Entered, accordingto Act of CongreKP, in the yearlE""^ bv GiionoK I
Librurioa of Congress, at tVasliiuicton.
M. Bakei:, in the Office of the
SPENCER’S UNIVERSAL STAGE.
Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public
or Private Performance. Containing a full description of all
the necessary Stage liusiness.
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PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. No Plays exchanged.
ILiOSt ill liondon. A Drama in
Three Acts. 0 Male, 4 Female char-
acters.
Kicliolag Flam. A Comedy in Two
Acts. Jly J. 11. Buckstone. 6 Male,
3 Female cliaracters.
Tlie Welsli <;iiT. A Comedy in
One Act. By Mrs. Planclie. 3 Male,
2 Female characters.
Farce in One Act.
4 Male, 2 Female
John Wopps. A
By W'. E. Suter
characters.
The Turkish Bath. A Farce in
One Act. By Montague Williams
and F. C. Burnaud. 0 Male, 1 Fe-
male character.
The Two Puddifoots. A Farce
in One Act. By J. IM. Morton. 3
lilale, 3 Female characters.
Old Honesty. A Comic Drama in
Two Acts. By J. M. jMortou. 6
Male, 2 Female characters.
Two Gentlemen in a Fix. A
Farce in One Act. By W. E. Suter.
2 Male characters.
Sniashin^ton Goit. A Farce in
One Act. 'By T. J. Williams. 5 Male,
3 Female characters.
Two Heads Better thanOne. A
Farce in One Act. By Lenox Horne.
4 iilale, 1 Female character.
John Hohbs. A Farce in One Act.
Bv' J. iM. jNlortou. 6 Male, 2 J’emale
characters.
12.
The Hanghter of the Regi-
ment. A Drama in Two Acts. By
Edward Fitzball. 0 Mate, 2 Female
characters.
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15.
Aunt Charlotte’s Maid. A Farce
in One Act. By J. JI. Morton. 3
Male, 3 Female characters.
Brother Bill and Me. A Farce in
One Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 Male,
3 Female cliaracters.
Bone on Both Sides. A Farce in
thi Act. By J. ]M. Morton. 3
Mule, 2 Female characters.
.T>\inducketty’s Picnic. A Farce
in One Act. By T. J. Williams. 6
— ' Male, 3 Female cliaracters.
17. I’ve written to Browne. A Farce
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Male, 3 Female characters.
18.
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27.
28.
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30.
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32-
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34.
35.
Lending a Hand. A Farce in One
Act. By G. A. A’Bcckct. 3 Mai ',
2 Female eliaracters.
My Precious Betsy. A Farce in
One Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 Male,
4 Female characters.
uo Act. By Charles Sel- ^ ^
?, 2 Female characters.
My Ti«.rn Next. A Farce in One Act.
By T. J. M’illiams. 4 Male, 3 Fe-
male ciia- ters.
Nine PozrA i of the Law. A Com- ^ ^
cdy in 'One Act. By Tom Taylor.
4 Male, 3 l emale characters. i ^
The Phantom — .-!-<■« o* a ®
Farce in Ouo
by. 3 Male,
Handelions Hodges. A Farce in
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Male, 2 Female characters.
A Slice of Luck. A Farce in One
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Female characters.
Alw'ays Intended. A Comedy in
One Act. By Horace Wigan. 3
IMale, 3 Female characters.
A Bull in a China Shoji. A Com- ^
edy in Two Acts. By Charles l\Iat
thews. G Male, 4 Female characters.
Another Glass. A Drama in One
Act. By Thomas Morton. G Male,
3 Female characters.
BoAvled Out, A Farce in One Act.
By 11. T. Craven. 4 Male, 3 Female
characters.
Cousin Tom. A Commedietta in
One Act. By George Koberts. 3
Male, 2 Female characters.
Sarah’s Young Man. A Farce in
One Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 3Iale,
3 Female characters.
Hit Him, He has No Friends.
A Farce in One Act. By E. Yates
and ]Sf. H. Harrington. 7 Jilale, 3
Female characters.
The Christening. A Farce in One
Act. By J. B. Buckstouc. 5 Male
G Female characters.
A Race for a IVidoAv. A Farce
in One Act. By Thomas J. Wil-
liams. 5 jMale, 4 Female characters.
Y’’our T,<ife’s in Hanger. A Farce
in One Act. By J. M. Jlorton. 3
Male, 3 Female characters.
True unto Heath. A Dr.ama in
Two Acts. By J. Sheridan Knowles
G Male, 2 Female characters.
uC'OO DO OQOQ COCO'
i
LITTLE BROWN JUG.
7
f
BY THE AUrnOTl of
■* Sj'Ivia’s Sokliei’; ” “Once on a Timo;” “Down by the .‘?ca; ” “Bread on fha
Wators;” “The Last Loaf;” “Stand by the Flaj;;” “The Tempter;” “A
Drop Too Much,-*’ “ We’re All Teetotaller.s;” “A Little Jlore Cider; ”
“Thirty Minutes for Ivefrcslnncihs;” “Wanted, a Jlalo Cook;” “A
Sea of Troubles;” “ Freedom of the Press; ” “A Close Shave;”
“ The Great Elixir;” “ The Man with the Demijohn ;” “ Mew
Brooms Sweep Clean;” “Humors of the Strike;" “My
A’ncie the Captain;” “The Greatest Plague in Life;”
“ l\o Cure, Mo Pay;” “ The Grecian Bend ;” “ The
War of the Roses ;” “ Lightheart’s ITlgrimagc ;”
“The Sculptor’s Triumph;” “Too Late for
the Train;” “ Snow - 15ound ; ” “The
//
/
r
BOSTON:
GEO. M. BAKER & CO.
149 Washington Street.
Entered, accordino^ to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,
By GEOBGE 31. J5AKER,
In the OfEce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Stereotyped at the is^ston Stereotype Foundry,
19 Spring Lane.
THE LITTI.E BROWN JUG
A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.
CHARACTERS.
John Nutter, a Shoemaker.
Will Nutter, his Son.
A
Ned Hartshorn, his Apprentice.
Henry Douglas, a Spendthrift.
Jarius Jordan, a Yankee Speculator.
Hannah Nutter, John’s Wife.
Mary Nutter, Jolm’s Daughter.
Sally Peeslee, Yankee Help.
COSTUMES.
John. Act 1, Bald, gray wig, gray side whiskers, dark pants,
colored shirt, sleeves rolled up, leather hpron. Act 2, Drab
clothes, calico dressing gown. Act 3, same as Act 2.
Will. Act 1, Dark pants, colored shirt, sleeves rolled up,
leatlier apron, short coat to put on. Act 2, Rusty velvet coat,
flaming necktie, dark pants and vest, gold chain, jockey cap,
a-il soiled and worn. Act 3, Neat and tasty dress.
Ned. Act 1, About the same as Will's. Act 2, Dark pants,
white shirt, with black tie, dressing-gown. Act 3, Neat busi-
ness suit.
6
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Douglas. Fashionable dress for each act. Liberal display
of jewelry. Kids, hat, and cane.
Jarius. Act 1, Kusty dark pants, very sliort, swallow-tailed blue
coat, long red hair, shocking bad hat. unblacked boots. Act
2 and 3, Good business suits and hats, neatly arranged hair,
polished boots, dress not dandified, but neat and substantial.
Hannah. Act 1 and 2, Plain calico dresses. Act 3, white dress.
Mara% Act 1, Red or brown dress, white collar, neat apron,
sleeves rolled up. Act 2, Figured muslin. Act 3, White.
Salla'. Act 1, Calico dress, white collar and cuffs, bonnet or
hat. Acts 2 and 3, Neat calico or muslin.
Act 1. Scene. — Nutter’s Shop. Door, c., open, l.
of door, against flat, shoemaheds bench, on which sits
Nutter, at luorJc. Bench, r., on which Ned PIarts-
iiORN is at work. Bench, L., on luhich Will Nutter
is at work. Jarius Jordan seated on a block, r. c.,
with his hat on, whittling, luith a stick and large jack-
knife.
John. Wal, neow, Jarius, depend upon it, there’s
nothin’ like a stiddy, in-door-work life to give a man
position in the world. Yeou city fellers may do all
the schemin’ yeou like ; but Avheu the time comes for
action, it’s the farmers and the shoemakers that find the
bone and sinew to keep the world a joggin, Avhelher in
provisions or politics. You peddle, and we provide ; you
scheme, and we vote. My graiidsir Avas a shoemaker,
so was my daddy, so am I, and I mean that my boy
AVill, there, shall foller in the footsteps of his father.
P’raps ’tain’t what you might call a high calling ; but
boots and shoes, laps and patches, are always wanted, and
THE LITTLE BROWN JITG.
7
will be jest as long as gincration succeeds gineration ;
and -when you’ve got a trade like mine, p’raps you can’t
hoard up much money, but you’ve got a sure hold on the
staff of life.
Jarhis. Jes’ so, John, jes’ so; that’s mighty good
argifying, if a feller critter hain’t got no soul above peg-
gin’ souls. But that air Will of yourn has got the city
fever the wust kind. He’s hankering for a chance to try
his fortune among the money-catchers. Consarn it, give
the boy a chance. There’s no hay-seed in his hair.
JVill. That’s right, Jarius ; peg away. I never shall
take kindly to this work. Hammer and sew, patch and
peg. Bah ! I’m tired of it ! It’s so awful slow ! I want
to see the world, rub elbows with bustling fellows, set my
wits at work, use my tongue, wrestle with sharp ones for
the best end of a bargain. That’s life !
Jarius. Jes’ so. You’re a lively young colt — you
are. It’s a shame you can’t have a prance in the city. .
John. Yes ; you’re a pretty chap' to set a lad’s head
a whizzing — you are, Jarius Jordan. You’ve been
everything by turn, and nothing long.
Jarius., Jes’ so, John, jes so. But I calkilate that
•with every turn I’ve, give myself a li’istin tlie world, any-
how. I’ve peddled tin ware, wooden ware, hardware,
everywhere. I’ve swapped horses, traded in cattle, druv
hogs, and raised poultry. I’ve invented cotton.glns, reap-
ers, and mpwers, cider presses and match safes, travelled
with pictures, poetry books, stationery, and Bibles. I’ve
dug gold, mined copper, and bored ile ; fit Ingins, Mexi-
cans, and sesesh ; kept school, led a choir, taught singing-
school, been a deacon in regular standing. I’ve been a
8
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
printer, a book-binder, a counter-jumper, and an insur-
ance agent, and other things too numerous to mention.
There’s three things I never took a hand in — swearin’,
lyin’, and drinkin’. I’ve got a clean conscience and a
bank-book full of figgcrs. I despise meanness, hate
misers, and am down on rascality like all possessed. So,
you see, John, with all my rollmg, I’ve gathered some
moss, and am none the wuss for it.
Will. No, indeed. There’s not a better fellow living
than Jarius Jordan.
Jarius. O, git eout ! Don’t yeoii go to tootin’ the
horn.
Ned. It’s the truth. ’T would have been a hard win-
ter for widow Black, but for the kind care Jarius Jordan
bestowed upon her.
Jarius. Sho ! Don’t you tell tales out of school,
young feller.
• Will. Then there’s old Pearson. Who’d have kept
him out of the poor-house, when he broke his leg, if Ja-
rius Jordan hadn’t stepped in, housed him all winter, and
paid the doctor’s bill?
Jarius. O, go along! D’ye want to spile my com-
plexion? Now, John, you just give Will a chance.
■ You’ll never regret it.
• John. I tell you, what’s good enough for the old man
is good enough for the boy. I’ll never give my consent
to his going into the city — never. I’m not going to send
my boy into that sink of iniquity, to be overcome by
temptation. So you jest shut up, Jarius. I’ve got an
awful temper, and if you rile me, I won’t answer for the
consequences.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
9
Jarius. Jes’ so. But, speaking of temptations —
Enter Hannah, l., with a small brown jug.
Hannah. Here, father, here’s your “ ’leven o’clock.”
John. {Dropping his work., and taking the jug.) Ah,
that’s good.
Hannah. Why, law sakes, Mr. Jerden! * How do you
do ? The sight of you’s good for sore eyes.
Jarius. Thank you, marm. I’m pretty well, consid-
erin’. Hope you’re hearty.
Hannah. Me? Sakes alive ! I never had an ache
or a pain in my life, and I’m goin’ on for sixty. There’s
nothin’ like good, wholesome work to keep off sickness.
Jarius. Jes so, Mrs. Nutter.
A
Rubbin’ and scrubbin’
Gives rust a drubbin’.”
John. {After a long jndl at the jug.) Ah, that’s good !
The raal Holland, sweetened to taste, and rousing hot!
Take a pull, Jarius?
Jarius. No, I thank ye.
John: {Takes a drink.) Ah! Here, Will. {Passes
jug to Will, who grasps it eagerly.^ and drinks.)
Jarius. Sho ! Yeou ain’t a going to drink that stuff!
Will. Stuff? Hullo !
Jolm. Stuff? Hear the critter !
Hannah. Stuff, indeed ! When I mixed it myself,
and in the little brown jug, that's been in the family
years and years !
