^1^ "'^35^*'' ^ OLDEN TYRANT ^ C0mje%-^rama^ IN FIVE ACTS. BY y< CHARLKS STOW. ^^ 16 1888 v^ ^ Entered according to Act of Congres>, in the year 1887, by Charles Stow, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. I'- J»5vSw?P»F^*^^i3j A GOLDEN TYRANT. .A. o o :iv^ E ID ^-iD PI -A. im: A., IN FIVE ACTS CHARLKS STOVv^. HARDY STEELE, A millionaire M. C . JONATHAN MOKELAND , An uncommonly plain farmer FRANK A sns|)icious mucli-songlit after HUGO PL.\NTAGANET LA FAYETTE DE TILLE, M. D. The last in the box CALEB SNIGGEKWELL A model clerk " ZEKE " The Elk Creek Terror BOZARKIS BOLIVAR BALL A rural philosopher SNIDE WALKER A curb stone broker WOOLLY SOUTHDOWN One of the shorn SHERIFF SHORTWORK. A successor to G. C , HI. MIXER A barteuder CLICK A Battery Boy ROBINSON 1 JONES I !-.... Four of a kind SMITH , I BROWN J MAlBEL A teacher, with something to learn MOLLIE An all-around relative EUGENIE HORTENSE VICTORIA TERRA COTTA DE PILLE, One of the gilded kind AND THE NEIGHBORS All homespun A GOLDEN TYRANT. ACT I SCENE FIRST.— The Lawn in Fkont of Fakmek Moreland's Hoose. {Elder Hakdy Steele ut publicly and politically, and I'm very sorrj' to say it, you ve broke faith with me, Mr. Steele, and what's more, I don't like the way you've secured the nomination. There's gi-ave stories afloat of the corrupt use of money, and a pile of it, too. It's nn^ rule never to take chances on gettin' cheated twice. Steele.— What do you mean, sir, 1)3^ sncli charges as these? Moreland. — Well, if you will force me to speak light out in meetin', I mean just tbis, Mr. Steele ; that your record in Congress don't square with either the platform, y -ur pledges, or my views. Instead of curbin' monopolies, you have nursed them ; instead of reducin' the siirplus, by doin' away with some of the indirect war taxes, you insist on pilin' hundreds of millions of gallin' and ruinous burdens on the achin' and well nigh broken backs of us farmers. Them's briefly my sentiments, and I shall stand by them. Snig.— But, my dear Mr. Moreland, consider the interests of the party. Moreland.- I consider the interests of the country, and if those of the party don't scpiare with them, so much the worse for the party. Snig. - liut, ujy dear Mr. Moreland, the idea of you, of all men, playing sore- head and turning bolter is simply incredible. I must be suffering from politi- cal nightmare. I won't believe it. Moreland.- You, and the like of you, may believe and bet on this, too, Caleb Sniggerwell, that the older I grow and the more I see, the more independent I am inclined to be. I am beginnin' to find out, after votin' the straight ticket for over fifty years, that parties don't make men, but men parties, and that the creator has about as many natural and reserved rights as the creature. Mighty f^;w fools learn from experience, but I've learned that you can't satisfactorily celebrate Jackson's victory at New Orleans on castor oil, by merely lablin' the bottle "OKI Bourbon." Callin' a jug's tail an ear don't make him hear any better, Mr. Sniggerwell. 3 Steele. — So, then, Moreland, yon mean that it shall be war between its. If it is to be, I swear it sball be war to the knife, and the knife to the hilt; and when my turn comes, as come it surely will, you will find that I know how to deal with false friends and political hypocrites and traitors. Moreland. — Go slow, Mr. Steele. I want peace and good-fellowship, but I neither lie nor betray, and the man that charges me with doin' it has got to prove himself a better one than I am. So far as threats and hard names goes, when it comes to bull-dozin' me, I don't care that much {snapping las fingers) for j'-ou or your millions. You can neither buy nor skeer me, Mr. Steele. My principles are not for sale I owe you nothin' and I fear j^ou naught. Steele. — Men a thousand times stronger than you have quailed before my power, and you shall yet crawl on your proud belly and lick my feet for the mercy mj'' vengeance shall refuse you . Snio.— Pray, good neighbor Moreland, think twice before j'^ou make a mortal enemy of mj'^ dear master. He can be very dangerous. Be wise and conciliate him, before it is too late. Now do, my dear Mr. Moreland. {Enter Ball, intenily rea ling a book of fables. ) Steele {threatening Sniggerwell with his riding lehi}^.) — Get out of this, you sniveling, fawning cur ! (To Moreland). — And maj^ the devil in good time reap what you have sown . (Ball reads the following fable :) "Clitus and the Blister. A prominent alderman of Athens, named Clitus, being suddenlj'^ prostrated bj^ an acute attack of lumbago, sent, post haste, for Esculapius. ''J his,' said that gr. at court physician, ' is a case requiring heroic treatment. I will send by a slave a fly blister, to be applied immediatelj^ to the small of your august back.' Calling upon his noble patient at sunset, he was surprised - beyond measure — to find him still groaning in the remorseless clutches of the rheuma- tic furies. ' By all the fires of Sheol ! ' ejaculated Clitus ; 'that cursed blister has not even so much as tickled my epidermis' 'This is very strange,' re- marked Esculapius, ' for it was concocted in mine own laboratory by mine own hands, and from the best of material.' Let us look into this.' Whereupon he gently removed the distinguished sufferer s toga, and discovered that the blister had been stuck on the outside of his red flannel undershirt. 'By Mercury ! ' exclaimed Esculapius, with that fearless candor for which all physicians, in all ages, have ever been so pre-eminently distinguished; 'I alone am to blame in this matter, for I had forgotten that you were a con- servative.' Moral. — When told to keep your shirt on, remember that there are exceptions to all general rules." Steele.— I'll blister all of you before I get through with you. {Exit Steele and Sniggerwell. ) Moreland. — Rather a radical moral for a conservative fable, it strikes me, Boz? Ball,— I will proceed to promulgate — Moreland.— No; I haven't time to listen, as I must get to town. Come along, and you may read all you please on the way. {Exit Moreland and Ball.) ( Enter Frank and De Pille . ) Frank. — Well, my city -bred son of Galen, is not this glorious? Arching skies, babbling brooks, breezy meadows, fragrant woods, pxire air and freedom infinite ! De Pille. — I reallj' find much in these wild, untutored solitudes to interest me. Hitherto my knowledge of the country has been confined to such forty- mile-an-hour streaks of it as I could catch flying g'impsts of through the plate - glass win'lows of a parlor car If you do not, you ought to know that my rich but respectable father, the very late lamented Doctor A. Pille, fell an early victim to a forlorn hope council of his professional brethren, when I was yet but a toothless cherub; siuce which time my ever elegant and devoted mamma has scarcely let me out of her sight, and never into the country, from fear of the four-footed Wall strtet gentlemen and other dangerous creatures, rnnniug around loos'e, seeking whom the}- might toss up with, hug and devour. Frank.— But if your father's name was plain Pill, how comes it that j^ours is De Pille? — [spelling hoik hames loihoui pyonoiuiclng Ihem.) De Pille.— Easily enough ; a fashionable compounding, as it were, my dear, inquisitive boy . Papa was a plain, practical, substantial, hard-working Pill, without a particle of sugar-coated nonsense in his composition ; but dear mamma was a much more ethereal and eftervescent creature -one of the geotle, if not frail, Terra Cottas - a lineal descendant of that fine old blue-blooded Dutchujau, Von Dam Peach Blow Terra Cotta, who came ovL-r here to dissem- inate the blessings contained in plug tobacco, and to skin the Indians— not literally, you know, but by trading with them for furs and things. Between oui^c.ves, I suspect dear mamma felt that she had married somewhat beneath her, as the lineal representatives of those prime old, A 1, snuff-preserved, pioneer Dutchmen generally do. Shortly after papa went on an eternal col- lecting tour among the large majority of his patients, mamma moved into a more aristocratic neighborhood, and made the Pill more congenial, as it were, and easier to swallow, by prefixing a " de " to it. It costs nothing, and so, to humor her, I retain it. If a little weak on the question of ancestral crockery, she had the good sense to make me begiu experimenting on my fellowraan and woman where the paternal Pill left off, and I am an M. D. ; which dt)es not stand for ''More Dead," but "More Doctors"— possibly much the same thing, though. I gr.iduated at the head of my class, but came very near malung a fluke at the last moment, for when old Professor Gamboge asked what I would do if callt-d suddenly to prescribe for a man who had taken poison, I replied "Give him some more.'" "Sir," retorted the Professor, "that might be well enough in practice, but, mark me, you will never get above walking if you thus recklessly expose profe->sional secrets." Frank. —And you studied so hard there is serious daoger of your going into a decline. Ha ! ha ! De Pille. — Don't j(>st on so grave a subject. Dear mamma thinks so, and I am declining— to work. I should never have managed this little excursion with you but for that innocent bit of consumi)tive strategy. Fkank.— Well, it will certainly do you good, old fellow, and your respected T. C. mamma no harm. But what luck? I heard you shoot but don't see any game. De Pille. Shortly after you left me, to inspect the contents of the free educational institution nestled in yon vale, from my point of vantage on the top rail of the fence I descried a beautiful, big black and white squinel, with a lovely, bushy tail, trotting along in a ditch I got a good rest and discharged both barrels at once, and when I opened my eyes saw him piostiate and ex- piring ; but when 1 ran to triumphantly bag him, by the fresh waters of Avon Springs, how he did suiell ! I had no idea game would spoil fco (quickly, even at this hot season. Fr nk. - Ha ! ha ! ha ! Why, mighty son of Kamrod, that was not a squirrel, but a MephUm Americana. De Pxi.LE —What! a skunk? Good gracious, supposing— but, phew! let us change the subject. What did you tintl ? Fkank— Congratulate me, my boy, I bagged my game. De Pille.— Where? Fkank. — In the school-house . De Pille.— Game ? In the school-houtse V What arc you talking about? Fkank . — The school-mistress . Uk Pillic — Shades of LincUey Murray, you did not shoot the teacher? Fkank. — Not quite so bad as that, but I ran her to cover though . You re. member the young lady we met at the St. Christopher Bellow's Fund Benefit Concert, and with whom I was so much struck ? De Pille.