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Pauline (aside.] This man must have some [DAMAS approaches DESCHAPPELLES ; mercy-his heart cannot be marble. (Aloud.] verses apart with him in dumb show.-DESOh, sir, be just—be generous !—Seize a noble tri- CHAPPELLES shows him a paper, which he inumph-a great revenge !-Save the father and spects, and takes. spare the child !

Pauline. Thrice have I sought to speak; my Beauseant [aside.] Joy-joy alike to my hatred courage fails me. and my passion! The haughty Pauline is at last my Sir, is it true that you have known-nay, are you suppliant. (Aloud.) You ask from me what I have the friend of-Melnotte ? not the sublime virtue to granta virtue reserved Melnotte. Lady, yes !—Myself only for the gardener's son! I cannot forego my And Misery know the man! hopes in the moment of their fulfillment !--I ad- Pauline. And you will see him, here to the contract—your father's ruin or your And you will bear to him-aye-word for word, hand!

All that this heart, which breaks in parting from Pauline. Then all is over. Sir, I have decided. him, [The clock strikes one. Would send, ere still forever?

Melnotte. He hath told me
Enter Dayas and MELNOTTE, L. C.

You have a right to choose from out the world Damas. Your servant, cousin Deschappelles. A worthier bridegroom ;-he foregoes all claim, -Let me introduce Colonel Morier.

Even to murmur at his doom. Speak on! Madame Deschap. (courtesying very low. ] Pauline. Tell him for years I never nursed a What, the celebrated hero? This is, indeed, an thought honor. (MELNOTTE bows and remains in the back. That was not bis; that on his wandering way, ground.

Daily and nightly, poured a mourner's prayers ; Damas [to PAULINE.) My little cousin, I con- Tell him, ev'n now, that I would rather share gratulate you! What, no smile—no blush'? You His lowliest lot,-walk by his side an outcast,are going to be divorced from poor Melnotte, and Work for him, beg with him,-live upon the marry this rich gentleman. You ought to be ex- light cessively happy!

Of one kind smile from him, than wear the crown Pauline. Happy!

The Bourbon lost!
Damas. Why, how pale you are, child !--Poor Melnotte [aside.] Am I already mad?
Pauline! Hist-confide in me! Do they force you and does delirium utter such sweet words
to this?

Into a dreamer's ear? [Aloud.] You love him Pauline. No!

thus, Damas. You act with your own free consent? And yet 'desert him ? Pauline. My own consent—yes.

Pauline. Say that, if his eye Damas. Then you are the most—I will not say Could read this heart,-its struggles, its temptawhat you are.

tionsPauline. You think ill of me—be it so—yet if His love itself would pardon that desertion ! you knew all

Look on that poor old man-he is my father; Damas. There is some mystery-speak out, He stands upon the verge of an abyss; Pauline.

He calls his child to save him! Shall I shrink Pauline (suddenly.] Oh! perhaps you can From him who gave me birth? withhold my save me! you are our relation-our friend. My hand, father is on the verge of bankruptcy—this day And see a parent perish? Tell him this, he requires a large sum to meet demands that And say that we shall meet again in heaven! cannot be denied; that sum Beauseant will ad- Melnotte [aside.] The night is past; joy cometh vance—this hand the condition of the barter. with the morrow. Save me if you have the means-save me! You [Aloud.] Lady—I-I-what is this riddle? what will be repaid above!

The nature of this sacrifice Damas. I recant-women are not so bad after Pauline ( pointing to DAMAS.] Go, ask him! all!- [Aloud.) Humph, child! I cannot help Beauseant [from the table.] The papers are you—I am too poor!

prepared-we only need Pauline. The last plank to which I clung is Your hand and seal. shivered.

Melnotte. Stay, lady-one word more! Damas. Hold-you see my friend Morier: Were but your duty with your faith united, Melnotte is his most intimate friend-fought in Would you still share the low-born peasant's lot? the same fields—slept in the same tent. Have Pauline. Would I? Ah, better death with you any message to send to Melnotte ?-any him I love word to soften this blow

Than all the pomp—which is but as the flowers Pauline. He knows Melnotte—he will see him That crown the victim !--[Turning away.] I am -he will bear to him my last farewell—[Ap- ready. [MELNOTTE rushes to DAMAS. proaches MELNOTTE.—He has a stern air-he Damas. Thereturns away from me—he despises me!-Sir, one This is the schedule—this the total. word, I beseech you.