* Hannah and Sally should follow this pronunciation.
10
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Jarius. Jes’ so. The jug is a relic?
Hannah. Yes, iudeed ; and we wouldn’t part with it
for the world. It’s been handed down from father to
son ever since the first Nutter landed in America.
John. And used year in and year out. It’s seasoned
with the good grog of live generations.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Seen some tight times, I reckon.
Come, Ned, it’s your turn.
Ned. No, I thank you. I never drink.
Will. {Drinks.) No? I stand his watch.
Jarius. Jes’ so. So Ned don’t like it, hey?
Ned. Ned never tasted it, Mr. Jordan. My poor
mother’s last request was that' I should never touch it.
Don’t you think a mother’s last request should be sa-
cred ?
*
Jarius. Don’t I? As sacred as the family Bible.
Ned. As sacred as the memory of the loved and lost,
I had a good mother, Mr. Jordan.
Jarius. Jes so. You show it.
Hannah. Yes, indeed ; a poor, hard-working woman
was Marcy Hartshorn : the best washer and ironer in the
place ; and such a cook ! Her pies would make your
mouth water. And turnovers ! the young ones would
cry for them. O, dear! such a pity she threw herself
away on that drunken sot — Jim Hartshorn. Why,, when
he died —
John. Hush, mother, hush I
Hannah. Dear me ! I forgot. But it always makes
me mad when I think — {sniffs). Bless me I What’s
that? {Sniffs.) 1 smell something.
Jarius. Jes’ so — gin and sugar.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
11
Hannah. It’s my pies a-burniug, as sure as I live !
And I here gossiping. O, dear ! there’s a whole oven-
ful spoiled hy my neglect ! '[AxzY, l.
John. Don’t mind her, Ned. She didn’t mean to hurt
your feelings. She’d do anytliing in the world for you.
Ned. I know she would. Heaven hless her ! You
see, Mr. Jordan, liquor has left a stain on my family
,narae ; and I’m not likely to he friendly with it.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Stick to the last request, young fel-
ler, and you’ll wipe it out. And if ever you want a
friend, don't forget the undersigned, Jarius Jordan, for
you’ll hnd him on hand, like a picked-up dinner.
John. There ; that job’s done. Here, Will, drop that ‘
jug. It’s a leetle strong to-day. Put ou'your coat, and
taku these shoes to Mrs. Douglas.
Will. {Rises ivhile speaking, takes off apron, puts on-*
float and hat, sets the jug on the floor beside John Nut-
ter’s bench.) That’s just the job for me. Hen Douglas
sent me word he w’auted to see me.. So I can kill two
birds ‘svith one stone. {Takes shoes.) The Holland is a
leetle strong, and no mistake. [^TJxit, c.
Jarius. See here, John Nutter, I’m a b’ilin’ and a
b’ilin’, an’ if I don’t let off steam, there’ll be a case of
spontaneous combustion in my in’ards. You’re a good
deal older than J am ; but w’e’ve been good friends ever
since I was knee high to a woodchuck ; so, hear me fust,
and lick me arterwards, if you don’t like it. Here you’ve
been a talking about the temptations of the city, and put-
ting that inter your boy’s mouth that will work his etarnal
destruction! Your little brown jug will be his evil .
genius. Mind what I say. He hankers arter it now ;
12
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
and you, here in the country, are tempting liim, and
making an appetite tliat’ll eat -him up soul and body.
And now he’s off to meet that air Douglas, who always
has a bottle at his elbow. lie’s a dangerous chap.
John. Much you know about it. He’s AVill’s friend.
He’s taken a shine to him, and, if I’d say the word, would
give him a great lift in the city. He’s a well-meaning
chap, that Douglas. He’s got a rich father, and need not
work. He’s well edicated, and has got good manners.
Will’s all the better for being in company with such a man.
As for the little brown 'jug, don’t abuse that. It never
did me any harm, and 1 was as young as Will when I
took my first pull at it. So, don’t you meddle, Jarius.
When I find things going wrong in my family, I’ll take
’em in hand myself.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Look here, John. I’ve taken a
fancy to that boy myself. Give me his time, and I’ll
put in your hand, to-day, five hundred dollars, and guar-
antee you a thousand more, if I don’t make a man of him
when he’s twenty-one. - .
John. (Bising.) You can’t have him. I’ve just had
enough of your meddling. If I wanted him to go, I’d
make terms with Mr. Douglas, and not you. He shall
never go with my leave ; and he knows that if he goes
without, he never returns here. You’re pretty flush with
your money, Jarius, but you haven’t enough to buy
that boy’s time, nor logic enough, sharp as you think
yourself, to turn my purpose. l.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Stubborn as a mule. Douglas will
get that boy in spite of thunder. I do hate to see that
young feller go to the dogs ; as he’s sure to do if some-
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
1 ^
lo
thing don’t hinder. lie’s jest the chap to go into Stin-
son’s good graces, and gain a complete knowledge of
agricultural implements in his concern, and. jest the lad
to keep a sharp eye on my interest in the patent reaper.
I do liate to get eucred ; but old Nutter’s a hard lot
when he gets his back up.
Enter Sally, c.
Sally. Goodness gracious ! If I’ve been here once,
I’ve been here twenty times for Mrs. Douglas’s shoes,
and she ravin’ distracted about ’em ! Such a dawdlin’
set as you shoemakers are! — Sakes, Mr. Jerden, heow
dew yeou dew? I didn’t see yeou before.
Jarius. (^On her entrance y ids up his knife takes of
his hat., and tries to smooth his hair., and appears very
sheepish and awkward while she remains.) Jes’ so. Miss
Iligg ins ; business first, and pleasure arterwards.
Ned. Don’t fret about the shoes, Sally. Will has just
taken them to the house.
Sally. Well, thauk goodness, that’s settled.
Jarius. Heow’s yeour inarm. Miss Peeslee?
Sally. Rather peaked, Mr. Jerden ; and jest when I
ought to be at home, I’m kept at the big house and worked
like a dog. Such a set of cross-grained folks you never
did see. Old Mr. Douglas as proud and stiff as a gran-
nydear, Mrs. Douglas frettin’ and worryin’ the livelong
day about nothin’, and that good-for-notliiu’ Hen of theirs
a carry in’ on all sorts of didos. He and the old geaile-
mau had an awful quarrel this moruiu’. Somehow Mr.
Douglas got it into his head that Hen was sparking Mary
14
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Nutter in airnest. Don’t believe such a notion ever en-
tered the feller’s head afore. He’s only flirtin’ with her,
same as he has with twenty other girls ; but, to spite the
old man, he swore — O, awful! — he’d marry her, if he
was turned out of doors for it.
Ned. He marry our Mary !
Sally. Why not? He’s none too good for her.
Ned. She’s too good for him.
_ Sally. Why, Ned, you ain’t sweet on her — are
you?
Ned. Me ? I should not dare. But he’s a worthless
spendthrift, thinks only of his own pleasure, regardless
of others’ feelings, selfish, dissipated, cunning, and crafty.
He marry Mary 1 Heaven forbid I
Jarius. Jes’ so. He cuts a mighty big swell on an
awful small capital.
Sally. He’s good looking, and that goes a long way
Avith girls. I don’t think Mary ivould break her heart
if she knew she was to be his ivife.
Ned. No ; but, once i-n his possession, he would break
it. Many whispers of his wild life in the city have been
blown to our ears.
Sally. He’s a communion merchant — ain’t he?
Ned. A commission merchant, Sally.
Jarius. Jes’ so. I’ve heard of him. He’s got a
a shingle, a desk, and a chair. The shingle Inings at
the door ; he sits in the chair ctnd watches his le»s on
the desk, through tobacco smoke ; and that’s the extent
of his business.
Sally. He ivants to take Will Nutter off there, to
learn the business.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
15
Jarius. Jes’ so. And, with the edication he’s receiv-
ing here, he’ll make a capital assistant in the smoking de-
partment.
Sally. Land sakes ! I can’t stop here spinning shop
yarn. Good by. Nothing new — is there? I haven’t
been out of the house for a week.
Jarms. Nothing special. Miss Peeslee. Harris has
lost the suit and the cow.
Sally. I want to know !
Jarius. Mrs. Prime as buried her husband last week ;
has gone to Jarsey to modify her grief.
Sally. Poor Mrs. Prime ! How I pity her !
Jarius. Jes’ so. She lost a prime husband, that’s a
fact. He was the best feller on a fishing frolic vou
ever see. Pai’sou Lucas has resigned, and they do say
the parish is resigned to his resigning, too. Tliey’ve got
a new bell-rope onto the second parish. Mrs. Jones’s^
expectations has turned out a bouncing boy —
Sally. What! another?
Jarius. That’s what they say. Molly Moses had a
candy scrape last night, and Si Jones went home with his
hair full. Bunsen has got a new lot of calicoes — prime
ones, fast colors. And Joe Britton has killed his hog.
But there’s no news.
Sally. No weddin’, no nothin’? I don’t hear anythin’
about your marriage, Mr. Jerden.
Jarius. Don’t you? Well, that’s queer. I ben about
it every time I come home. But it’s all talk and no cider.
No, Miss Peeslee, I’m an unplucked apple on the tree
of life. But, to return the compliment, 1 don’t hear nothin’
■’bout your gittiu’ spliced.
16
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Sally. Me? I guess not. It’s time enough to think
about that when mother is able lo take care of herself.
I won’t say I haven’t had a chance, Mr. Jerden ; *but my
first duty is to her ; and I mean to work my fingers to
the bone, if need be, tliat the old home may shelter her
as long as she lives.
Jarius. Jes’ so. So you gave Si Slocum the mitten?
Sally. Yes, I did, — the worthless scamp !
Jarius. Then Deacon Sassafras wanted you to take
the place of his late departed — didn’t he?
Sally, He wanted a drudge, the mean old skinflint !
Jarius. Why, he’s rich — the deacon is.
Sally. But awful mean. I don’t see how they trust
him up behind the singing-seats with the contribution
box Sundays. T wouldn’t.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Josh Higgins was. kinder smitten
^oue time — hey, Miss Peeslee.
- Sally. Well, p’raps he was, and p’raps he wasn’t. He
was too much smitten with whiskey for me.
Jarius. Jes' so. Well, Sally — Miss Peeslee — you’re
a smart gal ; and if I want so pesky busy with my new
reaper — I’d — I’d —
Sally. Well, what would you do, Mr. Jerden?
Jarius. I’d jest look round and pick out a smart hus-
band for you.
Sally. You needn’t trouble yourself, Mr. Jerden. I
can pick for myself when I git ready. Better be lookin’
out for yourself. You do want slicking up, and a wife
would soon reduce that crop of hair to its proper dimen-
sions, mend that hole in your elbow, iron out that ruf-
fled, seedy-looking hat, and find a blacking-brush for
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
17
those rusty boots. If I wasn’t so busy, Jarius — Mr.
Jerden — I’d look round and find you a wife, for you do
need one awfully. \_Exit^ o.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Neow there’s a I’a! I’ve been ban-
kerin’ arter for five years, and never so niuch as dared
ask her to lecter or singiu’-seliool. Consarn it, Jarius,
you’re a mealy-mouthed critter among the gals, smart as
you are at tradin’ and swappiu’. It’s no sorter use ; the
minute that gal comes a-uear me, there’s a sinkin’ at my
stomach that no end of vittles can’t fill up. Smart?
Why, she beats all nater ; and I kinder think she likes
me, and gin those chaps the go-by on my account. Come,
come, Jarius, spunk up! Don’t be a fool! Say the
word, and she’s yourn for better or for wus. I’ll put
arter her, and spit it out to once. (^Goes to door, c.)
Enter Sally, c.
' Sally. Here, Ned ; I forgot to pay for the boots.
^ Gives money.)
Ned. One dollar. All right. Thank you, Sally.
Sally. Was you going my way, Mr. Jerden?
Jarius. Yes — no — no. I was going to see Joe
Bristles’ hog.
Sally. O, yes. “ Birds of a feather,” you know.
\_Exit, c. to R.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Consarn it, Jarius, you are a hog,
and no mistake. [_Exit c. to l.
Ned. Hen Douglas marry Mary Nutter ! O, Heaven
forbid ! What a dear good girl she is ! The sound of
her voice, as she merrily sings at her work, sets my ham-
mer flying glibly, and my heart beating quickly, too.
2
18
THE LITTLE BROWN JUO.
’Twill be called a good match, for he has money, and she
is the most capable girl in the place. She would grace
the.handscmest house that his money could furnish. But
could he make her happy? Pie, with his foppish airs,
his love of display, delight in reckless dissipation ! No,
•
no. lie would tire of her in a week, and then, with some
new fancy luring him, turn coldly from her, perhaps
abuse her, and break her heart. Break her heart ! O,
Mary, Mary ! For the first time in my life I long for
wealth, for then I should have the power to enter the
fiehl, and, if I could not win you for myself, at least save
you from a heartless man.
Mary. {^Outside., l., sings.)
“ Come, arouse thee, arouse thee,
My merry Swiss maid;
Take thy pail, and to labor away.”
Enter, l., with pail.
