/: " ''" 2-7 
 
 Loyal Bearls. 
 
 
Cl 
 
 1^ 
 
r 
 
 PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED. 
 
 Loyal Hearts, 
 
 A Military Drama, 
 
 :IN: 
 
 I^i-ve -A-cts 2inc3L Six TaToleairix. 
 
 -:BY:- 
 
 / 
 
 E. T. SAW^YER and A. P. KELLY. 
 
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 SAN JOSE, CAL. (J 
 
 MgNEIL BROS., Book and. Job Printers, Knox Block. ( ) 
 
 ISSO- 
 
This Book must be returned to the Manager. 
 
 OSCAR GlRARD. 
 
 John Bushnell, U. S. A. 
 
 Richard Harley, Overseer and Confederate Spy. 
 
 Uncle Dan, an old Slave. 
 
 Cato, his Son. 
 
 Si Winslow, Sergeant U. S. A. 
 
 Caleb Dow, Private U. S. A. 
 
 Judge Lamar, a Southern Planter. 
 
 Hugh Calvert, his Friend and Neighbor. 
 
 Capt. Armstrong, U. S. A., afterwards Colonel. 
 
 Sergeant Jones, U. S. A. 
 
 Capt. Arnold, U. S. A. 
 
 Private Sloan, U. S. A. 
 
 Guard, C. S. A. 
 
 Union and Confederate Soldiers, Negroes, etc. 
 
 Mildred Buford, Lamar's Niece. 
 
 Helen Marsh, a Governess. 
 
 Mrs. Bushnell, John's Mother. 
 
 Melissa Jane Barnes, Maid-of -all- work. 
 
 -^o C 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress by E. T. Sawyer and A. P. Kelly, in the year 1879, 
 in the office of th-jLibrarian of Congress, Washington, D, C. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 ACT FIEST. 
 
 Scene 1. A view of the Lamar plantation^ Virginia. Planter's dwell- 
 ing, liaised from the ground, with steps and veranda, l. Negro hut, r. u. e. 
 Table and chairs,^, c. Books and papers on table. Music for opening, 
 **Down upon the Suwanee River. ^^ 
 
 Enter young Cato, from hut, with gun, 
 
 Cato. Golly ! I'se gwine git dat yer coon, or bust de gun. (Levels 
 gun in direction 1j. u. e. and fires.) 
 
 Enter Uncle Dan, from hut. 
 
 Dan. Hi dar, you young tarj^er! What you doin' wid dat artil'ry, 
 'sturbin de whole community round yer ? 
 
 Cato. See dat coon up dar? Goramity, pop, he's powerful big; mos' 
 as big as de ole yaller mule. 
 
 Dan. I done tole yer fo'teen million times dat I don't desire to heah 
 no perfanity. Folks tink you some low wite trash, widout no brungin' 
 up. You heah me ? (Cuffs Cato and then looks up, l. u. e. ) I hope I 
 may die dead, if dat ain't de goramightiest mons'ous coon dis nigger eber 
 seed. Whar's dem specs? (Turning to Cato.) Don' you 'splode no 
 mo' powder, youngster. De ole man '11 fotch 'em, suah nuff. 
 
 Exit into hut. 
 
 Cato. Dat ole fool tinks he can shoot. (Puts a double charge into the 
 gun.) He'll tink de yaller mule kick him in de jaw dis time, suah. 
 Yah ! Yah ! Golly, won't it be fun to see de ole nigger 'clipsin' de sun 
 wid dem big feet. Yah ? Yah ! Rader be de coon dan de ole man, 
 when dis yer ting 'splodes. 
 
 Re-enter Dan. 
 
 Dan. Gimme dat blunderbuss — gimme dat, gimme dat now. (Takes 
 the gun. ) Whar de caps ? 
 
 Cato. Here's de cap. Golly, what a roast he'll make. Hit him in 
 de head, pop. 
 
 Dan, Now I'll show you how to knock him down skientific like. 
 Dar's a heap ob skience 'bout shooting a gun, Cato, and de ole man jes 
 on'stans all de conflummifications ob de art. (Aiming.) Keep yo' eye 
 peeled, now. Heah comes dat coon. (Fires and falls backward.) 
 
 Cato. Yah ! Yah ! And dar goes de ole moke ! De conskimikashuns 
 ob de art hit him in de jaw, suah nufif. 
 
 Runs offiu. u. e. 
 
4 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Enter Judge Lamar and Helen /rom house, l. 
 
 Lamar. Why, Uncle Dan, what is the matter? Nobody killed, is 
 there ? 
 
 Dan. {Groaning.) Oh, massa ! 
 
 Lamar. What, are you hurt ? (Goes iqy to Dan, who is stretched upon 
 the ground. ) 
 
 Dan. (Rising with difficulty, as if in great pain.) Dat's what I'se 
 trying to 'lucidate. Dis yer nigger thought he was gone to his long home 
 and Aberham's bosom. 'Pears like sumfin drapped kinder sudden round 
 heah jis den, an' ole Dan was in de way. 
 
 Helen. Are you hurt very badly. Uncle Dan? Let me help you. 
 (Steps forward. ) 
 
 Dan. No, no. Bress you heart, Mis' Helen, I'se jes a little dis- 
 gruntled, dat's all. Dat yer little imp, Cato, been playin' jokes on his 
 ole daddy, but I'll joke him by de wool when I cotch him. If dis foot 
 eber reach him, he's a gone nigger. Exit into hut. 
 
 Lara. You pay too much attention to the troubles of these people. 
 Miss Marsh. It doesn't do them any good, and before long they will be 
 coming to you about everything, and so become a source of inlinite an- 
 noyance. 
 
 Hel. You know our views differ regarding the colored people, Jud^e 
 Lamar. I never see them, even in their happy moments, without feeling 
 the tears rise to my eyes. But we won't talk about that now, for I have 
 something to tell you. 
 
 Lam. Nothing unpleasant, I hope ? 
 
 Hel. Yes, it is for me. 
 
 Judge. Ah ! 
 
 Hel. I have been with your family as governess for a long time, and 
 feel much attached to all at Fairview. Mildred I love as a sister, and 
 you have been like a father to me. But (hesitates!) 
 
 Lam. (Kindly.) But nothing has happened to change all this, I 
 hope? 
 
 Hel. There is no change in my feelings, and I trust our relations are 
 the same. But I must leave Fairview, and at once. 
 
 Lam. You do not mean that the trouble between your people of the 
 North and our people here in the South will induce you to leave us ? 
 
 Hel. Yes, that is the reason, but do not misunderstand me. 
 
 Enter Mildred /row house, l. 
 
 Mil. Helen did you say you were going away from Fairview? I 
 think I caught those words as I came in. You surely do not mean it? 
 
 Hel. Yes, I was just explain ing to your uncle that I feel it to be my 
 duty to return to New England, for we can not tell how soon the storm 
 of war may break upon us, nor how serious may be the result. 
 
 Lam,. I assure you, my dear Miss Marsh, that the war, should it 
 open, will not last long. The rights of the Southern States will be tri- 
 umphantly vindicated by their chivalrous sons very quickly; and the 
 North will gladly make peace with the Southern Confederacy. 
 
 Mil. Yes, uncle is right. The war will not last long, for who can 
 oppose the soldiers of the South in battle. The North will not attempt 
 to do so. Then all will be quiet again, and you can stay here with us 
 just as if nothing had happened. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 5 
 
 Hel. I think you are over confident. I know the firm determination 
 of our New Englanders, too well. Should my cousin join the army, and 
 I know he will be among the first, there would bs no one to stay with 
 aunt unless I go to her. I must go. 
 
 Lam, I understand your feelings, my dear girl, and I can not say that 
 you are not right. If you must go, God bless and preserve you. 
 
 Hel. Believe me, I shall never forget the many happy days I have 
 spent at Fairview, and shall ever cherish the hope that we may meet 
 again. Mildred, I have much to say to you before we part. Let us go 
 into the house. 
 
 Exeunt into hoiise L. 
 Enter Calvert r. 2 e. 
 
 CaL 'Mornin' Judge. Taking a constitutional, as it were ? 
 
 Lam. Well, yes. I rather enjoy the fresh air these fine mornings. 
 Any news to communicate since our last discussion? 
 
 Cal. Nothing very definite, but it is still possible that the breach 
 may be healed, if temperate counsels prevail. 
 
 Lam. Calvert, you are wrong. The interference of the North in the 
 domestic aiffairs of the Southern States has been too flagrant, and if al- 
 lowed to continue, will destroy our prosperity. This man, Lincoln, in- 
 tends to deprive us of our property, and you know as well as I, that the 
 two races cannot exist here on equal terms. I tell you, Virginia must 
 follow South Carolina and withdraw from the Union. 
 
 Cal. As a member of the Convention which meets two days from 
 now, I shall oppose secession with my voice and vote. It is a step that 
 will bring upon us the horror and desolation of war. There is no justi- 
 fication for it. I hold that the North has assailed none of our rights. 
 The South has had control of the Government up to the present time, 
 and has no cause for complaint. 
 
 Lam. One would believe you to be a Yankee, Calvert, from your 
 talk. You are no true Southerner. 
 
 Cal. Hold, Judge Lamar ! I am as true a Southerner, and perhaps 
 more a friend to the interests of the South than you, with all your hot- 
 headed notions of chivalry. I am the firm friend and lover of our beau- 
 tiful country, and I speak plainly for her good, for your interest, for 
 mine and for every man's. 
 
 Lam. Calvert, you may be honest, but you are a fool if you do not 
 Vote with me for secession. 
 
 Cal. Vote as you please, but I tell you posterity shall hold you re- 
 sponsible for the desolating ruin and suffering that will inevitably follow 
 such an act. It is the hight of madness, folly and wickedness. 
 
 Lam. I have no patience with you, but I don't want to quarrel with 
 my old friend. So, say no more. Ah, here is Harley, just the man I 
 want. 
 
 Enter Harley, whip in hand, R. 2 e. Music. 
 
 Har, ( To Lam. , obsequiously, ) Good morning, sir. I trust you are 
 well. 
 
 Lam. (Coldly.) Good morning. 
 
 Har. (To Cal., surlily.) 'Mornin'. 
 
 Cal. (Shortly.) How do you do ? (Aside.) I don't like that fellow's 
 looks. He's just fit for a slave driver. Exit in house L. 
 
6 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Lam, Harley, where are the niggers ? 
 
 Har. In the quarters, sir. 
 
 Lam. Tell them Miss Marsh is about to leave us, and let them come 
 up on the lawn for a little while. Perhaps she would like to see that 
 they enjoy their life very well, if they are slaves. 
 
 Exit into house. 
 
 Har. Yes, sir. (Aside.) Some of 'em enjoy this. {Cracking whip.) 
 Enter J) a.^ from hut. 
 
 Har. (Roughly. ) Here you, Dan, come here ! 
 
 Dan. (Humbly.) Yes, massa. (Comes up.) 
 
 Har. The Judge wants all you niggers to come up on the lawn — 
 wants 'em right oflf, d'ye understand? Now shake your lazy bones and 
 let 'em know. Be quick about it, or I'll give you a dressing that will 
 last you till Christmas. 
 
 Dan. Yes, massa, I'll fotch 'em right up. 
 
 Har. Get out, then. (Snaps whip at him. ) 
 
 Exit Dan, l. u. e. 
 
 I owe that old scoundrel one, and I'll pay it before the day is out, or 
 else there is no virtue in a blacksnake. I'll take the hypocritical meek- 
 ness and humility out of him, if I have to take it out of his hide. Twice 
 he has interfered when I had things all fixed for proposing to the Judge's 
 niece. Dropped in by accident, he said. He lied. He knew he was 
 put up to it by that Yankee schoolmarm, who hates me worse than 
 poison. But they shan't foil me. I've set my heart on Mildred Buford, 
 and I'll have her in spite of fate ! 
 
 Exit R. 2 E. 
 Enter Dan, Cato and darkies, l. u. e. 
 
 Dan. Now look heah, chillen. Dis heah is de las' time you'll hab to 
 see Mis' Helen. She's gwine up Norf, and won't come back no mo'. 
 I'se heer'd de ole massa talkin' 'bout dar gwine to be a heap ob trubble 
 'tween de Norf and de Souf, and mebbe dar'U be shootin' fore dey's 
 done; an' dat's de reason Mis' Helen done got to go away f'rm Fairview. 
 Some of the darkies begin to cry. 
 
 Now shut up dat takin' on. Dar ain't no use actin' foolish 'bout it, 
 and 'pearin' solemcoliy fore de missus. Mebbe dey won't be no fuss in 
 ole Virginny, but I'se arribed at de confusion dat de cuUud folks gwine 
 to see libely times fore long, you heah me. 
 
 Re-enter Harley, r. 2 e. 
 
 Har. What's that, you black rascal ? What do you know about it ? 
 
 Dan. Nuffin, Massa Harley. I'se only jes' tellm' 
 
 Har. (Interrupting. ) Never mind about telhng anything, unless you 
 want a taste of this. (Taps whip signijicantly.) Look alive now, and 
 start the fun. 
 
 Exit Harley, l. u. e. 
 
 Plantation business, songs, dances, banjo bu^., walk around, etc., varied 
 to suit the capabilities of the performers. When it commences, Helen and 
 Mildred enter from hou^e and sit on steps. 
 
 Dan. (At close.) Now, you niggers, 'have yourselves, and gird up 
 your lines and lissen, for I'se gwine to say somfin fo' yer. (To Helen.) 
 Mis' Helen, dey say you's gwine away from here right soon.^ 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 7 
 
 Hel. Yes, Uncle Dan, I am going home. 
 
 Dan. {To darkies, who begin crying. ) Hush you brack trash, an' don't 
 shame de missus. [To Helen.) You's bin good to us, Mis' Helen, and 
 it makes de darkies feel pow'ful bad to see you go. It does indeed. 
 
 Chorus of darkies. 'Deed it does — 'deed it does. 
 
 Dan. (To darkies). Hole yer tongue, or I'll pulverize yer, I will, 
 suah. (To Helen.) Dere's nobody left to say a kind word to de poor 
 ole slave, but we'll nebber forget de sweet face, an if de darkies' prayers 
 is any 'count up yonder, de good Lord'll watch ober and preserbe you, 
 Mis' Helen, for ebber and ebber, amen. 
 
 Other darkies. 'Deed he will, missus. 
 
 Dan. Shut up. Be quiet now, for she's gwine to say somfin. 
 
 Hel. Thank you. Uncle Dan, and thank you all. I, too, will not 
 forget to pray that you may be happier some day, poor slaves. And now 
 good bye, and Heaven bless you all. 
 
 Exeunt Dan and negroes, l. u. e. 
 Mildred and Helen come on stage. 
 
 Mil. They appear much attached to you, Helen, and I really lelieve 
 they have some feeling. But then you know you have always noticed 
 them a great deal, and taught some of the children to read. I wouldn't 
 take the trouble. 
 
 Hel. We have been brought up to think differently, Mildred, I be- 
 lieve I have merely done my duty to fellow creatures in misfortune. 
 
 Mil. Misfortune ! "^They are better off than half the poor whites. 
 They ought to be grateful to us for keeping them in comfort and reliev- 
 ing them of all care and trouble. 
 
 Hel. But they are slaves, Mildred, and what greater misfortune could 
 befall them ! However, that is not for us to discuss at this time. I 
 must write a letter to aunt and tell her I am coming. 
 
