CHILDLESS HOME DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS Hy Charles Ketchum CHILDLESS HOME DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS Uy Charles Ketchiim FROM THE PRESS OF KINNEY PRINTING COMPANY SAN DIEGO, CALIF. f \"^^^' Copyright 19)3 by^Charles Ketchum TMP96-006530 OLD 3370U A CHILDLESS HOME All rights of "A Childless Home" are reserved by the author, from whom permission must be secured. CHARACTERS Silas Barton, Old Retired Gentleman. William Lawrence, Mature Man, son-in-law of Old Retired Gentleman. Henry Kamon, Husband to Niece of Old Retired Gentleman. Richard Rich, Gentleman Bachelor. Albert White, Philanthropist. Harold James, Young man, his brother-in-law. John Club, City Policeman. James Grass, Park Policeman. Sam Samp, Colored Servant. Sing, Chinese Servant. MiKO, Japanese Servant. Maymie Kamon, Society Lady, wife of Henry Kamon. Mrs. Spinks, Finished Society Lady. Louise Lawrence, Cousin to Maymie Kamon. Margaret White, Clairvoyant. Children, In plain costumes, five or more from six years up. One Japanese, or more ; one Chinese, or more ; one Hindoo, or more; one Mexican, or more; one Indian, or more ; one negro, or more. Supernumeraries, twelve or more, to appear in last act. SCENE PLOT Act I. Scene— Time, afternoon. Interior backing, a par- lor in middle-class house. Act II. Scene — A street adjoining a park. Time, early evening. Act III. Scene — Parlor well furnished. Interior backing. Time, early evening. Act IV. Scene — Plain parlor. Time, afternoon. SYNOPSIS Act 1. Drawing room of a New England home; ten years pxevious; sad parting. Act 2. On a street in California, early evening, present time. No place for children. Act 3. An aristocratic home in the evening, pres- ent time in California. Act 4. A home ten years in the future, no style, no poverty, in the afternoon. Time — Ten years previous in Act 1. Present time in Acts 2 and 3. Ten years in the future in Act 4. Location — Act 1, State of Maine ; Acts 2, 3, and 4, California. Time of Playing — Two Hours. COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS Silas Barton — Appears only in Act 1, an old re- spectable gentleman. William Lawrence — A nice appearing man, about twenty-five years old in Act 1. in Act 2 ten years older with good appearance. Henry Kamon — In Act 1, very swell appearance as a newly married man. In Act 3, a fashionable club man that cares for no one but himself. Richard Rich — In Act 2 only, a fine club man on his way to the club. Albert White — Philanthropist, appears in Act 4. Nice appearance, about forty. Harold James — Young man, about twenty, nice appearance, appears in Act 4. Sam Samp — Colored servant, appears in Act 3, plain dress, age about thirty. Sing — Chinese servant in Act 3 only. MiKO — Japanese servant, indoor costume, Act 3 only. Maymie Kamon — In Act 1 dressed as a bride, twenty years of age, going on a journey, very inno- cent, happy and nice appearing. In Act 3 every ap- pearance of style, but despondent to start with, but a reckless, boisterous one to finish. Mrs. Spink — Cold and conceitedly, very selfish, well dressed, in Act 3 only. Louise Lawrence — Act 1, young married woman, twenty years old, nice but not too well dressed. Act 2, nice appearance and a mother with a lot of children. Margaret White — In Act 4 only. In plain house- dress, wears fancy skull cap and has clairvoyant powers. All the following in Act 4 only : Japanese — A small man, dressed in military uni- form with sword, very dignified. If there are more Japanese they are to be plain military men. 6 Chinese — Well dressed in their costume and very important, if more they need not be so important. Hindoo — A tall man, fancy dressed in their costume with a big turban, if more they are to be plainer. Mexican — A vigorous character, dressed in old Mexican costume, with a big knife, if more to be less important. Negro — Dressed in some military costume, very im- portant in appearance, if more negroes they may be less important. Children — In Act 2, to be well dressed, but plain- ly, in summer costume, but very tired. In Act 4, about the same dress, but very happy. The characters to represent the remnant of the white race may be swell-dressed society people, men and women, dudes, cripples, old people, sporting men, with their costumes on and with golf sticks, foot- balls, baseball equipments and as many more imple- ments as may be wanted. One old soldier for rear guard with the flag tied up with a piece of crepe. PROPERTIES Act 1 — Furnishings of a good New England home, in the parlor, piano, of course. Act 2. — A piece of