COSTUMES.
Robert. Acts 1 and 2, Uniform of a private. Act 3, Uniform of a colonel.
Rowell. Act 1, Modern dress, change to colonel's uniform. Act 2, Colonel's undress uniform. Act 3, Fashionable dress.
Hosea. Act 1, Make up "fat;" blue coat with brass buttons; nankeen pants; striped vest; white necktie; face florid; nose a little pimply; curly gray wig. Act 3, Something like the same, but figure rather emaciated; cheeks sunken; and a little more bald than in first act.
Hiram Jenks. Act 1, Short jacket, through which his arms protrude; light pants, very short; blue stockings; thick shoes; crop wig; general juvenile appearance. Act 3, Short dress bob-tail coat, &c.; not dandified, but neat; should be an entire change from Act 1.
Crimp. Act 1, Black woolly wig; gray pants; white shirt, sleeves rolled up; wide-rimmed straw hat. Act 2, Disguise of an old darkey; gray wig; gray side-whiskers; blue shirt; white duck pants, with one suspender. Act 3, Black coat and pants; white vest; white necktie.
Gen. Grant. Uniform of major-general, with cloak; military slouch hat, full beard, and make up as usual.
Gaylie Gifford. Act 1, Neat travelling-suit. Act 3, Handsome evening-dress.
Mrs. Trueworth. Black dress, white collar and cuffs, and widow's cap, very neat.
Mattie. Act 1, Muslin dress and white apron; sleeves rolled up. Act 3, Evening dress.
NOTE.—"Enlisted for the War," here presented in its most simple form, can be elaborately produced, if preferred. Where a military display is desirable, the second act will allow of "an awkward-squad drill," "relieving guard," a bayonet-drill, or the introduction of a camp song. At the end of the third act, the returning company might march across the stage, behind windows and door, illuminated with white and red lights, with the chorus "Marching through Georgia."
Act I.—Scene. Interior of farm-house. Door in flat, R. C. Window in flat, L. C. Outside the window arrange flowers in pots, and shrubbery. Inside, muslin curtain draped up at L. Window open; between it and door, bureau or secretary. Lounge or sofa, L. Rocking-chair, R. C. Small table with a chair beside it, L. C.; writing-materials on table. Chair, L. Mrs. Trueworth discovered in rocking-chair, knitting and rocking. Mattie in chair beside table, her arms folded on table, her face hidden in her arms.
Hosea (outside). It's a downright shame. Look at it; a fine piece of property like this going, going at such a ruinous sacrifice; and I'm only offered nine hundred and fifty dollars for it; literally flowing with milk and honey. Shall I have ten,—ten, do you say? Quick, or you lose it; nine hundred and fifty once, nine hundred and fifty twice, nine hundred and fifty,—going, going, and gone to Wilder Rowell, Esq., for nine hundred and fifty dollars. You've got a bargain. Mattie (raising her head). Do you hear, mother? To Wilder Rowell. Mrs. T. It's a shame to let it go for that price, and to a stranger. Mattie. Mr. Rowell is no stranger, mother. It's now five years since he came to Grainlow with Mr. Gifford. Mrs. T. For all that, he's a stranger,—a proud, haughty man, whom nobody likes, nobody has confidence in. Mattie. Mr. Gifford had confidence enough to give him the guardianship of his daughter when he died two years ago; and Gaylie likes him. As for being proud and haughty, to me he is always pleasant and condescending. Mrs. T. Condescending, indeed! You're just as good as he is. Bless you, child, the Trueworths held their heads as high as the best of folks until our troubles commenced. Your father took to borrowing to experiment with his patent wrinkles, and mortgaged the farm to that mean skinflint, Hosea Jenks. Ah, well! he did it for the best, no doubt. Only six months dead, and now the old farm has gone too. Mattie. Mother 'tis hard, 'tis cruel, to leave you homeless in your old age. Had father been wise— Mrs. T. Hush, child! not a word against him. He was a good, kind father, and a husband to be proud of. In all his troubles he never would touch a cent of the money we had put by to push Rob through college. That was safely locked up; and the lad came through with all the honors. Mattie. What good can his learning do him now? Mrs. T. That remains to be seen. When the call came for men, our boy, bless him! stepped out with the first, and enlisted for the war. Then came the hard blow, hardest of all to bear. My own dear, noble husband breathed out his life in my arms, and joined the true and noble in that better land. Hark! I hear Robert's step. (Mattie rises, and goes up to the window. Robert enters slowly door in flat; comes down, places his hand on the back of his mother's chair.) Rob. Mother, the farm has gone. We are homeless. Mrs. T. (wipes her eyes, and endeavors to suppress emotion). Yes, Rob, the old home is ours no more. Perhaps it is as well we made a change. Now he who, who (rises, and stretches out her arms)—O Rob, Rob! I can't bear it; I can't bear it. (Sobs, and falls upon his neck.) Rob (embracing her). O mother! this should not have been. Had I known the worst, I could have prevented it. I have strong arms and a cool head. I could have managed the farm. I thought father was so comfortably settled; and now my enlistment binds me. Oh, I could have done bravely! Mrs. T. (recovering). And you will do bravely now, where every true man should stand in the hour of his country's peril, in the ranks of brave defenders. Fear not for us: there's a power of strength in these old arms yet, and a stout heart to struggle; ay, and a brave one. Am I not the mother of a man who leaves all to serve his country? Rob. Brave mother, you shall have a son to be proud of. Mrs. T. Right, boy. And my prayers and blessing shall cheer you on to victory. Rob. Yet you are homeless, mother. Our regiment is ready for the field: it only awaits the appointment of a colonel. I may be called away at an hour's notice. If I could only have secured the old home for you, I should have been content.
