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 J ptfrnedic jlrama in ifibe ;2Uis, 
 
 BY 
 
 J. T. T R 0 W B RIDGE. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDER 
 
 A Description of the Costume—(last Of the Characters—Emrahees and Exits 
 Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and 
 the whole of the Stage Business, 
 
 AS NOW PERFORMED AT THE PRINCIPAL ENGLISH 
 AND AMERICAN THEATRES. 
 
 M. J. McGrath & Go’s Western Dramatic Agency, 
 
 Dealers in Dramatic Works, Wigs, Beards, Mustaches, 
 Tableau Lights, Face Paints, Spangles, Gold 
 and Silver Braids, and General Pur¬ 
 chasing Agents. 
 
 153 SOUTH DESFLAINES ST, CHICAGO. 
 
 
Return this book on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. A 
 charge is made on all overdue 
 books. 
 
 University of Illinois Library 
 
 m 10 !|50 
 
 ® 2 7 1953 
 
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 AUG ! 0 !35 
 FLB 2U 1371 
 
 
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 § f P 2 8 W 
 
 SEP 2 2 UAL 
 
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 FEB G 1 1992 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
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 y? 
 
 It is needless to state that the drama of • Neighbor Jack- 
 wood ” is founded upon the novel of the same name. The suc¬ 
 cess of the book occasioned a demand for the pl^y. Having 
 pad no thought of lending my own hand to the work of adapt¬ 
 ation, a liberal proposition to that effect, from Mr. Kimball, 
 of the Boston Museum, took me by surprise ; and the encourage¬ 
 ment thus'received, together with the confidence his well-known 
 energy and sagacity inspired, must therefore be my apology for 
 assuming the pen of the dramatist. 
 
 Having decided upon the undertaking, my first step was to 
 consult the Museum’s clear-headed stage-manager, Mr. W. H. 
 Smith, to whom I am indebted for invaluable hints with regard 
 to stage business and requirements. I then proceeded to the diffi¬ 
 cult work of dramatization. A volume of over four hundred 
 pages was to be compressed into five -acts. I found myself 
 obliged, consequently, to discard entirely episodes and personages 
 that give interest and variety to the book, and confine myself *to 
 such as could be most effectively put upon the stage. Thus the 
 scenes in Mobile and Montreal, Hector’s adventures, the early his¬ 
 tory of Camille, Bridget, Corny, the Dunbury parents, and vari- 
 jous other characters, — among them Edward, one of the most 
 prominent in the novel,— I was forced to omit altogether, or 
 dismiss with a casual mention. 
 
 On the other hand, to render the play complete as such, and 
 not a mere version in dialogue of the book, it was necessary to 
 change or enlarge characters retained, according to the abilities 
 of the actors — to expand Crumlett to the proportions of War¬ 
 ren, and fit the paternal head to Whitman’s able shoulders. And 
 here I must express my gratification at the conscientious care and 
 fidelity with which the piece has been produced upon the Museum 
 l boards. Few are aware how much a dramatic author owes to the 
 cooperation of a skilful and judicious manager. The various 
 parts of the play could not have been better cast in any theatri- 
 jcal company. From Mrs. Thompson’s “ Grandmother Rigglesty,” 
 to Miss Rose Skerrett’s inimitable “ Bim,” the representation of 
 each character has seemed as nearly perfect as possible. To 
 touch upon the merits of the intermediate members of the com¬ 
 pany would swell into an article what was intended merely as 
 a prefatory note. J. T. T. 
 
 Boston, April, 1857 . 
 
ORIGINAL CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
 
 AT 
 
 THE BOSTON MUSEUM. 
 
 Hector Dunbury, .... Mr. E. F. Reach. 
 
 ’Squire Greenwich,... F. Whitman. 
 
 Robert Greenwich, .J. Davies. 
 
 Neighbor Jackwood, .W. H. Smith 
 
 Abimelech,. Miss Rose Skerrett. 
 
 Enos Crumlett, .. Mr. W. Warren. 
 
 Mr. Rckely, .J. Wilson. 
 
 Dickson, . ..E. Thompson. 
 
 Oliver Dole, . Wheelock. 
 
 Landlord,. Delano. 
 
 Sheriff,. Willis. 
 
 Lawyer, .... ..W. Finn. 
 
 Wilton, .Lake. 
 
 First Lounger, .Boynton. 
 
 Second “ G. W. Delano. 
 
 Farmers, Sheriff's Officers, Ac., by auxiliaries. 
 
 Camille (Charlotte),.Mrs. Skerrett 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood, .Mrs. Preston 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty, .Mrs. Thompson. 
 
 Matilda Fosdick,. Mrs. J. R. Vincent. 
 
 Phoebe Jackwood,. Miss Ellen Wright. 
 
 Bertha Rckely, .. . Mrs. H. Eckhardt. 
 
 Mrs. Greenwich,. Miss Raymond. 
 
 Etty Greenwich, ..Miss M. Thompson. 
 
 Mrs. Sperkley, .Miss Mason 
 
 Farmers’ Wives and Yankee Girls, .... Misses Fredericks, Marjr Wright, Turner, 
 Evans, Mrs. Wright, Miss E. Jones, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 * r HE SCENE IS LAID IN VERMONT. 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Kitchen in the Farm-house. Window, r. c., and door, 
 
 l. c., in flat, practical. Mrs. Jackwood setting the dinner-table, 
 
 r. c. Phoebe, r., toasting bread. A storm. 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. Dear me, what a squall! How dark it grows! 
 They ’ll git wet, sartin as the world ! ( Goes to the window. Sharp 
 
 flash of lightning. Starts back.) I never ! That must have struck 
 somewheres ! ’Tend to that bread, Phoebe. 
 
 Phoebe. I do ; but I’m half scared to death. I’m always afraid of 
 thunder. 0 ! ( Flirts her hand.) 
 
 Mrs. J. That bread is burning — I smell it. 
 
 Ph. ’T an’t the bread, it’s my finger. ( Sucks the burn.) 
 
 Mrs. J. I declare, if you an’t letting that toast all burn to a cin¬ 
 der ! How can anybody be so careless? ( Drops a plate.) 
 
 Ph. So I say, how can they ? I did n’t break that ! 
 
 Mrs. J. ( Picks up pieces carefully.) . ’Tend to your work ! It’s 
 always the way, when your father and Bim’lech go a-fishin’, they 
 never know when to come home. They might see’t was goin’ to rain. 
 (Door flies open, f., and Abimelech stumbles in headlong.) Why, 
 Birn’lech ! Hurt ye? Do shet the door quick, Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. I should think the Old Scratch was after him ! 
 
 Abimelech. (l., getting up.) Wal ! I guess you’d— That darned 
 old doorstep ! 
 
 Mrs. J. (c.) Why, what now, my son ? Don’t speak so ! 
 
 Abim. Don’t care ! ’Mos’ broke my shin. I was runnin’ on 
 ahead — - 
 
 Ph. I should say you was running on your head ! 
 
 Abim. Ma, make her stop ! ( Flings his cap at her.) 
 
 Ph. Ugh ! your nasty wet cap ! ( Takes it up with the tongs.) 
 
 Mrs. J. There, there, childern ! Take off your coat, the first thing, 
 Bim’lech. Soppin’ wet, an’t ye ? Where’s yer father ? 
 
 Ph. He’s bringing home the fish, I suppose ; they always ketch 
 euch lots ! 
 
 Abim. Wal, I did ! I ketched two trout, real nice ones, and lost 
 em. 
 
 Ph. What a smart boy you be ! 
 
 Abim. Father’s got suthin’ ’sides fisb 1 
 
 Th. I know what ! 
 
 vt 
 
6 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT 1 
 
 Abim. A good deal you know ! Come, what ? 
 
 Ph. It’s what you got— a ducking. You never get anything else, 
 when you go a-fishing. 
 
 Abim. Wal, we did this time, any way. Can’t neither of ye guess ! 
 
 .Mrs. J. What is it, my son? 
 
 Ph. Tell me, Bim’, and I ’ll give ye an onion to wipe yer eyes with 
 
 Abim. It *s suthin’ real nice ! It’s a — beggar-woman ! 
 
 Mrs J A beggar-woman ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Abim. You ’ll see. They ’re cornin’. We found her all tuckered 
 out, crossin’ the interval. I d’n know what she’d done, if ’t 
 hadn’t been for me an’ father. 0, she’s the darnedest-lookin’ ol’ 
 thing ! 
 
 Mrs. J. That’s jest like your father, for all the world, to bring 
 hum a stragglin’ old woman ! What ’ll we do with her, J wonder ! 
 
 Ph. Let her sleep with Bim ! 
 
 Abim. I guess so ! There they come ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, d. f., supporting Camille disguised. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. It’s all right now ! Bless your heart, my poor 
 woman, don’t tremble so ! Set the big chair, mother. I told ye we’d 
 find a warm kitchen somewheres. This is better ’n out doors in the 
 rain, now, an’t it ? 
 
 Mrs. J. W T hy ! who is she? 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t stop tor that ; get a glass of that ’ere currant wine ; 
 she’s dre’ful faint. Cheer up, poor woman, you ’re among friends 
 now. Here comes mother, with suthin’ that ’ll put life into ye. Take 
 her wet bunnit. Here, poor woman, drink this — ’t an’t none o’ yer 
 pison stuff; it ’ll do ye good. 
 
 Ph. Don’t stand staring at her, Bim ! 
 
 Abim. You don’t stare, nor nothin’ ! 
 
 (Mr. Jackwood holds the glass, while Mrs. Jackwood removes 
 Camille’s bonnet. A gray wig comes off with it; at the same 
 time the spectacles fall from her eyes , and her hair falls in curls 
 down her neck.) 
 
 Mrs. J. (r. of chair.) Sakes alive ! 
 
 Mr. J. (l. of chair.) That beats the Dutch ! 
 
 Ph. (r. ) Why, she an’t an old ivoman, after all ! 
 
 Abim. (l. ) I swanny, I thought ’t was an ol’ beggar-woman ! 
 
 Camille. 0, you will not'— Something tells me you will be my 
 friend ! ( Pleadingly , to Mr. Jackwood.) 
 
 Mr. J. I’d be yer friend, now I see yer face, if I would n’t 
 afore. No unfortinit critter ever come to Bim’lech Jackwood’s house, 
 that did n’t find a fire to warm ’em, a good dinner, and, more ’n all 
 that, a hearty welcome. • 
 
 Cam. 0, thank you ! thank you ! 
 
 Mr o No thanks ; but drink this ’ere. Then you ’ll be better . 
 
 Mrs. J (r. c.) Dear me ! she don’t look a bit stubbed ! — How' 
 happens it you ’re travellin’ in this way? 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t ax her no questions ; she’s kind o’ turned round, 
 - Do ye live hereabouts ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Han’t ye got no home ? 
 
 Mr. J. There, I would n’t question her, mother ! — What name 
 shall we call ye by ? 
 
 / 
 
 I. 
 
SCENE I.J 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 T 
 
 Mrs. J. Hang this on the peg, Phoebe. — Be your parents livin' ? 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t be pryin’ into her affairs. Can’t ye give her a dry 
 gown to put on ? — You come from over the mountain, did n’t ye? 
 
 Mrs. J. What was yer object, in dressing like an old woman ? 
 
 Mr. J. There, there, mother, you only make her feel bad ! You ’re 
 always so inquisitive ! — What did you say your name was ? 
 
 Cam. I shall be better soon ; let me be quiet a little while — my 
 brain is confused. 
 
 Mr. J. No wonder, you ax her so many questions, mother .— I 
 forgit what name •— 
 
 Cam. You can call me Charlotte — Charlotte Woods. 
 
 Mr. J. Cha’lotte — Cha’lotte Woods ; that’s a good, honest, 
 respectable name. Do your foiks live about here ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Any relation to the Woods living under the mountain? 
 
 Mr. J. Come, don’t pester her with questions any more, mother ! I 
 tell ye, it hurts her feelin’s. Make her comf’table — that’s all we ’ve 
 to think of now. — Feel as though you could eat a little dinner? Do, 
 don’t ye? That’s right. Set the chairs to the table, Phoebe. We ’ll 
 turn her right around, mother. Poor gal ! poor gal ! 
 
 Ph. ( Setting the j chairs.) Come, Bim, you can help. 
 
 Abim. I an’t a gal. I wan’t born to do housework.' 
 
 Mr. J. None o’ your nonsense, boy ! Take holt and help. 
 
 Abim. I’m tired to death — perty nigh ! 
 
 Ph. I should think you would be, bringing home so many fish ! 
 
 Abim. I don’t cai*e ; they ’re the meanest fish down there to Wild 
 river ! I put my hook right up to their mouths, and the great fools 
 would n’t swaller it ! 
 
 Mr. J. Not so big fools, arter all, my son. —Here ye be, my poor 
 * gal ! You must eat suthin’, ye know. We life by eatin’ here in this 
 house. 
 
 Abim. My first two nibbles was bites, then all my other bites was 
 nibbles. ( Places a chair at the table , and sits down.) 
 
 Ph. Here! that’s my place. {The children quarrel.) 
 
 Mr. J. (l .of table, seated.) Give Phoebe her place, my son.— 
 Here’s good home-made bread and fresh milk ; the children like brend 
 and milk ; but perhaps you’d ruther have some buttered toast ; that’s 
 as sweet butter as you ’ll find anywheres. Then mother ’ll give you 
 a good stiff cup of tea, to raise your sperits. 
 
 Ph. (r. ) Bim won’t git up ! He made faces at you. 
 
 Mr. J. Bim Tech ! did you do that ’ere? 
 
 Abim. (r.) 0, I didn’t! There was a ’skeeter buzzin’ round my 
 nose, and I squinted to scare him away. 
 
 Ph. What a story ! There an’t a mosquito in the house. Come, 
 or 1 ’ll help you. ( Pulls the chair from under him.) 
 
 Abim. 0 ! you old — 
 
 Mr. J. There, there, there, children ! don’t quarrel. What makes 
 ye want to pester him so, Phoebe? You shouldn’t mind it, my son ; 
 you should be abovfe sich things. 
 
 Mrs. J. (c., pouring the tea.) Do you take milk and sugar 0 v To 
 Cajiille.) Why, do look at her, father ! I declare, she’s fainted ' 
 
 Mr. J Marcy on us ! Bring the camphh'e, mother ’ {Supp&~*+ 
 
 1 imille Mrs. J. runs to anlfro. Confusion.) 
 
 Ph. 0 dear ! 0 dear ’ 
 
I 
 
 S NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. I ACT I. 
 
 Mrs. J. I never . this an’t the camphire ! What am I about?- 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t be seart ! Some water, Bim’lech ! She ’ll come to 
 arter a little sprinklin’. 
 
 Ph. Water ! water ! ( Runs to the tea-kettle, and pours hot water 
 
 upon her foot.) 
 
 Abim. Here, I’ll sprinkle her! ( Seizes the milk-pitcher, and 
 
 dashes its contents on Camille and Mr. Jackwood.) 
 
 Mr. J. Not milk, you blunderhead ! Water ! Be quick ! 
 
 (Exit Abimelech, d. f.) 
 
 Ph. ( Pulling off her shoe.) I’ve most burnt me to death ! 0 
 
 dear ! Why, no, I han’t, neither ! 
 
 Abim. ( Reenters , d., with a large pailful of water.) Here’s yer 
 water ! (Mrs. Jackwood brings the camphor from r. 2 e.) 
 
 Mr. J. There, there ! you ’ll strangle her to death, mother ! 
 
 Mrs. J. ’T won’t do no harm. Camphire is good for faintin’ 
 spells, 
 
 Mr. J. How do you feel now, poor gal ? 
 
 Cam. (Languidly .) Better — quite well. 
 
 Mr. J. Better ; the poor creatur’ ! 0, do look at that hurt on hor 
 
 breast ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Marcy sakes ! it’s a stab. 
 
 Cam. It’s nothing, only a little hurt. 
 
 Mr. J. She’s been stabbed there, sartin as the world ! 
 
 Ph. (r., with her shoe in her hand.) What is it? 
 
 Mr. J. Open yer eyes, can’t ye ? I want to see how ye look. 
 
 Cam. My eyelids are stiff. 
 
 Abim. (l. ) Put some butter on ’em ! Say ! shall I? 
 
 Mr. J\ Git away with your nonsense ! 
 
 (Abimelech recoils, and falls into the pail.) 
 
 Ph. ( Going to Abimelech, behind l.) Good enough for ye ! What 
 did you set it right there in the way for ? Now bellow, great baby ! 
 
 Abim. Darn you! ( Spatters her ; she beats him with her shoe.) 
 
 Mr. J. What’s all this noise? Childern ! can’t ye behave your 
 selves? ( Exit Abimelech, chasing Phcebe, d. f.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Take her right into our room ! 
 
 Mr. J. ( Lifts Camille.) Can ye walk a little? That’s right! 
 You ’ll be better soon, take my word for ’t. Poor gal ! You’ve been 
 havin’ a hard time on’t. But you ’re among friends ; you ’ll find 
 good, safe, comfortable quarters in Bim’lech Jackwood’s house, I can 
 promise ye that ! There, there, cheer up ! Poor gal ! ( Exeunt , l. 
 
 2 E.) 
 
 SCENE II. — Exterior of Village Tavern. Door in flat, practt - 
 
 cal. 
 
 Enter Loungers, laughing, r. 
 
 First Lounger. Ha ! ha ! she’s a stageful, by herself! Who in 
 time is she ? 
 
 Seco7id Lounger. She looks like Noah’s wife, getting out of th# 
 ark! 
 
 j 
 
 - ' i 
 
•CENE II.] NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 Enter Stage-driver, r., roughly dragging an odd-ltokim ; old-fash 
 ioned chesty and carrying a smashed-up bandbox 
 
 Third Lounger. Hello, driver ! they say you stopped in the rain to 
 make love to the owner of that baggage. That’s what makes the 
 stage so late to-day. - v / 
 
 First and Second Loun. That ’s so. 
 
 Stage-driver, (c.) Blast the baggage ! ( Kicks the chest, and slaps 
 ihe bandbox upon it.) 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. {Outside , R.) Here, mister ! You 
 driver ! don’t knock that chist all to pieces. I knowed that ban’box 
 would git jammed. ( Enters, with bag, umbrella , and arms fell of 
 bundles, preceded by Landlord.) 
 
 Landlord. This way, ma’am. 
 
 G. R. Strange, folks can’t be a little mite careful! Jest look a’ that 
 ban’box ! ( Drops a bundle. Stooping to take it up, drops another.) 
 
 0, my back ! Do pick up that pa’cel, can’t ye, driver? (Driver 
 takes up the bundle, and flings it at the chest.) I vum ! ( Exit Driver, 
 r.) I could pull that fellow’s ears! He’s the hatefules, driver' 
 (-D rops more bundles.) 
 
 Land. Walk in, ma’am. 
 
 G. R. ( Drops umbrella.) That ’s the wust stage to r’.de in ! I 
 shan’t get over it in my j’ints, I do’no when ! 0 deal . ( stooping) 
 
 sich a dre’ful rheumatiz ! ( Drops her bag.) J)o jest lay them things 
 
 on my chist, can’t ye? It kills me to git down bo. 
 
 Land. Walk right into the sitting-room, ma’am. 
 
 G. R. Does anybody here know Bim’iech Jackwood? 
 
 Land. Neighbor Jackwood ? Everybody knows Neighbor Jack- 
 wood. 
 
 G. R. Han’t nobody seen him this arternoon? 
 
 Second Loun. I saw him going down the river, a-fishin’, this morn- 
 in’, ’long with Bim. 
 
 G. R. It’s the strangest thing ! Here I wrote to Bim’lech’s folks, 
 more ’n a week ago, to let ’em know I was cornin’. I wonder if that 
 letter has ever got to ’em ? 
 
 Second Loun. {Crosses r.) There’s Enos Crumlett over there. 
 He’s been waiting ’round all day to make a trade with somebody. I ’ll 
 Bend him over to the old woman. {Exit, r.) 
 
 G. R. What ye laffin’ at? {To First and Third Loungers.) Don’t 
 ye know manners ? 
 
 First Loun. Manners ? There’s no such fellow in town. 
 
 G R. Laf, then ! Some folks don’t know no better ! Anything 
 but a sassy, grinnin’ — 
 
 Fi~ss- Loun. Come, Tom, I shall split if I stay any longer. 
 
 Crosses, r.) 
 
 Third Loun Crackey ! what a scowl ! {Exeunt First and Third 
 Loungers, u ) 
 
 G R. Heugli i 
 
 Land. Supper, ma’am ? 
 
 G. R. No, I guess not. I got some lunch in my bag. I s’pose, it’ 
 Bim’lech’s folks don’t come for me perty soon, you can jest give me a 
 cup o’ tea in my hand, can’t ye, without much charge? I don’t car* 
 fbr milk and sugar. 
 
10 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 [ACT I. 
 
 Land. You better walk in, ma’am. 
 
 G. R. No, I guess I ’li stay here. I shan’t be to no trouble 
 Seating herself on her baggage, and opening her bandbox.) And 
 iee here, you sir ! if you know of anybody that’s going right by Bim- 
 ’lech’s house, that I can ride with, I wish you’d let me know. I don't 
 re’ly feel as though I could afford to hire a wagon a-puppu 3 . 
 
 Land. I’ll see, ma’am. {Exit, l.) 
 
 G R. Fiddlestick’s eend ! he’ll see ! These landlords ! Nothing 
 
 new would suit him better-Sakes alive ! ( Takes a bonnet from the 
 
 bandbox.) I vum 1 I ’ve a good mind — I’ll have that driver prose¬ 
 cuted ! That best bonnet, ’t I ’ve'kept new, for Sundays, these nine 
 year: ( Presses it into shape.) I wish I’d staid to Sawney Hook. 
 (Sneezes.) I knowed I was lcetchin’ cold. Settin’ right in a draft of 
 air! (Pulls her shawl about her neck.) Sich mis’rable taverns ! (On 
 the point of sneezing again, with the bandbox in one hand, and the 
 bonnet in the other.) 
 
 Enos Crumlett. (Without, R.) Yes, much obleeged to ye; I’m 
 in suthin’ of a hurry. Keep an eye on my team, will ye? (Enter¬ 
 ing.) Do as much for you some time. Wal ! chance for a spec’la- 
 tion. 
 
 G. R. Ca-shoo ! (Sneezing.) 
 
 Enos, (r.) I should think so ! Might have hitched a yoke Of cat¬ 
 tle to that sneeze. 
 
 G. R. I’m ketchin’ my death o’ cold ! It’s so strange Bim’lech’s 
 folks — 
 
 Enos. Good-arternoon ! how de dew? ’Pear to be travellin’. 
 
 G. R. I’ve had the hardest ja’nt, in that plaguy old stage ! — I 
 want to go to Bim’lech .Jackwood’s. 
 
 Enos. (Aside.) Chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 G. R. BimTech Jackwood’s a son-in-law o’ mine. Mrs. Jackwood, 
 Betsey Rigglesty that was, is my darter. 
 
 Enos. Sho ! then this is Mrs. Rigglesty ? How de dew, agin ? My 
 name’s Crumlett - Enos Crumlett. You’ve heerd tell of Enos, han’t 
 ye ? 
 
 G. R. I do’nc — seems to me I have. (Aside.) He’s re’l kind o’ 
 perlite, any way. 
 
 Enos. Yes, Enos Crumlett. I live over by Neighbor Jackwood’s. 1 
 keep house long with mother. Mother an’t very well ; she’s been 
 ailin’ more ’n a year, now. 
 
 G. R. What ’pears to be the matter? 
 
 Enos. ’Pears to be a trouble in her spine. 
 
 G. R. That’s a terrible complaint. I believe I’ve got a spine in 
 nay back, (Moving.) 0, 0 ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, ’t would n’t be a bit strange if you have. 
 
 G. R. It’s the terrible-est crickin’ pain — 0,0! 
 
 Enos. That’s it ; my mother’s the same way. She’s bin a terribla 
 sufferer. 
 
 G. R. Wal, she’s fortinit in havin’ a son that pities her. How 
 I’m goin’ to git over to BimTech’s I can’t consaive ! You don’t know 
 anybody goin’ that way’t I can ride with, do ye ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, no; do’no’s I dew. Le’ me see,—no. I’m dowa 
 here with a team , but, then, ’t would be out of my way. 
 
»CENE II.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 11 
 
 G. R. 0, would it ? Jest for accommodation, ye know. My dar¬ 
 ter’s folks would be ever so much obleeged to ye. 
 
 Enos. Wal, I’m sorry ; I ’d like to accommodate ; but I’m in a des« 
 prit hurry. 
 
 G. R. I s’pose I could pay ye for yer trouble. 
 
 Enos. (Aside .) Chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 G. R. I don’t feel as though I could atford to stay here, runnin’ up 
 a bill of expense. 
 
 Enos. Wal, you’re right there. The landlord — ’tween you an’ 
 me an’ the side o’ the house — never mind . I an’t none o’ the med¬ 
 dlin’ sort — only look out, that’s all I got to say. 
 
 G. R. See here ! is he, though ? I knowed he was by his looks. I 
 Was goin’ to take a cup o’ tea ; but I won’t. I’m glad I did n’t go 
 In. See here, what ’ll it be wuth ? ’T won’t be very, much out o’ your 
 way, will it ? - - 
 
 Enos. Don’t see how I can, any way in the world. Don’t like to 
 leave ye here, though. I’m in a desprit hurry. Seein’ it’s you, if 
 you ’re a mind to gi’ me a quarter — though I don’t hardly see how I 
 
 «an. 
 
 G. R. I guess, then, if it’s goin’ to be so much trouble, I won’t 
 bender you. (Aside.) As for paying a quarter — I guess I ’ll wait 
 for BimTech. 
 
 Enos. Wal, mebby ye better, on the hull. I did n’t see how I could 
 take ye,— though, of course, I would for accommodation. If Mr. Jack- 
 wood don’t send for ye, I ’ll let him know in the mornin’ you ’re here 
 I 've got a letter to send down to his house. ( Going.) 
 
 G. R. 0, you sir, see here ! 
 
 Enos. Of course, though I ’m in a desprit hurry. 
 
 G. R. Did you say a letter for Bim’lech’s folks ? 
 
 Enos. Yes, one I took out o’ the office for him. (Reads.) “ Abime- 
 Jt*ch Jackwood, Huntersford, on the Crick.” • 
 
 G. R. My stars ! it’s the very letter I wrote a week ago 
 
 Enos. Sho ! you don’t say ? 
 
 G. R. I’m provoked as I can be ! Send a letter to say you ’re 
 Aomin’, pay the postage on’t, too ! There’s three cents gone ! Bim- 
 r iech is so slack ! 
 
 Enos. ’Tis provokin’. (Aside.) Chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 G. R. I don ’t see but I shall haf to git ye to carry me over, arter 
 all. Say a shillin’, can’t ye? 
 
 Enos. Wal, if I must dew it, — though I’m in a desprit hurry ; 
 besides, I owe the blacksmith a shillin’, and if you can just as well 
 
 pay me now-Guess, though, on the hull, I better not step. I’m 
 
 in a desprit hurry. ( Going.) 
 
 G. R. (Taking out her purse.) Here, sir ! le’ me see if I’ve got 
 a shillin’. 
 
 Enos. Goin’ to obleege me to take it, be ye? Wal, if I must — 
 anything for accommodation, ye know. 
 
