TABLEAUX FOR PUBLIC ENTERTAINMENTS.

Maiden.—Loose, white robe, wing-like sleeves, displaying arm; hair long, loose, and flowing over shoulders.

A large post in centre of stage, around which are piled fagots. Fastened to the post by means of a chain around the waist stands the maiden, with eyes cast upward, and the whole attitude that of exaltation. A strong red light suddenly thrown upon the lower part of the picture, from both sides, will produce the effect of ignited wood.

Music, if any, triumphant.

Winter.—Black, loose dress to the feet, fur cap, white wig, and long white beard; dress flecked with bits of cotton, to represent snow; face full and florid. The part may be taken by a lady.

Spring.—Trailing loose dress of white, sleeves draped so as to show arm to elbow; scarf and sash of pink; long, flowing, yellow hair; sprays of roses and other flowers gracefully fastened on the dress; wealth of flowers on the head.

Spring is seated on a chair, over which may be thrown a covering of white or pink, upon which are scattered profusely sprays of flowers. She holds at her side a golden sceptre.

Winter is seated in the lap of Spring holding extended in his right hand a sceptre of black.

The scene is a parlor.—Standing in the foreground is a young girl, simply dressed. In her left hand she has a rose, and holding out her right hand shows to her companion the scratches made by the thorns (a little carmine paint, put on with a fine camel’s-hair pencil, makes very painless scratches.) Her companion, a young man dressed as a mechanic’s apprentice (a carpenter’s, butcher’s, shoemaker’s or any other trade), is, with a look of sympathy, raising the wounded hand to his lips. Behind the young man stands his employer, with an expression of rage, raising a rope about to strike the apprentice. He is not perceived by either of the young people.

In the background is a child, with a look of great glee, putting its fingers into a jar, marked jam, while the mother, behind the child, is raising her hand to box its ears.

It hardly needs description. A background of dark brown gauze, very faintly lighted at the upper right-hand corner; a dress of black serge or stuff, with black veil and white coif; a crucifix and rosary—these are the very simple materials needed. Let the light fall from the left-hand upper corner in front. Choose your nun for the beauty of her eyes, the regularity and refinement of feature, and the elegance of her hands.

Characters.

Poet.—A young man with long hair and wide linen collar turned down over coat collar.

Statue.—Personated by a young woman in white, with arms bare.

(The Poet speaks.)Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,O marble presence, cold and fair.I cannot draw my feet past theeWithin thy niche above the stair.I found thee in a mossy cave—The entrance to a buried shrine;The rocks around a shudder gaveAs thence I bore my prize divine.What master wrought thee long ago—Who but Pygmalion’s scholar apt?The rose upon thy cheek of snowOfttimes he saw in vision rapt.The day upspringing in thine eyeHe fancied now, and now it seemedA hovering smile, a gradual sigh,Thy lips from silence dead redeemed;But, dying ere the moment ripeWhen thou should’st gather vital fire,He left thee, a half-conscious typeOf Love and Love’s unvoiced desire.Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,O marble presence, cold and fair!Now let thy prisoned soul be free,Thy breast its long-sealed fate declare.(The Statue speaks.)Thou troublest me, thou troublest me!A thousand years unused to speech,Why should the charm dissolve for thee,Or why to thee my secret teach?Not Paros, nor Pentelicus,E’er held me in its quarried hill;Nor master’s chisel carved me thus,With lofty thought and patient skill.Ah, surely, not Pygmalion’s handUnprisoned me, through loving art—I, who in marble moveless stand,Once held quick veins and pulsing heart;Love, changed to hate, wrought this cold changeI froze beneath his bitter eye;Love, changed to Hate—transformer strange—Forbade me live, forbade me die!Thou troublest me, thou troublest me;No further question; go thy way!He, only, who could set me free,Hath long since crumbled back to clay!Thy soul in peace if thou would’st save,And give forgetfulness to mine,Restore me to that mossy cave,The entrance to a buried shrine!Edith M. Thomas.

(The Poet speaks.)

Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,O marble presence, cold and fair.I cannot draw my feet past theeWithin thy niche above the stair.

Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,

O marble presence, cold and fair.

I cannot draw my feet past thee

Within thy niche above the stair.

I found thee in a mossy cave—The entrance to a buried shrine;The rocks around a shudder gaveAs thence I bore my prize divine.

I found thee in a mossy cave—

The entrance to a buried shrine;

The rocks around a shudder gave

As thence I bore my prize divine.

