Full text of "The fair grit, or, The advantages of coalition [microform] : a farce"

anS*'

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

Mj/

i/j

1.0

Ihii

I.I

11.25

1^ r A

!r 136 wl^^

2,0

1.8

14 111.6

Photographic

Sciences
Cciporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

Wf-BSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

^^\\N

^^\^0^

5^^

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CiHM/ICIV3H
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

r~T' Coloured covers/

I I Couverture de couleur

j I Covers damaged/

□

G
D

Couverture endommagee

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou pqlliculAe

I I Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reliure serree peut causer de i'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieuie

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omittsd from filming/
!i se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 filmdes.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl6menta;res:

L'Institut a micrwfilmi le meiileur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6x6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire .qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m6thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.

I I Coloured pages/

Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommagdes

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculdes

I V Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
LkJ Pages d6color6es, tachet^es ou piqu^es

□Pages detached/
Pages d6tach6es

r~/ Showthrough/
I 1 Transparence

n Quality of print varies/
Quality ini^gale de rimpression

□ Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

□ Only edition available/
Seule Edition dispcnible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have be^n refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6t'§ film^es 6 nouveau de facon ci
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film6 au taux de ridduction indiqu6 ci-dessous.

IPX 14X 18X nx

\ 1 \ I ! \ TTI \ \ f~

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

2^X

28X

32X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Library of the Public
Archives of Canada

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit gijflce d la
g6n6rosit6 de:

La bibliothdque des Archives
publiques du Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetd de l'exemplaire filmd, et en
conformitd avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimis sont film6s en commenpant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall Contain the symbol —^-(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END "),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols -^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbols V signifie "FIN ".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., r>iay be filmed at
different reduction ratios, '''hose too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clich6. il est film6 d partir
de I'angie supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la methods.

vi2:iK-

THE FAIR GRIT,

— OR —

AfiraiiUi

^■^y

A FARCE.

' *§.

r.Y

NICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN.

TORONTO:

IH^.LFORD BROTHERS, I' L'RLISIIERS.

1876.

PRICE as CENTS.

THE FAIR GRIT.

Dramatis Personce.

Alexandku McPeteuson (a Grit and a 8eiuttor.)

BiiowNSON Banburv St. Claiu (a i-elio of the Family

Compact. )
GrEOiiGK St. Clair (his sou, educated abroad.)
Ronald (a friend of George, and a cynic given to

express himself strongly.)
Supple (a Grit candidate.)
Snapper (a Tory candidate.)
Editor of Smnshar.

Editor of Dasher. ♦

(Variout^ Editors.)
Angelina McPeterson.
Mrs. McPeterson.

Servant.
Policeman.

Sheriff.

(Ladies, Citizens, etc., ''tc.)

THE FAIR GRIT:

on,

THE ADVANTAGES OF COALITION,

A FARCE.

NICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN.

-»♦-

TORONTO:
BELFORD BROS., PUBLISHERS,

II COLBORNE STREET,
1876.

■■■i

I -H-ioJ

Entered according to the Act of Parliament of Canada, in the
year one thousand eight hundred and seventy-six, by
Bei-ford BB0THEB8, in the office of the Minister of
Agriculture.

TORONTO :

PRINTED AT THE MONETARY TIMES OFFICE,

64 AND 66 CHURCH 8TREET.

THE FAIR GRIT.

SCENE T. — A hnllgh'inri on a ballroom. George
St. Clair and Angelina McPeterson prom-
enading.

George. — I hope, Miss McPeterson, you are
going to the Cheapleys' next week.

Angelina. — No : we don't know the Cheapleys.

George. — But there can be no difficulty in youv
being invited. Shall I get Mrs. Cheapley, who is
a particular friend of ours, to send you an in-
vitation ?

Angelina. — It would be of no use. Papa would
not let me visit them, and you would find the
task you propose more difficult than you think.
It's only on occasions like the present that you
and I can ever meet. The Cheapleys are Tories.
The Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans,
nor the McPetersons with the Cheapleys.

George. — The Tories are not so terrible as
you think. I'm a Tory {with a smile), or at
least my father is. {With a touch of anxiety).

Angelina. — Although born in it you do not
know the country. You have lived too much
abroad.

George. — But, surely, politics do not embitter
social intercourse.

Angelina. — They pervade all life. We carry
the war along the whole line. If a member of
our party "jibs" in the least, my father gets

THE FAIR GRIT.

word from hoadqiuirtcrs to frown, and he tells
us all to frown, and we do our best to send the
offender to Coventry. A liungry Tory would not
touch a joint cooked on Grit principles. The
very look of a pudding made according to a re-
ceii)t furnished by one of your party would dis-
agree with the strongest member of ours — to
such an extent, he would fail to recognize the
value of a live-dollar bill. We have Tory delf
and Grit ware ; we eat off party plate and wash
our hands in basins of faction. {They change
sides).

George. — If this bo so, then I fear our oppor-
tunities of dancing together will be few,- now that
the season is so far advanced. But I hope we
shall meet.

Angelina. — I fear not : my father would be
very angry if he knew I had this long tete-a-tete
with a member of the opposite —

George. — Sex. Is he so particular ? {Laugh-
ing.)

Angelina. — No, no. (laughing). I was a])out
to say " opposite party." Here comes my part-
ner. *

George. — That gigantic gentleman — " pride
in his port, defiance — "

Angelina. — Hush ! That is the Speaker of the
Imperial Bund.

George. — God bless me !
{Exit Angelina with the Speaker of the Imperial
Blind. She smiles at George St. Clair ar. she
goes awag. St. Clair remains for a mom( nt in
a hroicn study, ivhence he is aivakened hy a taj)
on his shoulder from Eonald.)

