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ANGELINA. Pray be seated, G. A.-S. -SnIvEN. Shall w star have the audacity to be seated, while the sun is standing ? CHarues. (Aside.) I thought Angy was a daughter. Sniven. . (Walking up to the desk.) You, are still engaged, I perceive, in literary labors. You will allow me: the _ privi- lege, asa brother author, of. looking at your gems. (Zumbdles umong the papers, and picks up a manuscript.) What!.Surely you can not‘have written:this!. And.yet it has your nom de plume, Hettie Heatherbell.’ What) rhymthical grace! What exquisite expression! What.a delicacy of inward soulfulness! I must read a verse aloud : The breeze did blow, the sun did shine, When you did: hold my hand in thine, And we did walk upon the brine! _ The bells will ring to-morrow! If I did not know that this is original, I would say. that. you had borrowed from Byron the idea of walking, on the brine. How sweetly chimes in the chorus, that the bells. will ring to-morrow !.. Who. can; say whether ;they will be wedding bells, or funeral knells? The heart that. felt, and the mind that conceived that. verse, could never descend to earthly and gross realities. Cares. °(Aside:) Except; when she sits down to dinner, and then you ought to.see her pitch into..the cold pork and pickles ! Anernina. I fear that» your: judgment. is too. partial, ~ Ge AWS. : Sniven. (Fumbling again on the table.) By no means, un- BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. less it may be the partiality of congenial souls. You must let me take this gem of yours, Miss Angelina, and I promise you that it shall have such a setting»as it deserves. Curarues. (Aside.) A setting down, I guess. SniveN. You must pardon me if I hasten my departure. I have an idea, and must fix it upon paper. Adieu, Miss Hettie Angelina Seraphina Heatherbell. Forgive my abrupt- ness, Mr.—a—brother of Hettie. My inspiration allows nc delay. (Heit Sniven, hastily:) ANGELINA. What an eccentric genius he is! How absent- minded! Something—was it a presentiment, or the inward apprehensiveness of my nature? told)me that I was shortly to meet a being who could appreciate my soul’s impulses. I am sorry that his inspiration carried him off so suddenly, but such is the fate of genius. He little knows what he, carnies with him ! CHARLES. (Aside.) Something that: don’t belong to Lim, T guess. ANGELINA. (Yawning, and stretching her arms.) It re ally must be near dinner-time.' Don’t you think so, Charles ? OnartEs. I don’t’ know, Angy. I can’t descend to tha’ dull and sublunary reality, until the dinner-bell rings. ANGELINA. Let me see what o’clock it is. (Humblex among the papers.) Where is my watch? Good heavens! It is gone! CuaRLESs. Perhaps it has become etherealized, Sis, and has melted away in a poet’s dream. AneeLina. Do not trifle with me, a Have -you seen my watch ? CHaRLEs. If you want to know the ttith, Angy, I must say that I saw that chap, who was here afew moments ago, pick it up from your table, and stuff it in. his pocket, just be- fore he left here in such a hurry. ANGELINA. You saw that, and you suffered him to take it ? Cares. I saw that he appreciated you and your gems (particularly the gems.) I could not be supposed to know the difference betweeu appreciation and appropriation, and I thought that a fellow who had no poetical sense ought not to interfere. BEHIND THE CURTAIN, 838 dwertma. (Sobbing.) My watch! My: dear little watch | My mother’s gift! To think that I should have been. so im- posed upon ! CHARLES. (Rising, and advancing to her.) Don't.,take on about it, Angy, for your watch is safe, and it will be returned to you. That gentleman, I am happy to say, is, not Gustavus Adolphus Sniven, and there is no G. A. 8. about him. He is only Bob Long, with whom I was going on a fishing excur- sion, if I could have got an early dinner; and we might have had an early dinner, if you had thought less of poetry, and more ol potatoes. ANGELINA. I ask your pardon, brother, for spoiling your day’s sport, but I can not help it now. Cuarues. Do you know what we are going to have for dinner, Angy? I can tell you, for I bought the marketing myself. . Among other things, we will have roast. chicken and lobster salad. AnoExina. You dear, good brother! I will go down, tight away, and hurry up dinner. (Hatt Angelina.) Cuartes. Better late than never, as you (turning to the audience) will probably say, when this play is finished. (Ourtain Falls.) BEHIND THE CURTAIN. CHARACTERS, Mr. Earraty Bu1ss:° Mrs. Earrarty Buss. Mr. Witu1am Buss, their son, aged twenty-one. Miss Smrapuina Buss, their daughter, aged nineteen. Master Daniet WEBSTER, shetrictanl Masten HENRY Cray, t ir twin sons, aged twelve. CeLEsTIA ANGELICA, their youngest child, aged etght. Mr. Sarr, @ visitor near the age of forty-five. Place, Mrs. Butss’s parlor, Mrs. Burss seated in a chair, busy with some light sewing-work. Hnier Mr. ai with Mr SMITH. BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGURS. Mr. Buiss. My old friend Mr. Smith; Mrs. Bliss, Mrs. Briss, (offering her hand.) Iam happy to see you, Mr Smith. I have heard my husband speak of you so often; that you seem already like a familiar friend, and I have long wished for the pleasure of a personal acquaintance. Pray be seated. . 1 think you will find this chair the most attractive one. (She offers the easy-chatr.) Mr. Sin, (seating himself.) Thank yon. It is not every ludy who has so cordial a greeting for the friends of her husband’s bachelor days. Mrs. Buss. I can not speak for other ladies. For my- self, Mr. Bliss’s friends seem as near to me as my own. ~ In- deed, I may say, that I plate greater confidence in them, from the fact that my husband’s judgment of character is so far superior to mine. ~ E Mr. Suir.’ Indeed, madam, it is not every lady wha cherishes so amiable fecling. Mr. Buss. (Jocosély.) It is not every lady that has so in- dulgent a husband to keep her amiable. Mrs. Bliss, where are our children? Our children are our treasure, Mr. Smith. It may not be my place to boast, but I fancy that I seldom see a more promising family then my own. (Hnter SeRa- putna.) Ah! here comes our eldest. My daughter, Mr. Smith. Mr. Saurrn. So tall? Is it possible! Mr. Burss. She is her mother’s main dependence. SERAPHINA. (Simpering.) Oh, pal Mrs. Briss. Yes; I already lean on Seraphina. I often say to my husband, “ Mr. Bliss, what should I do if I had not a good daughter to rely upon ?” a Sk.APHINA, (Simpertng.) Oh, ma! Mr. Smita. You need not. blush, my dear young lady. There is nothing more beautiful in youth, than that. spirit. of filii} piety which ledds you to scek to relieve the burden of your parents’ care.. No doubt, you will receive your full re- ward in being regarded as the light and joy of the household. Sprarnina. (Continuing to simper.) Oh, sir! I feel s0 ‘hnsignificant. (Enter WILLIAM.) Mr. Buiss. And here is my main dependence. My eldest BEHIND TIE CURTAIN. 2h son, William, Mr. Smith. (They shake hands.) He is in the office with me, and renders much assistance in my business. WituiAmM. Not so much as I hope to do. I tell father he must expect me to be verdant at first. Mr. Smrrxe. ‘Experience is a very necessary teacher. rill, T do not doubt you are already a great comfort to your father. No other person, however well-meaning and friendly, would evince so warm-hearted an interest in his prosperity, or so deep sympathy with his feelings, as he will find in a son. Mrs. Burss. No indeed. I.often say to Mr. Bliss, what a blessing it is, that he can have William with him! (A noise without.) Mr. Buiiss. Hark! what is that ? Mrs. Buss. That must be the boys coming in from school. Seraphina, please go out— Mr. Burss, (Interrupting.) And tell them to come in. 1 wish that Mr. Smith should see them. ‘(Zeit SERAPHINA.) Mrs. Buss. I don’t know what we should do without the boys. - They are the life of the household. Mr. Briss. “A little noisy, like all boys, but of that I don’t complain. The twins are good boys—so affectionate and obedient, and fond of their books. Daniel Webster won the first prize for elocution, the last quarter of his school, and his teacher assures me, that he has had no pupils who were superior to Henry Clay in arithmetic. I named them, as you observe, for our country’s greatest statesmen, I think, to bear the name of the illustrious departed has sometimes a stimu- lative effect upon the character. Ah! here they come. (Hnter DaniEL WEBSTER and Henry Cay, accompanied by a large dog.) This is Daniel Webster, Mr. Smith, and this is Henry Clay. (The boys shake hands ae Mr. Smitn.) Mrs. Briss, (Lifting the hair, from DanreL WexstTER’s forekcad.) I do not think they beara strong resemblance to each other. Daniel Webster is said’to'look like me. Do you see the likeness, Mr. Smith ? Mr. Smiru. It is nota striking one. Still, there are some points in which you resemble each other. (Turning to HENRY Cuay.) Your mother says you are much interested in your studies. I suppose you enjoy your school greatly ? 26 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. Hisar (LAY. Yes, sir; very much. Dan Wenster. Oh, yes, sir; J do. Mr. Smrva. Iam glad to hear it. Youth is properly called the seed-time of life. What you learn now, you will never forget. It will be of incalculable advantage to you here- after. Mr Butss. Yon have now. seen all my little family except eur youngest, who. is the pet and darling of the whole, I don’t know what we sieuld do without her. Wife, can’t we have Celestia brought in? Mrs. Butss. Seraphina, please go and— A VOICE AT THE Door. Mother! Mrs. Buss. What is it, my precious? Voice. . Mother! I want a piece of cake! Mrs. Buss. Come in, dear; come in. Mr. Smith will pardon your pinafore, I am sure. (Celestia comes in and goes to her mother.) This is our little birdling, Mr. Smita. I am sometimes afraid we shall make her our idol. Mr. Sarre. (Patting her curls.) ‘Come to me, my dear. Will you not come to me? Iam very fond of children—that is, of good children. You are a good little girl, are you not, Celestia? (CELESTIA nods her head.) Mrs. Buss... Yes; Celestia, as a 1ule, is a very obedient, well-behaved child. Can’t you tell Mr. Smith, dear, the verses ‘you learnt yesterday? (CmLEsria shakes her head.) Mrs. Buiss. She is so timid, Mr. Smith. Now, my pre- cious one, do; please; that’s mother’s own, nix, little girl. CeELEsTIA, (Reciting.) ** Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For thus they mostly do, Let bears and lions growl and fight, For ’tis their nature too. “ But children, you should never let Your angry passions rise, Your little hands were never meant To tear each others’ eyes. “ Birds in their little nests agree, ~ And "tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out and scold and Aght.” BEHIND THER CURTAIN. 