NO PLAYS EXCHANGED 'Baker's Edition ST PL71Y3 a The Pride of Company G COPYRIGHT, 1S89, CY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. piays for /Amateur Sfyeatrieals. BY GEORGE 7V^. BKKER, Autlior of " Amateur Dramas" "The Mimic Stage" "The Social Stage" "The Drawing- Room Stage'' "Handy Dramas," "The Exhibition Dramas" "A Baker's Dozen" etc. Titles hi tliis Type are Ne^r Plnys. Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays. DRAMAS. Iti Fojir A cts. Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female char. In Three A cts. our F'tllcs. 6 male, 5 female char. The Flower of the Family. 5 male, 3 female char Em isted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- male char My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- male char. . . . Th* JAttie llrown tiny. 5 male, 3 female char. ......... In Two A cts. Above the Cloud*. 7 male, 3 female char. One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 4 female char Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female char Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female char . . Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female char • Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. The L,ast L,oaf. 5 male, 3 female char. In One A ct. .stand by the Fi.ag. 5 male char. . . The Tempter. 3 male, 1 female char. COMEDIES AND FARCES. A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 male, 3 female char Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 3 female char. . , A Drop too MncJi. 4 male, % female :har A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- male char. „ A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 female char Never ^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female' char. Thk Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- male char • " • Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 4 male, 3 female char t We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- male char Male Characters Only. A Close Shave, ft char. ...... A. Public Benefactor. 6 char. . . . A Sea of Troubles. 8 char. .... COMEDIES, etc., continued. Male Characters Only. A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . Coals of Fire. 6 char. . . . , . . 'Freedom of the Press. S char. . . . Shall Our Mother* Yot«-? 11 char. Gentlemen of thk Jury. 12 char. . . Humors of the Strike. 8 char. . . . My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . . New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. The Great Elixir. 9 char The Hypochondriac. 3 char lhe Man with the Demijohn. 4 char • The Runaways. 4 char The Thief of Time. 6 char Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . . • Female Characters Only. A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char A Precious Pickle. 6 char No Cure No Pay, 7 char The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. The Gkbcian Bend. 7 char The Red Chignon. 6 char. Using the Weed. 7 char ALLEGORIES. A rrangedfor Mttsic and Tableaux. Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female char. . . . o Thb Revolt of the Bees. 9 female char o The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- male char. .......... The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- male char. . .* . The War of the Roses. 8 female char. The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. An Original Idea, i male, r female Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, i female char . Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet Restored. 3 male, 1 female char. Santa Claus' Frolics. Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave, and the Fair Imogene. 3 maie, 1 female char. '. The Merry Christmas of the Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe. . . . The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male char. ...... The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- ment. Numerous male and female char. Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. The Visions of Freedom, i i female char. . . ■. WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St., Boston. THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G OR THE VOLUNTEERS % 55® ar ©rama in Qfytzt 3cis BYV DAVID HILL AUTHOR OF "FORCED TO THE WAR," " OUT OF HIS SPHERE," " PLACER GOLD, *' BOUND BY AN OATH," " THE GRANGER," " JOINING THE TINPANITES," ETC. THIS 'BOOK IS THE PROPERTY OF ) (rfff)** to whom the right to perform the play has been given by the author. It is not published, but printed as manuscript only, and all parties are hereby cautioned not to attempt its production on the stage without due authority from the author's agents, WALTER H. BAKER & CO., No. 23 Winter Street, Boston, Mass. CHARACTERS JOHN BOSWORTH FRANK BOSWORTH AMASA NOGOOD PARSON GOODWINK BARNEY RYAN TOM DICKSON JOE | JIM / FIRST SOLDIER SECOND SOLDIER HESTER NOGOOD GRATIA GOODWINK BRIDGET McFLING An Old Soldier His Son, and Captain of Co. G The Hunchback . A Superannuated Minister The Brave Irishman — in a horn . . A Hero in Disguise . Two Urchins Mother of the " Hunchback " Daughter of Parson Goodxvink . A Girl of All Work Soldiers, Musicians, Crowd, etc. Copyright, 1892, by Walter H. Baker & Co. T HP96 ^0Q6^ 3 SYNOPSIS. ACT I. — A village common. Interview between Barney and Bridget. "O Barney, are yeez going to the war?" The stolen kiss. Dickson kills a mosquito. Why he didn't enlist. " What's the use of steppin 1 in t' a bear-trap, an' losin 1 a foot, when you kin step over it." John Bosworth and the parson. The parson's bravery. " I declare ! I believe at this moment I could fire a mus- ket myself." The volunteer company short one man. The hunch- back. " Company G wants no cripples." Amasa pleads his own case. " Better to be hunchbacked and brave, than an Apollo and a coward." He shows his strength and superior marksmanship. Refused. The volunteers. How Dickson joined Company G. Gratia and Amasa. Frank Bosworth, the captain of Company G. Amasa's request and how it was accepted. " Now shall it be known that I, the hunchbacked, the discarded, the pitied and unfortunate, can be of service to my country." ACT II. — A Union camp. " Say, fellers, what's the penalty for being a skulker?" Barney an arrant coward. Dickson a brave soldier. Tough yarns. John Bosworth, Parson Goodwink, Gratia, and Mrs. Nogood visit the camp. More yarns. "A soldier with- out a joke is like a gun without a trigger." Barney gets a letter. The parson's opinion of soldiers. "I declare! I never realized be- fore how rude a soldier can be." Something up. " Fall in, Com- pany G. Fall in ! " How the parson made himself fierce. The battle. John Bosworth excited. "Egad! give me a regiment of weeping soldiers and I'll conquer an army." The advance and re- treat. Death of the color-bearers. Amasa supports the flag. Dick- son to the front, followed by Amasa and Frank Bosworth. Fall of the rebel flag. How Amasa unfurled the stars and stripes over the rebel ramparts. Shot. "He throws up his arms — he totters — he is falling backward." Return of the soldiers. " Make room for the hero ! Make room for Amasa Nogood ! " Amasa brought in upon a litter, and covered with the U.S. flag. John Bosworth speaks. "With another company to organize, I'd accept men of your mould if they were crooked as the bow of heaven." Act closes with tableau. ACT III. — The village lawn. John Bosworth and the parson. " I would strongly advocate that war be conducted without blood- shed if possible." — "Egad! a warfare conducted without blood- shed would be a novelty, that's a fact." The baked ox. Barney and Bridget. Return of Company G. The grand ovation. Joe and 4 SYNOPSIS. Jim. Whose father was the bravest. " My dad had seventeen bullets shot through his coat in the fust battle." — "So did mine. 'N'e he killed four rebels arter his arm wus shot off." A rough-and- tumble fight. Joe and the tramp. How Amasa died in Libby Prison. The decorated seat. The tramp an object of suspicion. "Egad! why didn't you enlist?" Refused. Why? "I was de- formed." General excitement. "Man, stand up. My God! the grave has yielded up its dead. This weak, tottering, emaciated skeleton is Amasa Nogood." A grand termination. Act closes With : THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER. THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. ACT I. Scene. — A landscape back representing piece of open ground, or common, with wings to match. A sutler's tent l. 3 E., sur- rounded with boxes, barrels, bottles, etc. Barney a?nong them placing things in order as curtain rises. Barney. Shure it's knives and forks, camp kettles, tin coffee- cups, axes, and double blankets that's dumped here by the cart-load, and me own swate self to look afther the whole kit and caboodle. Not a cint paid for it aythur, and the goods a-rolling in loike dollars into the hands of a ticket-seller at a big circus. Och ! it's a moighty quare proceeding, Oi kin tell yeez. Here it's meself what's running a sutler's tent loike a free show ; for, d'ye moind, there's not a cint comes over the counter. Everything free as spring wather, and given by as noble a class of men as iver graced the soil of a north- ern republic. (Looking off R.) By me sowl ! here comes me own swate Bridget. Look at her now, the swate craychure ! coming to wape tears for her poor Barney what's going to die a soldier — if he can't kape back in the rear. Bridget {enters lie., and crosses to tent) . O Barney, are yeez going to the war? Bar. Yes, Bridget ; Oi'm going to die foighting for the nagurs. Bridget. I can niver stand it to have yeez leave me, Barney. But yeez do look fine in them soldier's clothes now, sure enough. Bar. Oi'm glad to hear yeez say that, me darlint ; and, by me sowl Oi kin say the same by your own swate self. Bridget. O Barney ! I'm not dressed in soldier's clothes at all, at all. Bar. Och ! but it's your faychurs of which Oi'm spaking. By me sowl ! yeez are a second Vanus — so far as the Vanus is discern- ible. Oi wouldn't moind kissing of yeez for fear of what moight happen. Bridget {pushing him back) . Go away wid ye ! The soldiers might see yeez. Bar. Divil take the soldiers when they step between me and a kiss. Yeez kin see thim across the field there, preparing to drill 5 6 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. under the command of our young captain, Frank Bosworth, God bless him ! Can yeez see thim, me darlint? {She shades her eyes and looks off C. R.) Bridget. Yis, I can see them — (Barney steals up behind and kisses her. She slaps hi?n in the face.