Chapter V: Act III: (Two years later.) Parlor in GAYLIE GIFFORD'S house (2)

_Mrs. G._ No, no: there must be no violence. I rely upon your discretion. You are both old servants of his, and will not fail to treat him respectfully. It's only a frolic of his young wife, at which he will laugh heartily when it is over. (_Bell rings._) There's the bell. Should it be he, do not open the door.

_Patty._ I will remember.

[_Exit_ R.

_Mrs. G._ Now, then, to rehearse my part in the grand tragedy.
(_Enter_ PATTY R.)

_Patty._ Mr. Cheeny, ma'am. (_Enter_ Mr. CHEENY R.)

_Mrs. G._ Ah, Ralph; welcome!

[_Exit_ PATTY R.

_Ralph_ (_shaking hands_). My dear Mrs. Graylock, this is jolly, to see you in such good spirits. Am I right? You have succeeded? (MRS. G. _shakes her head_.) No?

_Mrs. G._ No, my dear friend; the enemy is still strongly intrenched behind the bulwarks of obstinacy, from which neither smiles, tears, nor reproaches can drive him.

_Ralph._ And the assailing party, discomfited, is about to retire
from the contest?

_Mrs. G._ Never! We have inscribed upon our banners the motto,
"Never say die!"

_Ralph._ Good! You're the best friend a man ever had. But where's
Alice? (_Enter_ ALICE L.)

_Alice._ O Ralph, it's all over! He'll never give his consent.

_Ralph._ Then, my dear Alice, we will do without it. An unexpected turn in business affairs to-day has made me as independent as a nabob. I should have liked your crusty old uncle's blessing; but, as he won't give it, we'll see Parson Clark, say next Tuesday, be married, take a journey to Niagara, and, on our return, settle quietly into married life. What's to hinder?

_Mrs. G._ The crusty old uncle's wife.

_Ralph._ Eh, my clear Mrs. Graylock! A thousand pardons for my levity. He is crusty, you are lovely. "In contrasts lieth love's delight," you know. You will place no bar to our union.

_Mrs. G._ Stop. We have begun a battle: let's fight it out. If Alice marries without her _crusty_ old uncle's consent, where's her fortune?

_Ralph._ Her fortune? I never knew she had one. "Her face is her
fortune."

_Mrs. G._ With ten thousand dollars with which to buy mirrors to
see it in if she please.

_Alice._ Why, Aunt Susy! I never heard of it.

_Mrs. G._ Nor I. But it's true, for I've seen the papers. 'Twas left you by your father, to be paid when you should marry with Mr. Graylock's consent.

_Ralph._ Why, this is charming!

_Alice._ Do you think you like me any better, Ralph?

_Ralph._ Ten thousand times! That is, you understand, I'm not
mercenary; but you deserve it, you're such a dear, sweet, nice—

_Mrs. G._ Attention, company! Business! I am going to gain his
consent. Ralph, sit at that table, and write, if you please.

_Ralph_ (_sits at table_; ALICE _leans on his chair_; MRS. G.
_stands_ L. _of table_). Yes; proceed.

_Mrs. G._ "I, Simon Graylock, being in sound mind and body"—(_Bell
rings._) Hark! that's he. Don't mind. Write.

_Ralph._ "Sound mind and body."

_Mrs. G._ "Hereby bequeath to my dearly-beloved friend, Ralph
Cheeny"—(_Bell rings violently._)

_Ralph._ "Beloved friend, Ralph Cheeny." Go on.

_Mrs. G._ "My affectionate niece, Alice Chase"—(_Bell rings
violently._)

_Ralph._ "Alice Chase:" that's you, Ally. Go on.

_Mrs. G._ "To have and to hold, as his lawful wife, from this day forth and forevermore. And to this union I give my consent, and subscribe my name." That's all. He has stopped ringing. (_Dog barks._)

_Mr. G._ (_outside_). Hero, Hero, old boy, don't you know your
master? (_Dog barks. Shouting._)

_Mrs. G._ He's getting into the garden: he will soon be here. We
must retire.

_Ralph._ But what is it all about?

_Mrs. G._ Ask no questions. Let me arrange that paper. I will turn the writing underneath, leaving a blank space for his signature. (_Dog barks._)

_Mr. G._ Clear out, you brute! There goes my coat! Murder! help!

_Ralph._ Shall I run to his assistance?

_Mrs. G._ Not for the world! Come this way. I will explain all. [_Exeunt_ R. _Then enter, hurriedly_, L., MR. G., _his hair and beard dyed black, one coat-tail, torn off, in his hand_.]

_Mr. G._ Confound that dog! He has decidedly curtailed my enjoyment. (_Holds up coat-tail._) Is it possible I am so transformed as to become a terror to my own terrier? Where is everybody? Doors locked, windows fastened, and nobody to let me into my own house! A pretty state of affairs, truly! No matter: I have gained an entrance, and now for a good surprise. (_Takes hand-mirror from table._) What a change! The Simon Graylock of twenty-five takes the place of the Simon Graylock of fifty. Glorious! Won't I make a sensation? I can see my wife's look of astonishment and pleasure. I can hear her rapturous "O Simon, you beauty!" Eh? what's that? (_Turns to_ L., _as_ JOHN BOUNCE _enters, locks the door, and stands with his rifle at_ "_present_.") Well, what's the matter? Eh! what's that? (_Turns_ R., _as_ PATTY _enters, locks the door, and stands with a broom at_ "_present_.") What's the meaning of this?

_Bounce._ Silence! Not _h_a sound! not _h_a, step! Sh—!

_Patty._ Silence! Not a look! not a breath! Sh—!

_Patty and John_ (_together_). If you move, if you speak,
you are a dead man. Sh—!

_Mr. G._ Why, John! Patty! you idiots! don't you know your master?

_Patty and John_ (_together_). Master! you! Ha, ha, ha!

_Mr. G._ Now stop that duet, or out of this house you go without
warning. Unlock those doors, and call your mistress.

_Bounce._ Call the police. _H_i know you? You're _h_a burglar, _h_a
thief! But we're wide _h_awake. You're caught.

_Patty._ Yes, Mr. Jack Sheppard, your foot's in the trap. You've lost your coat-tails, but that's nothing to the loss of your liberty: ten years in prison.

_Mr. G._ Am I awake? John Bounce, who's your master?

_Bounce._ Simon Graylock, _H_esquire, _h_a respectable, middle-_h_aged gent, rather plain _h_in 'is _h_external _h_appearance, but with _h_an 'art _h_as big _h_as an _h_ox.

_Patty._ Yes, Mr. Burglar, as nice an old gentleman as you ever
met.

_Mr. G._ Am not I that gentleman?

_Patty._ You! Nonsense!

_Bounce._ You! _H_absurd! Why, you look like what you _h_are,—_h_a
regular 'ousebreaker.

