SOB. Stop, stop, Mr. O'Mulligan, or you will surely prove you have a little of the Irish blood in you yet. And now, gentlemen, one word before we separate. The young man who neglects his studies, prematurely to engage in the great struggle for wealth and political distinction, has taken the surest course to defeat his own object. For discipline of mind is a powerful auxiliary in either of these pursuits, beside being of great value for other and nobler purposes. Whoever expects to go through the world without a knowledge of books, must either expect to labor all his life at a disadvantage, or expect miracles. And the parent that fails to give his children an education, either from not sending them to school with suitable books, punctually and regularly, or from not watching their progress while there, deserves in his old age to find his house left unto him desolate, and to be ill-treated by those unfortunate children whom he has wronged and cheated out of what they might justly claim as their right, a good education.

CAIN, ANCIENT AND MODERN.-ELLEN MURRAY. I.-Cain, alone. Abel lying on the ground.

CAIN. What's this! the red blood stops! he's growing cold! I'll cover him (covering body). Father will think he sleeps.

I am afraid. This hidden, dreadful thing,—

Is this my brother?

ADAM.
Cain, where is my son?
CAIN. Abel? He must have gone to find the sheep
He is so fond of. What is it to me,

My father, where the young man may be now?
EVE. Cain, where is he, thy brother? Once I held
Two little ones within my happy arms,

And was so merry with them. Now thy face
Is very dreadful. Where is Abel gone?

CAIN. Perhaps to find the tree, my mother Eve,
Of which you eat in Paradise, and fell.
Had you not eaten, I had never sinned.
ADAM. Come, let us look for him. In vain we speak.
Cain's lips refuse the truth his eyes reveal.

LAIN (alone). I am afraid, so horribly afraid!
Would I were quiet now as Abel is.

Where is my brother! But I do not know.
Am I my brother's keeper? He can go
Just where he chooses. Am I bound to see
He does not hurt himself? Say he should run
Against my club-whose fault is that? I ask.
My club is innocent, and so am I.

I will escape into the deepest shades

No; I will travel to the long world's end,

Lest any seeing me should say, "There's Cain,

His brother's murderer; kill him! strike him down!"

II.—Groups of men about a whiskey store. Covered figure on a bier. WHISKEY-SEller. What is the matter here?

FIRST MAN.
WHISKEY-SELLER.

The man is dead.

Dead! why he laughed and talked with me last night.

SECOND MAN.

We know it. Add,-he drank with me last night. WHISKEY-SELLER. What's that? What harm is that? THIRD MAN. Well, only this,The man has died of drink. He fell face down, His lips within a puddle in the road, And had not sense to lift his head again. WHISKEY-SELLER. I ask, what's that to me?

SECOND MAN.

Who sold him drink?

FIRST MAN. He bought it at that corner, of this man.
WHISKEY-SELLER. Well, if he did, what fault is it of mine?
I did not kill him. I have right to sell.
I've bought a license; yes, and paid for it.

SECOND MAN. Here is the dead man's father; stand between.
They gather closely round the bier.

FATHER. Good neighbors, have you seen my son to-day?
His wife is very ill at home and begs
What is the matter?
WHISKEY-SELLER. Your boy!

LITTLE CHILD.

Where is our father?

WHISKEY-SELLER.

Sir, where is my boy?

Am I the keeper of your boy?

Please, please tell us where.

Get out of this. Why should you ask me?

Am I your father's keeper?

THIRD MAN (taking the father's arm, and leading him and the

child out).

Come away.

FOURTH MAN. Thou art the keeper of thy brother man,
And thou didst sell him poison. He is dead!

Thy doom is branded on thy guilty brow,

As once on Cain's.

WHISKEY-SELLER.

Now just be kind enough

To clear my store of all this fol-de-rol.
FIRST MAN. It is, indeed, no proper place for men.

We leave thee to thy conscience.

They bear off the body. The rum-seller's wife, with averted face, comes in and throws herself into a chair.

WHISKEY-SELLER.
What is the matter?

Mary! why!

MARY.