What master wrought thee long ago—Who but Pygmalion’s scholar apt?The rose upon thy cheek of snowOfttimes he saw in vision rapt.

What master wrought thee long ago—

Who but Pygmalion’s scholar apt?

The rose upon thy cheek of snow

Ofttimes he saw in vision rapt.

The day upspringing in thine eyeHe fancied now, and now it seemedA hovering smile, a gradual sigh,Thy lips from silence dead redeemed;

The day upspringing in thine eye

He fancied now, and now it seemed

A hovering smile, a gradual sigh,

Thy lips from silence dead redeemed;

But, dying ere the moment ripeWhen thou should’st gather vital fire,He left thee, a half-conscious typeOf Love and Love’s unvoiced desire.

But, dying ere the moment ripe

When thou should’st gather vital fire,

He left thee, a half-conscious type

Of Love and Love’s unvoiced desire.

Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,O marble presence, cold and fair!Now let thy prisoned soul be free,Thy breast its long-sealed fate declare.

Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,

O marble presence, cold and fair!

Now let thy prisoned soul be free,

Thy breast its long-sealed fate declare.

(The Statue speaks.)

Thou troublest me, thou troublest me!A thousand years unused to speech,Why should the charm dissolve for thee,Or why to thee my secret teach?

Thou troublest me, thou troublest me!

A thousand years unused to speech,

Why should the charm dissolve for thee,

Or why to thee my secret teach?

Not Paros, nor Pentelicus,E’er held me in its quarried hill;Nor master’s chisel carved me thus,With lofty thought and patient skill.

Not Paros, nor Pentelicus,

E’er held me in its quarried hill;

Nor master’s chisel carved me thus,

With lofty thought and patient skill.

Ah, surely, not Pygmalion’s handUnprisoned me, through loving art—I, who in marble moveless stand,Once held quick veins and pulsing heart;

Ah, surely, not Pygmalion’s hand

Unprisoned me, through loving art—

I, who in marble moveless stand,

Once held quick veins and pulsing heart;

Love, changed to hate, wrought this cold changeI froze beneath his bitter eye;Love, changed to Hate—transformer strange—Forbade me live, forbade me die!

Love, changed to hate, wrought this cold change

I froze beneath his bitter eye;

Love, changed to Hate—transformer strange—

Forbade me live, forbade me die!

Thou troublest me, thou troublest me;No further question; go thy way!He, only, who could set me free,Hath long since crumbled back to clay!

Thou troublest me, thou troublest me;

No further question; go thy way!

He, only, who could set me free,

Hath long since crumbled back to clay!

Thy soul in peace if thou would’st save,And give forgetfulness to mine,Restore me to that mossy cave,The entrance to a buried shrine!

Thy soul in peace if thou would’st save,

And give forgetfulness to mine,

Restore me to that mossy cave,

The entrance to a buried shrine!

Edith M. Thomas.

(This beautiful tableau may be represented in three or four scenes, with fine dress effect.)

Cinderella meanly clad, the sisters and Prince in costliest attire. One of the sisters is eagerly bent on forcing her foot into the slipper.

A very large shoe, which she has just vacated, is on the floor beside her. The other, her face and attitude showing keenest disappointment, has just put on her shoe. These shoes, while nicely made, should be the largest that can be had. The slipper may be of white satin, small and handsome.

Cinderella, having begged permission to try on the slipper, has just seated herself, withdrawn her shoe and placed a dainty foot on the cushion beside the slipper. The sisters give her a scornful and reproachful look.

Cinderella, having put on the slipper, has just drawn from her pocket its mate. The sisters, bewildered and dumfounded, have thrown themselves at her feet. This scene makes a fitting conclusion to the performance, and the next two scenes should not be attempted unless the appliances are at hand to make Cinderella imagination’s richest queen.

The fairy has touched her clothes with the magic wand, and Cinderella has become a being of marvelous beauty. Her gorgeous splendor dazzles the eyes of the Prince. She helps her sisters to their feet, and shows, as before, no resentment for past insult.

Cinderella and the Prince, arm in arm, prepare to leave the stage, followed by the sisters.

The scene is a parlor.—In the foreground are two young girls, one of whom holds a miniature out to the other, who puts it aside, with an expression of angry contempt. The first girl is laughing heartily, and pointing her finger at the second, as if teasing her about the picture.

