\ i DIALOGUES No. 36. . BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST, NEW YORK. The Toronto News Co., Toronto, Can. / A NEW BOOK. FOR Exhibitions and Home Entertainments. ‘DIME DIALOGUES No. 36. Just Published, THE KING. DISCROWNED; or, Sprine’s Victory. A Dress and Spec- tacular Piece. For an entire school, By Aliee C, Victor. MEETING OF THE BULGERTOWN PHILOMELIAN LITERARY SOCIETY,’ A * Combination” Literary Exuibit ana Rules of Order Expos tion. For five or more males and three females. By H. Eliott MeBride. WISE AND OTHERWISE. A Rhymed Recitation, For six litile boys. By Cyril Deane. MOONSHINE. A Jingle. For six little girls. By Annie Deanc. BEWARE OF MR. O LY GAMMON; or, A Lesson IN SLeEzY SILK. For four males. ‘By Frank Sn-lling. ; SARAH HANNAH; or, Sensrpte at Last, An Alsthetic Disillusion. For four females, vy Frank §. Finn. THE COWBOY COUSIN; or, Don’t Junge sy A Har. A Very. Natural series of Consequences. For tw» males anu th.ee females. By Mrs, Eugene Schuyler. fh : THE PROVERB CHILDREN. A Rhymed Recitation, For six little girls. By Fanny Snell, ; THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY; or Tse Motvat Frienp’s Srrateay. A New Method of Financierng. For two mal s and wo females. By H. Elliott Mcbri-e. aay ge ; THE REPUDIATED LEGACY; or, Riser Hearts Make Pricut Homes. For two females. By * Cousiu Alice.” _PROR, PACHYDERM’S MASTODON; or, Tae Crusuep Screntist. A Highly Unscientific Proceeding. For fourmales, By Augustin Similie, THE TOO GOOD-LOOKING MAN: or, Ertpget McCarty at THE PHoro- GRAPHER’s, A Drama of Life Below stairs. For three males a.ul two fémales. By Justine Seymour. \ HOW CASSAR CONQUERED, A Ghostly Affair. For one female, five males and a ghost,’’ By Paul Forbes. SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR; or, Toe Lucky Taerr. A Household fits SSeS AONE, For three females. By author of “ Mrs. Pod- erry.” . MG % HOW WIGGINS WAS CURED; or. Taz Enp Jusriries THE Means. A New Method of Reform. Wor four males. by Frank S. Finn, eas (2 The above book is sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be - sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N.Y, . THE DIME DIALOGUES No. 36._ » « HUMOROUS, SERIOUS AND PATHETIC 1 ” % FOR ALL GRADES OF SCHOOLS. FOR EXHIBITIONS, FOR ENTERTAINMENTS, FOR THE PARLOR, AND FOR THE AMATEUR AND SCENIC STAGE. ALL ORIGINAL AND NEW, AND PREPARED EXPRHESSLY FOR THIS SERIES. NEW YORK: BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, | 98 WILLIAM STREET. .\ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. i CONTENTS. i. PAGD THE KING DISCROWNED; or, Sprine’s Vicrory...... Vechten 9 A Dress and Spectacular Piece. For an entire school. By Miss Alice ©. Victor. : IL MEETING OF THE BULGERTOWN PHILOMELIAN LITERARY SOCHD oat eer Se tau cabe Shae ope So ROUT mE SS GR. Sa 18 A “combination” Literary Exhibit and Rules of Order Exposition. ‘ Fur five or more males and three females. By H. Elliott McBride. TH WISE AND OTHERWISE ........... seeneceee tt eee teat eee eee e reas 5) A Rhymed Recitation. For six little boys. By Cyril Deane. Seely a , MOONSHINE. ....2. 2. se2 cee ceetere cetteeereetstenteesseees fees es Oe A Jingle. For six little girls. By Annie Deane. Vv BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON; or, A Lesson 1n SuEnzy Sux. 29 For four males. By Frank Snelling. if VE i 3 SARAH HANNAH; or, Sensmuz av Last............ . .. 38 : An 2tsthetic Disillusion. For four females, By Frank 8. ‘Finn, i VIL ik THE COWBOY COUSIN; or, Don’r Jupez py A Har. ..........:- ib ‘A Very Natural Series of Consequences. For twomales.and three females. By Mrs. Eugene Schuyler. } THE PROVERB CHILDREN............ eRe yy ety tae . ARBhymed Recitation. For six little oats By Fannie Snel, CONTENTS. xX, PAGE THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY; or, Tae Mutvat FRiEenp’s UREA Y «etal oa kas ea we ORS eee awen ewes Je Gesu oe A New Method of Financiering. For two niales and two females. By H. Elliott McBride. x THE REPUDIATED LEGACY; or, Ricur Hearts Make Bricar SERUM uo grange Pale pas pe ta oag ao cas lee Sc WR SAN eae ope 61 For two females. ee “Cousin n Altea. : XI PROF. PACHYDERM’S MASTODON; or, Tre CrusHED Scientist. 66 A Highly Unscientific Proceeding. Forfour males. By Augustin Smilie. XII. THE TOO GOOD-LOOKING MAN; or, Brinezr McCarty at THE nw APIO A PEPE Go 8 ttn ahs cue ka Ea inns RE EINE Ss we CESS vee 72 A Drama of Life Below Stairs. For three males and two females. By Justine Seymour, XT. HOW CASAR CONQUERED . Sad 76 A Ghostly Affair. For one fovaates five maton: and a a‘ ‘« ghost.” S By Paul Forbes, XIV. SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR; or, Toe Lucky THErv.........-.. 79 ’ A Household Misunderstanding. For three females. By author of ‘‘ Mrs. Podberry.”” XV. . HOW WIGGINS WAS CURED; or, Toe Enp JustiFizs THE Means &4 , A New Method of Reform, For four males. By Frank S. Finn, + s Oye a Sein se THE DIME DIALOGUES NO. 36. THE KING DISCROWNED; OR, SPRING’S VICTORY. A DRESS PIECE FOR AN ENTIRE SCHOOL. Characters :—WiNntER Kine, Jack Frost, Nortn Winp, Snow Marwens, Ice Men, Sprine, Soura Winn, VIOLET, Crocus, ATTENDANTS. [This may be played by a large or small marae according to the s of the stage-material at command, etc. The more attendants on WINTER and Sprine, the prettier the effect. The grouping must be arranged by some one who understands such work. The costumes will be easily made, and the whole put on the stage at small expense. The throne is composed of evergreens, cotton and “‘diamond dust,” forming the snow and frost. It must be raised two or three steps to allow of graceful posing when the Krne’s attendants fall asleep. If played by a large number, suitable choruses may be substiiuted for those here given. Good singing and effective dressing and posing are imperative.] (Curtain rises, disclosing KING WINTER on his throne sur- rounded by his attendants, singing) Lift we our voices, loudly we sing; No foe we fear as we dance along, For we're ruled by the grand old Winter King Whose praises long have been our song. Hurrah! burrah! His praise we sing While we bow before our hoary king. (All bowing.) Kriya. My children, arise! You honor me with your alle- giance, Yet | fear that all were vain. Boreas. = Hovy so, my liege? How serve we you in vain? THE DIME DIALOGUES, Kriya. Listen, and I will tell: The legend. ’Tissaid that — When the ides of this month of March Are numbered with the past, A maiden fair of loveliness untold, With many more of kindred likeness Shalt appear and conquer all. Before her we shall fall, and the earth Take on new garments, 5 Our reign sball end, and we Be relegated to those zones Where winter ever reigns. How, and when, I know not— Only that we awake in other lands, This all forgotten, and Spring rules instead. Jack F Rost. Tis but a legend. How could it be that we, Who thro’ long months have held the earth én- chained, Should be o‘ercome, disthroned, o’erwhelmed By tender maids, tho’ legion be their name? _ Kine. Yet must it be, I dimly feel the tale a prophecy No less. x Borzas. / Sav it were so, her coming, King;— What then? We still would reign; For very strength would we prevail. My gales once loosed, Their fury all undone, Who could withstand? Surely none, : If that you feel this coming to be so, I will away to my great storehouse In the mountain wilds, And tnere unloose the elements I hold in check, And so surround with wind and tempest This, our righteous kingdom, That the bravest venture not to drive us hence. JAcK Frost. Command us, sovereign! And at that command, aes | fe | THE KING DISCROWNED. All will obey. ° These maidens fair, These sturdy sons of storms Whose lightest play makes havoc with the elements, Untied, who could stand against? 4 Not those you speak of. : MAIDENS. Command, and we obey. ist Mammen. Yes, speak my King, and willing hands Stretch forth to do your bidding, Tho’ months have passed since first Our airy flights entombed the world in white, Yet can we hurl against th’ intruders Cloud upon cloud of of snowy flakes Garnered on mountain hights, There to await our pleasure. 2p MAIDEN. If Sol in all his burning fury Cannot prevail against our pnleashed strength, ae How, then, can Spring? Oh, no! Great King; not so! ; We shall prevail in this as in all else, And you shall still be King. ist Man. When icy arms in one long embrace cold Shall fold them— Our frosty breath upon their cheeks make havoc— Chilled to the very heart, ay! frozen— Who'll talk of reigning then ? Kine. * That you would serve me well I know; And your bright promises encourage me, To work! And should this charmer come, Weill vanquish her. (All sing.) Hurrah! hurrah! Our hoary King Still holds his own right well, And laugis defiance at the Spring, Whose coming they foretell. Hurrah! hurrah! His praise we'll sing And bow before our Winter King. (They bow and rise.) THE DIME DIALOGUES. Kina. Hark! (Zhey listen with surprise. Singing ts heard outside.) ‘ The merry months are nigh, fhe merry months of Spring, When sunbeams gild the sky, And woods with music ring. The merry months are nigh, The merry months of Spring, When sunbeams gild the sky. And woods with music ring; When fragrance fills each breeze That plays round trellised bowers, Or revels ’mid the trees To kiss the new-born flowers. These merry months are nigh, These merry months of Spring, When sunbeams gild the sky, And woods with music ring. The merry months are nigh The merry months of Spring.” (Music in ‘* National Melodies,’*) (As the last lines are being sung, Serine, with all her Ar TENDANTS enters, and makes obeisance to the KinG.) SPRING. Hail, King! : ATTENDANTS, Hail!. e Kina. And who are you That come thus mirthfully, Unasked, into this council hall Of one who reigns? SPRING. Of one who reigned, say rather, For your reign is o’er And mine begins. Kina. Hold! Not so fast! By what power come you here To tell me this? J, who am King, laugh at your pretense! Away! Begone! ere I and mine— apy te naa THE KING DISCROWNED. 13 Serine. (Raising her hand.) Beware, lest you have need | Of much repentance. . | Not over gallant you, tho’ King, ; To thus receive the fairer sex who come To honor you ere night o ertakes you 3 And your work is done, # Again I say—Beware! i JACK F Rost. i Know you to whom you speak? E SPRING. The Winter Kingi Boreas. And dare you thus To risk his mighty wrath? Know you that with a breath He could annihilate— Not you alone, but all your ’tendant train? (Her ATTENDANTS laugh.) s ATTENDANTS, Let him try! ¢ SPRING. Gently, gently, maiden fair! (To Kriya.) You ask me by what power I come Thus to dethrone you? I answer— Dame Nature, Queen of all the year Is my authority as in all else. I come in peace—but you defy me, now! So let it be. You shall decide if it Be warfare or submission to your fate. Kina. ’T were small to talk of warfare with such odds— Your puny strength against our unshorn might— ’T were but a farce. ‘ I shall but raise my kingly hand, and lo! A Where would you be, Or one of yours, oh, Spring? SpPRina. ¥ Think you so? Then the battle gauge I fling! The choice is yours, and we defy your strength. ag Make me to know in what way or manner : This warfare is to wage. St THE DIME DIALOGUES. Boras. T am the North Wind! One blast from me Would call from mountain fastnesses Such fury as could none withstand, Go not too far Lest I let loose upon you all The fury of my gales. No gentle breezes they; So tempt me not! ZEPHYR. Tam the South Wind And I defy you! Bring from the mountains all your stores Of blasts and unchained furies— One breath from me, One gentle kiss, and you are gone Forever. Will try it? (While speaking she has approached him. _ She now leans toward him and breathes gently upon him. He sinks back asleep.) JACK Frost. i Ho, ho! Boreas! What! Could not uphold yourself, But wilted by a woman’s sigh? ‘Tl better do than that. My icy grip shall fastened be On one and all of this intrusive crowd. APRIL SHOWERS. i’m April Showers. Come on, Sir Jack! I'll meet you fair! Put on your iciest armor. ‘ Come! Grip me well with that cold hand. (She extends her right hand, which he grasps. As he does so she raises over him a small sprinkler, hitherto concealed, and showers him, whereupon he too falls down asleep.) Kina. Stop! What is this I see? My two best men and boldest O’ercome by such as these? Oh, fie! On, sharne! (To Serine.) What will you? Cease your spells, And having said your say, begone! SS cennacecees aaa yh hee ’ THE KING DISCROWNED. = : 15 SPRING. That could not be! ‘Tis you who must begone, Not I, nor all my satellites, I've come to reign, and you Must take your deposition manfully, : Or else your fate were worse than these two fools. Kine. Never! SPRING, Then, maids, to work! (They begin to hum some lullaby, and move rhythmically among the Kine’s ATTENDAN7S, softly breathing upon each, until all are asleep, in picturesque attitudes around the throne. ' The Lullaby from ‘ Erminie” would be pretty for this, the parts simply hummed.) hae aN calceeitpliiaet MT ey. ee ¥ aja eee i Siey ee Kine. My reign is o’er indeed! Full well I see it now; And might have known that who Defied cur Mother, Nature came to grief. And I— I thought to hold my own despite The power that makes and unmakes Kings, Thus am I served. Igo! But if, in other climes Some day perchance we meet, My vengeance shall on you and yours be felt. (Rises from throne.) SPRING. Stay! Yet one more task is yours, Ere you depart for Arctic zones, Yours the hand to crown me Queen Of all you leave behind. Resist me not, or worse it were For you and yours! Kine. Alas! resistance is no more for me, Make haste that I may get me hence, And hide my humbled head. THE DIME DIALOGUES, (Chorus :) : “« Winter’s cruel reign is over, Vernal airs blow soft again, soft again, Blackbird, skylark, thrush and plover, Join and swell the merry strain, merry strain. Tra la la, etc. Messengers of Spring are flying Far from regions over sea, over sea, Voice to voice its welcome crying, - Raise the song of tuneful glee, tuneful glee. Tra la la, etc. Choose we now our queen of spring-time Come to reign in winter’s stead, winter’s stead; O’er the land to spread the sunshine, ; Wheresoe’er her feet shall tread, feet shail tread. Tra, la, la, ete. Echo,” or other may be substituted.) SPRING. My sprites, I thank you; and my promise is You never shall repent your choice. Come, sweet Violet, and you bright Crocus, Bring forth my crown and give it him Whose hand shall place it 6n my brow, And so declare my reign. (While she speaks, VioLeT and Crocus carry a crown of flowers up the steps of the throne and give it to the Kine, then turn- tng, hold out their hands to assist SPRING, who ascends and kneels before WINTER; all her ATTENDANTS kneeling at the same time.) The Kine, rising. crowns her.) Kina. Arise, fair Spring! To you I now confide the care Of all this noble realm. See to it that you fail not of the charge To beautify the meads, the hills, the vales, And make glad the hearts and homes of all! Hi Farewell! i SPRING. HE Farewell! ‘Yet, ere you go, oh, King, Ht A promise wiil I give _ To cheer your way :— In time my rule must cease as yours has done, And Summer gay will reign awhile instead; And after Summer, then the Autum bright. And that you have your duty done so well— (The music for this may be found in ‘ The Singing Schoot THE KING DISCROWNED. : Enthroned meé here—yourself resigning all, } 1 promise when the Autumn reign is o’er i These shall awake (Waving her hand over the sleepers), } And from the Polar zones \- You shall be freed | To rule with them again. j Farewell! | (Kine goes slowly off the stage.) And now my maids to work, The earth awaits! t (She arises, and attended by VioLEtT and Croovs, descends ; the others group around her, singing, and all slowly move off the stage during the last lines.) “* May month is coming, and we will be merry; 1. Good-by to December and cold January. 1 Strike the loud cymbal, let trumpets be blowing, fe And join in the chorus so cheerfuliy flowing. j Come to the dance of May, Come sing a roundelay, | Come to the open air, | Come and our pleasure share. Meigho! Huzzal Huzzal Huzzal Huzzal Huzza! Ha, la, etc.” (Curtain.) [Music for this in the “Mount Zion Collection.” As before said, — other glees may be substituted, if suitable. More elaborate ones may be preferred by advanced pupils.] ; ‘i a ty bi 1g THE DIME DIALOGUES. MEETING OF THE BULGERTOWN PHILO- MALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY. . Characters:—JouHN BARLEYCORN, President ; SALLY SLOPER, Secretary ; ARAMINTA Scrueerns, MewrtpaA MrLvina McGissper, Danre. DexrerR, G. WASHINGTON WOoOPPLE- TON, B. FRANKLIN DewsENBERRY, Sam Jones, Members ; Boys. Scenz.—A. School-room. PREsIPENT BARLEYcoRN. The hour at which this meetin’ meets is now here. Accordin’ to the coastitution and by-laws of this s’ciety, we should immediately go to work when the proper hour arrives, and not waste our time. This meetin’ should invariably meet at the appointed time, and I wish to say that while I occupy the chair of this s’ciety, I wiil inva- riably and invulnerably stand up alongside cf the constitution avd by-laws, and defend them to the best of my ability. We have met here for the purpose of havin’ areg’lar meetin’ of this s’ciety, and as the reg’lar hour, accordin’ to the constitu- tion and by laws, has arrived, we will proceed to have the meetin’ opened and the performance performed. Miss Sally Sloper was legally and constitutionally elected as secretary of this society, therefore she is the one constitutionally legalized to read the minutes of the last meetin’, Miss Sloper, read the minutes, and don’t mumble. Speak out, so’s everybody in the house can hear what’s goin’ on. f hate to hear minutes read in sich a way that you can’t tell what the reader is sayin’. Speak out, Miss Sloper; don t read like as if you didn’t eare. Speak so’s everybody within these walls, and within the reach of your voice, can telf what you're sayin’. Proceed with the proceedin’s, Miss Sloper. Miss Suorer. (Rises and reads -) DECEMBER 18th. The Bulgertown Literary Society met. The president wasn’t here for a spell, and Sam Jones was put into tbe chair. He didn’é want to go, Sam didn’t make a very good presi- dent. He didn’t know what to say nor what todo. The members thought he was a bungler, and they’l! never put him in for president again. ‘Sam Jones. (fises)) What's the meaning of this? Presiwwent. Keep your seat, Mr. Jones. The readin’ of the minutes must go on now, no difference what kind of min- utes they are. The readin’ must go on, and I support and defend the constitution and by-laws of this s’ciety when I say so. Sit down, Sam—the readin’ must go on, Sam. I think it’s an outrage. bob laa a ne tg at X PHILOMALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY, 19 PresiDENT. No difference if it is—the readin’ must go on. Sit down, Sam. Sam. I never heard such minutes before. PresipENT. Iam the president of this s’ciety. Iamm power. Therefore I say, Sam Jones, sit down, and not only sit down, but sit down immediately. If you go one step fur- ther in endeavorin’ to disturb this meetin’, and dislozate the constitution, I will put the law in force against you. You understand, do you, Mr. Jones? (Sam seats himself.) The readin’ of the minutes will now be proceeded with. Go on, Miss Sloper, and read the minutes, but don’t read them through your nose. = Miss Storer. (feads.) This meeting of the Bulgertown Literary Society didn’t amount to much, and it was ail because Sam Jones was in the chair. If we should have another meeting and have Sam Jones in the chair, it would be the death of the society. Sam. (Rises ) Vir. President— PRESIDENT. Sit down, Sam, sit down. I know it’s purty hard to bear, but it can’t be helped. I sympathize with you, Sam; nevertheless, you must sit down. The minutes must be read, even if they are peculiar minutes. (Sam sits down.) Go on with the readin of the minutes, Miss Sloper, but, as I said before, strive to avoid readin’ them through your nose, Miss Storer. (Reads.) G. Washington Woppleton moved that a tax of fifty cents be laid on all the male members of the society for the purpose of buying coal and oil. The motion was seconded, when B. Franklin Dewsenberry rose and said that he had left his money in his other pantaloons pocket, and as a natural consequence, he didn’t have his other pautaloons pocket along with him. The motion was withdrawn, and Mr. Dewsenberry was instructed by the president not to do so again. A motion was then made that Daniel Dexter be in- vited to furnish some oil so as to keep the lights burning for the next meeting, and Daniel accepted the invitation. Daniel isa gentleman. Sam Jones being in the chair, everything was generally upset and disarranged. Another meeting of the same kind would be very disastrous to the society. The society adjourned to meet in one week. (Miss SLOPER secis herself.) PRESIDENT. What ought to be done with these min- utes? Sam. (Rises.) I think they ought to laid under the table. (Seats himself ) Araminta. Or pitched into the fire. : Prestpzent. These remarks are out of order. Araminta Scruggins, when you want to say somethin’ rise up and say it. Don’t sit like as if you had the rheumatism and wasn’t able to Tise. 2 ine ! Dt ONE RD Cat i Ae fi a s —— see ea are eects — THE DIME DIALOGUES. ARAMINTA. sir. Prestpent. I didn’t say you had. ~ ARAmINTA, You don’t amvunt to much as a president. You're not as good as Sam Jones. (Sits down.) So now! PresipeNnt. WhileI sit in the presidential chair of this s’ciety, I intend to stand up alongside of the constitution and defend it to the best of my ability. These remarks are calcu- ‘lated to make meangry. Itis only by extraordinary exertions that I am enabled to overcome my feelin’s and proceed calmly and placidly to the work which lies before me. Will any one move that the minutes be adopted? Sam. (Rises.) I rise, not to move that the minutes be adopted, but to move that they be wiped out, trampled under foot, annihilated, and flung under the table in disgust. ARAMINTA. (2ises.) I second the motion. PRESIDENT. It hus been moved that the minutes of the last meetin’ be spit upon and wiped out—pitched into the gutter in disgust, assassinated, annihilated, and otherwise abused. Is that the motion, Mr. Jones? Sam, That's not quite the words, but that’ll do. -The sentiment’s the same. PRESIDENT. Are you ready to vote? This is an important question. Shall the minutes stand or shall they fall? Shall Sally Sloper receive a blow as a writer of minutes, or shall Sara Jones receive a blow as president? It is an important question, and I call upon you all to vote. All those in favor of pitchin’ the minutes under the table will say ay. (Sam and ARAMINTA vole ay.) Those opposed will say no. (All » the others vete no.) Tiere! you see how it has come out. Miss Sloper is triumphantly vindicated, and the s’ciety says her minutes are all right. I will therefore say that the min- utes are adopted. Sam. (fzses.) Mr. President, this is an outrage. My fair name has been blackened—my reputation as a president has been destroyed, my— i PrResiDeNT. Sit down, Sam, sitdown. I reckon it’s purty hard to endure, but there’s no other way. The matter has been adjusted. (Sam seats himself.) The reg’lar performances are now in order. Miss Mewilda Melvina McGibber will read an original poem on “* The Old School-House.” MEWILDA. (Rises and reads.) (Springing up.) I haven’t the rheumatism, THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. Down in the valley there is a big pond, , y Where the tadpoles are swimming so free; And some years ago, beside that big pond, There was an old sycamore tree. ~ : pele enn pti ang teat sane Pca tsb ee PHILOMALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY. And ten rods away from that old sycamore tree, There was an old school-house, kinder red, Where the boys and the girls went to school every day, But, alas! a good many of them are now dead. Oh, those were the days, and those were the times! What oceans and oceans of fun! They fished in the pond, they hunted hickory nuts, And over the hills they did run, And often they'd play when the master was away— They’d play at such things as keeping school, Then they’d run on the hills and down by the pond, Where everything was tolerably cool. TS | But those days are all past—alas! they are gone | And there isn’t the fun nowadays ; That there was when we all went down there to school, And got whipped by Schoolmaster Hayes. Jim Wilkins was married to Eliza Jane Park, And they went out to Kansas to dwell, And Mary McGinnis, she went the same way, And was tied by the preacher to John Bell. Yes, those days are all past—they ar2 gone, they are gone! Yes, they are gone—true as preaching—they are! And I feel very sad when I sit and gaze out And look at the old school-house from afar. (MmwinpA seats herself.) Present. That's a good piece of po’try—first-rate, and Bulgertown ought to be proud because Miss McGubber resides here, and because she is a member of the Literary Society. The next performance will be another poem, by Daniel Dex- ter. Daniel rise and go ahead with your poem. DANIEL. (Rises and reads :) - Lknow a cheerful, pleasant girl; Oh, she is very fair! She lives inside a big brick house, ys And I like to go there. 2. I like to touch her blooming cheek . As bumbees touch the clover. Alas! she has another beau— I’d like to knock him over. This cheerful girl has raven hair And ob such starry eyes! And then, such doughnuts as she makes, And oh, such apple pies! ee eS Sore Sg Pern rs ae i THE DIME DIALOGUES. The t’other chap would like to win And tear our hearts asunder; Oh, how I’d like to take my fist And knock him clean to thunder! Oh, I should weep if I should lose This darling little creature; And so I think we'll settle it By going to the preacher. If t other chap should get ahead And be the first to ask her; I think I’d keock him instantly Away to Madagascar. (DANIEL seats himself.) PRESIDENT. That’s another good picce of po’try. I didn’t know we had so many poets in Bulgertown. The next per- formance on the list is the debate. The secretary will read the question. : Miss SuoperR. (Heads.) Should the Capital of the United States be removed to Bulgertown? Affirmative—G@. Washing- ton Woppleton. Negative—B. Franklin Dewsenberry. PRESIDENT. Mr. G. Washington Woppleton will open the debate. Wasuineton. (ises.) Ladies and gentlemen of the Bul- gertown Lilerary Society :—The question is, ‘‘ Should the Capi- tol of the United States be removed to Bulgertown?” Yes, that’s the question—that’s it exactly, and I as a Bulgertowner, say that it should. Bulgertown is rising. Bulgertown will soon stand out as one of the most prominent places upon the face of the rolling globe. Some people say that the globe doesn’t roll, but I say it does, If the world is round like a ball or an apple—and everybody that has studied geographics and hydrostatics knows that it is—then why can’t it roll just as well as a ball or an apple? The world is round, only it is sorter flattened at the poles. J am not just able to state why the world is flattened at the poles, but I suppose it is . because— Presiwent. Mr. Woppleton, you are off the question. The question isn’t about worlds and poles, but about the Capitol of the United States, Where should the Capitol be? In Washingtown or Bulgertown? WASHINGTON. (Continuing.) In Bulgertown, of course. I stand up for Bulgertown on all occasions. Bulgertown is rising, and before many years it will be a great place. We can hear of people moving into Bulgertown who never moved in before. And why shouldn’t the Capitol of the United States move in? The iron horse will pretty soon snort in Bul- gertown, and when the iron horse snorts in a place, you may know that that place is bound to rise. The eyes of the world — 0 a Sa oat Bk PHILOMALIAN LITERARY SOCIETY. 