r. •'•e.o^ AOf, . o. *Trfv»* .0'^ '^J 'v0 9 .V-^', //i;^v''-o .,^^\.^>X /.c:^.% ^^-n^ V 0' .0" -. -^t-o^ £1°^ .> ** '•'J^.'Vy V .» 0* -' -s. i^^X ''^ff/ /%. °'>^%^'^/ ,'^^- '-<^, '.JOB?. > -^^o^ !i3 ; ,5iJ.t<:red according ♦o A-rt of Congress, in the year 1903 : '. : ; Bv .'. VINTON WEBSTER In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. R CAS7 OF AUGUSTA Judge Dane Superior Judge Winton Husband of Augusta Tom Smith Friend of the Dame family Blic Son of Judge Dane Hugh Berring. .Saloon-keeper and politician of Virginia City Mark Twain Writer and humorist Lo Doreno Indian murderer Jerry Jessup Will Sidden Friends from Kentucky Judge Blake Friend and counselor of the Jessups Abram Curry Pemitentiary Superintendent, Carson City Happy Jack Stage Driver and friend of Berring Major Wasson Wit and friend of Mark Twain Jack Pot. Gambler, Virginia City Sing Roustabout and dishwasher, Carson Prison Pat Mooney Carson Prison Steward Doctor Duff Prison Surgeon Mrs. Dane .wife of Judge Dane Augusta daughter of Mrs, Dane Helen Jessup sister of Jerry and betrothed of Will Sidden Mrs. Alceista . .a busybody Mrs. Summerville a cholera patient Mrs. Sneider friend of Berring Lena assistant cook, Carson Pison Musicians, dancers, officers, prisoners, etc. J^U^GXJ&^A. A. 13 R .A. Nl .A. irst F^OILJf^ .fVOTS ACT I. Scene i, Town of /\lameda. Old Wharf Road, Oakland in Distance. L'nter Winton, excited. Help ! help ! for the love of heaven help ! Enter Smith. What's the matter, man ; That makes yO'U split the air With that shrill yell of yours? Winton — Hello, Tom ; you come As fortune in the nick of time and as A friend and wisher for the best, I begf Your aid in rescue of my fancy rig And fair Augusta, ere the rising tide Does sweep them out to sea. Smith — Where is the danger? Winton — Yonder; on the road Smith — What strain or mishap caused the ill? Winton — That dark-eyed maiden caused it all ; For months I've paid her court most lavishly But scarce impression made, and so to trim And decorate my love with glint and style I faced the random risk of losing my Equipage, bright and new from Hawley's, And that fine span of spanking bays, bred on The blue giass meadows of Kentucky ; All of which I fear are lost to me. Smith — How came they in the flood? Winton — Well, you see, I sped along the road That thwarts the eye of Oakland. Down to the wharf, with neck and neck of two And forty; turning there with graceful curve That bulged the eyes of all the passengers. Received the sweet Augusta with a bow And smile; then yanked myself beside her Ribbons taut and bit cigar between My teeth and head abaft, we sailed in state Along the heaved up streak of spongy bo'g — When suddenly the horses shied to- left, As startled by a ponderoius gull, dead white, Big throated, squalking as he went. And thus alarmed, as if the Devil stood Upon the track, the team swished sidewise down Into- the murky tide, just reaching flood. At this my hair stood up like bristles on A cornered hog, bayed by a pack of dogs. My teeth did chatter as the rattle of A saw in running through a hickory knot ; While ague fits possessed me like as do The callow huntsmen shooting at a deer. Augusta, seeing my unseemly plight, Drew firmly froim my hands the slackened rein. At this I edged out in the flood knee deep And started on the run for help — Confouind the luck! just see my pants — my boots Are ruined with the slush. And all because I dared to risk a danger for a woman. Smith — Where is the girl? ^Yinton — Do'wn in the runnir-^-' ' ide Behold her holding fast those flound'ring steeds. Like Andromeda doomed by Juno. Smith — May the Devil take you for An escort, ere another ride is yours With beaut}^ brave and highly bred — But come, ceracious champion! The peril thickens round that fair young form — I'd wade a thousand tides, with all the mud. Of forty fords for such a hanid as hers. Uxit Smith and Wiiiton. Unter Mrs. Dane and Son. Mrs. Dane — I fear mishap Hath befallen to Augusta. The ferryboat hath been an hour gone And she not yet in sight. Go', my son, along the hoglash to The wharf and see what ails the missing girl. Elic — I guess she's ran away with Winton, mother, For I seen the caud, with spanking team, Tear by the house, just like a rattled loon Full-fledged and making for the tide. Mrs. Dane — Curb your jarring tongue, my son, And leg it to the wharf in haste. Exit. Enter Smithy Augusta and Winton. Winton — This is a happy rescue. Smith, And grateful to* you am I for it With Aug^usta as endorser. Her dress, just see, perhaps her feet are wet. Surely she is nerve strung to the bone And would a hero be with breeches on. Augusta — The sorry plight my dress is in is of No consequence, but rather is it pique At this uncanny incident. Surely, Mr. Smith, I owe you thanks For timely aid in this affair, and shall Be pleased tO' see you at my father's house. The pretty words of Mr. Winton I Will dry for kindling- wood and lay up in My memory, for future use when I Can eke return of compliment. Exit Winton and Augusta. Smith — Well, that does beat a Hiodoo farce Unknown to blood and thunder ; Rather than unstring my joints Like that poor chouse, and ape a baby Wearing swaddling clothes, I'd surely ride My shadow to its grave, and with contrition Hari kari out my little soul FoT Devil broth, or port it in the boat Of silent Charon to the ugly jaws Of triple-headed Cerberus. The wonder is so' many fools can live Upon the earth without a grain of guidance Bottomed on conceptions sane. A loon that's lost its little wit could cut The caper better, shaming all the breed Of imbeciles that claim the counterpart of God. His thrust at me that I have never been In love, is like a breakfast hash, with more Of hair and hide than wholesome meat. Oh, yes; I've been in love, but since my suit Was dubious from start to finish, I , Had sense enough to let the jewel go When she refused to marry me, and then My recompense is this : she's wedded to My rival, who with fermentations of A brewer's vat, is begging me to help him rid of her By planning an elopement, promising Full half his wealth to me, with latitude A matchless match can make it so. But then, I will not thus decree my fate To one so fatal in her make-up. Exit. Act I. Scene 2, Judge Dane's Parlor. Enter Wvnton. Winton—The home of my sw^eet charmer ! How I love the ground on which she treads ! Not for the virtue in the rotten earth But for the impress of her footprints on it. The opportune has come ; my nerves must brace Me for this chase, and from the sunny fields And verdant meadows of my hopes must house The fragrant hay, ere frost or chilling rain May intervene to injure it. Enter Augusta. Winton — My dear Augusta, may I beg of you Indulgence for a word, most urgently Demanding audience? Augusta — If this gem of thought does worry you So much in seeking utterance, perhaps It is as well to give deliverance and let The darling die or live as best it can. Winton — Pray, my dear withhold your rasping saws And sentimental scrapers, ere I have Divulged the purport of my speech. Augusta — Then make an end of all this labored breath And clothe the thing in raiment more befitting. Winton — Then I will say I am in love with you, Augusta, all the way from toes to tip Of flowers in your hair — stay ! no offense I hope, and though return for it may be With you as light as an abas in pearls Uncut, I will with care convey it to A lapidary skillful in his art, And beg of him to give it lustre such As shall outshine the morning star. Augusta — If you can form a star out of a hope So frail, its manufacture set about ; But do not edge upon enchanted ground lO That's full of blowholes surely dangerous. So kedge your woo and wind the cable up That gives it undue latitude. A lark that sings to win a linnet from Its parent nest is doubtful victory. Winton — But if the lark can give the linnet Better house and sweeter nest, why should The linnet rail against the change? Augusta — Gilded halls and divans rich No mortgage hold on happiness, and oft The thatch-roofed tenement contains more cheer And rondeau lines than domiciles of ease "W^here luxury does wear its gilded toggery And surfeits on its idleness. Life hath duties stern, and he Wo feeleth not the yoke that urges him To carry something of his brother's load Is drawing tO' the day of retribution, Which God imposes through contrition in Another world. Winton — And so the split-hoofed idler With rasping word, who takes no heed of ills That others bear, is but as rubbish of The world and worthy omly of the gibes The footpad warbles from his throat. Augusta — ^The gist of my contention is That toil in avenues that helo us all II To human betterment, hath anchor hold In God's ordaining, while the idler In poverty or rolling wealth, who hath No higher aim in life than selfish ends, Does cumber standing gro'Und, ungainly strutting And unsung to his distempered grave. Winto?! — By all the virgins blest, You seem a stranger to your single self, With frosty words that chatter all my teeth ; Your parents wish this union, why delay The word that will complete my happiness? Augusta — The reason why I love you not ; To' wed a man I do not love would breed A rancor in my heart, to fester in Your strong embrace and chill my life As does a granite wall the myrtle Growing north of it. Winton — O fie o-n such a badden thoiught ; I wish your answer, yes or no, Just say the word and then I'll go. Augusta — Then go. The berries on this bush of love Are green and puckered, sour to the taste. To pluck them now would give the colic sure, Beyond the cure of sage or catnip tea. Exit Winton. Enter Mrs. Dane. Mrs. Dane — How now, Augusta? Mr. Winton's left the house hufTed to 12 The brows, with face as red as snapper on A gobbler's snoop. Enter Judge Dane. Judge Dane — How's this, good brotonoid? The night's a herring passes on beyond Its dark equator, you seem in truth To' be unmindful that the morning star Is dimbing up the Orient, and Hke A wandering seraph smi'.es upon the world. What keeps your inner chamber empty of A lovely form? Mrs. Dane — Compliments aside Though sweet Acarner shines not brighter than Your wits, my business here is knowledge why Our protege left the house a moment since With flaming face and mien that augured not His soon return. Judge Dane — Speak, Augusta, ere fair Venus rings The sable curtain up that ushers in Another day, and bids the sun unfold The glory of his coming. Augusta — I have, my father, not a word to say That's worth your time in hearing it. Nothing surely have I said to give Offense to any man of sense ; a cub Or skittish kitten ; simply have I told The cole, that if I knew my heart it had So far been used but as a pump of life. ^3 And manufacture cheer and sympathy For those of kin. That Cupid's darts were stranger to my blood Save when, with pranks, he flitted by my face As Morpheus held me in his embrace, And that his suit was like the bridle for A colt that never had been bitted for A ride, and that my mind was firmly set On duty here at home and search for lore To broaden out my brains. Judge Dane — You speak in riddles, girl, Like one who has unsteady lodgment on A hade, with dress of hackel words, obscure And dim of sense. You'll stay at home on duty bent, is it? Well, then, what is the duty of a child In midway teens but to obey and do As bid by sire and gentle alma? We must presume to judge in this affair, Which much concerns us all, and you Should cut in twain this caprice Coddled in the mind abo'Ut those evanescent Dreams of love that lives in thatch-roof Cots, or begs in squalor on the streets. Lay off this stale romance of former age, When sonnet did charm a foolish peasantry, And knighthood, dressed in breechclouts. 14 Rode on fiery steeds into the thickest Fight, that valor might a buxom Beauty win, bedecked in skins about The waist, with breast and shinbones Brown and bare and shoeless feet All sprawling at the toes. This is an age of sterner stuff, and he Who sows the wind must reap where Nothing grows, unless it's gleanings of Another's field. Utility is shrouding for the grave All sentiment, and those who hold The pursestrings of the world own all Things else. Virtue offers tribute there And manhood, once so common in this Land, holds out its pleadmg hand for Dole of work or stinted substance. The flood-tide in each life is when The current runs his way, and he who Lingers by the flowing stream in haggle For the start, has lost his opportunity. Much more*s the fear for womanhood. She must accommodate the time in which She lives. She is a plaything in the hands Of ruthless fate, without discretion in Affairs of childish love, when chance does offer Opportunity to marry well. What will you do in this affair? 