COSTUMES.
| Zeke. | —Long white overcoat, checked pants, light wig, white hat. |
| Phil. | } Seedy clothes, red noses, and slouched hats. |
| Ned. | |
| Chick. | —Woolly wig, blackened face, overalls, and checked shirt. |
Scene.—Back street in Boston. Should it not be convenient to have scenery, a very good substitute can be obtained by spreading upon the wall at the back of the stage a variety of posters, show-bills, advertisements, &c.
Enter Phil, L.
Phil. Well, if this isn’t particularly pleasant! I’ve been roaming round town ever since the break of day, longing and waiting for my bitters. Dead broke, bank closed, and credit exhausted. Nobody asks me to take a drop. The landlords won’t treat, and I can’t find a copper in the gutter. I have begged of everybody I met; but it’s no use. One man said he would give me a loaf of bread. Bread!—do I look like a man that wants bread? No, I want something to drink: when I can’t get that, I’ll begin to think about bread. Another man said he would give me a breakfast if I would work for him an hour. Work! I never did work, and I don’t think I shall begin now. I’m one of the aristocracy; they don’t work; society takes care of them when they’re unfortunate: so let society take care of me. I wish I could find a dollar, or a half a dollar, or a quarter, or a ten-cent bit, or— (Enter Ned, R.) Halloo, Ned! is that you?
Ned. Yes, all there is left of me! What are you doing down there?
Phil. Looking for my diamond pin. But what’s the matter with you? You look as though, like me, you hadn’t had your bitters this morning.
Ned. No, I haven’t had my bitters; and that’s what’s the matter. This is an ungrateful country! Why don’t it take care of its “bone and sinew” better. There’s those chaps at the State House mighty civil to you just before election. Plenty of liquor then,—enough to float us all.
Phil. That’s why we are called the floating population,—hey, Ned?
Ned. But no sooner is election over than they shut themselves up, won’t treat themselves, and go to making laws against selling liquor, which prevents their constituents from obtaining the necessities of life. There’s gratitude for you.
Phil. Put not your trust in princes, Ned.
Ned. Trust! I wish I could find somebody to trust me. I wasted my valuable time last night in Steve Foster’s bar-room, laying round to get asked to drink; and I was asked. And Steve Foster made money by my being there; and now this morning, when I ask him for a drop of gin, he says, “Where’s your money?”—“Ain’t got any,” was my reply; and then, before I had time to explain things, he gives me a lift, and sends me into the gutter. I say this is an ungrateful country, where a hard-working man like me is used in this way.
Phil. Hard-working man you are! What do you work at?
Ned. Yes, hard-working indeed. Don’t I inspect liquors that go into Steve Foster’s cellar, to see that they are genuine?
Phil. How, pray?
Ned. By smelling round his cellar windows. Do you think I don’t nose good liquor?
Phil. Well, I guess we don’t either of us “nose” much liquor this morning.
Ned. Look here, Phil: when I was in Steve Foster’s just now, a greenhorn was buying some liquor. I don’t know what it was; but it was put up in a demijohn. There he is now (pointing, L.), coming this way. If we can only manage to get possession of that demijohn, we’re safe for one drink at least.
Phil. Good! let’s try it on,—pass ourselves off for State constables, give him a scare.
Ned. All right, stand back, here he is! (They retire back. Enter Zeke, L., with demijohn.)
Zeke. I declare I feel about as mean as old Deacon Smithers did when he split his bran-new, brass-button, Sunday-go-to-meeting coat clean up the back while he was on his knees to Aunt Nabby’s darter Susan, popping the question, and she wouldn’t have him neither? Here am I Zekiel Short, Corresponding Secretary to the Rocky-valley Teetotalers, sneaking through the streets of Boston with a demijohn in my hand. I daren’t look a decent man in the face; and as for the gals—Christopher! the sight of one on ’em makes me blush way up to the roots of my hair. Catch me in such a scrape again! Got all my groceries and fixin’s up to the cars fust-rate, all ready for a start, when I happened to think that our apothecary wanted me to bring up something for him to make matrimonial wine of—no, that ain’t it; antimonial wine,—something for sick folks: and he wanted to get the poorest and cheapest stuff that I could scare up; and I rather think I have something that will suit him. I can smell turpentine way through that demijohn; and I shouldn’t wonder if it eat its way out afore I got home. I shouldn’t like to have any of our folks see me in this pickle, they’d have me up for backslidin’ sure as preaching. (Phil and Ned have been prowling round Zeke during this speech eyeing him and the demijohn.) Neow, what’s them are chaps eyeing me for? I wonder if they’re State constables. How do you do, sir?
Phil. Sha’n’t I assist you with that demijohn, Mr. Johnson?
Zeke. No, I thank you; and my name ain’t Johnson, nor demi-Johnson either.
Ned. Sha’n’t I assist you, Mr. Eh—— Mr. Eh——?
Zeke. Well, I guess not; and my name ain’t Mr. Eh——.
Phil. Do let me take it for you, you look fatigued.
