FA ‘DIALOGUES ‘No. 32. : M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, (James SULLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), $79 PEARL STREET, NEW YORK. bi Te fi CUSHING MANUAT AULES OF PROCEEDING |) IND DEBATE DELIBERATIVE | ASSEMBLIES, Sa A Casts’ Guide for Tnstruction and Reference ina - Matters pertaining to the Management of Public Meetings according to Parliamentary Usage - BY LUTHER S. CUSHING, _ THIS VOLUME CONTAINS a ADDITION th Constitution of the United States 7 AND The Declaration of aap a 208 Pages: Bound ke’ Paper, 25 Cents. : oan in Cloth, . silt er — es —_ oa A ‘SENT ‘BY ‘MAIL ON RECEIPT OF THE £RIGM a F ; Ic. and 2c, Stamps Taken. : ‘press 1 M. ‘ IVERS & CO., Publishers 4 eae Peart Street, New ‘York Cay a ‘THE DIME, | DIALOGUES NO. 82, SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENTS, EXHIBITIONS AND THE AMATEUR STAGE. FOR ALL CLASSES AND CHARACTERS. _ ZUMOR. FARCE AND BURLESQUE, F aRLOR AND SOCIETY PIECHS, PATHETIC, DIALECTIC AND MORAL, Copyright, 1885, by Beadle & Adams, PREPARED EXPRESSLY FOR THIS SERIES. M. J. IVERS & CO., PUBLISHERS, (James Sun.rvan, Proprietor), 379 Peary Street, New Yorks, CONTENTS. i PAGE 4 PERSECUTED MAN; or, Too Mucs Moruer-in-Law ...... A Tragic Comedy. For various characters. By Paul Forbes. fl. roU CURIOUS FOR COMFORT; or, Don’r Stick Your Tee IN OTHER PEOPLE'S PRESERVES... A Heroic Home Lesson. For two males and ‘two females. ‘By frank S, Finn. Ti. w — FALSE GUISE; or, Cmartry THAT Pays..........0.....45-5 Representative Case. For several females and children. By Miss O. D. Pierce. Ty, A SURE GUIDE; or, He 1s Most Worrny or Honor WxHo Most Biomone FIMAELRS 55 S365 a ese ee tie ke A Schoo! Episode that Defines a a Principles of Action. For seven males, By Cyrus E. Dearborn Vv. TH E GHT LITTLE BOYS FROM NONSENSE LAND........... By Cyril Deane. VI. rey TUES See See WORLD os iy ca ave ead ose toe te aa A Rhymed Recitation. For five little girls. By Frank Snelling. Wit. THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE; or, A Very Inguisirive Girb..... ..... A Case of Pure Philanthro) he In two scenes. For several charac- ters, male and female. By Miss Maria Mitchell Norris. VIII. 100 MUCH SIDE SHOW;; or, RuNNING AN EXHIBITION. ...... A Stage Furore. Foranumber of boys. By H. Elliott McBride, IX. meee GS. PONDEROUS WAS PAID; or, Two Ways To Loox at WOM ies casas A City Life Reality. For four young ladies. By Miss Nellie oman. oe POLTWwoG VERSUS WOLYPOG; or, Taz Mass Meetina IN Po- A en citie Mustration ‘ot ‘American “ Politics. ” ‘For numerous itizens. By 1. Stearns, 20 © ao 32 4 51 viii, , CONTENTS. XI. TONGUE AND TEMPER; or, A Smite Berrer THAN A SNARL ...... 57 For two ladies. By Edna Dean Ritchie, xi. A Country Home Farce. For three ladies and one gentleman. By I. Stearns. - xm. MIDDLETON’S MISTAKE; or, THE Lesson Broveut Home.... ..... A Village Sensation. For five males. By Frank 8. Finn. XIV. A VALUABLE NEIGHBOR... 0... .2..+. sc eeeecsoens nity tepSitiera oth~ Ke For one lady and one boy. By H. H. Hardy, | XV. * SEE MAN ON. CHEK. ns ceived ts nae os com, samiedds egenieabbes- For two males. By H. H Hardy, XVI. MR. AND MRS. BLIZZARD AT HOME. ........ceeees sovecees For man and wife. By John Knox. : XVIL MORGAN’S MONEY; or, Toe OUTLAWS........... ties Le For five males, By A. Perry. XVIIr. THE COURTS"=JP OF MILES STANDISH............5...-.+. e+ <2 In Four Scenes and Tableau. A Costume and Old Time Drama. Arranged By John R. Craignbolm for School Festival. a THE FLOUR OF THE FAMILY; or, OBaprAH THcMPSON’s Woorna 60 ere 4nd allis over. (Looks at knife a moment.) No; Vl none of it, THE DIME DIALOGUES NO. 22. eee rere A PERSECUTED MAN; : OR, TOO MUCH MOTHER-IN-LAW. FOR VARIOUS CHARACTERS, (Enter PonDER excitedly.) PonpEeR. Pestered? I’m blest if [ain’t just harassed out of my life, and I’m sick of it all—sick—sick! Ill stand it no longer. Vllend it. Jl kill myself, and ieave a note fixing the responsibility for the act on these two women. Women? They are human barpies, who would dance over my grave! That old she-wolf, Mrs. Begg, my wife’s mother, is the real sinner. It is she who nags—nags ; snarls—snarls ; whines— whines ; and puts my wite up to all sorts of things to hector me; and now she has brought that step-daughter of hers here to spend the winter, when they all know I just detest the sim- pleton and gossip. Better die at once than try to live with Such creatures. So here goes for the note. (Sits at table and writes) There! (Reads:) ‘‘To My Mos? ADORABLE Morusr- IN-LAW :—You and your talented step-daughter are too much forme. I give up. Hope you'll enjoy the funeral. I leave you one dollar each, with which to buy four ounces of cor- rosive sublimate to drink to my memory. JoHN PoNDER.” Ha! ha! But won't the old Hecuba gnash her teeth over that / It’sa satisfaction to think of it—really a satisfaction. (Rises.) Now, let me see: what shall it be? A pistol? (Produces a revolver.) One shot will end all. But, that is a dog’s death, and it is bloody It will make my head look as if my mother- in-law had danced on it, and I won’t give her that consolation, (Places revolver on table.) Were is poison (producing bottle from Pocket). Prussic acid—warranted to kill.at a smell. But, it Will twist me all out of shape with agony, and that will just Make the old witch clap her hands with applause, and I’ll not five her a chance todo that. (Places bottle marked Poison on fable.) Shall it be aknife? (Takes long dirk blade from inside Docket.) This is sure kill. One downward thrust, left breast, ei Weg a 10 THE DIME DIALOGUES, Too much brigand about a. knife; it is fit only for assassins, (Lays knife on table.) A rope, then. (Draws rope from coat pocket.) Good thing! But, where’s the beam, or the conven- ient tree? (Surveys the room.) Not a chance here, unless J hang from a picture-nail. That would be a striking subject— say ‘‘An Official Suspension ”’—seeing that I am one of the Poor-House Commissioners. But, how it would please the old vixen to see me in that condition! I think I won't please her somuch. (Lays rope on table.) What, then? Ah! I have it. I'll go drown—leap off the bridge and go down-stream with the tide—leaving my coat and hat on the bridge to show in what way I've escaped the vampires. Yes, the river it is. Adieu, home that is a hall of horrors to me! Adieu, wife that is weak enough to prefer others to her husband! Adieu, troubles and torments and terrors! I’m free at last! (Zzit.) (Enter Mrs. Beaes.) Mrs. B. I thought Ponder was here. I just want a good, square talk with him. I'll have him understand that no man can tyrannize over me. He got up and left the table when I began to tell him how Mr. Beggs used to defer to my judg- ment in al things, and he bristled up and said: ‘‘ Oh hang Beggs! and his widow, too!” Ill hang him if he ever dares to leave the table again when J talk. T’—IT'I— (approaches table) eh, what is all this? A pistol? (Picks it up, eneiioag 4 The very thing! Tl keep it for emergencies. Some da may want to ase it to make Ponder obey me. (Puts pistol in pocket of dress.) Why, if here isn’t a bottle of—of— (adjusts spectucles and reads) POISON! Good Lordy—what 7s the stuff a-doing here? Was there ever such a perfectly good-for-noth- | ing man as Ponder to leave potson lying around as if it was only amelling-saltsf Ill put it away and give him a piece of my mind for hisstupidity. (Puts bottle in pocket.) And, I declare if he hasn't léft this ugly knife here, just to provoke me. He knows I dread such things. Ugh! I'll have an explanation of why he carries such a weapon around with him. (7hrows it under table.) Good Lord a-massy—what is this rope a-doing here?—and 4@ noose on the end, for all the world like a hangman's arrange- ment! What 7s the scamp up to, anyhow? He is justan awful man. I'll keep the rope, for if I shouldhave to tie him up some day it'll come handy. (Hangs rope on arm.) Why, what's this? (Again adjusts specs and bends over table.) A note—I declare. T'll read it, just to see what he is up to. It’s to some cousin of his, I'll bet a bonnet. Oh, those artful, abominable men! (Reads :) “To my most adorable mother-in-law.” Good Land! If he hasn’t give in! 1 didn’t think he would, so soon. Oh, there is only one way to make men respect you, and that is to show them how superior you are, Let us see what else he says. (Reads:) ‘You and your talented step-daughter” Ha! ha! Lorette will be pleased with that compliment, if ee eee eee OS. ’ Money on wine, and cigars, and theaters, and presents to a¢ 2 ? : 2 f A PERSECUTED MAN. il Ponder did give it. (Continues:) ‘Are too much for me. I give up!’ There! I knew he would. Only stick to your opinions and znsist on having everything your own way and in the end you'll win. (Reads again:) ‘‘ Hope you'll enjoy the . funeral!’ The funeral? Why. what on earth does he talk of a funeral for, in this pleasant letter? He is a queer Ponder, “IT leave you one dollar each, with which to—buy—four— ounces—of—corrosive sublimate —to—drink—to—my - mem. ory.” Oh, the villain—the wretch—the monster! Oh, I'll make him rue this any. the unnatural ingrate—the— (Hnter Mrs. PONDER.) Mrs. Ponper. Why, mother, what zs the matter? Mrs. B. Matter? Oh, I could tear out his eyes! Mrs. P. Whose eyes? Mrs. B. Whose, but that beast of a husband of yours? Oh, that you ever should have taken the name of such a man\ You shal: have a divorce; you must get rid of him or I'll leave the house! ‘There, read that letter and see how base a man can become! Mrs. P. (Reads letter.) Why, this is strange. Mrs. B. Oh, very! I found it here on the table, and with it this pistol, tltis bottle cf poison, the dirk-knife there on the floor, and this noosed rope. Mrs. P. (Abdstractedly.) Enjoy the funeral! To drink to his memory! A pistol—poison— knife—rope— (eacitedl/) where 7s Mr. Ponder? Tell me (facing Mrs. Beaas.) what does it all mean? Mrs. B. Mean? Why, it means that Ponder is a mean man—a heartless— Mrs. P. Stop! Too long have J permitted this vilification of my husband here in his own home. Mrs. B. Indeed! What injured innocence, to be sure! Your husband is a model man—so considerate of others’ hap- piness and feelings! Mrs. P. He has always been kind and considerate to me, but I—I—haven’t been so to him. Oh, 1 Anow—I am sure Something dreadful has happened. A pistol—a knife—a rope —poison— Irs. B. And a generous donation of one dollar to his adorable mother-in-law, with which to buy four ounces of cor- rosive sublimate in which to drink his memory! Oh, wouldn't I like to be his wife long enough to make him wish he had never perpetrated that joke! (Enter LORENA.) Lor. Why, how tragic you look, Mrs. Ponder! Mrs. P. (Not noticing her.) 1 must find my husband. Lor. Yes, I would. Dare say you'll find him enjoying himself, wherever he is. Married men don’t usually spené Deer : THE DIME DIALOGUES, _ tresses without enjoying themselves, while their poor wives — drudge at home— Mrs. B. . And their wives’ mothers. Lor. Yes, and their wives’ relatives are made to feel the humiliation of being slighted—overlooked—treated as depend- — ants, (Enter Bows with hat and coat in hand.) Bos. I say, folks, twig these, and see if you know whose rhe they is. (Holds up hat and coat.) rs. P. (Sereams.) Ponder’s! Ponder’s! Bos. Jist so! He shed ’em down on the bridge. Mrs. P. On the bridge? Heaven help me! “He has been _ driven to despair! He has— Bos. H’isted hisself into Kingdom Come, an’ saved you | the funeral show, you bet! Mrs. B. What’ do you mean, sir? (Grasps Bos by shoul-— der and shakes him.) Why do you speak of a funeral show? Boz. Oh, go’way! Is you an undertakeress? Mrs. B. ‘See here, you young vagabond, I’m Mr. Ponder's — wife’s mother, and I’ 1; Bos. ( Whistles.) And that’s what’s the matter with Pon- 4 der! Too much mother-in-law, or I’m a Dutchman! Mrs. B. You vagabond! Will you— Bos. Sart'in I will. Always obleeges w’en I can. Mrs. B. Will you tell me what you mean? Bos. In course. ‘Ponder’s slipped his cable, an’ gone un- der, bows first. Lor. You desire to imply that Mr. Ponder has been unable { to meet his engagements, and has, therefore, made an assign- ] - ment? Bos. Jest so—made an ass of hisself, Mrs. B. That he can do to perfection. Will you answer my question—what do you mean by “too much mother-in-— law?” Mrs. P. He means that my poor husband, driven to. de- spair by your persecution, has gone and destroyed himsel Oh, fhis is terrible! (Hvit.) q Bos. That’s about the size of it; too much mother-in-law’ 30 wuss’n bedbug p’isen; sure to kill. Mrs. B. If Ponder really has committed suicide, I admire him; I didn’t think he had so much courage. Did he actually leap into the water? Bop. Took a header an down he went, howlin’, as he went. —‘‘ Mother-in- law! mother-in-law! 1” Them was his last words - _ on this yearth, an’ w’en he is broughten home here, all a soak-— ed corpus an’ cold as a clam, you'll see the words a-blaz1 there on the wall—‘‘Mene tekel ‘upharsin,” which means, ‘to - much mother-in-law.” Mrs, B, Oh, horrors! I'll not stay to see it—the body, 1 L Se ss tM GP, 4 A PRILZECUTED MAN. 13 mean. I'll get out of this house at once. Since poor, dear Beggs died, my shattered nerves cannot endure the excite- ment of a house of mourning. Lor. Nor I. Mourning does not become my complexion. Bos. Then I'd git, if | was you. It will be jest aoful w’en Ponder comes home on a shutter, with a Dutch brass- band playin’ the cussedest music you ever ddd hear. Oh, itll Mrs. B. Don’t—don’t/ I’m nervous! My sensibilities have received a terrible shock. Bos, Oh, it'll wake cats, an’ make you wish you'd never been a mother-in-law. It'll : Mrs. B. Come, Lorena; there is just time to get the three o'clock train. Ugh! I never want to see thei house again. (Throws pistol and rope on table.) Ponder was a fool to kill himself just to spite me, but I’d be a bigger fool! to stay here and be compelled to cry over him, which I won't do! Lor. Nor I; it would spoil my complexion to weep over a married man. Bos. (Pointing at wall.) ‘‘ Mene, mene, tekel upharsin,” which means— Mrs. B. (Shaking fist at him.) None of your business what it means! (Hxeunt Mrs. B. and Lor.) Boz. Oh, this is bully fun! Sich mothers-in-law is bet- ter’n a house afire, fer they keeps things hot. Golly, wouldn’t I like to head the percession, with the Dutch band to escort that old she-catamount to the train! Guess I'll goand see that she don't ferget ‘‘ Mene, mene, tekel wpharsin ;” that'll make her hump herself. (Throws down coat and hat, and exit.) (Re-enter Mrs. PONDER, weeping.) Mrs. P. What a miserable womsn am I! It is I who am to blame for all this wretchedness—I who have made home unhappy for my husband, and thus drove him to his desperate act. Why did I not see the sinfulness of it all before it was too late? I never again can be happy, so why should I live? Twill not! Vl kill myself. (Advances to table.) Ah! here is the pistol that poor dcar Ponder left, as if for this very pur- pose. (Seizes pistol and looks at it.) Yes; ll end this misery here in this home whose happiness I have wrecked. One shot and all is over. (Places pistol at forehead.) (Enter Bos.) B.. Helloa! Some more fun, as I live! But I say, missus, -you’re a little previous. If youll keep a stiff upper lip you’ll ax me to celebrate the resurrection with you. Mrs. P. (Laying down pistol and turning to Bos.) What do you mean by this unseemly intrusion? B. Mean? Why, that.the circus is a-comin’, an’ that I, an’ you, an’ Ponder is in fer a jubilee. Hear that? (Wodse with- out, Enter PoNDER, tn a very dilapidated condition, coatless THE DIME DIALOGUES, and hatless, led by two citizens, who immediately retire.) Wooray) — Welcome home! ; Mrs. P. You, Ponder? I—I— B. Sart’in you did; an’ so did I; but, ye see, he was fished — out by them two fellers, an’ here he is, a little water-soaked, but hang him out on the clothes-line awhile an’ he’s all right. Mrs. P. (Advancing.) Dear husband—will you forgive | me? j B. Better say—will you forgive him for makin’ sich a fool of hisself as to go drown because of too much mother-in-law. But, I say, old fellow, that was a success. Good Lordy, yer ought to have seen ’em run fer the three o’clock train, an’ I a- © whoopin’ em up with the music of ‘‘ Mene, mene, tekel uphar- sin! That’s the Dutch, you know, of ‘ Mother-in-law, — mother-in-law, the devil you're raisin’.” Mr. P. What do you mean, boy? Where is Mrs. Beggs? Mrs. P. The source of all our misery—she has gone. B. Betcher life! Skipped when she heard of yer takin’ off, an’ never said good-by. Mr. P.. Thank Heaver! And that delectable Lorena? Mrs. P. Both gone, never again to cast a shadow, I trust, | at our fireside. Out of all this distress I have learned the one — lesson few wives learn save through sorrow—that he or she is — am pein to the household who seeks to estrange husband and ~ wife. é Mr. P. (Taking her hand and advancing.) And I have | Jearned that no husband can be assured of happiness whese home is not the sweetest spot on earth to him. An’ I’ve diskevered that w’en a feller ain’t got no home, nor wife, nor mother-in-law, he’s in the way of them as has; — so here goes. (Turns to leave.) Mrs. P. (Placing hand on shoulder.) You spoke of 2 — jubilee; shall we celebrate it without you? B. D’ye mean it? Then here’s my hand on it! (Take PonpER’s and Mrs. Ponprr’s hands.) May you live a thon éand moons and never be eclipsed by a mother-in-law! Mr. P. Amen! (Curtain.) { TOO CURIOUS FOR COMFORT, 5 15 TOO CURIOUS FOR COMFORT; oR, DON’T STICK YOUR FINGERS IN OTHER PEO- PLE’S PRESERVES. Characters :—Mxr. Woopsint, Mrs. Woopsinr, Hawkins, Matrupa ANN. The scene represents a plainly-furnished sitting-room. In the center of the stage there is a table, with a long cloth, long enough to conceal a person. At the right there is an open desk with papers scattered over it. Mr. WoovBIne enters cautiously and looks around. Mr. Woopsrng. I am terribly certain and totally con- vinced that there is mischief in the air—that a storm is brew- ing—that the cyclone is drawing nearer and nearer, and that the lightning is going to strike this domicile. I have arrived at this conclusion from the fact that one of my coat-buttons was missing to-day, and that is always a sure sign of a family squall; never !-new it to fail. I did fully intend to go up to the city and see about Louise, but that button decided me to remain at home. If the lightning must strike I want to be here when the bolt falls. The electric current will be fur- nished by Matilda Ann, whom imy wife deems ‘‘ such a per- fect treasure,” but whom I have set down as a meddlesome, prying, mischief-maker, and the sooner she gets her ticket-of leave and departs for fresh fields and pastures new the better for myself and wife, say I. The other day, I caught her—I refer to my wife’s maid-of-all-work—intently gazing into a key-hole, and when I asked her what she was doing, she re- plied that she was washing it and wanted to see if it was en- tircly clean. The key-hole may not have been clean enough to see through, but as she had neither soap nor water I con- cluded she lied—yes, hed ; for people do not usually wash key holes with their eyes. Hark! ( hear a footstep on the stairs! I well know Matilda’s cat-like tread. The cyclone draws near. I will see which way the wind blows and seek shelter from the storm under this table. (He conceals himself beneath the table. The door suddenly opens and MATILDA enters with dust-pan and broom. Matiupa. I thought I heard a voice as though some one Was having a little dialogue all to himself. Seems kind of Singular that I could have imagined it all. Some folks say that guilty consciences will talk in loud and thunderous ac- cents and upbraid them for doing what they shouldn’t ought | to have did, But this ere conscience couldn't have been mine, 16 THE DIME DIALOGUES. for mine zsn’¢ a guilty one, and I always do what I ought to nnd no questions asked. It was, certainly, very mysterious— Mr. Woodbine’s rushing off to the city this morning and not letting me or the rest of his family know just where he was going to and why he was going. But, then, men are so sly and cunning, and keep everything to themselves. Women are more open-hearted, candid and sincere, and te)l all they know. Mr. Woodbine has been doing a deal of writing lately, end he is as mysterious about that as about everything else. He generally keeps his office desk well locked; but, to-day, he seems to have left it wide open. Maybe he is planning and plotting some terrible crime, and it ought to be explored and seen into before dear Mrs. Woodbine and myself become mixed up in the matter, and arrested as his accomplices. What’s this? An open letter! Of course there’s never any- thing private into an open letter; and, if there is, the ends of justice must justify the meanness, and the good of the cause must answer for the rest. (Zakes letter from desk and reads :) ‘* Be sure and come to the office and bring ‘ Louise’ with you. I quite long to see her. If she is all you say of her we will in- troduce her to the world.” Now, if here isn’t a pretty mess of fish; and done to a turn, too! Who is this ’ere Louise 2 should just like to know? His wife’s name is Miranda, and mine is Matilda Ann, so that can't refer to ws. Let me see if I can call to mind any one around here bearing that particular affectionate cognomen. I don’t know of any except the Widow Markham, but then she wears a false front, and has lost all her teeth, and her sight failed long ago. She would be a pretty kind of a creature to present to the world; now, wouldn’t she? But when a person is in love there is no ac- counting for taste. I remember, now, that I did see the widow go by here this morning. Doubtless she was on her way to the cars to meet that designing masculine male monster. I’m very glad I’m not tied to one of the designing sex, for I should be a raving lunatic in a short. space of period. Mrs. Wood- bine ought to know of this, and if seems my bounden duty to tell her. But, then, she is s0 hard to convince, for I’ve tried to convince her many and many a time; but she always says she had too much confidence ever to doubt him. That's the very trouble; she has too much confidence in him altogether, ten times more than J have. I ceased to confide in him many a long time ago. (Hnter Mrs. Woopsrne.) Why, Mrs. Woodbine, is that you? I was just thinking about you, and speaking to myself of you, and here you come just at the very precise moment. Mrs. Woopsinez. There is some poet who sung: ‘‘ We speak of angels and hear the rustle of their wings.” M. Well, you are an angel, altho’ you haven’t the wings. But, you are rot entering paradise, it is more like descend- img into Hades, Prepare for the revelation. ? TOT — TOO CURIOUS FOR COMFORT, TF Mrs. W. Why, Matilda; why so much emotion? What does it all mean? Explain yourself and end this mystery! M. Read that! That is the cause of my emotion. That letter will tell what it all means. That letter will explain it- self; and, for further particulars, see small bills. (Hands the missive to Mrs. WOODBINE, who reads it and then hands it back.) And what do you say to that, and what do you think of it? Mrs. W. I do not think it is much to worry one, for the Louise in question may be no more than some pet animal, and you wouldn’t have me jealous of a cat or a dog, would you? I must say it is far from right for you to pry into my hus- —— notes and correspondence, as it appears you have one. M. (Crying.) There, now, don’t go and blame me. I wag ee it all in your interest and for your good—indeed I id! Mrs. W. There, Matilda, don’t cry. I will not blame you. Doubtless you have done only what you considered your duty; but I should need further proof to convince me that my Leonidas was guilty of the slightest indiscretion. Although I do find fault with him, I never doubt him, for doubting wives are the bane of husbands;-and, to me, Leonidas is all that is true, noble and good. _ He may be fond of a cat or dog, but it will not make him less fond of me. M. But, suppose it should be the Widow Markham? You know her name is Louise. Mrs. W. The idea is too absurd. To say nothing of her homely face and uncouth ways, she is old enough to be my husband’s mother. (During this speech Matiupa has gone to the desk and taken a sheet of paper therefrom, which she eagerly gazes upon.) Well, Matilda! What is the matter, now? Have you found any more cats and dogs for me to be jealous of? Perhaps you have come across a Brazilian ape this time? M. It’s worse than twenty apes of Brazil or any other Menagerie. Just see this! Here is a letter commencing “Dearest. Louise;” so, if she is the dearest he must have a Whole museum of Louises, and it’s signed ‘‘ Yours, forever. Leonidas.” Now, Leonidas isn’t a cat, or a dog, nor an ape, although a Leonidas must be a monkey to leave you to run after a Louise. And, see here, at the head there is a number —454—so he must have written to her 453 times before this. Mrs. W. Maybe it is the 454th Louise. Ah, Matilda, you never deserve to be married if you are going to be suspicious of your husband. M. And you are not going to read that letter? Mrs. W. No, no; a hundred times no. If my husband Wants me to know its contents he will show them to me him- Self; if he does not, then they are not worth showing. Maybe Imight be made miserable by learning their meaning without 18 THE DIME DIALOGUES. any explanations; so I prefer to remain happy In my igno- rance. Mr. W. Correct! M. Did you say ‘‘correct?” Mrs. W. It was not I. M. It sounded just like somebody saying something. Mrs. W. Might it not have been your conscience, Ma- tilda? M. I don’t think it is affected that way,ma’am. Itsound ed a good deal like Mr. Woodbine’s voice. Mrs. W. It could not have been his unless he telephoned it, for he is a good many miles away in tke city. M. It might have been is conscience. TZ'hat has a deal to answer for. Mr. W. Not so much as yours, M. Goodness me! It was the table-cloth! See! it’s a- moving! Whatever shall we do? It’s spirit presence, as sure as I’m a living sinner. I must scream! (Throws her apron over her head and gives a most piercing shriek. Mr. WoopBIne comes from his concealment and stands between MatiLDa and his wife.) Mr. W. Miranda, my true woman, I thank you for your trust in me! It is a trust that shall never be betrayed. I will let you into a secret. I have been endeavoring to compose a book; the title of the book is named for the heroine—who is not the Widow Markham—and, for the novelty of the matter, I gave my own first name to that of one of the characters. The note addressed to me was from my to-be publishers; the other was a sheet from the manuscript, which, of course, was paged—the number being 454. And now, you wretched speci- men of feminine humanity, bearing the cognomen of Matilda Ann, take that ridiculous piece of calicc from your face and tell me what you think of yourself, and what you have to say for = impudent scrutiny of my private affairs! M. I’m awful sorry; but, you know, circumstances told fearfully against you. Mr. W. But they wouldn’t have ‘‘told so fearfully against me” if you had minded your own business and had not gone te meddling with what was no cencern of yours. M. Well, as my good intentions do