NO PL.AYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 'Dtwcr's Edition'I 
 or PLnY:5 
 
 The 
 
 Village Post 
 Office 
 
 CO^YRK^HT, 1989. BY WALTCR H. BAKER « Ct^ 
 
A. W. PINERO'S PLAYS. I 
 
 Uniformly Bound in Stiff Paper Covers, 
 Price, 50 cents eacli. 
 
 Thb publication of the plays of this popular author, made feasible by the new 
 Copyright Act, under which his valuable stage rights can be fully protected, 
 enables us to offer to amateur actors a series of modern pieces of the highest 
 class, all of which have met with distinguished success in the leading English 
 and American theatres, and most of whichare singularly well adapted for ama- 
 teur performance. This publication was originally intended for the benefit of 
 readers only, but the increasing demand for the plays for acting purposes has 
 far outrun their merely literary success. With the idea of placing this excel- 
 lent series within the reach of the largest possible number of amateur clubs, we 
 have obtained authority to offer them for acting purposes at an author's roy- 
 alty of 
 
 Ten Dollars for Each Performance. 
 
 This rate does not apply to pro/esaional performances, for which terms will be 
 made known on application. 
 
 W 
 
 'TTJT7 A lUt A 7<^1MQ i A. Farcical Romance in Three Acts. By Abthite 
 1 rUi .ftavi/V£-Wl^w>«J ^ PiNERO. Seven male and five female char- 
 ' * acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior 
 and an interior, not at all diflBcult. This admirable farce is too well known 
 through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company, New York, to 
 need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schools and 
 colleges. (1895.) 
 
 THE CABINET MINISTER. 
 
 Costumes, modern society 
 
 geniouB in con8tru<*tion, and brilliant in dialogue. 
 
 A Farce in Four Acts. By 
 Arthur W. Pinero. Ten male 
 and nine female characters. 
 
 scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- 
 
 (1892.) 
 
 SI 
 
 DANDYDiaCJ 
 
 A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. 
 Seven male, four female characters. Costumes, mod- 
 ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece 
 was another success in the New York and Boston theatreSj and has been ex- 
 tensively played from manuscript by amateurs, for whom it is in every respect 
 sviited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very funny, 
 and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half . (1893.) 
 
 THE HOBBY HORSE. 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur 
 "W. Pinero. Ten male, five female char- 
 acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- 
 terior ; costumes, modern. This piece is best known in this country through the 
 ■ • -- - - -- ^ , ,^ - ^. — J J ;x j_ _ii ..1 rincipal 
 
 T 
 '^) 
 
 ah'M admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
 
 %•/ cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philanthropy, and is full of 
 
 ^i'A interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it ban been suocess- 
 
 \ff fully acted. Plays two hours and a half . (1892.) 
 
 3K T AT^V U/^T TIMTTRT TT I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. 
 
 Ck'A i^/VI^I JDV^UIN lirUi.^* PiKERO. Eight male and seven female char- 
 
 jjr ' acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four 
 
 M^f interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, a little sombre in 
 
 jff key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 
 
 f 
 
The Village Post-Office 
 
 By JESSIE A. KELLEY ^ 
 
 Author of " The Pedlers' Parade;' " Squire Judkin's 
 
 Apple Bee^' " Her Weekly Allowance ;' " Miss 
 
 Prini' s Kifidergarte?!;' ** Santa's Surprise^"* etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
 1907 
 
Two CoDt«6 Raceivad I 
 
 AUG 20*90^ 
 
 Cooyrufht Entry 
 
 COPY 
 
 The Village Post-Office 
 
 CHARACTERS ^n 
 
 William Jones, postmaster. 
 
 Jerushy Jones, his wife. 
 
 Elyzabythe Jones, their daughter^ just home from hoard- 
 ing school, very affected. 
 
 James Henry Jones, their son, about sixtee7i years of age ; 
 a green country boy. 
 
 Colonel Gibson, big story-teller. 
 
 Joseph Robinson, bigger story-teller. 
 
 Silas Hardhack, still bigger story-teller. 
 
 Deacon Slocum, horse trader. 
 
 LiZY Ann Slocum, his ivife. 
 
 Betsey Win slow, dressmaker. 
 
 Rev. Tobias Dusenberry. 
 
 Reitben Ricks, who stutters. 
 
 Susan Smith, ivho helps Mrs. Jones. 
 
 Widow Gray. 
 
 Lee Sing, a Chinaman. 
 
 Mrs. Joseph Robinson. 
 
 Mary Ann Stedman, deaf. 
 
 Cyrus Depew, town philanthropist. 
 
 Copyright, 1907, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
The Village Post-Office 
 
 CHARACTERS {continued) 
 
 Samanthy Depew, his wife. 
 
 Mandy Baker, believer in Woman' s Rights. 
 
 Job Baker, her m^ek husband. 
 
 Patrick O' Mulligan. 
 
 Doctor Dolllver. 
 
 Delilah Martin. 
 
 Mrs. Briggs, who has recently come from the city. 
 
 Claudius Briggs, her son. 
 
 Norah Cassidy, Mrs. Briggs' hired girl. 
 
 Italian. 
 
 Jonathan Abner, 
 
 r- \ r '^^'Jio have visited the city. 
 
 Cynthia Abner, j -^ 
 
 Marthy Reynolds, a comforting friend. 
 
 Hans Schneider, a German. 
 
 Francis St. Clair Bigelow, agent ; very dudish. 
 
 Matildy Hoxie, who knows all the news. 
 
 Zeke Hines, who is7i't very bright. 
 
 Henry VVithrow, 
 
 Katie Dusenberry, 
 
 Annie Goodwin, 
 
 Bobbie Robinson, V children. 
 
 Jennie Brown, 
 
 Johnnie Dolliver, 
 
 Mary Slocum, 
 
 One person may take several parts. Widow Gray, Mrs. 
 Robinson and Matildy Hoxie can be taken by one, Reuben 
 Ricks and Zeke Hines by one, doctor and minister by one, 
 Cxerman and Italian by one, Joseph Robinson and dude by 
 one. Other parts may be doubled also and some characters 
 may be easily omitted if desired. 
 
COSTUMES 
 
 The costumes should be such as are usually found in a coun- 
 try town, women with calico wrappers or dresses, shawls, bon- 
 nets, etc. ; men with overalls, long-legged boots. James, 
 Henry and Reuben should have suits partly outgrown, Zeke a 
 rather grotesque get-up, doctor and minister ordinary suits, 
 Lee Sing, Chinese dress, Mrs. Briggs quite dressy, her son, a 
 large boy dressed Lord Fauntleroy style, Norah, very slatternly. 
 
 STAGE ARRANGEMENT 
 
 The stage arrangement is very simple. Some tables with 
 dark cambric tacked on falling to floor will answer for counters. 
 A small-paned window with one light out and pigeon holes ar- 
 ranged with pasteboard forms the post-office. A few hanging 
 shelves can be arranged on which place empty boxes of break- 
 fast foods, empty cans of various kinds which can easily be 
 saved by the society and a few pieces of cloth which can be 
 borrowed from a store. Men's overalls, rubber boots, brooms, 
 anything to make it look like a typical country store may be 
 hung around and various signs and posters tacked up. A 
 small stove around which the men sit is an addition but may be 
 dispensed with. Kegs will answer for chairs. Have show- 
 case containing candy, spools, etc., on counter if possible. 
 Arrange one side for groceries, etc., the other side for dry 
 goods. 
 
 RECITATIONS 
 
 '* Priscilla Prim's Views on Woman's Rights" may be 
 found in Number Twenty-seven One Hundred Choice Selec- 
 tions, price thirty cents, and Maud Muller in Number Thirty, 
 price thirty cents. Other recitations and songs may also be 
 introduced. A few stories and jokes have been used by cour- 
 tesy of Judge Publishing Company, New York. 
 
The Village Post-Office 
 
 SCENE. — See note ofi page 4. Mrs. Jones is discovered ar- 
 rauging some goods on shelf. 
 
 ]\Irs. Jones {calls). Susan, Susan. 
 
 Susan {poking head in door). What d'ye want, Mis' 
 Jones ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Susan, you git the fire started and put on some 
 pertaters to bile. It's most six o'clock and William will be 
 gitting home purty quick with his load of goods an' the mail, 
 tired and hungry, and some good fried salt pork and biled per- 
 taters' 11 taste drefful good to him, I reckon. 
 
 Sus. Yes, all right, Mis' Jones, I'll have 'em on in a jiffy. 
 (Sus. goes out but returns immediately.) Mis' Jones, I can't 
 cook the taters. There ain't no wood cut. It's all gone. 
 
 Mrs. J. Well, Susan, why didn't you tell me 'twas all gone 
 before this time of day ? 
 
 Sus. Well, it wasn't all gone before and when it wasn't all 
 gone, how could I tell you it was all gone when it wasn't all 
 gone. 
 
 Mrs'. J. I'll call James Henry and see if he's got some cut 
 as I told him to. 
 
 Sus. {^goes out, muttering'). That lazy good-fer-nothin' 
 clown, don't believe he's got a stick cut. 
 
 Mrs. J. {going to door, calls, louder each time). James, 
 James Henry, James Hen-e-ry — James. 
 
 James Henry {outside). What ye want now, ma ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Where's that wood I sent ye to cut two hours jigo ? 
 Here it's time to git supper and not a stick of wood in the 
 wood-box and your father'll be here in a few minits and no 
 vittles ready fer him. Come along quick now and bring in an 
 armful and some kindlin'. 
 
 Jam. {ivith few pieces of wood on one arm, sometliing in 
 other arm held behind back). Here ye are, ma ! 
 
 ]\Irs. J. Is that all the wood you've got cut ? 
 
 Jam. Yes, maw, that's all I've had time ter. 
 
6 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mrs. J. What's that you've got behind yer? 
 
 Jam. Nothiii'. 
 
 Mrs. J. {takes hold of arm a7id jerks it round fro?it ; wood 
 falls on floor). That tells the- story, you shiftless creature, 
 you've bin waslin' time diggin' those air wiggHn' worms 'stead 
 of cuttin' wood as you're told. Now take that wood inter the 
 kitchen, then hustle out to thet woodpile and work till supper 
 time or I'll tell yer father and he'll dust yer jacket. (Jam. 
 picks tip ivood, takes it into kitchen^ then passes through 
 store, out other door, where a few strokes of the axe are 
 heard, then silence. Enter Mary Slocum.) How-de-do, 
 Mary ? What d'you want ter-night ? 
 
 Mary. Ma wants two pounds of butter 'zactly like you sent 
 her 'fore and if it isn't jest like that she told me not ter take it. 
 
 Mrs. J. Did she like the last very much ? I thought your 
 ma was makin' her own butter now. 
 
 Mary. Yes, she is, we've gut some elergaut butter she 
 made but yer see some of our city relations are rubberin' 
 round to see if they want ter light on us fer the summer but 
 ma says she's onto 'em and she's gut some eggs the old hen's 
 bin settin' on fer a week and some skim milk, kinder sour, she 
 was a goin' to give to the pigs and if she can git some of thet 
 butter like yer sent her before she thinks it'll fix 'em so they 
 wunt stay long. 
 
 Mrs. J. Here's yer butter, Mary, and^ tell yer ma I hope 
 it'll do the work. (^Exit Mary.) I don't blame Lizy Slocum 
 a bit. The way those forty-second cousins of hern do try to 
 git free board fer the summer beats all. I notice there are 
 never no invitations fer Lizy to visit them in the winter. 
 Some folks is sponges. Susan — Susan. (Sus. enters.) Got 
 the fire made ? 
 
 Sus. Yes, Mis' Jones, I've gut it made but 'less Jim Henry 
 brings in some more wood purty quick 't won't stay made 
 long. 
 
 Mrs. J. Isn't there some lettuce in the pantry, Susan ? 
 
 Sus. Yes, Mis' Jones, I think I seed some in there. 
 
 Mrs. J. I reckon we'd better hev that 'fore it's all wilted. 
 You can wash thet while the pertaters are bilin'. 
 
 Sus. All right. Mis' Jones. (^Goes out but reappears at 
 once.) Mis* Jones, I guess I'll have to hev some soap to wash 
 the lettis with. Used up all the soap I hed in the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. J. Don't you know any better than to wash lettis 
 with soap ? Use clear water and plenty of it. (Sus. starts 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE. 7 
 
 to go out.) Say, Susan, hev you made thet puildin' I told 
 yer to? 
 
 Sus. Gut it in the oven and it looks fine as a fiddle, but 
 how' 11 I know when it's done ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Stick a knife into it and if it comes out clean, 
 it's done and you can take it out. 
 
 Jam, {coming in door with armful of wood). Say, Susan, 
 if thet knife comes out clean, stick all the rest of the knives in 
 the house in, then p'raps we'll have 'em clean fer once. 
 
 Sus. Think yer smart, don't ye? Come here and let me 
 put your head in to see if 'twould clean yer face. 
 
 [Sticks out tongue at him and goes out. Jam. chases her 
 with stick of wood. Calls of ^^ Whoa / Wiioa there f 
 outside. Two men bring in large box, set it up on end^ 
 showing printed on it in large letters : " Bill Inside.'") 
 
 Mrs. J. What on airth is thet great box ? [Reads.) "■ Bill 
 Inside." (Shrieks and wrings hands.) Oh, Bill Jones, Bill 
 Jones, what has happened to you ? Oh, Liz ! Liz I Jim 
 Henry ! Jim Henry ! Liz ! Come quick ! Come quick ! 
 
 (Jam. rushes in. Elyzabythe enters slowly.) 
 
 Elyzabythe. Mama, will you kindly remember that my 
 name is Elyzabythe and so designate me when you have oc- 
 casion to communicate with me. 
 
 Mrs. J. Oh, Liz — Elyzabythe, do you hear? Your poor 
 father has been killed and his poor remains are inside that box 
 'cause it says on it '< Bill Inside." Jmi Henry, run quick, run 
 quick and get some one to open it and take the poor man out. 
 Oh, dear ! Oh, dear me ! 
 
 (Jam. rushes out but returjis. Elyz. coolly walks over to 
 box and examines.) 
 
 Elyz. Mama, this box simply contains some wearing apparel 
 which I purchased before coming home from college and had 
 the bill sent with the goods. The bill of the goods is inside 
 the box. 
 
 Mr:s. J. Is that what it means ? It did give me an awful 
 start ! Well, I'm thankful if yer father is still alive but p'raps 
 when he sees thet air bill it'll be the death of him arter all. 
 Do you mean to say thet box is full of '' wearing 'parel " as ye 
 Call it ? 
 
8 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Elyz. Yes, those are a few of the many articles which I 
 found it necessary for me to purchase in order to present an 
 attractive appearance among my associates in the high institu- 
 tion of learning upon my return. \^Exii Elyz. 
 
 Mrs. J. If a body ever wants to bring down ther gray 
 hairs in sorrer to the grave they jist want to send their darters 
 off to boarding school. Sich nonsensical, high-faluting idees 
 as they git into their heads. Their fathers and mothers ain't 
 good enough fer them to wipe their feet on. Wearing 'parel, 
 indeed. Jim Henry, you take that air box of wearing 'parel 
 out of my sight lively. 
 
 (Jam. takes out box. Team heard outside; cries of: 
 " IVhoa ! Whoa thar, Molly ./ ") 
 
 Mr. Jones {outside^. Jim Henry ! Jim ! Hi, there, Jim, 
 hurry up out here and take these horses. (^Enters with mail- 
 bag over shoulder.') I'm stiff as an old horse settin' on thet 
 hard wagon seat so long. Got supper most ready, mother? 
 I'm half starved. Ain't et nothin' sence breakfast but a leetle 
 cracker and cheese. 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, supper's all ready, I guess. Lots of mail 
 ter-night, ain't there? You go right out and git supper, and 
 James Henry and me will git this mail stamped and put up 
 'fore the folks begin comin' in. 
 
 (Mr. Jones goes into kitchefi. Jam. e?iters. Mrs. J. closes 
 office window and she and ] am. stamp and put letters and 
 papers in boxes. Enter Joseph Robinson, ivalks around 
 store, then seats himself by stove. Enter Colonel 
 Gibson.) 
 
 Joseph. Evenin', Colonel. We air goin' to hev rain, I 
 reckon. My old jints been achin' all day and it alius storms 
 when the rheumatiz ketches me like that. 
 
 Colonel. Looks like a storm. Dunno but'll be snow. 
 
 Jos. Guess not, 'tain't Sunday. Snow-storms alius dew 
 here 'bout Sunday night. 
 
 Col. Think ye're a weather prophet, do ye ? Well, I hope 
 ye strike it righter offener'n them air fellers at Washington. 
 If it says rain when I'm a hayin' I jist hustle 'round and git 
 down a good lot of grass 'cause I'm purty nigh sartain to hev 
 good weather. 
 