} Take that, wid my compliments. Bar. {retreats l. holding on to his face). O Bridget! Bridget! it's kilt Oi am entoirly. Think of your poor Barney dead and cold upon the field of battle wid nothing to ate — Bridget {coming toward hint) . O Barney, I didn't mean it. Bar. {continumg). And the bullets whistling around him — Bridget. O Barney ! Barney ! Bar. And no one to whisper a tinder word into his listening ear. Bridget. Barney, yeez can kiss me again if yeez have a mind to. Bar. Begorra! Oi'd be a fool if Oi didn't. {Kisses her.*) Shure, that is as swate as nectar in a bowl of punch. Now sit down, me darlint, and Oi'll tell yeez all about the volunteers, and a beautiful set of boys they are, too, Oi kin tell yeez. {They sit on box in front of tent.) Bridget. Yeez are self-concaited, Barney. Bar. Self-concaited, is it? Shure, don't Oi know ivery one of thim to begintlemen? Begorra ! Oi'm one of thim meself. Well, yeez recollect John Bosworth, the father of our young captain? Bridget. Can I forget him, Barney? Blustering and bragging as he always is, and talking about charging, and firing, and skir- mishing, and " stand-up-and-take-your-physic," till I dream of swords and guns the whole night long. . Bar. Arrah ! he's a brave man, is Bosworth, and no mishtake. He's fit wid the Mexicans and Injins, and now, being so ould he can't foight, he started a paper for a company of volunteers, wid the result that nointy-noine have attached their names, including me own beautiful self. Bridget. And how many is wanted, Barney? (Tom Dickson enters unperceived l. 3 e., back of tent. He is dressed in citizen 's clothes, looks shiftless, and is whittling stick. He seats himself upon box down stage unnoticed, and continues whit- tling.) Bar. Jist one more would make the thing complayte ; but rake the whole country over, and they fail to foind the hundredth man. Bridget. And why don't they take Amasa Nogood? Bar. Shure, his deformity kapes him out. Wouldn't his hump- back spoil the alignment whin the young captain called " atten- tion," " eyes right " or "left?" Ivery man of Company G is as perfect as a king's body-guard. Oh, it's too bad! too bad ! for Amasa is a good lad, so he is. Bridget. Yis, and a good shot, too, and quick and strong, if THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 7 he is hunchbacked. But the soldiers are all yonder. Why are you not with thim, Barney? Bar. Shure, wasn't Oi appointed to guard this stuff? Didn't Parson Goodwink start out w-id orders from the captain to buy what the company naded, and divil a cint would anybody take? Didn't they hand him back his bills reeayted, and thin haul the boxes here until they resimbled a small mountain? Shure Oi'm a sutler, or commissary sargent, or something loike that, anyhow. Bridget. Whin do yeez start for the South, Barney? Bar. In the morning by first train. Yeez may niver see me again, Bridget. Bridget. Don't mintion it, Barney. Keep in the rear, and dodge the bullets. Bar. Arrah ! Company G has no stragglers. If Oi'm foind in the rear it will be for a raysun. {Aside.) And Oi'll foind a raysun if Oi have to take physic. {Aloud.) Now, me darlint, jhust an- other shot from the battery of your swate lips before the inimy takes possession of the fort. Bridget. Are yeez asking for another kiss, Barney? Bar. Shure and Oi was that, and in the language of a soldier. How did yeez guess it so aisily? {Putting his ami around her.) Are yeez willing, me darlint? The brave boys are not looking, God bless 'em ! no, they're not. Bridget {bashfully) . Yeez can do as you have a moind, Barney. Bar. Do yeez mane that, Bridget? Thin Oi'll unite me forces and engage the inimy at close quarters. {Starts to kiss her.) Dickson {striking box sharp blow witfi board which he has been whittling) . Bang ! Bridget ) ,. , 7 , • , N f Oh ! Bar. \ (together -jumpingup) . £ Hdy gt patrick , what , s up? Dick. Another muskeeter squelched, that's all. Blast 'em! they'd chaw a man up quicker'n a tramp a plug o' t'backer. Bridget. Shure I thought a battle had started. Bar. {sorrowfully). Begorra ! Oi'm thinking the battle is ended, and widout a shot being fired, aythur. Dick. Musketeers here, though, ain't nuthin' compared t' 'em in Alaska. Why, look a-here. {Crosses one leg over the other, and motions with his hands.) Hitch a dog t 1 a tree in eny part of thet infernal kentry, an' th' muskeeters '11 eat 'm up 'n less 'n twenty mi nits. Yes, sir-ee clean t' th' rope. Make reg'lar spoon vittles of 'em, too, an' sigh fer more. Durned ef they wouldn't stack 'em- selves up like haycocks so's t' shed th' water when it rained ! Never associate 'ith an Alaska muskeeter unless you've got cheek. Bar. Begorra ! Oi should say the less cheek a man had the betther. Say ! did yeez iver see the mosquitoes we have in ould Ireland? Dick. Can't say's I ever did. Bar. Well, sor, they're jhust loike thim in Alaska, wid this 8 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. addition. Hitch the same dorg to a tree over there, and they'd ate him clean to the rope, and thin ate the rope to digest the dorg. That's jhust the difference, ye see. Dick. Shake. {They shake hands.') Durned ef thet suit don't make you look as purty as a pink. Say ! why don't you fellers wait till you're drafted, instead o' rootin' your heads inter danger afore you're obleeged t'. Bar. Shure, and didn't the ould captain want a company of volunteers ? And hasn't he got thim, too, as noble a set of boys as iver handled a musket? Oi'm one of thim, your honor. The company is complate wid jhust the exception of one man. Bridget. Mr. Dickson should make the hundredth man, Barney. He would look foine dressed up in soldier's clothes all trimmed with brass buttons. Bar. Begorra! he'd ruther sit on a fence and whittle, loike a Maine Yankee. Jhust the "spatt!" or " w-e-e-e-e-p ! " of a bullet would turn him white as a shate, and make him shake until ivery tooth drapped out of his head. Dick. Ya-as ; an' while I wus shiverin' an' shakin' like a beech leaf in a March wind, an' facin' th' enemy, you'd be scootin' fer th' rear et a double quick. Give me a shakin' hero t' a braggin' coward every day in th' week. Bar. If yeez are so brave why don't yeez join the volunteers? Shure, yeez have been asked toims enough. Dick. Well, I refuse fer prudential reasons. D'yr think I want t' stand as target fer a rebel battery fer th' sake o' havin' my remains gathered up in a bushel basket? I ain't so doggoned foolish. Bar. Thin get a permit to remain in camp, play checkers, draw back pay, and be forgotten by the War Department. Begorra ! Oi'm thinking it would suit yeez betther thin charging bayonets wid the inimy in front. Dick. It ud be more preferable t' shovelin' dirt, or shiverin' 'ith ague on a Cairo bottom, I'll admit. I say, let well enough alone. There's time enough t' digest hard tack an' cold lead when you're obleeged t 1 . What's th' use, I say, of steppin' inter a bear-trap, an' losin' a foot, when you kin step over it — hey? It's too much like followin' th' example o' Solomon Fearful when his neighbor's children hed th' small-pox. Bar. Shure, and how was that ? Dick. Well, Solomon Fearful hed seven children, as healthy as cubs, an 7 as bright as pewter buttons. Somehow, ef eny kind o' malaria or contagious disease swept over th' kentry, it jest left Fearful's children alone, an' gobbled up all th' rest. In this way they hed escaped th' itch, measles, mumps, yaller-fever an' canker- rash, an' ud have knocked the spots out of small-pox but fer th' durndest bit o' foolishness Fearful ever did. , Bar. Shure, and what did Fearful do? Dick. Well, jest as th' disease wus a whooperin' around th' hardest, an' wus a-takin off about every two out o' five it attacked, THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 9 Fearful grew scairt, an' says t' his wife, says he, "Maria, we're booked this time, fersartin. Now I reckon we'd better waxinate th' hull lot, an' by so doin 1 , avoid a terrible catastrophe. 11 So they got a hunk o 1 virus an 1 went at it. Bridget. And what was the result? Dick. Four o 1 th 1 children died 'ith varioloid, an 1 tother three wus sick fer six months. {Enter l. i e., John Bosworth, Parson Goodwink, Gratia, Hester Nogood, and others. The ladies pass up r. u. e. and look off-) Bosworth {pointing off R. u. e.). There they are! there they are ! as noble a company of boys as ever stood shoulder to shoulder, or drank out of the same canteen. I am proud of them. Proud, I say, that such noble specimens of manhood should be willing to sacrifice themselves in the defence of their country. Parson. Yes — yes; and the generosity that was displayed by the public. No one refusing. Everybody furnishing something. Stockings, kettles, cups, knives, blankets, and no end to the list. Look at the barrels and boxes all loaded even to their utmost capa- city. Ah, it shows generosity ! 'Tis the milk of human kindness, Bosworth. Bos. Egad! it shows mettle — mettle, I say. The fathers of our country were full of it ; and our children are only chips of the old block. Bar. (r. i e. with Bridget). Begorra! if the war continues, some of the children will carry as much metal as their fathers, Oi'm thinking meself. Dick. Ya-as ; an' it'll double 'em up wus than takin 1 a cathartic pill. Bos. {pointing to Dickson). Gad! there is the laggard. Look at him ! The man without enthusiasm or ambition. A being with- out the electrical thrills that constitute a hero in the hour of battle. Dick. Look a-here, Bosworth, I kinder appreciate your compli- ments, an' my modesty forbids me makin 1 a flowery reply. IT1 admit I ain't th' right kind o' peanut fer a fight, an' that I'd make a better general than common soldier. Bos. Better general than soldier? Egad! how do you make that out? Dick. Well, a general could stand behind some knoll an' send out his commands through an orderly, while th' soldier done tli' fightin'. Th' knoll ud stop th' bullets, ye know. Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! what do you know of the duties appertaining to a general ? Dick. Not but a thunderin' little ; but I kinder reckon ef every man wus a soldier, an' a hero et thet, th' rest of th' world ud fare mighty slim. Talkin' about every man's bein' a soldier, puts me in mind of a story. Gratia {coming down). If Dickson has got a s"tory to tell, I 10 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. want to hear it. {The ladies draw up around Dickson, and seat themselves on boxes.) Bos. A story-teller is an abomination, unless it is around a camp- fire. {Crosses to r. u. e. with Parson Goodwink and others. They look off at soldiers.} Bar. Come, Bridget, let's join the crowd. {They cross stage an d seat themselves near l. i e.) Gratia. Now, Dickson, give us the story. Dick. Well, once on a time this airth wus peopled 'ith a race o' bein's whose ekals fer bravery had never been excelled. Each man wus a Hercules in strength, an 1 each one on 'em wus proud of his own skill an 1 prowess. In battle no man showed th' white feather, an' no battle wus finished until one or both sides hed been exterminated. Now — let's see ; did I say thet every man on airth wus a soldier an' a hero? Gratia. You uttered those remarks, I believe. Dick. Then I lied. There wus one man who wus an ekal t' th' others in build an' intelligence, but an arrant coward ; an' because he wus a coward, he wus hated by th' brave men of his own race. At last a great dispute arose, over which th' people of th' hull world wus ekally divided ; an' as they couldn't settle th' thing by arbitra- tion, et wus decided t' bring it t' an issue in one decisive battle, in which every man wus t' engage. Gratia. The coward too ? Dick. No ; he wern't counted as a man, ye see. So he hid in a huge cavern up on th' mountain-side, an', creepin' t' th' openin', watched th' progress of th' battle through a spy-glass. Th' soldiers cut an' slashed, charged bayonets, threw bombs an' battle-axes, an' carved each other t' th' tune of " Yankee Doodle," an' made th' dust fly like a chinook off f'rm Pine Ridge. It wus dog eat dog until th' last man wus finished. In fact, there wern't a single male representative left alive on airth but th' coward up there in th' cavern. Gratia. And what did he do? Dick. Well, arter he found out there weren't eny partic'lar danger in bein' scalped ef he issued f'rm his retreat, he jest waltzed down inter th' valley an' tuk possession of th' world, accordin t' martial law. Now who panned out th' wisest, th' live coward, or th' dead heroes — say? Bar. Begorra ! Oi'm thinking the man was no coward at all, at alf. He naded courage to live. Gratia. Why do you think so, Barney? Bar. Shure, wasn't the men all dead but himself? And wasn't the ladies all left aloive? And wouldn't they all be afther the last man loike a lot of foragers afther a fat rooster ? And wouldn't it want a moighty soight of courage to shtand it ? Gratia. Umph ! All women are not so man-smitten as you think. Bar. Well, Oi moight belave that same of yourself, if yeez did THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. I I not gaze so often at our young captain over yender. When Oi see that — Gratia {turning away) . There, Barney, that will do. Bos. Look! look! (All turn down c, and look off.) There are the brave boys forming into line. How their uniforms glitter ! How their muskets glisten in the sun ! Heavens ! I can hear the old-time commands : " Face ! Right shoulder shift — Arms ! For- ward — March ! Left — left — left — left ! " {Marches across stage to l., and back. Amasa enters and remains L. i. e. He has long rifle, upon which Jie leans.) Why, parson, don't it send the blood surging through your veins until you feel young again? Par. {rubbing his hands). It does make me feel a little fierce, I must confess. Bos. Fierce? Egad! lam full of it. With martial music at my heels, I could dash into the heat of battle with all the impetu- osity of youth. Infirmities would be forgotten. I could shout the old-time battle-cry, and wield the sword and musket with the brav- est. There's music in the clash and clamor of battle, parson, glorious music. Par. (moving about excitedly) . I declare ! I never realized I was so brave. Bos. See the tumultuous advance of contending forces ! Hear the booming of cannon, the roar of musketry, the shrieking of bullets, and crash of bursting shells ! Hear the wild cheers as some barrier is broken! Ha! above all, through dust and grime and smoke, is the old flag, the glorious stars and stripes, ever first and foremost in line. Don't it fill you with inspiration? Don't it make you think of country — duty — glory ? Par. It does, my dear Bosworth, it certainly does. Dear me ! I believe at this moment I could fire a musket myself. Surely we hardly realize our own bravery until it is suddenly developed through some sudden and extraordinary event. {Looking off c.) I declare ! they are pointing their muskets this way. {Jumps behind Bos- worth quickly.) Bar. Arrah ! fasten the dorg and yeez are moighty brave ; but break the chain and, r-r-r-r-rp ! {Aside.) Oi know how it is meself. {Aloud.) Thim muskets only hould blank catridges, sor. Gratia. I think if father was in actual battle his bravery would suddenly diminish. Even now he is startled at the sight of an empty gun. Par. But, my dear child, bravery should be exercised with great caution. When recklessly displayed, thereby resulting in a useless exposure to life and limb, it lowers itself into a sense of bravado, which to me has suicidal intentions ; but exercised at the proper moment, with caution at the helm, and it resolves itself into that loftier and more honored term called — heroism. Bravery and caution are identical, and one is a necessary adjunct to the other. Bar. And yeez belaves in cultivating the latter fhirst. {Aside.) Oi'm of the same moind meself. 12 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Mrs. N. Have you got your company completed, Mr. Bosworth ? Bos. Lacks one man. That cipher on the box {points to Dickson) is the one wanted. Egad ! that such a form should hold so little vitality. Less public enthusiasm beating in his breast than in the breast of a Mexican greaser. Less by one-half. Par. It does seem strange that the energies of any man can long lie dormant when the public safety of their country is threat- ened. Bos. Dormant ? Egad ! his energies are worse than dormant. They are withered — dried up — dead. A whole broadside of elo- quence charged with Grecian and Roman victories would leave him unmoved. He is dead, literally dead. A manikin of a man gifted with speech and existing upon a faint spark of animation. Egad ! it seems impossible. Dick, (with a drawl). Ex-Parson Whitley, gifted 'ith eloquence an' near-sighted, a crank on morality an 1 low dresses, went t' Boston once t 1 convert th' city. Arter wastin' a heap o' eloquence on a young lady who wern't more nor harF-dressed, an' makin' no impres- sion, he examined her more closely, an' found he wus talkin' t' a wax figure. I kinder reckon t' Bosworth I must be more nor haff wax. Bos. Putty, sir ; putty, and poor at that. A soldier in looks, if well uniformed, but without the qualifications of a fighter. Damme, sir ! if I don't hope they'll pin you at the first draft. Dick. I might find a substitute if they did. Say ! I reckon I kin find you your hundredth man now. Bos. Where is he? Every spare man in the country. has volun- teered but yourself. Show me the hundredth man. Dick, (points to Amasa l. i e.). He stands there. An' he ain't only possessed 'ith grit an' good fightin' qualities, but he kin shoot straighter than eny man in your hull company. Bos. No doubt about that ; but Company G wants no cripples. His gun-drill is perfect, and his courage is excellent. I might say, superb. Enough ! I refuse him because he is a cripple. Amasa. Not a cripple, sir; but deformed. Can a cripple run, jump, swim, wrestle, and perform gymnastics? I can do all of those things. I am no cripple, sir. Bos. Very well ; call it deformed, then. No fault of yours ; but it prevents you from joining the command. Our volunteers must be perfect — every one of them. They are not drafted men; we give them. See? Our gift must represent perfection. Bar. A foiner company of soldiers was niver born. Oi'm one of thim, your honor. Amasa. The bullet from one gun should be as good as the bul- let from another ; and he who aims true and hits the mark is more to be feared than a dozen men whose bullets are sent at random. Mrs. N. The height of his ambition is to serve his country. He dwells upon it by day, and at night he talks about it in his sleep. THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 1 3 Bos. Yes, yes ; but he should quench the desire. He is not a proper subject for the field. The army requires perfect men. Amasa (sadly). The crippled and deformed are of no good anywhere. If they can fight, let them ; and His a friendly bullet from an enemy's gun that takes them off. Par. My son, no man was born in vain. Each has a destiny to fulfil, whether in a high capacity or a low. If unfit for soldiers ourselves, it is a blessing to know we can be of assistance to those who can fight. Amasa. Parson, am I unfit for a soldier ? They refuse me because my back is humped. Better be humpbacked and brave, than an Apollo and a coward. Par. Yes ; but, my dear boy, you would never endure the priva- tions of an army life. Amasa. Who can endure hardships better than I? Am I a weakling? No ; my muscles are of iron. Show me the man to tire me in a