Iftfiiltffil msgSi ibravtf of ®M§xt#$. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 1276 SfSfci ffiS mHS& &&fMW®F£Wi £re&~^£-4 / r %trt> e *' * A MILITARY DRAMA WITH ACCOMPANYING TABLEAUX. Bit Col. J±. RrCALHOTJir, Commander Dep't of Penn'a, G. A. R. PITTSBURGH: A. A. ArausoH t t Sons, Book and Job Printers, C7 and 69 Fifth Avenue. 1870. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1870, By Col. A. R. CALHOUN, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at WashingU n. NOTICE. This Play has been duly copyrighted; according to Act of Con- gress regulating the same. The production of this play by any person or persons, without the consent of the author and the man- agement, will be prosecuted to the full extent of law. A. R. CALHOUN, Author, WILL F. HOOD, Manager. CAST. Mr. Ludlow -Village Banker Louis Ludlow ...Afterward Color Bearer Jackson Ludlow « Color Guard Farmer Johnson. Jack Johnson Uterward Color Guard Sam Roberts " u a Jm Hansom .< u Squire Williams School Trustee Mr. Gray Citizen Post Master. Alfred Thornton Afterward Capt. C. S. A. Tom Flynn Irishman Bob Mason Tennesseean. afterward Union Scout Long George Tennesseean Peter Higgly Dutchman Mountaineer. Father Allen Refugee Refugee. Lieut, of Guerillas. Captain C. S. A. Tonby Servant to Captain Thornton Prisoner. Sergeant U. S. A. News Boy. LADY CHARACTERS. Lucy Johnson, Alice Gray, Jerusha Johnson, Susan Maria Hansom, Abbie Smith, Goddess of Liberty. Ladies for Tableaux. Officers and Soldiers, Mountaineers, Refu- gees, Prisoners, Citizens, &c. COSTUME. Mr. Ludlow. — 1st, Geutlernan dress suit. 2d, Change at will. Louis Ludlow.— 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Serg't U. S. Army, 3d, Capt. U. S. Army. Jackson Ludlow. — 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Private U. S. Army. Farmer John? on. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Change at will. Jack Johnson. — 1st, Citizen's dress. 2d, Private IT. S. Army. Sam Roberts. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Private U. S. Army. Squire Williams.— 1st, Plain Citizen's dress. 2d, Change at will. Mr. Gray. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Change at will. Alfred Thornton. — 1st, Stylish street dress. 2d, Capt, C. S. A. Tom Flynn.— 1st, Shabby suit. 2d, Ragged uniform C. S. A. 3d, Plain Citizen's suit. Bob Mason. — 1st, Mountain dress. 2d, Rngged. 3d, Private U. S A. 4th, Plain old suit. Long George. — Mountain hunters costume. Peter Higgly. — Plain Citizen's dress. Father Allen. — Ragged dress. Toney. — 1st, Plain grey dress. 2d, Xeat Citizen's suit. Lucy Johnson. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d, Plain black. 4th, Change at will. Jerusha Johnson. — 1st, Plain home suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d Change at will. Abbie Smith. — 1st, Xeat servant's suit. 2d, Street dress. 3d Change at will. Alice Gray. — 1st, Xeat home suit. 2d, Walking suit. Susan Marie Hansom. — 1st, Plain suit. 2d, Change at will. THE COLOR GUARD. _A.C T I. SCENE FIRST. Village street and post office. Squire Williams, Farmer Johnson and Citizens discovered waiting for the mail. Lively music. Squire W. — Now let me say farmer Johnson, I don't think we're agoing to have any war. (Business.) My opinion is this, I'm a school trustee, and ought to know. The politicians and provision men have formed a combination to run up prices, so they've started this story about war. Now 111 bet my best heifer I'm right. Farmer J. — Well I know you'r pretty long headed squire, but I differ for once with you. There's alius fire whar there's smoke. My Jack was over to Portsmouth yesterday, and he hurd it read out of a paper that the southern people had fired on the flag, some were's down south, and that Lincoln, him as you fellohs 'lected, had called for a whole lot of men. I did'nt vote for Lincoln, but by the fernal, I'll stand by the Union, and so will my boy. He aint old enough to vote, but he dared that sneak Alf Thornton to fight not long go, and I jest reckon he can lick any man of his years south of the Ohio. Them's my principles. Squire IF. — Now, Mr. Johnson, don't get excited. I stick to my opinion, and if there's to be war, 111 send in Jim Hansom, my son- in-law, if it makes Susan Maria a widder. But see the mail has just come in, let us see the Post master and borrow a paper. Post Master at window. — Thunder and greased lightning, friends. we are in for it. (Drops beich.) [Enter Tom Flynn, 1st L.] Tom F. — Musha, listen to that fellow, what does he mane we're in for? If its a fight Tom Flynn's yer boy. I'll fight any man in the place for one dollar and fifty cents Gorra, but I'd make it a thou- sand if I had the money. 1* [Enter Mr. Ludlow, 1st L.] Mr L. — Hello, Tom ! Drunk again, are you ? Tom F. — Dhrunk! Well, Mr. Ludlow, a man of your sinse to call me dhrunk; shure Tom's never drunk while he has a cint in his pocket, hut barrin' yersel. Mr. Ludlow, gorra but I can whip any man in the pi tee. (Yelh.) Mr. L. — [to Postmaster). You seem excited, Mr. McDonald. Any- thing for me to-day? Postmaster. — Ob, Lud ! Mr. Ludlow! We are ruined. The Union busted ; the flag insulted, an i ihe Devil to pay. Here, you have a big mail, one letter from the South. Reckon its from your brother, though I only read the post mark. Atlanta, Georgia. (Hands Mr. L. a bundle, Mr. L. glances hurriedly at a paper.) Squire W. — I don't get any papers, but if you'd loan me that what you'r reading, Mr. Ludlow, I'd be very much obliged. Mr. L. — Certainly, Squire. (Hands paper, open* letter and reads.) Squire W. — Friend Johnson, I back down, I cave, I obsquatulate, it ain't the politicians and provision men. By the livin' thunder, it's the politicians alone. War. War. War. The papers covered with it. I know'd it was cornin'. Didn't I alius say we'd have war. I'll bet my best heifer my Susan Maria is goin' to be a wid- der. Farmer J. — You'r a heavy old prophet, Squire. You just take the shine out of Joe Young an' all the Mormons. Let me see the paper. ( 7 nd comments). Lincoln has called for seventy-live thousand men. Lord, what a big pile. The States are to be divided. Not by the 'Tarnel, while me and my boy Jack's livin'. See here, Squire! Why our Guvener calls for men. That's my stile. That's the way to show Ohio may vote as she choses ; but by the 'Tarnel, Ohio stands by the Union. Tom F. — To the Devil wid the Guvener. If yees want any fightin' done, jist sind for Tom Flynn. By Gorra the Flynn's were always in for a fight. [Ehtkb Jack Johnson, 2nd B., and lays hand on* shoulder of Tom F.] Jack J. — Well. Tom, what are you blowing about; do you want to fight, eh? Tom F. — Fight ! Is it me want to fight Mr. Jack ? Arrah, show me the