Zeke. Do I? well, so do you. You look kinder peaked, as though you’d slept on the top of the meeting-house steeple, and had to shin down the lightning-rod afore breakfast, with nary a streak of lightning to grease your way.
Ned. You’d better let my friend carry it for you. He’s used to carrying such things.
Zeke. Well, I haven’t the least doubt of that. You both look as though you could carry a great quantity of this article. I’ll carry it myself; but I’m just as much obliged to you; and, to show my gratitude, won’t you take something?
| Ned. | } eagerly. Yes, yes! |
| Phil. |
Zeke. Well, s’pose you take a walk.
Phil. Look here, Mr. What’s-your-name. There’s just enough of this. I’ll take that demijohn. I’m a State constable.
Zeke. A what?
Ned. A State constable. So am I. Our orders are to arrest all suspicious persons with demijohns.
Zeke. Sho, are you, though? State constables! well, I declare, I never should have thought it!
Phil. So I’ll thank you for that demijohn.
Zeke. State constables! Well, I declare! Want my demijohn too? Do you know where I came from?
Phil. Yes: from the Rural District.
Zeke. Rural? where’s that? No, sir: I’m from Rocky-valley District; and, when a constable asks us for a demijohn in that style, we say, “Where’s your warrant?”
Phil. Oh! you do, do you? Well, a warrant isn’t necessary here; so give up your demijohn.
Ned. Come, give it up, and save further trouble.
Zeke. Look here, State constables, I’m a peaceable citizen. I’m also a plain-spoken individual. You’re a couple of State constables? Where’s your uniform? There’s nothing uniform about you, except your red noses, which are pretty well matched. Look here! (Takes off his coat.) That demijohn is under my protection. I’m mighty ashamed of its company; but I’m bound to take it home with me, if it don’t burn up on the way; and, if you want it, come and take it. (Backs up stage, squares off, and shows fight.)
Phil (coming forward). We sha’n’t get it that way.
Ned. No, sir. State constables won’t do. We can’t take it. Ah! a lucky thought. There’s that little darkey Chick playing by the water. Go push him in quick.
Phil. What’s the joke?
Ned. No matter, go and do it; and then come back yelling for help.
Phil. Ah! I see it. (Exit, L.)
Zeke (resuming his coat). Well, as there doesn’t seem to be any very great danger of a raid, I’ll move along towards the cars. Them chaps want my demijohn pretty bad. (Phil cries outside, “Help! Help!”) Halloo! what’s that? (Enter Phil, L.)
Phil. Ned, can you swim?
Ned. Swim? not a stroke. What’s the matter?
Phil. A little darkey has just fallen into the water there. I tried to reach him with a pole, but failed; and I mustn’t go into the water: my physician said it would be the death of me.
Zeke. You cursed fools! is that the way you chatter when a fellow-creature is drowning? Where is he?
Ned. Can you swim?
Zeke (throws off his coat). Of course I can. Where is he, I say?
Phil. Right off there: you can see his head just going under for the last time. Do save him!
Zeke. I’ll save him if the wool holds. (Exit Zeke, L.)
Phil. And I’ll save your demijohn! (Both Phil and Ned rush together to the demijohn.)
Phil. Let’s take it home at once.
Ned. Hold on, I must have a drop.
Phil. Be quick, then; he’ll be back. Let me have the first pull.
Ned. No, no: that brilliant idea by which we obtained it was mine.
Phil. But I executed it, and nearly executed the darkey at the same time.
Ned. Well, well, hurry, hurry!
Phil. Then here goes (drinks and spits out). Oh! murder, what stuff! Do you suppose it is poison?
Ned. It came from Steve Foster’s. You ought to know the taste of every thing in his place.
Phil. But this is horrible.
Ned. No matter, down with it! “Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you know.
Phil. Here goes (drinks, and hands the demijohn to Ned). I’ve given my stomach a surprise-party, I guess.
Ned. Ah! “this is the nectar that Jupiter sips” (drinks, and spits out). Phew! concentrated essence of all that is horrible! What stuff!
Phil. Here comes the Yankee.
Ned. Then here goes! (Drinks, and then Phil and Ned separate and get in R. and L. corners of the stage, leaving the demijohn in the centre. Enter Zeke, L. dragging Chick.)
Zeke. There, you little specimen of ball-blacking, try and keep out of the water! What sent you there?
Chick. Donno, Massa: spec it was a conwulsion.
Zeke. Where would you have gone to if I hadn’t pulled you out?
Chick. Donno Massa: spec I’d gone to Dixie.
Zeke. Well, go and lay down there and dry yourself.
Chick. Spec I will, massa.
(Chick goes back, and, during the next dialogue, manages to get at the demijohn, and take a drink.)
Zeke (putting on his coat). Halloo! where’s my demijohn? Ho, ho! I didn’t leave it there. The “State constables” have been at it, have they? (Lifts it.) How light it is! Those chaps have helped themselves while I was pulling out the darkey. If they don’t have a convulsion in their insides, then I’m a Dutchman. Here’s a chance for a speculation. I’ll try the effects of a little “moral suasion,” and see if I can’t add a couple of names to the temperance pledge. (To Phil.) Look here, you’ve been at my demijohn?