THE FAIR GRIT. 7

Ronald.— Why, St. Clair, what is tlie mat-
ter with you ? Arc you in love ? Have the
starry eyes of the fair Grit cast their spell
athwart your heart ? Has your soul ])een
captured hy that smile which hreaks like sun-
shine from the purple cloudlots of her lips, and
glories each dimpled rosebud, and wreathes her
snowy chin with subtle charms. Ha ! ha ! ha !
Say— Have the darts of Dan Cupid pierced the
joints ofyour worship's harness? Ha! ha! ha!
George.— Come, Ronald. No chaff. Good
Heavens ! what a beautiful girl ! How she dances !
What a lithe figure ! Her little feet ! I could
take both within my hand. And her eyes ! And
that columned neck on which the head rests in
lovely praise !

Ronald. — Yes : the neck of a swan and the
eye of a Basilisk. I see you're hit hard. But
there's no use ; she's a Grit.

George. — She told me that herself. But what
matter ? I suppose mine is the oldest family in
the country.

Ronald. — Barring the Indians.
George. — I'm well off; or shall be.
Ronald. — Of good appearance — go on.
George. — Come, don't chaff.
Ronald. — Well, then, your fa^^^er would cut
you off to a penny if you were to mingle the
aristocratic blood of an earlier with the plebeian
blood of a later emigrant, and a Grit too — fair
though she be.

George. — Are there indeed such great causes
of division between the two parties?

Ronald. — You are as ignorant of our politics

as9

THE FAIR GRIT.

as the latest-arrived Englishman, who thinks he
does us an honour if he comes to earn his hread
in what he calls our "blaursted country," and
fears he is about to be charged by a bull from
the prairies when the driver of a sleigh who has
been waiting for rugs, cries : '* Here come the
buffaloes." Great causes of division ? Sir, they
are like infinity — you cannot grasp them. Do
you know the cry with which the Grits intend to
go to the country at the next election ?

George. — How should I know ?

EoNALD.— " Loyalty & Condy's Fluid." They
say they found this invaluable mixture most
useful for purifying, deodorising, and disinfecting
the Governmenu apartments in Ottawa after the
death of the l9,te Government, ai d that it is
very appropriate for the "Party of Purity."
But the Tories will be even with them, for they
mean to inscribe on their banner '* Our Ancient
Institutions and Chloride of Lime." The chasm
that gapes between chloride of lime and Condy's
fluid is a measure in its way of the great differ-
ences between the two parties.

George, — But why will the Tories cry " Chlo-
ride of Lime?"

Ronald. — Because they contend that the pres-
ent Government has become vicious at a bound,
and not by the ordinary process of deterioration,
and that they have out-Heroded Herod in prac-
tising the corrupt arts of their predecessors.
Hence the great need of chloride of lime at
Ottawa just now.

George. — Surely our politics cpnnot be euch

THE FAIR GRIT.

as you describe them. We have not falien so
low.

Ronald. — Yep, but we have. It is a rivalry in
indecent hypocrisy in which practice and pro-
fession are more than usually apart. They
out- vie each other first in professions of purity,
and then out-do each other, as far as it is pos-
sible, in acts of corruption. It is a buncombe
struggle — a battle of quacks. Each has his
sham nostrum, his delusive specific, and the
poor country is the patient whom the betraying
drug of the blatant and brawling Pharmacopola
leaves worso than he was. In Opposition all is
virtue ; in power all the reverse.

Gp:orge . — II orrible .

Ronald. — Horrible indeed, i^ye, Sir, horrible
hypocrisy. Fancy a polecat crying out for eau-
de-cologne at the approach of a fox and you have
an idea of some of our statesmen. Next election
decency will be outraged, characters stained,
reputations ruined, life's life lied away, in a
battle between rival corruptionists, fighting over
the respective merits of Condy's fluid and chlo-
ride of lime, while our loc, 1 Government will be
the Boss Tavern Keeper of the Province.

George. — What a picture !

Ronald. — Say, rather, what a picture it would
be were there an artist capable of drawing the
deformed reality in its proper lines, and painting
it in its veritable colours. It is not even the
quackery of incompetent or time-serving allo-
paths who go in for homoeopathy; ours is in part
the quackery of utter ignorance. We have
ministers talking like children about political

THE FAIR GRIT.

economy — a science they never studied, and if
they had, they couldn't have mastered it. We
have persons who don't know its rudiments
thoroughly, dogmatizing about free trade, as if
any man of mark ever held that free trade was
applicable to the condition of every country.
We talk about constitutionalism. But we are at
present ruled by a personage responsible to no
one. If taxation without representation is tyr-
anny, still more is power without responsibility.

Geohge. — You have attracted attention by the
earnestness of your manner.

Ronald. — The manner is as out of place here
as earnestness itself is elsewhere. I sappose
you are thinking of the fair Grit.

George {takimy Jioh! of Ronald's arm, and
leadinrf him to the door\) — Look how she dances.
She moves like a goddess. The motion of the
wave is not more graceful in its curves. She
has the sweep of the swallow and the poise of
the sea-gull. If Grits look like her I shall love
them all ; and ever}' bit of Grit in her I love.

Ronald. — What an enemy Cupid is of policy,
and yet he is the best of diplomats.

George. — She is the fairest figure in that fair
scene.

