Lincoln's picture is placed on a ladder or easel, the children that
recite placing flags and garlands of flowers about it.
RECITATION BY THREE BOYS WITH THREE FLAGS
First Boy:
The flag that speaks of men made free,
The flag of sword and drum,
'Tis the bonniest banner in all the world,
The flag of battles won.
Second Boy:
The flag that speaks of Gettysburg,
Upheld by faithful men
Amid the battle's storm and strife,
Shall wave for us again.
Third Boy:
The flag that waves o'er Lincoln now,
Means freedom for the slave;
So waves the bonnie stars and stripes
O'er many a patriot's grave.
All:
No North, no South, no East, no West,
A union of all states is best;
One flag for all is a nation's pride,
The Blue and the Gray lay side by side.
A Girl (_comes on stage and recites_):
OUR HERO
Today the flags are flying,
For a hero that we love;
We all sing of Lincoln,
While waves the flag above.
Bring out the bonnie banners,
Flags of shining stripes and stars,
Lincoln was our country's hero,
And the victory is ours.
Another Girl (_enters and recites_):
OUR LINCOLN
Crown him with wreaths of evergreen,
Our Lincoln.
Bring fairest flowers ever seen,
For Lincoln.
Crown him today with fragrant flowers,
The war is o'er, the victory is ours,
Above all men this great man towers,
Our Lincoln.
Crown him with gentle words of love,
Our Lincoln;
And place the banners high above
For Lincoln.
Raise high the flag of liberty,
For one who set the slaves all free,
Ring out his praises from sea to sea,
Our Lincoln.
(Children _carrying flags and flowers and having shields on their
breasts, each bearing one letter to spell the word "Lincoln," enter.
The cards bearing the letters are hung from the neck, and when children
enter are blank side toward audience. Each child turns his letter to
view of the audience after reciting his lines and disposing of his
flowers and flag. They stand in order, and when through reciting, place
the flowers and flags around the portrait of Lincoln._)
L:
Lincoln's name we all repeat,
And bring for him our flowers sweet.
I:
In peace or war a nation's pride,
We place our banners by his side.
N:
No North, no South today is seen,
We bring our wreaths of evergreen.
C:
Crown him with honest words of love,
And place the stars and stripes above.
O:
One nation and one flag is best,
Place flowers where our hero rests.
L:
Lincoln, we all love to bring
Tributes, while of thee we sing.
N:
No more he hears the bugle's call,
We scatter flowers over all.
All (_return, grouping themselves nicely and sing_):
LINCOLN DEAR[H]
Wave the bonnie banners high,
O Lincoln dear!
A host of children passing by,
O Lincoln dear,
Will sing to you their sweetest song,
As they now proudly march along,
For laurels unto you belong,
O Lincoln dear.
_Chorus_: Wave the banners high,
The Red, the White, the Blue;
Wave the banners high,
To Lincoln dear we're true.
O wave the bonnie banners,
How proudly they all sway,
We wave the Red, the White, the Blue,
For Lincoln dear today.
Bonnie flags shall crown you now,
O Lincoln dear,
We place them by your noble brow,
O Lincoln dear,
And fairer far than monument,
The love from our young hearts is sent,
You were our honored President,
O Lincoln dear.
_Chorus_: Wave the banners, etc.
[H] Music for this will be found under Songs in another part of this
book.
A FLAG EXERCISE
L. F. Armitage
FOR EIGHT LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS, EACH CARRYING A FLAG
First Child:
What flag is this?
Second:
This is our country's flag,
This flag so fine.
It is my father's flag
And it is mine.
Third:
What are its colors?
Fourth:
White stars in a field of blue,
Stripes white and red.
See our "Red, White and Blue"
Waving o'erhead (_waving flags_).
Fifth:
What do these colors mean?
Sixth:
White means, Be always pure!
Red means, Be brave!
Blue means, Be ever true!
Long may it wave.
Seventh:
Why are the flags up today?
Eighth:
All these United States,
Many in one,
Honor this glorious name--
Abraham Lincoln.
All (_sing_):
_Tune_: AULD LANG SYNE
We wave[A] the flag, the bonny flag
Of red and white and blue.
This flag that floats o'er land and sea,
To it we will be true.
Then[I] hail the flag, this bonny flag,
We'll give it three times three;
God bless the land that owns this flag,
The land of liberty.
--_Primary Education_
[I] Waving flags.
THE WOODEN FIRE-SHOVEL
Clara J. Denton
A DIALOGUE FOR THREE GIRLS AND TWO BOYS
CHARACTERS
Mrs. Lincoln, _mother of the family_
Mr. Lincoln, _father of same_
Sarah, _step-daughter of Mrs. Lincoln and sister to "Abe"_
John Johnson, } _Mrs. Lincoln's children_
Matilda Johnson, }
COSTUMES
Mrs. Lincoln: Dark calico gown very plainly made, wide gingham apron,
hair parted in the middle, combed straight back from the face, and
arranged in knot at back. Let this character be taller than the other
girls, if possible.
Mr. Lincoln: Blue overalls and blouse. This character should be taller
than the other boys.
Sarah: Short, plainly-made calico gown; hair arranged in two long
braids, fastened together by dark thread.
John Johnston: Blue overalls and blouse, battered fur cap.
Matilda Johnston: Gown like Sarah's although different in color, hair
also done up like Sarah's.
SCENE
Very plain interior. Pine table at center. Split-bottom rocker near
it. Two old-fashioned wooden chairs placed a few feet apart at
right-front, the same at left-front. At left-rear is a pine cupboard,
on the open shelves of which are some cheap earthen dishes. This
cupboard must be placed so that the characters can pass behind it to
reach the suggested fireplace. Several skins of animals may be tacked
about the walls; a pair of deer-antlers should also be in evidence.
An old-fashioned gun with powder-horn might be hung in a conspicuous
position. A wool spinning-wheel would add to the old-time effect.
Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah are discovered; the former, seated in the
rocker, is mending a pair of ragged overalls, which, as she talks, she
from time to time holds up and spreads out as if looking for holes.
Sarah, at rear of stage, is sweeping vigorously.
Mrs. Lincoln: Dear me, Sarah! what a dust you do kick up (_coughs_);
you'll choke me to death.
Sarah (_sweeping more gently_): Excuse me, but you see, the dirt is all
here, and I suppose the only way to get it out _is_ to kick it up; but
I'll try to be more careful.
Voice (_behind scenes_): Abe, Abe, O, Abe.
Mrs. Lincoln: How strange it is that I just can't teach John not to
stand and call out that way. I've tried ever since he was a baby to
make him go to anyone that he wants.
Sarah: I suppose he thinks it doesn't matter as long as he's just
calling Abe.
Mrs. Lincoln: But it does matter, because it's a bad habit, and a bad
habit is mighty easy to get and mighty hard to lose. I don't have a bit
of trouble teaching all those things to Abe. Dear me, he's such a good,
obedient boy; I don't believe he'll live to grow up (_sighs_).
Sarah: O, yes he will, mother; he's too full of mischief to die;
besides, he's the strongest boy for his age that there is anywhere
around here. He picked Matilda and me both up yesterday and carried us
clear to the woods. We kicked and screamed (_laughs_) and squirmed,
but oh my! we're just like a pair of dolls to him. He set us down at
the edge of the woods, then started on a run. We started too, but he
was in the barn and clear at the top of the corn-stalks stacked in the
mow before we were half way to the house (_laughs_). Don't worry about
his dying, mother.
Voice (_again_): Abe, Abe, O, Abe.
Mrs. Lincoln: What shall I do with that boy?
Sarah: Don't do anything. Just let him keep right on howling until he
gets tired of it.
Mrs. Lincoln: But I'm tired of hearing him.
Sarah: Shall I go and make him keep still? (_Laughs and gesticulates._)
John (_enters at right_): Where's Abe, mother? I've been calling and
calling him. (_Sits in chair at right-front._)
Sarah: Yes, we thought we heard something.
Mrs. Lincoln: Take off your hat, my son. I do wish you didn't need
telling that so often.
John (_removes hat_): But I want Abe.