 Jos. I don't sot up to be no great of a weather prophet but 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 9 
 
 my wife alius washes Monday even if the circus comes to town 
 that day and, by jiminy, 1 never knew it to fail thet I didn t 
 hev to git up and shovel a path Monday mornin' so's she could 
 hang out thet pesky washing. Jest my luck I 
 
 Col. Speakin' 'bout rain reminds me of a rain we had 
 onct when I was in the army. It began with big drops, kinder 
 scatterin' like, and kep' a growin' harder. I was outside my 
 tent, about as fer away frum it as across this room and thought 
 I'd better be making tracks fer it so I picked up a bucket I 
 hed, swung it on my arm and run fer that tent and before 1 
 gut half way there, thet bucket was runnin' over, plumb full 
 and runnin' over. Yes-sir-ee and it wan't further then acrost 
 this store. Thet was a rain. 
 
 Jos. That makes me think of a rain we hed onct when I 
 wuz a boy. I stood looking out the winder watchin' a flock of 
 wild ducks go over and would you believe it, Colonel, it rained 
 so hard them ducks jest simply folded their wings and swum 
 along in the air. Don't hev any sich rains nowadays. 
 
 Enter Deacon Slocum and wife, Lizy Ann. 
 
 Mrs. Slocum. Good-evenin', Colonel. Good-evenin', 
 Joseph. (Dea. also speaks to both.) How air all your 
 folks, Joseph ? 
 
 Jos. Purty well, thank ye. My wife's bin over to spend 
 a few days with her mother but she gut back las' night. Her 
 mother's bin kinder sickly this winter and Phrony went over 
 and did a batch of cookin' that would sorter help out fer a 
 spell. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. There, I told Phineas when we druv by your 
 house yesterday that 1 didn't b'lieve Phrony was to hum 'cause 
 ev'ry curtain in thet house was pushed up to a diff 'rent angle. 
 Knew thet wan't Phrony's honsekeepin'. She's sich a worker. 
 How's your wife, Colonel ? 
 
 Col. She's well. Betsey Winslow's bin sewin' fer her to- 
 day, bin makin' her a new dress. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. Dew tell. Well your wife' 11 know all the news 
 fur ten miles 'round if she's had Betsey a day. [Mail window 
 opens. Col., Jos. and Dea. get pape7-s and return to stove. 
 Mrs. Slo. gets letter which she tur?is over and over, tries to read 
 postmark, etc.) Well, now, I dew wonder who this can be 
 frum ; more folks thet love their country cousins. I'll hev five 
 yards of crash fur a couple of roller tow'ls, Mis' Jones. 
 
10 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 (Mrs. J. a /id Mrs. Slo. go over to other side of store?) 
 
 Mrs. J. Hovv'd you come out with theai relatives ye hed 
 to supper, Lizy ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Slo. \laughing heartily). Oh, I fixed 'em all right. 
 They'd bin a-tellin' how they doted on new butter, rich, 
 creamy milk, fresh eggs, my lovely home-made biskits an' pre- 
 sarves, and how they'd enjoy spendin' the summer with me and 
 how nice 'twould be fur the men-folks to cum down onct in a 
 while to spend Sunday. Well, I jist made some biskits green 
 with sody, put on some of my ras' berry presarve thet had fo- 
 mented, cooked some eggs the old yaller hen had been a-settin' 
 on nigh onto two weeks, some sour, skim milk and thet air 
 butter you sent me and sot 'em down to supper, and if 
 ever you see a disgusted lookin' lot of mortals them was and I 
 didn't? hear another word about spendin' the summer tvith me. 
 Guess I'll see what this letter says. {Opens and reads.) 
 "Dear Cousin Eliza." Humph! "It is with great regret 
 that I realize how long it is since I have written to you." Not 
 sence she wanted to spend the summer with me before. " How 
 we do neglect even those whom we love the best, but now we 
 are going to make amends. I know how lonely you must be 
 on the farm ; we have decided this year that John, myself and 
 our six lovely cherubs" — imps, 1 call 'em — "will spend our 
 entire summer witli you. Blood is thicker than water and we 
 all love to see our dear cousins. We shall have eight trunks 
 and shall need seven sleeping rooms as I like to have each of 
 the children have a separate room. If you have not already a 
 bath-tub, you will prol)ably want to get one before we arrive. I 
 hope you have plenty of cows and hens so we may have an 
 abundance of milk and eggs and also a couple of horses that 
 we may enjoy the beautiful drives. I know how delighted you 
 will be to have us and how eagerly you will await our arrival. 
 Ever your own loving cousin." 
 
 Mrs. J. I've gut some more of thet butter, Lizy. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. And I've got some more of the other stuff. 
 Guess I kin arrange it so their stay' 11 be brief. Even a worm 
 will turn at last. I want some spool cotton, Jerushy, guess 
 I'll hev one black and one white, 'bout number forty, and I 
 want somethin' to make Phineas some shirts. I tell him he's 
 awful hard on socks and shirts. His shirts are alius comin* 
 holes in the elbows and I've knit him five pair of socks this 
 winter and he got his toes through ev'ry one of 'em. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE II 
 
 (Mrs. J. takes down cloth. Mrs. Slo. examines.^ 
 Enter Johnnie Dolliver, with very dirty face. 
 
 Mrs. J. Well, Johnnie, what'd yer ma send you fer ? My 
 sakes alive ! What a dirty face you've got I Why don't you 
 wash it ? 
 
 Johnnie. You bet yer life I don't wash my face no more. 
 Looked at the water through pa's microscope last night and the 
 water was full of little crawly bugs. Bet I'm not goin' to hev 
 them things crawlin' all over my face with their funny little 
 legs. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. An agent's bin 'round leavin' cakes of soap fur 
 samples. Saw him leave one at your house, Johnnie. 
 
 John. Gee, I- guess I'd better not go home for awhile. 
 Ma'll want to be tryin' it on me. 
 
 Mrs: J. What did you say your mother wanted, Johnnie? 
 
 John. She wants two pounds of sugar, a pound of soda and 
 a pound of raisins. (Mrs. J. gets them ; John, stands looking 
 in showcase.') I'll have a stick of that striped candy and a 
 piece of gum. Ma says you'll have to charge 'em 'til some of 
 these folks, that have been sick pay dad their bills. 
 
 Mrs. J. All right, Johnnie. Don't forget to try that sample 
 of soap. 
 
 {Takes down account book and writes the charge.) 
 
 John, {to Col., who has got up and is sta?iding before 
 stovcy very bow-legged). Hi, Colonel, you'd better get away 
 from that stove. You're warping. 
 
 (John, dodges out. Col. starts to folloiv but comes back.) 
 
 CoL. Young 'uns nowadays has no respect fer their betters. 
 S'pose he's making fun of my bow-legs. They did good 
 service for my country, if they be a little crooked. 
 
 Enter Mr. J. 
 
 Mr. J. How-do, Lizy? How-do, folks? {Goes over to 
 stove and sits down.) Well, Deacon, bin tradin' hosses to- 
 day? 
 
 Dea. Yes, did do a leetle tradin'. Know that air insurance 
 chap that's bin hanging 'round here fer some time ? . Wall, he 
 decided he could do more bizness if he hed a hoss, could kiver 
 more territory; he sed. Ruther guess he will, when thet hoss 
 
12 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 gives one of his kicks ! reckon he'll kiver consid'able more ter- 
 ritory — ha — ha — ha. 
 
 Mr. J. You don't mean to say he bought that ring-boned, 
 balky old kicker of yours you've bin tryin' to sell fer five year. 
 
 Dea. Well, I'll tell you how it was. I showed him all the 
 bosses and told him I'd sell him any except that one, but I 
 didn't want to sell him at enny price, but sich is the contrari- 
 ness of human natur that after I'd sed that nothin'ud do, but 
 he must hev that one, so as I alius try to be obleegin' when I 
 kin, I finally let him have it. 
 
 Mr. J. Bound to please him, hey. Deacon ? 
 
 Col. That was a purty good joke on that there other city 
 chap that bought your old balky roan, hey, Deacon ? 
 
 Dea. {clmckling). Ever hear 'bout that, Bill? 
 
 Mr. J. No, don't believe I hev. Deacon. 
 
 Dea. This air city chap wanted to buy a hoss and liked the 
 looks of thet balky roan so well I thought to be sure he'd buy 
 it, but when he wanted me to hitch up and try the' critter I 
 thought the trade was off, 'cause you know that old roan would 
 stop ev'ry other thing. Finally he sez, sez he, ** What ails 
 your hoss ? Is he sick ? " *' Oh, no," sez I, ''he's so 'fraid 
 he wunt do as he's told that he stops ev'ry little while to hear 
 if I've said Whoa." The blamed idjut didn't know a balky 
 horse when he see one and was so pleased ''with sich intelli- 
 geace in a dumb animal," as he called it, thet he bought him 
 right off. {^Laughter.') 
 
 Enter Betsey Winslow ; bows to men. 
 
 Betsey. Good-evenin', Mis' Jones — good-evenin', Mis' 
 Slocum. Any mail fer me to-night. Mis' Jones ? 
 Mrs. J. Yes, I think I did see a letter for you. 
 
 {Gives her letter.) 
 
 Bet. {opens letter). Huh, it's frum a dry goods firm in 
 Bosting. Printed. They needn't print their letters to me, guess 
 I kin read writin' if I do live in the country. City folks seems 
 to think we don't know nothin'. I've been sewin' fer Mis' 
 Gibson all day. She's bin heving a new dress made fer 
 the weddin' and I want to git a few hooks and eyes and a little 
 lace to finish it. (Mrs. J. shows hooks, eyes and lace. Bet. 
 holds lace in hand 7uhile talking.) Coopid is pretty busy 
 'round these parts lately. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 13 
 
 Mr. J. Better look out, Betsey, he'll be hitting you. 
 
 Bet. Yes, I'm getting kinder scairt, myself. You knew 
 Sally Hoskins and Bije Todd were united in the holy bonds of 
 wedlock last night, didn't you ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, I heerd so. What did Sally wear ? 
 
 Bet. Her weddin' dress was that old green serge of her 
 mother's and she and her mother made it over themselves, and 
 it kinder wrinkled some between the shoulders, seeing as how 
 her mother weighs a hundred pounds more'n Sally, and they 
 thought it wouldn't pay to rip it apart, and the skirt was kinder 
 short 'cause her mother is about four inches shorter'n Sally, 
 and they didn't hev no new cloth to piece it down. She wore 
 a long, green veil, caught up with a bunch of dandelions, and 
 carried a shower bouquet of them. Sally says she read thet 
 was the style now, and young folks will have style nowadays, 
 no matter what it costs. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. How'd Bije look ? Pretty spruce ? 
 
 Bet. He had on a pair of black and white check pants, 
 good big checks that a body could see. They were kinder 
 short, too, and he'd bought a second hand black coat over to 
 the city. The sleeves of that were pretty short, too, and it 
 wuz so tight I was 'fraid 'twould bust if he laffed hard, but 
 'twas a rale good coat, not worn much of any, and he wore a 
 green necktie to match Sally's veil. Yes, they both looked 
 rale sweet. 
 
 Mrs. J. S'pose they hed refreshments. 
 
 Bet. Yes, the parson sed he'd marry 'em fer fifty cents ef 
 he could stay to the weddin' supper, so they jist spread them- 
 selves on the supper. Had doughnuts and cheese, apple, 
 mince and squash pie and gingerbread. After the supper they 
 played Copenhagen and Drop the Handkerchief, then the boys 
 give them a bellin' and they slied away and started on their 
 weddin' tour. Went over to Bije's sister to spend the night. 
 Thet's nearly five miles and Bije sed he didn't know as it.'ud 
 pay bein' as how they'd hev to get up pretty early to git back 
 in time fur work but Sally sed it wouldn't seem like gifting 
 married at all 'less they went away on their honeymoon. Yes, 
 it wuz a brillyunt affair and I hope they'll hev a pleasant 
 voyage on the sea of matrimony with roses thickly strowed 
 along their path and may the yoke set lightly on their necks as 
 they travel the long broad highway of life together. How 
 much is this lace a yard, Mrs. Jones? 
 
 Mrs. J. That one is ten cents a yard and this one is eight. 
 
14 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Bet. This one is rale purty and I guess I'll have half a 
 yard if 'tis ten cents. Mis' Gibson wants somethin' pretty 
 rich and dressy «to finish the neck and she don't mind if it is 
 ruther expensive. And I'll take a dozen of them hooks and 
 eyes and a spool of white cotting, number fifty. (Mrs. J. 
 does them up. Bet. after much trouble gets pocketbock out of 
 pocket in petticoat.') What'U that come to, Mis' Jones? 
 
 Mrs. J. Just twenty cents. 
 
 Bet. Here's a quarter. Kin you change that ? I ain't got 
 nothin' smaller. 
 
 Mrs, J. I think I've got five cents. Yes, here's one. 
 
 Enter Elyz. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. How-do, Lizzie ? S'pose ye're delighted to be 
 back hum agin. 
 
 Elyz. (aside). When will these dreadful people ever learn 
 to designate me by my proper appellation ? 
 
 (Mrs. Slo. and Bet. both shake hands with Elyz. Elyz. 
 shakes ha fids languidly with arm held high in the air.) 
 
 Mrs. Slo. Land sakes, Liz, what's happened to yer arm ? 
 Can't you git it down no lower'n that? I'd rub it with 
 Snider's Liniment. It's rale good fer stiffness. Phineas uses 
 it on his bosses and it helps 'em amazingly. 
 
 (Elyz. tosses head disdainfully but says nothing.) 
 
 Bet. I s'pose you found it ruther warm in the city, Lizzie. 
 
 Elyz. (affectedly). Yes, the heat was exceedingly debihtat- 
 ing and the humidity was so excessive that some days I felt 
 nervously prostrated. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. You oughter take a leetle sulphur and molasses 
 when you feel like that and it will brace you up in no time. 
 
 (Elyz. sits down and reads book.) 
 
 Bet. S'pose you're fond of reading them air new novels, 
 Lizzie. 
 
 Elyz. No, I find the new novels sadly lacking in an intel- 
 ligent grasp of life and character, without a psychological in- 
 sight into the temperamental distinctions of sex, wanting all 
 familiarity with the euphonious juxtapositions of words and 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE I5 
 
 therefore foolish and futile as an exposition of human prob- 
 abilities. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. (Jwlding up hands'). Dew tell. I alius thought 
 'em bad but I didn't know they was so bad as all thet. I'll 
 never read one of the pesky things. It's enough to bring one's 
 soul down to perdition. 
 
 Enter Mr. Dusenberry. 
 
 Mr. Dusenberry. Any mail for me to-night, Mr. Jones? 
 (Mr. J. goes to look, hands out letter and paper. Mr. D. 
 then goes over to women and shakes hands with all.) Well, 
 Lizzie, you're back with us once more. Presume you came 
 off with flying colors on that essay of yours. What was your 
 subject ? 
 
 Elyz. '* The Essentials of the Essentially Essential." 
 
 Mr. D. {smiling). It must have been deeply interesting. 
 Hear you brought home a new dog for a pet. 
 
 Jam. {comes over). Mr. Dusenberry, ye jest ought to see 
 Liz's new dorg, new kind. He's a Spitz. 
 
 Elyz. James Henry, did I not tell you that only vulgar 
 people called them Spitz dogs. Mr. Dusenberry, he is an ex- 
 pectorating dog. 
 
 Mr. D. {turning aside to smile). Indeed, I shall surely 
 want to see this wonderful dog. 
 
 Mrs. J. S'pose you went to Mis' Briggs' tea-party as she 
 called it. She's interducing a good many of her city idees 
 here: I couldn't go sence I couldn't leave the store. 
 
 Mr. D. Yes, it was quite a grand affair. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. They do say as how she sarved sassafras tea 
 and pigs' feet and wore a new gown and vanilla bean earrings 
 and persided like a queen. You know she's sent out cards 
 saying she will receive her friends Mondays. I s'pose thet's to 
 let folks know she don't do her own washin' no longer. S'pose 
 she has thet heathen Chinee that's cum into town do it. I'd 
 like to see myself wear any thin' after he'd washed it. 
 
 Bet. Nor I, either. Well, I must be a-goin'. Folks thet 
 hev to sew fer their daily bread can't dissipate much. Good- 
 night, everybody. \_Exit Bet. 
 
 Mr. D. {to Elyz. who is still reading). Are you fond of 
 literature, Elyzabythe? 
 
 Elyz. Yes, passionately fond of the high class. Nothing 
 shallow appeals to my^ nature. 
 
l6 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mr. D. You admire Scott's *<Lady of the Lake," I pre- 
 sume. 
 
