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CONTAINING A VEEY LAEGB NUMBEB OP INTERESTING AND SPIRITED DIALOGUES ON VAEIOUS SUBJECTS, FOR FROM TWO TO TWENTY CHILDREN r NEW YORK: ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, No. 33 EosE Street. CopjTiglit, 1876, by Robert M. De Witt. The «»Webster" Standard Series WEBSTER'S PRACTICAL LETTER WRITER. WEBSTER^S reciter ; or, Elocution Made Easy. WEBSTER'S BUSINESS MAN ; or, Counting-housb Correspondent. WEBSTER'S CHAIRMAN'S MANUAL and Speak- ers' Guide. WEBSTER S READY-MADE LOVE-LETTERS. WEBSTER'S LITTLE FOLKS' SPEAKER. WEBSTER'S YOUTHFUL SPEAKER. WEBSTER'S PROGRESSIVE SPEAKER. \* The above books arc all handsome 12mo8. Price, in boards, 50 cenU- eooh. In cloth, giJt lettered, 75 cents each. TB^E " WEBSTER " STANDARD SERIES contains five of the very beat practical works on the different subjects to which they are devoted. 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CONTENTS OF MACAULAY'S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. Name. Author. Page. Almanac, Our George Cooper.... 63 Alphabet Roundelay, The (with arrangement and music) ZoRA E. RYi)ER 158 Angels' Ladder, The Anon 54 At Our House Anon 8 Baby-Land George Cooper.... 49 Bee, Clock, and Broom Anon 39 Bevy of I's (Eyes), A Anon 21 Bird Notes Kate Ashley 89 Billy and Me Anon 171 Birds, The Abby M. DiAS 15 Boys' and Girls' Talk about Woman Suffrage Mary F. Brady. .. 151 Boys' Rights Anon 10 Boy Talk , Anon 35 Brandy Drops M. H 104 Bridal Wine Cup, The Sidney Herbert.. 190 Can and Can't, Anon.. 48 Chickadees, The Anon 85 Choice, The Anon 7, 55 Christmas Gifts Anon 26 Cold Water Lee H. Dee 57 Dare and Do Anon 144 Days of the Week, The Elsie Bee 43 4 CONTENTS. Name. Author. Page. Drunkard's Fate, The Perry C.Ellis — 59 Easter Cross, The Anon 96 Eight O'clock Ellen Dennis .... 31 Exercise Anon 49 Faith, Hope, and Charity Anon 41 Fashionable Follies Anon 17 Figures, The... Anon 47 Flower-Garden Fairies Anon 9 Froggie and his Friends Anon 13 Funny Lot, A Laura E. Richards 168 Going to School .^. Anon 52 Golden Rule, The Anon 118 Good-Bye George Cooper .... 78 Gossip * Anon 145 Graduates, The = E. S. T 174 Great Secret, A Anon. 122 Great Lives Anon 18 Half-Minute Song, A Anon 76 Hamlet and the Ghost. Anon 103 Happy Little Girls Anon '. 39 Happiness not in Station Anon 127 Hippity-Hop Anon 62 Hopeless Case, A '. Anon 44 Hurry Along Anon 50 I Can and I Can't .Anon 117 Idle Wishing „ Mary N. Prescott 32 Intemperance Anon 186 Irish Servant, The , , Anon 125 Jack Horner Anon 80 Jarley Wax-Works Anon 98 Joe's Boy J. F. Adams 17^ June Morning Lesson Anon 88 Keeping your Eyes Open Anon 114 Know Nothing, The Anon 133 Learning to Count. Anon 76 Little Bluebeard Anon 65 Little Ben Bute Anon 86 Little by Little Anon 143 CONTENTS. O Name. Author. Page. Little Kindnesses Anon 87 Little Gymnasts, The Mrs. Kidder 20 Little Philosopher, The Anon 28 Little Red Riding-Hood Anon 33 Little Watchmen, The George Cooper... 59 Love One Another Anon 71 May, The Anon 37 Months, The Mary N. Prescott 75 Months, The Anon 115 Morning Call, A...o Fanny Percival .. 82 Mother is Dead Anon 34 Multiplication Mary N. Prescott 79 New Bonnet, The Anon 61 Only True Life, The Anon 123 Pedigree Anon 135 Potters, The Anon 148 Pride Anon 45 Queen of the Orkney Islands, The Anon 72 Queer Anon 56 Queer People Anon 93 Quarrel Among the Flowers, The Anon 90 Race , The Anon 65 Ragged Dick's Lesson Anon 108 Railroad, The . . . , Anon 81 Real Gentleman, The Anon 131 Ring Freedom's Bells Ellen O. Peck 185 Rival Orators, The Anon ,. . . . 137 Rose Anon ♦. 84 Seasons, The Emily Carter 30 Seasons, The Elsie Bee. 92 Shark, The Anon.... 53 Shopping Anon Ill Sippity-Sup Anon 71 Sisters, The Ida Fay 14 Slander Anon 129 Snowball, The George Cooper... 74 Sparrows, The Anon 80 Summer Day, A George Cooper... 77 6 CONTENTS. Name. Author. Page. Sunrise and Sunset Anon 141 Surprise, The Ida Fay 23 - Sweetest George Coopek. . . 60 Tale of Ten Pigs, A H. E. George 91 Tantrums.. Edgar Fawcett... 83 Ten Little Dollies Anon 24 Try— Keep Trying.* — Anon 68 True Manhood Anon 101 True Usefulness. Anon 150 Turtle and Flamingo, The J. T. Fields 170 Unlucky Boy, The Anon .... 179 Up and Doing .~. Anon 70 Wake George Cooper... 69 Welcome, The Anon 27, 51, 64 We'll Try M. B. C. Slade.... 25 What is the Matter ?.. Anon 73 What rd Like to Be.. Anon 119 What are we Good for ? .....Anon 11 What to Be Anon 142 What Says the Fountain ? Anon 144 Which ? George Cooper ... 95 What we Love Anon 8, 63 What we Love Best... ..Anon 14 Where are You Going ? Mrs.M. G. Kennedy 181 Who? Anon 121 Will it Pay ? Anon 12 Winter Anon 74 Worth, not Wealth Anon 148 Youthful Band, The Chas. H. Gabriel.. 58 MACAULATS DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. THE OHOIOE. [For two very little girls and hoys.] First Boy. I'd like to be a soldier brave, to march with fife and drum, To charge and whip the enemy, when near to them we come. First Girl. Oh, dear, how cruel that would be ! I'd rather stay at home, And nurse the sick and wounded men that from the battle come. Second Boy. I'd rather be a sailor bold, to sail away so free — And wander up and down the world, strange sights and lands to see. Second Girl. Dear me ! my home is sweet and fair, my parents kind and true ; If I should wander off so far I don't know what they'd do ' Both Boys. Well, we are boys, and in the world we have to make our marks ! First Boy. A soldier 1 1 Second Boy. A sailor I — as merry as a lark ! Both Girls. Well, one may fight, and one may sail to seek for gold and pearls ; But we're content to stay at home, our mother's darling girls. {They all go off, hand in hand.) O MAOAULAY'S DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. AT OUE HOUSE. k [For a very little girl and hoy.] Boy. We've got a piano, and a brand new baby, and a veloci- pede, and a barrel of apples at our house. Gii'l. Oh, I've got a grown-up sister, and there's a young man who calls on her twice a week, and then she makes such a fuss, and gives me a penny to stay down stairs. Boy. Then, we've got a cat, and two canaries, and a cupola on top of our house. Girl. Oh, that's nothing ! I heard papa say that we had a mortgage on top of ours, though I never saw it myself. Boy. Got anything else '? Girl. Oh, lots ; but I forget. ^ . Boy. Good-bye, folks ! {kisses hand.) Girl. Good-bye, folks ! {kisses hands. They go outj hand in hand.) WHAT WE LOVE. [For three nery little girls.] First Girl. I love the stars, the blossoms sweet, The flowers — and sugar-plums to eat ! Second Girl. I love the birds, and butterflies. And leaves— and home-made pumpkin pies ! Third Girl. I love these, too ; but let's recall : What is it we love best of all '? First Girl. I know — nice dresses, laces, bows. And jelly-cake, and things like those. Second Girl. Yes, pic-nics, too, and lots of fun. And faces smiling like the sun. Third Girl. What ! don't you love your sister, brother QpAJ^n- 7 ( ^^ course — and papa, dear, and mother ! First Girl. And good folks here 7 First and ) ^^^5^ ^^^^ *^^* ^^^^' sZondGirl \^^^ ^^^^'^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^P *^ ^®^^ ' ^^^^^ ) scamper off.) macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. PLOWEE-GAEDEN PAERIES. [For five little girls.'] QuEEX, Bloom, Breeze, Perfume, Dew. Queen, Fairies, last night wr.s a lovely night ; No tempest disturbed the calm moonlight ; A season of labor for all my elves — So, fays of the garden, Sport yourselves. Bloom and Perfume, Breeze and Dew, There was plenty of work for each of you. Bloom. Yes, gracious Queen, the summer is here, And the garden requires us, afar and near. 'Tis the first of June, and well I know 'Tis time, high time, for the roses to blow. All night I fluttered from bush to bush, And with dainty fingers did deftly push The clinging calyx of buds apart. Till I found the rose's own red heart.' Petal by petal, with softest care, I opened out to the moonlit air, Till, on every bush, 'mid branches green, Small clouds of the sweetest pink were seen. When indolent mortals this morn arise, They will look at their gardens in glad surprise. " Oh, the roses ! the roses ! " the child will shout, '•' The beautiful, beautiful roses are out ! " Perfume. Fair Queen, I followed my sister. Bloom, All night thro' the garden's moonlit gloom, With my golden vials of fragrance, filled With the sweets from our fairy flawers distilled, And I left a drop in the crimson heart Of every rose which her touch did part, Till the sleepy bee in his dreams did hum With a vision of honey and summer come. Dew. Sweet Queen, I followed the other two, Weighed down with jewels of every hue, Which I hung on the blossoms, on brow and breast. 10 MACAULAY's dialogues foe lilTTLE FOLKS. Until every rose was in diamonds drest. When the sun comes up men will see a sight ! Pearls, emeralds, rubies, sapphires bright, Shining and glowing. Will they divine How the gems were brought from a fairy mine 1 Or how I tugged, thro' the summer night. My sack of jewels for their delight '? Breeze. Good Queen, I followed Perfume and Dew, With the magic fan which I had from you. I fanned the warm and drooping flow'rs ; I cooled the birds in their leafy bowers, And in at the windows of mortal man I flew with the wave of my magic fan. I stole the odors of roses red. To take to the sick man's fevered bed. AVhen he awakes from his hateful dreams, He'll murmur, '' How fresh the morning seems." Thus we labor all night, with the wish to make The earth more fair when mortals wake. Queen, Well done, fair elves. You have labored well, And there is the sound of the sunrise bell ; To-morrow night your task is to ope Honeysuckle and heliotrope. And now to your beds of thistle-down. And may softest slumbers your labors crown. {All retire,) BOYS' EIGHTS. [For four little bops.] John, James, Philip and Henry. John. You all have heard of woman's rights, and why not little boys' rights 1 James. That's so, let us stick up for ours ! Phihp. We will draw up a proclamation and proclaim a rebel- lion. Harry. Hurrah! macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 11 Phil. These shall be some of the rules we will lay down : Cake whenever we want it ! Henry. And candy too. John. Of course ! James. Never go to bed till the old folks do ! Phil. Wear high hats ! ^ John. Shave ! Henry. And resolve never to be snubbed by our elders ! James. Go in swimming when we please — winter or summer. Phil. Let us bravely resolve to stand by each other and give the whole world our respectful defiance. All. We pledge ourselves ! (they take each othefs hands) Hur- rah ! for the new republic ! Hip ! hip ! Voice {within). You boys! it's time you were in bed! {Ihey retire in an obedient manner^ on tip-toes.) WHAT AEE WE GOOD POK ? [For three little girls.} Sadie, Lucy, and Mary. Sadie. Girls, I heard an old bachelor — I think he must have been one — ask, what in the world little girls were good for '? Lucy and Mary. Indeed ! Well, I declare ! Sadie. We might well ask what is an old crusty bachelor good for-? Lucy. We're good to help mother. Mary. Good to love papa. Sadie. Good to make the world brighter. Lucy. And love our teachers. Mary. Good to play. Sadie. And learn our lessons. T^ucy. There ! if we are not good for something in this world, I should like to know what grown folks are good for 1 Sadie and Mary. Yes, indeed ! {All go off.) 12 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOK LITTLE FOLKS, WILL IT PAY ? [For two hoys.] Enter hoys, with looks ^ etc., as if on the way to school. Ban and Ed. Dan. I say, Ed, let us play truant to-day, and have some fun. This going to school all the time is stupid enough for old Time himself, but for us boys it's a mean thing. I'm ready for a break, no matter what happens. Ed. Fun is a good thing when it's honestly got. When it's dis- honestly obtained it don't j)ay. I'd like a day's sport well enough, but if I obtained it by truancy it would be solemn sport, I guess. Dan. Oh, pshaw! You are much too scrupulous. What is a day's absence from school '? Why, a bad punctuality mark, that is all. Ed. Is it 1 How about lessons '? Dan. Oh, the lessons are lost too, of course. Ed. Nothing else 1 Dan. Not that I can see. Ed. Your class standing is lowered. Dan. Well, yes, I suppose it will be. Ed. And there's another thing. You will have to practice de- ception towards your parents to hide your absenteeism. Dan. Of course. It wouldn't do for father to learn that I was playing truant. Ed. But, worse than all, is the fact that by doing this you lose your own respect for yourself. You are ashamed of yourself. You can't look yourself squarely in the face and say, " This is honest Dan." Dan. That's just as true as square root. Ed. Do you think then that a day's truancy will pay '? Dan. I don't think it will, old fellow. Your head is level and your heart is right. Here's for old books if it gives me the mumps. Come right along. {They retire.) MACAUIiAY S DIALOGUES FOE LITTIiE FOIiKS. 13 PEOGGIE AND HIS FEIENDS. [For eight little boys.] First Boy, Froggie was a dandy ; — " I and the sun, you see, Rise early in the morning ; — Good morning, Sun," says he. Second Boy. Froggie went a-bathing, The barber made him shine ; His mother washed his clothes out, And hung them on the line. TJiird Boy. Froggie went a-wooing ; — '' Oh, lady fair," said he, '' Take, take this pretty posie ! And oh, lady fair, take me ! " Fourth Boy. Froggie gave a concert In a moonlit place ; The little frogs sang treble. And the old frogs sang bass. Fifth Boy. Froggie was a master ; He kept the village school, And taught the little froggies To dive into the pool. Sixth Boy. Two little frogs played truant ; They went to have some fun ; Along came Craney Longlegs, And then there was but one ! SeventJi Boy. When good little frogs have supper, He will cry and pout ; Says mamma frog, " You were naughty, And you must go without." Eighth Boy. With a mushroom for a table. And butterflies for tea : All. If we were only frogs now, How happy we should be ! ( They all hop o^ 14 macatjlay's dialogues fob little folks. THE SISTEES. IDA FAY. [For two little girls.] Laura. I want to be out in the garden so pleasant ; There's no time for play, sister mine, like the present. Edith, The best time for play, and for healthy enjoyment, Believe me, dear Laura, is after employment. Laura. Where the sunshine is smihng on trees and on flowers, Let us go far away from this dull room of ours. Edith. As for flowers, see those I have put in the pitcher : In flowers I'm sure that we need not be richer. Laura. Ah ! stupid it is when the soft breeze is blowing, Shut up in the house to be kept at our sewing. Edith. But after our sewing, my dear, is well ended, A walk in the garden and grove will be splendid. Laura. By the way you keep on with your stitching and stitching, One would say you must find it a task quite bewitching. Edith. So I do ; and I'll tell you the rule I'm pursuing ; 'Tis to put my best work into what I am doing I WHAT WE LOVE BEST. [For two "oery little boys.] First Boy. I love the summer days so fair, I love the sunshine gay ; I love the school and teachers there, I love to romp and play. Second Boy. I love the flowers so sweet and bright, I love my comrades too ; I love my home — my heart's delight ; I love my dog so true. First Boy. I love the pleasant faces here, — I love my sisters — brothers. Second Boy. There's some one else we love most dear — Both. Our fathers and our mothers ! MACAUIiAY S DIAIOGXJES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 15 THE BIEDS. ABBY M. DIAS. [A dialogue for tTdrteen hoys and girls.] Mary. Debbie, Joe, and Gus ; Dora, Edith, Fred, Carolls'e, HiTTiE, Arthur, Eva, Mixxie, Johnny. Edith. What bird would you rather be 1 I should rather be a canary bird, 'cause they have sponge-cake and sugar-lumps every day! Hittie. 0, I wouldn't be a canary bird, shut up in a cage ! Dora. I should rather live on dry sticks. Minnie. My mamma's got a canary bird, and he sings, and he's yellow. Hittie. Parrots are the prettiest. Mary. Why don't somebody be a flamingo 1 They are flame- colored. Arthur. I should think some of you girls would want to be a peacock. Debbie. Now, what do you say girls for 1 Boys think as much of their new clothes as girls do ! Dora and Mary. Just as much ! E?'ed. I know who seems like a peacock. Nannie Minns. I saw her stepping off the other day, just as proud ! About seven- teen flounces ; and yellow kids and yellow boots, and curls and streamers ! First looking at her dress, and then at her boots, and then at her gloves, and then at her curls — this way. {imitates Nannie Minns icalking.) Debbie. Well, if some girls are peacocks, so are some boys hawks. I saw that great Joshua Lowe come pouncing down among a flock of little boys yesterday, and do anything he could think of to 'em, just to show he could master them ! Mary. And if you want a crow-flghter, take Andy Barrows ; he's always picking a quarrel. Dora. I know it. I've heard him. -'Come on!" he says. ''Come on! I'll fight ye !" 16 MACAULAY'S dialogues foe UTTLE FOIiKS. Caroline. I think as a general thing girls act better than boys. What do yon think about it, little Minnie 1: You don't say much. Minnie, I'd be a humming bird. Edith. She thinks you're talking about birds. Caroline. And what would you be a humming-bird for ? Minnie. 'Cause they're so pretty, and just as cunning ! Hittie. So they are, Minnie. Minnie. And they keep with the flowers all the time, and eat honey. Arthur. Eat the little mites of insects much as they do honey. Edith. My brother found a humming-bird's nest. Oh, the in- side of it was just as soft as wool, and little bits of white eggs just like little bits of white beans. Bora (looking at E^a, and taking her hand). Now here's a little girl standing here all the time, and not saying a word. Caroline. I know it. Isn't she a dear little girl 1 (stroking her hair.) Mary. She ought to be a dove ; she's as gentle and still. Debbie. You dear little pigeon-dove, what bird would you be ? Eva (looking up). Sparrow ! Mary. You would 7 And what would you be a sporrow for 1 Eva. 'Cause my mamma said, not a sparrow falls down to the ground, (the girls look at each other.) Debbie. Isn't she cunning 7 Mary and Dora. I think she's just as cunning as, she can be ! Joe. Fred hasn't said what he'd be, yet. Fred. Eagle. He's the grandest of all. He can fly'right in the face of the sun ! Johnny. Eagles can beat every other bird. Joe. Of course ! Fred wouldn't be anything short of an eagle ! Fred. No ; nor anything short of the American Eagle ! Gus. 'Cause he can beat all the other eagles ! . All the Boys. That's so ! Three cheers for the American Eagle ! All (together). Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! (Exeunt.) macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 17 PASHIOIJABLE POLLIES. [For tico little girls, Belle and Laura.] Belle. Good morning, Laura ; going to school 1: Thank you, I don't feel well at all — My head aches ; we all missed you so Last night at Dolly Sparkle's ball. We had a splendid time. Full dress, And not a soul arrived till nine. The music and the supper, too. Were tip-top — lots of ice and wine. Laura, My mamma thought the hours too late ; So papa wrote " regrets," and said I had my bread and milk at six, And that at seven I went to bed. Belle. Oh, horrible ! I should expire With shame if I were treated so ! I wore a new pink satin dress. And, Laura dear, I caught a beau ! Laura. A bow '? Who lost it '? Belle. Little dunce ! I mean a friend who waits on one ; His manners were so marked the girls Were dead with envy. Law — such fun ! Laura. I'm sorry. Belle, I was not there ; But mamma thinks these midnight hours Are bad for little girls like us, Who need to sleep like birds and flowers. Belle. Don't call me, please, a little girl, That term's entirely out of date In good society. Why, Loll, On my next birthday I'll be eight ! [a liell rings.) Laura. Ah ! there's the bell, and I must go ; Not once this session I've been late. ' Come, Belle. Not going 1 Miss your school 1 Good-bye then, for I dare not wait. {Exit.) 18 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Belle. I ought to go with her to school, But not a lesson have I learned. That " Fancy Dress " comes off to-night, And with them all my head is turned. ^^ I'm tired of grammar and of slate, All school books are but stupid stuff. When I have learned the Boston Dip, I really think I'll know enough ! {Exit.) GEEAT LIVES. [For six loys and six girls.] First Girl. Come, let us search the lists of fame, the lives of greatest men, And find some grand and worthy name to help and cheer us when, In coming life, we try our best some noble work to do. Say, Harry, Kate, and all the rest, what name is dear to you 1 First Boy. I can tell you how Columbus sailed unknown oceans o'er, To find this lovely continent no sail had sought before ; So brave, so strong, so firm of will, so patient, and so true ; Shall not Golumhus be a name — a model, boys, for you 1 Second Girl. You know for him the daughter of the proud Castilian kings Sold all her shining jewels, her diamonds and rings ; If Isabella had not been so kind, so wise, so brave, Columbus never might have crossed the broad Atlantic wave. Second Boy. I love to think how Howard his life of mercy spent ; How months and years thro' dreary cells and dungeons dark he went. The prison walls, the house of pain, the gloomy haunts of woe. Are still with us ; as Howard went sometime our feet should go. Third Girl. Ah ! Europe heard a sweeter voice above her sorrow's wail, When thro' her hospitals of pain sung Florence Nightingale I macauijAy's dialogues foe little folks. 19 And by her European name a Yankee girl will fix High on the lists of woman's fame — our Dorothea Dix ! Third Boy, And I will tell how Judson left his home and native land, To go to teach the heathen, far off on India's strand. If God should say to us, " Arise, and thither go !" The saintly life of Judson would light the way, I know. Fourth Girl. That saintly life of Judson beams like a glorious star, That shines and glows and purely beams high in the heavens afar ; But close beside, a clustering group of silvery light I see ; For sharing Judson' s cares and toils were Mrs. Judsons three ! Fourth Boy. I bring the name of Lincoln ! the man we loved so well ; His strong, true, noble spirit, no words its worth can tell ; He showed us how to firmly stand, to wisely do and dare ! Oh, brothers, is not his true life a model pure and fair 7 Fifth Girl. So pure, so strong and high he sta.nds, I bring no woman's plaim To set beside our martyred one, to share his cloudless fame ! A million women lift their hands, chainless and free to-day. And bless the great deliverer who swept their chains away ! Fifth Boy. Now, Yankee boys and Yankee girls, is all the story done 1 And have you failed to find the name of our great Washington ? The Father of his Country, who made his country free, Thro' childhood, boyhood, manhood's prime, a model is for me ! Sixth Girl. And she who made him what he was, I honor none the less ; Her country's daughters her sweet name forever keep and bless. Far down our Nation's glorious years, high on the lists of fame. Oh, Martha Washington, we write thy fair and snow-white name ! Sixth Boy. And so we wreathe the noble names, a starry garland bright, To cheer our hearts, to light our steps, to guide our ways aright. 20 MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOE TilTTLE FOLKS. So shall the lives of noble men and noble women, too, Teach us to " make our lives sublime," and grand and brave and true. For all the good of every soul, within each soul may dwell ; And highest work that man has done, each man may do as well, And not a soul is crowned on high, a true and faithful son, But we may work as he has worked and win the same, " Well done !" ^They go off. THE LITTLE GTMMSTS. MRS. KIDDER. [For three little toys and three girls, and the class. The 'carious actions indicated should he given in concert.'] First Boy. Oh, say, oh, say ! what shall we do, We restless girls and boys '? What exercise shall we go thro', To add to all our joys ? First Girl. We play, we run, and have such fun, i That people think we're mad ; And now, good friends, we every one Will try and make you glad. Class. We'll rise and fall, grow short and tall, We'll clap and stamp and whirl ; With our pluribus unimus how do you do, Each happy boy and girl. Second Boy. Our youthful limbs must thrive and grow, Perhaps you know the fact. That if we sit, bent like a bow, We'll have a crooked hack ! Second Girl. Then let us rise and exercise Each muscle, nerve and limb ; For every one who onlj^ tries. May grow up straight and trim. Class. We'll rise, etc. MACAULAY S DIALOGUES FOK LITTLE FOLKS. TJiird Boy. We'll point to this, we'll point to that, We'll point above, below ; We'll look to right, we'll look to left, And up and down, just so. Third Gfirl. We'll laugh, we 11 cry and wink one eye, Then quickly wink the other ; And then w^e'll kiss you all good-bye, And trudge oflf home to mother ! Class. We'll rise, etc. {Exeunt.) 21 A BEVY OF ^TS." (Eyes.) [For eight little girls.'] The children enter in a line, one hehind the other. One recites her 'cerse and then retires to the rear of the line ; then the next girl in order does likewise, and so on, until all have spoJcen ; when all advance in a line abreast and recite the last stanza. Some regard to tlie character represented should be made in tlie dress. First Girl. I am the little busy bee Who improves each shining hour, And gathers honey all the day From every opening flower. Second Girl. And I am Httle busybody, Who don't know anything ; Except that silk is silk, not shoddy — That gold has a charming ring ! Third Girl. Jam only a country lass. But a heap of things I know ; ' I know that grass is green as grass — I know that cheese is milk with a squeeze — I know that bees don't roost on trees — I know that geese are picked for their fleece — I know — well, a heap more than city girls do. I 22 macaulay's dialogues fob little folks. Fourth Girl. I wouldn't be a country girl — They make such curious speeches ! They pump the cows and pick the eggs Which grow on trees, like peaches. I've never seen a sheep or ox, But that's not worth the minding — For I've seen Barnum's elephant, And heard the organ grinding. Fifth Girl. Oh, yes ; I've heard the strawberry girls Go crying, " straw-ber-rees ! Only tin cints a basket, mum ; Will ye take the lot, mum, please 1" Sixth Girl. I like the flower girls, in spring, With their violets, pinks and roses ; So pretty and bright to please our sight, And so sweet to please our noses. Seventh Girl. I'm a dozen things a day, If you believe what people say ; Sister calls me little plague ! Brother says I'm little teaze I And I guess they're ^t(j^-thirds right, For I'm sometimes both of these. But there's a gentleman who comes To see sister every night. Calls me witch and calls rae fairy, And I guess he's three-thirds right 1 Eighth Girl. I'm the famous little Gill Who went tumbling down the nill ; Just because that awkv/ard Jack Fell, and gave his crown a thwack. But Mother Goose forgot to tell What we did after we fell ; I will make the story plain — We picked ourselves — and the basket, and the water up again ! MACAULAY's dialogues foe lilTTIiE FOLKS. 23 All. And we are all dear little graces, From whom shall spring your future blisses ; You can, if wise, see woman's traces In us you name " nothing but misses." {All cour- tesy and retire.') THE SUEPEISE. IDA FAY. [For a little girl and hoy.] The little hoy slyly comes hehind the little girl, and covers her ' iDith both his hands. Boy. Whose hands are over your eyes '? Guess quick ! Girl. Old Mother Hubbard's '? Boy. Wrong ; guess again. G-irl. The good fairy's Teenty Fawnty % Boy. There are no fairies in this part of the country, and you know it. Guess again. Girl. Well, I guess it is the old woman who lived in a shoe. Boy. She is not in these parts. I will give you one more chance. Who is it 1 Girl. I think it must be Miss Muffit — the one who was fright- ened by a spider. Boy. Nonsense ! One would think you had read nothing but Mother Goose's melodies. Girl. Can it be Tom, Tom, the piper's son 1 Boy. No ; I never stole a pig in my life. Now, give me the right name this time, or prepare to have your ears pulled. Girl. Oh, that would never do ! I think it must be my cousin Johnny Mason who is hiding the daylight from me. Boy. Right ! Right at last ! One kiss, and you may go ! {Both scaniper off.) 24 MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOB LITTLE FOLKS. TEN LITTLE DOLLIES. {For five little girls.'] First Girl. Ten little dollies standing in a line, One tumbled down and then there were nine. Second Girl. Nine little dollies sitting up so late, One went to sleep and then there were eight. All. One little, two little, three little, four little, five little dol- lies fine ; Five little, four little, three little, two little, one little dolly mine. Third Girl, Eight little dollies — all their ages even, One grew up tall and then there were seven. Fourth Girl. Seven little dollies, full of funny tricks, — One snapt her head off and then there were six. All. One little, two little, etc. Fifth Girl. Six little dollies — looked almost alive. One lost her " pin-back," and then there were but five. First Girl. Five little dollies walking by a door, One got her nose pinched and then there were four. All. One little, two little, etc. Second Girl. Four little dollies on their mamma's knee, One cried her eyes out and then there were three. ■ Third Girl. Three little dollies didn't know what to do, One tore her bows off and then there were two. All. One little, two little, etc. Fourth Girl. Two little dollies, very fond of fun. One melts her nose off and then there was one. Fifth Girl. One little dolly living all alone, Died broken-hearted and then there was none. Ten little girls who thought their joys were o'er, But Santa Glaus brought them ten dollies more ! All. One little, two little, etc. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 25 WE'LL TET. (Autumn Dialogue.) M. B. C. SLADE. [Little girl and class. ] Girl. When Spring came, calling to the flow'rs, "Come forth, there's work to do ! The blossoming for summer hours And autumn's ripening, too ; " Did any little tender plant Shrink down beneath the soil % Did any floweret sigh, " I can't I" When Summer called to toil 1 Class. Ah, no ! they said, '' We'll try, we'll try, We'll see what we can do ; We'll bud and bloom, nor ever sigh The livelong springtime through." Girl, In springtime, when before us lay The work for summer hours, There came, to cheer us on our way, As sunshine cheers the flowers, A kindly, and a welcome hand Of friends and parents dear ; Oh, could we shrink from pleasant work When these were smiling near '? Class. '' Ah, no !" we said ; " we'll try, we'll try ! We'll see what we can do ; We'll patient toil, nor ever sigh, The livelong summer through !" Girl. The flow'rs that budded in the spring Have blossomed in the sun. And autumn's garnered sheaves may sing — " The season's work is done !" 26 macaulay's dialogues toe little folks. Kind friends, our season, too, is done, Our summer's work is o'er ; We would that for each sheaf we've won, We had a hundred more ! Class. Cheered by your love, we'll try, we'll try, To see what we can do ; Begin anew, and never sigh, Autumn nor winter through. OHEISTMAS GIPTS. [For four little girls.] First Girl. What do you do at your house when Christmas eve is nigh 1 Second Girl. We stretch a line at the chimney side. And mother sees it is strongly tied ; Then hang our stockings, and go to bed. And, just as soon as our prayer is said, We wonder and guess till asleep we fall. What Santa Claus has for one and all. Then, long before daylight, we haste to pull From the line by the chimney our stockings full. And that's what we do at our house. What do you do at your house when Christmas eve is nigh 1 Third Girl. We have in the parlor a Christmas tree ; And each has his own little mystery In hanging upon the branches green — His gifts for the others, by them unseen. Then mother goes in the candles to light, And everything is so gay and bright, macauijAy's dialogues foe little folks. 27 That you ought to be there our joy to see, When we have our gifts from the Christmas tree ; And that's ^yhat we do at our house. What do you do at your house when Christmas eve is nigh 1 Fourth Girl. We hear in the evening a rousing ring ; We hurry the door to open fling, And sure as you live, with his long white hair, And his jolly red face, Santa Claus is there ! He opens his pack, and with laugh and shout, We take the presents he tosses about. Then he's off ; but just after his visit is o'er, Uncle John comes in at the other door ! And that's what we do at our house. What do you do at your house when Christmas eve is nigh 1 First Girl. We too hang up our stockings ; but mother says One thing we must do — all Christmas days — Just as sure as they come, just as long as we live. Some gifts to the poor we must always give. So a basket she fills on Christmas eve, And tells us just where our gifts to leave. Would you know how the best time at Christmas is found 7 Help Santa Claus carry his basket around ; For that's what we do at our house ! THE WELCOME. [For two 'dery little girls.] First Girl. Good people, we are glad to see So many of you here ; Pray thank them, sister dear, for me, You're older by a year. Second Girl. I'd rather you would say your part, For I've forgotten mine ; 28 MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOE TiTTTLE FOLKS. Although I learnt it all by heart, I do not know one line. First Girl. It's " Welcome ! welcome ! one and all ! " JBotJi. This ends our little speech ; But if you'll kindly on us call, We'll give a kiss to each ! {They go off throwing kisses.) THE LITTLE PHILOSOPHEE. [For two little girls. 