 G. R. It’s one cent short ; but I don’t s’pose you ’ll stan’ about a 
 cent. 
 
 Enos. Wal, — no, — not exac’ly ; I an’t one o’ that sort ; but, if 
 t’m to pay the blacksmith, I would n’t like to ’pear mean. So, if y« 
 happen to have the odd copper, ye know — 
 
 G . R. Massy sakes ! do take it! 
 
12 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT L 
 
 Enos. All right! Don’t think I — of coarse, ye know ( Pockets 
 the change.) Ready? I’ll bring my team up along. I’m in suthin* 
 of a hurry. {Exit, r.) 
 
 G. R. Wal, I got olf cheaper ’n I expected. He ’s jest about the 
 only re’l accommodatin’ man ’t I’ve come acrost. {Gathers up her 
 bundles.) I kind o’ begrudged him the odd cent, though. 
 
 Landlord. {Entering, d. f.) I ’ve found a man that is going right 
 by Mr. Jackwood’s house. 
 
 G. R. 0, have ye? {Aside.) I s’pose, now, he’ll make a charge 
 of that. • v 
 
 Land. You can ride just as well as not. 
 
 G. R. Can I ? What a pity, now, I paid that Crumlett ! 
 
 Land. Crumlett ? Why, he’s the very man ! 
 
 G. R. 0, it is, hey ? I hired him to go out of his way, and take 
 me. 
 
 Land. Out of his way? There’s only one road, and that goes 
 right by Mr. Jackwood’s door. He’s been starting for home this 
 hour, only he stopped to get hold of some kind of speculation. 
 
 G. R. That’s his desprit hurry ! 
 
 Enos. {Reenters, r.) Team’s ready, ma’am. I’m in suthin’ of 
 a hurry. 
 
 Land. If you don’t like to ride with him, you can stay and send 
 word to Mr. Jack wood. 
 
 Enos. This baggage goes along too, I s’pose. 
 
 G. R. No ; I’ve concluded not to go, myself. 
 
 Enos. 0, have ye? Changed yer mind? Glad o’ that ; I did n’t 
 see how I could — 
 
 G. R. So, if you ’ll jest give me back the shillin’ — 
 
 Enos. 0, give you back the shillin’ ? Of course. Come to think, 
 though — here, I gave it to the blacksmith ! I’m in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 G. R. {Aside.) Men are so hateful ! Help me with these bundles, 
 then. 0, my back ! {Drops the bundles, or the bag and umbrella, 
 as fast as Enos hands them to her. Landlord assists.) Now, don’t 
 tear that chist all to pieces, loadin’ on’t up. I wish I’d staid down 
 to Sawney Hook ! {Exit, R.) 
 
 Enos. Give us a lift here, landlord. — Chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 {Exeunt, a.) 
 
 SCENE III. — Mr. Jackwood’s Kitchen. Camille discovered, in a 
 
 plain, neat dress, with the articles of her disguise in her hand. 
 
 Camille. How kind these good people are to me ! And I must de¬ 
 ceive them. Good Mr. Jackwood, if I might tell him everything ! I am 
 frightened at the thought of it ! This repose is so delicious to me — it 
 is so sweet to feel that I am safe for a little while ! I must put this 
 bundle away. The very sight of it reminds me of what I have suf 
 fered. {Places it in a closet, R. ) There, I hope I shall never be 
 obliged to appear in that wretched disguise again. Mrs. Jackwood hat 
 made me a present of this dress — how kind it was in her ! They arc 
 all so good to me ! ( H 'eeps. ) 
 
SCENE III J 
 
 NEIQUBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 la 
 
 Enter Phoebe, d. f., ringing. Stops suddenly , and looks at Camillb. 
 
 Phos.be. What can be the matter with her? I don’t believe you like 
 it here very well, do you ? 
 
 Cain, (l.) Ah, I like it too well, Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. It is a real mean old house, I think ! If father ’d build a new 
 one, and fit it up in style, I don’t know ; but,as it is, I’m as unhappy 
 as I can be. 
 
 Cam. {Aside.) She unhappy ! Ah ! if you only knew what it is to 
 be without a home ! 
 
 Ph. Father tells me I don’t know how to appreciate a home. But 
 I can’t help it. I can’t be contented here. 
 
 Cam. Perhaps, then, you will soon change both your name and 
 abode. 
 
 Ph. I won’t marry a farmer, any way ! I’ve always said that, and 
 I 'll stick to it, if I live an old maid ! {Looks in the glass, and puts on 
 airs.) Father says he bets I ’ll go through the woods and take up 
 with a crooked stick. I don’t care ; I ’ll have a merchant, or a law¬ 
 yer, if anybody. I’m glad Hector Dunbury is come home ! 
 
 Cam. {Starting.) Hector ! 
 
 Ph. There an’t a girl in this town but that would give her eyes to 
 get him. I’m sure / would ! 
 
 Cam. {Aside.) Hector — Hector Dunbury ! 
 
 Ph. He has n’t been home for a year ; he’s been living in Mobile 
 
 Cam. Mobile ! {Aside.) 
 
 Ph. You ’re going to stay with us a good while, an’t ye? 
 
 Cam. {Troubled.) Hector ! he is the same ! If we should meet! 
 
 Ph. Why, what is the matter ? You don’t like staying here, I 
 know ! 
 
 Cam. Dear Phoebe, it is so quiet, so peaceful here, and your kind¬ 
 ness to me, a stranger to you all, makes it seem like paradise ! You 
 had some sewing, — that collar, — bring it to me. I will show you 
 how to work it. 
 
 Ph. 0, can you show me? I have been bothered to death with that 
 pattern! I’ll get it. {Exit, r.) 
 
 Cam. Hector? And yet, perhaps he would not remember me 
 
 Ph. ( Reenters , r.) Here it is ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Jackwood, l. 2 e. 
 
 0, mother, she’s going to show me how to do this pattern ! 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. You must n’t go to work, now, and overtax your* 
 self. 
 
 Cam. It is a mere pleasure to do this. 
 
 Mrs. J. You do take hold on’t handy, I must say ! Some folks 
 never can learn to do anything handy. It makes me narvous to see 
 ’em try 
 
 Cam. I’m afraid I should draw pretty severely on your patience 
 sometimes. 
 
 Mrs. J. You could put up with a little frettin’, I guess. It’s my 
 natur’ to fret ! 
 
 Ph. Take my word for that! 
 
 Mrs. J. You need n’t say that, now ! I don’t think I’m any gre’l 
 
 2 
 
14 
 
 NEIGHBOR. JACKWOOD. 
 
 fiOT l 
 
 of a fretter, I ’m sure. You won’t find many women that 'll put up 
 with what I have to put up with, depend upon’t ! Don’t say agin’t 
 1 ’m a gre’t fretter, if you know what’s good for yourself 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. ( Without , d. f.) Git out ! git out, you 
 sir ! ( Dog barks.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Who is that calling ? 
 
 G. R. ( Entering, d. f., with bundles.) Strange to me people will 
 keep a yelpin’ cur ! 
 
 Ph. Why, it’s gran’mother ! 
 
 G. R. Pups is the hatefullest critters ; an’ I detest a yaller pup 
 above all ! 
 
 Ph. You are my Gran’mother Rigglesty ! ( Springs to embrace 
 
 her.) 
 
 G. R. (Dropping her bundles.) Is this Phoete? My sakes, child, 
 how you have grow’d ! 0, Betsey, how d’ ye do ? (Coldly.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Mother ! what a surprise ! Why did n’t you write, to 
 let us know you was cornin’ ? 
 
 G. R. Why did n’t I write ! Don’t none o’ your folks ever go to 
 the post-office, I wonder ? I wrote a week ago yes’day, an’ the letter’s 
 been lyin’ in the office here, ever sence. ( Sitting , r. c.) 
 
 Ph. Mother, let Bim go right down an’ git it ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Phoebe, run and call your father ! 
 
 G. R. (Sneezes.) Do shet the door arter ye ! (Exit Ph(ebe, d. f.) 
 I’m in a perty state, to set in a draft of air ! You ’ll haf to larn 
 to shet doors arter ye, if I stay here. What a lookin’ door-yard 
 you’ve got, Betsey ! Bim’lech’s so shif’less ! 
 
 Mrs. J. 0, wal, mother, we have to git along the best we can. 
 
 G. R. You might keep decent and comf’table, ’t any rate. Bim* 
 lech wants me to spur him up ! 
 
 Enter Phcebe, and Abimelecii, d. f., running and laughing. 
 
 Dear me ! how rude you be, childern ! You ’re enough to take one ’■ 
 head off! 
 
 Abimelech. (Chasing Pikebe around the room.) Pheeb tickled my 
 back, through the hole in my shirt, with a darned old pigweed ; and 
 I’m goin’ to pay her ! 
 
 G. R. 0 ! what a voice ! it goes right through me, jest like a kni p e • 
 
 Mrs. J. Bim’lech, this is your gran’mother. 
 
 Abim. I know it! 
 
 Mrs. J. Why don’t you speak to her, an’ not be so boisterous ? 
 
 Abim. (Sheepishly.) I d’no what to say. 
 
 G. R. Can’t ye give me a sweet kiss, now? Phoebe did. 
 
 Abim. (Giggling. I do’ wanter ! 
 
 G. R. You d’no what I got for ye in my chist ! Mebby it’s a jack¬ 
 knife, now, who knows? Wal, you ’re a notty boy ; and notty boys 
 don’t git no presents. 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, d. f. 
 
 Hew d’ ye do, Bim’lech ? 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Wal, gran’mother ! I’m glad to see ye agin 
 — glad to see ye lookin’ so well an’ hearty ! 
 
 G. R. How can ye talk so ? My constitution’s all broke to pieces ’ 
 I *ve a dre’ful rumatiz ; an’, what’s wus ’n all, there s nobody in this 
 
SCENE Iii. 1 
 
 NEIQHBOR JACXWOOD. 
 
 15 
 
 world ’t has the leastest mite o’ charity for me, n* pity on my suffer- 
 in’s ! ( Takes a handkerchief from bag, and wi}es her eyes.) 
 
 Mr. J. (c.) Wal, wal, gran’mother, you’ll get your reward,— 
 if not here, herearter. 
 
 G. R. ( Weeping.) Here I ’ve slaved and slaved, all my days, and 
 brought up a large family o’ childern, and edicated ’em well as chi!- 
 dern ever need to-be edicated, an’ gin ’em all a good settin’ out when 
 they got married, an’ that’s all the thanks I git for’t ! 
 
 Mrs. J. 0, no, no, no, mother ! 
 
 G. R. I han’t a child in the world but wishes me out o’ the way ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Don’t, mother, talk so, and give way to your teelin’s. 
 
 G. R. 0, wal, if I distress people, I s’pose I must n’t. ( Weeps.) 
 
 Mr. J. Come, come, gran’mother, we all like to have you here ; 
 on’y don’t make yerself unhappy. Git her a cup of tea, mother. 
 ( Exit Mrs. J., r.) Why, what a han’some han’kerchief you’ve got 
 there, gran’mother ! Look here, childern ! there’s a print o’ the Good 
 Samaritan, large as life — almost ! 
 
 Abim. (l.) I don’t care fur her ol’han’kerchief! 
 
 Mr. J. ’Sh, Bim’lech ! Try to say suthin’ to please her ! What a 
 han’some han’kerchief that is, now ! It’s a lesson, too, for us all. 
 Whenever we see that pictur’ o’ the Good Samaritan, gran’mother, 
 it ’ll remind us to be always kind and charitable, like him. 
 
 G. R. ( Wipes her eyes with the handkerchief.) There an’t half 
 enough Good Samaritans in this world ! 
 
 Abim. (l.) I’m real sorry she’s come here to stop ! We can’t 
 have no fun while she’s round. 
 
 Mr. J. Hush up ! You must n’t talk so. It’s your duty to love 
 her, an’ make things pleasant to her. 
 
 Abim. ( Crosses to r.) How can a feller ? Say, Pheeb ! how do 
 ye like her ? 
 
 Phoebe, (r. c.) I was in hopes she’d be jeal good an’ cosey. But 
 I don’t like her a bit; so, there ! 
 
 (Exit , d. f., Abimelech chasing her off.) 
 
 Mr. J. Tut ! tut ! (Approaches Camille, l. c.) To work, hey ! 
 Them don’t look like farmers’ wives’ hands ! They ’re nimble enough, 
 though ! You know how to make ’em useful, I see. 
 
 Cam. I would be glad to make them so, indeed ! 
 
 Mr. J. You’d want some lady r like occupation, though, I s’pose. 
 
 G. R. Heugh ! who they got there ? 
 
 Cam. I would not care much what, if I could see, now and then, a 
 kind face ! 
 
 Mr. J. {Affected.) Poor gal ! How she must a’ suffered ! Wal, 
 wal ! suthin’ ’ll turn up, if you put your trust in Providence, that’s 
 Bartin. At all events, we ’ll keep ye till there does. 
 
 G. R. What on ’arth ! An’t ye goin’ to have my chist brought 
 in ? - 
 
 Mr. J. 0, sartin, sartin, gran’mother ! 
 
 Enter Enos, d. f. 
 
 En*r. (r. C.) 0, neighbor Jackwood ! There’s one thing l com« 
 perty nigh forgittin’. Hen’s a letter for you. Hello! {See* 
 C 4MILLE.) 
 
18 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. [AOT V 
 
 Mr. J. Thank jmu, Enos. Phoebe told me about the letter. Quite 
 a joke, wan’t it, gran’mother ? 
 
 G. R. ( Regarding them -with a dark scowl.) Joke ! 
 
 Enos. By the way, neighbor, I thought I’d jest drive my team 
 under your shed, and give ’em a handful of hay, seem’ 1 ’d brought 
 the oP lauy over. 
 
 Mr. J. That’s all right, and welcome, Enos. 
 
 G. R. I thought you was in sich a desprit hurry ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, yes ; wanted to git my team to chawin’ on to suthin’" 
 — wouldn’t mind a little bite myself, nuther, if it’s convenient, ye 
 know. 
 
 Mr. J. Sartin ! sartin ! Just help me git gran’mother’s chist into 
 the entry, then we ’ll see what there is in the kitchen. ( Exit, o. f.) 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation ! ^ (Exit, i>. f. ) 
 
 G. R. That swindlin’ Crumlett ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Jackwood, r., with tea; Grandmother R. sneezes. 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. Here, mother ! 
 
 G. R. Who is that critter ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Her name is Charlotte Woods. She was travelling an’ got 
 lost, somehow, when father found her, an’ brought her home. 
 
 G. R. (Stirring her tea.) Fiddlesticks’ eend ! Do you know 
 anything about her? 
 
 Mrs. J. Why, no ; only she seems a re’l pleasant kind o’ person. 
 
 G. R. Bring the critter along here, an’ le’ me look at her ' 
 
 Enter Phcebe, r., with cake. 
 
 What’s that ? 
 
 Rhcehe. It’s sponge cake. I thought you’d like some. 
 
 G. R. Sponge cake ! heugli ! Le’ me taste on’t ! 
 
 Ph. (Aside.) I can’t do anything to please her ! 
 
 G. R. What tastin’ stuff! Strange, folks can’t have as hulsome 
 vittels as they used to have ! Everything turns my stomach ! Tea ! 
 did the water bile? 0, wal, I may as well give up eatin’ ! ( Takes a 
 
 pipe from her bag, and fills it.) Bring me a coal, Phoebe. 
 
 Mrs. J. (l. c., to Camille, coming forward.) You must be pre¬ 
 pared to put up with her odd notions. You ’ll do that, for my sake. 
 
 Cam. What would I not do, for your sake, you have been so kind 
 to me ! 
 
 Mrs. J. This is Charlotte Woods, mother. 
 
 G. R. (To Pikebe.) I vum ! you do mean to burn me to death 
 droppin’ hot ashes all over me! Heugh ! (Scowls at Camille., 
 What ye got there? (Smokes.) 
 
 Ph. (Showing Camille’s work.) Isn’t it beautiful ? 
 
 G. R. Heugh ! That’s a perty way to waste one’s time ! Time' 
 money — ’d ye know it ? 
 
 Cam. It’s sometimes better than money, I think. 
 
 G. R. Better ’n money ! better ’n money ! What on ’aith do ye 
 mean by that? (S7iatches the collar.) 0, I see ! This is very fan- 
 cical ! But what does the Scripturs say about vanities? You’d 
 better, enough on’t, be to work on suthin’ useful. 
 
 Cam. If I can do anything to gratify dear Phoebe, here, I am sa^ 
 isfied ; I would not think such work useless. 
 
ICJCNE 111 J 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 17 
 
 G. R. Gratify her ! Useless ! 
 
 C am. If it displeases you, I can take it out of your sight. 
 
 (Exit , L. i e ) 
 
 G. R. That guilty look ! that guilty look ! 
 
 Pli. I think she ’s a perfect beauty. 
 
 G. R. Beauty skin deep ! If your mother knows what’s good foi 
 you, miss, she’ll send the critter away from here, mighty quick ! 
 
 Ph. Mother won't send her away ! 
 
 G. R. What’s that you ’re mutterin’ ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. I don’t care ! I’d take Charlotte’s part, if all the world was 
 against her ! 
 
 G. R. (Taking out handkerchief.) Wal, wal ! I expect sich treat¬ 
 ment, an’ I must larn to put up with it. ( Weeps.) 
 
 Ph. There’s the good Samaritan again ! 
 
 G. R. My own darter’s darter sassin’ on me to my face ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Why did you speak so to your gran’mother? Go along 
 out of the room ! ( Exit Phcebe, l.) Come, mother, we want you 
 
 to be happy here ; she shan’t speak so to you ag’in. I ’ll go an’ fix 
 your room for ye. (Exit, r.) 
 
 G. R. (Suddenly stops weeping.) The trollop ! She wants me to 
 take her in hand ! I guess things will go a little different, now I ’ye 
 come ! (Gets up, and goes peeping around the room.) What’s here? 
 Where does Betsey keep her presarves, I wonder ? ( Goes to closet , r.) 
 I ’ll rout that hussy the fust thing ! Ho ! what’s here ? Sakes alive ! 
 an ol’ merino, sure’s I live ! ( Takes out Camille’s disguise.) Betsey 
 never had sich a gown. (Turning it.) It can’t be Phoebe’s. (Smell~ 
 ing it.) It’s that critter’s ! Where’s the pocket? What on ’arth ! 
 An old woman’s cap ! — Gray hair ! — Spectacles ! Marcy on me ! 
 It all comes to me, clear as day — cap, spectacles, and all ! 
 
 Enter Enos, d. f., eating a piece of pie. 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 G. R. (Rushing to the door , meets him face to face.) Where is that 
 hussy ? — Han’t you gone yit ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, no ; I ’pear to be doin’ perty well here. (Aside.) I’d 
 like a doughnut to go with this pie. (Exit, d. f.) 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, r. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Why, what is it, gran’mother ? 
 
 G. R. Where’s that Charlotte? Bring her in here ! W-w-w-hera 
 ia the critter ? 
 
 Enter Mrs. J., r., Phcebe, l., Camille, l., and Abimelech, r. 
 
 Mrs. Jackwot l. (r.) What’s the matter? 
 
 G. R. (R. c.) Matter ! look a’ this ’ere gown ! 
 
 Mrs. J. We’ve seen it ’afore, han’t we? Why, it’s Charlotte’s ! 
 
 G. R. I seen it ’fore ever you did ! A stragglin’ woman stopped 
 to Jacob’s, down to Sawney Hook, an’ she wore this very same gown, 
 an’ green spectacles, an’ false hair, I can take my oath ! (Puts o* 
 the spectacles.) ’T was this critter ! Look up, here ! How green y« 
 Jook ! W hat ye got to say for yourself, hey ? 
 
 Camille, (l.) I can make no explanation. 
 
 9 * 
 
18 KEIUHB6R JACKWOOD. [AC1 l 
 
 Mr. J. (l. c.) There an’t no need. It *s all rignt , 1 ’ll stan’ by 
 ye ! You han’t told us anything new, gran’mother. 
 
 Cam. But, to those who have trusted me, I would say this, from a 
 grateful heart. I have not willingly deceived any one ; it is my mis¬ 
 fortunes that have brought me here, and made me what I am. 
 
 Mr. J. Poor gal ! poor gal ! 
 
 Ph. (l. ) I believe you. I believe every word you say, and I wish 
 folks would mind their own business ! 
 
 Mr. J. Phoebe ! Phoebe ! 
 
 Abimelech. Pitch her out o’ the winder ; I would ! 
 
 G. R. You — you—sassy things ! 
 
 Pk. I don’t care ! I ’ll stand up for Charlotte ! I only wish some 
 folks, who treat her so, and pretend to be pious, was half as good as 
 she is. 
 
 Mr. J. Phoebe, I say ! ( To Camille, who appears faint and dis¬ 
 
 tressed.) Never mind it all! Poor gal! poor gal ! I ’ll stand by 
 you ! 
 
 Cam. Good Mr. Jackwood, I ’ve brought you trouble enough, 
 already ! 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t say a word about that ! There, sit still. Poor gal * 
 poor gal ! Come, gran’mother, don’t be unreasonable. Remember 
 your Good Samaritan. 
 
 Abim. Send her back to Sawney Hook ! darn her ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! 
 
 G. R. 0 dear ! 0 dear ! 0 dear ! ( Falls in Mrs. J.’s arms.) 
 
 Mrs. J. ( Eases her down upon a chair, r. c.) Don’t, mother ! 
 don’t, for pity’s sake ! 
 
 G. R. 0 dear ! 0 dear ! ( Handkerchief.) 
 
 Cam. (l.) Good Mr. Jackwood, let me go ! do let me go ! 
 
 Mr. J. (l. c.) Sit still, I tell ye ! Poor gal ! poor gal! Come, 
 gran’mother, no more o’ this, I beg on ye ! Le’s have peace an' 
 quiet, here. 
 
 G. R. I won’t stay in the house with that critter a day ! 
 
 Mr. J. Then you won’t stay in my house ! Sit still, poor gal! sit 
 still ! Come, come, gran’mother ! 
 
 G. R. I won’t! I’ve been trod under foot long enough ! She shall 
 go ! 
 
 Mr. J. And I say she shall stay ! There, there, poor gal ! 
 
 G. R. 0, 0, 0, 0 ! 
 
 Mr. J. No more o’ your tantrums ! I’m master here ! There 
 there, sit still ; you are among friends. We believe in doin’ as we ’i 
 be done by, in this house, and them that don’t, can go. I’ve yet to 
 larn to refuse a cup o’ water, or bread and shelter to any human 
 critter. There, there, poor gal ! poor gal ! (G. R. in a paroxysm. 
 
 Mrs. J. soothing her. Abimelech making sport of her , behind hei 
 back. Camille struggling to go ; Ph®be and Mr. J. detaining her 
 Quick :urtain.) 
 
IJEKE I.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 19 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — An Orchard. Hector seated on a rustic bench , c., read « 
 
 ing. A gun by his side ; a fishpole leaning against a tree. 
 
 Hector. What do these story-writers know about love? ( Flings 
 down book.) Here I have been watching the gate, and trying to read, 
 these two hours. I wonder what time it is. ( Looks at his ivatch .) 
 I ’ve been here just half an hour ! I ’ll go a-fisliing. No, I won’t, — 
 I ’ll shoot some squirrels. ( Takes up gun.) I won’t be a fool any 
 longer. I ’ll do something besides watching for a pretty face. Of 
 course, she can never be anything to me. 1 wonder— ( looks through 
 the trees) — no, that’s Bridget. Confound Bridget! I won’t go 
 a-hunting, either. ( Takes jishpole, and arranges the line.) I’ll make 
 some excuse, and ask her to go a-fisliing with me. She would n’t go ; 
 she’s as shy of me as a chicken of a hawk. Fishing’s a bore ! ( Flings 
 down the pole.) I ’ll shoot at a mark ; that’s what I ’ll do. Let me 
 see — that knot-hole. (Takes aim.) 
 
 Enter , l., Mr. and Mrs. Greenwich. 
 
 Mr. Greenwich. Mrs. Greenwich ! (Motions her to walk behind 
 
 him.) 
 
 Mrs. Greenwich. 0! (Falls behind, deferentially.) 
 
 Hec. The knot-hole is too near ; a baby could hit that. I ’ll shoot 
 at— (Turns, and levels the.gun at Mr. G.) 
 
 Mr. G. Ho ! young man ! take care ! (Steps behind Mrs. G.) 
 
 Hec. Hello ! Mrs. Greenwich, I came near making a widow of 
 you. 
 
 Mr. G. That’s a very dangerous instrument, young man ! 
 
 Mrs. G. We came to tell you that Robert — 
 
 Mr. G. (Crosses, c.) Mrs. Greenwich! — My son Robert is ex¬ 
 pected to arrive this afternoon, and we are inviting his friends to resort 
 to my house at early candle-lighting, this evening, to greet his return. 
 (A pinch of snuff.) 
 
 Mrs. G. We have been told there is a girl staying with your 
 mother — 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! I prefer that you should not interpose 
 your remarks while I am speaking. 
 
 Mrs. G. I was just going to say — 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! ( Waves her off.) It is my desire le 
 
 see all the friends of myself and my som Robert— 
 
 Mrs. G. I was going to ask if she is the same girl Mrs Jackwood 
 spoke of— 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! When that I am speaking — 
 
 Hec. It is a very proper question. It is the same person. 
 
 ... Mrs. G. 0, yes ! Charlotte Woods ! Mrs. Jack wood spoke in the 
 highest terms of her— (Mr. G. puts up his hand.) 0, excuse me . 
 
 Hec. But Mrs. Rigglesty came, and Neighbor Jackwood’s house 
 was not large enough for both. Jack wood threatened to drown that 
 amiable old lady in the creek ; but Charlotte did not like to be respons¬ 
 ible for the doubtful loss the family would sustain in consequence, so 
 
20 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT I* 
 
 she quietly went away. I found her the next morning at Mrs. Wing’s, 
 on the mountain road, when I was in search of an attendant for my 
 mother. We — that is, my mother — is delighted with her. 
 
 Mrs. G. Well, you must come and bring her. You and Robert 
 were such friends when you were in Mobile together ! — 0 ! excuse 
 me 
 
 Hec. Yes, we were rather intimate. 
 
 Mrs. G. But you left long before he did. 
 
 Hec. On the contrary, Robert left Mobile at least two weeks before 
 I did. 
 
 Mr. G. You amaze me ! 
 
 Hec. Is that news ? I supposed Robert kept you advised of his 
 movements. 
 
 Mrs. G. Why, he never wrote us — 
 
 Mr. G. I am speaking, Mrs. Greenwich ! — Son Robert must have 
 been some weeks away from his business, then, without warning me 
 of the fact. Unprecedented conduct! {A pinch of snuff.) Mrs. 
 Greenwich, we will go ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Don’t let it trouble you, Mr. Greenwich. 
 
 Mr. G. Your advice is uncalled for. Good-morning, sir. Mrs. 
 Greenwich ! {Exit, l., with Mrs. G.) 
 
 Hec. There, I have got Bob into a scrape ! I ’m not sorry. He is 
 up to some villany ; I suspected it when he left Mobile so suddenly 
 0, ’Squire Greenwich ! you’ve little idea what a wild chap that son 
 Robert of yours is ! — Heavens ! Charlotte ! 
 
 Enter Camille, r., with a small basket. She is crossing the stage , 
 when Hector intercepts her. She tyrjis her face from him. 
 
 Hec. 0 — I beg pardon ! I wish to inquire — What shall I say ? 
 {Aside.) How is my mother, this morning? 
 
