EARNING A LIVING: 
 
 3, Corne&s, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY A CITIZEN OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 Ncto-Dork : 
 
 PUDNKY & RUSSELL, PRINTERS, 
 
 No. 79 John-Street. 
 
 
 
EARNING A LIVING: 
 
 3t fiomeftj), 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY A CITIZEN OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 
 Neco-Dork: 
 
 PUDNBY & RUSSELL, PRINTERS 
 
 No. 79 JOHN-STREBT. 
 
 T 
 

 
 TMPS6-0Q7252 
 
emen. 
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 Robert Holltbush, a retired merchant of New-York. 
 Jacob Hollybush, his unmarried brother. 
 
 Rupert Hat, > r asUonaUe youny gent i ei 
 
 Hartinoton, ) J 
 
 Glumley, a magazine editor. 
 
 Barbow, a writer. 
 
 Vansittart, a New- York lawyer. 
 
 Mary L ° TTE ' } dau S hters °f R - Holll J bush - 
 Mr. and Mrs. Campion. 
 Minetta, their daughter. 
 Miss Dubarre, an heiress. 
 Duperu, a broker. 
 
EARNING A LIVING 
 
 A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Old Hollybush's house. R. H. reading. {Enter Jacob.) 
 
 Jacob. Good morning, brother. 
 
 R. H. Good morning, Robert, how are you ? 
 
 J. Well, I thank you ; how is all within ? are the family well ? 
 
 R. Yes, very. I'm sorry I can't inquire after yours. 
 
 J. That's rather late. I've been a bachelor so long now, I never think of it 
 unless you remind me of it, and when you do, 1 don't take it kindly. 
 
 R. What news out ? 
 
 J. The steamer is in, cotton is up and flour down. Nothing else of import- 
 ance. I saw Vansittart just now. 
 
 R. Well, what did he say ? 
 
 J. He said he had drawn up all those contracts just as we directed, and had 
 them ready for signing. He is very diligent in such matters. 
 
 R. Yes, I think he is. 
 
 J. And then he told me an odd conversation he had yesterday about you, with 
 a man named Glumly. 
 
 R. Glumly, Glumly — I don't know such a man. 
 
 J. No, but Glumly knows you, or would know you. He wants to marry 
 one of my nieces. 
 
 R. Oh, that's all, is it ? and he expects a reasonable dowry, I suppose, does 
 he not? 
 
 J. Undoubtedly ; but what I like is, he is plain spoken and says so. He 
 says in plain terms he wants money, and would be glad to get some in this way. 
 
 R. That's honest, or at least impudent. Which of my daughters does he 
 honor with a preference ? 
 
 /. He leaves that to you. He will take whichever you will pay best to be 
 rid of. He says he understands one has been crazy ; he will take that one if 
 you choose. 
 
 R. Crazy, Jacob ! one of my daughters crazy ! — What the devil does the 
 fellow mean ? 
 
 J. Oh, I suppose it is some story grown out of poor Charlotte's delirium 
 last year when she had the fever at Saratoga. That's nothing ; Mr. Glumly 
 gets his information in bar-rooms, or at the Racket Court, where it is apt to be 
 old and a little exaggerated. 
 
 R Not at the Union Club, you think. 
 
 J. No ; we always have it there fresh and genuine. 
 
 R. And plenty. 
 
 J. Yes, that is undeniable. 
 
 R. But who is Mr. Glumly ? 
 
 J. He is one of those damned fellows that make books, and set up news- 
 papers and magazines. And he has talent they say, too. 
 
6 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 R. It does not appear in wbat be said to Vansittart. 
 
 J. No, perhaps not. But you know, knowing V. to be your legal adviser, 
 and presuming therefore a sort of intimacy, he goes there to sound, and talks 
 this kind of stuff in a joking kind of way, ready to back it up with earnest if he 
 could find encouragement. His object was to get introduced. 
 
 R. Vansittart won't do that. 
 
 J. Not for his ears. 
 
 {Enter John, announcing Mr. and Mrs Campion. Enter the ladies.) 
 
 R. H. and J. H. Good morning, ladies. 
 
 Mrs. C. Good morning, gentlemen ; are the young ladies within ? 
 
 R. H. I believe not, but John is gone to see. Will you take chairs? 
 
 Mrs. C. I met Charlotte walking this morning, but that was an hour ago. 
 She looked beautiful, and so thought her beau. 
 
 R. H. What beau 1 
 
 Mrs. C Oh, a very pleasant one, and one who admires Charlotte more than 
 words can express. 
 
 /. H. Words can express a good deal. 
 
 Mrs C. That depends on who uses them. You would express a good deal, 
 if you put your talent to it, I am sure. 
 
 /. H. JDon't give me too much encouragement, or I may try it upon Miss 
 Minetta. 
 
 Mrs. C Oh, Minetta is too obdurate. All her school friends are married off, 
 and she won't quit her single blessedness. 
 
 R H. But who is this beau of Charlotte's — this admirer ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, a very clever, talented person indeed, and a great friend of 
 mine, Mr. Glumly. 
 
 R. H. Mr. Glumly ? why, where did he get acquainted with my daughter ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, last evening at my house. He is there constantly. He comes 
 to all our reading parties. Reads us his own verses, too, sometimes; he writes 
 poetry like an angel. 
 
 R. H. Made his acquaintance last evening, and joins her in Broadway this 
 morning. No need of Vansittart now, eh, Jacob. 
 
 /. H. No, it seems not. 
 
 (Enter John.) 
 
 John. The young ladies are both out, Ma'am. [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. C. Ah ! both out; I'm sorry. Good morning, gentlemen. 
 
 [ Exit with Minetta. 
 
 R. H. Well, Jacob, this Glumly stock is rising. Mrs. Campion praises 
 everybody, and always has a lot of pet phenixes of her own, and on them she 
 lays it on double. But the man must be an absolute idiot to talk as he did to 
 Vansittart. 
 
 J. H. I tell you, Robert, that was a coarse joke. It was bad taste, and bad 
 enough to prejudice us strongly against the man ; but if he comes here, do not 
 kick him out of doors. 
 
 R. H. Well, perhaps not. In the mean time do you take Mrs. Campion's 
 hints, and lay siege to Minetta, the obdurate. 
 
 J. H. I'll think about it. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Room in the same. Charlotte and Mart at a table, with books 
 
 and needle-work. 
 
 Mary. Charlotte, why did'nt you go down to receive Mrs. Campion's 
 visit ? 
 
 C. I was occupied here, and besides I don't like her. 
 
 M. But you ought to like her. You are such a particular favorite of hers. 
 
 C. Yes, 1 know. In her emphatic way, such a parleecular favorite. — So is 
 everybody else in turn. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 7 
 
 M. But you like Minetta. 
 
 C. Yes, much better. She has not the same faults as her mother. 
 
 M. No, her mother has one that would fit her awkwardly. 
 
 C. Which one ? 
 
 M. Manoeuvring to get her a husband. 
 
 C Yes, that is true. If Mrs. Campion would have been quiet, Minetta 
 would have been married years ago. I wonder if she will succeed with uncle 
 Jacob ? 
 
 M. Aunt Minetta ! That would sound oddly. But we might fare worse. 
 She is a nice enough girl and has a fair fortune. Uncle Jacob might do much 
 worse. 
 
 C. What I dislike in Mrs. Campion, is her eternally talking to me about 
 beaux. Beaux — beaux — I hate the word, don't you, Mary ? 
 
 Mary. Why so, dear Charlotte ? 
 
 C. It is a vulgar, cant expression. It is worn out. It don't mean a gentle- 
 man now ; it means a common fellow made fine for a holiday. Chambermaids 
 have beaux. 
 
 M. Mrs. Campion says, Mr. Glumly is a first rate beau. 
 
 C. Yes, that makes it perfect. First rate beau — I shan't want to see him 
 again these two months. 
 
 M. She said the same thing of Hartington. That ought to coaciliate you. 
 
 C. No. I would as lief she should have called him a jack-pudding. 
 
 M. And the same of Rupert Hay ; but that was to Papa. I wish she had 
 said anything else, for Papa's whole objection to both him and Hartington might 
 be summed up in that very idea. He thinks they are first rate beaux, and doei 
 not believe they can ever be anything else. 
 
 C. Ah, Mary, don't let's talk about our troubles. 
 
 {Enter Hartington.) 
 
 H'n. Good morning, ladies. 
 C. &' M. Good morning, Mr. Hartington. 
 M. We were just speaking of you. 
 
 H'n. Then you put me among troubles, for I caught the last word. 
 M. You are among our causes of trouble — you and Rupert Hay. But if ycu 
 had any grace about you, you would be thankful and not sarcastic. 
 H'n- Dear lady, so I am. But has anything new occurred ? 
 
 C. No. My father is a reasonable man, and does not break out often into 
 novelties. But he keeps up the old song — 
 
 M. Ye are idle, ye are idle. — Pharaoh's ditty. 
 
 H'n. It's very hard. What would he have me do, or Rupert Hay, either T 
 We cannot make bricks. 
 
 D. Not without straw. 
 
 Hn. No, nor with straw, by any process 1 know of. 
 
 C. Straw is figurative. It means talents and industry. 
 
 M. And bricks are figurative. They mean meiiey. 
 
 Hn. And so I am to make money like bricks, before your father will sanc- 
 tion my pretensions here, (taking C'sh&nd.) Is that it? 
 
 C. In some measure. But, Hartington, do not think me too calculating ; 
 but I really wish you had a profession. 
 
 Hn. Why, I profess a great deal. 
 
 M. But you do nothing, and my father hates you. I do believe it, he is 
 civil to you, and indulgent and confiding to us, but I believe he actually hates 
 you. 
 
 (Enter Jacob Holltbush.) 
 
 M. (runs to meet him.) Come in, uncle Jacob. There, now, he proves 
 what I was saying. Uncle, you see Mr. Hartington there ? 
 J. H. Yes, certainly. 
 
8 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 M. Well now, tell me the truth, don't you hate him ? 
 
 J. H. Hate him ! 
 
 M. Yes, uncle, you understand me. Don't you detest him ? abominate- 
 him ? don't he make you sick ? would'nt you like to choke him ? 
 
 /. H. Why, dear Mary, what possesses you ? 
 
 M. Why, dear uncle, I heard you say all this of a group of young men at a 
 party the other night. Mr. Hartington was not one, but he might have been. 
 
 ./. H. No, Mary, he might not. 1 understand you now ; but Mr. Hartington 
 is not one of the tribe I was abusing that night. 
 
 M. What's the difference? It was idleness you abused them for. 
 
 J H. My good niece, those fellows make hourly publication of their idleness. 
 They are always in sight, and all their daily actions, and all their ideas, too, 
 might be printed, if the reporters pleased, in the Elerald. But I 4 think it would 
 not pay. 
 
 C. But this does not apply to Mr. Hartington. 
 
 /. H. No, certainly. Mr. Hartington is seen in society, but he lives his life 
 with a certain reserve, which is his own. Neither you nor I, nor the public, 
 have the right to say he is idle. 
 
 H'n. You see, Miss Mary, your uncle is a shrewd censor, but not an indis- 
 criminate one. But Mr. Hollybush, I suppose I know the persons you point at, 
 and I don't like them, but yet I don't particularly wish to choke them. 
 
 /. H. Nor I, not literally ; but there were two or three in the group in 
 question who deserved it. Fellows once without a rap, that have married ugly 
 heiresses, and have associated ever since exclusively with horses, and two or 
 three more that bide their time, in hopes to do the same. 
 
 M. One married a very pretty heiress. 
 
 /. H. Yes, and behaved worst of all — wasted her property and broke her 
 heart. I tell you, niece, this life of a young shark which your needy man of 
 fashion leads, makes him intensely selfish ; and when some generous woman 
 overlooks disparities from a romantic impulse, and marries him, she is sure to 
 rue it bitterly. 
 
 H'n. Well. I leave my character in your hands — I must be going. 
 
 C Which way ? 
 
 H'n. I am going to look up Rupert Hay. I have not seen him these three 
 days. 
 
 M. Well, when you find him, you need not bring him here, you know. 
 
 H y n. I am perfectly aware of that. [Exit,. 
 
 M. Ah, uncle Jacob, you are twenty years younger than Papa. Hartington 
 and Rupert Hay are no better in his eyes than the young sharks you were de- 
 scribing. 
 
 ./• H. Never believe it, Mary. Both those young men are known to have 
 the means of living. Their existence is not a mystery, like the fellows one sees 
 here and there, who have white gloves and saddle horses plenty, and nobody can 
 contrive how they are paid for. 
 
 C. I wonder what Papa would think of Mr. Glumly. 
 
 J. H. Very much what you would think of a rattlesnake. How came you 
 to know him ? 
 
 C. I met him last night at Mrs. Campion's. 
 
 J. H. So she told me. But how come he to be introduced to you 1 
 C. Oh, naturally enough — unavoidably, indeed — the party was so small. But 
 I had no objections. 
 
 J. H. Well, it's no very great matter, but the man's reputation is a disagree- 
 able one. He is a scandalous and insincere flatterer, and a bit of a viper. 
 M. That is severe. 
 
 /• H. Not too much so. He has been known to take a spite at a lady, and 
 show her up in one of his cursed papers or magazines for a month together. 
 That was in New-Orleans, but the fact is certain. 
 C. That is odious, indeed. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. V 
 
 J. H. Never mind. He is said to be amusing in society and must be toler- 
 ated, unless he should do something of the same sort here 
 M. I hope we shall not furnish the occasion. 
 
 C. I hope not. But come, let's go dress for dinner. Good-bye, uncle. 
 J. H. Good-bye. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Rupert Hat's rooms. — Hay and Glumly at table, as after 
 dinner. (Enter Hartington.) 
 
 Hn. So, Rupert, where have you been so long? 
 
 Hay. Oh, I had letters to write, and have stirred abroad very little lately. 
 
 Hn. I have orders to send you to a certain lady. At least I am ordered 
 not to brine; you to her, which I suppose means I am to send you. 
 
 Hay. Yes, I understand, I suppose. 
 
 Glumly. Well, I don't ; but don't let me detain you. 
 
 Hay. Well, if you'll allow Hartington to take my place, I will leave you for 
 an hour or two. 
 
 Glumly. Certainly, [pours out wine,) think no more about us. Are you dis- 
 disengaged, Mr. Hartington ? f Exit Hay. 
 
 Hn. Yes ; I believe so. [Sits down. 
 
 Glumly. Is it a secret, where our friend is gone ? 
 
 Hn. Yes, for the present it is — at least I cannot tell you. 
 
 G. Mrs. Campion is going to give a party. 
 
 Hn. So I hear. A grand ball, and the first of the season. 
 
 G. Grand balls are getting to be a serious matter. 
 
 Hn. Yes, for people who have small houses. New- York is a large city. 
 
 G. There was a time when all the well-bred and well-dressed people of 
 New- York could be squeezed into two rooms ; but I think the City Hall would 
 hardly hold them now. 
 
 Hn. What induces Mrs. Campion to give a ball? 
 
 G. It is Minetta's fifth winter — the winter of her discontent. 
 
 Hn. But Minetta is very pretty, and an heiress too, more or less. What 
 needs she be discontented ? 
 
 G. That is. why don't she console herself with some fine fellow. Marry 
 you, or me, and have done with it ? Is that your question? 
 
 Hn. No. I question the fact of her being discontented. When one sees 
 what a lottery marriage is for a woman, onemay believe that some are afraid of it. 
 
 G. It's a lottery for us, too. 
 
 Hn. But we choose our tickets, and we have a better list to choose from, too, 
 than they, even if they could choose. I he women of America are immeasur- 
 ably superior to the men. 
 
 G. So I told Mrs. Campion last night. But her husband contradicted me. 
 I said ladies were much less rare than gentlemen, and he did not convince me of 
 the contrary. 
 
 Hn. I scarcely know him. He seems a dull, quiet man. 
 
 G. So he does. But you must not judge rashly. He tells me he once said 
 a very witty thing. 
 
 Hn. Indeed! What was it? 
 
 G. Someihing that flashed upon him at the moment. He had forgot what 
 it was, but I took his word for it. 
 
 Hn. He has one good quality. He adores his wife. 
 
 G. Yes, he told me she was now in the flower of her age — at her perigee — 
 at her most perfect point of developement of mind and person. 
 Hn. And what said you to that? 
 
 G. I said nothing. But I thought it was a pretty prospect for him for the 
 future. 
 
 Hn. Oh, he is reasonable. He 
 
 " Does not expect in December 
 The flowers he gathers in June. 
 
10 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 G. July, August — nay, September or October. Were you at the Opera 
 on Monday ? 
 
 H'n. No. 
 
 G. The Campions were there. Minetta has a pretty mouth. 
 
 H'n. Yes, but I never should have remarked that particularly at the Opera, 
 
 G. Oh, she makes it very conspicuous there. She puckers it up to show 
 her immense delight. She appears to be sucking the honey of the music, like 
 Ophelia. 
 
 H'n. Why she does not know one tune from another. 
 
 G. I know that — she told me so herself. And vet a week after, she began a 
 rigmarole one day to me about contraltos and bassos, and the devil knows what, 
 but full of entusymusy. I stopped her, and put her in mind of her confession. 
 
 H'n. What did she say to that ? 
 
 G. Oh, she got out of it well. She paused a minute, then laughed, and said 
 well, you know we must talk this kind of stuff. 
 
 H'n. That is the principle that supports the Opera. 
 
 {Enter Rupert Hat.) 
 
 Hay. Well, I've had my walk for my pains. Nobody visible. 
 
 H'n. Th&t's odd ; but you must not blame me. I really thought my orders 
 were positive. 
 
 Hay. I saw Vansittart. He wants to see you to-morrow. 
 
 G I like Vansittart. 
 
 H'n. I did not know you liked anybody. 
 
 G. I like Vansittart. He gives good dinners, when he gives any ; no pre- 
 tension ; one or two persons ; wine plenty, and he does not interrupt the con- 
 versation. 
 
 H'n. Why, you don't mean to say he can't talk ? 
 
 G. No, but he is civil ; he is good-natured enough, or flatterer enough always 
 to give way when other people want to talk. It's astonishing the good-will he 
 wins by it. 
 
 Hay. All the HoIIybushes like him prodigiously. 
 
 G. Yes — so I hear ; and he returns their admiration with devotion. He 
 shops for the ladies and picks up gossip, brings news of the markets and what 
 not to the men, and would wash dishes, run of errands and black shoes, if they 
 desire it. He is the walking shadow of a Hollybush. 
 
 Hn. He is a very honest, respectable, sterling fellow. 
 
 G. No doubt of it. But he ought to respect himself. Yesterday I amused 
 myself with talking profanely to him about that family, and saying I meant to 
 m.ike my fortune by marrying one of them. 
 
 H'n. Indeed — and how did he take that ? 
 
 G. Indeed — upon my word — very much as you seem to take it. It aston- 
 ished him very decidedly. 
 
 H'n. Some things are really astonishing. 
 
 G. So they are, to some people. I know an old gentleman who used to be 
 cast into extacies every day by reading the Express. 'Twas his turn of mind ; 
 the older he grew the more he doated on it. Don't be angry. It was not Mr. 
 Hollybush. 
 
 Hn. I presume not. 
 
 G. Old age has some strange ways with it. To-day I saw two old ladies at 
 the crossing of a puddle. One had got over and was reaching back to help the 
 other. The other raised her petticoats with one hand, then thought the step 
 too long, and walked round still holding them up over dry ground. In the mean 
 time her friend kept one arm in the air to help her ; it took a minute or two to 
 get their old arms back to their places from any movement once made. 
 
 Hay. You are a close observer. 
 
 Hn. Did you not think, while you were noting all that, that you might one 
 day be old yourself? 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 11 
 
 G. Not an old woman. 
 
 H'n. I won't guarantee that. There is no telling what your love of gossip 
 and showing up your friends and neighbours may come to at last. 
 
 G. That's savage. It is time for me to go. [Exit. 
 
 Hay. What's the use, Harrington 1 
 Hn. Damn the fellow. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— Mrs. Campion's house. Mrs. C. and Minetta at a table with 
 
 writing materials. 
 
 Minetta. Give me some more envelopes. 
 
 Mrs. C There they are. 
 
 Min. These have cards already in them. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, they only want the addresses. 
 
 Min. Read on. 
 
 Mrs. C Mrs. Bottilow and Miss Bottilow. 
 
 Min. (writing on a note.) Very well. 
 
 Mrs. C. Mrs. Battersou and the Misses Batterson. 
 
 Min. Very well. What a host of women. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, we shall want a great many beaux. 
 
 Min. Go on. 
 
 Mrs. C. Mr. and Mrs. Batterlay. That ends letter B. 
 
 Min. (counting.) Twenty notes in letters A. and B. How many names 
 are there in our visiting list? 
 
 Mrs. C. About a hundred and fifty. 
 
 Min. And fifty or sixty beaux, will make two hundred invitations to send out. 
 We shall invite at least four hundred people. 
 
 Mrs. C Nearer five. 
 
 Min. Three or four people promised to come this morning and help me 
 write invitations. Oh, herejs Mr. Jacob Hollybush. 
 
 (Enter J. H.) 
 
 J. H. Good morning, ladies. Can 1 be of any use ? 
 
 Min. Yes, take this, and sit down and write those names on these notes. 
 There, that finishes down to letter S. Now I'll go on from these. Read, 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. C. Miss Sellison. 
 
 Min. (roriting a note.) I don't see the use of inviting her. 
 
 Mrs. C Why not ? 
 
 Min. She is not ornamental, and she is not agreeable, and she never gives 
 parties herself. People that move in society ought to contribute in some way 
 to its pleasures. 
 
 J. H. Miss Sellison is my aversion. 
 
 Min. I knew it. I was abusing her to please you. 
 
 J. H. You have a singular faculty, Miss Minetta, of saying and doing things 
 that please me. If I should begin to thank you for it, I don't know where I 
 should stop. 
 
 Min. Suppose you try, and go on till I stop you. 
 
 J. H. Not before witnesses. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Dubarre and Glumly. Salutations exchanged) 
 
 Min. Oh, Mrs. Dubarre, we are almost done. How come you so late ? 
 Mrs. D. Oh, Mr. Glumly would have me to stop at the Art Union. But 
 the pictures are half gone. 
 
 Min. Mr. Glumly, you drew a picture, did not you ? 
 
 G. Yes, one of Cole's — it is capital. 
 
 Min. You will have Mr. Vansittart to see you. He is picture mad. 
 
 G. Very like, but he has seen this, you know at the Union. 
 
12 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Min. (having addressed notes from time to time with the list of names in her 
 hand, stops and hands it to her mother.) Mother shall we ask that lady ? 
 
 Mrs. D. What lady? Come, no mysteries here; we'll all give you an 
 opinion. 
 
 Mm. Mrs. Vindoboni, Jane Brinton, you know. 
 
 Mrs. D. Why not ? 
 
 Min. Nobody knows anything about her husband. 
 
 Mrs. D. Then nobody knows any barm of him. 
 
 J. H. Yes— I do. 
 
 Mrs. C. What is it ? 
 
 J. H. He is poor. 
 
 G. So am I. 
 
 Mrs. C. We won't exclude you on that account, any way. 
 
 Mrs. D. No, the rich in brains Halleck says, are a strong antithesis to the 
 poor in pocket. 
 
