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AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 WILFRID AND MARY 
 
 OR, 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 ADOMESTIC COMEDY 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 AMERICAN SLAVE LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 THEODORE ST. BO'. 
 
 " Fleecy locks and dark complexion 
 Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 
 Dwells in white and black the same/ 
 Cowper. 
 
 EDINBUEGH : 
 
 MYLES MACPHAIL, 11 ST. DAVID STREET. 
 
 LONDON : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO. 
 
 NEW YORK! APPELTON, BROADWAY. 
 
 1861. 
 
53 W r 
 
 
EIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 LORD BROUGHAM AND VAUX, 
 
 As a recognition of his past services in the cause of Slave 
 
 Emancipation, this work is dedicated, with 
 
 the most profound respect of 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The raw material out of which I have spun the following 
 simple, but, I should hope, telhng little Comedy, was a trifling 
 newspaper paragraph of the 2nd February last. 
 
 The scraps we occasionally meet with in that form are some- 
 times truly harrowing — nor will any one doubt the truth of 
 these heart-rending details. I, at all events, am persuaded 
 they are but meagerly told to what they might be, and that, 
 too, with a strict adherence to truth. Ay, even " Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin," and " The White Slave," touchingly pathetic 
 as they are— are yet, I am persuaded, but feeble pictures of 
 the stern reality. 
 
 My ostensible object in writing " Wilfrid and Mary,' 1 
 is to appeal to the mind and tender sympathy of the British 
 public, through the medium of the bodily senses, by pour- 
 traying some of the everyday Scenes, and the repeated Acts 
 of the sad Drama of life in the United States, as it effects 
 our brother man in ignominious serfdom. 
 
 To me, in this enlightened age, it seems marvellous that 
 such a system as slavery should exist for a day on any 
 
11 PREFACE. 
 
 known portion of the globe. Unflinchingly I hold, that it 
 is not only a sin in any nation to tolerate such a system, but 
 that it is a sin in other nations not to take an active part in 
 its abolition. The subject ought to be before our own and 
 other countries' legislatures ; and if they did no more, they 
 could at all events remonstrate. ..And a hearty and stout re- 
 monstrance from Queen Victoria and her Government, I 
 am assured, will always have its due weight ; not only so, 
 but in a cause like this, she can enlist the sympathy and co- 
 operation of other and influential nations. 
 
 It is quite within the province of a preface for an author 
 to take a cursory or minute glance of the enlarged 
 subject he proposes to elucidate, expose, or expound. But 
 a preface is, or ought to be, something very different from 
 a dissertation. It would therefore be unnecessary for me to 
 give the briefest account of the horrors of slavery, as up to 
 the present moment it exists in the United States of 
 America. Nor have I patience to go minutely into the sub- 
 ject, in a preface to a work like this, to prove that these 
 miserable slaves (four millions in number) are human beings 
 like ourselves, possessed of hearts, feelings, passions, and in- 
 tellects akin to our own : I fear in many instances more 
 tenderly passionate then many of ourselves. 
 
 " Fleecy locks and dark complexion 
 Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 Pwells in white and black the same." — Cowper. 
 
PREFACE. Ill 
 
 Nor will ray temperament permit me attempt to prove to 
 a Christian country like Great Britain, that those abject 
 slaves have souls to be saved as well as the highest and the 
 noblest, or the humblest and the meanest of our land. That 
 were ill-spent time, and a work of supererogation. Neither 
 is it befitting in this place to go into the cruelties that are 
 practised to stir up a feeling of commiseration. It is enough 
 to know that Slavery, the barter of human beings, for a few 
 " almighty dollars," is practised without compunction. No 
 matter where, — if it were at the north pole, we have a right to 
 go there, on the score of humanity, and plead, remonstrate, 
 intercede, or do something. Nor is it a work, in my opinion, 
 for single hands to do. The giant mind and the powerful 
 will of a Reverend Guthrie, is inadequate to the stupend- 
 ous work. Solitary efforts were well enough when it 
 affected ourselves, but the matter should now take on the 
 form of a national question. 
 
 This is what the people, the pulpit, and the press should 
 do— they ought to urge the Government to take up the sub- 
 ject in a national point^of view ; and I am convinced, parti- 
 cularly at this crisis, little would require to be done but to 
 countenance and encourage the free seceding States. No- 
 thing but a great and Majestic or Imperial movement will 
 ever eradicate this Monster Evil from the earth. 
 
 I repeat, the people, the pulpit, and the press — yea, the 
 stage and the senate itself, ought to ring aloud for human 
 justice. Even from the house-tops the cry should ascend for 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 mercy to tens of thousands of " the human form divine," 
 who are kept in utter ignorance of a Prince of Peace, and 
 debased to the level of the brute creation. " The likeness of 
 God's own image" should not be doomed from birth by 
 enactment either of man or nation, to thraldom, misery, and 
 woe. Such degrading bondage should not for a day be suf- 
 fered to prevail without something being done to snap the 
 chains of Slavery asunder. Napoleon the III. sets himself 
 up as the champion of political liberty — why should not 
 Victoria the I. become the advocate of enslaved humanity ? 
 It would, to say the least of it, be a praise-worthy cause to 
 have a share in. And if these two nations (France and 
 England) are such faithful friends and allies, let them go 
 hand-in-hand in this great and good work ; it will be found 
 worthy of a nation's honour. Let, then, these two nations 
 commence overtures on the subject, and I venture to predict 
 the speedy and the happy issue, without the shedding of a 
 drop of blood. 
 
 See what Russia is doing of her own accord ; but do the 
 Southern States seem willing voluntarily to surrender? No. 
 Say not then, await the issue of this contest. There is no 
 time to be lost — throw some weight into the scale of Justice 
 and Humanity, for if this contest should terminate in a 
 round of filibluster, the work will have to be begun some 
 future day. 
 
 In conclusion, is it not inconsistent in England, to coun- 
 tenance Garibaldi in his achievements for political freedom in 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 Italy, while we stand aloof in the present crisis in America ? 
 I might say more — much more ; but I must hasten to sum up, 
 and henceforth I pronounce inertness in a nation tanta- 
 mount to actual guilt on the part of our rulers and their 
 
 people. 
 
 Theodore St. Bo'. 
 
 P.S. — I had written the foregoing as my preface, and sent 
 it to a friend for his opinion, to which I got the following 
 answer, in addition to a few other suggestions : — u If the 
 cotton mills of Lancashire and Lanarkshire could be ade- 
 quately supplied from other sources, the British Legislature 
 would not have let slip this golden opportunity of protesting 
 against the horrible traffic in the United States, which she 
 has sacrificed so much to abolish in her ow T n colonies." To 
 which 1 made the following rejoinder : — " The cotton mills 
 of Lancashire and Lanarkshire would be kept as full as ever, 
 because the same hands that w r orked in the cotton fields as 
 slaves, would work as free men and as hired servants, for 
 wages, the same as our agricultural labourers in this country, 
 only they would be at liberty to change their employers, 
 particularly where ill treated or ill remunerated. Moreover, 
 I do not think it would be fair to the proprietors, or judi- 
 cious for themselves, to abolish slavery at one fell swoop. 
 But suppose some such plan as this, — at once to grant free- 
 dom to all above a certain age, say thirty ; and three years 
 hence all above twenty -five ; three years after that, all above 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 twenty ; other three years, all at fifteen ; three years more 
 all at ten ; yet other three years all at five ; and — " last of 
 all the Mohicans,"— three years more and slavery is abol- 
 ished ! 
 
 Eighteen years, and the work progressing! would not the 
 philanthropic mind swell with delight at the bright prospect 
 of a period— a stated period — when the bondsman would be 
 free, and America herself truly a land of freedom ! 
 
 But the work I am laying out for England and France 
 
 would not stop here. Their legislators, after successfully 
 
 expostulating with America, with whom we have a right 
 
 first to interfere, on the ground of our national relationship, 
 
 would next turn their attention to Spain and Portugal, 
 
 doubtless with the same glorious results ; and so on, till 
 
 slavery was numbered among the things that were. But 
 
 our first great hope of success is with America, and all the 
 
 rest would follow, as a natural consequence ; for she in her 
 
 turn would be ranked as " one of ourselves," " Great, 
 
 Glorious, and Free !." 
 
 T. St. Bo\ 
 
 April 1861. 
 
granraiis ^mom. 
 
 MALE. 
 WILFRID, a Georgian Planter. 
 SWANSTON, Ms Overseer. 
 KIMBO, a Favourite Slave. 
 VELLUM, a Pettifogging Lawyer. 
 WILBERFORCE, Mary's Betrothed. 
 AUCTIONEER. 
 JEREMY DOODLE, a Hotel Keeper. 
 
 Slaves — Tanto, Sanco, Timbo, Nero, Dodo, Jaco, 
 
 Dido, Wappa, &c, &c. 
 
 Manager, Officers, Bloodhounds, &c. 
 
 FEMALE. 
 MARY, Wilfrid's Daughter. 
 
 Slaves— -Laura, Poza, &c, &c. 
 
WILFRID AND MARY 
 
 OR, 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 A DOMESTIC COMEDY 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 AMEEICAN SLAVE LIFE. 
 
 %tt jfirst 
 
 Scene I. — Georgia — Wilfrid's House — Wilfrid 
 and Mary — Enter Swanston. 
 
