954- UC-NRLF S CD CO CD A FAKCK. IN TWO A< ,His Last Legs, BY WILLIAM BAYLE BERNARD. With a Description of the Costumes Cast of the -Characters Entrance and Exits Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the Stage Business. BOSTON CAST OF CHARACTERS. Haymarket, 1839. Park^ 1847. O J Callaghan Mr. Power. Mr. Collins. Charles Mr. Walter Lacy. Mr. A. Andrews. Rivers Mr. Strickland. Mr. Fisher. Dr. Banks. Mr. Gough. Mr. Andrews. John Mr. Gallot. Mrs. Montague Mrs. W. Clifford. Mrs. Dyott. Julia Miss Travers. Miss Kate Horn. Mrs. Banks.. ..Mrs. Gallot. Mrs. Burrows. COSTUMES. O'CALLAGHAN. Black coat, buttoned up ; black pantaloons ; Hessian boots shabby hat ; linen mantel, and thick stick. CHARLES. Green frock ; light drab trousers ; white waiscoat, etc. RIVERS. Nankeen coat ; breeches and gaiters. DR. BANKS. A suit of black. JOHN. Livery. MRS. MONTAGUE. A lilac silk gown, cap, etc. JULIA. White muslin frock. MRS. BANKS. Brown silk dress. EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. I). Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door, RELATIVE POSITIONS. R. means Right; L. Left; ('. Centre; R. ' '. A'/.-;/// of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre. The Reader is supposed to be on ihe Stage, facing the Audience. HIS LAST LEGS. 85-5.2, ACT I. SCENE I. A street in a country town. An academy stands, R. E., with sign near door, " BircJis Classical Academy." A milliner s shop stands, L. E. Enter CHARLES RJVERSJ,^/'/^ MRS. MONTAGUE and Miss BANKS, R. (ro-iWs~^, 6, Z^,J) Charles. /\ Well, aunt, JBMJMS, your milliner's; and there, I see her peep- ing through her window, in hopes of a call. Mrs. Montague. Well, then, will you join me in my visit ? Cha. Why, really, as I am not the slightest judge of bonnets - Mrs. M. (aside.} You think that an excuse to get a tete-a-tete with Julia. Very well ; you know I 'm not ill-natured ; so, Julia dear, you can with Mr. Rivers whilst I step in. I won't be long. [Exit / // *.< , # Cha. And this, Julia, is our last walk together, because my father has set his heart upon my getting a degree. I must return to college this very night. Willy nilly, I must part with you, and go back to Greek and Latin - Julia. To make me happy as well as him Cha. You happy ? Jit/. Who, living under his roof, and treated with every kindness, cannot abuse his confidence by - Cha. And is there any need you should ? Have I not said I '11 tell him everything? Jul. Still you must rememb*er there 's another to consult. Cha. Your mother, whom you expect from town to-morrow. Jul. But only to remain a few days, as we then set out for France. Cha. For France ? Jul. When our stay from England will be quite uncertain. Cha. But what 's the cause of this ? Jul. It relates to my poor father. M35952-4 A 4 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT I. Cha. Indeed ! Jul. You are aware that, owing to an unfounded jealousy, he separated from my mother ten years since, and went abroad. Cha. I have heard so. Jul. We have lately been informed that his health is declining, and, of course, as we are anxious to be reconciled, my mother is resolved to go in search of him, when, if we should be so fortunate as to accomplish our desire Cha. You '11 sit down by his side, and marry, perhaps, some one of his choosing. Jul. Of course he 'd claim a voice in my disposal. Cha. Whilst mine would be forgotten I see it all. If you leave me now, we part forever. My mind 's resolved I '11 not leave home to-night. Jul. No ? Cha. No. I '11 not stir till I have seen your mother, and obtained from her a pledge that my happiness shall be considered. Jul. But how is that possible, when your father is so imperative ? Cha. Why, if force won't do, I '11 try a little stratagem. Jul. A stratagem ? Cha. Yes ; I have always one resource. You know ours is an old family, and I 'm an only son, consequently he 's always rather scared if anything 's the matter with me. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do I '11 have a fit of illness. Jul. A fit of illness ? Cha. Yes, right off. I used to be troubled with a swimming in the head I '11 have an attack as we go home ; then I shall be carried up to bed, a physician will be sent for Jul. And your artifice detected. Cha. Not so; our doctor's a deuced good old fellow I '11 let him into the secret ; he '11 recommend that I don't stir for a week, and in that time, Julia, I may see your mother, and Jul. I cannot hope it will succeed ; and if it should be discovered Cha. Well, then father can't complain. He wants me^be^pi^e^ master of arts, and he '11 see I 've some proficiency already. \ But he/efcomes my aunt ; now, not a word! MRS. MONTAGUE from the milliner s. o you been wnlhing ? '- TSfca, -Vos, wu 'vu huun talcing ft twn nr Urn, nnrl ** Mrs. JA And what has this pretty youth IK-IMI saving to you, Julia? If it's any nonsense don't believe him he 's an arrant llirt. Cha. \ 1><^ you pardon, aunt, I think flirting a giv.-it waste of time. SCENE i.] HIS LAST LEGS. 5 Mrs. M. Do you, Mr. Moralist? And yet I can recollect how you. waited it at Cheltenham. Cha. Nearly as much as you did there before me; do you think I never heard how you went on with a Mr. O'CalUghan ? Mrs. M. Oh, nonsense. t 'ha. It was no nonsense then, for you know you 'd have married him if it hadn 't been for grandfather. Jitl. (R.) Why, I 've never heard of this. Cha. (c.) Have n't you ? Oh, I '11 tell you all about it. Mrs. M. Really, Charles, I wish you 'd hold your tongue. Cha. You must know this Mr. O'Callaghan was the reigning star of Cheltenham kept his hounds and horses* and, amongst other proofs of his good taste, fell in love with my aunt. Her father, however, wishing her to have a man in Scotland, whipped her away, and soon after her gay Irish swain, having spent all his fortune Mrs. M. Went over to France and soon aUer^tv/ there. Now you Ve heard the whole story. (^ ^4rfi-?rrt*^i^i*-J^2/,i32tdr, R.) Eh ! why, that 's the London coach. Come, come, Charles, they '11 be waiting dinner; you know you start for Cambridge at eight. Cha. (asttfc.) Do I, aunt ? don't be so sure of that. Not a bad hint, though ; my disorder ought to be commencing. I '11 give her a few symptoms. J/r.s-. M. Now, don't delay ; you know how your father dislikes to be kept waiting. Eh ! why, what 's the matter ? Cha. (shaking his head.) Why, really, I don't know, but I've a very odd feeling in my head a sort of swimming. Mrs. M. Good heavens ! I hope not. Cha. Yes, everything is turning round. It really seems, now, as if the pnmp there was having a waltz with the workhouse. Mrs. M. Will you rn inmnmi n 1 ~n 1 sit down ? Cha. No, I 'd rather go home that is, if I am able. Mrs. M. Then walk slowly, and lean on me, Charles. Cha. Thank you, aunt, thank you. I dare say I shall be better by and by. I have no doubt that by eight o'clock I shall be quite restored (aside) don't you, Julia ? (Exeunt, L., CHARLES leaning on MRS. MONTAGUE, and looking tenderly at MlSS BANKS. Enter DR. BANKS, R. Dr. Banks. Yes, I can't be mistaken, though 'tis ten years since we parted it must be she my own sweet child ! Now, how to fulfill my object to separate her from her mother, and take her back with me to France ! I can 't use force my hope rests solely on persuasion. Luckily I find that she 's alone here on a visit ; my plan, then, is to see her privately. HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT I. and throw myself on her affection ; but how can this be done ? I want some friend to help me some one who will take a letter to her, and pro- cure an interview. (O'CALLAGHAN heard without. ) O'Callaghan. Oh, that 's the house is it ? thank ye, sir. Dr.B. Eh! who's this coming? .ry Irish fellow-passenger. : O'CALLAGHAN enters, R., in a shabby-genteel suit, dusty from traveling* O'Cal. So, then, my journey 's at an end, and hci'c. 's my destination "Birch's Classical Academy." Dr. B. Good day again, sir. O'Cal. Ah, sir, your servant. Do you proceed with the coach, or Dr. B. No, sir, I think of staying here a day or two. O'Cal. You do ? Well, that 's odd enough. Do you know, sir, that 's my case ; I like to go somewhere for the summer, and as London just now happens to be too hot to hold me Dr. B. You Ve friends here, I presume ? O'Cal. Yes, sir, a liberal one. (Looking at the academy?) A gentleman who opens his doors to all classes. Dr.B. Indeed one of the old school? O'Cal. Yes, sir, a very old school. {Aside.) Established a century. Dr. B. Do you know, sir, I think I Ve had the pleasure of seeing you before. Your name, I believe, is O'Cal. O'Callaghan, sir Felix O'Callaghan, of Kilmony Abbey (aside some years ago. Dr.B. O'Callaghan? Any connection with the army ? O'Cal. No, sir, though I 've had some knowledge of the Fleet. Dr. B. (aside.) I wonder if this person would assist me ; he 's evidentl poor, and I think good-tempered. O'Cal. (aside.) There's a cut about my friend here that puzzles m He 's too well dressed for a thief, and too melancholy for a bailiff. Dr. B. Perhaps, sir, if you 're not engaged, you '11 dine with me to-day ? O'Cal. Really, sir, I thank you, but the fact is, I am engaged. I came here on a trifling business, and Dr. //. The task you 've undertaken is O'Cal. Not to undertake tasks, but to set them. Dr. B. To set them ? O'Cal. Yes, sir. I dare say, now, you would n't guess my profession ? Dr. B. I confess, sir, I am at a loss. O'Cal. Of course, sir, you 're aware of the great interest just now on the subject of education ? Dr. />'. Yes, sir. O'Cal. Well, sir, you rrust know, then, that, partaking in the phila thropic spirit of the times, I have resolved to devote myself to the welfare : ire SCEM i.J HIS LAST Lr.r.s. 7 of youth. I have come here, sir, to taclu- reading^nd/vmting, and a correct accent in English, to the rising generation in^Mrtemple of Minerva. />f. />'. Why. 1 iK'vrr should have thought it ! O'Cal. I dare say not, sir. I 've no doubt I look as if I had more to do with the sinking generation than the rising. 7V. />. Why, really, sir, if I may be allowed to say it ( > 'c \j/. Of course, of course. The fact is, sir, you see before you one of the unluckiest devils going. Talk of being born under an evil star! I think mine was ayfavv/one. For the last dozen years, sir, I 've been the football of Fortune, and not a gutter could she find that I have n't been kicked into. /V B. Then I presume, sir, you were once well off? O'Cal. Well off, sir? I had one of the best estates in Ireland; I had as fine a set of tradesmen as a man could be born to ; I had a tailor and a stable-keeper and butcher and-baker that had n't-keeftvpttW -since the death of my grandfather ! It was utterly impossible to be in asier circumstances ; but to show you the doom, sir, that from my boyhood hung over me, one of them chose to die, and another to hang himself, till at last, sir, they left me in a state of destitution. Yes, sir, they had the cruelty to lave me to get my own living, after leading me to think that they 'd keep me all my days, and even bury me afterwards. Dr. B. That was unfortunate. O'Cal. It was, sir. After that I was reduced to the disgrace of living on my wits, and, by my honor, I found them a worse stock than South Ameri- can shares. Would you believe it, sir, that I Ve tried a hundred schemes for a living, and not one of 'em 's answered. I Ve failed, sir, as often as tne most flourishing tradesman. Call Fortune inconstant ! by my honor, sir, she 's been as constant to me as a thunder-storm in the tropics. I 'II give you a proof, sir. I wrote a book upon charity, which lodged me in prison ; I invented a steam-engine, which scalded all my shareholders ; and I opened a ball-room at a watering-place in the year it had the cholera ! At last, sir, finding that, like corn in a sack, with every shake I got lower, I resolved to give up the struggle, and bury myself in some calm country nook, when, happening to see an advertisement from a school in this vil- lage Dr. B. You 're now become its teacher. O'Cal. Yes, sir. This is the age of revolutions, and you now see mine a fellow \vho once set examples to dandies, destined henceforward to set copies to boys. Dr. B. (aside .) This is the very person for my purpose. (Aloud.} Well, sir, I sympathize in your reverses, and shall be happy, when you 're settled, if you '11 oblige me with a call. I shall be staying at O'C*-*. Sir, I shall be most happy. 