/ jaxe vHr Urthodaxv . 
 
HOXEY 
 
 ORTHODOXY: 
 
 COMEDY 
 
 In Five ^cts. 
 
 W. C. M. STECKEL. 
 
 -A-TTXHOI^'S EIDITIOlsr- 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by W. C. M. StECKEL, 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 

 r 
 
 «« 
 
 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Mabk Eushton. — A retired Merchant. 
 
 Deacon Jonathan Steadfast Hoxet. — An exemplary specimen of piety, 
 
 with one eye on the " chances " in this world, and the other on the next. 
 De. Ruggles. — An old discarded clergyman, who would make heaven a 
 
 shockingly common place. 
 George Washington Muggins. — A simple gentleman, whose faculty for 
 
 getting his foot into things makes this world a hot and lively habitation. 
 Charley Rushton. — Nephew of Mark Eushton, i Clerks in a New York 
 
 Harvey Chester. — His Friend, ... ) Dry-Goods house. 
 
 George Withers, Esq. — A young Broker, who believes in cheek, and prac- 
 tices what he believes. 
 Rev. C. Vincent Smithers. — -A meek and harmless young follower of the 
 
 Disciples. 
 Pat O'Donovan. — One of the undigested " Problems." 
 Ruth Hoxey. —A victim of early piety. 
 Nellie Rushton.— An heiress, only daughter of Mark. 
 Maria Stanhope, — Who has almost given up matrimonial hopes and turned 
 
 the flow of her maiden sympathies towards the poor heathen in the 
 
 antipodes. 
 Prudence Harraman. — A Yankee "problem," maid of all work. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 Maek Rushton. — Plain, open, dignified, yet easy and social. 
 
 Deacon Hoxet. — Grim and sonrfaced, with a constant frown; stiff and awk- 
 ward in gait; sharp and decided in conversation, as if his remarks im- 
 plied facts from which there was no appeal; aggressive demeanor. 
 
 Dk. Euggles. — Frank, blunt and outspoken; hearty and earnest in speech 
 and action. 
 
 Muggins. — Eccentric;- going by fits and jerks; speaking spontaneously ; some- 
 what simple; good-natured. 
 
 Chaelet Rushton. — Frank, light-hearted, boyish. 
 
 Chester. — Quiet, subdued, thoughtful, with occasional sudden oiitbursts of 
 feeling or passion ; dignified ; soliloquizing. 
 
 Withers. — Full of assurance; cool and self possessed under all ciicum- 
 stances; forward, cheeky and pushing; adjusts himself to circumstances; 
 hypocritical, or any thing else, when it suits his purpose; smooth 
 tempered. 
 
 Rev. Smithers. — Slow, smooth, drawling, monotonous, with a sanctified air 
 speaking mechanically. 
 
 Pat Donovan. — Vivacity of a lively Irishman. 
 
 Ruth Hoxey. — Animated, gushing and careless; in presence of Hoxey, sub- 
 dued and sober-looking, but mischief sticking out everywhere; out 
 spoken ; thoughtless ; changeing from grave to gay and vice, versa in a 
 second. 
 
 Nellie Rushton. — More subdued; naive and graceful; affectionate; retaining 
 some girlish mannerisms. 
 
 Makia Stanhope. — Very old-maidenish; longfaced and serious; never smiling 
 or given to any pleasantry; always speaking in complaining tone of 
 voice; sanctimonious. 
 
 Prudence. — Pert, light-hearted Yankee girl. 
 
 COSTUMES. 
 
 As the action of the drama is cast in the present day, an enumeration 
 of any particular series of costumes would be superfluous. Their selection 
 is best left to " the powers that be," keeping in view, however, their relative 
 fitness to the action of the play as regards character, time and place. 
 
 STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
 
 The actor is supposed to face the audience. E. means Right; L. Left; 
 C. Centre; R. C. Eight centre; L. C. Left centre; B. Back on stage; C. D. 
 Centre door; R. U. D. Right upper door; L. U. D. left upper door. 
 
HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE. — {No change.) Parlor in Bushton Villa. At rise of curtain, 
 Mr. Riishton and Dr. Buggies enter through hay-window, R. 
 
 EuSHTON. My dear doctor, this \isit is a real pleasure. Pd almost 
 made up my mind that you'd cut our acquaintance altogether. 
 
 RuGGLES. No, no, Rushton ! The fact is, I've scarcely put my nose 
 outside the cottage for the last six months. You know, human nature 
 has its weak sides, and clergymen, unfortunately, are no exception 
 to the rule. Ever since the villagers virtually kicked me out of their 
 pulpit, I confess I have felt just a little soured, and confined myself 
 to the companionship of my books. 
 
 Rush. If it's not an impertinent question, I should like to ask yoti the 
 cause of your difficulty. I've questioned Maria, who is a strict mem- 
 ber of the church, on the subject, but she can only roll her eyes 
 heavenward and shake her head. 
 
 RuGGLES. You see, I'm getting a little old, and sometimes become 
 impatient of the petty jealousies, bigotry and unchaji'itable bicker- 
 ings of my congregation. They listened to my sermons, but as for 
 reducing their Christian doctrines to the daily practices of life, they 
 might as well have been deaf, dumb and blind. I began to speak 
 
6 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 pretty plainly about this matter, and, to correct the narrow sectarian 
 spirit among them, represented Grod as the Father of the whole 
 human race, who loved his children, and made no distinction whether 
 they came as Protestants, Catholics, Universalists, Jews or Mahomet- 
 ans, so long as they came with sincere hearts, according to their own 
 faith. This doctrine didn't please them ; it was bringing too miscel- 
 laneous a crowd into heaven, which place they thought should be 
 reserved for a select circle; but, — to cut a long story short, they 
 voted me my walking papers, and called a young clergyman from the 
 city to fill my place. 
 
 RuSHTON. Yes, yes — the blockheads ! I know this young man ; he 
 comes here often ; one of Maria's pets. He'll just suit them — he's as 
 stupid as the best of them. I believe if any new idea should eater 
 his head, it would throw him into convulsions. 
 
 Dr. They say he's very successful, however, and has caused quite a 
 revival. 
 
 RuSHTON. Ha ! ha ! Yes, especially among the female portion of the 
 community. You know. Doctor, women are extremely sensitive 
 creatures ; very susceptible to the influence of religious eloquence ; 
 especially so when it rolls from the tongue of a soft young man and 
 is backed up by the terrors of brimstone, which is bad for the 
 complexion. 
 
 Dr. Now, Rush ton, don't be hard on the poor women; they can't help 
 it ; it's their nature. By the by, how is your daughter Nellie ? 
 
 RusHTON. "Very well, thank you. I expect her back from church 
 every minute, with some of the guests who are passing their summer 
 vacation with me. Here come several of them now. 
 
 Enter Charley and Chester from lawn. 
 
 Charley {shaking hands). Good-morning, Doctor, I haven't seen 
 
 you for an age. My friend, Mr. Chester {Business of introduction.) 
 Du. Good-morning, gentlemen — but what brings you from church so 
 
 early ? I hope the sight of a deacon and silver plate didn't frighten 
 
 you away before the close of the services. 
 Charley. Ha ! ha ! That's a reflection on our financial condition. 
 
 NT), sir ; you've made a very bad guess ; we haveh't been to church 
 
 at all. 
 Dr. Not been to church, and such a beautiful day too ! 
 RusHTON. I'm afraid there's a lack of holiness here somewhere. 
 Charley. You see, Harry is something of an infidel. 
 Dr. An infidel "? impossible ! 
 Chester. The term is misapplied, sir. 
 Rushton. It may mean any thing and every thing nowadays. 
 
ACT I. *l 
 
 Charley. Well, a skeptic then, if that M-ill suit you better. 
 
 Dr. R. Aud may I ask, my young friend, what makes you skeptical ? 
 
 Chester. There are very many things taught which my reason fail 
 to reconcile with truth, and for this some persons are pleased to inti- 
 mate a too close intimacy with the gentleman in black. 
 
 Dr. R. Your friendly critics are ungenerous. There are mysteries 
 connected with our destinies, which have been such from the begin- 
 ning, and will be so to the end; we are all groping in the twilight of 
 being, aud our finite senses cannot grasp the towering outlines of a 
 future in whose shadows we live. What is better still, the secret is 
 not imparted to any favored few; so you can tell the friends who con- 
 demn your doubtings that they had better not cry until they get out 
 of the woods. {Voices heard outside. All rise. 
 
 RusHTON, {rising). Ah ! here come the rest of the folks. 
 
 Chester, {to Buggies). Aud here comes one who will scarcely share 
 your indulgence to doubters. 
 
 Enter Hoxeij, Maria, Withers, Nellie, Muggins and Ruth. 
 
 HoxEY. {rubbing his hands) Here we are again. 
 
 RusHTON. And in good time. Mr. Hoxey, my old friend Dr. Ruggles 
 Mr. Hoxey, and Miss Hoxey {Ruth boivs); the rest you know. 
 
 {Business of introduction. Other characters greet Dr. B. 
 
 Nellie {shaking hands). I'm very glad to see you, Doctor. 
 
 Dr. R. Ah ! my little girl, you're looking prettier than ever. 
 
 RiTSHTON {seating himself, R.). You look as if you'd enjoyed a pleasant 
 sermon. * 
 
 Hoxey. A glorious treat, sir ; a strong, vigorous sermon. 
 
 RuSHTON. What was the text 1 
 
 Hoxey, Maria, Withers {in concert). First Samuel, 15th Chapter 
 first to fourth verses. 
 
 Muggins. The one-eyed chapter of the one eyed Sam-u-el. 
 
 {Buth puts her hand over his mouth. 
 
 Hoxey (looking fiercelg at Muggins). What's that, sir ? 
 
 Muggins {frightened). I — T — mean Sam the first, and fifteen chap- 
 ters. (Aside.) Hang it! I've put my foot in it! I must say some- 
 thing pious 'else the old buffer'U get down on me. It's where Saul 
 
 (*) POSITION OP CHAEACTERS. 
 
 :: Nellie. 
 :: Withers. 
 : : Maria. 
 
 :: Hoxey. 
 :. Rushton. :: Ruth. 
 
 :: Buggies. :: Muggins. 
 
 : : Charley. 
 Some seated and others standing. :: Harvey. 
 
8 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 is commanded to slay the Amalekites, you know ; and — and he sails 
 in awfully and slews old men, young men, old maids, young maids, 
 mermaids, mules, rats, every thing. Oh ! it was glorious ! 
 
 HoxEY (impressivehi). It was just. The heathen molested the children 
 of Israel and would not receive the Gospel. They deserved to he ex- 
 terminated. 
 
 Muggins {aside). I'm glad I'm not an Amalekite; that old rhinoceros 
 would swallow me whole. 
 
 Dr. R. I think such subjects might be left out of sermons very ad- 
 vantageously ; they do not tend to inculcate lessons of charity nor 
 gentleness. 
 
 HoxEY [poinpoitsh/). Permit me to differ with you, sir. If the heathen 
 will not receive the Gospel when it is brought to them with such 
 pains, they deserve to he put to the sword. Yea, smite them with 
 the swdrd of righteousness ! 
 
 [Muggins mimics Hoxey and causes Euth to laugh. 
 
 HoxEY [severely to Buth). Don't you forget that this is Sunday ! 
 
 Ruth [pouting) Yes, Pa. 
 
 Dr. R. Well, you seem to have this thing settled in your mind, so I'll 
 not presume to argue further. 
 
 (Buth, Nellie, Muggins, Charley, Withers and Chester, converse to- 
 gether in the bay-window, R. 
 
 Hoxey. I have no sympathy with any of the tribes of doubters, skep- 
 tics and heathens. It's mere stubbornness and conceit. They think 
 themselves wiser then their forefathers. Now there's |i young man, 
 (pointing at Chester as he comes forward and sits, R. ), and would you 
 believe it, he actually doubts the divine origin of the Testament and 
 divinity of Christ ; what do you think of that, sir ? 
 
 Maria [horrified). Well, I never ! 
 
 Hoxey. If that was my son, I'd thrash the devil out of him and if 
 I'd break every bone in his body. 
 
 RuSHTON. Come, Joseph, you're a little severe on poor sinners. 
 
 Hoxey. No, sir. Such men are not to be trusted ; they're capable of 
 committing any crime. If an employee of mine held such ideas, I'd 
 give him his walking-papers in a minute. 
 
 RuSHTON. I'm afraid we don't exactly think alike on this question; 
 80 suppose, for a change, we put ourselves into a condition of world- 
 liness and prepare for dinner. 
 
 Hoxey (rising). Well, next to a good sermon, I enjoy a good dinner. 
 [Sharply to Buth.) Come, Ruth. [Exit with Buth, u. c. d.). 
 
 RusHTON. Get ready, all of you. Come, Doctor. (Aside to Buggies as 
 they exit.) Ha I ha ! That's rather a strong dose of orthodoxy, eh! 
 
 RUGGLES. Yes ; what cruelty wouldn't such a man perpetrate in the 
 
name of religion ! Why he'd burn sinners by the wholesale. (Exitn. 
 {Nellie and Withers exit, u. c. d. Charley, Chester and Muggins 
 
 Charley. What do you thing of old Hoxey now? [^coyne front. 
 
 Chester. I think he's a thick-headed bigot. 
 
 Muggins. I think he's a d — n fudl. Rather a hard thing to say of 
 my prospective father-in-law, but then my motto is, " The truth 
 should be told though the heavens fall." 
 
 Charley. What sort of a preacher is ^his Smithers ? 
 
 Muggins. He's worse than castor oil. 
 
 Charley. That's rather hard on him ; but you ought to know some- 
 thing about it, you had an eye on the ministry yourself. 
 
