\-"i,i 5 3 T h: E LAST WITNESS; A POLITICAL DRAMA. li/' ^'' And now for AUcotts'. I think I am ready to see him. Delays are dangerous (especially in politics); I'll have a clear understand- ing with him what to do and what not to do. [goes toward the house] Let me think now what to say first. The first thing will be some money — yes, there's no carrying on a campaign these days without it — the longer the jjurse the longer the torch — light pro- cession — I'll tell him first I need money. He will lend me it ; yes, why shouldn't he ? I that saved his life in the army-course he will — can't refuse (pause) after that I'll — ^yes — Ida I'll humor 11 Ida — I must get into that girls' good graces someway. We must be good friends at least and lovers, yes ! lovers of the General. I wonder now if she knows that I saved the Generals life one day in a battle. I don't believe she does. I never told her that-never. Egad I'm all too modest. Let's see now; she must find that out — yes I have it — I'll tell Barbara, no ; she won't believe it. Yes I will too for if she don't believe it she'll be sure and tell it. Yes I'll tell Barbara — that's a lucky thought ! and she will tell Ida — Ida will question the General and good ! Ida will then stand just where I want her-neutral. Egad Col., your're a plotter, born Congressman, and now General good morning. [he goes toward the house and hears Duane and Allcott discussing] D. — [outside] I say yes General and tim*» will show I am right. A. — [outside] You don't know it — ^you only hope it. Fellows. — What! Duane he here? yes; that's his voice certain. What's he after I wonder. Hark ! I hear them coming this way Lord must I run again from this place ? No I'll stay and be caught. [Exitc] [Enter Allcott from house followed4)y Duanb having letters and papers in hand.] A. — Speak easy Duane you have not got the invention as I said you have only the hope of a patent, that's all. You may fail. D. — Fail-never. I never think of such a thing. If I thought of failing I would be sure to fail. My hopes General are certain- ties. A.— You're dreaming. D. — Well General some dreams come true, why not mine? A. — "W hy Duane where's your money? Fellows has left you. You can never gain in this scheme without money-never. D. — Fellows has left me I know it I know too that Col. Fellows can never gain in his scheme without money-never. A. — He has it. D. — You are dreaming General. His money will never send him to Congress. 12 A. — Well my influence will. You doubt my power. D. — I have faith in my own. A. — Take care Duane remember where you are. D. — My position is safe. A. — What ! you'll brave me. [Ida appears at door of the house-agitated] D. — No General I will not, I am done. I go now and go to win. One word ; — here is a letter oifering to advance me $5,000 to share in the so-called dream, that letter is only one of many similar. [Letters in his hand] You doubt my power ? A. — I trust your word. D. — You see General I have not been idle of late ; I have fought the invention and to some purpose. It is now Fellows turn to fight. [turns to go.] A.— How fight? D. — For his election — he may fail. A. — Fail! what do you mean Duane? D. — Mean (pauses) to do my best to crush him ! A rushes towards Duane. Ida comes between. Tableau. Quick curtain. ACT 11. Scene 1. — A flash saloon — Bovine, Buster and companions. Bov. Well, now gentlemen, it looks like there was going to be a chance for honest men and good party workers to come to their own. For years and years that old fellow, Allcott, ran for Con- gress, and was elected, as a matter of course, but he never spent a cent with us fellows who guarded the ballot box and saw he was elected. But, now these young chappies have locked horns, and if there aint money afloat, then William Bovine of the bloody Fifth ward don't understand his business. {To Tim Buster.) So you 13 tell me Tim, that tliat Fellow Duane won't come down with the stamps. Bus. No, sir'ee ; nary stamp, confound him. He says he can get the nomination without us. Bov. Well, we will see about that. We will teach the young rooster Johnson. Wal, all I'er gob ter say is, that that there Duane is a mighty popler feller among the people, and will have a Bov. & Bus. Oh, dry up. Johnson. Wal, I'll tell you Sh-h-h-hf cheese it. {To Buster.) Did you see Col. FelloVs? Bus. I made a pintment with him. He'll be here shortly, [Erit&r Col. Fellows C. D.) F. Good evening gents, air a little cool outside. Won't you take something — inside. Come, everybody — all in. {All drink.) Bov. Well, Colonel, I am glad to see you, glad to hear you are a candidate against that duffer Duane. F. Indeed; then I can rely on you, for your assistance? Bov. Of course you can, but it takes a little money, you know, to rely with — to get the boys tuned up, as it were, so that they will make things hum right lively for you. You see, we've been canvassing, and found out that Duane has twenty-five out of the forty districts, fixed. F. You don't say so? why that gives him the nomination. How are we to overcome that sort of an advantage ? Bov. Oh, that's easy enough, Col. It will take about |2,500, but it can be done. When I say it can be done, it can be done. Let me have the funds for professional services, and you will nev- er know what becomes of them. {Leers at the boys.) Seventeen of the judges of the primaries are waiting to be bought, and there are ten more at least in the market. Some of 'em rate high — $200 at least — them's the big fellows, while some are as cheap as dirt. Five dollars will fetch 'em every time ; them's the statesmen that hasn't had a drink for a year, except when it is set up for 'em. F. {Giving him money.) Well, Mr. Bovine, there is one thousand to-night, and I will give you the rest to-morrow in time 14: for the primaries. But what assurance can you give me that I will get the delegates? Bov. Oh, the best in the world. {Pulling papers out of his pocket) Here are the credentials for 27 districts. I wfll send about twenty of my boys around to the polling places to vote for your men, and I will see that they get the credentials, no differ- ence how many votes are given the Duane delegates. F. Well, I hope you will be successful. Bov. Leave that to me. Col. — old fellow ; leave that to me. [Fointing to his crowd.) Here are the manufacturers of public sentiment — here are the patriotic citizens