not seem to be appreci- ated here, I suppose [ must seek another situation; so I might as well go and pack up my little bundle, and take my pilgrim — and commence my journey anew over lifp’s troubled road. Mr. W. Perhaps your next situation may beat the State prison. a Do they want a matron, or a cook, or a evambermai¢ TOO CURIOUS FOR COMFORT, Mr. W. You may go to remain as an inmate, in the char- veter of a prisoner. M. I don’t know what you mean. Why, what have I done? 1 never have done anything crimentous! Mr. W. I have paid you many a week’s wages for what you have not done, You came to work, and, as you have done previous little work, you might be committed for obtain- ng money under false pretenses. But I will waive ail thas. Jidn’t you know that reading other people’s letters is an in- lictable offense, and that you could be put in jail a year or more for that? Mrs. W. Do not frighten the girl in that way. Let as forgive and forget. She did it all for my good, you knew, (Laughing.) Mr. W. Undid it all, you had better say. The ends must justify the means. I am a Spartan where my duty is concern- ed. The guilty should not be allowed to escape. I go to ful- All my duty. M. It isn’t any worse reading open letters than being a prying apy and eavesdropper under a table. So, now! x. W. The letters were not yours to read, Matilda, but the table was niyne to hide under, There is a vast difference, As I said before, I go to fulfill my duty. (Exit hastily.) M. Oh, Mrs. Woodbine, what do you think will become of me? Just to think of me a-wastin’ and a-pinin’ away the best vears of my life in a lonesome prison-cell! Why didn’t I give the policeman ayound the corner more encouragement when he came a-courting? It wouldn’t seem so hard, if you’ve got to be tooken up, to be tooken up by one’s own special individ- ual friend. It would seem more kind of sympathetical-like. (Re-enter Mr. Woopsink with HAWKINS.) Mr. W. There stands the culprit. Hawsrns. Sorry to hear it, and sorry that, in my capacity of an officer, I must arrest you. The crime of perusing other folks’ letters has become so common that the judge has been talled upon to inflict dire punishments for the same. I am afraid he may sentence you for life! M. Wouldn’t my youth, loveliness and innocence prepos- Sess the judge in my favor? H. Perhaps it might were I to be the judge; but the man before whom you will be tried is married to a second wife, who brought with her six daughters, so he has kind of soured against the female sex. M. Couldn’t you be bribed to let me escape to Canada? H. Young woman, I am quite ashamed of you! Are you Rot aware that Justice is incorruptible? _M. You don’t mean to say that this is all in sober, down- Tight earnest, and not all a make-believe to scare me? Bm W. Why shouldn't it be true? 20 THE DIME DIALOGUES, M. And I must be punished for such a little sin as that? H. There are no such things as little sins in the eyes of Justice. M. Oh, dear, dear! I didn’t think I was doing anything so awfully awful, and [’ll never do so again, nevermore! (Sits an chair and sobs somewhat hysterically.) Mr. W. There, there; dry your eyes. I think you have been punished enough, and can see how you might be led into committing greater wrongs and deeper sins, and what might be the consequences of the same. My friend, here, is not an officer. He, as publisher, came to see me about my book. | met him on the stairs and got him to enter into the little plot. You seemed so desirous of giving my wife a ‘‘ scare,” it seem- ed to me but fair for you to receive one in return, on the prin- ciple of paying you back in your own coin. M. Well, ’'m much obliged to you for the lesson, and I'll learn it by heart. In future, I’ll mind my own business. Mr. W. I did not care for their hopeless love, For I was an awful sinner; I ended each life, with a garden knife, And ate them beth up for my dinner. THE HIGHT LITTLE BOYS. THIRD BOY. In Nonsense Land, as I now will say, The cows dance jigs on the mantle-piece. The Fourth of July comes Christmas Day, And we make pop-corn of candle-grease. The chickens grow on the cranberry vines, And crowbar sauce is the best of jam; We eat clams’ legs in the soft-soap mines And fan ourselves with a bone of ham. FOURTH BOY. Did you know that the man in the moon is dead And gone to skate in the timber-cave? In a coughing fit he swallowed his head And picked his teeth with a music stave. The camel was mad and sawed off its tail, As the bang on its head was out of style; The rainbow married the polar whale, And they now keep house on the river Nile, FIFTH BOY. Five cats on a fence can make some noise, And | think ice cream is extra fine; We are the gangweed frisky boys, And eels are best for a fishing line. a My mother will jump if she sees a mouse; A boil on the nose is sweet to see; Never eat pies at a boarding-house; A pancake cannot swallow a bee. SIXTH BOY. If you are sick, and your head gives out, And the scarlet mumps will bite your jaw; You'd better lie still and not raise a shout, But wait for the doctor to feel your paw. A rocking-horse will cure a cold, A bicycle’s good for a pounded hand; Sore eyes are cured by a lump of gold— Such is the way in Nonsense fanahg SEVENTH BOY. There are no dreams in Nonsense Land, For the people never have time to sleep, They jump for joy at a solemn band, ¥ And the circus will always make us weep There are no plants in Nonsense Land, But the coon will wear a long-tail coat; And the editor’s book is made of sand, And ducks and geese can cast a vote. ’ ‘ ‘ THE DIME DIALOGUES, ‘RIGHTH BOY. Now what do we do in Nonsense Land? We drive the cow on the August ice; We saw the wood with a zigzag hand, And cool our toes with red-hot rice: We pound the candles and dig for eels, And gaze at sharks in the ambient air; While the lonely bug to the forest steals; With pickled limes we dye our hair. ALL THE BOYS. But we are sick of the Nonsense Land, And going to leave it right away; We ask you now to lend us a hand— For a gentle word we truly pray. We'll steer our bark for another shore, And quickly, too, we’ll move from thence; _ Leave Nonsense Land forevermore And come and dwell in the Land of Sense. et . -- HOW THEY SEE THE WORLD. FOR FIVE LITTLE GIRLS. FIRST GIRL. Oh, once there was a maiden—Cinderella was her name; She was poor, but she was happy, and no one did she blame Her step-sisters always hated her because she was so sweet; Unkindness was her lot in life; naught but scolding did she meet, Until her good god-mother came and sent her to the ball; Though many fair ones there were seen, she was the best of all. ; A prince, at last, she married, and her life was full of glee, If I could be a fairy maid, CinderellaI would be — . * SECOND GIRL. Oh, once there was a maiden, Morgianna she was named; For doing deeds of bravery most justly was she famed, For she killed a daring robber, and the forty thieves, as well, Her master she did save from death, as fairy tale doth tell. _ The country she so freed from thieves, she was a slave no more; ; ; ‘ ‘Her master’s son became her mate; rich fortune was in store. I found her picture in a book—she was just sweet to see! If Icould be a story girl, Morgianna J would be. HOW THEY SEE THE WORLD. 3 THIRD GIRL. Oh, once there was a maiden, and so beautiful was she, When she was born, her father said: ‘‘ Beauty ” her name should be. Her father met a cruel beast all in the forest wide, Who spared his life if he would send the girl to be hig bride. The girl, at last, consented, for she loved her father dear, And she really loved the beast at last—now, doesn’t that sound queer? At length, the beast became a man; a prince of men was e;— If.Z could be a story maid, that maid {’d wish to be. FOURTH GIRL. Oh, once there was a maiden, and she slept a hundred years, But the world kept going on the same with all its hopes and fears, And all the court slept just the same—and there was quite a throng— I’m sometimes very sleepy, but I couldn’t sleep so long. The prince awoke her with a kiss, the rest awoke themselves; I don’t see how they knew the time; perhaps ‘twas told by elves. ‘When I am very sleepy and all things bother me, If J could be a fairy maid that maid I’d wish to be. FIFTH GIRL. Oh, once there was a woman, and her name was Nightingale, In doing deeds of charity she ne’er was known to fail; And when a cruel war did rage, she nursed the wounded brave; Her gentle hands were busy—her life mission was to save, In England she is living, and her name is loved by all; Tn sickness and in sorrow she is first at duty’s call. You may wish to be a maiden or a sprite in fairy tate, But, as for me, I’d wish to be sweet Florence Nightingale. f ALL BUT FIFTH GIRL Oh, Bessie has the wisest wish; ’tis noble and ’tis good; And she should surely have that wish if anybody could. These fairy tales are never true, although they lessons teach; But deeds like Florence Nightingale’s are not beyond our : reach. There are many things that we can do, much trouble we can save— The tired hands we might let rest, the aching head might lave. Let’s be content with what we are, and we shall plainly see That God will put us in the place just where we ought to be, THE DIME DIALOGUES, THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE; OR, A VERY INQUISITIVE GIRL. Characters:—Dr. ROBERT GARRISON, Mr. RoBERT WaALypo, Mrs. WaxLpo, GERTRUDE GARRISON, LitiAs SCHEMER- HORN, servants, policeman, baby, nurse. Scene I.—A physician's parlor for patients, nicely furnished. GERTRUDE, sitting in easy-chatr by table, dressing a large doll. Soliloquizes : GERTRUDE. Well, I suppose I'll have to sit here half the morning now! My brother has been called away to set a bro- ken leg one whole hour before his usual time for going out to visit his patients; Michael had to go to drive, and Kitty’s gone out on an errand. I hone I'll at least get some fun out of it! How I do love to dress dolls! Just as well as when I was six years old! My brother calls it inherited maternal instinct— but I don’t care what he calls it! (isses doll and tries on sash.) I'll dress up the skeleton he’s got in that closet, some day, and see how he'll like that! (Holds doll up and studies effect.) They do say there's a skeleton in the closet of every house; but, ’m sure there’s none in ours—except that old wired rack-o’-bones hanging up there,(nodding toward door). My brother is simply perfect! He hasn’t a fault in the world! I don’t believe he ever did a bad— (Knock, and enter Cook.) Well, Bridget? Bripaet. Some one rung an’ rung, miss, an’ sure I had to ‘o to the door, though it’s ag’in’ me principles on washing- ce an’ that Kitty had no business to go out, an’ here’s a note he left fer the docther, miss. (Hands the note.) G. Thanks, Bridget. Kitty will return in a short time; if I hear the bell again P'll go myselt. (BripGxT retires, pacified.) Oh, dear! I wonder if I ought to look at the note? It’s not sealed, and it may be something which requires immediate attention. I guess—I’ll—just peep—and see. (Draws note from envelope, and reads aloud :) ‘‘ DEAR Doctor:—At last I have the subject which you requested me to find for you. It is fresh; and, I think, will give satisfaction. Will bring it around at ten to-night, when all is quiet. Will thatdo? E. E.” The subject? Oh, horror! Does my brother have to use them yet? Bring it here to-night? I declare, it makes me ill—if he does eoy it is fresh! I’ve a great mind to hide in that closet with old bare-bones, to-night, and just see what goings-on there are in this office! If I could get Lottie to hide with me I'd doit. There’s that bell! I suppose I will have to play: door-tender to save cook’s feelings. (Goes out, and in a moment returns, a letter in her hand.) _Another note! There! I may as ~ THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE. 35 well die for an old sheepasalamb. I'll just peep—from a sense of duty—to find if it’s pressing. (Takes out note, and reads :) ‘‘No. 85- West 48d Street. Docror GARRISON :— We have concluded to take your advice. Alas! it is too true; our Rosa is going mad. Her delicate nature, her sensitive nerves, have proved too much for her. After a fierce struggle with our love for her we have yielded to your sensible sugges- tion. Better dead than mad. We must be cruel in order to be kind. Poison is the safest instrument Please bring the powders with you this morning. Or chloroform! Doctor, will not chloroform answer the purpose? Our unhappy dar- ling is chained to her bed. You are right, doctor; when such a frightful emergency arises, we have the right to take life in our own hands. My poor wife is still unreconciled, but I am determined. Do not keep us rr Roruscurip.” (Letter drops to floor, and GERTRUDE clasps her hands.) Can it be pos- sible that my brother, under any circumstances however har- rowing, would consent to become a party to a deed like this? Oh, terrible! He shall not! Twill send out for a policeman and place this letter in his hands. No; I cannot do that.. I love my brother too much to cause his arrest and disgrace. Oh, how miserable I am— (Ring, buzz and whirr of telephone.) And there goes that distracting telephone! I hope 1 am not going to hear any more of Robert’s medical affairs! Well, I must attend to it. (Goes to wall, puts cup to ear, and listens.) Hallo, yourself! (Repeats what is said through the instrument.) “Ts that you, Robert? Are you quite alone, darling?” Good- ness gracious! he must be really engaged to that Miss Schem- erhorn!