 Mil. Very well. I will sit out here and read while you are writing. 
 (Sits at table R. and begins reading.) 
 
 Enter Harley, l. u. e. Music. 
 
 Har. I must speak to her now, for I may not have another chance. 
 There sits the only woman whose smiles I care to see ; and yet I am 
 afraid to look into her face lest I drive them away. But I must have an 
 answer this day, yes or no. (Advances.) Good morning. Miss Buford. 
 
 Mil. (Looking up. ) Ah, is that you, Mr. Harley ? Good morning. 
 
 Har. I am not disturbing your reading ? 
 
 Mil. Oh no, not at all. 
 
 Har. May I ask what you are reading^? 
 
 Mil. Only a novel. 
 
 Har. Full of love and trouble and a happy ending, I suppose ? 
 
 Mil. Yes, they are all like that, I believe. 
 
 Har. Miss Buford, I have been reading a book like that for months. 
 It is full of love, of passion, doubt and uncertainty. The last chapter 
 alone remains, and I do not know whether the end will be happiness or 
 misery. I fear to turn the leaves. 
 
 Mil. (Looking up in surprise.) You seem to take much interest in 
 your reading. Pray what is the book ? But never mind — it is nothing 
 to me. 
 
8 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Har. (Coming nearer.) Yet you may read it, if you will. That book 
 is my heart. It's pages contain but one word — your name. Mildred, I 
 love you as man never loved woman before. 
 
 Mil. (Rising haughtily.) Sir, I do not understand this. 
 Har. You must, you shall hear me. I have come to tell you this, 
 and I must know my answer. I offer you my hand and all I have ; my 
 heart is yours already. Shall the end of my life's romance be a happy 
 one, or shall I close the book in despair and hopeless misery ? 
 
 Mil. This is insolence, sir. You forget what you are and who I am. 
 Har. Yes, I have forgotten all, except that I love you. 
 Mil. I have not so far forgotten myself as to bestow a thought on 
 such as you. Oblige me by returning to your gentlemanly occupation of 
 cracking that whip over the field hands. Go sir, and never dare to ad- 
 dress me again. 
 
 Har- (Changing his manner.) You scorn me! You are too proud 
 to even look upon me, are you ? Because I occupy the position of an 
 overseer, am I any less a man than the useless, lazy coxcombs who talk 
 soft nonsense in your drawing-room ? You taunt me, sneer at me, but 
 take care that the time does not come when you will be glad to have 
 Dick Harley for your friend. (She turns away disdainfully.) You turn 
 away from me in disdain, but you shall listen to me. I have told you 
 that I love you. I meant it. I have thrown myself at your feet, but 
 you spurn me as you would one of your slaves, and treat my love with 
 contempt. 
 
 Mil. (Aside.) How long is this infliction to last ? 
 Ha7\ You spurn me, I say. Perhaps you would prefer some soft- 
 headed dandy that calls himself a gentleman because he never had to 
 work, thanks to his father's money. 
 
 Mil. ( Turning. ) Are you never going to stop ? 
 
 Har. I shall not stop. I have waited for this time too long. Oh, 
 curl your pretty lips all you please ; it only makes you look handsomer 
 and tempts me the more. I say you shall not cast my love aside for 
 any white-faced parlor knight. And what's more, I'm not to be balked 
 by a woman's whims. (She turns her hack to him.) Will you listen to 
 me, girl ? I love you and I must have your consent. 
 
 Mil. (Facing him. ) You call yourself a man and offer such insults as 
 these to a woman. I was scarcely aware that you existed before, but 
 your very insolence and the intolerable hatefulness of your presence have 
 forced you upon my notice. I have listened to you because I could not 
 find words to express my utter contempt for you and your brutish love. 
 I despise you, not because you are an overseer, for a brave and honest 
 man might be in that position. 'Tis not the occupation that degrades 
 the man, but such men as you that make the occupation hateful, and 
 lower than the slave who cowers beneath your brutal lash. Your admir- 
 ation is an insult that brings the blush of indignation to a woman's face. 
 Your friendship would be a disgrace and your enmity beneath notice, for 
 your threats prove you to be a coward ! 
 
 Har, (Bursting with rage. ) By heavens, my lady 
 
 Mil. (Interrupting.) Another word, sir, and you shall be whipped 
 off the place by the negroes. Stand aside ! (Harley steps hack,) 
 
 Exit Mil. into house, l. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 9 
 
 Har. (l. Looking toward house and shaking hl^ fist.) So, she never 
 noticed me before, eh ? I am hateful and a coward, my love an insult ! 
 Curse her pride ! She'll sin^ another tune some day for this. No wo- 
 man can treat Dick Harley like a dog, refuse his love and forget it as a 
 matter of no consequence. My fine lady would have me whipped by the 
 niggers, eh ? Curse 'em, I'd like to get hold of one now and ease my 
 mind a bit. {Crosses to 'R.) • 
 
 Enter Dan, l. u. e. 
 
 Har. {Ad'vanchig towards him.) What are you doing here, you black 
 scoundrel ? 
 
 Dan. Nuflin' 'tall, Mas' Harley — jes goin' to de house to tote some 
 things for Mis' Helen. 
 
 Har. You lie, you snivelling old hypocrite. Come here ! 
 
 Dan. {Approaching in fear. ) Fore de Lord, I'se tellin' what's de fac'. 
 
 Har. You've been prowling around watching me, curse your hide. 
 That Yankee schoolmarm's been putting you up to it, and this isn't the 
 first time, either. I'll teach you to play the spy, {Strikes Dan with 
 fi-hip. ) How does that feel ? 
 
 Dan. {Falling on his knees. ) Don't Mas' Harley. I neber been v/atch- 
 in' nobody. Dese po' old eyes ain't much used to spyin', and Mis' Helen 
 wouldn't ax nobody to do any ting low down like dat. 
 
 Har. Both of you are low down enough for anything, with all your 
 pious preaching and canting humility. I'll just take some of that non- 
 sense out of you, anyway. {Strikes Dan several blows, ) Why don't you 
 howl, curse you ? Music, continuing Hill fall of curtain. 
 
 Dan. May de Lord forgib him, as de ole slave does. 
 
 Har. Some more of your hypocrisy. I'll see what you are made of, 
 you black Judas. {Knocks him down and raises butt of whip over his head. ) 
 
 Enter Helen /rom house. 
 
 Helen. {Springing forward. ) You coward ! (Harley starts bach — 
 Dan rises to his knees and seizes Helen's hand. Tableau. ) 
 
 Light fires, draw flats and show. 
 
 TABLEAU, ''THE DREAM OF LIBERTY." 
 
 Slow curtain. 
 
 end OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
10 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene I. Sitting roovi in Mrs. BushnelVs house; old fashioned pictures 
 on tvalls ; table, R. c, chairs, etc. M grooves. 
 
 Discover Melissa, dusting. 
 
 Melissa. Where is that lazy, good-for-nothing Caleb, I wonder? He's 
 enough to try the patience of a saint. I declare to goodness, I never 
 saw his match in all mj^ born days. Here Mrs. Bushnell has been wait- 
 ing for over an hour for the mail, and no sign of the creature yet. Well, 
 I'm truly thankful I'm not in her place. If I were, I'd make him walk 
 a chalk line, or I'd know the reason why. The Lord deliver me from 
 such a shiftless, no-account man. 
 
 Bnter Caleb Dow, r. d. in r. 
 
 Well, here you are at last. [Contemptiiously.) Aint you tirecl? Do 
 sit down, you poor, overworked creature. 
 
 Caleb. Yes, I am tired. I — I am not well. I feel awful bad, M'liss, 
 as sure as butter is grass. 
 
 Mel. Aint you ashamed of yourself? Tell the truth and shame your 
 master. Aint you ashamed? Come now? 
 
 Cal. Ashamed ! Why, what should I feel ashamed of? 
 
 Mel. (Angrily.) That's it — that's it. There's no shame in you. 
 You're as thick skinned as a hipponoceras, and you have no more sense 
 than a yearling heifer. Did you bring a letter? 
 
 Cal. See here, M'liss, just drop that hifalutin style o' youm, and 
 come down to straight, matter of fact business. You warn't cut out for 
 a high-strung dame, no how you can fix it. Now what in all cteation, 
 is a hipponoceras ? 
 
 Mel. I'll hipponoceras you, if you don't answer me. Did you get a 
 letter? 
 
 Cal. [Grinning.) Wall, as to that, I calkerlate I did, and it's from 
 Helen Marsh, as sure as preachin'. 
 
 Mel. Give it to me. 
 
 Cal. Give it to you? Aint you puttin' on more airs than the law al- 
 lows? I'll give it to Mrs. Bushnell, that's what I'll do, Miss Melissy 
 Jane Barnes. 
 
 Mel. C^aleb Dow, you deserve a walloping, and a ducking in the frog 
 pond, to boot, for your contrariness. Give me that letter ! 
 
 Cal. And if I do, will you give me — will you — 
 
 Mel. Well, out with it. 
 
 Cal. [Advancing.) Will you give me — a smack? 
 
 Mel. Hey! [Then changing her manner, as if struck by a sudden 
 thought.) Law sakes alive, what impudence! The idea! [Demurely.) 
 Well, Caleb, mebbe I will. 
 
 Cal. [Hands letter. ) Now let's have it, good and loud. [Leans for- 
 ward and gets his ears boxed. ^ 
 
 Mel. There's a smack for you. Is it loud enough? Now get you 
 gone. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 11 
 
 Mrs. Bushnell. (Outside.) Melissa ! are you there? 
 Mel. Yes ma'am. ( To Culah. ) Now clear out ; make yourself scarce. 
 Cal. {Retreating.) All right, Miss smartness. I'll settle v\-ith you 
 after a while, see if I don't. 
 
 Mel. And I'll settle you now, if you don't go. 
 
 Exit Cal. r. d. f. 
 Enter Mrs. Bushnell, l. 2 e. 
 
 Mrs. B. Melissa, was that Caleb, who just left you ? 
 
 Mel. Yes, ma'am, and here's a letter — the one you were expecting, I 
 guess. [Hands letter.) 
 
 Mrs. B. ( Tahing it. ) Yes, it's from Helen, and is postmarked, * 'Fair- 
 view, Virginia." [Opens and reads.) She is coming home, is even now 
 on her way. This is good news, indeed ! 
 
 Enter John Bushnell, r. 2 e. 
 
 John, [Coming dotvn c.) What's the good news, mother ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Your cousin, Helen Marsh, is coming home. She writes 
 that troublous times are threatened, and that sectional feeling is so 
 strong there, she dare not remain longer. 
 
 John. Yes, there will be war between the North and South. It is 
 inevitable. Every day I expect to hear that those hot-heads in South 
 Carolina have taken the initiative. So she is coming. That is good 
 news, surely. 
 
 Mel. Please ma'am, shall I tell Caleb to stay and help me with the 
 churning ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes. 
 
 Exit Melissa, l. d. f. 
 
 Mrs, B. The dear girl! How I long to see her. It seems an age 
 since she left us, and yet it is only three years. 
 
 John. And I long to see her, too. [Earnestly. ) Mother, you must 
 have guessed my secret; you must have seen what I have but feebly 
 tried to conceal. At any rate, now that she will soon be here, I will no 
 longer remain silent. I love her, mother — I have loved her ever since 
 she was a child. When we were playmates together, I felt for her an 
 affection far beyond my years. It has strengthened with the lapse of 
 time, and now I know that the earth holds no tieasure, sweeter or more 
 precious to me, than the love of Helen Marsh. 
 
 Mrs. B. John, my dear son, I ho.ve suspected this, and it has not 
 given me pain. It was the dearest wish of her mother, before she died, 
 that Helen should one day become your wife. Nothing, indeed, would 
 please me more than such a consummation. But, are you certain that 
 she loves you in return ! How do you know that she has not bestowed 
 her heart upon another ? It is a long time since you last saw her, and 
 she has met with many men — some of them young and fascinating, 
 doubtless — during that period. Do you think she has remembered you, 
 in the way you desire, all these years ? 
 
 John, I do not knoiv^ of course ; but yet in my inmost soul, I believe 
 she has neither forgotten my feelings towards her, nor changed in the 
 regard she was wont to show me. No, mother, I would stake my life 
 on her fealty. When did she leave Fairview ? 
 
 Mrs. B. [Looking at letter, ) On Wednesday. 
 
 John. And this is Saturday. Mother, she will arrive — to-day ! 
 
12 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Mrs. B. So she will, if nothing happens. I had not thought of that 
 Enter Silas Winslow, k, d. f. 
 
 Silas. (Speakirtg in a slow, drawling .^ii/Ie. ) Mis' Biishnell ! 
 
 31 rs. B. (Turning.) Ah, is that you, Sihxs. What is it. 
 
 Sil. ■ Air you expectin' anybody ? 
 
 John. (Eagerly.) Yes. m^ 
 
 Sil. And you want to see 'em mighty bad, so to speak ? 
 
 John. Yes — jes. 
 
 Sil. Wall, I thought yer did, from yer actions. So I allowed. 
 
 John. What news have you for us, Uncle Silas ? Don't keep us in 
 suspense. 
 
 Sil. H'm. Wall, as I was passin' by, I thought yer might ]>e in ii 
 pucker about it, not calkerlatin 
 
 John. Uncle Si, do come to the point, won't you ? 
 
 Sil. Wall, you air pesky anxious, and that's a fact. There was a 
 time 
 
 Mrs. B. (Interrupting.) Never mind that story, now, Silas, but tell 
 us what you know, and at once. 
 
 Sil. You alius was an impatient sort of a critter, Melindy, and there 
 ain't no sort o' use in beating around the bush with you. So I alius 
 allowed. 
 
 John. Uncle Silas, do tell us what you know without more ado, 
 won't you ? 
 
 Sil. Moore Adoo ! Who was he, John ? 
 
 John. ( WrathfaUy.) He had a fool for an uncle. 
 
 Mrs. B. (Reprovingly.) My son ! 
 
 Sil. Let him alone, Melindy ; he don't mean any harm. I know what 
 he's put out about — it's as plain as the nose on your face. Now I'll teiJ 
 you what I drapped in for. As I was sayin', you was expectin' some- 
 body 
 
 John. (Interrupting.) Yes. 
 
 Sil. And as somebody was expectin' as how you would not be 
 expectin' — (suddenly) — John, I want to tell you before I forgit it. That 
 sorrel mare o' yourn has got the glanders, or I'm a sinner. 
 Enter Helen Marsh, r. d. f. — Music. 
 
 John. Hang the mare ! Somebody was expecting 
 
 Helen, (Coming forivard.) Expecting a somewhat different reception. 
 Is that what you mean ? 
 
 Ms, B. (Rushing forward.) Helen! 
 
 Hel. My dear aunt? (They embrace.) Cousin John, how do you 
 do ? I am real glad to see you. (Offers hand — John takes it shyly.) 
 
 John. And I — I am 
 
 Hel. I know. (Gives him a kiss.) There, now ! 
 
 Mrs. B. We were not expecting you so soon. John would have been 
 at the depot, had we known of your coming. 
 
 Hel. So I took you by surprise, eh ? I didn't intend to do that, for 
 I met Uncle Silas on the way, and asked him to run on ahead and let 
 you know of my coming. 
 
 John. And not a word did he tell us. 
 
 Sil. All because you would keep interruptin' me. But it's all right 
 now, ain't it, John ? 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 13 
 
 John. Yes, I forgive you. 
 
 Sil. [At R. D. F. ) I'll give 'em a chpvnce, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Exit Pv. D. F. 
 