 Elyz. It is perfectly lovely. 
 
 Mr. D. And Scott's " Marmion " ? 
 
 Elyz. It is an intellectual feast. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. How do ye like Scott's Emulsion, Lizzie? 
 
 Elyz, I think it's the best thing he ever wrote. 
 
 Jam. {takes down bottle from shelf). Well, Liz, here's a 
 bottle of Scott's Emulsion of Cod Liver Oil. Jest try it and 
 see if 'tis the best \\\\x\gyou ever took. 
 
 {All laugh. Elvz. confusedly reads a Diinute, then goes out. 
 Enter Sus. and sits dozen on settee after speaking to folks. 
 Ja]\l sits beside her, trying to make love in shy aivkward 
 fashion, puts arm around her, Sus. pulls aiuay, pretends 
 to slap him, etc. Mr. D. goes over to stove where men 
 are reading papers. Mrs. J. a7id Mrs. Slo. seated, ap- 
 parently talking.) 
 
 Mr. D. Well, gentlemen, what's the news ? You all seem 
 much interested. 
 
 Col. I've jest been a readin' 'bout the doings in Washing- 
 ton. Mighty smart president we've got. Here's a special 
 message he's jest sent to Congress. Ain't read it yet but ex- 
 pect it's a powerful fine one. 
 
 Mr. D. Read it aloud to us, Colonel. I'm sure we'll all 
 enjoy it. 
 
 Col. {reiding). "During the past year 22,326 new ap- 
 plications for army and navy pensions have been received and 
 it has been discovered that kerosene will answer for a piano 
 polish if rubbed on with a red flannel rag. It also cleanses 
 and preserves from the ravages of insects. During the year 
 3,264,657 acres of public lands have been given over to settlers 
 and you will save money by f)atronizing Robinson's clothing 
 store. Great bargains in shop worn goods. Come to the blue 
 front store. Lhere are 17,452 survivors of the Mexican ^Vnr, 
 all of whom are on the pension roll and Brown & Houston 
 have just received another lot of those wrappers at seventy 
 nine cents each. They are the equal of any ninety-eight cent 
 wrapper bought elsewhere." 
 
 Jos. That message sounds jest about as sensible as you'd 
 expect frum a Republican. 
 
 Dea. Well, I confess it does sound, ruther queer fer a 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE ly 
 
 special message to Congress, but I'd bank on that there presi- 
 dent anyway. Guess he knows what he's about. Prob'bly 
 wants ter make it practical fer the common people. 
 
 Mr. D. Guess the editor and the advertising manager 
 must have had a little mix-up. Did you know we are going to 
 lose Brother Hopkins of the Baptist Church ? He read his 
 resignation last Sunday morning and his people are feehng 
 rather sore about it, but I don't know as I blame him any. 
 He's been there laboring with them for fifteen years at three 
 hundred dollars a year, paid quarterly, or supposed to be, and 
 last quarter Deacon Harlow, acting as an ofhcer of the church, 
 paid him his salary with a promissory note at six months, and 
 then as a private individual offered to discount it for him at 
 ten per cent, if he'd take part of it in potatoes and pumpkins, 
 half rotten ones at that. Brother Hopkins had a heart-to-heart 
 talk with me and he said he had meekly stood their donation 
 parlies for fifteen years, but his spirit rose in rebellion at that 
 and he thought the Lord called him elsewhere. 
 
 Mr. J. Don't blame him a bit. I remember Sister Potter 
 took him eight clothespins fer his last donation and said she 
 would take ten cents off the amount she usually paid toward 
 his salary. 
 
 Col. Deacon Smith gave four phosphorescent herring and 
 ain't never give a cent sence. 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, and Mis' Solomon hed some sausage meat 
 she'd sweetened an' some mincemeat she'd peppered by mis- 
 take and she took that over. Said she hated to give it to the 
 pigs and her folks wouldn't eat it. 
 
 Jos. Believe thet was the time Jane Hastings gave the min- 
 ister a box of hairpins. I'm glad he had sense enough to git 
 up and git. 
 
 Mr. D.' Don't know as his folks would care so much if it 
 wasn't for his farewell sermon, but I'm afraid they'll never 
 forgive him that. 
 
 Mrs. Slo. I ain't heard a word about it. Guess they've 
 been keepin' pretty mum. 
 
 ]\Ir. D. Well, it read something like this : " Brothers and 
 sisters, I am going to say good-bye to you. I have labored 
 amOng you nigh onto fifteen years, and I think it would take 
 more years than are left to me here on earth to prepare you for 
 a heavenly home hereafter, so I advise you to get a younger 
 man to take up the heavy task, I don't think you love me 
 because you don't pay my salary; your donations are moldy 
 
1 8 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 fruit and wormy apples, and by their fruits ye shall know 
 them. I am going to a better place. I have been called to 
 be chaplain of a penitentiary. I go to prepare a place for you. 
 Good-bye. ' ' {Laughter. ) 
 
 Col. Well, thet was kinder rubbin' it in, wa'n't it ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Sarves 'em jist right. That sassiciy alius was 
 drefful mean with their pastor. 
 
 Mr. D. I must be going home to get that sermon ready for 
 you to listen to next Sunday. Oh, Mrs. Jones, my wife told 
 me to bring home half a pound of tea. {Gets tea, pays.') 
 
 Enter Reuben Ricks. 
 
 Dea. Hello, Reuben, how's that dog of yours to-night? 
 
 Reuben {stuttering). H-h-he's a-a-all r-r-right. T-th-that 
 d-do-dog g-g-gu-gut the k-ke-keen-keenest sc-sc-scent of any 
 d-do-dog I ever s-s-saw. 
 
 Dea. How do you know he has, Reuben ? 
 
 Reu. Why, y-yes-y-yesterday he t-t-tracked mu-mu-me 
 after I had g-g-gone s-s-seven m-mi-miles f-f-from the 
 h-h-house. W-w-what you t-t-think of t-th-that ? 
 
 Jos. I should think you needed a bath, Reuben. 
 
 Reu. N-n-no, I d-d-don' t. T-t-took one la-la-last su-s- 
 summer. {Laughter.) 
 
 Mr. D. Good-night, everybody. Hope to see you all at 
 church Sunday morning. 
 
 Chorus. Good-night, parson. Good-night, Mr. Dusen- 
 berry. 
 
 Reu. A-a-any le-1-letter f-f-for m-m-me to-night, M-M-Mis' 
 J-J-Jones ? 
 
 Mrs. J. No, Reuben, nothin' to-night. Was you expecting 
 anything pertickeler ? 
 
 Reu. Y-y-yes. Y-y-you k-k-know the v-v-va-valves of my 
 c-c-cornet s-st-stuck so I w-w- wrote to t-t-the o-o-ones 1 
 b-bought it of a-a-and t-t-they s-said to use s-s-sa-saliva, so I 
 w-w-vvrote and t-t-told t-t-them to s-s-send t-t-ten c-c-cents 
 worth of s-s-saliva and I a-a-ain't g-g-got it y-}'-yet, 
 
 Mr. J. Perhaps it'll come to-morrow, Reuben. 
 
 Reu. H-h-hope it w-w-will s-so I c-c-can b-b-blow m-m-my 
 c-c-cornet. 
 
 (Reu. goes over to settee, sits on other side of Sus. Jam. 
 glares at him, gradually pushes Sus. along until Reu. 
 falls off.) 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE I9 
 
 Sus. Don't you know no better'n that, Jim Henry Jones. 
 Guess you'd better go and larn some manners. 
 
 Jam. My nose seems to be out of jint. Two's company 
 and three's a crowd, and I seem to be the crowd. Susan 
 Smith, you are a heartless flirt. {Aside.^ I'll write her a 
 letler and let her know she can't trifle with my affections. 
 
 (^Goes to other side and writes busily.) 
 
 Reu. {sits close to Sus.). Y-y-you are g-g-going t-t-to 
 b-be m-ni-married. 
 
 Sus. Land sakes alive, me married. Who is it I'm agoin' 
 to marry ? 
 
 Reu. M-m-me. I c-c-came o-o-over on p-p-pup-purpose 
 to-night to t-t-tell y-y-you. 
 
 Sus. Do you s'pose I'd marry any one that drinks like 
 you do ? 
 
 Reu. I r-r-resolved la-last y-y-year t-t-that I w-w-wouldn't 
 d-d-drink anything s-st-stronger than b-b-b-bub-buttermilk 
 b-but my st-st-st-stuttering is a g-g-great b-b-bother to 
 m-mu-me. W-w-when I w-w-want a g-gl-glass of b-b-bub-but- 
 termilk they always t-t-think I w-w-want bu-bu-beer, and 
 be-before I c-c-can s-say bub-bub-buttermilk they g-g-give 
 m-m-me b-b-beer, and r-r-rather t-t-than h-have a f-f-fuss I 
 d-d-drink the b-b-beer, b-but if y-y- you'll m-m-marry m-m-me 
 I'll t-t-try to s-s-say b-bu-buttermilk q-q-quick. 
 
 (Jam. hands Sus. tlie letter. She opens and reads aloud.) 
 
 Sus. '' Susan Smith, you hev throwed me down fer thet 
 stutterin' clown of a Reuben Ricks, but some day you will be 
 sorry and beg on your knees fer me to take you back but I will 
 cast you scornfully aside and tell you you are ded to me for- 
 ever. There are plenty of other gurls who are dyin' to hev me 
 but I shall leave this place now to seek my fortune but shall 
 sune return and bring with me a charmin' bride decked in 
 dimonds and satings, then sadly you will say It might hev bin 
 me. Fairwell, forever, false-harted one. I will return your 
 tintipe and your lock of hare. J. H." Lot I care. Let's go 
 ter walk, Reuben. 
 
 (^Takes hold of Reu.'s arin, and they go outdoors, Sus. 
 tossing her head at Jam. as they pass.) 
 
20 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mrs. Slo. Deacon, it's time we wuz startin' hum. Got 
 your galluses yet ? 
 
 Dea. I vum, I nearly forgot 'em. [Gets up and goes to 
 counter.') What've you gut fer galluses, Bill? 
 
 Mr. J. I've got a new kind here, Deacon, jest got 'em 
 totlier day, a patent 'rangement so's you kin pull 'em up good 
 and tight. 
 
 Dea. Them look purty good. Guess I'll try 'em on. 
 {l\ikes off coat, puts on suspenders. Mr. J. gives them a 
 yank and pulls them up very high.) Thar, thar, Bill, don't 
 choke me to death. Better let 'em down a leetle. (Mr. J. tries 
 but unsuccessfully and finally has to cut them.) That patent 
 sartainly holds 'em up well but I reckon I'd belter stick to the 
 old kind a spell longer. I'll take this pair. How much be 
 they ? 
 
 Mr. J. Twenty-five cents. 
 
 (Dea. pays.) 
 
 Mrs. Slo. Hev you had the molasses jug filled and got the 
 pound of sody I told you about, Deacon ? 
 
 Dea. Yes, got 'em out in the wagon. Come along, old 
 woman. Let's be making tracks. Il's past my bedtime. 
 
 (Widow Gray rushes in, milkpail on arm, man's straiv hat 
 on head ivith crcivn out and hair sticking through, calico 
 dress, badly torn. Carries key with huge board at- 
 tached, talks quickly and excitedly while rtnming from one 
 side of store to other. ) 
 
 Widow Gray. Oh, will some one come quick, my cow's 
 fell down, and she can't get up and I'm afraid she'll die and 
 she can't get up and I can't get her up and I don't know what 
 to do 'cause she can't get up and I can't get her up. Deacon, 
 come quick and help me and everybody else come. Oh, dear, 
 dear. 
 
 {^Rushes out, followed by Dea. and wife.) 
 
 Mr. J. Jim Henry, you go along and help, too. Thel's 
 what comes of a woman tryin' to run a farm alone. Slie's 
 alius rushin' in here to git some one to help her git some of her 
 pesky animals out of trouble. See she's got a hull plank walk 
 on her door-key now. She's alius losin' that and gettin' some 
 one to hunt round fer it. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 21 
 
 Enter Jennie Brown. 
 
 Jennie. Ma wants ter know if you hev any juicy lemons, 
 coz if you hev she's goin' to buy two of 'em to-morrow. 
 
 Mr. J. You tell yer ma I've gut some fine uns and they're 
 juicy as my old pipe. 
 
 Jen. Yes, sir. Is there any mail fer ma ? 
 
 Mr. J. {looks). No, no mail fer any of your family. 
 
 Jen. Is there any mail fer paw ? 
 
 Mr. J. No, I said there was no mail for any of your 
 family. 
 
 Jen. Is there any mail fer my brother John ? 
 
 Mr. J. Didn't I tell you there wasn't anything. Nothin' 
 fer any of the Browns, long or short, fat or thin, old or young, 
 not a thing fer any of them. 
 
 Jen. Is there any mail fer my sister Mary? 
 
 Mr. J. No, for none of 'ern, straight or cross-eyed, knock- 
 kneed or bow-legged or club-footed, so don't ask any more 
 questions. 
 
 Jen. Please is there any mail for my grandmother? 
 
 Mr. J. No, nor for your great-grandmother or your great- 
 grandfather or your great-great-grandmother or your great- 
 great-grandfather or your uncles or your aunts. 
 
 Jen. Is there any mail for my Cousin Susie? 
 
 Mr. J. Nothing for your first, second, third, fourth or 
 forty-fourth cousin. Now are you satisfied ? 
 
 Jen. Please, when will there be some mail for 'em ? 
 
 Mr. J. You'd better run home quick, little girl. 
 
 Jen. Yes, sir. \_Exit Jen. 
 
 Enter Lee Sing followed by Bobbie Robinson and John. 
 pulling his braid, calling '^ Chinamanee eafee rattee, etc^ 
 Lee starts to chase, when they rush out, but return soon 
 and sly in behind stove out of sight. 
 
 Lee Sing. Me killee bloys if catchee. Me wantee chickee 
 allee livee. 
 
 Jam. enters. 
 
 Mr. J. Did the widdy git her cow up, Jim Henry? 
 
 Jam. Yes, wan't a thing the matter with it. 'Twus up be- 
 fore we got there. 
 
 Mr. J. You go git a couple of chickens out of the hen 
 house and bring in here, Jim Henry. How's business, Lee ? 
 
22 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Not very riishin' I reckon. Most folks round here do their 
 own washing and we're not much fer wearin' biled shirts. 
 
 Lee. Bizness velly poor but I do cheep. I wash ladees 
 twoee dollees a dozen, I wash gentlemenee onee and halfee 
 dollees dozen. Velly cheep. 
 
 Jam. {bi'iiigs i?i two young roosters and places on counter'). 
 Here you air. 
 
 Mr. J. Will they lay there, Jim Henry ? 
 
 Jam. {giggling'). Reckon not. They're roosters. 
 
 Mr. J. Feeling kinder smart to-night, ain't ye .? 
 
 Col. Say, Lee, can't you speak a piece fer us ? 
 
 Jos. Go ahead, Lee, speak a piece and I'll let you do up 
 my biled shirt some time. 
 
 Lee. Me speakee piecee allee samee Melican manee. 
 {Speaks ^^ Maud Afuller'' — Chinese version. Applause. 
 Picks up chickens.) Me goee homee, choppee headees 
 offee. 
 
 Mrs. J. Don't you hate to cut those poor chickens' heads 
 off, Lee? 
 
 Lee. Oh, noee, me noee doee thatee. Me choppee chickee 
 offee headee, thatee allee. \_Exit Lee. 
 
 (Boys emerge from behind stove.) 
 
 Mr. J. Lucky you kept out of sight till Chinaman got out. 
 John. Huh, we ain't afraid of him. 
 
 E7iter Silas Hardhack. 
 
 Silas. Evenin', gentlemen. What's the news? 
 
 Col. I've jest been readin' that a medical man says yaller 
 fever comes frum the bite of a femail muskeeto. 
 
 Jos. Don't doubt it a bit, not a bit. Did you ever hear 
 of enny trouble that there wasn't a female at the bottom of? 
 Ever since the days of Eve, females have been upsetlin' things 
 and I'll bet dollars to donuts thet this rheumatiz of mine cums 
 from some pesky female fly and if you hunt round you'd 
 prob'bly find every ill thet flesh is heir to can be traced to 
 plaguey females. Wish we could ketch all the females and 
 shet 'em up and keep 'em shet up. The only way is fer man 
 to rise in his might and show his power over them. 
 