23 | are now resting on Bulgertown. Such being the case, shouldn’t the Capitol of the United States be moved from Washington and sot down here? If the Capitol was here we would have the big men of the nation here, and this would cause butter and eggs to rise. I tell you, butter and eggs ought to goup. J can’t get more than twenty-five cents @ dozen for eggs at Thompson’s grocery, and that’s not enough. If I can’t get more than that, Vl kill every hen 1 have. PrestpeNt. Mr. Woppleton, stick to the question. . WaAsHINGTON. That’s what I’m trying to do, but somehow it gets away from me. Well, as I said before, let us have the _ Capitol moved right here into Bulgertown. Let us have it ' right on the corner of Pasture Lane and Main street, just opposite Mc@lackerty’s grocery and the Stebbins photograph _ gallery, and then we will have good times, and the price of _ eggs willgoup. Ihave done. (WASHINGTON seats himself.) PreswweNt. Mr. B. Franklin Dewsenberry will now speak on the negative of the question. E FRANKLIN. (Zises.) Should the Capitol of the United States be removed to Bulgertown? Decidedly, no—emphati- cally no/ Let the Capitol stand where it is. Would you pile a debt of millions and millions of dollars upon the already suffering citizens of the United States by tearing down the Capitol buildings, hauling them away down here and setting _ them up again in sucha place as Bulgertown? No, never! _ Ifyou would do so, the American eagle would scream in terror, indignation and disgust. Let the Capitol stand in Washington, I’m not sure, but I think that General George W. Washington himself laid the corner-stone, and if such is’ the case, would you now tear down the building? Would you destroy what General George W. Washington commenced to build? Would you? It seems to me that if you should so | degrade yourselves, the great American bird of Independence _ would give one long groan of disgust and despair, and then lie down and die. It seems to me that if you would do this detestable work, the Stars and Stripes would never wave out, again upon the breeze with the same pride and the same joy. it seems to ime that if you would commit this barbaric deed, the nation would sink out of sight and go down in the black- ness of obscurity. Let the Capitol stand where it is. Right- eous laws have emanated from that place. Brave men, wise men have stood there and battled for the right. Let the Capitol stand in honor of those whose gifted tongues that have made the wails ring with sublime bursts of eloquence. Let the Capitol stand to commemorate the deeds of the brave ones who stood ready to uphold and defend the national life and _ ‘the national honor. And now, ladies and gentlemen, | turn _ to the other place—T turn to Bulgertown. And what's Bulger- _ town? An out-of-the-way place—a village with probably five © 24 THE DIME DIALOGUES. . or six hundred inhabitants. There’s not a railroad track within three miles of the place. The scream of the iron horse cannot be heard by the villagers except when the wind is blowing in the right direction. Talk of removing the Capitol of a great and glorious nation to such a place as this! I shud- der and feel depressed when such a thing is spoken of. I emphatically denounce the proposition, The man who first voiced the idea should hide his head in the mantle of ob- scurity. His name will doubtless be handed down from generation to generation as one who would wipe out all our national glory and our national honor. . , i say again, let the Capitol stand. Touch not a single stone in its massive walls. It has resounded with the eloquence of statesmen and orators whom the nation has delighted to honor. i say, let it stand and let the Star Spangled Banner wave in joyful triumph above it’s mighty dome. [ have done. . (FRANKLIN seats himself.) Present. Purty good for Mr. Dewsenberry. Are the performances all over, Miss Sloper? Miss Suoprmr. Yes, sir. é PRESIDENT. Then, I reckon the next thing to do is to adjourn the meetin’. SAM. (Rises.) I rise to a point of order. Miss SLOPER. (ises.) I rise to a privileged question. PRESIDENT. (Nonplused.) Privileged question! What's. that, agin? Sam. I rose first, and I rose to a point of order. Presmpent. I railly don’t know what that is. Never heerd of sich a thing. Sam. Ican tell you, Mr. President— : Miss Storer. (/2vitedly) Make him sit down, He’sa nuisance—he hain’t no right to talk. Sam. (Shouting.) I have, sir, I havel (The memlers all : rise to their feet, very much excited, and shout ‘* Order!” “Order!” “Stop! “Order!” ‘Keep your seats.”) PRESIDENT. (Stamping and shouting.) Order! Order! Order! (The members shout and scream, the boys whistle.) SEVERAL Mempers. Order! Order! Stop the fuss! Ad- journ the meeting! (Members shout, boys whistle.) _ PRESIDENT. Yes, we’re adjourned. The meetin’s bu’sted. ( Curtain.) sfbssaseie tegen WISE AND OTHERWISE. ack | rse | " is } WISE AND OTHERWISE. itol 7 { FOR SIX LITTLE BOYS. rst First Boy. = Boys have an awful time, I think; study, work and run; ur And they’re scolded half the time, never have much fun. : Then our lessons are so long, teachers cross and mad, ne If no school-house there could be, wouldn’t I be glad! Now, I’m wishing to grow up; lessons none to say, of ; ae Then no working have to do; play time all the day. in For I cannot do my sums, cannot tell each rule, 12, And I cannot, cannot learn: what’s the use of school? he Sreconp Boy. What a silly boy you are; thus such thoughts to give; t Don’t our parents have to work, so that we may live? ° | They have harder things to do, have less time than we: Were they shirkers, such as you, worse ow; lot would be. When you've heavy tasks to do, never sit and mope; ¥ But strive to conquer them at once, never give up hope. a “ Cannot” is a coward’s word, used by no brave man— Put your shoulder to the wheel!’ Always say “I can!” a Turrp Boy, : But, when frolics we would have, school-bell then will a | sound; z 4 Or, some errands must be done—alwags so, I’ve found. Lt If the ice-pond we would seek, there to skate all day, ) Or the play-ground to play ball, quick we're called away. + Some one’s wanting this or that; studies must be learned— | ae Guess we youngsters learn 400 much, school-books should be ts burned! - 2 Oh, how grateful I shall be in bidding school .good-by! i And I’m longing for that day, wishing time would fly. if F Fourts Boy. What a simpleton you’d be, dullard like old White, For he cannot even read, neither can he write; - And he hated all his books, idled when at school, See how ignorant he is! People call him fool / __- Old faults clinging to him still, labors he would shirk, . oss Now he grumbles ’cause he’s poor; seldom will he work; He is loafing half his time, telling tales untrue— Are you thinking 47s life fine, envy him do you? 26 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Firra Boy. Are you thinking we are wrong, that we wish to be Free from study and from work, to be grown and free? I'd not pattern by old White; better would J grow; Bea gentleman like pa. How much more he does know! And I’m counting all the years, pining for the day When my school days all are past; too long youth does stay. Tis a siaeeees thought to know | shall then enjoy Perfect freedom and my rights, then no more a boy. Sixt Boy. Jt is wickedness to want pleasant hours to haste, For in wishing them away, present hours we waste. Oh, our happy boyhood’s days: Blessings on them all! Soon, too soon, they will be past, gone beyond recall. if in manhood we'd be great, studies should be joys Tis a saying, very wise, ‘‘ men are made from boys.” While you envy grown-up men, often they will sigh, And are wishing boyhood’s days had not all gone “by. Frrst Boy. Yes, I reckon you are right; many joys have I. Now, my lessons won’t seem hard, if to Jearn I try. There are pleasant spots enough in a school-boy’s life. We’ve more pleasures than we’ve pains; men nave many & strife. Turrp AND Firra Boys. There is wisdom in those words, spoken from the heart. Now to conquer ¢die traits we will do our part. What a foolish set of boys you’ve proven us to be! Ser wor study, might and main; and work? yes, cheer- ully! Srconp Boy. Keep that purpose in your mind; never to sloth yield; Let the maxim, ‘‘ Work and Win,” be upon your shield; If the struggle seems too hard, falter not nor fear! But press onward to the goal, you’!] have hope for cheer. They are bravest who will strive noblest lives to live— Who will never—though ill come, away to failure give. Let old ‘‘ Cannot” hide his head! Stand you like a man! “Put your shoulder to the wheel, and always say ‘I can!” (Beeunt.) MOONSHINE. MOONSHINE. A JINGLE FOR SIX LITTLE GIRLS. First Grreu. Now, wouldn’t I like to live in the moon, And have for my servants, the stars so bright; Througb cold December, and pleasant June, While, swift through the air I take my flight. 4 To see if a man in the moon does dwell, And what kind cf a wife he chanced to wed; If she treats her children to candy and ‘‘ jell,” Or spanks them quite soundly when they go to bed. If I were up there | would teach them all The fun and frolic we have down here; I would teach them to throw the tennis ball, And jolly croquet their hearts should cheer. SEcoND GIRL. Do you think they have schools ’way up in the Moon? And spell great words a hundred miles long? And what can they play in recess, at noon? Do they freeze folks to death when they do wrong? Why don’t they tell people away down here, Of all their whatabouts away up there? If the moon 7s as bright as it doth appear, And what is it holds it up high in the air? And where does it go, when the night is gone? Do the circus clowus go frisking about All over the Moon from night till Morn? I would really like to find this all out. THIRD GIRL. T. would like to go there if I had my own way, And could have every single one of my wishes; I would not like to go if I never could play, And Mrs. Moon set me to washing the cishes, Because, don’t you know, I do not like to work, And I never could bear hard lessons to learn; For, to tell you the truth, Ma says I’m a shirk, And my clothing and food J never could earn. As I don’t like a scolding throughout the whole year, V’'ll turn o’er a new leaf, and that very soon; If I really must work, I would rather stay here; So I don’t very much care to go to the Moon. THE DIME DIALOGUES, FourtH Grew. If you never will tell, I tell you, Z guess That dear and good Santa Claus makes it his home *Way up in the Moon, and he has his express That with tiny reindeer doth merrily roam All over his planet, with caper and bound, To cheer iittle folks who love candies and toys, And it’s Christmas up there just all the year round, Roast turkey and pudding, and all of such joys. Perhaps we would weary of fun ai/ the time, Just as we now do, sometimes, of our play; ‘ There are reasons in seasons,” thus says the old rhyme, So, ‘77 be content on this Old World to stay. Firra Girt. e ( A telescope, large, we have at our home, : And papa’s sure to peep through iteach pleasant night; |, It shows him the stars that in heavens do roam, { And the Moon, and many a brilliant sight. He says that the Moon is a worn out globe, And not a soul lives there, as he can see; There is not a sign of a person’s abode;— In such a dull place I’d not wish to be. T asked him, one beautiful, starlit night, _ If the Man in the Moon he ever couid trace? For J could see him—he’s quite a sight— ‘* Oh, that is all moonshine,” said pa, with grimace. pines tite SrxrH Grey. Try ever so hard, we couldn’t get there; There is never a road to the moon, you'll find; ‘ Here we have pleasures the fullest share, With parents and teachers, both good and kind. Let us be content with our pleasant lives, And with this pleasant world, so full of love; Be busy bees in our sweetest hives, a Until we are called to our home Above. Let us strive to be helpful, and good and true, : And make others happy, from care set free; ~ Just as the Lord would wish us to do— d Just as the Lord would wish us to be! A do-vn in high time, or they’ll be a-ridin’ over us rough shod, BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON. 29 BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON; oR, A LESSON IN SLEEZY SILK. FOR FOUR MALE CHARACTERS. -Tus ScENE 7s swpposed to represent a country road. (Znter FARMER FuutTon and Farmer DALton, meeting.) F. F. Wal, Neighbor Dalton, how's the dewin’s all along down your way? F. D. Wal, Neighbor Fulton, I duano as J can tell ye any news. Folks is being born, and gettin’ married, and goin’ - dead jest as they have since Cain and Abel was youngsters, an’ I dunno but such’ll be the case till this old world peters out. It’s human natur’, an’ I s’pose it’s suthin’ we'll have to - bear whether we like it or not. Goin’ todo much plantin’ this spring? F. F. No, I wa’n’t callillatin’ to do much in that line; I had such uacummon poor luck last year. Fact is, ’m e’en- a’most discouraged, and feel like givin’ up trying. What’s the use of slavin’ your life out all spring and summer and not raise enough for autumn and winter? Sich work as that ‘ere is, don’t pay; there’s no profit in it. A critter might as well die lazy as die tired, and have a heap moré fun while he does live. ; F.D. Your head is level, neighbor. You express my sentiments exactly. Among the new-fangled labor-saving machines, why don’t some feller invent one for making money without working for it? Id tackle to it quick and sudden, -and I wouldn't let goin a hurry, either. But, if sich a thing was to be invented, I shouldn’t never hear of it, for I don’t never have no luck noways. The only fortune as ever knocked at my door was misfortune, and she’s called there a pesky sight too often, and don’t you forget it. F.F. An’ my old woman seems to be allus ailin’, She only has to milk half a dozen cows, feed the shoats, and git meals for half a dozen of us, and make some butter and cheese and do the washin’ and ironin’ and mendin’ and knittin’ for us all. Women ain’t so rugged and tough as they used to ‘was. She was actually extravagant enough to ask if I couldn’t let her have a hired girl so she could rest awhile. Jest as though I was a reckless millionaire and could afford such a useless luxury. F. D. I tell you, these women’s notions has got to be put f , — 30 THE DIME DIALOGUES. They’ll be wantin’ the moon, next thing you hear tell on. My wife wanted some make-believe flowers or vinktum choodles to put on her hat; but I told her I needed cll my spare change for tobacker, ’cause the doctor thought I had a spine in my back, and tobacker would keep it from growing up iato my brain and a-chokin’ of me to death. What an awful thing that would be, to be sure! (Huter StEnzy SriiK.) 8. S Surely, I cannot be mistaken; your names are Jinks and Wobbles, are they not? F. F. You're wrong there, mister, cause you see as how our names happen to be Fulton and Dalton, for want of better es. 8. S. Well, I never was a good hand to remember names. But, if 1am mistaken in the names, I am surely not in you, yourselves, for I see the same noble, honest countenances, the same noble, intelligent foreheads, and the manly dignity and probity stamped upon your expressions that were described to me by your worthy countryman, and dealer in all sorts of country produce. F. D. Do you mean Jake Lomax that keeps the corner store? F, F. And did he say all that you've been a tellin on, of us? 8. 8. Certainly he did. Why should he not? F,D. Ocxly asked for information. (Aside.) “What can have got into Jake? Last time as I see’d him he refused me credit for a quart of merlasses. F.F. (Aside) Guess Jake’s gone crazy, or-he thinks we've struck it rich, somewheres. Last time I asked him to trust me a little longer, he wouldn’t do it, and up and told me if I worked harder and worked longer, ’d have more money or truck to pay my honest debts with. F. D. Was you a-lookin' for us? If so, what might be your business? 8.8. Iwas looking for some honest, level-headed gentle- men who knew a good thing when they saw it, and you two were recommended to me as just the ones I was in search of. 1 am agent of the Cheribusco Commonwealth Society, and would like to sell some stock in the same. F. F. What’s the object of the critter, squire? S.S. It is a grand scheme, a glorious scheme! Such a scheme as has not been heard of since Christopher Columbus went to schoo! with Queen Ferdinand. Of course you have both heard of the Garden of Eden? F. D. Sartingly, we’ve read of it, often and often. It’s mighty interestin’ readin’. 8. 8S. So far, so good. It has always been a great mystery lita et sn imitans dln ope 1 Algal | BP Vs te ere eC RPU eS Po BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON. 31 where that garden was really situated. You sce, if ¢¢ was found, there would be such arush of visitors that it would pay to fix up the place, build up a mammoth hotel right where Eve had her interview with the serpent, and there’d be heaps and heaps of money in the scheme. The site of the garden has been discovered. Some wealthy capitalists have bought up the land, but money is needed to refit the grounds, charter steamboats, build the hotel, skating-rink, billiard- saloon, the toboggan-slide and the thousand and one incidental expenses. So shares must be sold. Stock is worth one hun dred dollars; but that is a mere paltry sum, for, for ever: hundred dollars invested there wiil be thousands come in return, It is actually a case of having a fortune without pete obliged to perform the ‘difficult task of having to work or it. F.F. Jest what my neighbor and me was a-talkin’ about _ when you happened along. 8.8. Well, here is just the chance come to your very door. Don’t let it slip your notice, for such a chance may never happen again. It is better to take a share now, than wish, in the future, when all the shares are sold, that you had taken one. F.D. If it ain’t no powerful secret, might a body ask where this Garden of Eden is situated? ; 8.8. No secret, whatever. The scientific people are firmly convinced that it is situated in the Arctic regions. F. D. Wal, men, if that don’t beat all git cout! Why, leetle as I know of the circumference of the airth, I do know that the Artic regions is nothing but a mass of ice and snow. How could Adam and Eve live there with so little clothing as they had, and what could they have raised to live on? §. 8. It has been proved, without doubt or cavil, that the Arctic regions were as warm as tue climate of the South is, but the earth itself has been swinging into a different latitude; and, by degrees, the northern zone became what the land now is. Now, doesn’t it stand to reason that the world may swing back again, and Eden will be as beautiful as it was in the days of our first parents? Think of its future possibilities. Lots can be sold, all kinds of buildings ereeted, horse-rail- ways, steam-cars, electric lights, ete. And, all you have to do is to sit at your ease and scoop in the profits. Don’t vou see it in that light? Could anything be clearer? F. F. Wal, but jest look-a-here, mister. If it’s took so many thousand years for the Artics to git cold, what's {o hen- der its takin’ as many years for it to git het up again? I’d be © dead by that\time,so what good would my share do me, then? 8. 8. Iam surprised! I may say that I am perfectly elec- trified at your asking such a question! Is it possible that a \ - 82 THE DIME DIALOGUES. man of your intelligence and keen research has not heard of the new invention for heating up regions, which will make icebergs and snow-clad mounts disappear before it, ‘‘ like chaff before the wind?” Excuse me for quoting Scripture, but I am areligious man, and the sayings, so dear to my heart, will pop out once in awhile. This heating machine is to be put into operation in the Arctic regions, and then the snowy waste will blossom like a young bay tree. F.F. Jest see what it is to be book larned, and to travel about from place to place, and know what’s going on in the world! Here we might have lived and died, and never knowed there was such a machine on the fcotstoo:, unless you had come across us and told us of the fact. 8.8. So can yow travel, too; so can you know what is going on when your thousands begin to pourin. ‘‘ Be wise in time; ‘tis folly to delay,” as Solomon said to Queen Sheba. F.D. Wal, now, your scheme seems a good thing, an’ I feel like a-ketchin’ on to it. But’twould be mighty bard work for me to raise a hundered dollars, ‘cause | ain’t very well off in worldly goods. But I’ve got a colt I’ve been offered that sum for, and I’ve a good mind to sell it and try my luck in your Eden plan, To he sure, the money | hoped to get for the little creetur, I’d planned to lay out in payin’ the interest on the mortgage of my farm, payin’ some bills and fixin’ up my place a little, for it’s a sure fact the place does need fixin’, ‘specially the fences ard barn and house. 8. S. Surely, these things can afford to wait. A few months cannot make much difference. In the autumn you will begin to receive the first fruits of your investment, and this time next year you will see avast difference in your fortune, and never, never will you regret the day you took a share in this money-yielding scheme that everybody who has a chance is investing in. F. D. I’vea heap ofa mind to dicker with ye, mister, It’s only a sprat to catch a whale, as a man may say. The man lives clost to me, and he is willing to take the colt at any time and pay cash for it; so come along o’ me, mister, and we'll make the trade and fix up the writings. But, you needn’t let on to my old woman about the matter, ’cause she might be inclined to raise some objections. Women never can see into sich schemes. Their heads ain’t built that way. 8. S. I will go with you and the affair shall be kept as a profound secret. And now (to F. F.), my good sir, are you not as willing and ready to clutch this golden prize as your neighbor here is? F. F. Yes, indeed! I’m jest as willin’, but I can’t say I’m jest as ready. I’m like the man who could have bought the ke ke re, rt, be vy rel he U, ct BEWARE OF MR, OILY GAMMON. 33 City of Chicago fora pair of boots, but he didn’t have the boots at the time; and I ain’t got no colt to sell. So, you see, I’m stumped. S. §. Isn’t there some way of raising the amount? Do not, oh, do not, Jet this glorious chance flit by you! I have the interest of the farmers too near to my heart to allow me to deprive them of feathering their nest. Think once more, my _ worthy friend—think hard. F. F.. Can’t seem to think of any way to raise them hun- died dollars. Too much for my grip. F. D. Wasn't you a-tellin’ me there was some money in _ the bank on account of your brother’s boy, for which ye are legal guardeen? F. F. Yes, I did; but that money ain’t mine. F. D. But it is put in the bank in your name, and you can draw it out. Your nephew won't be home till the fall to draw it. F. F. But, that would be stealing, wouldn't it? © 8. 8. Nota bit of it! It will only be borrowing it until the autumn. When your nephew comes hame, it will be alk ready for him, and you can have enough to pay the interest On it besides; so, you’ll be even better off than your neighbor, orif you had a colt, for you will not be laying out any of your own money, and yet be gaining a pretty big pile. F. F. Wal, I see it is all right now. Whata head you have got for helpin’ a feller out of a tight spot.. We can ealk at the bank on our way to the colt. Needn’t say anything to the old woman, if you should happen to see der. Wimmen, ye know, don't know ’bout sich things. S. S. (Winking slyly.) My dear sir, there’s no need to caution me > for I’m a married man myself. Let us proceed to business. (Aside.) ‘‘ A fool and his money soon parted,” “ Where ignorance is bliss, ’twere folly to be wise.” (Hxeunt.) Scene Seconp.—The same as the first, several months later. (2nter FARMERS Futon and Dauron, meeting.) F. D. Heard anything about your share in the Cheery - Bu’st and Go Company, neighbor? F. F. No, I haven’t, and I want to do so pow’ful bad, ‘cause I expect my nephew home to-morrow, and I ain’t. got hide nor hair of cash to pay him with. I didn’t plant’ any- _ thing to amount to shucks, last spring, because I thought sure we'd get some returns from our Artic Eden, _ FD. [min the same fix myself. The interest money on 34 THE DIME DIALOGUES. the mortgage is some months overdue, and where I’m goin’ to raise it, 1 don’t know. If ‘tain’t paid, I’m afeard there'll te a fereclosure, and then me and my Joved ones will be thrown on the charities of a cold, unfeelin’ world, and we may round up on the poeor-farm, and be buried in pauper’s graves, F. F. You think the scheme is all safe, don t you—that it is a dead sure thing and no humbug? Fe D. Safe? Why, of course, it’s all safe! Taven’t we got receipts for our money, and certificates of stock? » 1 guess some of the machinery has got out of order and waits oiling. Don't you never go to having no fears about gettin’ more than the vally of your money. If wecould only jest get over our present diffikilties, well be sure to come out on top cf the heap. We must do our level best and look to luck to fix the rest. F. EF. That’s kind 0’ comfortin’ poetry; but I don’t see as how it is goin’ to help usin our present straits. *Twould ’a’ been kind o’ handy if we'd planted some things last spring, and then there'd been more clear profit for us. F. D. I guess we shan't feel so biue after we get some re- turns from our Eden stock. F. F. Wal, yes, when we do get ’em. Oh, good sakes} ‘Whatever can I tell my nephew when he comes to me te ac- count for my stewardship? Ishall feel jest like the prodigious son we read about in Scriptur’. F. B. Why, tell your nephew the plain, honest, sober, downright truth, aud ask him to wait till we hear from the stock. You can also give him part of your shares for the ac- commoda‘ion of waitin’. Ive been a-thinkin’ of brazenin’ matters out, and trusting te chance, cause I don’t see what better we can do. Then, when we get ourmoney from Eden, we can put our thumbs into the armboles of our vests and wiggle our fingers to our heart’s content, and turn up our noses at the sneers and jeers, the kicks and cuffs we have had, and pay ’em back with compound interest. FF. F. There zs some kind o’ comfort in payin’ off old - grudges; but it would bea plaguey sight handier if I could bay em off at this present time, or if I had the money to pay with. . F. D. Wal don’t get discouraged, and down-hearted and glum. Somethin’ will tury up; of that I am sart‘in sure, (Enter FanMern Turi ry.) ¥. T. . Well, a Dalton, I. suppese you know that the extended time I allowed you, for paying the interest on the mortgage, has expired. Have you the money for me? If not, I’m afraid I shall have to foreclose, as I haye had a good offer to sell. ’ re, ie bn a ok? oe ot ehh BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON, 85 F. D. Come, now, don’t be too hard with a man. Jest wait a leetle longer, can’t ye? : F. T. Havel ever been hard with you, Dalton? Ihave put up with your excuses, and given you extensions until ’m fairly worn out. I don’t see what more ehance you have in the future to pay me than you have now. F. D. Wal, i spose I shall have to tell you, altho” I meant to keep it a secret until I could be even with the richest men, and might be able to lend money to those I now borrow of, and flap my wings and crow over some folks, like a victorious rooster! Fact is, E expect to become in possession of sudden riches. F. T. Surely, that is the best of all good news, and I shalk wish you joy of your good fortune, when you get it. Some rich relation going to remember you in his will? F. D. Ob, you needn’t sneer, for it’s sue to come. ¥.T. Perhaps your rich relation is already dead? F. D. Yow haven’t hit it exactly this time, neighbor. F.T. Might i ask how the good fortune is to come? F.F. Fact is, Neighbor Dalton and me has run ag’in’ & streak o’ luck, and struck it rich. F.T. Well, that 7s: news--and never-expected news— Indeed. Hope it will have more solid foundation than seme i have beard of reeently. Some folks have thought they have discovered a honey cell, which has. only proved another kind of a cell > and, depending too much om it, got put into a jaik cell for lack of money to pay their honest debts. It makes me think of a sell put upon poor, silly and ignorant men by « sharper who was too wise to endeavor to play his tricks om persons welf informed. And low any one could be fook quer to be taken in by such @ transparent fraud is past my en. F. D. What was you referring to, neighbor? F.T. Why, making out that the Garden of Eden was situated in the Arctic regions; and that these regions could be heated by artificial means to such an extent that the former | . garden would bloom into a eity, and there would be hotels, opera houses, railways, electric lights: and things like that. It. was: the silliest scheme I ever heard of. I hear there were a nuraber of sbares sold at a hundred dollars apiece. But the fooled stockholders will whistle for their money, as the scamps. who got up the fraud are now behind prison bars, and it'll be many @ year before they are free men again, It serves © the rascals right, and i don’t have any sympathy with those Jy 8) J who took shares, for it they were fools enough to be taken ix by such an absurd fraud, they deserve to lose tkeir - money. ; F. D. You don’t mean to say the shareholders have been bamboozled, _and that. their money is lost? Y 7 36 THE DIME DIALOGUES. FP F.'f. That’s just what I do mean to say, and just exactly what I do mean. F.D. Why, I sold my colt last spring, and gave the agent of that scheme the hundred dollars I got for it; and I expected a dividend, right away, so I could pay you the interest if not the whole money due on the mortgage. F. F. And I drew out my nephew's money to take a share, feeling sure it would come back to me in time to make the Joan good. Now, I feel just as though I was a swindler, and robbing my dear brother’s child. Can he have me put in prison for that? : ¥F. T. I believe be could; but I do not know as he would. F.D. It seems jest as though I was on the road to the poor-house. I don’t see how it is some folks have the luck of ‘gettin’ along, and gettin’ higher every day, like you; while other folks—like me and my neighbor—always keep poor, and keep gettin’ lower down the hill every day. F. T. Thereis no duck whatever about it. Almost every one has the same opportunities, if