• i-ovs oidei' * * DE AVITT^S '' Actiii;^ Plays. PS 2919 PRTCF. 25 CENTS. f .S534 H5 '^"^ ^ DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS. 'sKS) (Niinxl>er 3 58.) HICK'RY FARM. A Comedy-Drama of New England Life. irO- TTTVO .A.C37S. By EDWIN M. STERN TOGr.THElt WITH A Desc'iiplioii of tlie Coetiimes— Cast of tlie Cliaiacters— Entrances and Exits— Uelative Posiiioiis of tlie Pei'foriuers on the Stage— ami tlie wliole of the Statje Bii&iuess. bl THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE, |d ^^ A COMPLETE DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE OF DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS and DE WITTS ETHIOPIAN AND COMIC DRAMAS, containing Plot, Costume, Scenery, Time of Representation, and all other information, mailed free and post-paid on application. DE ^S;\^ITT'S ETHIOPIAN AND COMIC DRAMA. Kothlng eo thorough and complete in the way of Ethiopian snd Comio Draraas has ever been printed as those that appear in the following list, Kuc oiiiy ^d--? tus plots excellent, the characters droll, the incidents funny, the languap*- tumoi-ous, out all the situations.^y-play, positions, pantomimic business, scenery, and tricks are bo plainly set down and clearly explained that the merest novice could put any of them on the stage. Included in this Catalogue are all the most laughable and effective pieces of their class ever produced. *if* In ordering please copy the figures at the commencement of each piece, which indicate the number of the pleco in " De 'Witt's Ethiopian and Comic Drama." j6S~ Any of the following Plays Bent, postage free, on receipt of price — Fifteen Cents each. J8S- The figure following the name of the Play denotes the number of Acts. The figures in the columns indicate the number of characters — il. male; F. female. M. F. 141. Absent Minded, Ethiopian fiirce, 1 act 3 1 73. / frican Box, burlesque, 2 scenes. . . 5 107. Airicauus Bluebeard, musical Ethi- opian burlesque, 1 scene 6 2 113. Ambition, farce, 2 scenes 7 133. Awful Plot (An) Ethiopian farce, la. 3 1 43. Baby Elephant, sketch, 2 scenes.... 7 1 42. Bad" Whiskey, Irish sketch, 1 scene. 2 1 79. Baruey's Courtship, musical inter- lude, 1 act 1 2 40. Big Mistake, sketch, 1 scene 4 6. Black Chap from Whitechapel, Ne- gro piece 4 10. Black Chemist, sketch, 1 scene .... 3 11. Black-Ey'd William, sketch, 2 scenes 4 1 146. Black Forrest (The), Ethiopian farce, ' 51 1 act 2 1 ( 152 110. Black Magician (De),Ethiopian com- icality 4 2 126. Black Statue (The), Negro farce 4 2 127. Blinks and Jinks, Ethiopian sketch, 3 1 128. Boboliuo, the Black Bandit, Ethio- pian musical farce, 1 act 2 1 120. Body Suatchers (The),Negro sketch, 2 scenes 3 1 78. Bogus ludian, sketch, 4 scenes 5 2 89. Bogus Talking Machine (The), farce, 1 scene 4 24. Bruised and Cured, sketch, 1 scene. 2 108. Charge of the Hash Brigade, comic Irish musical sketch 2 2 148. Christmas Eve in the South, Ethio- pian farce, 1 act 6 2 85. Coal Heaver's Kevenge,Negro sketch, 1 scene 6 112. Coming Man (The), Ethiopian sketch, 2 scenes 3 1 41. Cremation, sketch, 2 scenes 8 1 Crowded Hotel (Th£), sketch, 1 sc. 4 1 Cupid's Frolics, sketch, 1 scene.... 5 1 Daguerreotypes, sketch, 1 scene .... 3 Damon and Pythias, burlesque, 2 sc. 5 1 Darkey's Stratagem, sketch, 1 scene 3 1 Darkey Sleep Walker (The), Eithio- Dlan sketch, 1 scene 3 1 M. F. Deaf as a Post, Ethiopian sketch.. . . 2 Deede) of Darkness, Ethiopian ex- travaganza, 1 act 6 1 Desperate Situation (A), farce, 1 sc. 5 2 Draft (The), sketch, 2 scenes 6 Dutchman's Ghost, 1 scene 4 1 Dutch Justice, laughable sketch, j 1 scene 11 Editor's Troubles, farce, 1 scene.. . 6 Eh ? What is it ? sketch 4 1 Election Day, Ethiopian farce, 2 sc. 6 11 Elopement (The), farce. 2 scenes. .. 4 1 Excise Trials, sketch, 1 scene 10 1 Fellow that Looks like Me, inter- i lude, 1 scene 2 1; First Night (The\ Dutch farce, 1 act 4 2 i Fisherman's Luck, sketch, 1 scene. 2 Fuu in a Cooper's Shop, Ethiopian I sketch 6 ; Gambrinus, King of Lager Beer, Ethiopian burlesque, 2 scenes. ... 8 1 German Emigrant (The), sketch, Isc. 2 2 Getting Square on the Call Boy, sketch, 1 scene 3 Ghost (The). Sketch, 1 act 2 Ghost in a Pawn Shop, sketch. 1 sc. 4 Glycerine Oil, sketch, 2 scenes 3 Going for the Cup, interlude 4 Good Night's Best, sketch, 1 scene. 3 Go and get Tight, Ethiopian sketch, 1 scene 6 Gripsack, sketch, 1 scene 3 Guide to the Stage, sketch 3 Happy Coui^le. 1 scene 2 1 Happy Uncle Kufus, Ethiopian mu- ' sical sketch, 1 scene 1 1 Hard Times, extravaganza. 1 scene. 5 1 Helen's Funny Babies, burlesque, 1 act 6 Hemmed In. sketch 3 1 High Jack, the Heeler, sketch, 1 BC, 6 Hlppotheatron, sketch 9 How to Pay the Rent, farce, 1 scene 6 In and Out, sketch, 1 scene 2 Intelligence Office (The), Bthiopian sketch, 1 aceBe 2 1 HICK'M FARM. A COMEDY-DRAMA OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE. IN TWO ACTS. AS PRESENTED AT THE LEXINGTON AVE. OPEr.A HOUSE, NEW YORK. By EDWIN M. STERN. XOQETUEB WITH A DESCRIPTIOJT OF THE COSTUMES —CAST OP THE CHARACTERS — KN- TilANCES ANU EXITS — RELATIVE TOSITIONS OF THE PERFORJI- EBS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE BTAQE BUSINESS. NEW YORK : THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE, No. 3:i Rose Stuef:t. Copyright, 1831, by R. H. Russell & Sos. HICK'RY FARM. CHARACTERS. EzEEiEL Fortune, a New England farmer. UuiAH Skinner, a miser. Gilbert Darkwood, handsome and imscrupnlons. Jack Nelson. Lawrence McKeegan, au alderman from the city. Detective Rankin. Two Constables. Jessie Fortune, prett}'*and unsophisticated. Mrs. Priscilla Dodge, a susceptible widow. TIME IN PLAYING— ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES. SCENERY. I Gate. I 0. Fence. BShi-ul I Stoop. Tree, o Shrubbery. y Tree, o Bench. - Shrubbery. O O OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ACT I. — Landscape backing on flat. Rustic fence running across stage in 4th grooves, with practicable gate, c. Set cottage r. 1 e. to ». 3 e, with low stoop and practicable door. Trees l. 2 E. and L. 3 e., with hammock swung between. Rustic bench or .seats under tree l. 2 e. ACT II. — A large, poorly-l'uriiished room, with cracked or rough-boarded walls and appearance of dilapidation. Fireplace, with snioulderin,' fire, l. Doors r. 2 E., L. 1 E., and c. in flat. Plain table with chairs r. ; ouo or two chairs L. COSTUMES. Fortune.— Act I.— Dark-colored or gray pantaloons and vest of well-to-do farmer; no coat; white shirt, with turn-down collar; substantial shoes; gray bald wig, throat whi.skers to match; .straw or light-colored soft hat. Act II.— Clothes same as Act 1, with addition of coat, but presenting a somewhat worn and faded appearance; no hat; shoes, as before. /^-3?/^/ HICK BY FARM. 3 Skinner.— Act I— Well-woru suit, style similar to FonxuNE's; rather higb-crowned dark straw bat; sack coat; farmer's sboes; smooth face; wig, slis^btly gray aud bald. Act II. — Clothes same as Act 1, with addition of gray overcoat and dark felt hat. Darkwood. — Act I. — Stylish summer walking suit. Light derby or straw hat, cane, gloves, fancy shirt, with standing collar, and cnfl's to match; dark mustache; handsome jewelry. Act II. — Handsome dark overcoat, with fur collar and cuffs; dark pants, high silk hat. Jack. — Act I. — Plain mixed business suit; low-crowned felt or straw hat; white shirt, with rolling collar; plain white cuff.s, no jewelry. Act II. — Plain, dark, worn business suit; dark felt bat, woolen comforter. McKeegan. — Act I. — Rather loud striped or fancy business suit; striped shirt, with rolling collar, and cuffs to match; bigh-crowned soft hat; red bald wig, with reddish beard and mustache; heavy cane. Act II. — Dark travelling suit, with cape overcoat and flat-crowned derby hat; white shirt, rolling collar, and cuffs; otherwise as in Act 1. Rankis.— Act II.— Stylish dark suit, with heavy pea-jacket or overcoat; derby hat; dark mustache. CoN.sTABLES. — Plain dark suits, with overcoats and bats. Jessie. — Act I. — Simple country summer walking dress, with appropriate bat or bonnet, changing iu last part of act to darker travelling costume, with hooded cloak or water-proof. Act II. — Dark travelling costume, with sack or wrap: outside wrap is to be removed during act. Mas. Dodge.— Act I. — Dressed iu rather bad taste, with showy materials; bonnet, gloves, and parasol; these last are removed during act. Act II. — Travelling costume; with bonnet and wraps, part of which are dispensed with during the act. PROPERTIES. Act I.— Money (coin) for Darkwood; milk-pails for Fortune; book and flowers for Jessie; parasol for Mrs. Dodge; photo for Darkwood; purse and earrings for Mrs. Dodge; satchel and letter (unsealed) for Jessie; lantern for Fortune; pitcher of water for McKeegan; spectacles for Fortune. Act II.