Mrs. Lincoln: What for?
John: To help me carry in the wood. There's a big storm coming.
Mrs. Lincoln: Well, he isn't here.
John: Isn't here? What do you mean? I didn't see him go away.
Mrs. Lincoln: No, he went away while you were gone to the woods with
your father's lunch. This is his birthday, so I let him walk to
Gentryville to get me some thread. You folks wear out your clothes so
fast that it takes a lot of thread to keep you from being bundles of
rags.
John (_sulkily_): And must I get that wood in all alone?
Mrs. Lincoln: That won't hurt you. Don't you remember the other day
when you had the tooth-ache, Abe got in all the wood and wouldn't let
you do a thing?
Matilda (_enters at left from behind cupboard_): Hurry up, John, and
bring in some wood, the fire is getting low. Don't you feel chilly,
mother?
Mrs. Lincoln: Yes, it is getting cold here. Run along, John, that's a
good boy. Abe will get it all in tomorrow night, I'm sure.
Sarah: Yes, or else when he's rich and famous maybe he'll let you live
with him. Mother is so sure he's bound to be a great man.
John (_rising_): O, well, Abe's all right, I don't mind.
Mrs. Lincoln: Yes, you children like to laugh at the things I say about
Abe, but I know any boy--or girl either, for that matter--who's so
anxious to learn, can't help amounting to something some day. You just
wait and see.
Mr. Lincoln (_enters at right_): What's that, mother? What shall we see
if we wait? Guess we'll have to wait a good while if we see anything
very great around these diggings.
Sarah: O, ma's just bragging about Abe again.
Mr. Lincoln (_goes to_ Mrs. Lincoln _and lays hand on her shoulder_):
You're good to the chap, Sallie, that's a fact. I'm glad I brought you
here to be a mother to him. But sometimes I wonder if it's just the
thing for you to encourage him to do so much reading, for I know you do
encourage him.
Matilda: I should say she does! Why, the rest of us young ones have to
go around on our tip-toes and talk in whispers when Abe gets his nose
in a book.
Mr. Lincoln: Isn't that a little hard on the others, Sallie?
Matilda (_quickly_): Oh, my! _we_ don't mind. We _like_ to have Abe
read, and we think he's mighty good to tell the rest of us all about
what he reads.
Sarah: That he does. You just ought to hear him, pa, tell the story of
Pilgrim's Progress.
Matilda: O, pa wouldn't like that as well as he would Æsop's Fables;
just get him to tell you some of _those_ stories some time.
John: And all about Robinson Crusoe, too, pa, and the queer times he
had. You'd like _that_, I know.
Mr. Lincoln: Well, it may be all right, but I don't like to see a big,
strapping boy like Abe spending his time over books, to say nothing of
the hours he wastes running around borrowing them. Why, I'll bet he has
read every book in this county.
Mrs. Lincoln: So he has! He was wishing just the other day that he knew
of some more books that he could borrow: he said he had "read every
book that he had heard of within a circuit of fifty miles."
Matilda: And, pa, if you could only hear him when he climbs on the
table and makes speeches. I just tell you, Abe is heaps of fun.
Mr. Lincoln: I dare say he is, but that doesn't get the work done.
It's all right for sickly fellows to be spending their time getting
learning, but a big, strong fellow like Abe will always be able to earn
his living by hard work.
Mrs. Lincoln: Of course he'll be _able_ to, but you'll find out he'll
not do it. I tell you there are other plans laid away in that big head
of his.
Mr. Lincoln: Well, well, he'll have you to thank if he ever does amount
to anything, that's sure. (_Shivers._) But it's cold in here, what on
earth is the matter with your fire?
John (_aside_): Time for me to run. (_Exit at right, hurriedly._)
Mr. Lincoln (_turning toward cupboard_): It's funny you young ones
can't look after the fire when ma's busy.
John, you go bring in some wood! (_Looks around._) O, he's gone after
it, I guess--about time. (_Disappears behind cupboard._)
Mrs. Lincoln (_to girls_): Don't tell pa that John was waiting for Abe
to help him. If you do they'll both get a scolding, maybe.
Matilda: And you, too, for letting Abe go away. (All _laugh_.)
(John _enters at right, carrying wood, which he drops noisily behind
cupboard_.)
Mrs. Lincoln (_starting up_): John, why do you drop the wood in that
noisy way? (John _re-appears and comes down_.) After all my talking to
you, it does seem as if you might learn to be more quiet about it.
Matilda: Yes, when Abe----
Sarah (_catching her by the arm_): Hush, Matilda! if you keep on (_they
come down to right front_) you'll make John hate Abe. Don't hold him up
to John _all_ the time as a pattern.
Matilda (_sighs_): But, you know, Sarah, Abe is so different. He never
does any of those disagreeable things that John is always doing. I
remember, when we first came here, ma told Abe to take off his hat when
he came into the house, and she never has had to tell him the second
time; but she is still trying to hammer it into John.
Sarah: Yes, dear, I know, and Abe is so kind to everyone and so
thoughtful of other people's comfort. I am so glad he is my brother,
and I only wish I were half as good and kind as he.
Matilda: Yes, and so jolly, too.
Sarah: Only sometimes he looks so sad--that must be when he's hungry
for more books.
John (_coming towards them_): What are you two girls talking about over
here?
(Mr. Lincoln _appears from behind cupboard, carrying a large wooden
shovel, the blade of which is covered with black figures. He comes
down, confronting_ Mrs. Lincoln.)
Mr. Lincoln: Mother, what in the world is this?
Mrs. Lincoln (_laughing_): O, those are Abe's sums.
Mr. Lincoln: Sums! I vum! Sums! What did he make them with?
Mrs. Lincoln: A piece of burnt wood.
Mr. Lincoln: I vum! Sums! Where did he learn to _do_ sums?
Mrs. Lincoln: O, he picked it up.
Mr. Lincoln: I bet you taught him! didn't you, Sallie? Come now, own up.
Mrs. Lincoln: Well, I helped him a little, but he's far ahead of me
now; he's ciphered clear through that old ragged arithmetic that's been
kicking around the house.
Mr. Lincoln (_turning shovel over_): But both sides are covered. What's
he going to do now?
Mrs. Lincoln: O, he'll take the shaving knife and whittle it all off,
then he'll have a "new slate," as he says.
Mr. Lincoln (_holding up shovel_): A new slate! Sums! Well, I vum!
(_Whistle heard behind scenes._)
Mrs. Lincoln (_rising_): There he comes now. Put the shovel away, and
don't scold him, pa.
Mr. Lincoln: Sums! I vum! (_Exit quickly behind cupboard._)
Curtain
THE PROPHECY
Clara J. Denton
A DIALOGUE FOR ONE GIRL AND TWO BOYS
CHARACTERS
John Thomas Helen
COSTUMES
The characters wear suits made as nearly as possible in the style of
seventy years ago. For hints as to proper styles consult pictures in
old books--a brief description is, however, given.
The boys' trousers are long and loose; the jackets are short and
tight-fitting, with small sleeves. The jackets are made open in front,
and short, close-fitting vests, buttoning to the neck, are worn under
them. White turn-over collars surmount the whole. These suits may
be made of the cheapest material. Or, if preferred, the boys may be
arrayed in blue overalls and "jumpers"; this will save much labor and
inconvenience.
The girl wears a short, full-skirted gown of pink calico, the waist
made plain, fitting closely and buttoning up the back. The hair should
hang in two long braids, the ends tied together with a green ribbon.
SCENE
The stage is set to represent a schoolroom, with blackboards and
maps on the walls, and cheap plain benches and desks in an orderly
arrangement. A small pine table, on which are some books and a
hand-bell, is in the center. Behind this table is an old-fashioned
wooden chair for the teacher. Shabby and battered books are piled
neatly on the various desks.
John (_enters at right, comes to one of the desks, seats himself, and
opens a book_): Here is this miserable sum again. I suppose I've just
_got_ to get it done before the teacher comes; but I can't make head or
tail of the thing. Let me see (_reads_): "If the half of four be three,
what will three-fourths of twenty be?" (_Closes book with a bang._)
Was there ever any stuff like that? Everybody knows that half of four
can't be three, so what's the use of wearing out a fellow's brains,
'specially when he's like me and hasn't any to spare, over a silly
thing like that? O, gee, I believe I'll run away. I hate this school,
school, all the time. If father would only let me stay at home and
plough.