hose. Act 3. — Monkey, parrot, snake, poodle dog, guinea pig, cat, white mice, pug dog, etc., etc., bottles of drink, cigarettes, swords, boxing gloves, big wooden razor, two dummy heads, two pieces of board two feet wide and two feet long, two inches thick at one side and one-half inch at the other, so that the dummy heads will roll off when placed upon them and ap- pear still alive. A gallows on castors, with a dummy negro hung up. Act 4. — Skull cap, nice sounding bell, American flag, sporting men's equipments, balls, bats, football, golf sticks, bird cage, dog and cat. Gangway to steamship that the people go up in the last Act, when they start for Europe. A CHILDLESS HOME ACT I. SCENE — Laid at a time ten year previous. A country liorne on the Atlantic Coast, a young couple about to depart for the West from the lady^s home, where she tvas 'married, leaves a consist and her hushand, and an uncle, an old man. Uncle Silas. {Arising from an easy chair says), It is terrible to think that fellow from the Pacific Coast came, won and married my niece, and is now going to take her away where I may never see her again, away to a new life, a life of wealth, new con- ditions and thoughts. I hope for the best, but I am an old man and in my time things moved slow to what they do now and I have seen many and different kinds of changes for different people. What this fast future will bring forth to people individually or col- lectively, is a doubtful dream. Well, here they come now. I have no more time to soliloquize on events. {Parties come singing-. ''We are coming, we are coming, if will say we may.") l^NCLE Silas. Come right in, children. I am alone. May. Oh, Dear Uncle; don't look so blue. Uncle Silas. It is impossible to look otherwise when I feel so about loosing my little girl. May. But, Uncle, Henry is so good, and I love him so. We will be so happy, unless we think of you back here sad and lonesome-like, then we will be unhappy. Come now. Dear Uncle, please do not make us un- happy, will you? Uncle Silas. Oh ! you little lawyer, you could win any case. You are a care-free, bright, pure little soul, o'oodness will be wherever you are. 8 A CHILDLESS HOME May. That's a good, Dear Uncle. I will think of you so much and write so often. Henry wants to talk to you for a while so I will leave you and talk to Lou. Henry. Yes, Uncle, I want to tell you again of my respect and regard for you and your people, that I appreciate my wdfe so much, and consider her a gem of the purest ray. Uncle Silas. Very good, Henry, I wish you every happiness that mortal is entitled to, and that you and 3^our wdfe may have a long and loving life. Henry. Thank you. Uncle, and I hope we will deserve all you wish. In our home country everything is very cosmopolitan, but we will be very exclusive, and I have the wealth to supply many wants that go to make one happy, don't you think we ought to make life a success? Uncle Silas. I hope so, Henry, but w^ealth is all right, yet the greatest happiness the world ever knew had nothing to do with w^ealth in my time, but do not think, dear boy, I am giving you a lecture, for I never had but one lecture to give and that was to everybody, ' ' be good, ' ' for that is the only way to live. Henry. Yes, but so many have different ideas of good, how is one to know? Uncle Silas. Oh! they will find out at the end, if not before. Uncle Silas. Girls, may we have a little music to liven up the last moments of Henry and May with us ? (Pleasant songs, popular or otherwise follow.) Henry. We have stayed as long as we can, part- ing is hard, but I see no other way. We will bid Uncle good-bye, for he is not able to go and see us off. May. Dear Uncle, Good-bye ! Uncle Silas. God bless you, children ! Uncle Silas. (To audience) -. I hope their path will be ever smooth and not down hill, time wall tell. curtain. ACT 11. SCENE laid at the present time. A lady, plainly dressed, with three or more children cannot get lodging, starts to lay down in the street to rest, as the curtain rises a policeman comes and moves them. A park is next to the street and the lady attempts to go in the park and the park policeman drives her away. Police. What are you preparing to do now? Lady. I am making a bed in the street for my lit- tle ones so that they might sleep and get rest. Police. Well, stop it before you begin, and move on. Lady. Oh, please let us sleep here, no one will rent us a room or give us accommodations, they all seem so afraid of children, they would let me in, but they cannot tolerate children. Police. You can not stay here, that's all there