_Mr. G._ I'll break your head if you call me that name again. I am master of this house; and as such I order you instantly to unlock those doors, and call your mistress.

_Patty._ What impudence!

_Bounce._ _H_and what _h_assurance!

_Mr. G._ (_approaching_ PATTY). Young woman, out of my way!

_Patty_ (_points broom at him_). Help! murder! thieves!

_Bounce_ (_points rifle at him_). 'Ere, you, none er that! Lay _h_a finger _h_on that young woman, _h_and I'll fire. (MR. G. _backs up stage; they follow with their weapons pointed at him_.)

_Mr. G._ Confound it! this is ridiculous! Go away. (_Gets up into
chair._)

_Bounce._ Wretched _h_outcast, would you lift your 'and _h_against
_h_a woman? Would you—

_Mr. G._ Put down that gun.

_Bounce._ Never! You _h_ex_h_asperate the British lion; you
_h_insult the _h_object of my 'art's _h_adoration; you—you—you—

_Mr. G._ Put down that gun. It might go off.

_Bounce._ _H_it might; but you can't.—Patty, _h_i'll put _h_an
_h_end to 'is miserable _h_existence.

_Patty._ No; leave him to the officer of justice.

_Bounce._ _H_i can't. 'E 'as _h_insulted you, _h_and _h_i must 'ave
blood, blood, blood!

_Mr. G._ Put down that gun! Here, Sue! Susan! Susannah! Help!
help! help! (_Knock at door_, L.)

_Mrs. G._ (_outside_). Open the door, Patty. (PATTY _unlocks the door_, R. MRS. G., ALICE, _and_ RALPH _enter, stand huddled by the door_.) Have you got him?

_Mr. G._ Got him! And she the wife of my bosom! Susy!

_Bounce._ Silence! (_Threatens with gun._)

_Mr. G._ Susan!

_Patty._ Silence! (_Flourishes broom._)

_Mr. G._ Susannah!

_Mrs. G._ Why, the wretch knows my name!

_Mr. G._ Of course he does. 'Tis I, your own true, loving husband,
Simon Graylock.

_Ralph._ Egad, the rascal has assurance!

_Mrs. G._ Did you ever?

_Alice._ No, I never.

_Mr. G._ (_coming forward_). Oh, come! this is all nonsense, you
know. You're not going to cut me off, are you? I am your husband.

_Mrs. G._ My husband! Why, he's old enough to be your father.

_Mr. G._ (_aside_). There's a "puff" for "The Magic Dye."
(_Aloud._) You don't know me. Am I, then, so changed?

_Mrs. G._ You look like a burglar.

_Ralph._ What a thievish look there is about his mouth!

_Alice._ And such cunning eyes! Oh, do, Aunt Susy, let John call
the police, and have him taken away!

_Mr. G._ It's only the effects of the dye, you know. I've had my hair and whiskers colored. Gives me quite a juvenile look; quite the dandy, eh?

_Ralph._ Oh! come, sir, this won't do. You have entered this house in search of plunder. Your attempt has been foiled by the keenness of this lady, who, in the absence of her husband, can well protect his treasures.

_Mrs. G._ John, call the police.

_Mr. G._ John, if you do, I'll discharge you without a character.—Susannah, be reasonable. If you don't know me, you must know these clothes. Are they not your husband's?

_Mrs. G._ My husband's? Gracious heaven! I see it all! My husband has been murdered, cruelly murdered! and you have stolen his clothing. Oh, wretched woman that I am!—John, call the police.

_Mr. G._ And I say, no. Confound it! Do you want to drive me out
of my senses?

_Mrs. G._ Oh, take me away! My life's in danger. Oh, somebody take
me away!

_Ralph._ Fear not, madam. I will protect you. If your husband has gone, you shall find in me a watchful guardian and a trusty friend. Fear not: the miscreant shall not harm you.

_Mr. G._ Confound his impudence! O Susy! what can I do to make you
own me? I think I am your husband; in fact, I'm quite sure of it.

_Mrs. G._ Can you write?

_Mr. G._ Write? I signed a check for two hundred dollars, which
you now have in your porte-monnaie.

_Mrs. G._ Can you write your name?

_Mr. G._ To be sure I can.

_Mrs. G._ Then write it. I shall recognize my husband's handwriting, I think; yes, I'm quite sure of it. Write at once: there are pen, ink, and paper.

_Mr. G._ I'll be hanged if I do any such thing! This is absurd,
ridiculous!

_Mrs. G._ John, call the police.

_Bounce._ _H_instantly, missus.

_Mr. G._ Stop! I'll write. (_Goes to table_, C.) If ever I'm
caught in such a ridiculous position as this, may I be—

_Mrs. G._ (_goes to table_). Here! write your name there.

_Mr. G._ (_sits, takes up pen, then looks up at_ MRS. G., _who stands immovable_). And that's the wife of my bosom, the partner of my joys! and I've got to write my name before—No! I'll be hanged if I do! (_Throws down pen._)

_Mrs. G._ John, the police.

_Bounce._ _H_instantly, missus. (JOHN _and_ PATTY L., FRANK _and_
ALICE R.)

_Mr. G._ No, no: I'll sign! (_Writes._)

_Mrs. G._ (_takes up paper_). What do I see? 'Tis he, my husband, my Simon! (_Throws her arms about his neck, and repeatedly embraces him in a frantic manner._)

_Ralph._ What do I hear? 'Tis he, your uncle, my Alice!
(_Embraces_ ALICE.)

_Bounce._ _H_it's _h_all _h_up. 'Tis 'e 'imself, Patty. (_Embraces_
PATTY.)

_Patty._ Let me alone, you exasperating Englishman! (_Releases
herself._)

_Mr. G._ Confound it! Susy, don't smother me!

_Mrs. G._ O Simon! something's burning! I smell brimstone!

_Mr. G._ Smell fiddlesticks! It's "The Magic Dye." It makes me sick: I wish I was well rid of it. And now be kind enough to tell me the meaning of this. I've been locked out of my house, my clothes lacerated by my dog, been threatened with death by my servant, with the police by my wife; and am threatened with a brain-fever, if I don't know what all this is for.

_Mrs. G._ For the third reason, Simon.

_Mr. G._ Eh? You're not going to bring up that subject again?

_Mrs. G._ Oh, no! that's all settled.

_Mr. G._ Settled? How?

_Mrs. G._ (_takes paper from table, and reads_). "I, Simon Graylock, being in sound mind and body, hereby bequeath to my dearly beloved friend Ralph Cheeny, my affectionate niece Alice Chase, to have and to hold, as his lawful wife, from this day forth and forevermore; and to this union I give my consent, and subscribe my name." Signed, "Simon Graylock."

_Mr. G._ Why, this is a swindle! Obtaining goods under false pretences! And you, the wife of my bosom, the partner—Do you know what this would cost me, were it known?