Peeping out from behind a window-curtain is a young man, who, with an expression of perfect rage, is shaking his fist at the ladies.

IN MANILA BAY

COMIN’ THRO’ THE RYE

REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES DICKENS1. THE BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES DICKENS, COMMERCIAL ROAD, PORTSEA. 2. THE “DARK COURT” IN FLEET STREET, (JOHNSON’S COURT) WHERE DICKENS POSTED HIS FIRST SKETCH. 3. THE HOUSE IN FURNIVAL’S INN WHERE “PICKWICK” WAS WRITTEN. 4. CHARLES DICKENS EDITING “HOUSEHOLD WORDS.” 5. THE CHURCH IN WHICH DICKENS WAS MARRIED, ST. LUKE’S, CHELSEA. 6. GAD’S HILL PLACE, ROCHESTER, THE NOVELISTS’ LAST HOME. 7. THE MOAT, ROCHESTER CASTLE, WHERE DICKENS DESIRED TO BE BURIED.

REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES DICKENS

1. THE BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES DICKENS, COMMERCIAL ROAD, PORTSEA. 2. THE “DARK COURT” IN FLEET STREET, (JOHNSON’S COURT) WHERE DICKENS POSTED HIS FIRST SKETCH. 3. THE HOUSE IN FURNIVAL’S INN WHERE “PICKWICK” WAS WRITTEN. 4. CHARLES DICKENS EDITING “HOUSEHOLD WORDS.” 5. THE CHURCH IN WHICH DICKENS WAS MARRIED, ST. LUKE’S, CHELSEA. 6. GAD’S HILL PLACE, ROCHESTER, THE NOVELISTS’ LAST HOME. 7. THE MOAT, ROCHESTER CASTLE, WHERE DICKENS DESIRED TO BE BURIED.

FRANCIS WILSON“It was all about a—ha! ha! and a—ho! ho! ho!—well really;It is—he! he! he!—I never could begin to tell you.”(A Fine Study of Mirth)

FRANCIS WILSON

“It was all about a—ha! ha! and a—ho! ho! ho!—well really;It is—he! he! he!—I never could begin to tell you.”

(A Fine Study of Mirth)

THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT—Suggestion for a Tableau

CHARACTERS AND COSTUMES SUGGESTED FOR CHILDREN IN JUVENILE ENTERTAINMENTS

JOSEPH JEFFERSON and BLANCHE BENDER in “Rip Van Winkle.”(Suggestion for Tableau.)

JOSEPH JEFFERSON and BLANCHE BENDER in “Rip Van Winkle.”

(Suggestion for Tableau.)

INDIAN COSTUME—Suggestion for a Tableau

THE SICK CHILD.(Suggestion For Tableau.)“Jessie tired, mamma; good-night, papa; Jessie see you in the morning.”

THE SICK CHILD.

(Suggestion For Tableau.)

“Jessie tired, mamma; good-night, papa; Jessie see you in the morning.”

AN OLD TIME TEA(Suggestion for Tableau)

AN OLD TIME TEA

(Suggestion for Tableau)

CHERRY RIPE, RIPE, RIPE, I CRY,FULL AND FAIR ONES—COME AND BUY!

CHERRY RIPE, RIPE, RIPE, I CRY,

FULL AND FAIR ONES—COME AND BUY!

A STUDY IN ATTITUDES

THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY(Suggestion For Tableau)

THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY

(Suggestion For Tableau)

RECITATION IN COSTUMEWHOEVER WOULD BRING DOWN HER GAME,MUST STRING HER BOW AND TAKE SURE AIM.

RECITATION IN COSTUME

WHOEVER WOULD BRING DOWN HER GAME,MUST STRING HER BOW AND TAKE SURE AIM.

WHOEVER WOULD BRING DOWN HER GAME,

MUST STRING HER BOW AND TAKE SURE AIM.

A LITTLE CHILD’S PRAYER.(Suggestion For Tableau.)“Jesus I would be like thee,Look from heaven and pity me.Though so full of sin I am,Make me now thy little lamb.”

A LITTLE CHILD’S PRAYER.

(Suggestion For Tableau.)

“Jesus I would be like thee,Look from heaven and pity me.Though so full of sin I am,Make me now thy little lamb.”

“Jesus I would be like thee,

Look from heaven and pity me.

Though so full of sin I am,

Make me now thy little lamb.”