8 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT I. Dr. B. There 's my card, if you should ever go to Paris. (Gives tt.) And perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing you this evening. (Aside.) The very man for me he wants money, and he has address. (Goes off, L., O'CALLAGHAN looks at the card.) O'Cal. " Dr. Banks, No. 15 Rue de la Victorie, Paris." A very civil old gentleman. Well, then, now for my new abode. I must put myself to rights, though. My wardrobe's in a very delicate state of health, and a brush//, would just now be a dangerous cathartic. I was obliged to have my coat*- turned for this journey, though that I didn't mind I 'm not the first man that 's turned his coat to get into office. My trousers I resuscitated with a bottle of "Scott's Reviver" that's what I call being reduced to a dyer necessity. Come, now, that will do; and I hope they haven't done dinner. My ride from London has given me an appetite ; I feel as if I could illustrate a lecture, on. .geology-^hqw the. beauty of ihe system of one layer upon L/jLj?$i^~& ^~jrrr *> * / V* -1 ) *fc^** another^ Mir.viJiJiifcfXKf mnnir..-vf r..Ti) 'And tte^is my future home. These hallowed cells, "where ever-musing Meditation dwells." Welcome, then, thrice welcome to ye, venerable pile ! To your calm shades, like the Roman of old, do I retreat from contention. Like another Cincinnatus I turn my back on the capital and say, " Fortune, thou Janus, I defy thee for the future ! " (^yunW iiyVirr /.frr rfciir-,' /ft 1 .jjwj en.) JOHN runs in, L. John. Here's a pretty business my young master taken ill, and no doctor to be found. I Ve been to our surgeon, and he 's been called away to Cambridge ; what 's to be done ? there 's only an apothecary besides in the village. Well, I must run to him I can't return without assistance. Dear, dear, was ever anything so cruel ! [Runs off, O'CALLAGHAN awn j-/ru;,u \n* miKL'jwi ; followed by THOMAS. O'Cal. I tell you, sir, you're wrong it can't be. Thomas. Indeed, it's true, sir our new uslicr arrived yesterday t O'Cal. But I tell you, sir, /'/;/ the man ! I answered the advertisement and accepted the terms. Thos. Yes, sir, but I think I heard my master say you didn't reply b the time he mentioned, so, as the school opened to-day and he could n' wait O'Ca/. Then you mean to tell me that after coming down here, fifty- miles from London, I find another man in my shoes? 77,'o. I 'm sure I 'm very sorry, sir. O'Cal. Sorry, sir? T/io. It's all owing to a mistake, sir. O'Or/. Mistake? it's. -in insult; and if your master was a gentleman How will he dare show his face to me at dinner- * SCENE i.J H:S LAST LEI 9 Tho. At dinner, sir? , <>'( '. To sleep i* IT, -si iO pv Jt*x> &*%u^ ^Y. O'Cai. Yes, sir, of cours he's got a bed for me. . Indeed lie hasn't, sir; WC have- n't room toerani a satchel in. .'/. '('hen where am 7 ho. Yoi: '!! get a good be;l at the inn, sir. '/. Thesinn, sir! Divil burn it, do you lake niefor Crcesjjs, ,sir? who's to pay the i:m. sir? I insist on stayin Tho. I said he was from home, sir. O'Cal. Not at home? Tho. No, sir. O'Cal. And where 's he gone to ? Tho. He 's gone to York, sir, and won't be back till Christmas. /;;, and shuts door in flat, R.) O'Cal. The unnatural old villain ! to turn me off in this way upon the dirtiest quibble, and even refuse me a mouthful of dinner! I'll go bail, now, that that fellow would skin a flint for a living, and make soup of the shavings. By my soul, if I could find him, I 'd set his boys a copy ! I 'd rule his back with my stick from the neck to the crupper, and write rogue in round text between every line of it. So, then, after all my hopes and troubles, I've failed again! I thought I'd come to the worst when I consented to turn jackass among this fellow's chickens, but no, Felix, my friend even this was too good for you ! What the devil ''s to be done ? Here am I in a strange place, at the close of day, with only one and nine- pence in my pocket one shilling and one ninepence the sole survivors of the last respected sovereign that reigned in my dom.nions ! Re-enter JOHN, hastily, f\^ John. What will be done ! the apothecary's ill in bed with rheumatism ; he can't be moved upon a litter. (Crosses, R.) O'Cal. Only this? why, it would n't pay for the loan of a toothpick ! John. If he doesn't get assistance he '11 be dead before the morning. O'Cal. What can be bought with one shilling and one ninepence ! John. Master, I know, would give a hundred pounds. O'Cal. (turning?) A hundred pounds! for what? John. A doctor, sir; younger. fivers has been taken ill. Our physi- cian is from home, and ^ Eh ! who's that going into his house? per- haps he's come back; I '11 run and see. (Runs ojf, R.) O'Cal. A hundred pounds ! is there so much money in the world ? and for a doctor ! a fellow whose business is to play chequers with the nation. The game with his fraternity b, who '11 move off the most. By Jsy IO HIS LAST LEGS. LCT my honor, I think, if there 's one delusion going that 's greater than another, it.'s. what they call doctoring, which I take to be the art of amusing a patient while Nature performs the cure. A hundred pounds for one, and no one to be found ! I wonder if / could be of any use here ! I know something of horse-doctoring, if that would do ; and I always carry about me a case of surgical instruments a jack-knife with seven blades. ( Takes it out.) Let me reflect. I 've tried a hundred schemes, for which I was well qualified, and every one has failed ! who knows, now, if I were to try 4>n*e of which' I know* nothing, but what I should succeed? Re-enter JOHN, R. John, (R.) No, it was not him ! he '11 not be back till midnight. O'Cal. (aside, L.) For a feel of his pulse, and a shake of my head, might get a fee that would take me back to London. John. My poor young master ! then there 's no hope for him ! O'Cal. Young man, I'm a stranger here; but if /can be of any se vice John. What, sir ! are you a doctor ? O'Cal. Why, I profess medicine. (Aside.) And that 's true enough, as I know nothing about it. John. And will you come with me, sir ? O'Cal. Of course I will. I '11 see your master; but remember I don't say I can do him any good. John. But you '11 try, sir ? O'Cal. To be sure I will I '11 try. John. Well, sir, no one can do more. O'Cal. Of course not ; and in my case (aside) no one can do less. Well, then, you may run on and announce me. Stop (He pauses ; JOHN runs off at back and turns.) What urges