man that says bj, and 1 11 put a mug on him his own darling mother wouldn't know. Not me, Mr. Jack. Com?, take a dhrink : one dollar and fifty cents to do it on. Gorra but we'll have a dap of it. Come, Jack, agrab, wud me, yer bist friend, Tom Flynn. [Tries to pullJack J. away.') Jack J. — Not now, Tom. The old man looks as if he wanted me. ( Walks aside with Farmer J.) [Enter 2d R., Jackson Ludlow.] Jackson L. — Why father, are you sick? I never taw you looking so pale and excited. Come, let me take you home. Mr. L. — No, my son, I am not unwell. But the news that comes to us to-day is most alarming. The South is in for war. Troops are called out by the Union, and you, my boy, must go. and Louis too. Jackson L. — I am glad, father, you feel so, for I made up mind tc enter the army yesterday, when Jack Johnson and I were in Ports- mouth. But what is that letter you cling to so. Mr. Ij. — It is from your Uncle Martin and your brother Thomas, who still remains with him. Let me read it. {All gather round). [Enter 2d R. Alf. Thornton. Mr. L.— (Reads). Atlanta, Ga., April 18th, 1801. My Dear Brother. By the time this reaches you you will have heard that the youth has determined to sever a Union in which it can have no protection, and build up a Confederacy where there will be the most ample protection to all men in the stations which God called them to fill. We have struck the first blow at Charles- ton, and above the stars and stripes now floats the flag of the South. We hope to leave in peace, though amply prepared for war. We have plenty of friends North, and knowing your spirit of justice, I think I may count you among them. You will be pleased to learn that Thomas your son has enrolled his name in the Georgia State Guards. He sends love to all, and I with him hope to hear from you before the postal communications between the separate nations cease, which I presume will be a temporary necessity of Secession. Faithfully your brother, MARTIN LUDLOW. Squire W. — Jest as I said, them southern fellows is for war. But we'll give 'em Hail Columbia if Susan Maria lets her husband go. Him as is my son-in-law. Jackson L. — Father, this is terrible. Poor Tom, he has been led blindly into this. But with your consent, I will fight for tbe Union, . though every man with a drop of our blood in his veins opposes us. Mr. L. — God bless you, my boy, I feel as you do. Farmer J. — Here's my Jack. I'm an ole Democrat, one of them. 8 sis stands by the country, an' I'll send him in with your boys, Mr- Ludlow, and I'll give up my farm if Uncle Sam wants it, an' more, this ole arm can hold a rifle, and my eye aint too dim to guide a bullet yet if need be. Alfred T. — See here, friends, my opinion is, you are all too one- sided. Across the Ohio river are our friends and relatives. North of us is a land of mean skin-flints. I was born North but raised South. Jack J. — You mean you gambled South. Tom F. — Let the gintlemin talk, the Flynns were always for let- tin' a man talk. Alf. T. — I know my own business. This is a free country and I am not afraid to say if there is to be war, I will draw my sword for the South. Farmer J. — I knew you were a villian from the day you first came to see my daughter, and if the people felt as I do they would hang you on the spot. All shout — Hang him. Hang the Rebel. {Crowd seizes Alf. T. 3 while one brings rope). [Enter Louis Ludlow, 2d R.] Louis L.— Stand back here. This scene will do for the South, but not for the law-abiding North. Jack and you, brother, help me. {Releases Alf T.) A man is ever at liberty to express his sen- timents here without fear, no matter how much we despise him. Here, sir, I will escort you from the crowd, and it is with the hope that I may meet you some day better prepared to defend yourself. Scene Closes. SCENE SECOND. Parlor in Farmer Johnson's House. [Enter 1st R., Jerusha Johnson and Abbey Smith.] Jerusha J. — Abbey Smith, you talk like a woman of the world- I am astonished at a girl of your good sense ; but as Mr. Goodman,, our dear preacher, says, " vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Abbey S. — {twisting her apron). Well, it aint for a hired help like- me to be vanity, but I guess help kin feel sorry when their fellers leave, just like others. I know Sam Roberts has alius been soft on me, an' I've been soft on him ; you'd be soft on him, too, Miss Gu- rusha, if you was me. Sam is the best felloh 9 Jerusha J. — There, there, Abbey Smith, not another word, you make me blush about your fellows. The day will come, when, as Mr. Goodman says, you will see " all is vanity/' The world is fear- fully wicked. Oh ! how it has changed since I was young — I mean since I wa? a child. I am young still, Mr. Goodman says — Abbey S. — Yes mum. Jerusha J. — My nephew, John Johnson, has determined to fight. He is fooltshly in love with Alice Gray, but as Mr. Goodman says, ; ' 'tis vanity.'' Now, John is going to war. John has drawn his sword, why can't Sam Roberts draw his sword. Abbey S. — I don't know, mum, but Sam has no sword except a hammer. Sam's a blacksmith. Jerusha J. — Abbey, you provoke me. I speak in figures. Abbey S. — Yes mum, that's the way Sam and me dance cortillons. Jerusha J. — The Government will give him a sword. There are too many men in the world, let them kill each other off. except John and Mr. Goodman. Abbey S. — Yes mum, there are too many men except Sam. [Enter Lucy Johnson, 1st R.] Ijucy J. — Well, aunt, has Abbey been telling you that Sam Rob- erts is going to leave her? Jerusha J. — Yes, my child, but as Mr. Goodman Bays, -all is van- ity." Lucy J. — I have been giving Solomon credit for tint refreshing sentiment, aunt. But if you will pardon me, I should like to have the parlor to myself for a few moments. I am informed a visitor in the hall desires to sec me alone for a moment. [Exit Abbey S., 1*t L. Jerusha J. crossing to R.] Jerusha J. — Some vile man. that my niece would renounce the world, as Mr. Goodman says. [Exit 1st R.] Alt. T. — [Enter 1st L.] Ah ! Miss Lucy you are cruel to keep me waiting so long. But I am afraid by seeing you — Lucy J. — Mr. Thornton will confer v favor by transacting his business with me as soon as possible. I have another engagement. f Alf. T. — I can imagine that engagement, Miss Lucy. I hope to sever it some day. I came to say that to-night I start south to be absent, Heaven only knows how long. I could not leave without coming to say farewell and to assure you of my love. Lucy J. — Sir, I told you before this subject was offensive to me, why will you persist. Alf. T. —Miss Lucy, let the depth of my devotion be my only ex- cuse. I know I have beea bad in many thing?, but pure in this. 10 my worship of you. I go to fight