Beauseant (to DESCHAPPELLES, showing notes.] Melnotte. Her voice again! How the old time. These are yours the instant she has signed; comes o'er me!

You are still the great House of Lyons ! Damas [to MADAME.) Don't interrupt him. [The notary is about to hand the contract to PauHe is going to tell her what a rascal young Mel- LINE, when MELNOTTE seizes and tears it. notte is; he knows him well, I promise you. Beauseant. Are you mad ?

Madame Deschap. So considerate in you, Mons. Deschap. How, sir! What means this cousin Damas!

insult!

it:

Melnotte. Peace, old man!

Beauseant. Their happiness I have a prior claim. Before the face

Maddens my soul! I am powerless and revengeOf man and Heaven I urge it! I outbid

less.

[TO MADAME. Yon sordid huckster for your priceless jewel. I wish you joy! Ha, ha! the gardener's son! [Giving a pocket-book.

[Erit, L. C. There is the sum twice-told! Blush not to take Damas [to GLAVIS.) Your friend intends to

hang himself! Methinks There's not a coin that is not bought and hal. You ought to be his traveling companion ! low'd

Glavis. Sir, you are exceedingly obliging! In the cause of nations with a soldier's blood !

[Exit, L. C. Beauseant. Torments and death!

Pauline. Oh! Pauline. That voice! Thou art

My father, you are saved,—and by my husband ! Melnotte. Thy husband !

Ah! blessed hour! [PAULINE rushes into his arms. Melnotte. Yet you weep still, Pauline! Melnotte. Look up! Look up, Pauline !—for I Pauline. But on thy breast !—these tears are can bear

sweet and holy ! Thine eyes! The stain is blotted from my name. Mons. Deschap. You have won love and honor I have redeemed mine honor. I can call

nobly, sir! On France to sanction thy divine forgiveness ! Take her ;-be happy both! Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! By the midnight watch- Madame Deschap. I'm all astonished ! fires

Who, then, is Colonel Morier ? Thus have I seen thee !-thus foretold this hour! Damas. You behold him ! And ’midst the roar of battle, thus have heard Melnotte. Morier no more after this happy day! The beating of thy heart against my own! I would not bear again my father's name Beauseant. Fool'd, duped, and triumph'd over Till I could deem it spotless! the hour's come! in the hour

Heaven smiled on conscience ! As the solãier rose Of mine own victory! Curses on ye both ! From rank to rank, how sacred was the fame May thorns be planted in the marriage bed! That cancel'd crime, and raised him nearer thee! And love grow sourd and blacken into hate, Madame Deschap. A Colonel and a hero ! Such as the hate that gnaws me !

Well, that's something!

[Crosses to L. He's wondrously improved! I wish you joy, sir ! Damas. Curse away!

Melnotte. Ah! the same love that tempts us And let me tell thee, Beauseant, a wise proverb

into sin, The Arabs have,-"Curses are like young chick- If it be true love, works out its redemption ! ens,

(Solemnly. And he who seeks repentance for the Past And still come home to roost!"

Should woo the Angel Virtue in the Future !

THE END.

COSTUMES. BEAUSEANT.–First dress : Frock coat trimmed with black | CLAUDE MELNOTTE.–First dress : Blue smocked frock,

fur ; black tight pants; Hessian boots. Second dress : Black worked; blue tights. Second dress: Rich green shirt, spanfrock coat; white vest; white tight pants ; Hessian boots; gled, large sleeves; white silk tights ; and cap: Third dress : modern hat.

(Same as first.) Fourth dress : Dark blue frock coat, trimmed

with light blue facings, and buttons ; blue military pantaloons, GLAVIS.–First dress : Blue frock coat, undress military black

light blue stripes on sides; chapeau and tri-colored cockade. tight pants; Hessian boots; modern hat. Second dress: Black body coat; white vest; white pants, tight; Hessian boots, etc. OFFICERS.—Dark blue coats, turned up with light blue and sil

ver; epaulettes ; white tights; military boots; chapeau and COLONEL DAMAS.-First dress : Blue uniforin coat, trimmed tri-colored cockades.

with white facings, and silver lace ; white tight military boots; SERVANT.-[TO DESCHAPPELLES.) Handsome livery. chapeau and tri-colored cockade. Second dress : Blue coat, SERVANT.-[At the Inn.) Peasant dress. trimmed with gold, epaulettes, and elegant military chapeau MADAME DESCHAPPELLES.—Rich pink dress; straw hat and plume; white sash.

and feathers. MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES.-Black Velvet suit, square PAULINE.--First dress : Pink satin, neatly trimmed, and train. cut.