they will but make the right use of them. If you do not sow good seed at seed-time, how can you expect good fruit when the harvest comes? You have been too apt to chase shadows and leave the substance alone. Your farmsare good, and, if you were willing to work them, they would yield as much as any one’s. Save the money you squander on foolish things, or impractical schemes; don’t neglect the crops in your own fields, to invest in shares in places where crops can never be made to grow; don’t try to get rich allata bound. ‘‘Slow ard sure” has always teen” my motto, and-it has been faithful to me at all times. ¥. That’s hearty, good advice to those as can follow it; but, to us it comes too late. There’s nothing left but poer- house hash for us as fur as I can see. F. T. ‘It is never too late to mend.” Although I am not one to believe that evil should be done that good may come of it, yet out of evil good often does come. 1 believe you have — had one of the best Jessons you could receive. Now, if you will take the lesson to heart, and turn over the new leaf, you will find me to be the one to help you keep the fresh pages clear. Tell the whole truth to your nephew, for ‘‘an open confession is good for the soul.” And to you, Neighbor D.,I | will give you a little more time. F.D. That’s kind and hearty, but I don’t see where I’m goin’ to git the money hereafter. F. F. NorI, nuther, to pay my nephew. F. T. I shall need a lot of wood-chopping done in my tim- 5 : her lot, and will hire you to do it this winter, and pay you | fair wages, and that will be some help to you in paying your Jiabilities. Then, when spring comes, go to work on your } farms, like men; and see how much wealth you can get out of - UMD ee OS we = 2 or oe oe ii, a SP BEWARE OF MR. OILY GAMMON, 387 good old Mother Earth, who never goes back on her friends. Don’t sow your seeds on visionary schemes, only to harvest failure and loss, but sow only where you are sure of having good returns. If you agree to this, and desire to follow my advice, come with me and look over my tim der lot. F.D I’m with you, and I’m obleeged to ye for helping me out of my scrape. You don’t ketch me meddlin’ with any more speculations. F. T. Consarn that sleek, feller as swindled us, and I was a fool of a fish to bite at such bait.. Now I’m goin’ to roll ey shirt-sleeves, and let elbow-grease serve me to get a iving. F.T. That is solid sense. And if any more of the Oily Gammon agents come along —what then? F.F. I'll kick him so fur into next county that the coroner can’t find him. F. D. And Ill keep tar an’ feathers hot fer sich, an’ may the good Lord never forgive me if I’m ever taken in ag’in by the palaverin’ scamps. F. T. Stick to that resolveand you are safe. The occupa- tion of such nuisances would be gone if everybody would at once turn their backs on any scheme that promises ten dollars gain for one invested. ¥.D. True as gospil! An’ now fer the dollars that come out of honest work an’ an honest life. (Ziveunt.) - “ THE DIME DIALOGUES. SARAH HANNAH; oR, SENSIBLE AT LAST. FOR FOUR FEMALE CHARACTERS. Characters: —Mrs. MARKER; BELLA, AGNES, SARAH HANNAH, her daughters, THE ScENE 7s supposed to represent a plainly-furnished apart- ment. (AaNES and BELLA enter.) A. Heigho! B. Why that dismal, doleful, long-drawn sigh? A. Iwas thinking of Sarah Hannah. B. Is she such a gloomy subject? If you were wishing you were in her shoes and then thinking how different our lot is, compared to hers, I don’t wonder you ‘* Heigho!” A. It seems all like a fairy tale. Something like ‘‘Cin- | derella” and ‘‘ Beauty and the Beast.” B. Meaning that Sarah Hannah represents Cinderella and — Beauty. Well, they are alike so far as having good-fortune, and they all had sisters, although you and | have never had much chance to be proud ones; and, instead of Sarah Hannalz having to wait on us, we had to knuckle down to her. —Cin- derella and Beauty were rewarded for working; Sarah Hannah gained her good-fortune by shirking. The girls, in the fairy tales, had to do all the drudgery; Sarah Hannah has not. The proud sisters tried to put them down; but our proud ~ sister has been endeavoring to put us down. 4 A. You are right.in saying that Sarah Hannah has © escaped all the drudgery; for, ever since I can remember any- thing, our sister must not wash dishes or pick berries, or do — anything to hurt her delicate and lady-like hands, and, on sunny days, she has never been allowed to go out doors with-_ out a vail, lest sbe should injure her complexion or mar the beauty of her nose with freckles. B. Well, we must say it has been good for her, because — our fastidious Aunt Minnie took her to live with her, to dress — her in fine clothes, to send her to school, pet and caress her, — ta show her airs and graces: before company, and, in the end, make a city lady of her. 4 A Well, some rich folks pet dogs and some pet girls; fashions change in dogs, so I’ve heard, and then the style of dog is changed. Perhaps it will be the same with girls. _ ‘Sarah Hannah girls may be in fashion to-day and out of SARAH HANNAH. fashion to-morrow. After all, our sister is but a dependent, and Aunt Minnie is full of whims and caprices, and awfully exacting. B. Never fear but Sarah Hannah will keep on the right side of Aunt Minnie, and Aunt Minnie will not have to do all the petting and caressing, either. A. And don’t you ever envy Sarah Hannah? B. Idon't know asIdo. I like nice clothes and pretty things as well as any one else, buf I’d -much sooner work 10 win them than be dependent on others for them, and made to feel that dependence. It is not in my nature to cringe, although I have often had to do so where Sarah Hannah has been concerned. A. And wouldn’t you like to change places with Sarah Hannah? . B, Notas she is placed. Id sooner pay in work for what I get than in compliments, playing the sycophant and be a nobody but a poor relative. A. Perhaps you are right; but, seems to me, I shouldn’t be so very particular iow | got the good things of life, so long as 1 did get them, Not to have the -good things is a great mortification sometimes—that you and | both know. B. You are young yet, Agnes. You will have to learn the -stern lesson that poverty with honor is better than riches with rride. (Enter Mrs. Marker.) Mrs. M. Well, girls, I’ve heerd from Sarah Hanner! A. Atiast! I should think it was high time, too. What Coes she say? But I suppose she writes in such a high flown strain, and uses so many big words, we shall have to leave off every minute to look in the Dictionary, to find out what she means, we are such ‘‘ poor, igaorant creetur’s.” _ Mrs. M. It isn’t much she’s written, anyway, and I’ve only _ just skimmed it over, for I hadn’t my specs with me; and I _ thought you’d read it out to us, and then we could all enjoy it. (Hands letter to AGNES.) A. (Reading.) ‘‘My Dear Ma:--I shouid have written _ to you before, but I have had so much to do and so much to think of, I haven’t found the time.” Oh, yes, couldn't find _ the time to think of us. She can dance all night and not begrudge the time, and yet can’t spare a few moments to send home a few lines. _ Mrs. M. Don’t be so oncharitable, but continner to read on. p A. ‘Aunt teok me to a party the other eveniag, and everything I had on was of a bright blue color, A very sweet _ young man remarked to me that I looked like a perfect sim- pleton in blue.” I don’t wonder at it; fine feathers don’t 40 THE DIME DIALOGUES. make fine birds, and the simpleton will crop out, no matter what color or cloth her clothes may be. B. You must have made some mistake. (Looking over her sister's shoulder.) That word is not simpleton, but symphony, which means something full of harmony; so, he meant to compliment her and not deride her. A. That “sweet young man” would have been much nearer the truth if he Had called her a simpleton. Mrs. M. Lreely am surprised to hear you talk so against your sister; it ain’t Christian-like, so now! But, do goon with the letter, or you'll never get through. A. ‘TI don’t let people know my real name, for it is so homely and old-fashioned I am quite ashamed of it. So, I’ve changed my name from Sarah Hannah to Sadie Hermione.” Mrs. M. Now, I’ve allus thought that Sarah Hanner was ~ awful pooty names. Besides, they're in the Scriptur’. B. Maybe she is beginning to think Scripture is getting too homely and old-fashioned; good enough for the country, but not just the thing for the city. But, that is merely my opinion of Sarah’s opinion. Mrs. M. Iam sorry to see you both so severe on your sis- ter. Pray, go on with the letter and Jet us hear the rest. A. ‘‘I think Sadie Hermione is quite too darned stingy — for anything; don’t you? Of course, do. “7 Mrs. M. Are you sure that Sarah Hanner writ that? Don’t seem to me she could almost swear, even into a letter. B, Agnes has blundered again. That word must be ‘‘ dis- tingue.” That's French for elegant. I guess I know as much of French as that. A. I don’t see why she can’t write plainer, so a person can — read it right off at once. 4 B. Perhaps, because it isn’t fashionable to do so. A. ‘Be sure to tell the girls to-eat pie with a fork and not_ with a knife.” Ive generally eaten pie with my mouth; but T shall cat it with my toes in future, for all of her teaching! — But, gets all, except—‘t Your affectionate daughter, ss 8. H. M. Mrs. M. That all? Well, it’s good what there is of it. A. And there’s enough of it, such as itis. But, here’s 4 ‘postscript. ‘‘P.S.—I have got a couple of bears that I dont much care for now, and I will send them home to you.” i Mrs. M. Bears? Massy sakes alive! What on airth are — we going to do with a couple of bears? Does she think we — want to go into the menagery show business? Wherever shall — we put ’em? 4 A. Why, put ’em to death, of course. : B. Don’t get excited, mother. It is only one more mistake — of Agnes’s poor reading, or Sarah Hannah’s queer writing: — SARAH HANNAH. 41 ‘It’s not anything quite so dreadful as bears; it is beaus, though I’ve always seen the word spelled B e-a-u-x. _ A. ‘I am really quite tired of them. One of them isa _ yellowish black—” Mes. M. She can’t mean a nigger, can she? |} #4A. There’s no knowing what she does mean. ‘ And that ‘} will do for Bella. The other, being somewhat green, will be _ betteradapted to Agnes.” ‘Well, if ever! Ill just let the blue impleton know that I can pick out my own beau when I want one. I’m none too green for that/ Does she think we are to ake here cast-off lovers as we take her cast-oif finery? If she does, she’ll find herself mistaker, so far as Z’m concerned. I aie heard such impudence in all my life. (T/rovws letter on | floor.) B. (Taking up letter and continuing the reading:) ‘On Second thoughts I believe it will be better for me to bring the _ beaus with me when I go home, for I shall soon come to make you a short visit. Get the girls to have things looking neat and tidy, inside and outside of the house. Disorder does so Shock my refined senses.” A. ‘‘fHfow we apples do swim!” ‘‘ What a dust we do kick up!” said the fly to the wheel. The toadstool finds fault with the toad. } B. Don't get excited, and don’t lose your temper, for it _ Will not mend matters. A. It makes me mad, mad all through. Don’t we sweep, nd dust, and wash, and scrub, and scour all the time? As She is so used to order where she is, I should think she would be pleased with a little disorder by way of variety. If she oesn’t like the looks of the place, why, she can just stay away. For my part I wish she vould, until she shows a little More sense, and [ don’t care who knows it! B. (Looking off.) Well, don’t say any more at present, for here’s a lady coming down the road to this house. I declare t is Sarah Hannah herself, but I don’t see any one with er. A, I guess she left our beaux at the depot, in charge of the Dageage-master. Mrs. M. Mychild coming home tosee me! I can scarcely Id in for joy! A. Wonder if ma would be as tickled to see ws if we were 0 come home. B. She never has the chance; for, you know, we never go ny where, Mrs. M. hurries to door and there meets SRAM HANNAH. _ The mother endeavors to embrace her daughter, but SARAH repulses Ler.) S. d. Yes, yes, that'll do! Of course I know you're glad THE DIME DIALOGUES. to see me; but, don’t show such an exuberance of feeling, a I’ve not been used to it, recently. Mrs. M. And don’t you feel glad to s2e your mother once ] more? Is it out of fashion to have affection for one’s own flesh and blood? : 8. H. Ofcourse, I think as much of you asI ever did ‘what a ridiculous idea to suppose I didn’t; bat, 1t’s out of fashion to show any emotion, quite out of form. It is esfhetic | to let things take their course, and not to permit anything to_ agitate you. Keep your feelings under perfect restraint; and no matter in what position you may find yourself, be calm, just as though such matters were an every-day occurrence Pleased to see you, girls; hope you are well. A. Isuppose if you were to sit down on ared hot stove. you would show no emotion, just as though sittting down on — red-hot stoves was an every-day occurrence. Do esthetics go as far as that? 8. H. It wouldn’t be esthetic to sit down on one. Mrs. M.- And you haven’t once said ycu were glad to ge home. I suppose you have been living on such high feed everything here will taste kind cf common; but, I can get you up a first-class dish of pork and onions. 8. H. Don’t trouble yourself! Such things would im pregnate the hemisphere with unpleasant odors, and would have a depressing effect upon me, my delicate nerves are $0 sensitive. I expect to miss many of the city’s pleasures while Lam here, but I cannot remain long, for Aunt Minnie will be so lonesome. Shethinks so much of me, and depends so much on my taste and judgment; and on my counsel and advice also. I suppose it almost breaks her heart to have me away from her for even a few days. Mrs. M. Well, I’m glad she thinks such a pile on ye and I hope you are a-doin’ all you can to show yourself grate-_ ful. . 4 5S. H. Yes, I think my society fully compensates Aun Minnie for any expense I may be to her. She says I am qui an acquisition to her card parties. : B. Wave you learned to play cards, among your other cilY accomplishments? : 8 Yes, indeed! I fairly revel in card-playing. Tiki eucher the best. ; : Mrs. M. Likea cur the best! Dodogs play keerds? Now. who ever did tell the beat of that? 8. H. Eucher is the name of a game at cards. ; Mrs. M. I’mkind of sorry you play keerds; Lallus though it was wicked, f - §. H. But it is very fashionable! Mrs. M. Oh! if it is fashionable, I suppose it's all right, SARAH HANNAH. 43 A. But, I say, how about those cast-off feHows you spoke _ of in your letter? 8. H. Ido not grasp the significance of your remar. A. You may try to marry Bella to a nigger; but you'll never catch me wedding a green dude. S. H. I cannot comprehend what you are talking about. A. Why, about the beaux you were going to give to Bella and me. S. H. Why, you stupid little goose. I meant bows to Wear on your neck. ; A. Well, then, why couldn’t you spell the word right? | B-e-a-u-s don’t spell those kind of bows! Zhat word is spelled d-o-w-s. I haven’t been brought up in-city ways, but I can spell simple words better than that. 7 S. H. Quite a mistake; yet nothing to make a fuss over, _asIcansee. There are more serious things to be attended to than spelling. There, I have just remembered that aunt gave | me a letter to read just as she put me on the cars, and I had } forgotten to peruse it. As it may be something of conse- quence, I hope you will excuse my perusing it. (G@lances over the letter hastily, and then sinks into a chair, screaming.) 7 Mrs. M. Massy sakes me! What ever 7s the matter? Have 7} you got the highstrikes? Any bad news into that letter? Run and get the camfire bottle, girls. _ §. H. No need of that. I’m only mad/ Oh the ingrati- tude of that aunt of mine; and after all I have done for her, too! _ A. Don’t get excited. It isn’t esthetic to show any emotion whatever. B. Will you not tell us what the trouble is, Sarah Hannah? 8. H. Read that letter and judge for yourself. It would Make a marble statue thrill with indignation. _ B. (Takes up the letter and veads aloud.) ‘‘ Niece Sadie: I will now write what I could not bring myself to say. When you arrive at home you need not return here again. I will end ycur things after you. I confess I have been woefully disappointed in you. I have striven to be a goed fricnd to You, and to advance you in society, but the thanks you give ‘Me for the same is to speak against me to others, and magnify ‘My little foibles and short-comings to my friends. Your Temarks have come back to me from those you spoke them to.” A. Is this the way Aunt Minnie breaks her heart for the ack of your est/etic society? : _ B. Don't talk so, Agnes. It is not right to make one’s Wounds more severe by picking at them. (Continues reading.) “Tf either of your sisters would like to try the experiment of living w‘th me, and will prove more grateful than you have Hone, I will see what I can do for her.” 44 THE DIME DIALOGUES. A. Well, I’m sure J don’t want to go. I don’t think I should shine very brightly in city society. I confess I did envy Sarah Hannah’s good-fortune; but, I’ve got over that now. Mother’s house and mother’s love have been good enough for me; and so they always shall be as long as I may have them. B> AndIfearI should be too independent to suit our 2 aunt. idon’t know but I’d be willing to work for her in some capacity. Aunt might find me to be more useful than ornamental. Mrs. M. Well, now, Sarah Hanner, don’t you fret. You ly you can stop home again, and be just what you used to e, S. H. No, mother, darling, not as I used to be. I see, now, how hard you and sisters have worked for me, and how I have idled and dawdled, and been no help atall. I have never been really happy in the city, there has been so much sham and duplicity, backbiting and telling tales and scandal-talking in the society that I have been thrown in; and I did not think I was going so very far. wrong in following — F the example set before me. I believe I shall find more rea love, and more true affection in the home nest, if I can be one of the tamily, and work with that family; so, tell me what to do, and set me to doing it. Mrs. M. And won’t it be awful hard for you to give up being a lady? j B.. Fine clothes do not always make the lady. One can be ~ a lady though she is dressed in the cheapest of calico. Bella is right there. I have seen too many imitation Jadies—too many shams and shoddieg and parvenues, and now lam going to try to be a true woman, who is always a lady. A. I did feel cross to you once, because I thought you — acted silly; but now that you talk sense, and are going to act sensibly, I feel just as though I could hug and kiss you; and I would do so if it was not in bad form to suow any emotion. — 8.H. We will forget the form and go through with the — ceremony. (Hmbraces and kisses her mother and _ sisters.) Maybe, Aunt Minnie’s revroof and decision have been the best things that could have occurred. They have made me turn — over the new leaf and begin a better, truer life. j Mrs. M. ‘Live and learn.” But now, let’s go into the kitchen, where ’tis more cozy and homelike. I snum I’m powerful glad you’ve come back to be one of the family. OrHERs. ‘So say we, al! of us.” A. Including the unesthetic ‘ snum,” (Zzeunt.) THE COWBOY COUSIN. THE COWBOY COUSIN; OR, DONT JUDGE BY A HAT. /haracters :—BEN MARKHAM, @ young man from the West ; Mrs. Morrison, his wunt, a fashionable woman ; CLARIBEL, her daughter ; JENNIE, Mr. Morwison's niece; Mr. Ricu- ARD MoRRISON. Scene I.—A sitting-room. Mrs. Morrison, seated, reading or engaged in fancy-work, JENNIE, dusting the furniture. Mrs. M. I wish you’d hurry up and get through with that dusting, Jennie. It seems to me as though you always take an hour to do what you ought to do in half the time. I have a great deal I wish you to do this morning. My nephew, who I’ve never seen, telegraphed to Mr. Morrison that he would be here to-morrow, and | want you to get the east room ready for him. And then, I want you to make cake and _ dessert for to-morrow, as the cook is too busy, and — Jennte. (Laughing) Well, I should think that was quite _ enough for one morning. How much do you think one pair _ of hands can accomphish, my dear aunt? Why don’t you _ have Claribel do something? Mrs. M. (Haughtily.) 1 am not talking about Claribel; I am talking to you. If you think that your uncle and I can _ afford to support you for nothin7, you are much mistaken. - You know that your uncle’s business is not as good as it _ was, and when I consented to receive you, as a member cf our _ family, it was with the express understanding that you should _ take the place of any extra help we might have to have, so _ that we should not be undez any additional expense, and now you talk about Claribel! Really, Jennie, 1 think you are very ungrateful. é _ J. You know i do not mean to be ungrateful. I am very ‘grateful to my uncle for all that he does for me, and he teld mne the other day that I was a comfort, not a burden, to him. If I thought [ was a burden, or that 1 could help my uncle by going away, I should go at once. I did not know my uncle _ Was in business difficulties, _. Mrs. M. He’s not exactly in difficulties, but his business Is not doing as well as it was, and he told me the other day hat I must cut down expenses. I don’t see what we can do, ‘Unless Claribel makes a good marriage. I hope this nephew of mine isa nice fellow. His father, my brother, went West long ago, just after he was married, and I have not heard from 46 THE DIME DIALOGUES. him in years. People in the West grow rich so rapidly, per- haps he’s got a fortune by this time. It may be that this son of his will take a fancy to his cousin Claribel, and who knows what might come of it? He'll be here to-morrow, and I want everything nice. J. I must go along, if I expect to get through this morn- ing. (Zixit.) (Enter CLARIBEL.) Mrs, M. That girl grows more independent every day. I don’t see what I’m to do with her. C. It's all papa’s fault—he spoils her. Mrs. M I know it, and, as long as he does so, I can’t hope to keep her in her place. C. Only yesterday I asked papa for some money to buy a new dress and he said that I had six new dresses to Jennie’s one. The idea of comparing me to a poor dependent! Mrs. M. It’s too bad, and you ought to have your new dress, too, for your cousin, Ben Markham, is coming to-mor- row, and I want you to look your nicest. C. Is he worth anything, mamma? Mrs. M. I don’t know anything about him, Claribel. I have never seen him, nor have I heard from his father, my. brother, in years. All I know is that Mr. Morrison had a dispatch yesterday, saying that the young man would be with us to-morrow. I hope for your sake that he is well off. C. Why for my sake? What have I to do with this Western cousin? Mrs. M. Because hell probably take a fancy to you, and it might be a good thing for you to marry him. C. And go West to live? : Mrs. M. If he’s rich, he probably won't care where he — lives, and you can make him doas you please. I tell you, my — dear, that your father’is not as well off as he was, and it behooves you to make a good marriage just as soon as you ~ can. C. Well, I'll see what I can do; but. perhaps, he won’t be ~ our style at all, mamma. You know these Western people — are queer, sometimes, even if they are rich—outlandish in dress and talk and manners. Mrs. M. Oh, well! If he has plenty of money, you can — affurd to overlook any little oddities or defects in education — and refinement. : C. Yes, good money excuses bad manners nowadays. (Curtain.) THE COWBOY COUSIN. 47 | Scene I].—Same room as before. Mrs. Morrison and CLart- _ BEL seated. Door opens and servant announces Mr. MArx- HAM, who enters, dressed in true cowboy fashion. Ladies exchange glances of horror. _ Mrs. M. (Rising and shaking hands.) And is this really my brother’s son? How do you do, Benjamin? _ Ben. I’m first-rate, and real pleased to make your ac- 4} quaintance. } 4 Mrs. M. Let me introduce you to your Cousin Clari- Ebel. 3EN. Howdy, Cousin Claribel? C. (Without rising.) I am very well, thank you, Mr. } Markham. __ Ben. Now, don’t Mister Markham me—I ain't used to it. I don’t know who you mean when you tuck the handle onto -MIy name. Outin the narts where 1 come from, folks mostly Call me Bully Ben—that’'s the name I go by there. | C. (Haughtily.) Youd hardly expect a young lady to address you in that style. _. Ben. Well, I ain’t much used to young ladies, and that’s a DoTI understand that you are from Colorado, Yes, ma’am_ there’s where I mostly hang out. C. (Aside to her mother) Really, 1 cant stand this. His language is dreadful. Mrs. M. (Zo Cuarrpeu.) Wail a little, and I’ll soon find Out what he’s like. (Zo Bun.) Ihave not heard from your dear father in many years. J amalmost afraid to ask if he be ‘Still living. Ben, Father died two years ago, and mo-her shortly after. he could not survive the shock. Mrs. M. (Putting her handkerchief to her eyes.) Poor Ben! little thought | should never see him again. You don’t 1e- mble him in the least. | Ben. Folks do say I favor my mother’s side of the family. ‘Sather often spoke of you, and said he wanted to see you. if could have spared the rocks, he would have come Hast ain. Mrs. M. Spared the rocks? Bren. Yes, had the ducats, you know. Mrs. M. Was he then so very poor? Ben. He certainly was down on his luck. Mrs. M. He never was very lucky, poor fellow. Then he ft you nothing? What are you doing for a living? _ Ben. Oh, alittle of everything that comes handy. Me ind niy pard work on aranch most of the time when Im a- orking at anything. SEs 48 THE DIME DIALOGUES. C. (Aside.) Just what I expected! He's nothing but a common cowboy. Bren. What did you say, cousin? C. (Shortly.) Nothing. Ben. (Going over and: sitting down beside her.) Vd like to 1 get bettar acquainted with my charming cousin. Ive taken quite a shine to you already. | C. Sir! You are too presumptuous! (Rises and leaves the room.) ; Ben. Whew! Say, aunt, did I make her mad? I didn't,]. mean to. 4 Mrs. M. Claribel has never been used to such ways. She | has always been accustomed to the most refined society, and | you were a little—well—a little abrupt, to say the least. You must excuse her. Your dress is rather odd, also, and she don’t know what to make of you. j Ben. Why, I thought I was pretty well rigged out in these store duds. Mrs. M. Doubtless you are, for your section of the coun- try. It is hardly what we w ould éall a gentleman’s dress, however. | Bey. I hope that I am at least a gentleman, aunt, no mat- F ter what clothes I may wear. . Mzs. M. Oh, dear, yes! J didn’t intend to imply that you were not, q (Enter JENNIE.) J. Luncheon is ready, aunt. Ben. _Is this another cousin? 4 Mrs. M: No, this is a niece of my husband, who makes : her home with us. Jennie, this is Mr. Markham, whom we 7 were expecting. J. (Going up to him and eatending her hand.) How do ye do, Mr. Markham? I am very glad to meet you. Ben. Thanks; the same to you, miss. Mrs. M. Let us go to lunch. (She and BEN go out togethag ; JENNIE remains and CLARIBEL 7¢-enters.) J. Lunch is ready, Claribel. C. I don’t care if it is; I am not going out to lunch. J. What's the matter now? C. Tm not going to sit at the table with a horrid, comme cowboy, if he is my cousin, I’m too disappointed for anything: a I think it is dreadful, having such a coarse creature come] sea on us, this way. I sha’n’t speak to him again if 1 ca] elp it. : J. Why, Claribel! I didn’t see anything coarse or comme! about him. He certainly is not an exquisite, but I thought ¥®® had a nice, honest face. C. Oh, of course you'd think so! I dare say he’s just THE COWBOY COUSIN. 49 | style! You'd better set your cap for him, you admire him so much. You might marry him, you know, and go live in his Jog cabin or dug-out, if you think he’s so charming. : J. Claribel! CG. You needn’t Claribel me! I hate the very thought of him. He’s pooras poverty anyhow, and is nothing but some- body else’s hired man. (Flounces out of the room.) J. So, that’s the trouble, is it? He's poor. Otherwise he would be very attractive! If he were a rich ranch-owner, or a cattle-king, his dress and manners would be considered quaint and charming! Now they are called coarse and com- mon. Poor feilow; I’m sorry for him, and shall try to be as pleasant as I can. I must be going in to lunch, for aunt will’ wonder where lam, . (Heit.) (Curtain falls.) Scene III.