[Exit R.
[Exit F.
"When pole meets poll, then comes the crack of skull."
[Exit D. in F.
[Exit R.
[Exit door in flat, passing Mattie, who enters.
[Down R.
[Exit door in F.
[Exit door in F.
Act II.—(After two years.) Headquarters of Col. Rowell in Virginia. Room in a farm-house. Door in flat L., open; window in flat R., open. Landscape behind, moonlight if possible. Set the "moon" L., so the light will fall through the door and window. Writing-desk or table, against R. side; writing-materials, a candle to light, a pile of letters and papers, upon it. Chair in front of this. Give the scene a military character by placing a stack of arms in L. corner back, a pile of knapsacks in R. corner with an American flag thrown over it; hang up a drum between the door and window. Robert discovered, with musket, on guard outside the door; passes door and window twice. A "distant" fife plays, "The Girl I left behind me," through: as it ceases, Rob should be at door; he leans against the doorway L.
Rob. The boys are making merry to-night around the camp-fire; but that lively air brings only sadness to me. "The girl I left behind me," two years ago, in Grainlow, Gaylie Gifford, is still silent. Not a line in reply to my frequent letters. Has she repented of her choice? No, I cannot believe that; for my sister writes me she often speaks of me, longs for my return. But yet she never writes. Perhaps she has never received mine; 'tis hardly possible, and yet her silence—Can my enemy, the colonel, be conspiring to keep us apart? He is base enough to use any means to serve his purpose. By his orders, the mail is brought here, and inspected by him, before delivery; perhaps, that he may intercept any letters for me. If I could only get a single line from her, I would be content. Oh! I am ground down worse than any slave that tills the earth beneath the overseer's lash. Two years of service, and still a private! I know I have been honorably mentioned many times by my captain; and yet poorer men step above me: and I toil on, fight on, with no hope of promotion. Well, they shall not say I have not done my duty. Will the end never come, and free me from this bondage, give me liberty to turn my steps northward, to seek the star of promise that gleams in Gaylie's eyes? Halt! Who goes there? Crimp (comes from L., passes the window, and appears at door speaking). D-d-d-on't shoot! d-d-d-on't shoot! I's only a poor old darky, Massa Sentenull. Rob. Your business here? Crimp. Pressing b-b-business; d-d-d-on't shoot! Want to see de colonel. Rob. The colonel is absent. Crimp. Den I'll walk into de parlor, take a cheer, and wait for um. D-d-d-on't shoot! Rob. Business. Your pass, uncle. Crimp. Pass: yes, massa, got a pass. Here she am! (Searches pocket.) Golly! it am gone. No, here she am! (Searches bosom.) Not a pass; had um, sure; hope I may die— Rob. What's that sticking out of your hat? Crimp. Golly, dat's so! (Takes off hat, paper sticking out of crown). Put um up dar to keep um safe. (Hands pass.)
[Exit L.
Act III.—(Two years later.) Parlor in Gaylie Gifford's house. Door in flat, C., windows each side of it, with drapery curtains; shrubbery outside. Table, R. C., with books, &c.; a lighted astral lamp upon it. Lounge, L. Arm-chair, R., with small table beside it. Easy-chairs, R. and L. Should be handsomely furnished; elegantly, if possible, by adding statuettes, screens, &c. Mrs. Trueworth discovered in arm-chair, R., knitting. Mattie sitting at table, L. C., reading a newspaper.