 Min. Weil, there's a note for the Vindobonis. Mr. and Mrs. Weeple — 
 
 Mrs. C. Leave them out. 
 
 Mrs. D. Why so ? they have a fine house. 
 
 /. H. And they are very decent, quiet people. 
 
 G. If they are quiet, they are so far well bred. 
 
 Mrs. C. T don't like people blazing out so suddenly. And they say the 
 Weepies came out of a rat-hole. 
 
 G. They did, and they brought a lighted candle. It would have been wiser 
 to emerge by degrees. 
 
 /. H. Come, come, I give my vote for the Weepies. There's a note for 
 them. They have cash, and they are willing to spend it ; and tnere is no special 
 objection to them. (Looking over the notes in the basket.) So. old Tom 
 Pudney gets an invitation. I should like to know what for? 
 
 Mrs. C. So should I. 
 
 J- H. Tom has so established the fact that he goes everywhere, that now 
 you can't leave bim out. He circulates on the merits of the good wine and 
 venison he has consumed. 
 
 G. Pudney is the residuum of a thousand dinners. 
 
 J. H. Exactly ; or ten thousand as the case may be. But what is this ? here 
 are twenty or thirty notes not directed. 
 
 Min. Oh, those are for Mr. Brown. 
 
 / H. Thirty notes to one gentleman? 
 
 Min. Yes ; and yet he is not invited. 
 
 J. H. Why, who is Mr. Brown ? 
 
 Mrs- D. Oh. Mr. Hollybush, don't expose your ignorance. 
 
 Mrs. C. He is Sacristan of Grace Church 
 
 Mrs. D. Seneschal. 
 
 Min. Marshal — or, more quaintly, beadle. 
 
 G Vulgarly, sexton. 
 
 J- H. I'm adrift, more than ever. 
 
 Mrs. C. Why, Mr. Hollybush, there are two sorts of men in society. 
 
 J. H. At least. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, but this is the grand division — gentlemen and Mr. Brown's 
 men. 
 
 J. H. Well, the gentlemen I know ; now who are Mr. Brown's men ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Why, you know, Mr. Brown takes out the invitations. Well, we 
 send him at the same time an order for thirty beaux, or as many as we want, 
 and the notes with it. Well, he invites them from his list. Those are Mr. 
 Brown's men. 
 
 J- H He keeps the list, and puts names on and off as he pleases. 
 
 Mrs. C. Certainly ; according as they behave. Now, the gentlemen who 
 come to my party know my family, and observe some rules of politeness in 
 speaking to me when they come in, and in calling afterwards. But Mr. Brown's 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 13 
 
 men are under no such obligations; they come and go like the fiddlers; they 
 are of use in the dance, and they get their pay out of the supper, and there is an 
 end. 
 
 J H. What a beautiful and independent position ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Well, this seems to be all done. 
 
 Min. All but the sealing. 
 
 Mrs. D. Well, you and Mr. Hollybush can do that. I want your mother 
 and Mr. Glumly to walk out with me. 
 
 Mrs. C. Shopping? 
 
 Mrs. D. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. C. With pleasure. I have something to do myself; come this way; 
 my hat is below. Be very prudish with Mr. Hollybush, Minetta. 
 
 Min. Yes, mamma. [Exeunt Mrs C, Mrs. D., and Glumly. 
 
 (Minetta brings a lighted candle and sealing wax.) 
 
 J. H. Now, Miss Minetta, there are no witnesses. 
 
 Min. No, but all you say now must be sealed to. 
 
 J. H. No doubt {takes her hand and kisses it.) This is a seal and also a 
 sign. I hope you understand it. 
 
 Min. I don't, indeed. 
 
 J. H. I'm sorry. I have much to say to you, if you only would understand 
 me ; but if you begin by refusing, I despair. 
 
 Min. I don't refuse. But really I can't guess riddles. I'd rather go on 
 sealing my notes. 
 
 J. H. Minetta, you are right. You cannot guess riddles, and I ought not to 
 expect it of you. But I am agitated, anxious. (Takes her hand.) I ask you for 
 this hand, Minetta. You understand me now. Give me a gentle answer. 
 
 Min. What do you offer me in exchange for it ? 
 
 J. H. A thousand thanks, in the first place, that you do not withdraw it. I 
 offer a whole heart and the devotion of a life. 
 
 Min. It shall be yours. I am sure you will give me more than it is worth. 
 
 [/. H. falls on his knees. Scene closes. 
 
 Scene V. — Another room in Campion's house. Mr. Campion walking up and 
 down. Rings the Bell. 
 
 Mr. C. Robert. 
 
 (Enter Robert.) 
 R. Sir ? 
 
 Mr. C. When did Mrs. Campion go out? 
 R. About two hours since, sir. 
 Mr. C. Did she say when she would be home ? 
 R. She is home, sir; she came in half an hour ago. 
 Mr. C. Oh, call her then, and send up dinner. I am in a hurry. 
 R. Yes, sir. [Exit 
 
 Mr. O. Shopping, no doubt. Bills to come in at dinner time — bundles to be 
 unpacked, and examined, and paid for, while the soup gets cold. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. C.) 
 
 Mrs. C Oh, my dear Josey, I have the greatest news for you. 
 
 Mr. C Well, dear, out with it. 
 
 Mrs. C. What do you think has happened ? 
 
 Mr. C. The devil ! I don't know — why don't you tell me, or else let it 
 alone? 
 
 Mrs. C. Only guess, now — guess once, and I'll tell you. 
 
 Mr. C. Guess, the devil ! what cursed nonsense, tc ask a man to guess what 
 has happened. Speak out, you great baby, and don't humbug. 
 
 Mrs. C. Minetta's engaged. 
 
14 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Mr. C. Engaged ! — that is news indeed, but to whom ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Guess. 
 
 Mr. C. Guess ! Damnation, Mrs. Campion, (raising his fist,) tell me at 
 once, who it is. Is this an ocasion to trifle with me ? Is it Jacob Hollybush 1 
 
 Mrs. C Yes 
 
 Mr. C. A good, sound, sensible choice — a thorough going honest fellow, a 
 true gentleman — a man of established character and fortune. 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, I'm overjoyed. 
 
 Mr. C. When did this take place ? 
 
 Mrs. C. This morning. I left them together sealing notes for the party, and 
 when I came back an hour after, there was the candle burnt down almost to the 
 socket — not a note sealed, and Minetta in a brown study, all alone. 
 
 Mr. C Well. 
 
 Mrs. C. Well, and she told me all about it, and I kissed her and blessed 
 her, and told her I hoped she would be happy. 
 
 Mr C. That was all very proper. 
 
 Mrs. C. Then I took all these notes of invitations and put them in the fire, 
 for what's the use of our giving parties after Minetta 's engaged? 
 
 Mr. C. By Jove, that showed presence of mind. But it won't do to give 
 the public that reason. 
 
 Mrs. C. No, and so I'm going to put it on aunt Rossie's death. 
 
 Mr. C. Nobody knows we had such an aunt- 
 
 Mrs. C. No, but we will tell them ; and I have charged Minnetta that her 
 engagement must be kept secret a week. 
 
 (Enter Robert.) 
 R. Dinner is on the table, sir. 
 Mr. C. Very well. Call Miss Minetta. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Glumlt's Apartments. Glumly alone. (Enter Vansittart.) 
 
 G. Oh, Mr. Vansittart, I'm glad to see you. Somebody told me you would 
 soon be along this way to see my new picture. 
 
 V. Oh, it is not that. I've seen it often. But I want to borrow from you 
 a volume of Retsch's Outlines. 
 
 G. With pleasure. (Takes down the book and gives it him.) How is the 
 weather out ? 
 
 V. It don't actually rain yet. 
 
 G. When have you seen Hartington? 
 
 V. I saw him yesterday. 
 
 G. Do you know, I have strong suspicions that Hartington is going in for 
 one of the Miss Hollybuslies ? 
 
 V. He could not do a better thing. 
 
 G. But would he succeed ? 
 
 V. I can't say that. I am the old man's counsel — not the young ladies'. 
 
 G. The old man will have a word to say in that matter I fancy, and per- 
 haps his counsel too. If I had designs there, I would pay well for your good 
 word. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. ' 15 
 
 V. Thank you ; but you may rely on it, it would not be of any use to you. 
 {Looks out at the window.) It rains a little. I must cover up this book. ( Takes 
 out his handkerchief, and pulls out with it a note which falls on the floor.) Good 
 morning. [Exit. 
 
 G. He cut that pretty short. But he don't deny that Harrington is in for 
 it. (Sees the note and picks it up.) Ah, what's this ? (Reads.) " Dear V — 
 I have just had another talk with Hay, and he urges me to write you again. 
 We must have the money. Can you raise it for us by Thursday ? Yours, 
 Harrington." Now, here's something. But whcre's Vansittart ? (Looks out at 
 the window.) Still standing in the door. (Calls) Holla, Vansittart, come up, 
 and I'll give you an umbrella. 
 
 (Re-enter Vansittart.) 
 
 G. 1 would have brought it down, but I wanted to ask you if I had got this 
 picture in the right light. There — (moves 1dm back and forth before the picture, 
 and takes an opportunity to slip the note into his pocket.) What do you think ? 
 
 V. It could not be better. 
 
 G. I'm glad you think so. Won't you stay awhile ? It rains fast. 
 
 V. No ; thank you. I have an appointment. [Exit. 
 
 G. There. He little thinks he has told me that secret. Now let us con- 
 sider what use can be made of it. (Sits down.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene II. — Old Holltbush's house. Old H. at table as ajter dinner. 
 Jacob H. going out. 
 
 Jacob ! 
 
 What, brother? (returning.) 
 You'll be here again bye and bye. 
 
 Yes ; we ought to go to Vansittart's office this afternoon. 
 Very well. 
 
 (Enter John with a card) 
 
 The gentleman is waiting below, sir. 
 Is he ? (hands the card to J. H) What do you think of that ? 
 Mr. Glumly ! 1 don't know. Did he ask for you? 
 Yes ; it seems so. Eh, John ? 
 Y es, sir. 
 
 Show him up. Has he come to ask for my crazy daughter? 
 Nonsense, Robert. I have seen the man a good deal within the last 
 day or two, and he is not the fool that Vansittart made him out. 
 O. H. Very well. We shall see. [Exit Jacob. 
 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Mr. Hollybush, I beg pardon ; perhaps I am intruding at an inconve- 
 nient time. 
 
 O. H. Not at all, sir. Pray be seated. Did you wish to speak with me, 
 sir ? 
 
 G. Yes, sir. I wish to ask the favor of a little advice from you. But I 
 suppose you are often troubled in this way, and you ought to be allowed to 
 choose your own hours to attend to such requests. 
 
 O. H. I am quite at your service now, sir. If the matter in question is one 
 where my advice can be useful to you, you shall have it. 
 
 G. I believe, sir, you are a director in the Quondac Iron and Coal Com- 
 pany ; are vou not ? 
 
 O. H. Yes, sir. 
 
 G. It is not for myself I ask the question. If I were to invest my own 
 
 0. 
 
 H. 
 
 ./. 
 
 H. 
 
 
 
 H. 
 
 ./. 
 
 H. 
 
 o. 
 
 H. 
 
 John. 
 
 0. 
 
 H. 
 
 ./. 
 
 H. 
 
 0. 
 
 H. 
 
 John. 
 
 0. 
 
 H. 
 
 ./. 
 
 H. 
 
16 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 money, I think I know enough about the Company now not to hesitate. But 1 
 am called on to advise another. That is a more delicate matter you know, sir. 
 
 O. H. Yes, sir. 
 
 G. There is a widow lady, a friend of mine, who has $3,000 to invest, and 
 the stock of this Company has been recommended to her, partly, I believe, on 
 the strength of your example. 
 
 O. H. I took $10,000. 
 
 G. So we heard ; and my friend hearing that, was disposed to invest her 
 little fund at once. But I persuaded her to let me come and see you first, and 
 ask you whether you thought that stock one of those sure things to which those 
 who cannot bear a loss ought to confine themselves ? 
 
 O. H. I think it very good and very safe stock. 
 
 G. Yes, sir ; but pardon me ; a man with many investments made with 
 judgment, may regard them all together as safe, and be quite right. But he 
 would perhaps not risk the whole amount of all upon any one. Or, if he did, he 
 would choose with an eye to absolute safety. 
 
 O. H. Certainly. 
 
 G. Weil, sir, now this stock offers a prospect of pretty large profit. I am 
 not a merchant, but I have an idea that a widow, with little to venture, ought 
 to be shy of large profits ; that there must be risk with them. 
 
 O. H. You are right there, sir ; and though I consider Quondac stock safe, 
 I think a good bond and mortgage safer. 
 
 G. That is just what I wished to know. ( Rising.) I thank you, sir. I ad- 
 vised my friend so, and now she will take my advice. The education of her 
 son, and his first start in life, depend in a manner on this fund. 
 
 O. H. Two things she ought not to put at risk. Though as for a first start 
 in life, a young man of the right sort of stuff makes a very good start with 
 nothing. 
 
 G. Many do, sir. But others find means to get on with nothing, and end 
 in nothing. How they live upon it, is a mystery I never could see into ; but 
 they do it, and live well. 
 
 O. H. That mystery, Mr. Glumly, is to be explained by one word, debt, or 
 sometimes you may add another, gambling. 
 
 G. It is very odd. I made a discovery this morning which illustrates what 
 you say, Mr. Hollybush, as if it had been invented for the purpose. I learned 
 by chance that two friends of mine — fashionable, elegant young men about 
 town, living like men of easy means, though I never knew exactly how — were 
 making an urgent application, through another friend, to procure a private loan 
 of money. But I beg pardon, I have detained you too long. Good day, sir. 
 
 O. H. Good day, sir. [Exit G. 
 
 {Enter Jacob H. at another door, as having waited therefor G. to go.) 
 
 J. H. Well, how do you like him ? 
 
 O. H. Pretty well, considering the prejudice I had against him. But 
 Jacob, did you hear his last words ? 
 
 J. H. Yes. 
 
 O. H. Whom does he mean, do you suppose ? 
 
 J. H. I don't know. 
 
 O. H. Two friends of his, borrowing money together. That must be Hay 
 and Hartington. 
 
 J. H. Hartington is very little his friend. 
 
 O. H. It is them he means, and through Vansittart. I'll find out more 
 about this. If those young men are keeping afloat by borrowing, they are not 
 the men for my sons-in-law. 
 
 J. H. Poh, poh ; don't be savage. It may be a lie altogether, or it may 
 mean some one else. Besides, did you never borrow money yourself? 
 
 O. H. Not to buy white gloves and opera tickets. 
 
 J. H. Well, well. Let's go to Vansittart's. [Exeunt. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 17 
 
 Scene III. — Vansittart's office. Vansittart and Duperu. (Enter Old 
 H. and Jacob. Salutations exchanged.) 
 
 Old H. Well, Vansittart, are all these papers ready ? 
 
 V. Yes, sir. Here is an assignment of the ship, duplicate copy. I've 
 lodged the original at the Custom-house. 
 
 O. H. Very well. 
 
 V. And here is the policy of insurance, duly assigned ; and an assignment of 
 the cargo, and policy on that. I believe it is all regular. And here is Mr. 
 Duperu's own bond, to which these are collateral. You don't often make a 
 safer loan, Mr. Hollybush. 
 
 O. H Well, give rne the papers. I'll examine them at once, and I've 
 brought a check for the money. (Takes the papers, and sits down at a side- 
 table to look them over.) 
 
 J. H. This seems to me, Mr. Duperu, to have been a remarkably well 
 planned voyage. 
 
 D. Yes, sir ; it was so. It has proved longer than the owners expected, and 
 they want this money on that account. 
 
 /. H. Then you are not the owner yourself ? 
 
 D. I have no interest beyond my commissions, though the whole stands in 
 my name. 
 
 /. H. You do not wish to name your principals ? 
 
 D. No. I am not at liberty. 
 
 J. H. Has the ship been heard from ? 
 
 D. Oh, yes, from Calcutta ; and the captain remitted money, and promised 
 to write again and remit more. We waited for that till the last moment, 
 which caused our wanting this money so urgently. 
 
 J. H. The voyage had answered your expectations, so far ? 
 
 D. Abundantly. 
 
 (OldH. comes forward.) 
 
 O. H. It is all right. (Gives D. the check.) 
 
 D. Thank you, sir. (Going ) 
 
 J. H. I'll walk with you. [Exeunt J. H. and D. 
 
 O. H. Vansittart, give me those building contracts. I want to read them 
 again. And I want to ask you a question, which, perhaps, you cannot answer 
 without violating professional confidence. If so, say nothing. 
 
 V. Very well, sir. 
 
 O. H. Are Rupert Hay and John Hartington borrowers of money ? 
 
 V. They are not known to be so, sir. 
 
 O. H. No — not publicly. And what you may have private knowledge of, 
 that I can't ask you. It is a good answer, but it leaves me my suspicions^ 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 V. Keen old fox'! How did he smell out that ? But if he suspects the 
 truth, it will rather raise than lower his opinion of them. [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene IV. — Hay's Room. Hat, Hartington and Duperu. 
 
 Hay. Well, so far so good. This money will keep us on till April. 
 
 Wn. Yes, and before April the ship will be here. The old man looked 
 pretty close to the operation before he would risk his money on it. 
 
 Hay. No great risk. He has Duperu's bond. 
 
 D. Yes, but he is not a man to depend on any personal security. He can- 
 vassed the whole thing from end to end. If you had any doubts of the voyage 
 being well laid out, I think you may now dismiss them. He says it is all right, 
 and he knows. 
 
 H'n. You explained everything then ? 
 
 D. Yes, fully, as to this voyage. But I did not think it necessary to go 
 
18 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 into details about the brig, and I only mentioned her having been sold at Rio, 
 and her proceeds shipped in the Maypole. I told him that to account for the 
 Maypole's detention. 
 
 Wn. Thnt is simple enough. 
 
 D. Yes, but it seemed to puzzle him. He asked a great many questions 
 about it, and evidently thought the brig had been sold for a slaver. 
 
 Hay. You ought to have denied that distinctly. 
 
 D- So I would if he had charged it distinctly. But he did not. I only 
 guessed his suspicions, and of course could not bring up that idea myself. 
 
 Wn. No; I don't see how you could. {Enter Vansillart.) Well, Van- 
 sittart, this seems to make all right for the present. 
 
 V. Yes, but I'll tell you something odd. Old Hollybush suspects you two 
 of being the partners with Duperu in this enterprise. 
 
 Hay. How can that be ? 
 
 V. The devil knows. But after Duperu was gone he put the question to 
 me almost in plain terms. 
 
 Wn. How almost ? — and not quite ? 
 
 V. Why you know he could not ask me in a professional matter where I 
 had names to keep secret, what those names were. So he asked in general 
 terms, whether you and Hay were borrowers of money ? 
 
 Hay. What did you say ? 
 
 V. That you were not known as such. He did not press me further, but 
 I saw he was convinced he was right 
 
 Wn. Well, if the voyage turns out as it looks now, he won't think the 
 worse of us for it. 
 
 V. If I know him, he will think the better of you, even if the voyage should 
 ruin you. He is not sordid, but he has a horror of a young man who does 
 nothing. I fully believe, that if he were certain you had planned this voyage, 
 you would have no more trouble from his opposition. 
 
 Hn. Well, I won't trust to that. When we are sure of success I am 
 willing to tell him, but not a moment sooner. 
 
 D. And when you do tell him, you will have to clear up that little mat- 
 ter about the slave trade, I can tell you. He is a furious anti-slavery man. 
 
 Hn. Oh, that will be easy enough. By the way, Duperu, when shall we 
 hear from those English bills? 
 
 D. By next steamer. 
 
 Wn. It would be a bad joke if they should not be paid. 
 
 D. Yes; I paid our December notes with the proceeds of the sale of those 
 bills. It would take all old Hollybush's money to refund that, and we couldn't 
 get through March at all. 
 
 Hay. But you don't think there is any danger ? 
 
 D. No. Matters are bad in England, but I think those bills are safe enough. 
 Else I would not have sold them. Good morning. [Exit. 
 
 Hay. Vansittart, draw a chair. Put your feet upon the mantelpiece, and 
 call for brandy and cigars. My mind is much relieved, and I feel inclined to be 
 hospitable. 
 
 V. Thank you, (sits down.) But I neither drink nor smoke ; fin I besides, you 
 would quit me in a quarter of an hour from now, to be off to the house on the 
 corner. 
 
 Hay. It is very odd about Mrs. Campion's party. Hartington and I were 
 certainly invited verbally, and I know the notes were all written for a host of 
 people, and now it's all up. She says her aunt is dead. 
 
 V. Yes, but Glumly knew her aunt, and he says she died a fortnight ago, 
 somewhere in Maryland. 
 
 Hn. Ill news travels slow, it appears. 
 
 V. Glumly says they left the letter in the post office till they wanted it. 
 But what did they want it for? They certainly meant to give a party, and 
 something must have happened there more than we know of. 
 
 Hay. If you quote Glumly again, you will give Hartington the hydrophobia. 
 
 V. Eh — how is that ? 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 19 
 
 Hay. They are rivals, I believe, and Harrington is very jealous. 
 
 V. Oh, for that matter, he is your rival, also. 1 have received his declara- 
 tion in due form, for either of the ladies that may be disposable. 
 
 Hn. Well, if he don't succeed through you, I suppose he will print it next 
 in his d — d newspaper. 
 
 V. Yes, or in his d — d magazine. 
 
 Hn. To be followed up afterwards with lampoons when he finds he can't 
 succeed. 
 
 V. Yes, or a demand of black mail for his forbearance. 
 
 H'n. Oh, no ; give the devil his due. I have a great contempt for Glumly, 
 but I don't believe he is assassin enough to levy black mail. 
 
 V. Well, I rather like the fellow. But I believe it will go rather hard with 
 him when the devil gets his due. Good evening. 
 
 Hay cy H'n. We'll walk with you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Old Holltbush's house. Old H. and Jacob. 
 
 O. H. No, no, Jacob, that's all nonsense. He had no more idea of Quandac 
 stock than I have of poetry. He invented that whole story, to get an excuse 
 for calling here. 
 
 /. H. To what end ? 
 
 O. H. For the very purpose of telling me this matter about Hay and Har- 
 tington. He contrived to bring it in, as it were, accidentally, but he did not do 
 that well, and as for his not mentioning the names, he knew I would guess at 
 them, and would inquire, and so the thing would come out. 
 
 J. H. May be so ; but I don't think it. How should he know that you took 
 any interest in their affairs ? 
 
 O. H. Bah ! does not all the town remark their attention to the girls ? There 
 are rumors very often without foundation, but I believe there never is foundation 
 without a rumor. 
 
 J. H. Well, well, Robert, suppose it is so, what then ? 
 
 O. H. Why, then, Jacob, I'll put a stop to attentions and rumors and all 
 together. 
 
 /. H. That is pretty severe. 
 
 O. H. Not at all, it is but justice to my daughters ; a reasonable care to save 
 them from being the wives of debtors. A man in debt, habitually, hopelessly 
 in debt, is the most unhappy creature in the world but one, and that one is, 
 his wife. 
 
 J. H. Do you intend to act on what you know, or wait for further evidence ? 
 
 O. H. I shall wait a little, and consider what I have to do. But, Jacob, do 
 you not interfere. Give no hints to anybody of what I have said to you, neither 
 now, nor at any time. 
 
