ACT I

Auntie Temp (_before the curtain rises_): Gawge Washington Augustus. O, Gawge Washington Augustus, Gawge Washington Augustus, I say. (_Curtain rises._ Auntie Temp _is seen leaving stage at right._)

George (_enters at left_): I was jes' suah I yerd mammy callin' me in heah. Wondah whar she went? Mighty ha'd times dese is foh de niggahs, dat's suah. What wid ole marsa goin' off wid de Linkum sojas an' young marsa stampin' 'round an' sayin' he foh suah cehtain am agoin' wid de Fed'rates I mos' done wish I hain't nevah been bo'n. I is foh suah.

(_Singing behind scenes, a strain of any darkey melody that may be convenient, though the following, is especially appropriate._ George _pauses to listen._)

George (_continues after the singing dies out, looking toward right_): Dere comes dat worfless Clementina Diana, ef she is my sistah. 'Peahs lak any niggah dat can sing now-a-days ain't got no heart, jes' all gizzahd lak a chicken. (Clementina _enters at right, still singing._) Shet up dere, Clementina Diana, how kin you go a-singin' 'round right in de midst o' dis yere wah when de folkses is a-shootin' each udder down, an' a--an' a----

Clementina: O, pshaw! Gawge Washington Augustus, I didn't make de wah, 'sides I hain't seen none o' it, so I might's well be gay and happy while I kin. Mammy's been a-squawkin' foh ye dis yere long while.

George: Where's she gone ter?

Clementina: O! _I_ dunno. (_This in a slipshod way, shrugging her shoulders. Continues singing and exits at left._)

NEGRO SONG

This is a funny old song that the darkeys used to delight to sing in the days when they believed "Father Abraham" was coming to free them.

[Music]

1. Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa, Wid de muffstas on his face, Go 'long de road some time dis mornin', Like he gwine to leav de place? He seen a smoke 'way up de ribber, Whar de Linkum gun-boats lay; He took his hat, an' lef berry sudden, An' I spec he's run away!

2. He six foot one way, two foot tudder, An' he weigh tree hundred pound; His coat so big he couldn't pay de tailor, An' it won't go half way 'round. He drill so much dey call him Cap'an, An' he get so drefful tann'd, I spec he try an' fool dem Yankees For to tink he's contraband.

3. De oberseer he make us trouble, An' he dribe us 'round a spell; We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar, Wid de key trown in de well. De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken, But de massa'll hab his pay; He's ole enough, big enough, ought to known bet-ter Dan to went an' run away.

Chorus:

De massa run, ha! ha! De darkeys stay, ho! ho! It mus' be now de kingdom coming, An' de year ob Jubilo!

George: Ef that hain't de most disrisponsible niggah gal dat eber breaved de bref o' life! If I's lak she am I'd run off tomowow and jine dem Linkum sojas, but I jes' cain't do it. I jes' keep a-wonderin' what dey all will do at home widout me. Well, I reckon I'll go hunt up mammy. (_Exits at right._)

Sally (_enters at left carrying open letter_): Poor Cousin Bessie Helen, she has left her beautiful Alabama home with all its grand furniture and has run away with her brothers and sisters to grandpa's home here in Tennessee. What a foolish thing for her to do. (_Reads from letter_): "When they told me the Yankee soldiers were coming I couldn't think of anything but to get away safely with the children before the soldiers came in and butchered us all." How _foolish_ she was! I am sure the officers would have seen that she came to no harm. (_Goes to Lincoln's portrait and places her hand upon it._) It is plain that she has never looked upon _your_ noble face. If she had she would have felt, as I do, that at least some small measure of your beautiful spirit must be scattered abroad through your army to keep the men from harming helpless widows and children. But, poor Bessie! she has only heard dreadful stories about you, and so, with her mother in her grave, and her father fighting against the Yankees she could see no safety except in flight. I must write to her and tell her something of our beloved Lincoln and the army which he controls. (Albert _enters at left._) O, Albert, I am so glad you have come in just now. I have here a letter from Cousin Bessie; she is at grandfather's here in Tennessee.

Albert: In Tennessee?

Sally: Yes, read her letter; she was so afraid of the Yankee soldiers.

Albert: And well she might be, the hounds!

