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 J^OOOeXy wO L-O ©OO^>CODQD£iOQ^^Q^Ck0CCZI4; CCZ.'vL. 'O^ ^m^ZjC CC
 
 THE HIDDEN HAND. 
 
 % §xnmn, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 ADAPTED FROM SIES. E3IMA D. E. N. SOUTHWOKTE'fi 
 
 CELEBRATED NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME, 
 
 PUBLISHED IN THE NEW YORK 
 
 LEDGER. 
 
 BY ROBERT JONES. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, ETC., ETC., 
 CORRECTLY MARKED. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 GEO. M. B/VKER & CO.
 
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 THE HIDDEN HAND. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE 1. TliG Hudson Biver liailroad Depot, Kew TorTt.— 
 Apple-woman's stand, r. ii. — People passing and re-passing. — 
 
 ^ Four-cent Man, news-hoys, &c., discovered. — Music. — Harrt 
 
 tl Willing and Gentleman Dick enter, l. 2 e. — Policeman 
 
 **• crosses from ii. to l., icatching them. 
 
 >- 
 
 g Newshotj. Buy a paper, sir? 'crakl and Ledger. 
 
 t« Dick (r.) No ; get out. I never patronize tlic papers, because 
 
 '£2 they're down upon our frateruit)% But, Harry, this is dull 
 
 -^ worl^. I haven't taken a trick to-day. 
 
 Harry (l.) Nor I either. The greenies are scarce, now. 
 What few do come to town are warned so much by tlie news- 
 
 ^ papers that we don't stand the ghost of a chance to make a 
 
 ^ living. If this thing goes on much longer, I shall starve to 
 
 ^ death. 
 
 ^ Dick. Not a bit of it, my boy. Have courage. Our country 
 
 owes us a living; and if she don't find me one, it won't be my 
 
 fault. (Dming tJiis, the cars have passed into the depot. — Bell 
 
 now rings.) Ah, there's the cars. Come along, and let's see if 
 
 , we can't find a victim. 
 
 ^ {^Tliey exit, l. n. 2 e. — ^ number of hackmen cross from r. to l., 
 encountering Major Warfield, who enters, l. 2 e., surrounded 
 
 ^5 andfolloioed by newsboys, porters, hackmen, <Cc.) 
 
 O Hackman. St. Nicholas, Metropolitan, La Farge, and Ever- 
 
 CQ ett House, sir? 
 
 lu Hurricane. No ; confound you ! 
 
 ^ Newsboy. Carry your portmanteau, sir? 
 
 'j Hur. Get out, you rascals ! I'll see you hanged first. Out 
 -/ of the way, or I'll break your head, sirrah. {Stinking about at 
 random, with his portmanteau, he drives them off, l. 2 e.) Phew ! 
 they don't rob me, if I know it. Well, here I am, on a wild- 
 goose chase, I suppose ; and yet old Nancy Grewel must have 
 
 S 
 
 ^iL -j£i s^ _,!i_ '^fr.;' \J
 
 f THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT JU 
 
 spoke the tnith about the child. If it be so, Gabriel Lc Noir, 
 better you had ^st yourself down from the highest rock of the 
 range, than thus have fallen into my power. 
 {During this, Capitola has entered. — She is dressed in rags, as a 
 
 newsboy, and has a bundle of neiospapers under her arm. — She 
 
 goes to apple-stand, buys an apple, munches it, and, by the end 
 
 0/ Hukkicaxe's speech, advances to him.) 
 
 Capitola (advances). Please, sir, do you want your carpet- 
 bag carried ? 
 
 Hur. Good gracious ! this must be crown prince and heir 
 apparent to the king of shreds and patches. 
 
 Cap. Well, governor, if you've looked long enough, per- 
 haps you'll knoAY me next time. 
 
 Hur. O Lord ! he looks as if he'd never,seen soap and water 
 in all his life. I reckon 111 give you the job, my son. 
 
 Cap. O crickey ! his son; my governor's turned up at last! 
 Do you hear that, fellows? (2b neiosboys, icho have been pass- 
 ing on and off all through this scene.) I always had an impres- 
 sion that I had a father, at some period of my life; and here he 
 is. Who knows but what I might have had a mother also? 
 How's the old woman, sir? 
 
 Hur. What are you talking about, you infatuated tatterde- 
 malion ! If it wasn't for pity, demme — demmc — I'd have you 
 put in the pillory. 
 
 Cap. Thank'ee, sir, I have not had a pillow under my head 
 for a long time. 
 
 Hur. Silence, ragamuffin ! 
 
 Cap. Just so ; a dumb girl is better than a talking one. 
 
 Hur. Boy. do you know such a place as Rag Alley ? 
 
 Cap. Do'l? Don't I? There's the very place. {Points t^.) 
 
 Hur. There ? Why, that's a handsome street. 
 
 Cap. That's it though ; but 'taint called Rag Alley now; it's 
 Eifalutin Terrace. Them tenements you talk of was pulled 
 down more'u a year ago, and those houses put up in their 
 place. 
 
 Hur. And what became of the original tenants? 
 
 Cap. (spouting). "Ask of the winds that for miles around, 
 with fragments strewed the sea ! " Oh ! blowcd away ; thrown 
 away with the rest of the rubbish. 
 
 Hur. Humph, demme, then the trace is lost. But let me 
 see that I am right. (Takes out paper, and reads: *' Go to New 
 York — find out a family by the name of Simmons, who resides in 
 Hag Alley — Kith' them you will find the child.") So I am cor- 
 rect. What shall I do now, — advertise iu the papers, or apply 
 to the police ? I'll do both. Yes, I'll go at once. Here, boy (to 
 Capitola), carry ray portmanteau up to the Astor House; and 
 there's for your trouble. (Gives her a dollar. — Crosses to n.) 
 
 Cap. (aside). Why, lord, it can't be; he must have made a 
 mistake. What if he did? I don't care. Yes I do, though, 
 bonor bright — I say, governor?
 
 Scene 1.] the hidden hand. 8 
 
 Iliir. Well, my lad. 
 
 Cap. You've been and gone and give me a whole dollar, by 
 mistake. # 
 
 Huv. IIow the devil do you knovr it's a mistake, you monkey 
 you? Take it, and be off Avitli you. 
 
 Cap. Stay, governor, don't tempt me, because you see I'm 
 not sure I could keep honest if I was tempted too hard. I 
 know you're from the country, and I must not impose upon 
 your ignorance. 
 
 JIar. My ignorance — demme — you impudent villain ! 
 
 Cap. Yes, you aint cut your eye-teeth yet; you aint up to 
 snuff; you don't know nothing; it's lucky you fell in with an 
 honest lad like me, that would not impose upon your inno- 
 cence. Why, the usual price isn't more than a dime. 
 
 Ilur. What do I care for the usual price, you — you — prod- 
 igy of patches. There, there's au eagle for your lionesty ; and 
 for the Lord's sake get yourself a decent suit of clothes. {Gives 
 monei/.) 
 
 Cap. lie's mad ! I wonder who his keeper is ? — Thank you, 
 sir. I"ll go and tell the police to keep an eye on him. I say, 
 fellows, come along; I'll stand the coffee and cakes. Here's 
 the Herald, Tribune, and Ledger, 
 
 {Exits, L. 1 E. carryinfj the portmanteau, and followed by the news- 
 hoys. — The apple-woman on n. now moves off slowly, r. 2 e., 
 
 with her stand.) 
 
 Hiir. Demme, I wouldn't have believed it; — honesty in the 
 streets of New York. Why, I've heard tliat a stranger is cer- 
 tain to be plucked by the sharpers who infest the streets; and 
 here I liave a positive contradiction. Now then, for the Police 
 Court. 'Tis there I must seek my information, now. 
 {As he is going ojf, n. ir. I i:., Gentleman Dick, dressed as a 
 
 3Iethodist parson, and fjlluwed by Harry, disguised as a porter, 
 
 enters hastily, l, 2 e.) 
 
 Dick {to Hurricane). Sir. my dear sir, I beg pardon; but 
 could you oblige me with change for a twent3'-dolKar bill? I am 
 about to leave by the next train, and I wish to give this good 
 man live dollars. You'll oblige me much if you can accommo- 
 date me. 
 
 Hur. Oh, certainly, sir ; with the greatest pleasure. ( Takes 
 out pocket-book.') There, sir, two lives and a ten. Will that 
 suit? 
 
 Dick. Thank you, sir. At any time I can return the favor, 
 command me. My card, sir. Should you be in our part of the 
 city, shall be glad to have you call upon rae. ( 7o Harry) There, 
 my good man. {Gives him a bill.) Now then, quick, or I shall 
 *ose the cars. {Exit, hastily l. 2 e., with H^uoiY. — People an 
 crossing, during this, at back.) 
 
 Hur. (reads card). Reverend Zebediah Hawkins. Really a 
 very respectable gentleman. If I have time, I'll call upon him 
 1*
 
 6 ' THE niDDEX IIAITD. [ACT L 
 
 Now then, for the Police Court. (^Ue exits, r. 1 e. — Music. — 
 Four-cent Man enters, r. 2 e.) 
 
 F. C. Man. (o^sses to c.) Anything on the board for foui 
 cents. 
 
 Enter woman, l. 1 e. 
 
 Woman (takes up tooth-brush). "What's the price of this tooth- 
 brush? 
 
 F. C. Man. Tweuty-five cents, ma'am. 
 
 Woman. Why, didn't you say anything on the board four 
 cents? 
 
 F. C. Man. Yes, ma'am; but that's in your hand. Second- 
 hand ones half price. ( Woman throics dov:n brush on board, in- 
 difjnantly, and exits, r. 1 e. — Four-cent Man exits, l. 2 e., crying 
 *'Ani/ article" &c.' — Music co-ntimies FP until scene changes.) 
 
 SCENE 2. — Interior of Police Court, in the Tombs. — Judge and 
 clerks discovered. — Desk, c. — Policeman. — Spectators on R. 
 and L. At opening of scene, a co'-fused murmuring. 
 
 Judge (c.) Order in the court ! 
 
 Hurricane (^outside). But I tell you I wish to sec the Chief of 
 the Police. 
 
 Officer (outside). You'll find him on the other side of the hall. 
 (HuRPviCANE enters, r. 1 e. — A noise heard, l. 1 e., and Capi- 
 tola's voice.) 
 
 Cap. (outside). I tell you I haiut done nothin'. (Officer draffs 
 her on, followed by a croicd of neicsboys.) 
 
 Hur. (r.) Eh? what's this? in trouble, ray lad? Come, 
 pluck up. I'll see you through. 
 
 Officer. Lad ! "VYhj^ Lord bless your soul, sir, she's a girl, in 
 boy's clothes. ( 3o C-\pitoi.a) You young devil! you deserve 
 to "be sent up for three months, at least. (Shakes her roughly.) 
 
 Hur. (in a rage, crossing to c.) A girl, is she? Then, dcrame, 
 sir, whether in boys' clothes, men's clothes, soldiers' clothes, 
 or no clothes at all, treat her with the delicacy due to woman- 
 liood ! She is a poor, friendless child ; so no more hard words 
 to her, or, by the Everlasting! I'll-^ 
 
 Judge. Order! order! 
 
 Hur. (crossing back to R.) Yes, judge, I will keep order, if 
 you'll make that brute of a policeman reform his language. 
 
 Cap. Governor, don't keep a lettiu' out in that way or they'll 
 commit you for contempt. 
 
 Hur. i plead guilty to contempt. I suppose they'll imprison 
 you next. But they sha'n't do it. I, Major Wariield, of Vir- 
 giuia, tell you so, my boy — girl, I mean. 
 
 Cap. What an innocent old lion you are ! 
 
 Judge. Order I AVhat's your name, my lad — girl, I should 
 say? 
 
 Cap. Capitola, sir. 
 
 Hur. (aside). Capitola— Capitola. That's the name of the
 
 Scene 2.] the hidden hand. t 
 
 child I'm after. Can't be two Capitolas in the world. Bt^t ^'11' 
 listen, and say nothing-. {.Takes chair, ii.) 
 
 Judge. Capitola what? 
 
 Cap. Kotiiing, sir. I aint got no more than Capitola, sir. 
 
 Judge. Who^is your fiithcr? 
 
 Cap. Never had none that I knows on, sir. 
 
 Judge. Your mother? 
 
 Cap. Never had a mother, sir, as ever I heard. 
 
 Judge. Where do you live? 
 
 Cap. About in spots. 
 
 liar. O Lord ! O Lord ! 
 
 Judge. Order, there ! What's your calling? 
 
 Cap. Sclliug papers, sweeping crossings, blacking boots, 
 and so on. 
 
 Judge. What tempted yon to put yourself in boys' attire? 
 
 Cap. Want, sir, and — and — {sobbing) — danger. 
 
 Hur, Oh! — demme! — oh! oh! 
 
 Judge. Order! Give a clear account of yourself ; — give a 
 clear account, now. Go on, my good boy — girl, I mean. 
 
 Hur. (Jiastilij). Yes, demme, go on. 
 
 Judge. Will you keep order, sir? Go on, girl. 
 
 Cap. It isn't much, sir, I have to tell. I was brought up in 
 Eag Alley, by an old woman named Nancy Grewell. I never 
 suffered cold or hunger until about eighteen months ago, when 
 Crranny took it into her head to go down to Virginia. She 
 never came back again, and by that I knew she must have died. 
 
 Hur. A\\\ poor child! poor child! 
 
 Cap. AVell, for a month or two I got along well enough; a 
 poor fiimily, named Simmons, gave me shelter; and I did little 
 odd jobs for my food, till at length they moved away from the 
 city. 
 
 Judge. And you were left all alone ? 
 
 Cap. Yes, sir, in the empty house, till it should be rented to 
 another tenant; but it never was rented, for word went round 
 that the whole row was to be pulled down, and so I had leave 
 to stay as long as the rats did. 
 
 Judge. But how did^j-ou get your bread, now? 
 
 Cap. Didn't get it at all, sir, bread was too dear. I sold ray 
 clothes, piece by piece, to an old Jew; bought corn meal, and 
 picked up chips enough to make a fire, and cooked a little 
 mush every day, in an old tin can I found in the house. So I 
 lived on for two or three weeks; then, when my meal was 
 about gone I commenced and made gruel. 
 
 Judge. But why did you not seek for something to do? 
 
 Cap. I tried every hour in the day ; but nobody seemed to 
 want me ; some laughed at me, and there seemed nothing but. 
 starvation and death before me. 
 
 Hur. O Lord! O Lord! that such things should be, in a 
 Christian land ! 
 
 Judge. Will you keep order, sir ?
 
 B THE HIDDEN llAJ^. [ACT !■ 
 
 Cap. But there was ^Yorsc behind ; there came a day when 
 my meal icas all ^£?one ; then I kept life in me by drinking water, 
 and sleeping all I could. One morning I was waked up by a 
 great noise ; I staggered to my feet, and there, sir, were the 
 workmen pulling down tlic house over my head. Friglit gave 
 me strength to run from it, and tlien I paused and looked ; the 
 last shelter was gone from me, so I thought I'd go and pitch 
 myself into the river. 
 
 Judge. That was a wicked thought, girl. 
 
 Caj-). I know it was. Well, sir,^the hand -that feeds the ra- 
 vens kept me from dying that daj'. I found a five-cent piece, 
 bought a muffin, and when niglit came I liid myself behind a 
 pile of planks in a lumber yard. I slept till morning. Well, 
 not to tire your honor, I lived on my half dime, spending a 
 cent adav', and sleeping sometimes under t!ie stoop of a house, 
 sometimes in the lumber yard, but always in danger from bad 
 men and boys; but (sobbinr/) I took care of mj'self, {fiercely^ ; 
 yon mustn't any of you dare to think but what I did. 
 