me to undertake this step? what, but the source of all great undertakings hunger! Arts, books and revolutions all have owed their origin, not to the heart or brain, but to the stomach ; ergo, I have the warrant of all the sages of antiquity ! John. Now, sir, don't stay, for heaven's sake ! My master may be h dead. O'Cal. (aside.) And if he isn't, I am. So go along, young man ; I ' sure of one thing: if I don't cure his complaint, I shall mine. (Follows JOHN off, L.) : SCENE II. A chamber at MR. RIVKRS'; MRS. MONTAGTK, R., an CHARLES reclining on a sofa, c., discovered ; a table with materials, L. Enter RIVERS, L. Riv. How is he now, Lyddy? SCENK I.] HIS LAST LEGS. 1 l Mrs. M. Why, not in so much pain, I think, but still MTV restless. /iVV'. (i..) It's really most surprising ; he was quite well this morning swallowed a breakfast for a ploughman ; half a dozen eggs, nearly a pound of ham, and I think a quart of coffee. Mrs. M. He first complained as we were about to leave the village, gradually gre\v worse as we crossed the fields, and when we reached tin- door (CHARLES groans and hicks ; they run to him.} a. Oh! Rn>. Poor boy, what suffering he 's in ; that scoundrel of a John to stay so, and that brute of a doctor. Mrs. M. Charles, are you better now? tell us where your pain is. C/ia. Why, aunt, just at present there's a gnawing sensation here another there and now, the spasm comes again oh ! AY?'. My poor dear boy ! . BETTY runs in, L. Betty. John has come back, sir, but he has brought a stranger with him, Riv. A stranger? Jiff. Yes, sir, a gentleman from London. A'/?-. Why, who can it be? Lyddy, try to compose Charles a little, whilst I go and see him. [Exit, L. Jfrs. M. Your head aches still, Charles ? here 's some more eau-de- cologne. Eh, no, I 've emptied the bottle. Betty, run up to my room, and in the drawer nearest to the window stay, I'll go for it myself; do you stay and watch him. {Exit, R. Bet. I stay and watch him ? I had much rather not. I never had cour- age to turn nurse, or I might have had a charming situation in a small-pox hospital. Suppose, now, he should go out of his mind ? he looks very strange. Why, he 's getting up he 's going to spring at me Here \ murder! help! (She runs off, L. ; he jumps up, Liu^Jiir.g^) Cha. Ha, ha! Victory, victory! Was ever father and cousin, and faithful maid servant, so finely bamboozled. Well, my first point's gained. I shan't leave home to-night ; the question is, shall I remain over to-morrow ? that depends upon the doctor, and I think there 's no fear of his consent, when I have once explained my secret. Eh ! there 's some one coming, I must back to my sofa ; I must have a relapse. ( Throws himself on the sofa and begins to kick ; RIVERS returns with O'CALLAGHAN, L.) Riv. Here 's your patient, sir ; and as I stated to you, the attack has been most sudden he was quite well this morning, and (O'CALLAGHAN goes up to CHARLES, and feels his pulse?) Rather an odd-looking man, and a stranger. I should be cautious but then, what have looks to do with talents ? If we judged nuts by their shells, who, pray, would crack 12 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT them? (O'CALLAGHAN comes down, R., and looks gravely at RIVERS. Well, sir, what 's your opinion ? O'Cal. May I ask, sir, if that young gentleman is your only son? Riv. He is, sir. O'Cal. I regret to hear it. May I ask if he has a mother, sir? Riv. No, sir, she has been dead some years. O'Cal. Well I 'm glad to hear that. Riv. Why glad, sir? O'Cal. Why, sir, painful as the task may be, I feel I should be wanti in my duty if I did not acquaint you that Riv. Good heavens ! do you mean to say there 's any danger ? O'Cal. There 's more than danger, sir. Riv. Is it possible ? O'Cal. That amiable young man, sir, cannot exist six hours. Cha. (lifting hit head ; aside.) What 's that ? Riv. But what 's his complaint, sir ? O'Cal. Why, sir, I confess that puzzles me. I can't say I ever saw before, but I can explain its origin. It 's what we call & febrifuge that i you see, the pineal gland having been morbidly excited by the peritoneu ducts, a contractility has ensued of the cellular tissue of the cavernous membrane;, you understand me? Riv. Perfectly. O'Cal. (aside ^) Then you are a wiser man than I am. This, you see, sir, must be fatal unless instantly checked ; however, my treatment 's ve decided,' so I shall proceed to bleed him, sir, and you will oblige me ordering up a tub. Cha. (aside.) A ////;/ O'Cal. When I have relieved him of a gallon or two, I shall shave his head, apply a blister to his back and stomach, and then with a draught every hour, and a dozen leeches to his eyelids, I think he may do. (. 'ha. (.isid<:.) Do ! yes I shall do, for a coffin. Riv. This draught, sir, of course, must be obtained directly. There ' paper on the table, will you write for it? . O'Cal. 1 will, sir. (Sits at the table and writes, fc\ So far, so wel now for the prescription. A'/,-', (iix/ti't-.) His treatment is decided, certainly. Why, he talks taking blood from a man like beer from a vat. O'Cal. (rising isith paper.} There, I think that it is in the usual style. is //. i " ( 'a/ Sen SiisJ/yitrurg /'// three snakes' tails and a lot of triangles." To be sure, the apothecary won't be able to read it, but so much the better, then; for once in his life, he can't do any mischief. There, sir, you'll get that made up as soon as possible. /.'