 Muggins. Ha! ha! Do you know how that came about ? I'll tell 
 you. My mother was a very pious lady, and I don't know whether 
 she discovered signs of early piety in me, or thought I was good for 
 nothing else ; anyway, she determined that I should study for the 
 ministry. I kind of thought I wasn't cut out for that kind of busi- 
 ness, and after a stay of six months at college, the faculty thought 
 so too and gave me their permission to go home, with a pressing in- 
 vitation to remain there. 
 
 Chester. A narrow escape, I declare ! 
 
 Charley. And was your mother satisfied with the result ? 
 
 Muggins. Well, yes. Somehow or other, I always got my foot in it 
 at college. If there was any scrape, and any fellow was caught 
 that fellow was sure to be myself. One night the boys proposed to 
 put a young calf in the German professor's bed, and I was elected to 
 do it. We tied the calf's legs, put a ladder to the window, and up I 
 went, boosted by the other fellows. I got in the room all right, put 
 the young calf in bed and covered it nicely; but just as I turned to 
 go back, another fellow crawled in at the window. I asked him if 
 all was serene, and he said it was ; I thought so too, when he lit the 
 gas and C(dlered me. By George ! if it wasn't the professor himself, 
 with the President and wliole Faculty at his back. 
 
 Charley. Ha! ha! You must have felt serene! 
 
 Muggins. The calf did, but I assure you I didn't. 
 
 Chester. What did they do ? 
 
 Muggins. The President looked me all over with a sort of demoniac 
 grin, and then said : "Calf number one will please carry calf number 
 two to its bereaved parient in the stable, and to-morrow, calf number 
 one will likewise betake himself to his parient." 
 
 Charley. That was hard luck! 
 
 Chester. And the church lost a pussible shining light. 
 
 Muggins. Yes, sir. There's no knowing what's in me. I might 
 have provided a first-class sensation some day. 
 
10 . HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Charley. How goes your little game iu that other quarter, eh, 
 cupid ? 
 
 Muggins. What quarter? 
 
 Chester. Come now — the brirastonic quarter ? 
 
 Muggins. Ah ! I'm dead goue there. The Miss Brimstone, T think, 
 is in a high state of readiness to be ignited in the matrimonial bonds; 
 but before that event can possibly take place, there's a whole sea of 
 brimstone to be waded through to get at the old devil himself. I 
 shudder when I think of it. But I'm going to do it ; I'm going to 
 tackle the old coon, even if I'm slewed like a Philistine. 
 
 Ch^klky and Chester. Bravo ! bravo ! 
 
 Muggins. If I succeed, I'll arrange with souie fellow to send me a 
 telegram, the minute I'm married, calling me to Europe on business 
 pf life and death, and when I get a couple of thousand miles between 
 inyself and my amiable father-in-law, I shall lay off for the millen- 
 nium. (Looking offn.) Ah ! excuse me fellows, there's Ruth going 
 to dinner; I'll join her. (Exit b.. 
 
 Oharley. What progress do you make, Harvey ; eh, old boy? You're 
 too bashful ; I'm afraid you haven't the courage of a fly. 
 
 Chester. I can't help it. When I'm alone I plan just what I'm going 
 to say and do ; but the very moment she appears on the scene, I'm 
 knocked on the head, as it were, and seem stunned. Some spell seems 
 to hold me and say : " Keep your distance, young man." I have a 
 kind of reverence for her which will not permit me to come too near, 
 and when I touch her I tremble as though I had an attack of the 
 ague, or were trespassing on holy ground. 
 
 Charley. Pshaw ! this is all nonsense. There's nothing in a woman 
 to be afraid of ! Look at Withers ; see how he convoys her around. 
 
 Chester. Yes, he pulls her around as if she were the commonest 
 baggage — confound his cheek. 
 
 Charley. Why, that's his capital. Strip him of cheek and assurance, 
 and there's nothing left of him. 
 
 Enter Nellie, R. d. 
 
 Nellie. Charley — Mr. Chester, are you coming to dinner ? 
 Charley. Yes, Nel. Harvey, escort Nellie to the dining-room. I'll 
 follow in a minute. 
 
 (He 23ushes Nellie towards Harvey loho offers his arm. As they 
 
 are about to exit, b. 
 Withers enters, c. d. 
 Withers. Here you are, Miss Nellie; I've been looking for you 
 everywhere. (Goes to her.) Shall I have the pleasure of escorting 
 you to dinner ? 
 
ACT I. 11 
 
 NrTjLIE. Thank you, I'm provided with an escort. 
 Withers. Ah! beg pardon; remember our little walk after dinner! 
 Nkllir. Perhaps, {E.dt Nellie and Chester, r. 
 
 Charley. I say, Withers, if you're particularly anxious to escort 
 somebody to dinner, I'll call Aunt Maria. 
 
 Withers. Get out, you young rascal ; do you want to give me a sour 
 stomach ? 
 
 Charley. I didn't mean that you should swallow her. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 {E.rit, K. 
 
 Withers. I was just a minute too late. Never miiid, the counter- 
 hopper will be happy for a half hour or so. I'm certain he's in love 
 with her. Poor fellow! I know him like a book : one of those poor 
 devils who surround the womeu they love with a hah) of ideality and 
 look upon her as some sort of pure, superior being whom they scarce 
 dare approach. Ha! ha! I was so myself once. I thought Polly 
 Andrews an angel, but when afterwards I became very intimate 
 with her — gad ! how that feeling was knocked out of me ! What a 
 common lot of mortals we are, anyway, when we know ourselves and 
 each other well ! The womeu especially, with their many arts, pre- 
 sumptions, their haughty paradings, affectations, and thousand little 
 make-believes ; yet when we break through this thin masquerad- 
 ing crust, what poor, weak, dependent little things they are. Well, 
 old boy, profit by the knowledge and make it pay. You've got the 
 inside track so far. Let me take a practical survey of the field. 
 There's nothing like going at things metht)dically. First the prize, 
 - — pretty little girl — only daughter — father wealthy and aged fifty — 
 will do something handsome for son-in-law, no doubt — -or, at all 
 events, die within a reasonable period and leave him his fortune. 
 Next, competitors in the field. First, young village clergyman — ■ 
 pshaw ! a regular milksop — she won't have him, that settles his 
 hash. Next, number two : young dry-goods clerk — poor as Job's 
 turkey —no cash, no dash, no cheek — -don't know how to handle 
 women — a deplorable lack of brass; I'm afraid I'll have to rule him 
 out too. Number three, ahem ! Mr. Withers, broker and banker ; that 
 sounds well — I might add, on other people's money ; but that's im- 
 material. Well, Withers, you ought to know how to handle women, 
 and I think you do ; you've had enough on a string for it, at any 
 rate. If I do say it, I think you're about the right sort of a 
 fellow, and, by George ! you shall have the girl — that settles it. (As 
 he is about to go, Prudence enters and arranges chairs. ) Ah ! there's 
 the maid of all work. By the way, I might as well improve the op- 
 portunity, and take a kind of inventory of my future possessions, I 
 say, Prudence? 
 
12 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Prudence {coming forward). Did you call, sir ? 
 
 Withers. Yes. Why, I declare, you look neat and pretty enough to 
 be the mistress of the house. 
 
 Prudence. laws, sir, don't ! 
 
 Withers. It's the Gospel truth; and, by the way, this is the finest 
 house and grounds on the whole river. 
 
 Prudence. It ought to be, for I heard Mr. Rushton say that he paid 
 one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for it. 
 
 Withers {aside). And he must have about double that amount out 
 in other investments. By Jove, that's not bad ! Look here, Prudence ', 
 you know these old widowers are very uncertain beings, and some- 
 times take the matrimonial fever very late in life ; now I suppose 
 there's any amount of widows shying around here to catch the old man. 
 
 Prudence. Laws, how you do talk ! 
 
 Withers. And I'll bet you set your little cap now and then, don't youT 
 
 Prudence {screaming). Me"? 
 
 Withers. Why not '? You're pretty enough, and such things often 
 occur ; he's only fifty ! 
 
 Prudence. Only fifty ! I'd marry a dozen sailors first ! 
 
 Withers. Ha ! ha ! If that's the case, I'll write to the Secretary of 
 the Navy and tell him to send a first-class frigate up the river. 
 There'll be a chance for you. Ha! ha ! {Exit, R. 
 
 Prudence. Get out you. I wonder what's got into that fellow's head ! 
 I swow to gosh he's soft, or something worse. Marry a man of fifty ! 
 ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Pat peeps in at c. d.: sJioiving that he has been listening ; he approaches 
 Prudence unobserved, looking fierce. 
 
 Pat {in great ivrath, mocking her). Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Prudence. Halloa, where did you drop from '? {Pause.) What's the 
 matter with you ? 
 
 Pat. {fiercely). Biga-my — that's what's the matter. 
 
 Prudence. Bigci — biga — what are you talking about ? 
 
 Pat. Biga-my. 
 
 Prudence. AVhat's biga-my ? You're crazy ! 
 
 Pat. It is crazy I am ? Bedad, you'll be crazy before I get through 
 wid you. Didn't I hear you tell that jintleman that ye were married 
 to — to twilve sailors? That's what's biga-my — and ye were afthe-f 
 making me believe that ye niver had any husband at all, at all. But 
 I'll have the law on ye — I will. It'll be more thin twinty years ye'll 
 be afther getting, for they gave Patsey Rooney five years, and sure he 
 had only three wives. 
 
 Prudence, Ah ! get out ! you jealous Irishman. 
 
ACT I. 13 
 
 Pat. Irishman, Irishman ! and is it niysilf that made me so ? till me 
 that Qow, till me that ? 
 
 Prudenok. I don't know any thing about it ! 
 
 Pat. And by the holy powers, who are ye, miss, anyway f — a 
 Yankee — a Yankee! Ye come from the place where they'd skin 
 a rat for its hide, and eat beans, and suckle their children wid a piece 
 of pork lied to a string — where they have ten girl-babies and divil 
 a one boy-baby; and ye must come here to cotch a husband; and is it 
 the likes of ye that would thrifle wid the tinder feeling of an O'Dono- 
 van ? By the Holy St. Peter, who ever heard the likes ! 
 
 Prudence. You just git out ! 
 
 Pat. Git out wid yourself, you stuck up weason. Ye think ye look 
 mighty perty wid your horse's tail and yer cauiamile back hitched to 
 yer waist. 
 
 Prudence. You clodhopper ! 
 
 Pat. Ye think I don't know what's in it, eh ? Bedad, I do ! If the 
 goose that died the other day only knew where its feathers were at 
 this blissed moment, it would be dying again wid shame. 
 
 Prudence {threatening loith her broom). If you give me any more 
 of your sass, I swow to gosh I'll make somebody sick. 
 
 Pat. It wouldn't be the liver complaint wid tight lacing, would it ? 
 
 {Prudence runs after Pat and striJces at him with her broom. He runs 
 through c. d. just as Hoxey enters, and she pounds Hoxey, mistaking 
 him for Pat. 
 
 HoxRY {shielding himself ). Stop ! stop ! Damn it, stop ! 
 
 (Prudence, seeing her mistake, screams and runs off R. p. 
 
 Hoxey. Here's a fine state of things for a Christian community — and 
 on a Sunday too ! Truly the iui(iuities of the world are enough to 
 bring it to an end. This all comes from neglecting Christian observ- 
 ances in the family circle. But what can be expected of a man who 
 even harbors confessed infidels and blasphemers under his roof: 
 I'll do my duty, however, and report this devil's work to Rushton. 
 Nellie and Buth enter, c. d. 
 
 Hoxey {sharphj to Rath). Ruth. 
 
 Ruth. Yes, pa. 
 
 Hoxey {severely.) Don't you dare to go out of the house to-day ! 
 
 Ruth. Only on the lawn, father, with Nellie. 
 
 Hoxey. No! {Exit, n. 
 
 Ruth {pouting). That's real mean ; I wish I had as kind a father as 
 you have. 
 
 Nellie. Why, Ruth, how can you say so? 
 
 Ruth. I can't help it; I mean it. I can't enjoy myself at all, like 
 other girls. 
 
14 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Nellie. Don't be put out ; I'll remain in the house with you. 
 Ruth. You shant do any thing of the kind ; I don't want to spoil your 
 pleasure. 
 
 Enter Withers, c. d. 
 
 "Withers. Now, Miss Nellie, you must accompany me. I won't take 
 
 a refusal; besides, I have a secret to tell you. 
 Nellie. I'm sorry, but I promised to remain in the house with Ruth. 
 Withers. No, no ! I can't accept that excuse. See, here comes one 
 
 who'll be more agreeable company for her. 
 RiiTH (quickli/). Nothing of the kind ; I like your assurance ! 
 
 Muggins enter, r. d. 
 
 Withers {laughing). Well, I'll tell him so. 
 Ruth. You needn't trouble yourself ! 
 Withers. Then you'll accept him as her substitute. 
 Ruth. No — well, yes. 
 
 {Ruth takes book and sits on sofa, l. Muggins takes up hook and 
 
 sits on other end of same sofa 
 
 Nellie. Never mind, Ruth, I'll return very soon. 
 
 ( Withers and Nellie exit on veranda just as Chester and Charley 
 
 enter, R. 
 Charley {aside to Chester). Just in time to be too late. 
 Chester. That fellow don't let any grass grow under his feet. 
 Charley. What do you say to a rauible in the woods I 
 Chester. Any thing will suit me. 
 Charley {seeing Ruth and Muggins). Ah'! Miss Hoxey, will you join 
 
 us in a ramble ? 
 Ruth. Thank you, I don't care about rambling at present. 
 Charley {shjhj). Will you come. Muggins ? 
 Muggins. No, I'm not feeling very well this afternoon. 
 Chester. That's right ; the truth should be told though the heavens 
 
 fall. {Exit Chester and Charley laughing, l. 
 