 Swan. What is to be done to morrow, master ? 
 We have finished that field of sugar-cane ; 
 And, if it please thee, I think we'd better 
 Begin to-morrow on the far-off field. 
 'Tis ripe — quite ripe, and very soon would spoil ; 
 So well require all hands a-stir at work. 
 
A WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 And 111 require another whip, you see ; 
 This one is worn to shreds — away to shreds. 
 That blasted lubber, Kimbo — the lubber 
 That he is ! —I caught him, the other day, 
 Helping to fill a black woman's basket. 
 But I made him yell — I made the lubber yell : 
 You'd think he was a demon out of hell ! 
 
 Mary {aside). Which is the demon, I should 
 like to know ? — 
 Is't him of ebony, or him of snow ? 
 
 Wilf. Well, Swanston, whatever you opine is best. 
 And, look ye, in the store-room you will find 
 Plenty more of these useful articles. 
 
 {Handling the old whip.') 
 But deal it sparingly on poor Kimbo : 
 He is a fine-looking fellow ; and, you know, 
 He rather is a favourite of mine. 
 
 Swan, {aside). That's the reason why I takes it 
 out of him. 
 {To Wilfrid.) Well, sir we'll start to-morrow, if 
 you please, 
 
ACT I. SCENE I. 5 
 
 On the far-off plantation. (Aside). By jabbers, 
 
 If I don't play up with them ! It's too far 
 
 Away from home for you to interfere ; 
 
 And by the holy crucifix, if I 
 
 Don t make them smart, may I never die. [Exit. 
 
 Mary. Father, what an ill-looking man that is ; 
 And what a fine-looking overseer 
 That is of Colonel Munro's, o'er the way. 
 
 Wilf. Yes ; but he's not so good an overseer 
 As our Mr Swanston. That is the man 
 To get the work performed. That man, at times — 
 At certain seasons of the year — can do — 
 That is, can make the niggers do — double 
 The work that Colonel Munro's overseer 
 Can possibly get out of his darkies. 
 
 Mary. Well, but father, if he overworks them, 
 You know that's very harsh and very cruel. 
 
 Wilf. Yes, that's true ; but 1 don't think that 
 of him. 
 
 Mary. father ! what is that I hear you say ? 
 Did I not hear you very much complain 
 
4 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Of his horrid treatment of poor Kimbo, 
 Not many days a-gone ? And now you see 
 Him, like a lion in the forest wild, 
 Whisking himself to fury on that slave — 
 That poor, yet gentle, innocent, poor boy ! 
 
 Wilf. Well, well, my child ; but what else can 
 I do? 
 I find fault, and caution him be gentle : 
 I can do no more. 
 
 Mary. Father, yes you can : 
 
 You can make a change. Endeavour to secure 
 A man possessed of feeling, — and humane, 
 Or undertake to manage your own farm. 
 
 Wilf. What say you, child ? Me manage my 
 own farm ! 
 I know nothing about crops or seasons, 
 The management of rice or sugar-cane. 
 Would you have me follow in the footsteps 
 Of that sentimental fool, Tom Clarkson, 
 Who sent adrift his valued overseer 
 For the paltry foolish satisfaction 
 
ACT I. SCENE I. 5 
 
 Of protecting a few slaves, mere niggers, 
 
 From his tryanny — alleged, imagined 
 
 Tyranny ; and then hurried on to ruin 
 
 By the mismanaging of his farm ? No, 
 
 No, child : a valuable overseer 
 
 Is far too precious to be parted with : 
 
 'Twould be the worst day's work I e'er performed. 
 
 Mary. Well, father, I'll not press the matter now, 
 But you yet may come to see your error. 
 (Aside.) Somehow that man so fills my heart with 
 
 terror 
 At his vile usage of that Black-a-moor. [Exit, 
 
 Wilf. She's not far wrong, I do begin to think : 
 And, bye and bye, at some more convenient 
 Season, I'll digest the matter over. 
 Meantime I must to market with my samples. 
 Here is my rice, my cotton, and tobacco. 
 
 (Taking up the samples.) 
 The interest on my mortgage is o'er-due, 
 Together with those twice renewed bills. 
 And when I'm in the town of Millidgeville, 
 
b WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 With that horrid screw-tight fellow, Vellum, 
 I must not fail to make some arrangement, 
 Or down he's on me like ten thousand bricks : 
 But what do they care though they sell your sticks ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Plantation. Vellum, with a bundle 
 of laic papers, as off a journey. 
 
 Vell. Well, here I am, near by the fine estate 
 Of Pascoevale, — a pretty name and place. 
 Hillo ! there's Swanston, Wilfrid's overseer, 
 Busy with his niggers in the cotton field. 
 Ill hail him — have a chat — and draw his leg ; 
 But here he comes. 
 
 Enter Swanston. 
 
 Well, Swanston, how are ye ? 
 Busy, I perceive, among the cotton. 
 How get ye on over so many niggers ? 
 You have no easy post to fill, I guess. 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. 7 
 
 Swan. Nothing, Mr Vellum, comes wrong to me. 
 I calculate I can make them niggers 
 Do whateer I want. I take no sauce, you see ; 
 That's my tarnation method, don't you know. 
 Work they must, or feel the balance of that fist ; 
 That's the way I reason with them lubbards. 
 
 Vell. Do you know what's up on this plantation? 
 Do you not know that Wilfrid's up the spout ? 
 
 Swan. Eh ! then dang my choker, I guessed as 
 much. 
 
 Vell. 'Tis true I tell you, Swanston. Now, 
 look here : 
 My eldest son wants be on his own hook, 
 And longs to be possessed of this estate. 
 Now, Swanston, I can make it worth your while 
 If you can let us into any wrinkle. 
 You know, head-quarters for all information 
 Is just, you see, to such a man as you — 
 No use going to consult the planter, 
 If to the overseer youVe access. 
 
 Swan. Many's the thing I could put you fly to ; 
 
8 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 But number one is the first law of nature. 
 I'm not so very badly off myself ; 
 For, while my master has been growing poor 
 Day by day, and year by year grown poorer, 
 Till at last, as I can gather from you, 
 He's about used up, IVe profited meanwhile, 
 And have been looking round about to see 
 Wherein and with advantage I'd invest. 
 
 Vell. I comprehend you. I can comprehend 
 The best thing possible both for my son 
 And you. I have it right slap off the reel. 
 I have it, sir, and faith I am delighted. 
 A joint co-partnery is just the thing. 
 What say you, Swanston ? What think ye of 
 that? 
 
 Swan. Well, sir, but then I would not have 
 enough 
 To take a half share in a large concern. 
 
 Vell. But never mind; suppose you take a 
 third? 
 My son, you see, knows nothing about crops ; 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. 9 
 
 He's a good accountant, penman, and the like. 
 You could manage one branch, him the other. 
 
 Swan. I'm your man. I am the very stingo ; 
 And although I say it, sir, as should not, 
 I'm a slap-up hand amongst the darkies. 
 A peal of thunder from one of these hard fists 
 Soon is followed by a flash of lightning 
 From the eye-balls of the biggest nigger. 
 
 Vell. Well, then, if we understand each other, 
 And the compact be matured hereafter, 
 What about the dodges and the wrinkles 
 That you can impart ? Time wears on apace, 
 And I would have thee free disclose thyself. 
 It almost hath passed into a proverb, 
 None can keep a secret like a lawyer. 
 
 Swan. Bye-and-bye, when the matters more 
 advanced, 
 111 tell thee of a secret that is worth 
 At least five hundred, — ay, a thousand dollars. 
 
 Vell. But, Swanston, that's not fair. Now is 
 the time 
 
10 WILFKID AND MAKY, 
 
 For you and I to make good use, you see, 
 
 Of any information we possess ; 
 
 And possibly you may not be aware 
 
 That things, just now, are hov'ring on a crisis. 
 
 Swan. All I'll tell you now, is just this one 
 thing, 
 Believe it then you may — Miss Wilfrid, 
 Though her face is pale as any lady's, 
 Not only is the daughter, but the slave, 
 Of her own father — likewise her master. 
 
 Vell. What ! Swanston, are you really sure of 
 that? 
 
 Swan. As certain as I know a pig eats peaches. 
 (Aside.) Or that another name for lawyer — leech is. 
 
 [Exit slowly. 
 
 Vell. Adieu, then, sir, I'll make the most of 
 that, 
 And, by the way, I must row your tail too. 
 Let me once catch you within the cob-web 
 Of that insignificant word, Law, 
 IH learn you the lesson — hold your jaw. [Exit 
 
ACT I. SCENE III. 11 
 
 Scene III. — Front of Wilfrid's House — Wil- 
 frid walking thoughtfully — Enter Kimbo. 
 
 Kim. Massa, massa, will you hear me speak — 
 complain 
 Ob massa Swanston, your oberseer ; 
 Him beat me so berry berry cruel, 
 Him hab brought de blood streaming down dis 
 
 back, 
 And gab me kick on de shin bone ; you see 
 Me lame, massa, and cannot hob along. 
 Oh ! him berry cruel, Massa Swanston ; 
 When him die, him go to a bad place. 
 
 Wilf. Well, but what have you been doing, 
 Kimbo ? 
 Some fault you have been in — of that I'm sure. 
 