race ! Strength ? I'll challenge singly any man in the whole company to compete their strength against mine. See here ! {Lifts imitation barrel of flour, and holds it above his head.) Can a weak man do this ? {Sets barrel down.) Notice! {Turns somer- sault.) Can a cripple do that? Watch! (Goes through manual of arms.) Am I a novice with the musket? Look! (Points off R. c.) See the dead limb on that maple? To it would be sixty rods by actual measurement. Watch! (Aims rifle off c. R. and fires.) See it fall ? Could I not drop an enemy with the same skill? Courage? I leave it with you to decide whether I am a coward or not. (Goes / Bar. Shure, and was you iver in battle, sor ? Par. I must admit, literally speaking, I was not ; but my sym- pathy has followed those connected with battles, or have inclined in that direction quite frequently. Bar. Begorra! so have moine ; and it's much swater to be there in sympathy thin to be there meself. Just thry it, sor. Par. I hardly think it will be necessary. In fact, my profession is adverse to such things, even were I favorably inclined. Had I enlisted in my youth, however, it is possible that I might have developed into a model soldier. Bar. Yis, you moight, sor. It's safer to be a model soldier thin a rale one. Oi'm of the same moind meself, sor. Par. Do you not consider yourself highly honored by being a soldier ? Bar. Yeez may call it honor, sor, if being killed, buried unwept and unknown wid a slab over your grave and a number on it, kin make it ; but Oi want none of it meself. Par. Then you actually admit that you were not in the engage- ment we have just witnessed ? Bar. Oi thought Oi was there, until the ould captain said Oi wasn't ; now Oi hardly know, sor. Par. Well, well, it does seem strange how the excitement of war will turn the brains of the most intelligent. So excited do men become as to actually forget whether they have been in battle, or at the time were hidden away in some secure retreat. {Going down stage.) It does seem strange — wonderfully strange. Bar. '{watching him off. Aside, angrily). Divil take him! what does he know about a foight, anyhow? Shure, does he think Oi'll risk me own neck for that of a nagur's ? Oi'm not so foolish as that. It's a could day whin Barney Ryan protects the Union in front of an inimy wid loaded guns. {Goes to l. arid seats himself near fi re.) Bos. {looking off). The brave boys are returning; at least a portion of them. We will soon learn the result of the engagement. THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 35 Mrs. N. And whether my poor boy is living or dead. There is work in store for me; but before going, I would learn his fate. If permitted, I would seek him out upon the held. Gratia. Fear not, Mrs. Nogood. Your son, if alive, will be tenderly cared for. No man would be left neglected after perform- ing an act like that which Amasa has performed to-day. Even now the litter-bearers have begun their mournful task. Mrs. N. Then I must hasten away at once. (Starts l.) Gratia (detaining her) . Wait ! a soldier of Company G is returning. Let us hear his report. (Enter Second Soldier from r. 3 e. He is without coat or hat, and looks dusty and tired.) Bos. (grasping his hand). Egad! you are one of the boys. One to be proud of. You've got the grit — the mettle — the smell of powder about you. Gad ! a typical soldier of Company G. Par. (trying to grasp left hand with which Soldier is holding gun). Yes; you are one of the boys. As Brother Bosworth has intimated, you've got the sand. Indeed, it is a pleasure to grasp you by the hand, though I must admit that an application of soap and water would make them more presentable. Bar. (aside). They kin soft-soap and water him all they have a moind. Oi want none of it meself. Mrs. N. Can you inform me of the fate of my poor boy? Is he alive or dead ? Second S. Well, when I get command of the floor, 111 explain. I was hurried forward by Captain Bosworth to inform you that he was safe, and would return soon as convenient. Amasa is alive; but badly wounded. That boy is a hero, if God ever made one ! Mrs. N. Are they taking good care of him ? Second S. Care of him ? Well, I should say they was. He's the idol of the day. No man at this moment stands higher in the estimation o 1 soldiers, or them as holds the positions o' command, than Amasa Nogood. He's won a reputation that'll stick to him like a nail to a plank. Gratia. What have they done with him? Second S. Bringing him this way. They are taking him by a path that ain't so pesky rough as the open fields.' Captain Bosworth and Dickson are with him. D'ye know that Dickson is a trump? To hear him talk you'd call him the greatest coward on earth. He was the first man to leap the rebel breastworks. Bos. A coward in camp, a hero in battle. I've said it before. How was the fight beyond the hills? Second S. The enemy was driven back, sir. It was a sharp fight while it lasted; but I'm thinking the main battle is yet to be fought. (Perceiving Barney.) How in thunder did you get here? Bar. The same way as yourself; wid me feet, sor. 36 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Second S. Were you in the fight ? Bar. Oi was in the most of it, sor; wid the exception of what Oi wasn't in. Bos. Egad ! he's a disgrace to Company G. I called Dickson a calf, when — damme! he was a lion. I got the two mixed up. This is the calf here. He never saw the battle; he was a skulker, sir. Bar. {aside). The much that Oi did see was too much for me faylings whoile it lasted. {Shouts off R . gradually growing nearer) . Par. {looking off r. Others look off) . Here they come ! Here they come ! The young captain is leading them directly toward this locality. Bos. {rubbing his hands joy f idly). A-a-ah ! I shall be glad to meet him. I shall be proud to welcome him. He has conducted himself nobly — handsomely. The boy has done honor to his position. Frank {outside) . Make room ! Make room for the hero of the day ! {Enters R. 3 e.) Father, your hand. (Bosworth grasps his hand firmly .) Bos. Egad ! I'm proud of you, my boy. A duplicate of your father in every respect. You are sure to make your mark — sure of it, I say. Frank. Father, do not flatter me. Parson — shake. {They shake hands.) The danger is over. Par. I declare — Frank {turning quickly to Gratia). Gratia, you now must welcome my return with a kiss. (Gratia kisses him.) Mrs. Nogood, as you have already been informed, your son is wounded. How severely, we cannot as yet determine. It was his earnest re- quest to be brought into this camp, therefore we are obeying his wishes. They are near at hand. {Shouts of " Make roo?n for the hero I Make room far Amasa Nogood I " heard outside. Soldiers enter R. 3 e., and form them- selves into lines up and down stage L. and r. Soldiers should look rough and tired. Barney rises and crosses to l. i e. Second Soldier enters line r. Bosworth, Parson, Gratia, and Mrs. Nogood down stage r. c. Frank, c, places soldiers in position. If military band is in attendance, they should enter before soldiers, and divide, half forming R. c. and half l. c. down stage. Soldiers enter with Amasa upon litter. He is covered with U.S. flag. Dickson walks beside him. Frank conducts them down stage c, where litter is placed in an inclined position, so Amasa can be seen by audience. Mrs. Nogood clasps his hand. Frank stands behind and slightly elevated above him.) THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 37 Position of Characters. Band. Band. Frank Bosworth. Bos. > Mrs. N. > Par. ?* Gratia. Dick. R. L. Frank {when all are arranged). Captain Bosworth, soldiers, and all others present; with a wounded comrade before us, for as comrade I will designate him, 1 cannot dally with words. This much I will state : No flag is more dear to the hearts of the Amer- ican people than the grand, glorious, and ever-welcomed stars and stripes ; and no hero was ever better qualified to be enwrapped in their generous folds than he who lies wounded before you — the lion of the day — the citizen, and not the soldier — the bold, the brave, the unassuming Amasa Nogood. {All shout " Three cheers for Amasa Nogood, .") Bos. {extending his hand, which is taken by Amasa). D-d- damme ! my boy, I'm speechless. I can't address you in the proper language. I admire you. Doggast it! I envy you your position. Yes, sir, and saying that, I've said enough. With another com- pany to organize, I — I — Fd accept men of your mould if they were crooked as the bow of heaven. Damme ! if I wouldn't, sir. Amasa. I have only done my duty. And, in performing that duty, have endeavored to show that even a hunchback may not be born in vain. {Band plays military air as Act closes with Tableau.) SLOW CURTAIN. 