NO PLAYS EXCHANGED, 'Baker's Edition' 6t Plays « PLACER GOLD COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. A Companion to "REBECCA'S TRIUMPH." ANITA'S TRIAL; Or, Our Girls in Camp. By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding," "That Patrick," " Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. Price, -------25 cents. This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. The dresses are simple and picturesque camping costumes. The enor- mous success of " Rebecca's Triumph " has created a demand for this sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the difficult problem of constructing a play of strong human interest with- out the assistance of male characters. THE fi HRONOTHAMTOLETRON: OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members of the Class of '87 and first performed before members of the school and their friends, June 18, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, April 6, 1888. Price, - - - ' • - - - - 25 cents. THE PEAK SISTERS. A humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Mary B. Horne. Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. Price, -------15 cents. THE BOOK OF DRILLS. A group of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per- formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. Price, -------30 cents. WALTER H. BAKER & CO, Publishers, 23 Winter St, Boston. PLACER GOLD OR HOW UNCLE NATHAN LOST HIS FARM & Nefo lEnglanfc JBrama tn 8%ro &tta DAVID HILL AUTHOR OF "FORCED TO THE WAR" "BOUND BY AN OATH " OUT OF HIS SPHERE " ETC. BOSTON 1890 *.%** CHARACTERS. NATHAN BARDWELL A farmer QUINCY BARD. WELL ) / T . NED BARDWELL J Hls sons JAMES MONROE Chum to Ned JOSEPH MURPHY Bardwell's hired man SQUIRE CROSBY . A miserly farmer with land joining Bardwell's MIKE O'CONNOR Crosby's hired man CHARLES MAYHEW) n ,, . . .. RICHARD BLYNN ) Gold-mine swindlers SHERIFF MARIA BARDWELL Nathan Bard-welVs wife BELLE BARDWELL The orphan NELLIE CROSBY Crosby's daughter MATILDA . . Crosby's hired girl, afterwards wife to O' 'Connor GIPSY The waif, living at Squire Crosby's PROPERTIES. ACT I. Scene i. — Ropes for jumping-, basket, cake knife, money, bottle, silver knives and forks, doll, wreath of flowers, and necklace. Scene 2. — Fiddle, horns, drum, tin pans, etc. Blunderbuss and nightcap for Nathan. Bundle for Ned. Moonlight. ACT II. Scene i. — Bottle containing samples of ore. Documents for Crosby. Drinking-cup at well. Scene 2. — Hollow log to crawl into. Pick axes, shovels, axe, and pans for washing gold. Ore and gravel on stage. Stuffed owl. Two revolvers. Documents for Crosby, and pen for signing paper. Gold bricks. Small tin trunk for Gipsy. ACT III. Scene i. — Pipe for Joe. Bucket of water at well. Pistol for Gipsy. Gun and cane for Nathan. Scene 2. — Album on table. Package of money, Bible, and documents. Scene 3. — Torch for lighting. Large frame motto, "Welcome Home," for illuminating. NOTE. —The elaborate scenery called for by this piece is only necessary in professional stage performances. For amateur production it may be much simplified, three scenes being all that are absolutely needed for full representation of the piece. Copyright, 1890, by Walter H. Baker & Co. TMP96-G06433 SYNOPSIS. ACT. I. SCENE I. — The bridal party on the lawn. Ned Bardwell, the runa- way. Uncle Nathan and Squire Crosby. " The jinin' of your darter ter my son has sealed a bond o' friendship atween us that ought ter last a lifetime." Mike O'Connor and his new clothes. Why he was two hours late. Fun by the bushel. Rope-jumping, song-singing and dancing. Distributing the wedding gifts. Joe Murphy lelt out in the cold. All promenade. SCENE II. — Uncle Nathan's dooryard. The midnight serenade. Waking the married couple. Fiddle, horns and tin pans. The blun- derbuss. "Hello! you, there! ain't you hit?" "Be jabers, I am; but the fiddle ain't." Welcoming the serenaders. Ned, the runaway. Picture in the window. " Ah, 1 could tell that face among a thous- and." His interview with Gipsy. A sudden farewell. Uncle Nathan excited. The serenaders happy. " Now that we've rousted the new bride, and feasted, and emptied the ould gintleman's cider jug, I feel loike taking my quiet departure." Act closes with song-singing and " Virginia Reel." ACT II. SCENE I. — Uncle Nathan's dooryard same as in Act I., Scene II. After eleven years. Time — morning. Nathan's story to Belle about the giant. "Was you always good, grandpa ? " Mike O'Connor creates a surprise. Crosby and the bogus mine swindler. They interview Uncle Nathan. Placer gold. Crosby's proposition. Nathan cautious. " Dog gone it ! how do I know there is any gold?" The bogus offer and refusal. Plan to meet in Rocky Run Two documents and what they contained. Gipsy's warning. " If money cannot purchase your farm ; if you love it to the extent that your words imply, don't you sign those papers." Picture. SCENE II. — The gold mine of Rocky Run. Mike and Joe digging for gold. Afraid of ghosts. Story of Tom Piper and the goose. Frightened by an owl. Almost discovered. A hollow log and a tree a place of security. Stealing information. Plot to rob Uncle Nathan of his farm. Caught listening. A peculiar predicament. Silenced for two hundred dollars. Crosby, Uncle Nathan and Belle. Placer gold in abundance. Uncle Nathan convinced of his good luck. Mort- gage on the farm. Gold bricks. A curious tablet "Here — here is my tablet, Crosby. It shall be innocence beneath these papers, an' a God ter witness 'em above, an' if evil is in 'em, may they burn the hearts of those who wrought 'em." The spectre among the rocks. Gipsy and the tin trunk. " Nathan Bardwell ! this is the gold mine of Rocky Run." A startling finale. Tableau. 3 SYNOPSIS. ACT III. SCENE I. —Uncle Nathan's dooryard as in Act I. and Act II. Without a home. Mike and Joe. They exchange secrets. Matilda again. Mike hides in the well. Overhears his wife making love to Joe. " Yeez can have her, Joe, yeez can have her." Discovered. A good ducking. Gipsy t6 the rescue. Last day at the old farm. Ejected by the sheriff. Gipsy and the pistol. " Lay a finger upon me, and you will find me a human tigress." Uncle Nathan protects his home. He is overpowered. Gipsy interferes. " Back ! I say ! Your au- thority relates to the farm and not to Nathan. Touch him again if you dare." Picture. SCENE II. — Parlor in Crosby's house. Blynn in search of his daugh- ter. His interview with Gipsy. The mysterious letter in India ink. Gipsy his long lost daughter. Refusing his caresses. " Wait ! thankful though I am to find a father, etc." Blynn tells of his reforma- tion. Ned Bardwell and Gipsy. Business first and love afterwards. The demand of Richard Blynn. Crosby's refusal. The two Irishmen. a We've turned state's evidence, your honor." Ned Bardwell's threat. Blynn's advice. Squire Crosby without a friend. Alone with Gipsy and Belle. The family Bible, and what it contained. Past memories revived. Melted to tears. " I thought I was hardened — case hardened ; but I am not. There is a tender spot left yet." Never too late to reform. Sequel to placer gold. End of the mortgage. The way Belle disposed of a fraud. Picture. SCENE III. — Uncle Nathan's dooryard as in other Acts. Back on the old farm. Time — evening. Curious conundrums. A poor man's experience. Has to dig through six feet of solid silver in order to strike gold. An old man's whim. Carries a twenty-pound weight five miles to balance a twenty pound weight on his way back. Matilda not to be outwitted. Visiting the old home. " Here we are, Maria, creepin' up ter our old home like two thieves in the night." He is shocked by hearing laughter within the nouse. " Did ye hear that, Maria Did ye hear that ? " Not to be reconciled. " They have no hearts, no feelin's, no sense of compassion an' I'll tell 'em of it." Gipsy's welcome. Uncle Nathan in doubt. A grand explanation. Blynn and Crosby give back the farm and crave forgiveness. Two grandpas to love now. A second surprise. Ned in the arms of his parents. Too happy for utterance. " Maria, I — I'm young again. I'm put back twenty years in life." The illuminated motto, " Welcome Home." A happy termination. PLACER GOLD ACT I. SCENE I. — A lawn interspersed with trees, vases of /lowers, etc. Landscape back to match. An ornamental fence running across staqe tack with archway in center. Set trees l. and r. Symphony of chorus in the distance as curtain rises. Enter, C, two young girls dressed in white, each holding a wand. They remain standing each side of archway. These are followed by Quincy and his bride, the young people, Squire Crosby and Matilda, and Uncle Nathan and Maria. They all form two lines toward front. The two in white now pass down center and around the outside, followed by the others in order as in a promenade. After circling twice or more around the stage, the two in white pause L. I e., one on each side of entrance, the others pass through, and are followed by the two in white. For effect there must be no pause, and singing must be continued until all have disap- peared. SONG. Air. — " Come merry birds in winter.' 