Schoolday dialogues: a collection of original dialogues, colloquies, tableaux, etc., designed for school exhibitions, lyceums, literary societies, Sunday schools, temperance meetings, parlor entertainments, etc., etc

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Act I. Scene 1. — The ScJiool Boom

Teacher. — Boys, I have something to tell you after school, or rather, you must be prepared to hear something. I believe, however, that I had better not tell it.

Boys. — Oh, please, teacher, do tell us. What is it ?

Teacher. — No, I shall not tell you; but you shall hear it this afternoon, nevertheless. Now attend to your xgtudies. \^Goes on correcting exercises.^

Tom Jones [to Caleb']. — What a mum fellow our teacher is, to be sure ; isn't he ?

Caleb. — Yes ; he might as well out with it now.

Teacher. — Attend to your studies, boys. Are you talking ?

Tom. — No, teacher, only Charlie Stephens, he makes such a noise with his lips. [^Charlie looks confused, but does not speak.]

Teacher ^severely]. — Tom Jones, how often must I correct you in speaking? It is unnecessary to use the personal pronoun when you use the noun. A great boy like you — almost a man — should be more careful. Charles Stephens, you must make less noise studying; you disturb me.

Tom to [^Charlie]. — I'll be even with you for that lecture ; see if I don't.

Caleb. — Hide his old cap after school.

[Enter Mr. Howard. Mr. Wayne advances, and they shake hands. Boys rise.^

Mr. Howard. — I am pleased, Mr. Wayne, to see your school in such good order. Have you mentioned my proposition to j^our pupils ?

Teacher. — I have not, sir ; but merely intimated to them that they would hear something. I preferred leaving it to yourself. Boys, you know who this gentleman is?

Boys [all]. — Yes, sir ; Mr. Howard.

Mr. H. — Thank you, young gentlemen ; I am glad you remember me. [Boys bow.'] Your respected teacher tells me that he has prepared you to hear some particular news.

Boys. — Yes, sir.

Mr. H. — Well, I shall now proceed to tell you what it is. I am, as 3^011 may be aware, a great friend to education. [Boys bow.] Education, my young friends, is better than houses and lands — better than gold. But 'inental education, without moral, is worse than useless. The boy who possesses one without the other, may be compared to a man who has eyes, yet is blind ; who has ears, yet can not hear. Do you understand me ?

Boys. — Yes, sir.

Mr. H. — Yery well. Now, that you may learn to appreciate the value of moral education, I have determined to offer a gold eagle to that boy whose meritorious conduct best deserves a reward.

Boys. — Oh, thank you, sir ; you are very kind.

Mr. H. — Remember, boys, that you all can not get it ; but the trying for it will be an advantage in many ways. First, striving for this prize will beget in you a noble emulation. Secondly, you will, if you really desire to obtain it, practice many virtues — patience, self-denial, energy, etc. Thirdly, you will, in the pursuit of this pri^e, acquire a habit of perseverance, which alone will be worth many half eagles to you. Fourthly — I believe I have DO fourthly, except to say, that your term of probation will expire in one month from to-day — when T shall have the pleasure of bestowing a reward on tlie most deserving, amid, I trust, the approving smiles of his noble-minded companions. Good afternoon, j^oung gentlemen ; good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. [^ExiL^

Boys [^all together']. — Who'll get ii, I wonder? I mean to try. 1 don't; 'twould be no use. Ten dollars in gold — I wish I had it — etc.

Teacher. — Boys ; silence ! Is this rude clamor the beginning of your competition for a reward of merit ? Now act more like the gentlemen Mr. Howard calls you. As it wants but twenty minutes until the hour of dismissal, I shall let you off now. But tell me, who intends to gain the prize ? Tom Jones, do you ?

Tom. — No, sir ; I couldn't get it if I did try ; and, besides, old Howard is rich enough to have offered twenty dollars, and I call him stingy.

Boys. — Oh, shame ! he had no need to give it at all.

Teacher. — Thomas, I am astonished to hear you speak in such a disrespectful manner; but I hope you are not in earnest. Ned Burton, will you try ?

Ned. — Yes, sir ; and I'll get it, too.

Teacher. — Indeed ; how do you know ?

Ned. — Wh}^, I never tried for any thing I didn't get.

