DIALOGUES No, 30.

BEADLE AND ADA ‘MS, 98 WILLIAM ST, NEW YORK.
The New York News Co., 18 Beekman St.

 

 

 

 

 
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x
THE DIME

DIALOGUES No.30.

TWENTY DELIGHTFUL AND “TAKING” PIECES

FOR

SCHOOLS, EXHIBITIONS AND ENTERTAINMENTS

AND FOR

PARLOR AND AMATEUR THEATRICALS.

PREPARED EXPRESSLY FOR THIS SERIES.

NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.

 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, py

BEADLE AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

 

 
 

CONTENTS.

 

IL PAGE
INVISIBLE HEROES; or, WHat tHE TetepHone Dip.... ...... -.. 9
A Dress Drama for Parlor Exhibition, or Amateur Theatricals,
For Five Young Ladies. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.

Tl.
A “COLORED” LECTURE. 32.0 0020 0.0 cece eee sees weSet ate tepeat 18
For Four Males. By H. Elliott McBride.
TI.
WRISIRNS Scbdcob dices ldeees Hecke 6 Pievsck eg aeOan to ances 22
A Dialogue In Verse. For Five Little Boys. By Frank Snelling.
Iv.
LOOK AT HOME! ... .. LEE LICR
A Rhymed Jingle and Chorus. For ‘Three Little Girls.
. Vv.
FISHERMAN’S LUCK; or, Nor So Bap As He SEEMED ............ 2A

A Domestic Reunion. For Two Males and Three Females. By
Frank §. Finn.

VL
WHY HE DIDN'T ee ta. anes repre sae aie 30
An Office Rape ise For Several ‘‘ Characters.” By E. D. Balch,

VII.
A FORTUNATE MISTAKE; or, Wat Came or a Sona.. -
A Street eae For Six Young Ladies, One Little ‘Girl ‘and: a
Boy. By the Principal of the Northville Academy.
VII.

AN ALPHABETICAL MENAGERIE ......0.-cceree sees senses seven 83

A Comicel Concaténation of *‘ Animals.” For a Whole School. ‘By
Aunty Victoria.

x.
SSR GOR DUA TION <3 .f750 spe eaters uae was Scke age ee 41
A College Campus Row. For Eight Boys. By A Lafayette Junior.
: %

THE VICISSITUDES OF A MILLINER; or, Taosz Dreapror Girts. 45

A New School for Scandal. For Six Females. By Anthor of “ In-
human Monster ” (No. 29), “ Exorcising an Evil Spirit” (No. 28), ete.

RNA AN GAS ison ng hsceweied quick tos. 950s ne mpamems.e see ved 49

A Me-ew an Bow-wor. For Two Little Ones. By Author of
*“ Alphabetical Menageric.”

 
   

viii CONTENTS.

 

 
  
  

 
 

XII. PAGE
THE ASSTHETE CURED; or, How Buinp Sue Was..

A Parlor or Exhibition Drama, For Two Ladies and Three Gentle-
men. By Dorothea Deems.

    
     
 
 
 

 
 

JIM BRODERICK’S LESSON.
A Colloquy. For Two Boys.

   
   
 

By H. A. Greg.

 
 

XIV.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY ... 0:03: 2c2 at. cence 60
A Village Confab. For Five Females. By Frank 8. Finn.

 

    

 

    
 

  

XV.
PHEHPEST THAT TOLD iikus Ys. . Pell Sauk aed da oeaeas Seerae 6
A Lesson in Disguise. For Five Males. By Cyril Deane.

 
   
   
    
    
    
 
  
   
  

XVI

WOOING BY PROXY; or, Manevvirtxa Miss Dover ...... ¢ RB 70
A Parlor and Amateur Drama. For Two Ladies and moran Gentle-
men. By Lillian St. John.
XVIil.
DAMA RNING BROM Vike so fo a rie OU ve teui ben conn, av aPeoes one 79
A School Difficulty. For Five Boys. By an Oberlin Teacher.

XVIII.
THE TEACHER'S RUSE; or, Weo Won THE PRIZE}... ............. 81
For Ten Boys and Three Girls. By S. Jennie Smith.

¢

xIx.

COLLOQUY OF NATIONS; or, Liserty Srexine * FR xe es se &
A Dress and Scenic Piece. For Eleven Personators. As Acted at

the Elmira Female College.
xX.

ADDITIONAL PERSONATIONS FOR “GODDESS OF LIBERTY.” 90
A Scenic Piece in Dialogues No. 24,

  
i

Pace |

le-

THE DIME

DIALOGUES No.30.

INVISIBLE HEROES, OR WHAT THE TELEPHONE
DID. 5

Scene 1.—A parlor. Several girls prettily dressed, grouped
about a table looking at a photograph. Another table set with
tea things.

Mary. Have you seen him?

Sara. No, have you?

Frora. Mamma has met him twice.

Dora. My brother introduced him to the club.

M. Well, the long suspense will soon be over; he has ac-
cepted and will be here to our four o'clock tea.

8. His photo. is lovely, anyhow.

F. A perfect Prince Charming!

D. What a nice necktie! Such an air about it!

8. and M. I wonder if he is esthetic?

-F. No, indeed! He has too much taste. To be esthetic

now isto be behind the age. Oh dear, I wish it were four

o'clock! Iam perishing with impatience! :

D. See here, girls; this will never do!—he can’t fall in love
with ai of us. I foresee a tragic time. Jealousies, heart-
breaks, broken friendships—this will be too, too much!

M. It will. Let us settle it before he comes.

At. How?

M. By drawing lots. Have we a broom among us? I will
ring for one. (Rings bell. Hnter Kirry, waitress, in cap and —
white wpron.)

Kirry. Did ye ring, miss?

: ee Yes, Kitty. Bring us seven broom splints, different

engths,

K. Is it broom splints in ‘arnest ye would be afther having?

S. Kitty, we are in sober earnest. This is a momentous
occasion. Hasten, Kitty, please! The hour draws nigh!
(Kirry disappears.)

M. Listen. The happy girl who draws the shortest splint

 
 

   

10 THE DIME DIALOGUES,

  

is to have the sole and exclusive privilege of devoting herself
to our famous guest—the fascinating Mr. D’Orsay Dahlia.
All the others are bound, in honor, to facilitate her chances’ | *
They must vail their beauty and restrain their wit. This will |
be very hard on some.of us, but, if we agree to the broom-
splint test, it must be done. Are we agreed?

ALL. Weare.

D. Oh, I hope I will draw the shortest! A man who can
tic his cravat like that moves the innermost depths of my soul.
I always dave adored the beautiful!

(Re-enter K1?vvy.)

K. Here they are, Miss Mary. All of a different length.
Will you explain it tome; miss? Sure, I’d like to understand
about it. :

F, Will you promise never to tell, as sure as you live and
draw the breath of life, Kitty?

K. Shure! Id die first!

D. You know whom Miss Mary expects to tea?—the young
gentleman from over the water—

K. Indade, an’ Ido! I hear he’s a swate young gen—_

D. Heis. Weall want him. The one who draws the
shortest splint is to have the right to catch him if she can.

K. Arrah, did I ever hear the likes o’ that now? he, he, he!
Sure—(In a stage whisper, aside toher young mistress,) I only
wish you might. draw the right splint.

M. (In same whisper,) Kitty, you.must give me.a signal,
so I can choose the right one.

    
 
   
 

 

K. Sure an’I will! Take the one as-is forninst the inside -
of my thumb, darlin’. (She turns away ,and arranges: the
splints, With much fuss and great solemnity the girls. choose:
‘ cABy jirst, who iakes the. inside one ; then each holds up her

int,

i tine is the shortest! Thank my stars!

M. (Aside, reproachfully to Krrvy.) You deceived me.

K. (Crestfalien.) Sure, I untherstood it was the longest.
Icouldcry. ..

M. Spare your tears. .I will try to be resigned.

F. Dora, allow me to congratulate you! (Shakes hands,
As each girl goes. through this ceremony with Dora, the maid re-
tives from the room.)

8. It is four o’clock, Dora; how your pulse must palpitate!
Listen! The door bell rung.

‘ M. Yes, I must light the spirit lamp under the silver tea-
ettile,

(Re-enter Kirry, with note, which she hands to her mistress.)

~M. Oh, me! What can have occurred? (Opens note and
reads aloud.) ‘‘ Mr. D’Orsay Dahlia presents his compliments
to Miss Jones and regrets that he is unable to keep his engage-
ment to tea, owing to a sprain of.the ankle by slipping on the

  

ant tani
       
   
      
       
     
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
  
   
 
   
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
   
   

   

INVISIBLE HEROES. il

 
 

| fice. His physician recommends perfect rest, in hopes that
_, the injury may be transient.”
| <A. (Holding up hands.) Ah-h-h! What a disappoint-
_ ment! :
- —. What if he should be unable to attend my german to-
- morrow evening? It would be too ‘utterly dreadful for any-
thing! Yet, after all, (aside) I like Walter Jones so much,
why should I try to charm this English swell? Let the other
_ girls have him! “ Walter's necktie is good enough for me! I
_ will praise my friend Mary to D’Orsay Dahlia instead of try-
th ing for him myself. Walter did not call upon me last evening.
I do believe he is jealous. ‘
8. Girls, something strikes me as strange! Have you not
noticed it? Not one of us has yet seen this noted stranger!
nd He seems to evade us as the rainbow evades its worshipers—
you go where he is and he is not there. It is high time we
made his personal acquaintance. I begin to suspect there is
'§ | no such person as D’Orsay Dahlia.
Why, here is his very photograph!
8. Some one’s photograph; prove it to be his/
F. The papers announced his arrival and report his do-

ings.

S. True; yet am I not convinced. He has disappointed us
once too often.

D. (Aside.) What a foolish idea! Walter told me all
about him. I shall enjoy making Walter madly jealous, but
I shall care for no one but that dear boy, though there should
be forty English swells in our society.

M. Well friends, the tea is drawn, whether the prize is or
not. Let us console ourselves with a cup of Orange Pekoe.
Thirty hours more of intense suspense, before Dora’s german
¢ will afford us the longed-for opportunity to make his lord-
: ship’s personal acquaintance! It is a great trial, but will have
; to be borne. Have patience, girls; my brother will be home
soon—not that I offer Aim as a‘substitute.

D. (Who has picked up newspaper.) Say, girls; listen a mo-
ment! What do you think? Here is an item about Mr. D'Or-
say Dahlia; he has promised to visit the Metropolitan Museum
in the morning at eleven. Let us all go and be on the watch.
We shall know him by his photo. and his limp, for of course
he will limp a little on account of his sprained ankle; and we
can pass judgment on him before we meet him at the german.

F. Thave long intended a visit to the Museum.

8. The ancient pottery is so interesting!

D. Yes. 1 wonderif the ancient Egyptians wore neckties?

M. I hear my brother’s voice.

D. (Aside) At last!
(Curtain falls.)

 
  

 
   
  
   
    
 
    
  
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  

  

12 TYE DIME DIALOGUES,

   

Scunn II.—ail of the same house.
signal sounds ; she goes to the telephone.

K.. Hallo! (Listens.) She has gone out with a Jot of her
friends. (Jistens.) To the Mathropolitan Museum, Mr. Wal-
ter. (Listens.) About half an hour, sir, since they left the

house. (Listens.) Yes, sir, I think so, sir. They read in the ,
paper as how the English gentleman would be there, and ©
they went fer a peep at him, sir. (JListens.) Yes, Misther | |
Walter; Miss Dora was along, to be sure. It was her as drew |

the shortest broom-splint, yostereay sir; an’ it was mighty
plazed she was, intirely, Misther Walter. (Zistens.) Och,
sure! (Zo the audience.) But it’s the bad language sounds
worse in the telephone! (Zistens.) What do I mane by draw-
ing the shortest broom-splint? Ah, sure, I promised I'd never
tell, but, seeing it’s you, sir, I'll just allow as how they were
drawing lots for the Englishman, as it were, Misther Walter.
(Listens.) Yes, sir; Miss Dora drew it. (Listens.) I told
you she was mighty pl’azed. (Zzstens.) It’s the nature of
young ladies, Mr. Walter; they like a bit fun—why shouldn’t
they? (Listens.) Whist, now, the boy’s unr’asonable! Let
me whisper ye something by tilaphone as I would mind tell-
ing ye to her own handsome face, Mr. Walter. Hush! listen
tome. Miss Dora thinks a power of a certain young gentle-
man—an’ it isn’t Mr. D’Orsay Dahlia, either! (Listens.) Who
is it? Botheration! Whose face do ye see when ye looks in
the glass?—as if plain spache was not enough! She dotes on
the very neckties of somebody whose name I could mention
es kapes a poor girl at the tilaphone from finishing her dust-
ing. (Listens.) Yes, sir, I spose I'll have to make time if ye
orders it. (Zo the audzence.) Faith! ’m to go afther those

~ young ladies this very minute! Mr. Walter is engaged to

bring Mr. D’Orsay Dahlia to call on his sister at one o'clock
an’ it’s twelve this minute! I’m to bring them home. (Goes
toward stairs ; telephone bell rings.) Listen to that, will yees!
the boy is that unr’asonable! he wants me to hurry yet he
kapes me. (Returns toward instrument, which calls again loud-
ly.) Hallo! (Listens.) Yes, sir, I'll be off as soon as ye’ll
be laving me. Yes, sir. I’m swe Miss Dora, bless her purty
face, drew the shortest splint. (Zistens.) How did she lock?
She looked deloighted, sir. (Zo the audience.) Faith, I be-
lave the young fool is waping! his voice sounds like it—it
kind of trimbles an’ chokes up.. I wish he would let me go.
Ah-h! whisht, wirra, wirra! I.know how the pocr b’ye fales
—just as I did when Micky—  (Listens.) Oh, yes! cer-
thainly, Master Walter, Vl watch them as close as a cat

. Watches a mouse. (Zistens.) To be sure, I shail be able to

tell if sho favors him. I'll tell you the honest truth, as sure

  
 
  

Kirry dusting. Telephone

 

  
 

 

 

INVISIBLE HRROES. 13

as my name’s Kitty Connelly. (Door bell rings.) Wait_a mo-
ment, Mr. Walter; I must run to the door a bit. (Goes to
door und opens it: in troop the seven young ladies in their walk-
tng costumes.) Sure, you’ve saved me a journey! Mr. Walter
has just ordered me, Miss Mary, to go way up to the Museum
to bring ye back, because the young Englishman is coming
here to call at one o’clock.

Aut. Ah! how delicious. (Telephone signal sounds.)

K. There he is at it again! That boy is out of his head
with love and jealousy complately! He kapes me dancing
attendance on that telephone—

D. (Following Krrry, while the other girls remove cloaks, hats
ete.) Let me go, Kitty. Tl answer him, You can take the

oung ladies’ things. (In the instrument.) Hallo! (A pause.)

es, this is Kitty. (Léstens, then calls out.) Girls, girls! if
this is not the most peculiar! we came away from the Museum
because he was not there, and now your Ke ariee Mary, tells
Kitty she need not go after us, as Mr. D’Orsay Dahlia has just
sent word that, owing to a too previous engagement, which he
had forgotten, he shall have to defer his calls, but hopes to
have the pleasure of meeting Miss Jones at the german to-
night. This is becoming ridic-- (Telephone signals.) Hallo!
iene, claps her hands softly, laughs to herself while listening.

mitates Kirry when replying.) Sure, she is not to blame for
drawing the shortest splint. Don’t blame the poor darling!
Sure, I thried my best.to have it go to Miss Mary—it was all
my mistake. What bizness is it of yours, anyhow, Mr. Wal-
ter, if the girls like a bit of fun? Sure, they wouldn’t one of
them marry the best man in the world, no indade, not if he
got down on his knees to her; it’s only a bit nonsense! Troth,
the males are a consated set! Didn’t [ hear Miss Dora say, no
longer than yesterday, that she adored Mr. Walter's neckties,
but she couldn’t endure the young gintleman as wore ’em!
You see, sir, a girl may fancy a fellow’s cravat or his mustache
an’ yet despise the dandy who is so vain of them. | (Zistens.)
Desaved you! thried to make you think she loved you!
Well, it’s the soft heart of an Irish girl made me doit. IfI
were to spake my true mind I’d tell you, square, Miss Dora
can’t—abide—you! (Zistens.) (Mimics,) Miserable! don’t
care for anything! Shall never select a necktie with confi-
dence again! Hollow world!—stuffed with sawdust—has a
mind to shoot himself on the spot. Oh, girls, this 7s fun! I
am having a Jovely time at the telephone! Hark! (Listens.)

Lam certain I heard the click of a revolver! | (Listens ; throw _

nr up her hands, screams, Girls crowd around her.) What is
t? ; '

M. Dora, stop moaning and tell me what is wrong. For
Heaven’s sake, speak! 1s D’Orsay Dahlia not coming to the
german, after all? . * brik baad O58

 
   

14 THE DIME. DIALOGUES,

mitted suicide!

Aut. Who?—D’Orsay Dahlia?

D.. Would to Heaven it were!

M. You do not mean my—

D. Your brother!

Aut. (Throwing up their hands in concert.) Oh-h!

D. (Shrieks into the telephone.) Walter Jones! speak to
me! ‘Tell me you are not quite dead! Ah, if you are onl
wounded I will nurse you day and night till you are rat
again. Walter, I was only flirting. Forgive me! I love
you! (Pauses.) He does not speak! He is dead. (faints in

arms of the other girls.)
(Curtain falls.).

 

Scene III.—Parlor of Dora’s house. Flowers or other decora-
tions. The girls, in evening dress. Dora, in white, looking
downcast,

§. Well, Dora darling, here we are, half an hour early, as
you requested. Are youill? You do not seem like yourself.
Ah, I remember!—not yet recovered from the shock of that
terrible suicide! (Girls all laugh.)

M. Hush! you shall not tease Dora. (Puts arm around
Dora.) I think it was wicked and inexcusable of my brother
to play us such a trick. ‘

¥. It was ‘‘ tit for tat, butter for fat.” Dora thought she
~ was fooling him, while, all the time, he was fooling her! It
appears that he recognized her voice at the telephone and re-
solved, by experiment, to decide, whether or not she hated
_ as much as she pretended, so he fired the revolver into the

re-place.

5. Very considerate of him, I am sure! It would have
been fatal to Dora’s german if he had shot himself, After one
has gone to the expense of anew dress one does not care to
contemplate the consequences of such an inconsiderate act.

D. (Sobbing.) I should not care for the shock if I had not
betrayed my true feelings so plainly. (Sod.) Only think,

irls, I told him I loved him! And it is not leap-year, either!

h, it is intolerable!—even in these a of woman’s rights,
I know I shall sink through the floor if I ever again meet him
face to face.

F, Take care, then, to have a feather-bed in the cellar so
you will break no bones going through the floor.

_M. Flora, I scarcely expected such levity at such a time.
(Kisses Dora.) Don’t you see how the poor child suffers? I
would not be in her place for worlds! I shall read my brother
a lecture. Indeed, I began it as'soon as he got home, but he
was in such exuberant spirits I might better have preached

D.. (Wringing her hands.) He has shot himself! Com- |

  

  
 
  
  
  
  

 

     
Com-

c to
nn]
vel]
ove

 to'the side’of the house. I never saw Walter in such a glee.
His face shone with happiness. He kept making puns and
= jumping over the backs of chairs—

= DD.

_ ridicule! Oh, Mary! Mary! how can I ever look him in the
| eyes?

_ of your own optics upon those small blac

 

I Tea
; nt

INVISIBLE HEROES. ~ 15*-

e was making fun of me, I dare say—turning me into

F. Why, that is easy; in the usual ey Focus the rays
points called the
pupils—
D. If it were not my own party I should hide myself at
ee myself up at once in—

—‘ The Uucal chest,
That held the robes of some great ancestors.”
and choke to death while we were dancing. How dramatic!

M. (Soothingly.) Come, Dora darling, you must wipe your
eyes and put on your prettiest looks. It is nine o'clock.

our guests will begin to arrive immediately... Fancy your
eyelids being red-when D’Orsay Dahlia is introduced!

D.. (Spiritedly.), I will brighten up! I will be gayest of the

y. ‘Mary, I was going to resign the English swell to you ;
but now, I shall act upon my rightsas the holder of the shortest
splint, and keep him allto myself. Walter Jones shall find of
what.a girl. is capable who has been basely betrayed into a
declaration of love! Not one word, not one look will he get
from me to-night—not one dance! I shall make believe to be
perfectly infatuated with D’Orsay Dahlia. I will flirt to-night,
if never. before, as if flirting were my vocation. (Hnter Kirry
with note.) Ah, Kitty, you here?.

K. Yes, miss; sure I came to dress my young lady, an’
Nora she asked me, would I wait on the door till she run up
an’ frizzled her bang; so the bell rung, an’ here is a note left
fur ye, miss.

D.. A regret, I suppose. I hope and pray it is from Walter
Jones! (Opens and reads :)

 

  

‘ “Tire CLARENDON, 4 o'clock, Pp, M.
“M. D’Orsay Dahlia’s regrets at losing the pleasure of Miss Brown’s
german, but, as he is just taking a cab for the steamer cn his way home
to England it is impossible for him to be in two places at once.”

Au. (Holding up hands.) Really! Oh, what a blow!

M. A thought strikes me! Dora, let me see the’ note.
(Examines it.) Yes, it is as I suspected! The handwriting is
carefully disguised, but it is that of my brother! All is plain
to me now; there never has been any D’Orsay Dahlia. Wal-
ter has played one of his too many practical jokes on us. He
has sent those paragraphs to the papers—_ -

8. I told you so!

Ant. We must—we will be revenged!

F. Dora, you must be the instrument of our vengeance. -

D, Willingly—too willingly. (Zo Kurry, who, having re- -
  

 
   
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   

16

treated to the hall, reappears, looking flurried.) Whatisit, Kitty?
—more regrets ?

K. Whisht now, miss, but I’ve news fer ye. .Ah, honey,
but there-may be more in the shortest splint than showed on
the outside ov it, entirely! ‘‘ 'There’s many a shlip twixt the
cup an’ the lip,” ‘‘it’s always darkest before dawn.” An’ who
do ye think has arriv’?

Aut. Why, wHo?

K. (Zriumphantly.) None other than Mr. D’Orsay Dablia!

M. Impossible; he sailed this afternoon.

K. But, seeing is bel’aving, sure. Troth, I went to the
door meself. Didn't I know him at wanst by his photography?
as well as his phizognomy? Sure, your brother, Miss Dora,
who was in the hall, spoke to him, an’ I heard Mr. Dahlia
exphlain as how he had resaved a note telling him the parthy
was pos’poned, owing to a death in the family, but, riding by
in a cab, on his way to Mrs. Shoddy’s raciption, he saw the
house lit wp, an’ the carpit laid, an’ the musicians a-goin’ in,
so he just called to see if there was any mistake, an’ he’s up
in the dressing-room this minute, as sure’s me name’s Kitty
Connelly.

M. Walter must have sent him the note! That boy is up
to eae

D. <A death in the family? Humph! I'll be even with
him! Girls, 1 feel more than ever, that we must—we will be
revenged!

M. You have my consent to punish him, Dora. Hush!
Oh, dear! girls, he is coming! Pinch Fie cheeks and bite
your lips: the fateful moment is at hand.

(As door opens, curtain falls.)

THD DIME DIALOGUES.

 

Scene IV.—Later in the evening. Conservatory. A screen of
plants and shrubs. Dora, visible, seated, conversing with some
one near her, but who ts hidden by the shrubs, Sara, Mary
and Fiora crouching in front of the screen in view of audience,
Jinger on lip, but expressing their emotions in their faces.

D. Yes, Walter, lasked you to stay after the company
was gone, because I had something—very particular—to say
to you. Walter, do not think me bold if I speak first. I have
reason to think you like me a little—

Vorcr. A little! Dora, you know I love you! Youknow
all this farce has been with the sole purpose of drawing from
you, sweet one, some proof that you were not indifferent to
me. : : t

D. Let my hand alone, please! Well, Walter, J must ac-
knowledge you. have suéceeded. There is something about
you that J absolutely adore! ie pants

   

     
  

 

meme

— a ictaiatatienyi ani

  
honey,
wed on
ixt the
n’ Who

ablia!

> the
phy ?

 

*INVISIDLE EEROES. £7

VY. Dora, darling, you raise me to the séventh heaven. Do
I dare to ask you what it is?

D. Yes, you may ask me Walter?

VY. What is it, dearest? Tell me, darling.

D. It spoils a man to flatter him.

VY. Not me, dearest. Iam not vain. Iknew you were
fond of me, but I never thought I deserved it, Dora dear.
Oh, no, no, it will not spoil me/ What is it you admire the
most?—is it my eyes, darling?

D. No, Walter, I think not. Your eyes seem to me to be
a little crooked, and they certainly are green.

Y. Perhaps it is my mustache, Dora? I have been told it :

was quite fascinating—waxed.

D. No, Walter; yours is rather red.

V.. My figure, then?” It has been called graceful.

D. Your figure is too short, by halfafoot. 1 like a tall
man, Walter.

V. This is strange. Perhaps, after all, you may fancy

some other man more? I never was made out to be hideous,

before. You adore me, yet you ridicule me.

D. IT never said I adored you, Walter; I said I adored some-
thing adout you. Itis about your neck—it is, in short, your
necktie. I wish you would give it to me to remember you by—
for this night we part, and part forever! Farewell, Walter!
I can never have the face to marry aman after shouting to
him through a telephone, that I loved him! Walter, that was
a ruse! [said it to cheer you up when I believed you had
killed yourself. You are like lamb or goose---I like you better
dead than aliye. The statement—that 1 loved you—made un-
der the pressure of circumstances—was a lie! Asan angel, I
should have respected you—as a man, I am sorry for you.
Do you remember what Mrs. Browning says:—

,_ ‘Learn to win a woman's love,
Nobly, as the thing is high.”
“Yes, I answered you last night;

No, this morning, sir, I say,” ete,
If you have never read the poem, just read it, Walter, will
you? And oh! Ihave something sweet to tell you—don’t

urry away as if the breakfast bell were ringing—Walter, I

am engaged. You cannot be more surprised thanlam. I
expected to enter a convent, with the rest of the girls. We had
all made up our minds to get us to a nunnery, but, the other
six will have to dispense with my society, The truth is, Mr.
Dahlia, is, in reality, Lord D’Orsay Dahlia, and, and, and he
finds me charming; and so—if papa and mamma _ consent—
you know, ete. Don’t be ina hurry, Walter, T want to know
if you will be dear D’Orsay’s best man? Will you? Don’t
kick over those poor flower-pots—dox't/ Girls, girls! what
on earth are you giggling about? Z

 
 
    

  

    
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
   
   

18 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

Grris. . (Springing up, laughing.) We thought we -heard
the telephone bell ring.

M. Yes, I’m sure my brother is wanted. Oh, he has dis-
appeared! Kicked over seven pots of mignonette! Poor boy!
I wanted to tell him we had aiJ changed our minds about the
convent. We.have good reasons, too, every mother’s daughter
of us! We—

ALL. Weare all nese te attend the wedding!

(Curtain falls.)

xs ge x X
A “COLORED” LECTURE.

Characters :—Ctcrro Scoorrr, lecturer; Braxton BieuEy,
Simon Star and Joun Correy, hearers.

Scrnz.—A school-room or hall,
Cicero. My deah hearers: I hab nebber had de honah ob

- appearin’ befo’ yo’ or anybody else as a lecturer, but I appea’

in dat opacity to-night, an’ if { should make any wild ’sertions
or any astonishin’ declamations yo’ mus’ attribute it all to de
pickooliarity ob my position an’ de novelty ob my astonish-
ment.

In de fust place, my deah hearers, I want to say to yo’ dat
Tam in favor ob stirrin’ up ob ebberybody in de mattah ob
politics fo’ dis reason: I hab concluded to run fo’ de legislatur’,
an’ | want yo’ an’ ebberybody else to rouse yo’selves an’ gib
me sich a boost dat I shill be triumphantly selected to dat ele-
vated an’ onportant position.

My deah hearers, de hoss am a noble animal. He has fow’
legs; two ob dem legs are stuck on befo’ an’ two ob dem are
stuck on behin’. Z
. Braxton. It’ought yo’ was goin’ to gib us astump speech
or @ lectur’, an’ now yo’ hab got to talkin’ about de hoss. If
eS go onin disway, yo’ will go to de stable instead ob de legis-

atur’.
C. My dcah hearers, yo’ hab nebber heard any ob de poplar
lectur’s ob de present day, an’ derefo’ yo’ don’t understan’ de
lecturin’ business. If a lecterer wants to hold de minds an’
rivet-de attention ob his audience, he mus’ say startlin’ things
an’ fly from one subjec’ to anodder like lightnin’ on a bender.
Dat is jes’ what I want to do on dis ’casion.

Smon, Go ahead, Cicero, but I ’spect yo'll say some rr
quare rg befo’ yo’ git t'roo—dat is, if yo’ tells de trutfe.

C. My deah hearers, de cow is a noble animal also, Some
tink dat she’s somewhat more insiniwatin’ dan de hoss, but I

ain't pt

eyes i

 
A ‘‘COLORED” LECTURE. 19

ard :
lig ‘| ain’t prepared to acknowledge dat. Jes’ look at de hoss—his
yt eyes flashin’, his nose-holes dilatin’, his tail switchin’. Isn’t

ie dat a noble picter? Whar can yo’ git a nobler?

: Joun. I gib it up, it can’t be did, onless it is de sheep jes’
arter his fleece is taken off an’ he gits up an’ gits like a circus
in de night.

§. - Yo’ hab talked about de hoss an’ de cow. Now what
do yo’ say about de mule? é

C. Inebber had no affection fo’ de mule. I despise him.
I tink he ought to be kicked out ober into China fer de yellar
nigs. He ought nebber to be allowed to run in de same field
wid de hoss nor eat grass off de same pasture wid de cow.
He oughtn’t to be allowed de rights oB animal franchise. But
I waxes too warm when I talks about de mule,

De rambo is one ob de finest apples dat grows in dis section
ob de worl’, an’ I hab no hesitation in sayin’ dat if dere was
a basket ob rambos by my side at de present time dis lectur’
would soon come to a sudden suspension.

J. Somebody run an’ bring him a basket ob rambos.

§. Yaw, yaw, yaw!

B. Yaw, yaw, yaw!

C. De nex’ thing dat I want to call yore special tention to
is de elephant. De elephant is a heavy weight wid large ears
an’ two tails. One ob de tails is on befo’ an’ de odder one is
on behin’. De tail dat is on befo’ is often called a trunk, but
I tink it looks a heap.mo’ like a tail dan a trunk, derefo’ I
call it ahead tail. De elephant is a pow’ful critter an’ can
lam a white man aroun’ widout gloves. De elephant doesn’t
run loose in dis country—he gen’ally runs wid a show, an’
when he walks de streets in a parade he looks as if he didn’t
care much one way or de odder. :

J. Dat’s de case wid dis aujeance, so send de elephant to
de stable,
| S. He is too big for yo’ to handle.

: B. Yaw, yaw! Dat’s a conondrum wid a big head an’ two

tails. Why am de speaker like de elephant?

J. Kase de elephant can’t climb a tree an’ Cicero can’t go
to de legislatur’.

§. Kase he spouts his trunk often.