 Officer. Oh, of course you did — of course. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Hiir. (starts vp, and crosses to c.) What do you mean by " Of 
 course," you villain? Demme, 111 swear she did; and if any 
 man dares to hint otherwise, I'll ram his falsehood down his 
 throat with my walking-stick, {llircatcninr/.') 
 
 Judge. Order! order, I say! 
 
 Hur. {crosses to k.) Yes, judge, I'll regard order. But if the 
 Court doesn't protect the child from insult, I will, order or na 
 order, demme ! (Sits.) 
 
 Cap. Governor, don't be so noisy, or they will put you in the 
 stone jug. Why, you remind me of an old fellow granny used 
 to talk about, — old Hurricane they called him, because he was 
 so stormy. 
 
 Hur. Ha, ha ! she's heard of me, then. 
 
 Cap. Well, your honor, when my last penny was gone, a 
 bright thought struck me. I wondered why I had been so 
 stupid as not to think of it before, so I ran to the old Jew's 
 shop and swapped my suit of girl's for the raggedest suit of 
 boy's clothes he had in the shop. I went into that shop a gii'l 
 and came out a boy. My long ringlets he gave me sixpence 
 for. 
 
 Hur. Yes, all was grist that comes to his mill. 
 
 Cap. That's so, governor^ well, that night I slept in peace, 
 behind a pile of boxes, and in the morning I found plenty to 
 do ; I bought papers and sold 'em, carried carpet-bags, cleaned 
 sidewalks, and did anything an honest lad could turn his hand 
 to, and ror more than a year I was happy as a king. This 
 morning, as I was on my way, governor, with your portman- 
 teau, tlie wind blowed off my hat, and the policeman blowed 
 on me. 
 
 Judge. I'm afraid we shall have to send her to the House of 
 tiefuge.
 
 Scene 2.] the hidden hakd. 9 
 
 Hur. (aside). Demme if you do, though. (To Judge) Judge, 
 if a legal guardian appears td claim this girl, may she not ba 
 delivered into his hands ? 
 Judge. Most assuredly. 
 
 Hur. Then, sir, I, Ira Warfield, of Hurricane Hall, in Vir- 
 ginia, claim this girl, Capitola Black, as my ward. For my 
 personal responsibility, I refer you to the proprietors of the 
 Astor House, who have known me for years. 
 
 Judge. It is not necessary, Mr. Warfield. We assume the 
 fact of your responsibility, and deliver up the girl to your 
 charge. 
 
 Hur. I thank you, judge. Capitola, will you go down to 
 old Virginia with me ? 
 
 Cajy. Will I? won't I? because I know you'll be kind to me. 
 Hur. Kind! Ay, that I will. But I say, I shall have to 
 trust to your girl's wit to get yourself into your proper clothes 
 without exciting further notice. 
 
 Cap. All right, governor ; there's a ready-made clothing shop 
 at the "Needle-Woman's Aid," round the corner. I can go 
 down there and get rigged out. 
 
 Hur. Rigged out! Oh, demme! Well, there's a twenty- 
 dollar bill. Call a hack, and when you've got everything ar- 
 ranged drive back to the Astor, where I shall be to receive you. 
 Good morning, judge. (Going r.) 
 
 Cap. I say, governor, none of that, now ; it won't do. You 
 can't come tiiat on me. 
 Hur. Demme ! what do you mean? 
 Cap. Why, this bill is bogus ! — it's queer I 
 Hur. Bogus ! — queer ! 
 
 Cap. It's a bad bill. Why, don't you see, Clara Bank, Coney 
 Island. 
 Hur. But I received it from a most respectable individual. 
 Cap. Lor' bless your green soul ! you've been done ; that indi- 
 vidual was nothing less than a sharper; I shall have to keep 
 you under my eye ; you aint old enough to take care of your- 
 self. 
 
 Hur. Oh, the Lorct! I, Ira Warfield, to be taken in by a 
 sharper! I'll -- demme — let's find the rogue! (Spectators 
 laugh.) What the deuce are you laugiiing at, you villains you? 
 Laugh at me! Come along, boy — girlj^I mean. We'll hunt 
 this rascal up ; and if I find him I'll ram this bill down his con- 
 founded throat with my walking-stick. (He is going r., when 
 Gentleman Dick enters, still dressed as the parson, r. 1 e. — ■ 
 Hurried mudc till end of act.) Demme, there he is ! (Seizes 
 Dick, throws him round to c, and belabors him with cane. — The 
 Judge rises, calling " Order!"— Officer endeavors to interfere. — 
 Capitola j?(wj9s on stool.) 
 
 Cap. Go it, governor ! — two to one on the gov. (Wavea 
 cap, — Act-<Irop descends rapidly.) 
 
 End op Act I.
 
 10 THE HIDDEN nAOT>. [ACT It 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE 1. — A cJiamber in Hurricane Hall, 1st G. — Music, " IFag 
 down in Old Virr/inny." 
 
 Enter Wool, r. 1 e. 
 
 Wool. Yah, yah ! 'pears to me ole massa isn't right in his 
 head-piece, eber since lie went to see de ole witch, and den 
 went off to New York; and now's come back wid a young gal 
 dey call Miss Catapiller. Yah, yah ! golly, dar's a name, I be- 
 lieve you. She's bos of de house, now. Ole Missus Cardimens 
 aint 110 whar. Don't she star era round, I b'lieve you ! She 
 aiut no fool, she aiut. Well, tings is altered a good deal ; and 
 dem as libs longest will see de most. 
 
 Capitola (iDithout). Come along, governor. 
 
 Enter Capitola, l. 1 e., dragging Hurricane by both hands, and 
 laughing. 
 
 Hur. She — shew ! you witch ! stop, will you ! demme ! 
 
 Cap. Never mind, gov., it will do you good, j'ou've all been 
 asleep in this old house, and I intend to wake you up a bit. 
 
 Wool. Yes, I believe you. Yah, j-ah, j^ah! 
 
 Hur. Well now tell me, Cap, how do you like your new 
 home? 
 
 Cap. Oh, gloriously ! What a jolly place it is ! I like it all but , 
 that old dingy room that your house-keeper has been kind 
 enough to put me in. 
 
 Hur. What, the old room in the east wing, eh? I tell you 
 what, girl, if that room could speak, it could tell many a queer 
 tale. There is a trap-door in it. 
 
 Cap. A trap-door! Where? 
 
 Hur. In front of the fireplace, beneath the hearth-rug. But 
 you shall have another, if you don't like that. 
 
 Cap. No, no, gov., you've roused my curiosity, and I rather 
 think I shall like it. 
 
 Wool. More'u I should, by golly ! 
 
 Cap. Come, let's hear all about it? Is there a cellar under 
 that trap ? 
 
 Hur. I never took the trouble to ascertain. 
 
 Wool. But I did, massa major; I found out all about it. 
 
 Hur. You, you black scoundrel! 
 
 Wool. Yes,' I believe you. You see, Mrs. Condiment told I 
 and Pit-a-Pat to get de room ready for Miss Catapiller; and 
 while we was doing so, dc rug was moved. I seed dar was a 
 door dar; so I slips de bolt, and down it fell; and dere I saw — 
 
 ^^; I Well, what? 
 
 Wool. Nuffin — 
 Cav. Nothing!
 
 •Scene 1.] the hidden hand. II 
 
 Wool. But a big hole ! But clat isn't all. You see, I got a 
 little curious ; so I got a lighted stick from de fire, and held it 
 down as far as I could reach ; and den I saw — 
 
 Cap. Well, what? what? 
 
 Wool. Nuffin, too. 
 
 Hiir. Why, you black scoundrel, do you call that finding out 
 all about it? Demme, sir, none of your jokes, or I'll break 
 your confounded thick head for you. 
 
 Cap. There, there, that'll do, gov. ; now tell me all about the 
 trap-door. 
 
 llur. Report says it was constructed to deceive the Indians. 
 That room belongs to the oldest part of the house ; and the 
 first owner of it was Henri Le Noir, one of the grandest villains 
 that ever lived. They say it has an outlet that reaches to the 
 Devil's Punch-bowl, in the hills over yonder. 
 
 Cap. The Devil's Punch-bowl ! 
 
 Wool. 1 shouldn't like to drink any punch out of dat bowl. 
 
 Ilur. Yes, a hollow that drops suddenly in the hills, in the 
 shape of a punch-bowl; long the resort of villains, and men of 
 the worst stamp. Hence its name. 
 
 Cap. I must see that place. 
 
 Hur. What, girl ! If you value your life, avoid that spot. 
 In short, I command you never in all your rides to go beyond 
 the base of the hills. • 
 
 - Cap. Command; come, I like that, gov.; you know I'm not 
 used to being commanded. I didn't live in Rag Alley for noth- 
 ing, I can tell you. 
 
 Hur. Rag Alley ! Will you never forget that home of rags 
 and tatters ? 
 
 Cap. It was the home of independence, if it was one of pov- 
 erty ; but there, we won't quarrel about it. 
 
 iVool. Better not, Miss Catapiller. De massa's de debeJ 
 when he's angry. 
 
 Hur. And now, you jade, I've got a pony I intend to give 
 you. You must learn to ride. 
 
 Cap. I learn to ride ? O nunkey ! where is he ? let me see 
 him. I shall go crazy with joy I 
 
 Wool. Yes, miss, a pony. A pony is a young horse. 
 
 JIur. Silence ! He's on the lavrn, yonder. He's rather skit- 
 tish. You'll perhaps get a fall or two ; but that'll bring yoo 
 back to your senses. 
 
 Wool. Don't know about dat, massa major. Don't you 'mem- 
 ber de fnst time I mount him? 
 
 Hiir. 1 do, you black thief. Ha, ha, ha ! he pitched you over 
 his head twenty feet; and if your skull hadn't been plaguy 
 thick, you wouldn't have been worth a picayune this day. Re- 
 member it? Demme, I do. I never laughed so much in all my 
 life. (BatJi laugh heartily at Wool.) 
 
 Wool. Yes, yes, I believe you. But, I say, massa, yea re- 
 member, also, when you tried your hand at him ?
 
 12 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACl IL 
 
 Hur. AVhat do you mean, you rascal ? If you dare — 
 
 Cap Oh, yes, let's have it. Tell it, Wool. 
 
 Wool. Vv'cll, jest make massa stand closer off. Well, you see, 
 he rard vip, and olo massa turned a summerset over into de 
 swamp; and dar he was, wid his two Ic^^s standing in de air, 
 and his head sticking in de mud. Golly, how de niggers did 
 larf. {During this, Huuricaxe has been icorkinrj himself into a 
 tremendo7is rage, and now flings his cane at Wool, icho dodges it, 
 and runs off J.. 1 e. — CAnxoLA has icithheld the major, laughing. 
 — Wool re-enters.'} Yes, I believe you ! {Disappears, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Hur. The black scoundrel ! to dare to laugh at me ! The — 
 Egad, I don't wonder at it; for there I lay, like a shipwrecked 
 tea-table. Though if I didn't feel so happy I'd murder the ras- 
 cal, demme. 
 
 Cap. And are you really happy, gov. ? 
 
 Hur. Don't you think I ought to be, finding two lost relations 
 at once? Thougl^how the devil I stumbled over the boy Her- 
 bert is a mystery to me. 
 
 Cap. Ah, nunkey, but for him you might not have had the 
 pleasure of falling in with me. 
 
 Hur. Pleasure, madcap ! Do you really think it fs a pleasure 
 to me? 
 
 Cap. Why, haven't I kept vou all alive since I have been 
 here ? 
 
 Hur. By the Lord ! 3'-ou've turned everything topsyturvy ; and 
 as to Mrs. Condiment, hang me if I think she knows whether 
 she stands on her head or her heels. But I say, Cap, do you'^ 
 know these friends that Herbert has gone to visit ? Who are 
 they ? 
 
 Cap. A poor widow and her son, w^ho, when his mother 
 died, reared him as their own. 
 
 Hur. Noble w^oman ! I'll make her fortune for her ; and so 
 I told Herbert to say to her. 
 
 Cap. Oh, what a capital old gov. you are; and what are you 
 going to do for rac? 
 
 Hur. Send you to a lunatic asylum; but as for that poor 
 noble-heavted widow, I'll — I'll — 
 
 Cap. Marry her yourself, won't you, nunkey? Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Hur. Perhaps I will, if it's only to keep you out of trouble anrj 
 lu order, you baggage you. But how was it that Herbert never 
 mentioned the name of these good people? 
 
 Cap. I say, gov., w'ait till he comes back, and then see how 
 long he will talk of them Avithont mentioning their names. 
 
 Hur. So I will, Cap ; so I will, no matter what the name may 
 be. She's a good woman ; and, demme, I'll make her happy, 
 and place her above want. 
 
 Cap. Over my head; ch, nunkey? Ha, ha, ha I 
 
 Hur. Silence, you monkey, or I'll go and propose to her at 
 once. 
 
 Cap, Ha! ha! ha!
 
 Scene 2.] the hidden hand. 13 
 
 Hur. Zounds and the devil ! I'll — I'll — Here, Wool I 
 (Wool enters, hastily, l. 1 e. — Huericaxe makes a blow at Mm 
 with his cane, ichich he avoids, and crosses to c. — IlURRICA^'^ 
 goes L.) Go to the devil, you black imp ! [Exit, in rage, l. 1 e. 
 
 Wool. After you, massa. 
 
 C^r^. Ha ! ha ! a narrow escape, Wool. 
 
 Wool. Yes, I believe you. , [Exit, L. 1 E. 
 
 Caj). What a fiery old i^ov. he is, to be sure ; but I'll tamo 
 him down, I warrant. There's no fires or musses, as we used 
 to have in Rag Alley. But about that trap-door, if I don't find 
 out the mystery about it, if there is one, you can call me a 
 spooney. [Exit l. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE 2. — Log kitchan in the old inn. — A large fireplace, with 
 fire, L. c. — Boor inftat, r., icith hai across it. — Whole appear- 
 ance of scene dilapiidated. — Large oak table r. c., with four 
 chairs. — Feictcr mugs, stone bottles, &c., on table. — Headlong 
 Hal, Stealthy Steve, and Demon Dick discovered at table, 
 •^ Bold music. 
 
 Hal. I wish the captain would come. Where can he have 
 got to ? 
 
 Steve. Oh, he's gone to hear the people talk, and fiind out what 
 they say of him. 
 
 Hal. I shouldn't think it would require much seeking that. 
 But what's the matter with Dick? 
 
 Steve. He's in a bad humor to-night. 
 
 Hal. Was he ever in a good one? (Whistle heard. — All 
 start.) But hush! the captain! (3Iusic. — Goes to door and 
 opens it. — Black Don^vld appears disguised as a Quaker. — Men 
 all start back astonished. — Donald enters, throws himself into a 
 chair, and laughs.) 
 
 Hal. Captain, I don't know what you think of it, but I think 
 it's just as churlish to lau2,h alone as to get drunk in solitude. 
 
 Donald (c.) Oh, you shall laugh too, lads; listen. In this 
 meek disguise I went peddling to-day. 
 
 Hal (r.) Ay, we know, but have a care you don't go once 
 too often. 
 
 Eon. I have been for the last time, and where think you I 
 sought for trade? Why, in the very paws of the lion. In a 
 word, I sold cigars and smoking caps to the judge, and gold 
 spectacles. (Bises.) 
 