/r-. In half an hour, sir, my servant shall go with it on horsebac Here, Robin ! John ! I SCENE ii.] HIS i AST LEGS. 13 Cha. Now I think it's time to put a stop to this murdrr, sir. aCal. What's this? Cha. You '11 allow me to acquaint you that O'Cal. Not indisposed ? Cha. (R.) Yes, sir, 1 am indisposed to undergo your treatment. I '11 not trouble you to take away a gallon of my blood, nor do I think it would im- prove my personal appearance to have twenty leeches hanging to my eye- lids. O'Cal. Then I have been imposed upon, C/ni. Why, of course, I don't deny I Ve deceived you, but if you'll al- low me to state the cause ()'t 'aL (aside.) Phew ! here 's a deliverance. (Crosses to R.) CAa.J^I'm sure you '11 see the necessity, and O'Cal. Then, in few words, sir, for some purpose of your own you have presumed to trifle with your friends, and offer this insult to a member of the faculty. Cha. Insult, sir I meant no insult, sir. O'Cal. But you have done it, sir; you have chosen to bring into con- tempt one of the most respectable professions. I have but one reply : to call in your father, expose your conduct, and - (^&t*w{^ <^ , Cha. No, no ; for heaven's sake, sir; I 'm sure when you know the rea- son of my artifice, you will pity and forgive it. It was a last resource to preserve my happiness to remain near a lovely and devoted girl, who is about to leave the country. ( Y CaL But \vhat is this to me, sir? you have brought me here, a perfect stranger, wasted my time, trifled with my feelings Cha. And do you think without a view to recompense? If twenty guineas will be any compensation O'Cal. Twenty guineas ! Cha. I o f fer it with pleasure. O'Cal. Well, sir, since you throw yourself upon my humanity Cha. Exactly so. O'Cal. Since you confide in my feelings, and have not scrupled to dis- close to me your secret Cha. Yes, sir. O 'Cat. I feel I should respond to your appeal by imparting to you a se- cret in reply. Cha. Indeed ! O'Cal. You've assured me, on your honor, that you're no sick man. Cha. No, sir. O'Cal. Allow me, then, in the strictest confidence, to acquaint you in return that I am no doctor! Cha. What 's that ? 14 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT O'Cal. But, on the contrary, a patient like yourself, who has undergo a deal of bad treatment. Cha. Then what brought you here, sir ? O'Ca/. Ah ! there my object was medical enough I came for a fee. C/ia. And you have had the impudence to torture my feelings and i pose upon my respected parent. O'Ca/. Why, on the point of impudence, I really don't think we should be vain on either side. Cha. I 'm thunderstruck ! O'Ca/. Well, sir, if your keen sense of morality is so greatly outraged, of course I '11 leave the house, and Cha. No, no ; I did n't say that ; but ha, ha ! upon my word, it ' odd. O'Cal. Is n't it? Cha. You 're from Ireland, I perceive. O'Cal. Yes, sir. Cha. Any business ? O'Cal. Why, I have taught the sciences. Cha. In what branch ? O'Cal. Comparative anatomy. I Ve illustrated, for the last si how a man, like a chameleon, may live upon air. Cha. Well, I must say you look as if you had been running down hill. O'Cal. Yes, sir; and as if I had been having my run on the side of the Andes. I 've been running down hill for the last ten years, and di take me if I can get to the bottom. Cha. Well, if it 's worth your while to stop here, I don 't see why our agreement should be vitiated. O'Cal. You don't? Cha. If the twenty guineas will pay you for your delay, we may as retain our characters. I can continue my illness, and O'Cal. I can cure you, now I know your disease. Cha. Then it 's a bargain ? O'Cal. There 's my hand. Cha. Agreed ; but, I say, you must take care of one thing our doct he'll be sure to call, and if he should talk to you O'Cal. He'll illustrate the Latin maxim, "Ex nihilo, nilyf/." Cha. Well, then, that point's settled. I shall maintain my acquaint- ance with my dearest Julia O'Cal. And I renew my acquaintance with a dinner table. C/in. I la, ha! If you 'd like to extend your practice, I can help you a patient. Here 's my aunt, Mrs. Montague, is rather poorly. O'Cal. Who ? Cha. Mrs. Montague. SCENE 11 ] HIS LAST i : 15 < >\ 'a/. " That well-known name awakens all my woes!" May I ask if the lady comes from Yorkshire? 0. She does. O'Cal. And her maiden name was ( 7t'<.''<.''( 'a!. Because, sir, " Nature abhors a vacuum." AY:'. (iisi'(/t\) He must not know his child is here, at least till I ascertain his sentiments then who knows but I may be the means of bringing them together? Enter MRS. MONTAGUE, R. Mrs. M. Is it possible ? Charles fast asleep ! AY?'. Yes Licldy, without pain or fever ; we owe his ease, perhaps his life, to the singular skill of this gentleman. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my sister, Mrs. Montague. (Leading MRS. MONTAGU V forward ; Mrs. M. Can it be ? Riv. Why, what 's the matter? J/V.s-. M. Support me, it 's his spirit. (Sinks info a chair, R., screaming?) O'Cal. Don't be alarmed, sir a touch of the falling sickness, that's all limbs weak, mind disordered, eyesight wandering. Mrs. M. Mr. O'Callaghan ! O'Cal. Exactly so. There's a symptom, sir! takes me for some friend of hers. May I trouble you for a glass of water, whilst I operate upon the lady? Riv. I '11 fetch it directly how very odd ; is there an epidemic raging ? [Exit L. .Ifrs. M. Mr. O'Callaghan, what does this mean? O'Cal. Mean, my angel ! what should it mean, but Mrs. M. What brought you here, sir ? O'Cal. You, madame. Mrs. M. I ? O'Cal. Of course, to speak to you, to look at you, to gaze upon that face once more, which for ten long years has been the one bright star amidst my darkness, I have dared all things. Mrs. M. Is it possible ? O'Cal. It is truth, by all the pangs that I now feel here no, here. Re-enter RIVERS, with water, L. ; BETTY *auh.v-/wm tkv ut'i Riv. Here 's the water, doctor. I 8 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT II. O'Cal. That 's not wanted. Bet. Dinner 's served, sir. O'Cal. That is. Riv. Is she restored ? O'Cal. Perfectly, sir. Riv. And how did you effect it ? O'Cal. Oh, the old way, you know. {Makes passes.} Riv. What a very wonderful man ! Cha. (aside} Why, what the deuce ! has he been magnetizing my aunt? Riv. Well, doctor, will you give Mrs. M. your arm ? Now, Betty, mind no one disturbs Charles he 's in a sweet sleep ; and really, this per- son 's talent is almost supernatural. (Exit L. ; O'CALLAGHAN giving MRS. MONTAGUE his arm, is following / CHARLES rises from the sofa.