Part 2

_Billy._ (_Outside._) Billy Buttercup.

_Mrs. S._ Billy Buttercup! Why, he is the negro who works at the hotel at our village! [_Flies to door and opens it._] Come right in.

_Enter_ Billy. _Makes a low bow._

_Billy._ Is dis yere de place whar Mr. Skidmore lives?

_Mrs. S._ Don’t you know me, Billy?

_Billy._ Well, I swar! Youse kin strike me wid a cannon ball if dis ain’t Mattie Clamjuice!

_Mr. S._ Mrs. Skidmore, sir.

_Billy._ Sure ’nuff. I done forgot, Mattie, dat you had married dat old Turk yonder. Gracious, Mattie, you am looking as putty as a sunflower. Getting hitched seems to agree wid youse, chile.

_Mrs. S._ Oh, Billy, I’m so glad to see you.

_Billy._ De mutuality ob de gladness am mutual. You see, I’ve come just from home.

_Mrs. S._ Just from home? then you know all of the news?

_Billy._ Ebery bit, but----

_Mrs. S._ Well, what, Billy?

_Billy._ You see I is in training for a yacht race, an’ my trainer says dat I must hab a ham-sandwich at eight o’clock ebery night, or----

_Mrs. S._ Go on, Billy.

_Billy._ It’s crowding onto eight, now. Tumble?

_Mrs. S._ What?

_Billy._ Has the sandwich snap struck you yet?

_Mrs. S._ Oh, you would like a sandwich?

_Billy._ I could make love to one beautifully.

_Mrs. S._ You shall have two, Billy, if you want them.

_Billy._ Well, make it three; three’s company; two ain’t.

_Mrs. S._ Certainly. George!

_Mr. S._ Well, my dear.

_Mrs. S._ Just go down into the kitchen, will you, and make some sandwiches for this gentleman.

_Mr. S._ I like that, I must say. Me make sandwiches for a negro. Why don’t he buy his own sandwiches?

_Mrs. S._ That’ll do, George; remember he is just from home.

_Billy._ Yes, George, remember that. And don’t be afraid of the mustard. And I say, George, cut the bread fleshy.

_Mr. S._ Sir, you are insolent!

_Billy._ I am not. I am a South African Pasha!

_Mr. S._ Confound that negro! [_Exit R._ 1 _E._

_Mrs. S._ Now, Billy, he’s gone, we can have a nice talk. How is my father?

_Billy._ Bully. [_Both take seats on lounge._

_Mrs. S._ Did he send a message to me?

_Billy._ Oh, yes. Said he wanted five dollars, and sent you his love. Nice old man, your father; folks all like him; going to light up the town when he dies.

_Mrs. S._ And brother Willy?

_Billy._ He’s got a new boarding-house. Free clothes, free meals, don’t charge a cent for your room, cuts your hair in the bargain. He stole a ham; judge said thirty days; couldn’t make it less.

_Mrs. S._ Poor Willy! But how is sister Sue?

_Billy._ Youse didn’t hear about yer sistah Sue?

_Mrs. S._ Why, no.

_Billy._ Oh, big news!

_Mrs. S._ Oh, tell me! She isn’t dead?

_Billy._ Next to it. Married, and got eleven children.

_Mrs. S._ Impossible!

_Billy._ No, it ain’t. She scooped in a widower; children already made. Dey’re coming down to eat you out ob de house pretty soon.

_Mrs. S._ I do declare. How are all the rest of the folks?

_Billy._ You know Squire Jawbone?

_Mrs. S._ Oh, yes.

_Billy._ He’s gone to join the band.

_Mrs. S._ What band?

_Billy._ De ole man’s skipped de golden gutter. He’s passed in his checks, an’ got off de cars. He is dead!

_Mrs. S._ Squire Jawbone dead!

_Billy._ You’d think so, if you saw the undertaker’s bill.

_Mrs. S._ How did it happen?

_Billy._ He put some water in his whisky. Never had done it before, broke up his constitution. De jury said dat he died ob internal drounding.

_Mrs. S._ How awful!

_Billy._ Youse kin gamble high dat it was. Allus take youse whisky straight. Den youse know little Edwardo Pancake, his father works in a laundry, blowing dirt off of collars?

_Mrs. S._ Know him well.