Ronald. — That fair scene — pshaw! It's a
mass of vulgarity. Gilded hollowness ! Jew-
elled meanness; gems, and panniers, and skirts,
and lace in many instances borrowed ; poverty
and pride, haughtiness and \ulgarity, confidencS
and ignorance go hand in hand ; and all pow-
dered like — but I wont proceed. Are these
young ladies '? Why, they dance like Bac-

THE FAIR GRIT.

chantes and like barmaids leer. George, let
us here in Canada make no mistake ; to have
a real society, that shall have good form, yon
must have a real head of society, and that
head should find his or her inspiration not in the
brackish waterS'and moral poverty of imitation,
but at the springs and fountains of principle and
nature, and in elevating companionship with the
ideal heights of human character, round which
blow for ever more the breezes which keep the
heart fresh, and the bloom on the cheek of the
soul. But these mendicants of fashion, these
social Lazzaroni. —

George. — I see you're a cynic.

Ronald. — Sf) much so that I advise you to
drive love from your heart.

George. — Never.

EoNALD. — Tush.

George. — I mean it.

Ronald. — You want to marry her ?

George. — I tell you without her, life is worth-
less; it is the setting without the gem.

Ronald. — Or the Irish stew without the mut-
ton. Ha! ha! ha !

George. — You are profane.

Ronald. — No ; rational.

George. — Ronald, pray do not talk in this
way. I love her, and you must help me to get
her — if all the parties under heaven stood in my
way.

Ronald. — Why, really, your case is hopeless.
Come, 'tis nearly time to go. We will talk this
matter over as we drive home. I will not say it
is quite so bad as that the Tory who would be

THE FAIR GRIT.

■ &

mated with the Grit must die for love — but it is
very nearly. (Exeunt.)

SCENE 11. — A Hustings erected on one side, on
the other stands the House o/McPeterson>

Enter St. Clair and Ronald:

EoNALD. — Good day St. Clair ; sharp frost —
though summer ought to be at haml. Has it
cooled the ardour of your affections ?

GeorcxE. — If you brought the bulks of ice,
which make the pole sacred from man's spade
and keel and placed them round my heart, they
would not chill the great pulse of love which
beats for Miss McPeterson. This is the gulf-
stream of my existence. I saw her father the
other day ; such a jaw and such manners. They
say there is no rose without a thorn, but my
rose blooms amid a wliole hedgerow of prickles.

EoNALD. — Thistles you mean. You say you
are well off. But even " another ten thousand "
would not enable you to pluck that rose. If a
marriage between you and Miss McPeterson
is ever to "come off" you must make a "big
push " and a " grand stand " ; and you may not
then win her. You have come here for the nom-
ination, or for the chance of seeing y our goddess?

George. — I thought I might see her.

Ronald. — Be sure you look as romantic as
possible. All grits are romantic. Their great
leader, steeped in tenderest hues of poetry — you
understand — and if you are to win Angelina you
must approach her from the romantic side.

THE FAIR GRIT.

Mind that side is not her pocket. But here they
come.

Enter Supple and Snapper, the Grit and Tory
Candidates — McPeterson and Brownson Ban-
bur's St. Clair (father of Gtsiohqe). Peojde be-
fore the hustinffs.

KoNALD. — While the preliminaries are going
forward let us chat more over this question of
your marriage. But, see, McPeterson is speaking
already.

Alexander McPeterson (comes forward, and is
greeted ivith loud cries of " Bravo Sandie.'') He
says : My friends, I don't think it shows much
good manners on your part to call a man of my
dignity ' Sandie.' I am a Dominion Senator,
and even when I say my prayers I always ask
the Lord to bless not * Sandie' but the Honour-
able Alexander McPeterson, Senator of the Do-
minion of Canada, and the Lord feels honoured
by being addressed by a person of my dignity.
(Cheers and cries of *' So he ought /" 2cith a voice
of mockery in the distance : " San-die I" which is
greeted with laughtei). My wife never speaks of
herself but as the Hon. Mrs. Senator McP. And
the motto of our family has always been for six
months or more — "Let us be dignified or die."
I should be overwhelmed in addressing such a
a meeting did I not call to mind the great
principles of Gritism — those principles which
sustain the canopy of freedom — (Cheers and a
voice, " Sandie,'' and laughter.) those principles
for which Chatham thundered and Sidney bled.
(Cheers and confusion).
1st Citizen. — I thought only Tories bled well.

THE FAIB GRIT.

III

2nd Citizen. — Yes, Sidney was a Grit ; he took
money from the King of France; he was in
foreign pay ; he was a Grit.

1st Citizej^. — Then it was the King of France
bled. The King of France then was a Tory.

Alexander McPeterson. — A base hound who
has got amongst you {confusion) — some miserable
Tory scoundrel, some traitorous villain, some
insufferable blackguard, has dared to interrupt
me — me, a Senator of the Dominion of Canada
(sensation) — and I would denounce him as he
deserves but that it is contrary alike to my poli-
tical and religious principles to use any but the
gentlest words. (Cries of " That's so.") Believ-
ing that my friend Mr. Supple will support our
respected leader, and knowing him not to be over-
burdened with education, which is the great foe
of sound statesmanship, I ask you to elect him.
(Cheers.)

Mr. Brownson Banbury St. Clair. — Gentle-
men, I am a Tory of the old school. Gentlemea,
in an ancient country like this, with our vener-
able institutions to conserve, who would not be a
Tory ? Gentlemen, will you support an ugly old
Grit like this Supple ? Gentlemen, the Grits are
not a bit better or more refined than we are in
the use of nice delicate language. (Hear, ^ hear.)
I'd scorn to stoop to personalities ; nor will I say
a word against Supple but that he has the face
of a villain, and the walk of a sneak. ( The crowd
applaud. The orator wipes his head with his pocket
handkerchief.) Gentlemen, my father was a
member of the Family Compact, and did great
things for Canada. fA voice : ** And for him-
self laughter.)