Second dress: Plain white silk dress. LANDLORD.-Red coat; striped French vest and breeches.

WIDOW.-Swiss peasant dress.

JANET.-Peasant dress. GASPAR.–Blue smock frook; blue vest; breeches and gaiters. MARIAN.-White muslin dress.

The failure of Mr. Bulwer's tragedy of the Duchess de la Valliere, his first dramatic production, instead of discouraging him from again venturing upon this perilous species of composition, seems to have inspired him with the determination of proving to the public that he could write a good acting drama, whatever the critics might say to the contrary. He tried again, and produced the "Lady of Lyons." This beautiful play is founded on a well-known French tale, entitled, “The Bellows-Mender,” in which the main incidents of the plot may be found. Bulwer seems to have been less indebted, however, to this source for his materials, than Shakespeare was to the nouvelettes of his day, for many of his noblest tragedies.

The "Lady of Lyons” was produced anonymously at Covent Garden Theatre, the early part of February, 1838that establishment being then under the management of Mr. Macready. “The studious concealment of the author's name,” says a journal of the day, “was doubtless intended to obviate the influence of the personal prejudice that Mr. Bulwer and his friends

assigned as the motive of the opposition to his first dramatic production—the now forgotten Duchess de la Valliere.” The intention of the author, in producing the play anonymously, seems rather to have been to entrap the critics, who had assailed

him as incompetent to write for the stage, into praising his new work. If this was his plan, it eminently succeeded. Those writers who bad most vehemently condemned the unfortunate "Duchess," were loudest in praise of the "Lady of Lyons” and its unknown author. But we are far from thinking that their sincerity ought to be impugned on this account. The "Duchess” failed as decidedly upon the American stage as at Covent Garden.

The “Lady of Lyons” deservedly met with a far different fate both in England and the United States. In London, a portion of its great success was attributed to the masterly acting of Macready in the character of the hero; but its repeated production, under less auspicious circumstances, has proved that it contains within itself the qualities which must always render it popular in the representation.

A CHOICE COLLECTION

TIL NEW YORK DRAMA

OF

\FARCES, ETC.,

COMEDIES,

TRAGEDIES

WITH

CASTS OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c.,

ADAPTED TO

THE HOME CIRCLE, PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND THE AMERICAN STAGE.

NO. 1.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by GEORGE W. WHEAT, in the Ofice of the

Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

VOL. 1.

TO OBLIGE BENSON:

66

Levere.

Gannon.

EXITS AND ENTRANCES.-R. means Right; L Left ; R. D. Right Door: 1..

facing the audience.

she hasn't caught any cold. [Looks of at door, L. 3 E.] Eh !-here she comes !—no, confound it !

it's Benson! 3 Comedietta, in One Act.

Enter BENSON, L. D. 3 E.

Benson. Ah! Meredith, my boy! What good BY TOM TAYLOR.

wind blows you here, all the way from the Temple?

(Goes to R. of fire-place. CAST OF CHARACTERS.

Mer. Eh? 1-1-saw my uncle yesterday.

(L. of fire-place. Wallack's, N.Y. 1856. Mr. Benson (a barrister)...

Ben. What! the captain ?-old Trueblue, eh ?

Mr. Norton. " Trotter Southdown (his friend).

Holland. Mer. Yes; and he will be delighted to let you John Meredith (Benson's pupil) Mrs. Benson....

Miss Raymond.

have his cottage at Ventnor for the long vacaTrotter Southdown...

tion.

Ben. Capital !—and the figure?

Mer. What you offered-fifty guineas for the D. Lest Door ; 8. E. Second Entrance ; V. E. Upper Entrance;

M. D. Middle three months. Door. RELATIVE POSITIONS.-R. means Right; L Left ; C. Centre; R. C. Right Centre; L. C. Lest Centre, &c. The reader is supposed to be on the Stage, Ben. Bravo!-Carry will be delighted with

Ventnor—the cottage is delightfully situated, isn't SCENE.—A Drawing-room-Door in flat, C., backed it?

by another chamber door, R. 2 E. Window Mer. Delightfully. You can catch your own (practicable) with curtains, R. 3 E. Door, L. 3 lobsters out of the dining-room windows. E. Practicable fire-place, with fire, fender, fire

Ben. I don't know that that will be any reirons, hearth-rug, &c., L. 2 E. Chimney-piece, commendation-to her, I mean. But, remember, with glass, china ornaments, vases, and French not a hint to Mrs. Benson that I pay for the place clock. Round table R. H., with books, knick- --she fancies it a delicate attention of yours-and knacks, blotting-book, three sheets of letter-paper, she's so afraid of our spending too much money. three pens, and ink. Chair near table. Chairs Mer. You may depend on my keeping the about stage. Table at back, (againsi flat) L. H. secret. A chair (to break) near it. Easy chair by fire

Ben. And what are you going to do with yourplace ; carpet down ; an ottoman in c. of stage. self this long vacation ?

