The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poison: A Farce

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Poison: A Farce

Author: George M. Baker

Release date: July 18, 2015 [eBook #49480]

Most recently updated: January 25, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Chuck Greif and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This

file was produced from images generously made available

by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POISON: A FARCE ***

GEO. M. BAKER’S

NEW PLAYS.

PAST REDEMPTION. 4 Acts. Price 25 cts.

COMRADES. 3 Acts. Price 25 cts.

TITANIA. A Fairy Play for Children. 2 Acts. Price 25 cts.

OUR FOLKS. 3 Acts. Price 15 cts.

SANTA CLAUS THE FIRST. A Christmas play for children. By F. E. Chase. 25 c.

REBECCA’S TRIUMPH. For female characters only. Price 25 cts.

Copyright, 1876, by GEORGE M. BAKER.

Spencer’s Universal Stage.

A Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public or Private Performance. Containing a full description of all the necessary Stage Business.

PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. ☞ No Plays Exchanged.

1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3 Acts. 6 male, 4 female characters.

2. NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Acts. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 3 female char.

3. THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. By Mrs. Planche. 3 male, 2 female char.

4. JOHN WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char.

5. THE TURKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 Act. By Montague Williams and F. C. Burnand. 6 male, 1 female char.

6. THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.

7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char.

8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male char.

9. SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 female char.

10. TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A Farce in 1 Act. By Lenox Horne. 4 male, 1 female char.

11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char.

12. THE DAUGHTER of the REGIMENT. A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball, 6 male, 2 female char.

13. AUNT CHARLOTTE’S MAID. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.

14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char.

15. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char.

16. DUNDUCKETTY’S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 6 male, 3 female char.

17. I’VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char.

19. MY PRECIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char.

20. MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char.

22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Farce in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char.

23. DANDELION’S DODGES. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char.

24. A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char.

25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 male, 3 female char.

26. A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy in 2 Acts. By Charles Matthews. 6 male, 4 female char.

27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. By Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3 female char.

28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. By H. T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char.

29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2 female char.

30. SARAH’S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char.

31. HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N. H. Harrington. 7 male, 3 female char.

32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 6 female char.

33. A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char.

34. YOUR LIFE’S IN DANGER. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.

35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Acts. By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6 male, 2 female char.

36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, 1 female char.

37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act. By George A. Stuart, M. D. 6 male, 1 female char.

38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3 Acts. By Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char.

39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male char.

40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char.

41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char.

42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar. 10 male, 2 female char.

43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence. 3 male, 3 female char.

44. DON’T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char.

45. NURSEY CHICKWEED. A Farce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char.

46. MARY MOO; or, Which shall I Marry? A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male, 1 female char.

47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts. 8 male, 7 female char.

48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7 female char.

49. SILVERSTONE’S WAGER. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By R. R. Andrews. 4 male, 3 female char.

50. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By Chas. Reade. 5 male, 2 female char.

55. THE WIFE’S SECRET. A Play in 5 Acts. By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2 female char.

56. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Comedy in 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 female char.

57. PUTKINS; Heir to Castles in the Air. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By W. R. Emerson. 2 male, 2 female char.

58. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. By Thomas J. Williams. 3 male, 2 female char.

59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char.

60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char.

61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 Acts. 8 male, 7 female char.

62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIM? A Vaudeville. 1 male, 2 female char.

63. MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudeville in 1 Act. 2 male, 2 female char.

64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 2 male, 2 female char.

65. THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.

66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 2 female char.

67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 2 male, 2 female char.

68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 male, 4 female char.

69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comic Drama in 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.

70. PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char.

Descriptive Catalogue mailed free on application to

Geo. M. Baker & Co., 47 Franklin St., Boston.

POISON.

A Farce.

AS PERFORMED

BY “THE   HASTY   PUDDING   CLUB”

OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

BOSTON:

GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY.

1882.

Copyright, 1882,

BY GEORGE M. BAKER.

——

All Rights Reserved.

POISON.

A FARCE.

AS ACTED AT THE HASTY PUDDING CLUB, HARVARD COLLEGE, DEC. 20TH, 1881.

CHARACTERS:

MR. THEOPHILUS TWITTERS, a retired sugar merchant

E. J. WENDELL.

GOTTLIEB HUNKER, honorary secretary of the society for the prevention of capital

J. E. WEBB.

DR. CHARLES SQUILLCOX, an apothecary in love with Clara

F. C. WOODBURY.

CLARA TWITTERS

H. C. FRENCH.

THE MOTHER OF THE LATE MRS. TWITTERS

A. MATTHEWS.

MARY JANE

R. T. BABSON.

OFFICER OF THE LAW

H. M. HUBBARD.

SCENE.—Breakfast-room of the suburban villa of Mr. Twitters. The mother of the late Mrs. Twitters and Mary Jane are discovered.

MARY JANE. But I tell you this is Mr. Twitters’ breakfast, mum. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he don’t catch the train this morning. He’s ordered the horse ready since seven o’clock.

MOTHER (breaking an egg). In the midst of life we are in death. I have left my humble lodgings this morning to attend the interment of the remains of our late pastor, the Rev. Dr. Elijah Paddy——a hot muffin, Mary Jane!

MARY JANE. What will master say, mum? There won’t be no breakfast left. He has the alarm-clock set in his hat-bath to wake him at seven, and it made such a noise, mum, that he flung it out the window and went to sleep again. And he’s been rampaging round and ordering breakfast on the table for the last hour.

MOTHER. The carriage will serve me in my sad errand. I have a floral tribute in this box to place upon the grave of the dear departed,——a little more hot toast, Mary Jane,——an anchor, expressive of hope and Christian resignation. It will be but a trifle among the many offerings. The Rev. Mr. Paddy never knew how many friends he had until he was dead (breaking another egg).

