Cranks' retreat

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Copyright N°.

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Act I

Scene. — Interior of " Cranks' Retreat." Card boards hanging on walls with these inscriptions : " Dynamite is King" "Death to Tyrants" " Ireland Shall Be Free" " Viva le Republic" etc. Table already set near centre of stage. Tom discovered ringing bell as curtaiyi rises.

Tom. Dis am de last day fo' dis coon here, and don't you disremember it. I wasn't born to wait on cranks, and I might as well come to an understanding wid de boss at once. What's de use ob ringing dis yar bell, it only makes my poor ears feel like dey had drum corps in dem, and dem lunies don't pay any mo' 'tention den if I was calling 'em to settle at de captain's office. Sometimes dey scare me so dat I almost turn white, 'deed I do. I's afeerd o' my life, an' by golly ! if I eber gets out o' dis place I'll start fo' Kalamazoo-zoo half an hour befo' immediately. Ah, here comes Mr. Killpatrick, the bloodthirsty Irish agitator. Glory, he looks kinder wild. [Enter Killpatrick.']

Killpatrick. Helloh, nager, stoupe your racket, I'm not deaf and dumb, do you hear ? Ah, yer black spalpeen, I'll have yer life. I'm a bad mun from the Castle Demicaricarikee, an' thirsty for gore.

Tom. Dats' so, boss, dats so, but you wants red blood, you don t want nigger blood like mine.

Killpatrick. Faith, an' that 's thrue. I must have red blood or none at all, at all. I want English blood. Do you hear, nager, English blood. Oh, but I hate England ; for eight long weary years I laid like a piece of dead meat in the prison of —

Tom. Boss, you done told me dat forty-nine times befo'

Killpatrick. Hold ye tongue, an' I will tell it to ye agin. But no. Vingeance is drawing near, in two weeks time the Prince of Wales goes to Balmoral castle, and then —

Tom. I don't care if he goes to petticoat castle too. I—

Killpatrick. Hush up. Don't care eh, don't care ; don't care when me soul has been a' sighing and a' sighing for this chance for years. Begorrah, Ireland shall be free. Where's Mister Darrell ?

Tom. De Lord knows, I don't. But look, here's Mr. Russiaman, Zar-go, boss dat name'll gib me de lockjaw yet. [Enter Czar wins ki.~]

Killpatrick. By St. Patrick ye're the very mun I want to see. I now am proud to say that I need a couple of infernal machines.

Czarwinski. To dethrone some despot ?

Killpatrick. Don't know so much about that, but I be after pulverizing Balmoral Castle with the Prince in it.

Czarwinski. Ah, 'tis for the cause of freedom, then Czarwinski can be of service to you. Come, I will show you an eight day dynamical clock calculated to blow up the whole of England.

Tom. Gemmen, dinner 's ready.

Killpatrick. Be quiet, nager. Mr. Czarwinski is your machine safe for those who use it ?

Czarwinski. Perfectly. ' Tis one beautiful piece of workmanship, on the Tomassen order, but greatly improved. The slightest fall will cause it to explode. Come, you shall behold it, you shall experiment with it.

Killpatrick. But dinner first, food and talk with Mr. Darrell will give me courage.

Czarwinski. Courage, and you need courage ? You are a coward.

Killpatrick. No, but, but, I tell you, honestly loike, though I hate England, I — I — -kinder don't think dynamite justifiable, I —

Czarwinski. Bah, baby-brat ! dynamite is king ; dynamite is the weapon of the avenger, dynamite is the all-potent engine before which princes tremble. Faint-hearted child that you are, Darrell shall hear of this. [Enter Sharped

Sharp? . Czarwinski is right. Man oftimes becomes inspired, but then man is a puny creature, he needs a mighty power placed in his hands to carry out his inspiration. Dynamite is that power. Some people should be removed from earth and transported immediately to another sphere. Dynamite will do it. There are, to-day, vast buildings existing which are monumental insults to freedom. Dynamite will remove them. Misers and railroad magnets have heaped up enormous riches. Dynamite will distribute it among their heirs or their lawyers.

Czarwinski. Bravo, Mon. Sharpe, you are one great man. Dynamite is King. [Enter Susan B. Franchise^ A beautiful day, Miss Franchise.

Susan B. How dare you sir, how dare you call me Miss ? You know I object to effeminate titles.