who nominate our can- didates, and fill our offices with honest me'n — who are not too proud to attend the primaries and do their duty. You can rely on them Col., every time — this one don't count. {They all drink. Huzzas and three cheers for our next Congressman. JSxitYiiL- LOWS.) Now, Fellows, do you hear, there's work ahead of you to-morrow, and good pay, too. I knew I would rake in a good harvest as soon as old Allcott got out of the way, and somebody else had to be nominated. Now, I will lay out your work for you. Tom, {turning to bar keeper) lock the door, shut up the shop, anci don't let anybody else in to-night. (Bovine seats himself at the table, the rest gather around hiin. Scene closes.) Scene 2. — Street. Time — night. Transparent gas lamp right. {Enter Fellows and Allcott together, followed by B. and B. discussing something in the paper — by-play.) A. Have you any more of these papers concerning Duane swindling in soldiers' pensions, Col? F. Yes, I think so. {Feels in pocket and gives him one.) A. Is this Bovine with the paper your right hand man ? F. Yes, Gen'l. A prime A 1 man — a rough and tough and ready worker. A. He looks all that and more. What is his business ? F. Oh, nothing in particular; everything in general. He talks of organizing a glee-club for the coming campaign. A. That's not so bad for him. 15 F. Oh, Bovine, how much money is wanted for that glee-club you say ? ^ Bov. Speaking to me, Col ? F. Yes, about the glee-club money. Bov. The glee-club; oh, yes. You like the idea, do you? ''Bus" here wants to be the leader, F. Yes. How much money do you think is needed ? Bov. Well, to start it would take $200 about, and to keep it up and going — well, let me#ee — 'twould take — well, its all specu- lation ; I couldn't say exactly — take about $200 more. A. That's quite a sum. Col, Bus. There will be some singing. Col, You may rely on that, eh, Bovine ? F, You know, General, if any money is left over, it could go over to the torch-light fund. Bus. (Aside.) Yes, over t^e left. A. I see, I see. Bov. Yes, or to the Convention fund. Col. There are several new little items needed on that score, such as — ice water for the speakers, and lemons and lozenges, licorice, &c., &c,, them things count up, eh, Bill? Bus. Correct, and there's the button-hole boquets, eh. Bovine? Bov. Yes, and the Chinese lanterns to be got. Bus. No, no. Bill, none of them, Chinese lanterns are teetotal- ly out of place with us, I object. Bov. Well, well, we'll put them out. Suppose we get an elec- tric light, eh,?|Dol., eh, Buster ? Bus. Good, for luck. (Aside) We'll trick 'em. (B. & B. make hy-play.) F, There's progress for you. General. A. I see, they're fast, F, They'll do us, I think, A. Well, if you think so, all right. You are running. How is it Mr. Buster is prejudiced against the Chinese ? F. Only a little so, General. A. He must, get over that Col. He must learn to pocket his ptide. 16 F. Oh yes, he'll grow out of his present state of mind, in course of time. tBov. And then again, after your election Col., of course you will need a big bonfire on the head of it, eh, Buster ? Bus. Correct, It takes money for salt barrels, F. You see. General, what confidence they have in my election ? A. I see, Colonel. Bus. And the singing-club. Col., you know they too will need some lemons, lozenges, licorice, &c.,eh, Bovine. (Aside) more rhino. Bov. That's so. Col., an absolute fact. Bus. (Aside.) No choking, eh. Bovine. Bov. (Aside.) We'll stick 'era. F. All these little items will call for money, Gen'l. A. I know it Col. Let's hear them out. F. They are all absolutely necessary, to a successful run of the political machine. Fellows (Turning to Bovine.) Well, can you think of anything else you'll need, or is that all ? Bov. Them things are all we'll need for a while, eh. Buster. Bus. Tes, them are the principle ones. (B. and B. go to left.) A. Well, Col., I'll not haggle about a little more money, but you know you are in for quite a sum now. F. I know it. General, but time makes all things even. A- I'll send you a check down by Jackson next week. Will that do ? F. Next week. All right, send by Jackson, in a letter. A. So, so ; its growing late, (looks at ivatch.) I must be off"; anything more to say ? F. No, nothing ; only its rather dangerous traveliflg around these dark streets. Have you anything with you ? A. No, I'll risk it. (Turns to go L.) ^.^ F. (Shoios a pistol.) Here's a present of Duane's A. No, keep it Col., you may want to use it yourself. Du- ane's, eh ? F. Yes, take it, I can borrow another. (Offers it.) A. No, no ; good night. Col. Good night, gentlemen. B. & B, Good night to you. General. F. Good night. (A. exit L) c 17 Bov. Well, Col., he's off. When shall we thi-ee treat agaiu ? Bus. Yes, and where ? Who's do is it ? F. Oh, see here. What about that split to be in the Convlu- tion next week — hear of it? You must watch that, Bovine, they might flank us. Bov. Never fear, Col., never fear. We can wax that split with $200— only. F. You know that, do you ? Bov. We know the ropes, eh, " B." B. We do. [Aside.) We'll feel them some day. F. Well, you'll want that money Bov. To-morrow, eh Buster. B. Yes. F. True, to-morrow I'll see you fixed. But come, let us go somewhere — not be hanging 'round here all night — what say ? I feel like setting down. Bus. I feel like setting up, eh Bovine. Bov. That's my fix. {Takes Fellow's arm.) F. Well, come, jog along some where, I'll set it up. Bus. Yours, Col., one more. {Takes his arm.) » F. Come on, yes, one more. Bus. Yes, one of many. {Going out ; aside:) ^ Two black crows "set" on a tree; Their " bills" were sharp as sharp could be. (BusTEE, playing with fingers around moustache; Bovine playing with handkerchief around his.) {Exit B.) Scene 3. — The Convention — a promiscuous assemblage, half dressed as gentlemen, half as loafers. Bovine, in swell dress, flash jewelry. Voices, confusion, dfo., <^e. Bus. I motion that this here convention does come to order by appointing the Honorable Mr. Bovine, of the Fifth ward, as cheer- man. {A voice.) I secont the move. Parsons. I move that Mr. John Mason, our well-known fellow citizen, and the representative of our great manufacturing inter- im ests, be chosen to preside over the deliberations of this conven- tion. (A voice.) I second the motion. Bus. I move the nominations do close, and all who is in favor of the election