 Camille. Better. Quite cheerful. {Going.) 
 
 Hec. {Detains her.) A moment. I want to talk with you — about 
 -— my mother. 
 
 Cam. Really, I cannot stop. I am going to Mr. Jackwood’s for 
 some pears to roast for her. 
 
 Hec. Give me the basket. There ! Now you cannot go till I am 
 ready to go with you. Why are you always so shy of me ? 
 
 Cam. Shy — of you ? 
 
 Hec. You turn your face from me now, as if you were afraid I 
 would throw vitriol into it. See ! I haven’t any vitriol ! Do you 
 know, there is something peculiar about your face. It reminds me — 
 How perplexing ! — ( Taps his forehead.) 
 
 Cam. {Aside.) 0 ! I cannot endure this ! Do please give me 
 the basket ! 
 
 Hec. Ask me in that voice, and I will give you anything — except 
 permission to leave me. I am the loneliest wretch in the world ! 
 
 Cam You, who have so many friends? 
 
 Hec. Friends ! My old schoolmates? Their talk is of oxen, horse 
 trades, and fat hogs ; — conversation agreeable enough in its way, but 
 unsatisfactory on the whole. If I wish to lead their minds to poetry, 
 art, or the miracles of life and growth, they branch out on the sub¬ 
 ject of onions, and tell what beds of ’em * me and father ’ raised last 
 year ! - 
 
 Cam. But the young ladies — 
 
BCENE I.] NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 21 
 
 Hec. Some of them are pretty and intelligent. But see how our 
 modern village girls are educated ! Conventionality and expediency 
 are their two hands The principal use of their ears seems to be, to 
 catch the answer to the important question. What will the world say ? 
 But the worst of all is, they have been taught by their wise mammas to 
 subordinate all their motives and aspirations to a low matrimonial 
 ambition. This is, in fact, the nose they follow, with one eye on con. 
 venience, the other on respectability. And they are so sharp at this 
 practice that it is dangerous for an unmarried fellow, like myself, to 
 approach them. It is refreshing to find one sensible girl, like you, 
 who has no thought of being fallen in love with. 
 
 Cam. Oil? That would be insane in me, indeed ! 
 
 Hec. And yet, the idea is not so absurd. Had I seen you no longer 
 ago than when I was in the South — 
 
 Cam. (Agitated.) 0 ! You must let me go now ! 
 
 Hec. (Holding her hands.) Who —what are you ? 
 
 Cam I — a child — a mere child ! 
 
 Hec. But children do not keep us at arms’ length. Children are 
 trusting and simple. 
 
 Cam. I cease to be a child when you would make me your friend. 
 
 Hec. And why not my friend? 
 
 Cam. I am not worthy ! 
 
 Hec. Not worthy ! Not worthy ! 0, Charlotte, do I not know 
 
 your heart ? 
 
 Cam. But you do not know my past. 
 
 Hec. Although you have told me nothing, I know how you have 
 suffered. And it is for this I would have you my friend, and be yours. 
 
 Cam. Remember— reflect! I am but your servant. 
 
 Hec. Servant! I hate the word. It sounds too much like slave. 
 (Camille covers her face with her hands.) There is no servitude to 
 the soul but ignorance and passion. Had I found you in the meanest 
 capacity —in absolute bondage, even — Nay, do not weep ! I have 
 grieved you ! 
 
 Cam. 0, no ; it is nothing — 
 
 Hec. An4 yet, I have touched some chord that suffering has made 
 sensitive. How you distrust me ! 
 
 Cam. (After a struggle within herself , looks up earnestly in his 
 face.) Hector Dunbury, you have been kind to me. I cannot deceive 
 you ! If you knew my history, you would put me from you ! —scorn 
 me ! It is the consciousness of this that shoots me through with pain, 
 when I remember myself, you, and the gulf between us. 
 
 Hec. Show me that gulf! 
 
 Cain. No, no ! It is there ! Believe me, it can never be passed 
 over ! There ! let me go ! (Snatches up the basket, which Hector 
 has placed upon the ground, and runs off the stage, l.) 
 
 Ha:. (Stupefied.) What mystery is this! It involves my life ! 
 Charlotte ! Charlotte ! (Exit, l.) 
 
 ' * If i 7 \ ! V 
 
 SCENE II.— A Roadside. Enter Hector, l., and Enos, b. 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation ! 
 
 Hector. She passed this way. My mother called me, or I should hav® 
 overtaken her. The immortal Cruinlett ! 
 
2^ NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 Eni s Good-mornin’, neighbor ! 
 
 Hec. Good-morning, Enos ! ( Crosses R.) 
 
 Enos. Look here, half a jiffy, neighbor. I ’m in suthiu’ tf a hurry , 
 myself— 
 
 Hec. So am I. 
 
 Enos. Is yer ma perty well, this mornin’ ? I mean, perty well for 
 her. 
 
 Hcc. Yes, thank you. Speak quick ! — what do you want ? 
 
 Enos. Must take time to inquire about our neighbors that’s sick. 
 I kind o’ feel more for sick folks than I did ’fore ma was took down. 
 I’m afraid ma an’t goin’ to be with us much longer. She don’t get 
 no better, as I see. 
 
 Hec. Well, another time — 
 
 Enos. Le’ me tell ye what’s for yer own interest to know, won’t 
 ye ? I’m in a desprit hurry, myself. 
 
 Hec. Despatch, then ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, you see— You don’t carry tobacker with ye, do ye? — 
 Wal, never mind ; though I can allers git along a good deal better if 
 I have a chaw. You see — 
 
 Hec. Come to the point ! 
 
 Enos. Wal. as I was goin’ to say, I was over the mountain, yis’day ; 
 and as I was drivin’ along there by the mill, ye know, I met a couple 
 o’ chaps in a buggy. Hello ! thinks says I, chance for a spec’iation 
 
 Hec. Well, well! 
 
 Enos. Don’t be in sich a pucker! I’m cornin’ to the p'int. 
 “ Hello ! says I, “ can you tell me where this road leads to ? ” says 
 I. “ Can’t say,” says they ; “ we ’re strangers in these parts,” says 
 they. “That’s a perty slick-lookin’ kind o’ beast you’re drivin,” 
 says I. “ Wal, yis,” says one of ’em, says he. “ She is ^ decent 
 bit of hoss flesh,” says he. 
 
 Hec. Well, well ! 
 
 E nos. Wait a minute. Wish I had a chaw o robacker ! The min¬ 
 ute I sot eyes on that mare, thinks says I to myself, I mutf. have that 
 critter. So, says I, “Ye an’t over an’ above anxious isi a swap, I 
 s’pose? be ye? ” says I. “ Don’t know,” says he. *• V hat ye got 
 there ?” says he. “Wal,” says I, “you can see for yourself,” 
 says I. 
 
 Hec. I can’t stop to hear this nonsense ! 
 
 Enos. Wait till I tell ye. He gi’ me a chaw. a/C we looked an’ 
 talked around. “ Wal,” says I, “ what do ye say to « dicker ? ” says 
 I. “ How much boot ye goin’ to gi’ me?” says I Says he, “I 
 guess the boot ’ll be on t’ other foot,” says he. “ In that case,” says 
 I, “ I may as well drive along. I’m in suthin’ of a hurry,” says I. 
 “ Give me ten dollars,” says he. Thinks says I, chance for spec¬ 
 ’iation ! “ Could n’t think o’ sich a thing,” says I. “ Tell ye what 
 
 I will do, though. I ’ll call it an even swap.” I’d no idee he ’d tak6 
 me up on’t. But, by jingoes ! he did. So you may believe I jerked 
 up perty quick when the fish bit. “ Shift the luthers,” says I. 
 Amthe way we stripped off them ’ere hai'nesses was a caution ! “I’m 
 in suthin’ of a hurry,” says I. 
 
 Hec. What has all this rigmarole to do with me? 
 
 Enos. Wal, ye see, that ’ere mare — she’s jest the kind o’ beasu 
 now, you want. 
 
 Hec What an everlasting fool I am * ( Rushes from the since a 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 28 
 
 SCENE II.] 
 
 Enos. Wal,— that Hector ! he’s struck all of a heap by suthin’. 
 Hello ! it’s that Charlotte Woods ! Jingoes ! I to^k a notion to that 
 gal myself, an’ if ’t hadn’t been for ’Tildy — 
 
 Enter Matilda, l. 
 
 Matilda. Enos ! 
 
 Enos. Hello ! why, what’s to pay, ’Tild} r ? 
 
 Mat. I all out of breath ! I ’ve run so ! 
 
 Enos. Sho ! What is it ? Chance for a spec’lation ? 
 
 Mat. ’T an’t genteel to run, I know. Was that Charlotte Wc 1 
 saw going across the lot ? 
 
 Enos. Overyender? Yes. What about Charlotte Woods ? 
 
 Mat. {Simpering.) 0, nothing. That an’t what I got to te you. 
 
 Enos. Come ! don’t act so thunderin’ silly ! 
 
 Mat. Silly? 0, I’m silly, am I? Glad you told me ! (/ tiling 
 
 away.) 
 
 Enos. You know what I mean ! Silly — of course it’s ailly, to 
 say you’ve got suthin’ to tell a feller, an’ then act that way ! Why 
 can’t ye out with it — as I allers do ? I never talk round, and keep 
 folks waitin’ ! Come ! what is it? 
 
 Mat. 0, if I’m silly, then it’s no matter ! 
 
 Enos. Yes, it is matter, too ! Don’t be offish, ’Til<£^ ! By jingoes ! 
 I ’ll break otf ! 
 
 Mat. Jest as well ! If you want to break off, I’m willin’, I’m sure ! 
 ( Tosses her head.) ’T an’t as though I was in such a great hurry to 
 get married ! Good fish in the sea as ever was caught ! ( Going.) 
 
 Enos. Look here ! Le’s have it understood. If you want to break 
 the engagement — 
 
 Mat. I han’t said anything about breaking the engagement. ’T was 
 you said you wanted to break off. 
 
 Enos. I ? I don’t want to break off ! If you want to, — why, of 
 course ; only I shall expect you to gi’ me back that tooth-brush I give 
 ye. I can find somebody else that wants it. 
 
 Mat. I guess I can find somebody else to give me a tooth-brush 1 
 I might ’ave got Hector Dunbury, if I’d a been a mind to. 
 
 Enos. 0 ! ye could, hey ! 0 ! 
 
 Mat. They say he’s going to marry Charlotte Woods. You did n’t 
 know I could a’ been in her place, did ye ? 
 
 Enos. Wal.„ no, I did n’t exac’ly ! Did yeu ? 
 
 Mat. He come for me to go an’ take care of his mother, the very 
 day he found Charlotte and carried her home. I’d been two terms to 
 Kiltney, an’ Mrs. Dunbury wanted me for a companion. 
 
 Enos. 0, she wanted ye for a companion, did she ? 
 
 Mat. I should ’ave gone, only you know I an’t obleeged to go out 
 for a living. So Miss Woods got the place ; but I don’t care,— she ’a 
 welcome ! Though, if I’d taken up with the invitation, who knows 
 what might have happened ? 
 
 Enos. {Caressing her.) Ye don’t mean to say anybody could a’ 
 got ye away from me, do ye ? 
 
 Mat. Go ’way ! if you want to break off ! {Crying.) 
 
 Enos. I don’t want to break off, I tell ye ! We ’ll git married 
 any time you say. Ma’s health is failin’ of her so, I shall want ye to 
 oome and take charge o’ things — the sooner the better. 
 
24 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. [ACT II 
 
 Mat. 0, you want me jest for a housekeeper, do ye ? 0 ! glad you 
 told me ! 
 
 Enos. There ! by jingoes ! I won’t have anything more to say to 
 ye ! Good-by ! 
 
 Mat. Enos ! See here ! I an’t mad. 
 
 Enos An’t mad ? What makes ye such a thunderin’ fool ? I tell 
 ye, I’m goin' ! 
 
 Mat. I han’t told ye yet what I was going to ! 
 
 Enos. ( Coming back.) Why don’t ye, then? You know I’m in 
 a desprit hurry ! 
 
 Mat. Have you seen Mr. and Mrs. Greenwich ? 
 
 Enos. {Sharply.) No ! I han’t ! 
 
 Mat. ( With a significant simper.) I have. 
 
 Enos. Wal, what of it ? 
 
 Mat. You ’ll be tickled when you know ! 
 
 Enos. Let me be tickled, then ! Wal, ef you an't! — Now I am 
 goin’ ! 
 
 Mat. If you go you won’t hear about it. Robert’s coming home 
 this evening ; there’s going to be a large party at ’Squire Green 
 wich’s ; and me and you’s invited ! 
 
 Enos. Sho ! You don’t say, ’Tildy ! 
 
 Mat. You may thank me ! I’d be invited, of course ! and as me 
 and you’s engaged — 
 
 Enosi Wal, by jingoes— chance for a spec’lation ! 
 
 Mat. An’t it nice? 
 
 Enos. Wal, — I swanny ! What in Sam Hill has got into ’Squire 
 Greenwich ? He never did sich a thing ’fore in his life ! 
 
 Mat. It’s for Robert. 
 
 Enos. Do you think he cares so much for Rob as that ? You ’re 
 green, ’Tildy ! 
 
 Mat. If ’t an’t that, what is it ? 
 
 Enos. Why, don’t you see? Chance for a spec’lation ! ’Squire 
 Greenwich is goin’ to run for Congress, — don’t you see ? It’s plain 
 as a brickbat ! He wants to make himself pop’lar. 
 
 Mat. 0, yes ! How sharp you be, Enos ! ( Admiringly.) 
 
 Enos. Wal, I be some sharp, I allow. Guess I know beans, when 
 the bag’s ontied. We ’ll go, by jingoes, ’Tildy ! An’ see here, — 
 we won’t quarrel any more, on the strength of that, will we ? 
 
 Mat. Quarrel ? Who’s quarrelled ? I han’t quarrelled ! 
 
 Enos. Why, yes, you did ! You begun it! 
 
 Mat. No, I did n’t ! 
 
 Enos. I say you did ! Come ! 
 
 Mat. You always lay everything to me ! You ’re real mean ! 
 
 Enos. There ! that’s enough ! If I’m mean, of course you won’t 
 want anything more to do with me. We ’ll break off ! 
 
 Mat. Enos ! don’t go ! 
 
 Enos. Good-by ! If I’m mean ! ( Going.) 
 
 Mat. Don’t, Enos ! You ’ll kill me ! ( Runs after him , sobbing.) 
 
 E?ios. Good-by, I say ! We ’ll break off ! Ye need n’t cry — you 
 tried that on before ! If we can’t get along without quarrellin’ — 
 
 {Exit, R., Matilda following him ) 
 
B£EKE III.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 5.5 
 
 SCENE III. — Mr. Jackwood’s Door-yard. Set house , r. 4 a 
 j Barn, ^c., flats. Fields, farm-liouses, mountains in the distance. 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. {Without, l. u. e.) Git out! git out! 
 ( Dog barks.) Help ! help, somebody ! help ! Bim’lech ! Betsey ! 
 0 ! 0 ! 0 ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, from house. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Who’s hurt? 
 
 Enter Abimelech, l. u. e. 
 
 Who was that screamin’ so, Bim’lech? 
 
 Abimelech. {Convulsed with laughter.) It’s her! 
 
 Mr. J. Her? Who? Your gran’mother ? 
 
 Abim. I’m glad on’t ! Darn her ! 
 
 Mr. J. Stop your laughin’ ! 
 
 Abim. She neeu n’t a’ got into the boat ! 
 
 Mr. J. {Smiling.) Has she been in the boat ? Quit your laughin’, 
 I tell ye ! 
 
 Abim. You ’d a laf’t ! 
 
 Mr. J. {Chokes back his mirth, and looks grave.) No, I would n’t. 
 She’s your gran’mother. Should n’t laugh at her ! 
 
 Abim. She went to get an apple out o’ the crick — I was watchin’ 
 behind the bushes — 
 
 Mr. J. Boy ! {Laughs.) 
 
 Abim. She could jest tickle it with the tips of her fingers — she was 
 in the boat, reachin’ over, and groanin’ about her poor old back — 
 Mr. J. And you have to laugh about it ! 
 
 Abim. Wal, who could help it? If you’d seen Rover, when I set 
 him on ! — 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! did you set the dog on to your gran’mother ? 
 Abim. I only jest rubbed his ears a little, and said, Sick ’em, Rove ! 
 Mr. J. 0, that was all, was it, — you rogue ! 
 
 Abim. 0, ho ! ho ! You should have seen him jump on to her 
 back ! Casouse ! both of ’em went together into the crick ! 
 
 Mr. J. {Laughing.) B — B — Bim’lech ! — don t I tell ye not to 
 laugh ! 
 
 Abim. You ’re laughin’ yourself ! 
 
 Mr. J. I? — I’m provoked with ye! Git yer gran’mother into 
 the crick, and then laugh at her ! Away with ye ! Go and call yer 
 mother ! {Laughs, but stops suddenly, as Abimelecii looks around.) 
 Start ! {Exit Abimelech, into the house.) I never see the beat o’ 
 that boy’s mischief! {Exit behind the house, it. e. r.) 
 
 G. R. { Without.) 0 dear ! I’m drownded ! Betsey ! Git out, 
 you cur ! {Dog barks.) 
 
 Enter,from the house, Mrs. Jackwood. 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. Where is she ? How could she fall into the creek ? 
 
 Enter Camille, l., laughing. 
 
 Why, Charlotte ! how do you do ! 
 
 Camille. It’s wicked for me to laugh — but I have been so much 
 amused ! 
 
 8 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 L act n 
 
 2(5 
 
 Mrs. J. I don’t wonder. Bim’leck has gone into fits, from seeing 
 his gran’mother tumble into the crick. Has she got out safe? 
 
 Cam. Hector helped her — they are coming. — 
 
 Mrs. J. Walk right into the house. Father ’ll be so glad to see 
 you ( Exeunt into house.) 
 
 Enter, l. u. e., Hector and Mrs. Rigglesty, with wet shoes and a 
 
 dripping apron 
 
 G. R. (r.) I’ll larn her — the trollop ! 
 
 Hector, (l.) Who \s a trollop? 
 
 G. R. That Charlotte ! She was laffin’ right to my face ! 
 
 Hec. If she’s human, she could n’t help it. You ’re a pleasing ami 
 picturesque spectacle, grandmother. 
 
 G. R. Spectacle ! — I ’ll have that dog killed ! — Jest look at that 
 apern ! 
 
 Hec. You seem to bear a peculiar spite against Miss Woods. 
 
 G. R. Heugh ! I’ve knowed her these ten year ! 
 
 Hec. Charlotte Woods ! 
 
 G. R. She belongs to North Nincum, where my son Enoch lives. 
 He sent me a newspaper, with a piece in it that tells all about her. 
 
 Hec. About Charlotte Woods ! 
 
 G. R. Her real name is Woodroofe. I cut the piece out — I got it 
 in my pocket, somewheres. Thei’e it is — wet ! might a knowed 
 ; t would be wet ! (Hector seizes the paper.) Now, if I don’t come 
 up with the hussy ! {Aside.) 
 
 Enter , from the house, Mrs. Jackwood and Camille. 
 
 Hec. {Excited, reading.) Disgraced her family ! fled from home 
 in disguise ! 
 
 G. R. ( Spreading her apron out to dry.) There’s Betsey ! — O’ 
 0 ! my back ! Bring a chair, somebody ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, u. e. r. 
 
 Mr. Jaclavood. {Cheerily.) What’s the trouble, gran’mother? 
 Been in the crick, have ye? Lucky ye did n’t git drownded ! {Laughs 
 aside.) 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. {Bringing a chair from the house.) Set right 
 down, mother. (Mrs. J. helps her to the seat.) 
 
 G. R. 0 dear ! 0 dear ! {Aside.) I’ve give that Hector a dose f 
 
 Mr. J. There, there, gran’mother, you an’t dead, arter all. ( Ob - 
 serving Camille.) Bless my heart ! I’m glad to see you. Welcome 
 home ag’in ! 
 
 Camille. Good Mr. Jackwood ! {They retire up the stage, s.) 
 
 Hec. ( With a dark glance at Camille.) So beautiful and 89 
 young ! 0, distraction ! {Strikes his forehead.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Let me take off -your wet shoes and stoekin’s. 
 
 G. R. No. never mind. 0 dear ! 
 
 Mrs. J. You’d better let me. 
 
 G. R. 0, don’t trouble yourself! {Undoing her shoes.) 
 
 Mr. J. Ho, Hector ! I was so glad to see our Charlotte ag’in I for< 
 got you. Uow are ye? 
 
 Hec Better ' 
 
 Mr. J. Have you been ailin’ ? 
 
BCENE III ] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 21 
 
 Hec. A slight affection of the heart. It’s cured, now. 
 
 Mr. J. Glad to hear it. These affections of the heart are bad. 
 
 G. R. Sakes alive ! look at that shoe ! Them new pair, ’t I bought 
 o’ that plaguy pedler o’ yourn, and paid ten cents more for ’n I ever 
 pay for shoes, on account of the ex try soles ! 
 
 Hec. You are. young yet, gran’mother. When you have come to 
 my years you will learn to beware of extra appearances. As with 
 people, so with shoes. Give me a glass of water, Mrs. Jackwood, W’e 
 are promised fish for dinner, and I have a foreshadowing of thirst. 
 
 Mr. J. Our well 3 give out, this summer. Where’s Phoebe ? 
 
 Mrs. J. She 's gone to the spring, for water. 
 
 G, R. She’s off readin’ that nasty novil book, somewheres ! [ *d 
 
 burn it up, if she was a child of mine ! 
 
 Hec. If she was a child of mine — 
 
 G. R. Wal, what if she was ? 
 
 Hec. Then you would be my mother. 
 
 G. R. There ’s that hateful Bim’lech ! 
 
 Enter Abimelf.ch, r. u. e., and down on l. 
 
 Abimclech. Wal, what’s Bim’lech done, I’d like to know ! 
 
 G. R. l)o somebody help me ! 0 dear, it kills me to move ' 
 
 Mr. J. { Assisting her.) Come, come, gran’mother ; you can 
 walk, I guess, if you try. 
 
 G. R. 0 dear ! 0 dear ! ( Rising, but falls back again.) 
 
 Cam. How do you do, Abimelecli ! 
 
 Jlbim. ( Bashfully .) Pretty well. {Takes a clay pipe from his 
 pocket.) 
 
 Cam. What do you do with a pipe ? 
 
 Abim. It ’3 hern. I’m goin’ to put some powder in’t, and blow 
 her up, to pay her ! 
 
 Hec. I take it, then, she blows you up, sometimes. 
 
 Abim. I put thistles in her han’kerchief t’ other day. Golly ! 
 did n’t she scream ? 
 
 Hec. Charlotte ! I have made a discovery. 
 
 Cam. {Aside, with consternation.) Heavens ! 
 
 Hec. It is — there’s a good deal of sham in this world, and — 
 Grandmother Rigglesty is a humbug ! {Exit, l.) 
 
 Cam. Hector ! Mr. Dunbury ! One word, I entreat! {Exit, l.) 
 
 G. R. 0 dear ! 0 dear ! I never can git into the house, in this 
 world ! 
 
 Mr. J. Come, come ! You can walk, if you only think you can. 
 
 A'oim. {Lets fall the pipe.) By darn ! . 
 
 G. R. What’s that? I declare ! {Starts up.) 
 
 Abim. Might keep your nasty pipe out of the way . 
 
 G. R. You sass-box ! {Catches up the chair , and rushes upon 
 Abimelech.) 
 
 Mr J. Don’t ye run, boy ! 
 
 jlbim . Keep her off, then ! {Seizes hold, of the chair.) 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! Bim’lech ! Gran’mother ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Mother ! mother ! don’t! 
 
 Abim. Darn her ! let her come ! 
 
 Mr. J. Do ye hear? Bim’lech ! Gran’mother ! I ’ll tumble ye inti 
 the crick, together ' Give me that chair ! ( J Frenches the chair frov 
 
£8 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. W ACT II. 
 
 them. G. R. catches up her apron, and lashes Abimelece with iL 
 Aiumelech sets out to run, but falls. She stumbles over him ' 
 
 SCENE IV.- d Lane, g. 1 Enter Piicebe, l., reading, and carry - 
 
 ing a pail of water. A horn in the distance, n. 
 
 Phcebe. They ’re blowing the horn for me to come home. 0 dear ' 
 I never shall get through with this book. {Horn.) W-e-e-e-11! I’ll 
 read this page down. I shall die if I don’t find out what it was Melissa 
 saw. {Horn.) W-e-e-e-11 ! It ’s too bad ! I wish I could just finish 
 this chapter! ( Exit, r., reading. A stone thrown in. She rushes back 
 without the pail, and off, l., screaming.) 0, 0, 0 1 
 
 Enter, r., Hector and Camille. 
 
 Hector. There’s unexpected game ! 
 
 Camille. I’m afraid she is hurt. 
 
 Hec. Not she. else she would scream less, according to the rule of 
 shams. If a man is frightened, he blusters ; if hurt, he says little ; 
 if killed, he maintains a wise silence. 
 
 Cam. Phoebe, are you hurt? 
 
 Ph. {Reenters, l., with wondering looks.) I guess so! I ’rn so 
 soart I don’t know a word I do, or anything I say ! 
 
 Hec. Come here, Phoebe, and let me look at that hole in your head. 
 
 Ph. Is there one ? {Puts up her hand.) Where? 
 
 Hec. It opens every time you speak. ( Takes her hand, and places 
 her finger in her mouth.). There. {Closes her teeth upon it.) 
 
 Ph. 0 ! that’s just like you. Hector Dunbury ! If ’twas anybody 
 else, I never’d speak to you again ! What was that came through the 
 bushes ? 
 
 Hec. A hailstone, Phoebe. 
 
 Ph. A hailstone? You threw it ! 
 
 Hec. And it was a friendly hail. You should have hailed me 
 pleasantly in return, instead of running off in a fright. 
 
 Ph. I guess you’d have been frightened to have a great rock come 
 thrashing through the bushes, when you was reading ! 
 
 Cam. What book have you ? 
 
 Ph. Alonzo and Melissa. I set up till twelve o’clock, last night, and 
 got so excited over it I could n’t sleep a wink, but see balls of fire, and 
 heard doors slam, and felt cold hands on my arm, all night. {Horn 
 blows.) 
 
 Hec. You are a foolish girl ! Good-by ! Your mother is blowing 
 the bora for you. {Crosses, L.) 
 
 Ph. Don’t hurry off, so ! 
 
 Hec. I ’ll bequeath you that fatal stone, Phoebe. It has waked you 
 from one dream of romance, and it may save you from many another, 
 if you treasure it as a type of man’s heart, and contemplate it whenever 
 you think of falling in love. — True, Charlotte? 
 
 Cam, If that is a type of man’s heart, what is a type of woman’s? 
 
 Hec. Still a stone ; but it should be hollow ! { Exit, l.) 
 
 Ph. Au’t lie the strangest mortal you ever see ? I ’ll keep this stone, 
 if I don’t. ( Rot's it in her apron.) 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 2$ 
 
 Cam. Good-by, Phoebe ! Be a good girl ! 
 
 Ph. Don’t go ! 
 
 Cum. I must ! Be good and be happy, Phoebe ! 
 
 (Exit C.vMl lie, l. ) 
 
 “Robert Greenwich appears, creeping stealthily, r. 
 
 Ph. Don’t go ! There an’t nobody in this world cares for me ! I 
 wish I had somebody to love me, as Melissa had. (Horn blows.) 
 Well ! I wish they’d stop blowing that old horn ! 
 