1 Lizzie and Eleanor. Lizzie, Oh, how I wish, dear Eleanor, That you and I were flowers ; With nothing in the world to do Through all the summer hours, But just to sit down by the stream And hear the sweet birds sing — To weave our wreaths of dewy gems, And in the sunshine swing. Eleanor. The rose's cheeks are very red, The lily's white as pearl — And flowers are fair, but fairer still, A happy little girl ; Why would you be a simple flower, * Which withers in a day, Rather than an immortal soul. Which never can decay '? Lizzie. The fair flowers have no work to do. They never fret nor fuss — They do not sit the whole day thro' And study books like us ; They get no tardy marks at school, Because they stop to play ; They're idle, idle all the time. And out of doors all day. MACAUIiAY S DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 29 Eleanor, The rudeness of the common earth By blossoms is refined — But all their bloom is little worth Compared with one young mind ; By weariness we only learn How sweet it is to rest ; By love and labor purify The heart in each small breast. Lizzie. The flow'rs fulfill their Maker's will By simply being sweet ; They have no dreaded tasks to do, No lessons to repeat ; They sleep at night, they wake at morn, No hair to brush and curl — I'm sure I' d rather be a rose Than be a little girl. Eleanor. Now, yesterday you studied hard — A sweet industrious child, And when your teacher praised you so, You brightly blushed and smiled ; Your face had such a happy look, Your eyes w^ere full of light — Would you have been the idlest rose When you went home at night ? Lizzie. Well, I was happy yesterday, And very, very blest ; I do not think so deep a joy E'er thrilled a rose's breast ; But you must own, dear Eleanor, T had to win it first — AVhile flow'rs and birds are always gay, By duty never cursed. Eleanor. The flow'rs and birds their little day Flutter and sing and bloom — Then, like the dust they pass away, No life beyond the tomb ! 30 macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. But if we labor, our reward Is for eternal years — Our smiles are sweeter and more blest For winning tliem thro' tears ! THE SEASONS. EMILY CARTER. [For four little girls.] If the girls could he dressed in appropriate costumes, this dia- logue could be delivered most expressively/. Spring. I am the Spring ; with sunshine see me coming ; Birds begin to twitter ; hark ! the bees are humming : Green to the fields and hillsides, blossoms to the tree, Joy to every human heart are what I bring with me. Summer. See my wealth of flowers ! I'm the golden Summer ! Is there for the young or old a more welcome comer 1 Come and scent the new-mown grass ; by the hillside stray, And confess that only June brings the perfect day. Autumn. Mark the wreath about my head — wreath of richest flowers ; I am Autumn, and I bring mildest, happiest hoars ; In my hand a goblet see, which the grape-juice holds ; Corn and grain and precious fruits Autumn's arm enfolds. Winter. Round my head the holly-leaf, in my hand the pine ; I am Winter cold and stern ; these last flow'rs are mine I But while I am left to rule, all's not dark or sad ; Christmas comes with winter-time to make the children glad. All the Seasons. Here our offerings glad we bring, And long hfe to all we sing ! macauiiAy's dialogues fob little folks. 31 EIGHT O'CLOCK. ELLEN DENNIS. [For two little girls, Kitty and Minnie.] Enter Kitty, in a passion, Kitty. There, now ! I won't ! I won't ! Go to bed at eight o'clock '? jR^diculous ! I'm not a baby any more Hke Mmnie. I'm eight years old ; and that is old enough to be treated like a little lady. Enter Minnie, pulling a dog hy a string, Minnie, Kitty ! what do you think '? Nurse, she says I musn't tome down in titchen no more, 'cause a big bear is there, and so I went and got Benjie's 'ittle big dog and just went down 'tairs to titchen to let Benjie's dog eat up bear, and what you 'spose I saw in 'titchen '? Kitty. Why, nurse and cook eating a good supper% Minnie. No ; there was a great big man there, with wiskeys all over hees face like a buffalo-skin, and he had his wiskeys in nurse's face, and I guess he was eating her up, and so I just run up 'tairs for fear he'd eat up Benjie's dog, too. Kitty {stamping her foot). What a ninny, to be sure, you are ! But when you get as big as / am, you'll know what all that means. It means courting. Minnie. Courting 1 Papa's been a-courting all day. Kitty. Papa's been to court all day ; but that's about business. Courting is — is ^ Minnie. A man wiz wiskeys puttin' his arm 'round nurse's neck, and his wiskeys in — {a call from within, " Children !") Kitty. There she goes ! Minnie. What? Kitty. Why, nurse. Minnie. Where is she doin' 1 {another call, '^ Children !") Kitty. To pull your ears. Minnie. I'll see 'bout that. Come, Hero ! 32 macaulay's dialogues foe uttle folks. Exit, dragging dog after Tier. {Another call, '' Children, I'll pull your ears if you don't come right off to bed !") Kitt^ {mimicking). '^ I'll pull your ears if you don't come right off to bed !" Before I'd be an old maid — (I wonder who that was in the kitchen with whiskers ?) — I'd run off with a soldier, and be a widow, and wear caps, and Voice. Are you coming ? Kitty. Y-e-s ! (loudly^ Oh, dear ! was ever child so persecuted 1 To bed at eight o'clock, to be sure ! Wait until I'm ten years old, and we'll see ! {Exit.) IDLE WISHINa. MARY N. PRESCOTT. [For two little girls.'] First Girl. I wish I were a bird, To flutter in the light, To sing and play the livelong day, With no lessons to recite. Second Girl. But the bird is never idle ; She has her food to earn ; You call it play when she trills her lay ; But to know it she first must learn. First Girl. I wish I were a honey-bee. To follow my own sweet will, By wood and stream, with no long seam To sew over and over still. Second Girl. But the honey-bee's not idle ; She is learning the lesson of life — Which flowers are good for daily foo^, And which with poison rife. First Girl. I wish I were a summer wind, Among the leaves to sing ; From the buds at my feet stealing the sweet, To scatter it from my wing. MACAUIiAY's DIAIiOaUES FOR lilTTLE FOLKS, 33 Second Girl, Quite vain is your idle wishing ; For simple duties done, Sweeter far than the flowers are That blossom beneath the sun. LITTLE EED KIDINa HOOD. [For two little girls^ one to personate the grandmother,'] Enter loth, spealcing. Mary, She was indeed a pretty little creature, So meek, so modest. What a pity, madam, That one so young and innocent should fall A prey to the ravenous wolf ! Grandmother, The wolf indeed ! You've left the nursery to but little purpose If you believe a wolf could ever speak, Tho' in the time of ^ sop or before. Mary. Was't not a wolf then % I have read the story A hundred times, and heard it told — nay, told it Myself to my younger sisters, when we've shrunk Together in the sheets from very terror. And, with protecting arms each round each other, E'en sobbed ourselves to sleep. But I remember I saw the story acted on the stage, And so it was a robber, not a wolf, That met poor little Riding Hood in the wood 1 Grandmother. Nor wolf, nor robber, child. This nursery tale Contains a hidden moral. Mary. Hidden ! Nay, I'm not so young but I can spell it out. And this it is : Children, when sent on errands, Must never stop by the way to talk with wolves. Grandmother. Tut ! wolves again 7 Will you listen to me, child 1 Mary, Say on, dear grandma. 34 MACAULAY'S dialogues foe lilTTLE FOLKS. Grandmother. Thus then, dear my daughter, " In this young person culling idle flowers You see the peril that attends the maiden Who, in her walk thro' life, yields to temptation, And quits the onward path to stray aside, Allured by gaudy weeds. Mary. Poor Red Riding Hood ! Grandmother. A moral from the fiction. In a word, The wolf that you must guard against is Laoe. Mary. I thought Love was an infant ? Grandmother. The world and Love were young together, child, And innocent. Alas ! time changes all things. Ma/ry, Yet one thing, grandmamma — Something perplexes me. Grandmother. Say what, my love ; I will explain. Ma/ry. This wolf, the story goes, Deceived poor grandam first, and ate her up : What is the moral here 1 Have all our Grandams been devoured by Love ? Grandmother. Let us go in ; The air grows cool — you are a forward chit ! {Exeunt.) MOTHEEISDEAD! {For two little girls.'] Flora. I did not think, dear Bessie, The world could be so sad, Do you remember Christmas And all the fun we had 1 Bessie. Oh, yes ! I do remember We wakened in the night. For Santa Glaus we listened, And waited till the light. MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 35 Flora. Our hearts went pitti-patti, With such dehght and dread ! They'll never beat so joyfully Again, for mother's dead. Bessie, We thought we heard him coming, But covered up our heads ; It seemed so long till morning, And then we left our beds, To creep on tip-toe softly. Across the chilly floor, With " Merry Christmas, mother !" We'll tell her that no more. Flora. Oh, Bessie, I'm so lonesome ! Sometimes I watch the sky, To see if mother's looking — We'll see her by-and-bye. Bessie. Yes ; when we go to heaven, We'll see her, pet, again ; But we shall have the heartache Too often before then. Flora. In the night I wake up crying, And tremble in my bed ; I seem afraid of something When I think that mother's dead ! {Exeunt.) BOY TALK. [For four small hoys.] Bennie. When you are a man, Jamie, What 're you going to do '? Pm going to reef the topsail, And sail with a jolly crew. Jamie. Pm going to marry mother, And set up a candy-store ; 36 MACAULAY's dialogues fob lilTTLE FOLKS. And I'll sell yon boys the marbles — Twenty-two for a score. Willie. Marry your mother, goosie 1 Jamie. She's awful nice, you bet ! Willie. Tm going to marry Lulu • But she hasn't promised yet! You know our famous wood-shed 1 We'll put a stove in there ; She will bake pies and cookies In which you all shall share* We'll give a Christmas party With the pudding Lulu made, And we'll live in the wood-shed always. Jamie. My ! Won't you be afraid f Bennie. Pooh ! Stay at home forever ! Jack says that boys like me Are the ones to make brave sailors, And dare the blue, salt sea. JoTmnie^ I'm going to be a whaler^ And fling the sharp harpoon. Bennie. You mean you'll catch a whaling^ Perhaps, this afternoon ! Johnnie. Ill join an expedition, To ga with Captain Hall ; We'll spear the fat old walruses, And scala the icy wall. Jamie. Come to think, I'd rather Be a preacher, so I would ; Ma says that I may be one If I am 'dery good ! {Eacli^ derisimly .) Johnnie. Hurrah for preacher Jamie ! Bennie. Hurrah for whaler John ! Jamie. Hurrah for Doctor Willie \ Willie* Hurrah for sailor Ben I macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 37 THE MAT. [For six little girls.] * Lizzie, the May Queen; Martha, the Buttercup; Mart, the Daisy ; Alice, the Violet, Two young Ladies standing together. First young Lady. The children in our little school Have learnt the strangest play j They all imagine they are flowers, And Lizzie is the May ; But here they come, and we must go ; They love to play at will — But step aside a little way And we can see them still. Exeunt young Ladies. — Enter Mary, Martha, and Alice. Martha. Here, Alice, you stand close by me, And keep your eyes downcast ; For you're the modest violet. And you will speak the last. Enter May Queen. Mary. Oh, welcome, welcome, queenly May ! The daisy flower am I ; I kept my blossoms folded close Beneath the April sky ; But when the air grew doubly sweet With music and perfume, I knew that you had come indeed, ] And it was time to bloom. Queen. Oh, welcome, little daisy flower ! Your modest face is dear ; * The chilqlren should dress in colors resembling the flowers they person- ate. May Queen should dress in white. 38 MACAULAY's dialogues foe lilTTIiE FOLKS. There is magic in your timid smile — (turns to the Buttercup) But pray, whom have we here 7 Martha. Oh, welcome, Queen ! I wear the dress That once my mother wore ; You may remember having seen A buttercup before ; They say I'm but an idle weed, As useless as I'm gay : But there was nemr yet a flower More loyal to the May. Queen. Oh, welcome ! welcome ! well I know Your sunshine-loving race ; 'Twere sad, indeed, if I had failed To meet your honest face. •If, Alice, oil, welcome ! welcome, lovely May ! I have not much to bring I'm but the humble violet. The frailest flower of spring ; But since, before the roses bloom, It must be mine to die, Oh, give to me one gentle smile, Oh, do not pass me by ! Queen. Thrice welcome, little violet ! I love your blossoms blue ; 'Mid all the flowers of spring there's not A dearer one than you ! £Jnter Young Lady. Young Lady. Oh, welcome ! welcome Queen of May ! With garlands round your brow ! And welcome all the train of flowers ! Your mothers want you now. Eight pleasant is your childish play. And bright the spring-time hours ; But little children that are good. Are sweeter than the flowers. {Exeunt.) maoaulay's dialogues for little folks. 39 HAPPY LITTLE GIELS. [For two 'i^ery small girls. They enter hand in hand.] First Girl. We love the sunshine and the birds, And hand in hand we stray ; With gentle smiles and loving words, So happy all the day. Second Girl. The reason we so happy are, You very soon shall know ; We have a loving, kind papa, Who loves his darlings so ! First Girl. A mamma, too, whose sunny eyes Look down on us in love ; They seem just like the summer skies That shine so far above. Second Girl. And so our way is very fair — Our lives are full of glee ; And we are happy everywhere — No lighter hearts than we ! {They go out hand in hand.) BEE, OLOOE, AND BEOOM. {For three little girls. 1 Bee. Look at me ! Look at me ! I'm that very '' busy bee " Whom Doctor Watts did so approve ; Constantly I'm on the move. Gathering honey, making wax, All my energies doth tax ; If little girls would only try As industriously as I To lay up sweets for future days, They'd get wisdom, and get praise. 4:0 MAOAULAX'S DIAIjOGUES FOK TjTTTLE FOLKS. Who works as the busy bee does 1 Buz-a-buz ! Buz-a-buz ! Look at me ! Look at me ! I'm the type of industry ! Clock. Type of industry, indeed ! All winter long you sleep and feed ; Even in summer's dullest hours You lie, all night, in rocking flowers. Tm the worker !— night and day, Without food or drink or pay ; Thro' the sunshine and the storm, Winter cold, and summer warm, At the midnight's stillest time, And the morning's earliest chime, My hands are ever busy found — Days and years — a ceaseless round — While you lie dreaming on your back. Tick-a-tack ! Tick-a-tack ! Self-loving bee, in me you see A striking type of industry ! Broom, It gives one's ears a nervous shock To hear that prating dull old clock, Who hasn't stirred a foot for years, Put on such egotistic airs. Who has such hard times as the broom 1 On the jump from room to room ; Up and down, and o'er and o'er Every inch of wall and floor. I scarcely in the corner go To rest myself an hour or so. When some one drags me out again To brush the crumbs or beat the men / Who " kicks up such a dust " as I ? And would you know the reason why 1 I'm woman's weapon, and her friend, Ready a helping hand to lend. macaulay's dialogues for uttle folks. So many calls are made on me, I'm qwite worn out^ as you may see ; Sweep-a-swop ! Sweep-a-swop ! I always go upon the hop ; Stand-still clock, and boasting bee, Tm the type of industry ! Bee. Hum ! hum ! did you ever 1 hum ! To what a pass the world has come ! Things must be waxing worse, when bees Are flouted by such things as these ! Cloch. Tick-a-tack ! I'll tell the town The broom has tried to run me down I Such siceeping statements come with grace From that old stick — and to my face ! Broom, Oh ! oh ! I may be an old stick, But then I never go on tick! So just loind up ! your sentiments Can have no weight with men of sense ! All know you for a Tiard old case I Bee. Hum ! hum ! I'd better leave this place ; That broom throws dust in people's eyes ; The clock's a vain, pretentious thing. Good-bye, my friends, I'm on the wing ; Birds and blossoms welcome me, Type of joy and industry I {Exeunt.') 41 PAITH, HOPE, AND OHAEITT. [For three little girls.] Faith. I live in meek and gentle hearts, I breathe in humble prayers ; I stand beside the sick man's bed — I soothe the poor man's cares ; 4:2 macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. And I am constant until death — From heaven I came, my name is Faith ! Hope. I am a fair and glittering shape, For ever fluttering light ; On rainbow wings, with diamond dyes To make the future bright : Men could not bear the sunlight gone, Did Hope not paint the coming dawn. Charity. I am the child of heavenly love ; The slanderous pass me by ; I walk with truth and constancy, But malice shuns my eye. Oh, what would selfish mortals be, Did I not whisper Charity 1 Faith. When Hope's brief rainbow melts away, I point to heaven's immortal day ! Hope. Thou dost ; but did no gleam of mine Across Life's cloudy weather shine, How cold, how drear would all things seem Bereft of Hope's illusive beam ! Charity. Sweet sisters, God has made us all To do His holy will ; Each excellent, as He has planned, Each good, but differing still. May Faith still teach of things unseen, And Hope's bright iris smile between The earth and sky ; And by-and-bye. When earth is done And heaven won, When mortals have immortal grown, May we still meet around the throne. All. Faith, Hope and Charity ! may we These children's guardian angels be, To watch them thro' this life, and wait To lead them thro' the Eternal Gate ! {Exeunt.) MACAULAX'S DIALOGrES FOE lilTTUE FOLKS. 43 THE DAYS OF TEE WEEE. ELSIE BEE. [A recitation for the very youngest class. Sunday may hold a hook ; Monday a toy tub ; Tuesday a toy flat-iron ; Wed- nesday a cooky and saucer pie ; Thursday may icear a tiny thimble and be provided icith some patch iDork or other sewing ; Friday may carry a. small broom or duster; and Saturday a tiny pail. The children shoidd be taught to make appropriate gestures to display th^se implements.] Sunday, Sunday's the first day^ and I like it, too ; For that day mamma is not busy, And can tell pretty stories that are true, Or read nice books to me and Lizzie. In Sunday-school I must not play, Nor once forget that Sunday is GodJs day, Monday. The next day's Monday. In my little tub My mamma lets me dolly's dresses rub ; And I can help her too — 'tis good as play To hand the pins to her on icasMng day. Tuesday. The third day's Tuesday, and I always try To make my dolly's dresses smooth and dry. I can help mamma too ; my little flat Can iron the handkerchiefs and things like that. To help my mamma iron is good as play. Although I burned my arm last ironing day. {shoics the burn.) Wednesday. The fourth day's "Wednesday — mamma's day to bake, And I can help her by bringing chips and wood. Sometimes she lets me help her stir the cake, Or cut out cookies ; and when I am good She makes some little pies for me to play Tea-party with my doll, on baking day. Thursday. The fifth day's Thursday. Mamma mends the clothes, She darns the stockings, and long rips she sews. 44 macaulay's dialogues fob little folks. She teaches me to thread the needle's eye ; Sometimes to sew on buttons lets me try ; I can't do much — but then I always play That I help mamma " lots " on mending day, Friday. The sixth day's Friday. Mamma sweeps up stairs. She says I help by dusting oiF the chairs ; And in my baby-house I always play That it needs cleaning up, on sweeping day. Saturday. The seventh day's Saturday — the last one. I like to go to school ; but then It's fun To have one day to visit grandma in, Or, these fine days, to go blackberrying. I run on errands some, but mostly play Fills up the hours of the nice holiday. All. Seven days there are which we can tell, And we will try to spend them well ; We'll help mamma as well as play ; Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Thursday, Friday, Saturday. A HOPELESS CASE. [For two little girls.'] Mary. Little mischief Lizzy, Don't your head grow dizzy With your romping and shouting and fun 1 Don't you think, Lizzy, If you'd turn good and busy, That you'd feel just as happy in the long run ? Lizzy. Happy 1 Oh, my, no ! Mary, I once tried to be good, very; 1 i MACAULAY'S dialogues POR LITTIiE FOLKS. 45 But my tongue wouldn't rest nor my fingers be still. I sat a whole long hour, Trying to look sick and sour, But do all I would, I couldn't be ill' Mary. Ah, mischief that you are, dear, A time must come, I fear, When all now so gay will grow sober and calm ; Then do try and curb yourself, Dancing, daring little elf ! Try to think soberly one day if you can. Lizzy. One whole day soberly f {spoken slowly) Twelve great big hours to be Still as a mouse, and sober as an owl ? I'll — I'll — {looking archly) think about it, But guess you may doubt it, For my face was not made for a frown or a scowl. {Exeunt.) PEIDE. [For two little girls, Dot and Kitty.] Dot enters, dragging haby -carriage with doll in it, andj rubbing her eyes loith her flst. Dot. To think that she should have had that nasty little Gibbs girl there ! My mamma said that I could spend the afternoon with Kitty, and so I would, but she went and invited that Gibbs girl, because she was a poor little girl. I'll go right home and tell mother. Enter Kitty. ) Kitty. What are you going home for ? Dot. 'Cause you invited that nasty Gibbs girl to play with me. Kitty. Nasty 1 Why, she's a nice little girl, I am sure. Dot. Nice 1 Why, she's poor, and lives in a little house and wears common clothes, and her doll was a made-up one— just to 46 MACATJIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. think ! And her doll's wagon was a box with spool-blocks for wheels, that her little brother had made. Kitty. Well, that's so, I s'pose, but that's no reason for you saying she's nasty. Poor people ain't anymore nasty than the rich ones — so there now ! Dot. Kitty Ward, I'm surprised ! I'll never — never play with you again ! Kitty. I don't want you to, so there now, if you say Fanny Gibbs is nasty. She's poor, but she's good and sweet as can be — mamma says so — and her papa works for my papa in the factory, doing exactly what my papa used to do, so he says, when he was poor. Dot. Your papa % Was he ever poor, and had he to work for a living % Kitty. Yes, indeed ! And so did your papa and your mamma too. Dot. Kitty Ward, you are such a story-teller. My papa and mamma poor, and had to work, indeed ! [draws herself up dis- dainfully) I'll just tell my mamma, and she'll tell your mamma too, and have you punished, so I will. Kitty. Why, it was my mamma told me so. Dot. My mamma never tells me stories like your mamma does. I didn't think she was ever poor and had to work, nor papa either. I'm sure if I had known I wouldn't have treated Fanny Gibbs so. Kit. Will you come back and make it up and play with us 1 Dot. I s'pose I ought to. But say, Kitty, is everybody poor once in their lives 7 Did all the rich people have to work once ? Kit. To be sure they did, or how could they have become rich 1 Dot. Why, by getting it, to be sure, without work 1 Kit. Nice riches that is ! It's the people with that, kind of riches that talk about Aristocracy, and put on airs and turn up their noses at the poor. Papa says old Satan has got a mortgage on such people. Dot. Oh, then I'm so glad my papa worked for his ; and I'll always be proud to say he did, and will like girls whose papas are poor. Old Satan shan't call me one of his little girls. Kit. Nice girl ! (kissing Dot) Now we'll have a splendid time. {Clasping hamds. They retire,) MACAULAY'S dialogues for LITTIiE FOLKS. 47 THE PIGUEES. [For nine little girls. ] First Girl. I am number One The first to come, And very useful too, in every sum. Second Girl. I come to you As number Two, And two just makes a pair ; But the minister makes two folks one, I know just how that is done ; Once I was there ! Third Girl. Now you see Number three ; The " curly " letter some call me ! Fourth Girl. I take the floor As number Four, Than number Three I'm just one more. Fifth Girl. I'm number Five, So I'm alive ; Just old enough to be no older. Five fingers have I on each hand, And twice five toes on which to stand To reach my papa's shoulder. Sixth Girl. Number Sixth Would be in a fix If she forgot her part ; But that won't be For you shall see That she knows it all by heart. Seventh Girl. Seven is the mystic number, Well beloved by God and men. On the seventh day God rested. And ordained the Sabbath then. 48 MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. Eighth Girl, When clouds rained down and skies were dark, Eight living souls went into the ark. Ninth Girl. Just listen to me, and, unless logic fails, I'll prove to you that each cat has nine tails. No cat has eight tails ; who doesn't know that 1 One tail more than no cat's tail has each limng cat j Now eight tails that no cat has, plus this one tail more, Will make just nine good tails, if you count them o'er. I hope I've explained this to you quite clear, That every cat has just nine tails, my dear. All. Though we're very little figures, yet great worth have we. And ain't we as pretty figures as one would wish to see 7 (All retire,) CAN AND OAN'T. [For two little hoys.'] First Boy. Of all the words that we may hear. The poorest one is " can't !'' I'll never say it — ^never fear, If strength kind Heaven will grant. Second Boy, '' I can't " — it makes a coward sure Of every mortal man ; While youth and hope with us endure, Boldly we'll say, '' I can !" First Boy. If on Life's battle-field we'd all The flag of victory plant. Pass boldly on, both great and small. And never say " I can't !" Second Boy, No hero ever spoke the word. Since first the world began ; • But there's success in that one word- That little word, '' I can !" MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 49 EXEEOISE. [For four boys,] [Bach occupation is to be imitated by all during the speaking of each stanza.] First Boy. Stitch, stitch, stitch, the shoemakers go, Sitting together, all in a row. Driving the pegs, paring the shoe ; Oh, what funny things does the shoemaker do ! Second Boy. Clang, clang, clang, the hammers go ; See the brave blacksmiths all in a row, Fihng the steel, driving the shoe ; Oh, what funny things does the blacksmith do ! Third Boy. Up and down the wood sawyers go, Having their saw-bucks all in a row. Piling the sticks, tightly and true ; Oh, what funny things does the wood-sawyer do ! Fourth Boy. In and out the shuttles fly. See the good weavers hands nimbly ply, Sending their spools through and through ; Oh, what funny things does the weaver do ! BABY-LAND. GEORGE COOPER. [For two girls.] First Girl. How many miles to baby-land 1 Second Girl. Any one can tell ; Up one flight To your right ; Please to ring the bell. 50 MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. First Girl. What can you see in baby-land % Second Girl. Little folks in white — Downy heads Cradle-beds, Faces pure and bright. First Girl. AVhat do they do in baby-land 1 Second Girl. Dream and wake and play, Laugh and crow, Shout and grow ; Jolly times have they ! First Girl. What do they say in baby-land 1 Second Girl. Why, the oddest things ; Might as well Try to tell What a birdie sings ! First Girl. Who is the queen of baby-land 1 Second Girl. Mother, kind and sweet ; And her love, Born above. Guides the little feet. HUKET ALONG! [For four little girls.} First Girl. Spring ! spring ! Over the mountains, Why don't you hurry along ? I want you to breathe where the white snowdrift lingers ; I want you to untie the brooks with your fingers ; I want you to wake up the slumbering fountains. Spring ! spring ! Over the mountains, Why don't you hurry along ? MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 51 Second Girl. Birds ! birds ! far away flying ! Why don't you hurry along '? I want you to wake me at dawn with your singing ; I want the air full of your jubilant ringing ; I want to see blue-bird and robin home hieing, Birds ! birds ! far away flying, Why don't you hurry along 1 Third Girl, Flowers ! flowers ! silently sleeping, Why don't you hurry along '? I want to see snowdrop, and crocus, and lily. And beautiful iris and daffy-downdilly ; Too long in your underground beds you are keeping. Flowers ! flowers ! silently sleeping, Why don't you hurry along % Fourth Girl. Joy ! joy ! hearing us calling, Soon they will hurry along ! The spring will soon set all the brooklets a-flowing ; The birdies to singing, the blossoms a- growing ; Soon, all o'er the land, her fair feet shall be falling. Joy • joy ! hearing us calling. Soon they will hurry along ! WELCOME. [For Four Boys.] First Boy. Mr. Superintendent, We give you a cordial welcome ! You are the man who best can tell If Ave have worked and studied well ; And I am the boy with my best bow, To thank you for your presence now I 62 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Second Boy, Mr. School Committee, We give you a cordial welcome ! We know your law has made a rule That once a month you visit our school ; Ten visits a year I but my best bow Shall thank you for your presence, now 1 Third Boy. Friends and fathers and mothers, We give you a cordial welcome ! Of course, a great many times, this year, You have visited us, our school to cheer ! But more than ever, with my best bow, I thank you for your presence now ! Fourth Boy. Teachers and fellow-scholars, We've given our cordial welcome ! Now let us try to do our best. So fathers and mothers and all the rest, May say to us, with their best bow, We thank you for our presence now 1 GOING TO SCHOOL [For four children.'] First Two. Little folks, little folks, where are you straying, . Smiling so happy and dressed neat and fair '? Second Two. Oh, don't you hear what the school bells are saying 1 " Come to school ! come to school ! " we're going there. First Two. Little folks, little folks, why don't you gather Daisies and buttercups bright by the way 1 Second Two. Oh, the time hastens, and we would much rather Be there in season than loitering stay. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 53 First Two. Little folks, little folks, what are you bringing, • Holding so careful and keeping so neat 1 Second Two, These are the books for our lessons and singing, Pleasant the task and the tones bright and sweet. First Two. Little folks, little folks, say, can another Join you, and learn all the things that you know *? Second Two. Oh, yes, come with us, like sister and brother, We shall be glad if to school you will go. First Two. Little folks, little folks, say, will your teachers Willingly let us the lessons begin 7 Second Two. See, here they are, and the smiles on their features Say, " Dear new scholars, we welcome you in! " THE SHAEK. [For eight hoys.'] First Boy. Oh, blithe and merrily sang the shark, As he sat on the house-top high, A-cleaning his boots and smoking cheroots. With a single glass in his eye. Second Boy. With Martin & Day he polished away, And a smile on his face did glow. While merry and bold the chorus he trolled Of '' Gobble-em-upsky ho !" Tliird Boy. He sang so loud he astonished the crowd Which gathered from far and near, For they said, '' Such a sound in the country round We never, no, never did hear." 54 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Fourth Boy. He sang of the ships he'd eaten hke chips. In the pahny days of his youth ; And he added, " If you don't beheve it is true, Pray examine my wisdom tooth ! " Fifth Boy. He sang of the whales who'd have given their tails For a glance of his raven eye ; And the swordfish too, who their weapons drew, And vowed for his sake they would die. Sixth Boy. He sang about wrecks and hurricane decks, And the mariner's perils and pains, Till every man's blood upon end it stood, And their hair ran cold in their veins. Se'denth Boy. But blithe as a lark this merry old shark Sat on the sloping roof; Though he said, " It is queer that no one draws near To examine my wisdom tooth ! " Eighth Boy. He carolled away by night and by day. Until he made every one ill ; And I'll wager a crown that unless he*s come down, He is probably carolling still ! THE ANGELS' LADDER [For two girls.'] First Gir^ If there were a ladder, sister, Between the earth and sky, As in the days of the Bible, I would bid you all good-bye, And go through every country, And search from town to town. Till I had found the ladder With angels coming down. Then I would wait, quite softly. Beside the lowest round, MACAUIiAY's DIAIiOGUES FOR LITTI^ FOT.KS. 55 Till the sweetest-looking angel Had stepped upon the ground ; I would pull his dazzling garment, And speak out very plain : " Will you take me, please, to heaven When you go back again 1 " Second Girl. Ah, darling, gentle sister, You need not wander so To find the golden ladder Where angels come and go. Wherever gentle kindness Or pitying love abounds. There is the wondrous ladder With angels on the rounds. THE CHOICE. [For four little girls.] First Girl. I would not be a leaf, oh, no, To wait for April winds to blow Before I would have power to grow ; I would not be a leaf, to lose The red and gold of autumn's hues, And drop when giddy winds should choose. Second Girl. I would not be a brood that strays Through pastures and sweet hidden ways, And nowhere loiters or delays, — A brook that hurries here and there, Whether the day be foul or fair, Till caught within the frost's white snare. Third Girl. I would not be a bird that weaves Her dainty nest beneath the leaves, And has no peace for fear of thieves ; I would not be a bird to trill And teach my fledglings with a will, - And find some day the nest quite still. 