Tom. — You didn't get the book that master offered for that problem in algebra, and you tried for it.

Ned {_aside]. — I'll get satisfaction out of you, though; see if I don't.

Tom \_8neeringly']. — Well, maybe you'll get satisfaction ; but you wont get the ten dollars.

Teacher. — Charlie Stephens, will you get it, too ?

Charlie. — Oh! if I only could.

Teacher. — Why, what would you do with it ?

Tom [aside]. — Buy a little doll-bab3\

Teacher. — Answer, Charles ; what would you do ? \_Gliarles endeavors to speak, hut f alters, and turns away. Tom — behind teacher — places one arm across the other, pretending to dandle a baby ; sings softly, By-o-bahy ; buy a dolly with ten dollars. Boys laugh.]

Teacher \^musingly']. — I can not understand Charles Stephens. 1 would fancy he had some trouble if he were not too young. It must be only silly bashfulness, and I must cure him of it. Boys, what are you laughing at ?

Caleb. — Why, sir, Charlie looks so funny when he's crying; just like a girl.

Teacher Isternly^. — I do not see why a girl should look more funny than a boy. Charles, are you crying ?

Charlie. — No, sir; I am not crying.

Tom. — Only mighty near it.

Teacher. — Tom, I insist on your being silent, or, at least, you must cease these personal remarks. Because you have sense enough to be neither bashful nor vainglorious llooks at Charlie and Ned'], you should not tease those who are either. Now you can leave, boys ; and I wish you, each and all, to try for Mr. Howard's prize ; for if he be really pleased with you, his generosity will not be limited to this act ; but I must not tell any more. However, I hope you will all deserve it, though only one can get it. [^IJxeunt omnes.]

Scene 2. Immediately after Scene 1. — Boys at Flay

Tom Jones. — I wonder now who will get that te» dollars. I call it a mean trick not to give twenty. The old miser could afford it just as easy, and then 'twould be worth having, though not worth trying for, I say.

Caleb. — No, not worth trying for, I say, too ; but, Tom, you could get it, couldn't you ? Ten dollars arn't picked up in the street.

Tom. — Why couldn't you get it, if you are so anxious for it ?

Caleb. — Oh, Tom, 'twouldn't be any use for me to try. Old master doesn't think that much of me ; but you could wheedle it out of his own pocket, if 'twas only in, you're such a pet of his.

Tom. — No I aint, though.

Caleb. — Why, didn't you hear what he said to you when that cry-baby, Charlie, began to blubber ?

Tom. — Oh, vou want to gammon me now. I'm not quite that green, though. Here comes Burton now I'll teach him to brag.

Caleb. — Now don't, Tom ; master would be sure to hear of it. See what he says first.

Ned. — I say, Tom, let's have a game of foot-ball.

Tom \^aside\. — To be sure ! he''s trying for it in earnest \^Aloud.'] How about that satisfaction, Ned?

Ned. — Oh, hang the satisfaction [_aside'] till I get the prize.

Tom. — Well, I'll hang it, if you like. I see you're going in to win.

Ned [^indifferently.'] — No ; I needn't try. There's so man}'' better fellows in the school than I am. Besides, my father's rich, and I can get ten dollars any time I want it.

Tom. — You think you can !

Caleb [sidling up to Ned]. — Ned, I think you've about the smartest chance going. I'll tell master how you forgave Tom, after all his meanness, and 'twill stand in 3^our favor.

Ned. — Oh, go 'way. I don't want to have any thing to say to you.

Caleb [bitterly]. — You don't, don't you ? Well, maybe you'll come down yet, Ned Burton, for all 3^ou hold yourself so high. [Goes off by himself.]

Ned. — Where's that little girl, Charlie ? I guess heHl get it ; he never does any thing wrong ; oh, no, not he!

Tom. — I say, now, that's too bad. If a cry-baby, girl-boy, like Charlie Stephens, gets it, I'll leave school.

Several boys. — So will I. So will I.

Harry D. — And why may not Charlie get it, as well as any one else, if he deserves it ; and he wont get it unless he does deserve it.

Boys. — Oh, preacher I preacher I

Tom. — Maybe youHl get it, you think ?

Harry. — No, I'll not get it ; for I couldn't be the best; but I'm above joining in against a fellow that's not here to take his own part, and who is the best of us, anyway.