38 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. ACT III. Scene. — Village lawn. Set trees L. and r. Stage decorated with U.S. flags and flowers to suit the taste. A canopied seat c. back decorated with flags and tastefully arranged. Rustic benches at r. and l., and one ?iear c. Entrances R. and l. As curtain rises, Bosworth and Parson enter R. 3 e. Bosworth is dressed in uniform^ atid Parson in plain suit of black. Bos. Everything is arranged in A 1 style. The ox is baked, the tables are prepared, and the noble boys will be welcomed in regal shape ; that is, what there is left of them. Par. Alas ! how terribly mutilated they are. Some minus an arm, some minus a leg, some wounded here, and some there, more than half of them dead, and the balance of them so ragged as to almost debar them from society. Bos. Egad! show me the society to debar them. They are the pets of society. The noble defenders of our country are the idols of society. Par. Yes, yes ; they have the appreciation of the general pub- lic, I am willing to admit. These flags, and flowers, and well-filled tables are conclusive evidence that the soldiers have engendered themselves deeply into the hearts of the American people. I ap- preciate them myself; though I would strongly advocate that war be conducted without bloodshed, if possible. Bos. Egad ! a warfare conducted without bloodshed would be a novelty, that's a fact. No blood at Gettysburg, no lives lost at the Wilderness or Spottsylvania Court House. Ha! ha! ha! a grand national parade gotten up at the expense of the people. Parson, you are demented ! Damme ! you wouldn't be fit to engineer an infants 1 crusade. Well, well, the war is ended — ended after a mighty struggle of five years. Who would have thought it ! Par. The rebellion has extended beyond our expectations, I must admit. We little realized, when visiting camp in '62, how obstinate those Southerners could be. The end has arrived, how- over, and soon the remnant of Company G will be our honored guests. Bos. Egad! won't they? Won't they be honored guests? {Rubbing his hands exultingly .) Won't they be equal to the high- est potentates of the land ? I can hardly contain myself until they are ushered in. Well, well, let us continue our inspections. {They cross to l. 3 e. and meet Barney and Bridget coming in.) Here ! why are you not with your company ? Bar. Bridget and Oi was just looking at the tables, sor. Oi was just returning to me place. That's a noice fat baked ox you have out there, sor. {Advances c. with Bridget.) Bos. Yes ; and little of it you deserve too. {To Parson.) That is one soldier upon whom I look with disgust. , - THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 39 Par. In opposition to the argument we advanced a few mo- ments ago, a line can be drawn even among soldiers. Though, as I understand it, Irishmen in general are brave and courageous fighters. Bos. Yes ; but a cowardly one is the chief of all cowards. {They exeunt l. 3 e.) Bridget. Why is it, Barney, that the old captain speaks to you so crossly? Bar. It is jealous of me he is. Bridget. Jealous, Barney? Bar. Yis ; hearing of the noble deeds Oi performed, the ould gintleman is afraid of thim promoting me to a position higher thin himself. Bridget. Is there any danger of that, Barney? Bar. Not just at present. The man who foights the hardest is apt to get left. It's just the same in love as in everything else. Bridget. Shure, now, what do you mane by that? Bar. Be aisy, now, and Oi'll make meself understood. Whoile Oi was foighting and dying for me counthry, and slayping upon the cold, wet ground wid no pillow but me knapsack, and dhreaming of home and thim the dearest to me heart, yeez was walking wid O'Harry by moonlight, and giving the kisses that belonged to meself. Bridget {looking down sheepishly, and twisting comer of her afirofi). Shure, it was only once in a while, Barney. Bar. {crossing excitedly to l.) . Arrah ! thin the thing is a fact, is it? Bridget {remaining c.). He just kissed me once in a while. Bar. What the divil did he kiss you once in a whoile for? Bridget. If yeez had been killed, Barney, I should have been left alone. Bar. Tare and ages ! what of that? Bridget. I was keeping him in case you niver came back. Bar. Well ! Bridget. And when he kissed me I tried to imagine it was my own soldier, Barney. Bar. {drawing nearer). Was you thrying to imagine that ? Bridget. Shure and I was, Barney. Bar. What was you thrying to imagine that for ? Bridget. Just to get some enjoyment from the kiss. Bar. {aside). Begorra ! that must be kissing by proxy. {Aloud.) Well, did yeez make your imagination a success? Bridget. Yis, Barney. Bar. And yeez kissed him in return? Bridget. Once in a while — wid the impression that it was yourself, remimber. Bar. Thin yeez was a kissing him for me? Bridget. I thried to imagine that, Barney. Bar. Well, now Oi'm returned are yeez intending to kapeupthe imagination ? 40 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Bridget. No, Barney. It is yourself I am wanting, and no other. Bar. And yeez will be afther telling him he is no longer wanted? Bridget. I told him that this morning, Barney, whin the sol- diers returned, Bar. {rushing up and throwing his arms around her). Arrah ! you're a swate craychure. Shure, and it's yourself what knows the difference between a soldier and a common citizen. {Kissing her. Drum heard off R.) Arrah ! they are calling the soldiers together. Oi must be off to place meself in position. {Exit with Bridget l. 3 e.) (Parson and Bosworth enter l. 3 e.) Par. It is strange what remarkable taste the ladies have dis- played in arranging the grounds for this grand reception. In every direction the eye is fascinated with artistic decorations that are simply wonderful. Then the viands appear so luscious, and the odors from them are so fragrant, that they tickle my palate, al- though I am troubled with dyspepsia in its worst form. At the same time, when we stop to think of those who will necessarily be absent, those who sleep in unknown yet honored graves, it throws over this grand ovation a mournful mantle of sadness. Bos. We do honor to the living first, and to the dead after- wards. So long as a veteran of this rebellion shall survive, the dead soldiers will be remembered and their graves decorated with flowers. A dead soldier is not forgotten, sir. Par. Ah — no; and the memory of an acknowledged hero is well nigh imperishable. I hardly know when I have been so vis- ibly affected as I was upon learning of the death of poor Amasa Nogood. What a noble specimen of a soldier he was. So brave, so magnanimous, and so sacrificing. Bos. Egad ! there should be more like him. The flag he so nobly planted above the Confederate Palmetto is conspicuous in our command. It contains his name and a tribute to his memory. Damme ! if I don't wish he was here to support it. Par. Yes, yes ; but that is impossible. What an unselfish act that was he performed at Andersonville. In my mind it contained more real bravery than the heroism he displayed upon the field of battle. Bos. In a measure — yes. In the disaster at Winchester he was among the number captured. Afterwards came the parole to one out of every six prisoners, which same was to be determined by ballot. Though he drew the lucky number, he persistently and de- terminedly forced it upon my boy, and then remained to die in that sink hole of perdition. ( Wiping his eyes.) Egad ! if my pride had contained more common-sense at the beginning — Par. Well, well, my dear Bosworth, it is too late for regrets THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 41 now. We were both proud of Company G, and sought to give it a presentable appearance. We miscalculated the magnitude of the rebellion and the power it would take to overthrow it. We doted upon appearances, perhaps, more than upon quality. Still, we have nothing to be ashamed of. The wretched and dilapidated appearance of the remnants to-day is evidence enough that our confidence was worthily bestowed. Yet, as you started to remark, if Amasa had been accepted as one of the volunteers, it would have been a wonderful relief upon our minds at the present moment. Gratia {enters l. 3 e. followed by Mrs. Nogood). Well, captain, the last touch has been given, and you can march in the company at your own will and pleasure. Bos. Egad! I am ready. Mrs. Nogood, that canopied seat {points c.) has been constructed to the memory of your boy. That I refused him as a volunteer, and that his sensitiveness for- bade him to accept promotion afterwards, I deeply regret. I can do no more at present. In honor to his bravery he has been bre- veted Colonel, by which title he will be referred to in the future. You, as his mother, will receive marked distinction from the com- pany, not only in honor to his memory, but for your noble services among the wounded. Mrs. N. For the honor bestowed upon my boy the ones con- cerned have already received my heartfelt thanks. Beyond that, I hardly consider myself worthy of your consideration. Bos. We will settle that question ourselves. Par. Yes ; as friend Bosworth would remark — Bos. No more speeches at present, parson. Let us go and escort in the brave boys of Company G. Par. Yes, yes, that is the wisest course, I must confess. (Bos- worth and Parson exeunt r. 3 e. followed by Gratia and Mrs. Nogood.) {Music. Cheers heard off R., and confusion of voices. Band heard distant, then nearer, after which it enters R. 3 E., crosses stage and off l. 3 e., and plays until distant again. Behind them in twos , follow Bosworth and Parson, Frank and Gratia, Color-bear- er and Mrs. Nogood, Dickson and soldier, and others in succes- sion. Barney and Bridget bring up the rear, followed by the crowd. The soldiers are ragged and wretched looking, so?ne with crutches, some showing but one leg, and some but one arm. Dickson is minus an arm. Citizens, at intervals, should be seen clinging to soldiers as line passes. Confusion for some mome?its off 1,. after line passes. Jim and Joe, two urchins, enter R. 3 E.) Jim {looking off l.). Say, Joe, don't yer wish yer wus a sojer? Joe. I'm goin' ter be one some time. Jim. Don't yer wish yer wus one now? Joe. What fer? Jim. So's ter muckle in ter them pies and cakes. Yum ! yum ! I kin almost taste 'em now. 42 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Joe. Let's hang around an' take the leavings. Jim. Ther won't be any. They'll eat 'em all up. Them sojers look jest holler enough ter swaller the hull ox, the pies an' cakes, an 1 the hull darned thing. My dad's among 'em. Joe. So's mine. Hain't got only one arm, nuther. Can't horsewhip me now only with his left hand, an 1 that won't hurt. I'll bet he made the rebels howl when he got arter 'em. Jim. Shucks! he wern't no braver then my dad wus. Joe. Yes he wus, too, 'cause he lost an arm. Jim. What 'er that? My dad hed seventeen bullets shot through his coat in the fust battle. Joe. So did mine. 