B. Yaw, yaw! It’s kase bofe is black an’ bofe hes got big _
ears. Yaw, yaw!

C. Oh, dry up an’ be serious wid yer equipoise,

J. Golly—w’at’s dat?

C..-My deah frien’s, I want to tell yo’ a story about a bo
an’ de fust piece of his name was Jawge, He couldn’t te
a lie. :

B. An’ he whacked de cherry tree wid his little hen.

§. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Dat'seggsselent..-. __; 7

. J. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Dat’s a fac’) A hen is a hatchit,

————

 

 

 

 
   
 
 
   
    
   
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
  
    

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

goin’ to talk about befo’ yo’ commence.

C. My hearers, I was gwine to say dat dere was once a
boy, an’ his name was Jawge Washington.

Be An’ his fadder gub him a little whackit. Yaw, yaw,
yaw! :

“ §. An’ he was mighty well please about it. Yaw, yaw,
yaw!
“ J. An’ he went aroun’ blazin’ all de furniture in de house,
an’—

©. Say, who’s delibberin’ dis lectur’? Answer me dat!

B. Oh, yo’ go on an’ say yore part an’ we'll call de oncore.

C. An’ one day de ole man was away from home—dat is,
Jawge’s fadder was away from home.

B. Yes, I understan’. An’ Jawge he took up de whackit
an’ went out into de back yard, an’—

No, dat ain’t correc’, He went out into de garding.

B. See heah, Cicero, [ understan’ de run ob dis story jis’
as well as anybody, an’ I am goin’ to hab my way about it.
I say he went out into de back yard to git ober de fence into
de orchard, Obco’se dat’s de place fo’ de fruit trees. Who
ebber heard ob a garding full ob fruit trees? De idea is on-
sound an’ not eoenEe to Darwin. De garding is de place fo’
de wegetables sich as beans an’ cabbage un’ pas’nips.

C. But Thab read de story ober an’ ober an’ ober again, an’
de story allers said dat Jawge went out into de garding. Ob
co’se de pusson dat wrote de story knowed what he was talkin’
about, you bet! .

B. Well, if de feller wrote it dat way it was a slip ob de
tongue. Sich a thing as habin’ fruit trees in de garding where
Bae eee ought to grow is like fedders on a sheep’s back.

. Yes, it is mighty like dat. But, let Cicero hab his own
way about it an’ let de lecter’ go on.

B. Well, hab yore own way, den about it an’ go on wid
yer electioneering. :

fe
C. Den, as I was sayin’, Jawge took his new hatchet an’.

grinded it up on de whatstone until it was jis’ as sharp as de
razors in Sam Smith’s barber shop.

J. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Dat’s putty good. As sharp as de
razors in Sam Smith’s barber shop. aw, yaw, yaw!

C. An’ den he went out into de garden an’ whacked a
cherry tree—dat is, he chopped it wid dat hatchet.

B. Stop right dar. Dat isn’t correc’—not by ten feet. It
wasn't a cherry tree he whacked—it was a plum tree.

J. Plumtree! Yaw, yaw, yaw! Dat’sa goodone. Why,
it wasn’t neider de one nor de odder. It was a peach tree—a
= large peach tree, an’ one ob dat kin’ dat reproduces from

"GQ. “Who's delibberin’ dis heah Icctur’? Dat's de question

8. Dat’s sich an old story dat anybody can tell what yo’re —

 

dat 1 W
says.

mis-st2

é men, 1
J

tree.

de st

tree—
8

tur’ |

 
 

A, a itat iat se

A “COLORED” LECTURE. 21

dat I wants yo’ all to keep befo’ youre mind's eye, as de poet

says.

3. Why, yo’ is delibberin’ it, ob co’se, but we don’t want any
mis-statements flung out to de worl’, What we want, gen’le-
men, is fax—yes, sah, fax!

J. Yes, dat’s all we want, but yo’ is both wrong about de
tree. LIread.de story las’ Friday mawnin’ befo’ breakfas’ an’
de story stated splicitly an’ ’phatically dat de tree was.a peach
tree—a Seek-no-furder peach, gen’lemen!

8. Jes’ let Cicero hab his own way about it an’ let. de lec-
tur’ go on. . What diff’ence does it make wedder de tree was
a cherry tree, or a peach tree, a white oak or a sassafrac?
Jes’ let de lectur’ go on and don’t git up an argufy about
nuffen,

B. Yes, Mr. Lecterer, yo’ can go ahead an’ we'll overlook
dese little ’crepancies. Arter }2 gits to de legislatur’—

C. Jessso! Well, den, as I was sayin’, Jawge he went out
into de garding one day an’ whacked a fine, large cherry tree.
De ole man was putty mad about it an’ he tore aroun’ mon-
strous, but de ole woman said it didn’t make much diff’ence
fo’ one tree. /

J. No, it didn’t make much diff'ence wid dat tree. Yaw,
yaw, yaw! i

C. Jawge Washington was de fadder ob his country. He
rose to be a great man an’ de country rose to be a great coun-
try. Dar isn’t sich a country in de neighborhood. ‘

S. Dat’s so! Dere isn’t sich a country anywhere in Jack-
son county.

B. Yaw, yaw, yaw!

J. Yaw, yaw, yaw!

C. What's yo’ fellahs laughin’ about? I don’t see nuffin’
funny. Yo’ is determined to stop de lectur’ an’ break up de
meetin’.. Yes, dat’s what yo’ want to do, but yo’ can’t. I's
goin’ right on regardless ob de dangerous surroundin’s. Dis
country is one ob de biggest an’ de noblest in de universe.
Whar is dar so many railroad ties as dar is heah? Whar is
dar so many telegraph poles? Whar, I ax yo’, whar? I

‘might go on in dis strain fo’ many hours an’ dwell upon de

wonders ob dis country, but dese niggas is laughin’ an’ cut-
tin’ up too much. (Starts to walk we stage.) I will derefo’
close dis lectur’ by walkin’ off. ow, yo fellahs can go on
wid de lectur’ if yo’ hab a min’ to. (Zvit.)
Yaw, yaw, yaw! Hatchit! :
J. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Peach tree!
B. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Garding!
(They all laugh together.) Yaw, yaw, yaw! Yaw, yaw, yaw!
(Gurtgatadie sa. vat 24love ae

 

 
   

 

*" THE DIME DIALOGUES,

WISHES.
A RHYMED DIALOGUE. FOR FIVE LITTLE BOYS,

(The first four boys may be dressed, respectively, in the costumes
of a miner, traveler, sailor and fireman.)
FIRST BOY.
Oh, wouldn’t I like to live under the ground,
And dig for the gold in the great hills’ veins;
Where diamonds, and rubies, and sapphires abound,
And silver and copper to add to my gains.
And when I’d enough I could wander about,
Be as rich as a king on his gilded throne;
Such servants I’d have, and, oh, such a “turn-out,”
And be ‘ proud as you please,” because all was my own.
SECOND BOY.
Oh, wouldn’t T like to skim through the air,
And have, for my own, a gorgeous balloon!
In a flight through the clouds I could go everywhere,
And, perhaps, take a meal with the Man in the Moon.
I would be above all and down on you would stare,
And pity you all, who on earth have to stay;
While I, like a bird, could fly through the clear air,
And deem myself ‘‘monarch of all I survey.”
THIRD BOY.
Oh, wouldn’t I like to sail over the sea,
«. To the land of the sun or the regions of cold!
A merry young sailor how I would like to be,
A captain, perhaps, or a commodore bold,
A hammock I'd have, that swings in the breeze;
I’d climb the rope stairs to show I’m not green;
‘When home from a voyage I could then take my ease,
And ‘‘yarn” to my friends the marvels I’d seen.
FOURTH BOY.
Oh, wouldn’t I like the gay fireman’s life,
To run with the engine by night and by day.
To have with the flames a fight and a strife,
Be always on hand the full hose to play.
Yes, a reat fire laddie I’d much like to be,
To live among smoke and devouring flame;
From harm. some woman or child I would free,
And win for myself a young hero’s name.
FIFTH BOY.
The fire-damp dread, is found in the mine,
And balloons have burst on their airy way;
Many vessels have sunk and left not a sign,
And firemen risk precious lives every day.
You had best be content, to be just as you are,
Doing the work meted out to each one
To work, and not wish, is much better, by far;
His labor’s not lost that is marked ‘‘ WELL DONE!”

 

 
   
   

 

 
LOOK AT HOME, 23.

LOOK AT HOME.
A JINGLE.
umes FOR THREE LITTLE GIRLS.

F FIRST GIRL.
‘| Make believe I am a mouse, just to run about. the house,
In the pantry, in the cupboard, on the shelf;
To be merry as I please, while I eat my bread and cheese,
All so cosey in a corner by myself.
I really can’t see why they begrudge a piece of pie
- To a mouse that is hungry for some food;
But I have to peep about, lest the cat should spy me. out,
For she thinks to eat a mouse is good, good, good /

n. SECOND GIRL.

Make believe I am a cat, I would spy what your are at,
- From the pantry, from the cupboard you would hie;
For ’tis surely my belief you’d be nothing but a thief,
And thieves from out this household soon must fly.
You should know it is a sin, thus to craftily creep in,
And steal from out the cupboard what is left;
Tis my duty you to eat, when you steal what’s good and
sweet,
And punishment is due you for your theft.

THIRD GIRL.

Such nonsense, I declare, have I never heard elsewhere.
A robber preaching sermons to a mouse!

Pray who was it stole the fish, out of the dinner dish,
When she thought that not a soul was in the house?

And when my birdie died, and so bitterly I cried,
The cat on her features had a grin;

She was looking quite absurd when she knew she ate the bird,
And she ought to have been punished for the sin.

THE THREE GIRLS IN UNISON,

Some folks will cry, ‘“‘ For shame!” when they are themselves
to blame,
Is the moral of this chatter, you may see.
For faults we may not roam, if we will but ‘look at home,”
A maxim in which you surely must agree,
_ ~~ Should ve eae our playmate took her eyes from off her
! ook,
Tf our eyes on our studies were but placed?
To be idle is most sad, ‘telling tales” is just as bad,
Informers should be detested and disgraced.
Now we will take our leave, and we hope you will believe
An informer or a thief we will not be; PY
We have better work to do—to be noble, good and true,
And to strive from all mischief to be free. :

 

rn nS

 
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
 
    
   
    
   

THE DIME DIALOGUES,

“FISHSRMAN’S LUCK;” or, NOT SO BAD AS HE
SEEMED.
A SEASIDE REUNION.
FOR TWO MALES, AND THREE FEMALES.
Characters :—Mr. Baucom, a fisherman ; Mrs. Batcom, his

wife ; EGA, their adopted son ; Krrrin, niece to the BAL-

coms; Miss Mick uEs, a mischief-maker.

T he scene represents the interior of a fisherman’s hut. A small
table set for supper, on one side of the stage. Lamp lighted.
Mrs, BaLoom and Kirry discovered.

Mrs. Baucom. _I fear it is going to be a wild night for the
wind is rising and the clouds look as dark as though a tempest
was nigh athand. Dear! Dear! J do wish Robert was home.
Iam always in a stew when he is absent. I cannot like thie
water; I never did; and I don’t see why it should be my fate
to live near the sea-shore. The waves have swallowed many
a good ship and crew, and, sometimes of a dark and stormy
night, the tempest keeps me awake and the waves seem to shout
“Give us more! Give us more!’ I know they don’t say any-
thing of the kind, and*that it’s all my fancy, yet, how often
do I think they are crying for Robert, and that, some day, he
may go away never to return and the cruel, cruel sea will have
claimed as its own, another good and true heart. I don’t sce
how I ever came to marry a fisherman when I am so afraid
of the sea; but then, Robert wasn’t a fisherman when I mar-
ried him and it’s through no fault of his own that he is one
now.

Kirrre. Ah, but aunty mine, you would have married him
just the same if he had been one. Now, you just know you
would, and you need not deny it.

Mrs. B. Well, well, Kittie, I suppose I should, I suppose
I should, for love must go where it is sent. Still, Iam al-
ways worried when he is away on the deep and the night is
dark and threatening.

K. Why worry then, aunty, since it does no good?) Why
not trust to luck, or rather trust to Providence? God guards
those on the sea the same as he does those on land.

Mrs. B. Of course you are right; but the cases are differ-
eat between you and me. You haven't a husband exposed to
the elements as I have and, of coursc, cannot feel the same
interest or worry as I do when he is exposed to peril.

K. But I should if I had one. And I feel a deep interest
in, and love for, uncle Rob; he is so good, noble and true.
I cannot forget bis kindness tp me. You know he gave mea
home when I had none, and when I have one of my cwn and
you and he grow old, the- good man at the head of my table

 
iS AEF

‘“‘ TISHERMAN’s LUCH. 25

shall give you both a home or there-will be no good man there.

But, why is it that you and uncle Rob say nothing about the
boy you adopted and brought up? -He must be near twenty
ears old by this time. I asked uncle Rob the other day about
im, but he only seemed troubled and left the cabin. And
now there are tears in your eyes at the mention of his name.

Is he dead?

Mrs. B. Dead tous. When one goes to the bad he had
better be dead, and I would sooner know he was lying under
the sod, innocent and true, than living, false and ungrateful.

K. Is there a sad story back of all this, aunty, mine? Too
sad a one to tell me?

Mrs. B. Yes, indeed, there is a sad story, almost too sad
a one to tell any person, yet I will tell it to you as you will,
of course, hear it some day and you had better hear it from me
than from others, The boy we took from the poor-house and
brought up as our own; we loved him and did as much as an
own father and mother could have done, sacrificing our own
comfort for his, and believing he would be grateful for all
our care and be to us, in our old age, what we had been to
him in his youth. Husband was better off in those days than
now, and doing quite a comfortable business. One day, we
sent Edgar to the bank to deposit five-hundred dollars; the
money was never put in the bank and from that day to this
we have never seen or, heatd of Edgar; so he is as one dead
to us.

K. You think he absconded with the money?

Mrs. B. I know not what else we could think, Robert
was very much enraged at first, and resolved to put officers
on his track; but, afterward, he calmed down, thinking with
kindness what the lad had been to him and not, with anger,

 

as to what he was. He said it was best to leave him to his
conscience. Yes, he must have stolen the hard earnings of
your uncle Robert. Yet, when I think it all over it doesn’t
seem to tally with the other actions of the lad; for he always
appeared to be honest, good and true. This made a different
man of your uncle; he took no interest in his business, con-
sequently failed and we have been forced to take up our abode
by the sea and trust to ‘‘ fisherman’s luck.”

K. Might not something have happened to Edgar? _ Could
he not have been waylaid and murdered?

Mrs. B. Scarcely, in the crowded street, and in broad day-
light. Besides, some friend of ours said he felt firmly con-
vinced that he saw him_on board of ,a.vessel that day just as
she was leaving port. If that were so it would seem positive
proof of bis guilt...

K. I don’t think so, for this friend might have been mis-
taken. Ido et think he will return and clear up his name.

Mrs. B. What makes youthinkso? =

 
 

\
26. THE DIME DIALOGUES.

K. I cannot tell, unless it is because I hope so.
(Enter Miss MickueEs.)

Miss Micxirs, Excuse my making a call on such an un-
canny night, but I feel so lonesome, and thinking you might
be lonesome too, I came in to cheer you up abit. I should
think you’d be in a perfect worry when your husband is out
in tic weather. I should just go into fits all the time. But
then, ny nature is weak and timid like. I’ve brought you a
book full of accounts of shipwrecks and disasters at sea, and
if it doesn’t serve to liven you up a bit, it will, at !east, make
you resigned to your fate if anything should happen to Mr, Bal-
com. It is always best to be prepared for the worst, you know.

K. It seems to me that it is better. not to ‘‘trouble trouble
until trouble troubles us.” Better not meet trouble half-way,
but cheerfully, trustingly, hope for the best.

Miss M. I don’t know as your opinion was asked. The
children of the present age are far too forward and presum-
ing. They are simply frivolous, and think too much of the
gewgaws and fripperies of fashion, when they should concen-
trate their thoughts on something of a more dutiful and seri-
ous nature. For myself, I can always see the broad wings of
the Angel of Death hovering over me.

K. I should not call that a cheerful sight.

Miss M. I don’t know as your opinion was asked. Iam
sure—I am very sure—it was not desired.

Mrs. B. I don’t know how that may be, but I sometimes
thinkit would be better for me,and better for us all, if we
could look on matters as Kittie does—trust more and wo
less; her words and ways often give me courage and teac
mea good lesson. But then, I fear I do not profit by the les-
son; few of us do follow good advice, for the matter of that.

Miss M. ‘The idea of any one being taught a lesson from
such a chit of a girl as Kittie, unless it be that, in noticing
her childish ways, we should avoid being as childish ourselves,
Even if she ¢s capable of giving advice I am sure Id not ac-
knowledge it—least of all, before her and to her very face.

Mrs. B. I don’t see why not. Maybe, you fear it will ~

make her vain, Kittie is not that sort of a girl at all.

Miss M. Not so much that—though mercy knows girls
ail be vain—but because I should not like to acknowledge
that one was wiser than I, especially a mere chit of a girl.

Mrs. B. Good advice is never out of place and should be
taken, no matter from whom it comes.

Miss M. Well, opinions differ. Humph! Have'you heard
Te from that mean miserable scamp you adopted?

rs. B. Not a word.

Miss M. I suppose so. And, what is more, you never
sill, unless you hear he has been in more mischief. You know
I saw him when I visited you in the city and it secmed just

e

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him ant

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7 Mrs

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Pe “ YISHERMAN’S LUCK.” 27

like him to do as he did, he had an awful crafty look about

un- _himandany one could tell at a glance he wasarogue. I would
ight not have trusted him with a five-cent piece and I wonder how
uld | you could have been so deceived in him.

out Mrs. B. He did not seem so to us, and before that last act
3ut he was as honest as the day was long. People often remarked
la - uponhisopen, frankcountenance. [sometimes think he could
nd _ not have been guilty of an intentional crime.

ko 9 K. And I shall never think so.

- Miss M. Wait until your opinion is asked. ‘‘ Children
r. | should be seen and not heard.” Do pay some deference to
e | your elders.

; K. Hark! That is uncle’s L and he is not alone!
_ Auntie, something has happened, I know!
; Miss M. Picked up another ungrateful tramp, I reckon.

(Enter Mr. BAtcom and Epear.)

Mr. B. No time to talk now, good folks. Here’s a man
I picked up out of the water. Follow me, sir, and T’ll find
some dry clothes for you up-stairs. This way, sir.

(Lakes light and evils with EpGan.)

Miss M. Just like a man, picking up every one, no matter
who it may be.

K. Just like dear, good and kind uncle Rob to aid every
suffering creature and help all in distress.

Miss M. And much reward he gets for doing it all.

K. He doesn’t seek for reward; the consciousness of having
done a good deed is reward enough for him,

Miss M. I think you chatter a great deal too much.

K. I only say what my heart tells me to. Becanse one
person may have treated us ill is no reason we should distrust
every one else. A sweet world this would be if all were of
your way of thinking!

Miss M. Pah! Much you know about it! Better believe
every one to be dishonest until proved otherwise.

(Re-enter Mr. BALcoM.)

Mr. B. Hard philosophy, that. Would you wish to be
judged by that same rule, yourself?

Miss M. Humph! There’s a vast difference between my-
self and other folks, I should hope. My record is clear, that
is sure.

Mr. B. Perhaps it is, but I would not want every one to
have so uncharitable a creed as yours. Are we living in a den
of thieves that we must be suspicious of every one with whom
we come in contact?

Miss M.. Well, I vid ser for your own good. You
‘know you have been deceived and are likely to be so again; -

.. although, I hope, this one you have taken in will not abuse
your confidence as the other vile ingrate did. - Do you know

 
28 THE DIME DIALOGUES. ea

¥
whom you have taken in, or perhaps, has taken youin? Are
you certain your charity is not wasted on a vagabond? f

Mr. B. hen a fellow-being is struggling in the water
and within an inch of losing his fife by drowning, the formali-
ties of an inquiry into the man’s. pedigree are not generally
thought of. You wouldn’t have me let a human being drown
before my very eyes, would you? I would not. serve my
worst enemy so; the Lord knows I wouldn’t.

K. Tell us all about it, uncle—the rescue I mean.

Mr. B... There isn’t much to tell. Iwas coming home in
my boat when I heard a cry and saw a form struggling in the
water. Of course, I went to the rescue and found it was a
fellow-man whose boat. had been upset and he was swimming
for dear life. I doubt if he could have held out much longer,
But I do know who he is—one whom I have deemed to be my
worst enemy, but I would not let that standin my way. He
was in trouble and I helped him out of it and that is all there
isto the act. He shall stay here until he is able to go fur-
ther; but he must then leave my house as | can harbor him no
more. I shall ask him no questions as to the past. Let him
go his own way and let me gomine. I want nothing of him or
from him. That he has wronged me bitterly, deeply and
cruelly I cannot doubt. Why did he not strike a dagger into
a4 heart? Better had I died than live to know of his ingrati-
tude.

Miss M. I thought who it was when he entered this room
for he has the same sly look and crafty way as of old. IfI
were in your place I would not harbor him one single mo-
ment. Look out that he does not rob you again!

Mr. B. There is nothing more for him to take; he took all
Thad worth living for, for he took my trust in him away.
The money was the least of my loss. (Sinks tn @ chair.)

K. Don’t feel so, uncle, dear. Don’t condemn him ere you
have given him a hearing. Though circumstances seem to
point at him.as guilty, he may be innocent, after all, and can
explain matters to the satisfaction of every one.

(Epe@ar re-enters, and stands before MR. Baticom.)

Epa@ar. God bless the little maid for her kindly words.
Every one charged with crime should be heard ere he is con-
demned. Iam no criminal. I am innocent of all theft and I
can explain matters to the satisfaction of every one.

K. Oh, I knew it would be all cleared up, some time!
Dear uncle hear him!

Miss M. Well, you are no one and your opinion is worth
nothing. Girls should be seen not heard.

E, Bhe has.a perfect right to her opinion. She was not
willing to condemn me or hear me condemned as some others
would have done. . When.I left the store to carry the money
to the bank—in order to reach the plage—I cut down one of

¢

 

 
 

 

 

“‘PISIHRMAN’S LUCK.”

e back streets, by the Bay. I had but entered it when I felt
a blow on my head and was knocked senseless to the ground.
When I recovered consciousness I found myself lying in the
berth of a vessel and far out at sca. I was told that some
good-hearted sailors found me lying down on a dock, and,
not knowing what to do with me, carried me on board the
vessel, to which the captain, who was a good-hearted, noble-
minded whole-souled man did not object, but cared for me as
a father would have done for an own son. I had been at sea
some weeks and the vessel was bound on a long, long voyage.
I had wandered a good deal. When I ‘‘ got my head” again
I told the captain my story, and he sympathized with me.
Judge to my surprise when I learned that the vessel was on
an East India trading voyage of two years. What could I do
but submit to the inevitable? There was but one thing to do
and that was to work my passage, which I willingly and cheer-

fally did.

Miss Af. It has all the incidents of a story, quite as im-
probable and just as false.

I believe every word to be true—so now!

Mrs. B. And so must I. My heart tells me this is no fie
tion.

Miss M. Oh, how some people can be hoodwinked and
deceived! Some folks could lie the teeth out of others who
are so innocent.

Mr. B. I must hear more ere Jam convinced. Go on, sir!

Miss M. That's just where you are right, Mister Baleom—
perfectly right. In this case it would take an oath on the
good Book to convince me, and then I don’t know as I
— belicve it unless he had some other proof than his own
word.

Mrs. B. Go on, Edgar; T have begun to trust you again.
Do prove your innocence! i

E. God bles} you for those kind words, mother. To con-
tinue: On board this vessel there was a passenger somewhat
stremge and reserved, who always started as he met my eye
although I never could tell why until the sequel came. We
had nothing in common with each other for he was a passen-
ger and Iacommon sailor. During our voyage this man was
taken very ill, and knowing his last hour was drawing near,
he sent for me to come to the side of his berth and there con-
fessed that it was he who struck me down and dragged me
down on the dock to rob me. He was escaping to a foreign
land when death overtook him, he restored to me the money
he had stolen, and also gave me much other money and pro-

erty for the wrongs he had done me. __ Here is all the money,

ather over two thousand dollars. (Hands money to Mr. B.)
LT had but one chance to write to you and that letter I sent to
the old address, but it was before { had recovered the stolen

 
   
      

  
  
 

   
   
   
 
   
    
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 
    
   
  
  

THE DIME DIALOGUES

money. As you had moved away, of course that missive di
not reach you. Ihad but just arrived when I learned where

you were, got into a boat and endeavored to row over here the
first thing. The squall overtook mc and you know the rest.
Am I forgiven, or, rather, am | believed?

Mr. B. Nothing to forgive, unless I ask forgiveness of
you for my unjust suspicions. Sincerely believed; you are my
son once more. (Hmbraces him.)

Mrs. B. And my dear boy, too. (Hmbraces EpGar.)

K. Well, I feel just like getting on top of the table, dane:
ing the Fisherman’s Hornpipe, and singing:

‘* Heave ho, my hearties
The day dawns clear;
We've laid all night off an ugly coast
But now for harbor we'll steer!

Miss M. Well, I always did wonder how people ever could
believe you to be dishonest. I am a good judge of faces
and I have always said there was no craftiness or slyness in
yours.

K. Oh, my! What asquall you are! You blow from all
quarters!

Miss M. Nobody asked your opinion. (7 launts out.)

K. Well, now, auntie, [ call all this ‘“‘ Fisherman’s Luck.”

Mr. B. . And pretty good luck too.

Mrs. B. Thank my stars, it has all come out right.

Mr. B. Thank Him who made the stars, rather, (All
kneel.) ‘The night is passed, joy cometh in the morning.”
(Bows his head in his hands, as if in silent prayar of gratitude,
as the curtain slowly falls.)

AEX oh
WHY HE DIDN’T HIRE HIM.
(FOR SEVERAL MALE CHARACTERS.)

Rr. Srapson discovered, reading a paper.)

Mr. Srupson. Well, here is my advertisement. Let me see
how it reads;—‘‘ Wanted, by a gentleman residing in the coun-
try, a man, single preferred, to take care of horses, and farm
ona small scale.” I hope I shall be suited without much
trouble. (Anock is heard.) Come in!

(Enter OrricE Boy, grinning.)

Orricr Boy. There’s a gent below as wants to see you,
sir. : ,

Mr. 8. Very well; show him up. (Hzit O. B.) I wonder
what sort of achap he is? (Another knock.) Come in! (Hn
ter.an IR1sHMAN.) Good-morning.

 

  
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a WHY IE DIDN’? HIRE HIM. “B1

“IntsHman. Mornin’, sir. *

Mr. 8. What is your name, my-good man?

I. Patrick O’Rourke,; at your sarvice, sir.

Mr. 8. I suppose you have come in answer to my adver-
tisement?

Par. Yis,sor. Isee your advertisement in the paper, and I
sez to mesilf, sez I—‘‘ Sure, yees are the lad what wants that
same place, Pat, me b’ye.” So I kim to see how we moight
agree.

oon. 8. Have you any credentials?

Pat. What's thim, sor?

Mr. 8. Why, any references, you know. ‘

Par. Indade, thin, I hev, sor, but they’re not wid me this
blessed minit. Sure, d’ye know, I changed me coat, and by
thet same token, I changed me riferince wid it.

Mr. 8. Do you thoroughly understand the care of horses?

Par. Yis, sor; I driv’ for a matter of sivin years on a Broad-
way stage, sor. :

Mr. 8. Well, but do you understand their care. Can you
clean them, doctor them if necessary, keep the stable clean,
etc.?

Par. Yis, sor, I kin docther a horse just like a veteran
surjon, sor. -

Mr. 8. What experience have you had at farming?

Par. Faix, there’s where ye hey me, sor. To tell the
thruth Iniver was on a farm in me life. But I’ve allus hed
—— fancy fur farming, an’ I thought, sor, that if I could

sanbietias

Mr. 8. (nterrupting.) Yes, but I want no novice. I
must have a man who thoroughly understands: his business,
Tm afraid you won’t do.

Pat. But, sor, ’'d soon learn—

Mr. 8, (Interrwptiag again.) It’s no ase; you wouldn't
do. Youcango. (Hvzit Pat.) I rather liked the man. He
seemed candid in his admission of aa But it would
not pay to initiate a greenhorn. (Knock.) Come in! (Enter
a DuToHMAN.) Good-morning! What is your business with
me? :

DoutcumMan. You bin de shentlemans what advertise mit a
man to ‘tend apoud his blace in de goontry?

Ma. 8. Yes, do you understand farming?

D. Zatis my vork. I vas cin farmer in de ole goontry. .

Mr. 8. Are you married?

D. Nichts! Not mooch! I bin no such fool ash dot.

Mr. 8. Why, you seem to be averse to the hymeneal state.

D. I knows nix vot you means, but I no fool ash gits
yoked mit a vomans.

Mr. 8. “What is your name?

D. Mein name? Ach! ich heiz Hopper Broeck.

 
es
SS

LS

 

82 THE DIME DIALOGUES,

r. 8. Broeck! Any relation to Ten Broeck? Can =
take proper care ot horseg?

D. Ich kann die kows milk, but I knows nix mooch apoud
some horses.

Mr. 8. But, that is one of the chief requirements. of my
advertisement, I don’t want any one who has not a thor- |
ough knowledge of, and has had experience with, horses.

. Ich kann ein jackass drive.

Mr. 8. (Laughing.) Thank you. When I am in need of
an ‘ Esel-treiber” I will let you know. For the present,
however, I don’t think I have any need of your services.
Good-morning!

D. Guten-morgen, mein Herr. (Exit.)

Mr. 8. He's a queer specimen. I guess I don’t care fora
mule-driver. I wonder what the next one will be like?
(Another knock.) Come in!

(Enter ARTAXERXES JOHNSON, @ colored man.)

ARTAXERXES JOHNSON. Mornin’, sah!

Mr. 8. Good-morning. MHave I the pleasure of addressing
Frederick Douglass?

A. J. Notmuch, you hasn’t boss! My right name, sah, am
Willyum Scipio Washington Artaxerxes Andy Johnsing, but
dey mos’ly call me jis’ Willyum Artaxerxes, fer short, you.
know. Is’pose you is de gentleman what ’serted a ’vertise-
ment fer a man to take car’ de hosses, an’ ’tend farm?

Mr. 8S. Yes, I want such aman. Can you fill the role?

A. J. "Deed, massa, dis nigga can if anybody kin. Dem’s
my perfession, dat is!

in. S.. Are you a thorough horseman?

A. J. Yis, sah. I hab been wid horses all my life, dis
chile hab, sah. y

Mr. S. Can you farm? Remember, I don’t run a regular
farm, but raise a few things for my own use.

A. J. Now you's talkin’, boss! Dar ain’t nuffin’ dis chile
can’t raise, from a chicken in de egg to a load of hay,

Mr. 8. Are you married or single?

A. J. Well, I ain’t got no wife, derefo’ I mus’ be single,
an’ I’s got de bes’ recommend, shuah!

Mr. 8. Well, I think I'll give youa trial. Call here at ten
to-morrow.

