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can tell! I am not positive that I did not hear a groan besides the chains. It is all Josiah's fault!
Mr. S. How is it my fault, dear Arethusa? I will confess that
Mr. J. Josiah, she refers to your angry unbelief in anything approaching the supernatural.
Mrs. S. Josiah, you are responsible for a spirit coming in the spirit of revenge. You never would take my advice: and now see what you have done! We are unquestionably destroyed; to-morrow our hair will be bleached white. Forgive me all my unkind words, Josiah; we were never angry before. (Knock on the door. She and Miss Scoffer cower in a corner, the men near them.) Tell it, Josiah, that you were but using braggadocio—tell it that not only do you believe in it, but that you always did, and—oh, tell it anything; you needn't mind a fib to a ghost.
Mil. 8. (opens his tips and tries to speak, then whispers hoarsely.) Jennie, my voice is gone.
Miss S. Oh, poor Josiah, poor Josiah; he is frozen with terror, and no wonder, for he has brought this on us! Timothy, how is your voice?
Mil. J. Arethusa, my voice is all right; but my legs
Knock on the door. They crouch closely together. The door opens, and Matilda, the maid, puts in her white-capped head for a moment, when, seeing them all, she u iiltdraws it and close the door again,
Mrs. S. I saw it.—a hideous, awful face I
Mr. J. >. I saw it I
Mr. S. Male or female, should you say?
Mrs S. It was all that was awful in the face of man or woman. It may have been gory.
Miss S. With a gash in the throat!
Mrs. S. The head completely severed I [Knock,
Mr. S. (tottering.) Something ails my legs too. I may have been bold in my language a little while ago. but, Jennie, I meant no disrespect
Miss S. You were as disrespectful as you possibly could be of ghosts! [Knock.
Mrs. S. There, Arethusa, you did that; you caused that deathly knock by foolishly saying "ghost." [Knock.
Miss S. And you did that. There are legions here; 1 thought it looked like two when it put its bloody face in the room.
Door opens—Matilda appears. Mrs. b. There it is again!
Mr. S. (sinking to the floor.) Unhappy, injured spirit, I abjure thee— Speak to it, Timothy!
Mr. J. Observe the rules of polite society—it is not my guest, but yours!
Matilda. If you please
Miss S. That voice! It is a hollow echo,—a perfect grave-yard chorus! Timothy, Jennie, Josiah, say your prayers, for
They hide their faces, leaning against each other.
Matilda. My good gracious! Whatever has come over them? Here I have been knocking and knocking, and getting no answer! (In a loud voice.) Missus, Missus, I've come to say that tea is ready, and the muffins won't wait for nobody.
All (raising their heads and recognizing her). It is Matilda!
Matilda. Who did you think it was? You look as il you had all seen a ghost.
Miss Scoffer and Mrs. Skeptic cry out.
Mrs. S. Don't say the word, Matilda, for we—we—we—
Mr. S. It's all this confounded paper's fault; I'll horsewhip the editor to-morrow (flies at paper and tears it savagely)! Mrs. S. -J
Miss S. > It's all the paper's fault!
They fall on the paper and tear il into shreds, Matilda looking an in amazement, as curtain falls.
One Hundred Choice Selections, No. 11.*
This Supplement will be forwarded to any address, post-paid, on receipt oi Ten Cents tor three copies for Twenty-Five Cents), by addressing P. Garrett & Co.. Publishers. 708 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
COURTSHIP UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
Snorbleton, a practical joker.
Scene.—A fashionable watering-place. Snobbleton discoeered.
Snobbleton. Yes, there is that fellow Jones, again. I declare, the man is ubiquitous. Wherever I go with my cousin Prudence we stumble across him, or he follows her
*"1U0 Choice Selectiona No. 11," contains two other short dramatic articles which are not included in these leaflets, viz.: Scene From Douglas, introducing Norval, Glenalvon, and Lord Randolph; and the Closet Scene From Hamlet. Among the other attractive readings in No. 11, we would especially mention "Laughin' in Meetin'," by H. li. stowe; "Gone With a Handsomer Man,'' by Wilt Carleton; Mux Adder's " Political Stump Speech," "Lord Dundreary Proposing," "She would be a Mason," "The Drimkard's Dream," "Execution of Montrose," "Red Jacket," "Charlie Mactaree," " Rock me to Sleep " "Temptations of St. Anthony," "The King's Temple," "The Man with a Cold in his Head," and many others of all shades, variety, and purposes, embracing such authors as Victor Hugo, Bret Harte, Robert Lowell, P.-ter Pindar, Mrs. Partington, J. G. Holland, J. 0. Whittier, Geo. W. Bungay, Thomas Hood, Robert Southey, Mary E. Hewitt, John G. Saxe, Charles Dickens, N. P. Willis, Owen Meredith, and others, besides a host of waifs and gems from unknown sources.