—Same as before. Ben and JENNIE, standing by a table ' Bren. Jennie, dear, since you have made me happy by promising to be my wife, I have a confession to make. ; J. A confession? . B. Yes; I have only been playing a part since my arrival ere. . J. What do you mean, Ben? Bren. That I am no more a cowboy than you are! J. Ben! You had no right to deceive us sv. Ben. Perhaps not, but my deception has served my pur. | pose well. Ihave found out that had I come to this house rich, I should have b2en welcomed by my aunt and cousin with open arms, no matter how seemingly uncouth or unfash- -ionable my appearance. As it was, they thought me poor, so gave contempt instead of courteous treatment. You were the only one in the house, dear Jennie, who liked me for myself alone, and who dared to show that liking in the face of my supposed poverty and friendlessness. J. Yes, but if you are no¢ what I thought you were, per- haps I sha’n't like you so well? Didn’t yousay you were em- ployed on a ranch? Ben. I said I had spent most of my time there, and so I have, but it was on my own ranch. This ranch is but a part of my possessions, and I have spent considerable time there, because I like it. We shall not live there, however, but wherever you like. Ihave money enough for us to do as we please and to live where we will. J. What will our aunt say, 1 wonder? Sordid woman that she is, she will be terribly disappointed. ; THE DIME DIALOGUES. (Enter Mrs, M. and CuARtBEL.) Mrs. M. Indeed? What will I be disappointed about, you pert ingrate? Bren. That Jennie has promised to marry me. 3 Mrs. M. Marry you? Hat! ha! Birds of a feather! -C. (Sneering.) A very suitable match, I should say. A cowboy and a penniless dependent! Pray, don’t interfere with their arrangements, mamma. It would be a pity to spoil love in a log hut on a cattie-ranch at ten dollars 4 month. Oh, this 7s romantic! . Bey. Stop, Claribel! You have gone quite too far with your insolence and contemptible snobbery. You have in- sulted me ever since I have been a guest under your excellent father’s roof, but E will not brook insult to my chosen wife. Out West, such ill-breeding as you have betrayed, would entitle you to the contempt of every respectable persopr, C. How dare you, sir, say this to me in our own house?— you, a Kansas cowboy. Pah! Bren. How do you know that I am a cowboy, or what my position is? Poor, silly creature! 1 simply played the part of a cowboy, as you seemed determined to ccnsider me, to see whether my father's sister and her daughter would welcome me for my own and my deau father’s sake, as for the sake of the great wealth which I have been fortunate enough to acquire. Mrs. M. For mercy’s sake, Ben, what do you mean? Ben. Mean? Why, that in Colorado 1 am known as Ben Markham, the Young Ranch King and Mine Owner— that your cowboy is worth enough to buy out this whole town! Mrs. M. Surely, vou jest! Bun. [never was more in earnest. Mrs. M. Oh, this is a terrible mistake we have made! Ben. A mistake on your part, certainly—having been out- rageousiy blind to all personal merit—all worth of character. C. 1 believe Jennie knew it all along, the artful piece! J; Claribel, how can you? Ben. At least do your cousin no further injustice, Clari- - bel. She already has had too much of that from you. Jennie, we will withdraw. Evidently your cousin is incapable of distinguishing between high-mindedness and meanness. Mrs. M. Surely, you will not leave in anger, Ben? BEN. For Jennie’s sake, as well as for uncle’s feelings, I will overlook your incivility and ingratitude, but you could hardly imagine that your further companionship would ever be very pleasant for either of us. I will see you later, after ou have learaed what I have done for your husband. Come, ennie! : ; (Hreunt.) Mrs. M. Now, Claribel, you see what you’ve done. ‘ THE COWBOY COUSIN. 61 C. What I’ve done? I should say what you've done} Lost me one of the best chances of the season! Think 6f his _ unlimited wealth, and how I could have cut a dash with it! He was goou looking, too, in spite of his outer dress, It makes me furious to think of it. Mrs. M. And to think of that artful Jennie’s carrying off _ the prize! I alwas knew we’d have trouble with her in the _ house. » C. It’s all your fault. Mrs. M. lt isn't! C. Itis! 4 Mrs: M. Well, what shall we do? When your father } learns al— 3 (Enter Mr. Morrison.) Mr. M. He has Jearned enough to make him almost _ despise his wife and daughter. y Mrs. M. Oh, this is the cruelest blow of all! Do—do for- - give me, Richard! ._(dmpleringly.) Mr. M. (7o Crarren.) And what have you to say! 3 C. Why, that Jennie is a wiser, and better, and more de- _ serving girl than 1; and now that I have been made to see _ myself just as 1 am, I shall consider the lesson well taught if, like her, I can win respect and love by my merit alone. Mr. M. Well spoken! and there will be 1.eed of your best endeavor. Only by Ben’s aid have I been spared the pain and humiliation of failure in my business and the loss of this house. Now, we must bend all our energies to repay that Obligation, although the generous felluw has actually given me the ten thousand dollars | needed, saying it was Jennie’s gift in consideration of the love’I had always shown her. _- Mrs. M. Noble fellow! C. Noble Jennie! Mr. M. (Zaking hands of Mrs. M. and CuartrBen and fucing audience.) And the noble lesson exemplified that merit 1s not made by assumption, nor worth to be measured by the Clothes we wear. (Curtain.) THE DIME DIALOGUES, THE PROVERB CHILDREN. FOR SIX LITTLE GIRLS. Firsr Gren, We are six little Proverb girls, as through life we go, Learning something every day, so we much more may know. » If to parties we are invited, and it looks like rain, Well, we hope it will be brighter, so we don’t complain. Where’s the use of worrying? Thinking troubles o’er? We know the sun will shine again, as it has shone before. We look upon the cheerful side, and know this maxim true: “ Never trouble trouble, till trouble troubles you.” 3 SEconD GIRL. J Some girls think their lessons hard, and never can be learned; But those who try to do their best, many victories have earned, A big mountain to climb may become but an easy hill; And the torrent. we ve to cross, tut a pond when it is still. ee, the fierce beast locking wild, causing us a dreadful right, Is the shadow of a rotten tree in the misty light. And our grandmas often said, words that seemed most fit, ‘* You should never cross a bridge, until ycu come to it.” THIRD GIRL, Sometimes, mother’s head may ache; arms get tired out, We could make the pain the less, if we softly stirred abcut. Helping with our willing hearts, and each with ready — hands, ‘ Knowing little seeds of kindness bring a harvest grand. Here and there a little deed, done in kindly thought, Equals many greater acts by greater persons wrought. And our grandmas often say, when we no duties shirk, - Many little busy hands, make very light of work.” Fourts Girt. Sometimes, letters all get mixed; States will never bound, And the figures in our sums, often get turned quite around. | While the more and more we look, the worse they seem to | be; — How we're ever going to right them, we can never see. ; Then we think how spiders work, when their lovely web’s — undone, 3 Never resting till they finish what they have begun. Teaching lessons, if well learned, never taught in vain— “Tf, at first, you don’t succeed, try and try again.” / THE PROVERB CHILDREN. 53 Firra GIR. We’re content with what we have, never pine for pelf or wealth — . Think we have a treasure rare, if we have good health. Never sigh for gayer clotbes—useless things want not— There are people poorer off; harder is the7r lot. Happier we make our lives, doing for the best Aiding others in the strife, working with a zest. Satisfied with all we have, though it be the least, « A contented mind,” you'll find ‘‘a continual feast.” SrxtH GIRu. Let the words we speak be kind, nor Jet our passions rise, For the harsh voice raised in anger shows a feeling most un- wise, And the hurt is felt most keenly, turns our good friends into foes ;— If we’re thinking before speaking, we shall guard against such woes. It is sweeter in the sunshine when the sky is blue and clear, Let us cast a little sunshine in the paths of those most dear. It is calmer on the river than where angry ocean flows, “ Words,” though seemingly quite harmless, often ‘*‘ Hurt far more than blows.” First Giri. Many proverbs, that we know, full of wisdom are, ‘< Go without than run in debt,” it is better far. Srconp Grr. ‘« Willful waste makes woeful want; ‘‘ Look before you leap,’’ §* Make hay while the sun doth shine; ‘‘Plow while slug- gards sleep.” Turrp Grr, “ Kitchen fires are not fed with the satins fine,” FourrH Grr. “‘Mend your manners and your clothes;” ‘Stitch in time saves nine.” Firte Gru. ‘* Wishes never filled a sack;” ‘‘ Tall oaks from acorns grew.” SrxtH Gran. “Time and tide for no one wait;” ‘‘Stop when you get through.” (All courtesy and exit.) 54 THE DIME DIALOGUES. THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY; e OR, THE MUTUAL FRIEND'S STRATEGY. Characters : —Sotomon Scooper, an old bachelor; Jiu ScoopeR, Ais nephew ; ARABELLA SPECKLECHEEKS, a7 old maids BripeEt McFLICKERTY, a widow, Scene I.—A room poorly furnished. Table without cloth spread. with dishes, SoLoMon and Jim seated at each end of the table, eating. Jim. Uncle Solomon, you had ought to live better’n you do. This is mighty slim-eatin’. Sou. (Curtly.) It’s good enough. What more do you want? Jim. Oh, Z can get along on this, but I think you ought to lave somethin’ better. You’re gittin’ old, now, and you ought to have better victuals than the;e. Sou. Shut up, Jim! I ain’t getiin’ old. The victuals are good enough. You're always-growlin’ about somethin’. Jim. Oh, no, Uncle Solomon; I ain’t no growler. But I do think you ought to live better. When a man begins to get» up in years, he ought to live better. If he has good victuals, he'll live longer. Sonu. Oh, that’s bosh! I s’pose you’re wantin’ pie or doughnuts, or somethin fine. I never had a very good opin- ion of them people who are allers thinkin’ about somethin’ good to eat. It shows that they have a very grovelin’ dis- position. Jim. Uncle Solorron, you are a very wealthy man; I s'pose you're worth a hundred thousand. . Sor. Shut up, Jim. What’s the use of talkin’ about sich things as that? : Jim. Uncle Solomon, I want to keep the fact before you that you are a wealthy man, and being a wealthy man, your diet should be richer than it is. Just look at this table and ask yourself if there is anything on it fit for a wealthy man to eat. 1 will place the matter before you with more vividness. Take a look at this table and ask yourself if there is anything on it fit for a hog to eat! : Sou. Jim, you're gettin’ on aleetle too far. The break- fast is good enough for any young upstart, such as you are. Jm. It is not on my own account that 1 am so patheticaliy layin’ the matter before you. No, Uncle Solomon, it is on our own account. You are growing old, and you have at east one hundred thousand dollars. Such being the case, do THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY. 65 _ you think it is right for you to sit down at a table, spread as this one is spread, and with nothing on it fit for a pig to eat? Sot. Oh, it’s good enough for anybody. You allers were -awhiner. I s’pose you want pie and doughnuts, and oysters and roast turkey and fried chicken, but 1 tell you, my boy, you won’t get it while you stay with me / Jum. Uncle Solomon, it grieves me sorely to be blamed when I speak only for your own good, and with no selfish _ motive whatever. Uncle Solomon, you have money, but you hesitate to spend it—you hesitate to live comfortably. Uncle Solomon, it grieves me to say it. but I have thought the mat- | ter over, and looked at it in every conceivable light, and I Be os say that I am firmly of the opinion that you are an old - fool. Sout. Jim, bea little keerful. I a’most allers let you talk as much as you want to, but it seems to me you're gettin’ on a | little too far. _ Jim. Uncle Solomon, I would shrink from talkin’ this } way, but I know I am talkin’ for your good. Your days’ "are passin’ swiftly by, and soon you will be an old man. _ Sox. Jim, thatisn’tso, Lain’t old. Feel jest as young as _ Lever did. _ Jim. Perhaps you do, but in spite of that, the frosts of age _ are gathering on your locks, and. ere many years have passed ' away, you will totter down to the grave. E Jim, you’re a liar, Better.shut up and eat your breakfast. dim. Eat my breakfast! Humph! There’s nothin’ here _ to eat, so I may as well talk. Yes, Uncle Solomon, as J said before, you are growing old, and soon you'll be lyin’ out there ' in the graveyard in a neglected grave. Sox. Jim, if you don’t shut up, PI get up and leave the {| table. ; Jum. Might as well. There’s nothin’ here to eat. But, before I close, Uncle Sclomon, I want to draw the conclusion and poirt the moral. You are worth a hundred thousand _ dellars, yet you live more likea pig thanaman. You are worth a hundred thousand dclars, and what are you goin’ to do with all that money? Sou. Well, I kalkilate I'll not give mere’n half a dollar of it to you! -Jim. That’s so, Uncle Solomon; you won't give it to me— you won’t give it to anybody. No, you'll take it with you when you go down to the darkness and silence of the tomb. Son. (Springing up.) Jim, you're a fool. I won't eat any ‘more. You've made meangry. Ill go out_of the honse.. (EZvit Solomon.) Jim. (ZLaughs.) Ue, he! He thinks he wont eat any ' 56 THE DIME DIALOGUES. 2. more. I think I won’t, either. Good reason—nothin’ to eat. Oh, how hungry lam. Well, if Uncle Solomon doesn’t pro- vide a little better, I think I’ll have to hunt another boarding- place. Uncle Solomon is a good man, but he’s mean—he’s | close. If he had a good wife, I believe he would do better. She would probably have an influence over him for good, and she might induce him to live as he oughter. But, Uncle Solomon would never a:k anybody to marry him; it would |. frighten him out of his wits. Now, if I could only induce somebody to propose to him, it might come out all right. I have it! J’ll write to the old maid, Arabella Specklecheeks, and tell her to propose to him. Ii write as though I was a mutual friend, and lam; and I'll say that Solomon Sccoper is a kind-hearted man, that he needs a wife, but that he is too bashful to propose, and I’ll say that he would go on to the end of his days without a wife if somebody didn’t propose to him. Vl tell her that Solomon entertains a high regard for her, but | he would remain silent forever rather than speak, and that if | _ she will but ask him, he will no doubt accept. I'll sign the | letter ‘‘ A Mutual Friend.” And then, to have some fun, Vl | send another note of the same kind to Bridget McFlickerty, | the widow. But, I’ll have Miss Specklecheeks call first. She must come at ten o’clock, and Bridget McFlickerty at half- | _ past ten. (Rises.) It’s lucky I thought of it. Dll have some | _ fun, Uncle Solomon will get a wife, and I'll have better grub; | so now for the letters! (Exit J™.) (Curtain.) {Scene II.—A room, scantily furnished. SoLomon seated. Sou. That boy Jim, speaks his mind purty freely, it seems to me. He says I’m gettin’ old. The young rascal! I feel like thrashin’ him when he gets to talkin’ about the infirmities of age creepin’ upon me, and the frosts of age gatherin’on my locks. Is’pose 1 am gettin’ older—everybody gets that way; still Jim hadn't ought to be everlastin’ly talkin’ about it. Then he keeps talkin’ about my money, and says I ought to make a better use of it, and live comfortably. Well, p’rhaps I ought to take a better livin’, and it’s true that I can’t take my money with me when I go down to the grave. (Knock at . door, SoLoMoN springs up.) Jehosophat! Who's tbat, I wonder? I reckon I'd better investigate. (Opens door.) : ARABELLA. (Outside.) Good-mornin’, Mr. Scooper. Sot. Good-mornin’, good mornin’! Anything wrong? ArA. No, but I jest thought I’d run over. 4 _$or. Oh, then, I reckon you'd better come in. Yes, come— in. I a’most forgot to ax you, but the women folks don’t O eat. | pro- ding- —he’s | etter. , and Jnele ould duce -eks, asa oper too end im, but tit the | Pil ty, She alf- me 10; ns el | es # THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY. 57 often come to see me, and I don’t jest exactly know how to act. Yes, come right in. (Hiuter ARABELLA.) Ara. Yes, I’ll do so and I’m obleeged to you. Sot. Now, take a chair and sit down onto it. (Places chair.) I’m a good deal flustrated, you know. (ARABELLA seats herself.) Mebbe you’d take off your bunnit, or mebbe you wouldn’t. I s’pose I ought to ax you, anyhow. Ara. I’m obleeged to you, but I believe I'll not take mv bunnit eff. No, Pl keep it on. Sox. Well, it’s all right, but I ought to ax you, anyhow. Ara. Yes, it’s all right, and I’m obleeged to you. Son. (Aside.) I don’t know what I ought to do next. Mebbe I ought to sit down (Seats himself.) Ara, I don’t know as I ought to have come over here. Sou. (Fidgeting) Well, I don't know, either. Mebbe if you think it wasnt right, you’d better run home, Ana. Mr. Scooper, I'll proceed to divulge myself to you. Sot. (Looking aghast.) No! You won't do that, will you? (Rises.) Well, I guess I'd better be a-g9in’. Ara. Be seated, Mr. Scooper. You probably don’t under- stand me. _ I received a letter yesterday. Son. (Svating himself.) You did? Well, I didn’t send it. Ara. No, it came from a mutual friend. Sox. What kind of a things that?’ ArRA. It’s a friend of yours and a friend of mine. TI don’t know who it is, but this friend said that you werea good man, and you ought to have a good wife. Son. Yes, they say a good wife will make her own livin’. Ara. Mr. Scooper, L have some hesitation about pro- ceedia’. Sou. Oh, go ahead, Miss Specklecheeks! If you’ve got anything to say, squawk it right out. Ara. I feel that I have placed myself in a rather embar- rassing position. Sou. How’d you happen to do tat? ArA. By coming over here, Mr. Scooper. ae Well, I don’t see anything very embarrassin’ about that ! Ara. I think I should proceed, and yet I shudder and turn ale. x Sox. Yes, you do look kind of pale By Jehosophat! T don’! kno-v what I’d do if youd get sick here. P'rhaps you'd better run home afore you get any worse. Ara. ’Tis past. I will endeavor to proceed. Son. Well, go ahead: There must be somethin’ purty bad on hands, for you seem kind of scared. Ara. Yes, my heart palpitates and flutters. If you would 58 THE DIME DIALOGUES. sit ae me and let me lean against you, perhaps I might pro- ceed. Sox. Lean ag’in’me/ You don’t mean it, I kalkilate it wouldn’t be just right. I never had a woman to lean ag’in’ me but once, and that time I got upsot. ARA. It’s all right; I will proceed—I—or—er— Mr. Scooper, do you think it would be right for a woman to pro- pose—that is, do yon think it would be right for a woman to ask a man to marry her? Son. Well, yes; I think it would be all right. Hokey! I wish somebody would ask me! ArA. Do you really? -ThenI will ask you, Mr. Scooper. (Sie rises and comes toward Souomon; he rises and retreats.) Sout. I—I—what are you goin’ to-do? ‘ARA. I was going to ask you to be my husband. Sou. Railly, now, was you? I was afeard you was goin’ to fall ag’in’ me and IJ don’t think as how that would be alto- gether accordin’ to Scripter. Ara. Why, you know, Mr. Scooper, the Scriptures say that seven women shall take hold of one man. Son. You don’t say! Well, that’s more’n I’d want to take hold of me. I should think one would be enough for any man, Ara. I think so too. On that subject, Mr. Scooper, you and I agree, Son. Didn’t you say you had come over to ask me to marry ou? - ARA. I will be candid, Mr. Scooper. I did come for that purpose, but now that I am here, I shrink from it. : Son, Oh, you needn’t shrink nothin’ about it; go ahead! Ara. But if you should refuse, how intensely 1 should fcel it. : Sout. Oh, I'll not refuse;—go ahead. I’ve been wantin’ to get married for some time, and l’ve been thinkin’, too, that you would make me a gooa wife. Ara. I thank you, Mr. Seooper, for your kind opinion. But now that we understand each other so well, wouldn’t it be better for you to ask me ? Sot. Oh, by hokey, no/ I couldn’t do that/ It would “scare me most terrifically. I never asked a gal yet, and lm purty sure I never will. ArRA. Then I will proceed. Son, Yes, go ahead. ARA. Mr. Scooper, although I have your assurance that you will accept, yet 1 approach the point with trembling and hesitation. Son. Oh, you needn’t tremble and trepidate nothin’ about it. Go right ahead, and let us have it over. Ara. Then, Mr. Scooper, will you be my husband? THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE COUNTY. 59 Sou. Yes, by the jumpin’ Jehosophat, I will! Yes, Miss Specklecheeks, I’m perfectly willin’ and glad to boot. Now, O- _ Is’pose when that question’s settled we might have a buss, a; ArRA. Oh, Solomon, spare my blushes! it ; Sou. (Wiping his mouth on his cout-sleeve.) No, I won't spare nothin’. (Anock at door.) Thunder! What's up now ? People will jest come when they oughtn’t to. Arabella, jest . go into the other room, until I see who’s at the door. (Opens - | door at back and ARABELLA goesin.) It’sa mighty queer thing } that people must jest rush into places where they arent wanted! (Opens door.) Bripeet. (Outside.) Good-marnin’ to yez! Sot. Mornin’, mum! Brip. Shure now, an’ Oi s’pose ye’re s'prised to see me? Sou. Yes, kinder. Come into the house. b (Enter BRIDGET.) Bri. Oi won’t.be afther stayin’ wid yez very long Sout. Anything wrong? You seem kind of flusvered. Brrip. Faith an’ Oi’m on a quare kind av an arraat. ee Well, take a cnair and sit down fora spell. (Places chair.) Briw._ Yis, Oi’ll jist do that same. (Seats herself.) Now, _ thin, Oi’ll go on wid me sthory. I got a letthi r yisterday, an’ it said as how ye were a gintleman. (Unties her bonnet- strings.) . a Sou. If you'll give me your bunnit, I’ll set it away for 2 ou. ; E a Brip. (Giving him the bonnet.) Shure now, an’ Oi'll be obleeged to yeif ye wull. (He tukes her bonnet and puts it on the table.) Now, Oill go on wid me sthory. Sot. Yes, you may go ahead; I’m ready-to listen, Brip. Sit down, rhisther! Shure, now, an’.Oi can talk to yez betther if ye sit down. Sou. (Seating himself.) Well, I’m down now. Brip. Thin, as Oi was sayin’, Oi got a bit av a letther. Sox. But the letter wasn't from me, was it? Brip. Whist, now! Be aisy an’ Oi'll tell yez all about it. The letther said ye was a bashful mon, an’ that yez could niver ax a woman to marry yez at all, at all; an’ the letther advised me fur till come over an’ ax ye, fur ye naded a wife, an’ ye’d niver git one at all, at all, if somebody didn’t ax ye. So Oi’ve come over fur that purpose to-day, Sou. (Rising.) Well, I'll have to go out and look arter the cows. Brip. Now, jist kape yer seat ontil we git the matther fixed up. Oi'm comin’ right to the point. Sou. (Svating hinself.) Oh, Mrs. McFlickerty, don’t come 69 THE DIME DIALOGUES. « to the pot! I’d a heap ruther you wouldn't come to th: — oint. c Brip. Whist, now! Oi know ye’r’ a bashful mon, an’ it kind av frightens ye fur me to be talkin’ about marryin’, but Oi know yez ought to have a wife, an’ faith Oi'm goin’ to ax yeZ. : Sot. Oh, Mrs. McFlickerty, don’t ax me—no, don’t ax me! I feel that I will have to git up and run if you say anything about marryin’. Bri. Och, ye’re a blatherskite! Shure, an’ yez nadn’t be soschary. Oi won’t be kapin’ ye very long in suspense. (Raising her hand and speaking solemnly.) Solomon Scooper, Oi wull now proceed to ax yez one question—the most im- porthant question that has iver been axed to ye before or since—wull ye be me husband? Wiull ye stick to me through thick and thin? Wull ye supphort me an’ me children in proper style, an’ love me wid yer whole heart? Wuili yez? Son. No, Pll be doused if I do! Briw. (Springing up.) What's that ye say? Do ye m’ane to cast me off? = Son. (Rising.) Cast cannons! I don’t want to have noth- in’ to do with you an’ your brood of Irish brats. Brim. Be jabers, now, an’ Oill sue yez fur britch of promises. Sou. Britch of the dickens! You don’t kalkilate I’m a fool,do you? Better gohome. WhenI want a wife I reckon I can go out and hunt one. s Brip. (Angrily) Och, an’ Oill make ye jump fur this day’s work. Where’s my bonnet? (Snatches her bonnet off the table.) What did yez write a letther an’ sind fur me if yez were goin’ to tr’ate me that way? Son. I didn't write you a letter, and I didn’t send for ou. y Brrp. Faix, an’ ye’re an ould lyin’ thafe. Oi’ll sue ye now fur britch of promises, Sox. And I'll sue you for gittin’ up a disturbance in a re- spectable family. Brip. Ye’re an ould haythun, an’ Oi don’t want to have anything to do wid yez. (Zvit BRIDGET.) ou. Well, I can’t say much for that woman's bringin’ up. Now that she’s gone, I’ll invite my betrothed wife to come in. (Snickers.) He, he! It sounds kind of delicious to say my betrothed wife! And it makes me feel like as if I was some- body else. (Goes, to door and opens it.) Come in, Arabella; come in, betrothed wife! The sun shines brightly, and I feel as happy as a blue bird on a white oak stump in May. (Re-enter ARABELLA ) Son. The old tiger is gone. She has met with a sad dis ) ths n’ it but ) ax me! ing Se. eT; m- sh in 1e l- yf ee ~~: 61 THE REPUDIATED LEGACY, appointment. Mrs. Bridget McFlickerty also wanted me. I feel that am getting popular. But, Arabella, I think I was makin’ some kind of a remark in regard to sealin’ the bargain with a buss. I s’pose a buss would now be in order. (Zukes her hand.) Ara. Oh, Solomon, ain’t you ashamed? Son. Well, no, I guess not. (Zo audience.) And I jest want to ax you, accordin’ to the way this thing has turned out, if I hadn’t ought to be the happiest man in the county? Jim. (Putting his head in at the door.) Certain sure, uncle. (Advancing.) An’ I'll be the neat happiest man, as the Mutual Friend, if Arabella will add to the attractions of the Scooper _ House a decent table and a well-regulated landlord. Son. Oh, you rogue. ARA. Oh, you presumptuous man. Jim. Bless you my children—bless you. (Curtain.) THE REPUDIATED LEGACY; oR, RIGHT HEARTS MAKE BRIGHT HOMES. FOR TWO FEMALES, Scene I.—Mary Lun, seated at work in a scantily-furnished room. HELEN, her younger sister, rushes in. Heten. On, Mary, at last at last! Ive got a position. No more skimping and pinching, as we have done the last two years. You shall have everything nice, you old dear, and we will have a good time! Isn't it too good to betrue? (Glances around.) Mary. Be quiet, you foolish girl, long enough to tell me what it.is all about. Come and sit down, like a rationai being. I am just aching for something new, and I believe you really have some news this time. H. Now, that is toobad; just as if I never had any before! However, I will forgive you, and sit down long enough to tell you, although I feel as though I could dance all day. Well, I went first to No. 50 Blank street, where they advertised for a typewriter, but the place was already filled. I suppose I looked rather disappointed. for a gentleman in the room asked me if I could undertake correspondence. I said I THE DIME DIALOGUES, thought 1 could, so he gave me the address of a Miss Preston. I found her ladyship up to her knees (excuse the expression, but it was literally se), up’to her knees in letters. She wanted a typewriter, and assistant as well—one who could answer many of the letters with pen. We talked a few minu‘es, and the upshot of it is, lam to go there every day from nine until three, and I am to have ten dollarsa week! Think of it, Mary! Ten dollars! Why, that will be luxury for us. You shall have a new gown, and clozk, and— M. (Laughing.) Hold on, cear!- Ten dollars won’t do everything. However, it will be a great increase to our slen- der income, thanks to Uncle Scott. We must repay him as soon as possible. HELEN. Repay him? Not much! I don’t intend ever to return a cent! He gave me the money, however grudgingly, for my lessons in typewriting, and I most certainly don’t intene to return it to the stingy old curmudgeon, not a cent of it! Thanks to him, indeed! Humph! M. Helen! Helen! H. Oh, you need not put on that shccked air! You don’t respect him any more than I do. Dear me, I quite forgot; I have a letter for you, and I do believe it is from that queer Cousin Frank, judging from the chirography. M. I wonder what he can ke writing to me akout? It must be quite five years since we last heard from him. (Ozens letier.) J don’t believe I can make it out. (Reads -) “Dear Covsin Mary: : ** When this reaches you, I shall be in my-—my—grave,” it looks like. H. (Looking over her shoulder.) I guess that isit. Dear me, how horrible! What did he want to write and tell us that for? M. (Reading on.) ‘‘ Your father and mother were always so kind to me, that I wish you to—to—take—my little— little—” I can’t muke out the next word, Helen. H. Neither can I. : - M. (Reading.) ‘‘ Little something or another, now in its— i-n-f-a-ncy, infancy.” Goodness, Helen, it is his baby? H. A baby? Impossible! M. Yes, but listen—‘‘ which I hope will grow and” t-b-r, oh, yes, ‘thrive under your—your,” what is that word, your something ‘‘care.”’ Oh, ‘‘ fostering care.” H. Does the man mean to saddle- us with a baby? Per- fectly horrid! M. ‘‘It is all I have, and I leave it to you and Helen. Should you refuse this care—” 5 H. Which we certainly shall. : M. ‘Uncle Scott must take it, but I prefer you should have it, He has enough of his own. Write, or go to Mr, THE REPUDIATED LEGACY. 