of Mr. Bovine will say " aye." {From the roughs.) "Ayes." Bus. Mr. Bovine is elected, gentlemen. (Ones of) why don't you put the negative ? Why don't you put the name of Mr. Mason ? Bus. Why, wat's the use ? Haven't we elected a cheerman ? Mr. Bovine will take his seat, and I appoint Thomas McFlannery, Peter Goblestein and Samuel Barlow to conduct him to the cheer. ( The committee, three men, proceed and execute their ntis' sion.) Par. Gentlemen, these proceedings are irregular; two-thirds of the delegates are in favor of Mr, Mason for chairman, and they have not expressed their choice. I protest against these proceed- ings, and call for — Bus. Order ! order ! I call the gentlemen to order. Par. You are out of order, sir ; and, not being a delegate to this convention, have no right to interrupt its proceedings. Bus. What ! me not a delegate ? Its you that ain't a dele- gate. Set down or I'll knock you down. Par. I do not regard your threats, but I intend to have — ( Voices of a dozen roughs.) Put him out. Bounce him. Mash him. Throw him out of the window, &c., &c. (Parsons is seized and forced into a seat.) • Bov. (From the chair, pidls out a manuscript and reads): Gentlemen of the Convention : I am wholly unable to express my sentiments on this occasion, so great is my surprise at being cho- sen to the position you have assigned me. When I entered this room, a few minutes ago, I had not the least idea your choice would fall on me. I would have preferred the election of my distin- guished friend, Mr. Mason, but in obedience to the clearly ex- pressed will of the majority, I accept the honor. (Cheers.) This convention has a great duty to perform, and representing, as it does, the will and wishes of the people, it should carry them out without fear or favor. When I look around me and see the honest 19 faces that are here assembled to put in nomination our next Con- gressman, I am more than ever convinced that the country is safe. Look at your mottoes : " Reform is our watchword," " Honest men to the front," " No Ring rule," "No political tricksters for office." These, gentlemen, are noble sentiments. We, gentlemen, are the representatives of the people, and it is our duty to execute the people's will. I trust that we shall have harmony. We are now ready to proceed to business, and the first thing in order is the election of a vice president. Bus. I motion that Mr. John Mason be elected Vice Presi- dent. Voice. I second the move. Bov. Gentlemen, you have made the motion. All in favor of the election of Mr. Mason will say " aye." All. Aye. Bov. Mr. Mason is elected, and will come forward. The next thins: in order is the election of three secretaries. A Rough. I nominate Mr. Buster and Mr. Johnson. Voice. I second the motion. Par. I nominate Mr. Warren, as one secretary. Voice. I second the motion. A Delegate. Mr. President, neither Buster nor Johnson are delegates, I represent the district in which Johnson lives. Cries. " Dry up," '*put him out," "no shenanigan," "question, question," &c., &c. Bov. Gentleman, you have all heard the question. We must have no confusion here. All in favor of Messrs. Buster, Johnson, and Warren for secretaries, will say " aye." A dozen voices. "Aye." Twenty-five voices. " No." Bov. The ayes have it, and the gentlemen are elected. A Rough. I move that the roll be called by districts. Bov. {Handing a list to Buster.) Mr. Buster, call the roll Bus. {Calling the roll.) 1st district, Peter Jones ; 2d dis- t rict, John Mulligan. Rough. I contest his seat. Bus. 3d district, Wm. Anderson. Rough. I contest his seat. * ^; •Jf ^ ^ * * ^ * 20 (Confusion ensues, stamping of feet, hooting and yelling, (|-c., ^c.) Bus. Mr. Cheerman, I motion that a committee of five, on contested seats, be appointed to report forthwith. Bov. Gents, you have heard the motion ; all in favor of this signify consent by saying " aye." Voices. "Aye." Bov. The chair appoints Mr. Buster, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Goblestein, Mr. "Warren and Mr. Parsons. (The committee go out, and almost immediately return, and Me. Buster hands a paper to the chairman) Bov. Gentlemen of the convention : The committee on con- tested seats, by a vote of 3 to 2, have decided that the roll being called by the chief secretary, before the late interruption, con- tains the names of the legally elected delegates to this conven- tion. Par. Mr. Chairman. I move to lay the report on the table. The men here reported as delegates were never voted for, and their credentials are false and fraudulent, and some of them were man- ufactured on the secretary's table. Voices. " Put him out," " throw him out of the window," "bounce him," &c., &c. Bov. Mr. Parsons, such language is unbecoming in this con- vention, and you must restrain yourself. The chair cannot toler- ate it. These delegates are honorable men, and a credit to the society in which they live. Bus. Now you are talking, Mr. President, and those there roosters with swaller-tail coats haven't any business here. What have they ever done for the party ? Nothing — absolutely nothing, and yet they come here and abuse the real workers. Roughs. "Bravo," " down with the s waller-tails." Bov. Order, gentlemen, order ! Let us do things decently and in order. The chair will now entertain the nomination of candidates. Bus. I nominate Col. Jerome Fellows, the true friend of the workingman, and the champion of reform. Voice. I second the nomination. Par. I nominate Mr. Elliott Duahe, the man who scorns to buy an honor which his merits do not entitle him to, and who is 21 too respectable to fill a convention with roughs and strikers, to steal what he cannot obtain honestly. {Groans, hisses, cries and raps of the chairman s gavel.) Bov. Mr. Parsons, I shall have you ejected from the convention if you indulge in any more personalities. Par. Oh ! I'll go out anyhow. There is no use in staying where the whole thing is cut and dried. {He is about to leave, but his friends restrain him.) Bov. As there are no further nominations, the chief secretary will proceed to call the roll. Bus. {Calling the roll.) 1st district, {answer,) Col. Fellows; 2d district, {answer,} Col. Fellows ; 3d district, (answer,) Elliott Duane ; 4th district, {answer,) Elliott Duane ; &c., &c., * * * Bov. Mr. Secretary, announce the vote. Bus. Fellows 25; Duane 15. Par. That is not the true count. The vote