Czarwinski. True, true, I made a miss -take y Mr. Susan.

Susan B. That sounds better. But let me right here say a few words on the subject of woman suffrage. These papers [unwrapping a huge bundle of them\ show that women are taking rapid strides towards the ballot-box. Admitting, for the sake of argument, that all men were created equal, is not woman an improvement upon man ? Therefore, she is in everyway qualified to vote, wear pants and smoke.

Kilipatrick. But ma'am —

Susan B. Don't you dare interrupt me. At least let me open my mouth. Now, women have practised medicine and law, and have done all that men can do, and why should she be downtrodden by a parcel of brutes ?

Czarwi?iski. I —

Susan B. Hush up. I tell you men are doomed, I say doomed. Once we get the right to vote, we will wear the breeches and you shall have a taste of petticoats and bustles.

Kilipatrick. ") -^ ,

„ . . . > Mercy ma am.

Czarwinski- )

Susan B. There'll be no mercy for you. Men are condemned to suffer the tape and scissors of endless dressmakers, to have their hair bangled and frizzled, to use cosmetics and bandoline, to stay at home and mind squalling brats, to sew on buttons and wrestle with pots and kettles. I tell you men are doomed, doomed. [Enter Oscar. .]

Oscar. Most true, and woman too,

For woman, lovely woman Soon will feel our manly woes

To battle at a cannon's mouth And wear a soldier's clothes,

To take the place of garbage men,

To man our ships, to scrub their decks,

And sail to Halifax.

Now, Susan B., you soon will see

Tis true the world all over,

For most men's life is toil and strife

While women roll in clover.

Susan. B. You're a fool. I'll —

Oscar. A fool I am, a fool I be,

And yet I am too smart for thee.

But by the by, sweet maiden tender

Of masculine or female gender, Have you seen our Zaidee fair I thought I saw her enter here ?

Susan B. No, 1 haven't seen the little minx and don't want to, either. But to continue, there is not a question in all modern times more vital to our welfare than woman suffrage. I tell you, Mr. Czarwinski, if the Russian ladies had the right to vote there would be no need for either nihilism or dynamite.

To7n. \_Aside.~] De ole woman am right dis time, and don't you disremember it. Woman at de ballot-box would do mo' damage dan dynamite, any day. [ While Susan B. talks and gesticulates with Czar. a?id Killp., Tom busies himself about table, etc., enter Zaidee with waiter filled with dishes.]

Zaidee. Geminy, I'm tired. Tain 't much fun to be a roasting an' a boiling afore a red hot stove a' cooking for cranks. I was born for sumfing better nor that. I was born for a skating rink. Oh, cracky, if I could steal off sometime and get on them air rollers would'nt I show the boys something ! Let's see how'd they skate. You strut this way, then that way, then down you come, all for fifteen cents. But it may be a long time afore poor Zaidee gets a chance to show her flippers. Dad's so cross and Mam, Mam's worse nor the toothache. Nuffin but work for me Lay there, you seven year old chicken. \Slapping a dish on the tabled] Lay there you dried up old carrot you. [*****] Ah, Mr. Butter, I'm stronger nor you, get in there and if you dare to break that dish I'll smack you. \_Half singi?ig.~\ Oh, there's a spoon for Daddy, there's a fork for the old woman, there's a knife for P. Sharpe and there's all the rest for Oscar. Dinner's ready, dinner's ready, folks. \_Enter auxiliary cranks, etc. All seat themselves at tabled]

Oscar. The frugal banquet waits us now,

Let us test its tissue, For desert sweet Zaidee dear I would like to kiss you.

Zaidee. I'll box your jaws, you fool. But I say, Dad and Mam are out, lets all pitch in and have a good time.

Killpafrick. Be jabers, that we will. Shall I warble — Sharpe. No, for mercy's sake spare us.

Oscar. I propose a song from the sweetest of birds To be sweetly sung in my beautiful words.

All together. Yes, yes, Zaidee, a song, a song.

Zaidee. Folks. I ain't much on a' singing, 'cos I hasn't much l'arnin', howsumever, I'll do my best Mr. Oscar here composed the words on his cuffs, so I'll have to depend on him a' leading you in the chorus. I'm going to tell you about dynamite. [All start to their feet .] Be seated I hav'nt it about me. [All the rest eat as she sings the following : ]

Oh, dynamite, dynamite, blow the old world up, The kings and the railroads own the whole earth,

The despots are greedy,

The poor men are seedy, While O'Donovan R. rolls over with mirth, England and Russia yell, " Heaven defend us," And shake like they had the delirium tremenduous.