63 pee | Hil!, whom you know, after the—re-re-ce-receipt of this. 1 hope this little, littl—” what is that word? H. Giveitup. Goon! ' M. I guess it is ‘‘legacy. This little legacy will prove a comfort to my dear cousins.” H. Little legacy! Comfort indeed! The man must have been crazy. Let Uncle Scott take the little nuisance. It would just be a good joke on him. Why don’t you say some- thing, Mary, instead of sitting there dreaming? What are you thinking of? Surely not of taking the child? M. Think, Helen, of dooming it to life at Uncle Scott’s. H. Think of dooming it to our poverty. M. Better that than the harsh up-bringiug it would get there. H. Mary, I do believe you want to take the youngster. M. Well it is natural, I suppose. ’ HH. You must be going crazy too. How could we hamper ourselves with another mouth to feed; another to care for, _ when it is all we can do to scratch along as it is? It might _ not seem so mach at first, but the expense would increase every year; food, clothing, schooling, ete. M. Isuppose youareright Yet I would like to take the little thing to save it from such a life as it will lead. _ H.. Perhaps uncle will send it to an Orphan Asylum. It would be just like him—the old miser. - M. I should not wonder at all. Oh, Helen, if we only could take it. I might get something to do here at home to help along. H. What! and take care of a baby too? No, indeed! You are not able, and must not entertain the idea for a moment. M.. I will wait a day or two, anyway, before I write to Mr, Hill. Now let us have our tea. (Curtain falls.) Scene I].—Same as first scene. Mary seated sewing. Hunter HELEN, pale and excited ; falls into a chair erying. _ M. What is the matter, Helen?s What has happened? (HELEN still sobs.) Welen, what is it? Come, child, you must not cry like that. H. Oh, Mary. (Sobding.) Such a sight! M. Yes, dear. There, don’t try to tell me until you feel better. Let me take off your things. (Soothes HELEN, and puts her things away ) : H. Iwas crossing Main street, when I heard a shout and 64 THE DIME DIALOGUES. screams, and there, under the feet of two large horses, lay a little child and its mother, crushed to death, while another child stood near screaming. Oh, it was dreadful! A woman stood on the curb wringing her hands and moaning. Some one asked her if she knew the woman that was killed, and she said they were neighbors, It seems the dead mother was a poor widow with these two little ones, and all they had she earned. She had just taken some work back, and in crossing the street, the little one got ahead of her. She saw the truck , coming, sprung forward to catch the child, and both went under the horses’ feet. Oh, I never want to see anything so dreadful again. (Ories again.) M. I don’t wonder you are so upset, dear. H. The other little one stood crying for its mother, and the woman said it would have to go to the asylum, be- ’ cause there was no one to care for it. She said she would take it, only she had six of her own, and couldn’t nossi- bly. Xt Poor little thing! H. It looked so pretty and cunning in spite of its poor clothes. It made me think of Cousin Frank’s baby; sup- posing that should have to go to the Poorhouse or Asylum. ‘ M. It probably will have to. I doubt if Uncle Scott will shoulder the expense of any child not his own. H. Oh, Mary, if that poor woman could care for six chil- dren, surely we might care for one / M. Ithink we might manage to. But, you must decide, for you earn the extras, and it would be a good deal for you to undertake. You must sleep over it. H. No; I decide now. We will take the baby, and you shall go for it to-morrow. You can get home by six o’clock, and I will have a warm supper for you, and everything ready for the little one. I wonder if it isa boy or a girl? I never thought of that. I do hope it is a girl, and has a pretty name. (Curtain falls.) Scene III.—Same as others ; a cradle in the room, and HELEN Sussing around, H. There! Ibelieve that is Mary now. (Rushes to the door and opens it, to admit Mary.) Where is the baby? Mary Lee, don’t tell me you have not brought it! M. I have not brought it. I left it in the bank, HW. What? M. Oh, Helen! There wasn't any baby at all. We read ° Peo 0 ped THE REPUDIATED LEGACY. 65 that letter wrong. It was a little fortune he left us, if we would take it, and he hoped it would ‘‘ grow under our fos- tering care.” I never was more surprised in my life. No More drudgery; no more want. And, Helen, if it had not been for you it would have gone to Uncle Scott, and we would have been poor always. H. I can’t believe it! It is too good to be true! Poor Cousin Frank! We never thought he would get ahead in this aids goods. And to leave his money to us! How good of im! M. But queer, just like him, to say if we did not want it it Uncle Scott could have it; just as though we would decline it! H. No; not even if it had been a baby. Don’t give me the credit, Mary. It was because I saw that you wanted the baby so badly that I gave in. So, thanks to you our good for- _ tune comestous. . M. It has been a lesson to us never to jump at a conclu- sion, for by s> doing we nearly lost our good luck. H. I shall always keep this cradle, as a reminder that ta | do good, no matter what it costs us, is sure to bring its Yeward. And, oh! Mary, lam going to take that poor little _ child whose mother was killed in the street. That shall com- | pensate for the baby which did not come with the legacy. | Shall it be so, dear? M. With all my heart! It is our duty now. We wilk | make the little one our own, H. And shame Uncle Seott. M. Not shame him, but show him what great good money can do when a loving heart directs its use. You area dear. (if¢sses her.) M. Andsoare you! (Throws her arms around her.) (Curtain.) ~ THE DIME DIALOGUES. PROF. PACHYDERM’S MASTODON. and JIM. Scrye I.—Pror, PacuypErm’s study. The PROFESSOR sitting| reading a paper by a table full of books and papers. THOMAS) dusting te furniture, etc. The Prorussor wears a long coat,| ¥j spectacles, and when he leaves, he puts on a broad-brimmed) 4, fat. ey oP w ec Oharacters:—PRor PacuypErM; THOMAS, his servant; PAT) m p ¥ ir Pror. Strange, very strange! If this be true, and it} ~ * sounds probable enough, what may we not yet be able to} Jearn? * T. Did you speak, sir? ‘ F Pror. No, I was talking to myself. I have just been | reading an article which states that it is nct improbable that the mastodon may still be found alive in Alaska. Wunder- ful! T. The what, sir? Pror. The mastodon, a huge animal which geologists have hitherto supposed to be extinct Perhaps you have never heard of a mastodon, Thomas? T. Not as I remembers on, sir. Prov. Well, perhaps you may live to sce one, Thomas. T.. An’ might I ask what it’s like? Pror. Why, it was an animal Jarger than the biggest elephant. One of its teeth alone weighed seventeen pounds, and it consumed seven bushels of food at a single meal. T. Whew! An’ you say there be one found alive? Pror. So this account states. (Reads :) ‘‘ While hunting a few miles from the river, two Indians came upon a trail consisting of enormous tracks, fully two feet across. Follow- ing cautiously on these signs, they at length espied a pro- digious animal, as large, they assert, as a white man’s house. Its teeth, they declared, were as long as a man’s leg, and 7 curved outward, while its ears were likened to a sealskin in size. Terrified at the sight of such enormous game, the two — hunters promptly retreated. Other native hunters corroborate — this story with similar accounts of their experiences; accounts which they are reluctant to relate for fear of ridicule, or from some superstitious feelings regarding the matter.” T. What do you think of it, sir? Pror. I don’t know what to think. I wish I knew it to be true I-would spare no pains nor expense to obtain a specimen. ‘Think what a boon to science it would be to have areal live mastodon to study. If 1 only could get one, I should consider it the crowning achievement of my life. 4 PROF. PACHYDERM’S MASTODON, 67 Then would my name become known to scientists over all the world, Such a glorious addition to our litle stock of knowl- edge would be something hitherto undreamed of. And if the ‘T} mastodon were found, why not other animals hitherto sup- - posed to be extinct? (Rising, and walking up and down.) _ What a grand thing it would be, if some day we should find ‘J\ in the unexplored regions of the earth the megatherium, the i glyptodon, the paleotherium, the titanothere, the dinoceras, a the xipuedon, or mayhap even the winged pterodactyl, the terrible dinosaur, tte ichthyosaurus, or the ramphorhyneus. | It makes my brain whirl just tothink of it. (Resumes his it | ~ seat.) T. If them things were as terrible as their names, I should be afeard of them. Pror. Ah—well—of course we should wish to view them n} ata safe distance. _ ¥. But this masterdone, or whatever you calt it, sir— -| Pror. Mas-to-don, Thomas. a T. Well, this critter, whatever it is, supposin’ now you ~ could get one, how much would you be wiltin’ to pay? _ Pror. Pay? Vd pay anything’ Vve half a mind to go r | to Alaska myself and interview those hunters. E . T. What ever would you do with the thing after you got _ him? Pror. If I were fortunate enough to become the possessor of one, I’a find some way to take care of it. (Looking at his _ watch.) Goodness! it’s half-past ten, and I had an engage- - ment to lecture at tem before the Society for the Dissemination. of Useful knowledge Concerning the Triassic and Jurassic _ Periodz of Mesozoic Time. I must be off. (Keit.) TT. Well, now the old gent is gone, I must sit down and think awhile. Dve got the biggest scheme of the season im my head, if I can only work it out. (Sits down in the Prores- sor’s chair.) I believe you could make him believe a’most anything. If I had some one to help me who wouldn’t peach afterwards, ’'d do it! Vd rig up an old masterdon, or what _ ever he cuils the critter, and make him pay me a good, round * sum for it, and then I’d skip before he found me out. (A knock heard.» Come in. (Enter Ju and Pat, tee rather rough locking men.) Jon. Hullo, Thomast T. Hullo, yourself! Par. The top o’ the mornin’ to ye, an’ how’s yer health? T. Gh, I’m flourishing. P. Faix, thin, an’ that’s more than the rist of us kim say. _ T. What’s the matter now? You don’t look as though yer health was a-sufferin’. SR: P. Did ye iver hear the loikes of that, now? i Soa i ct Ww Ee Pee 68 THE DIME DIALOGUES. J. The fact is, we’re out of a job, both on us, an’ we thought as how, mebbe, you cculd put us up to something. You gin’rally manage to know what's goin’ on. T. Well, I rather guess I do know.a thing or two, an’ a good thing when I sees it. - P. Oh, the consate of him! Did ye iver hear an Irishman brag loike that, now? T. I was just a-wishin’ I had somebody to help me. I wonder, now, if you could do it? P. I’m the b’ye for ye, thin, for it’s jist achin’ I am to help somebody or something. J. What are you up to now, that you want so much help about? Anything shady? T. You can judge of that after I’ve told you my scheme. P. Want any capital? T. No, I'll furnish the capital and divvy the profits. ll take half and give you two t’other half. See? P. Isee, says the bloind man; I see clearly. But, what- iver is it we’ve todo? I'm riddy for anything that won’t land me in the jug. So out wid it, me b’ye! J. How much profits will there be? I ain’t goin’ into any- thing that won't bring in a good return. T. Ill tell you that, later on. First of all, before [ let you in it at all, you must promise me never to peach. I won’t tell you a thing about it unless you promise. P. Sure, an’ if we peached on you, w’u'dn’t we be peach- in’ on oursilves? : J. Goon, Thomas, we ain’t fools. T. Well, 1 can’t tell you here; we might be interrupted. Let’s go out somewhere. (Exeunt.) (Curtain falis.) Scene Il.—A plain room. Stage partly darkened. Some- thing in the background representing a lurge cage, with a eur- tain before it. : (Enter Tuomas, Par and Jr, the two latter dressed as Indians.) : : T. Now we are in for it, sure enough. If we can only keep the Professor from looking behind the curtain until we 7_ get out of the way, we can skip in safety. Be sure you kvep — your story straight. Remember that you are to say as little — as possible, and only answer when you're spoken to. You, ‘Pat, keen as still as you can, or your brogue will betray you. — P. I'lltry, but I ixpect twill be hard worruk to kape the — ~~ PROF, PACHYDERM’S MASTODON. 69 _ twist off me tongue. Be jabers! I wish I was through wid it. _ It’s not natural for me to kape still very long to wonst. J. That's true for ye, Pat! Ye'd better let me do the most _ of the talkin’, and you say little things like “Ugh! ugh! _ White man big chief!” ‘ P. Ugh, ugh! Whoite man big chafe. That's aisy - enough. B T. Now, Pat, don’t you go an’ spoil it all. This is the best thing I’ve done yet, an’ I don’t want ‘it to fizzle out at the end. Goodness, though, but I’ve had hard work to keep the Professor quiet. He’s that excited over the expected mastodon, that he hardly knows whether he is standing on his head or his heels. I've had to make up all kinds of won- derful stories ahout its progress on the road, an’ how we kep’ it hidden so’s that people couldn't see it. An’ a pretty bill I presented him with, fer ihe expense of feedin’ the critter, ete. J. Trust you for that. P. P’raps we'd better be afther presinting our bills to Thomas, here? T. Id give a good deal to see his face when he pulls aside _ the curtain an’ sees nothin’ there, I hope we’ll be far enough _ out of the way. J. I guess we'd better be out of the way if we know what’s _ good for ourselves. We can run fast enough, once we get _ out of this here Indian toggery. : —. Faix, an’ if we drap this, there’ll be no need to run. He'd niver recognize us again, an’ we c’u’d be as innocent as lambs. Have we seen two Injut fellers goin’ by this way? _ Oh, no, av coorse not. Bs T. He’ll be here in a minnit, I expect. Remember to _ Yattle the chains loud, an’ make as biga noise as you kin without bein’ discovered, for I wants to git him good and scared. P. Tl remimber. An’ I’m to sp’ake nothin’ at all, at all, exceptin’ ‘“‘Ugh, ugh! Whoite man big chate.” (Enter Proressor, looking eagerly around.) Pror. Where is it? Don’t keep me any longer in sus- pense. T. Good-evenin’, Professor. I was a-gettin’ worried be- cause you didn’t come, an’ the beast is a-gcttin’ so ugly, there’s no doin’ anything with him. I'll be glad enough to git rid of him an’ put bim in your hands. > Pror. (Looking timidly at the cage.) Is he so very ugiy? Can't these Indians master him? Are they not sufficiently familiar with the ways of wild beasts to know how best to - contro] them? ne _ T. They're ugly theirselves, sometimes. You can’t allus - THE DIME DIALCGUES. depend on ‘tikors. However, I’ve bribed them heavily enough to keep them im order for-to-night, I guess. Prov, Oh, Thomas! You don’t know bow I’ve looked . forward to this moment. The thought of the realization of my fondest hopes is perfectly overw ‘helmi ing. If, now that I have obtained him, he should prove unmanageable, so that he even might have to be killed, I do not believe 1 could survive the shock. T. You'll hev to get some very strong men to take care of him. Ishouldn’t like to undertake the job, that's all. (4 great rattiing ef chains is heard, and noise as of some heavy body moving. The InpDIANs can do this ly pulling chains which are concealed im the cige.) There, hes gittin’ cneasy again. (Turning tothe INDIANS.) Can’t you keep him quiet awhile till the white chief looks at him? P. Whoite man big chafe. T. (Behind the Proressor’s back. “Shaking his fist a at Pst and speaking aside.) Shut up, you fool! You'll give the whole thing away. Pror. Are these the hunters who followed down the monster? T. Yes, sir. Would you like to ask them anything? Pror. Yes. (Going toward the cage as if to lift the eurtain.) T. (Springing forward and eatching him by thearm) Now, Professor, I do beg of you to do nothin’ resky. If you rouse -the critter’s anger at the start, [ won’t answer for the con- sequences; I really won't. Pror. When can I see héin? T. (Turning to Jim.) You say you Pate him by the River Ukon, as he was drinking? J. Ugh! Sce him one, two, many times. Dig hole for him fall into. Him heap ugly. (More noises heard, and @ loud, deep grunt. Both Invians jump to their feet as though scared. ) : Pror. Goodness! Don’t go away, my good fellows; don’t, Limpiore you! Wait until 1 have made some kind of arrangement. T. ‘There, there, now, Big Son of a Gun, just sit down again. This here gentleman wants to talk to you. (INDIANS grunt end sit down.) P. Me want heap silvert Whoite man promise poor Injun heap silver. T.- Yes, yes, ali in good time. (Aséde.) Confound your brogue! J. Me want firewater!- T. There, you see how it is, Professor. They’ re wantin’ — somethin’ or other all the time, an’ if they don’t git it, they're — sey as kin he. PROF. PACHYDERM S MASTODON, Pror. Thomas, that cage doesn’t look as thongh it held a mastodon; it doesn’t look large eneugh. T. Largeenough! | hope you don’t imagine we could get acage big enough for him to stand up in when he’s traveling around? Great Seott! He's been lyin’ down ever since he started from Alaska. Pror. Lying down! Why, Thomas, he will be so cramped that he may never be able to stand up straight again. I don’t wonder he’s ugly, poor thing. I fear Le will be scriously injured. T. Ité couldn’t very well be helped. {Chains rattle furi- ously, grants wre heard, and a general commotion ensues. PRo- FEssor runs out and then returns ) Pror. Is he quiet again? » TT. (Going up te Inptans.) Now, see here, you've agreed to keep that critter quiet, aa’ now see you do it. P. Me wants silver! 3. White man promise heap silver. Want im. T. Perhaps you'd better pay these men, sir, thesum agreed upon, an’ then they'll be more wiillin’ to tackle the beast. Pror. Very well, I have the amount bere. (Hands Tuomas a bag, which he gives to JM.) I. Now take that, an’ go git the animal some supper. (inprans grunt and shuffle off the stage.) While you’ve got your money out, sir, you might as well pay me what you promised. I’ve been to a great deal of expense, as well as _ troubje, sir, au’ I actually haven’t enough money left to buy } ty supper with. ; Pror. Certainly, certainly, Thomas. You have earned yoar reward nobly, and Lam pleased to give it to you. You cannot realize what this will be to science, as well as to me. (Lukes out a roll of bills and gives tt to Tromas, who bows very low in taking it.) Now, Thomas, I think you'd better go and hurry up those Indians, for 1 am so anxious to see my prize that I can hardly wait. Ee . Yes, sir, Pll go immejutly. (Erit.) Pror. Alone with my treasure at last) How I have longed for this moment! A few years ago, and my wildest dreams would never have compassed such an event as this, And - now if is no longer a dream—it is reality. (Pauses, looks | toward cage, and then moves @ little nearer.) The monster _ seems pretty quiet now—I wonder if he sleeps. Could I dare to take one look at him? He is so still, I think it must be he sleeps. I believe { will venture to draw the curtain a litile. (Goes up hesitatingly, and pulls aside one edge of the curtain. Looks in, starts back and looks again.) What does this mean? AmI dreaming? (Runs and turns up the light, then goes and pulls the curtain entirely back revealing an empty cage.) Where is the mastodon? Is it possible that I have been deceived? - do odd jobs like; so it’s goin’ I be, an’ whin I come back in q 2 THE DIME DIALOGUES. But, no! How could that be, when the Indians themselves were here? Can the beast have escaped? Where is that Thomas? Why doesn’t he come back? (Runs and opens door, and calls wildly :) Thomas! Thomas! I believe he’s gone. Ha! What's this? (Picks up one of the INDIAN’s blankets and » some feathers, etc., just outside the door or curtain. Holds them up to view.) Those Indians! I see it all now! I have been a miserable dupe, an easy tool in the hands of unscrupulous scoundrels. Fool that I was! (Walking about excitedly and flinging the things on the floor.) Alas! Alas! Thus do my dreams of renown vanish. I shall be the laughing stock of my scientific friends, if they hear of it, as of course they will. I shall not stay—I will vanish—I will— Vorck IN AUDIENCE. Go hunt mastodons in Alaska. Pror, Oh, you unfeeling wretch! AnorHzR Vorce. Go hunt for the Irish Indians. Pror. (fiercely.) Oh, you miserable torment! ANOTHER Vorce. Go hire yourself for a British tourist! Pror. That’s the meanest fling of ull. You're a mam moth—oh! oh! (Places hand to head and exit.) (Curtain.) THE TOO GOOD-LOOKING MAN; OR, BRIDGET McCARTY AT THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S. Characters: —Mixe O’SHauGunessy, Mr. Brown, Mr. CLARKE, Photographers; Brrpgmr McCarry, Mary Moriarty. Scenz I.—Kitchen. Bripewr at trening-table. Mike stand- tig near. Bripeet. Phwat’s that ye do be sayin’, Mike? Mixe. Shure it’s goin’ away I am. Brip. Goin’ away! And phwat for? - Mrxg. The boss do be a-sendin’ of me. He says it’s a dol- lar and a half a day he’ll be after givin’ me ag’in I go down to © his counthry place fer the summer to assist the coachman an’ the fall, Vil have a n’ate little pile, an’ it’s married we'll be, shure. : _Brip. Get along wid ye now! Perhaps it'll be some wan 4 else as will marry me foreninst thin. THE TOO GOOD LOOKING MAN. %3 Mrkr. Ave I thought that, I’d break his head fer him, the spalpeen! Brim. How c’u’d ye, if yez didn’t know who it ’u’d be? But thin, it’s jokin’ Iwur. Ochone. Phativer shall I do the long summer widout avena sight o’ ye? It’s breakin’ me heart ‘Il be intirely. (Puts her apron to her eyes.) Ee Mrxe. Arrah, thin, darlint, don’t take on so, or nivver a sthep’llI go. Think av the money, an’ the nice start it'll give us; an’ thin ye’ll not worruk any more, but play the foine leddy in our own shanty. So, take down yer apron an’ give me a smack, or I’ll be late to me evenin' worruk, (Smacks her loudly and goes out.) ; Brip. (Throwing her apron over her head and rocking to _ and fro.) Oh, wirra, wirra! Did iver I say sich a counthry 4 asthis! It’s go here, an’ go there, untwill wan’s head is _ turned iniirely wid the worry ave it all. How do I know but _ Mike ’ll be afther findin’ another gurrl down in the counthry, an’ thin I'll be the laffin’ stock of all the other gurrls, particu- lar that Mary Moriarty. She’s jist a-dyin’ fer Mike hersel’, Ah! Ihave it! (Lhrows her apron off her head.) Vl fix him so he won’t ferget nie that aisy. Ill hev me picter took! | That’s pwhat | will, fer him to take along wid him. Jist loike the Missuses last wan phwat she had tu’k last wake, _ only not thim expinsive kind, but jist thim tin wans. Won't _ I look swate, though! I kin do my hair the very patthern av hers, an’ me new gownd is her bist wan toa tay! Didn't I- _ take it down from the closet whin she was out an’ find as how it were made, an’ set up till midnoight t’ree noights rinnin’ to make moine the same? An’ didn’t I say the missus lookin’ all ways to onc’t fer jealousy on Sunday whin I wint to church? 'fo-morry’s me day out, an’ it’s to the picter-man [Pll go; thin, _ whin Mike comes to me own cousin’s mother’s father-1n-law’s, where I be goin’ to take tay, I'll surprise him wid it. Faith! There’s the misthress callin’ this minute, an’ me ironin’ not near done. (Hit) | Scrnx Il.—Photographer’s. Large screen, camera, ete. Mr. CriarKe has just tuken Mrxw’s picture. Some one is heard coming in. MrKR, seeing who it is, steps behind the screen. (Enter BRIDGET, @ perfect caricature of style.) _ Brrp. It’s me picter I want tu’k, an’ ye make it purty, now, for it’s fer—__ (Stops suddenly and looks confused.) _ Mr. CiarKe. For your young man, I suppose. _ Bri. Ah, now thin. Ye do be good at guessin’. Yis, _ it’s fer me young man, an’I want it the purtiest in town, (Takes off her bonnet while she speaks.) a E 74 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mr. C. Will you bave a full length, or be taken sitting? Brim. Tl have jist all of me ye cantake. I want me dress tu’k too. Mr. C. Allright. Stand right here—so. (Places her and arranges the head-rest.) Brip. Och, murther! Phwat are ye doin’? (Jerks her head out.) Mr. C. » That is just to keep your head steady. Now keep still and let me arrange it again. : Bri. No, ll not! I kin kape me head sthill widout any” murtherin’ irons. How do | know but phwat they'll be around me neck nixt thing, a-sthranglin’ me? I’m not that grane as ye same to think me, an’ | advise ye to play no games on me! . Mr. C. Well—stand just as ] put you. Turn your head so (turns her head sidewise,)and lock at this. (Pointing to something on the wall.) Brip. An’ if 1 luk there T’ll not see phwat ye are doin’. a kape me eye on ye, I will. No ch’atin’ me, ’'d have ye now! Mr. C. Then, you must have a full face. Brip. Full face! Av coorse I'll have a full face! Ye didn’t think I’d have half a face, did ye? Mr. C. We generally take about three-quarters. Brip. T’ree quarters! Well, it's four-quarters. I paid ‘the man outside, an’ | want my money’s worth! Mr. C. Very well! Stand right still. (aces her toward the camera, and proceeds to take the picture. When he pulls off the cloth she jumps back and screams.) Brip. Howly Moses! He’s goin’ to shoot me! Mr. Brown (Rushing in.) What is the matter? = Brip He’ll murther me! Let me out of this! Give me | back my money and let me go. (Rushes for door.) MR. B. detains her.) Mr B. Here holdon! What is the matter, Clarke? Mr. C. . Matter is, I guess she never sat for a picture before, and don’t know what to make of it. Afraid of the |_ camera, apparently. 5 Mr. B. Here, miss, let me show you. Come and look for | - yourself, Clarke, stand over there and let her see. (CLARKE | stands in front of camera while she looks in ) % . Brrp. Howly mother of Moses! Will I look like that? — Then I'll niver be tuk, fer I’ll niver sthand on me head at all, — at all. : 4 Mz. B. You don’t have to stand on your head, only it — Icoks that way through the glass. Come, now, you will take just the sweetest picture in town. (Winking at Mr C.) Let — me fix you. (Mr. C. returns to camera, and Bripenr to her © place where Mr. B. poses her.) THE TOO GOOD-LOOKING MAN. is) Mr. B. Turn your head a little; so. Now, Clarke, let her go. (Mr. C. proceeds to take picture. When he takes off the cloth, BRIDGEY s/arts.) = U q Mr. C. There! You've spoiled it again. : Bs (ORE EO — : Brip. How-c’'u’d J spile it? I'm not makin’ the picter. e - er 9 1 . Ye naden’t thry to ch’ate me that way. Mr. C. I wish you and your picture were in Halifax. . Mr. B. Never mind, Clarke; the fun is worth it. It is ~ 4 rich. Mr. C. She has spoiled two plates already. Mr B. Now, miss, do try to kecp perfectly still this time, and we will have a lovely picture, quick as a wink. (Poses her again.) Br. I'll not budge now, so go ahead. Mr. C. (Takes picture, then retires to his den.) - Mr. B. There; it is done now. I hear some one in the office. Just wait here until Mr. Clarke has the picture ready for you. 3 (Heit Mr. B.) Brin. (Soliloquizing.) Til have it on that Mary Moriarty. She thinks Mike is swate on her, but it is me picter he'li be after takin’ wid him; bad ’cess to her! (Mr. C. brings in pic- ture.) Mr. C. There, I think yoa will like that. . Bri. Ab, but zsn’t it mesiif, as nuteril as life! V7’u’dn’t that Mary Moriarty die wid jealousy c’u’d she say it. Mr. ©. Ill have it ready for you by the time you have your bonnet on. (Goes to den. Briperr puts on her bonnet ; as she does so, MARY MoRtIarty comes in.) _' Mary. An’ is it you, Biddy McCarty? It’s a foine day, _ shure. Brip. Youw’re right there. I didn’t know’twere yer afther- } noon out, ; : ; Mary. Nayther wuz it. But, ye see, I wuz minded to hey me picter tu’k to day, so I jist tould the misthress as how it were particilar, an’ she let me go. + Bri. Phwat made it so particilar? Mary. Weill, ye see, Mike O'Shaughnessy is goin’ out av -} town— : Bri. Mike! Phwat hez he got to do wid it? Mary. Considerable, I sh’u’d say, secin’ as how we’re tobe married in the fail. _ Brip. Mike to marry you? It's a big mistake you're _ a-makin’ if you're afther thinkin’ anything av the kind. Lle’s - goin’ to marry me! _ Mary. That's alie, Bridget McCarty! _ Br. It’snolie! He promised me yesterday. Mary. He promised me last night, Brip. He didn’t! Many. I say he did! a 76 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Brip. You pug-nosed, squint- -eyed thing, you! Do you suppose that Mike, or any other man, ’u’@& be afther lookin’ at ye when J’ around? Mary. (Flying at her.) Vil t’ache ye to call me names, ye crooked-mouth, red-headed— Brip. lll t’ache ye. (They grab each other.) (Enter Mr B and Mr. C.) Mr. B. Here, what is the matter? Stop that noise cr I'll put you both out! Brip. Put her out, the bla’guard! Mary. Put her out, the hussy! (Mr. Brown and Mr. CLARKE separate them.) Mr. C. Here, take your picture and go. (Mary snatches it and stamps on it.) Brip. You—you—you— (Tries to get at her.) Mr. B.. Come, clear ou’ or I shail call a policeman. (They go out, still fighting.) Mike, (Stepping from behind screen.) I guess it’s about time I lift town, never to return. What ll they say whin Ann McFinnigan, next door, tells er story, an’ shows her weddin’-gown? Arrah, bad luck it is to meself to be so good- lookin’ and pop’lar, (Exit.) (Curtain.) HOW CAESAR CONQUERED. FOR ONE FEMALE,* FIVE MALES AND A GHOST, Curtain drawn discloses SAuire Smoot in a meditative mood Room poorly furnished, — ‘SALLIE. Lemme see‘ Dave de Prince, an’ Sam Spick, an Pete Whimp, an’ dat low- down nig, Cesar Cash. Ebery one is dead-gone on me, an’ de question hab got ter be producted— which one ob dese four sha!l hab ce bonah ob leadin’ me to de altah. (Noise without.) You Josiar Augustus, d’ye hear? Vorce. (Without.) Co’se I duz! SALLIE. Well, den, you keep yo" mouf shet, or I'll make — yesick. D’ye hear? § Vorcn, Co'se I duz. * The female character, in this case, can be assumed by aboy or y oung 4 man—as it doubtless wi.l be, in most cases of its presentation. 