DIALOGUES No. 40, BRADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM 8T., NEW, i ~The New Xora News (o.. New Vork. 7, OM ye Dime Dialogues and Seater, ‘Fer Schools, Exhibitions, tertainments and Amateur St- Votumes. Eacw 100 12m0 Paczs. m3 L 'oal Dialogues, Minor Dramas, Scenic and D Pieces, and Rostram Divertisements have now a national reco, tion and reputation, for'their excellence, availability and sip larly varied char acter, have sent the little volumes into Sch Homes and Associations throughout every State and Sec cial this Country and the Dominion. The “ Dialogues” now numbér forty issues or books, and | : “* Speakers ” twenty;five. Hach volume of the “ Dialogues ” ( : tains from fifteen to twenty pieces—expressly prepared for} series by teachers, dramatic experts, and. selected writers ~ skilled in such work:—bonee the unbounded success of the s¢ with Schools of all grades, Scholars of all ages, retinal the Amateur Stage. oe] The “Speakers,” containing from sixty to seventy pieces @ run the whole range of oratory, recitation afd declarsation, gi} hat is best in elcquence, argument, humor, vernacilas: | | aialect—prose and verse—and thus making the series & pefSIVE mine of good things, not only for declamatioh and Senn PURY for School and Family Readings. aif y "9 = This series of beoks hagno equal*for avcslacbitity| re of necut tes, and has “a wider popular ity among teach scholars, schools and cunateirs than any series or single oll yet mu blished, at any pr ice, in this country. ‘ Deven These books aresfor sale by all newsilealers, or r sent, post ny address, on rece ‘ipt of prices ten cents each, ead le and. Adams, Bi tthet LDI: 93 William Street, New x EXPRESSLY PREPARED a DIALOGUES, = ae . | abs SS AND SPECTACULAR PIBCES!: FARCES =~ ~~ Ente r according to Act of Congress, in the year 1892, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, ~ : In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, ae pag THE WIDOW’S MIGHT; or, Taz UNEXPECTED OpTEN HAPPENS.. A Family Shake Up. For two males and four females. By x. ails McBride, * It. DEVELOPING A DEVELOPER; or, THe Way or THE PROMOTER Is,Nor Auways Easy..... Liapaenis tases tiene de aoe tamara For five males. By John A. a e A.Very Popular Fraud Exposé. oH NEEDED INSTANCE; or, THANKSGIVING WiTH A Monat. A Lesson i in Ethics. For three females, By Miss E. M. Thatcher. EV; > A HAPPY UNDERSTANDING; or, Cicus Versus ARrreMertc... . A Boys’ Rights’ Plea. For two boys and two teachers. By Miss Lucy A. Lee, : 5 : We THE ‘TRAGEDY OF THE TEN LITTLE BOYS........ soratta balan The Old Rhyme in a New Guise. By L, St. John. | a TN See HIS TRAINING DAY; or, How To Curt A GROWLER, ...+...+.+0004 _ A New “Reform” Method, For one male and two females. ‘By _ Annie D. Gainor. ss = . ee - Vil. THE SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF SCANDAL: or, _ Human Nature Is Womsn Narure... A Forcible Ilustration, For a ditiee of females, By Mrs, 8, . > - Ashmun, vit, Hee Reem wwe reasons seeeeeyeees PHE MORAY, OF A DREAM... ‘For re boys and several « awarts,” By ae Alice. Novel Road to Rectooation, Bor two males and one female, - Mr mW, _BOeaah,, CONTENTS, PS ioe MEDDLING WITH SANTA CLAUS; or, THe Oprrupina Farrms.... 50 A Spectacular and Dress Piece. For a number of characters. Alice Cary Victor. f DECE. ‘ving TO. ‘WIN; or, How Frep Grantiry CoNVERTED is a eet Gags Hi cR Treo alee: B For _ A Rbymed Colloquy. For three little girls and a boy. By M. ze 1 ee »! XIII. A Domestic Drama. Kor one male and three females. By D. RB. Brubaker. AT ANSWERS THE ADVERTISEMENT ........-.. A Possible Byont. For two males. By the Ex-Reporter. ; : XV. NCLE DAVID’ 'S PARTY; or, Toe Suapaige Taat Was No Som PRISE. | SPP ia fo sd wae States « Rural Revolution, oad a number of participants. By Mrs. Tagtimate a Actor, - Xvi. ee Be aces NOW AND THEN,... ........ 5 ee ee vg For two little girls. By Mrs. M. L. L. a XVIML a6 oe ay oe Se Nae eh Gp ee ailway Station Mise en Scene. tor ten "si 5 rs and Truepetota ‘travelers, old Say aia By John / THE WIDOW”S MIGHT ;' OR, z THE UNEXPECTED OFTEN HAPPENS. Characters: —MR. PETER JOHNSTON, 4) city ina Mas, EMELINE JOHNSTON, his 10ífe ; ENOLA JOHNSTON, Ma JOHNSTON, their daughters ; RANDOLPH VAN DEUSEN, a swell ; Mus. JEMIMA FLADERORAFT, an old lady from the country Ye « SCENE.—A vell-furnished. room. Sofa, easy-chairs, rocild ete, Pictures on the walls. Mx. JOHNSTON discovered. . Mr. JouxstoN. l have failed in business; my money ha been swept away, and Tam a poor man. How can 1 unfold. this to my family? How can I tell them that they must de- scend to poverty? l shrink from it; 1 know not what to do, For myself I care not, but it will de very hard for Emeli to leave her position in “society and again be as poor as w were when we resided in the country village of Westfield But I must go down to the office. When I return it will be necessary for me to break the news to my wife. (Exit Mx. JOMNSsTON, RR.) (Enter Mrs. FELYDERCRAFT, L., carrying a bandboz, e bun- dles and a cotton umbrella.) Mas. FLYDERCRAFT. Well, Pve got here at last, H. wonderful sight of trouble, too. (Sets down bandbox, bundle. and. umbrella.) Half a dozen boys kept a-runnin' after m sayin' as how they'd carry my bundles and things. B was too smart for that. Give one of my bundles to boy to carry! Well, I think not! Pd be a'most sarti ¡to see itagain. No, P'm a leetle too smart for that ey did come from the country. Aud this 1s where my neph: Mr. Peter Johnston, lives! Well, 1 had consid'able trou findin' the house, but I was soton secin” Peter and hi 1 bad hearn tell how he had got to be a great. rich, 1 tical 1 man, ñod I hagn't any notion of comin' 19 th ae THE DIME DIALOGUES, and not spendin’a few days with him. Is’pect they'll be glad to see me. 1’ve hearn that he has two highfalutin’ stylish als and I was bent on seein’ ’em. Well, it’s kind of startlin’ ow things do git changed around in this world, Twenty- five years ago Peter was a poor man, and lived down in Scrubgrass Holler and made his livin’ by goin’ around a peid- dlin’ in a one hoss wagon. Now, they say, he’s one of the biggest highfaluters in the town. Well, it’s a fact there’s no knowin’ the ups and downs that may come to any of us. Twenty-five years ago I was poor, too, but since that time ile has been struck on my little farm and now I s’pose I’m worth at least one hundred thousand dollars. Poor, dear Hezekiah, he didn’t live long to enjoy the money that came pourin’ in upon us. He’s dead and gone and I’m gittin’ purty weil up in years. I thought I might as well see somethin’ of the world when I had sich a heap of money, so | took a notion I’d come to the city and visit my nephew, Peter Johnston. Of course I didn’t want ’em to know I was a-comin’, so I didn’t send em any word about it. I jist thought I’d step in and kinder surprise them. (Going and looking at a large painting on the wall.) My sakes! whata big picter! I reckon that would cost consid’able money. And, jist see what amazin’ furniture! There’s a rockin’ cheer. big enough to hold two purty good-sized people, And sich stylish carpet, too! Ah, yes, the city is the place to live! Peter might have stayed all these twenty-five years in Scrubgrass Holler and like as not he’d still been a-goin’ around a-peddlin’ in his one-hoss wagon. But Peter had some git up about him and he come to the city and now jist see how it is! Yes, a man that has go-aheadativeness about him can git along when he comes to the city. (Puts on her spectacles and goes to another picture.) And here’s another amazin’ nice picter, . (Hunter Exoua and Ranpouen, £&.) KE, (Sereams.) Ob! O-bh! Mrs. F. Well, what are you screechin’ about? _ K. Who are you? Mrs. F. Vm Jemima Flydercraft. How’s all the folks? E. Oh, Randolph, what shall we do? R. Well, I weally don't know. Shall I call in the ger- vahnts? Mus. F. (Zo Ranpotrn.) If she’s a-goin’ to faint, mebbe you d better run fur the camfire. R. Aw you a cwazy pewson? Mrs. F. No, not as I knows on. I’ve jist come to town. Mighty big town this is. Had consid’abie trouble findin’ the house, but I got here all right. Is’pose you don’t know me? R. ‘Weally I have not that honaw. H, What did you come here for? hi aA A in crete q ee pea RE rns eR eee THE WIDOW's MIGHT BF Se Mrs. F. Come to spend a visit. Ireckon you are one of ~ Peter Johnston’s darters, ain’t yout E. If lam, what is that to you? Mrs, F, Oh, ’tain’t nothin’ in partic’lar, but you’re a purty © fine lookin’ gal. You don’t know me, 1 s’‘pose, or you wouldn't be so impedent. I’m your pap’s aunt, Jemima Fly- dercraft, from Scrubgrass Holler. E. (Laughing contemptuousty ) Ta, ba, hat Yes, you look as if you had come from Scrubgrass Hollow. Why didn’t you bring the rest of the family? Mrs. F. Indeed there is no more or the tamily now. Hez- ekiah, poor, dear man, he’s dead and gone. and I’m left alone. John—he was the only boy we had, and hes dead, too. Yes, I’m all alone. : Yes, I suppose you’re a ‘‘lone, lorn widder.” Mrs. F. [ thought l’d come down to the city and see my relations. JI hain’t never been here afore, and I hain’t seen your pap for up’ard of twenty-tive years. I reckon this is your beau. (Nodding to Ranpoupu.) Might I ax you what your name is? R. , Of couwse, of couwse. If you. aw a welative of ° Enola’s, of couwse I will feel in honaw bound to convewse with you. ‘ E. (Curtly.) Oh, no, you needn’t talk to her; she’s an old impostor. R. Weally, now, is she an impostaw? : Mrs. F. (Zo Enola.) What kind of an ‘oster did you say was? E.- I think you had better gather up your traps and get out. Mrs. F. Well, yes, mebbe I’d better go. But, I’d like to see Peter first. You see, Peter used to havea one: hoss wagons and he went around peddlin’ things when he lived down to.” Scrubgrass Holler. EH. (Sinking down on a chair.) Oh, dear} R. Weally, this is outwageous, Mrs. F. What! outrageousto peddle? ‘Well, now, I don’t see nothin’ outrageous about it. But, what’s the matter with the gal? She seems to have tuck a kind of a fainty spell, (To Ranpoupnu.) I ’spect you’d better run fur the camfire. Rk. It begins to appeaw to me that I had bettaw take this mattaw into my hands. Old countwy.scarecrow, you had - bettaw wise up and flee away. In othaw words, you had bet- — taw absquatulate, get out! : Mrs. F. (Angrily.) Did you say fur me to git out? Did you say I was an old scarecrow? (Seizes her bandbox and strikes him on the head.) Git out yourself] (Strikes him again.) If I’m a scarecrow, I calkilate you're a reg’lar baboon. (Strikes him again.) 12 THE DIME DIALOGUES. R. (Running away from’ her.) Murdaw! murdaw! wob-. pers! murdaw! You old wepwobate, you’d bettaw stop. (ENOLA springs up.) Mrs. F. (Following him.) You say Ym an old country scarecrow, do you? (Strikes him.) Take that, you jacka- napes! I'll Yarn you to keep a civil tongue in your head. R. Oh, oh! She’s a wegular old catamount. Hang it all, I guess I’d bettaw wet weat. (Runs out, BR) E. (Sternly.) Now I want tosay to you that you must leave _ this house, Mrs. F. I must, eh? ‘Well, I'll see about that. (Ravses. her bandbox: as if to strike.) Vm a relation of yours, and ’'m a-goin’ to stay till I see your pap. I calkilate ve got some grit, and I can’t be chased out by none of Peter Johnston’s up-stuck city gals. Keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll give you a whack with this ’ere jist the way I whacked that monkey a minute ago. EH, I'll go now, and I'l) have. you put out into the street. (fixit Enoua, PR.) Mrs. F. Well, you might have some diffikilty on that ‘int, too. I calkilate I’m goin’ to stand up fur my rights. Sets down her bandbow and arranges her packages.) hat — baboon kinder knocked my things around. Well, he’d better not come in here again a-callin’ me an old country scarecrow. If he does, he’ll git a bammerin’ that he’ll remember fur the rest of his nateral life. (Enter Mary, L.) Mary. (Stariled.) Oh, who is this? Mrs. F. What! another gal? Are you one of Peter John- ston’s darters? M. Yes, ma’am. May I ask who you are? Mrs. F. Sart’inly, sart’inly, I'm Peter Johnston’s aunt, ‘In other words, I’m Jemima Flydercraft from Scrubgrass Holler. M. Oh, are you? (Advancing and shaking hands with her.) I have heard father speak of you and Iam very glad to see ou. z Mrs. F. Railly now, are you? Well, you're not like the other gal that was in here a minute ago. @he talked to me like as if she would take pleasure in bitin’ my head off, M. It was Enola, I suppose. Mrs. F. I don’t know; I didn’t ax her her name, but I ' told her Il was Jemima Flydercraft from Scrubgrass Holler, and an aunt of Peter Johnston’s, but she turned up her nose and said I was an impostor, And that baboon that was along with her, he called me a scarecrow JI couldn’t stand that and 1 whacked him over the head with my unbrel)’ until 1 made him holler avd skedaddle outen the house. ‘ THE WIDOW’S MIGHT. sod 13 ~ M. (Laughs.) Ha, ha! 1 think he deserved it. | Mrs. F. Of course he did! The Scrugginses—you see I was a Scruggins afore | married Hezekian Flydercraft—and | the Scrugginses wouldn’t take no sass from anybody. | M. My sister, Enola, is unreasonable at times. Mrs F. Yes, I should think so. Now, if I dont miss my guess, you’re a different kind of a gal altogether. But, j that’s the way it goes. Sometimes there’ as much difference ) é between two in a family as there is between day and night, M. Jet me take off your bonnet, Aunt Jemima. (Com- yi . mences to untie her bonnet strings.) And I will go and call ma. E You must be very tired after your long journey. Did Enola ss not'ask you to take off your bonnet? Mrs. F. No, I calkilate she’d rather ’a’ bit my head off. Is she goin’ to marry that baboon that was along with her? | M. (Taking her bonnet and placing her hat on the table.) r Yes, they are engaged. | Mrs. F. Well, | think I'd want a husband mighty bad | when I'd take that feller. What’s the matter with him? There seems tob: somethin’ wrong with his talkin’ appara: ‘tus. When le wants to say better he says bettaw. I reckon | fe re got the mumps nor lump jaw, nor nothin’ of that ete ind? M. (Laughiny.) Ha, ha! Oh, no! Some people talk that way here in the city. Mrs. F. They do? Well. I never heard anything near like it except the bawlin’ of Bill Jones’s yearlin’ calf. And i that was a peculiar calf, too, (Looking off, R) Ah, here | comes your mother. I wonder if she’ll know me. { (Enter Mrs. Jounston, £.) es Mrs. J. Ab! P * Mrs. F. Emeline, how de do? Mrs. J. I believe [ do not know you. ones Mrs. F. Don’t know me, don’t vou? Take another look at me, Emeline, and I calkilate yeu'll figger it out. Mrs. J. No, I don't know you. Never saw you before. . Mrs. F. Yes, you did, but I reckon not fur up’ward of ; S 7 twenty-five years. I’ve jist come down from Scrubgrass Holler. a Mrs. J. Oh, you are Aunt Jemima Flydercraft? al Mrs. F, That’s it exactly. a Mrs. J. Really, now, I’m surprised. (Goes to her, takes her hand and kisses her.) J did not know you at all. Mrs. F. No, I reckon not. Twenty five years makes con- sil’able change on a’most anybody, and I reckoned you~ wouldn’t know me. ae Mrs. J. Be seated, Aunt Jemima, you must be weary after your long trip. (Places chair.) Mrs. F, Well, yes, 1 am kind of tuckered out, (Seats her . — / k 14 THE DIME DIALOGUES. self.) But, I reckon I'll soon git rested a-sittin’ in one of these big comfortable chairs. _How’s Peter gittin’ along?” * Mrs. J. Oh, very well! Mrs. F. Yes, I reckoned so from the looks of things. I tell you, you’re livin’ in the biggest kind of style. This is a mighty big house you’ve got. I’d hearn tell that Peter was doin’ a smashin’ business here in the city, and that he was powerful rich. I reckon you wouldn’t have any notion of comin’ back to Scrubgrass Holler? Mrs. J. Oh, no; we are very well contented here. : Mrs. F. Well, I should think you might be. Peter was a pushin’, perseverin’ sort of a feller when he lived out to Scrubgrass Holler, and I allers prophesied that he’d git along in the world. You’ve gota couple of nice, smart gals—this one in partic'lar. (Wodding to Mary.) Can’t say os 1 was overly pleased with t’other one. But then she’s got a beau, “i es sometimes kinder causes a gal to make a dunce of erself. Mr. J. (Declaims outside.) ‘‘The storm is dreadful. The heavens are one vast black cloud;” (Hnter Mr. Jounston, LL He continues speaking and gesticulates extravagantly. Mrs. Jounsron springs up in astonishment.)—‘* the sheeted rain comes down in torrents. The fair earth is deluged; the sea, the broad-breasted sea, is tossed in terrible commotion, and the whole round world seems wrapped in eternal mid- night.” Mrs. J. (Running to him and taking hold of his hands.) Oh, Peter, what isit? What’s the matter? (Mary also runs to her father and seems distressed.) M. Oh, papa, what is it? Mr. J. 1 think I could do better on another speech. (Re- cites.) **In the tempest of life when the wave and the gale Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, If thine eve shouid grow dim and thy caution depart, Look aloft and be firm, and be fearless of heart.” Mrs. J. Oh, Peter, speak, What ¢s the matter? Mr. J. Speak! Huven’t I been speaking? Yes, the storm is dreadful. Mrs. F. Peter, you’re jist a-cattin’ up like you used to. (To Mrs. Jounsron.) Yes, he was allers aspeakin’ pieces and cuttin’ up sich shines as that. Mr. J Emeline, can you be brave and stand firm if the blow should come? -Mrs J. (Aside, and in great distress.) Oh, I do believe he has lost his reasun. M. Oh, papa, what ds the matter? Are you ill? Mrs. J. Speak, Peter; tell us what is troubling you fH WIDOWS MIGHT, 15 (Znter ENous and RANDouPH, PR.) Mr. J. Speak? Haven’t I been speaking? What do you want next? Yes, I’ll give you aline from Shakespeare. (As he declaims he strides about and makes extravagant gestures.) «Strike on the tinder, hol! Give me a taper; call up all.my people: This accident is not unlike my dream, Belief of it oppresses me already: Light, I say! light!” Mrs. J. (Jn distress.) Oh, dear, he’s insane; he has lost” his reason. Oh, what shall we do? Mrs. F. I believe I’d jist let him alone. He's jist cuttin’ up a little because I’ve come. Mrs. J. Peter, this is Aunt Jemima. Don’t you know her? Mr. J. Really, now, 7s it Aunt Jemima? (Goes to her, She rises and they shake hands.) Didn't know you at all, I’m very glad to see you. Mrs. F. You still speak speeches I see, jist like you used i when you was young and lived down in Scrubgrass Hol- er, ; Mr. J. V’mintrouble. Yes, Aunt Jemima, I’m in trouble, and I suppose I do act somewhat—somewhat—that is, kind of somewhat— Mrs. ¥. Yes, you act like as if you was a little off. Mr. J. Yes, I suppose 1 do, but the blow has come—the storm is on. Mrs. J. (Placing one hand on his shoulder and looking earn- estly in his face.) Oh, Peter, what zs the matter? Mr. J. For myself I could endure it, but you, Emeline, ah, you! and these my precious babes. (Potts to ENOLA and Mary.) Mrs. F. Now, Peter, they’re not babies. Don’t you see one of ’em’s got a beau? Mr. J. Yes, that’s true—Enola is provided for. Mr. Van Deusen will save her from the whirlpool of-destruction, but, what is to become of my wife and my darling daughter, Mary? R. (Aside.) I wondaw if the old man is going to bweak up. Fitna, J. Oh, Peter, tell us all! What has happened, and - why do you act so? Mrs. F, Yes, Peter, speak up and tell us what’s the mat- ter. Did a mule kick you on the head and knock the senses out of you? Mr. J. Yes, I’ll tell you all—I’'ll tell you all. I shrink: from it and yet it must be done. The blow has come—the oo e416 _ tm DIME DIALOGUES. storm is on. I faction ibe blow could be averted—I thought the storm would oe by, brt, alas! I was mistaken. The- “| » storm is on—the sform is on! ; | Mrs. F. Yes, you said that afore. Now go on and tell the rest. ; , Mr. J. In common parlance, ‘I’m broke.” Our money is swept away—ali gone—all! Not a penny left, and in a few days the red flag will wave over our dwelling. é i 4 Mrs. J. (Sinking down on a chair.) Ob, dear! is this ; true? $s 3 R. (Aside.) If that’s the case I am in a vewy uncomfort- ’ able pwedicament. E. Oh, papa, you do not mean what you say! You can- 4 j P not mean ‘that we have left our proud position and become oe « F beggars. Mr. J. That's it! that’s it! Beggars! beggars! beggars! a But it is fortunate for you that you are engaged. Randolph Bee will save you from the whirlpool of destruction. R. .I—l—er—I believe I shall wetire. Mrs. F. You don’t mean that you are goin’ to run away right in the middle of the misery and distress? ; HK. (Pleadingly.) Oh, Randolph, you will not forsake me! R. Well, weally—that is, you see, I would shwink fwom marwying into a family of beggaws, you know. Cireum- stances altaw cases, don’t cher know? ies: Maus. F. (Going up to RANDOLPH ) You—you baboon— * worser’n that—you’re a polecat! Run away from your gal jist because her father has lost his money! Now would be the time to show your manliness. What are you, anyhow? al Why, you’te the meanest critter on the face of the earth. . You are a despisable being, and you ought to be kicked out of e* the town. F R. Weally it isa vewy distwessing case, but I belong to one of the first families, and I would swink fwom marwying into a family of beggaws—don’t cher know? Yes, I shall wetire. (Moves toward the door.) WV. Mrs. F. (Springing forward and clutching him by the coat- a4 tail.) Stop! halt! Areyou— (RANDoPH frees himself from : Mrs. F. and hastens out, L.) E. (Sinking down on a chair.) Oh, dear! he’s gone and I am alone! Mrs. 