- I ought to, for you raved about her all night, utterly driving that other coy maiden, whom bloody Richard vainly wooed, from my humble, but clean couch . Fr.\nk, — Now open wide your azure eyes in wonder. The school teacher is she, and she lives here with her father, who is an old widower. She is his only daughter, and he has, to his great credit be it heralded, given her a liberal education. De Pille. — And you have gathered all this vast and varied fund of informa- tion within the half hour? Frank, you have mistaken your vocation; you should have been a piivate divorce detective. You have both the requisite ability and cheek. Frank. — Thanks for the double compliment, which, however, my modesty must decline, as my detective talent was confined to merely opening a tardy urchin's mouth with a dime. But, Hugo ! Hugo ! you should have seen her ; sitting on her pine-wood dais, the lovely, incarnate queen of learning; poising her ferrule like a scepter; even the smudge of desecrating chalk oti the tip of her faultless nose, darkening with envy at the eclipsing fairness of her sweet face . De Pille. —This is decidedly the worst case of fever de mash I have ever known; pulse high, imagination flighty, cerebellum abnormally excited. I shall have to prescribe both bleeding and opiates. Frank. — Now that I have seen her again I am more hopelessly bewitched than ever, and will stop at nothing to woo and win her. De Pille. — Look you, Frank, no nonsense. For if I thought you the sort of chap to go in for harming an innocent girl, much as I like you, I'd shoot you first and cut you dead afterward. Frank.— De Pille, how dare you call my honor in question? De Pille.— It is a family trait, but, my dear fellow, don't get your spinal column elevated. I mean no offence; but, remember, there is always danger when a young mfln of yoni' station and prospects goes in for a girl in Miss What's- her-name's position. It is not an equal showing, you see, and too often one of the parties gets the worst of it, and it's not the male biped either, you know. Fr\nk. — Pardon me, you arc an out-and-out gentleman and a thoroughly reliable pill, under all circumstances, and there's my hand on it. I mean to marry Mubel Moreland- that's her name and I want your aid. De PiLLE.— But what will that dynamite-loaded, elderly Croesus of an old father of yours say to such a match ? Gad ! he'll explode like an anarchist bomb, and we shall all be buried in the ruins. Frank — It don't seem just the manly and grateful thing to deceive him, but this is a matter of more than life and death, in which every one has a right to choose for himself, and they say all's fair in love. He must know nothing about it until the parson has safely ferried us across the matrimonial rubicon, and then we must try and reconcile him to the irrevocable. Besides, you know that I have had the eligible daughters of designing old fortune-hunters actually flung at my head, until it has bred a perfect horror and dread in me of being married for my money only. I want a girl to love me, not my father's money bags. We must devise some plan to conceal my true position from Miss More- land until I have a fair chance to test the unselfish promptings of her heart. What shall it be? What shall it be ? De PiLLE.— Let circumstances, backed by my modest but inventive genius, decide that, and, if I mistake not, here comes the one to be experimented on first. {E}der MoRitiiAND.) Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Moreland? Moi:ELANn.-I guess the honor ain't heavy enough to make you round- shouldered ; but, all the same, I am Jonathan Moreland, at your service. De PiLLE. — Thank you, sir. My name is De Pille, and this is my friend, Mr. Hardy. MoretjAND. — Pleased to meet you, gents. Have you any particular business with me ? De Pille. —That is what I particularly desire to explain. I am, sir, a physician, whose iron nerve — {aside) I should saj', gall— has succumbed to the incessant strain of a large and exacting practice. As, like most of my profession, I could not obey the scriptural prescription, "Physician, heal thyself," an imposing — [ankle) — very imposing — consultitiou of medical celebrities unanimously prescribed and positively ordered absolute rest and plentj'^ of Nature's own rural, anti-sewer-gas tonic, as my last and otAy hope, and accom- panied by my land friend here to act as dry— (rwi /e) — sometimes very dry — nurse, I am here in search of both. Your name, sir, is a prominent and honored one in this vicinity, and hearing so much of 3^011 I made bold to ca'l and appeal to your goodness to take us in for a short time. {Aside) — that we may do the same by you . Moreland. -I never took any one in in my life, sir. Frank.— Capital ; but we have made bold to come and bore 5^011 by asking you to board us. Moreland.— I'm several slashins' this side of bein' a wealthy man, but it shall never be said that I was the first Moreland to sell his hospitality . De Pille.— I honor you for it, sir; but, you see, in this case it's not a question of hosi)itality, but rather a matter of business. You have something I need badly, and, as an utter stranger, I can't decently accept it M'ithout com- pensation. Mow, be at once generous and just, my dear sir, and take us on a fair equivalent footing. Wo are abundantly able to pay. Give us the benefit of only a week's trial, and, if at the end of that time, everything is not satis- factory, we will gratefully withdraw. MoRELANu. — It goes agin the grain to turn a suffcrin' fellow-critter from my door, but you see, sir, our accommodations ain't exactly suited to you city folks, and — De Pille. — Now don't say that. We arc willing, like snakes — Frank (a.9ttZe.)— Which we very much resemble in this instance. De Pille. — To live on air and memory. We'll double iip, too, and you can tuck us away in either the garret or the hay loft. MoRELAND. — I calculate we can do a little better than that, without bustin' a bed cord, or breedin' a famine, and for humanity's sake, if nothin' else, you're welcome to stay for a few days, on your own terms, anj^how. But I don't know what Mab will say to it. Frank . — May I af^k who Mab is ? MoRELAND. — My daughter, sir ; she teaches the deestrict school down yonder, in Elk Creek Holler. Mabel's her name, as it was that of her sainted mother afore her, and if her old dad does say it, she's the smartest, best eddicated, brightest and lovingest gal within a hundred horn-blows of this ridge pole. Frank. — You are indeed blest, sir, in the love and companionship of such a daughter. MoRELAND.~If any harm should come to her it would break her foolish old father's heart . She and Zeke is all I have to live for now. Zeke's her brother, and he's fuller of mischief than a suckin' coon. You couldn't keep him in order with a steam-power threshin' machine ; though I dou't believe in trym' to make an old dog out of a puj)py, with the big end of a club ; nor that any man can get good seed by thrashiu' green oats. It's just coltishness ; nothin' mean or vicious about Zeke, and he works like a patent wind-mill , {The noise of a fall and scuffle, accompanied by a scream, is heard in the house, and Mollie's voice exclaiming, " Yon young orang-outang ! if 1 get my hands on you I'll spank some of the deviltry oid of you.'^ Zeke runs out of the house pursued by Mollie . ) MoRELAND. — Hello ! what's in the corn now? Mollie. — He yanked the chair away just as I was going to sit down, and I sat right in the buckwheat batter. Look at me ! (*See.9 Frank and De Pille for the first time and shrieks .) Strangers! Oh, lord ! {Runs back into the house.) MoRiiLAND. — Zeke, you ought to be horsewipped. Fve a good mind to make you eat the batter raw . Zeke . — Don't dad. It might make me rise too fast in the world . MoRELAND. — My hopeful son and heir, gentlemen. Don't you think I ought to exhibit him at the next county fair? Why dou't you take off your hat, sir? Zeke. — Why don't they take oft' their'n ? I'm afraid of ketchin' cold De Pille.— You'd be apt to catch it hot if you were my progeny. Zeke. -Well, I'd rather go where it's a durned sight hotter than be sired by a dime museum dude, that has to travel under a circus top for fear his ears '11 git sunstruck . Frank.- Oojt on first base, doctor. Zeke. — Can you play ball? Frank. — I'm something of an amateur at the game. 8 Zeke. — Can you pitch curves, and all that sort of thing ? Frank. — Passably well. Zeke. — And will 3'ou show ine how ? Fjjank . — With pleasure . Zeke. — I'm internally yours, as the green frog said to the black-snake, and I'll be purliter to you than a drug clerk, and show you where the bit-'gest trout hides ; the alliredest bumble bee's nest you ever see ; wild strawberries, bigger'n your thumb ; a brood of young partridges; a coon tree, an' ! an' ! we'll have more fun than Robinson Crusoe. Frank. — Theo, we are to be all-around and all time friends, I take it. Zeke. — You bet your breech-loader — aud I'm like dad ; my word's my bot>d. That's my strong point, as the horseradish said to the Injun chief. (Mabel, heard singing . She enters loithout seting Frauk and De Pille ; runs up to her father, throws her arms around his neck and kisses liim.) Mabel.— Ob, you dear, darling old Roman ! As Mr. Antony says: "Lend me your ears." What do you suppose ? Moreland .- Under present circumstances, I might suppose, even agin the testimony of your own bright eyes, that you was blind . Mabel. — We had a genuine sensation in school this afternoon. A real, real, real city gentleman called. He pretended to have lost his way, but acted very mui h as some of my young hopefuls do when telling me a tib. He blushed and stammered and looked — Moreland. — Miss Chatterbox, you don't seem to see these gentlemen. My daughter, Mr. Hardy and Mr. DeKill. Dk Pille.— Pardon me— De Pille. ' Mokeland. — As you are a doctor, you will allow the mistake to be a natural one. De Pille.— Don't mention it, and I hope none of my patients will. Mabel (greatly confused). — Excuse me, gentlemen. De Pille.— The spontaneous outburst of a child's affection for a parent is not only excusable, but positively charming. Frank. — I must plead guilty to being the suspicious intruder Miss Moreland refers to {aside to her,) and truth compels me to admit that whatever I had lost, it was not my way. Mabel. — It may have been your manners. Frank. — Not so much of them « ither, but that I have enough left to sincerely ajoologize for the intrusion, and to most humbly beg your forgiveness. Mabel.— I ought not to grant it, for you upset the whole school, besides making me appear perfectly ridiculous just now. Frank. — Pardon me, you were simply charming, because natural, affectionate and truthful. Surely, that is not ridiculous, but commendable -in fact, sacred, in the eyes of a gentleman. Mabel. — My duty as a teacher will not admit of my bartering forgiveness for idle compliment. I must make it conditional upon your not repeating the offence. Frank.