 Robert. (In a whisper.) Phoebe ! Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. (Frightened.) Who’s that? Who’s there? Since I’ve been 
 reading about those horrid nights in the old mansion, I’m so nervous 1 
 
 Rob. (Coming forward.) Phoebe! 
 
 Ph. 0 ! Robert Greenwich ! 
 
 Rob. (Imposes silence.) \Sh ! This way ! 
 
 Ph. What a stranger you are ! 
 
 Rob. ’Sh ! (Aside.) I must flatter the little goose. See here! (Kisses 
 her.) 
 
 Ph. 0, I should think you’d be ashamed ! (Laughing.) 
 
 Rob. I am. Who was that just went from here ? 
 
 Ph. Hector. 
 
 Rob. And who else ? 
 
 Ph. Charlotte Woods. 
 
 Rob. ( Kissing her again.) Who’s Charlotte Woods ? 
 
 Ph. (Pouting.) If you kiss me again, I ’ll— (Aside.) lie’s g^ 
 a splendid moustache, any way. — Now, be decent, Bob Greenwich 1 
 Somebody ’ll see us ! 
 
 Rob. (Aside.) The little fool ! Who is that Charlotte—what dia 
 you call her ? 
 
 Ph. Charlotte Woods ! 0, there’s' something real strange about 
 
 her. When she first came to our house, she was dressed like an oid 
 woman. 
 
 Rob. (Excited.) It is she ! It is she! (Crosses, l.) Good-by, 
 Phoebe ! Here ! (Comes back , and kisses her.) Good-by ! 
 
 Ph. Why, what’s your hurry ? 
 
 Rob. (Aside.) She shall not escape me again ! Phoebe, I hear 
 that my respectable father has been inviting a crowd in to give me a 
 welcome home, to-night. You ’ll come, of course ! 
 
 Ph. 0 ! I shall be delighted ! 
 
 Rob. You know this person we spoke of— this Miss Woods. Can’t 
 you bring her? I ’ll give you forty great apples, if you will, and as 
 many kisses. 
 
 Ph. I ’ll try. 
 
 Rob. But don’t say I spoke of it. Mum’s the word, Phoebe * 
 3ood-by ! (Aside.) .0 ! this is worth a hundred thousand dollars J 
 
 (Exit, l.) 
 
 Ph. I never was kissed by a moustache, before ! It’s real nice. I 
 didn’t think I should like it; but I do. (Horn blows.) Y’all 
 Where did I leave my pail of water ? 
 
 Enter Enos, r., drinking out of the j ail 
 
 Tou great lubber ! 
 
 Enos G’ve a feller a drink, won’t ye ? (Drinks' ' 
 
 S* 
 
{0 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. [AO? II 
 
 Ph. Come ! Enos Crnmlett' 
 
 Enos. Wait half a jiffy, can’t ye? I was pert} nigh choked 1 
 
 [Drinks. Horn blows.) 
 
 Ph. {Crying.) I shall have to go back after another pailful ! 
 Enos. You don’t s’pose I’m goin’ to drink all of it, do ye ? 
 
 Ph. But you ’ve drinked out of the pail ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, I don’t slobber ! Here, take your pail ! Don’t make 
 eich a ’tarnal fuss about a little grain o’ water ! ’T an’t over .an’ 
 above cold, uuther. Come, don’t cry ! I’m goin’ over to your hous* 
 to see if I can borry a standin’ collar, to wear to the party to-night. 
 I ’ll carry the pail for ye, shall I ? May as well take toll ! {Drinks.) 
 I’d kiss ye, if I had a moustache, like that Greenwich feller. {Horn 
 blows.) 
 
 Ph. {Weeping.) Well! I’m coming. 
 
 Enos. Wal! we’re cornin’! {Drinks.) {Exeunt, r.; 
 
 SCENE V.- d Room in Mr. Greenwich’s House; c. doors used 
 
 interior. Mr. G., Mrs. G., and Etty discovered, seated. 
 
 Mr. Greenwich, (-c.) Now, my daughter, I will hear you recite 
 those varses with which you are to edify the company this evening. 
 
 Etty. {Rising r.) Yes, father. 
 
 Mr. G. When you say Yes, father, you should execute a slight 
 curtsey. Try again. 
 
 Etty. {Curtseying.) Yes, father. 
 
 Mr. G. Better, my daughter. {Takes snuff.) 
 
 Mrs. Greenwich, (l.) Hold your hands so, Etty. 
 
 Mr. G. I will dictate, Mrs. Greenwich ! — What is the subject of 
 your varses, my daughter ? 
 
 Etty. My Brother's Return. 
 
 Mr. G. Give the rising inflection to brother, and the falling inflec¬ 
 tion to return ; thus : My Brother's — Return. 
 
 Etty. My Brother's Return. 
 
 Mrs. G. You must hold up your head, my child. 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich, your assistance is not required ! Remem 
 her you are a second wife, Mrs. Greenwich ! which reminds me to say 
 that I shall expect due deference shown to my remarks in the presence 
 of our company this evening ; on which occasion, when that ’Squire 
 Greenwich speaks, it will be proper for Mrs. Greenwich to keep 
 sdence. My daughter, hold your head in this manner. Not So, but 
 so. 
 
 Enter Robert, r. 
 
 Robert. {Gayly.) Hello, sis ! How d’ye do, mother? How are 
 ye, old one ? 
 
 Mr. G. {Imposes silence on Mrs. G. and Etty, who are about to 
 speak.) Mrs. Greenwich ! daughter ! Son Robert, you amaze me ! 
 
 Rob. That’s more than I bargained for. I only meant a surprise. 
 
 1 left my traps at the tavern, and legged it across lots, at the rate of 
 
 2 : 40 ! {Blows.) 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! daughter ! silence! Son Robert, you 
 astound me ! 
 
 Hob. 0, I beg pardon ! ( Flings himself on a chair . B ) 
 
*CENE V. j NEIGHBOR JACSWOOT.- 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! — If you are indeed my son Robert! 
 
 Rob. Well ! I ’ve always indulged the notion that my mother — 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert, this levity is unseemly ! You appear entirely 
 to have forgotten the discipline of your early years. 
 
 Mrs. G. 0, well ! He has been so long from home — 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! — What could you be thinking of, son 
 Robert, on your return, to address both your sister and your step¬ 
 mother before me? Was that showing due respect to the paternal 
 head? Then you address me as the old one ! Your baggage you 
 denominate traps! and you speak of legging it across lots, with e 
 phrase borrowed from the turf ! 
 
 Mrs. G. Why, I did n’t see anything out of the way — 
 
 Mr. G. I am speaking, Mrs. Greenwich ! ( Takes snvff.) 
 
 Rob. Well, I’m sorry to have displeased you. But I was so glad 
 to get home, I quite forgot myself. {Aside.) I must keep on the right 
 side of the old one, any way. 
 
 Mr. G. Moreover, son Robert, I have been credibly informed that 
 you left Mobile some time before you saw fit to advise me of the fact. 
 
 Rob. (Aside.) Here ; s a gd ! If the old one should find out — 
 
 Mrs. G. I wouldn’t bring that up now, ’Squire Greenwich ! 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! do you assume to dictate to the pater¬ 
 nal head ? 
 
 Rob. All that is easily explained. The hot weather, the unhealthy 
 season in Mobile, — then, again, business was so dull,— and, as I 
 wish to make you anxious about me, I thought I would wait and bring 
 the news myself. (Aside.) How natural it comes for me to lie ! 
 
 Mr. G. But this long delay, son Robert. ' 
 
 Rob. I had some business to transact for our firm in New York. It 
 took me longer than I anticipated. 
 
 Enter , l., Mr. Rukely and Bertha Wing. 
 
 (Aside.) Thank heaven for the interruption ! 
 
 Mrs. G. 0, here is our company ! 
 
 Mr. G. (Waving her behind him.) Mrs. Greenwich! — Mr. 
 ftukely, you are welcome to my roof. I greet you, Miss Wing i 
 (GYosses, R.) , 
 
 Bob. Old friends, how are you ? 
 
 Mr. G. Daughter, your recitation is postponed. (Exit, r 1 
 
 Mrs. G. Make yourselves quite at- home here. 
 
 (Exeunt Mrs. G. and Etty, R.) 
 
 Rob. (Conversing with Bertha.) Yes ; but I have been in town 
 Hig enough already to hear the report. 
 
 Mr. Rukely. (Comingforward.) What is that ? 
 
 Rob. That Miss Wing, here, is about to become Mrs. Rukely. 
 
 Mr. R. Report is not so far out of the*way, this time. 
 
 Rob, I congratulate you both : you, Mr. Rukely, on your choice 
 of so gentle and worthy a creature as our good Bertha, here ; and you, 
 Bertha, on forming a matrimonial connection with an eloquent minis¬ 
 ter of the Gospel. (Aside.) How she can stomach that old hypocrite, 
 beats my philosophy ! 
 
 Mr. R. We do not marry from any frivolous motive, but from a 
 $eep sense of duty. 
 
 Rob. You are right there. Marriage is a matter of religion. 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT U 
 
 82 
 
 Bertha. We think so. 
 
 Rob. Accordingly, when I assume the yoke matrimonial, it shall b* 
 with some fair saint, with charms to render the kingdom of heaven 
 attractive. It’s my only chance. Ah ! Hector. 
 
 Enter Hector, l. 
 
 Hector. Bertha, how do you do ! Mr. Rukely ! 
 
 Rob. ( Extending his hand.) And me ! 
 
 Hec. And you, B)b ! I suppose I must give you my hand ; but it 
 goes against my ins.tinct. 
 
 Rob. Instinct ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Hec. Mr. Rukely, explain, if you can, my relation to this good* 
 nature! Beelzebub ! 
 
 Rob. This is his peculiar style of joking. He is marvellously 
 funny, if you only understand him. “ Beelzebub 5 5 is good ! 
 
 Hec. We are friends by habit, but by instinct I hate him. 
 
 Rob.' More wit! 
 
 Mr. R. He seems to me to be rather in earnest. 
 
 Rob. You don’t know him ; I do. 
 
 Hec. No, you don’t, Bob Greenwich , and you never will, until we 
 some day quarrel royally, and thenceforward stand to each other for 
 nrecisely what we are. 
 
 Rob. Quarrel ! You and I ! 0, Damon and Pythias ! is it possi¬ 
 
 ble? Let me tell you. (To Mr. Rckely.) I was with him in the 
 South, in days of temptation. I watched over him with a shepherd’s 
 care, and. brought him every night, like a tender lamb, into the fold 
 of virtue. Hector, my Trojan! will you come? I have something 
 to say to you. 
 
 Hec. Well, I am not proud ; I am willing to go with sinners. 
 
 Rob. More wit ! His peculiar style ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 (Exeunt Hector and Robert, r.) 
 
 Mr. R 4 What makes you tremble so ? 
 
 Ber. Do I ? Leave me a little while ! I am very foolish ? 
 
 Mr. R. (Crosses, r.) Be calm and strong, Bertha ! (Exit, R.) 
 
 Ber. Calm and strong ! 0, my rebellious heart ! Why can I not 
 
 love that man ? 
 
 Enter Camille, l. 
 
 Camille. (Aside.) 0, why did I come here? He urged me so 1 
 Then Phoebe came and urged me, and his kindness is so winning — 
 
 Ber. Charlotte ! 
 
 Cam. 0, Bei*tha Wing ! You are my friend. Tell me — this Rol 
 ert Greenwich, who is he ? 
 
 Ber. The son of ’Squire Greenwich — don’t you know ? 
 
 Cam . Yes ; but where —» do you know where he has been ? 
 
 Ber At the South ; I believe mostly in Mobile. 
 
 Cam. (Aside.) Mobile ! 
 
 Ber. What is the matter, dear Charlotte ? 
 
 Cam. Bertha, if you are my friend, save me ; help me leave thif 
 house ! 
 
 B p r. What do you fear ? 
 
 Cam. I! is he ; I cannot meet him ; I must fly ! I will tell you all 
 Bertha ! 
 
60*NE V.J 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACA. VOOD. 
 
 84 
 
 Ber. How strange ! This way ! I will conceal you - — 
 
 Enter Robert, r., followed by Hector and several guests. 
 
 Cam. 0, haste ! Save me, Bertha ! ( Meets Robert face to face.) 
 
 0 ,1 am lost ! 
 
 Robert. Not a word ! Stay where you are, and you are safe. —Ber» 
 tha, will you please introduce me to your friend ? 
 
 Ber. Mr. Greenwich — Miss Woods. 
 
 Rob. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Woods. Allow 
 ne to introduce you to a few of our guests. 
 
 Cam. (Aside.) Heaven help me ! 
 
 (Takes his arm , and they ivalk.) 
 
 Hec. The impudent scoundrel ! 
 
 Enter , r., Mrs. Greenwich, Mrs. Jackwood, and Grandmother 
 Rigglesty, looking curiously about the room. 
 
 Mrs. Greenwich. Sit here, Mrs. Rigglesty. How do you do, to-day ? 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. (r.) 0,1 an’t a bit well ! Sich a pain as I 
 have all the hull of the time, from my left shoulder, clean down the 
 small of my back ! I can turn my head so ( turns it over her left 
 shoulder), but I can’t turn it so (turns it over her right shoulder), for 
 the life of me ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Rukely and Mr. Greenwich, talking, r. Phxebe and 
 Etty, c. d. ; Abimelecii pinning their dresses together. Enos and 
 
 Matilda, c. d. 
 
 Enos. Wal ! chance for a spec’lation ! There’s a tarnal snarl of 
 people here, any way ! Say, ’Squire Greenwich, if you hear of any¬ 
 body ’d like to swap for a nice four-year-old mare- lie’s talking ; 
 
 he can’t hear.—See here, ’Tildy ! You an’t goin’ to dance with 
 nobody but me, be ye ? hey ? 
 
 Matilda, (r. c.) How jealous you be ! 
 
 Enos. (l. c.) Jealous ! I an’t jealous the least grain in the world ! 
 By jingoes ! I ’ll ask Bertha Wing to dance with me ! 
 
 Ph. (Down on l.) Bim ! What you doing? 
 
 G. R. Law, sus ! It’s that swindlin’ Crumlett ! 
 
 Hector. (Approaching Robert and Camille, seated, l. corner.) 
 Miss Woods, shall I engage you for the dance? 
 
 Cam. (Aside.) 0, how can I escape ? 
 
 Rob. Miss Woods is much obliged to you, I’ve no doubt ; but . she 
 is engaged. 
 
 Hec. (To Camille.) Man is a deceiver, woman’s heart is soft, 
 and flattery is the snare of souls. Trust not one of us ! 
 
 Rob. He will spite himself by inviting Matilda. 
 
 Cam. (Aside.) 0, this torture ! 
 
 Enos. (c. l., round ad libitum. ) By jingoes ! she refuses me! 
 Shall I have the pleasure? (To Phiebe, who continues talking.) I ’ia 
 in suthin’ of a hurry ! Wal, she’s engaged, too ! I ’ll try another. 
 Bound to have a dance, any Way ! (Goes around inviting ladies to 
 dance, who all refuse.) 0, you don’t say ! Wal, by jingoes ! 
 They ’re all engaged, I guess. Who else? 
 
 G. R 'v.) That Charlotte ! I declare, if she an’t here ! I 
 thought it was goin’ to be a respectable kind o’ party. See here, Mrs. 
 Greenwich ! Do you know anything about — 
 
34 ' NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. [ACT III 
 
 Rob. (l.) It is your only way ; you are safe. But, if you attempt 
 
 to escape —■ 
 
 Cam. 0, have mercy on me ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, don’t see but I shall haf to invite Tildy, arter all ! 
 ’Pear to be all engaged ; or else they don’t dance. • Wal, Tildy, shall 
 I have the pleasure — 
 
 Mat. (r. o.) 0, thank you ! I’m sorry ; but I’m engaged. ( Re¬ 
 tires up stage.) 
 
 Enos. Hey? — engaged? Now, that’s real mean, Tildy! I 
 would n’t do sich a thing ! I — I — I ’ll break off! 
 
 G. R. Then there’s that swindlin’ Crumlett ! I wonder who ’ll 
 lance with him? I wouldn’t, if you was to give me ail the men in 
 creation ! He’s so disagreeable ! 
 
 Enos. Only one chance left, I vow ! But I’m bound to have a 
 dance. {Approaches Mrs. Rigglesty.) Wal, you here? Heow de 
 dew ? Glad to see ye ! I was kind o’ ’fraid you would n’t come. 
 
 G R 0 ! how de do ! {Aside.) So disagreeable ! 
 
 Enor I’d like to talk — old friends so ; but I’m in suthin’ of a 
 hurry. Dance, don’t ye ? 
 
 G. R. 0 ! I’d no idee ! — 
 
 Enos. Come, hitch on ! I’m in suthin’ of a hurry. 
 
 G. R. {R ises.) He ’sreal kind o’ perlite, arter all ! 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation ! Bound to have a dance, any way. 
 Now I guess Tildy ’ll be jealous ! 
 
 {Exeunt Robert and Camille, l., conversing.) 
 Hec. I could strangle the scoundrel ! {Exit, l.) 
 
 {Music. A dance. Mrs. Rigglesty faints.) 
 
 G. R. 0,0,0! {Confusion. Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 &CENE I. — A Room in Mr. Dunbury’s House, c. door practical. 
 Hector discovered with book, r. Camille sewing by table, l A 
 knock at the door 
 
 Hector. Come in. 
 
 Enter Robert, c. r 
 Camille. Again ! 0, torture ! 
 
 Robert. Under the circumstances, I presume you are not glad to 
 SC-e me. 
 
 Hec. If you refer to me, I am not. I never am. 
 
 Rob. Thank you for your frankness ! I find it quite refreshing. 
 ( Leans upon Camille’s chair.) What a consummate wit our friend 
 Hector is ! {Bending down.) Camille ! I am here again. I cannot 
 keep away. 
 
 Cam Bid I not command you to go ? 
 
 Rob. Commtnd me {Smil ugly rests his hand upon her shoul¬ 
 der.) 
 
dCKNK I.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 35 
 
 Cam Your touch makes me shudder ! Is not that enough? 
 
 Rob. You speak rather plainly. 
 
 Cam. I have endured all I can. I will no more ! 
 
 R ob. You never appear so beautiful as when you are angry. I 
 have a length and breadth of love, deep in my nature, which nothing 
 can tire or exhaust. It has centred in you ! it holds you ! it will not 
 let you go ! 
 
 Cam . It is useless to remind me that I am in your power. (Arises.) 
 Do your worst! 
 
 Rob. I am not your enemy. I have spent my summer in pursuit 
 of you, not to do you an injury, but to show my love. 
 
 Cam. Love ! 0, monstrous ! 
 
 Rob. ’St ! Hector is watching like a cat ! I have something to 
 Bay to you. Something you would not have me say before him. 
 
 Cam. 0, the serpent ! ( Exeunt , l., conversing.) 
 
 Hec. (Dashes his book upon the floor. ) I ’ll strangle the villain ! 
 (Springs towards the door.) But she loves him! 0, fool ! fool! 
 fool ! (Returns, and flings himself upon a lounge.) 
 
 Enter Camille, l. 
 
 e 
 
 Cam. I have shaken the serpent off ! I have put my foot upon 
 him ! 0, heaven help me now ! Hector ! (Looks with dismay at 
 
 Hector, then at the book upon the floor.) What is the meaning of 
 this ? (Stoops to take up the book.) 
 
 Hec. (Leaps to his feet.) Leave it! (Seizes her wrist , and 
 glares upon her.) Are you an angel, or a fiend 1 
 
 Cam. I am a woman. 
 
 Hec. That name accounts for every inconsistency ! A woman ! 
 Go ! (Flings her from him. She turns in silence, and sinks down 
 by a chair, burying her face in her hands. He paces the room.) 0, 
 what a brute am I ! (Approaches, and takes her hand.) Charlotte ! 
 Charlotte! (She falls at his feet.) What have I done? Dearest 
 Charlotte, speak to me ! (Lifts her up.) 
 
 Cam. 0, why have I left you deceived ! — 
 
 Hec. 0, Charlotte ! if a desperate and all-conti’olling love could 
 merit anything, I merited your trust ! Be still; for, now my tongue 
 is loosed, and you must hear me ! In spite of reason and will, I am 
 drawn irrevocably to you. The light of the universe shines upon me 
 through your eyes. 
 
 Cam. Let me go ! I will fly from you ! You shall never see my 
 face again ! 
 
 Hec. Fly! — with whom? With Robert? 
 
 Cam - 0 ! 
 
 Hec. You know my feeling towards that man. 
 
 Cam. Spare me ! Spare me ! 
 
 Hec. I am not blind. Would that I were ! I have marked your 
 blushes, your pallor, your faltering speech, when he has come sud¬ 
 denly upon you, or given you meanir.g looks, or whispered in your 
 ear. Can you wonder at the fury stirred in my blood ? To-day the 
 tiger was roused, and .would have sprung at his throat ! 
 
 Cam. I am to blame ! I am to blame ! 
 
 Hec. 0, woman ! woman ! I loved you, and tried to hate you 
 £ believed you worthy, and I believed you not worthy. To my mind 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 fACT III. 
 
 JS6 
 
 you appeared false and erring ; but ever in my heart you were fair, 
 white-robed, pure, angelic. Charlotte, did I deserve your trust? 
 
 Cam. You did ! You did ! I will tell you everything to-day. I 
 know you will cast me from you. But it will be better so. 
 
 Hec. Charlotte, read that ! 
 
 Cam. (Reads.) What is this? 
 
 Hec. 0, she is innocent! That is not your history? 
 
 Cam My history? 
 
 Hec. 0, I have been made the sport even of a silly old woman ! 
 Cam, My history — it is darker — a hundred times darker than 
 this ! 0, do not question me ! Let me go, as I am ! I cannot, can¬ 
 not tell you ! ( Crosses, and exits, it.) 
 
 Hec. Charlotte ! Stay ! 0, whirlwinds seize me! I will solve 
 
 this mystery ! (Exit, R.) 
 
 Enter Robert, l. 
 
 Robert. This is their game! Then, by all the furies, I will be 
 revenged ! The mine is sunk, the train is laid, and a touch —I’ll 
 blow them to the devil ! 
 
 Enter Enos, c. d., whittling. * 
 
 Crumlett! 
 
 Enos, (r.) Wal, — how de dew ! Did n’t expect to see yeu 1 
 Rob. I’ve a job for you. 
 
 Enos. Sho ! Chance for a spec’lation ! 
 
 Rob. ( Writing on a book.) You will go to the tavern — 
 
 Enos. Wal, — I s’pose I can, — though I happen jest now to be is 
 euthin’ of a hurry — 
 
 Rob. You shall be paid. Take this to the landlord. (Folds ana 
 
 addresses the note.) 
 
 Enos. (Aside.) I was jest thinkin’ o’ going to the tavern, now — 
 Chance for a spec’lation ! It ’ll be a good deal out o’ my way ; ’sides 
 I’m in a desprit hurry — 
 
 Rob. It is to be called for. ( Gives the note. Going. ) 
 
 Enos. “X. Y. Z.” 0 ! I see ! the letter is for X. Y. Z., hey! 
 
 See here ! 
 
 Rob. Well ! 
 
 Enos. Is this all ? 
 
 Rob. Yes. Leave it with the landlord. Despatch ! 
 
 Enos. 0, yes ; but what am I to run my legs oft'for, that’s what 
 I’d kind o’ like to know? (Robert gives him money.) Thank ye ’ 
 See here ! 
 
 Rob. What now ? 
 
 Enos. l r e don’t happen to have a plug o’ tobacker in yer trousers? 
 (En it Robert, c. d.) Wal! curis what makes some folks allers in 
 sink a desprit hurry ! “ X. Y. Z.” He did n’t stick it with nothin’, 
 
 so there won’t be no harm openin’ on ’t, as I see. What can he mean 
 by “ X. Y Z.,” now? I’d jest like to know ! I declare, he has put 
 a wafer on’t — he must a’had one in his pocket! Here’s a fix! 
 How am I to know what *' X Y Z ” means? . Wal, I don’t see no 
 more harm openin’ a letter that’s stuck, than one that an’t stuck, if 
 it can be did ! By jingoes ! there ’tis ! I swanny, I didn’t mean 
 feo ! I’d no idee ! Seein’ it’s open, though, I may as well take a peep 
 
SCEJKfi I.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKW001/. 
 
 8? 
 
 {Reads.) All right. Wal, I ’m glad it’s all right. I ’a a-ft a red it 
 might be wrong. What else? There ’$ something in the wind. What’s 
 in the wind — I’d like to know ! Will see you at noon. I dare not 
 meet you openly : so find me at the same place , in the woods. The 
 utmost secrecy is necessary. Sho ! You don’t say ! 
 
 Enter Hector, r., looking haggard and excited . 
 
 Hector. Enos ! 
 
 Enos. By jingoes ! ( Thrusts the letter into his pocket.) I come 
 perty near gittin’ ketched at it ! 
 
 Hec. I have something for you to do. 
 
 Enos. I’m in a tearin’ hurry ! I got to go to the tavern. 
 
 Hec. That’s just where I want to go. 
 
 Enos. What a fool I was to tell him, now ! That is, I’m goin’ to 
 the tavern in a day or two, to see about, you know — 
 
 Hec. I must catch the stage. Say nothing to any one — 
 
 Enos. You an’t goin’ to leave town, be ye? 
 
 Hec. Put my horse before the buggy, and bring him to the door. 
 
 Enos. See here ! Wal, this is unexpected, now ! Bo you mean 
 -aright away ? 
 
 Hec. I mean at once. ( Exit, R.) 
 
 Enos. Wal, — chance for a spec’lation ! Kill tew birds with one 
 stun, and get a ride to the tavern into the barg’in. 
 
 Enter Phcebe, c. d., and down l. 
 
 Phabe. 0 ! Enos ! 
 
 Enos. Can’t stop ! I’m in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 Ph. Have you seen Robert ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, yes, — that is, I expect to see him. Anything I can 
 do ? 
 
 Ph. If you see him, Enos, tell him I am going distracted ! 
 
 Enos. Sho ! You don’t say. 
 
 Ph. How is Matilda, Enos ? 
 
 Enos. ’Tildy’s nicely. She’s gone to live with Bertha, you know 
 — I mean Mrs. Rukely. I was kind o’ surprised Bertha should marry 
 the minister, arter all — wan’t you? But there’s no’countin’for 
 tastes. 
 
 Ph. I would, if I’d been in her place ! Anything is better than 
 this suspense. 
 
 Enos. Wal, if I run acrost Bob, I ’ll tell him you ’re goin’ dis¬ 
 tracted. I’m in a desprit hurry ! {Exit, c.) 
 
 Ph. I don’t care ! it’s real mean in Bob Greenwich . I shall cry 
 my eyes out! 
 
 Enter Camille, r. 
 
 Camille. Gone ! Gone ! Nothing is left me now ! 0, he did not 
 
 ,ove me-— else he would not despise me now i 
 
 Ph. Why, Charlotte ! 
 
 Cam. Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. What’s the matter, Charlotte? I n( ver see you look so t 
 
 Cam. I — lam not well. Give me your arm, dear Phoebe ! I am 
 dizzy — blind ! 
 
 Ph. 0 dear 1 0 dear ! 
 
 4 
 
88 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOP. [ACT 113. 
 