 Ruth. What does he mean by that"? 
 Muggins {bothered). By what ? 
 
 Ruth. About telling the truth thcnigh the heavens fall ? 
 Muggins. Ah ! I suppose he means that — that if the heavens should 
 
 fall, we could all crawl in. 
 Ruth. I don't see any sense in that. 
 Muggins. Neither do I. It's original, you see. {They move around 
 
 sofa uncomfortably, apparently looking at their books, stealing shy 
 
 glances at each other, and trying to appear at ease. 
 Muggins. Ruth ? 
 Ruth. George Washington. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 15 
 
 MuaaiNS {aside). She swings my handle beautifully. {Aloud.) Funny 
 name, isn't it ? 
 
 Ruth {emphatimlhj). A huUy name. 
 
 MuoaiNS {(ietting\tienrei- to her). So it is. Shall I tell you how T got 
 that bully namef 
 
 Ruth {coming close to him). Yes, do. 
 
 Mu(i(;iNS. A very long time ago — that was before I was around, you 
 kuow — my father and mother hunted for a nice name for me ; wasn't 
 it kind of them ? 
 
 Ruth. Very. 
 
 MuCtOins. Well, my father hunted through the Bible and Webster's 
 Dictionary, and found Avhat he wanted; but that didn't suit my mother; 
 then she w^aded through a lot of poetry books, and found what she 
 wanted ; but, strange to say, that didn't suit my father. Then there 
 was a tremendous crisis. JNIy mother thought she ought to have the 
 biggest say in the matter, and when she found she couldn't, she cried 
 awfully ; this brought father down a peg, and after a siege of seven 
 dayS; they compromised and saddled me with George Washington. 
 
 Ruth. You couldn't have a better name ; he was an awful brave man. 
 
 Muggins. Didu't he slash into the Britishers and cherry-trees ! 
 
 Ruth. Do you like stories where there are big, brave men, who do 
 awful things for h)ve ? 
 
 Muggins. Don't I ! But I like them where there's some tough fight- 
 ing too. {The;/ get animated, and crowd together very closely .) Did 
 you ever read Robinson Crusoe — where he gets shipwrecked all alone 
 on an island, and has a mau by the name of Friday f 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! wasn't it nice ! 
 
 Muggins. Don't I wish I was Robinson Crusoe, and g/t wrecked on 
 an island, and you were my man Friday ! 
 
 Ruth {disdainfully). How could I be your man Friday? 
 
 Muggins {pausing) . That's so, by George ! 
 
 Ruth. Did you ever read the " Count of Monte Cristo " f 
 
 Muggins. Ah ! now you've got it — he discovered a gold-mine some- 
 where, and busted a ring that had prosecuted him. 
 
 Ruth. Well, a little something like that ; but he jvas deeply in love, 
 and another mau told his sweetheart lies and got her away from 
 him. Wasn't it mean f 
 
 Muggins {indignant). Mean ! — he ought to have had his head ]iunch- 
 ed. I wish we had something nice to read ; some good novel. 
 
 Ruth. Would you like it "l 
 
 Muggins. Wouldn't I ! 
 
 {Ruth pulls a yellow -covered hook from her bosom and gives it to 
 
 Ruth. Here; you read. [Muggins.^ 
 
16 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Muggins {reading). " The Buckineer's Bride, or the Broken Vow." 
 (He looks over leaves). Any pictures in it? 
 
 KuTH. Never mind the pictures ; read. 
 
 Muggins. Chapter first. On a dark, gloomy, tempestuous night, in 
 the early fall of the year 1701, a solitary horseman might have been 
 seen wending his way across the Jersey flats towards a point on the 
 sea coast. 
 
 KuTH. Oh my ! 
 
 Muggins. He bestrode a gigantic steed, which was as black as the 
 raven hues of the night around him, and was enveloped in a huge 
 cloak,whicli fell around him like the graceful drapery of some Grecian 
 statue. {Hoxey enters slowly r. and takes a seat, listening. Ruth and 
 Muggins observe Jiim, and are seized with great fear. Muggins 
 continues reading, hut changes the subject to what a})pears to be the 
 good little boy.) And — and the good boy, wouldn't tell a lie, and told 
 the bad boy that Oeorge Washington — tun never — never lied, and 
 he wouldn't either ; and upon this the wicked boy died and went into 
 convulsions and into heaven, and the good boy went to hell. 
 {Ruth nudges him violently. ) 
 
 Hoxey. What on earth are you reading | 
 
 Muggins {trembling). Only a — a little Sunday-school book — that's all. 
 
 EuTH {aside). Oh ! 
 
 Hoxey. That's right ; I like to see you so employed ; but can't you 
 read without stuttering so "? 
 
 Muggins {aside). I'll collapse ! 
 
 Hoxey. Bring the book to me and I'll show you how to read. 
 
 Muggins (asic^e). The devil ! 
 
 EuTH {aside).; Fall — break your leg — do something! 
 ^ Muggins {aside). He'll break my neck ! 
 
 EuTH {aside). Make believe. 
 
 Muggins {aside). Oh. 
 
 {Muggins gets up and goes k. to take book to Hoxey; he takes a few 
 steps and lets himself fall. 
 
 Muggins. Oh ! oh ! oh ! my leg ! my leg ! my leg broke — oh ! 
 
 Hoxey. Good gracious. Help ! help ! 
 
 {Hoxey and Ruth iiin and lift him. Ruth snatches the hook from his 
 hand and hides it. Rushton, Ruggles, Prudence and the rest of the 
 characters run in. Tableau. Quick curtain. 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. — Garden and grounds at Eushton Villa. {No chatuje.) 
 Enter Ruth and Nellie R. with croquet mallets. 
 
 Ruth. Just as I expected; no one around. That's the way with those 
 men ; they're never around when they're really wanted. Now if we 
 wished to be alone, I dare say they'd be boring us to death. 
 
 Nellie. Let's play a game by ourselves. 
 
 Ruth. I don't see any fun in that ; it's like having a dumpling with- 
 out sauce to flavor it. 
 
 Nellie. See, here come your father and Mr. Smithers : Let's ask 
 them to play. 
 
 Ruth. No ! no ! I'd rather swallow a dozen dumplings dry, than 
 have such sauce. 
 
 Enter Hoxey and Smithers, r. 
 
 Smithers. Good-morniiig, ladies : indulging in croquet, I see I 
 
 Jennie. Yes, sir ; we were practicing a little. 
 
 Hoxey {sourly). I'm afraid your minds hanker too much after these 
 
 frivolous pastimes to the detriment of more sober occupations. 
 Ruth {aside). More gruel ! 
 Hoxey. These things unfit young ladies for the grave and solemn 
 
 duties of a Christian. Don't they, Mr. Smithers! 
 Smithers. Oh ! yes, certainly ; although a little indulgence now and 
 
 then may be excusable — especially in young persons. 
 Hoxey. I believe in the sound old doctrines of training young trees in 
 
 the way they should shoot. Begin young; strike at the root ! 
 Smith E us. Yes ! yes ! When they are young they are more pliable, 
 
 and, as the disciple truly remarks, as clay in the hands of the potter. 
 
 I take great interest in the growth and development of tender young 
 
 roots. 
 Ruth {aside). Oh ! he calls us roots ! 
 
18 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Smithers {to Nellie). I saw you listeuing very atteatively yesterday ; 
 might I hope that you found my sermon pleasing and profitable f 
 
 Nellie. I'm afraid it was somewhat too deep for my comprehension. 
 
 Ruth {aside). Yes, like a bucket without a bottom in it. 
 
 Smithers. Oh ! these things come in»time. You are young yet ; but, 
 with time, your mind Avill expand so that it will be able to grasp and 
 understand all the mysteries which I humbly endeavor to teach. 
 
 Nellie {slyly). I hope so. 
 
 Ruth {aside). Then she'll understand more than he does. 
 
 Smithers. — And how did you like it it, Miss Hoxey ? 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! it was charming, delightful. I understood every bit of it. 
 (Aside.) That's no fib, for there was nothing in it. 
 
 Smithers {regarding Buth roith astonishment). Eh! yes! {Aside.) 
 A remarkable girl, that ! 
 
 Hoxey. Ruth has been brought up under the very sha low of the 
 pulpit, and is remarkably well taught ; would you like to hear her 
 recite a few chapters from memory? 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! Pa ! I've a terrible headache ; I can't recite. 
 
 Smithers. We must excuse you then, dear child. 
 
 Hoxey. Did you read your dozen chapters this morning f 
 
 Ruth {meekly). Yes, Pa. 
 
 Hoxey. Do it again this evening. 
 
 Ruth. Yes, Pa. 
 
 Hoxey. Come, Smithers, let's ci'utiuue our walk. I think I can con- 
 vince you yet, that it is more hanging which we need to reform 
 humanity. 
 
 Smithers. Very good, sir. {To Nellie and Ruth.) I shall have the 
 pleasure of seeing you again by and by. {Exit, arguing with Hoxey. 
 
 Ruth. Oh ! don't I wish that Mr. Smithers' head was a croquet-ball 
 for about ten minutes ! {She strikes fiercely at imaginary hall. 
 
 Nellie {laughing). Why, he's a very good young man. 
 
 Ruth. Is he "? Then he's no business here ; he ought to have died 
 young: they say all good children die young". He's a dose of para- 
 goric on two legs — that's \\ hat he is ! 
 
 Nellie. Ruth ! 
 
 Ruth. He calls us roots— says he's fond of I'oots ; 1 suppose he is — 
 all men are ; but I'd like to see the root that would have him — the 
 wretch ! Just imagine what a place heaven must be with a lot of 
 Smithers all dressed in white ! I declare I'd rather go to the other 
 place if it wasn't so awful hot. I want to be a sinner anyway ! 
 
 Nellie. Ruth ! how can you say that f — it's wicked ! 
 
 Ruth. I don't care : it must be nice to be a sinner: you can enjoy 
 yourself with your friends, and laugh as much as you please — -Sun- 
 
ACT II. 19 
 
 days iucliideil. I don't like to mope away a whole day in the gloomy 
 house, learning verses from a musty old book. There's some awful 
 people in the Testament, and they do all sorts of dreadful and nasty 
 things ; it makes me shiver when I think of them. I don't see why 
 they let such people have any thing to do with heaven at all ! 
 
 Nellie. Don't talk so, Ruth, it makes me afraid ; besides, we don't 
 understand these things. 
 
 Ruth. Nobody else either, I guess, and what's more, I don't Avant to ! 
 
 Nellie. Ah ! there comes Mr. Withers and Mr. Muggins. 
 
 Ruth. Yes, when we've been pickled by a sermon and don't want to 
 see them. Let's hide in the arbor. {Goes towards arhor, c. 
 
 Nellie. No ! not in there ; that's father's hiding-place when he wishes 
 to be alone, — no one else ever enters it. 
 
 Ruth. This one, then. 
 
 {They run into arbor, l. Muggins and Withers enter from path, l. 
 
 Muggins. I wonder where the girls <!au be. I don't see them around 
 the grounds. 
 
 Withers. Never mind the girls ; we'll have enpugh of them before 
 the day's over. Sit down and take a rest. Smoke f {They sit down 
 on bench c. Withers pulls out cigars and offers them to Muggins. 
 
 Muggins. Yes, thank you. {Lights cigar. 
 
 Withers {lounging easily). "He who smokes thinks like a philo- 
 sopher ! " 
 
 Muggins. Is that so ? ' ■ 
 
 Withers {slowly blowing out a cloud of smoke). So they say. 
 
 Muggins. Then philosophers must be devil of fellows after the girls. 
 
 Withers. How so f 
 
 Muggins. Why, when I smoke, I always think of the girls : formerly 
 it used to be the girls generally ; now it's a girl in particular. 
 
 Withers. Ha ! ha ! and it wouldn't take a sphinx to guess who that 
 particular person is, eh ? 
 
 Muggins. Do you know "? 
 
 Withers. Do I know ! why, it's written on your shirt-collar, on your 
 boots, your nose, your eyes ; it sticks out everywhere. 
 
 Muggins (folloinng him, much bewildered). The devil it does. I don't 
 see it ! 
 
 Withers. Blind folks don't see. 
 
 Muggins. What are you driving at ; is that cigar too strong for you "l 
 
 Withers. Bless me : how green ! Why, Muggins, you're a perambu- 
 lating compass ; it doesn't take a man ten minutes to find out where 
 your north pole is — and an excellent pole is Ruth. 
 
 Ruth (indoor of summer house). Oh ! 
 
 Withers. Eh ! 
 
20 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Muggins. Any thing ailing you ? 
 
 Withers. No ; are you nervous "? 
 
 Muggins. No. I thought you struck your funny-bone or an idea. 
 If you are so very observing, I suppose you must know that there's 
 a confounded south pole around ! 
 
 Withers (puffing). Whenever your coat-tail may be descried hastily 
 disappearing around some corner, it's a sure sign Hoxey's around. 
 
 Muggins. Ah, yes ! That south pole's the great sorrow of my life. 
 
 Withers. Haven't you got gumption enough to outflank the old 
 hardcrust ? 
 
 Muggins. I don't know ; he's the ten commandments on legs, and 
 when he's around I feel as if I had broken through the whole slate. 
 
 Withers. I'll tell you what to do ; follow my advice, and you'll get 
 the best of him. 
 
 Muggins. By George, I'll try it. 
 
 Withers. In the first place, you must get religion — a change of heart . 
 