— I solemnly promise never again to attack the cherry tree of fact with the little hatchet of fiction . Mabel.— And that you will not visit the school again. Frank.— If you only knew what a deep interest I take in educational matter^ at prest-nt, you would not iusibt upon the last condition. Why not permit me to enroll myself among your most dutiful scholars. Believe me, I have much to learn . M.\i5iiL. — I gieatly fear, sir, that would be but sending the teacher to school, and I slioukl only expose my ignorance, without enlightening yours FiiAMK.— Perhaps we boih might learn something well worth the knowing. Mabel, . - - An d what, pray ? Fkank. — An unwritten language ; the oldest in the world ; yet ever new. Mabel . — What is it called ? Frank. — As yet, it has no name; at least not one that can be mentioned here . Mabel. — That's very odd. Frank. — No ; it is even, because it requires two to study it. Mabejj. — It is certainly very mysterious and, doubtless, metaphysical, andl detest metaphysics. Fra\k. - On the contrary, it is both the easiest and most natural in the world and often learned unconsciously, and to prove it, here endeth the first lesson. Mabel. — But I am not aware of having learned anything worth the knowing. Why, I don't even know you. Frank, --That were worth little indeed ; but as an unknown quantity requires a sponsor, my invalid friend there will certify that I am Frank Hardy, very much at your service ; a pereon of limited means and less ability, at present acting in the humble yet useful capacity of nurse. Your father has kindly granted Dr. De Pille and myself permission to remain here for a few daj'S, and I venture to hope that we shall merit and obtain the good-will of our fair hostess. Mabel. —You don't mean to say that you are going to stay here V Frank,— Such is the arrangement, and as it is getting late, may I ask your permission to look after our traps? {Aside.) Well, I have broken tbe ice with a headlong plunge, and now to boldly play Leander and swim and win, or else freeze and sink. Come, Doctor. De Pille. — No, thanks, I am too utterly fatigued ; and, besides, I want to go and see what kind of music, in the name of the weird and wild Wagner, that fellow is trying to grind out over in youder barn. {Exit Frank and De Pille. ) Zeke. — 1 11 be kicked to death by tom-cats if he don't take our fannin' mill for a hand organ. What a heap of seasonin' it will take to get the sap out of him I'm his tigricultural reports, vol. the one, from this out, lam, and he won't have to spit on his thumb to turn the leaves, nuther. {Exit Zeke. ) Mabel. — I never heard of such a thing. I feel like a wrong answer in vulgar fractions. Father, is it possible that you have invited this debilitated Pille and his-- his, cool companion to visit usV Moreland. — Now, Mab, don t shy and kick you're hind shoes over the smoke house till I explain a bit. I didn't invite 'em ; they just, somehow, invited themselves. One of 'em, as you see, is oft his fodder like, and begged so uncommon perlitely that I hadn't the heart to turn 'em away. They'll pay well too, for what they get -tho' I didn't ask it— aad a little ready cash, my wild rose, will come right handy just now. 10 Mapel. — But, father, the idea of turniDg the place into a boarding house for fastidious city gentleujen, and at a moment's notice, too. Eesides, you know nothing about them. They muy be dangerous and dishonest characters. MoKl■:LA^D. - They don't look it, and Dame Natur' don't make many mistakes in takin' photographs. Don't you worry, Mab, for if they can find anything around here worth stealin', we'll make 'tm divide, and thank 'em to boot. Be- sides, my girl, I have passed ut}' word, and that settles it. If they can't stomach our plain ways and fare, as verj' like thoy can't, thej' can move out, without givin' warniu'. If I've made a mistake, I'm sorry for it, on your account, but it is on the right side of human natur', Mab, and I'd rather be a fool with a he at, once in a whiie, thail a hog forever, without one. Mabel. -And I would not havfe you anything but just the dear, noble, big- hearted dad that you are {Jcisses him.) I was more surprised than vexed. So never mind my nonsense ; we will do the best we can, and if our guests can stand our style of living, with Zeke thrown in, they are worthy to be canonized as heroic domestic martyrs. But, dear father, this adds another to your maoy cares, and you already have altogether too much to look after. MoRELAND .— Pshaw, Mab, I'm as lough as Nebukedneezer, after he was turned out to grass, and good for these many j^ears. Besides you know I must put in some big licks this season, and pay for that forty acre wood lot I bought of Gene Smith. Mabel . — But, father, why do you work liike a galley slave from morning till night, just to get more and more land, when you have more now than you can manage properly ? MoRELAND. — My honpj'suckle, broad acres is the farmer's patent of nobility. The more lie has of 'em the higher his standin' and that of those belongin* to him, and when the good angel blows his evenin' horn for me to quit work, I mean to leave you at the top of the heap, Mab, where j'ou belong, and where I've eddicated you to shine like a dew drop. Mabel. — Position and riches, obtained at the saciitice of your health and comfort, would bring me nothing but unhappiness and regret. We are very happy as we are, r.nd for my sake, as well as your own, don't ambitiously attempt to carry a burden beyond j-our strength. You are no loKigei' a young man and should be prudent. MoREL.\ND. Tut ! tut ! little one. Stick to your three it's, and don't worrj- your knowledge box with things women cau't understand. I'll boss outside matters, while you manage in-doors. So come along and look aftrr the supj^er, while MoUie does the milkin'. It's gettin' late, and I'm hungrier than a party patriot. {Mxii Moreland ical this morning. 14 Sntg. {aside.)— TW fry the effect of a woeful snarl, or two— I am very sorry, my dear master, to strike a discord under such harmonious circumstance s, but I fear these returns and figures will not please you so well. Steelk (Zo'fc.9 rt/ p^/pers Sniggerweli. /koh/.s h mi) — I've seen all these before. Snig.— Not (pite. Steele.— What's this? Wattsbur*^ pre'inct 222 majority! Why, man, this elects me, beyond question ; let the three unreported districts go as they m>y. I'll make your fortune. Cub, for bringing me siTch news. A glorious victory, snatched from the very jaws of humiliating defeat. Now, it's my turn to laugh ! Snig. - My dear master, I'd rather bite my tongue off than have to tell it, but there is an error in this table, which, most unfortunately, I forgot to rectifj^ Just as you came in, Foxy Fall wired from Wattsburg that your majority there was only 22 insteid < f 222. You upset me so, by calling me so sharply, just as I was about to make the correction, that you knocked the figures clean out of my head. I'm mortal sorry, sir, both for my blunder and your great disappoint- ment. Stiet.e.— A mistake? A mistake ? lam more than half inclined to believe you have purposely played a trick on me. If I was sure of it, I'd slit your ugly throat, you false-tongued hound ! Snig.— That were a poor reward, good master, to bestow upon one, who for these manj' long years has plaj^ed the faithful watch dog. Be more j'ourself, I beg of you, sir; all is not lost, and we maj' triumph j^et. {Elder Telegraph Ckrk, "Click.") Click. — The returns from Fairview and Lockport, sir. Steele. —Quick ! Give tbem to me. {Beads.) Fairview: McKay, 134; Steele, 19G. Lockport : Steele, 300 ; McKaj% 253. Snig.- That's very good, yon see, sir. Let me nee- {fiijvres) — you are still 76 ahead, with but one more district to hear from — Elk Creek — and I don't believe that, even Jonathan More'and could change enough votes there to defeat you. Courage, good master ! although I must confess that the strange delay in hearing from there is enough to make one just a trifle nervous. Steele. — Shut your mouth, will you? and then j^ou won't blow hot and cold in the same breath. Snig. {(isidf) . - Perhaps I shall yet blow hot enough to roast you, and cold enough to freeze your marrow, my dear master. We shall see what we shall see. Steele .— Hark you ! You have a trick of mumbling that I don't like. Spit out what little j^'U have to say that's worth saying, and be done with it. Where is my son? I have not seen him for over a week*. Snig. — While I was making the secret canvass, as j'ou instructed, I frequently noticed Mr. Frank at Morelaiid's house, and also saw him strolling with our conscientious friend's fair daughter on several occasions. Most likely there's nothing in it, but when it comes to a pretty girl, we older heads know that young men are proverbially susceptible and rash, and Mr Frank is unusually impulsive; even headstrong a bit, at times. An idle flirtation, probably, not worth noticing ; though Mabel Moreland is undeniably a lovely creature, and Mr. Frank would be a fine catch. Steele. — Would he, forsooth! Who ever marries him without vay consent will catch a pauper. Although he is my only child, and I am devoting my life 15 to make him a financial colossus— rich, great, feared and courted— I would rather see him struck dead at my feet than that girl's husband ; I swear it. I will look into this aflfair myself. Let him not forget that he is my son, lest I forgot that I am his father. Snig. — "If thou wouldst have a servant with whom thou art well pleased, serve thyself," says poor Richard, and in so delicate a matter as this the advice is good; and yet in a case so nearly concerning your honor and haj^piness, and that of my dear young friend —if I may be permitted to call him so— I trust, sir, that yon will not hesitate to command my liumble services. Steele. — It I need you, I will use you. Meantime keep an eye on both of them . (Steele steps into the, adjoining room. ) Snig. — An eye? Yes, sir. {Aside.) "An ej'e for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth . " I'll be as watchful as a lynx's cub . {Enter Frank.) Frank . — Hello, Cub ! How sings the ticker to-day ? Are you, for the nonce, a bear's cub in its little deij, or a golden calf in the bull's manger? Now don't growl at that as only a stock-y&xA joke. Snig. — My dear young friend, how it cheers one up to see you ! You are as full of high spirits as a pipe of Hollands, and as buoyant as a balloon. Frank. — And as full of gas — eh, Cub? Snig. — If you are, it is laughing gas, Mr. Frank, and most welcome, for it's uncommonly gloomy in Bullion Burrow just now. Your good father is much exercised over the probable result of the election , Frank. — I am a paradoxical son, and, for his own success, hope that he may be defeated. He is staggering under an ever-growing mountain of care already. Politics, Cub, is like a country parson's pocket— there's nothing in it. Snig. —I am afraid your father's check-book would not agree with you {Enter Steele.) Frank. — Good morning, sir. Steele. — It is so long, sir, since I have had the pleasure of seeing you, that I had begun to fear you might not be able to recognize me. Where have you been, sir? Frank. — Visiting with my friend, De Pille. Steele . — I repeat — Where, sir ? Frank. — In the country, near by. Steele.