1 at 3 HOW CAISAR CONQUERED, tes Satire. As I was a-sayin’—dat’s got to be somefin’ ’finite _ arrivat. Dese free cullud gen’lemen an’ dat nig Csesar are gwan to hab a row ’bout me, an’ dati be misfortunate if any- _ Ving gits burted. (Very gentle tap or knock.) Who's dat, I wonder? Pears to me l’s very narvous. (Another tap.) I _ Spec it’s some ob de gen’lemen. Dat’s de sgectable way ob _ knockin’. (Another tap.) Come in, sah! 5 % (Door opens, or curtain parts, and tn steps Guost.) Satire. G-g-good Lordy! Wh-wh-what ye want? Guost. Sallie Smoot! SaLuig. Wh-wh-what for? Guost. For promising to marry four niggers. # Satu. Oh, Mister Ghost, 1 didn’t do dat—indeed I _ didn’t! _ _ Guost. No use talking. You've got to come with me down to the graveyard, there to dig up your grandmother's _ bones, and then to swear by your grandmother’s skull to _ marry Cesar Cash. Come! Sati. Oh—oh—Mister Ghost! don’t take me dar—dow’t / Guost, Will you marry Cesar Cash if I let you off? Satin. Dat I will. I lubs Cesar Cash. He is de gen'le- _ man ob my choice—’deed he is. _. Guost. Will you swear to it? Saute. Deed | will. ; Guost. I must have a witness, _ Satire. (Calls.) Josiar Augustus, be ye dar? — Vorck. ( Without.) Co’se Lis! } Satum. Come yar! an’ be quick about it, too! 2 (Noise without and enter Jostan, a colored toy of six or eight | years, clad in a man's old clothes and big boots.) Jos. (His back to Guost.) What’cher want? | Satium. See dar! (Pointing to Gros.) ; e (Jostan turns and shows great fear and tremblin7 ) _ Quost. (Zo Sattim.) Hold up your hand. Now swear: _ Ill be bitten by a red dog! : Satim. (Repeats.) Il be bitten by a red dog, - Guost. I'll swallow a live frog. Satie. (Repeats.) Vl swallow a live frog. Guost. I'll ride a nightmare. Satire. (Repeats.) Wii ride a night-mare, Guos7. 11] marry Cesar Cash, I swear. Satie. (Repeats.) Vil marry Oxsar Cash, I swear. Guosr. So help me Jupiter Pluvius. Satire. (Repeats.) So help me Jupiter Pluvius. Guost. Keep your oath, cr behold your grandmother's ches pursuiag you wherever you go. (Zvit.) x THE DIME DIALOGUES. Sanu. (Looking at Jostau.) Wh-wh-what ye scared for? Jos. (Still shaking.). I ai-n’t scared. I’m gwan to church to-morrer, (Loud knocks and shouts without.) (Zinter Cmsarn, @ roughly-dressed negro; PRINCH, @ negro. dandy, and SAM and Pere. All appear to be quarreling, as they enter, but they stop in amazement when they discover SALLIE and Jostau, still shaking with fright.) Prince, Sallie! Sallie Smoot! Dear Sallie! What 7sde_ 4 matter? Pete, Josiar! Josiar Augustus! Dear Josiar! What 7s de matter? Sam. Yes, bofe of you—what’s de matter? Sain. (In hollow voice.) Ghost! Jos, (With a shriek.) Ghost! Aut. (Hrightened.) Ghost? When?—whar?—which?— why? Jos. Just gone! Azz/ful ghost! Gran’mother’s bones. (Shrieks.) SALLIE. Bite of red dog—swallow live frog—ride a nizht- mearel ; Prince. Good Lord—what nex’? SaM AND Pete. Yas, what nex’? Jos. Marry Ceesar Cash, I swear! Sam AND Pets. You lie! You’se got no sense. . Prince. Did de Ghost say dat? Jos. He did—he did! Stood right yar an’ made Sallie swear awful, an’ he’s gone now to dig up her gran’mother’s | bones. I’se a dead nigger boy if I stay’d yar! (Exit.) Prince. Good-by, Sailie Smoct! No gran’mcther’s bones fer me! (Zrit.) Sam. Cesar, yo’s stuck, sure enough. Gocd-by! (£ait.) Perr. I’s gwan ober to de corcrer. See ye some day, I hopes, Ceesar. (ELivit.) Camsar. (Sings or recites :) 5 l’se called Cesar Cash, an’ I’se got ce cash An’ dat’s w’at’s de matter, ch, Sallie! I cooked dat ghos’ just’ to help dis mash, An’ make de odder nigs scatter, oh, Sallie! SaLuie. (Sings or recites :) e If you’se got de eash, as mos’ folks say, Your bottom dollah just cast on Sallie; Dat ghes’ racket war a cute one to play, So make snakes and cotton fast to Sallie. (They lock arms and march around the stage delightedly.) (Curtain.) SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR, SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR ; oR, THE, LUCKY «THEFT. FOR THREE FEMALES. Characters :—Mrs. Jenxtns, niece to the late BeNJAMIN GREEN; AMANDA PooLe, Ais cousin ; PRUDENCE Nortu, cousin to Mrs. JENKINS. (Mrs. Jenkins seated sewing. Hnter CoustN PRUDENCE.) Coustn PrupENCE. (Seating herself.) La’ me, ’Lizabeth, T’ve hurried so I am all out of breath. I came to see if you had heard the news. Old Uncle Benjamin is dead. Mrs. JENKINS. Dead? Isit possible?’ Why, I saw him to church only last Sunday, and he seemed as well as usual. Coustn P. Yes, I know it; but) when Ann Brady, the woman who looks after his house went to call him this morn- ing, she got no answer, and goin’ in, she was horrified to find ‘him stark and stiff in his bed. She got the doctor there as soon as she could, but of course he couldn’t do nothin’, He said as how it was heart disease carried the old man off so suddint like, Mrs. J. Do tell! Well, I suppose that’s what we've all got to come to, sooner or later. Then, too, he was an old man, acd probably wouldn t have lived much longer, anyhow. _ Fortunately, he has no near kin to feel his loss, since Aunt _ Sarah died two years ago. We shall miss him very much, though. I wonder who he has left his property to? Have you heard said anything about it, Cousin Prudence? Cousin P. Why, didn’t you know there was a heavy _ mortgage on his place? Some investment he made a few _. years ago turned out badly, and he had to pledge his place to meet his debts. He has been very hard up since then. That old skinflint of a Deacon Taylor holds the mortgage, and: he has been threatening to fureclose any day, as uncle was a little behind with the interest. It would have been just like the old miser to deprive him of all he had and turn him out on the mercy of his relatives. It’s a mighty good thing he hasn’t lived to see that day, I guess. So now, the deacon will have an auction sale of everything the house contains, and will then rent or sell the place. We won’t be able to get hold of a thing, and I think it’s a burning shame, don’t ou? : : Mrs. J. Sakes alive! Ishould think so. T had no idea Uncle Benjamin was so hard up as all that. I had looked 80 THE DIME DIALOGUES. forward to having a little something from him, seein’ as how I am his nearest living relative, you being only his wife’s niece. But, how about that set of silver teaspoons? Them was Aunt Sarah’s own personal property. Certainly the deacon has no right to keep them. They belong rightly to me, and I must see about them right after the funeral! They are real solid silver, and 1 will be mighty proud to have ’em. I hope Ann has taken good care of them. Cousin P. (Indignantly.) Well, I must say, Cousin ’Liza- beth, you are pretty cool. If any one has those spoons, that person will be me/ Id like to know who hasa better right? Aunt Sarah was my own aunt, and she wasn't yours. Of course she meant to leave them to her branch of the family. I have always expected to have them. Mrs. J. (Spitefully.) Humph! So have I, for that matter, and I will have them, too. Coustn P. You won’t, no such thing, I tell you! Mrs. J. And I tell youIw7l/ So there! (They glare at each other. Door opens and enter’ AMANDA Poo.) Miss Poor. Why, what’s the matter with you two? You look mad enough to tear each other’s eyes out. I just~ stopped in to say that Cousin Benjamin’s funeral 1s to take place to-morrow, at noon. They have found enough ready money for the buryin’-expenses, which is a good thing, or it would have all come onto us, I suppose. But, I say, what are you two fightiug about? I thought you,was always sich good friends. Mrs. J. (Loftily.) We are not fighting, as you call it, Cousin Amanda. Weare merely discussing a matter of right and wrong. I leave it to you, as to whether I shouldn't have that set of silver teaspoons that belonged to Uncle Benjamin's wife. Cousin Prudence lays claim to them, when she knoirs I ae the first right, and I call it a piece of downright injus- tice, I— Cousin P. Injustice, indeed! If I hav’n’ta better right — to my own aunt’s property than you, I should like to know it! Don’t you think I have, Amanda? - Miss P. (@rimly.) 1 am sorry to disappoint both of you, but I intend to have them spoons myself, so you better quit your quarrelin’. (The others look astonished.) I think I deserve them if any one does. Id like to know who took care of Aunt Sarah during her last illness, sitting up nights ee her, and nursing her as her own relations never thought of doing. _. Mrs. J. Well, why shouldn’t you have done so? You _ have never been tied down to home responsibilities. It was only your duty. SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR. 81 Miss P. Youdon’t say! If ’twas my duty, I didit. Asl was a-saying, just before she died, she tried to say somethin about them spoons, but she didn’t succeed. Of course, i knew she wanted to tell me to take them. I was generous enough to let Cousin Benjamin have the use of them since then, but I shall take them now. Cousin P._ I don’t believe she intended them for you. She wanted to tell you to see that Z got’em, I will wager my best bonnet. So, there now! Mrs. J. And Ill wager my last cent she would have directed them to be give to me. Miss P. You can dispute all day about it if you want to; that’s all the good it will do you. J am going to get posses- sion of them now. (Goes out and bangs the door.) Cousty P. I shall goand consult Lawyer Higgins at once. I'll see whether I am to be cheated out of my rightful dues. (Hxit.) Mrs. J. Between those t-vo, I may as well give up trying to have what honestly belongs to me. It is a burning shame, that it is, and I'l] never, never have anything more to do with those scheming women, if they are my cousins. I will wait and see how things turn-out, They may have the tables turned on them, after all. (Curtain falls.) Scene Il.—Same as before. (Enter Mrs. JENKINS.) Mrs. J. It just serves Amanda right. There she went over to take them spoons before poor uncle was even buried, and Prudence would really have gone to see Lawyer Higgins, if her shame hadn’t held her back, while I held my peace meanin’ to let the matter rest until the funeral was over. And now, to-day, before the final words was even spoken, at the grave, Amanda comes up to me and demands them spoons— said I had sneaked over and got them, for fear she would get hold of them first. I really believe she thinks I’ve got them. ° When [ told her that I didn’t think that was the proper time or place to talk of mercenary matters, she said she would have a settlement with me very soon. The idea of her daring to talk to me so! But, I wonder where the spoons can be? Cousin Prudence, fer all her grasping ways, wouldn’t be so underhanded as to take them away before the poor man was even in his grave. Yet they evidently aren’t in the house, or — Amanda would have found ’em. Old Ann is perfectly trustworthy, I am sure of that. ; - THE DIME DIALOGUES. (Enter Coustn PRUDENCE.) Coustn P. Say, ‘Lizabeth, I’ve come to the conclusion that I was rather hasty as to what I said abont the spoons, yesterday. I’ve no doubt but that you should have them. You must forgive me for acting so selfishly in the matter, but when I lose my temper I dun’t know half what I’m saying. So, take theron and welcome—that is, providin’ Amanda Poole hasn't already got them. Mrs. J. It’s very good of you to talk this way, I’m sure, Prudence. I too said more than I meant yesterday, and am glad enough to apologize for my urkind words. Now, to even matters, supposing we divide the spoons, you taking six and I the same. That is, providing they are to be found. Cousin P.. Found! Why, what do you mean? Mrs. J. Why, Amanda was really goin’ to take them, I guess, just to scare me into letting her have them. But, when she went to get them they were nowhere to befound. She questioned Ann, who told her that they were in the top drawer of the buream in the spare room. Leastways that was where they was always kept, excepting the three she kept down stairs for her master’s use. Further seareh proved fruit- Jess, so Amanda at once surmised J had taken them, and she almost made a scene at the buryin’ ground. Didn't she say anything to you? Cousin P. J} didn’t give her achance. I saw her a-coming toward me, looking as mad as a hornet, so 1 slipped away- What must the neighbors have thought of her? , Mrs. J. I don’t know, I'm sure. I expect her in any minute, as she said she was going to havea settlement with me. Oh dear, I don’t want another row. I don’t know tut what we better let her keep them, after all. so as to have peace in the family. (Looks out the window.) There, she comes in the gate now! Oh, dear! I wish she hadn't come! (Enter Miss Poot.) Miss P. What do you think has become of those snoons, Cousin Elizabeth? They are gome—gone forever. I declare, it serves me just right, too, for disputin’so over them. I don’t see whatever possessed me to want them so bad that I would forfeit the good will of my own folks. All that fuss over some spoons that I had no right to, and didn’t deserve! I was a fool, so there! G Cousry P.. Never mind, Amanda; we were as hasty as you, so we may as well let bygones be bygones, But, what has become of the spoons? Mrs. J. Yes, dotellus. I cannot imagine what has hap- pened to them. . SPOONS AS AN INTERCESSOR. 83 Miss P. Well, you: know they was up-stairs in the top draw of the spare room bureau. ‘The draw was never locked, vecause the key had been lost for years. One day, about a month ago, Cousin Benjamin discovered a leak in the roof of the porch. He went to see Smith, the plumber, to have him come and fix it; but Smith was so busy, he said as how he wouldn’t be able to ’tend to it for several days. He said, however, that there was a fellow around town asking for work, who professed to be a plumber, and had his tools with him, and that he might try him if he didn’t want to wait. So, Benjamin, he hunted the fellow up, and took him to the house. The easiest way to reach the roof was to get out of the spare room window. As the man said it would take him some time to do the job, Ben left, him and went out to do an errand. It was then the fellow seized an oppcertunity of sneaking Dack into the room, as he saw Ann was busy in the yard with ber clothes. On looking around to see what he could lay his hands on, he must have found the spoons, and pocketing them, have gone back to his work. When he finisbed, he went down-stairs; Cousin Ben paid him, and be left. He disappeared that very day, they say, so it’s too late now to find any trace of him. But there’s one consolation: he didn’t get them a//, for Ann had three of them down-stairs for Ben’s use, and here they are. (Draws them from her gocket and hands to Mrs. J.) I feel.as if I never wanted to see them again. You can do what you please with them. Mrs. J. How fortunate there should be just three of ’em. Now, we can each have one to keep, not only as a keepsake, but as a reminder of this unpleasant little affair. I guess this will teach us a‘l not to be so greedy in the future. I know it has taught mea lesson. Ain't you both of my mind? Boru. Yes, indeed we are! Cousrn P. (Laughing.) I declare, that fellow didn’t know what a good turn he was doin’ us wh'n he stole them spoons. We might have been fighting over them yet. Why, it was enough to make poor Aunt Sarah rise out of her grave, to see her folks goin’ on so, and all about a set of silver teaspoons, — too. She was such a peace-loving soul, was Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Benjamin too, for that matter. T’ll never do so agaia as long as [ live, and here’s my hand onto it. Oruers. Norl;norl. (Z'hey all clasp hands.) (Curtain falls.) THE DIME DIALOGUES. HOW WIGGINS WAS CURED; OR, THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS. Characters: — Mr. Wicarns, Ropert Wiaearns, Martin Jackson, Tony Barrows. Tue ScEnE represents a small and carpetless room. The only Surniture it contains being a tuble and two chairs. A curtain at the back of the stage is supposed to conceal a bed. (Enter Wiaarns, preceded by Tony, who carries a lighted candle, which he places on the table.) Tony. This is the best we can do for you, Mr. Wiggins, and, as you desired it, the least. expensive room we have. But, isn’t it something uncommon for you to be hiring lodg- ings? Seems to me you're getting extravagant as you grow older, paying out half a dollar for one night’s lodging. You don’t look so close at money befcre parting with it as you did when I hired out to you in Hayseed Village some years ago. Well, that was some way back. I suppose you don’t remem- » ber me? : Wiaerns. I don’t seem to call you to mind. But I’ve had so many hired hands, men and boys, off and on, that I can't be expected to remember ’em all. Still, I think it is quite a compliment to think you remember me, if I don’t recognize you. Well, perhaps [ hadn’t ought to say it, but my hired men always had good cause to remember me. T. Right you are there, Mr. Wiggins, for I couldn’t forget ou. _ W. Don’t say much more, or I shall feel too flattered. Now, perhaps, if you were to tell me your name, I might re- member you better. T. My name used to be Tony Barrows, when I lived with you, and I haven’t got married and changed it since then. W. Why, bless my heart alive! Can this be my old friend Tony? I don’t wonder I did not recognize you at first. You're some stouter than when we parted. T. That’s because I get more to eat than when I lived with you. And I was just a-thinking how you must have changed to be so lavish with spending fifty cents for one night’s lodging. The morning I left you to seek another plave, you were to pay me $9.99, and when you. gave mea ten dollar bill, you wanted the change-—although you might have let me keep the odd cent for luck—and you apologized HOW WIGGINS WAS OURED. _ for not asking me to stop to breakfast, as ‘‘ provisions were so high, and it took sucha heap of money to provide for ~ your family.” _ W. Well, you might have stayed to breakfast, because _ you kad money to pay for it, you know. I have always had _ to-be saving and economical. If 1 did seem to you a leetle close in those days, I hope you don’t hold any malice against me on that account, do you? : T. I don’t ever bear any malice, and if you’ve outgrown _ your closeness Iam glad of it. Such a change will be bettcr _ for poor folks. W. Spoken like a true-hearted friend, Tony, for I feel sure we shall be good friends. I’m powerful glad to have _ met you here, ’cause it always does my heart good to meet | and greet old friends like you. Now, Tony, seeing you and | _ were such good friends in the good old days, couldn’t you— _ just for friendship’s sake—get the landlord to take a leetle Icss _ for my lodging? ; ‘ T. “I couldn’t think of letting him know that any friends } of mine would ask such a thing. “Folks who come here are ' not in the habit of asking me to beat down the boss’s prices. Sometimes they give me a “tip” for my attention to their - wants. But you didn’t tell me how you came to be willing to _ lay out the awful sum of fifty cents? : W. I wasn’t willing, but I couldn’t help myself, and it’s like tearing soul and body apart that 1 have to do it. I came up to the city to collect some money, and | heard that Jim _ Prodder was up here, too, and I’ve been racing after him until I missed the last train. You see, Jim borrowed two | cents of me to buy a postage stamp, and I thought if 1 could run against him, he might pay- me; but, I didn’t find — him. : T. Fifty cents isa good deal to pay for the sake of trying | to get two cents. _ W. . Itis fearfully awful. I shall have to economize in - some of my expenses, to make up for this terrible outlay. - Now, Tony, J must say I think your boss is awful steep if his prices. It is getting to be quite late; and after I have gone to bed and- got asleep, how can J enjoy what I've paid tor? ; T. That is thelookout for ycu and the boss. I know you - couldn’t Aire me to sleep in this room. No money would _ induce me to do so. Don't you go to worrying and fretting _ about not getting your moncy’s worth, or losing the sight of _ the beauty and luxuriousness of this room, while you're in _ the land of dreams. You won't get much sleep in this room, - now you just mark my words. : eS WwW. y, what’s the matter with the room? Is it damp? - Does it leak? Are there rats in it? Geer &8 THE DIME DIALOGUES. T. There are far worse things in the world than damp- ness and leaks and rats. W. The thought of the steep pay for the room, maybe? I should think that would be enough to drive sleep from any- body's eyes. It would keep me awake if I wasn’t so awful sleepy. Ts : I don’t like to say too much to discourage you or make you feel timid and nervous like. And if folks do say this room is haunted, that don’t really make itso. Suppose a man who went into this room at nine o'clock, with kis hair raven black, should rush down-stairs, an hour afterward, with his ‘ hair as white as snow, calling out that he’d seen spocks and ghosts, that don’t go to prove he realy had seen such things. T can swear to the man and his shouting, aud fright, and the change of color in his Lair, but I can’t swear to the spooks, so long as I didn’t see ‘em. Still, I shouldn't want to stay in this room over night, for it would seem like temptizn’ of the spirits. But, while ?m talking Im keeping you up, for you said, just now, that you were awful sleepy. W. I don’t feel quité so very awful sleepy asI did. I guess I shall sit up all night so I can catch the first train out and get home in time for breakfast. Besides, I don’t think it is very healthy to sleep in strange beds. Can’t you stay with me, Tony? We'll talk about the gocd old times when ou worked for me. ss T. That would be impossible. I’ve got to sit up in the counting-room in case other lodgers come. I never like to talk about disagreeable times; it was bad enough to have had to live through them without bringing them up again. I must go, now, for I’ve stayed too long as it is. Gocd-night, and pleasant dreams to you, Mr. Wiggins. I guess you'll get the worth of your fifty cents to-night. (H2ait.) W. Pleasant dreams, indeed! A good-night forsooth. Roast a man over red hot coals, and then ask him if the weather's cool enough to suit him? Present a pistol point blank in his face, and then request him to look as pleasant as ‘possible. Condemn a man to be banged by the neck until he is dead, and immediately after hope he will have a gocd time.’ Why couldn’t Tony have kept his remarks concerning ghosts and spooks to himself? And | used to laugh at such things as childish folly. Well, ’'m not going to beliéve in such tomfoolery, and to prove thal I’m zot afeard of spirits, I shall just sit up in this chair all night; and if there should — happen to be any such things, I should tell them to go about | their business, I shall just tell ’em I’ve paid fifty cents to ~ occupy this room alone, ang they have no right to disturb me. I wonder if this candle will hold out till morning? The very — idea of its going out and leaving me in the dark sets my flesh all of acreep. I wish I could find something to read to keep | HOW WIGGINS WAS CURED. | meawake. Perhaps I can find something in this table _ drawer. (Opens it and takes out @ piece of writing paper.) That’s all; it isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. Won- | der who left it here, and what the writing is? Vl just read -itand see. (Reads:} ‘‘My last night on carth. A. pistol- shot, and then life will be over and done with. It is said that _ asuicide cannot remain quietly in his grave, but must wander _ upand down the earth. Be it so; [ have been hunted in life, * let me haunt human beings when I am dead. It may seem ' wicked to carry revengeful feelings beyond the grave, but so it shall be with me.” (A groan heard outside) Mercy on ust What can be the meaning of that? I believe Tony was right, and that the ghosts are coming. I had better make myself scarce somewhere. (Runs to the curtains and hides behind = them, occasionally putting his head outside.) (Enter Ropert and Marttn, enveloped in white sheets, and with their faces powdered or floured. } Rosert. It is a fearful doom imposed on us, brother spirit, to have to revisit this world again, and wander up and _ down the earth; no peace, no rest, naught but pain and _ misery. Martin. And the greatest misery of it, is that if will never end. R. I know that we cannot end it; but, from another spirit ¥ have learned that we ean be at rest by influencing some mortal to do a good and generous deed to some other creature, W. (Aside.) Seems to me I would be wiiling to do that to get rid of these spooks. M. And cau you do it? R. Ican; but try listen to a short story, which will ex- plain matters more clearly. There was once aman named Wiggins. | W. (Aside.y) I wonderif that means me? But, there are - hundreds of Wigginses besides me, but it’s kind of singular for all that. R. He had the character of being a hard-handed, close- fisted and mean skinflint. W. (Aside) That certainly can’t mean me, for everybody ' knows full well that I am exactly the reverse of alk __ that. : M. That’sa pretty tough character to give any one; but, go on. ; R. It seems where one might be loved for his generosity, instead of hated for miserliness, one would choose the former, but this man, Wiggins, was not of that opinion. To go on, _ he had a son named Robert. ; : W. (Aside) How very singular! 2 had a boy of that. 88 THE DIME DIALOGUES. name—poor, poor fellow, dead and gone now, but, as the world is full of Wigginses, there may have been numerous Robert Wigginses besides my lad. R. This ‘boy was deprived of love, of home comforts, of money, of pleasure, and almost everything that goes to make boyhood happy. That father, instead of striving to make his son love him, did all he could to cause hate to take the place of affection. Boys have feelings as well as men; and, some- times, that feeling gets beyond control, and lads do what they should not, and what they are often sorry for afterward. One day the father flogged the boy for an act for which the latter was in no way to ‘blame. Maddened by feelings of the injus- tice done him, and smarting from bodily pain, the boy left the house and shipped for a foreign voyage. W. (Aside.) My boy Robert did that. I begin to see how cruel I was to him. : R. It was wrong for him to do so; but, at that time, he | was not really himself. : M. I think he had sufficient cause for leaving home as he did, for the provocation was very great. zt R. Yes, but he should have kept his temper under control and have borne the abuse, because the man was his father. The young fellow sent a note just before he left port, to his — father, stating on what ship he had sailed, and then went forth ] to seek his fortune in the great wide world. The vessel was — wrecked at sea, some few of the passengers and the crew were picked up by a passing vessel. The names of those saved were printed in the papers, but the name of Robert Wiggins was not among them. M. A sad fate to find an ocean grave. R. But a deserved one for the lad; he was well. punished for his act of folly. ; M. But, how did you become acquainted with all these — circumstances? R. From the plainest of all reasons. Simply because I was Robert Wiggins! d W. (Aside.) The ghost of my poor ill-used boy! How 14 ; wish he was with me, in the flesh, for then he might make me — a better, wiser and more generous man. 4 : You seem to possess a very forgiving disposition Al- | though you have the right and proper sort of spirit, still the — general disposition of spirits would be to go and haunt the old __ man to the edge of despair. ve (Aside.) And it would be no more than serving me — right; still, I hope he won't do so. r ‘R. | There are better ways than that. I am going to my : father, and shall beg his forgiveness, and then I shall have — more rest. 4 W. (Aséde.) It’s a terrible thing for me to do, but ’m — he us HOW WIGGINS WAS CURED. 