PS 3129 
 
 ■ W465 
 G6 
 Copy 1 
 
 FEENCH'S 
 
 NO. 65> 
 
 ££ 
 
 A GOOD FELLOW;" 
 
 PETITE COMEDY IN ONE ACT, 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES M. WALCOT, 
 
 COMMEDIAN. 
 
 With Cast of Characters, Stage Business, Costumes, Relative 
 Positions, etc. etc. 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT THE AMERICAN THEATRES. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 121 NASSAU-STREET. 
 
 PRICE, 12* CENTS. 
 
 
FRENCH'S 
 
 AMEEICAN DRA.M.A. 
 
 Sije &cttnfl Htiftfon. 
 
 No. LXXIV. 
 
 >« # »< 
 
 66 
 
 A GOOD FELLOW;" 
 
 PETITE COMEDY, IN ONE ACT. 
 
 CHARLES M.^WALCOT, 
 
 f^J COMEDIAN. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED 
 
 A description of the Costume— Cast of the Characters— Entrances and Exits- 
 Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the 
 Stage Business. 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT THE AMERICAN THEATRES. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-Six, by Charles 
 M. Walcot, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District 
 of New York. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 121 Nassau Street. 
 
 ^ X? 
 

 <ftast of tjje Characters.— ("A Good Fellow.") 
 
 FIEST PERFORMED AT WALLACES THEATRE, NEW YORK, 1854. 
 
 Mr. Felix Umbraton, . 
 
 Mr. RusMon Sunny side, 
 
 Mrs. Umbraton, . . . 
 Mrs. Sunnyside, . . . 
 
 . A Good Citizen, . 
 
 . A Good Fellow, . 
 
 . A Good Wife, . . 
 . A Good Customer, 
 
 Costume. — Modern. 
 
 Mr. Walcot. 
 Mr. Brougham. 
 Mr. Lester. 
 Mrs. F. B. Conway. 
 Mrs. Brougham. 
 
 "■» 
 
 STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
 
 L. means First Entrance Left. R. First Entrance Right. S. E. L. 
 Second Entrance, Left. S. E. R. Second Entrance, Right. V. E. L. 
 Upper Entrance, Left. U. E. R. Upper Entrance, Right. C. Centre. 
 L. C. Left Centre. R. C. Right of Centre. T. E. L. Third Entrance, 
 Left. T. E. R. Third Entrance, Right. C. D. Centre Door. D. R. 
 Door Right. D. L. Door Left. U. D. L. Upper Door, Left. U. D. R. 
 Upper Door, Right. 
 
 *** The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience. 
 
"A GOOD FELLOW." 
 
 SCENE. — A neat Apartment in the House of Mr. Umbraton. — Mrs. 
 Umbraton discovered at needle work. 
 
 Mrs. TJmb. It's all very well for Felix to preach, as lie does, on 
 every possible occasion, about it's being the imperative duty of every 
 family to live strictly within its means, and of every wife to add as 
 much as she can to the common stock by doing all she can to lessen 
 the household expenses; he knows. I can't argue with him, and the 
 result is that, almost whenever I have made up my mind to go to some 
 particularly grand concert, or especially fashionable ball, or to take a 
 day for a little harmless shopping, he treats me to one of his sermons, 
 at the end of which I am pretty sure to find myself up to my elbows in 
 flour, making pies and puddings, or bewailing my fate while mending 
 his socks. Oh, dear me ! I don't know how it is that I don't fly out and 
 insist on doing as other people do, who are no better off than we are. 
 I'm sure our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. llushton Sunnyside, who live 
 opposite, go to every conceivable expensive place, and do every im- 
 aginable expensive thing, and I don't believe she even knows her hus- 
 band's income ; and I've heard several tradespeople declare they 
 havn't an idea of it. However, on this one point I am resolved 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Heard outside, l.] Never mind Susan, I'll not take you 
 from your ironing, if your mistress is up stairs I'll find her. 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Outside, l.] No ceremony with us, Susan. 
 
 Mrs. TJmb. Oh dear, how provoking ; here comes Mr. and Mrs. Sun- 
 nyside, to catch me in the midst of this horrid darning and patching. 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Sunnyside, l. d., 2. e. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Well, Mary, dear, how are you to-day 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. My dear Mrs. Umbraton, pray don't answer to so outra- 
 geous a question. — Celia, I'm astonished at you ! how can our dear 
 friend be in other than the best possible health, looking so charming 
 as she does. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Oh stuff, Rushton. I thought I'd run in as I was passing, 
 Mary, to see if you'd like to go with me to look at Madame Frippe- 
 
4 A GOOD FELLOW. 
 
 rie's now stock of laces and embroideries just arrived from Paris, and 
 to be opened to the public for the first time to-day. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Frightened to death, my dear Madam, that you should 
 get there before her, and buy up all the most becoming articles, and 
 so outshine her at the great fete on the 20th. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Rushton, what nonsense ! 
 