 Cam . Don’t be alarmed. There — I am better now. 0, good 
 Phoebe ! You are the only friend I have ! ( Embraces her.) 
 
 Ph. (Sobbing.) W — w — - what can I do ? 
 
 Cam. Dry your tears, and listen to me. 
 
 Ph. I — 1 — I can’t! I’ve been broken-hearted myself, Robert 
 Greenwich has used me real mean ' 
 
 Cam. Door Phoebe ! 
 
 Ph. He said he would see me here this morning. 0 ! Who 
 there? ( Runs to the window.) It’s him : 
 
 Cam. Robert! 
 
 Ph. My heart almost hopped out of my mouth ! Say ! how does 
 my hair look? Would you care, if he thought I was handsomer than 
 you? I’m all of a flutter ! His moustache is perfectly splendid, any 
 way ! 
 
 Enter Robert, c. d. 
 
 Robert. Ah ! two birds together ! — a dove and a blue-jay ! 
 
 Cam. And a snake creeping in ! 
 
 Rob. Phoebe, I w T ant you to try your wings. I left a pair of gloves 
 at your house; do, please, fly home and get them. 
 
 Ph. I have n’t seen any. 
 
 Rob. Of course you have n’t. They ’re under the clock 
 
 Ph. Will you wait for me here? 
 
 Rob. If you don’t find them under the clock, look under the bureau. 
 If they are not there, hunt for ’em in the barn. ( Exit Phcebe, c. p.) 
 The goose ! See her run ! I have not a moment to lose. The simple¬ 
 ton will be back presently, unless she falls and breaks her neck, as I 
 devoutly pray she may ! 
 
 Cam. Sir, if you have come again to torture me, you lose your 
 labor. I no longer fear nor dread you. 
 
 Rob. By heavens ! you are a noble girl! When I saw Hector go, 
 my hope returned. You have lost him. Camille ! once more I ofler 
 you my love—my life ! 
 
 Cam. Go ! ( Points to the door.) 
 
 Rob. Never ! If his love had been strong as mine, he could not 
 have left you. At any sacrifice, you must be mine! Camille, you 
 shall be my wife ! 
 
 Cam. Your wife ! Robert Greenwich, my entire nature shrinks at 
 the thought of joining myself to one I do not love. By no law, human 
 or divine, can I ever, ever be yours ! (Going.) 
 
 Rob. Stop 1 by heavens ! 
 
 Cam. Take off your hand ! 
 
 Rob. Consider — I have it in my power, I have had it in my heart, 
 to deliver you up to a fate worse than death. I relent. I offer you 
 my hand. Heaven judge between you and me, if you sj am me now 1 
 
 Cam I spurn you, now and forever ! (Exit, b.) 
 
 Enter Phoebe, c. d. 
 
 Rob. Death and destruction ! 
 
 Phcebe Why, what is the matter with Charlotte? 
 
 Rob. We have had a terrible quarrel. 
 
 Ph. About what? 
 
 Rob. About you, darling. She is jealous. 
 
•tCKNE II.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 89 
 
 Ph. Jealous ? 
 
 Rob. Horribly jealous ! Of you, Phoebe. You must watoh her. 
 
 Ph. Watch her ? 
 
 Rob. Yes ; follow her everywhere. Do not leave her a moment out 
 of your sight. I cannot explain now'—but our happiness depends 
 upon it. (Kisses her, and aside.) Now, then, for vengeance ! 
 
 (Exit, c.) 
 
 Ph. I never saw anything so strange in all my life ! Robert ! A 
 forgot to tell him there wan’t any gloves 1 He’s got a splendid 
 moustache, any way (Exit, c., and ojf n.) 
 
 SCENE II.- i Chamber. E 'er C.amille, l. Piicebe follows softly, 
 
 watching and listening. 
 
 Camille. 0, my soul is sick ! I did not'think it would cost me so 
 much to lose him. He was my only hope — now he is gone ! I will 
 banish him from my mind ! Whom can I trust, to aid me to escape? 
 Phoebe — she is changed ; she is playing a part ; she follows and 
 watches me ! 0 ! I have one friend still! Mr. Jack wood !-Phoebe ' 
 
 Phoebe. I — I am looking for a pencil I dropped. 
 
 Cam. Phoebe, why do you deceive me ? 
 
 Ph. True as I live — it was a black pencil — 
 
 Cam. Dear child, listen ! Robert has set you to play the spy over 
 me. I forgive you, because you are a foolish girl. You were once 
 good to me, and so I shall remember you kindly when I am gone. 
 
 Ph. Why, you an’t a-going ? 
 
 Cam. Yes, Phoebe. I shall never see you again ! 
 
 Ph. 0, you shan’t go ! I didn’t mean to-get Robert away from 
 you, and make you jealous ! 
 
 Cam. Hush, foolish child ! 
 
 Ph. I never knew anybody half so good as you be ! And I won’t 
 ever see you again ! 
 
 Cam. There, don’t cry about it, Phoebe. I am going to bid your 
 father and mother good-by. Come, dear Phoebe ! (Exeunt, n.) 
 
 SCENE III. — Mr. Jackwood’s Kitchen. Mr. Jackwood tipped back 
 hi his chair, r., smoking. Mrs. Rigglesty, l., knitting. Abime- 
 leoii, c., putting a wagon together. Mrs. Jackwood kneading 
 b^ead. 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. How I do hate to see men settin’ round 
 the house all the arternoon ! It’s so shif’less !•—Sonny ! 
 
 Abimelech. (Furiously .) What ! 
 
 G. R. What ! You han’t had me to larn ye mannei’s, or ys 
 would n’t speak so ! What! Come here, an’ you ’ll see what ! 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Go to your gran’mother, Bim’lech 
 Abim. It ’s always the way —jest as I git to work on my wagon — 
 blast it all ! (Kicks it.) 
 
 G. R. Come, sonny ; don’t ye want to hold this yarn for me fea 
 rcind ? That’s a good boy ! 
 
 Abim. I knoweci there’d be suthin’ for me to do ! 
 
10 NEIGHBOH JACK WOOD. [ACT lit 
 
 G. B. Wal, y;u be an abased child, I must sav for’t ! Yoa 
 wan’t born to work, was ye? 
 
 Abim. No, by darn, I wan’t ! and I an’t goin to work every min¬ 
 ute of the time, if I haf to run away ! 
 
 Air. J. Bim’lech ! Be a good boy, now, or 1 shall take ye in hand. 
 
 Abim. Wind fast, any way ! 
 
 G. R. You need n’t be so uppish about it! ’T won’t hurt ye to 
 hold yarn a little while. 
 
 Abim. Father takes a noonin’, and why can’t I ? 
 
 G. R. A noonin’ ! an’ it’s now a’most night ! Han’t yer father 
 nothin’ in the world for ye to do ? 
 
 Abim. I should think so ! There an’t a boy nowheres round here 
 has to tug it so hard as I do ! I’m gittin’ round-shouldered a’ready. 
 
 G. R. What ’ll you be when you ’ve done as much work as I have? 
 There, you’ve held the yarn, and’t han’t quite killed ye, arter all the 
 fuss. Don’t go to putterin’ with that wagin, now ! How I do detest 
 shif’Jessness ! Go ’n’ split some wood. 
 
 Abim. The axe is out in the lot, an’ I an’t goin’ to split wood, for 
 nobody ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! 
 
 Abim. What ! 
 
 Mr. J. You go down in the meader, and fix the boards on that 
 stack. It’s goin’ to rain. Do you hear ? 
 
 Abim. It’s jest the way ! Con -demn it all ! ( Kicks the wagon to 
 
 pieces.) There, I’ve broke it! and I’m glad on’t. I can’t have a 
 minute to myself ! ( Exit , d. it.) 
 
 G. R. That’s the ugliest young one ever I see ! 
 
 Mr. J. I don’t much wonder. You pester his life out of him. 
 Why could n’t ye let him take comfort fixin’ his wagon? I don’t 
 believe in drivin’ a boy all the time. 
 
 G. R. No ; you believe in bringin’ ’em up to be shif’less, like their 
 father ! 0, wal ! I han’t a right to say anything, I s’pose. I’m aD 
 
 ol’ woman— I’ve slaved my life out, doin’ for my childern, an’ that’s 
 all I ’m good for ! ( Handkerchief .) 
 
 Mr. J. There comes the Good Samaritan! Don’t, now, go to 
 makin’ yourself unhappy ! 
 
 Enter Camille and PHoeBE, d. in flat. 
 
 See, here’s our Charlotte ! 
 
 Jamille. Good Mr. Jackwood ! 
 
 Mr. J. Speak to her ; it ’ll please her. 
 
 Cam. How do you do, Mrs. Rigglesty? 
 
 G. R. 0, ’t an’t much consequence about me ; only keep that door 
 shot ! I can’t have the wind blowin’ right on to my shoulder an* 
 neck. ( Handkerchief.) 
 
 Airs. Jackwood. (n. c., to Ph<ebe, glancing at Camille.) Why, 
 htf v you talk ! 
 
 Cam. 0, Mr. Jackwood ! I have come to you for help ! 
 
 Air. J. You couldn’t done better, if there’s anything in BimTech 
 Jackwood’s way 
 
 Enter Enos, d. f. 
 
 G, R. The hussy ! She must have attention paid her ! Now 
 thsre’s that swindlin’ Crumlett ! ( Exit , weeping , a.) 
 
I 
 
 KJENE III.] NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 41 
 
 Enos. Wal, Neigh bor Jackwood ! 
 
 Mr. J. Good-artenioon, Enos. Set down. 
 
 Enos. Wal, — do’no’,— I’m in suthin’ of a hurry. Thought 
 you’d like to hear the news, so I dropped in 
 
 Mr. J. Set a cheer, Phoebe. 
 
 Enos. Thank ye ; I’m in suthin’ of a hurry That ’ere E; b Green¬ 
 wich is a case, now, an’t he? 
 
 Pli. Robert ! 
 
 Enos. He’s in for a spec’lation — with his X. Y. Z. ! 
 
 Mr. J. His X. Y. Z. ? — what’s that ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, ye see, he gives me a letter, without no name to it, on’y 
 X. Y Z., to be left with the tavern-keeper. Thinks says I to myself, 
 now, what’s that? X. Y. Z., thinks says I. Of course, bein’ I an’t 
 nobody’s fool, I was nat’rally ruther anxious to know what it was ah 
 about. So, thinks says I, I ’ll jest hang round the tavern, and mebby 
 thinks says I, there ’ll be a chance for a spec’lation. 
 
 Mr. J. Cut your story short, Enos. 
 
 Enos. Wal, of course ; I ’m in suthin’ of a hurry, myself. You 
 see, I kind o’ hung round, tryin’ to git up a dicker with somebody, 
 till bime-by there comes up a chap that took the allfiredest swig o’ 
 whiskey’t ever I see poured into a feller’s insides. Then he whispers 
 suthin’ to the landlord, and I heerd the landlord say, “ 0, sartin ! ” 
 same time he give him a letter. Hello ! thinks says I, there’s my 
 X. Y. Z. Chance for a spec’lation ! Nobody ’peared to know him, so 
 I steps up, and says I, “ You seem to be a stranger in these parts,” 
 says I. He did n’t take no notice, so says I, “ You don’t know of any¬ 
 body ’t wants to swap for a nice four-year-ol’ mare, do ye? ” says I. 
 “ If you ’re travellin’ in your own conveyance,” says I, “ I’ve got jest 
 the kind o’ beast, now, you want.” 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, wal, Enos ! 
 
 Cam. {Alarmed.) 0, Mr. Jackwood ! ( Detains him.) 
 
 Enos. Why, if you don’t want to hear it — of course. I’m in a 
 despiit hurry, myself. 
 
 Mr. J. Go on. 
 
 Enos. The nub on’t’s jest this. I could n’t git nothin’ out o’ Mr. 
 X. Y. Z., and I see he kind o’ itched to git me out o’ the way. So, 
 gays I, “ If ye an’t up to a dicker,” says I, “ I shall haf to leave ye. 
 I’m in suthin’ of a hurry,” says I. Wal, sir, next minute he was 
 makin’ tracks down the road, and I arter him. 
 
 Mr J. Ye did n’t foller him, did ye ? 
 
 Enos. What’s the odds, long as he did n’t see me? Wal, he kind 
 o’ l’itered round, lookin’ to see if anybody see him, till bime-by he 
 starts and makes a bee-line acrost Jones’s pastur’. I took a short cut 
 through the'holler, and headed him olf, jest as he was cornin’ into the 
 woods. 
 
 Mr. J. Come, come, Enos ! Charlotte’s all in a fidget — you ’re so 
 slow ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, sir* I got behind the wall, and there who should I see 
 come tearin’ through the saplin’s, but your mustashy feller, there, Rob 
 Greenwich 
 
 Ph. Robert! 
 
 Enos. I rec’lected what ye told me, Pheeb, ’bout your goin’ dis 
 tracted ; buf I kind o’ thought I would n’t mention it then. ’Peared 
 
 4* 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [act six 
 
 to me, my better way’d be, to keep my ears open, an’ my mouth ehet 
 Could n’t hear much, though ; but I gethered ’nough to see what kind 
 of a spec’lation they ’re up tew. That ’ere X. Y. Z. chap is some kind 
 of an officer, an’ Bob Greenwich is puttin’ him on the track of some¬ 
 body. I thought, from what was said, ’t was-Hello ! what’s come 
 
 over her ? 
 
 Mr. J. Never mind his nonsense, Charlotte. — Don’t ye see, ye ’re 
 fright’nin’ her ? {Knocking.) See who’s to the door, Phoebe. 
 
 Cam. 0, Mr. Jack wood ! 
 
 Enter Dickson, d. f., with a horse-whip. 
 
 Enos. (l. c.) By jingoes ! if there an’t the X Y. Z. chap ! 
 
 Dickson. This way, marshal ! All right ! 
 
 Enter Oliver Dole, d. f. 
 
 Mr. J. What on ’arth ! 
 
 Cam. Save me ! save me ! 
 
 Dick. Don’t let that gal escape ! 
 
 Mr. J. Who be you, bustin’ into a house this way ? Stan’ back ! 
 
 Dick, (r.) Come on, marshal ! That’s the gal ! 
 
 Oliver Dole. Mr. Jackwood, you are resisting the execution of the 
 law. 
 
 Mr. J. {Flings his arm about Camille, l.) If there’s any harm 
 cornin’ to this gal, it must come to me fust! My name’s Bim’lech 
 Jackwood ! 
 
 O. D. You know me, Mr. Jackwood ! {Crosses to him.) 
 
 Mr. J. I thought I knowed ye ; and I thought you wan’t the man 
 to be huntin’ a poor, friendless gal, Oliver Dole ! 
 
 Dick. Cuss his nonsense ! 
 
 O. D. {Showing his warrant.) Here is my authority. I arrest 
 that girl — 
 
 Mr. J. Stand off, there, both on ye ! Tech your hand to her, if 
 you dare ! Now, Oliver Dole, I ’ll hear what ye got to say. 
 
 O. D. That girl is — 
 
 Mr. J. Is what ? 
 
 O. D. A fugitive ! 
 
 Dick. A slave ! 
 
 Mrs. J. and Ph. A slave ! {Cross behind to l. h.) 
 
 Mr. J. A slave ! Charlotte ! 
 
 Dick. Do you understand that ? A slave ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, by jingoes ! here’s a perty how-de-du . 
 
 Mr. J. {Holding off Dickson and Dole.) Wait a bit ! Put up 
 that pistol ! {To Dickson.) Don’t think I’m goin’ to be scart. — 
 Enos ! 
 
 Enos. {Pretending to go.) Did you speak? I’m in suthin’ of a 
 hurry. 
 
 O. D. I did not look for this resistance. The law must be 
 obeyed. 
 
 Mr. J. There’s one law above all laws, and that law I obey ! 
 
 O. D. Dickson, call in our force ! 
 
 Mr. J. Ha! that’s your game! {Rushes with Camille to thi 
 door. As Dole alto pts to detain him , knocks him down.) 
 
 Dick. {At the w low , beckoning.) Hurra, boys! 
 
SCENE IV._ 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 48 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation ! ( Tips Dicksi in out of fits win*■ 
 
 dow.) 
 
 Mr. J. Stan’ by, Enos ! Break their heads ! We ’ll save her ! 
 Old Vermont forever ! ( Hurries Camille, with Piicebe and Mbs. J., 
 
 rut at one door , while Dickson and his posse rush in at the other.) 
 
 Enos. I ’ve fixed yer X. Y. Z. ! ( Steps in Dole’s way , as he is 
 
 ‘ushing after Mr. J.) Hello ! that you ? 
 
 Dick. Whar’s that gal? 
 
 O. D. This way ! 
 
 Enos. Arter me is manners ! I am in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 ( Exit , after Mr. J. ; shuts the door behind him.) 
 
 O D. Force the door ! 
 
 Dick. Bust it open ! smash through ! 
 
 ( Cries , confusion ; some force the door; others leap from the win¬ 
 dow. Scene closes.) 
 
 SCENE IV. — The Lane. Shouts heard. 
 
 Enter Mr Jackwood, r. Conducts a figure, covered in a large 
 ■ mantle. Brandishes a sickle. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. There, there ! be still, now ! — Come on ! I defy 
 ye ! ( Shouts without. ) 
 
 Enos. ( Entering, r.) Come on ! we defy ye ! ( Spits on his hands , 
 and rolls up his sleeves.) 
 
 Mr. J. Ye pack o’bloody wolves! — Keep still! you shan’t be 
 hurt! ( Shouts without.) 
 
 Enos. Ye pack o’ bloody wolves ! 
 
 Mr. J. Ye human thieves ! 
 
 Enos. Ye human thieves ! Come on ! 
 
 Mr. J. Keep ’em off as long as you can, Enos ! — There, there ' 
 they shan’t hurt ye ! 
 
 Enter Dickson, Dole, and posse, r. 
 
 Dickson. Hurra ! we’ve got her 1 
 
 Oliver Dole. Surround ’em ! 
 
 Dick. Shoot ’em ! 
 
 O. D. Don’t fire ! She’s safe ! 
 
 Mir. J. Hands off ! 
 
 Enos. Jeruslia mighty ! Don’t like the looks o’ them revolvin’ 
 irons ! ( Retreats behind. Mr. J.) 
 
 Mr. J. Shoot, if ye want to ! Guess ye ’ll find what the Green 
 Mountain boys are made of! 
 
 Enos. Guess ye ’ll find what the Green Mountain boys - Hign ! 
 look out there ! don’t ! I’m in suthin’ of a hurry ! (Exit, l ) 
 
 D ! c/c Stop their gab ! 
 
 O. D. Surrender ! it ’ll save bloodshed ! Stand back ! 
 
 ( To his posse .) 
 
 Mr. J. Oliver Dole, you live amongst us, here ; you oughter know 
 somethin’. This t’other chap’pears to be a stranger, and 1 e don’t. 
 
 Dick. Cuss his jaw ! 
 
 Mr. J. Carry your impudence too fur, and ye ’ll find the Yanke* 
 farmer has got pluck into him ! 
 
 Dirk. You ’ll git ytr pay for this ! 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [act in. 
 
 44 
 
 Mr. J. I don't believe any man ever yet done a good action or a bad 
 action, that he didn’t get his pay. So you look out, or I ’ll send in 
 my bill ! ( Brandishes his sickle.) 
 
 Dick. By Jove, marshal, I can’t stan’ this fool’n’ ! 
 
 O. D. The girl is secure ; there’s no use of violence. — Mr. Jack 
 wood, it is a painful duty I have to perform ; but you know—the 
 law ! . i 
 
 Mr. J. The law I’ve been larnt to reverence tells me to lift up the 
 poor and down-trodden, and stan’ by the widder an’ the fatherless. 
 
 O. D. You will have to yield. 
 
 Mr. J. Crumlett has left me, has he ? And how many are ye 
 aginst one ? Had to drum the tavern loafers into yer sarvice, did n’t 
 ye, Oliver ! A perty set, to be huntin’ a poor, defenceless gal ! 
 
 Dick. Grab holt here ! 
 
 Mr. J. Don’t be so f’erce ! You an’t goin’ to take this poor gal 
 away from me now, I know ! Ye an’t so cruel as that ! 
 
 O. D. Advance — in order ! 
 
 Mr. J. She is human, like one o’ yer own wives or childern. I 
 love her like my own darter. Only look upon her face ! 
 
 O. D. Seize them ! 
 
 {As the men rush forward , Mr. J. lifts the mantle, and discovers 
 Piicebe.) 
 
 Dick. The devil ! 
 
 O. D. Phoebe ! 
 
 All. Phoebe Jackwood ! 
 
 Dick. Cuss these Yankee farmers ! Scatter, in every direction ’ 
 Start ! run ! What a pack of cussed fools ! 
 
 {Exeunt, r., all but Mr. J. and Piicebe.) 
 
 Mr. J. The scoundrels ! They ’ll larn what Yankee farmers are 
 made of ! Hurra for old Vermont ! ( Exeunt , l., 
 
 SCENE V. — The Intervale. A haystack , c., near the creek. A 
 
 sheep-shed built against it. Wait across front. Abimelech ar- 
 
 ranging boards on the stack. A storm. 
 
 Abimelech. There, I guess that ’ll keep the rain off. Darn the ole 
 stack, I say ! I shall git as wet as a drownded rat ! Ou ! git off my 
 toe ! {Kicks a board.) Here, Rove ! here, Rove ! Where’s that 
 dog, I’d like to know ? ( Whistles.) 
 
 Enter Camille, l. h. 
 
 Camille. Which way shall I go ? I cannot cross the creek ! I hear 
 them shout !■ {Shouts in the distance.) 
 
 Abim. (r.) Hello ! 
 
 Cam. (l. ) 0, Abimelech ! 
 
 Abim. That you ! I swanny ! 
 
 Cam. Some men are hunting for me I would rather die than 
 nave them find me ! 
 
 Abim. Who be they? I ’ll set Rove on to ’em ! {Shouts.) 
 
 Cam They are coming ! I don’t know where to go ! 
 
 Abim. By gracious ! Wait a minute, till I come down ! 
 
 {Descends from the stackC 
 
SCENE V.J 
 
 NEIGHBOR d ACKWOOD. 
 
 45 
 
 Cam. 0, save me from this horror ! I do not fear to die ! Bui they 
 pollute body and soul ! 0, Father of Love, give me freedom or 
 
 death ! 
 
 Abim. See here ! If you’d like to hide — (Shouts.) 
 
 Cam. O ! show me where ! 
 
 Abim. I guess I know a place ; though I don’t want father to find 
 Dut; for he told me not to dig holes in the stack. (Pulls away the 
 lay, and opens a cavity in the side of the stack.) It’s real slick an’ 
 warm in there. (Shouts.) 
 
 Cam. (Entering.) 0, cover me quick ! 
 
 Abim. Shall I leave a breathin’-place? (Covering her. Dog 
 barks.) - Hello ! what’s Rove barkin’ at? (Runs to the side scene, 
 and back.) Say ! there’s a man cornin’ with a great big hoss-whip [ 
 
 Cam. Don’t let him find me here ! 
 
 Abim. Keep still ! I ’ll be fixin’ the boards on the stack. (Climbs 
 the stack , and begins to tvhislle.) 
 
 Dickson, (l., without.) Git out i (Dog barks.) Git out ! ( Whip 
 cracks.) 
 
 Abim. He won’t bite ye. Here, Rove ! 
 
 Enter Dickson, l. h. 
 
 Dick. Git out ! (Makes a cut behind him.) Say, boy ! 
 
 Abim. I an’t a boy ! I’m a young man ! 
 
 Dick. Have ye seen anybody pass this way, within half an hour ? 
 
 Abim. Pass which way ? 
 
 Dick. Any way ; along by the crick. 
 
 Abim. What crick ? 
 
 Dick. Answer my question ! 
 
 Abim. I han’t ben here half an hour, I should n’t think. 
 
 Dick. ( Cracks his whip.) Look a-here ! None o’ yer trash ! 
 
 Abim. What’s trash, I’d like to know ! • 
 
 Dick. [ ’ll show ye ! I cut a boy’s trousers-legs right off with this 
 yer blaclr snake, t’ other day. 
 
 fibim. That an’t none o’ my business. 
 
 Dick. Which way did that gal go ? 
 
 Abim. What gal ? 
 
 Dick. That gal that come along about twenty minutes ago. 
 
 flbim. If there was one, I should think I’d seen her. 
 
 Dick. That won’t do ! (C racks his whip at Abimelecii.) 
 
 Abim (Jumping back.) By darn ! 
 
 Dick. You ’ll look paler ’n that when I draw about a quart o’ 
 blood ou: of ye ! 
 
 Abim. You darsn’t ! 
 
 Dick. I ’ll give ye jest about a minute an’ a half ; then if ye don’t 
 walk straight up to the scratch, an’ spit out what ye know, you ’ll 
 have yer clo's cut right off’m yer back, an’ yer hide with ’em ! I ’ll 
 &ee what ye got hid round the stack, hei’e ! 
 
 Abim (Sliding down the side, near Camille.) Say ! 
 
 Cam. 0, Abimelech ! 
 
 Alim. Keep still ! 
 
 Pick. What’s that? 
 
 Abim. (Arranges the boards.) If ye ’ll help me with these boards. 
 1 T. go up to the house with ye, and see if sue’s there. 
 
id 
 
 NEIGHBOR JALKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT IU 
 
 Dick Wliat ’s your name? 
 
 Abim. Bim. 
 
 Dick. Your whole name ? 
 
 Abim. Bim’lech. 
 
 Dick. What’s your father’s name ? 
 
 Abim. His name’s Bim’lech, too. 
 
 Dick. Bim’lech what ? 
 
 Abim. Jaekwood, of course. 
 
 Dick. You ’re one o' that tribe, be ye ? 
 
 Abim. Yes, I guess not! What tribe? 
 
 Dick. Time’s up ! Now, what ye got to say ? 
 
 Abim. Ou ! you better not hit me with that! 
 
 Dick. Cuss that boy ! See here ! I ’ll give ye half a dollar. 
 Abim. I guess so ! You want me to come down and git it : th«.a 
 jou ’ll ketch me, and gi’ me a lickin’ ! 
 
 Dick. I ’ll larn ye to bother a feller this way ! (Strikes.) 
 
 Abim. Come! better take care ! (Dodges.) 
 
 Dick. If I wan’t in a hurry, I’d make furrers in your hide ! I ’ll 
 git holt of ye, some time. (Exit, r. h.) 
 
 Abim. (Descending the stack.) See here ! better try ’t now 
 Guess you better come back, hadn’t ye? Barn his ol’ whip, I say , 
 Cam. Is he gone? 
 
 Abim. Yes, confound his picter ! Shall I go and tell father? 
 
 Cam. If you will. But be careful —let no one else — 
 
 Abim. I ’ll keep it from Pheeb, any way ! Gracious, how it rains ! 
 Say ! I’m goin’, now ! 
 
 Cam. Yes ; go, go ! 
 
 Abim. Here, Hove ! here, Rove 1 (Exit, calling , l.) 
 
 SCENE VI.— The Lane. JYight. Storm continues. Enter Dice- 
 
 son, R. 
 
 Dickson. Cuss these Yankee farmers ! 
 
 Enos (l., without, singing.) ’Tis my delight in a shiny night, 
 in the season of the year. 
 
 Enos enters, under a dilapidated umbrella. 
 
 The deuce ! Here’s the X. Y. Z. chap ! 
 
 Dick. Look a-liere ! Which way ye go’n’ ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, I thought I should go this way. Any objection ? 
 