Mer. I hardly know. I shall probably be in Enter MEREDITH, L. C.

the Isle of Wight part of the time. Meredith. Not here! I am sorry for that, Ben. Look us up, look us up. Carry will be no, I am not—I'm glad; it will give me time to delighted to see you-you are a bit of a favorite collect myself before I face her. I am over- with Carry, I can tell you. whelmed with anxiety until I know the result of Mer. [aside.] I hope so. my letter. She can't be offended at it-yet, if she Ben. Here she is! (Crosses to R.] Not a word should, the consequences may be awful. It's of the money for the cottage. wrong !-of course, I know it's wrong. I didn't pay Benson a hundred guineas for leave to fall in

Enter MRS. BENSON, R. D. 2 E. love with his wife_his adorable wife-whom her Mrs. B. Good morning, Mr. Meredith. (R. parchment-faced husband leaves all day by her- Mer. (L.) Good morning. I hope you caught self, while he's rummaging Reports in Chambers, no cold at Bushey, yesterday ! or retailing them in the Queen's Bench. To see Mrs. B. Oh, no! What a charming day we an angel like that neglected in this way is enough had !—I enjoyed it so much. of itself to set an inflammable fellow in a blaze- Mer. (aside.] Bravo!-she's not offended. I and I am inflammable-I glory in it. She cer- never had a more delightful afternoon. tainly is not annoyed at my attentions, or she'd Mrs. B. Yes—the chestnuts were lovely. never have written me this dear letter takes it out], the answer to which I slipped into her glove Mrs. B. Indeed ! so cleverly at the pic-nic in Bushey Park, yester- Ben. Ah! Meredith's like me-no taste for day. I shall hear what she says to it this morn-green trees and white blossoms. Law calf's the ing. Of course I was bound to inquire whether color-eh, Meredith? But what do you think,

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Carry? Here's Meredith offers us that pretty doux. Isn't it a good notion, Meredith! Ha! cottage of the captain's—his uncle's, you know ha! ha! at Ventnor, for the long vacation.

Mrs. B. I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Mrs. B. Oh, how very kind of Mr. Meredith! Benson. such a lovely spot!

Ben. And where is Southdown this morning ? Ben. And not content with that, he's brought Snoring still, I

suppose. you a box for the opera to-morrow night.

Mrs. S. He? Oh dear, no. He was off by Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Meredith !

eight o'clock this morning to his model farm, at Ben. [aside to MEREDITH.] You twig! Take Willesden. one at Mitchell's. Hush!

Ben. Farm! Now how a sensible man of busi[Passes his purse to him slyly. ness, like Southdown, can take any pleasure in Mrs. B. But, my dear, we are trespassing on farming !Mr. Meredith's kindness.

Mrs. S. Oh, it's his passion. We all have our Ben. Not a bit of it. He kuows you adore the passions, you know, Mr. Meredith. Always some opera, and he can always get boxes given him. little pet wickedness. Lucky where they're nothCan't you, Meredith ?

ing worse than absurd. Mer. Oh, yes. I've some friends connected Mer. [aside.) Confound it! she's quizzing me. with the press. It's only asking them.

Mrs. S. He is to grow turnips as big as balMrs. Southdown (without, L. C.] In the draw- loons, and feed oxen so fat they can't walk, and ing-room! Oh, very well.

raise mangold-wurzel upon deal tables; and, in Ben. It's Mrs. Southdown, Carry.

short, to make his fortune in the most wonderful Enter MRS. SOUTHDOWN, C. D. MEREDITH retires way-in the long run. Only it's very expensive

-in the meanwhile. up to fire-place.

Ben. Throwing his money away, and neglectAh! Mrs. Southdown !

ing his wife for such humbug as that! I have no Mrs. S. [c.] Good morning, Mr. Benson. patience with him! I say, Meredith, I wish you [Shaking hands with him, L. C. He goes up, c., would just come into my study--I've had the and comes down again, R. H.] Well, Carry! papers in Griggs and Griffin up from chambers.