- I thought as much; but he ought to have told me. (Listens and repeats :) ‘‘T am dying to see you, darling! Why did you not come last night? Ah! these secret marriages are wretched things! I wish we had waited until we could have wedded in the face of the whole world.” (GERTRUDE springs back and throws up eyes and hands ; then darts again to tele- phone, listens, and repeats:) ‘‘ Will vou come to-night?” (Answers in deep voice, to imitate her brother :) ‘Do you need ‘me, particularly?” (Listens and repeats :) ‘‘What a question to ask your poor little wife! You have not been here for a week! Why, Robert, our baby is cutting a tooth, and I think it needs lancing.” Our baby! Ha, ha, ha! This is learning my brother’s character with a vengeance. Our baby! cutting a tooth! Ha, ha, ha! (hysterically.) I’ve found you out! (Takes up cup, listens and repeats :) ‘‘ You must come, darling! I’m so lonely, and baby misses you, too; I’m sure of it. When say ‘papa’ he looks toward the door. Am I keeping you? Well, by-by till even: baby says, ta-ta.” Well, I never! Robert secretly married, and got a baby! And I’ve been wasting my time dressing dolls! I guess I'll ferret out ‘that baby before long. Goodness gracious! I wish I had gotten 36 “THE DIME DIALOGUES, her address—but, how could 1? (Walks up and down ahile, too excited to return to her chair. Telephone rings again ; has- tens to it, eaclaiming:) My brother’s wife again! Wants to know if the doctor isin. Irecognize her voice. (Listens and 2¢ eats’) ‘‘ Please tell him to come as quickly as possible to the Renaissance Apartment House, Madison avenue, second floor, No. 4; infant in spasms with cutting a tooth.” There! What’s to be done now? Robert won’t be home for three whole hours. What if my dear little nephew should die? It would break my heart. I’U go myself! He'll be angry, I dare say, at first; but I’m not going to let the little fellow die. J know what to do for teething spasms—l’ve heard my brother say—and I’m going this very minute! (Rushes off stage.) (Curtain. falls.) Scene IL.—Parlor in apartment house. Mrs. Waupo prettily dressed, and alone. Mrs. Watpo. Thank Heaven, baby is better! I wonder, however, that the doctor has not come yet. (Knock at door.) ‘That is probably he. (Opened by SERVANT.) Servant. Dr. Garrison was out, madam, but his sister is here. She says she knows what to do for the child. (Smiles.) Mrs. W. Howcurious! Well, since she has come, let her in. I can do no less. (Enter GERTRUDE, tn hat and wrap. Rushes up and kisses Mrs. Waupo, who regards her with astonishment.) G. You are surprised and startled, of course! But I could not keep away, knowing— Pray, pray, how 4s the little dar- ling, anyway? Mrs. W. You come in the doctor’s place? Why, you are a mere child! G. I know it—only fifteen. Never mind that. I can tell you what to do with baby just as well as Robert. Is he bet- ter? Iam dying to see him! Did you name him Robert? Oh, I know I shall love him to distraction! Do not look so alarmed (as Nursk enters from bedroom with babe in her arms:— big doll will answer instead of real baby, and add to the fun). I know everything (in mysterious whisper), Yet, I shall for- give you and be good to you, for Robert’s sake! Mrs. W. Oh, then, you are Ais sister? The servant told me you were the doctor’s sister. So I expected to meet,a ma- ture lady, not you, you sweet child, So, you are my dear Robert’s sister? You will be friends with me? How charm- ing! But, how strange he never told me about you / Neo: The child’s in a fit! G. Get him a bath as hot as he can bear— (taking off hat, THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE. wrap and gloves, and receiving the infant in her lap)—relaxes the muscles. So does chloroform. (Pours something from bottle on her handkerchief ani holds to baby’s nose.) See, he is coming out of it, already! Now, I'll just lance the gum. (Does so.) My first case! I did well, did I not?, Oh, how I love him, already! (Knock, servant announces ‘DR. GARRISON.”’) (Enter Doctor.) Docror. Good morning, Mrs. Waldo. How is the boy? You here, Gertrude? G. (Watching him with eager eyes.) Yes. Why don’t you kiss her, Robert? You ought to be ashamed not to kiss her,, brother, when you haven’t seen her for a week! Don’t mind me. Jknow Aut! You needn’t blush, either of you. Dr. What under the sun is the matter with you, Ger- trude? Mrs. Waldo will think you out of your head. What brought you here? (Zhen, with a start.) Where did you get that ring? G. Miss Schemerhorn gave it to me to return to you. Dr. Lilias!. The ring I gave her last night! G. Yes. I stopped_on my way here and told her all. Oh, Robert, how cowld you? I never thought my brother could be wicked! Y don’t blame you for this secret marriage—and I love the baby!—but, to tell Lilias you love her, after all! (Knock. Servant opens door and looks in with troubled face ; is followed by Miss Livtas SCHEMERHORN, 7n street costume.) Ser. Sbe would push in; J can't help it, ma’am. Linras, (Zo Mrs. Waupo.) He pretended you were not at home, but | Anew you were! Yes, it is as I expected! You are here, Robert! Dr. Certainly, Lilias; I am here as a physician, doing my duty to one of my patients. I called to see the sick infant. Why you and Gertrude are here is not so easily explained. I am puzzled, and | fear Mrs. Waldo is more so. L. (Scornfully.) Here as a doctor! The child seems very il! G. It was ill, Lilias. But, if you put them in hot water and give them a little chloroform— Dr. You seem to have put me in hot water, too, Gertrude, and I dont come out of it. Let me feel your pulse; I should fear you were going to have brain-fever. We owe some apology to Mrs. Waldo fur this extraordinary invasion. G. Not at all. Not at all. Drop that pretense, my dear brother. I tell you, the cat is out of the bag. Some apology to her! Oh, yes,_ha, ha, ha! (Hysterd- cally.) Well, sir, will you, or J, make the explanation? Per- haps Mrs, Waldo will be delighted to learn that you have kept your marriage a secret from me and engaged yourself to me! Dr. My marriage! Lilias, have you, too, gone mad? L, Gertrude, show her the proof of your brother’s treachery. 88 " THE DIME DIALOGUES. There, do you see the beautiful solitaire he put on my finger only last evening? And he is married to you know who! (Mrs. WaALpo stares at each in turn, looks terrified, runs, as if to hide herself behind the door. Whizz—buzzz—bang. She has telephoned to her husband in Wall stret. Says to herself as she recrosses to other door :) : Mrs. W. I must be prudent and wary. hese people are ali mad. Robert orders me to send ont {cv the police. I will — tell the servant. (Opens tall door and “ohispers to man. Re- V turns to guests with forced smile.) Can yourselves, friends Ihave sent for cakes and ice crea, they will be here in a | moment or two. Take seats. I’/ cclieve you of the baby (ta Gertrude.) _ Nurse, take the little ‘ellow into the bedroom. I hope you will partake of them “when they arrive. J G. (Kissing baby and letting im go.) Thanks, with pleasure. — L. Never! They would thoke me! I cannot accept the bread and salt of hospitality from you—from Robert’s wife! — Mrs. W._I said cakes ead cream. Tell me, how did you learn that I was Roberi’s wife? (Aside.) When will they come?’ : L. You own it, then? Mrs. W. It would be useless to deny it longer. And he promised me, the last time he came, that he would soon ac | knowledge it. He thirks his uncle has now made his will iv his favor, and that he will forgive us. a Dr. Some one has been making trouble. (Strikes his brow.* I am confused—I do not understand—I am bewildered. i Mrs. W. (In dismay.) Try, try, to hold on to your rea son, doctor, unti! the cakes and cream arrive. Dotry! Ah, thank Heaven, here they come! (Door opens and three police- men march into room.) 2 OFFICER. Foajth an’ which of yees am I to arrist? Mrs. W. (fuintly.) Allof them, (Zhe three advance, and each grabs w prisoner by the arm.) { Dr. Unhand me! L. How dare you! G. Please, please, don’t: {Door bursts open, enter Mr. Ropert Warpo, and looks about arta with sharp, business air ) a Mr. Watno. Hold! There is some mistake! Officer, these personsare all my friends. There is something strange in all this! Miss Schemerhorn, I am delighted to see you here. And my friend, Dr. Garrison! Heavens! Baby is not dangercus? s eae ry Mrs. W. No, but these people are. 7 G&G. Fhursting into wild laughter.) Is your name Robert too, Mr. Waldo? And the number of your uncle’s house i¢ 4? West Blank street, while ours is 57—and I have made TOO MUCK SIDB-sHoOw, oY smd—rid—ridiculous mis—take! That’s all! Oh, brother, you will never forgive me, I know, but Mrs. Waldo. tele- phoned to owr number, this morning, by mistake, and she called you husband, and talked about the baby, and so—I — thought—(the remainder of her explanation is drowned in peala of laughter fron all.) G. (When they wre calmer.) And oh, brother, are you go- ing te have a—a subject brought to the house? Dr. Yes, a subject for that lecture I have to deliver nex: week, ‘ G. And, did you poison the poor young lady who was go- ing mad this morning at No. 54- Fifth avenue? Dr. The poor young lady? I chloroformed Rothschild’s little Skye terrier, Rosa, who had symptoms of hydrophobia. What do you mean? / G. Imean, I'll never attend office for you again. ma goose, that’s very evident! a big, big goose! Mrs. W. But you'll have some cakes and cream with me, after all} (Curtain falls.) TOO MUCH SIDESHOW; , OR, RUNNING AN EXHIBITION _ Oharacters :-EDWARD Horr, JouHn Barney, MARK Mansox, Wrix11ram Ray, Frep ALLEN, schoolboys ; JAcon SCHLIFER, Kaiser NaGuin, Dutchmen ; JuMBo, w darky. Scene.—A stage. Hnter Epowarp Horr. Epwarp. Ladies and gentlemen:—We are glad to sec so many of you present this evening and we will endeavor to make our performances so entertaining that you will not re. gret you have come. I want to say, however, that you must hot expect toc much. Many of us this evening appear before n audience for the first time, and of course we will feel some- What embarrassed while giving our performances. But, as [ Said, we are glad to see so many of you here—your smiting faces will cheer us and assist us in our pleasant task of en- eavoring to entertain you. .I will now introduce Joha ailey, who will give a recitation entitled ‘‘ The Fireman.” (EDWARD retires.) THE DIME DIALOGUES Joun. (Oomes forward and commences to speak: “The city slumbers. O’er its mighty walls Night’s dusky mantle soft and silent falls; Sleep o’er the world but waves its wand of lead, And ready torpors wrap each sinking head. Stilied ig the stir of labor and of life; Hushed is the hum, and tranquilized the strife Man is at rest, with all his hopes and fears; The young forget their sports, the old their cares The grave are careless; those who joy or weep All rest contented on the arm of sleep. “Sweet is the pillowed rest of beauty now, And slumber smiles upon her tranquil brow; Her bright dreams lead her to the moonlit tide, Her heart’s own partner wandering by her side; *Tis summer's eve; the soft gales scarcely rouse The low-voiced ripple and the rustling boughs; And, faint and far, some minstrel’s melting tone Breathes to her heart a music like her own. *¢ When, hark! Oh, horror! what a crash is there! What shriek is that which fills the midnight air? Tis fire! *tis fire! She wakes to dream no more; The hot blast rushes through the blazing door; The dun smoke eddies round; and hark! that cry. ‘Help! help! . Will no one aid? I die, I die!’ She seeks the casement; shuddering at its hight She turns again; the fierce flames mock her flight: Along the crackling stairs they fiercely play, And roar, exulting, as they seize their prey. ‘Help! help! Will no one come?’ She can no more, But, pale and breathless, sinks upon the floor.” (Enter Jacos ScutiEr, roughly dressed.) Jacop. Shoost sdop now! Vat for you hollerin’ so pig loudt when you haf peen in my melon-batch? Tells me dot! Joun. (Turning and facing Jacos.) I wasn’t in yous meion-patch., Jacos. You vas in my melon-batch! You vas! you vas. Don’t you say you vasn’t in my melon-batch vhen I know you yas! Who tore de vines und took de melons den—um? Joun. I don’t know, but I know I didn’t. Hadn’t you better get out? Don’t you see we are having a school ex hibition? Jacos. I con’t care vat you are hafin’; you vas in my melon-batch sure as anyt’ing, und I vill make you bay for it. Joun. (Angrily.) say I was not in your melon-patch. Do you understand that? Now get off the stage and let us go on with our exhibition. ’ TOO MUCH SIDE-SHOW. 4i Jacos. Vot's dot you say? Vot for you told me to git out of dis? Hafn’t I shoost as good a right to pe here as any od. der pody else? I vill hunt up de t’ief dot took my melons if I haf to go into all de sgool ixhibitions in de coundry, Now, vot you t.ink of dot? Marx. (Jn the audience.) Throw that melon-raiser off the stage and let the exhibition go on. Jacos. (Turning to the audience.) Who's dot? Who's gifin’ me impedence righd here in dis meetin’? Hafn’t I gota sight to look out for my melor-batch? M. Your melon-patch isn’t here Take a friend’s advice aud make yourself scarce. Jacos. Idon’t vant any back talk from a poy. You petter rind your own peesness. Maype it vas you dot vas in my melon-batch. M. You say that I stole your melons, do you? Jacos. Shoost as like as not. I t’inks you are a pad poy, anyhow (Re-enter EDWARD.) E. This has gone on long enough. I am managing this exhibition, and I propose to have the performances continued without any further interruptions. (Zo Jacos.) Mr. Schii- fer, you will please retire from the stage. We are having a school exhibition and we don’t want to be interrupted. Jacos. Vell, I don’t care vot you are hafin’. 