1 ' 1 Wake ! merry hearts, awaken ! Make the bright welkin ring, Loud with our shouts of gladness, Vocal with songs we sing. Cheerful and happy ever, Free from all sorrow and pain, Shout ! for a day so joyous To us will not come again. Chorus. — Oh, we will scatter flowers Along the smooth highway, This ever bright and joyous, Eventful wedding day. Wake ! merry hearts, awaken ! Sweet wedding bells have rung ; Two hearts are now united, And beating same as one. Cheer them along their pathway, Sing them some happy refrain, Shout ! for a day so joyous To them, will not come again. Chorus. — Oh, we will scatter flowers, etc. 6 PLACER GOLD. {All exeunt, l. 3 e.) {Enter Ned Bardwell, c. He crosses to l. 3 e., and watches the pai'ty in the distance. ) • Ned. There they go, chattering and singing like a flock of crazy blackbirds. Scattering themselves among the trees to feast on wedding sweetmeats, and stare at Quincy's bride. Ha! ha! ha! Quincy married, and I, his brother, turned out of the house. Well, I'm the black sheep among the flock — the bad egg out of the thirteen. I'm the governor's scape-goat. Didn't he say to me this morning, " Ned, quit this house ; and don't you return until you can do so an obedient and dutiful son." {Enter fro?n c, Joe and Gipsy in great haste, and cross l. They are busily talking, and do not perceive Ned in front of them.) Haven't I left? Haven't I sworn never to return ? I never will — (Joe and Gipsy run against him.) Gipsy {starting back in surprise) . O my ! Joe {holding on to his head) . I'm struck wid a brickbat. Ned. Well, what do you take me for — the highway ? Gipsy. Oh, Ned ! you are real mean. Joe. Be jabers ! he's a perfect jackass. Ned {laughing). That's what the governor said this morning. Complimentary, wasn't he ? But I say, Gip, why aren't you with the rest ? Gipsy. What a question ! Didn't I wait for you until I nearly missed the wedding ? Didn't I wait for you at the church until alLhad gone, and Joe had to serve as my escort ? Then didn't I get my dress caught on a brier ? O Ned ! I forgot. How do you like my dress ? {IVhirling around.) • Pretty, isn't it ? You ought to have heard the Squire groan when he paid for it. Why, he actually shed tears. But you haven't told me how I look ? Ned. You haven't given me time. One would almost take you for the bride. Gipsy. I wish I was. There ! I don't either: O dear ! what made you quarrel with your father ? Then to disap- point me so. How could you ? Ned. Well, Gip, it is unnecessary for me to explain. I may be to blame, I admit that ; but I am too stubborn to return. I am going away. Gipsy {in surprise) . Going away, Ned ? PLACER GOLD. 7 Ned. Yes — off to the mines. I'm going to strike gold or bust. Gipsy. Oh, Ned, please "bust " just as quick as you can. Come ! be reasonable. Here ! I want you as my escort. Joe. He-e-e-em. Gipsy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — I forgot. You are my escort, aren't you, Joe ? Well, we won't quarrel ; but if he should consent — Joe. Sure, thin I should be loike the ten vargins ; left out in the cold. Ned. No, Gip. Go in as you have started ; but when an opportunity offers, slip out and see me alone. I will hide among the trees until you return. Gipsy. Well, just as you say. I have a good mind not to, though. It would serve you just right. Come, Joe. ( Wheeling him into line. ) Right about face — eyes to the front — steady — forward — march ! {They exeunt L. 3 E.) Ned. What a girl. Full of life and spirit as the birds of the air. Gushing, at times, with laughter, then sentimental, then fierce as a mountain lion, with a temper that knows no bounds. Would that I knew the history of her birth. Monroe {enters c). Hello, Ned, repenting at leisure ? Why, I'm all ready for a start. Ned. I shall be with you to-night. When darkness sets in, I shall enter my room by the window, secure my wearing apparel, and then farewell to home and friends. Monroe. And to Gipsy at the same time. By Jove ! I should hate to leave that piece of property behind. She's a claim by herself. Ned. Yes, and she may prove a lost claim ,to me. However, it is too late to repent now. Monroe. By the way, Ned, how will the old man take it when he finds out you mean business ? Ned. Oh, he looks at grief with a smile, and always did. My regrets are for my mother. A mother can never forget. Monroe. Well, when we strike that hundred thousand, you can write home, and all will be forgiven. I tell you — you might repent now ; ask the old man's forgiveness, marry Gip, and — Ned. Hold ! Jim ; none of that. The die is cast, and I shall abide by my fate. {Looking off.} Gipsy is returning, so conceal yourself. I would see her alone. 8 PLACER GOLD. Monroe. All right, Ned. I shall not trouble you unless I think I can cut you out. {They exit r. i e.) (Gipsy enters l, 3 e.) Gipsy. IVe come. Why, where are you ? (Ned enters r. 1 e.) Oh, there you are. (Runs to tneet him.) Now haven't I been a real good Gip to return so soon ? Ned (kissing her). You are always good to me, Gip, better than I deserve. Will it continue, think you, through the lapse of years that shall roll between us ? Gipsy. Oh, Ned, you are not going away ? Ned. Yes, Gip ; to-night, after securing what clothing I shall need, I strike out into the world. (Gipsy about to speak. N~et> places his hand over her mouth.) Hold, now ; don't upbraid me. Remember, it is for the best. Gipsy. But it is wicked of you to leave me alone. If you go away, I shall never see you again, never. Ned. Yes, you will, Gip, if you will do as I wish. Cheer up and let me ask you a question. Will you answer it as I desire ? . Gipsy. Perhaps. I hadn't ought to, though. It would serve you just right. Ned. Never mind that. From the hour Squire Crosby found you a little waif by the way-side, and took you in, I have always liked you. We have grown up as children together — only my father's farm between his cottage and yours. I like your wild and roving ways ; the witticisms of your speech ; your love of the woods, and flowers, and birds — Gipsy. And animals, too, Ned. Why, I frightened Matilda nearly to death the other day by carrying in a mouse by the tail. Just think of it ! right by the tail. Ned. Oh, hang the mouse ! Tell me if you will be true to me while I am away ? Gipsy. Certainly ; but you won't go now, will you ? Ned (impatiently). Gipsy, you refuse to believe me. As sure as the sun rises and sets I quit this place to-night. I have sworn to never return, and I never will uritil years have rolled between us, and I am independent with a fortune of my own. Gipsy. But this quarrel originated through your own fault. Ned. I admit all that. Nevertheless, I shall not return. PLACER GOLD. 9 If I am a rough stick, it is better I should keep out of the way. Gipsy. You have never been rough to me, Ned ? Ned. No ; God bless you, Gip ! I have never harmed you by word or deed. (Kissing her.') There! now give me my promise, and I am off. Gipsy. Why, you have it already. Ned. Have I ? Perhaps I have ; but you gave it so lightly, you know. Good-bye, Gip, I will see you again to-night. Until then, farewell. {Kisses her, and rushes off R. I E.) Gipsy {goes r. i e. and looks off). O dear! when he is gone the world will seem like a great, big, empty kettle. I don't believe he'll go, though. If I did, I'd sit right down here ker-plump {sits down) and cry. {Laughing.) I don't care ! I feel sober if I do laugh. {Enter from l. 3 e., Uncle Nathan and Squire Crosby talking. ) Uncle Nathan. Squire, let us shake. {They shake hands.) The jinin' of your darter ter my son has sealed a bond 'o friendship atween us that ought ter last a lifetime. As Davy Crocket would say, " May I be shot ! " if I don't hope it will. Crosby. Yes — yes, I hope so; but connected with a wedding, it is mighty expensive. A hundred dollars wasted on gewgaws and knickknacks that are of no account. Just think of it. Gipsy {aside). Just think of it. W-h-e-w ! Uncle N. Well, Squire, the gal is off your hands now, gewgaws an' all. Ain't ye glad ? I — I reckon ye are, Squire. You're rid of a bill of expense. I tell ye, Crosby, yer don't look at wealth in the right light. Why, if I had money — money like as you have, I — I — I'd scatter it all around a-tryin' ter make other people happy. Hang me ! if I wouldn't. Crosby. And live a pauper all your days. Ah, no ; Give me gold — gold. I love to see it glitter; feel its magic touch in my hand ; stack it Up in piles ; shake it, and hear it jingle. There's music in the sound — music. Save money, Nathan; save money. Hoard it up — keep it. When you are old, you can count it, gloat over it — IO PLACER GOLD. Gipsy (imitating him). Butter it and eat it. Give me money, or — Oh, Father Crosby; if I had money, do you know what I would do with it ? Crosby (snappishly). Yes; throw it to the dogs and die poor. Gipsy. No I wouldn't, either. Crosby. Well, what would you do with it ? Gipsy. I'd buy a pig. Crosby. A pig ? What would you do with a pig ? Gipsy. Oh, I'd twist its tail and hear it squeal. (Imi- tating.) There's music in the sound — music. (Laughs.) Crosby. The minx. (Retires up stage angrily, seats himself on bench R. of c.y Uncle N. (laughing, and crossing to Gipsy). Lord bless ye, Gipsy, if yer