is to it. I have strict orders not to allow the street to be blocked. Lady. But we will not interfere with traffic, and will take up no more room than we can possibly help. Police. No, you won't, my orders, I know my or- ders and I will obey orders, and those children are out after hours. Lady. Take us to the station, then, we will have shelter. Police. No, I won't, and you can't sleep here, either. Lady. That is a predicament ; we can not stay out nor can we get in. Police. Here comee a gentleman, I will refer your case to him. (Police says:) Good evening, Sir, here is a lady in trouble, could you give her any advice ? Richard Rich. (A gentleman.) What is it, my kind lady, I may be able to help you. 10 A CHILDLESS HOME Lady. I hope you can {gentleman starts to offer money.) No, we do not need your money, we are not beggars. I can not find a place in the city where they will take me and my children in. Richard Rich. Ah, yes, the children, people do object to children, they are a little out of my line. I may not be able to help you. Lady. What, have you no children ? Richard Rich. No, Lady, I am a respectable bachelor. Lady. Allow me the honor of shaking hands with a respectable bachelor. Richard Rich. But, mind you, I was not under oath when I said ''I was respectable." Lady. No, that is so, it might have made no dif- ference if you were. Richard Rich. Tut, tut, tut, Lady, I see you are too severe in your respect and opinions of gentlemen and society. Lady. No, if I was all opinions, done nothing but form opinions, and, they were harder than diamonds, they would not do justice to many so-called gentle- men and much of society, and as for respecting many, many of them any one who aspires to a pure mind, body and soul never thinks of that. Richard Rich. (It is too much for him, he goes aivay shaking hands and head.) Police. Well, you bluffed him off, but you won't get rid of me so easy. Lady. No, I know your size. Here is $5 to arrest us for blocking the traffic, disturbing the peace, burg- lary, arson, murder, or any charge you prefer to put against us. Police. What, what, what, a bribe to get in jail, I never had such an experience before, are you not aware it is a serious offense for an officer to accept a bribe ? Lady. Yes, if it is not big enough or you get found out. A CHILDLESS HOME 1 1 Police. Yes, to get down to business, I could not take you to jail, it would be my finish; you see the inmates of the jail must have consideration, the law, society, the whole public, owes them a debt. There is, for instance, the poor tramp who leaves the road for a rest, the unlucky burglar or highwayman, bigamist, absconders, embezzlers, many from our best society, of the land must not have their peace of mind dis- turbed by children, and then there is murderers row, all the ladies who care to bring them flowers and pre- sents, would be shocked if they saw children. Lady. You have consideration for every one but children. I will stay right here until I can get in some place. Police. Don't try it. Lady, because if I have to I will have the Fire Department, Garbage Wagons and all the City 's Automobiles, and they have a string that reaches from First Street to Twenty-fifth Street, come along here and run over you and you will be flattened as thin as a pancake, and if there is enough of you left you will get in somewhere, in the Morgue, Cemetery or Newspapers. Lady. You are as brutal as some of the best so- ciety. Come, children, we will go in the Park. Park Police. No, you don't come in here, get right out of here. Keep off the grass. No one is al- lowed in the Park at night. Lady. Be human, man, you have heard and seen what a position we are in, please let us rest here, my children are tired out. (Sohs.) Park Police. Why do you have children, then? Lady. Is it a crime to have children? Park Police. No, Lady, that is our rulers have never made a law to that effect, but it is an unwritten lav\' of a great many that it is a terrible thing to have chidren, but if it was a crime many of our best so- ciety people would not be liable ; it is not the fashion and why should you persist in being out of style ? Lady. Because it is God's law! If you are human vou will understand that. If you are as good as the 12 A CHILDLESS HOME brutes of the field you will understand it is nature's law, even the trees and flowers live not in vain, but love life and give life, look at the beautiful flowers in blossom, and trees in leaf bearing seed, and enjoy the beauties of nature and you think mankind should be inferior to the beasts of the field or vegetation ! Park