Ah, Ned, all alone, and still at Avork ? The old adage
Avill never do for you — “ When the cat’s away, the mice
Avill play.” ^
Ned. No, indeed, Mary. I like work too well to
slight it when the master’s eye is not upon me. It’s such
a jolly companion ! With every peg I drive away
poverty ; with every punch of my awl I see success ;
Avith every pull of the threads I gain a long pull and a
strong pull up the ladder of life. O, Avork is a man’s
best fj-iend, and Avhen he turns his back upon that, he
richly deserves what he is sure to get — a gloomy life and
a nameless grave.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
19
Mary. 'Well done, Ned !
“ With bench for horse, and awl for lance,
Througli stubborn leather you gayly prance;
Shouting your war-cry, with cheery ring,
‘ Make way, make way for the shoemaker king ! ’ ”
Ked. Mary, Mary, don’t laugh at me !
Mary. Laugh at you? No, indeed; not I. You
were philosophical, so I, to keep you company, became
poetical. But you’re right, Ned, as you always are.
Work has been your best friend, for it has enabled all
of us to find in you its best companion — merit.
Ned. Ah ! thank you, Mary. If you only knew how
proud I feel to hear you praise me !
Mary. If I did? Why, then, I suppose I should
feel it my. duty to be silent. So don’t let me know it.
Good by.
Ned. Where are you going?
Mary. To the well for water.
Ned. No; I’ll go for you. {Jumping up.) Give me
the pail.
3Iary. Thank you. {Gives pail. Ned goes to door.)
I say, Ned, ain’t you afraid to leave your awl behind?
Ned. {At door.) Mary, you’re laughing at me. —
{Aside.) She little knows I leave my all — my heart —
behind. [^Exit, l.
Mary. {Sits 07i bench.) Dear fellow ! What a shame
his father turned out so bad ! And no mother to care
for liim ! {Takes up lapstone and strap.) I wonder
what kind of a shoemaker I should make ! {Takes awl.)
Dear me, I’ve pricked my finger ! Where’s the hammer?
20
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
O, here it is. I don’t believe it’s very hard work to mend
a shoe. As he is doing my work, I should be 4oing his.
I wonder where he left off!
Enter Douglas, c.
Douglas. Beautiful, beautiful !
“ She had a hammer in her hand,
The day when first we met.”
Mary. {Jmnjnng up ) Mr. Douglas !
Douglas. Ah, Mary, I’ve caught you cobbling.
Mary. No, you haven’t, for I hadn’t commenced.
Douglas. So, so, the pretty Mary has turned cobbler !
Mary. The pretty Mary has done nothing of the
kind. She was only amusing herself while waiting —
Douglas. For me — her adorer, who languishes in her
absence, and whose heart beats with rapture af sight of
her beautiful face.
Mary. Don’t, Henry, be so sentimental. You know
I don’t like it’. Why not say, plain and plump, “ I’m
glad to see you ! ” instead of all that palaver about lan-
guish and heart-beats? You know I don’t like it.
Douglas. O, you don’t ? Then hereafter this raptur-
ous —
Mary. Henry !
Douglas. Mary, I’ve done. But what in the world
were you doing on that dirty bench ?
Mary. Well, I never! Dirty, indeed I Sit down
there at once !
Douglas. AYhat ! I? You’re joking.
Mary. Very well, if you don’t choose to obey me, I’m
off to my wmrk. {Going, l.)
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
21
Douglas. O, very M’el], if you mean it. (^Sits on
hench.)
3Iary. Now, Henry, I’ve made a vow that I will
never marry a man who cannot mend a shoe. I’ve just
made it. And if you liave any expectation of making
me your wife, the sooner you learn the trade the better.
Douglas. Well, that’s a capital joke, and, egad, I’ll
humor it. So here goes. ( Takes up lapstone. Drops it
on his toes.) O, murder ! I’ve smashed my toe !
3Iary. No matter. Try again.
Douglas. To smash another? No, I thank you.
{Puts lapstone in lap.) There, that’s all right. {Takes
up shoe.^ puts strap over it.) How’s that?
3Iary. Beautiful. You were born to be a shoe-
maker.
Douglas. I. hope not. {Takes pegs and hammer.)
Now, to drive my first peg. {Strikes his fingers. Ned
appears at doorway ivith pail.) O, murder ! I’ve
smashed my thumb !
Ned. Served you right, meddler.
Douglas. {Starts up.) Sir! What’s that? .
Ned. The truth. You’re meddling with my tools ;
and if ycru’re not out of this place in three seconds, I’ll
wallop you.
3[ary. O, Ned, Ned ! it’s all my fault. I set him to
work.
Ned. O, indeed I That’s quite another matter. But
he can’t stay on my bench.
Douglas. If you’re not more civil, you won’t stay on
it long. Mind that. Master Ned.
Ned. What d’ye mean?
22
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Mary, Now, don’t quarrel. Bring the pail in for me,
Ned. — Mr. Douglas, I’ll give you a lesson another
time. “ L.
Ned. Lesson, indeed ! You work with your white
hands ! Bah, you couldn’t earn your salt ! \_Exit,, L.
Douglas, Confound that fellow, he puts on more airs
than a nabob ! He’s in the way. Maiy is too fond of
him ; and lie, with that jealous glitter in his eye, too
much in love with her for my comfort. He must be got
rid of. Pshaw, Douglas ! What chance could a poor
journeyman shoemaker have with the lady of your
choice? Rich, accomplished, by no means a bad-looking
fellow, the whole lamily would be delighted to gain so
distinguished a connection. And she, I know, looks upou
me with favor. I have only to gain the old man’s con*-,
sent. And that’s an easy matter. Still, I don’t like the
idea of this fellow’s presence. He must be got rid of.
But how ? AVill ! Ah, there’s a ready tool. I want
him in the city. There’s a little sharp practice in which
I want a second hand to work ; and Will’s the lad. If I
can only get him to pick a quarrel wdth Ned Hartshorn,
bring them to blows, and thus arouse the old man’s tem-
per, they’ll both be turned out of doors. Will would be
mine, and the other out of the way.
Will. (^Outside, Sings.)
“ My wife and I live all alone.
In the little brown house we call our own ;
She,” &c.
Enters, c., intoxicated.
Hullo, Hen! How are you. Hen? I’ve been looking
for you — I have. AYau’t at home. But the bottle was.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
23
I found it in the old spot, so I drank your health.
“ Here’s to Hen Douglas. Hip, hip, hooray ! ” Hullo,
there’s the little brown jug ! I’ll drink your health again.
Hip, liip, hooray ! {Drinks.) Isay! what’s the mat-
ter with you?
Douglas. I have been insulted. '
■ Will. Been what? Say that again. Show me the
man, woman, or child that has insulted Hen Douglas, —
hip, hip, hooray ! — and I’ll — I’ll wipe him out. Fetch ’em
on, one at a time, or all together. I’m the friend of the
oppressed — I am. Feel my muscle ! so don’t you be
afraid. Say, who’s the feller or fellerers?
Douglas. Fellow, indeed 1 That miserable whelp, Ned
Hartshorn, here in this place, and in the presence of
your sister. But I’ve done with you all. I’ll not be dis-
graced by such associates. Good by. Will. You Hike,
and if ever you get into trouble, come to me in the city,
and I’ll stand your friend.
Will. Say ! hold on ! Let’s settle this thing. You
shall have satisfaction. If Ned Hartshorn has dared to
insult my friend, — my friend, Hen Douglas ; hip, hip,
hooray ! — I’ll trounce him. Now you just wait and see
me do it. Going to the city? All right. I’ll go witli
you, spite of the old man.
Douglas. No, no, dont pick a quarrel on my account.
Perhaps he didn’t mean to insult me. Perhaps he was
blinded by his love for your sister.
Will, What? Ned Hartshorn in love with my sister I
I’ll trounce him for that. Now you see me do it. Insult
my friend, and in love with my sister ! O, I’ll lix him !
Doi glas. Hush I Plere he is. .
24
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Enter Ned, l.
Ned. Ah, Will, back again?
Will. Ay, back again, you sneaking thief!
Ned. How, W^ill? You forget yourself.
Will. Indeed 1 You forgot yourself when you made
'love to my sister and insulted my friend, you mean, cou-
temptible sneak !
Ned. Will, you’ve been drinking.
Will. (^Throws off his coat.) You’re right. I’ve
just enough liquid lightning in my hide to rouse my
manhood. You’ve insulted my friend. Beg his pardon
at once.
Ned. I shall do nothing of the kind. If he has told
you I insulted him, he must have told you, also, that I
made love to your sister ; and he’s a liar.
Douglas. Liar? This to me?
Ned. Ay, to you. ’Tis you who have turned Will’s
head, you who have tempted him to drink, you who, with
a lying tongue, now seek to make us quarrel. Bah 1
you’re a coward ! You dare not face me yourself ; you
dare not ask me to beg your pardon ; for, if you did, you
know I’d knock you down quicker than I did when you
insulted Patty Moore.
Will. But I dare, and mean you shall. So, solemn,
pious, teniperate Ned Hartshorn, obey at once !
Ned. WTll, I’d do anything in reason to oblige you.
But I can’t do that.
Will. Then I’ll thrash you within an inch of your
life.
Ned. O no, you won’t. Will.
Will. I say I wi^l, sneak, coward, son of a drunkard I
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
25
Ned. Ccireful, Will, careful !
Will. Come on. My blood’s up. If you won’t apol-
ogize, you must light.
Ned. Keep off! keep off, I say ! You’ll get hurt.
Will. Shall I? I’ll risk it. (^They stritggle. Ked
• throws Will across stage. He falls on bench., l.)
Douglas. That won’t do. [Seizes jug., steps up behind
Ned, and, strikes him on the head. Jarius appears in the
door, c.)
Ned. O, my head, my head ! [Staggers, and falls
on bench, r.)
Jarius. Jes’ so. [Disappears.)
' Douglas. [Runs to Will, and places the jug in his
hand.) Are you hurt. Will?
Will. Hurt? No. Let me come at him. Let me —
Douglas. No, no. You have nearly killed him Avith
the jug.
Will. The jug?
Douglas. Yes ; you seized it, and struck him before
I could interfei’e.
Will. Did I? Then m give him another.
Enter John, l.
John. What’s going on here ? Fighting? Ned hurt?
Who has done this?
Enter Jarius, c. ,
Jarius. [Goes to Ned.) The boy’s senseless. Wa-
ter, water ! quick ! [Enter Mary, l.) Mary, bring
water I quick4 Ned’s hurt.
Mary. Ned hurt? O, mercy!
John. Who struck him?
[Exit, l.
2G
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Douglas. Will, but quite accidentally.- You see, Ned
provoked him, and, quite accidentally —
Will. No such thing. Don’t play sneak, Hen. I did
it, old man, to uphold the honor of the family.
John. Will Nutter, you’re drunk.
Will. Drunk yourself, you old fool. 0, I ain’t afraid *
of you. I’ve been tied to your leather apron long
enough. Now I’m going to see the world. D’ye hear
that, old man? No more pegs for me. You can have
the little brown jug to yourself now. I’ve had a taste
of something better — something stronger^ It’s roused
the man in me. So I’m otF. Good by.
Enter Mary, l. leader. She runs to Ned, and Jarius
and she try to revive Ned.
John. Stop, Will Nutter. If you leave this place
now, you can never return to it.
Will. That’s all right — just the sort. Don’t want to
see it again. Hope you’ll live long and prosper, and,
when you die, leave a nice little fortune to yours, truly.
Good by.
Douglas. Don’t mind him, sir. I’ll take care of him.
You see how he is. Come, Will. (^Drags him to the
door., C.)
Will. I say, old man, I’m off to fame and fortune.
John. Fame and fortune? Disgrace and infamy!
Will, I’ll give you one more chance. Return to your
bench, and all shall be forgotten. Leave this place now,
and its doors shall never be opened to you again, though
you were dying on the doorstep. Choose now, and
choose quickly.
THE LITTLE BROATN JUG.
27
Will. Quick enough. I’m off.
John. Then go ; and, as you desert me, may you,
in turn, be deserted. May all your plans fail you,
your enterprises prove unsuccessful, poverty and ruin dog
your steps, and life-be to you a failure and a burden.
Away, and bear with you a father’s bitter, bitter —
Mary. {^Running to him., and 'putting her arms around
his neck.) No, father, don’t say tliat, don’t say that !
Poor boy, his will be a bitter life without his father’s
curse.
TABLEAU.
ILL in door, c., his left arm raised defiantly. Douglas
has left hand on Will’s shoulder, his right hand in
W ill’s right, dragging him out. Jakius bending over
Ned, r. John, l., with right hand raised; Mary,
with her arms about his neck, looking into his face.
Slow curtain.
ACT S E C O ND .
Scene. — Room in Nutter’s House. Lounge, r., on
which Ned is lying asleep. Small table near lounge,
at which Mary is seated, sewing. Lamp on table.
Arm-chair, l. c. Table luith plants, R. corner, back;
if scenery is used, window in fiat, R. C. Door, c.,
shut. Moonlight through window. Sally, asleep in
arm-chair, l. C.
