LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ®]^p inp^rigPfn.- Slielf.f^ S^ ^i?. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. '- u:^ , — / THE SPIRITUALIST; A Comedy in Four Acts, ■BY y- JOSEPH HABION BAKEE. The Peculiarities of Individualr Have Ever Furnishep 1 HEMES FOR THE MuSE OF COMEDY.— ^n07iyWf)W«. Grrand Rapids, Michigan, 1882. H. H. COLESTOOK, PRINTER, No. 2 PEARL STREET, UP STAIRS. TSIE SPIRITUALIST; ■A- COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS, -BY JOSEPH MARION BAKER The Peculiahities of Individuals have ever Furnished Themes foe the Muse of Comedy. — Anonymous. Bntered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1881, BY JOSEPH MARION BAKER, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. V-- \SS^ TO MY FATHEE, ABRAM BAKER, M. D., OF Good Hope, Ohio, THIS COMEDY IS INSCRIBED. THE SFII?.ITXJAI-.IST, A COMEDY IX FOUR ACTS. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Amlntdab Dorkins otherwise ^Ir. Quattlewich, a spiritualist who is President of tke Hodwag *&: Southwestern Railroad Company. Mrs. DorkdsS, wife of Aminidab Dorkins. ]SIr. JuisKiNGsoN, a farmer. Mrs. Ju^skln-gson. wife of Mr. Junkingson. Melissa, a single lady, who is a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Junkingson. Aunt Sally, a rich mischievous widow. Spriggdss, a student at Mrs. Spankington's Academy. Gall, a book-agent and detective. Sheldox, a peddlA- of pictures. Betson, a farmer. Bartlett, a Justice-of-the-Peace. Psycho, a fiend . Ghosts, Devtls and Angels. THE SPIRITUALIST. ACT I.— Scene I. Discovered a room in Mr. Junkingsoii's residence, Aunt Holly churning and Miss Melissa Junkingson reading a pictorial paper. Melissa, Oh dear! Auut Sally! have you seen my sweet little dog Jewel? I believe some one has killed him. He had such a melancholy air, during the last few days, that 1 think he had a presentiment of his approaching fate. Aunt tially. I haven't seen your delestable poodle lately. One would think that you must be a victim of hydrophobia, since you can talk of nothing but your dog. I wish old Quattle- wich had the hydrophobia, because he is an unmitigated nui- sance. Melissa, Oh dear! Aunt Sally! you do talk awfully. Mr. Quattlewich is the most tender and the most ohivalric gentle- man that ever came to our township; and he told me last night that he loved me for my sense and beauty, and I believe him. • Aunt Sally. Melissa! you are a dunce of a queer kind. 1 tell you old Quattlewich loves your property, but cares no more for your person than I do for a king of Central Africa. Melissa. Oh horrid! horrid! Your language penetrates my soul wiih the acidity of a crab-apple. Aunt Sfllly. Acidity of fudge! Melissa, you are too easily imposed on. Melissa. Did you never hear him tell about his campaigns in Central Africa? — how he espoused the cause of the Pigmies, THE SPIRITUALIST. during their wars witli the giants, and killed fourteen giants with his own hands, in one fight, while the tearful rescued maidens hung upon his accents likc-r-like — Aunt Sally. Like a turkey-buzzard on a dead horse. How dark he is ! Melissa. His dark complexiou was caused by the smoke of battle; there's where he turned dark. Aunt S. There's where he turned pale. Melissa. Oh you irreclaimable cynic! How I do love you ! A kiss. Aunt! a kiss! \ Kissing Aunt Sally. Aunt S. Melissa, do you know that the perseverence of this milk, which I am churning, does astonish the xVmerican people? I have been pounding this milk ever since George Washington was an infant ; and there is no sign of butter ; but the contents of the churn are as thin as Quattlewich's mustache. Come! niece! We'll get some warm water. [Exeunt. Enter Spriggins, carrying Jeicel a dead dog. Spriggins. Hem! ahem! An elderly female that churns col- ored water two hours, hoping to convert it into butter. A sen- timental single lady; and a modest youth called Spriggins. That's I. I have such an angelical disposition that I smell more sweetly than a female singing class. However, I didn't learn vocal music at Sing Sing; but Quattlewich did, I think. Just two hours ago, according to my chronometer, I poured nearly all the milk out of the churn, and almost filled it with water; and Aunt Sally has been churning that whitened water, not knowing what I did. Two hours are long enough to have pro- duced fishes, if not butter. Here is Melissa's dog Jewel. He is as dead as the ancient Egyptians; and I killed him. I'll put him in the churn, and tell Melissa that her lover Quattlewich killed the dog and placed him there. She loves her dog! How mad she will be at Quattlewich. [Putting the dog in the churn.] THE SPIRITUALIST. There now; he will have the advantage of a water-cure estab- lishment. Enter Mr. Quattlewich. Mr. Q. Spriggius! what have you been doiog? JSpriggins. Mr. Quattlewich, I have been studyiug a form of prayer suitable for public gatherings. Mr. Q. Spriggius, why didn't you ask my advice about it? 1 have sufficient knowledge to instruct even the clergy in such matters? 8pH(jgiiu. Why! Mr. Quattlewich! I ^thought you were a philosopher and writer; but I had no idea that you were a theo- logian also. Mr. Q. I am deeply read in Christian theology, and my judgment is always correct. But I believe only what the spir- itual mediums tell me about man «nd his duties and the future world. Sprig. Mr. Quattlewich, you should be sent as United States minister to Archangel, Russia. Mr. Q. Why! that is on the borders of a frosty sea. bprig. Rather a cool assertion, I know, sir. Mr. Q. [angrilg.] Where's my cane? Where's my cane? [Exit Stprig. If old Quattlewich cane me, I'll be revenged. He shall never marry Melissa whether he strike me or not. Enter Aunt Sally and Melissa. [Aunt S. bears a pitcher containing water ^ toliicJi s7ie pours into the churn.'] Melissa. Oh dear! what has happened to my poor little dog Jewel? How I miss his affectionate eyes! Sprig. Melissa, I'll tell you who killed your dog Jewel, pres- ently. [Exit. THE SPIRITUALIST. Melissa. Dead! oh, what a blow! Aunt S. How hard and heavy this milk has become! Some one must have been churning it while we were out. [Peers into the churn.] How white the butter is! I shall never be able to find a market for this butter in the republic of the United States. Melissa. What is the trouble? Aunt 8. Oh, dear me! a dead dog