MARY JANE. You’re eating the last egg, mum.

MOTHER. I grieve that there is no other egg, but this will suffice to support me through the trying ceremony. He was an eminent Christian,—he had three wives. (Bell rings.)

TWITTERS (without, calling). Has that thundering shoemaker sent my new boots?

MARY JANE (calling at door). Just come, sir.

MOTHER. Cease this unseemly noise, girl (rising), summon the equipage.

MARY JANE. The equipage, mum? I didn’t see you come in no carriage.

MOTHER. My limited earthly resources do not permit me to provide myself with such luxuries. I shall use one of your master’s. My poor, dear, departed daughter, did not survive to enjoy his prosperity. I do.

MARY JANE. But he wants the carriage to go to the train, mum.

MOTHER. Trains go hourly. (Takes up a box. Exit.)

MARY JANE (standing at window). Well, if the late Mrs. Twitters was like this mother of hers, it ain’t no wonder that master’s kind of fidgety like. There,—she’s got hold of John, now, and she’s stepping into the carriage that was going to take master to the train. And she’s druv off! Oh, deary me. What vicious things elderly women can be. (Enter Twitters hastily.)

TWITTERS (Looking at watch). I shall have a close shave for the 9-20 train, but I think I can manage it. Breakfast’s ready of course, of course?

MARY JANE. It was ready sir.

TWITTERS (approaching table). Why, what on earth does this mean?

MARY JANE. The mother of the late Mrs. Twitters—

TWITTERS. The devil!

MARY JANE. No, sir, the mother of—

TWITTERS. Is she here? (With feeling.)

MARY JANE. No, sir, she’s gone.

TWITTERS. Something ghoulish is going on somewhere, then, or she would have stayed. That women is a perfect vulture. If anything horrible happens to anybody, she comes pouncing down to gloat over it. I’m becoming a fiend, myself; I rejoice in the news of any misfortune, for it means temporary deliverance for me from her—has she eaten everything?

MARY JANE. All there was, sir.

TWITTERS. How soon can you get some more?

MARY JANE. It’ll be ten minutes, sir.

TWITTERS. I shall have to breakfast in town, then. I must be off. John’s here, of course?

MARY JANE. No, sir, he’s took.

TWITTERS. Good heavens! A fit?

MARY JANE. No, sir; the mother of the late Mrs. Twitters.

TWITTERS. Where has she taken him?

MARY JANE. To the funeral obelisk of an Irish gentleman, sir.

TWITTERS. To Parson Paddy’s funeral?

MARY JANE. That’s just it, sir.

TWITTERS. I hated that man, but his death caused me deep sorrow. Her cap was set at him. I must run for the train. Where are my boots? Ah, here! (Opening a box and producing a funeral wreath) what in the name of nature is this?

MARY JANE. It’s her’s, sir; she’s been and gone and took the boots to the burying, and she’s left nothing behind but Christian resignation.

TWITTERS. Damn Christian resignation. (Pitches box across stage; a letter falls out; he picks it up and opens it during speech.) Call Miss Clara and tell her I’ll breakfast with her. I can’t get to town till eleven, now. And get something uncommonly good to eat, mind you. A bad temper needs good food.

MARY JANE. Yes, sir; I noticed, sir, how the old lady had a fine appetite.

TWITTERS (severely). Speak civilly of members of my family, if you expect to keep your place. (Glancing at paper, which he has taken from envelope.) Why, the damned old harridan.

MARY JANE. Yes, sir. (Exit.)

TWITTERS (reading). “Theophilus Twitters, Esq., to Grimsby & Weeper, florists. Funeral orders attended with despatch in the latest and tastiest styles. To one Christian resignation, roses, immortelles, etc., $15. A prompt payment is requested.” Then in pencil: “For the sake of our departed Sarah you will please meet this little account.” This is the last straw. I’m a strong camel but my back breaks at this. I’ll give orders that she shan’t be let into the house. And as for this bill, here goes (goes to table and writes): “Grimsby & Weeper; sirs: I won’t pay this rascally, swindling bill, or any other. T. Twitters.” (Rings bell, then sealing letter.) That will settle Christian resignation, I reckon. (Enter CHARLES.)

CHARLES (standing in door with handful of letters, timidly). Mr. T-Twitters—

TWITTERS (not looking up). Come here.

CHARLES (approaching timidly). Yes, Mr. T-Twitters.

TWITTERS. Take this to the post and look sharp.

CHARLES. But I’ve just come from the post, sir.

TWITTERS. What’s that to me? (Looking up.) Dear me, Charles, I thought you were my man. Seen the paper?

CHARLES. I’ve brought it in, sir.

TWITTERS (seizing it). How’s Harshaw this morning?

CHARLES. Why, I never thought of looking, sir. If it had occurred to me that you’d have liked to know—

TWITTERS. 38 7-8! Three per cent. rise! I’m six thousand in pocket! (With a sigh.) You’re a lucky dog, Charles; you don’t tremble whenever you look at a stock-list.

CHARLES. No, sir; I don’t seem to look at one, often. (Nervous.) You’re surprised to see me at this hour, I suppose?

TWITTERS. Hadn’t been—but now you mention it, I am.

CHARLES. You see, I happened in at the post-office, and I saw your mail, and I thought that you might like to have me leave it at your house on my way home.

TWITTERS (laughing). You’re a sly dog, Charles. What time do I go to town?

CHARLES. Why, 9-20 I ’spose, sir.

TWITTERS (pointing to watch). At this moment it’s 9-25, you young rascal, and you have the impudence to say that you came to see me. (Enter MARY JANE.)

MARY JANE. Did you ring, sir?