56 MACAULAY's dialogues fob lilTTIiE FOLKS, FourtJi Girl. I would not be a bee to roam, Seeking the sweetness far from home With which to fill my honey-comb ; Nor would I be a red rose, born With many a hidden cruel thorn, Where children's fingers might be torn. All, No ; each of us would choose to be A little child at mother's knee, Of years that number one, two, three, — Oh, that is far the best to be ! QUEER [For two boys.] First Boy. The queerest thing in all this world, I think, Is that a man will sometimes go and drink. Second Boy. What ! drink to take his senses all away 1 It is an awful queer thing I do say. First Boy. Do you suppose, when God made me to walk so straight, {walks across the stage very straight) That I will ever go this shambling sort of gait 1 {reels and stumbles across the stage.) Second Boy. Do you suppose, when Grod gave me a voice to speak so clear, M That I will mumble up my words, and stumble, stumble ^ here % (stumbles across stage and stammers out the words thus) : Th-th-at I w-w-ill m-mumble up m-m-y words, etc. And stumble, stumble there 1 And do you think I'd strike my wife (strikes an imaginary person) And make her tremble, when she sees me, for her life '? macaulay's dialogues for little folks 57 First Boy. No, ladies, I'll give her cheek a sweet caress, {kisses an im- aginary person) Second Boy. I'll say, " Let's go down town, my dear, and pick you out a dress !" COLD ¥ATEE. LEE H. DEE. [For three little Girls.] First Girl. Cold water ! cold water I Oh, that is the drink ! How strange and how foolish That any should think That whiskey or brandy That dram-keepers sell. Is good as the water We get from the well ! Second Girl. Cold water ! cold water ! We draw it to-day ; 'Tis free as the breezes — We drink without pay. It never makes drunkards — It's pure as can be ; Oh, this is the beverage For you and for me. Third Girl. Cold water ! cold water ! Ye drunkards take heed ! Cold water ! cold water Is all that you need To drink when you're thirsty; Oh, drink and be free I Cold water's the beverage For you and for me. 58 MACAULAY's dialogues for TiTTTLE FOLKS. All. Cold water ! cold water ! Oh, that is the drink ! How strange and how foolish That any should think That whiskey or brandy That dram-keepers sell, Is good as the water We draw from the well ! THE TOUTHPUL BAND. CHARLES H. GABRIEL. [For five boys.] First Boy, We're a band of youthful pilgrims, Travelling to a brighter land, Where the stream of life is flowing, Where the shining angels stand. Second Boy. All the way we're gladly singing. While our Leader's steps we trace ; Though the way be dark with sorrow, Still we see His smiling face. Third Boy, We will follow still our Shepherd ; He will guide us on our way; Though our feet may oft grow weary, Jesus' love will light our day. Fourth Boy. Well He loves the little children — Just such little ones as we ; If we're good he's always with us, And will make us glad and free. Fifth Boy. When our feet have grown a- weary, And our steps are faint and slow. Then His arm is thrown around us, And rejoicing on we go. MACATJLAY's dialogues for LITTIiE FOLKS. 59 All. Fast our journey's end grows nearer, Every day we're nearer home ; Soon the day of rest is coming, Then we never more shall roam. THE LITTLE WATCHMEN. GEORGE COOPER. [For four hoys,] First Boy. Watching for the golden chance To do a kindly deed ; Watching, with a loving glance, To help a brother's need. Second Boy. Watching for the paths of right. That we may walk therein ; Watching still, with all our might, That we may conquer sin. Third Boy. Watching that no selfish thought Shall blight our; after days ; Watching that each task is wrought With bright and steadfast gaze. Fourth Boy. Watching, that no duty here May pass us by undone ; AU» Watching till the dawn is near, And yonder heaven is won ! THE DEUNZAED'S FATE. PERRY C. ELLIS. [For four hoys.} First Boy. The drunkard boy begins on wine - At home, each day when he would dine 60 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. But as he likes it more and more, He drinks much harder than before. Second Boy. Then very soon he grows quite bad ; His friends all say, " don't do so, lad !" But as he likes it more and more, He now drinks beer, as wine before. TJiird Boy. But as he thinks it is no sin, To drink much more he does begin : But why not water from the brook ? Better, far better this he took. Fourth Boy. Now he drinks both wine and beer, And whiskey too he does not fear ; But soon the best of life is past, He's caught and put in jail at last ! SWEETEST. GEORGE COOPER. [For six little girls.'] First Girl. Tell me what's the sweetest sound The world has ever heard '? Second Girl. Is it the lisp of a silver brook 1 — The note of a happy bird '? Third Girl. Is it the stir of the trembling leaves That whisper to themselves 7 Fourth Girl. Is it the bleat of the pretty sheep 1 — The laugh of the woodland elves '? Fifth Girl. Is it the tinkle, soft and low, Of the rippling summer rain 7 Sixth Girl. Is it the silken rustling heard In the fields of yellow grain 1 MACAHLAY'S dialogues foe LITTIiE FOLKS. 61 Mrst Girl. Can't you guess the sweetest sound '? At home is what you seek : Why, it's the first wee, loving word We hear the baby speak ! THE NEW BOTflfET. [For four girls.'] First Grirl, A foolish little maiden Bought a foolish little bonnet, With a ribbon and a feather, And a bit of lace upon it ; And that the other maidens Of the little tow^n might know it, She thought she'd go to meeting The next Sunday, just to show it. Second Girl, But though the little bonnet Was scarce larger than a dime, The getting of it settled Proved to be a work of time ; So, when 'twas fairly tied, All the bells had stopped ringing, And when she came to meeting, Sure enough, the folks w^ere singing. TJiird Girl. So this foolish little maiden Stood and waited at the door ; And she shook her ruffles out behind. And smoothed them down before. ^ ^'Halleluia! Halleluia I" Sang the choir above her head ; " Hardly knew you \ Hardly knew you !'* Were the words she thought they said. Fourth Girl. And she would not wait to listen - To the sermon or the prayer, 62 macaulay's dialogues por little folks. But pattered down the silent street And hurried up the stair, Till she reached her little bureau, And in a bandbox on it She hid from every prying eye That foolish little bonnet. HIPPITY-HOP! [For six hoys or girls, with appropriate action.] First, Hippity-hoppity-ho, This way, that way, thus, and so ; That's the way we children go — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! Second. Joe and Charley, Belle and Kate, Hippity-hoppity down to the gate. Where they met a jolly mate — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! Ihird. Charley hopped across the road. Just like any hopping- toad In the very funniest mode — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! Fourth. Let us try a hopping-race ! Quick, and hop with dainty grace ; Now set off with a hopping-pace — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! Fifth. The boys thought sure they'd beat the girls, Bothered so with strings and curls ; So put in some extra whirls — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! Sixth. Charlej^ fell and bumped his nose ; All of us we tore our clothes ; And we hoppers stubbed our toes — Hippity-hoppity-ho ! {They hop off.) MACAUIjAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOE LTrTIiE FOLKS. 63 OTJE ALMANAC. GEORGE COOPER. [For seven little girls.] First Girl. Monday to wash all the dolly's clothes, Lots to be done, as you may suppose. Second Girl. Tuesday to iron and put away ; That takes a body the livelong day. Third Girl. Wednesday to darn, and to fix, and mend — Plenty of sewing, you may depend. Fourth GirL Thursday, if shiny, we visiting go ; Then we are dressed in our best, you know. Fyth Girl. Friday — Oh ! then we go out to shop ; Once you get out it is hard to stop. Sixth Girl. Saturday, polish and scrub and bake ; Tired out — ^hardly can keep awake. Seventh Girl. Sunday — oh ! that day, of all, is the best ; Glad when it's here, for we take our rest. All together. Fifty-two weeks to make up the year ; But all the year round to love every one here. WHAT WE LOVE. [For four girls or bo7/s.] First. 1 love the spring, the gentle spring, When the warm south breezes blow- When the pretty flowers grow. Second. I love the pleasant summer hours When the earth is glad and bright, And butterflies with painted wings - Are sporting in the light. 64: macaulay's dialogues fob little folks. Third, The autumn months are dear to me. The harvests of the year ; I love to see the loaded trees, And the reaper's song to hear. Fourth. I love the cheerful winter best — ^ I love the frost and snow ; % On the slippery ice w^ith sled or skates, How merrily we go. All together. We love the seasons in their turn, For each is full of joy, When books, and work, and healthful play, Our childhood's days employ. WELCOME. [For four hoys and the school. 1 First Boy. Kind friends, we bid you welcome here, With heart and song we greet you ; With right good cheer in this place so dear We're happy now to meet you. School, Then welcome, welcome here to-day, We give you kindly greeting ; For happy are we each face to see In this our joyous meeting. Second Boy. Our parents dear, your deeds of love Our lives with joy are filling ; Oh, may they move our hearts to prove To you both true and willing. School. Then welcome, etc. Third Boy. We greet these friends, both old and new, We know they're kind and loving. We would they knew how kind and true The gratitude they're proving. School, Then welcome, etc. macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 65 Fourth Boy. As hearts and voices here shall blend. In thanks for mercies given, For each kind friend there shall ascend A fervent prayer to heaven. School. Then welcome, etc. THE EAOE. [For four hoys.'] First Boy. A frog, a crab, and a limpsy eel Agreed to run a race ; The frog leaped so far he lost his way, And tmnbled on his face. Second Boy. The crab went well, but quite forgot To go ahead as he went ; And so crawled backward every step, On winning the race intent. Third Boy. And the limpsy eel he curled and curled, And waved to left and right, Till the crab came backing the other way. And the frog jumped past them quite. Fourth Boy, But when last I looked, the limpsy eel Was curling himself apace. The frog had tangled his two hind legs, And the crab had won the race ! LITTLE BLUEBEAED. [For a hoy and girl, Billy and Blossom.] Blossom. Billy, le's — le's — le's play Boobeard ! You have all the wives, and I marry you, and you say, " Now, Blossie, don't you look in 'at room ! " And I do, and I get something on the key, and you come home — oo ! oo ! {a long groan signifyijig ter- ror.) 66 maoaulay's dialogues for little folks. Billy. Well ? {submissively.') Blossom. Come on then ! Billy {still submissively, with hands folded behind him). Well 1 Blossom. Oh, it'll be such fun ! {rushing about excitedly) Put on this hat, Billy, {picks up an old wool hat and puts it on Billy's head ; pulls his hair through hole in the top, and crowns it with goose feathers) And you must have boo whiskeys ? Billy. I don't want 'em. Blossom {approaching him with blue chalk). But, Billy, you must have 'em. {chalks his face until the lower part is quite marked with blue) Now, Billy, I'll go live in this corner, and you must come and ask me if I'll marry you. {sits on a stool in one corner, and sews very busily with a pin. Billy enters in the spirit of the part, mounts astride a chair, and gallops over the floor towards Blossom.) Billy. Will you marry me ? {shouting.) Blossom. Now, Billy, you ought to get off the horse, and come in the house. I won't marry you if you hollo so loud. {Billy dis- mounts aud stands beside her, with his whip trailing on the ground behind him.) Blossom {rising, bowing, and giving him her hand). Why, good morning, Mr. Boobeard. How are your wives this morning 7 Billy. I haven't any wives. I comed to get you. Blossom. Well, I will marry you. Now, le's play we are mar- ried, Billy. You must get a carriage and take me home, {they both busy themselves. Billy turns doion a chair, sets two old boots for horses, and seats himself behind the horses, whip in hand. Blossom puts on an old bonnet wrong side before, takes a basket on her arm, and wraps up a boot-joHtk, which she carries. She seats herself behind Billy ; he whips the boots and they jog the chairs.) Billy. Ho ! Get out, Blissis Boobeard. This is my house. I want my supper ! Blossom {alighting and toppling over with her burdens). I don't frink you are very polite, Mr. Boobeard. You ought to help me out of the carriage ! Now, Billy, you must give me the key, and say, " Missis Boobeard, I am going to drive the horses to my stable, and you musn't look in the room where my wives are." MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 67 Billy. I haven't got the key. Blossom {stamping her foot impatiently). Billy Boobeard, if you don't get the key this very minute I shan't play, and I'll go down stairs. Billy. Well, here's a nutmeg grater. {Jianding it) You can un- lock the door with that. Git up ! hi ! go 'long ! {driving horses. Blossom takes the grater, and, with bundle and basket still in her arms, marches to one side, apparently unlocks a door, and looks out.) Billy {still whipping and driving). Go 'long ! get up ! gee I hi! Blossom. — h ! {exclamation of astonishment.) Billy [whipping hoots furiously). Go 'long ! Blossom. Now, Billy, you come in. {Billy alights, stables his boots beside the bureau, and approaches her.) Blossom. You must say, " What's that on the key, Missis Boo- beard]" Billy {invigorated by rapid driving, snatches nutmeg grater and shouts) . What you got on my key ] Blossom. I guess it's rust, {approaches and looks anxiously at grater with him.) Billy. No, 'tain't ; it's nutmeg, {licks it.) Blossom {half crying). Now, Billy, you don't play right at all. You ought to pull my hair, and kill me, and — {Billy makes a show of pounding her. They make a great noise, overturn chair s^ etc. Tableau : both sit on the floor opposite each other , rubbing fists in their eyes. ) Blossom. I don't like you ! BUly. I don't like you ! Blossom. You hurted me ! Billy. Well, you told me to. Blossom. I'll tell my mamma you pulled my hair. Billy. I'll tell my mamma you put boo whiskeys on my face. Blossom {after some hesitation). That wasn't a nice play, Billy. Billy. No. {edging nearer.) Blossom. I ain't Missis Boobeard now. {looks slyly at Billy be- hind her apron.) Billy {rubbing chalk off his face). And I ain't Boobeard. 68 MACAULAY'S dialogues foe niTTIiE FOLKS. {creeps up to 7ier side) I'm sorry I hurted you. I'll give you my flossypede. Blossom. I like you, Billy. Billy. I like you, Biossie. {Mothers voice heard in distance down stairs^ '' Children, what was that noise I heard upstairs ? ") Both. We were playing Boobeard ; but we'll never, never do so any more. {Exeunt.) TET-KEEP TETIITG. [For four hoys and the class. First Boy. Have your efforts proved in vain % Do not sink to earth again ; All. Ilvj — keep trying ! First Boy. They who yield can nothing do — A feather's weight will break them through ; All. Try — keep trying ! First Boy. On yourself alone relying, try — keep trying ! Second Boy. Falter not, but upward rise, Put forth all your energies ; All. Try — keep trying ! Second Boy. Every step that you progress Will make your future effort less ; All. Try — keep trying ! Second Boy. On the truth and God relying, You will conquer ; try — keep trying ! Tliird Boy. Ponderous barriers you may meet, But against them bravely beat ; All. Try — keep trying ! Third Boy. Naught should turn you from the track, Or drive you from your purpose back : All. Try — keep trying ! i macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 69 Third Boy, On yourself alone relying, You will conquer, try — keep trying ! Fourth Boy. You will conquer if you try — Win the good before you die ; All. Try — keep trying ! Fourth Boy. Remember — nothing is so true As they who dare will ever do ; All. Try — keep on trying I Fourth Boy, On yourself and God relying You will conquer ; All, Try — keep trying ! WAKE. GEORGE COOPER. \FoT a class.] *• Wak3 I'* says the sunshine, " 'tis time to get up ! Wake, pretty daisy, and sweet buttercup ; Why, you've been sleeping the whole winter long — Hark ! don't you hear 1 that's the blue-bird's first song." *' Wake !" says the squirrel, ''the snow is all past, Now we can peep through our windows at last." "Wake I" says the turtle, "my good brother mole, Come, let us dig ourselves out of this hole !" " Wake !" call the streamlets, "we've lain here so still, Now we must all go to work with a will." " Wake !" sings the warm breeze, " and you, willow-tree, Put on your robe, in a twinkling, for me." " Wake !" breathes the air from the blue vault above. Wake ! for the world is all beauty and love ; AVake ! little children, so merry and dear, What would the spring be, if you were not here 1 70 MACAULAY S DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. UP AND mim. [For four boys.] First Boy. Boys, be up and doing, For the day's begun ; Soon will come the moontide, Then the set of sun ; At your task toil bravely • Till your work is done. Second Boy. Let your hands be busy In some useful way ; Don't neglect your study — Don't forget your play ; For each there's time enough Every blessed day. Third Boy. You will soon be men, boys, Soon will have to take The places of your fathers ; Fill them for their sake, And in all that's noble Pray be wide awake. Fourth Boy. Boys, be kind and friendly, Lend a helping hand To the weak and feeble. Till alone they stand ; And in loving others Fulfill God's command. All, Don't be mean and selfish, Stoop not to deceit ; In all things be manly. Life will then be sweet, And Death's coming find you With your work complete. MAOAULAY*S DIALOGUES FOR UTTIiE FOLKS, 71 LOVE ONE ANOTHER [For a class, in concert.] We will love one another ; for God loves to see Little brothers and sisters agree ; A cross, angry word, a thought that's unkind, Should not come from our lips, should not dwell on our mind. We will love one another ; when one has done wrong, We'll not go on with our play or our song ; How could we be merry or playful or glad, When a brother or sister is naughty or sad 1 We will love one another ; the day may soon come When we shall not all live in our dear happy home ; Or perhaps we may die, 'twould be sad then, indeed. To think while he lived that he had not agreed. We will love one another, for how can we be Fit to live with our God, if we do not agree 1 There are no angry words, thoughts, nor tempers above, For Jesus is there — and God's own name is love. SIPPITT-SUP ! [For four girls.] Firgt Girl. Sippity-sup ! sippity-sup ! Bread and milk from a china cup ; Bread and milk from a bright silver spoon Made of a piece of the bright silver moon ! Sippity-sup, sippity-sup ! Sippity, sippity-sup ! Second Girl. Dippity-dash 1 dippity-^dash ! Wash his face with a merry splash I 72 MACAtriiAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTIiE FOLKS. Polish it well, with a nice towel fine, ^ Oh, how his eyes and his red cheeks will shine 1 ^ Dippity-dash ! dippity-dash ! Dippity, dippity dash ! Third Girl. Rippity-rip ! rippity-rip ! Untie his strings with a pull and a slip, Down go his petticoats on to the ground, And away now he dances around and around ! Rippity-rip, rippity-rip ! Rippity, rippity rip ! Fourth Girl. Trittery-trot ! trittery-trot ! Off, off he-goes to his pretty cot ; Where he falls fast asleep with a sweet little song, Where the angels watch over him all night long ! Trittery-trot ! trittery trot ! Trittery, trittery trot ! THE QUEEN OP THE OEOEY ISLANDS. [For five girls.] First Girl. Oh, the queen of the Orkney Islands, She's travelling o'er the sea ; She's bringing a cuttle-fish with her, To play with my dolly and me. Second Girl. Oh, his head is three miles long, ^ears, His tail is three miles short, And when he goes out he wriggles his snout In a way that no cuttle-fish ought. Third Girl. Oh, the queen of the Orkney Islands, She rides on a sea-green whale. He takes her a mile with an elegant smile At every flip of his tail. MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 73 Fourth Girl. Oh, the queen of the Orkney Islands, She dresses in wonderful taste ; The sea-s*erpent coils, all painted in oils, Around her beeyutiful waist. Fifth Girl. Oh, her gown is made of the green sea-kale, And, though she knows nothing of feet, She can manage her train with an air of disdain, In a way that is perfectly sweet. All. Oh, the queen of the Orkney Islands, She's travelling over the main ; So we'll hire a hack and send her right back To her beautiful islands again. WHAT IS THEMATTEE? [For foiir hoys.] First Boy. What is the matter 1 what is the matter 1 Now, what is the matter with Joe 1 How sullen he looks ! how he pouts at his books Please tell me if this is not so. Second Boy, He doesn't like study ! he doesn't like study ! He doesn't like study at all ; He'd rather go off with idle Bill OofF, And play with his bat and his ball. Tliird Boy. He doesn't like spelling ! he doesn't like spelling ! He hardly knows how to spell goat ; But be takes great delight in flying a kite, Or going to fish from a boat. Fourth Boy. He doesn't like grammar ! he doesn't like grammar, He can't tell a verb from a noun ; But the orchard he knows where the best apple grows, And every bad boy in the town. 74: MACAULAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOB LITTLE FOLKS. All. He doesn't like figures ! he doesn't like figures ! His slate if he durst he would break ; Let us warn him at once that he'll grow up a dunce, Unless to his books he will take. WINTER [For a Class.] Winter day ! frosty day ! God a cloak on all doth lay ; On the earth the snow He sheddeth j O'er the lamb a fleece he spreadeth ; Gives the bird a coat of feather, To protect it from the weather ; Gives the children home and food. Let us praise Him ! God is good. Should the wind rise high and higher, We can warm us by the fire ; Should the snow hide all th^ ground, Warmth and shelter can be found, Fuel waits us in the wood ; God is bountiful and good. THE SNOWBALL. GEORGE COOPER. [Fo7' three boys and class.] First Boy. The sky is speckled with the snow- All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! First Boy. Up and down the hill we go — All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! First Boy. Small at first, but how it grows ! What care we for purple nose. Ruby fingers, tingling toes — All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! MACAULAT S DIALOGUES FOB lilTTLE FOLKS. 75 Second Boy. Trees are in their downy beds — All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! Second Boy. Blankets wrapped around their heads- All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! Second Boy. All together, with a will, Up the lane and down the hill ; We are merry snowbirds still — All. Keep the ball a-rolling ! Third Boy. All. Third Boy. All. TJiird Boy. All. Giants make these, one by one — Keep the ball a-rolling ! When they snowball, just for fun — Keep the ball a-rolling ! From a single flake it grew ; Hour \)Y hour, so fair and true, Grow the good deeds that we do — Keep the ball a-rolling ! THE MONTHS. MARY N. PRESCOTT. [For six girls.] First Girl. When January's here Snow-men appear: While February's waiting We'll have some skating. Second Girl. When March comes this way Breezes are at play ; During April hours Expect sun-showers. Third Girl. When May-flowers hide Search far and wide ! When the year's at June Half the world's in tune. 76 MACAUIiAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. Fourth Girl. While July stays Flies have curious ways j When August comes Look out for plums. Fifth Girl. While September wears Help get in the pears ; When October grieves Help bind up the sheaves. Sixth Girl. Ere November flies You shall see mince-pies ; When December's knocking Then hang up your stocking. A HALP-MINUTE SONG. [For two little girls.'] First Girl. Sing a song of winter, Frost and ice and snow ! And as good an air as any The north wind can blow. Second Girl, Sing a song of summer — Rosy days in June ! And leave it to the bluebirds To see about the tune. LEAENING TO OOUNT. [For Jim girls.] First Girl. Leave your dollies, my little comrades, And learn the the numbers, one, two, three. One — I have one little playmate, One little girl ; who can she be 1 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 77 Second Girl. Two are my birdie's bright blue eyes, Little stars that twinkle and shine ; Three — ^yes, three years old is sister — Three years old this pet of mine. Tliird Girl. Four — that stands for four small fingers That hold my great one firm and tight ; Five — the toes on this foot so busy, Running about from morn till night FouHli Girl. Six — kind aunties love their darling ; Seven sugar plums, white and red, Shall be hers if she learns this lesson ; Eiglit are the curls on her little head. Fifth Girl. Nine are her dolls — Kate, Polly, and Susan, Lucy and Efiie, Grace, Charlie, and Ben, And pretty Louisa, that sweet little dolly ! Of thumbs and fingers your darling has ten. All. One hundred the questions we ask every hour. One thousand the steps that we take every day ; One million blessings we wish for you all here — Our lesson is over, we skip away ! A SUMI^IEE DAY. GEORGE COOPER. {For six hoys or girls.] First. This is the way the morning dawns : Rosy tints on fiowers and trees, Winds that wake the birds and bees,- Dewdrops on the fields and lawns — This is the way the morning dawns. Second. This is the way the sun comes up : Gold on brooks and glossy leaves, Mist that melts above the sheaves, Vine and rose and buttercup — This is the way the sun comes up. 78 macaulay's dialogues fob uttle folks. Third. This is the way the rain comes down : Tinkle, tinkle, drop by drop, Over roof and chimney-top : Boughs that bend, and skies that frown— This is the way the rain comes down. Fourth. This is the way the river flows : Here a whirl, and there a dance, Slowly now, then, like a lance, Swiftly to the sea it goes — This is the way the river flows. Fifth. This is the way the birdies sing : '' Baby-birdies in the nest, You I surely love the best ; Over you I fold my wings " — This is the way the birdie sings. Sixth. This is the way the daylight dies : Cows are lowing in the lane, Fire-flies wink on hill and plain ; Yellow, red and purple skies — This is the way the daylight dies. GOOD-BTE. GEORGE COOPER. [For four girls.] First Girl. Good-bye, daisy, pink, and rose, And snow-white lily too ; Every pretty flower that grows, Here's a kiss for you. Second Girl. Good-bye, merry bird and bee, And take this tiny song For the ones you sang to me All the summer long. MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 79 Third Girl. Good-bj-e, mossy little rill, That shivers in the cold ; Leaves that fall on vale and hill Cover you with gold. Fourth Girl. A sweet good-bye to birds that roam, And rills, and flowers, and bees ; But, when the winter's gone, come home As early as you please. MULTIPLIOATION. MARY N. PRESCOTT. [For a class.'] Twice one are two, Violets white and blue ; Twice two are four, Sunflowers at the door ; Twice three are six, Rhodoras on their sticks ; Twice four are eight, Coxcombs at the gate ; Twice five are ten. Catkins of the aspen ; Twice six are tw^elve. Poppies for those who delve ; Twice seven are fourteen. Flowers of the scarlet beam ; Twice eight are sixteen. Blossoms of the lupine ; Twice nine are eighteen, Purple thistles to be seen ; - Twice ten are twenty. Hollyhocks in plenty ; Twice eleven are twenty-two, Daisies fringed with morning dew ; Twice twelve are twenty-four, Roses — who could ask for more 1 80 MAOAXJIjAy's DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS, JACK HOENEE. [For four boys.] First Little Jack Horner, He sat in a corner, Crying for something to eao ; In came .Mother Hubbard, And went to the cupboard, And brought him a nice piece of meat. Second. Then little Jack Horner Came out of the corner, And threw his nice meat on the floor ; " I want some mince pie ! " Was the naughty boy's cry. As he banged on the dining-room door. Third. " I don't like cold lamb ; Give me raspberry jam ;" But old Mother Hubbard said, ''No ! If a boy cannot eat Such nice wholesome meat. To bed without food he must go." Fourth. So Little Jack Horner, m Who cried in the corner, ^ Was washed clean and put into bed ; After sleeping all night, He awoke fresh and bright. And was glad tQ eat plain naeat and bread ! THE SPAEEOWS. [For two little girls.] First Girl. The sparrows are chirping, And what do they say T MACAULAT's dialogues fob lilTTIiE FOLKS. 81 Second Girl. Oh, pretty blue sky, Come back to us, pray ; We are tired of the clouds, We are tired of the rain ; When will the roses Blossom again 1 First Girl. The baby is singing, And what does she say 1 Second Girl, Oh, dear little sparrows, Have patience, I pray ; The bright blue is waiting For summer's sweet call, Then there'll be sunshine, Eoses, and all. THE EAILEOAD. [Some children make an arch with their arms, representing the depot ; two or more represent the locomotive ; one the con- ductor. The first four stanzas are repeated hy the remain- ing children, marching around the platform ; the fifth is spoken hy the conductor ; the sixth and seventh hy the chil- dren again ; at the close of the seventh they hasten up heliind the locomotive, and the train starts, faster and faster, etc. The pufilng at the close of each stanzas is the husiness of the children who represent the locomotive. '\ Children. Children ! children ! quick, make speed ! To the railroad we'll proceed. Locomotive. Tchoo ! tchoo ! tchoo ! tchoo ! etc. Children. Hasten, or Tve'll be too late. For the steam- car will not wait. Loco. Tchoo ! etc. Children. Now the depot is in view ; Soon the train will be here too. Loco. , Tchoo ! etc. * 82 macaulay's dialogues fou little folks. CJiildren. Dear conductor, tell us, do : May we take a ride with you 1 Loco. Tchoo ! etc. . Conductor. Room enough for you and more ; All aboard the train at four. Loco. Tchoo ! etc. Children. Hear I it strikes — one, two, three, four, And the train will wait no more. Loco. Tchoo ! etc. Children. Now look sharp, and use your feet, Or you will not get a seat. Loco. Tchoo ! etc. I A MOEisrma oall. fanny percival. [For four hoys.] Mrst. Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, tweet, Comes the summer clear and sweet, Chirped in merry tuneful notes From a host of little throats, Calling to the sleepy heads Dozing, napping in their beds, TeUing when the day's begun, And their sleeping time is done. Second. Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, teet, Time that you were on your feet j Everything ahve but you Is awake and busy too ; Oh, you should get up and see How the world is full of glee ! Tweet, tweet, twitter, twit, Pray don't sleep another bit. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 83 Third. Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, tweet, All the air is fresh and sweet ; Every leaf and flower in sight Is bedecked in jewels bright, Sparkling in the morning sun ; Wake lip, wake up, every one ; Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, twit, Pray don't sleep another bit ! Fourth. Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, tweet, You are losing pleasures sweet ; Dear old earth looks good as new, Dressed in freshest robes for you ; Oh, 'tis nothing else but bliss Just to live a day like this ! Tweet, tweet, twitter, twitter, twit, Pray don't sleep another bit ! TANTEUMS. EDGAR FAWCETT. [For tiDO girls.] First Gfirl. I wish I was ahvays good-natured. Without the least taste for contention. And constantly felt like declaring That life was a splendid invention. Second Girl. Oh, I'm quite pleasant and gentle For sometimes three whole days together, And then, the winds shifts to the eastward, And presto ! it's terrible weather ! First Girl. For doing all things that I oughtn't I feel a most deep fascination ; Bad deeds, just because of their badness, Afford me such gratification. 