•

THE FAIR GRIT.

1st Citizen.— I love dearly classicality.

2nd Citizen.— He is too gentle with those Grits
who brought in hard times and the potato bug,

1st Citizen.— And is the potato-bug a (Irit ?

2nd Citizen.— Yes, potato-bugs have be Grits
from time immemorial.

1st Citizen.— That can't be, for then it would
follow that all Grits are potato-bugs. I am some-
thing of a Grit ; do you mean to say I am any-
thing of a potota-bug ? {Makes as if he'd fight.)

2nd Citizen.— Now, hear me patiently, and I'll
give you reasons. A bug is a bug.

1st Citizen. — True.

2nd Citizen.— a Grit is a Grit.

1st Citizen. — True.

2nd Citizen. — Now, mark me. All potato-
bugs are Grits; therefore, all Grits are potato-
bugs.

1st Citizen. — A striking conclusion, and de-
serves a blow. {Hits him; both are removed

fighting.)

Mr. Brownson Banbury St. Claiu.— See what
fellows those Grits are. I know the two
just removed for the direst members of that
unholy fraternity. Gentlemen, 1 abhor making
charges against private character; but to my
knowledge, or rather to the knowledge of a friend
of mine, Mr. Supple in his youth stole a pair
of gaiters, and he and his wife get drunk every
morning before breakfast, and finish up at night
just before they say their prayers. {Cheering and

confusion.)

One Citizen.— The country is going to the

dogs.

THE FAIR GRIT.

Another Citizen. — We must have prohibition.

B. B. St. Clair continues— I ask you to sup-
port Snapper.
{Here two drunken men, smeared all over with

filth stagger on to the stage and fall side hy side.)

Policeman {bending over one) — What party
are you ?

1st Drunken Man {holding up his soiled hands)
— I'm the party of purity.

Policeman {to the other) — And what party are
you?

2nd Man. — I'm another.

{They are led off' the stage).

B. B. St. Clair proceeds — I say I ask you to
vote for my friend — my consistent and honour-
able friend, Mr. Snapper, who with our worthy
leader will fight the beasts at Ephesus. {Cheers).
Mr. Snapper is a cheese manufacturer, but he
could sell a chp.rter as easily as a cheese, and
pocket the money with a conscience that would
give him no more trouble than one of his own
mites. (Renewed cheers.)

{Then all sensibly agree that the Returning officer
shall put the question. There are conflicting cries.
A poll is demanded. The Election day is fixed for
the following Monday. The crowd disperses).

KoNALD. — Well, what are your chances now •?

George. — I know not. How dreadful !

BoNALD. — What ?

George. — McPeterson called my father a for-
ger and a murderer, a robber and a thief.

Ronald. — That's nothing. Do you know what
your father called him ?

THE FAIR GRIT.

George. — Good Heavens ! I heard him call
him a hrigand.

Ronald. — Worse ; He said he was a hypocrite.

George. — And do you call that worse ?

EoNALD. — Yes, for 'twas true. Will you still
insist on having Miss McPeterson ?

George. — The current of my thoughts are set
that way, and shall know no retiring ebh. True
love gives strength to purpose and breath to
character ; its food is hope and sweet imagin-
ings ; its instinct, effort; its rapture, worship.
It will outwatch the s ts to catcli a glimpse of
the beloved's eyes, and scorn sleep to know itself
near the unconscious angel of its thoughts and
vows. If I cannot marry her —

Ronald. — You'll do something desperate. Oh !
I know. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I see your case is a bad
one. Come on, and let us see if we cannot help
you. Perhaps the Government would subsidize
a little railway for you from your own to the
fair Grit's house. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. — The same. — Night. Light burning
in one of the bedroom windows of McPeterson's
house.

Enter St. Clair ivith a fiddle and a ladder of ropes.

George St. Clair. — Ah ! that is her room.
0, dearest one ! {he kisses his hand toivards the
tvindow). To sit beside you and see your weatlh
of golden hair shower its largess of glory round
your peerless form ! To watch your pensive
heauty in a pleasing sadness, it would be mine

;

THE FAIR GRIT.

to dispel ! To hear your laughter gurgle like
a stream of music through the pearls and corals !
Oh ! —

Enter Eonald.

EoNALD {touchinfj his shoulder). — Oh !

George. — Ah, Eonald, it is so good of you to
come.

Eonald. — Yes, I have come to play love's
lackey and to act the A. D. C. to a madman. I
hope I won't prove myself a nincompoop, like
other A. D. C's. I see you have got the fiddle.
Now play a little in order to attract her atten-
tion, and let it be as sweetly, as sentimentally
cadent as the '' mee-yow" of a hungry kitten,

George. — Eonald, how can you ?

Eonald. — And then when she comes to the
window sing the song I composed for you in a
thoroughly feeling manner.

(St. Clair plays, and after a little Miss McPeter-
SON lifts up the umidoiv and listens.)

George. — The difficulty about your song is I
have no boat.

Eonald. — And an Irishman would say your
guitar is a fiddle. However, it is all the better.
Lying and loving have gone hand in hand from
the creation.

George sings

Oar summer nights are fleeting,
My boat is in the bay ;

Our summer nights are fleeting,
My boat is anchored near.

THE FAIR GRIT.

Pftle as the ghost of ill-starred love,
The moon her course doth take,

And sad and sweet as hopeless thought,
Her light rests on the lake.

11.