— Hat and muffler for Jack; flute for Fortune; watch for Rankin; hand- kerchief for do. ; pistol for Darkwood; pistol for Rankin. SYNOPSIS. Gilbert Darkwood, a blackleg from the city, has discovered that a projected railroad intends erecting a station on Zekiel Fortune's i)lace, Hickory Farm. As the railroad will pay a very large price for the farm, Darkwood plots with Skinner to obtain the title-deed from Fortune, dispossess him, and reap the profits of the sale. Skinner, who has a long-stiuding grudge against Fortune, agrees to steal the deed. Darkwood discovers that Fortune's only daughter, Jessie, is the little country girl whose head he had turned the preceding winter in the city, .and in- duces her to elope with him. Before leaving, Darkwood obtains the title-deed, and also manages to rob the Mayville Bank (which contains all of Fortune's sav- ing.s), and to cast suspicion of the robbery upon Jack Nelson, Fortune's adopted 4 HICK BY FARM. son, who IB in love with Jessie. Iu the secoud act, Daekwood, who has sold For- tune's house over his head, ai)pears aud deuiauds the rent for the poor hovel that Fortune aud Jack uow occupy. Skinner, who has repented his part iu the affair that has brought such misfortune ou his old neighbors, threateus to expose Dark- wood. A New York detective arrives, and, with Skinner's help, obtaius evidence that Darkwood robbed the bank. Jessie returns. Jack Nelson's name is cleared of suspicion, aud the title-deed of the farm is restored to old Fortune. Darkwood is shot by the detective for resisting arrest. The love passages of Alderman McKeeoan and Mrs. Dodge afford a most humorous accompaniment to the drama. SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS FOR HOUSE PROGRAMMES, Etc. ACT I. — Hick'ry Farm House.— Darkwood's plot— Skinner tempted — Money I Gold! — Zekiel appears — "Be you Ann Maria's boy?" — Fortune's reminiscences— The deed must be stolen !— Hard cider— Aunt Priscilla's love— The alderman's brogue— "Dear departed Hezekiah "—Jessie's secret- -"Then you still love me?" — " Larry McKeegan's courtin' "—The " wiildy " succumbs—" Zekiel's fav'rif song " — McKeegan's ghost— Jack Nelson makes a discovery— Jessie has gone ! — " Heaven help me ! "—Zekiel's prayer. ACT II.— In Fortunes Shantt.— Zekiel's misfortunes— The rent collector— Darkwood's insult — " Villain, you lie ! " — Skiimer's remorse — The New York de- tective — The bank robbery — Darkwood threateus — Jessie returns — The alderman married — "Sure it's a darlint little woife she is" — Zekiel's happiness — "Gosh! I aiu't felt so gol-darued happy siuct I wuz a boy!" — .\ trap for Darkwood — Jack and Jessie re-united — Priscilla pacified — Darkwood at bay — " Stand aside, as you value your lives ! '' — The detective fires — " You've done for me this time ! " — Zekiel's for- giveness—Old Hick'ry farm restored. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means Eight of Stage, facing the Audience; L. Left; C.Centre; E. C. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage; C. D. F. Centre Door iu the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat; L. D. F. Left Door iu the Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance; 2 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second or Third Groove. R. R. C. C. L. C. L. jg^ The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing the audience IIICK'RY FARM. SCENE.— Etrtov'oro/ Fortune's place. Skinner and Darkwood dis- covered sittinij on rustic seat, l. Darkwood. Skinner, Ihe fads of the case are simply these: The New Hampshire, Vermont, and Northern Raih'oad intend running a branch through this village on to Dunn's Bridge. I have it on the best iiutliority that they intend building a permanent station in this very town. They have been surveying the lay of the land for some time past, and have at last arranged to run their tracks along this road. Their depot will be built on this very spot. Skinner. What! on Zeke Fortune's place? Why, Zeke's in luck! They'll pay a big price for it now, won't tliey ? Dark. Yes; inasmuch as this is the most desirable location in the neighborhood for a station, it is likely that they will pay almost any price asked. Skin. Wliat do j'ou think, now, they'd ofl'er for the iilace ? Dark. Tiie minimum sum would l:>e lifty thousand dollars. Skin. Fifty thousand dollars! Fifty thousainl dollars! Zeke's in luck ! Zeke's in luck ! Ah, but he was born lucky — been lucky ever since I knew him. Every tiling I touch goes wrong; everything he takes liold on gits along ! Ale'n him loved the same girl; of course she married him. Luck! luck! ii is cursed luck! N(»w he's in a fair way o' makin' lifty thousand dollars ! I never saw half that mucii. Dark. But listen to me. It is in your power to make as much, and more. Skin. In my power to make fifty thousand dollars ! {ewjerlj/) Stranger, how. how ? Dark. Very .simply. If you and I owned this place instead of this man Fortune, tiie railroad would have to purchase it from us instead of him ? Skin. Yes; but how can we git possession of it? Zeke Fortune swears he'll never sell the place for any one else to live in. He's at- tached to the place ever since his wife died. Dark. But if we could o])tain it without buying it? Skin. Obtain it without buying it ! Why, how ? Dark. If I can obtain possession of the title-deed, I can make it ap- pear that he has transferred the house to you for a certain sum of mo- ney. I can forge a receipt. Do you comprehend ? Skin. But how to git hold of the deed ? Dark. It is for that reason tiiat I conlide in j'ou. You are known at b HICK BY FARM. the house, and can therefore more easily lay your hands on the docu- ment. Skin. And you say it'll be a lot o' money in my pocket? How much, say? Dark. Probably thirty or forty thousand dollars. Skin, {do am l. to c). Tliirty or forty thousand dollars! A heap o' money ! A heap o' money ! But, see here, young stranp:er, I don't know yon. You come to me j^ester' night, and says you, "Old man, I've got a job on foot, and you are just the man to do it." You tell me now there's money in it— thirty or forty thousand dollars; a big heap o' money for a poor man like me. But how am I to know that after I've done your dirty work you'll keep your word ? Dark, {down c). To show you that I mean what I saj', here is a voucher, {hands moiiei/.) Skin, {greedily clutching it). Money ! Gold ! Good money ! How much? Five, ten — twenty-five dollars,! Good money — all mine! Dark. And much more, if you succeed in obtaining the title-deed of the iiouse. Skin. You swear you'll give me more when I git the deed ? More money ? Dark. You shall have as much as you want. Skin. Stranger, ye. may be rich, but ye never could give me all the gold I want. Gold! I love it better than mother, father, sister, or brother. Gold ! I love it better than life itself. Sweet, beautiful gold ! {contemplates coin in hand.) Dark, {aside). By Jove ! I'm having an easier time thnn I thought for. This old miser would sell himself, if need be, for money. He will make a useful tool. Once I hold the title-deed of that house in my liossession, success is assured. The railway will pay at least a hundred thousand dollars for the property — enough to keep me in clover for some time to come. To avoid my presence causing this man Fortune any suspicion, it would be well to use some caution. An idea! {(doial) Skinner, how would it do to pass me off for your nephew from the city, son of your sister, you know ? It will keep them off the scent. Skin. Pass you off for my nephew ? Likely, likely ! But Dark. Pshaw now, no buts. You'll do it now, won't you? Skin. Do it ? Hm ! Yes, ef ye make it worth my while. Dark, (aside). Confound the old fool ! he's bleeding me like a leech, {aloud) You know I ask you to do nothing free gratis. Here's a proof of what I say. {hands money.) Skin, {eagerly). Money ! Fortune {outside). Whoa now ! Stand still there, Nora ! Skin. Zeke's voice ! He's comin' this way. Dark. Remember, Skinner, I am j^our nephew, {crosses to l.) Enter, c. Fortune, with milkpail in each hand. Fortune {speaJcing as he enters). Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef that 'ere brindle ain't the skeeriest crittur in Christendom; she all but stepped into the pail, by graciou.=!. (seeing Skinner ojid Darkwood) Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef it ain't 'Riah Skinner himself ! How be ye, 'Riah ? {to Darkwood) How be ye, stranger ? Skin. (l. c). My nephew, Zek'l, from the city — Ann Maria's boy. Dark. (l.). Mr. Fortune, I'm pleased to know you. Fort. (o.). Wall, I declare to goodness gracious me, be you Ann Maria's boy ? Why, man, I know'd ye afore ye war born ! an' I'll be HICK RY FARM. 7 gol-darned ef ye ain't the liviii' pictur' of yer mother. A likely gal was Ann Maria. Slie was my Sund'y-go-to-meetin' gal onct, was Ann Maria. My, how slie'n me did the sparkin' act ! That was afore I met Lucy Jane Snyder. Skin. Yes, an' cut me out o' marryin' her. FouT. 