_Mrs. G._ Yes; ten thousand dollars: Alice's portion.

_Ralph._ Of which she is in no immediate want; in fact, I think I
would prefer to leave it in your hands.

_Mr. G._ My dearly beloved, take her, and be happy. When I die,
you will find I have not forgotten you.

_Mrs. G._ As did the partner of your joys, the last time you dyed;
eh, Simon?

_Mr. G._ My dear, let's change the subject.

_Mrs. G._ If we could only change the color of your hair as easily!
Why, Simon, it's purple!

_Mr. G._ Is it? Then don't look at it, don't speak of it; for, if
you're not pleased, I have dyed in vain.

_Mrs. G._ No: for it has helped to make two people happy who were dying for each other, helped your dear wife to triumph in a good cause, and helped us all to a little amusement—

_Mr. G._ At my expense. Sue, Susan, Susannah, let's change the
subject. Never say die, and I never will.

JOHN BOUNCE _and_ PATTY, R. MR. _and_ MRS. G., C.
RALPH _and_ ALICE, L. _Curtain._

THE CHAMPION OF HER SEX.
]

THE CHAMPION OF HER SEX.

(FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY.)

CHARACTERS.

MRS. DUPLEX, a widow with money and a mission.
MRS. DEBORAH HARTSHORN, her mother.
FLORENCE DUPLEX, her daughter.
CAROLINE DUPLEX, her step-daughter.
RHODA DENDRON, │ her friends.
POLLIE NAY, │
KATIE O'NAIL, the cook.
MAGGIE DONOVAN, the chambermaid.

COSTUMES MODERN AND APPROPRIATE.

SCENE.—_Apartment in_ MRS. DUPLEX'S _house. Lounge_, L.; _two
chairs_, R.; _table with writing-materials, and an easy-chair_, C.

_Mrs. H._ (_outside_, R.) Don't tell me, yeou imperdent thing!
Clear out, I tell yeou!

_Maggie_ (_outside_, R.) Faix! not for the likes av yez, at all,
at all.

_Mrs. H._ (_outside_, R.). Yeou won't, hay? We'll see about it.
(_Enter_ MAGGIE, R., _followed by_ MRS. H., _brandishing a broom_.)

_Maggie._ Aisy, Mrs. Hartshorn, or it's yersilf will be sent to
coort for salt and bathery, sure.

_Mrs. H._ Don't care! If I'm sent to prison for life, I mean to
have my orders obeyed.

_Maggie._ Faix, an' it's not yersilf is the lady of the house, at
all, at all.

_Mrs. H._ Don't make no difference. Yeou take that broom, and sweep
out my room, and be quick about it!

_Maggie._ It's warning I'll give to onct the misthress cooms, Mrs. Hartshorn. Faix! there's a power of work in the house, and a heap of misthresses to order about—bad luck to 'em! Niver mind, I'll swape the room; an', if ye find any thing broke, it's not the fault av Maggie Donovan. (_Aside._) Only jist I'll—I'll have one good crack at her chiny vases, so I will.

[_Exit_ L.

_Mrs. H._ (_sits in chair_, C., _takes out her smelling-bottle, removes stopper, places her finger over it, and applies it to her nose, snuffs it, gives a little start, with something between a sigh and an exclamation, sounding like "Kee," accompanying it. This should be repeated wherever the word appears in the dialogue_). Well! if Hannah Merria's heouse ain't a-going to eternal smash, it's not for want er help. Sich actions I never did see. There's that ere cook! If I stick my head into the kitchen (kee), I'm sure to be saluted with the dishcloth; and, if I go up stairs, there's always a broom laying round loose for me to tumble over (kee). For the land of liberty's sake, what's the use of having a home if you don't take care of it? Neow, here's Hannah Merria, whose husband died a year ago, leaving all his property to her, his second wife, and who ought to be the happiest woman in the world in consequence (kee),—not of his death, but the money,—a-prancin' round in perlitical circuses, ravin' like a lunatic about "speers," and "rights," and "sufferings," and leaving her home to take care of itself. She's the queerest young 'un I ever had (kee). (_Enter_ CAROLINE, R.)

_Caroline._ What's the trouble, grandmother?

_Mrs. H._ Oh, it's them hired gals, Ca'line. They've made me crazy with their shiftlessness. I do think Hannah Merria might stay at home, and look arter them.

_Caroline._ My good step-mother has other affairs to occupy her time.
You know she is one of the leaders of the Female Reform Club.

_Mrs. H._ Then she'd better bring her club home, and trounce these
sassy critters into some kind of reform (kee).

_Caroline._ She thinks she is engaged in a noble work. She is the
champion of her sex.

_Mrs. H._ Champion fiddlesticks! There's no sense in such carryings-on. What would my old man, Hezekiah Hartshorn (kee)—bless his dear dead and gone memory—have thought if I'd 'a' gone off in this fashion, a meddlin' with things that women don't know nothin' about? When he took me for better or for wus, sez he to me, "Deborah, there's the old homestid,—a snug house and a likely farm,—all ours. Yeou take kere of the house, and I'll take kere of the farm. Outside I'll be master, inside you shall be mistress; and we won't interfere." That's all the bargain we ever made, and we stuck to it. I took good care to make his home pleasant; but meddlin' with his affairs would have ben as rediculous as it would have ben for him to stick his nose into the churn every time I made butter. No, indeed! Let woman do her own work, and leave man to his'n.

_Caroline._ Ah, grandmother, the world has turned over a great many times since your day. Women have acquired larger ideas of usefulness, and have found in intellectual pursuits release from household drudgery. Triumphs in medical practice, and success in the pulpit, have fired them with ambition to take their place beside the sterner sex in those educational, scientific, and political spheres, for which they feel themselves equally well fitted.

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.) Do hear that young 'un talk; and she don't believe
a word of it, nuther.

_Caroline._ But my good step-mother does; and, if she can elevate her
sex, she is doing a noble work.

_Mrs. H._ Noble cat's foot! If she wants to elervate her sex, as she calls it, let her stay to home, and look after things. If that Katie don't want elervating with a broomstick, then I'm mistaken (kee). Why don't she give you a eddication, instead of keeping you drudging about the house, when you should be at school with Florence? She's got your father's money, and that's all she keres for (kee).

_Caroline._ I am contented, grandmother. I make no complaint.

_Mrs. H._ 'Cause you're meek as Moses. But I'll give her a piece of
my mind, you see ef I don't.

_Caroline._ Don't get angry, grandmother. To-day Florence returns after six months' absence at school. Let her find every thing bright and pleasant.

_Mrs. H._ Lor-a-massy! So she does. Well, I'm glad on it. Ef she don't upset things, then I'm greatly mistaken. (_Bell rings_, R.) She's a dear good girl.

_Caroline._ Indeed she is, and deserves all the care and affection bestowed upon her. (_Enter_ KATIE, R., _with a scrubbing-brush in her hand_.)