A. J. Allrite, sah; we'll be here wid de baggage.

Mr. 8... We/ who are ‘‘ we?”

A. J. Why, my fambly an’ myself, sah.

Mr. §. I thought you said you were single!

A.J. So I am, sah. I hab nine pickaninnies, but ’ma
widower. Dar’s Sophronia Wellington Jenks, an’ Judson
Cesar, an’—

Mr. 8. Hold on! That will do! I don't want you and
nL pickaninnies!. I couldn’t have you on the place, It ain’s

ig enough to turn into a missionary tract yet. You can go.

i

Pa. J.
Bay 20
tion W!
Mr.
to také
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2 thor-

WHY HE DIDN’T HIRE HIM. 88

ae
A.J. Well, P’'m dis’pointed, but if you won’t have me, ll
8ay good-mornin’, sah, an’ wish you good luck at de nex’ elec-
tion widout de darkies’ vote. (Evit.)

Mr. 8. Well, I’m getting a little discouraged. I’ve a mind
ie take the next one, come whomay. (Another knock.) Come
n!

(Znier Erastus Prerrrs.)

Erastus. How de do! I’m right down glad to sce ye.
You want a farmer and horseman, don’t ye? Well, I’m jest
about six of one an’ ha’f a dozen ov the other.

Mr. 8. So you understand farming, do you?
E. Wall, I guess! My daddy an’ gran’ther, an’ his dad

- an’ grandad afore him was farmers, an’ I reckon I hain’t far

behind ‘em. As my father used to say—

Mr. 8. And you understand the care of horses, do you?

E. Ireckon. The man what kin beat me on a hoss trade
has got to be found yet. My dad he used to say—

Mr. 8. But do you know how to care for a horse, after
you have him?

E. Well, I should snicker! If any man knows more about
hosses than me, I’d like to see him, if I dew say it, who
shouldn't Why, my father used to say that I—

Mr. 8. Where are your references?

E. Oh! yas. [forgot abouttham. Tere they be. « ands
Mr. 8. an envelope, the contenis of which he reads.)

Mr. 8. Well, they seem to beall right. Are you married?

E. Not much! Laillers steer cl’ar of wimmen, ever sinca
I got the mitten. Ye see, I war sparkin’ a gal once. !Her
name war Sophy Ackerman, an’ a right-smart gal she war, too.
Why, I’ve seen her floor achap what tried to kiss her, quicker’n
a wink. But she gin me the sack fer a blame city feller.
But, as my dad used to say—

Mr. 8. What wages do you expect?

E. . Why, I don’t hardly know. Times is hard, an’-—

Mr. 8... How will twenty-five a month, and board, suit you?

BE, Why if you cain’t give more. I s'pose that will hev to
do, boss.

Mr. 8. Very well. Come to-morrow at ten. Good-day.

Ei. Good-day. (Goes to door, but stops, hesitates, and then
says.) Myclo’es don’t look very fit. Can’t ye advance me ten
dollars?

Mr. 8. Why, if you really need it, I suppose I can let you
have it. (Hands him the money.)

E. Thank ye! As my dad used to say: ‘‘A generous man
is known by his deeds.” Good-day, squire! (Heit.)

Mr. 8. Well, at last I've engaged a man. Seems to bea

ood one, too. _Can’t deny that he talks rather much! I hope

eis honest. Yankees generally are even if they will skin a

flea for the hide and taflow. ‘They get along with saving, -not
 

 

 

“B4 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

by stealing. [think he'll make my Bunce pay. (Door suddenly
opens, and enter two POLICEMEN.) What’s the matter?
ist PoLiceMAN. Matter enough! Where’s that fellow?
Mr. 8. What fellow?
2p PoticEMAN. Why, that chap what was just in here.

.

Mr. 8. What do you want of him? He was here, but has |

gone. Nothing wrong about himIam sure. He had excellent
references.

isr P. All forged, sir; and he is wanted on more than one
charge.

than you or I. Hope he didn’t skin you any, did he?

Mr. 8. No—that is—not much—only ten dollars.

ist P. You got off cheap. He played one chap yester-
day to gre tune of three hundred dollars, by selling what
wasn’t his.

2p P. (To first.) Well, Jack, we'd .better start out after

him, if we expect to pocket that reward.

Mr. 8. I hope you'll catch him, not so much for myself as
for other unfortunates who may be taken in by the shrewd
rogue. (Hxewnt POLICEMEN.) Who would have thought him
an impostor? But that reminds me of what my father used to
tellme. ‘‘The true scamp alway carries a tongue to talk to
fools with.” I guess I'll be out to any more err ry eae

it,

 

A FORTUNATE MISTAKE; OR, WHAT CAME OF A
SONG.
FOR SIX YOUNG LADIES, ONE LITTLE GIRL, AND ONE BOY.

(Enter ANNIE, a little street singer.)

Annrg. Oh, Iam so tired—so tired. I’ve tried so hard to
sing and earn a few pennies, but I can’t sing; every time I tr
something comes up in my throat that chokes-me, and now
shal} get a whipping when I go back to Old Meg without any
money. Oh, 1 must sing. This is a ladies’ boarding-school
and perhaps the girls will give me something. (Sings first
stanza of “ Annie Laurie.” hile she is singing enter Mary,
Exiza, JANE, ADA and Tima, school girls from the academy,
without bonnets and in school dress. Also in back ground appears
Mapame Kine, Principal of school, who does net advance.)

: ee: (When first verse is rendered.) Why, what a night-
ngale!

Exiza. A rather ragged robin, I should say.

JANE. Ora stray canary, out of a crow’s nest.

Apa. Go on, Gipsy; give us the rest of the song and T’ll
pass the hat.

\
or
2p P.. He’s a regular skin sharp—he is! No more a Yank!|  8¢c'

AN
Es
M.
Et

XO
sing

N

 

 
A FORTUNATE MISTAKE. 85

. An. Oh, will you really give me something?

uddenly| Ema. Of wvices we will—all of us. .

_ M. A hat from the ash-barrel, perhaps.
Ww? | Eu. An order on the cook for a cold potato.

J. A Sunday-school ticxet for the next picnic.

Te, am Apa. I say, girls, this is mean to talk so. Do goon and
ut has | sin = more, Gipsy. .
ellent | Em. . Yes, do, dear; I'll be your friend.

{ M. Her friend! (Laughs.) 1 congratulate you, Em., on

none | ‘your good tas: e in the choice of friends.
An. She’s good, I know, and Ill sing for her. (Sinos
second verse of ‘‘ Annie Laurie.” JANE joins in and sings last
two lines mockingly, at which Mary and Exiza laugh. Enter
Buty, the bootblack, during the singing. When verse is sung he
ster- steps menacingly before MARY and Exiza, as he throws aside his

vhat | dblacking kit.)

Brtry. You call yerselves ladies, I s’pose. I don’t. I

Yank | ?

fter | calls ye loafers, I does, for insulting a little girl as is tryin’ to
_ do her best to earn a little money. Come and jeer at me now,
as - ef ye dares, fer I’m goin’ ter sing that same song with the lit-
wd | tle gal. I mean fight, I does, when it comes to insultin’ us
1m street children. Now, sissy, pipe up the t’other verse.

to | An. (Advances to his side and they sing the third stanza in
to | unison or asa duet. When tt ts finished Emma takes ANNIE in
y. ~ her arms and kisses her.)

Ea. (Yo Anntg.) You little darling! I pity you from the
bottom of my heart. Will you come into the academy with
| me and stay a little while?
: ; M. What? Take a street vagabond into the school?

Ex. Why not take the boy, too? He’d be quite an addition
to the establishment!

B. Jist what I think, ef all the gals is like you and them.
(Pointing to Mary and Janz.)

An. Oh, I would like ever so much to go into the school
with you, young lady. It must be so nice in there, and you
must be so happy that you can study and know things. Oh,
I shall never be able to do that. I am so miserable—so
wretched. (Crizs.) _

B. Id like to lick somebody, I would! I say, little ’un,
don't! It hurts awful to see you cry. Ef yer short, here’s all
I’ve ’arned to-day. It’s yours. Jist take it, little gal, an’ as
sure as my name’s Billy, the Boxer, I'll go halves with ye every
day. (Holds out a handful of pennies to her, ANNIE shakes
head tin refusal.) m

Eu. (Drawing him near to her.) You are a dear, good boy.
be M. Well, I declare, if this isn’t becoming interesting! Em.
t should be a matron in an orphan asylum.

: J. Being poor she knows how it is herself. ’

 
 

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

Ex. Has a kind of fellew feelin
mufiins, eh? (Laugiis.)

g, as it were, for raga’
B. You'll never have a feller feelin’ for you ef he’s got an

sense. You're a stuck up dressmaker's-sign, you are! ae |
ean lick yer big brother like blazes. Oh, ef you three gals was

boys wouldnt
would!
Eu. -You little ruffian, how dare you!

lam you, you insultin’ snips! Bet yer boots I

RB. (Advancing menacingly.) Oh, that’s your style, is it?

I’m the rooster fer ye to pick. Here’s my feathers fer a good
ull, ‘

‘ An. Billy. (Deprecatingly.)

Em. Billy! Be a little gentleman even if they are. not
ladies.
B. Jes’ as you say. You're boss now, an’ I'll stop crowin’.

(Returns to EMMA’s side again.)

3. (Zo Emma.) You assume that we are not ladies?
B. In course she does!
Em. If courtesy, and gentleness, and pity for the poor are
lady-like qualities you are not their possessor, it is evident.
; Center shot, sure as my name is Billy King!
An. King? Why that’s my name, too!
(MADAME Kine adeances.)

B. Annie King? An’ who’s yer mam?

An. Oh, I don’t know, Old Meg Hertz keeps me—

MapamMeE Kine. Meg Hertz?

B. ‘Ther old rip! Oh, I’ve felt her grip! an’ I now knows
who you be, little ’un!

M. K. Children—child:'en—who are you? (Hvcitedly.)

B. Why, mum, ken’t yer see we’re street birds?

M. K.. But your names—who gave them to you? Who
was your father?

B. Now you've got me! I s’pose I had a daddy, but he
slid out before I was big enough to hold on to his coat-tails, I

uesses, Old Martin Hertz is the only daddy I ever knew,
ut—

M. K. Martin Hertz—Meg Hertz—and your name is King
—William King?

B. That’s what they always called me; an’ as fer little An-
nie, here, when she come into the family it war made too hot
fer me, an’ I’ve never been near ’em sence.

An. Are you the little Willie that used to be my brother?

B. Bet yer boots, lam! An’ now I’m goin’ to stick to yer
through thick an’ thin. (Puts his arm around her.)

M. K. Children, come to me! (They advance and she seru
tinizes them closely.) Isee in your faces all the proof } went.
You are my own dear dead brother’s children! He dicd cn
the steamer, in coming home from France, where your dear
mother had died, Your papa was buried at sea, and your

Annie King.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
  
  
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
| Qurse was this Meg Hertz, you are talking about, whose hus-
_ band, Martin, lived in New York. So when the steamer came

| in Meg Hertz took all Sa papa’s trunks and property and
_ Wholly disappeared, an

you. Oh, my children, have I really found you at last?

_ (Clasps them in her arms.)

  

A FORTUNATE MISTAKE. 87

for years we have been looking for

B. You've got the right pig by the ears, this time, sure!

. I remember now, just like a dream, about that ship, an’ little
_ Annie, an’ the comin’ ashore. Oh, 1 guess it’s all hunky,

Thum!

M. K. You poor neglected dailings!

An. An’ won't I have to go back to old Meg any more?

M. K. Never again shall you see that horrid, wicked wo-
man! but you shall be my own children, and live hete, in this
fine house with me, and grow up to be worthy of your name
and honorable parentage.

An. (Clasping Bruiy around the neck.) Isn't this beautiful,
brother?

B. Hope I may dic if it isn’t justimmense!. Hey, you gals,
what do ye thiak ov yerselves, now, fer insultin’ little street
folks? Wouldn't you sell yerselves cheap to the rag man?

M. Ido most certainly regret my rudeness. :

Ex. And{I; but lam very happy at what has happened if it
has brought about this reunion.

J. If our rudeness can be forgiven I will be only too happy
to love the children hereafter.

B. But you two gals, (taking Emma and Ava by the hand)
ae do to tie to, an’ I votes fer you, every time. (Misses their

nds.)

M. K. Let us retire. We'll make this day memorable in-
deed. I have found my little lost ones, and God be praised!
Forget all your little misurderstandings, and with me rejoice
at every thing that has happened.

B. (Picking up box—apostrophises.) You dear old sojer!
We’se got to part. You’n I hes been good friends; you hes
fed me like a brick, an’ clothed me like a—(looks ai himself )—
like a Vanderbilt. But, I’se got to bid you adoo. I'm goin’
where you wouldn’t be happy to board. Be a good box, an’
don’t fergit Billy the Boxer who is ‘a boxer no more.
(Throws down box and turns to MADAME K.) An’ now fer the
new life!

Em. Which I am sure you will do honor to.

. An. Oh, he will—won’t you, Billy?”

B. It sha’n’t hev to be said that Billy King ever disgraced
the memory of his dear dead parents.
(Eveunt, as certain falis.)

 

 

  

   
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
   

 
  

  
   
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  

     

  

        
 

THE DIME DIALOGUES,

   

AN ALPHABETICAL MENAGERIE.
FOR A GOOD MANY GIRLS AND BOYS.

[This is meant to comprise almost an entire school, taking scholars
, of all ages from the largest to the smallest. It will be readily com-
i mitted to memory, and as the rhymes are decidedly ridiculous their reci-
Bi tation will be a very amusing school episode.]

jj A lingerer in the moist bayou,

h Poor darky Sall! poor Sall, I ate her!

There’s nothing left but one old shoe—
I’m the rapacious ALLIGATOR.

My fellows bounce and sniff and scuffle so,
In wild stampede I’ve lost my way—
Lam the bellowing bison BurraLo.

Close by my brother do I stand,
Even tho’ he hits a timid fellow hard:
I'll hold my head up in this band—

  
   
  
  
     
 
  
 
  

I am the cautious, calm CAMELOPARD,

Do I belong to this great band?

IT am no singing silver meadow-bird!
Full fifteen feet.in hight I stand—

The dreary, dreamy, doleful Dapo-prrp,

i "Beside me, on the plains at play,
}
|
i
}
|

Evening or morning I can play

The brazen trumpet, though to yell I can’t;
For trunk checks I’ve no cash to pay—

The amiable circus KLEPHANT. _

Fair fortune follows fairy me,

Who oft round St. Domingo whirrs—
A spark of fire above the sea—

Iam the red FLAMINGO, sirs. |

Go, Stanley, on to Mozambique
Or Congo, Junko, to fulfill a plan;
You'll know me by my leather cheek—
I am the chattering GORILLA, man.

How sweetly in the mud I slept!
My name is polyglotamus;

The giant of the Nile, yclept

The hideous H1rporoTaMts.

 

 
  

AN ALPHABETICAL MENAGERIE.

J ruled the roast in ancient days,
When coal that folks now quarry in

Was only grass for me to graze—
Tam an JOTHYOSAURIAN.

  

lars
>Oom-
reci- —

Joy greet ye, friends! I’m of a race
That's neither fish or flesh or shabby fowl—

Although I wear.a human face,

lam a drummer—known as JABBERNOWL,

Keep quiet, friends, I be-be-beseech,
Asoquiet as a nervous man can do,

Until 1 make my little speech—

lam the k-kick—KanG@aroo.

Lo! closely watch thy little flock,
By night, thou gentle shepherdess,

Nor open, though I slyly knock,

To me the cruel LEOPARDESsS,

  

Men, when in fever, see in dreams
Gaunt shapes, in wild delirium—

Vast bulky shapes move’ by slow streams,

Like mine, the Mr@aTHERIUM.

  

No ugly dreams bring I, but song;
By the moon’s mystic light I sail,

To rose and lily I belong—

I’m the melodious NigHTINGALE.

  
 

   

On trees of bread-fruit and of palm
I chattered but I never sung no slang;

From cocoanut I sipped the balm—

An evolute ORANG OvuTANG.

Pick quail and partridge from the bush,
So with their flesh your fork you line;
But hope not in the forest hush
To pick the prickly Porcupine. .'

  
 

Queer birds and fishes you have heard,
The quail and quagga like quin-quina,
But Pm a modest boat-tail bird,
A simple, quiet QuiscaLINA.

Roam where the Nile flows, and inquire—
Far from the lovely, placid Bosphorus—

Who he is, floundering in the mire—

They'll tell yon tis the thick Rurvocrnos.

   

 
  
 
 
      
   
      
 
   
   
 
 

 

    
     
 
    
    
 
    
     
 
      
  
 
    
   
     
     
   
     
   
 

-

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

Some live in water, some in air,
But I am neither fish nor gander;
I love a bed of red-hot fire!
For I’m the fabled SALAMANDER.

To hear me roar sets men aghast,

I crouch in jungles near the Niger,
In Afric wildernesses vast—

Tam that beast men fear—the TicER,

Useless to try the rub-a-dub!

I’ve tried, but cannot even tune a horn;
I don’t belong to any club,

For I’m the lonely, lonely Unicorn,

Vainly I seek to play the dove,

With borrowed plumes, ‘mid folks of culture,
And to the little maids make love—

My eyes and beak betray the VULTURE.

While not the spouting, plunging whale—
So big, yet lives by swallowing small cusses,
An infusorial waggle-tail— ]
Yet I'belong to wallowing WALRUSES.

Xpecting welcome, here I come,
<cuse my cold, and if I cough again;
You'll understand I feel at home,
Though I’m the timid, rare XyLOPHAGAN.

You'll find in me a prima-donna
Who’s sung through many a melodrama,
My voice is sweet, my form is bonny—
am the tiny YELLOWHAMMER.

Zealous to please esthetic friends,
I’m utterly intense and too-too!

Artistic distance witchery lends—
I am the soft and subtle Zoo-zoo.

& I’m the end of all this show,
& bound to beg & perhaps badger ye;
Like naught above and naught below—
Tam the & of this MENAGERIE,

 
 

THE HIGHER EDUCATION. 41

THE HIGHER EDUCATION,
A DIALOGUE FOR SIX Boys,

| (Enter Brown, Smire, Jones, Teomson; and Fritz, mem-
bers of a college base-ball club, Brown's head is arofully
swelled and his eye bunged; Smitu has his arm in a sling
Jrom a sprained shoulder ; JONES has his hand bundled up
with a broken finger ; Tuomson limps, and has his handker-
chief tied around his knee. Frrivz’s. mouth ¢s all bloody and
ie talks very “thick.” All have badly torn clothes and battered
ts.)

Brown. Oh! I tell you, fellows, it was just the crack
. fame of the season. Didn't we put it to those fellows, though?

‘ll bet they won’t be in such a hurry to challenge us again.
The idea of a set of spindle-shanks like they are, coming down
here to. play ball with our nine! Why, we could clean out
that crowd with only half our men.

Jonss. Yes, and to hear them talk you’d think they were
doing us a favor by playing with us, and that this would be
merely a little practice game for them. I told Hart, their
short-stop, that when they wanted to learn a point or two
more about base-ball to come down and see us again,

Smirg. What tickled me most was to see some of our boys
knock the starch out of those city prigs with their tony airs.
You know they think they.do everything about right at their
college, and what they don't know about base-ball isn’t worth
knowing. What did you think of their crowd, Thomson,
when you met them at the depot?

Tuomson. What did I think of them? I said to mysclf
that they were the cheekiest set of runts I had run across in a
Dutch of a while. You know Barton, one of theii directors,
came up with them to score for them. I had the hack from
the hotel at the depot to bring them up here just as we always
do. He said he didn’t care about being squeezed into that
thing, and asked me if I couldn’t get a carriage for him!
How’s that for unprecedented gall? I turned my back on

him and the last I saw of him he had started to walk to the”

grounds.

8. But, the richest thing, fellows, was when we got ’em
up here. You know our friend Fritz, there, has a room near
the ball ground, so. I took ’em in there to put on their ball
suits. Old Fritz was there trying to put his thick legs and
No. 12 foot into a new pair of No. 9 base-ball stockings. I
knew I would give myself away by laughing if 1 stayed in
there, so, after telling them to make themselves at home, and

that I would return in a few minutes, I shot out. Just be-

fore I shut the door I took a hurried look at Fritz. Lord,
fellows, I wish you could have seen him standing there, with
one stocking half on and the most comical look of dismay on

 

 
   
 
  
   
    
   
 
    
    
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
   
 
 
   
  
   

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

his face! It was as good as a circus. Come, Fritz, tell us all
about it, and how you entertained your company.

Cuorvus oF ALL. ‘Come, let’s have it,” ‘‘Give it to us,”
“Spit it out,” ete.

Fritz. (Seratching his head.) Tell you aboud it? Vell, I
vill told you all Tremembers. I-vas getting myself ready mit
t’e match oop ven dat rascally Schmidt he open t’e toor und
let ina lot of vellars mit carpet sacks aboud der hants. I
says to myself—Vat in der tuyfil did Schmidt vants for to
pring in dat gang mit der truck for? Und den out he goes
avay und leafs me alone mit dose villains. Dey stared me
oud foon my gountenance oud, und I vish as I vas some-
wheres in annuder blace so gwick as I vas could gits myself
togedder. I says mit dem—‘‘ Oh! shentlemen, sit down on
yourselfs, I means to say, sit down mit yourselfs. We haf a
goot day for de game.” A leetle schnoop who vas sucking
te heat foon a big gana, he speags—‘‘Aw, very foine, in-
deed! I bresume you fellahs be expegting to be badly beaten
to-day?” I shoots back—‘‘If we knows ourself we don’t
expegct to see you got avay mit us—mooch.” Den anodder
one speags und says—‘‘ Mr. Fritz, ve shall like to have some
refreshment for us as we are dirsty mit dis drip.” I wondered
vat dat goomphead meant, so I asked him vat I should blace
on t’e table oud. He winked at de odder fellers, und said:
“ Set out some tings exhilarating—some spirituous beverage,
you know, to tone us up. Ve never blays a game off ball

midout somedings foon drinks beforehand.” “Oh! I gom- -

prehend,” says 1: ‘‘but I am mooch regret to say, shentle-
men, my keg off lager is schoost all gone. Ihave sentit to de
brewery to be filled but it is nix coom still.” Den t’e little
veller mit t’e gane says—‘‘Aw, I can’t'stand heer. Das is
too dreadful! Peer? Pah! Have you no goot bars here
anyveres?” he axed. So I dells ’em vere t’e saloon vas, und
tey skibbed oud mit a pig noise. I dells you, Schmidt, I
don’t vant you to bring like such grouds my room into,
Schoost as if Milvaukee lager vasn’t good enough for dem!
But, I tooks my revenge foon dose suckers vile we were blay-
ing t’e game.

S. Well, Fritz, never mind if they did put on airs and
turn up their noses at your beer; we waxed them most aw-
fully for it. I met old Bones this morning on my way to
chapel. He said: ‘‘Mr. 8., how’s this? You haven't been
into English Literature for several days,” I told him that my
time had been so fully occupied lately with the coming match
that I had no time to go into recitations at all. The idea of
him expecting us to pay any attention to such a stuffy thing
oy ene ish Literature when we had base-ball to attend to, the
old ass! .

J.. Inotice that all these college professors are the same

 
s all
us, ”

ie
mit

2e-

 

THE HIGHER EDUCATION. 43

way. They're all behind the times. The idea of expecting
us fellows to neglect our practice games for our recitations.
It shows their greenness, the old moaks!

B. Great Scott, fellows, but I feel bunged up! I won’t be

able to go to recitations fora week at least. If it hadn’t been

for the stupidity of their third base man I wouldn’t have had
this bad eye. YouknowI wasrunning from second to third

| base and he stood directly in the base line waiting for the

catcher to throw the ball down tohim. I bucked him as hard

as I knew how and of course it floored us both. I am glad he

got the worst of it, anyhow. He won’t be able to use that
islocated wrist of his for weeks, confound him.

I don’t see any particular glory in your bucking a
man, Brown; any one could do that.. Now if you had made

a brilliant fly catch like J did you might be excused for blow-

ing around so much. lam willing to be laid up with this
sprained shoulder of mine for the honor of that catch.

J. Iam afraid I will not be able to catch on first base again
fora long time with this broken finger. By Jove, boys, did
you see how neatly I did that little trick? I thought I should
bu’st myself laughing even while my finger pained so. You
see, Parkins, that pretty man of theirs, was coming toward

me from home-base, full tilt. I thought to myself that I

would spoil his good looks for him. I knew that he would
reach the base before our catcher could get the ball down to
me. So, just as the ball reached me and he passed me I put
out my toe and tripped him. You know the ground beyond
first base is very rough. He fell on his face, and such a look-
ing object as he was when he got up you never saw! I don’t
think he’ll boast about his good looks for some time to come.

T. Do you fellows remember Black, their short-stop?
He was that thick-set, bloated-looking guy. I would just like
to send the cad a summons to coffee and pistols for two at
some place not a hundred miles from the city. I think my
knee-pan must be seriously injured by the ae it pains me.
There wasn’t the slightest need in the world of his getting in
my way that time I was running, and I told him so, too. He
said we would settle it afterward but he sneaked off before I
had a chance to see him.

F. Oh! vat vor all you poys blow your horn so mooch
vor? You didn’t blay so mooch ball as you dinks you did.
Any von to hear you dake on vould t’ink ash how you blayed
the whole game yourself., Und if you all had such a sore
mouth as I have got you vould keep it shut gloser vor a leedle
vile. None of you did half so mooch hart vork in t’e game as
Idid. Vhy, my blace in t’e center field vas t’e hardest von
on the whole ground. Und— ; f

B.. Interrupting.) Hello there, Dutch, I thought you said
you had such a sore mouth you couldn’t wag your tongue?

 

 
  

 

- Here you pe! I’m your man off you vants anybody put oud

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

F. You'd better shut up dry, Brown, and let me say oud
my speech. Any one dat blayed as mooch stupid a game a8

ou did had better say notting. Vat for did you vant to run.
into me oud in t’e field schoost as I vas going to made a
beautiful gatch, und smash my mout’ mit dat thick head of
yours?
f B. It was my ball, and you had no business to try and get
your clumsy hands on it.

I, (Hotly.) You lies, Prown! It vasn’t your ball; it vas
mine.

B. Here, you ugly-mugged Dutcher, you! Don’t you tell «
me I lie or I will make your phiz look worse than it does
now.

F. Vot you say? My mug ugly! (Starts for him, Brown
Jalls back, Smiru and JONES grab Frrrz.)

S. Come, fellows, we don’t want any of that here. I don’t
think either of you chaps distinguished yourself enough to
fight about it, now, battered up as you are.

J. Smith, you don’t want to say anything to the boys about
their playing after the miserable exhibition you made of your-
self to-day. Why, I’ve seen a lot of preps play a better game
than—

T. (Interrupting.) Let up on that blarney, Jones, or we
will put you out.

J. (Loud and excitedly.) You're a pretty man to talk about
putting me out! You'd better rub up your muscles a little
before—

F.  Unterrupting loudly.) Vot you say boud putting oud!

mitout a hurry.

B. Come, fellows, let’s put a quietus on this loud-mouthed
heathen. Iam tired of his racket—the Dutch booby!

F. (Doubling up his fists.) Come on! I'm ready for dis

   
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
  
   
  
    

 

match, you pet!
(Grand rush for Frrvz. — Enter JANTOR, hurriedly. Cessation
of hostilities.)

JANITOR. Here, here, young gentlemen! What does all
this racket mean? You don’t deserve to be called young gen-
tlemen for you act more like a lot of young ruffians than a set
of decent college men. ‘You are a pretty looking crowd now,
ain't you? Every one of you looks as if you had been ina
street fight, and you won't be fit to attend a lecture fora
week. Is this the kind of an education you came here to
get? If it is, the quicker you go home the better it will be for
you and the college. Let there be no more of this sort of
thing. Every one of you go to your rooms immediately or I
will lay the matter before the college authorities. Now go.
(Exeunt students hurriedly.) The boys have been having

rough time, I should say, but—

 
       
     
         
       
 
      
   
   
 
    
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d of
| get
vas

tell «
loes

WN
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ut
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3 THE VICISSITUDES OF A MILLINER. 4

: (Enter PRorgssor Pria.)

Proressor Pric. I thought I heard loud altercation on the
campus and came out to see what was up.

JAN. Oh, it was nothing. The boys, you know, played a
return match game to-day and they were somewhat noisy over
the rehearsal of their victory.

Pror. P. Then they did beat?

» Jan. Yes, by a fine score.

Pror. P.. Glad to hear it. Hope they'll keep up their

practice. It gives the coilege a good name, you know, to

have its fellows always on the winning side. It brings us

students, in fact, so | would not be severe on them, Janitor, if
at times they do overstep the regulations.

Jan. Oh, I understand it, professor. Even when I am
severe the boys know itis allin fun. I know how important
it is to let them have their own way as much as possible.

Pror. P.. Certainly—certainly; that is very sensible. Good-

night. (Eizit.)
an. A very sensible man. The college will prosper un-
der his management, | know. (Zxit.)

 

THE VICISSITUDES OF A MILLINER; or, THOSE
DREADFUL GIRLS.

YOR SIX FEMALES.

Characters :—MApAmB Naso; Mrs. Le Granp; Amy Srrew-
ART; Mary; Lovursp; SARAH.

Scene.—Room strewn with milliner’s materials, The four girls
working.

Loutsr. I hope Mrs. Growler will find her old bonnet
sufficiently esthetic. This sage green is a perfect match for
her complexion; if she’d only had crimson trimmings to
match her nose, it would have been the hit of the season.

Mary. What—her nose or the bonnet?

Saran. Both! She’d make a splendid specimen of Japan-
ese high art. I wonder they don’t take her picture and use it
for a pattern for some of their embroideries on screens or por-
tieres; a Chinese fan couldn't compare with her.

Amy. Oh, girls, how can you make so much fun of her?
She can’t help her looks, and you: know she is as good as she
is homely.

M. (Mimicking her tone.) Girls, how can you say such
things in the presence of so much goodness?

8. Goodness? Humbug, I should say, 7 Sa
L. Ob! we know who it was that told Mrs, Horace her

 

 

 
  

 

   
    
    
  
    
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
  

48 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

frightful yellow hat was becoming, just to make us laugh;
then, when madame was angry, sneaked out cf it by pretend-
ing she meant every word of it, so we got the scolding. We
understand goody-goody-ness.

If there is any thing I do detest it is hypocrisy. If I

say a thing about any one it’s true, and I don’t try to put the |

saying of it off on some one else. -
. We all know you are charity itself. (Looking out of
window.) 'There’s Mrs. Potter getting out of her carriage. If

she hasn't got a new fur-lined cloak! Come, girls, quick, and —
* gee. (All run to window but Amy.) She looks like Barnum’s
fat woman. If I were in her place, I’d take anti-fat. Her

bonnet’s done, thank goodness, and sent down-stairs. I made
as many mistakes in it as I dared. I hope she will like the
bow; it’s most as broad as she is. (While she ts speaking they
return to their work.)

L. Somebody is too good to lock out of the window.

8. LTwonder we don’t take wings and fly out of this world.

A. If Iam paid for my time, it is no longer my own.

‘This bonnet is to be finished at three o’clock.