15 Speak plainly, here and now, Augusta — My noble father, surely would I not in aught offend against your will, Obedient in all things my aim in life Has ever been to serve my home and those In duty bound I am to serve, Withhold not then, I do implore, A daughter's right to choose, or not To choose, as seemeth best to^ her in All affairs relating to the heart. Your counsel, always wise, I will admit, But this concern of yours concerns me Most, and all mistakes of act are at My cost. Judge Dane — Fie on you, girl ! Abjure this fake of yours ! Know Thou, success in every line of life Succeeds by dint of wit, dovetailed about With policy, deep seated in the mind. Fortune, fickle ever, seemeth most •Secure when sitting at the feet of him Who favors most his own. The talisman that leads tO' gilded halls Is cunning brains distilled in selfishness, Wherein, all softer sentiment eats up Its self, as does an eel in hunger Gulp its tail. Augusta — Presume I not tO' say that judgment Is profound in thee, my father ; i6 I^ut then how can 1 see so high above My head? How can a glowworm wear a Hon's mane? Or lily bloom above the tallest pines? God fixed the measure of each thing's Estate to fill its mission in its given Sphere. So t-ach should not reproach The other for its moods, environed as it is For good or ill, and naught can Make it otherwise. I am a woman, have a woman's ways ; Though frail she is and given to conceits Her life is love, and she who loves the Most in all things pure and sweet does Live in truth the nearest God's design. So it seems to me that no onie has The right to sear her heart with ulcers Bred by stopping up its portals in a Match that soul and sense abhor. Judge Dane — Ah ! well do I observe That you can summarize as well as spin. Perhaps I am unduly anxious in this Smudge foi' gain and will not press The matter further in this morning Measure of the night. So take more council With yourself. Educate your wits to view Unbiased stern utility, that holds humanity In the hollow of its hand, and be not 17 Stiff and willful to a selfish end that May embarass all my future plans. Good night and may the morning bring You better council. Exit all. Act I, Scene 2. A Street Scene. Enter Winton and- Smith (Winton prancing about). Smith — Where get you all this supple Marrow mani, that does outdo the Shindigs of a crazy loon? WintonY evily it may be so. Hardly snug can I contain myself. The hills are green with hope again, And light breaks on my soul like some Bright summer day injected at The winter solstice. Smith — How so? Winton — Did you ever see the corn in bloom At Christmas, or the crocus bell break through The drifting snows before the vernal Equinox began to think of spring? Thus seems it now with me. Ambrosia Grows apace ; the linden buds, the lilies bloom, And stern old Boreas bears the ugly night Of death into the frozen world, and hangs i8 The horror splintered on the northern pole. Smith — Lord save the mark! In pity hold this chant to smug Your temper on a rainy day, and give Me pith of what you're shying at. Winton — What am I shying at Say, good friend, I'll wager my roan horse Against two little pigeon toes that you Have never been in love in all your life. Unless it was with leaks and onions, Peppered with your spicy temper. Well, then, to brief it for your sake, Will say, Augusta, queen of manly hearts — No fairer in the land — I've looped with my Existence as a mate to run the race Of life for stakes my father holds. Fortune is a shining charmer in A fickle world, and he who catches her Should be content with self and all things else. For surely he has seized the forelock of His opportunity! Yea, Gods in ecstasy, all working on The remnants of the world could not produce Another such as she ! Her words fall like the harmony Of some old song — remembered since The world was young. 19 Pray, Smith, go hug yourself till breath Comes back to me again. Smith — With what uncommon skill of magic did Yo'U use to baffle common sense and beat The necromancer in a race for love. Without a leg to run upon? Winton — How did I win her? Ask these whispering oaks, They know the story all by heart. For once they were as young as we and were In lo've with sentiment, so here have stood With open ears foT centuries and heard The simple swain and maiden stories, long Fo'rgotteni, save by them and moving ticks That sing their requiem forever here. But tO' be a little more precise I'll give a hint of how the thing is did, So yoti, perhaps, may profit by the line When Cupid finds you in a melting mood. 'Tis this. If you would ever surely win A maiden, woo her mother first and as You gO' blaze well the way to minds and hearts Utilitarian by show in hand Of substance rich or which comes by quick Inheritance, for money in this world Does take more tricks in gambling of this kind Than cooing with the tender plant of love. 20 These elder people oince had sent'ment. Perhaps in Cupid's hands entrusted, But lengthy steep in life's realities Doth brave the strength the little god contains And sets the heart en something more secure. My father's rich ! That is the shining tail That wags all worldly dogs and surely finds A woman primping much tO' catch the cade P'or pith of every daughter's dower. And SO' another moon with all its change And fickleness, will hardly shine and wane Again before I call her legally My own, when like the droning bee that sips The dreamy sweets of rose or poppy bloom, I'll while away the fleeting hours. Exit. Enter Augusta. Augusta — Well, It seems I'm to be a victim to That monster bred in Hades, having aims No higher than the dross and glum of cold utility. O sweet heaven! couldst thou straighten out The crooks and warps that puny pride and greed Have seared with shame and wrinkled on the world's Affairs, and let simplicity and love Of right prevail again, God's work In man's uplifting would be manifest. 21 The life environed that a woman leads Does often turn to gall the impulse of Her bleeding heart and makes a mockery Of marriage worse than bonds of precedent That in some tribes yet bear her trembling form To breathe its last, and, black with su^ocation. Moulder in the rotten earth beside A tyrant dead. Perhaps it may be for the best, who knows? So frail are we in judgment that the sage Is often short in demonistratiom of A single truth. So we tramp the path Of all the millions passed without a guide To point the way that each should surely go, Poior, puny man ! And yet is full of pride ! Ah, well ! there seems no other route for me Than that my austere father has prescribed. May scanty hope and t me but ease the pain Of this great sacrifice, for hope is all There is of dayl ght in this world of mental gloom That shadows all the landscape of my life ; Surely there is recompense fcr duty Well perfoTmied, else heaven is a myth And virtue but a passing dream. The benefit of doubt in this affair I'll give my counselor and yield to him My callow judgment, but whatever else May fail me in this tribulation 22 Truth and duty, ever foremost in The best resolves, shall be the pole star of My destiny, as follows forth the trusting Mariner the bearings of his steadfast Compass, however rough the surging seas With troubled waters. Act I, Scene 4. Room in Judge Dane's House. Enter Winton and Augusta. Winton— hike some silurian of The under world with light and shadow mixed, The earth, with oscillating dips and turns, Has doubled round the sun two several times Since first we knew the bl'ss of wedded life. So far so good, But then the world is not quite all a dream. The rasping sear of dull, cold facts intrude Continually their ugly faces, And mix the sweet and wormwood so together That life does hold the scale 0(f good and ill About in even balance. But be this as it may. With shay and spavined horses we Have rolled the dusty road that seems to link Lrike umbil cord our father homes, until The stay is doubtful welcome to us both. So I must turn another leaf in life's Erratic volume, ere it be too late To keep the company of self-respect ; And since my sire seems a little curt And mdispO'sed to lax the taut upon His pursestrings aiding in my betterment I see no other way along this rough And flinty track than taking up the cinch And riding stride myself. And since there seems no other route to better This predicament, 1 have resolved To take a tramp acro'ss the cloiud-bound snows That hedge us from that wonderland where all The hills are ribbed with shining ore and laked About with slumps of puddled silver. Augusta — Emergencies make men, sometimes Of timber not selected from the best, So I concur in yonr resolve. Enter Judge Dane and wife. Judge Dane — Indulge us for this rash intrusion For I hear you do propose a jourmey To the wilds of Old Nevada, where Now centers much of worldly thought and hope Of gain beyond the shadow of a want. Winton — True, indeed, I go, As one oppressed with weight of care for one So surely mine. The wolf is in the fold of my estate With teeth all set to chew the ragged end 24 Oi nothitiig which is dowery from my sire. Mrs. Dane — Your wealthy father might Afford yowr land and stock and shelter for A time, until by dint of care you could Secure a comj>etence. Winton — Sweet mother of my ablative, In all thy learning didst thou ever hear Of the accipitrine, in science called A tchuck, a species of the marmot tribe, And brought from Persia centuries since? If not advised, please read up on this score And you will comprehend the make-up of The average man when he hath wealth Beyond the normal lust of common need. Mrs. Dane — And of Augusta, what becomes of her? Winton — As with a lovely plant, Full blown in some rare garden of the gods, Untimely rooted up and robbed of all Its fresher sweets, the chief concern shall be For knack of my abiUty to make Provision foT her coming. And in abeyance do I wish To place your tender care about this gem Of aromatic growth unused to storm Or biting frost. Mrs. Dane — ^Be it so. She is my blood And whiat I have is hers, for mother is 25 The counterpart in name for love of those She gave to life. Judge Dane — Then speed you onward, Hope we always good will come of it. Winton — So, so. It's settled now. Good-bye to all, And may I live forever green in your Sweet memory, my dear Augusta. [Kisses her.] Exit all. (Song.) I cannot love, for once I loved A laddie in the mountains. He lived where all the hills were groved And waters flowed from fountains. And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river — Forever ! O Forever ! And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river. I told him that I loved him so I never could another^ And wheresoever he sho-uld go I wished to be his — mother. And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river — Forever ! O Forever ! And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river. 26 He seemed the picture of despair Amd sought to soothe him lonely, When, shook his head with saddest air And said he loved one only. And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river — Forever ! O Foirever ! And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river. So mourned he for one love long lo'st And I for one consuming, And thus came chill and bitter frost When lilac buds were blooming. And O'U and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river — Forever ! O Fore^^er ! And on and on the streamlets ran To join the brimming river. Act I, Scene 5. Hotel Office. Sacramento. Enter Augusta. Augusta (to the Clerk) — Can you tell me Something of the route and company I will have in transit to Virginia City? Clerh — The grades are steep, But not severe in rut and rock ; 27 With curves and windings 'mid the hills and peaks And depths of God's great abyrinths of pine And cedars planted there befoire the flood, Which speak of might and call tO' worship high Above the steepled church each passenger Who loveth nature in its majesty. As to yo'ur company, I cannot tell Except this gentleman who goes to-day — Mr. Berring, this is Mrs. Winton, On her way to Virginia City To meet her husband, who's residing there. A stranger to the route, she seeks tO' know Its difficulties and the company That stages it this morning. Berring — Glad I am to meet you, Mrs. Winton, Your husband is a friend of mine. The jo'Urney is not difficult and on The way there are so many grand surprises Topped with God's magnificence that in Their view odd Time forgets the countinig of His lagging hours. Your company it does appear will be Indififerent. The iron-nerved And skillful driver, Charlie, holds the reins, So, the score is safe in that direction. I will be a passenger and beg The privilege tO' serve ycur smallest need. Augusta — I think my needs will be a cipher, since 2S Provision ample's fully made and all My bag^gage checked. Exit Aiigusta. Berring (to Clerk) — By jingo ! she's a gem All cut with setting golden. Not a flaw Or break in all her make-up. Seemmgly A little cold and formal surely, but I'll bet a keg of sparkling rye that ere We reach Virginia City she will tame A bit in her austerity. Clerh — Be cautious, Fredy. That man of hers may lay you out In winding-sheets before you are aware Of it, and of your stock in trade consume The contents of a brandy barrel in Preserving what is left of you. Berring — I know the chappie well, And have no' fear of shot or shell In his employ. Vanity does rock Him in her cradle with a lullaby, In which he dozes dreamily as does A pig that's full of milk. Act I, Scene 6. Cape Horn, Sierra Mountains. Enter Two Bobbers. First Bobber — Well, pal ; how long 29 Have you followed the trade of road Agent? Second Robber — Seven vears. First Robber — What induced this calling? Second Robber — The Devil. First Robber — How so? Second Robber — By hedging me about With conditions damaging. First Robber — Fie on you man ! Your Trumpery answers nothing — wherein lies The pith of your speech? Second Robber — Well, my father did to his Advantage kick the scuttle early. Mother Was devoted, with a sister loving, who^ Rustled for me. while the days passed as vSo many dreams without a care for those Who toiled that T might have repose. Unhappily my mother died and sister Spliced another man. Then sat I on the Hollow of a log and whittled sticks In cogitationi of my lost supports. And how to live a gentleman without The grime of toil. My kin and friends Did stake me for a time but soon they Gave me shoulder colder than a clam. Then hired out as clerk in Randolf's Country store for board and clothes. 