 Hal and company. No ! 
 
 Don. Yes! 
 
 Hal and company. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Don. Ay, and to the sheriff, John Eeefe, I ofifered a pair of 
 Bteel handcufis to use if ever he caught that grand rascal. Black 
 Donald. 
 
 Hal. And what said he ? 
 
 Don. That he had some hopes of taking the rascal at last. I 
 3
 
 14 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT ll 
 
 told him it would be a grent day for Alleghany, aud when he 
 was hanged I would endeavor to be present myself. *' Do," said 
 he. I thought, however, it was time to be off, and said, " thee 
 had better let me sell thee these handcuffs, John. I will show 
 tliee their beautiful machinery; hold out thy wrists, John." 
 
 Hal. And did he? 
 
 Do7i. By the Lord he did ! In an instant I snapped them on 
 him, and shouting my name, disappeared before he had col- 
 lected his faculties and discovered his position. 
 
 Hal and company. Ha! ha! ha! (Whistle heard. — AUpaiise.) 
 
 Don. (crosses to u. of table and sits). Hush ! Devil burn ye ! 
 There's some one coming. (Goes to door. — Gives signal. — It 
 is answered idUiout.) It is Lc Noir, who was to meet me here 
 to-night on important business. 
 
 Hal. The colonel ! (Music. — Donald opens door, r. h. f.) 
 
 Enter L|: Noik, at door, disguised in cloak. 
 
 Le Noir. Donald, I would have a word with you. (Sits l. of 
 table.) 
 
 Don. At your command, colonel. Leave us, fellows. (Hal, 
 Steve, and Dick, exit through door k. 1 e.) You seem dis- 
 turbed, colonel. (Sits, n.) 
 
 Le N. Ay, man, I am disturbed. I'm suffering from the 
 pangs of remorse. • 
 
 Don. Remorse! Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Le N. Not for those acts of self-preservation which fanatics , 
 would call crimes, but in every vein of my soul I repent not 
 having silenced in the Hidden House that old woman aud the 
 child thirteen years ago. 
 
 Don. I told you at the time it were better to send them on 
 a longer journey. We live to kill, say the butchers ; so do ice. 
 The world Avas made for the strong and cunning. 
 
 Le N. Donald, that child has returned to the neighborhood. 
 
 Don. The devil she has ! 
 
 Le N. Her name is Capitola. She's the living image of her 
 mother. What proofs may be in old Warfield's possession I 
 know not. All that I have discovered is that old Nancy Grew- 
 ell returned ; that the night before she died she sent for Major 
 Warfield, had a long interview Avith him, and that shortly af- 
 terwards he travelled to the North aud brought home this girl. 
 Donald, this is no time for weakness; this girl, this Capitola, 
 
 JIUST DIE ! 
 
 Don. That's so, colonel. It's a pity it was not done thirteen 
 years ago. It's easier to pinch a baby's nose than to stifle a 
 young girl's shrieks and cries. 
 
 Lc'N. I know there will be additional risks; but hark ye I 
 the day you bring me proof that Capitola Le Noir is dead, one 
 thousand dollars is yours. 
 
 Don. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Capitola Le Noir is the heiress to half a 
 million of dollars, and 5'ou offer me, to put her out of the way, 
 one thousand dollars ! Ha! ha! hal
 
 SCEXE 3.] THE HIDDEN HAND. TS 
 
 Le N. Villain ! the government does not value your whole 
 carcass at more than I offer for the temporary use of your 
 hands. 
 
 Don. No ill names, your honor. They are like kicking guns, 
 apt to recoil. 
 
 Le N. You forget you are in my power. 
 
 Don. I remember that you are in mine, for the day that Black 
 Donald stands at the bar, Col. Le Noir will certainly be beside 
 him. 
 
 Le JSf, (rises, goes down l.) Enough I Do you take me for 
 one of your pals? ' 
 
 Doji. (k., rises). No ! my pals are too poor to hire their work 
 done ; but then they are brave enough to do it themselves. In 
 one word, I demand ten thousand dollars. Five thousand in 
 advance, the remainder when the deed's done. 
 
 Le N. Extortion ! 
 
 Don. If you don't like the terms, you need not employ me. 
 
 Le N. You take advantage of my necessities. 
 
 Don. Not at all. But I'm tired of this sort of life, and wish 
 to retire from active business. I want to emigrate, settle, 
 marry, get elected to Congress, perhaps to the White House. 
 Ten thousand dollars will give me a fair start. Many a suc- 
 cessful politician, as your honor knows, has started on less 
 capital than that. 
 
 Le N. {aside). He has me in his power. Why should I hesi- 
 tate ? (Aloud) Well, I agree to the terms ; meet me here to- 
 morrow evening and the money shall be yours. In the mean 
 time, be careful ; a mistake might be fatal. 
 
 Don. Oh, you can trust me. 
 
 Le N. Good-night then, and remember to-morrow. {Music, 
 hold.) lExit D. F. 
 
 Don. Ha! ha! ha! Why does that man think it needful to 
 look so villauous ? If I were to go about in such a bandit-like 
 dress as that, every child I met would take mo for what I am. 
 'Tis strange this girl should have returned. Gad! I'll first see 
 what sort of a thing it is. I must get sight of her. But how? 
 I have it! - Lucky thought! Truly, Donald, thou hast enacted 
 so many parts, it woijld be hard if thou canst not successfully 
 assume one now. Ho, there, lads ! lads ! ILxit k. u. e. 
 
 SCENE 3. — A plain Jdtchen in the home of Marah liocJce. — 
 Windoio in flat, icith plain curtains. — Music, ^^ The Heart 
 Bowed Down, etc." 
 
 Enter MaPwVH, k. 1 e., slowly, towards the end of music, 
 
 Marah. There ; supper is ready and my dear son Traverse 
 mil soon be home to enjoy it. Ah, hard, hard is the fate 
 which compels him to toil, early and late, for my support! 
 Yet how willingly he does it! Well, w^ell, I must not com- 
 plain ; it is the will of Providence, and it were impious in ine 
 to murmur.
 
 16 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT II. 
 
 Enter Traverse, l. 1 e. {Goes to Marah and kisses her.') 
 
 Traverse. Mother, dear mother ! 
 
 Mar. Will you never have outgrown your babyhood? 
 
 Tra. Yes, dear mother, in everything: but the privilct^P of 
 loving you. That I shall never outgrow {Kisses). Mother, I 
 shall not be wanted any longer at the store. Mr. Specie'? man 
 has recovered his health and returued to his work. 
 
 Mar. So they have discharged j'ou? 
 
 Tva. Yes ! But how fortu^nate ! for I shall be able, to-mor- 
 row, to do all the little. odd jobs about the garden that have 
 been waiting for me so long, and tlien on Monday I shall get 
 more work. 
 
 Mar. I wish I were sure of it. 
 
 Tra. What do you think, mother, has become of Herbert, 
 my foster-brother? 
 
 Mar. I dread to conjecture. It is now nearly three years 
 since we have heard from him. 
 
 Tra. Do you think he has been lost at sea? 
 
 Mar. No! I feel assured it is not so. Do you know, Traverse, 
 that for the past three nights I have dreamt of him; and if I 
 were at all superstitious I should say that his spirit was hover- 
 ing near me now. 
 
 Tra. Then he will come back. Ha ! what step is that? 
 
 Herbert (Outside, l. 1 e). Traverse! Mother! 
 
 Tra. 'Tis Herbert! 'Tis he, mother ! 
 
 Enter Herbert hastily, l. 1 e. ' 
 
 Her. Traverse ! (Shakes hands icith him, and crosses to c.) 
 Mother! (Embraces her.) 
 
 Tra. O Herbert, I am so glad to see you. 
 
 Her. Brother, I have come to repay all your acts of kindness 
 to me. But, mother, you do not welcome me ! 
 
 Mar. (embracing hiiii). My son! my sailor boy! it's my own 
 blood. Welcome back again. You have travelled far; I 
 will get supper for you directly. 
 
 Her. Do not trouble yourself; I took supper three miles 
 back, where the stage stopped. 
 
 Mar. Why, Herbert, have you been s.o silent? For three 
 years we have not received one line from you. 
 
 Her. And can you think I had forgotten you? No, no ! My 
 heart yearned too fondly for the protectors of my youth. In 
 each port that our ship has stopped have I mailed remembrances 
 to you. 
 
 Mar. I believe thee, Herbert; and 'twas the thought of thy 
 rtrong affection which made me fear that death had taken thee 
 for its victim. But thou art here now, and I am happy once 
 again. 
 
 Her. And now let me tell you the good news I have for you. 
 
 31ar. Oh, tell it, tell it ! Have you got a ship of your own, 
 Herbert?
 
 Scene 3.] t«e niDDi^x haxb. 17 
 
 Her Better than that. Yoii know that I hnd a rich uncle 
 whom I had never seen, because, from the time of my dear 
 mother's marriage to lier death, she and her brother had been 
 estranged from cacli other? 
 
 Ma)\ {rov fused). Yes, yes ! I have heard so ; but your mother 
 and m3'.self never alhided to the subject. 
 
 Her. Exactly! Well, when I came on shore, who should I 
 meet at the hotel but this rich imcle! He knew me at once, 
 received me with much kindness, and has oflcred me a home 
 beneath his roof. Are you not glad at my good fortune? 
 
 Tra. Oh, yes ! indeed we are. Herbert, I give you joy. 
 
 Her. I knew you'd be glad for me; but now I want you to 
 be glad yourselves. AVhen I told him what friends you had 
 been to me — 
 
 Mar. {Jiastilfj). Oh, no! You did not — you did not men- 
 tion us to him ? 
 
 Tra. (crosses to c.) Why, mother! Why should I not? Was 
 there anything wrong in that? 
 
 Mar. No, no! certainly not! I forgot — I — only that we 
 are poor, and should not be forced upon the attention of the 
 rich. Well, Herbert, as you Avere saying a':out my — Major 
 WarfiekVs kindness — go on. (Crosses to c.) 
 
 Her. When I told him how kind you had been to me, he was 
 moved to tears. I saw the teardrops glistening in his eye, 
 as he walked the floor, mutteiing to himself, — poor woman, — 
 good woman, — excellent woman. 
 
 3Iar. Go on I What more did he say? 
 
 Her. That all that he could do for you was but a sacred debt 
 he owed you, and that, in fact, he would compensate for the 
 past by doing you and yours full justice. 
 
 3Iar. He acknowledged it! Thank Heaven ! thnnk Heaven! 
 
 Tra. Mother, what is the meaning of this? Tell us what 
 it is. 
 
 3far. I am so happy at last I After eighteen 5-ears of patient 
 hoping against hope ! Oh, I shall go mad w.ith joy ! But tell 
 me, Herbert, are you sure that he — that Z^lajor Vv^'artield — 
 knew who we were? 
 
 Her. I'-sl I told him all about you, — your troubles, your 
 disinterestedness, and all your history ever since I knew you. 
 
 3Iar. Then 5^ou are sure lie knew who he was talking about? 
 
 Her. Of course he did. 
 
 3Iar. Did he allude to any previous acquaintance with us? 
 
 Her. No, mother, except that he bade me hasten to you and 
 make you glad with his message, and to return as quick as 
 possible, and let him know whether you would accept his 
 offers. 
 
 Mar. Accept them ! Oh, yes, yes ! I have waited for them 
 for years. Oh, children, you gaze upon me as if you thought 
 me mad. I am not so, nor can I now explain myself; but you 
 will know all soon. Go, then, dear Herbert, tell liim I accept
 
 18 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT IL 
 
 with joy his offer, for the sake of Traverse. My child, —oh, 
 joj I — the hour loug looked for has come at last. {Crosses c.) 
 Providence, how bountiful are thy ways ! My heart is too full! 
 Tears, come to my aid! In the solitude of my chamber let me 
 pour out my thanks to that benignant Power that watches over 
 the shorn lamb. lExit, hastily, r. 1 e. 
 
 Tray. What can be the meaning of this, Herbert? I can't 
 understand it. 
 
 Her. But I can, Traverse. Poverty is hard to bear, and the 
 hope that for your sake her trials are over, has overjoyed her. 
 I shall away at once. Go you to your mother; soothe her till 
 I return, to ccnvey her to that home she so much deserves, and 
 shall hereafter enjoy. [^Shakes hands with Traverse, exit l. 1 e. 
 
 [Traverse exit, r. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE 4. — The Plantation at Hurricane Hall. Tobacco groio- 
 ing at back, icith negroes at icork. A row of large trees on l. n. 
 side. Fountain r. 2. e., and large stone basin to receive the 
 icater. A low hedge runs across stage, at back, icith opening c. 
 Tliex>ortico of the house, on steps is r. 3 & 4 e. A large bin, 
 supposed to contain meal, &c., r. 2 e. Music, ^^ My Old Ken- 
 tucky Home." 
 
 Enter Mrs. CoxDniEXT, from house, r. n. 
 
 3Irs. C. Here, "Wool, — Wool! . Where can that lazy nigger 
 be? it's lucky for him the major is not by. 
 
 Wool {entering l. u. e.) Here I is, Mrs. Cardimcns, — what 
 you want ? 
 
 3Irs. C. Where's the major, Wool ? 
 
 Wool. Down at de stable, blowing Jim up like de debbil, 
 kase he gib him a lame horse. He shied the curricomb at ray 
 head ; but I tuk care to dodge, and make myself scarse, kase 
 I knows de massa. Yes, I believe you. 
 
 Mrs. C. And where's Miss Black? 
 
 Wool. Oh, she's down dar, too; dar she stands, larfin at de 
 major. I larf, too ; dat's what brought de curricomb arter me. 
 
 Mrs. C. Well. Wool, see a good fire made in the trap cham- 
 ber. Miss Black will occupy ihat for the future. 
 
 Wool. Say, missus, dar's a sailor chap out at de gate says 
 he's got some magniferous goods he wants to show de ladies 
 ob de house. 
 
 Mrs. C. A sailor? "well, fetch him here, Wool. 
 
 Wool. Just so, missus. ' \_Exit, l. u. e. 
 
 Mrs. C. A sailor, with foreign goods for sale. I'm afraid 
 Le's one of those smugglers I've heard tell of. However, there 
 can be no harm in looking at his goods. 
 {Be-enter Wool, followed by Black Donald, disguised as a 
 
 sailor, icith a large pack of silks, &c., on his back. He takes 
 
 off hat and bows. Music, ''Life on the Ocean Wave.") 
 
 Don. (c.) Servant, madam. I've brought a few goods, con-
 
 gCENE 4.] THE HIDDEN HAND. 19 
 
 sisting of rich China silks, purchased in Shanghai, which I'll 
 sell cheap. 
 
 Wool. (l. n.) Shanghai! dats dc place war our olc roostei 
 come from. 
 
 J)on. Perhaps you've some young ladies in the fleet- I've 
 goods as ■will rig 'em out as gay as a clipper. 
 
 3Irs. C. (n. ii.) Wool, call the house servants; perhaps they 
 would like to buy something. 
 
 Wool, (aside) "Ole missus wants to get de pick. If he's got 
 any cotton bandannas, I'll take one or two myself. Yah ! yah! 
 X believe you. 
 (Exit into the Jiouse, n. n. Donald opens the pack and displays 
 
 silks, cOc. Mrs. C. f<jlloKs Wool up, then advances l.) 
 
 Mrs. C. I didn't wish to inquire before the servants; but 
 I'm afraid, my good man, you risk your liberty in an unlawful 
 trade. 
 
 Don. On my soul, ma'am, these things arc honestly come 
 by, and you have no right to doubt me. 
 