Thomas (_enters at right_): What's that, Jack? Didn't I hear you say
something about ploughing?
John (_rises and leaves desk, both boys come down_): Yes, I was just
wishing I could stay at home and plough instead of coming to school and
worrying my head over fractions. I hate them.
Thomas (_goes to another desk and takes up book_): I don't mind
fractions, but here's this awful geography lesson. Teacher said if I
didn't have it this morning I'd have to stay in all the noon hour and
learn it. What good will it ever do me, I'd like to know, to get the
names of all these islands in my head? I don't mean to be a sailor, and
if I should be I guess I'd learn the names of places fast enough when I
came to them.
John (_puts his hand on_ Thomas' _shoulder_): Say, Tom, let's run away
where they can't make us go to school. We know enough now.
Thomas: So we do; we can write our names, and say the multiplication
table. What more need a fellow know?
John: We can work for the farmers until we get a little money and
then----
Helen (_enters at right and comes down_): O boys, aren't you ashamed?
I overheard your bad plans; how can you talk that way about going to
school instead of being glad that you have the chance to go?
John: _Glad_ of the chance? Ho, ho, that's funny.
Thomas: I should say so, as if anybody was ever _glad_ to go to school.
(_Both boys laugh heartily._ Helen _stands silently gazing at them_.)
John: Why, that beats everything! "Glad to go to school!" I don't
believe there ever was such a thing as a fellow being _glad_ to go to
school.
Helen: I'm sure I'm glad.
Thomas (_snapping his fingers scornfully and turning away_): Yes, but
you're a _girl_. I suppose it's all right for a _girl_ to be glad.
John: I said I didn't believe there was such a thing as a _fellow_
being glad to go to school. You're not a fellow, are you? (_Both boys
laugh and cross over._)
Thomas: If I was a girl I dare say I'd like to go to school. Of course,
that's better than rocking the baby and washing the dishes--but
_fellows_! I tell you they have better ways to pass their time, eh!
Jackie? (_Pokes him in the ribs. Both laugh._)
Helen: Well, it's a lucky thing for the world that all boys aren't like
you, else where would our great men come from if all the boys were as
willing to remain great know-nothings as you two are?
John: O, who wants to be great? Great men have to work, and to sit up
nights and worry about things. I'd rather be a plough-boy than a great
man any time.
Thomas: So would I! Nothing to worry about, just follow the horse and
keep the plough straight.
Helen: Well, there's one thing of which both of you may be pretty sure.
Both: What's that?
Helen: You are in a fair way to get what you want. You will both be
plough-boys until you are too old to hold the plough, and then you can
go to the poorhouse, where the "great men" whom you despise will make
laws to take care of you.
Thomas: That's just it; now you are coming around to John's statement.
We will not have to worry; others will do that, you see.
Helen (_impatiently_): Boys, why don't you brace up and study as you
ought to? What's the use of all this foolish talk? You know you don't
mean a word of it! (_Goes up stage._)
John: We do mean it, too, don't we, Tom?
Thomas: _You're_ the one that talks foolishness. You said some boys
would be "glad of our chance to go to school."
Helen (_coming down quickly_): Yes, and it's true, too. I heard my
father telling last night about a boy living out in the woods beyond
Gentryville who'd give almost anything for your chance. He's never been
to school but a few months in his whole life, and--
Thomas: O, no wonder he thinks he'd like it, he doesn't know anything
about it. I thought it was fun, too, when I was in the primer class.
John: Yes, so did I.
Helen: Well, he's beyond the primer class, I tell you. He knows the old
Webster spelling book all by heart, father says.
John: How'd he learn it if he hasn't been to school? Your stories don't
hitch very well, Miss Preachie.
Helen: He learned it all by himself, lying on the floor nights in front
of the big fireplace. They are too poor to have even a grease light.
Thomas: Must think a lot of that old spelling book. (_Both laugh._)
Helen: Of course he thinks a lot of it. He thinks a lot of _any_ book.
Father heard a man telling down at the store that this boy cut four
cords of wood for some one, just to get a _piece_ of a book.
John: O, wanted to read the Arabian Nights, probably.
Helen: But it wasn't the Arabian Nights that he bought; it was the Life
of Washington.
Thomas: What's the use of _his_ reading the Life of Washington? He's
nothing but poor, white trash--too poor, you say, even to have a
grease light. He'll never be anybody.
Helen: Don't you be too sure of that. I tell you that boy will be a
great man. Some day you'll hear of him yet.
John: Just because he was fool enough to cut four cords of wood for a
_piece_ of a book?
Thomas: Well, I'd have had the whole book or nothing.
John: So would I (_sneering_). Why he was a fool. O, yes, we'll hear of
him, of course. We'll read about him in the back part of the spelling
book where the blank leaves are. But what's his name, do you know?
Helen: Yes, father told me. His name is Abraham Lincoln: remember it,
boys, for I am quite sure you will hear it again some day.
Thomas: Of course we'll remember it; couldn't forget it if we tried. A
boy that was as big a greeny as that.
John: I tell you, Helen, the next time that you have to write one of
those things which you like so well--a composition--you can write it
about "The Two Cuts, or The Wood That Was Cut for a Cut Book." My! but
that will be fine. (_Both laugh boisterously._)
Helen: Well, you may laugh, boys, but you'll find there'll be plenty of
people to write about him, and it may be it will be done while you are
yet alive to read the books, and more than that--
(_Shouts heard from behind scenes._)
John (_running off at right_): Come on, Tom, I hear the boys forming
for "There, old cat"; we'll be too late.
Thomas: But, how about your sum and my geography lesson? The teacher'll
do something dreadful to us.
John (_calling back over his shoulder_): Bother on them, we'll have
time to study after school calls: if we don't, who cares? Let Abraham
Lincoln do the studying while we are having fun. Come on, come on.
(_Exit at right._)
Helen: Don't go, Tom; stay and have a perfect lesson for once.
Thomas: O, I've heard preaching enough for one morning. (_Exit at
right, running._)
Helen: That's the way it always ends. If I try to have them mend their
ways, they just make fun of me for "preaching." (_Goes to a desk
and takes up book, opens it and sits at desk._) I'm only a girl, of
course, but I am going to imitate poor Abe by trying to get a little
knowledge into my head. But what foolish boys _they_ are, and some day
when Abraham Lincoln is a great man and everyone is talking about the
wonderful things he is doing, John and Tom will be standing around
whittling sticks and growling because they couldn't be as "lucky as
Abraham Lincoln." Well, if _I_ am anywhere around, I'll tell them of
the things they said this morning. I know I shall never forget them.
(_Becomes intent on book._)
Curtain
CAPTAIN LINCOLN
Clara J. Denton
A DIALOGUE FOR FIVE BOYS
CHARACTERS
Captain Lincoln
Lieutenant Dash
Private Dunn
Sergeant Free
Gerolomo, _the Indian_
COSTUMES
Soldiers: For the four soldiers, suitable military outfits.
Indian: If a wig of long black hair is obtainable, part the hair and
make into two heavy braids, twisting yellow or red flannel through the
braids which hang down close to the face on either side. If a wig
is impossible, decorate a strip of pasteboard with chicken feathers
and fasten it around the head. Wear a brightly colored blanket thrown
over a pair of overalls and dark cotton shirt. Wear moccasins. Carry
old-fashioned gun.
The character of Lincoln must be taken by boy much taller than the
others.
SCENE
Camp; tent in foreground with flap up, showing rude bed, gun,
knapsack, etc.
Lieutenant Dash and Sergeant Free are discovered lying at full length
not far from tent.
Lieutenant (_rising_): Well, I must say, I'm mighty tired lying 'round
here waiting for that boat to come.
Sergeant (_yawns and rolls over_): Guess we'll never get where the
Indians are if we wait for that boat. Wish we could all swim across the
river. Captain Lincoln's getting mighty tired of waiting, too.