'F. - Tut, tut, child! I wouldn’t make any fuss over that monkey. He’s not worth as much powder as would blow him to Halifax. _E. Oh, my heart is broken! Mrs. F. No, it isn’t. J wouldn’t break my heart about a pusillanimous pug dog. M. No, Enola, I wouldn’t give him a thought. Let him gol THE WIDOW’S MIGHT. AIC5 Mr. J. Emeline, can you stand up under the blow? Mrs. J. Yes, my husband, Iam ready to take my place at your side, no difference what may be your position im life.” Mr J. Spokenlike atrue woman! Brave heart! | I feared the blow would crush you. I felt that for myself I could endure it, but I shuddered for you and the children. Mrs. F. Do you mean to say you've lost yer fortin, an’ have got to move out 0’ this purty place? Mr. J. That is the truth, Aunt Jemima, I’ve failed in business from no fault of mine, and as I’m an honest man, I shall give up everything to my creditors—everything, and go forth from here a broken man. ee M. Have you no friends to help you? You have always helped others in their time of trouble; will none come for- ward, now, in your time of need, to help you? Mr. J. Notone! I have gone to one after the other to loan me only ten thousand dollars, to tide me over this emer- gency, but not a man of all I have time and again befriended will now even put their names on my paper, so that the bank can come to my relief. It has been a bitter lesson of ingratitude and desertion. No, we must make up our minds to the worst and leave this dear home, and go forth to com- mence life over again. (Sighs.) Mrs. F. (Going up to him,) Peter, you was the nephew of my Hezekiah, an’ he an’ you was always ready to help one another. D’ye think, if Hezekiah was alive now, he’d not gin ye, out an’ out, the ten thousand dollars ye so sorely need? Mr. J. If he bad it to spare, I know he would. : Mrs. F. Well, Peter, I’m jest Hezekiah’s substertoot, now; an’ in his name I presents ye that much money, an’ more, too, if it is needed. So cheer up an’ face yer creditors with a proud smile, as yer oughter. Mr. J. (Grasping one hand, while Mrs. J. seizes the other.) Jemima, do ye mean it? Mrs. J. Can you be so good? Mrs. F. In course I mean it; an’ it’s not being so very good, seein’ as how | have ten times that much now in bank. — They struck ile, Peter, on the old Beaver Creek farm; an it’s doin’ as Hezekiah would have me do, to see you through this trouble; so no thanks at all, except ye bless Hezekiah. : M. (Advancing and placing arm around Mrs. F.) You dear—dear aunty; how I love you! : E. (Coming forward hesitantly and standing by MARy.) And, aunty, can I be forgiven for my rudeness? Mrs. F. Oh, never mind all that, child. If you’ll bounce that ere baboon, it’ll be all right. E. Oh, I see things now so clearly—so differently, that I will scorn him hereafter, and all like him. You have taught ; ‘THE DIME DIALOGUES. Peter’ s child, an’ no child of his should worship a man for the clothes he wears, which is about all there is of these city ‘snobs, I guess. But, I say: just now Aunt Jemima is wange one thing more’n you’ve given her. Mr. J. Yes, Jemima, what is it? Mrs. J. Yes, what is it? Mrs. F. It’s grub /—jest a good square mea, fer I’m that ungry I can eat an uncooked sassage. “(All laugh. The girls dance around her, Purar hugs her, while Mrs. J. hastens away, inne at the door.) “Mrs. J. What shall it be? Aut. GRUB—GRUB—GRUB! (Curtain.) ————_ <9 —__—__1 : eens A DEVELOPER; eG + oR, THLE sar OF THE PROMOTER IS NOT ALWAYS EASY. FOR FIVE MALES. ee Promoter, followed by Jonus, Smrrn and RoBrNson.) ROMOTER. I tell you, gentlemen, there’s millions in it— millions! It’s none of your “thousand dollar pockets of profit a hundred thousand dollars invested, but the reverse—a dred thousand dollar return for every thousand dollarg ted.” ne Sura. I say, na naybor, won’t you take a leetle off’n that? P. Not a dollar, sir;—not a dollar! For every thousand u put in the scheme, 1’ll guarantee a hundred thousand. Jones. You'll guarantee it, eh? safety. ee nsible names; is that what you will do? is that the ante to our call? me the best lesson of my life, ad: one I certainly never shall for See ee ; £-Pmi glad on it, daughter—very glad on it. You’ re Born Grris. Oh, what is it, aunty? Oe > ‘Certainly! Dead sure thing, so I can guarentee it witty a NsoN. How guarantee? Put up money, or security, DEVELOPING A. DEVELOPER. 19 surance security enough? Am IJ not a person of honor? Do you suppose I would deceive you? No, never! If I give you my guarantee, then you are safe. My honor, my estate are better than bonds or other men’s names, J. Of what does your estate consist? Is it lands, bonds, stocks, mortgages, mines, water rights or inheritances? $8. Or, mebbe it’s hosses, an’ hogs, an’ a half interest in 4 distillery like my Ole Uncle Jehial—who’s a howlin’ Methodis’ in Ohio when his distillery is in Mlinoy. P. Gentlemen,thisisallirrelevant. It isnot business. Let us come direct to the point. (Unrolls big paper on which %8 drawn, in heavy lines, a lake and river running from the lake.) Here you have the great enterprisé! That lake is one thou- isand seven hundred and sixty-nine feet above the sea level. ‘This river is its natural and only outlet, and, as the distance from the sea is but one hundred and eight miles, the water power in that river is almost incalculable. The scheme, there- fore, which I have most carefuliy matured, but have kept as a profound secret for purposes which you can well under- stand— 8. Say, pardner, I don’t see it. P. Don't see it? Well, Mr. Smith, I am in a position ‘to make you see it, because, as I say, | am now ready 1o develop the.vast enterprise; but, as preliminary to divulging to you gentlemen of means the scheme, it is essential that we first form acompany, with a nominal capital of sixty thousand dollars—you three to put up ten thousand each— 8, An’-yeou? P. Why, as originator and promoter I will retain the other half, of course; how else am I to be recompensed for my ; plans work and ideas? ** J. Well, what else? 'p~. Why, with this nominal capital of thirty thousand dol- lars actually paid; in, we will organize and corporate the Eureka Headwater Manufacturing and Milling Company, You, Robinson, shall be president; you, Jones, shall be vice- president; you, Smith, shall be secretary; I will be treasurer; each shall draw a yearly salary of five thousand dollars, §. Good scheme! Twenty thousand dollars a year. fer us four, an’ nothin’ to do but talk water-power, swap hosses an’ eat big dinners. I’m in for that—you bet! P. All that in good time, my friends: First, it is essential to put up the thirty thousand, which, as treasurer, I wall de- posit in the Occident Bank. Then we will at once organize and incorporate, and immediately proceed to get out a beauti- fully lithographed map and projection of the grand water motor enterprise, and, opening a splendid suite of offices in the Magnificent Building, will so advertise the superb opportunity to secure a’fortune by a thousand-dollar investment, that in a RDO ET UPL TOLERATE RR AT Om nee 20 ; THE DIME \DIALOGUES. month’s time we will have one hundred thousand dollars jn bank to our credit. J.. ‘Um! Who owns the lake? P. Why, nobody owns the lake! Who ever heard of any body owning Lake Superior, or Lake Michigan, or Lake Erie? What a question | $. Yaas, an’ the fish in the ]ake—who ever hearn tell of them bein’ owned by anybody? P., Exactly! R. But, the river: you have no right to it, without pur- chase and land possession along its course. P. Poof! It’s all a wilderness now, along its whole Jength, and what owner of land in that wilderness will not be only teo glad to give us a full half of his front if we will guarantee the lining of that stream with one continuous row of factories, mills and warehouses, with cities every ten miles? Why, sir, every man of them would just throw up his hat at sucha charce for a fortune. §. To be sure, an’ hold us in everlast’n’ remembrance. R. But, what if the land-owners don’t give us one-half of the river-front—what then? P. What then? Why, condemn the land, 10 be sure! Being invested with supreme corporate rights for public purposes, to utilize the now waste forces of nature, the right of condem- nation would be unquestioned, as for a railroad, or canal, or highway—we paying therefor just its primary or w ilderness value—a mere bagatelle! (Loftily.) J. And ail this for thirty thousand dollars? P. Certainly! The main thing is not the money, but the ~ idea, sir—the idea! . There is the real value, and that | give as my half of the scheme. You ought to be everlastingly grate- ful for such a possession at such terms. The nominal capital stock, for organizing purposes, is only sixty thousand dollars, as I said; but as soon as we are organized under the act of incorporation, we will at once name the real capical stock as one million dollars, and proceed to sell shares of $1,000 each ~ at par the first year, and after that at a big premium. (Hnter Brown.) Brown. Hilloa! what’s up? Why, if here isn’t Professor Lippy, too? (PRomotER shows signs cf trepidation.) Well, this 7s a happy meeting! (PRomMovTER 7s raking for the door, when BROWN puts hand on his shoulder.) Ob, don’t leave us, professor; 1 want you! What have you been up to now? Another one of your schemes, 1 suppose. §. Yaas, the Eureka Headwater Manufacturing and Mill- ing Company—capi ai stock one million dollars. B. Ha! ha! same old scheme! The professor has already organized it in three different States and decamped with the DEVELOPING A DEVELOPER, | 21 * paid-in capital of thirty thousand dollars; wasn’t that the sum named? 8. Yeou don’t say! Why, professor, yon’reabrick! Give us yer hand! (Tries to shake hands, bit PROMOTER refuses.) Oh, now, ye needn’t feel so bad about it! Why, man,.[ see’d through yeou all the time, an’ was a-goin’ to propose to substi- tute the idear of a brass mine, jist usin’ yeour cheek fer the mine. See? ; R. If this is all true, this man is a most accomplished liar and scoundrel. B. Just so; and he has so many imitators, in high places, that, if all got their. deserts, the State Prisons would have to be enlarged to twice their present size. J. Well, he certainly did make the scheme look plausible and inviting. B. Yes, these promoters allcan do that; it’s their business, you know, to manufacture something out of nothing, and, as a rule, they are adepts in that. S$. Which the same is true. I never yet met one on’em & that didn’t make me larf at his skill in making a lie seem jist like Gospel truth. R. And, the worst of it is, they find plenty of employ by the big scoundrels in all the cities whose great fortunes are made by the schemes which such rogues as the professor, here, are hired to work. B. Which is very true, my friend, very true, as all offi- cers of the law well know. If it wasn’t for the so-called ‘‘operators ” on Wall street not one in one hundred of these bogus schemes would ever see the light, and therefore the oc- cupation of such fellows. as the professor would be gore; there would be no promoters of Eureka enterprises. Buf, come, professor, I guess we'll now make you doa. little ser- vice for the State. (Hutt, holding the Promoter by the shoulder.) 8. I say, boys, let’s go and celebrate! Yeou see, we've made ten thousand dollars apiece, and orter feel mighty happy over it. Mou’t ’a’ made more, I s’pose, ef we'd run out a millyun ov stock, fer the perfesser would ’a’ worked it off, you bet; but, seein’ as we've saved only thirty thousand, I move we declare a dividend of two and a half per cent., an’ give the Lick telescope fellers a microscope to investigate the vermin that infests our business bodies, Let’s go an’ see the Big Injun] ; (Hueunt.) “THE DIME DIALOGUES. A MUCH-NEEDED INSTANCE; oR, THANKSGIVING WITH A MORAL. haracters :—Mins. Firearms; ee Ropers, her niece ¢ : Mrs. Miu1s, @ poor widow, —A farm-house kitchen. Murs. Hrears, seated, mith her knitting. ree, Sacre Two days to Thanksgivin’, an’ here I be, ettin’ all alone, not a livin’ soul in the world to care what be- mes of me, or what I do. or don’t do.. Yit I s’pose folks’ll xpect me to go to meetin’ same’s usual, Thursday mornin’, 5 give thanks same’s other people. I can’t do it, an’ I won't, re now! Folks may say what they’re a mind to, I ver have been a hypocrite, an’ 1 don’t propose to begin bein’ I don’t fecl like givin’ no thanks; an’ I ain't a-goin’ ‘(Enter Krvry.) Jones ; “Why, who were you talkin’ to, Aunt Kate? I ou must be havin’ company. 1. The company 0’ my thoughts, 1 guess, Set I can’t stay, aunt. I just come over to ask you to our for Thanksgivin’ dinner. We've gota perfectly splen- lid fat turkey, an’ mother’s b’en makin’ -some'o’ her punkin - pies, an’ I reckon you know what they've like. ones de k: don’t want no Thanksgivin’ dinner, turkey or (Aghast. ) Don’ t—want— no—Thanksgivin’ —dinner! V hy. Aunt Kate! eo That’s. what I sed, and that’s what I mean. I n't no thanks to give,.an’I ain’t goin’ to purtend I have. What do you mean? Hain’t we all got suthin’ to be for, even ef ’tain’t much? H. P’raps you have. J hain’t. ‘ : Dear aunt, can’t you think of some one thing? I know ’ ve seen a heap o’ trouble, an’ sorrer; but then, it seems ae to say you have nuthin’ to thank God for? P’raps it do seem so to you, but when you’ veo o see € pete you cared for, or thought, — a A MUCH-NEEDED INSTANCE. 98 about in this werld, taken from you, as J hey, mebbe you'll change your mind. Is there a livin’ soul cares a snap o’ their _ fingers for me, I’d like to know? K. You know we all care for you, Aunt Kate, an’ would feel right down bad to hev anythin’ onhappy come to you. Mrs. H. You think you do, but ef 1 was to be took this very night, how long do you s’pose you’d-care?. I felt bad enough last Thanksgivin’, goodness knows, with my husban’ an’ only son taken from me, but I did hev my,darter left, an’ her sweet little child, an angel on airth, ef ever there was one. An’ now even them is taken, an’ I’m all alone, alone! Do you expect me to thank God for that, Kitty Rodgers? Answer me that! K. No, Aunt Kate, of course not. That don’t stand to reason. But, there ave other blessings, even to those as deso- late ‘as you be. Mrs. H. Blessings, indeed! K. You hev a home of your own, an’ all the comforts you ~~ need, Mrs. H. Much good my home does me, I'm sure, without’ a body to live in it but me. K. You hev your health— Mrs. H. Health! Folks are alluz pratin’ about health / Ef they can’t think of- anythin’ else to say, they'll tell you you’ve got your health! What does your health amount to when you'd rather be dead than livin’? I tell you 1 don’t feel one bit thankful or grateful for anythin’, an’ you kin call.me wicked ef you want to; it’s the truth, K. Well, I’m awful sorry for you, an’ that’s a fact, but 1 hope you YW change your mind an’ keep Thanksgivin’ artery all, I must be goin’, mother’s waitin’ for me. (Hatt Kirry.) Mrs. OH. Well, there, now, I expect she’ll tell everybody Y m a heathen, but I can’t help it. My feelin’s is my own, an’ I can’t alter them to suit other folks’s w ay o’ thinkin’. I ain’t thankful, and that is all there is about it, an’ until I can feel thankful’ for somethin’, I ain’t goin’ to eat no turkey an’ punkin pie. (Knock heard at door.) Come int (Enter Mrs. Mirus.) Mrs. H. (Rising and pulling forward a chair.) Why, how ~ d’ye do, Mis Mills? I hain’t seen you in along while. I-. heern you was sick, an’ I meant to hev called round to see’ | you before now, but, somehow or another, I didn’t seem to gitat it. How’s things goin’ with you now? Mrs. Mrurs. (Cheerfully.) Oh, they’re not so bad but wahat they. might be worse. I’m thankful to be able to be | around ag’ in. You see we git dre’dful behindhand when T° m laid up, an’ I feel pretty blue when I look at the children an’ think 1 ain’t able to even so much as give ’emachicken for 24 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Thangsgivin’; but then, as long as we don’t actually go hun- gry, | ought not to complain, an’I don’t mean to, Mrs. lf. For the land's sake, Mis Mills, 1 should hope there wasn’t no danger of you an’ the children goin’ hungry? Mrs. M. It wouldn’t be the first time ef we did, but we hey plenty, such as’tis, to cat just now, thank the Lord! an’ whatever we may hey for dinner Thanksgivin’ Day, we'll eat with a thankful heart, I trust. Mrs. H. Hungry! To think of you an’ those poor cbil- dren actually goin’ hungry, when some around you hev more’n they know what to do with! Ishouldn’t think you’d feel as though you had very much to be thankful for. Mrs. M. I kev felt sometimes as though things were goin’ ag’in’ me, but I won’t let myself feel that way very long. When poor Henry was taken from me, I thought there was nuthin’ left worth livin’ for. An’ when, arter his death; we found that his affairs were so mixed up that there wouldn’t even be a roof leftover my head to call my own, I thought that was the last straw. (Puts her handkerchief to her eyes.) Mrs. H. There, there, Mis*Mills, now don’t cry! J can feel for you, for I, too, hev lost. my husband, an’ even every child I kad in the world. I was thinkin’ on it when you dropped in, an’ sayin’ I hadn’t no cause to give thanks, Mrs. M. You'd oughter give thanks for bein’ secure in a home of your own, an’ needin to never give a thought as to what’s to become of you, an’ others dependin’ on you. That’s a r’ale blessing. Mrs, H. I begin to think ’tis, Mrs. M. An’ your son was a comfort an’ a blessin’ to you as long as he lived.. You never kuew what ’twas to have him brought home to you drunk, an’ you dependin’ on him as a mother does on her only son. You know the facts, about ' my poor boy, an’ there’s no use my makin’ b’lieve you don’t, so I kin speak from my heart. Did your mother-heart ever ache with agony at the sight of your only son a drunkard? _ ‘Mrs. H. (Harnestly.) No, it never did, an’ I can say “Thank God for it!” Mrs. M. Then you’ve never drained the cup o’ sorrow to the bottom, as I hev, J lived to bless the day my boy died, an’yhe died, truly repentin’ his weakness an’ wrong doin’, so I feel every Thanksgivin’ Day that comes round, I can honestly thank the Lord that He saved my son-an’ put him beyond the reach of temptation and sin. An’ I can also thank the Lord that Jam spared to my other children, an’ that we kin all keep together. Oh, yes, 1 hev much to be thankful for. Ihev quite a job o’sewin’ to do for Squire _ Smith’s family, an’ that will keep us along nicely for a while yit. ‘Mrs. H. An’ after that?, Fs Salhi ay A MUCH-NEEDED INSTANCE. 26° Mrs. M. The Lord will provide! Mrs. H. How blind I’ve been! . Mis Mills, you've taught mea lesson I sha’n’t soon forgit. Mrs. M. Me, taught you a lesson? What on airth be you a-talkin’ about? ; Mrs. H. I’ve b’ena wicked, ongrateful creetur’, losin’ sight o’ my many actual blessin’s in thinkin’ only on my grief an’ sorrer, never stoppin’ to think how much worse off some other folks might be. Here I be, with all I want to eat, an’ drink, an’ wear, complainin’ away an’ blamin’ the Lord, while you, half-starvin’ with your children, eat crusts and are thank- ful. Iam ashamed of myself; I be, truly. Mrs. M. I’m sure we kin all find plenty to give thanks for ef we would only think on our marcies. But, dear me! I must be goin’. I hedn’t no idee of stoppin’ when I set out, but I’m awful glad I did ef it done you any good. It must be a turrible feelia’ to think you haven’t a thing to be thank- fulfor, J alluz tell my girls to s’arch for the blessin’s of each day an’ blessin’s will come to them. (Rises to go.) Mrs. H. Now, Mis Mills, just want you an’ the girls to come an’ take Thanksgivin’ dinner with me, an’ we'll all render thanks together. I’ve set my heart on it an’ sha’n’t take ‘‘no” for an answer; so you may as well say you'll come. Mrs. M: You're awful good, an’ I’m sure I'd be right pleased to come. My! The children’ll be tickled to death, so I’ll say ‘‘ Yes,” an’ thank you. But I re’ly must be goin’. Good-by till Thursday! (Hxit.) Mrs. H. Just to think o’ them poor things havin’ no Thanksgivin’ dinner, an’ I plenty able to give it to ’em. Kate Higgins, you ev got lots to be thankful for, an’ you’re a wicked woman ef you don’t say so. But here ’tis, only two days to Thanksgivin’ an’ not a thing done! I'll hev to do some tali flyin’ around. I'll go right over to Kittie’s an’ see ef they’ye got another turkey fatted up ready to kill. An’ I must go down to the store an’ git some cranberries an’ raisins before Jones gits the best of everything sold. Like as not he'll be allout. ’I'would sarve me right for puttin’ it off; but, anyhow, I’ve had a much-néeded lesson. (Starts to leave the room and curtain falls.) Hi DIME DIALOGUES, THE HAPPY UNDERSTANDING ; OR, _ CIRCUS VARSUS ARITHMETIC. Characters: —Waitim Mason, Dick LiawrmeartT, Mrs. Mason, Mrs. SreapyGrinp. ‘Scenn.—Room. Wire seated with book, Witt. Oh, this tiresome lesson! Why do boys have to study all the time, while they are little, when they want to play? And when I am done with lessons, I shall be a man mad. cannot play. I wish I was a heathen, so I would not need to study. I don’t wonder the savages eat people who try -to ‘teach them things. I would, too. ees (Enter Drox.) “ Dick. Hello! what is the matter? You look as glum as OaGs 2 : _ I have to learn this multiplication table, and I was ing about savages eating missionaries because they tried to teach them. 1 do not feel like studying, / D. No wonder, this bright morning, ‘‘Oh, multiplication, it is a vexation, Division is twice as bad; _ The Rule of Three doth puzzle me, ' And Fractions made me mad.” : | W. MammasaysI must be perfect in multiplication before Icommence at school again. She has gone foradrive,andif. = I do not Jearn just so much, I cavnot go on the excursion next week.” I know she means to leave me at home, but I do want to go so much. j D. Why, do you think she would rather leave you at — home? My mamma always takes me, -W. She told the minister that I was so smart, and wide- ke, that it took all her time to look after me; but when she — returned from a trip, she declared she had only the recollec- ions of a very nauglity little boy and the headache to pay her — er trouble, and that she wished she had not gone at all. I wouldn’t bother to learn the lesson at all. Let her go ‘You can play with me while she is gone. eat ; But I du want to go, so I must begin to study. (Con- book.) ‘' Three times three are nine.” THE HAPPY UNDERSTANDING. oF D. Well, I want to play circus. I know the old multica- tion like a top, and I can say it over for you, and we can play at the same time. W. I am afraid mamma will not like it. ‘‘ Three times four are twelve.” D. Oh, she need not know anything about it. That is the only way we can get along with mothers who will not let us play anything. W. What will we play with? ‘ Six times seven, are forty- eight; seven times eight are fifty-six.’ D, We wiil make a tent first; set all the common chairs in a circle, and spread a big shawlover them. (Z’hey place chairs tn circle.) W. Here is mamma’s shaw], but we inust be very careful of it. D. Yes, of course. Do not forget your lesson; ‘‘ Four times seven are twenty-eight ”—or twenty-five, I almost forget which. W. I will get the book and see. D. Ob, never mind; let us fix our circus first; then you can study. W. How many are nine times four? D._ Oh, about thirty-five, I guess. Now, if I had another shawl, I would throw it over this big chair for an elephant. This easy- -chair will do for a holy cow, and the footstool for a baby elephant. I ought to have a holy calf. Isn’t there another footstool? W. Idonot seeany. Four times eight are twenty-eight. What will you have the lounge for? D. That will do for the hiphippoti, in course! I wish our tent was larger. Could you not find anotker shawl? W. Perhaps! Here, spread the rug over the little rocking- chair for a tiger. D. Obj say! You run out and find your papa’s wolf-robe, and we can have a lion, and we ean roar and pretend it is a real lion. . W. Well! (Glances out of the window.) Oh, gracious! Mamma is coming! She is almost here, and the minister's wife is with her. D. Never mind the robe, then. You will roar eaough. W. Help straighten up! Mamma will be furious. D. I cannot stay. I ought not to be disturbing your les- sons. W. If you gol shall have to fight it out alone. Oh, don’t 0! D. Wouldn’t stay for a new hat. (Hivit.)\— W. Oh, what will she say. (Looks around room tn dis, may.) Eleven times seven are— Here goes] (Gets under lounge.) 28 THE DIME DIALOGUES (Enter Mrs. MaAson., Mrs. Mason. (Lookingaround.) Did ever! That dread- ful boy! Hasn’t been studying at all! Oh, I’ll punish him! and, besides, he shall not go on the excursion. But, I must fix up; Mrs. Steadygrind, the minister’s wife, will soon be here. (Fives up room. Hnier Mrs. 8.) Come right in, Mrs. Steadygrind. Take a seat on the lounge; that is the, most comfortable. (Mrs. 8. takes seat onlounge) As I was telling you, my Willie isa great comfort to me. He is so studious, so cons.derate of my feelings that I can’t do enough for the child. Excuse me a moment, I'll go out and see where he is. (fizit.) W. (Crawling out from under lounge.) And 1 guess I'l go out and sce where she is. She'll lick me, Mrs. Steady- grind, awful, just cause Iam a boy and like to play and don’t like to study. (Reenter Mrs. M. Mrs. 8. draws Wriie down at her side and puts arm. around him.) Mrs. M. Why, if there isn’t my dear boy! Willie, my child, where were you? re I was under the—under the— Mrs. SrEADyYGRIND. Under this lounge, where he was in bid- ing for fear of punishment. Being,as you say,a bright litle boy, he naturally prefers play to study, just as all bright little chaps do, and ought to do to make healthy, spirited, indépencent- minded men. 'These studious children, who sit humped up in the house all day poring over lessons, or reading what are called serious books, make a sickly race, at best. Half work and half play is a good motto, my dear friend. The wise. just parent will see to it that the children of the household are given ample time for healthful play, and bave everything done to render the home life so Celightful that they will think of it always with loving remembrance, If this was my little boy I would be happy in seeing him so; ard I know that to please me he would study when I thought it proper for. him to do so, and thus grow up sound and active in mind and body. What say, Willie? W. Indeed—indeed I would study half the time, and if mamma only thought as you do about little boys, I’m sure I'd be the best boy in town. Mrs. 8. (Rising and leading W118 to his mother.) Is it a bargain, my dear Mrs. Mason? Mrs. M. Yes, it’s a bargain. If Willie wil! become the ~ best boy in town he sball have half the time for proper recrea- tion, and his mamma will sce to it that he has a happy boy- hood. (All taking hands, advance.) Good little boys make good mammas. W. And good mammas make happy homes. _ Mrs. 8. And happy homes make good men and women, : ; (Curtain.) e mo o<« t Se er See aie eet eer THE TRAGEDY OF THE TEN LITTLE BOYS. 29 THE TRAGEDY OF THE TEN LITTLE BOYS, A NEW VERSION, | (Curtain rises, disclosing ten very little boys sitting on a school | bench, and reciting in unison, THACHER present.) is i Ten little schoolboys sitting in a line, | One fell off, then there were nine. a | (One falls off the bench and runs away, while the remainder get ; up and march in line across the stage, reciting :) : aq Nine little schoolboys, each with a new slate, One dropped his and broke it, so there were eight. (One drops his slate, then runs crying off the stage, while the rest stand in @ row and recite *) Right little schoolboys counting up to eleven, Oue got all mixed up, so then there were only seven. (One tries to count, but fails, and retires to the bench as if in dis- grace.) Seven little schoolboys playing naughty tricks; One got caught, and then there were six. (They pinch and pull each other, when the THACHER pounces down on them, catches one, puts a dunce-cap on him and places him in the corner. The remamder seat themselves, cross-legged, on thé floor, and. study diligently, a few moments, then recite :) Six little schoolboys, busy as bees in a hive, One proved a drone, and so there were five. (They discover that one of their number is falling asleep, instead of studying, so they pounce upon him and carry him out, then " come back, form a ring, and recite :) iy Five little schoolboys wishing there were mote, Be One gets his toe stepped on, and then there were four. ty (One limps out of the circle and off the stage, while the rest jump around and sing :) Four little sckoolboys full of fun and glee; One thinks it’s time to go, and so there are three, (One points to the clock, picks up his hat and books, and runs out. The others recite :) Three little schoolboys! My! what a few! If another goes away there’ll only be two} 80 THE DIME DIALOGUES. (They stand and look at one wnother for a minute, then one tip- wes out. The others play at leap-frog across the stage, and _ recite 2) Two little schoolboys can have lots of fun, Unless one goes away and leaves only one. (One skips out of the door, leaving the other standing discon- ‘ solately in middle of stage.) One little schoolboy! Wish I had a gun! I'd snap it so, at my head! Then there’d be none! (Snaps off an imaginary gun and falls to the ground.) (Curtain.) HIS TRAINING-DAY ; OR, HOW TO CURE A GROWLER. FOR ONE MALE AND TWO FEMALES. Scene I.—Dining-room, with table set for dinner. Mrs. Hor- WELL seated, sewing. Door opens. Enter her husband, brusquely, who flings himseif into a chatr. Mr Hoiweuu. Here, Jennie, come and take off my shoes, and bring me my slippers! I am deuced tired. (Mrs. Hon- WELL hastens tu get his stippers from under the lounge, but can- not find them) Wels. why don't you take all night? Mrs. H J cannot tind them, dear. Where did you put them this morning? Mr. H. (Loudly.) How dol know? That’s your business. (Here his wife pulls them out from behind the coal-scuttle, and proceeds. to put them on., Mr. H. not helping himself’ in the least.) Mrs. Il. (Seating herself again.) Any particular news to- bE _ day, Arthur? How is the Butler affair coming on? I am so ie! anxious to hear. ar Mr. H. HowdoI know? Read it for yourself. (Z'osses paper in her lap.) This room isn’t very warm, I must say. » Can’t you keep a better fire? (Mrs. H. utters @ weary sigh.) What are you sighing in that way for? Mrs. H. Jam tired, Arthur. Mr H. (Contemptuously.) I shouid like to know what you 7 sree a oan a ay asec, “e sate Se HIS TRAINING-DAY. 81 have done to make you tired? If you were in my place, now, you might plead fatigue. But, that is always the way with women. They imagine when they have done alittle house- work that they are worn out. Mrs. H. Ihave been on my feet all day, until just before you came in. However, let us change the subject fora pleasanter one. Did you know Edith Barnes was to be married soon? Mr. H. No, I didn’t. Iam sorry for the fellow who is to marry her. Mrs. H. Why, Edith isa lovely girl. Any man might be proud to win her, Mr. H. Pity there weren't more like her, then! Say, isn’t dinner about ready? Iam as bungry as a bear. Mrs. H. Yes, it is all ready. I’ve just got to broil the steak, I thought you would want to rest a little first. (Hatt, hurriedly.) Mr. H. (After a little pause.) Do hurry up. How slow you are. (Mrs. H. brings the dinner in as guick as she can, and they sit down.) Mr. H. (Tasting his meat.) Bah! what tough meat. Why do you get stuff Jike that? And it isn’t half donc! Mrs. H. You hurried meso. And it isthe meat you sent up this morning. Mr. H. Well, Pll give that butcher a piece of my mind to-morrow: You will have to scramble me some eggs, Jennie; I cannot eat this. Mrs. H. Very well, dear; it will only take a minute, (She leaves the room and soon returns with the plate of eggs, and the meal proceeds, he grumbling and finding fault with every- thing.) Mr. H. (Finally rising and lighting a cigar, while his wife proceeds to clear the table.) Well, I guess ll go over to Smith’. and have a game of whist. Mrs. H. Oh, Artbur, don’t go out again this evening. I get solonely. Won’t you stay home and have a game of “halma”’ with me? Mr. H. No, not thisevening. It’s too slow here. I want a little fun after my day’s work. : Mrs, H. (Aside.) Maybe I do, too. (Aloud.) Don’t be late, then, for J ghall sit up for you. Mr. H. No, you needn’t, for I don’t know what time I will be in. Go to bed as soon as you please. Ta-tal (Puts on his hat and goes out, slamming the door behind him. Mrs. HH. finishes clearing the table, and sits down at her sewing, The door opens sofily and her friend, Eprrn BARNES, comes tn, steals up behind her and puts her arms around her neck.) Mrs. H. Oh, Edith! how you startled me! How did you - get in? How glad Tam to see you! Eprrg, I found the outside door open, so came {n and 82 THE DIME DIALOGUES. took you unawares. But, where is Arthur, and why that sad countenance, my dear? (Draws a chawr beside Mrs. H., and takes her hand.) Mus. B. Oh, Edith, I am so unhappy! E. What is the matter? Have you and Arthur been quar- reling? Mrs. H. (Bitterly.) Yes, if*one can make a quarrel, Arthur gets more unendurable every day that goes by, and I don’t know what I am going to do with him, He never used to be so, but now he scolds, scolds from morning till night. Nothing suits him, and his wife must be a slave to all his whims and caprices. I have stood it all patiently, never giving back word for word, or showing in any way how ke hurts me, I know he does not mean to be unkind, but he is: cruelly so, and the habit is growing on him daily. I cannot stand it much longer. #. You surprise me much, JI thought Arthur was a kind, © loving husband. Mrs. H. And so he was until a few months ago, E. (Indignantly.) Well, there is no excuse for it. IVsa shame for Arthur to treat his wife so, when she-is all that a loving and devoted wife can be. If I were you, Jennie, L would teach Mr. Arthur a lesson. ‘ Mrs. H. But, how can I do it? E.. In this way: 1 know, dear, what an abhorrence you have to disputes or hard words of any kind; but the.only way to bring this husband of yours to his senses, is to treat him evactly as he treats you. When he scolds, scoid back at Lim; when he finds fault, tell him he can get some one else to look after him if he don’t like the way you do things. He will be a much amazed and chagrined young man, or I miss my guess. Take my advice and tryit. He will soon eat humble- ie. e Mrs. H. Oh, Edith, how canI? E. If you want to reform your husband and he happy again, you must. Mrs. H. I believe I will. Something has got to be done, and your plan seems a feasibie one, for he is so used to having me take all his scoldings as a matter of course. I have been too patient with him. Thcre is where the trouble lies, no doubt. E. Ihave noticed how worried and unhappy you bave been, lately, and have wondered at the cause. But I trust all will be serenc again, soon. I must go, now, as Frank will be waiting for me. Good-night, dear! 1 shall expect a full rehearsal of the temper and tantrums of Mr, Arthur Hol- well. (They both laugh. Mrs. WH. accompanies Eprrx to the door and curtain falls) i i 1 ; ae i ere HIS TRAINING-DAY. Scmne II.—Same as before. It is the morning following Epiry’s visit. Mrs. H. setting the table for breakfast. (Enter Mr. H. with a face like a thunder-cloud. Mrs. H. does not look up or pay any attention to him.) Mr. H.. Why under the sun, Jennie, don’t you keep my things in betier order? Not a clean handkerchief in the drawer, and my new blue tie nowhere to be found. Where is it? Mrs. H. (Angrily) How do I know? It’s none of my business where your things are. (Slams a dish down on the table and goes out into the kitchen.) Mr. H. Well, here’s a pretty pass! Can’t have-a civil answer to a civil question! I wonder what is the matter with Jennie? J never knew her to act this way before. (Re-enter Mrs. 1.) Mrs. H. Come, now, and eat your breakfast, and no snarl- ing either. I’m inahurry to get through. (Mr. H. regards her in amazed silence and sits down, but soon breaks out again.) Mr. H. . This bread isn’t half toasted, and you know I like mine well browned. Mrs. H. Go and toast it over, then, if it doesn’t suit your lordship! Pass me those eggs. (He hands her the dish, and ques on eating his unbrowned wast.) Now go to the stove and get some hot coffee. Mr. H. That is not my business. Do it yourself. What do you mean talking to me so? Mrs. H. (Coolly.) Very well. You can go without it if you choose. (Mr. H. finally picks up his cupand starts for the kitchen with it.) Here, take mine, too. (He jerks the cup from her hand and disappears.) Oh, I certainly shall laugh, or cry, if this goes on much longer. But, it is working well. I must keep it up! I wish Edith could see me now. (Mr. H. returns with the cups, and they continue their breakfast.) Mr. H. (Rising.) Iam going to bring a friend of mine up to dinner to-night. I want you to have a nice one. Mrs. Hf. Indeed, you will do nothing of the kind! Tam going to Edith’s this afternoon, and shall probably remain to dinner. { Mr. H. It seemsto me you are getting mighty independ- ent all of asudden. Why are you treating me this way? It doesn’t sound like you. Mrs. H. No, it doesn’t! But, even my good temper and forbearance cannot last forever. Iam tired of the way you have been treating me lately, and thought I would give you a taste of your own medicine, How do you like it? 34 THE DIME DIALOGUES. Mr. H. Do you mean to say Iam ever as cross and hate- ful as you have been this morning? Impossible! Mrs. H. (Standing before him.) Yes, that is the way you treat me morning, noon and night. Instead of the love .and care I look for and need, as all other women do, it is nothing but scolding and fault-finding, as if 1 were your servant or dog. Can’t you realize that you are killing all my love and respect for you? : Mr. H. Lavow, Jennie, 1 didn’t know I was as bad as all that. Jam sure there is no one foader or prouder of his wife than I am of you, and— Mrs. H, You take a strange way of showing it. Mrz. H. Well, I am a boor, I must acknowledge, though I have not realized it before. 1 get so worried down at the ‘office that it upsets me. But I promise you, I am going to turn over a new leaf, I don’t want my little wife to think I’m a brute, which she certainly does at present. Mrs. H. Ob, Arthur, I never thought that. (Goes and takes his hand.) Mr. H. I shall be a different man from this hour, Jennie, now that I see myself as others see me. You must help me, and when I turn bear, you can begin to growl also, and we will see who can growl the loudest. (Both laugh.) Mrs. H. You have made me so happy, Arthur! It seems like old times again. Mr. H. I must go, now, little wife, but we must celebrate _ this event in some way. I tell you what we will do: You can * meet me at the oflice at six o’clock; we will have dinner at Clarke’s, and go to the opera afterward. ‘Will that suit? Mrs. H. How lovely that will be! But, (merrily) how about the friend coming to dinner? Mr. H. And your engagement at your friend’s? (Dhey laugh and curtain falls.) aI oe ne Fearn ET $ An SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF SCANDAL, 85 THE SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF SCANDAL; oR, HUMAN NATURE IS WOMAN NATURE. FOR A NUMBER OF FEMALES, Scene I.—A parlor. Miss Eunice Currer; Amy Currer, her young sister; HANNAR JENKS, @ gossiping old maid, Hannan. They do say as young Smithers has quit drinkin’ an’ is doin’ real well. I hope it will last, but I hain’t much trust in them sudden reformatories. Miss Currpr. Are you sure that he ever did drink? H. Law, yes! Why, I seen him reelin’ home one night, druuk’s could be! Amy Currer. I have known Joe ever since we were children, and I have never known anything wrong with him, et. : z H. Oh, well, Miss Amy, you’re too young to know much about such things; an’, anyway, vou know the old sayin’ about “none is so blind as them that won’t see.” A. What do you mean? H. There! No need to bridle up so. We all know Joe’s handsome, and gay, an’ a snug little fortune to back him up, an’ a girl might do worse than take him up even if he does take a drop too much occasionally. (Rises.) I must be go- Miss C. Won't you stay to tea? H. Thanks, not this time. I tol’ mother I’d be home, an’ she’ll be expectin’ me. I wish you’d come in an’ see her, Miss Amy; a sight of you would cheer her up a bit. See you at the meetin’ to-night I s’pose? Well, good by. Born. Good-by—good-by! A. Horrid old cat! (@oes to window.) There she goes into Mrs. Baker’s to tell her that I am head over heels in love with Joe Smithers because I dared to defend him. I hate her. (Stamps her foot.) : pa Miss ©, Never mind, Amy; every one knows what her. chatter is worth. Ido think, though, it is a shame that such scandal-mongers are allowed in a civilized community—that we have to open our doors to them. A. Oh! Itis just what most people like. They are glad enough to listen as long as they are not the ones slandered. Look at Mrs: Clarke—the horrid things she said about poor. little Mrs. Gray because her husband left her, when every one 86 THE DIME DIALOGURS. ae knows that she was divorced before she married Mr. Clarke, and they say Number One couldn’t live with her. ! Miss C.. Who is gossiping, now? \ fe A. (Petulantly.) Well; it is so, and you know it; besides, | ~ fam only talking to you, anyhow. — (Goes out.) Miss C. Hannah Jeoks hit harder than she knew, Iam afraid.) My pretty Amy certainly does thinka great deal of Joe. Ido not believe a word against him, and shall not until Fs Ihave some real cause to. It is a disgrace, the way gossip ‘a and scandal fly atlarge among us. I wonder if anything could t be done to prevent it. (Thinks profoundly.) Re-enter Amy.) a 5 A. Why, Mattie, what are you so lost in thought about? en Miss C. I have it! f A. Have what? What are you talking about? : Miss C, Viidoit! Amy, Vil doit: Pll get up a society for the suppression of scandal. A. (Aghast.) Mattie? You must be gone daft, as the Trish say. Miss C. J’m not that. Yousee if I don’t mean it. A. Weill, you will only get laughed at for your pains. Such a society! Ha-ha! i Miss GC, I*shall try it, nevertheless. Let me see: I will invite a dozen or so to tea, and propose it to them, Now, who shall I ask? ‘ A. Mrs. Blunt, the minister’s wife. Miss OC. Of course—and the officers of the Ladies’ Mite Society, four more, that will make five. The ladies of the choir— A. That poor little Mrs. Gray? Miss C. Yes; and Mrs. Clarke? A. They are at daggers’ points. Miss C. Weare not supposed to know that. A. You will make a funny combination for a suppression- of-scandal society. I foresee some fun. Miss C. Amy, A. Weli, I do! Hurry up and have them come! Iam just dying to see the fun. : ioe Miss C. Amy Cutter, I am ashamed of youl eee (Curtain falls.) 4 : i ~ ‘Scune Il.—Same as first. Lois seated, with fancy-work, sew. ‘ tng, etc.) pe : Sa. Miss C. Ihave a little matter I should like to put before / ~you. My purpose in inviting you here to-day was not entirely ' _ social, but a combination of business with pleasure. —_, 3 _ Mrs. Kay. I do hope you are not going to beg for any- ge ’ SCANDAL. 