THE SALUTATORIAN’S DIFFICULTIES.

Characters.

Scene.—A stage. Curtain rises, and Frank Clayton comes forward and speaks.

Frank. Ladies and gentlemen: Our performances are now about to commence. We have spent some time in preparing for this exhibition, and we hope you will be pleased with all the performances that may be given. You well know that we have not had much practice in giving school exhibitions, and if you see any errors, we hope you will kindly forgive and overlook. We will endeavor to give our recitations correctly, and act our parts truthfully, and we ask you to—and we ask you to—and—and—and we ask that—that—

(Enter Harry Thompson. He comes in front of Frank and commences to speak.)

“Did you ever hear of Jehosophat Boggs,

A dealer and raiser of all sorts of dogs?

No? Then I’ll endeavor in doggerel verse

To just the main points of the story rehearse.

Boggs had a good wife—”

Frank. (Speaking in a loud whisper.) Harry, what did you come out here for? I’m not through with the introductory speech yet.

Harry. (Turns half way round, puts his hand to his mouth, as if to keep the audience from hearing, and speaks in a loud whisper.) I know you weren’t through, but you stuck, and I thought I had better come on. You know my recitation is second on the programme, and I didn’t want to have a bungle right at the commencement of the exhibition.

Frank. Go back to your place, you little rascal, and don’t interrupt me again. I’m going to speak my piece.

Harry. (With his hand up to hide his mouth as before.) Oh, you’re stuck and you’d better retire. (Turns to audience and continues to speak his piece.)

“Boggs had a good wife, the joy of his life,

There was nothing between them inclining to strife.

Except her dear J.’s dogmatic employment;

And that, she averred, did mar her enjoyment.”

Frank. (Whispering as before.) I say, Harry, get from before me and let me speak my piece.

Harry. (Turns, puts up his hand, and whispers as before.) Oh, you keep shady until I get through. (Turns to audience and speaks.)

“She often had begged him to sell off his dogs,

And instead to raise turkeys, spring chickens or hogs.

She made him half promise at no distant day

He would sell the whole lot, not excepting old Tray;

And as good luck would have it,—”

Frank. (Turning Harry by the collar and pulling him back.) I tell you to get out of this until I have spoken my piece.

Harry. I won’t. Let me alone, I say. You have stuck fast, and do you want to spoil the exhibition? Didn’t you know enough to keep off the stage until I had spoken my piece?

Frank. (Still holding him by the collar.) It is you that are spoiling the exhibition. (Leads him off the stage.)

Harry. (Speaking loudly as he goes out.) I call this an outrage.

Frank. (Returning to his place and commencing to speak.) Ladies and gentlemen, my speech has been interrupted, and I will commence again. Our performances are now about to commence. We have spent some time in preparing for this exhibition, and we hope you will be pleased with all the performances that may be given. You know that we have not had much practice in giving school exhibitions, and if you see any errors, we hope you will kindly forgive and overlook. We will endeavor to give our recitations correctly, and act our parts truthfully, and we ask you to—to—and we ask you to—and act our parts truthfully, and we ask you to—and we ask you to—(In a lower tone.) I’ve forgotten it again; isn’t that too bad? (Speaking as before.) And we ask you to—to—to—

(Enter Tommy Watkins. He comes in front of Frank, and commences to speak “The Ghost.”)

“’Tis about twenty years since Abel Law,

A short, round, favored merry

Old soldier of the Revolutionary War,

Was wedded to a most abominable shrew.

The temper, sir, of Shakespeare’s Catharine

Could no more be compared with hers

Than mine

With Lucifer’s.”

Frank. (In a loud whisper.) Tommy Watkins, get from before me. Don’t you see I’m speaking? I don’t want to be interrupted—I want to finish my speech.

Tommy. (Facing the audience and speaking in the same tone as when reciting his speech.) Oh, you’d better quit! You’ve stuck twice now, and if you don’t go off the stage the audience will become disgusted.