} Cha. I say, old fellow, it 's all right. O'Cal. Right ! by my soul, we 're as right as a two-year old fox on the floor of a henroost; come along, my angel. {Leads her out ; drop de- scends} ACT II. I. Parlors of the Villa, same as Act. /, elegantly fur nisi opening at back upon a lawn ; doors L. and R. Enter RIVERS, with JULIA, at door L. Riv. Now, Julia, we 're alone, and I can make my disclosure. You ob- served that gentleman at table ? //. Yes, sir. Riv. Did you feel any mysterious inclination to throw yourself u] his bosom ? Jul. Not I, indeed, sir. Riv. Of course you recollect your father? JuL I regret to say but imperfectly; you must rememember he been away ten years, and Riv. But you are sure of one thing, that he resides in Paris ? Jul. Quite sure, sir. Riv. And you know even the street ? ////. The Rue Victoire, No. 15. l\iv. Well, then, you may judge my feelings, when, on asking tl stranger for his card, he put this into my hand. (Gives her the card} Jul. Is it possible ! Oh, let me fly to him ! SCENF I.] HIS LAST LEGS. 19 Not so that might ruin all ; you know his character is proud and sensitive, ami, laboring under the delusion that he does, he must be ap- proached with caution. I know if 1 were abrupt with him, he'd instantly take fire; I must get him alone, lull his suspicions, rouse his sympathies. Eh, someone's coming perhaps it's he; let us retire a moment, and pre- pare for the attempt. {Exit with } ULI A ifc/^iu if 1 , MI, c. CHARLKS \ \il. Oh, don't speak of fortune, you know how I dfcsmseit-\ Mrs. Jf. ('t'ii/. Pooh, pooh ! it 's not a brother that you want ; it 's a husband. Mrs. M. A husband ! O'Cal. Of course; don't you say you want to change your estate? Mrs. J/. Well, well ; but you know what I mean. O'Cal. To be sure I do that you liked marriage so well, you would n't object to repeat the mixture. Well, then, here am I, properly done up, and ready to be taken. Mrs. M. Now, you impudent man, you know very well that O'Cal. It 's a fair exchange to be sure it is. You want company, and you 're troubled with fortune. I want fortune, and am troubled with com- pany. Mrs. M. Well, well, we '11 speak of this at some other time. O'Cal. Some other time ; would you tell a dying man that you '11 cure him some other time ? Let me know my fate at once. Mrs. M. No, no ; when we go to town you can write to me. O'Cal. Write ! Why write when I can talk to you when I can speak a dozen letters on the spot, and you can look back a whole post-office upon me ? (Seizes her hand and kneels?) Mrs. M. But don't kneel, for heaven's sake ! O'Cal. I '11 be as pious as a broken-kneed post-horse till I have my answer. Mrs. M. But, but there 's some one coming. O'Cal. I ask an answer ! Mrs. M. Consider, for heaven's sake ! O'Cal. An answer. (Drawing her towards him.) Enter RIVERS from the lawn. Ri-v. Dr. Banks ! (MRS. MONTAGUE screams and falls on O'CALLA- GHAN's shoulder ; RIVERS advances; O'CALLAGHAN makes passes?) O'Cal. Another touch, sir. Riv. What of the falling sickness ? O'Cal. Exactly, sir. May I trouble you for a chair? (RIVERS places 22 HIS LAST LKGS. [ACT I : one, MRS. MONTAGUE sinks into it.} Riv. Why, bless my soul, what a family I Ve got ! Are you better, Lyddy? Mrs. M. Yes, brother, a little better. And how provoking this intru- sion ! O'Cal. You see, sir, she's still disordered; however, if she'll only a tend to my advice, I '11 undertake she shall have no relapse. Riv. Then pray do, Lyddy, oblige me by consenting. O'Cal. Do, my dearest madame you '11 oblige both of us. Mrs. M. I'm stronger now; if you'll allow me, I'll retire. (Ti O'CALLAGHAN.) Oh, you bold man, what am I to say to you? O'Cal. What, my darling? why, that you're mine in a week. [Exit MRS. MONTAGUE through door, Riv. Well, doctor, you seem to understand the widow's case ? O'Cal. Perfectly, sir; and I beg to say I sha'n't leave her till you've witnessed a change. Riv. (aside.) \Vhy, his humanity is equal to his skill ! O'Cal. (aside) A widow with a fortune ! I'm a made man again ! Riv. (aside.) Now, then, we 're alone, and I can make my disclosure. (Aloud.) Well, doctor, Charles is so much recovered, he 's actually strong enough to take a turn in in the garden. O'Cal. I 'm glad to hear it, sir. Riv. And if you 're glad, sir, what must I be what can I say to hi who has bestowed on me this happiness ? O'Cal. Well, well, my dear sir, no more thanks; I really don't deserve them. Riv. You deserve much more than thanks, sir, or the poor repayment of a fee. You must admit that having done so much for my comfort, I should feel a little for yours. O'Cal. Really, sir, I thank you, but (Aside.) What's coming now, I wonder any more good luck ? Riv. As a friend, then, and anxious to display my gratitude, allow to say that I am acquainted with your unhappy history. O'Cal. The divil you are ! Riv. I know the subject is painful I feel its peculiar delicacy ; but wit a view to your happiness, allow me to refer to your wife and child. O'Cal. My what, sir? Riv. Your wife and child, sir. O'Cal. Why, you're dreaming, sir! Riv. That unhappy pair, who for ten long years O'Cal. But this is moonshine I am simply A'/?', (producing his card.) "Dr. Banks, of 15 Rue Victoire, Paris. O'Cal. Yes, sir. >g I SCENE i.] HIS LAST I.KGS. Kn: And consequently husband .f my friend of ( iuilford Street; and father of her lovely and accomplished daughter. i l'hew! . 1 'in not surprised at your language, because I know your sad im- pression that your devoted \\iU- is unworthy of \our regard. ,-/. (as:\tt-.\ Here 's a bog 1 Ve walked into! Hut am I to suffer this delusion to continue, when I know her in- nocence when I know how much she loves you, and would rejoice at your return! O'Cal. (aside.} What the devil am I to do? AY.-'. You 're silent you 're embarrassed. Think, sir, if your wife has erred, has she not atoned? has she not been punished by ten long years of suffering estrangement? O'Cal. (iisitJt'.) Well, I 'm in for it, and on I must go. AY?'. Allow me, then, to hope that you '11 respond to her desires ; that you '11 magnanimously consent to forget the past, and (O'CALLAGHAN pulls out a handkerchief atid turns a-isay, as though struggling with his feelings.) Tears ! oh, that 's a happy sign. Let them flow, sir ; nature has no ice that defies a thaw. Let them flow on, sir, to assure me that (O'CALLAGHAN, after another struggle, turns) O'Cal. Mr. Rivers. Riv. Yes, sir? O'Cal. You cannot wonder at my agitation ? Riv. Wonder, sir? O'Cal. You cannot be surprised that your question has confused me ? Riv. Of course not ; you didn't expect it would be put to you. O'Cal. I own, sir, I did not. AY?'. In fact, how should you? you didn't know I was aware you had a family. O'Cal. How the divil should I, sir, (aside) when I did n't know it myself? AY?'