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DA LEETLA BOY.
T. A. DALY.
[Copyright, 1906, by T. A. Daly. By permission, from “Canzoni," published by
Catholic Standard and Times Publishing Co.)
A spreeng ees com’; but O! da joy
Eet ees too late!
He no could wait.
An' cover up da leetla pot
Da spreeng ees com’; but O! da joy
Eet ees too late!
He no could wait.
BILLY DESCRIBES AN OPERA.
COMEDY MONOLOGUE FOR MAN.
WILLIAM J. KOUNTZ. CHARACTERS: BILLY, countryman, speaker present; Jim, sup
posed to be present. COSTUME: Everyday suit with large straw liat. SCENE: BILLY is walking along street when he meets JIM. TES, Jim, I'm back again and say, Jim, I've seen the operayes,
and say, Jim, should any one ever tell you that grand opera is all right he is either trying to even up or he is not a true friend. The folks made me go with them to “Die Walküre” at the Metropolitan Opera House. When I got the tickets I asked the man's advice as, to the best location. He said that all true lovers of music occupied the dress-circles and balconies, and that he had some good center dress-circle seats at three bones per. Here's a tip, Jim. If the box-man ever hands you that true-lover game just reach in through the little hole and soak him for me. It's coming to him. I'll give you my word of honor we were a quarter of a mile from the stage. We went up in an elevator, were shown to our seats, and who was right behind us but my old pal, Bud Hathaway, from Chicago. Bud had his two sisters with him, and he gave me one sad look which said plainer than words, “So you're up against it too, eh?” He introduced all hands around, and about nine o'clock the curtain went up. After we had waited fully ten minutes, out came a big, fat, greasy-looking dago, with nothing on but a bear robe. He went over to the side of the stage and sat down on a fake rock. It was plainly to be seen, even from my true-lover's seat, that his bearlets was sorer than a dog about somethingPresently in came a woman, and none of the true lovers seem to know who she was. Some said it was Melba, others Nordica. Bud and I decided it was May Irwin. As soon as Mike, the dago, espied the dame it was all off. He rushed and drove a straight-arm jab, which, had it reached, would have given him the purse. But Shifty Sadie wasn't there. She ducked, sidestepped, and landed a clever half-arm hook which seemed to stun the big fellow. They clinched, and swayed back and forth, growling continually, while the orchestra played that trembly Elizacrossing-the-ice music. All of a sudden someone seemed to win. They broke away, and ran wildly to the front of the stage with their arms outstretched, yelling to beat three of a kind. The band cut loose something fierce. The leader tore out about nine dollars' worth of hair and acted generally as though he had bats in his belfry. I thought sure the place would be pinched. Of course, this audience was perfectly orderly, and showed no intention whatever of cutting in, and there were no chairs or glasses in the air. I asked Bud what the trouble was, and he answered that I could search him. The audience apparently went wild. Everybody said, “Simply sublime !" "Isn't it grand ?” “Perfectly superb!” “Bravo!" etc., not because they really enjoyed it, but merely because they thought it was the proper thing to do. After that for three solid hours Rough-House Mike and Shifty Sadie seemed to be apologizing to the audience for their disgraceful street-brawl, which was honestly the only good thing in the show. Along about twelve o'clock I thought I would talk over old times with Bud, but when I turned his way I found my trusted comrade “Asleep at the Switch !”
At the finish the woman next to me, who seemed to be on, said that the main lady was dying. After it was too late Mike seemed kind of sorry. He must have given her the knife or the drops, because there wasn't a minute that he could look in on her according to the rules. He laid her out on the fake rock, they set off a lot of red fire for some unknown reason, and the curtain dropped at twelve-twenty-five. Never again for my money. Far be it from me knocking, but any time I want noise I'll take to a boilershop or a Union station, where I can understand what's coming off. I'm for a good mother show. Do you remember “The White Slave,” Jim? Well, that's me. Wasn't it immense where the main lady spurned the villain's gold, and exclaimed with flashing eye, "Rags are royal raiment?”
That's the show for me-once an opera-never again-goodbye, old chap-good-bye.
ANTHONY H. EUWER.
ISTRESS Marjorie Mildred McGrether,
Whither away o'er the blooming leather,
TIT FOR TAT.
PANTOMIMED SONG FOR ONE COUPLE OR FOR SEVERAL COUPLES.
[May also be given as a Musical Recitation.)
PANTOMIME BY MAE R. PERKINS.
"If you cross the hill, by my father's mill,” [Girl runs on stage; laughing expression. Points with R. hand back oblique to “mill," and with L. hand to self, meaning "my father's mill.”]
“And walk along the fields about a mile," [Daintily lift dress with thumb and finger of R. hand, and take several steps across stage R., then face front and with hands parallel, sides to earth, describe distance of a mile.]
"By the willow copse, where the pathway stops," [Walk back to C., at same time carry R. prone hand back and forth in front of body; on "stops" bring hand down in gesture of affirmation.]
"You'll find a very high and awkward stile;" [With R. prone hand show height of stile.]
“It has four high steps, so widely set," [Show steps by moving R. hand horizontally at four different heights and carrying each one a little farther back so as to represent stile. Show width of steps by holding hands parallel and about eighteen inches apart, nod head in affirmation.]
“To cross it by myself I am afraid;" [Daintily grasp skirt, lift foot as though to climb steps, then shrink back as in fear.]
“I never dare that way repair," [Shake head "no"; point to stile.]
“Unless at hand I've strong and friendly aid.”