 Helen in the meantime, has, assisted htj Mrs. Bushnell, taken off her ivraps. 
 
 Hel. Oil, before I tell you anything, or answer a single question, I 
 want to ask you. Have you heard the news ? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, we have heard nothing out of the way, lately. What 
 do you refer to ? 
 
 //(?/. The war ! I heard about it, coming on the train. Fort Sumter 
 has been tired on, and President Lincoln has called for 75,000 volunteers. 
 
 John. [Exeltedly,) Is this true ? 
 
 Hel. Yes. It is now in everybody's mouth. 
 
 John. I expected it, but hardly so soon. Mother, I have a duty to 
 perforin. I must go. 
 
 Mrs. B. Go, my son. You do not mean 
 
 John. {Interniptmg.) Yes. The Union is in danger, and strong 
 arms and loyal hearts are required in its defence. I am young, strong, 
 and I love the old flag with a reverence and devotion that permeates 
 every fibre of my being. You know how strong and dear to me are the 
 ties of home and kindred ; but now there is an instinct, a power that 
 impels me to forsake them all. You must understand this feeling, 
 mother ; you must feel with me, that in a crisis like the present, a man 
 must either be a patriot or a traitor ! The President has asked for my 
 assistance, and I must go. 
 
 J/r.b\ B. And leave us now? It is hard, very hard, but — you are 
 right, my son. I shall not attempt to dissuade you. Your father died 
 lighting under the Star Spangled Banner, and though it wrings my heart 
 to say it, I would rather see you dead, than disgrace his memory. 
 
 Hel. As you say, aunt, he is right. You need his support, his 
 assistance and his love. I, too, had pictured many happy hours in his 
 society, and I — I {Her voice falters.) 
 
 John. Helen, I want to ask you a question. This is a supreme 
 moment in my existence, and if I thought, if I only dared to hope 
 
 Hel Well? 
 
 John. [Seizing her hand.) If I thought you loved me, I could go 
 forth to battle without a care upon my soul. With your love as a 
 guerdon, I could brave any danger ; I could undergo any privation 
 uncomplainingly. Your love would have a potency that even death itself 
 could not impair. 
 
 Hel. And I do love you, John. I have always loved you. 
 
 John. Bless you for those words. 
 
 2Irs. B. My dear children ! May heaven watch over and protect you 
 l)oth. 
 
 Scene changes to 
 
 Scene 2. Street, 1st grooves. 
 
 Enter Silas Winslow, l. 1 e. 
 
 Sil. I'm going to do it. I'm too old, the young ones say, but I know 
 better. 'Pears to me these youngsters will want an old man or two 
 
14 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 along witli 'em, to teach 'em sense. What do they know about shootin' 
 and militaiy tactics? Not enough to last 'em over night, or I'm a sinner. 
 There was a time, in the Mexican war, when there Avasn't a man in the 
 whol' regiment that knew as much about soldierin' as Si Winslow^, and 
 I do allow I hain't forgot all I knew, by a darned sight. 
 
 Enter John Bushnell, l. 1 e. 
 
 Hullo, John, where air you pointin' to ? 
 
 John. I am going to the recruiting othce. 
 
 Sil. To enlist? 
 
 John. Yes, to enlist. By the way, who will stay at home and look 
 after the women folks ? 
 
 Sil. That's a hard question, John, All the youngsters air goin', as 
 nigh as I can tigger, 'cept Oscar Girard, 
 
 John. Oscar Girard? Why, he can go as well as not. It isn't possible 
 that he has shown the white feather ? 
 
 Sil. Wall, I don't know. Only he says he won't go, and you can't 
 budge him an inch. There was a time 
 
 John. {Interruptinx/. ) Never mind about it, now, Uncle Si. I wonder 
 what has come over Oscar? He avoids me lately, and yet I ha,ve done 
 nothing to incur his dislike or ill-will. He used to be one of the most 
 promisino' young men in tov^ii. I always liked him, for he had a good 
 heart and generous instincts. But he has changed greatly and for the 
 worse. 
 
 Sil. Something wrong in the upper story, I calkerlate. But I have 
 an idee what has changed him, what has made him so reckless and good- 
 for-nothing, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 John. What is your opinion ? 
 
 Sil. Some gal has given him the mitten. That's where the shoe 
 pinches. 
 
 John. You may be right ; I know nothing about it. But I must be 
 going. Poor Oscar ! What a pity he has turned out so ! 
 
 ^^7. Yaas, I seen him last night as tight as a biled owl. I allow he's 
 pretty much played out. 
 
 John. Well, I must hasten. (Starts. ) 
 
 Sil. I'll go with you. I've got business at the recruiting office, too. 
 or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Exeunt R. 1 E. 
 Enter Oscar Girard, l. 1 e. Music. 
 
 Oscar. There he goes — the man who has won what I have lost. She 
 threw me over for him. But for John Bushnell, to-day Helen Marsh 
 would be my affianced wife; perhaps my wife in fact. He knew I 
 thought the world of her — he m^ust have known it — yet what did he do ? 
 Step out of the ring like a man, and leave the track clear for me? No. 
 He deliberately went to work and undermined my position — cut me out. 
 That was three years ago. I have gone through a great deal in that 
 time. (Sarcastically. ) I have fallen from my high estate, they tell me. 
 To-day John Bushnell walks with his head in the air, and Helen Marsh 
 is engaged to him. To-day I am a worthless, drunken vagabond, 
 shunned and despised by those who used to call themselves my friends. 
 (Fiercely.) But I'll be even with him! The time will come, and the 
 <levil speed the day, when I can pay him back with interest. He's 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. L5 
 
 iroing to enlist and tight for the Union. So won't I. What, espouse 
 tlie same cause he fights for ! Never ! Wittingly, or unwittingly, he 
 has ruined my life, and he shall suffer for it. And yet, while I hate 
 him, how I love her ! How I always shall love her ! Why I could die 
 for her willingly — I could die for her ! 
 
 Exit R. 1 E. 
 
 Scene 8. Street. Jfth grooves. Recruiting office, R. 3 e. Soldier on 
 guard. Fife and drum playing in front. 
 
 Enter Capt. Armstrong and John Bushnell, uniformed, from office. 
 
 Capt. John, you are one of us, now, and I am glad of it. If you want 
 a lieutenancy, I think I can arrange it. 
 
 John. No, thank you. I shall win my spurs before I wear them. 
 
 Capt. Nonsense. You are intelligent, well read, have a fine military 
 bearing, and will fill the bill to a nicety. 
 
 John. You flatter me ; but I have made up my mind. I shall go in 
 as a private soldier. 
 
 Capt. All right, suit yourself. You'll mount the ladder, though, 
 mark my words. 
 
 Join}. When do we start. Captain? 
 
 Capt. I don't know. We may receive orders to leave at any moment. 
 The company is nearly full — only three more volunteers are wanted. 
 Enter Silas Winslow and Oscar Girard, l. u. e. Oscar comes doivn l. c. 
 
 Sil. Here's one for you, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Capt. What, Uncle Si, you don't mean that you want to enlist ? 
 
 Sil. That's the size of it. I fought under the old flag once, and I 
 want to do it again. In fact. Squire, I am constitutionally and teetota- 
 shusly opposed to stayin' at home when there's fightin' to be done. And 
 now that the Union is in danger, and volunteers are wanted, by the 
 limping Jehosaphat, I'm not going to be counted out. Them's my senti- 
 ments, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Capt. But you are too old. 
 
 Sil. No, I ain't. I am as strong and active as a young kitten, and I 
 know I can pass muster. So you jest nat'rally swear me in, or there'll 
 be trouble. 
 
 Capt. Well, I don't know 
 
 Sil. Wall, I know, and there's an end on't. So you come along with 
 me. ( Takes Capt. by the arm and marches him into the office. ) 
 
 John. [To Oscar.) Are you going to remain behind, Oscar? 
 
 Os. (Sullenly. ) What's that to you ? 
 
 John. {Quietly. ) Nothing, I heard so, that's all. 
 
 Os. (Roughly.) Well, I'd thank you to mind your own business. 
 
 John, (Gently.) What's the matter, Oscar? What have I done to 
 offend you. You are as rough and surly as a bear. 
 
 Os. (Passionately.) What have you done? Ha! Ha! (Laughs 
 f/nldly.) That's good. That was excellently said. What have you not 
 done ? You know as well as I. 
 
 John. (Calmly. ) I don't understand you at all. Have I ever wronged 
 you in word or deed ? If so, I am unconscious of the fact. 
 
16 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Os. [Fiercely.) Look here, John Buslmell, equivocation won't do. 
 Don't play the hypocrite, and above all don't rouse the devil that's in 
 me. I've tried to forget what I owe to your duplicity ; I've tried to 
 forget that you ever stepped between us ; that you, with j^our soft 
 speeches and cunning wiles, estranged the only woman I ever loved. 
 
 John. {Warmly.) Great heavens, Oscar I I never dreamed that you 
 had bestowed a thought on her. Your mjnd is distraught — you know 
 not what you are saying. I am entirely blameless, believe me. 
 
 Os. I do not believe you. If you say you never thought I cared for 
 her, that you never suspected that I desired to win her, then you lie I 
 
 John. What ! 
 
 Os. {Furiously. ) You lie, coward that you are ! 
 
 John, {hwpetuously.) That is more than I can tamely submit to. 
 Kecall your words, Oscar Girard, or, by heaven, I will teach you the 
 lesson you deserve. 
 
 06'. {Sneeringly.) Will you ? Then I will give you {.suddenly) a taste 
 of this ! {Draws knife. Music.) 
 
 John. Oscar Girard, what do you mean ? 
 
 Os. I mean that I have nothing worth living for. I mean that the 
 end might as well come now as ever. {Advances.) 
 
 Enter Helen, l. u. e. 
 
 Hel. {Shrieks.) Oscar ! Oscar ! What would you do? 
 
 06'. [Loivers knife.) Helen! Here! My God ! 
 
 Hel. John, what has happened ? You have had no quarrel ! 
 
 John. I am almost as much in the dark as you are. Mr. Girard's 
 imagination has conjured up improbable shapes, that is all. 
 
 Hel. {Going to Oscar.) Oscar, I don't understand anything about 
 this matter, and I will not ask for an explanation now. If you ever 
 cared for me put up that knife and go away. 
 
 Os. { With emotion.) Care for you ? If you only knew — if you only 
 knew ! 
 
 Hel. Then act sensibly. You are capable of better things. W^hen I 
 remember what you once was, my heart is filled with sorrow. Do try 
 and make a man of yourself. Try, for my sake. 
 
 Os. For your sake ? Yes, for your sake, I will spare him now. But 
 let him look out hereafter. 
 
 Exit L. 2 E. 
 
 John. You should not have wasted so much time there, Helen, He 
 isn't worth it. Whj^, he had the audacity to assert that if it had* not 
 been for me you would have married him. 
 
 Hel. Poor fellow ! He was in love with me, though I never gave 
 him any encouragement. I am really sorry for him. 
 
 John. I do not wonder at his falling in love with you. That is easily 
 accounted for. 
 
 Hel. John, don't flatter. 
 
 Johii. I never flatter when I speak the truth. 
 
 Exeunt R. 2 e. 
 
 {The d7'nm and fife begin playing and Sergeant Jones comes out of office.) 
 
 Serg. Right this way, gentlemen. Here's your only chance. Only 
 two men wanted to complete the quota. Who will be the first to speak ? 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 17 
 
 Enter Melissa, dragging Caleb, l. u. e. 
 
 Cal. [Drawing back. ) I tell you I won't, and there's an end on it. I 
 won't, I won't, I won't. 
 
 Mel. [Holding him.) And I say you will, you will, you will. 
 Enter Silas Winslow, uniformed, from office. 
 
 Sil. That's right, Melissa. Make him toe the mark ; hold him right 
 down to it. 
 
 Serg. [In front of office ^.) Kight this way, Mr. Dow. 
 
 Cal. [Struggling loith Melissa. ) No, you don't. I tell you, I won't 
 enlist. 
 
 Mel. [Severely.) And I say you will. Sakes alive, what are you 
 good for ? 
 
 Gal. Wall, then, if I'm good-for-nothing, I won't make a good soldier. 
 
 Sil. Wrong, young man. It's jist because you ain't fit for anything 
 else that you'll make a first-class fighting man, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Mel. There, now, what did I tell you ? 
 
 Cal. I — I — I don't want to. I — I am afraid. 
 
 Mel. [Contemptuously.) Afraid, yoii white-livered sneak ! I always 
 knew you was no great shakes, no how, but I did think you might spunk 
 up a little courage in a time like this. 
 
 Cal. [ Whining. ) You are too hard on me, M'liss ; you are, as sure as 
 you are born. I am afraid because I ain't well, and — and — I know I 
 couldn't stand it. 
 
 Sil, Couldn't stand it ! You git out. Why, you are a full grown 
 able-bodied youngster, and there's nothing the matter with you undsr 
 the sun, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Serg. Come out here, and let's have a good square look at you. 
 Melissa pushes Cai.y.b forward. 
 
 Sil. (Examining him. He's as sound as a nut. 
 
 Cal. [Despairingly. ) I ain't. I've got the palpitation of the heart. 
 
 Mel. Palpitation fiddlesticks ! You are frightened out of your wits ; 
 that's what ails you. 
 
 Sej-g. But that won't make any difference. Military serdce, you 
 know, is considered a sure cure for this disease. 
 
 Sil. [Ptmching Caleb. ) How does that stick in your gizzard, young 'un ? 
 
 Cal. Desperately. You can't have me. I've got the — the 
 
 Sil. The what ? Spit it right out, and you'll feel easier. 
 
 Cal. I've got the dandruff? [All burst out laughing.) 
 
 Serg. I'm glad to hear it. I'd kick a man out of the company that 
 didn't have it. 
 
 Cal. Wall, if you want to know then, I've got — the itch ! (Sergeant 
 and Silas take their hands off him and move away. ) 
 
 Mel. Don't you believe him. He has been cured of it for three 
 months to my certain knowledge. 
 Sil. I'm tickled, or I'm a sinner. 
 Serg. So am I, and you'd better believe it. 
 
 Mel. Caleb Dow, I'll give you one more chance. You are an ordinary 
 creature, if the truth is strelclied. You ain't worth your weight in 
 turnips, but if you'll march in there [pointing to office) and join tlie com- 
 pany, I'll marry you when you come back. 
 Cal. [Eagerly. ) Will you, honestly ? 
 
20 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Har. [Aside.) Curse the Yankee mudsill. He talks like an idiot, 
 but he's not such a fool after all. I'm in for it, now. (7^o Oal.) 
 Never mind the Sergeant, my good fellow. I can prove that I'm all 
 right. See, here's a paper, ( Takes paper from pocket, ) signed by one 
 of the best Union men in this part of Virginia, saying that I'm a friend 
 to the North. That's good enough proof, isn't it ? 
 
 Cal. Let's take a squint at that air dockyment. Put it on the bag- 
 gernet express again. (Harley sticks paper on bayonet and Caleb dixi^vs 
 it in, keeping an eye on Harley. Caleb holds gun under left arm icith 
 bayonet toivards Harley a7id reads, evidently ivith difficidty. ) 
 
 Cal. You say this man is Union, hey ? 
 
 Har. Of course he is. Had to run away from home, or the rebs 
 would have hung him. {Aside.) Iliad the rope ready myself for the 
 cursed abolitionist. 
 