in the churn! Melissa. It is my dear dog Jewel. Oh! the affectionate martyr! How can I behold his saintly, loved remains! I recall the words of the royalist bard: "The glories of our earthly state are shadows, not substantial things. There is no armor against Fate. Death lays his icy hand on kings." Aunt 8. I don't see any appropriateness in applying such sublime poetry to the death of a dog. Jewel wasn't a king. Melissa. No. But the principle is the same. Au?it 8. I don't doubt the truth of your assertion; for some kings have no more principle than a poodle. Melissa. Oh, horrid! horrid! You are crusty because you can't make butter, this morning. But I love you still. A kiss, Aunt Sally! A kiss! [Kissing Aunt 8. Aunt 8. Don't be too affectionate. Who could have killed the dog? Melissa. I don't know. Aunt 8. Neither do I. Enter Spriggins. Melissa. My poor little canine friend shall haunt his mur- derer, and disturb him by nightly barking. I would not have Jewel bite him; but I would desire to see Jewel snap at him, and frighten him. 8prig. If you two will not tell who told you, I will tell you who killed the dog Jewel. Aunt 8. I'll never tell. Melissa. I'll keep it as a secret. 10 THE SPIRITUALIST. JSprig.—Mw Quattlewich killed Melissa's dog Jewel. I saw bim do the bloody deed. Melissa, ask him to kiss the dead dog. If he will not kiss him, it will be a proof that he is guilty of his death and his coDScience smites him. Melissa. Oh! Spriggins! I can't believe that Mr. Quattlewich killed him. He was alw^ays so tender and devoted to me that I believe he couldn't have been so cruel. Oh, my Jewel! My dog! my dog! my dog! Aunt S. This is the first time I ever saw the dog days come in this manuer. Ha! ha! ha! [Exit. Si^rig. Will you bury Jewel, your sweet pet poodle, and engrave on his tonibstcne a dog's paw pointing up to Heaven! Mel. Oh, horrid! horrid! 1 haven't felt so badly since I graduated at the high school. Sprig. I love you, Melissa. Mel. And I love the dog. Sprig. Good-bye! kind young lady. [Exit^ Mel. Ah, my dog! My unfortunate martyr! How 1 loved him! Ent^ir Mr. QrATTLEWiCH. Mr. Q. — Happiness consists in an appreciation of the smaller blessings of life. What causes you so much grief? Mel. Oh, dear me! Jewel is dead. Mr. Q. What ! Who killed your dog? Mel. Mr. Quattlewich! I was told that you did. But I can hardly believe it. Mr. Q—l kill a poodle! Melissa, do you think that the Pres- ident of the Hodwag & Southwestern Railroad Company could descend to such a petty act as the slaying of a dog? Md. Oh, what a fate! 3Jr. Q. Had I killed the dog, I should think that I must have been under the influence of an evil spirit at the time I did the deed. Melissa, will you believe me when I say that I didn't destroy your unfortunate quadrui>cd mammal? THE SPIRITUALIST. H Mel. Mr. Quattlewich! if you say that you didn't kill my dog Jewel, I can't doubt your statement. Mr. Q. Some scientists think thut do2;s may be our humble relatives; but I cannot believe them. Mel. What do the mediums sjiy about death? Mr. Q. ]\Iuch that is consolatory. Mel. Do you believe in spiritualism? Mr. Q. I do. [Science in vain searches the distant past, and in the deposits of a frosty age seeks to discover the origin of the human race; but science cannot penetrate to the world of ghosts, but spiritualism can. A gentle rap upon a table makes known the presence of the souls of the dead. The ghosts of our dead relatives often take complete possession of us; and thus it often happens that, w^hen we think we are ourselves, we are really only our own great-grandfathers or great-grandmothers. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, I love you still. Mel Do you love me more than you do your grandmother? Mr. Q. Hem! hem! hem! A delicate question! A delicate question, my dear. When 1 was born, the spirit of Marcus Aurelius told the ghost of Blackhawk that a sweet angel stated to him that Love was destined to be my arbitrary ruler. That tyrant now rules me. When I was in central Africa, I observed that courtship oniong the savage Niam-Niam (gnam-gnam) was very peculiar. I have been a great traveler; and have beheld many wild scenes and some bloody ones. Melissa, do you love me? Mel. Some, maybe. I cannot say that I am deeply in love with you; but every time I see your sweet expressive eyeslwish I was. But my dog! oh my dog! I must go, and weep alone. [Exit. Mr. Q. What a dunce Melissa is! But she has property. Ah! she has property. She will be an odd helpmeet for a philosophi- cal gentleman such as I. But she will be easily governed. 12 Enter Betson. Betson. Mr. Quattlewich, as I was coming to mill, I thought I would call and ascertain if you wish to get any more potatoes. Mr. Q. Sir, I don't desire any more. You brought m\ house- keeper six bushels before; and at least a dozen of them were unfit for use. Six bushels, at fifty cents a bushel, would bring you three dollars; but 1 must deduct twenty-cents for the dozen that were rotten. I do this not for the sake of the money I save, but to teach you to do better in the future. Betson. Sir, you are a pompous, superstitious, gullible miser. Enter Sprig gins. Mr. Q. \^To Betson.'] You rustic calamity, I'll fix you. You insolent trickster. [Beating Betson. [Exeunt Quattlewich and Betson. Sprig. The visionary's theory is true. Man descended from the ancestors of the ayes and monkeys; and some men disgrace their ancestors. I'll place an iceberg between Quattlewich and Melissa. I'll convince her yet that he killed her pet dog Jewel. Old Quattlewich is too mean to become a good husband for Melissa, and he shall never marry her. Here is Quattlewich's carpet-sack. I'll examine it. [Opening the carpet-sack, he takes letters therefrom and reads them.] I see, in these letters, that Quattlewich's real name is Aminidab Dorkins. He has a living wife; and he was in this country on the very days which he claims were spent by him in Africa. Mr. Quattlewich. you never danced round dances, in Central Africa, with a hippo- potamus for a partner. A lady named Dorkins is stopping at that summer resort, the Empire Hotel. She bears Quattle- wich's real name, Dorkins, and mny be his wife. I'll send her a note. [Replacing the letters. THE SPIRITUALIST. Enter Quattlewich, Melissa, Aunt Sally and Mr. JUNKINGSON. Mr. Q. It occurred just as I tell j'ou. We