'Riah never could get over tlie way I spliced Lucy Jane right under his nose. We war great swells in them days, 'Riah'n me, I tell ye. I'll be gol-darned ef we didn't burst more heart^'n tliar was gals. Dark. Yes, my motlier has often told me of the good times she had during her youth. You were one of her favorites. Fort. Wall, I tell ye, young man, 1 wa.s a mighty smart lookin' chap w'en I was young, an" it took a mighty spry gal to get away with a hull heart w'en I was 'round, eh, 'Riah ? Dark. You possess a very desirable place here, Mr. Fortune. Fort. Oh, yes, pretty comf table; couldn't wisli nothin' more. Dark. It's just such a i)lace as I have long wished to buy, as a sort of investment, you know. Could you be induced to part with it at your own price ? Fort. Part with Hick'ry Farm ! No, siree bob ! Not ez long ez Zeke Fortune lives, nor arter he's dead nuther, ef he kin help it. I built this 'ere jilace fur me'n Lucy Jane jest arter Parson Brown had tied the knot. Fur many years we lived together in it, happy"n contented. In it my darter Jess was born, an' in it Lucy Jane, God bless her, gin up the ghost, ez I mean ter w'en my turn comes round. So ye see, stran- ger, tliis house'n me are old relations, an' Zeke Fortune ain't the man to go back on his relations. Dark, {a^'cie). Tlien there is but one thing to do; Skinner must steal the deed, and at once. Fort. Jehusifet! but ain't it hot ! Jest walk inter the house, an' I'll give ye some hard cider o' my own makin' ez'U make ye think o' para- dise. {f/ie>/ f/o toicaril /innsf', fti/khiff.) [hZrif Fortvse info /loxse. Dark, (at door). Remember to keep your eyes open. Skinner. You must act at once. The title-deed and your forty thousand dollars. [Exit into house. Sktn". {aohat). Oh, I won't foiget ! Zeke Fortune, my turn hez come at last. Ye won die only woman I ever loved from me. I've never forgiven that. Ye'll have a taste of the life I've lived since tlien. Things'll be changed when I git hold o' that title-deed. You'll be the pauper then. " [Exit into house. Enter, i,., Jessie and Mrs. Dodoe, as if retin'ninrf.from n stroll ; Je.ssie irith tjook and basket of flowm-s, dressed sini/ilf/ ; Mrs. D. dressed gori/eonsli/, ^xtrasol, etc. — exceplionalli/ had taste. Miis. Dodoe. Thank goodness we're home again, though we've had a delightful stroll. But oh liow warm it was I I must confess, Jessie, I was just a little disappointed. I half expected to meet the alderman this afternoon. Jessie. Now, aunt Priscilla, what can you see in that common-place Irishman, I don't understand. So plebeianly vulgar, and sucli a dread- fully bald head, fringed all around with scarlet hair. Fie on such taste, 1 say. Mrs. D. Je.ssie, your utter disregard for my feelim:s quite shocks me. Alderman McKeegan is my friend, remi'mber, and in my presence you will be kind enouijh to talk of him with common decency. Jessie. And what a dreadful brogue he has. 8 hick'ky farm. Mrs. D. Brogue, my dear, brogue? You probablj^ have reference to his Celtic accent. That is one of iiis chief attractions in my eyes. And then he is so very witty. Really, I never feel wearied with the alder- man's company, {tliei/ no vp and sit l. ) Jessiic. AV'hy, aunt, I positively believe you have set your cap for the Irish alderman. Imagine me calling that savage, uncle. Ugh ! {makes r/riniace) Aunt, I should think you had had enough of matrimony. AVhy, it's not six months since you buried your third. jMus. D. And what of that, miss, what of that ? I flatter myself I look young enough to be your sister, for all that. And what if I have been married three times '? I'm good enough for three more. Jkssir. Why, I've got a regular Bluebeardess for an aunt ! Oh, aunt, you have no romance; you always were so matter of fact. Mils. D. Romance? Fiddlesticks! That sort of thing was all well enough in olden times, and will do for those wretched, silly books that you spend hours in reading. But in the present day of progression and e very-day common sense, such trash won't do. My dear, when you have lived to be of my age, and have passed through my vnriegated and numerous matrimonial experiences, you will have very little ro- mance left. Jessie. That's just what Jack says of romance; he calls it rot, fiddle- sticks, and so on. Mhs. D. Jack Nelson is a sensible young man, and would make you an excellent husband. He reminds me very much of my poor dear de- parted Hezekiah. He was my first, you know. Jessie. Oil, but Jack is just too disgustingly matter of fact. It was only the other day that I was reading to him one of those clelicious love scenes from Bertha Clay's last novel, "His Mustache was Ins Fortime," when I was startled by a loud, terrific snore. Jack was actually sleep- ing. Mrs. D. I can't blame him, my dear. Such stuff" and nonsense would put any sensible person to sleep. Jessie {coi/li/). Aunt, will you promise never to breathe a word if I tell you a secret ? Mrs. D. My dear, I flatter myself I am difl'erent from most women in one respect at least; I know how to keep a secret. Why, it was only yesterday Mrs. Smith was telling me how she intended surprising her husband with a magnificent pair of slipi)ers for his birthday next month, and implored me not to say a word about it. Oh, I know how to keep a secret. Jessie. Well, then, aunt, I'm in love ! Mrs. D. Let me congratulate you, my dear. Has Jack proposed ? Jessie {disdai/ifiiU//). In love with Jack, that raw-boned, matter-of- fact Hoosier ! Aunt, I tliought you gave me credit for better taste. Mrs. D. Not Jack? AVhy, I thought it was all settled between you two. Parson Brown spoke to me only last Sunday about Jessie {intemrpting). I marry Jack Nelson? Never! I'd drown myself first. I — I Mrs. D. {i)itevr>iptiii(i). There, there, that's taken from one of .your trashy novels. You could go a great deal farther and fare worse than marry Jack Nelson. He earns a good salary at the bank, he's straight as a die, and would make a model husl)and. Jessie. But I tell you, aunt, I never could marry him. I won't! I won't ! So there ! Mrs. D. And yet it is not so long ago that you looked with anything hick'ry farm. 9 but disfavor on Jack Nelson's attentions to 5'ou. From when dates this sudden aversion ? Jessik. Ever since I visited ui}' old sclioohnate, Nettie Foster, in New York. Mks. D. And j'ou met some one there you liked better ? Jessie. Yes. Oh, aunt Priscilla, he is so liandsoine ! black eyes, and the sweetest mustaciie, and so tall and commanding. Mi!s. ]). And pray who is this Adonis, who has stolen your heart from honest Jack Nelson ? Jessie. His name is Gilbert. Is it not a lovely name? Mrs. D. It reminds me of tlie name of a villain in a play. Jessiic. Oh, aunt, how can you ? He was born to be a hero. Mus. D. And this man told you lie loved you — turned your silly little head, no doubt, with iiis romantic talk. Jessie. He does love me, aunt, and some day he is coming to marry nie. He swore it, and though since then I have not heard from him, something tells me he will come. Mks. D. {risuig). Well, my dear, I hope with all my iieart that he never will come. For, were he an honest lover, he would not have de- layed so long. True love, my dear, admits of no barriers. Take my advice, Jessie, and forget all about this city chap. [E.iut into lionse. Jessie (l., oh sea./, solus). Oh, aunt does not know Gilbert, or she would not speak like that. A nobler, truer, more honest heart than his never beat in man's breast. I know he loves me, and lie will come, for he swore it. But I wonder wluit has come over me to-day. I feel as downcast as if I knew there was some uiihappiness in store for me. But pshaw, iiow morbid I am ! What could hapj)en to cause nie mi- happiness ? (in deep reverie.) Enter Darkwood, /ro?;i house, stands at door, holding picture in hand. Dark, (aside). By Jove ! if it isn't Jessie, the little girl whose head I turned last winter in the city. I promised I would come and marry her. (Initghs) Wonder if she has become tired of waiting. What a fool- ish chit of a girl she was. Believed every word I told her, by Jove ! Rather a coincidence that she should be the daughter of the man I am — (.se^'<';/f/ Jessie) Hello ! a woman! Jessie, by Heaven ! Wonder if she'll remember me ? (goes up tn Jessie and touches her on shoulder.) Jessie {starting). Gilbert ! You here ? Daiuc. Then you remember me? Jessie. Remember you ? I was thinking of j'ou at this very moment. But what brings you here ? Dark. Is it necessary to ask ? I come to fulfill my promise made to 3'ou last winter. Jessie, Tlien you still love me, Gilbert ? Dark. More than ever, my darling. And you, have you still a little corner in your lieart left for me ? Jessie. Gilbert, it seems like a dream to have you here near me. I can scarcely realize it, I am so hapj)y. 0!i, Gilbert, do you remcmljer those delightful times of last winter, how you met and loved me ? Oh, you do love me, darling? Dai:k. Do you for one moment doubt me, Jessie? See, here is the photograiih you gave me. {taking lucturefrom pncki't) I carry it always next to my heart. Do you remember the promise you made me on that last nighty that you would be my wife ? Ah, but I read my answer in your eyes. It is yes. Confess now that I am right. 