Mary. Poor fellow, he’s asleep at last. What a ter-
rible year it has been for him ! That cruel blow stretched
him on a bed of sickness, from which we feared he never
28
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
would rise. Only a good coustitutioa and careful nnrs-
iiiff have saved him from death, and saved Wi.ii from
worse than death — the stain of murder. O, Will, if you
only knew how we have fought to save you from that,
liow we have prayed for Ned’s recovery, your heart might
be touched with remorse. Surely Henry Douglas must
have told him of his danger. He says he has. But
not a word, not a line comes from him. A whole year
has passed. We have watched and waited. Mother’s
once bright cheek has grown pale. Father, though he
says not a word, starts at every footfall. But yet no sign
of his return.
Sally. Now, Jarius, if you don’t stop, I’ll scream.
Murder, murder! (IFa/^es.) Bless my soul! Have I
been dreaming?
Alary. Yes, Sally, of Jarius.
Sally. It’s no sech thing. Leastwise, dreams go by
contraries. I thought that Jarius Jerden had his arm
around my neck, and was going to kiss me ; so I hol-
lered.
Alary. As dreams go by contraries, you wouldn’t
scream if he really had.
Sally. Y"es, I would. What do I care for Jarius Jer-
den? He’s forever pokin’ his nose in here when he
ain’t wanted. I’ll give him a piece of my mind some
dav, see if I don’t.
Alary. That will be very satisfactory to him, no
doubt, v/hen he pops the important question.
Sally. He? Jarius Jerden pop the question? He’ll
never do it. He hain’t tlie courage. He jest comes liere,
and sits and whistles, sighs and whittles, and talks about^
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
29
Squire Jones and his cattle, and sich nonsense. I’ve no
patience with him. If I w^as a man, I’d just know which
side my bread was buttered on in short order.
Hannah, (Outside, Jj.) Sally, Sally !
Sally. Yes, marm.
Hannah. (Outside, l.) Your bread’s run onto the
floor, the fire’s all out, and the cat’s in the cream. — Scat !
scat !
Sally. Dear me ! What a chapter of accidents ! And
I here dreaming ! O, these, men, these men!
\_Exit, L.
3Iary. Ah, Sally, ’twill be a happy day for you when
Jarius Jordan musters up courage enough to ask you to
be his wife. There’ll be a prompt answer on your part.
I’ll warrant. (Enter Douglas, c.) And a happy life,
which you so richly deserve, will be the sequel to this
queer wooing. Heigho !
Douglas. ( Who has crept up behind her chair.') Tliat
sigh was touching, Mary. Was it meant for me?
31ary. (Starting up.) Mr. Douglas I You here?
Douglas. Does that surprise you? Where should I
be but in the presence of her I love — of the angelic be-
ing who has promised to be my wife? ^ (Ned wakes, and,
leaning on his elhow, listens.)
hiary. -That w’as a great while ago.
Douglas. A year only. Surely you have not repented
of your promise.
3Tary. I have.
Douglas. Ho, ho ! So this is the meaning of the
coldness which I have felt creeping into our intercourse
of late — you repent your promise !
30
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Mary. Mr. Douglas, listen to me. A year ago I was
a gicltly girl, proud to be noticed by one so high in the
social spliere as you. Your attentions to me, wljile other
girls in vain sought to attract you, dazzled me, caused a
fluttering in my silly bosom, which I then thought was
love, and I gave you encouragement ; nay, I will confess
it, promised to be your wife. We were very happy here
in our family circle then — very. But, alas! trouble
came. You know how. My brother fled ; our. dear Ned
Avas struck down ; I became his nurse'; by night and by
day I watched by his couch ; and in those long hours
A\diat could I do but think, think, think? I thought of the
Avide difference in our social position, how uusuited AAm
Avere for each other — you, Avith your fine talents and rich
connections, I, a poor girl, reared to hard work, with no
knowledge of the Avorld outside our little village ; and
then I looked into my heart, and somehow, I can’t ex-
plain it, I felt there Avas no love there ; that I never could
be happy as your wife ; and so to-night I ask you to re-
lease me.
Douglas. Well, ’pon my Avord, here’s a confession I
Here’s a fine position for the heir of the Douglas name
and state. After my unremitting attentions for a year,
I am to be thrown aside, like a country bumpkin, at the
Avhim of a girl Avho don’t know her own mind ! No, no,
m
Mary, I shall not release you. You’ll think better of it
to-morrow.
Mary. Yes, better, for my resolve Avill be stronger.
Douglas. And that resolve is —
Mary. Never to marry you, Henry Douglas. It is
best AA'e have no misunderstanding now.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
31
Douglas. It is, iudeed. So, so ! While I have been
absent, my place has been taken in your heart by that
fool, Ned Hartshorn.
Mary. Mr. Douglas !
Douglas. Yes ; it’s as plain as the sun at noonday.
Stunned by a slight blow, he made that the pretext for a
long season of wasting sickness, that he might secure
your attention, that he might bill and coo in your face,
excite your compassion, and awake in your heart an an-
swer to his love. The hypocrite! With his youth and
strength, the blow he received should not have kept him
from his work a day. ’Twas a crafty trick.
Mary. Mr. Douglas !
Douglas. Ay, a crafty trick. But it shall not suc-
ceed. I have your promise ; I have your father’s con-
sent. I will not release you.
Mary. Henry Douglas, you have spoken plainly, and
you have spoken falsely. ’Tis true he who lies there
loves me. I have read it in his pleading eyes ; I have
heard it in the delirium of fever from his lips. But he
is as incapable of the meanness you would ascribe to him
as you are of an honorable thought. Shame, shame !
He has worked hard for an honest name. Poor fellow ;
’tis all he has in the world ! — and you, rich and power-
ful, seek to rob him of that.
Douglas. jMary !
Mary. Silence ! . I will not hear you. , You have at-
tacked the honor of a dear friend, dearer for the infirmity
which has fallen upon him through the instrumentality .
of one of my name. ’Tis but right I should stand forth
in his defence. Hear me. I asked you to release me
32
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
from my promise ; I gave you the reasons, good, true
reasons, which would have convinced an iionorable man.
I liave one more to give, which must convince you. I
can never be yonr wife, lor your attack has revealed
something I hardly dreamed. 1 love Ned Hartshorn as
I can never love another.
Douglas. Ila ! The truth at last ! There is no mis-
understanding now. Yonr last reason has convinced me.
Now hear one which must overpower yours, which must
convince you that I will not be trilled with. Your brother
Will and I parted company this morning.
Marrj. Will and you! What mean you? •
Douglas. Yesterday, being tlie first of the month, my
book was returned to me from the Phojuix Bank, with the
checks which I had drawn during the month. I say, which
I had drawn. I’m wrong. There was one there for two
hundred dollars, signed by a clever imitation of my name,
of which 1 had no knowledge. It. was a forgery.
Mary. A forgery ! ’Well ?
Douglas. Nay, ’twas very bad, for I found, upon in-
vestigation, it had been done by your brother.
Mary. AVill? No, no; you do not suspect him.
Douglas. I know he forged that check. This morn-
ing I charged him with it. Of course he indignantly
denied it. 1 informed him, quietly, that I had no further
need of his services. He took his hat, and departed ;
and there the matter rests. Of course I might have
called in an oilicer, and had him arrested ; but, as he was
in a fair way to become my brother-in-law, that would
have been injudicious, to say the least.
Mary. It would have killed my mother. But Will —
where is he now?
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
33
Douglas. I liaven’t the least idea. Of one thing be
certain — he will never trouble you with his presence.
His city life has not been a success. He wull not return
to boast of it. Besides, should he appear here, I must
arrest him.
Mary. You arrest him ? No, no ; that would be in-
famous.
Douglas. He is a criminal ; he has robbed me, and
squandered my money. Why should I pardon him ?
Mary. Because — because — {Aside.) O, Heavens,
I have lost the power to plead for him !
Douglas. Mary, you will think better of your resolve.
You love your brother ; he is in danger. If I but raise
my finger, disgrace and infamy are fastened upon him
forever. I would not willingly be the instrument of jus-
tice in this case. I would not rob him of liberty ; of the
opportunity to wupe out this disgrace. But you, to-night,
propose to rob me of my happiness ; to blight my life by
withholding the treasure I covet — yourself. Think you
not, in such a case, revenge is justice?
Alary. What would you have me do ?
Douglas. Fulfil your promise. Become my wife.
Alary. Still loving Ned Hartshorn?
Douglas. Love that fool ! I do not believe it. You
are too sensible a girl, Mary. No, no. When you are
my w'ife, this idle folly will be but a dream.
Alary. Yes, when I am your wife I And if I keep
my promise, my brother —
Douglas. Shall not be molested. More, I will be-
faiend him, and place him in a good position.
Alary. Indeed ! So I am to save my brother at the
3 •
84
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
cost of my love ! Henry Douglas, the trick is worthy
of you ; but it shall not move me. I love my brother.
Heaven knows ; but not even to save him from prison
would I marry one who has suffered at his hands, by con-
senting to become your wife.
Douglas. I have done. Justice must take its course.
Nay, I will not be conquered by so mean a foe. Your
father, your father, Mary, he shall decide whom he will
accept as his daughter’s liusband, — I, rich, accomplished,
of good family, or that" low, gawky clown.
Mary. Silence ! He is a brave, noble, true man, who
would scorn to stoop to the petty tricks' of the rich and
accomplished Henry Douglas. Let my father decide. I
care not. Every threat you utter but strengthens my res-
olution. Do your worst. From your arms I would tly
to his, though 1 knew poverty and toil should be our
portion.
Douglas. As you please. But I .shall not release you,
Mary Nutter. My wife you shall, you must be. You’ve
a stubborn father and a stubborn lover to fiiiht. Arm
yourself, Mary ; you Avill need all your strength, and then
— I shall win. Good night. [Exit., c.
Mary. Ah, while there is life there is hope, even in a
bad cause. {^Turns.,and sees Ned looking at her.) Why,
Ned, you awake ?
Eed. Yes, Mary. I have heard all.
Mary. What ! No, no, Ned, not all !
Ned. Yes, Mary, every word. O, it seems as though
a reviving draught had been poured through my veins,
and life, strong, healthy life was coming back to me.
Now I can speak, give utterance to that vvdiich you have
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
35
discovered, but which I, weak, distrustful, hid iumyowu
bosom. Now, Mary, I can tell you I love you.
Mary. Ned, have I done right to break my promise?
Ned. Y es, M ary. You have obeyed the dictates of
your heart. Douglas is unworthy the rich prize he
seeks.
Mary. Had I known you were listening, Ned, 1 fear
my tongue would have refused to do its duty.
Nedj. And you love me?
Mary. Yes, Ned, with all my heart.
Ned. O, you make me so happy ! An hour ago life
seemed not worth living for ; but noAv, with your love to
cheer me, all is bright and hopeful. It’s a glorious
world ! and never fear but I will find a way to lead you,
not to toil and poverty, not to wealth and luxury, but to
a comfortable -home, where the ring of my hammer and
the sound of your voice shall blend in sweet accord.
Mary. Why, Ned, what magic’s here? Your eye is
bright, your cheek glowing, your whole manner so unlike
you ! I’m frightened.
Ned. Magic? The magic of a woman’s love, which
can transform age to youth, and make the dull heart beat
w'ith healthy power. You smile on me, and I am strong
again.
Mary. Now be careful. Remember you are an inva-
lid. Bless me ! how late it is ! Come, you must to bed
at once. Remember I am your nurse still.
Ned. O, I’ll obey. But I shan’t sleep a wink. Mary,
are you sure I’m not dreaming?
Mary. There’s my hand. When you ask it, ,it is
yours.
86
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
NeA. (^Places his arm around her ivaist^ takes her
hand and raises it to his lips.) Mine ! heart and hand
mine ! No ; I’m not dreaming. ’Tis a blessed reality.
[^PJxeunt^ R.
{Knock at door, c., then it opens, and Jarius sticks his
head in.)
Jarius. Jes’ so. {Enters.) Nobody to hum, or all
gone to roost, except Sally. That air female I jest
seen through the kitchen winder a slashiu’ away in the
bread trough like all possessed. She’s a powerful gal
— she is. Her washin’ don’t hang round long arter
breakfast, I reckon. 0, Sally, ef yeou only knew what
a powerful drubbin’ was goin’ on behind my ribs on your
account, you’d take pity and help a feller out somehow.
Plague take it ! She knows it well enough. Didn’t I
start right off, a year ago, on her hint, and git my hair
cropped so short that I couldn’t lay on a piller, and
sneezed and snorted, and wore out handkerchers with
the influenza? Didn’t I go and git measured for a new
pair of boots, so tight that I hobbled all day and howled
all night with aching toes? Didn’t I git fitted to a bran
new coat, that bust up the back the fust time I wore it?
Ef tliat ain’t showin’ off one’s love. I’d like to know it !
But it’s no use. She won’t help a feller a bit. She
knows every time I come I’m a burnin’ to ask her to be
my wife. But I can’t say it. It gits jes’ so fur, and
there it sticks. Sally, I love you. Four words. I’m
blamed ef they ain’t a bigger load to git rid of than a
Fourth er July oration ! But it’s no use. It’s got to
come. So, Jarius, don’t be a fool. Spit it out, and
she’s youru. I will, the minute I see her. I won’t wait
THE LITTLE BROW-N JUG.