 /. H. I shall not, brother. 
 
 (Enter Charlotte and Mart.) 
 
 O. Oh, uncle Jacob, give you joy. 
 
 M. Give you joy, with all my heart. Many thanks for the new aunt you're 
 to give us. 
 
 /. H- Oh, you husseys, your father has betrayed me, has he ? 
 
 C. Yes, it was too good news to keep quiet. We are quite delighted. 
 
 J. H. So am I, dear girls, and not without good reason. 
 
 O. H. And so am I, upon the whole. But your bride has one fault. 
 
 J. H. She is too young. 
 
 O. H. Yes. 
 
 J. H. No; it is my fault. I am too old. Five years too old, exactly. 
 
 C. How — five years ? 
 
 J. H. Yes, there is fifteen years difference, and I think, considering what 
 man's intellect is, and what woman's is, the man cannot keep his due advantage 
 in the married state unless he has ten years the start. 
 
20 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C Cannot govern his wife ? 
 
 /. H. No. 
 
 M. And how will the extra five years affect that ? Will they make it easier 
 or harder ? 
 
 ./. H. Ah, Mary, you must judge that by the event. Or indeed, perhaps, 
 you can tell me how that will be; for I am sure you kuow Minetta now much 
 better than I do. 
 
 M. What, after so long a courtship ? 
 
 J. H. Longer than you think, Miss Malapert. But seriously, 1 say that 
 every man that marries, and every woman, marries a stranger. The whole 
 character remains to be discovered. Men know each other, and so do women, 
 but as society is constituted, each sex is perfect free masonry kept secret from 
 the other. 
 
 M. So you are not acquainted with Minetta, that is, the real Minetta? 
 
 J. H. No ; and before I come to it, probably I shall make acquaintance 
 with a hundred Minettas, each one unlike all the others. 
 
 M. Peeling off successively, like the grave-digger's jackets in Hamlet. 
 
 J. H. Yes; but with this advantage, that it will depend on me in some 
 measure which one shall be fixed and become permanent. 
 
 C Do you think you can make your wife what you please? 
 
 /. H. By no means. I can make nothing of her that she has not naturally 
 the material for. But I can make the best of her material if I am myself what 
 I ought to be. 
 
 O. H. So if matters go wrong, you mean to lake a large share of the blame ? 
 
 /. H. Certainly. 
 
 C. A gallaut resolution. 
 
 (Enter Hay and Hartington. Salutations exchanged. Old Holltbush 
 takes a book and sits down at a side-table, but observing what passes Hay 
 sits down by Mary, and Hartington takes his place behind C's chair, 
 standing so as nearly to face the others.) 
 
 M. Where have you been lately, Mr. Hay ? 
 
 Hay. Why, you ought to know. I have reported myself here every day. 
 You forget all 1 say when I am gone, perhaps. 
 
 M. Oh, no; but the rest of your time ? Mr. Hartington says, he sees very 
 little of you novv-a-days. 
 
 Hay. Shall I give an account of myself, Hartington ? 
 
 Hn. I don't see how you can help it. 
 
 Hay. Miss Charlotte, do you require the same from him, too ? 
 
 C Yes ; so far as I have authority. 
 
 Hay. Well, I'll speak for both. We have been very diligent, good boys; 
 we have minded our own business, and kept within doors when we had no rea- 
 son to be out. 
 
 C. It is very satisfactory. 
 
 M. Yes ; but one phrase I don't understand. Pray, what is your own 
 business? 
 
 Hay. Shall 1 tell it, Hartington ? 
 
 Hn. Tell what you think proper. 
 
 Hay. Well now, ladies, don't you know what a gentleman means by at- 
 tending to his business ? 
 
 C. Not precisely. 
 
 Hay. Borrowing money. (Hartington makes him a sign of disapproval. 
 Old Hollybush looks at Jacob, and makes a significant gesture, and exit.) 
 
 Hn. Speak for yourself, Rupert. I decline to be associated with that idea 
 of business. 
 
 Mary (looking earnestly at Hay, and speaking slowly and pointedly .) And- 
 so-do-i. 
 
 Hay. Mercy on us, (taking a five-franc piece out of his pocket.) What 
 shall 1 do with this unfortunate five-franc piece ? 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 21 
 
 Har. Is it a borrowed one? 
 
 Hay. Yes. I borrowed it of Glumly to pay ray way in the omnibus. But 
 I had no idea what it would lead to. (To Mary ) Dear lady, do not take up 
 such a thing so seriously. I am quite of your mind, or of anybody's mind that 
 hates the whole system of borrowing. 
 
 M. Well, well, and now, geutlemen, you must leave us for an hour, and then 
 come back and escort us to Mrs. Campion's. — Uncle Jacob will no doubt join the 
 party. 
 
 Hn. Oh, by the way, what is this about, Mrs. Campion's ball ? It is very 
 oddly put off. 
 
 C. The death of her aunt, you know. 
 
 Hay. That's all fudge. Her aunt died before the ball was announced. 
 
 M. Well, well, ask Uncle Jacob. He is authentic now for the news from 
 Mrs. Campion's. 
 
 Hay. Indeed ! — I'm very happy to hear it. He can speak officially, then ? 
 
 M. Yes, quite so. 
 
 Hay. May we offer you any congratulations, Mr. Holly bush ? 
 
 /. H. Yes, as many as you will. 
 
 H'n. I am sincerely glad to hear it. I congratulate you with all my heart. 
 I have long wished to see that arrangement come about, from a sincere regard 
 for both parties. 
 
 J.H. Many thanks. But please keep secret till I tell you the contrary. 
 It is the lady's wish. 
 
 Hay. We shall obey her. 
 
 C. I don't know anything I wouldn't have done, short of absolute match- 
 making, to get Uncle Jacob to marry Minetta. But it happens without my 
 help. 
 
 M. Well well, let's go dress. — In an hour, cavaliers. [Exeunt all but Jacob. 
 (Re-enter Old Hollybush.) 
 
 O. H. Did you mark that conversation ? 
 
 J. H. Yes, but I thought nothing of it. 
 
 O. H. It was not much by itself, but putting it to the other matters, it was 
 proof positive. 
 
 J. H. How so ? 
 
 O. H. Why, Glumly's story first, then Vansittart's evasive denial, and now 
 Hay's saying that they bad been borrowing money, and Hartington starting and 
 giving him a sign to be cautious — all my doubts were removed. 
 
 J. H. Doubts of what ? 
 
 O. H. That these young men are running into debt. Idle, and running in 
 debt. They are not the sons-in-law for me. 
 
 J. H. Well, brother, you are apt to have your own way. But I think you 
 are building pretty confidently on evidence merely circumstantial. 
 
 O. H. Circumstantial evidence ! I like that. As if any other was worth 
 having. 
 
 J. H. Positive testimony goes for nothing, then. 
 
 O. H. Yes, if not confirmed by circumstances. Do you suppose if a dozen 
 Glumlys had sworn to me that those young men were unprincipled spendthrifts 
 I would have believed it ? No. 1 should have considered it merely a case for 
 inquiry. But when a dozen circumstances point to the same fact, ah, that is 
 different ; that cannot be counterfeited. 
 
 /. H. It's the old argument we have talked over so often. 
 
 O. H. Yes, but I heard a story the other day I want to tell you. A man 
 was tried for his life, somewhere West, I've forgotten; well, three witnesses 
 swore to have seen him commit a murder. They were good, legal witnesses ; 
 their characters could not be made out infamous ; their story well hung together. 
 The evidence was positive and clear. You would have hanged him, would you 
 not? 
 
 J. H. Perhaps so. 
 
 O. H. Well, the prisoner kept quiet till the case was well before the court, 
 
22 Earning a living. 
 
 and then he produced, not a witness, for he said nothing, but as a man, whose 
 presence was a circumstance. It was the murdered man, alive and well. 
 
 J. H. Oh, but that is a made up story. 
 
 O. H. It illustrates my argument all the same. 
 
 J. H. And the application to Hay and Hartington, I suppose, is that they 
 must produce the money they haven't borrowed, to prove to you they haveu't 
 borrowed it. 
 
 O. H. Nonsense, Jacob. The application is, that there are cases where 
 circumstantial evidence is irresistible — where positive evidence goes down before 
 it and passes for nothing. And such a case is this of the borrowing. I have 
 arrived at a certainty and shall act upon it. 
 
 /. H. Very well, brother. I shall be careful not to meddle in a matter 
 which is by right your affair only. What I may think about it, I'll tell you 
 when you ask me. Good day. [Exit. 
 
 O. H. That will not be till my measures are taken. 
 
 Scene VI. — Mrs. Campion's. Mrs. C, Minetta, Jacob H., Hat, Har- 
 tington, Charlotte, and Mart. 
 
 C. Do you put on mourning for your aunt, Mrs. Campion ? 
 
 Mrs. C. No, dear. We knew her very little — there never was any familiar 
 intercoui - se between the families. In fact, as to any deep feeling about her 
 death, I have very many mere acquaintances whose loss would grieve me 
 more. 
 
 Hay. 1 care nothing for relationship, where the connection is not animated 
 by friendly intimacy. 
 
 Mrs. C. Nor I. On the whole, in our country, cousinships are a nuisance. 
 They are a standing obligation on one to love certain persons whether one likes 
 them or not. 
 
 C. 1 suppose it is the same in all countries. But I like all my cousins very 
 well. 
 
 H'n. No doubt. But suppose you were to hear of a tribe of new ones. 
 
 C. I should be very much alarmed. 
 
 H'n. Certainly, till you had seen them and found they were all right. And 
 that is not always everybody's good fortune. 
 
 Hay. Well, it is not mine. But I don't allow it to be my misfortune neither. 
 I treat a relative better than a mere acquaintance if I like him, and worse if I 
 don't like him. 
 
 M. When did you hear of your aunt's death, Mrs. Campion. 
 
 Mrs. C. Why, to tell the truth, some days before we put off the ball. We 
 had spoken of giving one. We felt committed, and thought we would goon, 
 and actually wrote our notes, and then thought it wouldn't do, and burnt 
 them. 
 
 M. She lived in Maryland, did she not? 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes. We scarcely knew her at all. 
 
 Hay 'Twould have been the same thing if she had lived in the Bowery. 
 
 Mrs. C. Or in the Fifth Avenue, unless we had happened to like hei 
 Don't be severe upon my aunt, she may have been an angel. 
 
 /. H. So she may. There is circumstantial evidence that such things are 
 possible in your family — {looking at Minetta.) 
 
 Min. That is gallantly said.^ 
 
 Mary. Are you going on in that vein, Uncle Jacob. 
 
 J- H. What do you mean. Miss Mischief? 
 
 Mary. Only that we will leave you. Come sister, come gentlemen. — ( To 
 Hay and Hn.) 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, don't leave us yet. 
 
 C. Yes. We have calls to make. Good morning. 
 
 [Exeunt C, M., Hay &- H'n. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 23 
 
 Mrs. C. Well. I'll go look after my housekeeping. You'll stay to dinner, 
 Mr. Hollybush. 
 
 J. H. With pleasure, madam. [Exit Mrs. C. 
 Minetta, listen to me. There is going to be trouble yonder. 
 
 Min. Where ? 
 
 J. H. At my brother's. These young people do not. know it, nor have they 
 any reason to expect it. But Robert is in one of his spasms, and he is going to 
 break off both matches. 
 
 Min. Oh heavens ! — for what reason ? 
 
 J. H. For no sufficient reason, to my thinking. 
 
 Min. But, dear Mr. Hollybush, tell me what is the matter. 
 
 J. H. I cannot, Minetta ; I have promised not to tell anybody. That I have 
 promised Robert ; and I have promised myself that I will not meddle in the 
 matter in any way. 
 
 Min. It's very selfish of you — two dear friends — four indeed. Your nieces 
 too — all their happiness for life crushed for a caprice, and you won't raise a hand 
 to prevent it. 
 
 /. H. Dear Minetta, shall I raise my hands to do good, when I know the 
 effcrt will do mischief? You do not know my brother. 
 
 Min. I know he is a kind father and a clear-headed, sensible man. He is 
 under some mistake, and nobody so fit to set him right as you. But tell me, 
 what is the matter ? 
 
 J. H. What ! when I have pi'omised not to tell ? 
 
 Min. That promise does not extend to me. 
 
 J. H. Ah, Minetta, you ! you ! who have to trust so much to my promises, 
 do you teach me to trifle with them. 
 
 Min. It's true, it's true. I ought not to ask it of you. But, my heavens ! 
 what can be done ? Surely you can speak a word to your brother, to your own 
 brother. — ( Weeps) 
 
 J. H. I will do all I can, but you must let me judge what that may be. — 
 {Taking her hand.) Do not weep, but take courage. I cannot set Robert 
 right, at least not now. But he may get more light, or I may lead him to it 
 with a little patience and judgment. 
 
 Min. Poor Charlotte — poor Mary. But you think you can do something ? 
 
 J. H. I will not interfere, unless I see a certainty of doing some good. — 
 When that appears, I will. 
 
 Min. Well, then, I will do what lies in my power to give you an induce- 
 ment to find that certainty. The day of my wedding shall be the day of their's, 
 and the same hour and place. You have urged me to fix it. Now I hope you 
 are content. [Exit, still weeping. 
 
 J. H. (Calling after her) Minetta, Minetta. — Gone! — Who would have 
 supposed she would take it so to heart ? [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. — Old H.'s house. Charlotte and Mary, as returned from walk- 
 ing. 
 
 C. Don't you hate shopping with gentlemen ? 
 
 M. Yes, but not so much as they hate it. 
 
 C. Hartington says the shops ought to be all kept by women. 
 
 M. And they ought to be all pretty, I suppose, and then he would be willing 
 to go with us to see them. But I don't agree with him at all. 
 
 C. You would'nt be jealous ? 
 
 M. Not very. But I can't bear to with deal women. They are so mean, 
 such hard bargainers, and so disobliging. They get out of patience, and won't 
 show you things. 
 
 C. And they cheat you in the change, and give you short measure. 
 
 M. I wish we had some good lady's shoemakers. 
 
24 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C. We shall never have boots made here like the French boots ; look at 
 these — they &re too large, and yet they pinch me. Those are your French 
 ones. 
 
 M. Yes, they are perfectly easy ; and yet my foot looks as small again as 
 it does in the others. 
 
 C. What a bazaar that shop of Stewart's is. 
 
 M. Yes, I hate to go there, now. It is as crowded, and as busy as a great 
 market-place. 
 
 C. And they are learning market-place manners. They have so much to 
 do that they can't stop to be civil. One does not meet the attention we used to 
 inJohnson's time. 
 
 M. Here comes papa. 
 
 {Enter Old H.) 
 
 O. H Good morning, daughters. 
 
 C. £f M. Good morning, papa. 
 
 O. H. Daughters, I have something to say to you — something of the utmost 
 importance; and I fear something that will be very disagreeable to you both. 
 
 C Dear papa, do not frighten us. 
 
 O. H. My daughters, you remember what has passed between you and 
 me about these two young gentlemen. Mr. Hartington and Mr. Hay, and their 
 visits at this house. 
 
 C. 8f M. Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. You know I have never consented to regard them as my accepted 
 sons-in-law. 
 
 C. &• M. No, sir. 
 
 O. H. But have always reserved the right of investigating their pretensions 
 at my leisure, and rejecting them if there should appear good reasons for so 
 doing. 
 
 C.SfM. Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. Well, my daughters, I am very sorry, indeed, to say to you that 
 there are such reasons — good, sound, and sufficient reasons — and i cannot suffer 
 this thing to go any further. 
 
 C. Oh! papa.' 
 
 O. H. Don't interrupt me. 1 say I have found fatal defects in the charac- 
 ters of these young men ; and they must discontinue their visits at this house 
 for the present ; and if they ever come back here, it must be on the footing of 
 common acquaintance. 
 
 M. But, dear papa — how sudden — how very harsh it will seem. 
 
 C. Have they done anything wrong, anything dishonorable ? 
 
 O. H. Charlotte, if I accuse them of anything special, we shall have an ar- 
 gument about it, to decide whether it is wrong or not. You must take your 
 father's word, and be governed by his judgment. I will not allow you to marry 
 persons who would certainly make you miserable. 
 
 M. But you do not know how far we are committed. 
 
 O. H. You are not committed to disobey your father. 
 
 M. Perhaps we are. You have always ruled us by reason, and trusted us ; 
 and we have deserved to be trusted. Now you give us no reasons, but a com- 
 mand to break engagements, formed under your apparent approbation. 
 
 O. H. Engagements ! and my approbation. How dare you tell me so, 
 when 1 told you from the outset I must have time, and you must regard my 
 decision as reserved. Engagements ! — are you engaged ? 
 
 C Mary, Mary, do not anger papa more. 
 
 M. I will tell the whole truth, and take the consequences. Yes, sir, we 
 are engaged, both of us, and irrevocably, unless something far more decisive 
 than a change of opinion, even of our father's, can be adduced to release us. 
 
 O. H. Is it so, indeed ? {Walks up and down, agitated.) My daughters, 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 25 
 
 I have never spoken to you as a tyrant, nor will I now ; if you disobey me, I 
 have no remedy. I cannot confine you with bolts and bars; nor utter curses on 
 you — that is horrible. I can warn you, and forbid you to proceed, and that I 
 now do solemnly. And I can forbid those men my house ; and then my power 
 is at an end. Do what your conscience bids you ; the consequences must fall 
 on your heads if you do wrong. (Exit Charlotte in tears, Mary standing 
 immovable a few seconds, looking after him. 
 
 M. Charlotte. 
 
 C. (sobbing,) What, dear Mary. 
 
 M. What does your conscience bid you to do ? 
 
 C. To obey my father. 
 
 M. So does mine. But it bids me also to cleave to him to whom my 
 promise is given — to whom my heart is wedded — who is indeed before Heaven 
 my plighted husband ; and this voice speaks Iounder than the other. 
 
 C. Would you elope ? 
 
 M. Dear Charlotte, what extremes you fly to. I would write to Rupert, 
 and do you write to Hartington. Let us try to find out what it is papa should 
 accuse them of; let us be sure there is no dishonor. 
 
 C. Oh ! he said there was no dishonor. 
 
 M. Not exactly, but almost. And then, when we are satisfied with that, 
 let us see what the gentlemen will say before we decide on anything. 
 
 C. They will certainly propose an elopement. 
 
 M. Well, it is better they should propose it than we ; and I perceive 
 clearly that if they do make such a proposition, I shall have to decide upon the 
 answer to it for both of us. 
 
 C. Indeed, Mary, I fear you will. [Scene closes. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Glumly at a table, with books and papers in his own room. 
 (Enter Barbow.) 
 
 B. Good morning, Glumly. 
 
 G. (looking around without rising.) Ah! Barbow — sit down. 
 
 jB. (sitting opposite to him, and looking him in the face, speaking slowly and 
 distinctly.) How does the magazine come on now? 
 
 G. Very well. I think your honor asked me that question before. 
 
 B. I am obliged to ask it once a month. 
 
 G. There is a damnable significance in your tone. Here, Barbow — here is 
 twenty dollars. I can't get on without your articles ; and it is another ques- 
 tion whether I can with them. 
 
 B. Has not the last number sold ? 
 
 G. Yes — pretty well. There was the portrait of General Taylor, you know, 
 and your sketch of his life ; and what do you think besides? Twelve articles 
 of my own, under different signatures. 
 
 B. Yes ; there was quite a variety. 
 
 G. Don't sneer, you rascal. Why, what the devil could I do ? I can't 
 afford to pay all through ; and as for these volunteer correspondents, (holding 
 up a bunch of papers,) coufound them ! their brains would'nt make soupe 
 maigre. 
 
 B. No ; but then you know they are ambitious of print. 
 
26 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 G. It's a small honor ; but it does seem to inspire those who are beneath it. 
 I wish I could only get clear of it. 
 
 B. There is a way, you know. 
 
 G. What way ? 
 
 B. Wedlock. 
 
 G. With the girl I love ? Bright eyes — a romantic heart, and nothing to 
 boil the pot with. 
 
 B. Not exactly; but with a rich widow, or old maid just turning sour — a 
 swarthy complexion, green eyes, and, if possible, a Quaker. 
 
 G. Why a Quaker? 
 
 B. She will have more money than another, cceteris paribus. 
 
 G. What does that scrap of Latin signify ? 
 
 B. Other things being equal. 
 
 G. Right; it does so. Your Latin and your impudence are both unexcep- 
 tionable. Why, you malignant brute, must I sell myself to an ogre ? Am I 
 devil all over ? 
 
 B. Turn you inside out, and you would be. 
 
 G. There is something in that. But everybody can't see in, as you 
 pretend to. 
 
 jB. Black eyes see something. 
 
 G. Miss Hollybush, to wit. Well, Barbow, I have a great mind to try a 
 coup de main in that quarter, notwithstanding. 
 
 B. You have strong rivals, if rumor says true. 
 
 G. Hay and Harrington. But 1 shall only compete with one of them. 
 
 B. Of course, but which one ? 
 
 G. Hartiugton. Charlotte is softer — more impressible. I am afraid of the 
 other. 
 
 B. Very well. {Arranging the table.) Here is pen, ink and paper. Now 
 proceed. 
 
 G. Curse me, Barbow, you come in % here and sit down among my 
 thoughts like a juggler amongst his tools. I have been hesitating all day about 
 this very thing. {Talcing the pen.) 
 
 " Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going, 
 And such an instrument I was to use." 
 
 JB. Yes, it saves a deal of stammering in such cases. Now, let's see it 
 walk. Dear Lady — 
 
 G. {writing, then reads.) " Dear Lady, it is not without a consciousness of 
 extreme presumption that I venture to offer to one, placed as you are" — {hesitates.) 
 
 B. Very good, so far. 
 
 G. Placed as you are, the homage of new admiration — 
 
 B. New ? 
 
 G. That is, additional. One more in her train. 
 
 B. Say so, then. Your admiration is not new, you know. You have been 
 contending with it, stifling it — 
 
 G. Repressing it. 
 
 B. Ever since you knew she was rich — 
 
 G. Ah, Mephistophiles, {writes,) the homage of another adorer. 
 
 B. Very well. 
 
 G. {writes, then reads.) " I have hoped, indeed, and feared by turns, that 
 through the cold forms of society, your quick eye may have divined the deep 
 feelings those forms restrained." 
 
 B. Very well. 
 
 G. {writes, then reads.) " But I cannot leave this any longer in doubt. I 
 am urged by an impulse too strong for forms, to send you this brief declaration, 
 that I may know positively that you know that my life is in your hands, and 
 mayereceive from your smiles or frowns, when we next meet, the unequivocal 
 oracle of my destiny." 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 27 
 
 B. You don't receive oracles. You consult oracles and receive responses. 
 
 G. (correcting.) " Find in your smiles, &c, the oracle" — 
 
 B. That's better. Now sign and seal and send off. Just do this deed be- 
 fore your purpose cools. (G. copying out the letter on a fair sheet.) 
 
 G. (folding the letter.) It is 'better so. (Puts it in an envelope, and puts 
 the direction on it.) I will send it over immediately. 
 
 (Knock. Enter Vansittart.) 
 