30 This drudgery and lack of means did grind Me to the quick and soured all my Better self. The pressing need of moiney caused me Cinch the till, with hope that cunning Would avail against dishomesty. But Nemesis followed me so closely That suspicion camped along my track. And finally pounced down upon my Robberies. At this I skipped like antler hounded To the hills and took a cue as agent On the road. And you? First Robber — Oh, my pedigree is Brief, and full of kinks. I had no father and my mother Housed with chumps, whose only virtue Was in waiting oppoTtunity to steal. Thus environed, is there wo'nder that I graduated early, starting out As fortune hunter with a burglar's kit? But why bemoan a lurid destiny? We are as debris on a flooded stream That moves forever, witht the current Leading, swinging round the eddies as we go To Erebus, or led by a thread to Lacheris — But hold ! The stage grinds round The Cape and opportunity is pricking 31 Up his ears, so hide we and await The issue. [Secrete themselves.] Act I, Scene 7. Mountain Pass. Enter staige with pas- sengers. Two robbers appearing by the roadside. First Rohler — Hold your horses, Stranger, and throw us out the box Of boodle ! Stage Driver — 'Tis light to-night And will not pay your plunder. Robber — No mincing words but pungle. Or I'll bore you full of holes. Stage Driver — All right, put up your Gun. More holes would make me less A man and may be measure me a box. Here is the wallet. Gorge all you can And take the consequences. Second Robber (peering in the stage) — Who's in the dugout? Berring — A lady and myself. Robber — Then condescende to alight myself, And lady ditto. Berring — You wouldn't harm a Lady, surely? Robber — Mum, bind your chops, you Z2 Skipjack, or else I'll go through You with dose ol brimstone and metallic Salts, so get out double quick. And you, miss, madam, follow suit ! Augusta — For what reason shall I Leave the stage? If robbery is your Purpose, here's my purse and all 1 have of value. Robler — The purpose is my own and Best it is that you obey my order ! (Augusta alights. Robber peers in her face.) By Garry ! she's a duck of the first Water ! Fit to be companion of an Agent moist accomplished in his art. From railroad president up to those Who live more leisurely among the hills. A kiss I crave just now, and more Substantial s afterwards. (Takes hold of Augusta.) Berring — Hold, damn villain ! How dare You touch a hair of hers ! (They fight and Berring swings the robber over a yawning precipice. In the melee the horses run away, throwing Augusta to the grouuid. First robber and Berring empty their pistols at each other over the pros- trate form of Augusta, then clinch and a desperate strug- gle ensues. Finally Berring swings the robber over the precpice, barely saving himself by clinging to a sapling on the brink.) 33 Berring — By the holy cross That is business worthy of a Titan! The robbers and the stage are gone, Mrs. Winton,, swooning-blank with fear. And I a wounded cripple. How can I aid her? I'll try a sprinkle Of this snow upon her upturned face, Perhaps it may rescuscitate. Augusta (sitting up) — Where am I? Berring — On top the Sierras, alone with Me, after a tug with the robbers. Augusta — Oh, yes: 1 do remember something Of it now; but then it seems the Shadow of a dream more than reality. Where is the sta!§:e? Berring — The horses frightened at The belching guns, with willing driver, Treked it down the grade at breakneck speed. WHeVe they now are T know not. Augusta — Where are the robbers? Berring — Gone down that blufif tO' And dine to-morrow with the devil. Augusta — What caused the fight? Berring — Perhaps you will remember that The burly fellow harshly bid you leave The stage, and while, with chiseled features, Leaning on the muddy wheel, he peered I 34 With lustful eyes into your marble face, And, seizing hold about the waist, did seek Pollution of your lips, with snoup and breath That garlic could in measure sweeten. While using coarser words of action Baser afterward. I could no longer stand this gibe of hell, With his efifrontery. My mother was a woman, pure and good, And since her love and ministration Settled like a hallow on my heart, I dare all things where virtue is at stake. And therefore bid a bold defiance to The chit. My clutch about the gullet forced His breath into a whistling calliope. This loosed his hold on you, and, struggling for The' brinking of that yawning precipice, Fortune favored me and started down To Pluto with the robber. The first disposed, the second came, With blazing gun, and saddled for a ride To death or victory. Our pistols met And belched their shot and sulphur smoke Across your prostrate form. Then empty iro^n battered on our heads Like tattoos on a kettle drum. The clinch — it came at last! And each did struggle manfully to save 35 His ugly fortune, balanced in the scale, So evenly that hope stood still as when An earthquake plows its passage through the earth With ridging waves beneath the helpless feet. At every turn we nearer margined on The brink of that destructive fall ; Then came the tug that told for time And for eternity. By movement quick and dextrous, I sent Him whilrling to his vicious comrade down A thousand feet below, and by a skint Oi chance was left behind him short of breath And coatless, hanging to that tree. Augusta — Are you hurt? Berring — Oh, well. T think not seriously. My shoulder's cut acro'ss, and gun shot Tn my arm. Augusta — Where ? Berring — (pulling of¥ the residue of his coiat and ex- hibiting a bloody shirt sleeve) — Just here. Augusta — The blood flows freely, and with This flounce I'll bind it up securely. (Tears flounce ofif of her dress.) Stage V river (in the distance) — Hello, there, Mr. Ber- ring! Are you dead entirelv? Berring — No, no; not quite, 36 Charlie. Where is the sta^e? Stage Driver — Around the curve, full half a mile. Berring — Round your team, and back it quickly. Stage Driver — Never a bit ! The road is so narrow that a frog with a long tail could not make the turn. Berring — I fear the ladv cannot walk so far. Mrs. Winton — Yes, I feel quite strong. That snow bath did its work completely. Exit all. Act 2, Scene i. Virginia Crty. Enter Berring and Mark Twain. Mark Twain — Hello, Fritz. How do you curb the und(ammed current of Your love since making that great conquest on The mountain top? Berring — The conquest you suggest Is ail within the hollow^ of your strained Imagination, long diseased. By breeding myths and spooky hoboes. Mark Twain — Oh, Albion, great Son of Neptune! Dt? forbear to smear vour skillet sauce On spongy bread that's buttered twice. It w^as conveyed to me by simple word And paper squib that you in brave defense 37 Of womanhood had g.'ven quietus to Two robbers, and had wo'n a lovely one, Unwooed before by manly action. Berring — Mo^st certainly. There was a woman in the case ; A jewel surely rare upon the earth,. But husbaned by another man, and I A simple worshiper, and, vain of hope As drivinig Ethan throiigh the clouds, She thanked me condescendingly for all The service rendered. No'thing moire of this There is, I can assure you. Mark Twain — How is your hurt? Berring — Improving rapidly. Mark Twain — What kind of rag Is that you have aroimd it? Berring — It is a tuck From that fair woman's gown. Discovermg my predicament, She ripped it at a jerk and bound it on My arm to swage the running blood. 3Iar]c Tiualn — I'll give you half an ounce of gold for it, Berring — W h eref or ? Mark Twain — Oh, I simply wish it as A souvenir to show my friends how much There is in human nature to admire 38 And measure up the breadth of gallantry Of man for woman wrong-ed, without the hope Or lingering wish for recompense. Berririg — Hold, man! Go take a Hammam bat.i, And wash this jaundice from yC'Ur scurvy blood That blurs the wits and makes a little shad Of common sense. This rag to you is nothing, while to me It's much, and all your wealth could not secure A shred of it. Marl: Twain — Dispel your jealousy, my boy. I see I've struck a tender spot in your Anatomy; but let me give you just A little poser. Didst thcu ever see A pair of breeches full of love and fury? Set off dynamite with fuse and shell, Or ford a river Rowing into- hell? If so, and dread such consequence Then give a married womafu room to spread Herself as does a trapper wing his net ; But never be a thing so foolish as The chippering quaik to seek the dismal fork Of such calamity. The green-eyed monster, warmed a.nd hatched By ugly fantasies, would range the depths Of pandemonium to reach his cuckler, The earth does reek with blood of victims Slaughtered on the vile and crooked paths 39 Of libertines, while heaven's justice Seemingly approves their taking off. Berring — Whence turned vou thus a moralist, And bulge Pandora's box of ills for all Who dare to court a lovely woman not His own ; and if he can cut loose a bond Of hers that makes a marriage but A mockery of love ! Be doine with this arrav of virtue which Is stranger to your blood and ill becomes Your father's scald-headed progeny. I have no ill design, nor w^ould I harm The smallest hair of fair Augusta's head ; But since the noble soul of Cataline Was taken far beyond the vaulted Ether chambers in the universe or God that separates the burning stars, No form or face, in my esteem, does whet To life again the deep regard in which I hold her, as this gem revealed to me Most strangely opportune. I know and watch my ropes as do^es A sailor on a doubtful sea where tides Nor winds make not a swell upon the deep, Unseen nor heeded not bv him. Besides, my antecedents are as good As hers ; for there does run within my veins The blue blood of a line of kings. 40 Caped with tone, unsullied doAvn to date. So, Clemens, lose no sleep on my account. A coon of my proportions never sticks His head into a trap set as a snare To catch a cotton tail. Mark Ttuain — Oh, blame your titled Imbeciles and sceptered monarchies. The pa,£^e of history does reck with them, Remembered mostly for their tyrant strut And bitterness of soul. The kings of men are those who dare the right. And damn a wronig or poltroon anywhere. Exit Clemens. Enter Winton. Winton — Glad to meet you, Berring. I came to thank you for the favor dome My wife, and bring from her congratulations. Your wound is healing rapidly, it seems ; And with the poultice off the scar will be A souvenir to show your friends in years To come, while eloquently rehearsing The story of your prowess. But, vv'ith ail your service, came I for Another favor that much concerns My future welfare. Berring — Name the service I can render you. Winton — The place not being yet filled. 41 1 seek the Governor's appointment to The office of County Clerk. And, fully comiprehending value of Support of yours, 1 ask it as a friend. Berring — Though hedged about with applications for The place, you hold my preference. And, having now the Governor's ear, I think I can secure you that appointment. But before I promise sure I wish A word with yoii about a matter Vital to your future. Winton — Proceed. I am all ears tO' hear Your candid counsel. Berring — 'Tis well. Your wife is handsome. The fairest in the towni, and even now Has full a score of men half rattled when They bow or chance a word with her, yet You keep the treasure, unsuspecting, in This crow'ded hostelry. You tramp about the streets in search of work. And do allow her doubtful company. Instead of taking pains to go with her Yourself, which half discretion would suggest. Winton — Her breed is good. And virtue steadfast as a star. Why then Suspect the sun of sheer inconstancy, Because its golden light doth gild and warm 42 The blackened world? Berring — I do concede the beauty of The parallel, but in the bottom runs Of human nature conscience has no place, And even higher in the scale of life The animal does sway its destiny. When sense of soul and common honesty Forsake it m pursuit of ghoulish lust And strife for g-ain abnormal. The spirit may be willing, but all flesh Is weak, and it is not uncommon that The drifted snow grows murky under heat And dust ; the lily taints in company With fungus growth and deadly upas. So he who loves a woman or a garden Pure and sweet must love the welcome care And labor that will keep them so. The fool who leaves his fairest jewels where The conmion herd can see and finger them, Excites a disposition to purloin. Candidly, I like your wife, and from My knowledge of the sordid make-up of The world, I know the danger she is in And warn you now in time. Get yourself a home and mind You nurture it with circumspection Mingled in with love and gentleness. Which will, if persevered, bring down the stars 43 Or take yon up to them. Winton — Your words are wisdom of The better sort and heed I will with thanks Your timely warnings. Exit all. Act 2, Scene 2. A Ballroom, Gold Hill. Enter Pat O'Riley, singing. The zephyr plays among the hills. The swain his g'irl caresses ; And dallies, while old time he kills, In playing with her tresses. The stakes are set up on every grade And claims hold down the dollars, While women on the streets parade To catch defenseless fellows. Then up with hats ! the winter's past, The springtime brings the clover; While every man has hope at last And everv lass her lover. Clialinchalay chalinctum dell, We're on the brimming river. That floiats all souls to ill or well, And this goes on forever, And this goes on forever. [Dances.] 44 The bi^ four ride the Conistock lode. And claim they have a billion; While splitting stocks with silver goad To satisfy the million. They buck the tiger of the band, With Flood tide swimming fences, While Johnny digs and whispers loud And Jamey takes their senses. Then up with hats ! the winter's past, The springtime brings the clover; While every man hath hope at last, And everv lass her lover. Chalincturn lay, chalinctum dell, We're on the brimming river, That floats all souls to ill or well, And this goes en forever, And this goes on forever. [Dances off the stage.] Enter Bandmaster, music and dancers of every grade and dress. J Bandmaster — Take your partners for a quadrille. (Music.) First four right and left. Second four. Ladies change. Gents . 45 Enter Lo Loreno (intox"catecl, approaching Mrs. Winton on the flo'Or.) Loreno — Biieno, seniorita ; heap nice. Give me a kiss. (Takes hold of Augusta.) Jerry Jesswp (partner of Mrs. Winton) Scoundrel ! how dare you in,sult a lady? (Knocks Loreno down. A g-eneral melee; several shots fired ; ladies scream ; leave the room in confusion.) Exit all. Act 2, Scene 3. A CTaming Hoiise. Enier Jerrv Jessuv (intoxicated.) Jessup — Mv purse is low and spirit Bad, and so for change I'll try My luck in bucking: at this monte bank. Heres an eagle, 'tis the last I have, And so I'll drop it on this ace of Hearts. Enter Will Sidden. Sidden — Hold there, Jerrv ; You are seas over, so you'll bet No more to-night. Come home with me. Gamhler — Sir, what right have you To break my game with this impertinence? Sidden — I beg a pardon, but this is 46 My friend, and as you see, he's sheeted In the wind without a tiller wheel. Come pike, let's worry homeward. (Piills Jessup from the room.) Enter Lo Loreno. (Aside.) Dis pike's de humbra hit me at De ball (exhibiting a big knife), T kill him for it now in dis black night. Exit. Act 2, Scene 4. A Dark Street. Enter Bidden and Jessup (Jessup drunik, Sidden pulling him.) Sidden — Come along, Jerry, the night Dreary and the wind is high. Jessup — Oh, you-you too-too da-dam S-smart, Sidden. A f el-low ca-can't Ha-have a good ta-time withou-out You po-pokmg you-you no-nose int-to Someb-body else b-lnisiness. Sidden — Come, come, Jerry, what would Your mother and sister think if they Should behold you thus? 47 Enter Lo Lor em (slipping aloiig in the darkness stabs Jessup in the back and disappears.) Jesmp (faUing to the ground)— O God ! Tm stabbed to death ! Siclden — Where? Jessup— In the back. Draw the knife Before I die. Sidden (drawing out the knife, cries)— Help ! Help! murder! murder. Enter Policeman. Foliceman — What's the matter here? Sidden— My friend has been stabbed To death by some villain slipping Up behind Policeman — What are vou doing With that bloody knife? Sidden— \Why, I just pulled it Out of my friend's back. Policeman— A pretty story, surely. I have caught you in the very act Of murder. Come with me. Sidden— Caught me in the act of murder. How? Policeman— You still retain the bloody knife With clothes bespattered with the Gore. 48 Sidden — The charge is false as hell ! He is my friend, whom I was leading Home, half drunk, from Tnpper's gambling Hall. Policeman — Your story is too thin for surface Diggins in these parts, so come to jail.. Exit. Act 2, Scene 8. Kentucky Home of the Jessups. Mrs. Jessup, an invalid. Enter Helen Jessup. Helen — Dear mother, after months Of waiting I have a letter here Received to-day from those we love, Who dwell in that far region of the West w^here daylight glows her final Ending, when the curtain of the night Is stretched midway the ocean. Mrs. Jessnp — Read the letter, my daughter, This suspense oppresses me. (Helen breaks the seal and glances over its contents, much agitated.) Mrs. Jessup — Helen, I bid you read The letter to me without delay. Helen — I can not, mother; it would Kill you. 49 Mrs. Jessup — Give me the letter immediately. (Helen hands the letter to her mother and bows her head in her parent's lap.) Mrs. Jessup (reads, screams) — O God! it is All over with me now ! (Dies taken off the stage.) Enter Squire Blake. Squire Blake — Well, Miss Helen., I come to offer condolence regarding- The loss of your noble mother, and I understand you have another trouble Outlined in a letter recently received From friends in the far West, which Seems to have been the chief cause of Your parent's untimely taking off. Will vou give me some detail of this Unhappy affair? Helen — Here is the letter that killed My mother, and the incentive that Impels me to visit Nevada. (Squire Blake reads.) Virginia City, Aug. 26, 1861. My Dear Helen: Since I last wrote You a great calamity has overtaken us. Two years agO' the 29th of April last Your Brother Jerry was fatally stabbed On a public street of this city, he 50 Falling from my arms and dying almost Immediately, without speaking more than a word. I got nothing save a glimpse ol The murderer, as he approached us from - Behind, stabbing Jerry in the back, Then disappearing like a shadow in The blackness of the dreary night. Thoughtlessly I withdrew the lo.ng dirk From the wound and yelled murder. At this several citizens ran to our Relief, and with them a policeman Who observing me with the bloody Knife in hand, charged me with the Crime, and conveyed me to the lockup, Where I have been detained ever Since. In a trial before the United States District Co'Urt I have been found guilty as Charged, and sentenced for a term Of three years at hard labor in the Territorial prison, near Carson City, Which is nearly ready for occupancy. I am sure this recital will be a blow Terrible to yourself and mother. I have delayed writing for months, Hoping a favorable turn in my case, But the burden of proof seems to be Against me, and everybody is so busy With his own affairs that a jury would 51 Agree to hang a saint rather than Be detained twenty-four hours. So, in justice to you, however trying- The OTdeal, I feel duty bound to give You the facts. I ,hope your verdict will be reserved Until }cu learn more of this matter. If I cannot prove my innocence ; if I am to go tlirough life with the verdict Of vour brother's blood en my hands, Death can be my o-nlv consolation in This world. My only hope is that a time will come When this foul murder will out. And the suspicion resting upo^n my name may be removed. May vour Christian fortitude sustain You in this trying hour. God bless you and farewell. Your wretched but devoted, William Sidden. Squire Blake — This is a fearful recital, Miss Helen, And should stagger your determination In the hazardious joiurney proposed. Helen — It is the cowardly only who Staggers when plain duty calls, and Makes excuses for a w-ill unnerved. Squire Blake — Do you believe William Sidden guilty of this crime? Helen — Do vcu believe that Gccl reigns And the Redeemer lives? Squire Blake — Certainlv I do. Helen — Do you believe there is Any honor or virtue in the world? Squire Blake — How vou talk, my child! Your blazing questions burn down in To my heart, and brace my better nature To declare ther does exist the sweetest \irtue and the fairest honor. Helen — Ah, well. And so do I Believe in this divinity And offer up devotion daily, For proof of God's infinity is found Complete in the complexitv of flesh And mind and soul commingled in a way That makes the dust we tread upon to breathe And walk and think. Thus baffling the cogitations of The skeptic, setting all philosophy At naught, and placing sober science in The nursery of thought, like children Swaddled and diverted bv The tinklmg of their rattles. And yet my faith in this unriddled Manifest is but as dross compared To that I have in "William Sidden's Innocence. 53 Squire Blal'e — Rut the burden of proof Seems agfainst him. Helen — So it seemed ag^ainst Christ in The trumped up charges that he had violated Roman law, and suffered pangs of death Between two malefactors. Did the world lose faith in Him for that? No, no ; it was the culmination of a love The like of which was never known before Or since, and come what may for good Or ill, my faith in God and he who is Betrothed to me shall never budge an inch In my devotion. Squire Blake (aside) — By my mother's grave I'd rather have such love as that In camp or hollow tree, than lace 'Of gold And fine prtmella in a castle rich And rare in every luxury. Then go, my girl ; I'll caw no mere at your Strong bent, for all there is of beauty in The world that's worth the name will follow vou. May heaven bless this high resolve and break Sweet daylight in each path you may be called To tread. 54 Act 2, Scene 5. Home of the Wintons. Enter Wintoji and his lUtle girl. Winton' — Where did papa's l:)aby get So much candy. Bahy — Miser Herring dave it to me. Winton — How often does he come here When papa's gone? Bahy — Oh, I dasn't no. Sometimes, and Brings me tandy. Winton — So, so ! Enter Augusta. Winton — Augusta, for what'purpose Is Mr. Berring allowed to visit you From day to day, and always in my absence? Augusta — Seldom does he come and then Not of my choosing. Winton — Why then comes he at all? Augusta — Because you have insisted that I give him no offense. Shall I forbid The house to him? Winton — If you can man-age it in way T'hat wards supicion ofif my wish. Augusta — What do vou mean by that? 55 Winton — Well, you know I am much Stuffed with obigations to the man For favors shown politically and otherwise. So to offend would be my funeral Heap of martyred inidiscretion. Augusta — Then you want him gone without Suspicion that you did demand his Going. Winton — That's it, exactly, dear Augusta. Not a downright dose of peppered words, But in that way a w^oman knows the best How to relieve herself of an unwelcome Visitor. Augusta — Very well ; vour word is Law to me in this affair. Exit. Act 2, Scene 6. A Street in Virginia City Enter Winton and Mrs. Alcesta. Mrs. Alcesta — Good evening, Mr. Winton. How's your wife to-day? Winton — She was well this morning When I left home. Mrs. Alcesta — Somebody else seems More attentive. to Augusta than yourself. Winto7i — To whom do you refer? 56 Mrs. Alcesta — Well, I don't wish To make trouble between man and wife, But you observe I live here where I Can't help seeing everybody going to Your house, and it seems my duty as A virtuous woman to reveal what I Have seen since you moved up on The hill. That is, if you would like To hear it? Winton — Go on with your story. Mrs. Alcesta — Of course vou know Mr. Herring is a constant visitor at the House in your absence? Winton— A constant visitor! What do You mean, woman? Mrs. Alcesta — Well, perhaps I ought Not to say that, but he is there quite Often. Winton — How long does he stay? Mrs. Alcesta — Well, I should say from Half to an hour and a half, and the Curtains are usually drawn down When he comes. Oh, it is really awful to think of A married woman letting another Man in the house while her husband Is absent. 57 I should not dare do such a thino^ Unless it happened to be some particular Friend or intimate acquaintance, For you know temptation is continually set In the way to take advantage of our little weaknesses. Your wife, I may say, is proud and haodsome, Will not notice me upon the street and Seems indififerent to those who may behold Her callers, as if in blind contempt of Other people's tOiUgiies. And as a friend, with much Experience in the world, I would Advise you come up from Business unexpected ; look out a bit For lady love, stray letters, doubtful In propriety J or some fine day Your duckv may be missing. Act 2, Scene 7. Winton's Parlor. Enter Wintoti and Augusta. Winton — Well, my lady, I have You at last in the hollow of my Hand. Here*s a letter from your lover Which I fortunately intercepted at the Post this afternoon. It tells the story of your faithlessness 58 To me and attachment for a villain Weairing the garb of a friend. Augusta — I do not understand you. Mr. Winton, please explain yourself ! Winton — You don't hev ! Then read This letter and tell me what it means. Augusta (reading) — San FranciscO', Oct. lo, 1861, My Dear Mrs. Winton: I herewith send The baby some trinkets and yourelf A diamond ring, which I trust You will accept and wear as a Smiall token of my esteem. 1 shall remain in the city some Weeks and hope to meet you during Your stay in Alameda. Devotedly yours, Fritz B Wiiiton — That's a duck without feathers, Ain't it? Devotedly yours. Surely He is . A lark with a wanton's wing Roosting on my threshold. Hell and blazes ! Where's thy virtue, Woman? This thing smells to heaven And all pandemonium is leering at A cuckold fool. I shall preserve this darling evidence 59 In action for a quick divorce which I Propose to institute immediately. Augusta — I can assure you, Mr. Winton, That I have never given Mr. Berring Encoiiragement to write such. If he has been so foolish indiscreetly To pen such flattering- compliments to a Married womian, certainly I should not Be held responsible in this affair. Winto7i — Oh, no; certainly not. But how about expecting to^ meet Yo'U soon in Alameda? Augusta — Mr. Berring learned of my Proposed visit to Alameda, here in Your presence one evening, when the Fact WcS inadvertently mentioned — There is niothing more in this affair I can assure you. Winton — Woman', take me not ior some Ungainly ass, that brays aloud and wags His skinny tail ; then dopes his greedy maw With mouldy fodder. I know a kit Of stinking fish by smelling it. And for a man, that's sane, to breakfast on A dowdy shad and call it clean. Forgets the honor of bis mother. DO Sleeping like a lewd in dirty sheets Not of his soiling I am content to let the devil take His own and fry the fat of hypocrites Who fawn and whime of virtue wronged, Then set up shop where virtue never goes. So, heniceforth, as streams converging at Their soiurce, diverging as they onward move To' rivers never joined ; Let us drink of Lethean waters That remembrance may Ijlot the page Of its unhappy record. Augusta— Ah ! Well ! If thou durst will it thus, 't's surely done; But then this hemlock trippled bittered by The pique and garget of your angry words Is draught of hell's own cheerless choosing, Staggering the valid witness of Your antecedents In honest, upright souls, this sleeping child Should lend degree of sympathy between The figure and gargol oi your angry words The pair that give it life, and soften down Asperities, that grow like arbor gourds In jealous minds. There are stabs o^f dangerous import That time may heal, but when a heart is pierce. The life it did sustain must fail 6i And witlier like a tiower frosted for The grave. I was a child in years when vou did plead My hand, with mind unskilled in many thing's, And doiibtfnl where my highest duty lay. But finally when faith and love stood pledged To you, the sun wheni flaming all the Orient No' surer turns the moirning glory in Its greeting, than your coming did my face To thee. Your will has stood before me like a light That one does foillow trustingly. At times, perhaps, When kinidmess was a little strained with you, 1 may have seemed with saddened face as does A star behind a fleeting cloiud ; But then the star had never budged an inch In its ascension. Shall all this faith and constancy fall by The way like chilled and withered leaves? Winton — Too late this pleading comes. This home is like a house built on the sand Without foundation woirthy oi the name ; Go where yon will, the silver cord is loosened And the golden bowl is broken. Exit Winton. Augusta — Can it be that this is not a dream? Does destiny work woe like this? t)2 _ If Jealousy can wear his garb of green, And blast a home where dwelleth purity, Where can tlie true heart find degree oif rest? An outcast am I, grimy on the brink Of desolation for an awful crime Tliat never was committed. Mv child ! vShe sleeps ! God bless her little soiil, and when I'm gome May heaven grant that innocence shall feel No pang for actiou not its own. Farewell, dear one, my ruined life seeks peace Where all the sorrows of the world do Find a resting place. Exit. Act 2, Scene 8. A Street in Virginia City. Enter Happy Jack (singing). Happy Jacl' — O, Nancy Jinks, I'm mighty glad You are so sweet a critter ; vShe's got a beau for every toe, And not a soul can get her. Green grow the rushes, O ! Enter Winton (running up against H. J.). Winton — What the devil are you doing here? Happy Jack — And whiat the devil are you 63 Doing here — running" over a fellow like A bison bull left behind his herd? V/i7iton — Looking for a woman lost ! Happy Jaclc — Who lost her? Winto7i — I did, by mishap of my tongue and temper. Happy Jaclx — Then may you find her not, If she is strayed on that account. For any woman scOirmed by rankling wards And low down epithets, will kick the shins Of him who undertakes to rub the oil Of harmony into her marrow bones. Again,, and blight will set like toiadstooils damp And co'ld, where once the rosies grew. \yinto7i — Oh, hang yoiur moral gush To dry in Haides! Have you seen the one I seek? Square-footed give me what you know, or go. Happy Jacl' — Well, briefly stated, I Did see a form, like some lost soul in white, With something kin to raven's wing for hood. It flitted up toward the crown of sun peak, When with airy feet the summit pressied, It seemed to give an invoication thus : Then passed beyond, just as the moirning light Streamed from the sun as came its burning car From margin of the underworld. Winton — Where were vou at the time? 64 Happy Jack — Just rounding Devil's neck, With stage and six in hand. Winton — Saw ycii else of this afifair? Happy J ad' — A moment later I observed A grooking, crawling thing, in shape of man High om the mountain side, unsteady in Its gait, creeping this way, then in that, Then straight ahead, as if in search Of something lost. Mayhap pursuing stealthily the form In robes before outlined. Exit (singing). Green grow the rushes, O ! The sweetest hour I ever spent Was with the fair yourug lassies, O ! Winton — That fellow has surely seen The bird I'm after, but that other form What the Devil was it? I'll get assistaiiice for a search. Hello, Colonel Wasson. (Banginig on a door.) \Yasson (above) — Who's down there banging at the door? Winton — Dress, and come down. Colonel. I am in trouble. Wasson (opening the door) — Winton, you here. In the half-opened eye of the morning. 6s Looking like a ghost, with Charon, boiating On the river Styx, with freight of souls For Cerberus. Winton — My wife has run away. Wasson — Which way did she run? Winton — An apparitioii like a spirit lost Has just been seen upon the summit of Mount Davidson, and, clambering up Its side a crouching form as if of Bloodhound breed, seeming-ly pursuing it. Wasso7i — Why did she trek it thus Between two days? Wititon — Oh, well, yoti see, I went Home cross. The green-eyed monster Prompting me, I gave in words not gentle Vent to foul suspicion of a liaison With Primirose Berring, when she took Ofifence, and talked me back as any Womian will at seeming slight. At this my temper rufHed up like The setting quills of some old poircupine. And in my rage did bid her go to Where the woodbine twineth. At this she swooined away, when I did take my leave uniceremoin(ioush% And walked the town for full three hours. Then, like a cur returninig to its kennel, After kilhng sheep, I sneaked the streets 66 Most cautiously, and, reaching home, Just as the morning cock set up A clamor that the old oblivion of The night had fled. And fled also had fair Augusta. Wasson — Ye gods, What asses mortals are to stick Their noses in a pinch and whine because It hurts. How infinitely wise and good was God To give the devil fire in which to fry The fat of fools ! Like Ta;nitalus, they strive in vain for that Beyond their reach, and in the strife lose what They have; then wail because they have it not. If all the evil hap'nings in the world, That never happened anywhere, save in The gloomy garrets of disordered minds, Could pass unheeded by. Full half the ills of life would disappear, As mist before the rising sun. Oh heaveni help to make us over in A world less obdurate and splinted up With charity that can detect a glint Of beauty where there's much of it. Enter Mark Twain. Marie T. — Well, I am surprised to see Two worthies pillowed on a public street 67 At an hour so untimely. What's in the wind toi warrant this array? Wasson — Winton's lost his wife, And wants to g^arnishee the stars to aid In her recovery. Mark T. — I know her not ! Presume you that The trekinof ^anie is worth the burnino^ of This early candle. Wasson — The fairest Piute squaw On all these barren hills seems but As baboon, buckskin-breeched, to amg-elized Augusta,, whom we seek. Mark T. — If angelized, why wish her back Tb this abode oif diirt and devil broth? I never knew but one such creature in This place, where Clytemnestra seems to rule Supreme. Wasson — What angel mean you, Mark? Mark T. — The printer Myran, who, With Dan de Quille for pen and inkhorn can With ease, a coal pit galvanize, or swing A toad and make a seraph of it. Which way has Winton's dulcy flown? Wasso7i — It seems she's taken to The moimtains, like a faw^n pursued. Com^e on. We'll scale the breast of this Old mother of the peeping hills. Exit all. 68 Act 2, Scene 8. A Grotto at Base of Mountains. Enter Loreno (carrying a white form). Loreno — ^Ah, senora ; you is me one at Las. A hard olci tug, yet here We is. Just under blufY where yo Was kill yo self. Come in me Casa. where me lif. (Puts her in, gets in and rolls stone in doorway.) Enter Wasson, Mark Tivain and Winton. Wasson — Well, here we are at base Of Davidson, whereo^n we've rambled hours Searching for a treasure lost. Here seems the last of that old moccasin Traced to apex, then meandering down Again from brink of this high precipice, Where last we saw the slipper's imprint. The villain must be hereabouts with prize Secreted. Come and let us search for them. Here seems a cavern at the base of this Old bluff, walled in with streaks of shining quartz And gray-gowned adamant. (Rolling away stone.) Hello, you denizens of darkness ! Who's in there? (A voice within.) An hombre miras Lo que pacies. Go way or I kill you. Wasson — Well Winton, I think we 69 Have located your wife, yet there Seems tOi be a brief obstruction to Her rescue. Will you go down in the den And make examination oif the premises? Winton — ^What. and g^et loaded up With lead for my surprisinig pains? Let the devil take her for a mesismate Rather than make a mess of flesh and Bitter sauce for me to breakfast on. Vvasson — So' Mark, it seems the game is up Unless you volunteer recovery of the prize. This adventure will immortalize You niioire than all the pens and inkhoirns used In twenty years. Mark Twain — I beg of you, dear Colonel, not To rob yourself cf such an honor, My ambition runs in other lines. W'ith quill in hand and Dan Dequill for help We can with ease set up the whole of this Great territory, stretching every ear To greatest length of braying asses Utmost, when they hear of this wonder Double headlined in the Enterprise, Thus soaring- like the new-born sun, Or sailing on the wings of night To reach an eminence ol black or white That will adorn a simple tale. But when it comes to guns and saber cuts 70 My bones shake in my boots and all my hair Does bristle like the troubled porcupine. Noi, no, dear Wasson, 1 could never think Of robbing you of honor in a field Of action common to your trade. And if you dare the villain in that den And bring the woman out alive, The Enierprise shall flare and flame as does A signal fire on a mighty hill. And in the foreground shall appear your name, Niched high upon the glowing arch of fame. ^Yasson — Oh, good Lord, what stuff! Shut off your screaming calliope And give us all a rest. Is that you down there, Loreno? Loreno — You go, dis my casa ! Come no here — 'hombre die. Wasson — We want the wo'man, bring her out. Loreno — You can no haf her, she go jump Kill herself, I catch an of her so She mine. Wasson — Her husband's here with me And we'll blow off your head unless You give her up. Loreno — No, no ; he no kill a rat. He too mucha one bi^ coward. Wasson— \N\\\ vou let us talk with T^Irs. Winton? 71 Lor en — No, no. You no &ee her, she no talk. You vamoose or I shoot you ! Wasson (falling^ and rolling down into the cavern ; several shots are fired; Loreno severely woiunded, when Mrs. Winton is brought out of the grotto) — Here, now, I have the lady safe, so let Us travel to the town. Winton (addressing his wife) — It seems You've had a fearful tramp and bad Experience with a cunning scamp. Will you go home with me, Augusta? Augusta — No, I never can. It is no Longer home for me. There never can Be rest beneath its roof. The wildest wood Is as a paradise to such, a place. For surely is the name of home A jarring mockery where cold reproach Burns like a bitter frost the tender plant Of sympathy. The desert loses all its horrors to The wandering Arab, hoiused in canvas walls With those he loves, as share and share alike They take of good and ill. While in fair castles on embowered isles Of genial warmth, with wind's in which the late- ShoTn lambs delight tO' skip contentedly. Are often barren of the bliss of peace Where lovine hearts strike home in unison. The make-up of this checkered Hfe is so Uncertain, that the tear-stained dirge Of happiness often crowds on fleeting heels Of hymen's merry march. Sad-hearted memories of the past Haye grown a wilderness between us Sunless as the halls of Kserhadden. Destiny hath drawn his iron fingers Through my heart so deep and Cruelly, That lacerated as it is I seek No consolation but to be alone With my own misery. Give me clothes, my child and means to reach My father's home, and you shall never Wrinkle up your brow^ at me again ! Winto?2 — 'Tis well, perhaps, that yO'U have so decreed, Whatever else, in this we are agreed, And so make readv for the final start, Tliere's ill between us and no faith in heart. Exit all hut Winton. Winton — So, so. She's gone and I am left alone. Distempered through with vain conceits, I yet Have sense enough to know my folly in This tumble turn of pride and ruined hopes. The chances seem that she is wrong accused ■ And I to blame for that accusing. Coupled with the ills resulting, The gaw and selfishness of many lives 73 Show not their color skimmin.Q summer seas. But in the warp of murky weather flare Their wanton flasks. Much is the pity, but the truth should out Thoug-h galling like a truss in sultry heat ! What fantasies we weave of airy nothings And augur ills that never come to^ pass. The sotmdest thoug-ht in all philosophy Is to hold the scales in even balance — "Duty with the soul of charity," The gabble oi the world that nimbly takes Its seasoning from so many enmities. Does break more rotten ground in hell than all The other woes not in the train of this Great monster. A tender plant will wither at the touch Of frost, as dees the g-entle germ of love In keeping of a taunting fool. The greatest sorrow of each soul, perhaps, Is nurtured in the hollow wish to' live Its troiubled life again, that mistakes made And wrongs imposed might be effaced From act and memory, in better moods Made possible by sad experience. The consciousness of action ill-advised And sefishness that sorrow other lives Do weight the load that every mortal bears. Perhaps there is a respite, so decreed 74 Jn this, that death is one eternal void, In which the blamk of memoTy allows Forgetfulness to sleep in peace. I hope it may be so, For conscience is a heavy load to lug While conscious wrong- is CA^er manifest. If there be hell bevomd the confines of This life^ for torment of the lost and damned, The goad oi burning brimstone cannot add To agony of deep remorse which gnaws The soul that's pinioned down forever with The skeleton of its own dishonor. Exit. Act 2, Scene 9. A Street in Virginia City. Enter Happy Jack (singing.) The earth spreads out her ample lap To nurture fairest roses, While nature sets without a gap The hills and dales with posies. The trees are warming in the sun Their leaflets and their fingers, And May day has the garb of one Who blushes while she lingers. God has planted beauty here Wherever erows the bower, 75 And each should love the living year, With all its sun and shower. Hie ding ding, the cat and the king. The cow jumped over the moon, sir ; The little doggy burnt his tail, And you'll get whipped to-morrow. Life is sunlight to the soul That seeks another's pleasure. And with the good there is no dole In spreading heaven's treasure. If all could see the living light That flames in God's great arches, Soon would disappear the night And sweet would be their marches. We strive for things we cannot use. To state a miser's wooing ; And nobleness of heart abuse — The best of life undoing. Unmindful man of passing years. Unheedful of the ages ; The record angel blots with tears As turns old Time the pages. So cycles pass with man in state, To one great common dooming ; While nations dwell, that once were great, In one great common tombmg. 70 And all because the gleaner grows Not what in truth he's reaping, As pitiless the toiler sows In want, with children weeping. (Chorus.) Enter Berring. Berring — Hoild up your warble, Jack, I have a job for you. Happy JacJv — V»'ell, pay me in advance An' I'll be aisy with the crather. Berring— ]>io, not a red cent until The service is completed. Happy Jack — What is the service worth to me? Berring — If well perfcrmed, more than a year's staging. Happy Jark- — Pray unwind the thread of this Adventure. Berring — Well, you know that Wintcn's wife Hath peppered with the fool and skipped The town with dudgeon in her blazing eye And pent-up sorrow in her heart. Happy Jack — Well? Berring — Well, in confidence I will Admit I am in love with her and wish To follow, as hunter does a nimble deer. Happy Jock — Yes, yes : and so I thought. But such occurrences are common, sir — 77 Most common in this town, where scarce A shift can cross a public street, Or flutter in the wind, that does not Have at least a scoire oif Oglers Gin her track, with breath of Onions, panting for the chase. Berrmy — Fie on you, man ; Why moralize, when rich reward Stands tiptoe for a service small indeed? Happy Jack — Because my mother was a woman, Doubled with a sister pure as snow, With love so blind and dominating in Her nature that she fell an easy prey To blandishments of one less carmel Your single self. Berring — Waylay your jaws ! This surprising impudence doth clog The avenue of common decency And ribald heaven with a jibing tongue. Happy Jack — Console yourself, a better day will come. Berring — When ? Happy Jack — When enoiugh of ghouls most ravenous Inlaid with prying libertines, Shall pass the gates of purgatory, To' miake a holiday in hell. Berring — Be satisfied, thou saucy scofifer. This proposad for espionage hath not 78 The color of a lax or dark intent. But since the woman leaves the burly burg-, Without escort or friendly hand to help In need, what sin is there in shielding- her From harm^ and even keep a watch to meet Emergencies? ) Happy Jack — Oh, well ; proceed. I see it is the same old story of A Jack black in a lover's garb that does Protest a friendv^hip that is friendless when Unclou'ded lust can dictate terms. B erring — Bandy no more words. I simply wish To know if you will take the job? HappyJack — How much in nug-gets is it worth to me? Berring — A hundred ounces of the brightest gold The Comstock lode affords. Happy Jack — Well, manv saints Have fallen baud for less amount. And since I am no saint or moralist Beyond the measure of a common need, That hinges on respectability, I grant your case and take the burthen up, Conditioned that 1 shall mot carry this Espionage to degree that blurs the sense Of common decency. Berring — 'Tis well. I mean no barm. Would not a hair of hers unloosen from 79 Its braid, nor turn a trump that is not in The shuffled deck. Ilai^ny Jack — ^Then give your charge and I Shall bend submissive to its mandate. Berring — 'Tis this — With circumspection travel to the coast, And when you reach the Occidental City whalf with shanties built about The tide and scrambling up the grade and out Among the hills, that fix their foothold in The mother sea, turn, and looking eastward, Where you will behold a winding Silver hoirn that creeps along between The sylvan woods, as yet but little known To canoe or her sister argosies, Within a slip upon the city's front A paddle steamer, called the Clinton, sits And breathes upon the changing tide. Board this vessel, she will shoirtly cross The sapphire stretch oif placid bay And enter in the shining hoirn. When its meande rings m,argin on a league There will appear to right a narrow wharf That sways oii shaky underpinning. Landing here, tramp down the heaved up Highway half a mile, with ample rush And salt grass green on either hand. Then bearing eastvv^ard through the margin of 8o The oak for several rods, you wiil observe A gothic, gabled home, vine-clad and banked About with battle roses. This is Augusta's childhood home, Where she will surely be before you reach The place. Seek service there. The master dignified you'll find, with stretch Of strut that lifts and lowers all his form At every step. He hath perceptions like a sharp-billed hawk That broods above a chicken yard. Be wary of him, keep your wits in play. And lose no trick that sleight of hand can hold. Stint no job of work assigned And make yo^ur service indispensable. Cuddle with the cook, anticipate Her every wish and praise the sops she gives You for a dinner. Compliments are cheap, but dallied in A woman's ear vvill yield more juicy fruit Than softer words or more pretentious speech. Make your ear a grand receiver For wireless telegraphy, But never anxious seem in anv way To learn the inmost of her little soul. Be, in fact, her confident, for she Is jewel of the household when you wish To dig about to find its harbored secrets. 8i Thus ensconced, you can with ease Find out each move Augusta makes And send, clandestinely, the gist of all Your finding out. Exit B erring. Happy Jack — What fools we mortals are To pester out our lives about the wives Of other men and coax a gunshot in The ribs before we get a nip or sprig Of smilax from her lips. But then it's all the same to mie. I was Not born to rule the milky way. And so I'll do as bid and get my pay, And leave Fritz FJerring in a shay That line the road to deviltry. Eant (singing.) Sally Dooley ran away To catch an ancient lover , Her breath was like the new-miown bay Or blossoms on the clover. Act 3, Scene i. Room in the Hotel, Carson City. Enter Helen Jessup. Helen — And this hotel is near the prison In which my lover lingers in coinfinement For a crime not his ! No ! He is so gently tender in 82 His nature that a bug could face him in A towpath with security, and singing, Praise its maker for a footfall that Has never harmed a living thing. A woman may be weak, indeed, but then It is her purity in tears that makes A fortress, where all manly hiomor stands Like adamant in her defense. It seems Divinity hat willed it, that On all occasions where affliction claims Support, the burly captain in his straps. And strutting lord of high degree, wrapped In rattling armor, pale with quaking fear Where woman dares tO' go for thosie sihe loves. I have no hope but in my troth to him. So here I am to stay, come good or ill. And if I fail the rescue, here my bones Shall bleach, and if my spirit is allowed The latitude, its wail shall start the hair To bristles on the head of every one That did abet this foul injustice. Enter Clerh. Clerk — Miss Jessup, this is Mrs. Winton from Virginia City, seeking Lodgings for the night, and not A bed to spare save extra one this Room afifords, so beg consent that she And child may lodge with you. 83 Helen Jessup — Most williiig-ly, with due Appreciation for this compHment. Exit Clerk. Unhoiod, good lady, doff ycur heavy cloak, You must be weary with the journey. And now, my little dear, let me undo Your wraps. How sweet and beautiful yoiu are, A mother's treasure amid a father's joy. Memory indulges me that I , Have heard your name before. Can this be Augusta Winton oif Virginia City? Augusta — The same, and this, I think, Must be Miss Jesisup, sister of brave Jerry and betrothed of William SIdden? Helen — It is, but how your words Do take my breath. A stranger and a friend Revealed most opportune. Will Sid den wrote me how A gfreaiser named Lorenoi sought to kiss You at a ball while dancing with my brother, Who in hiis wrath did fioor the saucy Fellow for his impudence. Augusta — Y'es, 'tis even so, and ever since I've taken interest in yoiur brother's case. And like some horror a suspicion haunts Me that the blow he struck Loire no for 84 Insult he offered had no Utile part In that untimely taking off. Helen — Then have you doubt who killed my brother? Was it William Sidden? Augusta — Believe that Sidden killed brave Jerry? Wherefore should I? Surely there is much Of evil in the world, but where ct when Was mortel in his senses ever known To' kill his friend without a cause? 'Tis true, it hath been done in drunken brawl^ But Sidden never touched the scoirpion That stings to deaith its boosy confidant And ruims half the race and waters half The woirid with tears. Helen — Sweet heaven, bend this way Thy glo>wing stars as stepping-stones to reach Nirvana's chambers of the blest, where now My mother's spirit beckons mie. Forever will I love and bless yoiir life, Augusta, for these noble words that melt A night of sorrow intO' sunbeams. I knew it all before, as does a trusting Mariner, cast oft by heavy seas ; In boat with broiken ribs and tattered sail — There is to leawiard peaceful anchorage If but the straining ship can hold her sides Together throug'h the blinding storm. 85 Augusta — T can conceive the joy yC'U teel To hear of this assuritv, but why So fair from home and friends? Helen — The proniptrmgs of my heart For WilHam Sidden's Hfe and hberty. , Did call me to this place and here I am To stay, and die if need be in the fight Augusta — Have yoii seen him since Arrivmg here? Helen — Yes, to-dav 1 managed entrance in the prison, Saw him wo-rking in his stripes and had A talk of home, of loved ones there And of my faith, as steady as a star, Without its aberration. At this the dreary sadness O'f his face Went out as does a mist that thwarts the sun. Perhaps you've seen the like, I never did Before, save when my father died. The fell destroyer gnawing all His vitals out, ran through his fevered blood Like fiery serpents in a race with life. But when. On reaching portal of another woirld, He said, in words scarce audible, ''My child, Who sings? I hear a strain unearthly in Its sweetness and I feel constrained to go. Come bear me company." Then pressing 86 Tenderly my hand, the wrinkled Sorrows left his face, and even I, Though mortal as I am,, did get a glimpse Of paradise. At this fuil-taith avowal Sidden took Me in his arms, with aspen tremble, Implanting kisses on my cheek like one With burthened heart who finds a jewel Counted lo;st. The burly guard, not liking this display, Did snatch at me and sought a like embrace. God seems to have ordained it thus Thait manly men can not be cowed by fear. So in a flash Will's face grew rigid as An iron shield and then his Spartan fist Went smash into that brutal chop. The slump, prone on his back, did yell For help, when others came to his relief, And in unmanly ways dragged Will to door Of a new dungeon, half finished at the top, Where in the damp, cold place my love was thrust, Chained as a beast to flagstone ^n the floor To live on bread and water for a week. Augusta — And w^U you try to see his face again? Helen — Try? I'm here to stay ! And all the chains 2nd rcpes the town affords Cannot enthrall me strong enough to lag My will tO' try ; 87 But, dear Augusta, pardon this harangue It's run at loose ends loog enough to make Yoiu think me something ol a dawdle — Tell me of yourself and future hope Augusta — My past seems black with disappointment And all my future like a star gone down. Helen — Your husband and your home, Is there no comfort in the thoug'ht? Augusta — I have no husband, neither home, And all the comfort left me is this child And nursing my own misery. Helen — How so? Augusta — The green and yellow jaundice of A jealous mind hath bound a potion to My bleeding heart, that sadly weakens its Impulses as I drag my load along And as a weary pilgrim, seemingly, I climb the frozen path to summit of The Everest to look beyond On desolation. And yet, I seek, as respite oiu the way, The portals of my father's home to balm The woimds I have received from one who pledged His faith to me forever moire. Helen — Hope always, dear Augusta ; Each sun makes to the world another day And as the night takes dismal refuge at 88 His coming down the dingy aisle of Time Wrap up the scroll of sorroAv past and let Sweet Lethe take all its memories. Exit Helen. Augusta — A ray of light so pure and sweet That makes the deepest darkness visible ; The ruin of my life seems less a ruin in Her company, as when the tallest pines Are tipped with golden beams, relieves, in part. The blackness of the shadowed vale below ; O, destiny ! suage down this irony Of fate and glint my hopes of life again. Exit. Act 3, Scene 2. Same. Enter Helen. Helen— Well That splendid w^oman has departed for The peace of childhood's home, And may she find a solace there Sweet as the lyrics of old Lesbos, But now I'll tO' my task of rescue Circumspect and cautiously, And so, discretion, backed by flinty nerves, Must ever keep me dogged company ; I did observ^e his cell had but loose boards Across its level top for cover — 89 Near the prison lay a ladder Light and long, This I can secure and while the g^uard Tramps round the measured beat, will lean against His cell, this handy rounder, Taking all the chances oif discovery, I'll make a rush tC' reach its shaky roof. Here's my chisel and a hammer for The cutting oi the cuf¥s that manicle His arm and foto.t to length of clanking chain. This little jaunt may haza;rd much, But, then, success without a hazard, Surely shomld be salted down to keep The skippers out of it. The jeer and grin may bandy my attempt And modesty fiare out her jeweled hand. But where devotion calls for action in Defense of those we love unbidden will Sets pride and sickly sentiment aside, As when, a storm breaks up the placid face And hum-drum murmur oi the sea. l^xit. Act 3, Scene 3. Before the Prison. Enter Helen. Helen — Here's the ladder, opportune Now for the scale 90 (Puts ladder against the prisoni wall ; scales ; guard ap- proaches ; moves boards^ raises, lowers ladder inside, and descends.) Sidden (talking in his sleep) — So, inhuman jailer, you declare The game is up with me, and that I shall Not see her face again ! My love, my life ! Is there no refuge from This thrall dom worse than death? Could I but see that face again and soothe The agony of her ruined life, Perhaps she would be comforted. i^e/en— Dearest Will, Your w^sh is gratified herein truth. 1 kneel before you. May we never part Again. Seddon — What is this? Hallucinatiom ! Am I going mad? Helen — Not a bit of it, my dear. I'm here as real as the stones you rest Upon, and come to set 3'OU free. Plere's my chisel, hammer and a file. Hold out your hand ,and I will cut the chain. And set your limbs at liberty. Seddon — By what spell, our urging potency, Induced your coming here? Helen — No spell but that of love ; 91 No potency but love and will to dare. But, then, there is no time for sentiment. Hold down the chain upon this irom bolt, And with this chisel and my hiammer I Will sever it. (Strikes with the hammer, making much noise.) Seddon — Hold, my dear! This noise will start the guards, and poimce They wiH upon you like a terrier A kitten moist defenseless. If loosed, I coiuld not go^ with you, because A charge of breakinig jail would lodge against Us both. Besides, we could not possibly Escape the country undetected. Innocence cannot afford to break A manacle. It is the guilty that Attempts escape. Helen — Ah, truly so! I see my folly in this rash attempt. And trust you will forgive it. Seddon — Forgive is not the word. But praise the longest day 1 live for nerve That faced the undertaking. Now get thee hence, my noble o^ne, and if You reach the outer world in safety, Devoted memory will place you on A pedestal enthroned forever as 92 A lover's talisman. The clock strikes three, and now The eyelids of the morning lift apace ; So let the balance of the waning night Full hood your face and eyes, which ever light The darkness of my present life. Exit Helen. Act 3, Scene 4. A Room in the Hotel. Filter Helen. Helen — In tliat bciit 1 set my picket line So near the camping enemy That cautiom urged retreat. But still my midnight ra'd upoai this den Was not a dismial failure, after all. I saw my cope, and he admired my Resolve and pertinacity. That is enough of glcry fcr a month. And on it will I make an epic. Fo-r an everlasting memory. Where stand I now, and what the drift Of other work in that direction? Here's the Carsoin Appeal. Perhaps it has A place for me. Yes, good fortune brings it in The nick of time. (Reads :) Wanted — A first-class co'ok, competent 93 To take charge of the kitchen at the Warm Springs prison. Apply to Abrani Curry, on the grounds. This will bring me near the one I love, As does the intinct af a cooing dove To mate that's caged moist cruelly. It gives, beside, an opportunity To show my hiandiwork. My mother — bless her loving soiul ! — Did drill me in the art of keeping ho'Use For many years. Dishes did we conjure up that had No mame in decalogue of epicures, And whet anew the keenest appetite. Yes, I'll try the place! In fact, I must do somiethimg, for my purse Is but the shadow of a substance go'nie, And scarce will pay my bill to date. But then mishap hath given me acquaintance there, Perhaps in measure quite embarrassing. Contempt of angled eyes wo'uld looik so high With stretch of neck that doors woiuld lose their caps In passing that array of squinting wooder. So dress I will, and paint and fix to make A Bridget of myself. But this great mass of golden hair is in The way of biddy making. O ! thou great glory of my childhood. 94 And pride of larger womanhood ! I must then shear my ample treasure. Necessity is law unto herself, And sentimental qualms burn down to- dross, When destiny forefronts with rigid play. The fates decree it, so here goes (cuts off her hair). How stale and lank the little tokens of A woman's love appear, when duty calls Foa* action throug-h a bugle in her soul ! There ! I think that make-believe will do. My mother would disown, me in this garb ; And rouge legitimate would blush to see The dopes upon my face. Exit. Act 3, Scene 5. Prison Office. Enter Helen. Helen — Is Misthur Curry in? Curry — That's my name. What can I do for you? Helen — Will, if you plaze, I come to say about the place advertised in the papers. Curry — Do you mean the notice for a cook? Helen — Sure, and that's for what I come. Curry — Do you seek the place for yourself? Helen — If it is agrayable, sur. Curry — Do you think you can fill it? Helen — I do indiade, sur. 95 Curry — Were you ever in a state prison? Helen — An' do you take me for a thiafe, Misther Curry? Curry — I do not mean thait, but hiave you had any experienee in prison life? Helen — Faith, an' how cud I have any expariamce in prison Hfe unhss I be a thiafe, a house-breaker or a big- amist? Curry — ^That's easy. I've been ini prisotii many moinths, yet never committed a crime. Helen — An angel, then, surely you are, Misther Curry, for the good book says there was niver a mother's son without sini. Curry — Oh, well, I can assure you I am not a saint, but never have been convicted'of wromigdioinig. Helen — That is quite commoni, sur; for the law's per- version makes many a. thafe a church deacon whot has a face for Sunday an' one foir other days. Curry — Then you think the laws are bad? Helen — Never a bit, but the divil sames to preside over the jury box and judge so often thart these poor fellas sometimes convict the wrong man, and let the thafe with a stovepipe go fray. Curry — ^The lawyers are largely to blame for such mis- carriage of justice. Helen — Yis, but thin, sur, they are only human, an', like the big prachers, are alius called where the largest 96 fays and salaries are obtainable. The trouble is we all are made of d^fl'erent strakes of mud, intermingled with good and ill is such a way that charity should fill each soul with sympathy and mete out punishment to those who err with justice tempered largely with the tinder hand of mercy. Curry — Well, we have not time to build new castles for the temple of philosophy. Let evolution dio its work, and we our little part of it. My wish is knowledge of your cookery. Helen — My tongue is not a braggart bast to^ prate of what I know. I only wish you give me trial, sur, and if I canniot cook the round from little herring up to steaks of nine-horned elk, you may declare me cheat, unworthy of yo'ur further care. Curry — What is your name? Helen — Betty Maloney, sure. My grandmither was second cousin to the thirty-third gineration of Saint Patrick's footman. Currv — Well, Miss Maloiney, I am disposed to try you, and if found as pert in work as tongue I think our en- gagement wili be endurable. Come this way, and view the color of your opportunity. Exit. 97 Act 3, Scene 6. Kitchen of Prison. Enter Curry and Betty. Curry — Sing, this is Betty Maloina. She chief cook of the kitchen. Do whatever she tell you without question. This is Lena, Miss Maloney; the helper. I hope you will agree, amd shall expect the meals on time. Exit Curry. Betty (inspecting the place) — Dirt, dirt, distressingly, and unadulterated with a single spot of common decency. What a task and what distemper had I in seeking it. But the die is cast, and die I will or do' the job in measure credible. I'll burnish up these dingy wallis with scrub- bing brush, skins, flower cuts and evergreens, arranged in such a way as to make the place inhabitable. Sing, will you bring in some wood. Lena, these are awful dirty rags. Will you wash them, please. Sing (aside to Lena) — Me no like wolm, She too muchy dalm smart — run this Way, thien runny this way. Me too muchy No sabby Ilishman. Lena, so, so. She no good, I no mine Her. She no like one Spanish senorita. Enter Mr. Mooney (the steward, singing.) Dear Erin, thy lasses are charming As blithely they rake in the hay ; 98 Laughing while aiding the farming, And blushinig like roses of May. Sweet Brin, the fairest and greenest, A gem on the lap of the sea, With wit o-f thv people the keenest, O Erin, I sing one tO' thee. Enter Sing (with a load of wood.) Mooney — Oh, oh ! yon blasted hathen. You've ruined me toes ! Take that, an' that ! (Striking Sing with a whip) And you that ! (Striking Lena' for laughing.) Enter Betty. Betty — Bar your whip, Mr. Mooney, The Chinaman is not to blame. 'Twas your swagger that knoicked the Wood on yer toes. Mooney— -To blazes wid yer, woman ! Do yer mane to stand betwane me duty And meself? Betty — An' is it yer duty to bate people? Mooney— Y is, when they nade it. And thin a hathen Chinese is not people, For he has no soul and has a bast for a Mither, falls down to a wooden god An' ates rats for a livin'. 99 Betiij — "Tis not for the like of yez to Judge oi papels souls, an' a hathen is One that acts hatheniish, and a hathen Without brains could tell the hathen In this rumpus. Mooney — Betty Maloney, an' does yez Take the part of a hathen fernist one (^f yer own race and color? Betty — 1 take the pairt oi right, as I See it, whether it be in favor of a Hathen Chinese or a hathen Irishman. Mooney — Betty Maloney, yer tongue Is sharper than an adder's tooth, An' its pison makes me green in Half a minute, so I'll bid the top of The morning to yez. Exit Mooney. Sing — You belly good wolm, Heap sabby. Him steward belly bad Man. Chinaman too muchy dalm Phule. No sabbv his mudder. You telle what do. Me wolkey alle Same as my bludder. Enter Dr. Duff. Dr. Duff — Here, Betty, I want some Warm water and rags. This boy has A broken arm, by the premature explosion Of a quarry blast, and the fracture LcfC. lOO I; SO bad that the member will Have to be amputated. Betty — With careful setting and nursing: Don't you think it might be saved, docther? Doctor — Perhaps, but I have neither Time ncr patience to fool away half a day In this caise. Moreover, there is no one Here to give him the care and nursing Necessary. Betty — Please, docther, place the child In condition for nursing and I will Do the rest. Doctor — You know nothing of nursing Mangled arms. Moreover, your place Is in the kitchen to grub stake this Inistitution. Betty — Sure, an' I know that, docther. But thin I have a little strake of humanity Left wid me yet. The lad's sintence Is for small oflfense, an' soon he'll be Free again. Then what can he do wid One hand for a livin'? Doctor — Pshaw, woman ! You are altogether ToO' tender hearted for a place like this. When I was surgeon in the war with Mexico I used to slash off arms and Legs with no more concern for the result lOI Than you have in depriving a spring Pullet of her bipeds. (Prepares for the cutting.) Bethj — Docther, have you a boy? Doctor- — Ye.s, about the age of this one. But whait is that of your concern? Betty — If this lad was yours, wo'uld You cut ofi his arm? Doctor — No, certainlv not, until every Other remedy had proved inefifectual. But this little renegade should not Be menitioned in the same breath with My boy. He is a fine, mainly fellow. In every way worthy of his father, while This one is a felon, consequemtly should Receive but little con si die rat ion, foir his Life is hardly worth preserving. Betty — Docther, how dees yomr boy's