 SiL. {chuckling). Bobbie, where's thet compersition I heerd 
 you read in school this arternoon ? Gut it with you ? Guess 
 you'd better read it so yer pa can hear it. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 23 
 
 Bobbie (Jakes dirty paper out of pocket. Watches father 
 Old of corner of eyes. Reads). Cowards is men thet run 
 away so's to live to fite another day. There are very many 
 kinds of cowards such as married men. My father is married 
 and he is a coward up hoam and a brav man down to Jone's 
 store. When he sits round the stove down there he tells how 
 he makes woman keap her proper plais and when he cums 
 home he says, Why shudent man be head of his house, then 
 ma starts talkin' to him and he takes it all back and says he 
 won't never talk like that enny more. 
 
 Jos. Bobbie, I will take you out in the woodshed for that. 
 You know my word is law and your mother does as I say 
 alius. 
 
 Bob. Pa, ma said to tell you if you wan't home in ten 
 minutes she'd be down after you. Guess the ten minutes most 
 up. You'd better be rolling your hoop. 
 
 Jos. Bobbie, you go home an' tell your mother I'll cum 
 home when I git good and ready and not a minit before. 
 
 Mrs. Robinson {enters with sleeves rolled ?//, shawl over 
 head). Joe Robinson, ain't you started yet? {\Valks over 
 to husband and takes hint by the ear.) You lazy, loafin' 
 scoundrel. Didn't I tell ye I wanted you to get some water 
 and chop some wood, and here you're a settin' round here 
 tellin' yer big lies. You march along home now and git to 
 work. 
 
 (^Marches him out by ear.) 
 
 SiL. Better put up your umberell, Joe, to keep off the 
 storm. Ain't much danger of breakin' the commandment 
 'bout coveting yer neighbor's wife in Joe's case. Heerd you 
 hed a compersition, too, Johnnie. 
 
 John. Yep, I whacked Bob over the head with my slate 
 in school and he let out a yell and the teacher made me write 
 a compersition of fifty words but it didn't take me long. I 
 wrote '^ Bobbie's dog Fido run away and he called Fido, Fido, 
 Fido, Fido." (^Continues until fifty 7vords.) Don't git ahead 
 of this kid. Say, Mr. Jones, ma wants to know what you've 
 got in the shape of cucumbers. 
 
 Mr. J. Tell her we ain't got nothin' in the shape of cu- 
 cumbers except bananas. Them's pretty near the same shape. 
 Heard 'bout Zeke Hines eatin' bananas. Colonel ? 
 
 CoL. No, what fool trick's he been cuttin' up now ? 
 
 Mr. J. His mother wuz in here the day this bunch cum 
 
24 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 and she bought half a dozen and took 'em home to Zeke. I 
 never kept any afore and Zeke hed never seen one so he et 'em, 
 skins and all, at one settin' and was taken with vi'lent pains in 
 his stomick so's they hed to call Dr. Dolliver and he said fust 
 he guessed he'd have to cut out Zeke's appendix and Zeke 
 began to holler but his mother told him how Zeke had et 
 bananers with the skins on, so he give him a big dose of castor 
 oil and brought him out of it all right. 
 
 John. Ma wants a dozen of eggs, but she says she finds two 
 bad ones in ev'ry dozen you send her. 
 
 Mr. J. Tell her to only git half a dozen to onct, then she'll 
 only git one bad one. 
 
 Bob. I want a package of breakfast food. 
 
 SiL. I'd like to know when you hear so much of a hoss 
 feeling his oats why you never hear of a pusson feelin' his 
 breakfast food. 
 
 Col. Give it up, Silas. 
 
 Bob. Do you keep matches, Mr. Jones ? 
 
 Mr. J. Oh, yes, all kind of matches. 
 
 Bob. {walking toward door). Well, I'll take a trotting 
 match. 
 
 {Dodges out, followed by John. ) 
 
 Mr. J. I'll give him a trottin' match with my right trotter 
 if I ketch him. 
 
 Etiter Mary Jane Stedman. 
 
 Mrs. J. How'd ye do, Mis' Stedman. 
 
 Mrs. Stedman. Hey? 
 
 Mrs. J. How'd ye do ? 
 
 Mrs. Sted. No, nothin' new. Same old bunnit and shawl 
 I've wore fer ten year. 
 
 Mrs. J. What will you have ? 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Salve ? No, I've got part of that last box left 
 yet. I brought over some butter and thought I'd change it fer 
 some caliker. Here's five pound of butter and it's very good 
 if I do say it as shouldn't. How much be ye payin' fer butter? 
 
 Mrs, J. Fifteen cents a pound. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. ( putting hand back of ear). Hey ? 
 
 Mrs. J. {yells in ear). Fifteen cents. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Purty low. Well, let me look at some caliker. 
 (Mrs. J. takes down several pieces.) This air piece is kinder 
 purty. S'pose it'll wash well. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 2$ 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, the colors are fast. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. It wunt last — I don't want it then. Don't 
 want to go to the work of makin' it and not hev it last. 
 
 Mrs. J. (/// ear). I said the colors are fast and it will wash 
 well. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Oh, did ye ? I wonder how much I need fer 
 a wrapper. 
 
 Mrs. J. About ten yards. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. {Jiand back of ear). Hey ? 
 
 Mrs. J. {i^ery loud). About — ten — yards. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Well, I'll take it. 
 
 (Mrs. J. measures cloth. Mrs. Sted. gets butter out of 
 box. Mrs. J. weighs it.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Looks like snow. 
 
 Mrs. .Sted. Yes, Sally's got a beau. Comes to see her 
 regeler. Likely young feller, he is, too. 
 
 Mrs. J. There's only four pounds of butter. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Yes, thank ye, my cold is better. 
 
 Mrs. J. (/// ear). 1 said there was only four pounds of 
 butter. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. I weighed it by that five pounds of sugar I 
 bought here last week, anyway. 
 
 Mrs. J. There'll be enough to pay for your caliker and ten 
 cents more. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. No, I ain't goin' to no other store. I want 
 something to darn John's socks with. The way that man 
 wears out his socks is somethin' dredful. 
 
 Mrs. J. That makes it just right. 
 
 Mrs. Sted. Yes, good-night. \_Exit Mrs. Sted. 
 
 Enter Cyrus Depew and wife, Samanthy. Cyrus goes over 
 to stove with men, speaks and sits doivn, apparently talk- 
 ing. Samanthy goes to other side. • ^ 
 
 Samanthy. How-do, Mis' Jones. Nice evenin'. I'd like 
 to see some spool silk if you've gut any. I'm a-tryin' to make 
 over thet old black silk dress I hed when I wuz married. Gut 
 any black ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, we've got a few spools but it's so turrible 
 high now we didn't get many. Fifteen cents a spool. 
 
 Sam. Dew tell neow. I never heern tell of sich a thing. I 
 never paid more'n ten. What on airth makes it so high? 
 
 Mrs. J. I understand the silk worms air all dead. 
 
26 THE VILLAGE t>OST-OFFICE 
 
 Sam. Well, I s'pose I'll hev to git it seeiii' as I've gut the 
 dress all ripped up but I do hate to pay sich prices. Don't 
 know whatever we're a-comin' to. I want a piece of black tape. 
 How much is that ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Thet's ten cents a piece. 
 
 Sam. Land sakes, I never used to pay but five fer thet. 
 
 Mrs. J. Thet's riz too. I hear the tapeworms are all dead 
 so I s'pose 'tis hard to git tape, too. 
 
 Sam. a hull lots of our chickens hev been caught by 
 hawks. Guess the price of eggs oughter go up, Cyrus, did 
 you bring in that air box of eggs ? 
 
 Cyrus. No, mother, I'll go and bring 'em in now. 
 
 (Cy. brings i?i box of eggs. Mrs. J. and Sam. make great 
 zvork of counting and reckoning. ) 
 
 SiL. I'har's a lot of helpful advice in this 'ere paper, but 
 they do seem to git a leetle mixed sometimes. Here's some 
 one asked how to assist twins through the teethin' per'od and 
 the editor ses, **If you are unfortunit enough to be plagued 
 with these little pests the quickest way of settlin' 'em is to cover 
 them with straw and set the straw on fire," and another one 
 asked how to get red of grasshoppers and he tells 'em the best 
 method of treatment is to give them each a warm bath twict a 
 day and rub their gums with paregoric. 
 
 Col. Guess 'twould keep a nian purty busy ketchin' 'em if 
 they's as thick as they be in my front field sometimes. 
 
 Cy. Wonderful things they dew in the medicul lines nowa- 
 days. I wuz readin' las' night 'bout a remarkable case. 
 
 SiL. That so, what wuz it ? 
 
 Cy. Wall, it seemed a man hed lost his nose, and seein' as 
 how he had ten fingers and no nose, he thought p'r'aps he cud 
 have the tip of his little finger grafted on fer a nose. Told the 
 dockter about his idee and he said it cud be done slick as a 
 whistle. It worked fine and now thet man has a nose as good 
 as ennybody. Only trouble wuz in the rush that air dockter 
 furgut to yank out the fingernail and it kinder bothers the man 
 'bout cuttin' it. Science is striding forrard. wonderful. Been 
 fishin' lately, Colonel ? 
 
 Col. Yes, went over to the stream tother day. 
 
 Cy. What luck did ye hev ? 
 
 Col. Purty fair. Cahght 'bout twenty-five pick'rel, biggest 
 one 'bout two feet long and hed a big fish hook in his stumick. 
 
 SiL. Say, Colonel, did I ever tell you 'bout the pick'rel I 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 27 
 
 caught onct ? He was a whopper. Wuz over a yard long and 
 hed an anchor in his stumick. 
 
 Cy. Ever hear tell of George Washington, Silas? How'd 
 yer corn turn out this year, Colonel ? Most ev'rybudy hed 
 purty poor luck. 
 
 Coi . Purty poor, purty poor. 'Tain't much use to try to 
 raise corn with them pesky crows.' I put up scarecrows all 
 over thet air field and my boy Pete and me tuk turns 
 a-watchin' thet piece all day. Pete 'ud start out 'fore daylight 
 with his shotgun and stay thar till noon, then I'd go and stay 
 till after dark. Thought we'd git ahead of them air crows for 
 onct and they did keep away all day but ev'ry mornin' we'd 
 find corn dug up. 
 
 Cy. How'd you account fer that ? 
 
 Col. Couldn't account fer it at all till me and Pete watched 
 one night and I swum, if them air confounded crows didn't 
 ketch fireflies and hop over thet corn-field with them fireflies in 
 their mouths fer lanterns so's to see where the corn wuz. 
 When they'd find a hill, they'd drop the firefly and dig up the 
 corn, then pick up their lantern and find another hill. Beats 
 all, theni crows. 
 
 SiL. Them air fellers in Washington sent me some seed but 
 it was so tarnation dry thet the stalks all dried up an' I thought 
 there wa' n't goin' to be no corn so I turned my old hogs in 
 thar to root. Bin in thar a leetle while an' I thought I'd walk 
 over to see they hadn't gut out and I swanee if they hedn't 
 rooted up big ears of corn from the foot of them air dried 
 stalks. Well, I jist heaved to and went to work diggin' jest 
 like I would a field of pertaters and gut the best crop of corn I 
 ever hed. Must hev bin new kind of seed. 
 
 Cy. Corn ain't what it used to be 'round here. I remember 
 when corn used to grow thirty or forty feet high, hed ears two 
 feet long and three or four of 'em made a bushel. Hed to cut 
 the stalks with a cross-cut saw. Yes-sir-ee. I mind the time 
 five year ago I hed a purty good garden of cabbages an' I 
 spent a lot of time workin' over 'em. One day I lost my watch 
 thar and Samanthy an' me hunted that air piece over time and 
 agin but we couldn't find hide ner hair of it. I felt powerful 
 bad 'bout it 'cause it was a drefful ackret time piece. Well, it 
 went along 'til 'most Chris'mus an' one day we wuz goin' to 
 hev a biled dinner so Samanthy went down cellar and brought 
 up a big cabbige and started to cut it open when her knife 
 struck somethin' hard so she cut 'round kinder keerful like and 
 
28 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 there wuz thet watch. Tuk it up and looked at it an' I vum if 
 it wa'n't runnin' and right on time, hedn't lost a minit. 
 
 SiL. How on airth could it be runnin' if it hed been lost all 
 thet time ? 
 
 Cv. Well, it was one of these air curly heads of cabbige 
 and the leaves kept a-growin' and a-twislin' 'round thet air 
 watch stem and kept it wound up tight. Couldn't wind it a 
 bit when 1 found it. 
 
 Mr. J. Jerusha, where is Lizzie — soarin' away on the wing 
 of poetick fancy as usual ? 
 
 Mrs. J. No, 1 see her out in the kitchen a minit ago 
 gnawin' on a chicken wing. Guess she's a-comin' now. 
 
 Enter Elyz., tvitli book. 
 
 Mr. J. {eating something and smacking lips). Gut thet 
 chicken all et, Liz ? 
 
 Elyz, Papaw, 1 do wish you would stop smacking your 
 lips when you eat. 
 
 Mr. J. You wouldn't want me 'round smackin' other peo- 
 ple's lips, would ye? 
 
 Sam. You seem to be fond of reading, 'Lizbeth. S'pose 
 you hev read the ''Last Days of Pompay." I alius Hked ter 
 read thet. 
 
 Elyz. No, I haven't read the " Last Days of Pompeii," at 
 least not all of them, but I've read all the '* Arabian Nights." 
 Mamma, was there any letter for me to-night ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Why, yes, I think I did see one. (Elyz. goes to 
 office, finds letter, goes aside a7id reads several times with great 
 Joy, thefi puts in dress when it drops to floor and is found by 
 Jam., who reads it to himself almost splitting his sides over it.) 
 How high is thet air thermom'ter, Lizzie ? Seems kinder chilly 
 here. 
 
 Elyz. The thermometer is about five feet from the floor, 
 but perhaps what you wish to know is the altitude of the mer- 
 cury. That stands at sixty-eight degrees. 
 
 Sam. S'pose you heerd Jim Smith's boy, Sam, has started to 
 larn dent'stry, Jerusha. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, dew tell ; why I seed him here in the store 
 jist a day or two ago. When did he go away to school ? 
 
 Sam. Oh, he's studyin' to hum. One of these air cor'spond- 
 ence schools, they call 'em. Larn it all by writin'. Kinder 
 unconvenient I shud call it. Got Henry Jenkins in the cheer 
 t'other day, guv him the gas, then remembered he hedn't gut as 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 29 
 
 fur as knowin' how to pull out a tooth, so hed to write to tlie 
 school ter find out and it tuk three days to git an ansur. 
 Kep' givin' Hen gas all that time coz he said he was afeared if 
 Hen onct got out he'd never come agin and he wa'n't goin' to 
 take no risks 'bout losing a patient. Said he needed the prac- 
 tiz an' the fifty cents. 
 
 Mrs. J. Kinder take off the profits usin' so much gas. 
 
 (Elyz. Jias been uttering exclamations of annoyance, fidget- 
 ing, etc.) 
 
 Sam. 'Lizbeth seems to be sufferin' with a narvous com- 
 plaint. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, she's only sufferin' with the family grammer. 
 Reckon she'll git over it in time. 
 
 Jam. Oh, gee, jest listen to the guff some one's been writing 
 Liz. 
 
 (Elyz. feels in dress for letter, finds it gone, then frantically 
 tries to get it from Jam. , who holds it high above head. ) 
 
 Elyz. You horrid boy, you give me that letter at once. 
 
 Jam. Think pa and ma ought to hear it fust. {Reads.) 
 *' For some remote time past a secret passion has been firing 
 my bosom internally with loving for you. I have navigated 
 every channel in the magnitude of my extensive jurisdiction to 
 cruelly smother the growing love-knot that is being constructed 
 in my. heart, but the humid lamp of affection trimmed by 
 Cupid's productive hand still nourishes that love-sickened 
 organ. Needless is it to numerically extemporize the great' 
 conflagration that has been generated in my reason and ray 
 heart. My educational capabilities have abandoned me and I 
 can only cling to the hope that a reciprocal passion has been 
 
 engendered in your lovely being. You are the sweetest " 
 
 (Elyz. gets letter.) Guess you'd better tnke it out, Liz. it's so 
 sweet I'm 'fraid the honey'll be drippin' all over me. 
 
 (Elyz. goes out.) 
 
 Mr. J. Did ye ever hear sech rot ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Guess thet explains where 'Lizbeth gits all t]iem 
 big words of hers. 
 
 Enter Annie Goodwin. 
 
 Annie. Ma wants a package of dye and she wants it a fash- 
 ionable color. 
 
30 
 
 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mrs. J. What's she goin' to dye ? Some of her dresses ? 
 
 An. No, Dr. DoUiver says ma has stomach trouble and 
 she ought to diet, and ma says if she's got to dye her stomach 
 she might as well dye it a fashionable color. 
 
 Mrs. J. Thet's so. Here's a package of green dye. I read 
 the other day thet green was goin' to be dreadful fashion' ble 
 this year. Anything else, Annie ? 
 