— I will supply, sir, the exact information that I do not wonder j^ou are so reluctant to give. Dangling, like a love-lorn ass, at the apron strings of Moreland's scheming daughter. Mark me, sir, if your attentions to such a low- bred coui.try jade are honorable, they must cease at once, and forever. If other- wise, I don't care so much . Frank . — Father, would you have me dishonor both your name and my own? Steele.— Boy, I would cover Jonathan Moreland, and all who bear his name, with infamy. I'd have them wallow, shelterless and naked, in slander's oflfal, I'd have them driven wanton by wolfish hunger, and hounded to self murder by every loathsome pestilence. May my tongue be paralyzed, ere it consents to mingling blood with them. Frank.— But, father, what has Mr. Moreland done to you, that you should hate him so ? 16 Steele. — If you do not take interest enough in my affairs to know, I shall not condescend to explain. It is not for you to question, bat to unhesitatingly obey, when I command. I will enlighten you to this extent— that poorhuuse bride's are not in favor here. I have a perfect treasure of a wife in view for you. She is worth a million, sir, and I will add another to it on your wedding day. Fbank. — You are very kind and generous, sir, but I would much prefer to marry for love, on a single million, or even without it. Steele.— You are a romantic booby and not tit to judge. Love, sir, isbut a fashionable lie ; a leech's head behind a cupid's mask. It is but a genteel term for thrifty speculation . The goddess Money, with her locks of gold, is some- thing real, to clasp and fondle — no airy phantom, born of sickly sighs, but solid, tangible, fruitful and true, Fbank. — Has she a heart? Steele. — Yes, a minted one; and that's what's needed in tJiese matter-of- fact days . Fb.\nk.— If you will pardon — Steele.— I'll pardon everything except disobedience. You know my wishes, and so let the matter drop. I have other business to attend to. {A knock is heard (xt the door.) Come in . (Enter Woolly Southdown.) South.— Good morning, Mr. Steele, pray, can I have a word with you in private ? Sn;iii>E.-^If it is a business matter, we are in private ; what do you want? Soi jH. — It's about the Terra del Fuego stock, sir. SxEEi.t: . — You haven't burnt your fingers in that fire ? South. — Alas, I have sir, ai^d for a thousand dollars, and what makes it worse, sir, is that part of the money was not mine. Snig (a.vfde. )— Another good man en route for Canada. What is this sad world coming to? Steele.— Temporarily borrowed from your employer, without his knowledge, I presume ? Snig. iy>fwn the stnrnn.) -- This beats sheep washing all hollow. Golly ! he cleared that snag like a two-year-old. There he goes, ker-soiise, into the devil's wash bowl ! Tally-ho ! and away we go agin ! Keej) it up, Doc, and you can saj^ that you've took the longest and 19 hottest bath on record! {A hornet slings him.) Holy whoop! In time of peace prepare for war ! Thrashes about, strikts his heel against a stub, and falls backward into the creek ) Ball —Commencing to read a fable — " The Hornet and the Tramp "—{Is stung by a hornet) — Shades of Esop ! (Exit Ball, beating the air with his book.) Zeke {cdmbing up the bank:).— There ain't no fun goin' in swimmin' alone. I wonder where the Doctor is? {Enter De Tille, with a frightfully swollen face.) Well, tliey have knocked you out ! Was you stung niich? De Pille. —Knocked me out? Stung much ? I am nothing but a unanimous, animate pin -cushion, stuck full of red-hot needles. For mercy's sake find me a lake of arnica and a mountain of saleratus . Come away, while I can see to navigate, and let us get home, before I swell up so that I can't get into the house. {Exit De Pille and Zeke. ) ( Twilight begins to fall. Erder ISteele . ) Stiele -Playing the spy is not in my line, but I must and will know posi- tively whether my son is acting the prodigal and ingrate with me, by disregard- ing my wishes and insulting my authority, beyond all endurance and forgiveness. What keeps Cub so long? Curse him, he moves like a sore footed sloth. Will he never come? (JS'/.^er Sniggerwell. ) So, last of the laggards, night has not quite overtaken you. Well, what news? What news? I say. Snig.— Hush ! not so loud, sir. Pve seen them, and they're coming this way; so please step aside and judge for yourself how well and truly I have advised you. But, my dear master, let me beseech you to be calm and patient — undue violence might but make Mr. Frank more willful . Steele —Say you so. If he does not bend like a green wythe, I will break him like a dry reed . ( Exit Steele. ) Snig.^Now, my dear young master, whisper your love tale in a doting father's ear. Mine shull be told in a different fashion, later on. {Exit Snigger- well. ) {Enter MpiB^jj, and Frank.) Frank. — What a perfect holiday this has been . Was there ever another such a truant Saturdaj-^ ; when the sun shone so brightly, the birds sang so sweetly, the flowers bloomed so gailj^; with such fair arching skies, and perfumed-winged zephyrs ? It is so glorious and gladsome that it makes me feel as happy as a bobolink. Mabel. —And yet, like so many bright and beautiful things, it has passed all too swiftly away, and, as the lengthening shadows give solemn warning, will soon end in darkness. Frank. —After an outing such as this, why should it not lie down to pleasant dreams, pillowed on fragrant mosses and wrapped in a starry mantle ? Mabel. — Ah, yes ! but it will never wake again. Frank.— That's nothing to sigh over, for so many like it will rise with the thrush's matin, to take its place and borrow roguish brightness from your eyes, that not one, nor yet a hundred, ever will be missed. Why, then, should passing melancholy cheat you of one of its rare smiles? Mabel. — My eyes were dull, indeed, diil they not see how idle and far- fetcheil IS your blind compliment, which, as a supplement to the " woeful ballad made to his mistress' eyebrows," provokes a smile, though a sad one ; for 20 while I believe I am much less superstitious than most of my sex, a strange presentitnent of coming evil seems to chill the balmy evening air. Frank. — My dear Miss Moreland, you are the last person I should expect to see thus depressed by utterly groundless forebodings. Don't give way to '•loathed melancholy, of Hecate boru, in Stygian caves forlorn," or I, too, shall soon be "sighing like a furnace . " Probably fatigue has made you slightly nervous . Mabel. — It is not that, for I am a famous tramp, as you ought to know by this time, and could walk the distance OTer again without feeling the least bit tired. Frank— I trust that nothing has occurred to unpleasantly aflfect you. Mabel. — Indeed, no ! It has been the one perfectly happy clay of all my life, the like of whioh I fear that I shall never know again. Frank. — You shall have many years of them, unblemished by a single passing cloud, if you will but trust the fixture in my hands. Mabel. — Mr. Hardy, you take altogether too serious a view of my silly senti- mentality. It is getting late and it will never do, you know, for the school- mistress to be marked tardy at home . Let us return. Frank. — Stay but a moment, for I can endure this suspense no longer and must speak out and learn my fate at once . Miss Moreland, dear Mabel, I have loved you from the first time I saw you, and as I have come to know you better and to appreciate the virtiie and mental graces which ennoble your personal charms with their pure radiance, my passion is tempered with tenderest rever- ence. In all truth, honor and manliness, I love you, and here, in the sight of heav< n. which looks down upon us through the azure depths, I offer you my hearc and hand in proof of it. (Sleele rusJies out id Sniggerwell.) SCENE III.— A Room in MoRhLA>D's House. {Zeke propped up in an ea^y chair, apparently asleep, Mabel watching beside him.) Mabel. — Poor little fellow, how he has suffered, and what a narrow escape be has bad. Under Providence, be owes his life to tbe skill, courage and devotion of Doctor De Pille. How grateful we should all be to him. What a wise and noble man he is. And to think how near I came to turning a ministering angel from our doors because disguised in foppish raiment. I will never again j ulge from appearances alone. Alas, ma}' I not have already most unjnstlj' done so in the person of his friend, whom he so loyally defends ; and is he not far more capable of judging correctly than am I? How lonely the place seems without his manly presence and frank and winning waj's. The very animals appear to miss him, and when Zeke was delirious he talked continually^ about him. Even father seems to look reproachfully at me whenever his name is men- tioned. What have I done ? Oh Frank, my darling! I have found out all too late how much I love you, but you will never come back to me again. (.fi^nfer De Pille.) De Pille. — What, tears. Miss Mabel? There is nothing to cry for, unless it be for joy. Our Juvenile Electric Generator will be in full operation again in a few days, stronger than ever, and then, woe be unto them that monkey with the battery. You are nervous aod tired, and need rest. Leave him to me for a while. 27 Mabel. — Heaven bless yon, my denr, dear friend ! De Pjlle.— I am afraid I sadly need a prescription or two from that quarter. But, Ibis, yon know, is the Doctor's kingdom; so obey his edict and emigrate to bed at once . Mabel. — Good-night. De Pille.— ^o/(?^s nox, fair lady, and rosy dreams of many future conquests. {Exit Mabel.) Zeke.