had left the Nile and were gliding up the Gazelle river, in Central Africa. Time, ten o'clock at night. We were passing through the shadow of a large cocoa tree, when our attention was attracted by the most unearthly cries upon the land. Creeping stealthily up the bank, we saw the Negroes and the gorillas engaged in battle. By the light of the rising moon, we saw the line of battle of the huge beasts extending more than a mile. They were armed with clubs and bows and arrows. The negroes, though armed as well, were gradually forced toward us, when, seizing my ele- phant gun, I joined the fight, assisted by my followers. Destiny is another name for skill By our skill we were enabled to shoot the leader of the gorillas; and the fierce brutes retreated from the field. Of course, few living men could have shown as much military talent as I did. Filled with gratitude, one of the Negro chiefs presented me with the dead body of one of his wives, whom he had slain and nicely dressed for breakfast. Mel. Oh dear! How very romantic! How wonderful! Sprig. I should ejaculate! Did you say she was nicely dressed for breakfast? Mr. Q. Yes sir. Sprig. Then sir, that was the only Negro, living in that part of Africa, who was nicely dressed. Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich, if I could tell as big stories as you do, I would become a lecturer. Mr. Q. It is more difficult to lie than narrate facts. A man of my character never lies. Aunt Sallyi; as people call you, you must not accuse me of lying! You must not accuse me of lying. 14 Enter Sheldon, Mel. Here comes Mr, Sheldon. 8hel. It affords me satisfactioD to meet with people of real culture aud position. When one has a production of genius to dispose of, it is inconceivably exasperating to meet only boors, who can not appreciate his choicest wares, [Exhibiting a large picture of a donkey^ Ladies and gentlemen, this is a repre- sentative — Sprig. A representative, did you say! That accounts fpr some of the queer conduct in Congress lately. Shel. Hem! he! a-hem! A representative of the horse fam- ily vulgarly called a donkey, I certify to you that it is a faith- ful and artistic representation of the identical animal on which the Roman general Titus entered Jerusalem, when that city was taken shortly after the death of Christ. It was painted by Sir Edwin Landseer; aud, as a work of high art, it has always excited the exaggerated enthusiasm of mankind. Sprig, Why are the people, represented in the picture, all placed on the housetops? Aunt S. Because it is a work of hig?L art, Mr. Q. Such scenes are common in the Orient, where peo- ple live much on the tops of houses, Shel. Buy it. It is a noble animal. Mel. Isn't it cunning ! Shel. You may have it for $100 — $75 to be paid now; and I will take the remainder in weekly installments, Mel. [To Mr, Junking son.'] Father, buy it, Mr. J. No; my daughter. The weevil is in the wheat; and we will not have ha^^ a crop; the brindle cow intends to have the hollow-horn; and there are so many peaches this year that the weight of the fruit will ruin my trees ; therefore I can't buy the picture. THE SriKITUALlST. 15 Mr. Q. I am remarkably well read iu history; and I know- that the ancient Romans didn't wear swallow tails. [To Shel.] Those, sir, are intended for Roman soldiers; but they are ridic- ulous caricatures. Your picture, sir, is a daub; and I'll not buy it. Shcl. Ah! I perceive that I am among people of real cultiva- tion. Here is a picture more suitable for you. It represents an angel grandmother, just from Heaven, reaching to receive the spirit of her dying grandson. [JSxhibits picture . Aunts. Do angels wear spectacles? {To Mr. Q.'\ I observe that one does. Mr. Q. Aunt Sally, as people somewhat unceremoniously call you, I would inform you that when an elderly person dies, the ghost of such an individual frequently wears spectacles, as I have been informed by spiritualistic mediums on whom 1 can rely. [To Sheldon.] How much for that picture? Shel. It was painted by a famous medium when his eyes were bandaged, and the ghost of Guido inspired him. It is a faithful representation of such a scene. You may have it for $150. Mr. Q. I will give you $1 for the picture, because I believe it represents such a scene. Shel. Not particularly. Give me $125 for it. Mr. Q. I will give you $2 for it. Shel. Give me $100 for it. Mr. Q. I will give you $3 for it. Shel. Give me $75 for it. Mr. Q. I will give you $4 for it. Shel. Give me $50 for it. Mr. Q. I wiir give you $5 for it. Shel. Give me $25 for it. Just think! It only costs you $25 to keep an angel in the house! 16 THE SPIRITUALIST. Mr. Q. Sir! will you be just to me, and believe my state- meut when I tell you that I am a gentleman of correct taste, who can appreciate a work of art when I see it? I will give you $6 for the picture, because that looks like a spirit grand- mother. Shel. Sir, you are a gentleman of wonderful taste. My wife and children are suffering for food; and therefore I will take six dollars for it. Mr. Q. And I, sir, see that you are a man of penetrating judgment since you have been sufficiently discerning to appre- ciate my taste. Here, sir, are six dollars. [^Handing Sheldon a sum. Sprig. [To Shel.\ Why are the angel's cheeks so red? Shel. It blushes with mortification because it only brought six dollars. Sprig. I suppose its chet^ks are red because it was a cold day in Heaven when it was painted. 3Ir. Q. Irreverence, sir! Irreverence! Exeunt Quattlewich, Sheldon, Melissa and Mr. Junkingson. Sprig. Many spiritualists are worthy sensible people; but what an irritable, superstitious, selfish, conceited pudding head Quattlewich is! He could see that the ancient Romans didn't wear swallow-tails ; but couldn't perceive the absurdity of rep- resenting an angel with spectacles on its nose. Joe McGregor, with his eyes shut, could paint a better picture. I painted it as a comic picture; and you added the spectacles to make it look more laughable. But old Quattlewich bought it as a serious picture — a real death-bed scene. So much for superstition. Aunt S. Mr. Quattlewich pretends to have visited Central Africa, I believe. THE SPniTTUALIST. 