 Muggins. A change of what ? 
 
 Withers. A change of heart. 
 
 Muggins. How the devil's that to be done ? 
 
 Withers. That's a hypothetical name for something which we imag- 
 ine : you must make believe, you know. Join the Church; talk gij a B i ^ 
 piety and sentiment ; put in a prayer whenever you get an opportun- 
 ity, and take a hand in all the little meetings; make yourself useful, and 
 be particularly attentive and graceful to the old ladies and maidens of 
 the congregation. Now and then, when you find a good opportunity, 
 throw, in a few mild scriptural quotations, and when your elders are 
 saying any thing, listen to them with open-mouthed admiration, as 
 if they were saying something wonderful. Do this, and your reputa- 
 tion for piety will grow like a mushroom ; you will gain entree into 
 the best families, and, if you play your cards well, you can marry the 
 richest girl in the market. 
 
 Muggins. Do -you think I can pull the wool over old Hoxey in that 
 way ? 
 
 Withers. Certainly ; he'll doat on you, or any other rascal who is a 
 good enough hypocrite to play his part well. 
 
 Muggins. By George ! I've got a change of heart. 
 
 Withers. Already ! Ha ! ha ! That's good. 
 
 Muggins. But suppose Ruth may not like this pious business ! 
 
 Withers. Pshaw ! You must be bold with her. Women like to be 
 taken by storm ; you must break through the little breastwork of 
 conventionalities with wliich they surround themselves and overcome 
 their weak resistance ; they'll like you all the better for it ; they like 
 to be mastered. 
 
ACT II. 21 
 
 Muggins. But suppose they got mad ? 
 
 Withers. It will only be sham madness ; humble yourself before 
 them, and they'll forgive you : they like us too well to permit us to 
 slip through their fingers — and, by the 'way, you are one of those 
 lucky fellows who are well fixed. 
 
 Muggins. Yes. My father fixed me— poor old man ! He died and 
 left his hard-earned fortune to a lazy fellow like me. 
 
 Withers. He very kindly saved you the trouble of marrying one. 
 
 Muggins. Then you don't believe in marrying for love ? 
 
 Withers. All bosh ! The sentimental fever called h)ve soon disap- 
 pears ; but money and its attending comforts are enduring. It gives 
 you power, a social position, independence, pleasure. Where is the 
 poor devil with his narrow income, his wife and his love ? Constantly 
 struggling to keep up adecent appearance and to makeiasdasends meet; 
 one continuous strain and worry ; living in poor quarters ; constantly 
 ■aet humbled in his pride ; the slave of each rich, unscrupulous knave 
 0^ close-fisted merchant ; yesterday, to-day, to-morrow — always the 
 same monotonous routine, with the grim, threatening spectre of the 
 future, uncertainty and poverty, in the background. Then you take 
 your wife out, and are swept to the curbstone by the rich trains of 
 passing wealthy fashionables. The wife looks on with keen desire, 
 and wonders why she cannot possess such fineries, and that, if her 
 husband was any kind of a man, he ought to support her better. Then 
 bitterness creeps in and smothers what love remains ; and two beings, 
 yoked together like oxen, pull away for kingdom come. No, no ; 
 marrying for love is a bad speculation, unless a fortune goes with it ; 
 and if the man possesses none, let him marry one. What matters it 
 who the woman is, so long as she's passable in appearance, has little 
 taste, and is dutiful — which latter qualification is the husband's look- 
 out to enforce. 
 Muggins. Well, as the old lady remarked to the cow, " every one to 
 his taste." But I'd rather ha Ve Ruth than any com' — I mean any 
 fortune laying around loose. I tell you, sir, there's something in 
 love which you don't seem to understand. It makes a fellow feel as 
 though — as though — as though he had an attack of some gentle and 
 sweetened kind of chills and fever. 
 Withers. Lunacy, you mean. 
 Muggins. Lunacy, I don't mean ! You can laugh, but, as the poet 
 
 says, " Who has not felt the gentle power — ? '' 
 Withers. Of Limburger cheese and bourbon sour. 
 Muggins (irritated). Get out ! you've no soul for poetry ! 
 Withers {rising). I'm afraid my i)oetic bump was smothered in its 
 infancy. Halloa, who's that coming "? (Looking off, l. 
 
22 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Muggins. It's the Virgin Maria and the Holy Ghost. I'm oflF. 
 Withers. I'm with yon ; they're a little too much for me. 
 
 {Exit both, R. 
 Ruth and Nellie step out of hou^er. 
 
 Ruth {shaking her fist at the departing Withers). the wretch ! 
 
 he's corrupting my Muggins. He calls me a pole. 
 Nellie {sadly). Listeners never hear any good, you know. After all, 
 
 you have learned that Muggins loves you. 
 Ruth. Yes, I'll forgive him a little ; but just let him try to take me by 
 
 storm, and see what I'll do him. Take care! here comes vinegar and 
 
 bitters. 
 
 {They both r^m into arbor again and watch them from door. 
 Enter Maria and Smithers, L. 
 
 Smithers. Then I can depend on your valuable assistance, can I not, 
 my dear Miss Stanhope f . . 
 
 Maria. I will do all I can; but I have already told you that Nellie i&. 
 a totally spoiled girl. My poor uncle, I'm sorry to say, has very loose 
 notions, and lets her do pretty much as she pleases. I have striven 
 hard to instruct her mind with righteousness, but, I'm afraid, my 
 efforts have been attended with but indiflerent success. She prefers 
 friends, company, and frivolous pleasures of the world, to prayer-meet- 
 ings ; and I can but seldom induce her to attend our sewing circle, 
 and aid in the charitable work of making trousers for the poor 
 heathen savages in China. 
 
 Smithers. But I'll take her from this house and its worldly allure- 
 ments, and surround her with the benign influences of a more holy 
 atmosphere ; I will be to her as is the gentle shepherd to the tender- 
 est of his flock, and she will be very happy under my protecting 
 wing. Ah! if she only had your Christian virtue, I should have no 
 difficulty in apprc»achiug her. 
 
 Maria {regarding him tenderly). Don't you think a more mature wife 
 would be more fitting for you ? — one who could sympathize with and 
 appreciate your grand works ? 
 
 Smithers. Ah, yes ! But it is better that I marry Miss Nellie, and 
 pluck her from the frivolous path which leads to everlasting and ever- 
 lasting fire. {They exit, r. 
 
 Ruth {in door of arbor). Well, I never! That old thing is actually 
 trying to marry you to that young mush-and-milk parson. ! here 
 is somebody else. 
 
 They draw back as Charley and Harvey enter, l. 
 Charley. I declare, a fellow might as well go walking with a stick 
 
ACT II. 23- 
 
 as with yoii. Why, it's as much as I can do to get an answer to a 
 point-blank question. 
 
 Harvey. Beg pardon, Charley : I've been very busy thinking. 
 
 Charley. Of Nellie, no doubt; that's the only thing that seems to 
 run in your head. 
 
 Harvey. I can't help it ; besides, I like to think of her. I've been 
 laying some new plans. 
 
 Charley. What are they? Come, spin them out ! 
 
 Harvey. I'll go back to New York, and move heaven and earth to 
 make a strike, or to secure some position which will justify me in 
 coming back and pressing my suit. 
 
 Charley. It's wonderful to see what havoc love will malce with a 
 fellow's common sense ! Why, Harvey, your chances for moving 
 heaven and earth are about as good as those of making a sudden 
 strike. It wants friends, influential backing and money for those 
 things. If you had the heart of a saint, the head of a Webster, and 
 the energy of a Napoleon — mthout friends or money, you might 
 struggle a long time before you would drift into channels in which 
 your faculties could assert themselves and receive proper recognition. 
 Not possessing these great qualities, you will perceive that the chances 
 are rather slim ; and, during your absence, Withers, or some other 
 forward fellow, will carry off the prize. No, no ! If I loved a girl as 
 you do, I'd go for her like a thousand of bricks. Make yourself 
 agreeable to her ; and when you see a favorable chance, pop the 
 question. You're a trump, Harvey, and trumps are not so plenty 
 nowadays. 
 
 Harvey. No soft soap, Charley. 
 
 Charley. I'm serious. What better linsband can a girl have than 
 one who possesses an honest heart ? 
 
 Harvey. Poverty is a great obstacle. 
 
 Charley. With you, bashfulness is the worst. 
 
 Harvey. It's not bashfulness ; it's a kind of veneration which — which 
 I can't explain. 
 
 Charley. Well, we won't quarrel about names. 
 
 Enter Muggins and Withers, r. 
 
 Muggins. Ah ! boys, here you are ! What do yor. think Withers is 
 
 trying to ram down my throat "l 
 Withers. Come ! no tales out of school ! 
 Muggins. I'll put it to them as intelligent jurymen. 
 Charley. I haven't read the papers for three weeks ; that may qualify 
 
 me. Who's the culprit ? 
 Muggins. Who! why, the whole woman creati(m ! 
 
24 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Charley. Gad ! you can't get an eligible jury in this country. That's 
 
 a subject on which everybody has a decided opinion. 
 Muggins. Imagine, then, that you were unbiased lunatics, and let me 
 put the case to you. Withers says, that woman is much inferior to 
 man, and naturally wicked, fickle and malicious : he puts them on a 
 level with trained horses or monkeys, and says it's necessary to use a 
 strong will or whip to make them toe K^ the mark ; and further, that 
 they'll like you all the better for doing so. 
 
 Habvey. Mr. Withers seems to forget that his mother was a woman ! 
 
 Withers {sarcaMically). Indeed ! It's very kind of you to remind 
 him of that fact ! 
 
 Harvey. The reminder may induce him to speak more respectfully of 
 the sex. 
 
 Withers. Ha ! ha ! So, you set yourself up as their champion, do 
 you ? I'll wager a half dozen of champagne that, before three months 
 are over, you'll denounce them with all the vigor that gall and dis- 
 appointment can lend. 
 
 Harvey. What do you mean ? 
 
 Withers. I'll tell you. {To Charley and Mugyins.) I'll bet you two 
 another half dozen, that I'll convince him before you can walk up to 
 the house and return. 
 
 Muggins. It's a bet! 
 
 Charley. Done ! 
 
 Muggins. I suppose you've got some secret process — some hanky- 
 panky way 
 
 Charley [draggincj off Muggins). Never mind the way ; let's win our 
 bet. Here goes. 
 
 {Charley and Muggins put themselves into pedestrian attitude and 
 walk off stage, R., luith tremendous long strides. 
 
 Nellie {at door of arbor). Can't we steal awayf Oh ! if they should 
 discover us ! 
 
 Ruth (to Nellie). I wonder what he's going to say I 
 
 Withers {coolly). Now, my young dry-goods friend, we're alone ; 
 and I'll tell you what I mean. You have at various times given me 
 some sharp digs ; and I'm well aware that you don't admire my 
 character and person any too well. But that's quite natural ; I 
 wouldn't either if I were in your place. 
 
 Harvey {warmly). Again I ask, what do you mean ? 
 
 Withers. Don't get excited. You've got a nervous temperament, 
 and excitement's bad for the nerves. 
 
 Harvey. Never rniml my nerves ! 
 
 Withers. Then, to business ! You love Nellie Rushton — so do I. 
 Fortunately, she's taken a fancy to me ; I've got the inside track. 
 
ACT II. 25 
 
 and mean to have her; so you can return to your yard-stick, and 
 moralize, or, what is more probable, damn the whole sex ; then, you 
 see, our views will pretty nearly harmonize. 
 
 Harvey. Your assurance is an excellent counterpart to your hypo- 
 crisy. 
 
 Withers. Yes : assurance is an excellent qualification. 
 
 Harvey (warmlt/). I cannot disguise my coutempt for a man who ex- 
 presses your principles. 
 
 Withers. I wouldn't do it, then. 
 
 Harvey. The instincts of a gentleman seem elements foreign to your 
 nature. 
 
 Withers. Fortunately, the opinions of a little couuter-hopper are of 
 little consequence to the future movements of tlie universe. 
 
 Harvey {passionately). You profess to love Miss Rushton, yet place 
 woman on a level vv^ith animals ! You love ! Yes, the love of a 
 jackal^for a stray lamb ; the love of a hawk for a dove. You love! 
 Why, you don't know the meaning of the word ! 
 
 Withers. Ha ! ha ! How romantic ! Was that little comparison in 
 the last novel you read ? Your love is something superior, I sup- 
 pose, eh ? What wouldn't you do for it ? 
 
 Harvey. If I had the right, I'd thrash any coarse rascal who dared 
 speak as you have done, and then couple his name and love with 
 that of a pure, innocent girl* 
 
 Withers {mockingly). You'd do a great deal for Nellie, wouldn't you? 
 
 Harvey. I'll do ten times what you dare. Do any thing, and I'll 
 outdo you ! 
 
 Withers. Ha ! ha ! the plot thickens ! See here, my young friend, 
 this thing's gone far enough. I wanted a plain talk with you, for 
 your own good, and we've had it. The best thing you can do is, go 
 West. I mean to have this girl, and when I make up my mind, it's 
 good as done. You can't fool me with your high-toned professions. 
 In the language of the buffer, " it's too thin." Human nature is 
 weak, and the love of self strong ! I don't blame you ; but, unfor- 
 tunately for your little game, I'm ahead of you. 
 
 Harvey. What do you mean by my little game ? 
 
 Withers. You're poor, and ambitious ; Nellie will inherit a large 
 fortune, and it's natural that you should go for it — it's a nice fat bait. 
 It's not the money you want — oh ! goodness, no ! 
 
 Hoxey and Smitliers enter. 
 
 Harvey. Miserable dog ! 
 
