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[Throws back shoulders and raises a saucy chin.]
Huccome I looks mo’ higher in dis yere veil? [Wonders aloud.] Wisht I'se real high like y'all. I'se awful lowly fer m' size, ain't I? Yass’m. I git m' lowliness f'um m’ mammy ’n’ mugliness f’um m' paw_he's awful big featured.
[Picks up skirt and rubs cheek violently with skirt.] Look a' dat, Miss Allie, how rosy dat makes m' cheeks. I wants 'em ť look like dat when I gits married. I'll fix m’ hair real nice, too—like y'alls. Y’reckon dey's anyt'ing mo' pow'-fuller den alcohol fer ť put on yer hair ť make it lay down?
[Gases long into mirror as if sizing up good points.] Try on de dress, too?
[Comes back with start as if barely understanding what
is being said.] No'm, I ain' gwine keep y'all out'n y bed no longer, Miss Honey.
[Gathers up belongings, talking all the time as follows:]
Mr. Smif, he's comin' Sunday night fer t bring me some gif's, ’n’ I'se gwine dress up fer ’im. I'll show y'all 'fore I goes down. Wants Mr. Smif t see how his 'fianced wife goin' look-yass’m, dat's what he call me—'fianced wife. He's been raised good, Mr. Smif has, ’n’ it seems like he's jes' natch’ul-born fer R use dem kind o' words. He's gwine bring me a yaller watch wid a long
’ chain fer m' neck, ’n’ a pair o'white gloves, ’n’dese yere sidecombs like y’alls, wid little stones in fer m’hair. He done ax me what all I wants, an' I couldn't think o' nuffin' mo' dat time. Miss Allie [shyly as she slowly moves to doorway], I wisht y'all had a feller! I'se gwine ax de Lawd fer t’ raise one up fer y'alls like he done fer little me. Yassam, I is, Miss Allie-I is. [Nods head and exits. ]
COMEDY IRISH-DIALECT MONOLOGUE FOR WOMAN.
S. E. COOPER.
CHARACTER REPRESENTED : IRISH Widow, speaker present.
and moves down to stage front.
kape sthill a bit an' let me tell ye.
Now, ye see, there's Michael Ryan, me cousin in the owld country, him as married Nora Mulligan, his own first cousin by the mither's side, an' so no kin to meself; an' she died a twelvemonth ago—-saints rist her sowl—an' left him a houseful of beautiful childer, an' himself a widde man.
Well, ye see, Mike had come courtin' me before he married Nora, an' whin I towld him I was bespoke by Mr. Flinn, he married her in a wake, an' soon as she was well dead, then he writes me a letter, an’sends me the beautifulest two dollars ye iver clapped yer two eyes on. An' he says to me, “Katie darlin' » -indade that's just what he called me, an' I can show it to ye on the letter—“Katie darlin',” says he, “I would like to be afther knowin' how you've prospered; have ye good health?—are ye lookin' owld? How many childer have ye? an' did Mr. Flinn"that's me husband that's dead, saints rist his sowl-"did Mr. Flinn leave ye any money? an' would ye like to be comin' back to the owld country?”
Now, thinks I, by this last he's got intintions, an' bein' but a woman, it was me duty to make him think the best of me possible; an', bein' modest like, I couldn't tell him I didn't look a day owlder than whin I left the owld country, twenty years ago comin' next Michaelmas, an' that I weighed about two hundred; so, thinks I, I'll get me pictur taken an' I'll pay for it with his own two dollars, an’ I'll sind it to him an' he can see for his ownself; an' as fur the childer Mr. Flinn did leave me, an' the money he didn't leave me, he will have to find out.
Well, there was Mary McCarty, me nabor, had a pictur taken fur her swateheart; an’, thinks I, I'll ax her would she go wid me an' then I'll not feel so lonesome like. An' she said, “Wid pleasure," an' afther I'd been there I understood that same.