Police. Well, you will get out of here if I have to turn the hose on you, go before you get a wetting. {Lady's Husband comes.) Lady. Oh ! William, have you found a place where we may go? Husband. No, dear, there is one resort left, that is go and see your cousin, and if she will not take you in we will take a ship to Australia where our race and children are welcome. Lady. What! leave our country? (Sobs.) Husband. No, Dear, our country has left us, and I hope they may never regret it. CURTAIN, 13 ACT III. SCENE laid at the present time. An elegant drawing room, with a wing off containing pets, the more the better, parrot, poodle dog, pug dog, cat, snake, guinea pig, monkey, etc. A man and wife, Henry and May, ten years after marriage. Henry. The family all seem to be feeling pretty goodj does the Doctor come often to see them? May. (Seated despondent like.) He is here every day and says they are all perfectly well. Henry. I think that I will have to get a trainer for Jocko, he is getting quite cross, he bit at me and I believe if he could have got hold of me he would tried to eat me up. May. Yes, I noticed he was getting cross and I spoke to the Doctor about it. Henry. What did he say was the cause of his vicious nature ? JMay. Oh, nothing much, only high living and no occupation. Henry. And Polly, she used to be such a nice spoken-kind of a bird and now her language is some- thing awful, how has she learned it? May. She has not been out of the house since she came. Henry. The snake is a beauty, I think a lot of him and it is really too bad I have not found a name for him yet, I have been wanting to name him after some great personality, but I can not decide who to give the honor to. xAfter a little silence.) Why are you so quiet this evening, May? i\lAY. I had a from Cousin Lou some time ago stating that Uncle was dead and they had a large family of children and that conditions were bad for children there now, and they were coming to this coast for the benefit of the children. 14 A CHILDLESS HOME Henry. She will think she. is out of her element when she gets here. ::::'; May. I did not answer her leiter, and today I re- ceived a telegram that she would arrive in this city today and told me the train she was coming on, so that if I cared I could meet her, I did not go, I did not dare, coward that I am, afraid of a child for fear that the innocence of the children, with their deep perception, could see no good in me and would be afraid of me ; to think that I would ever fail to reach out a welcome to my dear cousin that is all good- ness. I reared by her father and would have been in want, only for their care, their home was opened to me when I was a little orphan girl and such a happy home, the innocence of our childhood. {After a little pause.) Henry, you know all children are largely good and it seems a pity so many lose their innocent ways when they become grown and strong, if they retained their goodness when they got their strength the world would surely be worth living in. Henry. You are too much of a philosopher for me when you get to talking like that, and it is out of date, any way. You done right in not bringing your cousin here with a pack of kids. I hate kids. Henry. {Looking at his watch.) Oh! My it is getting late and I have an appointment at the club. May. I thought you was going to stay at home with me to-night. PIenry. I promised some friends that I would sure be down to-night and it would not do to disap- point them. Now, dear, don't be lonesome, amuse yourself any way you like for I will be detained, you know a gentleman must have his social chums if he wants to stay in the swim. May. Yes, you are detained so much, I see so lit- tle of you that I fear that I am not much to you, that if I was no more you would not miss me, that no one, much, would miss me. Henry. Noav, I do not like to see you that way, think of all you have to make you happy and tell me A CHILDLESS HOME 15 of any thing money can buy that will make you happy and you shall have it. May. Yes, money bought happiness, you are good that way, forgive me for boring you. For you and I know we are just as we are and what we are sup- posed to be to fill the high station in life that our wealth permits us to occupy, but do please forgive me if I do chafe under the Wrden of being a society lady. Henry. Certainly, little girl, you will come around all right; now there is Mrs. Spinks, she is the one to cure you of the blues and help you on in aristocratic ways. Now, Dearie, I must go, ta, ta. May. Good-bye, Dear! (Walks to one side.) That is a fine excuse of a