_Katie._ She's coom, ma'am, she's coom, as rosy and bright as a
new copper tay-kettle.

_Caroline._ Who? Florence?

_Katie._ Indade, it's the truth ye's spakin'; her own swate silf,
Miss Ca'line.

_Caroline._ Glorious news! I must run to her at once. Come,
grandmother.

[_Exit_, R.

_Mrs. H._ Bless the child! I must go and fix her somethin' warm.

_Katie._ Somethin' warm, is it? Faix, jist kape out av the
kitchen, d'ye mind, or it's yersilf will git somethin' warm.

_Mrs. H._ Wal, I never! The airs that these critters do put on
(kee)!

[_Exit_, R.

_Katie._ Faix, the ould woman's a sore thrial, that she is. There's little chance to kape my sisther Bridget's children in sugar and tay, wid her middlin'. (_Enter_ MAGGIE, L., _with a broom_.)

_Maggie._ An' it's mesilf would likes to know what ye mane by demaining yersilf in this fashion, Kate O'Nail. It's little yez know of itikate.

_Katie._ Och, be aisy wid yer spakin', Maggie Donovan. Itikate,
indade!

_Maggie._ Isn't it me privilege to tend the bell, I'd like to know?

_Katie._ To be sure it is. But 'twas the darling Miss Florence rowled up to the door; and would I be afther lavin' her on the stips, an' you in the attic?

_Maggie._ It's a desateful tongue ye have. Don't I know ye'd be afther liftin' yersilf above yer pots and kittles to my place, to betther yer condition?

_Katie._ Betther my condition, is it? Wid what? Swapin' and dustin', and the likes? Niver, at all, at all. When I betther my condition, 'twill be as the widded bride of Terence McFunnigafferty.

_Maggie._ McFunnigafferty! Bad luck to him! he's only a
hod-carrier.

_Katie._ He's dacent and respictable; an' it's my belafe, Maggie Donovan, ye'd be glad av me chance. Haven't I seen ye castin' sly looks that way yersilf?

_Maggie._ Oh, murther! An', an' me own b'y, Teddy Murphy, sailin'
the thrackless say—

_Katie._ Wid a swateheart in ivery port.

_Maggie._ Och! it's invious ye are, Kate O'Nail; an' it's out av place ye are above the kitchen shtair. Away wid yez to yer pots and kittles! (_Threatening with broom._)

_Katie._ An' its out av place ye are onywhere. Be off to yer
swapin'! (_Threatens with brush. Enter_ FLORENCE _and_ CAROLINE, R.)

_Florence._ Fie, fie, girls! You're both out of place, quarrelling.
Ah, Maggie! I'm glad to meet you again. (_Shakes hands with Maggie._)

_Maggie._ Thank you, Miss Florence. An' it's a warm welcome home to
yez; an' it's glad I am to see yer own bright face once more.

_Florence._ And it's glad I am to be here, Maggie. Now I want you and Katie to get my trunk up stairs. It's not very heavy, and I wish to open it at once.

"Take it up tenderly,
Fashioned so slenderly,
It's fickle and frail."

_Maggie._ Indade, Miss Florence, I'll do my best with the help of
very rough company.

[_Exit_, R.

_Katie._ Thar's a fling at me! Arrah, I'll give her one thump on
the fut with the thrunk.

[_Exit_, R.

_Caroline._ Welcome, welcome, welcome home! A thousand times welcome,
Florence! Oh! we have missed you very much. (_They sit on lounge_, L.)

_Florence._ I'm glad of that, Carrie, for you will be so glad to see me now that I can have my own way in every thing; and I'm going to spend my time advantageously. I'm going to induce mother to send you with me when I return to school.

_Caroline._ Oh, that would be grand! But I fear you will not succeed.

_Florence._ But I will. You have as much right to the advantages of Rushly Seminary as I; and I will no longer allow you to submit to the cruel treatment you are receiving. You go with me: that's settled. But where's mother?

_Caroline._ At a committee-meeting.

_Florence._ A committee-meeting at eleven o'clock in the forenoon!
What important project can take her from home at this hour?

_Caroline._ She is one of the leaders of the Female Reform Club.

_Florence._ What! my mother! You don't mean to say that she has come
out for women's rights!

_Caroline._ She has, most decidedly. She gives all her time to the
club. She is a very zealous member.

_Florence._ And who takes care of the house?

_Caroline._ It takes care of itself. The mistress away, it is very hard for me to govern affairs; and grandmother does much harm by her kindly-meant interference in household matters.

_Florence._ It's too bad! Does mother speak at public meetings?

_Caroline._ She spoke for the first time last night. There's a report
of her speech in the papers. (_Takes paper from table._) Here it is.

_Florence_ (_reads_). "Mrs. Duplex, widow of the celebrated match-manufacturer, whose decease last winter was chronicled in our paper, arose and spoke warmly of the oppression of the female sex. She vehemently asserted their ability to achieve success in any path trodden by man, and eloquently styled herself the champion of her sex in its endeavors to throw off the yoke of bondage, and victoriously array itself by the side of man in his onward march of progress." What nonsense!

_Caroline._ Nonsense, Florence? Then you are not in sympathy with the
woman movement.

_Florence._ Yes, Carrie: I am an earnest advocate for reform. Noble women are doing brave work in _educating_ our sex to a realizing sense of their power for good in many of the walks of life heretofore kept sacred to the foot of man. But foolish women, who raise the cry of oppression or slavery, are no better than the political demagogues of the other sex,—loud in speech, but dumb in council.

_Caroline._ And so you think mother has made a mistake?

_Florence._ I certainly do. A woman's duty is to care for her household. From what little I have seen since I came home, I am convinced reform is needed here. (_Bell rings_, R.) If she would elevate her sex, I'm sure she could have no better task than to fit you—who were left penniless on her hands by a thoughtless father—for the station to which you have a right to aspire. (_Enter_ MAGGIE, R.)

_Maggie._ If ye plase, Miss Florence, yez frinds, the Misses Nay
and Dendron, are below, axin' for yez.

_Florence._ Show them up, Maggie. (_Exit_ MAGGIE, R.) I must find
some way to rid mother of her delusion.

_Caroline._ I wish you could, Floy, for it is certainly very disagreeable for us who are left at home. (RHODA _and_ POLLIE _appear_, R.)

_Rhoda._ May we come in?

_Florence_ (_jumping up_). To be sure you may. Rhoda, you dear, dear
girl! (_Kissing her._) Pollie, I'm glad to see you! (_Kissing_ POLLIE.)

_Rhoda._ Saw you come up, and couldn't wait a minute longer; could
we, Pollie?

_Pollie._ No, indeed. We just dropped every thing, and ran across.
How d'ye do?

_Rhoda._ Yes; how are ye? Tell us, quick!