Oh, princes are quaking.

And kingdoms are shaking,

With fear of awakening, our King Dynamite.

Cho. 'Tis the terror of kings and friend of the devil, Reducing the tyrant to poor people's level. When a fiend we would fight For the sake of the right We've but to ignite, old King Dynamite.

Oh, dynamite, dynamite, fain would I use thee

To blow up the fellow who keeps down below, [Poi?iting.~\

Who feeds led with a spoon,

Hot as ulsters in June, And roasts all his guests in a fire you know. If a crank could get near him, 'tis easy to tell There'd be a warm rumpus raised down in well,

And sincerely we trust

Satan 'd get up and dust

When he'd hear the loud bust, of King Dynamite.

Clio. Oh, we'll blow up the dudes and spare all the cranks, We'll kill all the "sissies," and gather the thanks, For the feminine gender Whose hearts are so tender Will find a defender, in King Dynamite.

[ Cranks all leave table tozvards end of song and crozvd around Zaidee, keeping time and singi?ig chorus very loud. N. B. Any other diversity might be here introduced. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Darrell as Zaidee finishes.']

Darrell. Damnation ! What's the meaning of all this clatter ?

Mrs. D. Ah, its you, you good-for-nothing, worthless jade, {striking at Zaidee.] I'll teach you to be screaming and carryingon in this way. Oh, you little wretch, I'll half kill you, I'll — [racing her around.]

Darrell. That will do my dear. I'll punish her after dinner, not now. Leave her to me. \_Exit Zaidee^] Be seated every one of you. [Looks at table.] No, never mind, you have eaten enough, begone !

Oscar. Most noble chief, most royal sire,

To eat and drink 's our great desire, After singing we are hungry quite, For scarce we ate a single bite.

Tom. Dat's so, boss. I's a witness. Cross my breaf, dey ain't hardly had nothing.

Darrell. Then they'll have to do without, 'twill teach them to presume upon my absence. Begone, every one ; begone, I say. [Exit auxilliary cranks^]

Czarwinski. Czarwinski will not allow any man to speak thus to him. I must be addressed as a gentleman should be.

Darrell. Rebelling, eh. [Aside to Czarwinski.] Czarwinski seems to forget Moscow, the blowing up of the Winter Palace and the horrors of Siberia. All right, Mr. Czarwinski, I will be more polite when I speak to you in future, things are coming to a pretty pass, when Siberian exiles, dare to —

Czarwinski. Mercy, don't mention that — I — know I'm in your power, but — I — I —

Darrell. Begone, sir, begone, I will remember this. [Exit Czarwinski.]

•

Killpcttrick. Sure an' Mister Darrell you're afoine gintleman, an' has to be sivere at toimes, but, but couldn't you send us off without hollowing so.

Darrell. Hush up, fool, I speak as I chose to English subjects.

Killpatrick. Don't, don't, for heaven's sake don't speak so loud, ye'll be overheard.

Darrell. Then out o' my sight. [Exit Killpatrick.~\ And why do you stand simpering there ? you fool. [ Turning upon Oscar fiercely^

Oscar. I simper 'cos I smile,

To simper is my style.

Darrell. Idiot, begone !

Oscar. I can't begone, for I am here,

And if I begone, I'll be there.

Darrell. Get out. Vamboshe the ranch. One. two, three — bounce ! \_Exit Oscar. Enter Zaidee]

Darrell. [Turni?ig' fiercely upon Zaidee.~] Come here, you devilish brat ; for two cents I'd thrash the skin off your back. How dare you sing ? How dare you enjoy yourself? Haven't I told you about this before ?

Zaidee. Yes, Dad, but I was only —

Darrell. Not a word out of you. Now, remember, if I ever catch you idle, or even talking with any of these inmates, I'll thrash you within an inch of your life. Do you hear ?