Lieutenant: No wonder! Such an unruly lot as he has to hold in check
here.
Sergeant: Yes, think of his being blamed for that rowdy crowd breaking
into the storehouse and drinking up all the whiskey. He didn't know a
thing about it until it was all over.
Lieutenant (_walking up and down_): Yes, but you see that's the way
things go; he's at the head of the company and he just has to stand
the blame for all their meannesses. I should think they'd be a little
careful of their doings for they all like him, or seem to, anyway.
Sergeant: You see, they just didn't think, that's the trouble with them.
Lieutenant: Perhaps they'll be more careful after this, that is if they
like him as well as they pretend to.
Sergeant (_jumping up_): Oh, that's all real; they like him, you can
depend on that. Didn't you ever hear how he came to be captain?
Lieutenant: No, I have often wondered about it, for he's young for that
position. Tell me all about it if you can. (_Seats himself on ground
near door of tent._)
Sergeant: Well, it was this way; it's not a very long story, but I
might as well sit down. (_Sits on other side of door._) You see, there
were two fellows put up: Kirkpatrick and Lincoln. The vote was taken
in a field, by directing the fellows at the command "march," to gather
around the one they wanted for captain. The other fellow was a good
deal older than Lincoln and I s'pose most folks would say he was better
fitted to be captain, but's sure's you live a good big majority went
over to Lincoln's side. And I never saw a fellow so tickled as Lincoln
was! (_Slapping his knee with his right hand._)
Lieutenant: Well, now, they ought to stand by him and not cut up any
more rowdy tricks, to have him disgraced by wearing a wooden sword.
Better talk to them just as soon as you get a chance.
Sergeant: I will, sir, that I will. (_Enter_ Private Dunn _at left. He
comes down and salutes._)
Private: You just ought to have been up the road with the boys a couple
of hours ago. I tell you, we had heaps of fun. Talk about Indians!
Lieutenant (_jumping up_) } Indians!
Sergeant (_rushing to him_) }
Private (_crossing over_): Indians! (_Waving his hands for them to
remain calm._) No, just one poor lonesome, hungry Indian--an old one at
that.
Lieutenant } Did they kill him?
Sergeant }
Private: I guess not! the Captain was there.
Lieutenant: Well, what _did_ they do to make any fun?
Private: Well, they all ran at him with their guns, yelling "Redskin!
Scalp him! Kill him! He's what we're after." Then the frightened old
fellow drew from his belt a letter and whined out "Me good Injun, me no
harm paleface. See--paper; from big white war chief." Someone grabbed
the letter and read it aloud. It was from General Cass and said that
the bearer Gerolomo was a friendly Indian and that he must be given
food and shelter.
Lieutenant: Forged letter, no doubt.
Sergeant: I bet he was a spy.
Private: That's just what the others said. They all got around him and
yelled "Shoot him! Kill him!" till I didn't think the poor beggar's
life was worth two bits. He thought so, too, I guess, for he was so
scared that he was almost white. They were all around him so that he
couldn't run--tell you it looked tough. (_Draws long breath._)
Lieutenant: But go on; you said they didn't kill the worthless cur?
Private: "Worthless cur!" Well, I guess not! the Captain heard the men
and dashing in among them, he laid his hand on the Indian's shoulder,
and he just roared: "The first man that touches him dies!" O, boys,
you'd orter been there. (_Goes up._)
Sergeant: Come back and tell the rest; what happened then?
Private (_comes down_): Someone sung out, "O, you're a coward, afraid
of an old Indian. Let _us_ have him!" Whew! You'd orter seen him
_then_. I never see the Captain so mad. "Who says I'm a coward?" he
roared, rolling up his sleeves.
Lieutenant: Well, did they fight him? (_Laughs._)
Private: Guess not--didn't want to tackle that job. So the Captain
after a minute or two took the old Indian by the arm and led him off to
feed.
Sergeant: That was just like the Captain, but it may be the old fellow
is a spy after all.
Lieutenant: Well, I guess that's the only Indian that we are likely to
see and it's too bad of the Captain to spoil the boys' fun. O, here
comes the noble red man now. (Gerolomo _enters at right, comes down
slowly and timidly._)
Lieutenant: Hullo, there, you redskin! What's your name? (_Goes to
him._)
Indian: Gerolomo. Me heap good Injun; heap like paleface, bring
paleface heap meat. (_Shows gun and continues to move on slowly across
stage._)
Lieutenant: Stand still, there, and tell us where the rest of your
people are; we'd like pretty well to kill a few hundred.
Indian (_stands_): Big paleface tell Gerolomo go bring venison, go
bring duck.
Lieutenant: Well, why don't you do it, then? Better mind him, I tell
you, or he'll have you shot.
Indian (_shaking head decidedly_): No, no, big paleface heap good, heap
brave; no harm poor Injun.
Sergeant (_going to_ Indian): You're off now, I'll bet, to tell your
people just where to find us and just how many palefaces there are here.
Indian (_repeats former business_): No, no, Gerolomo go tell big
paleface got venison, got duck, got squirrel.
Private (_going to him and shaking his fist at him_): None o' your
lying now. If you go to the Captain with that yarn he'll make short
work o' you. The Captain hates a liar, he does.
Indian (_whining_): Me no lie, me good Injun. Me go tell big paleface
me bring venison, me bring duck, me bring squirrel.
Lieutenant (_to the others_): Listen to that, will you? He'll bring
venison, he'll bring duck, he'll bring squirrel. My! but we'll be
living high. (All _laugh._)
Sergeant: We'd like to _see_ your venison, your duck, and your squirrel.
Indian (_briskly_): All right, me bring 'em in, me bring heap meat.
(_Turns about and moves toward right exit._)
Lieutenant: Better go with him, Dunn, because if he is lying to us,
which he probably is, he'll not come back.
Private: All right, come on you "heap good Injun." We'll see what
you've got out there. (_Exeunt._)
Sergeant (_saluting_): Hadn't I better go, too, Lieutenant? He may get
away from Dunn.
Lieutenant: No, I think Dunn can manage him. But hasn't he learned the
trick of telling a good lie?
Sergeant: I should think so. Venison, duck and squirrel, and he's only
been in the woods a few hours.
Lieutenant: Well, of course he may be telling the truth, because the
woods are full of game, and I daresay the old fellow is a good shot.
(_Enter_ Private Dunn, _carrying a squirrel in one hand, a duck in
the other, followed by_ Gerolomo _dragging a dead deer. They stop at
center._ Lieutenant Dash _and_ Sergeant Free _run to them._)
Lieutenant: Well, really, you old redskin you have told the truth for
once in your life.
Indian (_lifting his hands and eyes_): Me shoot for big paleface. Great
Spirit tell Gerolomo where venison, where duck, where squirrel for
big paleface. Great Spirit always take care of big paleface. (Captain
Lincoln _enters at left and comes down slowly, unseen by_ Gerolomo.
_The others salute._) Big paleface take care poor old Gerolomo.
Captain Lincoln (_goes to_ Indian _and lays hand on his shoulder_): You
have obeyed my orders and kept your promise, the whitest soldier among
us all could have done no better.
_Tableau_
Curtain
WITH FIFE AND DRUM
Clara J. Denton
A PLAY IN TWO ACTS FOR FOUR GIRLS AND THREE BOYS
CHARACTERS
Mrs. Mortimer, _mother of the family_
Sally Caroline, _the daughter_
Albert, _the son_
Mr. Mortimer, _father_ (_this character has no lines_)
Auntie Temp, _a negro slave_
George Washington Augustus, _her son_
Clementina Diana, _her daughter_
SCENE
Neat home interior. Old-fashioned hair-cloth sofa at right of stage.
Hair-cloth rocking-chair at left. Marble-topped table at center. Easel
with large picture of Lincoln near center. Cane seat rocking-chair at
left-front, also another at right-front. Crocheted tidies on sofa and
all rocking-chairs, and any other minor accessories that will give to
the room an old-fashioned appearance.