89 going to do it. Such a kind, good, generous and forgiving ghost can do me no harm. = R. Let us start at-once. Will you accompany me? W. (Comes from behind the curtains and kneels at ROBERT’S feet.) It is not your place to ask forgiveness of me; it is mine to beg it of you. Would you could return to me in life, and be a comfort to mein my old age. I would strive, with you to help me, to be as good in the future as I] have been hard and unfeeling in the past. I should then have some one to care for, to take an interest in and draw me out of my hard shell. But, I know that to be impossible, for you have been in your ocean grave many along year, But, if I cannot have you in life, I can still turn over the new life, can I not? : R. Certainly. But, suppose your son had not perished at sea? : W.. That is not a possible case; his name was not among those rescued. R. Yet, he might not have shipped under his own name, He may have been knocking round the world,with the only idea of getting home at last. W. Ah, that would be too good news to be true. It seems to me I would give all 1 am worth to have such a thing hap- pen. R. (Throwing off his sheet, and wiping the whiting off his face.) Rise up, father! All I have told you is true. Robert is before you in the flesh. But, supposing I had come back poor in pocket? W. (Arising.) So much the better—so much the better; for I have enough for both of us. Oh, Robert, Robert! To haye you with me once again, makes my old heart lighter, and I feel twenty years younger. R. My means are ample, so I can help you, now that I am a man, as I once hindered you when I wasa boy. This gen- tleman here is my friend Martin Jackson; he has been my constant companion for years; he has saved me from going cn the wrong rcad- many and many a time, and he it was who helped me to concoct this little plot to bring about a recon- ciliation between us. W. And for that plot [ thank you a thousand times. M.. You're quite welcome, I assure you, sir. (Throws off his disguise.) W. I feel so happy I do believe I could dance a Highland fling on the top of Bunker Hill monument. (Dances up and down the stage.) (Enter Tony ) Tony. What in the name of the seven plagues of Egypt is the matter with you, Mr. Wiggins? Have you gone crazy, or taken leave of your senses? : : W. It’s b&ause I’m bubbling over with happiness. You y 90 THE DIME DIALOGUES. couldn’t find a good use for a five-dollar bill, could you, Tony? (Gives him one.) » T. Oh, this proves that you can’t be in your right mind. W. I believe this plot was some of your star ting. Come, confess to the truth, Tony! T. (Innocently.) Well, I should smile. W. Smile, indeed! Tshould jaugh right out! T. Well, you see, Mr. Wiggins, your son and his friend were down-stairs when you applied for a room, and we kind of hatched up the little drama betwixt us. A drama that will have one of the best endings. By the way, Tony, how about the room being haunted? T. Ishould snicker! I didn’t say it was. I said it was said‘to be. I ee spirits have been seen here, but they were in bottles and glasses. W. And the man whose hair changed from black to white so suddenly? T. His hair was white, but he wore a black wig, and he must have taken the wig off when he went to bed and forgot to put it on again when he rushed down-stairs. W. And this piece of paper I found in the table drawer? (Shows it.) T. You see, there used to be a writer feller who had this room, and, maybe, that was a part of one of his stories. But, T hope you don’t bear any malice for what i have done. W. No indeed, Tony! You ought to be rewarced. The spirits have put a new spirit into me. Out of evil cometh good, sometimes. M. I think the end justified the mcans. R. ‘ All’s well that ends well.’ T. Mr. Wiggins, ycur son ordered a little supper to be eaten in case a reconciliation was effected. The supper is now ready, and if you don’t come soon, it will be cold. _ W. Allright, we can continue our congratulations at the table, T. I’m awful glad the little play has ended so happily; it only needs two things to make it complete, And what are those, Tony? T. Red fire and Chinese crackers! (Eixeunt.) THE END. STANDARD DIME DIALOGUES: Tor School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments, Nos. 1 to35 inclusive, 15 to°5 Popular Dialogues and Dramas in each book, Each volume 100 12mo pages, sent post-paid, on receipt of price, ten cents, Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors with or without the furniture cf a rtage, and suited to SCHOL- ARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every +e, both male anid alo. It ir to assumo that ne other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas, of wit, pathos, humor aud sentiment, DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 1. Meeting of the Muses. For nine young ladies. |Hobnobbing. For fives eakers, Baiting a Live Englishman. For tree boys, ‘The Secret of Success. for three speakers, Tasso’s Coronation. For male and female. Y America. ‘Three males and two Jemunlay- Fashion. For two ladies. Se) 8 Destiny. Four females, one my The Rehearsal. . For six boys. c ‘of the Duel. For three male spi al Which will you Choose? For two boys. Dogmatism. For three male speakers, The Queen of May. For two little girls. 'The Ignorant Confounded. Fortwo boys. The Tea-Party. For four ladies. The Fast Young Min. Fortwo males, Three Scenes in Wedded Life. Maleandfemale./The Year’s Reckoning. 12 females and 1 male, Mrs, Sniffles’ Confession, For male aud female, |The Village with One Gentleman, Yor eight fos The Mission of the Spirits. Five young ladies, | males sud one male, DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 2. The Genius of Liberty, 2 males and 1 female, How to Write ¢ * Popular? Stories. Two males, Cinderellag or, Th Little Glass Slipper. » Old, For two males, Tvoing Good and S. Bad. Several characters.| A S ast. For two males. Tie Golden Rule. | ‘Two males and two females.|The G two males, The Gift of the Fairy Queen. Several females. |Tho Three Men of Science. For four males. Tak niaand Done For. Fortwo characters. |The Old Lady’s Will. For four males, The Country Aunt’s Vis t to the City. Wor sev-|The Little Phi] sephers. For two li:tle girls. eral characters. Wow to Find an Heir. For five u ales. The Two Romans. For two males, The Virtues. For six young lidics, 1 -ying the Characters. Fo: threo males, A Connubial Eclogue. - The Happy Family. For several ‘ani ..als.? The Public meeting. Fivemales and onefemalo, The Rainbow. For several characters. The English Traveler. For two males. DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 3, on. Yor an entire school. ‘he Genteel Cook. For two males. een For ten females, Masterpiece. For two males and two fema'es, Kee ing Bad Company. A Fure>, Fcrfiv ra The Two Romans, For two males. Courting Under Difficulties. 2 males, 1 fen The Same. Secondscene. Fortwo males. National Representatives. A Burlesque, 4 ae Showing the White Feather. 4 males, 1 femele. Escaping the Draft. For numerous males, The Battle Call, A Recitative, For one ani. DIME DIALOGUES, NO, The Frost King. For ten or more persons, The Stubb'etown ‘Volunteer. 2 males, 1 female. mearehig i » Life, « ‘lure males and two females. | A Scene from “ Paul Pry.” For four inales. Faith, Hope and Charity. For three little girls.|V'i.e Charms, For three males and one female, Dard, and Joun, For t tivo males and one female.| Bee, Clock and Broom. For three little gi he May. A Floral Fancy. For six litt e girls. Che Ticht Way. AColloquy. For two Loys, The Enchanted Princecs. 2 males,several females I ays. For two males. Fonor to Whom Honor is Due. 7 inales, 1 female eee s. A Colloquy. For twoher The Gentle Client. Forseveral males, one female eis ; * Benevolence. Lor four uiaas, Phrenology. A Discussion, For twenty males, (The writes Svor two males, DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 5. The Three Guesses. For school or parlor. Putting ae Airy A Colloqny. Fer two males. entiment. A ‘‘ Three Persons’? Fa ce. ° The Straight M rk. Forseveral buys. Behind the Curtain. For males and females, {Two ideas of Life. A Colloquy. For ten girls. The Eta Pi Society. Five boys and a tencher, HEextract from Marino Faliero. Examinatior Day, Forseveril female charactera, Ma-try-Money. An Ac'ing Charade. Trading in “ Traps » Forseveral males, The Six Virtues, For:ix voung ladies. ‘The School Boys’ Tribunal. |The Irishman at Home. For tivo males, A Loose Tongue. Seversl males ond females, |Fashionable Requirements. For three girls. How Not to Get an Answer. For two females. Ja Bevy of I’s (Eyes). For eight orless eee DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 6. The Way They Kept aSecret. Male and females,|The Two Counselors. For three raclee Tha Poet under Difficulties. For five males, The Votaries of Folly. For a number of females, William Tell. Fer a whole sehool. Aunt Betsy’s | Beaux. Four females and two males. Woman’s Rights. Seven femalesand two males.|The Libel Suit, Fortwo females and one male, A!Lis not Gold that Glitters. Male and females.|Santa Claus. For a number of bovs. . The Generous Jew. Forsix males, Shristmas Fairies. For several little girlas Shopping, For three males ad ono female, Vhe Three Ringss For twe miles, : Dime School Series—Dialogues, ss DIME DIALOGUES No, 7. The two beggars. For fourteen females. Two views of life. Colloquy. For two femsles ‘The earth-child in fairy-laud. For girls. The rights of music. For two fema'es, Twenty years hence. ‘Two females, one male. A hopeless case. A queryin verse. Twogirls, ‘The way to Windham. For two males. The would-be school-teacher. For two males. Woman. A poetic prssage at words. Two boys, | C For three males. The ’Ologies. A Colloquy. For two males. Eig How to get rid of a bore. Forseveral boys, gnity. Acolloguy, For two boys. Boarding-school. ‘Two males and two females, Grief two expensive. Lor two males. Plea for the pledge. for two males, Hainlet and the ghost. For two persons. The ills of dram-drinking. For three boys. Little red riding hood. For two teinales. True pride. A colloquy. -For two feinales, New application of an old rule, Boys and girls. The two lecturers. Fur numerous males, Colored cousins, A colloquy. For twe males. DIME DIALOGUES No. 8. The fairy School. For a number of girls. Getting a photograph. Males and fem The enrolling officer. Three girls and two boys. | The society for g- neral improvement. The base ballenthusiast. For three boyse A nobleman in disguise. Three girls, six boys. The girl of the period. For three girls, Great expectation~. For two boys. The fowl rebellion. ‘Two males and one female. | Playing schuol. Five females and four males. Slow but sure. Several males and two femal Clothes for the heathen, One male, one female, Caudle’s velocipede. One male and one female, | A hard case. For three bos. The figures. For several small children. | Ghosts. for ten females and one male. The trial of Peter Sloper. For seven boys. , DIME DIALOGU LS No. 9. Advertising for help. For a number of females. | The law of human kindness, For two females. America to England, greeting. F r two boys. Spoiled children. For a mixed school, The old and the new, Four females one male, | Brutus and Cassius. Choice of trades. For twelve litile boys. Coriolanus and Aufidius. . The lap-dog. For two females. The new scholar, For a number of g'rls. The victim. For four females and one mate. The self-made man. For three males. The duelist, For two b The May queen (No. 2.) For a school. The true philosophy. For females and males, Mrs. Lackland’s economy. 4 boys and 8 girls. govd education, For two fuimales, Should women be given the ballot? For boys. DIME DIALOGUES No. 10. Mrs. Mark Twain’s shoe. Oneinale, onefemale. | The rehearsal. Fora school. The old flag. School festival. For three boys. | The true way. For three boys and one girl. The court of folly. For many girls. A practical life lesson. For three girls. Great lives. For six boys and six girls, The monk and the soldier, For two boys. Scandal. For numerous males and females, 1776-1876, School festival. For two girls. The light of love. For two boys. Lord Dundrenry’s Visit. 2 males and 2 females, The flower children. For twelve girls. Witches in the cream. For 3 girls and 3 boys. The deaf uncle. For three boys. Frenchman. Charade, Numerous characters, A discussion, For two boys. DIME DIALOGUES No, 11, ee ppearagtes are very deceitful. For six boys. Fashionable dissipation. For two little girls. ‘The conundrum fam ly, For male and female. A school charade, For two boys and two girls. Curing Betsy. Three males and four females. Jean Ingelow’s “‘ Songs of Seven.” Seven girls, Jack and the beanstalk. For five characters. A debate. For four boys. The way to do it and not to doit. 3 femules. Ragged Dick’s lesson. For three boys. How to become healthy, ete. Male and female. School charade, with tableau. The only true life. For two girls, | A very questionable story. For tw. boys. Classic colloquies. For two boys, A-sell. For thr e males, 3. Gustavus Vasa and Cristiern, The real geatleman. For two boys. IL. ‘Yamerlane and Bajazet. DIME DIALOGUES NO. 12. Yankee assnrance, For severa characters, A fainily not to pattern after. Ten characters. Boarders wanted. For several characters. How to man-age. An acting charade. When I was young. For two girls, The vacation ecapade. Four noys and teacher. The most precious heritage. For two boys. That naughty boy. Three females and a male, The double cure, Two inales and four feinales. Mad-cap. An acting charade. The flower-garden fairies, For five little girl All is not gold that glitters. Acting proverb. Jemima’s novel. Three males and two females. | Sic transit gloria mundi, Acting charade. Beware of the widows, Fo. three girls DIME DIALOGUES NO. 18. Two o’clock in the morning. For three males, | Worth, notwea'th. For four boys and a teacher, _ Anindignation meeting. For several females. | No such word as fail. For several mates. Before and behind thescenes. Several charact’s. | The sleeping beauty. For a schoo’. ‘The noblest boy. A number of boys and teacher, | An innocent intrigue. Twomales anda female, Blue Beard. A dress piece. For girls and boys. | Old Nably, the fortune-teller. For three girls, Not so bad as it seems. For several characters. Boy-talk, For several little bovs. Accurbstone moral. For two malesynd female. | Mother isdead. For several little girls. Sense vs. sentiment. For parlorand exhibition. | A practical illustration, For two boys and girl, ean Ah oleh Dime School Series=Dialogues. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 20. The wrong man, Three males and three females Afternoon calis. For two little girls. Ned’s present. For four boys. Judge not. For teacher and several scholars. Tellingdreams. For four little folks. Saved by love. For two boys. Mistaken identity. Two males and three femal s. Couldn’t read English. For 3 males aud 1 iemale. A little Vesuvius. For six little girls, **Sold.”? For three boys. Anair castle. For five males and three females. City manners and country hearts. For turee girls and one boy. The silly dispute. For two girls and teacher. Not one there! For four male charactera. Foot-print. For numerous character . Keeping boarders. Two females and three males, A cure jor good. One lady and two gentlemen, The credulous wise-acre. For two males. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 21. A successful donation party. Out of debt out of danger. three females. Little Red Riding Hood. For two children, How she made him propose. A duet, The house on the hill For four females, Evidence enough. For two males, Worth and wealth. For four females, Waterfall. - For several, For several, For three males and )Mark Hastings return. For four males. Cind.rella. For several children. Too much for Aunt Matilda, For three females, Wit against wie. Three females and one uules A sudden recovery. For three males. Thedouble stratagem, For four females, Counting chickens before they were hatched, For four males. DIME DIALOGUES, No, 22, The Dark Cupid; or, the mistakes of a morning. For three zentlemeu and two ladies, That Ne’er-do-well; or, @ brother’s lesson, For two males and two females, High art; or the new mania. Strange adveutures. For two boys. The king’s supper. For four girls. A practical exemplification, Fortwo boys. Monsieur Thies in America; or, Yankee vs. Frenchman. For four boys. Doxy’s diplomacy. For two girls. ladies aud one gentleman, DIME DIALO Rhoda Hunt's remedy. For 3fe sales, 1 male. Hans Schinidt’s recommend. For two males, Cheery and Grumble. For two l.ttle bovs. Tie phantom doughnuts. For six females. Does it pay? For six males, Coinpiny manners and home impoliteness. twe males, two females and two children. The gladdays. For two little boys. Unfortunate Mr. Brown. For 1 male, 6 females. Tho real cost. For two girls. For 3 females and ‘ incident als.’ A Frenchman; or, the ontwitted aunt, For two Citania’s banquet. Fer a number of girls. joys will be boys. Fortwo boys and one girl, Arainy day; or, the sshool-girl philosophers, For three young ladies. God is love. For a number of scholars, The way he managed. For 2 males, 2 females, Fandango. Various characters, white ad other wise. The little doctor. Fortwo tiny girls. A sweet revenge. For four boys. A May day. For three litile gir s. From the sublime tothe ridicilous. For14 males. Heart not face. For five boys, GUES, No. 23. A bear garden. For three males, two females, The busy bees. For four | ttle girls. Checkmate. For numerous « bayactera, School-time. For two little girls Death scene. 2 principal characters and adjuncts. Dross and gold. Several characters, male and fe- male, Confeand Mille-. For three males, two females, Ignesance vs. justice. Foreleven males. Pedants all. For four females. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 24. The goddess of liberty. Fornine young ladies, / The three graces. For three little girls, The music director. For seven males, A strange secret. For three girls, An unjust man. For four males, The shop girl’s victory. 1 male, 3 females, The psychometiser. 2 gentlemen, 2 Indies. Mean is no word for it. For four ladies. Whimsical. A number of charact’s, both sexes, Blessed sse the peacemakers. Seven young girls. The six brave men. For six boys. Have you heard the news? ‘The true queen, Two young girls. 4.slight mistake. 4 males, 1 female, and sev+ eral auxiliaries. Lazy and busy. Ten little fellows, The old and young. 1 gentleman, 1 little girl. That postal card. 3 ladies and 1 gentleman. Mother Goose and her household. A whole sehool fancy dress dialo,ue and travestie. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 25. The societies of the delectables and las miser- ables. For two ladies and two gentlemen, ‘What each would have. 6 little boys & teacher, Sun -hine through the clouds, For four ladies, The friend in need. For four males, The hours. For twelve litsle girls. In doors and out. For five little boys, Dingbats. For one male and four females, The pound of flesh. For three boys. Beware of the peddlers. 7 mixed characters, ood words. For a number of boys. A friend. Fora number of littie girls. {3F The above books are sold by Newsdealers dé ress, on receipt of price, 10 cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, P. The true use of wealth. For a whole school, Gamester. For numerous characters, Put yourself in his place. For two boys. Little wise heads. For four little girls. The regenerators, Tor five bovs, Crabtree’s wooing. Several characters. Integrity the basis of all success. Two males. A crooked way made straight, One gentlaman and one Jady. How to “break in’? young hearts, Two ladies and one gentleman, everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any ublishers, 98 William &t.,.N. Ye Dime School Series—Dialogues. DIME DIALOGUES No. 26. Poor cousins, Three ladies and two gentlemen. |The lesson of mercy. Two very small girls, Mountains and mole-hills, Six ladies and several |Practice what you preach. Four ladies, spectators. Politician. Numerous characters, A test that didnot fail, Six bos, . cuivassing agent. ‘Two males and twe Two ways of seeing things. Two little girls, Don’t count your chickens before they are |Gru "wo males. hatched. Four lad nd a b A siight scare. Three females and one male All is fairi: love and war. @ s, 2 gentlemen. | Kibo lsunshine. Three young ladies, How unele Josh got rid acy. Two mules, | How Jim Peters died. Iwo males with several transformations. DIME DIALOGUES No. 27. Patsey O’Dowd’s campaign. For three males]The street girl’s good angel. For two ladies and and one female. two little girls. inferences not always just. CERES & a ungrate iul little nigger.”? For two males. boys. t 0 e For three little girls. Discontented Annie. For several girls. neces are 3 For several ladiea A double surprise. Four males and one femule. ntleman. What was it? For five ladies, Love's protest. For two little girls. What will cure them! For a lady and two boys.| An entorced cu Wor several characters, Independent. For uumerous characters. Those who preac! ‘h and those who perform, For Each season the best. For four boys. three mi te eas Tried and found wanting. For several males, JA gentle conquest. For two young girls. A boy’s plot, For several characters. { DIME DIALOGUES No. 28. A test that told. For six young iadies and two|No room for the done. For three little boys. gentlemen. Arm-chair. For numerous chnracters. Organizing a debating society. For foar boys. _ | Measure for meusure, For four gir The awakening, For four litle giris. Saved by a dream. For two ma és and twe, The rebuke proper, For 3 gentlemen, 2 ladies. fem: Exorcising an evil spirit. For six ladies. An iifallinle sign, For four boys. Both sides of the fence. For four males. A good use for noney. For six little girls. ‘The spirits of the wood. For two troupes of girls. 'An agreeable profession. For several characters, DIME DIALOGUES No. 29. Who shail have the di-tionary? Wor six typical (oat Simon. For four little bovs. male characters and two females The red light. For four males, two females, The test of bravery, For four boys and teacher. |The sweetest thought. For four little girls. Fortune’s wheel. | For feur male characters. I he inhuman monster. 6 ladies, 1 gentheman, The little esthetes, For six little girls. Three little fools. For four smal] bovs. The yes and no ofsmoke. For three little boys. Be ware of the dog! For three ladies and thr « No references. Six gentlemen and three ladie ec * divlgers.”” An amazing good boy. One male, one female, | Joe Hunt’s hunt. For two boys and two girls, What a visitationdid. For several ladies. |Rugs. Jor six males, DIME DIALOGUES No. 30. " Envistble heroes, For five young Indes. ie and dog. For two little ones. A ‘“eolured” lecture. For four inales. The wsthete cured. For 2 Judies and 3 gentiewen _ Wishes. For five little boys. jJim Broderick’s lesson, For two boys, Look at home. For three little girls, } The other side of the story. For five females. Fisherman’s luck. For two males and three/The ‘est that told. For five males. females. |Wooing by proxy. For three gentlemen and Why he didn’t hire him. For several “ mae two ladies, acters.” |Learning fron evil, For five bovs. A fortunate mistike. For six young ladies, one/‘Ihe teacher’s ruse, For ten boys and three little girl aud a b girls. An alphabetical mei nagerie. For a whole school.|Colloquy of nations, For ace personntors, The higher education. For eight boys. Additional personations for * of Liberty? The viciesitudes of a milliner. Vor six females, A scenic piece in Disjogdes 4. {3 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any peilross, on receipt o price, 10 cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Yo, Dime School Series=Dialogues, DIME DIALOGUES No, 31. Barr’s boarders. For various characters. A lively aiternoon. For six males. A new mother hubburd. For six little girls, Bread on the waters. For four females. Forninst the scientists. For two mal Sloman’s angel. For two males and on What each would do. For s‘x little girls. Twenty dollars a lesson, For eleven males. Aunt Betsy’s ruse. For three females aid one male. The disconcerted supernaturalist. and audience “voi es.” Grandma Grumbleton’s protest. For « “ grand- ma” and several girl grandchildren. female. For one male Nothing like training. For a number of males, The bubble. For two little girls. Medicine for rheumatiz, For two “cullod pute sons,’” J hale book agent. For three males and one fe- male, The well taught lesson. A turn of the tide, female charact A true carpet-b For three females. Applied metaphy For six males. What Humphrey did, For tive males and three females. For five little boys. For three male aid three er. Se DIME DIALOGUES No, 32. A perseerted man. For various characters, Tvo curious for comfort, For two males and two females. Under false guise. children. A sure guide. For seven males. The eight little boys trom nonsense land. How they see the world. For five little girls. The doctor’s office. For several characters, male and female. Yoo much side show. For a number of boys. Row Mrs. Ponderous was paid. Vor four young ladies. For several females and DIME DIALO The wrong trunk. For several male characters and one female, Saucy Jack Lee. For 4 males and 4 females, The pretty preacher. For two young ladies. A contrast. For two little girls. Only Joe. For five lndies and one gentleman. The tables turned. for se males. Why did you doit? Fora school of little cbil. dren. She had him there. For one lady and one gen-' tleman. A report of the affair, For two gentlemen. It’s English you know. For three (or six) males and eight fema es. A much misunderstood man, one female. The glass man. For seven maies. Mra. Podterry’s views on educution, females ad several children, girls. How she managed him. For one male, one fe- male, and child. The oyster resurrection, For two ma females. A neighborly quarrel. For two males. Blessed are the pure in heart. For four females, What the boys knew of it. or a school—-all males For one male and For two les and two Poiywog versus Wolypog. For numerous citi zens, Tongue and temper. For two ladies. The flour of the family. For three ladies and one gentleman, Middleton’s mistake, For tive males. A valuable neighbor. For one lady and one boy, ‘The man of cheek, For two males. j pa Mrs. Blizzard at home, For man and wife. . Morgan’s money. For five males, The courtship of Miles Standish, For school festival. GUES No, 33. Mrs. Arnold's misconception. For two gentle men and three ladies. The year ’round. For twelve impersonators. Defending the castle. Wor 2 males and 2 feinales, A perfectly veracious man. For one male and one female, Sympathetic sympathy. For three males and two females. Ananias at home, For 1 male and 3 females. The man from Bangor, For one gentleman and three ladies. Cusabianca in two versions, For two boys, DIME DIALOGUES No, 34, A warm reception. For 2 males and 2 females, Supposings. For ten little girls. When I grow up to be a man. For six little ONS. Enforcing a moral, several females. laying big folks, For several children, Whit are little girls good for! For nine little For three or four males and girls. the bump-scientist’s reception in Clarionville | ‘enter. kor eight males, or seven males and one female. ‘More tian she bargained for, and one male, For three females DIME DIA’ OGUES No. 35, in the wrong house. For 2 males and Y females, The sham of it all. For 3 females and 1 male. The surest proof. For several males and one fe- male. Too much for Jones and Smith. For two mates, Naughty Boy Blue. For Mother Goose and sev- eral children. Oniy a working girl. For4 females and 2 males, How he got even with his enemy. ‘or 2 males. Mrs. Bigson’s victory. For 1 male and 1 female. The mysterious boarder. For three females and two males, The Muzwump sisters, For a number of fema\es, |Dolly Madison’s method. For twomalesand ong | female. |Miss Lighthead »n the country. For one male and one female |The crnel king. For seven little hoys. Shoddy and Wool. For 5 males and 6 females, |The best profession of all. For four litule girls | and one grown person. Florence Elton’s mistake. | two females, |The bewitched music-box. For two males and For two males, {3 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any sddress, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Willlgm St.) N. Ye STANDARD DIME SPEAKERS=50 to 80 Pieces in Each Volume, DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No, 1. Young America, Birthday of Washington Plea for the Maine law, Not on the battlefield, The Italian straggle, Independence, Our country, The equality of maa, A. Ward’s oration, Trae nationality, Our natal day, Solferino, Intelligence the basis of the war, [liberty, Charge of light brigade, Character of the Revo’n/ After the battle, ofthe war, |The glass railroad, The sawing-machine, |Case of Mr. Macbeth, True manhood, The mystery of life, ‘The ups and downs, The truly great, Prof, on phrenology, Annabel Lee, Washington’s name, Phe sailor boy’s syren, DIME NATIONAL Union and its results, Oar country’s future, The statesman’s labors, True immortality, Let the childless weep, Oar country’s glory, Union a household, Iadependence bell, The scholar’s dignity, * The cycles of progress, ‘A Chtistinas chant, Stability of Christianity, The true higher law, The one great need, The ship and the bird, America to the world, Love of country, Right of self-preserva- Our cause, [tion, A Kentuckian’s appeal, Kentucky steadfast, Timidity is treason, Thealarum, April 15th, 1861, The spirit of ’61, The precious heritage, Klebcyergosson the war Age bluntly considered, Early rising, ‘The wasp and the bee, Comic Gramuiar, No. Tn nota single man, A. Ward’s advice, Buzfaz on Pickwick, Romeo and Juliet, Happiness, Teeu:nseh’s speech, Territorial expansion, Martha Hopkins, The bashful man’s story The mattur-of-fact- man. Rich and poor, g the eclipse, Beauties of the law, Ge-lang! git up, The rats of lite, Creowning glory of U.S. Three fools, Washington, Our great inheritance, Eulogy on Heury Clay, The Trish element, Train’s speech, Christy’s speech, et me alone, Brigand-ier General, The draft, Union Square speeches, The Union, Our country’s call, The story of an oak tree, L-e-g on my leg, Pop, A rat Eulogium, How to bea fireman, The United States, 1.