'N 'e killed four rebels arter his arm wus shot off. Jim. How'd he do that? Joe. Held the gun in his left hand an' pulled the trigger with his right. Jim. How could he pull the trigger with his right hand when it wus shot off. Joe. Hey? Jim. When his right hand wus gone how could he use it to pull the trigger? Joe. Why, hold it in his teeth, er course. Jim. Who said he could do that? Joe. Dad said so hisself. Don't think he'd lie about it, do yer? Jim. Yes, sir, I do. Anyhow, it ain't half so great a feat as my dad done. Arter shootin' six rebels with the same bullet at one shot, it struck a cannon, an 1 glancin 1 off, struck a beech-tree, an 1 glancin' back, went right inter the gun again. Joe. How'd 'e know 'twas the same bullet? Jim. Had his name stamped on it; how d'ye s'pose? Joe. Did yer dad say he done that? Jim. Yes, he did. Don't think he'd lie about it, do yer? Joe. Reckon if yer dad said he done all that, he's an old liar. Jim {walking tip to him with clinched fists) . Yer mean ter call my dad a liar? Joe. Yes, I do ; an' I ain't afraid ter back it, nuther. Jim. Then you kin look out, 'cause I'm a-comin'. {They have rough -an d-t u m b I e fight.} Joe {holding Jim down and choking hint). Will yer call my dad the bravest if I'll let yer up? Jim. Yes ; I'll say it. Joe. Then why don't yer? {Chokes hint.) Jim. 'Cause yer chokin' me. Say ! your dad's the bravest man I ever knew, exceptin' one. Joe. Whose is that? Jim. My dad. {] of. chokes him.) Hold on ! Hold on! It ain't so. You've got the bravest dad I ever knew. Joe {letting up 071 him). Yer mean it, don't yer? Jim. Didn't I say so? (Joe releases him, wheti they clinch THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 43 \ again, and Jim reverses the order.) There, darn ye! Now whose dad's the bravest ? Say ? Joe. Yer jest stop this, now. Let me up. Jim. Say my dad's the bravest 'n I will. Joe. Yer let me up, darn ye ! Jim. Say my dad's the bravest, then. Joe. Er course your dad's the bravest. Jim. Will yer say so if I'll let yer up? Joe. Er course I will. (Jim lets him up, when they clinch and struggle again. Finally Jim breaks away and runs (?/r. 3 e.) Go ter thunder ! {Shouts after him.) Say! you're runnfrvjest as yer dad did in the war. {Coming down stage.) Reckon he wus lyin' jest the same as I wus. {Looking off r.) My gosh ! there comes the darndest lookin' old tramp I ever see'd. Reckon I'd better git out er here if I want a hull skin. No I won't nuther. 'Tain't more 'n ten rods ter the sojers, an' if he touches me I'll yell bloody murder. {Backs up to l. 3 e., looking first off R. and then l.) (Am asa Nogood enters slowly r. 3 e. He walks with cane, is extre?nely ragged, looks emaciated, and altogether is a perfect picture of wretchedness. Approaching to C. of stage, he stops atid looks around .) Amasa. Who would recognize in my shambling gait and emaci- ated frame the man who, years ago, was noted for his athletic feats. Even my humped back has seemed to shrink and shrivel up beneath the awful horrors of that Libby pen. Yet, while others died, and none survived of those I knew, that strength has buoyed me up and saved me from a lingering death. Yet, what a wreck I am ! {Look- ing at himself.) What a shattered, broken, and physical wreck I am! Joe {aside). Reckon that old bummer must be crazy. By gosh ! I wish I knew. Amasa. The soldiers have been discharged, it seems, and this is their home reception. Well, I will not molest them. The hunch- back, in his rags and tatters and prison filth, and as a common citizen, would be out of place among accepted soldiers. Then, again, I might break the alignment. {Turns to go off R.) Joe. Guess he's goin' oft now. Darned if I don't hope so ! I'll keep an eye on'im, 'cause if I don't he'll steal the hull common. He didn't' see me, an' I'm glad of it. By thunder ! he's comin' back ! Amasa {turning toward l.). That mother for whom I seek is most likely among the soldiers. Alas ! she cannot expect that I am still alive, and therefore will not look for my return. Before going to the cottage, I will approach unobserved, and glance around the tables. ( Crosses to L. Encounters Joe, who appears frightened.) Be not afraid, my boy, I would not harm you for twice your weight in gold. 44 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Joe {shaking). Oh, I — I ain't afeerd. ' Guess I've taken the ager frum dad ; 'cause — 'cause he wrote home once that he'd got it like sixty. {Stepping aside.) Say ! you want ter go in? Amasa. Not just at present. I wish merely to glance at the soldiers and others around the table. What is your name, my boy? Joe. Oh, my name's Joe — Joe Hackett. Dad's name's' John, an' he's a sojer. He's in there now. You kin see him at t'other end of the table there, makin' a perfect hog of hisself. Amasa. Ah — yes ; brave John they used to call him. He was indeed a good soldier. Joe. Say ! you know'm? Amasa. I knew him once — some years ago. Joe. Well, I'll go right in an' tell him you're here, an' want ter see'm. {Starts off.) Amasa {detaining him). Wait ! I want to question you further concerning the soldiers. Joe. Are you one on 'em? Amasa. No ; at least, my name is not so recorded upon the list. Joe. Well, then, there ain't no show. If you wus one of 'em you'd git a hunk of that old ox quicker'n a flash. Reckon you'd like a piece of it anyhow. Wouldn't ye? Amasa. Is the captain of the company in there named Frank Bosworth ? Joe. Yep. He's the captain. Reckon his old dad run's it most of the time, though. Alius acts as if he wanted ter, anyhow. Amasa. Is Dickson there, and James Wells, and Job Waiting? Joe. Dickson's there, an' with only one arm. Them other two fellers wus killed. Why, my ma says that there didn't hafF of the company come back. Reckon she knows, 'cause I don't remember. Amasa. When was the company discharged ; or rather, when did they return home? Joe. Terday ; an' when the folks knew they wus a-comin', they went ter work an' baked a hull ox ter give 'em. Baked it standin' right up too. Ain't much fun about it, though, 'cause — 'cause them folks whose sojers didn't come keep a-cryin' about it. Amasa. Yes, yes ; there is joy over those soldiers who return, and sorrow over those soldiers who return not. It is a reception of gladness, and yet one in which much sorrow is intermingled. Yes, y es . ( Wiping h is eyes . ) Joe. Say, mister! did you lose anybody? Yer — yer seem ter be cryin'. Amasa. No, no, my boy. My heart was only in sympathy with those who mourn. Is there one in there, a woman, named Hester Nogood? Joe. Why — yes. Say ! her son died in prison. They've given her one of the best seats at the table. Amasa. Did you say her son died in prison? Joe. That's what ma said — starved ter death. Say! yer see that seat down there ! {Points to canopied seat down c.) Well, THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 45 sir, they've made it ter his memory ; an 1 the old cap says they can't no one else use it, 'cause — 'cause they ain't worthy enough. An' he says the meanest thing he ever done wus refusin 1 that No- good frum bein' a volunteer. They done it, yer see, 'cause he wus out of shape somehow. Amasa. Did the old captain truly say what you have just uttered? Joe. Yep ! 'cause I heerd 'm. Say ! he wus promoted ter some- thin' with a C ter it, Colonel or Corperas, I don't know which. Anyhow, they've put it in front of his name, an' hitched it ter a flag he had somethin' ter do with in a battle. It reads Corperas Nogood, or somethin' like that ; an' the old cap says he must be called by that term in the future. Amasa. Who promoted him? Joe. Dunno ; guess it wus the president. Reckon some one told him how well Nogood fought, an' so he wanted ter boost him up ; but afore Nogood found it out he wus taken pris'ner, an : so never knew it. Ill bet he'd given a heap ter know he wus a colonel or a corperas afore he died. Don't you? Amasa (to himself) . Have they remembered the poor hunch- back to this extent ? Alas ! honors are easily conferred with death ; but with returning life, would not a quick recision cut them off? To receive eternal fame one should die in the midst of success, or when his reputation stands the highest. We shall see. We shall see. (To Joe.) My boy, mention not the tramp with whom you have conversed. The language of such men is of little value, though what they say may be exceedingly wise. Joe. Well, ain't yer hungry? Say ! hold on, an' I'll go an' ask 'em for a hunk o' meat. Wait ! some of them sojers is a-comin this way. (Amasa starts to hobble offR.) You can't git out er sight, so you'd better come back. Amasa. Then I will sit down here and await the results. (Hob- bles to rustic bench in front of canopied seat and sits down.) (Enter from l. 3 e., Dickson, Barney, ^^Bridget, and other soldiers and citizens. They scatter to different parts of the stage.) Bar. (crossing to R. 1 e. with Bridget). Arrah ! it's a grate treat afther foighting for four years to return home and be recaived wid an ovation loike this. Shure that was the fhirst comfortable meal Oi've sat down to since the day Oi captured a Southerner's pantry. You see it happened — (Seating himself , and as he does so he perceives Amasa.) Who the divil is that ? (All turn and look.) Bridget (aside to Barney). Shure that must be the man who stole me washing last week. Amasa (noticing that he is critically observed). Have no fears, my comrades. When sufficiently rested I will move along without trouble. 