Sammy Long. (Seated in the audience.) The people are disgusted now with that boy’s opening speech. He’d better go home, memorize it, and speak it some time next year.

Tommy. There! You hear what they say out there in the audience. They are disgusted, and they think you had better leave the stage.

Frank. Oh, that’s nobody but Sammy Long, and he is displeased because we didn’t invite him to take part in the exhibition.

Tommy. Well, I’ll go ahead and speak my piece while you are trying to think up the words you have forgotten.

Her eyes were like a weasel’s; she had a harsh

Face, like a cranberry marsh,

All spread with spots of white and red;

Hair of the color of a wisp of straw,

And a disposition like a cross-cut saw.

The appellation of this lovely dame

Was Nancy; don’t forget the name.

Frank. Stop, Tommy; I can finish my speech now.

Tommy. So can I. (Continues his recitation.)

His brother David was a tall,

Good-looking chap, and that was all,

One of your great big nothings, as they say

Out in Rhode Island, picking up old jokes,

And cracking them on other folks.

Well, David undertook one night to play

The Ghost, and frighten Abel, who,

He knew,

Would be returning from a journey through

A grove of forest wood

That stood

Below

The house some distance—half a mile or so.

With a long taper

Cap of white paper,

Just made to cover

A wig, nearly as large over

As a corn-basket, and a sheet

With both ends made to meet

Across his breast

(The way in which ghosts are always dressed),

He took

His station near

A huge oak-tree,

Whence he could overlook

The road and see

Whatever might appear.

It happened that about an hour before, friend Abel

Had left the table

Of an inn, where he had made a halt,

With horse and wagon,

To taste a flagon

Of malt

Liquor, and so forth, which, being done,

He went on,

Caring no more for twenty ghosts

Than if they had been so many posts.

David was nearly tired of waiting;

His patience was abating;

At length, he heard the careless tones

Of his kinsman’s voice,

And then the noise

Of wagon-wheels among the stones.

Abel was quite elated, and was roaring

With all his might, and pouring

Out, in great confusion,

Scraps of old songs made in “the Revolution.”

His head was full of Bunker Hill and Trenton;

And jovially he went on.

Scaring the whip-po’-wills among the trees

With rhymes like these:

(Sings. Air, “Yankee Doodle.”)

“See the Yankees

Leave the hill,

With baggernetts declining,

With lopped-down hats

And rusty guns,

And leather aprons shining.”

“‘See the Yankees’—Whoa! Why, what is that?”

Said Abel, staring like a cat,

As, slowly, on the fearful figure strode

Into the middle of the road.

“My conscience! what a suit of clothes!

Some crazy fellow, I suppose.

Hallo! friend, what’s your name? by the powers of gin,

That’s a strange dress to travel in.”

“Be silent, Abel; for I now have come

To read your doom;

Then hearken, while your fate I now declare.

I am a spirit—” “I suppose you are;

But you’ll not hurt me, and I’ll tell you why:

Here is a fact which you cannot deny;—

All spirits must be either good

Or bad—that’s understood—

And be you good or evil, I am sure

That I’m secure.

If a good spirit, I am safe. If evil—

And I don’t know but you may be the devil—

If that’s the case, you’ll recollect, I fancy,

That I am married to your sister Nancy!”

(Bows and turns to go off. To Frank.) Now, Frank, you can go ahead again until you come to the sticking place. I hope that, during the time I have generously given you by speaking my piece, you have been collecting your scattered senses, and will now be able to finish what you began.

(Exit Tommy.)

Frank. Ladies and gentlemen, I am not at all pleased with this way of doing business. I think these boys have not treated me with proper respect. I was selected to give the opening or introductory address, and you see how it has been done.

Sammy. (In the audience.) We didn’t see very much of it. Don’t you think it would be well enough for you to retire and memorize your speech?

Frank. You boys out there had better keep silent and not create a disturbance. There is an officer in the house.

(Enter Willie Brown. He comes before Frank and commences to speak.)