 Dick. Don’t ye want to earn about twenty-five or thirty dollars, 
 to-night ? 
 
 Enos. Chance for a spec’lation ! Wal, I wouldn’t mind ; though 
 I’m in suthin’ of a hurry — 
 
 Dick You know which way that gal went ? 
 
 E nos. 0 ! ye could n’t find her, could ye ? — Better step under my 
 umbrel — hey ? 
 
 Dick. I’m go’n ’ to find her ! I never had one of ’em git away 
 from me, yit ! 
 
 Enos. Kind of a bad night to be lookin’ arter her, —hey ? 
 
 Dick. Hang it all ! V wculi n’t mind that, if I could git on to th« 
 right track once 
 
eOENE Y1I.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 47 
 
 Enos. Shi . 
 
 Dick. Ye would n't like to earn thirty dollars now, would ye? 
 
 Enos. (Aside.) Thirty dollars! If I only did know — what a 
 chance for a spec’lation ! Though, of course, I would n’t. — Better step 
 under my umbrel ! 
 
 Dick. No time to lose. Yes or no? 
 
 Enos. Wal, the last I see of her, she went one way, an’ me an’ 
 Jackwood took Pheeb an’ went t’ other. — Say, better step under my 
 *mbrel — hey ? 
 
 Dick. Cuss your umbrel ! 
 
 Enos. Sho ! ye don’t say ! Wal, the last I see of her, I did n’t see 
 her at all ! She was gone ’fore I knowed it. Says Jackwood, says 
 he, Enos, says he — 
 
 Dick. Cuss these Yankee farmers ! (Exit, l. h.) 
 
 Enos. Hello! see here! Better step under my umbrel ! — Jingoes, 
 now ! if I only had knowed which way she went — though, of course, 
 I would n’t told. Thirty dollars ! I wonder if he would a’ gin thirty 
 dollars, now ! ’S no use ! If’t did n’t rain so, I’d go and see Tildy 
 to-night. Kind o’ feel as though I’d like to have a good time. (Sings.) 
 ’ T is my delight in a shiny night, in the season of the year. 
 
 (Exit % E. H.) 
 
 SCENE VII. — Mr. Jackwood’s Kitchen. Enter Dickson, r. h. 1 
 e., with a light. Rain, thunder, and lightning. 
 
 Dickson. They can’t fool me ! That gal’s hid away somewheres 
 in this house, and I’m cust if I don’t find her. The idee of a gal’s 
 givin’ a feller the slip that way ! (Exit, l. h. 2 e.) 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood ; presently, Mrs. Jackwood, r. 2 e. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. I thought I heard a noise. That plaguy kidnab- 
 ber ! I would n’t begrudge a night’s lodgin’ to the wust enemy I got ; 
 but I could a’ turned him out doors into the storm, wityi a good stom¬ 
 ach, if there’d been any way o’ gittin’ red of him ! 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. How narvous you be, father ! 
 
 Mr. J. I’m consanied about Charlotte. 
 
 Mrs. J. She’ll be safe there in the stack. Nobody ’ll ever think 
 of looking for her there. 
 
 Mr. J. Yes ; but, if’t keeps on rainin’, there ’ll be a foot of water 
 on the interval, ’fore mornin’ ! It comes down like forty-Teven Dutch 
 pedlers ! I guess I better go and try to git her off. I’m afraid we ’re 
 goin’ to have a flood. (Puts on his hat, buttons his coat, and takes 
 dou a lantern.) If I can git out o’ the house without lettin’ that 
 plaguy kidnabber know. (Going.) 
 
 Mrs. J Hark ! what’s that ? 
 
 Enter Dickson, l. h. 
 
 Mr. J. I shall break his head for him ’fore we *re done ! 
 
 Dicksoi. You’re up late, farmer. 
 
 Mr. J. Do ye want anything p’tic’lar? 
 
 Dick. I came down to see if l could get a drink. 
 
48 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [aci m. 
 
 Mr. J. Bring him a tumbler, mother 
 
 Dick. It’s a rainy night. 
 
 Mr. J. Terrible ! 
 
 Dick. I hope that gal an’t out nowheres. 
 
 Mr. J. I hope no human critter alive is obleeged to be out sica a 
 tejus night as this. 
 
 Dick. Look a-here ! I’m bent on findin’ that gal, an’ ’t an’t no 
 us 3 , her try in’ to get away. Now, you know all about her ! 
 
 Mr. J. I wish I did ! 
 
 Dick. Be reason’ble, and own up. Your rescuin’ her from the 
 fc?.ndj of the officers will wind you up for this world. 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, then I ’ll take my chance in the world to come ! 
 
 Dick. Tell ye what, though ; tell me where she is, and I ’ll see’t’s 
 made all right, an’ you shan’t suffer. Besides, look a-here ! There’s 
 fifty dollars for ye, if ye’d like to ’arn it ! You don’t find fifty dol¬ 
 lars in the dirt every day, I reck’n. 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, I don’t ; and I do’no’ ’bout pickin it out o’ jest that 
 kind o’ dirt, even if I should. 
 
 Dick. I ’ll make it — le’ me see — sixty, seventy, seventy-five 
 Now, there’s a chance. Come, le’s set down and talk it over. 
 
 Mr. J. You ’ll have to wait a little while, fust. 
 
 Dick. You go’n’ out in the rain ? 
 
 Mr. J. Yes, I got to go an’ look to my dumb beasts. 
 
 Dick. If that’s all, I ’ll go along, an’ we ’ll be talk’n’. 
 
 {A wild , roaring noise , in ihe distance.') 
 
 Mr. J. See here ! Now, you jest ’tend to your business the rest o i 
 the night, or you ’ll get a broken pate ! ( JYoise increases.) 
 
 Mrs. J. Father, what’s that noise ? 
 
 Mr. J. Heavens an’ ’arth ! It’s a flood ! Bim’lech ! Bim’lech 
 
 Dick. A flood ! What’s that? ' 
 
 Mr. J. The mill-dam has broke away ! 
 
 Enter Abimelecii, l. h. 1 e., putting on his jacket. 
 
 In ten minutes the valley will be full of water ! To the boat, Bim’lecJ*! 
 
 Abimelech. -The ol’ thing ’ll leak like a sive ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bring a dipper to bail with ! ( They rush off , d. f.) 
 
 Mrs. J. The door-yard ’s all afloat ! jX 
 
 Eider Phcebe and Mrs. Bigglesty, r. h. 2 e. 
 
 Granamother Rigglesty. What in creation ! My sakes ! 
 
 6CENE VIII. — Near the Creek. Storm continues. Enter , e. h. 
 Mr. Jackwood, with a pair of oars. Abimelech, with the lantern 
 and a dipper. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Give me the lantern. Put the oars into the boat 
 Abimelech. The ol’ thing’s half full of water. 
 
 Mr. J. Be bailin’ till I come. 
 
 Enter Dickson, r. h. 
 
 Abim. If we ’re goin’ for Charlotte, don’t let him. 
 
 Mr. J. I ’ll ’tend u him. (io D/ckson.) Stan’ back » 
 
8CEJN E IX.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 Dickson. You ’re goin’ in the boat, I reck’n. 
 
 Abim. Break his darned ol’cocoanut, — I would ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech I ( Exit Abimelech, l.) 
 
 Dick. If it’s for that gal, say the word, and I’m the man to help ! 
 
 Mr. J. You ’ve done enough for her, and for us, too 
 
 Dick. Look a-here. Farmer Jackwood ! 
 
 Mr. J. We ’re goin’ to pick up our drowndin’ sheep. There won’t 
 be room in the boat. 
 
 Dick. I reck’n I ’ll help as much as I ’ll hender. I’m a powerful 
 hand at the oars. So, no fool’n’ ! 
 
 Mr. J. Come, at yer peril! The water’s deep ! 
 
 Dick. I reck’n I an’t a-feared to go where you can. We may as 
 well keep together, I reck’n. 
 
 Mr. J. (Aside.) Charlotte must be saved ! Come, if ye will. If 
 he’s in the way, — by all the powers ! I ’ll duck him ! (Exit, l. 
 
 Dick. Jest my cussed luck, if that gal’s drownded ! (Exit, l.) 
 
 SCENE IX. — The Stack. An inundation. Camille climbing upon 
 
 the shed. Tempest, rain. Sec. 
 
 Camille. Help ! help ! There is no one to hear ! Where am I ? 
 0 , wind, and rain, and flood ! 0, darkness ! I fear you less than I 
 
 fear my fellow-men ! Death is my friend ! But, to be drowned — 0, 
 terrible ! I will climb the stack ! (Shouts in the distance.) I hear 
 cries ! 0, heaven ! I see a light! It is coming ! it is coming ! (A 
 
 shout.) It is Mr. Jackwood’s voice ! (The shed falls ; she is swept 
 away by the flood, r.) 0 , help ! help ! help ! 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. (l. h. u. e., without.) Hold yer light, Bim’lech ! 
 
 The boat appears, Mr. Jackwood steering, Dickson rowing, Abime¬ 
 lech holding the lantern on the bow. 
 
 Dickson. Here, boy! Take this oar; hold it so-fashion — keep 
 the boat up ag’inst the stack ! (Mounts the stack.) There’s no gal 
 here ! Jest my cussed luck ! 
 
 Abim. 0 ! the boat’s goin’ off ! I can’t keep it! Father 1 
 
 Mr. J. Reach me the eend of the oar ! 
 
 Abim. 0, quick ! 
 
 Mr. J. I got ye ! Keep tight holt! 
 
 Dick. Why did n’t ye do as I told ye ? Be ye a fool ? 
 
 Abim. Darn that man ! I wish he was drownded ! 
 
 Mr. J. Hush, Bim’lech ! Now hold yer lantern ! (Shoves off.) 
 
 Dick. What ye ’bout? Here ! take me aboard ! 
 
 Mr. J. I got to look arter them lambs. Hold the lantern, Bim’- 
 tech ! 
 
 Dick. Jest my cussed luck ! — Don’t leave a feller in this kind o* 
 vray ! Han’t ye got no human feel’n’s? 
 
 Mr. J. Can’t ye swim ? 
 
 Dick. No ! Scoundrel ! 
 
 Mr. J. Wal—’tend to your case in the mornin’. Hold yer lan¬ 
 tern, Bim’lech ! ( Exeunt, in boat r. h. u. e.) 
 
 5 
 
60 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK.WOOD. 
 
 [ACT XT 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE T. — Early morning. A Room in Mu. Greenwich’s House . 
 
 Enter Mr. Greenwich, Mrs. Greenwich, and Etty, weeping „ Xtr 
 
 hands to her face. Enter Robert. — 
 
 Mr. Greenwich, (c.) Daughter, this Sabbath morning appears a 
 fitting occasion, and we will proceed to a settlement. 
 
 Mrs. Greenwich, (l.) The child is almost down sick — 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! (Seats himself.) This way, daughter. 
 Put down your hands. (Etty, r. c., puts down her right hand.) I 
 said put down your hands. (She puts down her left, and puls up her 
 right.) Daughter ! (She puts both down.) Now give me your eye ! 
 
 Mrs. G. The poor child has such a cold in her head and eyes — 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! How often must I request that you will 
 not interfere in the paternal discipline? (Robert whistles.) Son 
 Robert ! is it becoming in you to whistle on an occasion of this nature? 
 Respect the paternal head ! 
 
 Robert, (r.) To be sure ! (Drums with his fingers.) 
 
 Mr. G. Daughter, hold up your right hand. For remissness in 
 your Latin lessons the past week, you, Henrietta Greenwich, are 
 sentenced to one day upon bread and water. For laughing twice, 
 while that I was speaking, on Friday night, another day. For using 
 the unladylike expression, O dear, I can’t! when that I gave you a 
 task, half a day. For smiling during the divine service, last Sabbath, 
 half a day ; total, three days on bread and water, — namely, Sunday, 
 Tuesday, and Thursday. Thank me, daughter ! 
 
 Etty. (Sobbing.) Thank you, sir ! 
 
 Mr. G. Daughter, you can withdraw. Son Robert, I have also 
 treasured a few words for your edification. 
 
 Rob. Proceed ! (Hums an air.) 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert, a more respectful attitude will be quite as 
 becoming in listening to the paternal head. 
 
 Mrs. G. * Come here, my poor child ! ( To Etty.) 
 
 Mr G. Mrs. Greenwich ! Son Robert, you amaze me ! 
 
 Rob. 0, do I? That’s quite extraordinary ! ( Assumes a prim 
 
 attitude, and twirls his thumbs.) 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert, your conduct of late lias been disgraceful to 
 the name of .Greenwich ! The report is, that you indulge im drarn- 
 irinking ; and you have carried your disregard for my wishes so far 
 as to smoke cigars in my own house ! (A pinch of snuff.) 
 
 Rob. (Aside.) I ’ll abjure Havanas, and addict myself to snuff ! 
 Go it, old white-head ! 
 
 Enter Enos, l. 
 
 Enos. Wal, ’Squire Greenwich, they ben havin’ a tearin’ time 
 down the crick,— I s’pose you heerd. 
 
 Rob . Sit down, Mr. Crumlett. 
 
 Enos. Who’d a’ thought Charlotte Woods was nothin’ but a 
 nigger gal, arter all ? ’T was dre’ful bad, though, ’bout her beia’ 
 drownded ! 
 
SCENE II.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 
 
 51 
 
 Ah's. G., Rob., and Etty. Drowned ! 
 
 Mr. G. Mrs. Greenwich ! Daughter ! Son Robert ' I was about 
 to speak ! What is this you say, Enos? 
 
 Enos. Han’t you heerd, though ? She was hid in Jackwood’s 
 stack, down on the bottom ; when the dam broke away, and kivered 
 the stack in over ten foot of water ! 
 
 Rob. {Aside.) Death and furies ! Drowned ! 
 
 Enos. Look here, Bob ! That X. Y. Z. chap o’ vourn — 
 
 Rub. Hist ! 
 
 Enos. The stack makes an island, and he’s turned to a kind o’ 
 Robinson Crusoe. As for Jackwood, he’s gone off, nobody knows 
 Where. It’s ben a reg’lar tearin’ time, tell you ! (Robert crosses l. ) 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert ! If you are about to leave the house, listen 
 to the paternal voice, and remain ! 
 
 Rob. {Aside.) I must know the truth of this ! Hell-fire is in me ! 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert ! Son Robert ! Detain him, Enos ! 
 
 Rob. Hands off"! By heaven ! {Rushes off, l.) 
 
 Enos. Wal, ’pears to be in suthin’ of a hurry ! 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert ! Son Robert ! Hearken ! remain ! Son 
 Robert! {Exit, l. Mrs. Greenwich and Etty follow . 
 
 Enos. Wal, slim chance for a spec’laiiou in these parts ! Guess 
 I ’ll go an’ see Tildy ‘Exit, l.) 
 
 SCENE II - A Room in Mr. Rukely’s House. A table, c. Enter 
 
 Mr. Rukely. 
 
 Mr. Rukely. What a terrible night it has been ! I could not sleep, 
 for thinking of my sermon. {Takes MS. from table.) 
 
 Enter Bertha, r., in morning dress. 
 
 Bertha. Husband ! 
 
 Mr. R. IIoav pleasant it is, indeed, to hear that word ! Husband t 
 
 Bcr. I thought your sermon was finished. 
 
 Mr. R. There are one or two things I wash to alter. 
 
 Ber. I am afraid you won’t see so large a congregation, to-day, as 
 you expected. 
 
 Mr. R. It is my first sermon on the slavery questxm ; and I think 
 there ’ll be a pretty general turn-out to hear it. {Seated l. of table.) 
 Shall I read my fourthly aloud? 
 
 Ber. (r. of table.) 0, certainly. 
 
 Mr. R. {Reads.) The great danger consists in taking narrow 
 and sectional views of a subject which should only be regarded in a 
 broad, national light. That seems to me to be an unanswerable point. 
 Don’t you think so, my dear? 
 
 Ber , {A'early asleep.) 0, yes ! I think so. 
 
 Mr. R. {Reads.) We have no right to peril the welfare and hap - 
 pincss of a nation, by espousing the cause of one person against the 
 laws made to protect and regulate all. Is not that conclusive ? 
 
 Ber. Entirely so. But I am not sure I understand. We are not 
 to assist fugitive? 
 
52 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [icrr nr 
 
 Mr. R. Certainly not! Is it not just ? 
 
 Ber. True ; I suppose so. ( Fulls asleep.) 
 
 Mr. R. For, as I go on to say, (Reads.) The laws are tacred s 
 and if those sta utes — (Knock heard, l.) 
 
 Ber. (Starting up.) Did you speak? (Knock.) 
 
 Mr. R. There is somebody at the door. Matilda ! 
 
 Enter Matilda, r. Knocks continued. 
 
 Ber See who is at the door. 
 
 Matilda. (Crosses, l.) Perty smart, I should think ! Have to 
 gall me to do everything ! I wish folks could wait on themselves ! 
 
 (Knocks. Exit, l.) 
 
 Ber. (Arranging her morning dress.) I wonder who it can be, at 
 this hour ! Sunday morning, too ! 
 
 Reenter Matilda, l. 
 
 Matilda. 0, Mr. Rukely ! There’s a man out here with a horse, 
 and some dead person in his arms ! 
 
 Mr. R. and Bertha. Some dead person ! 
 
 Enter Mr. Jackwood, l., bearing Camille. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. (c ) Make way, Tildy ! 
 
 j Ber. (l. ) Good heavens ! 
 
 Mr. R. Neighbor Jackwood ! 
 
 Mr. J. Help me git this ’ere poor gal to a fire. 
 
 Ber. What has happened to her? 
 
 Mr. J. She’s ben drownded. 
 
 Mr. R. Drowned ! 
 
 Ber. (Recognizes Camille.) 0, Charlotte ! 
 
 Mat. Charlotte Woods ! 
 
 Mr. R. Be calm, my dear ! 
 
 Mr. J. We’d better be gittin’ her dry and warm, fust thing. 
 
 Ber. Bring her right in here! Come, Matilda ! (Exit, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Mr. J. (Carries Camille out, r. 2 e.) Poor gal ! poor gal ! 
 
 Mat. I wonder if Enos knows ! (Exit, R. 2 E.) 
 
 Mr. R. What can it mean ? Charlotte Woods ! (Reenter Mr. 
 Jackwood.) Shall I send for the doctor? 
 
 Mr. J. (l.) Mr. Itukely, you ’re a minister o’ the blessed gospel , 
 you got lamin’ and.genus, an’, more ’n all that, I b’lieve your heart’s 
 in the right place. 
 
 Mr. R. For mercy’s sake ! what is the trouble ? 
 
 Air. J. Charlotte’s a fugitive, and the kidnabbers are arter her ! 
 
 Mr. R A fugitive ! A slave ! 0, my sermon ! 
 
 Air. J. We had her hid in the stack, last night; but she got 
 drownded out. She got on the shed, and was there when it washed 
 away. I tell ye what, it give me a start I shanh git over in a hurry, 
 when I got to the stack and found her missin’. flfal, I thought it all 
 over. You know Osborne’s Flats? There’s a place, down there, 
 makes a big, shaller basin, where flood-wood swims round and round, 
 sometimes, for half a day ; so when we got up with the boat, I jumped 
 en to ol’ Dan, and rode down to the turnpike ; and there, arter h int* 
 
SCENE U.J 
 
 KEIGHBOR JACKWOOD 
 
 53 
 
 in’ round till daylight, and jest as I was goin’ to give her up, I heard 
 a sheep bl’at. Then I looked sharp, an’ I see suthin’ lodged agin a 
 knoll. Wal, sir, ’t was that shed-ruff ; and Charlotte was on it, with 
 two o’ my lambs she’d helped out o’ the water. She was boldin’ to 
 some bushes, to keep the raft from floatin’ off". I got her on to the 
 •hoss, and brought her here ; and now she’s safe agin, I tell ye, I 
 feel jest like a new man ! 
 
 Mr. R. Safe ! (Aside.) My sermon ! 
 
 Mr. J. She’s been through a dre’ful tough night! 
 
 Mr. R. In my house ! 
 
 Mr. J. I ’ve an idee strikes me ! The kidnabbers will think she 
 drownded—don’t you see? They’ll give her up; and then we’ll 
 hurry her otf to Canada. 
 
 Mr. R. But, if the story should get out ! 
 
 Mr. J. Jest make sure of Tildy, and I don’t see how it any ways 
 can. You’ve no scruples agin keepin’ her, of course? 
 
 Mr. R. No scruples — that is, the laws of the country — 
 
 Mr. J. I tell ye what ! I respect the laws, and I don’t think I ’a. 
 a bad citizin, gen’ly speakin’. But, come case in hand, a human crit¬ 
 ter ’s of more account than all the laws in Christendom. When He 
 was on ’arth ( points upward ), He never stopped to ax whether it was 
 lawful to do a good deed, but went and done it! 
 
 Mr. R. Neighbor Jackwood, you are right ! You can depend upon 
 me !— (Aside.) My sermon ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bless you, sir ! I knowed it ! When there’s a duty to be 
 done to a feller-mortal, you an’t the man to stop to look arter the con¬ 
 sequences ! On’y take care o’ that poor gal— ( chokingly) —excuse 
 me, I — I — I believe I took cold in the boat ! Bless you, sir ! I ’ll 
 thank you some other time ! ( Wrings his hand, and exit, l. ) 
 
 Mr. R. Most extraordinary ! A fugitive in my house ! 0, my 
 
 miserable, heartless sermon ! 
 
 Berilm. (At the door , it. 2 e.) Husband, will you heat some 
 brandy ? As quick as you can, please ! 
 
 Mr. R. I heat brandy for a fugitive? — I ? ( Gathers up the sheets 
 
 of his sermon , and hurries from the room , l. 2 e.) 
 
 Ber. Why, husband ! What are you doing? 
 
 Reenter Mr. Rukely. 
 
 Mr. R. Kindling the fire, to heat some brandy. 
 
 Ber. But that was your sermon ! 
 
 Mr. R. I hope it will do good. 0, Bertha, I find there is a differ 
 ence between writing from the head and acting from the heart! 
 
 Ber. What do you mean? 
 
 Mr. R. Neighbor Jackwood has taught me a lesson. I have written 
 out cold, theories, and you have assented to them drowsily ; but when 
 J tell you that Charlotte Woods, in that room, is — 
 
 Ber. What? 
 
 Mr. R. Is herself a fugitive ! — 
 
 Ber. Charlotte Woods? 
 
 Mr. R. Shall we turn her from our door ? 
 
 Ber. Not for all the world ! 0 ! Charlotte ! 
 
 Mr, R. You are awake, now — so am I! How have we talked, 
 5* 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [act it. 
 
 o4 
 
 and written, and fallen asleep, with our cold, dead theories, like the 
 thoughtless world around us ! But there is a living soul in that room ! 
 We are responsible for her to our Divine Master ! We will save her ! 
 Ber. We will save her ! ( Exeunt , r. 2 e.) 
 
 SCENE III. — Mr. Jackwood’s Kitchen. Enter Mr. Jackwood, 
 
 Dickson, and Abimelech, d. f. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. (Down c.) Hope ye had a good time, out on the 
 stack, there. Bim’lech, here, was for leavin’ ye to pass yer Sunday 
 there ; but I guessed mebby you ’d like to go to meetin’. 
 
 Dickson, (r. ) All right ! I shall get my pay, I reck’n. 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, you’d oughter ! A man ’t puts his hand to your 
 kind o’ business desarves to git his pay ! You did n’t see none o’ my 
 drownded sheep, did ye ? 
 
 Dick. I had somethin’ else to think of. 
 
 Mr. J. Glad o’ that ! It’s Sunday, and we’d ought all on us to 
 be thinkin’ o’ suthin’ else. I s’pose you ’ll st:iy to breakfast with us. 
 You desarve some breakfast, that’s a fact. Speak to the folks, Bim¬ 
 ’lech. (Abimelecii yoes off, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Dick. Look a-here ! What’s the wuth of a farm like this o* 
 vourn ? 
 
 Mr. J. Th'nk of buyin’ and settlin’ amongst us, do ye? Took with 
 our manners and customs, I s’pose. 
 
 Dick. I only asked for information. 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, in that case, — though’t is Sunday, — I don’t mind 
 Bayin’ that the vally I set on my property, here, is seven thousan’ 
 dollars, cash on the nail ! (Abimelech returns , and crosses , l.) 
 
 Dick. An’ s’pos’n you should wake up, some finemornin’, and find 
 you had n’t no farm, an’ no seven thousan’ dollars, nuther ? 
 
 Mr. J. I should try to git along without, then ; and larn to be 
 thankful for what I did have. 
 
 Dick. I’d advise ye to cultivate that feel’n’, ’gainst the time comes • 
 an’ I prophesy’t won’t be slow com’n’ ! ' 
 
 Mr. J. That’s perty talk from a man’t I’ve invited toT)reakfast! 
 
 Dick. I reck’n your firm an’t none too big to cover this little 
 business o’ yourn — ye understand? Harborin’ and rescuin’ that gal! 
 The wuth of a fine, han’some piece of property, like her, an’t less ’n 
 fifteen hundred, in the fust place. These yer white ones come mighty 
 high. Then there ’s fines, and imprisonment — 
 
 Mr. J. It’s Sunday, an’ we w r on’t. talk over business*! guess, ’fore 
 to-morrer. But, I ’ll tell ye one thing : though I set as much by my 
 farm as any man, I would n’t mind losin’ it in a good cause, if I could 
 be o’ sarvice to a feller-critter by so doin’, an save ’em from scoun¬ 
 drels and man-stealers, like you ! 
 
 Dick. I’m used to these cases. 
 
 Mr. J. Wal, I an’t, an' I’m glad on’t! But le’s drop the subject 
 We ’ll have breakfast. 
 
SCENE IV j 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 
 Enter Mrs. Jackwood and Phcebe, r. 2 e. 
 
 Abimclech. (l.) Darned if I’d give him any breakfast! (The% 
 sit at table.) 
 
 Phcebe. I can’t eat, this mornin’. 
 
 Mr. J. We ’ll excuse ye. But don’t cry no mere ; ’t won’t do ne 
 good. 
 
 Dick. I s’pose ye won’t object to lendin’ me a hoss for a couple of 
 tours, this mornin’ ? 
 
 Mr. J. I do object to lendin’ you a hoss ! 
 
 Dick. I reck’n I’m good for more ’n one hoss ! 
 
 Mr. J. Mebby ; but I should want suthin’ ’sides your business oi 
 your face to recommend ye. 
 
 Abim. There’s somebody come 1 
 
 Mr. J. See who it is, my son. 
 
 Abim. (At d. f.) It’s one o’ them men ! Says he wants Dickson. 
 
 Dick. I ’ll be that* in a minute. 
 
 Mr. J. Ask him to come in and have some breakfast. 
 
 Abim. I would n’t 1 
 
 Mr. J. Mind ! 
 
 Abim. Darn the kidnappers, I say? 
 
 Dick. What do I owe ye ? (Takes out purse.) 
 
 Mr. J. Not a red cent ! 
 
 Dick. Don’t ye never take pay when strangers put up with ye ? 
 
 Mr. J. I neither lend nor sell to sich as you ! Your money ’s 
 *arnt in a bad trade, and I’d ruther have nothin’ to do with it ! 
 
 Dick. Cuss these Yankee farmers ! (Exit, d. f.) 
 
 (Abimelech shakes his fist behind Dickson’s back. Mrs. Jack- 
 wood scrapes dishes with knife, clearing table.) 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! 
 