84 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Second Girl. A girl in our class, Jenny Morris, Has fits that are perfectly awful ; I think of her when I'm the victim Of yearnings to do things unlawful. First Girl, Now what, after all, are my tantrums . But fits, I should just like to question 1 Of course I don't mean they're like Jenny's ; They're probably mere indigestion. Second Girl. When once I improve, after showing A temper especially torrid, I seem to have just been possessed by — By — something that's thoroughly horrid. First Girl. Yes, often I have the odd fancy, Ridiculous though you may find it, That each little tantrum which leaves Has horns, and a long tail behind it I EOSE. [For two girls.] First. We laid a little baby In a cradle dark and deep, Where only God could watch her As she slept her quiet sleep. Second. The lightning and the thunder Her slumber did not break ; And I began to wonder If she ever meant to wake. ' First. One morning by h«r bedside I was standing looking down, When a little face peeped up From the covering of brown. MACAULAY S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 85 Second. So cunning and so tiny, It seemed to say to me, '' Good morning to your highness ! I am wide awake you see ! ' First. She grew up very stately. And she wore a dress of green, And of all the other maidens In the garden she was queen. Second. Sometimes she wore a bonnet Of pink upon her head ; Sometimes 'twas white or yellow ; But more frequently was red. First. You know her, and you love her Just as we do, I suppose ; And we hardly need to tell you That the baby's name was Rose. THE OHIOKADEES. [For several little girls.'] Four little girls sit in the centre, and the rest dance round them^ hand-in-hand. All. Chilly little chickadees, Sitting in a row ! % Chilly little chickadees, Buried in the snow 1 Don't you find it very cold For your Httle feet '? Don't you find it hard to get Anything to eat 1 ^ One Little Girl {the others stop dancing). Hungry little chickadees, Would you like some bread 7 I'll give you all you want, Or some seeds instead : 86 liacaulay's dialogues foe little folks. Anything you like to eat You shall have it free, Every morning, every night, If you come to me. The four little girls hop up to the one who has just spoken ; she makes the motion of scattering crumbs^ and the four make the motions of picking them up to eat. All dance as before, and repeat : Jolly little chickadees, Have you had enough '? Don't forget to come again When the weather's rough ! {All let go hands and make the motions of " good-by.") By-by, happy little birds ! Oif the wee things swarm, Flying thro' the driving snow, Singing in the storm. {The four run off ahead of the others, and flap their arms for wings.) LITTLE BEN BUTE. [For three hoys.} First. Oh, little Ben Bute Had a flute, flute, flute, And went about the world In a Knickerbocker suit ; Down, up and down, And round about the town He played and he played, Tootle, toot, toot, toot. Second. He could not play well, So the notes rose and fell, macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 87 Tootle, tootle, tootle, too, With a twirl and a squeak ; The wind, pufF ! puff ! Was forty times enough, That he sent into his flute From his cheek, cheek, cheek. Third, Then people to the lad Said, " Oh, this is Terj bad 1 Our ears you soon will split With your toot, toot, toot ; Is there no one in reach — What ! no one who will teach Little Bute how to play upon The flute, flute, flute 7 " ' Tootle-too, tootle-too, tootle, tootle, too-ey 1 LITTLE KINDNESSES. [For a class.] Little words of kindness. Whispered soft and low, With a thrill of gladness To the heart they go. Lighting up its darkness With a cheering ray ; Changing heavy sadness To the Hght of day. Little words of kindness Do a work of love ; God's own hand records them In the world above ; They whose words of pity Dry the mourner's tears, Have' the Saviour's blessing Thro' their earthly years. 88 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. Little deeds of kindness Heartily bestowed, Help a fainting brother On life's weary road. Little deeds of kindness To a wandering soul, Blessed by God, may lead him Back to Jesus' fold. Little words of kindness Seem of little worth, Yet ye cannot buy them With the gold of earth. Scatter then like sunbeams Many a word of love. And the Lord of heaven Will bless you from above. A JUIIE MORUma LESSON. [For fine girls. 1 First. Twice one are two : Prairie roses, blushing through My window — all aglow with dew. Twice one are two. Second. Twice two are four : Bees a-humming round the door, Calling others by the score. Twice two are four. Third. Twice three are six : Pansy-beds their colors mix ; See the mother hen and chicks. Twice three are six. Fourth. Twice four are eight : Gorgeous butterflies, elate, MACAULAY'S dialogues for lilTTIiE FOLKS. 89 Dancing, poising, delicate. Twice four are eight. Fifth. Twice five are ten : Sweetest strains from yonder glen Echoed o'er and o'er again. Twice five are ten. All. Twice six are twelve : Merry maidens of the year — Some in snowy gowns appear, Some in gold and silver sheen ; Yet the fairest is, I ween, Dainty June, in pink and green. BIED NOTES, KATE ASHLEY. [For two girls.] First. We know of a nest in a cherry tree, Igh as ever a nest need be ; As cosy a home as you'd wish to see, And a mother-bird calling, "Peep, peep," Cheerily singing, " Peep, peep." Second. As the sun dropped low in the western sky, And the winds kept rocking her cradle on high, We'd list to the low, sweet lullaby Of the mother-bird, crooning, ''Sleep, sleep," Drowsily cooing, " Sleep, sleep." First. But the nestlings are stolen, and shattered the home All the song of her life with her birdies hath flown, And the dear little mother-bird, sitting alone. Is moaning, and crying, " Weep, weep," Drearily sighing, " Weep, weep 1" 90 MACAULAY's dialogues for TiTTTLE FOLKS. TEE QUAEEEL AMONG THE PLOWEES. [For four girls.] MoENiNG-GLORY — a givl dressecl in blue ; Lilt — a girl dressed in white; Rose — a girl dressed in pink ; Grass — a girl dressed in green. Enter Morning-glory. Morning-glory. Dear folks, all the other flowers are surly, And just the reason why I'll tell to you ; I'm the only flower that gets up early Lily {running in). Early, yes^ but how much work do you do ? You get up, and then you go to bed again ! Now / hold up my cup the whole day through. Hose {running in and pushing in front of loth). Oh, did I ever see a flower so vain ! ^ To brag, and not one single bit of smell ! Thank fate, my place among the flowers is plain, (holds out her dress) Good folks, how would you miss the rose's color 7 Morning-glory (holding out skirt). Good folks, how would you miss my modest color 1 Lily (holding out her skirt). Good folks, how brides and babes would miss my color. Grass (tripping in, and putting her arms about the three). Oh, here you are, you naughty little flowers ; I've hunted for you up and down for three, four hours ; It was so dull I didn't know what to do, And oh, how sweet you look — red, white, and blue ! MACAUIiAY's DIAIiOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 91 All {entwining their arms, and repeating slowly in corns.) Perhaps we do each one look well this way, And; maybe, too, in human life's bouquet, It would be dull to have folks all one mind, And that's the reason we have every kind. {They walk off, hand-in-hand.) A TALE OF TEN PIGS. ? ' H. E. GEORGE. [For Jive boys.] First We want to tell you a little tale Of ten little pigs in a stye, » And the early death of one little pig Perhaps will make you cry ; But we want to show you all, our friends, The way in w^hich greediness sometimes ends. Second. As nine little pigs the w^hole day long - Twisted their nine little tails, They stretched themselves out like taffy sticks, As thin as nine little rails ; Now the tenth little pig didn't romp at all. But curled himself up like a pop-corn ball. Third, While the nine little pigs were all at play, The tenth little pig would "creep, And eat the dinner all out of the trough, And then he'd go to sleep ; But when the others came home to dine. There wasn't dinner enough for nine. Fourth, I think you all will easily see The consequence of that ; As fast as the nine little pigs grew thin The tenth little pig grew fat ; 92 MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS, Until, at length, in the early fall, He wasn't a little pig at all. Fifth. And then one day a butcher came With a very long sharp knife, And carried this greedj^ pig away, And took away his life ; But the other pigs were so very small That they were not killed for pork that fall. THE SEASONS. ELSIE BEE. ^ [For six mry little children.'] Spring. Springtime will come when the winter is past, Oh, don't you wish that it always would last 1 For then the birds sing while their snug nests they build. And the woods with spring beauties and violets are filled. Summer. I love the warm summer when daj^s are so long ; I love the bees' humming, the birds' merry song ; To gather the daisies and buttercups bright, ' And to see in the evening the fire-flies bright. Autumn. Oh, I love the autumn, when the leaves of the trees, All red, brown or yellow, float down on the breeze ; When we gather the apples, and squirrels and we Have a race for the beech-nuts that fall from the tree. Winter. Oh, I love the winter when snow's on the ground ; We can coast on our sleds and roll snow-balls round. When the pond freezes we skate and we slide. And hear the bells jingle in our merry sleigh ride. 2 wo mry little ones. Winter, spring, summer, fall, * God makes them, and we love them all. IfiACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 93 QUEEE PEOPLE. [TJiree hoys, dressed as Esquimaux, Highlander^ and Chinese and three girls as Turk, Indian, and Spanish, form a semi- ^ circle on the stage, A hoy and girl, in plain dresses, stand one at each end, and bring forward the characters alternately, repeating the appropriate part. Instead of tico, six hoys and girls, representing a Geography class, may recite the verses. The opening and closing stanzas are to he spoken in concert. ^ All the scholars not in costumes. All around this world of ours, "VY'Mrling swift as thought, Through the icebergs and the flowers Glimpses we have caught. Of such curious folks we know You would like to have us show Their queer ways, so we'll produce them One by one, and introduce them. Esquimaux. Over the snow The Esquimaux, Drawn by his 'snarling pack, Follows the bear thro' the Arctic night, Sweeping on in a rapid flight, Over the gay Aurora's light, Over the frozen track. To and fro, As the north winds blow, The rude lamp swings in the hut of snow. Bunches of moss they burn for wicks, Tallow candles their candle-sticks. Never a doll do the children see, Scarcely a flow'r or tree. Do you wish that you were an Esquimaux, To eat and sleep in the land of snow 1 9:1: macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Turk, Where the tiny waves of heat Quiver upward like a prayer, Dainty perfumes, shy and sweet, Tremble on the sultry air — In the dim seraglio lie Cushion-heaps of richest silk ; Languid beauties charm the eye, Almond-eyed, with teeth like milk. Would you rather be an indolent Turk, Or your own bright self, with plenty of work 1 Highlander. When crossing bonnie Scotland, A Highlander I saw ; His bonnet it was canty. His stockings they were braw. Oh, who would not a Highlander be. To roam o'er the hill-tops blithe and free 1 Indian. In the shade of a tent an Indian stout Lies smoking his pipe at ease. While his patient squaw, moving in and out, Seems striving her lord to please. When the dinner is simmering o'er the fire. And the skins have all been drest, She lifts her droll papoose on her back, And starts on some weary quest. All the burden and all the care Fall on the weaker of the pair. Oh, let us be glad of our clear white skin. And the dear home-happiness all may win Chinese. I should like to bring My friend Ching Ling, And give him an introduction. Now confess to me That you rarely see Such a curious foreign production. Oh, give to me A cup of their tea, macaulay's dialogues foe little folks, Odorous, black, and strong. It will be our gain If we can retain Our friend from the flowery land ; For patience and skill, And strength of will He holds in his yellow hand. Now, boys, remember how much depends On being polite to our Chinese friends. Spaniard. Languidly, dreamily float to my ear Strains from a distant guitar ; Soon in the moonlighted darkness appear — Blending the near and the far — Dusky-robed figures of maryellous grace, Weaving the forms of the dance ; Dark eyes gleam brightly thro' half- veiling lace, Eyes that can melt with a glance. All the scliolars not in costumes. These are a few of the folks we have found ; How^ do you like their looks ? If you're not able to travel around, You may meet them in your books. WHICH? GEORGE COOPER. [For a Ijoy and girl.] Boy. There's a quaint little fellow in black, In out-of-way places he hides ; Good nature he never doth lack, And fretting and care he derides. With arms held akimbo he stands. And takes the world easy each day ; He owneth no houses nor lands. Yet, sunlight or rain, he doth say, " Cheer up ! cheer up I" 96 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Girl. There's a quaint little matron who hops 'Mid leaves of the garden and grove j Her querulous tongue never stops Complaining, where'er she doth rove. She seemeth a sprite of old Care ; While cheery and blue are the skies, And joy is a abroad in the air, Forever she murmurs and cries, " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! '* Boy. There are boys, yes, and girls, like these twain ; I meet them in field and in street ; From fretting some never abstain, But some are all cheerfulness sweet. A cricket or cat-bird to-day. Now, which will you be, little dear 7 A kiss for the sweet lips that say, Though skies may be cloudy or clear, '^ Cheer up ! cheer up ! " TEE EASTEE OEOSS. [For several girls.] A large cross, covered with moss or evergreens, with nail on which to hang loreaths and garlands, is firmly fixed upon a table. A thorn-icreath hangs upon it. First Girl goes to the cross, removes the thorn-wreath, and places a icreath of lohite Narcissus'^ in its place, saying : To-day no thorn-crowned cross of pain. Must tell our hearts of Jesus slain ; We take away the crown of thorns ; Now Sharon's rose the cross adorns. * The Rose of Sharon of the Scriptures is the white Narcissus of our gar- dens. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 97 Second Girlhangs a wreath of green learns upon the cross, say- ing : I bring the soft green leaves that say Earth has her resurrection day ; Their fresh glad hues I now employ To wreath the cross of pain with joy. Third Girl carries anemones, saying : I bring the Paschal flower that blooms When spring's glad Easter morning comes ; The Pasque flower breathes this low. sweet strain : '' All things that die shall live again." Fourth Girl brings red flotcers, saying : My flowers have hue like that sad tide That flowed from Jesus' wounded side ; We weep because he died, and then Rejoice because he lives again. Fiftli Girl, with white lilies, says : My flowers are white, but purer far Was he than snowy blossoms are ; With white pure souls. Lord, may we Thy dearest Easter lilies be. Sixth Girl, icith yellow flowers, says : My flowers are like the crown of gold That the beloved did behold Upon the sacred brow that wore The plaited crown of thorns before. Semnth Girl, with blue molets, says : My flowers are of the lovely hue That smiles in highest heights of blue. Where seek the children's longing eyes The risen Lord beyond the skies. Many little ones, scattering floioers at the foot of the cross, say^ in concert : Around the cross sweet flowers we spread, For Jesus is not with the dead ; He loved the children when below. He loves them now in heaven w^e know. 98 macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. All say : Dear Lord, the shining angels said, *' Seek not the hving with the dead." We wreathe the cross, our hearts we wreathe ; Our hearts, hke flowers, sweet incense breathe, While glad we raise this joyous strain • He lived, He died. He lives again. JAELET WAX-WOEKS. CHARACTEKS. Mrs. Jarlet. — Black or figured dress, red shawl, huge bonnet. Little Nell. — White or calico dress, hat over arm, long stick. Chinese Giant. — Curtain of turkey-red or patch tied around the waist, long enough to reach to the ground when he stands upon a high stool ; patch quilt or curtain folded over shoulders, shawl fashion ; bright lamp-shade on his head ; long queue of braided list. Dwarf.— Kneeling child with large shoes to show in front of dress ; white hair of tow or wicking ; dark dress, cup, bowl, and spoon. Martha Bangs. — Black dress, sheet thrown carelessly over ; black hair, flowing ; left hand up to forehead ; pickle-jar in right hand. Mrs. Winslow.— Dark dress ; ruffled cap ; white apron ; bottle of Soothing Syrup in right hand ; rag baby or large doll in left hand. . Mermaid.— White dress ; green skirt ; mostly concealed behind giant ; long light flowing locks ; hand-glass and comb in hands. The Boy that stood on the Burning Deck.— Fireman's shirt and trumpet ; clothes on hind side before. Captain Kidd.— Red shirt ; straw or military hat ; pistol and sword. His Victim. — White dress ; red cape ; flowing hair. Lord Byron. — Black cloak ; broad white collar. Bluebeard. — Red dressing-gown ; loose white pantaloons ; turban ; large key. Siamese Twins.— Two men or boys, different sizes, joined by a white roll of paper. Mrs. Jaeley sits at right of stage hy a great drum or talle, ana Nell is dusting and arranging the figures as the curtain rises. Mrs. Jarley describes the figures as they are pointed out ly Nell. The Chinese Giant. This fic:^ure is universalh^ allowed to be the macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 99 tallest figure in ray collection ; he originated in the two provinces of Oolong and Shang-high, one province not being long enough to produce him. On account of his extreme length it is impossible to give any adequate idea of him in one entertainment ; conse- quently he will be continued in our next. The celebrated Welsh Dwarf. This wonderful child has created some interest in the medical and scientific world, from the fact that he was thirteen years old when he was born, and kept on grow- ing older and older until he died at the somewhat advanced age of two hundred and ninetj^-seven in consequence of eating too freely of pies and cakes, his favorite food. Martha Bangs, the miserable maniac who poisoned fourteen families by giving them pickled walnuts, and then wandered about from house to house observing the efiect of the pestiferous pickles. She holds in her right hand the fatal jar, which has plunged so many happy families into the deepest despair ; you will observe also the wild confusion of ideas expressed by her raving locks. It is of this classic figure that the poet Burns speak in his comic poem of Casablanca. To use the words of the lamented John Phoenix, '• Face white as the driven snow, hair black as the driven charcoal." The children's friend, the parent's assistant, the mother's hope, Mrs. S. A. Winslow, a nurse of thirty years' standing. She holds in her hand a bottle of that wonderful syrup Vv'hich has soothed the sorrows of so many suiFering sisters. I cannot do better justice to this remarkable fluid, then by quoting a few stanzas from the celebrated comic poet, Ossian, in his great melodramatic x>oem of Marmion — " Soothing Syrup adds new lustre to the cheek of beauty, smooths the w^rinkles from the furrowed brow of age, and is also excellent for chilblains." The celebrated Fejee Mermaid, combining, as you well know, the principal properties of a beautiful woman joined to those of a lovely fish. This Boy, ladies and gentlemen, had the extreme foolishness to stand upon the burning deck. Turning to look in the direction ■'whence" Albut "he had fled," his head became completely turned, so that he v>'as picked up insensible from among the burning embers, and his face has been firmly fixed the wrong way ever since. 100 MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOE TiTTTLE FOLKS. Captain Kidd, the robber of the mail, supposed to have originated somewhere Down East. His whole life being spent upon the stormy deep, he amassed an immense fortune and buried it in the sand along the flower-clad bank of Cape Cod, by which course he in- vented the Savings Bank, now so common along shore. Having hidden away so much i)roperty, which, like many modern invest- ments, never can be unearthed, he was known as a great sea-cretur. Before him kneels his lovely and innocent Victim, the Lady Blousabella Infantina, who was several times taken and murdered by the bloodthirsty tyrant, which accounts for the calm look of resignation depicted upon her lovely countenance. Bluebeard, the well-known philanthropist, the loving father and tender husband. But little is known of the early history of this celebrated personage except that his name was Nathan Beard, and he kept a seminary for young ladies at Walpole, Mass., where he endeavored to instil into the female mind those qualities in which they are so painfull}^ deficient — curiosity and love of appro- bation. Failing of course in this, he became so blue and low- spirited, that he was known by the nickname of Bluebeard, which title he bore until his death, which occurred during the latter portion of his life. In his hand he holds the instrument .which he used throughout his long and successful career ; it will be at once recognized by every true scholar as the key to Colburn's Arithmetic, Part Third. The Siamese Twins. These remarkable brothers lived together in the greatest harmony — indeed, were never seen apart in their lives, although there was always a bone of contention between them. One of them was born in the island of Borneo, the other on the southern extremity of Cape Ann. To an audience of such cultivation and taste as the one before me it is superfluous to describe this figure. It is easily recognized by you all as Lord Beeron, as he api^eared when composing his celebrated novel of The Coarse Hair, which holds an equal rank with the following popular works : What's on the Mind, Locke on the Understanding, and The Pleasures of Imagination, hj Akin Side. This usually concludes my exhibition, but I shall now proceed to do what I seldom do. I shall wind up my figures. These are macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 101 all fitted with clock-works inside, so that wl^cn they are wound up they will go through the exact motions they would have done had they been alive. In fact, many people have supposed them to be alive, they look so very natural, but I assure you they are all made of wood and wax. Blockheads every one. [Nell icinds each one up icith a icatcliman' s rattle. When icound up the Giant hows low, then wags his head three times, and hows again as hefore; the Dwarf eats ; Martha Bangs lifts her hottle and tears her hair ; 3Irs, Winsloio trots hahy and gives it Soothing Sgrup ; Mermaid turns her head and comhs her hair, looking in hand-glass; the Boy slowly re- "ooUes ; Captain Kidd raises his sword over his Victim^ icho raises her hands and groans ; Lord Byron rolls his eyes and. torites in a hook; Blueheard raises his key and turns his head ; Siamese Twins hegin to fight. All move "very slowly and stiffly at first, then go faster and faster, ichen at a sig- nal the clock-work runs down, and they stop, and go off.] TETIE MANHOOD. [For two hoys.] Enter Harry and. Jame^s, talking, Harry. No, James, I'll not submit. John Sprague has taunted me enough about my poor hat and clothes, and I'll just fight him. I'm poor, I know, but I've got pride for all that, and I'll resent his taunts. James. If you've pride I should think that would keep you from fighting. Only loafers fight. Harry. But how can I resent the insult if I don't fight 1 James. Don't resent it. Harry, Well, that may do for you to say who are not poor, and don't know how it stings to be taunted about your father's poverty ; but for me there is no one to care, and I must fight my way or be run under by the upstarts. 102 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOK TiTTTLE FOIiKS. James. I honor your spirit, but not the way you propose to manifest it. If John Sprague taunts you, it is no reason why you should be annoyed by what he says. If you were indifferent to his remarks, do you think he would persist ? Harry. Perhaps not ; but the trouble is to be indifferent. If I had a rich father like you, of course I could afford to be indiffer- ent ; but my father is only a laboring man, and if I get along in the world it must be by lighting for ni}^ rights. James. Not by any means. My father is rich ; but do you know he ^vas once just as poor as your father 1 Indeed he was, and I can remember the time when I had to be satisfied with one hat and one coat per year, just as you have to be. And your fa- ther, being such a good steady man, is just as likely to become well off as John Sprague's father. Indeed, if what I hear is true, it may not be many years before you will see John a poor man's son, for his father is a great spendthrift. If that time does come, I dare say John will become a vagabond, for no boy v/ho insults another simply because he is poor ever comes to g.ood. It is hu- man too err, but divine to forgive, the preachers say ; if so, you can well afford at least to be silent when John Sprague upbraids you for your poverty. Harry. Well, well. Perhaps there is wisdom in silence under insult ; but it is hard to be silent then. James. Just so ; but it is one of the great mistakes of the poor to be resenting what they deem to be insults. They become thereby quarrelsome, ill-tempered, and unhappy. If they would but consider that the poor of one generation become the rich of the next — especially in this country — they would see to it that their children were not encouraged or permitted to quarrel over imaginary wrongs. Now, Harry, you have a good head and heart ; I like you because you are steady and studious, and I know you will grow up to be a prosperous man, for it is such boj^s as you that make the world move — you have to make it move you see in order to get a living, and it is us rich men's sons who become the drones of society, for we have but little Incentive to work and think. Mark me, j^ou'll be a man of mark when I and John Sprague, because of our father's money, will be nobodies. This I see as clearly as if I had lived up to manhood ; it is just what macauxiAy's dialogues foe little folks. 103 my good father tells me. If it be so, Harry, are you the one to be pitied 1 Ought you to care for old hats and old coats 7 Harry. Really, this is a new view of the case to me — that the rich men's sons are to become the second-rates of their genera- tion, and the poor men's sons the first-rates. James. The true view, nevertheless. So take a day or two to think over it, and you'll not only conclude to leave John Sprague's eyes and face alone, but that you can afford to look doioii on him as one who will some day come to you for favors and help. {Exeunt,) HAMLET AND THE GHOST, [For two bo2/s.] Enter Hamlet, dressed as a full-hloion Yankee. Enter Ghost opposite. Ghost. I am thy father's spirit Hamlet. Yeou don't say so ! Why, old man, tip us yeour flip- per ! How de dew '? AVhen'd ye come down % Hamlet is mightj^ glad to see his relations when they don't want to go to the theatre too much, and stay out nights raisin' the very Ghost. Doomed for a certain time to walk the night Hamlet. Why on airth don't ye take the hoss-cars, and ride '? Or do they quit too airly for ye 7 Where do ye hang out in the daytime '? Ghost. And for the day confined to fast in fires Hamlet. Abeout how fast are ye, old man — two-forty ? Ghost. Till the foul crimes done in my daj^s of nature are burnt and purged away. Hamlet. Here's a little cholera medicine, (p^j'oduces bottle) Pro- vided gratuitously by the Board of Health, sir, and it's mighty sarchin', I tell yeou! Ghost. But that I am forbid to tell the secrets of my prison- house, I could a tale unfold Hamlet. Don't unfold it here ; not if it is one of those tales to be continued in the New York Ledger. Yer see, I writes for that 104 maoaulay's dialogues for little folks. institution at fourteen dollars a page, and gits my paj^ in Bonner's old hats and boot,s ; so don't yeou interfere there ! Ghost. Whose lightest word would harrow up your soul Hamlet. Fetch on your harrer. Ghost. Freeze thy young blood Hamlet. Git eout ! yeou 'tarnal old refrigerator. Ghost. Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres — Hamlet. Dew tell. Yeou couldn't say about what time they'd start '? Ghost. Thy knotted and combined locks to part Hamlet. I've parted with abeout all on 'em neow, 'specially on top of my head. Ghost. And each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine. Hamlet. Neow, look a here, old poppy, don't fret your darned old porkypine over me, I'll fight fust. No porkypine for me, if you please. Ghost. But this eternal blazon must not be to ears of flesh and blood. List, list, list, oh, list. Hamlet. Yeou be gol-darned. Didn't I list in Jonas Peabody's Hum Guards when yeou fled into Canada, takin' j'-our draft with yeou 1 Better go and 'list yeourself, yeou 'tarnal old critter, 'stead of prowlin' round nights, disturbin' your blood relations. Git eout ! (Exeunt.) BEANDY DEOPS. M. H. Characters. — Frank Wilson, Tom Harper, Gerald Lee. SCENE FIRST. Enter Frank and Tom, the former carrying a 'pa'per 'parcel, Frank. Come now, Tom, do take some ; you're not afraid to eat cand}^, are you % Tom. No, Frank, not as a general thing; but these are brandy drops ^ and I can't say that I like the name. macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 107 long as I live ; and I'll venture to say, I'll make just as good a figure in the world as either of you. We'll see how it turns out. Good-morning. SCENE SECOND.— r^?i Years Afterward. Gerald {rushing up to Tom and seizing loth hands). Congrat- ulate me, my dear fellow ; wish me joy ! Tom. With pleasure, when you tell why I am to do so. Gerald. I was never so proud and happy in my life ! I wouldn't change places with a king on his throne ! Tom. What has happened, Gerald 1 Are you elected judge, or has some one left you a fortune 1 Gerald. Better than either ; but I'll tell you. You heard of young Fred Lennings, who was arrested on the charge of having robbed his employers 7 Tom. Yes, you said he was in Wood and Moore's, I think. Gerald. Exactly. W^ll, his mother came to get me to defend her son, as several had refused to undertake the case, considering it hopeless. The proof was very strong, but I could not say no to that poor woman, begging for her only child, so I consented, and- went to see the bo3^ From the moment I looked in his eyes I have had no more doubt of his innocence than I have of yours ; but my convictions amounted to nothing unless I could prove them to be correct. For more than a month I have worked constantly, but I'm rewarded now ! Tom. Why, is he cleared ? Gerald. Cleared 1 Yes, indeed ! The jury gave their verdict without leaving the box. Tom. Who was really the guilty party ] Gerald. Another clerk in the establishment ; who, envious of Fred's rapid advancement, had laid this terribly skillful plan for ruining him, which had nearly proved successful. I never saw fcuch excitement in court as there was this morning. Tom. Many would wonder at your joy, Gerald, for I suppose the remuneration will not be very great. Gerald. I shan't allow them to pay me anything. That widow's blessing, and the thought that I have been permitted to remove this stain "from a fair young life, is all the reward I ask. Oh, my 108 macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. glorious profession ! People talk of Christian lawyers as though they were an anomaly, seldom met with, but I tell you we have freer access to those poor abandoned sinners^ whom our Master came to call to repentance, than have any other class of men. Tom. Except physicians. Oh, Gerald, I have the saddest thing to tell you. Last night a man was brought into the hospital who had fallen while intoxicated, and injured his head. I was called at once, and you can imagine my horror when I recognized in this wretched, degraded creature our old schoolmate, Frank Wilson. Gerald. Oh, Tom, that's dreadful. Tom. Nothing now but to get him a good nurse ; and I will see that nothing is left untried that can possibly save his life. But if he lives, Gerald % Gerald. Yes, Tom, I know what you mean. We'll never lose our hold on him until, by God's help, we make a good, true man of him. Tom. We will never give him up ! And, Gerald, let us remem- ber the lesson which poor Frank has taught us, that what seem to us but trifling sins may be the vanguard of a mighty army which will carrj^ us chained captives along a road whose end is death! (Exeunt.) EAGGED DICK'S LESSON. [For three hoys.