Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

ENLISTED FOR THE WAR.

THE AMATEUR DRAMA SERIES.

THE
EXHIBITION DRAMA:
COMPRISING
DRAMA, COMEDY, AND FARCE,
TOGETHER WITH
DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENTS,
FOR
PRIVATE THEATRICALS, HOME REPRESENTATIONS, HOLIDAY AND
SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS.

BY

GEORGE M. BAKER,

Author of "Amateur Dramas," "The Mimic Stage," "The Social Stage,"

"The Drawing-Room Stage," "Temperance Dramas," "A Baker's

Dozen," "Humorous Dialogues," "Running to Waste,"

&c.

ILLUSTRATED.

BOSTON:

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.

NEW YORK:

LEE, SHEPARD, & DILLINGHAM.

1875.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by

GEORGE M. BAKER,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Boston:

Rand, Avery, & Co., Stereotypers and Printers.

PREFACE.

In the preparation of "The Exhibition Drama," the author has endeavored to present as great a variety as in the previous volumes of this series, and to comply, as far as possible, with the requests of numerous correspondents. Thus "Enlisted for the War" was written in response to a demand for something, based on the late civil war, which should meet the requirements of various Posts of the G. A. R. The musical allegories, "The Visions of Freedom," and "The Tournament of Idylcourt," were prepared for the graduating-class in a Boston grammar-school, and are of the same general character as those previously issued. The Christmas entertainment, and the dramatization of Dickens's "Christmas Carol," have both been successfully performed at sabbath-school entertainments. These, as well as the allegories, are plentifully supplied with tableaux, easily represented, and are adapted to the wants of many occasional exhibitions.

That "Amateur Dramas" are successful, the appearance of a fifth volume is convincing testimony. In addition to this, the warm commendations of the press, frequent testimonials from public teachers, and last, though not least, a steadily increasing demand for the old as well as the new, convince the author that he is honorably catering to a healthy appetite for innocent and wholesome recreation.

G. M. B.

207 West Springfield Street, Boston.

CONTENTS.

All the above are published separately, and can be obtained of Lee &

Shepard, Publishers, Boston. Price 15 cts. each.

ENLISTED FOR THE WAR;
OR,
THE HOME-GUARD.

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.

Also a complete two-act drama, by omitting the second

act, and two characters.

CHARACTERS.

Robert Trueworth, a Soldier of the Union.

Wilder Rowell, Guardian of Gaylie Gifford.

Hosea Jenks, Auctioneer.

Hiram Jenks, his Son, "a mere boy."

Crimp, Colored.

Gen. Grant.

Lieut.-Col. Boxer.

Gaylie Gifford, an Heiress.

Mrs. Trueworth, Robert's Mother.

Mattie Trueworth, Robert's Sister.

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.

NEVER SAY DIE.

CHARACTERS.

Mr. Simon Graylock.

Mr. Ralph Cheeny.

John Bounce, Mr. Graylock's coachman.

Mrs. Graylock.

Miss Alice Chase.

Patty Pert, Mrs. Graylock's maid.

COSTUMES MODERN AND APPROPRIATE.

Scene.—Handsome apartment in the house of Mr. Graylock. Table, C., red cloth. A study-lamp burning. Books and papers. Lounge, R. Arm-chair, L. Chairs R. and L. of table. Patty Pert seated in arm-chair with a book.

Patty (reading). "At the sound of that voice musically voluminous as the sighing of the October gale in the lofty branches of mountain hemlocks, Araminta Augusta Violetta sprang to her feet, and, dashing the embroidery-frame to the floor with a crash that shook the ancient edifice, gave one terrific, yet ecstatic scream of joy, and sank fainting into the arms of her own fond Felix Frederick Freelove." Oh! isn't that splendid? Oh! why wasn't I born in those barbaric days, when knights and squires, and milk-white steeds, and high-born ladies, pranced about, like the grand entry of a magnificent circus? Oh! why wasn't I a barbarian? And such love-making! (Reads.) "Beauteous damsel, with eyes of azure blue, hear, oh, hear the vow of your own true knight! I will cleave yonder mountain from summit to base with one blow of my trusty cimeter, ere one tear of grief shall find its way adown thy gently-arching nose:" oh, beautiful, beautiful! There are no barons now. Who ever hears such language as that in these plebeian times? Even old Mr. Graylock, fond as he is of his young wife, never allows his ecstasy to rise above the utterance of "My dear, you're looking well, remarkably well." And Mrs. Graylock has nothing more romantic on the end of her tongue than, "Hubby, don't be gone long. I do get so sleepy when you're away!" Oh, the world's degenerating! there's not the least doubt of it. There's John Bounce, who tries to make love to me; and precious bad business he makes of it too, forever dropping his h's, and sticking them where they don't belong. I'm determined to reform him, or he shall bounce about the world without a wife, though, as he says, his 'art his given to me halone. (Enter Bounce R.) Bounce. 'Illo, Patty! hall by yourself, 'ay? Where's the master and missus? Patty. Still at table, Mr. Bounce, daintily toying with the dessert of their luxurious repast.