man and husband, cold as ice, just called me ''dear" once and months has passed since he done that much. I might as well get as reck- less and worthless as him, and I will have to or I will go mad. So here goes, I will telephone for Mrs. Spinks and we will have high jinks (telephones) . Is that you, Mrs. Spinks, can you come over? Hub was home and has gone for an indefinite period and I think I will take your advice and cut loose, let the world go, it is all a muddle anyhow, it is set for a bust and we might as well hurry it up. (Rings one hell. Sing comes.) Sing, Mrs. Spinks is coming. (Sing brings in bottles of liquor, May takes two drinks then rings tivo bells and Miko comes.) Miko, ]Mrs. Spinks is coming. (Miko bows and brings in a big package of cigarettes and a light; May lights one and smokes, then rings three bells and Sam comes.) Sam. Going to have high jinks, I will bet. May. Sam, Mrs. Spinks is coming and we must not be disturbed. I am at home to no one, you un- derstand ? Have a drink, Sam ! Sam. I sure does, Miss. You just do look sweet. (Comes nearer admiringly.) IMay. Now, be a good boy and go and watch that we are not surprised. Mrs. Spinks will soon be here and we will ring for you after awhile. 16 A CHILDLESS HOME Sam. You won't disappoint me, will you. May. No, Sam, good boy, we will ring. Oh, come right in IMrs. Spinks, it did not take you long to get here. i\lRS. Spinks. Yes, dear, I came as quick as I could. You have been feeling bad, but w^e will have some fun now. {May pours out two glasses of liquor, they both drink and then smoke.) Did you have a spat with your husband? May. No, we never row, a being like him hasn't force enough in his nature to row with anyone, or rule himself or any one else a little bit, so how could you row with him or respect him? Mrs. Spink. My dear, it is not necessary to respect him to have a good time, you would be surprised to know how many ladies do not love or respect their husbands, and when you get initiated you will enjoy life if your husband comes through with the coin. May. I expect I will, but it has been a hard strug- gle for me so far. T had ideals, the name "man" used to have great significance to me; I thought the one I would call my own would be higher than the brute creation, that he would command me and I could respect him. Mrs. Spinks. You are getting too deep, take a drink and learn to forget it. {Both drink.) May. That is what I want to go under your care for, is to forget it. ]\Irs. Spinks. Yes, but you will have to love some- body or some thing, don't you think you love your husband ? I\Iay. Not much now. If I dare to speak of any- thing that is not base and vulgar, I am getting too religious, if I ever get fond of him, I am getting too sentimental. He has driven all that was good out of my^ nature. But if I want to rule him, to gratify any vanity, he is like putty in my hands, the man whom a woman can love must rule and deserve respect. Oh ! forget it, it is a dry subject ; take a drink. A CHILDLESS HOME 17 Mrs. Spinks. You might love some of your hus- band's pets, he calls them part of the family. May. No, it would need humans to claim my af- fection yet for awhile. Mrs. Spinks. Well, there is the servants, Sing, Miko, and Sam. May. (Laughs.) Ah! The dear boys, don't men- tion it. Hub is good in getting me such servants, he can't make love to them and I can, he calls them boys, but I think they are men, we are too rich to be respect- able. Oh, Hub is a sport, he told me before I ever side-stepped; Go it, old girl, it is a race we are matched and mated, two of a kind. He does not care and what right has he, for where is he now and what do I care? May. (To Sam.) What is it Sam? Sam. a lady with a lot of children is out in the street, and I told her you were not at home and she said you would be if I told you it was your cousin Lou and her children. J\Iay. Oh, oh oh, Mrs. Spink, what will I do. Mrs. Spinks. You are not at home, of course, stick to it. ^Iay. Sam, tell the lady I am not at home, to think it would ever come to this. Mrs. Spinks. Cheer up, dear, face it bravely ! May. Cowardly, you mean, but face it I will. (Both quiet, May feels had.) What is it now, Sam? Sam. They are real nice children mam, and the lady said if you was her Cousin ]\Iay you would re- ceive her, that no one will give her shelter, and they will not allow her to rest in the street. ]\Iay. Tell her I am not her Cousin May, that it is ridiculous and out of style to have children, that none of my relations ever had any children. (May takes it hard, Mrs. Spi7iks gives her a drink.) There, I