27 Mrs. Briss. That’s right, darling. And now, sing to Mr. Smith your home song, “ Sweet Home.” . (CELESTIA shakes her heaa, and puts her finger in her mouth.) Mrs. Buss. She’s so timid, Mr. Smith. Now, do, dear. What will Mr. Smith think of you, if you won’t do as mother says? Sister Seraphina will start the tune for you, and you nust join in. That’s mother’s own lamb. (SERAPHINA commences and CELESTIA joins in singing.) “Mid pleasures and palaces thongh I may roam, Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home ; Sweet home, sweet home, etc., etc.” Mr. Smitu. (Rising.) I don’t wonder you can sing “Sweet Home,” so beautifully, Iam sure, when you have such a charming one of your own to inspire you. Mrs. Buiss. Don’t rise, I pray you, Mr. Smith. Mr. Buss. What, going? Can't you sit longer? So brief a stay is only. tantalizing. Mr. Smita. I would gladly remain, but I have a business engagement that calls me elsewhere. Good-by, Mrs Biiss. (Shakes hands.) If any thing makes me regret being an old bachelor, it is, looking in upon a happy family-circle like yours, and realizing the force of the poet’s words: Domestic happiness! the only bliss Of Eden, that survives the fall!’’ Good-by, Mr. Bliss. (Shakes hands.) I would be delighted to see you in New York. Good-by, Mr. William... (Shakes hands.) I wish for you the same success in life that has at- teaded your father, and I can not but trust you will attain it. Gvod-by, Miss Seraphina. (Shakes hands.) .1 shall long cherish the memory of your face and of your song. . (He shakes hands with the twins, and kisses little Celestia.) Mr. Buss, You must come,again,Mr. Smith. . It has been ® rare pleasure to see you at this time. Mr. Smrra,, Thank you, thank you. I shall hope to do so. (Mx. Surv bows himself out.) (Curtain falls, and behind it, are heard the voices of the family. The actors must take care to speak much louder than when the curtain 18 wp:) SxrapHina. Well, he’s gone at last J thought he never 28 BEADLE'’S DIME. DIALOGUES. would go. If he hadn’t come, I was intending to, go down street. WiuuiaM. Spinning street-yarn! I should think you had better stay at home and help your mother, Seraphina. SERAPHINA. Yes, si, I think yow had better help father in the office, instead of spending your time playing Dil- liards and driving fast horses, as you haye done all this week. Mr. Buss. True enough, right enough; and who do you expect to foot your bills? such bills for you, William Biiss, who never earned one dollar for your own support. You may rest assured, your father will not be held accountable. Mrs. Buss, (Speaking at the same time.) Celestia Angelica, what do you mean by meddling with my work-box? If you jo so again, I will give you a good whipping that you will remember. You are a naughty, troublesome, mischievous, provoking little girl! CEeLEstTia. (Sobbing.) You are a hateful old mother! Danie WrEBsTER. Henry Clay, where are those marbles you hooked -from me this morning? Henry Cray. I didn’t. DANIEL WEBSTER. You did. Henry Cray. I didn’t. DaNiEL WEBSTER. I say you did. Henry Cuay. TI say you lie. DanmeL Wepster. Say that again, and T'll break your head for you. : Henry Cray. Come on, you coward: DANIEL WEBSTER. I ain’t afraid. (They fight.) Henry Cuay. Oh! oh! oh! mother! ~Dan. Webster has pulled all the hair out of my head! Mr. Buiss. Boys! Stop that racket instantly, or I will punish you within an.inch of your lives. ‘(He boxes the ears of both boys, who scream loudly.) Cetxest1A. “Oh! oh! oh! Father has stepped on my foot! (At the same time the ery of Bow! wow! is heard from the dog, and. of Mew! mew! from the cat.) Mrs. Briss... Hush! hush! hush! somebody’s coming! (Curtain here rises, while the family are seen running from che stage in all. directions, and. Mrs. Buss 7 left. alone to recetos THE “ ETA’ PY SOCIETY.” 20 Mr. Smrru, who ts ushered in by the servant in great’ em- barrassment.) Mr. Smrrg. Mrs. Bliss, I fear I intrude—pray excuse me —-but I carelessly left a book upon your table’ (Mrs. Briss picks it up from the floor, where it has fallen, having been drawn off with the table-cloth, and hands it to Mr. Surrn.) Mrs. Briss. Is this it? I fear you found’ us very noisy, M:. Smith, but the children were enjoying a game of romp, and it seems so much better to have them happy at home, than for them to be playing out in the street. (Curtain falls.) THE “ETA PI SOCIETY” CHARACTERS : Prrcy Jonnson, a good scholar CHARLIE Scorr, a smart boy. Wurm Wrirs, a small boy. Groren LEE, Henry Rocers, Mr. Hunvrer, teacher. Scrnz—The Playroom of the Linden Grammar-school. Present—Scortr, Rogers, Ler, and Wuirn. Rocers. I say, boys, what did Johnson want us all to stop for, to-night ? Scorr. Oh, most likely he has found some yard-and-a-half- long example in “ Partial Payments,” which he thinks’ will be very interesting for us all to try this evening. Be sure you all have your slates and pencils ready. Nocers. I’m off, then. I thought there was some fun on hand. t classmates of Johnson. (Enter Percy Jonnson.) Percy. Don’t go yet, Henry; there is some fun on hand: What do you say, boys, to forming a Society among ourselves, a secret soctety ? Scorr. I’m in for-it. Rogers AND Leg. So am I. Wim Waits. What isa secret society ? La. Why, don’t you know ? they all wear badges, a BEADLE'S DIME DIALOGUES. Rogers. Yes, and they have secret signs that nobody else understands, like the Free-Masons, and they never tell any body their secrets. Scorr. Good reason why; they don’t know any. Leg. Oh, they do. My father is a Free-Mason, and he al- ways looks as if he knew something. Scorr. That must be where his son gets his brilliant expres- sion. Lee. Ill give you a “ brilliant expression,” Charlie Scott, if you don’t hold up. Jonson. Come, come, boys; we haven't any time for that sort of play. If you're in favor of having a society, the first thing to do is to organize.. Wuirrt. Shall we have badges, Percy ? Jonson. ‘Yes; pins,I think, with the initials of the society engraved on them. Scorr. Will yuu have the kindness to inform your humble scrvant what the initials of the society might be? Jounson. Well, [suppose we ought to choose a name for the society ; and the fun is in having a name that will not denote the character of the society ; and so some secret socicties, es- pecially in colleges, have taken two or three Greek letters for their names. Lex. Is that what they do it for? I always wondered. Cousin James used belong to the “ Alpha Delta Phi Society,” when he was in college. RoaeErs. But I don’ t se how we are going to have any Greek letters ; we don’t know. any thing about Greek. Jounson, (Preducing a book.) I have an old Greek gram- mar that I found at home the other day, in which all the ietters are spelled out in English. (LEE and Scorr advance and look ever the book, which PERCY opens.) Ler. But how shall we know how to pronounce them, any way ? Scorr, Oh, take some that are easy. Here's one, Pi Pi couldn’t spell any thing else. Jonnson. And here’s another, Eta. Let’s have it the “ Eta Pi Society.” Scorr. Ne; the “Pi Eta Society,” and then we shall all be pre-eaters, . Pinan THE “ETA PI SOCIETY.” ba | Jounson. I think “ Eta Pi Society” would sound bette: LEE. §o do I. Jounson. All in favor of having the society called “Tl Eta Pi Society ” may signify it by saying “ Ay.” All except Scorr, Ay! Jonnson. All opposed, by saying “ No.” Scorr. No, str/ Rocrers. Charlie wants to. be be a “pie-eater.” Lex. He’s that, safe enough, already, when he can get any pie to eat. Jounson. Now, let’s form our constitution. Wurirr. , Our what ? Jonson. Our constitution. The Society must have a con- stitution and by-laws. Scorr. I propose for a buy law, that the society buy their pie at. Brooks’s bakery. Rogers. _ Keep still, Charlie Scott. Jonnson, That motion is out of order! Will any one propose a by-law, such as socivties generally have ? Lez. My sister is president of a secret society at boarding- school, and I saw a list of their “ by-laws” once, and this was one: “Every member of the society shall introduce every other member of the society to all her gentleman friends in the city.” Jounson. Oh, fudge! That’s a girl’s secret socicty, We don’t want any such nonsense. (Enter Mr. HUNTER.) Mr. Hunter. Why, boys! MHaven’t you gone yet? It is nearly five. Wuits. We stopped to form a secret society. Scorr. Yes, sir, the “ Eta Pi Society ” has had the honor of being formed this afternoon. Mr. Hunter. You have had a hand in this, Percy, haven’t you? Jounson. Yes, sir. Do you think it very foolish ? Mr. Hunter. By no means. I think it is a very gad thing for you to start the society, and I hope you will make it - a good thing to belong to it. What do you propose to do ag a society ? Scorr. Eat a pie, sir. 82 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES, Jonnson. We have not decided yet what to do. I don’t believe we would all agree to have it entirely a literary soctety ; but_wouldn’t it be a good thing to be connected in this way, even if it is not a literary socicty ? Mr. Hunter. Very good, indeed. One of the best things about any society is the promotion and cultivation of brotherly fecling. But another and better characteristic consists in mak ing the standard of admission and membership so high, that it is really an honor to belong to it. I could wish the “Eta Pi Society” nothing better than that refinement of manners, superiority of scholarship, and integrity of morals should ever be synonymous with membership. Wuirz. I move that Mr, Hunter be our president. Scorr. I second the motion. Jonnson. The motion is made and seconded that— Mr. Hunter. Hold, boys. Not so fast. Allow me to de- cline your kindness; and, while I shall always hold myself ready to be of seryice to you, especially in the matter of organizing, I think you will enjoy your society more, and it will be better for you to depend entirely on yourselves. How often do you propose to meet? JoNuSON. Every week Roaers anpD Lez. Every week! Waurrr. I don’t believe I can come, if it’s in the evening. Scorr. Oh, he can’t go out nights; can he, poor dear! The apron-strings are not quite long enough. (He pats Wu- LIE on the shoulder.) Wurtz. Let me alone, Charlie Scott, I’m not tied to my mother’s apron-strings any more than you, only I don’t twitch them so hard ; and, besides, my mother doesn’t wear strings to her apron, she wears a hook and button, Scorr. (holding his sides.) Oh,me! Does she hook the but- ton, or button the hook ? Mr. Hunter. After the “Eta Pi Society ” is formed, I shall not expect to hear such remarks from you, Charlie. You know what I think of boys who feel too big to mind their mothers, and not big enough to despise plaguing little boys. JOHNSON. But do you think we have a nice name for our society? = Ms. Hunter. Yes The name alone means nothing; EXAMINATION DAY AT MADAME SAVANTE’S, 83 but in connection with the society, you can make it mean a great deal, Allow me to ask you to hold your next meeting at my house, a week from to-night, and meanwhile, let each draw up such “ by-laws” as he thinks would be appropriate to the society. They will all be the better for a week’s thought. And now, good-night, and a long life to the “ Eta Pi Society !" AuL. Good-night, sir! Scorr. Ne’er a pie! EXAMINATION DAY AT MADAME SAVANTE’S. Miss Maupz Mouzer, Miss ADA SINCLAIR, At study. Miss May Morton, (Znter Miss Kate Hicurty.) Miss Hignriy. Here you are, at it again! What a set of book-worms you are! I did not come here to talk about books, however, but am in search of that brilliant luminary, Miss Amanda Malvina Spriggs. Ah, see, she comes! (Hnter Miss Spriaas, Miss ARRINGDALE, Lucy LAMMERMOOR, E. PERcy.) Miss Spriaas. What's coming—any. thing forme? I say, Miss Maude Muller, what are you going to wear to the . swarry ? Mavupe Mutter. My best suit of manners, Miss Spriggs. E. Percy. Wouldn’t you like to borrow the pattern ? Miss Spriaes. No; I don’t want none of your patterns. My par is rich enough to