— Doc, you needn't walk sick-room Spanish, I ain't asleep. De Pille. — You ought to be; didn't I order it? Zeke. — I did my best, Doc, but there aint a single snore left nowhere about me. De Pille. — Then I will have to mix you up some more. Zeke. — Let me blow oft" a little steam, first. De Pille. — What do yon want to say? Zeke. — I ain't goin' to kick the bucket, am I? De Pille. — Now, there is a complimentjiry question to fire at the erudite faculty of this private hospital. Not this time; though what effect future medical experiments may have on your anatomj', I am not at present fully prepared to say. Zeke. — Well, I feel mean enough to. De Pille. — And why ? Zeke. — 'Cause I've been playin' Belzebub to a natural born saint. I've had time to do a heap of thinkin' since I've been stalled, and it hurts here (laying his hand upon his heart.) You've stuck by me when everyone else skedaddled, like a lot of skeered rabbits, at the mere mention of black dipthery ; and j'ou've nursed me more tenderer than my de.iir mammy, that is dead and gone, could have done. When I think how I've treated you, I feel worse than old Watch did when he mistook the beehive for a burglar. Either pizen me to slow and solemn music, or else take my hand — what is left of it- and say you forgive me. De Pille. — With all my heart, my boy. Nothing but an excess of animal spirits and surplus energy. I know some people call it pure cussedness, and try to deal with it as if it were ; but they run a great risk of making very poor sugar by souring very good sap. So don't get excited, but shake, and say ao more about it . Zeke. -You're the kind of go-as-j'ou-please Christian for a young sinner like me to tie to, and I'll knock seventeen kinds of rainbows out of any smarty, at the drop of the hat, that looks cross-eyed at j'ou . De Pille. — Y'^ou evidentlj' belong to the church militant, Zeke. Zeke. — Say, Doc. De Pille.— Well? Zeke. - I knowed all the time that wan't no bird's nest. De Pille. — A cursory examination led me to the same conclusion. Live and learn, you know, mj^ J'oung Audobon. Zeke. —And, say. Doc, I know something else. De Pille. — Is it possible ? Zeke. — You won't give it away ? De Pille. - Honor bright ! Zeke. — Mab's in love with Frank Hardy. 28 De Pille. — We'll b ive to m.ike a duct jr of you, Zeke. You diagnose heart trouble admirably. I have been cognizant of those symptoms for some time myself. Zeke. — She thought 1 was asleep, and, while I was playin' possum, got talkin' to herself, aod that 's what she was cryin' about when you came in. De Pille. -I know something, too, Zeke. Zkkic— Spit it right out, as the bad oyster said to the alderman. De Pille. — You won't give it away? Zeke. — Corn cobs twist my hair, if I do. De Pille. — I know who struck Frank Hardy. Zeke. — No ! De Pille. — Yes ! Zeke. — Who. De Pille— His father. Zeke. — Bunged up Billy Patterson ! AVhere's Mab ? De Pille. — Remember your promise. Zeke.— But, Doc, 'taint right, she ought to know. De Pille. — So she shall, in good time ; but I cannot see my way clear to it just yet, without betra^ang my friend's confidence. Zeke.— Well, Doc, if you say set fire to General Washington's Fourth of July wig, she goes. De Pillk. — How I wish, for both their sakes, that we could bring bim back but I have not the remotest idea Avhere he is, or how to reach him . Zeke.— I'll tell you whattj do; put a puroenal in the papers, signed Mab, sayin' it's all a mistake, and askin' him to return. I'll bet my game rooster a>.iii a bole in the fence that'll fetch him. L'i. PjLLE.-Zeke, you are a diplomat of the first rank, and I shall yet live to see you ambassador to Coney Island. It is a case demanding heroic treatment, and we will try it. {Enler Ball.) Zeke. — How are you, Boz? I'm right glad to see jon, and it's migbty kind of you to drop in on a feller, as the alligator said to the bull pup. Ball reads the following fable : "The Rabbi and his Slipiers. In the reign of King Solomon, a favorite Rabbi of the Temple w^as pre- sented at the feast of the Passjvtr with 1.700 i)airs of gorgeous worsted-worked slippers, by the adoring maidens of bis large and fashiomible congregation. 'What, in tbe name of the bare-f.oted heathens, will you ever do with such a deluge of 11 imsy footgear?' anxiously queried his wife. 'Racbel,' replied the good and popular dominie, with a solemn wiuk of his intellectual eye, ' last night, lo, I had a vit-ion of three golden balls over a side door in Jehosapbat alley.' Moral. — Even the heart of a pawnbroker is not proof against the pledges of affection." Zeke. -That just about fits me, and will do to go to sleep on ; so, if you fellers Mill give me a lift, I'll turn iu, as the Injun's toes said to his moccasins. De Pille . — Come, Mr. Ball, lend a hand on the other side . ( Ball, after a good deal of trouble in disposing of his book, takes Zekt's arm. ) {Exit all.) 29 SCENE IV. — The Family Eoom in Morela.nd's House. (AcO'utry galherinping his eyes with his handkerchi'f ) . — Alas! my dear, unfortunate yoang lady, you sadly mistake both my position and influence. I am but a drudge in money's ceaseless treadmill. My master is a strange, hard man ; at times even dangerous in his moods. Mabel. But, surely, his heart cannot be so encrusted with his gold that Mercy may not sometimes reach it with her tender touch ? Wealth, I have heard, turns men to monsters, but I will not believe it can breed fiends so horrible, as to ruthlessly destroy the innocent and unoffending. Snig. (asiih^). — She does not know the facts That's one for me. My dear Miss Morelaud, when I said I would befriend you, I meant it, and as a friend, I cannot lie to you, or lure you on to bitter disappointment with false hopes. Your mission here is worse than useless, and will fail. Mabel. -' Then is this rich man more to be pitied than his poorest victim. God have that mercy on him whii-h he denies to others, for the day surely comes when he will need it, even more than I do now ! I need not wait to see him. Good day, i-ir [going . ) Snig. {greatly agUaied). — Stay, Miss Mabel ! There is one who can help you. Mabel.— Who? Snig. -I. Mabel. — You !» Why you just now said you could not. Snig. — Not with him — but without him. Mabel. —How ? Snig. — Miss Mabel, my agony at your distress wrenches from me the secret I meant my grave should hide forever. I love you, as no man ever loved before. Mabel.— Sir, you forget yourself! Snig. — Here, at your feet, I implore you to hear and take pity on me. 37 Mabel. — Kise sir ; not another word. If yoii have a spark of manhood, spare me. Sn:g.— I am mad ; I know it; but I must and will be heard. For your dear father's sake be patient with me for but a moment. I have said I love you; that is ten thousand times too weak a word. I am your slave, and worship you. {Mabel aitenii its to inter IV Jit him.) You >/i«/niKten. (Seizes her hand.) You are the only being I have ever loved . Think what that means to me. I may not be as well-favored as some, but I am not an old man, and I have been frugal and aiu fairly wtll to do. Aye, even rich, rich, Mabel ! Take me and my whole fortune with me . Our wedding-day shall see your dear old father restored to happiness and assured plenty. The sum of all his debts shall be a marriage gift from his loved daughter's band. Think of that, IVJabel; think of it! His home; his pence; nay, his very life is in your keeping. Save him and pity me. I do not even bargain for your love, but I will strive to win and to deserve it, by being to you the best of husbands and the most unselfish and devoted of protectors. Oh, think of all I offer, and will be to you, and do not hastily reject me ! M.M5EL.— Oh, sir, this fills my cup of misery to overflowing ! I know what it is to suffer, and would save you from it if, I but could with truth and honor. But I cannot and must not be tempted to be false to both you and myself. I implore you, in turn, to pity me; for much as I sympathize with you, and respect, as every true woman must, the offer you have made me, I do not and never can love you as becomes a wife, and to give but an empty hand for all you offer, were both a s-hame and sin. Snig. — Y'^ou love another. MABEii. — You have no right to ask that question, sir ; but if it will comfort you to know it— I shall never marry. Snig. — Oh, Mabel, I can be so patient, and will wait, and watch over, and work for you, if you will only give me just a little hope, to keep life in me. Mabel.— You said you were my friend and could not deceive me ; I should be, indted, ungrateful did I not meet your candor with equal frankness. It is worse than useless ; it is cruel to torture me further ; or to thus force me to wound, where I am utterly powerless to cure, {Going.) Snig.— 1 cannot, and will not give you up — {aside)— not even if I have to summon all the arts of hell to aid me. Steele —(^speaking at the door to sovuone outside )— Spring it suddenly and surprise him . {Enter Steele.) Mabel {starting back.)— Thai voice! That face! They have haunted me for weeks ! It is he ! Steele {to Mabel. )— You here ! What do you want ? Mabll,— I came to see Mr. Hardy Steele. Steele. -And you do not know him? That's incredibly strange ! Well, I will do myself the honor of introducing you. I am he. Now, Miss, what do you want of Mr. Steele? Mabel. — Nothing, except that he will let me pass. STiiELE. — With pleasure, bordering on much relief; but ere you go, take with you a father's heartfelt thanks and blessing, for helping to lure his son from him . 38 Mabel. — YoTirson? Your larxguage, sir, is as inexplicable as iDsulting. I do not know liim . Steele. — Did you hear that, Cub? Why don't you bestir yourself to do fitting reverence to rural Truth incarnate? She does not know my son, and yet she saw me horsewhip him for dallying with her. Mabel. Your son? Frank Hardy your son? SiEELE. — Not Frank Hardj^ rare Miss Ignorance, but Frank Steele, whom, I repeat, your cunning blandishments have alienated from me. Mabel. — That is as false as you are brutal. If he is your son I did not know it, and he deceived me. Steele. — That's very likely. Mabel {facing him). — If you mean by that to foully sully with cowardly inuendo my good name, you shall dearly answer for it. Snig. {aside) . —Oh, how I'll make you pay for this ! Steel K . — I did not say as much . MabI'L. — Yoii had better not. Why, man, I do believe you are stark mad, that you pursue my father and myself like an infuriate tiger. What have we ever done to you or yours? Sti'.ele. — Designing womnn, have j^ou the brazen effrontery to tell me to my face that you do not know ? Mabel. — I do not. As matters stand, the lie rests with your family ; not mine. Steele. — Is it a lie, that your recreant, turncoat father— doubly cursed be he for it -upon the merest quibble refused me the support he owed his party ; cost me my seat in Congress ; destroyed my hard-earned prestige, and humiliated me before the whc^le country ? Is that a lie, I say? Mabel. — If, indeed, he did refuse to sell his birtb-right of free thought and action to such a gilded Esau as you are, I glory in it. Steele. — You'll live to weep for it. Mabel. — And if I do, it will be in pity for the defeated Crresus. In spite of all your countless wealth, how much poorer than my honest father it must make you feel, to know you cannot buy him. You are to be commiserated, Mr. Steele. Steele ■ — Heperve both your wailings and heroics for him. He will need them ; for I have sworn to crush him, and I will. Mabel -Will von, you golden tyrant? Perhaps you can, and make of him a martyr to that sc ired principle of independence, for which his forefathers both fought and died, and which to everj^ true American is dearer far than 'life. Do to him all that power and hatred can devise, and he shall yet, by his example, grandly stmd your master. You voice in his most wanton persecution the fiat of your class- that of a heartless, soulbss moneyed aristocracy, Avhich has set monopoly and wholesale gambling up as its bedizened, double-visaged god ; before whose throne you remorselessly command millions of freemen to blindly bow down, in slavish compliance, and to pay the tribute of their daily bread. Vouching for him, and all his robber priests and hirelings, as by your deeds you do, take heed to this in time -that Hunger and Despair are greater gods than he. Steele. — Truly, a well-mouthed warning, for which, in the name •f Wall street and the favored few, I most profoundly thank you. I am also gratified / 39 to note that as a schoolmistress, your elocutionary training has not been neglected. You should adorn the stage. Mabet..— And j'ou the scaffold; for you seek to murder under legal forms Seekle— By heavf ns- this is too much ! Would you make me forget you are a woman ? Mabel.— You forgot that from the first, and shame upon you for it. {Enter Moreland . ) MoRELAND. — Mabel, my child, what are you doing here? Not seekin' favors of such as him ? If he piles ruin on us mountrdn high, not a groan before him. It would be but music to his brazen ears. Seif-res])ect should bar the door of such a den as this agin us. The air here seems as foul ashisnatur'. Come away ! Come away, afore it chokes us! Steele. — This is no place for squeamish paupers. Go; and take with you this glib-tongued harridan, whose failure to entrap and compromise my son has made her flighty. MoiiELAND {seizing a chair and laising it to strike Steele. ) — Dog ! You shall not live to repeat that lie ! Mabel {interposimj) . — Father, what would you do? Leave him to God. "Vengeance is mine ; I will repay," saith the Lord. Steele. — No, it is mine, and no power shall rob me oi — {suddenly stops, stag- gers and falls heavily to the floor.) Mabel. — What is the matter with him ? Oh, this is dreadful ! Snig. — What I have been looking for has come at last. {Mabel goes to Steele and lifts his head.) Moreland. — Leave him with his like. Come away, Mab, this is no place for us. Mabel. — Father, that is not like you. You would not neglect a dumb beast at home, and I do not believe you would have me abandon a suffering fellow- creature here — one who is prostrate, help'e-s, and perhaps riying. He has been our cruel enemy, but the hand of Heaven is heavy upon him. It is not for us to judge him now, but to perform a Christian duty. Moreland. — Your mother's voice spoke them words, my Lily of the Valley. I'm wrong. {Removing his hat.) May God forgive him as freely as I do. {Filter De Pille.) Mabkl,- Oh, Doctor, I am so glad you have come. Something terrible has hajjpened to Mr. Steele. What can we do for him? (De Pille gravely examines Steele. ) Is he dead ? De PrLLE. — No. but he has received a very dangerous, if not fatal, stroke, and there's not a moment to lose. Paralysis, I think. I saw liis carriage standing outside We must get him into it and home at once, Caleb, you send a mes- senger, post haste, for his family physician. {De Pille, Moreland and Sniggerwell raise Steele. ) Gently, now ; that's it. ( 'iJiey carry him out.) {Exit all.) 40 SCENE THIRD . —Inteuioh of a Rough, Half Board, Half Canvas Saloon in a Westeun Railiioad Construction Camp. (Enter Biiov;^, Jones, Smith and Robinson.) Brown. — I am drier th;in a YaiiiK)uth bloater stuffed with a prohibition ser- mon. Whose got enough of the silver buzzard's tail feathers to biiy a round of Bourbon County's enlivening moisture? Jones. — The Wiconsin innocent got my last chip. Smith. — Dit— to. Robinson — D- o. JoNJS (to bartender).- Pard, is my credit good? Hi MixEU. — Yes, to keep. Robinson. — Well; don't give it away. Smith. — You're a star capper, you are, Mr. Hrown, to take a shark with a maw like a Wall street bear for a nursing sucker. Jones . — To make busted Jonahs of us all . Brown. — How? JoNi'S. — By swallowing us Avhole; that's all. R-^BiNsoN. — Boys, there's no use of chinning over a past ante; so, instead of squealing I'ke a coppered boodler, let's f-ing like true game sports. {Theij all join in singing the following song.) > THE STRANGER FROM OSHKOSH. I. We are the worst victimized cusses in town, solus. sohis. solus. solus. Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown ; On account of draw-poker ; a sociable game ; Then listen oh list ! while we sadly explain How the jack-pot we lost, and a sucker he done solus, solus, solus. solus. Up Brown, Jones, Smith, and Robinson. solus. solu'i. .solus. solus. Mr. Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown, Who now on their uppers are walking the town. n. Jones and Brown. Smllh. We had aces up, and I ma le a queen straight ; Eohinsou, solus. I called for a card to four beautiful eights ; While a stranger from Oshkosh, whom to entertain, We'd invited to join in a nice (juiet game ; He helped to the pictures and dealt himself two, Then blandly said : " Gentlemen, what do you do ?" What the gentlemen did then will later appear, And why they're all busted and howling out here. I 41 III. Brown, solus. Jones, solus. I shoved up a red stack, I put up a blue, Smith, solus. Rohinson, solus. I raised it a hundred, I boosted it two ; " I never was in such a steep game before, But I'll see you, and go you just five hundred more," Said the man from Oshkosh, gazing mildly upon io/ws. solus, solus. solus. Mr. Brown, Jones, Smith, and Robinson, solus. solus, solus. solus. And Robinson, Smith, Jones, and Brown. Robinso7i, solus. We sized up our boodle, and I called him down . IV. Said the man from Oshkosh, " To a bobtail I drew, And took in two more clubs ;" says I " it won't do — I have four of a kiud." Well, they aiut worth a cuss," Said the man from Oshkosh, "for I've got a straight flush"- And the Ace, King, Queen, Jack, Ten— he showed down, solus. sob'S. solus. solus. To Robinson, Smith, Jones and Brown, sohis. solus, solus. sohis. And Brown, Jones, Smith and Robinson, We were forced to acknowledge that kind of hand won. {Enter Fkank.) Robinson, solus. Smith, solus. Jones, sohis. Now I am flat broke . So am I . And me, too — Brown, solus. While I am worst bent than a capital U ; And the stranger from Oshkosh raked in our whole pile, « With a sort of self-satisfied, innocent smile. Saying : " Gentlemen, these things will sometimes occur, In the nice little, sociable game of Poker — By-by, Mr. Robinson, Smith, Jones and Brown — I will look you all up the next time I'm in town. Frank. — I could exchange places with even the lowest of those outcasts, if it would bring me a little of their devil-may-care philosophy. I have tramped and toiled u^itil every muscle aches and quivers, but can earn neither rest, nor for- getfulness. I must sleep, even if I have to drown memory in the fool's lethe. — (To IJi Mixer.)— Gi\e me a drink. Brown, Jones, Smith and Robinson. — Ahem ! Mixer . —What shall it be, sir ? Frank.— Anything ; so that it's strong. 4-2 Robinson.— Evidently no weak sister of the Ladies T. U. Brown — You'd better not monkey with him. He's loaded. Robinson. — If be ain't be soon will be, if be takes mnny charges like the one he lias just rammed home. Jones. — If we can't irrigate the body let us trj' to cultivate the mind. Here is a paper a new mis.sionar}' to Ibis heathen laud gave me, with bis blessing, this morning . Smith. —Spoilt the contents. Give us the jjersonals first; never mind the markets, lailroad gr;ibs, nude art and politics. We ain't got no use for them. JoNi'.s . — Where are the personals ? Smith. — Ought to be on first page ; left hand column. Jones. — Here they are. Attention, convict fathers ! {Rends.) "Belle Telephone 1 as s 'metbing of inter st to whisper to the distingue gentle- man with the ear-trumpet ; who danced with the cool lady in decolette bracelets, at Miss Fig-Leaf's Rule Britannia Brie a-brac Ball. I Wanted —A first-class burglar, as night watchman in a conservative Broad- way Bank. Must bring Sunday-school certificate. Address Cashier, Montreal. The young lady with the last English attitude and pug pup, who looked so sympathetically at the American lord trying to swallow a saw-log cane in a hansom, opposite the Brunswick yesterday, will evt-rlastingly oblige, you know, by sending her address to Monkey, this office. Frank. — I know all and regret my error. Forgive and return. Elk Creek. The journals of my jaws will run red-hot if I try to read any more without lubricating them . {Bokh up the ]Kip€r.) Fbank. — Why, that niirst be from Mabel, and intended for me. {Comes for- ward and addresses Jones.) My friend, if you have no further u«e for that paper, I would like to buy it. I will give you a dollar for it Jones. — 'Taint enough, stranger. Circulating libraries is mighty expensive luxuries in the fiir West. Frank. — What do you want for it? Name your price, man. Jones. Well, stranger, as I'm naturally of an obliging disposition, we'll say five dollars. It's dirt cheap at that. Frank. — There's your mone}'^. JoNLS — And there's the documents. I onlj' \vish I bad an afiidavit circula- tion of 200 OOO copies at the same figure. Have a drink, pard? Frank {tjazhuj at the paper . ) —No, thank you, just bad one. Jones. — All right. Over the Rockies, as we say out here. {W). — Am I in the creek? ^ 44 Zeke. — No, you ain't; and you don't look as if you'd been as near frf sh water as that since the cold summer. Walker. — What whiskey— I mean port is this ? What's name of landing ? Zi£KE.— Elk Creek. Walker. — Hooray for Cap'n Kidd ! That's the place I'm steering for. Who runs this light-house ? ZitKE.— This ain't no light-house, you bloated porpoise ; it's a farm house. Walker. — Is it ? Where's the cider barrel ? De Pille. - Once for all. fellow, what do you want here ? ZEKE.