 {Harvey seizes Withers by the neck and they siruggle. 
 Withers. Let go ! I'll maim you ! 
 
26 
 
 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 HoxEY. Stop ! Stop ! The Philistiues are loose ! Verily, the world's 
 
 coming to an end ! 
 {Charley and Muggins rush in, R. , and with aid of Hoxey and Smithers, 
 
 tear them apart. lite girls peer out of arbor in great fear. Tableau. 
 
 Quick curtain. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — Interior of bed-room at the villa. {No change.) Time, mght. 
 Lamp bvrning on table. Prudence discovered dusting and arranging 
 furniture. Pat on 7j?s knees, l., fanning fire in grate. Both are 
 singing in a disconnected manner as tj^ey ivork. 
 
 Pat. And the rich man, hegorra, 
 
 Does just as he plaises ; 
 •. But the poor devil, och worra ! 
 
 Must work like blue blazes. 
 
 Prudence. T wish I were a fly, 
 
 A tiny little thing, 
 I'd kiss the maidens shy, 
 
 And then in haste take wing ; 
 I'd light upon their noses 
 
 And watch their smiling gleams, 
 As they, in graceful poses, 
 
 Strayed through the land t)f dreams. 
 
 Pat {listening to Prudence). Will ye's hear that gal wishing she was 
 a fly ! Bedad, I wish she was; and I a sphider, — wouldn't I be aftlier 
 going for her ! I'd ashk her to sthep into my parlor, and I'd sing 
 that er beautiful American ballad, " Shoo fly, I got you now." 
 
 Prudence. I say, Pat. 
 
 Pat {bio n'ing fire). What's it ? 
 
 Prudencr. Are you mad ? 
 
 Pat (indignantly). Am I what ? 
 
 Prudence. Are you mad ? 
 
Pat. Do ye's take me for a walking lunatic asylum ? 
 
 Prudence. O dear, no ! Don't be so excitable. 
 
 Pat. I'm not excitable ! 
 
 Prudence. You are ! 
 
 Pat. Pm not! 
 
 Prudence. You are ! you are ! you know you are ! 
 
 Pat. Pm not ! Pm not ! The divil fly away wid you for a contrary 
 piece of baggage. 
 
 Prudence. There you go : now you're mad again. 
 
 Pat. The saints preserve me! The Holy St. Peter himself would 
 lose his head wid you. 
 
 Prudence. Ah, well ! I'm sorry for it. Let's make up : here — 
 
 {She holds out her cheek temptingh/. 
 
 Pat {hesitating). Ye wicked divil ! ye're leading me into temptation 
 ye're taking advantage of my weakness. Ah ! ye have such winning 
 ways. 
 
 {He puts his arms around Prudence and Msses her. Hoxey enters 
 door R., and is struck with amazement. 
 
 Hoxey. What are you doing there ? {She xmts her hand to her eye. 
 
 Prudence. Oh ! 
 'Pat {winking at Hoxey). Sure she's got a spheck of dust in her eye. 
 
 Hoxey. The heathen's winking at me. Sodom and Gomorrah ! You 
 can't blow the dust into my eyes, sir. You have sold yourselves 
 to the devil. 
 
 Prudence {terrified). Oh! oh, dear! 
 
 Pat. The blissed saints preserve us ! 
 
 Hoxey. He has put sugar on your lips to ensnare your souls. 
 
 {Pat smacks his lips inquiringly. 
 
 Prudence {indignantly). He hasn't done anything of the kind. 
 
 Hoxey {to Pat). Young man, do you know where you are going ? 
 
 Pat. Yes, sir. I'm going to build a fire in the library, this blissed 
 minute. (Exit, l. 
 
 Hoxey {shouting after him). No, sir : you are going where there is a 
 fire already prepared ; and you, young woman, have you no shame? 
 Don't you know you have been committing a grievous sin ? 
 
 Prudence. I don't care; everybody does it. {She exits disdainfully. 
 
 Hoxey. Well ! well ! The depravity of the human race is a heart- 
 rending spectacle ! Yet, there's no excuse for it. We have churches, 
 Sunday-schools, missions, and tract societies everywhere ; but these 
 people will not listen ; will not be guided by their benign Christian 
 influences. They are born evil ; they have evil in them, and their 
 works are evil. With all the shining examples of piety before 
 them, they preifer the ways of sin. Yea, verily, the sword o 
 
28 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY 
 
 righteousness shall smite and gather them into the pits of perdition. 
 
 {Exit, R. 
 Be-enter Prudence^ folloired by Maria. 
 
 Maria {looking around sourly). What on earth are the girls doing 
 in this room f 
 
 Prudence. The ceiling fell down in Miss Nellie's room, so Mr. Char- 
 ley insisted on them taking this, while Mr. Chester and himself move 
 to ^,he upper floor. 
 
 Enter Nellie and Ruth, r. 
 
 Nellie. Is the room ready, Prudence ? 
 
 Prudence. Yes, mum. 
 
 Nellie. Why, aunty, I didn't see you ! Are you inspecting our new 
 room ? 
 
 Maria {seating herself, c, by table). No, dear ; I want to have a little 
 conversation with you. (Nellie takes seat by fire, L. 
 
 Nellie. I'm listening, aunt. 
 
 Ruth {aside to Nellie). It's a sermon. I wonder what the text will be. 
 
 Maria {noticing Ruth). Ruth, my child, won't you please run up to 
 my room and find my smelling-bottle ? , 
 
 Ruth {aside). Boo ! She wants to get rid of me. 
 
 {Ruth exits angrily, r. 
 
 Nellie. Now, aunty, what is it ? 
 
 Maria. Nellie, my child, this is a very wicked world. 
 
 Nellie {sighing). Yes. {Aside.) A good beginning. 
 
 Maria. As our time here is so very short, we should prepare for 
 something better. 
 
 Nellie {aside). Very interesting ! 
 
 Maria. Your father, in spite of all my warnings, holds very loose no- 
 tions of his parental duties ; therefore, it can hardly be expected 
 that you should know the heavy responsibility that rests on every 
 human being, and the awful fate that awaits those who will persist 
 in their ways of pride and sin. 
 
 Nellie. He ought to emulate Mr. Hoxey, I suppose. 
 
 Maria. Mr. Hoxey is an exemplary, good man. 
 
 Nellie. I don't see where " the goodness" comes in ; he makes every 
 one feel uncomfortable when he's around — even the dogs shrink from 
 him. I suppose, however, this is the result of his holiness. 
 
 Maria. child ! you don't know what you're talking about ! But we 
 won't argue the matter ; you're too young and ignorant yet. I've 
 come to speak to you on another subject — of one who will be a 
 Moses to you and lead you from the wilderness of iniquity. 
 
 Nellie. Mr. Smithers again ! • 
 
Acr III. 29 
 
 Maria. You should be proud of the attentions of such a man ! Think 
 what it is to be a minister's wife ; to be surrounded by a perpetual 
 churchly atmosphere ; to sit in the front pew, ahead of everybody 
 else, and listen to his pleadings for poor sinners ; and how everybody 
 will envy you as you come in and sweep up the broad aisle to your 
 pew ! Oh, Nellie ! if I were ouly younger ! 
 
 Biith runs in, R., ivith her arms full of toilet trappings, face powder, 
 rouge, false curls, a large bottle, etc. etc. 
 
 Ruth (maliciously). I couldn't find the salts, so I brought these 
 things — it may be among them. 
 
 Maria {screaming). You miserable little wretch ! (She grabs the 
 bottle and other trappings quickly, and rushes out, r. , in great anger. 
 
 Nellie. Bravo, Ruth, you've saved me from being bored to death ! 
 
 Ruth. Ha ! ha ! I was bound to have my revenge. The sight of the 
 bottle made her nervous ; it's marked cordial, but it almost burnt my 
 tongue. By the way, what was her text ? 
 
 Nellie. Smithers ! 
 
 Ruth. Horrors ! I don't see why people can't mind their own busi- 
 ness. Here they're torinenting the very life out of us, and all for our 
 good, as they try to make themselves believe. The stupid poke- 
 your-noses ! I think if they'd only turn their wits to work at recon- 
 structing themselves, they'd have plenty of occupation for the rest of 
 their natural lives. 
 
 Charley looks in at door, r. 
 
 Charley. May I come in ? 
 
 Nellie. Yes, if you promise to behave. 
 
 Charley. I'll try. 
 
 Ruth. It's very kind of you to give us your I'oom ; I'm sure we're 
 much obliged to both you and Mr. Chester. 
 
 Charley. Don't mention it. Harvey knows nothing about it as yet, 
 but he'd have done the same if he'd been here. 
 
 Nellie. Why, where is he? 
 
 Charley. He's gone over to the village to make arrangements for 
 the removal of his baggage to-morrow. 
 
 Nellie. To move his baggage ? 
 
 Charley. Yes — all through that unfortunate quarrel this afternoon ! 
 He thinks he's forfeited the hospitalities of this house, or that his 
 pre.sence may be offensive. (To Ruth.) Your father told him that if 
 it were his house, he'd kick him out. Besides this,, he expects to get 
 a severe raking from Uncle Rushton, when he returns. 
 
 Nellie. I'm going to speak to father ; he shan't scold him. " 
 
30 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Ruth. Father always gets the wrong one by the ears. It all comes 
 
 from being too pious. Why didn't he kick out Withers ; he was — 
 
 {Nellie makes sign of warning) he was bigger anyway. 
 Charley. He takes Withers' part, and says he acted with great 
 
 Christian forbearance ; he even says it's a pity Withers didn't thrash 
 
 some of the evil out of him. 
 Ruth. It's a shame ! 
 Nellie. Can't you persuade him to remain ? Do try — to please me — 
 
 won't you ? 
 Charley (hesitating j. I think, Nellie, if you were to ask him, it 
 
 would have a hundred times more weight. {Nellie turns away.) 
 
 I don't know how this quarrel came about, but, I'd bet my head, it's. 
 
 not all his fault, as they would have us believe. Why, he's the most 
 
 inoffensive fellow in the world. I hope you won't think hard of him, 
 
 for he thinks a great deal of you. 
 Nellie (feigning surprise). Indeed ! Why do you think so f 
 Charley. I don't think so, I know so. 
 Nellie {laughingly pushing Mm towards the door). There, be off with 
 
 you, you vagabond ; there's no believing you. 
 Charley. But, I say^ 
 
 Nellie. You're always saying. Ruth, put him out. 
 Charley. But, Nellie, listen — 
 
 Ruth. Here— march ! {Pushes him towards the door. 
 
 Charley. I'm in earnest. 
 Ruth. So am I. {Leads him to door by the ear, and pushes him out.) 
 
 There's never any trouble but there's a man at the bottom of it. 
 Charley {looking in at door). I was just going to say — 
 Ruth. Get out! {Ruth takes off her slipper, and as Charley pops his 
 
 head in a second time site fires it at him. 
 Charley {p)icking up slipjper). I'm going to give this to Muggins. 
 Ruth {running to door). Here — Charley ! Please give it to me. 
 Charley. Young ladies who fire slippers at gentlemen must take the 
 
 consequences. There's only one thing that will redeem this. 
 Ruth. What's that ? 
 Charley. A kiss. 
 Ruth. I think you're real mean ! 
 Charley. Then here goes. 
 Ruth. No ! no ! Ah ! won't you give it to me ? 
 Charley (holding out his cheek). C — — D. 
 Ruth. What's cod ? 
 Charley. Collect on delivery. 
 Ruth. Well, if it must. {Kisses him and snatches slippers.) Get out, 
 
 you mean thing ! 
 
ACT III. 31 
 
 Nellie. By tlie way, Charley, you raustu't retire until Mr. Chester 
 returns. 
 
 Charley. Certainly, not ; or you'd find him banging at your door. 
 Good- night. 
 
 Nellie. Good-night. 
 
 Charley. I said "good-night," Mrs. George Washington 'Muggins. 
 
 Ruth {turning her hack to him). Don't speak to me ! 
 
 {Charley exits, r. Nellie locks door after him, then seats herself in 
 
 front of fire, l. 
 
 Nellie. No one knows that we were hidden in the arbor. 
 
 Ruth. No ; our secret's safe. 
 
 Nellie. And what have we not learned ! 
 
 Ruth. Ah, yes ! 
 
 Nellie. Poor Harvey ! If we had not witnessed the affair, we too, 
 like the rest, might condemn him. 
 
 Ruth. And that brazen hypocrite, Withers, makes them believe he's 
 an innocent injured lamb. Oh ! the villain ! He calls me a pole. Do 
 I look like a pole ? 
 
 {She jumps tip and surveys herself in the mirror. Nellie sits at fire, 
 
 meditating. 
 
 Nellie. Certainly not. 
 
 Ruth. I'd like to throw some red pepper in his eyes. What's the 
 matter, Nellie ? You look quite blue. A penny for your thoughts ! 
 
 Nellie A little experience has made me sober, that's all. Go to bed, 
 Ruth ; I'll ftdlow directly. 
 
 Ruth. You want to be alone, don't you ? You want to think of some- 
 body — I know ! Well, I'll leave you to your lonely misery; I'll give 
 you just one hundred and twenty seconds. {Retires behind screen). 
 
 tiELfLiE' [tneditating). Where \f, my ideal of a man now? Ah ! how ap- 
 pearances deceive ! He seemed so strong, so bold and confident, so 
 noble. I see now, what I took for manliness was but the assurance of 
 a co(d adventurer, who has everything to gain and nothing to lose. 
 And I might have given myself to him ! What an escape ! There's 
 no affection in that cold, selfish heart ; his indifference and coldness 
 would have killed me. No ! no ! the man to whom I give myself 
 must love me very much ; he must be kind, patient and forbearing ; 
 a cold, repelling word would chill me to the soul. Poor Harvey. 
 I scarcely thought of him ; he's so quiet and reserved ; yet the old 
 motto, " Still waters run deep.". He loves me indeed. Nature be- 
 trayed itself in his anger; there's no hypocrisy there ! He's brave as 
 a lion, too. Ah! if he could only read my thoughts, now! 
 {Buth comes from behind screen in her night-gon-n, steals up to Nellie 
 and throivs her arms around her. Nellie screams. 
 