TWITTERS. Yes. Take this letter to the post, and look sharp (handing letter which he has written); and, I say, tell Miss Clara that there’s a gentleman here that wants to see her. (Exit MARY JANE.)

CHARLES. Here are your letters, Mr. Twitters. I assure you—

TWITTERS. I like your little game, Charles, I like it. Perhaps Clara’ll like it, too, you young Machiavelli. Now don’t pretend you didn’t come to see her. Six thousand in, by Jove. I must sell out Harshaw as soon as I get to town. Bottom’s sure to fall out of it. (Enter CLARA with watering pot.)

CLARA. Good morning, papa dear, (kisses him.) Why, Dr. Squillcox, are you here?

TWITTERS. As if you didn’t expect him.

CLARA. How can you say such things, papa?

CHARLES. Yes, Mr. Twitters, it’s most unjust—

CLARA. If I had expected anybody, should I have brought in this great, heavy watering-pot?

CHARLES. Can’t I hold it Miss Clara? (takes it.)

CLARA. I was going to water my flowers in the garden.

TWITTERS. Go along, my dear: and go along with her, you rascal. (Laughs. Exeunt CHARLES and CLARA laughing.)

TWITTERS (rubbing his hands). There they go. It does my heart good to think that my little Clara has such a good fellow to look after her; and that I can act as the ways and means committee. I’ll take care that their love shan’t fly out of the window. (Opens letter.) Here’s the plumber’s bill. Old Faucet will be rolling in his carriage soon. If Charles gets tired of medicine I’ll set him up as a plumber. (Opens another letter.) Clara’s milliner’s bill. Egad! how Charles’ eyes would open, if they tried love in a cottage on his professional outcome. Hollo! What’s this? Shabby looking letter addressed in a shabby hand. Another bill, I suppose. No. What’s this? (Reads.) “Theophilus Twitters, Bloated Bond-holder. I am a foe to capital and the Grand-master of a secret society organized to cripple said capital, to muzzle monopolists, and to elevate the horny-handed son of toil.” You have a good-sized contract, my friend. “When the copartnership of Tollgate & Twitters engaged in their corner in sugar, and robbed the poor of the luxuries of a free breakfast-table, our society determined to foil you. As their agent, I secretly entered the warehouse in which your hoard of sugar was stored, and secreted in various spots amidst the innocent condiment no less than twelve pounds of arsenic. After having done this, I notified your partner, the aforesaid diabolical Tollgate, of my action, and apprised him that all the sugar must be destroyed,—else poison would be thrown broadcast upon the world. You, as his partner, are affected with notice of this. (As a foe to capital, I have incidentally been trained as a lawyer.) The aforesaid diabolical Tollgate, with your connivance,”—Damn law words. I hate ’em—“With your connivance sold the sugar. Through secret channels the deadly grains of arsenic are distilled into the veins of society. The blushing damsel, receiving taffy from her lover, curls up and dies. The fond mother, pouring out her children’s cambric tea, gives them the black wine of death. Candy-shops are charnel-houses! Society gatherings are volcanos! Ice-cream leads to the grave! And all through you, most miserable of mortals, who lie soft and count your ill-gotten wealth.” (Enter MARY JANE with coffee. He starts to drink.) “But even you are not exempt from the insidious enemy. The very cup of coffee that you may now be raising to your lips may call you to judgment.” (Drops coffee cup.) What sinful nonsense. I shouldn’t give it a thought if it didn’t charge my poor dead partner with such villany. And Tollgate was a Sunday-school superintendent. (Enter MARY JANE with breakfast.)

MARY JANE. The letter’s mailed, sir.

TWITTERS. Letter? What do you know about the letter?

MARY JANE. Sure, you gave it to me, sir.

TWITTERS. No such thing. Ah, to be sure! How absurd to be so discomposed. So breakfast’s ready?

MARY JANE (arranging table). Yes, sir.

TWITTERS (after a short pause, during which he has fidgeted). By the way, Mary Jane, you haven’t happened to hear much illness about of late. Have you?

MARY JANE. Why, sir, there has been folks go off sudden.

TWITTERS. You don’t say so? Who?

MARY JANE. Well, sir; there was poor Mr. Tollgate.

TWITTERS. Apoplexy—apoplexy, beyond all doubt. Caused by the success of our corner.

MARY JANE. Then, sir, there was my grandmother, only last week, sir.

TWITTERS. Yes, I remember. But I’ve remarked that that melancholy event has happened twenty-seven times in the course of the year. I infer that your grandfather was a Mormon.

MARY JANE. Which I consider that remark most unfeeling, sir. And what with waiting on the mother of the late Mrs. Twitters, sir, and getting two breakfasts for you, and having my own grandfather abused, sir, I cannot submit to it, sir.

TWITTERS. Leave the room, girl.

MARY JANE. Which I shall take pleasure in leaving, sir, this day week, sir. (Exit.)

TWITTERS (playing with breakfast things). All right. It’s absurd to think of this matter. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred an anonymous letter is a lie, but if this should turn out to be the hundredth I should be a Borgia. Heavens. What a situation. Why, even my poor daughter would be blighted. I could never permit her to marry and to perpetuate a crime-stained race. I wonder what the effect of arsenic is. Happy thought. I’ll look it up in my encyclopædia. Glad to put the thing to some use. (Takes down the volume.) A-r-t—a-r-s-e-n-i-c. That’s it. (Reads.) “Arsenic is one of the most violent of the acrid poisons. Its use in medicine and toxicological properties are treated under medical jurisprudence.” Damn it. Just my luck. (Looks at bookcase again.) My set stops at “Lam.” Pooh! Pooh! Why, even if the whole thing were true, twelve pounds. (Looks at letter.) Yes, he says twelve pounds—in a whole warehouse full of sugar wouldn’t do more than improve the complexion of the public. I should be a benefactor. (Enter Charles and Clara.)