in what I deem right, and ere I leave tell me yon do not hate me, and that in hours of peril you will pray at lease for my safety. Lucy J. — I pray for your safety ! I, whose brother and friends are going to fight against you, pray for your safety! Why Alfred Thornton, this is the very sublimity of impudence and cool effron- tery. No, sir, while I shall invoke Heaven to bring peace to my country, I shall pray that justice be meted out to the bad men who have brought sorrow to my home aud my heart. Leave me, Mr. Thornton, this subject is even more objectionable than that of your love. Alf. T. — Miss Lucy, listen to mo. I am not so bad that the slightest word you could utter would not make me a good man. I am a Southern man in feeling, but a yes from your lips would lead me to fight in any cause. The faintest hope of your love would make me respond to-morrow to Lincoln's call. If you would save me, Miss Johnson, Miss Lucy, do not cast me off without a hearing. Lucy J. — Now, sir, I despise you. Your words confirm my worst fears of your utter want of principle. I can respect the Southern people who honestly act out their errors, but a man whose sword hangs on a woman's word when great principles are at stake, should not be trusted even by his friends. Alf, T. — You are as cruel as you are beautiful. I have been a wanderer in the world without relatives or love till I met you. Is it not worth your while to try my salvation? Why crush me still lower, when you can raise me to your own level ! Lucy J. — I would save you, Mr. Thornton. 1 would do much to' make you a good, true man. If you only change now I can give you the love of a sister. Alf. T. — No more than a sister's love ? Lucy J. — No more than a sister's love is mine to give. Alf. T. — Then the die is cast, and while blood flows through this right strong arm it will hold a sword against those you love, and while my heart beats its every throb will be hatred and death to Louis Ludlow. [Exit 1st L] Lucy J. — Yes, death to the man who saved your life. (Solus.) Oh ! My Father above, that this fearful dream of death would pass away. One short month ago and who so happy as I ! Home, bro- ther and Louis ! Now all seems dark as that ttme far away back when mother died. Oh, Louis, you must go, though it breaks my heart, ray brave, noble Louis ! Abbey S.— [Enter 1st L.] Oh, Miss Lucy, you look so pale. I feel very pale too on account of Sam, though your aunt Gurusha ■says ' 'tis vanity.' Your vanity is at the door, Miss Lucy, Mr. Louis 11 Ludlow. He looks awful riled. Gues3 he met that other vanity Thornton, down the road. Lucy J. — Tell Mr. Ludlow to come in, Abbey. [Exit Abbey S., 1st L.] [Enter Louis L., 1st L.] Lucy J. — 0, Louis ! Welcome ! Welcome ! I have wanted you so much. Louis L.— Lucy, why are you so excited? Has that man Thorn- ton been here ? Come, tell me all about it. Lucy J. — jes, Louis, he has been talking again. I know I ought not to have seen him. But I hoped I might be able to make him see the right. Louis L. — You are the kindest girl in the world, and the best, but I am afraid, Lucy, you undertook too large a job in making Thorn- ton a good man. lie would have been in his grave to-day but for me ; yet, when I met him in the road as he left here, he passed me with a scowl and low mutterings of revenge. Lucy J. — Promise me, Louis, you will not court a difficulty with him. Louis L. — But if I meet him in arms against me, Lucy — Lucy J. — Well, then, Louis, 1 would wound him in the arm so that he could not fight. Louis L — [laughing.) Would it not be better to wound him so that he could not run. Lucy J. — Well, as you say, Louis, but please don't kill any one. I do so hope no body will be killed in this fearful war. Louis L. — (laughing.) It would certainly be a fearful war if there were no one killed. But, my darling, (taking her hand) if all the soldiers were like you, we would meet on the field, drop our arms and shake hands as we do and be friends, eh ! Lucy J. — Yes, indeed, Louis'; but I want to tell you we have been making a beautiful flag. Alice Gray and myself bought the material. To-morrow, before you leave, we are going to present it to you. Wont you guard it for my sake? Louis L. — For your sake ! You selfish little mortal ! I will guard it for the sake of the Union, and cherish that particular flag for my darling, and our own little Union — that is to be. But I must leave, we are enrolling men in the village and I must get back. Now good-by till to-morrow. Lucy J. — Good-by, my own brave Louis. [Exit.] / 12 SCENE THIRD, Wood or Landscape. Music. Enter Troops, 1st L. Stag* March or Drill. Enter R II. Young Ladies with Flag, Vil- lagers following. Officer. — (Commands,) Attention! Color-guard, to the front, march. [Color Bearer — Louis Ludlow ; Color Guards— Jackson Ludlow, Jack Johnson, Sam Roberts and Jim Hansom.] Speech by Lucy J. — My friends, the flag which I hold in my hand is the emblem of our whole nation. Its glorious field of blue repre- sents not only our own beloved Ohio, but every State in the North now arming for the defense, and every State in the South arrayed against us in Rebellion. This flag was wrought by your sisters' hands, is covered with our tears of sorrow at this parting, and hal- lowed by our prayers for its Safety and your return. I need not tell you to guard it bravely, for I am convinced the brave men be- fore me will protect its folds. You will return it in safety, and I pray God, that with it may come the brave color-guard to whom I intrust it. In the dark hours of battle look up to the God of jus- tice. Look around on the land of our fathers and remember the sisters who bow for you in prayer. Louis L. — Miss Johnson, permit me in behalf of my comrades, to thank you and the thoughtful ladies who co-operated with you in procuring this flag. We accept it with a full appreciation of the trust imposed through you by the nation. We are about to march for the scene of war, and we have that dread of death incident to all men who risk life for principle. One by one of the color-guard now standing before you may drop off by bullet or disease, but this glorious banner will fall to hands as brave. W T hile God gives us strength to guard it, in the summers march, the winter's bivouac and the battle's fearful storm, we will ever keep it pointed to that Heaven from which our greatest protection must come. With you, we pray that all may return in safety, bringing back the colors without a stain, and the news of a land preserved through our valor and firm devotion. SONG. Air— Bruce's Address. Girls — Guard the flag, brothers brave, From every traitor hand, With your swords dig the grave For the foes of our land. Think, in the battle's hour, Of what our fingers wrought, 13 Fla£ of the Union's power, For which our forefathers fought. Guard the flag ! Guard the flag — Flag of the brave and free, Till it floats from every crag, From the lakes down to the sea. Soldiers. — For this our swords we draw, For this our lives we'll give ; Till all wrong bows down to law. That liberty may live. What if though this guard may die, What if thousand- in ij be slain. Still aloft this flag will fly Triumphant o'er the main. We will guard the flag, Flag of the brave and ff Till it floats o'er ev From the lakes down to the Chorus. Girls. —Guard the Hag ! Guard the flag! Soldiers. — We will guard this honored Hag! Flag of the brave and fi Till it floats from every crag From the lakes down to the sea. Color guard march back on } whil< oyiar commands attention. Carry arms. Present artns. Band Salute. ~ Carry arms. Right face. Port arms. Break ranks. March. Mr. L.