 An. (^hesitating and embarrassed). Ma said to tell you I 
 need a biscuit and I told her I was ashamed to tell you that. 
 
 Mrs. J. You need a biscuit ! You need a biscuit ! Oh, 
 I guess 1 know what she meant, a package of Uneeda Biscuits. 
 Here they are. 
 
 An. Mother says she'll pay you in butter next time she 
 comes to the store. 
 
 Mrs. J. That'll be all right, Annie. I'll give you a stick 
 of C4ndy if you'll speak a little piece for me. Can't you speak 
 '* Twinkle, twinkle, little star " ? 
 
 An. Oh, 1 don't say it that way now\ Ma says that's old- 
 fashioned. 1 say 
 
 " Scintillate, scintillate, globule orific, 
 Fain would I falhoni thy nature's specific, 
 Loftily poised in elher capacious." 
 
 Mrs. J. Here's two sticks of candy, Annie. Guess you 
 earned 'em with them jaw-breakers, but I'd ruther hear it the 
 old-fashioned way. \_Exit An. 
 
 Cy. You know, we wuz a-talkin' of startin' a lib'ry and I've 
 bin a-talkin' to a few pussons about it and they all agree it's not 
 only a lux'ry but a necess'ty. Think how much better 'twould 
 be these long winter evenin's to be absorbin' nolledge than to 
 be swappin' lies 'round this air stove or staying to hum and 
 goin* to bed 'cause there ain't nothin' else ter do. What do 
 you folks think on it ? 
 
 Col. I think 'twould be a turrible good idee and I'm 
 willin' to help it along all I kin. I'm a leetle short on ready 
 money jest now, bein' as I'm sufferin' frum finanshal stringency, 
 but I'll give a copy of Scribners' Magazine thet one of the 
 summer boarders left at our house twenty year ago. We prize 
 it greatly not only fer its intrinsick value but on account of the 
 associashuns clustered 'round it, but I alius said we should be 
 willin' to make sacrifices fer our native town and the lib'ry 
 shell hev it. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 3 1 
 
 SiL. Wall, I reckon I'd better give ready money. Here's 
 ten cents to help the good cause along. 
 
 Cy. I give fifteen cents t'other day, but to show how awful 
 anxious 1 am to git the lib'ry started I'll give ten more makin' 
 a grand total of twenty-five cents. 
 
 Sam. Cyrus is so dredful lib'ral with his money thet I ex- 
 pect we'll die in the poor-house. 
 
 Mr. J. I've got an old 'rithmetic I studied when I wuz a 
 boy in school. Guess I'll give that. 
 
 Mrs. J. Think there's an old reader up in the attic too. 
 One your grandfather hed. You'd better give 'em that too. 
 Some real purty pieces in it. 
 
 Sam. I've got a copy of a fashion plate I've bin cutting my 
 skirts and polonaises by fer ten year but I've bin real keerful of 
 it and I'll give 'em that, 
 
 Cy. I'm glad we've gut sich publick-spirited people. Jonas 
 Townsend, the justice of peace, said he'd donate a co[)y of 
 Blackstone on law to give the risin' generation a chance to 
 . becum lawyers. He said his children had tore out 'bout half 
 the pages but the rest wuz all good. I know the doctor and 
 the minister'll give something so I think we've gut a turrible 
 good start and shell hev a fine lib'ry in a short time. 
 
 Sam. Cyrus, v/e must be going hum. When thet man gits 
 started on lib'ry he don't know when ter stop. 
 
 Cy. Wall, Samanthy, I'm all ready. Gut your egg-box? 
 
 Sam. Yes, and all the rest of my bundles. Good-night, 
 folks: - \_Exeunt Sam. and Cy. 
 
 Enter Katie Dusenberry, stands in centre of floor. 
 
 Mrs. J. Is there anything you want, Katie? 
 
 Katie. Oh, yes, I want a gold watch and a di'mond ring 
 and sealskin sacque and lots of things but pa sent me for some 
 cough medicine. 
 
 Mrs. J. Here's the cough medicine, Katie, but I guess 
 youMl hev to wait till ye grow up and marry a furrin nobleman 
 fer the rest of the things. 
 
 Mr. J. Your pa's been bavin' the grip, ain't lie, Katie? 
 
 Kat. Yes, and we're all tired out waitin' on him. He's 
 groanin' all the time, says his head'll split and his back'll break 
 and his legs are sore and he told ma he knew he was goin' to 
 die but ma told him he was too cross to die and the doctor said 
 there wa'n't much the matter with him and then pa got mad 
 
32 
 
 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 and told her he didn't want none of her Up. I guess we'll all 
 be glad when he gets better. He told me to hurry home with 
 this dope so I'll hev to run or I'll git it. [Exit Kat. 
 
 E7Uer Mandy Baker, followed by husband, a meek-looking 
 fnan %vho quietly sits behind stove and says nothing. 
 
 Mrs. J. Good-evenin', Mandy. 
 
 Mandy. Good-evenin', Mis' Jones. Any mail for me? 
 
 Mrs. J. Nothing for you but here's a letter for Job. 
 
 Job {comiiig to office, takes letter). May I open it, 
 Mandy ? 
 
 Mandy. No, put it in your pocket and I'll read it first 
 when we get home and see if I want you to read it. 
 
 (Job goes back to stove.) 
 
 Mrs. J. When did you git back from your Woman's Rights 
 Convention, Mandy? 
 
 Mandy. Got back last night. How I wish every womai) 
 in this town could hev gone to that meeting, then the bright day 
 would soon dawn when downtrodden woman should have her 
 rights. {Strikes attitude.) But, mark my words, in spite of 
 tyrant man who seeks to oppress us, some day we women will 
 arise in our might and demand the vote. But 'twon't do fer 
 us to rest easy and keep settin' quiet. We want the women of 
 this day and generation to live to see thet glorious day but 
 death is stealing on us unawares and with ev'ry breath I draw 
 some one drops dead. 
 
 Col Say, Mandy, you'd better take something fur your 
 breath if it's as bad as that. They do say as how coffee is 
 powerful good fer it. Jest chew up a mouthful onct in a while. 
 
 Mandy {looks at him scornfully but does not deign to reply. 
 Others laugh). What does man know about woman's work 
 which is never done? 
 
 SiL. Guess that's right in your case, Mandy. 
 
 Mandy {^continues, gesticulating). Is there one man here 
 who has ever done anything to lighten his wife's burdens," who 
 gets up in the mornin', cooks the breakfast, washes the dishes, 
 gets the children off to school, sews on buttons, bakes, mends 
 and does the thousand and one duties thet belong to a wife and 
 mother. Is there one such man here? 
 
 Job {risifig). Yes, Mandy, I'm right there, and I've done 
 all them things fer fifteen year so's you could attend your 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 33 
 
 woman's rights meetin's but even the patience of Job is gitting 
 party nigh exhausted. 
 
 Mandy. Job Baker, who asked you to speak? You sit 
 clown and keep quiet. 
 
 Job. Yes, Mandy. 
 
 (^Meekly subsides. ) 
 
 Mrs. J. I hear you recited a pome to the Convention. 
 Couldn't you let us hear it? 
 
 (Mandy recites ^^ Pr is cilia Prim'' s Vieivs on Woman's 
 Rights,'' Price, jo cents.') 
 
 Mandy. I'll hev two pounds of crackers and a half pound 
 of cheese. {^Gets them.) Job, come along home now quick. 
 You ain't washed your supper dishes yet. 
 
 Job (^sighing). Yes, Mandy. \_Exeunt Job and Mandy. 
 
 Mr. J. Ever see a reg'stered letter, colonel? 
 
 Col. No, I've heerd of 'em but I never see one on 'em. 
 
 Mr. J.' Here's one come fer Dr. Dolliver. Some one's 
 been sending him some money. 
 
 SiL. Let's see how the thing looks. Bill. 
 
 (Mr. J. hands out letter. Sil. and Col. examine closely, 
 hold up to light, etc.) 
 
 CoL. Looks about like enny letter. Wonder how mu'ch is 
 in it. 
 
 Sil. (^feeling). Should say 'bout five dollars by the feel. 
 
 (Mr. J. puts letter back. Enter Patrick.) 
 
 Patrick. Good-avening, gintlemen, and how do yez be 
 afther foinding yersilves ? Is there a letther for me, Misther 
 Jones ? 
 . Mr. J. Nothin' to-night, -Patrick. 
 
 Pat. Well, here's tin dollars I want to be sinding to me 
 auld mother in Ireland. 
 
 Mr. J. Just fill out this blank, Pat, and we'll send it along. 
 
 {Gives him blaiik.) 
 
 Pat. Ph what's this ? 
 
 Mr. J. It's a sorter letter of advice about the money. 
 Pat. Phwhat's that got to do wid me sinding me auld 
 mother tin dollars ? 
 
34 
 
 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mr. J. Oh, it's just a rule of the post-office that a letter of 
 advice must be sent to the postmaster when the money is sent 
 then. 
 
 Pat. Arrah, thin, I'll be afther wroiting a letther of advoice 
 to Michael O'Flynn and glad he'll be to be afther hearing 
 frum me, for begorra we wint to school togither in auld 
 Ireland. 
 
 {Takes papej' to counter and writes.') 
 Enter Dr. Dolliver. 
 
 Doctor. Good- evening, everybody. 
 
 Mr. J. Good-evenin', Doctor. How's all your patients? 
 Keepin' you purty busy. 
 
 Doctor. Lots of colds round. I tell folks they wouldn't 
 have grip if they'd keep their feet dry. 
 
 SiL. How do you account for Tim Small heving grip five 
 years runnin'. Doctor, when he's gut two wooden legs? 
 
 Doctor. Must have wet his stumps. 
 
 Col. Lot in the papers lately 'bout folks bein' buried alive. 
 Take any stock in it, Doctor? 
 
 Doctor. No, not a bit. I'm sure it never happens to any 
 of my patients. 
 
 Mr. J. Guess you're right there. Doctor. No hope for 'em 
 if y.ou git hold of 'em, eh ? 
 
 Doctor. Any mail for me to-night ? 
 
 Mr. J. Yes, got a reg'stered letter fur you, Doctor. Fust 
 time we ever had one come to the office. 
 
 Doctor. That so? Guess it must be conscience money. 
 {Looks at letter and puts in pocket. Walks up to notice and 
 reads.') Deacon wants to sell his old black horse, don't he? 
 Guess that horse must be having another spell of sickness and 
 the Deacon don't want to risk giving him any more medicine. 
 (Laughs.) Don't s'ix)se the Deacon ever told you about that 
 time he give the horse that dose of calomel ? (Laughs.) 
 
 Col. No, never heerd a word. Knew Deacon hed a spell 
 of sickness awhile ago. 
 
 Doctor. That was the time. {Laughs heartily.) He 
 came and asked me what he'd better do for the horse and I 
 told him to give him a dose of calomel, about ten times the 
 dose for a man. ''Can you get him to take it?" says I. 
 "Oh, yes," says he, '* I'll fix up a way to get it down his throat. 
 Well, the next morning his wife come running over for me to 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 35 
 
 come quick 'cause the Deacon was dying. (Laughs.) You 
 see he'd put a big chunk of wood in that horse's mouth to keep 
 it open, then he put the calomel in a piece of hose, put one 
 end in the horse's mouth and the other end in. his own, all 
 ready to blow it down the horse's throat but the old horse was 
 too smart for the Deacon and gave a good hard blow first and 
 blew every bit of that calomel down the Deacon's throat. About 
 finished him. [Laughter.) 
 
 SiL. Guess we'll hev a leetle fun with the Deacon 'bout 
 that when we see him. 
 
 Doctor. I've got to run in to see how Granny Brovyn is be- 
 fore I go to bed. Good-night. [^Exit Doctor. 
 
 Pat. Well, I've written the letther of ad voice and I'll be 
 afther rading it to yez. ''Dear Dennis, I'm towld I must be 
 afther wroiting you a little advoice if I do be sinding me mother 
 tin dollars, so I'll advoise ye to hand it over at onct or I'll give 
 ye a black oiye whin I see yez. Do yez moind the foine 
 toimes we used to have courtin' the gurrls in auld Ireland, but 
 shure, they're han'somer in Ameriky, and I advoise ye to be 
 comin' over to this glorious land of the free for it's rich I'm 
 after ghetting here. Oi've done as the law says and written 
 ye some good advoice, so hand over the tin dollars to me 
 mother. ' ' 
 
 Enter Delilah Martin, excited. 
 
 Delilah, I druv over alone and I met one of them awful 
 automobeels and it scairt me most to death. A body don't 
 take no comfort drivin' nowadays. 
 
 Mrs. J. Thet's jest so. Wuz your boss very much fright- 
 ened of the horrid thing ? 
 
 Del. Wall, he got mighty narvous but I ain't jest sartain 
 whether it's the autermobeel that skeered him or them creeturs 
 rigged up with goggles and sich like in 'em. I think one 
 looks 'bout as bad as t'other. 
 
 Mrs. J. Thet's jest Avhat I think. What any human bein' 
 wants to rig themselves up like that for is more'n I can sense. 
 There's a postal here for you, Deliiah. (^Looks but can' t find 
 it.) Well, I don't know where I d,id put that but it don't 
 make no diff 'rence. I read it and it wuz from your Cousin 
 Jane saying she wuz goin' to be married. Is she going to 
 make a good match ? 
 
 Del. I didn't think no great of him when she hed him here 
 last summer, but she says she's given it ser'us thought, bin to 
 
36 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 a 'trologer, a medjum, two hand-readers, and two card-readers, 
 and they all say to go ahead and marry him — Jane never was 
 one of the reckless kind — alius looks 'fore she leaps. Bein' as 
 I'm in here I might as well git her weddin' present. Didn't 
 you hev some little vases left from Chris'mus ? Guess one ot 
 'em would do. (Mrs. J. takes down several vases. Del. ex- 
 amines.^ These are kinder purty. How much is this one ? 
 
 Mrs. J. That one is ten cents. 
 
 Del. Well, now, I call thet reel han'sum and I reckon 
 she'll be tickled to death to hev it fer her parlor. I alius try 
 to give my relatives somethin' handsome fur a weddin' present. 
 Here's *your ten cents. Pay as you go, is my motto. 
 
 Mrs. J. S'pose you went to preachin' Sunday. You're 
 alius one of the faithful uns. 
 
 Del. Yes, I went, but we bed a drefful short sermon. 
 
 Mrs. J. How'd that happen ? Parson Dusenberry is usually 
 pretty lengthy. 
 
 Del. Wall, he sorter 'pologized fer it. His little gal Katie 
 has got a little puppy and he got into parson's study and 
 chewed up part of the sermon so he could only give us what 
 was left of it. Simon Fraser happened to be there and you 
 know he goes to the Advent Church and their preacher is tur- 
 rible long winded, so what does Simon do after preachin' but 
 go right up to Parson Dusenberry and ask if he couldn't buy 
 that pup to give to his preacher. 
 
 Mr. J. Huh, should think they would want to do some- 
 thing to stop him. You've heerd about the time he talked on 
 the prophets, ain't you ? He talked and talked 'bout the minor 
 prophets as he called 'em 'til ev'ry one was achin' fer him to 
 get through. Finally he finished 'em and his people drew a 
 sigh of relief, thought he'd got to the end, then he waded in 
 agin and said : ^' Now, I hev finished with the minor prophets, 
 but what about Nehemiah? Where is Nehemiah's place? 
 What room is there for Nehemiah? Where is his place?" 
 Thet wuz too much fer Simon so he riz up and sez-, " Nehe- 
 miah can have my place, Fm goin' hum." Made the parson 
 awful mad but Si didn't keer a bit. 
 
 Pat. Shure, he's the wan I wint to hear one morning and 
 he kapt a-sayin' over and over, " Who'll be the shape and who'll 
 be the goats ? Who'll be the shape and who'll be the goats? " 
 And no one would be ayther so I riz up and says, *' Fll be the 
 shape and this man be me soide will be the goat. Now^ go on 
 and till us the joke." 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 37 
 
 Mrs. J. I heerd you hed the Methodist and Advent min- 
 ister both to tea the other night. 
 
 Del. Yes, I'm a Methodist and James is an Advent, so I 
 thought I'd make one gittin' ready do for both of them, and I 
 never thought of the blessin' till we got set down to the table 
 and 1 didn't know which one to ask fur fear of oftendin' the 
 other, but my boy Tommy, quick as a flash, began countin' 
 out *'One, two, three, mother caught a flea, the flea died and 
 mother cried, one, two, three," and ended by pointin' his finger 
 at the Advent one and called out, '' You're it, go ahead and 
 ask the blessin' 'fore the biskits git all cold," and that settled 
 it all right. 
 