 Kim. No, massa, no, massa ; him take dislike 
 To this here nigger ; him call me names, him swear — 
 Oh ! massa, him berry bad man to swear — 
 Him swear by Holy Moses, and him swear 
 
12 WILFKID AND MARY. 
 
 By Holy Crucifix — him swear by God. 
 
 Dis nigger hab not care if him hab swear 
 
 By de Debil, but to swear by all dem 
 
 Good names, make me tink him berry bad man. 
 
 Wilf. Well, Kimbo, my fine fellow, it strikes me 
 You seem to feel the truth of what you say. 
 But tell me, now, what have you been doing 
 To put Mr Swanston in a passion, 
 And cause him thus to beat and to abuse you ? 
 
 Kim. Oh ! massa, you not be berry angry ? 
 
 Wilf. Oh, no, Kimbo; tell me, fear not, Kimbo. 
 
 Kim. Oh, massa, me cannot tell you — me feared 
 You be berry angry, and punish me. 
 Dis nigger wish him hab not spoken to you. 
 
 Wilf. {angrily.) What is the matter fellow ? 
 have you been stealing ? 
 
 Kim. Oh no, massa ; you nebber know me steal. 
 
 Wilf. What, then ? speak, sirrah, or I will be 
 angry. 
 
 Kim. {frightened.) Oh ! massa, massa, him 
 cotch dis nigger {hesitating.) 
 
ACT I. SCENE III. 13 
 
 Wilf. He caught you/ what, you scoundrel? This 
 instant 
 Speak, or I will send for Mr Swanston, 
 And have thee flayed within an inch of thy 
 Existence. So speak, I tell thee, Kimbo. 
 
 Kim. Massa, you said you would not be angry. 
 Wilf. Neither will I, if you speak, and truth 
 
 abide. 
 Kim. Well, Massa Swanston cotched me with 
 dis book. 
 
 {Taking a Bible from under Ms garment.) 
 Him cotch me reading. Him berry angry 
 If him cotch any nigger try to read. 
 Wilf. Is that all, Kimbo, that he thrashed you 
 
 for? 
 Kim. No, massa, but him said him would burn it ; 
 Him took it from me, massa, and through fear 
 Him chuck it in de fire to blaze away 
 Like em tinder. Dis nigger cry, and say, 
 Me hab de mind to tell de Massa Wilfrid. 
 Just den him flew at me and knock me down, 
 
14 WILFKID AND MAKY 
 
 And beat me berry sore. Me got dis book 
 From Missis Wilfred just before she die. 
 Her said dis nigger should take care ob it 
 For her sake. Massa, dat is all de trut. 
 
 Wilf. From Mrs Wilfrid ! let me see the book. 
 
 (Taking it.) 
 What ! the Bible ! ! and with her hand of writ ! ! ! 
 " To poor Kimbo, from Mary Jean Wilfrid ! " 
 Tell me, Kimbo, when did you get this Book ? 
 
 Kim. Long time ago — long time ago, massa, 
 When me little boy and me indoor slave. 
 Her tell me pretty tales out ob dat book, 
 Her tell me to be good, and read dat book, 
 And many more good tings she said to me. 
 
 Wilf. {aside.) This touches me upon a tender 
 chord ! 
 {To Kimbo.) Well, Kimbo, after this I'll see to 
 
 you; 
 You shall no longer work in the open field, 
 111 find some other work for you to do. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 15 
 
 Kim. Tank you, massa ! Tank you, Massa Wil- 
 frid ! [Exit joyfully. 
 Wilf. This circumstance has come about so 
 strange 
 That I begin to wonder what will next 
 Appear upon this stage of slavish life. [Exit. 
 
 — <^~ 
 
 Scene IV.* — Wilfrid's House — Mary and 
 Wilfrid. 
 
 Mary. Be seated father, and if you please re- 
 hearse 
 That oft-repeated dream of dear Mamma ; 
 For it hath an influence on my mind 
 Approaching almost that of holy writ. 
 
 Wilf. Well, Mary, if it please thee, 111 e'en do 
 so : — 
 You were but young, and in your tender years, 
 
 * This Scene can be omitted in scenic representation. 
 
16 WILFKID AND MARY. 
 
 When she, your Mother, was call'd to that bourn, 
 That distant bourn from whence no traveller 
 Yet hath e'er returned to recount the tale. 
 You were but young and in your tender years, 
 And can't remember, but what I have told 
 Thee o'er and o'er a thousand times and more ; 
 And yet each time I tell that dream, it seems 
 To me as fresh and new as yesterday. 
 What a strange impression a simple dream 
 Can make upon the mind ! — 'tis passing strange, 
 And yet 'tis even so, and ever so. 
 You were but young, and in your tender years, 
 When she, your Mother, lay upon the bed, 
 In what we call our best — our easter room. 
 At morn — at early morn, she ope'd her eyes, 
 With what refulgent dignity and love, 
 'Twould fail me to describe, or e'en attempt ; 
 But Heaven was in her eye, and majesty 
 Sat blooming on her cheek — her glowing cheek ; 
 With grace she moved her hand and beckoned 
 me 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 17 
 
 Approach her dying bed to hear her dream.* 
 11 Start not, dear Wilfrid, I've a dream to tell ; 
 A dream of truth — no visionary dream. 
 Oh ! heaven grant me but words to tell it him ! " 
 She said, and paused a while. I never spoke. 
 11 See yonder, Wilfrid, and believe it true — 
 As true as if ye heard it from the dead, 
 From whom the truth some e'en would dare be- 
 lieve : 
 See yonder, Wilfrid, is the Majesty 
 On high, in robes resplendent, decked in white ; 
 At His right hand His majesty, the Prince 
 Of Peace ; and these His numerous host, a host 
 Of holy angels, surround the holy 
 Throne. And see yon long procession gliding 
 Slowly on t'appear before the holy 
 Throne, with downcast heads, to hear their final 
 Doom. These, then, Wilfrid, are the autocrats 
 
 * Milton hath it much more elevated and refined, but his sub- 
 ject was Mother Eve and an Epic Poem : — 
 
 " Grace was in her steps, heaven in her eye, 
 And every gesture dignity and love." 
 
 B 
 
18 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 From fair Virginia's land. With downcast 
 Heads theyre moving slowly past. The sentence 
 Is pronounced, and they have heard their utter 
 Doom, their everlasting, their eternal doom. 
 And see, again, approach that motley throng ; 
 Their heads erect, their placid looks behold. 
 From their complexion ye can tell theyre negroes, 
 Made white through the precious blood of the 
 
 Lamb 
 Of God — their great atoning sacrifice. 
 And see, about the centre of that throng, 
 A woman kneeling, weeping, and imploring. 
 That same is me ; yes, Wilfrid, that is me. 
 Start not, but hear me yet a little while : — 
 I see our daughter, too, among that throng, 
 Standing beside a tall, good-looking man. 
 That man's her husband, and they have two sons/' 
 " Our daughter is not married/' 1 remarked. 
 " No, no ! dear Wilfrid ; that is all to come : 
 And this is all to come — all yet to come ; 
 It is not yet — it is all yet to come. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 19 
 
 But, Wilfrid, you are not among the throng. 
 
 Nor did I see you in the company 
 
 Of those that passed before, — you are yet to come. 
 
 I've got my summons long preceding you ; 
 
 And now I go to intercede our Father — 
 
 Our almighty Father — on your behalf." 
 
 A gentle pressure of the hand was all 
 
 I felt or heard. She slept, nor waked again. 
 
 You were then young, and in your tender years. 
 
 Mary. What a most mysterious dream ! How 
 very 
 Strange ! 'Tis like a vision of the future ! 
 
 Wilf. She ever was a most remarkable, 
 But a thoughtful woman ! Many of her 
 Sayings trite I remember to this hour — 
 Alas ! alas ! that ye had ne'er been born. 
 
 Mary. What mean ye, Father ? would ye seek 
 to curse 
 The hour that gave me birth ? your own daughter? 
 Your ever fond, and dear impassioned daughter ? 
 
 Wilf. Oh ! my child, I cannot speak. 
 
 [Exit in great emotion. 
 
20 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Mary. Whatever 
 
 Can the reason be of his emotion ? 
 It sore distracts me — nor can I fathom, 
 No, no, I cannot fathom it at all. 
 Would that my mother still had been alive. 
 She was, I've heard, a very pious woman. 
 That was a singular — a passing strange, 
 A very striking circumstance, indeed, 
 Her dedicating of the Word of God 
 To that poor boy whom she christen d Kimbo. 
 Her heart was tender and must have been moved 
 Beyond what we wot of. And this I know, 
 All that a woman could do for these slaves 
 She did most feeling and persistingly — 
 That ever was the topic uppermost, — 
 " Emancipate — emancipate" — she'd say ; 
 And often she'd predict we'd all be lost 
 If father would not speedily relinquish 
 His every interest in that wicked calling 
 She boldly held to be dishonourable ; 
 " A blot," she used to say, upon his name, 
 
ACT I. SCENE V. ^l 
 
 " Disreputable, and disgrace to man." 
 
 And, very strange, I feel she was not wrong. 
 
 But I must haste see after my father, 
 
 Soothe and console him in his great emotion, 
 
 Some other time 111 renew the subject. 
 
