WILD OATS.

BY JOHN O'KEEFE.

[THE author of the play above named, while he cannot be ranked among the great dramatists, certainly belongs among the most prolific, since in all he produced more than sixty plays, many of which became highly popular. These plays are rather extended farces than true comedies, and while several of them are still classed among the acting drama, only one strongly appeals to the public taste. "Wild Oats," however, is so sprightly, and its leading character such a favorite of the theatre-going public, that it is likely long to retain its place in the living drama.

John O'Keefe was of Irish birth, being born at Dublin in 1747. His life was actively devoted to dramatic composition, he having produced nearly fifty plays by the end of the century. In his fiftieth year he became blind, yet continued his work of authorship, and pathetic stories are told of the blind old playwright's waiting behind the scenes for the public verdict on his plays, and eagerly questioning his little son as to the temper of the audience. He was partly supported in his

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later years by a pension from the crown. He died in 1833.]

Sir George Thunder, a captain in the British navy, had sown his wild oats in his youthful days, and had ever since been reaping the harvest in remorse. Under the false name of Captain Seymour he had, as he supposed, with the connivance of a seaman named John Dory, deceived an innocent young lady, named Amelia, by a false marriage. He had afterwards deserted her and her infant son in the East Indies, and subsequently married again,-a base action which had afterwards given his conscience many a bitter pang. In one respect he was mistaken,—his marriage with Amelia had been a real one. Honest John Dory had deceived his scapegrace of a master, the ceremony having been performed by Amelia's brother, who was then in holy orders. Sir George had since risen in rank in the navy, and had kept John Dory with him as his boatswain, and, in a measure, as his guardian. On one occasion, when the bed-curtains of his cabin had caught fire, John had snatched him from his berth and flung him into the sea,-half drowning him to keep him from being burned. On another, when he found him drinking too deeply in company, he had caught him up in his stalwart arms and carried him home, despite his kicks and curses. Other similar evidences of John's idea of duty might be cited; but withal, the small-sized but stout-hearted baro

net loved him like a brother, and would rather have lost his right arm than his faithful boatswain.

Shortly before the date of the opening of our story, Sir George-or Captain Thunder, to give his official title-had reached England. He had hoped to pay an early visit to his son, Harry, who had just completed his studies in the Naval Academy at Portsmouth, but was prevented from doing so by the necessity of pursuing some deserters, who had fled after taking his earnest money. He thereupon sent John Dory to Portsmouth to bring his son, and set out in hot chase after the deserters.

Sir George had another purpose in view. In Hampshire, whither his steps were directed, dwelt his niece, Lady Mary Amaranth Thunder,—or Mary Thunder, as she preferred to call herself, for she had been brought up in the plain tenets of the Quakers. The young lady was rich, handsome, and generous, much of her wealth having been left her by a cousin, the executor of whose will, Ephraim Smooth, a canting hypocrite, dwelt with her, as an unwelcome addition to her household. In Sir George's fancy, this fair Quakeress, despite her plain ways, would make a fitting match for his son, and it was with the design of bringing the cousins together that he had sent John Dory to conduct the young man to Hampshire.

The worthy boatswain failed in his mission.

Harry Thunder had left Portsmouth before he got there. The young truant, in fact, was emulating his father in sowing his wild oats. Seeking London, he had joined a company of strolling actors, taking the stage-name of Dick Buskin. Here he became an intimate friend of a highminded but light-hearted young actor named Jack Rover. The two friends, after playing together for some time, had left the company through some disagreement, and at the time of Sir George's visit to Hampshire were in the same. part of England, on their way to Winchester, where they were booked to play.

Sir George, failing to find the deserters, had visited his niece, where, despite her warm welcome, the freedom of speech of the servants roused the ire of the old sea-dog, accustomed to the respect of manners on shipboard. He roared out his opinion of Ephraim Smooth and the others so plainly, indeed, that Lady Amaranth had much trouble to quiet him.

"Kinsman, be patient," she said, soberly. "These are our ways. But I am glad to greet thee, and will be pleased to welcome my cousin Henry, whom I have not beheld these twelve years."

Harry Thunder was just then nearer than either of them suspected. He was, in fact, on a road in the vicinity of Lady Amaranth's mansion, in company with his servant Midge. Their companion, Jack Rover, had not yet left the inn where