buy my clothes ready-made. I could dress like queen Victory if I wanted to. Karte Hieuriy. Wouldn’t it be a striking likeness? There would, be danger of your being mistaken for her daughter. Miss Sprices. Idon’t want to be taken for nobody. I'mas good as anybody; so is pap. I come here because I heard only the ’stocracy comed. I didn’t keer much about it; ’twas better fun at home. Maupe Murugr. You must be lonely among so many strangers? ™ 84 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES, Miss Srricas. Not a bit of it; I’m used to secing a great many folks. I went into company all last winter-—‘salls, and swarries, circuses, and all sorts of things. I didn’t keer about coming away, but pap thought Id better take music, ant ‘rend to painting a spell, ’cause you know it’s the fashion. Miss Hianriy. I suppose then you have completed you stu lies ? Miss Spriags. Yes; geography, grammar, and such like, I done up long ago. Pap says I know enough of ’em. Miss Percy. But you have not studied mental philosophy, rhetoric, or astronomy ? Miss Sprices. Nary one of’em. I wouldn’t be bothered with em. Tm a parlor boarder. Par pays a great price for mac, Loo. (Znter MADAME.) Mapamg. Young ladies, your time for recreation has ex- pired ; you will now prepare for the recitations of the day. The Greek and Hebrew classes will not recite, as Professor Highscufflesneeski is suffering from temporary indisposition. You will hand in your Spanish, Italian, and French exercises for correction. The young ladies appointed to take charge of the laboratory will be prepared this afternoon to discuss electricity and to illustrate the subject by the operation of the galvanic battery. Miss Lammermoor, Miss Sinclair; Miss Glorianna Gaston, Miss Arianna Arringdale, will approximate. Young ladies, I presume you are prepared with your demon- strations in conic sections. I am much gratified with the’ report of your diligence, handed me by Professor Parallelo- gram. I wish you to persevere unweariedly, as the next book will be Newton's Principia. Miss Glorianna Gaston, what is that secret bond which binds together those glorious orbs that circle round in illimitable space ? Miss Gaston, “Attraction of gravitation, madame, MApAmE. Miss Arringdale, by whom was the attraction of gravitation discovered ? ARTANNA ARRINGDALE. By Newton, madame. Mapame. What do you understand by quadratic equations? Apa Srncuarr. Those involving the unknown power of the second quantity. Marame. You have great genius for transposition, Miss ene serena. Danses EXAMINATION DAY AT MADAME SAVANTE’S. 85 Sinclair. You may retire, young ladies. The class in etL noi- ogy, natural history and sciences—(Miss Muller, Miss High+ fly, Miss Percy, Miss England, Miss Morton.) ‘You will be kind enough, Miss Highfly, to designate some of the natural sciences ? Karr Hiecuriy, Let’s see _ There’s ethmology, zoonono- my, bottony, goology, mineral-water-ology, longmeterology Indeed, madame, I don’t remember any more. Mapamg. The only wonder is, Miss Highfly, that you re- member so many. You must have been spending your leis- ure hours in correcting the text-books. Miss Muller, let me see if you can vie with your friend. Can you tell me some of the general forms and arrangements of leaves ? MavupE MuLLER. Ovate, obovate, cuneate, sagittate, cor- date, peltate, pinnate and palmate, madame. Mapame, Very creditable. Miss Sprieas. Wonder why she couldn’t keep on into the twelve times eight? Don’t she know the rest of the mul- tiplication table ? MapamME, Miss England, what are the five grand divisions into which mankind is divided ? Miss Ene@uanp. Caucasian, Mongolian, American, and Americans of African descent. Mapame. Miss Morton, what are the great leading orders of fishes ? Miss Morron. Spine-rayed bony, soft-rayed bony and car- tilaginous, Mapameg, Perfectly correct, Miss Morton. Will you, Miss Percy, tefl me what the third division of the second order is denominated ? Miss Percy. The apodal, or footless division, madame. Mapame, You will take up, in review, the second volume c{ Prc‘essor Superficial’s treatise on this subject. Miss Spnggs, 7 will ask you a few questions, in order to ascertaiz to what department I shall assign you. — Miss Spriaes. I hope it will be a good roomy apartment, with a big fire in it, ma’am. Mapame. Miss Spriggs, I am accustomed to conversing with young ladies who deport themselves as such. Miss Spriaas. Well, ain't 1? I always thought I was a lady. 86 BEADIE’S DIME DIALOGUES, Mapame. JI will excuse you from further remarks. I per- ceive the preparatory will have a brilliant addition. Mave you turned your attention to geography? If so, please give me the capital city of each State. Miss Spricas. Well, if you wait till I kin give’em to you, it will have to be till I kin get pap to buy ’em for me. [ brought a silver fork and spoon, and all them things; but I didn’t think of them other consarns. MapameE, Grant me patience! In what species shall 1 class this rara avis ? Miss Spriaas. Specie’s mighty scarce now, I tell you. I don’t wonder you're puzzled. MapameE. Miss Spriggs, what is arithmetic ? Miss Sprices. ’Rithmetic! Well, I’ve heern tell of folks goin’ on tick, and clock ticking; is’t any of them kind you mean ? MapamsE. Where were you educated, or rather where were you not educated, Miss Spriggs ? Miss Sprices. You're too many for me, now. I come here to be eddicated "long with ’stocracy ; and pap said as how I'd beat the whole caboozle, and if there was any meddle to be given, I’d be sure to get it, for I was the most meddlesome gal he knowed. Mapame. No more! Spare my nerves. You may retire to your apartment. I will consider your case. Miss Spricas. I guess I am a case. Pap says I’m the hardest kind of a case, but he guessed you could squelch me. Well, good-by, ma’am, and when you want me again jist let me know. Mapame. Pity the sorrows of a preceptress! What a par- ody on the march of intellect, when capacities are supposed to be in the market; when the substitute for Pegasus is to be greenbacks, and the road to Parnassus can only be reacted by a “carriage and four !” i a TRADING IN “ TRAPS.” 87 TRADING IN “ TRAPS.” CHARLES, Come, James, trade knives! [ve just gots tip-top one, two blades, and almost new. Come, haul, ou yours, and let’s look at it. I am ready, for a bargain now. JAMES. I see you are. If you have a good, knife, why are you not satisfied to own and use it? CHARLES. Pah! that’s no way! You'd never make any thing so. If you want to get rich, you must go into busi- ness and trade with everybody. Commerce is the great civilizer. Doesn’t the geography tell us that, it is commerce that makes Great Britain so powerful? Aren’t all the rich men in the country brokers and merchants, and don’t they trade all the time? For my part, I want to be rich, and with- out working for it, too. Labor is out of the question; no gentleman would stoop to that. James. Nevermind your lecture now.. How haye you suceceded, so far? Have you made a fortur* yet ? Cartes. How provoking you are! No, a schoolboy doesn’t have capital enough to get rich in a minute; but I have made some good trades, that I know, and I mean to keep oa, James. I see that Isaac Mills has that new writing-desk your father sent you as a reward foryour penmanship, _ I sup- pose that is one of your trades. CuarLEes. Yes, and a good one, too. You see,I didn’t need the desk; the one I had at school answered every pur- pose, so I swapped with him for his skates and ball. The ball wasn’t worth much; I sold that to George for ten cents ; but the skates were the best in schvol last winter, and cost two dollars and a half. They were just as good as new, but for that crack in the right runner, James. But you didn’t need them; you had a good pair before, and besides, those were nowhere near your size. Cuarirs. No, of course not. I didn’t buy them for that ; I mean to trade and get rich. I believe I am predestinsd to be a merchant, and the sooner I go about it the better. All things must have a beginning, you know, “and now is the time,” that’s my motto. James, And so you sold the skates? 5B 88 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. CuarLes. Yes, didn’t you know? The best bargain I ever made. I gave them to John Skinner for his knife and wallet, either of which was worth more than the skates, for they were broken, you know, so as almost to spoil them. The wallet, too, was just what I wanted to keep my dime in till I spent that for cakes, when, having no more use for it, I sold it ha_k to John for a pencil-case. James. And the pencil-case ? Cartes. I sold that for a quarter yesterday, so you see I am getting money, too. This I paid toa boy to swap knives. He had one he said he found, and here it is, two good blades and a file. How will you swap for yours? James, Never mind swapping now; I want to see how much you haye made. What did your desk cost ? CmarLes. Seven dollars. Pa paid that in New York for it. James. And my knife is worth about fifty cents. I un- derstand you new; your magnificent trades mean exchanging a nice, rew rosewood writing desk, for an old, half worn pocket-knife, Crarues. How so? James. Plainly enough. You exchanged your desk for skates and a ball, which latter you ate up in the shape of a dozen cookies ; the other you gave for the knife and wailet, and the wallet for a pencil-case, which you sold for a quarter to give with your knife for another, and this you want to swup with me for mine. ‘Therefore, by clear rule, you give the writing desk for my old knife. Cuaries. Let me see; it does look so, but I can’t see how it is, for I certainly made a good bargain every time. James. There is where your fallacy lies, You are so inxious to trade that you over-value what others have, and ander-value your own things. You should have knovvn that dhe skates were broken before you traded, and then not have deen willing to lose on a wallet just to hold one dime for half aday. You must have your judgment ready to restrain your eagerness a little. Avarice without judgment defeats it- self. My advice is, that you give up fortune-making for the present, and prepare yourself in Arithmetic and Gramwar for which your father sent you here. TRADING IN “ TRAPS.” 