Oh! I saw his face,

The dead, stern face; the wind blew back the cloak,-
It was so dreadful! On our wedding-day,

Do you remember how he smiled and talked,

And once refused the glass of wine you poured? [Sobs.
You were such friends-

WHISKEY-SELLER.

Is not May crying?

NURSE. Yes, in a minute.

There, Mary, that will do.

[Nurse and child enter.

Get her quiet, nurse.
There is nothing wrong,

She only heard the drunkard's little girl

Scream wildly when she saw her father's face-
Of course the child was startled. [Carries the child out.
Husband-John,

MARY (earnestly).

I dreamed I saw a picture wild and drear,—
A desert blighted, wind-swept: and across
The shadows fled two forms like shadows, too;

Fleeing forever: never finding rest.

The woman's face was hidden in her hands;
The other faced me. Lines of livid light

Wrote "Cain" upon his forehead. Then it seemed The face grew yours, and, with a cry, I woke ! WHISKEY-SELLER. Now, really, Mary, are you such a goose? I wish you just would mind your house and child, And leave my business to my wiser care.

There, go to May; I hear her cry again.
MARY. I feel like crying with her.
WHISKEY-SELLER.

Cain, she said.

[Goes out.

Cain killed his brother. What's this man to me?
Am I each drunkard's keeper? If he chose
To drink too much, pray what is that to me?

I did not make him drink. I think I'll try

Some other business. Preachers used to say
There is a judgment coming. What of that?
Am I to blame because a drunkard drinks?
I am not bound to watch his staggering steps
Or hold his Pshaw! I'll sell the whole concern
And buy a farm. I wonder what they'd say,-
The temperance people. As for Mary there,
She'd cry again, I know, for very joy.

COSTUMES.

GODDESS-A crown, and handsomest dress available, with long flowing skirts.

DAWN-Blue skirt, white waist, white overskirt looped with streamers of yellow tarletan; veil of pink tarletan caught up with a silver star; a silver arrow on one shoulder.

DAY-Blue dress with gilt trimmings.

TWILIGHT- Very pale blue or gray dress, with a streamer of pink tarletan over one shoulder and under the other; white tarletan veil caught up with a crescent.

NIGHT-Black tarletan dress sprinkled with gilt stars; bandeau of stars around the head.

SEA-Green tarletan dress with festoons of white; spangled white veil; corals and pearls.

FOREST-Dark-green dress trimmed with autumn leaves, or flowers, or knots of bright ribbons.

FLOWERS-White dress trimmed with garlands of flowers; flowers on the hair, and a wreath hung on one arm. CHILD-White dress, not ornamented.

GODDESS (standing on a low pedestal).

O Spirits of the Beautiful,

Where have ye fled away?

Come back to grace my royal court,
In all your bright array.

Spirits enter and arrange themselves on both sides of the Goddess,

ALL.

G.

DAWN.

so as to form a semi-circle.

O Goddess of the Beautiful,

We hear thee, and obey;

We come with light, and bloom, and song,

To grace thy court to-day.

Ye faithful spirits, hear my word:
I long have been your queen,
But now my scepter would resign
To her who shall be seen
Most worthy of the rule o'er all,—
Who to her throne will bring
The most of beauty, and will throw
A charm o'er everything.

Speak, Spirits of the Beautiful!
Let each present her claim,
And I will give the worthiest
My scepter and my name.

Then mine is the scepter, fair Goddess,
For I bring the beautiful light

That flushes and brightens the eastern sky,

And scatters the shadows of night.
And mine are the birds' early carols,

The glory that welcomes the sun;

My beauty steals over the world like a spell,
My sway is disputed by none.

G. Nay, for the world would be weary of thee,
And long thy more radiant sisters to see.

DAY.

I may come to claim the scepter,
For I bring the glorious day,
With its long and sunny hours,-
Ample time for work and play.
And I bless the man of labor

With my warmth and golden light;
Mine the throne, for with my radiance
Shall the world be ever bright.

G. Nay, for brain and limb would tired grow,
And the weary world would bid thee go.

TWILIGHT. Soft is my light,-o'er the weary world
Tender the touch of my fingers;