_Billy._ He’s in de hospital. All three of his arms broke off, backbone knocked clear up into his mouth, and he can’t chew.

_Mrs. S._ You don’t say, Billy?

_Billy._ Yes, I do. I wouldn’t tell a lie for less than a dollar. Poor Edwardo’s all broke up. They’ve got him gummed together with mucilage, and it makes him awful stuck up, won’t notice anybody. But he’s in a bad way. His little sister came in and called him a liar yesterday, and he only had animation enough to kick one of her teeth out.

_Mrs. S._ How did it happen, Billy? What hurt him?

_Billy._ Youse see, he borrowed de meat-knife to clean his nails with. He soon got tired ob dat, an’ thought dat he would carve his monogram on de stern ob his father’s mule. He tried it! De mule braced right up--whoosh!--bang!--Edwardo lived in Boston, an’ dey picked him up in New Orleans.

_Mrs. S._ Too bad. How is the cow, Billy?

_Billy._ What, de ole cow dat you an’ me used to ride bareback on?

_Mrs. S._ That’s the one.

_Billy._ Ki, didn’t we have fun?

_Mrs. S._ Lots.

_Billy._ ’Member how I used to grab hold ob her tail an’ try fo’ to steer her? Golly, dat was fun.

_Mrs. S._ You and I used to be great friends.

_Billy._ Yes, indeedy. I’d neber steal a piece ob sponge-cake widout I’d lay it on you; we used to slide up hill togedder, play rock on a duck, shinny on you own side, let her fly, an’ all de other games. Tell you what, youse folks were powerful disappointed, cos I wouldn’t hab youse.

_Mrs. S._ Why, Billy!

_Billy._ Dat’s so. But say, Mattie, how much did de chance cost?

_Mrs. S._ What chance?

_Billy._ De chance at de raffle, dat you drew de riddle dat’s gone out to juggle wid de sandwiches!

_Mrs. S._ Don’t speak of him that way, Billy. He’s a good husband.

_Billy._ I know it. One ob de kind dat come done up in bunches--ten cents a bunch.

_Mrs. S._ But maybe I might have married better.

_Billy._ Ob course; me, for example.

_Mrs. S._ Nonsense--now there was Captain Charley.

_Billy._ I remember him. Used to wear his nose in joints, and had his hair cracked in the middle. Nice gemmen.

_Mrs. S._ He was that, Billy. I should like to see him again.

_Billy._ So would the boss ob de hash-house where he boarded. Captain skipped, and nebber paid a cent.

_Mrs. S._ But he loved me, Billy.

_Billy._ Ob course--it’s catching.

_Mrs. S._ And he would come and sit on the sofa by me, same as we are sitting.

_Billy._ (_Aside._) Oh, yum!

_Mrs. S._ He would draw closer to me.

_Billy._ (_Drawing closer to her. Aside._) You little rascal.

_Mrs. S._ He would reach my side.

_Billy._ (_Sitting by her._) Ain’t youse awful. Go way dah, or I’ll hit youse wif a suspender.

_Mrs. S._ He would pass his arm around my waist.

_Billy._ (_Passing arm around her waist._) What do yer say? I should blush if anybody should see me.

_Mrs. S._ And he would----

_Billy._ Would what?

_Mrs. S._ Kiss me.

[Billy _kisses her. She springs up in surprise._

_Enter_ Mr. S. _R._ 1 _E.--Throws sandwiches at_ Billy.

_Mr. S._ Aha, villain! you have kissed my wife. Your blood be on your head!

_Billy._ No, my hat. I guess it is about time for me to dust.

_Mr. S._ You will never leave this place alive.

[_Seizes_ Billy _by the collar; lively melee ensues. Finally_ Mr. S. _gets_ Billy _on the floor, and draws a big pistol_.

_Mr. S._ Scoundrelly wretch--die!

[Mrs. S. _rushes forward and knocks up the pistol_.

_Mrs. S._ Spare him, George: for he’s----

_Billy._ Just from home!

[_Tableau. Flats close in._

[CURTAIN.]

HANS BUMMELSTINE ON LOVE.

A Burlesque German Stump Speech.

BY LARRY TOOLEY.

Mine Frendts:--At the earnest solicidation of several frendts of mine, now in states brison, I have succeeded in getting permission to afflict you mid dis lecdure. Dis lecdure vos written while I was demporarily insane, and consequently everyding indo it vos displeasing.