M. So is mine, for that matter, but I don’t make myself
conspicuously ill-natured, even to have it done on the minute.

A. Ihadn’t the slightest intention of being ill-natured; you
are too unkind. :

You are a pretty one to talk about unkindness! Who
are you, I would like to know, that you set yourself up to be
so much better than the rest of us?

8. A duke’s daughter, perhaps!

M. Or an angel in disguise.

L. Perhaps it is her superior claims to beauty—

§. Or her exquisite taste in dress. (They all laugh ; Amy
begins to ery.) : :
(Enter MADAME NAsH.)

Mapame NasH. What is the matter now, Miss Stewart?
Ifound you crying the other day, just when I wanted you
down-stairs, too. What isthe matter? (Amy does not answer.)
Perhaps you are overworked. (Sarcastically.)

A. (Hastity.) Oh, no! My work is quite easy.

8. (Aside.) It’s nothing but temper; she’s always sniffing
at something.

Mav. N. - What did you say, Miss Green? Temper? What
should she be in a temper about? Has any one said anything
to you? (Amy 2 silent.)

Map. N. Oh, you won’t answer, and are crying again!
There, you’ve dropped a tear right on that ribbon and ruined
it. If you can’t give me a civil answer you may take your
things and leave, and this week's wages will pay for that
piece of ribbon you've spoiled. What's that, Louise Smith—
the ribbon was watered: already? I suppose: you" imagine

oP oh UY gece be fw, a

 

 

   

 
         
   
     
   
     
       
       
   
   
   
 

 

THE VICISSITUDES OF A MILLINER. 47

yourself verysmart. You aredismissed Miss Stewart. (Amy
rises and gathers up her things.) I want no tempers here,
Any way your dress is not in keeping with such an establish-
ment as this; I never saw any one more wanting in style; you
look as though you were as poor as Job’s turkey, instead of
earning good wages. No girl with a bit of taste would make
a perfect Guy of herself. If that bow on Mrs. Potter’s bonnet
is a specimen of your ability, it’s about time you left. (Zit

Amy, quietly.) There she goes in a perfect whirlwind.

L. That’s nothing unusual.

M. You'd better look and see if that ribbon is there; seeing
she had to pay for it, I expect she has taken it. These very
good people have strange notions of honesty.

Map. N. One of you girls will have to finish the hat she
was working on, and just twist that ribbon so the spot will
come underneath; no one will ever see it.

S. If Id been doing that hat, it would have been finished
an hour ago. ‘That girl was a regular dawdler.

L. Any one could see she was never born to trim hats.

M. Ordo any thing like other people. Who knows about
her family? I don't like to mix myself up with nobody
knows who. However, she’s gone now and we won’t be hard
on her.

Map. N. Yes, she is gone and I am glad of it. I am more
than astonished that a milliner so aristocratic as Nash should
have employed so low a person. She said she could trim
tastefully, but— (Hnter Mrs, Lm Granp.) Ah, Mrs. Le
Grand! What can I do for you this afternoon? (One gives
her a chair, another a footstool ; all bustle around most obse-
quiously.)

Mrs. LEGRAND. My business is not in the millinery line,
but to inquire for a family named Stewart. (All look surprised
but do not answer.) There is a daughter named Amy, who, I
believe, is learning the milliner’s trade, and I thought you
might know something about her, so came here to ask the
working girls. é

M. We know all we care to—

Mrs. LEG. What do you mean, young woman?

M. Oh, I wouldn’t say anything against one for the world.

L... You might as well speak the truth, and say that—she
is lazy, dishonest, and everything else.

How very mild you put it; why don’t you add a little
more? ; ;

Mrs. LeG. This is not to the purpose, young women; I
did not ask your opinion of her character; what I do want to
know is, where she is.

S. _ Don’t ask me.
ae I never trouble myself to find out where such people

 

 
i 48 . THE DIME DIALOGUES.

. (Sarcastically.)
| Mrs. LeG. (Sternly, io MapamMe Nasw.) Can you answer
my question? I
TAD. N. I am glad to say, I cannot. I have just dis-
charged her for impertinenee and indolence.
(Re-enter Autry, who does not sce Mrs, LEGRAND, as Mapame
Nasu stands between them.)

A. Ihave returned to ask for the twelve dollars due me
for last month; the withholding. of the money has prevented
my buying both food and medicine for my mother who is
very ow and in the name of justice I demand the money I
earned,

Mav. N. How dare you attack me in this way—

Mrs. LEG. (Rushing forward and clusping Amy in her
arms.) Oh, Amy! Have I found you at last? Are you really
Amy Stewart!

A. TobesureI am. And who are you? Surely not my
Aunt Anna?

Mrs. LeG. Yes, your own Aunt Anna, who has been look-
ing for you more than a year. Why have you kept yourself
so hidden? You have made yourself much needless suffer-
ing, for your uncle left you half his immense fortune, and
you might have been enjoying it long since. But come; take
me to your mother; I don’t want you to stay in t/7s place an-
other minute. My carriage is below. (They go out.)

Mav. N. There! Now you have done it! You've ruined
me! You’ve disgraced the reputation of this establishment!
Oh, why did I ever listen to your scandalous tongues? You're
a set of libelous creatures—a mean, lying set! Amy was an
angel of goodness, and you made me believe she was every
thing bad; the result is, you’ve ruined me! Clear out! The
whole lot of you. Don’t ever let me see one of your faces
again. Go, 1 say! (They all go out in various ways, Mary
with her nose in the air. Louise making a face, etc.) What ;
shallI do? Tllsend Amy the handsomest hat in the est#b- 4
lishment, and give that twelve dollars to her minister, ard
make it twenty-four, as Amy Stewart's gift to the poor of the
parish. Oh, those dreadful girls! I'll ask the minister to
write a series of sermons on the ‘ Vicissitudes of a Milliner.”
TN—TM— (She kicks and throws things right and left—and
rushes out.)

Mn L. Perhaps we’ve been entertaining an angel unawares
}
i

Sy

i
Hi
iy
i
i

 

 
. :
CAT AND DOG. ‘49 in

 

Hi
ile
rh CAT AND DOG. i
ver FOR TWO WEE ONES. il
|
i Dotty. A cat is far the prettiest pet,
a So soft, so sleek, so clean;
My kitty is as black as jet—
aod She’s called Miss Velveteen. it
She purrs so sweet, she is so neat,
ne T love her much, I vow;
cd | And when she sings, not Patti’s self
is Can equal her me-ow! i
[ ; Me-ow—me-ow!
4 Mo.ty. I dearly love my little dog,
y So woolly and so white,
; So frisky and so full of fun, i
- With eyes like diamonds bright. ie

He knows so many cunning tricks,
I think him wise, I vow! /
His bark is better than his bite—
Just hear his dear bow-wow!
Bow-wow! bow-wow!

Dotty. I’m ‘fraid of dogs; they often give
Folks hy-dra-pho-bi-a!
Mouty. Cats.are too treacherous to live—

They scratch and call it play.
Do.ty. My kitty is a darling cat,
And lovely, you'll allow.

Motty. I know at precious Frisk she spat
And made him bow-wow-wow!
Doty. Me-ow—me-ow!
Mouty. Bow-wow, bow-wow!
DoLty. She purrs and sings me-ow.

Mouty. He barks and yelps bow-wow!

Do.Lty. Miss Velveteen’s a perfect queen,
Sings operatic airs,—
She trills, and runs, and bravuras
And scales the attic stairs.
Mouzy. My Frisk can bay the moon at night,
ls voice sings loud and deep
O’er fields and stream; he barks so loud
That people cannot sleep.

Bow-wow.
Donny. Me-ow.
Borg. Me-ow—Bow-wow, Me-ow—Bow-wow!

 

(Spitefully, at cach other.) Me-ow! Bow-wow!

 
 

50 THE DIME. DIALOGUES.

THE ASTHETE CURED; or, HOW BLIND SHE WAS.

Characters :—Miss Purrpra RANDOoR, on esthetic young lady ;
Mr. James Mason, Puriippa’s lover; Mr, CLERMONT, an
adventurer, and pretended esthete ; THOMAS, an old servant ;
Bripert O’FLANaGAan, an Irish girl, an accomplice of CLER-
MONT’S. ;

Scene I.—Purirra’s sitting-room. Pururpra, dressed in a
long sage-green gown, ts standing by a small table, in a graceful
pose, and holding a sunflower in her hand. JAMES is stand
ing near. i

JAMES. Then Iam to understand that all is over between
us?

Puitieps. That is my decision.

J. -And all because you have seized hold of this foolish
whim, this fashionable folly! It must have changed your
heart completely, Philippa, to make you throw away in a mo-
ment the love and devotion of years—to make you break your
engagement with me simply because I have not the esthetic
craze! I cannot believe it is true—I will not accept this as a
final parting. I shall return soon, to hear if you have not an-
other answer for me then. ‘Till then, goo@-by. (Hait.)

P. So he has gone! ’Tis well. I feared he would be
angry, and that I could not endure. Anger is something I
cannot understand. Once I was foolish enough to be moved
by feelings in common with the rest of poor humanity, but
now I have risen above such trivialities. I can look coldly
upon them, as once I never thought it possible. Why should
we fret ourselves, or be moved by aught save the beautiful,
the truly beautiful, as we are daily learning to know and ap-
preciate it? And yet, how poor a devotee to the shrine of
Art,am I! But, it is nearly noon—the hour at which Mr.
Clermont was to be here. Hark! Was not that his measured
step I heard? Would that James had been such as he!
Then, perhaps, I might have consented to walk through life
with him, but as it is now, there is no sympathy, no com-
munion of thought between us—in fact, J worship High Art,
he scorns it, and therefore is not worthy of further considera-
tion from me. Yet it is strange I cannot put him out of my
mind. Ah! how much I have yet to learn! An hour’s con-
versation with Clermont will do me good. He is so esthetic
in all his tastes, so artistic in all his ideas. He is an excellent
teacher forme. (THoMaSs announces. ‘‘ MR. CLERMONT.”)

(Enter Mr. CLERMONT.) ‘ :
4 * Ah! I was expecting you, Mr. Clermont. How do you
°

Mr. Ciermont. Very well, Miss Philippa, thank you. Is

this not.a beautiful day?

 

v=
S.

an
te
R-

 

THE MSTHETE CURED. 51

P. Beautiful, indeed! We are having charming weather
now.

Mr. C. How beautiful your rooms are looking! It seems
as though you gained some new treasure, more beautiful than
the last, each time I come here.

P. Lam pleased to hear you say so. If so true a taste as
yours is gratified, then I have a right to think that mine zs im-
proving. When I think how these rooms were furnished a
year ago, it makes me shudder. If now I could only haye
servants in keeping with my surroundings, I think I should
be happy, but to have to be waited upon by such common-
place creatures as Thomas, for instance, is enough to destroy
the harmony with which I am endeavoring to surround my-
self.

Mr. C. Ihope I may be able to relieve you in part, at
least. There is now below, awaiting your pleasure, a new
maid, such as you said you wished you could procure. I was
near Castle Garden when the new emigrant steamer landed its

assengers, and thought it would be a good opportunity to

ook around to see if I could find one. This girl’s face took

my fancy, on account of its being such a perfect type of the
true Irish girl. Iam sure she will prove a treasure to you,
inasmuch as she will afford you continued study of the original,
which common people call greenness.

P. Oh, thanks, my dear friend! I hope I may indeed learn
much from her, and so perhaps reward you in some small de-
gree for the trouble you have taken for me.

Mr. C. Pray do not speak of it! I would be but too ut-
terly happy, if I thought that for a moment I could lead you
on in a path of High Art, even for a few steps. This girl is
a true specimen of the native Irish, and is probably a lineal
descendant of the ancient Celts. Her physiognomy will con-
vince you of this, and as she has but just come from Castle
Garden, she will not have had time to learn anything of the
customs of this country and you may mold her to your will.
May she afford you both pleasure and profit! (Aside.) And
may she find the diamonds !

_P. I can hardly fail to be pleased with her, if you recom-
mend her, for I know you are always correct in your judg-
ment, as well as in your taste concerning all works of true
Art. If Thad only had the good fortune to know you when
first I began the artistic furnishing of my house, I should not
have made so many blunders. I am happy to think that I am
improving all the time under your kind directions. .

-Mr.C. I shall always be only too glad to help you to thé
best of my poor ability, Miss Philippa. “(Aséde.) -And to help
myself to your diamonds before tang, And now will you permit
me to tell you something I observed, in coming here? I know
it will shock your delicate perceptions, but as‘a friend, J may

 

 
52 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

speak of it, and the defect may be remedied before your eyes
chance to light upon it. (Aside.) Little fool!

P. You alarm me,.but, pray, speak. ‘What is it?

Mr. C.. In approaching the house through your south gar-
den, I noticed that one of the hollyhocks bordering the gravel
walk had deviated slightly from the perpendicular, and so, by
destroying the symmetry of the line, would cffend an artistic
eye. Knowing that you had-not yet discovered it, I ventured
to speak. (Aside.) Blest, if I did't knock the thing down my-
self it looked so prim and stiff.

P. Oh, how terrible! { hope no one has seen it. . I thank
you for wishing to. save me from such a shock as seeing it un-
awares would produce. I shall order Thomas to see to it at
once.

Mr. C. I can speak to him about it myself, as I pass
through the hall, for 1 must leave you now.

P. Will you not stay and contemplate the lily with me at
noontide?

Mr. C. Thanks, but unfortunately I am called away to
another part of the city, However, 1, have my lily with me.
(Taking a lily from his inside coat pocket.) And when the hour
of noon arrives, I shal] pause in my progress, and gazing upon
this pure and perfect flower, shall derive from a contempla-
tion of its perfections, a sense of satisfaction, which no com-
mon repast of food, vulgar food, could give. (Aside.) Blest
if I don’t deserve a good dinner after that! And now, farewell.

our new maid is below, and only awaits your orders. Her
name is Bridget O’Flanagan. You see it has the true 1ing
about it—nothing but genuine Ivish there. Again, I say, fare-
well, (Bows low and exit.)

P, One more step taken in the right direction. I must
send for Bridget at once, and install her in her new position.
(Rings, and THOMAS enters.) You may send up my new maid,

Thomas. (Hait Toomas.). I hope she will prove just too ut-

ter, (Enter Bripaxt, who stares stupidly around her.) So you
are Bridget?

Bripeet. Yis, mum,

P. Did the gentleman who engaged you tell you what was
expected of you?

He said I was to be a lady’s maid, mum.

P. That was right, and you may enter upon your duties at
once. You are to take care of my treasures in these rooms,
and to wait upon me, and attend to my wants.

B. Yis, mum, (Aside.) Faiv an’ I'd like to. see the trea-
sures. ;

P. Now you may sce what hour of the day it is ard
gome to tell me. a
Be Yis; mum. Where shall I find a clock, mum?_ .

P. (Horrifed.) Mrchath ~ °°

   

 

wr 4AaAnxnwe mm

 

 

      
 

Qa

ities
THE ASTHETE CURED. 68

\

B. A timepiece, mum, something to tell yo’s the time of the
day by, to be shure!

b. You will find a sun-dial in the garden, Lut never again
speak to me of a clock, a mere piece of machinery, nothing
naturala bout it. If youstay with me, Bridget, you must learn
my ways, and learn to perform your duties in strict accordance
with the principles of true Art. But perhaps you cannot un-

-derstand me. Do you?

B. (Stupidly.) Yis, mum. (Aséde.) Faith, an’ I think
she’s daft.

P. And now you may go and tell Thomas to give youa
white lily from the south garden, and bring it tome. ’Tis

- time for the noonday repast.

B. Did yer mean to say, mum, that ye wanted a flour for
yer dinner?

P. Dinner! - Ah, Bridget, I see I shall have to teach you
many things. There is no such word as dinner for me. Yet
I dare say you mean well. Yet, the contemplativa of a lily
will suffice for me. Go, bring it here. (Hv Bripaer.)
Clermont was right. Bridget will prove original, strikingly
so, and present a fresh study for me every day.

(Curtain fails.)

Scene II.—Same as scene first. Mr. Mason and Tuomas,
conversing.

THomas, But you see, Mr. Mason, I have been with the
family so long that it almost breaks my heart to think of
leaving. I have known Miss Philippa ever since she was five
years old, and since her parents died, leaving her under the
care of her uncle, who is just as good as no guardian at all.
Ihave felt as though I had some right to watch over her,
and care for her as much as a servant could, i this very
morning she told me that as soon as she could get such a

coe as she had in her mind, my services would no longer

e required.

J. This is bad indeed, Thomas, and I am heartily sorry for
you. :

T. There never was a sweeter nor kinder-hearted young
lady than Miss Philippa used to be, till about a year ago. At
times I’m really afraid, sir, that her mind must be affected

. Oh, not so bad as that, Thomas. In a little while, I

think she will grow tired of this and see the folly of it all.
But I came to ask you a few questions about this Mr. Cler-
mont who comes here so often. I am sorry to say I have my
suspicions of him, and I believe he is coming here only. to sce
what he can lay hands on and carry off with him. __

T. Now that you speak of it, sir, I will say that I have

 

 
a

ee

 

 

 

54 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

seen him looking around the house mighty sharp-like, when
he thought no one was looking. I took a dislike to him, sir,
the first time he come here, and he’s that overbearing in his
manner to us, even if he 7s an Austhete, as I believe they calls
themselves, that it is all I can do to be civil to him.

J: Well, now, Thomas, I'll tell you what I’m going to do,
and I shall want your assistance: Iam going to disguise my-
self as a green Irishman (which, I suppose, is the kind of ser-
vant she wants, if Bridget is a specimen) and apply for the
place, and then I can keep a watch on this fellow. I want you
to introduce me as a friend of yours lately landed. ©

T. A very good idea, sir, for poor Miss Philippa is that
unsuspicious she’d never think wrong of any one. If he
really is what you take him to be, I hope the officers will get
hold of him and give him a Sing Sing dress.

J. They'll get after him if I have my way. By the way,
Thomas, you needn’t consider yourself out of a place, while
I'm here. Just be in readiness to help me at any time, and I’ll
make it all right.

T. Oh, thank you, sir! You may count on me, sir, if you
need help.

J. NowImust go and make the necessary preparations,
and if my own brother would recognize me when | get here
again, just let me know.

Allright, sir, (Zit Jamms, and enter Miss PaILIPPa.)
Excuse me, ma’am, but as you were in need of another ser-
vant to take my place, might I beso bold as to ask you to
take Patrick Murphy, a friend-of mind, who has but just
landed this morning? Ihad a call from him a moment ago,
and he says he’s looking for a place like this, ma’am. I
think he would suit you well, for he’s very quick to learn, is
Patrick.

P. You might send him to me, Thomas, and I could see if
I thought he’d do. :

I’m sorry I could not please you, ma’am. I’ve been in
the family for many years, and ever since your dear parents
died, ’ve always made your interests my interests, and have
been as faithful as I could. . It’s-very hard, Miss Philippa.

P. Iknow you've tried to do well, Thomas, and it is not
your fault that you do not suit me exactly. You must not
feel hurt. I will give you an excellent recommendation when
you are ready to go. Now you may send Bridget to me.
(Zeit Tomas, wiping his eyes. Miss Puriiepa goes over to &
table and picks up an old blue dish.) Ah! How Intensely love-
ly! This blue is too utterly perfect! Clermont must have |
pee this. here as a surprise for ‘me. (Hnter See if

ridget, do you know where that antique. silver vase -is?- .
rine’ it from its usual place yesterday, and have not seen it
since. < . itis =

 
r

 

‘gan.

|

THE ASTHETE CURED. 55

_B. Faith, mum, an’ I haven’t laid eyes on it since I dusted
it yesterday morning. I wondered what had become av it
_ this morning when I was after dusting yer bricky-bracks.

P. Itis very strange. I am positive I haven’t moved it.
Still, in a fit of abstraction, I may have removed it to the other
room, I’ll go and sce. (Hvit.)

An’ may ye find it! It’s mighty lucky I was, to git it
out of me possission so soon, but John Smith, or Mr. Oler-
mont, as me lady knows ’im, don’t be after l’avin’ things long
wid me. If he don’t fork over a nice little slice of the profits,
V’'ll know the r’ason why, or me name’s not Bridget O’Flana-

(Enter Mr. CLERMONT.)

Mr. OC. Oh, so you're alone, are you? I want to know
how long you're going to be getting those diamonds for me?
lve waited till my patience is about exhausted, and I sha’n’t
wait much longer, 1 can tell you that!

B.. An’ how can ye help yersel’, I’d like to know? P’r’aps

e’d better be after gittin’ them for yerself, ye same to think
it’s so ’asy.

Mr. C. Oh, stop your nonsense now, and do try and get
them for me soon, like a — girl. She never wears them,
now she’s gone on Art and I should think you could manage
to get them without her knowledge. I need the spondulix
dreadfully, for I fear the officers are on my track now, about
another little diamond affair, and if you’ll get them for me,

ou may be sure I'll not forget you. See, here’s five dollars

or you. Get them as soon as you can.

B. Ah, now ye’re talkin’ sinse. Wull, I'll see how soon
it can be done. The mistress is just after missin’ the silver
vase, an’ it might not be safe to stale thim immajutly. How-
iver, she’s that absent-minded, I could take something from
right before her very eyes, an’ she not know it. i

kn: C. Do get them then, without any more palaver.

B. She was a-ravin’ over an ould broken blue dish that I
brought from me mither’s, an’ put on her table, jist to sce
what she’d say. She thinks you put it there for a surprise,
*an’ little does she know thatme mither used it for a soft-soap
dish for many a year. Ha! ha!

Mr. C. Pretty good, Biddy, my girl. Well, as I said be-
fore, Ill not forget you. And I suppose she thinks you as

green as the Emerald Isle itself, don’t she?

B. Faith, an’ that she does! She apes askin’ me sich
quare quistions about the ancient Britons, or some sich name,
as though I wor acquainted wid all the landed gentry of Ire-

| ana but I niver lets on, an’ jist answers her kind of stupid-

e.
Mr. C.. All right. But, here she comes and I think I'll

<n al

 

 
ee

Spas ae

 

 

 

58 THE DIME ‘DIALOGUES.

leave. Icouldn’t stand the blue dish just now. Don’t for |

get the diamonds, and remember you want to hurry youre
(Exit.

B. Oh, I'll remimber, fast enough, an’ if I don’t get some |

good pay for me trouble, it won’t be because I don’t knoW
how to kape me mouth shut.
(Curtain falls.)

 

Scrnz III.—Same as before. Miss Parurrpa seated, engaged

with some embroidery or something of that kind. James MA:

SON, who is effectually disguised by a red wig and beard, and

general get-up, as PATRICK, ts standing before her, as though

awaiting orders.

P. Patrick, have you fed the peacocks yet?

Parrick: Yes, miss, an’ such purthy cr’atur’s I niver be
fore laid eyes on. They’re that han’sum that I c’u’d look at
them all day.

P. You please me very much by your attention to my_

favorites, Patrick, and Iam also pleased to observe that you
have an eye for the beautiful. 1 think you will soon learn

to know and recognize the beautiful in everything. I shall |.

take pleasure in directing your mind into the proper channels,
for I see in you the making of a true esthete.

Par. J’m sure I thank ye, ma’am, fur the kind interist ye
take in me, an’ I only hope I may fulfill yer expectations.
An’ may I be so bold as to say sumthin’ that’s bin on me mind
iver since the furst day I intered yer service?

P. Certainly, Patrick.

Par. Then, miss, I think ye ought to be on yer guard,
miss, against that Bridget. I’m shure that she means no good

to ye, miss, an’ that she knows more than she’s willin’ to tell

about some things as have b’in’ missin’ of late. Beggin’ yer
pardin, miss, if I oughtn’t ter have spoken, but I couldn't rest
easy till ’'d told ye what was on me mind.

. [have no doubt but that you mean well, but I certainly
think you must be mistaken, Patrick. Bridget takes a great
interest in all that interests me, and I do not think her capable
of deceit towardme. She is too simple, too artless, to wish
to harm me, and I’m sure she’d never steal.

Pat. Very well, miss, but pl’aze don’t think me meddlin’,
for I was only thinking of yer own welfare.

P. Certainly, I understand, Patrick, but you must dismiss
such thoughts from your mind immediately. (Patrick bows
and exit.) Clermont said he would be here to-day to give mé
some advice as to the arrangement of the new Art-treasures
am to receive. Ah, I hear him now.

(PATRICK announces ‘‘ MR. CLERMONT.”’)
Mr. C. Ah, Miss Philippa, again I have the pleasure of

‘meeting you. There are’so few in this rude and busy world

ee ee Bo PP. th oo +t

 
for-
elf:
) I

me

ow

[A-
nd

e-
at

yu
mn
J
s,

e
y
d

ae ee eee

gh

THE ASTHETE CURED. 87

Who have educated themselves in the principles of Art, and
Who have sought to raise themselves above the ordinary level
of the commonplace, that it is a pleasure indeed to meet with
One of those few.

I may say the same. I so seldom meet with one who
knows and appreciates my sentiments that your visits are

} even more than a pleasure tome. Now I want to thank you

red

for pee such a pleasant surprise for me. I just discov-
ered the blue dish this morning, and I knew at once whose

hand had placed it there. It was just like you, my dear

friend, to do so unobserved, and without attracting attention,
but I can thank you now.
Mr. ©. You do mea great honor by accepting it, I assure

you, my dear Miss Philippa. It used to belong to a great

aunt, of my grandfather’s, and has been handed down, till
finally it has reached me, and I at once thought how well it

7 ; ea. accord with your rooms, and what a pleasure it would
- show you some curious marks on it. (Z'hey go over to table,

to see it here, so here it is. Jet us examine it. I wish to

turning their backs to the audience, and begin conversing. BRIDGET

_ enters with broom and duster, and passes behind them, thrusting

@ small parcel into Mr. Cirermont’s hand as she does so.

 

Parrick has tiptoed in after her, and unobserved by her. He
now springs jyorward, and grasps Mx. CLERMONT by the collar,
and pees by the arm.)

Par. Arrah, an’ I’ve caught ye now, me purthy burds!
(Miss Puinippa screams.)

Mr. C. (Struggling.) -Let go, you infernal scoundrel, what
do . mean!

. Let me go, or I'll call the police, ye villain!
- P. What does this mean? Patrick, release your hold at
once!

Par. Just let them call the police, once. I wish they would.
Here, miss, take this package an’ see what’s in it. (Hands
her the package which she opens while the seufile ts going on. In
the scuffle Patrick's wig falls off, and Brpvy pulls his beard off,
and he is revealed as Mr. JAMES MASON.) :

P. My diamonds! (Looking up.) Patrick, James, what
does this mean?

Par. Here, Thomas! (THomas rushes in, but Mr. CLER-
MONT escapes.) Here, hold this girl, while I go after that
Scoundrel. (Rushes out and comes in, dragging MR. CLER-

‘Mont with him, who is resisting violently.)

_ J. Now stop your fooling, or I'll call the police, and then
80 much the worse for you, John Smith! P
P. John Sinith! What does this all mean? I am so bes
Wildered!
J. It means-that this fellow’s true name is John Smith—
‘that he is a thief and an adventurer—that he has. had an ac-

 

$a

|
ia
i
4

 
 

58 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

eomplice in this Irish girl, who was only let out of prison a
few months ago, where she had served a term for robbery—
that he has been connected with several diamond robberies

lately, and was only waiting for your diamonds, to get out of ©
the country with them. I suspected who he was, long ago, —

but could not prove it, and as you sent me away so decidedly,
Philippa, I could keep watch over him in no other way than
by entering your house in disguise, which I did, aided by
your old servant here, Thomas, who, too, had suspected him.
7 hope you will forgive me, Philippa, but I could not stand
by and see you robbed and cheated and so deceived by this
impostor. I just caught this girl as she was in the act of put-
ting the diamonds in this villain’s hand.

Oh, I have nothing to forgive. Rather, how can I
thank you for all you have done for me? I fear I have been
fatally mistaken, and if I had not been so blinded by my fool-
ish craze, I must have seen that he was not what he appeared
to be. Now I know where my silver vase disappeared to.
Oh, Bridget, Bridget!

The question only remains—what to do with this fel-
low? Shall I hand him over to the police, or let him go ona
promise of leaving the country?

a Oh, let him go, quick! I can’t endure the sight of

m

T. Isha’n’t let him go, then. He'll come along with me to
the police, that he will, or I lose my guess.

J. Take him along then, and I'll help you. (THomAs,
who has been tying BRIDGET’s hands together behind her back,
nor tics Mr. CLERMONT’, and taking hold of an arm of each,
marches them out.)

P. Oh, James! What can I say to thank you?

J. Nothing, only give me yourself again, Philippa. That
is all I ask, and this unfortunate episode will be forgotten.

P. (Turning aside.) As you like, James. (He springs for-
ward to her side, and the curtain falls.)

JIM BRODERICK’S LESSON.
" FOR TWO BOYS.
(Enter Ricwarp rather foppishly dressed, with cane in hand.)

Ricwarp. Oh, dear, this eternal talk about economy—to
count the very pennies I spend! I get very tired of it and it's
confounded mean in father not to give me all the money I
want to spend without asking what I spend it for. D’m just
getting sick of it, but as he holds the key to the safe I dont
see how I’m to help myself. I might just as well be old Jim
Broderick’s son who has to dress on twenty-five dollars ayear

 
 

 

 

JIM BRODERICK’S LESSON. 69

—which he earns by extra hours’ work. It is astonishing how
mean some fathers can be. (Hnier Jim.) Hello, Jim—where
now?
Jim. Down to the pier for a little night work.
R. Work? Don’t you ever get tired of your cternal work?
J. Well, suppose Ido? Being a poor man’s son | have no
choice but work, unless I steal, or live off of my rich relatives,
and it’ll take a stroke of apoplexy to make me do either, and
then I wouldn't.
R. Seems to me you are mighty independent. ;
_ J. Ican afford to be, and that’s just where the fun comes
in. :

R. Afford to be? How can a poor man’s son be indepen-
dent, I’d like to know?

J. I’m under obligations to nobody. I earn my own living
and help my father along, besides; and when I spend a dollar
it is my own, to spend as I please.

R. But you have to work so—that’s confounded hard; no
time to play, no chance to be out with the boys, and have to
earn your money before you can spend it. You are a nice
fellow—were cut out for a gentleman, but of course you can
never be one 80 long as you have to work for a living.

J. Never bea gentleman so long as I work for a living?
Ha-ha-ha! (Zaughs.) That’s funny. Is your father a gen-
tleman? j

R. Of course he is! What a question!

J. How can he be? He works for a living—hard; is at his
store twelve hours aday. And lawyer Sharp—is he a gentle-
man?

R. Of course he is.

J. Howcan he be? He works way into the night; he is
the busiest man in town. And Dr. Peck—is he a gentleman?

R. Of course—a perfect gentleman, with a mighty nico
daughter.

J. But, heis only a working man; he has to earn every
dollar he spends; he is at work even when you and I are
asleep. And, if you will only look into the matter you will
find, as a rule, that. all those who are really best entitled to the
name of gentleman are workers—head and hand workers, never
shirking their share of the world’s work—without which the
world would go back to barbarism.