COSTUMES
Mrs. Mortimer and Sally Caroline: For these two characters borrow
dresses made during the '60's. If this is impossible, make gowns of
some cheap yet good-looking material to represent such. Let the skirt
be very full and worn over hoops; the waist plain and tight-fitting
with wide flowing sleeves with white muslin undersleeves. Wear a
broad, flat, embroidered collar. Mrs. Mortimer wears her hair parted
in the middle, two curls on either side of her face, held in place
by side-combs; the remainder fastened in a knot at the back. Sally
Caroline's hair hangs in curls. Let these costumes be planned and
overlooked by a skillful matron who is at least sixty years of age.
Albert: In first act he wears an ordinary suit for young man; in
second act butternut-color suit, ragged and soiled.
Auntie Temp: Bright-colored print gown, wide gingham apron, bright
bandanna kerchief tied on head. This character should be represented
by a stout person, if possible.
George Washington Augustus: Overalls and "jumper" of blue denim.
Clementina Diana: Cotton gown. The two last named must wear negro wigs
or wigs of black wool. The characters making-up for negroes should
cover the faces with some sort of toilet cream before applying the
burnt cork or "black-face" preparation.
Mr. Mortimer: United States military uniform faded and ragged.
ACT I
Auntie Temp (_before the curtain rises_): Gawge Washington Augustus. O,
Gawge Washington Augustus, Gawge Washington Augustus, I say. (_Curtain
rises._ Auntie Temp _is seen leaving stage at right._)
George (_enters at left_): I was jes' suah I yerd mammy callin' me in
heah. Wondah whar she went? Mighty ha'd times dese is foh de niggahs,
dat's suah. What wid ole marsa goin' off wid de Linkum sojas an' young
marsa stampin' 'round an' sayin' he foh suah cehtain am agoin' wid de
Fed'rates I mos' done wish I hain't nevah been bo'n. I is foh suah.
(_Singing behind scenes, a strain of any darkey melody that may be
convenient, though the following, is especially appropriate._ George
_pauses to listen._)
George (_continues after the singing dies out, looking toward right_):
Dere comes dat worfless Clementina Diana, ef she is my sistah. 'Peahs
lak any niggah dat can sing now-a-days ain't got no heart, jes' all
gizzahd lak a chicken. (Clementina _enters at right, still singing._)
Shet up dere, Clementina Diana, how kin you go a-singin' 'round right
in de midst o' dis yere wah when de folkses is a-shootin' each udder
down, an' a--an' a----
Clementina: O, pshaw! Gawge Washington Augustus, I didn't make de wah,
'sides I hain't seen none o' it, so I might's well be gay and happy
while I kin. Mammy's been a-squawkin' foh ye dis yere long while.
George: Where's she gone ter?
Clementina: O! _I_ dunno. (_This in a slipshod way, shrugging her
shoulders. Continues singing and exits at left._)
NEGRO SONG
This is a funny old song that the darkeys used to delight to sing in
the days when they believed "Father Abraham" was coming to free them.
[Music]
1. Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa,
Wid de muffstas on his face,
Go 'long de road some time dis mornin',
Like he gwine to leav de place?
He seen a smoke 'way up de ribber,
Whar de Linkum gun-boats lay;
He took his hat, an' lef berry sudden,
An' I spec he's run away!
2. He six foot one way, two foot tudder,
An' he weigh tree hundred pound;
His coat so big he couldn't pay de tailor,
An' it won't go half way 'round.
He drill so much dey call him Cap'an,
An' he get so drefful tann'd,
I spec he try an' fool dem Yankees
For to tink he's contraband.
3. De oberseer he make us trouble,
An' he dribe us 'round a spell;
We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar,
Wid de key trown in de well.
De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken,
But de massa'll hab his pay;
He's ole enough, big enough, ought to known bet-ter
Dan to went an' run away.
Chorus:
De massa run, ha! ha! De darkeys stay, ho! ho!
It mus' be now de kingdom coming,
An' de year ob Jubilo!
George: Ef that hain't de most disrisponsible niggah gal dat eber
breaved de bref o' life! If I's lak she am I'd run off tomowow and jine
dem Linkum sojas, but I jes' cain't do it. I jes' keep a-wonderin'
what dey all will do at home widout me. Well, I reckon I'll go hunt up
mammy. (_Exits at right._)
Sally (_enters at left carrying open letter_): Poor Cousin Bessie
Helen, she has left her beautiful Alabama home with all its grand
furniture and has run away with her brothers and sisters to grandpa's
home here in Tennessee. What a foolish thing for her to do. (_Reads
from letter_): "When they told me the Yankee soldiers were coming I
couldn't think of anything but to get away safely with the children
before the soldiers came in and butchered us all." How _foolish_ she
was! I am sure the officers would have seen that she came to no harm.
(_Goes to Lincoln's portrait and places her hand upon it._) It is plain
that she has never looked upon _your_ noble face. If she had she would
have felt, as I do, that at least some small measure of your beautiful
spirit must be scattered abroad through your army to keep the men from
harming helpless widows and children. But, poor Bessie! she has only
heard dreadful stories about you, and so, with her mother in her grave,
and her father fighting against the Yankees she could see no safety
except in flight. I must write to her and tell her something of our
beloved Lincoln and the army which he controls. (Albert _enters at
left._) O, Albert, I am so glad you have come in just now. I have here
a letter from Cousin Bessie; she is at grandfather's here in Tennessee.
Albert: In Tennessee?
Sally: Yes, read her letter; she was so afraid of the Yankee soldiers.
Albert: And well she might be, the hounds!
Sally: Hush! (_placing right-hand forefinger to lips_): Albert, do you
forget that our father is one of them?
Albert (_walking up and down excitedly_): Indeed, I _don't_ forget! I
think of it every hour, and it is _that_ which makes me so furious. How
can he accept those low-down Northerners as his associates?
Sally: Brother, be still! Look at that face! (_Points to Lincoln's
portrait._) _He_ is a Northerner, altho' he was born in Kentucky, and
for his sake I love them all.
Albert: Then you must hate all your friends and relatives that are
fighting against him.
Sally: No, no, dear brother, I do not. Don't you remember how the grand
Lincoln closed his inaugural address? "We are not enemies, but friends.
We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not
break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching
from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and
hearthstone,----"
Albert (_interrupting_): There, stop, I will not listen to any more of
his stuff.
Sally (_continuing rapidly_): "All over this broad land, will yet swell
the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by
the better angels of our nature." Are those not wonderful words?
Albert: Stuff and sentimentalism, that's what they are!
Sally: O, Albert, how can you talk so? Think of it! Today is his
birthday; today you should delight to honor him.
Albert: His birthday! Who cares?
Sally: Everyone should give thanks for this day.
Albert (_laughing_): What nonsense you talk, Sally Caroline.
Sally: Well, you will see. The time will come when the Country will
celebrate his birthday just as they now do Washington's.
Albert: O, come now, that's too much. It's bad enough to know that we
are to have another four years of his tyranny, without hearing you sing
his praises.
Sally: But, you'll _have_ to hear it; the war will soon be over, and he
will be proclaimed as the Savior of his Country.
Albert: O, stop! The war is not anywhere near over: it is but begun.
I'll not listen to this talk any longer. I resent it. I'll not hear any
more of Abraham Lincoln. (_Goes up stage in great excitement._)
Sally (_excitedly_): Why, Albert! How can you talk so? Why you sound
just like a rebel.
Albert (_turns and coming to center stands_): And that is just what I
am, a rebel! A rebel against the tyranny of Abraham Lincoln.
(Sally _drops into rocking-chair at left-front; buries her face in her
handkerchief and sobs violently._)
Albert (_comes down_): There, there, little sister! don't take on so;
surely you have known my sentiments before this.
Sally (_rising_): O, but you never talked quite so wickedly before.
How could you say things like that with his noble, benign face looking
straight at you?
Albert (_scornfully_): Noble, benign face, indeed! I'll tear it into
ribbons. I have put up with this thing long enough. (_He goes toward
picture._ Sally _runs quickly, intercepts him, and stands in front of
picture, placing her arms protectingly across it._)
Albert: Stand aside!
Sally: Never!