[Exit R.

[Exit, R., followed by Alice.

[Exit R.

[Exit R.

[Exit R.

[Exit Patty R.

John Bounce and Patty, R. Mr. and Mrs. G., C.

Ralph and Alice, L. Curtain.

THE CHAMPION OF HER SEX.

THE CHAMPION OF HER SEX.

(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)

CHARACTERS.

COSTUMES MODERN AND APPROPRIATE.

Scene.—Apartment in Mrs. Duplex's house. Lounge, L.; two chairs, R.; table with writing-materials, and an easy-chair, C.

Mrs. H. (outside, R.) Don't tell me, yeou imperdent thing! Clear out, I tell yeou! Maggie (outside, R.) Faix! not for the likes av yez, at all, at all. Mrs. H. (outside, R.). Yeou won't, hay? We'll see about it. (Enter Maggie, R., followed by Mrs. H., brandishing a broom.) Maggie. Aisy, Mrs. Hartshorn, or it's yersilf will be sent to coort for salt and bathery, sure. Mrs. H. Don't care! If I'm sent to prison for life, I mean to have my orders obeyed. Maggie. Faix, an' it's not yersilf is the lady of the house, at all, at all. Mrs. H. Don't make no difference. Yeou take that broom, and sweep out my room, and be quick about it! Maggie. It's warning I'll give to onct the misthress cooms, Mrs. Hartshorn. Faix! there's a power of work in the house, and a heap of misthresses to order about—bad luck to 'em! Niver mind, I'll swape the room; an', if ye find any thing broke, it's not the fault av Maggie Donovan. (Aside.) Only jist I'll—I'll have one good crack at her chiny vases, so I will.

[Exit L.

[Exit, R.

[Exit, R.

"Take it up tenderly,

Fashioned so slenderly,

It's fickle and frail."

[Exit, R.

[Exit, R.

[Exit, R.

[Exit, R.

[Exit, R.

"Is this a dagger which I see before me?"

"In the lexicon of youth, which Fate preserves for a bright manhood,

There's no such word as fail!"

"Off with his head! So much for Buckingham."

"Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!"

Situations.

Caroline. Florence.

Rhoda. Mrs. D.

Pollie. Mrs. H.

Katie. Maggie.

R. L.

Curtain.

THE VISIONS OF FREEDOM.

A NATIONAL ALLEGORY.

CHARACTERS.

Gloria, Goddess of Freedom.

Rubina, her Counsellor of War.

Serena, her Counsellor of Peace.

Queen Mab of Dreamland.

Drowsa, Oblivia, Somna, Sootha, Dream-Spirits.

Art, Industry, Music, Plenty, Serena's Attendants.

Revenge, Discord, Cruelty, Hatred, Rubina's Attendants.

Action supposed to have occurred in Dreamland. Green bank, C. Behind this a small platform about six inches high; chorus seated R. and L. of stage.

Opening Chorus; air, "The Quiet Night."

Slumber o'er earth is sending

Its realm of sweet repose:

The stream of life, rest-tending,

In peace through Dreamland flows;

Where waiting and caressing,

With varied visions blessing,

Dream spirits vigils keep;

Dream spirits vigils keep;

Their vigils keep, their vigils keep.

(As the chorus closes, enter R., Drowsa and Oblivia; L., Somna and Sootha; then R., Queen Mab, who stands C.)