10 hick'ky farm. Jessie. I am so happy! You will never leave me again, Gilbert; promise me that. Dark. 'I'liat is impossible. Listen, Jessie. I have no time to spare. Business of i)aramount importance imperatively demands my return to the city at once. But Jessie {ut(errup(i7ir/). Scarcely have you come, when you speak of going away. Is that loverlike ? Dark. My darling, 1 cannot stay; but if you are willing, we need not part. Jessie. I do not understand. Dakk. It is simply this. You can come with me. We can be mar- ried early to-morrow morning in the city, and after the honeymoon has been spent, we can return and celebrate with the old folks. But mind, it is imperatively necessary that you should leave here without acquaint- ing any one with our intention. Jessie. Not tell aunt Priscilla, nor daddy ? Dark. Circumstances which will not bear explanation now, but which you shall hear later, make such a course compulsory. Jessie. To leave without a word to daddy ? Oh, Gilbert, I cannot; it would break his heart. Dark. And yet you say you love me. The very first request I make you refuse. Jessie. Oh, Gilbert, do not talk like that. You know I love you bet- ter than life itself. Dark. If that were so, you would be guided by me blindly. But I perceive how it is ; you love another, and are but coquetting with me. I am in the way; my journey has been for naught. Good-bye! {going toii^iird g(tte.) Jessie (going after him). Gilbert, I swear to you I love 3"0u alone ! But what you ask is terrible. Think of the sacrifice ! Dark. To a woman who truly loves a man, no sacrifice she can make for his sake, is too great. Jessie, you may take your choice. I love yOu, and will make you my wife, but you must come with me to-night without a word to any one, or I leave you now, never to return. You have your alternative. Choose quickly. Jessie {(ifter a menial struggle). Gilbert, I cannot give you up. I will do anything you ask. Dark, (aside). I thought that would bring her. (nloial) Spoken like the brave little girl that you are. Now listen. We have but little time to lose. The next train leaves at six; it is now five. In one hour I will meet you at the station. Do not fail me, or you will have seen me for the last time. Jessie. Oh, Gilbert, don't say that ! Dark. Mind, above all, don't breathe a syllable to any living soul. You can write from the cit.y. AVhy, darling, the minutes will be days until I see you again. Good-bye. {enihi-aces her. Jessie exits into house. Aside, at back) Tlie house is mine, and I may as well take the girl with it. [Exit, c. Enter Mrs. Dodge, from house. Mrs. D. (solus). I wonder why the alderman hasn't put in an appear- ance jet; it's past his time. Ah, a nice man is Lawrence McKeegan ! (sighing) Wiiat a fine coni)le we would make ! I wonder why he don't pop. It's not for the want of a chance, I'm sure. I take care to 'Ave him opportunity enough. But then the alderman is such a shy man. (sighing, and going over to hammock and lying in it) Ah me ! I can hick'ry farm. 11 keep the trutli from myself any longer. I have fallen a victim to the alderman's charms. I'm in love! Oh, I had just the loveliest dream last night. Enter McKeegan, at hack, c. I dreamed tliat I was a beautiful princess, and was lying asleep in a hammock, all of jewels, when suddenly a noble prince appeared, attired all in silver and gold. He bent over me and kissed me, and as 1 drank in his fragrant breath, I looked up into ids face, and it was none other than Alderman McKeegan. Oh, what a sweet breath it was ! {closes her ei/es.) McKeegan {aside). Larry McKeegan, yer a blackguard if ye spile the dislusion. Ye are the prince, an'" yonder lies the beautiful princess. Go an' do your duty. {a/)proac/ies Itammock and kisses Mks. D., w/io turns the other cheek, which, he a/so kisses. Aloud) Noble princess av me heart, accept me 'umble offerin'. Mrs. D. {jnvipiiig up). Oh, Alderman, how you frightened me ! McK. {aside). Divil a bit friglitened was she a minute ago. Mks. 1). And how could you do such a thing ? That's robbery. McK. Begorra, I'm an honest thafe, thin. Ilould still a moment. {kisses her) There, take thim back ag'in. Mrs. D. You naughty man, you ! "How dare you ? But why have you not come before now ? M(^K. {aside). Faith, I wasn't able, that drunk was I. {aloud) Oh, Mrs. Dodge, ye see several avme political friends called to .see me last night on affairs concerning the state, {coughs) an' they kept me very busj'. We was dlscussin' tiie high tariff on whiskey used for home consumption. They left me tiiis mornin' in state. Mks. D. In state? McK. Yis, {aside) in a stale of intoxication. Mils. D. Your state affairs must give you many a headache ? McK. Yis, tliat's the truth, {aside) Me head is splittin' every minute. {aloud) Yis, a stateman's loife is not an intoiiely liappy one. Mrs. D. Yes, especially when he is entirely alone, as you are, with no one to confide in, and help you bear the burden of your troubles. McK. {aside). Begorra, is she after half av me load ? Mrs. D. It's strange. Alderman, how deep an interest I take in you and your affairs, {aside) There's a chance for him ! McK. {aside). I wish I had tlie courage to ask her about tlie picnic. Mks. D. I never felt for any man as I feel for you ! McK. {aside). That's sayin' a good dale. She's been matrimomated thray toimes before. But now's me toime to spake what's on me moind. Oi'U ask her about goin' to the picnic, {n/.oud) Mrs. Dodge, I have a requist to make av ye; ye'U excuse me bouldness, but — {aside) How the divil shall I ask her ? Mrs. D. (aside). It's coming at last, thank goodness ! He's going to pop ! {aloud) A request to ask of me? Go on, Mr. McKeegan^ go on; it is granted before you ask it. McK. I'm not so sure but ye'll not take offence at me bouldness in askin' a woman av yer standin' to— to — (fisute) I'll ask her now av I die. Mrs. D. {asid''). He is embarrassed, poor fellow ! Why don't he go on ? I'm sure some one will spoil it all in a moment, (looks around.) McK. Mrs. Dodge — Priscilla— Mrs. Dodge, I mean — I beg yer pardon for me bouldness. Mrs. D. Not at all, Mr. McKeegan, not at all. {coyly) You may call me Priscilla, Lawrence. 12 hick'ry farm. McK. Will, thin, Mrs. Priscilla, ye've been very koind to me durin' me sojourney in this counthry, an' I should loike to show ye my appre- ciation; an' so av ye'll have nie as — as Mits. D. Have you? Of course I will, rather than any other man I know, {t/iroirs (d'iiis around litm) Oh, Lawrence, I'm so happy ! McK. But ye don't know yet what ye'll have nie for. Ye see, nie \\o- litical organization gives a picnic nixt wake, an' I want to know, would ye have ine as an escort? Mrs. D. (iUsiiuiijed). Have you as an escort? Why, I thought— is that all ? Mt;K. {aside). All ? Begorra ! what else does she want — a brass band ? Mrs. D. {going to hammocJc, sohhinc/, aside). Oh, but I see it all ! My poor deluded hopes ! And I thougiit he was going to pop. {aloud) Oh, Mr. McKeegan, how could you, how could you ? McK. {aside). There, now I've done it! Begorra, I knew I'd put me fut in it. A a political picnic is no place for a widdy. {aloud) Mrs. Dodge — I mane Priscilla — no, I mane Mrs. Podge — Oh, I don't know what I mane — I 'unibly beg yer pardon fur shockin' yer nerves. I — I — excuse me. I've an important ingagement wid a man in Halifax, Jerusalem, or somewhere, {aside) Begorra, I'll make me escape, an' take the nixt train for the Sandwich Islands. [ExU, c. Enter Fortune, //'o?;? house. Fort. I thought I heard something wrong in the pig-pen. Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef it ain't Priscilla, makin' a fool of herself, as usual, {goes over to /lajnnwe/r.) Mrs. D. Oh, Lawrence, if you have not the courage to speak, I must forget my maiden modesty for once. Lawrence, my own, I love you ? {}iifts arm around Fortune's jieck, irho leans orer hammoci:) I know what you would ask ; you want me to be your wife. Is it not so ? Fort, {aside). Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef she don't take me for the alderman, {aloud) Priscilla, be ye a-goin' daft, a-speakin' such trash ? Mrs. D. {starting up). You? Bah ! I tiiought it was the — the Fort. The alderman, eh? "Lawrence, I love ye." {lauijJnnij) Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef thet ain't the richest joke I ever heard on. (lauglis.) Miis. D. {imitatin'j). Ha, ha, ha! Oh, j^es, very funnj', isn't it, seeing your poor sister made a fool of ! {aside) And to think the alderman could be so ungrateful ! The wretch ! 