 Gal. {Looking alai^med.) Lord sakes, you don't mean to say the rebs 
 hang folks ! How did he get away ? 
 
 Har, Took to the woods. {Impatiently.) Is the paper all right ? 
 
 Cal. Wall, I don't jest know. How old is this chap ? 
 
 Har. How old ? About 45, I reckon. 
 
 Cal. Got any folks in the deestrict ? 
 
 Har. That's a mighty queer question. I think they are all up North. 
 
 Cal. {With interest.) Now you don't say. Mebbe I know 'em. There 
 used to be a family named Brown over in Podunk on the Belltown turn- 
 pike. P'raps they're related. Melissa's aunt's cousin married S'eth 
 Johnson, and I've hearn tell how Seth was a distant connection of Deacon 
 Richards. The deacon lived on the old Watson farm, where the big red 
 barn sets out clos't to the road with a blue rooster on top 
 
 Har. {Interrupting with suppressed impatience.) Oh, never mind 
 about that. We'll talk about Brown's folks some other time. 
 
 Cal. Oh, I ain't got nothin' else to do. You don't bother me a bit, 
 and I kinder like to find somebody that's acquainted around home, gosh 
 darn if I ain't. What sort of a complected man did you say Brown 
 was ? If he's sandy complected and has got the Brown mouth, sorter 
 twisted to one side, like this {makes a hor^^ible face), I calkilate I know 
 some of his folks. 
 
 Har. Yes, that's the man. You know ^him and all his relations ? 
 I'm right glad to meet an old friend among your people. We'll talk 
 about Squeedunk to-night in camp. 
 
 Cal. Podunk, Podunk, not Squeedunk. Squeedunk's way down 
 East in the woods. Squire Henry used to be Jedge down there and 
 
 Har. Well, I must be going. {Starts. ) 
 
 Cal. {Stopping him.) Wait and you'll have company. Here comes 
 the relief. 
 
 Enter Sergeant Si Winslow with four soldiers, r. 1 e. 
 
 Cal. Hpllo, Uncle Si, is that you ? 
 
 Si. Is that the way you halt a man ? I told you to stop everybody 
 and demand the countersign, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Ccd. I'll be goldarned if I didn't forgit. But I 'sposed it was all right 
 with you. 
 
 Si. Wall, remember next time, and don't you forget it. Anybody 
 that comes along, don't matter if it's the Gen'l himself, has got to trot 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 21 
 
 out the countersign 'fore he can pass. So I allow. ( Turns to Harley. ) 
 Who's this critter ? 
 
 Har. I've just escaped from a rebel foraging party down the road. 
 I'm a Union man, and I want to be protected. 
 
 Si. 'Pears to me there's a tarnation lot of you critters jest escaped. 
 Got any deadfy weapons stowed aw^ay in your duds. (Sear dies Harley 
 and finds pistol. ) 'Cordin' to the articles of war sech fixin's as this air 
 contraband. Now, stranger, jest git into line and walk up to the 
 Captain's office. (Caleb gives the countersign and order of the day to 
 Private Sloan.) 
 
 Si. ( To Caleb. ) You're relieved. (Caleb falls in. Military bus. ) 
 Fall in ! Forward march ! (Music. ) 
 
 Scene changes to 
 
 Scene 2. Union camp in the tooods. 3d grooves. SoldJ.ers lying down., 
 John Bushnell, Si Winslow and Caleb Dow among them. 
 Enter Capt. Arnold, officer of the day, r. 2 e. 
 
 Capt. Sergeant Winslow ! 
 
 Si. (Bises and salutes. ) Here, sir. 
 
 Capt. You brought a man in from the outposts. Where is he ? 
 
 Si. Jest about so, I aliow\ We did sorter rake in a critter that w^as 
 sneakin' about like a polecat round a hen roost. He's in the guard tent, 
 musin' on the fortunes of war and a straw bed. 
 
 Capt. Bring him here, Sergeant. 
 
 Si. All right, Captain. 
 
 Exit l. 2. E. 
 Caleb iii group of soldiers ; Caleb serious, others laughing. 
 
 Cal. It is dangerous out on picket, and I'll be snummed if I think 
 they orter send a fellow out alone. Some day a reb will come along and 
 shoot somebody, and if it's me, Melissy Barnes will be tarnation sorry 
 she ever pestered me into goin' to war. 
 
 John. But you musn't let the rebel shoot you. 
 
 Cal. Mebbe he wouldn't stop, if I asked him not to shoot ; and then 
 if I cut and run for home, they say I'd be shot by my own side. What 
 can a fellow do ? (A II laugh. ) 
 Enter Winslow and Harley, l. 2 e. Winslow salutes and steps back. 
 
 Capt. (To Har.) Your name, sir. 
 
 Har. Robert Wilson. I live below Fairview, but the rebs have 
 taken all my stock, and if I hadn't cleared out last night, they'd have 
 made me enlist, or strung me up. 
 
 Capt. Do you want to go North ? 
 
 Har. No sir. I want to stay inside your lines until the Confederate 
 troops leave this part of the country, and then go back to my farm. 
 
 Capt. Do you know anything about the strength and movements of 
 the rebel forces in front of us ? ^ 
 
 Har. Very little. I've taken mighty good care to keep as far awj^ 
 from them as possible. I might help you some, though. 
 
 Capt. Well, you wdll remain under guard until the Colonel can talk 
 
22 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 to you. Sergeant, take this man back to the quarters. Treat him well 
 but keep a guard over him. 
 
 Exit R. 2 E. 
 Si. All right, Captain. (J'o Har.) Come along, Squire. 
 
 Exeunt l. 2 e. 
 Enter soldier ivith mail. c 
 
 Sol. Here boys. News from home. {All spring up and crowd around 
 him and. receive letters, then scatter about and read. Caleb gets letter and 
 opens it ; John Bushnell ditto. John goes out, R. 2 e. ) 
 
 Re-enter Si Winslow, l. 2 e. 
 
 Si. Hello, Caleb, got a letter from Melissy ? 
 
 Cal. [Coming down front.) Git out. Uncle Si. [Tries to conceal letter.) 
 
 Si. Oh, trot it out, sonny. If there's any big bookshunary words, 
 jes' let 'em drive full chisel at me, and I'll tackle em for ye. Mebbe I'm 
 old and sorter shaky, but I've spelt down the doctor in the little red 
 skule house, and I allow Melissy can't stagger me, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Cal. Can't you let a feller alone. Uncle Si. I never see such a hectorin' 
 critter as you be in all my life. 
 
 Si. Caleb, read that lovin' epistle, now do. You might not git 
 anotlier chance, if there happened to be a scrimmage. So I guess. 
 
 Cal. {Alarrned.) You don't think they're going to %ht, do ye? 
 Why can't they put it off till mornin' ? I b'lieve I'm going to be sick. 
 I feel awful bad in the stomach. I wish was ter home. [Sits down l. ) 
 
 Si. Been eatin' too many beans, I guess. Caleb, I'm tee tot ally 
 golswizzled if I don't calkilate on a rumpus with these air Johnny rebs. 
 They're thicker round here than flies in a milk pan, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Cal. [Rising in alarm.) You don't reely think so. Uncle Si? 
 
 Si. I swow I do. I've been and made my will on account on it. 
 [Motions to soldiers outside. Soldiers rush in quickly. Here they are 
 now! [Music. Caj^eb throivs himself on his face a7id yells.) 
 
 Cal. Don't kill me ! I'm sick — I'm an orphan ! [Soldiers pick him 
 up and carry him off kicking and yelling. ) 
 
 Enter John Bushnell, letter in hand. Lies in shadow of tree in l. 2 e., 
 and hegins to read the letter. Soldiers return, camp songs, etc. 
 
 Enter Uncle Dan, r. 3 e. 
 
 Si. Uncle Dan, you've arrived on time. Gin us one of your old time 
 songs. I low you know what I mean. 
 
 Dan. I neber was much ob a singer, Massa, and now I'se gettin' old 
 and sorter par'lyzed in my liber. Ya I Ya ! 
 
 Si. In your liver ? Wall, if that ain't a new-fangled complaint, I'm 
 a sinner. 
 
 Dajt. No, massa, dat's whar you mistake. De liber am de moviii' 
 elyfant ob de constitution. W^hen you 'buse de liber, de constitution 
 gits rantankerous and dars trouble, now I tell yer. 
 
 Sol. That's all right, Do the best you can for us. 
 
 Dan. To please you den, I does what I kin. I'se an ole man, massa, 
 and not long fo' dis world, but while I do stay heah, dars music nuff in 
 .yo' kind words to do fo' Uncle Dan. [Sings. ) 
 
 Sol. (At hack among group.) I say, boys, let's go out and have a 
 game of quoits. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 23 
 
 All All right, come on. Exeunt r. 3 E. 
 
 John. Dear mother ? Her bi ave words of cheer make me feel stronger. 
 And Helen, too ! With such noble hearts at home to encourage -us, we 
 can dare and endure everything for our country. If I should falter in 
 my duty, it would be worse than death to them. God bless them both ! 
 [Kisses the letter.) 
 
 Enter Col. Armstrokg and Capt. Arnold, r. 2 e. 
 
 Col. You see, Capt. , if this rebel cavalry force is at Fairview we must 
 find a crossing below the bridge and cut off the road betw^een them and 
 the main body. 
 
 Capt. Yes, and if they have moved to the ^east, we can cross the 
 bridge and occupy Fairview. 
 
 Col. Exactly. Then we shall be able to keep a watch on their move- 
 ments and prevent their surprising the brigade. 
 
 Capt. Well, then the point is to ascertain the wheieabouts of this 
 force. 
 
 Col. That is what we must do. Do you know a cool-headed, reliable 
 man for this work in your company ? 
 
 John. (Rises, approaches and salutes. ) Excuse me. Captain. I could 
 not help overhearing your conversation. I know what you w^ant and 
 am ready to undertake the task. 
 
 Capt. John Bushnell ! The very m.an, Colonel. 
 
 Col. Yes, I know John Bushnell well. [To John.) I know you are 
 cool and brave, John, but do you thoroughly understand the difficulties 
 to be overcome ? 
 
 John. I think I do, Colonel. If I did not, I would not volunteer. 
 
 CoL Well, I would rather have a volunteer than detail a man to go, 
 but I don't like to risk losing so good a man. You will be wanted some 
 day with shoulder straps. 
 
 John. I must win them, then, and here is a chance to begin. If I am 
 fitted for such an enterprise, so much the more reason why I should use 
 all my abilities in serving my country. If I am captured, I shall know 
 at least that the object of my mission was worthy of the sacrifice. I am 
 ready to take the risk. Wlien shall I start ? 
 
 Col. To-night, so you have ample time to prepare. You must cross 
 the river and get near enough to Fairview to ascertain whether the rebels 
 are quartered there, and if possible, learn their strength. If they have 
 moved, learn where and in what direction. Take only a revolver and 
 knife, move quickly, and report to me as soon as you return. 
 
 John. I will use all caution, and if I fail, it will not be my fault. 
 Should I be killed, or captured as a spy, which means death, tell my 
 mother how I fell, and comfort her on your return. My country, my 
 mother and — Helen ! I would live for them all, for they need me, but 
 I would die for my country when she calls. 
 
 Col. Be cautious and God be with you. {Music. Shakes hands.) 
 ExewU John r. 2 e. , and Col. and C'apt. , l. 2 e. 
 
 Scene 3. Woods. 1st grooves. 
 
 Enter Uncle Dan, l. 1 e. 
 Dan. Dar ain't no use talkin', but dese am pow'ful close times fo' de 
 coUud popylashin'. Heah we is cooped up in dese yer hills and dunno 
 
•24 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 what's a comin' next. But I feel it in my ole bones dat de day ob 
 thanksgibin ain't far off. We'se prayed long and we'se prayed hard, an' 
 de good Lord's gwine to do sumfin fo' his chillen, I do believe. An' 
 while de ole man waits fo' dat good time, when de anoel Gab'l pints de 
 way for mas' Linkum's sojers, I'se gwine to do what I Kin fo' de Yanks. 
 Dis berry night I'se engaged to show one ob dem Yanks de way to de 
 rebbil lines, and I'll do it, sure nnfF. {Looks R. ) Who dat — who dat 
 coming? It am— no it ain't— yes, it am two boss grey-coats. Dey 
 musa't cotch me heah, fo' dey'd skin me alive, yes dey would. Dar's 
 mischief brewin' suah, an' I'll jes' hide heah and find out about dat. 
 {Music till off. Hides in wing l.) 
 
 Enter Oscar Girard, as Capt, C. S. A., and Hugh Calvert, Lieut. C. 
 S. A., -R. 1 E. Music. 
 
 Cal. This is important information, Capt. Girard, and I presume you 
 will immediately act upon it. 
 
 Os. Yes, Lieutenant, at once. 
 
 Cal. How did you ascertain it ? 
 
 Os. From a deserter from the Union camp, and only an hour ago. 
 We must capture the spy before he can enter our lines, if possible ; if not, 
 then before he crosses Little Hollow on his way back. 
 
 Cal Have you notified the Colonel ? 
 
 Os. No. There is not time, and besides, I want to effect the capture 
 myself. You know how I am looked upon in the regiment. The officers, 
 from the Colonel down to Corporal, with few exceptions, treat me with 
 undisguised disdain, simply because I was not born in the sunny Soifth. 
 I want an opportunity like this, to show them that I can do my part 
 when occasion demands. 
 
 Cal. I never doubted your bravery, Capt. Girard, nor your sincerity 
 and patriotism. Still, I have often wondered why you cast your fortunes 
 with us. 
 
 Os. Never mind my reasons. It is sufficient for you and the 
 rest to know, that I am with you body and soul. I hate as bitterly as 
 you, the mean-spirited dastards who have taken up arms against us. 
 
 Cal. {Coldly.) You are in error, Capt. Girard. I do not hate my 
 opponents, for I belicA^e, as firmly as I believe that our cause is a just 
 one, that the Northerners are actuated by what they conceive to be the 
 noblest and most patriotic of motives. 
 
 Os. {Sneeringly.) Patriotism ! Bah ! It's the dollars and cents they 
 are after — nothing else. 
 
 Cal. I'll not discuss the subject, for I perceive that you are even 
 more prejudiced than our most pronounced fire-eatei*s. 
 
 Os. Very well. I'll keep my opinions to myself, if they do not har- 
 monize with your spiritless, milk and water theories. 
 
 Cal. {Angrily.) Do you mean to insult me? Beware, Capt. Girard^ 
 or I may forget that you are my superior officer. 
 
 Os. {Changing Ids moMner quickly.) I beg your pardon, Lieut. Calvert. 
 I meant nothing, I assure you. I am not in the best of humors, to-day, 
 and am as likely to offend my best friend as not. 
 
 Cal. I am glad you intended no offence, for 
 
 Os. (Interrupting.) Say no more, Calvert, for we cannot afford to 
 cj^uarrel at this juncture. We must arrange immediately for the sortie. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 25 
 
 (4o aud pick out three of the bravest and most reliable men in the com- 
 pany, and await me at yonder opening. {Points L. ) 
 
 Cat They shall be there in half an hour. 
 
 Exit L. 1 E. 
 