_Pollie._ Had a splendid time, hey?

_Rhoda._ Not engaged, are you?

_Pollie._ What you got new for dresses? Why, there's Carrie!
(_Shakes hands, and kisses._)

_Rhoda._ Well, I declare, Miss Meekness! you are as still as a
mouse. (_Shakes hands, and kisses._)

_Caroline._ She's here, girls, and just as splendid as ever.

_Rhoda and Pollie_ (_together_). Splendid? Of course she is.

_Florence._ Come, come, girls; sit down and tell me the news. (CAROLINE _and_ RHODA _sit on lounge_, L.; POLLIE _in chair_, R.; FLORENCE _in chair_, C.) I'm dying to know what has been going on since I left.

_Pollie._ Well, then, Tilly Dodd's really married.

_Rhoda._ Pooh! that's an old story. She's talking about getting
divorced now.

_Pollie._ Divorced! Why, she's only been married six months!

_Rhoda._ Six months and ten days. No matter about her. Have you
read your mother's speech?

_Florence._ I read a brief notice of it.

_Rhoda._ I heard it all. She's the champion of her sex. Oh, it was grand! She flourished her right hand as majestically as any orator I ever heard; and her voice was as strong and clear as Patrick Henry's.

_Pollie._ Lor, Rhoda, you never heard Patrick Henry.

_Rhoda._ But I've read his speeches, and they've got the ring of
his voice in them yet. Ain't you proud of your mother, Flory?

_Florence._ Not of her last effort, Rhoda.

_Pollie._ That's where you're right, Floy. I wouldn't like to have
my mother spouting in that manner. It looks coarse and unladylike.

_Rhoda._ Well, I don't think I should like to have my mother take
to that kind of business.

_Florence._ I like it so little, girls, that I am determined to give mother a lesson, if you will grant me your assistance. Our principal, Miss Steady, had an attack of "woman's rights" at school last winter; and the girls took advantage of it to indulge in a little masquerading, which so affected our honored head, that we heard no more of woman's rights for the balance of the term. I shouldn't wonder if something of the kind would make mother a little less zealous in the cause.

_Rhoda._ Oh, tell us all about it!

_Pollie._ Is there any fun in it?

_Florence._ You shall see. Come to my room. Mother may return at any
moment, and I do not wish her to see us at present.

_Pollie._ There's something delightfully mysterious in your
proceedings, Floy.

_Rhoda._ Yes: there's mischief in your eyes.

_Florence._ Perhaps; time will show. Come, I want you too, Carrie.
[_Exeunt_, R., FLORENCE, RHODA, _and_ POLLIE.]

_Caroline._ Take me with her! I wish she could. I love Floy too well to envy her. But the privileges she enjoys, and to which I feel I am entitled, would afford me those opportunities for culture for which I have often sighed. (_Enter_ MRS. DUPLEX.)

_Mrs. D._ Caroline, I am astonished! You sitting here with your arms folded, and the house in disorder! Is this a fitting return for my care? or have you forgotten that to me you owe all you have in the world?

_Caroline._ You never allow me to forget that, madam. Yet I am grateful for your care. Add one favor more, and let me go into the world, and earn my living.

_Mrs. D._ Indeed! As you are anxious to earn a living, perhaps it
would be as well to commence at home.

_Caroline._ This life is distasteful—

_Mrs. D._ There, that's quite enough. I have very important business to engage my attention. Set the reception-room in order at once. (_Takes off bonnet and shawl, and sits in easy-chair near table._)

_Caroline._ Certainly, madam.

[_Exit_, R.

_Mrs. D._ My late lamented husband left me one useless incumbrance,—that girl. Strange some people are so hard to manage! Now, then, to business. I've a long report to make to-night on the "Scheme for Improving the Condition of Motherless Girls." (_Enter_ MRS. HARTSHORN, R.)

_Mrs. H._ Lor, sakes, Hannah Merria! You home?

_Mrs. D._ Yes, mother, and hard at work.

_Mrs. H._ (_sitting on lounge, and knitting_). Du tell!

_Mrs. D._ Yes, mother. There's a wide field of labor opening to willing hands. To raise woman from her lowly position, is not that most noble work?

_Mrs. H._ That depends on what she's doing, Hannah Merria. If she's
scrubbing the floor (kee), the lower the better.

_Mrs. D._ She was never meant for such ignoble toil.

_Mrs. H._ Ignoble fiddlesticks! P'r'aps you want the men-folks to
do that.

_Mrs. D._ It may be necessary for the triumph of woman. Did you
read my speech, mother?

_Mrs. H._ No, I didn't. I've _heard_ enough on 'em to be heartily
sick. A pretty champion of your sex, you are!

_Mrs. D._ I hope I am an earnest and an honest one. I have a mission,—to lift woman to a higher plane of civilization; and I believe I have the power to fulfil it.

_Mrs. H._ How? By getting up and speaking out in meeting? Never heard nothin' like it since Sally Skreecher j'ined the Millerites, and hollered so in meetin', that they thought the Angel Gabriel was a-tootin' his horn (kee.)

_Mrs. D._ Ah, mother! you do not understand this noble movement of
woman.

_Mrs. H._ I understand washin' and ironin', and that's what I call
the noblest movement woman ever took a hand in.

_Mrs. D._ There; that's quite enough: we shall never agree. Be
quiet, and let me write.

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.)

_Mrs. D._ (_writes_). "Silently, but steadily, moves on the mighty
car of progress"—

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.)

_Mrs. D._ "Crushing, beneath its fast revolving wheels, prejudice and wrong; upward soars the spirit of freedom, mounting on eagles' wings."

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.) Say goose's wings, Hannah Merria.

_Mrs. D._ Mother, will you be silent?

_Mrs. H._ And hear you talk that bosh? Why, every Fourth-of-July speaker has said them things year after year since Cornwallis surrendered. (_Enter RHODA, R., disguised; a black shawl pinned tightly across her breast; faded black bonnet with bright flowers stuck in it; large, black cotton gloves, much too long in the fingers, on her hands; and parasol._)

_Rhoda_ (_very extravagant in her gestures_). Where is she? Let me look upon her, the deliverer of our race, the champion of our sex! Ah, she's here! the noble face, the stately figger! 'Tis she! 'tis she! (_Falls at the feet of_ MRS. D.)

_Mrs. H._ Land er Goshen! that's Hannah Dudley!

_Mrs. D._ My good woman, can I be of service to you?

_Rhoda_ (_rises_). You can, you can. I am the mother of nine interesting children, whom I have vainly endeavored to support for five years by the manufacture of molasses-candy. A sweet occupation, but, alas! not profitable; for, work as I will, I can make but just enough to satisfy the wants of my children. 'Tis all they have for food.

_Mrs. H._ Well, they're a sweet set.

_Mrs. D._ My good woman, why do you come to me?