1 haf shoost as good a righd to be here as any odder pody else. Isn’t dis a free gountry, und isn’t it de land of de free und de home of de prave? But you are disturbing this meeting, and I could have you arrested. Jacos. Haf me arrested? Vell, dot’sa good shoke! Why don’t you know I’m huntin’ afder de poys dot vas in my melon-batch? KE. You have a perfect right to hunt for the boys who took a melons, but you have no right to come here to do so. ou are disturbing this meeting, and if you do not leave in ten minutes I will take you before a Justice of the Peace. Jacos, Vot vould you dake me dere for? Does de Shus- tice of de Beace know anyt’ing apout de poys dot stole my melons? M. (In the audience.) Throw that Dutchman off the stage and let the exhibition go on. Jacozn. Who’s dot? It’s de same poy dot hollered pefore. I pelief dot poy vas one of dem dot stole de melons. ILLIAM. (Rises in the audience.) If Mr. Schlifer has lost 8ome melons he has a perfect right to come here and endeavor to find them. Jacos. I isn’t afder de melons, but shoost de poys dot took THE DIME DIALOGUES. de melons. Dot vasn't righd in de poys. It vas awful mea und pad for dem to steal melons from a hard-vorkin’ man. ’ W. If the boys who took Mr, Schlifer’s melons will jus! own up to it, there will be no more trouble. q Jacos. Dot’s it! dot’s it! Shoust let Gem own up to it und maype I von't pe hard on dem. M. Throw that Dutchman off the stage, and let the exhibi- tion go on, Jacos. (Turning and shaking his fist at Marx.) You can’s do it! you can’t do it! You is von awful pad poy, und I pe fieve you vas in de melon-batch. Say, now, didn’t you steal my melons? M. Oh, you're a darby! 3 Jacos. Vot's dot? me had petter shoost pe careful or 1 vill haf you arrested py de law. E. Mr. Schlifer, weare iaving a school exhibition, If yo will take a seat here at the back of the stage and wait until the performances are over, we will endeavor. to find out wh0 was in your melon-patch. (Places chair at back of stage.) Jacos. Vell, dot’s all righd. I'll sit down and vait avhile- (Seats himself.) Now you can go on mit your sbeeches, JoHN. (Commences again to speak :) ‘* Will xo one save thee? Yes, there yet is one Remains to save, when hope itself is gone; When all have fled, when all but he would fly, The fireman comes, to rescue or to die. He mounts the stair—it wavers “neath his tread; He seeks the room, flames flashing round his head; He,bursts the door; he lifts her prostrate frame, And turns again to brave the raging flame. The fire-blast smites him with its stifling breath; The fallizg timbers menace him with death; The sinking floors his hurried step betray, And ruin crashes round his desperate way; Hot smoke obscures, ten thousand cinders rise, Yet still he staggers forward with his prize; He leaps from burning stair to stair. On! oni Courage! One effort more and all is won! : The stair is passed—the blazing hallis braved; ~ Stili on! yet on! once more! Zhank Heaven she* sured |” 4 (Joun retires, and Epwarv comes forward.) E. We will now have a declamation by Fred Allen. T subject is ‘‘ Emmet’s Vindication.” 5 (Epwarp seats himself at back /, stage, and FRED comes for ward, 3 Frep. ‘‘My Lords:—What have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law? + su il 10 oe TOO MUCH SIDE-SHOW. 43 have nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor that it will become me to say with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you are here to pronounce and | must abide by. But I have that to say which interests me more thaa life, and which you have labored to destroy. 1 have much to sey why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it.” (inter Karser Nacin, roughly dressed, As he comes upon the stage he sces JACOB, and commences ta talk to him.) F. (Continuing :) ‘‘ Were I only to suffer death after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur,” Kaiser. (Speaking while Prep is speaking the above.) Hello, Yawcub, you here too? Vot are you huntin’ afder? Anyt’ing gone wrong over to your blace? Mine leedle white-und-odder- color dog isn’t around apout home dis efenin’, und I t’inks some of de pad poys of dis sgool has stole him, fF. (Zurning to Eywanv.) If Lam to speak, this evening, I don’t want to be interrupted. M. (In the audience.) Another Dutchman on the stage! I think we are having a kind of Dutch circus instead of a school exhibition. E. (Zo Katser.) What do you want, sir? K. I vant my leedle vhite-und-odder-color dog. He is von awful good dog, und he has not peen arvundt de house dis efenin’. He nefer fails to be aroundt at supper-dime, und dere Must pe somet’ings wrong putty bad. 1 t'inks some of you pad poys of dis sgool-house has stole my vhite dog, und if you has, [ vill git up an awful pig fuss und knock t’ings aroundt awful pad. (Angriiy.) Vot for you can’t mind your own Peesness und let my vhite dog alone—um?_ Dis sgool-house is a pig nuisance. Dere’s a lot of poys comes here shoost to steal Vhite dogs und— Jacos. Und to steal vattermelons, Tish putty mad apout fay melons, und I shoost vant to know vhere de poy is dot Yas in my batch und stole de melons und dramped all ofer de Vines. M. Go ahead with your speech, Fred, and let the Dutch -4nen talk at the back of the stage. E. Yes, Fred, you may proceed, and when they find that We are not listening to them, they may subside. (FRED commences again, and while he speaks Katser and JAcoB talk to each other and gesticulate violently. They grow louder and louder as they proceed, and in a short time 1’ RED ts com- pelled to stop. F. (Oontinues:) ‘But the sentence of law which delivers thy body to the executioner will, through the ministry of that 44 HE DIME DIALOGUES. law, labor. in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy; or there must be guilt somewhere—whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe, posterity must determine. The man dies but his memory lives. That mine may not perish—that it may live in the respect of my country- men—lI seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged against me.” (FRED stops.) M. Throw those cenfounded Dutchmen off thé stage or they'll spoil the exh b°tion. Jacos. (Shaking his fist at Marx.) Vot’s dot you say? Now you had petter look out You are von pad poy, und I pelief you are de poy dot stole my melons und tramped de vines all to smash. Und shoost as like as not you are de poy dot stole Kaiser’s leedle vhite dog. W. (In the audience.) Mr. Schlifer has lost some water: melons and Mr. Nagle has lost a dog; it is right that they should seek for their property and endeavor to find the perpe- trators of the mischief. Couldn’t you stop the exhibition for awhile until these men are satisfied, and then, I presume, they will retire and allow you to proceed with the perform- ances, Jacos. Dot's it! dot’s righd! You are a good poy! K. Yes, dot is righd! I vants to know vhere my leedle vhite-und-odder-color dog is. Maype de poor leedle fellow is starvin’ to death. M. (Whistles contemptuously.) Whew! Stop the perform- ances for a couple of Dutchmen! I never heard of such @ thing before. it I was managing this affair I’d hoist them off the stage! Jacos. (Shaking his fist at Marx.) Shoost dry it! shoost dry it! b. Gentlemen, I think it would be better for you to retire and allow us to continue our exhibition. You cannot accom- plish anything here in regard— K. Im goin’ to haf my dog—my leedle vhite dog. (Lowdly) Who stole my dog? Shoost sbeak righd oud. Jacos. Und 1 vant to know apout de vattermelons. Who took dem, eh? Und who vas it dot tramped de vines all aroundt to smash? I vant to know putty kvick. M. Throw those Dutchmen off the stage, and let the exhib- ition go on! Jacos, (Angrily.) I dells you dwice or t’ree dimes dot you had petter shut up! You are de poy dot vas in my melon- batch und stole de melons und tramped de vines. M. Ah! you say that, do you? K. Und you vas de poy dot stole my leedle vhite-und- odder-color dog. Shoost pring him righd pack. You say I stole your dog, do you? K. Yes, Ido. You're shoost a enough to steal anyt’ing. | 700 1_JCH SIDE-SHOW, 45 M. (Zo Jacop) And you say I stole your melons? Jacos. Yes, I do. You is a pad poy, und you vill steak dogs or melons or anyt’ing you can get your hands on. M. Allright. Now I'll go toa Justice of the Peace, take out a warrant, and have you arrested for accusing me falsely of theft. ~ Jacos. Oh, t’under! don’t do dot! I vill dake it all pack. x, No, don’t do dot. I didn’t mean anyt’ing, but I thought you stole de dog. I viil dake it all pack. M. No, you will not be allowed to take anything back. I’L show you that it will not do to accuse anybody and everybody with stealing. And, in addition to this, you have disturbed this meeting, and the law will take hold of you for that. Jyacos. Oh, cracious! I vish I hadn’t said not’ing; dot’s so} K. Ivish I had kept avay from de sgool exhibition. Oh, cracious! I’m afraid dot de leedle dog is gittin’ me into drouple (To Marx.) I dake it all pack; dct dog vas ro goot, anyhow M. You can’t take it back now. K. Let us get out of dis. (Heit Jacos and Kaiser, very much frightened.) M. Now, proceed with the exhibition. E. (Coming forward.) Ladies and gentlemen, this un- pleasant intrusion has much marred the order of our exer- cises, but now that the stupid intruders are gone, we will— (Enter JomBo with a little dog led by a string, and a bag on his back, containing what might be a big watermelon.) JumsBo. Hello, bosses! Is you habin’ a jubilee? E. Oh, go away; don’t vou see you are intruding? JumpBo. Look a-heah; ain’t a nigga jist as gocd as a white man in de eye ob de law? M. (From audience.) 1 would chuck him out! JumsBo, Wood chuck! Ya—ya! dat’s w’at dis daiky likes. Show me— E. Yes, I'll show you. There’s the door. JumsBo. In course it is! S’pos’n’ I don’t know a do’ from & gate, or de fence bars? , M. Put the darky out! JumpBo, Yes, it’s pooty dark out. But, I say, boys (puis ag down on floor) dar’s mo’ fun to de squar’ inch in dis yer dorg dan in any circus ye ebor see d, an’ dis exhibition’s gwan to ke. M. A nigger show, evidently. Why don’t some one on the stage— JumMBo. Jess so; on de stage, dis dorg would be biggis’ Buccess— E. (Taking him by the arm.) Will you dcpart? cs JumMBo. Sart’in. De part w’ot I takes is five dollars fer de org, an’— ML Call the police! That dog is Kaiser’s dog which that sag ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES. flarky has stolen, and I'll bet a hat that bag has m it one of © Jake Schilifer’s, watermelons. 7 JumBo, Oh, de good Lord, you’se an awfulest liar, you is, -an’I kin lick yer exhibition outen its boots—I kin. (Seizes — bag, and still holding dog by string, makes a dash at all on soge 28 he swings tt aloft. All leave stage in confusion.) Stole ae dorg, did 1? Stole Jake Schlifer’s watermillions, did 1? Ch, \’se en exhibition, I is! M. Potice! Police! Jumpo. Come along, dorg! Does ye want ter compermisc ge’self by an interview wid der p’lice. Come erlong, I say) (Reit, dragging dog after him.) (Re-enter EDWARD.) E. La/lies and gentlemen, I am sorry, to announce that ous exhibition is a failure. hat with— M. Two Dutchmen, a nigger and a dog— 4 E. What with these outrageous invasions of our rignig — and—and— | 4 M. Jake Schlifer’s watermelons. E. And the spoiled spirit of the occasion, our carefully pre- pare? exercises for your entertainment have so miscarried— M. Like a melon in a bag— ' KE. That we shall have to decline to proceed any furtyer with the exercises, so I bid you good-night. (Zrit.) (Curtain.) } —_—__—_—___++_-—____—. HOW MRS. PONDEROUS WAS PAID; oR, TWO WAYS TO LOOK AT LIFE. FOR FOUR YOUNG LADIES. fharacters :—Mrs. PonpERovws, keeper of lodging-house ; Mrs. West, the “friend in need ;” MILLICENT, *‘ sunshine ;” BELLA, ‘‘ shadow.” : ScENE.—A meagerlyfurnished room. Mriuicent discovered sewing. After a somewhat weary sigh, she repeats the follow- tng Wines : MILLICENT. “The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the moldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, ‘ And the day is dark and dreary.” —- I wonder if Longfellow was sad when he wrote those lines, and. what it was that made him so? He may have had his HOW MRS. PONDEROUS WAS PAID, 47 ' troubles, but he had his greater compensations; I do not think he had to contend with poverty as sister and I have done. Oh, life was once so joyous to us, when we had money, parents, home and friends! They are all gone now; some Never to return. Ah, well; matters might be worse, and so long as sister and I are together I shall not complain, because We can manage to make a living between us, and we ought to be thankful for that. Yet, when I think of what we have een, and what, we now are, I cannot help feeling the ful force of the second verse of Longfellow’s poem: “My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, anc: .he wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the moldering past, But the hopes of my youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary.” 1 wonder why sister remains away so long? I hope nothing tas happened to her, for I could not live without her. I must Sheer up and not have the mopes when she comes home. She looks so much after the shadows of life it is my mission to show her the sunshine. (Hnter BELA, who immediately runs her sister, throws herself at her feet and sobs hysterically.) hat is the matter, Bella? You must not give way so. Tell Ihe, dear, what has happened? Betua. I wish I was dead and out of the way; that is What I wish! The world is not a beautiful world; it is a vile and wicked one, and is made so by the people. 