 Mrs. Umb. I, Sir 1 Oh dear no ; Celia knows too well that my fate 
 confines me too closely to home-spun matters, to dread in me a rival 
 in expensive fashions. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Ah, that's just like me, I'm sure to get wrong if it's 
 possible. Now I fancied that the novelty and costliness of the arti- 
 cles were their principal recommendations to you ladies. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Do you suppose our home-spun friend is going to plead 
 guilty to any such impeachment 2 But bless us and save us, Mary, 
 what are you about ] Why, ha, ha ! Excuse my laughing, dear, but 
 upon my word I can't help it. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, don't apologise, I'm not altogether either surprised 
 or vexed at your laughing. Pleasant, isn't it, to be stuck down here 
 stitching, stitching, stitching, and darning, darning, darning, while all 
 the rest of the world are enjoying themselves out of doors 1 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Decidedly unpleasant, and most emphatically wrong, and 
 therefore, may I take the liberty to ask why you do it? 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Well, my dear, the children can't be allowed to go out 
 at elbows, nor, I suppose, would it be particularly agreeable to Mr. 
 Umbraton to find his feet progressing beyond the originally prescribed 
 limits of his socks, therefore 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Crosses to c] Therefore, whenever Mr. Umbraton's 
 socks evince a disposition to allow Mr. Umbraton to run out of bounds 
 they should be instantly replaced by a new supply. To say nothing of 
 the comfort, look at the economy of having things new as often as 
 possible. I'm sure, now, I should not mind making a wager that it 
 would take less than half the time to go to Stewart's, and buy any num- 
 ber of dozens of socks, than it must take to — what do you call 'em. 
 Darn — that's the horrid word ; I shall never believe in the value of 
 the operation ; the expression always struck me as so frightfully vul- 
 gar : — Darn your socks ! oh, dreadful ! 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Ah, that's all very fine ; but where's the money to come 
 from 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Eh ' oh, upon my life I don't know. 
 
 3frs. Sun, And I'm sure I'm never curious enough to inquire ; why 
 should 1 1 I never use any. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, come, come, Celia, that's carrying the joke a little 
 too far ; you never use money ! ha, ha, ha ! How was that elegant 
 mantle, and that duck of a hat, and that sweet dress, paid for, I 
 should like to know 1 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Would you 1 well now, that's a matter I never feel the 
 least anxiety about. I take it for granted that things are paid for, 
 because, paying for things seems to be a sort of business understand- 
 ing, and as such, I always leave it entirely to Rushton. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Ah, you wicked puss ! and very cruel it is of you, when 
 
A GOOD FELLOW," 5 
 
 you know how forgetful I am, and how stupid I always was at figures 
 It s a positive fact my dear Mrs. Umbraton, [crosses to c.,1 that from 
 childhood up to the present hour, arithmetic has been the chief stum- 
 bling block of my existence. I've had addition, multiplication, and 
 subtraction, arrayed before me on an amount of slate more than suffi- 
 cient to roof the Opera House, and the only correct proof I ever gave 
 m my life was, that I couldn't tell one rule from the other. As to the 
 Rule of Three, I've always looked upon it as a direct imposition, from 
 the conviction that, for all practical purposes, there can be no occasion 
 as a general rule, for any other rule than a Rule of One. I make the 
 oddest mistakes m mere figures you can imagine : I had occasion to 
 send a man some dollars the other day for some rare peaches He 
 had sent a bill, I looked at the figure supposed to represent the amount, 
 and sent the sum to the fellow. Gad, he came back in ten minutes 
 and said I d sent one third too little ! What do you think 1 ha ha' 
 la looked at his bill up side down, and sent him six dollars instead 
 of nine! ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Well, I've often thought that women ought not to be both- 
 ered about money ; what do I know, for instance, of any business un- 
 derstandings 1 
 
 Mrs. Sun. My dear, the thing's preposterous, we should always be 
 making some absurd mistake or other. I admit that poor Rushton is 
 as stupid as any one need be in such matters, for he never seems to 
 thoroughly comprehend half the tiresome accounts that those fright- 
 lul tradespeople will insist on boring him with ; however, he always 
 pretends to be very business-like, and gives them something they call 
 notes of hand— I think that's the name of them— and there's an end 
 though ol what earthly use they can be, I can't conceive. But come do 
 throw off this Dame Durden air for an hour or two, and come with 
 me ; it s downright monstrous to mope in doors, when all the fashion- 
 able world is abroad. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, but my dear Celia, you've no idea what a host of 
 things I have to attend to ; there's a basket of clothes that will take me 
 three good hours to set to rights. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Ha, ha ! what a funny idea ! set clothes to rights— ha 
 ha, ha ! My dear madam, take my advice and set em to music, instead ; 
 you 11 find it much more amusing, and it would tell immensely. Just 
 imagine: The Stocking Quick Step" and the " Night Cap Polka." 
 Uh, you 11 become as famous as Julien in no time, and while he is 
 creating a furore with his brilliant arrangement of a new set of quad- 
 rilles, you will take the town by storm with your matchless arrange- 
 ment of a new set of shirts. ° 
 
 Mrs. Sun. For shame, Rushton ! But, my dear child, you have no 
 business with such things at all ! Where's your seamstress ? [Sunny- 
 side goes up embarrassed.] No man in his senses surely expects you 
 to consume your life in keeping his mind at rest on the subject of 
 v nst buttons and collar strings. Have a proper person for the purpose 
 in the house, my dear ; it's the handiest thing in the world ; for I ad- 
 mit that men are apt to get very cross about the absence of a few 
 buttons, so that of course it's worth one's while to have them attended 
 
6 "a good fellow. 
 