 G. Ah, Vansittart, good morning. 
 
 V. How are you ? here is your Retsch. Much obliged to you. 
 
 G. Very welcome ; anything new ? 
 
 V. Not much. Your new picture is quite ornamental here. 
 
 G. Yes, some pictures are ornamental, certainly. But 1 have no enthusiasm 
 about the arts. 
 
 V. Nor I. I have a natural faculty, too— a certain skill or connoisseurship. 
 I can recognize genuine pieces of painters, whose style I know, and detect 
 counterfeits. But I hardly ever see a picture that gives me pleasure. 
 
 G. One picture in a million is well executed. And out of twenty good 
 ones, nineteen represent crucifixions, murders — 
 
 V. Martyrdoms, saints boiled in oil — 
 
 G. Or tame madonnas, with which we have been sickened by infinite repe- 
 titions. That gives you one in twenty millions by close calculation, that really 
 should give one pleasure. 
 
 V. That's a little extravagant. But Hay goes beyond you, he says the 
 whole art of painting is a failure. 
 
 G. Yes, and then he writes me that critique in my December number on 
 the Art Unit n exhibition, full of artistic cant and entusymuzy. 
 
 V. Just like him ; and we all do so more or less. By the way, have you 
 heard what has happened to him ? 
 
 G. No ! 
 
 V. Mr. Hollybush has politely requested him to discontinue visiting at his 
 house — him and Hartington. 
 
 G. By Jove ! is that possible ? 
 
 V. Yes, and without any reason assigned. The old man draws it cool and 
 strong, but he is too late. 
 
 G. How — too late ? 
 
 V. Yes, they have been positively engaged now over a month. 
 
 G. Who ? Hay and Mary Hollybush ? 
 
 V. Yes, and Hartington and Charlotte. That has been a secret till now ; 
 but to-day Hartington has a note from Charlotte, speaking for herself and her 
 sister. 
 
 G. Confirming the engagements ? 
 
 V. Yes, and adding that they deem those ties paramount to the duty of 
 filial obedience ; that they were contracted, as it were, under their father's eye, 
 with his tacit sanction, and cannot be set aside without grave and irresistible 
 reasons. 
 
 G. Which reasons cannot well exist in this case. 
 
 V. No, but there do exist reasons, which in due time will convert the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 G. Do you think so ? 
 
 V. Yes, but that remains a secret. Miss Hollybush adds, that she and her 
 sister are desirous now that their engagement should be publicly avowed. That 
 I suppose is intended to force out their father's reasons, if he has any. Good 
 morning. [Exit. 
 
 B. Where is your valentine ? 
 
 G. Here — under the inkstand. Throw it in the stove. 
 
 B. Not I, thou man of rash and desperate words. It is a good letter, and 
 
 must be made to do good service. 
 
28 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 G. Why, you would not have me send it now ? 
 
 B. {tearing off the envelope.) Not to Charlotte Hollybush ? The devil, I 
 know the temper of that family too well. Hartiugton is sure of her. 
 
 G. To whom, then ? 
 
 B. Why, indeed, to whom then ? Come, come, you are well launched in 
 society ; you have talent, reputation, and a profession. 
 
 G. Such as it is. 
 
 B. Such as it is, and you want a rich wife. You may meet with some re- 
 fusals, but a refusal breaks no bones; and if it did, first or last, you will get 
 salve for them. 
 
 G. You are desparately anxious to succeed to the magazine. 
 
 B. It is true, I have need of the succession. Come, whom do you know ? 
 
 G. Minetta Campion. 
 
 B. Very good ; four thousand a year, and possibilities. 
 
 G. Certainties. 
 
 B. So much the better. (Reading over the letter.) It will suit her just as 
 well. I believe Jacob Hollybush is in your way ; but I fancy you are too many 
 for him. 
 
 G. I hope so, although he is rich, and I fear Minetta is not romantic. Still 
 I know her much better ; I am on terms there a good deal more intimate — 
 and it would be a pity too, to lose all that. 
 
 B. Bah ! Don't be afraid. Take this envelope, (hands him one) and put the 
 address on your letter. There is no girl of twenty-five in New- York that will 
 like you the less for writing her such a letter, even if it fails of its object. 
 
 G. Something in that perhaps. (Directs and seals the letter.) 
 
 (Knock. Enter Jacob Hollybush.) 
 
 J. H. Good morning, Mr. Glumly. I stopped in passing, at the request of 
 Mrs. Campion. There will be a few people at her house this evening, at a 
 reading and talking party — will you come ? 
 
 G. With great pleasure. Who will be there ? do you know ? 
 
 J. H. Oh, just a few people. The Dubarres, Hay and Huntington, and 
 perhaps a dozen more. 
 
 G. And your nieces ? 
 
 /. H. Very likely. Well, as I am here, I think I may as well tell you a bit 
 of news. 
 
 G. I suspect I have heard it. 
 
 J. H. I suspect not. From whom ? 
 
 G. Vansittart. 
 
 /. H. News from Vansittart ! — what was it? does it concern me ? 
 
 G. It concerned your nieces. 
 
 /. H. Oh, that is not it. 1 have nothing to say to that either way. My 
 news concerns myself. 
 
 G. Indeed ! if it is good, let me congratulate you. 
 
 J. H. Yes, it is good. Mrs. Campion insisted on secrecy at first, but that 
 was to have the first telling herself I find. So now it's out. I'm engaged to be 
 married. 
 
 G. To Miss Campion ? 
 
 ./. H. Yes, and the official promulgation is to take place at this little evening 
 party. 
 
 Barbov, (taking the letter out of the envelope, secretes the letter and holds up 
 the envelope to Glumly.) Glumly, I can't stay. I'll burn this paper by your leave. 
 (Puts the empty envelope in the stove and exit.) 
 
 J. H. Well, we shall see you there. 
 
 G. Certainly. (Exit J. H. G. sits down and rests his head on his hand.) 
 
 [Scene closes. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 29 
 
 Scene II. — Mrs. Campion's. Mr. and Mrs. C, Minetta and 
 Rupert Hat. 
 
 Minetta. Nobody comes — it is getting late. 
 Hay. Please to count me for one. 
 
 Minetta. No, only half of one. But we expect the other half. 
 Hay. You speak from the heart. You apply to me the sense of incomplete- 
 ness you feel in yourself. 
 
 Minetta. Possibly. Who will come do you think, Mamma ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Jacob Hollybush. 
 
 Minetta. Ah, don't teaze me. Will the Dubarres be here ? 
 
 Mrs. C- Yes, Mrs. Dubarre and Nancy. Dubarre not. 
 
 Hay. Do those two ladies get on together as usual ? 
 
 Mrs. C. I believe so. 
 
 {Enter Jacob H., Charlotte andM-AKY. Salutations exchanged.) 
 
 Mrs. C. (to Jacob.) We were speaking of Jane Dubarre and her sister-in- 
 law. 
 
 J. H. Ah, Miss Nancy ? she won't disappoint us, will she ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh no, she goes everywhere. She did not feel the loss of her lover 
 much. 
 
 J, H. She could not much regret him personally, he was and is such a brute 
 But she could not but feel the manner of the thing. It was atrocious. 
 
 Minetta. She ought not to have made such a mercenary engagement. 
 
 J. H. Yes, Milbury is very rich — five times her fortune. He has now mar- 
 ried a poor girl, but a very pretty one. 
 
 C. How can she endure him ? 
 
 M. Such gross, vulgar, ignoble ugliness. A great puny colossus — the very 
 sight of him makes me sick. 
 
 /. H. Nancy Dubarre is no beauty. 
 
 Hay. She's as ugly as Satan. 
 
 Campion. And as cross as a milldam. 
 
 Hay. Impedimentary — obstructive. 
 
 Minetta. Dissatisfied — complaining. 
 
 Hay. Empty and talkative. 
 
 J. H. Come, these be epigrams. She has fifty thousand dollars — she is not 
 an ogress, and I don't believe she has any fault that can't be cured. But she is 
 determined to be married. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. and Miss Dubarre, and Hartington. Salutations.) 
 
 Mrs. D. Are we late ? 
 
 Minetta. No, our principal performer has not come yet. 
 
 Mrs. D. Who is that ? 
 
 Minetta. Mr. Glumly. He is to read us something out of Shakspeare and 
 something of his own. 
 
 Campion. A streak of fat and a streak of lean. 
 
 Minetta Oh, Papa! that is not fair. 
 
 Hay. Which is fat ? and which is lean ? 
 
 Campion. I can tell you which is rich and which is poor 1 
 
 Hay. Ah ! that is more intelligible. 
 
 Mrs. C Glumly writes very well sometimes. 
 
 Hn. Some men do. But none read well. 
 
 Hay. Yes. Vindoboni. 
 
 Hn. True, Vindoboni reads French, so that it is a pleasure to hear him — a 
 very great pleasure. He chooses his readings well, too. They have those 
 things in French. 
 
 Hay. Vindoboni is the sort of man we want here — an element our society is 
 deficient in. He is full of accomplishment and knowledge, and he has the art 
 of making curreut coin of what he knows, and giving other people some pleasure 
 from it. 
 
30 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Hn. Dr. Sloper knows tea times as much. 
 
 Mrs. D. He's a pedant and a bore. 
 
 Hay. Well, what I have to say is. that I hear a good deal of talk about 
 foreigners coming out here to pick up heiresses, and all that. But when the 
 foreigner is such a man as Vindoboni, the heiress gets a good husband, and our 
 society a great accession, and a model. 
 
 Mrs. D. Pretty high praise that — very liberal indeed as from one gentleman 
 to another. 
 
 Hn. It don't apply, you understand, to all foreigners indiscriminately. 
 
 Hay. Certainly not. Foreign society, taken as a mass, is no better than our 
 own, in many places not so good. But Europe does produce this specific thing, 
 the elegant man of society, in greater perfection than we have it. 
 
 (Enter Glumly. Bows to Mrs. and Miss C, and shakes hands with Mr. C) 
 
 Mr. C. You come last, Mr. Glumly, like the king. 
 
 G. Truly sir, I have no such pretension ; and besides, there are half a dozen 
 guests or more still in the dressing-room. 
 
 Mrs. C. Well, we won't wait for them. Mr. Glumly, you are expected to 
 furnish forth this evenings entertainment. 
 
 G- Madam, my humble powers are all at your disposal. 
 Mrs. C. Gallantly said. Now, sir, I call upon you first to recite, or read 
 us something of your own. Afterwards you shall read us the last act of the 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 G. After which, I suppose I shall be allowed to take supper with the company ? 
 (Several other guests enter and how to Mrs. C, and take off her attention for 
 the moment.) 
 
 J. H. (aside to Hn.) That's an unlucky hit ; there is to be no supper. 
 Hn. Tea and soft waffles, eh ? 
 J. H. I believe so. 
 G. Well, when shall I begin ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Immediately. This is recitation room, and then we'll pass into 
 the reading room, where all is prepared. 
 
 G. Very well. I will give you some verses I wrote yesterday, on a chance 
 meeting which saddened me. You know, Mrs. Campion, I have often been 
 crossed in love. 
 
 Mrs. C. Certainly. Am I not your confidante ? 
 
 G. Well, this was one of those obdurate ladies that used to reject me — the 
 best beloved of at least a dozen. Can you give me a miniature or something of 
 the sort. I must act a little — very little indeed. 
 Minetta. Here is a daguerreotype. 
 
 G. It will do. Only you are all to fancy it is a beautiful miniature of the 
 lady in question. (Places himself in a pensive attitudein a chair ; lays the min- 
 iature on the table near him. Miss Dubarre comes and places herself so as to 
 front him as near as she can.) 
 Glumly. — 
 
 The rose's sweetest glow has not 
 Departed from her cheek ; 
 Nor have those glorious eyes forgot 
 
 The tongues they used to speak ; 
 Yet certain changes time has wrought, 
 
 And on her lofty brow, 
 Are traces of maturer thought — 
 
 I think she'd take me now. 
 
 (Takes up the miniature, opens and looks at it.) 
 Years have not touched her loveliness, 
 
 Nor dim'd its gentle ray, 
 Nor made one grace or charm the less, 
 Since that all nameless day. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 31 
 
 All that she was is there — yet there 
 
 Is not the thing I loved, — 
 My own high dream of what, with care 
 
 And toil, she might have proved. 
 
 {Lays the miniature doivn.) 
 What canvass hope had there to fill — 
 
 What schemes my fancy drew, 
 When those rich energies were still 
 
 Elastic, pliant, new. 
 To concentrate, to guide, advance, 
 
 Impel their glittering train, 
 Presumptuous was the wish, perchance — 
 
 At all events 'twas vain. 
 
 Miss D. That's beautiful. 
 
 Mrs. C. Be-a-u-ti-ful! (£?. bows and goes on.) 
 
 She deemed herself a pearl, more worth 
 
 Than all the sons of men, 
 And might have been — oh Heaven and earth ! 
 
 What might she not have been ! 
 But cheated of its food, her mind 
 
 Hath nearly fared like him, 
 The self adoring youth, who pined 
 Upon the fountain's brim. 
 J. H. Narcissus. 
 H'n. ilupert Hay. 
 
 Miss D. Oh, gentlemen, how can you? 
 G— * 
 
 She trusted all too much to Heaven, 
 
 Nor deemed she'd aught to do — 
 But nature who had promise given 
 
 Would give performance too. 
 As if our minds grew rife and rich, 
 
 Even like the unweeting grain, 
 Pour'd from the summer clouds, to which 
 Comes eke the latter rain. 
 Miss D. Is not that admirable ? 
 Mary H. It is very good, certainly. 
 G.— 
 
 Her soul, that might have risen to seek 
 
 The founts Minerva used, 
 Lull'd by the praises of a clique, 
 
 Deluded, mock'd, amused — 
 Idle, with undeveloped powers 
 And unexpanded wings, 
 Flung all to waste those precious hours, 
 And missed those holy springs. 
 
 She sought her Phrenix mate in vain, 
 
 And;now that chase is over, 
 1 think she haply might be fain 
 
 To take a mortal lover. 
 I will not have her now — I'll try 
 
 My skill some fair to reach, 
 That's young enough to learn when I 
 
 Am old enough to teach. 
 
 Miss D. Oh,[that is excellent ! But there's a deal of spite in that last stanza» 
 
 that must have come from old wounds. I'm afraid there's truth under all this, 
 
 Mr. Glumly. 
 All. Excellent — very good — admirably delivered. (G. bowing.) 
 Mrs. C. Well, ladies and gentlemen, we'll retire now to the next room and 
 
 take a cup of tea, after which we will put those fine tones in further requisition. 
 
 {Takes Hit's arm and threads the way, and all follow.) 
 
32 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. Re-enter Hartington, and soon after Minetta. 
 
 Hn. Did you speak to her, Miss Minetta? 
 
 Min. Yes, she'll be here directly. [Exit. H'n. walks tip and down look- 
 ing anxiously at the door. 
 
 (Enter Charlotte.) 
 
 H'n. (taking her hand.) Dear Charlotte — did you get our notes this after- 
 
 noon 
 
 C Yes. 
 
 H'n. Well, and what have you resolved on ? 
 
 C. Oh, Hartington, I hardly dare speak the words. We have resolved to 
 do all you ask. 
 
 H'n. Bravely resolved. Now, we must not talk long here — all the arrange- 
 ments are made. Minetta will tell you, and she goes with us. 
 
 C. She goes with us ! 
 
 Hn. Yes — it is the oddest thing in the world. She and you, with Jacob. 
 She will explain. You must hasten back before your absence and mine are 
 much observed. I'll go round and come in by a different door. 
 
 [Exit Charlotte. Exit Hn. 
 
 Scene IV. — Glumly's room. Glumly in morning gown and slippers. Enter 
 
 Barbow. 
 
 G. Ah, Barbow! how are you this morning ? 
 
 B. Very well ; how goes it with you, after your dissipation ? 
 
 G. Very dissipated, indeed. You mean the reading party ? 
 
 B. Yes. 
 
 G. We assembled between eight and nine, had tea and soft waffles, and I 
 read myself hollow with the Merchant of Venice, and they sent us home sup- 
 perless at eleven. 
 
 B. Lenten entertainment. But perhaps you got some indemnity other- 
 wise. Were the ladies very kind to you ? 
 
 G. Some of them were. I thought the Hollybushes were rather silent and 
 distant. Hartington does not like me, and I suppose they catch feelings from 
 him now. 
 
 B. How did Miss Dubarre treat you? 
 
 G. Oh, she was all smiles and compliments. I never liked her so well. 
 I recited something of my own, and she admired it, to my full satisfaction. 
 
 B. Smiled upon you, too ? 
 
 G. Yes, she was as gay and pleasant as possible. 
 
 B. Ah, ah ! Well, (rising and walking up and down, and examining Glumly 
 as he speaks,) well, there is a good deal about you to smile upon. And if Miss 
 Dubarre chooses to do so, there is every reason in the world why you should 
 reciprocate. 
 
 G. So I should think. Don't you want me to try another experiment!— 
 write another letter this morning, eh ? 
 
 B. No, I don't 
 
 G. And before the ink is dry, have Vansittart perhaps drop in and tell us 
 he is engaged to Miss Nancy Dubarre, eh ? 
 
 B. No, no, I tell you. Allow me to pursue the train of my own reflections. 
 Your fate is in my hands. 
 
 G. Is it so ? 
 
 B. Yes, and Miss Nancy Dubarre's. 
 
 G. (ironically.) Powerful magician ! 
 
 B. Yes, powerful magician. " For such there be, but unbelief is blind," — 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 33 
 
 (taking a paper from his pocket.) Here is a talisman which shall exercise an 
 influence upon both of you all your lives. And before I quit you, you will ap- 
 preciate its powers as I do. 
 
 G. You are a man of strange words. Have you had your breakfast ? 
 
 B. Yes. 
 
 G. Ambrosia, I suppose. 
 
 B. No, sausages. But to resume. This talisman — 
 
 G. (snatching at it but missing ) Damn your talisman ! Come, come, Bar- 
 bow, you are contriving to get me into some new folly. Out with it, speak 
 plain and I will answer you. 
 
 B. Glumly, are you tired of this magazine ? 
 
 G. You know very well I am. 
 
 B. You would assuredly throw it up if you were otherwise provided for. 
 
 G. Most assuredly. 
 
 B. Very well, I want it. Now, draw me up an assignment, and I will be- 
 stow on you, by unfolding this paper, the hand and fortune of Miss Nancy 
 Dubarre. 
 
 G. Bah ! Haven't you done with that nonsense yet ? 
 
 B. Yes, and I will begin with the sense. You are engaged to be married 
 to Miss Dubarre. 
 
 G. I am not. 
 
 B. You are, and do not know it. You have proposed, and she has con- 
 sented, but the matter hangs there, an unsolved mystery, till I speak. Do you 
 know this letter? — (Hands him the paper.) 
 
 G. It is a copy of my unfortunate composition of yesterday, apparently. — 
 Did you make it out from memory ? 
 
 B. No : I copied it, with the original under my eye. 
 
 G. I saw you put the original in the fire before you left me. 
 
 B. You saw me burn the envelope But the letter I kept, and I sent it to 
 Miss Dubarre ; your own hand-writing, signed with your name. Now read it, 
 and you will perceive that the thing is growing serious. 
 
 G. (rising, and seizing his arm.) Barbow, is this thing true ? 
 
 B. As true as fate. 
 
 G. You sent her that letter ! But did she receive it? Are you sure she 
 received it? 
 
 B. I took good care of that. I had it put into her own hands. Now read 
 it out to me 
 
 G. (sitting down — agitated.) Read it to me. 
 
 B. " Dear lady — It is not without a consciousness of extreme presumption, 
 that I venture to offer to one, placed as you are, the homage of another adorer. 
 I have hoped, indeed, and feared by turns, that through the cold forms of society, 
 your quick eye may have divined the deep feelings those forms restrained ; but 
 I cannot leave this any longer in doubt. I am urged by an impulse too strong for 
 forms, to send you this brief declaration, that I may know positively that you know 
 that my life is in your hands, and may find in your smiles or frowns, when we next 
 meet, the unequivocal oracle of my destiny. Your's devotedly, Rob'tA Glumly." 
 
 G. " Placed as you are." 1 wonder what she thought I meant by that. 
 
 B. I don't very well know what it meant when you wrote it. 
 
 G. I alluded to Miss Hollybush's high position in society. But that don't 
 apply so well to Miss Dubarre ; and besides, the affair with Milbury is fresh — she 
 may think that T meant that. 
 
 B. The devil ! — no. She would interpret all for the best. You see she 
 did, indeed, by her conduct. 
 
 G. Yes, the unequivocal oracle was favorable enough. 
 
 B. I would have paid well to see the scene. You calm, collected, uncon- 
 scious, reciting and reading, and taking her compliments, and fifty others, with 
 equal indifference. She all in a flutter, full of significant smiling and nods, and 
 becks all lost, or only to thaw out upon your unapprehensive brain, after ten 
 hours time, in the genial warmth of my presence — 
 
 G. (not attending to him.) It is a very strange position. 
 
 3 
 
34 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 B. Yes, to have the ice all broken for you, and the chill taken off the water. 
 No fears ol a cold reception now. 
 
 G. No possibility of getting into hot water, think you? 
 B. Bah ! not the least, (Jet your breakfast, man — put your coat on — and 
 go and make assurance sure: after that we'll talk about the magazine^ 
 Go where glory waits live. 
 But when success elates thee, 
 
 Oh, then, remember me ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Hat's room- Hay alone. (Enter Hartington.) 
 
 Hay. Oh ! I've been expecting you are home. 
 
 H'n. All's right! carriage engaged; church and clergyman bespoken ; we 
 shall be fairly wedded this evening. 
 
 Hay. I'm glad to hear it. 
 
 H'n. The girls are to stroll into Thompson and Weller's at four o'clock. 
 We shall be waiting there, with two coaches ready in Washington Place ; we 
 shall pass out, merely bowing to them, and get into one ; and they will follow, 
 and take the other. 
 
 Hay. By themselves ? 
 
 H'n. No; Minetta Campion goes with them. 
 
 Hay. Minetta Campion ! 
 
 H'n. Yes ; and Jacob Hollybush with us. They are to be married also. 
 
 Hay. What an astonishing arrangement! What need have Jacob Holly- 
 bush and Minetta Campion to elope ? 
 
 Hn. Only the frolic, I suppose; or to matronize Charlotte and Mary. 
 
 Hay. It's very kind. Whose whim is it ? Minetta's? 
 
 H'n. Yes; when she heard of Mr. Hollybush's proceedings, she broke out 
 violently upon Jacob, and wanted him to interfere. He would'nt; and she 
 vowed that the hour of our marriage should be that of hers. 
 
 Hay. And he agreed to that? 
 
 H'n. Yes; he did not care. He is perfectly indifferent about such matters. 
 If the thing he does is right, he neither cares what the form is, nor what 
 anybody says or thinks. He goes for the substantial. 
 
 Hay. Yankee all over. But I should have thought he would have tried to 
 mollify Robert. 
 
 H'n. No; he has explained himself about that. Many years ago he gave 
 Robert some advice in an important, matter; and one where a lady was con- 
 cerned. He gave information, too, that showed his advice was sound, and 
 Robert took it ; but Jacob says he never forgave him. 
 
 Hay. Never ? 
 
 H'n. No ; there was a perceptible coolness for some years ; and Jacob says 
 he knows the traces of the feeling exist in the old man's mind yet. 
 
 Hay. That seems like insanity. 
 