 A woman lacks not what she undertakes ; 
 
 She's like a fairy spirit in whose hand 
 
 The staff of destiny is often swayed ; 
 
 Of whom, perchance, some truly are afraid, 
 
 But honourable men are ne'er dismayed. [Exit 
 
 Scene V. — Wilfrid's House. Wilfrid and 
 Vellum, with law papers, account boohs, &c. 
 
 Vell. Well, Mr Wilfrid, I've made out a list, 
 I think a pretty well corrected list, 
 Of all your property. There's first the farm, 
 And then the field-hands. I find you've ninety 
 Male, and you've forty-five female niggers. 
 Well, sir, these are very valuable ; 
 
22 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Then come your horses, cows, and hogs, and 
 
 ploughs, 
 Carriages, and waggons, and the in-door 
 Slaves, together with your first-rate pack of hounds. 
 Is this a valid — a correct account 
 Of all the property of which you are 
 Possessed, to meet this large amount of creditors ? 
 (Bef erring to a document in hand,) 
 
 Wilf. I can assure you, sir, all quite correct. 
 On oath, I have no other property ; 
 I've given a true and faithful rendering 
 Of all that in this world I possess — 
 Take all and satisfy my creditors. 
 
 Vell. Beg pardon, sir ; on looking at this list 
 Again, I do not see your housemaid's name. 
 
 Wilf. She is my daughter, sir. 
 
 Yell. True, but she is 
 
 Your property — your slave, you know, as well. 
 
 Wilf. (Aside.) Ah ! ha ! then he knows our 
 true position. 
 (With great emotion.) Oh ! what, what then shall 
 I contrive to say ? 
 
ACT I. SCENE V. 23 
 
 Vell. She's worth a thousand dollars, at the least, 
 Of yours, or mine, or anybody's money. 
 That's the sum exact you are deficient, 
 According to professional appraisement. 
 
 Well, sir, if you are willing, I will give 
 
 Enter Mary with a letter to Wilfrid. As she 
 retires, Vellum casts a lecherous look at her, 
 saying (aside), 
 Crackie bill ! what a stunning piece of goods ! 
 {To Wilfrid.) Well, sir, if you are willing, I will 
 
 give 
 That sum for her — say one thousand dollars. 
 {To the audience.) That's two hundred pounds of 
 
 British money. 
 {Turning to Wilfrid.) And then you'll be entirely 
 
 out of debt. 
 What say you, sir — what say you ? — say the word. 
 Wilf. No, sir ; no gold will ever purchase her ; 
 She is my daughter — mine own flesh and blood. 
 Vell. Pooh, pooh ! you must be reasoned out of 
 this. 
 
24 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 You know no respectable slave-owner — 
 Perhaps I ought to say respectable 
 Planter — in all Virginia, would think — 
 Even for a moment think — of owning 
 The mingled blood of his own self and slave. 
 Youll run a moral gauntlet on thyself, 
 And laughed be at by all the better sort 
 
 Wilf. Let them laugh. I cannot sell my nature, 
 Put a price upon my heart's affections ; 
 She is my child, and I am still her father. 
 
 Vell. Tut -tut-tut, my good sir ; reason, hear me : 
 I know a planter, a wealthy planter, 
 In the richest county of Virginia, 
 Who is the father of at least thirty 
 Or forty, or more, of his infant slaves ; 
 Some say of every infant that is born 
 On his large plantation. But then he treats 
 Them just as other slaves — works them in the 
 Field, or sells them to the highest bidder. 
 If he did otherwise, his character 
 Would be assailed by slander universal. 
 
ACT I. SCENE V. 25 
 
 Wilf. Your arguments avail me not. I'll never 
 Sell the blood of mine own veins— my only- 
 Darling, only child ; I love her far too well. 
 
 Vell. Well, sir, I see there's nothing for it, 
 But get a Sheriff's order — have her seized, 
 And sold upon the auction block. And when 
 You hear she's been knocked down at certain price — 
 Say to the highest bidder — you will wish, 
 You then will wish, you'd made a private sale. 
 However, you must soon make up your mind. 
 I go, and quickly will return, I hope, 
 To find you more susceptible of reason — 
 As fruit is only ripe when in due season. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Wilf. Ha ! that thought, till now it never struck 
 me, 
 That, if they will, she can be sold by auction ; 
 Nor for a moment will I doubt their will. 
 Perhaps it might be better after all, 
 A private sale — t' effect a private sale, 
 I'd know then in whose possession was she. 
 
2fi WILFRID AND MART. 
 
 Hard laws— yet such is still the law. Justice 
 Cries aloud, redress these wrongs — redress these 
 Laws. Shall justice and mercy plead in vain 
 Against " man's inhumanity to man ?" 
 Oh, for my past obliquity of vision ! 
 I own my worst atrocities bygone, 
 I own, because I never saw or felt 
 Till now, my past injustice to the rights 
 Of human nature. Just punishment, on 
 Me it falls like molten lead upon a 
 Tender skin. Oh ! could I undo the past, 
 I would undo it all, and never deal 
 Again in human barter, flesh and blood ! 
 E'en as my very self. Oh, horrid crime ! 
 But what is to be done ? that's the question 
 For me now to decide. I can never think 
 To have my daughter ever sold by auction ; 
 Perhaps to work her in the open field, 
 Beneath a broiling sun ; or, what is worse, 
 Be lashed as I have seen them lashed, 
 And I've looked on, and participated in. 
 
ACT I. SCENE V. 27 
 
 Oh, to recall the past as though it ne'er 
 Had been ! but that's impossible — 'tis done ! 
 Enter Vellum. 
 
 Yell. I've just been out giving some directions 
 To the bailiffs in possession. To sell, 
 I hope you now, sir, have made up your mind ; 
 Time's wearing on, and I can t tarry long. 
 
 Wilf. Well, sir, you've found me in an awk- 
 ward fix, 
 To my sad grief I find I am so placed, 
 I've no alternative than sell my daughter — 
 But this, I ask, you'll never part with her, 
 And that to her you will be ever kind, 
 Grant a few days e'er I give up possession, 
 And she is yours at the thousand dollars, 
 {Aside.) And 111 betake me to some distant land. 
 
 Vell. Agreed. Then, sir, there's the ready rhino. 
 
 [Exit Wilfrid. 
 I'm a lucky man, I am, by jingo, 
 She will be my doxy, and I her joe. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
28 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Scene VI. — Wilfrid walking in front of his 
 House, under a Verandah, soliloquising, 
 
 Wilf. This, of all the pangs, the heart-rending 
 pangs, 
 A man's heart, or a father's, e'er endured, 
 Surpasses all I ever knew or felt. 
 'Tis more than I can do, — I never can, 
 Alas ! alas ! I never can reveal 
 The horrid truth, the circumstantial fact, 
 That she, my only daughter, is a slave. 
 I'm sure no such humiliating thought 
 Ever entered her upheaving bosom, 
 To ripple or disturb the peaceful stream 
 Of pleasure onward in her life's journey. 
 And worse than slave, a mere commodity 
 Of merchandise — opprobrious merchandise. 
 It wrings my very soul in its own casement 
 To think we live and breathe, inhale such laws ; 
 And I've participated my life long, 
 
ACT I. SCENE VII. 29 
 
 And thought they were such good and wholesome 
 
 laws ! 
 
 And all for filthy, greedy, sordid gain, 
 
 The gold that perisheth, or taketh wing. 
 
 Upbraiding conscience has the keenest sting. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Scene VII. — Boom in Wilfrid's House. Fine 
 view of Garden from window, witli delicious 
 fruit. Wilfrid and Mary. 
 
 Wilf. Come here, my child ; I Ve something to 
 reveal. 
 You Ve oft heard me say I loved your mother. 
 
 Mary. Oh, yes, father ; IVe oft heard you say so ; 
 And rest assured, I never doubted it. 
 
 Wilf. You also know, my Mary, I love you, 
 Both for your mother's, and for your own sake. 
 
 Mary. Yes, Father, I am well assured of that. 
 
 Wilf. But you know that we were never mar- 
 ried; 
 
30 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 That in Georgia the laws recognise 
 No marriages as legal 'twixt the white 
 Eace and the negro, or the quadroon race ; 
 And that, remember, whether bond or free. 
 Now, your mother, good creature as she was, 
 Could, and did, boast noble blood swelling and 
 
 coursing 
 Throughout her every vein ; and it was true — 
 No less than true, she was of high descent. 
 But, let me add, your mother was a slave ; 
 I loved her though she was my concubine 
 And slave ; and left in you, my only child, 
 The darling image of herself. But now 
 All that is gone, and I'm to be bereft, 
 Bereft of all the solace of my heart. 
 Thou art, and since thy birth hast been, a slave : 
 The laws of this our Georgia hold it so. 
 But now, thou rt sold, not willingly by me. 
 To save thee from a public sale, a sale 
 By auction, I have sold thee privately. 
 Mary. Father, Father, you mean not what you say. 
 
ACT I. SCENE VII. 31 
 
 I protest — protest you're mad ever once, 
 To say, far less to think, what you have said 
 Is true. 
 
 Wilf. Alas ! alas ! my child, too true. 
 