Albert (_loudly_): Stand aside, I say!
Sally: Never!
Mrs. Mortimer (_enters at right_): Children, what in the world are you
doing? Albert, was that you speaking like that to your sister? I could
hardly believe my ears. (Albert _goes to sofa and buries his face in
his hands._) What in the world are you doing, Sally Caroline? Come and
sit down.
Sally: No, mother, not until Albert promises me that he will not molest
this picture.
Mrs. Mortimer: Molest that picture! Why should he? Your father paid
ten good dollars of United States money for that picture and I reckon
Albert doesn't want to waste money like that. Come here, Albert. (_She
sits in rocking-chair at right-front._) Do come away from that picture,
Sally Caroline; how ridiculous you look spread out there. Come away, I
say!
Sally: No, mother; not until Albert promises me that he will not harm
this picture.
Mrs. Mortimer: Of course he will not harm it. I can answer for that.
Harm a picture which his father loves so well? I cannot imagine my son
doing a deed like that. Albert, come to me.
Albert (_rising_): Mother, I see that I have no place here. I will get
across the line some way this very day, and join the Confederate Army.
(Sally _runs to him._)
Mrs. Mortimer (_rises_): What! My son fight against the old flag?
Sally: Albert, Albert; O, you cannot mean it!
Albert: Mother, you are a Southern woman; you ought to bid me godspeed.
Mrs. Mortimer: Yes, I am a Southern woman, but I am the descendant of
men who helped to bind these States together, and no child of mine
shall, with my consent, help to sever them. You shall _not_ go, Albert.
Albert: Mother, I must! I shall--go. (_Exit at right, running._ Sally
_and_ Mrs. Mortimer _throw their arms about each other and sink upon
the sofa._)
Curtain
Here may be introduced a short drill of the Blue and the Gray if
desirable. It would certainly have a pleasing effect and would tend to
add variety and spice to the entertainment.
ACT II
Fife and drum heard playing YANKEE DOODLE, behind scenes. Auntie Temp
discovered dusting the furniture.
Auntie Temp: Never seen nuthin' lak dem chilluns. Dat dere Clementina
Diana she's jes' nuthin' but a no-'count shif'less niggah eber sence
dem Linkum sojas come 'round heah. She found dat ole fife somewha's
'round an' she jes' blow on it all day long (_puffing in her
excitement_); cain't get nuthin' else out'n her, an' Gawge Washington
Augustus! (_laughing_) golly, he's jes' 's bad, he des poun' de old
drum. O, deah, mighty queah times when niggahs jes' tinks dey's got
nuthin' to do but stan' 'round and make jig music.
Mrs. Mortimer (_enters at right_): Aunt Temp, those children of yours
can make pretty good music. I think we'll have to send them to that new
Fisk University, just founded. (_Sits in rocking-chair at right-front._)
Auntie Temp: Lan' sakes alive, Miss' Em'line! what de wo'ld you-all do
dat foh? Suah dem chilluns ain't done nuthin' foh to shet dem up in de
what ye call it, tentiarity.
Mrs. Mortimer: O, Aunt Temp, I didn't say the _Penitentiary_. I said
the _University_; that's where they educate the darkies, you know, and
when they are natural musicians like your children, they teach them all
the branches of music.
Auntie Temp: What! eddicate de niggahs! I hain't nevah seen no good
come o' dat. I'll eddicate that Gawge Washington Augustus to saw wood,
and Clementina Diana has jes' nachually _got_ to lea'n to make a
hoe-cake 's good 's her mammy kin. I cain't see no use o' nuthin' else.
Lan' sakes, I reckon what's good enough for dere ole niggah mammy
's good enough for dem two black niggahs. (_Placing arms akimbo and
holding head up proudly._)
Mrs. Mortimer: But everything's changed now, you know, Aunt Temp: there
aren't any slaves any more, and so we must teach you colored people to
take care of yourselves.
Auntie Temp: Yes, I know, I yerd lots o' dat kin' o' talk jes' dese
yere days, but I reckon I jes' stays right heah wif you-alls twell I
dies.
Clementina (_running in from right_): O, mammy, did you-all heah de
music?
Auntie Temp: Go 'long ye good-foh-nuthin' shif'less niggah; doan ye see
de mist'ess?
Clementina (_turns and ducks her head and shoulders: a rude imitation
of a curtsy_): O, 'scuse me Miss' Em'line. I was jes' plum' crazy ovah
dat fife. Golly, but dat's fine!
Mrs. Mortimer: You can play as well as a man, Clementina: come here.
(Mrs. Mortimer _takes_ Clementina's _hand and leads her to Lincoln's
picture._) Do you know who this is?
Clementina (_looking very serious_): Suah I duz, Miss' Em'line; dis
heah (_lays her hand on picture_) is de good Massa Linkum what said
to all de people eve'ywha's, up in the Norf 'n' down in de Souf, dat
dere shouldn't nevah no moah be any slaves anywha's. (_Joyfully and
enthusiastically_): Golly, but I's glad he done libed.
Mrs. Mortimer (_bowing head sorrowfully and speaking slowly and
softly_): Yes, indeed, we are all glad of that: and now you may go,
Clementine.
Clementina (_comes down while_ Mrs. Mortimer _remains looking at
picture._ Clementina, _when near right exit, turns and runs back to_
Mrs. Mortimer): O, I say, Miss' Em'line, de good Marsa Linkum done
gone dead now, an' won't dey take us all back foh slaves ag'in?
Mrs. Mortimer (_coming down_): No, you poor child, don't be afraid,
slavery is done with forever and forever. No one can ever undo the work
of Abraham Lincoln.
Clementina: Golly! I's glad o' dat. Bress de Lawd foh Abraham Linkum.
(_Dances a few steps and then exits at right, running._)
Auntie Temp: She hain't got no sense Miss' Em'line, so you-all mus'
jes' nachually fohgive her foh jes' fohgettin' 'bout what all dis yere
wah cost you-all. (_Bowing head and speaking softly and sadly._) But
I knows, I knows, Miss' Em'line, an' I's powe'ful sorry foh you-all.
(_Exit at right, head still bowed._)
Mrs. Mortimer (_sits in rocking-chair at right-front_): Yes, the cost
_has_ been great (_speaking slowly and weighing each word carefully_),
O, how great! and our noble leader who said he now longed only to bind
up the Nation's wounds has been taken from us. How will it be now, I
wonder? They tell me the war is over. Lee has surrendered--but where, O
where (_rises and walks up and down_) are my poor husband and our boy?
It has been long since I have had a letter from either. Perhaps they
have both died fighting for the cause in which each believed. Poor,
misguided Albert! how could he ever have gone against the flag of his
forefathers? (_Exit at left._)
George (_enters at right_): Dat air Clementina Diana's jes' too much
for my institution. She dinks 'case Miss' Em'line told her she done
play de fife's good as a man dat she's de bigges' pickanninny on
dis yere plantation. But I'll show her she cain't come none o' her
friskom-fa'i'cation ovah Gawge Washington Augustus. Dis yere niggah
ain't no slave no moah, an' he's gwine show dat li'l' niggah gal
what's what. (_Fife behind scenes._) Dah she's at it ag'in. (_Enter_
Clementina _at right, running and waving fife in air and shouting_,
Hurrah!) What's de matta, you crazy niggah gal? Ye des done gone out
o' yore senses (_runs to her and shakes her_).
Clementina: Git yore dwum, Gawge Washington 'Gustus, and come on wif
me: de marsa's a-comin'!
George: O, go 'long wif yore crazy talk, de massa's done gone de'd
befoh dis yere. Ye s'pose he lib an' not sen' a perscripshun to de
mist'ess befoh dis yere? No, dem mis'able reb bullets get him foh dis
yere. I knows. (_Pointing finger at her_): Go 'long wid ye now! (_Goes
up stage._)
Clementina: Now, doan ye be so sma't, Gawge Washington 'Gustus; he's
comin' foh suah--I seed 'im.
George (_comes down quickly_): Seed 'im? Ya mis'able good-foh-nuthin'
lyin' niggah gal, how could ye seed 'im?