—(To Louis Z.)— Well, my boy, you have something to fight for; may God bless you aud bring you back in safety. ° But go, Lucy is watching you. I must see Jackson and all the boys. Louis Lj. — A short time, dear father, and I hope to return, bring- ing you the good news of a restored land. (Joins Lucy J.) Well, Lucy, that was a beautiful speech of yours, and a beautiful flag accompanied it. Lucy J— Certainly a beautiful flag, Louis, but do be careful for my sake. Don't rush into danger unless there is a necessity, will you ? Please say you won't. Louis L. — Rush into unnecessary danger. Why, you dear soul, I have ycu to live for. Why should I expose myself. Now tell me you will write very long gossipy letters, all ah Jut the village; and you can tell me if Abbey Smith here gets auother beaux instead of Sam. 14 Abbey S. — No, thank you, Mr. Ludlow, I am satisfied with my vanity. Miss Gurusha is right, all the world is vanity to me. Isn't it, Sam? Sam R — Your head is level there, 4bbey. Here is something I want you to keep for my sake. {Hands red handkerchief.) Abbey S. — I'll wear this night and day, even if Miss Guru3ba does call it vanity. (Assembly is given.) Louis L — The bugle sound : gooi-by my own own one. Lucy J. — Good-by, Louis. Farewell. Soldiers shake, hands with villagers. Battalion forms. Officer commands attention. Present arms. Carry arms. Bata-llion, right face. Music — <: Girl I left behind me." Troops file off stage. Busi- ness. Villagers R. F. Soldiers m railroad ear. with colors and guard ttle, pours out more whisky, while banding bottle buck Tom F. subs itutes a glass of water for the whisky. Peter raises his g es it, looks in and around it.] • H. — Mein Got! in Hi mm el ras is das. I puds viskcy in mcin glass one dime, and veu I trinks dere is de glass, but dunncr, . ; and von I puds some more viskey mit mein glass, der is rasser, al jr. Ich kon nicht vy dis is so, aber es ist war. Alf T. — x*es», my friends, if you will listen to me, your hate for the cowardly Yankees will become more intense, and your determ- ination stronger to resist them. The day the news came to our vil- lage that the South dared to assert her rights by firing on the Stars and Stripes, the emblem of abolition and oppression, I dared, as a freeman, to express my feelings for the South. Put whs I permitted to go on? No ! a .hundred cowards, with a rope to hang me, gath- ered aronnd and threatened my life. I had but one friend, brave Tom Flvnn, the man who accompanied me here. Tom F. — Yer right there, Mr. Thornton. It was yersel had always :> dollar an' a dhrink for Tom. An' talking about dhrinks, Mr. Thornton, sorrow one of me is dhry at all at all, but for the sake of the illejrant gintlemeu around me I could dhrink the lakes of Kill- arnee dhry. Providen, of course, tbat the lakes were made of po- theen instead of nasty wather. Bob M. — Strangers, I'll liquor this time. I aiut much for whisky. I'd as soon eat a young un with the whoopin' cough as drink alone. Put I'll stair this for all hands an' to dry up that are feller who will gab like an ole woman with the toothache. Come up all on yon an 1 drink, p'raps for the last time with Bob Mason. 17 Alf. T. — Glad of the lienor Mr. Mason. Long G. — Bob aint heavy on the drink, bo: t him or* anything 1 else an ? ye'd better git ont of his Tray. [Liquor is poured ont. Dob Mason lays his glass down, when Tom F. after drinking his own t on'?, without apparently- looking Mason reaches out his left hand -ps Tom's arm with such force that a howl of pain.] Bob M. — See here, you dogoncd lit;! icks on men as walks with their eyes >wn with trieir eyes open. I don't kar for the wL morn an eagle does for lightnen. But if I bought a i oy own use I'd have it ia my own !' in the mountain. Now git. Tom F. — Oh. I at all. Sure, avick It is not ID our family to wr hand, on it. Peter JH.—lch viskey und der tai • Mountaineer. — The through with it' you nns keep stranger. Alf. T. — W b< □ tin polled one and facii lured them all and the cowards fell back. I told them then 1 intended going into Tennes- see to raise a company of mount. kttle for the South. For long days and nights I have traveled I i re. 1 nm now among yon. Who is willing to j [All except I- I .. I - tranger.] Mountaineer. — Bob .' wge agoing to join us to fight for Tenni Bob M. — I aint a man of book larnin 1 like this stranger, whose tongue is as smooth as i dangeroos, while his heart is &$ hard and as cold, but afore I Bght the Yankees, I want to know whar they have wronged me and mine. My young 'nns are safe on the mountain, au' I kin come air go, with none to stop me. Long- ago I heerd my father speak of Gineral Jackson and the whole Union, an' by that I'm goin' to stan'. I have no slaves, uor would hit have if I could. I alius thought it sneakin' to steal the game killed by another man's rifle. This is a rich man's quarrel, let the rich men fight for the South. I'll stau by the Union, an' it'll be some unhealthy for the cu=s that trio? to stop me. . 18 Mountaineer. — liver w us North, Bob Mason, they'd baug you. Alf T, — Yes, and if the bra*e men South did their duty they would hang hira where he stands. [Crowd.— Shoot the scoundrel. Hang him up. Cut his heart out. They rush at him with knives and pistols. Bob Mason with Long- George beside him, coolly backs against the wall, a pistol in each hand.] [Exit Tom F. and Peter II. hurriedly.] Bob M. — You cowards and skunks, to turn on a mouutaiu man tor darin' to do right. Back there, or by the ghost of Gineral Jack- son, I'll send daylight through you. (To Thornton). Out of my path; Long George and me is goin' North whar you cum'd from, and let the devil tempt none of yon to stop me. Keep along side, George. The cowards know me too well to shoot. We 'uns will return an' look out. you cowards, when we light the signal for the hunt on the mountain. S C E N !