7 37 SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF thing, Miss Cutter, for it is a hard winter, and we have all we can do to supply the demands on us now. Miss C. 1am not going to beg for anything but good will, and that is not an expensive article. _ A. It ought to de, it is so rare. Miss OC. Amy! Mrs. Buunt. I fear the child is too nearly right. Mrs. Gray. Oh, J don’t think so. Mrs. B. We are wandering from the subject. Miss C. I wanted your help, your co-operation in organ- izing a society for the suppression of scandal. SEVERAL, Oh, miy! Dear me! (Zic.) Mrs. Cuarke. Humph! Mrs B. A very good idea, too. Mrs. Fosrmr. I don’t believe it could be made to work. Srverau. Nor I. Mrs. B. Why not? Mrs. F. Well—because! Mxs. B. That is no reason. Mrs. C, Why don’t you say right out that you don’t be- lieve people could hold their tongues? Mrs. G. Oh, Mrs. Clarke! (Mas. CLARKE puts up her eye- glasses and stares at Mrs. Gray, who shrinks back.) Mrs. Porrs. J am with you, Miss Cutter, in this matter; but the question is, what 7s scandal? Miss C. Slander; gossip; saying unkind things about our neighbors. Mrs. Lams. Suppose ‘‘unkind things” are true? . Miss O. Then we must not repeat them; we must dis- courage others from speaking of them. Mrs. L. I am willing to become a member of such a society. Snverau. And I—and I! - Mrs. B. I move that we make Miss Cutter president of the Society for the Suppression of Scandal. Mrs. P. I second the motion. Mrs. B. The motion is made and seconded; all in favor please signify by saying ‘‘ Ay.” Aun. Ay! ‘ Mrs. B. Contrary-minded. (Silence.) The ayes have it. we society isan established fact, and you, Miss Cutter, are its president. Now, what are we to do? tss C. Oh! do, not leave the whole decision on me. 4 suppose we must bind ourselves to say nothing unkind of any one. Mrs. B. And try to discourage gossip in others. j ee Then we should have some rules for our own regu- sea and fines for any breaking of rules, say, for instance, nis, af any member makes any unkind or disparaging ~ = i a a ‘a \ 38 THE DIME DIALOGUES. remark in society, and a larger sum for outside gossip traced to a member, the amount to be decided by the society. Miss ANDREWs. What will be done with the money? Miss C. That is for the society to decide. Mrs. B. Use it for some charitable purpose, say a Christ- ~ mas dinner to some poor family, if we are guilty of a sufficient amount of gossip hefore that date. Miss A. It would be a good thing to get Hannah Jenks to join; she is about the worst gossip I know. Why, only the other day— (Several laugh.) What are you laughing at? Miss ©. Five cents fine, Miss Annie. Miss A. Why, that wasn’t anything. Every one knows‘ it is so! Mrs. B. Still it was unkind; so you are fairly caught. Miss A. (Pouting.) Well, here is my nickel. Who is treasurer? Miss C. You may take that office yourself. - Miss A. All right. Have you a ginger-jar handy for a ank. Amy, Speak of—hem—not angels, here comes Hannah Jenks this minute. You might know she would come poking around to find out what was going on. Miss A. Five cents, Amy Cutter! Amy. I would pay five cents any time to give my opinion of her.” (Enter HANNAH.) H. Well, Ideclare! Fell right into a bee’s nest, didn’t 1? You ought to hev told me you was entertainin’ this after- noon, an’ I wouldn’t hev popped in on you, so unexpected. Miss C. Won’t you stay, now you are here? H. Jf J ain’t intrudin’. Miss C. Go right up to my room and take off your things, (Heit WANNAN.) A. Of allimpertinence! ; Miss C. Never mind, dear. Mrs. B. Perhaps it is a fortunate thing. If we can en- list her in the good cause, we might have less need of our society. A. Five cents, Mrs. Blunt! Mrs. B. What for? I only spoke the truth! ; A. Well, so did I, but they made me pay up, all the same. Mrs. C. I call this ridiculous. If a grown up woman cannot pass an opinion on another without paying a fine, it’s a pity. rs. P. You can pass all the good opinions you like, Mrs. C. Humph! (Re-enter HANNA.) Miss C. Miss Jenks, we have just organized a Society for the Suppression of Slander, and we invite you to join us, - , 2% POTTS re 9: £ REET SESS eee re oe SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF SCANDAL. 39: H. You don’t say! Well now, I do think that is the best thing out. J'ine? Of course I will! I think it’s about time sumthin’ was done ‘to surpress the slander thet’s goin’ round. But, how are you goin’ to do it? ; A. Fine every one that tells or carries any slander or gos- sip, or says an unkind thing, even. H. It’s fortinit for my purse that Zain’t no gossiper. Now, there is that Maria Jones—I never did see sech a tongue as hers fer slander. She’s the wickedest, baekbitin’est— Miss A. Five cents, Miss Hanuah. H. What for? Miss A. Your opinion of Maria Jones. H. What hev you got to do with it? Miss A. Iam treasurer. H. Humph! Pretty flighty one I guess! Miss A. Five cents more for your flattering opinion of me. HH. ‘You won’t git it from me. A. Your opinion? We have it already. Miss ©. Girls, be quiet! Has any one heard how Mr. Ward is, to-day? Mrs. K. No better this morning, . What a very singular case his is! Mrs. ©. Nothing more singular than delirium tremens, and they are plural I believe. Mrs. G. Oh, no, Mrs. Clarke; you are mistaken. He is aman who was never under the influence of liquor in his life. Mrs. C. ‘Pray, how do you know? Mrs. G. He is an intimate friend of my husband’s. Mrs. C. (Shrugging her shoulders.) Birds of a feather! - SrverAL. Oh! Shame! (Hic.) Mrs. G. What do you mean? Miss C. . Ladies, you are forgetting! Mrs. G. Excuse me, Miss Cutter, but I must demand an explanation. for Mrs. ©. I should think the less explanation the better on the subject of .your husband / SpveRAL. Oh! Shame! How could you? (Hic.) Mrs. G. (Bursting into tears.) Lam going home. (Runs out, followed by Miss C.) Mrs.P. Oh, Mrs. Clarke, how could you be so cruel? H. Ishouldn’t think you, of all women, ought to say any- thing about husbands. Mrs. C. Enough! I will not stay here to be insulted’ by such a creature. I shake the dust of your society off m feet, I foresee it will be a success. As for you, Hanna Jenks, I:know where certain stories started from, and you will hear from me again. (Goes out, showing anger.) | i + 4 <. 4 . 40° THE DIME DIALOGUES. - A. Whew! I'd like to say something. I’d be willing to pay twice five cents for the sake of saying it. Mrs. B. Don’t do it, my dear. (Re-enter Miss CurrTeEr.) Miss C. So Mrs. Clarke has gone! It is just as well; for T was about to ask her todo so. Poor Mrs. Gray! I have left her up in my room. 1 did not want her to leave the house in . her present state of mind. Mrs. F. I wonder if there is any truth in the stories that are aflout regarding her husband? Mrs. P. Where there is so much smoke, there is apt to be fire. Miss A. Five cents, please! H. Of cowrse there’s fire! Pve Jong knowed that, Mr. Mott’s Pat told Maria Jones, an’ she told me, that he was seen comin’ out 0’ that bucket-shop t’other night. Miss A. Five cents more, please! Miss C. Ladies, you are forgetting yourselves again. Mrs. Gray is a dear friend of mine, and | cannot permit any discussion of her private affairs under my roof. Mrs. B. (As?de.) Good for you! Mrs. P. There is no need to be so hoity-toity about it. Mr, Potts knows him to be a gambler, and I will nct pay any five cents for saying it, either. Mrs. F. (Aside to Amy.) She need not talk! Mrs. P. What did you remark, Mrs. Foster? A. (Asideto Miss A.) Now for the fun! Miss A. (Aside to Amy.) The fur will begin to flyina minute. Ht. What're you two girls laughin’ about over there? You'd do well to pay some fine. yourselves. Mrs. P. Do you mean to insinuate, Mrs. Foster, that my husband is a gambler? : Mrs. F. I did not say so. Miss C. Friends, let me entreat you to stop this! Mrs. P. (Rising.) I have been insuited in your house, and shall leave it. Before I do so, let me tell you, Mrs. Foster, that I myself saw your husband come out of that bucket-shop! Mrs. -¥. That’salie! A shameful lie! Mrs. P. (Pausing tn her march toward the door.) You dare to say lie to me? A. (Aside.) The plot thickens! Mrs. F. You know it is false. Mrs. P.. Il prove it! The law shall prove it! We shall see if J am to be insulted by a woman whose mother was a restaurant cook, SpveraALt. Ob! Shame! (Hte.) Miss C. I must insist that this discussion be stopped! SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF SCANDAL. 41 Mrs. P. (Seating herself.) 1 will stop, and right here, too. i I will not be driven from a friend’s house by Mrs. Foster. A. Miss Andrews, you are not attending to your duties. You should have a small fortune in your possession by this time; enough for several Christmas dinners. Miss A. Supposing you take the office yourself, then, Miss ; Amy? I don’t think I care for it, anyway, : A. Qh dear, no/ I might spend the money. Zz oo H. On valentines? A. Hannah Jenks, you are a spiteful old maid! H. Amy Cutter. you are an impudent little minx: Miss C, Amy, either behave yourself or leave the room. (Noise 13 heard outside.) (Re-enter Mrs. CLARKE.) é Mrs. C. - Where is that meddling old vixen, Hannah Jenks? / (Confronts HANNAH) I’ve traced it toyou/ I’ve proved it on 1 ; you, and my husband has gone to get out a warrant for your ~ arrest. H. (Jumping up.) What do you mean? e Mrs. C. You will soon find out. You will find out in a : court of Jaw! I will make you take back every word, and pay dearly for the slander, too. H. (Defiantly) Inever did you any harm. t Mrs. C: And some of the others would do well to follow x my example. A society for the suppression of scandal, in- * deed! I guess the law will suppress it quicker than anything ‘ else. Miss. C. Mrs, Clarke, I really must ask you to leave my | . house! You have made trouble enough for one afternoon, : rea 5 Mrs. C. You think so, do you? 1 will make more before " @ tan through with this, an] I shall stay here until my hus- band comes. Perhaps if you knew some of the nice things that Hannah has said about yeu— q oh Miss C. Ido not care to know. a A. You are a horrid old cat! (Several laugh.) d Mrs. C. You impertinent little— tf *‘ Mrs. B. Ladies, | implore you to stop this! If Miss Cut- PE ter is not to be heard in her own house, Jet me, your minis- a ter’s wife, be heard. Mrs. L. (Astde.) You are pretty apt to be heard ’most anywhere. (Nose of heavy steps heard outside.) Mrs. C. There is the constable to arrest Hannah Jenks.. _ (General confusion. Hannan begins to cry.) H. I never did said a word about you, Miss Clarke, nox none.o’ the others. I ain’t no gossipper, an’ it’s hard on a poor girl like me, as has, a helpless mother to care for, an’ can’t defend herself, to be put upon this way. Miss, Neyer mind, Hannah; we will look after you, 4aQ. THE DIME DIALOGUES. (Knock outside. Miss Curter leaves the room. Hubbub in- creases, every one talking excitedly. Mrs. Buunt goes over to Hannan. Mrs. Porrs and Mrs. Foster renew their quar- rel. i. (To Miss ANDREWs.) The battle waxes fast and furi- ous! Miss A. It is morefun than a cage full of mad monkeys. Mrs. L. It is a shame! Mrs. K. Poor Miss Cutter! I am so sorry for her. Mrs. L. When she meant so well, too. (Re-enter Miss CUTTER. ) Miss ©. Iam sorry to say it, Hannah, but you will have to go. I would not let the man come in here. The best thing you can do is to goquietly. Some one will walk with you, and we will see what we can do for you. H. (OQrying.) Ob, Miss Cutter, I can’t go! I won't! ’T will kili poor mother. Mrs. B. I will go with you, Hannah; and Mr. Blunt-will - get bail, if necessary. SEVERAL. We will all go. Mass A. Catch me! I have had enough of that gossiping — old maid, and she can go to jail for all of me, However, I may as well go, as 1 sce no prospect of the promised tea. (While she is speaking the others are crowding out, HANNA 8ob- bing, Mus. Porrs and Mrs. Fosver carefully avoiding each other. As they disappear, Mrs. Gray re-enters by another door.) A. (Dancing around.) Oh, it was too deliciously funny for anything! = Mrs. G@. Amy, you are incorrigible. You will be the death of your dear sister yet. ‘ A. Oh, noI won't! She is not quite so easily killed as her Society for the Suppression of Scandal; and oh! how many families do you suppose will have Christmas dinners out of our fines? \ (Curtain.) ° THE MORAL OF A DREAM, THE MORAL OF A DREAM, FOR SEVERAL BOYS. | ScEenE I. P| Witt. Come home with me, George. GrorGE. Can’t possibly; must study up to-night for ex. amination. W. Oh, pooh! You'll pull through all right. What’s the | use of working so hard? | Tm not at all sure of pulling through. I must review -| some, and you’d better do the same. p I ¢€ W. Humph! Don’t preach! I hate preaching. Tl get t through without killing myself, either. ea E G. You know you're not very strong on history, Will. 2 W. You needn’t say anything after saying to-day that Washington discovered America, G. Idid not! At least— W. Oh, yes, you did! : G. It was only a slip; I knew better, and corrected myself ee at once. f W. Yes, I know you did, and it wasn’t fair either. Miss Brown wouldn’t have let any one else do it. G. She knew I didn’t mean it. ‘W. You shouldn’t say what you don’t mean. G. What 7s the matter with you to-day, Will? You are as cranky as a— W.-: Cranky, am I! J’ll teach you to call me names., @ (Throws down books and pitches into Guoran, as the curtain falls.) Re Scene II.—WIt1, seated in his own room, asleep by the fire. pe (Enter two queer dwarfs.) ist Dwarr. Here he is, and sound asleep. 2p Dwarr. We'll soon waken him. (Reaches out and pricks WiLL, who starts up, rubs his eyes, then bounds from his chatr with a howl of fear, 1st Dwar¥ catches him.) ist D. Not so fast, my fine fellow. 2p D,. Ha! Ha! You were not so ready to run this after- noon, W.. Who are you? What do you want with me? ist D. We have a little score to settle. 2p D. Ha! Yes, indeed! W. But, I don’t know you. ° 44 THE DIME DIALOGUES. ist D. We know you very well, though. We know every boy in town, and we have power to punish the bad and reward the good. Now, which do you deserve? W. (His teeth chattering.) 1 d-don’t know. 2p D. Oh, you don’t! Well, we'll soon find out. “Ho! without, there! (Znter a troop of dwarfs, who caper around WILL, making faces at him.) Here’s a boy that doesn’t know whether he is good or not, and we want you to help us find out, SevEeRAL. Oh, we will; ha-ha-ha! e ist D.. How about a boy that won’t study? Aut, Bad! Bad! ist D.. That tries to keep others from studying? ALL. «Bad! (Groans.) 2p D. That accuses his best friend of meanness? Aun. Worse than bad! 1st D. That pitches into that friend and fights him for nothing at.all? Aut. Oh! Oh! Bad! Worse! Worst! (They dance around WiLL, poke him, pull his hair, and torment him gen- erally.) f W. He called me a crank! Cnorus. He called him a “rank, ha-ha! ist D. What. shall we do with him? Au. Punish him! : 2p D. Yes, punish him, but how? One. Cut off the hands that did the fighting. : ANoTHER, Cut out the tongue that said the mean things. AnotuER. Let’s carry him off to Hobgoblinland. (Several lay hands on him.) Win. Oh, don’t! please, don’t! SEVERAL. Oh, no, we won't! (Mockingly.) Wu. Please, let me go! 2p D. Let’s pull his teeth out, one by one. I havea famous forceps here. (He approaches nearer W111, who tries to run, but is held fast.) W. Oh, let me go, please: let me go! I'll never fight again! 1sr D Tl warrant you won't, when we get through with you. At him, boys! (Lhey pitch into him.) W. Ow! Ow! ALL. Ha! Ha! ‘ Isr D. Enough! (They become quiet. Wii drops into has chair, exhausted, and with closed eyes. The Dwaxrs all dis- appear. Knock.) (Enter Grorcn. Wi starts up 5 rubs his eyes.) W Where are they? G. They! “Who? W. The dwarfs, ~ WANTED A DIVORCE. 45 G: Dwarfs? You must be dreaming. W. I wonder if I was? I must have been! Oh, such a ~- horrid dream! But, George, how came you here? The truth is, I didn’t like to go to bed angry, so— « W. Don't saya word! I am heartily ashamed of myself, and as I promised those dreadful dwarfs in my dream, I'l never do so any more, * G. Shake! (They shake hands as the curtain falls.) | WANTED: A DIVORCE; - § OR, re BETSY HANKS’S VICTORY. oe FOR TWO MALES AND ONE FEMALE. Characters :—Lawyrer Porter; Farmer Hanks; Mrs. : Hanks. Scenn.—Lawyer’s office. Lawyer Porter sitting at desk : writing. Knock at door, (Enter FARMER Hanns én. rustic attire, looking hesttatingly aroun.) ‘Farmer Hanks. Be you the divorce man? LawyErR Porter. (Smiling.) Well, I don’t exactly know that my vocation lies particularly in that direction, but I + \ have been known to undertake such cases. Are youin trouble? a” Far. H. I should rather say so! It’s come to jest this ‘ *ere climax that I can’t stand it nohow, not another day; an’ ef Ban you can’t git me uaspliced, I’ll hev to find some one who can. F Law. P. What are your grounds for complaint? er Far. H. Grounds! Ordinary grounds wouldn’t hold ’em! £ Ive a hul) farm full! Law. P. One or two are just as efficient in procuring a j divorce as a hundred, providing the offense is. grave enough, : 2h Your wife now, for instance: I suppose she hasn’t fallen in ] B® Jove with another man? oa F Far. H. Haw-haw! That’s a good ’un! Betsey in love with another feller? Wal, hardly, mister! Betsey isn’t no fool. You can bet high on that / : Law. P. Of course that was a suppositional case, merely. Js she a scandal-monger? Fan. H:- Scandal-monger? Not much; ef ever a woman knew how to hold her tongue when other folks’s is a-waggin’, 2 that’s Betsey, every time. Law. P. Cruel to her children, possibly? Far. H. Iswow, Pll begin to take you fer the fool, mis- ter. Our children is growed up an’.in homes of the’r own, years back; an’ ez: fer gran’children, ef ever an old woman THE DIME DIALOGUES. made an idjit oi herself over babies, it’s Betsey with them thar youngsters. She jest sp‘iles them no end, an’ thar’s no- budy they sets such store by as gran’ma. You hain’t on the right track, by long odds. Law. P. Evidently not. Suppose now, as my time is valuable, we reverse the case, and you enlighten me as to the cause of your unhappiness, instead of my wasting the minutes in making conjectures? Perhaps incompatibility of temper may cover the ground. Far. H. In—com—what kind of temper? You beat me with them long words 0’ yourn; but, mebbe you've struck it, this time. Thar’s no use talking, but Betsey’s that aggervat- in’, she r’iles me so it seems like as though I’d bu’st! Hfshe’d ever saya word | could stand it; but she’s that mum you can’t git a word out o’ her edgewise; you'd say, for sartain, thet. she’d b’en born deaf, an’ without a tongue in her mouth. Law. P. A woman and dumb? Ye gods! This is the reversal of the laws of nature with a vengeance! Do you mean for me to understand that you wife never speaks? How can she conduct her household? Far. H. Oh, she’s chipper enough when things goes to suit; but when I’m riled, an’ dyin’ to see the fur fly—to hev it out with some one—then she’s mummer than the side 0’ a house; ye couldn’t git a word out o’ her then with a pair o’ oxen! Ef she'd only spit it out, too, an’ hev a good out en out settlin’ o’ matters, ’twould clear the air like a thunder-storm; but thet’s exactly whar the pinch comes. I might,r’are an’ tear, an’ pull the house down over our heads, fer all the good *twould do—thet woman would set es calm es a cucumber, or go about her chores, an’ you’d never guess she knew I was within a hundred miles 0’ her! Hither she hain’t got an atom o’ sense ip her git up, or else she’s too dumb to show it at sech times. It’s enough to drive a man into fits, an’ J can’t go it no longer. It’s either her or me that’s got to git out! I’m willin’ to do my duty to the letter, an’ give her a share in the old farm. _I wouldn’t see her want for nothin’, fer in spite o’ her tongue— Law. P. I rather think you mean her want of tongue! Far. H. Jest so! There isn’t a kinder or willin’er woman in the section. Law. P. Suppose, now, that we sum up: your wife, ac- cording to your statements, isa good, pure woman— Far. H_ That she is, lawyer! I'd like to hear any one say a thing against Betsey’s character! I’d choke the life out ov him! Law. P. Fond of her children and grandchildren; don’t gossip; domestic in her tastes— Does she keep your house in order, your clothes mended, your wants all attended to, and give you your meals on time? AY WANTED A DIVORCE. Far. R. Why, of course! Thet’s what a wife’s fer, isn’t she? What a question to ax! Law. P.. You acknowledge all this. Now, supposing, on the contrary, that your wife was a shrew. Far. H. (Bewildered.) A which? Law. F. A cross, scolding woman; a woman who left her own fireside to gossip and make scandal among her neigh- bors; who neglected her house, who got your meals at all or no times, and let you look out for yourself; who abused the little children around her; who— Far. H. Stop, mister! Betsey couldn’t do none o’. them things. Why, you’d make her out a pretty sort o’ critter for me to hev been livin’ with these forty years! Law. P. No, Betsey couldn’t doall or any of these things, From your own story you have a saint instead of an ordinary woman for a wife; a being who knows that essence of all true happiness—how to bold her tongue; who, instead of lowering herself to petty quarrels and commonplace bickerings, keeps her temper within bounds while you are purposely doing all you possibly can to aggravate her—to make her dislike you— o— Far. H. (Shamefacedly.) Sho! You air tryin’ to make out a purty strong case against me, ain’t you now? I never looked at it in jest that light before, an’ you can’t tell how a few words now an’ then would spice up things in general. Law. P. If your wife were to come to me and demand a divorce, after what you have told me, I should be strongly tempted to take up her case. Far. H. Betsey git a divorce from: me/ Thet's the best yet! Well, I should as soon think o’ the sky falling. (Knock at door, voice outside asking if LAWYER PoRTHR ts tn.) Vil be everlastin’ly simmered, ef thet don’t sound like Betsey’s voice this actual minute! Whar]! I go? I don’t want to be found around these parts; but, what in the name o’ conscience kin she want with you, now? (Glares at the lawyer, who takes him by the shoulder and leads him up to closet door, or behind a sereen.) Law, P. Step into this cover, and be quick about it. You'll soon ascertain what your wife wants of me. And re- member, this is a private interview which you are not to in- terrupt. (FarmMEeR Hanks disappears, and the lawyer goes to door.) (Enter Mrs. Hanks, hesitatingly.) Law. P. Good-morning, madame! What can Ido for you? Let me give you a chair. (Seats her with back to closet or sereen, Farmer H. pokes his head out.) i Far. H. Wl be durned but it 7s Betsey! (Comes half out éinto room, but LAWYER P. scowls and motions him back, Mrs, HAnxs sits silent.) THE DIME DIALOGURS. Law. P. (Kindly.) Well, madame, you want— on Mrs. Hanns, (dn a@ halfwhisper.) I want, or I guess T want a bill of divoree. (FARMER HAnxs’s face pops out again, with an expression of lewilderment and horror upon tt.) Law. P. Your husband is addicted to the excessive use of liquor, maybe? (FARMER H. shakes his fist at the lawyer.) Mrs. H. Good gracious, no! Samuel never took too much liquor in his life, to my knowledge. Law. P. Then, perhaps, he is violent, and cruel to you and the children? Mrs. H. Merey, no! Whatever made you think of sech a thing! Samuel wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s the softest-hearted man in the world; it isn’t that—it’s only —only— Law. P. Well, you must try to tell me your difficulty, or I will be unable to help you. - Mrs. H. (Bursting into tears.) It’s so hard to tell, yet it’s so hard to bear. It seems jest.as if I'd go wild ef I had it to stand another day. Yet except fer this one thing Samuel’s the best husband a woman could ask fer. He is perfectly tem- perate in all his habits, liberal an’ open-handed as the day is Jong, an’ as kind aun’ considerate as any one could wish fer. (Farmer H. looks out at the lawyer eaultantly.) But—but— Law. P. But what? Mrs. H. Oh, those dreadful tantrums of his’n! They come on without any apparent reason at all, an’ he's like toa crazy man. Law. P. And you oppose him and aggravate him when he gets in these moods, possibly? Mrs. H. (Sadly.) Qh, no! What good would tat do? or rather, what harm wouldn’t it do? 1 jest stand them as best Imay, an’ pray the Good Power above for strength to bold my tongue, an’ bear the affliction which he has seen fit to visit me with. (FARMER H. locks out again with an incredulous, shame-faced expression, and seems about to speak, Wut the lawyer motions him back.) Law. P.. And you say absolutely nothing? Mrs. H. I never hev given way to my tongue yet; ef I once should, or to the feelin’ that he rouses in me at sech times, I almost think I should strike him. (FarmuEr H. again advances, but is motioned back.) Law. P. Wouldn’t that serve him right? Mrs. H. (Surprised.) Strike Samuel? I’d never forgive myself ef I did. Yet, itis sohard; you can’t tell! It really seems as ef the harder I tried to hold my tongue an’ keep the peace, the worse he got, until sometimes’ I ’most think he’d — like to £il/ me! Law. P. Oh, surely not! His wicked temper would not, or could not, carry itself to such an extent against such an » angel of peace, But, I cannot find words to express my opin- oo * (@ ' j WANTED,. A DIVORCE. 