} Enter Ben, in a hurry. Has a bundle of clothes in his hand. Ben. Oh, dear ! Too late ! The train is gone, and I must wait till I can try it again. Leave home I am bound to, for I am tired of this dull life, and want to see the world. Enter Charles, books in hand, Charles. What, cousin Ben ! you here % Have you come to town to visit me 1 Ben. Not to-day. I'm going home again. Chas. Home again ? Why have you that bundle then 1 Ben I— I macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 109 Chas. There, you needn't tell, but you shall just go home with me, for after your walk of ten miles you must be tired. Ben. Oh, no, I must go home. Father'll miss me, and mother'll be anxious, and sister Mary will run down the road to see if I'm coming. I must go home, {starts.) Chas. Now, Ben, this is queer. Just tell me why you won't go home with me, Ben. I — I — guess I'm homesick, {starts agaAn, and meets Ragged Dick, entering.) Bagged Dick. How are yon, boys '? C an you give a feller a lift 1 Chas. What do you mean 1 Dick. I mean help — work — something to do. Chas. Where are you from ? Dick. From the city, where boys grow up to be thieves, and men grow up to be prison-birds. Chas. And what made you leave the city ? Dick. Look at me ! Do you think I owe the city anything '? It has starved me and clothed me in rags, and I come to the coimtry to get work and lead an honorable life. Ben. Do you mean to say that all boys in the city look as ragged as you ? Dick. Oh, no ; some are rich and some are poor ; but, when a boy is poor, and down, and no one cares for him, he fares hard enough. Ben. Have yoti no parents ? Dick, Parents '? I had a mother, and she died of a fever, all alone, in a rickety old home. A father I never knew. He strayed away and never was heard of again. Ben. I'm sorry for you. Dick. Oh, if you've got a home, you've reason to be happy. How good it must be to have a home and a mother ! Chas. And a father and sister, as cousin Ben here has. Dick. A father and a sister ! Oh, boy. if you've got a home with those in it that love you, you must be a happy chap. If I had such a home icouldn't I be made! I"d be the happiest boy in the world. Ben. I wish vou had. Now, Charlev, I'll tell you all. You 110 MACAULAY'o dialogues FOU TiTTTLE FOLKS. asked me why I came to town with this bundle. I came to run away from home. Chas. Why, Ben ! Run — away — from — your — dear — old — home ! How could you ? Ben, There — don't make me cry. I'm ashamed enough of it now ; but I thought of the great city, and how I would like to see it, and become rich and great too ; and I thought the farm was a tiresome place, so I saved up my money till I had ten dol- lars, and then, early this morning, I stole away, and came here to take the cars, but came too late to catch the train. Chas. A fortunate thing indeed. Biclc. A lucky strike indeed. To leave a home, a dear old home, where those who love you are, to go to the city vv^here you might starve, and no one would give you a crust ! You must be crazy, I say. Ben. Not crazy, but deceived. I'll not go there now, but will go back to the dear old home. Bkk. That's the talk I Ben. And you shall come with me. Bklc. Oh, I'm a ragged cove, and not fit to go into a nice house like yours must be. ^ Ben. You shall go, nevertheless. You've taught me a lesson that has saved me from a false step, and I can but repay it by finding you a home in the country. Bick. God bless you, chum ! I'm a happy boy. A home ! Just think of ragged Dick having a home ! Whoop ! Chas. Oh, Ben, I'm glad for you — and I'll just go along to see uncle, you know. Beji. Why, Charley, it's a ten-mile walk ' ^Chas. I'd go if it was twenty miles. I'll just run home, leave my books, and tell mother, and then I'll meet you over the way. (Exit.) Bick. Lead the way, my chief ! You're the king and I'm the horse ! Give us that bundle ! Hooray ! A home in the country ! No more fighting the wolf — no more steps to crime — no more nights on the pavement! I'm a man now. Good-bye, Ragged Dick ! How are you, Mr. Richard Noyes, farmer and gentleman 1 Whoop! {Exeunt both.) MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOK LITTLE FOLKS. Ill SHOPPING. [For several xery little ones.] Characters. — Clerk, Axnie, Celia, Mrs. Highfly. Old Lady, Mr. Jones. SCENE. — A Shop. Tables are placed at one end of the stage to represent counters. Upon these are displayed toys, confec- tionery, boxes, or anything which will indicate a shop, Ad- 'certisements of patent medicines and other things might be hung up. WJiite pebbles may pass for sugar-plums. Sticks lohittled out and colored will do for sticks of candy, A little hoy of seven or eight must be dressed up to represent a smart clerk or storekeeper, icith a peri behind his ear. Celia and Anxie, two very little girls, enter at the other end of the stage. Celia, Annie ! did your mother give you ?.. cent '? Annie. Yes. See! (Jiolds it out .) Celia. Want me to go with you to spend it "i Annie. Yes. Come. There's the shop. Celia. Will you let me taste 1 Annie. I guess so, if you won't taste very big. Celia. I won't take but just a little teenty, teenty mite ! {they cross over.) Annie. Here's the shop. Clerk. Well, my little girls, what will you have '? Celia. She w^ants to spend her cent. Clerk. That's right. This is the place. Annie. I want a stick of candy. Clerk. Red candy ? Annie, No, sir. Mamma says white candy is best for little girls. Clerk wraps stick of candy {real candy) in paper ^ and takes the cent. Little girls walk away, hand in hand. Annie lets Celia taste. Celia and Annie go out. •« 112 MACAULAY's dialogues fob LITTIiE FOLKS. Enter Mrs. Highfly, fasMonaUy dressed^ loith trail, mil, waterfall, reticule, parasol, etc. Clerk {with polite how). Good morning, Mrs. Highfly. Mrs. Highfly. Have you any canary-seeds '? I wish to get some for m}^ bird. Clerk. We have all kinds of flower-seeds, ma'am. Mrs. Highfly. Those won't do. Have you nice prunes 1 Clerk. We don't keep prunes. We have some very nice squashes, ma'am, {takes long-necked squash from lehind the counter.) Mrs. Highfly. What do you ask 1 Clerk. Six cents a pound. Mrs. Highfly. I'll take half a one. My family is quite small. Clerk. Can't cut it, ma'am. It sells by wholesale. Mrs. Highfly. I'll try some other store. {Exit Mrs. Highfly in displeasure.) Enter nice Old Lady, dressed in black ; tohite cap-frill shows under her bonnet ; she carries a work-bag and wears spec- tacles {icithout glasses) ; makes a little courtesy. Old Lady. Good morning, sir. I've come to town, and I want to buy some sugar-plums for my grandchildren. Clerk. Large or small kind 1 Old Lady. Which are the best 7 Clerk. Large ones are better for large children, and small for the small ones. Old Lady {counts her fingers). Let me see. There's Sarah Emeline and Polly and Jemima and John Alexander and Hiram. Five. I'll take five cents' worth, mixed, {takes out from her hag five old-fashioned cents.) Clerk. Yes'm. {attempting to icrap them in paper ; Old Lady watching him) 'Twill come to just five cents. Old Lady {opening hag). Drop them right in here. (Clerk drops them in.) {Exit Old Lady.) Enter Mr. Jones icith tall hat, overcoat or dress-coat, cane, stand-up dickey, etc. Clerk. Good morning, sir. Wish to trade to-day 1 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 113 Mr. Jones. I wish to buy some toys for my children. Clerk. How old 1 Mr. Jones. All ages. Clerk. Would you like a whip, sir % {shows one, snapping it.) Mr. Jones. A whip isn't a very good thing to have in the house. Clerk. Would you buy a ball ? These will every one bounce. {sJioioa various kinds. ) Mr. Jones. No, sir. I'm about tired of setting glass. Clerk. These are warranted not to break windows. But here's a trumpet. A trumpet is a very pleasing toy. {slioics one, blowing it.) Mr. Jones (tcith a icam of the hand). Don't show me anything that will make a noise ! Clerk. How would a hoop suit you ! {shoioing one.) Mr. Jones. I couldn't think of spending money for hoops. A barrel-hoop drives just as well. Clerk. Have they got marbles 1 Mr. Jones. Yes, plenty. My Sammy got one in his throat, and came very near being choked. Clerk:. Try a jumping-jack. {holds one up, pulling the string.^ Mr. Jones. 0, they'd soon break the string. Clerk. How would a knife please thena 1 [shoics one.) Mr. Jones. Please them well enough. But they'd be sure to lose it, or cut themselves. Jemmy's got six fingers tied up now. Clerk. Are they supplied with boats I {shoioing one.) Mr. Jones. I never let my children sail boats, for fear of their being drowned. Clerk. How is it about a kite 1 Mr. Jones. Kites are likely to blow away. Clerk. Perhaps you'd like something useful. Mr. Jones. My children don't like useful things. Clerk. Here's a good hatchet, {shows hatcJiet.y Mr. Jones. They'd hack my fruit-trees. i Clerk. A hammer 7 Mr. Jones. Nails would be driven in everywhere. Clerk. Buy a doll for your little girl, {shoics doll.) "^ Mr. Jones. She has a house full now. Clerk. A silver thimble t Ill- macaujuAy's dialogues por. little folks. Mr. Jones. A pewter one does as well to lose. Clerk. You are a hard customer, sir. Mr. Jones. Not at all. Your wares don't suit me. Clerk. We expect a new lot of toys in soon. Mr. Jones {going). I'll call again. Good morning. Clerk. Good day, sir. {Exit Mr, Jones.) Note. — If the part of the Clerk is too long for one small boy to remember, another one, dressed as the storekeeper, with gray whiskers and wig (made of curled hair), might come in and take his place when Mr. Jones enters. In this case the Clerk should sit down and look over his account-books, and appear to write. If the conversation with Mk. Jones is too long, part of it may be omitted, and if the articles mentioned are not at hand, others may be substituted. » KEEPING YOUE EYES OPEE". [For two hoys.] First Boy. Stranger, have you seen a horse straying in this direction ? Second Boy. Was he blind in his right eye 1 First Boy. He was. Second Boy. And lame in one leg 1 First Boy. Yes. Second Boy. Had he lost a front tooth 1 First Boy. He had. Second Boy. And was he not loaded with honey on one side and wheat on the other ? First Boy Most certainly he was. And now will you tell me where to find him ] Second Boy. My friend, I have never seen your horse, nor have I ever heard of him except from yourself. First Boy. A strange assertion truly ! But you have betrayed yourself. I shall hold you responsible for the jewels which formed a part of his burden. You need not resist. You must go with me to the officer of justice and answer to the charge of rob- bery. Second Boy. But hold ! be not too hasty. Hear me: I knew a horse had passed because I knew his track. macaulay's dialogues foe litils folks. 115 First Boy. But how did you know that he had strayed from his owner 1 Second Boy. Because there was no mark of a human footstep on the same route. First Boy. How did you know that he was Uind f Second Boy. Because he cropped the grass only on one side of the path. First Boy. "Whj^ did you suppose him lame f Second, Boy. I noticed that the impression of one foot was fainter than the others. First Boy. How did you know he had lost a front tooth ? Second Boy. Wherever he grazed the herbage w^as left uncrop- ped in the centre of the bk-e. First Boy. AVell, this all seems to be plausible. If you can ex- plain the manner in which you obtained a knowledge of what com- posed his burden, I shall be satisfied. Second Boy. That is easily done. I had only to look at the ants carrying away the wheat on the one side, and the flies devouring the honey on the other. First Boy. I am perfectly satisfied. It only goes to show how much knowledge one may gain by keeping his eyes open. {Exeunt.) THE MOHTHS. [For twelve hoys or girls.] January, Cold winds and ice and chilling snows, Yet cheerful is the heaven above us, -^ When wine taints not the blood that flows Thro' hearts w^e love and hearts that love us. February. Now sifted thro' the freezing air, The snowflakes w^hiten all the city ; Oh, pity the poor victims where The fell destroyer has no pity. 116 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. March. The wind wails like a maniac wild. And shakes the cot from sill to rafter, Pinching with cold the drunkard's child, And mocking her soft tears with laughter. ApriL Now changing days of sun and rain Dissolve the shrinking snow that lingers ; Oh, kindle temperance hopes again — Sweet buds that bloom and feathered singers. May. The fragrant fields and woods are green, And dandelions deck the meadows ; And buttercups of golden sl^en — Sweet cups undimmed by ghastly shadows. June. June is the darling of the year. Full of sweet sounds and sweeter roses ; So let us pledge in water clear The truthful lesson it discloses. July. This is the month of bobolinks And meadows full of fragrant clover ; And happy he who nothing drinks That tumbles men and morals over. August. Oh, days of heat and scorching skies ! Ripening the corn for daily rations ; How welcome is the cloud that flies To fill the cups of thirsting nations ! September. The mellow fruit hangs on the vine, And plenty smiles at all our portals ; Oh, save us from the serpent wine Which in our gardens tempts poor mortals ! October. The woodlands near the rainbow's hue — The colored flag of fair October ; And nothing save the sky is blue ; The meadows lie serene and sober. MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 117 November. The forest leaves are falling fast, For this is cold and drear November ; Oh, man, stand like the woodland mast, Your vows of abstinence remember. December. The hills and vales are robed in snow, And nature now seems calmly sleeping ; Throughout the year this truth we know, Her ;pledge is safe within her keeping ! {Exeunt,) I OAU AND I OAIT'T. \For three boys.] First Boy. As thro' life's journey we go day by day, There are two whom we meet each turn of the way — To help or to hinder, to bless or to ban — And the names of these two are " I Can't " and " I Can." Second Boy. I Can't is a dwarf, a poor, pale, pun}' imp ; His eyes are half blind and his walk is a limp ; He stumbles and falls, or lies writhing with fear, Tho' danger is distant and succor is near. Third Boy. I Can is a giant, unbending, he stands ; There is strength in his arm and skill in his hands ; He asks for no favors ; he wants but a share Where labor is honest and wages are fair. ' First Boy. I CanH is a sluggard, too lazy to work ; From duty he shrinks, every task he will shirk ; No bread on his board, and no meat in his bag , His house is a ruin, his coat is a rag. 118 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOii LITTLE FOLKS. Second Boy. I Can is a worker ; he tills. the broad fields, And digs from the earth all the wealth which it yields ; The hum of his spindles begins with the light, And the fires of his forges are blazing all night. TJiird Boy. I Can^t is a coward, half fainting with fright ; At the first thought of peril he slinks out of sight ; Slinks and hides till the noise of the battle is past, Or sells his best friends and turns traitor at last. First Boy, I Can is a hero, the first in the field ; Tho' others may falter he never will yield ; He makes the long marches, he strikes the last blow, His charge is the whirlwind that scatters the foe. How grandly and nobly he stands to his trust ! When roused at the call of a cause that is just! He weds his strong will to the valor of youth, And writes on his banner the watchword of truth. All Three. Then up and be doing ! the day is not long ; Throw fear to the winds ; be patient and strong ! / Stand fast in your place, act your part like a man ; And when duty calls answer promptly — / can 1 THE GOLDEN EULE. \FoT three hoys, George, Harry and Charley.] George. I never will play with Charley Mason again. He is a rude boy and I don't like him. Harry. Why, George, what is the matter now 1 I thought you and Charley were the best of friends. Geo. But he's got my new India-rubber ball, and says he will keep it. But I say he shan't, shall he ? Harry. How came Charley to run away with your ball ] macaulay's dialogues fok littli: folks. 123 Second Girl. What! not to ask her a question? First Girt. Oh, as to that she helps me, sometimes, when I do not understand my lessons ; she is always good natured about that ; but what I mean is, if I ask her to look at anything ftinny,or want to talk to her about any of our plays a nnnute she says I disturb her, and take off her attention. Second Girl. She complains that you take off her attention, does shel First Girl. Yes ; is not that cross in her ? Second Girl. Mary has learned a very important secret, I see. First Girl. A secret 1 "What ] One that helps her to get her lessons 1 Second Girl. Yes. First Girl. 1 wish I could find it out. Second Giro. I can tell it to you in one word, which you used just now. First Girl. What can it be ] Second Girl. Attention, my dear, attention I That will enable you to learn your ler>soirs as easily as she does. Will you try it ] First Girl. Certamly I will, and if you tell me carrectly, I will sttrely learn my lessons as well as Mary does, and I will thank you for having told me this great secret. {Exeunt.) THE OULY TEUE LITE. [For tcco girls \ Enter Lottie and Louise. Lottie. Oh, we'll have such nice times ! "We'll play and read "books, and have no pestering boys around. Louise. No pestering boys] Why, / like good boys 1 Lottie. Good boys ] I don't know any who are not mean and s^fish. Louise. Why, Lottie ! Ls my brother Fred mean and selfish ] Is your cousin Jim a bad boy 7 What makes yoti talk so ? Lot. Well, they are only two, and they have had such good 124 MACAtJLAY'S DIALOGUES FOK TiTTTLE FOLKS. training that they are as good as boys can be ; but I tell you, Lou, that there is something in boys' and men's natures that is to be dreaded. They are so coarse and rude ; they talk so loud and play so hard ; they are so selfish ; and then, as soon as the}' can get away from their mothers and sisters, they just go and smoke and swear and run out nights — that's what they all do when they can. So now ! Lou. Well, did I ever! I don't see where you got such ideas. One would suppose that you had seen nothing but bad boys and men. Lot. Indeed ! They are always such tyrants. Don't you be- lieve in woman's rights ? Lou. Woman's fiddlesticks ; If by " woman's rights " you mean to degrade the other sex, I don't believe in them. Lot. Oh, I see, you've got a mother who is so mild and weak that she submits to take a servant's place, and teaches her children to be meek and lowly, I suppose. Lou. This is insulting, but it is simply an evidence of the wick- ed spirit of a discontented woman. IMy mother is self-sacrificing and anxious to make her home happy, as every true mother should be, and in doing so is very happy herself. My dear papa never goes anywhere else for his company, for his own home is so charming to him: and Fred never wants to go out on the street to learn bad lessons from the city loafers, because v, e are happy in our own house ; and what you say about men and boys may apply to your own father and cousins, but it is false as false can be as regards most all the men and boys in our circle. Lot. Bah ! My father is no better nor Avorse than yours. He smokes his cigar and spends the evening just where he pleases. I have no brother, for which I am truly glad, and so is mamma, for she says boys are nuisances. Ma and myself have our own way ; vre go where and when we please. That is true independence, and when all women learn to practise it, it will do away with wo- men's subjection, and teach men that they have no rights that women should not have. Lou. Do away with w^ Oman's purity, modesty, and moral beauty, and teach men that there is nothing in this world higher and no- bler than self-gratification — that is really what you mean. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 125 Lot. Well, what a preacher you are, to be sure I One can easily see that you have studied the Good Girl Sunday-school book, and that you will become that model wife and mother of whom the old-style preachers are alwaj^s talking. But this day needs some- thing else — it demands that women shall not be the mere servants of men as they have been. Lou. To what end ? ^^ Lot. Wh}^, to their own advancement. Lou. Advancement — in what ? Lot. In what 7 Well, you are a goose. Why, to do as they please — to vote — to go to Congress if they want to. Lou. Wein Lot. Well? Isn't that something to be desired 1 Lou. Something that woman is neither fitted for, nor, if she does her share — the share imposed on her by an all-wise Creator — ^lias she time for. Her place to rule and reign is in men's hearts, in homes, and her children's affections. Oil, Lottie ! as you value your happiness, as you hope to retain your pov/er as a woman, as you want love and the precious power which it gives, abjure your ideas of change, of independence, of advancement, and be a woman — only a woman ! Lot. Lou — Lou — you are an angel ! Lou. No ; only a girl striving to be a true vroman. That is my ambition. Lot. And a noble ambition it is. My eyes see things more clearly now. As your motto is, so shall mine be, to win the love and admiration of all. Lou, Then indeed you 'will not love in vain. THE lEISH SERVANT. ^ [For two 'boys, Patrick and Gentlemax.] Patrick (botcing and scraping). An' plaze, yer honor, w^ould ye be after giving employment to a faithful servant, who has been rekimmended to call upon yer honor 1 Qentleman. What name may I call you 1 126 MACAULAY's dialogues toe TiTTTLE FOLKS. Pat, My name is Patrick Lynch, and I have always been called Pat ; but you may call me any name you like, sorra a bit I care. Oent. Well, Pat, who was your last master ] Pat. Mr. Jacobs, plaze your honor, and a nicer man never breathed. He was. Gent. How long did you live with Mr, Jacobs 7 Pat. In troth, sir, I can't tell. I passed my time so pleasant in his service, that I never took any account of it at all, at all. I might have lived wid him all the days of my life, and a great deal longer, if I plazed. Gent. Why then did you leave him 1 Pat. It was by mutual agreement. The truth was, w^e didn't much agree, and he said I shouldn't live with him any longer; and at the same time I told him I wouldn't live wid him; so we parted on good terms ; by agreement, you see. Gent. Well, Pat, how old are you now 1 Pat. I'm just the same age as Patrick O'Leary. He and I were born the same wake. Gent. And how old is he 1 Pat. He's jist my age. He and I are jist of an age, only one of us is a little older than the other ; but which is the oldest I cannot say, neither can Patrick. Gent. Where were you born, in Dublin ? Pat. No, sir; plaze your honor, though I might have been if I had desired ; but as I always preferred the country, I was born there; and plaze God, if I live and do well, I'll be buried in the same parish I was born in. Gent. You can write, I suppose 1 Pat. Yes, sir ; as fast as a dog can trot. Gent. What is the usual mode of travelling in Ireland ? Pat. Whj^ sir, if you travel by water, you must take a boat; and if you travel by land, it must be either in a chaise or on horse- back: and they who can't afford either, must trudge on foot, which to my mind, is decidedly the safest and cheapest mode of travelling. Gent. And which is the pleasantest season for travelling 1 Pat. Faith, sir, when a man has mosi money in his pocket. Gent. I think your roads are passably good 7 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 127 Pat. And ye may well say that, yer honor, if ye only pay the toll-man, Gent. I understand yon have many black cattle in Ireland 1 Pat. Faith, we have plenty of every color. Gent. I think you have too much rain in your country. Pat. Yes, yer honor ; but Sir Boyle, bless his soul ! has pro- mised to bring in an act of Parliament in favor of fair weather. It was he that first proposed that every quart bottle should hold just two pints. Gent. As you have many fine rivers I suppose you have an abundance of nice fish 1 Pat. And well you may say that ; for water never wet better ones. Why, master, I don't tell you a lie ; but if you were at the Boyne, you could get salmon and trout for nothing ; and if you were at Ballyshanny you'd get them for much less. Gent. Well, you seem to be a clever fellow, and if you will call to-morrow I will see what I can do for you. Pat, I will, yer honor. Pace to your good soul. {Exeunt.) HAPPINESS NOT IE STATION. {For two hoi/s, Harry and Will.] Harry {icitli basket). I wish I had been born rich or noble, like the little princes, dukes or counts in the old countries ; then I should not have to drag through the streets with this heavy bas- ket on my arm. WiU. Courage, Harry. You are not half so bad off as thousands of poor boys in the streets. Harry. I know that, but I'm a great deal worse off than some are. I don't see why I should have to v;ork and^drudge all my days, when others, who are no better than I am, have everything they can wish for, without having to lift a finger. Yt^ill. But princely and noble children are no more likely to be happy and contented than poorer boys and girls. Harry. Why, how is that 1 Don't little princes and nobles have parks and mansions and palaces, and everything that anybody 128 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. can want 1 I think it must be very nice to live in a grand palace, and be dressed in fine clothes, and then to ride out every day in a splendid coach drawn by gay horses, and to have people say, " There is the little prince. " Will. If you should read some of the stories about royal chil- dren, you would change j^our mind. They carry heavier loads on their hearts tlian you do on your arm. Have you ever heard about the little Dauphin, son of King Louis the Sixteenth '? Harry. No ; was his name Dauphin 1 Seems to me they might have given him a better name than that. Will. His name was Louis. The oldest son of the King of France is called the Dauphin, just as the oldest son of the sovereign of England is called Prince of Wales. Harry. Oh, that s it ! But how about the prince, didn't he have a pleasant life ? Will. No ; he was a good child, and deserved to be happy, yet trouble came to him when he was very young. The people of France took away the crown from his father, and the family w^ere shut up in the palace of the Tuilieries. Soon the French people resolved to put King Louis to death. The little prince entreated his father to let him go and implore the people on his knees not to kill his father. Poor boy ! his parents and aunt were soon after led out to die. Harry. Why, I supposed that kings and queens were all loved by their people. I'm sure it was very cruel to put them to death. But what became of the little prince 1 Will. He was shut up in jjrison closely, under a brutal keeper. There he was ill treated, and finally left to pine aw^ay in sickness, until his body became worn out. Harry. Well, I'm very sorry for the poor little prince. That wasn't a very happy life I am sure. Will. No. Crowns and palaces are more troublesome to their owners than heavy baskets to ambitious boys. Take up your load then, and show yourself as brave in spirit as you are strong in body. The truly great are the truly good, and the truly good are the truly happy. Harry. I have never thought of these things before, but if princes are treated as you represent, I am sure I do not wish to be MACAUIiAY's PIAIiOGtTES FOR LITTIiE FOLKS, 129 one. Henceforth my motto shall be, ''Contentment with my lot, and happiness in doing my duty." (Exeunt) SLANDER [For tiDO hoys, Smith and Jones.] SmitJi. Natural — perfectly. '' Birds of a feather flock together.'* Jones. What did you observe, sir 1 Smith. Merely that you, sir, being an intimate friend of Mr. Brown, can justify acts of his which would, to less partial minds, appear in a very dubious light, Jones. Say what you please, sir, — Mr. Brown is an estimable citizen, and enjoys in a high degree the respect of the community in which he lives. Smith. I know of nothing to the contrary ; and say naught against him, save that the villagers say he is tight as a mackerel barrel, and the pink of parsimony. Jones. Sir, as the friend of Mr. Brown I pronounce your assertion a gross libel. Smith. I might, perhaps, mention an incident which would cause you to change your opinion, and to shower epithets and impreca- tions upon the head of him you now so warml}^ defend. Jones. Impossible ! But I will hear what slander has to say, that I may vindicate the fair fame of my friend. Proceed. Smith. As you request it, I will. Having been delayed by business one night till a late hour, say eleven or twelve o'clock — I was returning home, and on my route passed neighbor Brown's door. I had not gone far when suddenly there broke forth the most piercing and agonizing screams I ever heard. The sounds struck me with terror, and for a moment I was paralyzed. The shrieks continued, and became if possible terrifying. Such sounds had never before disturbed the quiet of our little neighborhood. What foul work could the old man be doing ^ Upon what helpless being was he, at the dead of night, inflicting his vengeance 7 Was it the death-cry of some way-worn traveller 7 Avarice was all that had been laid to his charge. But what will that same demon 130 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. avarice cause frail humanity to do for gold? It never pleased me to look into those small gray ej^es of his. And Jones. You alarm me. Did you ever ascertain the cause 1 Smitli, Patience ! And was the life-blood of a fellow being flowing so near, and I an idle listener '? The very thought inspired me with courage. I rushed to the house, and hurled myself against the barred and bolted oaken door. It gave way with a crash, and entering, I found myself in the presence of your friend. There he stood — scarcely regarding my sudden entering, so intent was he on the accomplishment of his fell purpose. In one hand he clutched a sharp-pointed, rusty file, while with the long and bony fingers of the other he held with a miser's grasp his vic- tim, whence came such despairing, such terrible and heart-rending screams. Jones. The old villain ! Smith. A flickering taper cast its sickly rays upon his pale fea- tures, and, regardless of my presence, he proceeded with his work. Jones. But could you render no assistance 1 Smith. None whatever. Jones. And did the old fiend accomplish his foul purpose 1 Smith. Fully. It was not his first essay at the business ; he was an adept. Jones. Mercy ! And he is stiil at large ! Are there no means to get rid of such a neighbor ? We are not safe. Are there no laws to protect the innocent '? No chains for the guilty V But who, pray tell me, was the victim % Smith. Are you prepared for the worst 1 Jones. Entirely. Smith. I fear not. Jones. Be assured, my dear sir, I am. Smith. Can you keep a secret 7 Jones. Aye, till the end of time, if need be. Smith. Still, there is so much deceit and treachery in the world, you must pardon me if I doubt. Jones. I pledge my word. Smith. Well, sir, the victim was — I fear to expose your friend. Jones. My friend ! rather say the knave ! the hypocrite I aye, if it must out — the murderer ! MACAULAY's DIAIiOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 131 Smith. Be calm, I entreat you. Excitement availeth nothing. True, misplaced affection and friendship, unworthily bestowed, may well make the heart sick. But we should seek to forget the sad cause of our mind's unrest. Jones. Yet I would know all. The law requires of you a knowl- edge of this affair. Smith. Indeed ! Jones. Do not, I pray you, keep me any longer in suspense. Smith. I have inadvertently disclosed too much. But I will yield to your impatience. Once more — are you prepared for the worst ? Jones. Yes, yes ! Smith. Then, sir, the victim's name was Flint, and the old chap was endeavoring to skin it with a file. Hence its outcries. Good- day, sir. Ha! ha! ha! (Exeunt.^ THE EEAL aENTLEMAN. , [For two hoys.] Harry. Tom, when are you going to begin your dancing '? You will be so old in a short time that you will be ashamed to be seen taking your fine positions. To7n. I don't know as I shall begin at all. Father says h? don't care a fig whether I learn to jump any better than I do now; and, as I am to be a tradesman, he is determined, at present, to keep me at the reading and writing schools. Harry. That must be very dull and dry for you. And what good will all such learning do you, so long as you make the awk- ward appearance you do at presents I am surprised at your father's folly. So, because you are to be a tradesman, you are not to learn the graces'? I expect to learn a trade, too. But my father says I shall first learn the dancing trade ; and then, if I never learn any other, I shall make my way through the world well enough, Tom, I don*t know who discovers the most folly, your father or 132 MACAXJIiAY*S DIAIiOGUES FOK LITTLE FOLKS. mine. Old folks certainly know more than young ones ; and my father is much the oldest man. Harry. I don't believe that doctrine. There's Jack Upstart knows more than his father and mother both, and he is hut nineteen yet. And he says the present generation under five-and- twenty years of age knows more than fifteen generations that have gone before us. Tom. I don't know how that is. But father taught me this proverb : Young folks think old folks are fools, but old folks know young folks to be so. But to return to school. Pray how far have you gone in arithmetic '? Harry. Arithmetic 1 I haven't begun that yet ; nor shall I begin it until I have completed dancing. That is an ugly study ; I know I shall never like it. Tom. Writing, I suppose, you are fond of 1 Harry. I can't say I am, Tom. It's no mark of a gentleman to write elegantly. Tom. You would have a gentleman spell well, I suppose 1 Harry. I would have him spell well enough to be understood, and that is enough for any man. Tom. "What say you to grammar and geography 1 Harry. Don't name them, I entreat you. I'll tell you what, Tom, I would rather be master of one good hornpipe than to understand all the grammars and geographies that have been published since the art of printing was discovered. Tom. I am sorry, friend Harry, to hear you speak so contempt- uously of the solid sciences. I hope you don't mean to neglect them entirely. If you do, you must expect to live in poverty, and die the scorn and derision of all wise men. Harry. Never fear that, Tom. I shall take care of myself, 1 warrant you. You are much mistaken in your prognostications. Why, there's Tom Fiddlefaddle — he can't even write his name ; and as for reading, he scarcely knows B from a broomstick ; and yet he can dance a minuet with any master of the art in Christen- dom. And the ladies all love him dearly. He is invited to their balls, routs, assemblies, card-parties, etc., etc., and he diverts them like a monkey. Tom, And does he expect it will be the same through lifel MACAULAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 133 How is he to be maintained when he becomes old '? And how is he to amuse himself after he is too old to dance ? So you say he can neither read nor write '? Harry. Why, in fact, I never thought of these things before. Tom, I am no enemy to dancing, I assure you, friend Harry. It is an accomplishment suitable enough for those to learn who expect to have but little else to do. But for you and me, who expect to get our living by some mechanical profession, there are doubtless many pursuits more advantageous. I think we ought to employ a very small part of our time in learning to dance. We will suppose, for instance, that you learn the trade of a carpenter, I would ask you if it would not be necessary to understand figures, so that you might be able to keep your own accounts ; and so much geometry as to be able to measure heights and distances, superfices and solids 1 Would it not be very convenient to under- stand a little of history in order to acquaint yourself with the vari- ous orders of architecture, and where they had their origin 1 Harry. Well, after all, you are right; but these are subjects which cousin Tim says never are agitated in the fashionable cir- cles which he visits. And so I bid you good-bye. {Exeunt in opposite directions.) THE KNOW NOTHINa. [For four toys, Counsel, Sheriff and Judge and Wilkins.] Counsel. Sheriff, please to call in John Wilkins. Sheriff. Here comes Mr. Wilkins into court. Enter Wilkins. Counsel. Mr. Wilkins, did you attend the sale of the property of John Dubberly 1 Wilkins. I think I did. Counsel. You think you did. Did you keep the minutes of that sale "l Wilkins. Don't know, sir, but I did. Don't recollect whether I 134 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. kept the minutes, or the sheriff, or nobody. I think it was one of ns. Counsel. Well, sir, will you tell me what articles were sold on that occasion '? Wilkins (hesitating). Well, sir, I can't say. I remember there was a good many things sold, but can't say exactly what. Counsel. Did you on that occasion sell a threshing machine 1 Wilkins. Yes, I think we did. Counsel. I wish you to be positive. Are you sure of it 1 Wilkins. Can't say that I am sure of it ; and when I come to think of it I don't know as we did — think we didn't. Counsel. Will you swear then that you didn't sell one 1 Wilkins. No, sir, don't think I would, for I can't say whether we did or didn't. Counsel. Did you sell a horse-power 1 Wilkins. Horse-power 1 . Counsel. Yes, horse-power. Wilkins. Horse-power! Well, it seems to me we did. And then it seems to me we didn't. I don't know now whether I can recollect whether I remember there was any horse-power there. I can't say whether we sold it or not. But I don't think we did, though it may be, perhaps, that we did, after all. It's some time ago, and I don't like to say certainly. Counsel. Well, you swear to that, do you'? Wilkins. Well, no, I can't say I would like to. Counsel. Did you sell a fanning-mill 1 Wilkins. Yes, sir, we sold a fanning-mill. I guess I am sure of that. Counsel. Well, you swear to that, do you ? — that one thing, though I don't see it on the list. ( looks at 'paper.') Wilkins. Why, I may be mistaken about it ; perhaps I am.' It may be it was somebody's else fanning-mill at some other time — not sure. Counsel, (^addressing Judge.) I should like to know, may it please the court, what this witness does know, and what he is sure of? Wilkins {to Counsel). Well, sir, I know one thing that I'm sure of; and that is, that on that sale we sold either a threshing- MACAULAY'S dialogues for liirTIiE FOLKS. 