•; S EC N 1). lv).\D OB Landscape. [Entir 1st L.] Peter Y/. — l>.u Irishman trinks risky alle sames Ich trinks lager. It vas so strange, I pig oop mine glass, dere is notting, und ven I pigs it opp vonce more, der is vasser, und 1 shoost tinks Peter vas der teufel h de madder mid do trinks. [Estbb Tom Fi.ynn, 1st L., sixgixg.] An:—///// of (Urn O'Kery. Och, my name is bould Morgan McCarty, from Thrim, Me relations all died except one brother, Jim, An' he's gone a fightin' away to Cabul, Faith I fear he's laid low wid a nick in his skull. But let him be dead or be liven, Some prayers for his soul I'll be given, That'll sind him sthraight over to heaven, For he left me this darlin 1 ould Btbick. Och, if this sthick had a tongue, Shure it could tell ye some tales, How it schmothercd the countenances of the O'Nales ; It made bits of skull to fly up in the air, It was the promother of fun at aich fair; For I swear by the toe nails of Moses It often broke bridges of noses — Of the factions that dared to oppose us, Mvsel' an' mv darlin' ould sthick. 19 Ocb, the last time I ued it wuz ou Patrick's day, Larry Fagan and I we got on a sphray. We went to a fair 'tother side of Atbray. An' we danced, an' wain dun, I kissed Kate Mr Aim v. An' her thrue love ran out for his cousin : By the 'tarnel he brought in a dozen. An' they'd knocked us into a doldhreen. Hadn't it been for my dariin' ould Bth i F. (dticox r 11. — Vc'r there, are ye? Well, it, an' whin a Flynn says it, ye may bet it's thrue. ivery word. I'vt* thraveled across the ocean, an' I've seen heavy dhrinkin' at home, but for a pussy little Dutchman, ye can j is t wear the color. Och. by the pipers, its yersel' kin change the location of whiskey with- out so much as winkin'. an' ye'r not diirunk ! Well, by my con- I respect yer capacity, as Jonah said to the whale. r 27. (angrily). — Icu weirs nicht was Bie "tin. Was for you trinks mein visk<\v, and was for • jer in mein glass, you bese von tain Tom /•'.— e jour breath to cool yo oat, an' d if ye value yer life, provoke Tom l 3 tare if I wuz to lay me paw on ye. divil a one of ye'd have time to offer up a prayer till ye'd be where dbrinl irceran' mure needed than in Aist Tennessee. (In a milr/rr tone.) Hut. come here, let us be fnens, an" tell me if yer parie- how many childhren ye have the dead image of yersel'. And avick, jist inform me if ye could lone a decent number of my family a dollar and fifty cents for one hour air a half. I'm expecting money, musha, God knows it's meseT has been expecting it for many a day. r //. — (/.' it hi* hand ) I duut rant to make a fuss mit you. You're all richt. Hut I geta gros- mid so much d rubble all de dime. Tom F. — Come over and lane ou me, au if ye have any f rubble jist pour it out to me as ye would to yer own blessed mother. ■ r H. — Vel I tinks 3ome dings all de dime. Yen I conns mit dis land I choins de Mericans un I takes vat you call de oat. Tom F. — Will, yer not a native American thin. Well upon my conscience ye talk so well I thought ye a lively Aist Tennessee Mountaineer. Peter //.—No, Ich komt from Dentchland aber Ich bin tin Amer- icaner by dis paber. Head de paber. [Hand* Tom a paper. Tom pretend* to read and tar** il about in /) kmnde. Tom F. — Well, whats this share Me eyes aim as young as tbej u*ed to be. 20 r 11. — Vy das ist inein allegiance, de paber mit vich I makes mine vote at de polls in lectin time. Tom F. — You take that paper to the polls? Peter II. — 0. jab, all de dime. Tern F. — Well, 1 ic sorry yer a foreigner and dont understan the lnglish tongue. Tve been voten since the day I landed, and doru'd if I iver had to take an oath, or git a dirty bit of paper like that to do it. r II. — But vut shall I do, shall I go siit de Onion, or mil de .State, I have very much drabble bout dat. /'. — Arrah, me frien, giveyersel no thrubble about goin with the Union or tte Sthate, but give me the dollar and fifty ciuts ye promised, an go wid me an III dhrink yer health iu a bumper. E ' ' ' B < G K N i: T II I 11 D. Rocky pas* ockbano fire, Bob Mabon, Lokg George, Father Allen an;) Refcg >vered. — Wail, I'm right smart glad we're in Kaintuck. Hope that Thornton and his noun's won't chase us anymore. Kaintuck's neutral. Ain't for lighten nobody. Bob M. — Ye can't make a mountain cat look like a deer, nor squeeze fire 30 flat as to take it for water. Kaintuck is crouching on the hill top like a lynx, and which ever side she springs on look out. Though it may be that there is a lynx wanton' to go at each side. Then I say look out for a fight between the lynxs. Father A. — Already we have lost many of our number to reach this place, but we can only be Bafe under the Hag 1 carried as a. soldier in the everglades of Florida. Hob M. — Don't be cast down father Allen. We' una will Stan' by you like us lookout by the Tennessee. The men are posted ou guard, and if we are attacked again to-night, God pity the men that, drive us to bay. Father A. — 1 know you are brave, Uob, but what are we against so many. Our friends arc slain on the mountains, or hanging to the [dues on the hill side-. I do not like this place; there is no chonct lor retreat. Bab M. — No, father, no chance for retreat; thar is no need for retreat. Night an' day they have driven us from our homes and families, and my heart is sore with our sufferings and wrongs. Hetter die like brave men heah in Kaintuck, than be dogged still ■21 farther through the mountains, with sore feet an 1 Etarrin' inwards, an' hearts full of sorrow. Better die whar the ring of our rifles will echo near our own mountains, than fall off one by one. a prey to the blood hounds who chase us. Long O. — That talk suits me, Bob. I'm out of Tennessee, and doggoned if I want to run any more. Fugitives. — It suits me. And me. And me. Father A. — God bless you my brave boys. Come about the fire. (Listening.) Hark, I heard a yell away down the mountain. Did you hear it, Bob? Bob. T. — No, father Allen, it was the wind I reckon blown around the rocks. I often hear it so in the mountains a night. Father A. — Well, I am getting kind of old, I reckon, *nd I aint young, an' I feel the walkeir an' starven' more than younger men. Though I will say, Bob, I have eaten more of your bread than you have yourseF. (Listens.) I did hear a sound Bob. I am not mis- taken. It comes from towards Gumb rap. (Bob Mason it Bob M. — Tom Dav. Echo.