37
for nothin’, but jest shout, ‘^ally ^ — (Enter Sally, l.,
luitli her hands and arms covered luiih Jlonr^. Sli, sli !
Ifovv do yon do? [Shakes hands quickhj.)
Sally. Law sakes, Mr. Jerden, you’ve caught inc this
time, sure enough ! I’m up to my elbows in flour. So
jest excuse me a niinnte. . {Going, l.
Jarius. No, hold on a minute, or I shall bust. Now’s
the appointed time, Sally. Sally, I’ve got something
particular to say — Sally — Sally — old Hopkins has
got the yaller jauders.
Sally. AVal, I declare ! Is that the particular some-
thin’? L.)
Jarius. No, no. Hold on a minute. (^Catches her hy
the arm ; gets Jioiir on his hands.) ’Tain’t that. {Aside.)
Consatii it, there’s a cold chill runs up my back, and my
face is buruin’ up. {Wipes his face with his hands., leav-
ing flour on it.)
Sally. Why, Mr. Jerden, what is the matter with
you? You’re as pale^as a ghost !
Jarius. Jes’ so. O, Sally, hear me. Don’t look at
me, but open your ears. Pally Seeslee,— no, Sally Pees-
lee, — I — I — I think it’s going to rain. {Aside.) 1 can’t
do it.
Sally. Mml, what of it?
Jarius. Jes' so. It’ll put an end to the dry spell.
Scdly. It seems to me that you are having a very dry
s})eil about somethin’, Mr. Jerden.
Jarius. Yes ; jes’ so. Ha, ha, ha-h I That’s very
good !
Sally. I’ll be back before you \Yaut me, I guess.
{Going., L.)
38
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Jarius. Don’t leave me.VlIcar me first, for I’m on
an awful strain, and if I once let up I’m a gone coon.
Sally, I want to say — I must say — ^ Sally, I mean to say
— how’s your inarm?
Salhj. AVhy, Mr. Jerden, are you crazy? Mother’s
been dead and buried this six months.
Jarius. So she has. It’s no use asking arter her —
is it? That wan’t what I was going to say. To come
to the p’iut, Sally, to come to the p’int, I — I — I don’t
feel well.
Sally. Then you’d better go home, tie up your ears,
and get to bed. It’s my opinion you’ve had a pint too
much, Jarius Jerden ; and if ever you show youi-self here
in that condition again. I’ll drown the pizen out of yer with
a kittle of hot wa!er. Ain’t ye ashamed of yourself, at
your time of life making a fool of yourself in this way,
Jarius Jerden ? I did think you had some sense; but
you’re nothing but a fool, arter all. Go home. Don’t
stand there staring at me in that Vvay. Go to bed, sleep
it off, and rise in the morning a sadder and a wiser man.
O, Jarius, you, of all men ! Wal, I never ! [Zfx/zl, l.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Sold again. And she ‘thinks I’m
drunk ! Never was di’unk in all my lile ; but if the sen-
sation is anything like bein’ in love without the power
of tellin’ on it, then all I’ve got to say, it’s an all-fired
mean feelin’. Wal, things is gittin’ on backwards mighty
fast, anyhow. I’ve made a darned goose.of myself, that’s
sartin. Go home and sleep it off? Yes, I guess not.
I’ll just hang round here a little longer, and if there’s
another chance. I’ll make one mouthl'ul of it, and say,
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
39
“Sally — ” O, consarn it, Jariiis, you darsn’t. You’re
a niean, mealy-mouthed critter, and no mistake.
\_Exit^ C.
Enter Mary, r.
Ilary, Who’s that? Somebody just left the house.
Who could it have been? It must have been Jarius, on
his nightly visit. Sally’s light is still 'burning in the
kitchen. I’ll just pick up my work, and off to bed. Can
it be possible that Will forged that check? I don't be-
lieve it. Henry Douglas must have invented that story
to frighten me.
Enter W^ill, c., softly.
Poor boy, I wish he were safe home again !
Will. Mary — sister T
Mary. {Rushing into his arms.) O, Will, dear AYill,
is it you at last ?
Will. Hush ! Don’t .wake anybody. I wouldn’t be
seen by any one but you for the world. You see, I got
awful homesick, wanted to have a look at the old home,
and, if possible, speak with you. But I don’t want to
meet father or mother.
Ma.ry. Don’t want to meet them I O, Will, your city
life —
Will. Is splendid! I’m rising in the world — I am.
That’s the place for me. Busy all day, and at night see-
ing the sights. O, it’s gay ! I’m doing well. But I
shall never meet father until I am rich enough to say,
“I was right, and you Avere wrong. I should have been
on the bench now had I listened to you ; but I asserted
40
THE LITTI.E BROWN JUG.
my rights, went into the world, and have come back rich,
powerful, iuflueiwial.” Ahem. Tliat’s the style in which
I shall meet him one of these days.
Mary. Will, are you still in the employ of Mr. Doug-
las ?
Will. No. I’m on my own account.
Mary. O, Heavens ! ’tis true, ’tis true !
Will. What’s true, Mary?
«
Mary. The forged check. '<
Will. Eh ? What forged check ?
Mary. Henry Douglas told me to-night that you had
forged his name to a check for two hundred dollar.s.
Will. ’Tis a lie ! an infamous lie !
Alary. He said you denied it.
W^ill. We have never spoken concerning a check. I
have had nothing to do with his money matters.
Alary. But you have parted?
Will. Because he wished me to testify falsely in a
case in which he was concerned — to perjure myself. I
refused ; and for that reason, and that alone, we parted.
Mary, I may be wild and reckless, but, believe me, I have
never committed a crime — never.
Alary. I do believe you. Will. ’Tis but another proof
of his perfidy.
Will. Never mind him, Mary. He’s not worthy of a
thought. Tell me of father and mother. Are they
well ?
Alary. Ah, Will, your conduct has made them ten
years older. Father will not allow your name to be
mentiotied, and mother, at his bidding, is silent ; but her
face is careworn, her step feeble, and the nervous start
THE LFiTLE BROWN JUG.
41
she gives when the door opens tells how anxiously she
awaits your return. You will see her, Will?
Will. Yot to-night, Mary. In an hour I must be on
my way back to the city. Mary, I wish I had not come
here. There’s a power in the old house that makes my
heart ache, it awakens such memories ! And mother,
dear soul, how sadly her ^bright hopes of her boy have
been shattered ! Though I have dashed into the city,
and been swept along by its hurry and whirl, I have
often thought of this quiet house, and ached, fairly ached,
to feel mother’s arms around my neck, and her good-
night kiss upon my brow. O, Mary, be tender, very
tender with her. Don’t let her hear a word against me.
Sometimes I think that fierce temptation will overwhelm
me, ruin me, body and soul ; and that would break her
heart.
Mary. O, Will, stay with us. Here you are safe
from all temptations.
Will. Here ? Why, Mary, you forget the little brown
jug, which first tempted me to drink, Avhich created a
thirst, which, fight against as I will, must be quenched.
Mary. Ah ; but the little brown jug Avill not tempt •
you now. Since that day there has been no more brew-
ing of strong drink. Father has abandoned it, and the
old jug has been put to a better use.
Will. . A better use?
3Iary. Yes. ’Tis now placed iu the cupboard in fa-
ther’s room, and every Saturday night he places iu it
the sum of money he would have expended for liquor
during the week. There’s quite a large sum there.
42
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Will. That’s very queer. In father’s cupboard, you
say?
Mary. Yes. But you do not inquire after Ned.
Will. Ned Hartshorn? Is he here still?
Mary. Will, are you ignorant of his severe illness?
Did not Mr. Douglas tell you?
Will. Nothing concerning. Ned Hartshorn. I haven’t
hejird his name before for a year.
Mary. Douglas’s deceit again ! Will, for a year he
has not left the house. That blow with the jug, a year
ago, nearly killed him.
Will. What! And- 1 knew nothing of it? O, this
is terrible ! That man is a fiend ! He has tried to keep
from ine all knowledge of you and my family, for what
reason I cannot guess. But I will know. Ned Harts-
horn nearly killed, and by my hand ! I am accursed ! Let
me fly from this place !
Mary. No, no, Will ; not now, not now I
Will. I will 1 I must ! What right have I to stand
beneath this roof? I have defied my father, chosen my
own path in life, turned my back upon you all, and have
no right to claim kindred here. Let me go, Mary. ’Tis
better for all. There’s a curse upon me, a bitter curse.
Let me go ! let me go !
Mary. No, no, brother. (Clings about his neck.) I
will not release you. We love you dearly.
IkToZ. Then pray for me, think of me kindly if you
can ; but part we must. (Kisses her.) Mary, sister.
Heaven bless you 1 (Bushes out., c.)
Mary. Gone. Poor boy I I tremble for him, swayed
by every impulse of his wayward nature, in the midst
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
43
of temptation ; his young life already poisoned by the love
of drink, what must be his fate ! O, brother, may Heaven
send some good angel to reclaim you, aud hear a moth-
er’s and a sister’s prayers in your behalf. (^Takes lujlit
from table,, and exits, R.)
Door opens, sofihj. Enter Will, c.
Will. Homeless and friendless ! She little knows it
has come to that. She little knows that my threat to
acquaint my father with his wild doings parted Douglas
aud I. He marry her ! Not if I can prevent it. But
what power have I with my stubborn father? Douglas
has trumped up his charge of forgery to frighten *me aud
intimidate her. How can I alarm her and father? I
caiiie to tell her, aud have not spoken a word against
him. But I will find a way. Just now 1 must care for
myself. I haven’t had a morsel to eat to-day, so my
good mother’s cupboard !nust provide. If I could only
have one good })ull at the little brown jug ! I forgot.
’Tis now put to better use. Better? There’s money in
it ; aud money will provide both food and shelter. Why
not? Haven’t I a right to put my fingers in it? Yes,
you have put it to a better use, father, aud, with your
good leave, I’ll have a pull at it, as in former days. Egad,
it’s a capital joke. There’s no crime about it, for it’s all
in the family, and one member mustn’t starve while oth-
ers hoard wealth. I’ll creep into father’s room, secure
the jug, help myself, and nobody shall be the wiser.
Softly, my boy, softly. (^Creeps out, l.)
44
THE LITTLE BROWN JU.G.
Jarius appears at luindow^ or door, c.
Jarius. Consarn it! somebody’s been sneaking round
this house for the last half hour. Wonder if he’s arter
Sally! {^Enters ivindow, or- door.) Blamed if I ain't
going to know what it’s all about ! If it’s a thief, then
all I’ve got to say, there’ll be some spry wrastling around
here afore he gits off with much plunder.
Enter Will, l., with jug of money.
Will. All right. I’ve got it. {Buns into Jarius's
arms.)
Jarius. {Seizing him hy collar.) Jes’ so. So have I.
Will. Ah! Discovered! Who are you, scoundrel?
Jarius. Who are you, thief? {Drags him to moon^
light.) Will Nutter !
Will. Jarius Jordan !
Jarius. Wal, I never! Will Nutter a thief!
Will. Thief? ’Tis ffilse.
Jarius. {Snatching jug from him.) Plere is the
proof. 0, AVill, young feller, has it come to this?
Will. What right have you meddling here ? This is
my father’s house. Haven’t I a right to pass in and out
of it when I please?
Jarius. Jes’ so ; but not to rob the old man. What
right have I to meddle? The right which every honest
man should be proud to exercise — the right to battle
wrong wherever found. Young feller, you've made my
heart ache to-night. To see the boy we were all so proud
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
45
of sneaking ont of his father’s house a thief! It’s too
bad!
Will. Jarius Jordan, once more I tell you I’m no
thief.
Jarius. Will you tell your father so, when I arouse
him, as I mean (o?
Will. No, no, Jarius ; don’t do that. Let me go as
I came. Keep the jug, if you please ; only let me go.
Jarius. Will Nutter, young feller, you’re going to
destruction as fast as your legs can carry you. Where’s
your pride? Where’s your grand expectations, that you
raved so about, a year ago? Why, you’re the meanest
of all critters — a thief.
Will. That name again ?
Jarius. Yes ; again and again. I ain’t agoiu’ to be
mealy-mouthed on this subject, anyhow. You see what
yer fine friend has brought ye to ; for it’s all his work.
I’ve watched ye in the city all through yer year of service
with him. I’ve seen the temptations spread by him like
a spider, and you, poor little fly, walk into them. It all
came of his trickery. And now here you are, crawling
into the room where your poor mother is sleeping — v
Will. O, don’t, Jarius ; don’t speak of my. mother 1
What would she say to know that her poor boy was a —
a —
Jarius. Thief! Say it. Will, young feller. Git the
bile all out of yer system. Look at yerself as ye are ;
feel as mean as ye look. You are —
Will. A thief! Yes, Jarius, it’s the truth. O, why
did I come here? Why add this horror to a life already
made wretched by my folly ? I never dreamed of this. It
4G
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
was a sudden impulse. I never gave a thought to it.