1 never could see much in that man, any how. I hate him ! Only let me set my eyes on him again ! I'll give him a taste of my tongue he won't forget in a hurry ! [Exit into house. Fort. Wall, I'll be gol-darned ef I thort iasanetyness was in the fami- ly afore now. [Exit, r. Enter Skinner, from honse, with title-deed in hand. Sktn. {solus). Yes, here's the deed, sure enough. Had less trouble finding it than I expected. Now for the j'oung stranger at the tavern. {at gatevay seeing Fortu.^e, irho is still laughing at the joke) That's right, old man, enjoy yerself while ye can. Ye won't feel quite so funny to-morrow. Zeke Fortune, ye stole the only gal I ever loved from me; now I steal yer house. I've waited a long time to get squar' with ye, and now my chance has come. We're quits I [Exit, c. hick'ry farm, 13 Fort, {rehirning, still laiig/uuff). She took me for the alderman ! Wall, I'll be gol-danied ! {cros.ses and si/s l.) Enter Jessie, from house. Pauses on steps ami regards Fortune. JiissiE (aside). How happy dad seems to-day— this day of all others ! Dear old dad ! How will he feel in one siiort hour, when he linds I am -;nne ? Oil, iiow 1 dreatl that thouii;ht! Oh, but all is for tiie best. We will be together again very soon; then he will forgive me when he sees liow happy I am with Gilbert. Yes, 1 must learn to look at it in that light, ii/oes orer to Iter father and puis arms around his ncc/,'. Aloud) \Vhat makes my old daddy so happy to-day ? Four. Is it you, my little gal ? Why, gal, your old daddy has been taken for an alderman just now. Wlio wouldn't be happy at bein' taken for au alderman? "Lawrence, I love you!" {faur/hs, then suddeuli/ stops and looks i/itentli/ at Jessk;) But now it's my turn to catechise. What makes you so unhappy like to-day, gal ? Yoii look as sorrowful as a dog that's lost his master. Have you'n Jack been a-sassin' each other ? Jessie. I am not unhappy, dad. What could have put such a thought as that mto your dear oltl head ? Fotrr. [strokes hi^r hair and looks at her). As like as one pure white lily to another, little one ! Jessie. Was she very beautiful, dad. I have such a dim recollection of her. FoKT. She was wiiat she is now, an angel in heaven ! Jessie. But had she been plain, homely, and other than what she was you would liave loved her as well ? Fort. Little gal, good looks is only as dee]) as the skin; but the soul and character of a person is where you must look for true beauty. Her character was like a pit without bottom. And tliat reminds me of a song Lucy Jane used to sing to me wlien we were first spliced. You know it, little one, my favorite. "Believe me, if all those eudeariu' young charms," it begins. Jessie. Yes, dad, I know it well, {sings.) " Believe me, if all tho.-;e endearing young charms, AVhich I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy gifts fading away. Tliou would'st still be adored as this moment thou art Let tliy loveliness fade as it will. And around tlie dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. "It is not whde beauty and youth are thine own, And tliy cheeks unprofaned by a tear. That the fervor and faith of my soul can be known. To which time will make ihee more dear. Ah ! tiie heart tliut has truly lov'd never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close; As the sunllower turns on her god when he sets The same look which he turned wiien he rose." {Durin;/ song Ymwvsk fnrtireJ ij Irrushes tears from his eijes. .V its couclasion Jessie sobs on her father\i knee.) Fort. There, there, little one, don't cry. It is a sort o' aflectin' lit'.lo 14 hick'ry farm. tune though. I never hear it but I think o' those happy days when your mother was alive. Ah, them was hapi)y days, Jessie ! If she was livin', how proud slie'd be o' ii darter lii\e jou, Jess. Jk-ssie. Dad, do you believe in the words of that song? Fort. As surely as I believe in heaven above. Jessie. And no matter how — how — I— I should change, j'ou would still love me ? FoKT. Jess, ye might turn on yer poor old dad, drive him from yer home, an' load him down with curses an' hard words; his old heart ■wouldn't change towards ye; an' in the hour o' trouble his old arms would be the fust to open fur ye. But I'll be gol-darned ef I ain't gettin' ez glum an' solemn ez an undertaker. It's a'most timi; for tea. Run in now an' help Peggy lay the plates, thafs a good little girl; it 11 sort o' liven ye up some'at. (Jessie hhiIIcs s/oiol// toimrds (he duor, stands and casts one glance at her father, loid exit into house.) Enter 3 \ck, from road, c. • Jack. Hello, daddy, how are you getting on to-day ? Fort. Pretty tol'able, pretty tol'able, thank'ee, Jack. Jest gettin' home from the b;iiik? Jack. Yes, and I thought I'd just stop in and see whether you had any odd chores you want done, (aside) I wonder where Jessie is ? Fort, [aside). I'd jest like to know, now, how it is when young folks is in love they can lie so. Now he jest dropped in to get a word with Jess, I'll bet. Chores indeed! {aloud) Jack, how is things at the bank ? Squar' Smith told me yesterd'y that things wasn't 'zackly what they might be. Jack. That was only a slight temporary embarrassment. Things will be running smoothly again to-morrow. There was im unusual run on the bank by dei)ositors, and the ready casii gave out. You need not have the slighest uneasiness on that score, {staye ijradaallij grows dark as night is coniliig on.) Fort. Wall, ye see, Jack, all that I've got in the world is in the keepin' o' the bank, an' ef she goes up, I'll hev nothiii' to fall back on but this old house, an' it'd break my i)Oor heart to i)art with that. Jack. Now don't worry, dadtly ; the Mayville Savings Bank is as solid as a rock; notiiing short of embezzlement or robbery could break it. Fort. Wall, Jack, I trust ye may be right, my boy; I've got my fears though. Ye'U stay to tea. Jack, won't ye ? Of course ye will. I've got a couple o' accounts I want ye to straighten up for me any how. Come into the house an' I'll show 'em to ye. And as for the bank, I don't [E.cit with Jack into house, talking. Enter McKeega.v, c, coat collar up, hat over eyes ; he looks around carefxdly. McK. Nobody in soight. I guess it's safe to vinture back fur a miiiit. In me hurry to kape tliat appointment I forgot me cane, {looks for it) Where the divil can I have put it? Begorra, what a turn the widdy did give me. I never saw a woman have the highsterics before this daj'. I wonder where she is. (looks in. at kei/hole) Faix, I haven't the courage to knock, (door suddenly opens and Mrs. Dodge enters.) Mrs. D. (starting hack). Oh, a man! A burglar! Good Heavens! Oh, Mr. Burglar, I won't scream. Please don't molest me. Here's my purse, my earrings, everything; here, take them, but don't harm a poor defenceless creature like me. (on knees.) HICK KY FARM. 15 McK. (aside). Be<2;orr;i, I'll have me revinge now fur tlie freight she gave me. (afond) It's not yer jew'ls I want, but revinge. Blood ! blood ! Prepare to die! {serio-trcgic-dir.) Alus. D. Oh, dear, kind, good Mr. Burglar, what have I done that you should seek such a terrible vengeance ? McK. {aside). Faix, Oi'U lay it on strong! {aloud) Listen an' I'll tell ye. But a few hours since, the noblest man the world has iver seen, me best fri'nd, Aldernum Larry McKeegan, left me in the Ijest of he:dth an' sperits. (aside) Especially the sperits. (alond) Now his body dangles from ihe limb of a tree in yonder grove, an' the wind is blowin' his gintle form to an' fro. MiiS. D. (ic/io during this entire scene has not looked at McKeegan). Lawrence — Alderman McKeegan —dead ? McK. Yis, madam; driven to infanticide by your croquetry. Ye re- fused to go to tlie picnic wid him, an it broke his heart. Even while I'm spakin' I can hear the warm summer zephyrs as they softly meander througli his evergreen whiskei-s, a-playin' tag wid his coat-tails. Oh, the tliougiit brings tears to me eyes ! Mks. D. Oh, what iiave I done ! what have I done ! Tell me that you are in jest — that it is not true ! McK. Alas ! woukl tliat I could say otherwise. Never again will the silvery accents of his swate voice tickh; your ears, nor the fragrance of his breath swaten the atmosphere I Killed by you, cruel woman ! Dead ! dead ! Miis. Oh, Lawi-ence, Lawrence, come back to your Priscilla ! McK. {asidi^). Begorra, Oi've been dead long enough, an' now Oi'U risurrict mesiif, an' till her wid joy ! (alond) Priscilla, me loife, look up into me oyes an' behold before ye, alive an' well, Larry McKeegan ! Mrs. D. You! you! McK. Forgive me slight deceiition, Priscilla; 'twas but a ruse of love. Mils. D. You! you! And I thought it was a burglar! Oh, it's too bad, it's too bad ! How could you make such a fool of me ? (sobs hys- terica////. Crosses to i,.) McK. (aside). Begorra, she's gettin' into the highsterics again ! Oh, Lord ! what shall Ido ? what sliall I do ? If tliey hear her in the house they'll think she's bein' kilt intoirel}'. Oh, Lord ! (alond) Oh, Priscilla, me own, I Mijs. D. (sohl)ing). Don't Priscilla me, j'ou miserable man — you, you insiduous wretch — you, you monster — you, you — Oh ! oh ! (.sobbing.) McK. (nervous basiiiess. Enns frantical/// from Pkiscilla, ifho seats her.'