 to ; but I have a nice quiet young girl always in the house who takes all 
 that trouble off my hands, and does a hundred things besides, I've no 
 doubt, that I've not an idea of; now, doesn't she, dear? [To Rush. 
 Rush. Sun. [Embarrassed.] Eh? Oh, yes, dear, certainly! 
 Mrs. Sun. Nor do I care to have, as long as Rushton don't grumble ; 
 for I'm convinced if I were even to offer to dismiss her, and do the 
 work myself, he'd never hear of it, would you now, Rushy 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Never— never, dear. [Aside.] I feel as if an immediate 
 stroll in the fresh air would be of immense advantage to me. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Well, I never thought of that, and I certainly do think 
 that Felix might afford such a small additional expense as that must be. 
 Mrs. Sun. Afford it! why of course; Rushton jumped at the oppor- 
 tunity the moment I suggested it ; took the whole affair at once into 
 his own hands, made all" the necessary inquiries, found a suitable per- 
 son, and has never even troubled me with the payment of her wages. 
 He settles with her, and I presume to their mutual satisfaction, eh, • 
 Rushton, love 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Oh, entirely, dear— I may say, in fact [Aside.] No, 
 
 I don't think I'd better say any more than the exigencies of this very 
 trying case imperatively demand. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. I certainly will suggest it to Felix, but I know he wont 
 be bothered with finding such a person. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Never mind that ; only get his consent, and Rushton 
 shall see to getting you a suitable assistant. 
 
 Rush. Stin. [Aside.] There's a chance to get out. 
 3Irs. Sun. Oh, he don't mind attending to those little matters, I 
 know — eh, dear ? 
 
 Rush. Sun. Certainly not, dear — indict, I'll go and get my ponies 
 and commence the search at once — I'm a deuce of a fellow when I 
 once undertake anything ! 
 
 3Irs. Uumb. Oh, don't use any particular haste, sir, I beg. 
 Mrs Sun. [To Rush.] Wont you walk with us, then? 
 Rush. Sun. Well, no love — not under the circumstances ; the con- 
 versation appears to be taking rather a lively turn, and I might find 
 
 myself slightly in the way — so, good bye 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Nay, but really, Mr. Sunnyside 
 
 Rush. Sun. No, 'pon my honor; you don't know me: queerest chap 
 you can imagine. I'm so bent on this business, that I shall never get 
 
 straight again if 1 don't go at once ; in short, I ha, ha, ha ! I 
 
 really don't feel safe another moment in the house. I wish you a 
 very good day. [Exit l., 2 e. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Go then, dear, put on your things, don't be long, and I'll 
 amuse myself as I best can, till you are ready. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Well, I do feel that the fresh air would enliven me, so I 
 will go ; if you get tired of waiting while I make my toilet, you can 
 amuse yourself in a variety of ways — from wristbands to collars in 
 abundance. 
 
 3Irs. Sim. Oh, the horrid things ! Wait, I'll go with you. 
 Mrs. Umb. What, are you afraid you may be tempted 1 
 Mrs. Sun. Yes, to throw them out of the window. 
 
 [Exeunt, laughing, e. d., 2. e. 
 
A OOOD FELLOW. " 1 
 
 Enter Mr. Felix Umbraton 2. e., l. d. 
 
 Umb. So, that intolerable Mrs. Sunnyside here again. Of all the 
 dangers by which a simple minded, properly disposed wife, can be 
 beset, there is no one so great as your gadabout married woman of the 
 world. She hovers around the happy home of others' domesticity like 
 a hawk over a dove-cote, and wo betide the hapless inmate that ven- 
 tures forth into the fatal circle, or innocently admits the treacherous 
 stranger, bent on destruction of the peaceful brood. My poor good 
 Mary, bless her heart, is as unfit to cope with this dragon-fly of society 
 as a wren Avith the talons of a kite. But I am resolved, at "any cost, to 
 keep my hearth untainted by these pests, who gad and flirt, and run 
 in debt for their amusement — only too happy when they have reduced 
 another to their vicious level. And this woman's husband, too, abets 
 her in her course — plays the same game, and thrives on it. Gives 
 dinners, soirees, lavishes his means (too meager to support a twentieth 
 part of the career he runs) on fools and scamps, that they may puff and 
 herald him abroad, the Prince of Company — a right " Good Fellow." 
 Pshaw ! there I go, hurrying on full charge against that for which 
 neither he nor she, perhaps, deserves the greatest blame. Parents will 
 have "smart" children now-a-days, and " as the twig is bent the tree's 
 inclined." But while pity moderates the accent of reproach, prudence 
 must guard against contamination. This woman may infect my wife j 
 I must purify my house. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Outside r.J I vow, now, you'll do amazingly — the men 
 will have no eyes for me. 
 
 Umb. Lesson the first : — the pupil inducted into the delightful, hon- 
 orable art of fascinating other men than her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. No, no, child, not that antideluvian veil — lay that aside ; 
 at Mad. Fripperie's you must select a new one. 
 
 Umb. Lesson the second : — the pupil taught to despise all she pos- 
 sesses, that her husband's pocket may learn the improvement in her 
 taste ; they come — I'll try a lesson in another branch. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Sunnyside and Mrs. Umbraton, r. 2 e., dressed for 
 walking. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Ah, my dear Mr. Umbraton, how charmed I am to see 
 you ; I've just prevailed upon this little drudge of yours, to shake off 
 the dull toils of housewifery and treat the gay world with an hour of 
 her presence. 
 
 Umb. Are all the cheerful of mankind out of doors, Madam? 
 
 Mrs. Sun. That's fishing for a compliment, and therefore I'll not 
 indulge you; besides you misconceived me; by the gay world, I meant 
 the world of fashion. 
 