The subject which I haf chosen is Lofe. As the poet says, “Lofe--lofe! oh, vot vos lofe?” Id is a conundrum. My exberience of lofe--my brudder vos engaged seventeen dimes--deaches me dat it vos someding in dis style.

Before you vos spliced your girl throws pop-corn balls at you, and calls you “Daisy.” After you vos spliced she does the same ding; except dat she uses stones und flad-irons instead of pop-corn balls, und calls you “Devil.”

But lofe vos nice.

Oh, yes, vot can be nicer than to dake your girl oud for a ride in a piano truck and visper tales of agony amongst her back hair. Und den you dell her dat she lofes some other feller better than she does yourself, and haf her tell you dat yot vos a liar. Oh, dat vos bully.

Courting, dough, dat is the best dime of a young man’s life.

Dot vos de period ven he puts herosene oil mit his hair, gets his collar vhite-vashed, ties his father’s suspender around his neck for a gravat, und polishes up his rubber boots mit stove-placking.

Den he goes out to mash his girl.

She has been leaning out of the garret vinder vatching for him for most of the afternoon, but as soon as she sees him come around the corner she goes down to the door, is much surprised to see him, und gifs him liquorice to de effect dat she didn’t expect him for the next six weeks, und vos shust coming oud to see dat somebody didn’t sdeal the sdoop.

Then you go into the parlor und dake a seat on the mantel piece, und you ax her vos her fader sick, vhether her mother had the group yet, how long before her brudder vould come off the island, und so forth.

Den you carelessly insert your hand into your pocked und ask her does she like rock candy.

She smiles und says yes.

Den you dell her you know vhere there vos a store vhere dey keep pully rock candy, und den you pull avay your hand from oud of your pockeds mit a cigar in it, und light it.

She don’t see the joke und gets mad und goes avay to the other end of the beer saloon, vhile you dink vot a funny cuss you vos.

By-und-by she says dat she expegts other company; dat dere vos a young man who vos rich und owned two chicken-houses in Hobogen vos coming to see her, und dat if dere vos anybody dat vanted to see you, you had petter not keep dem waiting.

Den you get mad.

You dell her dat dere vos sixdeen young ladies dat vos dying because you von’t speak mit dem, und dat you von’t come into her old house again if it vos to be struck mit thunder. After dat you get up und valk like a funeral towards the door.

Dat fetches her.

She casts a glance at you und asks vhere you vos going, und you rebly dat you vos going to drown yourself, or else go ’round und pick up anodder mash.

She looks sad und remarks oud of the vinder dat you don’t lofe her, but vos only playing her for a flat.

You say it vos a lie, und say dat you lofe her so much dat you could pawn her vooden sleeves-buttons to buy yourself a Christmas present mit.

Den she gets up und flies to your arms, und by-und-by you take her around the corner and hang up the Italian for one plate of cream mit two spoons. Ah, dat vos de panorama of lofe.

Let me say, my fellow drunkard, dat a veller who marries a girl for her money is a scoundhrel, I vould villingly be a scoundhrel mineself, did opportunity permit.

A man should lofe a girl for herself not for her relations, und if she was born an orphan or her parents vos avay at her birth, so much the better.

Den when summer time comes he von’t haf to cart his vife, und her sister, und her mother, und her bruther dat vos out of vork, to the country, und haf the pleasure of paying all the bills.

Lofe it vos a funny ting.

Lofe vas vot makes a young man of America git six dollars a veek und spend seven of it in buying collars. Lofe is vot makes him feel dat his face vos never clean, dat his pants vas busted behind und dat his feet are the size of tea chests.

Lofe is vot makes him clean his teeth mit the shoe-brush twelve dimes a day, und wear a coffe-rose mit his button-hole every dime dat he passes his sweedheart’s door.

But de vorst of lofe is ven id turns oud der best. Dat ish to say, ven you ged married.

It vas nice to be a fader, some grazyman remarked, but I don’d see id. Maybe it vos peyewtiful to dake de smallest kid up mit your arms, und haf him tickle you under de chin as innocent as a fall sheep, und den, five minutes lader, draw picters all over your new glean shird mit de gravy-spoon. Some folks may like dat, but as for me, I pass id every dime.