 Mrs. C. I know I haven't ; but did these goods pass through 
 the custom house ? 
 
 Don. Tliat's not a fair question, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. C. I do not know whether smuggling is right or wrong ; 
 but I do not feci at lii)erty to purchas^e goods of a man who 
 risks his life in an unlawful traffic. ^ 
 
 Don. (c.) AVhy, Lor bless you, ma'am, if wc risks oirr lives 
 it's our own business, and if you've no scruples on your ac- 
 count, you needn't have any on ours. 
 
 Re-enter Wool, loith all the servants, male and female. 
 
 Wool. Come along, boys and gals, dare's de smuggler dat 
 hab dc goods. 
 
 Mrs. C. {to them, l.) You may look at these things, but you 
 must not purchase them. 
 
 Wool, (ii.) Dar goes my bandannas. 
 
 Enter Capitola, in ridinrj-dress, hastily, L. u. e., and advances l. 
 
 Cap. Hollo ! what queer fish have you picked up here? 
 
 Mrs. C. A sailor, my dear, with foreign goods for sale. 
 
 Cap. A sailor? Isn't he a smuggler? 
 
 Wool, 'l believe you. 
 
 3Irs. C. (l. c.) Indeed, my dear, I'm afraid he's not what ha 
 seems. 
 
 Cap. Ifhe's a bold buccaneer, I want to talk to him. Say, you 
 sir, show me your goods ; I'm very fond of sailors. ( Crosses to c.) 
 
 Don. (k. c.) Ay, you would 'give us poor follows a chance 
 to turn an honest penny. (Shows silk.) Tiiere's a genuine 
 China silk. I bought it myself, on my last cruise, in the streets 
 of Shangliai. 
 
 }VooL Yes, miss, Shanghai; dat's de place where dc roosters 
 come from.
 
 20 TlIE inDDEN HAIO). [ACT II. 
 
 Cap. Wool ! {Baises whip.') 
 
 Wool. I's done. 
 
 Don. (sJioicina siUi). This is an article of great value. Look, 
 now beautiful. "^ And this (sJioir^s lohite shawrj cannot be pur- 
 chased but in Cashmere, -where the article is made. 
 
 Wool. You see dat arr Cashncer shawl? It's made out of 
 iii^2:ers' wool, dyed white. 
 
 Cap. Wool ! Pomp, get the horsewhip. (Po:mp is going l.) 
 
 Wool. Stop, stop dare, Pomp; I's done. 
 
 Cap. Look here, my brave buccaneer, I've been the rounds. 
 Mrs. Condiment, if you want to buy that India silk ycu are 
 looking at so lovingly, you may do it with a safe conscience. I 
 know all about thaso foreign goods ; they arc manufactured in the 
 North, and sent through the country by agents, who dress and 
 talk like sailors, because they know well enough fine ladies 
 will buy quicker and pay more if they onl}'^ fancy they are 
 cheating Uncle Sam in buying from a smuggler at half price. 
 
 JUrs. C. So, then, you are not a smuggler, after all. 
 
 Don. You know, ma'am, I told you you were accusing me 
 wrongfully. 
 
 Cap. There, what did I tell you? 
 
 Mrs. C. Well, lie knows if he wanted to pass himself off for 
 a smuggler, it didn't take licre. 
 
 TFooL Dat's a fac ; couldn't fool us. Yah ! yah ! 
 
 C'aj9. Wool! Well, my good fellow, as it is getting late .in 
 the morning we will make some purchases ; and after breakfast 
 you can pursue your journey. 
 
 Don. Thank you kindly, miss ; but I must be far on my jour- 
 ney to-night. * 
 
 Mrs. C. But, my good man, you do not know the danger you 
 run by travelling'^at night with that valuable pack of goods. 
 If you should encounter Black Donald — 
 
 Caj). Black Donald, who is he? and why is he called Black 
 Donald? 
 
 Mrs. C. For his black deeds, black soul; his black hair and 
 beard. 
 
 Wool. Yes, dat's so. His har is four yards long; he stands 
 fourty feet high, and eats two oxen and a little chicken, cbery 
 day, for his fodder. 
 
 Cap. And I suppose drinks a barrel of whiskey at one gulp, 
 to wash it down. 
 
 Wool. I believe you. 
 
 Don. (to I\Ius. C") Have you ever met the wretch, ma'am? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh ! I — I should drop down dead with terror ! 
 
 Wool. I reckon dis uigger'd*be 'mong de missiu, 'bout dat 
 time, too. 
 
 Don. (to Cap.) What think you of this outlaw, young lady? 
 
 Cap. I like him. I like men whose names strike terror into 
 the hearts of the commonplace people. 
 
 Wool. Oh, de Lord!
 
 Scene 1.] the ihddei^ uasd. * 2i 
 
 Mrs. C. O Miss Black ! 
 
 Cap. Yes I do, and if he were only as honest as he is trave, 
 I would adore him. If tliere is one person in the world I wish 
 to see, it is Black Donald. 
 
 Wool. Not now, Miss Catapiller. Oh, Lord a marcy ! 
 
 Don. And do you know Avhat happened to the rash girl that 
 wished to see his satanic majesty ? 
 
 Cap. No! What did? 
 
 Bon. She saw him. 
 
 Wool. De devil she did ! 
 
 Cap. Oh, if that's all, I say it, and if wishing will bring the 
 sight of this notorious outlaw, I wish it. I wish to see Black 
 Donald. (^1 la Diahle). 
 
 Don. Behold him ! {Tlirows off cap, and hanclJcerchief which 
 has concealed his beard. — Hurried music. — Negroes scream, and 
 rush off at different entrances. —Mrs. Conddient runs into house. 
 — Wool disappears- in the meal-bin, k. — Capitola suddenly 
 springs upon his back, clinging to him. — He slips off jacket and 
 cap, and runs to r. 1 e. — Is met by negro with gun, ivho shnnks 
 from him. — Goes to l. 1 e. — Is met by another negro with gun, 
 &c. — Goes ^0 L 2 E., and meets Hukricane, ichom he knocks into 
 fountain, — Negroes all re-enter, r. andi.., and rush about in con- 
 fusion. — Wool rises in meal-bin, covered with mcal^ and his 
 mouth filled with it,-which he scatters about. — Capitola kiughs, 
 as the drop descends.') 
 
 End of Act II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE 1. — Tlie plantation, as in Act U., Scene i. — MusiCy "A 
 Little More Cider." 
 
 Enter Hurricane and Herbert, from house^ r. 
 
 Hur. And so, Herbert, the poor woman was delighted with 
 the prospect of better times. And the boy, Herbert ! the boy ! 
 
 Her. Oh, sir, delighted for himself, but still more for his 
 mother. Her joy was such as to astonish and alarm me. Be- 
 fore that I had thought Marah Rocke was a proud woman. 
 
 Hur. (astounded). Thought who was a proud woman? 
 
 Her. Marah Kocke. 
 
 Hur. {in great rage). Young man! did you know the shame 
 you dashed in my face with the name of that woman? 
 
 Her. She is the best and dearest of her sex. 
 
 Hur. Best and dearest! idiot! This, then, is why yon con«
 
 22 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT III. 
 
 cealedlier name from me until you had won my promise to aid 
 her.; but see, sir, I break it thus {snaps his cane in two), and 
 when you can unite those ends, and make them bear green 
 leaves again, then you can reconcile Ira Warfield to Marah 
 Kocke. 
 
 Her. What is the cause of this emotion, sir? 
 
 Hur. Emotion ! Demme, sir, am I a man to give way to 
 emotion? Mind what you say, sir. Go, — go back to that 
 woman and tell her, as she values her life, never to utter or 
 even think my name again. 
 
 Her. Sir, you cannot mean it. And as for Mrs. Eocke, as a 
 good woman, I feel it my duty to uphold her name and repu- 
 tation. 
 
 Hur. Good ! Ugh ! Ugh ! But I'll command myself; I'll not 
 give way again. Good! Ha! ha! I see now, boy, that you 
 are a dupe. But tell me, sir, do you know anything of this 
 woman's former life ? 
 
 Her. Nothing, sir; but I would stake my salvation on her 
 integrity. 
 
 Hur. Then you'd lose it, lad, that's all. But listen: at the 
 ripe age of forty-five I succeeded in achieving the greatest folly 
 in my life. I fell in love with and married a girl of sixteen, — 
 married her secretly for fear of the ridicule of my brother ofli- 
 cers, -•put her in a snug cabin in the woods, and visited her 
 by stealth ; but I was watched, my hidden treasure was Sis- 
 covered, demme. I cannot tell this story in detail. One night 
 I came home late and quite unexpectedly, and found a man in 
 my wife's cabin. I broke the man's head, sir, tore the woman 
 from my heart. That man was Gabriel Le Noii', and the 
 woman was Marali Rocke. (Crosses k.) 
 
 Her. Surely, sir, there must have been some mistake. 
 
 Hur. Mistake ! Demme, sir, do you think I couldn't believe 
 my own eyes? But never let me see her; never let her hope 
 for assistance from me; and, boy, if you value my friendship — 
 Ugh ! Tell her that Ira Warfield will carry these sentiments to 
 his grave. (Hurries off, n. 1 e.) 
 
 Her. Strange, eventful history. Poor Marah! Oh, I will 
 not believe this of her. There has been foul wrong done to 
 her, and though I waste energy and life in the pursuit, I'll 
 prove to this stubborn man that Marah Rocke is not the out- 
 cast he would make her. [Exit l. 1 e. 
 
 Enter "Wool, Pit-a-Pat, and Po:mp, from house. 
 
 Wool. Come along, Pomp ! mas'rgone oflf, and Miss Catapiller 
 out riding. Oh de Lord, wont de major be mad when he 
 knows it? I believe you. 
 
 Pomp. Why, Wool? 
 
 • Wool. Case he forbid her going out alone, she's such a har- 
 um-scarum critter, and he's afraid she'll break her neck some 
 of these days ; so he tells all de boys not to saddle de pony for 
 her.
 
 Scene 1.] the hidden haxd. 23 
 
 Pomp. And "wliat did she Scay to dat? 
 
 Wool. Golly! she didn't say nufliii, but just harnessed ^e 
 pony herself; and raouutin' him, told us to give her compli- 
 ments to the governor, and say she'd be home when she got 
 back. Yah! 3-ah! 
 
 Pomp. And is you gwan to tell him, "Wool? 
 
 Wool. I radertiuk not, for ole massa swear dat he skin me 
 alive if I let her go ; and dis chile wouldn't look well with his 
 hide off. But look here, Pomp, can't you bring out de ole banjo 
 and gib us a tune, now? 
 
 Pomp. Yah! yah! Now you talks. Golly! dats my piana. 
 
 Wool. Fetch him. Pomp. (Exit Pomp, u. e. k.) 1 lubs de 
 banjo better dan anything on earth. 
 
 Pit. {down close to him, n.) 'Cept me. Wool. 
 
 Wool. Go way, gal, you knows I lub you, but den — 
 
 Pit. Den what. Wool? 
 
 Wool. I lubs de banjo better. • 
 
 Pit. Ugh ! You ugly nigger ! (Qoes up.) 
 
 Wool. 1 believe you. I "know Pse ugly. Don't kotch me 
 dar, gal. Yah ! yah ! yah ! 
 
 Pe-enter Pomp, followed hy male and female darkies, n. u. e. 
 
 Pomp. Here we is, Wool. 
 
 Wool. Dat's it. Kow den, Pomp, squat and tune hor up. 
 (So19^ and chorus.) 
 
 Enter Capitola, l. v. e. 
 
 Capitola, Now, then, what's going on here, eh? Wool, is 
 the major in the house? 
 
 Wool. I radcr tink not. Miss Catapiller. Massa went off, jest 
 now, in a debil of a rage. Golly, you'd better not get in der 
 way just now. 
 
 Cap. He's angry, is he ? then I shall have a chance to aston- 
 ish the old dragon. I like that old man ; but he must be made 
 to know his place. 
 
 Wool (aside). Won't der be an explosion when dem two meet? 
 (Aloud) Miss Catapiller, won't you oblige de darkies, here, by 
 singing dat ar pretty song I heard you warble toder day. You 
 see, I's got an affection of de busum, and dat ar 'peals to my 
 feelings so. 
 
 Cap. Sing it ; to be sure I will, Wool ; but you must all join 
 In the chorus ; and as music hath charms to sooth the savage 
 breast, who knows but it may tame the major down. (Song 
 and chorus, — " Capitola." — Breakdown by darkies.) 
 
 Hur. (without, r.) Wool, go and call Miss Black to me ! 
 
 Wool. Oh, de Lord ! scatter, boys and gals ! (Darkies run 
 0/, R. ancZ L. u. E.) 
 
 Cap. Pll be off, too. Wool; tell the major I am gone out to 
 grass. Now I'll teach him a lesson he'll not readily forget. 
 
 {^Exit L. u. E.
 
 34 THE HIDDEN HAlO). [ACT III. 
 
 IVool. Here's a pretty fix dis nigger's In. 
 • Enter Hureicaxe, r. 1 e. 
 
 Muj^. Send Miss Black to mc ! Rascal ! do you hear me ? 
 
 Wool (hesitating). Radcr bard ob liearln', to-day, mas'r. 
 
 Har. Deramc, why dou't you move, you villain! 
 
 Wool. De Lord help dis chile, now! Massa major, I's berry 
 sorry to say, I couldn't do it. 
 
 liar. Wiiat ! mutiny in the camp ! What do you mean, you 
 devil's imp? 
 
 Wool. 'Kasc Miss Catapiller's gone out on de pony. 
 
 Iliir. (amazed). No! 
 
 Wool. Yes, I believe you. 
 
 Har. And she has dared to disobey my orders. And you, 
 you infernal rascal 1 did I not tell you not to let her have any 
 horse fi'om the stable ? 
 
 Wool. I disremember dat, massa. 
 
 Hur. You do, en? But I remember that I promised to skin 
 you alive if you did so ; and dcmme if I don't do it ! (Prepares.') 
 
 Wool. O massa! I remember dat, (Aside) Only tink of dis 
 nigger goin' widgut his skin ! Don't, massa major, don't ! 
 
 Hur. "Come here, j^ou black vagabond ! I'll teach j'ou to dis- 
 obey orders. (Makes a dash at Wool, zoho dodges, and crosses 
 to R. -r- HuiiRiC-\Js^E chases him round to l.) 
 
 E)iter Capitola, l. u. e., icho comes between them. 
 
 Cap. Hollo! governor; wliat's the matter? 
 
 Wool. Tank de Lord ! lExit, l. 1 e. 
 
 Cap. Oh ! my, what a look ! Now I've no doubt you think 
 to frighten somebody. You're mistaken, governor. 
 
 Hur. ]\Iiss, how dare you have the impudence, the assur-' 
 ance, the brass, the effi-ontery to speak to me I 
 
 Cap. Well, I declare ! 
 
 Hur. Young woman! tell me instantly, and without prevari- 
 cation — demme, where have you been? 
 
 Cap. Going to and fro upon the earth, with the pony under 
 me. 
 
 Hur. Flames and fires! this is no answer! (Walks, in rage.) 
 
 Cap. Look here, uncle, if you go on in that way you'll have 
 a fit presently. 
 
 Hur. Where the devil have you been ? 
 
 Cap. Across the river, through the woods, and back again. 
 