Tom. — Come now, Harry Dare, I like that ; m^ybe, since you're so ready to talk for the " one that's the best amongst us," you'll be williug to fight for him, too. You'll not say he would do that for himself, I guess.

Harry. — Yes, I'll fight for him as long as you please ; and I am a match for you, too, Tom Jones, big as you are. \_Puts himself in an attitude.^

Ned \_hastily2. — Oh, come now, boys, don't make fools of yourselves, fighting about a fellow^ who hasn't spirit enough to open his mouth.

Tom. — Well, I do not care about fighting, particularly ; let's sbake hands, Hal \_aHide']; Ned's bound to win ; how disappointed he is that we don't fight. 1 hate a hypocrite.

Caleb [approaching hastily']. — I say, boys ; oh, what I have to tell you I

All.— What? what?

Caleb. — Let me get breath — I shall die laughing. You know our girl ?

Boys. — No ; we don't know your girl. What about aer ?

Caleb. — You don't understand me. I mean the one ihat goes to our school — Charlie Stephens.

All. — Yes, yes ; go on.

Caletj. — Well, while you were talking, I saw him scuddin' across the field at a two-forty pace ; so, thinks I, I'll see what you^re up to. So I follows him a safe distance, or he'd a heard me.

Harry D. — Mean spy !

Caleb. — So, on I sneaks after him, slowly, slowly, till he came to that little, rickety, tumble-down hole of a hut, at the edge of the woods. So in there my gentleman goes. You know, none of us never could find out where he put up. So, my fine boy goes in ; and I sees a hole of a window at one side, so up I goes, giving him time to get seated to his piano, as I supposed, from his high and mighty airs. In I peeps, and there — oh, my, 1 can't tell you [laughing immoderately'].

Boys. — Come, telfus, Cale; go ahead with it.

Caleb. — It's too good ; I can't tell you.

Tom. — You'd bett'er, or I'll shake it out of you.

Harry D. — I'd like to shake his mean soul out of him. Caleb. — Well, here goes. Oh, gracious 1 I peeped in at the window, and there was king Charlie, with — what do you think ?

All.— What ? tell us what ?

Caleb. — With — oh, my I with a great, big, blue check ivoman^s apron on.

All. — Hurrah for Miss Charlie ; hurrah for the boy with a blue check woman's apron on. Gro on, go on, Cale.

Caleb. — Yes; oh, I'll die with laughter. I most burst, trying to keep in tliere.

Boys [iinpo.tienlhj']. — Well; what was he doing?

Caleb. — I'm coming to it. What do 3-ou think? — washing the dishes !

Boys. — Hurrah for the dish-washer!

One. — I'll tell my mother to hire him — she wants & gal.

Another. — 111 hire him myself. I'm going to housekeepmg.

Tom. — Xow, Harry, what do 3^ou say for your paragon ? I believe that's the word ; aint it ?

Harry \_aside; angrily']. — I did not think he was such a milksop. I'll let him go. \_Aloud']: why, perhaps, it wasn't him at all.

Boys. — Oh, now, that wont go down ; you know it was ; but go on, Caleb — tell us the rest ; did he wash thera clean ?

CALEB.-^It was the poorest kind of a place, I tell you. He was a standing at a little table, where he couldn't see me ; but I could see him. He was a washing away, and I heard something else — a woman — talking. Charlie was saying: " Motlier, don't you be tiring yourself washing little Alice ; when I'm done the pots, and pails, and kettles, I'll wash her, too; just you lean back in your chair and rest ;" and then the woman says : " No, Charlie, this doesn't tire me ; and you have your lessons to study, too, for you know I want you to keep your place." Now, wasn't that mean — just putting him up to keeping us out of our places ?

Tom. — I say, boys, let's go, after school to-morrow, and see Charlie washin' dishes. Say, shall we?

Boys. — Yes, yes; let's go.

Harry. — I, for one, will not go. I'm no eavesdropper nor spy.

Caleb. — Do you mean to say I am ?

Harry. — Yes.

\_Caleb slinks away. Approaches Tom, and in dumb

show, asks him to fight Harry.']

Tom. — No, no ; fight your own battles. I've enough

for me. Come, boys, let's go home, and dream we've

nabbed old Howard, and each got a ten dollar gold

piece, l^jceunt.]

