John—I am going round to the fire engine house, to see a noble young fireman, who is a warm friend of mine, and whose father is very rich, and I am sure he will cry when I tell him that my poor old father and mother are sick and hungry, and are about to be thrust into the street.
Mother (on the verge of despair)—Tell him our mournful story, Johnny, but do not beg. No, my Johnny, for God’s sake, don’t beg. Let us all die before we implore alms. Your mother is too proud to have her son descend to that. Don’t beg, Johnny, don’t beg, I implore you. It is my last prayer to my dear son.
John—I could not beg, mother. I would die before I would thus degrade myself and noble parents, who have seen fairer days than these. Besides, my friend is humane, and so are his parents, and I am sure I will not have to beg him to relieve us. It will be sufficient for him to learn of our destitution, and that we became utterly poor, because I would not tell lies for James Gordon Bennett.
Father—Go, my son, to your young fireman friend, and tell your story in your own way. I’m sure you will never degrade your father and mother, after your refusal to lie for Mr. Bennett.
Mother—Go, Johnny, and soon return to your distracted parents, and let them know their fate.
John (kissing his mother, and warmly pressing his father’s hand)—Good bye, father and mother, and I’ll soon bring you pleasing news, and a deliverance from abject penury. (He goes.)
Evening—Enter Landlord.
Landlord—Well, Mr. Kelly, have you got my rent?
Mr. Kelly—No, sir. My son has left Mr. Bennett, because he wanted him to tell lies.
Landlord—For what?