46 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Dick. You call us " comrades." Does thet sorter signify thet you're a soldier? Amasa. No — no, sir ; but all soldiers are comrades to those whose sympathies are akin to theirs. I call you comrades because I respect the cause for which you have fought. I am no soldier, sir. Bar. Shure, and why didn't yeez make wan? Amasa. Would they accept me for a soldier, think you? I am not of the right shape. Tis such as you, with perfect form and fine appearance, who stand first in the rank, and prove the noble defenders of their country. I was not wanted. Bar. {aside to Bridget). Did yeez hear that, Bridget? He presinted me wid a compliment. Bridget. Yis ; I heard it. Dick, {aside). Durned if thet chap don't put me in mind o' somethin 1 I can't think of. {Aloud.) Look a-here, friend, is your camp pitched anywheres in these parts ? Amasa. The camp of all tramps is where night overtakes them. Dick. Jest so. Well, kin I ask where you come f'rm t 1 here? Amasa. From the South. Dick. Jest where we've come fr'm this mornin'. Hain't been galivantin 1 around among th' soldiers, hev ye? Amasa. I was allowed the liberty of the North and South ; more liberty in the North, however, than in the South. Dick. Sort of a privileged character, I should jedge. One ud think, though, t 1 look at ye, that you was jest out of a rebel prison. Amasa. Looks are very deceptive, comrade. I think those prisons contained enough soldiers without adding myself to that number. Possibly they contained some of your own company. Dick. Some? Well I should reckon they did. Five of our men died there, an 1 ef it hadn't been fer th' bravest man God ever let live, our captain ud have died there too. Amasa. How was that? Dick. Well among th' pris'ners taken f'rm our company was a hunchback who wern't a soldier exactly, but who jest hung around an' fought on his own account. He wus th' bravest cuss you ever see'd. " A parole wus gotten up while they wus in Andersonville thet wus t' free a lot of 'em by choice o' ballot. Though th' hunch- back drew a lucky number, an' our captain didn't, he jest made th' captain swap tickets in spite of hisself, an' remained t' fill his place. Arterwards he died in Libby 1th a lot of other pris'ners. Now kin you relate an act that contained more genuine bravery than that ? Amasa. Should it not be the duty of a common soldier, or citi- zen even, to sacrifice himself for his superiors, or for those who could be of greater benefit to the nation? Dick. Well, it might be his duty, but I'll bet two dollars he'd be mighty keerful not t' see it. Would you? Amasa. I would not care to answer until placed in a similar position. THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 47 Dick. Well, ef I had liberty in front o' me, an' a prison pen ahind, an' a ticket t' go out on, it ud be a mighty hot day afore I surrendered it t' another. I weren't never no blood relation t' Damon an' Pythias, as I knows on. Bar. {aside). Oi m thinking Oi feel just that same way meself. Amasa. You may be a coward, comrade ; but the loss of that arm would not indicate it. He who belittles his own prowess is more apt to be trusted in battle. Dick. I reckon you don't know me, squire, as well as I do my- self. I wus so pesky scairt in th' fust battle that I haven't got over tastin' it yet. It weren't through bravery that I lost this arm, nuther. It wus because I didn't know th' pesky bullet wus a-comin' until it had gone past. Somehow a bullet gits t' a man afore he's ready t' receive it ; an' when it does, it is purty apt t' create a heap o' trouble. How is it, Barney ; wus you troubled 'ith th' bullets ?• Bar. Oi wus that, seeing as how Oi was among thim continu- ally. Shure, and it's a heap of adventures Oi could relate of me own narrow escapes. Dick. Well, I don't know whether I could or not. I wus there so long that I kinder git things mixed up. I guess a nine months 1 man could beat me all holler. Seems t' me as ef I do recollect o' runnin' in my fust battle, an' th' way I made th' dust fly ud have done credit t' th' skedadlers at Bulls Run. Durned cu'rus what cattle men are when they git frightened, ain't it? Bar. Begorra ! it shows the bastely nature of which they are composed. Dick. Ye see, I wasn't feelin' very heroic when the battle fust opened, so when some o' th' boys who felt jest th' same way com- menced t' take leg bail, I felt jest like jinin' th' crowd. Purty soon a colonel o' some regiment who stood alongside o' me dropped his sword, an' jined in 'ith th' procesh. Thinkin' as how he had for- gotten t' take it, an' thet it ud be no more nor soldierly t' return it, I picked it up an' started in pursuit. Bar. And did yeez catch him? Dick. Well, sir, it beat th' Dutch how thet colonel did run. I gained on him, though, an' got jest near enough t' tap him on th' shoulder 'ith th' sword, t' let him know I hed it, ye see, when away he went et an extry spurt thet in two seconds left me four rods behind. Bar. And yeez lost him afther all? Dick. Not by a jugful ! I began t' let out th' stitches, an' it wasn't long afore I slewed up t' him agin, an' gave him another tap 'ith th' sword. Jewhitaker ! it jest lifted him like a galvanic shock. He cleared fifteen feet at a bound, an' his hair rose right up as ef he thought th' devil wus ahind him. T' me th' devil seemed one notch furder back ; an' thet wus th' reason, I s'pose, thet I began t' tickle his heels agin, an' shorten th' distance atween us. Bar. And did yeez catch him then? Dick. Well, arter th' fust half mile I settled right down t' busi- 48 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. ness, an' began V make full schedule time. It seemed t 1 me as ef th 1 faster I ran th' more I wus bein' pursued, an' I reckon th' colonel felt jest th 1 same way. When I hed passed him by about a hair's breadth, I says t' th 1 colonel, says I, "Colonel, I kinder reckoned you'd forgotten this sword, an' so brought it along. Seem' as how I'm purty well started, I'll hurry right on t 1 camp an 1 git th' tea water well t' bilin' by th' time you git there." Bar. {excited}. And did the ould colonel take the sword? Dick. He didn't take it exactly, but made a lunge fer my coat tail, an' missed it by jest th 1 skin of his teeth. Th' look he gave me as I swung out o' sight around a corner in th' main road '11 haunt me t 1 my dyin 1 day. Bar. Did yeez iver see the ould colonel afther that? . Dick. Two days after thet eventful race, he came saunterin' into camp where I wus stationed fer repairs, an' what d'ye s'pose he asked ? Bar. Well, Oi'm thinking he asked yeez for the sword. Dick. Wrong again. He asked ef thet tea water wus ready for use. Bar. Begorra ! he had the cheek of a government mule. Cheek? Sure, and did yeez iver know Jack Turner? Well, sor, Oi was driving a loaded bomb wagon wan day, wid the fuses to 'em all sthanding on end, whin a lighted wan came over from the rebels and draaped right into their midst. Wid the prisence of moind Oi ginerally possess in such cases, Oi snatched up a pail of wather — Dick. Look a-here, Barney, how could you snatch up a pail o* water when you wus a-drivin' a bomb wagon ? Bar. Are yeez telling this story? Dick. Drive ahead, Barney, an' I'll not interfere agin. Bar. Oi'll not say another dommed word ! If yeez are more acquainted wid the story thin meself, yeez kin tell it. {Enter from l. 3 e. Captain Bos worth, Parson, Frank Bosworth, Gratia, Mrs. Nogood, and soldiers. The soldiers pass to l. c. a?id R. c. back.} Bos. {coming front with Frank and Parson. Gratia and Mrs. Nogood near l. i e.). Egad! to know you marched into Richmond among the first is glorious. I would have given pounds — pounds, sir, to have been among the number. Frank. To those who participated in the event, it will be a day long to be remembered. It signified the end of the war. To the tired and worn-out soldiers it betokened home and friends and the association of loved ones. Gratia. And they are more to be preferred than the associations of the camp, arn't they, Frank? The scene I witnessed on my par- ticular visit will haunt me to my dying day. Par. Then the food was so far from being nutritious. To me THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 49 it was positively indigestible. In fact, what they called hard tack was hard tack in every sense of the word. Bos. Pooh! pooh! what do you expect in the army — trout? Such luxuries are seldom furnished. The soldier should be satis- fied with what he can get. Dick, (who has seated himself upon bench r. c. when others en- tered}. Durned ef your opinion with relation t' army fodder hain't hed a collapse. Makes a difference, I reckon, whether you are after volunteers, or have got through with 'em. Why, I wern't in camp four weeks afore I'd have given ten dollars t'seen a good fat chicken come sailin' in t 1 camp. Bar. Begorra ! yeez had thim, too, whin foraging was plenty, and a picket could be passed. Dick. Well, ef I did I wasn't put in a guard-house fer doin' it. Bar. (aside). Shure, and he intended that for me. Frank. The incidents of camp life are never forgotten. There is not a soldier but what in after years will look back to them with pleasure. Bos. Egad ! won't they ? I know how it is myself. I couldn't forget them if I would; and I wouldn't if I could. The war to an old soldier is full of strange reminiscences. Mrs. N. Ah, yes ; and to those wives and mothers who furnish the soldiers, those reminiscences are far from being pleasant. Would to Heaven that to me they were but the vagaries of sleep, from which I might soon awaken. Par. It is quite natural, Mrs. Nogood, that you should look upon war with many regrets. Still, not altogether with regrets, either. The boy whom you sacrificed for your country contained all the attributes of a noble soldier. He died for a noble cause. This should fill you with a sense of conscious pride, even though his loss is well nigh unbearable. Mrs. N. Ah ! but the manner of his death. Think of the terri- ble suffering he must have endured ! Frank. Yes ; and all for the sake of my freedom. Accepting the liberty that was his by right has always filled me with a sense of guilt ; but he would insist upon it. Knowing him as I did, I knew he would never leave that prison while one of Company G remained. Oh ! would that he had lived, that I might have given him his reward ! Gratia. We will always cherish his name with the fondest memories so long as life shall last. Bos. Egad ! and his works too. I refused him as a volunteer, but his name shall long be remembered. (Points to flag arranged above canopied seat.) There it is. " Colonel Nogood, the hero of Company G." {Perceives Amasa.) Damme ! here is a recruit. (All look to Amasa. Bosworth and Parson pass to c. r., and Frank, Gratia, andMRS. Nogood to c. l.) 50 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Dick., Yes ; he wus here when I came in. He looks like a haff- starved soldier; but he says he ain't one, an 1 hain't been one. My generosity wus jest a-goin 1 t 1 invite him t 1 hash as you came in an 1 spiled it. Amasa. I am no beggar, comrades. My wants have been sup- plied, and by men like you, in regulation suits. 