Ned. — I'll go along to keep them in order; 'twill go hard with me, but I will win this reward ; pshaw, this ten dollars, I mean. With it, I can reach the city at last, and then good-bye to being a good boy. ^Exit slowly.]

End of first Act.

Act II. Scene 1. — Charlie sitting on a log at the edge of the woods, in a desponding attitude.

Charles. — No, I can not endure it any longer. I will leave school, though to do so, will be to give up all my bright dreams, all my cherished hopes ; for, poor boy though I am, I have dreams and hopes. Yes, I have dreamed of a time when I could support my dear mother and my little sister. \_Here Mr. Howard and Mr. Wayne approach, unperceived ; they see Charlie, and stop. Charlie continues.] When the education she has worked so hard to give me, might be made the medium and the evidence of my gratitude to her. I have hoped, but it is no use. For three weeks, my schoolmates have taunted and jeered me. Some way they have found out how I work, and every moment they can, they taunt me by sa,ying, " Polly, put the kettle on," or ask me if my dishcloth is clean, and the baby's face washed ? Oh ! if one of them had a sick mother, who still sewed day after day, and far into the night, how gladly 1 would help him with the w^ork he did to help her. 1 would not call him a girl-boy nor tantalize him ; but I must give it up. Mr. Ross will give me three dollars a week to mind his store, and I must take it. If I could only get that ten dollars, it would enable mother to take a rest, and then she would get well; but I need not think of it ; they are all against me, even Mr. Wayne. [^Bises, and exit slowly. Mr. Howard and Mr. Wayne look at each other.']

Mr. H.— Js that boy one of your pupils, Mr. Wayne ?

Mr. W. — He is, and he seems in great trouble.

Mr. H. — Yes, but it is such as can be easily remedied, I hope. What is it ?

Mr. W. — Well, really, Mr. Howard, I am half ashamed to say that I do not know. Charles Stephens has always been so reserved that I could not understand him, and I dislike any thing like secretiveness above all. I can forgive what to others might seem graver faults, if accompanied by an upright spirit. There's Tom Jones, for example ; he is heedless, often displays a spirit of rebellion, but still, he is so candid

Mr. H. [^interrupting']. — Excuse me, my dear sir, but I do not think that Tom Jones' candor, which may really be only a spirit of bravado, should extenuate the commission of the faults you mention. I happen to know something about him myself. As for this other boy, what faults do you find in him beside the reserve you so dislike ?

Mr. W. — I must say I can not find any fault with him except on that score — he is quiet, obedient, and studious.

Mr. H. [warmly]. — My dear sir, what more would you have ? We must not look for perfection in a school boy. I shall be satisfied with a very good one, for whose benefit I can expend a portion of my superfluous wealth. If I find such a one, I shall, as you know, aid him to prosecute his studies, enable him to enter college, give him a trade or profession, or the means of starting in business, as he may prefer, and if he prove worthy, be a friend to him for life. I am not an advocate for posthumous charities. The good I do now may be indefinitel}^ multiplied if my boy, when he grows up, should do tlie same for another, and he for a third, and so on.

Mr. W. — Yes, I see ; like Benjamin Franklin and his dollar, you would extend the sphere of your benevolence beyond j^our own time.

Mr. H. — I don't call it benevolence. I have more money than I need, or shall ever nse, and I was once a poor strugoling boy myself, who would have given tea years of his life for this chance that I offer, of an education.

Mr. W. — Well, Mr. Howard, I wish to assist you conscientiousl}'', therefore, I shall try and find out the secret of Charlie's reserve, and give him an equal chance with the rest, of profiting by your liberality.

Mr. H. — Do not misunderstand me ; it is the most meritorious wdio is to gain the reward, both the present slight one, and the future more valuable one, whether it be Tom Jones or Charles Stephens. But I would like you to find out the cause of his trouble, £uid let me know.

Mr. W. — I shall not fail to do^so. lExeunt.]

Scene 2. — The school-room. Boys standing around teacher.

Teacher. — Well, boys, the day after will be the day. Already I have seen the truth of Mr. Howard's assertion that though all can not gain the prize he has offered, yet all would be the better for trying. I think you have all been trying, for there is certainly the evidence of it in the increased subordination, and diligence of the greater number of 3- on, at least.