 Mary. A slave ! Then am I doomed, my life 
 long doomed, 
 To chains — to drudgery — and slavery ? 
 Oh ! what a mighty cloud — an avalanch 
 Of grief, and sorrow, misery, and woe, 
 Bursts in upon my frenzied brain, if this 
 Be really true. Oh, no, he surely raves ; 
 I've seen him looking ill this day or two. 
 There must be cause for this — some disorder 
 Of the body frame — or possibly the mind. 
 I'll make haste, send for his favourite surgeon, 
 And if timely ta'en he may recover. 
 
 {Rings a bell for servants.) 
 
 Wtlf. Bing not that bell, my Mary, ring it not ; 
 I'm sound enough in body and in mind ; 
 But this is what so wrings my very soul, 
 To think that you and I are to be severed, 
 
32 WILFRID AND MARV. 
 
 Once and for ever to be widely severed. 
 
 Know, then, henceforth, that I'm a ruined planter, 
 
 And now I reap mine own iniquity. 
 
 I Ve sown the seeds and now I eat the fruit, 
 
 And bitter, bitter is the taste thereof. 
 
 I met misfortune, and I ne'er complained, 
 
 Misfortune followed thick upon misfortune, 
 
 And I never frowned, murmured, or complained, 
 
 Till now, I have to meet my creditors, 
 
 And yield up all, and Mary, thee with all. 
 
 You saw their lawyer here the other day, 
 
 He prevailed on me to sell thee privately, 
 
 To save thee from exposure publicly, 
 
 I asked indulgence but for seven days, 
 
 Ere that I should yield him up possession. 
 
 For a thousand dollars he hath purchased you. 
 
 (She shrieks, faints, falls on the ground. Enter 
 two female niggers, one to support Mary the 
 other Wilfrid.) 
 
 1st Nig. Missa, Missa ! who hab kill my Missa? 
 
ACT I. SCENE III. 33 
 
 2d Nig. Massa, Massa, what hab been de 
 
 raatta ? 
 Wilf. What is this I've done ? laid her in the 
 dust ? 
 Oh, would to God that she had ne'er been born ! 
 {Curtain falls slowly.) 
 
 End of Act I. 
 
34 WILFRID AND MART. 
 
 %d Sbtzavfo 
 
 Scene I. — Mary soliloquising. 
 
 Mary. How came I then to reproach my father ? 
 How can I upbraid so good a father ? 
 Tis not within the pale of his dear will 
 To make it otherwise, I know that well. 
 In every sense he's proved himself a parent, 
 True and faithful to his only daughter. 
 Against the law, the vile and wicked law , 
 That prohibits every slave's tuition, 
 He conferred on me the best of education, 
 At the risk of imprisonment and fine ; 
 He did this, and far more than this, for me. 
 How then would I presume to chide my father ? 
 It is the base aggressive corrupt law, 
 
 
ACT II. SCENE I. 35 
 
 The law denominated ' Fugitive/ 
 That prevents him from some decided step. 
 But will it prevent me ? that's my next thought. 
 Seven days — what can be done in seven days ? 
 This is no time for me remain inert, 
 Or yield me up to sad dispair, become 
 Morose and grieved, and weep in melancholy ; 
 Nay 'tis the very time bestir myself, 
 Put my native, my in-born, a woman's 
 Ingenuity to work, and devise 
 Some plan t'evade or otherwise escape 
 The meshes of a Vellum for my master. 
 If I can read that villan's inward thoughts, 
 I am no woman, but degraded slave. 
 Bestir me then, each sinew in my frame, 
 Each bone, each muscle ; ay, and every nerve 
 Bestir thee, and prepare to do your work. 
 But stay, as yet I have devised no plan — 
 How very weak is woman in her schemes ! 
 What shall I do ? And then I am betrothed 
 To Wilberforce. What will become of him 
 
36 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 When I've devised some method of escape ? 
 Can I forsake him too ? Oh, what a thought ! 
 I am perplexed — in sore perplexity. 
 My father knows not that we are betrothed ; 
 This was my only charming little secret 
 That I e'er ventured to conceal from him. 
 What, then, if I appealed to Wilberforce— 
 Made him acquainted with my true position ? 
 But, is not that a strange court of appeal ? 
 Methinks he is no Justice of the Peace ; 
 And yet methinks his jurisdiction, still 
 Higher, does preside in my peculiar case. 
 Strange wayward thoughts fleet thick across my 
 
 brain ; 
 I will, in desperation, go to him, 
 Crave his advice, or his intercession, 
 To save his own dear Mary from her shame. 
 Til conjure up my greatest, worst alarms, 
 And plead my cause, nor fear to plead in vain. 
 His arm is strong, his heart is stronger still, 
 Though tender, soft and warm ; and his judgment 
 
 i 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 37 
 
 I have ever found clear and decisive. 
 
 I'll to him speed and plead a woman's cause ; 
 
 How best, a slave, I may evade these laws. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — Wilberforce's House — Wilber- 
 force. Enter Mary. 
 
 Mary. Forgive me, Wilberforce, oh ! pray for- 
 give, 
 If I bring tidings sad enough to both. 
 How little did we think when you and I 
 Took on ourselves our mutual pledge, 
 And plighted one another's hearts for aye, 
 That matters ever would assume the aspect 
 Now they bear. But now, I bring thee tidings 
 Of my father's and my sad misfortunes. 
 Sad misfortune — worldly misfortune, 
 Hath o'erta'en my father. He is bankrupt, 
 And hath surrendered up his property, 
 
38 WILFRID AND MARY 
 
 His all, and me, to meet his creditors. 
 
 Wilb. And you ? What mean you Mary ? 
 Are you mad, 
 Or mean to trifle with my heart's affections ? 
 Oh, Mary ! did I think it possible 
 You could be guilty thus to trifle with 
 A heart that loves, and knows no other love ! 
 
 Mary. Oh, Wilberforce ! dear, kind, good Wil- 
 berforce ! 
 I have but ascertained I am a slave, 
 And that my father has disposed of me, 
 His only child, his lawful debts to pay, 
 So that by private barter IVe been sold. 
 
 {Mary falls on a couch) 
 
 Wilb. Whatever's this I hear from one I love 
 With such unbounded love ! Oh, Heaven ! Just 
 
 Heaven ! 
 Come to mine aid — be thou my chief support. 
 What ! bankrupt, and sold his only daughter ! 
 Oh the brute — for what else can I call him ? 
 I never took him for the man he is. 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 39 
 
 Ne'er will I own him for my lawful father. 
 Brute, monster, fiend, and inhuman devil, 
 Fit only to be cast into the flame 
 Of fire and brimstone. Oh ! shame, eternal 
 Shame, ever rest upon the name of Wilfrid ! 
 
 Mary. Hold, Wilberforce ! call not my father 
 devil, 
 Fiend, brute, or inhuman monster. You wrong 
 My beloved father. — Tis not his fault, 
 "lis by my mother's heritage I am 
 A slave, and his misfortune that I have 
 Been sold as part and parcel of his goods 
 And chattels — transferable property. 
 You little know the grief, the bitter anguish 
 Of my father's heart : he's pining to a 
 Shadow, and already grey with sorrow. 
 I came not, Wilberforce, to hear thee curse, 
 Reproach, and vilify my father ; nor 
 Will I hear thee wrong so good a father. 
 
 Wilb. Mary, you bewilder me, astound me. 
 A thunderbolt from the avenging heaven 
 
40 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Would not so much appal this mortal frame, 
 And leave me more perplexed what do or think. 
 Mary. I came to crave thy counsel and advice, 
 How I should act— what part I ought to play 
 In my dilemma and sad situation. 
 I am within the thraldom of the law, 
 And my father that of his creditors. 
 Hitherto I thought I'd thee to look to, 
 And none else. And oh, Wilberforce ! dear, kind, 
 Good Wilberforce ! thou art the only man 
 To whom I thought I could resort — on whom rely. 
 Centred in thee was all my future joy, 
 My future welfare ; and my happiness 
 From day to (fey was centred all in thee. 
 Can'st thou not save me, Wilberforce, — rescue 
 Your own dear Mary from her shame ; transport 
 Me from the land that gave me birth, to breathe 
 The invigorating air of liberty. 
 I cannot breathe in such a pestilence 
 As slavery — vile, wicked slavery. 
 To me 'tis like a dungeon or a pit, 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 41 
 
 A loathsome cavern, whose atmosphere 
 Breathes only lingering and degrading death. 
 Speak, Wilberforce, for mine ears are tingling, 
 With anxious thoughts, to hear what thou wilt say. 
 What shall I hear from one I love so dear ? 
 
 (She falls prostrate. Wilberforce wiping her 
 eyes, and raising her tenderly.) 
 
 Wilb. Weep not, Mary ; put thy repose in me. 
 Arise, I will save thee, my dear Mary — 
 Save thee from thy inevitable fate ; 
 From thy impending doom I will save thee. 
 
 Mary. (More to the audience) Oh, Wilber- 
 force ! all honour to thy name, 
 Thy fame, glory, and immortality ! 
 For this thy boon to ransomed slavery ! 
 