R.. Why, that’s a queer way to talk!.

J. It’s good horse sense; and it is good horse sense to go a
step further and say that those who don’t work, but live only
to spend the money others have earned, are the meanest of
men. It is usually they who turn up their noses at the work-

ing man, and put on airs,.and_ talk about the ‘‘upper classes,” .

the ‘‘middle classes,” the ‘‘lower classes,” I’m a little fellow,
and haven’t traveled much, but I already have learned to

 

a

  

 
60 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

measure a.man by his zworks—by what he does for himself and
for others, and to regard all money or riches as only a means
to some good end. If 1 wanted to spend money that I had not
earned I’d be a mean. sneak and a contemptible dependent.
All I have I shall earn honestly, and be proud that I have only
what I have earned. If that does not win for me the right to
the world’s respect then it will be because the world is full of
fools, whose highest ambition is to suck a cane-head and
dawdle away their years in playing the gentleman. But, good
day, Richard. Go home and. sleep over it, and perhaps you
mae, see how mean a place in life a do-nothing occupies. Ta-
ta (Exit.)
R. Well, I declare! Why, confound the fellow. did. he
mean me? Just as sure as I live he did. Am I not a do-noth-
ing? Just as sure asI live Tam! Am | one of the fools
whose highest ambition is to suck a cane-head and dawdle
away a years in trying to play the gentleman? I—guess—I
—am. ut, as sure as 1 am my father’s son thisendsit. Jim
Broderick’s son shall not look with contempt down on me. Vl
go to work, to-morrow, and play the true gentleman in father’s
store by sharing his burdens and proving myself worthy of the
respect of allmen. Jim Broderick, I thank you! (Zzit.)

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY.-
A VILLAGE CONFAB.
FOR FIVE FEMALES.

Characters :—Mrs. SHarx, Miss Gupa@non, Monin and
' Brppy.

(The scene represents the interior of a country kitchen. Mrs.
SHARK discovered knitting, MOLLE ts sewing and Miss Gupe-
EON sitting with her hands before her.) :

Miss Guperon. And how do you like the new school-
marm, Miss Shark? She seems to be a very likely piece. The
committee says she’s an all-fired master hand to teach. Those
moughtn’t be their very words but them was their sediments.

Mrs. SHARK. Well! you ask me how I like her, and I must
say that she is not a poor boarder, and eats her full share, and
seems bound I sha’n’t make too much out of her board money.
I don’t like to convict myself by saying jest how I do like her
and so I’ll say humph. And no one can take me up for de-
famation of character if I just say humph! Can they? ;

Miss G. To be shore not, Miss Shark; to be shore not!
But when any one says humph, of course they only says that,
but when they do say that, there’s somethink more behind it
and they thinks and meang more than they says.

 

 
Oe

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY. ¢1

Mrs. 8. There’s things that is mysteries some on us cannot
fathom, and that ’ere schoolmarm is one of them’ere mysticali-
ties. Yet, mind you, | don’t say anythink ag’in’ her’cause I
don’t know for certain sure there és anythink ag’in’ her; but

all is privileged to have their thinks, and what I thinks I thinks,

and thinks to myself, I ain’t one on your town criers, I ain’t,
to set the town by the ears, or the river on fire. No, Miss
Gudgeon, that isn’t me, one speck.

Miss G. Well, now. I did have a good think concerning
her. She seemed kind of quiet, and the scholars jest worship
her, and she’s good, too; for many a night has she sat. up
With old Miss Downs when she was sick, and twa’n’t for ex-
pectin’ of pay, neither, cause the land knows Miss Downs is
a3 poor as a Church sextant. And she’s pious, too, for she can

uote Scriptur’ equal to the parson.

Mrs. 8. We hadn’t oughter jedge folks by their outside gar-
ments, ‘cause tho’ the boots may be polished and shine like the
sun their stockings may be dirty and need soap and water.
The world is jest like a circus and humanerty is no more than
tumblers and crowbats. They look so brave and spangly,
and_as though they wore the champion belt for goodness.
And when you think they are doing acts that shall sound
abroad and hand down their names to prosperity they make a
misstep and down they come, flop /

Moire. (Aside.) More expressive than elegant.

Miss G. Mebbe you're right. Talkin’ Scriptur’ ain’t as
gocd as acting of it out. But then, you know, and I know,
and the Lord knows, we ain’t any better than we hadn’t
oaghter be. Massy knows I’m not. An’ sech bein’ the case,
hadn’t we better cast the film of charity about other folks’
actions? ButI didn’t know as you ever attended the cir-
cus?

Mrs. 8. I used to go to take the children to sce that they
came away from the tents of the Evil One oncontaminated.
The temptation was set afore me in the street parade which
didn’t cost nothing and the old man Adam kept a-nudgin’ and
nudgin’ me to visit the show, and, ’fore [ jest knew where I
was, I found myself on the seat inside the tent, and, as I had
paid my money, of course, I had to stay to get my money’s
worth. I’d been saving that money to buy shoes to send to
the heathens who walk in darkness. And every time I think
how I made use of that money I can’t help thinking how them
vere heathens must be a-howlin’ fer shoes. But I guess 1
must relieve my mind and tell you something about that ’ere
teacher. j;

M. Iguess I must be going. Ever since Miss Trueman
came to teach in this village, aunt Huidy has been trying to
pick her and her character to pieces. I don’t like to hear her

talked against and so I will leave you. They say “the re-

 
 

62 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

ceiver is as bad as. the thief,” and the one who listens to
gossip is as bad as the gossipers themselves. Form your own
opinion, Miss Gudgeon, and doubtless aunt Huldy influences
you against Miss Trueman, for the teacher is just as good as
gold and true as steel,

Mrs. 8. Well, if things ain’t coming to a pretty time of
day when I’m told what my duty ought to be by a niece that
I have tended, and brought up, and given a home and vittles
and eddication when she was an orphing and hadn’t none of
her own. A pretty pass indeed. (Shows her anger.)

M. Yes, aunty, and I’m grateful to you. Indeed and in-

deed, lam. And you are good at heart; if you would only

let your tongue do as much as your heart does no one would
find cause for complaint. I have endeavored to repay your
kindness by constant work, but that is neither here nor there.
I’m sorry | spoke as I did and I wil/ be more careful in the
future. Miss Trueman has been good and kind to me. Per-
haps I owe to her the saving of much. misery, of even death
itself, and so I could not help saying a good word for
oy friend who was absent and who could not speak for her-
self,

Miss G. That is but right and proper, Mollie. ATlus speak
well of the bridge as takes you safe across the pond and the
water pail what never leaks,

Mrs. 8. . Well, Mollic. If you don’t want to hear what
I’ve got to say I won’t ask you tostop. But, I’ve got an awful
story in my mind, and I must tell it to somebody or I shall ex-

lode. It haunts me by day, and it keeps me awake the live-

ong night. It is something awful about the school-marm,

_ too. Ihave proof positive of her evil doin’s—somethink as

come before my very eyes, and when I see with my own eyes
1 don’t see with my mouth or ears.

I did not mean any offense, aunty. Perhaps I spoke
before I thought. There are two sides to every story; the
bright side and the dark side. Yours seems as though it was
going to be the dark side; and, may be, I can clear up the
mystery and show you the bright side.

Irs. 5. I don’t see how you can do so, Mollie, because
my eyesight never deceives me, ’specially when I have my
best pair of specs on and what I sees with my eyes I know I
sees, The Lord knows I don’t wish no human creatur’ wrong
or harm, and if you can clear up the mysticality I’m sure I’m
not the one to be sorry, ’cause it is my natur’ to think well of
the erring ones. But, it can’t be did, Mollie. It can’t never
be cleared this side of the grave-yard, and all the lines on her
tombstun can’t cover or blot out what my eyes bore witness
vo. It’s a world of wickedness, Miss Gudgeon, and the way of
the transplanters is hard.

Miss G. That’s so, Mrs. Shark, and we are gettin’ nigher

 

  
   

    

 

 
ens to
r own
ences
od as

ne of
that
ttles
e of

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nly
uld —
ur
re.
he
er
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OF

 

 

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY. 63.

to eternity the longest day we have to live. But I allus

thought the way of the translators was hard.

M. Is it not transgressors?

Mrs. 8. You’ve hit the word at the first shot. I knowed
all along it was some kind of a trance,

Miss G. Well, let us hear the stories for I must be goin’

_ home to get supper, for I left everythin’ t’other way which,
for I’d no idee of stoppin’ so long.

Mrs. 8. Well, then, to make a short story long, as the say-
ing is, I actually caught Miss Trueman talkin’ to a great aw-
ful man under a tree in the woods, and after dark, too.
was comin’ home from a quiltin’ and cut through Jason Wad-
ley’s timber lot when I ran afoul of that ’ere schoolmarm and
the man as I have hereinto before mentioned. They didn’t
see nor hear me for I hid behind a tree and was as still and
quiet as a mouse when it is after cheese. I wasn’t near
enough to hear what they said, but if this ’ere man. is her lover
Why don’t he court her in broad daylight? or, if they must
court in the dim moonlight under the forest trees, why can’t
they talk loud enough so some one can hear what they has to
say to each other? “Where there’s secrecy, there’s sure to be
guilt. Now what have you got to say to that, Mollie? Maybe -
you'll say I was dreaming, but I was just as wide awake as
you are at this identical minute. Now, don’t go for to deny
that she didn’t meet a man where I say she did, because she
did just so sure as preachin’.

MW Well, aunty, Pll not contradict you.

Mrs. S. You hadn’t better not, because you can’t do so.

M. Iknow she did meet that man but she and I did not
know any one else knew of it.

Mrs. 8S. More secrecy. And you in the plot, too! The
oa of that to listen to! If you knowed it why didn’t you tell
of it? :

M. It isn’t always best to tell all one knows. This, I will
assure you—she went there for no ill purpose. Rather was
it from the very best and purest of motives,

Miss G. Mebbe this man was some sort of kith or kin to
her. I’ve heerd of such things in books, : {

M. No, he was no relation whatever. Maybe I should
have never told my side of the story had I not known some
one had misconstrued Miss Trueman’s motives; and the blame,
if there is any, should be with me, and one doesn’t like to tell
of one’s own misconduct and foolishness. But, Miss True-
man went to see that man to save me from a life of the ut-
most wretchedness.

Mrs. 8. Sho! Git out! Why how you talk! ,

Miss G. The tragedy gets deeper and deeper and we
may get down to bed rock afore we know it, as the miners

 
   
  

64 . THE DIME DIALOGUES.

  

M. IknowI was silly; but I did not think so then. I
thought I was going to be a heroine. You see, I had read so
many foolish love stories that my head was packed full of them
and { wanted to be just such a heroine as I had read about.
I was coming home from the post-office one afternoon, and,
just before the hotel, there stood just the handsomest man my
eyes ever beheld. He was just the image of some of the
heroes in-the novels, and looked just as though he had step-
ped out of one of the books. J was so startled I dropped my
letters and he picked them up and handed them to me. Then
we met once in a while and he would bow and smile and raise
his hat. Then, he would wait for me on the hotel steps. and
we would take short walks, and he told me how lonely his
life was, and that he had loved me from the moment he first
saw me, and made me promise to be his wife, and I consented
because I pitied him, and thought I loved bim; and that very
night aunty saw Miss Trueman and that man together was
the very night I was going to elope with that very man.

Miss G. How very extry-ordinary.

Mrs. 8. You’d oughter be Ieckcd in the room for seven
days and not look on mortal humannerty and be fed on
Urvad and water passed through the key-hole for your miscon-

uct.

M. It seems to me, now, as though no punishment could
be too severe. Miss Trueman seemed to have guessed my
secret and knew where I was going that night as she met me
at the door, and gave me such a chiding—and all so kindly
meant—I could but listen to her «nd heed her words. She had
known this man in other days, and knew but little geod and
much evil of him; for he had wronged her sister and she also
knew him to be a forger and warned me against him. She
met him instead of me, and told him to cease his attentions to
me or she would expose his villainy to the world, and com-
manded him to leave the place. He was a coward and feared
exposure; so, the next day, he did as she had ordered him to;
but, just as he was getting on the cars he was arrested for
some crime and now is in prison. I thought it was love for
him I had, but it was only a silly infatuation. "When I heard
of his arrest I pitied him. When I heard how much soriow
Miss Trueman’s sister had suffered through his vileness I
loathed and hated him.

(Enter Brovy, hastily.)

Brppy. Och! <An’if ye plaze Miss Gudgy, the boarders
has come home, and they're jist howling mad bekase there’s
no supper ready for them; and the cat fell in the flour barrel,
and ye left the candle burnin’ on the table after ye lit the fire
and the wind tumbled it over and set some papers on fire and
the house might have been burnt up to the skies if the schcol-
marm hadn’t happined along jist in the nick of time end

make
cause

 
 

hetped
geome a
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my te

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and |
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and,

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18

my

A TEST THAT TOLD. 65

 hetped me put it out, and saved your house and fortin’. But,
- €ome along, for the boarders is jist a-howlin’!

Miss G. . How unreasonable some folks will be.
(Heit with Bropy.)

Mrs. 8. You have taught me several lessons. When I

hear any wrong of others I'll try to keep my tongue between
my teeth or think folks may be mistaken and do all I can to

Make the wrong right. My meddlesome tongue might have
Caused much mischief. I’ve allus noticed we are apt to be-

_ lieve there’s more of evil than of good in our feller-creeters,

and I guess it is because we are allus hunting for that evil and
don’t never seek for the good. I’mgoin’ to turn about and do
better’n I have done. And now, we will goand put upa
basket of goodies for old Miss Downs and pick some of our

choicest grapes for that dear, noble and good schoolmarm.
(Heeunt.)

A TEST THAT TOLD.
A LESSON IN DISGUISE,
FOR FIVE MALE CHARACTERS.

Characters :—Apv1son Exmet, Ewin Jaynes, Issac Currcu

and OLLY THORNDIKE, young men at an academy ; Mx.
Currey, a farmer, on a visit to the village. -

(The scene represents a plain apartment. The four young men
discovered seated. Some reading and others studying.)
Appison Emmet. (Reading aloud.)
“* We shape ourselves the joy or fear
Of which the coming life is made,

And fill our Future’s atmosphere
With sunshine or with shade.”

Etwin Jaynes. _That’s pretty good poetry.

Isaac Cuircu. I call it extra good.

Oxiuy Tuornpies. I shall reserve my opinion until I know
who built it.

A, That’s just like you, Olly. You should say ‘‘who com-
posed it.” hy reserve your decision until you know who
“built it "—as you remark?

O. Well, you have always accused me of being too impetu-
ous, acting before thinking and not weighing my words before

iving utterance to them; sol thonght I'd exercise a little
orethought on this occasion before I committed myself. The
other day I was guilty of the grievous—and I don’t know but
unpardonable—sin, of praising a bit of poetry that hadn’t the
name of some big author tied to it—just as though it read

 
 

66 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

‘this piece must be good because this author wrote it,” and
did not go into a fever of ecstasy at aspoem that one of the
big guns of poetry did shoot off. I may not be a good judge
of poetry but I know what sounds well to my ears.

K. Olly is not very choice in his reading.

A. Nor in his language either, it would seem. His thoughts
run more on cricket and base-ball and guns. I fear he will
never steady down to the duties and sober realities of life.

O. Time enough for that yet. The ‘‘ grave responsibilities
of life” do not sit very heavily on my shoulders as yet but,
when they do comel believe my shoulders will be broad
rs and strong enough to bear them, and to bear them
alone. g

I. For my part, I would have Olly just as he is, careless
and happy, speaking and acting just as he feels and right from
his heart.

A. Isuppose he must not be blamed for that. But, Olly
is as impetuous in his actions as he is in his speech.

As, for instance, when he gave away his quarterly

allowance to some old tramp who imposed upon him with a
trumped-up story of a dying wife and sick children; when we
found out, afterward, the old scamp was a bachelor and the
money went for drink poured down the old toper’s throat.
No, no, Olly will never be a good business man if he hasn’t
more forethought and he will never be rich, or even moder-
ately well off, if he makes such use of his money.

O. What would you have done in such a case?

A. Jshould have examined into all the circumstances and
seen if the recipient were worthy of my bounty.

O. Called a meeting to investigate the affair, and passed
resolutions and let the case of destitution pass at the same
time, for it might have been a case of real distress. I'd rather
have it on my conscience that the money went for drink than
that a person died for a piece of bread because I withheld the
money that might have procured the necessary food.

I. All the more in your praise, Olly, old fellow.

E.  ‘* Revenons a nos moutons.” Who “ built” the poetry?

A. The lines, which, of course are good, were written by
Whittier.

I. And, true enough they are. We must carry our own
destinies in our own hands. We build our own castles. We
can make our own joy or sorrow as well as that of other people,
We make other lives happier by restraining our own passions
- and vicious ee we make those very lives a bur-

den by our own misconduct. A man may drink and drink to
excess, and he may think he is the only one who has the dis-
ce; but he does not stop to think of his family who love
im in spite of all his faults but who, too often, have to bear
the stigma with the wrong doer himself. 5

ven
a .
earth
ard

 

 
 

 

A TEST THAT. TOLD. 87

| A... Their own fault, it strikes me, and if J hada relation
given to drink I would cast him off and let him shift for him-
| Self; it would not matter if he were my nearest and dearest of

earthly kin. Thank Heaven! Ihave no father who is a drunk-

I. Perhaps if you had you would feel, think, speak and act

; differently. (Aside.) If he knew the truth, what would he
Say? If he did know the truth I should think his language
} | Was insulting,

A. Aman or youth who commences to drink knows. that
he must make himself a slave to the habit; he maps out his
own course in the atlas of life, knowing the consequences and
should be left to abide by them. Ifaman walks knowingly
and willingly into a pit he should be left there.

O. Well, you had just better believe J wouldn’t leave him
there. I'd jump into the pit too, and try to help him out. A
man may want to commit suicide but Z don’t want him to,
and he should not be allowed to do so while I was around.
Maybe, that is poorly expressed but it is just exactly what I
mean.

J. The meaning is admirable, no matter for the way in
which it is expressed.

E.. Olly has some odd sentiments,

I. He speaks from his heart and his sentiments are more
noble than odd. If I ever wanted a friend, who would be true
to me through thick and thin, ‘‘through good report and evil

report,” I should seek out Olly Thorndike.

OQ, And you would always find him at home, but may you
never come because trouble drives you there.

I. Well, you know, Olly, ‘‘it is not always May,” and sun-
shine is not always with us, for

‘“Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”

0. I guess—come to think of it—it is better so. You know

the little verse that says:
“‘T ask not a life for my dear ones
All cloudless, as others have done;

But that life may have just enough shadow
To temper the glare of the sun.”

E. We are growing quite poetical, to-day.

I. There’s a deal of truth mingled with the poetry. But I
have an engagement at the station so must go, but will be back
soon. (Takes his hat and exits.)

A. Seems to me there is something singular about Ike, to-
day, more than usual, and I have always noticed he appears
as though he was acting a part, assuming a cheerful spirit
when he has it not. And there seems to be something to worry
him, to-day. Have you noticed it?

 

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68 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

E. Yes, indeed, I have and have often commented upon it

myself. Maybe—to quote poetry again—

“ He has a silent sorrow too;
A grief he can’t impart.”

We might probe the wound and see where the bullet lies, Jn |

other words, ask him the cause of his gloominess.
O. Oh, no; I wouldn’t do that; it might make him feel

worse. If he wanted to tell us the cause of his troubles he |
would do so of his own accord. Better let matters remain |

where they are and not let him see we suspect he has any
troubles. (Knock at the door heard.) .
E. Eh! Who can that be, ] wonder? Walk in.
(Enter Mr. Currcu.)
Mr. Curren. Gen-tlemen, I ask you in the name of—in the

name of—the great and grand—grand—diloquent Dan—Dan- —

yell Webster—the apos—apos—apostate, apostle of the spell—

spelling-book, who said—said I cannot tell a—tell a—telagram —

—give me lib—give me lib—give me liberty or give me some
—thing that’s—that’s—good to eat.

E. Drunk as a boiled owl.

A. Who are you and what do you want here?

Mr. C. Young gent—gentle—men, I have come.

A. Well, we see you have come, and now you have come
what do you want? -

Mr. C. I have come—have come to see—to see—Isaac
Chirch—was he not—was he or was he not? No if he was not
—not—he couldn’t have been was. Was—he—expecting of
me to his aunt’s—sister’s—hall? An—ces—tral hall, I mean.

A. Are you one of Isaac’s friends? He will, no doubt, be
delighted to see you and proud to introduce us to you. He is
not here at present.

Mr. C. You see I am a sort of—kind of—well, I don’t mind
—telling you con—con—confoundedly; uo, no, con—fi—den
—tially that I am—I am—a relative relation of his and it does
me honor to say—to say it. I take—take—quite a fatherly—
fatherly interest in that young—young man’s farewell—I mean
welfare. : :

A. He must be very much obliged to you. From present
appearances, your welfare needs the most looking after.

O. - What's the use of chaffing the man, anyway? Let us
hear what he has to say for himself. Let us treat him well for
Ike’s sake.

Mr. C. Young man—young man—you’ve got it in you to
be—to be—a student. Book knowl—knowledge isn’t every—
everything in the world. Human nature, human nature must
be studied—studied too. There’s all kinds of sums to be add—
added up that isn’t in the airth—arithmetics. ;

E. And you and Olly here had best go into partnership in
the tcaching business.

 

      
 
   
 
 
 
   

   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
 
 

    
on it

In

feel
| he
lain

any |

| You will see more ghosts, spirits, demons and snakes than you

A TEST THAT TOLD. | 69

0. We might teach some people manners, at least, even if
We couldn’t give them sense.
_ A. There is one sum | think you must have learned, or
Should have learned by this time.” "Tis a simple sum in sub-

traction. Take away one’s senses, respectability, manliness,

nd all that goes to make a man, from the man himself by

drink, and you leave nothing but a miserable sot. That. is
What I consider you to be. J believe the truth should be spoken

at all times. ,
E. <A poor way that to reform a drunkard. Ridicule is a
More powerful weapon. Mr. Man if you keep on drinking

Can shake a stick at. You will be like the toper who fell into

& pig-pen and exclaimed—‘‘I’ve made my—my—my bed and

80 | must lie in it, even if the c-c-company isn’t very select.”
Mr. C.. Is thai so? Why, why, I do declare it makes me

| makes me sleepy—just to think—think of it.

O. Then Ul tell you what you had best do. Lie downa

- little while and you will feel better. Perhaps, after you get
Tested, Isaac will return. You can lie down on my bed in the

hext room just as well as not. Please to come with me, sir. »
(Enter Isaac.)

Mr. C. Hollo, Ike! You see—you see—I have—have
come; and now you have—you have—come, don’t see why we

- Can't all have a jolly—good—time together. You needn’t let

—let the other—other boys know who I am—I have not—have
not told ‘em.

I. Father, you here and in this condition? Iam glad to
See you, yet sorry that you are—are ill.

Mr. C. Drunk, my dear fellow. Might as well—as well—
Own to the—to the truth of it. Drunk, not with too much
h-happiness but w-with too much w-whisky.

A. Is this man truly your father?

I. He is, and never will I seek to disown him, come what

may.

b Your father a drunkard?

I. Can you not see for yourself his condition?

O. I-say, fellows, stow away all this talk. The man is
tired and wants to rest. He shall come into my room and lie
down until he feels better, and I will go down-stairs and get
him some nice hot coffee.

I. Fora drunkard, Olly?

O. For your father, Ike. For a tired man. If a man
wants help, or I see one needing it, ’'m not going to wait to
ask him if he knows the ten commandments ere I try to help
him. ;

I. I hoped, and wished, that father had reformed. I know
he used to drink. But, drink or not, he is my father and I
will do all I can for him as he has ever done by me.

 
70 THE DIME DIALOGUES.
‘

Mr. C. And so he has reformed, entirely and completely,
my dear boy. I was but acting a part te see who would prove
your truest friends, and if you would own me, spite of my
seeming inebriety. Your friend here (¢o A.) sco!ded, cen-
sured and condemned; (to E.) and this one ridiculed, mocked
and jeered me. (700.) While this one proved his good heart,
and true nobility of character by neither censuring nor jeer
ing, but offering me a bed to rest on. God will bless him for |
that generous heart of his.

I. That was just like Olly.

A. It seems to me we could be taught a lesson by Olly and
Ike’s father.
E. And we poked so much fun at Olly the other day be-

cause he could not spell ‘‘ Metaphrastic.”

A. Isee our error now, and President Chadbourne was
right when he said: ‘‘ Education does not consist in mastering

languages, but is found in that moral training which extends |_

beyond the school-room to the play-ground and the street, and

which teaches that a meaner thing can be done than to fail in | J

recitation.” ; :

E. And we have been guilty of that meaner thing. I don’t |
think we are wanted here. ; {

A. We should ask Mr. Chirch’s pardon, and we must do so ©
when we can prove, by our actions, we are worthy of forgive-
ness.

Mr. C. Stay, young men! I felt hurt; but I will forgive,
as I think you will protit by the lesson you have learned. Take
an example from our friend here. ‘‘Judge not that ye be not
judged.” ‘Doas you would be done by,” for ‘“‘we know
what we now are but we know not what we may become.”

(Curtain. falis.)

WOOING ‘BY PROXY; or, MANEUVERING MISS
DOVER.

FOR THREE GENTLEMEN AND TWO LADIES.
Characters :-—Mr. Hauer, @ bachelor ; Mr. WrEx, a@ bachelor ;

Mr. Brass; Miss Dover, @ reputed heiress ; Miss MARTIN,

her friend.

Scrunze I.—Readingroom. Mr. Hare seated reading newspe-
per. Mr. WEEK pacing up and down the room, in troubled
meditation. ,
Week. Heigho!  ‘‘Man’slife’s a vapor, and full of woes!’

that ought to be changed to ‘‘an old bachelor’s life is a vapor

and full of woes.” Hello, there, Hale. (HALE looks up from

 
ly;
ve
ny

1

rt,
eT
or

i, LS

WOOING BY PROXY.

| Rewepaper.) Do you know I seriously contemplate matrimony ?

ow don’t ‘look’ so incredulous! l knew you. would, but sit

| Can’tintinence me, one peg. You are, so confirmed in: your

‘ntipathy to the fair sex—every one knows that,
Hatz. But I thought you were equally so, my dear boy.

| Peliow-sufferers and sympathizers. we have always: been, in
this respect, but here you are breaking out in a, most. unac- |

Countable. manner. , What’s.come over the spirit of your
eam?
W.. Why—nothing especial, only—I’ye been thinking it
Over seriously, as 1 never did before, and have come. to the

} Conclusion that an old bachelor’s life is, at the best, a dreary
| One. It’s all very well if you're young and lively—when the

girls all vote you ‘‘ splendid,” and the mammas are so, kind
and motherly, and you spend your time in just enjoying life

ind unlimited freedom. But it’s different as men get older,

Hale—when we are left out in the cold by the young folks,
have no home ties, are surrounded by no loving wife or family

to minister: to, our comfort and happiness—

H. (Solemnly.) Week, as sure as I’m a born sinner, you’ve

| fallen in love!

W.  (Defiantly.) Well, what. if I have? I’m a mortal as

" well as the rest of the world. . You needn’t think; Hale, that

because you got the mitten when you were twenty-one, and
chose to turn woman-hater, that every other man in Christen-
dom has got to do the same thing.

H. eck, my boy, you've got it, dad; but there’s no use
getting excited. I never said anything of the kind, and if
there’s to be a discussion on the subject, let it be from a com-
Mon-sense stand-point. I don’t believe.in matrimony, but—
don’t despise it.. I think, a man’s a thousand times better
off unmarried, for he’s free, free as air, no cares, no responsi-
bility, no any thing but.to enjoy himself; and I thought
you felt the same, and that in this respect we were kindred
Spirits.

OW. And that is where you were mistaken—in fact, grossly
deceived by me, Hale, I don’t hate matrimony, nor women
—indeed. Irather Wke them. I only pretended to, to cover
up my weakness... Despise-me if, you will, for. the unmanly
confession | am about to-make, but believe me, it can’t be
helped, and pity me if you can, Hale, ’m Basnron! Now,
knew, you wouldn't, believe, it, but it’s true, as gospel, I

don't hate the girls; I’m simply afraid of them. . When wasa

boy it was just so; to raise my hat to one, of the opposite sex
would make me tremble, and 'to have one speak to me would
start the cold perspiration.. Why, what I have gone through
With makes me wonder that I am yet alive! The older I
grow. the worse it gets, or would get, only that I have avoided
one and all.of the fair sex like poison, and am accordingly
dubbed a woman-hater. ;

 
  
   
 
 
  
    
  
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
 
  
   
 
 
       

to think that all these years I never guessed. it, but: supposed

42 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

H. My poor old fellow! is that the way the land lays? and

you as truly indifferent to womankind as myself! Well, well!
and now you are caught in the toils, in good earnest. You
may as well make a clean breast of it. “Who and what is she?
I will prove myself as good a friend as is possible, and help
you on to the best of my ability; only command me, and you
will see. Why, Pll go in and spark her myself if necessary—
do the Miles Standish sort of business. Now, don’t look so
alarmed; I verily believe that prospect frightens you more
than the thought of doing your own courting. Never mind;
1 promise not to cut you out, but will do my level best in
your behalf, notwithstanding I am a sworn bachelor and wo-
man-hater.

W. Well, here goes. It’s Miss Dover. (Haun gives @
ahistle.) Of course you're astonished, and that makes it all
the worse. Here a young lady comes to town, pretty, attrac-
tive, reputed well off, and I have the audacity to fall in love
with her—hopelessly, desperately smitten. Even if I could

 

screw up courage to address her, she’d think I was after her
money, for haven’t I always avoided women like a pestilence?
And now, I have actually fallen so.low as to follow her around
town; to attend the church where she goes, that I may gaze
on her and worship at a distance. 1 know she has noticed it,
and must put the worst possible construction on my proceed-
ings. - Hale, you really must help me. Give me a lift and Tl
be eternally grateful, You have an acquaintance with her,
haven't you? Bring my name around, somehow—tell her I’m
naturally bashful, but very susceptible—. If here doesn’t come
that contemptible Brass! How I do despise that man! He's
everlastingly running down women, an ae forever ogling
the girls, particularly if they’re pretty and have money. If
he gets his eyes on Miss Dover it is all up with me, for the
scamp can make himself attractive.

H. Never mind; we won't let him, in this case. Keep up
to spirits, Week, and V’ll bring you through all right.

‘aint heart ne’er won fair lady, you know; and as for Brass,
we'll annihilate him if he dares approach her.

(Zinter BRAss.)

Brass. Ho, good-morning, gentlemen! What are you so
earnestly confabing about? Gossip, I'll be bound. The men
can almost equal the weaker sex in their love of a tidbit of
scandal, served up with all the relishes. What's it all about?