89 Cuarues. I don’t know but I had better. Ill think of it. (Heit James and enter Mr. Grimes.) Mr. Gros. Is your name Charles Avery ? CHARLES. Yes sir. Mr. Grimes, Then you're the one I want to-see, I un- derstand you have a silver pencil-case with H. G. on it near the end. CuoartEes. No, sir, you are too late. I had it, but have sold it; trading is my business, I have a nice knife I would like to sell you, though ; anything for a trade! Mr. Grimes. None of your impudence! Youwll get into trouble, trading at this rate. The case was my Henry’s ; he knew the initials when you were showing it to the boys, and I have come for it. Caries. Impossible, sir! I traded for it with John Douglas for a wallet; he said the letters were for the maker's name. Mr, Grimes. I don’t want to hear your stories, young men! You're nicely caught this time, and you may as well own up and give back the case, or I'll take satisfaction my way! (Shaking. him.) Cmarues. Oh, sir! please don’t! I didn’t know the thing was yours. Oh! oh! Mr. Groves. Well, give it to me then. (Shaking him.) CHarues, 1 haven’t it, sir! Mr. Groms. We'll see! (Shaking him again.) (Hnter Mr. Smith.) Mr. Smirn. Lallo! what's the matter there? Unhand that boy, sir ! Mr. Grorzs. Not till he gives me my pencil-case, the young thief! I could shake him to pieces! Mr. Surrm: This is no way, at any rate. Stop, sir, and let us search his pockets; if he has any thing of yours, we shall find it. Mr. Grimes. Very well, go on. (They search.) Mr. Swira. Hallo! what’s this? my Philip’s knife, as sure as the world! and how came you by that, youngster? I have a-score to settle with you, I’seé; where did you get that, pray tell me! 40 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. CHARLES. Bought it, sir. : Mr. Smita. Bought it, did you? you need not try “ buy- ing” on me, or you'll find it won’t pay. J’U give you a shaking after Mr. Grimes gets through, if not before. Of whom did you buy it, pray ? CHaries. I don’t know. Mn. Surru. Don’t know, eh? No, TI believe you don’t! Til see if I can’t make you know, though! (Shaking him.) CHaries. Oh! oh! Please, sir! oh! Mr. Grimes. What shall we do with him? It seems a pity to let him go back and steal all the boys’ things, A few weeks in the Reform School wouldn’t hurt him. Mr. Smirn. That’s so! Let’s take him to the constable at once. (Enter Mr. Avery.) Mr. Avery. Ah, Charles! TI have been looking for you ; but stop!’ What does this mean ? Cnarues. Father, help me! Mr. Grives. “Mean?” Why it means that this young scapegrace has stolen my son’s pencil-case. He saw him have it yesterday. Mr. Samira. And my son’s knife, too! Ijust found it-in his pocket. Cuaruzs. I didn’t steal it, sir Mr. Sura. Be still! You know better. Mr. Avery. Let my boy go! If there’s any thing to pay, Pll settle it. Mr. Groves. He’s a young thief, and ought to be in the State's. prison. Mr. Avery. Silence! There’s some mistake about it; a little inquiry will explain all. Charles, where did you get that kuife ? Cnarizs, Bought it, sir. | I gaye my knife and a quarter for it. Mr. Avery. Where did you get the quarter? I have sent you no money lately. Cmarixs. I gave the pencil-case for it, that this gentle- men claims, Mr. Avery. And where did you get the case? Tell me all about it. TRADING IN “ TRAPS,” 41 CHartes. I had a pair of skates and traded them off for two things—a wallet which I gave for the pencil-case, and a knife which I swapped off for this one. Mr. Avery. And how did you come by the skates ? CuaruEs. (Hesitating.) Why—I—gave the writing desk for them. . Mr. Avery. What! That new desk I sent you last week ? CHARLES. Yes, sir. Mr. Avery. Well, you are a smart. trader to exchange a desk like that for a knife! I was going to give you a dollar for your own to-day, but I shall wait longer now till you are competent to take care of your things. (Zo Messrs, Grimes and Smith.) Come, gentlemen, let us find that Douglas boy, and perhaps you may get your case again. Charles, go to your room now, and get your lessons, Let trading alone for the present. T’ll see you again directly. CHARLES. Yes, sir. * (Haeunt gentlemen.) CHariEes. (Musing.) This playing trading has_ fixed me now! I wouldn’t have had father know about the desk for the world, at least till I had got rich ; but now it’s all over, and I have lost every thing! I wonder why I didn’t. think of this before. Douglas and that other fellow must have stolen the things I bought. One thing’s certain, Pll do no more trading just now, for I am disgusted with it; but I will go to work and see if by good scholarship I can’t atone for this trouble. (Exit.) BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. THE SCHOOL-BOYS’ TRIBUNAL. CHARACTERS } SopHos, the Judge, Smion Srourm, ist ATTENDANT, Ropin Roeux, 2d ATTENDANT, GRANVILLE GOAHEAD, Tom TRovuBLEsSOME, Hiram Hoipsack, Bm Brae, Ernest THINKER, LAWRENCE Lazy. Scenr.—Sophos, with long white hair and venerable appearance, sitt?tng upon an elevated seat. Two attendants stand beside him. A. gilt crown and a bundle of birch rods are lying near. One of the attendants steps forward and draws a eircle with chalk upon the floor, within which each of the boys stands while speaking. SorHos. Bring me my wizard-book. (Attendants place a large book in his lap.) See that the crown and rods are ready, and then admit the youths who are to be brought within the circle of our magic power, and I will read to them their des- tiny. (Zim Troublesome enters.) Who is this? (Turns the pages.) Is not this Timmy Troublesome, the boy who med- dies with everybody’s business, and is forever getting into difficulty by his restlessness ? ATTENDANT. The same, sir. Sopnos. He is a curious fellow. I can not say much good of him, I think it is of this kind of material that dis- orderly schools are made. Tim, do you know the fable of the dog in the manger ? Tim. I thirk I have heard it. SopHos. Perhaps you may see a picture of yourself there, if you look sharp. You neither study nor let others study. So you are like the dog. You have a bad reputation, and must suffer the consequences, Tr. Please, sir, don’t be too hard on me. I only leaned over in my seat for a minute to-day, to look at the pictures in Sam’s book, and I got called out on the floor. Sornos. That was because you were not minding your own business. : Tim. And if I happen to say a word to the fellers in fun, they pick a quarrel with me. THE SCHOOL-BOYS’ TRIBUNAL. 43 SopHos. It takes two to make a quarrel. You are apt to be cross as well as meddlesome. So you make yourselt disagreeable to everybody. Don’t you sometimes get others into a scrape, by your meddling propensity ? Trim. I don’t know. I can’t help itifIdo. They areas much to blame as I. Sornos. That is the old excuse. But it will not answer here. Your record is on this page, and I will read it. (Reads.) T'ke meddlesome boy becomes the meddlesome man. He will not suceeed in life, because he will not mind his own business. He gets himself and others into trouble and thinks he can not help tt. Take him away, and see what good discipline will do for him. (Attendant hits him with the rods, and drives him to the opposite side of ‘the stage.) (Enter Bru BRAG, with a swaggering air.) Brag. I suppose you know me. My name is William. I have always been one of the luckiest fellows in school. I came within an ace of getting the fourth prize at the last examination. Father said I deserved it, but the committee couldn’t see it in that light. Sornos. Oh, yes; your last name is Brag, I believe—Bill Brag, as the entry stands in my book. Brag. That’s my name; but I would rather be called William. It sounds better. Sornos. We will not quarrel about names. ‘You pretend to be quite a scholar. Tell me what makes you so much ahead of all the rest. Brae. Oh, that is easy enough. ‘In the first place, here’s brains. (Pointing to his head.) ‘None of your dunce blood in this chap. I come of good stock. I hold my head up in good company, and make the best of things. Says the mas- ter to me, the first day I went to the grammar-school, “ You look like a good boy, Willie; I hope it is'so.” Says I, “ Yes, sir ; I never tell lies, or swear, or do any thing of that sort.” So I got into favor right off, and was put ahead. I look out for aumber one, and I guess I can stand my chance with anybody. And then, you see, I mind my own business; that fellow over there doesn’t (pointing to Tim), and I can— Sornos. Stop; that will do. I see what you are made of. Let me read to you a short proverb which is written here 44 BEADLE’S DIME. DIALOGUES. beside your name. (Reads.). Self-praise goes but. litile ways. I never knew a, boaster. to. be respected in a community. People soon. find him out, He is the ass in thé lion’s skin. Everybody knows that his roar is only a bray. Go, Bill, and act a manly part; leave off bragging, and you may be some- body yet. (Enter Lazy and Srupw.) Sorpnos. Ah! what have we here? a pair of twins? ATTENDANT, This, sir, is Master Lazy, and this Master Stupid. They are great friends, always together, and. often mistaken for twins. They want you to tell. their fortunes to- gether. Sopnos. That is easily done.. Their names are connected by a brace in my book. Has not one of you a brother nam- ed Dunce? Lazy. (Yawning, and pointing at Stupid.) I guess it’s him. Srurimp. (At the same time.) Hey? Sornos. Don’t bot speak together, Oh, now, as I louk a little closer, I perceive that both of you belong to the Dunce family. Stupid, tell me how many hours there are in a day. Stupm. (Drawling.) Hey? Lazy. (To Stupid.) Say sixty. Sornos. How do you make that out, Master Lazy ? Lazy. Why, the folks say I sleep twenty-four, and I guess I have to worry through about twenty-four more in school, and the rest will make it pretty near up. to sixty. Sornos. You are sharp at reckoning, and if you had a lit- tle more life, perhaps you might make a scholar; but I nave a serious account against, both of you. This is the way it stands. Item first, a long array of tardy marks. Second, idle more than half.the time. Third, dozing in school hours Consequence, bad. lessons. If you do not soon reform, you may expect to.be reckoned by-and-py among the drags and drones of society, as you, are now a disgrace to the schoo}, But here comes one who may, perhaps, teach you somethin.s, _AEnter Rosin Roun, full of fun, who pushes Lazy and Stur=. out of the ring.) Sopnos. Better a dozen rogues than one fool. You plague of schoolmasters, you young scapegrace, Robin Rogne, what THE BCHOOL-BOYS’ TRISUNAL. have you to say for yourself, why the law should not have ‘its course? «Are you guilty or not guilty of the last attempt to poke fun at honest, peaceable folks ? Rosi. Guilty, sir. Sornos. Iam glad ‘to see'that you own your silly pranks, for that gives hope of reformation. But what excuse have you for your misdemeanors ? Rosin. I don’t mean any harm, sir; I must have 4a little fim once in awhile. Sopraos. Fun is all right in its place, but in school it goes by a different name. There they call it mischief. Who tip- ped over Harry Slowthink’s inkstand the other day, and spoiled a new copy-book ? Roxy. I did, sir. Sornos. And how did you come to do it? Ros. I was tickling Harry’s ear with my pen, sir. Sornos. And why did you do that? Rosin. I couldn’t:help it, sir, The fun is in me, and it must come out. I don’t stop to think. Sornos. Ah, yes, I see how it is; but some teachers are a little blind in this matter. Such boys must be kept busy, and pretty closely watched. You may become a smart mah under the right kind of discipline. We'll keep a sharp eye on you, and give you enough to do, I think it may be well to set you to work to chastise the dunces. Give him a rod, and let him try his hand on those we have here. eens gives him a rod, which he uses freely.) (Enter GOAHEAD, pulling along HoupBAck.) Soros. A precious couple this, I should ‘think. If you could be thus linked:together through life, you might serve as a mutual restraint to each other. I can read your characters at a glance, They are the opposite extremes. Master Go- aucad pushes along anywhere without thought, and is always making blunders, while Holdback here will never undertake any thing difficult for fear of failing.’ “Boys, let us see what you know. Iwill give: you an easy problem. If a man walk four miles in an hour, how long will it take him to go a distance of sixty miles? Now, think of it. GoaHEAD (rapidly). Iknow, sir, If he walks four miles fn an hour, in sixty miles he will walk four times sixty hours, . 