 Wilb. How, then, shall I achieve what I have 
 said? 
 How shall I perform what I have promised ? 
 Some things are easier promised than performed : 
 That's a maxim in the best philosophy. 
 But this is no time to stand and moralise ; 
 
42 WILFRID AND MARY 
 
 Time is on the wing, and it must be done. — 
 Go, Mary, and make haste — my words attend — 
 Get thee arrayed in man's attire, denude 
 Thee of thy flowing locks, though hard to bear ; 
 Thou know'st how great the danger of escape, 
 How great the risk I run, as well as thee. 
 Bethink thee, then, of thy most secret plans, 
 While I, too, shall assume disguise, and quit, 
 For ever quit, this horrid land of blood. 
 
 Mary. Where, then, Wilberforce, do you pro- 
 pose to flee ? 
 Wilb. Why, to the city of Cincinnati, 
 In the far-off State of Ohio, where 
 Slaves are scarce, and slavery little known. 
 
 Mary. What ! a distance of full six hundred 
 miles, 
 And leave my father, too, so far behind ! 
 
 Wilb. Not so, Mary, let me bethink again ; 
 Nay, nay, it will never do to leave him, 
 A wreck of misery, so far behind ; 
 He, too, shall share our fate, let it be good 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 43 
 
 Or bad. Ill go, apprise him of our scheme, 
 Gain his approval, and ask his consent 
 To our after union, should we but succeed. 
 
 Mary. Oh, Wilberforce, thou art the best of men ! 
 Grant Heavens blessing may attend thy efforts. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. — Negro's hut — a miserable hovel. Men, 
 women, and children (slaves), some jet- 
 black, others pure ichite, with all the inter- 
 mediate shades of complexion, some sit- 
 ting on logs, others outstretched on the bare 
 ground, dec, die. 
 
 Enter Tanto singing and dancing. 
 
 Tant. Chicki chick chick alari, 
 Chick chick chick chick chick chick chick, 
 Chicki chick chick alari, 
 Chick chick chick chick chick ! 
 
 Laura. You be berry happy nigger, Tanto. 
 
44 
 
 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Tant. And what for no dis nigger not be gay ? 
 De wedder's fine, and dis nigger s spirit 
 Light as de fedder carried by de win' ! 
 
 Laura. Den, Tanto, me am not so gay ob heart ; 
 De berry bad news dat me hear to-day 
 Make me so berry hebby at de heart. 
 
 Tant. Tob, nonsense; you am al'ays looking 
 out 
 For de mischief what 'em call misfortune, 
 Den off you go a journey meet half way — 
 Dis nigger quiet wait de ebbil day, 
 Dat am what de Methodis pa'son say. 
 
 Laura. Dat day be not far off, ib all be true 
 Dat me hab heard dis berry blessed day. 
 
 Tant. Den tell dis nigger what am dat you mean ; 
 You speak em parable me no conip'ehen'. 
 
 Poza. Oh, you 'tupid nigger. Hab you not heard 
 Dat all de niggers on dis plantation 
 Am soon to be sold, and dat Miss Wilfrid 
 Am eider sold, or to be sold wid us, 
 For somebody hab found out she am a slave. 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 45 
 
 Tant. {Laughing.) Yah, yah, yah, dat be one 
 berry good joke. 
 But sin' you tink poke fun at dis nigger, 
 Me hab a mind to gib you my last pun. 
 
 Sanc. Dats right, Tanto, gib us one ob your 
 puns, 
 Or, what am better, your best conundrum. 
 
 Tant. Where am de candle when Moses am out ? 
 lb you can guess me dat guess, dis nigger 
 Nebber gib anodder guess all him life. 
 
 Nero. Where am de candle when Moses am out ? 
 
 Tant. Yes, you bull-head, can t you guess me 
 dat guess ? 
 
 Timb. In 'im pocket ? 
 
 Tant. No. 
 
 Sanc. In ? im socket ? 
 
 Tant. No. 
 
 Poza. I gibs it up. 
 
 Timb. I'm out. 
 
 Sanc. I gibs it up. 
 
 Tant. It am in de cla'k. 
 
46 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Timb. It am in de diik ! 
 
 Dis blessed nigger hab not see de point, 
 
 Poza. Oh, you 'tupid. lb heard dat guess befoa — 
 Where am Moses when de candle am out ? 
 
 (All laughing at Tanto, yah, yah, yah, yah, yah 7 
 
 yah, yah, yah, yah) 
 Tant. Yes, yes, dat war what I mean. — Berry 
 well, 
 All cats are said to be grey in de da'k, 
 Den all de white ladies must be da'kies 
 When de candle am put out. See de point ? (with 
 a knowing look.) 
 
 (All laughing, yah, yah, yah.) 
 1st Nig. Berry good joke. 
 2d Nig. Capitukle. 
 
 3d Nig. Fust-rate. 
 
 Timb. Now, Tanto, gib us a song apter dat, 
 One ob your own — you am a fust-rate poet, 
 111 play de bones, and here's your oY banjo. 
 
 (Song by Tanto.) 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 47 
 
 YUCKAN DANAH/ 
 
 J. 
 
 De gal I lub be tall an' ban some, 
 Tall an' han some, 
 Wid de sparkling jet-black eye. 
 And when she smile, she smile so winsome, 
 
 Smile so winsome, 
 I abmire her modesty. — (bones.) 
 When she and me go walking, courting, 
 
 Walking, courting, 
 Me take her round de waist jist so, 
 Smack her lips so sweet and pouting, 
 
 Sweet and pouting, 
 Den me strike up de old banjo — 
 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah, 
 Yuckan Danah, Yuckan Danah 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah. 
 
 2. 
 
 One day we walked by de Alatamaha, 
 Alatamaha, 
 
48 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 " What ab you tinking, lub," said she, 
 " Jist dat you war my lub for eber, 
 
 Lub for eber, 
 An ? back aden to Tennessee." — (bones.) 
 " La ! dat war jist what I war tinking, 
 
 I war tinking/' 
 So modestly she did reply, — 
 " Den, ib you hab no great objection, 
 
 Great objection, 
 Our hearts well join in unity." 
 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah, &c. 
 
 3. 
 
 " Wid all my heart, I am agreed lub, 
 
 Am agreed lub, 
 But fust our freedom we must buy." 
 So now an ? den I go a strolling, 
 
 Go a strolling, 
 An' sing dis song to raise money. — {bones.) 
 Den when we hab got plenty dollars, 
 
 Plenty dollars, 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 4ii 
 
 We'll get married right joyously, 
 An' lib so happy all our life-long, 
 All our life-long — 
 What tink you ob my minstrelsy ? 
 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah, &c. 
 4. 
 Ethiopian serenaders, 
 
 Serenaders, 
 Ab not such fools as you suppose, 
 For dey hab hearts to feel what lub is, 
 
 Feel what lub is, 
 As well as eyes, an' mouth, an' nose. — (bones.) 
 So all you white men who tink diff 'rent, 
 
 Who tink diff rent, 
 Put dat in your long pipe and smoke, 
 Dis nigger tell you berry plainly, 
 
 Berry plainly — 
 Dat Slabery is past a joke. 
 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah, 
 Yuckan Danah, Yuckan Danah, 
 Oh ! my lubly Yuckan Danah." 
 
50 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Dodo. Murrigingo, murrigingo, ebeiy 
 one cry. 
 
 Several. Murrigingo, murrigingo. 
 
 Sanco. You am a born real live living poet, 
 Me go tell de rest what dussent know it. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Poza. Him ? s a berry clibber man at is ? im. 
 
 Time. Tip us anodder, Tanto, ob de same. 
 
 Tant. Tub, dob, what for bodder dis nigger so ; 
 Der Dodo, Nero, and Jaco, dey sing 
 As well and betta dan dis nigger Tanto. 
 
 Timb. Come den, Jaco, Tanto say dat you sing, 
 Gib us one verse or two on Massa Swanston. 
 
 (Jaco sings and dances.) 
 
 Claudi kitchen, young folk, auld folk, 
 Claudi kitchen, young folk, auld folk, 
 Claudi kitchen, young folk, auld folk, 
 
 Kiking up a debil ob a tyro. 
 
 Kiking up a debil ob a tyro. 
 
 When Massa Swanston he do come, 
 
ACT II. SCENE IV. 51 
 
 Wid him big fist beat him drum, 
 Dis nigger jump you see jist so, 
 Dat's de way to ease him blow. 
 
 Claudi kitchen, young folk, auld folk, &c. 
 
 When at de meeting Methodis, 
 Him pull long face jist like dis, 
 Dis nigger like to ha, ha, ha, 
 Join de chorus, yah, yah, yah. 
 
 Claudi kitchen, young folk, auld folk, &c. 
 (Swanston's voice from without) 
 Swan. Hallo, there ! Turn out all you damned 
 niggers, 
 Time's up — you're all two minutes past your time. 
 
 [Exeunt in confusion. 
 
 Scene IV.— Boom in Wilfrid's House — 
 Wilfrid — Enter Wilberforce. 
 
 Wilb. Good morrow, Wilfrid, be not much 
 surprised 
 
52 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 When I acquaint thee that I've heard tidings 
 Of a peculiar and affecting kind — 
 To me especially, but to us both — 
 Our interests are so very near akin. 
 
 Wilf. I cannot comprehend thee, sir. Thy 
 
 meaning ? 
 Wilb. Well, sir, to be plain, I and thy daughter 
 Plighted one another's love — and now I come 
 To ask will ye consent ? 
 