CLARA. Is breakfast all ready, papa, dear? I’m dreadfully hungry.

TWITTERS. Quite ready, dear.

CHARLES. Where shall I put this? It’s very heavy.

TWITTERS. Heavy?

CHARLES. Yes, you see it is quite full of water. I’m afraid of wetting the carpet, you see.

CLARA. Why! Sure enough! We forgot to water the flowers!

TWITTERS. Forgot it, eh? Young people have queer memories, nowadays. Put that confounded thing in the hall, Charles. You are a medical man. How do you account for the curious prevalence of sudden death?

CHARLES (returning from hall door). Why, I haven’t thought much about it.

TWITTERS. The newspapers talk about arsenic in wall papers. Nonsense, don’t you think so?

CHARLES (soaring to professional fluency). Not a bit of it. Arsenic is the most deadly of drugs.

TWITTERS. Oh, you don’t say so?

CLARA. What a disagreeable subject! Come to breakfast, papa dear. (At table.)

TWITTERS. Stop, Clara, we are not ready for food; I am interested in this matter. How deadly is arsenic—how much would kill?

CHARLES. Well, in wall-papers it’s one thing; in the stomach, it is another.

TWITTERS. Take stomachs. I’m interested.

CHARLES. It’s only common prudence to have your wall-paper tested (looking at paper); I don’t like that green.

TWITTERS. Confound it, sir; I’m talking about stomachs.

CLARA. Papa dear, aren’t you ready?

TWITTERS. Don’t interrupt us. Charles—how much arsenic will kill?

CHARLES. A deadly dose for an adult is five grains.

TWITTERS. How do you weigh it? How many grains to the pound?

CHARLES. Twenty grains make a scruple—there are three scruples in a dram—that’s sixty grains—in an ounce there are eight drams—that makes four hundred and eighty—and in a pound there are twelve ounces—twelve times four hundred and eighty are five thousand seven hundred and sixty.

TWITTERS. Then a pound will kill—?

CHARLES. Five into five once—into seven, once and two over—into twenty-six, five times and one over—and into ten twice. A pound would kill about eleven hundred and fifty-two able-bodied men.

TWITTERS (to himself). Twelve times eleven hundred and—good heavens. (Sinks into chair.)

CLARA. Charles is going to breakfast with us, papa dear.

TWITTERS. Charles! What do you mean by speaking of Dr. Squillcox by his Christian name?

CLARA. Why—you do, papa dear.

TWITTERS. Yes; but I’m not a marriageable young woman.

CLARA (to Charles). You had better speak, dear.

CHARLES. Mr. Twitters—the fact is—

CLARA. Yes, papa; the fact is—

TWITTERS. The fact is, young man, that you have come here before cock-crow, pretending to bring the mail to me—gauzy pretext—

CHARLES. I assure you, Mr. Twitters, I did nothing of the sort.

CLARA. By no means, papa dear. He came to see me; and he is going to ask you—

TWITTERS. I see what he’s at. I consider your behavior surreptitious, sir. What have you to recommend you?

CLARA. He has my love, papa dear. That’s all you have but a little money. Now be a dear, good, sweet papa.

TWITTERS. Sweet! Oh—42,000 grains—I have your love, then?

CLARA. Why, yes, papa.

TWITTERS. Very good. I don’t choose to share it. Your conduct is little better than robbery, sir. You ought to blush redder than the bottles that conceal the poverty of your stock in trade.

CHARLES. My calling is respectable, sir.

TWITTERS. Then follow its example in your conduct, sir.

CHARLES. I shall, sir. (Going.)

CLARA. Charles, are you going away?

CHARLES. Naturally.

TWITTERS. And naturally, sir, you won’t expect to return?

CHARLES. Naturally not, sir. (Exit.)

TWITTERS (aside). There he goes; worthy young fellow. But while this arsenic is hanging over my head there must be no thought of love or marriage in this fated home. Clara, dear, don’t let this trouble you.

CLARA. O, papa, I don’t know which of you troubles me most. You are so harsh and Charles was so—so—

TWITTERS. Pusillanimous, Clara. A single rebuff was enough for him.

CLARA (crying). O, dear! O, dear!

TWITTERS (patting her shoulder). There, dear, there! Remember, as long as I live you have some one to love you.

CLARA. But it isn’t the same thing.

TWITTERS. No, the honest love of a father is lasting—come to breakfast.

CLARA (going to table sobbing). T-two lumps in your coffee, papa?

TWITTERS (with emphasis). Great Heavens! No! (Recovering himself.) That has been my usual dose.

CLARA. Dose! (Sobbing again.) O dear! Poor Charles!

TWITTERS (aside). A deadly dose for an adult is five grains—twelve times eleven hundred and fifty-two—enough to kill twenty-five thousand women and children. The board of water commissioners are a choir of white-robed angels beside my partner if this is true. Why will you put so much sugar in your coffee, dear? You make it a perfect liqueur!

CLARA. I always had a sweet tooth.

TWITTERS. A sweet tooth leads through a heap of dentist’s bills to a set of false ones. I can’t have you eating these horrid sweet things, candies, sweet-meats, ices, and jams. Your dentist’s bills ruin—(he has pulled her coffee cup towards him, and put salt into it).

CLARA. What are you doing with my coffee, papa?

TWITTERS. Putting salt in it; it’s not coffee that hurts you, it’s the mixture of coffee and sugar. I read somewhere that coffee and sugar together make leather.

CLARA. No, papa; tea and milk.

TWITTERS. Coffee and sugar! (Aside.) Of course the letter’s a hoax. It doesn’t disconcert me. But to think of my partner having a monument detailing his Christian virtues! He always passed the contribution box, and, now I think of it, he used to have a great deal of loose change of a Monday. Read me the paper, dear.