 Col. Purty good preacher, thet Methedist parson, ain't 
 he? 
 
 Del. Yes, he's a good preacher, but his deefness does 
 trouble him turrible. Why, only a fortnite ago come Sunday 
 he asked Deacon Solomon to give out a notice about some new 
 hymn books and also about some children thet wuz goin' to be 
 baptized. Well, the Deacon forgut all about the hymn books, 
 but gave out the notice about the christening, said : *' All 
 those who have children to be baptized, please send their names 
 at once to the parson." The parson never heerd a word but 
 surmised he wuz talkin' 'bout the new hymn books, so he sez, 
 " I will say for the benefit of those who haven't any yet that 
 they may obtain them at the sewing circle next Wednesday, 
 the. little ones at twenty-five cents and the larger ones at fifty 
 cents." (^Laughter. y That old boss of mine'U be tired 
 standin' while I'm a-gossiping here. Guess he's got over his 
 skeer now and I'd better be a-going. Hev to look out not to 
 break this air vase. \^Exit Del. 
 
 SiL. Are you working now, Pat ? 
 
 Pat. No, I'm afther hiking for a job. Do ]»ez know of 
 anny one that nades a foirst-class man ? 
 
 SiL. What can you do ? Can you take care of horses ? 
 
 Pat. Shure, 'twould warrum your heart to see the care I'd 
 be afther takin' of them. 
 
 SiL. Know anything about pigs, Pat ? 
 
 Pat. Shure, and didn't we alway have a houseful of the 
 craturs in auld Oireland, 
 
 Col. Si Poland is buildin' a new house. P'raps you could 
 get a job there ? Know how to make an Italian blind ? 
 
 Pat. Shure, that's aisy as roUin' off a log. 
 
 Col. How would you go to work at it, Pat ? 
 
38 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Pat. Shure, I'd poke my two fingers in his two oiyes and 
 he'd be bhnd as a bat in a jiffy. 
 
 Mr. J. Better get naturalized, Pat, then you'd get a job all 
 right. 
 
 Pat. Shure, and that's what I troid to do last wake, and 
 the fule axed me had I red the Declaration of Indepandance 
 and 1 sed, '' Oi hev not," thin he says, *' Hev you red the Con- 
 stitution ? " and I says, '* I hev not," then he luked ugly loike 
 and says he, '* What hev you red ? " and says I, *' 1 hev red 
 hair on my head." 
 
 SiL. Guess you've got the Irish wit. Can you tell me the 
 difference between wit and humor ? 
 
 Pat. Begorra, it's loike the difference betwane whin yir 
 woife tickles ye undher the chin wid a sthraw from the broom 
 and whin she hits ye over the head with the handle of it. 
 
 Col. Wonder what Mandy Baker thought 'twas when she 
 tackled me one day last summer. I hed the toothache and 
 wuz a-lyin' with my face down in the grass out in the sun front 
 of the house and she come along, didn't know me, thought it 
 wuz some one drunk, so she began giving one of her temp'rance 
 lectures with a hull lot of figgers telling how one glass of beer 
 put out to int'rest in David's time would amount to millions 
 and a lot more figgers. I was feeling purty ugly with thet old 
 tooth aching like all possessed, so I jest turned over on my 
 back and sez, sez I, "No, I don't know nothin' 'bout them 
 figgers and don't want ter but I've gut a few figgers of my own 
 I'll give you. If you don't vamoose two hundred and twenty- 
 five feet in two seconds I'll hit you ninety-seven times and 
 make you see a million stars," and she vamoosed lively, now, I 
 tell ye. 
 
 Pat. Say, did yez iver see wan of these tiliphones ? 
 
 Mr. J. No, did you, Pat ? 
 
 Pat. Yes, I wurruked in a coal-yard in the city onct and 
 wan day the man in the office had to go out and axed would -I 
 answer the tiliphone. I'd watched him wurruk the thing so 
 said, "Faix an' I will that." This tiliphone, you understand is 
 a contrapshun with a sender and a recaver at each ind of the 
 loine. You take the sinder up and put it to your mouth and 
 ye put the recaver to yer ear and ye say hello in the recaver. 
 (^Goes through motions.^ In a minit the bell on the tiliphone 
 rung and I put the recaver to my ear and says, "hello." 
 "Hello," says the other feller, "is this 649562?" "Aw, 
 gwan," ses I, " do you think I'm a freight car? " and I hung 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFlCE 39 
 
 up the auld recaver. Thought they could be afther playing 
 their joikes on me but I jist left 'em. 
 
 Mr. J. Think you're as smart as any of 'em, don't you, 
 Pat? 
 
 Pat. Indade and I do. I met wan of these big-faling 
 craturs in the city onct and he wanted to know where the 
 mayor lived so I towld him and thin jist frindl-y loike I axed 
 him who he moight be and he says, *' I am the Right Honor- 
 able Royal Ethelbert Sommers, Knight of the Cross, Knight 
 of St. John, Knight of St. George, Knight of the Golden 
 Fleece, Knight of Malta." '*Shure," says I, ''I'm plazed to 
 meet you. I'm Patrick O' Mulligan of Dublin, Ireland, last 
 noight, to-noight, noight before last, and ivery other noight 
 in the wake." (^Enter Norah Cassidy.) Good-avenin', 
 Norah, shure it's a sight fur sore oiyes to be afther seeing yez 
 the noight. 
 
 Norah. Go long wid yer auld blarney, Patrick O' Mul- 
 ligan. Mrs. Jones, the missus towld me to get some marconi. 
 
 Mrs. J. I wonder what that is. I wonder if she meant 
 macaroni. 
 
 {Takes out stick of macaroni and shows.') 
 
 Nor. Shure, ma'am, he's that to ate ? When I wurruked 
 in the city for Mrs. Gibbs they did be afther usin' wan of thim 
 sticks to loight the gas. 
 
 Mrs. J. I reckon this is what Mis' Briggs wants. She asked 
 me to get some. Guess nobudy else here uses the stuff. What 
 made you leave your place in the city, Norah ? 
 
 Nor. (arms on hips). Phvvat made me lave? 'Tis afther 
 insultin' me yez are, ma'am. I'd loike to see anny wan could 
 make me lave. Oi go whin I plazes and not a day before. 
 
 Mrs. J. Mis' Briggs said she'd give you a trial, didn't 
 she? 
 
 Nor. That's phwat she said but I sed to her, Indade, and 
 ye'll not be afther giving me a troial, shure I hed too many 
 troials in my last place and I'll stand no more from annybudy. 
 
 Mr. J. How is Mr. Briggs this evenin' ? He's bin quite 
 sick, ain't he ? 
 
 Nor. Shure, he's worse this avenin'. He was taken wid 
 another dizase this afthernoon. 
 
 Mr. J. What's the trouble with him now ? 
 
 Nor. I don't know jist phwat it is but the doctor do be 
 callin' it convalescent. 
 
40 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mrs. J. You've bin sick yourself, hevn't you, Norah ? 
 
 Nor. Yes, and moighty scared I was at foirst whin the 
 dockter tovvld me the long name of the dizase but whin he only 
 charged me fifty cents I knew it didn't be afther amountin' to 
 mooch, 
 
 Pat. Where's your Cousin Bridgit that used to bay afther 
 wurruking over beyant ? 
 
 Nor. Shure, she wint to New Yorruk and she he's goin' to 
 be married come Aister. 1 hear Casey is a foine man but I do 
 be tellin' her she moight hev looked hoigher. 
 
 Pat. Indade and how's that ? 
 
 Nor. Casey worruks in the cellar av wan of thim skoi- 
 scrapers in New Yorruk and by turning over hir little finger she 
 moight hev had Finnegan phwat worruks on the top story of 
 that same skoiscraper. Shure, an' I would hev looked hoigher 
 and been afther taking Finnegan. 
 
 Mrs. J. Where's that beau of yours, Norah, that used to 
 be acomin' 'round here? 
 
 Nor. Shure and niver anither worrud will I iver be afther 
 sayin' to him agin. He got hurt drivin' a hivy coal tame and 
 they were afther taking him to the hospital. Shure, me heart 
 ached for the poor boy so I wint to see him. I wint to wan of 
 thim dockter and sa3S, " Oi want to say the man phwat was 
 run over by the tame." -'Yez can't," says he, " he's under 
 the infloonce of Ann Esthetics." " Oi don't know who Miss 
 Ann Esthetics is," says 1, " but if he'll act loike that and git 
 under some low crature's infloonce now what'll he do whin 
 we're married. Shure, I'll not be afther marrying him at all, 
 at all," and I lift moighty dignifoid loike. 
 
 Pat. It's moighty stoylish ye're looking the noight, 
 Nornh. 
 
 Nor. Shure, the missus hed company to tay and she do 
 be afther troiying to make a great show and she says, '* Norah, 
 I hope you'll spread yirsilf." Shure, and I'm willin' to oblage 
 so I put on this hoopskirt to spread all I could but me poor 
 kismet do ache from being on 'em all day. 
 
 Mrs. J. Your kismet ache? What on airth is your kismet, 
 Norah ? 
 
 Nor. Shure, you niver lived in the city, did yez,. to larn 
 their talk. Kismet means yer fate cause where I worruked in 
 the city the missus had wan of them figgers, statutory she called 
 it and whin I was dustin' it wan day I axed her what the worrud 
 on the bottom was and she says it was kismet and meant fate. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 4I 
 
 Yes, I have some corns on me kismet. Do yez be afther sell- 
 ing any corn plasters ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, this is fine fur corns. Ten cents a box. 
 
 Nor. I'll be afther having a box. I see you hev some of 
 them mottoes loike the missus bought the other day. Shure, I 
 think they're jist illigant. Your bhoy brought it up while the 
 missus was out and 1 put it up in the parlor where it luked 
 foine, but the missus tuk it down rale hateful loike as soon as 
 she got her oiye on it. 
 
 Mrs. J. Why, Norah, those are door-mats to wipe your 
 feet on. 
 
 Nor. Woipe your fate on sich an illigant thing as that. 
 It's strange things they do be doing in this counthry. It's 
 home I must be afther gitting. \^Exit Nor. 
 
 Enter Italian, very stiff motioned. 
 
 Italian. Meester, you have eeny medeceen to purify de 
 blood ? 
 
 Mr. J. Here's a bottle of sas'parilla, clean your blood and 
 clear your complexion. 
 
 It. Got eenything feefty cent for de blood ? Don't care 
 'bout coompleexon. 
 
 Mr. J. Yes, here's something for fifty cents. 
 
 It. I takes eet. 
 
 SiL. Dago, what makes you so stiff? 
 
 It. I weel tell to you. When I leetle child was, muskeetoes 
 bite me much. My mother bathe me with, what you call eet, 
 sodee, sodee, strong sodee. One day she got ready bathe me, 
 no think of sodee, called my father to bring sodee, he made 
 mistake, brought starch, mother used it, made stiff all my life. 
 
 Col. What makes your nose so red, Pat? 
 
 Pat. Shure, it glowin' with proid because it kapes out of 
 other paple's bizness. Say, you're an Eyetalyun, ain't ye? 
 
 It. No, no ; me Frenchman ; father, mother born Italy, 
 Italians. I born in France, Frenchman. 
 
 Pat. Begorra, thin if a cat had kittens in the oven, would 
 they be biskits? Come on, Frenchie, let's be afther going. 
 
 [Exetmt Pat and It. 
 
 Enter Mr. a?id Mrs. Jonathan Abner. Mrs. Abner goes 
 over to Mrs. J. Mr. Abner to stove. 
 
 Mrs. J. Glad to see ye back, Cynthy. Hed a nice visit 
 in the city with yer darter? 
 
42 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Cynthia. I wuz rale pleased to see Rachel but they dew 
 hev strange doin's in the city. I never wuz in the city before 
 and never rode on the keers and I dunno as I ever want to 
 agin but I got along purty well. I watched other folks and 
 did as they did and as I alius said if you use your eyes and 
 your tongue you kin git along anywhere. I want some turkey 
 red cotton, Jerushy, and some piller-ticking. I'm goin' to fill 
 two pillars with my goose feathers and send 'em to Rachel. 
 
 (^Examifies goods.') 
 
 Col. Did ye git a good price fur your hay, Jonathan ? 
 
 Jonathan. Purty fair but money's kinder scurce round 
 here. Papers hev a good deal to say 'bout tainted money 
 lately but as near as I kin figger it thar's just two reasons why 
 that air money is tainted. 
 
 SiL. What's the two reasons, Jonathan ? 
 
 JuN. 'Cause 'tain't yours and 'tain't mine. {Laughs.) 
 
 Sjl. Well, there's times when I don't keer fur all the money 
 in the world, tainted or not tainted. 
 
 Jon. That must be when you say with Solomon ''AH is 
 vanity." 
 
 SiL. No, it's when I'm asleep. 
 
 Col. How'd you come out with thet air consarn you wuz 
 makin' fer waterin' yer garden, Jonathan ? 
 
 Jon, I worked on thet tarnal thing fer days and there 
 wa'n't a sign of rain, jist got it finished and started out to 
 water thet garden and it began to rain cats and dogs. Can't 
 do anything without competition these days. It rained most 
 ev'ry day the rest of the summer. 
 
 Cyn. As I wuz a sayin' i watched what other folks did. 
 I didn't jest know how to buy a ticket but I saw a lady go up 
 to a little gate so I jist follered her and she says Cora Vale, 
 single and puts down her money so I put down my money and 
 sed "Cynthia Abner, married." The man wuz reel pleasant 
 and smilin' and asked me where I wuz goin' and give me the 
 ticket. Wall, I got in the keer, and I confess I did feel 
 narvous at fust but I got along purty well until 1 turned round 
 and saw there wuz an injun hitched on the back of us and I'd 
 alius heern tell it 'ud make a body sick to ride back'ards so 
 when the man that takes the tickets went by I jest pulled his 
 coat and says, "Couldn't you take that injun off the back ? 
 I'm afeerd I'll be sick," but he jest laffed and said it wuz a 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 43 
 
 Steep place aiul they needed it there to push but he was reel 
 accom'adating and hed it tuk off in a little while. 
 
 Mrs. J. How'd you know when to git off? 
 
 Cyn. Wall, I kep' askin' ev'ry one round me ev'ry few 
 minits if we'd got to Oaklands, thet's where Rachel lives, and 
 they said they'd tell me and they did but after we got off the 
 keers we hed to ride on them pesky 'lectric keers and I got 
 purly narvous fear they'd carry us by Rachel's on 'em but I 
 nolised the man that took the money kept callin' names and 
 people 'ud get out. He called William and the keer stopped 
 and a man got out, s'pose his name was William, then he 
 called Ellis and another man got* out so I knew by thet you 
 jist had to tell him your front name and he'd tell you when to 
 git out so I told Jonathan and he stud up and sed, '* My fust 
 name is Jonathan and we want to git out at Oaklands." The 
 man was reel pleasant and laffed hearty like and ses he, *' That's 
 a long way yet," so we jest settled back to see the sights. 
 People kep' a puUin' on a bell and I asked a boy thet sot side 
 of me what thet was for and he sez, '* You pull thet one when 
 you want soirnethin' to eat." I felt kinder faint seein' as how 
 I didn't eat much breakfast so I thought I'd like a little bite to 
 eat and I pulled thet bell good and hard about a dozen times. 
 The man came along, lookin' reel ugly and ses he, "Who 
 pulled thet bell?" "I did," ses I, ''and I'll hev a good, 
 strong cup of tea and a doughnut." ''That'll cost me about 
 a' dollar," ses he. " Land sakes," ses I, " vittles is high here 
 be'n't they? " but he never brought 'em to me at all. I'll hev 
 two yards of this air turkey-red and four yards of the tickin' 
 and two postage stamps. 
 
 Mrs. J. What denomination ? 
 
 Cyn. Wall, now, Jerushy, ye know as well as I dew thet 
 I've bin a Methedist all my da)'s, alius belonged to thet de- 
 nomination. 
 
 Mrs. J. One or two cent stamps, I meant, Cynthy. 
 
 Cyn. Two cents uns. What's the price of this air 
 thermom'ler? 
 
 Mrs. J. Forty-eight cents. 
 
 Cyn. Wall, we broke ourn yisterday but I guess I'll wait 
 till next time 1 come 'fore I buy a new one 'cause I read in 
 ternight's paper thet thermom'ters would droj) 'fore mornin' so 
 I might as well save a leetle on it. 
 
 Jon. {comi77g over to box near counter^. What kind of fish 
 you got here, Bill ? 
 
44 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mr. J. That's codfish. Don't you know codfish when you 
 see it ? 
 