[Kissing MRS. B. There's the prettiest point I want to show you. Mrs. B. How well you are looking, dear.

[Going up to door, R. 2 E. Mrs. S. I've come to restore stolen goods, Mer. Very well. [Aside to MRS. S., as he Carry. Only think, I carried off your gloves from crosses behind to R. H.) I must have five minBushey, yesterday; picked 'em off the grass when utes' conversation with you, ma'am. you went for a stroll, and put 'em on instead of Mrs. S. [aside to him.). With all my heart. my own. Here they are.

[Gives gloves. Ben. [to MRS. S.] I shall find you here in a Mer. She had her gloves !

quarter of an hour Mrs. B. Thank you. I couldn't imagine what Mrs. S. Yes, I've come to spend the morning had become of them. And you enjoyed your with Carry. pic-nic ?

Ben. Come along, Meredith. We shall put Mrs. S. Oh, enormously! [Sees MEREDITH, Griggs out of court. He's made the most tremenaside.] There he is. But only conceive, Carry. dous blunder in his declaration. I've made a conquest.

[Exit BENSON, R. D. 2 E. Ben. 'Gad, I don't wonder at it.

Mer. [aside.] Confound it! So have I. Mrs. B. A conquest, dear?

(Exit MEREDITH, R. D. 2 E. Mrs. S. “Veni, vidi, vici!” That's right, isn't Mrs. B. [sitting down, R.) Well, dear, here it, Mr. Benson ?

we are, nice and cosy. What shall we do? Ben. Quite. It was a letter of Cæsar's to the Mrs. S. [sitting down, c.] Talk seriously. Senate. It means, “I came, I saw, I conquered.” Mrs. B. Very well. Were you at the opera on

Mrs. S. Only think, dear, of my getting a Tuesday? regular declaration-popped so neatly—the gen- Mrs. S. Never mind the opera. Let's talk tleman thought I was a widow, I suppose. about the pic-nic. Mrs. B. But who was it? Do tell me.

Mrs. B. And your love-letter, eh? Well, Mrs. S. Oh no, that wouldn't be fair. I hardly now, who was it? Let me guess. Was it a know him; and I don't want to make the poor friend of Mr. Meredith's? man ridiculous.

Mrs. S. It was Mr. Meredith himself. Mer. [aside.] A pretty mess I've made of it. Mrs. B. Mr. Meredith? Mrs. S. You never read anything like his letter. Mrs. S. Yes, he slipped the letter into my [Pretends to see MEREDITH.]-Ah, Mr. Mere- glove—that is to say, into your glove, which I dith, good morning! I didn't see you.-It was took by mistake. the silliest namby-pambiest stuff

Mrs. B. No! How very droll! Ben. Ah! so they always are, these love- Mrs. S. Droll! you seem amused, Carry. That letters. I've had lots through my hands in letter was intended for you, and from the language actions for breach. They always amuse the jury of it, it is clear that you have written to him. amazingly.

Mrs. B. Oh, weil, suppose I had. Mrs. B. But Mr. Southdown was there. If he: Mrs. S. Suppose you had ! My dear Carry, had seen you receive such a letter

do you know you've done a very imprudent Mrs. S. Oh, Trotter was asleep, under the thing? horse-chestnuts. He always goes to sleep after | Mrs. B. But, Lucy, he was so very unhappy. dinner, you know.

Mrs. s. Well ? Ben. What a capital idea! Southdown peace- Mrs. B. And then, I assure you, I've never ably snoring while his wife was receiving a billet- given him the least encouragement.

Mrs. S. You don't call that letter encourage- Mrs. S. The letterment, I suppose !

South. [without, L. C.] Halloa, Toody! Where Mrs. B. Well, but you know Benson's all day are you long in chambers, or in court, and one gets so Mer. Hush ! moped. And Mr. Meredith is so attentive- Mrs. S. It's only my husband, never mind always calling and sending one bouquets and him! prints, and getting autographs for one's album,

Enter SOUTHDOWN, L. C. and giving one opera boxes.

South. [L.] Oh! good morning, Toody. Mrs. $. And what does that all amount to, Mrs. S. (to MEREDITH.] The letter, sir, at that you should run the risk of making an excel- once. lent husband, like yours, unhappy?

South. Halloa ! Toody won't even bid me good Mrs. B. Óh, yes, I admit there never was a morning this morning--eh? I said good mornworthier man or a kinder creature than Benson. ing, Toody.