32 
 
 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Ruth. Ha ! ha ! How frightened you are ! Who did you think it 
 was ? 
 
 Nellir. You, of course. 
 
 liUTH. you story-teller ! You thought it was somebody else — Mr. 
 Withers perhaps ? 
 
 Nellie. I hate that man. 
 
 Ruth. Chester, then. You see I've guessed it; but he's so awful 
 bashful ; he trembles when you touch him ; he doesn't know how to 
 make love. 
 
 Nellie. Do you 1 
 
 Ruth. Do I ? I guess I do ! Imagine you were my sweetheart, and 
 I was coming to pop the question. {She sweeps around to \j. front., 
 then advances to Nellie very formally.) Miss Rushton — ahem ! From 
 the moment I first saw you, I was smitten with an absorbing and 
 diabolical love ; no meat, no drink, has passed these lips since that 
 destiny-shaped hour. 
 
 Nellie. How long ago was that ? 
 
 Ruth. Don't interrupt me. Your love is the sun, moon, and stars of 
 my existence ; therefore, if you deny me its celestial light, I'll give 
 myself up to despair, and break my neck in the universal darkness 
 that will follow. {Kneels to Nellie.) You wouldn't see me break my 
 neck in the dark, would you f Then, be mine ! {She throws her arms 
 around Nellie and hugs her. 
 
 Nellie. Ha ! ha ! I'm afraid no one could resist such an assault ; but 
 where did you learn all this ? 
 
 Ruth. Never you miud ; I know a few more things which might 
 astonish you. 
 
 Nellie. I shouldn't be surprised, you naughty girl ! Come — let's to 
 bed ; it's late, ( O-fJ^T IWKvw^ Xcf^JtV^ > 
 
 Ruth. I'm i-eady. (c.) I wonder how George will go about it when he 
 pops the question '? He's been popping all over for some time, but 
 it hasn't come to a head yet. Withers told him to take me by storm. 
 I'd like to see him — I'll storm him ! 
 
 Ruth goes back, puts chair by bed and kneels. She lets down her hair 
 with one hand, and, in an absent minded manner utters., in a hum- 
 drum vmy : — No^d 1 lay me doivn to sleep; te-tum, ie-tum, te-tnm te- 
 tie. Her thoughts seems anywhere but in her prayers ; suddenly a 
 new idea strikes her ; she begins to count on her fingers and seems 
 deciphering something. 
 
 Ruth. Nellie ? 
 
 Nellik {behind screen). What is it f 
 
 Ruth. Can you say the Lord's prayer backwards ? 
 
 Nellie. That's very wicked ! 
 
ACT III. 33 
 
 RuTiT. Why, they're the same words ? 
 
 Nellik [coming out in her night-gown). But the right spirit is lacking. 
 
 Ruth. Do you believe in spirits? O dear, I'm afraid of them ! Did 
 you ever see a ghost ? 
 
 Nellie. Be quiet, you foolish girl. 
 
 [Nellie puts out light on table ; they both retire behind the curtain of 
 the bed. The fire on the hearth throws a soft, mellow light over the 
 front of the stage ; the bed at back is in the shade. After a few soft 
 measures by the orchestra, the ivindow is pushed open at back, and 
 Harvey scrambles in, Ms coat buttoned to his chin. He advances 
 front, rubbing his hands as if chilly. 
 
 Harvey. Confound that Charley ! He crawls quietly to bed, leaves 
 the doors double-locked, and no one up to let me in. If I hadn't 
 risked my neck on that lightning-rod, I'd have been obliged to fall 
 back on the stable, or thump at the door till the whole house was in 
 an uproar ; that would have been another excellent string for that old 
 bigot to harp on. Halloa! a fire! (Goes to hearth, rubbing his 
 hands.) Charley, old boy, that's the most sensible thing you've done 
 in an age ; I'm almost inclined to forgive you for the trouble you put 
 me to. [Takes off coat and boots, and settles himself on a sofa, front 
 of fire.) This is what I call comfort. Ah! if my heart were only 
 silent ! [He fumbles in his coat-pocket and takes out a pipe.) Come 
 forth, thou poor devil's consoler ; thou canst perhaps help me to for- 
 get myself for a while. [He lights pipe, smokes, and looks pensively 
 into the fire, meditating.) How much happiness is possible in this 
 world, and yet how little we obtain ! If I only had a sweet, aftection- 
 ate, true-hearted little wife like Nellie, what a paradise earth would 
 be! I'd go to the store, work with a will, and when night drew near, 
 I'd start for home, knowing that some one would be anxiously await- 
 ing me; then a hug and kiss behind the door, and all the cares and 
 vexations of the whole day would be forgotten. [Puffs.) Then we'd 
 sit down to dinner at a snowy little table, all to ourselves, and she'd 
 float around like a tidy little angel, pouring out my coffee — telling 
 me not to burn my tongue. Then we'd chat and chat, and the sight 
 of her would be the finest appetizer in the world. After supper, we'd 
 go into our little sitting-room, before a fire like this, and she'd sit in 
 my lap, with her arms around my neck, playfully pulling my wool, or 
 looking in my eyes, asking all sorts of little questions, [puffing), 
 and getting all sorts of little answers. Then I'd surround the 
 room with beautiful objects and pictures, which would awaken trains 
 of beautiful thought; and we'd talk and talk, until the little silvery 
 stroke of the cluck would hint that it was time to retire, then 
 we'd thunder! [He .starts violently from chair, stick'^ one 
 
34 HOXF.Y AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 hand in his pocket, walks up and down front excitedly, pulling 
 furiously at his 2npe, and talking hurriedly.) A beautiful, tender, 
 refined vsdfe, nice home, pictures, objects of art, at a salary of fifteen 
 dollars per week! (Passionately.) There's a screw loose in the 
 universe, somewhere! Fate deals most unjustly! To the rich, 
 she gives the treasures and pleasures of the earth ; to the poor, 
 scarce enough to keep body and soul together. To the rich, power, 
 leisure, opportunity for study and culture — every thing; to the 
 poor, incessant labor, humiliations, yearnings which can never be sa- 
 tisfied — the sting of the overbearing. When I see the many gilded 
 palaces, swarming with beautiful objects, beautiful women, refine- 
 ments, luxuries, and contrast them Avith the barren possessions of 
 poverty, I feel as though I were ripe for any desperate deed, or, in. 
 my bitterness of heart, could lead a communistic rabble into the very 
 jaws of death, and grasp — grasp — grasp what ? Pshaw, I talk like a 
 fool! The mass of mankind must be toilers; must form the lower 
 foundations upon which the social fabric is built; and why should Jhe 
 more favored than millions of my fellow men? Rather, be thankful 
 that thou art what thou art ; envy not those Avho are where thou 
 wouldst like to be, and pity and help those who are still beneath thee. 
 Nature is a strange school; but I hope she will bring us out all right. 
 [Walks up and down, pnifing clouds of smoke. Ruth coughs.) What 
 a delicate cough that boy's got ! Well, I must get to bed, and to- 
 morrow {sadly) — to-morrow ! — ah ! yes. So ends the brightest dream 
 that has e'er made sport with my simple heart ; and I return again to 
 the city — to a future hopeless and monotonous — a mixture of cloth, 
 calicoes, boarding-house, blues, and hash. I must leave my good- 
 inspiring angel here — leave her an easy prey to that rascal Withers. 
 Oh ! I'd gladly give my life for her : but that wouldn't be giving 
 much — fifteen dollars a week. If I only dared speak to her. Pshaw ! 
 't would be useless ! They're all against me. And who am I ? A 
 high private in the grand army of nobodies. Well, such is life ! I 
 can at least carry her image in my heart. {Looks around.) Halloa, 
 where is my trunk ? I hope old brimstone hasn't visited the sins of 
 the owner on his baggage and kicked it out already ! Yes — it's gone 
 And that old dry- bones calls himself a Christian! O words, words, 
 how are ye abused ! Some one must reconstruct the Dictionary. AVell, 
 it's no use fretting ; I might as well get what rest I can. ( Goes back- 
 to bed and lifts side of curtain.) There he is, as usual, covering the 
 whole bed like a spread eagle. He wants to be kicked over on his 
 own side half a dozen times per night. Ah ! if, instead of that boosy 
 head, that was only my wife — confound it, I'm oft" again. Here, 
 Charley ! Charley, get over, get on your own side. 
 
ACT III. 35 
 
 {He punches the sleeping form; both girls awake and scream loudly. 
 Harvfa' [dumbfounded). Heavens and earth ! what's this ? 
 
 [Their screams grow louder; Harvey runs around bewildered; the 
 voices of Hoxey and others are heard outside; they attempt to force the 
 door; Harvey runs to inndow and jumps out, just as the door is burst 
 open, and the whole establish ment enter in varioxs hastily-robed cnndi- 
 tiuns. Nellie faints in her father'' s arms and Buth drops into Muggins'. 
 Tableau. Quick curtain.) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE. — Parlor at the villa, same as in Act I. [No change.) 
 Enter Charley and Muggins, r., laughing. 
 
 Charley. It's the best joke of the season ! If I hadn't stole out with 
 his coat, boots and hat, the cat woukl have been out of the bag. 
 
 Muggins. And even the girls think it was a burglar. 
 
 Charley. Yes ; I could scarcely keep from exploding when I heard 
 them describing the villain. 
 
 Muggins (c). And the beautiful and appropriate remarks of Deacon 
 Hoxey on burglars, and the depravity of mankind in general. Ah ! 
 no wonder poor Mrs. Hoxey's an invalid ! That man's piety would 
 kill a rhinoceros. By the way, I've got her consent to marry. 
 
 Charley. Whose, the rhinoceros' ? 
 
 Muggins. Rhinoceros be hanged ! Mrs. Hoxey's. 
 
 Charley. Ah ! that's good. 
 
 Muggins. She believes in me. As for the old bear, I'ln going to tackle 
 him to-day, but it's an awful pill. 
 
 Buth enters, c. d., apparently reading. 
 
 Charley. Well, I wish you luck; but look out for the sword of 
 
 righteousness [Exit, R. 
 
 Buth advances down o. to front, reading. 
 
 Muggins [aside). Ah, there she is ! Nov/ I'll try Withers' plan — I'll 
 be bold with her. [Aloud.) Ruth, I want to speak to you. 
 
 Ruth [aside, c). He's going to take me by storm ! 
 
 Muggins. Come here. 
 
 [He takes her hand, drags her to sofa, l. v., and forces her to sit; 
 then sits himself beside her, and puts his arm around her. He tries 
 to appear hold through the f-regoing < ction, yet his fear and uncertainty 
 betray themselves, and make his action ludicrous. 
 
36 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Ruth {springs up in great ivrath). See here, sir ! What do you mean 
 by taking guch liberties ? {Muggins retreats in fear across to R., 
 folio ired by Ruth in a threatening manner.) You good-for-nothing 
 scamp ! where did you learn such manners ? I took you for a gentle- 
 man, but I find I was awfully mistaken — you wretch ! {Cries. 
 
 Muggins (r., aside). Great heavens ! I must have left something out ! 
 
 Ruth. What do you mean by insulting me '? I'll go and tell my father. 
 {Aside, quietly.) That'll settle him. 
 
 {She feigns crying , and goes to sofa, R. 
 
 Muggins. Confound that Withers ! I knew it wouldn't work. This 
 is taking her by storm with a vengeance ! What shall I do ? {Ap- 
 proaches her cautiously.) Ruth, Ruth, don't be angry. 
 
 Ruth. Go away, I don't want to see you again ! Boo-hoo! {Cries. 
 
 Muggins {aside). The devil take that Withers ! Ruth, I'm awful 
 sorry — I'm in sackcloth and ashes, like David, when — 
 
 Ruth {fiercely). Don't you dare to preach to me, you wretch! I get 
 enough of that at home. 
 
 Muggins (asi(?e). Doue it again : just my luck ! {Aloud.) Ruth! 
 it wasn't my fault at all ; this all comes from listening to bad advice; 
 it's all Withers ; he said I should raise a storm, and I've raised a 
 hurricane, a floods and the devil knows what else ! Only forgive me 
 this time. I'll never do so agaiu. 
 
 {He sits himself beside her, pleadingly; Rtith still crying. 
 
 Ruth. Never ? 
 
 Muggins. Nevermore. 
 
 Rlth. And you won't have any thing to do with Withers ? 
 
 Muggins. Never; he's a promulgator of false doctrines. 
 
 Ruth {looking up). You'll never attempt to take me by storm again ? 
 
 Muggins. Not if I know myself. 
 
 Ruth. Well, then, you're forgiven. 
 
 {She lays her head on his shoulder, and puts her arms around his 
 neck lovingly. 
 
 Muggins {aside, in ecstasy). Hurrah ! Here's a living contradiction to 
 the storm theory ; it's gentleness that does it. Yet who would have 
 thought that this little piece of femininity could raise a first-class hur- 
 ricane at a second's notice ! Perhaps I'm holding a couple of hun- 
 dred young, undeveloped hurricanes in my arms this minute ! 
 
 Ruth. George, dear, what are you thinking about ? 
 