 Jon. {holding up several long hairs'). Got so much hair on 
 it, didn't know but it was a mermaid. Got any cohars? 
 (Mr. J. sJiows collars; Jon. fries on.) These ain't big- 
 enough. Ain't you got nothin' bigger, Bill? 
 
 CuL. Say, Jonathan, you'll hev to go to a harness shop to 
 git fitted. 
 
 JoN. Dunno but I will. What'd you call them things ? 
 
 Mr. J. Tliet's somethin' new. They call 'em sweaters and 
 they say they're fine and warm fer cold weather. Knit of 
 wool and slips on over yer'head. 
 
 JoN. Wall, now, I reckon one of them would be jist the 
 huckeberry for me to wear haulin' wood. Don't you think so, 
 mother ? 
 
 Cyn. Yes, looks as if it might be reel comfort' ble. 
 
 Jon. Guess I'll try it on to see if it fits. {After very much 
 work gets it on.) It's a sight of trouble to git the thing on 
 but it does make you warm. ( Wipes face.) How'd you like 
 it, mother ? • 
 
 Cyn. It looks rale nice on ye. 
 
 Jon. {tries to take off, after long and 7?iany contortions 
 succeeds). Sweaters, ye call 'em. They're well named, don't 
 know when I've ever taken sich a sweat. Too much of a 
 sweater fur me, guess I'll stick to my old cardigan a spell 
 longer. 
 
 Mrs. J. S'pose you went to church in the city, Cynthy? 
 
 Cyn. Yes, 1 did and I never see sich bad manners. The 
 hull choir wuz up thar and sung nice most of the time but 
 when one young woman thet I s'j^ose they hed a spite agin 
 begun to sing every one of thet hull choir stopped short but 
 she wuz purty spunky and went right through it alone, s'pose 
 she wa'n't going to let on it plagued her none. She kerried 
 the tune pretty well too but I guess she felt a leetle confused 
 fur she kep' sayin' the same words over and over. S'pose ihey 
 were mad at her fer somethin' but 'twas a mean way to spite 
 themselves. 
 
 Mrs. J. I should say so. Did you see anything of Mrs. 
 Page, she thet wuz Betsey Ann Sampson ? They do says she 
 lives in great style. 
 
 Cyn. I didn't want her to hear I'd bin to the city and 
 hedn't called on her so I hunted her up. They dew say as 
 how she is to hum on a hoss and I wuz kinder 'feerd she'd be 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 45 
 
 on one when I called and 1 shouldu'l exactly know how to act 
 talkin' to a woman in the house on a hoss but she wa'n't and 
 I was thankfuL 
 
 SiL. Jonathan, how's your son gittin' along thet went out 
 West ? 
 
 Jon. Oh, he's makin' his fortin out thar. I tell you the 
 West is the place fer a young man nowadays. Expect he'll be 
 one of these air billionaires in a few year. He alius wuz a 
 mighty smart boy, too smart fer this leetle town, had to git off 
 to show his mettle. 
 
 Mr. J. Thet makes me think. Thar's a letter fer you, 
 Jonathan. P'raps it's frum him. 
 
 Jon. {takes letter, looks at it carefully). Yes, I guess thet's 
 frum him. Don't forgit his old father and mother in his 
 prosperity. Prob'bly sending some money. Mother, got yer 
 glasses? I ain't got mine with me. 
 
 Cyn. No, I left mine to hum, too. Mis' Jones'll read it to 
 us. His town people'U all be inter'sted to hear of his success. 
 
 Mrs. J. (j-eads). **Dear Father, meet me at the old saw- 
 mill to-morrer night after dark. Bring with you a quilt and a 
 pair of shoes. I hev a hat, a collar and a pair of shoe-strings." 
 
 Jon. Cynthy, do you see the time? We must git right 
 home. \_Exeunt Jon. a?id Cyn. hurriedly. 
 
 (^Great laughter.) 
 
 SiL. Guess they wish you hadn't told his towns people of his 
 great success, Mis' Jones. 
 
 Enter Martha Reynolds, limping. 
 
 Mrs. J. What's happened to you, Marthy? 
 
 Martha. Thet pesky cat of mine bit my toe, bin lettin' 
 the old tabby sleep with me sence it's bin so cold and along 
 near mornin' last We'n'sday, no Thursdays, let me see, no 
 'twas We'n'sday, no 'twasn't We'n'sday, yes, I believe 'twas 
 We'n'sday I felt somethin' hurt awful, woke me up out of a 
 sound sleep and do you know^ thet old cat had bit my toe 'til it 
 bled. I wuz so mad I jest opened the winder and throwed thet 
 cat out. 
 
 Mrs. J. Arniky is dreadful good to take out soreness. 
 
 Mar. I've bin putting thet on and it's some better. 
 Reckon it'll be all right in a few days now. 
 
 Enter Hans Schneider. 
 
46 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Hans. Haf you any sauerkraut, Mester Jones ? 
 
 Mr. J. No, we don't keep that at all. Not enough Ger- 
 mans around here to eat it. 
 
 Hans. Mine vife ees sick and I vant to git something make 
 her eet, make her veil. 
 
 Mrs. J. What's the matter with your wife, Hans? 
 
 Hans. The doctors do call eet the indeegestion. We used 
 to put up sefen barrels of sauerkraut ev'ry fall but dose cabbage 
 were so high dis fall we could only afford to put up t'ree barrel 
 to haf in case of sickness but mine vife and childers been sick 
 so mooch this winter it ees all gone. 1 must get something for 
 mine vife to eet to make her veil. Haf you any sausages? 
 
 Mr. J. No, we're all out of sausages. 
 
 Hans. What haf you in dose can up there ? 
 
 Mr. J. {takes down large tin box). That's corn beef hash. 
 A new lot I've jest got in. 
 
 SiL. Them's a good deal bigger cans then you used to hev, 
 Bill. 
 
 Mr. J. . There ain't no more in 'em but thet air new food 
 law makes 'em print everythin' they put in the hash so they 
 hed to have a good, big box to git it all on. 
 , Hans. How mooch is de hash ? 
 
 Mr. J. Twenty-five cents. 
 
 Hans. I take it — it vill maype make mine sick vife veil. 
 
 {^Exit Hans. 
 
 Mar. 'Pears to me ye're gettin' fat, ain't you, Jerushy? 
 Look's if you'd put on thirty or forty pound the last month. 
 Gittin' kinder chunky, tubby and double chinned. You reely 
 ought to do somethin' fer your figger, physical torture or some 
 sich exercises. You're gettin' old lookin' in the back. Don't 
 think that dress you've got on is rale becomin' to you, kinder 
 brings out the sailer in your complexion. Seems jest as if some 
 l)eople didn't hev enny ambition 'tall. Jist give up and let 
 themselves git^as ugly as they could. 
 
 Mrs. J. [frigidly). Was there anything you wanted, 
 Marthy ? 
 
 Mar. I want two pounds of sugar and a paper of pins. 
 
 Mrs. J. William, you git the sugar, will you? 
 
 (Mrs. J. looks for pins.) 
 
 Mar. Seems to me your darter 'Lizbeth was lookin' dred- 
 ful peaked last time I seen her. Hain't enny consumption in 
 the family, be there ? People with her complexion usually die 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 47 
 
 of consumption and I shud think you'd feel reel narvous 'bout 
 her. Your boy, Jim Henry, purty troublesome, ain't he ? I 
 s'pose the neighbors hate to say anything to you 'bout it but 
 they all say they believe he'll end on the gallus. Don't see 
 what you kin do though 'cept worry over it. 
 
 Mrs. J. Here are your pins. 
 
 Mr. J. And here's your sugar. 
 
 Mar. Land sakes, thet's a turrible small bundle fer two 
 pound. If you ever leave the store bizness you'd better go into 
 the prize ring. You'd be a good light-weight ; guess I'll look 
 at some onbleached cloth, Jerushy — got to be a makin' some 
 new sheets purty quick. 
 
 Col. {coming to coimter). Guess I'll hev a plug of tobaccy 
 and a few matches, Bill. 
 
 i^Goes back to stove.) 
 Enter Agent. 
 
 Agent. Cawn't I interwest you gentlemen in a life in- 
 suwance, something every man with a family ought to attend 
 to. Will you give me youah attention while I explain the 
 mewits of my company. 
 
 Mr. J. Yes, go ahead if you want to. 
 
 Agent. My company has the gweatest capital back of it 
 of any on earth, always pays its insuwance pvvomptly, pays no 
 lawge salaries, is perfectly safe and sound, wates cheaper than 
 any company in existence, don't-cher-know. Now don't you 
 want to take out a policy? 
 
 Mr. J. No, I only thought I've give ye a chance to practice 
 sayin' your little piece sence you wanted to so bad. I'm an 
 insurance agent myself and got these air fellers insured. 
 
 Agent. Cawn't I interwest you in a typewriter? Evah 
 see one? Gweat help in makin' out your bills. 
 
 Mr. J. No-sir-ee. Got stuck on them onct. Thought 
 they'd be kinder handy seein' I'm not very knacky with the 
 pen but they're regular swindles. Can't even write your name 
 with it onless ye can play the organ. 
 
 Agent. Ev'ry man who wuns a post-office ought to have a 
 safe. Just look at this catalogue — our safes are absolutely 
 fire-proof. We twied it — put a dog in it — suwwounded it with 
 fire for a week, opened that safe, how do you think we found 
 that dog ? 
 
 Col. Dead, of course. 
 
48 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Agent. Yes, how do you think he died ? Fwoze to death. 
 Better owder one of them. 
 
 Mr. J. I reckon I don't need one of 'em yit awhile. 
 
 Agent. Cawn't seem to make any impvvession on you 
 gentlemen. 
 
 (^Goes over to women.) 
 
 SiL. I b'lieve I larned in school that an impression is a dent 
 in a soft spot. Reckon 'twould be purty easy to make an im- 
 pression in his head. 
 
 Agent. Ladies, cawn't I sell you this beautiful book, 
 pwofusely illustwated — a dozen of silvah forks with each 
 ordah. 
 
 Mar. Humph, I've heern tell they use them air forks in the 
 city but we don't never use 'em to our house. They leak. 
 Knife's good enough fur us to eat with. 
 
 Agent (^puts up lorgnette and inspects her, 7valks away dis- 
 gusted). Aw, have you any cigawettes ? 
 
 Mr. J. No, we don't keep them. Got some good plug 
 tobaccy and a T. D. Try one of 'em. 
 
 Agent. Naw, it would be too stwong for my constitwution. 
 ( Walks over to stove.) What do you fellahs do wlien you sit 
 awound the stove every night ? 
 
 SiL. Wall, sometimes we set and think and then agin other 
 times we jest set. 
 
 Agent. Could you tell me where I'd find Mr. Joseph 
 Wobinson in the mowning? 
 
 Col. Wall, he'll likely be down in his orchard with his 
 hogs. You'll know him 'cause he'll hev a hat on. 
 
 Mr. J. Here's a letter fur Mr. Frances St. Clair Bigelow. 
 Anybudy you know, mister? 
 
 Agent. Aw, yes, that's for me. {Opens and reads.) " I 
 am sending by mail the bundle containing your ulster. The 
 buttons were so heavy I cut them off and you will find them in. 
 the inside left-hand pocket." My sistah is an awfully bwiglit 
 girl. Has the bundle awwived ? 
 
 Mr. J. No, ain't seen nothin' of it. S^Exit Agent. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Briggs and son. 
 
 Mrs. Briggs. I would like to look at some culinary 
 utensils. 
 
 Mrs. J. (Jiesitating). We hevn't any of them. 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 49 
 
 Mrs. B. Why, I see some on the shelf, those kettles. 
 Mrs. J. Oh, is thet what you mean ? 
 
 (^Takes down kettles.) 
 
 Claudius. Mama, what is that ? 
 
 {Pointing to some tiling on shelf .^ 
 
 Mrs. B. Never point at anything, my dear. 
 
 Claud. But supposing I don't know the name of it. 
 
 Mrs. B. Then let the salesman take down everything in 
 the store until he comes to it. 
 
 Mar. What's your little boy's name ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Claudius Cecil Le Baron Francis Ethelbert Briggs. 
 
 Mar. Land sakes, no wonder he looks delicate, carryin' all 
 thet round with him. That's a purty little pin you've got on. 
 (^Gets up and examines //.) Reel purty fur a cheap out. 
 S'pose your husband give it to you to keep you still 'bout thet 
 grass widdy he's takin' to ride so much. 
 
 Mrs. B. My husband does no such thing. 
 
 Mar. I told 'em I didn't believe you knew nothin' 'bout it 
 and I thought ye oughter be told and I don't never shirk my 
 duty, Thet hat you've got on looks a leetle young fer you, I 
 think it's a mistake to try to look girlish after you're middle-aged 
 and old lookin'. Well, I must be goin'. Mr, Jones, thet 
 rockin' cheer you sold me t'other day ain't no good fur nothin', 
 rockers ain't even and it keeps agoin' all over the carpet, 
 
 Mr. J. {winking). Jerushy, didn't Jim Henry make a mis- 
 take and take Marthy one of them new patent rockers thet 
 move round so's not to wear out the carpet in one spot? 
 
 Mrs. J, I thought I missed thet patent rocker. Guess he 
 must have. 
 
 Mr. J. Thet rocker cost a dollar more'n the other. I'll 
 send Jim Henry over fur it in the mornin', Marthy, and send 
 you one of the reg'lar kind. 
 
 Mar. No, you wun't neither, mistake er no mistake it's your 
 own fault and I won't pay the extra doller and I wun't change 
 it. \_Exit Mar. 
 
 Mr. J. Thought that ud fix her. 
 
 Mrs. B. I'd like to look at some dress goods, (Mrs. J. 
 takes doW7i sevef-al pieces.) I didn't want to buy any. I was 
 just looking for my sister. 
 
 Mrs. J, Oh, then here's one more piece. Let me take that 
 down. Perhaps you will find your sister in that. 
 
50 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 Mr. J. I hear your husband got hurl, Mis' Briggs. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes he is suftering from abrasion of the cuticle, 
 tumefaction, ecchymosis and extravasation m the integument 
 and cellular tissue about the left orbit. 
 
 SiL. {aside). He got drunk and got a black eye. That's 
 all thet ails him 
 
 Enter Henry Withrow. 
 
 Henry. Ma wants to know if you've gut any nursing 
 bottles. 
 
 Mrs. J. Got jest one left. S'pose you're tickled to death 
 with thet new baby brother, ain't you ? 
 
 Hen. Naw, he's no good. 
 
 Mr. J. What's the matter with him, Henry? 
 
 Hen. Aw, he's a sight, his face is red all over and he's 
 baldheaded and he ain't gut no teeth and he can't do nuthin' 
 but holler and cry all the time. I'd a good deal ruther hev a 
 dorg. How much is the bottle ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Ten cents, Henry. 
 
 Hen. Ten cents jest throwed away. I want a stick uv 
 molasses candy. \^Exit Hen. 
 
 Mrs. J. I hear you hev Jennie Frost working fer you. 
 You'd better watch her. She ain't exacdy honest. 
 
 Mrs. B. She is not as culpable as they say. She simply 
 lacks the high intelligence which enables her to exercise fine 
 ethical discrimination. I would like a dozen of the hen fruit. 
 
 Mr. J. Meanin' eggs, I s'pose. • 
 
 Mrs, B. Come, Claudius Cecil Le Baron Ethelbert Francis, 
 it's time you were in bed. \_Exeiint Mrs. B. and Claud. 
 
 Enter Matildy Hoxie with shawl over head, cup in hand. 
 
 Matildy. Good-evenin', Mis' Jones, wuz most reddy fer 
 bed when I thought I hedn't set my bread and I didn't hev 
 enny hop 'east so I jest run over to borry a cupful. Got any 
 to spare ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, I made a new batch yesterday. (^Goes out 
 in kitche7i to get it. Mat. goes up to poster ha?igingon wall.') 
 What's this, somethin' they're a-goin' to hev at the church ? 
 
 Mr. J. Yes, a temp'rance talk, Tildy. 
 
 Mat. Dew tell, guess I'll hev to put on my specs and read 
 it. {Puts on glasses, reads aloud.) *' Leckture on temp'rance. 
 Rev. Adoniram Moore will leckture in the basement of the 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 5 1 
 
 Methedist Church next Tuesday evenin', on the Evil Effects 
 of Temp' ranee. Rev. Mr. Moore is an authority on the sub- 
 jectk, bein' as how he is a drunkard hisself. Come one, come 
 all, and hear his great leckture. No admission will be charged 
 to nobudy. Two hours' talk fur nuthin'. Them as drinks is 
 invited and them as don't but would like to has a specshul 
 invite to attend. Doors will be throwed open at six thirty. 
 Leckture at seven. Come early and git good seats up front. 
 Remember there is no charge. Here is a chance to git some- 
 thin' fur nuthin'. The church will be het." (^Takes off 
 glasses.) Well, I hope a good number will turn out if the 
 sassiety is goin' to the expense of heving the church het besides 
 burning out keerosene. 
 