Mattie (dropping paper). And so at last this cruel war is over, mother. Richmond has fallen, and our brave soldiers are already marching homeward. Only think of it! any day, any hour, may bring back our dear Rob, after four years' absence. Oh! 'twill be a happy return for all of us. Mrs. T. For you and me, Mattie, yes. I shall see my brave boy again; you, a noble brother, whose record in the long struggle is spotless. But how will Gaylie receive him? Mattie. With open arms, mother: are they not lovers? Mrs. T. They parted as lovers: but you know two years ago Wilder Rowell resigned his command, and returned to Grainlow; that from that time he has been a constant visitor to this house; that he is always welcomed by its mistress; that he attends her in all her walks and drives; that she smiles upon him, and evidently delights in his company. You know this, and I know it, and I don't like it. There, I've dropped a stitch! Mattie. Why, mother! I really believe you are jealous of Col. Rowell's attentions. Do you doubt Gaylie's affection for us, her love for Brother Rob? Mrs. T. Doubt her affection for us? No! Has she not been a dear daughter to me for these years? Has she not made us members of her own household? Have I not had, every day, convincing proofs of her affection? No, no! bless her dear heart, for Mother Trueworth has a warm corner in it. It's only for the boy I fear. Suppose he should come home, and find our Gaylie's heart turned from him, caught by this man whom I don't like, never did like, and never will like. There goes another stitch! Mattie. Suppose, suppose! O mother, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Why, I should no more doubt Gaylie's love for our Rob, than I should doubt— Mrs. T. Your love for Hiram Jenks, eh, Mattie? Mattie. There's another jealous one! He thinks Mr. Rowell is in love with me, or pretends he does, and continually quarrels with me about him. But we always make up, and I really believe that it's for the pleasure of being reconciled every day that he does it. Mrs. T. Ah! Hiram Jenks is a good, honest, smart, reliable young man: so you be careful, and not quarrel too often. There may be a time when there will be no reconciliation. Mattie. I'm not afraid of that, mother. He loves me dearly. But I mean to cure him of this folly the very next time he attempts it. Crimp (outside). Hi! whar's Missy Gaylie? whar she be? Hallelujum! (Enters, C., running, in a high state of excitement.) Babylum am fallen! Got a telegram down dar: de boys am coming dis yer night, got mos' home. Der a-lighting up down dar. "Johnny am marching home" double-quick. Yaas, indeed! Whar Miss Gaylie? Hi! lots ob fun. Mrs. T. Coming, Crimp, to-night? Crimp. Don't I tole you? Don't I tole you? I'se jes' gwine to 'luminate dis yer mamsum from de crown to de heel, regardless ob expense. Hi, golly! Jubilum am a-comun, and de darkies are jes' gwine into glory. Whar's Miss Gaylie? Whar she be? Golly! I can' hole myself still: mus' do somfum, or I shall combusticate and smash all to pieces. Whar's Miss Gaylie? (Runs off, L.) Mrs. T. (rising). Coming to-night! Dear, dear boy! I must dress myself to receive him. Just see what a state I'm in,—this old cap and this poor dress. Mattie. Why, mother, you never looked better in your life. Mrs. T. It's no such thing. I'm looking shabby, and my boy's coming home. Oh! I wish I had the regal robes of a queen, that I might receive him as he deserves. Dear, dear boy! (Hurries off, L.) Mattie. And so Rob is really coming home: how glad somebody will be to see him! She care for Wilder Rowell? I, for one, do not believe it. She's some reason for allowing his attentions: what it is, I cannot find out. When I ask her, she laughs, and breaks away singing, "Trust her not, she is fooling thee. Beware! Take care!" But I do trust her. She is all goodness. (Enter Rowell, C.) Rowell (aside). Ah! only pretty Mattie Trueworth. If I hadn't higher aspirations, I should dearly like to make love to that girl. (Aloud.) Good-evening, Miss Mattie. Mattie. Ah! Mr. Rowell, good-evening. Rowell. There seems to be a hubbub about this usually quiet mansion. What is going on? Mattie. Why, don't you know our soldiers are coming home to-night? Rowell. To-night! That is news. Is the war over? Mattie. Why, what a man! Don't you read the papers? Don't you take any interest in the war? Rowell (aside). Not since I resigned two years ago. (Aloud.) Oh, certainly! Is Richmond taken? Mattie. A week ago. Here's the whole account. (Rises with paper, and comes forward.) Rowell. Indeed! show it to me. (Puts his arm about her waist. Hiram appears at door, C.) Hiram. Ahem! a-hem! (Mattie starts to L. Rowell, with paper in his hand, starts R.) Hiram (with bombastic fury). Oh, yes, oh, yes! it is all true, all true. Rowell. What! is the news confirmed? Hiram (contemptuously). Confirmed! my suspicions are confirmed. (To Mattie.) Oh, you cruel, deceitful, perfidious, ungenerous, ungrateful, unkind, unjust, un—un—unsociable young woman! what have you done?
[Exit L.
[Exit R.
[Exit L.
[Exit C.
[Exit L.
Hiram and Mattie, R. Mrs. T., Rob, Gaylie, C.
Crimp, L. Curtain.