 Hur. And didn't I forbid you to do that, minion? How dare 
 you disobey my orders ! Do you know the jeopardy you placed 
 yourself in? — you, the creature of my bounty ! — the miserable 
 little vagrant, that I picked out of the streets, and tried to make 
 a lady ol"! You should have locked yourself in your room, you 
 beggar ! — you street boot-black ! ere you disobeyed your bene- 
 factor ! — a man of my age, character, and position, and the 
 master of this house 1
 
 Scene 2.] the hidden hand. 25 
 
 Cap. Undo, you rescued mo from misery, perhaps from 
 deaiii; you have placed mo in a home of abundance, honor^ 
 and security. For all this, if \ were not grateful, I should de- 
 serve no less th.ivi death. But, uncle, there is a sin worse than 
 this. It is to put a helpless fellow-creature under heavy obli- 
 gations, and then treat them with undeserved contempt and 
 cruel unkindness. Farewell! {Goimj l. ii.) 
 
 Hur. Stop, miss! Where arc you going? 
 
 Cap. P.ack to the home you rescued me Trcm. Freedom and 
 peace is sweeter than wealth with misery. 
 
 Ilur. But, Capitola — I didn't mean — it was all for your own 
 good. I — I — 
 
 Cap. I won't be treated with kicks and promises at the same 
 tim3. I'm not a cur pup, to be fed on roast beef and beaten 
 with the bones. Such abuse as you have heaped upon me I 
 never heard before, not even in Rag Alley. 
 
 Ilur. Zounds! will you never forget Kag Allfty? 
 
 Cap. I won't ; I'll go back there. 
 
 Hur. Demme, I wont let j'ou ! 
 
 Cap. Then I'll have you up before the nearest magistrate, 
 and make you show by what right you detain me here. 
 
 liar. Whew! Now, my dear niece; I only meant to speak 
 for your good. 
 
 Cap. {bnitatinrj his previous manner). Then how dare you 
 have titb brass, the impudence, the assurance, the copper, to 
 talk to me in the manner vou did? 
 
 Har. AVhat! 
 
 Cap. Old gentleman, answer me ! 
 
 Ilur. Demme, is the girl crazy? 
 
 Cap. Didn't you know, you frantic old veteran, the jeopardy 
 you placed yourself in, by getting up steam in that manner. 
 You dishonored old man, you should have put your head in a 
 basket, you headstrong, desperate, reckless old invalid, ere 
 you allowed yourself to vilify me, a young lady of character, 
 position, and the mistress of this house. Hem! demme ! 
 
 \^Exit, strutting, r. 1 e. 
 
 Ilur. Oh, oh! Ah! Ha, ha! I like this. She's showing 
 mc off. Thank you, miss ; I owe you one. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 [_Exit into house, Vi. -a. 
 
 SCENE 2. — TIic apartment ofMarah Hocke, as before. — MusiCf 
 " The heart bowed dozen." 
 
 Enter Marah, k. 1 e., reading a letter. 
 
 3Iar. (reads.) ''My dearest and best Mrs. Iioc7ce,— May Heaven 
 strengthen you to read the few bitter lines I have to write. Major 
 Warficld, upon hearing your name, xcUhdrew all his promises. 
 He told me your early history; yet I believe you as pure as an an- 
 gel. Trust in Heaven and believe in the earnest respect and affec- 
 iion of your grateful and attached son. ^Herbert Grayson." 
 3
 
 26 THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT 111, 
 
 « Trust ill Heaven!" Aye! It has given me Strength to bear 
 iU'ith rcijignation greater trials tJian this, and shall I now re- 
 pine? ^o! Courage, poor licart! Disappointment may do 
 much ; bur, for the sake of my dear son, I will strive to bear 
 with it. 
 
 Enter Traverse, l. 1 e. 
 
 • Tra. Dear mother, in tears! What is the meaning of this? 
 
 Mar. Traverse, misfortunes never come singly. Major War- 
 Cold has regretted his promise to aid us. 
 
 7Va. Tlien let it go, dear mother. If we arc poor, wo can 
 still liold up our heads in honor. But, mother, tell mc of my 
 father. 
 
 Mar. Not now, Traverse. In time you will know all. But 
 6CC ! I will read the doctor's letter. {Reads) '' Dear Madam, — 
 M'j daughter Clara, having just returned from school, to pursue 
 her studies at hmie, needs a companion. If you idll accept the 
 position, Iicill make the terms such as shall reconcile you to your 
 change. Yours truly, W. Day." 
 
 Tra. O mother, of course you'll go? 
 
 Mar. I do not know. Traverse dear. I shall weigh over this 
 matter to-night, and sleep on it; and He to whom even the fall 
 of a sparrow is not indifferent, will in his supreme wisdom 
 guide me. {She embraces Traverse, and exits r. 1 e.) Music 
 " You'll Remember 3Ie." PF. • 
 
 7)-a. AVise, dear, little mother! IIow my heart bleeds tO'See 
 her grief. I trust she will accept this ofler; 'tis for her good 
 I am certain. And for myself, soon, with perseverance and in- 
 dustry, shall I be in a position to place her above the reach of 
 want. Sweet be your dreams, good mother. Good night ! good 
 night ! {Exits, l. 1 e. — Music till change. — Lights down.) 
 
 SCENE 3. — An old oaken chamber. — Latticed loindoics, n. and 
 L. E., ivilh heavy curtains to each. — Old-fashioned fireplace and 
 mantelshelf, with clock, c. — Hearth-rug, icith trap -under ity 
 in front of the fire. .— Bed, l. h., idth curtains. — Bureau, l. 2 
 •E..,\cilh toilet glass, tablQ, c, toith supper on trgy. — Bottld of 
 brandy and glass. — Tormentors on r. and L. — Stage dark. — 
 
 Enter Mrs. CoxDniEXT, tcith two lighted candles, r. n. d. 1 e. — 
 She places them on table. — Capitola follows on and crosses to 
 L. — Wool, runs on as if frightened. — ZZe carries a basket of 
 uood to kindle fire, c. 
 
 Mrs. C. Now, Wool, build a fire on the hearth. It will make 
 the old room more cheerful. 
 
 Wool. Dar' say it will, missus ; but you couldn't kotcli dia 
 chile sleepin' in it. {Qoes up and lights fire.) 
 
 Mrs. C. Don't be a fool, Wool. 
 
 Cap. Why, what can there be to fear? 
 
 Wool. Ghosts and spirits I
 
 BcEXE 3. J THE HIDDEN HAND. 27 
 
 Cap. Oh, if tli.at's fill! I've had too much to do with evil 
 spirits already to fear them uow. • 
 
 Wool. Do Lord a marcy ! 
 
 Mrs. C. Tut, tut, you blockhead ! Yon'U be spoiling the rest 
 of Miss Black, aud, like the Hidden House, she'll begiu to think 
 this is haunted. 
 
 Cap. Hidden House! — haunted! And have you indeed a 
 haunted house in this country? Oh, that's jolly. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, miss, tiiere is an old-fashioned house, built, 1 
 don't know how long- ai^o, — the property of the Le Noirs, one 
 of -whom was murdered in it; aud ever since it has been said 
 to be liauntcd. 
 
 Wool. Dat's so ; I can swar to dat. 
 
 Cap. Have you ever seen anything to warrant these sus- 
 picions ? 
 
 Wool I believe you. Ole mas'r was out near dar, hunting, 
 one day, and he say he saw a beautiful fcmale»ghost, aud dat 
 she wanished in a blue flame. And den., one time when I was 
 coming by dar, I looked np, and golly, dar I saw de debbil 
 griunin* at me through the window. 
 • Cap. And did you see nothing else? 
 
 Wool. Golly I Cat was enough for dis chile. Don't cotch 
 him dar no more, I can tell you. 
 
 Mrs. C. They do say there's a beautiful young lady come to 
 live there lately. 
 
 Cap. A young lady ! Then I shall have a neighbor, that's 
 some comfort. 
 
 3Irs. C. Yes! A poor young creature who has lost both 
 fiither and mother. 'Tis a terrible dismal place though. I 
 wouldn't live there for all the vrorld. 
 
 Caj). To-morrow I will ride over to this mysterious house, 
 and pay my devoirs to its new resident. 
 
 Wool. Don't do dat, Miss Catapiller. I's a gone nigger if 
 you do ; for ole mas'r say I must never lose sight of you when 
 yon are out again. 
 
 Cap. I suppose he doesn't want me to know there is such a 
 place as the Hidden House. 
 
 3Irs. C. I don't know. Miss Black ; but the wild stories told 
 of it ought to be sulliclent to keep you away from it. 
 
 Cap. That's the very reason I desire to go. Pshaw! do you 
 think I believe the ridiculous stories about this house being 
 haunted? No, jio; and to-morrow I'll prove the fallacy of 
 your fears. There ; leave now. I'm getting sleepy, and I've 
 got a terrible headache. 
 
 3Irs. C. Then a good night's rest will refresh you. Come 
 along, Wool. Good-night, Miss Black, and pleasant dreams to 
 you. [Exit, R. II. D. 1 E. 
 
 Wool. Good-night, Miss Catapiller. Mind you don't slip de 
 bolt of dat ar old tmp, and tumble into de hole under de rug dar. 
 Yah ! yah ! I rader tink when I get into bed, I shall smudder my-
 
 28 THE HIDDEN IIAIO). [ACT IV. 
 
 self iu dc clothes ; den if any of dc ghosts comes to my bcdsido 
 dey'll li:ib some trouble to get a hold ob dis nigger's ayooI. 
 •Good-uight, Miss Catapilkr; good-night. I's gone. Good 
 night. {After pludcvKj np couraye, exits, u. D. 1 e.) 
 
 Ca;>. Strange! I can't get this story of the Hidden House 
 out of my thoughts. There has been some great wrong done 
 to some oue, I'll be sworn. Well, well, to-morrow I'll ferret 
 it out, or my name's not Capitola. {Sees supper set.) Ah, my 
 little maid Pit-a-pat has not forgotten ray supper to-night; but 
 I'm not hungry ; but, oh dear, how sleepy I am. I'll go to bed; 
 but lirst let me lock the door. 
 (Lurimj this, she has taken off jewelry , and placed it on bureau. — 
 
 — Donald comes from behind curtain oficindoiv, R. n. r., down 
 to R. II. door, 1 E., locks it, takes out key, and stands with back 
 to it, so that as she comes towards it sh^ encounters him. — Music, 
 
 — TAiii.EAU. — She starts back in terror.) 
 Don. You didu't expect mc to-night, did you? 
 
 Cap. {Has been almost paralyzed ; but after a slight pause re- 
 covers, and seems to have made up her mind what course to pur- 
 sue. With forced calmness.) Well, upon my word, I tliink a 
 gentleman might let a lady know when he intends to pay her a 
 visit at midnight. 
 
 JJon. Well, upon my word, you arc cool, hang it! I admire 
 you. {Goes up r.) You seem to have made preparation for a 
 supper. I've a capital appetite. 
 
 Cap. Then sit down and cat. Heaven forbid that I should 
 fail in hospitality. 
 
 Don. {sits and eats r. of table). And arc you rcallj not afraid 
 of me? I might do you some harm. 
 
 Cap. But you won't. 
 
 Don. Why won't I ? 
 
 Cap. Because it won't pay. Afraid of you? not a bit of it,— 
 I rather like you. 
 
 Don. {eatinrj). Come, now,*you're running a rig upon a fellow. 
 
 Cap. No, indeed; don't you remember the day you were 
 here as the pedlar, that I said I liked Black Donald, an:l I 
 wished to see him? 
 
 Dun. So you did; but I also remember that when yoa 
 thou:rht you had me in your power, you leapt upon my shoul- 
 ders like a catamount and called for help to secure mc. You 
 thirst for my blood, and yet you pretend you like me. 
 
 Cap. Lor, don't vou know why I did that? 
 
 Don. Ko. Why? 
 
 Cap. Because I wanted you to carry rao off. 
 
 Don. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, I declare, I never thought of that. 
 Well then, since you like me so well, come and give me a kiss. 
 
 Cap. {shuddering). No, no; I won't; not till you've dono 
 your supper, and washed your beard. 
 
 Don. I sa}', isn't it almost your hour for going to bed? 
 
 Cap, Of course it li.
 
 Scene 3.] the hidden hand. n 29 
 
 Don. TVell, what arc you waiting for? 
 
 Cap. For my coinpauy to go liomc, to be sure. 
 
 Dun. Meaning mo.''' 
 
 Caj?. Meaning you « 
 
 Dun. Oh, don't mind me. 
 
 Cap. I don't. (Aside) My blood is freezing in my veins. 
 Heaven aid mc, or 1 am lost indeed. 
 
 Don. Some brandy, if you please. (Has been imtchinff her, 
 and lioUlinfj vp his (jlass makes this excuse to get her near him. — 
 She comes vp to l. of table ami Jills hiirylass.) I say, I've been 
 watching you, my darling. You'd like to get out oi" this room, 
 wouldn't you? You'd like to hand mc over to the Philistines, 
 I know your tricks; so just stop puzzling your head to baffle 
 mc. You arc like the cagcl bird (rises'and shows ken), you 
 can't get out. (Crosses to l.) 
 
 Cap. (tremblinr/). Have you done your supper? 
 
 Don. Yes, duck. (»b'Ae moves table towards i:. ii. d.) AVhat 
 arc you going to do? 
 
 Cap, Clear away the things, and set the room in order. 
 (Places table n. 3 k. — Takes chairs, and fjoes towards Jireplace. 
 — Aside) The trap I the trap! 
 
 Don. Come, come, haven't you got through yet? 
 
 Cap. (placinr/ chair on trap). In a nioment. Come, come 
 and sit down, Donald. (She takes the other chair, to sit l. of 
 fireplace, icith face to audience. Donald sits with back to d. and 
 feet on fender). Listen to me, Donald: men call you a man of 
 blood; they say your hands are red and your soul black with 
 crime. Black Donald, they call you ; but you have never yet 
 stained your soul with a crime as black as that which you think 
 of perpetrating this night. 
 
 Don. Yaw-aw ! It must be near one o'clock, and I am get- 
 ting sleepy. 
 
 Cap. All your former acts have been tliosc of a bold man, 
 this act would Ijc that of a base one. 
 
 Don. Take care; no bad names. Y^ou are in my power, and 
 at m}'-" mercy. 
 
 Cap. Donald, in all your former acts your antagonists were 
 strong men ; but now it is a feeble girl who is op])osed to j'ou ; 
 to destroy her would be an act of baseness to which you never 
 yet descended. 
 
 Don. Who talks of destruction? I am tired of all this non- 
 sense. I mean to carry you o!f, and there's an end of it. (Bises.) 
 
 Cap. Stop! Sit down and hear me for just live minutes 
 longer. 
 
 Don. Very well. ( Turns chair round, and sits facing audience.') 
 Talk on for a few minutes; but if you think to persundo me to 
 leave this room without you, this night, you are widely out of 
 your reckoning, that's all. 
 
 Cap. Donald, I have jewels here worth several thousand 
 dollars : if you will consent to go I will give them to you, and 
 3*
 
 so THE HIDDEN HANT). [.aJt III. 
 
 never say one word to-morrow of what has passed here to- 
 niirht. 
 
 jDo». WIi}', how green YOU must think me I Wljat's to pre- 
 vent mo from possessing myself of your jewels as well as your- 
 self? (About to rise.) 
 
 Cap. Sit still, the live minutes' grace are not gone yet. 
 
 Don. (Joolcs at clock). So they are not. Well, I will keep 
 my promise. 
 
 Cap. Doii.-ild. give up this heinous purpose. Man, for your 
 own sai\C. give it up. 
 