Phil. I, sir? Why, I am a member of the temperance society, twenty years’ standing.
Zeke (aside). Are you? well, you’re a-lying now. (To Ned.) Did you trouble my demijohn?
Ned. Me, sir? No. I’m a reformed drunkard.
Zeke (aside). All but the reformed. (Aloud.) Well, I’m glad it wasn’t you; for whoever did touch it is a dead man. Do you know what’s in that demijohn?
Ned (aside). Oh, dear, how queer I feel! (Aloud.) No.
Phil (aside). Good gracious! what’s the matter with me? (Aloud.) No.
Zeke. That demijohn contains— (Pause.)
Ned (aside). Oh, murder! my vitals! (Aloud.) Well, well, what does it contain?
Zeke. That demijohn contains— (Pause.)
Phil (aside). Oh, my insides! (Aloud.) Well, well, speak quick.
Zeke. That demijohn contains—
Ned (aside). I’m burning up.
Phil (aside). I shall howl, I know I shall.
Zeke. That demijohn contains— Did you ever hear of Butler’s New-Orleans Syrup?
| Ned. | } Oh, oh! |
| Phil. |
Chick. Ow, ow, ow!
Zeke. Well, it isn’t that. Did you ever hear of Sherman’s Rebel Rat Exterminator?
| Phil. | } Oh, oh! |
| Ned. |
Chick. Ow, ow, ow!
Zeke. Well, it ain’t that. Did you ever hear of—
| Phil. | } Oh, oh! |
| Ned. |
Chick. Ow, ow, ow!
Zeke. Well, it ain’t that.
Phil. Oh, horror! What is it?
Ned. Oh, murder! What is it?
Zeke. The what-is-it? No: it isn’t that. That’s one of Barnum’s curiosities.
Ned. For mercy’s sake tell me what is gnawing at my vitals. I feel my strength failing me. I’m sure I’m a dead man. (Kneels, R. of Zeke.) I confess it was I who drank your filthy stuff.
Phil (kneels, L. of Zeke). And I confess too. I did drink your poison. What shall we do? Save us if you can.
Chick (kneels in front of Zeke). O massa! I spec’s I’s a goner.
Zeke. Halloo, little nig, what’s the matter with you?
Chick. Dunno, massa, spec’s there’s a yearthquake inside me.
Zeke. Did you drink from that demijohn?
Chick. Yes, massa: spec I did. You tole me to lay down and get dry; and, by golly! I got dry so fast, I couldn’t help drinking. Sartin sure, hope I may die, massa.
Zeke. Well, you are a handsome group, you are! Feel puty sick, don’t ye?
| Phil. | } Oh, oh! |
| Ned. |
Chick. Ow, ow! want to go to de horsefiddle.
Zeke. You want to know the remedy?
| Phil. | } eagerly. Yes, yes! the remedy. |
| Ned. |
Chick. Yes, massa, de remember me.
Zeke. Well, here it is. (Produces pledge.) Here’s the pledge of the Rocky-valley Teetotalers, whereby the signers promise to indulge in no spirituous liquors. Sign this, and I’ll save you.
Ned. What, promise to drink no more liquor! I’ll die first.
Phil. What, sign away my liberty! Death first.
Zeke. All right, liberty or death. You have swallowed poison, deadly poison: it’s slow, but sure. Good-by. I’ll send the coroner for you in an hour.
| Phil. | } Oh! give us the pledge. |
| Ned. |
Zeke. All right; here you are. (Turns Phil round, and places paper on his back while Ned signs; then places paper on Ned’s back while Phil signs; both groaning during the operation.) Now, then, the best thing you can do is to make a bee-line for that apothecary’s, and get an emetic. (Ned and Phil start, R.) Hold on! The nature of the poison you have swallowed is such, that, should you ever take a drop of liquor into your stomach, the old symptoms will return.
| Phil. | } Oh, oh! |
| Ned. |
Zeke. So look out! beware of any thing in the shape of liquor.
Phil. I’ll beware of Yankees, you be sure. Oh!
(Exit, R.)
Ned. Yes, keep clear of the man with a demijohn. Oh!
(Exit, R.)
Zeke. Well, Chick.
Chick. Well, massa, ain’t you gwine to make a tea-kettle of me?
Zeke. By and by, Chick; but for the present you shall be demijohn-bearer to the corresponding secretary of the Rocky-valley Teetotalers. You’ve had a little too much of water to-day, and I think a little too much of spirits.
Chick. Ow, ow, by golly, I feel him now!
Zeke. Well, take up the demijohn and go with me. I’ve added two names to the temperance pledge. I haven’t much hope of their sticking; but I rather think they’ll have good cause to remember this day, and their adventure with the man with the demijohn.
(Exit Zeke and Chick, R.)
Curtain.