46 BEADLE'S DIME. DIALOGUES: which are two hundred and forty miles... Therefore he will walk two hundred,and forty miles-—no, two hundred and forty hours. Sopnos. There is a sample of your rushing: propensity. You, don’t, stop to, think, but, you say the first thing that comes into your head... Holdback, what is the true answer to the proklem ? Horpnack. Idon’t know. I can’t do-it. Sopnos. Can’t is a favorite word with you. Stop and think. ; Houpsack.. Ijcan’t think. I never did any sums like that. Sopnos.. Ah, I.see you won't ry. That-is the trouble; so you go to your companions for help in difficulty. You copy examples from other boys’ slates. When you havé a hard les- son, you Jook it over, and; then shut the book in despair, say- ing, “ I can’t-get it.’ Goahead gets) his, task done’ inva trice, and after all makes the most bungling recitations in the class. He needs to be more cautious; and you, Master Holdback, need to be more confident, and then you will both succeed. © (Znter, ERNEST , THINKER.) Sorpnos. What is yourname my lad? Ernest.,, The,boys call, me Ernie, though my true name is Ernest. Sorpnos. Zynie? That means, I think, that you have earned a good reputation by your dilligence. Ernest... think.not, sir... I.don’t learn so.easy as Brag and Goahead, and so I study harder than they. Soruos.. That.means,that, you do with your might what- ever you have to do. I have heard of you before, Master Ernest Thinker, and.your record is written in this book. (Reads.) This scholar is one who with small means makes great improve: - ment. He may have,a mind, which is not quick to compre- hend, but he bends all, his energies:to the work that, is: before him. . Ilis advance may be slow, but it is sure. And he is not the herald of his own virtues... Others: praise him, while he keeps silence. Such a boy will in time reach a true and noble manhood. He deserves the crown as a reward for his diligence and fidelity. (Boys gather round, and form a tableau... SopHos places the crown upon Eunesy’s head. Scene closes.) WHAT COMES OF A LOOSE TONGUE. 47 WHAT COMES OF A LOOSE TONGUE,* FOR SEVERAL MALES AND FEMALES, CHaracters: Farmer Thrifty ; his wife ; his son Harry ; his daughter Hmma ; Miss Loquacity, a village gossip ;. Parson, Magistrate, Constable and Spectators. } Scrnu.—-In Farmer's kitchen. (Right) Farmer Turirty, sitting on a low chair, shelling orn. (Center) Mrs. Tururty, tn bordered cap, standing at tle, troning. - (Left) Harry Trrrrty, in study-gown and slippers, loungin, upon a sofa, reading. Mrs. Turiety. I do say for it, Hezekiah, I shall be the k- ful when you get,done making so much muss. When ’ill you be done planting ? Farmer Turirty. Oh, dear! I don’t know. If we have much more of this wet weather, the corn’s just as well off in the corn-house. It'll all rot if it’s planted. We'll put, it in:as soon as this spell’s over (with a side glance towards HARRY). Harry likes well enough to spend the money; perhaps he'll lend a hand for a day or two, just to help us through. Harry. Ihave been expecting that honor ever since my return from college. For such delightful service I shall need a uniform consisting of a broad-brimmed hat, a hack-about, scare-crow suit, a pair of gloves, and big boots—(aside) con- ditions hard to comply with, I reckon. Mrs. Turirry. My son, perhaps you'll find what will suit you in the attic. (Tests the heat of her iron with. finger moisi- ened by the lips.) j Harry. (With a disconsolate look). All right;mother..There’s nothing like being ready for an emergency. The weather; may be fine to-morrow. Tl try my luck on an attic expedi- tion. (Zaitt.) Farmer Turiry. I don’t want you to get. any more potatoes out of the big bin. There won’t be enough left to plant. ; Mrs. Tariry. Well now, I do say, there it isagain.. You * Yor a gee or school-room drama this is very amusing. The charac- ters shou!d be dressed ‘‘ in character.’ A curtain, or drop scene, or fold- ing doors are necessary. 48 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. men never think women’s time good. for any thing but to waste. Do you want me to blister my fingers on those little bits of potatoes in that small bin? ‘Well, I sha’n’t do it. So, there... (FaRMER Turirty shells violently.) The small pota- toes. are jast as good as any to, plant. You»allers cut up the big ones. What’s the use? (rons away vigorously.) (Enter Miss Loquacrry, without warning. Talks very fast.) Miss Loquacrry. Lah suz! good-morning. How do you do? Ward at it, I see. I came right in without knockin’. Don’t disturb yourself at all. I'll wait on myself. (Helps her- self to a seat.) TI feel kind o’ at home here... What’s the sense o’ going into a neighbors house to be waited on? I try to feel perfectly at home wherever I go. FarmMeER Turirry (astde.) That’s the bother of it. Miss Loquacity. Bless my heart, Lucy Ann, you don’t know how I’ve wanted to see you all this week, and now it's Wednesday ; but you know it’s been so awful wet. I sot out as soon as it held up. Lah me! do you know I fell in love with your new bonnet, last Sunday ? Farmer Turirry. What if some luckless fellow had treated you in that way, Miss Loquacity ? Miss Loquacrry. Me! Why, how? Farmer Turiry. As you did the bonnet. Miss Loquacity. Well now, Uncle Hezekiah, you are too bad. There's no fear of that. Farmer Tarirty (aside.) Uncle! Ugh! Uncle! Miss Loguaciry. Lah suz,I call that bonnet lovely. I said as much to Mrs. Stimpson, and, upon my word, what do you think she said? Just as sure’s I set here, she said it waa ugly’s Cain. I don’t care what the Stimpsons think, I mean to have’one just like it. Did Miss Jenkins make it ? Mrs. Tarirry. No; I got it of Mrs. Millen. Miss Loquacity. They say Mrs. Millen is going to be married to old Sniffins. Mrs. Trriery. I can’t believe it. Miss Loquacity. NorI; but they say it’s so. Lah suz me! there’s lots o’ folks going to be married. The school- ma’am is going to marry Seth Jones; and Susan Jones is going to marry their hired man. Jsn’t that awful? Did you WHAT COMES OF A LOOSE TONGUE. 49 ever think Jennie Smith, who’s been away to boarding-school, would take up with John Peters? They say that’s coming off soon. And there’s a stranger from out of town visiting Anne Stimpson...Anne and brother Sam have allers been pretty thick. I’m ’fraid something's wrong. Don’t you think Mr. Larkins, whose wife died only last March, goes to see that Miss Atkins! At least, I saw him going that way. Who do you suppose is going to take Fannie Lucas? She’s been getting, I don’t know how many, new dresses, and has had a dressmaker at the house a whole week—, (Enter Harry, tn his attic uniform.) Bless my soul and body! (Stares at him.) Upon my word, Harry Thrifty, is this you? Have you just come from col lege ? Harry. Oh, no. I have been home several days, Miss Loquaciry. Hadn’t hearn of it. Lor’ bless me} what's this you got on? Harry. This is the latest college style, Miss Loquacity This coat has seen the first circles. But it has been badly used. It was, unfortunately, obliged to lie in the ditch over- night not long since, and— Miss Loquacrry. Now, that beats all natur. That the kind of clothes they wear at college? I do say for it! Harry. Why, Miss Loquacity, that hat has covered. more brains than some whole families possess. (Picks up the corn scattered on the floor.) Miss Loquaciry. My stars! is it possible! I do think this is a strange world. But there goes Parson Loveland; I must ask him where the social circle is to be this week, Good-day all. (Zzit.) Mrs. Tururry. Why, Harry! I am astonished! You know what a dreadful tongue she has. Harry. Yes; everybody knows that, But she might as well talk about college styles as any thing. Mrs. Turirty. Yes, but you know how her tongue runs. Tt don’t always stop at the right place; and the consequence is, she don’t always report things correctly. Harry. Thatis,sheisa mischief-monger, @ scandal-breeder, 4 gossip; in fact, shevis a right good specimen of a woman 50 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. who, having no children of her own to attend to, attends to everybody else’s children, Farmer Turirry.. That’sit. Ha, ha! | Stickin’ her nose into eyerybody’s business jist as if it was her dooty. Harry. Plenty of such people everywhere. Farmer Turirry. Not a bit of it; my boy. Sich people as her are scarce as blackbirds in January. (Enter Eyoca, with bonnet in hand and hair flying.) Emma. (Looking earnestly at Harry.) What is this I hear? Harry, the street is full of rumors that you laid out last night in the gutters, Mrs. Tunirty. Is it possible? FARMER Turirty, There she goes, a regular fifty-pounder! Didn’t I tell you, boy, that she’s ekal to a hull cage full of cats ? Exma. But, it is also whispered around that (larry was drunk, too. Mrs. Turirty. Drunk! Oh, the trollop! Farmer Torirry, Drunk/ Oh, the tovn pump! I'll put her under it, as sure as my name isn’t, Jones. art Emma. But, Parson Loveland is coming to investigate matters, for, he says the morals of the whole village will ‘be corrupted if an end is not at once and forever put to such proceedings, . Mrs. Turiry. The parson believes the trollop, does: he? Emma. TI suppose so, for I heard it said. that. he had gone to consult the magistrate to see if any legal action could ' be taken in the matter. Farmer Turirty. Legal action! What on airth! . (Shakes an ear of corn threateningly.) Legal action! Now I want to fight. (Begins to strip off his jacket.) Harry. Well, this is truly much ado about nothing. 4 guess my best way is to face the music (starts towards the door, and bring my epemy into close— (Hnter Miss Loquactrry, in great haste, running against Harry.) Miss Loguactry,.. Oh, dear! What accidents wél/ happen to {he most modest women. (Pretends to blush and look abashed.} IT didn’t mean to—I mean I didn’t know you— Harry. You didn’t know I was unwilling to be touched WHAT COMES OF A LOOSE TONGUE. 