But ven de children ingrease, two or dree at a dime, den de picnic begins. How nice id vos to ged up in de nighd mit de dwins, und valk aroundt de plock mit dem, in your nighd shird, to keeb dem from keebing avake. Dat is vot makes murderers oud of men.

But I dink dat I must conglude. I am a married man, und--vell, my vife keebs de nighd-key, I might lose id, und--vell, however, those of you who are married men, know how id vos yourselves, don’d id?

Thanking you all for the very kind vay in vich you haf been baying attention to someding else during my remarks, I conglude, hoping to come before you mit a new lecture before long.

A PRACTICAL JOKE.

An Amusing Negro Farce.

BY BILLY BARRY.

Performed by him at Tony Pastor’s, New York.

CHARACTERS:

STUMPY VANDERBILT. ALONZO STETSON. AUGUSTUS ASTOR. ALPHONSO LELAND.

SCENE.--_A street._

_Enter all of the characters, arm in arm, R._ 2. _E., all singing_.

“The club had a meeting to-night, love! Of business we had a great sight, love! Don’t think for a moment I’m tight, love! I’ve only been down to the club!”

_Stumpy._ See here, Alonzo.

_Alon._ Shout away.

_Stumpy._ Don’t you play that on me again.

_Alon._ Play what?

_Stumpy._ French brandy, twenty-five cents a glass. Do you take me for the mint?

_Alon._ You said to take what I wanted.

_Stumpy._ Spozen you wanted the whole saloon, would you took that? Hereafter, when you drink with me--lager, five cents.

_Alon._ All right. [_Laughs as if a thought had just struck him._] See here, Augustus, I want to see you privately a minute. Gentlemen, excuse us.

_Stumpy and Alph._ Oh, certainly!

[Alonzo _takes_ Augustus _to one side of stage_. Stumpy _and_ Alphonso _engage in conversation inaudibly at back_.

_Alon._ You know Charlie Gilsey, Augustus?

_Aug._ Charlie Gilsey, that belongs to our club?

_Alon._ Yes.

_Aug._ I know him well--he owes me a dollar.

_Alon._ Well, Charlie went on a regular old hurrah, the other night. Got blind drunk, stole door-knobs and area gates, and he got run in by the cops. Took him to the Tombs to await his trial. You see, it was an awful disgrace. Charlie is one of the first families, when all the rest are out of town, and it drove him off of his center.

_Aug._ Did what?

_Alon._ Sent him lending out brains. Made him crazy.

_Aug._ Poor fellow!

_Alon._ Oh, it was tough. Well, you know the warden liked Charlie; used to grub him good. No use, Charlie wouldn’t eat anything. Just the other day he sent a waiter up with a tray of broiled chicken.

_Aug._ Broiled chicken! oh, yum!

_Alon._ Yes, broiled chicken, with grape sauce. Charlie ups and kicks the tray clean out of the waiter’s hands. Then he went for the waiter, hit him under the ear, jumped on him, and so on. The waiter couldn’t stand it. What do you suppose he did?

_Aug._ What?

_Alon._ Hit him, _so_. [_Slaps_ Augustus’ _face_, Augustus _staggers back_. Alonzo _cocks hat over his eyes, and struts around stage_.]

_Alon._ ’Nother fellow sold! [_Laughs._

_Aug._ Bully joke!

_Alon._ Yah--yah--yah! You never tumbled.

_Aug._ I say, does that skeleton of Coney Island know anything about this?

_Alon._ No.

_Aug._ Then watch me slug him. [_Walks back and taps_ Alphonso _on the shoulder_.] I’d like to see you for a moment, Alphonso; excuse him, Stumpy.

_Stumpy._ Oh, yes, tell him not to hurry back.

[Augustus _and_ Alphonso _walk over to front of stage_.

_Aug._ You know Charlie Gilsey?

_Alph._ Well; my mother washes for him.

_Aug._ The other night Charlie went out on a corker. Got full of jig-water, felt uproarious, went around and stole a lot of front doors and two or three sidewalks. By-and-by the police caught him, locked him up in the Tombs. The disgrace drove Charlie cranky.

_Alph._ Cranky!

_Aug._ Yes, he went off of his caboose.

_Alph._ Oh, crazy.