 Enter Mrs. J., with cup of yeast. 
 
 Mrs. J. Here's your 'east, Tildy. 
 
 Mat. Much obleeged. I'll do as much for you some tim 
 Jerushy. 
 
 Mrs. J. Wa'n't there a letter fur Tildy, William ? 
 
 Mr. J. Believe I did see one fur her. 
 
 Mat. That so? Don't b'lieve I've hed a letter fer five 
 years. Wonder who can be a-writin' to .me. (Mr. J. hands 
 her letter. She opens and reads.) Well, if it isn't from 
 Brother Henry that went to Californy twenty-five year ago. 
 Fust time I've heerd from him. Says he arrived safely. 
 
 Mrs. J. How your grandmother ? 
 
 Mat. She wuz kinder sick yesterday but she's purty well 
 most of the time and real hearty. Et a hull mince pie and 
 half a dozen doughnuts fer lunch 'fore she went to bed the 
 other night. She thinks prob'bly 'twus somethin' she et kinder 
 upset her, but she can't think what 'tvvuz. Purty smart fur a 
 woman that's ninety come June. My chilblains are botherin' 
 me turrible, guess I'll hev to rub 'em with keerosene. Ever 
 try thet fer chilblains? Did you know Jedidy Pinkham "hed 
 left off her mournin' an' wuz wearin' gray colors ag'in ai>' it's 
 roomered she hez a beau. I think it's scanderlous when her 
 last husband's grave ain't grassed over yit. That makes me 
 think did you know Amely Haines had given Clem Henderson 
 the mitten, and they say Clem is turrible broke up over it bein' 
 as he's bin courtin' her fifteen year and intended to get mar- 
 ried 'fore many years more. Heerd about Tom Hawes ? He's 
 hed a bad cold on his chest fur some time and Mis' Withrow 
 giv.e him some horse liniment and told him to rub it on 'fore 
 
52 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 he .went to bed and 'twould cure him fur sartain so Tom he 
 rubbed on a good lot of it and says he suffered the tortures of 
 martyrs all night. Thet air liniment burnt him so he hed to 
 sit up most all night and fan himself and Mis' Hawes sed slie 
 never knew before that Tom knew so many swear words. 
 Mis' Hawes went over to tell Mis' Withrow 'bout it next morn- 
 ing, so Mis' Withrow looked in the cupboard where she keejis 
 her medicines and found 'twas the carbolick acid she'd give 
 Tom. Mis' Withrow thought it wuz an awful good joke but 
 Tom sed he didn't see a blamed thing terlaff about. Turrible 
 windy weather we're a-havin'. I did a leetle extra wash Fri- 
 day, washed out some of Asa's red wool shirts and socks an' I 
 hedn't much more'n got 'em on the line when the wind tore 
 'em off and whisked 'em all over the yard. I finally found all 
 the socks but I couldn't git track of thet shirt, but Asa says he 
 knows who's a-wearin' thet red flannel undershirt of hisn and 
 if the guilty pusson doesn't bring it back soon he'll hevthe law 
 on him. 
 
 Mrs. J. Thought you were going to stay over to Mis' 
 Skinner's all this week. 
 
 Mat. I did cal'kate ter but the next mornin* after I gut 
 there I got up with a turrible cold in my head. Hed to sleep 
 with the window wide open coz it stuck and Mis' Skinner 
 couldn't git it down, noway. I kep' a-sneezin' an' a-sneezin' 
 so much I didn't hev no time to talk, and what's the use of 
 goin' visitin' if you can't talk, so I ses to Mis' Skinner, ses I, 
 " I'm a-goin' right home and cum back to finish out my visit 
 when I kin talk and not sneeze." Well, settin' here ain't 
 makin' my bread. Come over and see me, Jerushy. 
 
 [^Exit Mat. 
 
 Enter Zeke Hines. 
 
 Col. Hello, Zeke, s' posed you wuz in bed long ago. 
 
 Zeke. My mother let me sit up 'cause I wuz a good boy 
 to-day, and she give me a cent to spend and said I could come 
 down here and get a stick of candy. (^Goes to shoiv case.') 
 I'll hev a stick of thet long striped candy so's 1 kin suck it. 
 
 {Gets ca?idy, begins to stick it but makes faces as if it hurts.') 
 
 SiL. What ails yer mouth, Zeke ? 
 
 Zeke, Went out ter the woodpile t'other mornin' and saw 
 the axe all covered with white stuff, looked like sugar, so I 
 
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 53 
 
 tried to lick it off with my tongue but my tongue stuck to the 
 axe and I couldn't get it off so ma hed to pour boilin' water on 
 it. Then she licked me 'cause I didn't know it was frost. 
 Oh, it hurts some to suck. 
 
 Col. {slyly places hot soaps tone in chair). Sit down, Zeke, 
 jest as cheap as standin'. (Zeke sits on hot stone, j'ufnps up 
 yelling.) What's the matter now, Zeke ? 
 
 Zeke. Thet chair's kinder warm. Getting hold of lots of 
 hot things lately. Went into the blacksmith shop the other 
 day and saw some iron thet wuz reel purty, all bright red and I 
 thought I'd like to play with it coz it was so. purty so I grabbed 
 it when he wuzn't looking, but it wuz so hot I hed to drop it. 
 
 Mr. J. You seem to be hevin' lots of trouble, Zeke. 
 
 Zeke. Hed the toothache t'other night, too. 
 
 Mr. J. That so, did you pull the tooth out ? 
 
 Zeke. I tried ter, Seth Quimby told me to tie a long 
 string on a flatiron and t'other end to my tooth and open the 
 door and throw the flatiron fur's I could throw it and the tooth 
 would come out real easy. 
 
 SiL. Well, how'd it work .? 
 
 Zeke. It worked all right, only I tied it on the wrong 
 tooth. 
 
 Col. Speak a piece fer us, Zeke. Stand right up here on 
 this box like an orator. 
 
 {Fixes small box o?i end. Zeke tries to stand on it, falls 
 several times but finally succeeds in balancing himself. 
 Makes low bow and ridiculous gestures, speaks.) 
 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck 
 Eatin' peanuts by the peck, 
 His father called, he would not go 
 Because he liked them peanuts so well." 
 
 {Gets down from box.) 
 
 Mr. J. Now say that piece about Tommy Reed and I'll 
 give you another stick of candy. 
 
 {After several attempts, mounts box again.) 
 
 « * I'll never chew tobacco,' says little Tommy Reed, 
 * I will not chew tobacco, it is a filthy weed,' 
 Says little Tommy Reed." 
 
54 THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 
 
 (^Gr eat applause. Mr. J. gives Zeke candy.) 
 
 Zeke. I'll hev to go home or my mother' 11 lick me. 
 
 \_Exit Zeke. 
 SiL. {rising and yawning'). Wall, I reckon it's time to be 
 gittiii' to bed. 
 
 Col. 1 reckon so, too. My old woman told me to git some 
 salt so's she could churn to-morrow. 
 
 SiL. Guess I'd better hev some tobaccy. 
 
 \_Exeunt SiL. and Col. 
 Mr. J. Guess we can lock up now. Nigh onto nine o'clock. 
 
 {Locks o?ie door.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, I'm clean beat out. Hed a lot of trade this 
 evenin'. Guess 'Lizbeth, Susan and Jim Henry hev all gone 
 to bed. \Exetmt Mr. and Mrs. J. 
 
New Plays 
 
 THE BEAUTY MACHINE 
 
 A FARCE IN TWO ACTS 
 
 By T. H. Guild 
 
 Three male--^!, eiglit females and supers. Costumes fantastic; scene, a 
 single interior. Plays an hour. Very funny and entirely original. Th? 
 famous " Beauty Machine " is a source of endless fun. A decided novelty, 
 and recommended for performance by all girls in school, or in amateur 
 theatricals. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Qtteen Serena of Queylia. Gen. Ruffles {red), Commanderess- 
 
 The Dowager {blue). in-chief. 
 
 JESTERINA, the Court fooleress. {Blue Prof. MuNCH, an archaeologist, 
 and red motleij. ) Reginald Boosterbill i Ms 
 
 Blue-bell (W«0 ) ^..^^^ beauties. 
 
 BlLLiiO BUXN ) pupils. 
 
 Carnation {red) ] "««^«*<^*- Tabitha True, of Boston. 
 
 Snickers {blue), the Pageress. Guards, court ladies, and soldier girls. 
 
 THE BLUNDERING MR. BROWN 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 By Harold Hale 
 
 Four males, four females.' Costumes modern ; scene, a single interior, 
 the same for all three acts. Plays an hour and forty minutes. Very brisk 
 in action and amusing in incident. Irish comedy parts, both male and fe- 
 male. Sure to be popular. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mr. Daniel Brown, a success in Mrs. Bro^tn, a clever social success, 
 
 business, but a blunderer in matri- hut a little hard on the man of the 
 
 monxi house. 
 
 Mr. Jack Armsxroncj, a young bank CLARA BROWN, the adopted child and 
 
 clerk on a moderate salary, and mat- heiress of the Brown family. 
 
 rimoninlhi a poor business proposition. Bessie Brown, f/ie niece and ward of 
 
 Dr. HORTON, a loealthy physician and Mr. Brown. Wailing to come of age, 
 
 matrimonially a good business propo- to inherit her father's fortune. 
 
 i- It ion Maggie Murphy, a sentiviental ser- 
 
 Patrick Dolan, a sentimental police- vant and withal a clever Utile maid. 
 
 man and not good at catching burglars. 
 
 HELPING FATHER IN A BUSINESS 
 DEAL 
 
 MONOLOGUE FOR A LADY 
 
 By Agnes Electra Piatt 
 
 Scene, an interior or none at all ; costume, a street dress. Plays ten 
 minutes. Very bright and original in idea. Strongly recommended. 
 
 Price, 25 cents 
 
AUb 30' 1907 
 
 New Plays 
 
 THE PEOPLE'S MONEY 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 For Male Characters Onlj^ 
 
 Bi/ Harold Hale 
 
 Aiifhor of "'\iViTAT They Did fou Jknkixs," "A Tax ox Bachelors," 
 " The Best Max," etc. 
 
 Eleven male characters. Scenery, two easy interiors. Costumes modern. 
 Plays an liour and forty-live minutes. A very effective piece in the pf)pular 
 vein so successfully tapped in " 1'he Lion and the Mouse," dealing Avith the 
 "Frenzied Finance" idea. The conjuvin<r of modern tinanciers with (he 
 savings of the peoi)le is full of dramatic possibilities, which are here adroitly 
 employed. Not a sermon, but a good acting play, sure to thrill an audience. 
 Very clean and suited for schools. 
 
 Price, 25 cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mb. James R. Rogers, the president Mr. Bex.taimix Black, 
 
 of the First Natlonul Bank. -- -- 
 
 Mr. William Arnold, the cashier of of the bank: 
 
 the First yational Ban/:. MR. CHARLES FreDEKIOK Watsox, 
 
 Mr. Hexrv Sears, ) ,. moiKir/cri'ffheF/il'jrdilo /nsin-nvceCo. 
 
 Ml?. Alfred Edward Jones, ] Mr. Samuel Einierv, a rfr/cctire. 
 
 rectors of the bank. COXXE V DuFK V, irntch 'nan at the door 
 
 Mr. Charles Parker, (hinl assist- of the president's prleate office. 
 
 ant caxhier of t tie bank. A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 ACTI. — I\Ir. Black's Apartments. The panic. A plot. John Butts, 
 Detective. A fair exchange. Foiled. 
 
 ACT II. — The President's office at the First National Bank. The rob- 
 bery. Conney Duffy at the 'phone. Thieves fall out. " Dead ! " 
 
 "ACTIII. — The same. The run on the bank. The fight for life. A 
 crisis. Saving the day. The people's money. 
 
 THE 
 BLACK BREACH OF PROMISE CASE 
 
 A DARKY MOCK TRIAL 
 
 Bt/ J. Barnes 
 
 Author of " Looking for Trouble," etc. 
 
 -^Eight males, one female and jury. The single female character can and 
 should he played by a man. Scenery unimportant; costumes eccentric. 
 Plays half an' hour. A very brisk and laughable entertainment, sure to 
 please. Easy to get up and effective in performance. 
 
 Pnce, 15 cents 
 
THE MAGISTRATE.! ^ I^aw© in Thre« Acti. BjAsthttbYT. 
 xAx^ *T*^>.vjAij A Av^->. A j-^ j pijjKBo. Twelve male, four female char- 
 ~~^~"~~~"^~^~"~~"~"~"~^~'~' acters. Costumes, modern ; soenerr. all 
 interior. The merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the most popu- 
 lar of its author's plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the 
 principal American theatres. It is of the highest class of dramatic writine and 
 is uproariously funny, and at the same time unexceptionable in tone. Its entire 
 suitability for amateur performance has been shown by hundreds of such pro- 
 ductions from manuscript during the past three years. Plays two hours and 
 
 THE NOTORIOUS I 
 MRS. EBBSMITH. 
 
 ' Profligate "and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray 
 belong, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited 'or 
 amateur performance. It is recommended for Heading Clubs. (1895.) 
 
 A Brama in Pour Acts. By Artbitb W. 
 PiNKEO. Eight male and five female charac- 
 ters: scenery, all interiors. This is a "prob- 
 lem " play continuing the series to which " The 
 
 THE PROFLIGATE. 
 
 A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W, Putk- 
 
 RO. Seven male and five female characters 
 Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate, 
 costumes, modem. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic In 
 movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for ama- 
 teur performance. ' 
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 
 
 f AF 
 
 W. 
 
 ■* Trial 
 
 Farce In Three Acts. By AsTinTB 
 . PiNBRO. Nine male, seven fe- 
 male characters. Costumes, mod- 
 ern; scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable 
 farce was played by Miss Rosina Vokes during her last season in America with 
 great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, ito dia- 
 logue brilliant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quaint and humor- 
 ous types. The Hon. Vere Queckett and Peggy are ©specially strong. The piece 
 is in all respects suitable for amateurs, (issi.) 
 
 THE SECOND 
 MRS. TANQUERAY. 
 
 A Play in Four Acts. By Arthtb W. 
 PiNKRO. Eight male and five female char- 
 acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
 interiors. This well-known and powerful 
 play is not well suited for amateur per- 
 formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in 
 answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. 
 a894.) AJ50 in Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 I SWEET LAVENDER. 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts. 
 
 W. PiNKRO. " 
 
 characters. Scene, a single interior, the 
 costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known 
 
 By Arthttb 
 Seven male and four female 
 
 same for all three acts 
 
 and popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been 
 often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its 
 comedy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) 
 
 THE TIMES I -^ Comedy in Four Acts. By Arthttb W. Ptwbro. 2!li 
 
 j.jj.vii*j. I male and seven female characters. Scene, a single ele- 
 
 . gant interior ; costumes, modern and fashionable. An 
 
 entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. 
 
 (1892.) ' 
 
 THF VI/KATTFP Cinr f A Comedy In Three Acts. Br Arthttb 
 Xi^m. wnj y^UUS^ OXLA. I w.Pinbro. Eight male and eight 'emale 
 
 ' characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, 
 two interiors, not diflPcnlt. This rery amusing comedy was a popular feature of 
 the repertoire of Mi. . and Mrs. Kendal in this country. It presents a plot of 
 strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of "Woman's Bights" em- 
 
 floys some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many verr eloTer lines. 
 ts leading characters are unusually even in strength and prommence, which 
 makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (18M.) 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 017 401 198 9 
 
 IRIS 
 
 Drama in Five Acts 
 
 CSeven males, seven females. Costumes, 
 modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full 
 evening, 
 
 LETTY 
 
 Drama in Four Acts and an Epilogue 
 
 CTen males, five females. Costumes, mod- 
 ern; scenery complicated.Plays a full evening. 
 
 THE GAY LORD QUEX 
 
 Comedy in Four Acts 
 
 CFour males, ten females. Costumes, mod- 
 ern ; scenery, two interiors and an exterior. 
 Plays a full evening. 
 
 HIS HOUSE IN ORDER 
 
 Comedy in Four Acts 
 
 CNine males, four females. Costumes, mod- 
 ern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full even- 
 ing. 
 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 
 Comedy in Three Acts 
 CFivemales,fourfemales. Costumes modern; 
 scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 Waltn 1^* I3afeer & Company 
 
 N0.5 Hamilton Place- Boston-Massachusetts 
 
 S. J. PARKHILU A CO., PRINTERS. BOSTON. U.S.A.