stands, Duane 21 ; Fellows 19. Voices. That's so; that's the true count, &c., &c. Johnson. Mr. President, Mr. Buster is right. Our tallies agree ; — Fellows, 25 ; Duane, 15. Roughs. Of course that's the vote, &c., &c. Bov. Col. Fellows having received a majority of all the votes, is declared the nominee of this convention. Mason. But he has not received a majority. Eoughs. Put him out! — mash him! — bounce him! Delegate. The nomination of this convention is Mr. Duane. He has been fairly nominated; in spite of fraud and bribery and^ — {Confusion ensues ; howls, cries, shouts and hisses ; shut, off the speaker.) Bov. {Loud.) It having been moved and seconded that the nomination of Colonel Fellows be made unanimous, all in favor of the same say aye. , {Cries.) Aye, aye; no, no, &c., &c. {A fight starts; roughs attach respectable citizens. Scene doses in the midst of the row. 2:2 Scene 4. — Street, Duane's Law Oftce, sign, <^e. Several ladies enter office. The Phonograph gives a Musical Soiree behind the scenes. Songs/' Echo'' The Phonograph, ""Oh, Cuckoo," " Pop Cor?i," ^G. Love Song hy the Phonograph, {in a husky voice,) air, " Clicquot, Clicquot." Pop corn, pop corn, That's the stuff to make you jolly, Pop corn, pop corn, That's the stuft' to make you jolly, Pop corn, pop corn — Try it — buy it for your Polly, Cupid, Cupid cracks the corn. The songs concluded, Warren and Ladies enter. Warren. Well ladies, I hope you are well pleased with this truly scientific entertainment? Barbara. Oh, it was charming, Mr. Warren -f|-good as the matinee. ^> Ladies. Oh, better, much better. War. You will call again. Miss Barbara — all of you ? Ladies. Oh yes, good day. {Oat on left.) War. Your most obedient, ladies, every Saturday, betweea 2 and 4 P. M. Good day, good day, good day. (Pawse.) I'll make "pop- osals" to that girl Barbara, one of these days. {Exit into office.) {Scene opens, and disclosesW aurei^ inside of office at desk writing. Phonograph on the table.) War. Most everybody says that this election is the most im- portant election that has ever occured, or ever will occur in the history of the country. Well, I have heard that saying so often, I almost believe it. It keeps me pretty busy, however — nothing but writing, writing, writing, day in and day out, for the last two months. I wish it was over. I believe election business makes more business than all other business put together. It seems, the more I do the more there is to do ; the more work goes out, the more work comes in. {Enter Jackson, stopping at door C.) War. {Turning round.) Well, sir — morning. Jackson. Good morning. Mr. Duane's office ? War. Yes. What you want with him ? 23 J. He wants me, sir. Miss Allcott says so. She sent me to 'wait till' I see him. War. See Kim. What about ? J. Why here I is, to see what about. That's all I know about it, Mister. War. Your name's Jackson, is it not ? J. Jackson ; sure case. War. Well, Jackson, come in and take a civil wait. He will be in soon. Sit down. (Aside.) It strikes me I heard this Jack- son talking up Fellows at a mass-meeting, the other night on the hill. Yes, I am pretty sure I did. I'll fix him now so he will not be able to talk politics for a month. ( W. goes to phonograph and puts in a neio foil — by play.) (Aside.) There, I think that's about right. Now, if he turns that handle when I go out, that tune will turn his head, I know. (Aloud.) I am going now to the postoffice, and wait. (W. takes a slate and lorites, and reads following : "will he hack in 10 minutes," places slate on desk, ^'C, puts hat on, starts to go, and turns hack.) Oh ! Jackson, see here ! there's a little piece of mechanism on the table yonder called the phonograph, I want to tell you about it before I go. J. Oh, yes, sir. I heard tell about it at Allcott's. You talk to it; it talks to you. You turn the handle so, so. (Makes mo- tions.) War. Oh, you heard tell about it, did you 7 You turn the handle so, so. Well, Jackson, let me tell you one thing more about it. Don't you, Jackson, turn the handle so, so ; or I will so, so, Jackson. (Shakes his fist at J.) Understand? J. Yes. I understand. ■ War. You talk to that instrument, and that instrument will talk to you. (Shakes fist.) You understand ? J. I do, sir. I do understand. War. Now mind ; I can tell when I come back, and if I find that you have meddled with that phonograph in any way, form or manner, I'll put a pinnacle on your head like a church steeple. You hear ? (Exit Waeren, C. D.) J. What, a pinnacle, eh ? on my head. [Pa^ise.] Now it's my opinion that he couldn't put a pinnacle on my head at all, in any way, form, or mafitier — evefi if he is ahead clerk. Nov/, he *may 24 beat me at writing; but when it comes to pinnacles, I'm there, and I flourish a tolerably fast business hand. [Shakes fist.] Gone, is he? Now, let me see — what'U I do? I must square-off with him somehow. " Pinnacle" I can't stand, and won't stand ; no, sir; I'll not put up with such cross talk as that from any gentleman whatever — professional or linprofessional. Why, it's a down right breach of impudence, nothing less. I know what I'll do; I'll blow up his old hyfalutin piece of mechanism. [He goes to phonograph on table and sees tickets, ^c] What's here ! tickets ? Yes, election tick- ets ; election tickets ! 0, ho ! I smell a rat lying round here. [Examines tickets closely. \ There's a ticket marked. [Pause.] Those ain't sound tickets — frauds, counterfeits, every one of them. [Looks at phonopraph.] A phonograph, eh ? Yes, I understand, an election phonograph. Exactly ! foi- printing tickets, double- headers. I see. I won't touch it, Mr. Head Clerk; oh, no; I won't take some to Col. Fellows; I won't sell many; I won't raise the wind ; oh, no ! Let's see, anybody coming [goes to door C] Not a soul. Phonograph tickets, eh ? [Takes off his coat.] Head like a church -steeple, eh ? [Takes off his hat.] Phonograph ! oh, yess^ 'I tell you what's what, Mr. Head Clerk, I'll get ahead of you this time, I will. [Spitting on hands.] I'll wind up your business, handsome, I will. I'll turn you out of office, I will. [He turns the phonograph and it yells out, "go away or Til knock you down."] Oh, I'll go. [Sxit JacksoN at C, leaving hat and coat.] [Warren enters.] War. What; that darkey off? Trap sprung, eh? Good. [Looking at phonograph.] 