_Aug._ Crazy’s the word. Now you know Charlie saw the warden, and the warden treated Charlie kindly. Yesterday he sent a waiter up to Charlie with an Erie Canal shad on a tray; Charlie up and kicked the tray out of the waiter’s hand, and then he began to abuse the waiter; of course the waiter wouldn’t stand that, and what do you suppose that he done?

_Alph._ What?

_Aug._ Biffed him--so! [_Hits_ Alphonso _a blow on the cheek_. _Biz of strutting around by_ Augustus.

_Aug._ He bit like a fish. I guess I’ve broke his jaw.

_Alph._ Deuced nice story.

_Aug._ Funny, ain’t it?

_Alph._ Awful; but say, old fellow.

_Aug._ What?

_Alph._ Has the East river ghost heard anything of this?

_Aug._ Not a volume.

_Alph._ Then view me paralyze him. (_Walks over to_ Stumpy.) Say, Stumpy, I’ve got a funny story to tell you.

_Stumpy._ What about?

_Alph._ Charlie Gilsey. You know Charlie?

_Stumpy._ Oh, yes, he’s one of Bricktop’s pals.

_Alph._ Well, this is a bully story. Make you laugh till you cry.

_Stumpy._ All right, I want to laugh. Spit her out.

_Alph._ You see Charlie went on a jamboree the other night; got full as a goat on corn rock and whisky. He stole half a dozen hand-carts and a grocery store, and the police collared him. Poor Charlie was locked up in the Tombs. You know he was always awful sensitive.

_Stumpy._ Oh, awful! You never had to call him a liar over six times before he would ask you what you meant.

_Alph._ Well, the disgrace of the thing muddled his brain box.

_Stumpy._ Sorter give him the jim-jams in his head.

_Alph._ Just so. But the warden was a friend of his, and tried to do all he could for him. Yesterday he sent a waiter up with a pickled ham on a tray for Charlie. Charlie ups and kicks it off. What do you suppose the waiter did?

_Stumpy._ Eat the ham.

_Alph._ No; he slugged Charlie, so. (_Hits_ Stumpy. _Same biz as before._)

_Alph._ Caught him again. I must have broke his ear.

_Stumpy._ Tell me some more; real nice story.

_Alph._ Grand joke, ain’t it?

_Stumpy._ Immense; but say, Hannah Rothschild, does that bald-headed child-killer over there know the racket?

_Alph._ No; I’ve given it to you first.

_Stumpy._ Oh, ho! Strawberries and cream. Gaze upon me part his hair. (_Walks over to_ Alonzo.) Say, old Morgue, I want to see you for five or six years.

_Alon._ What for?

_Stumpy._ You know Charlie Gilsey?

_Alon._ Charlie Gilsey, the alderman’s niece?

_Stumpy._ That’s the cake.

_Alon._ Oh, I know him well.

_Stumpy._ I’ve got a tip-top joke to give you about him.

_Alon._ You don’t say.

_Stumpy._ Sure. You see Charlie got off on a screecher last week. Got crammed full of bottle-stuffing. Oh, he got as drunk as a senator. He went on a racket and stole a hotel and an elevated railroad and a freight car, and some little things like that. He got arrested. Judge made it two years. It broke Charlie’s heart. He wasn’t used to getting more than six months at a time, and he got rats in his garret.

_Alon._ Did what?

_Stumpy._ Went off his nut--crazy.

_Alon._ Ah, I see.

_Stumpy._ You see, the warden was a friend of his, and he tried to do all that he could for poor Charlie. Bought a piano and a washing machine, and furnished up his room elegantly. Didn’t do any good. Charlie kept crazy. Yesterday the warden sent a waiter up with a tray containing a whole hog and some custard pie, and stewed whale, and some more little delicacies. Charlie up and kicked the waiter out of the tray’s hand.

_Alon._ Go ’way!

_Stumpy._ It’s so. But worse yet--Charlie went for the waiter.

_Alon._ Went for the waiter?

_Stumpy._ Terrible case. Hit him with the piano, jumped on his nose--oh, raised the devil. And what do you suppose the waiter did in return?

_Alon._ Struck him--so! [_Raps_ Stumpy _on the face and knocks him over. All of the other characters go for_ Stumpy _and knock him around the stage. Flats close on general melee._

McFLYNN’S APPOINTMENT.