couldn't crack a joke, you'd die quicker'n Stebben's dog did when he got choked with a bone. Darn me ! if you ain't sharp as a razor. (Chucking her under the chin.) W-w-why, gal, if I warn't an old man, an' married at that, I'd smack you with a good old fatherly kiss — stick me with Burgundy pitch if I wouldn't. Gipsy (looking sober). Oh, no, Uncle Nathan, you couldn't kiss me to-day, nohow. Uncle N. What! couldn't kiss you to-day ? Lord bless ye, gal, what has the day ter do with it ? Gipsy. Oh, I'm not happy to-day. I'm out of sorts — that's all. Uncle N. Out o' sorts ? Why, gal, ye look happy enough. Lord bless ye, I guess ye do. Out o' sorts ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! I — I didn't know you was ever tooken with that disease. What brought it on ; biliousness ? Gipsy. Oh, you know. Uncle N. Hey ? It ain't that scapegoat son o' mine ? The ungrateful rascal! Not content with abusin' his old father, he must show his wilfulness by slightin' the weddin'. Let him go, Gipsy, let him go. He's not worthy of you. Not worthy of you no more nor a kicking colt is worthy of a new harness. Let him go, I say. Gipsy (looking up archly into his face) . Uncle Nathan, won't you forgive him ? Uncle N. (excited). Forgive him ? Me forgive my son t B-b-blast it ! gal, he should ask my forgiveness. PLACER GOLD. I I Didn't he abuse me — mc, his father ? Didn't he, I say ? Then why should I forgive him ? Gipsy. Because I love him. If you don't forgive him, he will never return. Uncle N. Let him go, then — let him go. I've loved my children — IVe indulged 'em — I've petted an 1 babyed 'em ; an' this is my reward for it. Let him go, I say. Gipsy. But he will never return. Uncle N. Won't he ? won't he return ? Er — er — let him go, then. If he likes roughin' it, an' dissolute compan- ions better than his mother who worships him, or his father, who 'ud fight for him till he broke the last bone in his rickerty old body, let him have them. He'll see the dif- ference sometime — sometime, Gipsy. Gipsy. But, Uncle Nathan — Uncle N. I won't — I won't — I won't hear another word — another word — not a word. He's a jackanapes ! an impudent rascal ! a dissolute rogue ! a — a — Gipsy (jumping up and placing her handover his mouth). Uncle Nathan, Ned is your son. Now don't be angry with Gip, please don't. Sit right down here and laugh. (He tries to release her hand.) No ; I'm going to hold my hand right over your mouth until you smile. (He sits down.) There! (Looking into his face.) Are you smiling, Uncle Nathan? (Uncle Nathan seen to smile.) Ha! ha! you are. I knew you couldn't keep angry with me, could you ? Uncle N. (laughing). Why, gal, what are ye made on — what are ye made on. Darn me! if you won't make a man rave like a tornado, then smooth him all down like the surface of a lake without a ripple on it. What are ye made on, Gip ? Gipsy. Clay, Uncle Nathan. (Looking off l.) Ah, here they come. Let's meet them. (Catches hold of Uncle. Nathan, and whirls him over to l.) Uncle N. Hold on — hold on, gal! you're yankin 1 the life clean out of me. (Enter from l. 3 e., Quincy and 'Nellie, followed by Mrs. Bardwell, Matilda, Joe and others. They scatter to different parts of the stage. Joe comes down L. Quincy and his bride seat themselves l. c.) 12 PLACER GOLD. Gipsy (l. a). Oh, Mrs. Bardwell, do scold Uncle Nathan. WeVe had a quarrel, and made up, and all inside of five minutes. Mrs. B. Just as I expected. I have to keep my eye upon him continually, or he is sure to get into trouble. Uncle N. Maria ! Maria ! don't show me off right afore my new darter-in-law. Doggone it ! if it wasn't for you I might be taken for a President. {Crossing to Nellie.) Look a-here, Nellie, you look as slick as a duck in full plumage. Why, I wouldn't mind a-weddin 1 of ye myself. Mrs. B. Nathan! Uncle N. B-b-blest if I didn't forget that you was present. {All laugh.) Come, Maria, let's you and I crochet ter a seat, and show less. {Takes her arm and crosses to seat R. I E.) Gipsy {to Nellie). Say, Nellie, do you know what is the matter with Father Crosby ? Nellie. No ; do you, Gipsy ? Gipsy. Yes, he's had a shock. Nellie. A shock ? Gipsy. Yes, I shocked him. He"ll live through it though. {Running to Crosby and throwing her arms around his neck.) Won't you, Father Crosby ? Crosby. Go away, child. You bother me. Gipsy {laughing). Then I'm like a fly, ain't I ? But you are not angry with me, are you ? Crosby. No; only so much nonsense irritates me. Irri- tates me, child. Gipsy {laughing). Well, the best remedy for an irrita- tion, that I know of, is sweet oil. {Laughing, and crossing to Joe.) Come, Joe, let's wake up the crowd. This is altogether too quiet for a wedding. Joe. Shure and I'm ov the same moind meself. {They pass from one to the other, laughing and talking.) Quincy. Yes, let us all be merry. We know not what the morrow may bring forth. Uncle N. I reckon ter me it will bring forth a-shearin' o' sheep — Mrs. B. Keep still, Nathan. Uncle N. Lord bless ye, Maria, can't a man waddle his tongue without being cruppered ? PLACER GOLD. I 3 (Mike heard singing off r. c. ) Gipsy. Hurrah ! here comes Mike. Now we'll have some music. Matilda. I'd rather hear it thunder than hear an Irishman sing. (Crosses io r. c.) Mike (singing). Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn, He was bold as a hawk, she soft as the dawn, He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to tease. Now Rory be aisy, etc. , etc. (Enters c.) Mike. Och ! its glad I am to see your swate faces, though it's meself that is tardy in getting here. Upon me sowl I hurried loike a man afther the doctor ; but a slight accident debarred me from reaching the wedding in time to kiss the bride. Nellie. Did you meet with an accident, Mike ? Mike. Why, av coorse. Have you noticed this suit ? Bad luck to the tailor who stole the goose, if he didn't shave from the cloth, and add to the bill. Consequently, when I put it on it was as tight as a number five shoe on a number eight foot. As I stooped to pick up a bill which I had drapped, there was a gineral breakin' away av the back stiches, which left me in a demoralized condition, I kit. tell yeez. "What is that?" sez I. "Only a slight tare," sez he. " Tare an' ages !" sez I, " what's to be done ?" " Sthand where you are," sez he, "and I will make an insertion." Begorra, I stood for two mortal hours loike a stationary cigar sign, while he stitched me into proper shape to recave company. Thin what did the dirthy spalpeen do afther the job was complayted, but add onother tin dollars to the bill. Nellie. Why, what was that for ? Mike. For the insertion, av coorse. Did ye iver see the loiks ? (He turns around, and shows large strip of black cloth stitched into back of coat and seat of his pantaloons ; all laugh.} Gipsy (laughing). Why, Mike, you are like Joseph with a coat of many colors. Joe. Yis, loike a postage stamp — stamped. 14 PLACER GOLD. Mike. Av coorse I am. Didn't the spalpeen say, ' ' Variety was the spice of life ? " Begorra ! I had to pay for the spice. {Retires icp stage. All laugh-, to Nellie.) Arrah, acushla, you look as bloomin' as a shamrock in spring. Shure it's meself wishes someone had sent a kiss to yeez through my conveyance. Nellie. Oh, never mind that, Mike. I don't need any. Gipsy. And if she did, Ouincy would convey them, never you fear. Wouldn't you Quince ? Quincy. Well, I should do my duty; but what about that song ? All {together). Yes, a song ! a song ! Mike. Och ! niver yez moind a song till the band is ready to play. Skippin' the rope is the delight ov ladies, and the gintlemen ain't slow to indulge in the same enjoy- ment. {Taking rope from his pocket.) Shure it's meself nades a partner to do honor to the occasion. Gipsy {coming forward). Well, I'm here. Mike. Begorra, so you are. I should have known it without your spakin'. Shure you look as fresh as a pink in the spring with the dew on it. Now to limber the joints, an' thin we'll have the song afterwards. {Music. Mike and Gipsy jump rope, which is swung by Joe and one other. If preferred they can jufnp separate ropes swung by themselves. All cheer at close. ) Uncle N. {rising and co?ning forward). Look a-here, now, I wouldn't mind tryin' a hand at that air rope myself. Mike {handing him rope) . Begorra ! you kin have the floor at your own convanyance. Come ! form a ring and let the ould gintleman limber his trotters. ( They for?n a half circle with Uncle Nathan in the center. All are laughing and talking. ) Mrs. B. (l. i e.). Now, Nathan, don't make a fool of yourself. Uncle N. Lord bless ye, Maria, don't be so pesky can- tankerous. Let me alone, can't ye ? Why, I feel as frisky as a two-year-old steer. Frisky ? I — I guess I do. I kin take the kinks out 'o this ere rope quicker'n it took Tom Hooker ter pop the question. I — I — I guess I kin. PLACER GOLD. 1 5 Gipsy. Wait ! Father Crosby must join us. (Running down stage to R. C.) Come ! you are wanted in the ring. Crosby. Away! Such frivolities are boorish. Racket and confusion without profit. Gipsy. Oh, well, this is a free show, so come along. {Leads him into the circle.