_Rhoda._ I come to sit at your feet; to draw into my thirsty soul the teachings of your stupendous intellect. Glorious champion of my sex, I would wrest from proud man one of his boasted prerogatives.

_Mrs. D._ Indeed! To what sphere of usefulness do you aspire?

_Mrs. H._ She's ravin' about paregoric. She ought to be a doctor.

_Rhoda._ I heard your glorious speech last night, and every fibre of my being thrilled beneath the touch of your matchless eloquence. You told us we had the ability to achieve success in any occupation where man could triumph. I want to be a butcher.

_Mrs. H._ Heavens and airth! the woman's loony!

_Rhoda._ Yes, a butcher; that I may give my children strong food, for which they hanker. Ah, the mighty butcher! the crafty butcher! the skilful butcher! I have gazed upon him with admiration. With what power he fells the mighty oxen and—and—things! How skilfully he sends to "green fields and pastures new" the sportive lambs! With what grace he seizes the portly hog, and, regardless of its piteous cries, ends its devouring life! Oh, glorious champion of our sex, teach me to excel in this great branch of usefulness, and fill the mouths of my babes!

_Mrs. D._ Woman, have you escaped from a lunatic asylum?

_Mrs. H._ Lor, Hannah Merria, she's 'sterricky.

_Mrs. D._ The poor woman's mad.

_Rhoda._ Mad? Then 'tis you who have made me so. You promise, and do not fulfil. Make me a butcher, or I will proclaim you a traitor to our cause, from the market-place, in the council-hall, from the house-tops. Champion of the sex! Bah! Give my children beef, pork, mutton, or "get you to a nunnery," quick.

[_Exit_, R.

_Mrs. D._ Poor woman, poor woman!

_Mrs. H._ Nothin' but skin and bones (kee). This all comes of political circuses. O Hannah Merria! the millinariam won't come any sooner for all yer speechifyin'. Better stay to home. Lor sakes! who's this? (_Enter_ POLLIE, _disguised. Old-fashioned straw bonnet, bright ribbons; faded shawl of bright patterns; white cotton gloves, very large, upon hands._)

_Pollie._ W-w-where is she,—the ch-ch-champion of our s-s-s-s-sex?

_Mrs. D._ What do you wish, good woman?

_Pollie._ 'T-t-tis she: I know th-th-th-that v-v-voice! D-d-dear Mrs. D-D-Duplex, last night you m-m-moved me with the f-f-f-force of your el-l-l-oquence. I have long b-b-blushed at our de-p-p-p-pendent situation: I have thrown off the c-ch-chain, and stand p-p-prepared to wrest from man one of his pr-p-proud p-p-p-p-prerogatives.

_Mrs. H._ There's an awful waste of paregoric there.

_Mrs. D._ And pray, my good woman, to what new field of labor do
you aspire?

_Pollie._ B-b-before I heard your v-voice, I listened to one that charmed my f-f-f-fancy. M-m-make me like him, and I will b-b-bless you. I would be an auc-sh-sh-shuneer.

_Mrs. D._ An auctioneer! do you want to insult me?

_Pollie._ Insult you, the ch-ch-champion of our s-s-s-sex? N-n-never! B-b-but an auc-sh-sh-shuneer I must be. G-g-going, g-g-going, g-g-gone. Oh, it's splendid! How much am I offered? St-st-stove, t-t-table, ch-chair, in one l-l-lot. H-h-how much? G-g-going, g-going—

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.)

_Pollie._ G-g-gone! Thank you, marm.

_Mrs. D._ Woman, leave this house at once!

_Pollie._ What f-f-for? Ain't you the ch-ch-champion of our s-s-sex? D-d-didn't you s-s-say we were f-f-f-fitted to t-t-take the place of m-m-man? and ain't I g-g-going to be an auc-sh-shuneer, hey?

_Mrs. D._ You are fit for nothing but the workhouse. Instantly
leave this room, or I will have you driven into the street.

_Pollie._ Ch-ch-champion of our s-s-sex! P-p-pooh! You're an imp-p-postor: you d-d-deceive us with your sp-p-peeches. If you don't make me an auc-sh-sh-shuneer, I'll d-denounce you,—yes, I will, now, at once. I'm g-g-going, g-g-going, g-gone.

[_Exit_, R.

_Mrs. D._ Was there ever any thing so provoking? It's the work of
our enemies.

_Mrs. H._ No, 'tain't, Hannah: it's a nat'ral impediment.

_Mrs. D._ Mother, shut up!

_Mrs. H._ Wal, I never! Is that the way you honor your parent?
(Kee.)

_Mrs. D._ It seems I am to be made a laughing-stock for my speech.
Could I have been too hasty? (_Enter_ FLORENCE, R.)

_Mrs. D._ Goodness, child! you home again? (_Rises._)

_Florence_ (_tragically_). Stop! Approach me not. Busy rumor, with its thousand tongues, says, last night you asserted, in a crowded assembly, that woman could achieve success in any path trodden by man. I come to you for truth. Speak, mother! did you speak those words? is rumor true?

_Mrs. D._ I did say so, _Florence._

_Florence_ (_lightly_). Then, my good mother, you will be delighted to hear that your daughter has chosen the profession in which she hopes to win fame. I want to be a lawyer.

_Mrs. H._ Lor sakes!

_Mrs. D._ Florence, you are trifling with a serious matter.

_Florence._ Yes, 'tis a serious matter. But I feel that in that profession I can win success. "Gentlemen of the jury, I stand before you to plead the cause of a young girl, who needs all your sympathy. She was the idol of fond parents; but, alas! her mother died: her father took to his side a second bride, and she was neglected. Not content with this, on his death-bed the father cut her off from any share of his wealth, and left to the mercy of her step-mother."

_Mrs. D._ Florence, what means this?

_Florence._ "Gentlemen of the jury, can you ask? Beneath this roof is one who is entitled to all the benefits of wealth and education; but she is made a drudge: while she who should rear her tenderly sees not the oppressed in her own home, but seeks abroad that labor for the improvement of the condition of motherless girls which should be commenced beneath her own roof."

_Mrs. D._ Florence, are you serious, or are you crazy?

_Mrs. H._ Not a bit of it, Hannah Merria (kee).

_Florence._ Only practising, mother. (_Enter_ RHODA, R.)

_Rhoda._ Mrs. Duplex, champion of our sex, I want to be an actor!

_Mrs. D._ An actress, you mean.

_Rhoda._ No, an actor. Richard the Third, Richelieu, Macbeth, are the characters I would play. They are manly. If man can excel in them, so can woman. Have you not said we could win success—

_Mrs. D._ Silence! Don't let me hear that word again.

_Rhoda._ Yes: let me tread the boards as Macbeth.

"Is this a dagger which I see before me?"

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.) That young one's loony too.

_Rhoda._ Or as Richelieu.