NOBODY’S CHILD(Suggestion for Tableau)“All day I wander to and froHungry and shivering and nowhere to goOh! Why does the wind blow upon me so wild?Is it because I’m nobody’s child?”

NOBODY’S CHILD

(Suggestion for Tableau)

“All day I wander to and froHungry and shivering and nowhere to goOh! Why does the wind blow upon me so wild?Is it because I’m nobody’s child?”

“All day I wander to and fro

Hungry and shivering and nowhere to go

Oh! Why does the wind blow upon me so wild?

Is it because I’m nobody’s child?”

SHE HAD SO MANY CHILDREN SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO

THEY TELL ME I MUST DO IT JUST SO,I WONDER IF THEY THINK THAT I DON’T KNOW.

THEY TELL ME I MUST DO IT JUST SO,

I WONDER IF THEY THINK THAT I DON’T KNOW.

OUR GREAT GRANDPARENTS WERE ONCE YOUNG, TOO,AND THIS IS THE WAY THEY USED TO DO.

OUR GREAT GRANDPARENTS WERE ONCE YOUNG, TOO,

AND THIS IS THE WAY THEY USED TO DO.

“I’M NOT QUITE SURE I’LL TAKE YOU FOR MY MAID;”“WELL NOBODY ASKED YOU TO,” SHE SAID.

“I’M NOT QUITE SURE I’LL TAKE YOU FOR MY MAID;”

“WELL NOBODY ASKED YOU TO,” SHE SAID.

HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS THE PIANO

GENERAL WHEELER AT SANTIAGO

ALAS, HOW LIGHT A CAUSE MAY MOVEDISSENSION BETWEEN HEARTS THAT LOVE

ALAS, HOW LIGHT A CAUSE MAY MOVE

DISSENSION BETWEEN HEARTS THAT LOVE

“Out swept the squadrons, fated three hundredInto the battle-line steady and full;”

“Out swept the squadrons, fated three hundred

Into the battle-line steady and full;”

ORIENTAL COSTUME

A FRENCH DANCER—SHOWING REVOLVING SKIRTPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

A FRENCH DANCER—SHOWING REVOLVING SKIRT

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

RECITATION IN COSTUMEPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

RECITATION IN COSTUME

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean,The home of the brave and the free.

Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean,

The home of the brave and the free.

PLEASING ENTRANCE IN A SPIRITED DIALOGUE

SONG OF THE FLOWER GIRLPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

SONG OF THE FLOWER GIRL

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

THE DANCING LESSON

READY FOR THE OPENING SONG

THE BOY THAT LAUGHS

THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING

BRYANT. IRVING. WHITTIER. COOPER.

BYRON. TENNYSON. SCOTT. SHELLEY.

EDWARD EVERETT. BRET HARTE. H. W. LONGFELLOW. J. G. HOLLAND. R. H. STODDARD.

H. B. STOWE. ALICE CARY. ELIZ. PHELPS WARD.

With her waves of golden hairFloating free,Hilda ran along the shore,Gazing oft the waters o’er;And the fishermen replied:“He will come in with the tide,”As they saw her golden hairFloating free!

With her waves of golden hair

Floating free,

Hilda ran along the shore,

Gazing oft the waters o’er;

And the fishermen replied:

“He will come in with the tide,”

As they saw her golden hair

Floating free!

THE NEW COOK.“‘Will you iver be done wid your graneness,’ she axed me wid a loud scrame.”

THE NEW COOK.

“‘Will you iver be done wid your graneness,’ she axed me wid a loud scrame.”

“DO YOU KNOW ME NOW?”PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

“DO YOU KNOW ME NOW?”

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

“I’VE PUT THE SOUL OF LAUGHTER IN MY FACE.”PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

“I’VE PUT THE SOUL OF LAUGHTER IN MY FACE.”

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

A PASSING SALUTEPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

A PASSING SALUTE

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

“SOCIETY IS QUICK TO TRACETHE MAGIC OF A PLEASING FACE”

“SOCIETY IS QUICK TO TRACE

THE MAGIC OF A PLEASING FACE”

THE MASK REMOVEDPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

THE MASK REMOVED

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

NO DECEPTION, NOW!PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

NO DECEPTION, NOW!

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

A HUMOROUS RECITATIONPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

A HUMOROUS RECITATION

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

RECITAL WITH HARP ACCOMPANIMENTPHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

RECITAL WITH HARP ACCOMPANIMENT

PHOTO. BY MORRISON, CHICAGO

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