 Umb. True, I did misconceive you, then, for in my experience tho 
 gay world of mere fashion are generally the dullest set on earth. But 
 what is to become of those unfashionable jolly fellows who would fain 
 share their hilarity with their wives at home? 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Why, my dear sir, according to the most modern and ap- 
 proved rules of society, such people are treated as a species of fog, 
 
8 "a good felkow." 
 
 or damp air, out of which it is the province and duty of the beau-mode, 
 
 to remove the young and delicate flower, wife, as quickly as possible 
 
 Umb. To transplant it into the hot-house of frivolity and licentious- 
 ness, where, after a brief and artificial summer, the damps too soon 
 intrude in the more bitter form of penitential tears. 
 Mrs. Sun. Oh, lud ! you're in for a sermon, I see. 
 Umb. A charity sermon, Madam. Have you anything to give 1 
 Mrs. Sun. Yes, a word of advice. Never preach straight-laced doc- 
 trines to a fashionable congregation, or make your sermon a moment 
 longer than will suffice for the cursory contemplation of the most 
 modish toilets present, or — no matter how excellent your discourse, it 
 will be very apt to produce the effect of an old farce at a theatre, and 
 drive the auditors out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, fie, Celia ! surely no assemblage would be so inde- 
 corous as to - 
 
 Umb. Oh, yes they would, my dear. Mrs. Sunnysideis quite right; 
 the man who attacks the follies and vices of the age, may be read of a 
 hundred years after his death, but his life will very generally resemble 
 that of the actor in a worn out farce — he'll find himself a great talker 
 with no listeners. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. To which predicament I now sentence you ! so come 
 along, Mary, dear — [Mary crosses ivith Mrs. S., l.] — you can hear the 
 rest over the next half dozen collar strings, and give it to me in a re- 
 vised and abridged form whenever we have no new fashion to discuss. 
 Mrs. Umb. [To Umb.] You don't look pleased, dear, has anything 
 annoyed you 1 
 
 Umb. Nothing that you can exactly comprehend at present, Mary ; 
 but a letter from your brother has arrived from England, which more 
 than compensates for any trifling vexation I may feel. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. From dear brother George % oh, how delighted I am ; he 
 speaks too, of my dear, dear father and mother and all my equally 
 dear brothers and sisters. Oh, do let me see it, Felix, I cannot re- 
 strain my anxiety. 
 
 Umb. Nay, my child, why these ecstacies 1 'tis only a dull family 
 letter, full of straight laced doctrines. Mrs. Sunnyside is waiting for 
 you, and, as she justly observes of such matters, you can hear it over 
 the next half dozen collar strings, or I'll give it to you in a revised 
 and abridged form whenever you have no new fashion to discuss. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. " Thank you good sir, I owe you one." So then, I am not 
 to have your company, Mary 1 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, dear Celia, pray excuse me ; to you the loss of my 
 society will be nothing, but to me, one hour's delay in hearing from 
 my dear parents and family, separated from me by so many thousands 
 of watery miles, would render me at once the dullest companion and 
 the most unwilling of gadabouts. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. There, say no more. • You're incorrigible. I'm afraid I 
 must despair of ever making anything of you ; so adieu ! and remem- 
 ber, Mr. Parson, as the man says in the play, " I owe you one." 
 
 Umb. [Smiling.] The old farce of "Affection " you see, madam, can 
 still secure an audience. 
 
A GOOD FELLOW. 9 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Yes, but like the hackneyed play of Married Life, the 
 points are so well known, that we laugh more at the actors than the 
 jokes, after all. {Exit Mrs. Sun., 2. e. l., laughing. 
 
 Mrs. limb. [Laying aside her hat, §c] Oh, I'm so glad you did not 
 let me go without telling me of this letter, Felix, dear. Come — now 
 for it, I'm all impatience. 
 
 Umb. Sit down, Mary. [Places chairs — they sit. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Yes, dear — now then, where is it ? give it to me. 
 
 Umb. I can't, Mary, I haven't got it. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. [Rising.] Felix ! 
 
 Umb. Sit down, my dear ; you think I have deceived you, and you 
 are partly right. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. [Sits.] You have no letter forme, then? and you amused 
 me with the expectation, merely to prevent me going out. 
 
 Umb. Precisely. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Then, Felix, you have been guilty of a most ungenerous 
 subterfuge, and treated me as a school-girl, not as your wife. 
 
 Umb. Upon the surface, true ; but a letter is come, though not to 
 my hands, yet. 
 
 Mrs: Umb. Intolerable ! Is this, then, what I must expect? Is this 
 the sweet domestic peace you preach about — the peace of slavery ; 
 nay, worse than that ; the thraldom of the mind that must be still a 
 child's and know no will or purpose of its own. Ungrateful man, is 
 this the recompense for my close study of your every wish ? Too 
 easily, I find, we women may be led to acquiesce in the mere selfish 
 plans that husbands form to shut us from the world, debaring us the 
 harmless recreation of a cheerful friend's discourse and company, 
 only to keep us closer to the round of daily drudgery and domestic toil. 
 
 Umb. Have you finished, Mary ? 
 
 Mrs. Umb. No, Felix, not while you treat me as a silly fool. Let 
 me at least defend the slender brains a woman may possess. 
 
 Umb. Give proof of stouter wits my love, by closer lips ; one good 
 listener gains more than a thousand bad talkers. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Of course ; go on — I may as well be still. 
 
 Umb. Much better, trust me, or I'd not advise it. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. One question : is this to be a sermon or a catechism ? 
 
 Umb. Both, or neither ; — but I doubt not both. You're angry now, 
 and not quite in the mind to take, in the true spirit, such reproof as 
 the fierce onslaught I've endured deserves ; so I'll not scold, but state 
 myself the wrongs with which you charge me, only giving each the 
 simple benefit of fair excuse. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Proceed ! — yet stay : may I object, or must I take for 
 law 
 
 Umb. Only so much as that self-styled slender brain shall own is 
 just. [Kisses her forehead. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. [Umcillingly mollified.] Go on, Felix. 
 