 Abim. (Down i. c.) Say, they can’t git your farm away from ye, 
 can they? 
 
 Mr. J. (c.) You may be sartin they will, if they can ! The law ’a 
 on their side, too, I s’pose. 
 
 Abim. I would n’t let ’em ! I’d sue 'em ! 
 
 Mr. J. That ’ll do, Bim’lech. We ’ll be gettin’ ready, now, to go 
 to meetin’. We are goin’ to the house of Him — so, le’s banish all self¬ 
 ish thoughts, and forgive our enemies—even the poor, ignorant kid- 
 nabbers, that come a-hunting their human prey into the very quiet of 
 our homes. Come, Phoebe ; come, Bim’lech. ( Exeunt , r. ) 
 
 SCENE IV. — Mr. Rukely’s Kitchen. Enter Enos, r., and Ma¬ 
 tilda, l. 
 
 Enos. Wal, ’Tildy, how de dew these times, hey? Whew ! han’‘ 
 I put in, walkin’ down* here through the mud ! 
 
 Matilda. Take off your coat, and set down. 
 
 Enos. ( Takes off outside coat.) You’ve heard the news, I s’pose. 
 Mat. About Charlotte Woods? 
 
 Eirs, Queer, an’t it 9 (Havgs coat on chair , and sits down t 
 
 i. o > 
 
\ 
 
 66 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. [AOT IV. 
 
 r 
 
 Mat. (Seated , l.) 0,1 wasn’t much surprised ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, I was, now ! I knowed her like a book. She wan’t 
 half so black as some white folks I know. She was jest dark enough 
 to be re’l perty. 
 
 Mat You fancy dark complexions, I see. 
 
 Enos. Of course I do — 
 
 Mat. I admire your taste ! 
 
 Enos. And that’s what makes me like you. 
 
 Mat. *You don’t call me dark, I hope ? 
 
 Enos. I don’t call you nothin’ else. 
 
 Mat. Well, if you han’t got eyes ! 
 
 Enos. You ’re darker ’n Charlotte Woods, now, come ! 
 
 Mat. I ? Maybe I be ! Your welcome to think so ; as if I eared ! 
 
 Enos. Need n’t be mad ! I don’t mean your skin is like hern - 
 
 Mat. Which you admired so much ! 
 
 Enos. You an’t exactly dark — Aval, I can’t express it ; on’y you ’re 
 red — no, not red, but kind o’ red and brown. Come, ye an’t mad, 
 be ye ? ( Hitches his chair towards her.) 
 
 Mat. I do wish you ’d go aAvay ! 
 
 Enos. There ! that’s all I wanted ! If you’ve got sich a temper, 
 I don’t see but that we may’s well break off ! ( Puts on his coat.) 
 
 Mat. If you want to go, I’m sure I shan’t hender ye ! 
 
 Enos. Much obleeged ! (Buttons his coat.) I’m glad you’re so 
 willin’ ! 
 
 Mat. Of course I am, if you’ve got sick of me, and want to break 
 olf ! ( Beginning to cry.) You Avould n’t quit so, if you wan’t ! It’s 
 
 you that ’s got temper, I should think ! 
 
 Enos. I ? I han’t got the least grain o’ temper in the world ! Look 
 here ! I guess Ave ’ll talk that over. 
 
 Mat. Set doAvn, Avon’t ye, while ye stay ? 
 
 Enos. No ! I’m in suthin’ of a hurry ! What do ye mean about 
 my havin’ temper ? Come ! 
 
 Mat. Take off your coat, won’t ye? 
 
 Enos. No ; I guess riot ! ( Unbuttons his coat.) 
 
 Mat. You better. It’s perty warm here. 
 
 Enos. Wal, you do beat all the gals ! You can make a feller dew 
 anything ! ( Pulls off his coat.) Kind o’ like ye, Tildy, arter all! 
 
 Mat. I did n’t know you was so well acquainted with Charlotte 
 Woods. 
 
 Enos. 0, I was n’t much. Who said I was ? 
 
 Mat. You ; you said you knew her like a book. 
 
 Enos. 0, Aval, I meant I’d seen her a good many times. What do 
 ye look so for ? 
 
 Mat. So — Iioaa . 
 
 Enos. ( Imitating.) Kind o’ so. Just as if you knowed suthin' *t 
 you Avould n’t tell. 
 
 Mat. I ? What do you mean ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, I an’t goin’ to tease. — Folks all gone to meetin’ ? 
 
 Mat. I han’t gone. 
 
 Enos. There’t is agin! See here! what is’t, now? Anything 
 about Charlotte ? 
 
 Mat. What do you care about Charlotte? 
 
 Enos. (Jumping up.) There ! I an’t a-goin’ to stan’ that, any way ! 
 
 (Puts on his coat.) 
 
SCENE V.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR „ ACKWOOlt 
 
 67 
 
 Mat. Stand what ? 
 
 Enos. ( Buttoning himself up to the chin.) You ’re so everlastin’ 
 silly ! So! {Imitating her simper.) And when I ask ye what it is, 
 tell me it’s none o’ my business ! ( Puts on his hat.) 
 
 ' Mat. Why, what do ye mean ? 
 
 Enos. You know suthin’, you know ye do! 
 
 Mat. If I do, it’s something I can’t tell. 
 
 Enos. Gosh all hemlock ! an’t we engaged ? If there’s anything 
 you can’t tell me, guess we may as well break off. 
 
 Mat. Bertha nevei d forgive me, if I should tell. 
 
 Enos. If you think more c Berthy ’n you do of me, that’s enough ’ 
 Good-by ! 
 
 Mat. Enos ! look here ! won’t ye never tell ? 
 
 Enos. Good-by ; I’m in a desprit hurry. 
 
 Mat. It’s something about Charlotte. 
 
 Enos. Sho’ ! You don’t, though, Tildy ! 
 
 Mat. Won’t ye never tell, now, as long as you live ? 
 
 Enos. No ; hope to die ! 
 
 Mat. 0, I would n’t have Bertha know, for the world ! 
 
 Enos. Sho’ ! You don’t say ! Chaidotte han’t got off, has she, 
 arter all the fuss about her bein’ drownded ? 
 
 Mat. She’s in this very house ! 
 
 Enos. No ! 
 
 Mat. True as I live ! Mr. Jack wood fetched her. 
 
 Enos. In this very house ! Beats everything ! What ’u’d them 
 Southern chaps give? Jingoes, Tildy ! it’s the greatest thing I ever 
 heerd in my life ! ( Gets up, sits down again , and doubles himself up , 
 embracing his knees, in a most extraordinary manner.) 
 
 Mat. Now, dou’t you ever tell, in all this world ! 
 
 Enos. An’t it a good one ? Takes me right out o’ my boots ! 
 Jerusha mighty ! {Going, u.) 
 
 Mat. Don’t go ! 
 
 Enos. Must ; I’m in a tearin’ hurry ! I got to go over to tie 
 tavern to see a man talks o’ tradin’ for my four-year-old mare. 
 
 Mat. Don’t ye tell ! {Puts up chairs behind.) 
 
 Enos. In this very house ! 0, ho ! ho ! he ! lie ! I shall die laf. 
 fin’ over it, if I stay another minute ! What’d that X. Y. Z. chap 
 give ? 
 
 Mat. Stay just a minute, Enos ! 
 
 Enos. Don’t stop me ! I tell ye, I’m in the allfiredest hurry ! 
 
 ( Exeunt , R.l 
 
 SCENE Y. — The Tavern Steps. 
 
 Enter Dickson, l. 
 
 Dickson. Shall have to give her up, I s’pose. It makes me mad, I 
 swear, to lose a gal that way ! Handsome piece o’ property, like 
 that — 
 
 Enter Enos, r. 
 
 Enos. Hello, you ! quite a spell o’ weather, arter the shower. 
 *T was dre’ful unfort’nit ’bout her gittin’ drownded ! Hey? 
 
 Dick. ’T an’t all over with yet, though ! 
 
.NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 68 
 
 r AOT IV 
 
 Enos. Sho’ ! 
 
 Dick. Things is work’n’. 
 
 Enos. I s’pose there an’t no doubt ’bout her bein’ drownded, hey' 
 Give ; t up as a gone case, I s’pose? 
 
 Dick. ’Mighty doubtful ’bout our ever bearin’ of her again, I 
 reck’n. 
 
 Enos. ’T wouldn’t be nothin’ so very strange, though, if she was 
 hid away somewheres right in the neighborhood, would it? Though, 
 of course, ’tan’t ’tall likely. 
 
 Dick. The next thing would be, to get a clue. 
 
 Eiios. ’T would n’t be a bad joke, hey ? You’d be tickled, I guess ’ 
 
 Dick. Wal, I should ! 
 
 Enos. Can’t help laffin’ ! 
 
 Dick. (Aside.) Something here ! I’d give a hundred dollars ! — 
 
 Enos. Hey ! what ? 
 
 Dick. I ’<1 give a hundred dollars, just to have such a clue as I 
 speak of. 
 
 Enos. You would n’t give me a hundred dollars, now, jest s’pose, 
 for instance — (Aside.) Goodness gracious ! how it makes the sweat 
 start ! 
 
 «• Dick. Tell ye what I would do, just for the sake o’ talk’n’. I’d 
 give fifty dollars, cash down, and fifty more in case the gal was found. 
 
 Enos. (Aside.) How like Sam Hill it makes me shiver ! — But, 
 since she’s drownded, there an’t no use talkin’. Bine spell o’ 
 weather, looks like, now 
 
 Dick. You an’t goin ? 
 
 Enos. Wal, yis — I’m in suthin’ of a hurry. Ye ’xpect to stay 
 long in these parts ? 
 
 Dick. That depends. If I could lay hands on that gal — 
 
 Enos. He ! he ! Haf to laf ! — What if I could find out suthin’ 
 about her? — though ’tan’t possible, of course ! Oo-oo-ooh ! (Shiv¬ 
 ers, and wipes the sweat from his face with his sleeve.) 
 
 Dick. Look a-here ! (Takes gold from his pocket.) Three — six 
 •— nine — there’s twelve half-eagles ; that makes sixty dollars. Here, 
 don’t go ! 
 
 Enos. (Shivering.) Must; I’m in a desprit hurry. (Aside.) 
 Jerusha mighty ! what if I should tell ? Oo-oo-ooh ! 
 
 Dick. But, see here ! 
 
 Enos. You don’t mean to say you’d give that —• 
 
 Dick. Yes, and as much more, when the gal’s found. Now, that ’s 
 fair ! 
 
 Enos. So ’t is ; but what’s the use ? Of course she’s drownded ! 
 
 Dick. That’s gold ; twice sixty’s a hundred and forty. 
 
 Enos. A liunderd and twenty. 
 
 Dick. Wal, we’ll call it a hundred and forty — sixty down, and 
 eighty on condish’n. 
 
 Enos. (Aside.) A hundred and forty ! Jerusha mighty ! Here h 
 a chance for a spec’lation ! I ’ra afraid I shall tell ! — I guess I ’ll be 
 gein’ ; I’m in a good deal of a hurry. 
 
 Dick. She’s got friends up here, I reck’n. They’d buy her 
 ruther ’n see her go South agin, would n’t they ? Her owner’s in New 
 York. All he wants is the wuth of his property 
 
 Enos. That’s nat’ral. Oo-oo-oo-ooh ! 
 
»C£NE VI.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACRWOOD. 
 
 59 
 
 Dick. And ’t would be a mighty sight better for you an 5 Mr. Jack- 
 wood, too ! 
 
 Enos. Ifey ! Better for me an’ Jaekwood ? 
 
 Dick. Of course. I don't say’t I blame either of ye ; bui I s’pose 
 you know the consequences of helpin’ a fugitive off. 
 
 Enos. Sho ! * 
 
 Dick. I consider it wuth about five hundred dollars to be pitched 
 Hit o’ the window, that way — 
 
 Enos. Look here, now ! You don’t mean — 0, Jerusha mighty ! 
 
 here’s a chance for a spec’lation ! {Aside.) 
 
 Dick. But give me a clue to that gal, and we ’ll call that matter 
 iquare . you shall have the hundred and forty dollars besides. 
 
 Enos. See here, I an’t a goin’ to be scart, 0 no ! But, see here — 
 ( Wipes his face with his sleeve.) 
 
 Dick. What do ye say ? 
 
 Enos. Why, I could n’t find out nothin’, if I should try. Though, 
 by jingoes ! I ’ve a good notion jest to inquire ’round. 
 
 Dick. That’s right! Come, — come into the tavern and take 
 somethin’. 
 
 Enos. Can’t possibly, —I — I — I’m in a desprit hurry ! Oo-oo- 
 ooh ! 
 
 Dick. Come along ! 
 
 Enos. Why, of course, she’s drownded, — so I guess, on the hull, 
 ’t won’t be wuth while. 
 
 Dick. {Puts money in his hand.) I ’ll make it worth yer while ! 
 That’s to pay ye for yer trouble, any way. Come along ; I ’ll order 
 somethin’ hot for ye. {Exit, d. f.) 
 
 Enos. Gold! What ’u’d Tildysay? Oo-oo-ooh ! Jingoes! howl 
 sweat!—’Fraid I’m goin’ to have a shake o’ the ager ! Guess I may 
 as well take suthin’ hot! This come from the South — {looks at the 
 coin) — who knows but I may have ketched the yaller fever ! Oo-oo- 
 ooh ! I ’ll take suthin’ hot, any way ! {Exit, d. f.) 
 
 SCENE VI. — Room in Mr. Rukely’s House. Camille upon a 
 lounge. Bertha approaching her. 
 
 Bertha, (r.) You are better, now. 
 
 Camille. Cl.) 0, so much better, dear Bertha ! But I am very 
 feeble, yet. The horrors of last night haunt me still ! 
 
 Bcr. Do not think of them. 
 
 Cam. I dreamed that I was taken, and carried back into slavery. 
 
 Ber. You ! into slavery ! 0, Charlotte ! 
 
 Cam. Dc not call me Charlotte any more. My name is Camille. 
 
 Ber You have promised to tell me your history. 
 
 Cam. And so I will. My father was a French merchant, in New 
 Orleans ; my mother was a child of bondage. 
 
 Ber. A slave ! 
 
 Cam.. Do not blame them — they loved each other. I was their 
 only child. I was petted and spoiled, — 0, well do I remember those 
 happy days ! W T hen I was ten years old, my father was preparing to 
 take us to France — then first I knew the curse ! 
 
GO 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 [ACT 17. 
 
 Bi r. He died ! 
 
 Cam Too suddenly ! We were left slaves—we became the prop¬ 
 erty of a cold and cruel woman, — his wife, — who hated us because 
 he had loved us. Her cruelty broke my mother’s heart. 1 was 
 sold. 
 
 Ber. You, Charlotte ! sold ! 
 
 Cam. Yes, — and sold again and again! My third mistress was 
 Mrs. Graves, the most beautiful character I ever knew ; she made me 
 her companion, educated me, and loved me as a sister. 
 
 Ber. Why did you not stay with her always? 
 
 Cam. Ah, Bertha, the poor slave-girl cannot choose ! Her husband 
 sold me, in a fit of jealous rage. I became the property of a specu¬ 
 lator in Mobile. 
 
 Ber. Property ! 
 
 Cam. 0, Bertha, you don’t know what it is to be the property of 
 a brutal, sensual man ! Fortunately, his wife was jealous, and pro¬ 
 tected me. It was in her house that I first saw — Hector. 
 
 Ber. Hector Dunbury ! 
 
 Cam. He was brought there by a friend of Mrs. Tan wood’s, named 
 Roberts. It was this Roberts who assisted me to escape. We commu¬ 
 nicated by secret signs and notes. He brought me the articles of my 
 disguise, and took me one night on board a vessel in the bay. 0, but 
 he proved a traitor, Bertha ! He accompanied me on the voyage to 
 New York, not as the friend I thought him, but as a vulture, who had 
 snatched me from other vultures to make me his private prey ! 
 
 Ber. Tell me how ! 
 
 Cain. All that must remain till I am stronger. The wound you 
 discovered on my breast — 
 
 Ber. He stabbed you there ! 
 
 Cam. ’T was I who placed the knife between us, to save what was 
 dearer than life. I appealed to the captain, and he brought me 
 to New York, and placed me on board a sloop bound up the North 
 River, and gave me a letter to a brother, at White Hall. 
 
 Ber. And your owner, — did he pursue you ? 
 
 Cam. Not then ; but he came shortly after to New York. 
 
 Ber. And you reached White Hall ? 
 
 Cam. There I heard bad news. Captain Damon’s brother had 
 removed into the country. I set out, travelling on foot, to find him. 
 I had been frustrated, terrified, wearied, and famished, when good 
 Mr. Jackwood befriended me — 
 
 Enter Matilda, d. 2 e. l. 
 
 Matilda. There is somebody coming to the house ! 
 
 Ber. Who can it be ? Run and see, Matilda. 
 
 {Exit Matilda,* ix 2 *. 
 
 Cam. 0, Bertha ! I fear — 
 
 Ber. Be quiet! I will listen ! 
 
 Robert. {Without.) I must see her ! Give way 1 
 
 Ber. It is Robert ! 
 
 Cam. (r.) Conceal me ! Save me ! 
 
 Enter Matilda, d. 2 e l. 
 
 Matilda I could n’t help it -he would come in ! 
 
DCENE VI.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOO© 
 
 @1 
 
 Ber. You are discovered ! 
 
 Enter Robert, d. 2 e. l. 
 
 Robert. I am come to save you ! ( Crosses to c.) 
 
 Cum. Then I am lost, indeed ! 
 
 Ber. 0, Robert Greenwich ! 
 
 Rob. Lose not a moment or a word ! I thought yc a dead f In 
 that thought I have suffered a thousand deaths ! Dickson is on your 
 track 1 • ' 
 
 Ber Why do you doubt ? Surely, he is your friend ! 
 
 Cam. If I have an enemy in the wide world, it is he 1 
 
 Ber. How ? 0, no, Camille ! 
 
 Cam. I told you of Roberts, the treacherous friend. I told not one 
 half. Roberts and Robert Greenwich are the same ! 
 
 Rob. 0, Camille, — as I have wronged you, all I live for now is to 
 make atonement! 
 
 Ber. Tell us, how has she been discovered ? 
 
 Rob. By a bribe — Dickson fell in with Crumlett — 
 
 Ber. 0, Matilda ! It is what I feared ! 
 
 Mat. Enos ! 
 
 Ber. Why did you tell — 
 
 Mat. I, tell! I never did ! I hope to die ! I never lisped it to a 
 -soul! 
 
 Ber. True, Matilda ? Not even to Enos ? 
 
 Mat. He promised me he would n’t tell ! 
 
 Ber. Matilda, what have you done ? 
 
 Rob. Help, Bertha ! ( Takes hold of Camille.) I have a swift 
 
 Rorse at the door — I will take her to a place of safety — Dickson will 
 soon be here ! 
 
 Cam. Away ! I will meet my fate ! 
 
 Ber. No, no, Camille ! He is sincere — he will save you! We 
 cannot hide you here ! 
 
 Rob. A moment’s delay will ruin all ! For heaven’s sake ! for 
 your own sake ! believe me ! trust me ! Hark ! 
 
 Ber. ( Throwing a shawl upon her.) 0, if Mr. Rukely were here ! 
 Go, go, Camille ! 
 
 Cam. I cannot! (Knocking , d. l.) 
 
 Rob. It is they ! Save her! This way ! (Knockir g continued.) 
 
 Ber. Matilda, help ! (Crash, l.) 
 
 Diokson, Dole, and Men , burst in at d. l., as Robert, Behtha, a'td 
 Matilda, hurry Camille out , d. b. 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKW DOD. 
 
 ACT 
 
 ACT Y. 
 
 SCENE I — A Room in Crumlett’s House. Enos, c., scuntingi 
 money upon the lid of a trunk. 
 
 Enos Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty — Ha ! What ’a 
 that ? Gracious ! what a start it give me ! It’s nothin’ but a mouse 
 in the wall.—Thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty— (Starts.) I’m 
 sure I heerd a laugh ! Somebody said, Enos Crurnlett! Enos Crum - 
 lett! jest as plain ! Forty-five, fifty, fifty-five — 
 
 Enter Dickson, l. 
 
 Dickson. Crurnlett! 
 
 E nos. Murder ! murder ! murder ! (Scrapes up the gold.) It’s 
 you ! I thought—jingoes ! I never was so scart! Breakin’ in on 
 to a feller that kind o’ way ! What do ye want ? 
 
 Dick. I want to pay you that other eighty dollars. 
 
 Enos. You han’t ketched her ! 
 
 Dick. No ; but we ’re goin’ to, I reck’n. I’ve got a clue. Bob 
 Greenwich has been pass’n’ bogus. 
 
 Enos. This an’t bogus, is it ? 
 
 Dick. Never you fear ! Do you know a log hut off in Colyer’s 
 woods ? 
 
 Enos. Wal — yes. It’s a tarnal ways off, though ! 
 
 Dick. Never mind that. A gang of counterfeiters have been coinin’ 
 bogus in that hut, and it’s my ’pinion it’s there Bob Greenwich has 
 carried that gal. Come, Dole is wait’n’ ; we want you to show us 
 the way. 
 
 Enos. And you ’ll give me the eighty dollars? 
 
 Dick. Money’s ready. 
 
 Enos. Wal, I swanny, now, it ? s kind of a temptation ! May as 
 well go in for a hull sheep as a lamb. You ’re sure this an’t none o’ 
 that bogus, hey ? 
 
 Dick. Come along ! (Exit, l. ) 
 
 Enos. I shall be feelin’ consarned about this money, now,all the 
 time I’m gone. I — I’m most afraid to leave it. I wish I’d hid it 
 under the floor. 
 
 Dick, (l., without.) Hurra ! 
 
 Enos. Wal ; I’m cornin’ ! Jerusha mighty ! I’m sure I shall be 
 robbed ! What a plague it is to be rich ! — 
 
 Dick. ( Without.) Crurnlett ! 
 
 Enos. Wal • in a minute. Jingoes ! I shall haf to take it with me ! 
 ’T an’t safe to leave it in thfe trunk. 
 
 Dick. (Without.) An’t you com’n’to-day ? 
 
 Enos. Jerusha mighty ! What if he only wants to get me out one 
 side to rob me, arter all ? I ’ll leave it in the trunk ! No, I won’t ! 
 Plague on so much money ! (Exit, L.) 
 
 SCENE II. — The Counterfeiters ’ Hut. Door r. c., in flat, with bar , 
 
 practical. Camille asleep within a recess, l. c., in fat. Robem 
 
 Greenwich, c., and Mrs. Sperkley, r., discovered. 
 
 Mrs. Sperkley. Why did you bring her here ? My husband al» 
 ways said, if we got found out, it would be through ycru 1 
 
flCEKE II.] NEIGHBOR JACKWOOU. €3 
 
 Robert. Nobody knows of this place. 
 
 Mrs. S. 0 dear ! What will ray husband say? 
 
 Rob. Hash! She is waking! Bring a glass of wine. .Msa 
 Sperkley brings bottle and glass from R. 2 e.) 
 
 Camille. 0, what dream is this? 
 
 Rob. You have been sleeping. 
 
 Cam. You ! (Springs up.) 
 
 Rob. Why do you dread me now ? Have I not saved you ? 
 
 Cam. 0, I am weak and bewildered ! Heaven pity me ! 
 
 Rob. (Takes glass f rom Mrs. Sperkley.) Drink this. 
 
 Qam. No ; leave me ! 
 
 Rob. You need it much. 
 
 Cam. Perhaps ; but I will not drink. Go ! 
 
 Rob. I am your servant. 
 
 Cam. Then obey me ! 
 
 Rob. I obey. (Hands the glass to Mrs. Sperkley.) Prevail upon 
 her to drink. ( Walks aside , r.) She is in my power, and the 
 devil tempts me ! What can I do to make her love me ? 0, demon ! 
 
 demon ! (Smites his brow.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Why, ’tan’t bad ; jest taste it ! 
 
 Cam. I have heard of people being drugged ! 0, you are a woman ! 
 Be my friend ! Do not let me take any hurtful drink ! — promise 
 that ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Who ever heard of such a thing ? 
 
 Rob. (Thrusting Mrs. Sperkley aside.) Go ! Leave us ! 
 
 Cam. 0, stay ! 
 
 Mrs. S. I will come back ! (Exit, d. f. ) 
 
 Rob. (Goes to the door, bars it, and returns.) If you can sleep, 
 let me sit here and watch. 
 
 Cam. Leave me, sir ! 
 
 Rob. 0, why are you so beautiful — so lovely? 
 
 Cam. Robert Greenwich ! will you go? 
 
 Rob. Camille, Canada must be reached. We will go together. The 
 service, the love, the life, of a great and passionate soul, are yours — 
 
 Cam. Tempter, begone ! 
 
 Rob. Scorn me, if you will ; but consider your danger ! 
 
 Cam. My danger is in you ! My whole nature, my life, my very 
 being, rises up against you ! 
 
 Rob. When you deprive me of hope, you drive me to despair. I 
 cannot lose you ! 0, Camille ! (Seizes her.) 
 
 Cam. Touch me not ! Serpent ! Help ! help ! 
 
 Mrs. S. ( Without, d. f.) Greenwich ! (Shakes the door.) 
 
 Rob. ( Unbars the door.) What do you want? 
 
 Enter Mrs. Sierkley. 
 
 Mrs. S. There are men in the burh ! 
 
 Rob. How many? (Looks out.) That accursed Dickson ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Shall I open ? (Knocks at d. f.) 
 
 Rob. Away! (Flings her off.) They have tracked us ! Your hunt¬ 
 ers are here ! Shall I save you ? 
 
 Cam. What do you mean ? (Knocks continued.) 
 
 Rob. You have distrusted, scorned me ! I’m not the fool to save 
 you for such pay. —- Choose ! 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD 
 
 L JI V 
 
 a 
 
 Cam. How choose ? 
 
 Rob. Between me and slavery ! Between me and a dozen brutal 
 masters ! 
 
 Cam. Come a thousand evils ! come slavery ! come death ! I can 
 die, but I cannot sin ! ( Knocks, D. F.) 
 
 Rob. In this house is a place of concealment. Once there, you are 
 safe. Only promise me your love ! 
 
 Cam. Save me for justice, for mercy — I will thank you ! But. if 
 for your own selfishness, I snail scorn you the more ! ( Violent 
 
 knocks, d. f.) 
 
 Mrs. S. We are lost ! 0 dear ! 0 dear ! 
 
 Rob. Is this your answer ? 
 
 Cam. It is my answer ! ( Sinks down in the recess.) 
 
 Rob. Your fate be upon your own head ! ( Throws open the door.) 
 Dickson, I ’m glad to see you ! 
 
 Enter Dickson, Oliver Dole, Sheriff, and others, d. f. 
 
 Dickson. Greenwich, I’m glad to see you ! Whar’s that gal ? 
 
 Rob. I brought her here to keep her till word could be got to you. 
 You ’ll thank me when you know all. 
 
 Dick, (r.) Thank you, with a vengeance ! There’s your man. 
 sheriff. 
 
 Sheriff, (c.) Robert Greenwkh, I arrest you for counterfeiting. 
 
 Rob. Ha ! this is your plan ! ( Struggles, but is overcome, and 
 
 handcuffed.) 
 
 Dick. (Crosses to Camille.) All right! Come, my chiok ! 
 
 Oliver Dole. No violence ! 
 