. I feel it all, sir, but since O'Cal. Of course, sir, since it 's been discovered and since you say my wife is contrite for her conduct conduct, sir, of which it is impossible for me to state to you the nature Riv. You will pardon and receive her? O'Cal. (after a sigh.) It 's my duty as a Christian ! Riv. Then, sir, I 'm overjoyed to tell you that she 's on her road from London, and that your daughter is in the next room. O'Cal. What, sir? Riv. Yes, sir waiting for your permission to approach you. Never had I greater happiness than in bringing her O'Cal. But, Mr. Rivers Riv. No, no ; I cannot suffer you to deny me. You 've promised to re- ceive her, and you shall. [Exit through door, L. 24 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT II. O'Cal. The divil fly off with him! In the next room? By my soul, then, I 'm settled within the next minute ! I am ruined entirely, and all with good luck. An hour ago I hadn't a home for my head, or a friend to my back, and now I Ve got a family ready made to my hands. What 's to be done? The girl, of course, must know her father; she will expose me on the spot, and by my honor, she 's coming. Oh, it 's all up with me ! here 's my old luck ! I 'm a lost man ! I 'm ruined ! I 'm done for ! I'm RIVERS leads in JULIA from door, L. Jul. Is it possible? my dear, dear father! {Rushes into his arms.} O'Cal. (aside.} It's all right, by Jupiter! Riv. (aside.} This scene repays me for all my efforts. O'Cal. My beloved child, do we meet again ? Jul. The happiness is mutual, be assured. O'Cal. Stop, let me gaze upon you. Oh, how like your mother ! Riv. (aside.} A joy like this is too sacred to be intruded on. We want now but the mother to arrive, and the good will be complete. \_Exit through door, L. O'Cal. My angel of a girl! But how much you're grown! really! you 're so altered, I can scarcely recollect you. Jul. Is it possible ? O'Cal. If I hadn't been told you were my child, I never should have known it. Jul. And you, papa, seem very unlike what I expected ; you look so much younger and O'Cal. I do? But then appearances, you know, are sometimes treach- erous. You must n't suppose I am exactly what I look. Jul. Why, very true. O'Cal. (aside.} By my honor, she's a paragon; who would n't have a daughter ? Jul. (aside} And to suppose he was so cold and distant. Oh, how much they have brcn mistaken ! O'Cal. And it's ten years since we parted. Why it seems but a day since I carried you in these arms, a smiling, lisping baby. Of course you don't remember the/; -o-cart \ bought you? Jul. No, papa, I don't. O'Cal. Nor the /r>nn' ring when you were cutting your.teeth? Jul. Nor that either, strange to say. O'Cal. (ns/'t/i-.) Twoald be stranger if you did. (.-//<>//'c \il. And who the divil 's he ? Jul. Do you forget you have a son ? O'Cal. Why, what an unnatural villian 1 am; I really talk to you, my cherub, as if I were a stranger. Jul. You know he 's still with Mr. Jones? O'Ca/. Oh, he 's still with Mr. Jones, is he ? Jul. And you Ve heard that Mr. Jones is removed to Clapham? O'Ca/. Clapham I thought 'twas Tooting. And how's all his family? Jul. His family ? I never knew that he was married. ( ?Cal. Was n't he ? (Aside.) I 'm remembering too much here. Jul. My mother will tell you all about his bankruptcy; but we '11 not think of that; to see you once more repays us for all losses. O'Ca/. It does, my child, it does. (Aside.) By iny soul, this affection 's mighty pleasant. I wonder whether I shall be as well off with her mother? (A/oiitf.) Julia, you cherub, come to my arms ! (Embraces her again.) CHARLES comes from R. Cha. Infamous girl ! Jul. Mr. Rivers! Cha. And you, sir villain that you are. O'Ca/. Villain, sir? Jul. For heaven's sake, Charles, do you know who you speak to ? Cha. I speak to Miss Banks, who I believed to be one of the purest of her sex, and who I see reclining O'Ca/. On the bosom of \xxfathcr. Cha. Her father? O'Ca/. Yes, sir. Cha. Impossible ! O'Ca/. Oh, of course, sir, though we were strangers till to-day. You know my history better than myself. Cha. Julia, is this the truth ? Jul. It is indeed, Charles you see my long-estranged, but much-loved parent. 26 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT II. Cha. Why, I 'm amazed. O'Cal. At what, sir? that the young lady knows \\t\ father ? Cha. I could not have supposed. O'Cal. But you hear, sir and now, sir, may I ask how I have deserved the name of villain ? Cha. Why, sir, I confess that I \vas hasty. O'Cal. Hasty, sir ! you break in upon the sacred privacy of a parent and his child. You interrupt the first sweet thrill that I have known for ten long years. Cha. But you '11 make some allowance for my ignorance? O'Cal. Your ignorance! I thought, sir, you belonged to Cambridge? Jul. Dearest father, don't be angry with him. O'Cal. Well, my child, for your sake I will not. Mr. Rivers, though you 've chosen to apply to me a most opprobrious term, I '11 show you that it is not in my nature to revenge. I believe, sir, that you love my daughter. Cha. Dearer than my life. O'Cal. And it would make you happy if you could gain my approba- tion ? Cha. Beyond expression, sir. O'Cal. Be happy, then. There, sir. (He hands her over to him.) Cha. Is it possible ! O'Cal. Take her, and may heaven bless you both. Cha. I want words, sir, to express O'Cal. (aside.) Now, that 's what I call magnanimity f Cha. Ah, Julia, what happiness ! Jul. And now, Charles, I suppose you '11 not object if I embrace my father? O'Cal. My darling child. (She flies to him, L. c. ; he clasps her again.) MRS. MONTAGUE comes from L. Mrs. M. It is true, then? O'Cal. Mrs. M. oh, murder! (MRS. MONTAGUE advances L.) Irs. M. The monster, to deceive me so ! Jul. Dear Lydia, congratulate me ; allow me to make you known to one who Mrs. M. You may spare yourself the trouble, Julia; I have met that gentleman before. Jul. Indeed ! Mrs. M. But 't is some years since, and O'Cal. (aside.) Now I 'm deeper in the mud than ever. Jul. And won't you welcome him? do, I implore you do, for my mother's sake. Mrs. M. Your mother's sake, indeed ! SCI.M: i.] HIS i 1ST i i 27 ////. (rfj/V/i-.) Charles, what ran In- tin: cause ,,f this ?-- something | ha\ e happened. '. [ think we bad better leave them, love, Hang this iVllow; I be- gin to have a Mran-e misgiving. 