 H'n. Probably Jacob's discoveries were mortifying to his pride. Probably 
 he was going to commit some egregious folly. 
 
 Hay. He has a very strange temper — so courteous, so mild, in general, and 
 then Mich devilish caprices. 
 
 H'n. Jacob snys now, he will not meddle in this affair of ours, for good nor 
 evil. He is to see us elope ; go with us, and he married himself at the same 
 time ; but he shuts his eyes at our doings, or, at least, what suits us as well, he 
 shuts his mouth. 
 
 Hay. Very well. It's odd ; but I don't think it's disagreeable. By the 
 way, I must go down and engage a parlour, and our rooms at the Astor. 
 
 H'n. I'll go along. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Mrs. Dubarre's parlour. Miss D. alone. Servant brings in a 
 
 card. 
 
 Miss D. Mr. Glumly, ah ! Show the gentleman up. 
 Servt. Yes, madam. (Exit; after a moment enter Glumly.) 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 35 
 
 G. Good morning, Miss Dubarre. I hope I am not deranging your morn- 
 ing occupations. 
 
 Miss D. {embarrassed.) No sir ; not particularly, sir. 
 
 G. Miss Dubarre, I took a liberty yesterday — I took a step — {Hesitates.) 
 
 Miss D. Sir! 
 
 G. I took a step yesterday, with much apprehension of the result ; a step 
 which I feared my footing here would not justify — 
 
 Miss D. Oh, sir ! 
 
 G. But the rarity of opportunities like the present — the impossibility of 
 preventing interruptions. 
 
 Miss D. Oh! no more apologies — 
 
 G. The written thought cools, Miss Dubarre. I had a brain of fire yester- 
 day when I penned those lines. I could have spoken movingly ; but I wrote 
 
 I know not how. Say you have forgiven me. 
 
 Miss D. There was nothing to forgive. 
 
 G. There is everything to hope then, {seizing her hand.) Your smiles last 
 night, and your kind words this morning, have made me the happiest of men. 
 
 Miss D. Indeed, Mr. Glumly, {disengaging her hand,) indeed you are 
 wrong to remind me of that. I certainly did smile last night, but you — you did 
 not seem to understand me. 
 
 G. Dearest lady, how can you start such an idea? Amid all that gossip, 
 and recitation, and reading, where half the time all eyes were on me as a per- 
 former, could 1 presume to show any thankfulness for your kindness there? 
 It would have seemed like an attempt to publish it. 
 
 Miss D. But I grew tired of being kind to no purpose ; and the latter part 
 of the evening I was cross — you might at least have discovered that. 
 
 G. Dear lady, so I did ; but I thought your altered demeanor was a hint to 
 me to keep my distance. I took your first smiles for smiles of promise ; and 
 then your frowns seemed to say, keep dark. 
 
 Miss D. You have your answers ready. It is impossible to quarrel with 
 you. {Gives himher hand.) Are you sincere and constant. 
 
 G. Sincere [ am, aad constant I will be. My constancy in love is hitherto 
 untried. t 
 
 Miss D. Oh, that is impossible! 
 
 G No; I have a calm spirit, that can bide its time; but a strong one, that * 
 can v.se the time when it comes. Why should that be impossible ? 
 
 Miss D. But you have wandered through the world so much — through, so 
 many societies — all full of beauty and attraction. 
 
 G. True, lady ; but always with a model in my heart of something I sought, 
 and did not find. I have found it now. Do you think I would ofit'er you a 
 rejected hand — a soiled and cast-off heart. * 
 
 Miss D. It might have been cast, off, and yet not soiled. The heart makes 
 mistakes sometimes, and corrects them, and is itself again. 
 
 G. {Aside) Oh, Milbury, what a devil of a blunder! {To her.) True, 
 Miss Dubarre, the heart may be misled, and right itself, and be the purer. 
 But man's heart is the leader: he should go always right; and when he fixes, 
 fix forever. 
 
 Miss D I hear my sister's voice — leave me now, Mr. Glumly. I shall go 
 over to Minetta's bye-and bye. Adieu. 
 
 G. Adieu. {Kisses her hand, and exit.) 
 
 Scene VII. — The street before Mrs. Dubarre's house. Barbow waiting. 
 Enter Glumly from the house. 
 
 B. {Coming to meet him.) At last. Well, is all settled ? 
 G. All is settled, I think, definitively. 
 B. Did you get on smoothly ? 
 
 G. Tolerably ; but I had not had time to study my ground ; and I got into 
 one or two hobbles. 
 B. And out again ? 
 
 • 
 
36 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 G. Yes; thanks to nonsense, which I talked abundantly. I wonder wher 
 it all comes from. 
 
 B. I don't know. But I know where a good deal of it goes. 
 
 G. Where ? 
 
 B. Into the magazine. And I have been waiting here to talk to you about that. 
 
 G. By heaven, Barbow, you are intolerable. Are you beginning already to 
 dun me for the assignment? 
 
 B. I am entitled to it now. 
 
 G. Not at all. I will give it you when I have made sure of something else. 
 But I can't throw away my crutch, because I have bespoken a carriage. 
 
 B. Well, then, when your carriage comes home ? 
 
 G. Yes, then I will redeem my promise. 
 
 B. See that you do. I might make you do it sooner, but I forbear. 
 
 G. Make me do it sooner ? 
 
 B. Certainly ; here is my talisman. (Shoivs the copy of the letter.) 
 
 G. Ah, that is your talisman. And you have thus a certain power over 
 me, eh ? 
 
 B. Precisely. 
 
 G. And you can make me do things, eh ? 
 
 B. Perhaps so. 
 
 G. And having made proof of your power by making me do one thing, in 
 process of time you may perhaps ask for another ? 
 
 B. No, that I shall not. 
 
 G. And you will hold your talisman over my head all the rest of my days — 
 harrassing, threatening, tyrannizing? — 
 
 B. No, no, no. 
 
 G. Levying black-mail ? — 
 
 B. No, no, in the devil's name. 
 
 G. Yes, Mr. Barbow, yes, in the devil's name. But I won't stand it, and 
 we'll settle this thing now. Give me that paper. 
 
 B. Excuse me. 
 
 G. Give it to me, or by heaven, before this sun sets, 1*11 put the magazine 
 beyond your power and mine. Give it to me.T&(Hesitates, then gives it up. 
 G. tears it to bits.) Bah, if you make such a point of it. 
 
 ^*. So far, so good. But you could write out another from memory, 
 ■j» could'nt you ? 
 5 £f. I suppose I could. 
 
 V* «p. Do it if you dare. Go to Miss Dubarre, tell her the whole story about 
 that letter — she won't believe it all, but you will make me some trouble — you 
 will make rather more for yourself^ Be calm, Mr. Glumly — there is no need 
 of all this heat. 
 
 G. Calm, sir — damnation ! If you utter a word to me, or give me a hint about 
 that consignment before I'm ready to give it to you — before I volunteer to offer 
 it — I swear to you, you never shall have it at all. And if you threaten me 
 again, I'll break all your bones into dice. 
 
 B. Very well, sir. 
 
 G. I believe I understand such matters. I have not edited a two-penny 
 paper for nothing. I know the ways of the town, and especially how to stave 
 off black-mail. (Shakes his stick at B. and exit.) 
 
 B. It seems he does. (Exit.) 
 
 Scene VIII. — Mrs. Campions house. Minetta and Miss Dubarre. 
 
 Minetta. But, dear Nancy, is not all this very sudden ? 
 
 Miss D. Sudden, dear — oh, not at all. I was very much taken with Mr. 
 Glumly the first time I ever saw him, and I do believe I made an impression at 
 the same time on him. 
 
 Minetta. That's happy. 
 
 Miss. D. Yes, he always showed n preference for me when he had an op- 
 portunity. His approaches were so quiet, and so gradual; he is a person of 
 great delicacy of sentiment. 
 
 Cr 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 37 
 
 Minetta. No doubt of it. Did you expect a declaration when it came ? 
 
 Miss D. Not at that moment. But you know, dear Minetta, when we have 
 a prisoner, we can always see pretty nearly what he is thinking about ; he can't 
 take us much by surprise. •». ■, 
 
 Minetta. No — they have very transparent heads, these lovers. 
 
 Miss D. And when the crisis approaches — when we've played off all our 
 coy airs, and got quite ready to surrender, then we make them believe the/ery 
 contrary. 
 
 Minetta. When we work them up into heroics. 
 
 Miss D. Yes, or tragics, or romantics, just any shape of passionate demon- 
 stration we prefer. Then comes the declaration which they think they make, 
 poor fellows. Why, it is nothing but a tune we play upon them. 
 
 Minetta. Did you manage Mr. Glumly so ? 
 
 Miss D. Certainly. I put reason, passion, hope, fear and jealousy by turns 
 into his behavior, just as systematically as a cook would put salt and pepper 
 into soup. Did you not do so with Mr. Holly bush ? 
 
 Minetta. Of course I did ; and I spiced the soup pretty freely sometimes. 
 
 Miss D. Bless the men, they know but very little who gives them their 
 ideas. I mean to keep the spice-box after marriage. Minetta. 
 
 Minetta. So do I. We are to be endowed with their worldly goods, you 
 know, but not with their heavy wits. 
 
 Miss D. Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Minetta. But now, dear, I have something very particular to tell you. I am 
 to be married this evening. 
 
 Miss D. This evening ! 
 
 Minetta. Yes, this very evening. And so must you. 
 
 Miss D. Impossible ! Oh, Minetta — 
 
 Minetta. Yes, you must. Here's company coming — come up to my room, 
 and I'll tell you. There's a party of us — 
 
 (Enter John.) 
 John. Mr. Glumly. 
 
 Minetta. Show him up. There's a party of us going to elope. 
 Mm D. Elope ! 
 
 Minetta. Yes, yes — but I can't tell you now. (Enter Glumly.) Mr. 
 Glumly, excuse us a few moments. I'll send word to mamma you are here. 
 I've something to say to Nancy, and all for your interest, I assure you. 
 
 [G. bows. Exit M. and Miss. D. 
 
 (G. walks up and down. After a few moments, Enter Mrs. C.) 
 
 Mrs. C. Good morning, Mr. Glumly. Much obliged to you for our pleasant 
 entertainment last evening. I hope you did not over-exert your voice. 
 
 G. No, madam, thank you ; but if I had, I received a tribute of sweet voices 
 that would have restored it. 
 
 Mrs. C. Very pretty. Have you been down Broadway, to-day ? 
 
 G. Yes, as far as the New-York Club. 
 
 Mrs. C. Ah, you go to the Young Men's Club. What did you find there. 
 
 G. Oh, some boys — regular New-York boys. Their hats and coats were 
 most of them unexceptionable. 
 
 Mrs. C. Why, you did not converse with hats and coats, did you ? 
 
 G. Not directly. But the hats and coats did furnish most of the conversa- 
 tion, Horses, to be sure, and billiards. 
 
 Mrs. C. And a little about parties and balls. 
 
 G. Yes, and about young girls, and their respective attractions and fortunes. 
 I wish the young girls would hear — 
 
 Mrs. C. Mr. Glumly, shall we never have any intellectual men in our society ? 
 
 G. Yes, madam, when New-York is as large as Paris. 
 
 Mrs. C. Not till then ? 
 
 G. Oh, that's not so very long. But the intellectual and educated man is 
 a rare combination. You only get one out of a great many thousauds. 
 
38 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Mrs. C So I have discovered. 
 
 G. Well, but we shall get enough bye-and-bye to form a circle, notwith- 
 standing; and when we do, that circle will exercise a mighty influence. 
 
 Mrs. C. Will it disp|£a|fe those young men you spoke of, or improve their talk ? 
 
 G. Yes ; knowledge, education, taste and refinement even, are penetrating 
 the whole mass of our population. Set up a good nucleus, and young men will 
 come forth from every class of our society, and take their places with the best. 
 
 Mrs. C. Will the ladies consent to that ? 
 
 G. Yes; they will appreciate strong understandings and trained minds, and 
 they will be the first to prefer them to a pack of idle blockheads, whose educa- 
 tions have been done by contract, by fashionable school-masters. 
 
 Mrs. C. Well, it may be so. 
 (Enter Minetta and Miss D. Miss D. hows to G. and exit. Minetta 
 
 detains him.) 
 
 Minetta. Mr. Glumly, Miss Dubarre desires you to remain here a mo- 
 ment. Mamma, I'm going out shopping, and I will take Mr. Glumly along, with 
 your permission. I have something special to arrange with him. 
 
 Mrs. C. Very well, dear. [Exit G. and Minetta. Scene closes. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I — Old Hollteush's house. Charlotte and Mary and Jacob 
 
 Hollybush. 
 
 C Oh, uncle Jacob, what a strange arrangement. 
 
 J. H. It's Minetta's doing, not mine — 
 
 C. That you should go with us, you and Minetta — indeed we were very glad 
 of that. That seemed a sort of sanction to the very bold step we are taking. 
 But Mr. Glumly ! Oh, dear, dear, and Nancy Dubarre ! 
 
 M. How could you consent to it, Uncle ? — 
 
 /. H. I consent to nothing, propose nothing, oppose nothing. My affair is 
 to marry Minetta, when and where she pleases. I take no cognizance of the 
 parties that may go along. 
 
 M. Have Hartington and Rupert been informed of this? 
 
 /. H. Yes, and they behave, about it, much as you do. They do not like 
 it ; but to get rid of it now, it would be necessary to change the whole arrange- 
 ment, and perhaps make a mortal quarrel. 
 
 M. Nancy Dubarre has no occasion to run away. She is her own mistress. 
 
 J. H. Neither has Minetta — neither have I. We are all amateurs. 
 
 C. We are not. Papa has driven us to this. Oh, uncle ! you have no idea 
 how he has treated us the last day or two. 
 
 J. H. Haven't I ? Indeed I know my brother well, and I love him well; 
 but I have never seen caprices of temper like his. 
 
 M. Charlotte, have you that letter ? 
 
 C. Yes, here it is. 
 
 J. H. For your father ? 
 
 C. Yes. 
 
 / H. Let me see it. 
 
 C. It is sealed ; but I can tell you what is in it. 
 
 M. It is a letter of adieu — of deprecation — of excuse, so far as we can offer 
 any without offending him too much. 
 
 C. It represents to him that we are under solemn promises already, which 
 he has given us no sufficient reasons for recalling — that our faith is plighted to 
 our future husbands, and our highest duty is henceforth to them. 
 
 J: H. It won't be his opinion. 
 
 M. Dear uncle ! 
 
 J. H. Dear girls, don't argue the matter with me. I'm only a spectator. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 39 
 
 C. Well, Mary, carry the letter to papa's room, and leave it on his table. 
 
 M. He's there himself. 
 
 C. Asleep ? 
 
 M. Yes, on the sofa — and the door open. I saw him as I came down. 
 
 C. Well, no matter; only don't wake him. {Exit Mary.) What o'clock is 
 it, uncle Jacob ? 
 
 J. H. Ah! that begins to be an important question. It is near half past 
 three. I must call on Minetta again, and then to the rendezvous at Thompson 
 & Weller's. (Exit.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene II. — Thompson & Weller's shop. Hat and Hartington. 
 
 Hay. We are a little before our time. 
 
 H'n. Not much. It's a bore, this — about Glumly. 
 
 Hay. Why, Glumly is not to blame. Miss Campion managed the whole 
 matter for him. and forced it upon him : so says uncle Jacob. 
 
 H'n. You have it quite pat already — " Uncle Jacob. ' 
 
 Hay. He and his intended are a couple of originals. I don't know two peo- 
 ple who care so little what anybody says or thinks. 
 
 H % n. Unless it be Glumly and Miss Dubarre. 
 
 Hay. Miss Dubarre, yes ; but not Glumly. Glumly is vain and sensitive. 
 Don't be savage to him now. Remember he does not intrude here by his own 
 choice. 
 
 H'n. Four elopements together ! When was that known before? 
 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Good day, gentlemen. 
 
 Hay and H'n. Good day. 
 
 Hay. We are to have your company, Mr. Glumly, in this rather extraor- 
 dinary party ? 
 
 G. Yes, if you will accept it — and I believe you must; for the ladies have so 
 decreed. 
 
 H'n. Have you seen Mr. Jacob Hollybush ? 
 
 G. Here he comes. 
 
 (Enter J. H.) 
 
 /. H. Well, gentlemen, I bring you the very last news. The ladies are all 
 ready; my nieces are to call for Miss Campion, and Miss Dubarre is waiting 
 for them with her. In fifteen minutes, or half an hour at farthest, they will be here. 
 
 Hay. What shall we do in the meantime? 
 
 G. Take a cup of chocolate and make ourselves comfortable. Here are the 
 evening papers. [ They seat themselves, and the scene closes. 
 
 Scene III. — Old Hollybush's house. Mary and Charlotte, with their 
 
 hats on. 
 
 C. Ah, Mary, it is time to go. 
 
 M. Why, let us go then. 
 
 C. I cannot. This dear old home, when shall we see it again ? Do you 
 think papa will let us come home ? 
 
 M. Yes, Charlotte, I do. But let us go. I have thought about all that, and 
 cried about it, too, and now that's over — let us go. 
 
 C. Dear father — he has been very unkind just now, but he loves us dearly, 
 and we shall grieve him deeply. 
 
 M. Yes; but he will send for us again to comfort him, and we shall come. 
 He will forgive us, and all will be well. Come, Charlotte, cheer up, and let us 
 go. (As they pass toward the door, it opens, and old Hollybush comes in with 
 the letter open in his hand.) 
 
 C. and M. Oh ! 
 
 O. H. (looking at them a moment, then speaks.) Still here, my daughters ? 
 I thought you had eloped. 
 
40 
 
 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C. and M. Oh, papa! 
 
 O. H. I had a dream, or warning of some sort. — Ah, I believe it was a let- 
 ter. It said you were going to quit the poor, helpless old man, and look for 
 gayer quarters. 
 
 C. (sobbing, and throwing herself upon his neck.) Oh, dear papa, dear 
 papa. {Mary stands apart, and silent.) 
 
 O. H. (putting Charlotte into a chair.) There was a time, when I did not 
 expect this ; there was a time when I thought I had a treasury of love in my 
 children's heart's that would last^out my days, and the days of mourning after 
 them. But no. 
 
 C. Oh, yes ; dear father, yes. 
 
 O. H. Fathers should know their place; they should not give advice, nor 
 exercise authority; they should not check folly, nor foretell misfortune; they 
 should first let the mischief be done, and then sacrifice themselves to remedy it. 
 
 C. Oh, father, you will break our hearts. 
 
 M. Not mine ; at least, not in that manner. 
 
 O. H. Not yours, hard-hearted girl ? Do you stand there, like a statue, and 
 defy me ? Do you contrive a plot to ruin yourself — to run straight into perdition, 
 from the shelter of your father's house, and then look me in the face and justify it ? 
 
 M. I can justify all I have done, and all I intend to do. It would be well 
 for you and for us, father, if you could do the same. 
 
 O. H. Justify ! — 1 — justify ! Shall I stand up before my children, like 
 a criminal, and take my trial for having exercised a parent's authority? And 
 receive sentence, I suppose, on my knees ? 
 
 M. I don't know how to answer exclamations, nor irony. But if I should 
 confess that we had been wrong, would you allow me then to ask you to judge 
 yourself — to seek in your own bosom for evidence, and see if you were not 
 wrong first? 
 
 O. H. {walks up and down in silence, then stops and addresses Mary with 
 affected calmness ) How have I been wrong ? 
 
 M. In attempting to govern us by force — by absolute commands — without 
 reasons — and by restraints upon our personal liberty. 
 
 O. H. Was it not all for your own good ? 
 
 M. You thought so, but we differ as to that. 
 
 O. H We do, indeed. Indeed, indeed we differ. And you should have 
 had your way, and I was wrong, of course. 
 
 M. {taking his hand.) Father, if you meet me with sarcasm, my courage 
 will break down, and we shall never understand each other. Let me speak 
 plainly, and answer me kindly. 
 
 O. H. Proceed. 
 
 M. Nay, father ; you have been very unkind to us. You have not 
 been consistent. You allowed us to form these intimacies first, and then the 
 intimacies to ripen into attachments, and the attachments became engagements, 
 before we ourselves were fairly aware of it. You should have spoken sooner, 
 — a great deal sooner. 
 
 O. H. Had I not distinctly reserved my right to veto ? 
 
 M. Yes, long ago ; but you let it sleep until it died. You let the time go 
 by till your silence became a sanction. 
 
 0. H. And that sanction cannot now be retracted ? 
 
 M. No; certainly. 
 
 O. H Not if I had discovered circumstances never known to me before ? 
 Not if I had the proof that you had made your engagements, not with poverty 
 merely, but with perpetual misery and dishonor ? 
 
 M Sf C Dishonor ! 
 
 O. H. Yes ; with dishonor. I did not intend to speak out to you so soon ; 
 I meant to have investigated more deeply, and to have shown you proofs when I 
 should speak ; but 1 tell you, your faith is given to dishonorable men. 
 
 C Oil, Mary, what will become of us? 
 
 M. Let us know the truth. Tell us what is this dishonor? Dear father, 
 you have suid too much now to leave us further in suspense. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 41 
 
 O. H. I will tell you. These young men have wasted their means, and 
 they pick up a dishonorable living by borrowing. Borrowing what they cannot 
 pay, and accumulating hopeless insolvency. Will you wed yourselves to debt, 
 and for your lives ? It is the veriest fiend that walks in the ways of men. 
 
 M. How do you know that this is so ? 
 
 O. H. I have had hints from several quarters. But the confirmation came 
 from Vansittart. They attempted to get a loan of money last week, through him. 
 
 M. Does Vansittart say so ? 
 
 O. H. I said it to him, and he could not deny it. He prevaricated— he 
 showed a wish to deceive me — but he could not deny it. 
 
 M. It is not conclusive ; but it is enough to make us pause. 
 
 O. H. It is, indeed. You may well pause and hesitate before you make 
 your households with such an inmate. The debtor's pillow is all thorns — his 
 food is all spread with bitterness. His daily walks are a perpetual humiliation ; 
 the conversation that is addressed to him, a continual iusult. He sickens at 
 his life ; he hates the morning, because it brings back mortification ; and the eve- 
 ning, because his fireside is a reproach to him. All this he suffers ; and he 
 revenges it all upon — his wife. [Exit. 
 
 C. (kissing, and throwing herself into Mary's arms.) Oh, Mary, what 
 shall we do ? what shall we do ? 
 
 M. Bear up, Charlotte, or I shall sink too. {Bursts into tears, Charlotte 
 sustaining her, and sinks into a chair.) Oh, Charlotte, my strength gives way, 
 but not my spirits. 1 do not believe it. I do not believe it. There is some 
 dreadful mistake. [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene IV. — Thompson & Welleb's. Hat, Habtington, Glumly and 
 Jacob Holltbush. 
 
 G. (to J. H.) Here is the Herald. 
 
 /. H. Thank you ; I've read it through twice. 
 
 G. A pretty preparation that for your wedding. 
 
 Hay. I'm afraid something has happened. 
 
 /. H. I don't understand it. It's half- past five. 
 
 G. Mr. Hay, was that a Philadelphian I saw talking to you, to-day, in 
 Wall-street ? 
 
 Hay. Before the Exchange ? 
 
 G. Yes. 
 
 Hay. Yes. 
 