Our summer nights are fleeting,

And youth is fleeting too ;
Onr summer nights are fleeting

And rapid joy's decline ;
Unvoil thy beauty to the night.

And I'll fetch my guitar ;
The moon is waiting for your song.

And waiting, every star.

III.

Our Buramer nights are fleeting.

Sweet the honied-lapping wave ;
Our summer nights are fleeting,

With their silver-shadow'd walls ;
Whose echoes of soul-born song,

Wake ghosts of happier years.
And faint far o'er the shimmering deep,

And die among the spheres.

Miss McPeterson (Aside).— I do believe it is
Mr. St. Clair. Who is that ?

George St. Clair (Aside).— RonM, hide.
('To Miss McPeterson) — 'Tis I.

Miss McPeterson.— Mr. St. Clair ?

George St. Clair.— Yes, dearest Angelina.

Miss McPeterson.— If papa were to bear you,
I don't know what he would'nt do.

EoNALD (^si^e).— Make a Grit of him perhaps,
but ijou could do that better.

George.— I brought a ladder of ropes.

Angelina (Aside).— 'Enchanimg. It makes me
quite a heroine. Hush, Mr. St. Clair.
(Here old McPeterson comes on the stage unseen

hy the rest. J

THE FAIR GRIT.

McPeterson {Aside). — As I live, serunading
my (laughter. Who ever lii-ard of such a thing
as a respectable lady Grit beiag serenaded, aud
by a Tory, too !

Geouge. — Will you come down, dearest, and
walk ? We can slip into the garden. At your
approach the flow(?rs will open to a dawn more
lovely than the sun ever steeped our planet in.
They will diffuse their fragrance in homage to a
fairer Flora. Oh, come down.

McPeterson (Aside). — How I hate such stuff.
I hates poetry like pisen.

Angelina {Closinff the window). — I'll come
down in a few moments.

George. — Ronald, all goes prosperously.

Ronald. — You did it well. If you should ever
become impoverished you'll be able to earn an
honest livelihood as a Christv minstrel. But
you forgot to offer her the ladder of ropes.
Look where she comes.
(Miss McPeterson here enters on the stage, but

jast as George is about to greet her, her father

steps between.)

SCENE IV. — Room in McPeterson's house. Mc-
Peterson, Mrs. McPeterson and Angelina ar-
ranging for a garden party.

Mrs. McPeterson. — Really, Mac, these big
affairs don't suit me at all — though it is pleasant
to be so grand as we are — and to be able to send
out invitations on enamelled cards ; it is a de-
lirious thing.

Angelina. — You mean delicious, mamma.

THE FAIR GRIT.

McPeterson. — Of course she means dulicious.
But she must suit herself to her station, ['m a
Senator of the Dominion, and I'm rich, and
therefore I'm a great aristocrat. We are grand
people. What matter who we are, rovided we're
rich; and what matter whether I'm ignorant of
political science or not, so long as I'm a Senator ?
Hang all aristocracy, say I, except our own aris-
tocracy. And what I say is this — what's the
good of being in a high station if we don't shine?
Your European aristocracies be hanged — having
their family tree, indeed. Though I do like to be
seen in the street with a lord, whenevpr one
comes this way ; and doesn't Angelina feel the
better of dancing with a lord? Nevertheless
and notwithstanding, as Mr. Blake so elegantly
says in his orations, give me the aristocratic
plant that has its roots in the gutter, surrounded
by dead rats and decaying cats, and with the
sap of a fine, fat, purse-pride — or to change the
figure — "ou see I have been studying the orators
— an aristocracy which is like a pimple on the
hide of a deranged society — an angry self-asser-
tive thing as full of pus as of pride.

Mrs. McPeterson. — Shall we invite young St.
Clair?

McPeterson. — No ! No Tories for me.

Mrs. McPeterson. — You are too bitter. I
think Liny would like to have him invited. He
wouldn't be a bad match, and he'd .atroduce us
into one of the old families — one of the F. F. C's.
And then we could abandon Presbyterianism
and go to the Church of England. For as the
Argyles say — if we are to go to Heaven at all,

THE FAIR GRIT.

I «

we might as well ^o by the first-class route, and
having in hand, an aristocratic prayer-book
with a nice Puseyite cover.

McPeterson. — How foolish you talk. If old
St. Clair would consent to have his son marry
the daughter of a Grit, John A. would never
speak to him again ; and if my daughter were to
marry a Tory, George, B. would read me out of
the party.

Mrs. McPeterson.— Then Liny I'm afraid we

must leave out St. Clair.

Angelina. — I don't care.

McPeterson.— You don't care ? Do you sup-
pose I forget his serenading of you ?

Angelina.— Well, I think we have finished
now.

McPeterson.— No we haven't. Teach your
mother how to bow, and how to walk across the
room=
Mrs. McPeterson doing the grecian bend a good

deal, sti ides across the room, cid hows in an

aivJavard fashion ; the daughter teaches her,

and at each how old McPeterson hoivs too.)

McPeterson. — You improve daily, my dear.
Now, I must go and order wine. I think the
$1.50 sherry will do.

Mrs. McPeterson. — Yes, and have a few bot-
tles of Moet's to mix with the cheap champagne.
And if vou could find one of the Government
clerks that "we could borrow to act as my equerry,
and groom of my chamber, and my lad-in-wait-
ing, it would be very nice. Some fellow who is
useful for nothing else.

McPeterson. — I will make inquiries ; shall be

THE FAIE GBIT.

sure to find somebody now that the Civil Service
is being made a system of out-dour relief for the
incompetent relations of wire-pullers. I must go
to my wine merchant.