Zaidee. Yes, Dad, but I wasn't doing nothing, 'deed I wasn't, I— I-

Darrell. Don't lie to me. I saw you. '* * Get to your work. If a very tall man should ring the bell and ask for me, show him right up. I have private business with him. * * There, stop, tell Mr. Sharpe to come here at once. [Exit Zaidee.~]

* * * I fear that girl will give us trouble yet. * * * What a great power this Retreat is. The outside world thinks that I provide a home for these poor, half-witted creatures out of charity. Charity, the idea of me doing charity. Ha, ha. Charity and religion are often cloaks to cover up deeds of darkness. Now, here am I, known to the world as a benevolent old soul, taking care of a lot of insane paupers, when these paupers are the very source of all my wealth and power. Through them I can accomplish anything. I have correspondents all over the world, and when any of them want a dark deed done, from political threats to assassinations, I work upon one of these creatures until I have him nerved up to do the deed, then I have only to set him loose. In a little while I read that the work has been done, and yet my hands are still clean. Ha, ha, who can counteract the mighty influence a man holds over the world, when he has absolutely under his control a houseful of cranks ?

Mrs. D. Oh, you're just a lovely man, and some of these days will be president of the first Irish Republic.

Darrell. No, no, my dear, my ambition does not lie in that direction. Public men of to-day are constantly in too much danger. No man of national reputation is safe ; there are cranks everywhere, and if a shrewd man like me choses he can prey upon their imaginations until they are as clay in his hands. But, by the by, have you made all ready for our expected guest.

Mrs. D. Yes, room No. 4 is vacant, he can have that. Is he violent ?

Darrell. Only at times, but we must study his nature carefully. I intend that he shall assist Sharpe in —

Mrs. D. Hush, we might be overheard.

Darrell. No danger. Ah, here's Sharpe now. [Enter Sharped Wife, you may retire. [Exit Mrs. D.~] Sharpe, I have a very important mission for you.

Sharpe. I am ready for anything, sir.

Darrell. [Looking carefully about to see if any danger of being overheard^ Tis now the fifteenth of the month, on the twenty-fifth the Prince's Theatre, Liverpool, must be blown up. Do you understand ?

Sharpe. Perfectly, but am I to do the work ?

Darrell No, there will be an half cracked actor here in a few minutes. It may be troublesome for us to sufficiently cloud his mind, and nerve him to the point, however, I think I am equal to the task. His love for the stage, and his jealousy of his rivals, shall be the tools I'll use. Besides, I have another means, you shall see what it is. I will call you in when he comes, and you must say yes to all the questions I ask you. Do you comprehend ?

Sharpe. So far, all right.

Darrell. There is but little more. After we have him in proper state, I will give you all the money necessary for your expenses, and you can set sail at once. Remember, if you betray me in this matter the galleys await you.

Sharpe. You need not remind me of that. I will do as you say. But, the actor —

Darrell. Will be here in a few minutes. Please leave me to my own reflections. I will call you when I need you. \_Exit Sharped So far all works well. Let's see, {taking out newspaper^ yes, yes, the Premier has accepted the invitation, he will positively be there. Ha, ha. Now to write out a number of threatening editorials, and make the people believe I am tearing the very heart out of England. But suppose the Premier doesn't get blown up with the theatre, that something happens to keep him away. Ah, well, it doesn't make any difference to me. When the people hear of the calamity they will lift up their hands and say : " Darrell did it, Darrell did it," and that'll do me just as much good. My, won't the subscriptions to the Fenian fund come pouring in ? But stop, suppose I kill a number of helpless women and children. Bah, that's nothing to me. I won't be near England. I won't hear their groans. It will have to be done, have to be done. I must keep up my reputation. It's bread and butter to me. {Ring at bell.~] Ah, 'tis he, he comes at last. {Enter Zaidee with a card in her ha?id.~]

Zaidee. Oh, Dad, I just wish you'd seen what handed me this. Why, Dad, its crazier than Oscar even. It looks like a fricasse dude plucked before 'twere ripe. " Young woman," it said, and it smiled till I thought its ears would fall into its mouth, "Young Miss, is me lord within his habitation ?" I told it I didn't speak French, then it said : "Is Henry Darrell, E'squire reposing in this superb palatial domicile, or rather can he be found at this period of the solar day within the precincts of these clustering walls ? " Oh, cracky, Dad, I had to laugh right in its face. "Yes," says I, with mighty big dignity, "Dad's up stairs." Then it took this ticket out of a pocket-book that big, {showing by gesture^ and told me to hand it to you with his best 'spects. but he didn't give them to me.