Sally: Hush! (_placing right-hand forefinger to lips_): Albert, do you forget that our father is one of them?

Albert (_walking up and down excitedly_): Indeed, I _don't_ forget! I think of it every hour, and it is _that_ which makes me so furious. How can he accept those low-down Northerners as his associates?

Sally: Brother, be still! Look at that face! (_Points to Lincoln's portrait._) _He_ is a Northerner, altho' he was born in Kentucky, and for his sake I love them all.

Albert: Then you must hate all your friends and relatives that are fighting against him.

Sally: No, no, dear brother, I do not. Don't you remember how the grand Lincoln closed his inaugural address? "We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone,----"

Albert (_interrupting_): There, stop, I will not listen to any more of his stuff.

Sally (_continuing rapidly_): "All over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." Are those not wonderful words?

Albert: Stuff and sentimentalism, that's what they are!

Sally: O, Albert, how can you talk so? Think of it! Today is his birthday; today you should delight to honor him.

Albert: His birthday! Who cares?

Sally: Everyone should give thanks for this day.

Albert (_laughing_): What nonsense you talk, Sally Caroline.

Sally: Well, you will see. The time will come when the Country will celebrate his birthday just as they now do Washington's.

Albert: O, come now, that's too much. It's bad enough to know that we are to have another four years of his tyranny, without hearing you sing his praises.

Sally: But, you'll _have_ to hear it; the war will soon be over, and he will be proclaimed as the Savior of his Country.

Albert: O, stop! The war is not anywhere near over: it is but begun. I'll not listen to this talk any longer. I resent it. I'll not hear any more of Abraham Lincoln. (_Goes up stage in great excitement._)

Sally (_excitedly_): Why, Albert! How can you talk so? Why you sound just like a rebel.

Albert (_turns and coming to center stands_): And that is just what I am, a rebel! A rebel against the tyranny of Abraham Lincoln.

(Sally _drops into rocking-chair at left-front; buries her face in her handkerchief and sobs violently._)

Albert (_comes down_): There, there, little sister! don't take on so; surely you have known my sentiments before this.

Sally (_rising_): O, but you never talked quite so wickedly before. How could you say things like that with his noble, benign face looking straight at you?

Albert (_scornfully_): Noble, benign face, indeed! I'll tear it into ribbons. I have put up with this thing long enough. (_He goes toward picture._ Sally _runs quickly, intercepts him, and stands in front of picture, placing her arms protectingly across it._)

Albert: Stand aside!

Sally: Never!

Albert (_loudly_): Stand aside, I say!

Sally: Never!

Mrs. Mortimer (_enters at right_): Children, what in the world are you doing? Albert, was that you speaking like that to your sister? I could hardly believe my ears. (Albert _goes to sofa and buries his face in his hands._) What in the world are you doing, Sally Caroline? Come and sit down.

Sally: No, mother, not until Albert promises me that he will not molest this picture.

Mrs. Mortimer: Molest that picture! Why should he? Your father paid ten good dollars of United States money for that picture and I reckon Albert doesn't want to waste money like that. Come here, Albert. (_She sits in rocking-chair at right-front._) Do come away from that picture, Sally Caroline; how ridiculous you look spread out there. Come away, I say!

Sally: No, mother; not until Albert promises me that he will not harm this picture.

Mrs. Mortimer: Of course he will not harm it. I can answer for that. Harm a picture which his father loves so well? I cannot imagine my son doing a deed like that. Albert, come to me.

Albert (_rising_): Mother, I see that I have no place here. I will get across the line some way this very day, and join the Confederate Army. (Sally _runs to him._)

Mrs. Mortimer (_rises_): What! My son fight against the old flag?

Sally: Albert, Albert; O, you cannot mean it!

Albert: Mother, you are a Southern woman; you ought to bid me godspeed.

Mrs. Mortimer: Yes, I am a Southern woman, but I am the descendant of men who helped to bind these States together, and no child of mine shall, with my consent, help to sever them. You shall _not_ go, Albert.

Albert: Mother, I must! I shall--go. (_Exit at right, running._ Sally _and_ Mrs. Mortimer _throw their arms about each other and sink upon the sofa._)

Curtain

Here may be introduced a short drill of the Blue and the Gray if desirable. It would certainly have a pleasing effect and would tend to add variety and spice to the entertainment.