135 machine, or a horse-power, or a fanning-mill, or one, or all, or either of them ; but I don't know which. Sheriff. Court's adjourned ! {Exeunt,) PEDIGEEE. [For two girls J Mary and Aunt Betty.] Mary. Aunt Bettj^, why are you always mending that old pic- ture up stairs 1 Aunt Betty. Old picture, Miss ! and pray, who told you to call it an old picture '? Mary. Pray, aunt, is it not an old picture 1 I am sure it looks ragged enough. Aunt B. And pray, niece, is it not ten times more valuable on that account "l I wish I could ever make you entertain a proper respect for your family. Mary. Do I not respect the few that remain of them, and your- self among the rest ] But what has that old — what shall I say 1 — to do with our family 1 Aunt B. It is our family coat-of-arms ; the only document which remains to estabhsh the nobility and purity of our blood. Mary. What is puritj^ of blood, aunf? I am sure I have heard Mrs. Pimpleton say your complexion was almost orange, and she believed, she said, that it arose from some impurity of the blood. Aunt B. Tut, tut, you hussy ! I am sure my complexion Avill not suffer by a comparison with any of the Pimpleton race. Mary. But what is pure and noble blood, aunt 1 Aunt B. Blood, my dear, which has proceeded from some great and celebrated man, through the vein^ of many generations, with- out any mixture with vulgar blood. Mary. Then whom do we proceed from, aunt Betty 7 Aunt B. From Sir Gregory MacGrincell, who lived in the time of Elizabeth, and left a dozen sons, from the youngest of whom, James MacGrincell; gentleman,, we are descended. 136 MAOAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOR UTTLE FOLKS. Mary. What does a gentleman mean, aunt '? Aunt B. It means one who has too high a sense of his ancestry to engage in any of what are called the useful employments. Mary. It must mean a lazy man, then, I should think. Was he not extremely poor, aunt ? Aunt B. Poor ! What is poverty in the scale of nobilitj^ '? It is the glor}^ of our house that they have always preferred honor- able poverty to disgraceful industry. Mary. Wh}^, aunt, everybody does not think as you do. I heard the parson's wife say you would be a better Christian, and serve your Maker more faithfully, by doing something profitable, than by spending your time in idleness, and depending upon the church for support. Aunt B. She had better mind her own business, and not slan- der her parishioners. Mighty well, indeed, if the descendant of Sir Gregory MacGrincell is to be taught her duty to her ances- tors by the daughter of a ploughman, and the wife of a country parson. Mary. I am sure she is a very good woman, and my mother considers her a pattern of humility. Aunt B. Did she display her humihty in walking before me at the deacon's funeral 7 Answer me that. Mary. She had not the arrangement of the procession, aunt. Aunt B. She ought to have known her place, however. I shall take care how I go to any more vulgar funerals, to be insulted, I promise you. Mary. I cannot see what should make us better than our neigh- bors ; for my mother once told me that your grandfather was only a hostler. Aunt B. Your mother takes a great deal of pains to expose the dark spots in our escutcheon. But did she not tell you that, when my grandfather was engaged in that profession, it was cus- tomary for gentlemen to be their own grooms 1 No, I'll warrant you. Mary. Then there is no disgrace in any employment, if it be only fashionable 1 Aunt B. None at all, my dear ; for Count Rumford was a cook, and Sir Isaac Newton a spectacle maker. MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOR UTTLE FOLKS. 137 Mary, But of what use is our noble blood in this country, aunt, where merit alone is respected 7 Aunt B. Merit, indeed ! and what have we to do with merit '? It is well enough for those of vulgar origin to possess merit ; the well-born do not need it. Mary. How did your great ancestor obtain his title, then % Aunt B, 0, to be sure, the founder of a family must do some- thing to deserve his title. Mary. What did Sir Gregory do '? Aunt B. Do ! Why, he painted so flattering a likeness of Queen Elizabeth that she knighted him immediately. Mary. Then he was a painter by trade 1 Aimt B. The minx! By trade ! Be it known to you, miss, we have never had a tradesman in our family, and I trust I never shall live to see the day so degraded. Painting was merely Sir Gregory's profession. Mary. I hope I shall learn, in time, to make the proper distinc- tions, but I fear it will be very difficult. My mother always taught me to allow no other distinction than that of personal merit and worth. I don't see the propriety of any other. Aunt B. No, and I presume you never will, while your mother entertains her present low ideas of meritorious industry^ as she is pleased to call the occupation of those who are mean enough to work for their living. I did hope to make you sensible of the dig- nity of your descent ; but I now find I must look elsewhere for an heir to my invaluable legacy, this precious, precious coat of arms. {Exeunt.) THE EIYAL OEATOES. SCENE. — The platform of a school room. Characters. — Thomas Trotter, a large hoy, with a " big voice ;^^ and Samuel Sly, a small boy with a shrill, high-keyed voice. Thomas enters and bows to audience, followed by Samuel, who goes through the same ceremony a little in his rear. Thomas {turning partially round). What do you want here '? 138 macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. Samuel, I want to speak my piece, to be sure. Ihomas. Well, you will please to wait until /get through ; it's my turn now. Samuel. No, tain't your turn either, my learned friend ; excuse me for contradicting ; but if I don't stick out for my rights, no- body else will. My turn came before that fellow's who said "his voice was still for war ; " but I couldn't think how my speech began then, and he got the start of me. Thomas. Yqvj well ; if you were not ready when your turn came, that's your fault, and not mine. Go to your seat, and don't bother me any more. Samuel. Well, that's cool, I declare — as cool as a load of ice in February. Can't you ask some other favor, Mr. Trotter'? Thomas. Yes ; hold your tongue. Samuel. Can't do that ; I'm bound to get off my speech first. You see it's running over, like a bottle of beer, and I can't keep it in. So here goes : — "My name is Norval; on the Grampian Hills My father feeds" Thomas {interruptiiig him^ commences his piece in a loud tone), " Friends, Komans and Countrymen ! " Samuel. Greeks, Irishmen, and fellow-sojers ! Ihomas, '' Lend me your ears." Samuel. Don't do it ; he's got ears enough of his own. Thomas. "I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." Samuel {mimicking his gestures). I come to speak my piece, and I'll do it, Caesar or no Caesar. " My name is Norval " Thomas {ad'oancing toward him in a threatening attitude). Sam Sly, if you don't stop your fooling, I'll put you off the stage. Samuel {retreating). Don't ! don't you touch me, Tom, you'll joggle my piece all out of me again. Thomas. Well, then, keep still until I get through, {to audience) " Friends, Romans, Countrymen ! lend me your ears ; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him." Samuel. I say. Tommy, what are you bla-a-a-a-r-ting about 1 have you lost your calf % macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 139 Thomas, "The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar. " {]ie is again hrought to a stop ly Sam, who is standing behind him, mimicking his gestures in a ludicrous manner) Now, Sam, I tell you to stop your monkey-shines ; if you don't I'll make you. Samuel, You stop your spouting about Caesar then, and let me have my say. You needn't think you can cheat me out of my rights because you wear higher heel shoes than I do. Thomas. I can tell you one thing, sir — nothing but your size saves you from a good flogging. Samuel. Well, that is a queer coincidence ; for I can tell you that nothing but your size saves you from a good does of Solo- mon's panacea, {to audience) I don't know what can be done with such a long-legged fellow — he's too big to be whipped, and he isn't big enough to behave himself. Now, all keep still, and let me begin again. '' My name is Norval " Thomas. " I come to bury Caesar " Samuel. I thought you'd buried him once, good deeds, bones and all ; how many times are you going to do it '? Thomas, Sam, I'm a peaceable fellow ; but if you go much farlher, I won't be responsible for the consequences. Samuel, I'm for piece too, but it's 7ny piece, and not your long rigmarole about Caesar, that I go for. As I said before, "My name is " TJiomas. "The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious ; If it were so, it were a grievous fault. And grievously hath Caesar answered it." Samuel {in a loud whisper). I say, Tom, did you know you had got a hole in your unwhisperables % Thomas, " Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus is an honorable man — So are they all, all honorable men), Come I to speak at Caesar's funeral." Samuel. This isn't Caesar's funeral — it's the exhibition of the 140 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Spankerton Academy, and its my turn to officiate, so get out with Caesar. " My name is Nor " Thomas. " He was my friend, faithful and just to me ; But Brutus says he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honorable man." Samuel, Brutus be hanged ; who cares for what he said 1 Came, you've sputtered enough; now give me a chance to say something. " My name is " TJiomas {to audience). Ladies and gentlemen, you see it is useless for me to attempt to proceed, and I trust you will excuse me from performing my part, (bows and retires.) Samuel. Yes, I hope you will excuse him, ladies and gentleman. The fact is, he means well enough ; but, between you and me, he doesn't know a wheelwright from a right wheel. I m sorry to say his education has been sadly neglected, as you all perceive. He hasn't enjoyed the advantages that I have for learning good manners. And then did you ever hear such a ridiculous spouter % He might make a very decent town crier, or auctioneer, or some- thing of that sort — but, to think of Tommy Trotter pretending to be an orator, and delivering a funeral oration over Csesar ! 0, my ! it's enough to make a cat laugh ! Now, ladies and gentlemen, as the interruption has ceased, I will proceed with my part : — *' My name is Norval ; on the Grampian Hills My father feeds his flocks — — " And — and — and — {aside to a hoy near him) What is it 1 {to au- dience) *' Feeds his his flocks," and — and — and — there ! I'll be blowed if I haven't got stuck dead a' ready ! Just as I expected ; that lubber, that came to bury Csesar, has bullied all the ideas out of my head. {Beats an inglorious retreat with his hands over his face.) MAOAUIiAX'S DIALOGUES FOB LITTLB FOLKS. 141 SMEISE AUD STJNSET. [For three girls.] First GirL How beautiful is the morning, The childhood of the day ; Fair as an infant smiling Beams its first rosy ray. How pure and sweet the flowers, Its holy dews have kissed ; How gorgeous are its cloudlets Of gold and amethyst. AIL Oh, then earth, sky and air with music ring, And like the lark our souls at heav'n's gate sing. Such be the morning of our life's young day, Without a care to dim its rosy way. Second GirL But morn, sweet morn, must vanish ; The sun ascendeth higher ; The purple clouds are scattered Before his glance of fire : The flowers bend pale and drooping, Robbed of their pearly dew ; No lark's glad song is trilling Yon sky of burning blue. AIL Then comes the heat and burden of the day, Then must we toil beneath the scorching ray. Toil bravely on with patient, willing feet, For there remaineth yet a rest more sweet. \ Third GirL Then, lovelier than the morning, ^ With soft and rosy ray, Shall come the peaceful evening, To crown the well-spent day. 142 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. As balmy are the blossoms Its holy dews have kissed ; As rich its sunset glories Of gold and amethyst. All, Then is the time to rest : 'neath angel wings To slumber safe, till a new morning springs. Thus beauteous be life's declining ray. Thus may we sleep and wake to endless day ! WHAT TO BE. [For six girls or hoys.] First, Be patient — life is very brief, It passes quickly by ; And if it prove a troubled scene Beneath a stormy sky, It is but like a shaded night That brings a morn of radiance bright. Second, Be hopeful — faith will bring A living joy to thee, And make thy life a hymn of praise. From doubt and murmur free ; Whilst, like a sunbeam, thou wilt bless, And bring to others happiness. Third. Be earnest — an immortal soul Should be a worker true ; Employ the talents for thy God, And ever keep in view The judgment scene, the great last day. When sky and earth shall pass away. Fourth. Be holy — let not sin's dark stain The spirit's whiteness dim ; Keep close to God amid the world, And put thy trust in him ; macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 14:3 So midst llij^ business and thy rest, Thou Avilt be comforted and blest. Fifth. Be praj^erful — ask and thou wilt have Strength equal to thy day ; Prayer clasps the hand that guides the world, Oh ! make it then thy stay ; Ask largely, and thy God will be A kingly giver unto thee. Sixth, Be ready — many fall around, Our loved ones disappear. We know not when our call may come, Nor shall we wait in fear ; If ready we can calmly rest ; Living or dying we are blest ! LITTLE BY LITTLE. [For two hoys.] First. One step and ihen another, And the longest walk is ended ; Second. One stitch and then another, And the largest rent is mended ; First, One brick upon another, And the highest wall is made ; Second. One flake upon another. And the deepest snow is laid. First. So the little coral workers. By their slow but constant motion, Have built those pretty islands In the distant dai-k blue ocean. Second. And the noblest undertakings Man's wisdom hath conceived, By oft-repeated efforts Have been patiently achieved. 144 MAOAUIiAY'S DIAIiOGtJES FOB lilTTLE FOLKS, DAEE AND DO. [For a class.] Dare to think, though others frown ; Dare in words your thoughts express ; Dare to rise, though oft cast down ; Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. Dare from custom to depart ; Dare the priceless pearl possess ; Dare to wear it next your heart ; Dare, when others curse, to bless. Dare forsake what you deem wrong ; Dare to walk in wisdom's way ; Dare to give where gifts belong ; Dare God's precepts to obey. Do what conscience says is right ; Do what reason says is best ; Do with all your mind and might ; Do your duty, and be blest ! WHAT SATS THE POUNTADr ? [For two girls.] First Girl. What says the fountain, Hid in the glade. Where the tall mountain Throws its dim shade 1 Second Girl. Deep in my waters reflected serene, AH the soft beauty of heaven is seen ; Thus let thy bosom, from wild passions free, fiver the mirror pf purity be. MAOAUIiAY*S DIAIjOGUES FOR UTTLE FOLKS. 145 First Girl, What says the streamlet Flowing so bright, Clear as a beamlet Of silvery light 1 Second Girl. Morning and evening still floating along, Upward forever ascendeth my song ; Be thou contented whate'er may befall, Cheerful in knowing that God is o'er all. Mrst Girl. What says the river, Majestic in flow, Moving forever Calmly and slow 1 Second Girl. Over my surface the great vessels glide. Ocean- ward borne by my strong, heaving tide ; Toil on, my brother, life vanisheth fast, Labor unwearied, rest cometh at last. FKrst Girl. What says the ocean, Boundless as night, Ceaseless in motion. Resistless in might 1 Second Girl. Fountain to streamlet, streamlet to river, All in my bosom commingle forever ; Morning to noontide, noontide to night, Soon will eternity veil thee from sight ! ^ GOSSIP. [For four girls, Miss Marvel, Miss Gad, Miss Slander and Miss Upham.] Miss Marvel. Who would have thought it, Miss Slander 1 Miss Gad. You don't say so. Miss Slander! Miss Slander. Oh, but it's quite true. It must be. Besides, my brother William heard it at the barber's shop. Miss Marvel. Well, now, I always had my suspicions — there 146 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. was always a something, a what-do-ye-call-it sort of a look about the Uphams, that I never liked. Miss Slander. They say it's all over town — at least brother Wil- liam says it must be. But whether or no, that's the fact. John Upham's shop is shut up this morning. Miss Gad. Well, well, it is no more than I always said it would come to. Miss Slander. They certainly always lived above their station. As my brother William often said to me, '' Nancy," says he, " mark my words ; for all that them Uphams hold up their noses like con- ceited peacocks, as they are, pride will have a fall," says he, " pride will have a fall !" Miss Manuel. And such goings on, Miss Slander, to be sure — such goings on ! Parties, parties, parties, from Monday till Sat- urday — the best joint at the butcher's, the nicest loaf at the bak- er's always bespoke for the Uphams. Well, they must be content now with poor people's fare ! *» Miss Slander. If they can even get that ! For my brother Wil- liam says they will be sold out and out — down to the baby's go- cart. Dear me, dear me. Miss Gad. Only to think. How different it was this time last year. Miss Slander, — Miss Upham with her new velvet dress and Mr. Upham with his new gig, and Master Upham with his new watch, and little Emma Upham with her new fancy hat ! Miss Marml. But everybody could see what was coming. It could not go on forever. That's what I said. But Upham was always such a proud man. Miss Slander. Never would take any body's advice but his own — there — it was no later than Wednesda}^ week when my brother Wilham civilly asked him, in the most neighborly way in the world, if he wanted a little conversation with a friend about his affairs, like as they were going backward visible ; and what do you think he said'? "William," said he, "you and your sister Nancy go chattering about like a couple of human magpies, only the bird's instincts are better than your reason." That's just what he said, the brute. Miss Marvel. Brute, indeed. Miss Slander, you may well say that. Bird's instinct forsooth ! macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 147 Miss Gad. Set him up to talk reason ! Had he reason enough to keep out of the constable's hands '? Miss Marvel. Hush ! hush ! If here is not Miss Upham herself! Enter Miss Upham. Miss Gad. Well, my dear Miss Upham, I am ver}^ sorry indeed. Miss Marml. I could almost shed tears for you, my dear Miss Upham. Miss Slander. But, Miss Upham, there is one consolation for you — you are not without a friend in the hour of misfortune — you know that. Miss UpJiam. I must beg you to explain yourselves, young la- dies. Miss Slander. Well, Miss Upham, I do not think you have any reason noio to put on those proud airs. Miss Gad. It is hardly worth while to keep a secret that is known all over town. Miss Slander. You would do better to remember, Miss Upham, that pride will have a fall. Miss Upham — pride will have a fall ! Miss Upham. Well, ladies, I must ask you once more to explain yourselves. Miss Marvel. Well, Miss Upham, does not your father's shop look very different to-day from what it did yesterday ] Miss Upham. Well, I believe it is a very common thing for merchants to take an account of stock at certain seasons of the year. That's why my father's shop was shut up for a short time this morning. Miss Marvel. Taking an account of stock 1 Miss Upham. Yes, Miss Marvel. Miss Gab. And that is the reason why the door of your father's shop was shut this morning '? Miss Upham. Yes, Miss Gab. Miss Slander. And you are not to be sold out 1 Miss Upham. Not that I know of, Miss Slander. Miss Marvel. I wish you a very good evening. Miss Upham. Miss Upham. Good evening, Miss Marvel. Miss Gab. I hope no offence 1 {Exit Miss Marvel.) 3liss Upham. Not in the least. Miss Gab. Miss Slander. Give my love to all, Miss Upham. {Exit Miss Gab.) 148 MACAULAY'S dialogues for lilTTIiE FOLKS. Miss UpJiani. With pleasure, Miss Slander. (JS'aji^ Miss Slander.) There go Marvel, Gab, and Slander ; how full of spite and mis- chief they are ! May I take warning from that trio, and keep from gossiping. {Exit Miss Upham.) THE POTTEES. [For six boys, with appropriate actions.] '•• First Boy, Oh, potters, good potters, what is it you do 7 The others five Boys. We're making a fine earthen bowl for you. Out of the earth comes the tough, hard clay ; We grind it and beat it and knead it all day. Now pressed into shape, on our wheels you behold it ; As it twirls, as it whirls, see us fashion and mould it. Then we set up high on the shelves to dry. With the jugs and the mugs you shall see by-and-by. Then deep in the great, dark oven we place it ; There slowly we heat it, and bake it, and glaze it. When at last it comes out, it will be a nice basin For you, my fine fellow, to wash your nice face in ! I • WOETH, NOT VEALTH. [For four boys.] Enter John, Charles, Fred and Robert. John. Thanksgiving is here ! Hurrah, boys ! Now for a feast ! What are you going to have, Fred 1 Fred Why, roast turkey, of course. What are you going to have, Charlie 1 Charles. Roast goose and a big plum-pudding. What are you to have, Robert 1 ^ macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 149 Rob. I don't know. John. Don't know'? Fred. Perhaps he's got nothing 7 Chas, His father is poor, so, I suppose, he can't afford a feast. I'm sorry, Bob, but I tell you what, you come home with me. Rob. Thank you ; but I prefer to go to my own home. Fred. What ! and have nothing good for dinner '? That's queer. John. Misery loves company ; he prefers to be miserable with his brothers and sisters. Rob. Well, suppose I do, — whose business is it 1 John. Oh, not mine, I'm sure ; I don't bother about poor folks. Ghas. None of that, John. Poor or not poor he's one of us, and as good as any of us. Fred. I say, Charley, suppose we give Bob a lift? Rob. Fred, do you think I'm a subject for charity % If so, I can assure you that I cannot and will not accept of any aid. My father would punish me if I did. John. Poor and proud ! Poor folks usually take all they can get. Rob, I'll tell you one thing they don't take kindly, and that is impudence and assurance. Pray, who are you to talk so about the poor "? Your father's wealth was obtained through no effort of your own, and so far as you are concerned j^ou are not one v/hit the better, or one whit worse than any other boy who has his way in the world to make. Just understand, sir, that if somebody didn't give you money you would not have a cent to your name. I have helped my father in various ways. I work mornings and evenings and vacations, and I spend not a dollar foolishly, so that when I am a man I can say I have been no burden to my father, and have the proud satisfaction of knowing that all the fortune I shall have will not be the gift of any one. Fred. AVell there, Bob ; you have preached a Thanksgiving ser- mon beforehand. Ghas. It's better than some sermons we hear — all sound and no sense. John. I am rebuked Give me your hand, Robert, and forgive what I have said, {they shake hands) I'll never again put on airs to you or any other boy. I see that it is not wealth that makes 150 macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. worth ; but worth that makes wealth. I will forever, hereafter, regard Worth and not Wealth'. {Exeunt.) TEUE USEFULNESS. [For two lyoySj Thomas and Edward.] lliomas. Life is much like a musical instrument on which every one plays to suit himself. Don't you think so, Edward 1 Edward, Yes, — and all the better for that. The more music, the better I like it. A merry noise always suits me — and any one who don't set his hours to music has a dull time of it. Ihos. All this might be very well, friend Edward, if life had no serious duties which call for our attention. Ought we not to improve our minds and get that knowledge which will fit us for usefulness 1 Ed. Usefulness ! Why, in the present day for a man to pre- pare himself for usefulness, is like carrying coals to Newcastle. Our country is full of useful men : ten, at least, where one is want- ed, and all of them ten times as ready to serve the public as the public is to be served. Why, if every man who is qualified should go to Congress, Washington would not hold a quarter of them. Ihos. You mean all who think themselves fit to go. Ed. No ; I mean all I said. IJios. Then what do you think fits a man for Congress 1 Ed. Why, he must be flippant and bold. Thos. What good will that do him if he is without knowledge ? Ed. Oh, he must have knowledge, to be sure. Ihos. Well, must he not be a man whom the people can trust '? Must he not understand politics, and be willing to serve his coun- try ] Ed. Weil, I agree to all that. Thos. Then you think our Capital would hardly hold the men who unite eloquence with confidence, knowledge with honesty, and policy with patriotism ? I fear a much smaller space would hold them all. MxiCAULAY'S DIxVLOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 151 Ed, Weil, I don't go so deep into these matters. But this I know, there are always men enough who want all the offices. Thos. Very true. But are there no other ways of doing good, and serving the public '? Ed. Wh}^, yes. One may preach if he will do it for little or nothing ; or he may practice law or medicine, if he can get people enough to employ him; or teach school, if he will live on a trifle and " board round ; " but I tell you the country is crowded with ■learned men begging business. Titos. So you intend to prepare yourself for the ignorant herd, that you may not be crowded 7 Ed. Yes, I have serious thoughts of it. llios. Well, Edward, you have your choice ; but I shall set my hours to a more serious tune. I ask no bond of the public. I shall gain all the knowledge I can, that I may be useful and do good in the world — and then I shall be contented enough to know that I have done wdiat I could for the good of others. {Exeunt.) BOYS' AND GIELS' TALE ABOUT WOMAN SUPPEAGE. MARY F. BRADY. SCENE. — Scliool-room ; Scholars seated. Each one rises as he repeats. First Boy {seated reading a neicspaper ; froicns, jumps up and throiDS down the paper in disgust). There ! I am almost ready to declare that I will never touch another newspaper as long as I live ! First Girl. That would be a sensible plan, if reading the pa- pers always make you look as cross as you do now ; but what is it that makes your '' angry passions rise " 1 Is there a sudden rise in the price of molasses candy, or is the supply of marbles in danger of failing '? First Boy. No sarcasm, if you please, Miss Lizzie ; you well know that I am above such petty things as molasses candy and marbles. The matter is this : I can't takes up a newspaper but 152 MACAtlLAY's DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. the first thing that meets my eye is an article about " Woman's Rights" or " Woman Suffrage," or something of the sort. I have long desired to express my opinion upon the subject. Second Boy (very small boy). And I too ; I should hke to know what right these women have to order us men around ! Second Girl. Come, come, Johnnie, you'd better be less talkative till you're a little older. " Little children should be seen and not heard," you know, {turning to first boy) But what is there in " Woman's Rights " to excite you so muchl Why shouldn't wo- men have their rights 1 First Boy. Have their rights 1 Of course they should, and do have their rights — but have the suffrage I the idea of a woman wanting to vote ! 0, nonsense ! Tliird Boy. I agree with you entirely. Woman should keep within her own sphere, and attend to her own duties, and let those of men alone. Third Girl. Will you be kind enough to give us your idea of wo- man's sphere and duties 1 Third Boy. Woman's sphere is her home, and her duty is to make that home happy. Fourth Girl, I agree with Harry that a woman's duty is to make her home happy. But I also say that the very fact that she can maintain a well-regulated household, is one of the many proofs that she is capable of having a voice in selecting a ruler who will make the country happy and maintain a well-regulated govern- ment. Second Boy. 0, pooh ! what's housekeeping to do with our elect- ing a president 1 Fourth GirL Irrepressible Johnnie, have you never heard *• Faithful in little, faithful in much " 1 Fourth Boy {to fourth girl). I think your reasoning is shallow. You might as well say, because a donkey is capable of braying he is capable of electing a 2yvima donna for the public. Fifth Girl. I think you have illustrated your argument more aptly than you intended ; I say that an educated woman, a wo- man who has thought upon the subject, is better prepared to vote than half the men that do vote. You know there are men who sell their votes ; men who vote a certain ticket from no settled principle MACAULAT's dialogues fob LITTIiE FOLKS. 