Darrell. What ?

Zaidee. His best 'spects. {Gesture, showing she means spectacles^

Darrell. Get out with you. You've too much tongue. Tell the gentleman to come in.

Zaidee. All right, Dad. \_Enter Macready ^\ Helloh, here's crazy now. * * Why didn't you wait, and I'd sent a

fool-catcher after you ?

Darrell. [ Chasing her out.~\ How dare you ?

Zaidee. [Peeping from behind the door.~] I say, Dad, let me put it in my scrap book. [Exit Zaidee.~\

Macready. Most potent, grave and royal signor, you have sent for me and I have come. Wilt deign to speak to me ?

Darrell. And your name is ?

Macready. Junius Brutus Edwin Forrest Macready at your service.

Darrell. I am most happy to meet you. Be seated, sir. You are, I believe, an —

Macready. An actor. [ With strong accent on last syllable^ One of those unreal creatures who fret out an imaginary existence upon a miniature world ; who make men laugh while they themselves are suffering, perchance, bitter heart agonies ; who make men weep while they themselves feel ready to laugh ; who strut for a while and then make two exits, one from the unreal stage, and one from the great theatre — this world of ours. Yes sir, I, am an actor.

Darrell. No doubt a tragedian of the old school. I think I have seen you in your palmy days.

Macready. Yes — no — yes — by the ghost of Hamlet's father, it is — it ain't — it is — Ah, my scattered sense recall —

Darrell. What ?

Macready. A fearful night in midwinter, a street-scene in London, the whistling wind, the pelting snow, a man passing under the light of a lamp. I am following him. My hand is raised, I strike with my clenched fist, some one pushes past me, the man utters a cry and falls dead at my feet. Ah, why, why does your face recall to my shattered mind that murder in the snow, that cry for help ? Why does it make the image of that ghastly corpse rise before my conscience ? Why, because you are —

Darrell. Henry Darrell, and no one else. Do not dare to call me any other name.

Macready. But scoundrel, you cannot deceive me. I know you well, and will not be silent. My brain reels, yet vividly, I recollect —

DarrelL You recollect nothing. Fool, what good will it do you to rave about the past ? Remember, you cannot prove me guilty. We were both found leaning over the corpse, both yelling for help. You swore that I committed the murder, and I swore that you did it. We were both arrested, and the testimony was as conclusive against the one as the other. A non pros was entered against both, and either of us is liable to be tried again at any time.

Macready. Yes, yes, but you know that I am innocent.

DarrelL I know nothing, beside the man is living who saw you strike the blow.

Macready. Monster, you lie! Though your hands are stained with blood, I hurl defiance at you.

DarrelL Wait and you shall see. [Rings bell. Enter Zaidee.~] Tell Mr. Sharpe to come here at once. [Exit Zaidee.~\ Now sir, I will confront you with a living witness.

Macready. Villain that you are. Though you have all the chicanery of lago, you cannot make me believe that there was anyone present but the murdered and the murderer. Why did he not come forward before ?

DarrelL Because he left England before the trial and did not wish to be detained there. But here he is and will speak for himself. \_Enter Sharped Ah, Mr. Sharpe, pardon me for recalling an incident that is unpleasant to you, but, tell me, you were in London on the night of February 17th, 1872. Were you not ?

Sharpe. Yes, sir.

DarrelL I believe you were a witness to a murder upon that night ?

Sharpe. Yes, sir.

DarrelL You saw the assassin strike the fatal blow ?

Sharpe. Yes, sir.

DarrelL You were looking from a window directly over the spot ?

Sharpe. Yes, sir.

DarrelL And che murdered man's name was LordNordville, was it not ?

Sharpe. Nordville — Nordville — yes, yes, that was the name.

DarrelL And if you saw the man who committed the crime you would recognize him ?

H

Sharpe. Easily. I can never drive his murderous features from my memory, for I saw him so distinctly under the light of the street lamp.

Darrell. [Pointing to Macready.~] Then gaze into that man's face. Tell me is this the man ?

Sharpe. \_Looking at Macready scrutinizingly^\ Yes — yes — 'tis the same, changed a little, aged a little, perhaps, but still 'tis the same. Ah, I can swear that man murdered Lord Nordville.