1 thought so. I knew I would catch him. If I had told him to turn that phonograph he wouldn't have done it. Some of his trumpery. [Kicks the coat and lat- ter falls out.] A letter, eh? to Col. Fellows ; marked "haste." By Jove ! there's something worth something, I know. Haste, eh. An election letter, no doubt ; some secrets in that, and money too, perhaps. I'll open, see ; no, I won't ; no, no, not I. No, War- ren will not open anybody's letters — not even an enemy's. No, Warren is too poor to do such dirty work as that — too poor. I'll place it back again. [Puts it in coat.] That darkey, I know, will tell the Colonel about his letter, and he'll be here after it, sure. I D ^5 don't want that Colonel down on me, no way. He's got a bad eye in him — a bad eye. [Knocking heard at door C] There he is now , talk of the Old Fellow, and he is sure to appear. I'll pre- tend I am writing. [More knocking at door. Goes to desk, dfc] " Knock and it shall (not) be opened unto you." [More knocking.] Go away, or 111 knock you down. [Ida enters.] Ida. Good morning, Mr. Warren. War. Miss Allcott, good morning. [Offers a chair.] Ida. No, I can't wait, Warren. Where is Mr. Duane ? you know ? I wish to see him right away, if possible. War. Well, I'm not sure, but I think he is on a case at coutt to-day. I will find out in five minutes, if you wait that time. Ida. I'll wait. Tell him to come, 'tis urgent business, if you see him. War. I'll do my best, [Mit, C] Ida. 'Tis slander, I believe, and yet my heart must hear him say 'tis false. I'll see him now, and question him. I must and will be satisfied. What! his name a by- word in the public press, and he silent ! Why, that of- itself is a fault. He should deny this charge. The world now whispers both our names in one; what touches him, that touches me. He must deny it — he shall! [Paces the room up and down.] If this were Fellows' case there'd be a duel. [Duane enters, prepared for traveling. Valise, overcoat, (Sfc] D. What, Ida ! and alone ? Why, what brought you here ? Where is Warren ? Ida. I sent Warren to seek you. You've missed him ? D. Yes, I've missed him. I'm sorry now, I want to see him before 1 go. You know I'm ofi" for Washington by next train. But what brought you here ; you look troubled. Come, now, no secrets. [Sits down.] Ida. No secrets, with all my heart, Elliott — read ! [She hands him a newspaper and reads aloud] : " A rumor is current that a charge is preferred in the Courts of Washington, D. C, against E. Duane, Esq., Attorney at Law, by reason of some irregularity in soldiers' pensions, during the year 1868." 26 D. Oh, I have read that before. That's nothing at all. Ida. 'Tis news to me. D. Nothing in it. All false, Ida. A trick that ; "a weak in- vention of the enemy." Ida. You say that, Elliott ? D. I say that, yes. Now you didn't come here to see me about that, did you? You must have heard I was going off, ■ and Ida. No, Elliott. I came to hear you say that item all was false. And you will write now and publish your denial ? D. Publish ! Oh, dear, no. That's what the enemy wants, and you know, in politics, we never do what the enemy wants us to do — never. Ida. You will not write and answer it ? D. Not! Ida. You will for me ; will you not ? D. Ida! [Pause.] Ida. [Hisiiig.] The world will judge your silence your con- fession. Come, Elliott, I will write it for you. [Takes pen and paper.] D. Leave it to me, Ida ; leave it to me. I'll think about it. Ida. No, Elliott, I cannot wait. I cannot bear to hear my name and yours coupled thus. What slanders you, that slanders me. You say 'tis false, a libel; write it. One word from you, it dies. Elliott, Elliott, you must deny it ! D. [Bising.] Must, Ida? Must? [Wab.'ri^'S enters '^C," falters, then goes to coat of Jaclfson, takes letter from it, and hands it to Fellows, appearing at door C] Ida. Forgive me ! [She sinks in a chair and burys face in her hands.] D. Answer that ? not one word ! [He tears up the paper.] Tableau — [Slow curtain.] . 27 ACT III. Scene I. — A.llcott's Parlor. Table, chairs and fixings. All- COTT discovered alone. A. {Folding up a newpaper.) So, so — there's another shot at Duane about swindling in soldiers' pensions — the fight goes hotly on. They tell me that Duane, in spite of all opposition, is hope- ful of his election, and Fellows is the same, confident of his. And I, well I — I'm sure of neither. I wish I could tl;iink myself into one way or the other about it, I'd know how to act. {He rises and paces the room.) Confound it, I can't be forever and forever lending Fellows money. I wonder where it all goes. There is no end to his demands. Why, I'm all but broke. I'll be borrow- ing myself from some one to lend him the next thing, and who of ? Yes, that's the question, who of? Barbara? no; she would rather lend to help Duane than Fellows ; I know Barbara. I'll write to Fellows and lecture him a little. Think of it, last week $500 ; this week $600, and next week — what next? oh, I must shut down on this — -I must — {Snter Jackson, with card on salver. A. seizes it.) What's this ? from Fellows again ! Duane, what ? Yes, Duane- — {reads): " Good news ; let me see you alone ; I'm a made man ; money soon. Duane." And has that man got the audacity to come to my house and ask an interview with me ? yes ; there's his card. What'U I do ? See him {pause), or tear it up and send it back ? Show him up. {JSxit Jackson, "C") I think I see his game; he means to bluff me. {Throws card on table.) (Duane enters, "C") Duane. .General Allcott,' good morning. Allcott. Good morning. "" You honor this house, sir — D. I hope. General, to reflect honor on this house some day in the near future. A. You hope so, do you ? Your conscience is entirely too strong ; it hopes too much. D. " Hope on, hope ever," General. " We know what we are, we cannot tell what we may be."^ A. 'Tis easy telling your future in politics, the way things look at present. D. Politics with me, General, is a side-issue. I come to speak of the invention. A. Your invention, sir, is a side-issue with me. It has passed at Washington, I suppose. D. It has. A. And you are a made man, you say ? D. I have papers that say it, General. {Goes to a okair and takes letter jTom pocket.) ,, , , . ,, A. You need not sit. You came to tell me this? D. I came to tell you, and — (pause). A. Yes, and Ida ! I see and know your thought. You think to gain her hand by this good news ; you are dreaming yet. No, no, Duane, 'twill never be. A congressman's wife ; I've sworn it — ^that or nothing ! D. I still can hope to make her that. A. That you will never be. D. 