 Wilf. My daughter, sir, 
 
 Is gone from home, and I should see her first ; 
 She's on a lady visit, as she said, 
 And I don't expect her soon. What is more, 
 I wish I'd known of this ere now. I would 
 Not willingly deceive thee sir. Know, then, 
 I have no portion to bestow my daughter. 
 
 Wilb. Of that I care not, Wilfrid. I've enough 
 Of dowry in your daughter's heart. She's mine. 
 Wilf. Stay, sir, that is not all. I'd have thee 
 learn 
 That I no longer am a wealthy planter, 
 
ACT II. SCENE IV. 53 
 
 But a ruined man — yea ! a ruined man, 
 In more ways than one. Thou canst do better 
 Than connect thyself with Mary Wilfrid. 
 We've fallen from our high estate ; and now 
 We must submit to our mean condition. 
 
 Wilb. Twas not for wealth I sued your only 
 daughter ; 
 That need be no obstruction to our union. 
 I urge thee, Wilfrid, grant then thy consent. 
 
 Wilf. That cannot be sir. That cannot ever be, 
 I need not hesitate to tell thee sir, 
 The matter will get wind in spite of me ; 
 Therefore, I assure you that my daughter 
 Is not marriageable to a white man. 
 She is a slave, and I reluctantly 
 Have had to sell her to a Mr Vellum. 
 
 Wilb. What ! to that monster of iniquity ! 
 Oh, Heavens ! thanks be to goodness IVe been 
 
 raised 
 By Providence to save her utter rain ! 
 That is the vilest wretch that crawls upon 
 
54 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 God's earth, a wicked wilful deceiver, 
 A debauchee and a vile seducer. 
 
 Wilf. What ! say you so ? Oh, then he's pur- 
 chased her 
 For his base purposes. Could I rescind, 
 Would I not be justified if I should 
 Abrogate that wicked servile contract ? 
 Oh ! Wilberforce, I fear she is undone, 
 I have accepted of the thousand dollars — 
 A ruined father and a ruined daughter ! 
 
 (Weeping.) 
 
 Wilb. Cheer up, old man — I have a deep laid 
 plan ; 
 I knew all — the. worst, ere I came hither, 
 And that too from your own dear Mary's lips. 
 Now I have found thee honest and upright, 
 Neither duplicity nor servility 
 Hath marked thy conduct — so give ear — attend. 
 Your daughter Mary, and my future wife, 
 Hath planned with me a speedy method of escape 
 Beyond the latitude of slavery, 
 
ACT II. SCENE IV. 56 
 
 That once achieved, we then are man and wife. 
 Now, sir, I wait but thy consenting word, 
 Thy approving glance — thy approving smile. 
 
 Wilf. With all my heart — there is my honest 
 hand, 
 I hope to see you in that distant land. (Going.) 
 
 Wilb. Stay father — for so I now address thee ; 
 It is my suggestion you should join us ; 
 Two is always a suspicious number, 
 And I have been deputed in this mission. 
 
 Wilf. Stay till she return. I must consult her. 
 
 Wilb. At my instructions she will ne'er return. 
 
 Wilf. Where is she then, dost thou know, Wil- 
 berforce ? 
 
 Wilb. She's at my residence, getting arrayed 
 In mans attire — by that means we escape — 
 She as a groom — you my overseer. 
 
 Wilf. Well, well, well, this fairly takes my 
 fancy, 
 I will accompany you and my daughter. 
 
 Wilb. This very evening, then, at dusk we start, 
 
56 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 And see that you be properly equipped. 
 
 Wilf. And is it possible we could take Kinibo ? 
 
 Wilb. Nay, Father, that might conduct to mis- 
 chief, 
 But Fll leave instructions with my brother 
 To purchase him, no matter at what price, 
 And he will send him on to us hereafter. 
 
 Wilf. A truce then, sir, I will be at my post,"^] 
 We then will see who has just cause to boast, — } 
 Who personates their character the most. J 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Auctioneer with Palmetto hat on, and 
 rattan in hand — concourse of attendants (pur- 
 chasers) — Slaves, young and old, some of 
 them chained in pairs, die,, &c, dec. — Auction 
 bell rings. 
 
 Auct. These, gemm'en, are the articles of sale, 
 And the terms, you see, are very liVral ; 
 
ACT II. SCENE V. 5 1 
 
 Cash down on the nail, on fall of hammer : 
 
 The usual terms, in short, that are observed 
 
 In all estates when in insolvency. 
 
 So now, you see, they must and shall be sold. 
 
 Well, then, gemm en, here's the first — a spicy 
 
 Lot o' niggers, as I have ever sold. 
 
 Come go in then, gemm'en, and make a bid ; 
 
 Look alive, and start them at your own price. 
 
 1st Pur. I'll give two hundred dollars for the lot. 
 
 Auct. By4he-ever-living-jumping-Moses ! 
 Did any of you ever hear the like ? 
 Two hundred dollars is the highest bid ; 
 What say you, gentlemen, all done— going — 
 Going at two hundred dollars — going — gone ! 
 You've got a bargain Mr John Nathan. 
 Well, gemm'en, the next lot is a prime gal : 
 She is A 1, as our Sam Slick would say. 
 
 2d Pur. Is that the gal that did absquatulate, 
 And got a jolly good anointing for't ? 
 
 Auct. You're a nice babe ; we want no rowdies 
 here. 
 
58 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 This is a fair and open sale without 
 Your stultifying tongue and ugly speech ; 
 It's not your lip — your tin is what we want. 
 
 3d Pur. Shut-up your bully-ragging and pro- 
 ceed. 
 Ill give ninety dollars for that nigger — 
 Gol-darn me if I hereafter rue it. 
 
 Auct. Tin brown to you, my boy, you are a pal 
 Of that 7 ere bosh-man, that has spoken last. 
 Dont think yell buy this chicken cheap as dirt ; 
 Nantee palaver all ye low knock-outs. 
 
 4th Pur. Ill give a hundred dollars. 
 
 Auct. Thank you, sir. 
 
 Going, gemm'en, at one hundred dollars, 
 
 5th Pur. A hundred and twenty dollars. 
 
 6th Pur. And fifty. 
 
 Auct. One hundred and fifty dollars — all done ? 
 Going — a mighty sacrifice — she's gone! 
 You lost that bargain, Mr Washington. 
 Next lot, gemm'en, is the last one's mother. 
 John Nathan, I'd advise you buy this lot, 
 
ACT II. SCENE V. 59 
 
 They'll work together well, you may be sure, 
 Mother and child. 
 
 ( The old nigger looks stupid ivith anxiety for 
 the party who bought her daughter to pur- 
 chase her also.) 
 
 Mount the block, you nigger, (giving her 
 a slap with the rattan, and she springs up.) 
 Old Nig. Massa, buy me too — me work berry 
 
 hard (crying and much affected.) 
 Young Nig. Lor ha' marcy, massa, buy my 
 mudder, 
 Night and day well work to be togedder (crying 
 and affected.) 
 Auct. Fine glossy skin — no bad looking nigger, 
 Young enough to breed from. (slave ivhimpers.) 
 
 Hold your blubber. 
 (striking her smartly, at ivhich she springs off the 
 
 block — remounts — looking ivistfully.) 
 Young enough to breed from, gemm'en. Start 
 her. 
 1st Pur. Ill give fifty dollars. 
 
fiO WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 2d Pur. Sixty dollars. 
 
 Auct. Thank you. 
 
 1st Pur. Seventy dollars. 
 
 2d Pur. Eighty dollars. 
 
 1st Pur. A hundred dollars. 
 
 Auct. A hundred dollars. 
 
 All done gemm'en at a hundred dollars ? 
 She's cheap as horse-flesh at a hundred dollars. 
 She might have five or six kids yet, 111 warrant. 
 Going at a hundred dollars — all done ? 
 Once, twice, thrice, gone at a hundred dollars. 
 You lost that lot, John Nathan, for your pains ; 
 I thought you were a go-a-head fellow, 
 Now I find you're but a skulking hugger. 
 {The two niggers , whining and whimpering, are 
 
 removed.) 
 Now gemm'en here is a mixed lot often, 
 He ones and she ones, young and old to suit 
 Convenience of purchasers. There is 
 Great variety — a well assorted lot 
 And first-rate niggers, as you all may judge. 
 
ACT II. SCENE V. i][ 
 
 (Purchasers examining if lame and otherwise 
 sound in health.) 
 Oh yes, quite right, put them through their fac- 
 ings ; 
 There is no buying pigs in pocks in our land, 
 A custom that's confined to Caledonia ; 
 They're real live niggers, and right lively too. 
 
 (Whipping them about, and they jumping up 
 and down.) 
 There you see blood, bone, and muscle — beauty, 
 Youth, symmetry, and all that you could wish, 
 Favour me, then, gentlemen with your bid. 
 It's well known Mr Wilfrid never kept 
 A lazy, saucy, or a useless nigger ; 
 Fm told he had too stern an overseer 
 To put up with that — albeit there they are, 
 Inspect them— judge for yourselves, and start 
 
 them, 
 Start them — shall I say a thousand dollars ? 
 That's but a small sum for ten such niggers. 
 
 1st Pur. A thousand dollars. 
 
62 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Auct. A thousand dollars, 
 
 Thank you, Monsieur, for one thousand dollars, 
 One thousand 
 
 2d Pur. Eleven hundred dollars. 
 
