, the Medicine Man 66 Hans, the Dutch J. P 2i 1 Hans Brummel's Cafe 116 Hash 120 II. M. S. Plum 50 How She has Own W , 140 ||<»w He Popped the Quest'n. 74 How to Tame M-in-Law 35 How Stout Your Getting 247 Incompatibility of Temper... 95 In the Wrong Clothes 305 Jacob Shlaff's Mistake 199 Jimmie Jones 11 John Smith 323 Johanes Blatz'a Mistake 99 Jumbo Jum 82 Killing Time 182 Kittie's Wedding Cake..... 127 Lick Skillet Wedding 2'2S hauderbach's Little Surprise 302 Locked in a Dress-maker's Room 106 Lodgings for Two 288 Love in all Corners 139 Matrimonial Bliss 231 Match for a other-Mi n-Law.. 235 More Blunders than one 69 Mother's Fool 23 My Heart's in Highlands 208 My Precious Betsey 212 My Turn Next 32 Mv Wife's Relations 186 My Day and Now-a-Days 273 My Neighbor's Wife 296 Nanka's Leap Year Venture.. 259 Nobody's Moke 44 Obedience 33 On the Sly 57 Paddy Miles' Boy 217 Patent Washing Machine 165 Persecuted Dutchman 195 Poor Pilicody 159 Quiet Family 171 Rough Diamond 180 Ripples 267 Room 44 309 Santa Claus' Daughter 48 Schnaps 138 Sewing Circle of Period 115 S. H. A. M. Pinafore 55 Somebody's Nobody 232 Stage Struck Yankee 241 Struck by Lightning 270 Slick and Skinner 1 Slasher and Crasher 137 Takine the Census 252 That Awful Carpet Bag 315 That Rascal Pat 40 That Mysterious B'dle r5 & LIBRARY OF CONGRESS iimes' Plays— NO. 101 h . 54 292 142 276 - V 7 2S1 ■',} 170 1 ,1 ;■•; 71) I. ■ 1-17 !.-,-, Ill 1 ; M. The Bewitch nan Turn Him Out The .V The Irish Squire of Squash Ridge 1 The Mashers Mashed The Sham Professor 4 The Spellin' Skewl ] The Two T.J's 4 Thirty-three Next Birthday.. 4 Tim Flannigan Tit, for Tar 2 The Printer mikI His Devils.. 3 Trials of a Country Editor.... 6 The. Wonderful Telephom \'int Emily- 4 >; Uncle I Unjust Justice [J.S. Mail nt Wool Dealer 5 ed a Husband 2 Wooing Under Difficult^ Which will he Marry 2 Mais 4 1 Why they Joined the. Re- Yankee Duelist 3 ee Peddler i ETHIOPIAN FARCES. 204 15 172 98 -, . 214 145 190 230 ! .:; 103 47 6 A Coincidence An Unwelcome Return 3 An Unhappy Pair 1 Black Shoem Luck 2 5 nd 2 Hamlet the Dainty flaunted House 2 ur Paxey got her Child Bapti In For It... In the Wroni Joe's \ Mischievou 8 Nigger 4 016 103 371 6 NO. 256 -Ji 128 Musical DarJ 90 N 61 Not as Deaf as He S ibin lldPompey'. H)" Other People's Children.,. 297 Pomp 1 134 Pome's Pranl 2 i nvention 5 Quarrelsome Servants Rooms to Let 2 107 School rig 179 Sham Doctor 94 16.000 Years Ago 3 on a Lark Sportsman 2 •Stage Struck Dark. Shortcake Ill Stocks Up, Stocks Down., til That Bov Sam 122 ThoSelcci School IIS The Popcorn Man lie Studio 3 245 ] 4 Twain's Dodging 3 197 Tricks UM Uncle Jetf 21fi Vi.o Versa 3 206 Villkens and Dinah 210 Virginia Mummy kens 1 205 Willi:, lofi Wig-Maker and 11 GUIDE BOOKS. 17 Hints on Elo 130 Hints to Auki CANTATA. 215 On to Victory TABLEAUX. 250 Festival oi Days PANTOMIME. 260 Cousin John's Album MAKE YOUR OWN WIGS ! PREPARED "WOOL Is an article that c hout any exp into WIGS, BEARDS, MUSTACHES, ETC., At very little cost, and wilt be sure to give satisfaction. ounce. Lode Box 152, WE AMES PUBLISm CLYDE, OHIO. jE