'Tis not decided. A. Yes, Duane, it is decided (loud) read! (A. hands him newspaper, and D. reads aloud, viz. : "S.windling soldiers — pen- sions — July, 1868, — Washington, D. 0."—) .That, sir, ends your rivalry. D. But, General — A. I'll hear no more. Dare you, Duane, come to me now, when all these reports are rife against you. Now, when your character is the table-talk of all the town, dare you come to me and ask my daughter's hand ? D. No, General ; let me answer. A. No more, Gol Answer that. • {Throws newspaper at Duane 's feet. Exit at E 2 E., calling for Jackson.) (Duane turns to go., ayid meets Ida at door "C," who has been out shopping.) Ida. {Taking off shawl, <^c.) What! Elliott! You here? What has happened? 29 D.' Nothing. A stormy interview about that article in the papers, that's all. Ida. I thought as much. What said he ? D. Oh, nothing much. He dismissed me. Ida. You still think that article nothing, do you ? D. I think nothing of it ; don't affect me in the least (pause.) You see, I have so much character I can lose some and never miss it. Let us change the subject. Did Barbara receive my letter yesterday ? Ida. About the invention, yes. Why? any thing more about it ? D. No ; only I find now that I will need some money to place it in the market, and Ida. Oh, bother that ! Why, Barbara herself would lend you money on it now. Yes, anybody. Oh, you didn't ask father for any? D.. Trust me for that. Ida. I do wish you were reconciled to him. By the way, a thought strikes me. To-morrow is the day of the election ? ■ D. To-morrow is the day. Ida. And you have a model phonograph at your office?. So Jackson tells me. D. Yes. Who told him ? Ida. No matter. Suppose, now, we arrange matters to have it deliver the election news, in this very room, to-morrow evening. What say ? Surprise somebody. D. Why, a good I-dea ! (Catches her.) Ida. You are confident of your election, Elliott ? D. Oh, very confident of my election, very. (Places arm around her.) Ida. Your heart says so ? sii a x'^Jii^ij.. , D. Yes, my heart says so ; what says yours ? ' Ida. Oh, it says so-so ; amen ; be it so, and so forth. D. That's enough for me, and so — -I go. (Tarns.) Ida. Yes. I dismiss you. Don't forget the phonograph. I'll send Jackson to your office. D. Oh, I'll bring it myself. ': Ida. Oh, dear, no ! that would never do. Yoti ttiusn't appear 30 at all. You inust be away off, out of, town, absent, non est inven- tus, off electioneering somewhere. See ? D. P, ho ! I see. I'm out electioneering, and know nothing at all about it. I see ! (Pause.) And I don't come in till — Ida. I send for you. D. Good— Ida. Bye. {Throws him a kiss.) (DuANE exit', door C. Ida exit, R. 2 E.) Scene 2. — Street. Duane's office, {outside) sign, ^c. Warren and Jackson come out. J. with a box. War. Now you take good care of that, or you will catch thun- der—you hear ? {Loud.) Jack. Yes, I do hear. {Exit L. Warren looks the door.\ , War. Well, there will be no law done here this day. I'm go- img to the polls to see justice done. My office to-day is there. Let me think, where shall I go first — what ward ? Oh, yes, I'll first go and vote myself, and then, and then, {looking after J.) and then I'll make for the hill, and place a man there to watch this darky Jackson ; I have some doubts of his moral soundness, — of course if he is honest he can stand watching. After that I'll manoeuvre some men in the 1st ward around this Bovine and Buster, Fellows' working men — I got that much out of Jackson this morning. {Turns R. Noise, voices outside L.) Halloa, eh, what? why here come the early birds. Wide awake Warren. {He 'pulls out a paper and reads. Enter Simpson a Railroader^ red lamp, pear at door " C,"] 46 Scene 2. — Allcott's. The hallway. A thunder storm raging ouside. [Barbara enters "i?."] Barbara. Poor girl ; she has not slept, I do believe, for weeks. It seems, the nearer comes the day of trial, the worse and worse she grows. I am very, very much afraid she cannot grow much worse — cannot stand it much longer. 'Tis sleep soon, or death. [fiViier Jackson "i-."] Jackson. Here I am. Miss Barbara. B. Oh, Jackson; that you? I was just wishing you would come. Did you get the medicine ? J. Medicine — here it is, Miss Barbara, [hands it.] Doctor says 10 drops every hour, and B. Yes, yes ; I see. Now, Jackson, I want to ask you some- thing about this trial coming on at Court to-morrow. Of course, you'll be sworn. Have you thought about what you are going to swear ? J. Yes, Miss Barbara ; I'm thinking, and thinking iil the time about it. You know, I must swear the truth. B. You say Duane was angry that evening — election evening ? J. Very angry, Miss Barbara, very angry. B. And he left you saying he was going to Allcott's ? J. No, I heard him say it to himself — he swore it. Miss Barbara. ^ B. You heard him talking something, too, of money? J. Money — yes, he swore he would have it. That's the truth. Miss Barbara. [A thunder claj).] B. [Pause.] But, Jackson, you wouldn't swear away Duane's life, would you ? You wouldn't kill Ida, would you ; think, now? J. I think I must swear the truth. Miss Barbara ; swear the truth, if the heavens fall ! I must B. Yes, yes, Jackson; I know, I know. But you'll not tell them, unless they ask you about that part, will you ? J. [Pause.] Well — no. B. Now, Jackson, another question — you say you saw Colonel Fellows that same evening. Now think. Did you see him do any writing then ? think now. Oh, dear me, I'm forgetting all about this medicine. [Exit "M."] 47 J. [^Following Aer.] Yes, yes, Miss Barbara — I saw him writ- inp', certain — sure. Scene 3. — lioom in Allcott's. Time, night. A table, upon it lamp burning, also the Phonograph. A thunder storm raging out- side. [Ida enters. Not in full dress, hair down, ^c] Ida. Sleep I cannot, night after night I lay me down, but all in vain, no sleep, no sleep, 'tis gone ! gone ! gone forever, forever fled ! [She sinks in a chair.) To-morrow comes his trial, comes mine. Escape is none; face him I must and swear, swear what? Oh ! cursed memory ! Swear that upon that fatal night I saw him standing here, [looks around the '>'oo7n]'heside my murdered,- no, no^ not that, not that, I saw not that, no, no, not Duane, no, 'twas a