 G. I thought so. I can almost always tell them. 
 
 J. H. How ? 
 
 G. Oh, they look so band-boxy. That is, you know, the society men, the 
 stars of Chestnut-street. 
 
 Hay. Yes ; Philadelphia is the only place I know where the men of fashion 
 are generally dandies. 
 
 G. Yes; that's the word — dandies. Men that look rigged; that seem to 
 be thinking about their clothes. 
 
 J. H. Every city has its peculiarities. 
 
 Hn. What are ours ? 
 
 J. H. Oh, this is the metropolis. 1 mean the provincial cities. 
 
 G. In Boston, it is the inner man that they rig. 
 
 Hay. And the inner woman ? 
 
 G. Oh, certainly ! Logic and Latin, instead of ruffled shirts ; and trans- 
 cendentalism instead of Miss Lawson's hats and feathers. 
 
 J. H. Well, I think I can always tell a Boston woman when I hear her talk. 
 
 Hn. So can I. 
 
 G. They are so well informed, and so informing. So sure of what they 
 say ; and so precise and emphatic. 
 
 /. H. Even so. (Looks at his watch.) Ain t you tired of this conversation ? 
 
 G. Thank you; very. But what the devil can we do ? 
 
 J. H. I don't think we need stay here any longer. Something has certainly 
 
42 
 
 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 gone wrong. Let us all walk up to Mr. Campion's. You three stop in there, 
 and I will bring you word if anything has happened at my brother's. 
 
 All. Agreed. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Old Hollybush's house. Charlotte and Mary with their 
 workbaskets. Charlotte rings. {Enter John.) 
 
 C. John, is papa still in the breakfast room ? 
 
 John. Yes, madam. There's a gentleman with him on business. 
 
 C. Tell him we waut to speak to him before he goes down town. 
 
 John. Yes, madam, IE jit. 
 
 C. He is very angry with us still, Mary. 
 
 M. Yes. I was afraid at breakfast he would make a scene before the servants. 
 
 {Enter Old Hollybush.) 
 
 C. Papa, will you send Mr. Vansittart here this morning. 
 
 O. H. Yes, if you desire it. You are going to examine witnesses and take 
 depositions, and sift out facts for yourselves, are you ? 
 
 M. Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. Very well. Anybody else that I can summon to appear before you ? 
 Vansittart is below stairs now. 
 
 M. Yes, sir ; after we have seen Vansittart, we wish to see Mr. Harting- 
 ton and Mr. Hay. 
 
 O. H. Do you, indeed ? Then I must inform you that Mr. Hartington 
 and Mr. Hay shall never enter my doors again. 1 will send Vansittart up. He 
 will convince you of the truth if he won't speak it. And then, if you are not 
 satisfied, you ought to be; and there is an end. [Exit. 
 
 C. Oh, Mary ; how violent and unreasonable ! 
 
 M. If es, Charlotte ; but let us keep calm, and search this matt?r out. 
 
 {Enter Vansittart.) 
 
 V. Good morning, ladies. 
 
 C. and M. Good morning. 
 
 V. Your father mentioned that you had something to say to me. Can I be 
 of any use ? 
 
 M . Yes, Mr. Vansittart ; we want a piece of information, which, we are 
 told, it is in your power to give us. 
 
 V. On what subject, Miss Mary ? 
 
 M. It concerns Mr. Hay and Mr. Hartington. You must be aware by this 
 time that we have reason to interest ourselves in what relates to these gentlemen. 
 
 V. I am well aware of it. 
 
 M. Well, Mr. Vansittart, the fact is this — do they owe you money? 
 
 V. No. 
 
 M. Have you not borrowed money for them ? 
 
 V. If I have, Miss Mary, they would not owe me, but those from whom I 
 borrowed. 
 
 M. You do not answer the question. Do these young men get their living 
 by borrowing ? 
 
 V. Certainly not. 
 
 C. That is not the question. Mary. The question is, do they borrow money 
 at all that they cannot pay. 
 
 V. Certainly they do not. 
 
 C. Did they never do such a thing ? 
 
 V. Never. I think I may safely guarantee that. 
 
 M. But, Mr. Vansittart, papa says they did — and through your agency. 
 
 V. Oh, no, Miss Mary ; your father could not say exactly that. You have 
 misunderstood him. 
 
 C. But he is exceedingly displeased about it; and has forbidden their visits 
 here in consequence. 
 
 V. That is very strange. There was a transaction, a loan of a very large 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 43 
 
 sum of money ; your father lent it to Mr. Duperu. I negotiated the loan. But 
 your father had most ample security for the repayment. I cannot imagine how 
 that should have displeased him. 
 
 M. Was that money for Hay and Hartington ? 
 
 V. Oh, I forgot. Your father seemed to suspect it was ; and he asked me 
 some questions about it. Now, all that I knew in the matter, I knew profes- 
 sionally and confidentially. Of course I could say nothing. 
 
 C. But can they pay this money again ? 
 
 V. My dear Miss Charlotte, it was Mr. Duperu that borrowed the money, 
 and he gave full security for the repayment. 
 
 C. But if he gave it to Hay and Hartington, perhaps they cannot repay him. 
 
 V. You are a searching cross-examiner, Miss Charlotte ; but in this mat- 
 ter I am not at liberty to enter into details. 1 must ask you to take my word 
 for it, that it was an honorable transaction throughout and for all the parties. 
 
 C. Hay and Hartington included ? 
 
 V. (laughing.) Yes; if they had anything to do with it. And what you 
 tell me about your father surprises me very much. I thought the suspicions he 
 had would have raised those gentlemen in his estimation very much, instead of 
 the contrary. Can I be of any further service ? 
 
 C. Not now, Mr. Vansittart ; thank you. (Exit.) Now Mary, what do 
 you think of that ? 
 
 M. Why, that papa is entirely mistaken. 
 
 C. So it seems to me. 
 
 M. And he is determined not to be set right. 
 
 C It does appear so. What must we do? 
 
 M. Leave this house, Charlotte. I never would do it, so long as papa was 
 reasonable, and allow us free intercourse with our friends. But total separation, 
 and by force, too ! It is not to be thought of. 
 
 C. Where is uncle Jacob ? 
 
 M. I don't know. But he will not raise his finger for us. We must send 
 a message to Hay and Hartington, and the only messenger I can think of is Mr. 
 Glumly. 
 
 C. That is true. He is not the confidant 1 should choose ; but he is in so 
 deep already, it is better trusting him than telling more. 
 
 (Rings. Enter John.) 
 
 M. John, step over to Mr. Glumly's rooms, and say, we should like to speak 
 with him, and as soon as convenient. 
 
 John. Yes, madam. 
 
 M. John, say as soon as possible. 
 
 John. Yes, madam. [Exit. 
 
 C. Now, Mary, what are you going to say to Mr. Glumly ? 
 
 M. 1 am going to ask him simply to deliver a note to Hay, and to bring me 
 back the answer. 
 
 C- And what will you put in the note ? 
 
 M. Let us consider. (Arranging paper and pens.) " Dear sir : (ivriting,) 
 Last evening we were detained at home, by papa, until it was too late to walk 
 out, as we proposed." 
 
 C. Very well; and besides — 
 
 M. {wr'ding.) " And besides that, papa said some things to us which Mr. 
 Vansittart can explain to you, which made us hesitate at the step we were taking." 
 
 C Yes ; but we have seen Mr. Vansittart. 
 
 M. (ivriting ) " But we have seen Mr. Vansittart, and are satisfied with the 
 statements he has made to us." 
 
 C. And we wish you to know — 
 
 M. " Yes ; (writing,) and we wish you to know that our sentiments have un- 
 dergone no change. Yours, &c, j 
 
 C. That will do. Only there is not a word there about what we are to do next. 
 
 M. Runaway again 
 
44 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C. Oh, Mary ! 
 
 M. Certainly. Is there not a plain promise in the note ? 
 
 C. Why, Mary, there is not a word about it. 
 
 M. Certainly. " Our sentiments have undergone no change." Were not 
 
 those our sentiments ? 
 
 C. Well : but the proposal at least ought to come from them. 
 
 M. So it will ; and I will go up stairs and get ready. 
 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Good morning, ladies. 
 
 C. and M. Good morning, sir. 
 
 G. Can I be of service to you. ladies ? John brought me a message. 
 
 C Yes, Mr. Glumly ; there is no time just now for explanations ; but will 
 you hand this note to Mr. Hay ? 
 
 G. Certainly. 
 
 M. And will you do us the favor to bring his answer here ? 
 
 G. Certainly. 
 
 C. Because papa has given orders that he and Mr. Hartington are not to be 
 admitted here. ( To Mary.) You should have put that in the note. 
 
 M. They knew it yesterday. 
 
 G. Good morning, then, and au revoir. I will make all the haste I can. 
 
 [Exit. Scene closes. 
 
 Scenk VI. — Vansittart's rooms. Vansittart, Hay and Hartington. 
 
 Hay. So, that makes all this trouble. I cannot imagine what he finds amiss 
 in that. He said at the time, the voyage was most excellently planned. 
 
 V. Yes, he certainly said that. 
 
 Hn. And he is not the man to think the worse of us for getting up a good 
 voyage. Was it the smuggling part on the west Coast of Mexico, think you ? 
 
 V. No — he rather chuckled over the smuggling. I remember his remarks 
 about that 
 
 Hay. What did he say ? 
 
 V. Why, he said we should teach the Mexicans, after a while, that to lay 
 extravagant duties was the way to get goods brought in free of any. 
 
 Hn. Yes, he goes strong for free trade. But he had an idea, too, about 
 slave trading. 
 
 V. Oh, he did not think that. Such an idea crossed him, but he did not en- 
 tertain it for a moment. 
 
 Hay. If he did, we could easily set him right. 
 
 V. Set him right, indeed ! No you couldn't; let him think what he might. 
 You might as well set the vane the way you wanted the wind to blow. You 
 don't know him. 
 
 Hn. That would'nt change the wind, eh ? 
 
 V. No ; you know not whence it comes, nor whither it goes, and his opin- 
 ions are just as unaccountable. 
 
 Hay. Aud just as perverse, or a little more so. 
 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Mr. Hay, I have been looking for you. Here is a note that will interest 
 you. and I am requested to take charge of your answer. 
 
 Hay. (reads it and hands to Hartington.) What is to be done ? 
 
 Hn. (after reading.) All that was left undone last evening. 
 
 Hay. It is now eleven o'clock — shall we say twelve ? 
 
 Hn. Yes. 
 
 Hay. (to Glumly.) Same place — same arrangement — only let the ladies go 
 first. Do you understand ? 
 
 G. Perfectly. I'll go and make up the party. [Exit. 
 
 Hn. Hay, you had better write. 
 
 Hay. Perhaps so. I will go down to my room with him and give him a note 
 with all the particulars. [Exit. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 45 
 
 V. Mr. Glumly seems to be deep in your confidence. 
 
 H'n. Deeper than I wish, a good deal. But the fates seem to thrust him 
 upon me. I shall get used to him, I suppose. 
 
 V. Certainly. Apothecaries get fond of rhubarb. 
 H'n. Rhubarb has some virtues; but 1 doubt about Glumly. (Exit.) 
 
 [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene VII. — Hay's rooms. Hay alone. (Enter Hartington.) 
 
 H'n. Hay, have you arranged all that ? 
 
 Hay. Yes. 
 
 Hn. For twelve o'clock ? 
 
 Hay. Yes. 
 
 Hn. I've ordered the coaches. 1 hope we shan't make a miss of it this 
 time. 
 
 Hay. No ; I hope not. 
 
 Hn. Are we to be encumbered with Glumly, and his bride as well, and Mr. 
 Hollybush and his ? 
 
 Hay. Yes. I don't see any objection. On the contrary, I rather like the 
 joke. 
 
 Hn. I'm anxious, and not in a humor to take jokes. How do we proceed 
 then, exactly ? 
 
 Hay. Why, Charlotte and Mary leave their father's house about twelve, 
 they pass by here, we shall see them. They go on and call lor Minetta Cam- 
 pion — Miss Dubarre is to be there, then all four go to Thompson & Weller's 
 together. 
 
 Hn. And we follow immediately ? 
 
 Hay. We go down to Glumly 's rooms and take up him and Jacob Holly- 
 bush ; then we four go also to Thompson & Weller's. 
 
 Hn. Immediately? 
 
 Hay. Yes, the ladies will take a cup of chocolate, and we shall be there be- 
 fore it is finished. The rest follows of course. 
 
 Hn. Yes, when we once get as far as that, I believe we shall know what 
 to do. Have you seen Duperu to day ? 
 
 Hay. No. 
 
 Hn The Sarah Sands is in ; her letters I suppose are not distributed yet. 
 I wanted to go round and see what news, but now there will be no time. 
 
 Hay Oh, don't start otf'on any expeditions. Ir would nor, be very pleasant 
 for those ladies to be kept waiting at Thompson & Weller's after they ceased 
 to have any apparent reason for staying. 
 
 H'n. Indeed it wouid not. 1 have time, too, to go down to Duperu's But 
 you are rie;ht, and I won't. But 1 am a little anxious still about those Calcutta 
 bills. 
 
 Hay. They were all accepted. 
 
 Hn. Yes, but perhaps the house they are drawn on may fail. I want to 
 hear that they are paid. There have been so many failures. 
 
 Hay. Does this vessel decide it ? 
 
 H'n. Yes. 
 
 Hay. Well, we have other matters in hand now. I imagine it will all be 
 right. The house was safe up to the last steamer, and that brings it pretty near. 
 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Miss Mary requested me to say to you, gentlemen, that in case of any 
 possible accident or detention preventing us all from arriving in time, the ladies 
 will positively wait only a quarter of an hour at Thompson & Weller's. 
 
 Hn. That shows forethought; but 1 believe we shall be in time. 
 
 G. Most probably, but the ladies are still a little nervous from yesterday. 
 
 Hay. Well, we shall remember. [Exit G. Scene closes. 
 
46 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Old Hollybush's house. Charlotte and Mart. 
 
 C. There, I believe all is now arranged and ready. 
 
 M. I believe so. 
 
 C. I feel more composed than I did yesterday — more resolute. Papa's in- 
 temperate behaviour seems to me to justify what we are doing. When he 
 spoke kindly once or twice, yesterday, I thought my heart would break. 
 
 M. He might have conquered me, if he would have used gentle means. 
 
 C. I would bear anything, if he would not insist on interdicting all inter- 
 course with Hay and Haitingtou. But what are we to do ? We have given 
 them our hearts irrevocably, and we must keep our hold on their's. Absence 
 might change them. 
 
 M. I hope not ; but I am no more disposed to try it than you are. 
 
 C Farewell, old mansion ; we have had some happy days here. 
 
 M. Yes. and we will come back here and have some more. 
 
 C. Oh Mary, do you think so ? Will papa forgive us? 
 
 M. Yes, Charlotte; and you know it well enough. I would not leave him 
 even now, with all the good reasons I can give myself for doing it, if I were not 
 certain of coming back to him. No, nor would you. You know you would not. 
 
 C. He is very stern sometimes, but I do hope he will soften. Where is the 
 trunk? 
 
 M. John has it in charge. 
 
 C. What did you tell him? 
 
 M. I told him it was a trunk uncle Jacob would probably send for, and if he 
 did, to deliver it. Uncle Jacob will do as much as that for us, after we are 
 fairly married. 
 
 C. Yes, but he won't raise a finger for us now. 
 
 M. No — he observes the most conscientious neutrality possible. 
 
 C. Come, Mary, the hour has arrived ; let us'go forth and meet our destiny. 
 Adieu, adieu ! (looking around, and waving her hand to the various objects in the 
 room.) 
 
 M (doing the same.) Adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IX. Hay's Room. Hay and Hartington. 
 
 Hay. It is twelve o'clock. 
 
 Hn. Yes ; and there come Charlotte and Mary down the street. 
 
 Hay. Let us wait awhile, and not go out till they have had full time to get 
 in and arrive before us. 
 
 H'n. No; I suppose just now we may as well avoid being seen even near 
 them in the street. The old man map possibly be on the watch. 
 
 Hay. Oh, if he is watching, he'll trap us to a certainty. But let us avoid 
 accidents. (Knock at the door.) Come in. 
 
 (Enter Boy.) 
 
 Boy. Here's a note from Mr. Duperu. 
 
 Hay. Ah, give it me. (Reads.) " Dear sir, — I regret to say that the Sarah 
 Sands brings news of the failure of Chapman's house; and our Calcutta bills 
 have all come back protested." Is it possible ? 
 
 H'n. Is it possible ? 
 
 Hay. (reads.) " You see this makes it necessary for us to raise $30,000 
 more, as we must take up these bills ourselves ; and the money we raised on 
 the loan is all wanted for our second batch of notes, which fall due to-morrow." 
 
 H'n. Yes ; all but seven hundred dollars. 
 
 Hay. (reads.) " I wish you to come to me immediately. If I am to save 
 my credit to-morrow, there is not a moment to be lost." Indeed there is uot; 
 but what can we do about it ? 
 
 H'n. Duperu must stop payment. 
 
 Hay. (throwing himself into a chair.) What a dreadful blow! 
 
EARNING A LIV5NG. 47 
 
 Boy. Any answer, sir? 
 
 H'n. Yes ; tell Mr. Duperu we will come immediately. No — stop. Do 
 you know Mr. Glumly 's room ? 
 
 Boy. No, sir. 
 
 H'n. It's the white house on the corner below here, over the barber's. 
 
 Boy. And a toy-shop in the same building ? 
 
 H'n. Exactly. Run down there, {writes a line, and gives it to him) and 
 give that to Mr. Glumly. We will go to Mr. Duperu, and deliver our own 
 answer. [Exit boy. 
 
 Hay. What did you write ? 
 
 H'n. I wrote that an affair had occurred, involving a friend of ours, which 
 called on our instant attention — that it was so important, that even in these cir- 
 cumstances, the ladies would approve our failing in our appointment, as soon as 
 we could see them and explain. 
 
 Hay. Very well. They will be astonished ; but tbey will certainly pardon 
 us when they know all. Come. [Exi unt. 
 
 Scene X. — Duperu's Counting-house. Duperu alone. (Enter Hay and 
 
 Hartington.) 
 
 Hay and H'n. Good morning, Mr. Duperu. 
 
 .D. Good morning, gentlemen. A bad business this, I sent to you about. 
 
 H'n. How bad is it? Have all the bilis come back ? 
 
 D. Every one. 
 
 H'n. Have we money enough to take them up ? 
 
 I). Not if we pay our notes. 
 
 H'n. Of course ; but if not ? 
 
 D. Just enough. 
 
 H'n. I think the bills are entitled to a preference over the notes. The 
 notes are for goods we bought, and on which we paid the sellers a profit. It 
 seems fairer that they should take the risks of commerce. 
 
 D. I think so, too. 
 
 H'n. The people who bought our bills did not expect profit; they only 
 wanted to remit their money ; and their amounts are larger to each one, are 
 they not ? 
 
 I) Much larger. And there is another reason yet, which concerns us. If 
 the notes lie over, they only draw interest; but if we don't pay the bilis, they 
 will come upon us for the damages. 
 
 H'n. Why, they can do that, at any rate ; can they not? 
 
 D. Yes ; but they will not. If we pay promptly everybody will waive 
 damages. 
 
 H'n. Well, that is one more reason certainly. 
 
 Hay. It is a terrible situation we have got ourselves into. We might better 
 have let ships and voyages alone. 
 
 H'n. Why, Hay } except on Mr. Duperu's account, Ave are not so badly 
 off. The voyage will make this loss good, and more ; but the difficulty is, our 
 notes are all given by Mr. Duperu, in his own name; and his credit will lie de- 
 stroyed if they are not paid. 
 
 Hay. Ninety thousand dollars to pay, and nothing to pay with. 
 
 1). How ! ninety ? 
 
 Hay. Thirty in notes, thirty in bills, and thirty we borrowed of Mr. Ilolly- 
 bush. 
 
 D. Yes ; but that we have in bank, to kill off the notes or bills. The pres- 
 sure is for thirty — not ninety 
 
 Hay. Well, how are we to raise it? 
 
 D. I have but one dependence. 
 
 Hay. Mr. Holly bush? 
 
 D. Even him. 
 
 Hay. He won't raise his finger. He suspects that we are concerned in this 
 
48 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 affair, and he has taken so violent a prejudice against us, that he would be glad 
 to break you, for our sakes. 
 
 D. I hope not. I shall make out a statement of my affairs to show him ; 
 and I can convince him that he will be safe in lending me a hand. I can secure 
 him, too, in a great measure. 
 
 Hay. Well ; you can try. If he refuses, we are but where we were. 
 
 Hn. Do your letters give you any idea how Chapman's house is likely to 
 wind up ? 
 
 D. Not the least. They stopped on these bills first. The failure is just 
 announced, and my friends have heard no particulars. 
 
 Hay And the drawers ? 
 
 D. Oh, the drawers were their own house, in Calcutta. That goes for 
 nothing. Well, then, you think with me, that I should pay off the bills, and do 
 as I can with the notes. 
 
 H'n. I think so, decidedly. 
 
 Hay. And so do I. 
 
 D. Very well. Now I'll prepare my statement, and when it is done, I'll 
 send a note to Mr. Hollybush. [Exeunt. Scene closes. 
 
 Scene XI. — Thompson & Weller's shop. The four ladies taking chocolate. 
 
 Miss D. Your fifteen minutes are nearly out, Mary. 
 
 M. [ know they are. What can it possibly mean ? 
 
 Minetta. h, don't be nervous. It seems very strange indeed, now. But 
 when the explanation comes, it will be some very simple matter. 
 
 C. I cannot imagine anything to excuse them all for failing. One might 
 come at least, to tell us what is the matter. 
 
 Miss D Do you think they are taking their revenge, because they were 
 kept waiting here yesterday ? 
 
 Minetta. What an idea ! Why we would tear their eyes out. 
 
 M. They would deserve it, indeed. 
 
 (Enter Boy with Hartington's note ; looks about him, and kicks against the 
 counter to summon the Shopwoman. Enter Shopwoman.) 
 
 Shopwoman. What do you want ? 
 
 Boy. Is Mr. Glumly here ? 
 
 Shopwoman. No — don't you see he is'nt ? 
 
 Boy. His man said he would be here, he guessed. 
 
 C. What man said that, my boy ? 
 
 Boy. The waiter down here where he boards. He said as how he heard 
 him tell Mr. Hollybush that it was time they should come down to Thompson 
 & Weller's. 
 
 C. Is that nore for him ? 
 
 Boy Yes, ma-am. 
 
 C. (looking at it.) From Mr. Hartington ? 
 
 Boy. Yes, ma-am 
 
 C. Give it to me. I will see that he gets it. Here is a shilling. 
 
 Boy. Thankee ma-am. [Exit. Exit. Shopwoman. 
 
 C. (read." the note ) " Sir — A very serious disaster to a friend of ours re- 
 quires the instant attendance of Mr. Hay and myself down town. The 
 matter is so important that the ladies will fully excuse us, 1 am certain, when 
 we can see them and explain Will you hasten down to them and show them 
 this. Your's, &c. J. Hartington" 
 
 What can this mean ? 
 
 M. I don't know, but I am glad the disaster is not their own. 
 
 Minetta. But where are Mr Hollybush and Mr. Glumly ? 
 
 Miss D. (hooking out.) They are now coming down the street. 
 