^elf in hainnwclr, to the hoii-fe, gesllcniafing irild///). For the love av Hivin, Mrs. Dodge, listen to rason. It was all a joke; I swear it. (aside) Av Oi iver git out av this aloive, Oi'U swear off women in- toirely. Mus. D. You're a mean, contemptible thing, that's what ye are ! McK. Oi'm not, Priscilla; Oi Mrs. D. How dare you contradict me ? You are ! McK. Priscilla, jer roight; Oi'm inything. Oi Mrs. D. Oh, what a fool I am ! McK. Yer roight, yer roight! No, yer wrong, yer wrong; av course yer wrong. Mrs. D. Insult added to injury ! Oh, that I should have lived to see this day ! Oli, I wish 1 was dead ! McK. So do Oi, so do Oi ! Mrs. D. Oh, how can you say it? McK. Oi didn't mane that; Oi maned — oh, Oi don't know what Oi 16 hick'ry farm. mane, Oi'm that disthracted. (asitle) AxV there's some one comin'; I'll swear it. Oh, Lord ! Oh, Lord ! Oi'm good for a breech av promise. (aloud) Oh, Priscilla, how can ye vex me so, whin ye Ivuow Oi love ye ? {goi's lip lo Iter ami 2^nts his ami around her tcaist ; she offers no oiqio- sitiou) Oh, Priscilla, me loife, forgive me; it was but a plan to discover wlietiier ye cared for me. Oi see ye do. Ah, don't attimpt to deny it. Oi know it. Priscilla, me own, 01 love .ye ! Will ye marry me ? iMi:.i. D. (aside). This is more like business. McK. Priscilla, loife widout ye wouldn't be worth livin'. Say ye for- give me. Mks. D. I have nothing to forgive, Lawrence. I knew it was you all the time. M(;K. (aside). For an iligiint, first-class, double-bristed liar, recom- mind me a v\d dy ! Mus. D. And you do love me, Lawrence ? Mv,K. Love, me own? 'Tis more than love; 'tis disthraction. Romeo's love for Juliet coukln't hould a candle to the affiction I fale for ye ! Mrs. D. What a lovely sentiment ! Ah, what a noble Romeo you would make, Lawrence ! McK. Ah, Priscilla, me own, av Romeo had discovered ye before he met Juliel, Juliet would have died an ould maid ! Mrs. D. I would love to play Juliet to your Romeo. McK. Av ye'U just walk into the parlor wid me, an' turn the loights down, well rehearse the balcony scane. Oi'U guarantay to make j'e perfect it fifteen minutes. Lade the waj' — Oi follow. [They exit into house. Elder Jessik, stealtJiibi, from house, hooded and cloaked, satchel in hand. Stage darkened. Slow music, piano. Jessie (.so?/^s). I have slipi^ed out thus far unobserved ! Oh, how I detest this base subterfuge, this stealing away like a tliief in the night ! But Gilbert said it was for the best, and I must be guided by him blind- ly, he is so noble and so good. These few lines will explain all I dare tell, (drops note) Farewell, daddy ! Forgive your little girl this decep- tion. We shall meet again very "soon, for Gilbert promised me that. I will return to you liappy, oh, so happy ! (sobbing at gale) Farewell, daddy, farewell! [Exit, c. Enter, from house, Jack and Fortune, with lantern. Jack. Well, goodnight, daddy; I must be going. Four. Wall, tlion, ef ye won't stay to tea, good-night to ye. Jack, my boy. I'll jest take a look in at the barn an' see thet all's right for the night. [Oros'^es stage and e.vit, l. Jack (snlus. Music, very loir). Why is it that Jessie so studiously avoids me ? She barely noticed me to-night. Wi)at can I have done to displease her ? And I had so fondly hoped that some day she might be my wife. Alas ! such happiness is not for poor Jack Nelson. Ever since her return from the city her manner towards me has changed en- tirely. Can it be that she has lost her heart to one of those sweet- tongued city chains ? But no; Jessie is too honest to have a secret from her old playfellow. To-morrow I sliall speak to her. I must have an explanation. Ah, well, there's no chance of seeing her again to-night, I might as well be going, (goes toivard gate, c.,H/ids letter and picks it vp) Hello, what's this ? Somebody must have lost it. Jessie's hick'ry farm. 17 writing, as I live! Great Heavens ! wliat can this mean ? {ppe)is ami rends.) "Dear Dad — Forgive your little girl for what she is about to do. I must leave you, dad, for a short time. Believe me, I go witiroiie in whose honor and integrity I can safely trust. I will explain all later. "Your loving daughter, Jessik." My God ! Eloped ! Jessie, my darlhig, gone with another ! Oh, Heaven help me ! I'm choking I {fdi/its. Fortune is heard outside whisUin'j "Believe me, if all those endearing young charms." Enter Fortune, l., with Imitern, still wliistling. Fort. Somehow or other that tune keeps runnin' through my head. I nmst ask Jess to sing it again for me, arter tea. {(/oes to irard house (Did stnml>les over J.ack) Jehusifet ! wlio's tiiet ? Jack, by jingo ! sound asleej). JacJv, my boy, I say Jack ! {shnkinr/ him) Wake up! ye'll be ketchin' yer death o' cold. He's fainted ! Jehusifet ! {adliny) Jessie ! Priscilla! Peggy! Some water, quick ! Jack's fainted ! (.s7op «j«.vic. Bri)iyinr/-to business.) Elder, from house, Mrs. Dodge and McKeegan. Mrs. D. What's the matter, Zek'l ? Fort. Some water, quick ! Jack Nelson's fainted dead away ! (McK. fetches water. Bringing-to tnisiness. Jack comes to.) jACKifeehfy. Music, rer)/ low). Gone! Gone! My God! Gone! Oil, Jessie, come back to me ! Fort. Jessie gone ! What d'ye mean. Jack ? Jack (showinr/ letter). Read ! I found tiiis here but a moment since. I trust it is not yet too late. She must be stopiied ! (Fortune takes let- ter, puts on spectacles, Priscilla holds lantern.) Fort. Jessie's writin', by jingo ! (7-ertcis.) " Dear Dad — Forgive your little girl for what siie is about to do. I must leave you, dad, for a short time. Believe me, I go witli one in whose honor and integrity I can safely trust. I will explain all later. " Your loving daughter, Jkssie." (Sinks hack on bench, supported hij Pia.snii,L,\ and Jack) My little lamb gone ! gone ! Stolen from her old dad ! OIi. God ! give me strength to bear it ! Gone ! gone ! My Jess ! Father in heaven, I i)ray you watdi over my gal, watch over her ! Bring lier back to me unsullied, untainted by the world's evil ! Gone! gone \(sotis on Jack's shoulder, Priscilla bending over him, McKeeoan sadly watching.) K. McKeegan. Jack. Fortune. Priscilla. l. 18 hick'ry faem. ACT n. Eighteen montlis are supposed to have elapsed between Acts I. and 11. Slow music for curtain after ovei'ture. SCENE. — Fortune's shanty. A poorly-fur nished interior, cracked walls, etc. Fortune discovered seated at fireplace as curtain rises. Fort, (solns). It's time Jack got back. Wonder what is keepin' him. Poor boy ! I hope he's found a job, for Squar' Darkwood said ef the rent warn't paid tliis week, out we'd go. {coughs) My, but it's cold ! 'Pears to me I need a new coat. Ah, times is changed seuce my poor Jess was stole from me. Not a word has she sent me from that day lo this. How like a horrible dream it all seems ! Hick'ry Farm was took from nie. They tole me I owed 'Riah Skinner money. I never owed a cent to any man, 'n I tole 'em so. But 'Riah swore he was right, 'n showed 'em a receipt 'n the title-deed o' Hick'ry Farm ; an' so they tole me I must get out. Then the Mayville Bank was robbed, 'n it went up, 'n all my hard-earned savin's went with it. They accused my Jack o' the rob- bery, but o' course ther warn't no proof to hold him on. An' now the linger o' scorn is p'inted at him, 'n he can earn no money to keep us alive. Oh, that I might awake 'n tind it all a dream ! My God ! what have I done that I should be so punished ? Enter Jack, o., at back. Stands and regards Fortune. Slate music. Jack (aside). Weeping again, poor old man ! How my heart bleeds for him. And no luck, as usual. Why is fate so cruel to us ? How can I tell daddy that I return empty handed ? {coming forward. Aloud) Dadi hairs are not graj'. {looks fiercely at Darkwood.) Dark, {insolently). How dare yon speak to an honest man ? Jack {fiercely). What do you mean ? {faking a stfp nea>-er.) Dark, {nonchalantly, icithout lookinr/ at Jack). Exactly what I say. A thief and scoundrel has not the right to approach a gentleman, much less to Jack {interrupting). You have uttered a deliberate falsehood, and you know it ; and this {striking him) is my answer, you coward, {stands for a moment fearlessly facing Darkwood, then to Fortune) Come, daddy, honest men should not breathe the atmosphere polluted by the presence of such a dastardly villain. {Tlwy exit into room, n. Dark, {solus). The young scam)), I will make him suffer for this if I have to move heaven and earth to do so. Gilbert Darkwood is not the man to be trifled with, as he will find to his sorrow ! (paces stage.) Enter Skinner, c. to L. Skinner, you here ! Well, what do j'ou want ? Skin. Squar', I've been huntin' ye high'n low. I've got a bit o' news to tell ye as'll startle ye some'at. Dark, {impatiently). Well, what is it? Skin. There be a New York detective hore a-lookin' up the Mayville Bank robbery, an' I he;irn tell thet he had found some new evidence. I want to put ye on yer guard, Squar', that's all. Dark. Hush ! {looking ((round) For Heaven's sake, hush ! Skin. Wall, there's no tellin' what might be discovered. These New York fellows be pretty spry, I toll ye. Dark. What sort of a looking man is this detective ? 