dream, a dream, nothing but a dream [pause.] Again and again has Fellows said and sworn it was reality ; again and again my con- science bids me doubt, [Pause.] I was here, yes, I remember, m y father I saw, yes certain, and by him, by him standing some one, who? let me think, Duane? No, I don't believe I saw him. How could I see, see all? No, I don't believe I saw him. Yet, stay ! I did see him that night, certain. [She rises.] Where? let me think, let me think where. [Sits dow7i.] 1 saw him ; what said he ? No, I went to see him ; yes, with Jackson was it ? Yes, yes, and I saw him ; no I saw Fellows and went with Fellows, yes, yes — keep still my heart — and saw Duane, no, yes, yes yes, Duane standing beside my murdered father ! yes Duane, Duane, Duane ! [Pause.] I have said it, and now — God, and must I swear it? [risesY must I? Oh, bitter thought to swear to that which proves his guilt, when heart and soul believe him innocent ! {Pause, sits down.) But I'll swear it, yes I'll swear it. I must, 'tis truth, my father's blood has spoken ! [Rising, striking her breast, one, tico, tliree times.] I'll swear it, then, what then? He dies, truth lives. No no, truth dies with him. Duane is truth, all truth, all, all, all truth ! What, he guilty ? [Paces the room up and doiuii, stopp)ing) I would marry him, yes, standing at the foot of the gallows ! {Paces the room.) 'Tis killing me, I'll think no more, the more I think, the more. I doubt, 48' I'll sleep now, {takes the vial) sleep, forget it all, be free ! yes, a long, long sleep ! {reading) "10 drops," ten, only ten ? I'll take more, all ; I must sleep, must or die. Die ? suppose I should, well, sup- pose; yes, what then? {pause) well, an accident, {pause) yes, they'll say it was an accident, an accident, yes, an accident. [Thunder. 1 {The vial lifted to her lijjs she drops as a flash of lightning puts out the lamp). Lights down.) Death ! does Heaven speak ? My very brain seems fire ! \_Pause.'\ This thought will madden, kill me. [Screams.'] Oh ! that vial, I must sleep, that vial, that vial ! {Gropes around the room.) Sleep, sleep ! Come, come, come to me ; come to me, come to me, come to me. {She touches table, lamp, &c., and the phonograph, tvhich speaJcs in her father^ s voice "Hear me!" She falls on her knees, clasping hands as if to pray, exclaims " Father I" faints away prostrate on the floor.) Scene 4, Court House. The ante-room — douhle-doors and side- doors. Bovine a7id Buster saunter in, and go into Court at side-door.] [Warren enters — sees them.] "Warren. What the deuce are they up to round here ? No good, I'll be bound. They're tipsy, too; both of them. I'll watch them. [Exit in Court] [Enter Bovine and Colleague /ro??i Court] Colleague. You wish to see me, sir; my name is Colleague ? Bovine. I do, I understood that you, sir, will manipulate the wheel of Fortune for the Jury box in the coming trial; am I right ? C. Yes, I preside over that work. What of it? Be brief, please; time is money. ^ B. Just so; well, briefly Mr. CoUegue, I was sent to inquire if a certain name* well-known to you, individually, could in that wheel be packed with the collected "ins," and by some by-law picked with the collected "outs." {Pause.) Do you take ? C. I see. Has the name been called lately ? B. Yes, very— s'ogae two years ago» G 49 C. Two years ago, indeed! time for some change, eli? B. Yes, I should say so. Can you make it ? G. I can, sir, issue a change. B. Sure ? No difficulty — no drawback about it ? 0. No difficulty in the case whatever, provided B. Provided — {goes doion into Ms pockets?) C. Provided, some petty incoAie is collected wherewith to make the change an absolute draw. (Pause.) Do you take ? B. Praw is the word. (Draws his pocket book.) C. Just so; of course, Mr. Bovine, there is no bargaining about this little turn I do for you; B. Oh, no. 0. For, as a matter of principle, I believe in rotation in office anyway. B. (Aside.) Oh, yes; and notation any way. (Gives him mon- ey — one V. Aloud and smiling at "C") No doubt about this af- fair now, eh ? ' .0. "What ! this ? (Looking at money.) B. No, no; the draw — the draw ! C. Oh, the draw. Mum, "Silence in the court." B. "Oyez, oyez, oyez." Well, here you are my worthy Col- league. (Counting more money.) There is one, two, three — three Vs. Eight ? C. Eight. B. (Aside.) Veni, vidi, vici ! C. (Aside.) Just so, just so, just so. B. (Wiping his mouth.) Well, my dear Colleague, where shall we go now ? C. Oh ! I'll take you in. (Both in to Coicrt — side door. Bo- Ymi: picking hispiocketas they jostle through the door.) [Dawson enters, "L."] Dawson. (Looking at ioatch) Well here I am, in good time for the trial, I guess. Yes, 10 o'clock; that's churclj time — :a little . fast. [BusTEE ' enters from Court, exit fast, "i?."] Halloa. That man's after something,, or something's- after him — certain. [Warren enters from Court, turns and sees D.] War. Good morning, Doctor. On hand, I see. Daw. What, Warren! that you? {They shake hands ) Well, how do things look— any brighter? War. No, Doctor, worse if anything. Daw. WfU, I BUpnose we'll know the very worst to-day — think ? War. Yes. The prosscution ends this morning, and the de- fence is short, very short. I was going to say weak ; but it is not weak. Daw. You mean Daane's character. War. Yes. That's our only hope to save him now. Daw. Character will only help to save him. We must besides raise some doubt, about this evidence against him. There is too much of it ; and we must throw suspicion somewhere else from that very fact. War. Yes, but how ? Where begin ? Daw. At the beginning. This pistol, found near Allcott, with Duane's initials; the check for money in Duane's handwriting; even the paper on which it was written Duane's — the same as used in his office — all these things prove too much. In fact, the more I see and hear of the case the more I am convinced it is all a plot — and a plot with too much plotting in it. 