CLARA. I don’t like reading aloud. The newspapers are so full of politics and murders and business and accidents.

TWITTERS. I regard the daily paper as a necessary part of every young girl’s education. Here it is.

CLARA (reading). “Double hanging in Atlanta! Pernicious poisoning. A diabolical crime.”

TWITTERS (starting). Eh!

CLARA (reading). “A man poisoned by lemonade administered by his wife. The post-mortem reveals distinct traces of arsenic in the stomach.”

TWITTERS. Clara! Where was it?

CLARA. O, in Kalamazoo, or some such horrid western place.

TWITTERS. Kalamazoo! Great heavens!

CLARA. How can a horrid man in Kalamazoo concern us?

TWITTERS. In no way my dear. (Aside.) I must dissemble—go on.

CLARA (reading). “The unfortunate couple were well known in the highest social circles. The married life of the twain had been unmarred by a cloud. It seems most strange that a train of circumstantial evidence is wound around the unhappy wife, which points”—(stops). Papa, dear, how can a chain point.

TWITTERS. Continue your reading, flippant girl.

CLARA (reading). “Which points at her as the murderess. It seems that, with a noteworthy economy, she alone of the household had access to the sugar barrel.” (Turns and refolds paper.)

TWITTERS (aside). The sugar barrel! In far-off Kalamazoo! That letter bears the stamp of truth.

CLARA (having folded paper, reads). “The lemonade was prepared with her own hands. Traces of arsenic were found in the glass from which the victim drank his last drink; and in the barrel of sugar, which had but just arrived from the highly respectable store of Spicer & Co., not less than half an ounce has already been discovered—” What stupid stuff! Why, papa! What is the matter?

TWITTERS (with his head on his hands, in agony). Nothing, my dear nothing. It is so terrible to think of all that suffering (Enter Hunker).

HUNKER. Mr. Twitters, I believe.

TWITTERS. Yes, what do you want? (Seizing and pocketing paper.)

HUNKER. Your servant was not disposed to introduce me, so I take the liberty of introducing myself.

TWITTERS. I’m not well this morning, sir.

HUNKER (sitting down.) Naturally enough. The morning news doesn’t agree with you, I presume.

TWITTERS (nervous). I don’t understand you.

HUNKER. I have a little business with you—rather private nature. You might prefer to have our young friend here leave the room.

CLARA (rising with dignity). I am going, papa.

HUNKER. Good day—Miss Twitters, I reckon—pleased to have met you. Hope to see more of you. (Exit CLARA.)

TWITTERS. And now, sir, who are you?

HUNKER. “A foe to capital, and the grand master of a society organized to cripple said capital, muzzle monopolists and elevate the horny-handed son of toil”—at your service, sir.

TWITTERS. Ah, you wrote me a letter this morning?

HUNKER. I did.

TWITTERS. The writers of anonymous letters are dealt with according to the law.

HUNKER. So are venders of poisoned food.

TWITTERS. I don’t believe a word of your story.

HUNKER (calmly and deliberately producing papers, which he turns over). I have proofs that arsenic was in the sugar, that the sugar was sold by the copartnership of Tollgate & Twitters, that one if not both of said firm knew of this rather unpleasant adulteration. (Twitters grabs at papers.) Don’t lose your self-control, Twitters, I never do. There are copies.

TWITTERS. Granting your proofs, then,—supposing the whole thing true, you, the poisoner, will suffer more than I, the victim.

HUNKER (calmly). I shall turn State’s evidence.

TWITTERS (sinking back in chair). Good heavens!

HUNKER. See here, Twitters. I’m a fair minded man. In practically maintaining sound economic principles, I’ve concocted a scrape. We’re both in it. We must back each other up.

TWITTERS. What do you want me to do?

HUNKER. Well, I ain’t comfortable.

TWITTERS. Neither am I.

HUNKER. Naturally; you don’t like the prospect of hanging, and I don’t like the prospect of continuing to breakfast from early morning milk-cans, and to bone newspapers to keep me in tobacco. Now, you make me comfortable and I’ll guarantee you shan’t swing.

TWITTERS. Well, well, how much do you want?

HUNKER. I aint mean in money matters. Let’s see—By Jove, Twitters, I like the looks of this box of yours. I’ll make you a visit.

TWITTERS. I’m not joking, sir.

HUNKER. No more am I,—I have proofs; first, that arsenic was in the sugar; second—

TWITTERS. I must yield.

HUNKER. All right, Twitters. You’re more intelligent than you look.

TWITTERS. I have a good back room.

HUNKER. I prefer a front one.

TWITTERS. The front one is mine.

HUNKER. Sorry to inconvenience you, I’m sure, but I can’t put up with a back one.

TWITTERS (aside). Crimes do come home to roost with a vengeance! (Aloud.) Where is your trunk?

HUNKER. Would you believe it, Twitters, I’ve shoved up every thundering rag that ain’t on my back. I’ll borrow of you.

TWITTERS. This passes patience.

HUNKER. It’s hard to bear; but your clothes are good, if they aint handsome. I aint proud. But proud or not, I want a bath. If you’ll believe it, Twitters, I’ve not bathed since—but we won’t be unpleasant and vulgar, will we?

TWITTERS. The servant will show you to the bath-room.

HUNKER. You’d better do it yourself, Twitters; I don’t like to lose sight of you—not that you’re so awful handsome to look at, but—you twig? Thanks, I’ll sample your strong waters (pouring brandy from decanter to goblet and drinking). Where’s the bath-room?

TWITTERS. This way.

HUNKER. All right. Now you treat me fair, and I’ll treat you fair. (Smacking his lips.) I’m square. That’s prime tipple. (Exeunt.)