} Uncle N. Come ! I'm getting anxious ter show off. Lord bless ye, I feel all of a nettle, as the boy said jumpin 1 into 'em arter he'd been in swimmin'. Are ye reach ? Mike. Av coorse — av coorse. It's on the anxious seat we are, awaitin' the motion ov your rivirence. {Music. Business of Uncle Nathan jumping rope. When he has finished, all cheer and clap their hands. Nathan goes R. i e.)* . Gipsy. Now, Mike, let us hear from you. Mike. Hear from me, is it ? Begorra ! I'd be ashamed * Note. — If Uncle Nathan wishes to introduce a song at this point, the following dialogue may be used : Gipsy {after all Jiave finished). O listen ! I want to say something. Mike. Begorra ! you always did. Quincy. What is it, Gip? Gipsy. I want Uncle Nathan to sing the first song. All {cheering). Hurrah! hurrah! give us a song! a song! Uncle N. A song? Me sing a song? Lord bless ye ! I sung one once, an' — an' what d'yer s'pose was the result ? Joe. An engagement at fifty dollars a week. Uncle N. Hey? Did you say anything? Gipsy. What was the result, Uncle Nathan ? Uncle N. Fined five dollars and costs for breakin' the peace. All {together ; laughing). Give us the song! Give us the song! Gipsy {going to him). Uncle Nathan, sing us the song, and then we'll introduce Mike. You will, won't you? Uncle N. I — I'd du anything ter please ye, Gip; but a song, I — I — . Howsomever, s'longs this's a weddin', I'll make a fool 'o myself, I'll be cow- cumbered if I won't. {Goes down front.) Mrs. B. Nathan ! Uncle N. Maria, will you keep quiet ? Lord bless ye ! quench a fire when it fust starts, an' you'll save the buildin'. They won't want ter hear me only once — only once, Maria, so here goes : {Song introduced.) {At close Uncle Nathan goes r. i e. All shout, " Hurrah for Uncle Nathan " wlten Jie has finished singing.) Uncle N. Wa'all Maria, I've lived through it. Passed through the fiery furnace like Shadrach an' Abednego, an' come out whole. Haven't I, now ? Jest look at me an' see. Lord bless ye, when you're asked ter du a thing, don't fidget an' wriggle around like a man hitched ter a hornet's nest, but jest go right ter work an' do it. Jest du it, I say. Mrs. B. Then, Nathan, will you please sit. down here and keep quiet ? Uncle N. Hey? Why, sartin' — sartin' I will, Maria. Why didn't ye speak about it afore ? {Sits down.) \6 PLACER GOLD. ov meself to refuse afther the present occasion. Jest make shure that you all kin sthand it, an 1 111 open wid all me batteries. (Mike introduces song if desired. When he has finished they all cheer and shout for another.} Mike. Och ! don't be afther askin' me again, or it's blushing I shall be entoirly. The man who shows himsel! to advantage the first time, better hold that advantage b keeping still. Matilda. I motion we go home. Mike. Arrah, I'm wid you, Matilda. Til go wid you. Matilda. You won't if I know it. Mike. O well ! it's not the first toime you've mittened me, so I kin sthand it. Gipsy. Wait ! we must distribute the presents. Go get them, Joe. (Joe exit c.) Nellie. Am I to be the recipient of presents ? Oh, this is a pleasure indeed. Quincy. Indeed it is ; and for which we express our heartfelt thanks. Mike. Don't be afther thankin' for a present until yeez have got it. Begorra ! it may fall short of the appreciation of your highness, if I so may be allowed the expression. Gipsy. Here they come. (Joe enters c. with basket, and advances front.} Now unpack them, Joe, and let me show them off. {Business of unpacking presents. Gipsy takes them.) Well, to begin with, here's a cake-knife. {Reading label.) From Squire Crosby's hired girl, Matilda. {Holding it up. ) Isn't it lovely ? Nellie {taking it). Just a little beauty. Oh, thank you, Matilda. Gipsy {taking package from Joe) . Then here's a twenty dollar bill. {Reading label.) From Uncle Nathan and Maria. (Quincy takes it.) Crosby. Ha ! extravagance ! extravagance ! Mike. Begorra ! I wouldn't moind some ov them presents meself. Gipsy {taking package). And here is a bottle of sooth- ing syrup. {Reading label.) From Joe. {Holds up bottle. All laugh.) Joe. Be jabers ! the druggist said they mo ; ght nade it. PLACER GOLD. I 7 Quincy {taking bottle). And we may, Joe. We will keep it for future reference. Gipsy. Here is a set of silver knives and forks. {Reads label.) From Squire Crosby. Crosby. Cost eight dollars — eight dollars in cash. Nellie {taking them and looking them over) . And they are so nice. Mike {aside). He could pay a hundred dollars to the rest of us a cent and thin have money in the bank. Gipsy {taking present). Oh, what's this ? {Holding up large doll.) A doll, as I live ; and presented by Mike. {All laugh.) Mike. It'll come handy to go with the syrup. Kape it, acushla. Nellie {taking doll). Indeed, I will; and with many thanks. Gipsy. Oh, here's the loveliest present of all. {Holding up wreath of flowers.) A wreath of flowers and a necklace. The label reads : " Presented by admiring friends." {Hold- ing it up.) Isn't it splendid ? Nellie. Oh, how can we ever repay you all ! These presents are more than we deserve. Crosby. Altogether. Same amount invested in govern- ment bonds would be drawing interest. Good interest. Uncle N. Er — er — hang the interest, Crosby, when the principal is makin' others happy. Why, I'd ruther see sunshine on the faces of these young people, an 1 placed there through my money, than all the cowpons you could stick in a bushel basket. Hang me for a pirate, if I wouldn't. Crosby. Folly ! folly ! you are ruined through your gen- erosity, Nathan — your generosity. Uncle N. Wa'all I'm purty considerable kind 'o happy, Crosby, an' I kiender cakerlate you ain't. Gipsy. Let's put these things back in the basket, and then close with a promenade. {They fill basket.) Quince, you and Nellie lead off. {Aside.) I wish Ned was here. Quincy. Certainly. {Goes down stage, c.) Now let the rest form on. Mike {to Gipsy). Come, acushla, would yeez moind racavin 1 a partner afther the loiks ov meself ? Gipsy. Why, certainly not. {All form on except Joe and Matilda.) I 8 PLACER GOLD. Joe. (holding basket r. i e.). Well, where am I ? Mike. Begorra, yeez kin have Matilda. I didn't dare ask her meself. Matilda (l. i e.). I rather have him anytime than you. {They form on.) (Music. All promeTiade. Joe in rear with Matilda. He carries basket. When proper, Quincy and Nellie pass out C, followed by the others. Scene closes with same song as at opening. ) Note. — If necessary, the rope jumping can be omitted. In the sentence where Mike says: " Och ! niver yeez moind a song till the band is ready to play ; " let Gipsy answer : ** O listen! I want to say something.'''' Then continue. In the same way Mike's song may be cut, if desired. TABLEAU CURTAIN. SCENE II. — Uncle Nathan's dooryard. The midnight serenade. Set farmhouse c. R. Fence across stage back with gate in center, and country landscape in the distance. If convenient, outhouses to the L. If not, set trees. Old- fashioned well near L. c, boxed up, and with sweep extending out l. Set trees near house with bench in front. Everything to make a farmer's dooryard complete. Square block near l. c, front, for seat. As curtain rises, Joe, Mike, Gipsy, Matilda and others are discovered, with fiddle, horns, dnun, pans, etc., giving serenade. Moon- light. For simplicity s sake the set of scene I ?nay be used for this scene with dark stage. Mike (c, to Joe, who stands in front of house with fiddle). Grase thim sthrings, ye spalpeen, or yeez will be afther razin' the whole country. Begorra ! they squake loud enough to wake the dead already. Joe. Shure I'm ov the same moind as yourself, Moike. (Chamber window seen to open, and Uncle Nathan, with night-cap on, looks down upon the crowd. As they con- tinue playing, he quietly withdraws, and soon reappears with blunderbuss, which he pokes out of window, and fires off over their heads. All disappear b?it Joe, who fiddles on undisturbed.) PLACER GOLD. 19 Uncle N. {looking down at Joe). Helloa, you, there! ain't yer hit ? \ . Joe (playing) . Be jabers ! I am ; but the fiddle am t. Uncle N. I should know it — I should know it. Say, now, jest stop that consarned racket, an 1 — Til treat the hull CrOwd. r 17 J L 47 Mike {rushing oitt from behind fence, followed by the others) . Begorra ! I'm wid you, as the tail said to the cat. Uncle Nathan disappears.} Uncle N. {appearing in doorway buttoning suspenders, end with candle in his hand, Night-cap still on). W-w- v, hat's goin' on here ? Ain't a fire anywheres, is there ? Gipsy {coming down). Hallo! Uncle Nathan. Uncle N. {shading his eyes with his hand) . Hey ? You here ? Well, well this beats all natur. Everybody broke loose jest like the dogs of Rome. Gipsy. Did you intend to shoot us, Uncle Nathan ? Uncle N. Did I ? Well, now, that's a purty for'ard question. A-a-ain't shot riz in market ? Couldn't waste a charge for nuthin', could I ? Lord bless ye, Gip, if you'd been in front of that air gun, it ud a-blowed ye into kingdom come as sure as natur. Matilda. O my ! Mike. Hould on, Matilda, the ould gmtleman was iokin'. . , Uncle N. Wa'all I s'pose you are arter that air son o mine an' his new bride ? Mike. Begorra, yeez have hit the nail on the head tne first toime. .... , Uncle N. {shouting inside). Maria! Maria! ain't them young people out o' bed yet ? .