It came upon me unawares. But now I see its wicked-
ness. O, Jarius, why can’t I die? {Sinks on floor,
covers face with hands.) Why can’t I die? I haven’t a
friend in the world to care for me now.
Jarius. Yes, you have. Look up, AVill. I never
went back on a feller-critter, good or bad, when in dis-
tress, and I ain’t a goiu’ to do it now. Look up, young
feller. ' I’ll help you out.'
Will. Help me? You ! Then show me how to help
myself. Show me some way to wipe out this disgrace,
and I will bless you.
Jarius. Listen to me. A year ago, of your own ac-
cord, you set out to seek your foruiu'-* with Hen Doug-
las —
Will. Yesterday we parted, for his service was too
mean for me to perform.
Jarius. Jes’ so. You’ve had a year of his tuition ;
will you now take a year of .mine?
Will. Yours, Jarius?
Jarius. Yes, mine. I wanted you then, but Douglas
eucred me. I want you now. Will you serve me?
Will. '* Willingly, and bless you for the chance.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Young feller, you’ve only seen the
dark side of life. You’ve been dipped into temptation ;
but hang on tome and I’ll pull you out. There’s my
hand.
Will. And there’s mine.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. Let’s understand thinjis.
There’s got to be a rippin’ away of old associations — no
billiards, no cards, no theatres.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
47
Will, There’s my hand.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. You’re to stick to all I
ask, although it goes agin the grain.
Will. There’s my hand.
Jarius. Hold on a minute. Here’s the hardest. You
must solemnly promise that for one year you will never
touch, taste, or handle liquor, plain or embellished, raw
or fancy. It’s hard, young feller, for you, but it’s your
only hope.
Will. It is, indeed, Jarius. Heaven bless you ! You
are a true friend. As you speak, I feel the strength of
your good, noble heart animating mine. Y’^ours is the
first warning voice that has ever reached my ears, and I
will heed it. Do with me as you will. I promise.
Jarius. Jes’ so. iSIutf sed ; shake. {They stand in
centre of stage., with clasped hands., as the curtain slowly
descends.)
ACT THIRD.
Scene. — Same as Act 2. Table., l. Arm-chair l. of
table., in which is seated John Nutter. Lounge, r.
Chair, R., back. Table, with plants, l., back. Door,
C., open. Ned standing R. of table.
John. It’s no use argifying, Ned. It can’t be ; it shan’t
be. Mary gin her promise to Henry Douglas more than
a year ago, an’ she’s got to stick tew it. I ain’t a goin’
to have no flirts about me.
Ned. But she does not love him, sir ; she is truly at-
48
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
taclied to me. Yon surely would not have her break her
heart.
John. Better break it than break her promise, and
break his heart.
Ned. There is no fear of breaking his ; he has none.
He is unworthy of her.
John. Now, Ned, don’t be mean. Don’t speak ill
of a man because he is likely to win where you may
lose.
Ned.. I speak the truth. Mary has tolcf'him she did •
not love liim, and asked him to release her. He refused.
He’s a mean, contemptible sneak, unworthy any woman’s
love. That one act stamps him so.
John. Now stop. That’s enough. I know Henry
Douglas better than you. He has been a good friend
to me, and I won’t have him abused. When, a year ago,
I emptied the little brown jug of my savings, and found,
to my. surprise, a handsome sum, he showed me a grand
chance for a safe investment. I took his advice, and
doubled my money in a month. He helped me to other
investments.
Ned. I know. Some of them paid and some didn’t.
The balance is on the wrong side, for your money has
vanished, and there’s a mortgage of a thousand dollars on
your property, which he holds. Pretty friend he !
John. Well, wliat of it? Them as wiu must expect
to lose sometimes. It’s no use your talkin’ agin him.
He’s smart, and he’ll help me out, with a handsome prout,
when the time comes rl<rht.
o
Ned. And for his sake you refuse to let Mary marry
the man of her choice
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
49
John. He was the man of her choice. Fm only a
givin’ him justice. Now look a-here, Ned ; let’s have no
more of this. I think a heap of you. You’re a smart
workman ; and I’d like to see you married. Mary’s al-
ready engaged. {Rises.') Think no more of her. If
you want a smart wife,
Enter Jarius, c.
take Sally Peeslee. She’s a bouncer. \_Exit^ L.
Jarius. {Aside.) Jes’ so. Guess I didn’t come back
any tew soon. {Aloud.) Ned !
Ned. {Turning., sees Jarius.) Jarius Jordan !
Jarius. Jes’ so. Ileow air yer, young feller ? {Shake
hands.) And heow’s everybody?
Ned. Glad to see you once more. It must be a year
since you were here.
Jarius. Jes’ so ; a year to-day. Folks all well?
Ned. Yes — no; Mother Nutter is poorly; the rest
are hearty.
Jarius. Sally Peeslee smart — hey? By the by,
didn’t I hear John Nutter say somethin’ about your mak-
in’ up to her?
Ned. You need fear no rival in me, Mr. Jordan.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Expected you and Mary would have
made a match. P’raps you have.
Ned. No. AYe are warmly attached ; but Mr. Nut-
ter Avill not hear of our marrying. He wants to give her ^
to Henry Douglas.
Jarius. The old fool! Nothin’' personal in that re-
mark. But he’s wus than a nine-days’ -old pup — hain’t
4
50
THE LITTLE BROWN- JUG.
got his eyes open. AYal, what air ye goin’ to do ’bout
it — give her up ?
' Ned. Never ! I scarcely know what to do. Douglas
has almost ruined the old man with speculation. Every-
thing is mortgaged to him ; and if Mary does not marry
him, he will turn them out of their home.
Jarius. Slio ! How much is the mortgage?
Ned. A thousand dollars.
Jarius. Wal, don’t yeou fret, young feller. I’ll see
yeou through. I’ve got a bone to pick with that aiy
chap ; and, keen as he thinks himself, he’s got to git up
airly if he gits ahead of Jarius Jordan. Hullo, here’s
Mary !
Enter Mary, r.
Mary. Well, Ned, what does he say? — Why, Mr.
Jordan !
Jarius. . Jes’ so. Heow d’ye do? {Shake hands.')
Prettier than ever, I declare !
Mary. This is an unexpected pleasure. We haven’t
seen you for a long time.
Jarius. Jes’ so. But Ned don’t say what he said.
Ned. He refused me, Mary. He says you must keep
your promise to Douglas.
Mary. Never. I’ll die first.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Good grit. Neow, young folks, I
always w^as famous for meddlin’ ; and I’m goin’ to he>p
you in this matter, if you’ll let me. Douglas has a hold
’ on the old gent wdtli a mortgage. I understand that.
Anything else ?
Mary. He holds a check, which he declares was forged,
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
51
his name used, and the money drawn from the bank hy
This he has threatened to use against my brother.
A
Jarius. Jcs’ so. A forged check? That’s an old
trick. You don’t happen to know what bank it was drawn
on — do you ?
Mary. He told me. Let me think a moment. The
Phoenix Bank.
Jarius. The Phoenix? Sho ! I’ve got him ! ^ (^Goes.
to table.) takes a tablet from his pockety and writes witJJa
pencil.) Neow, then, young feller, I want to use yer. If
yeou want'Mary, jest put on your hat, and leg it to the
'telegraph office. Here’s a message ; put it through, and
wait for an answer. (Tears out leaf) and gives it to
Ned.)
Ned. But what does this mean ?
Jarius. Business. Don’t ask any questions ; but go.
If yeou git the answer I expect. I’ll eucre Douglas in
spite of thunder.
Ned. Will you? Then I’m off. — Will you go,
“^lary ?
Jarius. No; Mary will stay here. Where’s your po-
liteness? Ain’t I company ?
Ned. All right, Mr. Jordan. Pm off. \_Exit) C.
Jarius. Well, Mary, heow’s yer inarm?
Mary. She’s very sick, Mr. Jordan. She keeps her
room most of the time. My brother’s conduct, my fa-
ther’s wild speculations, and the persistent wooing of
Henry Douglas, — whom she detests, — have made her
very miserable.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Wal, we’ll see if we can’t doctor
her up. Now, Mary, the next time Douglas comes here
52
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
don’t yon be mealy-mouthed. Let him have it ri^ht and
left. Tell him jest what you think of him, and defy him
to do his worst.
Mary. I dare not. lie is wicked enough to crush
father with the mortgage he holds, and mean enough to
kill mother by disclosing Will’s connection with the
forged check.
Jarius. Let him do his worst, Mary. He’s a crafty
chap, a-schemin' to snare the old man and get your hand ;
but there’s a weak p’int somewhere in his net, and if I
can find it I’ll holler.
Mary. I’ll obey you, Mr. Jordan. Only put an end
to this terrible persecution, and you will make, me happy.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Hullo ! there’s Sally. Now I’ye
got something particular to say .to her, and -if you don’t
mind taking a hasty leave. I’ll be obliged to ye.
Mary. O, certainly. Ahem! Mr. Jordan, you’re sure
you have the courage to speak now?
Jarius. Neow yeou git eout ! Want to make a fel-
ler feel cheap ■ — don’t yeou ?
Mary. Ha, ha ! Mr. Jordan, you’ve a brave heart,
but you dare not ask her. See if I am not right. Good
by. [Exit., R.
Jarius. Darsn’t ask Sally to be my wife ? Don’t think
I’m such a blarsted fool neow. Arter staying away a
year, guess I’ve about screwed my courage up to do it,
or bust.
Sally. (Ow^stcZe, L.) Mary, Mary ! Where on airth
• is them mangoes? {Enter, L.)
Jarius. Dunno, Sally. Here’s a man come.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
53
Sally. Jarius Jerden ! Wal, I never! How d’ye
do?
Jarius. Party well, Sally. {Shake hands.) Sally,
you are a bouncer, and no mistake !
Sally. Where yeou been this long while ? Come back
for good?
Jarius. Wal, that depends. Sally, yeou dew look
jest about good enough to eat.
Sally. Do I? {Aside.) Law sakes ; how his eyes
blaze ! I believe he’s going to pop. {Aloud.) I’m mak-
ing pickles.
Jarius. Making pickles? {Aside.) She’s pickled
me, long ago.
Sally. Yes ; and I Avant the mangoes. Somebody’s
hid ’em. I must find Mary. {Grosses to R.)
Jarius. Don’t go, Sally ; I want to speak to yeou. If
you leave me neow, I won’t answer for the consequences.
Sally. {Aside.) O, dear ; I’m afraid of him ! {Aloud.)
What is it, Mr. Jerden? {Edging, off., R.)
Jarius. .{Aside.) IIow skeery she is I Wonder
what’s the matter 1 {Aloud.) Sally, I’m goin’ to do
somethin’ desperate, for the sight of yeou has set me on
fire. I feel — I feel that the hour has come —
Sally. {Aside.) I can’t bear it. {Aloud.) Dear
me; this place haiu’t been dusted to-day. {Takes her
apron., and runs about dusting table., chair, and lounge.)
Jarius. {Aside.) I swow, she’s skeered ! All right,
Jarius ; now’s yer chance. {Runs after Sally ; brings
her down, c.) Sally, it’s no use ; yeou must hear me.
Sally, do yeou know what it is to be in — in — in — love ?
Sally. {Aside.) He’s going to-pop ! {Aloud.) O,
54
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
them plants ! (Runs l. c.) They haven’t been watered
to-day.
Jarius. {Aside.') How she does carry on ! {Runs
after her., and brings her down., c.) Now look a-here,
Sally ; it’s no use. You’ll spile everything.
Sally. O, my pickles ! they’ll spile ! Do let me go,
Mr. Jerden.
Jarius. {Putting his arm round her waist.) Let ’em
spile ! I’ve got yeou fast, Sally, and I’m going to try
and keep yeou for ever and ever.
Sally. {Struggling to get away.) Mr. Jerden, I’m
ashamed of you.
Jarius. I’m ashamed of myself, Sally. To think I’ve
been so mealy-mouthed ! What bright eyes you’ve got !
and rosy cheeks ! and such a mouth ! I declare, I must
have a kiss !
Sally, Don’t yeou dew it, Mr. Jerden.
Jarius. I can’t help it, Sally. I never saw a sugar
bowl but what I wanted to git my fingers into it, or a
’lasses barrel but what I wanted to lick it. And a tnouth
like yours ! — Jehu, don’t stop me ! {Kisses her.)
Enter Douglas, c.
Douglas. Aha! (Sally screams., and runs off., L.)
Jarius. Jes’ so. Aha, yerself, and see heow yeou
like it. ■ •
Douglas. .Tarius Jordan ! You back again ?
Jarius. Jes’ so, and likely to stop a spell.
Douglas. I should judge so from the warm welcome
you have just received. Is the day fixed — hey?
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
6
55
Jarius. Wal, not exactly. Fm kinder waitin’ for
you and Mary. Is the day fixed — hey?
Douglas, ria ! You are sarcastic. Tliey tell me you
have made a great deal of money, Jordan.
Jarius. AYal, I ain’t as poor as a church mouse.
Douglas. That’s good. Our old friend Nutter has
got into difficulties ; wants money. Now you are just
the chap to help him.
Jarius. Guess not. I don’t throw my money away
for nothin’. What I git I keep.