Angelina. — And I must do some shopping.
(Exeunt McPeterson and Wife.)

Angelina and St. Clair.

St. Clair {Entering). — Oh Angelina !

Angelina. — This is too daring. If you were to
meet papa —

GrEORGE. — I'd risk my life for you. I cannot
live without you. You are the ocean to the river
of my thoughts. You haunt me with your beauty
and persecute me with anxiety. In every sweet
sound is your voice. The light of your eye is in
every star. How can 1 overcome your father's
objections ?

Angelina. — Have you not likewise your father's
objections to overcome ?

George. — Yes, but I thirk an article in the
Dasher would change his views.

Angelina. —You have hit on the only way you
can move my father. You know in the Eoman
Catholic Church they get dispensations for irre-
gularity from the Pope. Now the Smasher is the
great Grrit pope, and if you could get an article
in th3 Smasher saying that in an exceptional
case a Grit and a Tory might marry — as, for
instance, when they are very fond of each other
as we are — all might be well on our side. If the
Smasher gave him directions, my father would
eat five dollar bills and sleep on a bed of wal-

I-

THE FAIR GRIT.

nnts. But would you marry me without your
father's consent ?

George. — I am prepared to defy my father.
They say John A. nearly fainted with horror
when he heard that the son of a Tory wanted to
marry a Grit. But though a person of such
extreme sensibility, he would p:obably survive
the shock of our marriage. If I may make a pun,
he has though a Tory a great deal of grH in him,
an'^ he is specially strong on virtue.

Angelina. — No ; let us not think of marrying
without our fathers' consent. I will never marry
any one but you ; let that be enough. But if
we are forced to desperate courses, my Highland
blood will not shrink from a bold step. For I,
too, am proud of my race. That race so strong,
so many-sided, so thrifty, and yet so generous
and tender where they love ; so full of purpose
and of power; hard as the wave -beaten granite,
and soft as the moss which grows on the brow
of the steep ; prickly as their thistle, but with
the heart and beauty of its crimson flower.
They gave me a spirit as free as the streams of
their iiitive hills; John Knox's strength and
Burns' liberal heart ; and Marie Stuart's fiery
fervour without her falseness.

George. — My heroine ! Konald was right.
You should have been serenaded not with the
fiddle but the bagpipes, and I can see a glory in
them now I never saw before. Yes; not only
Marie Stuart's fervour, but her beauty too. {He
embraces her), ^

THE FAIR GKIT.

Elite)' McPeterson.

McPeterson. — You Tory scoundrel !
(George throws himself on his knees, but McP.
only belabours him ivith his stick, and George
flies, while Miss McP. cries " Don't Papa /"

(Exeunt Omnes.)

SCENE Y.—The same.
George St. Clair and Angelina.

George. — I heard your father and mother were
out and I bribed Bridget to let me in again.
I have been to both newspapers and have met
with nothing but discouragement.

Angelina. — Then we are indeed undone.

George. — Yes. On entering the office of the
Smasher I say; a small boy engaged in sorting
papers, and I asked him who he was. He re-
plied *' A devil." I started, but suddenly re-
membered all abouc printer's devils, and said,
" Oh ! can I see the editor ?" He asked what
editor ? Was it the night editor, or the city
editor, or the political editor, or the trans-
cendental editor^ or the theological editor, or
the fighting editor, or the blackguard editor,
or the editor-in-chief? In my utter bewil-
derment I asked for the blackguard editor,
and the devil shouted out, ** Our own black-
guard — to the front." Immediately there ap-
peared an elderly gentleman with spectacles,
and having the appearance of a Sunday school
teacher. Having told him my business he in-
formed me that a matrimonial question like mine

THE FAIR GRIT.

would only como under bis cognizance if I were
a candidate for a seat in Parliament. He added
that my case was one partly theological, partly
political, in the purest sense, p\d that I had
better see the political editor, whereupon the
devil cried out — *' Kohinoor to the front." Again
I was in the presence of a model of respectability,
and he informed me that he thought I had better
see the editor-in-chief at once. " Then enter
there," cried the devil, pointing to a door
on his right, and on opening which I saw
the editor-in-chief dictating how a Tory should
be roasted to one " amanuensis," and then
turning to another and telling him whether
hell had or had not an existence. " The fact
is," he concluded, "if they caald knock the bot-
tom out of hell we would re-create it with
an article. All Canada is at our feet, and we
can do as we please, and we are determined
to have a hell. We are just as strong as
the convict Davis on future punishment."
At jast he turned to me, and having heard
my story he said no word but rang for his

brother, told the devil to summon " our own
blackguard," the ''transcendental," the ''theo-
logical," and every editor and clipper in the es-
tablishment. " Theological, sing a hymn," said
the editor-in-chief. Scarcely had the sacred
strains sounded when I heard a war-whoop from
the brother of the editor-in-chief, and the whole
pack made at me. When I found myself at the
door half alive I was thankful.
Angelina. — My poor George !