1 must ob < (/.,-t// rings violently outside?) JULIA runs in, followed by RIVERS, L. Jul. Dearest father, my mother has arrived. O'Ca/. Oh, be aisy. . M'rs. M. (aside to O'CALLAGHAN.) Now, sir, what have you to say? Riv. (looking off, L.) It is your wife, doctor, I can see her. Mrs. M. Profligate man, farewell forever ! (Exit through door, fe c. ; O'CALLAGHAN paces the room ; they follow //////.) O'Ca/. Ten thousand divils ! there goes a home and a thousand a-year. Riv. I can interpret this emotion. Your happiness at your wife's arrival is too great ; it overpowers you. O'Ca/. Yes, sir; 'tis enough to be the death of me. Riv. Well, then, instead of your immediate meeting, what if I break the news to her, and give you time on both sides to prepare ? O'Ca!. Far better, sir, far better, for if, as you see, sir, I can't express what I feel to you Riv. Exactly so. O'Ca/. What the divil could I say to her? Riv. Well, then, doctor, if you '11 wait a little, I and Julia will come to you when all 's prepared. Now, courage, my dear sir, courage ; all your miseries will soon be over. (Goes off with JULIA, at back, c.) O'Ca/. Yes, over my head, and down they'll be coming. If my angel has left the house without an explanation, divil a glimpse will I ever get of 28 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACTII. her again. Here 's my old luck, as I 'm a sinner. At the moment that I thought the storm was past, that the road was all smooth, and my team in good order, out comes my linchpin, and over I go again. CHARLES comes from $ c. C/ia. So, sir, my aunt tells me that your name was formerly Mr. O'Callaghan ? O'Cal. Well, sir, and if it were ? Cha. Then by what authority did you give my father the card of Dr. Banks ? O'Cal. By the highest authority 'twas the only one I 'd got. Cha. But if you took his name, sir, you had no right to embrace his daughter as you did ! O'Cal. No right, when I had not seen her for ten years; wasn't I forced to be affectionate, to keep up the illusion ? Cha. But you were not forced to kiss her, sir? O'Cal. And do you grumble at that? I kissed the girl solely to serve you and this is your gratitude ! Cha. Gratitude, indeed! however, it's all over now. By taking this doctor's name, you Ye ruined all. Here 's his wife arrived ; she must know you, if Julia did n't, so the result will be that we shall both be exposed and turned out of the house. JOHN runs in from garden, C. John. I beg pardon, sir, but here's an old gentleman been knocked down by the London coach, so I told them to bring him to you. (Goes out again ^) OCal. What's that? Cha. Ha, ha! now, I say, old fellow, you've got a job in earnest. {Exit through door, L. O'Cal. Well, now, I suppose things have come to a climax what with a man who wants a surgeon, and a woman who wants a husband, I wonder which party I 'm most likely to satisfy? What's to be done? I see but one way to run to the inn, write a letter to Lydia, and explain everything. I will ; I won't delay a moment I '11 run every step, and (Going out at back.} JOHN and Rouix enter, supporting DR. BANKS, . C. Dr. Banks, by all that 's marvelous ! Dr. />'. Is it possible! my fellow passenger? (They place him in a chair.} What 's the matter, sir? Is your neck broke? />'. No, thank hcavrn, nothing broken. SCENE i.] ins L.\^ 29 O'Ca/. You're quite sure of that, you 'IT quite positive you don't want a surgeon ? Dr. B. Quite so. O'Ca/. My dear sir, how />/t-. Then who 's in that room with Mrs. Banks ? O'Cal. Who should it be, sir, but he who has a right to be, her husband ? Riv. Which you are not, sir? O'Cal. No, sir, but merely his friend, who entertained the wish that you did to see his misery put at an end to. Riv. But, but how did he get in there? O'Cal. -My dear sir, what can it matter how he got there, if he has the right to stay there ? (RlVERSgoes to the door and opens it.) Riv. Yes, Julia, there is indeed your father, by your mother's side. (JULIA enters room, R., followed by RIVERS and CHARLES.) O'Cal. And now, my darling, what do you say ? Mrs. M. What can I say ? O'Cal. Am I the monster you thought me just now? Mrs. J/. You are, but certainly a classic one, for you 're a sphink ; there 's no understanding you. O'Cal. And yet if 'twas necessity caused my deceptions, will you refuse me the means of my deceiving no longer ? Mrs. M. Not if I was sure of your sincerity but ought I to trust you ? O'Cal. You ought, my darling, for nobody else will. Mrs. M. Can you blame me if I doubt ? O'Cal. Of course not ; but you should imitate the law courts, and give your doubt in favor of the criminal. (She gives him her hand.) t^<5U-X-^f /TV~ ^^X^^TA^C-VV DR. BANKS, JAJLIA/MKS. BANKS, RIVKRS and Oi nfrfrom R. Dr. B. Mr. O'Callaghan, in my present happy feelings I can't be angry at your stratagem, but pray explain to me by what means you O'Cal. My dear sir, if I have been so fortunate as to restore your peace 32 HIS LAST LEGS. [ACT II. of mind, never mind the means. To explain would only confuse me, and, and Dr. B. Tell me, then, what return I can offer ? O'Cal. Why, sir, if you 're anxious to be even with me, here 's my friend, Mr. Charles Rivers, is attached to this young lady, and if, now you 've got back a wife, you 've no objection to part with a daughter Dr. B. I can have none, sir, if Mr. Rivers has not. Riv. I ? certainly not. I wish, however, to ask you one question. (DR. and MRS. BANKS turn away, 'with CHARLES and JULIA.) In get- ting your friend here, pray, how did you contrive to blind his suspicions ? O'Cal. How, sir? Why you know my magnetic influence. {Makes passes with his hands?) Riv. Oh, that way that's enough. {Turns away to the party ; CHARLES advances?) Cha. Well, old fellow, I find you Ve a trump, after all ; but, I say, I should like to know how you Ve contrived to do the old woman so nicely? O'Cal. How? why, in the way I did you. {Makes passes ; then tele- graphs?) Cha. Oho, I 'm satisfied. {Turns to JULIA.) O'Cal. But I'm not satisfied unless the experiments I have made this evening meet with the others' approbation unless, now the tide has turned with me, and I am restored to fortune, that fortune is enhanced by a per- mission to try my influence on some of the fair and kindly looks I see be- fore me. {Makes passes at the audience?) THE END. FOURTEEN DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. IB I.h 21-100m-2, f 56 s22)476 General Library University of California Berkeley