Douglas. (^Aside.) Good. No fear of him. (^Aloud.^
That’s right. Don’t let him wheedle you out of it ; for,
between you and me, he’s a ruined man.
Jarius. Jes’ so. He’s a good old chap ; but I’ve
heard he’s been speculatin’, and is bound to end in the
poorhouse. Wal, they’ve got a purty good one here,
and’ll make him comfortable. Here comes his darter.
I woffit spile your fun as you did mine. I’ve got a
heap of business to attend tew. Good day. (^Astde.)
Darn your ugly picter, your day is fixed. c.
Douglas. Rich and mean. All the better for me ; he
will not mar my project ; and to-day I will give Mary
my ultimatum — her hand, or her father’s ruin.
Enter Mary, r.
Ah, Mary, you are looking finely to-day !
Mary. Thank you, Mr. Douglas. Father is at home.
I will call him. {Grosses to L.)
Douglas. No. By your leave, I would have a Avord
with you.
56
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Mary. Certainly, if you wish it. {^Sits in chair L. of
table.)
Douglas. (Brings chair down C., and sits.) Mary, I
have come to-day to revive a topic upon which I hav’e
been silent a year.
Mary. You come again to ask me to marry you. I
have been expecting this visit.
Douglas. And you are prepared with an answer?
Mary. 1 am.
Douglas. Stop. one moment, Mary. Before you give
me that answer, hear me. You must believe that I love
you. This long year, during which I have been almost
a constant visitor, looking upon you with wistfnl eyes,
yet wdth a silent tongue, for fear of your displeasure,
coming and going, must be convincing proof that, spite
of your coldness, your image is enshrined within my
heart.
Mary. Mr. Douglas, the man who truly loves a wo-
man shows his devotion by making her happy, even at
the cost of his own happiness.
Douglas. You’re right, Mary. ’Tis your happiness I
seek when I ask you to become my wife. I would not
see you throw yourself away upon a poor man, when I
h'ave the power to surround you with every comfort, and
a heart overflowing with love, that cannot fail to make
you happy.
Alary. Enough. Y"ou and I can never agree. My
answer a year ago was final.
Douglas. Pray reconsider it. If not for my sake,
for that of your father.
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
57
Mary. Whom you have persistently wooed for the
last year. What of him?
Douglas. He has met with reverse of fortune. He
is now a poor man, so poor that, but for my friendly aid,
he would have no home to shelter him.
Mary. {Bising.) Your friendly aid ! ’Twas you
who led him into speculation ; you who, by crafty advice,
swept away his little store of hard-earned savings ; you,
who now stand over his home ready to crush it if I, his
daughter, dare refuse you my hand !
Douglas. Nay, Mary, you are harsh. Calm yourself.
Out of my deep love for you I have endeavored to belter
his worldly condition. If I have failed in my designs —
Mary. You have failed, Henry Douglas. My father
is in yoiuf power, ’tis true. You can at any moment
drive him from his home. In that design you have tri-
umphed. But beyond that you have miserably failed.
Though my father should curse me, should drive me from
my home for my disobedience, I will never marry you —
never ]
Douglas. Ah, you’ll think better of it, Mary. I have
spent a great deal of money to help him. He OAves me
a large sum. With you ray wife, I could not be hard
with him. Without you, I must deal Avith him justly,
man to man, and claim my OAvn.
Mary. Claim it at once. Drive us forth, for then
comes my triumph. There’s a brave, true man Avaiting
for me. Already we have planned a neAv home, Avliere
my parents Avill be tenderly cared for, and tAvo loving
hearts and four Avilling hands will rebuild all your craft
58
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
has destroyed. Ay, Henry Douglas, do your worst !
You are a villain, and I hate and defy you !
Douglas. {Dising.) Enough. Mary Nutter, I will
take you at your word. I will do my worst. You have
turned all my love to hate. I’ll woo no more. But,
mark me, your father shall be driven from' his home;
your lover — curse him! — shall be shot like a dog,
though I hang for it !
Hannah. (OatsicZc, l.) Mary, dear I Mary!
Douglas. Hark ! There’s the voice of one very, very
dear to you. You have defied me, Mary. I’ll strike my
first blow there.
/
Mary. My mother! No, no. You would not be so
cruel. Spare her, I entreat you !
Douglas. No, no. You are too late.
Enter Hannah, feehhj., r., in a white wrapper.
Hannah. Mary, Mary, dear ! don’t you hear me ?
• Mary. {^Running to her, and leading her to lounge.')
Yes, mother ; I was just coming. Why did you leave
your room?
Hannah. It was so lonesome there, IMary, dear ; and,
yoQ know, to-day is Will’s birthday. Yes, to-day he is
a man. And I have felt all day that I should see him ;
thgt to-day he would think of his poor mother, and find
the way home to her.
Mary. Yes, mother, it is his birthday ; but he is far,
far away.
Hannah. Yes ; but not too far away to reach his
mother. I remember, as though it were but yesterday,
V.
THE LITTLE BROAVN JUG.
59
when he w^as twelve years old. What a bright, noble
boy he was ! He came to my side, put his arms about
my neck, and said, “ Mother, I shall soon be a man ! ”
Dear boy, he was a brave little man then. “ And when
I am a man, the first thing I shall do will be to run to
you and kiss you, and thank you for making me a good,
true man.” Dear boy ! and I haven’t seen him for two
years ! and he don’t wu’ite to me ; and you all look strange
•when I ask for him. But he’ll come to-day, I know he
will, for he promised ; and he never broke a promise he
gave his mother — never.
Douglas. Ah, it’s shameful, shameful that a boy with
so good a mother should turn out so bad !
Alary. (Tb Douglas.) Hush! For Heaven’s sake
be merciful !
Hannah. What’s that I Who spoke ? Who said my
boy turned out bad?
Alary. Nobody, mother. Don’t mind that man. He’s
deceived himself. It’s Henry Douglas.
Hannah. Henry Douglas? What does he know
about my Will?
Douglas. Too much. He has deceived me. I thought
him a true, noble boy ; but he robbed me.
Enter Jarius, c.
• •
» ■
Jarius. {Aside.) Jes’ so. He’s got to work. Where
on airth is that Ned?
Hannah. Robbed you ! My Will? ’Tis false I
Douglas. I’m sorry to say ’tis true.
‘Alary. Mr. Douglas, have you no pity?
GO
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Douglas. You would have it so, Mary. I am not to
blame.
Jarius. (Aside.) Consarn it, why don’t that boy
come. (He fidgets in the dooriuay., looking off., and then
watching Douglas.)
Douglas. Yes,' Mrs. Nutter; I am sorry to distress
you ; but ’tis best you know the truth. While in my
employ, Will robbed me of two hundred dollars.
Hannah. No, no ; you are mistaken. My boy, my
noble boy ! I’ll not believe it.
Jarius. (Aside.) Consarn his ugly picter ! I shall
split ! Where is that boy?
Douglas. Yes, he robbed me ; forged my name to a
check. ’Tis here. (Showing check.)
Hannah. O, Heavens ! My boy ! my boy !
Douglas. Drew the money from the bank —
(Ned appears., c. Gives Jarius a telegram.)
Mary. Villain, you are killing her. — Mother, ’tis
false ! ’tis false !
Douglas. ’Tis true. I can prove it.
Jarius. (Coming doiun c., with' telegram.) Jes’ so.
(Snatches the check.) Phoenix Bank: two hundred- dol-
lars. Humbug ! that’s no forgery.
Douglas. No forgery? Is not that my name?
Jarius. Jes’ so. But here’s a little telesrram from the
O
Phoenix Bank. (Pleads.) “ Have examined the books.
Henry Douglas never had funds in our bank.”
Douglas. Fool ! wdiat business have you to meddle in
this matter? '
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG. Gl_
Jarius. Why, bless your soul, Pm one of the direc-
tors iu that air Phoenix.
Douglas. Confusion !
Jarius. Jes’ so. Mrs. Nutter, don’t be scart. Will’s
all right on that p’int.
Hannah. I knew he was. Poor boy, he has enemies
who would rob him of his good name.
Jarius. Jes’ so. But this ere sneak didn’t make much
of a speck when he tried it on. Mr. Douglas, Pd git
eout if I was in yeour place.
Douglas. Mr. Jarius Jordan, your bare assertion that
you are a director in this bank will not serve. I still
hold my cha'rge of forgery against Will Nutter.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Well, you hold it. It won’t hurt
anybody if it goes off ; but I’m inclined to think it’ll kick
like thunder.
Enter John, l.
John. Ah, Douglas ! I’ve been up fo see you. I’m
all anxiety to hear from the Carom stock. Has it gone up ?
Douglas. No; but-the mine has.
John. Gracious Heaven ! Then I am ruined! [Sinks
into chair l. of table., and buries his face in his hands.)
Douglas. Yes, old man, you’ve nothing left but your
house and shop ; and they must go to repay me.
John. What I You will not close on me?
Douglas I must. I want the money.
John. Why, you told me you would wait ; that when
you married Mary you would give it up. Won’t you
wait ?
Douglas. No ; that would be too long.
62
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Mary. I shall never marry him, father.
John. But you must — you shall. I’ll have no diso-
bedieuce.
Hannah. Father, father, Mary is a good girl. Don’t
speak of disobedience.
John. She shall marry Henry Douglas.
Douglas. Never, John Nutter! I would not marry
your daughter-were she at my feet entreating me to take
her to my arms. {Folds his arms.) She’s not my style.
John. What, you miserable Avhelp ! Do you know where
you are — wlio you are speaking to ? You have entreated
me to give her -to you ; you have begged me to exert
my power, and drive her to your arms ; and, now tliat
you have me iu your power, you dare to jusult her 1 Vil-
lain, I’ll strangle you ! {Rushes at DouGla.s.)
Jarius. {Rushing between.) Hold on. Keep cool,
Mr. Nutter.
Douglas. I want nothing that belongs to you, old
man, but my money ; that I will have. Pay me one
thousand dollars, or I take immediate possession of your
property.-
John. O, I am justly served! I listened to your
voice, embarked in speculation, turned against my daugh-
- ter’s love, and now, iu my old age, must wander forth
without a home.
Douglas. It’s rather hard. Keep the home, and pay
the money. It’s easy enough.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Pay the money, and let the sneak
go.
John. How can I ? I haven’t a cent in the world.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Where’s the little brown jug?
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
G3
Mary. Alas, that is empty !
Jarius. Sho ! Let’s have a look at it.
John. ’Tis useless. I haven’t put a copper into it for
a year. Everything has gone to that villain.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Let’s see the jug lor old acquaint-
ance’ sake. {Exit, Mary, l.) It’s a bad thing to give
up putting away a little somethin’ for a rainy day, ain’t it,
Mrs. Nutter?
Hannah. Yes. John always did save until that
Henry Douglas showed liim how to spend.
Jarius. Jes’ so. It’s a great pity. I could tell you
a story about a boy I knowed.
Hannah. A boy ! What boy ?
Jarius. Why, how bright you are looking, Mrs. Nut-
ter ! Guess you feel better.
Douglas. Well, is my money coming ?
Jarius. Hold on. Don’t git into a sweat. I want to
tell yer about that air boy. Yer see, about a year ago
L came across a poor chap, who’d run down hill awful
fast ; he’d got into temptation, and tripped. A good deal
like your boy, Mrs. Nutter.
Hannah. My Will? He was a good boy. He’s a
man to-day.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Wal, this here chap wanted work.
He was as penitent as could be ; so I set him to work
among agricultural implements, as a sort of salesman,
paid him fair wages, and a smarter chap you never
see. I noticed he never spent much, and so one day
I asked him what he did with his savings. He didn’t
like to tell at first ; but arter a while he told me that his
* ,
daddy had a kind* of saving-up place — a sugar-bowl, or
64
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
a coffee-pot, or a jug, somewhere, and he used to walk
' off every Saturday night ten miles, creep into the house,
and put it away in the old ju — savings bank. Wal, I
had a reapin’ machine that I had a patent onto, that I
thought a heap on ; but, somehow, it wouldn’t work.
When they got the horses in, and a boy on top of it, and
started the thiug off, for a little while ’twould go first
rate; when, all at once, there’d be a h’ist and spill, and
machine, and horse, and boy would all be mixed up*iu a
heap. It was a bust. AVal, that air boy would look,
and look, and look at that machine, and one day he says
to me, “ I’ve found what’s the matter.” And I’ll be
hauged if he hadn’t. I was so tickled that I jest drew
my check for a thousand dollars, and made him a pres-
ent of it ; and I’ll be hound that air check is in the old
gentleman’s little brown jug.*
Mary. (^Outside.) O, father! mother! (^Runs in,
i..., with jug., followed by Sally.) The jug! the jug!
It’s heaped full of bank notes. {Emptying it itpon
table.^
Sally. Heaps and heaps !
John. Bank notes, aud — What’s this? {Takes up
check.) A check ! “ Pay to William Nutter, or order,
one thousand dollars.” Signed, “ Jarius Jordan.” Jor-
dan, is this your work ?
Jarius. Look at the back.
John. {Reads.) “ AYilliaui Nutter.” My son !
Hannah. Our Will ! My boy ! O, Jarius Jordan !
what does this mean?