| Paff's ace’t of himself, Practical phreuology, Beautiful, Cabbage, Disagreeable pecple, What is a bachelor like? Karly retiring and ris’g,|J. Jeboom’s oration, A Dutch cure, The weather, | The heated term, Philosophy applied, | An old ballad, | DIME PATRIOTIC Pe iny wise, pound fool- frue cleanliness, — [ish, “Tn a just cause,” No peace with oppres- sion, A tale of a mouse, A thanksgiving sermon, dhe cost of riches, SPEAKER, No. Ohio, Oliver Hazard Perry, Our domain, Systems of belief, ne Indian chief, The independent farmer Mrs. Grammar’s ball, How the money comes, Future of the f shions, Loyalty to liberty, Great iives imperishable The prophecy for the y’r Uutinished problems, Honor to the dead, Immortality of patriots, Webster’s polit’l syste A vision in the forum, The press, Sat’d’y night’s enjoy’ts,| Woman’s rights, Right of the Governed, My ladder, Woman, mn “ne rebellion of 1861, visunion, 2. |Murder will ont, |Strive for she best, Eurly rising, Deeds of kindness, Gates of sleep, The bugle, A Hoodish gem, Purity of the struggle, jOld Be: utiful and trae, Our country first, last,) The worm of the still, and always, British influence. Defense of Jackson, National hatreds, Man and the Intinite, Language of the Eugie, hington, V The Deluge. SPEAKER,.No. 3. History of our flag, 'T. F, Meagher’s address, We owe to the Union, Last speech of Stephen A. Douglas, Lincoln’s message, Great Bell Roland, The New Year and the King Cotton, [Uaion, Battle anthem, The ends of peace, DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No. 4. A song of woe, Ward’s trip to Richm’d, arody, The mountebank, Compound interest, A sermon on the feet, Old dog Jock, The fishes’ toilet, Brian O’Linn, Crockett to office-seekers Who is my opponent? DIME ELOCUTIONIST, No. 5, Dogs, Funny folks, | SEC. I. Princreres op Truz Exunciation. Freedom the watchword Crisis of our nation, Duty of Christian pa- triots, Turkey Dan’s oration, A fearless plea, The onus of slavery, |A foreigner’s tribute, the little Z Catholic cathedral, The “ Speculators.” Political stump speech, Comic Graumar, No. 2p Farewell to the bottle, The cork leg, The smack in school, Slick’s definition of wifes T A Dutch sermon, Lecture on loeomotion, j Mrs.Caudle on Umbr’lia BEC. II. —Faults in enunciation ; how to avoid them. Special rules and observations. Tug Art oF Oratory.—Sherldan’s List of the Passions. Tranquillity, Cneerful- ness, Mirth ,Raillery, Buffoonery, Joy, Delight, Gravity, Inquiry, Attention, Modesty, Per- lexity, Pity, Grief, Melancholy, Despair, Fears Shame, Remorse, Courage, Boasting, Pride, Obstinacy, Authority, Commanding, Forbidding, Affirming, Denying, Difference, Agreeing, Exhorting, Judging, Approving, Ac- See Condemning, Teaching, Pardonivg, rguinz, Dismissing, Refusing, Granting, De- pendence, Veneration, Hope Desire, Love, Re- spect, Giving, Wonder, Admiration Gratitude, Curiosity, Persuasion, Tempting, Promising, Adectation, Sioth- Intoxication, Anger, etc, SEC. ITI, Tur Component ELEMENTS OF AN Oxation.—Rules of Composition as applied to Word and Phrases, v Precision. As applied to Sentences, viz.: Length of Sentence,Clearness, Unity,Strength. Figures of Speech; the Exordium, the Narra- tion, the Proposition, the Confirmation, the Refutation, the Peroration. SEC. IV, Representative Exerctses tn Prose AND Versk.— Transition; A Plea for the Ox; Falstaff’s Soliloquy on Honor; the Burial of Lincoln; the Call and Response; the Bayonet Charge; History of a Life; the Bugle; the Bells; Byron; Macbeth and the Dagger; Hamlet’s’ Soliloquy ; Oid Things ; Look Up- ward; King William Rufus; the Eye; an Essa onto Musik ; Discoveries of Galiieo. SEC, V. Onseavartons oF Goop AUTHORITIES Parity, Propriety. s 4 Ay Dime School Series—Speakers. DIME* HUMOROUS SPEAKER, No. 6. Devils, - Dow, Jr.’s lectures, _ £go and echo, Fashionable women, Fern thistles, Good-nature, Gottlieb Klebcyergoss, _ Sehlackenlichter’s snake Hosea Biglow’s opinions How the money goes, | Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of| July oration, If you mean no, say no. Jo Bows on leap year, Lay of the henpecked, Lot Skinner’s elegy, > Matrimony, rote to do. Old Caudle’s umbrella, jOld Grimes’s son, i“ Paddle your own ca- noe,” Parody on _ * Araby’s daughter,” , Poetry run mad, Right names, Scientitic lectures, he ager, The cockney, The codfish, Fate ofiSergeant Thin, The features’ quarre] Hamerican voodchuck, The harp of a thousand strings, The last of the sarpints, | The march to Moscow, | The mysterious guest, The pump, The sea-serpent, The secret, The shoemaker, The useful doctor, The waterfall, To the bachelors’ unio league, United States Presidenta Vagaries of popping the question, Whiat U wouldn't be, Yankee doodle Aladdin, Ze Moskeetures aes DIME STANDARD SPEAKER, No. 7. Woman’s claims, Authors of our liberty, The real ig aE The citizen’s Italy, ‘The mechanic, Nature & Natare’s God, /Little Jerry, the miller, The modern good, [sun,|The neck, Ossian’s address to the|Foggy thoughts, _ The world we live in, eritage, The power of an idea, | The two lives, | The beneficeace of the}l'he true scholar, Suffrage, Dream of the revelers, |HowCyrus laid the cable The prettiest hand, Paradoxical, Independence be?l—1777 |The ladies’ man, John Burns, Gettysburg, | Life, No sect in heaven, The idler, Miss Prade’s tea-party, ‘The uubetiever, Hon.J.M.Stubbs’ views on the situation, Hans Schwackheimer woman’s suffrage, All for a nomination, t [sea,| Be sure you are right, Old ocean, t Ib {Wishing, [sea, }Judges not infallible, 'Fauaticism, i Instability of successful! [erime, Agriculture, Ireland, [quer, The people always con- usic of labor, Prussia and Austria, The Blarney stone, The student of Bonn, 'The broken hou_ehold, DIME STUMP SPEAKER, No. 8. Tail-enders, [Baptiss, he value of money, Meteoric disquisition, on "The sea,tbe sea, the open|Be of good cheer, The starbangled spanner |Crabhed folks, [shrew, Stay where you belong, | Taming a maseuline|A Lay Sermon, - Life’s what you make Where’s my money ¢ eres from conscience,| it,| Farmers, feountry, {The true greatness of ou England & the Unior , Good-nature a blessing, | Sermon from hard-shell|* | America, [fallacy, Right of secession” a Life’s sunset, Human nature, Lawyers, Wrongs of the Indians, peal in bebalf of Am. ia iseries of war, [liberty +A dream, stronoinical, The moon, {zens, The Bible, The purse and the sword My country, ‘True moral courage, What is war? Butter, My Deborah Lee, The race, ‘Fhe pin and need\e, The modern Puritan, Immortatity of the sou), Heroism and dariag, A shot at the decanter, fern a | Temptations of cities, Broken resolutions, There is no death, Rac A fr etal discourse, A Frenchman’s diuoer, }Unjust national acqui’n ;The amateur coachman, "he cold water man, Permanency of States, Liberty of speech, John Thompson’s dau’r an’s relation tosociety}The unseen battle-field,/ Duties of Auerican citi-| House-cleaning, - The limits to happiness,’ Plea for the Republic, [The umn, a A boy’s philosophy, _ Hoe out your row, Six-year-old’s protest, The suicidal cat, A valediction, Popping corn, The editor, Thagame, in rhyme, The fairy shoemaker, What was learned, Press on, The horse, The snake in the grass, Tale of the tropics, Bromley’s speech, DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, No, 9. Playing ball, Ah, why, Live for something, Lay of the hen-peck: d, The outside dog, Welf and lamb, ion in love, peor the raven became black {A mother’s work, |The same, Who rules, A sheep story, A little correspondent, fit is mot your business. 4 > Nothing to de Honesty best policy, Heaven, Ho for the fields, Fashion on the brein, On Shanghais, A smile, Frogs asking for a king,/ One good turn deserves) Casabianca, Sick Hion, : Country and town mice, Man and woman, me, The Lotus-plavter, Little things, A Baby’s soliloquy, The same, second extract| Repentance, The fisher’s child, Shakspearian scholar, _ A Maiden’s psalm of life, _A mixture, Plea for skates, A plea for eggs, Hambng patriotism, Night after Christmas, Short legs, Shrimps oz amusements | [another, My dream, Ruin, VU never use tobaceo, A mosaic, The old bachelor, Prayer to light, Little Jim, Angelina’s lament, JolinnyShrimps on boots Mercy, Choice of hours, Poor Richard’s sayings, Who killed Tom Roper, Homeopathic soup, Nose and eyes, ' Malt, {come, A hundred years: to The madmen and his Little sermons, f[razor, — 'Snuffles on electricity, The two cradles, The ocean storm, Do thy little, doit well, Little puss, Buse-ball, [tever. Prescription for spring Dime Schoo] Series—Speatiers. DIME SPREAD-EAGLE SPEAKER, No. i0, Ben Bustor’s oration, Hans Von Spiegel’s Ith, Josh Billings’s ads ice, A hard-chell sermon, The boots, The -squeerer, Nouh and the devil, ‘A lover's luck, Hifalutin Adot Digestion and Distinetion’s disadvant-{ Sinith, {ages Gushalina Bendibus, A stock of notions, phus, Paradise,): ¥- Trovatere, Kissing in ‘the streey, |Speaking for thesheriff, |Dram-head sermons, |Daking ashweat, rerl's philosopede, HK {Then and now. nau’s rights,” {Josh Billings? uther, Doctor DeBlisi | Consignmenta, iHard Jives, le staring, | Luke wsana’t|Th Jac Spratt, |New Eagland {Dan Bryaut’sspeech, |The ancientbachelor, The Niam Niams, A colired view, |Jacob Whittle’s speech, |People will tall, ned Maud Muller, | Jerks prognost 2s, [Swackk rs ball, Nobody, |A word with Snouks, Who wouldn't bs fire’n, Train of circumstanees |Sut Los engords | Don't depend on dadda {zers,| Music of libor, |Gord advice, lings on Luz-i the American ensign, apeiy, | Woman, ‘The itching palw, DIME DEBATER AND CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE, Io, 11. Be ae N@ SOCIETY. Ro vinhdion of, Constitution ‘of, By-Laws of, Riles of government, Local rules of order, Local rules.of debate, Subjects for discussion. 1.—HOW TO DEBATE. | Why there are few geod} debaters, Prerequisites to orator-| ical success, ‘The logic of debate, The rhetoric of debate, | Maxims to observe, ‘The preliminary pre- mise, O-:der of argument, DIM The ornter of the day, The heuthen Chinee, Theiand we love, Jin Bludso, Be trae to yourself, Ah Sia’s reply, A plea for smiles, The Stanislaus tificanciety, Free Italy, Aitaly’s alien rulers Boe — of one man} Tle ious of peace 41814), scien-, (Suppers |Preliminary — Miscellaneous, RMAN'SGUIDR | tion, Jiuent of petitions, y nestings and |Petindinent organize-| \The decorum of debate, {Hints te a ehairuian. | Iv.— DEBATES, g reports, pa-| Debate in full | pers, ed {Which is the gres nen How (Ot subsi ‘ety motions, denefit to his couniry |The due order of con- | —the warrior, ‘isu How/ sidering questions, | man,er poe ? 4o be consider d, iComnuriltiocs, |Debates in brie Rights to the floor, @bjects of a comanittwe, |L fs the |Rights of a speaker as|Their powers, svorks of fi against the hi | Hew named, condemned f Salling yeas.and maya, [When not to eit, IL Are lawyers a ben- Interrupting avote, | |Rules of orderand pro | efit or @ curse tu s0- Organization of Deltb-| cedure, ciety # erutive Bodies, Con-| How to report, | V.— QUOTATIONS ventions, Aununl or|The/ committe of the PHRASES. Ganeral Agsemblies, i whole, iLatin. E EXHIBITION SPEAKER, NO. 12. The critical moment, [Gravelotte, [Whatwe see in thexky, ‘The east and the west, |All hail1 } A lecture, Isthere any moneydn it? Emancips What I wish, Are we a uation # 1S) Good manners, Social science, \A ballad et Luke Erie, Influenee of ree . |Suffraze, The patriot’s ch |The Caweneian race, Phe wight of the peaple,| Manifest desth 1’ review of situs The crowning Atty ls |Let it alone! {Li ittle Breeches, The pumpkin Disconcerted candidate, |Hins Donderbeck’swed- When you're down, Maud Muller alter} d What Englind has dene| Hans Br eitinan, jAv The right of neutrality, [What is true happimees,|Story of the twins, The axtional fag, |The irish of it. A par-!A cold in the nose, Our true future, & ody, iMy uncle Adolphus lr ie cae? of Dusiness, Order of business and |Conside: preceedings, The +* Question.” it-can be ¢reated, The * Question.” oO | aXb ion of science, Pirit of forgiveness, aoe and leve, Keauty, |Song of Inbor, “DIME SCHOOL SPEAKER, No, 13. POPULAR onaToR. | fanny Butterfly’s bull)" Mropics uncougenial to} grexiness, 4 Live for something, 4 Civil and religious lie-| erty, Second review of thes grand army, Dishonesty of "politica, 4 The great commener, Character and achieve- 4 mem, “T can’t,” | *1t might have been,” Don’t strike a man when down, ioe )Ow keeping at it, |The Arend secret, The treusures ‘of the| Civil service re form, deep, The true en tleman, | Dothy ittle—do itevell, j Keep cool, ; The tragie pa. | Tosus forever, e The precious freight, |saneata scnoo. viaens |The heart, A sketch, A cry for life, The world, The eword the true ar-|The eat-bath, Beautiful thonghts, biter, psi lives, A picture of life, Avistocrn: ‘agi life, true to urself, BaronGrimalein’ "8 deat To whom shall we give) young man, se |Obed Snipkins, | thanks ¢ me ispassing, A catasteophe, { Resolution, The gospel of avturany, Cheerfulness, Never mind, Speak not harshly, {The midnight train, better view, [Ti li Mountains, ‘The Bible, | Courage, Chiristiantty our bul- Tho’ aah of the hour, Thesast lay of the Min-. strel, unlucky lovers, The eternal hyma, Live for good, Ths silent city. DIME SCHOOL SERIES,.—Speakers, DIME SERIO-COMIC SPEAKER, No, 19. The American phalanx,|Sour grapes, Pompey Squash, [Smart Soy’s opinion, The same, |The unwritten ‘Claws,’ Mr. “he’s new version, |The venomous Wormty The old canoe, | |The midnight express, |Corns Room at the top, [Fi | Morality? 8 worst enemy|Up ear Jew England weather,'J age not thy brother, The silent teacher, D euSY, The dog St. Bernard, The working people, r eat in politiea, ’Yaweob Strauss, |The libeval candidate By Tie money! mii, |War and due a ‘Bs boy’s Splelon of hens, |Strike th , ‘The great Napoleon, |The new Sate , |Puddy’s version of exe Yawcob Hotfeitegobble. ji The two lives, The trombones stor, The setti be present gay despond, close. hard man, 5 Arab’s zs id 'T' i nnot gring,| s and applicutions ‘Address to young hidies, Good. arp ge, \ little big man ; |Now and then, {han, xenerically core The 0 iendship, {1 unny man, vos igh| sidered, The price of pleasure, }'Phe little orutoy \Early rising, \A chemical wedding. DIME SELECT SPEAKER, No. 20. God, Penalty of selfishniss, }Now is the time, | Won’t you let my papa Save the Republic, {Lig rhts Out te xhortation to patziots,| _ w orkt Watches of rhe night, | Clothes don’t make the! He is rerywhere, }Consxience the bess The chosing yeur, TAN, 1 « nofdarkness, | guide, Wro gand road, -|The hist man, |Religion the keystone, | Whom to honor, An enemy y Mind your own business! Scorn of office, ts lords of Lab Py Barbara Froitehie, My Fourth of July sen-|Who are the tree? Early rising, The most precious gift, | ti o nts, |The eity on the hill, Pape raichel and Pep Tutellvetusl aad moval My Esquimane frient, |How to save the "Re-| power, Stor of the litsle rid him | public, Thanato: sis, y Je in se Spall The good old thnes, New ers of labor Shionny S Monmouth, me’s soliloquy, Wu rk of faith, Tl wrongs, es | Find a way ort ahety » A s to youns MeN, | 1 Desolation, { The musquito bass La dume aux camelias, | Beautiful Snow, Self-evident truths, t The hero. DIME FUNNY SPEAKER, No. 21, Colonel Sellers efuci-}One hundred years ago,jThe mew mythokgy Joan of Are, dates, |De* sperience obde Reb- | (Vulean,y The blessings: ad tom Clory mit es Sthars} ’rend Quack» Stroug, |The new my thology| ae and Sthripe \A dollar or two, ‘an ,) The peopte, Terence Orbowa’ ’s pat-|On some more hash, nev mythology|T hae »py lay ‘Fiosism, | vel vere money is king, | (Bacchus,) | Cat he : ne-kiln efub ors-| Professor Dinkelspei; gel- I kin nod wink to-nighd, ete Biudso; of the } man on the origin of/The new chareh doe- | Prairie Belle, Finter Thornbusb en) lite, trine, \A catastrophic dit": fools, Konse' entrated wisdum, pw suin?« watermillion, The maniac’s Gefer * The fiddler, Joseph Brown and thefJosiah Axtell’s oration, Woman, Ged bl.ss har? Phe regular season. mince pie, Parson Barebones’s an-| Be miserable, Phe school-boy’s lnment, oes sermon, | athema, Dodds versus Daubs, Dot baby off miue, A parody on ‘Tell ane }Ceesar Sonal on heat, |The Cadi’« judgmen& Bluggs once more, } ye winged winds,’? ES Voldher is made a)That calt Views on agriculture, 1A foggy day, masons | DIME JOLLY SPEAKER, NO. 22. Gran@father’s clock, [The delights of Spring, LA weak ease, A new @eclavation The XFXth century, [Josh Billings’s views, ,}They may be , happy. yet.) indep Mary’s von little ram, Bensteses, Orpheus, A ite vie Ww, rT hej qi lecture ep How tew pik out a,Persens. A“ “4 yo ge E watermelion, Rigi a sabbath | How tew pik outa dog/The fumny min, Clayfoot’s spirit race, f How tew prk outa kat | Don’t give it away, nool, F How tew pik out apA dak warning. AyThe Sed old thnes, ita. r the sisters, “oolore sar uiagertatin deed! A cong atulas ife, De filosofy ob fun, |Phis side and that, An awful warning, An} tory veminder, Disappointed di coverer,, Nocturnal mewsings, effective appeal, [Stealing the saered five & heathen’s score, |The lunatic’s reverie, {De pars ”m sowed de seed? The story of Iron.o Der dog und der Jobster} A bathetie ballad, Pp. Moor 3 Thanksgiving! thens modernised, The young tramp, ‘The ear, turkey, The ow3 and the pussys Delights of the season, | Backbone, The new essay op man,! ent. {3 The above books are sold by Newadealera everywnere, 1] b-patad. t address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each, RENEE eo en bee ee BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St,, WN. ¥. Dime School Series=Speakers, DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No. 23, Dat’s wat’s de matter, Ven te tide cooms in, got, Pat OF nhérty On WOs man’s rights, The home rulers, how they “ spakes,”” Hezekiah Dawson on Mothers. in-law. He didn’t sell the farm, The true story of Frank- lin’s kite, E would 1 were a boy again, A pathetic story, {Qld Mrs |All about a bee, The Mississippi mirac' ace K dark » Dose lains vot Mary haf|Te lon ledreinie German, ide view, r vay, Mary s shinall vite lamb A healthy discourse, Tobias sv to speak, Grimes, A pa ; Mz a and cate, Bill Underwood, pilot, Old Granley, Che pill peddler’s ora- tion, Widder words, Green’s tit Pluin lang {Latest Chinese outrage,) My neighbor’s doge. The manifest destiny of|Condensed } Mythology $ | the Irishman, Pictus, Peggy McCann, The eee tiee Sprays from Josh Bil- Legends of Attica, lings, |The stove-pipe tragedy De circumstances ob de) A doketor’s diubbles, sitiwation, The coming man, | Dar’ s nuflin new under|The illigant afluir at Muldeon’s, gious poem,|That little b: the corner, ‘ie delights, A genewine inference, endidate’s views, |An invitation to the Jundreary’s wisdom, | bird of liberty, age by truth-| The crow, Out west, y round 1 hat vielin, |Our ful June, DIME READINGS AND RECITATIONS, No. 24. The Irishman’s pano- | rama, The lightning-rod agent | The tragedy at four ace | flat, | Rath and Naomi, Carey of Corson, Babies, Jvhn Reed, The brakeman ab { church, Passun Mooah’s sar-| mount, Arguing the question, Jim Wolle aud the cats, The dim old forest, Rasher 1 The Sei David 2 Dreaming at fourscore, Ruin, Why should the +pirit of mortal be proud? The coming mustache, The engineer's story, A -andidate for presi- dent, Roll call, An ‘accession family, to the When the cows come | Death of th’ owd squire home, Mein tog Shneid, The donation party, t Elberon, ‘Tommy Taft, Theery of womanhood A_ Michigander judgment day, ANCE, burst bubble, Not one to spare, Curfew must not ring Mrs, Breezy’s pink lunch, | Rock of ages, J. Cesar Pompey Squash’s sermon, Annie’s ticket, The newsboy, Pat’s correspondence, in For tec ofthe dead, Charity, An essay on cheek. DIME BURLESQUE SPEAKER, No. 25. Plenty Small’s procla- mation, The mother-in law, The Widow O’Shune’s rint, Leatherlung’s con and pro. A cockney’s experience, The “ free and equal ”’ humbug, gle Scroggs’s ques-' tion: The renal hery of Jones, Declamation, Shtichen oats dot’s wild Treadwater Jim, A Leadville sermon on the “ prod,’ Address to the giv ess, The ass and the lark, Tony Johnson’s protest Waiermelons, Very pathetic, A telling plea, society. Wise and otherwise. Moonshine. Back to Griggsby’s, Advice toa young man, The plagues of Egy, t, Julius Cesar Sum- ner’s views, John Jones—his horn, Sentiment, Bu’stin’ the temperance ‘The scenes of childhood Saacho Brown is mad, Pilking’s landlady, The collegian illu uin- ates,” Uncle Cuff “rises fur ter *eplain,” Assorted women, Lake his mother used to: make, Set ’em oud! Yankee courtship, The dav we celebrate, Dot Fritzy, Buckeye Bill, Rev. Peter Bill’s warn- ing, Jo vs’s wife’s aunt, No nove French, ‘A rhyme of the tine, Animile Statistix, A short debate on rm, Some things accour ted} ? Jie good woman, for, pe clerk of the weath- The cats, Astronomical corusca- The critic at work, Fortunate F landers} shows his teeth, Guilty, of course, 7 had nob'e animal, man tor | The bold fisherman, The poet bold, | Cudjo Hardsin’s pre January Jones defends} — scription, the eagle, A tule of two buckets, The mule, | Do Hoboken bucket, Brother Gardner on| The sale oj old bache- liars, | That lamb, | | | lors. The difference, Getting a photograph, As others see us, The cotton field hand, | Sigus ofsummer, A “fish . tory.” Peter and his lottery! ticket, The mosquito adjured, | “That birchen tree,”’ ‘The late Mr, Shaksyere ‘Lhe pie for me, DIME DIALOGUES No, 36. The king diserowned. For an entire school. Meeting of the Bulgertown philomelian literary For 5 or more males and 3 females, Por six little boys. For six little girls. Beware of Mr. Oily Gammon. For four males. Sarah Hannah. For four females: The cowboy cousin, females. ~ The proverb children. For two males and three For six little girls. The happiest man in the county. For two males and two femates. . The repudiated legacy. For two females. Prof. Pachyderm’s insstodon, For tour males. The too good-looking man. For three mules and two females. How Cesar con ered. For one female, five males and a * ghost.” Spoons as an ritanoenetie: For three females. | How Wi iggins was cured. For four males, 13 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any adidress, on receipt of price, 16 cents each. 3 -BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, $8 Wiliam St, N. ¥. “tee ‘ i ie . si | Popular Dime Hand-Books. 4 BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW “ORK. Each volume 100 12me sevace, sent post-paid on reccipt of price—ten cents each, GAME AND PASTIMF SEBPIES. ; HAND-BOOK aT SUMMER SPORTS Comprising a, atetng, Running, Twine i are and ound ‘icycling, Archery, ete, it } let vi _ anal English Athletic Huies, oe : Nie ae pe ety - HAND-BO-K OF WINVER SPORTS, Embracing Skating ic ; rollers,) Rink-Ball, Curiing, Ice-Boating and Poorball, ; BEiten tie 2nd and om HAND-BOOK OF PEDEST RIA NISM—Giving the Rules for Training and‘Prac-- ' tice in Walking, Running, Leaping, Vaulting, ete. CRICKET AND FOOT-BALL—A desirable Companior, containing complete instructions in the elements of Bowling, Batting: and Wielding; He the Re: vised Laws of the Game; Remarks on the-Duties of Umpires; the Mary-le-Bone Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, ete. DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete, guide to the game, with the latest 5 rules, diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Parlor Croquet, éte. DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Embracing’ all the rules of the art for both sexes. } YACHTING AND ROW7NG—This volume will be found very complete as a guide to the conduct of watercraft, and fuil of interesting information alike ta 3 the amateur ana the novice. ; - RIDING AND DRIVING—A sure guide to correct. Horsemanship, with com: fae" lete directions for the road and field; ind a specific section of directions and ‘ormation for female equestrians, BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Out-door and In-door SUMMER GAMES, for Tourists Ri and Families in the Country, Picnics, etc., comprising 100 Gz. mes, Forfeits, etc, - DIME CHES} INSTRUCTOR—A coniplete. hand-bopk of instruction, giving ‘ the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games. YOUNG PEOPLE'S. SERIES. 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER- WRITER—Embrecing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules for the use of all classes, on all o\'casions, 2—DIME BOOK OF E tiQUETTE—F or Ladies a1.d Gentlemen; being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding, and a Directory to the Usagés of society. 8—DIME BOOK OF Ve: R3kS pa nitin rate Verses f¢v Valentines, Mottoes, Coup- - ets, St. Valentine Verses, Bridal and Marriage Verses, Verses of Love, ete. 4—DIME BOOK OF DREA MS—Their Romance and Mystery; with a complete . interpreting Dictionary, | Compiled from the most accredited sources, 5—D. FORTUNE-TELLER—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling, how to read Character, etc. 6—DIME LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER—Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Society, ete. 7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court: ship and waren Embracing also a complete Floral Dictionary, ete. 8—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION And Guide to Dancing. Giving rules , of Etiquette, hints on Private Parties, toilettes for whe Ball-room, ete. - 12—DIME BOOK } tion. It deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful. FAMILY SERIES. . 1, DIME COOK BOOK. Nei 4, DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN, % DIME RECIPE BOOK. 5, DIME DRESSMAKING AND MIL- 8 DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUa.., - LINERY. ce! {= The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or Will be sent, Rh -naid, to any address, on receipt of prices 10 cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS oe Ba ers, 98 William street, New Yor! f ; Bie j 4 OF BEAULY—A delightful book, full of interesting informa / SPEAKERS AND IIALOGUES. —FrorR— School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments. <8 THE DIME SPEAKERS.. 1—Diwr AMERICAN SPEAKER. ) 13—Diue ScHoon SPEAKER, 2—Dime NATIONAL SPEAKER. J4—Diuu Lupicrous SPragEr, 3—Dime PATRIOTIC SPEAKER, | 15—Cart Prerzen’s Kowix aL SPEAKER, 4—Dine Comic SPEAKER, |. 16—Dn Yourn's SPr AKER. 4 5—Dime ELocurronisr, 17—DiMe ELoQquest SrbaAKER. 6—Dime Homorons SPHAKER. 18-—Diite Harm. Conunia SPEAKER. 7—Dime STANDARD S BR. 19—DIMB SERTO-ComMIG SPEAKER, 8—Ding STUMP SPEAKER. 20—DimMe SeLecr SPEAKER, 9—Dime JUVENILE SPEAKER, 21—Dimg Funny SpHaker, 10—Dime SPREAD-HAGLE SPEAKER, 22—Dimr JoLty SPHAKER. 11—Dime Denater & CuarrMAN’s GUIDE 23—Dine DiaAuect SPEAKER, 122—Dinum EXHIBivrioN SPEAKER. | 24—Diae Reavincs AND. RuCITATIONS. 25—Diae BURLESQUE SPEAKER, 2 : Hach Speaker, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces. THE DIME DIALOGUES Drm DiaLoaues Neusrx One. Dime DraLtoavrs Nemper EIGHTEEN. Dive Disnoaues Noam Two. Dime Draroauss Nomper NiNeTeen. Dime Draios Nomper THREB. * Dive DraLtoaurs Numper Twenty. Dime Distocuns Numeer Four. Dive DrALoaurs NumBer TWENTY-ONE. Dime Disnoavrs NemMper Five. Dive. DrALogves Numper Twenry-rwo. Dire Dratoacys Numper Srx. Dime DraLoaues NumMBer TWENTY-THREE Dime Drstoguas Neawnta SEVEN, Dime DtaLocves NvMBeR TWENTY-FOUR, Dime Dratogous Niuara Eien. Dime DraLoaues NuMRER TWENTY-FIVE, Dine Diratoeuis Nowowgr Nise. Divs DiaLoeues Noumper TWENTY-SIX, Dims Diatosurs Nomper TT Dire Draloaums NuMBER TWENTY-SEVEN Donte Drvtcoaves Numeer ELrven, Dimn DIALoG NuMBER ‘TWENTY-EIGHT Dime Disuoayes Nomexr Tweive Diye Dtanogves NuMBER TWENTY-NINE. Dime DiAtoaves NuMeer Turrreen. | Dive DtaLogups Numprr, Torry, Dime DIALOGUES NuMBER FovrtTren, Dian Distoques NUMBER THIRTY-ONE. Dive DIALoGvES Numage Firreey. |.Dorme Dracocurs Numper Tarty-Two. Dine DraLocues Nemeer Srxveen, | Dime Dranocves Numper THrty-THREE Dime DIALOGUES NUMBER, SEVENTEEN | Divs DiaLogvrs Nomper Tatrty-Four. Lit'le Folks. ' Dime Dratoaucs NempBer ‘THinty- FIvE. Dime Distoaves Numper Turty-Six, Each volume, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 15 to 25 pieces. (= For sale by all newsdealers; or sefit, post-paid, toany address, on receipt of price—TEN CENTS EACH. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, | New York. | f ‘ - | ; | . |