51 by such a thing as you? You didn’t know I loathe such mischief-mongers’more than I loathe suckers, or vermin, or any thing disgusting. Know it now. Your unlicensed tongue has bred a pretty piece of scandal, truly. Miss Loquaciry. Well, now, if this don’t beat all! Ja mischief-maker. J a scandal‘monger! Is this what comes of my life-long efforts to serve my friends; to— Parmer Turirty. To serye your friends: as a butcher serves a lamb—to cut his wizzen. (Makes a sign of a knife across the throat.) Mrs. Turirry. To serve your friends as a cook a live lobster—puts ’em in a kettle and brings the water to a boil. Emyata. To. serve your friends asa boy serves a fly, by pinning it to the wall. Miss Loquacrry. Oh, you ungratefuls! I came here just to tell you how much J had done for this family. The village is full of such stories! And as soon as J heard of them, J just went about saying it was all a mistake. ‘Harry. Alla mis-Loquacity you mean: Miss Loquacity. And can you my dear boy, put such wrong construction on a woman’s feelings and disinterested regard ? Harry. (Laughing immoderately.) I shall have to ask your pardon, I guess, for my want of perception. Emma. (From rear of stage.) As true as I live, here comes the Magistrate, and the Parson, and Deacon Porter and the Constable. Miss Loquacrty. You don’t say so! (Shows’ visible signs of trepidation.) Farmer Turirtry. Bid them enter, and, Harry, lay your hand on that critter that’ she don’t escape. (Miss Loquacrry is making her way as tf to pass off stage when HARRY arrests her.) ' Harry. My interest in you, my dear, is so tender and true that I really don’t wish you to leave me now. (Draws her to front of stage.) (Enter the Magistrate, Parson, Deacon and Constable.) Magistrate. We are informed, Farmer Thrifty, that your’ ean has committed ‘a breach of the peace; in béing drunk 2nd 52 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. thus scandalizing our community. We have therefore thought proper to serve a process of arrest upon him, in order that you may have an opportunity of, giving bail for his good be- havior, hereafter. Parson. a, Kate. You should wed a man named. Green, Yous “4 dress in green. You should wear green spe*tacles ane— 64 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. Kate. Quite enough of such badinage, Fanny. I con- ceive: that, in your own life, you freely. illustrate the force and truth of what I say. Once you were a gentle, pure-minded girl, who loved books, and birds, and flowers, and never were so happy as when our dear fathers took us out among the green fields. That was not long ago, either—but how changed you are! With the growing riches of your father, youhave chosen other idols than books, and birds, and flowers; you have grown vain and proud ; and not a speck of the old Fanny is left. All now is folly and frippery—your highest aim to “make a conquest,” and your special study to catch a rich husband. © Is not this true ? Fanny. Well, suppose it is—whose business is it? Karr. My business, if you please, when you presume to put on airs and call me “ green” because I happen to be as far removed from your present circle_as the poles are apart. I should have enjoyed to hear you tell of the life at the great centers of folly had you seen proper to answer my first civil question. Fanny. That is—had I seen proper to confess to you just what no woman will confess—her sins and arts and tricks, as you seem to. deem them, by which a woman looks. her. prettiest and acts her subtlest to accomplish the. one great purpose in life, of getting the best settlement possible. Kaix. Is it, then, true that women do go to the summer re- sorts simply for the purpose of “ settlements,” as you call them? _ Fanny. For very little else, I take it. Married women go there, I suppose, to see and be seen; but even they are not backward in receiving all kinds of favors from all kinds of gentlemen. Karte. From strangers ? Fanny. From any civil person; and why not? If Joh Morrissey should offer me a seat in his fine carriage, for a drive, why should I not go, for is he not rich? and hasn’t he now obtained a good standing in wealthy circles ? Kate. What doI hear! That money, no matter how obtained, can secure a good position in fashionable society ? It is a monstrous idea, - Fanny. But true, nevertheless. Kars. Ah, well, we will not discuss matters further. I prefer om EXTRACT FROM “ MARINO. FALIERO.” 65 to remain as I am, pure and simple-minded, to seeing life under the aspect which you seem to adopt... Our ways are apart, Miss Fanny. (vit). Fanny. What a piece of folly Who ever before knew a pretty girl to prefer to remain a greenhorn? I must get along without her, that is certain, Wouldn’t she, with her prim ideas, cut a queer figure at Saratoga or Newport . (Zxit.) , EXTRACT FROM “MARINO FALIERO,” To place before students a good example of classic drama, we here give the celebrated final scene, wherein Faliero, the Doge of Venice, and Israel Bertuccio and Philip Calendaro were arraigned and convicted of treason. In rendering it, the boys can dress en costume, (in togas,) or not, as they see best. To render it with effect a drop-curtain should be used. It rises, disclosing the council in session andthe prisoners, dressed in dark-colored togas. Although only fowr persons are named in the act here given, there should be twelve members of the ‘‘ council” on the stage —the “noble Venetians” referred to by the prisoners in their defense. PRESENT OF THE CounciL. There now rests, after such conviction of Their manifold and manifest offenses, But to pronounce on these obdurate men The sentence of the law—a grievous task To those who hear, and those who speak. Alas! That it should full to me! and that my days Of office should be stigmatized through all The years of coming time, as bearing record To this most foul and complicated treason Against a just and free state, known.to all The earth as being the Christian bulwark ’gainst The Saracen and the schismatic Greek, The savage Hun, and not less barbarous Frank; A city which has opened India’s wealth To Europe; the last Roman refuge from O’erwhelming Attila; the ocean’s queen; Proud Genoa’s prouder rival! ’Tis to sap The throne of such a city, these lost men 66 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. Have risked and forfeited their worthless lives: So let them die the death. Benrtuccio. We are prepared ; Your racks have done that for us. Let us die. Presmpent. If ye have that to say which woud obtalp Abatement of your punishment, the Junta Will hear you; if you have aught to confess, Now is your time; perhaps it may avail you BenTuccio. We stand to hear, and not to speak. PRESIDENT. Your crimes Are fully proved by your accomplices, And all which circumstance can add to aid them; Yet we would hear from your lips complete Avowal of your treason. On the verge Of that dread gulf, which none repass, the truth Alone can profit you on earth or heayen. Say, then, what was your motive? Berrvccio. JUsrice ! PRESIDENT. What your object? Bertuccio, FREEDOM ! PRESIDENT. You are brief, sir. Berrvccro. So my life grows: I Was bred a soldier, not a senator, PRESIDENT. Perhaps you think by this blunt brevity To brave your judges to postpone the sentence ? Bertuccio. Do you be brief as I am, and, believe met, I shall prefer that mercy to our pardon. Preswent. Is this your sole reply to the tribunal ? Bertvuccio. Go ask your racks what they have wrung from us, Or place us there again; we have still some blood left, And some slight sense of pain in these wretched limbs: But this ye dare not do; for, if we de there— And you have left vs little life to spend Upon your engines gorged with pangs already— Ye lose the public spectacle with which You would appall your slaves to further slavery ! Groans are not words, nor agony assent, Nor affirmation truth, if nature’s sense Should overcome the soul into a lie, EXTRACT FROM “ MARINO FALDERO.” For a short respite. Must we bear or die? PRESIDENT. Say, who were your accomplices ? Bentuccio, The SznaTE! PRESIDENT. What.do you mean? Brrruccio, Ask of the suffering people, Whom your patrician crimes haye driven to crime, PRESIDENT. You know the doge? Bextuccro. I served with him at Zara, In the field, when you were pleading here your way To present office; we exposed our lives, While you but hazarded the lives of others, Alike by accusation or defense : And, for the rest, all Venice knows her doge, Through his great actions, and the senate’s insults! PRESIDENT. You have held conference with him? Bertvccio. Iam weary— Even wearier of your questions than your tortures; I pray you pass to judgment. PRESIDENT. It is coming. And you, too, Philip Calendaro, what } Have you to say why you should not be doomed ? . CALENDARO. I never was.a man of many words, x And now have few left worth the utterance, Present. A further application of yon engine May change your tone. CALENDARO. Most true, it will do so; A former application did so; but It will not change my words; or, if it does— PrEsIDENT. What then? CaLenparo. Will my avowal on yon rack Stand good in law ? Preswent. Assuredly. CaLENDARO. Whoe’er The culprit be whom I accuse of treason ? PRESIDENT. Without doubt, he will be brought up to trial. Catenxparo. And on this testimony would he perish ? Presipent. So your confession be detailed and full, He will stand here in peril of his life, CatENnDARO. Then look well to thy prond self, President 68 BEADLE'R DIME DIATOGUES. For, by the eternity which yawns before me, I swear that Tnov, and only thou, shalt be The traitor I denounce upon that rack, If I be stretched there for the second time! Presipentr. Unhappy men! prepare for instant death The nature of your crime—our law—and peril The state now stands in—leave not an hour’s respite, Guards, lead them forth, and upon the balcony Let them be justified; and leave exposed Their wavering relics, in the place of judgment, To the full view of the assembled people. And Heaven have mercy on their souls! Berruccro. Signors, farewell! we shall not all again Meet in one place. Present. And lest they should essay To stir up the distracted multitude— Guards! let their mouths be gagged, even in the act Of execution. Lead them hence! CaLENDARO. What! must we ; Not even say farewell to some fond friend, Nor leave a Jast word with our confessor ? PRESIDENT. A priest is waiting in the antechamber; But, for your friends, such interviews would be Painful to them, and useless all to you. CaLENDARO. I knew that we were gagged in life, at Least All those who had not heart to risk their lives Upon their open thoughts; but still I deemed That, in the last few moments, the same idle Freedom of speech accorded to the dying, Would not now be denied to us: but, since-—— Bertuccio. Even let them have their way, brave Calen daro ! What matter a few syllables? Let’s die Without the slightest show of favor from them; - So shall our blood more readily arise To Heaven against them, and more testify To their atrocities, than could a volume, Spoken or written, of our dying words ! They tremble at our yvoices—nay, they dread Our very silence. Let them live in fear! ~N EXTRACT FROM ‘“ MARINO FALIERO.” Leave them unto their thoughts, and let us now Address our own above !—Lead on; we are rea‘iy. CALENDARO. Israel, hadst thou but hearkened unto me, It had not now been thus; and yon pale villain, The coward Bertram, would— Berrtuccio. Peace, Calen lirs! What brooks it now to ponder upon this? BERTRAM. Alas! 1 did not seek this task; ’twas forced upon me. Say you forgive me, though I never can Retrieve my own forgiveness: frown not thus! Bertuccio. I die, and pardon thee! CALENDARO, (spitting at him.) I die, and scorn thee! (Bertuccto and Calenduro go out.*) * * * * * * * PRESIDENT. Doge—for such still you are, and by the. aw Must be considered, till the hour shall come When you must doff the ducal bonnet from That head, which could not wear a crown more noble Than empires can confer, in quiet honor, But it must plot to overthrow your peers, Who made you what you are, and quench in blood A city’s glory—we have laid, already, Before you, in your chamber, all the proofs Which have appeared against you; and more ample Ne’er reared their sanguinary shadows to Confront a traitor. What have you to say In your deferise ? Dogs, What shall I say to you, Since my defense must be your condemnation ? Ye are at once offenders and accusera Judges and executioners! Proceed ? Upon your power. PRESIDENT. Your chief accomplices Having confessed, there is no hope for you. Dogs. And who are they? PRESIDENT. In number many; but ¢ The first now stands before you in the court— * If desirable, this scene can be divided at this place, 70 BEADLE'S DIME DIALOGUES, Bertram of Bergamo. Would you question him ? Dogs, (looking at him contemptuously.) No! Present. And two others—lIsrael Bertuccio And Philip Calendaro—have admitted Their fellowship in treason with the doge! Docs. And where are they? _ PreEsIDENT. Gone to their place, and now Answering to Heaven for what they did on earth, Docz. Ah! the plebeian Brutus, is he gone? And the quick Cassius of the ar’senal ?