feel better now, it would not do to let my cousin and her children in here. ]\fRS. Spinks. No. it is not likely they are in our sta- tion in life. 18 A CHILDLESS HOME May. It is not likely they are, but 1 wish I was in their station in life, they have noble thoughts and honest toil, kindly words and friendly smile. That is what makes life worth while. Oh, what I am, what might have been, if I had an infant of my own, so that I could have looked in its little eyes and seen the way to heaven, to seen it smile at me and know there was one in this world that had real, honest love for me, or if it was sick tenderness or love might grow in me while I was nursing it back to health and I would have to forget myself. Mrs. Spinks. Please listen to me (co)nmandingly) . May. What is it, then? {pauses a little). Mrs. Spinks. I came over to cheer you up and I am going to do it. You are here with nothing to trouble you, so don't borrow trouble, see? May. Yes. Mrs. Spinks. Take a drink then and be a lady. Cheer up, you are of the upper ten, enjoy life, don't think of the sad if the bad is good, let us be happy and gay, for we are creatures of little use and quite a lot in the way. May. You are quite a philosopher. You are right, every thing is set for a bust and you might as well try to bale the Pacific Ocean with teaspoon as to try and prevent it. Mrs. Spinks. That's what I want to impress on you is, why be serious? Leave that to the common people, we are able to have a good time and do as we please ; seek amusement where it may be found. Now who do you think is the prettiest of your servants? (JoJdngly.) May. {Laughs.) I know, you want to know wlio I love the most, don't you? Mrs. Spinks. That's not fair, you answer ray ques- tion by asking another, but I realy would like to know your favorite, so I might know who was left for me to smile on. May. If that is what is bothering you. take your choice, I am not hard to please. A CHILDLESS HOME 19 Mrs. Spinks. I see, you love your husband better than any servant yet. May. {Angrily.) I refute the charge, a reflection on my good judgment. I'm not wasting any affec- tion on a moral, mental and physical weakling, whose wealth has produced vanity, the parent of all evils, vice, degradation and crime. I challenge you for a duel for your bad opinion of me, choose your weapon! {She readies for a sword.) Mrs. Spinks. Do I have to fight ? May. Most decidedly, yes ! Mrs. Spinks. These will do, they won't hurt so bad. {Boxing gloves, May wins after a short bout.) May. You had enough? Mrs. Spinks. Yes, you are the best man. May. Shake, and let's have a drink. Mrs. Spinks. Gee ! I am hungry. May. Say, you mongolian beauties, are we ever going to have any supper? {Rings — Sing comes.) May. How about something to eat? Sing. Yes. Missis supper leady. May. Bring Miko, ladies like an escort to supper. (Mrs. Spink and May are pretty drunk, Sing takes one and Miko the other and goes into the dining room. Orchestra starts to play a little and Sam comes. Music stops.) Sam. {Comes in pretty cross.) Dey am flown. I didn't hear my bell, if it had been rung I sure would have heard it, ah, tell you, something would have been doing. Tell you I ain't going to stand it. {Pulls out an enormoiis large razor.) Dease Asiatics taking all the work away from the American people, don't give a poor culed man a show, I is wild. {Listens at dining-room door.) I's just going in dar. {He goes in and there is a terrible racket and screams. It is quiet for a while and then Sam comes out with Miko and Singes heads and throws them on the floor.) Well, I done gone and done it. {Takes a big drink. .Puts heads doivn and they start to roll.) Say, there, will I have to kill you again? Well, this is a fine place, 20 A CHILDLESS HOME all nice aristocratics live along this row, not a chick of a child to disturb anything or muss it up and make a disturbance. (The heads on the floor moves at same time and Sam says:) Lay still there, will I have to kill you again? Well, if I do swing for it and go to hell, ah will meet a lot of nice aristocratic people (takes another drink). When I drink that Chinese whiskey it makes me sleepy, so I think I will take a little repose after this recreation. (Sam lays down to sleep a moment or two, lights are lowered and a gallows is pushed on to the stage with a negro hanging, and a Japanese on one side and a Chinaman on the other side as spirits. Sam juynps up in fright.) Oh, good Lord, sabe me, sabe me. Oh, good devil sabe me (great fright) save dis nigger. CURTAIN. 