 Os. John Bushnell is in this neighborhood, is in the brigade which 
 will probably move on our works to-morrow. The time is coming then, 
 when I may meet him face to face. If the fates have so ordained, then 
 •)ne of us must die. This world is too small for both of us, and while he 
 lives with scorn and contempt in his heart for me ; lives to boast of his 
 triumph and my disgrace, why life to me is but gall and wormwood. 
 I'll not endure it. There must be a change, and the sooner it comes the 
 better. The memory of that last scene, of his false-heartedness and her 
 trust, her love in spite of all, well nigh maddens me. (Passionately.) I 
 must not think of it, for when these thoughts arise the torments of hell 
 pale before those I endure. Friends have I none. I stand alone, with 
 no one, no one to care whether I live or whether I die. And yet I might 
 have been happy, I might have had a home and loved ones — an honored 
 name. And when I died my memory would have lived in the hearts of 
 those whom I had loved and toiled for. But now! tis too late — too 
 late ! {Music. ) 
 
 Exit L. 1 E. 
 Re-enter DAN/rom hiding place, 
 
 Dan. {Pointing L. ) He's got em, sure's yer born. I only hope dem 
 evil spirits will cotch him afore he finds mas' Bushnell. Dat reb wid de 
 jim-jams don't spec dat mas' Bushnell is de spy. Laws-a-massy wouldn't 
 he stan on his head fo' joy ef I tole him. Look heah, nigger, dis w^on't 
 do. You'se done got to stir yo' bones and stop dis little s'prise party. 
 Dey musn't cotch mas' Bushnell a nappin, and dey won't ef ole Dan 
 knows hisself. I don't want to see no mo' trouble, so I'll git dar ef I 
 kin. I'll make dat feller wid de jim-jams do a heap ob cussin 'fore long. 
 Ya! Ya! 
 
 Exit R. 1 E. 
 
 Scene 4. Landscape. Sd gi-ooves. 
 
 ^'/i^er Harley,l. 2 E. 
 Har. That confounded letter came near being the death of me. The 
 forgery was detected at once, and if I hadn't made a break when I did 
 I'd have been a martyr by this time. {Looks R.) Some one coming ! 
 It is — Mildred Buford. Aha ! my lady, fine words won't turn out trumps 
 this time ! 
 
 Exit L. 3 E. 
 Enter Mildred, r. 2 e. Music. 
 
 Mil. What a beautiful night ! Not a star is obscured, and the moon 
 looks down as serenely as though her light were reflected upon a scene 
 of happiness and peace. Ah me ! I wish this cruel war were over. It will 
 be soon if our brave soldiers do not become discouraged. But I must 
 return. 
 
 Ente7' Harley unperceived, l. 3 e. 
 I fear I have wandered further than I intended, and God knows what 
 dangers may lurk in these mountain fastnesses. {Starts to return, r. 
 Music — chord. ) 
 
26 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Har. {Coming foricard, e.) Not so fast, my beauty. You will 
 remain here longer than you calculated. 
 
 Mil. (Attempting to pass him.) Move out of my path, sir, or you 
 shall answer for this outrage. 
 
 IIa7\ Oh, I will, will I? Perhaps you will call upon your uncle, or 
 your friend, Mr. Calvert, but let me inform you that they are miles 
 away from this spot. There is no one within hearing distance, and so, 
 for once, Mildred Buford, you will abide by my wishes. 
 
 Mil. (Aside.) Merciful heaven, what does he mean? Is there no 
 escape ? 
 
 Har. I do not desire to put you to any inconvenience, nor to flood 
 those pretty eyes with tears, unless I am obliged to. 
 
 Mil. Scoundrel, what do you want? I am at your mercy — we are 
 alone — but beware how you proceed. There is an unseen power that 
 watches over and protects the weak and defenceless, and take care that 
 you do not feel its wrath. 
 
 Har. (Laughing.) So you want to terrify me, to stay my purpose? 
 But, (Advancing) you cannot do it. I fear nothing above or below, and 
 I've made up my mind that when you leave this spot to-night, you leave 
 with me. 
 
 Mil. (Changing her manner. ) Oh, Mr. Harley, do allow me to return 
 to the house. Let me pass, and I promise never to mention what has^ 
 occurred. I implore you, do not detain me longer. 
 
 Har. No. I've waited for this opportunity, and I am a fool if I do 
 not take advantage of it. Come, (Seizes her. Music. ) 
 
 Mil. Screaming. Help! Help! 
 
 Enter John Bushnell, l. 2 e. 
 
 John. ( Throws Harley off and draws revolver. ) You cowardly rascal, 
 what do you mean ? 
 
 Mil. (Clinging to John.) God bless you, sir. He — he sought to 
 detain me here against my will. 
 
 Har. (l. c. ) A likely story, and he's likely to believe it. 
 
 John. Another word, sir, and it shall be your last. I believe this 
 lady, and I believe you to be so small and contemptible as not to be 
 worth the powder in one of these barrels. The sooner you take yourself 
 off the better it will be for you. 
 
 Har. Thank you. And the sooner you get back among your kind, 
 the better it will be for you. (Starts to go. ) 
 
 John. Halt! (Harley s^op^.) I have reconsidered the matter. You 
 will be kind enough to throw down your pistol — throw it down, I say ! 
 (Harley sullenly complies. ) 
 
 Mil. Oh, sir, what are you going to do with him ? 
 
 John. I'm going to pull his teeth and cut off his claws, that's all. 
 (Calls L.) Uncle Dan ! 
 
 Enter Dan and Cato, l. 2 e. 
 
 Dan. Heah we is, mas' Bushnell. (Sees Mildred.) Bress my soul, 
 is dat you. Mis' Mildred? What you doin' here? 
 
 Mil. (Taking his hand. ) I have just escaped a serious danger ; I can't 
 tell you anything more. 
 
 Cato. Leave her 'lone, can't you, and attend to de boss. See what 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 27 
 
 he wants, pop, and quit foolin' wid de missus. Come away from dar — 
 come away from dar, now. 
 
 John. Dan, take this rope, go to that man yonder, and bind him. 
 He must not escape. 
 
 Har. What ! Am I a prisoner ? 
 
 John, You will find out in time. Don't resist, or the Southern 
 Confederacy will be minus a soldier. 
 
 Dmi. ( Who has been regarding Harley in astonishment during John's 
 speech. ) I hope I may nebber — I hope I may nebber see de back ob my 
 neck if dat ain't mas' Harley. Times ain't what dey used to was, dat's 
 a fac'. {Approaching,) I'se sorry to do it, massa, I is indeed, but I'se 
 acting under anoder oberseer now, and what he says is de law and de 
 gospel. (Harley looks at him contemptuously, hut does not answer. ) 
 
 Cato. Want me to help you, ole man? 
 
 Dan. Yes, I specs you'd better hold his hands 'hind his back, while I 
 tix him. [They proceed to hind him. ) 
 
 Har. Curse your black carcass, you're stopping the circulation of 
 blood. 
 
 Dan. Is I? Well dat's curus. Dat's rebersin' de order ob ebolution. 
 Ya, ya! I remember de time, Mas' Harley, when you increased de 
 circulation ob old Dan's blood. De times have switched around, dat's a 
 fac'. ( 2^0 John. ) De prisoner am imprisonated, mas' Bushnell. 
 
 Jolin. Now take him to that tree, (Pointing l. 3 e. ) tie him to it 
 securely, and we will bring him in wb^n we return. 
 
 Dan. All right, massa. ( They take hold of him. ) 
 
 Har. ( To John. ) Curse you ! 
 
 Dan. Don' cuss, mas' Harley, fo' you know how I dislike to hear 
 perfanity. Git 'long, git long, now. [Exeunt Dan, Cato and Harley, 
 L. 3e.) 
 
 Mil. How can I express my gratitude, sir, for your timely assistance. 
 You have done me a service which I can never forget. 
 
 John. [Modestly.) I couldn't do less and be a man, I am sure. And 
 yet I would do more than this for any woman in distress. 
 
 Mil. You are brave and noble for all that. May I ask your name ? 
 
 John. Certainly. I am John Bushnell, priv^ate soldier in the Union 
 army. 
 
 Mil. [Stepping hack.) A Union soldier my preserver ! 
 
 John. Nothing wrong about that, ma'am, is there? 
 
 Mil. I-^I — -excuse me, I must return to my home. {Aside. ) To be 
 iinder obligations to a Yankee ; the idea is insufferable. 
 
 John. (Advancing.) You will permit me to act as your escort until 
 you are within safe distance, at least. If I am not of your political 
 faith, yet you must believe that I am a gentleman. 
 
 Mil. (Quickly.) Yes. Forgive my rudeness. I accept your escort 
 with pleasure. ( Takes his arm. ) 
 
 Re-enter Dan and Cato. 
 
 Dan. We'se done it. We lashed him to dat tree so tight dat de 
 debbil hisself can't unloose him. 
 
 Cato. 'Deed we did, massa. He kicked and. fit like a mad 'possum, 
 but 'twarn't no use, you better believe. But ain't he a cussin' ! De 
 air's jest blue wid his perfanity. Well, I reckon he'll stop when he gits 
 fm. Ya= ya ! 
 
 / 
 
28 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 John. Ail right. Now, run on aliead and I'll join you presently. 
 (Dan and Cato exit, r. 2e., John arid Mildred follovj slowly. Music.) 
 
 Enter Girard and three Confederate soldiers, l. 1 E. 
 
 Os. Tills is the place where we must surprise him, boys. There's a 
 chance for a skirmish to-night, and if so, we musn't be in it. Our pur- 
 pose must not and shall not be thwarted. 
 
 1st Sol. What must we do then, Captain ? 
 
 Os. Conceal ourselves below yonder rocks, (Pointing l. 3 e. ) and if 
 there's fighting going on, we will be out of harm's way. [Firing heard l. ) 
 Hark ! The fun has commenced. Let us get out of this. 
 
 Exeunt l. 3 e. 
 
 Har. (Outside.) Help! Help! 
 
 Os. ( Ontside. ) Hello ! What's this ? 
 
 JRe-enter Harley and Girard, l. 3 e. 
 
 Os. Who are you ? 
 
 Har. A Confederate soldier, who fell into the hands of the Philistines. 
 
 Os. How long since ? 
 
 IIa7\ Not fifteen minutes ago. 
 
 Os. How many of them surprised you ? 
 
 IIa7\ Three — a Union scout and two niggers. 
 
 Os. (Aside.) The spy, by all that's holy. (To Har.) Which way 
 did they go ? ^ 
 
 Har. In that direction. (Pointing r. 2 e. ) 
 
 Os. (Aside.) He will make it, but we'll have him as sure as fate 
 when he returns. ( To Har. ) You would like to capture this fellow, 
 wouldn't you ? 
 
 Har. Would I ? Ha ! Just give me a chance. 
 
 Os. Then come with us. Our object to-night is to surprise and 
 capture this same Union scout. 
 
 Har. I'm your man. Lead on, Captain. Music. 
 
 Exeunt l. 3 e. 
 
 Firing heard l. Enter Confederate squadron l. 2 e. , followed by Union 
 force. Battle. Confed^s driven off, R. 2 e. They rally and repulse Unian 
 force, which retreats to entrance L., then re-ir forced they charge on Confed- 
 erates. Many of the latter are slain and the rest retreat, r. 2 e., the Union 
 force in pursuit. 
 
 Enter John Bushnell, r. 3 e. Music, 
 
 John. I have had a narrow escape. But in the darkness I managed 
 to elude the rebel skirmishers, and now I am safe. I have succeeded in 
 my venture, and soon will be within our lines and before the Colonel. 
 I am glad, for Helen's sake, that I have not failed. For her sake the 
 reward will be doubly precious. Uncle Dan warned me of this spot, but 
 I have no fears, for the fight has driven the Confederates into their 
 stronghold. (Starts for Ij. 2 ^.) 
 
 Enter Girard's soldiers, l. 3 e. Mime. 
 
 1st Sol. Halt ! Surrender ! 
 
 John. My God, have I failed ! ( Unbuckles his pistol and throws it 
 down.) You have me at a disadvantage. I await your commands. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 29 
 
 Enter Oscar Girard, l. 3 e. 
 
 Os. So, that's the fellow. {Advancing,) John Bushnelll (Music, 
 continuing till end of Act.) 
 
 John. Oscar Grirard ! 
 
 Os. A prize indeed. I little dreamed you were the man I was seeking. 
 
 John. {Scorn/idly. ) You have done well. May you reap the reward 
 such bravery merits. 
 
 Os. Reward ! Yes, I will have my reward. It has been slow in 
 coming, the day I have waited and prayed for, but, John Bushell, it has 
 come at last ! (Tableau.) 
 
 Draw flats and disclose 
 
 TABLEAU— ''RECEIVING THE NEWS." 
 
 Slow curtain, 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ACT. 
 
m LOYAL HEARTS, 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene L Parlor in Gen. Lamar's mansmi. Sd grooves. Finely 
 furnished. 
 
 Discover Mildreb seated^ r. c. 
 
 Mil. At sunrise to-morrow John Bushnell will be shot as a spy. The 
 man who rescued me from that villain, Harley, captured by my friends, 
 tried and sentenced to death by them ! Oh, the horrors of this cruel 
 war I For three weeks that brave Union soldier has been confined in 
 this house, awaiting the return of my uncle to act as his judge I That he 
 should die thus ! — he who saved me from a fate far worse than death ! 
 Something must be done ; he must not, shall not perish, {Crosses to l. 
 and knocks on door. Guard opens it.) 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 Mil. I want to see your prisoner for aJ[ew moments. Perhaps he 
 desires to send some word to his friends up North. Can't he come in 
 here ! 
 
 Guard. My orders. Miss Bnford, are not to let him out of my sight. 
 
 3IiL Yes, I know. But only for a few moments. These are his last 
 on earth, and you won't refuse this little favor ? 
 
 Guard. I can't refuse you, Miss Buford, but you must give me your 
 word that he'll not escape, and that he shall return to this room when 
 you hear a footstep. 
 
 Mil. Yes, I pledge my honor, my life upon that. 
 
 Guard. (Calling lu.) Bushnell! Step this way. 
 Enter John Bushnell, l. 
 
 Exit Guards L. 
 
 John. 1 am at your service. Miss Buford, but what can I, a prisoner, 
 do for you ? 
 
 Mil. It is I who would do you a service, if possible. But I am 
 afraid my debt of gratitude can never be paid. Had you not stopped to 
 save me from that ruffian, you might have escaped, and I should not 
 have felt as though I were the cause of this terrible ending of your rash 
 exploit. 
 
 John. Do not look at it in that light, I beg of you. 'Tis but the 
 fortune of war, and had I saved myself by leaving you to a terrible fate, 
 I should be an unworthy son of a noble mother, and unfit to serve under 
 the glorious old flag that shields the weak and piotects the defenceless. 
 
 Mil. Is there no escape ? 
 
 John. I am afraid not. The guards are watchful, and prepared for 
 any emergency. 
 
 Mil. [Impetuously^ grasping his hand.) But you can try. Oh, for 
 heaven's sake, make an attempt at least. 
 
 John. For the sake of those I love, I would live, but if it is the will 
 of heaven that I should die, I will try and meet my fate like a soldier 
 aihl a iiian I 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 31 
 
 Helen. [Outside.) Mildred! Mildred! [J otl^ starts, and MiijyuYA) 
 ^springs to door and opens it. Music. ) 
 
 Enter Helen Marsh, d. in f. 
 
 Mil. Helen Marsh ! 
 
 Hel. Dear Mildred ! [Embrace. ) 
 
 John. [Aside.) Helen here ! This is more than I can bear. 
 
 Hel. [Turns and sees John. ) John ! [Runs to him. ) 
 
 John. Helen ! [Embrace and hiss. ) My poor girl, what brings you 
 here at this time? 
 
 Guard opens door and looks in. Sees situation, nods his head approvingly, 
 
 and closes door. 
 
 Mil. [Aside.) They know each other? What does this mean ! 
 
 HeL [Weeping.) My love for you, John, brought me here. I could 
 not sta}^ away and you a prisoner. 
 
 Joh7i. How did you get here? 
 
 Hel. Word was sent from the Union lines to Gen. Lamar, and he 
 granted me safe conduct to his headquarters. [To Mildi^ed.) Mildred, 
 I had almost forgotten your presence. This is my cousin, John Bushnell. 
 
 Mildi^ed. I have known Mr. Bushnell for several weeks, but I did 
 not know of your relationship. [Aside.) How shall I tell her the 
 awful news? 
 
 [Clank of sabre heard outside, followed by a knock at door in flat. 
 Mildred catches John by the arm and points to door, l. ) 
 
 Mil, Quick ! Some one comes. You must not be seen in this room. 
 
 Exit John, l. d. 
 Enter Oscar Girard, d. f. Music. 
 
 Os. (c. Removing hat and bowing politely to Mildred. ) I beg your 
 
 pardon. Miss Buford [Sees Helen and stops in confusion. ) And she 
 
 here too ! Am I dreaming ! 
 
 Hel. (r. ) Oscar Girard, as I live ! ( To Os. ) Can I trust my senses ? 
 Oscar Girard in gray ! 
 
 Os. [Bitterly.) Yes, Capt. Girard, C. S. A. A rebel if you will. 
 Does it surprise you. Miss Marsh? 
 
 3Iil. [Aside.) What mystery is this? I cannot understand these 
 strange recognitions. .^ 
 
 Hd. It does surprise and pain me, Oscar Girard. I could not believe 
 you a coward when you disappeared so suddenly, and others accused you 
 of fleeing to Canada. But farthest of all from* my mind was the suspi- 
 cion that you were a traitor ! 
 
 Mil. [In remonstrance. ) Helen ! 
 
 Hel. Forgive me, Mildred. In my surprise at seeing a Northerner in 
 that uniform, I forgot that I might hurt your feelings. I know that you 
 and yours are sincere in the belief that the cause of the South is a 
 just one. 
 
 Os. [Bitterly.) But you refuse me the same consideration. Well, I 
 don't deserve it. Oscar Girard is not worth considering. His life is a 
 failure ; he has gone to the devil, and it makes no difference how, or in 
 what way. Nothing that I may do can be right or sincere. 
 
 Mil. I do not know what Capt. Girard's motives may be, but we have 
 something of greater moment to talk about. Helen you do not know — 
 you have not heard 
 
32 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 Hel, (Interrupting.) What? {In alarm,) Why do you hesitate? 
 What do you mean? 
 
 Oa. {Quietly.) She means that John Bushnell has been captured 
 as a spy. 
 
 Hel. {In terror. ) No, no, not a spy, for his fate would be 
 
 Os. Death! (Helen shrieks and totters. Oscar and Mildred 
 mipport her. ) 
 
 Mil. Do not despair, Helen, There may be hope. Perhaps we can 
 save him. We ivill save him. 
 
 Os. {Aside.) This is for him! Were I in his place, it would be, 
 **Poor follow, his own fault." 
 
 Hel. {Looking up.) Hope! Do you think so? Is there yet time? 
 
 Mil. But little time remains, still uncle's influence might be gained, 
 and — {Stops as if stimck by a sudden thought) — there is Capt. Girard ! 
 ( To Os. ) You who captured him, must have some influence. You will 
 surely use it. 
 
 Hel. You his captor— you? I will not believe you capable of such 
 an act. 
 
 Os. I am a Confederate officer. I did my duty. I was not one of his 
 judges. 
 
 Hel. {In agitation. ) Mildred, let me speak with Capt. Girard alone. 
 Wait for me in the next room. 
 
 Zlil. Certainly, if you wish. Exit Mil. r. 
 
 Hel. {Aside. ) Now heaven give me strength and courage ! ( 2h Os. ) 
 Oscar, I have come from his mother to comfort and aid John in his 
 imprisonment, and you tell me he must die, be shot like a dog. You 
 tell me this and you say you did your duty in bringing your old school- 
 mate and friend to his death. What duty do you owe to the Southern 
 Confederacy, Oscar Girard? 
 
 Qs. The duty of a soldier to the cause for which he is fighting. You 
 mistake when you say John Bushnell is my friend. 
 
 Hel. Has he ever acted otherwise than as a friend to you ? Oh, you 
 do not mean what you say. 
 
 Os. How has he befriended me? By stepping between you and me; 
 by pretending not to know that I loved you more than life, and that I 
 would have given the last drop of blood i:i my veins for one look of 
 tenderness from your eyes. By turning you from me, just as I began to 
 live in the hope that one day I should lay my life, my all, at your feet, 
 and that you would not spurn me. By making me hate all that is deai* 
 to most men in this world, and rendering life a mockery. This is what 
 his friendship has done for me. 
 
 Hel. Oh, Oscar, you are wrong. He did not know this ! 
 
 Os. I lost your love — he stole it. I fell from my position — ^he pros- 
 pered. I was scorned and pitied, and called the wreck of a brilliant 
 man, while his good fortune and untempted goodness made him friends. 
 I had nothing left but misery for the future ; he looked forward to a life 
 of happiness. I am a rebel and an outcast, you say a traitor. He is 
 loyal and a Union soldier. / wear the gray because he wears the blue ! 
 
 Hel, This is terrible. I swear to you, Oscar, he did not mean to do 
 you harm. You never spoke of your love to him or me. 
 
 Os. {A dvancing. ) But I did love you. {Stops and changes his manner. ) 
 Yet you never loved me. You love John Bushnell. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 33 
 
 HeL I do love John Bushnell. If he dies, I do not care to live. 
 You can save him, Oscar. {Music.) For my sake do not let this awful 
 sentence be executed. For my sake, Oscar, if you ever loved me. 
 {Kneels to him.) 
 
 Os. {Aside.) She kneels to me ! {To Helen.) Perhaps I can not. 
 It may be too late. Only a few hours remain. Arise, Helen, that is 
 not your place. 
 
 ITel. No, no. I will not arise until you promise. Oh, save him 
 Oscar; save him for his poor mother. It will kill her. See, I beg, I 
 pray to you. Forget that you are a soldier, and let your better nature 
 triumph. Save him for my sake ! 
 
 Os. {Agitated.) I am not the one to whom you should pray. Helen, 
 arise. {Bends over and raises her. ) 
 
 Hel. {Joyfully. ) Then j^ou consent ? You will try ? 
 
 Os. I — I will see what can be done. Go to him. Tell him — {Thinks 
 a moment)— toll him to pretend illness — neuralgia — and cover his face 
 with a handkerchief. Never mind why. Do this and then go with Mil- 
 dred to the General. Lose no time. 
 
 Hel. God bless you for this. You are the old Oscar Girard again. 
 I will obey you implicitly. We shall save him with the help of heaven ! 
 (Mumc till end of scene. 
 
 Exit Helen e. 
 
 Os. {In reflection.) For /^er sake! What would I not have done for 
 her sake but a few years ago. She might have asked for my life and I 
 would have given it without a regret. Now she pleads for his life, and asks 
 me to forego the revenge I have waited for so long. For this I have bar- 
 tered my honor, my reputation, my very soul ! It is now within my grasp 
 and she comes with tears and prayers and asks me to throw it all away. 
 Shall I consent ? {Pause. ) If I refuse and John Bushnell dies, upon 
 whom does my revenge fall? Upon him? No, upon the woman that 
 loves him, upon Helen Marsh whom I love. If I grant her prayer, and 
 restore John Bushnell to freedom, w^hat do I gain? Gratitude? Yes. 
 But does that recompense me for all I have suffered ? To see her bestow- 
 ing upon him the love and smiles that my heart has hungered for — will 
 their gratitude sw^eeten the bitterness of that cup? Will this act redeem 
 the wasted life, the neglected opportunities, the reckless dissipation and 
 despair? No. It will but make lifeless endurable. It will take away 
 the only remaining hope that has sustained me. {Pause.) Bui — for her 
 sake ! {Another pause. ) To-morrow's sun shall see the fulfillment of my 
 purpose ! 
 
 Exit R. 1 E. 
 
 Scene 2, Landscape. 1st grooves. 
 
 Enter Caleb Dow, unarmed, L. 
 
 Cal. Oh dear, oh dear, I wonder what will become of me? I've lost 
 my way and I'm a dead man, I feel it iu my bones. When tliose rebel 
 skirmishers attacked us, I was taken with one of my sick spells. I 
 never was so sick in my life. I was sick all over, and as I didn't have 
 any quinine, why I run off to get some, and I do guess I run the wrong 
 
34 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 way. Where am I ? I don't kfiow. I may be in awful danger, and if 
 I am — [hohs nervously around) — what shall I do? I wish I was at home. 
 I Avish I had never been born. 
 
 Enter Harley icith gun^ r. 
 
 [Aside. ) I'm done for, now. 
 
 Har. {Aside,) A Yank and unarmed. He's my meat. (To Caleb.) 
 Surrender ! 
 
 Gal. Yes, I do, but don't kill me. I'm sick, I've got the heart 
 disease, and — and I never harmed anybody in all my life. I never did. 
 Mister. 
 
 Flar. [Aside.) That's the fellow who arrested me vrhen I tried to 
 enter the Union lines. I'll have some fun with him. ( To Cal. ) Now 
 you've got to obey orders. If you don't, I'll run this bayonet through 
 
 Cod. Don't stick that in me and I'll do anything. 
 
 Har, See that you remember it. Right face. (Caleb obeys. ) Down 
 on your knees. (Caleb falls on his knees. ) Hands behind your back. 
 (Caleb complies.) Now, do you know "Mary had a little lamb?" 
 
 Cal. Yes — yes, sir. 
 
 Har. Then repeat it, and mind, if you miss a single line I'll jog your 
 memory with this. ( Tapping bayonet. ) 
 
 Cal. Oh, I'll say it backv/ard, if you'll be kind to me. 
 
 Har. Go on, then. (Caleb recites the Jirst verse. ) Now the second 
 verse. [QaIjEB, after considerable difficulty, geis through the verse.) Now 
 get up. (Caleb gets up, ) Left face — forward, march ! Gives him a prod 
 ivith the bayonet.) 
 
 Exeunt, l. 
 
 Scene 3. Plain chamber, 3d grooves, chairs R. and l. Gas one-half 
 
 down. 
 
 Discover John Bushnell, seated l. c. Music during soliloquy. 
 
 John. A few hours and all will be over. At daybreak to-morrow I 
 shall die. The last hope is gone, and there only remains the dread 
 fulfillment of the sentence which deliver.^ me from all the joys and ills 
 of earth. Do I fear the ordeal? No. I have not shrunk from the 
 sacrifice, and I am ready to meet it. And yet how I long to live. How 
 precious life is to me at this moment. ( With emotion. ) Mother ! Helen ! 
 To part from you now, to leave behind such a wealth of love, such golden 
 promises. [Calmly.) But it is for the best, and in spite of earthly long- 
 ings and mortal cares, a happiness born of heaven cheers me on the brink 
 of death. I shall meet, them there ! — there, where there is neither hate 
 nor discord, but eternal peace and love. 
 
 Enter Guard dragging Caleb Dow, r. d. in r. 
 
 Guard. Come, tumble in here, you Yankee numbskull. 
 
 Cal. [Falling on his knees and clasping his hands. ) Don't kill me, Mr. 
 rebel, don't, that's a dear, good man. I'm subject to heart disease, and 
 I'll die of my own accord if you'll let me alone. 
 
 Guard. [Contemptuously.) Kill you ! Ha! Ha! Oh no. That would 
 be doing you a service. Life is a burden to you, I should judge, and as 
 I wi jh you ill, I want you to live. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 35 
 
 Col. Oil thank you, thank you. I am yours with — with respect — 
 truly yours — your most obedient servant, as long as I live. I'll remem- 
 ber you, see if I don't. 
 
 Guard. Yes, I think you will. 
 
 Cal. You — you are sure, perfectly satisfied, good Mr. rebel, that I 
 won't be killed? 
 
 Guard. Certain of it. Will exchange you at the first opportunity 
 for a Confederate soldier. We w^on't keep you long. 
 
 Cal. Thank you again, thank you. You have added ten years to my 
 life. Oh, Melissy, Melissy, you shall yet clap eyes upon your iovin' 
 Caleb. 
 
 Guo.rd. You needn't thank me. Come, get up out o' that. (Pi'ods 
 him loith bayonet.) 
 
 Cal. [Rising nimbly.) Oh yes, I'll get up — I'll do anything for you. 
 I'll stand on my head if you say so. 
 
 Guard. Stop your nonsense, or I'll soften that head o' yourn with 
 this musket stock. 
 
 Cal. I will. I will keep my mouth shut for a month of Sundays. 
 Turns and sees JoHJf. ) Good gracious ! Is that you, John ! 
 
 John. How are you, Caleb ? 
 
 Cal. Oh, I'm six of one and half a dozen of the other. We're in for 
 it, I calkilate. 
 
 John. Yes, but to-morrow I shall be free ! 
 
 Cal. Free ! Then John, I'll tell you what I want you to do. You — 
 {Notices ex^rression on John's /ace and stops suddenly.) Oh ! 
 
 Guard. Get in there. (Pointing l. ) No conversation allowed between 
 prisoners. 
 
 Exit Cal. l. , folloiced by Guard. 
 
 JoJm. [Rising. ) Yes, soon will I be free, and my soul will mount on 
 aitgel's wings to the land of eternal liberty ! [Music for Dan's entrance.) 
 
 Uncle Dan shows head in D. in r. 
 
 Dan. Mas' Bushnell, is you 'lone? 
 
 John. Yes. 
 
 Dan. [Entering.) I'se ter'ble sorry fo' you, massa, I is indeed. 
 
 John. [Shaking his hand. ) 1 know it, Uncle Dan, and I know that 
 you would do anything for me that were possible. How did you pass 
 the guard? 
 
 Daji. Oh, easy nuff, easy nuff. I'se a priv'leged pusson. De ole 
 Judge — he's a Gineral now — gimme de permit. Now, let de ole smile 
 come in yo' face once mo'. Don't be cas' down, for de Lord ain't forsook 
 you altogedder, yit. 
 
 John. Ah, Uncle Dan. He never will forsake me ! 
 
 Dan. Now, look aheah, massa, don't go fo' to say I'se old and foolish 
 and don't on'stan de 'sponsibilities ob de situashin ; don't say I mean 
 well fo' you an' try fo' to cheer you up, fo' dat ain't it. [Mysteriously.) 
 Sumfin may happen — dar's no tellin', massa — an' if dar does, you'll find 
 ole Dan on de udder side ob de bridge ready to help you fru, and to gib 
 up his ole life fo' your sake. 
 
 John. God bless you, Dan. I thank you from the bottom of my 
 heart, but [sadly) there's no hope, no hope. 
 
 Dan. Don't you fool yo'self. De Lord ain't gwine to hab such doin's 
 
:-M 
 
 36 LOYAL HEARTS, 
 
 done ; he ain't, suah. {Coming nearer.) You's been berry kind tome, 
 sail, and many, many times you's made me feel glad dat I was born, 
 {Earnestly. Massa, don't gib up de ship yit. Liff up yo' soul, fo' de 
 Lord'll do sumlin dat will 'clipse his doin's wid Dan'l in de lion's den, 
 I'se suah he will. 
 