 Mmb. You think that 1 maintain you in a style beneath our station? 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Others, no better off, live better. 
 
 Umb. And happier ? 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Why not? Does luxury mar happiness? 
 
10 "a good fellow. 
 
 Umb. It can't insure it, never can create ; it can but supervene 
 where happiness has risen from that surest basis — honesty. 
 
 3Irs. Umb. Is it dishonest to love luxury 1 
 
 Umb. No, not to love it — no, nor to indulge in it, just so far as good 
 sense prompts, and your purse will reach, without stretching. How 
 much does either license sway the Sunnysides 7 
 
 Mrs. Umb. They always appear happy. 
 
 Umb. I did not speak, love, of appearances ; many things seem that 
 never had reality. Your friends, the Sunnysides, who live in luxury, 
 never consider how it is procured. Their house was newly furnished ; 
 all the world applauded their fine taste ; within a twelvemonth the 
 upholsterer failed — the sum they owed him would have saved his 
 credit. Who thought of the upholsterer 1 he was a poor man just 
 beginning life — his wife had helped to earn the scanty capital with 
 which he started ; they were an honest pair — eat, drank and lodged 
 always within their means, and so began to thrive. At length, a gen- 
 tleman, living in style, (no matter how obtained,) gave him an order : 
 mark me — a gentleman who wore the latest fashions, gave great par- 
 ties, kept his trotting horse, and other fancies of like costly ilk that 
 call for money down ; whose lady-wife shone forth in rich brocades, 
 and sported, too, the most distingue carriage in the town. These 
 were the liberal patrons — and so thoughtful, too — they recommended 
 the upholsterer to several of their friends, who also gave him orders, 
 but no money : what of that 1 they were high people — fashionable 
 folks ! Alas ! he thought them so — mistook the tinsel for pure ore, 
 and gave them credit on their show of wealth : why, they were simply 
 swindlers, one and all — traders on false appearances and a name ob- 
 tained by lavish outlay in excesses of funds that should have paid their 
 butcher, tailor, and the host of those whose industry supplied their 
 actual wants. A crisis came — but with it no relief for the poor trades- 
 man ; your friends, the Sunnysides, were lavish in regrets — for all the 
 world swears Rushton's "A Good Fellow;" he took his creditor by 
 both his hands and shook them warmly — vowed it was a shame that 
 money was just then so "horrid tight" — gave him a glass of unin- 
 peachable Madeira, and left for Saratoga — there, in less then one short 
 month, to squander more than would have saved the upholsterer from 
 ruin; But Rushton Sunnyside was "A Good Fellow !" Oh, costly, 
 worthless title ! for the vile things of men who work the bellows to 
 that dulcet tune, soon stop his organ who can't raise the wind — so, 
 though starvation glare on all beside, the man who will be puffed 
 must pay the blowers. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. A shocking picture, Felix ; but may not a hundred 
 harmless pleasures be indulged, whose whole united cost could ruin 
 no one 1 
 
 Umb. If really harmless, yes — else not; come, name them. 
 Mrs. Umb. Well, now, the Sunnysides are going to the grand fete 
 on Thursday — is that extravagant 1 
 
 Umb. Ask their washerwoman, who duns them daily for one twen- 
 tieth part the sum that fete will cost them. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. They gave a hundred dollars to the fund being raised to 
 
" A GOOD FELLOW." 11 
 
 take young Pampermore out of prison — and he, you know, is of a 
 noble family. 
 
 Umb. A swindler ! And they refused five dollars to a poor widow, 
 whose husband broke his neck by falling from a house-top ; but true, 
 he was not of a noble family, and so the charity would make no noise. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. At least it is not much that they should have a seamstress 
 in the house. 
 
 Umb. The dearest item in their whole establishment ! 
 
 Mrs. Umb. What can that cost 7 
 
 Umb. The breach of plighted faith ! k 
 
 Mrs. Umb. [Rising.] Felix! 
 
 Umb. [Rising.] Shall we have a seamstress, Mary 1 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, Felix — husband ! Pardon — pardon ! 
 
 [ Throws herself on his neck. 
 
 Umb. Pardon ! — for what, my simple, honest wife 1 Because you've 
 quoted from a stupid book you couldn't understand 1 No pardon is 
 needed where no wrong is meant ; — and as for those who hawk such 
 wares abroad, to tempt the unwary from the paths of virtue, the very 
 ends they seek must work their punishment. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Dear Felix, I now see that happiness does not depend 
 upon frivolities, and shall but prize my home comforts the more for 
 the bright tints with which you've set them off, in opposition to the 
 clouded atmosphere of would-be fashion. 
 
 Umb. Ay, "would-be fashion!" that's the mischief, Mary. Let it 
 be our plan, by wise frugality, not sorded niggardness, to achieve the 
 means, and we may claim the right to live in any fashion, — nor doubt 
 a cordial Avelcome to the ranks of the only true aristocracy, — Mind 
 and Merit ! 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Outside.] Don't leave the horses' heads, Bob. I 
 shan't be five minutes. 
 
 Umb. Hark ! Here comes Rushton Sunnyside. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Let me go to my room. 
 
 Umb. No, no ! remain, by all means. You'll understand me better 
 after hearing him, now. He's just the kind of glossary that will ex- 
 pound me clearly. 
 