Clementina (_slowly and solemnly_): I seed a tramp comin' 'way obah de
fields. I kin'a sca'd an' 'spishus. I tak Miss' Em'line's spy-glass
and I looked and I seed 'twas marsa. (_Dances a few steps, singing_,
"Marsa's come." _They both run out at right. Fife and drum is heard,
playing_ YANKEE DOODLE _behind scenes._)
Mrs. Mortimer (_with_ Sally, _run in at left_): I was sure I heard
Clem's voice singing, "Marsa come," but there's no one here. O, why did
she do it? (_Drops into rocking-chair at left-front._ Sally _runs to
her._) It was wicked of her to do a thing like that. And that dreadful
tune! Sally Caroline, I think you'll have to go out and make them keep
still. (_Music grows fainter._)
Sally: Never mind, mother dear, they are going away now. They'll soon
be out of hearing. I'll see what they are about. (_Exits at right._)
Mrs. Mortimer: I never, never, want to hear that tune again. I shall
always associate it with this bitter disappointment. O, I was so sure
my poor husband had come. I wonder what made the child think of singing
that? But, then, she is only a child; she cannot understand (_buries
her face in handkerchief and sobs_).
Auntie Temp (_enters at left and goes to side of_ Mrs. Mortimer): O,
now, Miss' Em'line! Doan, honey, doan do dat, pore soul. Yore ole mammy
knows jes' how't feels--come, now, obah heah on de sofi, an' hab a good
rest. (_Puts arms about her and leads her to sofa, putting pillow under
her head, etc., while talking to her._) Dere, dere, honey, doan ye feel
bad any moah. We-all tak de bes' caah of ye an' make ye des's happy
as we kin. Des tink, Miss' Em'line, dere's Miss Sally Car'line, de
lubliest angel anybuddy eber seed; she done tak des de bes' caah of ye,
so des chirk up, chirk up, Miss' Em'line. Come, now, honey, tu'n obah
an' go a-sleep, yore ole mammy covah ye up.
Mrs. Mortimer: And, Auntie Temp, don't ever let those children play
Yankee Doodle around the house again.
Auntie Temp: Dat I won't, honey, I'll go this minnit an' see 'bout it.
(_Comes down stage._ Sally _enters at right. They meet at right-front._)
Sally (_in excited undertone_): Auntie Temp, what do you think?
(_Catches her by the arm and dances and jumps around in glee._) Father
is coming across the field from the west! Your children have gone to
meet him. And as I was looking around, I saw another figure coming
slowly from the south. I took the glass, which was lying on the porch,
and it is Albert!
Auntie Temp (_excitedly_): Laws honey, ye doan mean it?
Sally: Hush! I am afraid the excitement will be too much for mother. O,
what shall we do? They may come rushing in any minute. (_Fife and drum
heard._ Mrs. Mortimer _groans._)
Auntie Temp: See to yore pore ma, Miss Sally Car'line, I got ter make
dem niggahs shet up. (_Exit at right. Music ceases in a moment._)
Mrs. Mortimer (_sitting up_): O, good Auntie Temp! What a comfort she
is to me; she promised to make those children stop that tune and she
has done it. (_Sighs._)
Sally (_kneeling beside her_): But, mother dear, wouldn't you like to
hear the fife and drum playing Yankee Doodle if it was played for joy?
Mrs. Mortimer (_jumping up_): For joy? What can you mean, Sally
Caroline?
Sally (_rising and throwing arms about_ Mrs. Mortimer): Don't get
excited. It means, dearest mother, that you are to be happy again.
Mrs. Mortimer: O, Sally Caroline, don't deceive me! Do you mean----
Sally (_interrupting_): Yes, yes, it means that they (_leads her
slowly toward right exit_) are both coming across the fields: one
from the west and one from the south, and, even now, they may be in
the door-yard. (Mrs. Mortimer _hurries._) There, there, dear, do not
overtax your strength. Remember, too, they are much changed, and you
mustn't give 'way when you meet them. (_Exeunt at right._)
Clementina (_enters at right, waving fife, followed by_ George,
_carrying drum_): Golly, wa'n't that fine? Seems lak I cu'd jes' dance
mah feet off.
George: Well, ye jes' keep still, ye good-foh-nuthin' niggah gal. Nebah
seed sich a crazy gal nowahs, Dere, dey's comin' now, ye better go hide.
(Clementina _runs up and stands behind Lincoln's portrait so that
only her face is visible._ Mrs. Mortimer, Mr. Mortimer _and_ Albert
_enter at right._ Mrs. Mortimer _is between the two and their arms
are linked._ Sally _follows closely behind, and_ Auntie Temp, _who is
behind the others, goes to_ George _and stands beside him._)
Mrs. Mortimer: It seems too good to be true that I have _both_ my dear
ones at home again.
Albert (_breaks away from his mother and runs to Lincoln's portrait,
laying his hand upon it_): And, mother, I am cured of my folly. I have
seen him, and I am glad the old flag was victorious.
All (_excitedly_): Have _seen_ him?
Sally: O, tell us about him!
Albert (_coming down_): [J]It was at Richmond. I had been taken
prisoner with two other young fellows. We were shut up in an old store.
The President came there with some of his friends and just a few of his
sailors. He passed the store and saw us staring from the window. O, the
look that came over his face I can never describe, as he called out:
"Break in that door and let those boys go home to their mothers." In a
second we were free.
[J] This incident is purely fictitious and is given only as what might
have happened, being quite in keeping with Lincoln's character.
Auntie Temp: De Lawd bress him!
Albert: And, mother, when I stood face to face with him I saw that not
half had been told me of his goodness and his greatness. And when I
heard of his death a day or two ago, as I was begging my way across the
country, to get home, I wept like a child. I knew then, as others will
know later, that this was the end of life for the greatest American
this country ever had.
Auntie Temp: De Lawd save us! I's mighty scar'd o' what 'comes of us
pore niggahs now.
Sally (_going to_ Auntie Temp _and putting hand on her shoulder_):
You have nothing to fear from this time forth, Auntie Temp. Although
Abraham Lincoln is dead, his _spirit_ will live _forever_ in the land.
Albert (_comes to front-center_): Yes, and he has taught the American
Nation, in his own immortal words, "that government of the people, by
the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."
Curtain
SUGGESTIVE PROGRAM
RECOMMENDED BY THE NEW YORK DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION
1. Salute to the Flag SCHOOL
At a signal from the principal the pupils in ordered ranks, hands to
the side, face the flag. At another signal every pupil gives the flag
the military salute as follows: The right hand lifted, palm downward,
the forefinger touching the forehead above the eye. Standing thus all
repeat slowly: "I pledge allegiance to my flag and the republic for
which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice
for all." At the words "to my flag," the right hand is extended
gracefully, palm upward towards the flag, and remains in this gesture
till the end of the affirmation, whereupon all hands immediately drop
to the side. Where a silent salute is given, the flag is borne between
the standing lines or in front of a single line, and the hands remain
at salute until the flag-bearer reaches the center of the room, when,
at a given signal, every hand is dropped.
2. Song--red, white and blue SCHOOL
3. Lincoln Day: Its observance a privilege for
ourselves and a duty to the young people of
the country READING
4. Declamation--Selected PUPIL
5. Song--star-spangled banner PUPIL OR SCHOOL
6. Quotations from the sayings of Abraham
Lincoln and his eulogists BY PUPILS
rising in their places and repeating.
7. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address PUPIL
8. Essay on Lincoln PUPIL
9. Song SCHOOL
10. Tableaux or Grouping representing some
historical event in the life of Lincoln GROUP
11. Lincoln as a Model for the Youth of the
Nation READING
12. Song--battle hymn of the republic SCHOOL
13. Brief Addresses by VISITING VETERANS
and other invited guests.
14. Song--america SCHOOL AND VISITORS
DRILLS, PANTOMIMES, TABLEAUX
OLD GLORY
Marie Irish
A PRIMARY FLAG DRILL FOR FIVE LITTLE GIRLS AND FIVE LITTLE BOYS
Costumes: Each child carries a flag of fairly good size and wears a
soldier cap. The caps are made of red, white and blue tissue paper and
should be provided with an elastic cord that passes under the chin to
hold them in place. Children also wear on each shoulder an epaulet,
made of strips of cambric, an inch wide, one white, one red and one
blue, sewed up in a cluster.