21 ACT IV. SCENE laid ten years later. A good respectable par- lor, not too richly furnished; a married lady, named Margaret, taking a siesta. Some one rings repeat- edly and comes in. It is a young man of nice ap- pearance, he ivalks up to the couch and lays his hand on the lady's head and the lady does not awake, he walks away and says-. She must be seeing a vision. After a few seconds Margaret awakes .and set us saying : Oh, brother, I am so glad you came, Harold. And I am glad I am here, but it is too bad to disturb your siesta. Margaret. Don't mention it, you know you are always welcome. Were you here long before I knew? Harold. Not a great while. Where is Albert and the children? Margaret. Albert is working, and the children went to the Park for the afternoon. Children are like people, they must have healthy amusements and oc- cupations and then they are little trouble. But, oh, Harold! I had such a strange vision just before you came. Harold. What was it about, sister? Margaret. It was about the dark past when con- ditions were such that only the bad qualities of man- kind were brought out. It was in the age of Greed for Wealth when financial gluttens ceased to enjoy life and would allow no one else to and selfishness and vanity w^as all that was of importance to many. Race suicide became the style, and only for the great awak- ening that took place our fair country, and all the generations of toil it took to make it, would have been lost to the white race. Harold. Would you please produce the vision for me? 22 A CHILDLESS HOME Margaret. I will produce that portion tiiat is good for you to see, the last part that our country would have come to had they not come to their senses. (Harold lays on the couch, Margaret puts her cap 071 his head, the lights lower a little and Margaret strikes some sweet sounding little hells and a mixed troupe comes on the stage, Mexicans, Indians, Hin- doos, Chinese, Negro and Japanese in general uni- form and sword.) Japanese. Fellow citizens, now that we are master of this country what will we do with the remnants of a once powerful, energetic and proud nation, they gave themselves over to pleasure and dwelt carelessly. Had they family pride and enjoyed seeing vigorous children around their fireside, had they patriotism, honor and less graft, had their conceit not made them stupid or insane, what has happened and is going to happen today, would not have taken place, there gentlemen, give me your opinions. Chinaman, {steps out) They hath preached the doctrine of the survival of the fittest, they hath ba?bled, the earth is his that will make the best of it. Ah, when it is taken home to ones self it comes with sorry welcome to those who have the misfortune to live to see where they were beat in the race, so let us end it by pulling out their tongues by the roots so that they will tell no more lies. Indian {steps out). When my race was crowded westward by the strong pale face, we stopped at times, sometimes to their sorrow, but more times to our sor- row. Ever onward toward the setting sun we were forced to go, but a small voice told us that as the penlulum of a clock swings so far past the center, sometimes it would have to swing back, and swing back very suddenly if new life w^as not added suf- ficiently or that life not up to the proper standard, that time has come so let us take off their scalps like my forefathers and hang them to our belt for an ornament, and leave the coyote to eat the body. Hindoo {steps out). They have looked upon us as A CHILDLESS HOME 23 inferior beings, men of my race wlio have countless generations of civilization and reincarnation of many great men, we with our great numbers were tied with a few weak strings and did not know our weak- ness until the unfortunates we now have captives showed us their weakness, so let us blind their eyes with red hot irons and let them go forth that they may wander on and think many times before death relieves them of their miseries. Mexican {steps out). Might is not right. I have often heard the white race say, but in practice it does not always prove out that way. We were foolish, they were wise, we were weak, they were strong, but in forgetting the secret of that strength the tables turn, the home, the fireside, that great source of strength, fails to get that new life, the nation weakens like a field of grain blighted {draws a big knife). Let us cut off their heads, so we may have their skulls for ornaments and the vultures may pick their bones. Negro {steps out). There is little more that can be said if it is, it will be sad. When the lion draws his own teeth and breaks off his claws