 Enter Rushton Sunnyside, l. 2 e. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Ah, my dear Felix, how are you 7 ? [Takesboth Umbra- 
 ton's hands and shakes them cordially — crosses c] My dear Mrs. Um- 
 braton, I shall achieve a great success in your mission: don't look wise, 
 old fellow ; — shan't tell you anything about it. But come — I've got my 
 team of 2 : 40's at the door — want you to come with me, Felix. Go- 
 ing to give 'em a slight brush on the Avenue. Thousand apologies, 
 my dear Mrs. Umbraton, on behalf of my trap, that is, pray excuse 
 me — waggon — to ears polite ; these horrid things are only capable of 
 two outside — literally not room to talk in it; shameful thing, as far 
 as ladies are concerned — but not my fault, upon my word. Insisted 
 on having a thing built with unmistakable seats in it — really something 
 to sit upon, so that Celia might ride with me sometimes; — builder 
 wouldn't do it ; — said I didn't care what the cost might be ; — no use, 
 
12 "a good fellow. 1 
 
 wouldn't go to work — can't imagine why. All I could get for answer 
 was, that as he was not in the habit of executing such peculiar orders 
 as mine, there might be some failure, in some way or other, connected 
 with it, and that, therefore — in fact — he'd rather not. Celia was so 
 angry that she found some fellow immediately that had a great 
 Noah's-ark sort of a coach for sale, and she told him to send it home 
 instantly. I've no idea what she means to do with it ; it looks to me 
 as if it would be a capital thing, with the wheels off, for one of those 
 patent incubators. Can't conceive anything more honestly air tight. 
 The internal warmth of the contrivance must be intense, — struck me 
 for a moment that I should like, of all things, to be a dozen of eggs, 
 for the mere luxury of being hatched so handsomely, 
 
 Umb. A strange conceit, Rushton. But pray, what did you pay for 
 this eccentric vehicle 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Gad, the drollery of the deuced thing put me into such 
 inordinate good humor that I told the fellow I didn't much care what 
 he charged for it. He laughed — confound him — and I felt, for the 
 moment, as if some one that I didn't care to mention was very likely 
 to be taken in. 
 
 Umb. Didn't he betray any such suspicion 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. No, no, hang him ; that will no doubt appear when he 
 sends his bill in. But come, Felix, — I know Mrs. Umbraton will 
 spare you for an hour. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, sir, Mr. Umbraton will be guided by his inclina- 
 tions ; I should be sorry to say that I can ever spare him. 
 
 Rush. Sun. There, Felix, that's a new brocade, or a suit of sables 
 to your account at least. I'm witness to the extent of the compli- 
 ment, and, on behalf of Mrs. Umbraton, I insist on full remuneration 
 for value received. 
 
 Umb. With all my heart. [Crosses.] I don't generally offer more 
 than my note of hand in such cases, except in private ; however, no- 
 thing like prompt payments, so there, Mary. [He kisses her. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Oh, shameful ! that's discounting your own note at a 
 most usurous rate of interest. 
 
 Umb. A paradox, Rushton. It is the amount of interest that we 
 take in such transactions that insures their legality. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Right, Felix ; and we wives only complain of feeling 
 the discount when our husbands can no longer take any interest. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Oh, dear, I can never stand this ; you are too much for 
 me. I must begone. But come, Felix, you will ride with me 1 
 Umb. No, Rushton, thank you. 
 Rush. Sun. Oh, hang it, — why not 1 
 Umb. I can't afford it. 
 Rush. Sun. Afford ! what's that 1 
 
 Umb. A pertinent question, truly. Why, simply, that I have neither 
 carriage nor horses, nor the means to hire them — and therefore I 
 can't return the compliment. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Compliment ! Stuff and nonsense, my dear fellow — it's 
 no compliment ; people expect me to have fast horses, so of course I 
 have 'em — and people ride with me because, I suppose, they find it 
 pleasant. 
 
"A GOOD FELLOW." 13 
 
 Umb. And cheap. Rushton, no truly independent man will ever 
 sponge upon the fortunes or the follies of his friend. If my pocket 
 can'taflbrd to share in an extravagance, my pride forbids participation 
 at another's cost. I am no churl. I can dine with a man whose 
 honest wealth sanctions a dinner for a prince, and the one simple dish 
 my slender purse restricts me to, when he becomes my guest, calls up 
 no blush of shame or inequality. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Ton my life, Felix, you're a riddle, and I give you up. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. I've made two or three stupid guesses at him lately, 
 Mr. Sunnyside, but I think I solve him now. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Never solved anything or anybody in the whole course 
 of my life. In fact, I've remarked, as an invariable rule, that so sure 
 as I set my stupid wits at a man, with a view to solve him, it was 
 always certain to end in his proving insolvent. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Outside l.] Nonsense, my good man, it must be a mis- 
 take ; I'll satisfy you of that in a moment. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Hollo ! Celia's voice. Something wrong about the 
 patent incubator ; there's mischief hatching, evidently. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Sunnyside, l., 2 e. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Excited.] My dear Rushton, is it your intention to move 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Move, my dear 1 I've been going for the last half-hour, 
 but Felix says no. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Says no— I should think so, indeed ; but there are two 
 low persons down stairs who — to use their own unintelligible jargon- 
 say, that if you don't " poney up," they seize ! 
 
 Mr. & Mrs. Umb. Seize 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Poney up ! Sees ! What do they see 1 my ponies, my 
 2 : 40's 1 well, what do they think of theml 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Rushton, don't be an idiot ; the fellows say they have 
 instructions to remove every article of furniture out of our house. 
 