153 of right, but simply because it is for their present advantage to do so. Fifth Boy. I have a word to say. Even supposing women are sensible enough to vote, which I very much doubt, why should they want to vote 1 Why can't they be contented to stay at home as their grandmothers didl Ah ! " Times are not as they used to be!" Sixth Girl {with spirit). '' If women are sensible enough " ! In- deed, let me tell you, Sir Complacency, if sense were one of the essential qualifications for voting, the country would never count your vote. On town-meeting days you might ^' stay at home " with your grandmothers. SemntJh Girl. Andrew is rather old-fashioned in his notions. ''Times are not as they used to be!" That has been the com- plaint ever since Adam left the garden of Eden. No doubt he lamented the change of times, his own fault though it was. Sixth Boy. I think there's a little mistake : you know Eve ate the forbidden fruit and then induced Adam to. Semnth Girl. — o! But Adam's "superior mind " ought to have made him '* sensible enough " not to have yielded. Second Boy. Ah, yes ! true enough. Trouble always comes from letting the women have their own way. But one such lesson is enough ; we men have taken warning, and don't intend to be wrecked on that rock again. Eighth Boy. Dear me ! What's the use of making such a fuss over such a little thing 1 If the women want to vote, why not let them vote 7 Ninth Boy. A very little thing is sometimes worth making a fuss over. The '' Stamp Act " and the " Tax on Tea " were very little things, but if a "fuss " had not been made over them where would the Fourth of July be, Johnnie, and wouldn't the inventors of pin- wheels and Roman candles have lived in vain 1 The " fuss" caused the Revolution, and but for the Revolution how could we have sent our fine drawings to the Centennial 1 Eighth Girl. The Revolution ! "I thank thee, George, for giving me that word ! " AVhat was the cause of the Revolution ? simply "Taxation without Representation." Ours is a similar grievance. Many women own property and pay taxes, but have 154: maoaulay's diaijOGues foe little folks. no voice in saying how the money thus raised shall be expended. Tenth Boy. I am willing to allow that there are women capable of voting more intelligently than some men. Some women have great minds, but such are in the minority. Ninth Girl. It's no such thing ! The number of women who make public exhibition of mental strength is small, because oppor- tunity has not been given them, but the number who have strong and great minds is very large. Second Boy. Why don't they show it, then, as we men do ? I contend that a great mind will always make itself manifest. Tenth Girl. Perhaps not, if by so doing it would subject itself to the ridicule of you — great men. Tioelfth Boy. Tell us one good result which would come from woman's voting '? Elersenth Girl. Every good woman in the land would vote against the sale of liquor. Thirteenth Boy. A great many good men vote thus, and prohibi- tory laws are passed, but we all know the thing is still sold, and in great demand. The fact is, no law can stop its sale. If people are not disposed to be temperate, no law can make them so. In this case it is forbidden drink, instead of forbidden fruit. As long as the desire for liquor exists, liquor will be made and will be sold. Twelfth Girl. Amazing sense ! Following up your theory there is no need of any law. If men are disposed to murder, they will murder ; if disposed to steal, they will steal ; and so on to the end of the chapter ! The more the law says ''Thou shalt not do so and so," the more they will do it. Fourteenth Boy. It seems to me we have lost sight of our sub- ject. Let us return. Suppose women are allowed to vote : how many do you think would use the privilege 1 At the first elec- tion probably quite a good number might, just for novelty ; but they would soon tire of it. They think it fun to make a great cry over their "rights" just now, but let the duties of citizen- ship fall upon them and they will make as loud a cry for their wrongs again, since they will lose woman's greatest luxury — that of complaining. Thirteenth Boy. Then, again, the privilege of voting compels men " to bear arms in defence of their country." Now just imag- macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 155 ine an army composed of men and women, the men in uniform, and the women wearing trails, kid gloves, and " loves of bonnets !" I suppose in the " heat of battle " each would need a porasol and a fan ! Second Girl. Don't be absurd ! You know that white gloves form a part of the regulation dress of the city police. You don't suppose they would put them on if called in haste to quell a riot, do you 1 TMrteenth Girl. I think what he says in regard to women's tiring of voting may be worth considering, since 1 am told that in all our elections it is a very unusual thing for half the men to vote who are entitled to do so. What he says of the " luxury of com- plaining " isn't worth a reply; and as for shouldering the musket, perhaps he would do well to look over the history of our late war and learn how few drafted men responded by shouldering said musket, and how many very suddenly discovered that they were out of health, and had to put themselves under a physician's care. Fourteenth Girl. And I would like to know how many sons of w^ealthy parents were excused on the plea that they had an aged father or mother to support ! How many men were called over to England on business, to say nothing of those who needed to retire to the wilds of Canada to renovate their shattered constitutions. I shouldn't think it best for the men to say too much about women going to war. Fifteenth Boy. Mary is rather cutting in her remarks, but I am going to venture to say that if women vote of course they will have to serve on juries ; and how shocking it would be to hear that a judge was obliged to commit a certain juress for contempt of court, because she was asking her neighbor, just when the most important evidence was being given, how much satin it took to trim her over skirt ! Sixteenth Boy. And then I suppose we shall have lady mayors, and, I don't know whether to say lady aldermen or cdderladies — and it may happen that at some meeting of the city mothers, the mayoress cannot preside because "baby is cutting his teeth," and several alderladies will send their best respects, and would be happy to come, but really they have "nothing to wear." Sewnteenth Boy, And some morning we may see a notice in 156 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. the papers that the city clerkess's office will be closed for the day, as she must stay at home to practice the new style of '' doing up her hack hair !" Fifteenth Girl. Well, now, you may laugh as much as you like, but "they laugh best who laugh last," and we'll see what changes a few 3^ears will bring about. Eighteenth Boy. I cannot bear the thought that women must go to the polls where they will be subjected to all sorts of insults and Sixteenth Girl. Allow me to interrupt. When a lady goes to a concert, a lecture, or a fair, she meets the same crowd of men that she would find at the polls. Why is she in no danger of insult there 1 Nineteenth Boy, Oh, Mary, men act very different at the polls from what they do elsewhere. Seventeenth Girl. And why? Simply because ladies are not there, with their refining influence. In AVyoming, where woman sufii-age exists, everything is entirely orderly and quiet, and I noticed in one place, where the experiment is being newly tried, the ballot-boxes were decorated with flowers, and everything was done by the gentlemen to make things pleasant for the ladies. Tioentieth Boy. I think we have considered about long enough this w^oman's sufii-age question ; for my part I say let her suffer ! First Boy. Well, I say, as I said in the beginning, — it's all fool- ishness, and women in this part of the country never will vote. Eighteenth Girl. Don't make rash assertions. A good thing is worth waiting for. It takes a long time to work changes. Just as sure, though, as the world moves, women will yet vote, and you just wait till I am mayor and see. Second Boy. It may be so, but neither you nor any other wo- man ever gets a vote from me ! {sings '' Oh, no, no, not from Joe,'' etc.) Fourteenth Girl. Of course opposite parties see this question in different lights. We all know the story of the two knights who fought about the shield. If either had taken the trouble to look from the other's stand-point, he would have seen that it was gold- en one side and silver on the other ; yet they fought because neither could convince the other that it was all silver or all gold. macauijAy's dialogues for little folks. 157 Second Boy. Ha ! ha ! In this case the girls certainly have the silver side. ^^Speecli is silver, silence is golden." Second Girl. John ! John ! Keep 3^onr gold : we'll be content with the silver. Twentieth Girl. I have always thought that '' right," of all kinds, will finally prevail ; and perhaps, ere many years pass by, we shall all be able to see this question in its true light. I have a poem that seems appropriate to recite just here, the lesson of which must end our discussion for the present. SPHERES. When, o'er the tranquil arch of night, Go up Arcturus and his sons, When Hercules, in glorious might, Ascends among the shining ones, They find their sphere, or high, or low, Where God has called, or bids them go. When, rising from the eastern seas, And calmly gliding up the skies, The mild and gentle Pleiades, The seven sweet starry sisters rise, They find their sphere, or high, or low, Where God has called, or bids them go. Up, like the hero-stars of heaven, To zenith heights, oh, youth, ascend ; As rise the lovely sisters, seven. Up, maidens, let your pathway tend, And find your sphere, or high or low, Where God has called, or bids you go ! 158 MACAULAY S DIALOGUES FOK LITTIiE FOLKS. THE ALPHABET EOUNDELAT. Kindly arranged for publication by Miss Zora E. Ryder. The Music adapted and arranged by Alfred B. Sedgavick. Copyright, 1876, by Robert M. De Witt. CHARACTERS REPRESENTED. The Alphabet, from A to Z, by twenty-six little girls, each ranged accord- ing to her height, A being represented by the tallest and Z by the short- est girl. The Queen, or Leader, to be represented by a girl taller than the rest. Ampersand, represented by a very small boy. DRESSES. A silver band with the letter she represents on the forehead of each girl. A gilt crown and gold wand for the Queen. The character & (Ampersand) to be cut, large, in paper, and pinned on the back of the boy who represents this character. Tempo di schotlische.. I i \ E .-J_ s. -0-^- 0-rr_^- s^ ff -«— T— «- -^- -ff — t : -Si- -g^-v-#-^- -^—^—f^—W- ::^: W^- -0~^- irzcid macauliAy's dialogues for little folks. 159 .^_^_^_ :i]=:fi i 1 -s«- _S2_ -ir-^—tr -iT4~r -f^- =^^^ i 1 ! -t|- • » » hi ^0 -■ "I — \ mt -it- -a & # 0- -^— ;^— =]-f— : -g — -g— p- lt- =^. ?_^._ _j_ A • # -r 'f^J^ ^-- 1 1 I 1 1 ^ 1 -in c):§- ^ -1— ^: ^1 --^- __^_ '" ^^ - -i^^^ — »- 1 \ \ ' --I —. 1 -^ *— IJI I ! ■ -^r ' -^ ■ III 27ig cMldren enter the platform from the lefty sJdpi^ing, to the above March. TJie Queen enters first as leader, folloiced Jjy lit- tle Z, then Y, X, W, etc.^ etc., till all are on. They then march, shipping, twice round the platform, lohen they form in a semi- 160 MACAULAY S DIAIiOGUES FOE UTTIM FOLKS. circle, their faces turned to the right, the Queen being at the head. DIAGRAM. ZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA The Queen. O Right. O Centre. O Left. Front of Platform. TJie Queen then advances, skipping, from the right end of the line to the centre, where, standing with her face to the Audiencet she at the signal of the following music, I Tempo di Yalse. ;:pr A-«- ±-^z b:i ziz EEEE .0 «_ i i -«'- 3iE£: £?^ ^» — \—^—0 — — 9 — »-^^— F— «- _ff_^ '-i^t^- -0—9- 9 — §L — — 5^ — ^^ >□ !^ -&' ■e-^-g—0- -2-« f±^t=tL I^_#_ Sg^ macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 161 waves her tcand, and the cldldren turn quickly rounds facing the Audience, {Pause.) The Queen then again skips from the centre of the platform to the head of the line in front of Ay while the symphony of the following chorus is being played, ichen A, By and C turn and following march in a circle^ uliile all the letters ±{ ::8={JL£ ;==^Bg;^gj ;r,zi=| ^ — a a L_ i y^ Song. l5^ Verse. n ^ V T K^ -^ ^ «^ j^ K^ f> w^ Afcr V K. •f w rm ^ ^ a A ^ A y N 1 A ^' M. \^\1 . J Here are let - ters one, two, three. Look up and 3'ou will „ ^ i'^ . . . . :T^^ w K . < ^\'¥ * *i w^w 9 r ' r '-, /•Tf ■ ' ' ' ^ /a A A A. - -^ \ ' ' -^ ^ — L^ 4 , a,'_ ^0-&-S ^0 — C 0-Z n tt s ! •^ Fine. ^ y r 1.^ N^ !^ K. , 1 ,_--^ . 1 >W "^ n. f « ' 1 rr^ ' ^ ^ dl !■ ^ i« '• S n ^i ! •— ^ ^^ '^ ^' ^ 9 ^ t ^ * ^ IT ^ ' ^ see ! Look up and you will see our A, •0- B, C! c\'^ ^1 *^ 1 ' r ^ *i 1 ^ : 1 ^ « 1 J**? •? iB iS L ^ ^ '-»— —9 — r — ^ •' : ; 1 *: ^ 1 1 - ^ LL 1 162 MACAULAY's dialogues for LITTIjE FOIiKS. Symphony as Queen turns to D, E, F, G. \ /^ V ft 1 a ^ m P m i "■' „ ....._ ^— t— r ^— S- U 5 g ^ 1 W !S ''> J 1 ^i :: i. ' ^ . \- • -i 1 ... ...i .. ^ S 1 L J '9- ^ I 1 1 I J 1 1 1 r^'tt ^ \ 9 W I & 1 1 ^1 1 J'ft 1 1 i ^ i -^1 : 1 tf -a — L,' _; ,. 1 1 « J 27^6 Queen 7^eaJ^ 8te'p8 in front of D, E^ F, and G, and the same business is gone tlirougJi to the following music : 2d Verse.^ ^ k. ^^ ^S ^^ ^N i' ^^ > s. V V ^_ :irgz Here are one, two, three and four! With their letters all be #■ ^ -^ _^_^_ 'W-W- P — ^- fl»-9-2- iN-JV N N - g — $i — ^ - -'S.-.^ I ^-^-#-«- i; U' gi - fore, I'm sure you will a-gree it is D, E, F,and G. !^ ^ ^ ^ ^ A 9_^ k— i 1 -= i» — « — ^0—fi-^0—0 — ■I — I — I — I — hi »—#—»—*— h# — -1 — ^-#- :::^p: ■i — 1= — I — I — i — \- -I — ^ — U™i™r .,_..^ ■f^^^ macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 163 During above sym'pliony Queen advances beside i7, ij J^ ctnd K» n M verse. V tf9 h h ^ IV 1 I JL ^ K K fm ^i ^ ^ tfi J ^' ^ 1 1 y -- N H \S J 4: 1 J ' 1 ' J J ' J ^4 Now, make St -^ haste, and clear the way; For ! "^1 "1 r\»#9 ^ ^ P ^ 1 ' 1 ' 1 « « # 1 ^.flii 1 ^1 \ \ \ ^ \ ^ " /i 1 ^ a a - L_J (s— — ^ — ± — ^ — — 1 -N-?- 51 H, J, and K I I 't~~^ Now, make haste, and m clear the way For H, I, J, and K. PIe u V Symphony. V . F»>-rri Os ipf_q^i-:2^!^,^_ ^H— H — ! — ^- H^ ^^ =^ =1 ^ 9-^-:^ d d t zt^ ^Ti: :J \ ^ — 1 ^—^—0-^ -i — -» — --- f II s ft m t9 ^ o- O'tt .- % I % ^ /^ ^ g ^ (* ^ ^ ^.i__^ ^-^-^- ^— ?-*-^i -g-?-^-?- -t H L^ — i __l — f ^p-l" — y 1 ^ The QuEEx is noio in front of L, M, iV", and 0, Ihey go through the same business. 164 MACAUIiAY S DIALOGUES FOE liTTTLE FOLKS. U7i d; 5th verse. -N— ^ i!t::fc ftit .1 L 1 4. What let - ters now are thej^, That are jumping up so 5. Now ! you can do no less, Misses P, Q, R, and -T— — 19 — ^ — ip_q gay? So skipping, there they go it is L, M, N, and O ! S! I'm sure you will say yes, Misses P, Q, R, andS? S S f c^ii *-?-?! — ^— ^- ^-p_^-^-^-: :: — /^ff ^-#-19 )0 — — »-] — ^-^-0— -. ;S'a77ie business to F, Q, M, and S, and afterwards at end of fifth mrse to T, U, and F. Gth d 1th Verse. ¥ J-s— ==^, — N — N- J^JS -^—N- ilEfETfEi^ 6 And I am sure must we ; With our T, and U, and Y, 7 And we will be to blame If we do not do the same! MACATIiAY S DIAlOGrXS FOE LITTLE FOLKS. 165 w 4^V^ So tripping here you see, Little T and UandY! So tripping liere you see, Double U and X, Y Zee ! 1^ _ 9 — J m ~w At the end of sixth mrse the Queen approaches W, X, F, Z with the same business, and seventh verse proceeds. The Queen now skips to the head of the line before A. Enter Mr. Ampersand. He icalks and limps to the centre in a very crooked, awkward way^ continually showing his hack, icith the figure "ci* " on it. WJien he has reached the centre^ icith Ms hack to the audience, the girls, after a chord, commence the eighth verse, to the air of verse fifth {Air—''- The Bold Soldier Boy.'') EIGHTH TERSE. There is Mr. Ampersand ! Go take him by the hand ! Oh ! how do you do, Mister Ampersand ] During the singing of the eighth verse little Z comes forward, and shakes him hy tlie hand. 166 macaulay's dialogues foe TjTttle folks. NINTH VERSE {scimc melody). You are so very crooked, Mr. Ampersand. You'll make us dull and stupid, Mr. Ampersand ! During the singing of this verse Z preteiids to he very angry, and gives Ampersand two or three hard 2)us7ies. In the next, however, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the centre. TENTH VERSE {same melody). But since you've found the way To our pleasant roundelay. We'll allow you there to stay, Mr. Ampersand. During last symphony little Z places Mr. Ampersand hy her side at the foot of the line. They then sing as follows, to the tune of '^Auld Lang Syne''' n ti V ^ V 't 9 i\ ^ h K l^'_^i^"lj^ N h 4L. ^ \ fm ^i ^ ^ H ^' f ^ J J ^ "^■ S^z ^ :J e 9 r u A, B, C, D, E, F,andG,H, I, J, K, L, . * * ^ f^ * * C\'^'^ p '« W ^ ij»!^'^ n i r 1 r S *f s ^ r •? 1 ^ Z^ ^ // 7 fj 7 \j 1 P I f 7 It' 1 \j 1 4 Ly y ^^- -I # !- y— — h— ^- -b'— b'- :t^:ii^^z* -^-^• >;-^-A~N-Hs M, N, 0, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, Double U,X, Y, Z. itl^Z^II^Ilt -^-5-t h^ MACAULAY's dialogues foe lilTTIiE FOLKS. 167 -# — 9- 1 — —9—m- We'll skip the letters thro' and thro' From A to 0, and P! And -^ --f,— ^-T-:^- -^•_-_>,_^_ thenwe will come B^'e and bye To lit-tle X and Zee! _^ « ^f- t S -^ rd—. L^i L. Lj — ^ uj 1 iJJ During this the Queex passes before tliem, pointing to each letter as it is named, loith her loand. She touches every fourth child on the shoulder, loho immediately steps foricard, leaving a space ichere they stood 'before. Leader sidps to the head, lohile little Z and Ampersand, hand-in-hand, skip in and out of the spaces between the other girls. A, Z, and Ampersand then re- turn to centre. The children belonging to the spaces back to their former positions, forming a perfect circle. The Queen skips to centre. At a signal chord from the piano she leaves her icand, and they all march, skippingly, off to the same march that opened the entertainment. Note.— The Music may be changed to suit the taste of the teacher, as may also the manner of presenting the piece on the stage. ill 168 maoaulay's dialogues fob little folks. A PimNY LOT. [Fo7' seven boi/s.] LAURA E. RICHARDS. Mi^st, I'm only a poor little mouse, ma'am ! I live in the walls of your house, ma'am ! AVitji a fragment of cheese, and a very few peas, I was having a little carouse, ma'am I No mischief at all I intend, ma'am ! I hope you will act as my friend, ma'am ! If my life you should take many hearts it would break, And the trouble would be without end, ma'am ! My wife lives in there in the crack, ma'am ! She's waiting" for me to come back, ma'am ! She hoped I might find a bit of a rind, For the children their dinner do lack, ma'am ! 'Tis hard living there in the wall, ma'am ! For plaster and mortar will fall, ma'am ! On the minds of the young, and when specially hung- Ry, upon their poor father they'll fall, ma'am ! I never was given to strife, ma'am ! (Don't look at that terrible knife, ma'am!) The noise overhead that disturbs you in bed, 'Tis the rats, I will venture my life, ma'am ! In your eyes I see mercy, I'm sure, ma'am ! Oh, there's no need to open the door, ma'am ! I'll slip thro' the crack and I'll never come back, Oh, l1l never come back any more, ma'am ! (Exit.) Second, With a hop, skip and jump, We went to the pump, To fill our kettles with starch ; He bade us good day In the pleasantest way, With a smile that was winning and arch. y MACAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOIiKS. 169 "Oh, pump! " said I, '' When you look up on high To gaze on the morning star, Does it make you sad, Oh, pumpy, my lad, To think she's away so far *? " Said the pump, " Oh, no, For we've settled it so That but little our feelings are tried ; For every clear night She slides down the moonlight, And shines in the trough at my side." (Exit,) Tliird. The owl and the eel and the warming-pan, They went to call on the soap-fat man. The soap-fat man, he was not within ; He'd gone for a ride on his roiling pin ; So they all came back by the way of the town. And turned the meeting-house up side dowm. i^Exit.) Fourth. Oh, pillykin willykin, winky wee ! How does the emperor take his tea 1 He takes it with melons, he takes it with milk, He takes it with syrup and sassafras silk, He takes it without, he takes it within ; Oh, punky doodle and jollapin ! {Exit.) Fifth. Oh, pillykin willykin, winky wee ! How does the cardinal take his tea 1 He takes it in Latin, he takes it in Greek, He takes it just seventy times a week ; He takes it so strong that it makes him grin ; Oil, punkydoodle and jollapin ! {Exit.) Sixth. Oh, pillykin willykin, winky wee ! How does the admiral take his tea'? He takes it with splices, he takes it with spars, He takes it with jokers and jolly jack-tars ; And he stirs it round with a dolphin's fin ; Oh, punkydoodle and jollapin ! ( Exit. ) 170 MAOAUIiAY'S DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. ^■ Seventh, Oh, pillykin willykin, winky wee ! How does the president take his tea 1 He takes it in bed, he takes it in school, He takes it in Congress against the rule ; He takes it with brandy, and thinks it no sin ; Ohj punky doodle and jollapin ! ( Exit. ) THE TUETLE AND PLAMmOO. [ For seve7i girls. ] J. T. FIELDS. First. A lively young turtle lived down by the banks Of a dark-rolling stream called the Jingo, And one summer day, as he went out to play, Fell in lOve with a charming flamingo ! An enormousl}'' genteel flamingo ! An expansively crimson flamingo ! A beautiful, bouncing flamingo ! Second, Spake the turtle in tones like a delicate wheeze, " To the water I've oft seen you in go, And your form has impressed itself deep on my shell, You perfectly modelled flamingo ! You uncommonly brilliant flamingo ! You tremendously ' A 1 ' flamingo ! You inexpressible flamingo ! Tliird. " To be sure I'm a turtle and you are a belle, And my language is not your fine lingo ; But smile on me, tall one, and be my bright flame, You miraculous, wondrous flamingo ! You blazingly beauteous flamingo ! You turtle-absorbing flamingo ! You inflammably gorgeous flamingo!" macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 171 Fourth. The proud bird blushed redder then ever before, And that was quite un-nec-es-sa-ry, And she stood on one leg and looked out of one eye, The position of things for to vary, — This aquatical, musing flamingo ! This dream 3^, uncertain flamingo ! This embarrassing, harassing flamingo ! Fifth. Then she cried to the quadruped, greatly amazed, " Why your passion tov^^ards me do you hurtle 1 I'm an ornithological wonder of grace, And you're an illogical turtle^ — A waddling, impossible turtle ! A low-minded, grass -eating turtle ! A highly improbable turtle ! " Sixth. Then the turtle sneaked off with his nose to the ground, And never more looked at the lasses ; And falhng asleep, while indulging his grief, Was gobbled up whole by Agassiz ! The peripatetic Agassiz ! The turtle-dissecting Agassiz ! The illustrious, industrious Agassiz ! Seventh. Go with me to Cambridge some, cool, pleasant day, And the skeleton-lover I'll show you ; He's in a hard case, but he'll look in your face, Pretending ( the rogue ! ) he don't know you ! Oh, the deeply deceptive young turtle ! The double-faced, glassy-cased turtle ! The green, but a very mock-im:i\Q ! ( Exeunt.) BILLY AND ME. [ For tioo hoys. ] First. Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, 172 macaulay's'dialogues foe little folks. Up the river and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. Second. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. First. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There, to track the homeward bee, - That's the way for Billy and me. Second. Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free. That's the way for Billy and me. First. Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, III Or love to banter and fight so well. That's the thing I never could tell. Second. But this we know, we love to play Through the meadow, among the hay ; Up the water and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. ( They go off, hand in hand.) JOE'S BOY. JOHN F. ADAMS. [For four hoys.'] First. Type of innocence at rest. Cuddled in his downy nest. Snugger than a little mouse. He's the master of the house. Smooth and velvety his skin ; Mother's eyes and father's chin ; macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 173 Waiting for his teeth to show ; Waiting for his hair to grow — Little darling, mother's joy. " Nice baby, Joe's boy !" Second. By and by he goes to school, Not by any means a fool, Learns his *' three R's " pretty quick, "Reading, 'Riting, 'Rithmetic." Mother hopes, when years elapse, He'll be President perhaps. With the lasses cheek by jowl, Rosebud in his button-hole, Gentleman without alloy, — " Smart fellow, Joe's boy.' Third. Out into the world at last, Cuts a swell, is rather fast ; On the road, behind his span. Calls his father " my old man.'* Father's money — there's the rub — Goes for dinners at the club; Smokes cigars and guzzles wine ; Every thing is very fine. Thus does he his time employ. ''Hard ticket, Joe s boy." Fourth. Getting seedy and all that. Wears a shocking looking hat ; Money scarce, things looking blue, Friends gone back upon him, too ; Bloated face, eyes growing dim, Poor-house just the place for him. Now, young fellows, mind your eye ; Drink cold water when you're dry ; Rum is certain to destroy. " Gone sucker, Joe's boy !" 1 74 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. THE QEADUATES. Characters. — Kate, one of the older girls; Rose, a merry girl loho can dance ; CijAra, a singer ; LilijIb, a poetess ; Grace, a girl of dramatic ability ; Louise, a girl of huraorous power ; Lucy, a quiet girl ; Milly, the largest in the class. Others for chorus, song^ etc. A Fairy. Time, Graduating day ; Place, a school room. Enter the class, the Fairy concealed from mew. Kate. Well, girls, the longed-for, dreaded day has come at last ; to-day we graduate ! Louise. Yes ; as my good old aunt Sally said to me this morn- ing, "To-day you're a-goin' to graduate!" Semral together. Longed-for ? Others. Dreaded ] Kate. Yes, both. Who does not long for independence — "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness 1" Several {with ferwr). " Independence now, and independence forever!" Grace {dramatically). " But as for me, give me liberty or give me death '" Kate. And yet do we not all dread the day of parting, the break- ing of school ties, the plunge into the great untried world, the Rose. 0, Kitty, pray don't be sentimental, for we shall all cry if you go on in that way ; and, however Ijiiv^^ rosy cheeks and cher- ry lips may be, certainly scarlet eyelids and ruby noses are unbe- coming as decorations. Grace. Yes, beauty in distress is a humbug of the novelists. What is it interpreted into the actual ? Listen a moment while I improvise, {sentimentally.) " As Alphonse gazed tenderly upon her she burst into a flood of tears ; never had she appeared so lovely as at that moment. A deep flush, most like the rich crim- son that burns in the heart of a red, red rose, mounted to the very bridge of her exquisite Grecian nose, while a slender thread macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 175 of scarlet shot along her fringed eyelids, making the lovely blue of her clear deep eyes bluer than ever from the brilliant contrast." Semral. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Louise. She wouldn't have suited my aunt Sally a bit. She always says, " I don't want no snivellin' gals around me." Several. Ha ! ha i ha ' ha ! Kate. There seems to be no danger of making you cry at pres- ent, and for my own part I would much rather make you laugh ; but I have been thinking of the hopes and expectations that cro^\d our hearts to-day, and of the bright world that " hes all before us, where to choose," and I have been wondering what we should all wish for, if we could by wishing decide each her own lot in life. Come, girls, let us be frank about it. Milly, you are brave ; oe the first to put on the wishing cap and speak out. Milly. Put on a fooVs cap, you mean. No, no, the wishing cap is an obsolete style of head-dress, belonging to a past age ; it went out with fairies, dragons, enchanted beauties, and other rubbish. Lillie. 0, not rubbish ! Do spare at least the fairies. Hose. Imagine the fairy of the nineteenth century ! What would she be like 1 A creature robed in a water-proof and shod with ruboer boots, with eye-glasses on nose, and for a wand — what shall I say 1 Milly. The staff of office, perhaps. Rose. In the presence of such an apparition who could have the courage to utter a wish 1 Lillie. Like the woman in the German fairy tales, with a yard of black pudding on the end of her nose, there would be nothing left for us to wish but to wish it away. Lillie. Well, it is true that this is a prosaic age, but, for my part, I cling to my old faith in fairy-land. Lucy. Yes, Lillie, you are a poetess, and have a right of inher- itance in the realm of Titania. Perhaps at your gentle bidding some sprite would spring up, even here and noio^ to listen to our wishes and speed their fulfillment. Can you call " spirits from the vasty deep " ? Lillie. I'll try. Louise, But will they come ? 176 MACAUIiAY's DIALOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. Lillie {slowly and impressively). Thrice three are nine, And I am thine ! Oh, fair and fine, Half-human, half divine, Into this group Will you now stoop To come at call of mine 1 Several. Hark! Others. Hush! / Still others. Listen ! / When all is still a Fairy suddenly appears. She is dressed in white, with long, flowing white vail over head and face; floating hair. She carries a wand. Attached to tie wand is a small white flag, with the motto, " Be True,''' inscribed upon it. At flrst the flag is rolled around the wand, and tied with a white ribbon that can easily be slipped off. At the appearance of the Fairy all except Lillie start lack in attitudes of surprise. Several. Oh! Others. Why! Still others. Well done ! Louise. " What upon airth !" as aunt Sally says. Lillie {to Fairy). May I ask your name 7 Wairy. I am a fairy of the nineteenth century. Milly (looking at the Fairy's feet). Where are tlie rubber boots 1 Fairy. It boots not. Milly- And the water-proof 1 Fairy. Proof you shall have in time. Lillie. And your name 1 Fairy. You shall know it before we part ; but first your wishes. Speak freely, believe in me, and they shall granted, {to Lillie) What would you have 1 Lillie {after a short pause). Good fairy, who you are or whence you cam^, I know not ; but whatever be the name macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 177 To which you answer when, in Fairy-land, Titania summons swift her elfin band. Here, in our midst, you wear a brow so clear, An air so gracious, manners so sincere, My heart renounces all her wonted fear, And gives at once her full allegiance here, {kneels and kisses Fairy's hand.) Milly (aside). That was well done — wasn't in ^ Louise. Yes, indeed ; she's what aunt Sally would call "a fust- rate hand at speakin' pieces.'* Fairy. Under my banner march, to me he triie^ {unfurls flag and points to onotto^ And keep your art and not yourself in view, And all you ask I freely promise you. {to Grace) What wish lies nearest to your heart? Grace {with enthusiasm). Oh, I should like above all things to be an actress ! Kind fairy, help me to fulfill this wish. Fairy. And if you'd prosper in your chosen art, Oh, wear my motto graven on your heart ; A precious talisman 'twill prove to you ; In iDord, in look, in tone, in act, be true. {pointing to motto on flag. To Rose) Within the Rose's heart Some sweet wish lies apart ; Unfold it to mine ear ; Fear not, let it ap]3ear. Rose {tioirling round and humming a iDaltz). I should so love to be a beautiful dancer. I enjoy balls and parties. Make me a leader of society, sweet fairy. Fairy. Even in that sphere you can do brave work if you will but cling to my standard, {to Clara) What shall I do for you, dear child 7 Clara. Of all gifts, give me the gift of song. Fairy. To you henceforth its wondrous joys belong. Here's modest Lucy hasn't named her wish. Lucy. The loish is, at least, modest for these times. Grant me, I pray thee, the power to make home happy. Fairy {to Lucy). 178 MACAUIiAY'S DIAIiOGUES FOE LITTLE FOLKS. Four modest wish holds much within its bound ; In home the purest happiness is found. {to Kate) Now, Kitty, shall we hear jouy wish 1 Kate. The school has done much for me. Pray give me strength and courage to teach as well as I have been taught. Fairy. Dear girl, if you would act the teacher's part. Write this ( poiming to motto) upon the tablets of your heart. (fo Milly) Well, Milly, last of all we turn to you ; Last, but not least, this time is strickly true. Milly {loith vigor and emphasis). I believe the dearest desire of my heart is to benefit my ie\\o^Y -women. The world has, for many centuries, devoted its best energies to the improvement of our fellow-men, while women have been left entirely out of the question — treated as dolls, slaves, or idiots, according to the ca- price of the stronger sex. Louise {interrupting). Isn't she what aunt Sally calls a hen's riglits hen % Milly. I hope I shall live to see a class of girls like this gradu- ate from Harvard College. Several. Three cheers for the girl-graduates of Harvard ! All the Class {except the Fairy). 'Kah ! 'rah ! 'rah ! 