 L>o}i. Fo7-inysake! Ha I ha! ha! It's for my sake I'm go- 
 ing to cnrry you otf, and make an iionost wife of you. 
 
 Cap. JMau, have you ever reflected on death ! It might come 
 with sudden and overwhelming power, and hnrl yon to de- 
 stmction; yes, this fi'ame of yours, this glorious iiandiwoVk 
 of th'j Crcntor, might be hurled to swift dvstruction, and the 
 sottl that animates it dcstrof/cd without a nmincnt's warning! 
 
 Don. Bosh I If yon really think me such a liandsome man, 
 why don't you go at once and say no more a!)oiit it? 
 
 Cap. Black Donald, will vou leave ray room? 
 
 Don. No! ' • 
 
 Cop. ;Man, I will give you one more chance; pity yourself as 
 I pity you, and leave me. 
 
 Don. Now it's quite likely tliat I will, isn't it? I haven't 
 watched and pUinned for this chance to give it up now that you 
 are in my power; and now, as the five minutes' grace are quite 
 up — {About to rise). 
 
 Cap. Stop I don't move yet ; before you stir, say " Lord, have 
 mercy on me ! " 
 
 Dnn. Why should I say that? 
 
 Cap. Because I do not wish to kill body and soul together; 
 because 1 would not send you praycrless into the presence of 
 your Creator. 
 
 Don. {.starts vp). You have a revolver, then. Move but a 
 step, ami I throw mjself on you like an avalanche. 
 
 Cap. 1 have no weapon, — seel {Holds up both hands). . 
 
 Don. AVliat did you mean, then? 
 
 Cap. I mean that your peril is not to be escaped. Black 
 Donald, you have not a minute to live ! (Music PP tremido.) 
 
 Don. Well this. I suppose, is what people call fine acting; 
 but yen musln't think to frighten me. So come, the grace has 
 expired aiui now give me a kiss. 
 
 Cap. Then let it be the kiss of death; and heaven hare 
 mercy on your soul! {Music, foi'tc. — Doxai.d makes a step 
 ioicdrds her. ~- She places her foot on spring of trap, tohicJi fallSf 
 and he dii^appears xcith a groan.) 
 
 Cap. O God I he is dashed to pieces! (FaZ^s.— Quick ciiktaix.) 
 
 End of Act III.
 
 Scene 1?| the iiiddes illnd. 81 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE 1. — Exterior of the Hidden IToiise, 2 g, cnc* c d-fash' 
 ionod mansion almost buried amontj the trees. — Door, i.. n.^*, 
 
 — ]]'i)idoio above, c, to become transparent. — Li/jhts 1-4 down. 
 
 — Sturm — thunder, rain, and lightning. — Music. 
 
 CapUola (icithont). Whoa, G3'p, my boy! (Storm C07itinues.) 
 
 Enter CAriTOLA, l. 2 e., in riding-habit, and idth tchip. 
 
 Whew ! tlicrc's a flash ! Good gracious ! there's the lioiise ! One 
 would tliink that tliis was an cnclianted forest, containiuii- tho 
 castle of the Sleeping Beauty, and I was tlie kniglit destined to 
 deliver her. (Storm continues. — Vivid lightning.) Conlbund it! 
 I slia!! be drenched to the skin. Here goes for the inside. 
 (Knocks.) No response! All is silent as the grave ! Lord ! sup- 
 pose it sliould be liaunted? Pshaw! gliosts or no ghosts, I'm 
 bound to see the inside. (Knocks. — Chains are In-ard to fall 
 inside. — 77ie door opens, and Doiic.vs Knigut appears at it icich 
 lighted lamp.) 
 
 Vorcas. Who are you? What do j-ou want h.ere? 
 
 Cap. Can't you sec? I'm a young' woman, and want shelter 
 from the storm. 
 
 Dor. Wlien people ask l:ivors, they should do it with a civil 
 tongue in their iieads. 
 
 Cap. Favors! Plague on you, I asked no favors. Every 
 storm-beaten traveller has a right to shelter under the lirst 
 roof that otters. 
 
 Dor. Who arc you? 
 
 Cap. Capitola Black, of ITurricanc ITall. 
 
 Dor. (hastilg). Capitola, did you say ? Capitola? 
 
 Cap. Yes, Capitola, — you never heard anything against it, 
 did you ? 
 
 Dor. What brought yon here? Away! Mount your horse 
 and ily while there is yet time. 
 
 Cap. Not if I know it. Expose myself again to the storm ! 
 
 Dor. Girl! there are worse tlangers in the world than any to 
 be feared from thunder, lightning, rain, or wind. 
 
 Cap. Weil, when I meet them it will be time enough to deal 
 with them. Come, come, let me in; don't 3'ou see I'm nearly 
 drenched to the skin? 
 
 Dor. J t is madness. Yon shall not stay here 
 
 Cup. But I tell you I will! You arc not the bead of tho 
 family. 
 
 Dor. Capitola, how long have you lived at IIurrica.uc Hall? 
 
 Cap. Long enough for everybody to hear of me. 
 
 Dor. Where did you live before you came there? 
 
 Ca2). Where I learned to speak tho truth and shame the 
 #cvil. 
 
 Dor. And to force yourself into people's houses against 
 their will.
 
 32 THE mDDEx ^A^^). [ifcT IV. 
 
 Cap. Wlicn I learn from the head of the lionsc that I'm un- 
 wcicoine, tlicn I Avill retreat. Where is your master? 
 
 Dov. I cannot curse you with the curse of granted prayer. 
 Col. Lc Noir is away. 
 
 (kip. Why do you talk so strangely? 
 
 Dor.. It is my Avhim. Perliaps my head is light. 
 
 Cap. I shouhl tliink it was. Well, as the master is away, 
 present me to the mistress. 
 
 Do)\ There is no mistress here. 
 
 Cap. Well, then, the young lady, — I mean the ward of Col. 
 Le Noir. 
 
 Dor. Well, as you seem resolved to stand j'our ground, I 
 suppose we must put up with you. 
 
 Cap. And my horse. 
 
 Dor. lie shall be taken care of. Come in. But mind, you 
 must depart early in the morning. 
 
 Cap. That's as I please. 
 
 Dor. Perverse to the last. Come in. lExit, d. in P. 
 
 Cap. Hooray! I've stormed the breach. (Sti/rm). There 
 comes the storm again. Now Gyp, stand you there, there 
 (goes ojf L. 2 v..) under the shelter of this tree, until some one 
 comes to care for you. {Storm.) Aiut this a ripper! (Music. 
 — As she Inrns to go into the house, the -upper wiudoiu becomes 
 illuminated with white fire, and the figure of the Unknown 
 appears at it. In her right hand she carries a lamp, and her left 
 hand is enveloped in black, ichich she holds vp imcarning to Cap-^ 
 lTOL\,ioho starts back alnrmed.) IMercifui i)o\ver.s ! What is 
 that? (Figure disappears.) That spectral ligure, with its Hid' 
 den Hand, seems to warn me airainst cjitcring the house. 
 Have, then, the ghostly traditions of this woriil trutli in them 
 at last? Tsluiw! am I to be frightened by this? — never! 
 That poor lady looked more in sorrow than in anger, aiul who 
 knows but ghosts may be hospitable? So in 1 jto. Neck or 
 nothing ! . ^ lExit d. f. 
 
 SCENE 2. —An apartment in the Hidden House, 3 G.—An old- 
 fashioned bed, with tapestr;/ curtains at back, c. — Toilet-table and 
 glass, L. 3 e. — Easy-chair, ii. c— Le Noik is discovered seated. 
 
 Enter Clara Day, l. 1 e. 
 
 Clara. Col. Lc Noir, you wished to sec me. I am here. 
 
 Le Koir. JMiss Day, the responsibility of a guardian is al- 
 ways onerous, and his duties not always agreeable, especially 
 when his wardjs the sole heiress to a large propert}', and the 
 object of pursuit of fortune-hunters and schemers. When 
 such is the case, the responsibilities of the guardian are aug- 
 mented a hundred-fold. 
 
 Cla. Sir, this cannot be so in my case. You have already 
 been advised that I am betrothed to Dr. Kocke, who wiU 
 claim me as his wife upjn the day I shall complete my Lweuty- 
 ^rst year.
 
 Scene 2.] ttm hidden haitd. 83 
 
 Le K. No more of that! It is my duty to prevent you from . 
 throwing yourself away upon a mere adventurer. To do this 
 I must provide you with a suitable husband. My son, Craven 
 Le Xoir, has long loved and wooed you. I approve of his snit, 
 and, as your guardian, command you to receive him as your 
 destined' husband. 
 
 Cla. Col. Le Noir, I am but a simple girl; but I understand 
 your purpose. You are tlio fortuue-hunters, — the schemers; 
 Hut I will die ere I will wed with Craven Le Noir. (Crosses 
 toe.) 
 
 Le K. Die ! Girl, there arc worse things than death in this 
 ?vorld. 
 
 Cla. I know it ! But few things can be worse than a union 
 with a man I can neither esteem nor endure. 
 
 Le N. But there are evils, to escape which, a woman 
 would go down on her bended knees to be made the wife of 
 .mch a man. 
 
 Cla. Infimons ! You slander all womanhood In my person 
 * Le X. The evils to which I allude are a life of dishonor. 
 
 Cla. This to me, sir? 
 
 Le N. Ay ! Girl, it is time we understand each other. You 
 are in my power, and I intend to coerce you to my will. I am 
 going now to prepare the marriage license. I shall return by 
 ten to-morrow. I desire that you be ready to accompany us. 
 If you would save your honor, look to it. Let no hope of es- 
 cape dclndc you. The servants are in my pay. Look to it, 
 Clara; for the setting of another sun shall, see my purpose ac-/ 
 complishcd. ' lExit, l. 1 e. 
 
 Cla. Heaven help me ! What fate is in store for me? Was 
 It for this, then, that they forced me to leave my quiet home? 
 It was for this, then, he insisted on-his legal rights as my guar- 
 disu. O my poor father, little didst thou know the villain 
 thou hadst to deal with! 
 
 Enter Dorcas Knight, l. 1 e. 
 
 Dorcas. Here is a young lady from Ilumcane Hall come to 
 f«.^ you, Miss Day. 
 
 cla. Ileavcu has hoard my prayer ! Let her come in. 
 
 Enter C-ititola, l. 1 e. 
 
 Cay. Ju.-'t w>at. I ir tended ; (ci'osses c.) though I must say you 
 have \hx> r:>05t disa<i:recable servants I ever met with. ( To Cla.) : 
 
 Dor. i^oolish gin ! i wai'ned you for the best. Have you 
 Dofea'i' 
 
 Cap. N9\si Irarurd the :^carln.<^of the Tro?d. There, now, 
 make yourself scarce; I want to talk to the yorn3 lady. 
 
 Dor. AVeU, wcL ! You'lx h70 lon« enough to repent tlris. 
 
 " [Exa L A B. 
 
 Cap. I shall Hvj nv iry time ".cm^s, ol ^ r-onan. ( To Clj^^Ml ) 
 But really I fear this is an iuirusion ^u my part.
 
 Bi THE HIDDEN HAND. [ACT IV. 
 
 Cla. You arc welcome. You've been exposed to tlio storm ? 
 
 Cap. Uathew I am Capitola Bhick. I live with m}' uncle, 
 flt Ilnrricane Hall, a tiery old chap, who, I dare say, about this 
 time is raving about his house, simply because, — having heard 
 a beautiful young lady had become a resident of this house, — 
 contrary to his wishes, I have ridden over to see her. But I 
 don't cure a fig for him. If he's master, I'm mistress. 
 
 Cla. Ah ! You must be very happy. 
 
 Cap. Lord bless you, why shouldn't I be? I do what I 
 olease. It's true my old governor and I have a sharp fight 
 now and then; but I always get the best of it. But, bless my 
 heart, what's the matter, — you are ill! Can I be of any ser- 
 vice to j'ou? 
 
 Cla. Oh, indeed you can aid me. Heaven has surely sent 
 you in this, my hour of need. 
 
 Cap. Tell me how and what I can do for you. 
 
 Cla. Listen, then. My name is Clara Day. My father died 
 within the past month, and unfortunately appointed Col. Le 
 Noir his executor and my guardian, — a bold, bad man, who, 
 in order to possess himself of my property, wishes to force me 
 into a marriage with his son. Craven Le Noir. For this pur- 
 pose, he compelled me to remove to this Hidden House, — has 
 deprived me of my friends in order the better to carry out his 
 foul designs. 
 
 Cap. Well, don't you love the fellow? 
 
 Cla. Love him? Oh, no! My heart and hand was long sincb 
 given to another. 
 
 Cap. And that other is — 
 
 Cla. One Dr. Traverse Rocke, a man who is the soul of 
 honor. And now, by threatening me with a fate worse than 
 death. Col. Le Noir woultl force me to marry this Craven Lo 
 Noir. 
 
 Cap. They would, eh? Then, my dear, I only wish I was in 
 your place. I'd marry Mr. Craven Le Noir, just on purpose to 
 make him know the dificrence between their sovereign lady 
 and Sam the lackey. But as it isn't me, the first thing that 
 suggests itself for you to do is to run away. 
 
 Cla. That is impossible. The servants are warned, the 
 doors kept fast locked, and I am closely watched. 
 
 Cap. There is only one plan of escape left then, and that is 
 full of danger. 
 
 Cla. "Why should I fear danger? What evil can befall me so 
 groat as that which now threatens me? Teach me, dear Cap- 
 itola; I will'be an apt pupil. 
 
 Cap. First, you must change clothes with me, pull my veil. 
 do^vn closely, and walk boldly out of the house. My servant, 
 Wool, is waiting for me, no doubt, at a respectful distance. 
 You can mount my horse, ride to your friends, and get them to 
 prosecute your guardian lor cruelly and abuse of authority. 
 
 Cla. But you ! You will remain in the power of those who 
 know neither justice nor mercy.
 
 Scene 2.] tiie hidden hand. SA 
 
 Cap. Oil, never mind mc. Bless their wigs, I should like to 
 see 'era make mc blaucli ! How I shall enjoy tbeir disappoint- 
 ment! Oh, won't it be fan! 
 
 Cla. Heaven bless 3'ou, dear Cap'itola. 
 
 Cap. Don't thank me. It's I that should thank you, for af- 
 fording mc such a fine opportunity for a frolic. Bat come ; you'll 
 excuse me, for I'm fagged out, and these clothes are none of 
 the drycst ; the sooner I change them the better for my consti- 
 tution. 
 
 Cla. Oh, pardon me ! In the contemplation of my own sor- 
 rows, I forgot you had been exposed to the storm so long. 
 In yonder closet a'ou will find clothes of mine. They are sure 
 to fit you. 
 
 Cap. Oh, never fear mo. I can accommodate my figure to 
 anytliing. It won't be the first time that I've worn clothes 
 that didn't belong to me. 
 
 Cla. I will leave you now. (Crosses to l.) You must want 
 rest, also. I shall sleep in the room below this. Shoald you 
 need anything, rap on the floor : I shall hear you. 
 
 Cap. Little fear of my disturbing you. I sleep like a top, I 
 can tell yon. I'll just take a snooze for a couple of hours or 
 so, tlicn come to your room, get you outside of the house, then 
 return, to finish my nap before breakfast. 
 
 Cla. Heaven bless you, Capitola ! An orphan's prayers be 
 with you ever. (They embrace. — Music.) \_ExU Claua, l. 1 e. 
 