 Umb. Is it come to this 1 [Aside. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Move— remove ! That's what it is to keep 2 : 40's and 
 go against time. I started, as it seemed to me this morning, in Feb- 
 ruary, and have driven so fast that I'm right up to the 1st of May, 
 without knowing it. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Tearfulhj.] The 1st of April, rather, and a pretty fool 
 you're being made. [Mrs. Umbraton goes to Mrs. Sunnyside. 
 
 Umb. Rushton, be serious, for decency's sake ! 
 
 Rush. Sun, Serious, my dear fellow ! What do you all mean 1 I 
 pledge you my word I've given no orders for any moving— why the 
 deuce should 1 1 Landlord's the nicest old creature in the world. 
 Other people are bothered about rents, and that sort of thing— and 
 yet it isn't more than three months ago that he said if I couldn't spare 
 any money— which of course I could not— he was willing to take some 
 document or other that would answer the purpose. Of course I con- 
 sented— though I didn't exactly see what practical use that was to him, 
 as it seemed mainly to consist' of an inventory of pots and pans, and 
 chairs and tables. 
 
 Umb. Exactly— a chattel mortgage, most likely— and the next flag 
 
14 " A GOOD FELLOW." 
 
 your 2 : 40's will come up to, will be the red flag of the auctioneer. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Nonsense! you don't mean that 1 Confound his chattel 
 mortgage! I don't want to sell anything. [Goes to window.] Eh! 
 why, hang the rascals, what are they at ] [All run to window, c. 
 
 Umb. Carrying out the condition of the chattel mortgage. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Yes, my dear fellow — but they're carrying out the fur- 
 niture, also. 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Oh, Rushton, stop them at any rate ! 
 
 Rush. Sun. At any rate ! yes — but how am I to stop that chap that's 
 driving off my trotters 1 I know devilish well I can't stop him at any 
 rate slower than 2 : 40. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Can nothing be done to save your property 1 
 
 Umb. Nothing but paying the landlord, that I see. 
 
 Rush. Sun. Who wants to see anything better than that ? by jove, 
 it's a capital idea ; I shouldn't have dreamt of such a thing in ten 
 years ; first-rate, my dear fellow — pay him and astonish him ! 
 
 Umb. I pay him 1 why the amount is, no doubt, far beyond my 
 means, even if I 
 
 Rush. Sun. A bagatelle — $1,300. 
 
 Umb. Nearly my whole year's income ; I can't afford it, Rushton. 
 
 Rush. Sun. There's that infernal word again ; just now you couldn't 
 afford to oblige me in a way that wouldn't cost you a penny — and now 
 you can't afford to oblige me, when the outlay would be absolutely 
 respectable — not to say handsome. 
 
 Mrs, Umb. [Crosses r. c.J Felix, dear, wouldn't my little legacy 
 help to 
 
 Rush. Sun. I've not a doubt it would, if it were to try. 
 
 Umb. What ! No, Mary ; not to prolong such fickle sunshine one 
 short hour. In days gone by I've started out in many a pelting 
 storm, so poorly clad that, but for the sweet smile and warm embrace 
 that shut out thought of cold, the flesh had winced of many a stouter 
 man than I ; and this I bore, rather than filch one coin from that 
 small store that might ward off a rainy day from you. Who has the 
 courage, then, to ask for that 1 
 
 Mrs. Sun. [Tearfully.] Oh, no, no! not for all the world. [Mrs. 
 Umbraton goes up stage, l. to Mrs. Sunnyside. 
 
 Rush. Sun. My dear Celia, you talk nonsense. You know I make 
 no pretentions to extraordinary courage ; but although I wouldn't 
 think of asking such a loan for all the world, I think I could muster 
 nerve enough to accept it for part of the furniture. 
 
 Umb. No, Rushton ; I will not lend to you. 
 
 Rush. Sun. You wont 1 Well, I always took you for a Good 
 Fellow ! 
 
 Umb. And you shall find me one : but not the world's Good Fellow 
 that you mean, who, now that you are broken, will pass by you. I 
 daren't afford to minister to faults with which I'll not upbraid ycu in 
 your fall. But I can, ay, and will afford the shelter of my roof to 
 you and yours, till time and dear experience shall prove there's 
 something better far, worth living for, than that misnomer you havG 
 lived alone for — "A Good Fellow." 
 
"a good fellow." 15 
 
 Mrs. Sun. Mary, dear, I'm very thankful for your generous offer, 
 and Mr. Unibraton is quite right in all that he has said ; but my re- 
 solve is made. As for you, sir, [crossing to Rush. Sun.,] I have 
 only this to say : You married me, representing yourself as a man of 
 fortune ; — I threw myself away solely on that consideration, and 
 therefore I shall go immediately home to my family, and make them 
 prosecute you for obtaining goods under false pretences. 
 
 ]Exit, crying, l. d., 2 e. 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Appearing wounded.] She's gone ! Cruel, ungrateful 
 and unfeeling woman ! Is this my recompense for all 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Oh, Mr. Sunnyside, don't despair. Celia, I'm sure, 
 will never think of leaving you : don't think her capable 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Affecting distress.] No, no! it isn't that; it is not that/ 
 
 Umb. All may be well yet, Rushton. Remain here till 
 
 Rush. Sun. No, Felix, no; I'll never leave her. I swore to cleave 
 only unto her, and cleave 1 will, though she cuts me. 
 
 Umb. Never fear but her heart will turn to you, despite all this 
 unpleasantry. 
 
 Rush. Sun. [Rises and walks to l.] It isn't that — it isn't that. No, 
 I could bear much, even the loss of her affection ; but I never can 
 desert her interest. 
 
 Mrs. Umb. Generous man ! 
 