49 convey my condemnation.. A man who will seek willfully to quarrel with a wife who is gentleness and meekness itself, to say nothing of the other cardinal virtues, is a selfish, heartless piece of humanity, unworthy of the name of man, and ¢e- serves nothing better than the public whipping-post, which, | ion of such a bruce. I cannot find strong enough terms to | unhappily— Zl oe Mrs. H. Stop! I will not allow you to speak of Samuel ey in such a manner! He may hev his little faults ag all men do— | Far. H, (Rushing out.) Yes, let him say every durned } thing he kin of me, Betsey! I deserve it all, an’ a hundred | times more—(Mrs. HANKS gives a scream, and almost sinks By to the floor, but her husband catches her)—when J think of what > © a howlin’ idjit [’ve b’en all these years. The whippin’-post ain’t half severe enough. Mrs. H. Oh, you never was that, Samuel! Far. H. Yes I was, an’ be, up to this very minute; but I be goin’ to make a clean breast of it or bu’st. Herel hev b’en ag thinkin an’ sayin’ thet you didn’t quarrel with me nor answer me back, because ye didn’t know enough— Mrs. H. Oh, Samuel, how could you? ‘ Har. H. An’ thet you was a perfect fool, with no spunk in ye, an’ here you’ve b’en with the spunk all bottled up, an’ never darin’ to let her loose for fear o’ makin’ me wuss, an’ doin’ wrong yourself! Oh! I’m the wickedest kind of a sin- ner, Betsey. (Groans.) I don’t wonder you want to git a } bill aginst me; an’ this here lawyer’ll be sure to git ye one, as he sees you deserve it fast enough, an’ I don’t blame neither o’ e. a ie, y Mrs. H. But I don’t want it, Samuel. Now you see jest 4 . how it is, an’ that I never allowed to rile you, I’m sure ’twill all be right. (Zurning to LAwyER P.) An’ you won't let what I’ve said turn you aginst him, will you? You can see for yourself that he never could hey meant it. Law. P. And he never was sucha man as he proves at this (ee very time when he humbles himself to confess how wrong he | ' has been, and acknowledges the true worth of his devoted Shi wife whom he has so long misjudged and misunderstood. q f Far. H. You're right thar, Lawyer Porter. I can’t find ft the words to tell what a blamed fool I’ve b’en; yet, ef you'll | believe it, I feel lighter o’ heart this blessed minute than I — hev in a month o’ Sundays before. An’ to think that an hour ~ ago I was actually hankerin’ after a bill ag’in’ ye; Betsey! I don’t desarve ye should forgive me, like this, but I give ye | | my word o’ honor thet the next time a tantrum strikes me 171 3 4 hev it out down in the meddar with that old Jersey bullo’ J mine. a (Curtain falls.) ie eee THE DIME DIALOGUES, MEDDLING WITH SANTA CLAUS; OR, THE OBTRUSIVE FAIRIES. {For Santa Claus: four little boys-and four little girls. Or, if desired for a girls’ school, the parts may all be taken by girls by adapting the imps’ costumes to suit the change.] Scene:—A room with open fireplace or grate, and six stockings of various sizes hanging up. Music is heard, and. all the children dance onto the stage in pairs, the girls attired as fairies, with wands in their hands, and the boys as imps. They dance forward, form a square and go through with some pretty figure. When finished, they act as if warm and tired, and take pretiy positions.) 3 ist Farry. Dear me! There, that will do; If time is spent this way, We surely uever will get through All we must do, ere day. How many stockings have we here? One, two, three, four, five, six! (Counting them off with her wand.) Enough to keep us long, I fear. (Isr Imp cuts a caper.) Now, Spitfire, cease your tricks! We'll take the longest first and see How quickly we can put Our gifts within, until, it be Crammed full, from hem to foot. Now, Maybell, quick! we'll hear from you;— 2p Farry. Tl give a heart of gold To make its owner stanch and true, The best of all the fold. 8p Farry. Her fingers shall ‘be deft to aid The overburdened mother; A help to all, this little maid— SPIrFrRE. A, torment to her brother! ‘ ! MEDDLING WITH SANTA CLAUS. isr Farry. You wretched imp: be still, I say; No peace we'll have this night With you along. Next time you’ll stay At home, you naughty wight! This next must be a little boy’s; The well-darned knee shows that; He probably expects some toys, A bicycle, and bat. 2p Imp. How disappointed he will be With expectations great To find a lot of honesty, Politeness, and all that! 8p Farry. He needs them, if he’s much like you; I think Tl put some in. 47H Farry. While I will add a conscience new And strength to keep from sin. 3D Imp. Come now; give us a chance at that! You had it your own way With the other stocking; tit for tat Is only fair, I say. 4rn Imp. Tl give a shiny, new tin box To keep his conscience in. 3p Imp. And fasten it with patent locks Enough to keep out sin, ist Ine —Sprirrree. Tll add plaster to stick it on Capsicum or mustard, ground. He’ll smarter be than any don, And better red, I’ll be bound! ist Farry. How dare you jest? How dare you to— 2p Farry. You're worse than other boys— THE DIME DIALOGUES. 8p Farry. We'll never with our work get through— (Notse outside.) a ALL, What's that? Oh! What a noise! (Enter Santa Cxiaus with a clatter. All are scared. Fatrins ' try to hide behind Imps.) e & Santa CLAUS. Heyday! What's this! What have we here? A pretty scene, I trow! On this night, too, of all the year! What’s up? I want to know, @ ® ist Farry. *Tis Christmas Eve, you know, and we From fairy realms below é Came up to earth with gifts so free ( On mortals to bestow. ‘ ae But, ere the work we could complete, These wicked little wights Began by mischief to defeat The good done by the sprites. SANTA CLAUS. ; Ha. ha! ho, ho! Well, I declare! ‘ You give good things, indeed, To children of this upper air When J supply their need! How dare you take it on yourselves ee To trespass on my ground, You miserable, unearthly elves? How dare you, you young hound? (Grabs at Sprrvren, and catches him.) SpPITFIRE (trembling with fear.) 2 & Please, sir, ske made me come, she did. (Points at 1st Farry.) Tl never come again. Santa CrLAvs. = Indeed you’! not. The earth Ili rid Of such as you, that’s plain! Goone! Goall! Clear out of this! Betake yourselves below; ‘ Take back your‘gifts! My chicks won’t miss Such things as you bestow! »2 > @® . & PETS a TS ae DECEIVING TO WIN. 53. For they have me, old Santa Claus, Their best, their dearest friend! This night is ov-rs, by oldest laws, And will be to Time’s end. So get you hence, you imps and elves, Nor bear me spite, I ask; Just dance away among yourselves, And leave me to my task. (They dance another figure, SANTA CLAUS looking on approv- ingly; then they all walk off, and the curtain falls as SANTA Cuiaus turns to fill the stockings.) ———+_____0 <>. DECEIVING TO WIN; ; OR, HOW FRED GRANTLEY CONVERTED HIS MOTHER. A PARLOR DRAMA IN THREE SCENES. . Characters: ~Frep GRANTLTEY; Mrs. GrantTLEY; MaraEw Hint; GENEVIEVE Van Nzst. ScenrE I.—FRED GRANTLEY’s study. FreD and Mart seated and engaged in conversation. Frep. And think how it complicates matters for mother to have such a deep-rooted aversion to actresses. Any one who did not know her as well as I do would scarcely be able to understand it, for, notwithstanding her uncommon sense and tender heart, in the one direction she is perfectly inflexi- ble. Mar. Whatis.the cause of it? I can hardly fancy Mrs. Grantley so prejudiced against any one, or anything, as not to be open to conviction. sis F. Well, it is this way: you see, she was brought ‘up in the strictest manner, in a sectarian family who’ believed that the theater with all its accessories was one of the worst temptations of the Old Gentleman himself. Then, unfor- tunately, there have been brought to her notice, at different times, several members of the profession who happened to be * dissipated, and offensive in their morals, so that it only con- firmed her belief, which it is now impossible to shake. It. makes it so deuced hard for me; | don’t know what Pm going todo. Vm aregular coward as far as confessing the truth to her is concerned. I simply ean’t do it. : M, Why, Fred, my boy; this does not sound much like — 54 THE DIME DIALOGUES. your usual impetuous fashion of taking the bull by the horns when you're in a dilemma. Why don’t you go to your mother, frankly confess all, and trust to her innate good sense and judgment to take Genevieve to her heart and welcome her as a daughter, when she sees and knows her for the pure, noble woman that she most certainly is. F. Its no use; you don’t know my mother as I do, Mat. Tae simple fact that Genevieve is an actress would be enough; she would refuse to meet her; she would never give herself the chance to know and love her. M. But, surely, if she knew all the circumstances; that Genevieve was the daughter of people above reproacbh—de- scended from one of the best old Knickerboeker families ia the State; that she had been reared and educated as only a child of wealth and cultivation could be, surrounded by every token of luxury and refinement, shielded from every breath that blew, the sweetest, loveliest girl possible—actually your mother’s ideal wife for her idolized son: would not all this weigh in the balance in favor of your betrothed? Not one iota against that one crime—the one unforgiv- able sin of being un actress. Even the circumstances of her be- coming one could not alter, in my mother’s mind, the fact. Think of that girl, in ove awful hour left fatherless, her for- - tune swept away, alone and desolate except for an invalid mother dependent entirely upon her exertions! It was thea that her true nature asserted herself, The helpless girl who had all her life leaned upon others, whose every desire and eaprice had always been gratified, changed completely, almost instantaneously, into the noble woman which she has since proved herself to be. M. Did she go on the stage immediately? And how did she get into Forman’s company? Why, she’s the ‘leading lady’ now, and the talk of the town for her youth, beauty, and the circumstances of her debut. l’ve often thought of asking you the particulars, as 1 felt so interested, especially knowing your attachment in that direction, my boy. F.° You know, of course, how great a talent she had. She was a superb elocutionist, and was really a natural-born actress, so that she was in demand at every amateur perform: ance given in her set. Mr. Forman is an old and personal friend of her father; so after the failure, and her father’s sub- sequent death, she went to Forman and bevged a position in his stock company—anything so that it would afford a means of support for her mother. At first Forman was very much opposed to the idea of her going into public life, but ended by giving her a soubrette’s position, from which she rose like a comet to her present altitude as a star of the first magnitude. The rest of the company all worship her; thereis not an envi- ous nor a jealous one among them, and she is as carefully #% °@ o we + 1 i + DECHIVING 'TO WIN. 5b looked after as though she never left the shelter of her mother’s roof, An old confidential servant, wh» had been in the fam- ily for years, acts as her duenna, accompanies her in the ¢ar- riage fo and from the theater, and shields her in every possible way from any contact with strangers. Mr. Forman himself is the recipient of all the bouquets, notes and gifts which are showered upon her, turning over to her such as he deems proper, and returving the rest, so far as expedient, to the donor. Oh! if mother could only meet her—could know her without knowing her, if such a paradox be admissible!—she could not help but Jove her and value her at her true worth. But, it seems a hopeless tangle from which I have no way of extricating myself, and the only thing I am positive of is that I will not give Geneviev2 up; rather starve with her in a garret, if that were the alternative. It is confoundedly hard, though, to think of the breach which will surely come be- tween my mother and me. I love mother very dearly, and cannot bear to think of an estrangement, or that she should come to think of meas wanting in filial love and duty. It 2 hard. (Sighs.) Don’t be so disconsolate, old fellow. There’ll probably come a rift in the clouds just when you least expect it; and remember, if 1 can be of the least service, at any time, in this matter, Iam yours to command. But, it’s three o’clock, and time we were due at our own rehearsal. It’s funny, isn’t it, how your mother condones private theatricals while she con- demns public ones! 1 do hope our performance will be a suc- cess, and reap a huge benefit for the Hospital Fund; but I must say our young people have not as much histrionic talent among them as might have been expected. But their audience won't be critical, that’s one comfort; amateurs are always re- garded with all the leniency possible, and their defects glossed over by the pitying kindness of their friends, who pay their dollar and take what they can get for it in the masterly ren- dering of Othello, Hamlet or Claude Melnotte, by Tom, Dick and Harry. Come, we must avaunt us! (Curtain.) Scene IIl.—A sitting-room in Mrs, GRANTLEY’s house. Mrs. GRANTLEY sitting reading. ; (Enter hastily Frep and Maruew, who fling themselves into easy-chairs and look annoyed.) F, Well, we are in an awkward predicament, mother. Mrs. GRANTLEY. What is the matter? ‘ ¥. Ob, Mrs. Dillon has goneand got ill, and our theatricals ~~ will be a failure, for she had the most important part in the THE DIME DIALOGUES. whole cast—Galatea to my Pygmalion. Could anything have 4, been more unfortunate! = Mrs. G. You must make a substitute, of course, even if the part is not played as well as Mrs. Dillon could havé done ~ + te f b F. Why, mother, it is so difficult that no one will dare attempt it; it demands such strength of action, such power, : and such emotional expression that I am positive there is not “*s another lady in all the place who can even half fill the requi- . sition. It is no useto try; the whole exhibition will have to be given up. Mrs. G. After all your trouble and expense, and the pub- licity.of the affair, a failure would certainly be most mortify- ing. Surely we must think of some way out of the difficulty. M. Wecan send to the city for a professional. F. Inever thought of that! Why, it will be just the very thing! 1 don’t care if it costs fifty dollars. I’d gladly foot the bill myself, to save us from failure and disgrace. Mrs. G.. Please don't do it, Fred. I ask it as a favor that you do not resort to this means of carrying out your plans. M. But, why not, madame? It seems really the only way in our present emergency. i Mrs. G. Because these theatrical people are not desirable a acquaintances or associates. They are a peculiar class, with morals and habits and tastes all their own, which it would be very impolitic to introduce into any social circle. And I most decidedly do not desire my son to take a tour of the green- rooms to find an actress, escort her here, be her constant. at- tendant, and play Pygmalion to her Galatea! Better the whole thing was a failure than to be made a success atsuch a = ! te & (Sighing.) Say n0 more, mcther; of course that settles it. I'll go down town and see what the other fellows have to say about this miserable business. M. Hold! I have another brilliant idea! My brain seems ‘to teem with fertile expedients this afternoon. Can it be the salmon I ate for lunch has thus soon been converted into brain- - power? Why not send for Miss Van Nest? (FRrep starts 2 ®& back aghast, but Mar motions him to be quiet, and proceeds ) She would assure the success of our entertainment, without a doubt. Mrs. G. And who is Miss Van Nest? The name sounds is partially familiar, as if my son might have mentioned it at de some time or other, yet I do not recall it. : ax M. Miss Van Nest is a most charming young woman, iy madame; one who could not fail to meet with your warm ap- - proval in every respect, descended from tie Van Nests, aristo- i cratic old Knickerbockers that they were, and with a pedigree as long.as my tailor’s last year’s bill,. Fred and I have both te se DECEIVING TO WIN. met her repeatedly in the city, so it is not to be wondered at if her name should have a familiar ring in your ears. Fred has certainly rung the changes on it in my ears often enough! F. (Laughing.) Be quiet, you rascal! Are you about to divulge state secrets? Mrs. G. It‘has hardly reached that stage yet, bas it? I could hardly imagine your keeping a secret of that kind from me, Fred. But, why is this paragon of a young woman so particularly fitted to help us out of this dilemma? M. Because she has a peculiar talent in this very direction. She has been considered, I believe, one of the best amateur actresses in New. York. She is adorable—divine! Mathew, stop your rhapsodical nonsense cr I’ll put you in a lunatic asylum! But, really, mother, if Miss Van Nest - could ‘be induced to come it would be the best solution possi- ble of our problem. Hadn’t I better run up to the city and see what arrangements can be made? Mrs. G. (Laughing.) Certainly; my boy: unless Mathew could transact the business more satisfactorily! Tel! her that she is sure of a cordial welcome in my house—that any one whom my son holds in such high esteem will be my hon- ored guest, and I hope that she will come right to me and stay as long as she can make it convenient,-after the play ¢ has come off; I shall be charmed to make her acquaintance, M. Bravo! the Rubicon is crossed! or rather, we have reached its brink and now all we have to do is to jump over! But, are you sure, Mrs. Grantley, that you give your consent to Fred’s adhering to zs part in thecast? Remember, Pygma- lion charms his Galatea into life and love! . Mrs. G. If bis Galatea be as pure and lovely as the origi- nal, | will not murmur a dissent; although when the time comes it will be hard to divide my boy’s affection with an- other. But, I will leave you now to talk over ‘‘ business” ~ while I go and order an early dinner, if Fred is to go to the city this evening. (Heit.) The dear old mater—how she loves me! And how ever can I take a step which will alienate us and almost break — her heart? Mathew, you are an utter scamp! How did you dare \o get me into this scrape? I wonder yeu can sit there ~ calmly and face me down; but then you always were noted — for your nerve, and I see-it hasn’t forsaken you now. M. It never does at critical moments, and this was evi- dently one of them—the turning stone in my—no, your career if you only make the most of it. You’d better sink on you knees and make a declaration of joy and relief, if not of ac-— tual love, to me, for coming thus nobly to the rescue in this crisis of your existence. But, seriously, Fred, is not this the — very opportunity you have been longing and pining for?—of THE DIME DIALOGUES. bringing together mother and sweetheart to make each other’s acquaintance and form a mutual esteem? F. But do you mean me to deceive my mother, Mat? Am I to bring Genevieve under her roof, under false colors, as it were? , What can be the outcome of it all? I cannot sec, and it makes me tremble to think of the probable consequences. M. You will not be deceiving your mother, my dear boy. Everything which has been told her is literally true;—in fact, one could not do Genevieve justice in the mere description! - You will withhold certain facts, merely, for a time; and trust to your betrothed with her woman’s tact added to her num- berless charming qualities, to win over your mother’s heart so that when the crucial test comes the tide will turn in your favor. (Never mind my mixed metaphors so long as they ex- press what I’m trying to get at ) F. Mat, you’re a friend, indeed, and I won’t try to thauk you; you'll understand all I leave unsaid. If your little scheme carries I’]l be the happiest man this side of the Atlantic, and yow shall be the dest, or perhaps you won’t care to be “‘best ? man.at my wedding! It’s lucky this happens to be Genevieve’s vaeation. (Curtain.) ' Screnn ITI.—Same as Scene JT; Mrs. GRANTLEY and GENE- VIEVE seated before the fireplace with fancy-work. Mrs. G. A whole fortnight since the evening of the play; and what a success it was—or I should say, what a success you were, my dear! I do not believe any one could have made a more perfect Galatea, not even the ‘‘ professional ” whom Mathew Hill was so determined to introduce; and I’m sure my son is of the same opinion, although perhaps he may yet not have said quite that much, eh, Genevieve? GeNtVIEVE. And if he had, Mrs. Grantley? Mrs. G. Why, what a solemn tone! quite unlike your. ‘usual merry voice. Has anything happened to distress you, _ my dear? i G. No, no, dear Mrs. Grantley. What could have hap- ) » pened, and how can I be otherwise than happy, surrounded Be a your thoughtful care and kindness? But—if he had, dear _ friend? Mrs. G. If he-had?