 Cap. Now, I -wonder what my old governor is about now, 
 I'll wager a sixpence there won't be much peace at the Hall to- 
 night. Well, it can't be helped. I forgot to say a word to 
 Clara about the poor creature I saw at the window. (Yaions.) 
 Now, if this house should be haunted, and that should be one 
 of the citizens of the other world. (Yawns.) Well, I'm not 
 going to be frightened oat of my sleep, ghost or no ghost ; and 
 as that old bed looks very inviting, here goes. Sits on bed,— 
 yawns.) Clara's oft'! What'U they (yawns) do to me? Hal 
 ha! ha! Won't there be fun ! I'll show 'em — (yawns) tricks 
 { — (yawns) learnt in Rag Alley. (Taivns, lies doion, and sleeps. 
 — Music. — Curtain at hack becomes transparent. — The Un- 
 i'nown, clad in ichite, imth lamp in her hand is seen through. — 
 She advances close to bed, raises her hand over C.vtitola ; then 
 disappears and returns on stage, through l. d. f. — She ad- 
 mnccs slowly to toilet-table ; places lamp upon it; sees ring ; takes 
 it up, kisses it afeclionately, and places it in her bosom; then 
 goes slowly to the bedy and bends over CAriTOLA.) 
 
 Enter Le Noir, l. 1 E., followed by Dorcas. — He starts on seeing 
 the Unknown. 
 
 leN. (aside to Dorcas). Curses on it, she will discover all. 
 (Music. — Takes off his cloak, and xcith Dorcas advances catt- 
 fioM.j'?/ to the bed. — Throws his cloak over the Unknown, to drown 
 her streams, and bears her off, struggling and screaming, l. 1 e.)
 
 36 TUE niDDiir hand. [Act IV. 
 
 Cap. {lifter they are of loUh Uxitn-own, l. 1 e., tcaJces, startt 
 tip). Eli,"whar, — save iier! — save her! — ha! ha! ha! Lord, 
 twas only a dream; but, oh, real it seemed to me! (Scream 
 L. II.) What was that? -reality, — then it was no dream. 
 (Scream heard.) There, again! Some deviltry is afoot; let 
 me at ouce to Clara and learn the truth. [Exit, hurriedlij, l. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE 3. — Exterior of the Hidden House 2 G., as before. Stage 
 
 (lark. — Door is opened cautiously, and Chssxx, dressed in Capi 
 
 tola's habit, and carrying a riding-whip, enters from house. 
 
 Music, pp. 
 
 Cla. Thank Heaven I am without the walls of this hated 
 
 mansion ! Oh, may Heaven bless and reward my heroic Capi- 
 
 tola ! Now for the servant Wool. Should he have quitted his 
 
 post, — but, no, he dare not lose sight of her. Hist ! hist ! hist ! 
 
 Enter Wool, quicJdy, l. 2 e. 
 
 Wool. I'se on hand. Miss Catapiller; j'ou needn't tink dis 
 chile's goin to get his eyelids skinned by losing sight of you. 
 
 Cla, {in a subdued voice). Where's the pony, Wool? 
 
 Wool. Down behind de trees, dar. Oh, you does right to 
 keep your face kivered; it's awfnl windy ; I can scarcely keep 
 de hair on my head. (Clara crosses to l.) Which way is you 
 going now, Miss Catapiller? 
 
 Cla. Towards Tip-Top. 
 
 Wool. What de mischief is you gwau dar for? (Clara raises , 
 whip to him.) Dar, dar, I'se done; I won't ax you any more 
 questions, not if 3'ou ride to old Nick, or Black Donald, cither. 
 
 Cla. Now, Wool, remain you here on the watch. Do not 
 follow me. 
 
 Wool. What, and get my eyelids skinned? Oh, de Lord, dis 
 gal's determined to be the death ob me ! I know it just as well 
 as nuffin at all. I 'clar to man if it aint nuff to make a nigger 
 go heave himself into a grist-mill, and be ground up at ouce. 
 
 Cla. {as.<i7iming her own voice). Wool, Wool, ride back to 
 Hurricane Hall and tell Major Warfield that Miss Black remains 
 at the Hidden House, in great danger. Haste ! haste ! Good- 
 by, and God speed you ! {Hurnes out, l. 2 E. Wool stands' 
 horrified till she's off, then hurries out). 
 
 Wool. Dis nigger's dead and buried. Young missus changed 
 from a catapiller to a butterfly. Hallo ! — murder ! — help ! -^ 
 stop de coach ! — stop do bosses ! — ole massa'U kill me if J lose 
 sight of her! Stop her! — stop de debil dat's transinogrifled 
 h^. [Exit after her, crying murder, &c. 
 
 SCENE 4. —Interior of Eural Chapel. — Small altar, c. — Or* 
 gan music. — A minister discovered, c. — Col. Le Noir on l. 
 — A small number of spectators, v.. and l. 
 
 Lt Notr I told you, sir, as our bride was an orphan, recently
 
 Scene 4.] the hidS en uaitd. S? 
 
 bcreayed, and still in deep raoarnins, we wished the marriage 
 ceremony to be strictly private; yet here I find a score of peo- 
 ple. How is this? ^, 
 
 rriest. Sir, these people arc farm-laborers. They can cer- 
 tainly be no interruption to the ceremony. 
 Enter Cn^VE^ Le Nom, R. 1 e., conductinrj CAriTOLA, icJio is 
 dressed in Clara's dress of Scene 2. — She is veiled. — Craven 
 crosses to L. c. 
 Speak, Craven Lc Noir ! TVilt thou have this woman to be thj 
 wedded wife as long as thou both shalt live? 
 
 Craven. I ^-v WW , , , ^, . r ^^\.^ 
 
 rriest. And thou, Clara Day, wilt thou have this man for thy 
 wedded husband? 
 
 Cap- Not if I know it. 
 
 Le N. What does this mean? Who nre you, girl? 
 Cap. (throics off veil). Capitola Black, your honor's glory! 
 (Courtesies). . « „ ^, . .> 
 
 Crav. What the foul fiend is the meaning of all this? 
 Cap. (pultinrj thumb to nose). It means that you can't como 
 if it's no go; this chicken won't light; (imts both hands to 
 nose) the fat's in the lire; the cat's out of the bag; the plays 
 over ; the curtain's going to drop : and the principal pertormer, 
 that's me, is about to be called out, amid the applause of the 
 audience. 
 
 Crav. S'death ! We are foiled ! „ , , 
 
 Cao. A precious pair of knaves you'd be, if you had sense 
 enough; but, failing in that, you're only a pair of fools. Good 
 people, (to spectators) I claim your protection, while I teh you 
 the cause of mv presence here. 
 Le N. Don't listen to her. She's a maniac. 
 Cmv. Stop her mouth at once. {They both seize her. — She 
 screams for help. — They endeavor to droicn her voice by holding 
 her mouth. — At this moment Ukrbkut, followed by W' ool, enters 
 rapidly, l. u. e. — Throws Col. Li: Noiu to l., and Wool throws 
 ■CnwKV to R., who starts back to hit AVool, icho butts hnn tdl 
 curtain doim. Cavitola throics her arms around IIeiujert. 
 Picture. — Quick curtain), 
 
 Ent) op Act IV. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 SCE:NE 1. — J/msjc, *^ Little More Cider." — riantation at Hurri- 
 cane HalU (IS before, except that the fountain is moved up to Ihinl 
 e., and trough from R. 2 e. removed. 
 Enter Hurricane and Mrs. Condbient /rom 'touse, r. 
 4 
 
 449i:^i>
 
 88 THE HIDDEN nAND. [ACT V. 
 
 Hurricane. I tell yon, Mrs. Condiment, something must bo 
 done, or this girl will be the death of me. If she were a boy, 
 I'd thrash her; but what can I do with a girl? 
 
 Mrs. Condiment. Lock her up in her chamber till she'a 
 brought to reason. 
 
 Hur. Dcmme, she'd jump out of the window and break her 
 neck. Besides, she's such a way, and dlsobe)''s me in such a 
 cajoling way, that I couldn't give her pain if her soul depended 
 upon it. 
 
 3Irs. C. You should try moral suasion. 
 
 JIar. When I do she laughs in my face. I wish to keep her 
 until she is of legal age, and I don't want her to fall into the 
 hands of a perfidious guardian until I can bring proof of his 
 rascality. 
 
 Mrs. C. Then this girl has received foul play from her friends. 
 
 Hur. I should think so. Gabriel Lc Xoir has very nearly put 
 his neck into a halter. Listen, Mrs. Condiment. Sixteen years 
 ago the Hidden House was occupied by old Victor Le Xoir, 
 who, dying, bequeathed to his eldest son, Eugene, the whole of 
 his property, with this proviso: that should Eugene die with- 
 out issue, the property should descend to his younger son, Ga- 
 briel Le Noir. 
 
 Mrs. C. An equitable will. 
 
 Hur. Eugene shortly afterwards presented to his neighbors 
 a young and lovely creature as Madame Eugene Le Noir. Poor 
 Eugene! He did not long enjoy her, for one morning he was 
 found murdered in the woods near his own house. 
 
 Mrs. C. And the murderer? 
 
 Hur. Was never discovered. Madam was never seen abroad 
 after her husband's death. It was reported she had lost her 
 reason. However, Eugene having died without issue, Gabriel 
 stepped at once into possession of the whole estate. 
 
 3Irs. C. Yes, something of this I have heard. 
 
 Hur. Very likely; but what you have not heard is that three 
 months after the death of her husband Madame Eugene gave 
 birth to twins, one living, the other dead. The dead child was 
 privately buried ; the living one, together with the uurse, the 
 sole witness of its birth, was abducted. 
 
 Mrs. C. Great heavens ! Can this be true? 
 
 Hur. True as gospel. You remember the night I was 
 dragged out of my bed to see old Nancy Grewell? 
 
 Mrs. C. I do, indeed. 
 
 Hur. From her I received the information which induced mo 
 to visit New York. She was the nurse; and the child, the 
 heiress to this great estate, is none other than Capitola. 
 
 Mrs. C. Capitola! Good gracious ! 
 
 Hur. Now, you see my ol)ject in endeavoring to keep her 
 witliin bounds, or this atrocious scoundrel will contrive some 
 plan to make away with her, in order that he may retain the 
 estate.
 
 SCBirE J.] THE HIDPEN IIAN1>. 39 
 
 Mrs C This accounts, then, for Black Donald's Tisit here. 
 Ilur It does. But tlicre is some satisfaction in knowing 
 that the rascal didn't break his neck in falling through the trap, 
 lescrving it for the hangman. His execution is to take place 
 to-morrow 
 
 Enter CAriTOLA, l. u. e. 
 You — vou— you New Yorkboy! —you foundling!— you vag- 
 abond! -you brat! -you beggar! -will you never have 
 sense, or will you keep continually running your head into 
 daii""cr' , 
 
 Ccm. Why, nunkey, that's nothing new. I'm only doing 
 what you've done a hundred times; but come, now, I've got 
 sometl-.ing to propose to you. I can't bear the tjionglit of be- 
 iuo- the cause of that poor fellow. Black Donald's, death; that 
 I was the means of hurrying him to such a fate. 
 
 mr Ah! that reminds me that the reward offered for Ins 
 apprehension was paid over to me. I have placed it to your 
 account in bank. , .,, j.-, ■ ^ ^f 
 
 Car). I don't want it! I won't touch it! -the price of 
 blood ! - it would burn my fingers ! Uncle, it must be dread- 
 ful, this hanging, and I declare I won't have it. 1 11 write a 
 petition to the governor, and go round to get the signatures 
 myself. . 
 
 JIur. You won't get a soul to sign it. 
 
 CoiJ. Well, then, I'll go to the governor, and ask him to 
 pardon Black Donald. 
 
 Ilur. The Governor won't do it to save all our lives ; and if 
 he did, he might whistle for his re-election. 
 Cap. And yet, I declare this man shall not die. 
 Hur. Phew! there is a Don Quixote, ha! ha! ha! Shell 
 delTver him by the strength of her own arm. Come along, 
 Mrs. Condiment, and harkce, you baggage you. If you go on m 
 this manner youUl break your old uncle's heart. It you were a 
 bov I'd thrash you within an inch of your life; but as you are 
 a girl, I love you so well that if harm should come to you the 
 old man would sink into his grave with a broken heart. So 
 think of that, you outlaw!— you imp of inischicl! — you — 
 vou — Demme, I don't know what to call you ! 
 • ^ {Exit into hoitse, ii. ii., icith Mns. Coxddient. 
 
 Cap. But still he said Black Donald should be hung. I was 
 th'^ cause of his being arrested, and I've the best right to save 
 him if I can. 
 
 Enter Wool, l. n. e. 
 
 Wool Miss Catapiller, here's a letter for you. 
 
 ' Cap. A letter for me? (Takes and opens it.) Why, I declare. 
 
 It's from Cousin Stone. {Ikads) ''My dear cousin, — 1 must icarn 
 
 you of a man calling himself Craven Lc Xoir. At a party, the 
 
 other night, he mentioned your name diparayinghj. Knowing you
 
 40 THE HIDDEN HA^^>. [Act \. 
 
 to he as innocent as a lamb of the charges he made against yon, 1 
 took the liberty of giving him a sound thrashing ; for \chich he has 
 politely challenged me to meet him, in order that he may have a 
 shot at me, Now, as lam not a duelling man, I shall decline the 
 invitation, hut shall take advantage tf the next time I meet hird to 
 repeat the chastisement I have already given him. Tours, in haste, 
 C. Stone." So, so, — Craven by name, Craven by nature. He 
 shall bite the dust for this. Wool, can you shoot? 
 
 Wool. I radcr tiuk not. Miss Catapiller. I tried it oncck Shot 
 at a crow and killed a boss. 
 
 Cap. Where are my uncle's pistols? 
 
 Wool. Golly! what you gwan to do wid 'em? You aint 
 gwan to shoot ole massa, is you ? 
 
 Cap. I'll teach this wretch, that, girl though I am, he has 
 woke up the wrong passenger; but first I'll see poor Donald 
 Wool, saddle my pouy, Gyp, at once, and hark ye, if you dare 
 to say one word to any person about it, I'll have your skin 
 taken ofi' and made into cowhides to lash you through the 
 world for the rest of your days. [Exit, l. 
 
 Wool. Golly ! I'se sartin dey'll be de death of me. How dis 
 nigger would look wid a cowhide made out ob his own skin 
 ruuuing arter him through the world. Wool ! Wool ! you is iu 
 for it. Golly! how savage she look! Yah! yah! 'minds me 
 of ole mas'r when he shied de curricomb at my head toderday. 
 O Wool! Wool! you is a gone nigger for sartin. Yes, I 
 believe you. lExit, l. 1. e. 
 
 SCENE 2. — Music, ''Massa in the Cold, Cold Ground." — In- 
 terior of cell. — Black Donald, heavily manacled, totters on l. 
 1 E. — He is much emaciated and scarcely able to drag himself 
 along. • 
 
 Donald. Curses on them all ! Y''et, why should I curse her,— 
 that girl? Did she not act boldly and bravely? She did ! she 
 did ! And I love her for it, though little did I suspect her on 
 that fatal night, when she plunged me through the trap, crush- 
 ing and breaking all my bones. But, thanks to a stout heart 
 and a strong constitution, I have recovered, and to-morrow,— 
 pah! I must not think of to-morrow; though the crowd shall 
 find that if Black Donald has lived a bad man, he can die a 
 brave one ! 
 
 Enter Catitola. (During speech she wears hood and cloak.) 
 
 Cap. Donald Baync ! 
 