3Elly {bowing, first to class and then to Fairy). So, kind fairy, I pray you to write me '' as one who loves her ieWow-women''' Fairy {to Milly). You, more than all the rest, have need of me ; For know me now by name — Sincerity. Who works without me finds his work in vain : Who works with me will what he asks obtain. Where'r you go let me walk by your side, And be your inspiration, friend, and guide. Clara. Let us join hands, and pledge ourselves anew, Whatever our lot in life, we will be true ; True to each other, true unto ourselves, And true to this, the truest of the elves ! All the class join hands, two ccnd two, and march behind the Fairy, who lead.s off slowly, while they sing some favorite marching song, or while some march is played. macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 179 THE UNLUCKY BOY. [Fo7' tiDO characters, Caleb and Joseph.] Caleb {with sled). There ! Was there ever such an unlucky boy 1 I have broken my sled ! Joseph. Don't get into such a flutter. I guess we can mend it. Caleb. I don't believe we can ! I don't know what father will say to me when he knows it, for it was almost brand new, and he always scolds me for tearing my things to pieces so. Joseph. You should be more careful then. Ccdeb. Careful ! I should like to know how I can be any more careful than I am '? I might draw my sled on a bee-line, walk every step, and never turn my head to the right or the left, and then something will happen to it. It tries to break on purpose ! I know it does. And it is just so with everything I have. Joseph. You talk as if your things had a spite against you, and tried to break. Caleb. Well, none of the other boys' things smash up as mine do. Why, there's Ned Jones has had his sled five years, and has not broken it yet. But I might have one bought for me every week, and then not have any. If I only just look at my things they will break. Joseph. You must have strange things to break by just looking at them I Caleb. They do, anyhow ; and it is not only my sled that breaks, but everything that I touch. Why, last week mother bought me a new suit of clothes, throughout — pants, vest, coat, hat, and all ; and what do you think happened the very first time 1 put them on % Well, I got them all on Sunday morning, ready to go to church, without any mishaps ; that, by the way, is some- thing I seldom do, and I felt wonderfully cute over it too ! I thought for once my clothes were going to behave themselves, and I should have a very respectable time. But no, thank you ; they soon commenced their tantrums, and made up for lost time. The first thing I knew, as I was going out of the gate I caught 180 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. the tail of my overcoat on a nail, and away went the whole of it I I should have had to go back and stay at home, but mother pinned it up, and it did not show much ; but I had no sooner got to the meeting house gate than I caught the other tail, and away that went. Well, mother pinned that up too, and I got along very well until after church, when, as I was bowing to a young lady, what must my brand new hat do but tumble off and go straight into a mud puddle ] Then, of course, I hurried with all my might to pick it up before it got spoiled ; my foot slipped, and when I again returned to my senses I was lying flat in the mud puddle myself. That put an end to my new clothes this winter. Now, if I am not an unlucky boy, I should like to know who is. Joseph {laugldng). You did have a hard time of it, didn't you 1 Caleb. Yes; but if that was the only time I wouldn't care I But every day it is crack, smash ! first it's one thing, and then it s another. Joseph. Yes ; I see your new skates are broken that your fa- ther bought for you a little while ago. Caleb. yes ; just like all my things. If I go skating the ice must break and in I fall. My skates must break, and down I tumble, and crack goes my old pate. Joseph. If you would not rush at things with such a slam-bang rate, you would not have so much trouble. If you go on in this way I am afraid you will not live out half your days. Caleb. No, I don't think I shall myself, for I am always hitting iwj head against all the posts there are. If I go to school I hit my head against the lamp-post ; and if I undertake to draw some water for mother, I hit my head against the windlass. I wonder I have any brains left. Joseph. You must be a little more moderate. Did j^ou ever try '? Caleb. Try! I should think I had. The other day sister Em wanted I should hold the baby, and I thought I would be the carefullest fellow in the world, but I had not held her long before thump went her head against the table, and I haven't dared look at her since. Joseph. You must keep on trying ; don't give up. You must " Try, try again." macaulay's dialogues fok little folks. 181 Caleb. "Wellj I do mean to keep on trying. If I could only get along as well as you do. Joseph. Well, now see if you can't pick up your sled and carry it out of the door without breaking it. (Caleb picks up the sled, carries it out very carefully, sets it clown and returns) There ; you've not broken anything this time. You've not hit your head, torn your coat, nor knocked any of your teeth out. I think now we will go and try and mend your sled. {Exeunt.') WHERE AEE TOU GOING ? MRS M. G. KENNEDY. [For four hoys and two or three girls.] First and Second Boys only on the platform at first. Second Boy icith books, papers, etc. First Boy. Little boy, little boy, . - Where are you going 1 Second Boy. To my dear Sunday School ; That's where I'm going. * My lessons are learned well, , The sweet texts I can tell ; My tickets are in my pocket, My library book in my hand, With the Bible teacher gave me To guide me to the better land. First Boy. Little boy, little boy, What do you do there 1 Second Boy. Learn to love the blessed Jesus ; That's what we do there. We pray and sing, and read his word, The sweetest things you ever heard j And we gather round our teachers With hearts warmed by love's bright beams, 182 MACAULAY's dialogues for TiTTTLE FOLKS. And we talk of our dear Saviour, Till like heaven itself it seems. First Boy. Little boy, little boy, What can you see there '? Second Boy. Bright and happy looking faces, That's what we see there ; Teachers sun nor storm who fear, Children come from far and near ; The walls are hung with pictures, Mottoes beautiful to behold, And maps of Bible countries, Much more than can be told. First Boy. Little boy, little boy, Could I go there with you 7 Second Boy. I'm sure you w^ould be welcome ; Come right away and try it — do ! If only once to school you'd go, So well you'd like it that I know You never again would stay away. Come, here's my hand — this is the way, I'll take you to our own dear class, Where I hope you'll spend many a happy day. (the oilier cJiildren appear from different sides, one by one.) First Boy. No ! no ! little boy, little boy, I will not go to-day. See ! There are other children ; I'll ask them which is the way That their young feet are treading. Perhaps I'd rather go with them — I cannot tell what I shall choose. Go on ; your time you must not lose ; Another time, some other day, Little boy, I'll go your way. Little boy, little boy, What makes vou look so sad ] i III MArATTIiAY's DIALOGUES TOU i^ITTLE FOLKS. 183 Second Boy. That from the right you should delay, That" 6 what makes me feel so sad ; For I think of one who said to Paul, "Not now ; some other time I'll call." But ah ! it never was convenient I Like Felix. I'm afraid you'll wait Too long to choose the better part. And hear at last the words — too late I Second Boy moves off, hut waits at tlie farther end as if loath to leave First Boy, icho looks efter him ei moment ^ and then turning, says : First Boy. Dear I dear I what a fuss he does make I Here comes a boy whom I think I will take. Soldier boy. soldier boy, Where are you going 1 Third. Boy. To fight for King Jesus,, sir ! That's vv'here I'm going. I've put on the armor of God, With Gospel peace my feet are shod ; I've the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit, Salvation's helmet is on my head. With the girdle of trtith my loins are girt, As in God's word you've often read. First Boy. Sailor boy, sailor boy. Where are you sailing \ Fourth Boy. I'm on life's stormy ocean. That's where I'm sailing. My bark is launched, bttt I do not fear, For my pilot and captain is always near ; And the Bible is my compass. The chart on which I keep my eye, While I steer for the port of heaven. Where I hope to anchor by-and-by. First Boy. Little girls, little girls. Sav. what are vou doinsr ? . . " 184: MACAULAY'S DIAXiOOTJES FOK IjITTLE POX.KS. Girls (together). We are working for Jesus, That's what we are doing. Oh ! if you could feel the pleasure, Happiness that knows no measure, Of laboring in his vinej^ard, Each day for Christ, our Lord, Who surely in the harvest Will each dear one reward. First Boy, Little girls, little boys, The song you sing is the same, From key note to ending You speak of but one name ! Second Boy {adx>ances). True ; for Jesus my best teacher is ; Third Boy. And I'm in that great army of His ; Fourth Boy, He's my Captain, Pilot, Guide ; Girls, He's our Master, Brother, Friend, Our Shepherd, Guardian, Saviour, All loving names that have no end. {all join hands in a circle around First Boy, and repeat exactly in concert :) Come, little boy, dear little boy. Come with us, and share our joy ; Come to our dear Sunday School, There you'll learn the golden rule, There you'll learn to sing His praise. There we hope you'll change your ways ; For there are but two paths to tread — The broad you well may shun with dread ; The narrow up to heaven doth lead. If your course you'd end with joy. You had better ask yourself with speed, '• Where are yoic going, little boy 1 " Still clasping hands, sing any pretty song of inmtation, moving round First Boy, keeping time to music. At last verse 'break the circle and march off, still singing, First Boy being led off by the last ; chorus still sounding in the distance. maoaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 185 EING PEEEDOM'S BELLS. ELLEN O. PECK. [For Jive loys.] First. Ring, Freedom's bells, across all lands, Ring, happy bell, from shore to shore, Until your echoes from far strands Come back to us once more. Ring out a blood-bought country's worth; Oh, joyful bells, ring high, ring low, To celebrate a nation's birth, One hundred years ago. Second. Ring loudly for the thirteen States That joined their hardy hands of old ; And let the story of their brave In stirring peals be told. But for their heroes slain, ah, knell A tender dirge, so soft and low ; A nation's grief for those who fell One hundred years ago. Tliird. Give forth a peal of richest sound, Oh, music bells, from silver throats ; Let it on every breeze resound Where Freedom's banner floats. A peal Potomac's wave upon. Whose echo down the stream shall flow, For Washington, who led us on One hundred years ago. Fourtli, Ring for the younger States that stretch Across the farthest western shore, Where, hand in hand, with old Thirteen Go the newer twenty-four. 186 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Ring for them all in union grand, Proclaim, where'er yoiir echoes go, Those stand to-day, as those once stood One hundred years ago. Fifth. Ring, sweetl}'-, softly, oh, ye bells, For later slain, in blue and gray ; Their valor tender memory tells. The rest is washed away. Ring saddest notes for Lincoln dead, Freedom's true friend, the tyrant's foe; Grand hero, brave as all who bled One hundred years ago. All. Ring peaceful days that shall succeed; Ring honor to the toiling brain. Or sturdy hands that sow the seed, And reap the golden grain ; The hosts that gladder fields have won. And still up Freedom's heights shall go, Till finished is the work begun One hundred years ago. INTEMPEEAUOE. [For fl'oe characters, Ernest, Will, Isabel, Harry and Alice.] Ernest. ^'Let him that thinking he standeth, lake heed lest he fall." For my part, I am bound by a solemn pledge never to taste a drop of intoxicating liquor ; and I hope and pray I may never be tempted beyond ni}^ strength. Will. I don't care for the liquor, not I; but who wants to be called a mooncalf and a milksop 1 Harry. And who wants to give up his liberty 7 I say. Ernest. Well, now look here ; just consider for a moment Erecl {seating himself). That's right parson, give us a preach. Isabel. Sit here by me, Allie ; now don't " speak in meetin'." Ernest. Father and I have been studying up this subject lately, and I may be better posted than the rest of you. But I was going macaulay's dialogues for little folks. 187 to say, here we are, j^oimg and healthy, with none of the vitiated tastes, nor expensive habits, nor insane cravings that this thing impHes, and why not let well enough alone ] Why not take the wholesome and nourishing gifts of the Creator, and enjoy them in a proper way, and not go to inventing some new thing that may he as evil as it is unnecessary ? Fred. So far, so good ; proceed, parson. Harry. But it is already invented, and people like it and will have it; andif it's good we want it too. Besides, who wants to be odd and humdrum, and all that sort of thing 7 Ernest. Yes, it is invented, and has been ever since Bacchus danced through the vineyards. With the first drop of alcohol that developed in the juice men's heads began to be turned with it. But now for its benefits. Name everything you can think of in its favor. Fred. Well, it is strengthening. WilL And it warms you in winter. Harry. And cools you in summer. Fred. And cheers you up and makes you feel jolly. Isabel. And everybody takes it except a few old fogies. Harry. And your tea-drinking grandmothers. Will. And doctors give it for medicine. Isabel. And it often saves people's lives. Fred. Why, the poets have sung its praises. Harry. And doctors and ministers have drunk it. Fhmest. And what says Alice ? Alice (loith a long face). It's nasty stuff. Ernest. Bravo ! you're right, little one. But now for the sake of the argument we'll admit that what you say of it is all true. There are food, and warmth, and good cheer, and refreshment, and life-giving power, we'll say, in alcoholic drinks. We wont say whether all these things were not abundantly supplied by a benevolent Creator before the days of Bacchus. We won't say that the very use of these liquors lowers the tone of tile system, depresses the spirits, and increases the demand for them. Now for the other side of the question. Are there any emls resulting from the use of alcohohc drinks % and do not the evils overbal- ance the supposed good 1 188 macaulay's dialogues for little folks. Fred. There you have us, parson ; true as preaching. Ernest. Well, name the evils. Fred. Well, in the first place, everybody can't drink moderately ; that's the trouble, and when a man takes too much, why, it's the devil let loose, to speak politely. Ernest. And of sixty thousand drundards who die yearly, how many do you suppose were drunkards to begin with % Didn't every one of them have to take the first glass % Wasn't ever}^ one of them once a happy. Innocent child, around whom a thous- and bright hopes clustered 1 Weren't they all moderate drinkers once % And sixty thousand of your moderate drinkers must keep going from bad to worse, and so get ready for the sixty thousand graves yawning to receive them. The first glass is the first step toward it. Does not that one thought turn the fascinating liquid into gall and wormwood ? God knows / want none of it. Fred. You are coming it strong, parson. Isabel. You are altogether too bad, Ernest. You fairly make the cold chills run over me. Will. Have a glass of wine to warm you 1 Isabel {indignantly). No! Will. But you've not told the half yet, Ernest. You say sixty thousand drunkards die every year. Think of sixty thousand families in mourning over old alcohol's victims ! Ernest. Yes ; think of the thousands of wives, parents, chil- dren, and friends who suffer real heart-burning anguish over the ruin of their loved ones, to say nothing of want and woe in every shape ; of curses, blows, and cruel shame and mortification. Harry. I tell you, a man that will get drunk and abuse his family is a brute. Ernest. Then what do you think of those who make him so ] Would you be the one to take the responsibihty of offering a nice young man a glass of wine 1 Harry. No, I wouldn't; upon my Avord I wouldn't; neither would Isabel. I'll ask my father to kick all the old demijohns out of sight. Fred. That's the talk ! One convert ; go ahead, parson. Ernest. We are not yet done with our subject by a great deal. If we should stay here till next year at this time I doubt if we macaulay's dialogues foe little folks. 189 could enumerate all the evils resulting from tlie use of intoxicat- ing drinks. But we started on the supposition that some benefits were to be derived from them, properly used. Let us reconsider it. Isabel. Yes ; do let us see the bright side again, if there is any. Ernest, But we cannot examine into this matter for ourselves. We must take somebody's ipse dixit for it. Now shall we accept the testimony of a few learned unprejudiced minds who have made thorough scientific investigations of the matter '? Will. Yes, that is what we want ; the verdict of the best judges. Ernest. Well, if we were to believe all that they tell us we shall conclude at once that "wine," or any form of alcoholic drink, is truly "a mocker" — its charms illusive — its seeming good a positive evil. It helps neither nerve nor muscle, nor vital force, and is every way injurious to life and health. So much if we only follow its victims to the confines of this world ; but what if our eyes could pierce the vail that hides extremity from our view, and see the immortal spirit in its struggles to rise from the low sphere of sensual indulgence — see it confront its long-lost hopes and opportunities — see it return debased, defrauded, wrecked — to Him who made it ! Will. Enough, enough, Ernest ; I give you my hand upon it. I will never myself taste, nor proffer to another, anything that can intoxicate. Harry. Neither will I — my word for it. Fred. Well, parson, I reckon here is another convert ; and I guess Isabel's another. "A truly edefyin' season," as good Dea- con Brown would say. Alice. And I'm another. Fred. 0, you're as good as the gold at any time. But what about our pic-nic % Harry. The worst of it is we shan't pop any champagne bottles then. Alice. I think that's the best of it. (^Exeunt.) 190 macatjlay's dialogxies foe little polks. THE BEIDAL WINE OUP. SIDNEY HERBERT. SCENE. — Parlor^ loitJi icedding party, consisting q/* Judge Otis ; Marion, Ms daughter, the hride ; Harry Wood, the bride- grooni ; a few relatives and friends ; all gathered around the centre table on which are decanters and wine glasses. One of the Company. Let us drink the health of the newly- wedded pair, {turns to Harry) Shall it be in wine ? {turns to Marion) or in sparkling cold water 1 Harry. Pledge in wine, if it be the choice of the company. Several Voices. Pledge in wine, to be sure. Marion {with great earnestness). no, Harry ! not with wine, I pray you. Judge Otis. Yes, Marion, my daughter ; lay aside your foolish prejudices for this once; the company expect it, and you should not so seriously infringe upon the rules of etiquette. In your own house you may act as you please ; but in mine, which you are about to leave, for this once please me by complying with my wishes in this matter. A glass of wine is handed to Marion, ichich she sloioly and reluc- tantly raises to her lips, but just as it reaches them she ex- claims, excitedly, holding out the glass at arm's length, and staring at it. Marion. Oh ! how terrible ! Several Voices {eagerly). What is it 1 What do you see 1 Marion. Wait — wait and I will tell you. I see {pointing to the glass icith her finger) a sight that beggars all description ; and yet listen, and I will paint it for you if I can. It is a lonely spot ; tall mountains, crowned with verdure, rise in awful sub- limity around ; a river runs through, and bright flowers in wild profusion grow to the water's edge. There is a thick, warm mist, that the sun vainly seeks to pierce ; trees, lofty and beautiful, wave to the airy motion of the birds ; and beneath them a group macaulay's dialogues for little folk^ 191 of Indians gather. They move to and fro with something like sorrow upon their dark brows ; for in their midst lies a manly- form, whose cheek is deathly pale, and whose eye is wild with the fitful fire of fever. One of his own white race stands, or rather kneels, beside him, pillowing the poor sufferer's head upon his breast with all a brother's tenderness. Look ! {she speaks icitJi reneioed energy) how he starts up, throws the damp curls back from his high and noble brow, and clasps his hands in agony of despair ; hear his terrible shrieks for life ; mark how he clutches At the form of his companion, imploring to be saved from despair and death. Oh ! what a terrible scene. Genius in ruins, plead- ing for that which can never be regained when once lost. Hear him call piteously his father's name ; see him clutch his fingers as he shrieks for his sister — his only sister, the twin of his soul — now weeping for him in his distant home. See ! his hands are lifted to heaven ; he prays — how wildly — for mercy, while the hot fever rushes through his veins. The friend beside him is weeping in despair; and the awe-stricken sons of the forest move silently away, leaving the living and the dying alone together, {the Judge, omreome imth emotion^ falls into a chair, ichile the rest of the company seem aice-struck, as Marion's voice groics softer and more sorrowful in its tones, yet remains distinct and clear) It is evening now ; the great white moon is coming up, and her beams fall gently upon nis forehead. He moves not ; for his eyes are set in their sockets, and their once piercing glance is dim. In vain his companion whispers the name of father and sister ; death is there to dull the pulse, to dim the eye, and to deafen the ear. Death ! stern, terrible, and with no soft hand, no gentle voice, to soothe his fevered brow, and calm his troubled soul and bid it hope in God. (Harry sits doion and covers his face icith his hands) Death overtook him thus ; and there, in the midst of the mountain forest, surrounded by Indian tribes, they scooped him a grave in the sand ; and without a shroud or coffin, prayer or hymn, they laid him down in the damp earth to his final slumber. Thus died and was buried the only son of a proud father — the only, idolized brother of a fond sister. There he sleeps to-day, undisturbed, in that distant land, with no stone to mark the spot. There he lies — my father' 8 son — my own twin brother ! a victim 192 r macaulay's dialogues fob little folks. to this ! (Jiolds up the glass before the company) deadly, damning poison ! Father ! {turning to the Judge) father, shall I drink it now '? Judge Otis {raising his bowed head and speaking icith falter- ing i)oice). No, no, my child ! in God's name, cast it away. Marion {letting her glass fall and dash to pieces). Let no friend who loves me hereafter tempt me to peril my soul for wine. Not firmer the everlasting hills than my resolve, God helping me, never to touch or taste that terrible poison. And he {turning to Harry) to whom I have this night given my heart and hand, who watched over my brother's dying form in that last sad hour, and buried the poor wanderer there by the river, in that land of gold, will, I trust, sustain me in this resolve. Will you not, {of- fers him her hand, which he takes) my husband 1 Harry. With the blessing of Heaven upon my efforts, I will : and I thank you beyond expression for the solemn lesson you have taught us all on this occasion. Judge Otis. God bless you, {taking Marion and Harry by the hand, and speaking with deep emotion) my children ; and may I too have grace given me to help j^ou in your efforts to keep this noble resolve. One of the Company. 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Byron. Twelve Male, three Female ('har- " acters. Price 15 cts. 145. First tiove.— A Comedy, in one Act. By L. J. Hollenius, Esq. Four Male, one Female Character. Price ....15 cts, 146. There's no Smoke Without Fire.— A Comedi- etta, in oue Act. By Thomas Pic- ton. One Male, two Female Char^atera. Price 15 cts. 1^" Copies of any of the above Books will be sent^ fret of 'postage, on rcceii^t oj the retail price. Send Cash Orders to R. M. DE WITT, No. 33 Rose St., N. Y. ACTING FLAYS. (CONTINUED.) 147. TBae Overland Route. — A Comedy, in three Acts, By Tom Taylor. Eleven Male, five Female Characters. Price. .15 cts. 148. Cut off With a Slail- ling".— A Comedietta, in one Act, By S. Theyre Smith. Two Male, one Female Character. Price , 15 cts. 149. Clouds,— An Original Am- erican Comedy, in tcur Acts. By Fred Marsden. Eight Mate, six Female Characters. Price . . lo cts. . 150. A Tell-Tale Keart.-A Comedietta, in one Act. By Thomas Picton. One Male, two Female Characters. Price.. 15 cts. 151. A Hard Case.— A Farce, in one Act. By Thomas Picton Two Male Characters. Price 15 cts. 152. Cupid's Eye-Glass.— A Comedy, in one Act. By Thomas Picton, One Male, one Female Character. Price , , . . . lo cts. 153. 'Tis Better to lAire Thau to I>ie.— A Petite Comedy, in one Act. By Thomas Picton. Two Male, one Female Character. Price . . , , 15 cts. 154. JTEaria and Mag-da- leiia« — A Play, in tour Acts. By L. J. Hollenius, Esq. Ten Male, six Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 155. Our Heroes.— A Military Play, in five Acts. By John B. Renauli, Twenty-five Male, five Female Characters. Price.. 15 -cts. 156. Peace at Any Price.— A Farce, in one Act. By T, W. Eobertson. One Male, one Fe- male Character. Price, .... 15 cts. 15T. C^uite at Home.- A Com- edietta, in one Act. By Arthur Sketchley. Six Male, two Fe- male Characters, Price ... .15 cts. 158. Sclioo!.— A Comedy, in four Acts. By T. W. Robertson. Six Male, three Female Cha,racters. Price 15 cts. 159. In the AVroug- House ; or, No. Six J>uk^ Street.— A Farce. By Mastin Becher. Four Male, two Female Charac- ters. Price ....15 cts. 160. Blow for BloT^.— A Drama, in a Prologue and three Acts. By Henry J. Byron, Five Male, four Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 161. Woman's Voixrs and Masons' Oaths,— A Play, in tour Acts. By A. J. H. Dug-anne. Ten Mala, lour Female Cha^-ac- ters. Price U ^ts. 163. Uncle's Will.-A Comedi- etta, in one Act. By S. Theyre Smith, Two Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 163. Marcoretti ; or. The Brig^and's Sacrifice.— A Romantic Drama, in three Acts. By John M. Kingdom. Six Male, two Female Characters. Price ,. lo cts. 164. Spittle Kuby ; or, Home Je^vels. — A Romantic Drama, in three Acts. By J. J. AVallace. Six Male, six Female Characters. Price.. 15 cts. 165. The f.iving Statue | or. Chiselling-,— A Farce, m one Act. Bv Joseph J. Dilley and James Alien, Three Male, two F'^iaalg Chiiracters. Price . . 15 cts 166. Biferdell v, Pickwick: (Th=« Trial Sceue from Pickwick.) A Farcical Sketch, in one Act. By Charles Dickens. Five Male, two jt?emale Characters. Price 15 ct s. 16T. Apple Blossoms.— A Comedy, in three Acts. By James Albery. Seven Male, three Fe- male Characters. Price 15 cts. l68o Txi-eedie's Rigiits,— A Comedy-Drama, in two Acts. By James Albery. Four Male, two Female Characters. Price. .15 cts. !^F* Copies o/any of the above Books will he sent^ free of postage^ on receipt of Uie retail price. Send Cash Orders to R. M. DE WITT, No. 83 Rose St., N. Y. DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. (CONTINUED.) 169. my Uncle's Suit.— A Farce, in one Act. By Martin Becher. Four Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 170. Only Somebody; or, Dreadi'ully Alariiiisig-.— A Farce, in one Act. By Conway Edwardes and Edward Cullerne. Four Male, two Female Charac- ters. Price 15 cts. ITl. NotiiBtis: Like Paste.— A Farce, in one Act. By Charles Marsham Rae. Three Male, one Female Character Price . . 15 cts. 1T3. Ours.— A Comedy, in three Acts. By T. W. Kobertson. fcix Male, three Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 173. Olf the Stag^e.— An entire- ly original Comedietta, in one Act. By Sydney Kosenfeld. Three Male, three Female Char- ters* Price 15 cts. 174. Home,— A Comedy, in three Acts. By T. W, Robertson. Four Male, three Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 175. Cast Upon tlie \^orld. An entirely original Drama, in five Acts. By Charles E. Newton. Ten Male, five Female Charac- ters. Price 15 cts. 176. On Bread and \¥ater. — A Musical Farce, in one Act. By Sydney Rosenfeld. One Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 177. I Sliall Invite tlie Ma- ;|or. — A Parlor Comedy, in one Act. By G. von Moser. Four Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 178. Out at Sea. An entirely original Romantic Drama, in a Prologue and tour Acts. By Chas. E. Newton. Sixteen Male, five Female Characters. Price. 15 cts. 179. A Breacb of Promise. —An extravagant Comic Drama, in two Acts. By T. W. Robert- son. Five Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 180. Henry tlie Fiftli.-An Historical Play, in five Acts, By William Shakespeare. Thirty- eight Male, five Female Charac- ters. Price 15 cts. 181 & 182. Queen Mary .-A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson. The only unmutilated edition. Arranged lor the stage in four Acts. L^^'be portions of the play to be omitted in representation are very carefully marked.] Edit- ed by John M. Kingdom. Thirty- seven Male, nine Female Charac- ters. This is a double number. Price 30 cts. 183. Richelieu; or, Tlie Conspiracy.— A Play, in five Acts. By Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer» An entirely new acting edition. Twelve Male, two Fe- male Characters. Price. . . 15 cts. 184. Money.— A Comedy, in five Acts. By Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer. Sixteen Male, three Female Characters. Price. 15 cts. 185. Not so Bad as ^Ve Seem ; or. Many Sides to a Claaracter.— A Play, in five Acts. By Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer. An entirely new acting edition. Thirteen Male, three Female Characters. Price. 15 cts. 186. Tliel>ucliessdelaVa1- liere. — A Play, in five Acts, By Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer. Six Male, four Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 187. His OTB^n Enemy.— A Farce, in one Act. By the author of *'The Happy Pair" Five Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 188. Mr. X.— A Farce, in one Act. By Sydney Rosenfeld. Three Male, three Female Characters, Price 15 cts. 189. Ijeap Year.— A Musical Duality. By Alfred B. Sedgwick. The music adapted from Offen- bach's '• Genevieve de Brabant." One Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. B^°* Copies of any of the. above Books will be sent^free of postage, on receipt of the retail price. Send Cash Orders to R. M. DE WITT, No. 33 Rose St., N. Y. DE WITL^S ACTING PLAYS (CONTINUED.) 190. Huntings the Slippers ; or. Painless Dentistry.— A Farce, in one Scene. By Mar- tin Becher. Four Male, one Fe- male Character. Price 15 cts. 191. HigU C— A Comedietta, in one Act. By Sydney Rosenfeld. Three Male, two Female Charac- ters. Price 15 cts 192. A Game of Cards.— A Comedietta, in one Act. By L. J . Hollenius. Three Male, one Fe- male Character. Price .... 16 cts. 193. My Walking Photo- gfrapb,— A Musical Duality, in one Act. By Alfred B. Sedgwick. One Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 194. Rum; or, Tbe First Glass.— A Drama, in three Acts. By William Comstock. Seven Male, four Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 195. Rosemi Shell.— A Traves- ty (on " Rose Michel "), in four Scenes. By Sydney Rosenfeld. Six Male, three Female Charac- ters. Price 15 cts. 19G. The Queerest Court- ship.— A Comic Operetta, in one Act. By Alfred B. Sedgwick. One Male, one Female Character, Price 15 cts. 197. The Hunchback. — A Play, in five Acts. By James Sheridan Knowles. Thirteen Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 198. The TTirin Sisters.— A Comic Operetta, in one Act. Bv Alfred B. Sedgwick. Two Male, two Female Characters. Price 16 cts. 199. The Captain of the Watch.— A Comedietta, in one Act. By J. R. Planche. Six Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 200. Estranged.— An Ox)eretta, in one Act. By Alfred B. Sedg- wick. Two Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. SOI. The School for Scan- dal.— A Comedy, in five Acts. By Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Thirteen Male, four Female Char- acters Price 15 cts. 202. Eileen Ogre. — An Irish Drama, in four Acts. By Ed- mund Falconer. Eleven Male, three Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 903. She Stoops to Conquer, A Comedy, in five Acts. By Oliver Gt)ldsmith. Fifteen Male, four Female Characters. Price. 15 cts. 204. ADraTTing-Rooni Car. A Petite Comedy, in one Act. Two Male, one Female Character. Price 15 cts. 205. Circumstances Alter Cases.— A Comic Operetta, in one Act. By Alfred B. Sedgwick. One Male, one Female Character, Price 15 cts. 206. The Hair Apparent.— A Farce, in one Act. By Sydney Bosenfeld. Five Male, one Fe- male Character. Price 15 cts. 207. Sold Agra^i"? and got the ITIoney. — A Comic Operet- ta, in one Act. By Alfred B. Sedgwick. 'Ihree Male, one Fe- male Character. Price 15 cts. 208. ITIarried BacUelors.— A Comedietta, in one Act. By Sydney Eosenfeld. Three Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 209. Otbiello.- A Tragedy, in five Acts. By William Shaks- peare. Sixteen Male, two Female Characters. Price 15 cts. 210. iTIabePs Manoeuvre.- A Parlor Interlude, in one Scene. By Sydney Bosenfeld. One Male, three Female Characters. Price 15 cts. IS?* Copies of any of iht above Books luill he sent^free of postage, on receipt of the retail price. Send Cash Orders to R. M. DE WITT, No. 33 Rose St., N. Y. CJET THE BEST 2 ^ET THE BEST 2 The farmer thinks no pains ill-bestowed in preparing the Boil and selecting his seed, if he wishes for a bountiful harvest. How much more necessary is it to give earnest attention lo the minds of the Little Folks ? The love of reading is now so universal that there is a demand on the part of parents and guardians for the Best Reading Books, and we have spared neither time nor expense in producing WEBSTER'S LITTLE FOLKS' SPEAKER. COMPRISINa Many Standard Pieces, as well as a great many entirely orig-inal, both Sentimental and Humorous. This book is one of tise "^^ortliiest of its kind. It con- tains T^;v o Hundre d ?6nd Eleven I>ist lnct Pieces^ in Prose und Poetry, careffnlly selected from tlie best Au- thors, expressly for KeadiBig' und RecitatJon in Primary as Tv^ell as the next g^rade of Pnfolic and Private Schools* Not only is this "w^orlt of very superior literary merit, but the printing' and binding^ are models of neatness and strength. A careful exantination of Webster^s Little Fol ks^ Speak e r^^wr ill convince that every article has been care- fully culled^ and is marked by true morality as \i'ell as l»y excellence of diction. It can be placed in a child's hand with the certainty that the contents Avill improve the naorals, as \«rell as retine and cultivate the taste. This book contains 200 pages, bound in board, with a brilliant, illuminated cover. Price... 50 Cents. A handsome and durable edition, bound in cloth, elegantly lettered in gilt. Price 7 5 Cen ts. 1^^ Copies of the above Book sent to any address in the world, postage free, on receipt of price. Send Cash Orders to K. M. DE WITT, Publisher, 33 Rose st., N. T. {Between Duane and Frankfort sts.) /'/- LIBRARY OF CONGRESS I Gr^t tJLLO \ ) JUST :]Bos»t : GrGt 022 204 607 5) SUCH A BOOK AS Websterjs Practical Letter Writer has long bot^n neeli|d ; as most works of the kind were cUlier too verbose, or t»o tiite. tame and inf /jfeant. This book hits the happy ineOTffl|i of just suiting the ,• pi*esen»: time, and iitvmish'es examples of every style worilky o'i imitation or oi being copied. 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