CHARLES (appearing at window). Nobody’s here. I must see Clara! (Door opens.) I wouldn’t be seen. Twitters is capable of setting dogs on me. (Dodges down. Enter CLARA.)

CLARA. Papa! Is that horrid man gone? Papa?

CHARLES (appearing again). Hush!

CLARA (starting and turning). Oh!—It’s you, and crawling through the window. Dr. Squillcox.

CHARLES. “Dr. Squillcox.” O, Clara—come here.

CLARA (approaching window). I hate you. If you had really loved me you would have shown more courage with papa.

CHARLES. It was insane of me to ask a man for his daughter’s hand before he had eaten his breakfast. (Takes her hand.) But it’s all serene, little girl. I’ll make it well. (Kisses her.)

CLARA. It doesn’t make it well at all.

CHARLES. I have such an immense plan. You must be taken very ill, this afternoon. Your father will forget his dyspepsia in worrying over you. All remedies they give you must fail. Old Dr. Parkinson is away, and—

CLARA (clapping her hands). And papa will have to send for you. At your first powder—you mustn’t give me pills—I can’t take them—I’ll get well immediately.

CHARLES. And your papa, delighted at my skill, will give your hand to your preserver.

CLARA. How clever you are, Charles! (Noise without.) Go away. Somebody’s coming. (Charles disappears.)

(Enter TWITTERS.)

TWITTERS (advancing thoughtfully, aside). I wonder if the brand of Cain is perceptible upon my brow. To think that I should be the cause of all this suffering! That no day may pass without a death which proper investigation might lay at my door! That all my life must be passed with this terrible man. I cannot endure it! (Sits down.)

CLARA (approaching him). Why, papa, you look ill.

TWITTERS. Ill! Yes, this is a wicked world, Clara. I meant to strew your path with roses, to hide from you the villainy—

HUNKER (without, shouting). Towels, Twitters.

CLARA. O, dear! What is that?

TWITTERS (rising). It is the voice of fate. (Calling.) Coming, sir.

CLARA. What do you mean?

HUNKER (without). Found ’em! No matter!

TWITTERS. A gentleman is come to stay with me, dear; and while he is here, we shall have so much business together that I have been thinking that it might be well for you to visit your kind grandmother.

CLARA. But I don’t want to. Grandma has horrid things to eat. Who is this gentleman?

TWITTERS. You saw him here, this morning.

CLARA. That horrid, dirty man!

TWITTERS. An old friend of my boyhood, Clara—a worthy man, whom the world has dog’s-eared by hard usage. I am superior to prejudice, but I cannot expect you to be.

CLARA. I should hope not.

TWITTERS. So you had better go at once, dear. I’ll send your things. He is rough, I know, but he has a gentle, kind heart—

HUNKER (without). I say, Twitters! Where are you? Damn you!

TWITTERS (calling). Here, sir. (To Clara.) Go away, dear, quickly.

(Clara goes toward door. As she reaches it, Hunker appears and meets her, face to face. He is showily dressed in clothes of Twitters’, somewhat too small.)

HUNKER (bowing). Much obliged, miss; you were coming to show me the way, I ’spose. I’ve found it, you see. I heard your lovely voice.

TWITTERS. My daughter was going out, Mr. Hunker.

HUNKER. I guess she’d better not. It ain’t a nice day out.

CLARA. I beg your pardon, sir.

HUNKER. Twitters, this young woman mustn’t go out. Do you twig?

CLARA. Good-bye, papa.

TWITTERS. You had better stay, dear. (Clara stops, amazed.)

HUNKER. So I think. (Drawing long breath.) I feel like a new man, and I’m going to give the new man a drink. (Pouring out brandy again.) What’s her name, Twitters?

TWITTERS. My daughter is named Clara, sir.

HUNKER. Lovely name. Here’s to Clara (drinking). Sit down; we’ll soon be pals.

TWITTERS. Sit down, dear. (Clara sits amazed.)

HUNKER. Two young people like us can’t be thrown together in a house without liking each other pretty well?

CLARA (to Twitters). I cannot submit to this, papa.

TWITTERS (to Clara). We should never take offence when none is meant, dear.

HUNKER. I’m an adventurous cuss, Miss Clara—just on from Arizona to float a gold mine on the eastern market. Going to let Twitters in at bed-rock prices—eh, Twitters?

TWITTERS. Yes, yes, of course.

HUNKER. We had hard old sledding on the plains, at times, Miss Clara.

CLARA. Indeed, sir!

HUNKER. Chased by Indians twenty miles, riding with Custer—you know Custer? Seventeen of them miles I had a bullet in my leg (starting to pull up his trouser leg)—want to see the scar?

CLARA (with terror). No! No!

HUNKER (pleased with himself). O, we’re kindred spirits; we’ll soon be friends. I like your New England country. As Lady Franklin said to me, when we was taking supper together on the Oregon steamer. She was goin’ to hunt up John’s bones in Sitka, where I kept a hotel—“Beans is a benevolent institution, Mr. Hunker,” says she. “You’re right, Lady F.,” says I. Now speak up, if you’re talked to death, Miss Clara.

CLARA. I have nothing to say.

HUNKER. All right. I can talk right along,—keep it up forever. By George, it would be funny if you and I should conclude to keep it up forever—eh, Clara?

CLARA. I don’t understand this man, papa.

TWITTERS. He is a rough diamond, dear.

CLARA. Then he ought to be “cut.”

HUNKER. Why, make a match of it.

CLARA (aside). O dear. I shall be ill, really. I must send for Charles. (Aloud.) Papa, I don’t feel well.

TWITTERS (starting). Eh, my dear! What’s the matter?

CLARA. I have a head-ache.—

HUNKER. Have you been eating sugar?