— How did they mect their doom ? Presipent. Think of your own; It is approaching. You decline to plead, then? Dogs. I can not plead:to ‘my inferiors, nor Can recognize your legal power to try me, Show me the law. PRESIDENT. On great emergencies, The iaw must be remodeled or amended. Our fathers had not fixed the punishment Of such a crime; as, on the old Roman tables, The sextence against parricide was lett In pure forgetfulness; they could not render That penal, which had neither name nor thought In their great bosoms. Who would have foreseen That nature could be filed to such a crime As sons ’gainst sires, and princes ’gainst.their realms } Your sin hath made us make a law, which will Become a precedent against such haughty traitors, As would with treason mount to tyranny ; Not even contented with a scepter, till They can convert it to a two-edged sword! Was not the place of doge sufficient for you ? What's nobler than the signory of Venice ? Dogz. The signory of Venice! You betrayed me You—you, who sit there—traitors as ye are! From my equality with you in birth, And my superiority in action, You drew me from my honorable toils In distant lands—on flood—in field—in cities ; You singled me out, like a victim, to EXTRACT FROM “ MARINO FALTERO.” Stand crowned, but bound and helpless, at the altar Where you alone could minister. I knew not— I sought not, wished not, dreamed not, the election, Which reached me first at Rome, and I obeyed; But found, on my arrival, that, besides The jealous vigilance which always led you To mock and mar your sovereign’s best intents, You bad, even in the interregnum of My journey to the capital, curtailed And mutilated the few privileges Yet left the duke. All this I bore, and would Have borne, had not my very hearth been stained By the pollution of your ribaldry, And he, the ribald, whom I see amongst you— Fit judge in such tribunal ! PRESIDENT. And can it be, that the great doge of Veni.ze With three parts of a century of years And honors on his head, could thus allow His fury, like an angry boy’s, to master All feeling, wisdom, faith, and fear, on such A provocation as a young man’s petulance ? Dogs. A spark creates the flame; ’tis the last drop Which makes the cup run o’er—and mine was full Already. You oppressed the prince and people: I would have freed both—and have failed in both. Pause not: I would have shown no mercy, and I seek none, My life was staked upoma mighty hazard— And, being lost, take what Z would have taken, I would have stood alone amidst your tombs ; Now you may flock round mine, and trample on it, As you have done upon my heart while living, Present. You do confess, then, and admit the justice Of our tribunal ? Docs. I confess to have failed. Fortune is female: from my youth her favors Were not withheld. The fault was mine to hope Her former smiles again at this late hour: a Present. You do not, then, in aught arraign our equity? Dogz. Noble Venetians, stir me not with questions, J am resigned to the worst, but in me still 73 BEADLH’S DIME DIALOGUES, Have something, of the blood of brighter days, And am not over-patient. | Pray you, spare me Further interrogation; which boots nothing, Except to turn a trial to debate. T shall but answer that which will offend you, And please your enemies—a host already. ® "Tis true, these sullen walls should yield no echo ; But walls have ears—nay, more, they have tongues—and If There were no other way for truth to overleap them, You, who condemn me—you, who fear and slay me— Yet could not bearrim silence to your graves What you would hear from me of good or evil. The secret were too mighty for your souls ! Then let it sleep. in mine—unless you court A danger which would be, had I full scope To mike it famous): for! true words are things » And dying men’s are things whichilong outlive, And oftentimes avenge them. Bury mine, If ye would fain survive me. Takecthis:counsel ; And, though too oftye made me dive in wrath, Let me die calmly. » You may grant: me this! I deny nothing—defend nothing—nothing I ask of you. but silence for myself, And sentence from the court! PreswentT. Marino Faliero, doge of Venica, Count of Val di Marino, senator, And sometime General of the fleet and:army, Noble Venetian, many times and oft >! Intrusted by the state with high employments, Even to the highest—listen to the sentence |! Convict by many witnesses and proofs, And by thine own confession, of the guilt Of treachery and treason, yet unheard of Until this trial—the decree is Darr! The place wherein as doge thouyshouldst: be painted, L With thine illustrious predecessors; is To be left vacant, with a death-black vail Flung over these dim words engraved beneath— ee, “This place is of Marino Faliero, Decapitated for his crimes.” EXTRACT FROM “MA.sINO FALTER.” 8 Doerr, What crimes? Were it not better to record the facts, So that the con’templator might approve, Or at the least learn whence the crimes arose ? When the beholder knows a doge conspired, Let him be told the cause—it is your history. PrEsMENT. Time must reply to that. Our sos wil judge Tieir fathers’ judgment, which I now pronounce. As doge, clad in the ducal robes and cap, Thou shalt be led hence to the Giant’s Staircase, Where thou and all our princes are invested ; And there, the ducal crown being first resumed, Upon the spot where it was first assumed, Thy head shall be struck off; and Heaven have mercy Upon thy. soul ! Dogz. Is this the sentence ? PRESIDENT. It is. Doge. I can endure it. And the time ? PRESIDENT. Must be immediate. Make thy peace with God— Within an hour thou must be in his presence ! Doex. Tm there already ; and my blood will rise To Heaven before the souls of those who shed it, ~ (Curtain drops.) BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. MATRIMONY.—MA-TRY-MONEY AN ACTING CHARADE, A very effective parlor piece. It can be produced with success in almost any circle, and will afford a fine evening’s entertainment, Folding or slid ing doors can be used in the place of a curtain. Mrs. Hamiuton, a lady of fashion. ARABELLA, er eldest daughter. ELLEN, her youngest daughter. Kary, the ladys maid. Count Lorenzo DE VAURIEN, a French nobleman. Cares Harper, Mrs, LHamilion’s nephew. Dennis, the Irishman as does the waiting. Scene 1.—A parlor handsomely furnished. A sofa in the back- ground. The whole play is laid in this same room. ARaA- BELLA discovered in evening-dress, before a glass, arranging a Nubia. Een seated on a chair, looking over an annual. ARABELLA. Nellie, are you ready ? Eien, Yes, Bella, and almost tired of waiting. It is so very tiresome to go to parties of this kind so late, ARABELLA. . Late! why it is only ten o’clock. One makes more of a sensation by coming in after the company has: as- sembled. It is so pleasant to sweep up the room, hearing on all sides, “ What a splendid girl!’ “ A perfect Juno!” “ Who is she?” Ah, Nellie, that is delightful ! Eien. Is it? Well, I wish ma would come; I think it is fully late enough now. (Enter Mrs. Hamiuton and Kary, carrying shawls, scarfs, ana 2 gloves.) - Mrs. Hammiton. Are you ready, girls? My dear Ara- bella, you are superb to-night. Ah, Nellie, are you there? Why, how simply you are dressed! “Where are your jewels, my dear ? ARABELLA. Nellie let me send them to Caldwell’s, ma, to be re-set in my parwre for the fancy party to-morrow evening, at Mrs. Highferluting’s. Mrs. Hamiuton. Oh, very well. Now, girls, remember what I told you this afternoon ; you are to be sure and exert MATRIMONY. ¥() yourselves this evening. Count de Vaurien is the parti this winter, and I am particularly anxious to secure him for one or the other of you. He is handsome, titled, and very wealthy ; pray exert yourselves. ARABELLA. Oh, indeed we will, ma! Countess de Vau- tien! My heart throbs at the mere mention of it. Mrs. Hamiuron. You, too, Ellen. He may prefer sweet simplicity. Be sure you encourage any attentions. ELLEN (hesitatingly). Ye-s-s, ma. (Enter DEnnis.) ; Dennis... If you plase, the carridge is cum. (Hvit.) Mrs. Hamrron. Very well, Dennis. Dear me, I have forgotten my fan, Katy, go tomy room—no, come with me; I can find it better myself, and I want you to arrange my shawl. (Hzeunt Mrs. Hamilton and Katy.) ARABELLA. Oh, how my heart beats with delightful anti- cipations. Nellie, dear, will you arrange my shawl? Oh, Con’t pitch it atme! How absent-minded you are! . That’s it! Thank you. ELLEN. “How particular you are about your shawl and Nubia. ARABELLA. Yes, I am; because one may, mect her fate in the entry, aud first impressions are so powerful. (Enter Kary) Kary. ‘Your ma is in the carriage waiting for you, ladies. ARABELLA. Come, Nellie, you ¢an put your shawl on in the entry. (Hzit.) Kary. Stop, Miss Nellie, let me fix you. “My, how pretty your Nubia is! There! that’s becoming.” You do look sweet, that’s a fact; as sweet as Miss Bella, with all her jew- elry. ELLEN. Pshaw, Katy! There, give me my gloves. Kary. Miss'Ellen, Mr. Charles left'a bouquet in'the hall for you. He hadn’t time to stop, and you-were dressing. He's uncommon fond of you, miss. Eien. Nonsense. What would ma say? She is wait. ing. Good-night, Katy. (Hwit.) Kary. Good-night, miss. What would ma say? ‘Well, whatever she’d say, you'd do, that’s certain; for if she ain’t 76 BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES. captain in ‘Ais family ’'m mistaken, (Taking a novel from under the sofa cushion.) _Now they’re all gone, and they won’t. be home till two or three o’clock, and Ill just finish. tho “Wasted Heart and Blighted Hopes!” |My, it’s such a sweet story! (Begins to read.) ‘The situation of the lovers was now truly critical.” Oh, how interesting! .“ Alphonso was neaxly distracted at finding his mother—’ Oh, my, he’s got a ma, too! | (Enter DENNIS.) ; Dennis. Oh, Katy, are you here? Katy (hiding her book). Yes, I’m here. Dennis: Sure, it’s lighting the parlor you are with your purty eyes. Kary. Bah! blarney! What do you want? Dennis. I want you. Karty. Well, you ain’t the first that’s wanted me. What else? Dunnis. Oh, Katy, sure you’re my heart’s desire! Katy (coming close to her), dust you think you could love me just 4 little bit ? Kary (coquetiishly). I never tried. Dennis (tenderly). Won’t you? Arrah, Katy, honey, #4 loving you I'am‘ from my heart! Karty. Do you love me, Dennis? Dennis. Deut 1? (Kisses her.) Katy,, .Oh, Dennis, what. would ma say ? Dennis.. .Sure, I thought you was an orphan, Katy, sure, and hadn’t any ma. ,Katy,, Yes, so I am.. I was only quotationing from Miss Ellen. Dennis ! Dennis, | Well, darlint, Kary, Come with me into the pantry. Ive got a beaati ful little supper for you. : Dennis. Katy, you’re the jewel of the:world! (Hzeunt Scene 2.—Katy dusting and arranging the furniture. Kary... Oh, dear me! how tired Lam, to be sure!, Up every night till two or three inthe morning, when the young ladies come home from the grand. parties; and Miss Bella won't let nobody touch. her hair but me. Miss Ellen, bless _ as] eect ee oa a nnn Ri nacre Acie fe MATRIMONY. 7 her heart, ain’t no trouble to nobody ; but Miss Bella always comes home as cross as a bear. And there’s that count, with mustaches all over his face, comes here all the time, a-spark- ing Miss Bellaj‘and he’s so imperent. Tried ‘to kiss'mé hist vight.