—if he had told you that you were his _ ideal Galatea—the one woman in the world to bless him with her awakened love, and to crown his life with happiness? I should give my consent and blessing with a thankful heart that his choice had been so— What? crying! child! What is the meaning of this?” Bees DECEIVING TO WIN: | G. Oh, you are too good, too good to me, Mrs. Grantley! I am all unworthy of your kindness, and did you know all, you would spurn me as you now lavish affection on me. Mrs. G. Why, my dear child, what can you mean? (Sternly.) Surely you have not been trifling with the affec- tion of my son? Genevieve, do you love Fred? G. As my life!) Can you doubt it, who know him in all, his upright manhood and integrity? Oh, who could help loving him? Mrs. G. And he loves you: of that 1 was more than haif convinced before Lever saw you. Has he not told you so ere now? G. Dear Mrs. Graniley, yes. All unworthy that I am, why should I have gained the love and esteem of two such , dear beings as Fred and Fred’s mother? Indeed, indeed, I do not deserve it, as you would say if you knew all. Mrs. G. You silly child! knew all what? G. My history, dear madam. Mrs. G. Your history? A white page in the book of life, I should judge! (GENEVIEVE sh.skes her head.) 1 do know your history. Do you suppose that Fred has not enlightened me? Of your childhood and girlhood, your great sorrow and loss, your noble effort to put aside self in the battle of life, struggling to support and sustain a dear mother-—is this the history of which you would make me believe you are . ashamed? G. You far, far overrate my efforts, best of friends. I did but my duty, or that which 1 considered my duty, and it be- came a pleasure in the doing. Would I have been half a woman had I acted otherwise? But, tell me, you truly do not look down upon me, do not think I have lowered myself in the eyes of the social world because I have left the ranks of idleness and become a bread-winner? Mrs. G. Genevieve, can you do me the injustice to sup- pose that such a thing would make a difference in my regard for you? or rather, that it cou/d lower you in my eyes, or in the opinion of any one whose esteem you would care to have and hold? Honest labor never lowered man or woman in the eyes of his or her true friends. Those who would or could think less of you for what you have'done, would not be — worthy the name of friend, no matter what their social stand- ing or importance; nor would you care to keep them as such, G. But what do you understand by the term ‘‘ honest labor”? Would you have sufficient trust in me, knowing me now as you do, tothink that anytaing 1 would do was right? — That even were it an occupation of which you did not approve, it was right that I had undertaken it because it was what I~ -could do best? and that in doing it I had lost none of my womanhood or purity? that I was as worthy of your affection, — A "60s THE DIME DIALOGUES. of -your son’s love, as when I was a petted child of fortune? Tell me truly. Mrs. G. Why, my dear, how agitated you are! You will raise all sorts of vague speculations in my mind. I will dream of you to-night as a shoplifter or female bandit, or a woman’s rights lecturer! But, there! as you want a serious answer I will tell you truly: knowing you and your character as I do now, both from my own observation (which has been keen, child), and from what I have learned of you through others, I is trust you implicitly; you would do nothing, even for your '» mother’s sake, which you knew would detract from your } woman’s worth. Of that I am sure. G. I have beard—I know—your opinion of the stage; of actresses: what if J were one? Mrs. G. Ah, why take a supposititious case? You are fool- , ish, Genevieve; I love and trust you; let that be sufficient. G. (Rising.) But, I aman actress, Mrs. Grantley! ow, do you despise me? Mrs. G. You, Genevieve? Impossible! (Enter Frep and Mat.) G. (Rushing wildly toward them.) Oh, Fred, how could we ever deceive her! She surely cannot forgive us! See! I have told her! She turns from me! Oh, Mrs. Grantley, do not break my heart! Remember you said you trusted me. Mrs. G. What does this mean? I cannot: understand, _ Fred, my son, have you deceived me, and in such a matter? '-T cannot believe it! (Rup tries to speak, but Mat steps for- ward, mM, Mins Grantley, will you let me say a few words in ex- planation? It is my fault that this has occurred, so on me must rest the blame, if there be any. F, Iwill not let you blame yourself, Mat; the fault, the + cowardice is mine. Mother, I was afriad to tell you the truth, and— M. And 7, Mrs. Grantley, took it upon myself to suggest this way out of the difficu’ty. I felt positive, 1 knew, that, could you become acquainted with Miss Van Nest, without prejudice, you would love and appreciate her as do all her friends—ali who have stood veside her in the past year, dur- ing the trying ordeal of her stage life. Her natural talent in that direction made it the one pursuit which would bring her -money and fame; and so, she has used it for the benefit and delight of all who have witnessed her exquisite portrayals of ~ the beroines of the stage; and for the support of the invalid mother in whom her whole affection was centered until she met your son. She is as good, as pure, as true, as a year ago —as worthy to be Fred’s wife. Can you doubt it? Mrs. G. No, I cannot—will not. 1 donot wish to be un- x DECEIVING TO WIN. m "GL just thal T could not reconcile with my own conscience. red, Genevieve, come here; I love you both! and loving, I forgive you. But you will have to be patient with an old lady’s whims. I have received a shock, and you will give me time to recover from it. I cannot readily reconcile the idea of Genevieve’s being an actress to Genevieve herself! They must always remain apart in my mind. I would rather it should be so. Yet, hereafter 1 will look with more leniency on the profession; 1 will try not to condemn it, for, is not my daughter-to-be a member of it, and do I not see portrayed in her all the characteristics which go to grace per: fect womanbood? But, oh, I wish you had been more open with me, for it hurts to think that I have been deceived. F. Mother, you are an angel! 1 wasalways sure of it, but now— ss M Now you can actually see the wings sprouting! F. Mat, you are incorrigible! but now (turning to his mother) 1 will love and revere you more thanever. It was wrong to keep the truth from you. G But we were punished by our own consciences, Mrs. - Grantley! It was miserable work, and I felt so wretchedly guilty. I was sailing under false colors, and it was almost as’ bad as being a shoplifter! But, you have’ forgiven us! you — will love me for my own sake as well as Fred’ 8? : Mrs. G. I cannot help it. You have won my heart and I cannot take it back. Fred, may you be deserving of her; and the next time you fall in love—confide in your mother, M. Madame, errare est humanum; amor vincit ; all’s well tbat ends well, and other poems by the same author. I’m the only one left out in the cold, but I don’t mind, ’T will be . my turn next! Bless you, my children! (Holds up his hands in mock blessing.) (Curtain.) THE DIME DIALOGUES, RETREAT THE BETTER PART OF VALOR. Characters :—Jenniz Ray, Litty Ray, Newum Sweet, Frank SwHET. Scune.— Three ‘girls with books, reading. JENNIE suddenly i rises, throwing book. BP j 8 JENNIE. Oh, how I wish I had been born, *Most anything, indeed, : t Except a stupid little girl 1 Obliged to learn to read! ae Linyy. Why, Jennie, dear! I did not know You were so much like me! Let us close our books, and each one tell What she would rather be. (Linny and Newwuure close books. JENNIE picks up the one she threw, laying tt on stand.) 4 JENNIE. J would like to be a butterfly And spread my wings just so:— (Hivtends arms as if flying.) The livelong day Id fly, fly, fly; From flower to flower ’d go. , “Ginter FRANK, with straw hat, or insect-net, which he quickly ea 4 places on JENNIE’S head.) JENNIE. Oh! Cousin Frank! You haleful boy! Hy What made you come to-day? = ' When girls are tired and want to talk, Why won't boys stay away? FRANK, You are not meek enough to make, A pretty butterfly ; I always catch them just that way, = - And never heard one cry. (Hait.) Liury. Bess I would rather be a pretty star, ‘a Up in the sky so blue; A I would have nothing there to fear aS While harm might come to you, itt RETREAT THE BETTER PART OF VALOR. ey (Re-enter Frank. Throws shawl over Liuiy’'s head ; she sirug- se/ 2a gles to extricate herself. JENNIE springs up.) JENNIE. i You horrid Frank! I wish you could : ‘ Behave yourself one day; Why don’t you take your bat and ball Out on the green and play? FRANK. Let me play herve. Lama cloud That came up in the night, And suddenly swept o’er the star, QObscuring it from sight. (Recovers shawl.) | 2 Shine, pretty star! the cloud has passed; T hope it taught you this: , : ‘You may be very high indeed, Saee Yet not find perfect bliss. ‘ia $ (Hixit hastily, as girls rush at him.) > a { NELLIE. I would love to be a kitten white, With fur as soft as silk; I would never catch a rat or mouse, But live on nice fresh milk. (Re-enter FRANK, with ‘‘ Bow-wow-wow !” sharp and fierce, like poodle, New retaliates promptly with the hiss and spit” and scratch of the cat. FRANK jumps back dismayed.) » € FRANK. My conscience! You are well prepaved | To act the pretty cat. 3 I did not think you'd be so quick ri To answer ‘‘tit for tat.” NELLIE. e & : Why, cousin dear, you surely know Re : All kittens have sharp claws; But these of course they will not use Unless they have good cause. FRANK. I think I'll say ‘‘ good afternoon” To you, my cousins sweet; Sate Whene’er I find myself outdone a My watchword is—‘‘ Retreat!” a ; (Bows to girls, and exit.) : (Curtain.) ie THE DIME DIALOGUES, THE LONG LOOKED-FOR COME AT LAST; Ok, ; THE WELCOME HOME. FOR ONE MALE AND THREE FEMALES. Screnz I.—Mavup Perrrs, on stage, soliloquizing. Mavup. Well, here I have been wandering up and down the streets ever since early morning. Among the hundreds of people I have passed not one has given a ‘kindly look or smile. 1am not as well dressed as I used to be, but poor mother cannot now afford to clothe me any better. She works hard from day to day for our support. If only brother and | could get something to do, we might lighten her labors. But noone wants poor children in their employ. Brother is a good boy and willing to do everything he can; and his anxiety for mother makes him very sad. It war not always so. When papa was with us, we lived in a comfortable home; but now, how changed! _ Our pretty home, which we had to leave, is now 1n other hands, and we live in two dingy little rooms in an attic. I wonder how poor mother can be so cheerful under her sore trials. When.bro- ther and I sometimes lament over our unhappy lot, dear mother says we ought to be grateful that matters are no worse. I started out to-day determined to secure some employment for my brother, but everywhere it is ‘‘ No! I don’t want a boy!” Oh, dear! (Sighs.) How little the rich know of the sufferings and humiliations of the poor! Living in ease, and enjoying all the luxuries heart can wish, they scarcely give a thought to the misery and unhappiness of those who are living almost within the shadows of their fine houses. What beautiful churches I passed to-day! In several of them I heard tke sweetest music! As I listened tears would come. i thought of that brighter and better world where . strains of entrancing music ever float from the great celestial choir close by the throne of God. There there will be no poverty, no want, no unhappiness—no sick or poor—only;those who are worthy of God’s love. (inter GRACE.) Grace. Why, little girl, what are you doing here? What is the matter? You look so sad. _ Mavp, I was just thinking what the poor have to endure ae cf THE LONG LOOKED-FOR COME AT. LAST. 65 in this world, and how happy they would be some day in that glorious Home where their toils and cares forever end. G. You are rather young to grow sad over such serious matters, What has happened to make you so downcast and forlorn? Mavp. Oh, miss, you cannot imagine the distress I have passed through during the last three years. G. Won't you tell me your troubles? Iam sure you can confide in me: I will help you all I can, and I know papa will do everything in his power, for he is very kind and good. W hat is your name and where do you live? Mavup. My name is Maud Peers, and I live about two squares from here, in a narrow court on the fourth floor in an uncomfortable attic. Mother takes in sewing and fine washing, but people pay her so little that we often are severely pressed even for food If only my brother could get something to do. He is a guod boy, and would do everything to please if he was only given a trial. G. Dear girl! I believe every word you say. It is a burn- ing shame that those who are so eager to work should find nothing to do, and be treated so intumanly in a rich com- munity like ours, I will tell papa all about your circum- stances and I know he will do ail he can to help you. He was very poor once, but now we have a good home and he is very kind to those in need, as he once was. Maun. (ZakesGracr by the hand.) May Iask your name? You are so sweet and sympathizing, I wish you was my sis- ter, and was always with me. I would love you ever so much. ; G. Yes, that would be very nice. (Puts arm around Mavup’s neck and kisses her.) have two brothers but no’ sis- ter; and I know that I could love you, too, for you are so gen tle and unassuming. I will ask mamma to let you stay with me a week, and I know she will give her consent. Mavup. lf only my brother had something to do, to relieve poor mother, I would be so glad to go with you to your home for a short time. But, as it is, we are both needed at home, to comfort poor, dear mamma. : G. Well, you shall go: with me before long, and I know that papa and mamma will both welcome you.. And— Oh, I almost forgot! I heard papaspeaking this morning of getting a good, active boy in his own store, I will tell him about your brother, and papa will surely take him. How old is your brother? Maup. He will be thirteen next month. Oh, I would be so glad if, your father would take Claude, and I know mother would be delighted, too. He is a dear, good brother, and so kind to mother and me. We love him very much. G. Well, I think the boy papa had left to-day. If your AS 66 THE DIME DIALOGUES, brother can come to papa’s office to-morrow morning, about nine o’clock, he will be sure of the place. I will see to thar. Here is a card, with the number and street of the store. (Hands card.) Mavp. You are certainly the swectest and best girl I ever met. I can never repay your kindness. G. Why, is kindness such a rare gift that you must thank me for the few kind words that I have uttered? Mavup. Ah, my dear friend, you cannot understand how the poor are spurned by the rich of this great ety. Our experience of three years would tell a sad story, if written, G. Well, never mind the past. You shall have kind friends in the future. But, my dear Maud, I would like very much to know something of your past history. Mavup. Well, to be brief: About three years ago we had a comfortable and happy home. Father was not with us much, for persons who follow a seafaring life are often away for many months at atime. But, when he did come home from his voyages, what a happy little group we were! Our joy was then complete, for each would receive some valuable gift as a token of his love for us all. (Puts her hands over her face and begins to cry.) G. (Tries to comfort Maun.) Bt, why are you crying, Maud? You ought to rejoice at those recollections. Your papa will no doubt bring you other and more costly presents when he returns. Mavup. Oh, I cannot help crying when I think how good and kind he was, and then to be taken from us so suddenly. One beautiful morning, in the beginning of April, after hav- ing been at home for several weeks, he bade us an affectionate farewell. Little did we think that good-by was to be the last, But, so it proved, for he never came back. How the weeks and months went by in agony to us when we received no let- ter from papa! Nearly six months passed when, one day we received a letter from the captain of another vessel, stating that the ship which papa owned had gone down, and that all on board had perished. We thought for a long time that per- haps he might have been saved, but now three years have gone by and we have heard nothing from him. Mother has given up all hope, for we have written to all the towns and cities in foreign lands where papa traded, but all to no pur- pose. . The only answer we received was, that on that terrible night of June, amid a most terrific hurricane, the Lone Star went down with all on board. Another vessel was near-by, and saw the signals of distress, but before the gale ceased, or any assistance could be given, the Lone Star disappeared. G That was certainty a dreadful calamity It makes me shiver to think of it. Oh, I can imagine how I would feel if my own papa had been lost at. sea. My poor, sweet friend! I * oe ~~ @ t THE LONG LOOKED-FOR COME AT LAST. shall love you more than ever. But, dear, had we not better go home? It is getting late, and our parents may be worried about us. I will tell papa and mamma the dreadful loss you have sustained. I will see you in a short time again. So good-by for the present. Mavup. Good-by, dear Grace. - (Hxeunt.) (Curtain.) Scenz Il.—Same as before. (Maun enters at one side of stage, holding an open letter in her hand and looking happy. GRACE enters from opposite side. They embrace.) : Maup. Oh, my dear friend, how happy I feel since we met. Ihave wept for joy almost all the day. G. Why, what has happened, Maud? Mavp. This morning I received a letter from the postman for mamma, and as soon as I glanced at the address, I knew it ‘was from papa! @. Then he is alive, is he? j Mavup. Oh, yes; he is alive, and will be home ia a few ays. : G. My dear Maud, won’t you read the letter to me? Let me rejoice with you in your happiness. Maup. Certainly I will let you hear everything. (Reads letter.) “My Das WIFE AND CHILDREN :— “You have no doubt long since given me up for lost. But I am alive and in excellent health, preserved from death for your sakes. On the night of that fearful storm of June 10th, 1888, over three years ago, as our noble ship, the Lone Star, went down, we bade each other a hasty farewell. I heard but a few gurgling sounds from our brave crew, and all was over. A few moments later my hand came in contact with something which I soon found to be the hatch from the fore run of our ship. Although nearly exhausted, I drew myself up, and for the moment, at least, was preserved. By the dim light of the eastern horizon I could discern two of our noble fellows struggling in the waves. By cheering and encouraging them, they reached the hatch-float, and to my surprise I saw it was the second mate and one of my bravest sailors, who were soon safely on our frail raft. To this we clung until morning, when, not far distant, we spied a small island, and the wind being favorable, we soon drifted to shore. Here several of the natives met us and we were made as comfortable as we could expect from a semi-barbarous people. Weeks and months passed, but not a vessel was sighted. Nearly a year had gone | i 68 THE DIME DIALOGUES. / by when one day a little white sp-ck in the distance showed : that a sail was approaching. How eagerly we watched! But before coming within hailing distance, she suddenly veered in her course and was soon lost in the distant horizon. We fairly sickened at the disappointment. ‘One year more was spent on our lonely island, then ang other, and despair bad almost given way to insanity, when, early one morning, a vessel was sighted rapidly approaching our island. We shouted and danced for joy at the sight. It soon became evident that the vessel intended to land. Ina few minutes the anchor was cast, and six ef the ship’s crew came asbore. What was my surprise and joy, to find my old friend und schoolmate, Lieutenant Gibbons, among the num- ber! You can imagine our greeting. The lieutenant was at first speechless with amazement, then he said: ‘ Why, is it possible that this is Captain Peers? Can it be that the dead is alive and the lost is found?’ as he grasped my hand. Expla- nations followed, and in half an hour we were on the High- Jand Light, and on our way to the West Indies. Nothing special intervening, I will reach the city in about four days, when I feel assured that I will receive a happy greeting, and when J will have a grand surprise for you all. “* Affectionately yours, JAMES PEERS.” G. Oh, Maud, to meet your dear papa after his long ab- sence surely will be happiness inexpressible. Let me rejoice with you, my sweet friend! Maup. Yes, happiness inexpressible. I do not think that I will sleep much until papa comes. I can hardly wait. The hours will seem as days. But, here comes mamma. Mrs. Peers. Why, Maud, where have you been so long? Your brother and I have been hunting you for the last hour. We were very much worried, and thought something had happened you. Mavup. Well, mother, something did happen, but it will be a glorious surprise to you, I] have such good news to tell you. Shortly after I left the hcuse I met the postman, who . gave me this letter. As soon as I glanced at the address I knew it was from papa. He is alive and well, and will be home in a few days. Mrs. P. Kind Heaven! can it ,be? I have prayed. for three long years .for the return of my husband. and now, when all my hopes were fast vanishing, the good Lord has answered my prayers! Last night a strange feeling took pos- men leaving a small island. I losked more closely, and saw distinctly the tall form of my husband. In a few minutes the three men were on board a ship, and a happy greeting fol- lowed. Your dear papa was the center of attraction. Maup, - Why, mother, what you relate really happened, session of me. Ido not think I was dreaming. J saw three . AN HOUR IN THE WAITING-ROOM. 91 we’se agreed to j'ine hosses and pull in team together all our lives. Do you say yes to that, dear Zuby? Miss K. Oh, it is so sudden! I feel as if I wanted a few moments to calm my exalted nervous system; aud then—and then— Pere. Oh, sart’in; jess so! We'll hitch, Parson, right here. Farmer A. I say, Parson, itll cheapen matters amazin’ if the bull on ’em got spliced right yer’ an’ now. It'll save heaps of trouble, an’ ne weddin’ gew-gaws tew buy, nor weddin’ feast to a passel ov hungry relations, nor no presents. Mrs. AxTELL. You, Obed! Stop that: Much your wed- din’ cost you! Parson. The idea is an excellent one! Here are three loving couples, all anxious to enter into the glorious estate of wedded life; and though the occasion is impromptu it is roman- tic. Besides, as Farmer Axtell remarks, it will save both expense and a leap of trouble. So I suggest a ceremony now while we wait for the train. Are you agreed? Auy. ‘* Yes’”—‘‘ Yes;” ‘‘Go ahead, Parson,” etc. Rev.