 C. Let us go home, we have nothing further to do here. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 49 
 
 Miss D. This shop isn't lucky for elopements. There is a spell upon it. 
 Minetta. Eloping seems to me very like the night-mare ; we go on, but we 
 make no progress. [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene XII. — Mrs. Campion's. (Enter Minetta and Miss Dubarre.) 
 
 Minetta. They certainly saw us. Did they not ? 
 
 Miss D. Oh, certainly. They will be hero in five minutes. 
 
 Minetta. Poor Charlotte! Did you see how distressed she looked ? 
 
 Miss D. Yes ; and Mary too. Mary did not speak, but she was very much 
 alarmed. What disaster can this be ? 
 
 Minetta. Oh, I don't know. It is only a misfortune to a friend, you know ; 
 so Mr Harrington's note said. That is not as if one met with a misfortune 
 one's self, you know. 
 
 Miss D. Some people profess to think it is. 
 
 Minetta. Some people profess too much. My dear Nancy, I love you very 
 well ; and if you should burn your fingers in the candle, 1 should be very sorry. 
 But I should not squeal — I could not feel it as you would. 
 
 Miss D. No ; that is certain. But. Minetta, I hupe you dou't think that I 
 am just now in a fair way to burn my fingers. 
 
 Minetta. No, dear. But who can tell? We know just as much of the real 
 characters of these men now 
 
 Miss D. As they do about ours. Ts it not so ? 
 
 Minetta. Pretty nearly But here come our two runagates. 
 
 (Enter Jacob Hollybush and Glumly.) 
 
 Minetta. Oh, oh, oh, oh, Mr. Holiybush ! 
 
 Miss D. Ah, ah, ah, ah, Mr. Glumly! 
 
 Minetta. So, ladies that are ready to elope are not worth coming after ? 
 
 Miss D. No ; we put them on the shelf in some shop, and go walking 
 Broadway, to make more conquests. 
 
 G. and J. TI. But, ladies — ladies. 
 
 Minetta. Rather late in life for you two to be dancing the cheat. 
 
 Miss D. Rather early to be trying these caprices upon us ; and playing at 
 fast and loose. Fast will come loose, but loose will not always come lii-t again. 
 
 J. H. But, dear ladies, hear us. 
 
 Minetta. That's as much as to say, you don't like to hear us. Well, if 
 you'd rather hear yourselves, proceed. Now for your defence. 
 
 Glumly. Why, Miss Minetta, we were ready at twelve o'clock, and anx- 
 iously waiting. 
 
 Minetta. Waiting for the clock to strike one. 
 
 Glumly. Indeed, lady, we were waiting for Hay and Hartington ; and Miss 
 Mary had given us all notice that you would, none of you, wait for us below there 
 over a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Minetta. She showed good sense and forethought that time. 
 
 Glumly. Well, we waited five minutes, and these gentlemen did not appear. 
 
 Miss D. And so you disappeared in your turn. 
 
 G. And so we went up to Hay's room to look for them, leaving word that 
 we were gone to Thompson & Weller's. 
 
 Miss D. Where you were not gone. 
 
 G. On the contrary — where we did go, as soon as we had called at Hay's 
 rooms. He and Hartington had just gone out. We thought we had missed 
 them in the street, and should find you all together. 
 
 Miss D. Well, that's a plausible story, and you shall be received into con- 
 ditional forgiveness — temporary lorgiveness that is — until we find out that it's 
 all fudge. Then you don't know what has happened since ? 
 
 «/. H. Not, at all. 
 
 G. Our wits are quite adrift. We're as puzzled as men can be. 
 
 4 
 
50 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 Miss D Harfington wrote you a note, which we received and opened. A 
 great disaster has befallen a friend of his and Hay, requiring their immediate 
 attention. And so they couldn't come. 
 
 Miietta. And so the elopement is put off. 
 
 J. H. What disaster can that be?' No hint as to its nature — pecuniary or 
 personal — a grief or a loss ? 
 
 Mind la. None. 
 
 G. But, dear ladies, are we to dance attendance forever on Mr. Hay's des- 
 tinies and Mr. Hartington's, and all the destinies of their friends beside? If 
 they have a large circle they may furnish a fresh disaster every day; and our 
 eloping party will become as proverbial as Monsieur Tonson. 
 
 Minetta. Mr. Glumly, you speak like a real man; as if the men were the 
 important part of this performance. Our destinies are united to those of Char- 
 lotte and Mary, and you will do well to hook yours on too, and smile, and say 
 nothing. 
 
 G. I am rebuked.— When does the curtain rise again ? 
 
 Minetta. Not till this mystery is cleared up — Mr. Hollybush, do you know, 
 or suspect, or conjecture anything about it ? 
 
 J. H. No, Minetta, I do not. 
 
 Minetta. Well, now, won't you go at once and ascertain ? Find out all you 
 can, and come back and tell us; and then if you can help them, go and do it. 
 
 ./. H. You shall be obeyed. (Exit.) [Scene ctoses. 
 
 Scene XIII. — Old Holltbush's house. Charlotte and Mart. 
 
 C. What did you do with Hay's letter, Mary? 
 
 M. Left it up stairs. 
 
 C. Did you understand all that about bills of exchange, and notes of hand 
 and things. 
 
 M. No, not very well. I had an idea what the result of it all was. 
 
 C What is a bill of exchange ? 
 
 M. It's some kind of an obligation to pay money. I believe it is also called 
 a bill of lading. 
 
 C. And what is protesting? 
 
 M. It seems to be a sort of substitute they have sometimes, for paying the 
 money. 
 
 C. The great trouble now seems to be about Duperu. 
 
 M. Yes; Hay says his notes are due to-morrow, and if they are protested 
 he says it will almost ruin him. 
 
 C. That must be because the creditor gets a great deal more, somehow, 
 when notes are protested. 
 
 M. I suppose so- Here's papa. 
 
 (Enter Old Hollybush ) 
 
 O. H. Well, my daughters, have yon been out to-day. 
 
 M. Yes, papa, we have been in Broadway a little while 
 
 (J. H. I'm glad of it. I've been very busy to-day ; but I have thought a 
 great deal about you — more than about my business. 
 
 M. Why so, papa? 
 
 O. H. I'm getting very old, my daughters. I feel fatigue much more than 
 1 used to do; and when 1 grow tired my thoughts turn to my home and my re- 
 pose. Yes ; and sometimes to my long home and my long repose. 
 
 C. arid M. Oh, father! father'! 
 
 O. ff. Yes, I'm an old man. and I cannot be with you long. It's not my 
 place now to be stern and give commands. I cannot control your actions, and 
 if I drive you from my side, \vha f , will become of me ? 
 
 M. Oh, father! we will never leave you. Nothing shall drive us from you. 
 
 O. H. I was unkind last night — I was foolish and violent; but I have 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 51 
 
 thought about it since. Do what you please, my daughters; receive what com- 
 pany you prefer ; but do not actually many without your father's knowledge — 
 if possible not without his consent. 
 
 C. Oh, Mary! what a blessing that we are here to-night. (They take his 
 hands and kneel b>/ his vide weeping.) 
 
 O. H. (quietly) Come girls, enough of this. We are friends now, and you 
 must show me cheerful faces. ( They rise and compose themselves.) 
 
 (Enter John.) 
 
 John. A note from Mr. Dupera, sir. The boy is waiting for an answer. 
 
 O. H. (after reading.) Call the boy in. (Boy comes in.) Tell Mr. Du- 
 peru I'm very sorry. To-morrow I'm engaged early. He says he shall not be 
 ready for me this evening. Tell him I'm very sorry I can't get to his office be- 
 fore twelve, but at that hour I will be there. 
 
 Boy. Yes, sir. (Exit.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene XIV. — Mrs. Campion's. Mr Campion in his dressing gown and 
 slippers, a glass of toddy before him, a handkerchief round his head. (Enter 
 Mrs. C.) 
 
 Mrs. C. Aha, Mr. Campion ! what have you got there? 
 
 C Dochan dorrish ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Doch and what ? 
 
 C. Dochan dorrish, the stirup cup, my dear, or cup of departure. I'm off for 
 bed shortly. 
 
 Mrs. C. (sitting doivn.) In English, you would call it a night-cap. 
 
 C. Yes, perhaps so. 
 
 Mrs. C I wish you wouldn't be so learned. And I wish you wouldn't stir 
 your toddy that way, it makes me nervous. 
 
 C. Makes you nervous ! The devil ! Shall I stir it this way, then ? 
 
 Mrs. C. No. If you must stir it, stir it round and round. 
 
 C. Well, really, Mrs. Campion you are getting such a quantity of damned 
 whims, that it is difficult to live with you. Where's Minetta? 
 
 Mrs. C. Up in her room. I've just coir:e from there 
 
 C. Where you have had a long woman's talk, about ribbons, and dress- 
 makers, and the opera, and what not? 
 
 Mrs. C. No, indeed. We havo been talking about her adventure in the 
 morning. 
 
 C. That was more sensible. Well, I would'nt let her run such rigs with 
 many people, but she's safe with Jacob Hollybush. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, I think she is, perfectly. 
 
 C. Jacob is come to a good, sound, safe, mature age. 
 
 Mrs. C. Age. indeed ! Why Mr. Campion, he is not older than I am. 
 
 C. No need of that, my dear. But Jacob is forty, and you, as you say — 
 
 Mrs. C. I said nothing about it. 
 
 C- Well, as you hinted then, you are now forty-five. 
 
 Mrs. C. How canyon assert such a thing ? Suppose it were true, does it 
 do you any good to put me in mind of it ? And how should you know it it was 
 true or not? 
 
 C. Oh. my dear, 1 have kept tally, like those captives that cut notches in 
 sticks to signify the years of their captivity. 
 
 Mrs. C. Poor captive, how you must have suffered ! And have you really 
 notched a stick for my age? 
 
 C. No. my dear— all this is figurative. You are the stick, and time has cut 
 the notches. I see them, but you can't without a looking-glass 
 
 Mrs. C. Mr. Campion, what satisfaction is it to you to reproach me in this 
 way about my age ! 
 
52 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C. Mrs. Campion, what sense or reason is there in your humbugging with 
 me about your age ? You ought to have more sense. 
 
 Mrs. C. It is nobody's business but my own, supposing I do feel sensitive 
 about it ; and you need not insult me. 
 
 C. It is not your business, at all. It is my business, and if I like you as well 
 as you are. you have no right to wish yourself younger. 
 
 Mrs. C. If yon like me as well ? But I know you don't. 
 
 C My dear Madeline, it is not your age I would change if I had the power; 
 but a streak or two of your temper. Thank Heaven for that, because it is pos- 
 sible, and the other isn't. Now I will make you a night-cap. and when you've 
 taken it, if you're not in a better humor — why, the best thing that I can do, will 
 be to stay here and take night-caps till morning. 
 
 [Scene closes. 
 
 ACT V . 
 
 Scene I. — Duperu's Counting room. Duperu, Old Hollybush. 
 
 D. Have you examined that paper, Mr. Hollybush? 
 
 O. H. Yes, sir. 
 
 D. That, sir, is a complete statement of all my own affairs in all their rami- 
 fications. 
 
 O. H. I see it is. 
 
 D You see, sir, that by that statement, I am completely independent — able 
 to pay everybody and have a round surplus. 
 
 O. H Yes, sir. 
 
 D Very well, sir. Now be pleased to look at this paper, for this contains 
 my difficulty. 
 
 O H. This is the India voyage business". 
 
 D. Yes, sir. This is a good affair enough, but it is not my own. I have 
 had the agency ; but only on commission. I have no interest in the profits or 
 losses. 
 
 O. H But you bought the cargo in your own name, and for your own 
 paper. 
 
 D. That is just the trouble. Thirty thousand dollars of that paper falls due 
 today, and my principals cannot put me in funds. 
 
 O. H. It is a large amount. 
 
 D. I know it. They received a remittance from Calcutta, in bills on Lon- 
 don. These bills they sold, and paid the first batch of notes with the pro- 
 ceeds ; then they made that loan from you to pay those that are due to-day. 
 
 O. H. Well, and why don't they pay them ? 
 
 D. Because their bills came back yesterday, and they had to take them up 
 to save damages. That took all the money. 
 
 O. H. It's a bad case. On whom were the bills ? 
 
 D. Chapmans. 
 
 O. H. Oh, I know. Calcutta bills, drawn by his own house there, most 
 likely. 
 
 D. Exactly. No drawer to come back upon. 
 
 O. H. Well, sir, and what do you propose ? 
 
 1). Why. Mr. Hollybush, it's very hard for me to propose anything. You 
 cannot but see that my object in laying all this before you is to get assistance. 
 If you will not. pull me through, I must suspend payment till this ship arrives. 
 
 O. H- Two or three months yet? 
 
 I). Probably. 
 
 O. H. Have you anything more to pay in the meantime ? 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 53 
 
 D. Not a dollar. 
 
 O. H. How much can you raise towards the thirty thousand ? 
 
 D. About ten thousand ; but it will cut into my own business badly. 
 
 O. H. And if [ make you a loan, what security .' 
 
 D. Why, 'he ship, you know, and all that, is pledged to you already. I 
 Blight give you a mortgage on a vessel or two. I could make out. I think, to se- 
 cure you. 
 
 O. II. But your principals — why do they keep so much in the back- 
 ground ? — Is their personal security not available ? 
 
 D. Oh, you know who they are. You showed that you knew that, when 
 you gave us the other loan. 
 
 O. H. I assure you, Mr. Duperu, T know nothing about it. 
 
 D Nevertheless, sir, you mentioned them to Vansittart at the time. 
 
 O. H. There is some mistake in that matter. I had not the slightest idea 
 who they were. What did 1 say to Vansittart ? 
 
 D. Oh, Mr. Hollybush, we are past keeping secrets with you now. My 
 principals are Rupert Hay and John Hartington. You asked Vansittart if 
 they were not borrowers of money — and we supposed that you understood that 
 they borrowed that. 
 
 O. H. Hay and Hartington ! is that thing possible ? Did they plan this 
 voyage ? 
 
 D. Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. And execute, it thus far — assort the cargo, give the orders about the 
 ports to be visited, and all that? 
 
 D. Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. You surprise me very much. Are those your bank notices ? 
 
 D- Yes, sir. 
 
 O. H. Let me see them. (Looking over the amounts and making memoran- 
 dum ) A pretty heavy amount, Mr. Duperu. I cannot determine in a mo- 
 ment what I will do. You have been rather imprudent to commit yourself so 
 largely, looking to the returns of a voyage to meet your payments, your princi- 
 pals not being capitalists to help you out at a pinch. 
 
 D. I feel that now, sir, plainly enough. 
 
 O. H. I cannot promise you an answer till the last moment of bank hours. 
 If you intend applying anywhere else — 
 
 D. I do not, sir. 
 
 O. II. Very well, about three o'clock you shall hear from me. (Exit.) 
 (Enter Hay and Hartington.) 
 
 D. About three o'clock — and in the meantime I am to be on this rack of 
 uncertainty. He will do nothing — did you hear what he said ? 
 
 Hay Yes. It is very surprising. What the devil did he mean then by his 
 questions to Vansittart about our borrowing money ? 
 
 hVn. He lias forgot himself, what he meant. He certainly did suspect us 
 at the time. 
 
 D. But he forbade you his house, as it seemed, in consequence. 
 
 H'n. I don't know. That interdict, is now taken off*. Charlotte has sent 
 to have us come over, and says, expressly, it is by her father's permission. 
 
 D. Well, go over then, and leave me in my tenterhooks. 
 
 Hay. We may as well. We can do nothing here. 
 
 D. No, nor anybody else, I fear. It is a bitter pill — but do not you stay 
 now 7 : only come back about three. 
 
 Hay and H'n. We will. (Exeunt.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene II. — Vansittart's Boom. Vansittart, Jacoe Hollybush. 
 
 V. Will your brother be here to-day, Mr. Hollybush ? 
 J. H. I don't know — perhaps so. 
 
54 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 V. I settled that Brooklyn business for him yesterday, and got the money. 
 I wish you'd tell him if you see him. 
 
 ./. H. I will. He's vastly amiable to-day, and I suppose this will make him 
 more so. 
 
 V. I don't think he need concern himself about four hundred dollars. 
 
 J. H. He need not, perhaps, but he does. 
 
 {Enter Glumly.) 
 
 G. Good morning, gentlemen. 
 
 J. H. and V. Good morning. 
 
 G. Shall we have an elopement to-day, as usual, Mr. Hollybush ? 
 
 J. H. No. I believe that game is all up. 
 
 G. How so ? 
 
 /. H The ringleaders have deserted us. 
 
 G. Which are they ? 
 
 J. Ii. Charlotte and Mary. Thpy have made friends with their father. 
 
 G. Do they sacrifice their accomplices ? 
 
 ./. II Oh no ! my brother yields on the main point. Harrington and Hay 
 are to visit at the house as before. 
 
 G. Is this the effect of our vigorous demonstration yesterday? 
 
 /. TI Oh no ! he does not know that yet ; it would have worked the other 
 way. He came round of his own accord. Nobody said a word to him. 
 
 (Enter Servant ) 
 
 Serv. A boy below, sir, wishes to speak to Mr. Glumly. 
 V. Send him up. [Exit servant. 
 
 (Enter Boy ) 
 
 Boy. Here's a note from Mr. Barbow. sir. Wants an answer. 
 
 G. (after reading with some appearance of surprise.) Here — wait — find a 
 chair there in the entry, will you ? (Exit Boy.) Vansittart, can I write a line. 
 
 V. Certainly. (Arranges a place for him.) (To Hollybush.) It was a 
 strange pique he took against them. That India voyage was the cause of it 
 all, but I never could understand how. 
 
 ./. H. No; it was not the India voyage. Do you mean Duperu's voyage ? 
 
 V. Yes. 
 
 J. II. Why, what had Hay and Hartington to do with that ? 
 
 V. Your brother suspected that they were Duperu's principals. He tried 
 to get it out of me, but I would say nothing. 
 
 ./. II. I didn't know he had any such idea. 
 
 G. Now, gentlemen, just look here a moment. Boy (calling) come in here. 
 ( Enter Boy.) Tell Mr. Barbow that you heard me read his letter and my answer 
 to these gentlemen. 
 
 Boy. Yes, sir. 
 
 G. Do you know Barbow. Vansittart? 
 
 V. Yes ; he is an editor, is he not ? 
 
 G. In a small way, he has been ; but latterly his chief industry has been 
 to write for my magazine. I gave him double charity. First, I published his 
 articles, and then I paid him for them. 
 
 V. Mercy is twice blessed. 
 
 G. Yes; but these blessings are both for him that takes. Well, now, this 
 fellow wants the magazine ; and I promised it to him after a sort. I meant to 
 give it to him after my marriage, and I told him so. 
 
 J. H. Can he manage it? 
 
 G. I don't know. But he came to my room, and contrived to steal a paper 
 of mine, of which he thinks he can make an instrument to bully me, and now 
 he demands a formal obligation for the transfer of the magazine. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 55 
 
 /. H. Or else he will show you up ? 
 
 G. Yes. He started the matter yesterday, and I gave him a set-down 
 which I supposed was effectual, and I meant to forgive him. But now. sec 
 what he writes to me. (Reads.) 
 
 " Sir : You gave me some abusive language yesterday, which you may find 
 occasion to repent. It lias produced in my mind the opposite effect from what 
 you wished. I am satisfied, on reviewing your whole conduct, thai you do not 
 mean to give me the magazine, and that you think I will keep quiet till you are 
 married, and then you may defy me. I therefore demand a formal writing, 
 binding you to assign me the magazine; otherwise I will consider that matter 
 as ended, and do what lean to be revenged. Your promise by itself is not 
 worth a straw ; which remark I make to you, upon due deliberation, and from 
 a thorough knowledge of your character. 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " T. G. Barbow." 
 
 J. H. A very pleasant epistolafory style. 
 
 V. Clear, pointed, and business-like. 
 
 G. I'm glad you like it. Now here's my answer. 
 
 " Sir : I have received your letter. As for my abusing you yesterday, it is a 
 small circumstance, which at this distance of time I cannot be expected to re- 
 member. Probably I told you you were a scoundrel, and a fool ; if not. the 
 a> omission was yftidental, and I take the opportunity to tell you so now : and I 
 do so upon due deliberation, and from a thorough knowledge of your character. 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " R. A. Glumly." 
 /. H. That's as good as the other. 
 
 G. (Sealing, and giving it to the hoy.) Yes, a fine style is catching. Will 
 you walk, Mr. Hollybush. 
 
 J. H. Yes. Good-day, Vansittart. (Exeunt G. and J. H.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene III. — Mrs. Dubarre's. Mrs. Dubarre and Miss Dubarre. 
 
 Mrs. D. Well, Nancy, ha* your inamorato been here to day ? 
 
 Miss D. Not yet. 
 
 Mrs. D. Are you very impatient ? 
 
 Miss D. Not at all. I am quite sure of him, he will be here at two o'clock. 
 
 Mrs. D. Oho ! we have arranged all that. He will be here in five minutes, 
 then; (Looking at he} watch,) do you intend to take a department in the 
 magazine. Nancy ? 
 
 Miss. D. Very likely. 
 
 Mrs. D. You ought to write the financial articles. Don't you think so? 
 
 Miss D. Maria, what do you mean ? 
 
 Mrs. D. No, upon the whole, I think Mr. Glumly has shown himself a 
 good financier. 
 
 Miss D. Maria! what good does it do you to throw out such insinuations 
 as that ? 
 
 Mrs. D. None at all. Nancy — don't be angry. But when a rich girl mar- 
 ries a poor man, she ought to test his sentiments a little, if possible. 
 
 Miss D. Have I not tested Robert's ? Have I not seen, for months and 
 months, that he was attached to me long before he ventured to speak .' 
 
 Mrs. D. Well, well, don't let us quarrel about it, for here he conies. 
 (Enter Glumly.) 
 
 We were just speaking of you Mr. Glumly. 
 
 G. I am glad of it. I am sure I am safe in your hands, and in your's, too, 
 dear lady, (taking Miss D.'s hand.) 
 
56 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 (Enter a Servant.) 
 
 Serv. Note for Miss Dubarre. (Exit.) 
 
 Miss D. It seems quite an epistle. (Opens and looks itover with signs of 
 surprise.) Look here. 
 
 Mrs. D. What is here? (taking the letter.) A declaration of love. Shall 
 I read it ? 
 
 Miss D. Yes — No — But it's the strangest thing. You read it Mr. Glumly. 
 (Gires it to him.) 
 
 G. Shall I read it aloud ? 
 
 Miss D. Yes, if you please. 
 
 G. I will, and then I will give j'ou the explanation of this absurd manoeuvre. 
 (Reads.) 
 
 " Dear Lady : It is not without a consciousness of extreme presumption that 
 I venture to offer to a lady placed as you are, the homage of another adorer. 
 1 have hoped, indeed, and feared by turns, that through the cold forms of society, 
 your quick eye may have divined the deep feelings those forms restrained, — 
 but I cannot leave this any longer in doubt. I am urged by an impulse ton strong 
 for forms to send you this brief declaration, that I may know positively, that you 
 know that my life is in your hands, and may find in your smiles or frowns when 
 we next meet, the unequivocal oracleof my destiny. Your's, with deep devotion, 
 
 " F. G. Barbow." 
 
 Miss D. Who is F. G. Barbow ? 
 