 Don. You here! I'm glad you've come, my little one. I 
 wanted to tell you that I was never guilty of murder, and I only 
 consented to your death to save 3'our life. Do you believe mc? 
 On the word of a dying man, I speak the truth. 
 
 Cap. I do believe you. 
 
 Don. God bless you, little one I
 
 Scene 2.] the hidden hand. 41 
 
 Cap. Can you say God bless mc, Tvbcn it was I who put you 
 here? 
 
 Don. Tut, tut, child ! The outlaw bears no malice. Spite 
 is a civilized vice. It was a fair contest, and you conquered. 
 
 Cap. Donald, I have done everything tliat I could to save 
 your life ; I have tried all other means iu vain ; there is but one 
 left. 
 
 Don. (Qmcl-Ji/). Is there one? 
 
 Cap. Tiiere is. Use well the life I'm about to give you, else 
 I shall be chargeable with every future sin you commit. 
 
 Don. In the name of mercy, girl, do not hold out a false 
 hope. I had nerved myself to die. 
 
 Cap. But yon were not prepared to meet your Creator. Lis- 
 ten, Donald, here are tools, with the use of which you must be 
 acquainted. They were found in the woods near the Hiddeo 
 House. (Gives bag.) Will they do? 
 
 Don. {opens it). Yes, yes ! With these I can file off my irons, 
 pick every lock, and dislodge every bar betweeu me and free- 
 dom. But there is one thing you have forgotten, girl. Sup- 
 pose a turnkey or a guard should stop me? You have brought 
 me no revolver I 
 
 Cap. Not to save you from death would I have done so. I 
 give you the means of freeing yourself, but it must be done 
 without the shedding of blood ! 
 
 Don. You are riglit, girl ! you are right! 
 
 Cap. Here are a thousand dollars, and when you have picked 
 vour way out of this go to the old mill; you will there find my 
 horse. Gyp. Mount and ride for your life to tlie nearest sea- 
 port ; from thence you can escape on ship-board to some for- 
 eign country. 
 
 Don. God bless you, brave girl ; and may Heaven forsake me 
 if I do not heed your advice ! 
 
 Cap. I'll conceal your tools and your money. The guard is 
 at the door. I leave you, — good-by, — and again I say, 
 " Heaven redeem you, Donald Baync ! " {Exit l. u. e.) 
 
 Don. I don't know how it is ; but that girl has raised a feel- 
 ing in my heart that tells mc I am human yet. Good girl ! Just 
 at this time, too, when I had given up all hope. Witli these 
 files and picks I can free myself from this accursed hole. I 
 long for the free air again; and, once beyond these walls, Cap- 
 Itola, thou Shalt find that Donald Bayne will redeem himself. 
 The poor outlaw shall yet live to walk erect in the proud con- 
 sciousness of being a repentant and an honest man. {MusiCy 
 ** Life on the Ocean Wave:') [Exit ii. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE LAST. — T/iC roadside. — A portion of plantation 
 seen. — A finger post with sign, " To Tip-Top,'* u. e. l. 
 
 Enter Craven -Le Noir, l. u. e. 
 Craven. Tnily t^n exciting adventure. The idea of a elrl
 
 IS * THE HIDDEN HAND. [Acr V. 
 
 challenn^In^ a gentleman ! Why, the world's becoming so com* 
 plctely changed that I shouldn't wonder if the Avomeii usurped 
 our positions in it. Now it is possible this Capitola, whom I 
 candidly confess I love for her money, may accept the terms I 
 ofi'ered as the condition of my meeting her. If so, my fatlier's 
 hopes will be fulfilled. If uot; why, Craven, my boy, you'll 
 have to. look elsewhere for something to carry you safely 
 tbrougli this vale of tears. 
 
 Enter CAriTOLVj hastily. — Slie hrings two revolvers. 
 
 Cap. Mr. Le Noir, — 
 
 Cra. Yonr most obedient, Miss Black. 
 
 Cap. I liappen to be withont father or brother to protect 
 me from aflVont; I'm therefore under the novel necessity of 
 fighting my own battles. I sent yon a note, demanding satis- 
 fjiction for the slander you circulated against me. Your reply 
 added insult to injur}'. You do not escape punishment so. 
 There arc two pistols, — both are loaded, — take either one you 
 choose. We have met, aud we do uot part until one of us 
 falls I 
 
 Cra. Miss Black; as the challenged party, I have the choice 
 of arms, time, and place. I made that choice in my note to 
 you. When you accede to the terms of the meeting, I shaU 
 endeavor to give you all the satisfaction yon demand. 
 
 Cap. AVhat! That base insult again? {Throws pistol down) 
 Take up that weapon and defend yourself! 
 
 Cra. I most respectfully decline. Miss Black. You arc cer- 
 tainly a most charming young lady; but — 
 
 Cap. Mr. Le Noir, I give you one minute to decide. 
 
 Cra. I have already decided. (Capitola fires rapidly the six 
 barrels at him. — He falls.) 
 
 Enter IIutjiicaxe, ^Ins. CoxDniExr, and Wool, r. u. e.— 
 Wool catches Crwe^. 
 
 ITitr. What the devil does all this mean? 
 
 Cap. Ouly that I've been chastising a craven that insulted 
 me. 
 
 Uar. Demmc ! You New York newsboy ! Will you never bo 
 a woman ? Why didn't you tell me ? I'd have cailcd him out, 
 and thrashed him to his heart's content ! 
 
 Cra. Stay! Let me speak. Let uo harm come to Miss 
 Black on my account. Life is ebbing fast. I acknowledge the 
 great wrong I have done her. I slandered her in revenge for 
 her rejection of my suit. Let me die at peace with all. 
 
 Cap. (crosses to'c.) Don't die yet. You've all heard Mr. 
 Le Noir's dying speech and confession. Now be sure you're 
 right, — th'jn go ahead. Is there no one here cool enough to 
 rerici;'. ti.at if 1 fired six bullets at that man's forehead I should 
 have blown his head into pie? 
 
 Jliir. What do iou meau? Answer me ! you wild, infatuated 
 rowdy, you !
 
 Scenes.] the hidden h.vnd. 43 
 
 Cap. Why, you sec, I'd made up my mind to teach Lc Koir 
 a lesson, and not ivisiiin;? to add more to my catalogue of sins, 
 I withdrew the bullets from the pistols, and in their place sub- 
 stituted — 
 
 JIur. Wtat? 
 
 C'«j). Bi-ied peas! Ha! lia! Iia! {^All hurst out laugiimfj . — 
 Craven v:alks np and down enrarjed.)- 
 
 Cra. Laughcdat and mocked by her! O fool! But I'll be 
 revenged on her yet. Major Warfleld, I — 
 
 Ilur. Dried peas! Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Cra. Miss Bhick, I — 
 
 Cap. How did you like the dried peas? Ha! ha! 
 
 Cra. I shall choke with rage. I — I (^Encounters Wool, 
 T ^ 2 E.^j 
 
 Wool. Dried peas! Yah, yah! {Cr.KWE:s pushes him aside and 
 exits, L. 1 E.) ^„ . , 
 
 Wool. I believe vou. lExit, L. 1 E. 
 
 Hur. Wliy the devil didn't you pepper him with something 
 sharper tlian dried peas? 
 
 Cap. Couldn't come it, nunkey. Hadn't the least idea of 
 getting scraijgcd on his account. 
 
 Hnr. Scragged! You slang-bird! Ill — I'll — I'll have you 
 married at once; for, deramc, I can make nothing out of you. 
 You shall marry Herbert as soon as he returns. 
 
 Cap. You give your consent, eh, uncle? 
 
 Hur. Of course I do. Though I suppose you'd marry with- 
 out it, if I didn't. 
 
 Enter Herbert, l. u. e. 
 
 Cap. O Herbert, I'm so glad you've come. 
 
 Herbert. Capitola, I bring you joyful news. Black Donald 
 has escaped. " 
 
 Cap. {aside) . Thank Heaven ! But poor Gyp, — I shall never 
 see him again. 
 
 Enter Wool, l. u. e. 
 
 Wool. O massa major, I'se just been down to de stable, and 
 golly, Fleetfoot done and gone. 
 
 Hur. What! my best horse missing? 
 
 Wool. I believe you. But Gyp was in his stall, and around 
 his neck was dis bag of money and dis ere paper. 
 
 Hur. (takes and reads). " Three hundred dollars, to pay for 
 Fleetfoot'. Black Donald, reformed robber,'* 
 
 Cap. Brave heart ! 
 
 Hur. Then the devil-dash the robber has escaped; but I'll 
 not get in a rage to-day about it. Herbert, my boy, I received 
 your letter, with the proofs you had obtained of my poor wife's 
 innocence. I have already sent for her and my son. 
 
 Her. (crosses to him). Yes, sir, and here is the written confes- 
 sion of Col. Le Noir, whom I left on his death-bed, in which
 
 14 THE HIDDEN ^A^^>. [Acr V. 
 
 he says lie sonprht to win the affections of Marah Eocke, but 
 that she repulsed and avoided him. {Crosses l.) 
 
 Hur. My poor wire. 
 
 Her. TIku lie bribed her maid to admit him to her^charaber, 
 on the niijlit thit you found him there ; and that iu .hatred and 
 shame he Ibrebore till now to make this confession. 
 
 Cap. Oh I you terrible old man, was this what you meant, 
 ■vrhon you thrcateuod to put somebody over my head? 
 
 Iliir. No. no, Capitola, though to keep you in order I'll do 
 so now, — better hue than never. 
 
 Her. There is still more in the confession, which concerns 
 you Capitola. 
 
 Cap. Concerns me! I must be getting some importance in 
 the play. 
 
 Her. He confesses to the deception, wrongs, and persecu- 
 tions practised upon Madame Eugene Le Koir, your mother. 
 
 Cap. My mother! 
 
 Her. That he caused h^r to be confined in the Hidden House, 
 and circulated the report of her death. Grief for the loss of 
 hiT husband and child almost bereft her of reason. She was 
 permitted to wander about the house at will, in order that her 
 mysterious appearance might corroborate the suspicions that 
 the house was haunted. On the night that you slept there she 
 wandered to ycur chamber, when Le Noir, fearing that all 
 would bo discovered, caused her to be conliued in a private 
 mad-house. 
 
 Cap. And does she still live? 
 
 Her. She does. 
 
 Cap. O crickey ! how happy I feel to think I have a mother. 
 
 Her. Means have already been taken for her release. In a 
 few days she will be here to join us. But see, uncle, here is 
 Traverse and your wife ! 
 
 Enter Tr-vverse, ^Iarau Rocke, and Clara Day, l. 1 E. 
 
 Hur. Marah! 
 
 Mar. Husband! (Crosses anc2 throics herself into his arms. 
 Traverse r/ets on r.) 
 
 7"rav. Father! 
 
 Hnr. Sou! 
 
 Cap. There's a splendid tableau; who's going to embrace 
 rae? 
 
 Wool, {down L.) I'se on hand, Miss Catapiller. (Her. dnves 
 him vp.) 
 
 Hur. Marah, can you forgive me? 
 
 Mar. Ay, and forget, too. For years in silence I have 
 waited for this day ! "Heaven has smiled upon me, and I am 
 happy. 
 
 Cap. I say, uncle, Herbert wants to follow your example, 
 and — and — 
 
 Hur. Get married, eh ! "Why, he's a boy of twenty-five, and 
 a fool to take a wife at his asa.
 
 Scene 3.] tiie hidden hand. 45 
 
 Cap. Not worse than taking a wife at your age, — an infant 
 of sixty-six. 
 
 JIur. Bother! Well, you're both of age, do as yon please. 
 
 Cap. Just what wa intend to. {Goes to lIi:ni5i:iiT). 
 
 Uar, Traverse, my boy, you love Miss Day, take her and bo 
 happy, both. {Joins their hands.) And now, you vagabond, 
 you biat, you vagrant, you beggar, you are the sole heiress of 
 the Hidden House estate, and all its enormous Avcalth. 
 
 Caj:). Nunkey, don't mock me. I don't care for wealth or 
 pnwer; but tell me if the parents possessing both cast their 
 child to meet the perils and sufferings of such a life as mine? 
 
 ILir. "We have all been the victims of one villain, — Gabriel 
 Le Noir, — to morrow Herbert will tell yon all, to-day we'll 
 devote to pleasure. We'll have a triple wedding, and, demme, 
 all get married together. 
 
 Wool, {down L.) Hold on massa, here's Tit-a-pat here. (She 
 enters, l. u. e.) She is dying for a husband, and if you've no 
 objections I'll take her, and make a quartette of it. 
 
 Her. AVhat, Wool, you want to get married? 
 
 Wool. Yes, I believe you. 
 
 Caji. Then our play is ended. Miss Day, you have got the 
 .man of your choice. Uncle, I congratulate you on your recon- 
 ciliation to yours, for now I shall have less i'ear to soothe, and 
 make a respectable old man of you. For myself, Herbert, if 
 you love me, there's my hand, and under yoiir manl>j protection 
 may I never have cause to regret the step that I have talceu, oi 
 wish for the days to return when I wore the habits of the — 
 "Poor Newsboy." {Music). 
 
 CUBTAIN ON PiCTUEB.
 
 SOUTHWORTH, Emma (Dorotliv Eliza Ne- 
 vitte). novelist, was boru Dec. 26, 1819 in Washing- 
 ton, D.C., where she received an excellent education. 
 An early marriage with Frederick 8outhworth 
 resulted \infortunately, and slie was compelled to 
 become a teacher in the public schools of Washing- 
 ton in order to support herself and an infant boy 
 and iiirl. She commenced her caieer as an author 
 by wl-iting short stories for tlie Baltimore " Visitor." 
 Her first serial story, " Retribution," was published 
 in the " National Era" of Washington in 1847. It 
 was afterwards republished in book form and 
 attracted much attention. Henry Peterson, pub- 
 lisher of the Philadelphia "Saturday Evening 
 Post," then the leading story paper of the country, 
 was impressed by her^growing power and invited 
 her to become a contributor to his columns. She 
 accepted his invitaiion, and for several years con- 
 tributed to the "Post" serial stories which Mr. 
 Peterson afterward reprinted in book form. When 
 Robert Bonner purchased the New York " Ledger" 
 he secured her exclusive services as a contributor to 
 that journal, and this arrangement continued for 
 more than thirty years. From 1857 to 18G0 she 
 resided in England. For many years she was a resi- 
 dent of Georgetown, D. C, but 
 in 1876 reni^oved to Yonkers, 
 N. Y., where she purchased a 
 pleasant home in which she has 
 .since resided. During her long 
 and exceedingly prolitic career 
 as an author *^she has written 
 and published sixty-eight 
 novels. The most popular (»f 
 these are "The Deserted Wife," 
 "The Mother in-Law," "Curse 
 of Clifton," "The Discarded 
 Daughter," "The Lost Heir- 
 ess," "Lshmael," "Self-Rais- 
 ed," "Only a Girl's Heart," 
 "The Trail of the Serpent," 
 and "The Hidden Hand." The 
 latter in a dramatized version 
 was for many years exceedingly popular on the P^ng 
 lish and American stage. ]\Irs^ Southworth's stories 
 are located for the most part in ^Maryland and Virgin 
 la. They display great ingenuity in the construction 
 of plot and charac-ter, and good descriptive powers. 
 They all have a distinct moral purpose. Previous 
 to the civil war Mrs. Southworth was an ardent 
 abolitionist, and by her writings greatly aided that 
 cause. She is a woman of refined sensibilities, and 
 a brilliant conversationalist, and is greatly beloved 
 in private life. 
 
 UNivi 
 
 of CALIFORNIA
 
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