17 Sprig. He lies prodigiously. I have positive proof that he was in this country on the very day and hour which he claims were spent by him, iu Central Africa, in assisting the Pigmies in their wars with the giants. Aunt S. He is a superstitious egotist. Spriggius, what do you think of spiritualism ? > Spi'ig. I don't know much about it. My vision doesn't extend beyond this world. Uulesss they bring letters of recommendation from the angels, I shall admit no table- thumping ghosts of my ancestors to my intimacy. However hospitable I may feel toward my dead relatives, I shall not ask them to my table. Aunt S. Such as were hung for stealing horses might give you the nightmare. Spriq. Yes; they might. Professor Lougwhine believes that the raps are caused by the ghosts of dead carpenters, who pound in the spirit world in consequence of a habit acquir€d here. Aunt S. Then, if the ghostly carpenters should scare old Quattlewich to death, they would " hit the nail on the head." Sprig. I should ejaculate! Aunt S. Christianity, the religion of our ancestors, will yet civilize the globe. But modern spiritualism! — what is it? a dream or a reality? Sprig. Quattlewich has a living' wife. I have seen the proof of my statement. Aunt S. I don't doubt it. He pretends to love Melissa, but really loves her property, and would like to marry $90,000. We will hasten his marriage with Melissa; but after that event he must pay us a large sum or go to prison for bigamy. In the meantime we will play the ghost and scare him well. 18 THE SPIRITUALIST. 8prig. No; we will scare him sick. Aunt 8. Spriggins, you are a barbarous punster. We will let everybody into the secret of our ghost game, except my unfortunate brother, Mr. Junkingsou, and his daughter Melissa. They are such astonishing dunces that they would spoil all if they should hear of our scheme. Sprig. I should ejaculate! We'll pretend to be spiritualistic mediums. Oh! wouldn't I be a sweet mouth piece for the angels to talk through ? Aunt 8. Yes; if they desired to scold the pigs. Ha! ha! ha! We'll have sport. 8prig. That we will. He! he! he! [^Exeunt. SCENE 11. A Parlor in Mr. Junkingsoh's House. Enter Quattlewich, Melissa, Mr. Junkingson, Mi^s. JujsKiNGsoN, Aunt Sally and Gall. Gall. You will forgive a stranger for congratulating you on the comfort and refinement everywhere visible in this house. Mel. We'll forgive you. Aunt 8. We'll agree to forgive you, provided you promise to cease to flatter us about our neatness, when you have books to sell. Mr. Junk. Everything is wrong. The house is too neat. Mr. Q. [To Oall.] Yes sir; Mr. Junkingson's folks are neat; but you should have seen the neatness exhibited by the canni- bals of Central Africa. Oall. They polished the bones of their human victims very neatly, I suppose; but they must be very superstitious. Mr. Q. They were not more superstitious than many civil- ized nations. THE SriRlTUALlST. 19 Enter Spriggins, Oall. Did they have mediums in Africa? Did the cannibals believe that the spirits of the dead cause raps on tables, as superstitious people here suppose? Mr. Q. Mr. Gall, I would inform you, sir, that spiritualism is not superstition. What a donkey superstition is. I am not superstitious; and I know that we can communicate with the dead. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, I thank thee for the correct views which I entertain upon this subject. What the unbeliever supposes is but the buzz of an insect, is often a stray note from the spirit world; and there is always more wisdom in the raps on a table than in the teachings of the greatest philosophers. Was the gentleman, whose book you are selling, a philosopher? Gall. He was a wonderful man, sir. He penetrated the heart of Africa, and discovered semi-civilized beasts called gorillas — a remarkable portion of the quadrumana — and he was engaged in a bloody and romantic war which raged between the pigmies and the giants, which inhabit that obscure portion of this terra- queous sphere. Amit S. Is the English language on a spree? Sprig. I should ejaculate! Mel. [To Mr. Junk.] My dear father! buy the book. Mr. Junk. No; my daughter. The weevil is in the wheat; and I fear we may have a tornado. 1 can't buy the book. Mr. Gall, you shall not read any extracts from that book in my house, sir. Gall. [Reading aloud.] "As we passed up the Gazelle river, in Central Africa, our progress was continually inter- rupted by the presence of immense numbers of hippopotamuses. They snorted so at night that sleep was impossible. But, after eating liberally of African yams, one night, we fell asleep, be- cause the yams were full of a somniferous substance. The next morning, we found that the huge hippopotamuses had 20 THE SPIRITUALIST. towed our vessel three miles up a tributary of the Gazelle river and left us and our vessel strauded completely." Mel. What a wonderful story! Yet it is undoubtedly true. Aunts. What lies! What intolerable nonsense! Mr. Junk. Just as I said! Everything is wrong. The brin- dle cow has the hollow-horn; in Africa even the food contains death; and the heathen will never learn anything about rotation of crops. Oall. Will you subscribe for the book? [Offering Mr. Q. a pencil and a subscription book.'\ Mr. Q. Not at present, sir. I am an excellent judge of books; and I know that one must have been written by a man of genius who was also a great traveler. Oall. Will any one present sign for the book. [To eac7i.] Sign for it? Sign for it? Sign for it? Sign for it? iSprig. We don't want the book, sir. You needn't read any more. Gall. [Beading.'] " Not far from the seriba of Mohammed Aboo Summat I saw a tree, which in appearance was allied to the .cocoa-palm. It bore small red berries which tasted deli- ciously. My servant, Abdull Kadell ate some of these as we were passing an extensive marsh. Suddenly a fierce report startled us; and, glancing toward him, I saw pieces of his body flying in every direction. He was literally torn to shreds. Is it possible that some evil spirit induced him to eat the berries? They contained an aciduous substance which, mixing with the gastric juice in his stomach, formed an explosive that literally tore him to pieces. How wonderful is nature! How mysterious is man!" Mel. How I pity the poor wretch! Oall. An awful fate. Few books are as wonderful as this. Sprig. I should ej aculate ! Au}it S. Nonsense! Nonsense! Mr. Junk. The fruit in this country is far from perfect, and THE SPIRITUALIST. 21 the African berries tear a man all to pieces. What an unfortu- nate world! [To Gall.] You shall not read any more. The sound hurts my head. Gall. '[Meads.] " When I was in Central Africa — " Mr. Junk. We don't want the book now. Gall. [To each.] Buy the book. Buy the book. Buy the book ! Jlr. Junk. Leave my house, sir. We wouldn't have your book, sir. Gall. [Beads.] "When I was among the Pigmies and the giants of Central Africa — " Aunt S. We wish you had staid tliere. Gall. To tell the truth, I see that you are people of sense. I was victimized when I bought these books; they are full of the wildest nonsense ever put before an intelligent public. Au?U S. Who wrote that book? Gall. Theophilus Quattlewich, President of the Hodwag & Southwestern Railroad Company and Member of the American Geographical Society. ^ Mel. Oh dear! Mr. Quattlewich, that's you. Mr. Q. [To Gall.] You are a boor, sir — a boor. Gall. About the cannibals — Mr. Q. Do you dare to tell me to my face that the book that I wrote contains wild nonsense! I'll cannibal you. Fll prepare you for the pot of the cannibals. You are one of the links con- necting the ape and the amphibian. [Beating Gall.] [Exeunt. 23 THE SPmiTUALIST. SCEiNE III. A Room at Mi'. Junkingsori's. Enter Aunt Sally and Spriggins. Aunt S. Spriggins,- where have yoa been? Sprig. Down to the cornfield to extract the cube root of a stump. Enter Mrs. Dorkins. Mrs. D. I received a letter from one Mr. Spriggins, who I am told resides here. Sprig. That's I. I am the identical tenderling who wrote the note. Mrs. B. And I am Mrs. Dorkins. Aunt S. [To Mrs. D.] What! my old friend Julia Whitting- hammer, with whom I used to study botany at school! So your name is Dorkins, now. Where is your husband? Mrs. B. That's what I should like to know. Aunt S. What! Can't you keep track of Mr. Dorkins, your husband? You should fasten a bell to him. Mrs. B. No trouble to do that; for most married men take kindly to the belles. Aunt S. True. True. Ila! ha! ha! Mrs. B. [To Sprig.] Your description of Mr. Quattlewich agrees with that of my husband, Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. He ^ deserted me and our children some years since. Have you a picture of Mr. Quattlewich? Aunt Q. I have. [Showing a pJiotograph] This is the pic- ture of Mr. Quattlewich. Mrs. B. Why! that is the picture of my truant husband, Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. [Producing photograpJi.] See the two photographs exactly agree. My photograph of him is the best; but the features are the same. Mr. Quattlewich is my husband; and his real name is Aminidab Dorkins. THE SPIRITUALIST. S3 Sprig. He is superstitious, and believes in more ghosts than there is room for— blue ghosts, green ghosts and red ghosts. I shouldn't be surprised to learn that he believes that some ghosts wear pig-tails, like Chinamen have. Mrs. Dorkins. He certainly is somewhat superstitious. Sprig. Do you love that precious husband? Mrs. D. I certainly have a — ah! some regard for him, notwithstanding the fact that he stole my share of the property and cruelly deserted me, after making the most absurd and wicked charges against me. Aunt S. Your husband, Mr. Dorkins, or Mr. Quattlewich, as he calls himself, is courting my poor niece, Melissa Junkingson. Mrs. D. Oh the heartless man! Quattlewich! Quattlewich! Oh what a name my husband has chosen! Aiuit S. [To Mrs. B.\ Justice requires that he should be punished for his cruelty to you. Besides, some punishment might reform him. Mrs. D. What you say is but the truth. Aunt S. Will you assist in punishiug him? Mrs. D. I will. I will. Oh! the soulless deserter of his affectionate wife and children! Aunt S. If he should couseat tv) live with you as your hus- band, he might run away again. Mrs. D. Yes, he might. Aunt S. Don't ra-ike yourself known to him till after his marriage wit!-i Melissa Junkingson; then confront him with the evidence of his bigamy, and you can force him to piy you such a sum to keep you quiet as will render you independent for life. Mrs. D. I will try my very best to assist you. Sprig. We will take advantage of his superstition, and have some fun at his expense, before his marriage with Melissa. The sheriff may have sport with him after that event. [To Mrs D.] Do you see that box under the table? Mrs. D. Yes sir. 24 THE SPIRITUAUST. Sprig. Hide in it, and pretend to be a ghost; and rap the under side of tlie table, when we ask questions, or your hus- band does. Aunt Sally can pretend to be a medium Mrs. D. I will obey you; and rap answers to my husband's questions. [Hides in the box beneath the table. Enter Mr. Quattlewich otherwise Mr. Aminidab Dorkins. Mr. Q. [soliloquizing.'] What a beautiful dream I had last night! I never have such dreams as the common herd have. My angel grandmother stood at my be dside. How bright were her wings! how blissful her smile! Aunt S. How strangely svveet the presence of an angel is! Mr. Q. I was told that you were a medium. Did you ever experience the presence of an angel? .Au7it 8. I feel the presence of an angel now. I am a power- ful medium. A'n't I, Sprigging? Sprig. I should ejaculate! You have the confidence of all dead widowers and some of the live ones. Mr. Q. When I was a boy, a neighbor of mine went to heaven, while he was in a trance state, and remained there two weeks. Enter Mr. Junkingson. Sprig. I went to heaven for a thanksgiving dinner once; but I didn't get any, because some one had eaten up all the turkey. 3Ir. Q. Take seats at the table, and we will communicate with the souls of the dead. The majority of our race believe in ghosts; and some savage African tribes — [Taking seats. Aunt 8. The table is full of spirits. Mr. Q. Aunt Sally, as people familiarly call you, do you be careful to bring me into communication with no spirits except such as are of superior social position in another world, if 1 may so express myself. The familiarity of a common ghost should not be encouraged. • THE SrrillTUALTST. 25 Aunts. Mr. Qaattlewich, the ghost of Robert Burns wishes to communicate with you. Mr. Q. Robert Burns! Robert Burns! He was nothing but a poor Scotch farmer. I'll have nothing to do with him. What did he know about philosophy! Aunt S. Tlie ghost of Julius Ciesar wishes to commuuicate with you. Mr. Q. Ah I let me see. Julias CtBsar belonged to an emi nently respectable family of ancient Rome; he wrote well on the subject of the Gallic war; he was a fine orator, an able gen- eral, aud a statesman of practicality. The ghost of such a man must have an eminently respectable position in the society of the spirit world. You may admit Julius. I have no particular objections to the fellowship of Julias. Sprig. I feel the presence of the spirit of an Indian chief. He is just from the happy hunting grounds aud inquires for fire water. 3Ir. Q. You are right. We must believe that the spirits of the dead are actualh^ here, and that we really see them, else they will never appear. Where is the ghost of Julius? Aunt S: Pie says he doesn't wish to commuuicate with such as you. ' 3Ir. Q. Such as I! Such as I! Julius should think himself honored by my friendship. He was nothing but an ambitious bloodthirsl}' usarper. I'll have nothing to do with Julias C?esar. His wife wasn't above suspicion, I have heard. Away with 3fr. Julius Caesar. Aunt S. I feul the presence of the ghost of Mrs. Whittiug- hammer. She states that she was your mother-in-law. 3Ir. Q. What! my mother-in-law! Aunt S. Shall we communicate with her? Mr. Q. Kot at present. The conditions are not favorable. 36 THE SPIRITUALIST. Atint S. I suppose so, sir. Mr. Q. Let me ask some questions. I have seldom re- ceived answers, but will try again. Endeavor is the herald of success. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, if you are present, please rap twice. [Tico raps.] If you are happy in the spirit world, please rap twice. [Two raps.] Are the houses in heaven all numbered? Was the iclithyosaurus a dweller on the globe before man's appearance? If so, please rap twice. [Two distinct raps.] Is man a descendant of a lower organism? Do the spirits of the dead have holidays. If I would be happy after my marriage with Melissa, please rap twice. [Two raps.] Am I destined to be one of the blessed in the spirit world? If I am destined to trouble in another world, please rap twice. [ Two raps.] Sprig. The seance is satisfactory. Let us all retire. Mr. Junk. Just as I said. The weevil is in the wheat; we may have a tornado; the brindle cow intends to have the hollow horn; and Quattlewich is going to the devil. Enter Melissa. Aunt S. I object to such a close of the seance, because I feel the presence of spirits which have said nothing, altho they wish to communicate with us. Strange spirit, has Mr: Quattle- wich a living wife? If he has, you may rap twice. [Tico raps] Mr. Q. It lies! It lies! It is not my grandmother's ghost. Mel. Learn about Jewel. Aunt S. Strange spirit! is the dog Jewel in the room? If he be here, please rap twice. [Two raps.] If he be under the table, let us know. Mr. Q. I'll look for him under the table. Aunt S. No! no! no! You mustn't look there. [Forcing him away.] The spirits don't want you to look. Mr. Q. I'll not disobey their mandates. THE yr I RITUALIST. 27 Aunt S. If the clog Jewel be ia the churu, please rap twice. [Two raps.] Mr Q. [Goes to the cliurny and takes Jewel therefrom and -exhibits him.] My friends, you see the complete vindication of spiritualism. Here is Jewel; and he was in the churn, as the spirits said. Unbelief is a vagabond in the presence of such convincing facts. [Exeunt. ACT II.— Scene I. A Hoom in the Empire Hotel, a Summer Resort. Enter Spiuggins, Aunt Sally, Mrs. Dorkins, Melissa and Mr. JUNKINGSON. Mr. J. Jewel was in the churn. We'll have to sell that but- ter at half price. Mel. He was in the milk. Oh my pet! My Jewel! My star! Aunt S. That's the first time I ever saw a dog-star in the milky wav. Mel. Ha! ha! ha! [Exeunt Mbiassa and Mr. Junkingson. Sprig. "Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother," kill this flea! [Slaps Ms legs.] Superstitious old Quattlewich be lieved everything to be as your raps declared, Mrs. Dorkins. When you rapped that he was destined to roast in perdition, he was horrified. I wish I may have'the toothache on the Fourth of July, if I don't believe he has gone home and packed his trunk, so as to be ready for a journey to the bottomless pit. He will probably try to procure a second-class ticket on account of its cheapness. Aunt S. He w ill have no use for what is called a round-trip ticket. Sprig. What odd questions he asked! I wonder that he didn't ask if the souls of dead highwaymen were admitted to the sev- enth heaven. [Sings and capers.] I know that in the Age of 28 THE SPIRITUALIST. Mammals, Our sires were neither deer nor camels; But monkeys that could climb the trees, And there coquet and take their ease. Mrs. B. Quattlewich is my husband; and his real name is Dorkins. Oh, the heartless — the heartless man! He asked if he would be happy after his marriage with Melissa. Ha! ha! ha! O, the wretch! Pie should be allowed to marry Melissa, and then be sent to State Prison for bigamy. \To Spriggins.'] Did my husband Mr. Dorkins, or Quattlewich, as he calls himself, kill Melissa's dog Jewel? Sprig. I killed the dog myself; but Melissa must be con- vinced that old Quattlewich killed him. What a row it will raise between them! {Exit. Aunt S. Mrs. Dorkins, you should watch Quattlewich your husband. You may have some sport. Mrs. D. I'll watch him. Aimt 8. Punish him as he deserves; and we'll help you if we can. [Exit. Mrs. D. Here comes my husband and that simpleton, Miss Melis sa. [Hides behind a screen. Enter Melissa and Quattlewich. Mr. Q. Melissa, why have you been so cold lately? Mel. Oh! I've had the ague. Mr. Q. Ah! my darling, you don't understand me. I would learn why you have been so cold toward me. Mel. Oh dear! Mr. Quattlewich, I was again told that you murdered my dog Jewel. Oh, the martyr! He wished all man- kind good. How I loved him! Mr. Q. [Aside.] If I can only induce her to change the sub- ject. [Aloud.] Alas! we are so made that a thing as worthless as the memory of a dead dog may bar our path to happiness. But I am an exception to the rule; for no ordinary obstacle can bar my path. When I was among the Pigmies of Central Africa, the dogs always assisted the little folks in their wars THE SPIRITUALIST. 29 with the cranes. On one occasion, when the birds had almost routed the Pigmies, the timely appearance of the dogs secured the victory for the little folks, and the birds were compelled to fly the field. Mel. How romantic! How odd! If dogs are so good, why did you kill Jewel? Mr. Q. I kill a dog! Melissa, do you think that a philosoph- ical gentleman, who is also a railroad president, could kill a dog! Mel. I fear you did. Two people told me that they saw you kill him. Mr. Q. I didn't kill him. Who told 5-0 u such an outrageous lie about me? Tell me at once. Oh! I will cane him! I will cane him! Mel. I had him skinned and stuffed. If you will kiss his stuffed pelt, I will be convinced that you did not kill him; for surely no one could have the heart to kiss a remnant of an ani- mal which he had slain. Mr. Q. [Aside.^ If lean only lead her to change the sub- ject. \^Aloud.'\ The idol of one age is the toy of the next. All doctrines must perish, except those of the spiritualistic philos- ophy. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! thy whis- pered lessons of wisdom shall never be forgotten! Will you marry me, my darling? Mel. When I view this, my soul loses its life; and I never, alas! never can marry the murderer of my canine friend. Will you kiss his pelt? [Presenting the stuffed dog.] Mr. Q. During the Carboniferous Age, there was so much carbonic acid in the air that warm-blooded animals, such as man, could not have existed. Neither horses nor dogs — ah! I mean sheep — could have lived. Mel. Jewel was a dog; and he couldn't have lived then. Mr Q. Fury! my dear! My dear, fury! Let us talk about more important matters. Mel. I don't know anything that's more important. 30 THE SPIRITUALIST. Mr. Q, At the beginning of Mesozoic time the amphibians were conspicuous animals. They sometimes grew till they were thirteen feet long; they were amphibious, had teeth, and each eye may have resembled a jewel. Mel. That reminds me of my dead dog Jewel. Will you kiss his pelt, now that I have stuffed him? Mr. Q. Shall 1 tell you a tale? Mel. Jewel had a tail. Mr. Q. The domestic animals appeared on the globe, since the quaternary age began. Mel. Jewel was domestic. Mr. Q. My darling! shall I kiss you or the dog? Mel. Dearest! you may kiss the dog. Mr. Q. My darling, reflect! How absurd and degrading such an act must appear. Love rarely survives the loss of dignity. Love and dignity are Siamese twins. When one of them has worms, the other needs vermifuge. Mel. Oh, my pet dog! Why do 1 love him still? Mr. Q. Because you can't love him barking, I suppose. Mel. Oh, you sarcastic cruel man! will you kiss Jewel's stuffed pelt? Mr. Q. May Satan j:>6Z^ me with brimstone chunks if I do. I am Theophilus Quattlewich, President of the Hodwag & South- western Railroad Company and Member of the American Geo- graphical Society. I am a man of a genius at once brilliant and profound. I did 7^o^ kill your filthy little brute, nor will I kiss any portion of his contemptible carcass. Mel. Oh, horrid! Horrid! He was jiot a filthy little brute. He was a dog of cleanly habits and tender heart. Mr. Q. How cruel you are to me! Mel. It is not cruelty to ask you to kiss Jewel. I kiss Jewel myself, and love to do so. When I go to my farms, I shall always take this reminder of Jewel with me; and, when living THE SPIRITUALIST. 31 iu my city resideuce, I shall always be devoted to the memory of my little pet. Mr, Q. Ah! my darling, your winnin.^ property — winning ways, I mean — overcome all scruples; and I will comply with your request. [Kissing the stuffed poodle.'] My darling, are you satisfied? Mel. Perfectly, my dear; for I know that you are innocent. The place in my heart once filled by the dog is now occupied by you. Enter Mr. Junkingson. Mr. Q. The worst egotists are ever unconscious of their egotism. Most men are born egotists; but I have passed the age of forty, and I view life in the serene light of philosophy. Philosophy" is the science of nature; therefore he who is most natural must be the greatest philosopher. Mel. You are not egotistical, my dear. 3fr. Q. Altho I possess genius, I am modest. I am not too egotistical to kiss the pelt of a dog, if I should suppose that such an act would increase the happiness of one so dear to me. Will you now consent to marry me? Mel. Dearest, I will. Do you believe that dogs have souls which exist after death? Mr. Q. I do, because I attended a seance a few nights ago, and the spirit of a dead Indian girl stated that she was accom- panied by her dog in Heaven, just as she had been during her earth-life. Nothing exists without a purpose; therefore, if dogs exist in Heaven, there must be swine there for them to chase; and, viewing the subject in this light, I find no difficulty in believing that there are hogs in Heaven. Mel. How odd! It grieves me to think that the dogs may bite the hogs. 32 THE SPIRITUALIST. » . Mr. Junk. This world is far from perfect, aud there is pain even in heaven. [Exit. Mel. Oh! here is Mr. Betson. Enter Betson, Mr. Q. Sir, have you the impudence to try to sell me more potatoes? Mr. Betson. No sir. I am collecting money for a sick widow, who is in suffering circumstances. Mel. Oh, poor woman! Here are five dollars for your noble object. [Giving money to Betson. Mr. Q, Here, sir is a sum. [Giving money to B- Bet. What! Three cents! Take them back, sir. You are entirely too generous. Mr. Q. An insult! An insult! [Beating Betson. Bet. I'll bring an officer, and cause you to be arrested at once. [Exit. Mr. Q. By assisting the poor, we encourage pauperism. I trust that I am too much of a philosopher to do much of that. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother! I thank thee that I have been able to vindicate my dignity. Mel. What is a philosopher? Mr. Q. A wise man, my dear — one who thinks and acts wisely. Mel. Then, I fear that we haven't been philosophers of late, Mr. Q. He who is a philosopher under all circumstances is a man under none. Mel. Oh, Mr. Quattlewich, Mr. Betson has gone to find an^ officer; and you may be arrested. Mr. Q. I am not afraid of the police. Mel. You may be fined. Mr. Q. Money is a cash article. Money furnishes Thought THE SPIRITUALIST. 