-I went and recruited my strength

George.-

THE FAIR GUIT,

with oysters and wine, and then repaired to the
Dasher office. About the iiersomiel of the Dasher
staff I know nothing, for I happened to meet the
editor in chief on the stairs, and having told him
my story, he looked at me with a frank expres-
sion, and merely said; ''You're mad! you're
mad!" and on my honour I thought I must be,
ever to enter a newspaper office again, after run-
ning such a risk as I ran in the office of the
Smasher,
Angelina. — Those papers are dreadful things.
George. — As I turned to leave, the editor-in-
chief of the Dasher, fixing me with his glittering
eye, said with the utmost courtesy : " Follow me
and I will show you our inquisitorial chamber."
I followed him. At the touch of a secret spring
a door flew open, and we found ourselves in a
room kept v/ith scrupulous neatness. On all
sides were implements of torture : boots, thumb-
screws, Procrustean beds, ancle-chains, hand-
cuffs, rapierSj daggers, and many other cruel
instruments, the very names of which havt
escaped my memory. "This," said my guide,
taking down an augur of huge dimensions,
*' this is the augur with which we bore into a
fellow's vitals." I shuddered. *' And this," he
said, taking down a rapier, ''is what we thrust
under a person's fifth rib. Of la,te it has been
used on a learned subject. You see the blood
has an Oxford hue." On a slow fire at the end
of the room a figure lay which I was informed
belonged to one Robert Pinchbeck. "That is a
process," said the ed' tor-in-chief, "which is sup-
posed to be understo )d at the Smasher office, but

THE FAIR GRIT.

we understand it too." And he smiled on his

victim with the enthusiasm of an artist. He

then threw open a large cupb oard in which hung

the skeletons of those who had been tortured to

death, with their names and pedigrees, and the

date of their demise, pasted on a little beam

overhead. " The owner of this skeleton," said

he, pointing to the second one, " gave us more

pleasure than perhaps any other of our subjects,

and we tried on him nearly every instrument of

torture in our posssession." Here a radiant

light of inspiration glowed on his face, and

"with gentle voice and soft, angelically tuned,"

he sang as follows, all the skeletons keeping

time with their gaunt bones, and grinning a

horrid laugh :

McK r has gone like a light o'er the wave,

When night clouds are gathering o'er the dark sea,

No more will he gladden great M t's conclave.

No more will he madden the patient Pardee.

II.

We called him with fondness ' the blundering child,'
"For with the best of intentions he never did righi;.

And a beam o'er the waters when tranquil and mild,
Best emblemed his smile when just up for a fight.

iir

Unless 'twas in coin, all that's golden he hated.

And kid gloves would tear, if one dared them to show,

Nor cared he how heavily the people were rated.
Could he draw but the long, and play the sweet beau.

IV.

But he's gone ! oh, he's gone like a light o'er the wave

Here he was interrupted by the figure of
Robert Pinchbeck, who asked him if he was sing-

THE FAIR GRIT.

ing a hymn, adding that if so he would like to
join in, but the only answer he received was —
it has escp.ped my memory — ^but I remember
well the editor-in-chief seizing on a poker, which
he told me was a Thalberg poker, and stirring
up the fire with considerable energy. He then
turned to rae and asked me if I should like to
have a pair of wrist crushers placed on me, " or,
perhaps," he added with the utmost politeness,
" you would wish to try the boot on ? or would
you prefer to be placed on this Procrustean
couch? Would you like to be bound to one of
those skeletons? We'll do anything to oblige
you." T begged of him to let me go. " Then
go," he cried, "but beware of marrying the fair
Grit."

Angelina. — 0, George, what a country is this
Canada of ours.

George. — Come ; I have prepared everything.
Run away with me to that land of peace and
newspaper propriety below the line.

Angelina.— What if we should be stopped by
detectives like Mr. Arches and Mrs. McTrieb.

George. — I'll take care that will not happen
and even if we were we shoud cut no ridiculous
figure. There's a great difference between runn-
ing away with another man's daughter and steal-
ing another man's wife and not only his wife but
his children too. I dont know which to think the
greater fool.

Angelina. — How can women do such things?
George. — My Dearest — There are women of a
certain type who are filways sporting on the brink
of the precipice. W( need not wonder if some of

THE FAIR GRIT.

them go over. Any woman who acts so as to
deserve the name of flirt is an enemy to herself
and to her sex. But the married flirt is an enemy
of the whole race. She is an unmitigated
nuisance. She destroys her husband's peace,
disgraces her children, and mars the opening of
some eager young fool. Such scandals would be
rarer if artificial obstacles were not thrown in the
way of the union of such hearts as ours.

Angelina. — I pity the poor young fellow.

George. -It is the foolish woman that is most
to be pitied. He deserves to be censured and
laughed at as he will be. He was more like the
leader of family exodus than the organizer of an
elopement, a beardless Abraham migrating with
his household Gods than a Paris of the new
world. The grip of Montreal detectives was
worse than the upbraiding Nereus.

Angelina. — Of whom ?

George. — Oh, an old sea deity. But be sure I
will prevent all danger of capture. Nor can I
believe but that Heaven will smile on our attempt
to escape into virtuous freedom.

Angelina. — I could not go to-day.

George. — When then ?

Angelina. — I am full of fears.

George. — Dismiss them. The fate fight for
lawful, even as they fight against unlawful loves.
To the devotees of these Cupid is constantly
transformed into a policeman and his little dart
into a truncheon ; to those who follow the better
path the gay heathen little God becomes a verit-
able angel of light beckoning them onward to not
merely to greater sensuous Jhappiness, but to

THE FAIR GRIT.

higher planes of moral, intellectual and spiritual
being. Dismiss your fears and lean o^ my faith-
ful heart.

Angelina. — I am resolved. Come here to-
morrow at this hour. Papa and mamma will both
be out, and I'll be ready to start with you for
that land of correct clergymen and pure politicians.

{Exeunt.

SCENE Yl.—The same.

Angelina. — {Enter St. Clair.)

George. — Have you seen the Smasher and
Dasher ? Both have articles on the question
this morning.

Angelina.— -What question.