“’Twas night! The stars were shrouded in a veil of mist; a clouded canopy o’erhung the world; the vivid lightnings flashed and shook their fiery darts upon the earth—”

Frank. (Speaking out.) I say, Willie Brown, what did you come here for? I haven’t finished the opening speech yet.

Willie. What’s the use of having an opening speech now? The exhibition is half over. (Continues his speech.)

“The deep-toned thunder rolled along the vaulted sky; the elements were in wild commotion; the storm-spirit howled in the air; the winds whistled; the hail-stones fell like leaden balls; the huge undulations of the ocean dashed upon the rock-bound shore; and torrents leaped from mountain tops; when the murderer sprang from his sleepless couch with vengeance on his brow—murder in his heart—and the fell instrument of destruction in his hand.”

Frank. Stop, I say. What kind of an exhibition will this be without an introductory speech? Stop, I say. We will be the laughing-stock of the country if we don’t open our exhibition with an introductory speech.

Johnny. (In the audience.) Oh, nobody cares for the introductory speech. Let the speech go and give us some dialogues and songs.

Willie. No dialogues and songs until I have finished my speech. This is my place on the programme. (Continues his speech. Frank comes and stands near him and they both speak at the same time, Willie giving the concluding portion of his speech and Frank commencing at the first of his Opening Speech and going as far as he had gone before. Willie should finish just before Frank commences to stammer.)

“The storm increased; the lightnings flashed with brighter glare; the thunder growled with deeper energy; the winds whistled with a wilder fury; the confusion of the hour was congenial to his soul, and the stormy passions which raged in his bosom. He clenched his weapon with a sterner grasp. A demoniac smile gathered on his lip; he grated his teeth; raised his arm; sprang with a yell of triumph upon his victim, and relentlessly killed—a mosquito!” (Bows and turns to go off. To Frank.) Stuck again, my boy? If we had waited for the opening speech we would not have got our exhibition opened for a week or ten days.

(Exit Willie.)

Johnny. (In the audience.) Well, we haven’t had that introductory speech yet, and I guess we are not going to get it. That was the queerest kind of speech I ever heard. It began, and then balked, and then kicked up, and then braced its feet in front, and finally stopped altogether. I think we would have done better if we had started without any introduction, just as grandpa said the other day he thought Parson Goodwin ought to have begun his sermon at the conclusion and left out all that went before it.

Frank. (Excitedly.) Hold on there! You say we don’t need any speech and yet you are making a long one yourself. You said that I hitched like a balky horse, but you have kicked up your heels and cantered off as if somebody had touched off a pack of fire-crackers under you.

(Enter Harry Thompson. He comes forward and speaks.)

Our parts are performed and our speeches are ended,

We are monarchs and courtiers and heroes no more;

To a much humbler station again we’ve descended,

And are now but the school-boys you’ve known us before.

Farewell then our greatness—’tis gone like a dream,

’Tis gone—but remembrance will often retrace

The indulgent applause which rewarded each theme,

And the heart-cheering smiles that enlivened each face.

We thank you! Our gratitude words cannot tell,

But deeply we feel it—to you it belongs;

With heartfelt emotion we bid you farewell,

And our feelings now thank you much more than our tongues.

We will strive to improve, since applauses thus cheer us,

That our juvenile efforts may gain your kind looks;

And we hope to convince you, the next time you hear us,

That praise has but sharpened our relish for books.

(Bows and turns to go off.) I have spoken the valedictory, and the exhibition is over. Ring down the curtain.

Frank. (Excitedly.) Stop! Hold! Don’t! I haven’t finished my speech yet.

Johnny. (In the audience.) You’ve given us enough for the present. You can finish it out next Christmas.

Harry. Ring down the curtain.

Frank. Stop! Don’t! Don’t! I want to speak my piece. (A bell is rung and the curtain falls.)

Frank. (Drawing the curtain aside and looking out.) Here’s a go! How are we going to get along without an Opening Speech? (Disappears.)

[Curtain.]