The entire book (including the Dramatic Extracts) contains 224 pages. Price, thirty cents. Special Club rates. A liberal reduction for the entire set. like her shadow. Do we take a boating? So does Jones. Do we wander on the beach? So does Jones. Go where we will, that fellow follows or moves before. Now, that was a cr>iel practical joke which Jones once played upon me at college. I have never forgiven him. But I would gladly make a pretence of doing so, if I could have my revenge. Let me see. Can't I manage it? He is head over ears in love with Prudence, but too bashful to speak. I half believe she is not indifferent to him, though altogether unacquainted It may prove a match, if I cannot spoil it. Let me think Ha! I have it. A brilliant idea! Jones, beware! But here he comes.
Jones, (Not seeing Snobbleton, and delightedly contemplating a flower, which he holds in his hand.) Oh, rapture! what a prize! It was in her hair—I saw it fall from her queenly bead. (Kisses it every now and then.) How warm are its tender leaves from having touched her neck! How doubly sweet is its norfume-—fresh from the fragrance of her glorious locks! How beautiful! how—Bless me! here is Snobbleton, and we are enemies!
Snob. Good-morning, Jones—that is, if you will shake hands.
Jones. What! you—you forgive ! You really—
Snob. Yes, yes, old fellow! All is forgotten. You played me a rough trick; but, let bygones be bygones. Will you not bury the hatchet?
Jones. With all my heart, my dear fellow!
Snob. What is the matter with you, Jones? You look quite grumpy—not by any means the same cheerful, dashing, rollicking fellow you were.
Jones. Grumpy—what is that? How do I look, Snobbleton?
Snob. Oh, not much out of the way. Only a little shaky in the shanks,—blue lips, red nose, cadaverous jaws, bloodshot eyes, yellow—
Jones. Bless me, you don't say so! (Aside.) Confound the man! Here have I been endeavoring to appear romantic for the last month—and now to be cailed grumpy—sbakynhanked, cadaverous,—it is unbearable 1
Snob. But never mind. Cheer up, old fellow! I see it all. Egad! I know what it is to be in—
Jones. Ah! you can then sympathize with me ! You know what it is to be in—
Snob. Of course I do! Heaven preserve me from the toils! What days of bitterness1
Jones. What nights of bliss!
Snob. (Shuddering.) And then the letters—the interminable letters! Jones. Oh yes, the letters ! the billet doux I Snob. And the bills—the endless bills! Jones. (In surprise.) The bills!
Snob. Yes; and the bailiffs, the lawyers, the judge, and the jury.
Jones. Why, man, what are you talking about? I thought you said you knew what it was to be in— Snob. In debt. To be sure I did.
Jones. Bless me! I'm not in debt—never borrowed a dollar m my life. Ah, me! (Sighs.) it's worse than thal.
Snob. Worse than that! Come, now, Jones, there is only one thing worse. You're surely not in love?
Jones. Yes, I am. Oh, Snobby, help me, help mel Let me confide in you.
Snob. Confide in me ! Certainly, my dear fellow! See, I do not shrink—I stand firm.
Jones. Snobby, I—I love her.
Jones. Your cousin, Prudence.
Snob. Ha! Prudence Angelina Winterbottom?
Jones. Now, don't be angry, Snobby! I don't mean any harm, you know. I—I—you know how it is.
Snob. Harm ! my dear fellow. Not a bit of it. Angry! Not at all. You have my consent, old fellow. Take her. She is yours. Heaven bless you both I
Jones. You are very kind, Snobby, but I haven't got her consent yet.
Snob. Well, that is something, to be sure. But, leave it all to me. She may be a little coy, you know; but, considering your genero'vs overlooking of her unfortunate defect—
Jones. D <ect! You surprise me.