'Tis overdone. You heard Fellows' statement yesterday? War. Yes, and watched the jury, and read their very thought — conviction. I know and feel 'lis all a plot myself, but how prove it to them ? Daw. Patience ! Warren. Truth is mighty. War. Doctor, a jury's opinion is sometimes mightier; convic- tion seems certain. Daw. No, no, Y/arren ; opinions change. Conviction yester- day is not certain to-day. No, no; new days, new thoughts. Truth is mighty to prove itself — it will out in time, confirm our faith and fix his innocence. I believe it. War, I wish I could. Daw. My hope is in Fellows, partly. He is rash ; eager for 51 conviction ; cannot conceal it. He will try to prove too much — say too much, and prove nothing. "War. His statement yesterday was strong. Daw. Yes; stronger than the truth. Some of it contained judgments, not evidence. That must be pointed out to the jury; 'twill set their doubts a thinking. War. I see. I'll ^vork that point in with some others. Daw. Fellows is far too perfect in his knowledge — knows too much. But let us in to court. Have you seen any of the Allcott's this morning ? {Tunis to go) War. Holloa ! Who is this a-rushing this way? Jackson, is it not, of Allcott's ? [Jackson eni!ers lively, "i^."] Jackson. You are Mr. Warren? War. My name; yes. What's wanted? Jack. A letter from — {Handing it.) ■ War. Who— Colonel Fellows? Jack. No, sir. No, sir; no, sir; from Miss AUcott. Post haste. Good morning, Doctor. Daw. Good morning, Jackson. Well, Warren ? Jack. Now for the lawyer. {Shows another letter. Exit into court.) Daw. Well, Warren ; all's well ? War. {Heads) " Come, see me — quick ! Lose not a moment ! Duane — his life or death ! Ida." Daw. There's hope at last — you see ? War. Yes. Life and hope in every word. Come ; will you go? Daw. {Taking his hand) Come. {Exit both, "H.") [Scene opens on the trial in Court-room.] Lawyer. May it please the Court and Gentlemen of the Jury : The circumstantial evidence here produced against Elliott Duane is unhappily of such a character as to carry with it the strongest conviction of his guilt, and yet he is innocent of this foul murder, as innocent as the child unborn. But, either through some pro- found mischance, some malapropos coincidence, or by some subtle and devilish ingenuity, and the latter I strongly suspect, it seems 52 , almost impossible for us to break the toils that have surrounded him and threaten to commit a fouler murder than the first. A murder in the name of law and justice. [Ida enters "C."] At best, we can but offer evidence of his unblemished character, and appeal to your sense of discriminating mercy and justice, for its vindication; leaving to the revealing touch of time, that brings every secret to light, the detection of the actual criminal. Ida. {Advancing.) Nay, let us appeal to the living and the eternal truth in the present, and not remit to the future the fear- ful things that should be dragged into the sun-light of to-day. Judge. Unhappy girl ! Your bereavement has impaired your reason. The truth has been revealed too plainly already, and he whom you have trusted is unworthy your confidence. Your father's murderer is before you. {Points to D.) Ida. May I speak ? Jud. While such proceedings are irregular, we will permit you to divert your grief for a moment. Ida. TVTy father's murderer is before me. Oh, judge most truly, but opinion, like the lying hands upon a false and tampered dial points in the wrong direction. The lifted hand of horror casts its unhallowed shadow upon the innocent, while the sun-light of public confidence falls around the guilty in very mockery of Heaven's justice and everlasting truth. The prisoner at the bar, for whom the bloody gibbet beckons, is wholly innocent, while the doubly guilty stands unabashed and ravenous for more blood within the sacred precincts of this august tribunal. Jud. Poor girl, you rave. Ida. Hear me, but a moment, and then let Heaven and earth j.udge betwixt the innocent and the guilty; judge whether my unhappy reason is beclouded, or whether justice shoots wide of the mark, even when the human archer is blind. God performs his wonders through means we little reck or dream of. Not alone in the great book of the recording angel was the truth entered when a dastard's hand struck down my father's life ; an earthly angel, the handi-work of man, an idle dream of mechanism, so-called, recorded that which shall redeem innocence from the very gates 53 of death, and unloose the thunderbolt of justice that rives the guilty soul. [She gives a signal and Waeren enters with the phonograph.] Hear it, judge and jury, and accuser of the innocent. It speaks the voice of the living, and in the voice of the dead — it speaks. [She turns the phonograph and it speaks, viz. .*] Allcott's voice. " Hear me, Colonel.'.' Eellows voice. "Hear me! You have betrayed me. Allcott, you must die !" Duane. [Rising.] Light at last, thank God, light at last ! Ida. (Rushing toiuard him.) Yes, light, light and — love Duane. My glorious — wife ! [Sensation throughout the Court.] (The judge and jury rise to their feet — Outsiders dap their hands and loave hankerehiefs, noise, cjie. Cries of "order," order inthe Court room. Us laivyer goes to p)honograph and Warren ex- plains it to him ; — byplay. Dr. Dawson sends Jackson out of Court ; — by-play.) Law. (Advanding.) Colonel Jerome Fellows ! murder will out. This pistol here, Duane's, (picks it up,) has foiled thee now — has there revealed thy secret crime — (points to phonograph) — has saved his life. (Points to D.) Its fatal shot, that night, struck on that instrument — speak not ! — lit up and pictured there in tongues of fire, to judge thee now, thy bloody, guilty, murderous speech — speak not! Thy hand it was that fired that tell-tale shot — recorded, then and there, thine own death-warrant ! No mystery now. Speak not. * * * * * * Your deeds speak for you, echo from afar, And what jou have done makes you what ^o« are.' Gentlemen of the j ury : The chain of evidence is complete ; our defence is closed ; are you satisfied ? [ The Jury sit down — the Lawyer, also. The Judge hands a 'paper to Clerk.] Jackson. (Entering iviih officer having hand-cuffs.) Yes, sir ; the chains of evidence is complete, (Introducing.) Col. Fellows, Captain Jordan, Captain Jordan, Fellows. Fellows, Jordan — Jordan — Barbara. Over the river, Colonel I over the river. 54 The officer hand-cuffs Fellows, while leading him to "C. D." Jackson makes motions round his neck, says "glick;" takes a /a?i/rom Barbara and offers it to F.; the officer takes it for him. By-play. Fellows, at " C. D.," lifts his head and looks bewildered around the room; his eye liglits on Ida ; she points to the phonograph; ' his head falls as [The curtain drops.] 55 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 017 401 337 8 i