 Muggins. I'm thinking, dearie, what father J(jseph would say, if he 
 should see us now. 
 
 Ruth {springing up). Oh ! I almost forgot. {Looks around uneasily.) 
 It's too bad that we can't have a moment's peace. 
 
 Muggins. It's bad ; but, as St. Jeremias says, " everv rose has its 
 
ACT IV. 37 
 
 thorn." Ruth, I'm going to speak to your father this very day — this 
 very hour ; and if he says yes — 
 
 Ruth. But if he says no ? 
 
 MuaoiNS. No ? If he says no, by George, there will be an earth- 
 quake ! Come along, I'm going to look for him now. 
 
 Ruth. You go first; I'm all in a tremble. 
 
 Muggins. So am I ; but somebody's got to do it. (Exit both, R. 
 
 Enter Bushton, led by Nellie, through c. d. 
 
 Nellie. Come, pa, sit here ; I want to talk with you. 
 
 {She pulls him c, they sit on sofa. 
 
 RusHTON. Now, my darling, what is this very important matter? Has 
 the bulldog been worrying some of your pets again ? 
 
 Nellie {hesitating). No, father. I want to speak to you of that young 
 man. 
 
 RuSHTON. A young man ! Zounds ! Some young rascal has been 
 throwing stones at them, or stolen — 
 
 Nellie. No, no, father ; it's about Charley's — 
 
 RuSHTON. What has Charley been doing again ? 
 
 Nellie. Not Charley — his friend, Mr. Chester — 
 
 RuSHTON. Another rascal ! To come into my house, insult my guests, 
 and create a disturbance. 
 
 Nellie. father! you don't know — 
 
 RuSHTON. To fight like cats and dogs. A fine return for my hos- 
 pitality ! 
 
 Nellie {pleadingly). Father, you don't understand — ■ 
 
 RusHTON. No one can understand such contemptible doings. 
 
 Nellie. You misjudge him, father. 
 
 RusHTON. Is the rascal still in the house ? 
 
 Nellie. Please don't call him a rascal— he's not a rascal at all. If you 
 only knew him ! He's very good and very brave, but he's so quiet, 
 you can't see it. 
 
 RusHTON. But I've seen too much ; he's an ugly fellow. 
 
 Nellie {half crying). He's not an ugly fellow. Can't you see that he's 
 not ugly ; it was not his fault. 
 
 RusHTON. If it was not his fault, whose fault was it ? He's said no- 
 thing to excuse himself, therefore I must believe him guilty. 
 
 Nellie. It was Mr. Withers' fault. Oh ! he's a very mean man; put 
 him out. 
 
 KUSHTON. Impossible ! Mr. Hoxey and the rest exonerate him of all 
 blame; so, young Chester must go. 
 
 Nellie. Do believe me, father, those mean people are all misrepre- 
 senting him ; I know he is innocent : please make him remain. 
 
38 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 RuSHTON. Impossible, my darling — impossible I {Nellie exits, R., cry- 
 ing.) Ah! you dear little sly puss ! you wouldn't divulge your secret j 
 well, we must wait the upshot of this little drama, and, in the mean 
 time, your poor little heart must ache a little. 
 
 Enter Hoxey, Smitliers and Withers, c. d. 
 
 HoxEY. Rusht(m, here's the Rev. Smithers come to congratulate us on 
 
 our narrow escape from the burglar, last night. 
 RuSHTON (aside). That will be something to set the village tongues 
 
 wagging for the next six months. 
 Smithers. Yes, everybody is talking about it ; and I'm sure we're 
 
 all delighted to hear that you escaped this desperado without injury 
 
 or loss. 
 RusHTON. Thank you. I expect the unfortunate man was as much 
 
 frightened as we were. 
 Smithers. Have you no traces of the culprit ? 
 Withers. Nothing has been seen or heard of him ; we caught a 
 
 seedy looking rascal, shortly after daybreak, but he turned out to be 
 
 a reporter, who was fishing up the particulars. 
 HoxKY. It's to be regretted ; the fellow ought to have been caught 
 
 and hung. 
 Smithers. Yes, justice should be sure and swift in dealing with all 
 
 law-breakers. 
 RusHTON. Ha! ha! Why, my dear sir, what Avould become of the 
 
 great American Eagle ? You'd depopulate our glorious republic! 
 
 If justice dealt each rogue his due, we'd be obliged to fence in half 
 
 of it, and then it would be a curious speculation to see on which side 
 
 of the wall we'd find ourselves. 
 Withers {aside). The old fellow's head's level, by thunder ! 
 HoxEY. Yes, it's a sad commentary on the depravity of the times ; 
 
 and in this age of enlightenment too — with churches, missions, tract 
 
 societies, aud Christian associations everywhere ! 
 Smithers {piously). We must hope and pray that a better era will 
 
 dawn upon us. 
 RusHTON {impatiently). No! We must work for it; hoping and 
 
 praying are useless unless the disposition to work and push accompany 
 
 them ; we must practice more aud talk less ; when we do this, we 
 
 shall be making some progress worth speaking of. 
 Smithers. Very true ; as the disciple James wisely remarks, ' * We 
 
 must be doers as well as hearers and talkers." 
 RusHTON {aside). Confound the disciple ! He quotes like an encyclo- 
 pedia, but doesn't practice worth a copper. 
 
ACT IV. 39 
 
 Harvey enters^ c. d.; lie puts down .'small satchel and advances front, F. c. 
 The characters on stage regard him with curiosity. Nellie enters, c. d., 
 and remains near door, observing the leave-taking. 
 
 Harvey {to Bushton, with dignity and feeling). Mr. Rushton, I'm 
 about to leave you ; but, before doing so, I desire not only to thank 
 you for your kind hospitality, but to express my regrets for the un- 
 pleasant affair in which probably I was the principal culprit. No 
 one can regret more deeply than myself the unfortunate occurrence, 
 and I humbly offer you my apologies. 
 
 Nellie watches her father earnestly and seems much hurt at his replies. ■ 
 
 EuSHTON. Young man, I suppose I must accept your apology for what 
 it's worth. I am very sorry that you should have chosen my house 
 for your pugilistic exploits. 
 
 Harvey {bitterly). The indiscretion has been severely avenged. Good- 
 by, sir. 
 
 RusHTON {ivithout looking at him). Good-by. 
 
 Nellie {at back, aside). Not one even proffers a hand ! 
 
 HoXEY {coldly). Young man, let this be a warning to you ; you're ou 
 the road that leads to the broad and yawning gulf; repent ere it be 
 too late, or perish in your stubbornness. I tell you, you'll come to a 
 bad end ! 
 
 Smithers. Yes, young man, we should profit by the teachings of ex- 
 perience ; you're wilfully shutting your eyes to the sublime trutli, and 
 giving yourself to the Prince of Darkness. Repent ere it be too late. 
 
 Withers {aside). What a comforting send-off for the poor devil. {Alotid 
 to Harvey, ivith feigned contrition.) I trust we do not part in anger f 
 I sincerely regret this unfortunate occurrence ! 
 
 Harvey {coldly). I thank you, gentlemen, for your very kind and, 
 under the circumstances, exhilarating remarks ; they grace the pecu- 
 liar qualities of Christian charity Avhich you so beautifully represent. 
 I have the pleasure of bidding you good-by. 
 
 {As he turns to go tlirough c. d., he sees Nellie, who is holding out her 
 hand to him. He is greatly moved, but, seeing himself observed, he 
 grasps it, regards her earnestly a moment, and exits quickly, c. d. 
 
 RusiiTON {aside). There's no doubt about it ; the girl loves him ! {Exit, 
 R. Nellie remains back, looking after Harvey; Withers approaches and 
 addresses her; she shrinks from him, comes front, to sofa, takes book 
 and reads; Withers takes book and seats himself by her. Hoxey, v., 
 Smithers, L. Muggins enters, R. 
 
 Muggins {aside). Now is the winter of our great uneasiness — and there 
 sits the unconcerned cause of it all ! If I only knew what he'd say ! 
 
40 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 To think that all my happiness depends on that pickled old duffer! 
 
 Well, here goes. {He advances front. 
 
 HoxEY [seeing Muggins). Well, young man, how's your leg ? 
 Muggins (limping). It's rather painful ; but, as St. Paul says, " what 
 
 can't be cured must be endured." 
 HoxEY {Iwrrijied). What on earth are you saying ? Saint Paul never 
 
 said that ! 
 Smithers. The young man has evidently made a mistake. 
 Muggins (aside). Hang it! Withers will be the death of me; this 
 
 comes from " mildly quoting Scripture." 
 HoxEY. I'm afraid you don't know your Testament very well. 
 Muggins. yes, I do ! The pain's gone into my head, and mixed 
 
 things a little ; that's all. By the way, Mr. Hoxey, won't you please 
 
 come into the garden a moment, I — I want to speak with you. 
 HoxEY. If you want to speak with me, speak out. 
 Muggins. But it's something very confidential. 
 Smithers {aside to Hoxey). Go with him, brother, I think the spirit is 
 
 moving within the young man. 
 Hoxey. Very well. (To Muggins.) Come along. 
 Muggins (aside). This is awful ! fExit Hoxey and Muggins, l. 
 
 Withers (r., aside). I wish that white-choker would take a turn in 
 
 the yard ; I roust press my suit. 
 Smithers (l., aside). There she is, absorbed in some pretty book. I 
 
 wish that young man would go out ; I really must speak to her. 
 Withers. He doesn't seem to have any idea of moving. I must get 
 
 rid of him. (Crosses to back, then comes dozen, l., looks out windoio. 
 
 To Smithers.) Beg pardon, but I think Mr. Hoxey wishes to see you. 
 
 He was motioning from the garden. 
 Smithers (aside to W.). Won't you do me the favor of telling him that 
 
 I'll join him presently ? 
 Withers. I'd gladly oblige you, but I'm subject to momentary at- 
 tacks of paralysis in the limbs ; I have one now. (Rubbing his leg.) 
 
 The pain is so excruciating that it's impossible to walk while it lasts. 
 
 (Sits on sofa as if in pain. 
 Smithers. Couldn't I assist you into the adjoining room for a few 
 
 moments ? I have a few words for Miss Rushton, and desire to speak 
 
 with her privately. 
 Withers (aside to S., laughing). No, you don't ! no, you don't, my 
 
 clerical friend ! 
 Smithers (indignant). How, sir? 
 
 (Nellie looks at the two with great contempt,and steals off, r., unobserved. 
 Withers. Leave you alone with a lady — you, a clergyman ? Why, 
 
ACT IV. 1 41 
 
 that would be exposing you to all sorts of dangers. I have too much 
 regard for you to permit the running of such risks. Halloa, she's 
 gone ! All right, sir, you're safe. (Aside.) I must follow her and 
 press the siege. (Exit, r. 
 
 Smithers. That's an exceedingly common and low-bred fellow ; I 
 don't like him. [Exit, L. 
 
 Enter 3£uggins, l., looking ivild and pale. 
 
 Muggins (c). Damn every long, lank, skinflinting, driedup, big- 
 footed, choker-wearing, pious-looking, hypocritical wretch. Damn 
 every stony-hearted, sour-crabbed, ugly-looking, big-nosed, preach- 
 ing sort of a fellow ! Oh ! the miserable product of Yankee civiliza- 
 tion, who kills the happiness of two whole lives as lightly as if they 
 were two whole mosquitoes ! I'm done for ; I've nothing more to 
 live for. 
 
 Muth enters, c. d., her face buried in her hands. 
 
 EuTH. George ! 
 Muggins. Ruth ! 
 
 ( They fall in each othefs arms andcry violently on each other'' s shoulder. 
 Ruth. It's a shame ; that's what it is. 
 Muggins. It's worse than that ! 
 Ruth. He doesn't think of anybody's happiness. 
 Muggins. He only thinks of the devil. 
 Ruth {after a pause, disengaging herself from Muggins' embrace). What 
 
 are we going to do about it ? 
 Muggins {wiping his eyes). We must hold an indignation meeting, or 
 
 start a society to reform pious fathers. 
 Ruth. Mother is willing. 
 Muggins. And I am willing. 
 Ruth. And I am willing. 
 Muggins. I have it. This is a republic — the majority rules ; we are 
 
 three to one ; let's marry in spite of him ! 
 Ruth. Yes, yes — ^but where will we go ? 
 Muggins. I'll steal one of Rushton's fast horses and a wagon, and 
 
 we'll go to Dr. Riiggles ; if he won't do it, we'll find somebody who 
 
 will. Come along. 
 
 {They take each other'' s hand and run to c. d.; they meet Hoxey on 
 
 the threshold and start back in fright. 
 
 Hoxey. What's the meaning of this ? 
 
 Muggins {quickly). It means some awful mischief ; just look in that 
 closet and you'll find it out — it's awful ! 
 
 {Points to door on r. side, at back. 
 
42 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY, 
 
 UoxEY {frightened). What is it ? What is it? Where? 
 Muggins. Just look into that closet. ( Points to door. 
 
 [Hoxey approaches the door hesitatingly, opens it and looks in. 
 
 Muggins measures the ground behind him, braces himself, and runs 
 
 against Hoxey, sending him headlong into the closet. He then locks the 
 
 door and throws key out of n-indow. 
 Ruth {screaming). Oh ! what have yon done ! 
 Muggins. Hurrah! hurrah! The devil's in limbo. {To Ruth ) If 
 
 you love me, come along. 
 
 {As they run off, c. d., Smithers enters; Muggins sends him flying over 
 
 a chair, and exits with Ruth. Quick curtain. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE. — (No change.) Reception-room at Dr. Ruggles\ ^d or ith,. 
 grove. Entrance, l.., hat-rack, chairs, etc. Door, c. [into library \ 
 
 and R. 
 