 Auct. Thank you sir, eleven hundred dollars ; 
 Its against you, Monsieur. Take my advice, 
 Don t loose them — there's a princely fortune here, 
 They'll multiply themselves ten fold ere long, 
 Thank you ! — twelve hundred dollars — twelve 
 
 hundred — 
 Thirteen hundred dollars. I've heard it said 
 That " opposition gives opinion strength : " 
 Nothing like a little competition. 
 Thirteen hundred — fourteen hundred dollars — 
 Fourteen hundred dollars — going ! going ! — 
 Fifteen hundred dollars — all done ? —sixteen 
 Hundred dollars— all done ? the last call ! gone ! 
 They are yours — a cheap lot Monsieur Franga. 
 That is the last lot to be sold to day. 
 The cows and horses, farm implements, 
 And sundry articles "too numerous 
 
ACT II. SCENE V. 63 
 
 To mention," will be sold some future day, 
 
 Of which due notice will be given you 
 
 In the far-famed Kentucky Advertiser. 
 
 The fine estate of Pascoevale is sold 
 
 By private bargain, and herewith withdrawn ; 
 
 And as to Mary Wilfrid, I suppose 
 
 The most of you're aware she too was sold 
 
 Clandestinely — I should say privately. 
 
 But if all tales are true that I have heard. 
 
 She has cut her luckey, and gone northward. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Courtyard outside of Vellum's House. 
 Enter Vellum with laic papers, followed by 
 tivo Detective Officers equipped with belted 
 pistols, rifles, &c. 
 
 Vell. I must redeem my thousand dollars worth, 
 The poco-moonshine of a worthless mink ; 
 Here, then, is the Sheriff's warrant to seize 
 
64 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 And apprehend the vile, the little minx, 
 Together with her aiders and abettors, 
 And drag them forth to justice. Now, Sanco, 
 You and Wappa 
 
 {Enter from a stable door two niggers, with 
 each a chain in hand attached to two dogs in 
 leash.) 
 
 Gro with this Officer, 
 And over hill and dale, through marshy swamp, 
 Or densely timbered forest, you pursue 
 And track the fugitives. Dead or alive 
 Bring them hither, and claim a good reward. 
 {Enter Dido, another nigger, with two dogs 
 leashed as before.) 
 And Dido, you and this other Officer 
 Pursue an opposite direction. Let 
 Slip the dogs of blood — off — bound — and away, 
 Ere long to return and receive your pay. 
 {The dogs are let loose , and trained to run off 
 the stage.) 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT II. SCENE VII. 65 
 
 Scene VII. — Prairies of America. Enter Wil- 
 
 BERFORCE, WlLFRID, and MARY. 
 
 Wilb. O'er hill and dale^ and through open 
 prairies, 
 Through pine and cypress, and through forest glade, 
 We've made our way, and steadfast our escape 
 Thus far. Yet still the danger is not o'er, 
 "We've not evaded their keen vigilenee. 
 I feared, one time, that in yon hickory 
 And mulberry thicket, that we were gone ; 
 Something tells me they were not far behind. 
 Methought I heard the yelp of dogs, the howl 
 Of savage men in hot pursuit ; but, thanks, 
 We've got thus far, and in a safe retreat. 
 
 Wilf. I'm weary and bedone. I thought I 
 would 
 Have stuck me fast within yon river swamp ; 
 And o'er and o'er again within the scrub 
 
66 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 And dogwood of yon forest wild, methought 
 
 I'd ne'er be extricate again. Mary, 
 
 How feel you ? Are you sore fatigued and worn ? 
 
 Mary. Not I indeed, Father ; think not of me ; 
 I feel as if I'd run the very soles, 
 Yea, e'en the very flesh, from off my feet : 
 I know no weariness in this enchase. 
 But tell me, Wilberforce, d'ye think we're safe, 
 E'en for a moment, to abide delay 
 In this sequestered spot, e'en though recluse ? 
 
 {Agitated.) 
 
 Wilb. Mary, why tremble thus ? be not afraid, 
 Have courage my dear girl, and I'll protect. 
 Should the worst come to the worst, these weapons 
 Will protect thee. We've passed through Ala- 
 bama, 
 And through Tenessee. Once passed the confines 
 Of the city Frankfort, in Kentucky, 
 And we bid adieu to all our dangers 
 And alarms. There the Abolitionists 
 Will give us succour and protection sure. 
 
ACT II. SCENE VII. 67 
 
 Mary. Then let us speed our way, I feel not 
 safe, 
 My apprehension is foreboding. 
 
 Wilb. Well, I go foremost and enquire the way, 
 Me thinks we're safest to enquire for .Richmond. 
 Appear conversing you and your father, 
 I in cogitation. And remember 
 The character youVe now assumed — servants 
 Both to me. Observe my look. Whatsoe'er 
 My order — appear to serve submissive, 
 Both in my least as well as great commands, 
 By that means we'll pass ourselves for new hands. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Mary. Thou little knowest how anxious I'm to 
 serve, — 
 What woman would not estimate so good 
 A benefactor of herself and father ? 
 To find thy equal I might search the world, 
 A noble mind is best seen when unfurled. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
68 WILFRID AND MAUt \ 
 
 Scene VIII. — Hotel in Cincinnati — Jeremy 
 Doodle, Wilfrid, Wilberforce and Mary. 
 
 Wilf. We now may jest. IVe been Ler over- 
 see^ 
 IVe seen her look, but never caught her leer r 
 I hope you'll always find her as you see her. 
 
 Dood. You te been to chapel, as I understand^ 
 And ta'en that lady by the wedded hand. 
 I could have wished your troubles all were o er, 
 But I'm afraid youVe yet to meet some more \ 
 Detective officers are yet on your scent, 
 And on your seizure they are keenly bent. 
 Blessed beyond compare, above all other state. 
 No slavery exists within this state ! 
 To me it seems your danger yet is great, 
 And as an Abolitionist I'd state 
 You still are liable to be arrested, 
 And then you, sir, would be quite fallen crested. 
 
ACT II. SCENE VIT1. 69 
 
 This district promises you no protection 
 Against all troubles that you choose to mention ; 
 For if they found you, they could her arrest, 
 And tear her, ay, e'en from your wedded breast. 
 But that's not likely, when the truth you know, — 
 While being wedded a short time ago, 
 A detective called inquiring for you, 
 
 ( Wilberforce tries to interrupt.) 
 But stay, sir ; what was my answer, think you ? 
 I said that you were gone — that you were gone ; 
 To which I had a double meaning. Gone 
 May mean clean gone — right gone — or taken on ; 
 And so you see they were mistaken on. 
 So if you'd take my very best advice, 
 You d bundle up your traps, and in a trice 
 Get on the lakes and make for Canada, 
 Or you'd better be in Trinadada. 
 
 Wilb. Ha ! say you so ? then we had best be 
 gone, 
 We thought with thee to spend the honeymoon, 
 But, as it seems, that moon shines not so bright 
 
70 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 And clear as in a land of liberty. 
 
 If 1 were in your Temples, laws to frame, 
 
 I'd agitate, or abrogate, secede, 
 
 Or have them changed. No good will ever come 
 
 Upon a sta/te of pestilence like thine. 
 
 Dood. Why, sir, that's just what we are doing, 
 While you, sir, are billing and cooing. 
 
 (To the audience.) 
 We hope ere long, this Great Seceding 
 Will mend our manners and our breeding ; 
 And be looked up to, not looked down on, 
 By any land that wears a crown on. 
 So, if you please, do give us some applause, 
 WeVe done our best to reform these laws. 
 
 [Curtain falls. 
 
EPILOGUE. 71 
 
 Enter Mary, Wilberforce, and Wilfrid. 
 
 Mary. To-night we bid adieu, we're for the 
 lakes, 
 We trust the good folk " o' the Land o' Cakes" 
 Will sympathise in what we have come through, 
 And courteous, smile upon our object too. 
 
 Wilf. We most sincerely wish that we had done 
 Our parts much better, and have justly won 
 Your smiling approbation and applause, 
 On these, our feeble efforts in this cause. 
 Should we ere meet again, we hope 'twill be. 
 To aid the cause of poor humanity. 
 
 Wilb. Freedom's a gem of lustre and renown. 
 It sparkles brightest in Victoria's crown ; 
 Whoe'er enjoys the halo of that gem, 
 Enjoys existence that's denied to them 
 
72 WILFRID AND MARY. 
 
 Whose cause we advocate upon these boards ; 
 Although we're neither senators nor lords, 
 We still can advocate their cause aloud. 
 We're Legislators to your nightly crowd ! 
 Great credit is our manager's just meed, 
 To produce this play gave him pride indeed, 
 His great ambition caterer for you, 
 Please to award him, then, the caterer's due. 
 
 {Enter Manager with a booh in hand, copy of 
 " Wilfrid and Mary.") 
 
 Manager. Stay, for the author Fve a word to 
 say, 
 He calls his comedy a simple play ; 
 If it be simple ; what then call ye hard ? 
 Agree with me and take him at his word. 
 Send forth your plaudits to our simple bard. J 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 COLSTON AND SON, PRINTERS, 80 ROSE STREET, EDINBURGH. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 529 246 3