The performer is supposed to be upon the stage, facing the audience.
All the pieces in this book have been published separately, and can be obtained by addressing the publishers.
ABNER RAYMOND, (a city merchant.) CAPT. DANDELION, (a city flower.) JOHN GALE, (a fisherman.) SEPTEMBER GALE, } (Protégés of John Gale.) MARCH GALE, } JEAN GRAPEAU, (an old French peddler.) KATE RAYMOND, (a city belle.) MRS. GALE, (John Gale’s wife.) KITTY GALE, (John Gale’s daughter.)
_JOHN GALE’S house down by the sea. Fireplace, R. Doors, R., L., and C. Table right of C., at which MRS. GALE is ironing. MARCH seated on a stool, L., arranging fishing-lines._
“Oh, my name was Captain Kyd As I sailed, as I sailed. Oh, my name was Captain Kyd As I sailed!”
_Mrs. G._ Do, March, stop that confounded racket!
_March._ Racket! well that’s a good one. Mother Gale, you’ve got no ear for music.
_Mrs. G._ More ear than you have voice. Do you call that singing?
_Mrs. G._ March Gale, if you don’t stop that catawauling, I’ll fling this flat-iron right straight at your head.
_March._ Now, don’t, Mother Gale. Don’t you do it. The iron would enter my soul. (_Sings._)
_Mrs. G._ Dear, dear! what does ail that boy? March Gale, you’ll distract our fine city boarders.
_March._ Not a bit of it. Don’t they come from the great city where there’s lots of grand uproars, organ-grinders, and fiddlers. I tell you, Mother Gale, they are pining for the delights of the city; and I’m a public benefactor, when, by the sound of my musical voice, I wake in their hearts tender recollections of “Home, sweet Home.” (_Sings._)
_Mrs. G._ I do wish you were sailing. Now, do stop, that’s a good boy. You make my head ache awfully.
_March._ Do I? why didn’t you say that before: I’m done. But, Mother Gale, what do you suppose sent these rich people to this desolate spot?
_Mrs. G._ It’s their whims, I s’pose: rich people are terrible whimsical. Mr. Raymond told your father he wanted a quiet place down by the sea.
_March._ Blest if he hasn’t got it! It’s almost as desolate here as poor old Robinson Crusoe’s Island.
_Mrs. G._ Well, well! p’raps he had a hankering for this spot, for he was born down here. Ah, me! how times do change. I remember the time when Abner Raymond was a poor fisherman’s boy. Law sakes, boy, when I was a gal, he used to come sparking me; and he and John Gale have had many a fight, all along of me. Well, he went off to the city, got edicated, and finally turned out a rich man.