Q. Mab. Spirits of Dreamland, once again we meet,
Our round of nightly revel to repeat.
O'er earth, when locked in sleep's warm, close embrace,
Since time began, the genius of our race
Has had the power fearlessly to sway
The visionary sceptre all obey.
The mighty monarch, who, with tyrant frown,
Upholds the burden of his weighty crown;
The fierce-browed warrior who relentless slays,
And, bathed in blood, his vows to Moloch pays;
Haughty and lowly, powerful and weak,—
Under mysterious spells our guidance seek.
Sweet sister spirits, Dreamland opens wide;
Yet justice guards it well on every side.
Over the pure we rosy visions throw:
Around the base a sea of troubles flow.
Ere forth you glide to ply your happy arts,
Your queen would learn the secrets of your hearts;
Who hie to sport, with mischievous intent,
And who on graver ministries are bent. Sootha. I've an old miser under watchful care,
With sordid soul, of generous impulse bare;
Who nightly feasts, with avaricious eyes,
Where treasured gold in rare profusion lies;
Who revels o'er his fast-increasing store,
Chuckles with glee, yet wistful sighs for more;
Starvation's image, in a den so bare,
It seems a fit abode for dark despair.
Into his sleep I glide, disturb his rest,
Rattle his treasure, till, with fear possessed,
As frightful visions thick and thicker press,
He trembling wakes, his idol to caress. Oblivia. Fair queen, a toiling student I enchain,
And with my art refresh his weary brain:
Up wisdom's heights I lead him by the hand,
And show him visions of the promised land;
Fair fields of learning spread before his gaze,
For him the realm of science set ablaze,
Ope Fame's grand temple, Honor's scroll unroll,
And tell the triumphs of the trusting soul,
Till hope re-animates the wasting fire
With earnest zeal and conquering desire. Somna. I guard a trusting maiden, young and fair,
Whom Love has tangled in his silken snare;
Spread rosy dreams amid her sleeping hours,
And lead her captive through a land of flowers;
Adorn her hero with true manly pride,
And of the future ope the portal wide,
While smiles of pleasure o'er her sweet face creep,
And blissful words betray her secret deep.
With rare delight her day-dreams I repeat,
And make her young life's round of love complete. Drowsa. Oh, I've a task, fair queen, will love secure.
Last night I visited with visions pure
A weary mother, who, for many a day,
Watched o'er the cradle where her dear babe lay
Wasting with fever, till the unseen Hand
Took it in kindness to a better land.
Long has she mourned its loss, with wakeful eyes,
Fast-falling tears, low, sad, and bitter cries.
Last night she slept; and then, in vision's charms,
I crept, and laid her babe within her arms.
Content she rested, with a smile so sweet,
I go to-night this comfort to repeat. Q. Mab. Your zeal, industrious spirits, we applaud:
Your chosen missions meet with full accord;
Yet for this night we have a task so grand,
Your queen would all your energies command. Somna. We wait your pleasure, Oblivia. All our arts employ; Drowsa. Set us what tasks you will, Sootha. We'll serve with joy. Q. Mab. Thanks, sisters! To our confidence draw near,
And list our secret with attentive ear.
Freedom's fair goddess, Gloria, in doubt,
Her fair Republic, restless roams about,
Seeking a talisman to life prolong,
And make her youthful charge wax brave and strong.
Close at her side Rubina, crafty maid,
Whose fire-lit eyes gloat over war's dread trade,
Plies her bold speech, unchecked by fear of frown,
Counselling deeds of conquest and renown;
While calm Serena, long to Peace allied,
Whose gentle influence stretches far and wide,
Recounts the glories of a land at rest,
With sterling Industry's rich harvests blest.
Wavering betwixt the gentle and the bold,
By turns rebellious, and by turns controlled,
Poor Gloria wanders long, in dire distress
Which counsellor to choose her realm to bless.
Old custom gives to us prophetic power
To guide by vision in the trying hour.
And so to-night, o'er Gloria's doubting heart,
Fair sister spirits, we will ply our art,
Lure her to Dreamland, and in phantom light
Illume her path, and guide her to the right.
Stand close! she comes! the light winds bear along
The martial burden of her triumph song.

[Retire, and form behind bank.

Chorus; air, "Love of Country."

Blest is the land where Freedom rears,

'Neath heaven's blue, arching dome,

For labor's sons of every clime,

Her proud and happy home.

Beyond the reach of tyrant rule,

Free are the hands we raise:

Onward we move, with joyous song

Of thankfulness and praise.

Blest is the land, &c.

(Enter L., Gloria, attended by Rubina and Serena,

followed by Attendants.)

Song; air, "Oh, come ye into the summer woods:"

Queen Mab and Dream-Spirits.

Oh, sink you into soft slumber's arms!

There dwelleth no annoy;

There freely rove the Dreamland sprites,

And sweet rest is full of joy.

Song continued.