H. Oh, nothing that would interest you, Brass—only dis-
cussing the pro’s and con’s of peeandny.

Matrimony? You can’t either of you be such fools as
tobe contemplating such astep? Matrimony! Suicide, you
mean. Tie yourself to a woman’s apron string, and you're

   

 

 
 

. WOOING BY ‘PROXY. %3
nd | mauled and hauled around till your life's more than a bur-
sed den. Imagine it—a miserable whining, complaining wo-
i! mnan at your side, and a half dozen squalling brats at your
ou | heels! “Oh, you needn't look so. skeptical —they’re . all
e? alike. Sweet as ‘sugar, dear little things, before the cere-
Ip Mony—more angels than mortals, confiding, innocent’ dar-
OW lings; but, the minute the fatal words are spoken, presto,
> change! and you find yourself in the leading strings with a
aS vengeance. No matrimony for me, please, unless the amount
i: - tin sufficiently balances all the disagreeables and draw-
me jacks, ae
si H. You put me in mind of a henpecked husband, Brass—
e quite as though you’d been through the mill. For all we

know to the contrary, perhaps you have a fair Katherine in
some sequestered hamlet, awaiting your return home with out-
stretched arms—and a poker in her hand?

B. (Laughing constrainedly.) Oh, no; not at all; only
speaking from general principles. By-the-by, who is the
Miss Dover of whom | hear so many speaking? I understand
she’s wealthy. Do you know where she hails from, or any-
thing‘about her?

HH. (Wudging Wrxx to keep quiet.) Yes, certainly; I have
a slight acquaintance with her. Wealthy, very, but slightly
eccentric—a ‘terrible temper and all that sort of thing; but
then; the money covers up such little deficiencies, you know.

B. Certainly, certainly! So you really cnow her, Hale?
Think you could get me an introduction? Now, as a little
matter of confidence, gentlemen, I’ll tell you, I’m in an awful
tight place, and I’ve about made up my mind to marry ee
money. Hard lines, matrimony; almost rather. be shot; but
T’ve got to raise some funds, some way. And you say she
has a terrible temper? T’ll fix that, once I have possession of
the pocketbook. Well, I’m off. Shall expect you to intro-
duce me as svon as possible. Ta-ta, gentlemen! (Hixit.)

W. Hale, you ought to have your everlasting neck wrung!
Now that fellow will cut me out surer than fate. And he’s a
scamp of the first water! Marry Miss Dover for her money!
Til murder him first!) What did you tell him she had a tem-
2 for? I can’t believe a word of it. Hale, you’ve gone

aft,

H. Ha-ha-ha! I thought I’d die to sec the ferocious aspect
of your countenance. Didn’t know but you'd pounce on him
and eat him up in’ spite of me. It’s all right, my dear boy,
and unless I’m mistaken we'll have a grand denowement, 1
know Miss Dover wel/, and she’s just the girl to help me carry
out my little scheme, and punish Brass for his confounded
selfishness ‘and audacity. {t won’t hurt your cause a bit,
Week; and you mustn't lose courage at the onset... Come
along; I’m guing up-town now, and will take you alongand

 

 

 

 
   

74 THE DIME DIALOGUES,

 

introduce you to Miss Dover; then I'll take her to one side
and whisper of respectful worship at a distance, eternal but
speechiess devotion, and all that sort of thing, while you in-
dite a sonnet to her eyebrow. Come along!

(Hatt, pulling WEEK after him. Curtain falls.)

 
 
 

 
 
 
  

 

 
 

ScenE IT.—A parlor. Miss Dover and Miss Martin, seated.

Miss Dover. The poor dearfellow! I wonder if he'll ever
screw up sufficient courage to come to the point? It is
most laughable, and yet I’m so sorry for him. I'd help him
on if it wasn’t unwomanly, and do the proposing myself.. He
is such a aT straight-forward, noble fellow in every way,
only he is so-bashful. And Harry Hale says he really wor-
ships the very ground I walk on; and to think of the way he
hauls poor Harry around, and makes him do his courting for
him. [ve laughed till I cried just thinking of it.

Miss Martin. He will make a gocd husband no doubt,
Nellie, and one to be trusted. Think of my experience, dear,
and thank Heaven for a true, kind, devoted man. You know
my sad history—deserted at the very altar, by a wretch who
would have marricd me for my supposed fortune. But you
co not know that I had jilted a true man—one of nature’s no-
blemen, for this villain, and the man whom | so wronged was
no other than your friend: Harry Hale.

Miss D. Can it be possible, Minnie! I always knew he had
been deceived by some girl, which made him forswear matri-
nony. But, that you should be the one! It passes belief.
Minnie, he’s true to your memory; I’m sure of it! And could
he but meet you, all would yet be well.

Miss M. Oh, Nellie, he would be more than human to for-
give me! But-that is why I tell you—warn you—not to laugh
at the affection of one whom you know is earnest and true for
another who possibly—

Miss D. You refer to Mr. Brass. Strange, that you should
have taken such an aversion to him, without ever seeing him.

Miss M.. Your description of him reminds me of my mis-
taken choice, Nellie, dear; and although 1 know you to be
but flirting, I can’t help but wish you wouldn’t play with
fire.

Miss D. Don’t fret, Minnie; it’s all on the programme,
and Mr. Hale knows: about it and countenances it, so now I
know you'll not object. I have read Mr, Brass thoroughly—
know him to be a miserable fortune-hunter, and such a man
is deserving of no respect or consideration, 1 will lead him
on if only to punish him. Let him propose, if he will! Mr.
Hale told him [ had an awful temper—what a joke! It will
add to the fun, and I wish you could be in at the death!

   
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

   
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 

 

  

 

 
 

—EE a

WOOING BY PROXY. 7S

Miss M. Don’t carry your joke too far, my dear; it might
| Yeflect on yourself; but, above all, make up your mind in
_ regard to Mr. Week and don’t worry the poor man into his

rave.

f Miss D. Make up my mind! Isit possible you’re such a
oose Minnie as not to see that my mind is already made up?
f I can only cure him of his bashfulness, and that dreadful

trick of blushing. (Knock at the door. Miss Dover opens it

and Mr. WEEK and Mr. HALE enter, Miss Martin hastily
leaves room, by other door.) Why! ‘“‘speak of angels,” etc.

How do you do, Harry and Mr. Week? (Shakes hands with

them. Mr. WEEK shows everg sign of embarrassment. Sits

down on his hat ; rises, twirls his thumbs, and acts generally con-

Sused.)

HH. A lovely morning. We were out for a stroll, and
thought we would step in for a few minutes, especially as
Week has a little matter of business he would like to talk over
with you, and it occurred to us that this would be as good a
time ‘as any. (Mr. WEEK: blushes, starts to say something,
stammers, and stops in confusion.)

Miss D. (Mischievously.) I trust it is nothing very serious,
Mr. Week? You look so grave, you half alarm me.

W. (With a great effort.) Not—not at all, Miss Dover. I
—that is we—I mean—I came to say that—confound it!
(Sinks back in chair and groans.) I can’t say it. Hale, you
know what I mean. Do explain to Miss Dover!

Miss D. (Looking from one to the other in pretended amaze-
ment.) Why, really, gentlemen, this is getting alarming!
What can be the matter?

H. Miss Dover, you cannot fail to be aware that you area
porns lady of many attractions—beauty, youth, and amia-

ility, which could not fail to find favor in the eyes of the
sterner sex. Consequently you are much admired—how much

I need not dwell upon, even your humble servant having fal-

len a victim—

Miss D. (Laug*ing.) 1s that meant for a proposal?

W. (Starting up.) Now Hale, that’s not fair. What do
you mean taking advantage of mein thismanner? He doesn’t
mean what he says, Miss Dover. He means—he wants you to
see—he—I—that is—(Looks appealingly at Hate.) Do bea
good fellow, and help me out, Hale!

H. Allow me to finish my sentence—even your humble
servant having fallen a victim to your charms to such an ex-
tent that, were he not a sworn bachelor there’s no knowing
what the consequences might have been. As it is, I forego
any aspiration I might have had—waive all personal considera-
tions in favor of my friend Week, who wishes, through me,
to offer himself as a suitor for your hand and heart—

Miss D. Are you really in earnest, Mr. Hale? (Zooks at
Mr. WExEx who tries to speak, but fails.)

 
  

 
 
  
    
 
 
   
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
    
   
   

 

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

i. But who, through a little natural timidity and lack of
confidence fecls unable to express himself as he would wish.
He is a man of sterling merits, Miss Dover. (WEEK makes a
motion of dissent.) And, although he feels it a great boldness
on his part to aspire to the affections of one so far above him
in all the cardinal virtues, yet he could not but make an ef-
fort, and asks you to at least consider, before you give your
final answer. (A noise heard outside. WEEK glances through
the window then starts up with an exclamation.)

H. and Miss D. What 2s the matter?

W.. Oh, that confounded Brass! Now it’s all up with me!
I knew it—I felt it all along! And here he comes, with a
bouquet as large as a cabbage to cut me out. I wish I were
dead—I do indeed, Hale! (Knock at dvor.) Yes, here he is,
and now I’m dished.
aeceen D. (Asitde.) While there’s life there’s hope, Mr.

eek! z

W. (Suddenly, and with the energy of despair.) Did I hear
aright? Did you speak those words of comfort, Miss Dover?

And may I really hope? (Rushes across the room and takes her ~

hand.) One little word to relieve my suspense—

Miss D. There is no time now,.Mr. Week, or the little
word ‘‘ Yes” might have the desired effect; and now, will
you not step into the next room, end leave the door ajar that
you may hear the conversation that takes place between me
and Mr. Brass? This seems strange to you, but I have an
object in view which perhaps Mr. Hale can explain to you—
that you may comprehend any apparent inconsistency between
what I have just said to you, end my reception to Mr. Brass.
(Knock repeated ; gentlemen retire to next room ; Miss Dover
opens door ; BRASS enters.)

Miss D. (Coquettishly.) Good-morning, Mr. Brass! I’m so

delighted to see youj

B. (Presenting her with bouquet, and pressing her hand.)
And may I venture to present this little token of my esteem?
Miss Dover, Nellie, star of my existence, light of my eyes,
beloved one, behold in me your passionate adorer! (Sinks on
his knees.) Speak, sweet one! Tell me not to utterly despair.
But no, I will not!. Your eyes, your voice, your manner, at
our last meeting all bade me hope. (Head of WEEK appears
at door and he glares at Brass whose back is turned. Miss Do-
VER motions him away.)

B. Oh, my darling, turn not your head away! Give me
some little token that your heart is not totally irresponsive to
the passionate outpourings of mine. If there is but the slight-
est hope, raise your eyes to mine, dearest! (M1ss Dover raises
her eyes.) Ah! itisso! Yes, 1 knew it must be. Such love
as mine could not fail to elicit a response. (Takes her hand,
which she draws away.) But do not be so timid! — Tell me that

a

   

 

 

  
  

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WOOING BY PROXY. V7

‘ou love me—that you will be mine soon. Nellie, darling,
t me set our wedding day! (WEEK appears through door,

‘again, and Haur drags him back, putting his hand over his

mouth.)

Mrss D. Our wedding-day! Well,if youso willit. (Look-
tng down as if assenting.) But, first, I will tell you a 6ad piece
of news—sad to me though of course it will not affect you.

B. Yes, dearest, coniide in me. Your sorrows are mine,
and I will help you bear them.

Miss D. You know I possessed a small fortune?

B. Possibly I may have heard it, but such knowledge
would have passed from my mind without a second thought.
Mere filthy lucre—# could not stand between us and happiness.
Let us not give ita second thought.

Miss D. Jt could not, but the oss of it might were you less
noble and disinterested than I know you to be! But I must
tell you the news by asking what you will think to be told
that my fortune has vanished—every cent, from the bank
where it was deposited! (Brass starts back and glares. at her.)
That the cashier has embezzled and absconded—the bank is
ruined! But, what is the matter, Mr. Brass?

B. (Violently.) I have been deceived—grossly, inexcusa-
bly! Why did I not know of this sooner?

Miss D. (Clasping his arm.) What difference could it make
between two true hearts—mere filthy lucre! You will love me
all the better, 1 know, now that even money is not between

ns.

B. Yllbehanged if Iwill! I’ve beendeceived,I say. But,
I won’t have it—I won’t stand it! Miss Dover. .I wish youa
7 good-morning. (Rushes toward door.) ‘

1ss D. What can you mean! Is it possible that it was
my fortune and not me you loved? (Vindietively.) But Vl
keep you'to-your word, Mr. Brass, even though I have to sue
you for breach of promise. _A proposal’s a proposal, and you
can't get out of it so easily, I-can tell you that! :

B. Stop your talk, will you? Hale told me you had a con-
founded temper, and I believe it. .1’d soon take it out of you
if you were my property / What do you suppose I wanted, if
it wasn’t your money? You knew I wasn’t a marrying man.
Breach of promise, indeed! You'd better try it on! here
are your witnesses? I'd like to choke you for fooling me in
this manner. (Advances threateningly toward her.)

W. (Rushing in, followed by Haw.) Hold, you scoundrel,
ou! Here are the witnesses! Touch her at your peril, for
ll break every bone in your body. (Maes a dive at him but

Miss Dover stops him.)
B. earner) So! the plot thickens! Let me con-
tulate you, Miss Dover, on so able a coadjutor! And
ale, too! You helped get me into this mess, and purposely,
too, Vil be bound. (Mr. Hare advances.)

 
   

78 THE DIME DIALOGUES,

Miss D. No; do not condescend to touch him. Such &
contemptible villain is beneath your notice. Mr. Brass, the
tablesare turned. Yow, not I, are the victim. You sought
to entrap me, but, thanks to a timely hint, and my own intui-
tion, I have taken the course I did. This gentleman (turning
to WeExK) is my promised husband, to whom the loss of my
fortune would prove but a very small matter, I don’t doubt.
(Wenk hastens to her side and clasps her hand.) But to whom
i will now tell what I neglected to inform you of, namely,
that my fortune, what there is of it, has merely becn trans-

ferred from one bank to another, the exchange taking place |

before the embezzlement of which I spoke. ake my advice,
Mr. Brass, and let this be a lesson to you. It may have been
your first venture of the kind. If so, let it be the last; let
shame and your conscience come to your rescue— (Miss Mar-
TIN advances into the room. Both WauE and Brass fall back in
emazement and exclaim ‘‘ MINNYE.”’)

Miss M. No, it is not his first! Behold, in your suitor,

Miss Dover, my guvondam aftianced—Brandon his name then. _

Go! I am sure there is not one here present who even cares to
look upon your detested face again. (Brass slinks toward the
door.

H. Yes, clear out! The quicker the better. Show your
face in town again and you shall be kicked out. Only respect
for the feelings of these ladies, prevents my trying my foot at
it now. (Goes toward Brass, who snaiches up his hat and
rushes out of the door, Haun then turns toward Miss Martin.)
Minnie, how inexpressibly glad I am to see you! My feel-
ings for you have never wavered in the slightest degree.
Shall we let bygones be bygones, and start in afresh, with
this happy couple? (Looking toward WEEK and Miss DOVER.
Miss MARTIN gives him her hand.)

Miss D. Ah, I’m so happy! Minnie dear, you have my
best wishes,

W. And how about the sworn bachelordom, Hale?

H. And how about that little difficulty of bashfulness

which was troubling you a short time since, Week?

' _W. Vanished in smoke, which I wish I could say of that
Brass, although I’m too happy to care what becomes of him.

W. And now, let us proceed te prove what excellent hus-
bands old bachelors, sworn woman-botcrs, can make!

(Curtain fils.)

 

|

  

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

LEARNING FROM EVM. 7

LEARNING FROM EVIL.
FOR FIVE BOYS.
Scenz I.—Three of the boys standing in a group talking.

Henry. He gets worse every day. This very day he as
much as hinted at sending a note to my father if I didn’t im-
prove in my conduct.

James. I don’t believe there isacrosser teacher in the
State of New York. Let’s think up some good plot to plague
him. 1 propose we take the tongue of the bell out. Whenho
goes to ring it he will raise a row. What fun!

Aut. Yes! Splendid! All right.

(Zinter CHARLEY.)

H. Halloa, Charley! We have just becn talking over a joke
to play on old Wilson. He will be wrathy, Come here and
Tl tell you about it. ,

CuarLtey. Why do you wish toannoy him? If you would
only avoid teasing him so much, and try to respect him, I am
sure you would find him a much more pleasant teacher than
you seem to think he is. Heis always kindtome. Try my
plan and see. ;

J. Hearthe minister! I don’t propose to have all our fun
spoiled.

H. NorI. We'll teach the Old Grampus that boys can do
some things well. Ill saw the leg off his chair, Jim, while you
fix the bell, and if Al will put pepper on the stove just at the
right time when the bell won’t ring and the chair breaks down, '
we'll have the jolliest circus you ever saw. Hurrah for fun!
We haven't had any since Jim Bennet went away. Jim was
a perfect brick, and Old Wilson did a mean thing in sending
him away. ;

C. Jim Bennet was a young rough, ill-bred and nota fit
associate for any respectable boy. Mr. Wilson did just right
in sending himaway, As to your proposed fun, what will the
consequences be? You'll disgrace yourselves, anger Mr. Wil-

son and hurt the school,

J. Bah! who cares, so long as wehave thefun? Oh, won't

~ it be nee jinks when the time comes!
H.

ou bet it will! And if Charley blows on us we'll
make him rue it. (Shakes fist at CHARLEY.)

C. Oh, Pm not concerned about that. What is right T'll
do, and I tell you now that your fwn, as you call it, is a sneak-
ing, cowardly way of doing a meanthing. So just stop where
youare. Mr. Wilson, you know, is doing his best to make
you learn, and for you fellows to hector him is just as con-
temptible as to play pranks on your own father.

J. Oh, you're cnt out for a first class missionary—you are!
You haven't got a bit of fun or spunk about you. “ Go ahead,
Henry! Are you with us, Al?

 

 
 

 

80 THE: DIME- DIALOGUES.

A. No, I’m not! I think as Charley does—it is a mean
thing to worry and annoy the teacher, and I'll not goin for

our fun. Besides, we can doa good deal better and have
lots of sport.

H. In what way?

A, Why! by doing just the right thing every time.

J. Oh, you're another preacher! Come, Hen, we'll go and
stir up the other boys who ain’t quite so weak in the knees as
these Miss Nancys.

(As they are going enter Ep.)

Ep. Isay, boys, Mr. Wilson is hurt. That Jim Bennet he
turned out of school the other day for cursing and swearing,
fixed a wire across the path and. it threw Mr. Wilson down
and hurt him-bad, I guess, for he can't get. up, and Jim Bennet
is laughing and dancing around, worrying the teacher. What
shall we do? It’s just outrageous, I think.

C. What do you say, Henry and James? Are you, like
ruffian Jim Bennet, pleased at such an act?

H. Not much, Lain’t! Jim’s a loafer, I say.

J. Solsay. Let's gofor him! All of us togther can give
him a terrible licking. :

C. Which he richly deserves. I’m with you, boys, in this
Sun, as you probably call it.

A. AndI,. It’s brutal to hurt so good a man as Mr. Wil-
son. (Hxeunt C. A, J. and H.)

Ep. That Jim Bennet is awful. He’s put the boys up to
all sorts of mean things, and Hen and Jim were his cronies, so
I am surprised that they should go for him now. If this act
of his shows them what a bad boy he is it will be a good thing
after all, if Mr. Wilson is not seriously hurt. It will be too
bad if he is really injured.

(Re-enter HENRY and JAMES.)

H. Itell you Charley is a terrible fellow. Why, who'd
thought there was so much muscle and spunk in him? With-
out stopping, he just called out for us to help Mr. Wilson and
then sailed into Jim Bennet, who is a good deal bigger than ke,
and gave himamost awful thrashing. . Why, 1 believe he
would have killed him if Mr. Wilson, when he got on his feet,
hadn’t commanded him to hold on. But, Charley made the
young bully himself apologize to the teacher, and Jim sneaked
off like a whipped hound. v

J. Oh, I tell you Charley’s head is level!. We called him
and Al Miss Nancys, but it shows how mistaken we were.
He’s the boy for me. e

Ep. Not more mistaken there than you were in bein
cronies of Jim, when he was here. . You see, now, what a ba
boy he is. Ido hope Mr. Wilson isn’t badly iniured.

FH. I guess it is only a bad shock to him. His arm is burt
‘and his knee, but he says he'll be all right to-morrow,’ and

 

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THE TEACHER'S RUSE, 81

asked James and me, a3 Charley had to help him home, to
- come here and see that every thing was right.

Ep. And you'll do so, won’t you?

H. We'll do our best to show him that Jim Bennet isn’t our
patron. This day has cured me of him. And opened my eyes
to the evil of a bad example. I’mdone with such chaps and
with Charley and Al I'll do my best to make the school pleas-
ant to the teacher and profitable to ourselves.

J. Here is my hand on that, Hen!

Ep. And minetoo. (They all clasp hands and curtain faiis.)

THE TEACHER’S RUSE; OR, WHO WON THE PRIZE.
FOR TEN BOYS AND THREE GIRLS.

(Eight boys walk along with school-books—some in arms—some
thrown over their backs and held by straps.)

Ep. Say, boys, what do you think of the new prize idea
that Mr. Leonard has taken into his head?

Jack. I think it’s a very good idea. I believe as he says
that we boys are just of an age when we are inelined to be
rough. We really ought to be kind to the poor, polite to
ladies, and gentle to the aged and infirm. And—

Dick. (Laughing.) Pretty good for Jack! What's it all
about, anyhow?

Wii. TH tell you. Mr, Leonard, having an idea that we
boys are a lot of young ruffians, offers a prize for the. politest
boy during this month. He believes that he will thereby make
perfect gentlemen of us all.

Jack. Anda very good idea it is, too. Ashesays, we boys

‘are just of an age when we are inclined to be rough—

Dick. Oh! never mind that. Which particular boys does
he mean?

Jack. Just the boys in our division, of course—we who
are here now, besides Frank Scoville. And as 1 was going to
ey we boys are just of an age when we are apt to be rough—

1cK. Pray don’t give us any more of that, I think you

might as well all give up. Frank Scoville will win the prize,
sure.

Jor. What! that ragamuflin!

Sam. That ignoramus!

CHARLIE. That beggar!

Jack. Not he! he don’t know enough to write a decent
composition.

Dick. What has all that to do with his being polite? The
boy is poor, true enough—he can’t help that; but he’s as gentle
as a lamb. i ilo

 

 
   
 

 

 

THE DINE DIALOGUES,

boy like him politer than any of us. Why, it would be an in-

sult to us and to our parents. Of course, we are just of an age

when are apt to be rough, but—

Dicx. 1 beg of you, Jack, to stop. I couldn't survive any

more of that, really. Now do you think that you will get the
rize?

: Jack. lLintend to try very hard for it. It is certainly

worth having.

Jor. Il'm going to try my best, too.

Sam. Soam I.

Cuarire. AndI. I must confess that it comes mighty
hard on a fellow to have to be polite to the poor. But you
must do it inthis case. Why, if I should kick over a poor wo-
man’s apple-stand, there would be some one around torun and
tell Mr. Leonard. . :

Dick. (Aside.) I should think there ought to be.

Sam. Yes, indeed, there would; and a fellow’s got to be

pretty careful. A handsome writing-desk such as master will —
give ain't to be ptcked up in the streets every day—besides, —

think of the honor it would bring! I shall be killing polite
whenever I get a chance.

Jack. Soshall1; and it’sno more than right that we should,
for as we are just of an age when we are apt to be rough—

Dick. Jack, I beg—I entreat you tostop. I can’t stand
much more, for I have already grown faint. .

Jack. (Laughing and patting Dick on the back.) My dear
fellow, you are inclined to joke; but I assure you I am in
downright earnest. I certainly think that we—

Dick. Boys, I can’t endure it a moment longer; I am off.
Good-afternoon! (Ezit.)

Jack. Well, as I was saying, boys, and as Mr. Leonard has
said, we are just of an age when we are apt to be rough. True
politeness constitutes—constitutes—constitutes—

Jor. Stuck, eh, Jack? Well, I don’t know as it will make
much difference what it constitutes—that is, to the fellow that
gets the prize. ’

Sam. No, I guess not.

(Enter Frank Scoviiue.)
Here comes Frank. Maybe he can tell us.

Frank. Tell you what, Sam?

Wit. Who'll get the prize. Have you any idea?

Frank. The one who most deserves it, I hope.

CnHarim. Of course; but whois that? You?

Frank. I don’t expect it, Charlie.

Ep. I say, here comes. Mr. Leonard's daughter with a
eae traveling bag. There’s a chance for some fellow to be
polite.

JACK. (Quickiy.) I'll take the chance.

Jack, Pshaw! Mr. Leonard wouldn't think of counting 4

 

 

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THE TEACHER'S RUSH, 83

Wir. No, I'll take it.

Jox. Let me.

‘Sam. Indeed, J mean to.

Ep. None of you need trouble yourselves. I saw her first,
and I will take the honor. (Pushing the boys back.) Stand out
of the way, will you?

(Enter nicely-dressed young lady carrying a large bag.)

Aun. (Rushing forward and taking off hats to lady.) Won't
you allow me to carry your bag?

Lapy. Well, really, boys, lam much obliged to each of
a But I won’t trouble you to-day, for although the bag

ooks heavy, it is certainly very light, as it contains nothing. -
(Aside.) I wonder what struck them? They were never so
polite to me before. (#xit Lapy.)

Wu. We didn’t make much there, after all.

Jack. Yes, we did. We did our best, I am sure; and
haven’t th> bother of carrying the bag either. Besides, Miss
Leonard will tell her father how polite we were to her.

(Enter pretty little girl, crying.)

Ep. (Stooping down and putting his arms around her.)
What’s the matter, Lulu?

Wu. (Doing the same.) Are you lost, Lulu? If you are,
Ill take you home.

Jor. (Also endeavoring to embrace the little girl.) Did any
one hit you? because if they did, I'll make them sorry for it.

Jack, Sam and CHarure. (Struggling to get near Luue,)
So will I.

Ep. Won't you tell me what is the matter, Lulu?

Lunv. (Still sobbing.) I's—i’s want—want a jumpin’-jack.

Ep. And you shall have one. (Zakes a cent out of his
pocket and gives tt to her.) ‘There! now you can buy one.

Luiv. Thank you.

Jack. (Taking a cent from his pocket-book.) Tere’s another,
You can get a two-cent jumping-jack.

Win. (Also giving her one.) No, it shall be athree-cent jack.

Jor. (Doing the same.) 1 say a four-cent jumping-jack.

Sam and Cuaruin. (Hach handing her a cent.) And 1 say
a five-cent one. :

Ep. That will make it a six-cent jumping-jack, I believe.

Luv. (Looking delighted.) Thank you ali, Exit.

7 Frank. (Aside.) The boys are overdoing the matter, I be-
ieve.

Jack. Here comes Mrs. Leonard's washerwoman, with a
heavy basket of clothes. Now that’s a good chance to be
polite; but [hardly like to been seen going through the vil-

lage—
Winx. Don't you? Qh! I wouldn’t care for that. ll
earry her basket. :
Jack Do you mean it? Then I'l] help you.

 

 
 

 

 

84 THE DIME DIALOGUES. |

Sam and Cuarute. So will I.

(Enter plainly-dressed woman, with basket of clothes on her head.)

Boys. (All together.) Allow me to carry your basket,
ma’am?

Woman. You are very kind, young gentlemen, and I
thank you everso much. But I am so used to carrying the
basket now that I don’t mind it at all. So there’s no need
of your lameing your arms with it. (Aside, as she salks
on.) T-wonder now what’s up? JI often passed those boys be-
fore, and they never thought of helping me. If I didn’t know
better, I’d believe that somebody had left me a fortune and
they’d heard of it. (Exit.)

JACK. (With a sigh of relicf.) It’s just as well.

Ep. Hello! Here comes Crazy Jim with an umbrella up,
as usual.

Wir. Is that'so? Now for some fun!

Frank. Wouldn't it be just as well to try a little politeness
with poor Crazy Jim too, instead of having fun with him?

Jon. Be polite to Aim! No, indeed! we're not going to
lose all our fun.

‘Sam. TI guess not!

Cuaruie. Who ever heard of being polite toa silly old
fellow like that? He.doesn’t come under my list.

Jack. Nor mine either.

(Enter Mr, LEonaRD dressed in an old suit of clothes and hold
ing an umbrella low over his head to hide his face.)

Sam. (Giving him a poke.) Hello, Crazy!

Jon. (Pulling umbrella.) Say, Jim, the police is after you.

Wit. (Stepping on his toes.) Tow goes it, Loon?

(The six boys form a ving around the old man and begin to tor-
ment him in various ways.)

Frank. (Breaking through the ving.) Boys, I will not stand
here any longer, and see this poor creature abused. You
ought to be ashamed of yourselves, \*

Ack. It’s mdeed coming to a. pretty pass if we're to be
dictated to by a beggar. Perhaps he thinks that Crazy Jim
will help him to win the prize?

Mr. Lronarp, (Lhrowing off old coat and umbrella.) 1
think that Crazy Jim has already helped him to win the prize.
Excuse the part that I have played, boys; but I was unable to
resist the temptation of discovering what your real ideas of
politeness were. True politeness, Jack, does not consist in
being polite only toa few poor, or weak, or aged persons,
merely for the sake of gaining a prize. It consists in being
kind and gentle at all times to every one, even to those whom

God in His wisdom has deprived of their reason. Consider
the matter well; and I believe that you vill all agree with me in
deciding that the prize for true politeness belongs to Frank
Beoville Samet 3 ae ay eS

 
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COLLOQUY OF NATIONS. 85
COLLOQUY OF NAO 3 oe LIBERTY SEEKING A
; ME

(Liserty first appears upon the stage. As each country comes
to address her, the national air of that country is played by the
orchestra or piano—t, ¢., sufficient of it to occupy the time
necessary for entering, bowing and recovering breath. If no
muste is present the omission of it will not be material.)

). Liserty. (Solus.) Long have I wandered: from land to
land seeking a home. Must Liberty, who would gladly be en-
shrined at every fireside, remain thus a restless wanderer?
Each extends to me the hand of welcome for a transient stay,
but which among them would receive me forever with heart-
felt joy? .And yet, should ali be clamorous for this right, to
which of the sister powers shall I most willingly turn?

Cuma. (Approaches. and bows with reverence.) To thee,
noble and greatly desired Goddess, am I bidden to come and
present inducements, if I may, so weighty that you will turn
your Senkaege to my far-off home. Come with me and for
your realm I will show you a kingdom vast and powerful; one
grown old these many thousand years; greater in extent than
all the homes of those who are to come to you. The number
of my countrymen is many millions. War seldom weakens
our people. Lofty walls defend our cities, and public debt is
not a burden. Many arts are ours—ours only.. Come with
me, and my kinsmen shall weave for you a robe of gold, em-
broidered with silver thread; your chariot shall be of the purest
ivory carved by the skillful Chinese, in which art we are not
surpassed. When wearied and; thirsty the tea which we raise
and prepare shall moisten. your fair lips. And now, Liberty,
look favorably upon this waiting people and give them the
blessed boon of freedom.

Lis. The attractions you offer are many and varied, but
Liberty could not endure the superstitions which have ever
held in thrall thine ancient empire.

(CaIna bows, steps back of Lisurty—at one side. Hach nation
following does the same.)