-D. Then arrange yourselves there ina row, I will marry you en masse, as it may be termed, and the whole cost to you will be one dollar each, or two dollars a couple. Farmer A. Cheap enough! It cost me a clean five dollar greenback tew— Mrs. AxTELL, You, Obed! Stop that! J paid the minis- ter. So what be you shoutin’ about? Parson. It’s a wholesale transaction, so can be done at wholesale rates. Now arrange yourselves. (A/l drop packages and gripsacks, and arrange themselves in line before the Par- son.) Permit me, on this momentous occasion, to adyert to the exceeding solemnity of this proceeding. You are now about to take upon yourselves life vows—to enter into the banns and bonds of wedlock, which no court of earth should have power to— (Sharp whistle heard eutside. It should be muffled to represent distance away.) Hickory §. There she blows! ‘Train is right on the rail} Bless you, my children, for your happy escape! Bless you! (Dashzs out.) (Head in at door and the call-out: ‘All aboard for New York ! Not a moment to lose, All aboard!” All seize baggage and bundles and make a rush for the door, Pure remains behind.) Pere. (When all are out.) Je-hos-a-phat! But that was a narrow escape! Ill remain until next train. If I knowed ‘that engineer I’d send him my infernal congratulations. Now Vl git, for fear the old gal misses the train, too! (Hxit.) THE. END, | DIME STAN IAT D DIALOGUES For School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments, Nos. 1 to 21 inclusive, 15 t625 Popular Dialogues and Dramas in each book, Each volume 300 12mo pugos, sent post-paid, on receipt of price, ten cents, Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St., N. ¥. These volumes have beon prepared with especial reference to thelr availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schouls and parlors with or with ARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every ge, bo! ont the furniture ef a stage, and suited to SCHOI, th male and femalo, It is fair to assume. that ne other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues aud draiuas of wit, pathos, Luinor aud sentiment. DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 1, Meeting of the Muses, For nine young ladies. Baiting a Live Engli: For three boy ‘Tasso’s Coronation, male and female. Fashion. For two ladies, The Rehearsal. For six bovs, Which will you Choose? two boys. The Queen of May. For two little girls, The Tea-Party. ‘For four ladies. Three Scenes in Wedded Life. Mateand female. Mrs, Sniffles’ Confession. For male and female. The Mission of the Spirits. Tive young ladies, ‘Hobnobbing. For five spea’ The Secret of Success. For 0 speakers, Young America. Three males and two Jemnles, Sosephine’s Destiny. Four females, one male. The Folly of the Duel. For three male speakers. Dogmatism, For three male speakers, The Ignorant Confounded. Fortwo boys, The Fast Young Men. . Fortwo males, The Year’s Reckoning. 12 females und 1 male, The Village with One Gentleman, For eiglis fox males gad oue male. DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 2, ‘Tho Genius of Liberty. 2 males and 1 female, Cinderellas or, The L! ¢ Doing Good and Saying B The Golden Rule. “Two mules anil two females. The Gift of the Fairy Queen. Several females, Taker ia and D.me For. For two characters, The Country Aunt’s Vis.t to the City. For sev- eral characters. ‘The Two Romans. For two males, Trying the Charac For three males. The Happy Kami ‘or several ‘ani uals,” The Ruinbow.. For several charactera, DIME DIALO ‘The May Queen. For an entire school. Dress Reforin Convention. For ten females. Keening Bad Company. A Farce, For five inales, Courting Under Difficulties, 2 males, 1 feniale. National Representatives. A Burlesque. 4 mates. Escaping the Draft. For numerous males, DIME DIALO ‘The Frost King. For ten or more persons, Starting in I ‘Vhrea males and two females. Faith, Hope and Charity. For three little girls. Darby and Joan. For two males and one female. The May. A Floral Fancy. For six littie girls. ‘The Enchanted Princess. 2 males,several female Wonor to Whom Hon or is Dues 7 males, 1 female The Gentle Client. Forsevoral males, one female Purenology. A Discussion, For twenty males. How to Write ‘ Popular’ Stories. Two males. The New and the Old. For two males, -| A Seusation at Last. For two males. The Greenhorn. For two males. ‘The Three Men of Scies.ce. For four males. The Old Lady’s Will. For four males, ‘The Little Phil sophe For two little girls. How to Find an Heir. For five u-ales. The Virtues, For six young ladica. A Connubial Eclogue. The Public meeting. Five males and one female. The English Traveler. For two mualess GUES, NO, 3. ‘The Genteel Cook. For twomales. Masterpiece. For two males and two females, The Two Romans. For two males. The Same, Secondscens, Fortwo males. Showing the White Feather. 4 inales, 1 femelee ‘The Buttle Cell, A Recitative, For one mile. GUES, NO. 4 The Stubb'etow% Volunteer. 2 males, 1 female, \ Scene from “Paul Pry,” For four males, Vig Charms, For three mules and one female, lock and Broom. Fer three little girls. + AColloqny. For two boys. Says. Fortwo males. 10 Crimes of Dress. A Colloquy. For two boys, Te Reward of Benevolence. Sor four mules, The Letter. For two males, DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 5. The Three Guesses. For school or uo Sentiment, A “Three Persons ” Fa ce. Behind the Curtain, For males and females, Putting on Air. A Colloqny. Fer two malea. ‘The Straight Mork. Forseveral boys. Two ideas of Life. A Collequy. For ten girls. Extract from Marino Faliero. The Eta Pi Society. Five boys and a teacher. Examination Day, Forseveral female characters, Trading in “Traps.” Foraeveral males, The School Boys’ Tribunal. For ten boys. A Loose Tongue. Several males and females, How Not to Get an Answer. For two females. DIME DIALO Ma-try-Money. An Acting Charade. The Six Virtues. For :ix young ladies, The Irishman at Home. For two males, Fashionable Requirements, For three girls, A Bevy of I’s (Eyes). For eight or less little girls GUTS, NO, 6. ‘The Way They Kept aSecret. Male and females.{The Two Counselors, For three males, Tha Poet under Difficulties. For five males. William Tell. For a whole school. The Votaries of Folly. For a number of females, Aunt Betsy’s Beaux. Four females and two males Woman’s Rights. Seven females and two males.|The Libel Suit. Fortwo females and one male Ail is not Gold that Glitters. Mate and females.|Santa Claus, For a number of boys. The Generous Jew. For nix males, Shopping. For three males aud ons fomale Christmas Fairies. For sevoral little girle. The Three Rings For twe malose Dime School Series—si._logies, DIME DIALOGUES No. 7. The two beggars. For fourteen feinales. The earth-child in fairy-laud. For girls, Twenty years hence. ‘fwo females, one male. The way to Windiam. For two males. Womun. A poetic passage at words, Two boys. The ’Olugies. A Colloquy. For two males. How to get rid ofa bore. | For several boys, Boarding-school. Two males and two females, Plea for the pledge. For two males. The ills of dram-drinking. For three boys. True pride. A colloquy. For two females, ‘The two lecturers, Hur numerous males, Two views of life. Colloquy. For two fomales The rights of music. For two females, A hopeless case. A queryin verse. Twogirls, The would-be school-teacher. For two males. Come to life too soon, For three males. Eight o’clock. For two little girls, True dignity. A colloquy. For two boys. Grief two Spee For two males. Hamlet and the ghost. For vwo persons. Little red riding hood, For two temales. New application ofan old rule. Boys and girls, Colored cousins. A colloquy. For twe males, DIME DIALOGUES No. 8. The fairy School. For a number of girls. The enrolling oificer. Three girls and two boys. The base ballenthusiast, For three boyes ‘The girl of the period. ~ For three girls. The fowl rebellion. ‘wo males and one female. Stow butsure. Several males and two females, Caudle’s velocipede. One male and one fomale. Thetigares. For several small children. The trial ot Peter Sloper. For seven’boys, Getting a photograph. Males and females. The society for general improvement. For girls. A nobleman in disguise. Three girls, six boys. Great expectations. For two boys, Playing school. Five females and four males. Clothes for the heathen. One male, one females A hard case. For three boys, Ghosts, For ten females and one male, DIME DIALOGUES No. 9. Advertising for help. For a number of females. America to England, greeting. Far two boys. The old and the new. Four females one male. Choice of trades, For wwolve little boys. The Jap-dog. For two females. Yhe victin, For four females andone male. The aneiist, Far two boys, The trae philosophy For females and males. A goud education, Mc. swe females. The law of human kindness, For two females, Spoiled children. For a mixed school, Brutus and Cassius. Coriolanus and Aufidius, The new scholar. For a number of girls. The self-made man. For three males. The May queen (No. 2.) For a school. Mrs. Lackland’s economy. 4 boys and 3 girls. Should women be given the ballot? For boya. DIME DIALOGUES No, 10, Mrs. Mark Twain’s shoe. One malo, one female. The old flag. School festival. For three boys. The court of folly. For many girls. Great lives. For six boys and six girls. Scandal. For numerous males and females, The light of love. Vor two boys. The flower children. For twelve girls, The deaf uncle. For three boys. A discussion, For two boys. The rehearsal. Fora school. The true way. For three boys and one girl. A practical life lesson. For three girls. The monk and the soldier. For two boys. 1116-1876. pool festival. For two girls. Lord Dundreary’s Visit. 2 males and 2 females, Witches in the cream. For 3 girls and 3 boya. Frenchman. Charade. Numerous characters, : DIME DIALOGUES No, 11. Appearances are very deceitful. For six boys. the conundrum fam‘ly. For male and female. Curing Betsy. Three males and four females. Jack aud the beanstalk. For five characters. The way to do itand not to doit. 3 females. How to become healthy, etc. Mule and female. The only true life. “For two girls, Classic colloquies. For two boys. 3. Gustavus Vase and Cristiern, Uy ‘Tamerlane aud Bajazet. Fashionable dissipation. Yor two little girls. A school charade, For two boys and two girls. Jean Ingelow’s “ Songs of Seven.”” Seven girls, A debate. For four boys. Ragged Dick’s lesson. For three boys. School charade, with tableau, A very questionable story. Tor two boys, » A sell. For three males, The real geutleman. For two boys. DIME DIALOGUES NO, 12. Yankee assurance. For severa Boarders wanted. For sever: When I was young. The most precious herit: The flower-garden fairies, For five little girls. Jemima’s novel. Three males and two females, Beware of the widows, Vox three girls 4 family not to pattern after. Ten characters. Howto maze An weting chav The vacntion . pade. Four hoys sid teacher, ughty boy. Three females and a wiale, . An acting charade. 3 not gold that glitters. Acting proverb, ransit gloria mundi, Acting eliurade, Ni t DIME DIALOGUES NO. 13, Two o'clock in the morning. For three males. An indignation meeting. For several females. Before aud behind the scenes. Several charact’s. ‘Lhe noblest boy. A number of boys and teacher, Blue Beard. A dress piece. For girls and boys. Not so bad as it seems. For several characters. A curbstone moral. For two maledand female, Sense vs. sentiment, Yor parlor and exhibition. Worth, not wea'th. For four boys and a teacher, No such word as fail, Wor several ma‘es. 'The sleeping beauty. Fora schvo',” An innocent intrigue. Two males und a female Old Nably, the fortune-teller. For three girla, Roy-talk, For several little boys. Mother isdead. For several little girls. A practical illustration, For two boys and girl, Mrs. Jonas Jones, Three gents and two ladies. | The born genius. For four gents. More thau one listener, For fuur gents and lady. Who on earth is hel For three girls. ‘The right not to bea pauper, For two beys. Woman nature will out. » For a girls’ school, Benedict and bachelor. For two boys. The cost of a dress, For five persons. The surprise party. Forsix litue girls, A practical demonstration. Por three boys. Di:ae School Seriessialogues, DIME DIALOGUE} No. 14. Refinement. Acting charade. Several charactert Conscience, the arbiter. For lady and gent, How to make mothers happy. For two boye A conclusive arguinent, For two girls, A woniai’s blindness. For three girls. Rum’s work (femperance) For four gents, The fatal mistake. Wor two young ladies, Eyes and nose. For one gent and one lady. Retribution. For a number of boys. DIME DIALOGUES No. 15. Tho fairies’ escapade. Numerous characters. A poet’s perplexit! For six gentlemen. Aliome cure. For two ladies and one gent. The good there is in each. A number of boys, Gentlemen or monkey. For two boys. Phe little philosopher. For two little girls. Auut Poliy’s lesson. For four ladies. A wind-fall. Acting charade. Fora number. Will it pay? For two boys. The heir-at-law. For numerous males, Don’t believe what you hear. for three ladies, Asafet, rule. For three ladies. ‘Che chief's resolve. Extract. For two males, Testing her triends, For several characters, The foreigner’s t oubles, For two ladiés, ‘The cat without an owner, Several characters, Natural selection, For three gentlemen, DIME DIALOGUES No. 16, Polly Ann, For four ladies and one gentleman, The meeting of the winds, For a school. The good they ‘did. For six ladies, The boy who wins. For six gentlemen. Good-by day. A colloquy. For three girls. The sick well man. For three boys. The Investigating committee, For nine ladies, A“ corner”? in rogues, For four boys. The imps of the trunk room. For five girls, The bousters. A Colloquy. For two little girls, Kitty’s funeral. For several little giris, Stratagem. Charade. For several characters, Testing her scholars. For numerous scholars, The world is what we make it Two girls. ‘The old and the new, For gentleman and lady DIME DIALOGUES No, 17, LITTLE FOLKS’ SPEECHES AND DIALOGUES, To be happy you must be good. For two little gils and one boy. Evanescent glory. For a bevy of boys. The little peucemaker, For two little girls. What parts friends, For two little girls. Martha Washington tea party. For five little girls in old-time costume The evil there is in it, For two young bi Wise and foolish little girl. For two girls, A child's inquiries. For small child and teacher, The cooking club. For two girls and others. How to do it. For two boys. A hundred years to come. For boy and girl. Don’t trust f.ces, For several small boys. Above the sk hor two sinall girls, The true heroism. For three little boys. Give us little boys a chance, ‘The story of the plum pudding, (ll be aman, A hittle girl’s rights speech, Jolinny’s opinion of grand- mothers; The boustiug hen, He knows der rest, Asmull buy’s view of corns; Robby’s sermon ; Nobody’s child ; Nutting at grandpa Gray's; Little ‘boy’s view of how Columbus discovered America; little girl’s view; Lit- tle box’s speech on time; A little boy's pock- et, The midnight murder, Robby Kob’s vc. ond sermon; How the baby.came, A boy’ observations, The new slate; A mother’s love; The creownin’ glory ; Baby Luju; Josh Billings on the buinble-bee, wren, alligator; Died yesterday , The chieken’s mistake; Fhe heir apparent, Deliver us from evil, Lon’t want to be good; Only a drunken fellow; The two little rovins; Be slow to conden; A nonsense tale; Little boy’s declamation, A child’s desire, Bogus; The goblin cat; Rub- a-dub, Calumny ; Little chatterbox ; Where are they; A boy’s view; The twenty froge Going to school; A morning bath; The gir! of Dundee, A fancy; Im the sunlight, The new laid egg; The little musician , Idle Ben, Pottery-man;, Then and now, DIME DIALOGUES No, 18. fairy wishes. For several characters. No rove wi-hout a thorn. 2 males and 1 female Too greedy by halt, | For three mules. One good turn deserves another. For 6 ladies. Courting Melinda. For 3 boys and 1 lady, The new scholar. For several boys. The little intercessor. For four ladies, Antecedents. For 3 gentlemen and 3 ladies. Give adogabad name. For tour gentlemen, Spring-time wishes, For six little girls. Lost Charlie; or, the gipsy’s revenge. Io1 aw merous characters, A little tramp. For three little boys. Hard times. For 2 gentlemen and 4 ladies, ‘The lesson well worth learning. For two males and two femules, DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 19, Anawtul mystery. Two females and two males.)The refined simpletons, For four ladfes, Contentment, For five little boys, Who are the saints! For three young g rls. California uncle, Three males and three females. Be «ind to the poor. A little folks’ play. How people are insured. A “ duet,’” Remember Benson. For three males, , Modern education. Three males and one female. Mad with too much lore. For three males. The fairy’ Aunt Eunice’s experiment. For several. warning. Dress piece. For two girls, Mayor. Acting charade. For four characters, |The mysterious GG, Two females and one male, The smoke fiend, For four boys. A kindergarten dialogue. Fora Christmas Fes- tival. Personated by seven characters, The use ofstudy. For three girls. We'll have to mortgage the farm. For one male and two females. An old-fashioned duet, The auction, For numerous characters, q % i 4 ; i ‘I Dime School Secries=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. Jndge not. For teacher and several scholars. Telling dreams, For four little folks. Saved by love. For two boys. Mistaken identity. Two males and three females, Couldy’t read English. For 3 males aud 1 female, 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 three girls and one boy. The silly dispute, For two girls and teacher. Not one there! For four male characters, Foot-print.. For numerous character-. Keeping boarders. Two fem les and three mates, A cure for good. One lady and two gentlemen. The credulous wise-acre. For two males, DIME DIALOGUES, No. 21. For several, A successful donation party. For three wales and Out of debt out of danger. three females, Little Red Riding Hood. How she mule hin prop duet, The house on the hid. Yor four females. Evidence enough. For two males, Worth and wealth. For four females, Waterfull. For several, For two children, |Mark Hastings’return. For four males. Cinderella, For several children. ‘Too much for Aunt Matilda, For three females Wit against wile. Three females and one mais A sudden recovery. For three males. The double 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 gentlemeu and two ladies. That Ne’er-do-well; or, a brother’s lesson. For two nales and tivo feimales. High art; or the new mania. For two girls. Strange adveutures. For two boys, The king’s supper. Yor four girls. A practical exemplification. Fortwo boys. Monsieur ‘thie s in America; or, Yankee vs. Frenchman. For four boys, Doxy’s diplomacy. 3 females and ‘Incident als.’ A Frenchman; or, the outwitted aunt, For two ladies and one gentleman. Titania’s banquet.. For a number of girls, Boys will be boys. Fortwo boys and one girl, Arainy day; or, the school-girl philosophers. For three young ladies, God is love. For a number of scholars. The way he managed. For 2 males, 2 feronles, Fandango, Various characters, white acd others wise. The little doctor. Fortwo tiny girls, A sweet revenge. For four boys. May day. For three little gir s, pn the sublime tothe ridiculous. For 14 males. For five boys, Heart not face. DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23. Rhoda Hunt’s remedy. For 3 fe nales, 1 male. Hans Schmidt’s recommend. For two males, Cheery and Grumble. For two little boys, The phantom doughnuts. For six females, Does it pay! For six males, Company manners and home impoliteness. two males, two feinales and two childrens The glad days. For two little boys. Unfortunate Mr. Brown. For 1 male, 6 females. Thereal cost. For two girls, For A bear garden. For three moles, two females. The busy beee. For four litsie girls. Checkmate. For numerous characters, School-time. For two little girls. Deathacene 2 principal characters and adjuncts. Drossand gvid. Several characters, male and fee male. Confound Miller, For three males, two females, Ignorance vs. justice. For eleven males. Pedants all. For four femules, DIME DIALOGUES, No, 24, The goddess of liberty. For nine 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. Monn is no word for {t. For four ladies. Whimsical. A numer of charact’s, both sexes. Blessed are the peac mukers, Seven young girls. The six brave men. For six boys, Have you heard the news ‘The true queen, Two young girls, Aslight mistake. 4 mules, 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 hor household, A” who: school fancy dress dialo,ue and tiavest.c- DIME DIALOGUES, No, 25. The societies of the delectables and les miser- ables. Four two ladies and two gentlemen. What cach won'd have. 6 little boys &.teacher. Sun-hine through *he clouds, For four ladies, The friend in need. For four males. The hours. For twelve little girls, In doors and out, For tive little boys. Dingbats. For one male and four females, The pound of flesh. For three boys. Beware of the peddlers. 