George. — Our marriage, which they treat as
an accomplished fact ; it is dreadful. The
Smasher says my youth has been steeped in dis-
sipation ; hints that you are a weak vessel ; and
thus concludes : " Never since John A., in an
evil hour for Canada, entered public life, has he
done anything so nefarious, so ruffianly and so
traitorous, as concocting this marriage. A nice
person he is to play the servitor to Cupid. He
ought to be caricatured as a link-boy to Hymen.
Away with such immoral coalitions. Talk not
to us of the happiness of young people. Happi-
ness indeed ! Preposterous ! Puling nonsense !
when the interests of a great party are at stake.
Before happiness — before individual peace of
mind stands the ^reat party of purity." The
Dasher says : " 'Lhere has always been some-
thing of the sly schemer about George B., but the

THE FAIR GRIT.

•♦1

1 ;

! ■(

most devilish guile with which he has set on
foot this marriage surpasses all his achieve-
ments."

Angelina. — Dreadful ! (Bursting into tears).

George. — Follow me. Let us leave this re-
gion of newspaper oppression and erotic despair.

Angelina. — I'll follow you to the ends of the
earth.
{As they go forth enter MoPeterson and old St.

Clair.)

McPeterson. — Where were you going ?

Angelina /aZ^ at his feet and says. — Papa, I
was going to marry him.

McPeterson. — Suppose there is no necessity
of your going away. Mr. St. Clair has always at
heart been a sound Grit. The moment he was
offered a good place he discovered this, and to-
morrow morning the Smasher mil have an article
explaining to the world his true character, and
saying that the marriage between you and his
son is one of the most auspicious events that
could happen. You see there are coalitions and
coalitions. All coalitions that suit the Tories
are damnable ; all coalitions that suit us are di-
vine.

Angelina. — Do I dream ?

Old St. Clair. — No ! Embrace me, my
daughter..

(Angelina throws her arms around his neck and
kisses him).

Enter Ronald.

Old St. Clair. — There, that's nice, that's nice,
that's nice. 'Gad, I'm not surprised at my son.

THE FAIR GIUT.

What trouble we have given these young people
and all for humbug. I wish I knew any way of
lessening the humbug in the world.

Ronald. — Commit suicide.

Old St. Clair. — Commit suicide !

Ronald. — Yes. I thought you wanted to de-
crease the humbug in the world. That would
be an effectual way.

George. — Don't be cynical at this hour. I
have some reason to be morose. My body is still
black and blue from the blows of the Smasher
editors. ** Our own Blackguard," or " Our Spe-
cial Blackguard," whichever he was, hit specially
hard, and under the belt too ; in fact, his blows
have made it impracticable to sit down with
comfort. But when my heart is full of joy,
what care I —

* Old St. Clair. — Ah, well, all is over now. I
was born and bred a Tory, but I was really au
fond a Grit.

McPeterson. — Yes, he was always a fond Grit.

Ronald. — A contract or a good place has a
wonder potency of conversion.

Ji'nter Servant.

Servant. — The editor in chief of the Smasher
and his staff are come to congratulate you,, sir.
McPeterson. — Show them in.

.Enter Mrs. McPeti-rson from one side a7id the
Editor 5 from the other.

Mrs. McPeterson. — 0, Liny, kiss me; we shall

THE FAIR ORIT.

now belong to one of the F. F. C.'s. {To
George.) My son !

George. — My mother!

The editor-in-chief sings :

To-morrow this couple will happy be ;

To-morrow must ring the marriage-bell,
And whoever with this does not agree

We'll roast him slowly, but roast him well.

Second Editor:

We'll roast him nicely.

We'll roast him neatly ;
We'll do it politely,

We'll do it featly,

And all iu Christian love.

Third Editor :

Away with love, away with sorrow,
Give me but plenty of good abuse.

For if I live on each to-morrow, »
Some public character I must traduce.

The whole staff sing in chorus :

Roast him slowly, roast him slowly, roast him slowly.

But roast him well ;
For he's a Tory, for he's a Tory, for he's a Tory,

roast him well.

EoNALD. — 0, most sweet voices !

Editor-in-chief. — I have not yet shaken
hands with the bride. May you have every
blessing, denr Angelina, and be the mother of a
stalwart rn.c ■ of Grits. I suppose there is no
difficulty about your future husband. He's
sound?

George. — I take my politics from Angelina's
eyes.

EoNALD. — Better teachers than most men have
in that corrupting science.

THE FAIR OKIT.

Editor-in-chief. — And her eyes like the stars
■which guide the Dominion, borrow their light
from the Smasher. That will do.

Geokge. — But I hope, sir, she will acquire
none of the enlightenment of your " special
blackguard." It is, I assure you, almost as im-
possible for me to sit down at this moment as it
would for one of those cherubs who are repre-
sented all head and wings, and who, holy ihough
they be, have one characteristic of hell, as de-
scribed in the sacred writings.

Editor-in-chief. — Now that you are in our
party, remember that you have no business to
think for yourself, sir. We'll do all that for you.

George. — I am too happy to fight on that
argument. Come, Angelina, and let us seek to
realize the unexpected turn events have taken.

Angelina. — George, how happily everything
has turned out ! May the union between your
honest father and the party of purity be sym-
bolical of ours {advancing to the footlights).

Nay, do not wonder that both hurled us to perdi'tion,

For our policy undoubtedly was — coalition.

Nor could he or I be said to be

Impartial — since each was parti-pri?.

Can we be harsh on parties — one or both.

That to coalesce — they were nothing loth ?

Yet as so ruthlessly young hearts they'd crush,

Ere on one side a factious straw they'd brush.

The sad suspicion will force itself unbidden

That by both parties country's ovorridden.