Ned B. — Well, teacher, I don't care so much for the prize, for, as you know, my father is yery rich ; but I would like to please you and Mr. Howard, who is so kind.

Harry D. — The hypocrite I

Teacher. — What did you mutter, Harry Dare ? Don't hesitate so ; answer me.

Ned. — Please, teacher, don't mind making him answer.

Teacher. — Why not ?

Ned. — I don't want him to be punished — or I .ion't mean that; but I do not care what is said of me, if I onl}^ have your approbation and that of my conscience.

Harry. — Now 1 will speak ; I said

Teacher. — Harry, be silent. Ned Burton, I should be sorry to think you did not merit the approval you speak of; but your words are almost too fair and good. Take care that 3'our actions correspond with them.

Harry. — Master, I will spea,k, at the risk of your displeasure. I said Ned Burton was a hypocrite, and I maintain it.

Teacher. — Can you prove what 3'ou assert ?

]S'ed. — No, sir, he can't ; he's no witnesses.

Harry [indignantly~\. — Witnesses ! my word is as good as yours.

Teacher. — Well, say what you have to say.

Harry. — Yesterday you blamed Charlie Stephens for not having written his Latin exercise, and when he said he had written it, but could not find it, you would scarcely believe it.

Teacher. — Yes, I remember ; go on. \_Ned appears agitated, hut says nothing.^

Harry. — At noon, to-da}^, I wished to get something from my portfolio. Ned Burton has one exactl}^ like mine. I went to my desk, and to my surprise saw the portfolio 0^2, instead of inside the desk. I opened it, and the first paper I saw was Charlie Stvsphens' exercise. Surprised at this, I turned over another leaf, when I saw at once the portfolio was not mine. I looked for the name, and found it to be Edward Burton. He has known of the exercise being there, for I have seen him looking all through his portfolio since then.

Teacher.^ — Edward, what have you to say to this charge ?

Ned. — Nothing, sir, except that it is false.

Harry. — Look in his portfolio.

Ned. — Yes, as you did, sneaking Paul Pry!

Harry. — I did not pry; your portfolio was on my desk, and I thought it was mine.

Ned. — Oh! yes, that's easily said.

Teacher. — Boys, cease this crimination and recrimination. An inspection of the portfolio will settle the question. Tom, bring it to me.

Ned. — No, sir, I deny your right to inspect my possessions. He shall not get it.

Teacher. — Shall not ! Do you sa}^ he shall not obey my commands ?

Ned. — Yes, sir, I sa}^ he shall not touch my propertj"

Teacher. — Tom, bring rue his portfolio.

[^Ned makes an effort to get it, hut is held by several hoys. Then assumes a defiant expression.']

Tom. — Here, sir.

^Teacher looks through the portfolio, and draws forth the lost exercise. Boys utter various sounds of astonishment and horror.]

Teacher [^sternly]. — Edward Burton, I am shocked and pained beyond expression, to find that one of my boys — one, too, whom I trusted, and who but to-day made professions so greatly at variance with such conduct — should be guilty of the great wrong of wilfully seeking to injure another, and adding to that wrong the grievous one of falsehood. You are dismissed from this school, and sorry I am to be compelled to say, that in your case there are no extenuating circumstances. In order to lessen the chance of another gaining an ofiered reward, you hesitate not to subject him to unjust censure, nor to expose him to the suspicion of falsehood. Charles, I regret my hasty action toward you ; as for you, Edward, you are no longer a pupil of mine, but if, after long reflection on your wicked conduct

Ned [interrupting]. — Oh, if you mean I'll want to come back, and beg pardon, and all that, you're very much mistaken, and as for your dismissal, why if I had only succeeded in getting old Howard's ten dollars, I intended to dismiss myself right oft*, for I am sick of this low school, where rowdies and dishwashers get all the favors. You wanted to find me out a villain, and now pretend to be sorry that 3^our scheme was successful.

Teacher. — Take your books, and depart ; I will hear no more.

[Ned collects hooks, etc., goes to the door, stops, and, with an ironical how, says :]

Ned. — Good-b3^ sir; I wish you joy of your excellent scholars and your liberal friends. [Exit.]