„',', Mrs. B. {inside). Yes, Nathan, they will be there shortly. Uncle N. Jest tell 'em it ain't perlite ter keep company waitin'. {Comes down.) Wa'all, the night is the same, an' the crickets chirrup jest as nat'ral as they did when I was a yengster, an' — an' went on a racket like this myself. Jest sech a racket precisely. Gipsy. You didn't wear that cap, did you, Uncle Nathan.' Uncle N. {placing his hand on his head). Hey ? Have I got my cap on ? Sure enough ! Wa'all, I'm forgetful, ye see ; but I'll take it off ter please ye . ( Takes off cap. ) 20 PLACER GOLD. (Quincy and Nellie appear in doorway. All cheer.} Quincy. Good evening, friends. Allow me to present my bride. {Leads Nellie down steps.} Mike. And it's quite presentable she is with the moon- light fallin' on her features. Shure I wouldn't moind shakin' hands for the friendship I bear yeez. {All shake hands laughing and talking.} Quincy {after the greeting is over}. Now follow me into the house and we will give you the best the larder affords. {All cheer, and rush toward house. } Mike. Come, Matilda, I'll show you in. Matilda. All right, Michael. Uncle N. {stopping J oe, and taking fiddle from him}. Here ! don't for the life of ye take that air thing into the house. Joe {exhibiting surprise}. What the divil is the matter ? Uncle N. {placing it on bench}. Why, the pesky thing might get wound up agin, an' if it did it ud never stop. {Laughing.} Go on, Joe, it's all right — it's all right. {All exit into the house.} {Music. Ned enters cautiously fi'om L.) Ned. Now is the time to act. While they make merry within, I can steal into the window, secure my apparel, and escape unobserved. {Laughter within.} Hear them laugh ! Ten to one if they remember I ever existed. Well, it is only to see ourselves as we really are to know of how little importance we are in the eyes of other people. I wonder if Gip is among them. {Creeps to window. Singing and laughter continued. } Yes, there she is, the merriest of the group. Beyond her, seated with her head resting on her hands — Ah, I could tell that form among a thousand. Too often have I pillowed my head upon her breast, listened to her soft caresses, felt her tender kisses upon my lips, to forget the form of that mother who gave me birth. Well, well, I must to business, or I shall find myself at her feet and asking her forgiveness. {Steals to window R. H. front. Singing continued within.} Let them sing. It will drown the sound of my movements, and prevent my being dis- covered. PLACER GOLD. 21 {Music. Gipsy emerges through doorway. Singing con- tinued.} Gipsy (coming front) . Well, I've got out without being missed. Now if I could see Ned, I should feel happy. Seems to me he ought to be here ; and if he is here, I ought to see him ; and if I do see him, I'll do my best to persuade him to give up his rash purpose. I presume he won't do it, though. O clear ! (Goes down R. H. Perceives window open.) Why, he has been here, and gone. (Looks into window.) No; he is on the inside. Til hide at the corner, and when he passes, I'll make him jump. (Hides at end of building. ) Ned (emerging through window with bundle). Well, I have burglarized my own apartment. Wonder if I should excel in the art if I followed it ? (Closes window.) Wish I could see Gip for a moment ; but time is too precious. The little witch doubts my words, and so may not put in an appearance. (Passes Gip and goes l.) Gipsy (sighing) . O dear ! Ned (starting and looking around) . What ! you here ? Blest if I noticed you. (Returns to Gip.) Gipsy. I don't think you wanted to. Ned. Yes I did, Gip. Don't imagine I think lightly of you. You are in my thoughts continually. I love you, Gip. Gipsy. Then why do you leave me ? Ned. Under the circumstances I consider it a duty. Gipsy. Is it a duty to break your mother's heart ? Remember, she bore up to-day contrary to her feelings. To-night she has been weeping. (Crossing to window.) Look in here, Ned, and you can see her. Ned (without moving) . I have seen her. Gipsy. Did the sight not move your heart ? Ned (crossing to her). Gip, don't talk of such things. I am not here to repent — far from it. What I wish to say relates directly to yourself; and even in that I must be brief. Gipsy. Then a mother's tears, and the supplications of a sweetheart will not swerve you from your purpose ? Ned. No — no ; I am firm in my resolve as the pyramids of Egypt. I cannot be moved or shaken. Now let us drop this subject, and speak of yourself. Tell me truly that you love me, and will adhere to me through thick and thin. 22 PLACER GOLD. Gipsy (very slowly~). Oh, I couldn't do that, Ned. Ned. What ! don't you love me ? Gipsy. O yes ; but — but I'm not adhesive, you know. Ned. Gip, stop this joking. If you cannot talk to me as I desire, give me a kiss, and I will be off. Gipsy. No. Ned (releasing her hands') . ' ' No ? " Do you mean it, Gip? Gipsy. I do. I am firm in my resolve as — as Gibraltar. I cannot be moved or shaken. Let us — Ned. Very well. (Moving off.) I shall not force you against your will. Some one approaches, so farewell. ( Waves his hand and moves off L. ) Gipsy (running after him). Oh, Ned! Ned! I don't mean it, indeed I don't ! (Catches him by lapel of coat and tries to pull him back.) Come back, please do. Ned (resisting). Too late. They are already in the door. Let me go. Quick! (Trying to release himself ) Gipsy (holding on to coat) . No — no ; I won't — I won't — Ned. You must, Gip. (Wrenches away. Tail to coat tears off.) There! now farewell. (Disappears l. i e.) Gipsy (almost crying). Oh, Ned, you are cruel. Gone without a kiss, and all through my own fault. (Looking at tail to coat.) Well, I've got so much to remember him by, and I'll keep it, too. (Puts it into her pocket.) Uncle N. (emerging through doorway followed by Mrs. Bardwell) . W-w-what is it you've got, Gipsy ? Gipsy (sneezing). A cold, Uncle Nathan; and if you remain in this night air, you'll catch one, too. Mrs. B. Gipsy, you have been talking with my boy. Oh, tell me that he has returned ? Gipsy. Yes, he returned ; but he has gone again. He left me this to remember him by. Look ! Uncle Nathan. (Shows remnant of coat.) Uncle N. Wa'all, it's as much as I expected, an 1 — an' a leetle more. Mrs. B. Is it possible, Gipsy, that my boy is deserting his home ? Gipsy. It looks like it. I found him here with bag and baggage. I did my best to dissuade him, but all to no PLACER GOLD. 23 purpose. He was determined to go, and go he did. You noticed this ? {Showing cloth.) Well, I tore it off while trying to hold him back. Mrs. B. Oh, Nathan, you were too hasty in your repri- mand. You must have given away to your temper. Are you sure this was not the case ? Uncle N. Maria, I am careful of my temper. B-blast it ! I haven't got any temper. The boy was impudent — impudent, I say, an 1 I turned him out of the house. Mrs. B. But you know, Nathan, you get excited too easily. Had you been gentle with him this would not have happened. Uncle N. {growing excited). B-b-blast it! I was gentle — gentle as a lamb, I tell ye. I told him ter get out of the house; an' an' — an 1 if he didn't, I would kick him out. That's what I told him, Maria. Mrs. B. But that was not the proper language to use. Uncle N. W-w-wasn't it the proper language ? Dog rot it ! didn't he call me an old fool — me, his father. Didn't he, I say ? Is that the language for a child ter use ter a parent ? A-a-anything honorable about it ? Anything in the commandments that sanctions sech language ? Mrs. B. But what did you say ? You must have irri- tated him somehow ? Uncle N. S'posin' I did — s'posin' I did! Didn't he desarve it ? Er — er — hasn't he been devilin' round in bad company ? Haven't I cotched him drinkin' ? Don't he neglect his duty ? Anything about sech conduct ter be proud of ? Anything ter m ike me humble, an' linient, an forget my sense o' duty ? Mrs. B. Your duty, Nathan, I do not question. Your mode of performing it I cannot sanction. That boy cannot be driven no more than yourself. You have undertaken it, and now you can see the result. Uncle N. Look a-here, Maria, that boy is old enough ter know better. Do you sense it, Maria ? Now — now have I got to lead him around with a string as you would a bear, an' teach him his actions ? Out upon sech nonsense, Maria ! He knows his duty, an' if he can't abide by it, let him go. Let him go, I say. Gipsy. Uncle Nathan, he is sorry for his conduct, for he 24 PLACER GOLD. told me so himself. The trouble is, he is too proud to return. Uncle N. Too proud, is he ? Done wrong, an' — an 1 ashamed ter own it. Blast it ! no man should be too proud ter acknowledge a fault. When he becomes sorry, hell come back. Don't you fret about that — he'll come back. Gipsy. Would you welcome him if he should ? Uncle N. Would I ? Why, Lord bless ye, Gip, I'd welcome him with open arms. Don't I love that boy ? I — I — reckon I do. That's no reason, though, that I should make a fool of him ? No reason that I should let him twist me around his finger — no reason at all. Mrs. B. Don't you think it your duty to see