 Umb. Her interest 1 
 
 Rush. Sun. Yes, Felix, yes : the world may think me thoughtless 
 and upbraid me with frivolity, but never will I desert her while I can 
 stretch forth this hand to receive and cherish the interest on her por- 
 tion of ten thousand dollars. [Exit l. 2 e. 
 
 Umb. (l.) Ah, Mary, is that happiness 1 Self— only self— the 
 spring of both their minds. Good riddance then, and welcome once 
 again to sweet Content ; and if I have not been so severe towards 
 them as such faults deserve, I trust it will only be looked upon in the 
 light of that charity we all need, and induce those before us to view 
 as leniently the demerits of 
 
 "A GOOD FELLOW." 
 Time — 10 Minutes. 
 
MASSEY'S 
 
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 AND 
 
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 ADAPTED FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES. 
 
 BY CHARLES MASSE Y, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 No. I . Contains: 
 
 Little Jim, Mary Queen of Scots, 
 
 Guy Fawkes, (an Historical Drama) Mesmerism, (Petite Comedy) 
 
 The Mourners, The Little Vulgar Boy, 
 
 The Man with the Carpet-Bag, (Farce) The Sea Liberty's Emblem, 
 
 White Horse of the Peppers, (Comic Miscellaneous. 
 Drama.) 
 
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 131 NASSAU-STREET. 
 
FRENCH'S AL.? 
 
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 018 604 238 4 4 
 
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 Prick 12J Cents each. — Bound Volumes 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 1. Midsummer Night's 
 
 Dream. 
 
 2. Popping the Question. 
 
 3. La 'I our de Nesle. 
 
 4. De'if as a Post. 
 
 5. There^e ; or. the Or- 
 
 phan of Geneva. 
 
 6. Flying Dutchman. 
 
 7. New Footman. 
 
 8. Pleasant Neighbor. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 25. Game of Life. 
 
 26. Little Treasure. 
 
 27. King Charming. 
 
 28. Pocahonias. 
 
 29. Romance. & Reality. 
 
 30. Sea of Ice 
 
 31. CI- ckmaker's Hat. 
 
 32. "Married R;,ke. 
 
 VOL. VII. 
 
 49. Married Life. 
 
 50. Tom Cringle. 
 
 51. Swiss ( ottage. 
 
 52. Jane Eyre. 
 
 53 Y 0U11 K Widow. 
 
 54 Wenlockof Wenlock 
 55. O'FJan igati and Fai- 
 50. Irish Post. [ries 
 
 VOL. X. 
 
 (In Press). 
 73. Tempest. 
 -74. A Good Fellow. 
 75. Cherry and Fair Star 
 7(3. Gale Breezly. 
 77. Esmerelda. 
 7-s. Our Jemima. 
 
 79. Miller's Maid. 
 
 80. Pet*r Wilkir.s. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 9. Ireland As It Is. 
 
 10. Game of Love. 
 
 11. Ka-Pickerof Par 
 
 12. Paddy the Piper 
 
 13. Ernestine. 
 
 14. Dombey & Son. 
 
 15. Seven Clerks. 
 Hi. Bryan O'Lynn. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
 33. King's Rival. 
 
 34. Love and Murder. 
 
 35. Carpenter of Rouen. 
 30. Ireland and America. 
 
 37. Jewess. [ness 
 
 38. Pretty Piece of Busi- 
 
 39. Irish Broom Maker. 
 
 40. ./Ethiop. 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 17. Irish Assurance. 
 
 18. David Copperfield. 
 
 19. Ugalino 
 
 20. Temptation. 
 
 21. Forty Thieves. 
 
 22. Paddy Carey. 
 
 23. Brian Boroihme. 
 
 24. Two Gregories. 
 
 VOL. VI. 
 
 41. Pilot. 
 
 42. Pauline. [£5. 
 
 43. To Paris and Back for 
 
 44. That Blessed Baby. 
 
 45. To Parents & Guardians 
 
 46. Three Guardsmen. 
 
 47. Our Gal. 
 
 48. Night and Morning. 
 
 VOL. VIII. VOL. IX. 
 
 57. Henriette, the Forsaken 65. Camille.' 
 
 58. Aline the Rose of Killar- 06. Eustache Baudin. 
 
 59. My 1 eighboFs Wife.[ny 
 
 60. Irish Tiger. 
 
 61. French Spy. 
 
 62. Rose of Itrickvale. 
 
 63. P P., or the Man & Tiger 
 04 To Oblige Benson 
 
 VOL. XI. 
 
 *■ (In Press). 
 
 81. Ben the Boatswain. 
 
 82. Awkward Arrival. 
 
 83 Ken Bolt. 
 
 84 Crossing the Line. 
 85 
 Mi. Two Queens. 
 
 87. Thumping Legacy, 
 
 88. Jonathan I'radford. 
 
 67. Earnest Maltravers. 
 
 68. Bold Dragoons. 
 
 09. W(ptofWish-ton-Wish 
 
 70. State Secrets. 
 
 71. Irish Yankee. 
 
 72. Last Days of Pompeii. 
 
 VOL. XII. 
 
 (in Press). 
 
 89. Bold Stoke for a Hus- 
 
 90. Crown Prince, [band. 
 91. 
 
 92. Sailor of France. 
 
 93. Unfinished Gentleman. 
 94. 
 
 95. House Dog. 
 
 96. Mi .eralli. 
 
 Mr. F. has over 100,(00 Plays to fill orders from, published in Europe and America. 
 Plays se t by Vail on receipt of Price. 
 
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