head Compare with this o^ne? Doctor — In every way superior. Round, Full, with every organ properly developed, While this fellow h.as moire the head of An ape than a human. See its breadth Between the ears, denoting large acquisitiveness Conjoined with destructiveness, while His flat pate, low, receding forehead and Frontal narrowness indicate small intellect, With almost total absence of reverence I02 And moral perception. Betty — Docther, is the bov to blame For his mental and physical make-up? Doctor — Well, I can't say he is. The origin of some of his mental Deficiencies probably run back through The blood oi generations, but then the Guiding hands and influence of home Should check and sway obedience In a youth like this. Betty — But then, perhaps, he had no Home in truth nor mother's care to check The criminal predomni)ate and guide him From the evil way. Doctor — God help him, then, or drift He must to deeper depths of sin. Betty — The Lord helps none that cannot Help themselves, so when a crater is warped And dwarfed by circumstances out of its Control, the only hope of betterment Must come from those who were from Circumstances better born and raised. Methinks Divinity did so intend, And all the prates of strutting consequence Will not relieve them from this duty In the sight of God. Doctor — You talk severely, woman, of T03 People better than yourself ! Curb Your flying tongue and learn submissively That place and wealth control all Kingdoms of the world, make respectability And mentor society without a skip in Human destiny. Betty — I know that many people hug This shekel god, as does the Devil Fondle with his ugly tail. But Christ taught otherwise, and broke His bread amog the lowly, where now Are foimd his truest followers, who give Of their mite to charity with loving hearts. Which in the sight of God outweigh great Gifts bestowed with ostentation. The treasures of this world are surely Found in little helps, that lift a brother From the ruts of his discouragement. And with a tender word po'int upward For a greater consolation. This bov does seem misfortune's child. And shall we help him to a greater One by cutting of¥ his arm? Does duty to humanity point that Way? If your own boy had no other Way of making a living but by his Hands, would you sever them with Heartless unconcern? TG4 Dsdor — Your words arc irormv cx)d, Svcctened with tbe depths of kindiT Sentmieat ; tfaer i^ace the gloiriiig coals Among mj memories,, jet bold the Bahn in Gilead to the wonnded and Bid me dbaost between the stream of Urins: water and the barrang lake where Conscience hath acqnittancs:. I^tifnl are the {Mtiless;soI shall Foflow joor sa^:gestion and sare The bar's arm. Brfff— ^laj the l^esang of Saint Patrick Fan npon yoa^ docther^ for this resc: t Hoe's the wadio- and the rags. Set And I win do the rest. E^ Dodm- amd B09. EmUr Wmrdem Cwrry. Cuny — BettT, we have another b^d Case that needs toot imroe&te Attention. BfUgr — An' iriiat b it now. Mister Carry? CMrry— It is ofa jom^ coorict. Very k]«r with t3pplioid Sever, and II not carefidlj mirMd can not live Three days. BMf — ^Faith^ an' Fm alwavs ready'' 105 To help a poor crater. Where will I find Him, Mister Curry? Curry — In the new stone cell to The right, on the way to the quarry, Not vet roofed in. Betty (in great agitation) — My God. is it He? Ctzrr?/— He? Who? \\'hat's the matter, Woman, are you ill? Betty (sitting d'ow^n) — Yes. Give m< some Water, Lena. Excuse me for this weakness, Misther Curr\\ for sure me heart is so Tinder for the distressed that I Fale all gone like whin I hear Of a new case. Where's the kav to the cell, Misther Curry? Curry — Here it is — but remember I will hold you responsible should The prisoner escape while the key Is in your possession. Betty — An' do you think a man Is trying to run away with a low faver? Curry — But he may get better. Betty — In the name of all the saints May it be so. Exit Citrrif. io6 Yes, it is Will Sidden, my own, Dyinig in that cold, damp cell where I visited him that black, dismal night Four weeks since. O cruel fortune, hide me from Myself and dull the pangs of memory Capped with this last great sorrow. When once the poise of simple life Is loose and drifts the tide of Fortune toward the Stygian Sea, how vain Appears the struggle with environments That hedge and blacken all the Horizon oif hope. But those who love can never lag in Duty to the living, though grief takes Off the edge of every pleasure. So melancholy shall not bind me To his dismal car, for conscious duty Well performed will strengthen ever faithful Heart until the stars gO' down. And when they fail there surely is Reward for noble work beyooiid their setting. Come, Lena; let us seek that adamantine Cell, where life does flicker as a lamp Untrimmed and death is hanging up His sable curtain. Exit Betty and Lena. 107 Enter Ctirri/. Curry — Sin^, where's the cook? Sing — Gone to see one plissner, \'elly sick. Curry — Everything very nice now, Sing? Sing — Heap sabbe, velly good Vv^olum, aJle s me as one angel. See, see, see. (Sing shows Curry around.) Curry — Does she scold you? Sing — Scole me? Alle same as one Kitten. She say Sin ;. wille you do' This? Den she looke me, an' her eye Make one litning go alle way down to My toe. I no sabbe. She say, Sing, You go to heb^en. I climb rite up To the top of house. She say, Sing, You go to de debble. I go hang myself. Me dunno. Me no sabbe wolum. She Talk sweet an' smile. Me my bres' go thump- ta-thump alle same as one fool Melican Man. Me dunno. Me no sabbe. She no Ilish wolum — hep smart Vely good. Me dunno. Enter Betty and Lena. Curry — Well, Betty, how's the sick Man? io8 Betty — Bad indade, siir, an' will Surely die, the docther savs, unless Removed from the din in which He is confined. Have yiou not a better place to Give him, Misther Curry, plase? Curry — I think of nothing for improvement. Betty — Then may the good Lord help His soul, for he's surelv lost. Curry — Oh, yes ; I have it. Pat Mooney's roo^m is vacant since His discharge. The one with the Dormer w^indow, second story, adjoining The chapel facing the court. You may have the patient taken up There. Betty — May yon live a thousand Years for this kind favor, Misther Curry ; be as happy as the saints And have a friend for everv leaf That rustles in the wind. Come, Lena. Exit Betty and Lena. Curry — By my soul, this woman is a Strange creature. In the garb of ignorance And drudgery, yet withal the kindest Heart I ever knew. log How near is all humanity together — When the sordid selfishness, begotten By the pride of place or circumstance Is torn asunder through misfortune. Assuredly there is divinity in man. But those who worship place, or Mammon As a god, perhaps engendered by their Antecedents or the fear O'f want. Have by degrees wound about themselves A robe of selfishmess so dense That penetration is impoissible Short of great calamity. While a simple child of nature Like this girl, un warped by hollow mockeries Of pride, nor poisoned by the fan^s Of ostentation^ carries heaven in her Bosom daily, and as the sun that Has no partialitv, beamis on the utmost Of the world benignantly. When will we learn humility and measure The value of each soul by the good That from it emanates? Exit. Act 3, Scene 7. Garden and Prison Grounds. Enter Betty, Lena and Br. Duff. Doctor — A glorious morning. Miss Maloney, The sun hath put a golden robe on all no The trees and every flower opens out Its heart in adoration of the One Who g-ave them life and stamina of kind And flushed their many colors with a brush Divinely charged. Betty — Beautiful conception, yet my sense Is blind, while anxious care emcompass me With wraps the deepest sable. How seems the prisc, you sawing boards again? Such harmonv wUl set the street astir With grinning teeth, and stop the mellow kty Of paddle ft-ogs to hear a broths sing. 125 When wits are out a fellow soon may lose A jaw with hollow stuff like that. You surely come on other business here. What have you learned of fair Augusta, And her future plans? Happy Jacl' — ^fy work has been propitious, for I caught the housemaid on the hip with mock Of dainty compliment, and making of Myself her shadow, when she wished Unstinted service, so to such extent Did I get in her simple graces that The very knot-holes in the Judge's house Have given up their secrets freely as A blabber in the market-place. Berring — Well, let the jingo go. Give me the facts. Happy Jack — Augusta, gloomy, silent as the halls Of ruined castle, moves about as does A phantom nursing its own misery. Thus weeks have passed with her like train Of tramping mourners with a bier ! But yesterday there came a change, As when the toiling sea does long contrive To keep an equipoise, a storm brews on Its face, and all its depths do tremble on The brink of desolation. Berring — Cut off the wooly length of this Fantastic tale, and let me have the pith 126 And marrow of your mciiLhing. Happy Jack — The pith of it is this : The Judge, like some great walking-beam, Unused to let or hindrance, got down To business in Augusta's case. With look and mien, foster brother to A thunderbolt, goared down into her heart To find the cause why she had lingered there. So long unmindful ol her marriage vow. When told the reason, and the ruin wrought Within her home by green-eyed jealousy, And hence the flight to seek her mother's arms- The miaster with a bluster like the wind When cornered in a wheezing calliope, Bid his daughter pack her scanty srip And be prepared to board the ferry in The morning, for the sapphire city. Thence to Sacramento, on the way To home in bleak Nevada. B erring— Where stop they in this haste? Happy Jack — It is not eked with certainty. Yet dignitv and love of trapping show Swell dinner, Dane and daughter at the Lick. But be thou wary, Herring, people talk. And calumnv doth scent you in the breeze. Berring — Ah, people talk, I know it well, And hell doth blaze with its efifrontery. 127 The tongue of slander murks the work of God And gives an appetite for garbage rotten ; For envv is a monster bred so foul And nurtured in the lap oif littleness, That innuendo is the end it feeds upon, And washes virtue with its slimy brush. Bathed in a cup of gall. Its serpent fang strikes in the sweetest flesh And drips its rankness covertly upon The heart of purity, that with its help The venom of the damned may poison all The beauty of the woirld. Happy Jack — Aye, sir ; You strike home with yoiur burning words And coin a medal worthy of the ghouls You neck it om ! Exit Happy Jack (singing) : All is well that's ending well, And virtue has its innings ; Tlie Devil has a world to sell, Obtained by small beginnings. Berring — However compromising this afifair May seem, I have no thought of ill ; It surelv is commendable to chooise A noble woman as a friend, else what Is friendship but a mockery? To see a creature wronged that more deserves 128 A favor, does in compassion worry me. Not an inch beyotnd decorum have I gone ; and since suspicion's foulest breath Hath caused her casting off, shall I stand here Like a mummy petrified with fear And see the life crushed out oi her? No, not if all the devils in the land Shall back at me. At least I'll see her ere she goes, and give A word of council in this trying hour. Perhaps I can suggest solution that Will turn the tables in this game of chance. Exit Act 4, Scene 3. Hotel Parlor. Entei- Judge Dane and Augusta. Judge Dane — Here, Augusta, is your Ticket. The boat leaves Washington^street wharf For Sacramento at four o'clock. A hack will be at the hotel door at Three-thirty to take you and baggage Down. Now, all things having been arranged For your departure, and since the last Boat crossing the bay leaves at three O'clock, giving me only half an hour To' reach it, I must now bid you 129 Good-b}e. May Gcd bless oHid restore yen To your home end husband. Exii Judge Dane. Augusta — In the desolatioin of this hour Do I dream ,or has reality Burnt out the hope oi happiness to come? An cutcast and a ruined wife without A fault of mine. 'Tis true that little miolehills of the mind Oft grow tO' mounitains. when the balance oi A faith is lost through jealousy or warp Unnatural by process least Expected, and realization comes of such Calamities, we then review the past And see wherein there was a scanty chance Of betterment if taken on the slips. But now it is too late to remedy The past or ^^^eep for that which might have been. So' I will smother breathings of this sort And take resignedly the tenor of My seeming destiny, and always hope The favor of stern Atropos. Enter Berring. Herring — I beg indulgence for This rude intrusion om your privacy, But hearing of your soon departure for Nevada, and wishing- for a word before T30 You go, i venture thus presumptuousi}'. Auijusta — This bash cf ycurs surprises me Amazingly, and breaks decorum in The teeth ot time. Berring — 1 do concede the manner of My coming is a lag in etiquette, But ill can hardly have lodgment where 111 is least intended. Friend should surely counsel with a friend, When cloiuds obscure the dusky horizon And agony of soul seeks solace in A friendly word. Augusta — Your speech is surely sensible, And since I stand upo'U the dangerous Border O'f uncertainty, with pits On every hand that bode me sorrow, I Can hardly wish your presence goine, Though primped propriety hardly sianotiions it- What hiave yo»u of advice to offer me ? Berring — I thank y°^*. ...- .,0-' *:. V •e^o< »*, <»•„ <* iP-n '^^.^ '• .^''^^