"In the lexicon of youth, which Fate preserves for a bright manhood,
There's no such word as fail!"

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.) Mad as a March hare!

_Rhoda._ Or as Richard.

"Off with his head! So much for Buckingham."

_Mrs. H._ Land sakes! that would be too much for him.

_Mrs. D._ Enough of this, Rhoda Dendron. I do not care to be made the butt of your amusement. We can dispense with your company. (_Enter_ POLLIE, R.)

_Pollie._ Mrs. Duplex, champion of your sex, I have chosen my
profession. I will be a general in the army.

_Mrs. D._ Pollie Nay!

_Pollie._ A glorious life, at the head of a host, charging upon the
foe. "Up and at them!"

"Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!"

_Mrs. D._ Silence! Florence, what does all this mean? Gracious goodness! whom have we here? (_Enter_ MAGGIE, L., _with a rough pea-jacket and a tarpaulin hat added to her costume_.)

_Mrs. D._ Maggie, what does this mean?

_Maggie._ If ye plaze, missus, they towld me nixt door that all the women-folks was a-goin' to step into the men's places; and so I thought I'd jist give warnin', and take mesilf to the say, for me own Teddy is a sailor, and I might climb the sails, and pull the ropes, and haul in a jib, till I larnt the way, if ye plaze.

_Mrs. D._ Why, Maggie, I'm astounded to think you should listen to
such nonsense.

_Maggie._ Sure, 'twas Bridget Daly, nixt door, that heard yez own silf talk last night, and towld me. (_Enter_ KATIE, R., _with a large military hat on her head, a gun on her shoulder_.)

_Maggie._ Oh, murther! Here's Kate wid a gun!

_All._ A gun! (KATIE _comes_, C.)

_Pollie_ (R.). Oh, dear! put it the other way! (KATIE _turns to_
R.)

_Rhoda._ (L.) No, no! the other way!

_Mrs. H._ Lord-a-mercy! she'll blow all our brains out! (_Gets
behind lounge._)

_Florence._ Put down that gun, Katie. (KATIE _takes it from her
shoulder_.)

(POLLIE _and_ RHODA _scream, and jump up in chairs_, R.; MRS. DUPLEX _gets behind easy-chair_; MAGGIE _jumps upon lounge; and all cry, "Drop it!" "It's loaded!" "Take it away!" "Call somebody!"_) _Florence_ (_takes the gun, and lays it upon the floor_).

You can descend in safety, girls. (_All get down._)

_Mrs. D._ Now, Katie, what does this mean?

_Katie._ If ye plaze, Mrs. Duplex, I thought, bein' the good time that's comin' was come, and the women-folks was a goin' to rule, and the men-folks do the housework, I'd give warnin', if you plaze. (_Stoops, and picks up the gun. All scream, and renew their old positions on chairs, behind chair and lounge, as before; repeat cries, "Put it down" &c._)

_Florence._ Don't be alarmed: it's not loaded. (_All quiet again._)

_Mrs. D._ Well, it's about time an end was put to this nonsense. You have picked up one of my remarks last night for the purpose of laughing at me, or—

_Florence._ Teaching a lesson, mother.

_Mrs. D._ Well, I acknowledge my remarks were a little wild, and am prepared to pay the penance. What shall it be? You seem to have been the manager of the remarkable scene. Speak.

_Florence._ Mother, I want to take Carrie back with me when I return
to school.

_Mrs. H._ Bless my soul! what do you think I found in your father's desk to-day? Something that looks, for all the world, like a will. Here it is. (_Gives paper to_ MRS. D.)

_Mrs. D._ A will! (_Opening it._) And of a later date than the one in my possession. (_Reads._) "To be equally divided between my dear wife, and my beloved daughter Caroline." Indeed! This must be seen to.

_Florence._ Ah! then Carrie is not penniless, after all.

_Mrs. D._ Florence, how can you speak so? Never, while I live.
Where is the dear child?

_Mrs. H._ Shouldn't wonder if she was sweepin' off the steps.
(_Enter_ CAROLINE, R.)

_Caroline._ The reception-room is in order, madam.

_Mrs. D._ Caroline, my dear child, I think your experience in house-affairs has been sufficient for the present. You will go with my daughter to Rushly Seminary on her return. I shall look after my house myself hereafter.

_Mrs. H._ Lor' sakes, Hannah Merria, are you coming to your senses?

_Mrs. D._ I hope I have never been bereft of them.

_Florence._ And the Reform Club, mother—

_Mrs. D._ Shall still have my hearty support; but no more public speeches for the present, for my house needs putting in order; and you have reminded me of that which I had almost forgotten, that a woman's first duty is to her home.

_Katie._ Faith, ma'am, if there's to be a misthress, I'll sthay,
if yez plaze.

_Maggie._ An' mesilf, too, missus, by your lave.

_Florence._ There, mother, the storm's over; so let's hear no more of
"woman's rights."

_Rhoda._ And I can't be a butcher!

_Pollie._ Nor I an auc-sh-sh-shuneer. It's too bad!

_Mrs. D._ So there has been masquerading here.

_Florence._ For which I alone am to blame. Mother, we are wild girls, and good subjects for missionary work. Set the Female Reform Club a good example by commencing its work in your own neighborhood, and reform us.

_Mrs. D._ There is certainly a large field of labor here for me; and I shall set about the work at once. But what will the officers of the club say?

_Mrs. H._ (Kee.) That you've backslid, Hannah Merria.

_Florence._ If they are honest and earnest, they will say that she who to the welfare of her family first gives her heart, is a stanch friend to progress. In that realm she is queen, and they who bend beneath her loving sway, freely acknowledge her, in that grand sphere, the Champion of her Sex.

_Situations._

CAROLINE. FLORENCE.
RHODA. MRS. D.
POLLIE. MRS. H.
KATIE. MAGGIE.
R. L.

_Curtain._

THE VISIONS OF FREEDOM.

A NATIONAL ALLEGORY.

CHARACTERS.

GLORIA, Goddess of Freedom.
RUBINA, her Counsellor of War.
SERENA, her Counsellor of Peace.
QUEEN MAB of Dreamland.
DROWSA, OBLIVIA, SOMNA, SOOTHA, Dream-Spirits.
ART, INDUSTRY, MUSIC, PLENTY, SERENA'S Attendants.
REVENGE, DISCORD, CRUELTY, HATRED, RUBINA'S Attendants.

_Action supposed to have occurred in Dreamland. Green bank_, C.
_Behind this a small platform about six inches high; chorus
seated_ R. _and_ L. _of stage_.

_Opening Chorus; air, "The Quiet Night."_

Slumber o'er earth is sending
Its realm of sweet repose:
The stream of life, rest-tending,
In peace through Dreamland flows;
Where waiting and caressing,
With varied visions blessing,
Dream spirits vigils keep;
Dream spirits vigils keep;
Their vigils keep, their vigils keep.