Jarius. It means^lory ! Halleluyah ! Fourth of July !
Kingdom come ! It’s a grand emancipation jubilee. The
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
65
boy I’ve been telling yon about is the same boy that vil-
lain, Henry Douglas, led into temptation, Avhom he
charged with forgery, whom I took in hand, set straight,
and who to-day is a man indeed — your son Will, Mrs.
Kutter.
Hannah. I know it, I know it. He’s saved us, he’s
saved us! O, where is he? Where is my boy?
m
, * Enter Will, c.
Will. Here, mother, here’s your own boy again.
Hayinah. (Screams.) O, Will! Will! I knew you’d
come ! I knew you’d come ! (Enns info his arms.)
John. Will, welcome home! (Takeshis hand.) Ev-
erything is forgotten and forgiven. I’m proud to welcome
V
my sou home again.
Will. Home, father, spite of the craft of that man
whom I once called friend. It is ours still. — Mary,
■sister !
Mary. Dear, dear Will, a thousand times welcome !
(Clasps his hand.)
Will. Ah, sister, I have missed you all. Thank
Heaven, I am once more able to meet you without a blush
of shame. '
Ned. -Here’s your old chum, Will ; can you spare a
liand for him ?
Will. (Giving both hands to Ned. ]\Iary leads her
mother to lounge.) Ah, Ned, you have much to forgive.
That cruel blow with the little brown jug !
Ned. Don’t speak of it. You don’t know how much
good it did me. Does he, Mary ?
Jarius. Jes’ so. If it did you any good, give the
5
66
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
credit where it belongs — to Henry Douglas, for he
struck the blow.
Douglas. ’Tis false.
Jarius. It’s the truth, for I saw the act. I didn't tell
on it, for I Avanted a p’int agin Douglas. To-morovv I
shall make a charge of assault with intent to kill. It’s
hung two years, but I guess it’s strong enough to do
some execution.
Douglas. You have no witnesses. Your cdiarge will
fall to the ground, Mr. Jarius Jordan. You have out-
witted me, but you must confess I have plotted safely.
There’s not a point you’ve found to convict me of crime.
You are rather keen. Try it. If I have failed in my at-
tempt to ruin the family of the renowned shoemaker, John
Nutter, I have still the satisfaction of retirino; from the
field with a very handsome profit in the shape of your check
for a thousand dollars, which I shall expect to receive be-
fore night. Good day, all. Nutter, I leave you to join
the hands of your daughter and her accomplished lover.
Give them your blessing, and send me a card. {At door.')
Ha, ha, farewell to Cobbler’s Paradise ! \_Exit., c.
Sally. {Runs up to door.) Good riddance to bad
rubbish. '
Jarius. Sally, Sally, don’t do that. {Runs after her.,
and brings her doiun c.)
Sally. Jarius Jerden, if there’s a Yankee angel, you’re
the critter.
Jarius. Sally, I Avant to ask you — that is — I’m go-
ing to — Consarn it ! Sally, Avill you marry me? Phew !
it’s out at last !
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
67
Sally. Of course I will. I would five years ago, if
you’d only had the spunk to ask me.
Jarius. Jes’ so. I’ve been a donkey. But them
words did stick in my wizzen awful,
Hannah. (Rising.) Law sakes, Mary, don’t try to
keep me on this sofa. T ain’t a bit sick.* I’m just as
well as you are ; and if I don’t dance at your weddin’,
it’ll be because I hain’t got a partner.
Will. You shall not 'want for partners, mother. I
claim the privilege of opening the ball with you.
Hannah. And you shall, Will. Law, my ! how hand-
some you have grown I
John. Hasn’t he, mother! This is a proud day
for us.
Hannah. Yes, indeed ; for Will’s a man to-day.
Will. And, if I am, I owe it all to one who, in the
dark hour, took me by the hand and led me into the light.
Ah, many a poor boy who has been led into temptation
might be saved from a miserable life if a friendly hand
were stretched forth, and a warning word kindly given,
as they were to me by Jarius Jordan — Heaven bless
him 1
Hannah. Ay, Heaven bless you, Jarius. You have
made a mother’s heart happy in the gift of her boy, re-
claimed from sin. May all you seek be yours.
Jarius. Jes’ so — which is Sally. I’ve got her. As
there’s likely to be a matrimonial convention in this house
pretty soon, I appint myself a delegate.
Sally. Second the motion.
John. Ned, I withdraw all objections to your propo-
sal regarding Mary.
68
THE LITTLE BROWN JUG.
Ned. Thank you, Mr. Nutter. — Mary, are you going
to make me happy?
Mary. I’m goiug to try, Ned. And where there’s a
■will there’s a way, you know.
Will. Mother, you don’t know how happy I feel to
be with you agaiu, to see the old home, everything about
the room so familiar ; even the little brown jug has a
familiar look. It was my first temptation.
Jarius. Yes, boy, it was a family temptation. I
knowed it would work trouble. Ah, if the liquid poison
that slays \vas never allowed to show itself in the home,
there would be fewer desolate hearthstones, fewer blighted
lives.
John. - .You’re right, Jarius. TYhen that boy fell, it
opened my eyes, and not a drop of liquor shall ever enter
my doors.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Stick to it, John Nutter. It was a
bad speck. It turned your boy adrift ; but, thanks to a
mother’s love, he fought and conquered.
Will. {Comes uy and takes hand.) Thanks
to you, thanks to you !
Jarius. Wal, I dunno —
Hannah. {Comes and takes other hand.) Jes’
so, Jarius, jes’ so.*
TABLEAU.
Jarius, c. Will clasping his right hand., Mrs. Nutter
his left. John Nutter and Sally, r. Ned and
Mary, l., arm-in-arm.
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Diamond cut 1>iamoiid. An In-
terlude in One Act. IJy W. II. Mur-
ray. 10 Male, 1 Female character.
T.iOok. after Drown. A Farce in
One Act. liy George A. Stuart,
M. D. 6 l\Iale, 1 Female character.
Monseigneur. A Drama in Three
Acts, lly Thomas Archer. 15 Male,
3 Female characters.
A very pleasant Dveuing. A
^ Farce in One Act. By \V. E. Suter.
‘3 Male characters.
Drother Den. A Farce in One
Act. By , I. M. Morton. 3 Male, 3
l-'emale characters.
Only a Clod. A Comic Drama in
One Act. By J. P. Simpson. 4 Male,
1 Female character.
Gaspardo the tiiondolier. A
Drama in Three Acts. By George
Almar. 10 Male, 2 Female charac-
ters.
Sunshine through the Clouds.
A Drama in One Act. By Slingsby
l.awrence. 3 Male, 3 Female char-
acters.
Don’t Judge by Appearances.
A Farce in One Act. By J. M. IMor-
ton. 3 JIale, 2 Female characters.
A'uvsey Chickweed. A Farce in
One Act. By T. J. AVilliams. 4
Male, 2 Female characters.
Mary Moo; or. Which shall I
Marry? A Farce in One Act. By
AV. E. Si'ter. 2 Male, 1 Female
character.
Dast Lynne. A Drama in Five
Acts. 8 Alale, 7 Female characters.
The Hidden Hand. A Drama in
Five Acts. By Kobert Jones. 16
.Male, 7 Female characters.
Sil verstone’s Wager. A Commedi-
etta in One Act. Jiy K. K. Andrews.
4 Alale, 3 Female characters.
Dora. A Pastoral Drama in Three
Acts. By Charles Keade. 5 3Iale,
2 Female eharacter-i.
Dlanks and Prizes. A Farce in
One Act. By Dexter Smith.
Alale, 2 Female characters.
Old tiooseherry. A Farce in O
Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 Mai
2 Female characters.
53.
54.
55.
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57.
58.
59.
GO.
61.
62.
63.
64.
05.
06.
67.
68.
in : 09.
lif
W'ho’s Wlio. A Farce in One Act.
By T. J. Williams. 3 Male, 2 Fe-
male characters.
Douquet. A Farce in One Act. 2
Male, 3 Female characters.
The Wife’s Secret. A Play in
hive Acts. By George AV. Lovclh
10 Male, 2 Female characters.
The Dahes in the Wood. A
Comedy in Three Acts. By Tom
Taylor. 10 Male, 3 Female charac-
ters.
Putkins : Heir to Castles in the
Air. A Comic Drama in One Act.
By AA’’. B. Emerson. 2 Male, 2 Fe-
male characters.
An Pgly Customer. A Farce in
One Act. By Thomas J. AVilliams.
3 Male, 2 Female characters.
Dlue and Cherry. A Comedy in
One Act. 3 31ale, 2 Female charac-
ters.
A Doubtful Victory. A C- medy
in One Act. 3 Male, 2 Female cliar-
acters.
The Scarlet Letter. A Drama in
Three Acts. 8 Male, 7 Female char-
acters.
Wliich will have Him ? A Vau-
deville. 1 Male, 2 Female charac-
ters.
Madam is Abed. A Vaudeville in
One Act. 2 Male, 2 Female charac-
ters.
The Anonymous Kiss. A Vaude-
ville. 2 Male, 2 Female characters.
The Cleft Stick. A Comedy in
Three Acts. 5 Male, 3 Female char-
acters.
A Soldier, a Sailor, a Tinker,
and a Tailor. A Farce in One
Act. 4 Male, 2 Female characters.
Give a Dog a Dad Name. A
Farce. 2 Male, 2 Female Chanicters.
Damon and Pythias. A Farce.
0 Alale, 4 Female characters.
A Husband to Order. A Serio-
Comic Drama in Two Acts. 5 Male,
3 Female characters.
Payable on Demand. A Domes-
tic Drama in Two Acts. 7 Male, 1
Female character.
Price, IS cents each. Descriptive Catalogue mailed free on application to
CEO. M. BAKER Sl CO.,
149 WASHIIfOTOM 8t., BOSTOV.
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LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS
jrx
Plays for Amateur
By GEORGE M. Bt
0 015 785 400 8
Author of “ Amateur Dramas," “ The Mimic Sra/je." “ The Social Stage," “ The Drawing-room Stage,"
■•^-1 Bakers Dozen," Sfc.
Titles in tliis Type «»re IVeiv Plays.
C/s.
DRAMAS.
hi Three Acts.
My Brotlier’s Keeper. 5 male, 3
female characters 15
hi T wo A cts.
Amoii" tlie Breakers. 6 male, 4
female characters 15
Svlvia’s Soldier. 3 male, 2 female char-
acters 15
Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char-
acters 15
Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female
characters 15
Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 fe-
male characters 15
The Last Loaf. 5 male, 3 female char-
acters 15
In One A ct.
Stand BY THE Flag. $ male characters. 15
The Tempter. 3 male, i female charac. 15
COMEDIES and FARCES.
Tlie Boston l>ip . 4 male, 3 female
characters 15
Tlie Bucliess of Dublin. 6 male,
4 female characters 15
We’re all Teetota ler.s. 4 male, 2
female characters 15
A Drop too Much. 4 male, 2 female
characters 15
Thirty Minutes for Refreshment.^.
4 male, 3 female characters 15
A I.iTTLE More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe-
male characters 15
Male Characters Only.
<»entlemen of the Jury. 12 char
A Tender Attacliineut. 7 char.
Tlie Thief of Time. 6 char. .
The Hypochondriac. 5 char.
A Public Benefactor. 6 char.
The Runaways. 4 char. . . .
Coals of Fire. 6 char
Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. .
A Sea of Troubles. 8 char. . . .
FARCES.
Freedom of the Press. 8 char.
A Close Shave. 6 char
The Great Elixir. 9 char. ...
The Man with the Demijohn. 4char
Humors of the Strike. 8 char. .
New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. .
My Uncle the Captain. 6 ch.ir. . .
Female Characters Only.
The Red Chignon. 6 char. . . .
Using the Weed. 7 char
A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char. . .
A Precious Pickle. 6 char . . .
The Greatest Plague in Like. Scha
No Cure, no Pay. 7 char
The Grecian Bend. 7 char
IS
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
I
1
IS
ALLEGORIES.
A rranged /or Music and T ableanx.
The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female
characters 15
Lightheart’s Pilgrimage. 8 femaL-
characters 15
The War of the Roses. 8 female char-
acters 15
The Sculptor’s 'Friumph. 1 male, 4 fe-
male characters 15
MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC.
The Seven Ages. A Tableau En-
tertainment. Numerous male and fe-
male characters 15
Too Late for the Train. 2 male char-
acters 15
Snow bound : or, Alonzo the. Brave
AND THE Fair Imogene. 3 male, i
female character 25
Bonbons; or. The Paint-King. 3 male,
I female character 25
The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male
characters 15
Original Idea. 1 male, i female
'haracter 15
_w,ETTA ; OR. Romeo and Juliet
Restored. 3 male, i female character. 15
enj
^Khr
lPi>i
f Re
TUMPERAyCE PIECES.
The I., AST Loaf. 5 male, 3 female characters 15
The Tempter. 3 male, i female character
We’re all Teetotalers. 4 inaD, 2 female characters
A Drop too Much. 4 male, 2 female characters
A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 female characters i
The Man with the Demijohn. 4 characters 1
X
Oi Oi
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
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