 Dick. I reck’n you ’ll go along ’thout any morefuvr. Three’s been 
 fool’n’ enough for one while. 
 
 (Camille rises, glances wildly around her, and fell' v. a swoon.) 
 
 Rob. Well, gentlemen ; I am ready ! 
 
 Mrs. S. What are you going to do with us ? 'J Iff I 
 
 Sheriff. Come along, and you ’ll see. 
 
 (.Exeunt Sheriff, Robert, Mrs. Sp'X Vfu r, an 1 others , d. f.) 
 
 Dick. I’ll fetch her out of this! I’ve wl rath tricks’fore to¬ 
 day ! 
 
 O. D. I’m astonished to find her so ♦'/.Mo 
 
 Dick. ( Roughly puts flask to Caw/e’p- lips.) Com’n’ to, a bit, 
 be ye? That’s right ; it’s got to cm#’ a, and the sooner it’s over, the 
 quicker. 
 
 O. D. Be careful with her. I J '/ t hard business enough, make the 
 best on’t. 
 
 Dick. (Raising her up.) G'.r.’t ye s’pose I know what 's for my 
 interest ? I ’ll handle her liV> sa egg. Grab holt, here ! 
 
 O. D. Good heavens ! dvYt drop her head that way ! (Assists to 
 remove her.) 
 
 Dick. Lord, she ’ll livo through it ! Seems to me you We crowed 
 mighty chick’n-hearted, era ca these cussed doughfaces set up such a 
 yell against us ! Cuss tci* Yankee farmers ! 
 
 (E mint, bearing Camille, p. 
 
SCENE JIT ] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK'WOOD 
 
 05 
 
 SCENE III. — Near Mr. Jackwood’s House. Enter Mr. Jackwood 
 and Abimelech, carrying Mrs. Rigglesty’s trunk. 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. Keep up your eend, Bim’lech ! 
 
 Abimeitd u, It’s plaguy heavy, any way ! Wait, and le’ me spit 
 cn my hands ! ( Lets the trunk fall.) 
 
 Mr. I. (r. c.) You ’re a smart boy ! 
 
 Abim. (l. c.) Darn her ol’ trunk, I say ! 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. ( Without, r.) I vum ! you ’ll have that 
 trunk broke all to pieces ! Sich carelissness ! 
 
 Enter Grandmother Rigglesty, dressed for a journey, and carry¬ 
 ing bundles. Enter Mrs. Jackwood, with bandbox; Phcebe, with 
 
 umbrella. 
 
 I an’t no more fit to be travellin’ ’n I be to fly ! I’m afraid I shan’t 
 be able to git olf to-day, arter all ! 
 
 Phcebe. (Runs, with alacrity, to help her.) 0, grandmother ! 
 
 G. R. You ’re mighty willin’ to help, seein’ I ’in goin’ away ' 0 
 
 dear ! my back ! (Sits down on the trunk, c.) 
 
 Abim. (l.) Mate her go ! I would ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech ! 
 
 G. R. I’m nothin’ but a burden, seems, in some places ! (Hand¬ 
 kerchief.) I got this ’ere Good Samaritan han’kerchief to make a 
 present on’t to one o’ you childern ; but there han’t neither on ye 
 desarved it ! 
 
 Abim. Heugh ! that ol’ rag ! 
 
 Mr. J. ’Sh, Bim’lech! — All ready, gran’mother. Bim’lech an* 
 I want to put the trunk into the buggy. 
 
 G. R. I s’pose you ’re in a hurry to git red of me ! Wal, you 
 won’t be troubled with me agin, very soon, I can tell ye that. 0 dear ! 
 my back ! 
 
 Mr. J. Bim’lech! none o’ that! (To Abimelech, who dances , 
 and shakes his fist behind her back.) Come, mother ! 
 
 G. R. Is my lunch’on in the bag ? I wish there’d been a bit o’ 
 cold ham to go with it. Where’s my umbrel ? 
 
 Ph. Here’t is ! 
 
 G. R. Wal, I’m glad to see ye willin’ to wait on me, fur once, if 
 ’t is to git red of me ! Tuck my shawl round my neck, Betsey. 0, 
 ho, hum ! Gi’ me your arm, Bim’lech ! 0, that crick in my back ! 
 
 It’s killed me ! 0 dear ! (Sinks back upon the trunk.) 
 
 Mr. J Once more, gran’mother ! Cheer up ! Here we are, all 
 right! 
 
 G. R. (Rises.) 0 dear ! 0 dear ! 
 
 Ph Good-by, gran’mother ! 
 
 G. R. That means good reddance, I s’pose ! Th’ han’t none of ye 
 kissed me. 
 
 Mrs. Jackwood. ( Kissing her.) Good-by, mother ! 
 
 G. R. Wal, Phoebe, (kissing her) I hope you’ll be a better gal 
 When I come agin. 
 
 Abim. I’m glad I an’t no taller ! 
 
 G. R. Come, sonny ; ye han’t ben a bit good boy since I ben 
 hei’e ; but I ’ll lass ye. 
 
 6 * 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD 
 
 [ACT V 
 
 C6 
 
 Abim. Can’t reach up ! 
 
 Mr. J. Come, boy, we ’re waitin’ ! Kiss yer gran’mother. 
 
 Abim. {Aside.) I’d ruther be licked ! 
 
 Ph. Come, Bim — indulge ! 
 
 Abim. I shall haf to, I s’pose ! {Makes a wry face, kisses lur, 
 and afterwards scours his lips on his sleeve.) Agh ! 
 
 G. R. There 1 ’t an’t hurt ye ! 0 dear 1 Wal, I s’pose I must go 
 
 'Enter Enos, l. u. e., in haste, and runs against her, as Mrs. Jack- 
 wood and Phcebe are helping her off. 
 
 0 » 
 
 Enos. 0 ! I was in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 G. R. That swindlin’ Crumlett! 
 
 {Exit, l. u. e., with Mrs. J. and Phcebe.) 
 Mr J. Ketch holt here, Bim’lech ! ( They carry off trunk, l. 
 
 Ur E.) 
 
 Enos. Heerd the news, Neighbor Jackwood, ’bout Charlotte 
 Woods ? 
 
 Mr. J. Charlotte ? They han’t ketched Charlotte ! 
 
 Enos. Beats all what mean folks there is in the world — don’t it, 
 now ? Who do ye s’pose went and told she was in Colyer’s log hut ? 
 Mr. J. Have they found her ? 
 
 Eiios. Yes — Bob Greenwich, too ! He’s up for counterfeitin’. 
 Mr. J. Charlotte ! Where is she? 
 
 Enos. Wal, they ’re takin’ her ’fore ’Squire Greenwich — he’s the 
 Commissioner, ye know ! Say, haf to buy her up, won’t we, some of 
 us? Of course we can’t think o’ leltin’ her be carried back. 
 
 Mr. J. Back to slavery! Our Charlotte! I’das soon think o* 
 lettin’ my own darter go ! Bring my musket, Bim’lech ! Enos, if 
 you 're a man —you shall take the axe ! 
 
 Abim. Here’s the ol’ musket ! 
 
 Mr. J. Give it here ! Bring the powder and balls ! Hurra for 
 old Vermont ! 
 
 Abim. I ’ll take the pitch-fork ! Hurra for old Vermont ! 
 
 {Exeunt Mr. J. and Abimelech, l. 1 e.) 
 Enos. Wal ! chance for a spec’lation ! Hurra for old Vermont ! 
 
 {Exit, l. 1 E.) 
 
 SCENE IV. — The Jail. Robert discovered in a cell, behind a 
 
 grated door, r. C. in flat, h : s face covered with his hands. Enter , in 
 
 the large hall, the Sheriff, followed by Mr. Greenwich, l. 
 
 Sheriff. This way, ’Squire Greenwich. 
 
 Mr. Greenwich. That the name of Greenwich should come to this ! 
 
 Sheriff. {Approaches Robert’s cell.) Mr. Greenwich ! {To Rob¬ 
 ert. ) He does not hear me. 
 
 Mr. G. Leave us, sir. (Sheriff retires.) 0 !. what do I behold 1 
 Son Robert! son Robert ! 
 
 Robert. {Starts up, and springs fiercely against the bars.) Ha ! 
 you have come ! 
 
 Mr. G. {In alarm.) Son Robert ! son Robert ! What is the mean 
 tng of this ? 
 
SCENE IV.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 67 
 
 Rob It means death ! 
 
 Mr. G. Merciful heaven ! Son Robert, you ai i msane ! 
 
 Rob. Does it seem so strange to find me here? 
 
 Mr. G. Assuredly, you are not guilty of this charge ! 
 
 Rob. I am guilty of all ! And I might have been guilty of mors, 
 could this hand have reached you ! ( Shakes his clenched hand through 
 bars.) 
 
 Mr. G. What ! you would not have raised that hand against the 
 paternal head ! 
 
 Rob. My life is blasted ! my career ends here ! and I have you to 
 thank ! Do you understand ? — You ! 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert, I do not understand ! I am overwhelmed ! 
 
 Rob. Old man, hear me ! It is for the last time, so heed m§ 1 
 Since the earliest years I can remember, I have had a burning hatred 
 in my heart for you ! 
 
 Mr. G. Beware, son Robert ! Remember whom you address ! 
 Respect the paternal head ! 
 
 Rob. Remember ! Respect ! — I cannot recall a single kind or lov¬ 
 ing word that ever you spoke to me ! If there was any goodness in me, 
 it was crushed out ; while every evil trait I inherited from you was 
 kept alive by you — by your cruel tyranny ! Now you behold me 
 here ! 
 
 Mr. G. Truly, truly, son Robert, you are beside yourself ! Who 
 reared you up from infancy with unswerving care ? Who kept you at 
 the Sabbath-school and at church? Who gave you tasks from the 
 Scriptur’s, to commit to memory ! Who taught you filial reverence 
 and respect for gray hairs? 0, wretched young man ! Where are 
 the talents intrusted to your care ? 
 
 Rob. The talents have brought me here. You did all you boast of; 
 and so I say I thank you ; for the very means you used made me hate 
 you and your lessons. I loathed the church and the Sabbath-school; 
 I never came near a Bible but I struck or kicked it, because of those 
 hated tasks ! 
 
 Mr. G. No more ! no more ! My pride was in you, my son, 0. 
 my son ! 
 
 Rob. Ay, groan, old man ! 
 
 Mr. G. Still you bear the respectable name of Greenwich, and I 
 can yet find it in my heart to render you service. 
 
 Rob. You can render none. I will accept none. 
 
 Mr. G. 0, Robert, my son ! my heart is cleft in twain ! 
 
 Rob. My vices ripened earlier than you thought. I had learned 
 hypocrisy in so perfect a family school that I was able to blind even 
 you. When I came of age, I went South, and there, in the hot-bed 
 of vice, my nature flourished. I ended by running away with a slave- 
 girl — this same Camille who is to be brought before you to-day. 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert ! Son Robert! 
 
 Rob. All summer I have pursued her. As you refused me money, 
 I got it as best I could. I joined a gang of counterfeiters — I dis» 
 tributed plenty of their coin. I carried Camille to our hut — but you 
 have heard the rest. I have s aked everything — I have lost — this is 
 the end ! 
 
 Mr. G. Merciful heaven ! Son .Robert ! my only son ! the hop* 
 tf my old age — 
 
68 NEIGHBOR JACK.WOOD. [ACT V 
 
 Rob. Remember what I have said. I have thrown that burden off. 
 Now go ! 
 
 Mr. G. But, my son, while that I return to my dishonored and 
 desolate home, let me carry with me the consolation of knowing that 
 you are contrite and repentant — 
 
 Rob. Carry with you my hatred and my curse ! 
 
 Mr. G. Son Robert ! Son Robert! — 
 
 Enter Sheriff, l 
 
 Sheriff". You are sent for, ’Squire Greenwich. 
 
 Mr. G. Ha ! Yes ! 
 
 Sheriff. The fugitive girl is taken to the court-room 
 
 Mr. G. I will come. Son Robert, one word to cheer your broken¬ 
 hearted father — 
 
 Rob. I have spoken it! ’T is the last yov shall ever hear from my 
 lips. That word is — my curse ! ( Shakes hit hand through the bars.) 
 
 Mr. G. Alas ! I am an afflicted, dishonored old man ! That the 
 respectable name of Greenwich should come to this ! ( Exeunt , l.) 
 
 SCENE V. — A Village Street. Enter Enos and Matilda, r 
 
 Enos. Don’t I tell ye I can’t stop ? I’m in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 Matilda. Jest a minute, Enos ! 
 
 Enos. Don’t bother me, I say ! 
 
 Mat. I have n’t seen you since Sunday. 
 
 Enos. Of course you have n’t ! I ’ve had suthin’ else to do. I’m 
 full o’ business ! Come, don’t bother ; I’m in a stavin’ hurry ! 
 
 Mat. You ’re going to the court-house ! They’ve got Charlotte 
 Woods there ; they ’re going to carry her back. 
 
 Enos. No, they an’t goin’ to carry her back, nuther ! 
 
 Mat. You had to go and tell! 
 
 Enos. Don’t you s’pose I know what I’m about? Don’t be a fool, 
 Tildy. They’d a’ found her, any way. Now we ’re goiu’ to make it 
 all right. We ’re goin’ to buy her. 
 
 Mat. Who is ? 
 
 Enos. Me and Jackwood, and a lot of us. Do you s’pose we ’re 
 goin’ to have her carried back? Of course her owner wants his pay, 
 and it’s nat’ral. 
 
 Mat. You ’ll pay out your money for Charlotte Woods, and you 
 wouldn’t git me that breast-pin I asked you for — it only cost a 
 shillin’ ! 
 
 Enos. Of course I would n’t ! 
 
 Mat. An’t we engaged? 
 
 Enos. Wal, — but I an’t sure o’ havin’ ye, arter all, and I an’t 
 goin’ to no expense on’t, till I be. 
 
 Mat. I knew you wanted to break off ! ( Cries.) 
 
 Enos. Who said anything about breakin’ off? Look here, Tildy , 
 ye an’t mad ’cause I went an’ told, be ye? 
 
 Mat. No ; though I don’t see what ye wanted to, for * And now 
 you ’re goin’ to pay out money for her ! 
 
 Enos. Jerusha mighty, Tildy ! I han’t told ye, but I wilL 1 
 shall make over a hunderd dollars by the operation ! 
 
IL'ENE YT.] 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACK WOOD. 59 
 
 Mat. I want to know ! 
 
 Enos. I ’ll tell ye, some time. I got to go now, or I shan’t git my 
 money. I’m in a desprit hurry ! 
 
 Mat . And you don’t want to break off? 
 
 Enos. Why should I want to break off? 
 
 Mat. You kept away from me so ! 
 
 Enos. Wal, — of course, — I thought you’d make a ’tarnal fuss, 
 ’cause I went and told. Jingoes ! Tildy ! we’ll be married next 
 week, if ye say so. 
 
 Mat. 0 ! will we ? 
 
 Enos. Only let me go now, ye know ! I’m in a tearin’ hurry ! 
 There, Tildy ! good-by. (Exit, l.) 
 
 Mat. Enos! Enos! (Exit, i..) 
 
 SCENE VI.— The Court-Room, c. doors guarded. Dickson and 
 
 Dole discovered, l., supporting Camille. A Lawyer at table, r. 
 
 c., behind. Officers and Men. Shouts without. 
 
 Dickson How do ye git on, my gal? Pooty comPtable ? (Puts 
 flask to her lips.) Suck this a little ; it ’ll do ye good. 
 
 Cam. (Feebly putting the flask aside.) 0 ! 
 
 Dick. There, I like that better. ’S long’s they can make that 
 noise there’s hopes on ’em. There’s a mighty sight o’ sham ’bout 
 these yer white ones. 
 
 Oliver Dole. There’s no sham here ! 
 
 Dick. Wal, sham or no sham, she’s got to go. Git her safe out o’ 
 the reach o’ these cussed abolish’nists, an’ I ’ll have a doctor look to 
 her. But I an’t go’n’ to run no risks. An’t there suthin’ here chokes 
 her? (Roughly opens Camille’s throat.) Git her up, so’s’t she can 
 suck the air a little freer, I reck’n, marshal. 
 
 O. D. Be careful with her, — be careful ! 
 
 Dick. Here, one o’ you men ; grab holt here ; jest keep her from 
 pitcliin’ out o’ the chair. Whar’s the Commissioner? We can’t 
 wait all day ! Shoot the fust man, there ! 
 
 Enos. ( Without, c. d.) Le’ me in ! Here ! don’t ye goto p’intin’ 
 yer shootin’-irons at me ! I’m in a desprit hurry ! (Enters, c. d. 'i 
 
 Dick. Let that man pass. V 7 liar’s yer Commissioner, I say. 
 (Paces to and fro.) Jest like yer cussed Yankees ! 
 
 Enos. (Looking at Camille.) I swanny ! that ’ere’s too bad, 
 now ! V 7 ho’d a’ thought ! Look here, you ! 
 
 Dick. (Furious.) What do you want? 
 
 Enos. You don’t happen to have a chaw o’ tobacker about ye, do 
 f6? (Shouts without.) 
 
 Dick. Hear them abolish’n cusses yell! 
 
 O. D. (Aside.) I’m sorry I meddled with this business. How do 
 /ou feel now, my girl ? 
 
 Dick. If that an’t a perty marshal ! It’s enough to make a man 
 sick! Here, I’ll make her sit up ! (Shakes Camille.) None o’ yer 
 tricks, my chick ! There ! hold her so. 
 
 Encs. That ’ere is too bad ! Say ! she ’ll be bought, won’t she? 
 
 D.rk W T ho d} you s’pose’s goin’ to buy her? 
 
NEIGHBOR JACKWiOD. 
 
 [ACT > 
 
 :6 
 
 Enos. Wal, you said her owner was in New Y prk. 
 
 Dick. What’s that to do with buyin’ her? 
 
 Enos. Why, there’s me an’ Jaclcwood, an’ the"rest. 
 
 Dick. What ’ll you give, for one? 
 
 Enos. Do’no’ — that’s accordin’—I would n’t mind sayiu’a dol* 
 lar, — dollar ’n a quarter — 
 
 Dick. You ’re a fool ! She’s got to go back, just for the fun o ; 
 the thing. 
 
 E nos. Jerusha mighty ! I never thought o’ that. Guess I better 
 get out on’t. — See here ! I’m in suthin’ of a hurry — 
 
 (Shouts without.) 
 
 Dick. Hear ’em yell ! — Whar ’s that Commissioner ? 
 
 Enter Squire Greenwich, c. d. 
 
 Here he comes, at last! Now le’s hurry up ! 
 
 Enos. (r. c.) If you happen to have that eighty dollars about ye 
 — I’m in a good deal of a hurry — 
 
 Dick. You ’re a fool! 
 
 Enos. There’s twice he’s called me a fool ! What ’u’d Tildy say? 
 
 (Shouts without, confusion within.) 
 .Mr. Greenwich. Order in the court ! {Daps on his desk.) Mar¬ 
 shal Dole ! 
 
 O. D. Here ! 
 
 Mr. G. You have procured the person named in your warrant? 
 
 Q. D. She is here, your honor. 
 
 Mr. G. Bring forward the girl Camille. 
 
 Enos. (To Dickson.) If it’s just as convenient to pay me qow, ye 
 know — I’m in a desprit hurry — 
 
 Lawyer. Here are the papers, your honor. The girl’s identity 
 will be sworn to by these men. 
 
 (Mr. Greenwich takes the papers in an agitated manner, and 
 writes.) 
 
 O. D. Be on hand, gentlemen. As soon as the word is given, have 
 your pistols ready. ( Shouts without; tumult at the door.) 
 
 Mr. G. Take the girl. 
 
 Dick. Shoot down the fust man ! 
 
 Enter Hector, c. d., with fury in his looks, and tears his way 
 
 through the guard. 
 
 Camille. (Starts forward, with a wild scream, flinging out her 
 arms towards him.) Hector ! 
 
 Hector. She is mine ! ( Seizes Camille as she is falling, flings 
 
 Dole aside, knocks Dickson down, and bears her to the front of the 
 stage, l. ; holds her upon his bosom with his left arm, and throws up 
 his right with a gesture of triumph and defiance.) Mine ! 
 
 Enter, c. ix, Mr. Jackwood with musket, xIbimelech with pitchforks 
 neighbors with hoes, forks, fyc.; after whom Mrs. Jackwood, 
 Phcebe, Matilda, Mrs. Kigglesty, a?id others. 
 
 Dick, (r., scrambling to his feet.) Marshal ! what are ye about i 
 She is mine, by the laws of the country ! 
 
 Hec. ( Throws him aside.) She is mine, by the one Eternal law 
 
 * 
 
' SCENE VI J 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 71 
 
 O. D. Advance ! 
 
 {As Dickson, Dole, and posse, rush upon Hector, Jackwood md 
 the farmers, with their weapons raised, rush before them.) 
 
 Mr. Jackwood. (c.) Stop that ! 
 
 Hoc. (l.) There is no power to take from me my own ! 
 
 Dick. {Brandishing his pistol.) I call on the marshal to do his 
 duty ! 
 
 Hec. I call upon all to do the duty of men ! Dogs ! bloodhounds ! 
 You mocker of justice, in the. form of a judge ! hear me ! (Mr. Green¬ 
 wich rises up and bends forward, agitated. All eyes are bent upon 
 Hector.) Under an inhuman law, you have hunted down a human 
 soul ! It is recorded ! {Points upward.) As ye have done it unto 
 one of these, ye have done it unto Him ! 
 
 Mr. G. You are resisting the execution of the law. 
 
 Hec. {Takes a paper from his bosom, and extends it to Dole.) 
 Give that to your master ! 0, Camille ’ when we parted, I was 
 
 stunned, insane ! But love restored my reason. I hurried to New 
 York ; I confronted the man who called himself your owner 1 
 
 Mr. G. {Raps on his desk.) This paper stops all proceedings. 
 The girl is free ! 
 
 Cam. 0, Hector ! {Embraces him, sobbing convulsively.) 
 
 All. She is free ! free ! 
 
 Enos. ( To Matilda.) Did n’t I tell ye? Of course she’d be free ! 
 ( To Dickson. ) See here ! Guess I ’ll take that eighty dollars — I’m 
 in suthin’ of a hurry. 
 
 Dick. Fool! — You ’re a pack of cussed fools ! 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Rukely, r. Mr. Greenwich advances c. 
 
 Mr. Rukely. ’Squire Greenwich, your son has committed suicide ! 
 
 Mr. G. My son ! Robert ! 
 
 Mr. R. I was in the jail, attending to my official duties ; I heard 
 the report of a pistol. I hastened to his cell — he had shot himself ! 
 
 Air. G. My son ! my son ! my son ! {Exit, R.) 
 
 Mr. J. Poor old man ! poor old man ! 
 
 O. D. Nothing remains for me, but to dismiss my deputies. 
 
 Mr. J And I should think, Oliver Dole, you would be glad to 
 wash your hands of this business. As for you, Mr. Dickson, go home 
 and tell your folks what ye think of old Vermont, and our New Eng¬ 
 land manners and customs. Then, if ye want my farm, that you was 
 goin’ to have so f’erce, you ’re welcome to come and git it ! Our 
 people believe in law and order ; but, le’ me tell ye, show yer face here 
 agin, and you ’ll find a wus night’s lodgin’ than the top of a hay¬ 
 stack ! 
 
 Enos. See here — about that eighty dollars, if ye an’t in too much 
 ef a hurry — 
 
 Dick. Cuss these Yankee farmers ! 
 
 Abimelech. Ride him on a rail ! 
 
 {Exeunt Dole, Dickson, fyc., c. d., Abimelech flourishing hispiti 
 fork in their rear.) 
 
 Enos. ( To Matilda.) He called me a fool ! 
 
 Matilda. Make him prove it ! 
 
 Enos. Wai, I could do it! 
 
 Jfr. J. Hector Dunbury, you ’re a noble fellow ! 
 
72 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOB, 
 
 ACT V, 
 
 Hec. 0, Mr. Jack wood ! 
 
 Mr. J. You ’ve freed our Charlotte, accordin’ to law ; and that’s 
 the way always to do a good thing, when ye can. And how is our 
 Charlotte gittin’ along ? 
 
 Hec. For her sake, for rny sake, for humanity’s sake, I thank you, 
 Neighbor Jack wood ! We shall never forget wh# was neighbor unto 
 her who fell among thieves ! 
 
 Mr. J. This puts life into ye, don’t it? 
 
 Cam. You may well say life! To be a thing, a chattel, a slave — 
 then to feel for the first time that I can call myself a woman, and in 
 juch an hour to find — 
 
 Mr. J. A father ! ( Gives her his hand.) 
 
 Phoebe. And a sister ! 
 
 Abim. And a brother — don’t forget me ! 
 
 Hec. And a husband, Camille ! 
 
 Cam. O, this is the beginning of life ! 
 
 Grandmother Rigglesty. And a gran’mother ! You know I was 
 allers your best friend ! 
 
 Enos. We ’re kind o’ left out, Tildy. Guess we may as well be 
 goin’ ! 
 
 Mr. J. As for you, Enos Crumlett — 
 
 Enos. 0 ! did you speak ? 
 
 Mr. J. You han’t played the manliest part ever was, in this busi¬ 
 ness— 
 
 Enos. 0 ! I — ye see — I’m in suthin’ of a hurry — 
 
 Mr. J. But you’ve been of sarvice ; pitchin’ that scoundrel put o* 
 the winder was the best thing you ever did in your life. So you shall 
 Stay, and help us give three rousin’ cheers for Freedom — 
 
 Hec. And for Freedom’s true champion — Neighbor Jackwood ! 
 
 All Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 
 
 SITUATIONS 
 
 P5 
 
 & 
 

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 Puffed satin paper, elze 20 inches by 30 inches*, 
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 Shakespearian Medallion, 18 inches in di¬ 
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 french’s (late lacy’s) descriptive list. 
 
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 The above artioles to be had separately. See preceding pages. 
 
PRICE, 15ctS. E A C H. 
 
 NEW PEAYS 
 
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 Bitter Reckoning 
 Eileen Oge 
 Bathing' 
 
 An Old Score 
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 Mao ia Martin 
 Ah ong tlie Iielios 
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 An Old Man 
 Tillage Nightingale 
 Our Nelly 
 Partners for Life 
 Chopstick and Spikins 
 Chiselling 
 
 Birds in their Little Nests 
 Pretty Predicament 
 Seven Sins 
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 Hand and Glove 
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 Parted 
 
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 Q. E. D. 
 
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 My Awful Bad 
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 Word of Honor 
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 Wedding March 
 My Wife’s Father’s Sisto 
 His Novice 
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 Hamlet Improved 
 
 ARTICLES, NEEDED BY AMAfSUBS, 
 
 Surii as at]eaux Lights. Maomesium Tableaux Lifriits- Prepared. Bai 
 bucb as Paints, Ijigntning for Private Tneatricals. 
 
 Guide to Selecting Plays, Hints on Costume, Scenery to fit any Stage. 
 
 Jar ley’s Wax Works, Ethiopian 1 ’ays. Charades, Amateur’s Guide, Guide tc 
 
 tne Stage. 
 
 li^-ZE SAr CA-TiLLOG-TJE SENT PHEI 
 
 PROM 
 
 The Dramatic Publishing Company, 
 Chicago. 
 
 120 page catalogue sent free on application , 
 
■£...*.rt; 
 
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 MHHHBnD 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLIN0I9-URBANA 
 
 2 045788699 
 
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