(_As the chorus closes, enter_ R., DROWSA _and_ OBLIVIA; L., SOMNA
_and_ SOOTHA; _then_ R., QUEEN MAB, _who stands_ C.)

_Q. Mab._ Spirits of Dreamland, once again we meet,
Our round of nightly revel to repeat.
O'er earth, when locked in sleep's warm, close embrace,
Since time began, the genius of our race
Has had the power fearlessly to sway
The visionary sceptre all obey.
The mighty monarch, who, with tyrant frown,
Upholds the burden of his weighty crown;
The fierce-browed warrior who relentless slays,
And, bathed in blood, his vows to Moloch pays;
Haughty and lowly, powerful and weak,—
Under mysterious spells our guidance seek.
Sweet sister spirits, Dreamland opens wide;
Yet justice guards it well on every side.
Over the pure we rosy visions throw:
Around the base a sea of troubles flow.
Ere forth you glide to ply your happy arts,
Your queen would learn the secrets of your hearts;
Who hie to sport, with mischievous intent,
And who on graver ministries are bent.

_Sootha._ I've an old miser under watchful care,
With sordid soul, of generous impulse bare;
Who nightly feasts, with avaricious eyes,
Where treasured gold in rare profusion lies;
Who revels o'er his fast-increasing store,
Chuckles with glee, yet wistful sighs for more;
Starvation's image, in a den so bare,
It seems a fit abode for dark despair.
Into his sleep I glide, disturb his rest,
Rattle his treasure, till, with fear possessed,
As frightful visions thick and thicker press,
He trembling wakes, his idol to caress.

_Oblivia._ Fair queen, a toiling student I enchain,
And with my art refresh his weary brain:
Up wisdom's heights I lead him by the hand,
And show him visions of the promised land;
Fair fields of learning spread before his gaze,
For him the realm of science set ablaze,
Ope Fame's grand temple, Honor's scroll unroll,
And tell the triumphs of the trusting soul,
Till hope re-animates the wasting fire
With earnest zeal and conquering desire.

_Somna._ I guard a trusting maiden, young and fair,
Whom Love has tangled in his silken snare;
Spread rosy dreams amid her sleeping hours,
And lead her captive through a land of flowers;
Adorn her hero with true manly pride,
And of the future ope the portal wide,
While smiles of pleasure o'er her sweet face creep,
And blissful words betray her secret deep.
With rare delight her day-dreams I repeat,
And make her young life's round of love complete.

_Drowsa._ Oh, I've a task, fair queen, will love secure.
Last night I visited with visions pure
A weary mother, who, for many a day,
Watched o'er the cradle where her dear babe lay
Wasting with fever, till the unseen Hand
Took it in kindness to a better land.
Long has she mourned its loss, with wakeful eyes,
Fast-falling tears, low, sad, and bitter cries.
Last night she slept; and then, in vision's charms,
I crept, and laid her babe within her arms.
Content she rested, with a smile so sweet,
I go to-night this comfort to repeat.

_Q. Mab._ Your zeal, industrious spirits, we applaud:
Your chosen missions meet with full accord;
Yet for this night we have a task so grand,
Your queen would all your energies command.

_Somna._ We wait your pleasure,

_Oblivia._ All our arts employ;

_Drowsa._ Set us what tasks you will,

_Sootha._ We'll serve with joy.

_Q. Mab._ Thanks, sisters! To our confidence draw near,
And list our secret with attentive ear.
Freedom's fair goddess, Gloria, in doubt,
Her fair Republic, restless roams about,
Seeking a talisman to life prolong,
And make her youthful charge wax brave and strong.
Close at her side Rubina, crafty maid,
Whose fire-lit eyes gloat over war's dread trade,
Plies her bold speech, unchecked by fear of frown,
Counselling deeds of conquest and renown;
While calm Serena, long to Peace allied,
Whose gentle influence stretches far and wide,
Recounts the glories of a land at rest,
With sterling Industry's rich harvests blest.
Wavering betwixt the gentle and the bold,
By turns rebellious, and by turns controlled,
Poor Gloria wanders long, in dire distress
Which counsellor to choose her realm to bless.
Old custom gives to us prophetic power
To guide by vision in the trying hour.
And so to-night, o'er Gloria's doubting heart,
Fair sister spirits, we will ply our art,
Lure her to Dreamland, and in phantom light
Illume her path, and guide her to the right.
Stand close! she comes! the light winds bear along
The martial burden of her triumph song.

[_Retire, and form behind bank._

_Chorus; air, "Love of Country."_

Blest is the land where Freedom rears,
'Neath heaven's blue, arching dome,
For labor's sons of every clime,
Her proud and happy home.
Beyond the reach of tyrant rule,
Free are the hands we raise:
Onward we move, with joyous song
Of thankfulness and praise.
Blest is the land, &c.

(_Enter_ L., GLORIA, _attended by_ RUBINA _and_ SERENA,
_followed by_ ATTENDANTS.)

C. GLORIA.
R. RUBINA. SERENA, L.
ATTENDANTS. ATTENDANTS.

_Gloria._ Yes, mine, all mine, this bounteous land,
So rich in varied blessings that command
Homage from all. The mighty of the earth
Must stoop to thee, O land of lowly birth!
Thy mountains rise in majesty and pride;
In royal state thy valleys open wide;
Thy broad, expansive waters, spreading free,
Embrace the bosom of the mother sea;
Out of a fruitful earth thy harvests rise;
Out leaps the golden ore with glad surprise;
Over thy broad domains, with ceaseless hum,
Labor's grand armies ever conquering come;
While rare Invention opes its secret heart,
And Genius rears its monumental art.
O land of promise! Gloria's inmost prayer
Could ask no more than thy fair fate to share.
Sweet counsellors, let Wisdom quick contrive
Some plan this happy state to keep alive.

_Rubina._ A nation's life, fair mistress, action craves;
Cold, sluggish apathy the blood enslaves.
Renown's the rock on which to rear a state;
Rubina's counsel is for conquest straight.

_Gloria._ Conquest, Rubina! Thine's a sorry jest.
We have no quarrels: friends with all we rest.

_Rubina._ Ay: but to win renown, with fair excuse,
Strike at the shadow of some old abuse
Among our neighbors; or, with slight parade
Of justice, boldly on their borders raid.
Quick to revenge, their warlike hearts upspring:
"To arms! to arms!" they cry. Their weapons ring;
On us they march, a fast-increasing band,
Till in the confines of our realm they stand.
"Quick! to repel invasion!" then our cry;
Alarming signals flash out fierce and high;
From east and west, from north and south, outpour
The sons of Freedom, in their strength secure;
Drive back the foe, in turn invade their fold,
Until their fate victoriously we hold.

_Gloria._ And then—

_Rubina._ And then boldly for ransom claim
A portion of their realm in Freedom's name.

_Gloria._ What says Serena?