 G. He is a sort of editor, and lives by his wits, such as tbey'are. 
 
 Mrs D. Is it that seedy looking literary man one always sees over the stove 
 at the city library ? 
 
 G. The very same. 
 
 Miss D. Oh, but Maria, you don't know the strangest part of this. 
 
 Mrs. D. It is all strange enough. What don't 1 know ? 
 
 Miss D. Why, this declaration is copied word for word from the one Mr. 
 Glumlv sent me. 
 
 Mrs. D. That is strange : how did he get it to copy.? 
 
 G. He stole it from my room — the rough draft I first made of it, and the use 
 he meant to make of it, was to force me to give him up my magazine. 
 
 Mrs. D. How so? 
 
 G. Why, he asked me for the magazine, and I refused to promise, when he 
 threatened to come here with some humbug story, about my sending this same 
 letter to a dozen different ladies, and to some of them within a week, aud he 
 would produce the copy for his proof. So 1 understood his project. 
 
 Mrs. D. But that is not what he seems to be at now. 
 
 G. No, I don't perfectly comprehend this movement Probably he means 
 to excite Miss Dubarre's curiosity, and so obtain an interview, aud tell his story. 
 Will you hear it ? 
 
 Miss D. No. 
 
 G. Think well of it. If you will hear him, I will send him here; but if you 
 are quite sure you don't wish to hear what he may have to say, I'll give him an 
 answer. 
 
 Miss D. Do so. I will have nothing to do with it. 
 
 G 1 will — and 1 will give an answer that will very much surprise you. 
 ( Writes at table.) 
 
 Mrs. D. It's a very pretty letter. But what does this mean : " placed as 
 you are." It does not allude to that affair ? 
 
 Miss D. Oh, Maria ! It mearly means the difference of our fortunes. 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, that is it! 
 
 G. (Rising reads.) •' Sir, you have shot your bolt, and now I hope you feel 
 better? You will perceive how little anything that you do can influence my 
 conduct, when I inform you that f do yet intend to assign you the magazine, 
 which I admit that I have promised to you. If you can make sixpence out of 
 it, it is more than ever I could. Your obt. serv't., R. A. Gluinilt." 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, Mr. Glumly ! But I'm sorry you put in that last phrase. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 57 
 
 G. Oh, thnt's for spite. He ran make a living of it. 
 
 Miss D. But the letter sounded so magnanimous without that. 
 
 G. That's true; but I must spare that. It is a poke under the fifth rib. 
 (Seals and addresses the letter.) Will you let your servant carry it? 
 
 Mrs. D. Certainly. (Rings and sends it off'.) 
 
 G. Well, I came here totell you some news, but this fellow has put 
 it all out of my head. 
 
 Miss D. What was it ? 
 
 G. It concerns us two. We are to have no more elopements. 
 
 Miss D. No more. 
 
 G No. Hay and Hartington have made their peace with old Hollybush, 
 and Mr. Vansittart is all smiles and congratulations. 
 
 Miss D. That is news, indeed. Vansittart thinks there will be weddings, 
 and dinners, and suppers. 
 
 G. Of which he will get his share ? 
 
 Miss D. Not of the weddings. His hopes of that sort are at an end 
 at last. 
 
 G. Oh, no! he will finish by hooking on to the family yet. 
 
 Miss D. They are all married now, and engaged. 
 
 G. Yes, but he'll find out some cousin or connection. His fate is to play 
 fungus to the Hollybush tribe to the end. 
 
 Mrs. D. Is a husband a fungus ? 
 
 G. That's unlucky. I did not mean that, you may be sure. But if a 
 man is a fungus, he won't change his nature when he. becomes a husband. 
 
 (Enter J. Hollybush and Minetta.) 
 
 Mrs.D. Oh Minetta! How do you do, Mr. Hollybush ? Oh Minetta, you are 
 a little too late ; you have just missed a scene. 
 
 Minetta. What scene ? 
 
 Miss D. Oh, never mind. I'll tell you another time. 
 
 G. (to J. II.) My friend Barbow. 
 
 J. H- What ! he has not been here, has he ? 
 
 G. No, not quite that; but he has sent a letter. 
 
 J. H. With a view to make trouble here 1 
 
 G Yes. 
 
 J. H. Well he has said what he had to say, has he ? 
 
 G. I have explained what he left unsaid. 
 
 J. H. So his stine; is drawn, and no harm done. 
 
 G. Yes. 
 
 J. H. Well, I have heard of black-mail, but I never had a clear case ot an 
 attempt of the kind within my own knowledge before. 
 
 Mrs. D. There is a good deal of black-mail paid in this city, they say. 
 
 G. I suppose there is ; and I have been in the way of knowing more about 
 it than any of you. 1 have been told repeated instances of people demanding 
 money, or threatening to disclose something they knew, or pretended to know, 
 but I never he;ird before of the threat being executed. Not a single instance. 
 
 J. H. Not when they were refused ? 
 
 G. No. These fellows cannot do much harm, and they know it. When they 
 find a weak subject, they bleed him freely ; but if a man resists, they flee. 
 
 Mrs. D. Where are your nieces, Mr. Hollybush ? 
 
 J. H. At home, I believe, Madam. 
 
 (Enter Charlotte and Mary.) 
 
 Why, here they come. 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh ! dear girls, how do you do ? I'm very glad to see you, indeed. 
 
 C. We've just run over for a moment, to deliver you a message from papa. 
 
 Mrs. D. What is it? 
 
 C. He wants you and Nancy to come over to dine with us to-day. 
 
58 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 M. There is a note gone to your rooms, Mr. Glumly, also, (G. bozos.) and 
 one to your house, Minetta, for your father and mother, and yourself. Uncle 
 Jacob, you will come, of course ? 
 
 J. H. Certainly. 
 
 Mrs. D. Any more company ? 
 
 C. Yes, I suppose there will be one or two more. 
 
 Mrs. D. So do I ; but I cannot imagine who, for the life of me. 
 
 C. Well, come at five o'clock, and you will see. Good by. [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene IV. — Duperu's counting house. Duperu alone. (Enter Hat and 
 
 Hartington.) 
 
 Hay. Well Mr. Duperu, what news? 
 
 D. None at all. 
 
 H'n. It is all over, then. It is now three o'clock. 
 
 D. More than a quarter past. 
 
 Hay. Your notes lie over, then. 
 
 D. Yes. 
 
 H'n. And will be protested ? Could you not have got an extension ? 
 
 D. Perhaps I might, if I had had time. But this thing was so sudden. 
 
 H'n. It is a great disaster, and one for which we can never indemnity you. 
 Even if we could make you good for it pecuniarily, yet the mortification can- 
 not be compensated. 
 
 Hay. What do you expect from our voyage, Mr. Duperu. 
 
 D. Large profits for you. 
 
 Hay. After losing those bills ? 
 
 D. Yes, as much as you will lose. But Chapman's house is expected to 
 pay a good deal, and may perhaps pay the whole. 
 
 Hay. Well, you must take our profits We cannot get you into such a 
 mess as this and let you bear the loss and trouble, and hand over the advan- 
 tage to us. 
 
 D. I shall get my commissions, and shall take nothing more. When I 
 undertook this business, I took the risks connected with it, and this was one of 
 them. But I did not think there was any danger. (Enter a clerk with a lettei.) 
 What is this ? 
 
 Clk. Don't know. sir. 
 
 D. It can't interest me. ( Takes it and throws it on the tabic.) 
 
 flay. Is it a protest ? 
 
 D. No — that would be served on me by a notary ; and besides, it cannot 
 come till to-morrow. 
 
 Hay. Well look at it at least ? 
 
 D. (Opens it.) Good Lord ! here are my notes. 
 
 H'n. Your notes ! 
 
 D. Yes, everyone duly paid and stamped. Do you know nothing of this? 
 
 H'n. No, indeed. 
 
 D. Then it is Mr. Hollybush; he's a noble old man, with all his eccentri- 
 cities. I thought he was hard and unfeeling to-day — it seemed to me he might 
 so easily do this thing, which to me was so important, and he would not say a 
 word. But when he gets away, he does it. 
 
 Hay. There are few enough such men as that. 
 
 D. There are plenty that ivould have talked, and would not have done any- 
 thing. Heavens, what a weight is off" my mind ! 
 
 H'n. And oft" mine too ; and yet another weight is laid on, Hay. Does not 
 your conscience touch you now ? There was a great wrong we should have 
 done this man, you and I, and Charlotte, and Mary. Are you not glad we failed ? 
 
 Hay. Indeed I am. 
 
 H'n. We might better have been patient a little while. He thought, no 
 doubt, he was right in what he did. I wish we had not done what we did. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 59 
 
 Hay. Well, so do I. But my life cannot be passed in repenting; I'm sorry, 
 but there's an end. 
 
 (Enter Clerk.) 
 
 Clk. A note, sir. 
 
 D (Taking it and reading.) It is from Mr. Hollybush. He invites me 
 to dino with him at five o'clock. 
 
 Clk. The servant asked if these gentlemen were here. He has notes 
 for them. 
 
 D. Bring them in. 
 
 Clk. Yes, sir. (Exit, andreiurns with the notes, and exit again.) 
 
 H'n. Why this is odd. My invitation is for half-past four. 
 
 Hay. So is mine. 
 
 D. [looking at his note again.) Mine says five plain enough. 
 
 Hay. He means to give ua soup and fish, and let you begin at the roast beef. 
 
 D. Pin willing; I've gone through too much to-day to care what I have for 
 dinner. I won't refuse his invitation, though. 
 
 Hay. No ; he honored your notes, you must honor his. 
 
 D. ' He means to have a family talk with you before the company arrives 
 
 Hay. Well, let us hope so. 1 am happy enough to-day to believe 
 anything. 
 
 H'n. Let us go and dress. (Exeunt.) [Scene closes. 
 
 Scene V. — Old Holltbush's house. Mrs. Campion, Minetta, Mrs. 
 and Miss Dubarre, Charlotte, and Mary. 
 
 Minetta. Now, Charlotte, while the gentlemen take their wine, tell us 
 about the scene, before dinner ? 
 
 C Oh, Minetta, there was not any scene. 
 
 Minetta. But there was an explanation, an eclaircissement ; tell us about it, 
 leaving out the secrets, if there were any. Tome, come, you are quite among 
 friends. 
 
 C. Why. papa, you know, received the young gentlemen very kindly, and 
 talked to them, as if nothing had happened extraordinary. 
 
 Miss D. Weather, and politics, and such things. 
 
 C. Yes, but they did not answer him much. They were thinking of some- 
 thing else 
 
 Minetta. Very likely. 
 
 C. At last, Harrington spoke out — he could not contain himself. It was just 
 as awkward as anything could be, you know. Papa was talking about some- 
 thing totally different, and Harrington was'nt listening to a word of it. He 
 actually interrupted him. 
 
 Minetta. What did he say ? 
 
 C. Oh! he thanked, him in such warm terms, for something he had done. 
 Paying some money, it was, for Mr. Dupern. 
 
 Minetta. And Mr. Hay? 
 
 C. Oh, the tears stood in his eyes, buthe said not a word. 
 
 M. Not then, but afterwards he did, 
 
 C. Yes, he told papa, that he and Hartington were the cause of Mr. Du- 
 peru's wanting the money ; that they had met a great loss in business. 
 
 Miss D 1 did not know they were in business. 
 
 C- No, nor any of us. But they were. They kept their own secret. Papa 
 says he likes them for that. 
 
 M. Yes; but that made all our trouble. 
 
 C. So it did. Papa found out they borrowed meney, and as they 
 were not in business that he knew of, he thought they were running in debt 
 for a living. 
 
 Minetta. I begin to understand. 
 
60 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 C. And so when he found they had made this India voyage, he changed his 
 o])ii ion of them entirely. 
 
 Miss D. But have they lost money by it ? 
 
 C. I don't know ; they lost by some bills they say ; but anyhow, papa says 
 he don't eare. He knows all about their voyage; and he says it was well 
 planned find well executed. 
 
 M He said men that could study out such a thing as that, and show so 
 much prudence, and at the same time, so much enterprise, would always be 
 able to take care of themselves, and of those that depended on them. 
 
 C. Yes, Mary, he did. He said those very words. 
 
 M. He said it was a man's duty to expose his mind for its own good, to the 
 collisions of real business, just as he ought to expose his face to the north wind 
 sometimes for his health sake. 
 
 C. Yes, and he compared a man living idle on his income to one that sat 
 stewing by a fire all winter, and became an invalid. Some people he said 
 stewed their souls. 
 
 Mrs. Campion. That is like him. He is very droll sometimes. 
 
 Minetta. But what did Hay and Hartingtou say all this time ? 
 
 C. Very little. They alluded to their loss. Papa said a fig for the loss. 
 They would win in the long run ; they had shown that they understood their 
 game. 
 
 Mrs. D. Here come the gentlemen. 
 
 {Enter Old Holybush, Jacob, Duperu, Glumly, Vansittart, Hay, and 
 
 Hartington. 
 
 Old H. Can you give us some tea and coffee, daughters ? 
 
 C. Yes, Papa, bye and bye. {Old H. sits downin an arm chair.) 
 G. This is the most remarkable dinner I was ever at. 
 
 Mrs. C. Why so ? 
 
 G. There has not been a word said about wine. 
 
 V. That's true, and it is remarkable. 
 
 G. I dined last week with a set of men. all gentlemen of fortune but one or 
 two, in one of the best houses in New- York, and they talked wine, wine, wine, 
 three mortal hours together. 
 
 ./. H. And yet that is less the case now thr.n it used to be. 
 
 G. I cannot imagine how it can have been worse. 
 
 J. H. It was worse. They sat longer, got drunk and talked louder, and 
 more foolishly. When the wine's in the wit's out, you know. 
 
 G. And in the matter of conversation, when the wit is in the wine is out. 
 
 D Some of our elder men do that from habit. But among ihe younger 
 ones T think only a few fools talk wine now. 
 
 J. H. After all, it's better than politics. 
 
 D. And better than trade. I can take you to a house where you will hear 
 nothing but cotton and freight, and the late of exchange. 
 
 G. And I can show you a place where all the talk is magazines and news- 
 papers, and police reports, and libel suits, and black-mail. 
 
 Miss D. Very interesting, indeed. 
 
 G. Yes, very — to the speakers. Every man likes to talk of what he thinks 
 he understands. 
 
 Miss D What do you like to talk about ? 
 
 G. I like to talk about you. 
 
 Miss D. Do you think you understand me ? 
 
 V. That's a poser. He dares not say yes, but Pll say it for him. 
 
 Miss D. He thinks he understands me ? 
 
 V. Yes, certainly. 
 
 Miss D. What abominable presumption. Pll cast him off directly. 
 
 Mrs. D. No, no ! He has had trouble enough to-day about Mr. Barbow : 
 let him rest now. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. Gl 
 
 J. H. The course of true love never did run smooth. But I suppose if 
 theii's has been troubled once, it will satisfy the law. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ah, Mr. Hollybush ! It ought to be troubled once then, ought it ? 
 Then we must contrive some trouble for you. 
 
 M. That's true ; uncle Jacob and Minetta have'nt had a bit. 
 
 H'n. I propose that we manufacture them some at once. 
 
 Hay. Let's organize a court and bring them before it. 
 
 V. I nominate Mr. Hartington forjudge. 
 
 J. H. I object. He has had a deal of trouble, and he will be for revenging 
 it all on me. He is not impartial. 
 
 V. Mr. Du peru, then. 
 
 J. H. Very well. Get a high chair. 
 
 Mrs. C Put a chair on this divan, here. 
 
 /. H So. Now Mr. Duperu. 
 
 C. He ought to have robes of office, and a wig. 
 
 Minetta. Send for my cloak — that will make him a robe. {C. rings and 
 sends for the cloak.) 
 
 Minetta. Now. Mr. Duperu {puts it on him.) Now we want a wig. 
 
 Mrs. D. Is there a mop in the house ? 
 
 G. It would not match his eyebrows. Couldn't you cut a wig out of the 
 entry mat ? 
 
 Minetta: I have a muff. 
 
 G. What colour? 
 
 Minetta. Mail in. 
 
 G. That comes near enough. The eyebrows are foxy. We will call him 
 a mufti. 
 
 Mrs. D. If it were not for spoiling that joke a tippet would make a better 
 turban 
 
 G. That will do. He shall be a Grand Lama. 
 
 Hay. Of Thibet? 
 
 G. Yes. The pun is mine. 
 
 Hay. You lost it by being slow of speech. Now judge. {The tippet is 
 brought and wound round Duperu's head.) 
 
 D. Where be the offenders ? 
 
 V. Here. {Jacob H. and Minetta are led, up?) 
 
 D. Where is the prosecuting witness ? 
 
 G. Here. {Standing up in a chair.) 
 
 D. What do you charge against these prisoners ? 
 
 G. Conspiracy. 
 
 D. Todowliat? 
 
 G. To steal from society two of its brightest ornaments, and stow them 
 away in a certain place called wedlock. 
 
 D. Where they would be lost to the said society ? 
 
 G. Entirely. 
 
 D. Witness, this is a grave charge {making note.) Put your hand on your 
 breast, or wherever you think your conscience is. {Glumly puts his hand in his 
 pocket) Now. say upon your conscience, are married people lost to society 
 in New- York ? 
 
 G. In a great measure. 
 
 D. {looking at his notes ) The witness prevaricates. Just now he said en- 
 tirely, now he says in a great measure. You may go down. sir. I shall deal 
 with this case myself. (To J. H.) Do you profess to be in love ? 
 
 J. H. I do, sir. 
 
 D. And you have had no trouble? 
 
 J. H. No, sir. 
 
 D. I acquit you of conspiracy. But you ought to have some trouble for 
 your own good. What are* your motives in addressing Miss Campion ? 
 
 J. H. My motives, sir. 
 
62 EARNING A LIVING. 
 
 D. Don't repeat my words. Aie they interested motives? 
 
 ./. //. No, sir. 
 
 D. you are discharged. Miss Campion, stand forth. You heard the ad- 
 mission of the other defendant? 
 
 Minctta What admission, sir ? 
 
 D. That he did not want your fortune. 
 
 Minetla. Yes, sir. 
 
 D. It is confiscated to the use of this court. 
 
 Minetla. That is very hard. 
 
 Campion. Am I allowed to say a word ? 
 
 D. Yes, the court allows you fifty. 
 
 Campion. Will the court assigu its reasons for this forfeiture? 
 
 D It is an experiment. 
 
 Campion. Upon what? 
 
 D Upon the constancy of her love. 
 
 Campion. If the court please, Minetta's fortune is in my pocket, and it is 
 all I possess. Now, if it should be taken from me, the court would thus try 
 another experiment much more severe than the one intended. 
 
 D. What one is that ? 
 
 Campion. Upon the constancy of Mrs. Campion. 
 
 Mrs- C Oh, you monster ! didn't we make a love match ? 
 
 Campion. But my dear, it was very long ago. 
 
 D The forfeiture is remitted. The court did not know there were doubts 
 in that quarter. Any more prisoners? 
 
 Mrs D. Yes. Bring up Mr. Glumly and Nancy. (To Vansittart.) 
 
 V. (hading; them up.) These two. 
 
 D. Wherewithal do they stand charged ? 
 
 V. Mesalliance. 
 
 I). What's that ? 
 
 V. Mis-matching. 
 
 D In what degree ? 
 
 V In the first degree. 
 
 D. State your charge. Diffuse it in some sentences, and illustrate it as far 
 as you can by learned quotations, and poetical similes. 
 
 V. If the court please, this man and this woman have suborned each other. 
 to commit matrimony, being utterly unsuitable to each other. It is an 
 union, may it plesise the court, from which all cvilmay be looked for, and 
 no happiness. It is as if a bird should lie brought down to the surface of 
 the water, and as fish should be brought up to it, and the two should be lashed 
 together. They would begin to pull different ways, your honor, as soon as 
 the knot was tied — 
 
 D. Can you quote any Latin? 
 
 V. No, sir 
 
 D You are no advocate. Go down, sir. Prisoner (to Glumly,) what is 
 your disposition ? 
 
 G. Bilious. 
 
 D. The lady is sanguine. Your complexion ? 
 
 Hay. Buff. 
 
 V. Orange tawny. 
 
 Miss D. Faded tiger. 
 
 D. On the whole, yellow. The lady is rosy. Are you poor ? 
 
 G. Yes, sir. 
 
 D. The lady is rich. I sentence you to be married immediately. If you 
 deserve punishment you will get it. If you deserve reward, you will get that. 
 Any more business before this court ? 
 
 G. Yes, here are two couples to be tried. 
 
 V. Y^es, let us have them all up now. (They lead up Hay and Mary, and 
 H'n. and C. 
 
EARNING A LIVING. 63 
 
 D. Where is the accuser ? 
 
 Minetta. Let me be it. 
 
 D. Accusing angel. No, that would not be fair upon the prisoners. Mr. 
 Glumly? 
 
 G. Sir. 
 
 D. Make out a case ngainst these prisoners. 
 
 G. A hard case, sir? 
 
 D. No, easy; but put them as much as you can upon the mercy of the 
 court. 
 
 G. I must brine; separate charges. I accuse these two {pointing to Hay 
 and EPn.,) of superstitious practices and judicial astrology. They have been 
 studying their fortunes in the stars. 
 
 D. What stars ? 
 
 G. The four stars. 
 
 D- Four apiece ? 
 
 G. No. two here and two there. {Pointing to C. and M.) 
 
 D. Specify the stars more particularly. 
 
 G. It is not necessary. They are here shining upon the court. 
 
 D. It will not. do. They must be described in the indictment. Describe 
 them at once and see that you do them justice. 
 
 G. Impossible. Language is not up to it. 
 
 D We sit here for justice. Do you refuse to do the justice required? 
 
 G. I refuse to attempt it. 
 
 D. I dismiss the charge, and turn you out of office. The two ladies will 
 come forward. Do \ou know these two astrologers ? 
 
 C. Yes, sir. 
 
 D. Are you aware of the state of their fortune ? 
 
 C. No. sir. 
 
 D That they consisted principally of pennies. 
 J. H Which were sent out to India to be turned. 
 
 D. And were there consumed in a suttee. 
 G. Vaporized by the heat of the climate. 
 V. Captured by a Mexican privateer. 
 
 D. That is extravagant. What is your name, young lady? 
 
 C. Charlotte Hollybush. 
 
 D Take John Harrington's hand. And yours ? 
 
 M. M;ny Hollybush. 
 
 D. Take Rupert Hay's hand. Considering what the court have heard of the 
 imprudence and destitution ot'these young men, I forbid these banns. 
 
 H'n. Is this the final decree? 
 
 D. No • there lies an appeal to the supreme court, which sits yonder. This 
 court is now adjourned and dissolved. {Comes doun and takes off the robes, <yc.) 
 
 H n Let us prosecute the appeal. (Thcypassto Old H's. chair.) 
 
 Old H This jest is turned into earnest. Have you come here 1113' daught- 
 ers for an old man's blessing in your choice. {Rising and laying his hands on 
 their heads.) It is yours and you have well deserved it. And as for you. young 
 gentlemen, (lo Hay and H'n.) remember what 1 have said to you — that you are 
 not to trust to floats in this life, for you may lose them. You must know how to 
 swim. In other words, you ran never be secure against want if you don't know 
 how to work for your living. [Curtain falls. 
 

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