him and persuade him to return ? Gipsy. Oh, do, Uncle Nathan. Uncle N. {excited). M-Maria, you've said enough. You — you've all said enough. Blast it ! do you want me to make a fool of myself ? Ask him ter come back ? I — I — I'll see him him hanged fust. I'll see him in Halifax. {Crosses to block c. l. and sits down.) You've said enough — enough, I say. Mrs. B. But, Nathan — Uncle N. H-h-hold on, now, I won't hear another word — not a word. I won't be apron-stringed, I tell ye. Enough of a thing is enough whether you like it or not. Let me alone. Gipsy (dryly). I guess if the weather holds we shall have a storm. Don't you, Mrs. Bardwell ? (Laughter within.) Hello! here comes the crowd. Now, Uncle Nathan, if we don't have you laughing inside of five minutes then Gipsy is no prophet. (Mrs. Bardwell seats herself. r. c. Gipsy c.) (Enter Mike, Joe, Ouincy, Nellie, Matilda and others from house.) Mike. Now that we've rousted the new bride, and feasted, and imptied the ould gintleman's cider jug, I feel loike takin' a quiet departure. (To Gipsy.) How is it with yourself, acushla ? Gipsy. Well, if you've got all there is in the house, I might second the motion. Matilda. If he didn't it was his own fault. PLACER GOLD. 2$ Joe. Bejabers, he hunted hard enough. Mike. Och ! didn't I lave you the jug that contained the cider ? Joe. Shure and that was all you did lave, for there was no cider in it. Mike. Arrah ! did yeez iver see the jug that was capable ov leaping full ? Show me the loiks, and Til own it, handle and all, if I have to stale it. Quincy. Look here, my friends, don't think to get off so easily. You have made merry within, now make merry without, and wake up the birds, and let them know that this is a night of rejoicing. All {together} . A song ! a song ! a song ! Joe. Yis, sing the Doxology. Gipsy (runs to Uncle N. and throws her arms around his neck) . Can I see a smile on your face in the moonlight ? You are not angry now, are you ? Uncle N. I — I'm thawin', I guess. Lord bless ye, how can a man keep angry with so much sunshine around him. Gipsy. Moonlight, Uncle Nathan. Uncle N. H-h-hey ? Wa'all, what's the difference when you don't know it ? Gipsy. Will you sing, Uncle Nathan ? Uncle N. I'll sing at it — I'll sing at it, Gip. Lord bless ye, I'd stand on my head ter please ye. (All cheer, and call for Uncle Nathan.) Wa'all if I must, I — I s'pose I must. So here goes, as the boy said when he slid off from the roof. SONG. — " Voices of the Farm:" (This is less a song than a recitation, having been chanted or intoned by the original performer to a tune and rhythm of his own with great effect. ) Ho ! fair Ceres, ho ! ' Tis early morn and the day is fair ; Up from the valley fog is lifting. " Drive those cattle from cornfield, there ! " " Sic 'em, Tige !" on the air comes drifting. Tin-pails, cowbells, and tools keep a-clattering. Whang ! in the distance goes a gun. All such sounds of manual labor Show quite plainly, day has begun. Ho ! Joseph Murphy, limber up your fiddle ! 26 PLACER GOLD. Let us make the old welkin ring ! The birds, and beasts, and the little insects All will delight to dance and sing. Stand upon a hilltop, on a summer morning, Not one sound will your quick ears miss, Lowing of the cattle, cooing of the house-dove, And in the distance such sounds as this : Ker-dake ! ker-dake ! ker-dake ! ker-dake ! ker-dake ! ker-dake ! Such sounds as these will the senses thrill On a summer morning, calm and still. Ho ! fair Ceres, ho ! The hour is noon, and the sun is high ; Grass in the wind gently waving. Swallows chitter in a cloudless sky — Quack ! go the ducks in waters laving. Turkeys, and geese, and hens keep a chattering — Down in the barn a rooster crows ; Here that juvenile wind-mill turning Rattle-te-bang ! in the wind that blows. Hark to that sound — oh ! that heavenly music ! What can thrill like a dinner horn ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! the echoes answer, Out from the fields of grain and corn. Stand upon a hill top, on a summer noon-day, Not one sound will your quick ears miss; Going home from labor, driving yokes of oxen, And the words you hear will sound like this : Gee — gee off there, Buck ! Haw! Whoa-hish! whoa-hish! — Star- line! Such sounds as these will the senses thrill On a summer noon-day calm and still. Ho ! fair Ceres, ho ! The day is done, and the sun is set ; Dew on the grass is softly falling. Cow-bells tinkle in the distant lot — Crows to their mates are harshly calling. Crickets in the grass keep cherruping, cherruping. Hark ! in the swamp the night-birds sing. Whip-poor-will, cat-bird, thrush and sparrow — Whir-r-r ! goes a shooting night-hawk's wing. Ho ! father long-legs ! seated on a thistle ! Hear his legs on his silk wings grind! The toads, and the frogs, are wierdly croaking — All kind of noises seem combined. Stand upon a hill-top, on a summer evening, Not one sound will your quick ears miss ; Barking of the house-dog, rustle of a leaflet, And from the pasture such sounds as this : Co-boss ! co-boss ! co-boss ! co-boss ! co-boss ! co-boss ! Such sounds as these will the senses thrill On a summer evening, calm and still. ( When he has finished, all shout : ' ' Hurrah for Uncle Nathan ! " Uncle Nathan crosses l.) Mike. Begorra ! the whole farm was worked into that conglomeration but jest the ould oaken bucket and the cat. Thim two articles was left out entoirly. PLACER GOLD. 2*J Joe. And one other thing. Mike. Indade ! would yeez be afther explaining what ? Joe. Mike O'Connor, Crosby's hired man. Mike. Arrah ! yeez are correct, me boy. And the omis- sion of the same is where the piece lost one of its strongest faytures. But, whist ! now I think ov it, there's another omission av far more consequence thin the other. Gipsy. Now, Mike, it is my time to ask what. Mike. An ould toime counthry dance in the dooryard. The ould gintleman couldn't sing it, an' in order to make the thing complayte, and tarminate the night in proper shape, begorra ! I motion we act it. ( Cries of ' * Yes I yes ! — Hurrah ! hurrah ! — Virginia Reel!" etc.) Quincy. Nothing could suit me better. Come ! let us form on. Nellie and I will take the lead. {They form o?i.) Gipsy (crossing to Mike who is down R. i e.). Come, Mike, have I got to ask you to be my partner ? Mike. Well, the gintleman who waits for an invitation is niver in danger ov being refused. I'm wid you, acushla. Matilda (stepping in front and taking Mike away) . Well, I guess not. Gipsy {laughing'). Good-by, Michael. Come, Joe, I'll take you. Quincy {after all are formed on) . All ready. Commence! {Music, dance.) (Uncle Nathan beco?nes excited as the dance progresses, and beats time to the music. At last he dances over to Mrs. Bardwell who is seated R. c. back.) Uncle N. Maria! I — I can't stand it! Come! let us dance . ( Catches hold of her. ) Mrs. B. Oh, Nathan ! I don't feel like dancing. Uncle N. But — but you must, Maria. Lord bless ye, I'm young again clean ter the back bone. Come ! come along. (He pulls her into set. All dance, during which curtain falls.) (Eleven years supposed to have elapsed between the first and second acts.) 28 PLACER GOLD. ACT II. SCENE I. — Nathan BardweWs dooryard, same as in Act /., Scene J. As curtain rises, Uncle Nathan and Belle are discovered seated on a be?ich r. c, under tree. Nathan is much older in appearance, and goes with cane. Time — morning. Uncle N. {relating story). Now the collier lived in a cottage that was haunted by a terrible specter. This specter hated wicked people, an 1 — an' when they wus around him, he used ter grow till he looked like a great big giant ; but if the people around him wus good, he used ter shrink until he warn't no bigger nor nuthin'. Belle. Was he a great big giant when the man lived in the cottage ? Uncle N. Yes ; for the man who lived there before him was wicked. This made the specter so large that he drove the man away. But the collier was good, ye see, an' — an' so the specter shrunk, an' shrunk, until he warn't no bigger nor you are ; an' he shrunk, an' shrunk, until he warn't no bigger nor a pea ; an' at last he shrunk away altogether. Belle. And did he ever come back ? Uncle N. No ; he couldn't, ye see, for the collier was good. But he left his presence there, in the shape of a gentle light, an 1 — an' sweet strains of music, that wus soft an 1 low, an' pleasant ter hear. This made the old collier so happy, that he used to call this presence his " house spirit." Belle. Do you have such a spirit, grandpa ? Uncle N. I — I cakerlate that everybody who is good has sech a spirit, Belle. Belle. Was you always good, grandpa ? Uncle N. Wa'all, I — I try ter be, Belle, I try ter be. I may fall short once in a while ; but I try ter be good. Haven't I been good ter you, Belle ? Belle. Oh, yes, indeed you have; and you love me, too, don't you ? Uncle N. Yes, Belle ; I've loved ye for ten years, goin' on. You see, ,Quincy, your father, is dead, an' — an' your mother is dead,, so I haven't any other children but you to love. PLACER GOLD. 29 Belle. You have Uncle Ned ? Uncle N. Nuthin' certain about him, Belle, nuthin 1 certain at all. He may be alive, or he may be dead, the Lord only knows. I know I still pray for him, an 1 if there's any vartue in prayer, hell come back sometime, Belle — he'll come back sometime. Belle. Grandma don't think he will ; but Gipsy does. Uncle N. Yes ; Gipsy still looks for him. Lord bless ye, I guess she does. But he don't desarve her — don't desarve her in the least. There ! run in now, while I talk with Mike. I see him coming up the walk, an' it may be Crosby that sent him. Belle {jumping tip and throwing her ar?ns aroimd his neck). I don't like Grandpa Crosby one bit. He is cross and says hateful things to me, and once he boxed my ears and called me a brat. You don't do that, do you ? Now let me kiss you. (Kisses him ^ then ?