33 with wings. I do not desire to part with my wings. Where should I go? Mel. Hide in that old safe till the oflEicers leave. Mr. Q. It were an act beneath the dignity of a philosophical gentleman. He, who is innocent, yet carelessly places himself where he may be suspected, commits a grave offense indeed. Besidt's I might die there, for want of fresh air. Is there any money in the safe? Mel. Forty dollars. [Opens safe. Mr. Q. I wouldn't touch the money. Who owns the safe? Mel. It belongs to my poor father, who keeps his old love- letters in it; and he made a hole in the safe so that they could have fresh air. Aunt Sally rents this building to Justice Bartlett; and everybody has gone to the river to fish. Mr. Q. I shall never place my physical and spiritual self in such a diminutive and contemptible dungeon as that. When I was in Central Africa — Mel. Oh dear! you may be fined and beaten. What shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, dear! dear! dear! Ml'. Q. Strategy is a mark of genius. I'll save my money, and gratify you, my darling. I will even accept the hateful shade of that ignoble cage, so unworthy of me, if by doing so I can dry your beautiful orbs. Beloved spirit of my deceased grandmother, comfort Melissa! [Enters the safe. Mel. I'll get the key and lock you in, but release you when the officers have gone. [Exit. Mr. Q. Melissa is kind; but what an amusing simpleton she is! Ha! ha! ha! But my pocket-book is safe for the present. Ha! ha! ha! ha! Be enter Melissa. Mel. How romantic! [Locks the safe.] My lover is a phi- 34 THE SPIRITUALIST. losopher and a railroad presideut, aud he is locked iu a safe, and the officers are hunting for bim and can't find him. Enter Aunt Sally and Spriggijss. Aunt 8, Melissa, why are you so flustered? Mel. Oh dear me! Aunt Sally, I don't want to tell. [Exit. Sprig. Where does Mr. Junkingson keep the love-letters that he wrote when he was a bachelor? Amit 8. In that old safe Oh! wouldn't they be rich reading! Sprig. I should ejaculate! Let's open the safe, and read the love-letters. Aunt 8. Spriggins, you are a miniature Beelzebub. Do you suppose that I'll consent to make my ow^n brother ridiculous? Sprig. There is a powder-flask aud a drill in the tool-box under the safe. I'll get ihem aud blow the safe open. Atint S. If you do, I'll take care of the money that's there. I'll put it iu my brother's vest pocket, after he retires for the □ight. Sjyrig. Nobody will hear the report; because everybody except us has gone to the river to fish; and Melissa has just left on the street car. [Drilling a hole in safe and inserting powder, he fires the poicder and the safe flies open. Aunts. Of all earthly objects! ^ [Exit. Sprig. Well! I'll be blest! ' [Exit. Bartlett. [Outside.'] Burglars! Burglars! Burglars! Enter Bartlett, Gall and Betson. Bet. Look at the thief! Bart. [To Quattleicicli, who is emerging from safe.] Caught you in the act of burglary. Surrender, sir. Mr. Q. Never sir, never! I'm innocent. I command you to treat me with great respect. Bart. Surrender, sir. THE SPIKITUALIST. 35 Mr, Q. I'll not surrender lo a mob of bumpkins. I can chastise you all. Cringe! and ask my pardon! you ignorant and inferior mortals! Oall. We've got you, sir. [Seizing Mr. Q., they force hira ojf' the stage.] [Exeunt. SCENE II. Aunt Salli/'s Vilhige Residence. Enter Aunt Sally, Si*Ric4Gixs, Bartlett, Gall, Mr. Junking - SON, Melissa, Quattlewich and Betson. Bart. Mr. Quattlewich! what was your object in going into my safe, if you did not intend to commit burglary? Mr. Q. Burglary! Burglary, did you say! Be careful in your language, sir. When you accu-e a man of my character of such an offense, you are mendacious. We may nave been misled by some malicious spirit; but our object w^as a proper one. Bart. You must acknowledge that the circumstances were calculated to cause suspicion. I left a thousand dollars in the safe, locked the door, and went awny. On returning, 1 heard my safe blown open, and found you coming out of it. Mr. Q. Your safe! Melissa told me that Mr. Junkingson owned it. Didn't you Melissa? Mel. Yes, 1 did. I told him to hide in the safe till his cruel persecutors should leave. Bart. I bought the safe of Mr. Junkingson, a few^ days ago. Didn't I, Mr. Junkingson? Mr. J. Squire Bartlett, you did. But who blew it open? The matter looks suspicious. Mr. Quattlewich, why did you enter the safe? Mr. Q. I don't know wh^ blew the safe open. Owing to an unfortunate— ah! an unfortunate— ah! an unfortunate contro- versy in which I was engaged, I saw fit to place my corporeal frame and spirituality in the safe temporarily. This I did with 36 THE SPIRITUALIST. Melissa's consent; and she, being properly mindful of my con- servation physically and spiritually, locked me in and retained the key. If my object had been to abstract funds, of course I never would have consented to be locked in. I understood that there were only forty dollars in the safe — money belonging to Melissa's father; and, of course, a man of ray immense wealth, social position, talents, and culture would never descend to such a petty act as the theft of so insignificant a sum. Aunt S. He never stole anything smaller than a railroad. Ha! ha! ha! Bart. 1 am convinced that you meant no harm. Forgive us. Mr. Q. I am not one of those who cherish a grudge. When I was in Central Africa, among the savage Niam-Niam {gnam- gnam) I noticed that some of their fiercest wars were results of grudges. On one occasion, an old woman, who was slain to be eaten, proved too tough for food, and her slayers cherished a grudge against her relatives because of the toughness of the flesh, and never missed an opportunity to kill them. I saw some of the old woman's flesh myself. It was very tough — yes, remarkably tough. Aunt S. That's a. tough story. Mr. Q. Madam! be more guarded in your colloquial vocab- ulary in my presence hereafter. Be more guarded, I say! [Exeunt Bartlett, Gall, Junkingson, Melissa, QuATTLEW^iCH and Betson. Aunt S. Isn't Quattlewich a treasure? Sprig. I should ejaculate! A^int S. You got him into a nice scrape about the dog. You were guilty of cruelty when you killed him, and you shouldn't have lied about it. We will intoduce Quattlewich to Psycho, a devil, at the next seance. Can youjrepresent a devil? Sprig. Devil a doubt of it! Aunt S. We will call on Mrs. Dorkins, the wife of Quattle- wich, to help us. THE SrmiTUALIST. 87 bprig. Will she not relent and tell her husband all? Is she perfectly reliable? Will she help me play the devil? Aunt S. She was a schoolmate of mine; and I know that she is perfectly reliable. Sprig. That is sufficient. If she were a schoolmate of yours, there can be no question about her fitness for helping a devil. She'll do. [Sifigs and ea2)e7\