Well, whin she come in all ready to go, I axed her would she pin up me polenais, the green one I made of me weddin?-dress, an' says she:
“Mistress Flinn, if I were a woman of your proportions I wouldn't bunch it up so"; and then I knowed it was jealous she was, bein' but a rail herself, an' I said, “Maybe ye wouldn't be seen in the street with a woman of my proportions, an' ye'd better sthay at home, an' I'll go by me loneself.” Well, with that in comes Jamsie, one of me boys—an' says he, “Mother, where'r ye goin'?” An' said I, “To git me pictur taken,” an' says he, “Did ye sind the photygraph man a posthold card to tell him ye were comin'?” “An',” said I, "whatfore should I do that?" An' said he, “Be
“ cause if ye did, he would be packed up wid his camera an be moved out.” An' said I, “Fur why should he do that, Jamsie?” “Because,” said he, "he would know the minute ye would look into it ye would break it all into smitherenes.”
Wid that I picked up the poker, an' says I, “Hunt yerself out of me prisence or I'll break ye into smitherenes.”
Well, I walked into town, a matter of about four miles, an' I clim' up about ten pair of stairs an' at the top of the last one I meets the smiliest young gintleman. An' says he, “The top of the mornin' to ye, mam; it's a warm day; an’ what can I be afther doin' fer ye?” An' says I, “Can I git a picture taken fur two dollars ?” An' says he, “Yes, six or a half dozen of them.” An' says I, "Do you think green"--manin' my dress—“will green
take a good pictur?" An' says he a-smilin' an'a-bowin' in me face, "Is it Imerald ye mane? Yis, I think it will take a good pictur.”
An' then said he, “Is it a bust yer wantin'?” Then I thinks sure enough, Jamsie had written him a posthold card an' towld him of the bit of a spree I was on last week wid Mary McCarty, but I kept to me pride, an' said I, “No, sir, it's a pictur. If I do take a friendly sup wid a nabor, that's no sign I'd go on a bust wid a strange gintleman.” Well, wid that he laughed till he had to sit down, an' whin he could spake, he towld me it was the shape of the picture he meant.
"Now," said he, “I must sit ye.” So he put me into a chair, an' he took me two hands so tinderly in his, an' he lay one in me lap an' the other on a wee table by me side, an' then he put a machine at the back of me neck, like a short pair of tongs, an' tówld me to rist agin' it.
Then he put one hand on the top of me heed an' he chucked me under the chin wid the other, an' he turned up me face, an' me heart jumped into me mouth, an' I shut me eyes, but he only towld me to look at a bit of card he stuck on a stick ferninst me.
Well, then he goes behind a tall table, an' he covered his head wid a black table-cloth, an' he paped out at me. I blushed an' covered me face wid me pocket-handkerchief, an' he laughed an' said he would have to sit me over; an’ he did it all over agin.
Well, I'll niver tell ye all the botheration he went to wid that box, an' by an' by he went into a closet an' left me, an' then he comes out a-smilin' an' bowin' an' says:
"All right, ma'm, an' now I'll take yer two dollars." So I gives it to him an' he puts it in his pocket; and then says I, "If ye plaze, I'll take me pictur," an', says he, "Oh, no ma’m, not for a fortnight,” an', says I, “Is it a decoy yer makin' to git me back agin ?” an' says he, “Indade no, ma'm, but I'll send it to ye.” Then I knowed he wanted to write me a letter an' I said no more.
An' sure, now, I think it's in love I am, fur ever since that blessed day me heart's been achin' so tinderly that I can not get a wink of sleep wid the pleasure of the pain.
TRIALS OF A SCHOOL-GIRL.
Lou BOYCE HAYDEN.
M mad! I am, you needn't scowl
“I am surprised that you should look
So cross on this fine day!” I'm always getting into scrapes
That some one else has planned, Why Kitty Smith is never caught
I just can't understand.
She draws such funny pictures,
Then holds them up to me, And when I can't help laughing,
The teacher's sure to see.
Of course, she thinks that I'm to blame,
For Kitty looks so sweet,
But sugar plums to eat.
And when I turned my head,
And then sarcastic said-
“Mame never leads a class in school,
I know the reason why”—
I most wished I could die.
And oh, such dreadful lessons !
Now tell me if you know, Just what's the use of learning
'Bout things that isn't so?