TWITTERS (agonized). I fear so.

HUNKER. Does your throat burn?

CLARA (faintly). Yes, yes, I want to lie down (they lead her to sofa).

HUNKER. My God! It’s the symptoms—see what you’ve done!

TWITTERS. I, you miserable man! Behold your work!

HUNKER. No time for fooling, Twitters. I know the antidote. I’ll run to the nearest apothecary—it’s too bad, I vow! Here, give me sixty cents. (Exit.)

TWITTERS. There you are, my poor child! (Gets towel, which he wets with cologne and puts to her head.) Does that help you?

CLARA. O papa. It doesn’t make me any better! Send for the doctor!

TWITTERS. Yes, yes. (Aside.) If the doctor should discover poisoning! If it should be traced to me!

CLARA (faintly). Dr. Squillcox—the other one’s away.

MOTHER (without). Where is Twitters? I will see him. (Enter Mother.)

MOTHER. You are here—I entered the hushed chamber where all that was mortal of the sainted Elijah Paddy was lying—

TWITTERS. Don’t talk of death.

MOTHER. Overcome by emotion, I averted my head, and blindly removing the brown paper wrapping, I placed upon the heart of the departed what I thought to be a floral tribute—a lovely anchor, expressive of hope and christian resignation—

TWITTERS. Can’t you see that poor Clara is ill? Be still, woman.

MOTHER. Who insults me by calling me woman? I stood with averted face. A stir of excitement thrilled the hushed and weeping assembly as my offering was seen. Touched by this appreciation of my tribute, I turned to take a last view of all that was earthly of the departed—there, amid a heap of roses and camellias lay those odious boots. (Pulling them from under her cloak, holding them at arm’s length and throwing them down.) Without a word I fled. I am undone forever.

TWITTERS. Say no more of boots. Look at my suffering child and hold your peace.

MOTHER. I need no word from you to succor my departed Sarah’s child (walking towards the couch. She snatches at TWITTERS’ hand). Your allopathic doses are killing her (producing phial). These pellets will cure her (starts to give CLARA pills).

TWITTERS. No sugar pills! For heaven’s sake, no sugar!

MOTHER (severely). These are rendered efficacious by an infinitesimal reduction of arsenic.

TWITTERS (in agony). Give them to me. (Struggling with her.)

MOTHER. Prejudiced monster. Like cures like. (They struggle for the phial. Twitters wrenches it away and flings it into the fire-place. Mother stands panting with rage.)

(Enter an Officer of the Law.)

OFFICER. Theophilus Twitters?

TWITTERS (excited). Yes, what is it?

OFFICER. I arrest you, in the name of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

TWITTERS (agonized). The blow is fallen!

MOTHER (between horror and joy). O that I should have lived to see this day! (Crossing to CLARA.) My poor child, your mother’s mother will care for you, while your sinful parent expiates his crimes!

CLARA (aside). Why doesn’t Charles come?

TWITTERS (imploring). Officer, a few moments with my suffering child.

OFFICER. Couldn’t think of it. Get your hat.

(Enter HUNKER, hastily, followed by CHARLES).

HUNKER (recognizing OFFICER, aside). Thunder. There’s a copp. (Aloud, with tremor.) What’s wanted?

OFFICER (sententiously). Twitters.

CHARLES (coming forward). And this man, too—

HUNKER (imploring). Shut up! I’ll fix things!

CHARLES. A few weeks ago he came to me and offered me a large sum for twelve pounds of arsenic—to kill rats, he said, but—

CLARA (who has risen in her excitement). But, what?

TWITTERS (trembling with excitement). But what, Charles?

CHARLES. But that he might not go elsewhere—for I saw that his end was crime—I sold him powdered sugar!

TWITTERS. Powdered sugar! A mountain has rolled off my breast! You’re an angel, Charles!

HUNKER (enraged). You’re a damned mean apothecary!

TWITTERS. Officer, you don’t want me now?

OFFICER. I don’t see how all this makes any difference in the suit of Grimsby et al. v. Twitters,—criminal libel.

TWITTERS. Grimsby & Weeper!

OFFICER. Them’s the people. You called them rascally swindlers.

MOTHER. The makers of my tribute.

TWITTERS. They didn’t like my letter?

OFFICER. That’s so. But you’re a stampy old duffer. This gentleman (pointing to CHARLES) will go surety on your bond?

HUNKER. Good day, gents and ladies (starts to go. To CLARA). Now our match is off, you’ve got well putty quick. Good day.

OFFICER. See here (touching his shoulder).

HUNKER. I aint libelled nobody.

OFFICER. Dry up! Come along with me. I want your phiz in the rogues’ gallery.

HUNKER (putting hat on one side). I guess I can screw it up so as you won’t know it again. I say, Twitters, I’ve made a suit of clothes out of this, anyhow. (Exeunt.)

TWITTERS (to CLARA). Ah, you sly puss! Charles was the medicine you needed! Here, Charles, she’s your’s and half my fortune with her. Thank heaven, I’m not a blear-eyed Borgia, chumming with a prison-bird.

CLARA. I don’t understand you, papa.

TWITTERS. No reason you should, my dear. Everything is bright and happy, excepting that I shall lose my little girl and be left all alone.

MOTHER (embracing him). I will take her place, Theophilus. The past shall be forgotten. I will never desert the lonely husband of my departed Sarah.

TWITTERS (shaking her off. To himself). I shall have to send for Hunker.

Curtain.

Always Get the Best. 50 of the Choicest Selections in the

No.1

Reading Club and Handy Speaker.

Edited by GEORGE M. BAKER.

Price, cloth, 50 cents; paper, 15 cents.

CONTENTS.

The Red Jacket

George M. Baker.

Old Age

Mahmoud

Leigh Hunt.