-uns to door.) Good- by, grandpa. (Throws kiss at him, then runs into house.) Uncle N. (laughing). Lord bless her! Wa'all, if a purson ain't appreciated in this world, it's purty apt ter be his own fault — his own fault. (Enter Mike, c.) Good mornin', Mike. Mike. Mornin' to yourself, your honor, and to the house. May I ask if your riverence is in comfortable health ? Uncle N. Nuthin' ter brag on, Mike, nuthin' ter brag on. Er — er — is Crosby purty well ? Mike. Is he well ? Begorra ! he's ugly as the divil, and twice as disagreeable. Loike a thistle, the older he grows the more he shows his bad points ; an' he has enough ov 'em, I kin tell yeez. Uncle N. Soured — soured, I guess; an' the loss of his darter don't sweeten him any. H-hard on Gip, though, mighty hard. Mike. Och ! niver yeez fear for Gip. It's a fire she has in her eye, an' a tornado in her bosom, an' when she becomes angry, by the Holy St. Patrick ! the ould gintleman has to dance to her fiddling, or may I turn into a ghost. Don't yeez have no fears for Gip. Uncle N. It maybe — it maybe. She can hold her own, I guess; an' — an' you seem to. Mike. Oh, yiss, your honor; I'm tough. I'm loike an 30 PLACER GOLD. ould iron target. I've been battered so much that I have no scars, and don't moind being shot at. Shtill, and it's mesilf that's ashamed to own it, I am battered in a direction that makes me wilt complaytely. Uncle N. H-hey ? Battered in another direction ? Mike. Yiss, your rivirence, and badly, too. Be aisy now, and I'll be afther giving yeez a bit ov advice. If yeez iver become single, don't marry a girl in her 'teens, or out ov your own nationality. Begorra ! if ye do, yeez will wish ye had niver made the mistake ov being born. I do already. Uncle N. W-w- what's that ! Your marriage with Ma- tilda a failure ? I didn't mistrust it. Mike. Arrah ! it's because yeez are not posted. I thry to kape up appearances ; but it's moity hard work, I kin tell yeez. The shmile on a man's face is often a mantle to the frown that rankles in his bosom ; an' — I apply that to me own case. Now this gold excitement — . Och ! and have yeez heard about thim foinding gold in Rocky Run ? Uncle N. {excited). W- w- what's that ! Gold in Rocky Run ? Gold in my pasture ? Mike. The identical same, your honor. The whole ov New England has got the gold faver worse thin Californy, and ivery mither's son is out wid a tin pan a-washin' for it. Well, last week, two men what they call pros — pec — tus, sthruck the color over in Crosby's lot, and yisterday they made a big foind in the sthream that crosses your own land. Uncle N. Y-y-you don't mean it! you don't mean it! By John Rogers ! you don't mean it ! Mike. Arrah ! it's a fact, your honor. I saw it wid my own two blissed eyes, in the bottle where they kept it secrayted. Uncle N. A-a-and it wus gold — real gold ? Mike. It was that, and as bright as a dandelion blossom. They will be afther calling upon ye to-day ; an 1 it's meself would loike Joe to help sarch the shtream more complaytely, if yeez don't moind sparing him for the toime being. Uncle N. You kin have him — you kin have him. D-d-drat it ! kin they have found gold on my land ? I — I — I can't believe it. Mike. Well, I heard thim say it, your honor, and thin there was the samples in the bottle. But I've got oft" from PLACER GOLD. 3 1 me subject entoirly. This gold excitement, as I started to say, raised the divil with Matilda complaytely. Nothing would do but I must dig the whole counthry over, and all for a mine, that — begorra ! kin only exist in her own divil- ish imagination. Uncle N. A-a-and have you ever found any gold, Michael ? Mike. Niver a speck, your honor. Shure it's meself wishes I had in order to kape pace in the family. For now it's "Moike" here, and " Moike" there and "Moike, I must have money," and " Moike, if yeez was as smart as other men," and — Begorra! here she comes now. Look at her! {Points off c.) Every dollar I kin rake an' shcrape put upon her back to make her look foine. {Goes l. i e.) Och ! but I shall cotch it now. Matilda {enters c, whistling. Perceives Mike). Yo # u here, are you ? Didn't I tell you I must have ten dollars ? Is this the way you are trying to earn it ? Mike. Shure I intend — Matilda. Intend! intend! you always intend. {To Nathan.) Oh, Mr. Bardwell ! he's the laziest good for nothing you ever saw. Uncle N. Wa'all — er — er — I've known him — Matilda. Yes, you've known him ; but you don't know his peculiarities as I do. Why, he makes a perfect drudge of me. I actually have had to wash my own dishes for the past six weeks. Mike. Begorra ! yeez have kept me digging for gold — Matilda. Shut up ! I will do the talking myself. If you've been digging for gold, where is it ? Show me a sample ? Other men find gold, and give it to their wives. Where is yours ? Mike. Shure I — Matilda. Oh, don't go to making excuses. I know the reason — you don't try. Other men hunt for it while you lie around in the sun and doze. That's all your good for. Mr. Bardwell, what would you do with such a lazy lout of a husband if you were in my place ? Uncle N. B-b-by John Rogers! I'd respect him. I — I — Matilda. Respect him ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! respect such a 32 PLACER GOLD. thing as he is. Just look at him, now. {Goes L. Takes Mike by the ear and leads him front.') Isn't he a picture in a frame ? Look at that attitude ? Isn't it graceful ? {Throwing him off.} Oh, you wretch! IVe no patience with you. Uncle N. {getting angry'). B-blast it ! man, assert your rights — assert your rights ! Mike. Shure I — Matilda {stamping her f Oof). Don't you speak. Ha! ha ! ha ! assert his rights ! I should just like to have him try it. Just let him try it. Mike. Jhust one word if you plaze — Matilda. Shut up! I tell you. Start your boots to work. What are you doing here anyway ? Mike. Afther Joe, mam. • Matilda. A pretty excuse. ( Points off c. ) You march ! do you hear ? Mike {going). Yiss — yiss, mam. I'm traveling. {Goes offc.) Matilda. I'll settle with you when we arrive at the house. Oh, Mr. Bardwell, he tries me so, I have no patience with him. Sometimes I wish I might die, and then I should be at peace. {Exit c, scolding.) Uncle N. {to himself excitedly). I — I should want you to — I should want you to. B-blast it! if you was my wife, I — I — I — I — Well, I wouldn't have sech a wife — I wouldn't have sech a wife. {Calling.) Maria! Maria! Mrs. B. {opening door) . Well, Nathan. Uncle N. They've struck gold in Rocky Run. What d'yer think of it ! What d'yer think of it, Maria ? Mrs. B. Don't be deceived, Nathan. My advice is to be careful. Uncle N. Oh, I — I'll be careful. Can't see no harm, in findin' gold, blest if I can. W-w-why, if reports are true, they are findin' it all around us — all around us, Maria. Mrs. B. The reports may be exaggerated. Uncle N. They may be. It's best ter be careful — I admit that ; but if there's gold in the gulch, we are rich, Maria, rich as Jews. Mrs. B. I am contented as it is. Don't get excited, Nathan, until you have some reason. PLACER GOLD. 33 Uncle N. No ; Fll be calm. B-b-blast it ! I'm always calm, Maria. But the gold — er — er — Mike has seen it — seen it in the bottle. Mrs. B. Well, let us wait for the result. {Looking off C.) Crosby and two strangers are coming up the lane. You know how that man figures for your farm, so don't get caught in any scheme. Uncle N. Oh, Til be careful, I tell ye. Don't be afeared. I'll handle 'em as I would a pair o' hot tongs — hot tongs, Maria. Mrs. B. If you will, we shall have nothing to fear. {Exit into hoiise.) {Enter Crosby, Mayhew and Blynn, c.) Crosby {rubbing his hands). Good morning, Nathan. Allow me to introduce Charles Mayhew and Richard Blynn, assayers and prospectors. Gentlemen, Mr. Nathan Bardwell. {All bow, etc.) Blynn. Happy to meet you, Mr. Bardwell. Mayhew. Which pleasure also affords gratification to myself. Uncle N. {suspiciously) . I — I — I suppose so — I suppose so. Er — er — help yourselves ter some seats, gentlemen. {All seat themselves but Crosby.) Blynn. I have the pleasure, Mr. Bardwell, of informing you of the discovery of placer gold in Rocky Run, as well as some rare specimens taken from the adjacent rocks ; nearly all of which, as Mr. Crosby informs me, were found within the precincts of your own land. Crosby {rubbing his hands together). Gold, Nathan, gold. Rich, red and radiant gold. There it lies, sparkling among the pebbles of the brook; your