We'll spread for you, in phantom light,

That plainly you may know,

The woes of dreadful warfare,

The joys from peace that flow.

Oh! sink you, &c.

(Takes crown from Gloria's head.)

Tableau. The crowning of War.

Chorus; air, "Soldier's Chorus."

Semi-chorus.

Semi-chorus.

Chorus.

Song: Queen Mab and Dream-Spirits; air, "The

Image of the Rose."

Come, Sleep, on drowsy pinions flying,

Fair Gloria lull to sweet repose.

The land of dreams around her lying,

To charm her senses, brightly glows.

There peaceful visions, soft, entrancing,

In changeful measures sport and play.

Sleep, by thy magic power advancing,

Within thy arms bear her away.

Magical sleep, bear her, bear her, oh, bear her away!

(Enter Rubina, R., and her Attendants.)

(Gloria rises quickly, steps between, and snatches the

crown from Rubina's head.)

(Serena stands near C.)

Tableau. The crowning of Peace.

On thee, O Freedom, grand and great!

In confidence we lean,

Our land to bless, with fond caress

Of happiness serene.

To hail thy crowning, gentle Peace,

Let music joyous soar;

While harvests wave, and blessings lave

Thy realm from shore to shore.

Repeat. Curtain.

THE MERRY CHRISTMAS
OF THE
OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE.

CHARACTERS.

The Old Woman who lived in a Shoe.

Santa Claus, disguised as a Beggar.

Ten or twelve Children, Boys and Girls of various ages.

Scene.—The exterior of "Copper Toe Shoe House,"

which is set at back of platform.

Chorus (invisible); air, "Revolutionary Tea" (p. [194],

"Golden Wreath").

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe;

Of children she had a score:

So many had she, to know what to do

Was a question which puzzled her sore.

(Head of Child appears at 1.)

To some she gave broth without any bread;

But never contented were they,

Till she whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed,

And then very happy were they,

And then very happy were they.

(Head appears at 2.)

"Now, mother, dear mother," the young ones would cry,

As they dropped off with a nod,

"To train up a child in the way to go,

O mother, dear, ne'er spare the rod.

(Child's head appears at 3.)

For broth without bread is a watery waste;

And never contented are we,

Till with your good stick it is thickened to taste;

(Three heads appear at 4.)

And then, oh, how happy are we!

And then, oh, how happy are we!"

Enter Old Woman, R. Her costume, bodice, quilted petticoat, sugar-loaf hat, high-heeled shoes, and cane.

O. W. Aha! (Heads disappear quick.)
Good gracious! can't I leave the house a minute,
But what a head's at every window in it?
Don't let me see the tip of a single nose;
For, if you do, we'll surely come to blows.
Poor dears! they want the air. Well, that is cheap
And strengthening; for they live on air and sleep.
Food is so high, and work is so unstiddy,
Life's really wearing on this poor old widdy.

FRONT VIEW OF COPPER TOE SHOE HOUSE.

1. Split in the Heel.

2. Patch on the best Corn.

3. Copper Toe.

4. Lookout, or Observatory at top of House.

(Heads appear, one after the other, as before.)

Song: Old Woman; air, "Comin' through the Rye."

If a widdy's with her biddies,

Living in a shoe,

If a widdy's work unstiddies,

What'll widdy do?

(Heads appear as before.)

Every mother loves her biddies;

Many a one have I;

But where get gifts to fill their fists,

When I've no gold to buy?

Aha! (Heads disappear quick.)

There is a sprite oft comes this night,

Whom children love full well;

But what's his name, and where's his hame,

He does not always tell.

(Heads appear as before.)

Lads and lassies know good Santa,

With presents not a few;

Would he were here, my chicks to cheer,

Living in a shoe!

(Disappears behind shoe.)

Song: Santa Claus; air, "Them blessed Roomatics."

(Heads appear as before.)

(Heads disappear.)

Song: Children, outside; air, "Oh, dear, what can

the matter be?"

Oh, dear, what can the matter be?

Dear, dear, what can the matter be?

Oh, dear, what can the matter be?

Somebody's groaning out there!

A hungry old beggar has come here to tease us,

By grinding an organ he knows will not please us.

He hopes it may bring him a handful of pennies,

To buy him a loaf of brown bread.

(Children scamper behind shoe.)

Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,

Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,

Oh, you sha'n't be hungry now,

Down at Copper Toe Shoe.

Cold potato—tato,

Cold potato—tato,

Cold pota—to,

Down at Copper Toe Shoe.