Inpra., The snow-capped ae look not down upon
a more devout nation than India. The Hindoo has many gods,
still one is wanting to snare and complete the number. The
holy Brahmins would render homage to thee, oh, Liberty!
On the banks of the sacred Ganges shall be reared a stupen-
dous and magnificent temple upon whose walls shall be dis-
played in India’s richest gems thy grace and beauty, Muslins
of rare texture, embroidered with gold and silver, shall gratify
thy taste. .The prostrate forms of a thousand devotees await
thine answer. ’

Lie. Liberty desires no temples to be reared in her honor,
nor will she share the homage -given to the gods of the Brah-

$

 
 

 

&8 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

mins, Entangled in a web of caste thy people have never yet
attained in their highest knowledge to a thought of. Liberty’s
ower.

; Russra. The most extensive and one of the most. powerful
empires of any age I offer you, oh, Liberty! One-seventh of
the territorial part of the globe—from the Arctic to the Baltic
shall your dominion extend. If perpetual summer be your
desire let your abode be in the Crimea; if the bracing air of
the North pleases you, behold St. Petersburg. Bondsmen
cannot live in Russia, but willing servants shell execute’ your
every wish. The wonderful resources of our land are sufficient
to make its internal improvements surpass those of all others
and we wait only the magic presence of Liberty to spring into
living activity. We boast not of our iron, furs and silks, but
of our czar, who though said to be uncontrolled yields to estab-
lished customs and privileges of classes, thus making the way
clear for Liberty who, we hope, will make our empire hers in
very truth and for all time.

Lrs. Though thy land possesses the attractions of every
land and clime, yet, pale daughter of the North, because of the
imperial aristocratic government must Liberty refuse thine
offerings.

GERMANY. Great and holy Goddess, Germany, once the
ruling nation of all Europe, sends her messenger to bid you
come. She could speak of her advantages, attractive and
multiplied, but greater inducements than these she presents.
Her universities, gymnasia, normal and public schools and
academies of science are unrivaled; her large public Jibraries,
museums of art and scientific collections are many and exten-
sive. But Germany would show her jewels. She points to
her children, metaphysicians, scientists, historians and poets.
Schiller, Goethe and Fichte were Germans, as were also Kep-
ler and Humboldt. Would you live ina land filled with music
like ours? Here are the conservatories of the world! Han-
del, Mozart, Mendelsshon were sons of Germany. Beethoven
there first played. Music is everywhere, but my home is the
true musician’s fatherland. It was on German soil centuries
ago Luther struggled long and well for religious freedom and
achieved it. While Germany has any heart’s blood shall she
plead in vain for Liberty?

Lis. Noble daughter of Germany, Liberty full well appre-
ciates all thou hast done for civil and religious freedom. But,
there are too many relics of old oppressions to make for me
thy land a congenial home.

ScorLanpD.
There is a land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o’er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons imparadise the night;

     

 

 

    

  
  

 

 

 

 

  

COLLOQUY OF NATIONS. 8&7

Where woman reigns! The mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,

And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.

Man’s home—the spot on earth supremely blest,

A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

To this home among the banks and braes of bonnie Scotland,
most noble Goddess, 1 invite you, and may the poet’s choice
be also yours.

Lis.. Thou too bringest inestimable gifts, yet much asI love
bonnie Scotland, her highland air reminds me too painfully of
the independence she has lost.

Spar. If the heather of Scotland and the learning of Ger-
many do not entice thee, oh, Goddess, what shall Spain say?
Four centuries ago I exhausted my resources for navigation,
and sacrificed many of my bravest. sons in the effort to dis-
cover a new world. Gladly my queen gave her jewels to fur-
ther the opening of a new continent. .Thine abode shall out-
rival the former grandeur of my far-famed Alhambra. . Thou
shalt gather at thy court the wise of all lands. Spain, through
love and gratitude, shall cast at. thy feet. the most precious
treasures of her land. Only thy presence is needed to make
the happiness of Spain complete.

Lis. Your land, favored in many respects, has long been
under despotic rule, and has witnessed too much of bloodshed.
Liberty cannot find there a happy home,

France. For thee, oh, Liberty, France has sacrificed many
of her bravest sons. Proud is she of her famous institutions,
her republican form of government and the freedom of her
press. To thee will she bring the unexcelled products of her
industry, if thou wilt confer on her the honor of being thy
choice. In rendering the arts and sciences available to the
common concerns of life France has surpassed all other nations.
Not a single idea or principle of civilization has been univer-
sally extended without having first. passed through France.
Remain with us, fair Goddess, and earnestly will we seck to
make a home worthy of Liberty.

Lis. You present brilliant inducements; you have accom-
plished much. Still too well do | remember the dying word:
of one of your fairest daughters: ‘‘Oh, Liberty! How many
crimes are committed in thy name!”

IRELAND. To thee, oh, Liberty, friend of the helpless and
oppressed, stricken Ireland presents her claims, Her. offer-
ings are small, but freely made. The, poets lay before thee
the gems of native wit. She invites thee to the Emerald Isle,
whose hills and dales and beautiful Jakes are themes of poctic
song. Ireland enéreats thee, oh, Liberty, to come to her again!

Restore to her the times of peace and plenty when her people
were the best. Once her colleges were thronged with the

 

 
 
 

 

 

88 THE DIME DIALOGUES.

youth of all lands. The iron heel of the conqueror, has trod-
den her into the dust and the voice of oppression forbids her
to rise. She has great need of thee, Goddess of strength and
prosperity: Long and valiantly has she fought for her free-
dom. The life of many a patriot has been given for thy cause.
Come and abide with her and shower upon her the blessings
that shall make her a free and happy people.

Lrs. By Erin’s entreaty my heart is deeply moved. Would
I could dwell with thee, oppressed daughter, and lighten thy
heavy load, but the bonds of both church and state which bind
thee must be broken before Liberty can enter thine island
home.

Iraty. No country combines so many attractions as Italy.
The paths of the statesman, the ‘scholar, the artist, and the
Christian pilgrim all meet upon her soil. Europe has but one
Saint Peter’s, but one Vatican! Her classic relics, muscum
of arts, architectural magnificence and lavish display of natural
beauty serve to combine the highest type of the natural with
the best productions of the ingenious mind. She now claims
your benign presence to speed her on her new career of disen-
thrallment and glory. Possessed of your presence Italy may
combine the memories of past splendor with the realized free-
dom and progress of the present.

Lis. Not unappfeciated, fair Italy, is thy sunny clime, thy
noble works of art and thy long tine of illustrious men. Once
I sought to claim thy nation for mine own, but thy fickle sons
turned against me and Liberty, once spurned, is reluctant to re-
turn.

America. America represents the present, the living age,
with all its richness of thought, grandeur of action, resistle:s
impulse for progress. Her soil has been twice covered with
patriot slain—the price of freedom. Through her free institu-
tions access to the highest honor is open toall worthy citizens.
Virtue, joined with knowledge, forms the basis of American
nobility. Her free soil is incumbered by no feudal system,
nor crowded by famished tenants. Labor receives just com-
pensation and is elevated to its true dignity. These combined
conditions have favored the development of mind. Therecsult
has been rapid advance in practical invention, which has paved
the way for royal progress of elaborate art. America spurns
the restriction of a national church; acknowledges no subservi-
ence to the divine right of kings, bows beneath no yoke of op-
pression. She submits to one power, one Supreme Being whose
throne is in the heavens, and the earth His footstool. Oh,
Liberty! for thee my sacrifices have been many, my present
promises are more, but future realities shall be most of all.
Grant, gracious Goddess, to crown my youthful head with th

benediction and take possession of a heart already thine.

 
trod-
ls her
1 and
free-
ause,
sings

ould
thy
ind
and
ly.

the
ne

th

 

 

COLLOQUY OF NATIONS. 89

_. Lr. America, fairest of all lands, because the purest, ro
“THEE I comME! Many of thy inducements are common with
those of other nations, but greater than these is thy noble gift

_ of perfect freedom to men of all conditions. The basis of thy

government upon the equality of all before the law secures
liberai advantages of education for the masses; the freedom of
thy religious institutions secures for thee a long-continued exis
tence as a republic distinguished for moral greatness. On thy
free soil—free from the thrall of the despot or of hierarchy,
will I dwell, without fear of expulsion or restriction in the
mission for which I come. i

America. Gracious Goddess, accept a nation’s praise! The
Stars and Stripes I now entwine protectin ly around thee, as
l raise our loyal emblem, now the. sign omtaien Liberty and
Progress!

(Throws the flag around Liservy, and kneels. Lrserry rests
one hand upon America’s head, and while the ‘* Star Spangled
Banner” is beung played, ali the nations bow through one measure
and the curtain ws slowly lowered, with crimson fires burning in
the background.)

DRESSES.

Liserty. White, skirt looped with star. Tissue vail studded
with golden stars.and tiara of stars.

AMERICA. White—single star on forehead, American flag
thrown over. one shoulder and trailing behind with trail of dress.

Cura. Full costume.

InprA. Black silk, with profusion of golden ornaments, pearls,
diamonds, ete, Tg

Russta. Black, ermine trimming.and ermine cap, muff, ete.

_  GerRMANY, Scarlet skirt, blue bodice, black velvet girdle laced
with scarlet cord. ;

Scornanp. Full Highland costume.
Span Yellow and red.

France. . Pink, with flowers.
IRELAND. Green, cic.

Iraty. Scarlet skirt, white waist, Full sleeves, black velvet
pointed bodice, ete, :

 
90 THE DIME DIALOGUES

ADDITIONAL PERSONATIONS FOR “GODDESS OF
LIBERTY,” DIALOGUES NO. 24.

PRINTING TO GODDESS OF LIBERTY.
.

Goddess of plenty, power and love,

Spirit of light from the realm above,

I come to record as with pen of flame,

Thy every act and exalt thy name;

To be thy historian; on each page

To blazon the deeds of the passing age;

To give to thy beauty unfading youth;

To garner the words of immortal truth;

To banish Ignorance; shackle Might;

To teach the lessons of Justice and Right;

To give to Science a lasting fame;

To give unto Art a living name;

To embalm, beyond touch of moldering Time,
The orator’s words and the poet's rhyme;

Of Discovery to catch the earliest breath,
From Afric’s sands to the sea of death;

To give to the scholar lessons of light;

To track the comet’s erratic flight,

And gather all things with knowledge fraught,
And twine for thee a garland of Thought.

GODDESS OF LIBERTY TO PRINTING.

Second to none, fair child, I hold,

Thy deeds inspired and manifold, 5
And no brighter glory of earth I possess,

Than is given by Pen and the Printing Press.

PRINTING TO RELIGION.

Handmaid of heaven, as touched with flame
My lips become when I speak thy name,
And send broadcast, as if sown from above,
The saving words of a God of Love;

And tell of a Christ, whose blood alone

The soul can cleanse, and for sin atone;
And the holy Bible to all lands give—

A message from heaven—to read and live,

MINING TO GODDESS OF LIBERTY.

Fair Goddess in homage before thee I bend,
Thou hope of the free, of mankind the friend,
And gladly I pour out before thy shrine,

The wealth of the earth that has long been mine;
The zron to be into varied forms wrought,

To be spun as a mystic web for thought,

 

 

‘

 
 
 

ESS OF

 

 

 

And gather rich fruits for the living God.

GODDESS OF LIBERTY.

To nerve the engine, whose fiery breast,
At distance mocks, o’er Nevada’s crest
Soars as the eagle, outspeeds the breeze,
And laughs at the cyclone troubled seas;

The coal before which Arctic breath will fade,
That muscle gives to the arms of trade,

That drives locomotive, the mill, the press,
And furnishes force for usefulness;

The gold before which all nations bow;

The diamond to glitter on beauty’s brow;

The stiver with which my mountains teem,
With sparry glint more than Aladdin’s dream;
The minerals strange to restore to health;
The countless sources of national wealth;

All these unto thee I gladly resign,

For the blessings thou giv’st as a smile divine.

GODDESS OF LIBERTY TO MINING,

Fair daughter, whose home is the inner earth,
Who was called by volcanic throes to birth,

I bid thee hail! to the starry band

Of the sisters, that guard and bless our land.

MINING TO RELIGION.

Great as the riches of earth I own,
From the frozen Nortn to the burning zone,

’ Yet each and all were accounted dross,

Save to rear and to glorify the Cross;

To jewel with rays as from heaven above;
To give to the heathen words of love; ©
To build up temple, cathedral dome,

And make for Religion a fitting home;
To sow the blessed seed upon every sod,

  
   

  
 

 

 

STAN

DARD

DIME DIALOGUES

Tor School Exhibitions and Home Entertainments,

Nos. 1 to 21 inclusive,

13 to 95 Popular Dialogues and Dramas In each book. Each volume 100

mo pages, sel post-pa.d, on reccipt of price, ten cents.

Beadle & Adams, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y.

 

These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions,
being oe to schools and parlors with or without the furniture «fa tiage,and suited to SCHOL+

ARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every rge, bo:

th male and female. It is fair to assume that no

 

other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas

of wit, pathos, humor aud sentiment.

DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 1.

Meeting ofthe Muses, For nine young ladies.
Baiting a Live Englishman, For tree boys,
‘Tasso’ Coronation. For male and female,
Fashion. For two Indies.

The Rehearsal. For six boys.

Which will you Choose! For two boys.

The Queenof May, For two little girls,

The Tea-Party. For four Iadies.

Three Scenes in Wedded Life, Maleand female.
Mrs. Sniffles’ Contession. For male and female.
The Mission of the Spirits. Five young ladies,

jHobnobbing. For five speakers,

‘The Secret of Success. For three speakers,

Young America. ‘Three males and two females,
Josephine’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 Man. Fortwo males,

The Year’s Reckoning. 12 females and 1 mala
|The Village with One Gentleman. For eight fee
males sud oe male.

DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 2.

The Genins of Liberty. 2 males and 1 female,

Cinderellag or, The Little Glass Slipper.

Doing Good and Saying Bad, Several characters.

The Golden Rule. Two males and two females,

ne Gift of the Fairy Queen. Several females.

Taken in and Dine For. For two characters,

The Contry Aunt’s Vis.t to the City. For sev-
eral characters,

The Two Romans. For two males,

Trying the Characters. For three males.

The Happy Family. For several ‘ani uals?

The Rainbow. For several elaracters,

   

  

     

How to Write ‘ Popular’ Stories. Two males,
The New and the Old. For two males,

A Sensation at Last. For two niales,

‘The Greenhorn, For two males,

The Three Men of Science. For four males
The Old Lady’s Will. For four males.

The Litt!e Phil sophers. For two little girla,
How to Find an Heir. For five wales.

The Virtues. For six young ladies.

A Connubial Eclogues

The Public meeting. Five males and one female,
The English Traveler, For two males,

DIME DIALOGUES, NO, 3,

‘Tho May Queen, For an entire school.

Dress Refirm Convention, For ten females.
Keeping Bad Company. A Fares, For five males
Courting Under Difficulties, 2 inales, 1 female.
National Representatives, A Burlesque, 4 males.
Escaping the Draft. Vor numerous mules,

 

The Genteel Cook. For two males.
Masterpiece. For two males and two females,
The Two Romans, For two males.

The Same. Secondscene. Fortwo males.
Showing the White Feather. 4 males, 1 femrle,
The Battle Call, A Recitative, For one mule,

DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 4,

The Frost King. For ten or more persons.
Starting in Life. Vhree males and two females.
Faith, Hope and Charity. For three little girls.
Darby and Joxn, For two males and one fema
The May. A Floral Fancy. For six litt'e girls.
The Enchanted Princess. 2 males,several females
Honor to Whom Honor is Due, 7 males, 1 female
The Gentle Client. Forseveral males, one female
Phrenology. A Discussion. For twenty males.

DIME DIALO
‘The Three Guesses, For school or parlor.
Sentiment. A‘ Three Person,” Fa ce.
Behind the Curtain. For males and females,
The Eta Pi Society. Five boys and a teacher.
Examination Day. Forseveral female characte
Trading in “ Traps ” Forsevaral males,
The School Boys’ Tribunal. For ten boys.
A Loose Tongue. Severnl males and females,
Hw Not to Get an Answer. For two females.

  

 

 

 

The Stubb’etown Volunteer, 2 males, 1 female.
ene from “ Paul Pry.’?. For.tour males.

ve Charms. For three males and one female,
Bee, Clock and Broom. For three little girla,
The Right Way. AColloquy. For two Loys.
What the Ledger Says. For two males.

The Crimes of Dress. A Colloquy. For twobhoya,
The Reward of Benevolence. For four males.
The Letter. For two males,

GUES, NO. 5.

Putting on Airs. A Colloqny. For two males,
The Straight Mark. For several boys.

Two ideas of Life. A Colloquy. For ten girls.
Extract fromm Marino Faliero,

Ma-try-Money. An Actiog Charade.

The Six Virtues, For six 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

 
  

 

DIME DIALOGUES, NO. 6.

The Way They Kept aSecret. Male and females.
Tha Poet under Difficulties. For five males,
William Tell. For a whole school.

Woman's Rights. SeVen females and two males.
All is not Gold that Glitters, Male and fewales.
Tho Generous Jew. Forsix mies,

Shopping. For three males a1 one female.

The Two Counselors, For three males.

The Votnries of Folly. For a number of females.
Annt Betsy’s Beaux. Four females and two mrieg
The Libel Suit. For two feinales and one male.
Santa Claus, Fora number of bovs.

hristmas Falries. For several little girls,

The Thrve Der two wales,

 

 

The ills of
Troe prid
The we

The fair:
The ent
The bae
The git
The fov
Slow b
Candle
The fy
The

 

N
a
3

‘
 
  

 

 

 

 

je two baggars. For fourteen females.

he earti-ehild in fairy-laud. _ For giris.
Twenty years hence. “Iwo females, one male.
The way to Windham. For two males.
Woman. A poetic pssage at words. Two doys.
The ’Ologies, A Colloquy. For two males.
How to get rid of a bore. " For several boys.
Boarding-school. ‘I'wo males and two feinales,
Plea forthe pledge. For two males,
The ills of dram-drinking. For three boys.
True pride. A colloguy. For two females,
The two lecturers. Fur numerous males,

Dime School Serics=Dialogues.
DIME DIALOGUES No. 7,

$$$

Two views of life. Colloquy. For two females
The rights of music. For two fema es.

A hopeless case. A query in verse, Twogirla,
The would-be schvol-eacher, For two males,
Come to life too svon, Kor three males.

Eight o’clock. For two little girls,

‘True dignity. A colloquy. For two boys,
Grief two expensive. for two malys.

Hamlet and the ghost. For two persons,
Little red riding hood. For two temales,

New application ofan old rule. Boys and girly
Colored cousins, “A colloquy. For two

DIME DIALOGUES No. 8.

The fairy School. For a number of girls.

The enrolling officer. Three girls and two boys.
The base ball enthusi ist. For three boys.

Phe girl of the period, For three girls.

The fowl rebellion. ‘Pwo males and one female.
Slow betsure. Several males and two females.
Caudile’s velocipede. One male and one female.
The figures. For several small children.

Tie trial of Peter Sloper. For seven boys.

 

 
 

 

Getting a photograph. Males and females.
Tho.society for general ee 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 mule, one females
A hard case. For three boys.

Ghosts. For ten females and one male,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 9.

Advertising “or help. For a number of females.
America to Unglaud, greeting. For two boys.
The old and the new, Four females one male.
Choice of trades, For twelve little boys.

The lap-dog. For two feinales.

The victim, For four femaies and one male.
The duclist. Fir two boys. .

The true philosophy. For females and males.
A go.d education, “For two females.

 

 

The law of human kindness, For two feinales.
Spoiled children. For a mixed school,

Brutus and Cassius.

Coriolanus and Aufidius,

The new scholar, For a number of g'ris,

The self-made man. For three males,

‘The May queen (No. 2.) For a school.

Mrs. Lackland’s econoiny. 4 boys aud 3 girls,
Should women be given the builot? For boys.

DIM= DIALOGUES No. 10.

Mrs. Mark Twain’s shoe, One inale, one female.
The old flag. School festival. For three boys.
The court of folly. For many girls.
Great lives. For six boys and sixgirls.
Seandal. For numerous males and females.
The light of love. Vor two boys.
The flower children. For twelve givls.
The deaf uncle. For three boys.

discussion. For two boys.

The rehearsal, For a 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.
1176-1876. School festival, For two girls.
Lord: Dundreary’s Visit. 2 males and 2 femalas,
Witches in the cream. For 3 girls and 8 boys.
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. Tiree males and four females.
Jack and the beanstalk. For five eharacters.
The way to do itand not to doit. 3 females,
How to become healthy, etc. Male and female.
The only true life. For two pirls,
Classic colloquies. For two boys,

J. Gustavus Vasa and Cristiern,

IL, ‘Tamerlane aud Bajazet.

 

Fashionable dissipation. For 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. a

Ragged Dick’s lesson. "For three boys.

School charade, with tableau.

A very questionable story. For twe boys,

A salle For tht-e males,

The real geutleman. For two boys.

  

DIME DIALOGUES NO. 12.

Yankee assurance, For severa characters,
Boarders wanted. For several c!itracters,

hen I was young... For two girls. j
The most precious herituge. For two boys.
The double cure, Two males and four feinales,
The flower-garden fairies, For five little girls.
Jeminn’s novel. Three males and two females.
Beware of the widows, To. three girls

A family not to pattern after. Ten characters,

How to man-uge. An acting charede,

‘The vacation ecapade. Four noys and teacher,
Tuat nanghty boy, Three females and a male,
Mad-eup. An acting charade.

All is not gold that glitters. Acting proverb.

Sic transit gloria mundi, Acting charade.

DIME DIALOGUES NO. 18,

For three males.

 

Two o’clock in the Moran,
An indignation meeting. r several females,

Before and behind the scenes, Several charact’s.
The noblest boy. A numberof boys and teacher,
Blue Beard. A dress piece, - For girls and boys.
Not so bad as it seems. For several characters,
Acurbstone moral. For two mnlesand female,

Sense vs. sentiment. For parlorand exhibition.

  

 

 

Worth, not wealth, For four boys and a teacher.
No such word as fail. For sevetal mates.

The sleeping beauty. Fora schoo’.

Am innocent intrigue. Two males and a female,
Old Nably, the fortune-teller, For tliree girly,
Boy-talk, Forseveral little bors,

Mother isdend. For several little girls. :
A practical illustration, For two boys and girl,

   

  
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
      
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
 
  
   
    
   
 
    
   
  
  
    
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
    

      
   

Pime School Serles—Mialogues,

DIMf2 DIALOGUES, No. 29.

The wrong man, Three males an-l three females Anair castle. Fur five males and three females.

 

Afternoon culis, For two little girls.

Ned’s present. For four boys.

Jndge not. For teacher ani several scholars.
Telling dreams. For four tittle folks.

Saved by love. For two bovs.

  

City manner:
and one boy.
The silly dispute. For two girls and teacher.
Not one there! For four umle characters,
Foot-print. For numerous character .

  

id country hearis, For three girl

Mistaken identity. Two males and three femal-s.| Keepiig boarders. Two fem les and three males.
Couldn’t read English. For 3 malesaud 1 .emale.| A cure tor good. One lady and two gentlemen

A little Vesuvins. For six little giris.
“Sold.” For three boys.

The credulous wise-acre, For two males.

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 21.

A successful donation party.

Out of debt out of danger.
three females,

Little Red Riding Hood. For two children,

How sive made him propose. A duet,

The house on the hide For four females.

Evidence enougs. For two males.

Worth and wealth. For four fewales,

Waterfall. For several.

For several,

For three wales and,

 

astings’ return. For four males.
nd relia, Forseveral children.
|Too much for Aunt Matilda, For three females.
Wit against wi'e. Three females and one Liale
A sudden recovery. For three males.
The double stratagem. For four females,
Counting chickens before they were

Fox four males.

)Mark

 

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 22.

The Dark Cupid; or, the mistakes of a morning. Vitauia’s banquet. Fora number of girls,

For three gentiemeu and two ladies.

Boys wil] be boys, For two boys and one girl,

That Ne’er-do-well; or, a brother's lesson, For|A rainy dxy; or, the school-girl philosophers,

two males and two feinales.
High art; or the new mania. For two girls,
Strange adveutures, For two boys,
The king’s supper. For four girls.
A practical exeinplification, For two boys,

For three young ladies.
God is love. For a number of scholars,
The way he managed. For 2 males, 2 females,
Fandango. Various characters, white ad uiier
w.

ise.
Monsieur Thie-s in America; or, Yankee vs.|The little doctor, Fortwo tiny girls.

Frenchmen. For four boys.

Doxy’s diplomacy. 3 females and ‘incident als.’| A M

sweet revenge. For four boys.
ay day. For three little girs,

 

A Frenchman; or, the outwitted aunt, For two|Frem the sublime tothe ridiculous. For 1dma'ss

dJadivs aud one gentleman,

Hears not face. For five boys,

DIME DIALOGUES, No. 23.

Rhoda Hunt's remedy. For 3 fe »ales, 1 male.
Hans Schinidt’s recommend. For two males.
Cheery and Grumble. For two | ttle bovs.
The phantom doughnuts. For six females,
Does it pay? For six males,
Company manners and home impoliteness.
two males, two females and two children.
The glad days. For two little boys.

Unfortunate Mr. Brown. Vor 1 wale, 6 females.) Ignorance vs.

The real cost. For two girls,

 

|Pedants nll. For four fe:

A bear garden. For three males, two females,
The busy bees. For four littlegirls.
Checkmate, For numerous characters.

jSchool-time, For two little girls.
Death scene. 2 principal characters and adjuncts
For) Dross aud gold. Several obaracters, maleand fe

male.
Confound Mille. For three males, two females
ustice. For cleven males.

 

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 ladies.
Mean is no word for it. For four ladies.”
Whimsical. A number of charact’s, both sexes,
Blessed are the peacemakers, Seven young girls.

The six brave men. For stx boys.

Have you heard the news?

‘The true queen. Two young girls.

Aslizht mistake. 4 males, 1 temale, and seve
eral auxiliaries. E

Lazy and busy. Ten little fellows,

The old and young. 1 gentleman, 1 little girl.

That postal card, 3 ladies and 1 gentleman.

Mother Goose and her household. A wavsle
school fancy dress dialo,ue and travest.e.

DIME DIALOGUES, No, 25.

‘The societies of the delectables nnd les miser-
ables. For tvo ladies and two gentlemen.
What each would have. 6 little boys & teacher.
Sun hine through the clouds, For four ladies,

The friend in need. For four males.

The hours. For twelve litsle girls,

In doors and out. For five little bors.

Dingbats. For one male and four females,

‘The pound of flesh. Vor three boya.

Beware of the peddlers, 7 mixed characters.
words. For a number of boys.

Afriend. For a nuwber of littie girls,

‘The true use of wealth. Fora whole schook

Gamester. For numerous characiers.

Put yourself in his place, For two b-vs,

Little wise heads, For four little giris,

The regenerators, For five boys.

Crabtree’s wooing. Several charneters.

Integrity the basis of all success. Two males,

A crooked way made straight. One genUaman
and one lady.

How to “ break in”? young hearts. Two ladiee
and one gentleman,

(F The above books are sold by Newsd-alers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any

address, on receipt of price, 10 ents each,

BEADLE & ADAMS, PudlUskers, 05 Wiliam St, N.Y.

ai

    

 

1
‘

 

 
 

3.

g

—

 

STANDARD DIME SPEARERS=50 to 80 Pieces in Each Volume,
DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No, 1.

Young America,
Birthtay ot Washington
Plea for the Maine jaw,
Not on she battlefield,
Whe Italian straggle,
Independence,
Ourcountry,

'Yhe equality of man,
Character of the Revo’n |
The frui.s of the war,
‘The sewing-muacume,
True mandwod,
Theanystery of life,
‘The ups aud dowuay
Phe wuly gresty

Union and its results,
Our country’s future,
‘fue statesman’s labors,
True immortality,

Let the chililess weep,
Oar country’s glory,
Vuion a household,
1..lependence bell,
‘She scholar’s dignity,
Tae cycles of progress,
A mas chaut,

 

Bta y of Christianity,
The true higher law,
The one gr-at need,
‘She ship aud the bird,

DIME PATRIOTIC

America to the world,
Love of country,

Right of self-preserva-
Oar cause, [tien,
A Keatuekian’s appeal,
Kentucky steadfust,
Timidity is treason,
Thealaran,

April 15th, 1361,

The spirit of ’61,

Tue presivus heritage,

Klebeyesross on the war|P

Age bluntly considered,

Early rising,

The wasp and the bee,

Comic Gramnar, No, 1.

Tn nota single ins

A. Ward’s xdvice,

Buzfaz on Pickwick,

mneo and Juliet,
.ppiness, :

Dowty

  

 

SEC. I.
—Faults in enue’

 

tic

Early retiring and ris’g,'J. Jeboom’s oration,

A. Ward’s oration,

rue nationality,

Our natal day, |
Solferiuo,
Iutelligeuce the basis of!
{he war, [liberty
Charge of light brigade,
Alter the bactle,

The glass raiiroad,

Case of Mr. Macbeth,
Prof, on phrenology,
Annabel Lee,
Washingion’s name,

De sauder buy’s syreny

Tecurnseh’s speech,
Verritoriul expansion,
Martha Hopkins,
The bashful inw's stery
The matter-of-fact uso,
Rich and poor,

Seeing the eclipse,
Beauties of the law,
Ge-lang! git up,

The rats of lite,
Creowning glery of U.S.
Three fools,

ashington,

Oar mae inherftance,
Eulogy en Heury Ciay,|

 

 

The Trish element,

Train’s speech,

Christy’s specch,

Let me alone,

Briganl-ier General,

Gaion Sa hi
Juion Square speeches,

The Unitn, R

Our country’s call,

The story of an owk tree,

L-e-g on iny leg,

  

|Philosop ry applied,

A Datcit cure,
The weather,
Tbe heated term,

 

An old Diidad,

Pe way wise, pound fool-
Jruecleaaliness, — [ish,
dat'd'y nights enjoy’ts,
“Ina just cause,” |
No peace with oppres-|

 

 

Grent lives imperishable
The prophecy for tue y'?
Untinished probleius,
Honor to the dead,
Lumortality of patriots,
Webster's polit’) syste
Avision in the forua,
Lhe press,

Woman’s rights,

Right of the Governed,
My ladder,

sien, Woman,
A tale of 1 mouse, | Alone,
A Ulanksyiving sermon,| The rebellion of 1861,
ale cows of riches, wisuulod,

Ohio,

Oliver Hazard Perry,

Our domain,

Systems of belief,

The Indian chief,

The independent farmer

Mrs. Grammar's bull,

How the money comes,

Future of the f shious,

Loyalty to liberty,

Our country first, last,
and always,

British inflaence,

Detense of Jackson,

National hatreds,

SPEAKER, No.

History of our flag,

'T. F. Meaher’s address,

We owe to the Union,

Last speech of Stephen
A. Douglas,

Lincoln's messace,

Great Bell Roland,

The New Year and the;

King Cotton, [Uuion,}

Battle anthem,

The ends of peace,

 

 

 

    

 

DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No. 4.