— Hello ! Bob M. — Can you see down the valley? Echo. — I can sir. Dob M. — What do you Echo. — A light on the mountain. Bob M. — All right, shout if it con Echo. — I will. Father A. — I want to speak to all, for I feel the ing will soon come. Long G. — Speak out lather Allen, we are listening. Father A. — You know that it will be death to fall into Th ton's hands. Fugitives. — We do. Father A. — You know it will be death to return to Tenni without the flag. Fugitives. — We do. We do. Father 4. — Let us bind ourselves together by an oath before Heaven, as we are now bound by our feelings. Are you willing to swear to" stand by the last man till death, and the Union through life. Fugitives. — We are. We are. Father A.— Bob give me the old flag. 22 (Bob Mason takes flag from hunting pouch and hands father Allen.) Father A. — All lay your hands on this flag and repeat after me. (All lag their hands on the flag and uncover their heads, as Father Al- len speakesin a slow solemn voice, with his face raised.) Father. A — In the presence of God, here in his mountain temples, I pledge my wordly goods, and stand ready to lay down my life, to defend this flag, which I swear to protect as the emblem of the whole Union. And I promise before Heaven always to stand by my brothers who are here, and to permit neither myself nor them to be captured alive by the Rebels. And if God spares my life, day and night, winter and srammer, in sunshine and in rain, I will battle with thi3 one heart object : to bring the flag in triumph to Tennessee, and every part of the Union. Asking God to bless and guard us, we swear. (Bob Mason ties the flag to a stick and fastens it in the rocks, while do- ing so a shot is heard from the mountains.) Echo. — They are coming. All about us. Bob J/.— Come down, come. (To Long George.) Call in the guards. Here father Allen stand near this rock where you will be Fafc. 1 think the day is breaking. (Shooting heard in ihe distance. Guards rush in.) \st Guard. — Thornton is close by. Oh, God, we are lost. [Bob Mason cooly raises his rifle and fires. The rest follow and fire briskly. A cry of pain is heard as fugitives fall back, and Father Allen falls dying, with face to the mountain.] Tableaux — Troops Marching up the Mountain. Father A. — Now, oh, Lord, 1 can die in peace, the flag has come back to Tennessee. Mun'c — Curtain*. 23 ACT III. SCENE FIRST. Slot? Music. Parlor in Farmer Johnson's House. Jerusha Johnson, Lucy Johnson, Alice Gray, Susan Maria Hansom, and other ladies, discovered sewing and knitting. Jerusha J. — I am not suprised at anything now. Two years ago when the war broke out, if any one had told me Mr. Goodman would have dressed up in fancy clothes and gone off for a Chaplain, I would have said he is a man of peace, and looks on all those things as vanity. So, Lucy, I am not surprised that you want to leave and go down into those wild mountains to nurse men. Oh, when I was young — I mean when I was a child, young girls were not so reckless as they are now. Lucy J. — Aunt, I am sorry you should consider me reckless. The lines of duty and desire do not always run parallel. I would prefer for my own comfort to remain in this quiet home, working with you and my friends to show the soldier boys we do not forget them. But, when I read of terrible battles and the suffering wounded, suffering for me and you, Aunt, I feel duty calling me from comfort to hardship, that I may minister to other brothers and friends, as I would have mine cared for. Jerusha J. — Well, well, T suppose I would do the same thing. I wonder if Chaplains have to fight. Alice G. — I hope they do. I know I weuld not want to wear the uniform if I could not fight. Lucy J. — Why, you dear child, you have no thought of donning the uniform, have you? Alice G. — No, not exactly. But if Mother were well I would not remain here a day. I feel sometimes when I read of terrible marches and cold nights on picket, that I would like to rest a sol- dier by carrying his knapsack, or acting for him on guard. (Turn- ing to Lucy.) By-the-way, Lucy, dear, have you fully made up your mind to go? Lucy J. — Yes, and I have decided to start for Chattanooga to- morrow. 24 Ml Maria. — Well, now, Lucy, ye'll see my Jim Hansom down there, and I want you to tell him to be awful keerful and not run into danger. Whin he writ last time he tole me he kem nigh bein' shot in the hat. Just think how close that is to Jim's head. You know, Lucy, he always would wear bis hat over his eyes. Try an' get Jim not to do so any more. Alice G. — Better have a ball near hn hat. Susan Maria, than a brick in it. Susan Maria. — 1 do say, Alice Gray, you'r the queerest gal I ever seed. What would my Jim be doing with a brick in his hat. Alice G. — Why, Susan Maria, the bricks are supposed to be mixed with whiskey, and are carried for the heat and the cold. And men put them in their hats when they feel sleepy, and too wide awake, and when they fed happy, and tired, and — Waria.. — Why, sakes alive, Alice Gray, I do hope my Jim will have one of them bricks in his hat all the time, [laughter) (Enter Abbey Smith 1st /?.) Abbey S. — Oh, Miss Lucy, Mr. Ludlow an' Mr. Williams, an' Mr. Johnson, your dear father, an' Mr. Gray, an' they all says are you ready to see them, an' Miss Lucy when are you going away, an' will you be sure to see my vanity. I have something for him. Lucy J. — Your vanity, why what do you mean you silly girl. Abbey S. — (t< ice uilh apron.) Oh, you know Miss Lucy. Lucy J. — How should I know, you foolish thing? Abbey S. — Sam Roberts, he's my vanity. Oh, if Sam was to git hart, I declare to goodness I'd take laudlum, or go down there an' just tear the eyes out of them nasty rebels. Jerusha J. — There, there, Abbey Smith, you make me blush. What is this world coming to. Tell the gentlemen to walk in. Abbey S. — Yes mum. [Exit 1st R.] [Enter 1st R. Squire Williams, Farmlii Johnson, Mr. Ludlow and Kb. Gray. They sltakc hand* with the Ladies. Enter 1st R. Abb it Smith.] Squire W.