Music: A patriotic march.
Children enter in two files, the boys coming on at the right corner
of front of stage and the girls at the left corner of front. The boys
march up the right side, across back and down the left side of stage,
while the girls at the same time pass up the left side, across back
and down the right side of stage. On reaching the corners of front the
two lines pass diagonally to center of back, first boy and first girl
form a couple, each two on reaching center of back do the same, and the
couples march down the center of stage to the front. During the opening
march the flag is held in right hand, resting against right side, but
on forming couples each couple raises flags and holds them high, staffs
crossed. At the front the boys turn to right, girls to left, pass to
corners of front, up sides and on reaching the back they form two lines
across back of stage, girls on front line with boys back of them. Mark
time, then march--five abreast--down to near-front of stage, where the
lines halt, and as they do so they stand far enough apart to allow a
person to pass between them. During this march the flags have been held
again at right side, but now each one holds flag high. The boy nearest
left of stage now leads the boys along the line of girls, going in
front of the first one, back of the second, in front of the third, back
of the fourth, etc. Boys return to places and halt, then girl nearest
the right of stage leads the line of girls along the line of boys,
going behind the first boy, in front of second, back of third, etc.
The girls return to places and halt, then all hold flags with staff
standing upright and resting on left shoulder. All speak:
In times of peace dear Old Glory doth wave
O'er homes and schools in this land of the brave;
(_Hold flags out in front of bodies, staffs perpendicular._)
In times of trouble it stands for the Right,
And says that Justice is greater than might;
(_Raise flags and wave them above heads._)
In times of battle, its colors so bright
Lead on to Victory, though fierce be the fight.
With flags held at right sides the girls now pass up the right side of
stage while boys pass up the left side. At center of back form couples,
raise flags and cross staffs, march in couples down center of stage to
front. At front the first couple halts, second couple goes to right of
first and halts in line, third couple to left of first, fourth couple
to right of second, fifth to left of third. If stage is large enough
let them stand in straight line across front, otherwise they can stand
in curved line. The children now speak, one at a time. Each one holds
the flag in position at right side until he or she speaks.
First Child (holding flag extended, arm's length at right side):
One little flag says children must be true;
Second Child (holding staff of flag horizontal along left shoulder,
flag hanging down lengthwise at left side; first child now holds flag
in same way):
Two flags say that we must be honest, too.
Third Child (holding staff of flag diagonally across chest, flag on
left shoulder; first and second children hold flags the same):
Three flags say boys and girls must upright live;
Fourth Child (staff of flag perpendicular and resting on left shoulder;
first three hold flags the same):
Four flags say, "Be unselfish when you give".
Fifth Child (holding flag in left hand, extended at left side; first
four hold flags the same):
Five flags teach us, "Let Justice be your song";
Sixth Child (holding flag same as No. 2, but on right shoulder; first
five children holding flags the same):
Six flags say we must grow up brave and strong.
Seventh Child (holding flag as No. 3, but on right shoulder; first six
the same):
Seven flags say, "Be loyal to the Right";
Eighth Child (holding flag as No. 4, but on right shoulder, while first
seven hold flags the same):
Eight flags say, "Love your home with all your might".
Ninth Child (holding flag out in front of body, staff perpendicular;
first eight hold flags the same):
Nine flags say, "Do not idle time away";
Tenth Child (raising flag and holding it a little to the right side of
body; first nine hold flags the same):
Ten flags say we must study hard each day,
All (in concert, waving flags above heads):
So we may grow up wise,
An honor to our land;
Fit subjects of Old Glory,
Our starry banner grand.
The center couple now marches down to center of front, couple to its
right follows, couple to left of first comes next, the couple to right
of second, and fifth couple last. All march, in couples, to corner of
right of stage, up right side, across to center of back, down center of
stage to front, across to left corner of front and off stage.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER
Marie Irish
A FLAG SALUTE, MARCH AND DRILL FOR ELEVEN INTERMEDIATE GRADE CHILDREN
One boy carries a flag considerably larger than the other ten carry.
This boy we will call the Color-bearer. This march may be given by
eleven boys or by six boys and five girls.
Music: A patriotic march.
The children enter in single file at left corner of the line, then, if
girls take part, a girl next, then a back of stage, Color-bearer with
large flag leading boy, etc. File marches across back of stage, back
again to left side, diagonally to right corner of front, back to left
corner of back, down left side, across front of stage, back to left
corner and up left side, thus:
[Illustration]
Then from left corner of back pass to center of back, down center of
stage to front, where Color-bearer turns to right, first girl to left,
next boy to right, next girl to left, etc. Pass to corners of front,
up sides of stage, across to center of back, where the Color-bearer
remains standing, while the next boy and first girl form a couple, each
two do the same, couples march down stage till first couple is near
front. Halt, couples face each other, standing about three feet apart.
The Color-bearer now passes down between the two lines and halts at
front of stage, facing audience. The couple nearest back of stage now
marches down between lines, goes to right and halts, next couple comes
down and goes to left, etc., thus:
[Illustration]
The file stands in curved line back of Color-bearer. Music changes to
STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. The children in the line stand with flags held at
right side, as during the march, till the music gets to "Oh! say, does
the star-spangled banner still wave," when they raise flags and wave
them slowly, till close of music. The piece is played through once and
then music ceases, the Color-bearer raises his flag, holding it quite
high. The others take flags in left hands and hold at left sides. When
the large flag is raised they all say:
I pledge my head, (_touch head with right hand_) my heart, (_lay hand
over heart_) and my hand, (_raise right hand_)
To loyally serve my native land; (_drop hand at side_)
I pledge my power, my honor, and my might (_step forward with right
foot_)
To keep my country's name forever bright. (_Step back in line._)
I pledge the zeal and strength of this right hand (_raise right hand_)
To keep Old Glory floating o'er our land. (_Point to flag._)
The flags are now held in right hands, out in front of bodies:
A flag for the sailor, skimming the sea,
A flag for the soldier, guarding the lea,
A flag for the patriot, proud to be free,
A flag for YOU, (_flags extended to audience_) and a flag for ME! (_At
this flags are laid lovingly across chests and held with both hands._)
Flags are now waved above heads and the line exclaims:
"America forever! (_flags held out at right_) one nation (_flags out at
left_) one country, (_step forward and hold flags high, pointing toward
audience_) one flag!"
Step back in line and hold flags at right sides while the chorus of
COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN, is played softly. At the conclusion
of that the music changes to a march. The Color-bearer leads and the
others fall in line back of him in the same order as on entering the
stage at beginning, passing in single file to right corner of front, up
right side, across back, half way down left side, then across stage.
The last four children halt in line, the others pass up right side,
across to center of back and down center of stage. The Color-bearer
halts in center, the others take places and stand thus:
[Illustration]
Nos. 8 and 9 face back of stage; 5, 6 and 7 face left; 10 and 11 face
front; 2, 3 and 4 face right; then lines march once around, No. 1
(Color-bearer) standing as the pivot on which others turn. Keep lines
perfectly straight while marching, those on outside going faster to
preserve perfect movement. After rotating once, halt. Color-bearer
raises flag high, others raise flags and repeat:
I pledge allegiance to my flag--the best in any land,
And to the Republic for which this flag doth stand;
One nation, indivisible, the pride of great and small,
One flag, emblem of Liberty and Justice for us all.
Color-bearer then marches to front of line, in front of No. 2, leads to
right of stage, all following in order, up to back, across to center of
back, down to center, where lines form thus:
[Illustration]
Lines march around, describing circle, those on outside a large one and
others smaller, then Color-bearer takes position at back of stage, the
others form two lines of five each, across stage. Color-bearer gives
following orders, in sharp, quick tones:
Order, flag! Rest flag on floor at right side, holding with right hand.
Carry, flag! Raise flag and hold in right hand, staff nearly vertical,
top resting against right shoulder, arm straight at side.