OP, :
A Texan Eulogium,
How to bea firemany
The United States,
Paff's ace’t of himself,
Practical phreaology,
Beautiful,

Cabbage,

A song of woe,

Ward's trip to Richin’d,
Parody,

The mountebank,
Compound interest,

A sermon on the fect,
Old dog Jock,

The fishes’ toilet,

 

Disagreeable people,

Brian O'Linn,

DIME NATIONAL SPEAKER, No, 2,

Murder will ont,
Strive for the best,
oe rising,

Deeds of kiudnegs,
Gates of sleep,

The bugle,

eS Hoodish gem, :
Purity of the struggle,
Old ae ee
Beauriful and true,
The worm of the still,
Man and the Infinite,
Language of the Kugle,
Washington,

The Deluge.

 

 

.
Freedom the watchword
Crisis of our nation,
Duty of Christiun pas
triots,
Turkoy Dan’s oration,
A fearless plea,
The onus of slavery,
A foreigner’s tribute,
The little Zouave,
Catholic cathedral,

The “ Speculators?

  

Political stump speech,
Comic Gradimke No. 2%
Farewell to the bottle,
The cork leg,

The smack ii school,
Slick’s definition of wifey
Tale of a hat,

The debating club,

A Dutch sermon,

hatisa bachelor like?) Crockett to otfice-seekers| Leetnre on loeomotton,

Fauny folks, | Who is my opponent?

DIME ELOCUTIONIST, No. 5.

Mrs.Caudlo oy Umbr'la

 

ms op True Evuvcration.

3 how te wyuid then,

 

Special rales and observations,

Il. Tas Anr oF
+ of the Passions.

 

ness, Mirth,Raillery, Buffoonery, Jy, D.
Gravity, Inquiry, Attention, Modesty,

lexity, Pity, » Grief,
Pose “Shame. "
Pride, Ovstinacy, Au

Forbidding, Affirming, Denying,

Ovatory.—Sheridan’s
Tranquillity, C i

   
  

Melanchely, Despair,

ame, Remorse, Courage, Boasting,

thority, minanding,

Ditferen-e,

Ageveing, Exhorting, Judzing, Approving, Ace
uitting, Condemning, Teacaing, Pardoning,
rguinz, Dismissing, Refusing, Granting, De-
pendence, Veneration, Hope Desire, Love, Re-

t, Giving, Woner,
Cari

Adiniration Gratitude,

josity, Persuasion, Temp'ing, Promising,
Afoctution, Sloth, latoxicution, Anger, orc

SEC. Ill. Tue Component Eremnnrs oF ax
Oxatton.-—iulos of Composition as applied to
Words and Phrases, via,: Purity, Propriety,
Precision, As upplied to Sertences, viz.:
Tongth of Sentence,Clearness, Unity Strenuth.
Figures of Speech; the Exordiun, the Narra-
tion, the Proposition, the Coutirmatiou, the

  

 

 

Refatation, the Peroration,

EC. LY. REPRESENTATIVE Exercises wy Prose
anv Verse.—Transition; A Plea for theOxs
Fulstat?’s Sollloquy on Honor; the Burial of
Lincoln; the Cail und Response; the Bayonet
Charge; History of a Life; the Bugle; the
Bells; Byron; Macbeth and the Daggers
H; let?s’ Soliloquy 5 Old Things ; Look Ups
ward; King William Rufus; the Eve; an

Essa onto Musik; Discoveries of Galileo.

SEL. V. Onssavatioxs oF Goon Au

  

 

 

 

   

 
Dime School Series=Speakers,

 

DIME HUMOROUS SPEAKER, No. 6.

Asad si .
Astring of onions,
A tragic stury,

‘ats,
Cou: tship,
Debt,
Devils,
Dow, Jr.’s lectures,
£yo and echo,
Fasniouable women,
‘ern thistles,
Good-nature,
Gottlieb Klebeyergoss,
Sehlackemlichter’s snake
Hosea Biglow’s opinions

[How the money goes,

{Poetry rum mad,

Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of{ Right names,

July oration,
If you mean no, say no,
Jo Bows on leap year,
Lay of the henpecked,
Lot Skinner’s elegy,
[Nothing
|

 

Nothing to do,
Old Caudle’s umbrella,
Old Grimes’s son,

ha

noe,”
Parody on
daugliter,””

 

 Araby’s

Paddle your own ca-

Scicntitic lectures,

The ager,

The cockney,

The codfish,

Fate ofSergeant Thin,
he features’ quarrel]

 

strings,

 

The march to Moscow,
The mysterious guest,
The pump,

 

Thess: eret,

The shoemaker, *

The useful doctor,

‘The waterfalh,

To the bachelors’ uniag
leayue,

United States Presidents

Ee sea-serpent,

 

Hamerican yoodchuck, |Vuagaries of popping the
The harp of @ thousand

question,
What l wouidn’t be,

The last of the sarpints,, Yankee doodle Aladdia,

Ze Moskeetare,
1933,

DIME STANDARD SPEAKER, No, 7.

The world we live in,
Woman's claims,
Authors of «ur liberty,
‘The real conquerer,
The citizen’s heritage,
Italy, .

The mechanic,

Nature & Natare’s God,
The modern good, (sun,
Ossian’s address to the
Independence bell—1777

hen? power of an idea,
The beneficence of the
Suffrage, [-ea,
Dream of the revelers,

| HowCyrus laid the cable
The prettiest hand,
Paradoxical,

Little Jerry, the miller,
|The neck,

Foggy thoughts,

The ladies’ man,

John Burns, Gettysburg, | Life,

No sect in heaven,
Miss Prude’s tea-party,

Hon.J.M.Stubbs’ views
on the-situation,
Hans Schwackheimer on
woman’s suffrage,
All for » nominativn,
Old ocean, sea,
‘The sea,the sea, the open
The starbangled spanner
Stay where you belong,
Life’s what you make it,
Where’s my money ?
Speeeh from conscience,
‘an’s relation tosociety
The limits to happiness,

A boy’s philosophy,
Hoe out your row,
Six-year-old’s protest,
‘The suicidal car,
A valediction,
Popping cora,
The editor,
The same, in rhyme,
The fairy shoemaker,
What was learned,
Press on,
The horse,
The snake in the grass,
Tale of the tropics,
Bromley’s speech,
The same, second extract
Btetaptete cate

aks an scholar,
A Maiden’s psalin of life,

The idler,
The unbeliever,

Good-nature a blessing,
Sermon from hard-shell
Tail-enders, [Baptist,
The value of money,
Metdoric disquisition,
Be sure you are right,
Be of good cheer,
Crabbed folks, [shrew,
Taming s masculine
Farmers, (country,
The true greatness of our
N.England & the Union,
The unseen battle-field,
Plea for the Republic,

DIME JUVENILE

Playing ball,
Ah, why,

Live for something,
Lay of the hen-pecked,
The outside dog,

Wolf and lamb,

Lion in love,

Frogs asking for a king,
Sick lion,

Country and town mice,
Man and woman,
Home,

The Lotus plauter,
Little things,

A Baby’s soliloquy,
Repentance,

A plen for eggs,

Humbng patristism,
Night after Chri.twas,
Short les

The two lives,

‘The true scholar,
Judges not intallible,
Fanaticism,

 

Agriculture,
Ireland,

 

Music of labor,
Prussia and Austria,
Wishing,

The Blarney stone,
The student of Bonn,
The broken hou:ehold,

America,

Life’s sunset,

Human nature,

Lawyers,

Wrongsof the Indians,

fippen! in bebalfof Am.
iseries of war, [liberty

A Lay Sermon,

SPEAKER, No,
ate the raven became

A inother’s work,
The sane,

we rules,

A sheep story,

A little coraphdaaee
One good
My dream,
Rain,

I'll never use tobacco,

A mosaic,

The old bachelor,
Prayer to light,

Little Jim,

Angelina’s lament,
JolinnyShrimps on boots

Mercy,
Choice of hours,
Poor Richard’s sayings,

[another,

 

on

 

 

A mixture,
Plow for

Who killed Tom Roper,

   

[erime,
Instability of successful |What is war?

The Bible,

The purse and the sword
My country,

True moral courage,

 

Butter,

(quer,|My Deborah Lee,
The people always cou-/The race,

The pin and needie,
The modern Puritan,
Immortality of the sou,
Occupation,

Heroism and daring,

A shot at the decanter.

 

DIME STUMP SPEAKER, No. 8.

[fallacy, | Temptations of cities, -
« Right of secession” a| Broken resolutions,

There is no death,

Aces,

A fruitful discourse,

A Frenchman's dinaes,
Unjust national acqui’r
The amateur coachman,
The cold water man,

 

A dream, Permaneticy of States,
Astronomical, Liberty of speech,

‘The moon, [zens, John Thompson’s dau’r,
Duties of American citi-} House-cleaning,

The man, It is not your business,

9.

Nothing to de,
Honesty best policy,
Heaven,

Ho for the fields,
Fashidn on the brain,
On Shanghais,

A smile,

turn deserves) Casabianca,

Homeopathic soup,

Nose and eyes,

Malt, [come,
hundred years te

The madman” and his

Little sermons, razor,

Snutiles on electricity,

The two cradles,

The ocean storm.

Do thy little, doit well,

Little puss,

Base-ball, [fever.

Preseniption for spring

 

)
|

 

 
   
 
 

~

 

BDimo School ScriesSpeakers.

 

DIME SPREAD-EAGLE SPEAKER, No, 10,

Ben Buster's oration,
Hans Vou Spiegel’s 4th,
Josh Billings’s advice,
A hard-shell sermon,
The boots,

The squeezer,

Noah and the devil,

A lover’s luck,
Hifalutin Adolphus,
Digestion and Paradise,
Distinction’s disadvant-
Sinith,
Gushalina Bondibus,
A stock of notions,

 

(ages, :

Speaking for the'sheriff, }Drum-head sermors,

Daking ashweut, Schnitzerl’s philosopede,
hen and new, “ Woman’s rights,”

Josh Billings’ leeturing,! Luke Lather,

Doctor DeBlister’s aun’t| The hog,

Consignments, Jack Spratt,

Hard lives, New England.tragedy,

Dan Bryant’s speech, |The ancient bachelor,

A colored view, Jacob Whittle’s speech,

Original Maud Muller, |Jerks prognosticates,
‘obody, A word with Snovks,

Train of circumstances. |Sut Lovengood,

Good advice, A mule ride, [zers,

‘The itching palm, Josh Billings on buz

 

  

Il Trovatere,
Kissing in thi
Scandalous,
Slightly mixed,

The office-seeker,

Old buchelors,

Woman,

‘The Niam Niama,
People will talk,
Swackhamer’s ball,

Whio wouldn’t be fire’m,
Don’t depend on dadday
Music of Inbor,

The American ensign,

 

DIME DEBATER AND CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE, Xo, 11.

3.—DEBATING | SOCTETY.
Its office and usefulness,
Formation of,-
Constitution of,
y-Laws of,
Rules of government,
Local rulesof order,
Local rules of debate,
Subjects for discussion.
Il.—-HOW TO DEBATE.
Why there are few good
debaters,
Prerequisites to orator-
ical suceess,
The logic of debate,
‘The rhetoric of debate,
Maxims to observe,
The preliminary pre-
mise,
Order of argument,

The orator of the day,

The heathen Chinee,

The land we love,

Jim Bludso,

Be true to yourself,’

Ah Sin’s reply,

A plea for smiles,

The Stanislaus scien-
tific society,

Free Italy,

Italy’s alien ruler,

The curse of one man

General Assemblies, whole,
DIME EXHIBITION SPEAKER, NO.
The critical moment, |Gravelotte,
The east-and the west, |All hail!

(sid),

DIME SCHOOL SPEAKER, No. 13.

POPULAR ORATOR.
Fanny Butterfly’s bull,
Tropics uncongenial to

greatness,
Live for somneth ing,

Civil and religious Ifb-
erty,
Secord review of the

grand army,
Dishonesty of politica,
The great commoner,
Character and achieve-
ment,
“T can’t,” .
“It might have been,”

Don’t strike a man when
down,

Summary. Preliminary
IIL.--CHAIRMAN’SGUIDR| tion,
Ordinary meetings and|Permanent
assemblies, tion,
The organization, The order of business,
Order of business and) Considering reports, pa-
proceedings, ers, ekc.,
The * Question.’”” How) Ot subsidiary motions,
it can be treated, The due order of con-
The “ Question.” How} sidering questions,
to be consider d, Committees,
Rights to the floor, Objects of a committee,
Rights of a speaker as/Their powers,
aguinst the chair, How named,
Calling yeas and nays, | When not to sit,
{nterrupting a vote, Rules of order und pro-
Organization of Delib-| cedure,
erative Bodies, Cun-)How to report, —
ventions, Annual or|The comiuittee of the

organiza-

organiza-

Is therenny money in it t/ Emancipation of selence,
Are we a nation Spirit of forgiveness,
Social science Amnesty and love,
Influence of liberty, Beauty,

The patriot’s choice, ong of labor,

The right of the people,; Manifest destiny,

The crowning glory, Let it alone!

The pumpkin, Disconcerted candidate,
When you’re down, Maud Muller after
What England has done| Hans Breitman,

The right of neutrality, | What is true happiness,
‘The national flag, The Irish of it, A par-
Our true future, ody,

 

 

On keeping at it, The dread secret,
|The treasures of the/Civil service reform,

|__ deep, ‘The true gentleman,
Keep cool, The tragic pa.

The precious freight, | SABBATH SCHOOL PIKCKS
A sketch, A cry for life,

 

/'The sword the true ar-|The satbath,

biter, Gnarled lives,
Aristocracy, A good life,
BaronGrimalkin’s death |‘To whom shall we give
Obed Snipkins, thanks?

 

Miscellaneous,

Treatment of petitions,

The decorum of debate,

Hints to a chairman.

IV.—DEVATES,

Debate in full :

Which is the grentest
benefit to his country
—the warrior, statca-
man, or poet?

Debates in brief;

I, Is the rending of
works of fiction to ba
condemned ¢

Il, Are lawyers.a hen-
efit or @ curse to so~
ciety t
V.— QUOTATIONS. AND

PHRASES.
tine

12.

What we see in the sky.
A lecture,

Whiat-I wish,

Good manners,

A ballad of Luke Erie,

Suffrage,

The Caucasian race,

A review of situation,

Little Breeches,

Hans Donderbeck’swed.

ding,
A victim of toothache,
Story of the twins,
A cold in the nose,
My uucle Adolphus.

The midnight train,
The better view,
Do thy little—do it well,
Jesus forever,
The heart,
noe world,
eautiful though
A picture of ieee
true to you!
young man,’ ~
Time is passing,
The gospel of an

 

A catastrophe, Resolution,
heerfulness, Never mind,
Mountains, The Bible,

!
war
The want of the hous,

 

strel,

The ualucky lovers,

 

 

fon not harshly,

urave,
The last lay of the Min-)Christianity our bul-!The eterual hyma,

Live for good,
Th. silent city,

 

  
   

Dime Schoo! Series=-Speakers. »

 

DIME. LUDICROUS SPEAKER, No, 14.

@onrting,

Tligher,

The closing year,
‘The inaniac’s defense,
‘The hen scratches,

  

Ass and the vivlinist,
‘iews of married lite,
Bachelors and flirts,

 

Job's turkey,

A hurdshell sermon,
My first knife,

Der Loddery Dicket,
A exuui-ballad,

Woman’s rights,
What othe matter,
Jones’ pirate,
0088,

‘Touch of the sublime,
Blooded Van Snoozie,
Blast aguinst tobacco,
‘Tobacco boys,

Big grniuses,

My first cigar,
Terrible t’-tale,
Silver wedding,
Prohebishon,

   

 

 

ae ;

ueer people,
iting a nese off,
Golden rules,

The singular man,
Fourth of July oration,
Cheer up,
Seli-esteem,
Buckwheat enkes,
Twain’s little boy,
A word with you,

A chemical lament,
The candy-pulling,

Contentment,
Ou courting,

On laughing,
The tanner boy,
On wimmen’s rights,
The healer,

The criminal lawyer,
Ballad of Matilda Jane,
Water,

The ballad of a baker,
Geod-for something,
A loving sermon.

 

KARL PRETZEL’S KOMIKAL SPEAKER, No. 15.

Schandal,

Don’d been afraid,
Gamboling,
Indemberance,
Gretchen nna me go ond
Hope. Das ish vat itish,
* Dot musquiter,’”
Leedle gal-child sdream
Dhere vas no crying,
Leedle speedches,

Pells, pelis,

The puzzled Dutchman,

 

DIME YOUTH’S STEAKER, No. 16.

A call to the fleld,

To retailers,

War, war to the death,
Adjuration to duty,
Tievcrasader’s xppeal,
A boy's testimony,
Thave drank my last,
The spirit-siren,
Rum’s maninc,

 

Address to a school;
His sphere,
Translations from Esop.
The treachery of Jones,
Don’t call a mana liar,
Man. A lecture,
|Bu’st. A “ dialect,’?
[Simon Short’s son Sam,
kerimember der poor,
Natural history views,
Thecart before the horse
To see ourselves,

 

 

|The evil benst,

elp,

The hardest lot of all,
|The curse of rum,

\The two dogs—a fable,
|The source of reform,
[the rum fiend,

\True law and false,

In bad company,

Lite is what we make. si, The only true nobility,

Tuate not,

(The inebriate’s end,

{Sorrowful tale,

|The loaters’ society.
|1t’s the early bird, ete.,
Music,

/On lager beer,
|Caudle’s wedding-day,
|Dot young viddow,
|The best cow in peril,
Frequent critters,

jIn forthe railroad,
Song of the sink,

(Case of young Bangs,

A drunken soliloquy,
The work to do,

To labor is to pray,
The successful life,
Better than gold,
Seed-tlme and harvest,
Invocation tu cold water
Now,

The grent lesson to learn
The tiper’s lament,
God’s liquor,

The Mllinois Assembly,

Ve cannibal mun,

Boss Bagshaw,

Pretzel asa soldier,

The raccoon,

My childhood,

Schneider’s ride,

Boy suffrage,
ardening,

He vas dhinkin’,

Abner Jones’ testimony,

By amoney changer’s.

Value cf life work,

“ Accept the situation,
Died of whisky,

A story with a moral,
Breakers ahead,
Ichabod Sly, =
Effects of intemperance,
The whisky wly isit,
Local option

Be good to the body,
‘Worth makes the wan,

”

THE DIME ELOQUENT SPEAKER, No. 17,

An adjuration,

The kings of business,
Purity of speech,
Parson Caldwell,
Valtie of reputation,
Hand that rocks world,
Swelling manhood,
Summer,

Woman's love,

‘The bricklayers,
Words of silver,
Drive on! drive ont
The tramp,

The State immortal,

 

The moral factor,
Walking with the world
The only safety,
Knowledge,

Be careful what yon say
Stand by the constit’n,
A true friend,

The mocking: bird,

The value of virtue,
She would be a muson,
Evils of ignerance,
The use of time,

Come down,

{Anatomical lecture,
Minnetunkee,

|The eas press,
|The Sabbath,

| Busy bodies, .
Anatomical lecture 9,
\A blow in the dark,
|The specter caravan,

The want of the country) The true saviors,

True fame,

Something to shun,
Plea for Ireland,

Smile whene’er vouean,
The wood-of sturs,

A thonght,

The housematd,

The goblin cat,
Aristocrats,

The knightly newsboy,
A call to vote,

The modern frand,
Running for)-gislutare,
To x young wan,
Heads,

The new dispensation,
Turning the grindstone,
Short sermon.

THE DIME CENTENNIAL £PEAKER, No. 18.

Columbia,
Washington

Appeal for iberty,
The Americun hero,

Resistauceto op-ression Revolutionary #

Patriotism,

Green Mountain boys,’
Eloquence ot Utis,
Washington,

America must be free,

The Fourth of July,
Varren’s address,

A call to liberty,

Good faith,

 

Our responsibili
British barbarity,
How freedom is won,
Adams and liberty,
Our duties,

   

Ndlera,

 

 

Freedom the only hope,|Our destiny;
Day of disinthrallment, The American flag,
No alternative but iib’y |The true union,

Carmen belliersum,

{American independence

Sword of Bunker Hill, | Wosbinzton & Pranklin Liberty aud umn,

{Sink or swim,
‘The buff and blue,
The union,

Th. mart repy,
Lexiugt n,.

 

 

x hope,

D claration of InZep’e,
Tho liberty bell,
Washi gion’s attributes
What we fre,

Our great trust,

God bless our States,
Looking backward,

M:> tien and Lis men,

Anoble plea,

Ori, inal Yunkee Doodle

Wo fe’s address,

Wu

The ratio: al ensign,

| God save the nniva,

{Our nata! day,

|The 22d of Feb-nary,

‘New Eugland’s dead, .

Repeal! repeal !

The true hero,

Old Irensides,

Our gilts to history,
dea

 

Uncle S-m’s a hur

JCvatepulal oration,

 

 

 
   

 

1i_g for Montg’y,

 

il
F
Ki
DIME SCHOOL SERIES. —fneakers.

 

‘Pompey Squash,

The American phalanx, |Sour ®
- | iuten ‘Claws,’ Mr. Lo’s new version,

pe’
The same, |The unwr'

 

 

  
 
 
  

 

    
 

The old eanoe, |The ager, (‘The midnight express,
Room at the top, |Fish, | Morality’s worst enemy)
New Englaud weather, Judge not thy brother, The si |
Bluggs, (The dog St. Bernard ‘The

Leedle Yaweob Strauss,|The liberal candidat», —_|'Tine money less |
A fable, A boy’s opinion of hens, (Strike through the knot,

 

Good alone are great,

The tramp’s yiews, a
|The great Napoleon,

M. ral littleness, ‘The new scriptures,

An agricultural! aderess,!

DIME SERi0-COMIC SPEAKER, No. 19.

Smart bey's epinien,
‘The venouwews worm,
Corns,
Up early,
Not so eusy,
Deud beat in polities,
War and dueling,
Horses. A protwst,
Excelsior,

Paddy’s version of ex

 
 

Yawcob Hoffeltegobble, |
The secting saciem, |
Street Arab’s  sermon,|
Address to young ladies, |
A little big man,

Tue test of friendship,
Tie price of pleasure,

God,

Save the Republic,

Watches.of she night,

The closing year,

Wro.g and right road,

An enemy to society,

Barbara Freitchic,

The most precious gift,

Intellectual aud’ moval
power,

Thanatovsis,

New era of labor

Work of faith,

A dream,

La dume aux camelias,

 

Golonely Sellers eluci
clone Se is

a

Clory mit ter Sthars
und Sthripes,

Terence O'Dowd’s pat-
riotism,

The two lives,
The present age,
At midnight,
Good-night,
Truth,

The funny man,
The littie orator,

Penalty of selfishness,

Lights Oat,

Clothes don"t make the
man,

The last man,

 

Mind your own by
timents,
My Esquimaux a,
Story of the little rid hin
Shonny. Schwartz,

The Indian’s wrongs,
Address to young men,

The trombone, celsior,

Don’t despord, The close, hard man,
‘The mill cannot grind,|Apples and application,
What became of a lie, old Scrooge,

Now and then, Man, geu
How ub vos dut for high) sidered,
{Early rising, JA chemical wedding.

 

ically come

DIME SELECT SPEAKER, No. 20.

Now fs the time,
Exhortation to patriots,
He is everywhere,

A dream of darkness,
Religion the keystone,
Scorn of office,

Who are the free?

The city on the hill,

| Won’t you lat my papa
work! r
Conscience tho
guide,

Whom to honor,
The lords of labor,
Early rising,
Pumpernickel and Pep-

best

How to save the Re-| _ schikoff,
public, Only a tramp,
The good old thmes, Cage them,
Monmouth, Time’s soliloqu~,

Find a way or mnkeit,
The imusquito buat,

Boer as
Moral Desolation,
i The hero,

 

My Fourth'of July sen
My castle in Spain,
Beautiful Snow,

a.
One hundred years ago,jThe new mythology

De ’sperience ob de Reb-

?rend Quacko Stroug, |The new mythology)

dollar or two,
On some more hash,
Where money is king,

 

The line-kiln club ora-

‘toa,

Farmer Thornbush on
fools,

The fiddler,

‘The regular season,

The school-boy’s lament,

Dot baby off nine,

Bluggs onee more,

Views on agricylture,

 

Grand father’s clock,
The X[Xth century,
Mary’s von little ram,
A familiar lecture on

 

science,
Ol and new time,
Clayfoot’s spirit race,
The village school,
A sermon for the sisters,
De filosofy ob fun,
Disappointed di coverer,
A heathen’s score,
Der dog und der lobster,
The young tramp,
: Delights of the season,

Self-evident truths,

_ DIME FUNNY SPEAKER, No. 21.

Joan of Are,
The blessings of Szm
life,
The people,
mythology |Thermopy le,
'Cats,

(Vulcan,)

‘an;
he new
(Baechns,)

2
Professor Dinkelapeigel-|I kin nod trink to-nighd, Jim) Blndeo; or, the

\K

J

| mince pie,

\John Jenkins’s sermon,
{A parody on ‘Tell ane
| ye winged winds,”

'A foggy day,

lite,
onsertrated wisdum,

man on the origin of{|/The new church doc:}

oseph Brown and the|Josiuh Axtell”

Prairie Belle,
trine, |A catastrophic ditty,
Wilyum’. watermillion, The maniac’s defense,

oration,| Woman, God bl. sé ber!
Parson Barebone: a Be miserable,
athema, ¥ | Dodds versus Dauba,
meer Squash on heat, |The Caci’s judgment,
Fritz Valdber is wade a; That calf,
mason. ~ |

 

DIME JOLLY SPEAKER, NO, 22.

The delights of Spring,
Josh Billings’s views,
Beasteses,
How tew pik out a
watermellon,
How tew pik out a dog
How tew pik outa kat
How tew pik out a

 

ife,
\This side and that,
Nocturna) mewsings,
The lunatic’s reverie,
A bathetic ballad,
The ear,
'Bickbene,

 

|

 

 

A weak ease, A new declaration of

 

 
 

    

they may be happy yet.| independence,
Orpheus, A side wy {Tt ily ot fellow. A
Perseus. A “classic,” | Christmas welcome,
Rigid information, My first cout,

The fanny man, The fire-brivade,

 

Don’t give it away,

A dark warning. A
“colored ”? dissertation

An awful warning. An
effective nppeal,

{A patriotic “splurge,”
The good old tines, in-

deed! A cong atula-

tory reminder,
Stealing the sucred fire,
De parson sowed de ee The story of Prome
Pompey’s Thanksgiving! theus modernized,

turkey, |The owl and the pussy-
The new essay onman,! cat,

 

(3 The above books are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will b 2
address, on receipt of pri e, 10 cents each. r : jaceenty pust-paldy te va § «

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, $8 William &t., N.Y,

 
. Patse:

os

DIME s¢Ho0L §

Peet i ett ey

ERIES.—"poskers and Dialogues.

DIME DIALECT SPEAKER, No, 23,

Dut’s wat’s de matter, |All about a bee,
The Miss ssippi miracley|Scandal,
Ven te tide eooms in, | A dark side view,
Dose Jains vot,Mary haf|Te pesser vay,
in learning German,
Mary’s shmal! vite lamb

Kot,
Pat O'Flaherty on +vo-

i A healthy discourse,

Tovins so to speak,

man’s rights,
The home ralers, how|
they “ spakes,’” Old Mrs. Grimes,
Hezekiah Dawson on) \ parody,
Mothers-in-law, Mars and cate,
‘He didn’t sell the | Bill Underwood, pilot,
‘Tue wue story of Frank-|Old Granley,
lin’s kite,
I would L-were a boy
again, a
A patlietic story,

tion,
Widder
words,

Green’s

The pill peddler’s ora,|Our  ndidate’y

Latest Chinese outrage,| My neighbor’s dogs,
The manifest destiny ol | Condensed Mythology,
> the-Trishman Pictus,

v ’

lPespy McCunn}

|Sprays from, Josh Bil |

| lings, |

De circumstances ob de|A doketor’s drubbles,

| sitiwation, |The coming man,

Dar’s nuffin new under|The illigant affair at
de sun, Muldoon’s,

'A Negro religious poem,|That little baby round

\That violin the corner,

|Pienic deli, hts, A genewine inference,

An. invitation to the
bird of liberty,

views,
| Dundreary’s wisdoin,

last, Plain language by truth-| The crow,

i fal Jane, Out west,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 26.

Poor cousins, Three ladies and two gentlemen.

Mountains and mole-hills. Six |.dies and several
siectators.

A teat that didnot fail. Six bovs.

Two ways of seeing things.. Two little girls.

Don’t. count. your chickens before they are
hatched. Four ladies and a boy,

Allis miris love and war. 3 ladies, 2 gentlemen.

How uncle Josh got rid. f the legacy. Two males,
with several transformations.

O’Dowd’s campaign. “For three males
ani one female.
Hasty inferences not alway:
OS.
Discontented Annie,
A double surprise, . Four males and
~Whatwas itt For five Indies. ~
What will cure them! For a lady and two boys.
Independent. For numerous churacters.
Each seuson the best. For four boys.
Tried and found wanting. For several males.
A boy’s plot. For several characters.

:
»

3 jnat. Numerous

For several girls. 1
one femw 8,

A test that ladies and two

told. For six young

anne z +
Oreanizing 0 debating sdciet 7. ‘or four boys.
The awakening. Wor four little girls.
The rebuke proper. . For 3.gentlemen, 2 ladies
Exorcising an evil spirit. For six ladies,
Both sides of the fence. For four males.
The cpirits of the wood. Fer twe troupes of girls,

s.

>

Who shall have the dictionary? For six typical
_ male chara and two females.

The test of bravery, For four boys and teacher.
Fortune’s wheel. For four male charactera,
The little wsthetes. For six little girls.

The yes and noofemoke. For three little bays.
No references,
An amazing good boy. One male, one female.
What a visitationdid. For aeveral ladies.

#97 The above Jooks are sold by Newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent,

" address, on receipt of price, 10 cents each.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 27.

DIME DIALO

Six gentlemen and three ladies. |

The lesson of mercy. Two very small girls,

Practice what you preach. Four ladies.

Politician. Numerous characters.

The canvassing agent. ‘Two males an
females.

Grub. .Two males.

A ht scare, Three females and one male,

Embedi-d sunshine. Three young ladies,

{How Jim Peters died. ‘wo males.

id twe

The street girl’s good acass. For two Indies and
two little girls,
“That ungrateful little nigger.” For two males.
If Lhad the money. . For three little girlex
pe: I. For several ladies
ages one gentleman,
Love's protest. For twoslittle girls. 9
Au erflorced cure. For severalysharacters,

arances are decei

three males.
ia geutie conquest. For two young girls,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 28.

No room for the drone, For three little boys.
Arm-chair. For numerous characters.

Measure for mesure. For four girls.

Saved by a am. For two males and twe

females.
An infallible sign. For four boys.
A good use for money. For six little girls.
An.agreeable profession, For several charaeters

GUES No, 29.

Simple Stnion, _For four little bovs.

The reddight. For four males, two females.

The aweetest thought. For four little girls.

The whuman monster. 6 ladies, 1 gentlemen,

Three little fools, For four small boys,

Beware of the dog! For three ladies and thr-e
“dodgers”? —

\Joe Hunt’s hunt, For two boys and two girls,

\Rags. For six males,

*

 

post-paid, to any

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Sty N. ¥.

 

Those who preach and those who perform, For,