1 haven't any Wish to live longer. The river looked so deep and peaceful, 4s I crossed the bridge; it seemed to invite me to rest in it. And I would have done so, but I thought of you and how you Might be lonesome without me; for, if no one else cares for Me, I know I shall always have your love. (Rises.) As we have lived together, let us die together, locked in each other's arms. Come, now, Sister Sunshine, to the river. _ M. Do not talk so wildly, and wickedly, or I shall believe Your senses have deserted you. Sit you down there and tell Me the cause of your new distress. We have borne much and We can bear more. B. No, we cannot. My faith is dead and my hope lost. You know how we worked night and day sewing for Mrs. Macklin, and how, when the clothes were done, she put off Paying until to-day, when she said I should surely have the Money. : M. And has she put you off again? B. Worse than that. She and all her family started for Europe yesterday, and will be away fora year. She left no Money, and she left no message for us—so that upstart of a Ousekeeper there stated. She almost slammed the door in May face, Oh, it did make me so heart-sick when I thought 48 THE DIME DIALOGUES. how you and I, so short a time ago, were welcome visitors to just such houses as that. I know I’m of a very resentful dis- position; I felt as though I’d like to have my fingers on Mrs. Macklin’s throat for about five minutes. M. I grieve to hear you talk so. Leave her to a Higher Power. Remember: «“‘The mills of the gods grind slowly, Yet they grind exceeding small; But with justice stands He waiting; With exactness grinds He all.” B. It will take more than your poetical quotations to con- vince me that everything is ordered for the best. Look at Mrs. Macklin and the way she has treated us and see the suc- cess in life she has; and then turn to the opposite side of the picture and see us, and how hard we strive to be honest and to do our duty, keep out of debt all we can, and the little we do wwe we pay as fast as we get paid ourselves. You may talk of a wise and just Providence; but I have lost my faith and helief in Providence. Why does a just Providence allow such things to be? Why should we suffer and Mrs. Macklin and such creatures as she prosper? M. Such sentiments might come from an Ingersoll or a Tom Paine, but it pains me to hear them from my own sister. And you don’t mean one word of all you have said; you know you don’t. We always have been provided for, and why shouid we not always be? B. Well, and haven’t we worked for all we have, and now xost all we earned? M. Well, again, and can’t we work, just as we have done? Who found us the work for our hands to do and the health with which to do it? Who but our Heavenly Father? Who gave us each other, and the minds and hearts to enjoy the love that is ours? B. Well, I think yours is the sweetest belief. I often wonder why you seem all sunshine and I all shadow. I think it must be because you have the great leaven of trust and I the want of it. J am the unleavened loaf. But now we must jook matters squarely in the face, and think of what must be done. The money we. were to receive to-day was to pay room- rent and give us something to eat, as well. Our landlady said she must have hcr money to-day, and we cannot live without food, no matter how small the quantity and how poor the quality. Work is slack, and not much prospect of its slack- ness diminishing. I have shown you the shadow; can you show me any of the sunshine? M. Yes, dear, and the sweetest and brightest of all sun- shine. Hope for work, and, while we're hoping, we must seek for it, HOW MRS, PONDEROUS WAS PAID. 49 B. But the thunder comes, and there is a dark cloud about fo obscure the horizon of our hopes, for the landlady’s heavy footsteps I hear upon the stairs; she is coming for her rent, and you know she said that if we did not have the same to- day, we must abide by the consequences. M. And those consequences are that she will need the room for other people—that she will hold our few possessions for security, and we are to be thrust out in the cold. But, Bella, how often have I told you that ‘‘ while there is life there is hope;” so we must wait a little while longer. B. It seems to me we have been waiting a long time, and that all we do is only waiting. (Enter Mrs. PonpERovs.) Mrs. Ponprerovus. Well, girls, here you see me as large as life and twice as natural! My time is always precious, and I’m a woman of few words, although those words are as hefty as myself. I’m short of stature and quick of speech, and [ believe in coming to the point at once for business. The ques- tion is: Have you the promised money for me, or have you not? If you have, you may hand it over; if you haven't, there is no use for reasons, because they will make no differ- ence in the consequences I told you of. Now, what is your answer—ye% or no? M. Nota penny! Mrs. P. Although.J don't like the words, as used in this ease, Llike you for the way you speak them. You never were a whiner, Miss Millicent, and you always have strived to make the best of the bad bargains. I like you, but I can’t ‘ake friendship in place of rent because my landlord will not iecept friendship for his dues. Now, we will reckon up and see about how much these things will bring, and then we can sell how much more there will be due and how you are to contrive to pay me. B. But where can we go? What can we do? Where can we find a shelter and food? What will hecome of us? ‘M. Pray, work, hope and trust! Mrs. P. Why, you gave me quite a turn! It’s been many a long year since I have prayed. I think it makes folks too tender-hearted for this rough-and-tumble world. B. Oh, Mrs. Ponderous, when you are sending us out into the bitter and uncharitable world, you are sending us forth to our death! M: Still, be brave, trusting and hopeful— “* Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining. Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall— Some davs must be dark and dreary,” THE DIME DIALOGUES, mi (Enter Mrs. Waust.) Mrs. West. And very right you are, darling. I’ve had such a tug to find you, for I was away when your parents died and misfortune overtook you; and your former rich friends did not seem to know your address. But I persevered until ‘ I succeeded, and here I am, girls. Don’t you remember me? ' M. Why, Mrs. West, to be sure we do! How many sum ‘ mers we have passed at your good old farm, in the happy. * y: gone days! B. What a change since then! Now we are as poor as poverty, our rent is overdue and we must part with some of our few possessions to pay the debt, and we are just about to be cast adrift without a home because we have been cheated out of some money due us, and for which we worked—oh, so hard! . (Cries.) Mrs. W. There, there, dear, don’t be so depressed and . downhearted, You and Milly are going back to the old farm : to live with me, for it’s lonesome there without young hearts =z and faces. You will be healthier and happier there, and if } you do not want to lead an idle life you can find plenty to do y to help me and to pass away the time profitably. Would you mind living on the farm? Perhaps it would be a greater ' pleasure on my part to have you with me than for you to come. M. Mind going! Oh, Mrs. West, it will seem like Heaven! Be assured we will work hard and earnestly to merit the good- ness and kindness you are showing us. Mrs. W. Of course. I’m. going to pay your debts here, and then we'll go shopping, for I want you both to lay in a good supply of clothing, as my pocket-book is ’most too heavy to carry anc I want to lighten it some. Mrs. P. Well, girls, l’m,glad of your good fortune, fo you deserve it. And I hope you won't be offended with me, marm, for having to do as i have done; but I let rooms for a living, and business has to be business in my case. Mrs. W. It doesn’t matter what I think of you or your ruthless way of doing what you term business, You will re corve every cent due you, and that is all, I suppose, you care for. Your own conscience must tell you how far you have cheated it of a hearing, and I advise you to have an hour's talk with it every day You might then learn that, business znd human sympathy are not wholly incompatible. B. Ithank you, too, Mrs. West. Henceforth, I am going to try to get some of Milly’s sunshine into my composition and have faith in the good there is in the earth. M. TI have never lost that faith. It has been that which has kept me up in all my troubles, and I have long since learned the truth of the proverb, ‘‘If it were not for hope the heart would break,” (Curtain falls.) POLYWOG VERSUS WOLYPOG, POLYWOG VERSUS WOLYPOG ; oR, THE MASS MEETING IN PODUNK. Yiaracters :—Ropsins, JONES, SALTERs, Prince, Perry, FAIRFIELD, Hunter, Sniacins, JENKINS, GAy, POLLARD, Kine, GARDNER. Srmonson, Briauam, Surry, Prerce, WHITEHEAD, Meras, STone, Srkes, STRATTON, GRAHAM, Locks, Sims, Beaumont. Scenz I.—TZhe poster. Rogsrys. What are you posting up there? JENKINS. I'm posting up a notice for the great mass meet- ig. . R. (Reads :) ‘‘ Polywogs, rally!’ A mass meeting of the _ Polywogs willbe held to-night at Polywog Hollow. All are _ invited to attend.” Ho, ho! I had not heard of it before. Smirn. Nor neither. I’m bound to go to that. Jones. Soaml. Do you think there will be much of a _ turnout? d __ JENKINS. Oh, yes; they’re coming from all over the town. _ North Podunk, South Podunk and Podunk Center. In fact, everybody is coming. _ §siru. I'll take my team and bring down a load. Gay. Good! Let’s see: town meeting comes to-morrow. Who is going to win this time? Hunter, Oh, the Polywogs are going to beat, sure! _ _ Saurers. That will make the Wolypogs 1’are up, I reckon. They have beat the Polywogs so long. 5 PoLuaRD. ‘That's so! They are going to get beaten this time. There is no mistake about that. _ Meres. Well, I hepe that is so. Those rascally Woly- F pogs have held office about long enough. That’s what I _- think. ' Prince, So do I, Well, I’m going home, so as to come down early. p Manes E eos we all shall have to be moving. 0 STONE. I think, I’m off\ Perry. §0am I, Curtains Scene II. —The mass meeting _ GarpNER. “his meeting will please come te order, 2 nominate Mr. §'monson as chairman, Srxes, I seu.ad the nomination, THE DIME DIALOGUES. Garp. All in favor of Mr. Simonson for chairman will say, Ay. Aut. Ay! Garp. Carried! FAIRFIELD. Three cheers for Mr. Simonson! (AI cheer.) Smronson. I thank you for the honor which you have con- ferred upon me. We have met this evening to denounce the corrup‘ion and misrule of the Wolypog party, and to try and elect men, at our election to-morrow, who will be a credit to: the town of Podunk and who will perform their duties faith- fully and honestly. I now have the honor of introducing te you Mr. Stratton, the candidate of the Polywog party for supervisor. BrAumont. Three cheers for Mr. Stratton! (AU cheer.) STRATTON, Fellow-citizens:—Never before in the history of our town has public feeling been so aroused, or the people so determined to elect men to office who will be faithful and true to the best interests of the town. H. That’s so! : (The delegation from North Podunk come in with music and banners.) Smron. Three cheers for the delegation from North Po- dunk! (Phey cheer.) Srrat. For the past six years the Wolypog party have filled all the offices from the highest to the lowest. Therefore they, and they only, should be keld responsible for whatever has been wrong, and should receive credit for whatever has been well done. (The delegation from South Podunk come tn.) Smion. Three cheers for the delegation from South Po- dunk! Srratr. But, how stands the case? Have our town officers performed their duties honestly? Aut. No! Srrat. Have they, in the performance of their duties, at ways studied the best interests of the town? LL. Ne! Srrat. Have they strove to administer the affairs of the town carefully and economically, so that the taxes should be ‘kept down to the lowest possible figure? Au. No! No! Srrat You may well say no, for during the past six years our taxes have not only increased but they have more than doubled. Aut, That’s so! Srrat. And what have they done to show for it? Aut. Nothing! Beau, They’ve filled their pockets, POLYWOG VERSUS WOLYPOG. 