Irish Sketch in One Scene.

BY WARD WOOD.

CHARACTERS.

BERNARD MCFLYNN. LANDLORD. ELLEN MCFLYNN. POLICEMAN.

_Interior of kitchen furnished poorly. Stove C. Baby in cradle, L. Wash tub, L. C. Table and chairs R. Ellen discovered at wash tub._

_Ellen._ Bad luck to the day I ever left my home and married Bernard McFlynn; sure he’s not done a stitch of work for nine years, and it’s only by me scrubbing my hands off at this wash tub that we’re able to live at all, at all. [_Baby cries; goes to cradle and rocks._] There--there, that’s a foine boy; don’t cry, darling--that’s the lad who will be an honor to me. [_Looks at baby._] Sure and he’s the image of John Morrissey, and who knows but that he’ll be an Alderman yet. [_Returns to tub._] Sure and didn’t Mrs. Moriarity’s son, Shamus, get a position on the horse cars, and he wasn’t named after John Morrissey either. Well, as the blind man said: “We’ll see what we’ll see.”

[_Enter_ Bernard McFlynn, _C. D._]

[_Takes off coat and hat, hands them to_ Ellen.

_Ber._ Mrs. Elenore McFlynn, would you be so precipitate as to remove this ulster and get me my dressing-gown and slippers; I have business to attend to.

_Ellen._ Sure and I think it’s time you had; it’s been nine years since you did attend to any.

_Ber._ Aisy now, Mrs. McFlynn, the business I have to attend to is of a political nature.

_Ellen._ Oh, ho!

_Ber._ (_Sits at table._) Get me my writing imperials, the business is of importance, and must be attended to immediately, if not sooner.

_Ellen._ (_Gets pen, ink and paper._) Sure, and is it _reading_ writing you are going to do?

_Ber._ (_Biz of looking over a large pile of documents--calls_ Ellen _to him_.) Ellen, come sit you down, and I’ll show you what position I hold in political affairs. (Ellen _sits_, Bernard _reads letter in a very pompous manner_.) “Hon. Bernard McFlynn--Sir, in appreciation of your services in the late political struggle, you have been unanimously appointed Engineer of the Morgue, a position of trust and responsibility. The duties attending the office are light, the hours of attendance being from 5 A. M. to 4 A. M. Report for duty at once. Respectfully, Claude Mulligan, secretary.” Now, Ellen, that’s an easy position; only an hour a day, from 5 to 4. (_Rises, takes hat and coat._) Well, this business must be attended to at once (_starting off._).

_Ellen._ (_Calling him._) How long will you be gone, Bernard? you know we have nothing to eat in the house, and little Johnny Morrissey has grown hump-back from the want of food.

_Ber._ When I return from the City Hall, Ellen, we will hold an investigation as to the sanitary condition of the infant. [_Exit C. L._

_Ellen._ (_Comes down front._) Sure and it’s a nice job Bernard has got, begorra. Engineer of the Morgue, and only has to work an hour a day. (_Rearranges the table. Knock at door._) Come in!

[_Enter_ Landlord.]

_Land._ Mrs. McFlynn, this is the last time I will call on you for the rent; I have been put off with promises once too often, and if you don’t pay up to-morrow you will have to leave.

_Ellen._ Leave, is it? Sure and it’s that same thing we intend to do. And it’s not heard you have of the position Bernard has got?

_Land._ Position! What position!

_Ellen._ Sure and he has been elected Engineer of the Morgue by a large majority, and we intend to leave your dirty hovel and move up on Lexicon avenue in the morning. Now, Mr. O’Grady, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

_Land._ Perhaps you will and perhaps you won’t. Engineer or no engineer, he can’t beat me.

_Ellen._ [_Jumping up excitedly._] Beat, is it? You want a beating? Well, Mr. O’Grady, let me inform you that I can give you all the beating you want myself.

[_Strikes at him. Biz ad lib. Throws loaf of bread at him._ O’Grady _dodges it and it hits_ Bernard, _who is just entering C. D._

_Ber._ [_Tipsy._] And is this the way you amuse yourself during my absence? Do you think I have nothing to do but buy bread for you to be firing round in that way? After a while you will be wanting plum pudding, or poie to be playing base ball with? What’s all this row about, anyhow?