20 hick'ry farm. Skin. "Wall, he's tall, thin, an' altogether som'at of a swell. Dark. Detective Sergeant Rankin, of the Central Office, as I live! The only man on the force I am afraid of. He knows me ! Yet, in my present rircumstances, 1 doubt whether he would recognize Raljih Douglas, the forger and bank thief. {Uinglis) However, Skinner, it would never do to run any chances, for that man is as keen-eyed as a lynx; he never fails to land his game. We must outwit him, come what may. Skin. We ! What hev I to do with it ? Dark. What have you to do with it? Whj', fool Skin, {iiiterri(pfinij). Yes; did I hev a hand in the bank robbery? Dark. Curse you! No, you coward; you backed down at the last moment, and I had to do it myself. Skin. Well, then, Squar', what hev I to do with it ? Dark. Were I trai)ped, I could easily implicate you as an accomplice. Skin. An' I hev taken good care to be able to jn-ove a' alibi. Dark. Bah ! Enough of this. It must not come to that. This de- tective must be put on a wrong scent. Skin. An' what do you propose to do ? Dark. Skinner, there is but on way to throw this fellow on the wrong scent. We must cast suspicion upon another, and thus save ourselves. That impudent rascal. Nelson, is the man upon whom suspicion would rest if rightly directed. Indeed, I have heard more than one person say that Nelson knew more about the robbery than he pretended to. Once cast popular suspicion upon him, and our task is acconii)iislied. Skin. Yes ; but how do ye mean to lix the guilt on him ? Whar's yer proofs ? Dark. There is exactly where I require your aid. You must swear out an affidavit that on the night of the robbery you saw Nelson hang- ing about the vicinity of the bank in a suspicious manner. To explain your silence until now, you can say that your love for old man Fortune tied your tongue. But what's the matter with you ? Skin, (facing Darkwood, and look i tig fearlessly at him, speaks in a determined tone). Squar' Darkwood, there's much the matter with me, ez ye shall hear. It's nigh onto a year an' a half sence ye tempted me by means of your cussed gold, to rob my old friend Zeke Fortune of all he possessed on airth. that act of mine made you rich, Squar"; a re- spected man in the community; but it made me the most miserable man on the face of the airth. Sence that day my conscience has given me no peace. While the money ye gave me fur my share in the transac- tion made me respected an' looked up to by my neighbors, in my secret heart I despised myself, an' I swore I'd make restitution to Zeke some day, an' so I will. After what I hev just said, do ye thiidv, Squar', I'd do any more of yer dirty work ? No ; let me die first ! Dark, (fercelji). What! you old fool! would you betray me? Skin. Betray you? No; fur there should be honor even among thieves, (slight pause) But sooner than stan' by an' see that young man dragged down to the level of a common thief, I'll tell all I know !' Dark. What ! you infernal idiot ! you would ruin me ! (seizes Skinner by the throat — sfrngglt^ — Skinner sinks to his knees) Curse you ! Let one syllable of what you know cross your li))s, and I swear I'll throttle you, if I have to swing for it ! Come, your answer ; will you keep my secret ? Skin. For heaven's sake, take yer hand away ! Dark. Not until j'ou answer me. Quick ! Skin. I'll keep your secret; I svear it ! Dark, {releasing him). Ha! I thought that would bring you to hick'ry farm. 21 term . Now, mark me, that contemptible puppy, Nelson, must be convicted, on your affidavit, or by heaven I'll strangle you ! {walks to dour, c, ?//rj«ce.s «< Skinner, who is stil on floor, ami exit.) SkI'. {rises, goes to door c, and stands looking off). And now mark me, Gilbert Darkwood, I'll frustrate your schemes ef it costs me my life I {Exit, c, D. Enter Jack, r. d. Puts on hat and muffler while speaking. Jack {solus). Something must be done at once, or to-niglit we will be without shelter. I'll see Squire Smith, Probably he will assist us. [Kcit, L. D. Enter Jessie, c. d. Slow music. Jessie {coming down, slowly). Home again, thank Heaven ! Home ! Ah, what comfort that simple word brings to me ! At last I am with daddy once again I But has he forgiven me ? Oh ! shoukl he spurn, or refuse to recognize me, it would kill me! But no; I distinctly re- member his words on that fatal day, "Jess, ye might load me down with hard words, but in the hour of your trouble my okl arms would be the first to open to you." Dear old daddy, how miserably I have re- paid all your goodness! {sohs. Flute is heard playing "Believe me, if all those endearing young charms." Jessie listens, startled) I sang that to daddy on that last day ! {sobs.) Enter Fomvsv:, r. d., with flute. Fort. Thet old tune awakens mem'ries in me which most drives me mad. Ah, well I remember the last time I sung thet tune, with my innocent little Jess kneelin' beside me, a-cryin' as ef her heart would break. Oh God ! I pray you send my darlin' gal back to me ! Ah, some day she will come; I feel it; I'm sure on't. Jessie {coming foncard). Daddy, your trust has not been misplaced; I am here, home, home again ! Fort. Jessie ! Jessie, my little gal, come back to me ! Oh, the Lord be praised ! the Lord be praised ! (xoJthiug in each others arms.) Jessie. Oh, daddy, can you forgive the wrong I did you? Four. Forgive you, my pet? Why, ther's nothin' to forgive. Oh, Jess, it do feel so natural to have ye near me again ! Wiiy, Jess, j'er old daddy could git right up 'n dance a reg'lar breakdown, he's so hap- py ! An' mebbe Jack won't be delighted ! Jes-sie. Jack, poor fellow ! Fort. Jess, Jack's a brick, thet's what he is ! He's stuck to me all through my troubles, like a Good Samaritan. Jessie. Like the good fellow he always was, bless him ! Too late did I perceive his worth. It was only after my experience with that villain, Darkwood, that I Fort, {interrupting). Darkwood ? Darkwood ? My God ! Child, it can't be the squar' — Gilbert Darkwood ? Jicssie. Daddy, he alone is to blame for all the troublesome past ! Listen, daddy. I met him wlion I visited Nettie Foster, in the city, last winter, and he beguiled m(> into believing that ho loved me. God help me! I felt convinced tliat he spoke tlie tnitii. I next met him on that awful day of over a year ago. Would to heaven that fate had been less cruel. He entreated me to My witli him, and be married in the city on the following day. In my blindness, 1 listened to liis lying words, and 22 hick'ry farm. fled with him to the city. Ere we reached our destination I had dis- covered my blunder, and my eyes were opened to the enormity of what I had done. Shame overwhelmed me; I knew not wliat to do; but I determined to leave Darkwood as soon as we reached the depot; and so I did. While his attention was engrossed with a hackman, I hastily slipped away; and, thank God, I have not seen him from that day to this ! Fort. The villainous rascal ! My poor child ! Jessie. Daddy, I was so tilled with shame that I could not bring my- self to look into your honest face, and I dared not return home. I found employment at a milliner's, and there I plodded my way along, barely making a living, until but one short month ago, when mere chance brought me in "contact with uncle Larry and Aunt Priscilla, who had just returned from Europe. Then I broke down completely, and until a week ago I was unable to leave my bed. Oh, daddy, words cannot describe now I yearned for home and you all those weary, weary months! Then aunt Priscilla determined that I should surprise you ; and, daddy, here /am, and they will be here presently. Oh, daddy, they have been so good to me ! Fort. May God bless them for it ! May God bless them for it ! Jessie. Daddy, dear old daddy, tell me once again that you forgive your little Jess, and love her as well as of old ! Fort. Jessie, ye're dearer to me than ever, insomuch ez I came so near losin' ye ! McKeegan {onlxidf). This is the house. Priscilla, me loife, come on ! Jessie. Here they are now! that's uncle Larry's voice, {opens door.) Enter McKeegan and Priscilla, c. d. McK. Here we are, Jessie ! Why, Zeke, how are ye ? how are ye ? {shake hands.) Fort. Alderman, it be a long time sence we met; how be ye! An' you, Priscilla? Priscilla. Zek'l, my poor brother ! (embraces hivi.) McK. {after n short pause). Foine ! Break away to yer corners ! Fort. Wall, I do declar' to goodness gracious me, it does my old heart good to see ye once more ! How kin I ever thank ye for the kindness ye've shown to my little gal ? God bless ye both ! God bless ye both ! Priscilla, We did no more than our dutj^ Zek'l; so