Macready. Perjured wretch, I'll make you swallow your foul lie. Take that. \_Spri?igs at Sharpe but is overcome by S. and D.~\ Alas, I'm too weak to cope with fiends ! My poor mind is in a whirl. I — I — All right, Darrell, all right, I will keep silent as the tomb — but — but — you, scoundrel, {turning on Sharped had better keep out of my sight. I will not be responsible for my acts.

Darrell. Leave us Mr. Sharpe. I think Mr. Macready will come to terms now. [Exit Sharped

Macready. Terms. I make terms with you ! Wretch, how dare you ?

Darrell. Be calm, sir, be calm ; you are embittered against me. It will be to your own interest to listen.

Macready. No doubt you are about to propose some villainous scheme.

Darrell. No. I will return good for evil. You are out of work, Macready ?

Macready. Yes, and being out of work am out of pockets, out of sorts, and outrageously hungry.

Darrell. Exactly, and you need a friend.

Macready. But better money.

Darrell. Admitted. You need both. Now, do you desire an engagement ?

Macready. An engagement — -ye gods, an engagement ! You ask a half- starved actor, who loves his profession more than life, if he wants an engagement. Do famishing fish desire water ? Do drunkards want drink ? Do ducks swim ? Certainly. Then certainly do I jump at your proposal. Oh, Darrell, God bless you, if you secure me an engagement, whether it is to play Hamlet in a dime museum, or Uncle Tom to a nickel audience, I tell you before hand, I accept, I accept.

Darrell. Then, Macready, old boy, I'm going to make you awfully happy. What do you say to playing Mercutio at the Prince's Theatre, Liverpool ?

1.5

Macready. Liverpool, Liverpool, how in the devil am I to get to Liverpool ?

Darrell. I will advance you the money, you can repay it out of the first month's salary.

Macready. Darrell you are an angel, here on my knees I thank you. I am almost starving, and here you come, like a heavenly messenger, and proffer me a chance to get back again into the profession I love. And the salary is to be ?

Darrell. Fifty dollars a week. But come, you must have something to eat. I will send my girl in, you can order what you please. Make yourself at home, you shall be my guest until you sail for Liverpool and fame.

Macready. I have not words to thank you.

Darrell. No need, \_Aside.~] I will be amply repaid in the end. Now to work until he becomes as wax in my hands. [Exit.~] Macready. [Singing.']

So let the wide world jog as it will,

I'll be gay and happy still,

Gay and happy, gay and happy,

I'll be gay and happy still.

Well, this is the jolliest stroke of luck yet. Just to think, fifty dollars a week, and to play Mercutio, Mercutio, oh, Mercutio ! Won't 1 make the modern actors fret and fume with jealousy, when the house thunders with applause at the great death scene. Ah, Shakespeare surpassed himself when he tried to draw the character of Mercutio the merry fellow, and for that reason he kills him off in the third act. Right well I remember his last lines. Tybalt has stabbed him. Mercutio reels and gasps: "I am hurt.

A plague o' both the houses ! I am sped.

Is he gone, and hath nothing ? "

Then Benvolio inquires — "What, art thou hurt ? "

Mer. "Ay, ay, a scratch ; marry, 'tis enough.

Where is my page ? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon." Romeo. "Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be much."

Mer. " No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but, 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Romeo, thou hast been wont to call me a merry fellow. Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, 1 warrant, for this world . A plage o' both your house ! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death ; a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic ! Why, the devil, came you between us ? I was hurt under your arm."

Romeo. " I thought all for the best."

Mer. " Help me into some house, Benvolio,

Or I shall faint. A plage o' both your houses !

They have made worm's meat of me.

I have it, and soundly too : Your houses !

[Enter Zaidee as he finishes^

Zaidee. Say, old man, you got 'em bad !

Macready, Come hither, child, come hither.

Zaidee. Nixey, scare-crow, nixey, I'm afeerd o' you.

Macready. Fear me not, little one ; I may seem strange to your poor, finite mind, but I'm all right here. [Pointing to his hearty Though rny exterior be rough my interior is as smooth and placid as rippling brooklets flowing over nuggets of silver. Yes, yes, while my mind is decidedly eccentric, my heart is warm and generous.

Zaidee. Old man, I believe you. There's my hand on it. But, own up, you do look kinder crazy, now don't you ? 'Fess ?