— Hard at work. Now, thats right. I believe in doing everything to restore the Union. Susan Maria you know that. Didn't I send Jim Hansom off at once ? Yes, and I'd send every re- lative in the world. Mr. L. — No body can doubt your patriotism Squire. They say Morgan is coming this way from Indiana. Of course you will turn out to fight him. [Jerusha Johnson screams, and Abbey Smith gives her a drink.) Squire W. — Jim nansom ought to be here. When I was young, Mr. Ludlow, I could fight. I dar'd au Englishman one lime to come into my yard. But now, now, Mr. Ludlow. I'm too old. And then the school. You see I'm a trustee. Farmer J. — That's true, Squire, the country could'nt get along without you. And a good school director is hard to get : but I have one boy a fighter for the Union, an' here's my girl Lucy again to leave me like a little angel to keer for the wounded. I aint no better than my children, and if John Morgan comes this way I'll help to make it tough work carryin' war into Ohio. Darn me if I don't. (Quickly.) Excuse me, ladies, but of lite I often feel like cussen. Jcruska J. — Oh. brother, what will become of the country if yon are so wicked. Alice G. — I just wish I was a man sometimes, Mr. Johnson. Farmer J. — Wky t Alice, what would Jack do if you were. What do you want to be a man for ? Alice G. — Why I would like to sit down b at the Rebels till I calmed myself. Jeruslia J. — Oh, when I was young ; I mean when I was a girl ; young folks did'nt dare to talk so. What is this world coming to. Mr. L, — By-the-way, Lucy. I heard from Louis to-day. He desir- ed me to say he wrote you at the same time. He goes into raptures over that noble fellow. Lob Mason, whom they rescued in the moun- tain two years ago. I often think of that occurrence, and I hope be- fore the war closes the death of that old man they called father Allen, may be aven_ Lucy J. — Yes. I beard from Louis this morning. He informs me that a great fight is daily expected. I am the more anxious to get off, so as to be there in time. Jeruslia J. — Come, girls, handle up your work, nexc week we meet at Mr. Gra Mr. G. — Where I shall to have you. Alice (,'. — Oh, before putting away tfa :g I wish to put this letter in. It will do some brave boy good to read it. Lucy, dar- ling, I will not bid you To-morrow I will be over to seo you. Squire W. — Ye:, we will all be over to see her off. She ha3 the sort of pluck I like. [Exit all but Squibb W., Jerusha J. and Ab- bey S.] Oh, if I was only young. (Exit.) JcrushaJ. — 0, if I was only young. But all is vanity. !. Abbey S.— Oh. if I was only Mrs. Robert's vanity. 26 S C E N K S E G N D . Landscape oh Woo:*. Bob M. — (Esteu 1st L.) By the ghost of Gineral Jackson, this looks bad for mc. Was an August frost, or a brokeu water wheel an' no flour in the mill. Who'd have thought of Rebels so near our lines. I had to run like a stag before the blood houu's last night, an' now, when I thought mysel all safe, the dogon'd grey cusses are all around me like the measels. If I kin jest get into our lines. we'uns will be ready ; if I don't, may the Lor' help us, for the're a comin' down powerful strong, like a mountain river arter a July vain. Hist, there. {Lays hand on pistol,) I'll try this way, (turns to right.) Thar I see 'em gropen along an 1 in oven roun' this way by the bill. If I had my ride I'd make it onpleasant for a few of 'em afore they gits up. (Goes Left. Shot heard. Bob Mason springs t-ack, drawing ]>islol. Shout is heard.) Veil away, yeh dogon'd sneaks. Ye'll find I'm harder to git than a catfish on the mountain top. [Shot heard. Hob Mason springs back and fires. Enter Rebel squad 1st L. Bob Mason fires, killing officer in command. Retreats Right, when more Rebels enter 1st II, and surround him. Lieut, of Rebel*. — Surrender, surrender, you Yankee bush whacker. Bob Jf. — (Unfastening his belt and laying down hie pittols ) Thar, - all yeh kin have at present, as the catamount said whin they took his skin off. Lieut, of R. — We will not only have your skin, but your life. [Turning to his men.) This is Rob Mason, the scout. Bring a rope here, boys, we will s^on make short work of him. Blast him, that firing was too close to the Yankee lines. Keep n good watch down tli ere. . — All right, sir. [Rebels take off Bob Mason's coat and hat, then bind his hands behind I Q rope about his neck.] 'B. — You have killed Thomas Ludlow, one of my bravest men. You nave hern a curse to this region. Have you anything v before you ; ; Bob jf. — I aint much :it speakin', wimen, that live a long time, an 1 cowards have heaps of gab. I've done nothin' to bring a blush born. I have fought for the Union, an' my only sorrow in' is that I can't live to help her more. I once ,im' children. I loved m tie borne an' my wife an' babies, but you uds hunted me down like a stag, from hill to hill, till I left the State. An' then like cowards, in the cold winter, you uns|burned my hut to the groun', an' my wife an' little ones starved in the mountain. My heart has long carried a fire lit by the men who ruined me an' miue. I've paid you. I'm willin' to be at rest, an' meet them up thar. Lieut, of Rebels. — Swing him up men. (Men prepare to e. Hob Mason, when a )eard.) Quick, men, the Yankees are coming. [Shot? heard, the man fastening the rope falls wounded. Rel rally for an instant, then fall back, when Louis Ludlow dashes on with Union soldiers.] Louis L. — (Frees Bob Mason.) Hello Bob. We came just in time. Bob M. — I was never > see frien's in my life, as tb< said to the honey 1 Louis L. — \ Bad command of our ad the firing some time ago, and reported to the officer in command, lie sent me out to ascertain what it was. 1 hurried on and as I came up the bill I saw that wounded fellov rope about to hang you. M, — (looking II" knows some' him right smart at that time. Tl lead over thar. Louis L. — (Crossing an I Merciful Heaven, Bob, you have killed my brother. This is Tom my poor brave mis- guided Tom. (Km i his heart.) D dead, dead. Oh, Tom, (Jod knows how I would have saved you at the risk of my life. Your heart my brother was always right. (Rising.) There is no time for sorrow, here boys we must car: body back, bring a couple of muskets. (Bis.) Bob M. — Sergeant afore Heaven I did nt know he was your brother. My hand would wither afore it would be raised 'gain-' or yours. Louis L. — (Seizing Bob Ma '.) You did your duty Bob. may every soldier do his as well. But that poor boy was my brother, and bitterly as I hate this rebellion, I could not raise my rifle against him. My poor father when you hear of this. (All Exit carrying body and Guarding Prisoner wno limps.) 28 SCENE THIRD. Music. — Yankee Boodle. Dark AVood. [A Union skirmish line advances across the the stage firing. A regiment appears, with Louis Ludlow carrying the colors, deploys in line of battle and advances. Before crossing stage Union skirmishers are driven back. The regiment halts and fires a volley on the Rebels who advance with a yell. The regiment falls back, Louis Ludlow and several Union soldiers drop. Louis Ludlow drops colors also. Music. — Dixie. The Rebels charge on stage and after Union troops who retreat off to right, Rebels following. Noise of battle gradually dies off iu distance.] Louis L.