 John. Well, I'll try and think so, for your sake. 
 
 Dan. Dat's right — dat's right, {At door.) I mus' be goin now. 
 Keep up yo' heart, massa, don't forgit. 
 
 Exit D. in F. 
 
 John. What a grand old soul is there in that poor old negro, the 
 representative of a despised and persecuted race. But Uncle Dan's 
 reward will come ; if not in this world, then in the next. 
 Enter Oscar Girard, d. in f. Music. 
 
 {Aside.) Oscar Girard! 1 thought in my last moments he would 
 have left me to myself. 
 
 Os. {r. c.) You were not expecting a visit from me? 
 
 John. No. Still in the light of your past conduct, it is not surprising. 
 
 Os. John Bushnell, do you remember the time, long 3^ears ago, when 
 you and I played together on the old common? Do you remember how 
 I en\^ed you then ? I was a poor orphan boy, and you had a pleasant 
 home, a father's care and a mother's love. 
 
 John. {With anger.) Yes, I remember it too well, and when I con- 
 trast your life, your thoughts, your aspirations then, with what you have 
 since done, with what you are now, my soul is filled with indignation at 
 your audacity and shamelessness in now referring to it. 
 
 05'. {Sits R. c. ) I was an ill-conditioned child at best. But I hadn't 
 a wicked heart, and I did w4sh then — and I have wished since, how 
 fervently none can tell — for some one to love and cherish ; some one who 
 could understand me, and who would have been my guiding star, making 
 me strong, when I was weak and faltering. I — I meant well, John, in 
 those days, indeed I did. 
 
 John. {Looking at him in surprise.) What is your object in alluding 
 to that which is past and gone, and which {BitteHy) might well be for- 
 gotten ? I see. It is for the purpose of causing me additional pain on 
 this, my last night on earth. 
 
 Os. {Gently.) No, John, no. Whatever I have been, whatever my 
 shortcomings, my faults, my crimes, I never meant to embitter your last 
 hours. {Rises and goes toicard D. in f. 
 
 John. I confess I do not understand you. 
 
 Os. {Locking door. ) You will not remain long in doubt. 
 
 John. {Aside.) Does he mean to fulfill his threat of revenge and kill 
 me here! {To Oscar.) Oscar Girard, I comprehend the object of your 
 visit at last. You want my life, and will not trust to the authority 
 which sentenced me. Well, I am ready. I can die now as well as 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Os. {Coining down c.) Be seated, John Bushnell. You have mis- 
 judged my motives and my character. Sit down, I say, for I have 
 something to tell you, something that—that interests as both. (John 
 sits L. ) I referred a moment ago to a scene of bygone days. I did so, 
 John, because I feel to-night younger than I have felt for twenty years. 
 I am walking now on the borders of a country that my vision has never 
 before oncoriiprvSsad. I hear the singing of birds, the rnusic of rippling 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 37 
 
 v\ aters, and I breatlio in a new atmosphere redolent with the perfume of 
 (tod's clioicest flowers. Doubts, fears, heartaches are all gone, and I feel 
 at last as though I had not lived in vain. 
 
 Joliii. {Aside. ) He is not in his right mind, surely. { To Os. ) Oscar, 
 you are not yourself. You must have undergone some severe mental 
 strain to-day. 
 
 Os. You are right. I have passed through a conflict to-day that has 
 left me as you now see. I have journeyed out of the gloom and dark- 
 ness and have entered upon a thoroughfare that leads — home! 
 
 John. ( Warmly.) You have wronged me, Oscar, wronged me cruelly, 
 but as I hope for forgiveness iiereafter, I now forgive you freely. 
 
 Os. (In surprise. ) John, do you mean it ? 
 
 John. Yes. (Oscar grasps him by the hand. ) 
 
 Os. John, I saw Miss Buford before I came here. She has seen Gen. 
 Lamar, and there is no hope. The army moves to-morrow, and there is 
 not time to obtain a reprieve from Eichmond. 
 
 John. I am not surprised, and am ready to meet my fate. 
 
 Os. I saw Helen Marsh, also. (John turns his head away to hide his 
 r motion. ) She gave me a message. She told me to repeat to you these 
 words : Trust fully in Oscar Girard. Obey his commands implicitly. 
 I know his purpose, and I pray for its accomplishment. As you love 
 me, John, follow his directions and comply in all respects with his wishes. 
 
 John. I am in the dark — 1 do not comprehend. But she says trust 
 you, and I do. Give me your hand again. There! (Taking Oscar's 
 hand. ) Do with me as you will. 
 
 Os. You will understand by and by. (Changing his Tnanner and 
 speaking quickly and authoritatively. ) You are under my orders now. 
 
 John. Yes. (Afusic. ) 
 
 Os. Then take off your coat. 
 
 John. What! 
 
 Os. Take off your coat; be quick about it. (John takes off his coat.) 
 
 Os. Now that handkerchief about your face. (John takes it off 
 mechanically.) Give it to me. (Gives.) Now take my coat and put it 
 on. (Oscar takes off his coat.) 
 
 John. What does this mean ? (Suddenly.) Ah, I see! No, no, Oscar 
 Girard, I will not do it. I refuse to accept the sacrifice. 
 
 Os. (Rapidly.) Sacrifice? There is no sacrifice. You will escape 
 without trouble. The countersign is "Richmond." Beyond the last 
 sentry, at the bridge, you will find Uncle Dan, who will guide you to 
 the Union outpost, which is not far distant. You have ample time to 
 head a party and effect my rescue. It can be done to-night. 
 
 John. But you will be recognized when the guard enters. 
 
 Os. No. We are about the same hight, it is dark here, and with 
 your clothes and that handkerchief about my face, I can defy detection. 
 Come man, put on that coat! (Assists Joni^i to put it on, and then give^ 
 him his hat.) 
 
 John. (Taking Oscar's hat.) Oscar, I am fearful — the risk is too 
 great. 
 
 Os. (Putting on John's things. ) No. If you do your part, all will be 
 well. Now button up that coat and go. Remember that Helen, the 
 woman you love, is up-stairs praying for you. Remember that your 
 mother sits at home with hands clasped, waiting for the news that shall 
 
38 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 break her heart or fill her soul with joy. Remember tha^t your country 
 needs you, and that compliance with this demand is not only your salva- 
 tion, but mine ! 
 
 John, I will try it, then. Good bye, Oscar, good bye. I will save 
 you or die in the attempt ? 
 
 Exit D. in r. 
 
 Os. [Staggers hack and falls in chair ^ l. Music. ) At last— at last ! 
 The clouds have disappeared and all is bright once more. It is well, it 
 is well that I have done this. I could not have done better, and come 
 w^eal or woe, I shall never regret it. [Sta.rts up l. ) He will return — I 
 know him so well. He will save me, and then 
 
 Enter Mildred d. f. Music. 
 
 Mil. (r.) I have failed, and the last hope is gone. I must see him 
 once more though I have no words to cheer and comfort him. {Goes 
 toward Oirard.) Mr. Bushnell, I have come — [Girard turns and faces 
 her. Music. Mildred starts. ) You — you have done this ! 
 
 Os. (Calmly.) Yes. 
 
 Mil. To save his life? 
 
 Os. Yes. 
 
 Mil. What heroism ! Brave, noble soul that you are ! 
 
 Os. (Agitated.) No, no. You place too high an estimate upon my 
 action. 
 
 Mil. No — no. You sacrifice your life for his. Let me — let me kiss 
 your hand. (Falls on knees and presses her lips to his hand. Oscar turns 
 away in emotion.) 
 
 Os. (Aside.) What new feeling is taking possession of my soul? She 
 honors me — she, so good and beautiful ! 
 
 Mil. And you will die ! This is cruel. 
 
 Os. No, I may be saved. Bushnell will rescue me if possible. 
 
 Mil. But there is danger. You must not be sacrificed. Is there no 
 hope of escape? 
 
 Os. None. 
 
 Mil. (Aside.) What a grand heroic soul. I-^I almost love him ! 
 
 Os. (Aside. ) This but adds new bitterness to the cup. Can it be 
 possible? — no. There is but one woman, and her image is engraven on 
 my heart. 
 
 Mil. Capt. Girard, if you must die, I want to tell you how much I 
 honor you, and how sorry I am for you. (Noise outside. Mildred 
 springs to Oscar's side. ) Some one coming. Can it be your rescuers ? 
 
 Enter Guard. Music. 
 
 Os. No. It is not yet time. Be calm, now, for the sake of the man 
 whose place I have taken ; for the sake of Helen, your friend, and the 
 woman he loves. 
 
 Guard. Prisoner, I have unpleasant news to communicate. 
 
 Os. (In a whisper y his face turned from, the guard. ) Unpleasant news? 
 What can it be? 
 
 Guard. The enemy's force are moving, are even now near at hand, 
 .and an immediate retreat has been ordered. In consequence, the execu- 
 tion will take place immediately. (Mildred shrieks, Oscar siqjports her. ) 
 
 Guard. My orders are to take you out upon the square at once. 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 39 
 
 Os. {Great mental struggle lasting half a minute. Then to the guard.) 
 I am ready ! 
 
 3Iil. {Starting.) No, no, you must not, you shall not! There is 
 some mistake. The man you have imprisoned here is — {Shots heard out- 
 side. Exit Guard door l. Another volley. Enter Union soldiers D. inY. 
 and at l. d. John leading latter body. 
 
 TABLEAU. 
 
 Quick curtain. 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH ACT. 
 
40 LOYAL HEAETS, 
 
 ACT it:fth. 
 
 Scene L Landscape. Jftli grooves. Near Appomattox. 
 Enter Calvert and several Confederates, e 2 e. 
 Cal. (Facing them.) Soldiers, this is our last chance. The enemy is 
 before ns and a defeat now would demoralize the entire corps. Be brave 
 then, be vigilant, sure of arm and quick of eye. Forward ! 
 
 Exeunt l. u. e. 
 Firing L. Re-enter Confederates, l. u. e. followed by Union squad. 
 Calvert falls. U7iion force, including Si Winslow, /oZ/oit? in pm-siiit of 
 feeing Confederates, R. 
 
 Exter Caleb Dow, cautiously, l. 2 e. 
 
 Cal. I can't run as well as I used to, so I calkerlate I'll bring up the 
 rear. (Sees Calvert's hod,y. ) Hello ! There's been a tussle. I won- 
 der if he's dead? (Approaching.) Say, have you kicked the bucket? 
 You aint shammin', are ye. Mister? (Still nearer.) Jerusha, he's dead 
 — dead as a door nail. Who killed the critter? (Stops as if struck by a 
 sudden thought.) Who? Why I killed him, of course. (Looks carefully 
 about. ) I killed him, and I know jest what I'll do, too. I'll make the 
 boys believe I had the all-tarnashunist scrimmage they ever heard tell 
 on. Then I'll be promoted and Melissy will be the proudest piece of 
 caliker that ever tackled sweet cider. Certainly I killed him. Seven 
 of 'em came rushin' on me, and I killed 'em all. No, that won't do. I 
 killed one and the rest flew away. That's it. Now I'll clinch that little 
 argument and make the boys think I'm a bad man with a bad eye. 
 {Opens vest, takes pistol and shoots through vest and coat on left side. 
 Dances about on report of pistol. ) 
 
 Enter Si Winslow and several Union soldiers, R. 2 e. 
 
 Sil. Caleb, what on airth air you doin' there ? Why aint you been 
 helpin' us out, that's what I want to know? 
 
 Cal. Because I had a little fight of my own on hand, that's why. I 
 was set upon by nine rebels, all of 'em over six feet high, and I killed 
 one and the rest run as though Old Nick was after 'em. You orter 
 seen 'em. 
 
 Sil. (Sarcastically.) You did, eh? You're sure you aint stretchin' 
 it jest a little ! Now don't try and come it over us with any of your 
 whoppers, or I'll blow on ye. I will, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Cal. I aint lyin'. I fit the whole caboodle, single-handed. Jest see 
 where I was shot. (Shows bidlet holes.) 
 
 Sil. (Looking.) So they shot ye? Wall, if that don't beat all. And 
 they didn't kill ye? 
 
 CaL No, the bullet must have glanced. 
 
 Sil. (Feeling in Caleb's bosom. ) Let me see. You orter been killed, 
 and I 'low there's a reason for your livin'. (Feels a hard substance in 
 Caleb's inner vest pocket.) I see. (Solemnly.) Caleb, my son, your life 
 has been saved by a miracle. The bullet instead of gallivantin' round 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 41 
 
 your insides and playing smash with your gizzard, struck something in 
 your pocket and suspended business. Many a poor critter has owed his 
 life to that savin' volume of grace, and it speaks well for you, Caleb, 
 that you have always carried it — your mother's gift — next your heart. 
 It shows that your bringin' up w^as such as any young man might be 
 proud of. Here's the dockyment that presarved you. {Draws out pack 
 of cards. A II laugh. SiL looks at cards as if dumbfounded. ) Caleb, I 
 low I made a mistake, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Cal. {Hastily.) They are not mine. I was jest keeping 'em for a 
 feller. 
 
 Sil. I've got an idea, Caleb, that the truth and you parted company 
 some time ago. {SJiots, L.) Come boys, we're needed below. Caleb, 
 you jes' nat'rally come to the front, and if I catch you at any of your 
 pesky tricks again, I'll land you in kingdom come. I will, by beeswax! 
 
 Exeunt l. 2 e. 
 
 Scene 2. Wood. 1st grooves. Gas one-half down. 
 Enter Mildred and Uncle Dan, l. 
 
 Dan. Come 'long, missy, we aint no time to lose. We'se pow'ful 
 fo'tunate ter git away f'rm de house fo' dey begun skirmishin' roun' de 
 lawn. 
 
 Mil. I wish you could find Capt. Girard. He would know which di- 
 rection we ought to take to escape these guerrillas, that are plundering 
 and pillaging friend and foe alike. 
 
 Dan. I know de danger, missy, but we'll soon be clar of de wilder- 
 ness. You foller ole Uncle Dan. 
 
 Mil. I won't say another word. Lead the way. Exeunt R. 
 
 Scene 3. Landscajpe. 3d grooves. Gas three-fourths down. 
 Enter Uncle Dan, r. 2 e. 
 
 Dan. Dis am de dang'rous place. If de coast am clar, I'll go back 
 dar in de brush, git de missus and pOceed wid de journey. Dey don't 
 appear to be no gorillas 'bout heah. {Stops and listeyis.) 'Sh! Was 
 dat? Who dar? Dat you, Cato? Jes' like dat boy, foolin' de ole man 
 wid his nonsense. (Stands with hack to L. u. e.) 
 
 Enter Harley, l. u. e. Music. Full gas. 
 
 Har. {Catching Dan by the shoulder.) So it's you, you old black 
 scoundrel ! I've got you this time. 
 
 Dan. Fo' de Lord, who's dis? {Turns.) Massa Harley! Hebben 
 help de missus now ! 
 
 Har. Is she near this place, you old villain? 
 
 Dan. No, no, mas' Harley. She aint no whar roun' heah. She 
 stayed behin' at Fairview. 
 