58 Srravt. My friend is right—they hae filled their pockets. Men who were poor when they went into office, suddenly have become rich. Men who used to ride on horseback, now own their fine carriages. Prixce. That’s the truth! Srrat. Shall this state of affairs continue longer? Aut. No! No! Srrat. Lhope not. To-morrow we meet to decide this question at the ballot-box. F. We wili decide it. Strat. - 1 know that the other party is anxious to remain in power, and that they will spend large amounts of money to buy up every vote they possibly can. aaeacie They can't buy us. Srrat. No; we have honest men enough to decide this . Matter justly. Still, we must work. Let every one who is in favor of honesty and fair dealing, of economy and reasonable taxes, see to it that every honest man has a chance to get to the polls and that he is furnished with the right vote, and if we all work faithfully we shall find, when the votes are counted to-morrow night, that we have routed the enemy, horse and foot. Then will a new era dawn upon the town of Podunk—an era that will make every property-holder re- oice. ; Brau. Three cheers for Mr. Stratton, our next supervisor! (All cheer.) GRAHAM. Sniggins! I call for Sniggins! Au. Sniggins—Sniggins! Speech from Sniggins! Smron. I have the honor to introduce Mr. Sniggins, our candidate for ccnstable. Bric. Three cheers for Si Sniggins! Snicemns. Fellow-citizens and Polywogs of Podunk:— Here I am, Si Sniggins, the same old’coon! I measure five feet nine inches in my stocking-feet, and every inch of me is Poly- wog. WuitTeHEAD. Good for Si! , Snia. To-day I met one of the Wolypog gang, and he said ‘that he guessed that we wouldn’t have mach of a meeting to- night for he thought it was going to rain. I told him that we could stand any rain but the reign of the Wolypogs—blasi their picters! W. Bully for you! Locks. Good boy. M. That’s the talk! Snie. And, if I am not mistaken, we’ll touch off that blast and send ’em all to Jericho. M. That’sso. To Jericho and beyond! Snie. To-morrow we meet the Wolypogs in battle srray, and, when the smoke of battle dies away, if they don’t find 54 THE DIME DIALOGUES. that they have all been elected to take a trip up Salt river, then I’m a cowboy! H. That’s the talk! Princr. Hit ’em again! Snia. And it’s high time for some change to be made, for jf ever there existed on earth a set of rascals, it is these same Wolypogs. ALL. That’s so! Snia. How was it when they filled in the road that runs thro’ Polywog Hollow? They gave the contract to Sol Grab at fifty cents a load, and he was to raise the road two feet, and what did Sol do? He hired men with wheelbarrows, and charged fifty cents Lor wheelbarrow loads. Aut. That’s so. Snia. . That’s Wolypog honesty!) Now I am going to vote : straight Polywog ticket from A to Izzard, Si Sniggins and al AL. Good! Gond! Snia. And why shouldn’t I? If I vote for Si Sniggins I know that Si will be honest, but if I vote for Bil! Swipes, the Wolypog candidate, -I am voting for a man that cannot see a political rascal, especially if that rascal slips a few bank bills into his pocket. Now there is my old pocket-book—(greduces old pocket-book)—it has been just as thin as that ever since the cartwheel ran over it. Now if the rascals ever get any money into that they will have to steal it, and steal the pocket book, too, and smuggle it in. Yes, sir-ee!” R. Go it, old boy! Snia. Now, some of them say that Si Sniggins is not a Polywog, but a tadpole. I don’t care what they call me, but, mind you, if I get elected I'll stir them up with a long pole, and a pretty sharp one it will be, too. Aut, That’s it! Hit ‘em again! Snic. Now, some of them are boasting that the Polywogs are going to be scarce this spring, for the cold weather has killed them all off, igs they will find out to-morrow that they will swarm like the frogs of Egypt. Let every cne turn out *9-morrow, and if you can’t walk, crawl up to the ballot-box vd get in your vote, and the victory will be ours. ALL. Hip, hip, burrah! hurrah! hurrah! Srmon. Mr. Sikes will now read some resolutions. Sixes Resolved, That we are in favor of honesty and strict economy in the management of our town affairs, and are op- posed to electing men to office whose only recommendations are dishonesty and incapacity. Resolved, That the ticket put in nomination by this party is a ticket which should command the respect and confidence of every honest man, and if elected, will rescue the town of Podunk from the foul disgrace into which it has been plunged by the party now in power, ar POLYWOG VERSUS WOLYPOG, Resolved, That we will use every honest effort to elect each and every man upon our ticket. Aun. Good! —Smon, What will you do with these resolutions? Sims. I move that they be adopted! LL. Isecond the motion! Srwon. All in favor will say ay! _ Aunt. Ay! Simon. Contrary, no. Carried. Princk. . I woulé be glad to accommodate you, but I have no More balls to spare. ¥ — Con. Well, Lhave! (Draws a pistol and shoots him.) There, lain, take your reward! Iam beset by robbers; I have been lized to take the lives of two men. 1 know not how many re I may meet. Were it not so late I would turn back, bt { must go on and try to reach the next house. (Zvit.) 3 (CAPTAIN and ANTONIO enter.) , (Goes up to Parricx.) What's this? The man’s (Kicks him.) Wakeup! (Rolls him over.) What! is Patrick dead? Where is Bravado? A. He must be killed, also, j Cap. ‘Yengeance! vengeance! Quick! we must leave here ind work together to avenge our comrades, (Hzeunt.) (Curtain.) Scene III.—Cotonen Morean traveling.. (AnTon10 enters.) Your money or your life! (Zhe CoLONEL shoots him, n the CAPTAIN rushes in and draws his sword.) Cap. Surrender! (Both draw swords, but the Couonnr ntly sends the outlaw’s sword spinning across the slage.) Hold, colonel! Spare my life! Cou. Crockett! Is it you, companion of my early days? vittle did I think that you would ever become a robber. Cap. Itisevenso. Spare my life, I beg of you! Cou. I will spare you upon condition that you repent f your great crim:s and strive to lead an honest life. Cap, i promise all this, and more. IJ have robbed many lave reduced families to want, but if I am allowed to live vill devote the rest of my life in doing what I can to make titution for the misery that I have produced. I have dis- ced the name of Crockett, and will drop it forever in the tw life I shall lead. ‘t Cox. An honorable man never triumphs over a fallen foe. re you, but shall see that you redeem your wicked tife by vest and Christian conduct. Se ‘ap, Noble man! Would the world were all likw you that there were fewer like me! at (Curtain.) 30° THE DIME DIALOGUES, Th THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH: x IN FOUR SCENES AND A TABLEAU. ; Costumes of the Puritan period. G , *\cENE I.—An empty, tl-furnished room, the walls hung with B armor, swords, forling-pieces, and other warlike accouterments, besides small book shelves, with a few books. JOHN ALDEN, 4 i, fair-haired young man, sits writing at w rude pine table. Mites STANDISH, the choline captain, walks restlessly back an , forth. Mites STanpvIsH. Look at these arms—the warlike weapons that hang here, J . Burnished, and bright, and clean, as if for parade or inspec tion! : This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders: this breast-plate, Well I remember the day! once saved my life in a skirmish; Here in the front you can see the very dint of the bullet. Had it not been sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish Would at this moment be mold, in their grave in the Flemish morasses. JoHN ALDEN. Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of thé bullet; He, in his mercy, preserved you to be our shield and out weapon! MILES. See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hang: ing; That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others. Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage; So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your ink- horn. Then, too, there are my soldiers, the invincible army of Plymouth, Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his match- lock ; Highteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage. And, like Cxesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers. And you can see from the window my brazen howitzer planted High on the roof of the church, a preacher who speaks to the purpose, ; Flashing straightforward conviction right into the hearts of the heathen. \Miuus looks out of the window, or walks silently a couple of turns up and down the room, then in another tone goes on.) oi THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. There, too, on the hill by the sea, lies buried Rose Standish; Beautiful Rose of love, that bloomed for me by the wayside! Ah! she was the first to die of all who came in the May- flower! ; Green above her is growing the field of wheat they have sown i + apith there, i nents, Better to hide from the Indian scouts, the graves of our peo- EN, 4) table. 5 and ple, Lest they should count them and see how many already have erished ! cis. pauses tin his walk, looks at the books on the shelves, takes down a volume of Cesar, opens it, stands a moment, as if read- ing it, then, slapping the page heavily with his hand, exclaims :) A wonderful man was this Cesar! You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally hid skillful! he JOHN. 7 Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with pen and his iles weapons, Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs. ish Mixes. Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Cesar! ‘he Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right, when he ur said it. Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after; o- Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he cor- quered; i 3, He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded; it Finally he was stabbed by his friend the orator Brutus! Now, do you know what he did, on a certain occasion in - Flanders? ‘ When the rear-guard of his army retreated, ‘the front giving way, too, And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely to- ether There oa no room for their swords? why he seized a shield from a soldier, . Put himself at the head of his troops, and commanded the captains, Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns; Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons; Sc he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. That’s what I always say: if you wish a thing to be well done You Mus? Do IT YOURSELF; you must not leave it to others! Se {HE DIME DIALOGUES, (Mines takes one or two turns up and down the room, his eye brows scowled as if in thought, then, stopping by the table says © to JOHN :) When you have finished your work, I have something impor- tant to tell you. Be not in haste, however; I can wait; I shall not be im- patient! Joun ALDEN (folding his letters and pushing away the papers 2 Speak, for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen, Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish. Mixes Stanpisx (embarrassed and awkward.) ’Tis not good for man to be alone, say the Scriptures, This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it; very hour in the day I think it, and feel it, and say it. Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary. Sick at heart have I been, beyond the hearing of friendship. Oft in my lonely hours, have I thought of the maiden Pris- cilla. She is alone in the worl; her father, and mother and brothez, Died in the winter together; I saw her} going and coming, Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the ¢y- ing, Patiert, courageous and strong, ard.said to myself that if” ever There are angels on earth, as there are angels in Heaven, Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla, Holds in my life the place which the other ahandoned. Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it, Being a coward in this, though valiant enough fer the mest part. Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden in J‘lymoutt, Say that a blunt old captain, a man not of words brt of ae tion, Offers his hand and heart, the hand and heart of a soldier, «Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meap . ing; I ama maker of war, and not a maker of phrases. You, who are bred a scholar, can say it in elegant language Such as you read in your books of the pleading and wooir 73 of lovers. Such as vou think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden. JOHN. Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it; If you would have it well done—I am only repeating your maxim, You must do ft yoursei, you must not leave it to othersi THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. . MILEs. Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it; ‘But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for noth- ing. Now, as { said before, I was never a maker of phrases; Can march up to a fortress, and summon the place to sur- render, But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. Im not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But a thundering ‘‘ No!” point-blank from the mouth of a ; woman, That I confess I’m afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it! you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar, Having the graces of speech, and skill in turning of phrases. (Miuss holding out his hand to JouN ALDEN.) * am **Give me your hand upon it,” Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts me: Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of your friendship! JOHN. ‘The name of friendship is sacred. * What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you! (Hzit CAPTAIN MiLEs STANDISH.) Must I relinquish it all? ust I relinquish it all, the joy; the hope, the illusion? Was it for this I have leved, and waited, and worshiped in silence? Was it for this I have foliowed the flying feet and the shadow, Ver the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New England? 4\ll is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it distinctly! his is the hand of the Lord: it is laid upon me in anger. Shis is the cross I must bear; the sin and the swift retribu- tion. (Hvit Joun ALDEN.) (Curtain falls.) Scene II.—Priscrnua seated at her wheel spin ning, the carded wool beside her; on her lap an old psalm-book ; PRiscruua sings as she spins. JOHN ALDEN ¢@nters; she rises and gives him her hand in welcome. PRISCILLA, Surely, I knew it was you, when I heard your step in the passage ; Por I was thinking of you, as I sat there singing and spinning. Woun hands her a bouquet of wild flowers; they stand silent a moment.) I have been thinking all day, John, % ing all night and thinking all day, of the hedge rows of ; England 84 THE DIME DIALOGUES, They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden} Thinking of lanes and fields and the song of the lark and the tinnet. Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip with neighbors, And at seeing the village church with the quiet graves in the church-yard. Kind are the people I live with, and dear to me my religion; Still my heart is so sad that I wish myself back in old England. You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it; I almost — Wish myself back in old England, I feel so lonely and wretched. JOHN. Indeed, I do not condemn you; Stouter hearts than a woman's have quailed in this terrible winter, Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on; So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of mar’ riage, Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish, the captain of Plymouth! Priscra (looking up from her flowers with a surprised look at the captain's name.) ; if the great captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me! if I am not worth the wooing, L surely am not worth the win- ning! JOHN. Our brave captain of Plymouth is a man not of words, but of action. The captain, moreover, is busy; he has no time to spare for such things. PRISCILLA. Has no time for such things, 2s you call it, before h< is married, Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding? _ That is the way with you men; you don’t understand us, you j canno}, When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that one, Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another, Then you make known your desire with abrupt and sudden avowal; And are offended, and hurt, and indignant, perhaps, that woman Does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected. This is not right nor just; fot surely a woman’s affection Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking. When one is truly in love, one not only says it but shows it. Had he but waited a while, had he only showed that he loved me, THE COURTSHIP OF MILES SYANDISH, 85 ven this captain of yours—who knows?—at last might have won me, _ Old and rough as he is; but now it never can happen. be JOHN, _ You are speaking in haste, Priscilla, you make answer with- out reflecting. ‘He i is a good man and true—this Captain Miles Standish, of : Plymouth. Think of his courage and skill, of all his battles in Flanders! How, with the people of God, he has chosen to suffer affliction: _ Lov, in return for his zeal, they have made him Captain of i” Plymouth. _ He is a gentleman born, too, can trace his pedigree plainly _ Back to Hugh Standish, of Duxbury Hall, in es England, Who was the son of Ralph, and grandson of Thurston dé Standish. Heisa man of honor, of noble and generous nature; \ - Though he is rough, he is kindly. You know how during the . “winter He has attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as woman's; Somewhat hasty and hot, I cannot deny it, and headstrong; ~ _ Stern as a soldier should be, but hearty and placable always; _ Not to be laughed at and scorned because he is little ¢{ ; stature: _ For he is great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous. Any woman in Plymouth—nay, any woman in England— Might be happy and proud to be called the wife of Miles Stan dish! P Priscrua (areh and half-laughing). _ That is a long speech, all to no purpose, about your redoubt able captain. You are such an eloquent talker, why don’t you speak foi 4 yourself, John? _ Why do you plead for another? (Tableau for an instant of the two speakers just as they stand. 7 (Curtain falls.) Scene I1J.—Mixes Sranpisu, alone, sits by the pine table read- ing; enter JOHN ALBEN. MILEs. Long wore you been on your errand, and weary am I of wait. Not far OF i is the house, although the woods are between us; But you have lingered so long, that while you were going and coming, : I have fought ten battles, and sacked and demolished a city. _ Come, sit down, and in order relate to me all that has liap pened, THE DIME DIALOGUES, JOuN. *Tis truly a wondrous adventure, I could not have dreamed it or known. So, from beginuing to end, just as it happened, I will tell you: Away through the Plymouth woods, unhindered I went on my errand, Straight to the new-built house, past the people at work inthe meadows, And I heard, as I drew near the door, the musical voice of Priscilla * Singing the hundredth psalm to the buzz of the whirling : spindle. ; Then I delivered your message, simple and short as you 1 ave it; I could not embellish the theme, nor array it in bea.s*”' : phrases, But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a schoolboy. Silent, surprised she looked a moment, then she made answer, li the Captain Miles Standish, of Plymouth, is so very eager to win me, ; Why does he not come himself and take the trouble to woo me? Then, as well as I could, I began explaining and smoothing the matter; I blundered, and made it worse by saying that you were busy— Had no ies for such things; and then I r'scilla made answer That this was not right nor just; that suse y a woman’s affec- tion Is a thing to be worked for, not had for only the asking; That, if you had waited a while— had only showed that you loved her, You might, at last, have won her—but now it could not hap- pen. Urging your suit, I went on, unheeding the werds of Priscilla; Urging your suit, my friend—explaining, persuading, expand- ing At length on your honor, your kindness, your courage and courtly behavior, With words that came fast to my lips, from a heart as true as a brother’s, Till archly Priscilla smiled, and with eyes overrunning with laughter, Said, in a tremulous voice, Why don’t you speak for yourself, John? Mixes STaNnpIsH (springing up and stamping his feet). John Alden, you have betrayed me! Me, Miles Standish, your friend!—have supplanted, defrauded, betrayed met =. THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. or One of my ancestors ran his sword through the heart of Wat ; Tyler: _ What shall prevent me from running my own through the heart of a traitor? ours is a greater treason, for yours is a treason to friendship! ou, who lived under my roof—whom I cherished and loved as a brother— | You, who have fed at my board and drank of my cup—in ; whose keeping Thave intrusted my honor, my thoughts, the most sacred and secret: You, too, Brutus! Ah, woe to the name of friendship here- ; after! Brutus was Cwsar’s friend, and you were mine, but hencefor: ward Let there be nothing between us save war and implacable hatred! (Enter a messenger.) MESSENGER. I bring to Captain Miles Standish a message of utmost impor tance. ; There are rumors of war and hostile incursions of Indians; \ he Counci! this day have received an open challenge of war- fare. The Elders are now assembled, and send me to hastén your coming! '(Caprarn buckles on his sword, and departs with the messenger} (Curtain falls.) Scene IV.—The Council of Plymouth seated about a table; an open Bible on the table ; beside tt the stuffed skin of a rattle- snake ; an Indian stands by the table. Enter Mrums Sran- DISH. First Puritan. You are welcome, Captain of Plymouth. We are met here, debating ' What were a fitting answer to the hostile message and men : ace— Do you see it?—this outstretched skin of a rattlesnake, illed, like a quiver, with arrows—a signal and challenge of warfare: Brought by this Indian, and speaking with arrowy tongues of defiance. ELDER BREWSTER. Be not hasty in answer; let your wrath be mingled with mercy. My voice must be heard for peace, as was the voice of my Master. 1 judge it wise and well that some, at least, be converted Rather than any be slain; for this is but Christia» behavior * 38 THE DIME! piALOGULS, MiLEs. What! do you mean to make war with milk and ihe water of : roses? Ts it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer planted There on the roof of the church? or is it to shoot red devils? Truly, the only tongue that is understood by a savage Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the mouth of & | cannon! ELDER. Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other apostles; Not from the cannon’s mouth were the tongues of fire they spoke with! Caprain Sranpisu (advancing to the table). Leave this matter to me, for to me by right it pertaineth. War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is righteous, Sweet is the smell of powder; and thus | answer the challenge. (Jerking the rattlesnake’s skin off the table, and jerking out thé arrows, fills it with powder and bullets, hands it to the Indian.) Tere, you treacherous savage! take this home to your pow-wow- Take this! —this is your answer! (Zeit Indian.) (Curtain falls.) Scpenge V.—Joun ALDEN walking up and down the room; enter Priscruua; he does not see her at first. PRISCILLA. Are you, then, so much offended that you will not speak to me? Am I so much to blame that yesterday, when you were pleading Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and way- ward, Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful, perhaps, of decorum? Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly—for ~ saying What I ought not to have said—yet now I can never unsay it! JOHN. I was not angry with you; with myself alone I was angry, Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had in my keeping: PRISCILLA. No! no! you were angry with me for speaking so frankly and freely. I was ee I acknowledge; for it is the fate of a woman | Long to be patient and silent, and wait like a ghost that 18 speechless. I was so hurt at your words, and a little affronted to hear you Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the Captain Miles Standish, THE COURTSHIP OF AfLES8 STANDISH, For [ must tell you the truth: much more tome is your friendship han all the love he could give me, were he twice the hero you think him. _ (She holds out her hand to him ; he takes tt.) ‘ JOHN. es, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friend- E SHIDs= 5; Let me ever be the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest! - ~ PRISCILLA (laughing). Well, now that our terrible captain has gone in pursuit of the Indians, ‘ Where he is happier far than he would be comm.nd ag a E househoid, You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that happened be- tween you, j : When you returned to him, and said how ungrateful .you : found me. : JOHN. © The whole of the story, just as it happened, I told him; Only smoothing a little, and softening down your refusal. and full of despair I was when the pent-up wrath of Miles Standish. Burst*forth in a sudden explosion that scatters destruction P around it: _ He vowed it was treason to friendship, and that henceforward — here should be nothing between us but war and implacable hatred. PRISCILLA. Ah! he is a little chimney, and heated hot in a moment! JOHN, : Nay, speak not thus lightly, Priscilla; he is a brave man, loyal and true; 5 Though he departed in anger, he has gone forth to danger or death. And I had determined to sail this day in the Mayflower, And have remained for your sake, seeing the dangers that threatened. 5 ~y . PRISCILLA. ‘ Truly, I thank you for this! How good you have been to me always! ; (PriscriLa turns to her spinning-wheel and begins to spin.) > JOHN. : ; iS Truly, Priscilla, truly, when I see ‘you spinning and spin- 1 ning— 5 Never idle a moment, but thrifty and thoughtful for others— Suddenly you are transformed, are visibly changed in a moment: — ; : oe : ou are no longer Priscilla. but Bertha the beautiful spinner! ‘ 90 THE DIME DIALOGUES. (PRISCILLA snaps the thread.) She was so thrifty and good that her name passed into # proverb; So shall it be with your own, when the spinning-wheel shall no longer Hum in the house of the farmer, and fill its chambers with music. Then shall the mothers, reproving, relate how it was in their t childhood, Praising the good old time, and the days of Priscilla, the spinner. (Priscrua leaves her wheel, takes a skein of yarn from the reel, and gives it to JOHN to hold while she winds.) PRISCILLA (laughing. ) Come, you must not be idle; if 1 am a pattern of housewives, Show yourself equally worthy of being the model of husbands: Hold this skein on your hands while I wind it, ready for knitting; Then who knows but hereafter, when fashions have changed and the manners, Fathers may talk to their sons of the good old times of John Aiden! (Enter a messenger.) MESSENGER. I bring you terrible news—terrible news from the village! Yes; Miles Standish is dead!—an Indian has brought the tidings— Slain by a poisoned arrow, shot down in the front of the battle! Now, all the town will be burned, and all the people be mur- dered! (PRISCILLA makes a gesture of horror ; JOHN starts up.) JOHN, The arrow that pierced his heart has struck my own, ané sundered, Once and forever, the bonds that held me captive! Tt is the will of the Lord, and thou art mine forever! (Clasps PRISCILLA in his arms.) Those whom God hat}: united let no man put asunder. (Curtain falls.) Scene VI.—Tableau. Wedding of Joun and Prisciuua. Or, a pantomime marriage ceremony, when the supposed ghost of Mirzs STANDISH appears. It is the CAPTAIN in the body, who congratulates the couple, and gives his blessing. If represented in tableaux, it should be shown three times—first, the ceremony; second, when Captain appears at door, and all aes aghast with horror; third, CAPTAIN in act of congratulation, and all aré surprised and delighted, THE ROBERT EMME’ sone aN RBCITATION BOuR. ® A SPLENDID COLLECTION OF LYRIC GEMS. ‘CONTAINING + PROBERT mmr GREAT SE TH Dock mm. J. IVERS « &é& Go, @ PUBLISHERS, S70 PEARL sT., NEW YORE. —- z NEARLY 100 STANDARD COMPOSITIONS ‘By Thomas Moore, Samuel Lover, Father Prout, tThomas Francis Meagher, Father Regan, John Brougham, M. W. Balfe, 4ND OTHER CELEBRATED IRISH COMPOSERS BY NAIL, POSTPAID, 12 CENTS PER COPY: 1e. and 2c. 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