--If you've any special business with We, Us and Co. you'd better spring it quick. Walker —Spring? One swallow don't make a spring, and a spring don't make the kind of swallow I want either. I'm loaded Zeke. -I should say so. Walker. — With important information for Able— t-ible — sable — cable— fable — stable — no, for Mable. More -more - more - water. No, I don't mean water, and I never want any more. More -more —more land. Mabel Moreland; that's the watch- word. {Enter Mabkl.) Mabel. — Who is this vagabond, and what does he want? MoLLit;. — As near as we can make out from his hiccoughing drivel, he wants to see you. M.\BEL. — Me? What can he want with me? I am Miss Moreland. Have you afiylhing to say to me ? W.ii keu (fiiagfjering to his feet and staruig at Mabel. ) What are the wild waves saying, bister; roaring like a fat woman's snore? Are you she? Mabel. — As I have already told you, I am Miss Moreland. Walker. — Well, he ain't coming. He's water-logged and can't get here. M.ABEL. — Who are you talking about? Walker, — Hanky, pany, wanky, Franky. Do you know Franky? Mabel . — Franky ? Franky ? De Pjlle. —Perhaps he means Frank Steele. Walkir. — Correct! Go to the head. That's where the last drink I took went. Mabel — What do you mean ? That Frank Steele is not coming here ? Walker . — Just so . Mabel. — Why not ? AV'ALKEu (sings.) — 'On a reef of bright coral shall be his lone bed. And the clams of the < cean swim over his head. For O ! my love has gone, he has left me, I know." M.^BEL. —Besotted idiot ; can you and will you exphiin yourself? Walkeu. — No occasion for reading the riot act ; there's no mutiny aboard this ship. Mabel. —Answer n e, I say ! Answer me ! Walker {sUuiled and sohtved a little. ) — He requested me to jj resent his com- pliments and tell you that he was drowned. Mabel —Frank Steele drowned? Walker. In the most successful and satisfactory manner. Ship foundered oft' Cape Clear . All hands lost, except me and the cook, and another barrel of I 45 benzine. He asked me if I got ashore before I got too full to tell you, I'm glad I did. {Enter Ball.) Mabel. — Drowned! My darling drowned! You do not, you cannot mean it? Walker. — Father, I cannot tell a lie, and Cub Sniggerwell knows it. Mabel. —And 1 drove him to his death ! Miserable creature of fatal impulse that I am. (WikUy, to MolUe, who comes to her.) Do not touch me I 1 am a murderess ! I have killed my brave, beautiful love and destroyed myself Mollie. — Hush, Mabel, darling. Don't take on so. There may be some mistake . Come with me, love ; come with me. {Exit M.abel and Mollie. ) (Ball reads the following f able :) "The Mourning Mule Herodotus of Halicarnassus had a span of educated mules, named respect- ively Jane and Maria, whose bosoms were animated by mutual sentiments of the most tender affection. One evening when Jane was suffering from the ear- ache, the son of a slave crept up slyly and jabbed her in the stifle with a Canada thistle. Not perceiving the malicious urchin, and erroneously assuming that her mate had nipped her, she impulsively kicked Maria into the middle of the reign of Peter the Great, and, as mules and fools never die, she has been mourning, as one without hope, ever since. Jifora/.— Don't go off half-cocked." Zeee {blubbering).— By Jane you mean, Mab, and she deserves it, too. What right had she to go and kick poor Mr. Frank clean into the sweet bye-and-bye without lookin', before she struck out with both hind feet to onct? (Exit Walker with Ball's book.) De Pille . — Poor fellow ! I am afraid he's gone . BmjJj {discovering the loss of his book.) Gone! {Hushes wildly after Walker.) Stop him ! Sink him ! Blow him up ! Pirates ! Pirates ! CURTAIN. 46 ACT V. SCENE FIRST.— Same Location as Act II, Sce^je II. {Enter Caleb Sniggerwell.) Snig. — So the youDg rat, despite his scored hide, is returning to the old one, upon the wings of love ; which means the limited express, if he has money enough. It's luckj' that I intercepted the telegram announcing his coming. It may gain me a little time in which to play my hand out, and every hour is worth a trick to me now. If 1 hey get together they may gnaw through the meshes of my net before I can draw it. I am afraid, too, that stroke has weakened the old one's iron will . If the devil loves his owu, wlij^ did it not send my dear master to him ? I must see Mabel, at once ; fully convince her of Frank's death, and make a last effort to move her through her father's mis- fortunes. (£Ii;ii Sniggerwell. ) (Enter Mabkl.) Mabel. -Bitter occnsion fis I have to avoid this fatal place, I am irresistibly attracted to it, and here, at least, my tears may flow, unnoticed and unchecked, for him, my blind impulsiveness and cruel words, sent hence, in all his youthful excellence and love, to swift, awful death and burial in the yawning deep. If he were only sleeping here, in our last trysting place, and where we parted, n(-ver, alas, to meet again, I might find some little consolation in making daily pilgrimnge to his grave, to lay the tribute to his memory of sweet flowers upon it, and to offer np my prayers for his and Heaven's forgiveness. Bat even this small comfort is denied me. though not for long, for, oh, Frank, my noble, wronged, lost darling, mj' heart is breaking ! (Elder Sniggerwell and Frank— /.'je former sees the latter, without being seen, awl hastily withdraws .) Frank. — Mabel, my own forgiving angel ! Mabpl. — Has the sea given up its dead, or has my misery driven me insane ? No ! no ! It is, it is my — [Faints in Frank's arms. ) Frank. — Mabel, it is indeed your penitent, adoring truant. She does not hear me ! Wretch that I am, my rashness has killed her ! But no, she breathes, she revives ! M\b¥.Ij (s(riigg,i7ig faintly )— ^Pray, release me. Frank.— Dearest, you are ill and frightened, let me support yon. Mabel, (rallying.)— Mr. Hardy I beg your pardon, I should say Mr. Steele — if you are a gentleman, let me go. Frank (releasing her. ) — ^Mabel, what does this mean ? Are you not glad to see me ? Mabel. — So glad, that I thank God, upon my knees, for your safe return . Frank. — Why then do you repulse me? Mabkl. — You are too harsh with me, for, indeed I am overjoyed to meet you — as a friend Frank. — No more than that? ^ K 47 Mabel.— No moi'e. Mr, Steele I did you, unwittingly, a great injustice, for which I implore yonr jiardon. Believe me, I have both repented and suifered for it, and when I heard that yoti were drowned — Frank.— Drowned ! Who told j'on that? Mabel. — A drunken sailor, who said he was your shipmate, brought us the news. Frank. — There is ::onie mystery here. What could the motive be for coin- ing such a heartless lie ? Mabel. — I am sure I cannot imagine. He seamed too much intoxicated to be capable of deception, and he also spoke of knowing your father's clerk. Fr.ank. — He did r Then there is some plot afoot, and if Cub Sniggerwell has a hand in it, let him beware of me. But, dearest Mabel, why do you chill my hopes with such cold foriuality, when it is at your bidding that 1 am here ? Mabel. — At my bidding? Frank. — Most certainly. Yen sent for me. Mabel.— Never, Mr. Steele. Frank.— You did not? What, then, is the meaning of this advertisement? (Hands her the neios j taper .) Mabel (7'ca(/s). — Upon my honor, sir, I never wrote it, never paw it before, and know absolutely nothing about it. Frank. — I am utterly bewildered. What does all this juggling mean? Mabel. — I accidentally discovered, in a manner I do not care to pain j^ou by explaining, who you were and how y'>u had misled me. Fkank. — It is true, I did ; but, my darling, believe me, on vay soul, it was from tbe purest and b( st of motives. I loved j'ou from the first time I saw 3'ou . The anticipation of great wealth, nnd the selfish arts practised upon me by others, made me moibidly suspicious, and I resorted to what I meant should be but an innocent device for both our happiness, to try and win you without the glittering aid of coveted gold. Forgive a little sin, which only proves how devotedly I love you. ^ Mabel.— I believe you, Mr. Steele, and respect both your motive and your candor. Let that suffice . Frank. —Why will you thus put both my love and pride to further torture ? Mabel.— You wrong me deepl5^ I would give my worthless life to make yours happy . FiJANK. — Why then do you refuse me your sweet self? Do you not love me ? Mabel.— Alas, yes! Frank. — And will not marry me ? Mabkl. — I cannot. Oh! sir, if you love me, be generous; have compassion on my weakness and leave me . Frank. — Mabel, your conduct is inexplicable. Are j^ou trifling with me? Mabel. — Do not reproach me. I cannot bear it. As yon love me, be patient and hear me. I have made a most humiliating and unmaidenly sacrifice to truth in uselesslj'^ acknowledging that I love you. Does that look like trifling? Tlure are two insurmountable barriers to onr union: First, your wealth. I would rather die than be looked upon as a fortune hunter; and, last of all, by you. Frank. — I am far poorer than you; literallj' a self-discarded beggar. But if ten times my father's fortune should fall to me, I swear to refuse it all, if j^ou will have me. r 48 Mabel. — The relations existing between our families forbid it. It would be a hideous and imnatural association; full of hatred and misery to all. Frank.— But, Mabel, I can't see why it should be. Mabel.- You do not lnoGv.RW EJ^L. steal hi ly.) Not so ! There is, thank God, yet time, and I will make a better use of it than I have done for many days— and Frank, my boy Frank, shall have a hand in the good work. This letter from him tells me he is here, and would have come straight to me, but for fear his presence might not be welcome, and would injuriously excite me. I have sent for tbe 3'oung rascal, and little does he anticiftate the sort of reception he will meet with. 49 Snig. {aside.) — I'll take a hand in that. Now to wipe out all scores with his heart's blood aud at a single blow, aud then escape . {Creeps vp heldnd Stede with a dirk, raises his nnn to strike, hesitutis and draws Lack.) No, not that way ; it is too risky. Another fit would kill him. I will drive him frenzied into it. {Goes to the door and noisdy o]e — I do not ; and T do not believe it ; though if you have, I don't see how I can help myself, just at present. Snig. — What's come over you? Curse me if I believe the steam from a volcano would thaw you, or all its lava set you on lire. Steel,e.- Thci'e was a time when even a miserable peunj^-dip like you could do it ; Vnit thnt's past. Snig. - Is it? AVe'll see, you anchored iceberg ! for before I leave you I mean to melt you with a roaring bonfire of every bond, deed and valuable paper you have here. There's a precious lot of them, and I know where they all are. (Opens a small safe and to'^ses out a lot of papers, and next goes to rummaging in the drawers of a dn sslng case . ) Steele.