Scene 3. School Room. Mr. Howard and 3Ir. Wayne seated

Mr. H.— Well, sir, his mother, you say, appears to be delicate ?

Teacher. — Yes, sir ; it is my honest opinion that one year more of her present existence would terminate it.

Mr. H. — And she says that, but for this son, she could not manage to get along?

Teacher. — Yes ; Charles has, when freed from his school duties, earned, on an average, from one to twc dollars a week by doing various little services for the farmers living about here, particularly, carrying messages, an office in which he is invaluable ; they say, he never makes a mistake, never requires to be told twice, and is alwaj^s punctual and prompt.

Mr. H. — 1 tliink more of his assisting his mother in her housework, for that shows a spirit which is above false pride, a quality I detest. So many boys are ruined by the pernicious idea that it is degrading to do aught that seems, to their perverted view, umoomanly. A want of manliness is degrading ; but few of the young understand that true manliness consists in doing our duty, whatever it may be, unmoved by the sneers of others. But, I say, Mr. Wayne, I am a pretty good judge of human nature, or boy nature, am I not?

Mr. W. — I must say, you are, sir. Your penetration in this case was greater than mine.

Mr. H. — Ah, ha ! I thought you would agree to that. Well, time is nearly up ; and now be sure to tell the boys every thing ; that is, tell them all about Charlie's devotion to his mother ; but do not, of course, say any thing of my intention to provide for his mother and sister until he is able to do so himself

Mr. W. — I shall attend to it, sir.

\_Enter boys. They bow to Mr. Howard and teacher, and stand in order.~\

Teacher. — Well, boys, this afternoon will decide which of you will obtain the reward offered for good conduct by your kind friend, Mr. Howard ; a reward, which, as 1 intimated, will not stop at the sum of money offered to-da3^ Take your seats.

Mr. H. — No, young gentlemen, the one who is proved most worthy shall receive substantial and lasting evidence of my good-will. Your teacher tells me that you have, with one exception, appeared actuated by a desire to improve. I trust this improvement will continue, and I shall feel a pride and pleasure in continuing- the warm friend to education, as manifested in this school, that I ♦always have been. Mr. Wayne, will you proceed ?

Teacher. — As Mr. Howard has said, I have been l)leased to see a decided improvement in many of you, and all of you have merited in different degrees. I have, however, already decided upon the one, who, judged by his actions in school and out of it, has best deserved the prize. ]^Sensation among the 6oi/.s'.] But, before announcing his name, I shall first tell you a little story. Not very far from your school house there is a little cottage, in which dwell a widow and her two children. These children, the elder of whom is a boy, she has supported by the constant and untiring, though not altogether unaided labor of her hands. The aid she has had was given by her son, in the intervals of his school duties. But I should have said that this poor woman has contrived to keep her son constantly at school, hoping that the education he thus acquired would be the means of enabling him to support her when she could no longer provide for him. He assisted her in various ways, earning now and then a little money, but most of all in her housework. \_Boyii appear surprised.'] Yes, young gentlemen, though you may think it derogatory to the dignit}^ of a boy, it seems he did not. His mother, whose health was enfeebled by her efforts in behalf of her children, would have sunk long ago had not her tasks been lightened by Jier devoted assistant, who took upon himself the hardest, as well as the most menial, duties of the household. It is unnecessary for me to enumerate in detail all that he did. Although his schoolmates had frequently ridiculed his sensitive and retiring disposition, they went no further, until, by some unfortunate, and, I fear, underhand means, they discovered his mode of spending the hours given by them to pla^'. From that moment there was no more peace for him. At e^^ry opportunity, he was saluted by such terms as dish-washer, baby-tender, and similar ones. This became at last so unendurable that he resolved to quit the school, and take a situation in a store. Against this dete^'mination his love of knowledge and his mother's wishes both contended, and in the end prevailed. That you may not under-estimate the heroism of his course — for heroism it certainly Avas — in thus continuing to en dure the taunts and jeers of his school-fellows, I shalL merely say, that his sensitiveness is so great that, on one occasion, being unjustly and harshly accused of a fault, he was unable to defend himself, and only chance revealed the truth. This boy, whose true manliness enabled him to endure contempt and ridicule, rather than swerve from the path of duty, is, I need scarcely add, one of your own companions; and to him is adjudged the prise, with, I hope, your approval.