7 mixed characters. Good words. For a number of boys. A friend. For a nuinber of littie girls. 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., For five boys. Crabtree’s wooing, Several characters, Integrity the basis of sllauccess, Two males, A crooked way made straight. Ono gentlaman and one lady. How to “ break in” young nearts. Two ladies and one gentleman. &r The above books are sold by Newadealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any Address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Willam Sty Ns ¥, erage Dime School Se eee er oe ial oa i DIME DIALO Poor sonsins. Three ladies and two gentlemen, Mountains and mole-hills, Six ladies and several spectators, A test that didnot fail Six bors, pee Two ways of seeing things. Two little girls, Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched. Four ladies and a boy. Ailisfairia love and war. 8 ladivs, 2 gentlemen, How uncle Josh got rid cf the legacy, Two males, with several transfurinutions, ries Dialogues, GUES No, 26, The lesson of mercy. Two very small girls. Practice what you preach. Four ladies, Politician, Numerous characters. The canvassing agent. ‘wo males and twe females. Grub, ‘Two males. A slight scare. Three females and one mate, Enibodi.d sunshine. -Three young ladies, How Jim Peters died. Two males. DIME DIALOGUES No. 27. Patsey O’Dowd’s campaign. For three males and one female, Hasty inferences not always just. Numerous 8. Diacontented Annie, For several girls, A double surprise, Four males and one femule. Whit was itt For five ladies. Whiat willcure them! Fora tady and two boys. Independent, For uumerois characters. Each season the best. For four boys. Tred and found wanting. ‘Yor several -malea, A boy’s plot, For several characters. The street girl’s good angel. For two ladies ans two little girls. © That ungratetul little nigger.?? For two males, iff had the money. For three little girls. Appearances are deceitlul. For several Indies aud one gentleman. Love’s protest. For two little girls. An enforced cure. For several characters, Those who preach and those who perform, €ea three males, A gentle conquest, for two young girls, DIME DIALOGUES No, 28. A test that told, For sfx young ladies and two gentienien, Organizing a debating society. For four boys, The awakening, Kor four little giris. The rebuke proper. Vor 3 gentlemen, 2 ladies. Exorcising an evil spirit. Wor six ladies. Hoth sides of the fence. For four males. ‘The spirits of the wood. For two troupes of girls, DIME DIALO Who shall have the dictionary? Wor six typical male characters and two females. The test of bravery, For four boys and teacher, Fortune’s wheel.” For four male characters, The little wsthetes, For six little girls, The yes and no ofsmoke. For three little boys. No references. Six gentlemen and three ladies. An ainazing good boy. One male, one female. What visitationdid. For several ladies. No room for the drone, For three little boys. Arm-chair. For numerous char: r3. Measure for ensure, For four girls, Saved by a dream, For two males and twa females, An infallible sign. For four boys. A good use for inoney. For «ix little girls, An ayreeuble profession, For several characters, GUES No. 29. Simple Simon. For four little bovs. The red light. For tour males, two temales, The sweetest thought. For four little girls, The mhuman monster. 6 ladies, 1 gentleman, Three little fools. For four small boys. Beware of the dog! For three ladies and three © dodgers.” - Joe Hunt’s hunt. For two boys and two girls, Rugs. For six males, DIME DIALCGUES No. 30. Ynvieible heroes. For five young ladles A “colored ” lecture. For four mates. Wishes, Wor five little boys. Look at home, - For three little girls, Fisherman’s luck. For two males and three females. Whiy he didn’t hite him, For several * char- acters,” A fortunate mistake. For six young ladies, one little girl and a boy, ¥ An alphabetical menagerie, For 2 whole school, The higher education. For eight boys, “The vicissitudes of a milliner. For six females, Cat and dog. For two Hittle ones, The sesthete cured. For 2 ladies and 3 gentlemen Jim Broderick’s lesson. For two boys The other side of the story. For five females, The test that told. For five males. Wooing by proxy. For three gentlemen and two ladies. Learning from evil, ‘the teacher’s ruse, girls, Colloquy of nations, For eleven personators, Additional personations for ‘ Goddess of Liberty.’ A scenic piece in Dialogues No. 24. For five boys. _ For ten boys and three we The above books are sold by Newsdealors everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to an” #ddross, on receipt of price, 10 cents each. | BEADLE 4ND ADAMS, Publishere, 98 WilMam St) N-¥e Dime School ee een Maier eas a ar DIME DIALOGUES No. 31. Barr’s boarders. For various characters. Nothing like training, For a number of males. A lively afternoon. - For six males. The bubble. For two little girls. me A new mvther hubbard. For six little girls. Medicine forrheumatiz. For two “cullod pus- Bread on the waters. For four females. sons,” Forninst the scientists. For two males. Vhat book agent, For three males and one fe- Sloman’s angel. or two males and one female.| male, What each would do. For six little girls. The well taught lesson. For five little boys. Twenty dollars a lesson. For eleven males. A turn of the tide. For three male aud three Aunt Betsy’s ruse. For three femules and one] female characters. male. A true carpet-bugger. For three females. For six males. For five males and three The disconcerted supernaturalist. For one male ene metaphy: and audience “ yoives.’ What Humphrey Grandma Grumbleton’s protest. For a“ grand-} females. ma” and several girl grandchildren, DIME DIALOGUES No, 32, ious characters. Polywog versus Wolypog. For numerous citi- ly wog YPOK: A persecuted man For Too curious for comfort. For two males and two} zens. females. {Tongue and temper. For two ladies, Under false guise. For several females and/The flour of the family. For three Jadies and children. one gentleman. A sure guide, For seven males. Midileton’s mistake, For five males, The eight little boys from nonsense land. |A valuable hbor. For one Jady and one boy. How they see the world. For five little girls. The man of che: For two males, The doctor’s office. For several characters, male |Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard at home, For man ard and female. wife. Too much side show, For a number of boys. Morgan’s money. For five males. How Mrs. Ponderous was paid. For four young |T' a ants “of Milea Standish. For school ladies. festiva: DINE DIALOGUES No, 33, The wrong frunk. For several mule eliaracters|Mrs. Arnold’s-misconception.. For two gentle- and one femele, men and three ladi Saucy Jack Lee. For 4 males and 4 fe urls: e ’ The pretty preacher, For two young ladies. Yor 2 males and 2 females. A contrast. For two little girls. A ctly veracious man, For one male and Only Joe. For five ladies and one gentleman. one female, c ‘The tables turned, {or several males. Sympathetic sympathy. For three males and Why did you do itt For a school of little chil-] “two females. dren. Ananias at home. For 1 male and 2 females. She had him there. For one lady and one Ren-| The man from Bangor. Forone gentlenian and tleman. three ladies. A report of the affair, For two gentlemen, lena in two versions, For two boys, DIME DIALOGUES No, 34, It’s English you know. For three (or six) males A warm reception. For 2 males and 2 females. “ and eight fema es. Supposings. For ten little girls, A much misunderstood man, For one male and When I grow up to be a man. For six little twelve impersonators, bas gemnale. boys. The gmss man. For seven maies. Enforcing 2 moral. For three or four males and Mrs. Podberry’s ws On education. For two _ several females. females and s al children, girls. Playing big folks. For several children. pi managed him. For one male, one fe- ve us are little girls good fort For nine iitele male, and child. The oyster resurrection, For two males and two ‘The. eae scientist's reception in Clarfonville females. Cevter. Vor eight males, or seven males and A neighborly quarrel, For two males. one female, Blessed are ihe pure in heart. For four females. |More than she bargained for, For three fumalec What the boys knew of it. or a school—all males; . and one male, DIME DIALOGUES No. 35. Ta the wrong honse, For 2 males and ¥ females.|The Mugwump sisters. For a number of females. The sham of it all. For 3 females and 1 male. |Dolly Madison’s method. For two myles and onw The surest proof, For several males and one fe-| female. male, Miss Lighthead in the country. _ For one male Too much for Jones and Smith, For two males.| and one female. Naughty Boy Blue. For Mother Goose and sev-|The crnel king. _ For seven little boys. eral children. Shoddy and Wool. For 5 males and 6 females, Oniy a working girl. Ford females and 2males.|The, best profession of all. For four little girls How he got even with his enemy. lor 2 males, and one grown person. Mrs. Bigson’s victory. For 1 male and 1 female. Florence Elton’s mistake. For two males and The mysterious boarder. For three females and| two females. nye two males, The bewitched music-box. For two males,” &3 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to an7. sddress, ot receipt of pric @, 10 cents each, g Dime School Series—Dialogue DIME DIALOGUES No. 36. in phalan The king discrowned. For an entire school. The happiest man in the county. } Meeting of the Bulgertown philomelian literary! and two fe We; society. For 5 or more males and 3 females. |The repud ‘Wise and otherwise. For six little boys. Prof. Pach ie For taf} Ps todon. Ford weath Moonshine. For six little girls. i'rhe too guod-looking man. ~ For th Beware of Mr. Oily Gammon. For fouF males. | two feiules. pob Strau Sarab Hannah. For four females. ‘How Cesar conquered. For on¢ The cowboy cousin, For two males and three} _ males and a ‘ rhost.”’ \vlews, females. | Spoons as an intercessor, For thred®ss, ys The proverb children. For six little girls, |How Wiggins was cured. For fourteltezob Sachem, seri DIME DIALOGUES No. 37. esis legen 1 CPiendshi The Fairies’ prisoner. A scenic and dress piece Cherubino and Seraphina. 1m for 4 bo: for a young ladies’ school, or garden party, or The comic valentine. VS 8G ? f patie ertai nt. - oe |The two Roberts, For five males ant eae { The McFlackertys and McDoozlers. For two,Keeping bachelor’s hall, For ny males and three females. | one female. The children of the week. For 7 litle girls. Four wishes. For four little girle. t y Uncle Raspy’s ruse. For 1 male and 4 females, |Things are seldom what they seer ii The land of “ once on-a-time.” 7 little boys. | males and two females. emliss, Jupiter Johnsun’s 4 For one male and one|The charity student. For several ¢ije nie! female and one outsider. {A catch at Jast. For 3 males and 1 f¢ yon The bores of x day. For 4 males and 6 females,|'The bogus doctor. For four males an "8 as Nise “ Rather mixed. For a number of small girls. |Preparin for an exhibition, For 9 socle The ould Oirish tay.’ For several males andtwo| three children. ea females. | cr Havd I DIME DIALOGUES No, 38. 4 tavor a A wild Trishman’s diplomacy. * For five males|Plato Pendexter’s ashes. For four fig a and four females, 4 two males, 2 Aunt Deborsh in the city, For two femiales. — |The spirit of discontent. For nine lit} came A Chinaman incamp. For three males. 'The good strikers, For six little girls Playing hostess. For two females and child. The missing essay. For girls and Tet Slightly hilarious. For four males. The well tuught lesson. For several What:hippened to Hannah, For two males and|/Ephraim Blavk’s politics. For foun cone female. one female. = The awakening of the flowers. For agirl’s school.(The strike that failed, for three boy ) He DIME DIALOGUES No. 39. Bee a Hospitality. For three males and two females. [A decisive failure, For two males}itn a Robert’s experiment. For two males and two} females. tao f-males. Candor wing the day. For seven fermffornb Quite another state of affairs. For five males. Their aspirations. For six boys and «¢ A flowery conference. For several little girls |The big hollow school. For a school a}, and boys. visitors, - Jirsens Slightly mixed. For thrée acting characters and| A very clear demonstration. For tw), hoy’s children. The dream lesson. For two males %pinis Mrs. Dexter’s personal. For four males and two} © females. on 100} fémales. _ Why he did not like the country. Forgrieu Clothes don’t make the man, | For several boys,| and several listeners. Comparisons. For two little girls, Liberty. A spectacular dialogue for A young mutineer. For a little boy and girl. school or dramatic society. Tn seven DIME DIALOGUES No, 40. ° The widow’s might.” For 2males and 4 females. | Deceiving to. win. For two males gy 4 » Developing a developer, For five males, females. ’ %A much needed instance.’ For three males. Retrest the better part of valor. For thew t A pathy understanding. Fortwo boys and two| girls and a boy. japir teachers. The long Jooked-for come at last. Forlye ac The tragedy of the ten little boys, and three females. » for His training day. For 1 male and 2'females Pat answers the advertisement. For 2yy ob The society for the suppression of scandal. For | Uncle David’s party. For a number (nted # number of females, cipants. n’s 8 The moral of ndream. For two boys and several | Whom the Gods would destroy. For théynd “ dwarfs.’?' stage and for rumerons characters. to tr Wanted: a divorce. For 2 males and 1 female. | Sunday School how and then. For 2 Ntlogs) Meddling with Santa Claus, For a number of | An hour in the waiting-room. For ten)", characters. and nnimerous traveleras Ete (38> The above books are aold by Newsdealers every where, or will be sent, post-paid) address, on receipt of price, 10.cents each. ne BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St. Ny } { | / DIME SCHOOL SERIES,—Speakers. } —{ DIME SERIO-COMIC SPEAKER, No. 19. . in phalanx,|Sour grapes, Pompey Squash, Smart boy’s opintam, ty. } The unwritten ‘Claws,’ Mr. Lo’s new version, |The venomous worm, * ) : fe The ager, |The midnight express, (Corns, wo f top, Fish, |Morality’s worst enemy|Up early, For/d weather,'Judge not thy brother, |The silent teacher, Not so easy, ‘or th The dog St. Bernard, ‘The working people, |Dead beat in politics, bob Strauss,| The liberal candidate, ‘Lhe moneyless man, {War and dueling, ng. A boy’s opinion of hens, {Strike through the knot,|Horses, A protest, ‘views, Good alone are great, An agricultural address,|Excelsior, threless, Che great Napoleon, The new scriptures, |Puddy’s version of ox- -fourteltegoblie. tie two lives, 'The trombone, celsior, yachem, Uhe present age, Don’t despond, The close, hard man, ’s sermon,|At midnight, The mill cannot ergy oles and application, oung ladiea,| Good- niglit, What becaine of @ lie, io id Scrooge, Truth, pe and then, Man, generically con- ale gman ee sendship, The funny man, How ub vos dot for pie seers Pleasure, )The iittle orator, Early rising, cheiical wedding. ane ery ; DIME SELECT SPEAKER, No. 20. la. f t seer Penalty of selfishn ss, yNow is the time, ‘Won’t you let my papa ®public, Lights Out, Exhortation to patriots,| work il gijthe night, {Clothes don’t make the|He is everywhere, Conscience the best 11 year, man, SA dream of darkness, uide, e antight road, |The lust man, ligiow the’ keystone, | Whom to honor, ‘or 40 society,” |Mind your own. business|Scorn of office, The lords of labor, ichie, |My Fourth of July sen-|/Who are the tree? Early rising, lecious gift, | timents, The city on the hill, Pumpernickel and Pep» Hand moral My Esquimaux friend, |How to save the Re- schikoff, Story of the little rid hin Only a tramp, °y 4 My castle in’Spain, The good old times, ge them, plibor Slionny Schwartz, Monmouth, Time's soliloquy pie th, The Lidian’s wrongs, Hope, - Find @ way 0) ee Address to young men, |Moral Desolation, The musquito hunt, iri camelias, (Beautiful Snow, Self-evident truths, 1 The hero, “ Ped 5 ral | DIME FUNNY SPEAKER, No. 21. oun Mlers eluci-}One hundred years ago,|The new mythology Joan of Are, r De’sperience ob de Reb-| _.(Vuiewn (The blessings ‘of. terra boy oy ter Sthars| ’rend Quacko Strougy The new mythology] ite, Rpees A dollar orttwo, (Pan,) ‘The people, ‘WDowd’s pat-|On somewnie hash, The new. mythology |Thermopyle, 1 tere money is king, (Brechus,) Cates” meen ¢lub-ora=|Professor Dinkelspeig ei-|1_kinnod trink to-nighd, Jim’ Bhidso+ or, tha em man on the origin of/The mew. church doc-| Prairie Belle, om 5. ornbush On| lite, trine, |Aeatastrophic ditty, id ¢ s Konsentrated wiadum, |Wilyum?s watermillion,, The maniac’s defense, ay \ Joseph Brown and thejJosish Axtell’s oration, Woman, God bl.ss herd dir season, mince pie, Parson Barebones’s an>; Be miserable, % ‘Ws boy’s lament, Jolin Jenkins’s sermon, | athema, | Dodds versus. Daubs, ©8 fining,’ parody on “Tell ané|Cesar Squash on heat, |The Cadi’s judgment, roe Mores ye winged winds,’’ Fritz Valdher is made a) That calf, OM gricul A foggy day, _ 1 mason. j DIME JOLLY SPEAKER, NO, 22. r The delights of Spring, |A weak ease, A net declaration of ‘|Josh Bijlings’s views, |They may be bappy yet, legatpenden ces Rensteses, Orpheus, A side view,|The jolly old fellow. 6 ir Teotitre ont™Mow tew pik out a/Persens: A “classic,” | Christinas welcome, th + Wesermellon, Rigid information, My first Cont,» thew time, How-ew pik out a dog|/The fanny man, The Sees _ wapirit race,” | /How tw pik outa kat| Don’t give it away, A patriotic “splurge,!*” xe achool y How tew pik out aA dark warning. Aj The good old tines, in. of for th 18,) 9 wife, “colored Sdiasertation|, deed! A cong atulas i ty ob fan, © This side and that, An awful warning. An T ‘nted discoverer, | Nocturna! mewsings, effective appeal, 'n’s score, The lunatic’s reverie, | De parson sowed de seed nd der lobster,|A bathetic ballad, Pompey’s Thanksgiving The ear, turkey, g, tramp. s Mt of the season, Backbone, The new essay on man, tory reminder, Stealing the sacred fire, The story of Prouie theus modernized, The owl and the puasy- cat, The above hooks’are sold by Newsdealers everywaere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any on receipt of price, 10 centweach, 2 \ Dime School Serics=Speakers, DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No, 23. Dats wat’s de matter, ‘Tire Mississippi miracle, . Ven te tide cous iny at jams vot Mary haf] Bat “0 Flaherty on wo- 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, {would I were a boy again, A pathetic story, All about bee, Scandal, A dark side view,” ser vay, earning Germany Mary’s shinall vite lamb A healthy discourse, Tobius av to speak, Old Mrs. Grimes, A parody, Mars and cate, Bill Underwood, pilot, Old Granley, The pill peddler’s ora- tion. Widder words, Green’s last Lntest Chinese outrage,) The manifest destiny of the Irishmen, Peggy McCann, Sprays from Josh Bil- Jings, De circumstances ob de sitiwation, Dar’s nuiii new under de sun, A Negro ‘religious poem, ‘That.violin Picnic delights, Our candidate’s views, Dundreary’s wisddm, Plain language by truth- {ul Jane, DIME READINGS AND RECITATIONS, The Irishman’s pano- rama The igh tning-rod agent The tragedy at four ace flat, th and Naomi, v of Corson, “a; nan at Min Mooah’s. sur- mnounty Arguing the questior The dim old forest, Rasher at home, The Sergeant's story, Dayid aid Goliah, Dreaming at fourscore, Rum, Why should the spirit | of mortal be proud! The coming mustache, The engineer’s story, A candidate {% prest- dent, Roll call, An accession to the 2m Wolfe and the cate, family, . Ween the cows come home, the donation party, ‘Tommy Taft, A_Michigander France, Not oue to spare, Mrs. Breezy’s lunch, Rock of ages, J. Cesar Pompey Squash’s sermon, in pink Annie’s ticket, The newsboy, Pat’s corr spondence, My neighbor's doga, Condensed My thology Pictus, x The Nereides, Legends uf Attica, The stove-pipe tragedy A doketor’sdinbbles, The coming man, ’ Tye illigant Juldoon’, 8, That. little baby round the corner, ® A genewine Inference, An’ invitation to, d bird of liberty, The crow; Out weat. afulr at No. 24, Death of th? owd squire! Mein tog Shneid, At Elberon, The cry of womanhood The judgment day, The burst bubble, Curfew must not ring, to-night, The swell; ithe water mill. Sain’s letter, Footsteps of the dead, Charity, An essay onjcheck, é ¥ DIME BURLESQUE SPEAKER, No. 25. Buckeye Bill tey. Peter Bill’s warn- Flenty Small*s procla- mation, . The mother-in-law, ae Agh eos, Widow O’Shane’s| * athaling’ con iia: oA Ape 's experience, Thy“ fecee and ¢ al”? humbug, * "Saipio Scroggs’s ques- tion The treacliery of Jones,| Declination Shtichen oa Trendwater < A’Loudwillé serving the prody?? ot's Back to Griggshy’s, Advice to a young man, The plagues of Egynt, Julius — Carsar Su | ner’s views, Sohn Jones—his horn, | Sentiment, ‘ Bustin’? tie cpt nab, Ndiket, dite sotnes 01, Jpfthvod Santho-Brownisamad, Pilldusta taydhidy, The collepfan’ illum | ate: | Waele Cuff “ rises fur - *ter ’aplain,’”” Asgorted women, The critic at work, | Fortunate Flanders shows his teeth, Guilty, of course, No more E rench, Animile Statistix, i Some things acco yun ted fi Seen! corusca - The poet bold, January Jones defends theeagle, The mule, Brother = ‘Gardner on 's wife’s auntp me of the tne, A short debate on rum, The good woman, rhe clerk of the weatht oa ~~ T hat nobleanimal, mano The bold fi fisherman, Cudjo Hardsin’s pre- Soe “ A tale of two buckets, { Do} Hoboken backet, The swe of old bachee er aay Address tole yinn ess,| Latte his mother used to ass andethe Tark; eohnson’s protest ihe. Seat hetic, ails % plea, ii era and his lolli Getting xe photopeal As others see us, red,| ‘Phe cotton fieid land, hen tree,” Signs of summer, Mr. Shivepere} A “fish story.” for'me, make, Set ’em oud! ankee dourtship, The day we celebrate, | Dot Fritzy, he pi aw The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, pores to-any s address, on receipt of price, 10 conts each, BEADLE AND ADAMS. Publishers,.93 Whitlam St, Ns x : “¢