 Enter Ruggles and Rushton, r. 
 
 RuGGLKS {laughing). Well, I declare ! it was rather a strange ad- 
 venture ; why, a dramatist could scarcely have drawn his characters 
 together better. 
 
 Rushton. Yes, they all seemed to have been drawn under my very 
 nose. I was inclined to be a little mad at first, but, after a while, I 
 found it an interesting study. The girls were hid in one arbor, and, 
 like myself, obliged to hear every word that was uttered ; although, 
 they haven't the slightest suspicion that I, too, was a witness to the 
 little comedy. First, the field was occupied by one party, who vacat- 
 ed at the approach of the other, and so on, until the battle closed the 
 scene. 
 
 Ruggles. I'm glad that you have seen these people in their true 
 colors. As for the young man Chester, I share your favorable 
 opinion ; there's no doubt he's an honorable, conscientious young 
 fellow ; and as to his beliefs, why, time and conscientious search will 
 regulate them according to his understanding. 
 
 Rushton. No doubt : Nellie has a sincere love for him, and I mean to 
 give him a grand lift in the world. 
 
 Ruggles. I thinlv you will find him worthy of it. 
 
 Enter Charley, l. 
 
 Rushton. Well, Charley, did you arrange matters ? 
 
 Charley. Yes, uncle. 
 
 Rushton. How soon will he arrive ? 
 
ACT V. 43 
 
 Charley. I expect him every minute. 
 
 RusHTON. Very good ; I'll go down-stairs and see what the little 
 
 pouter's got to say. 
 RuGGLES. You'll find me in the study when you return. 
 
 {Exits Buggies into study, c. d. Rushton mid Charley exit, r. 
 
 Muggins enters in great haste, folio ired by a man and maid- servant, 
 who regard him with great fear. 
 
 Muggins. Where is he 1 where is he ? 
 
 1st Servant (aside). He looks wild ! It's a lunatic ! dear ! 
 
 Muggins {fiercely to servants, who huddle together). Where is he, I say? 
 
 2d Berv'ANT. What do you want f 
 
 Muggins. I want the parson ! Where's the parson ? 
 
 2d Servant. What do you want with the parson ? 
 
 Muggins {fiercely). What do I want with the parson ? as if a person 
 
 came to the parson for- any thing else but to be married or buried ! 
 
 You lunatic, can't you tell me where the parson is ? 
 
 Muggles enters from study with a hook in his hands ; the servants 
 run off, L. 
 
 RuGGLES. What's the trouble, young man ? 
 
 Muggins. Doctor ! I'm glad to see you ! {He grabs the book in the 
 doctor^ s hand and shakes it, mistaking it for the hand.) The trouble 
 
 is, I want to get married ; the party of the second part's down-stairs 
 
 will you do it f 
 
 RuGGLES. 'Pon my word, this is rather rushing it ! 
 
 Muggins. Jf I don't do the rushing, somebody else will, {aside) and 
 mighty soon too ! We're both of age, and a half of our parient con- 
 sents. {Looking at his watch.) It's now two o'clock, and I want to 
 catch the 2.30 train for New York. Come, put us out of misery ! 
 
 RuGGLES. As to that, I can't say, but it will be putting you into one 
 or the other. 
 
 Muggins. Will you do it ? 
 
 RuGGLES. Well, as I know something of this case, I will. 
 
 Muggins, Hurrah ! {He runs, l., and calls off' to Ruth.) Come up, 
 he'll do it ! 
 
 Ruth enters bashfully and steals to Muggins'' side. 
 
 RuGGLEs. Step this way ; I'll call some witness, and dispatch you as 
 quickly as the law allows. 
 
 (He exits into study. Ruth and Muggins ivait till he's off-stage, then 
 embrace each other and follow him. 
 
44 HOXEY AND ORTHODOXY. 
 
 Enter Harvey, L., dressed for travelling, anth satchel, coat, etc. He lays 
 doivn baggage and looks around. 
 
 Harvey. This is Dr. Ruggles' study, Avhere Charley's note instructs 
 jiie to wait ; he has something of importance for me. Can it be a 
 :note from Nellie "? Oh, if it were ! Her eyes were filled with tears 
 w^hen I bade her good -by, and I longed to speak to her, yet dared not 
 -.trust my tongue in the presence of those wretches who were gloating 
 over my misery. When I see the success which so many knaves and 
 hypocrites enjoy, I think the old maxim should be changed to " Trick- 
 ery and rascality is the best policy." 
 
 Bushton enters, R. 
 
 EuRHTON {severely). Halloa, sir ! What are you doing here ? 
 
 Harvey [aside). He here ! 
 
 RuSHTON. I thought you were on your way to New York. 
 
 Harvey (c). You see you were mistaken, sir. 
 
 RusHToN. But I don't see the meaning of your presence here ! I 
 thought, after the display of rowdyism with which you favored us, 
 you'd scarcely care to be seen in this neighborhood ! 
 
 Harvey (sadly). You use a very harsh term, sir. 
 
 RuSHTON. The law calls it assault and battery, and assault and battery 
 is the outcropping of rowdyism. How may I interpret your presence 
 here ? Is there some new outrage under foot ? 
 
 Harvey. I have given you no cause for entertaining so mean an opin- 
 ion of me. 
 
 EuSHTON {aside). He keeps his temper under excellent control. {Aloud.) 
 Young men are very depraved nowadays ; thefts, burglaries, and all 
 sorts of desperate crimes are very common. There's no knowing 
 whom to trust ; even you — 
 
 Harvey. Stop, sir ! You have wounded and humiliated me enough 
 with your displeasure; you need not insult me more by putting the 
 whole criminal calendar on my shoulders. I expected at least a little 
 better treatment from a gentleman. 
 
 (Picks up his baggage and goes to door, h. 
 
 RusHTON. Stop, that's the front door ! You'll oblige me by making 
 your exit through the back entrance. {Points to R. 
 
 Harvey {aside). Oh, who'd have thought this of him ! 
 
 Bushton. And as there's no telling what you might take into your 
 
 head, I'll send some one to see you off the premises. 
 
 Harvey {haughtily). You need not trouble yourself. 
 
 RusHTON {goes to door, r.). Halloa there! 
 
 {Harvey takes up baggage and walks to door, r. , haughtily; as he 
 
ACT V. 45 
 
 reaches tJie threshold, Nellie enters; he drops baggage and starts back 
 in amazement. 
 RuSHTON {laughing). Nellie, take this rascal up to the villa, and lock 
 him up iu the deepest dungeon ; watch him closely, for he's a despe- 
 rate character. 
 
 Nellie clasps Harveifs hands joyfully, 
 
 Harvey. Heavens ! have I lost my senses? (He staggers. 
 
 RuSHTON (catching him). You, foolish boy! Don't lose your head, 
 that's mortgaged now. Here, sit down. {Puts him, on chair.) Nurse 
 him, Nellie, while I run for the doctor's medicine-chest. [Aside.) It's 
 almost too great a shock for the poor boy. (Exit, R. 
 
 Harvey. Is this reality ? 
 
 Nellie (embracing him). Can you doubt it ? 
 
 Harvey (after a pause, rises and comes c. ivith Nellie). You're 
 not trilling with me? No, no! you could not be capable of such 
 ■baseness ! Nellie! a lifetime can not repay the joy of this hour ! 
 
 {He folds her in his arms; his back towards L. 
 
 Hoxey, Withers, Smithers, and Maria rush in, L. d. Hoxey seizes 
 Harvey and shakes him. 
 
 Hoxey. You villain ! (Harvey turns around. 
 
 All {in amazement). Mr. Chester ! 
 
 Harvey {embracing Nellie). And Miss Rushton — at your service ! 
 
 Hoxey. Sodom and Gomorrah ! 
 
 Withers. Damnation ! 
 
 Maria. Well, I never ! 
 
 Harvey {mockingly). Can I do any thing for you, gentlemen ?' 
 
 Hoxey. This is horrible ! 
 
 Smithers. Shameful ! 
 
 Maria. I shall faint ! {Falls into Smithers' arms. 
 
 Smithers {supporting Maria). The wolf has entered the field and 
 
 carried off the pet lamb ! 
 Withers {aside). And cooked my mutton, confound him ! 
 Hoxey {to Nellie). Come here, you hussy ! {Nellie clings to Harvey. 
 Maria {recovering). You shameless girl! 
 Smithrrs. As Christians, it becomes our duty to tear the lamb from 
 
 the claws of the wolf. 
 Harvey. As a happy man, who doesn't care a snap for your wh(de 
 
 party, I advise you to mind your own business. 
 
46 HOXEY ANI) ORTHODOXY. 
 
 All. Oh! oh! 
 
 They maJce a movement toivards Ilarvey, who stands on the defensive, ' 
 when Hushton enters, R., with bottle. 
 
 EuSHTON. HaHoa ! What's theineauiug of all thi^ ! This is rather 
 an unexpected visit ! 
 
 Maria. Mark ! (Cries. 
 
 Smithers. Mr. Rushton— 
 
 RusHTON (r.). Well, sir? 
 
 HoxEY. Do you see ? [Points to Chester and Nellie. 
 
 Rushton {looking). Do I see what ? 
 
 HoXEY. Do you see your daughter ? 
 
 Rushton. I do; what about it f 
 
 HoxEY {shrieldng). What about it? {To others.) He's gone crazy ! 
 
 Smithers. The action of this young man is scandalous ! 
 
 Rushton. Perhaps he's been following the example of some of your 
 pious brethren ! 
 
 Maria. I shall die with shame ! 
 
 Rushton. I perceive that you do not exactly comprehend the situa- 
 tion. Permit me to enlighten you by presenting my future smi-in- 
 law, Mr. Chester. 
 
 All. What ! 
 
 HoxEY. Is it possible ! 
 
 Smithers. Piety and virtue have no appreciation here ! 
 
 Withers {aside). Check mated, by Jove ! 
 
 HoxEY. My doubts are verified. Mark, are you in your senses ? 
 
 Rushton. I'm happy to state that my faculties were never clearer 
 than at this identical moment, 
 
 HoxEY. Tlien you commit a grievous sin. To rear a tender child to 
 womanhood, and then deliver her, body and soul, into the hands of an 
 infidel, a child of darkness ! Mark ! Mark ! I have often Avarned 
 you against your loose ideas ; I knew you would ruin your child. 
 Look at my daughter — 
 
 Charley enters and announces loudly, ^^ Mr. and Mrs. George Washington 
 Muggins.''^ Exclamation of surprise and astonishment by all as Mug- 
 gins and Buth enter, followed by Muggles 
 
 HoxEY {in great anger). Ruth ! 
 
 Withers {aside). Now for an explosion ! 
 
 HoxEY {yelling). Come here, you miserable sinner. 
 
 {3foves to seize her. 
 MuOGiNS {shielding Ruth). Don't you know it's a dangerous thing to 
 interfere witli another man's wife ? 
 
ACT V. 
 
 41' 
 
 RuSHTON {aside to Hoxey). Wliy, Joseph, this rather spoils the little 
 comparison you were about to draw ! 
 
 Hoxey. Ruth, I disowu you ! {To Muggins.) And you too ! 
 
 Muggins. Thank you — much obliged to you. 
 
 Hoxey. Who has dared perform this unlawful ceremony ? 
 
 Eug(;les. I must confess myself the-culprit. 
 
 Smithees. There are many wolves in sheep's clothing in the ministry. 
 
 EuGGLEs. I regret to say, many asses too. 
 
 Hoxey. Let us leave this nest of sinfulness. (To Biitli.) And you, 
 hussy, never show your face to me again. 
 
 EuGGLES. Before you go, my friend, let me give you a bit of advice. 
 Christianity and uprightness is not a matter of words or appear- 
 ances, but of works. "Words are the light playthings of the tongue, 
 but works proclaim the spirit and worth of the man ; then do not go 
 preaching, with the tongue, what your works belie. The first princi- 
 ple of Christianity is charity ; but when I examine your conduct and 
 actions, I find a lamentable absence of the first principle. 
 
 Hoxey {to Smithers). Let us go; the devil's turned preacher! {Exit, l. 
 
 Smithers. Yea, verily, the judgment-day cometh ! {Exit, L. 
 
 Maria. I shall die with sliame ! {Exit, h. 
 
 Charley {aside). She's been dying with shame the last fifteen years, 
 to my knowledge. 
 
 Withers {aside). My little game's miscarried ; fortunately, however, 
 the matrimonial market is large, and fools plenty. {Aloud.) Permit me 
 to ofi'er my congratulations to the happy couple that is, and that's to 
 be. I regret to say that the atmcjsphere of this place does not agree 
 with me — it's too strong, so I shall have to tear myself from you. 
 
 RuSHTON. By all means look after your health ; you'll find the atmos- 
 phere getting much stronger here, in a very little while. 
 
 Withers {politely). Adieu. {Exit, h. 
 
 RuSHTON. Now, my children, how do you feel ? 
 
 Harvey. There's no name for my joy ! 
 
 Nellie. Nor mine ! 
 
 Ruth. I feel as if I'd swallowed a whole laughing-gas factory ! 
 
 Muggins. I feel like Samson when he slew the Philistines —or any 
 other hero. I've euchred the devil and Hoxey and Ortholoxy. 
 
 RusHTON. I trust that your happiness may be lasting, and it remains 
 witli you to make it so. Let your creed be Kindness and Charity ; 
 let it manifest itself in your intercourse with every one, and you will 
 not only create happiness around you, but will be strengthened, 
 elevated, and purified by the self-same infiuences which you endeavor 
 ■to cultivate. — Curtain. 
 
 END. 
 
017 401 446 2