— While you are preparing to burn j'our fingers, oblige me by not breaking any of the china ware. There are some valuable old pieces, which it might be difficult to replace. Snig. {^masking a vase on tlie floor). — I'll leave you in universal ruin. (Returns to his search of the dressing case drawn's, and while tJius engaged, Steele manages to open a drawer in the table and secures a pistol, which he tries to aim st"a lily at Snfggerwell by rt sling it across his left arm. Sniggerwkll discovers the attempt by the reflection in the dressing-case glass, and rushing upon STEEiiE, lorenches the weapon from, him.) You would, would you? I know from experience, that in dealing with you one must have eyes in the back of his head. (J'oixling pistol at hhn . Enter Fua'^k.) I'll fix you so that ,you won't tell any tales for some time after I leave you. FiANK {springing upon Sniggeuwell ) — Yon infernal assassin! (^A desperate sti'ugg'efor the possession of the pistol ensues. ) Snig.— Now, I'll lill both of you. {The pistol arcldentaUy explodes, and Sniggeuwell /aW.s, the pistol drops, Frank picks it up and covers Sniggerwell to?7/i it, who staggers to his feet chdching his left ar-m^) Frank. — Are you hurt, father? Steele. -No, my brave boy. Did you kill the villain? Frank. — No, accident only winged him. Steele. — Don't let him escape. {Falls back in his chair.) SCENE THIRD —Lawn in Front of Mont land's House. {Enter Mrs. De Pille, /o/ZowcZ by Zeke, swinging a very small garter snake.) Mrs. De Fille (.screams). — Take that venomous anaconda away, or I shall faint . {Enter Ball.) Zeke. — Don't get the jim-jams, ma'm ; it's nothin' but a baby garter snake, and couldn't get away with a June bug. But if its room is more pleasinter than its company, here goes— (/Aroioi' it away) — as the old woman said when she fell off the Brooklyn Bridge. i J 51 (Ball reads the followinfj fable:) "The Ass and the Eabbit, Once upon a time an ass and a rabbit got into an angry dispute as to which of the two had the longest enrs, and finally ngreed to leave it to the boa- constrictor. Next morning 1 he boa constrictor's youngest son said to his pa: ' Pa, which hnd the longest ears, the ass or the rabbit?' ' Well, mj son,' replied the boa constrictor, 'I think the ass's ears were a little the longest— to digest.' Moral. — Don't see snakes." Mrs. Df, Pille. - I do not see what relevance that preposterous deduction has to this occasion. Zeke.- If you'd had an eye-opener this mornin', ma'am, j'ou probablj' would. Mrs. De Pille. — I had both eyes opi ned this morning young man, and they are now open, lookiug very anxiously for Doct'U' De Pille. {Aside. ) I like to call him Doctor, it sounds so imj)ressively professional. Zeke. — I'll find him for you in two jerks of a lamb's tail. {Ex'd Zf.ke.) Mrs. De Pille.— Can it be j)0ssible that the inhabitants of these primitive regions reckon time by jerks, in that singular manner? {Enter De Pille, widle Mollie appears at the door and stands listening.) De Pille. — Well, my enchanting mamma, wdiat news? Mrs. De Pilie. — It is all right, Doctor. Everything has been arranged bj' my lawyer So, when that horrid auctioneer goes to knocking the poor cows and things do"wn with his hammer, you just stop him. MoLLiE {aside). — What a nature's nobleman he is. I dtuld hug him almost to d eath . De Pille. - Mamma, were the use of slang permissable in your refined pres- ence, I would raj^turousl}' exclaim: "You are a daisj^ !" As it is, I will content myself with simply remarking that you are the most angelic old lady in this "fleeting show\" Mrs. De Pille.— Old, sir? De Pille.— -Oh, not too old, you know. Just old enough. {Kissing her ) So don't spoil what we mean to make such a happj^ daj% by a single frown, but run into the house and see Mabel, and keep our secret, mind. Mrs . De Pjlle . — I will . {Exit Mrs . De Pille . ) De Pille. — If any woman can do that, I shall not entirely despair of finding a city belle that can keep house. {Enter Mollie.) Mollie, you are looking re- markably well this morning. Mollie.— I m afraid it's bad luck to have a doctor tell me so. De Pille. — Let me look at you. {T^eels Iter pulse.) Stick out your tongue I was mistaken in my first superficial examination . Another proof that street opinions are not to be trusted. Your case is a serious one. Mollie. — Good gracious ! What's the matter with me ? De Pille. — Your heart is affected. I felt it flu;ter when I took hold of your hand. Mollie. — You don't say so? What shall I take? De Pille. — Um ! ah ! I would prescribe an immediate change of name. Mollie. — What in the name of all King Solomons wives are j^ou talking about ? i 52 De PiLLE. — Mollie, for all the we.ilth that once through Tara's halls, I woukl not tay aiight to M'ound your ancestral pride ; but, to put it in the most diluted homoepathic form, Mary Ann Goggins is not a LonglVllowonian, Tenuysonian, Browningiferous name . Suppose you change it for mine ? I love you honestly and I need you much. Mollie {aybig).- Yon ough*, to be ashamed of yourself, doctor, to make sport of me on such a subject. Dl'- PiLLE. - My dear girl ; nothing of the sort, I assure you upon my honor. I could not be more serious if I was cutting off your leg. Moi.LiK. — You are trying to break my heart, and that is worse. De Pille. — On the contrary, I am trying to cure it. Accept me as your family physician and I will guarantee to do it. MoLOE. — Do you really mean for me to take you as my LusbaudV De PiLLE. —Precisely . Take De Pille. Moi-Liii. — It ought to be well shaken before taken. But if I must, I suppose I must, {•'^huts her eyes and opens her mouth. ) Give it to me, Doctor; but I hope it won't taste very nasty. (^De Pille kisses her.) My, it is sugar-coated ! Would another hurt me ? De Pille {kissinq her agabi,).- Not if you took the whole box. (Mollie stands ready for anoUier one.) But, I would not prescribe the whole drug store at tlis stage of the disease. Well, that's settled, and I flatter myself in a strictly pro- fessional manner. Mollie. — But what will your mother say ? I never thought of that. Dii. Pille . — " Bless you, my children." I will prescribe for her, too. (Enter Sheriff Shoetwoek ) Shoktwork. -How-de-do ! Is Mr. Moreland about? Must get to business at once. Tw^enty levies and tbree more sales on hand to-day. Time flies and justice cries. {Enter Moueland. ) How are you, Mortland? Hope you're well. Sorry my visit isn't of a pleasanter nature: but can't be helped, you know. The Court says so, and we must go. MoEELAND.— I'm a law abidin' man and can't blame you, Mr. Sheriff. Do your whole duty, without fear or favor. {Enter M.\bel, Mes. De Pille and Zeke.) SuouTwoEK {mounting a chair). —By virtue of — {enttr Steele, leaning on his son's rwi/)— divers and sundry executions — Steele.— Hold, Mr. Sheriff! Moi;elani>. — Is it not enough that yuu have beggared me and mine, without your coiuin' at such a time to gloat over the ruin and misn-y you have called down upon these innocent children and my gray hairs ? Feank . - Mr . Morelanl - Steele.— My son, let me speak first You are altogether wrong, Moreland. I i.m here for no such purpose, but to ask you to shake hands and be my friend again ; and, fuithermore, to restore all to you upon one condition. MoEioLANi). - AVhat condition can you name that I would subscribe to ? SrEELK. - A very simple, easy and most honorable one- that you bestow^ your daughter's hand upon my son, and I wish for her sake, he was an emperor, for she deserves one. 53 MoBELAND. — Mr. Steele — Mabel. — Father ! MoiiEiiAND {hesilates). — Do you love him, my child? Mabel. - With all my heart, father . McEELANu. — Then go to him, for while I won't be out-fought, neit'er will I be out-forgiven by any man. Take her, my lad, and use her well and gentlj^ for she's a pure diamond, without a flaw, and w'orthy to be set and cherished for ever in a irue man's heart. Fbank.— I have no words in which to thank you, tir; but I will ever strive to be as good to her as you have been, and no oue could do more than that. Zeke.— Hooray ! double or quits, as the flail said to the nigger's head. Steele.— And, my dear daughter, for such I shall henceforth insist upon calling you, you need have no fear of marrying a rich man ; for this scape-grace of mine has not a penny, nor shall he have- that is, until you give it to him on your wedding day . De Pille. — Mamma, it only remains for you to make two other young, lovely and deserving creatures happy . Mes. De Pille. — Who are they, and where are they, pray? De Pille {kneeling with Mollie . ) - - Here at your aristocratic little feet, dear mamma. Mollie. — Forgive me, madam, for I do love him so. Mrs. De Pille. — Shades of the Terra Cottas ! Where are my smelling salts? MoRELAND . — Mrs . Dc Pille, no man, nor woman, need be ashamed of her. Steele. — Madam, let me, too, intercede for them. Mabel. - Dear Mrs. De Pille, complete my happiness Zeke. — And me too, Piatt. Mrs. De Pille.— It is hard to teach an old Lidy new dances, but I can't resist your united pleadings, and I am not sure that some good, healthy, solid stone china will not be useful in the Terra Cotta family— (io Mollie)— s,o kiss me, my child, but for gracious sake don't muss my bang. Zeke. — As our preacher said last Sunday: "Wed lin's seldom used to happen very often in the olden times ; but they happen every day now-a-days— by spells." But, Mr. Frank, where's Cub Sniggerwell? He ought to ornament this here orspicuous occasion with his presence. Frank. — At present he is ornamenting the jail ; charged with robbery and attempted murder, and, later on, will, like Othello, do the State some service. 1 11 tell you all about it, by and by. Zeke.- I'm sorry it is not convenient for him to show up, as I have found out something worth knowing that I'd like to tell him . Fbank. — What is that, my soon to be sagacious brother-in-law ? Zeke.— That if you can't churn with a camel's hair brush, neither can you skin cream with a club . I Ks I h LIBRARY OF CONGRESS liliililillllililiiillliiiii 016 212 147 9 54 (Ball reads the followimj fable :) "The Policeman and the Night-Ket. ^ Once upon a time, long before the flood, or the founding ot China, when there were no taxes or tariff, and all the Hall politicians enthusiastically favored genuine Civil Service Rtfoni-, a dissipated night-key was arrested by a wide- awake policeman, for singing " Where is My Boy To Night?" to the scandalized inmates of an Old Maids' >sylum. 'You are drunk and disorderly,' shouted the night-key, ' and I will report you in the morniDg ' ' You are so full that you'Jl have to be bailed out and I'll lock you up till you are,' replied the policeman. Moral. — When you've got enough it's time to go home." CURTAIN. "Home, Sweet Home," — By the Okchestra t- \ LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 016 212 147 9