'Tis a poor tramp with whom an American soldier will not divide rations. Bos. Gad ! they would split the last penny; but what are you tramping for? You should be in better business. Amasa. Unavoidable circumstances have placed me in the con- dition in which I am situated. Bos. Yes ; the same old story. Downfall the result of misfor- tune or bodily infirmities. Impossible to have been a soldier on account of your health. Amasa. To the contrary, sir, I was in perfect health. Bos. Egad ! why didn't you enlist, then? Amasa. I offered my services, and was refused. Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! men in perfect health seldom meet with that reception. On what excuses were you refused? Amasa. I was deformed. {General movement. Frank and Mrs. Nogood start, and look at Amasa critically.') Bos. {after a pause). Oh — ah! 1 Yes. Par. I declare, Bosworth, what a singular coincidence ! Bos. {turning away). Damme ! if it isn't. Frank. Look here, my man, where is your place of residence? Amasa {slowly). That is yet to be determined. Frank. Another thing. Your language is not that of a vagrant. Do you claim to make it a profession ? Amasa. Not as a regular profession, no. Frank. And by your own acknowledgment you are not a soldier. Still, in opposition to your general appearance, you sup- port a soldierly bearing. Amasa. We imitate those whom we respect and acknowledge superior to ourselves. Frank. What is your name ? Amasa. It would be no good if I should tell you. It better be left untold. Bar. {aside). Begorra ! there's a point about that, if the Nogood it belonged to wasn't dead. Frank {turning to Gratia) . Alas ! I had hoped — But, there ; the idea is too preposterous. I will not mention it. Gratia. There is that about his language that impresses me deeply. Dick. He told me afore you came in that he'd been in th' South. Not only among the Federals, but thet he'd been galivantin' among the Confederates too. Now I reckon he couldn't have been waltz- in' around in thet section much 'ithout seein' somethin', an' I'd kinder like t' ask what ? Amasa. I will answer it. I have seen the barbarous side of THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 5 I •war. Have suffered with those who suffered, and starved with those who starved. Have lived in rot, and filth, and fetid vapors, wherein men have prayed and.fought and cursed and died. Have seen strong men shrink and shrivel up, and die by lingering degrees, while I lived, a phantom shadow of my former self. Seen home- sickness so intense that men have died with that alone. The hellish death line, which desperate men, made so through tortures too in- tense to bear, have crossed and welcomed death with joy. I have seen all this, and more. (Clasping his brow.) My God! enough to drive me wild, and haunt me with nightmares while life shall last. Frank (starting forward) . Man ! in but one place on God's foot- stool could those things have happened. Nowhere but in the prisons of the South. Amasa. Well ! I have been there. Frank. A prisoner? Amasa. Yes. Frank (grasping him by the shoulder). Man! stand up. (Amasa rises with difficulty. Frank turns him around, and per- ceives his humped back.) My God ! the grave has yielded up its dead. This weak, tottering, emaciated skeleton is — Amasa. Amasa Nogood. (All rush around him, tittering ex- clamations?) Frank (clasping him in his arms and weeping). Oho-oho, my dear boy, my dearest friend, my saviour. O Amasa ! Amasa ! Mrs. N. (rushing to his side and embracing him). Heaven be praised ! You are indeed my boy. Frank. Oh, you are Amasa, aren't you ? Tell me that you are no ghost ! Amasa. I am Amasa, what there is left of me. But do not come near me. Let me change my clothes and wash — Frank. Wash be hanged ! I'll hold you, clean or dirty. Ha ! ha ! what do I care for your dirt and rags now ? Bar. (who has been looking on in amazement). Well, Til be dommed ! Bos. (dancing around stage front). Egad ! this is a resurrection. 'Tis the grandest sequel to the greatest tragedy I ever witnessed. Par. (trying to keep up with Bosworth). I declare ! it's a per- fect romance. Bos. (slapping Parson upon back). Don't it make your blood boil, parson ? Don't it make you feel young again ? Par. (imitating Bosworth with expressions of delight) . It does, my dear Bosworth, it certainly does. I declare ! it really makes me feel kittenish. (Trying to slap Bosworth upon back.) Bos. (rushing to Amasa) . Make way here ! (Soldiers fall back.) Give me a chance at the boy. (Catches hold of Amasa with the rest.) I want to tell him that I'm a fool. A confounded old fool ! Par. (following Bosworth). Yes; make way here. A con- summate old fool. (Gets hold of Amasa.) 52 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. Bos. I want to tell him that I'll reward him for my doggasted foolishness if it takes a leg. Par. (shouting). Yes; we'll reward him for our foolishness if it takes both of his legs. * Dick. Convey him t 1 his throne. Enfold him 'ith th' flag he so nobly defended. 'Tis th' best uniform he ever wore, an' th' most honored. I'd help ef I hed thet other pesky arm. Bos. Egad ! you're a hero yourself. (Soldiers shout " To his throne / To his throne / " and rush for- ward. MRS. Nogood steps back. Soldiers lift Amasa up bodily, and place him upon canopied seat c. Frank tears down the flag containing the emblem, and folds it around Amasa. Stepping back he draws his sword and salutes him.) Frank. Colonel Nogood, I salute you. (Salutes.) We ar- ranged this to the honor of a dead hero. Thank God ! we now christen it with a live one. Comrades, three cheers for Colonel Nogood, the hero of Company G. (All cheer.) Amasa (rising overcome). This is too much. I — I — I'm dumb. I'm dumb. All I can say is, God bless you! (Sinks upon seat.) Bos. That's enough ! Egad ! we want nothing better. Soldiers, sing. Give us the star spangled banner. Song : ' ' Star Spangled Banner." Position of Characters. Canopied seat. Amasa. Bosworth. Frank. Parson. Gratia. Soldiers. Mrs. N. Bridget. Soldiers. Barney. Dickson. R. L. SLOW CURTAIN. — TABLEAU. A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. A Companion to "REBECCA'S TRIUMPH." ANITA'S TRIAL; Or, Our Girls in Camp. By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding," "That Patrick," "Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. Price, ------- 35 cents. This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. The- dresses are simple and picturesque camping costumes. The enor- mous success of "Rebecca's Triumph " has created a demand for this sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the difficult problem of constructing a play of strong human interest with- out the assistance of male characters. TiE n HRQNOTHANATQLETRQ N ; OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members of the Class of 'Sy and first performed before members of the school and their friends, June iS, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, April 6, 1 888. Price, THE PEAK SISTERS. humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Mary B. Horne. Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. Price, -------15 cents. THE BOOK OF DRILLS. A group of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per- formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. Price, -------30 cents. WALTER R BAKER & CO,, Pnlsners, 23 Winter St. Boston. AN ENTIRE NOVE1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ■ min THE GREAT MC™1™*" Dime Sho AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. By MARY B. HORNE, Author of "The Peak Sisters," PjftOF. Baxter's Great Invention, "The Book of Prills," "The Carnival of Days," "Plantation Bitters," Etc. Nine male, seven female characters. Costumes simple; scenery an ordinary interior, or may be dispensed with altogether. Plays from half an hour upward, according to the number and character of additional specialties introduced. Printed exactly as lirst performed by the Unity Club, Watertown, Mass., on Friday evening, February 5, 1891'. This most amusing entertainment is a burlesque of the ordinary "dime- mr.seuni," so-called, but is entirely devoid of the vulgarity of its original, and perfectly adapted to church or home performance. The characters are, save the lecturer and her assistant, a wonderful collection of "freaks" of nature (some- what assisted by art) who sing, dance or recite, according to their special abilities, in illustration of the explanatory lectu e. It is most elastic in its requirements, can be played on any stage or platform, with or without scenery, and with a greater or smaller number of characters, according to taste or necessity. It can be made uproariously funny, and is in character as well as fact A SEQUEL TO THE PEAK SISTERS. Price, 15 Cents. SYNOPSIS. SCENE.— The exhibition hall of Sister Keziah's Show. Sistc 1 Keziah's intro- ductory lecture. Johnathan, the bashful assistant. Introductory hymn. Introduction of the "freaks." Daniel McGinty redivirus. Daniel's song LUCIA Z\RATE, the celebrated Mexican dwarf. Kioto, the shortest man alive, not Jinaiieial'y. The wonderful Mermaid. The Mermaid's song. Cassiis Win IE, the ossified boy. A "rocky" recitation. Kallili', the only specimen of his kind in captivity; illustrated by cuts. SIGN OK Galassj, the" celebrated Glass Eater. Galassi'sinj>s. Allegro Penseroso, the won- derful two-headed girl;. not -to be confounded with the. more common two- fnced girl. Two ways of eating a pickle. Ida and Ione. the Grecian maidens. Raphael Tintoret, the blind painter, who paints blinds in full view of the audie ce. Ah Chin and \Vi\ LUNG, the Chinese twins, ex- t remely well connected from birth. " The Land of Tea." Ka-foOZL, the Turkish vocalist. Grand finale and curtain.