| The idea It’s well for him Dennis ‘wasn’t about. if it was Mr. Charles, now! Ob, my, here’s somebody coim- (ng! (Begins to dust again.) (Enter CHARLES HARPER.) Cartes. Ah, Katy, good-morning. Ladies at home? Katy. . Mrs. Hamilton’s gone with tat count to see some pictures, and Miss Bella’s gone with her. Cuarues. Ah, gone with the Count de Vaurien, have they ? But Nellie—Miss Ellen, I mean. Katy. Land, sir, you needn’t mind’ me! “You ‘can call her Nellie, if it’s any relief to your feclings. » (Sighting) Cmartes. “Why,’Katy, what's the matter? Kary (sighing again). Nothing, sir. CuarLeEs. .. What are you sighing for? Now, Katy, brighten up and tell me somicthing. Miss Ellen goes ‘out a great deal lately, doesn’t she? ; Kary.) Yes, poor thing. ys Cuartes. Poor thing!’ Why, doesn’t she enjoy it? Katy. Yes, sir, bat Miss Ellen ain’t ofa festivitous dispo- sition, and she doesn’t’care much for gay. and festive scenes. She’s like the girl in' the “ Wasted Heart and Blighted A ffec- tions.” 1 She— ! CHARLES (laughing). Why, Katy, do you read novels? - Katy. Yes, sir, if you please, sir, when the youtig ladies is out) in the evenings. She’s waiting for her fate, sir; but (sighing) he’s orfulvlong a-coming. Cuartes. Katy, you’re a good girl: - Now tell me, do you faink ‘Miss Ellen likes anybody in particular ? Kate.-Ohy, yes, sir; she’s very fond of’ her ma. CHARLES. But I mean any gentleman. Now, I know a soung gentleman’ that's ‘very much attached to’ Miss Ellen, and ne=he’s afraid to tell*her so: Katy. Oh, my, how bashful, to’ be sure: - Cuarues. You see, Katy, he is afraid to try— Kary: Oh, he'd: better try, sir. I'd advise him ‘to try, though ’tain’t no use. Miss Ellen’s in love with somebody elae: 78 BEADLE’'S, DIME. DIALOGUES. CuARLES (furiously). Somebody else? Who is it? The puppy ! Pll, wring his neck t Kate (aside). IL knew I'd make him own up. He’s in love with her himself. Shall I tell him to try to win her? She'll have him ; I know that. I will. (Aloud.) Mr. Charles, you must be uncommon fond of that gentleman you was mentioning, to be sure. CHARLES (coming to her, and putting his arm around her). Katy, my, dear Katy, you area dear, good girl; you are very fond of Miss Ellen. I am sure you are a good girl, Kary (aside). Blarney! I wonder what's. coming now ! Cartes, Katy, what pretty lips you have, I quite long to.see, how. they will feel. May I try? Kary (disengaging herself). Oh, Mr. Charles, how you talk ! There’s nobody ’round, and I know you won’t take advantage of my being alone. CuHanEs (laughing aside)... Not for the world. . Kary (wiping her. mouth with her apron), You're: stronger than I am, to be sure, Mr. Charles, CiLaRLEs (aside). I wonder, now, if Ellen ¢, out. Katy, you are very cruel to refuse me just’ one kiss. Katy (aside)... Stupid, why doesn’t he take it? Cuarves, Katy, tell me. _You—you think Miss Ellen is in love? Katy, I’ve half amind to try for; that kiss. Katy. You shan’t have it. Yes, Mr. Charles, I think Miss:Ellen is in love, (Aside). And if I.don’t torment you, I'm mistaken, CHARLES (sighing). Ah, I see. how it is; that villainous count las the whole field to himself, and she has deserted: me. (Seats himself, sighing dismally). Katy (aside). Well, I am of a forgiving disposition, to be sure; I'll ease his mind, (Aloud). Mar, Charles, are you? in love, with Miss Ellen ? Cnarures, Yes, Katy, I love her devotedly. Katy. Well, Mr. Charles, just.you try your luck. .Tdon’t gay nothing; but just you iry. { CuarLes.. And you think— : Kary. 1. don’t think at all; I ain’t.of age; but Miss Ellen loves semebody unt a thousand miles off. MATRIMONY. 3] CHARLES (starting up, joyfully). Katy, I must have that Kiss. Katy (running off the stage). Catch me, then. (Znter DENNIS.) Cnhartes [ll try. (Starts up and falls into the arms of. Dennas). > Dennis. Sure, Mr. Charles, do you want to embrace me? I'm willing. (Stands as if waiting for a kiss.) CHAxKLeEs (laughing). So, Dennis, you are taking care of Katy, are you? Dennis. I’m hoping, sir, to do that same; sir, as soon as we've money enough laid up. CHARLES (giving him a coin). Well, add that to your stock. DENNIS (owing cnd pulling the front lock of his hair). Thank you, sir, Cuartes. Well, be clever to Katy; she’s a good girl; teke good care of her. Dennis. Sure, sir, Pll try. [Scene closes. Screne 3.—Znter Mrs, Hamiutroy and ARABELLA. Mrs. Hamriton. Well, my love, Count de Vaurien will soon be here, to have a private interview with me; he asked permission in the entry, last evening, after you went up to the dressing-room. Of course he has proposed ? ARABELLA. Oh, yes, ma, in the conservatory. I was bash- ful, reluctant, of course, but referred him to you. Oh, ma, what a puppy he is! Mrs. Hamiuton. Yes, my dear, butso rich, Mrs. Grundy says he counts his money by the hundreds of thousands, (Dell rings.) Ah, there’s the bell! I will go up-stairs, love. Let him see you a moment alone; it willinspire him. (Kisses her aud exit), ARABELLA. Qh, dear me! it is very tiresome to marry that conceited puppy ; but then, as ma says, he ts very wealthy. Kary (outside). If you try to kiss me again, sir, Pll tell Dennis. Count (outside). Ah, my charmer, you vill not have ze cruelty. , ARaBELLA. So, flirting with Katy? Just wait till we're 8 BEADLK’8 DIME -DIABOGUES, married, sir, and, ten, if you kiss my maid, 1—.) He’s com- ing. (Sits down and takes up a book). (Enter CounT DE VAURIEN.) Count. Ah, my angel, have I ze felicité to see you zis mornin’? Je suis charmé! You have ze goodness to look t me with zose dazzling orbs. Ah, zey air magnif—ange- ique. ARABELLA. Ah; count, I fear you are a sad flatterer. Count." My life, to flatter you would be to, as ze Shaks- peare says, “silver ze fine gold, to put ze rouge upon ze lily, to sprinkle ze violet with ze eau de cologne.” Perfection can not be flattered. ARABELLA (affectedly). Dearest Lorenzo, you quite over- power me. Count. Can I'see your charmante mamma? I can not rest till I have ask her consent to—my life—to call you mine. ARABELLA, Oh, count (bashfully), I will tell ma you are here. (zit). Count (dropping the broken. English, and speaking the pure American), John, Brown, you are in, luck,,,. That splendid creature fairly idolizes you. . Ah,.think of being her husband, and fingering the rocks old Hamilton left. To be sure, it is a sacrifice for a man of your attractions to, settle down to a married life; but the money, my boy, the mcaey, (Biter Kary.) ‘Katy. If you please, sir, Mrs. Hamilton says she is wait- for you in the library. (Zvit.) Count. I come, most sharming Katy, (Zvi). (Znter, CHARLES:) Cranes. It is all over! The lawsuit upon which my whole fortune depended ‘has been decided against me. “I am pennilesst And Ellen—ah, ‘I dare not think of her! (Leans his head on the table, as if in great sorrow). (Znter ELLEN.) Eien, Why cousin, are you here? What ie the mat ter 2. : p MATRIMONY, a1 Cuartes, My lawsuit.was decided against me this morn- ‘ng. ELLEN. Is that all? CuartEs, All? Why, is not that enough? I am a beggar. ELLEN. Dear Charles, how absurd! A young man in health, with a profession and talent, to talk of being a beggar ! Fie, cousin, I thought you were briver. Cranes. © Alas, that is not the worst. My brightest hopes are blighted. ELLEN (mocking him), Are they ? Come, cousin, cheer up; tell me your trouble. CuaRLeEs. I will; you shall be my confidante. ‘Well, then, dearest Ellen, I am in love. ELLEN (turning away). You? Cuarues. Yes, with the loveliest girl in the world. I love her to distraction ; but now I must resign ler. ELLEN (in @ trembling voice). Why; cousin ? Cuarugs. Can I ask her'to skare poverty, perliaps toil? Never ! ELLEN (tremblingly). “If she loves you. Cuarues, 1 do not even know that, I,haye:never:darec to ask her; and now, how can I ask her ‘to share my lot? ELLEN (standing erect). If she loves you, cousin; she; wih aever ask if you are rich or poor. If; the, loss of your for- tune will influence her, she is unworthy of you, Go to: her bravely, tell her all, and, test her love; (én a lower tone) and may all success attend you ; (still lower) may you be very hap- py, cousin (turning to leave him). CHARLES (springing up). Stay, Ellen! See how I wilk follow your advice. I come bravely to you; you know he? poor Lam now, and yct I dare, to say I love you. ELLEN. Love me? CHARLES. Have you not seen it? ELLEN... .I thought—that is, I hoped-—I feared—-I—I— Cartes. You loved me. Hoping, fearing, thinking are all symptoms of that blessed state of existence. You love tue, then, in spite of poverty ? EuuEN. It is you I love, Charles, not your money. Cranes (embracing her). My dearest Ellen! BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES (Enter Katy, singing.) Katy. Oh, land, I hope I ain’t intruding ! Caries. Come, Ellen, we will find your mother, (Zaeunt.) Kary. Come, Ellen, we will find your mother. The old aady is in demand to-day. . Oh, my gracious ! I’ve half a mind to marry Dennis, if it’s only to be in the fashion, .He was telling me last evening that he had a little money laid up, and I’ve got a little, and—and—well, I'll see this evening. [Scene closes. WHOLE WORD. Screng 4—Mrs. HaMI.ton sitting at a tadle, sewing. Mrs. Hamiutron. Well, my children will be:at home to- day, afier their wedding tour. I quite long to see my daugh- ter, the countess, and poor, dear Nellie. It was a trial to have her marry my nephew after his loss, but then it is a great re- lief to have them, both fairly launched into matrimony. (Enter Katy and DENNIS.) Mrs. Hammon. Well, Katy, what is wanted? Kary. If you please, mum, Dennis and me would like to give warning, mum. Mrs. Hamitton. Warning, Katy? Why? Don’t you like the place ? Dennis. If you please, mum, Katy’s going to be married to me. Mrs. Hammton. You? Why, Dennis, I thought when you came here you said Katy was your sister? DENNIS (scratching his head). Well, marm, you see, we're all one large family since A lam and Eve, marm, and, if you plase, we ain’t any nearer related, marm. Katy. Yes,mum. Miss Ellen did look so sweet in her bridal-dress, mum, that I think T’d like to try matrimony, if you please, mum. (Bell rings). Mrs. Hamruron. There, Dennis, go to the door. Dennis. Yis, marm. (H7zit). Mrs. Hammron. — It must be my dear children: how I long to see then! MATRIMONY. (Enter CHARLES and ELLEN, who advance to Mrs Hamiuton. While she shukes hands with them, enter ARABELLA hastily, followed by the Count.) ARABELLA. Go away! don’t touch me! Oh! you odiove impostor! Oh, oh, hold me, somebody, or I shall choke! Mrs. Hammton. Why, Arabella, my dear, what is the matter ? Arasetta. a 8d. Because it is a well-known aoe thoy do not Pore. bi ‘soe or | immoral in te nde and, ron that « le may pL ywha "7 they publish, with Pleasure and re : ve i aes f 4th. Because it will embody the ri Maiden ota po pal 7 lami of any thing, but enough of every thing, 5th, Because it will contain Best Serials. — q 6th, Because it will ever offer the Best Complete Short Storics, ? a Th. ml 8 0 it will be aa. TEA N ves of ‘Adventure’ from ens that ne never | q red the services of one of the finest wits in America, || ts. and Helps,” * Noveltics tits nA etc., me a eat fund of] rag one Val Iuabl In oehdantl he contain s DHGR ti LE iP ccok OMPANY | iad Sin |