— [Rising in wonder and feeling bleeding head.) ^ Where am I, where is the regiment. (Hears Rebel yells.) Oh God we are beaten. The colors where are the colors. (Looks around and picks them up.) The enemy is falling back this way; my flag. The flag I swore a traitors hand should never touch, must it be disgraced now? No, no. Now God give me strength. (Takes flag from the staff and opens his breast.) Here near my heart I will wear it. Here till I die I will carrj' the colors. (Conceals flag in breast.) They must not see the staff. Ah, there's a hollow log. Hides flag stafl) then falls pressing his hand to his head.) [Enter Redel Officer with Squad.] Lieut, of R. — (looking over the line.) The enemy is advancing in force, see they are pushing back our centre. (Cheer is heard.) They have captured Nolen's Battery. I fear the day is lost. Take this prisoner to the rear quick. [Exit left with Louis Ludlow.] Music — Star Spangled Banner. [Rebel troops fall back firing to the left of stage, Union troops charge.] TABLEAUX. 20 ACT IV. S C E N B F I R S T. Plain Chamber. Richmond, Va. Plaintive Music. Lucy John- son and Capt. Alfred Thornton discovered. j±Ij\ r.— Well, Miss Johnson, I hope the men have treated you well since your capture near Knoxville. I had charge of you, and but for me you would have been hanged as a rpy after you were cap- tured roaming among the wounded. Do you know where you are now ? Lucy J. — I do not, sir. Alf. T. — You are in the city of Richmond, Virginia. You have made the tour from Tennessee with Longstreet's corps. We had to fall back before the Yankees, under that scoundrel Burnside, but we got nearly even with him. 1 suppose you know we captured Louis Ludlow near Knoxville. He was in our hands for some time.. I tried to save him but he died a few days since of his wound. Lucy J. — (Pressing her hand to her forehead.) Oo on sir, tell me- why you have intruded. Alf T. — From no desire to annoy you, Miss Johnson. Every care bestowed upon you up to this time has been through my influence. I have saved you from insult and disgrace, and 1 have watched over you when you dreamt no friend was nigh. Even now there are charges against you as a spy. They can be proved ; but your life and honor must depend on the reply you give me. Lucy J. — Mr. Thornton I left my home on a holy mission to care for the wounded, who might fall for my country. I learned that Louis Ludlow was dying on the field before Knoxville and went to his aid. Your men took me prisoner and carried me here. You are the moving spirit in this matter, and my death will be on your head. Alf T. — Louis Ludlow I respected as a brave man. He is dead, and his fate lies before you if you do not accept me as a friend. (Draws mar and tries to take her hand.) Ob, Lucy, I have loved you with an intensity weaker natures could not feel. Day and night since I left you, your image has haunted me, and to win even a smile from you 1 would sacrifice all else that's worldly. Lucy J. — Sir, I desire no more of this ; it is cowardly thus to ia- " 3* 30 suit me with the memory of the dead in my heart. I desire to be tried, believing that the Southern men are brave and honorable, be- lieving that only your falsehood and wicked designs have kept me a prisoner. Leave me, sir. at once. Your very presence is worse than death. Alf T. — Not so fast, Miss Johnson, not so fast. For three weeks, though you knew it not, I have been your escort, and my comrades laughed and winked when I approached in the evening's camp the wagon that contained you. Even if you should be dismissed after trial you will leave with a stain and a dishonor on your name. Lucy J. — Oh you are brave thus to insult a helpless girl {holding up her arm*.) My arms are weaker than yours, and there is no one stronger here to protect me. But here, here in my heart I am con- scious of ray honor and parity. And up there at the judgment seat I can stand feeling that I have tried to do my duty, knowing that by word or deed 1 have never wronged the humblest of God's crea- tures. Now Mr. Thornton are you prepared to do the same? Alf. T. — You will drive me mad if you talk so. If I sink the lowest of men it is you who have driven me to it. if I rise regret- ting the errors I ask (lod to forgive it must be through you. You. with no tie that can bind you to the dead, can save me. (Goes to the door and sees that if is Lucy I have ever regretted draw- ing my sword against the cause you love. Give me hope. Tell me that you may regard me. and to-night I will make arrangements whereby we may escape to the Federal lines. Once there I will light for the Union nerved by the hope of your love, and you can watch me from the protection of your honor. Lucy ./. — Sir, 1 respect a brave man, fighting honestly in any cause. I despise a villain, though he stands in the pulpit. Xo cause would make you good. No sword would make you brave. You are as devoid of patriotism as you are of honor. If there be one spark of the love left you bore your mother, leave me. Leave me. Alf. T. — [Excitedly.) ^'es, I will leave you, you decide your own fate. Death awaits you, or worse, a disgrace which will cling to your name and follow you to your grave, and my curse, the curse of a life you have blasted, will follow you forever. Death has no longer a dread for me, and it will be sweet if it comes with the an- guish of those }o\\ love. Louis Ludlow is not dead. (Lucy start*, and clasping her hands, looks up, as if in prayer.) lie is here, within hearing distance of your voice, a prisoner in the Libby. Down below its gloomy rooms there are damp cells, where no ray of light ever en- ters. I kuow Turner, and through him I will place Ludlow where the green slime will cover him, and where, a yellow manacled skel- eton, he will pray for death. Think this over, his fate is in your hands. To-morrow I will cm 11 again. [Exit 1st IL] Lucy J, — (Solas.) Oh, if I could die ! It seems as if my poor heart would break ! Louis 1 raj own brave Louis! God knows I would die to save you ! Ob, Father of all, guard him. protect me. (Starting.) A noise ! Who comes there ? [Enter 1st R. Toney, who closes the door carefully , while Lucy re- treats with an expression of fear.'] Toney — (bowing.) Don't be skeered of me, Miss. I aint white like Cap'n Thornton. Lucy J. — Who arc you ? What do you want here? >/. — I am Toney, Cap'n Thornton's colored boy. I heard him, Miss. I was at de door when he talked so. Fore Heabcn, Cap'n Thornton's a bad man. ft won't be safe for you to stay heah, no how. Miss, I'se only a poor colo'd boy, an' I don't know much, but I docs know dat up dar dere's a Ood, who'll judge me bi'ne bye, an' I docs know dat my heart is good. Eber since Lincura'fl 'clamation, Psc wanted to clarout and go whar dar'a liberty fur all men ob ebery colo\ 1 knows how good, like an angel, yeh's bin a keerin' fur de wounded. I hab slept ebery night like a watch dog, under de wagon yell wuz in, an' I said to (lod I'd dio afore any wrong came eh; Lucy •/. — 1 have seen you before. Toney. — Yes. Miss. Now let me say dar'a heaps ob danger heah wid dat bad man. Von kin 'scape to de Yankee lines.