he is easy con- quered. When waters cease to come down the stream, the old mill wheel stops, a peaceful, reposeful, but powerless condition. It can stand for awhile on the merits of its past deed, but they are poor strength to combat the live forces that will arise against it, so, therefore, let us make slaves of them like they did of my race, have them hoe the corn, pick the cotton, drive the mules and shine our boots. Japanese. Very good, gentlemen, no two can agree. I will decide the question, and as you know now, many wise men could see a long time ago that when my nation would speak, the world would think. Be not too hard, gentlemen, we are strong and power- ful today, as they were once and history tells us many more before them were great, back toward the rising sun, step by step, each step representing a great na- tion. Rome, Greece, Macedonia, Jerusalem, Assyria, Babylon, Egypt, and many others, to the first scribe 24 A CHILDLESS HOME we have any knowledge of, each in their turn power- ful, and they conquered themselves by bad conditions that grew up among them. They claim to be of the European race, we will load them on a ship and send them to Europe and let their race see what a nation can come to that has no young manhood to defend it. Banzi. Negro. That's right, let them race right back to Europe, it am no longer a question if this is a white man's country. Chinaman. Open their prison gates and drive them aboard the ship. {Oldens gates and drives a lot of old people, crip- ples, dudes, hall players with pets in their arms, and an old soldier with the flag done up with a piece of crepe arouiid it. They march up a gang plank, the lights get very low and colored, races leave, and lights are turned on fidl force. Harold comes to.) Margaret. What do you think of it? Harold. Isn't it good, it is only a dream? Albert White {comes in) Good evening, Harold. (and Margaret greets him afectionately.) Harold, {greets Albert kindly). Good evening. Albert. Been practising black art? Harold. Yes, for a white purpose. Margaret. Wliat kept you so late, Albert? Albert. I was looking for trouble. You see we have arrived at a condition nearly perfect, as far as one individual wronging another, it is nearly past. I had an ad. in the paper for any one in trouble and I could find none, every one is enjoying life as far as human power can make it. {Children comes in and is welcomed hy Albert, Margaret and Harold.) Albert. Did you have a good time this afternoon, children? {Little girl) We had such a splendid time, singing and playing games and running races. {Small hoy speaks up) And we had such lot of good things to eat too. A CHILDLESS HOME 25 ]\1argaret. Was there many children there? {Large girl) Oh, there was thousands of girls. {Boy) There were more boys than girls. {Larger girl) How do you know, did you count them? {Boy) No, I didn't if 1 had it would have took a month, but there was the Boy Scouts, Navy Boys, Industrials, all the grades ])oth big and small and many more. {Larger girl) I think there was more girls than boys, because our teacher tells us there is more women than men. I be- lieve the reason why is, they are more of a success than men. {Boy) She is bound to have the last word. {Larger girl) And, oh! the babies at the baby show, nearly every woman in the city had a baby there and they all took a prize, and each mother took two prizes. {Another girl) All the boys and girls pledged themselves that they would grow up good, and be useful men and women. Harold. Who won the prize for the most patriotic speech this afternoon, Willie. Willie. {Points) Bert did. Albert. Show us the prize, Bert, and tell us what you said? Bert. {Goes out and gets a nice flag and says:) This is the prize, and what I said was, give the com- mon people's children a show, and there would al- ways be some one to defend Old Glory. In all nations at all times there has been people of a non-progressive nature, who, though not always of a malicious nature were a detriment to humanity. Our duty to human- ity, both present and future, requires us to improve our standard in all lines, then as a nation we can consider we are advancing in wealth, for the only time when a nation is great is when it is composed of people of the proper standard, but when it starts on the downward grade it is on the road to oblivion. Justice that is justice, liberty in reality as well as name, a proper understanding as who we are, and what our duty to our nation is, will be a true solution to any troubles that are or may arise. CURTAIN. JUL O VM UIBRftRV OF CONGRESS HI 016 103 512 9