brook and mine, Nathan. There it lies, hidden away, waiting for eager hands to gather in. Think of it, Nathan. Blynn. We have samples with us just as they were taken from the brook. From indications, there must be a rich pocket, or deposit, somewhere in the immediate vicinity. We are certain of this, though the locality has not quite been determined. Crosby. Show him the gold. Show him the samples in the bottle. (Mayhew hands bottle of samples to Nathan.) Look at it, Nathan. How it glimmers, glitters, sparkles in 34 PLACER GOLD. the sun ! How radiant, beautiful it looks ! Ha ! don't it make you feel young again ? Don't it make your fingers tingle and your heart burn ? It is yours — yours, Nathan. The samples were found on your land, and are yours. Mayhew. So far as I can learn, we have made the richest find in New England. Of course this is confidential. The samples already found, at a rough estimate, are worth, at least, two hundred dollars. Uncle N. Y-y-you don't mean it ! you don't mean it ! Crosby. We do, Nathan ; and all of it, every mill, and fractional part of a mill belongs to you. Blynn. Recollecting, of course, that we claim a nominal per cent as the discoverers. Uncle N. B-b-by John Rogers ! if you've found gold on my land, you shall be paid for it — well paid for it, I say. Crosby. I told them so. I knew you would do your duty by them. It's worth remunerating — eh ! Nathan ? Mayhew. It is not so much the remuneration we ask for, as it is to come to some understanding. Of course our proposition would be, to purchase the land outright. This, Mr. Crosby informs me, cannot be done. Uncle N. No sir — no sir. You couldn't buy my farm if you should kiver every foot of it with bank bills. It's a home farm, sir. A farm on which I was born, an' on which the father afore me was born. I love the old farm, sir ; an' — an' I intend ter keep it. Crosby. I told them so, Nathan. Blynn. Realizing this fact, Mr. Mayhew and myself have come before you with a proposition. We are confident that a rich deposit of gold is hidden in Rocky Run. We have proof of this from the samples in the bottle. Now — Uncle N. The proposition — give me the proposition. Blynn. Mr. Mayhew, repeat the proposition as ar- ranged between ourselves. Mayhew. It is this. You and Mr. Crosby advance five thousand dollars, and Mr. Blynn and myself will put in the proper machinery, and work the claim for twenty per cent of the gross receipts. The agreement is already drawn up, and to which Mr. Crosby has affixed his signature. Understand me, we make this extraordinary offer on account of our inability to purchase the land. Were this possible, and with PLACER GOLD. 35 our confidence in the richness of the find, we would prefer to pay for all rights and privileges and work the claim on our own responsibility. Uncle N. But, Lord bless ye, w-w-where's the money ? Kin I perform a miricle like the prophets ? I haven't a dollar in cash ter my name. Crosby. I'll advance the money, Nathan. Uncle N. W-w- what's that ter me ? What's that ter me ? Crosby. Ahem! I'll explain. {Takes papers from his pocket. ) Here are documents — legal documents — docu- ments officially made out and witnessed. Here is the agree- ment with my name attached. Read it, Nathan. {Hands him agreement.} Here is another document — a note — payable in one year. {Hands him note.} Affix your name to that, and I'll advance the money, Nathan. Uncle N. Where's your security ? Y-y-you want secur- ity, don't ye ? Crosby. Oh, the farm will be the security. It is one of the conditions of the note. See ? Sign the note, Nathan, and I'll risk the security. Uncle N. {throwing him back the papers'). N-n-no — no. I'll not do it. By John Rogers ! I'll not do it. I've been there before. I'll see you hanged fust ! I'll not do it, I say. Blynn. My dear sir, do you imagine that you are assuming a risk ? Uncle N. Don't I risk my farm ? D-d-don't I risk it, I say ? Crosby. But the gold, Nathan. Ah ! think of the gold. Uncle N. D-d-dog gone it ! how do I know there is any gold ! Have I seen it dug ? Have I any proofs of it beyond your own words ? Mayhew. Mr. Bardwell is right. You, Mr. Crosby, have looked the matter over. He must do the same. First, what is the private value of your farm ? Uncle N. I don't value it, sir ; it's beyond value. Crosby. The appraisal is five thousand dollars. I have offered him seven within a year. Mayhew. Very good. So confident am I of a fortune in Rocky Run, that, if you will deed me your farm, with all 7,6 PLACER GOLD. rights and privileges, I will pay you ten thousand dollars for it before the sun shall set. Uncle N. (jumping up, excited) . W-w-what ! Ten thousand dollars for my farm ! You kin have it ! (Recollect- ing hii7is elf *.) N-n-n-n-;/< female char- By' A S( WALTER H. BAKER & 00., Publishers, Boston, Mass. P. O. Box 2846. GEORGE M. BAKER'S PLAYS. Price 15 cent s, unless ot herwise stated. y.? RARY 0F CONGRESS Drama in two Drama in ABOVE THE CLOUDS. acts. 7 males, 4 females. AMONG THE BREAKERS two acts. 6 males, 4 females. BETTER THAN GOLD. Drama in four acts. 5 males, 4 females. 25 Cent8. BON-BONS. Musical entertainment. 3 males, 1 female. 25 Cents. BOSTON DIP, THE. Comedietta in one act. 4 males, 3 females. BREAD ON THE WATERS. Drama in two acts. 5 males, 3 females. CAPULETTA. Burlesque in two parts. 3 males, 1 female. CHAMPION OF HER SEX, THE. Farce in one act. 8 females. CHRISTMAS CAROL, A. Christmas en. tertainment from Dickens. Many char. CLOSE SHAVE, A. Farce in one act. 6 males. COALS OF FIRE. Farce in one act. 6 males. COMRADES. Drama in three acts. 4 males, 3 females. 25 cents. DOWN BY THE SEA. Drama in two acts. 6 males, 3 females. BROP TOO MUCH, A. Farce in one act. 4 males, 2 females. DUCHESS OF DUBLIN. THE. Farce in one act. 6 males, 4 females. ENLISTED FOR THE WAR. Drama in three acts. 7 males, 3 females. FAIRY OF THE FOUNTAIN, THE. Play for children in two acts. 10 char. 25c. FLOWER OF. THE FAMILY, THE. Comedy-drama in three acts, 5 males. 3 fem. FLOWING BOWL, THE. Drama in three acts. 7 males, 3 females. 25 cents. FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. Farce in one act. 8 males. GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY. Farce in one act. 12 males. GREAT ELIXIR, THE. Farce in on« act. 9 males. GREATEST PLAGUE IN LIFE, THE. Farce in one act. 8 females. GRECIAN BEND, THE. Farce in one act. 7 females. HUMORS OF THE STRIKE, THE. _ Fa rce in one act. 8 mal es. HYPOCHONDRIAC, THE. Farce in one act. * males. LAST LOAF, THE. Drama in two acts. «> males, 3 females. XIGHTHEART'S PILGRIMAGE. Alle- gory for schools. 8 females and chorus. LITTLE BROWN JUG, THE. Drama in three acts. 5 males, 3 females. LITTLE MORE CIDER, A. Farce in one act. 5 males, 3 females. LOVE OF A BONNET, A. Farce in one act. 5 females. MAN WITH THE DEMIJOHN, THE. Farce in one act. 4 males. MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. Drama in three acts. 5 males, 3 females. MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE, A. Farce in one act. 4 males. MY UNCLE THE CAPTAIN. Farce in one act. 6 males. NEVER SAY DIE. Farce in one act. 3 males, 3 females. NEVADA. Drama in three acts. 8 males, 3 females. . 25 cents. "13 NO fen ONC 4" ONI in °ui _. _ 016 103 651 1 - OUR' FOLKS. Drama in three acts. 6maies, 5 females. PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE. Farce m one act. 7 males, 3 females. PAST REDEMPTION. Drama in four acts, o males, 4 females. 25 cents. PEDLAR OF VERYNICE, THE. Bur- lcsque. 7 males. PRECIOUS PICKLE, A. Farce in one act. 6 females. PUBLIC BENEFACTOR, A. Farce in one act. 6 males. REBECCA'S TRIUMPH. Drama in three acts. 16 females. 25 cents. RED CHIGNON, THE. Farce in one act. 6 females. _ REVOLT OF THE BEES, THE.*Mu- sical allegory. 9 fem ales. RUNAWAYS, THE. Farce in one act. 4 males. SANTA CLAUS' FR0LIC8. Christmas. tree entertainment. Many char. SCULPTOR'S TRIUMPH, THE. Alle. gory. 1 male, ^females. SEA OF TROUBLES, A. Farce in one act. 8 males. 8EEING THE ELEPHANT. Temper- ance farce. 5 males, 2 females. SEVEN AGES, THE. Tableau entertain- ment. 7 males, 4 females. SHALL OUR MOTHERS VOTE? Hu- morous debate for n boys. SNOW BOUND. Musical and dramatic en- tertainment. 3 males, 1 fomale. 25 Cents. STAND BY THE FLAG. Drama in one act. 5 males. SILVIA'S SOLDIER. Drama in one act Drama in two acts. 3 males, 2 females. TEMPTER, THE. malesji female. TENDER ATTACHMENT, A. Farce « one act. 7 males. THIEF OF TIME, THE. Farce in one act. J) males. THIRTY MINUTES FOR REFRESH ments. Farce in one act. 4 males, 3 fem. THORN AMONG THE ROSES, A. Com. edy in one act. 2 males, 8 females. TITANIA. Play for children in two acts. Many char. 25 cents. TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. Dialogue for 2 males, introducing songs and recitations. TOURNAMENT OF IDYLWENT, THE. Allegory for 13 females. VISIONS OF FREEDOM. Allegory for 16 females. USING THE WEED, farce in one act. 7 females. WANTED, A MALE COOK. Farce in one act. 4 males. WAR OF TFE ROSES. Allegory for 3 females. WE'RE ALL TEETOTALERS. Farce la one scene. 4 males, 2 females. WALTER H. BAKER, & CO.* (P.O.Box awe), Boston, Mass. ^KMiLl ft CO., FRINTtftS, 222 FKANKLIN tT., ••■TftN.