 Har. You lie. You know she left Fairview three weeks ago for her 
 sister's home at Appomattox. She's not far away, and you know where 
 she is. Is she at her sister's? Tell me, you whining hypocrite, or I'll — 
 ( Shoves pistol under Dan's face. ) 
 
 Dan. I can't tell yer, suah. Her sister's done gone away long ago 
 
42 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 and dar's no one 'tall at de house. Ise gwine awaj^ all alone. All de 
 darkies hab left de ole place an' Uncle Dan can't stay dar no mo. ' 
 
 Har. No, you won't stay there "no mo'." Do you remember when 
 you tied me to that tree two years ago, and said I'd stay there? Do you? 
 Curse your black heart, you'll stay here, now. {Throivs Dan doivn.) 
 
 Dan. [On his knees.) Don't, Mas' Harley. It ain't wuff while to kill 
 de ole nigger dat ain't got long to stay in dis world, nohow. 
 
 Har. Will you tell me where your mistress is, if I let you go? 
 
 Dan. 1\G, I can't. Fo' de Lord, I can't, massa. [Zlusic till shot is 
 fired. ) 
 
 Har. {Savagely. ) Then may the devil get you. Take that. (Shoots 
 Dan. ) I reckon you won't go far, now. {Spurns Dan with his foot. ) 
 Now for the house ! Exit L. u. E. 
 
 Dan. {Groaning.) Oh, de j)o' missy. De ole man can't help her no 
 mo' ! ( Gas one-half doimi. ) 
 
 Enter Mildred, cautiously, r. 2 e. 
 
 Mil. {Calling.) Uncle Dan! Is he here, I wonder? Uncle Dan, 
 where are you? 
 
 Dan. Yes, I'se heah. {Groans.) 
 
 Mil. {Crossing to Dan.) What! Uncle Dan wounded! Who has 
 done this? 
 
 Dan. Yes, Missj?-, I'se shot fru' de side. {Groans.) Mas' Harley 
 finish his work at las'. 
 
 Mil. Harley — here ! Heaven help me, now ! But speak to me. Uncle 
 Dan. {Kneeling.) Can I not aid you? Haven't you strength to get 
 away from this place with my help? {Raises his head. Music, continuing 
 till end of scene.) 
 
 Dan. No, missy, de ole man's time am come, and de angels am a 
 Avaitin' at de gates fo' to take him home to glory. I'se bin a long time 
 on de road, de ole feet am weary wdd trab'lin, but de golden sho's am 
 ready at de end, and I'se gwine to rest at de foot ob de throne. 
 
 Mil. {Trying to staunch his wound with her handkerchief) No, no, 
 you must not die. This is the work of that cowardly villain. May 
 Heaven deal to him his just reward ! Hunted as a traitor by both sides, 
 lie completes his list of crimes by murdering this old man. What can I 
 do? (Dan raises himself on one elbow.) 
 
 Dan. De angels call Uncle Dan, Let me take yo' han', missy. 
 {Take^ iter hand.) De dear, kin' face am growing dim. De darkness am 
 a fallin' and de world fades befo' de mortal eyes, but de light ob eber- 
 lastin' glory shines ober yonder, and de way am clear. De heabenly 
 chorus am a callin' Uncle Dan, an' he must go. I'se comin', good Lord, 
 I'se corn in'. [Falls bach and dies. Mildred lays him doivn gently.) 
 Tableau. Phantom Gliorus. 
 
 Scene 4. Wood or garden. 1st grooves. 
 
 Enter Oscar Girard, l. 
 
 Os. I wonder what has become of Mildred? I can find no trace of 
 lier. Gen. Lamar dead, her sister gone, her friends scattered far and 
 v,'ide, and the country hereabout, since the surrender of Lee, at the mercy 
 of roving bands of plundering g-uerillas, her situation is indeed a pitiable 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 43 
 
 one. But as long as I live, she will have one friend who will serve and 
 protect her. Unwilling again to take up arms in defence of a cause that now 
 my very soul revolts at, I can find no better occupation, no sweeter duty 
 than in watching over and assisting the helpless and unfortunate. The 
 wild, mad passion for Helen Marsh has vanished, and now I can contem- 
 plate her happiness without one sigh of regret. But Mildred — poor girl 
 — I must not forget her. Brave, patient, noble and self-sacrificing, she is 
 truly one of the purest and best of God's creatures. 
 Enter Cato, r, out of breath. 
 
 Well, Cato, what is the matter? 
 
 Cato. (Excitedly.) Oh, massa, I'se glad I'se foun' yer. Dey's done 
 it, dey's done it. 
 
 Os. Done what? Explain. 
 
 Cato. Uncle Dan — dey's killed him. He'll neber sarb Mis' Mil'ded 
 no mo.' 
 
 Os, (Aside.) Uncle Dan dead ! And he was with Mildred when she 
 left her sister's house. My God, I dare not think of the worst ! 
 
 Cato. Oh, massa, I ain't tole yer all. I heerd de gun go off, an' jes' 
 about dat time I saw massa Harley runnin' f'ru de trees. 
 
 Os. (Starts.) Harley! My worst fears may be realized. Come, 
 Cato, follow me. There's work to be done and you and I must do it. 
 
 Exit Cato, r. 
 
 God grant that she is safe. But if harm has befallen her, the life of 
 Richard Harley shall pay the forfeit ! Exit, r. 
 
 Scene 5. Sitting room in house of Mildred's sister. Neatly furnished. 
 Door, c. Enter MiLTtn^jy, c. d. 
 
 Mil. No one here? All is safe then. The guerillas have departed 
 and there can be no present danger. At any rate, this place is better 
 than those gloomy woods, where every tree seems to conceal a human 
 blood-hound. Uncle Dan dead, I have no one to protect me now. Poor, 
 faithful old slave ! His black skin covered as white a soul as ever dwelt 
 in human clay. The angels have indeed, called him home. (Starts. ) 
 What is that? Something surely stirred outside. I tremble with a 
 nameless horror ! What if that fiend has followed me ? What if — (Mtisic. ) 
 Enter Harley, in disorder-ed condition, c. d. 
 
 (Aside.) I am lost, indeed ! 
 
 Har. Fortune favors me, my lady. I little dreamed to find you here, 
 and alone. (Advancing.) 
 
 Mil, Monster — fiend ! If you have no respect for the living, let the 
 thought of that dead face under the oak appall your guilty souL 
 
 Har. You are wasting breath. Once 1 loved you, and would have 
 obeyed your slightest wish. Now my heart is ice. But one object 
 actuates, but one thought posesses me — revenge ! 
 
 Mil. And you let your vengeance fall on the weak and helpless, upon 
 those who never wronged you. Coward ! In spite of your threats, in 
 spite of the knowledge that your hands have been steeped in human 
 blood, I do not fear you. I scorn and defy you ! 
 
 Har. Brave words those, my beauty, but I'll tame that proud spirit, 
 if I hang for it. (Advances.) 
 
 Mil. (r. c. ) Beware, Richard Harley ! You are treading on danger- 
 
44 LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 ous ground. I am a woman, with but a woman's strength, yet sooner 
 than permit your loathsome touch, I woukl lay you dead at my feet ! 
 (Dravjs dMgger from her bosom,.) 
 
 liar. (Starting back. ) Oho ! The tigress shows her teeth. You mean 
 fight, do you? But I'll show you. My life isn't worth that to me now, 
 [Sna.ps his fingers,) and there's no telling how soon I may go under. But 
 before I do leave this inhospitable clime, I'll pay one score of long stand- 
 ing, and now's my time. [Draws revolver. Music till shot is fired.) 
 
 Mil. What would j^ou do ? Murder me in cold blood ? 
 
 FIa7\ You have said it. The devil has me in his clutches, and one 
 life, more or less, won't unsettle the account. (Cocks pistol and takes aim. ) 
 Enter Oscae, Girard, c. d. He rushes toward Mildred as Harley^/'c^-. 
 
 and receives the shot, then staggers and falls, Mildred supporting him. 
 Harley exits, c. d., at moment of firing. 
 
 Mil. (Piteously .) Oscar, my love, my life ! '(Looks up.) He has 
 killed him ! 
 
 Os. (Rouses. ) Mildred — are you there — safe ? 
 
 Mil. Yes, I am unharmed. But you — you are wounded. 
 
 Os. Yes, his aim was a true one. But I am content Your dear life 
 was not sacrificed. I arrived just in time. (Shot outside ) What is that ? 
 Enter Cato, c. d. , pistol in hand. 
 
 Cato. I fotched him. He'll nebber do no mo' debbil's work, you 
 heah me. (/S'ees- Oscar. ) Oh, massa, is you hurt ? Who done it? 
 
 Os. Harley, but — it's nothing. Is he — really — dead? (Spea'king 
 vnth difficulty. ) 
 
 Cato. 'Deed he is. He was fixin' dat shootin' iron for dis chile's 
 benefit, but I speck I was too spry fo' him. (Music till end of scene.) 
 
 Os. Mildred, let me look into your dear face again. Let me see you 
 smile as you used to before — ah ! I— faint — there's a mist before my eyes 
 — Mildred — kiss me ! (She kisses him — he falls back. ) 
 
 Mil. Oscar, look up, speak to me again. Oscar — Oscar! He has 
 fainted. Cato, some water, quick. 
 
 Exit Cato, o. d. 
 
 My God, if he is dead, what shall I do ? Oscar, my love, that you 
 should suffer thus for me ! (Embraces. Close in. ) 
 
 Scene 6. Street. 1st -grooves. Near Appomattox, C. H. 
 Enter Col. Armstrong and Si Winslow, r. 
 
 Col. A. Weil, Uncle Si, the war is over and we are going home at last. 
 
 Sil. Yes, and I ain tarnation glad of it. I like fightin' well enough, 
 when it's got to be did, but I've done my stint, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Col. A. I can't help thijiking of the brave boys we left in their last 
 bivouac on many a southern field. It will be a sad meeting when we 
 shake hands v/ith some poor fellow's mother, Uncle Si. 
 
 Sil. {Brushing his eyes hastily.) Consarn my old eyes, they've been 
 weakenin' for a spell. But Colonel, don't you know it will be good news 
 that Oscar Girard's turned out so well, considerin' what a no-account 
 feller he used to be. 
 
 Col. A. Yes, it will. Oscar was on the wrong side for awhile, but 
 
LOYAL HEARTS. 45 
 
 after that affair at Fairview, a complQ,te change came over him, and his 
 better nature triumphed. 
 
 Sil. Where is he now? I 'low I give it up. 
 
 Col. A. The last I heard of him, he was making a rattling fight 
 against Dick Harley's rangers. But we must get back fco camp. We 
 will leave for Washington in an hour. 
 
 Sil. I'll put in big licks for Oscar among the folks, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Extunt L. 
 
 Scene 7, cind last. Landscape. Full stage. Tent, r. u. e. Soldiers 
 mahing preparations to break camp. Caleb Dow, at Corporal, among them. 
 Enter Si WiisrsLow, l. 2 e. 
 
 Sil. {To Gal.) Look here, sonny, do you guess what we're j)ullin' up 
 stakes for ! 
 
 Cal. ( With dignity. ) Call me Corporal, if you please. What's the 
 use of havin' a title if nobody ain't goin' to tack it onto a feller? 
 
 Sil. Du tell ! I 'low I let your rank slip my mind as slick as wheel 
 grease. Corporal Dow, we're getting our traps together for home, as 
 sure as death an' taxes. 
 
 Cal. Je-whillikens! Let's say good-bye and leg it for the cars. 
 Where's my things? (Bushes ivildly around, upsetting everything.) Oh, 
 Melissy, I'm coming. I fly to your arms straight as a crow. Oh, cracky. 
 
 Sil. Say boys, some on ye stop that pesky loonatick. He's worse'n 
 a skeered cow in an old woman's posey patch. Gosh all hemlock ! Stop 
 that prancing round — you are like pop-corn on a hot stove. (Catches 
 Caleb. ) 
 
 Cal. Ain't I goin' to see Melissy, and didn't she say in her letter, 
 after I had told her about bein' an officer, that she'd give me a different 
 kind of a smack from the one I got last. I'm in a hurry, Uncle Si. 
 
 Sil. Yv^all, now jist settle down and quiet your hurry. I'll tell M'liss 
 how you killed fourteen Johnnies, and how your prayer-book saved your 
 life, if you don't. She'd like to hear it, so I 'low. 
 
 Cal. Oh, thunder, don't do that — don't. 
 
 Sil. Well, then, don't be boisterous. (Caleb and Silas go up stage. ) 
 Enter John Bushnell, as Major U.S.A., and Col. Abmstrong, l. 2 e. 
 
 John. So we leave for Washington at once. 
 
 Cal. Yes, Major, that is the order. . 
 
 John. I must see that Helen is ready, then. She has rendered noble 
 service in the hospital since she joined us. (Goes to entrance of tent and 
 calls. ) Helen ! 
 
 Enter Helen ft^om tent. 
 
 Hel. Yes, John, I know we are going home, and I am ready. We 
 shall soon see your dear mother, and how happy she will be to look 
 upon your face after these years of absence and anxiety. 
 
 John. And life will be sweet to me with my heroic little wife to cheer 
 me in peace as her presence strengthened me in war. As lovers we have 
 passed through the baptism of blood together, and have earned happiness 
 for the future. 
 
 Sil. Fall in, company! (Soldiers form, military bus. Captain Arnold 
 takes command.) 
 
46 , LOYAL HEAETS. 
 
 Enter Cato, l. 2 e. running. 
 
 Cxto. Hoi' on, hoi' on dar, you sojers. Dar's somebody gwine up 
 Norf wid you. Dey's comin' right 'long and wants you to wait. I'se 
 gwine too, I is. 
 
 Col. We can't take a lot of darkies with us. We must be moving. 
 
 John, Wait a moment, Colonel, please. (T^oCato. ) Who is coming, 
 Cato? 
 
 Cato. Here dey is, now. Hooray ! (Music. ) 
 E7iter Oscar Girard, pale as though from recent illness, Mildred Buford 
 on his arm, l. 2 e. 
 
 John. Oscar ! Thank heaven you have come. We feared you had 
 fallen into the hands of the guerrillas. 
 
 Os. I have been in great peril, but it's all over now. 
 
 John. And you are going home with us ? 
 
 Os. Yes, with the Colonel's permission. 
 
 Hel. ( To Mil. ) And you are going, too, Mildred ? 
 
 Mil. Yes, Oscar has asked me to share his fortunes. He has saved 
 my life, and it belongs to him. Fairview is ruined and desolate, and 
 Oscar and you, dear Helen, are all that I have left to love. Why should 
 I not go with you to your Northern home? 
 
 ffel. You shall. The war that separated us shall but unite us closer 
 than before, and our sister from the Sunny South will find a warm 
 welcome to our Northern hearth. 
 
 Os. And may I forget that in my blindness, I ever raised a hand 
 against the old flag there, [pointing) to strike a single star from its azure 
 field. 
 
 John. A nation's best blood has washed it free from stain. 
 
 Sil. And we'll keep it clean, or I'm a sinner. 
 
 Os. Long may it wave o'er the land of the free. 
 
 Hel. And none but Loyal Hearts! 
 
 A II form picture. 
 
 -;'r * * ■«■ -Jfr * ■«■ -K- -55- -vf -5^ 
 
 '" Soldiers * 
 
 * John '■' '' Hel Col A " '' Cato * 
 
 Os^ *Mil 
 
 ^ * Cal Sil '' ^ 
 
 Dratv flats and show, 
 
 TABLEAU— ' 'RECONCILIATION. " 
 
 Slow curtain. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
W^,' 
 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 III 
 
 016 103 991 3