Mrs. S. My dear Carry, I hate preaching, and Mrs. S. [carelessly.) Good morning, Trotter, I don't think it ever does any good. But really good morning. you are wrong to trifle in a matter of this sort. South. What a duck it is! Ah, Meredith, I (Mrs. B. is about to speak.) I know you've only saw you at the pic-nic yesterday, my boy-didn't committed an indiscretion, but indiscretions may you pitch into the champagne, you rogue—and, easily grow into crimes, and

didn't you pay attention to the ladies ?-Ah, you Mrs. B. Oh, Lucy, you alarm me! I'll never dog! Well, and how are you-hearty-eh ? do anything so foolish again. But what ought I Mer. Quite well, thank you, sir. to do, dear?

Mrs. $. The letter-I must and will have it. Mrs. S. First of all, you mustn't write any Mer. I will give it back to Mrs. Benson. I 'more letters to Mr. Meredith.

haven't got it here. Mrs. B. Oh, never !

Mrs. S. Go and fetch it. Mrs. S. And then you must get back the one South. What is he to go and fetch, Toody? you have written.

Mrs. S. Never you mind, Trotter. Mrs. B. But how?

Mer. But surelyMrs. S. I'll undertake to recover it. I'm to Mrs. S. Go at once, sir, or I will speak out. see him here directly. You had better go.

Mer. Very well, ma'am, then speak out. Mrs. B. (crosses to L.) Oh, I'm so much [Exit MEREDITH, angrily, and with determination, obliged to you, you can't think. I had no notion

L. C. I was acting so foolishly. But I assure you I've Mrs. S. [up C., looking after him, astonished.] not given him the least encouragement.

But, sirMrs. S. Now, pray don't say that again, Carry. South. [L.) Eh! “Speak out!" What are you

Mrs. B. I won't, then. I'll go to my own room up to, you two? What is the secret between you directly, and if ever I do such a thing again, dear, and Meredith ? He looked uncommonly queer, it would serve me right to tell Mr. Benson. and you're looking flabbergasted.

[Exit Mrs. BENSON, L. D. 3 E. Mrs. S. [to herself, coming down, R. H.] I hope Mrs. S. It's lucky Benson is so blind to every- things have not gone any further than Carry said, thing but his points of law, or there might have but this obstinate refusal to give up the letter, been mischief here already. Ah! here comes the and her thoughtlessness inamorato —80 now to get back the letter.

South. Well, but I say, Toody, you don't ask Enter MEREDITH, R. D. 2 E.

after the early reds. Would you believe it? I

found three with the blight on 'em already--I've Mer. (R.) I trust, Mrs. Southdown, you will brought one to show you. not betray the secret which you have discovered Mrs. S. [to herself.) I begin to feel very by a mistake.

anxious about them. Mrs. S. (L.] I've a very good mind, sir, to be- South. So do I. Now's the ticklish time-just tray it, except on one condition—that you give up as they are beginning to swell. Look ! your most unbecoming attentions to Mrs. Benson.

[Takes a diseased potato from his pocket. Mer. Ask anything but that, ma'am.

Mrs. s. Their eyes must be opened ! Mrs. $. I shall not ask anything but that, sir. South. [staring at her.] Eh? my potatoes' Unless you will give me this promise

eyes opened! Mer. But, Mrs. Southdown

Mrs. s. Oh, bother your potatoes ! Mrs. S. I will listen to no special pleading, South. Bother my potatoes! On the contrary, sir. I am mistress of your secret, and it is for my potatoes bother me. me to dictate the conditions on which I will con- Mrs. S. Eh? yes, I've a plan to prevent the sent to keep it.

mischief going any further. Mer. [aside.] She's as obstinate as one of her

South. No-have you though? Out with it! husband's own pigs. Well, madame, what are Mind, lime's been tried, and salt-they're no use. your conditions ?

Is yours a new one? Mrs. S. You will immediately leave London. Mrs. $. A new one indeed! but I wasn't Mer. Agreed.

thinking about potatoes, Trotter. Mrs. S. You will not come within a hundred

South. Weren't you, though? My head's full miles of the Bensons all this summer.

of them, day and night. Mer. (aside.] Confound it! Well !

Mrs. S. Now, Trotter, listen to me; you have Mrs. S. And before going you will give up to a great regard for Benson, have you not? me the letter you have received from Mrs. Benson South. Regard for Benson? Immense regard at once-or I'll tell Mr. Benson everything.

-I'll do anything in the world to oblige himMer. Good heavens! Mrs. Southdown !

except cut farming.

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