say no more about that. And so this is your home ? {looks about) What a wretched place ! Fort. Wall, it isn't 'zackly Hick'ry Farm, I'll give in, but for a poor man McK. Begorrc, a man oughtn't to be poor long, livin' here. Priscilla. Now what do you mean by that, love ? McK. Why, sure, me own darlint, because it's so draughty ! Priscilla (aside). Now what a delightful pun that is ! Ah, that man is so witty ! (aloud, after an admirinrf look at McKeegan) Poor Zeke ! how you must have suffered ! Squire Smith told us all about it down at the station. But why did you never answer my letters ? Fort. Where was the good of botherin' others with my trouble ? Jessie. Trouble, daddy ! Henceforth may that word have no place in the vocabulary of the Fortune family. Fort. Amen to that, little one ! MoK. Begoira, Zeke, ye may well say amin to that; for as long as hick'ry farm. 23 Larry McKeegan has the price av a whiskey toddy in his pocket, be- gorra, the half av it is yours ! {s(rike.s attitude, and then appears to converse witk Foutune.) Pkiscilla (aside tu Jessie, rapturously). How touching a sentiment! "What a noble man he is ! Oh, Jessie, how I love that man ! I never thought my old heart capable of feeling for any one as I do for him. Tell me candidly, Jessie, do you think he reciprocates my atlection ? Jessie. Why, aunt, does not his every action justify that belief? Priscilla. Ah, Jessie, I have my doubts nevertheless; the alderman is such a terrible llirt ! Jessie. Aunt, how can you think of such a thing ? Pkiscilla. Well, my suspicions are not entirely groundless. It was only the other day a mysterious individual called on the alderman, and unintentionally I overlieard part of their conversation. It was about a woman, and her name was— let me see— Helen, yes, Helen Blazes. Jessie. Aunt, uncle Larry is the most devoted of husbands; you must not let such a thought enter your head. Come, no more of this foolishness; let us take a look about the house. {Exit Jessie, r. As Priscilla is about to leave, McKeegan kisses hand to her. Priscilla {at door, aside, sighi7ig). Ah, with ail his faults, I love liim still ! [Exd, R. McK. {coming down with Fortune). Zek'l, I bless the day that I laid oyes on Prisciily ! Sure, it's a darlint little woife she is — as true an' handsome a woman as iver stood in two shoes. Fort. Wall, now, by gosh ! why shouldn't she be ? She's my sister ! McK. Bedad, Zeke, it's as good as drinkin' a barrel of whiskey to see ye talkin' an' actin' loike the loiglit-hearted Zek'l I used to know ! Fort. Happy ain't the word, Larry — I'm more'n that. I'll be gol- darned ef I don't jest feel like standin' on my hands an" puttin' my feet up ag'in the wall, as 1 used to when I was a boy. Happy ! Jehusefet ! Excuse me one minute ; I can't help it — my feelin's is gettin' the best of me. {(joes to back of stage and executes a pas-seul) There ! (coming down) I feel better now. McK. Bedad, ye dance loike a young buck ! Fokt. Oh, I could allers hold my own at dancin'. McK. {conjidentiallj/). Zeke, are ye able to kape a still tongue in yer head ? (Fortune nods) Then Oi'll tell ye av a bit av a surprise Oi've ar- ranged for Priscilly's birthday, nixt wake, {looks around cautiously) What d'ye think now Oi've bought her ? Fort. Dunno. Can't say. McK. A pony and village cart ! Fort. No ? Do tell ! JHev ye ? McK. It's a mare, an' the swatest little animal je iver sot ojes on. (Pris(;illa opens door, r., and loo/cs /)i) Her hair's as soft as flax, and her big brown oyes are beautiful to behold. Priscilla {aside). Who can Larry be talking about? Fort. Gosh ! she must be a fine one. What's her name ? McK. Sure it's the most comical name ye iver heard av. Faith, slie's called Hell an' Blazes ! {hoth laugh.) Priscilla (aside). That woman again ! Oh, I knew I was right — Lawrence is not true to me; he loves that miserable huzzy, Helen Blazes ! McK. An' ye should see her legs ! — straight an' smooth as an arrow, an' the smallest fut ye iver saw ! 24 hick'ky farm. Priscilla (asidn). Oh, the deceitful wretch ! That I should have put my implicit trust in such a man ! Oh, I hate— I detest — I — I abominate him ! McK. Oi'll be afther bringin' her down here nixt wake. Fort. Why, yes, good ! Do, an' we'll take her out together. Priscilla {aside). And you too, Zek'l ! Oh, you two bald-headed hypocrites ! Fort. Jewhittiker ! but Priscilla will be surprised. Air ye shure she suspects nothin' ? McK. Oh, Oi took good care to kape her in the dark. She's as un- suspectin' av what's goin' on behind her back as a new-born choild. Priscilla (aside). Oh, I can stand this no longer ! {dashiiig open the door and coming dou-n. Aloud) It is false ! false ! Base, perfidious man, I know all ! {strikes attitude.) Fort, {aside to MoKeegan). She's heard all about the surprise ye in- tend givin' her, an' it seems to hev vexed her. McK. {aside). Vexed! Hivin detind us from her anger, if she is only vexed now ! {aloud) Priscilly, me own, what Priscilla. Do not advance another step, j'ou monster! You — .you human Mephistopheles ! You — you miserable man ! I hate you, and never want to see your face again ! Oh, that my love should have had so shameful a return ! {paces stage, gesticulaliiig franticallij. Fortune and McKeegan /ieep pace o)i eacli side of tier, vainli/ endeavoring to pacify Iter. SJie talces no notice of tliem) Oh, what a fool I was to think that that miserable man loved me, when all the while I was but a mere dupe, a toy in his hands, to be tossed about at his will ! Oh, let me but once lay hands on that shameless woman, and I'll scratch her eyes out ! I'll show Helen Blazes what sort of a woman she has to deal with. Oh, my young life is ruined ! ruined ! Oh ! \E,cit, sobbing, e. McKeegan and Fortune contiyiue to loalk np and down as ttiongli Priscilla xcere still with them, then they stop and look at eacli otJier. Fort. Larry McKeegan, yer a fool ! McK. Zeke, I know it. It come natheral to me. I was born that way! Fort. Now, that woman is jest laborin' under some orful delusion, an' et's your duty, ez her husband, to find oTit what's wrong. McK. * But, Zeke, whin Priscilly is excited the divil himsilf couldn't rason wid her. Fort. Larry, et's your duty to find out, an' the sooner the better. McK. But, Zeke, ye don't know Priscilly; whin she's in one av her tantrums, begob, she's dangerous. Fort. Larry McKeegan, kin it be possible that j'er afraid of a weak, harmless woman ? {laughs. McKeegan assumes an air of injured in- nocence.) McK. Afraid, did j'^e say ? Alderman McKeegan, av the tinth ward, afraid av a woman! {forced laugh) Ha, ha, ha! Ye make me laugh. Watch me now, while I beard the lioness in her den. {goes toward door 'With assumed coin-age, ivhisthng. At door he hesitates, looks back at Zeke, icho motions him on) By the way, Zeke, before Oi forgit it, Oi've the best joke ye Fort. This is no time fur jokes; pacify yer wife first. Go along now! MoK. But, ye — (Zeke cuts him short by a motion) Will, thin, since ther's no hiip for it. here goes! [Sighs, dashes open door, and exit, r. Fort, {solus). I declare to goodness gracious me, but wimmin is the hick'ey farm. 25 complexiest macMues ever invented, {knock at dooi\ c) Hello, who may tliet be ? ('joes to door axd opi'us it.) A'//ter Rankin, o. d. Howd'y do, stranger? What can I do fur ye ? Rankin. Mr. Fortune, IbeUeve? Fort. Thet's me. Rank. Mr. Fortune, mj ivaure is Rankin— Detective Ranlun, of tlie Central Ottice, New York city. Allow me, without any furtlier prelimi- nary words, to enter upoji tlie object of my visit. Mr. Fortune, for sometime past 1 liave been employed by the officers of the Majville Savings Bank in sJiadowiug an ex-convict, whom I susi>ecteeit bank thief and forger. After a careful investigation of tlie fads in tJie ease, aini assisted l3y the confes- sion of a former accomj>lice, there is no doubt m. my mind that I have my man safely cornered. He is as slipperj' as an eel, Iwwever, and should he get wind of anytliing, all would l>e lost. Mr. Fortune, it is witli your assistance that he must be eiitrapi>eil. Four. With n)3- assistanoe ? I don^t understated y^. Rank. When I contide to you the name of my intended prisoner, you will be better able to comprehend me. Ralph Douglas, the bank thief and forger, and Gilbert Daiiwood, tlie ridi and respectable gentleman, are the same i)erson 1 FoKj'. Ye alinof-l take uiy bi-eath away with siin)iise; an' yit it oughtn't to, fui- 1 know thet man to be tl»e nwst blaek-feearted scoundrel on the face of this aiith. Rank. Your reasons for thinking so will be strengthened when you hear what I have to say fiuther. But this is ko place for such disclos- ures as I have to make ; we detectives aiLsti-ast the veiy walls. Have you no more secludetl room than this ? FoKT. Why, yes; jest walk in ther; (^weVi^/w^ l.) ye can si:»eak yer mind ther without fear of intrusion. Rank. Very well; let us enter. iRceunt, v. Enter, c, Ja