The Closet Scene from “Hamlet”

How he saved St. Michael’s

Aldine.

Samson

The Story of the Bad Little Boy who didn’t come to Grief

Mark Twain.

Mr. Caudle and his Second Wife

Douglas Jerrold’s Fireside Saints.

Tauler

Whittier.

The Doorstep

E. C. Stedman.

Old Farmer Gray gets photographed

John H. Yates.

Mr. O’Gallagher’s Three Roads to Learning

Capt. Marryat.

The Jester’s Sermon

Walter Thornbury.

“The Boofer Lady”

Dickens’s “Mutual Friend.”

Defiance of Harold the Dauntless

Scott.

Battle Hymn

Körner.

The Story of the Faithful Soul

Adelaide Procter.

“Curfew must not ring To-Night”

Rosa Hartwick Thorpe.

The Showman’s Courtship

Artemus Ward.

How Terry saved his Bacon

The Senator’s Pledge

Charles Sumner.

Overthrow of Belshazzar

Barry Cornwall.

The Hour of Prayer

Mrs. Hemans.

The Squire’s Story

John Phœnix.

The Happiest Couple

Sheridan.

Godiva

Tennyson.

Farmer Bent’s Sheep-Washing

The Deutsch Maud Muller

Carl Pretzel.

Charles Sumner

Carl Schurz.

The Bricklayers

G. H. Barnes.

A Stranger in the Pew

Harper’s Mag.

The Mistletoe-Bough

Bayley.

The Puzzled Census-Taker

J. G. Saxe.

The Voices at the Throne

I. Westwood.

Hans Breitmann’s Party

Charles G. Leland.

Rob Roy MacGregor

Walter Scott.

Der Drummer

Charles F. Adams.

The Yankee and the Dutchman’s Dog

Popping the Question

The Bumpkin’s Courtship

The Happy Life

Sir Henry Wotton.

At the Soldiers’ Graves

Robert Collyer.

Nobody there

Anonymous.

The Factory Girl’s Diary

Morton.

In the Tunnel

“Jones”

The Whistler

“Good and Better”

Jakie on Watermelon Pickle

The Old Methodist’s Testimony

Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price.

LEE and SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston.

You will find one of your Favorites among 50 of the Choicest Selections in the

No.2

Reading Club and Handy Speaker.

Edited by GEORGE M. BAKER.

Price, cloth, 50 cents; paper, 15 cents.

CONTENTS.

The Rescue

John Brownjohn.

The Pickwickians on Ice

Dickens.

A Picture

Mrs. H. A. Bingham.

Tobe’s Monument

Elizabeth Kilham.

The Two Anchors

R. H. Stoddard.

The Old Ways and the New

John H. Yates.

By the Alma River

Miss Muloch.

Trial Scene from “Merchant of Venice”

Shakspeare.

The Sisters

John G. Whittier.

Farm-Yard Song

The Fortune-Hunter

John G. Saxe.

Curing a Cold

Mark Twain.

In the Bottom Drawer

Two Irish Idyls

Alfred Perceval Graves.

Over the River

Priest.

The Modest Cousin

Sheridan Knowles.

Biddy’s Troubles

The Man with a Cold in his Head

Harry and I

The Shadow on the Wall

The Little Puzzler

Sarah M. B. Piatt.

A Traveller’s Evening Song

Mrs. Hemans.

Calling a Boy in the Morning

Cooking and Courting

Tom to Ned.

A Tragical Tale of the Tropics

The Paddock Elms

B. E. Woolf.

The Bobolink

Aldine.

Toothache

The Opening of the Piano

Atlantic Monthly.

Press On

Park Benjamin.

The Beauty of Youth

Theodore Parker.

Queen Mab

Romeo and Juliet.

A Militia General

Thomas Corwin.

Address of Spottycus

Our Visitor, and what he came for

“What’s the Matter with that Nose?”

Our Fat Contributor.

Workers and Thinkers

Ruskin.

The Last Ride

Nora Perry.

Baby Atlas

Possession

Owen Meredith.

There is no Death

Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.

The Learned Negro

Congregationalist.

Nearer, my God, to Thee

Sarah F. Adams.

A Short Sermon

Not by a Hard-Shell Baptist.

Goin’ Home To-day

W. M. Carleton.

The Broken Pitcher

Anonymous.

A Baby’s Soliloquy

The Double Sacrifice

Arthur William Austin.

Sunday Morning

George A. Baker, jun.

The Quaker Meeting

Samuel Lover.

Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, and sent by mail, on receipt of price.

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston.

NOVELTIES IN ENTERTAINMENTS.

B A L L A D S   I N   B L A C K.

A Series or Original Readings, to be produced as

SHADOW PANTOMIMES.

With Full Directions for Representation, by F. E. CHASE.

Illustrated with Fifty full-page Silhouettes, by J. F. GOODRICH, containing the following Pantomimes:

DRINK,

ANONYMOUS,

DRIGGS AND HIS DOUBLE,

CINDERELLA,

ORPHEUS, THE ORGAN-GRINDER,

IN PAWN.

Price in Boards, Illustrated Cover, $1.00.

Either of the above pantomimes will be sold singly at 25 cents.

A.   W A R D’ S   W A X   F I G G E R   S H O W.

“A serious of wax statoots ecalled by few, and exceld by none.”

Arranged as an entertainment similar to the well-known Jarley’s Wax Works; with a descriptive lecture in the language of the renowned humourist.

PRICE 25 CTS.

AN   ORIGINAL   OPERETTA.

For two male and two female characters, entitled,

ANASTASIA; or, The Peer and the Pretty One,

By HENRY M. BAKER. Price 25 Cts.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POISON: A FARCE ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

back

back

Table of Contents

POISON.

POISON.

CHARACTERS:

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE