HOME AND COUNTRY, 
 
 
 A MILITARY DKAMA> 
 
 Tn Five Acts. 
 
 BT G. H. WALKER 
 
 Author of " The Old Flag ; or, The Spy of Newbekn/ 
 
 HARTFORD, CONN. 
 
 SOLDIERS' RECORD STEAM PRINT. 
 
HOME AND] COUNTRY, 
 
 A MILITARY i)RAMA, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY G. H. "WALKER. 
 
 Author of "The Old Flag; ok, The Spy of Newbebn.' 
 
 ^ HABTFOBD, CONN. 
 
 SOLDIERS' RECORD STEAM PRINT. 
 
 isyi." 
 
V 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
 
 By W. F. WALKER, 
 In office of Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSOKE. 
 
 FEDERALS. 
 
 John Makshall. 
 Jerry Jowler. 
 Mike Donovan. 
 Willie Donovan. 
 General, Commanding. 
 Surgeon of the Army. 
 Capt. Winslow. 
 Sergt. Bates. 
 Company K. 
 Hospital Corps. 
 
 CONFEDERATES. 
 
 Edward Martin. 
 James McDonald. 
 Lieut. White. 
 Sergt. Jackson. 
 The Eaven Wings. 
 
 ladies. 
 
 Mrs. Marshall. 
 Kate Donovan. 
 Minnie Marshall. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene 1. — A scantily furnished room. — Minnie 
 discovered on a lounge c, with her mother tend- 
 ing her. — Curtain rises- slowly to music. 
 
 Mrs. M. Don't you feel better now, darling ? 
 
 Minnie. No; Mother, I believe I am growing 
 worse. Ob ! Ob ! {Hands on her side.) Isn't there 
 anything yon can give me, Mother? Something 
 warm to drink I think would relieve me. 
 
 Mrs. M. There is nothing in the house, Min- 
 nie, to make hot drinks. No fire to warm any- 
 thing for you. I expect Willie home soon, and if 
 Mr. Howard lets him have the money he wants, he 
 will go and get something that will help you. 
 
 Minnie. Mother, do you suppose that Father 
 takes Willie's money away from him to buy liquor 
 with ? Maggie Burns told me so the other day. But 
 I don't believe it, do you ? 
 
 Mrs. M. I don't know. I am afraid that he 
 does. Your father is not the man that he used to 
 be. 
 
 Minnie. He was real kind to us once, wasn't 
 he ? And if it wasn't for drink he would be just 
 as good now. 
 
 i* 
 
D HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 {Enter Kate Donovan, b with small basket.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, Mrs. Donovan, I am glad you 
 have called. 
 
 Kate. {Going up to Minnie) How is the little 
 darling to-night? 
 
 Mrs. M. She don't seem to be any better, nor I 
 haven't any thing in the world to give her. 
 
 Kate. Its meself, Mrs. Marshall, that can truly 
 sympathize with you, for I have been through it 
 all. I expected how it was. So I brought some 
 cordial, and it is just what-she needs. It will make 
 her sleep. 
 
 Mrs. M. I know that is what she wants. She 
 hasn't closed her eyes for three days. It isn't any- 
 thing that will hurt her, is it ? 
 
 Kate. ~No, it has been used in the family for 
 years. The doctors never object to it. I don't 
 know that it cures, but it quiets the nerves and 
 gives sleep when one has been long without it. 
 
 Mrs. M. Do you want to take some of it, 
 Minnie ? 
 
 Minnie. Oh yes, for I know it is just what I 
 want. Mrs. Donovan, you are very kind. 
 
 {Music.. They give her the cordial, her mother 
 fans her till she sleeps.) 
 
 Mrs. M. I never saw anything like that before. 
 
 Kate. You must have some rest yourself, Mrs. 
 Marshall, or you will be down sick. Here is some- 
 thing for you to eat. {Goes to the Basket^) 
 
 Mrs. M. Mrs. Donovan, I am afraid you are 
 robbing yourself. 
 
 Kate. No, no, not a bit. I know it is not 
 much of this world's goods that I have, and it's a 
 hard time that I have to get along, for Mike is still 
 idling away his time, and drinking worse than ever. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. I 
 
 But I manage better since little Maggie died, for 
 now I have both hands free to work, and leave. 
 Mike to shift for himself. Not a taste of food that 
 I earn does he get. The only way I can get work 
 out of him is to starve him to it. Its hard some- 
 time to hear him beg for food when I know he i& 
 almost dying for it, but I always hold out for I 
 know it would be best for him. I have tried to per- 
 suade him to go to the war; but he says he'll have- 
 nothing to do with the blasted " nager war" as lie 
 calls it. I sometimes think that if he would go it 
 would make a man of him. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh it seems dreadful to me to go 
 there. And I am so fearful lest Willie may take it 
 into his head to go. He says nothing about it, but 
 he talks a great deal about the war, and if there 
 ever was a little patriot Willie Marshall is one.. 
 And little Minnie there is just as patriotic as he,, 
 and her expressions of love for our country come 
 from her heart with such fervency. She often asks 
 her father why he does not go and light for his 
 country. lie takes little notice of it, and there is 
 not much danger of his going. It might do him. 
 good. But bad as he is, I would hate to have him 
 go. Ah, what a change there lias been in that man !' 
 It was just eighteen years ago this very month; 
 that he delivered his valedictory at Harvard Col- 
 lege. With what pride I listened to his eloquent 
 -words. Oh, how he has changed ! how he ha&. 
 fallen ! 
 
 Kate. There, Mrs. Marshall, you should not let 
 your mind run that way, it will make you sick en- 
 tirely. Why don't you eat some of this ? 
 
 Mrs. M. I don't want it now, I rather leave itt 
 till Willie comes. He will need it more than I. 
 
b HOME AND COUNTKY. 
 
 {Enter Mike Donovan, r. His appearance in- 
 dicates that he has just come from a Moody fight in 
 the street^ 
 
 Mike. Arrah, Katie, me darling, so I've found 
 ye at last. Sure its all over the neighborhood that 
 I've been hunting for ye. Its a little bit of a 
 scrimmage that I've been having in the strate. It 
 would have made yer heart lape with pride Katie 
 to see the way I walked into the tight. And it 
 was the most elegent victory ye ever seen. 
 Whoop ! but isn't Mike Donovan the boy for givin 
 them a left handed cut under the right ear. But 
 sure the exercise has given me such an appetite as 
 was niver given to Alexander for bating the whole 
 world. But divil a bit could I iind to eat in the 
 house. So come home now, me darling ; you wont 
 refuse yer darling Mike a crust of bread, after the 
 glorious achavement he has won. 
 
 Kate. Mike Donovan, its ashamed of yerself 
 that ye ought to be, to be begging food of me and 
 able to lick a whole crowd in the strate. Go earn 
 
 the money and buy the food and I'll cook it for ye. 
 Mike. Sure Kate, its yerself as well as me that 
 
 knows that there is no work at all at all that I can 
 
 get to do None but a crazy man would think of 
 
 giving Mike Donovan a job now. 
 
 Kate. I know where ye can get a job, Mike, 
 
 and noble work it is too. Its only a little fighting 
 
 that ye'll have to do, and you like that, you know, 
 
 better than eating. 
 
 Mike. So its into that blasted nager war ye 
 
 would have me go. Faith I'll go and enlist this 
 
 minute. 
 
 Kate, {detaining him) No, no, Mike, dont go, I 
 
 was only fooling with ye. Would ye go way off 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. V 
 
 there and get killed, and leave yer poor Kate a 
 widow. 
 
 Mike. Thin will ye give me something to ate % 
 
 Kate. ISTow Mike ye shouldn't take advantage 
 of me so. 
 
 Mike. Then ye'll not give me anything to ate. 
 Sure I must enlist then, or I'll starve. 
 
 Kate. No, no you mus'nt. Only don't leave me 
 alone, Mike, and bad as ye are I'll work with me 
 own hands to keep ye. I'd go home and get ye 
 something to eat now, but there isn't a bit in the 
 house. I brought the last morsel here in that 
 basket. 
 
 Mike, {looking into the basket) Faith here is jist 
 a nice lunch for me. (Is going/ to take some food.) 
 
 Kate. Mike Donovan, don't you dare to touch 
 that. "Would ye rob these poor starving cratures % 
 
 Mike. How the divil was I to know they're 
 starving. Faith I'll enlist now. 
 
 Kate. Mike ye act like a brute, and its ashamed 
 of ye that I am. Isn't there a spark of the man 
 left in ye ? Have ye forgotten the time that little 
 Maggie was sick ? How a kind woman came to us 
 with food, and stayed with us all through the long 
 dark night, until the angels took our little darling 
 home ? Do you remember how we thanked her 
 with tears in our eyes % What that lady did for 
 us, I have been doing for the family of John Mar- 
 shall to-night. 
 
 Mike. John Marshall ! did ye say John Mar- 
 shall ? And is this the wife and child of John 
 Marshall ? Oh, Mike Donovan, what if ye had done 
 the mane trick ye were about to do % Faith I wish 
 I was starving ten times worse than I am now, that 
 I might kape this food from my own lips famishing' 
 
101 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 for its nade and give it for the relief of the family 
 of John Marshall. Ah, Kate, ye have done a noble 
 dade of charity, and I feel as if I had a hand in it 
 meself. It makes me heart beat once more like 
 the heart of a man. Come, Kate, let us go home ' 
 now ; I can't bear to look at the sick child yonder. 
 It makes me think of little Maggie. 
 
 Kate. Good night, Mrs. Marshall, I suppose 
 "Willie will be home soon, and if I am wanted, be 
 sure and send for me. 
 
 {Music. Exit Kate and Mike.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Poor Minnie ! How quick she breathes ; 
 and she sleeps so soundly. I dont like to see her 
 that way. 
 
 ( A knock at the door, r. Mrs. Marshall rises 
 and opens it. 
 
 Jerry. {Outside.) Does Mrs. Marshall live here, 
 she that was Mary Longley ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes, Sir. 
 
 Jerry. {Entering.) Be you Mary ? 
 
 Mrs. M. I suppose I am, sir. 
 
 Jerry. Ye don't say so. {Shakes her hand vio- 
 lently.) Why, Mary, ye don't know how glad I am 
 to see ye Don't ye know who I be ? 
 
 Mrs. M. No, I don't seem to remember you. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, I swan, if that don't beat all 
 natur. Why, I knew you the minit I sot eyes on 
 ye. Look right straight at me, now. Can't ye re- 
 member ? 
 
 Mrs. M. No, Sir. 
 
 Jerry Why, I'm yer cousin, Jerry Jowler. 
 {Shakes her hand again ) Now, I guess ye know 
 who I be, don't ye ? Ain't quite forgot Jerry, 
 have ye? 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 11 
 
 Mary. Can it be possible % Oh ! Jerry, you 
 don't know how glad I am to see you. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, you better believe that I'm some 
 glad to see you. Is that your child 1 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes, and she is very sick. 
 
 Jerry. Seems to me she's sleeping amazing 
 sound for a sick gal. I shouldn't like to have her 
 that way, no how, if she's mine. 
 
 Mrs. M. She has not slept for a long time, and 
 I think that she will be better for it when she 
 awakes. But take a chair, Jerry, I want to hear 
 something about the old place. I haven't heard a 
 single word from there since I left. I never ex- 
 pected to see you down here. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, it is somewhat remarkable that I 
 should get so far from hum. But the pesky doin's 
 of them ere tarnal rebs has jest set my blood to 
 bilin like all possessed ; so ye see I come down 
 here to the city to see if I can't get a chance to go. 
 
 Mrs. M. You will find opportunities enough 
 here, for men are being enlisted by the hundreds 
 every day. But is there no chance for enlisting in 
 the country ? 
 
 Jerry. Wall, yes ; but ye see I didn't find a 
 chance that jest suited me. They raised a com- 
 pany up there to hum, and I jined, and they prom- 
 ised to make me leftenant. But when election 
 come, I'll be blamed if I got a single vote. And 
 then to smooth it all over, what does the captin do 
 but come and offer me the position of first cor- 
 poral. You better believe my dander riz higher 
 nor a kite. They couldn't smooth things over with 
 no such soft sodder as that. So ye see I jest on- 
 listed, to let the darned fools have things all their 
 own way. I was bound to go somewhere and see 
 
12 HOME AND COTTNTKY. 
 
 if I couldn't be appreciated. But I tell ye what, 
 I'm patriotic as thunder, and getting to be more 
 and more so every day, and I shouldn't wonder a 
 darn bit but what I got so excited yet that I'd jest 
 up and enlist, if I didn't get nothing higher nor an 
 orderly sergeant. That's so, by lightning. 
 
 Mrs. M. Well, Jerry, I am glad to see you so 
 patriotic, and hope you will win lots of glory. But 
 there is one thing that I wish to speak to you about. 
 It is in regard to Willie, my oldest child. He is 
 nothing but a mere boy, but I am afraid he has 
 some thoughts of going to the war, and I don't 
 want you to give him the least encouragement. He 
 is all I have to lean upon now, and I believe it 
 would kill me were he to go. Oh, Jerry ! you don't 
 know what I have suffered since I saw you last. I 
 must tell you all about it. It isn't much to tell, 
 though — the same old story of stimulants, intoxica- 
 tion, debauchery and ruin. John Marshall, once 
 •so proud and noble, is only a miserable wreck. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, I swan, if this doesn't beat all 
 natur, and he had sich all-fired nice larnin, and 
 <?ould make sich all killing big speeches. 
 
 Mrs. M. There never was a young man who 
 entered upon his profession with brighter prospects 
 than he. When I think of it, it does not seem 
 possible. Here I am, Jerry, upon the very verge 
 of starvation, and little Minnie sick, so terrible 
 sick, with nothing in the world to relieve her. In 
 this basket is the only food that has been in the 
 house for three days, and a kind Irish lady, almost 
 as poorly off as I, just brought it here. I am keep- 
 ing it for Willie. He will be home from the store 
 soon. He said he should try and get some money 
 from his employer, but I am afraid he will not, for 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 13 
 
 he has already taken up more than he has earned. 
 They say that John takes the money away from 
 him to spend for liquor. And what is more terri- 
 ble than all, he has lately come home in a dreadful 
 passion, and had it not been for the restraining in- 
 fluence of little Minnie, he would have beaten me, 
 perhaps killed me. It is strange, the power that 
 Minnie has over him. 
 
 Jerry. {Rising Excitedly) The blasted mean 
 contemp table skunk, I'd jest like to catch him rais- 
 ing a hand agin you. It's a darned shame anyhow 
 and ye hadn't orter live with him another day un- 
 der no sarcumstances whatsumever. If I'd only a 
 known jest how things was, I could a helped ye 
 jest as well as not, and been mighty glad to done it. 
 You don't know how much I used to think of ye, 
 Mary. Mebby ye wouldn't believe it, but jest as 
 true' as I stand here, I cried like a baby when I 
 hearn ye was married. I'd a given the last cent I 
 had in the world rather than to see ye suffer like 
 this. But it isn't too late to help ye now. It'll be 
 easy enough to get rid of yer husband after what he 
 has done, and then I'll see that ye don't want for 
 nothin' no more. It wouldn't do much good to try 
 to do anything for ye with him hanging around 
 feeatin' on ye, and stealing all that was gin ye, to 
 buy liquor with. So the first thing you do is to 
 apply for a divorce, and get rid of the critter right 
 off. I'll stand the expense, by thunder. 
 
 Mrs. M. I thank you very much, Jerry, for 
 your kind intentions, but you have advised me to 
 do that which Mary Marshall scorns to give one 
 moment's thought. I know that John is very low, 
 that he treats me very cruelly. But he is the same 
 John Marshall to whom I vowed at the marriage 
 2 
 
14 • HOME AND COUNTEY. 
 
 altar to be faithful unto death. And though he be 
 ten times more degraded, ten times more Brutal, I 
 shall hold the marriage compact as an ordinance of 
 Grod and keep it sacred to the end. While he lives 
 — and I fear it may not be long — I am his wife, 
 and for the sake of what he has been, if no more, I 
 shall deem it my duty, aye, a pleasure, to share 
 with him all dishonor and degradation. 
 
 Jerry. (Aside.) I've read about jes sich wim- 
 min as her in story books, but darn me if I ever 
 seen one afore. Taint no sorter wonder that I 
 used to love that ar gal almost to-death. It came 
 deuced near spiling me.— I'm afraid I shall have 
 another spell on it now. 
 
 (Enter Willie.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Willie this is our cousin, Jerry Jowler. 
 
 Jerry. How do you do, William ? I'm proper 
 glad to see ye. 
 
 Willie. How is Minnie? She has gone to sleep 
 hasn't she ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes, Mrs. Donovan has been here and 
 given her some cordial that made her sleep. Did 
 you get any money from Mr. Howard ? 
 
 Willie. No, mother. lie said he could not let 
 me have any more money until I had earned it. 
 Mother, there is something that I have thought a 
 great deal of doing, but I have never spoken to you 
 about it. I want to be a soldier, and do what little 
 I can to help save the Union, that is now threaten- 
 ed with so much danger. If things had been dif- 
 ferent with us, I should have gone before this. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh Willie, you must not go ; it will 
 break my heart if you do. 
 
 Willie. I do hate to leave you, mother, but others 
 have given up their sons. By going I can help 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 15 
 
 you more than I do now. My pay will be greater 
 and it can be arranged so that you can get state aid. 
 You will let me go, wont you, mother ? I must 
 have some share in this noble work. 
 
 Mrs. M. It makes my heart beat with pride to 
 hear you talk thus. But you know, darling, that 
 misfortune has made you doubly dear to me. After 
 all I have suffered it don't seem as if it could be my 
 duty to make this sacrifice. 
 
 Willie. Mother, there is no sacrifice too great 
 for our country. I know the parting will be hard 
 mother, but I believe it will be for the best. 
 
 Mrs. M. {In her chair sobbing) Oh ! don't talk 
 about it any more, I can't endure the thought. Oh 
 merciful God, why am I thus afflicted. 
 
 Jerry. Mebby as how I aint no sorter buisness 
 to put my yap in here, but then on the other hand 
 it may be doin my country a sarvice to spit out jes 
 what I've made up my mind to. Now its jest as 
 plain as a nose on a man's face, that that are boy 
 has got patriotism bilin into every part of him. 
 We read a good deal about sich things in the news- 
 papers, but its plaguey seldom that ye see love for 
 Uncle Sam shown up life size as it is there. Now 
 folks may talk about the curse of slavery and the 
 galling chains that are hitched onto the groaning 
 nigger. I know its allfired sickening, and makes a 
 fellow's blood bile to think on, but I believe its 
 slavery ten hundred thousand million times worse 
 and more, to take the slimsiest string, it dont make 
 no darned odds if its what they call the silken cord 
 of love, and fetter the arm that is fired with pat- 
 riotism and raised to strike in defense of liberty. 
 Ye may love that are boy, Mary, but his country 
 has got the first claim on him, and I believe if ye 
 
16 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 let him be guided by the noble spirit that freedom 
 has planted into his breast, somehow in the ways- 
 of Providence, a blessing will come to ye. Now 
 ye see I've got some dosh in this old wallet and I 
 put it there to spend for the good of my country. 
 I made up my mind to do it, and no human critter 
 can't stop me. I thought as mebby I'd have to> 
 hunt some time before I could find a good chance,, 
 but it come a darn sight quicker than I expected,. 
 Ye can't make no excuse'now, Mary, I'll enlist andi 
 go right along with him, and ye shall have every 
 thing to hum that ye want. 
 
 Willie. Oh, Cousin Jerry, you don't know how 
 much I thank you. ]STow mother, you will let me. 
 go, wont you ? 
 
 Mrs. M. (deeply moved.) Yes, Willie, if yout 
 will promise me one thing. You know what has- 
 ruined your father. I see more danger' for you in 
 this than in the deadly bullet. Now for your life,. 
 Willie, don't ever touch a drop of liquor. 
 
 Willie. Mother, I promise you this, and God 
 knows that my mind is already firmly fixed. Come- 
 mother, don't weep. You should rejoice that you> 
 have a son to give in this glorious cause 
 
 Jerry. Wall Willie, its my opinion that ye bet- 
 ter go right out and get something for the comfort 
 of the house. Here's some money. But the first 
 thing ye do, get a doctor. I don't like the looks of 
 that little gal, no how. 
 
 Willie. Poor Minnie, I'll be back soon, (Exit r.) 
 
 Jerry (Hesitatingly) I hope Mary ye wont 
 feel delicate nor nothing about taking the money 
 I'm going to give ye as a sort of a bounty for Wil- 
 lie. I know that wimmin are some times gol darned 
 particular about sich things. 'Twas meaner than 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 17 
 
 soap-grease for me to say what I did to ye about 
 leaving yer husband. But darn it all, you know 
 jest how that is without me tellin on yer. Now ye 
 wont refuse it, will ye '? 
 
 Mrs. M. {Rising.) No, Jerry, for I believe you 
 give it with the best of motives. Ah ! Jerry, old 
 friends, the friends of youth, the friends that have 
 shared our childish joys and sorrows, are the true 
 friends, after all ! 
 
 {Enter John Marshall.) 
 
 John. Got anything to eat here ? If you haven't, 
 there'll be a devil of a row. 
 • Mrs. M. Hush, John, Minnie is sleeping. 
 
 John. It's all your own fault, having her sick 
 that way. If you had half taken care of her, she'd 
 have been well before this. What ye standing 
 there for ? why the devil don't yon fly round and 
 get me something to eat? (Sees Jerry.) Hullo L 
 who the devil is this ? Here's a go, the old woman's 
 got a feller. I say, Mary, can't ye give a feller an 
 introduction ? • 
 
 Mary. It is my cousin, Jerry Jowler. 
 
 John. How do you do, Mr. Growler ? I'm de- 
 lighted to see you, Mr. Chousler, I mean Cousin, 
 Frowsier. I am exceedingly honored with your 
 visit. Hope I ain't kept you waiting long. 
 
 Jerry. John Marshall, if you've got the re- 
 -motest idee into your head that I come here to see 
 you, all I've got to say is that you are teetotally 
 and everlastingly mistaken. 
 
 John. If ye didn't come to see me, who the 
 devil did ye come to see ? 
 
 Jerry. Your wife. 
 
 John. Oh, ye did, did ye ? "Well then, Mr^ 
 
18 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Grizzly, all I've got to say is, that the sooner yon 
 get out of this the better. 
 
 Jerry. I don't think I shall leave for you, you 
 dirty, miserable, drunken critter. You conglom- 
 erated diabolical compound double extract of the 
 essence of meanness. 
 
 John. You won't leave, hey ? Then all I've got 
 to do is to put ye out myself. 
 
 Jerry. There never wa'n't no John Marshall 
 made nor never will be through all coming etarnity, 
 that's got the muscle onto him that's capable of 
 putting one side of me through a forty foot door. 
 
 Music. John grapples Jerry. They struggle, 
 and Jerry is forced out r. Mary kneels beside 
 Minnie. 
 
 John. Now, Mary, we'll see about this. (Is go- 
 ing to strike Mary, when Minnie suddenly starts 
 up and arrests the blow. Music chords, Tableau. 
 
 Enter Willie, r., with bundles \ c&c. Minnie 
 sinks back. John and Mary turn to Willie, wha 
 lays things on the table, and hesimtingly approaches 
 his father. 
 
 Willie. Father, did you know that I was going 
 to the war? 
 
 John. What ye talking about, ye little fooL 
 You ain't old enough nor big enough. 
 
 Willie. There are a great many as small as I 
 that are going. Capt. Winslow has agreed to take 
 me. 
 
 John. It don't make any difference, you can't 
 go without my consent. I don't believe there's 
 any justice in carrying on this war, and I am not 
 going to help sustain it. So that's the long and 
 short of that matter. - 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 1» 
 
 Minnie. {Awaking. Did you say that you? 
 were going to the war, Willie ? It is a noble reso- 
 lution, and makes me so proud of you. It is such 
 a privilege to be able to serve our country, when it 
 is in danger. I wouldn't have mother suffer by 
 your going, but I know that God will provide for her- 
 Father, I wish you were going with him. What is 
 the reason, father, that you care so little about 
 your country ? I have something here that I am 
 going to give you, father. It is some manuscript 
 that I found in the old trunk up stairs. It is about 
 love of home and country, and has such beautiful 
 thoughts, I have read it over and over again. 
 Father, I am not going to be with you much 
 longer, for death is very near to me, and I thought 
 you might read this if I gave it as a' dying gift- 
 (Gives the manuscript, and sinks back.) 
 
 John. It is my writing ! The Oration delivered! 
 with my Valedictory ! Oh ! that wasn't this John 
 Marshall, this miserable, degraded sot, with no 
 more feeling than a brute. (Sinks into a chair, l; 
 Willie stands by Minnie.) 
 
 Mrs. M. What is it, John ? (Takes the manu- 
 script.) " Home and Country." I do notwonder r 
 John, that the memory of this overpowers you. It 
 was not the practical application of these thoughts 
 that has darkened our home and destroyed our 
 country's peace. 
 
 John. Oh ! those words come back to me like a- 
 flame of fire, kindling into life those emotions that 
 have so long slumbered. Oh ! what have I been I 
 What have I done ! It wasn't I that did it. It 
 wasn't I that brought miser}' and starvation to this- 
 once happy home. It was that cursed drink. That 
 monster that robs men of their senses, and makes 
 
20 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 them worse than brutes. But then it is my fault. 
 Didn't I .yield myself a willing tool to do its hellish 
 work. (jRise-8.) But I will be its slave no more, 
 so help me God ! 
 
 Music. Mr?. M. sinks into a chair, r. "Willie 
 -goes up to her, and receives her embrace. John looks 
 at them and then kneels by Minnie. 
 
 John. Oh, if Minnie would only live now, all 
 might be redeemed. How still and deathlike. 
 Cold drops on her forehead, and her hands are like 
 ice. It is too late, the touch of death is on her. 
 Oh, if she could only speak to me once more ! 
 
 Minnie. Oh, it was so beautiful ! I saw it only 
 a moment, but long enough to see that our cause 
 was upheld in Heaven. — You will read that, won't 
 you, Father, and folio w its teachings ? 
 
 John. Oh, Minnie ! every one of those words 
 were written by my hand, and came from the very 
 depth of my soul. All this wonderful love that 
 you have for your country, was inherited from me. 
 And now, Minnie, if what you just saw be the 
 bright realms of Heaven where you are going, bear 
 with you the message that John Marshall is conse- 
 crated forever to his country's cause. 
 
 Minnie. Oh, Father, you have made me so 
 happy. Come, mother, kiss me, I'm going. {Music.) 
 Willie — father — I have done something for free- 
 dom, haven't I, father, for I have led you back to 
 its altar, and I shall soon see the bright angels 
 there rejoice, 
 
 Points up. Music. Other characters kneel by 
 Minnie. Allegory discovered — " The Altar of 
 Freedom P Tableau. 
 
 end of ACT I. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 21 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene. — Landscape. — Two small tents at bach. — 
 Arms stacked in front. 
 
 Fife and drum sound the reveille. — Enter Orderly" 
 Sergeant, r. 
 
 Ord. {Putting his head in the first tent.) Turn* 
 out to roll call. {Repeats at next tent and threes 
 times off, l. 
 
 Jerry Jowler, Mike Donovan, and soldiers 
 turn out of tents, and others enter r. and l., form- 
 ing a line across the stage. 
 
 The Sergeant returns and calls the roll, bringing 
 in the names of Corporal Jowler, Mike Donovan,. 
 John Marshall and Willie Marshall. When the- 
 two last are called, soldiers respond, "On guard." 
 " Local hits " can be made by calling familiar 
 names, with suggestive responses from the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Ord. Attention, Company ! Right face ! Break: 
 ranks, march. 
 
 Exit part of soldiers, leaving Jerry, Mike, and, 
 six others on the stage, who seat themselves and sing' 
 camp songs. — The drum beats, " peas upon ther 
 trencher." 
 
 Voice. {Off, l.) Fall in for rations. 
 
 Mike. D'ye hear that, Corporal Jowler ? Wlrjjr 
 the divil don't ye lape to yer duty. 
 
22 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Jerry. I wish to thunder, Mike, you wouldn't 
 keep pesterin' me all the time. I shouldn't suppose 
 you thought of anything but eating^from morning 
 to night. 
 
 Mike. That's because I'm half starved with the 
 mane way ye have of sarving out rations. Faith, 
 I never get more than half what belongs tome. 
 
 Jerry. Now that's a gol darned lie. You know 
 that you eat more than any six men in the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Mike. Why the divil don't ye go bring thim 
 rations ? 
 
 Jerry. "Who the deuce you talking to ? I'd 
 like to know who has command of this squad. 
 (Exit l.) 
 
 Mike, Stick up for yer rights now, Jerry. Don't 
 let that blasted cook cheat ye because } 7 er only 
 eighth corporal. Faith, its fun jest entirely to see 
 him. "Who commands the squad?" says he. 
 (Laughs.) Faith, ye'd think he's a Gigadeer 
 Brindal by the airs he puts on. 
 
 Jerry. (Galling off, l.) Come along here, some 
 of you fellers, and help lug this stuff up. (Soldier 
 goes to help.) 
 
 Mike. D'ye hear that now ? Some one to help 
 him ! I'll bet now I can ate every divil of a bit 
 he's got there. 
 
 Re-enter Jerry and Soldier icith rations. 
 
 Jerry. There's yer. coffee, help yerselves. (The 
 men crowd ujp and Jill their cups.) What in time 
 do ye want to jam up that way for? No need to 
 fill yer cups heaping full, you gol darned hogs. 
 Three hard tack apiece this mornin'. (Deals them 
 out Mike takes his first, and tries to take a second 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 23 
 
 turn before all are served.) See here, Mike Dono- 
 van, this ain't goin to do no longer. Yon had 
 your hard-taok once. 
 
 Mike. Faith, I thought ye were through with 
 hard-tack, and giving out the salt horse. 
 
 Jerri/. Ye can all help yerselves to that. But 
 these pertaters I'm going to divide my own self. 
 (Soldiers sit doivn. Gives Mike one.) 
 
 Mike. Is this all the prater I'm to have, I dunno ? 
 
 Jerry That's an all-fired good pertater. (Gives 
 two to the next, and continues to serve.) 
 
 Mike. See there now, it's two that ye give him. 
 
 Jerry. But don't ye see they're a prodigious 
 sight littler than your'n. 
 
 Mike. Faith, he has a prater there bigger than 
 mine. 
 
 Jerry. Don't ye suppose I know what pertaters 
 be ? Ye've got more heft than any man in the 
 mess. 
 
 Mike. It's yerself that knows a divilish sight 
 better than that. It's a mane way ye have for 
 getting revenge for that left handed cut I give ye 
 under the right ear. But for all that, ye trate me 
 better than ye do John Marshall. 
 
 Jerry. What in thunder have I been doing to 
 John Marshall? 
 
 Mike, Faith, now, that's a queer question for 
 the likes of yese to he asking. Isn't it every day 
 that ye kape running to the captain with some 
 blasted lie ? And don't I know the reason. Ye'd 
 like to ruin John Marshall because yer love-sick for 
 his wife. 
 
 Jerry. Look here, Mike Donovan, ye better be 
 careful how ye talk to me. I guess I know what 
 I'm about. Long as I'm corporal of this company 
 
24 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 I calculate to do my duty. Now ye see this is jest 
 the way the matter stands. That feller, Ed Martin, 
 that ye see skulking around the camp here every 
 day, is Mary Marshall's brother, and 1 suppose the 
 darned critter is my cousin too. Now he's come 
 up here from Virginia, where he owns a nice big 
 place with a lot of niggers, with the excuse that he 
 wants to see his sister, when he hasn't taken notice 
 ^enough on her for more'n a dozen years to let her 
 know whether he was dead or alive. Now any 
 man that's got half an eye can see what he's here 
 for. He and John Marshall are together purty 
 near all the time, and I've seen some mighty mys- 
 terious goings on. 
 
 Mike. Ye haven't the least reason in the world 
 to doubt the loyalty of John Marshall. And it's a 
 mane, dirty blackguard ye are for trying to throw 
 suspicion on him. 
 
 Jerry. I ain't afeard to tell you nor nobody 
 «else just what I think about this ere matter, and I 
 say that John Marshall is a darned rotten-hearted 
 secesh, and you ain't much better. 
 
 Mike. {Springing up.) Take back thim words 
 mow. Take back thim words, I say, or I'll pitch 
 into ye like a thousand a brick. 
 
 Jerry. Jerry Jowler ain't in no great habit of 
 swallowing words that he knows are true as gospel. 
 
 Mike. {Taking off his coat ) "Will ye be after 
 taking back thim words now ? 
 
 Jerry. Ye better be plaguey careful what ye do 
 mow ; it's all-killing dangerous business for a mere 
 
 private to strike an officer. 
 Mike. Faith, I'll give ye 
 
 ) ye jist two seconds to take 
 back thim words. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 25 
 
 Jerry. Come, dry up, ye gol darned fool, or 
 I'll put ye into the guard house. 
 
 Mike. Into the guard house, is it % [Makes a 
 rush for Jerry, and is held hack by the soldiers.) 
 Jist lave me alone till I get one lick at him, and I'll 
 make him so sick that he'll forget he ever was cor- 
 poral. Ah ! ye maley mouth cur, ye vile scandal- 
 izer, if I could only get at ye, it's into mince mate 
 that I'd make ye, mighty quick. {Struggles, and 
 shouts to he released.) 
 
 {Enter Capt. Winslow.) 
 
 Copt. Are you at it again, Mike '\ You'll 
 have to go to the guard house this time. 
 
 (Two soldiers with muskets enter r. and take Mike 
 off. Capt. Winslow goes with them. The assem- 
 hly heats, and the stage is cleared of the hreakfast 
 dishes.) 
 
 (Enter Orderly Sergeant, r.) 
 
 Ord. Fall in for company drill. 
 
 The men fall in, in one rank across the stage, the 
 line extending off, l. Four men in citizens'' dress 
 enter r., with equipments awkwardly put on. 
 
 Ord. {looking at the recruits?) Here, Corporal 
 Jowler, you'll have to drill these men. 
 
 Jerry. I suppose I can do it. (Goes up and 
 looks at them with great importance, adjusts their 
 equipments, dec, until the company is marched off. 
 
 Ord. Attention ! In two ranks form company. 
 Company right face, quick, march ! Eight dress ! 
 Front ! In each rank count twos ! Eight face ! 
 Front ! Left face ! Front ! Order, arms ! Shoul- 
 der, arms ! Support, arms ! Shoulder, arms ! 
 3 
 
26 HOME AJND COUNTRY. 
 
 {Officers enter r) Present, arms ! (Salutes the 
 Capt., and takes his post.) 
 
 €apt. Shoulder, arms! Without doubling, 
 right face ! Forward march ! (Marches off with 
 them.) 
 
 Jerry. (To recruits) Come, fall in here, and 
 I'll see what I can do with ye. Get into a line 
 here, somehow or other, can't ye ? (Marks with 
 his foot on the ground) There, see if ye can toe 
 that. Now take the position of a soldier. Spread 
 out yer toes more. Keep yer heels swag together. 
 Draw in yer stomachs. Not that way, I mean yer 
 lower stomach, jest as ye would if ye had the colic. 
 Hold up yer heads now, no need to look as if ye'd 
 been stealing sheep. That's a gol darned pretty 
 way to hold yer guns, ain't it ? Don't ye see how 
 I hold mine % (Men try to get their guns right. 
 No. 1 gets his into his left hand, and JVo. 3 holds 
 the barrel to the front) Hold yer barrels to the 
 rear. (Men point their guns behind them.) Oh ! 
 gol darn it, that ain't what I mean. (Places guns 
 in their hands) Right, face ! (Nos. 1 and 3 face 
 left, 2 and 4 right.) Darnation, that ain't right. 
 Turn right straight round. (All. turn directly 
 about) I never did see sich gaumin work in all 
 my born days. Don't ye know nothin or don't ye ? 
 {Recruits step around, trying to get the right po- 
 sition) There now, see if ye can stand there. 
 {Places them front) Guess I'll put ye through the 
 manual of arms. Now I want ye to look right 
 straight at me, and do jest as I do. (Hesitates, cmd 
 takes off his hat and scratclies his head. Recruits 
 do the same) Christopher Chrimus, what ye doin 1 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY, 27 
 
 {Throws his hat on the ground. Recruits do the 
 same.) Jehosephat to J ehosephatation ! (Bring' 
 his gun down. Recruits do the same, striding the 
 butts on their toes. They shout "Oh" kick wout^ 
 and run off e.) I'll be darned if I ain't about di ~ 
 couraged. Somehow or other I can't seem to get 
 the hang of being corporal. I've just as good a 
 mind to resign as I ever had to eat. Here, Here ? 
 where in thunder ye going to ? (Rushes off e.) 
 
 (Enter Willie, l. He takes off his equipments 
 and lays them in the tent.) 
 
 Willie. It isn't much fun to be on guard all 
 night. Let me see, I have only been in camp a 
 little over four weeks, and I already begin to feel 
 like an old soldier. I hope mother will come to- 
 day. Uncle Edward might bring her out as well 
 as not, when he drives from the city.. Why, there 
 is Uncle Edward now, I believe. (Looks l.) Yes ; 
 and there is a lady with him. I believe it is moth- 
 er. Yes, it is. (Exit l.) 
 
 Jerry. {Off e., measuring the syllables to cor- 
 respond with his step.) Left, left, left — Change yer 
 step. Gol darn it, change yer step. Why don't 
 ye change yer step ? Now ye got it — now ye got 
 it. Keep it — keep it. (Enter with recruits, e.) 
 Left, left, left. (Marches off, l.) Ye darn fool, ye 
 lost it again — lost it again. Halt. (Drawing out 
 the word with great force. 
 
 Enter Mes. M. and Willie, l. 
 
 Willie. Oh, mother, I am so glad you came. I 
 heard to-day that our regiment was liable to be 
 called any day to march at a few hours' notice, and 
 then I would not have had a chance to see you at 
 
28 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 all. See, here is my tent. (Looks in.) I sleep 
 out in that corner. Isn't it a nice, cosy little place ? 
 I shan't have no such comfort when I get down 
 South. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh ! Willie, I don't see how you can 
 be so gay and light hearted. 
 
 Willie. Ah ! mother, I expect to fight the 
 hardest battle before I go ; and it's only with a 
 light heart that I can brave the storm. Come, let 
 us go out to the parade ground, and see the com- 
 panies drill. {Exeunt r.) 
 
 (Mite? 1 John and Martin, l.) 
 
 Mar. I think you had better decide, John, to 
 let Mary go with me. She will have all the luxu- 
 ries that my home can afford. 
 
 John. I have no objections, if Mary has not. 
 
 Mar. Well, then that is settled. I shall prob- 
 ably remain here until your regiment leaves. Per- 
 haps I may see you down there soon. 
 
 John. It wouldn't be at all strange if you did. 
 
 Mar. Are you really in earnest % If you are, 
 I tell you what, you can make a handsome thing 
 out of this. We'll lay our plans for it now. I 
 will fix it so you can come any time. 
 
 John. It has been my intention to go that way 
 from the very first. 
 
 Mar. I thought I could not be mistaken. Give 
 me your hand. But it won't do to talk this matter 
 over here. We better go where there is no danger 
 of being overheard. 
 
 John. And when you see me down there, you 
 will see rows of glittering steel, and bright banners 
 floating on the air, and on each flag you will see a 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY, 29 
 
 star for every State. Edward Martin, if you ever 
 counted upon my disloyalty, you reckoned with- 
 out your host. But we have been friends, and will 
 not quarrel. As a proof of my friendship I will 
 now give you advice which, if promptly followed, 
 may be the means of saving your life. I do it in 
 strict violation of what I feel to be my duty, but I 
 am willing to take the consequences. You are 
 suspected, sir, of being in league with the Con- 
 federate Army, and it is not safe for you to be in 
 this camp another minute. 
 
 Mar. I thank you for your timely warning, and 
 will profit by it at once. I should have known 
 that it would not be safe for a Southerner here. I 
 will return at once to the city. I suppose Mary 
 will not wish to go now, and you can provide 
 means for her return. 
 
 John. Well then, good-bye, and remember that 
 we bear each other no malice. 
 
 Mar. Of course not. Give my love to Mary 
 and Willie. Good-bye. {Exit l.) 
 
 (Enter Kate Donovan, l- ) 
 
 Kate. Oh, Mr. Marshall, is it you % They tell 
 me that Mike is in the guard house, and I believe 
 me heart will break entirely. Oh, what terrible 
 thing has Mike been doing. I walked every step 
 of the way from the city, me heart all the while 
 beating with pride, thinking how noble Mike 
 would look as a soldier, and now I find him eon- 
 fined like a culprit. It must be that he has taken 
 to drink again. It's too bad, it y s too bad, after all 
 the strong hopes I had that he was going to mend, 
 3* 
 
30 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 John. This is all news to me, Mrs. Donovan, 
 I was absent from the company this morning. I 
 don't think it can be anything very serious. It is 
 not so terrible as you seem to imagine, to be put in 
 the guard house. 
 
 Kate. I don't care so much if he hasn't taken 
 to drink again, for that was all that prevented 
 Mike from being a gentleman. It almost broke 
 me heart, you know, to let him enlist, but he had 
 set his mind /upon going with you, and I thought 
 he might receive some of the strength that Heaven 
 had given to you. But I suppose I shall see him 
 soon, for they told me they would send him to his 
 quarters, and this I think is the place. Ah ! here 
 he comes now. 
 
 {Enter Mike, l.) 
 
 Kate. Oh, Mike Donovan, is this the way ye 
 keep the promise ye made to me, when I let ye 
 enlist. 
 
 Mike. Ah, Katie, it's drinking whisky that ye 
 think I've been doing. But ye don't know how 
 the Union blue on the outside of Mike Donovan 
 keeps all vile stuff from the inside of him. Wait 
 till ye hear me story, Kate, and then ye'll not 
 blame me. (Grosses to r. of Kate.) If a mean,, 
 dirty blackguard was to hape vile slander upon the 
 name of that man, {Pointing to John) calling 
 him a rotten hearted secesh, what would ye have 
 me do ? 
 
 Kate. If ye didn't walk up and give him a 
 sound drubbing, I'd never own ye for a husband 
 any more. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 31 
 
 Mike. Faith, it's jist that same thing I'd done 
 if they'd only let me, and it took a whole regiment 
 to hold me. 
 
 John, (r.) Is this really so, Mike % Has any 
 one been making such insinuations of me ? 
 
 Mike. Yes, and here comes the mane scallawag 
 that did it. 
 
 John. Jerry Jowler ! Is it possible 1 
 
 (Miter Jerry, l.) 
 
 Mike. (To Jerry.) Here's the man ye've been 
 scandalizing with yer dirty tongue. Sow see if 
 ye've got the courage to spake it to his face. 
 
 Jerry, (l.) I don't know what that blasted 
 Paddy has been tellin on yer, but I'll tell ye jest 
 exactly how it is. As a friend, John Marshall, I 
 wouldn't in the least w T ays harm ye, but as corporal 
 of Co. K, I must do my duty. 
 
 Mike. Corporal, corporal, corporal. A devilish 
 fine corporal ye are. Lave me go, Kate, till I get 
 at him, and he'll have more stripes on him than 
 would make him six corporals. 
 
 Kate. Hold on till he tells his story, and then 
 ye can go for him. 
 
 Jerry. The long and short of the matter is just 
 here ; you are suspected of being a wolf in sheep's 
 clothing, or in other words, that you are an out and 
 out secesh enlisted in this regiment for treacherous 
 designs. 
 
 John. (Holding Mike back.) JSTo, Mike, don't 
 harm him. The poor fellow is deluded, and don't 
 know what he is doing. Jerry Jowler, I under- 
 stand all this. I know why it is that you desire 
 my ruin. But I will not judge you harshly, for I 
 
32 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 doubt not that you are sincere in what you claim 
 to be your duty. Your mind is warped by this 
 foolish infatuation, that might be excusable in a 
 schoolboy, but ill becoming a man of your years. 
 You might not be willing to own it, you might not 
 hardly be conscious of it yourself, but I know that 
 in your secret heart . you would rejoice, should I 
 again be plunged back into the degradation from 
 which I have just been raised. You know, Jerry, 
 how I was lifted up, how like a miracle the deed 
 was wrought, how Heaven itself seemed to make 
 me its special Providence. You have heard of the 
 scene at the death-bed of little Minnie, and the 
 vows that were taken there. And, Jerry, if it 
 should be my fate to fall again, you ought to know 
 the heart of Mary Marshall weil enough to know 
 that she would scorn the man that claimed to be 
 her friend and did not bring her proof that he had 
 done all in his power to save me. 
 
 (Miter Mrs. M., l., back of characters.} 
 
 Jerry. That's all very fine talk, Mr. Marshall. 
 I don't know but what you're the noblest man on 
 earth — ■ 
 
 Mrs. M. (l. of John.) To me, he is, and you, 
 the vilest. (Throwing pocket-book at his feet.) There 
 is your money. I was intending to return it with 
 thanks instead of scorn. 
 
 Jerry. (Picking up the book.) I expected this 
 would be spent for liquor before this time. (Hesi- 
 tates, then turns to Mrs. M.) Mary — after all — all 
 I've thought — on ye — its — too — too — boo-hoo-hoo. 
 (Exit l., crying very loudly?) 
 
 Mike. It's divilish little that he lacks of being 
 crazy. (Cheers off, r.) 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. ' 3S 
 
 Mrs. M. What is that ? 
 
 John. It is probably the men cheering over 
 gome news they have just received. Perhaps the 
 orders have come for onr regiment to move. 
 
 Mike. Faith, I'll go and find out. Does yer 
 want to go and see the regiment, Kate ? Come on 
 then. {Exit Mike and Kate, e.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, I hope you will not be called 
 away to-day, John. 
 
 John. It does seem hard to leave you now,. 
 Mary. I know that you have fears for my weak- 
 ness. # 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh yes, John, I have. The tempta- 
 tion will be so great where you are going. It 
 seems as if you could not have gone to a worse 
 place. 
 
 John. And I know, Mary, that I could not 
 have gone to a better place. If anything can in- 
 spire nobility in the heart of man, it is the spirit of 
 patriotism and liberty. There was nothing else 
 under Heaven, Mary, that could have wrought this 
 change in me. I know I am to leave the influence 
 of home, and be exposed to the peculiar tempta- 
 tions of camp and field. But wasn't it little Min- 
 nie, after all, that lifted me up ? Wasn't it she,, 
 standing at the very gates of Heaven and gazing^ 
 into those celestial realms, that assured me that our 
 cause was there sustained ? Wasn't it her angelic- 
 voice praising my written words, that seemed to 
 give them the sanction of divine approval ? Yes ; 
 little Minnie was God's own messenger that 
 night. She was the angel that led me back, and I 
 believe that she will still be near me with her holy 
 
34 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 influence to keep my spirit undefiled. It may be 
 superstition, it may "be a delusion, but it has no less 
 beauty or power if to me it be real. In the weary 
 march ; in the silent hours of the bivouac ; in the 
 midst of death and carnage ; I shall feel her holy 
 presence. And if in the direful confusion, I fali, 
 and breathe out my life unnoticed by a comrade, 
 little Minnie will see me, and her gentle spirit will 
 make it calm as Heaven to me, and I shall die in 
 peace — in glory. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh ! John, do not, as we are about to 
 separate, allude to things so terrible. 
 
 John. Would you not, Mary, rather have me 
 fall fighting for my country, than return to you the 
 wretch I was a month ago ? 
 
 Mrs. M. I want you to do your duty, but I do 
 not want you to fall, even though you are again 
 degraded. The world may desert you, and look 
 upon you with disgust and loathing, but Mary 
 Marshall never will. 
 
 John. I know, Mary, that you have suffered 
 everything for my sake, and would^still suffer until 
 your life was worn away. But this is the resolve I 
 have made : it will not be long before I know if I 
 have strength to withstand the old temptation, and 
 if I am forced to yield, I shall watch for a post of 
 danger, and if demands are made for a heroic sac- 
 rifice, I shall be only too glad to face the death 
 storm, so that I can at least be able to do what 
 only the noblest man on earth can do, die for his 
 country. Then not all the odium that clings to my 
 name can rob it of the laurels with which the na- 
 tion en wreathes the names of all its martyrs. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 35 
 
 {Drum beats, l.) That call is for the guard. It is 
 probably to be taken off and dismissed to the com- 
 panies to get ready for the march. I will be back 
 soon. {Exit l.) 
 
 {Enter Willie, r., and takes his gun and equip- 
 mentsfrom his tent.) 
 
 Willie. These I must return. As the colonel's 
 orderly, I shall not need them. {Takes paper from 
 his pocket.) The first order I have to deliver, and 
 little time have I to do it in. Ah ! there is mother. 
 She is weeping. She must have heard that the 
 regiment is going to leave. I shall not be able to 
 return to camp again, and this is the last chance I 
 shall have to see her. I hate to bid her good-bye. 
 I can't do it. I would like her parting kiss, but I 
 know how it would be, and I am afraid I should 
 not be fit for the duty I have in hand. It may be 
 wrong to steal away from her, but I believe it will 
 spare pain to us both. {Music. Willie watches 
 his mother awhile and then exit l.) 
 
 {Enter Kate, r., and approaches Mrs. M. slowly.) 
 
 Kate. Has Willie gone without saying good-bye 
 to you % 
 
 Mrs. M. Willie gone? Why what do you 
 mean % 
 
 Kate. I thought he passed without speaking to 
 you. Poor boy ! I suppose he hadn't strength for 
 it. Oh, Mrs. Marshall, Willie has been sent to the 
 city as the colonel's orderly. He is not to come 
 back here, and he is already on his way. 
 
 Mrs. M. No ! no ! Willie would not go away 
 without bidding me good-bye. 
 
36 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Kate. Yes, he has. I know how it was. He 
 dreaded the sight of your tears and anguish. 
 (Looking, l.) There, he is mounting his horse now 
 to ride away. There he goes. No ; he stops and 
 turns about, he is dismounting — he comes this 
 way. He has relented ; he could not go away 
 without his mother's farewell blessing'. I will 
 leave ; I can't stand here to see that parting. {Exit 
 
 E.) 
 
 (Music. Enter Willie, l.) 
 
 Willie. Mother ! (He is impulsively folded in 
 her arms, and gives way to his emotion, and with 
 great effort leaves her. Exit l.) 
 
 Mrs. M. I didn't say a word of what I had to 
 tell him. (Calling.) Willie, one moment more. 
 (Exit l.) 
 
 (The soldiers off r. strike up the John Brown 
 song, and the company marches across the stage, 
 singing.) 
 
 Allegorical Tableau — Emancipation. 
 
ACT III. 
 
 Scene. — Landscape with set rocks, l. The Battle- 
 field at midnight. The ground strewn with dead 
 and wounded soldiers of the Union army. Mike 
 Donovan and James McDonald near each otlier, 
 c. Music. Allegorical Tableau : The Silent 
 Grand Bounds. 
 
 Mike. {Raising Ms head.) Ah, it's a dismal 
 night is this. See the poor fellows. Sure an what 
 is the reason that no one comes from the hospital 
 to care for the wounded ? The place cannot be far 
 from here, but divil a bit can I find the way in the 
 dark. It's no use to try to walk farther with that 
 hole plump through me leg. It can't be that the 
 bones are shivered, and so thim blasted doctors will 
 not be after sawing it off entirely. Faith I think 
 this is a Reb. (Zoohing at McDonald.) Divil a 
 bit does he stir. I think he must be kilt outright. 
 Hear the poor fellows groaning. It's nothing that 
 I can do for them. Sure it's weak that I am getting 
 meself. They say there are ladies here in the hos- 
 pitals, like blessed angels among the wounded and 
 dying. When I heard of it I thought of me own 
 darling Kate. It would be just like her to lend 
 her hand to work like this. Well, I'll sleep till 
 morning, then mebbv I'll find me way to the hos- 
 4 
 
38 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 pital, and have these poor fellows cared for. (sleeps.) 
 
 {Music. Enter Mrs. M., r. 1 e.~, looking at the 
 soldiers.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, my strength is going, I can hold 
 out no longer. (Sits on the rocks, l. 1 e.) If I 
 conld only find them. He told me that he heard 
 the roll call of Co. K, and that John Marshall and 
 Willie Marshall were missing. Perhaps wounded, 
 perhaps prisoners, perhaps dead ! He could not 
 have been mistaken, for he was the surgeon of the 
 regiment, and his brother an officer in John's com- 
 pany. I should not have left the hospital, for I 
 am needed there. Oh, how terribly faint and sick 
 I am growing ! (Reclines on the rocks.) 
 
 Mel). (Moving.) Water ! water ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Some one calling for drink. Here, I 
 have some water that I took in case some wounded 
 soldier might want it; but in my own misery, I 
 had forgotten it. Let me remember that other 
 sons and husbands than mine are suffering here. 
 I can care for them, and some kind hand may care 
 for mine. (Music. She attempts to rise, and sinks 
 fainting.) 
 
 McD. (Raising himself.) Can't some of you 
 give me a drink of water ? (Looks at Mike.) It's 
 a cursed Yankee. I'd die before I'd ask him for a 
 drink. 
 
 Mike. And faith, I'd die before ye' d get it of 
 me, and I'm a Yankee from the North of Ireland. 
 D'ye mind that now. So stop your .whimpering, 
 for I want to slape. 
 
 (Music. McD. draws a knife, arid with great 
 effort works himself towards Mike, and is about to 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 39 
 
 stab him when Mike rises up and wrenches the 
 knife from his hand.) 
 
 Mike. Ah, ye bloody savage ! It's well fur ye 
 that I'm a civilized creature, or it's mighty quick 
 that ye'd be sent to Davy Jones' locker. Faith I 
 think it wouldn't be murder at all to kill the likes 
 of ye. Kape still now, or I'll be tempted to do it. 
 (Aside.) Faith, I tell him so to scare him ; but 
 Mike Donovan could never harm a wounded soldier,, 
 though he were ten thousand times an enemy. I 
 would have given him water when he asked me for 
 it, but my canteen has been empty since noon* 
 He's still again. He's dying for water, I fear* 
 Sure, I can't see no human suffer that way, without 
 trying to help him. Mebby I can find some. 
 (Hises.) If I only had a crutch now, I could walk 
 with the greatest aise. (Looks at wound.) It's- 
 only a scratch, after all. (Touches foot to the 
 ground.) Och, murder ! but it hurts any how. 
 Sure here's a crutch for me. (Takes a gun and 
 uses it to assist him. Music. Exit, r. u. e.) 
 (Enter Martin and Lieut. White, l. u. e.) 
 
 Mar. I think it was somewhere here that he 
 fell. # 
 
 Lieut. W. It's so cursed dark that ye can't tell 
 one from- another. They seem to be all Yank& 
 here. Didn't we mow 'em down though ? 
 
 Mar. Here he is, but I believe he is dead. 
 (Bending over McD. Mary moves and moans.) 
 What's that ? 
 
 Lieut. W. It's a woman. (Goes up to Mary.) 
 I reckon it's one of them Sisters of Charity that 
 they have in the Yankee army. She's sick, I 
 
40 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 reckon. Pretty rough business this. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, sir, I'm terrible sick. Can't yon 
 take me back to the hospital ? 
 
 Lieut. W. I reckon that depends some on which 
 one ye mean. 
 
 Mar, Good Heavens ! it is Mary ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Edward ! Brother, this is a strange 
 meeting. 
 
 Mar. Strange ! I should say it was. What in 
 the world are you here for % 
 
 Mrs. M. You should know what I am here for. 
 It is for the work to which the Marshall family is 
 consecrated. A field has been opened where women 
 as well as men can show their love for the Union, 
 and give their lives, if need be, in defending the 
 honor of our nag. 
 
 Mar. Then you are an army nurse ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Call it what you like ; I minister to 
 the wounded and dying, and receive their blessings. 
 Some entrust me with a message to their homes, on 
 earth, while they bear for me a message to my home 
 in Heaven — the message to Minnie that we love 
 our country more and more, and with our lives will 
 defend it. 
 
 Mar. This is a strange fanaticism, Mary ; noth- 
 ing less than superstition. But I should .think you 
 would use more prudence. Why, your flesh is 
 burning hot ; you have a terrible fever. 
 
 Mrs. M. I know it. Oh, take me where I can 
 get something to help me, or I shall die. (FaintsC) 
 
 Mar. Poor Mary ! She must be taken to our 
 hospital at once, and then I will make arrange- 
 ments to have her conveyed to my home. (Music* 
 Mary is taken off, l. Exeunt.) 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 41 
 
 {Enter Willie, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Willie. It is very strange about father. He 
 was with us all through the battle, and did not dis- 
 appear until the fighting ceased to-night. Oh, I am 
 so tired, inarching and fighting all day in the dust 
 and smoke. I should have rested to-night, but I 
 could not sleep without learning something of 
 father. Oh, how terribly thirsty I am ! I have 
 heard of women going over the field, giving cool- 
 ing drink to the wounded soldiers. Oh, what 
 ministering angels they must be ! It seems to me 
 that there cannot be a nobler mission on earth. I 
 have often thought t hat mother would be just the 
 one to give her service to work like this. Oh, to- 
 receive a drink from the hand of darling mother t 
 (Approaches the canteen that Mrs. M. has dropped^ 
 with her glove clinging to the strap.) Here is a 
 canteen ; but of course it is empty. (Takes it up.) 
 No, there is water in it. What is this ? A glove 
 — so small— it must be a lady's. That glove ! 
 Why, no ; what a foolish thought ! Well, some 
 woman must have had this in her hand, and while 
 I drink I will imagine that mother left it here for 
 her darling Willie. (Music. He drinks.) What 
 was that ? It sounded like the voice of Minnie, 
 saying, " Mother did leave it there, Willie." I 
 begin to think that what father says of Minnie 
 may be true. It is no harm to think so. Oh, 
 what holy emotions the thought awakens ! All 
 fear and anxiety have left me, and for the first time 
 to-night I feel like sleep. (Lies down.) Why 
 need I fear for father, while Minnie watches over 
 him. (Dreamily.) Then it did come from the 
 4* 
 
42 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 hand of mother, after all. {Music. He sleeps*- 
 Allegorical Tableau — The Guardian Anoel.) 
 
 McD. Water ! give me some water ! 
 
 Willie. What was that ? 
 
 McD. For God' s sake, do give me something to* 
 drink, or I shall die. 
 
 Willie. {Going to McD.) Here, sir, here is 
 some. {Puts canteen to his lips.) Where are you 
 wounded ? 
 
 McD. Here, in the breast. It isn't so bad, the 
 wound ; but I was sick before the battle. Maybe 
 I shall die. You're a Federal soldier, but I can't 
 feel hard to you, you look so young. Oh, it's a 
 terrible thing for one like me to die, with a heart 
 black with crime ! {Sinks bach) 
 
 {Music. Enter Kate, r. 1 e.) 
 
 Kate. {To Willie.) Have you seen a lady about 
 here, sir ? A friend of mine left the hospital, be- 
 ing so anxious for her husband and son that are 
 missing, they say. She got up from a sick bed, 
 and if not found soon, she'll surely perish. 
 
 Willie. Can it be that this is Mrs. Donovan ? 
 
 Kate. Willie Marshall ! and safe from the 
 battle ! 
 
 Willie. Was it mother that you were looking 
 for? 
 
 Kate. Yes, Willie ; we both arrived on the 
 field to-day, after the battle commenced. Your 
 mother has made herself sick, and now I suppose 
 she is looking for you and your father. 
 {Music. Willie covers his face in deep emotion?} 
 Kate. {Speaking through the imisic.) What is 
 it, Willie? 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 43 
 
 (Willie picks up the canteen and glove, and 
 hands them to Kate.) 
 
 Kate. (Looking at them.) Why, this is Mary y s ; 
 glove, and this is the canteen she took from the 
 hospital. I fear something has happened to her. 
 Willie. Yon must go back, Mrs. Donovan, and 
 I will search for mother. Let me have the glove. 
 Keep the canteen ; there is water in it yet, and you 
 may find some wounded soldier almost dying from 
 thirst. {Exit l.) 
 
 Kate. I didn't ask him a word about Mike. I 
 didn't dare to, for fear the worst had happened - 
 Well, I must go back, for it's plenty of work there- 
 is for me in the hospital. 
 
 McD. Give me another drink. What makes 
 me so cursed dry ? (Sinks back.) 
 
 Kate. Here is some water. (He drinks without 
 noticing her.) 
 
 McD. Yes, it would make you shudder were I 
 to tell you one half my terrible deeds. Yet the 
 crime that the world may regard as the least, is to 
 me the source of bitterest remorse. Through my 
 influence my sister's husband was brought to ruin. 
 And I did it wilfully, knowing full well the misery 
 it would bring to her who had always been so kind 
 to me. I doubt if she ever suspected me ; for as 
 the dark days came upon her, she was kinder than 
 ever to me. But it was only torture. I could not 
 endure it, and for years I have not seen or heard 
 from her. But in the midst of these scenes of 
 death I think of her so often. Only a moment 
 ago, just after you gave me the first drink, I 
 thought I heard her voice. But I suppose my 
 
44 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 mind must have been wandering. Oh, Kate ! If I 
 could only see her once more to ask her forgive^ 
 ness ! (Sinks hack.) 
 
 Kate. His sister's name was Kate ! Can it be 
 that it is my brother James ? I believe to my soul 
 it is. James ! James McDonald ! 
 
 McD. Oh ! curse the dreams ! I wish they 
 wouldn't seem so real. (Looks at Kate.) Good 
 Heavens ! I am not awake yet ! Oh, madam, you 
 frightened me. Its so strange to see a woman in a 
 place like this. I was dreaming of my sister, and 
 you seemed just like her, when I saw you. 
 
 Kate. You were not dreaming, James ; for I 
 am indeed your sister. 
 
 McD. Oh, Kate, is it possible ? I was just 
 talking about you to the young fellow who gave 
 me the water. 
 
 Kate. You were talking to me all the time,, 
 James. 
 
 McD. He must have left after he gave me the 
 first drink, and it was you that gave me the other.. 
 . Kate. Yes, James, I gave you drink. 
 
 McD. Then you heard my confession. 
 
 Kate I knew it all before, James, and could see 
 that you were sorry for what you had done after it 
 was too late to do any good. When you were 
 suffering by repentance, how could I have the heart 
 to add to your misery by reproaches ? 
 
 McD. I wish I was deserving the love of such 
 a sister. I am growing weak again. Oh, Kate,, 
 don't let me die ! (Sinks back.) 
 
 Kate. I will go and see if I can get him takeik 
 to the hospital. (Exit b.) 
 
HOME AND COUNTEY. 45 
 
 {Music. Enter Rebel Soldiers, l., and carry off 
 McDonald.) 
 
 {HJnter Mike, e.) 
 
 Mike. Faith, I got ye' some water, but it took 
 me last bit of strength to do it. Sure, he's gone 
 jist entirely. I was a divilish fool for doing this^ 
 any way. {Lies down where McDonald had lain.) 
 It's set the wound in me leg bleeding so that I'm 
 afraid it'll be the death of me. If I could only be 
 taken to the hospital now, the doctors could fix 
 this. It is hard to be left to die, when a little help 
 could save me. {Sinks fainting.) 
 
 {Music. Enter Kate and soldiers with stretchers, 
 e. 1 e. Kate points to the place where McDonald 
 was lying, and goes off, e. The soldiers follow 
 with Mike.) 
 {Enter Capt. "Winslow, e., looking at the soldiers.) 
 
 Copt. They are all dead. I wish we could 
 give them better burial. But if we are driven 
 again tomorrow, there are many poor fellows that 
 will fare worse than these. 
 
 {Enter Jeeey, e., with spade.) 
 
 Jerry. I guess as how we've got the place deep 
 enough, Captain, and the boys are coining now to 
 take 'em up there. 
 
 {Music. Enter soldiers e., and carry off the 
 bodies.) 
 
 Jerry. I thought Mike Donovan was here, 
 somewhere. Must be he's crawled off. And there; 
 was a Keb here, too, he's gone. 
 
 Capt. I wish we could find John Marshall and! 
 Willie. Its singular about them. 
 
46 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Jerry. I don't know nothing about Willie, but 
 I know more about John than I wished I did. Now 
 I've been twitted a good deal about trying to injure 
 John Marshall, and I've been trying awful hard 
 lately to convince myself that I was wrong in my 
 suspicions on him. But what a fellow sees with 
 his own eyes he can't help believing. Now I saw 
 John Marshall when he left the company to-night, 
 and something or other put it into my head to 
 watch him, and what does the fellow do but go 
 right straight into them woods where we had such 
 an all-fired tussle with the Bebs, and take the hat 
 and coat of a Rebel officer, and keep right straight 
 on to the enemy's line. 
 
 Oapt. Do you expect me to believe this ? 
 
 Jerry. I'll be darned if it ain't always jest so. 
 Ye won't never believe nothing that I say about 
 him. But I don't care whether ye believe it or 
 not ; it's jest as true as thunder. (Exeunt, r.) 
 
 {Enter General Commanding-, l., disguised. 
 - Gen. I've half a mind to go back again. But 
 it's so confounded dark, I suppose it would be im- 
 possible for me to find out anything of their position 
 to-night. There is every indication that their 
 troops are being moved to my left, as if to strike 
 me on the flank in the morning. There are some 
 fires now just starting up away off in that direc- 
 tion. That accounts for the rattling I have heard 
 all through the night. It's well for me that I have 
 kept a sharp ear and a watchful eye. Ah, ha ! we 
 will just see about this little flanking game. But 
 what if it should only be a feint. What a fool I 
 was for not sending a spy into their lines last night 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 47 
 
 But then I did not expect this re-enforcement, that 
 now enables me to make a stand. Only for that I 
 should have been miles away before this. (Looks 
 l.) Ah, here comes a soldier from the direction of 
 the enemy. It may be an escaped prisoner ; if so, 
 I may get some information from him. {Enter 
 John.) Hold on a moment, sir. Have you been 
 within the Kebel lines ? 
 
 John. I don't know as it's any your business if 
 I have. 
 
 Gen. Perhaps you are right. But we'll know 
 better about that soon. You don't seem to recog- 
 nize me. 
 
 John. Can this be the General. I beg your 
 pardon, sir., I should have known you only for 
 your disguise. I will now answer your question 
 civilly. I have been inside the Rebel lines, and 
 can give you information that will be of value. 
 
 Gen. How happened you to be within their 
 lines ? Were you a prisoner ? 
 
 John. No, General, I entered in disguise. 
 
 Gen. For what purpose ? 
 
 John. To learn all I could to benefit our army. 
 You think it singular that I should undertake such 
 an enterprise upon my own responsibility. I can 
 hardly tell myself why I did. I seemed to be im- 
 pelled by some secret power. 
 
 Gen. {Incredulously?) That's rather singular. 
 What do you suppose it was % You don't think it 
 was an angel, do you ? 
 
 John. {Seriously.) Yes, General, I do. But 
 that makes no difference, I want to tell you what I 
 saw there. I suppose, sir, you have noticed signs 
 
48 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 of a movement of the enemy to our left. This I 
 observed as soon as I entered their lines, and 
 thought I had made a valuable discovery, and 
 hastened at once to return with the information. 
 But that was no easy matter, and for hours I beat 
 about trying to get through. But this was all 
 Providential, for in my wandering I discovered 
 that this movement was intended only as a decep- 
 tion. The noise proceeded from empty army- 
 wagons, and the fires you see off there are burning 
 houses, kindled purposely to give light. The whole 
 enemy's force is all massed right down in this 
 ravine. This feint was of course designed to make 
 you change your front, when this force, fresh from 
 a good night's rest, would fall upon your flank, and 
 annihilate your whole army. I hope you will par- 
 don me for presuming to give advice, but it is 
 evident that the enemy do not dream of such a 
 thing as being attacked. But their position is so 
 clearly defined, that even in the dark you could 
 march your forces upon them, surprise and rout 
 the whole army. 
 
 Gen. TEf this is so, my forces will be moving 
 down upon them at day-break. What is your 
 name, sir? (Takes out look.) 
 
 John. Marshall, John Marshall. 
 
 Gen. ( Writing}) I know a little fellow by the 
 name of Marshall. He use to be Col. Greene's 
 orderly. 
 
 John. That is my son, sir. He came back into 
 the company again awhile ago. He prefered to be 
 with me, and he thought it seemed more soldierly 
 to carry a gun than to ride about with orders. 
 
HOME AND OOUNTEY. 49 
 
 Gen. I want to know if you are his father, I 
 got quite interested in him. Now I remember, I 
 have heard the colonel speak of you. There was 
 some interesting circumstance about it. Oh, I 
 know, you were a graduate of Harvard, and started 
 in the profession of Law. I remember now. I am 
 glad I know who you are, for I should hardly want 
 to trust a stranger's story. You might be a spy 
 yourself. No. I can see the resemblance. I shall 
 be very glad to assist you. How would you like a 
 commission ? I will find a place for you soon. 
 
 John. I thank you very much, General ; but I 
 do not desire promotion. 
 
 Gen. Don't desire promotion ! What is the 
 reason % 
 
 John. Its the danger of such a position that 
 makes me shun it. 
 
 Gen. Danger ! I did not take you to be a man 
 that would think of such a thing, after taking the 
 fearful risk you have to-night. 
 
 John. It is not that kind of danger that I fear- 
 There is another enemy than the one our nation is 
 armed against, that I have to fight. One who for 
 centuries has waged continual war upon the whole 
 civilized world, spreading woe and desolation to so 
 many happy homes. You know what I mean, and 
 will understand why I feel safer in the ranks. 
 But believe me, sir, my whole soul is in this work, 
 and if there is any place where I can do more than 
 ordinary service, in an humble way — some dan- 
 gerous enterprise like the one I have engaged in 
 to-night — I want you to remember me. 
 
 Gen. You are a brave man, Mr. Marshall, and 
 
10 HOME AND COUNTRY, 
 
 lor such there is plenty of need. The service you 
 have rendered to-night is indeed great. Whether 
 guided by an angel or not, I believe you will be the 
 means of saving my army from destruction. You 
 may yet decide to take a commission. When you 
 do, don't fail to let me know. {Goes r., and meeU 
 Jerry, who enters.) 
 
 Jerry. I say, General, if he won't accept that 
 'commission, and ye can't get any other good man 
 for the place, I shouldn't wonder a darn bit but 
 what I might be induced to take it myself. I'm a 
 darn good soldier, especially on drilling recruits. 
 I had the promise of a commission once; but— 
 (Exit Gen. r.) I say, General, jest hold on a 
 minute. Perhaps you don't know who I be. That's 
 jest my luck. Darned if I believe I shall ever get 
 higher'n a corporal. Hullo, John, is that you? 
 He didn't offer that commission to yoti, did he % 
 
 John. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jerry. And you wouldn't take it ? 
 
 John. No, sir. 
 
 Jerry. Ye don't say so. Wall, I swan, if you 
 an't the darndest queerest critter I ever see. If 
 he'd offered me a commission, I'd taken it so quick 
 it would have made his head swim. That's so, by 
 lightning ! But I say, you, there's been kinder 
 queer goin's on here to-night. Who in thunder do 
 you think should turn up in the Sanitary corps but 
 Mary. Marshall and Kate Donovan, and both on 
 'em have been on the battle-held to-night. 
 
 John. Mary here to-night ! Where is she now % 
 
 Jerry. Wall, that's jest what I'm going to tell 
 ye if ye'll only give me a chance. I've jest been 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 51 
 
 down to the hospital, and seen Kate, and she told 
 me about it. You see Mary heard that you und 
 •Willie were reported in the company as missing, 
 and she got so excited about it, that she started 
 right out to find ye. She was jest about sick abed 
 when she left. When Kate heard on it she was 
 afraid something might happen, so she went right 
 out and tried to find her. She soon come across 
 Willie, who was looking for you, and when he 
 heard about his mother, he put off like mad right 
 away from our lines. I shouldn't wonder a bit 
 but what he run right plump on to the rebels, and 
 got taken . 
 
 John. And how is it about Mary ? 
 
 Jerry. Wall, I was going to tell ye about that r 
 if ye'd only give me a chance. You see Ed Mar- 
 tin is here among the Rebs, and came on the field 
 to-night to find one of his comrades that had been 
 wounded. He come across Mary so weak she 
 couldn't walk, and took her into the rebel lines. 
 
 John. How did you learn of this ? 
 
 Jerry. Wall, that's what I was going to tell ye y 
 if ye'd only give me a chance. You see Ed had 
 found his comrade, and left him to tend to Mary 
 first, and then sent some men back after him. One 
 of our men fired into 'em when they'se going back r 
 and wounded one. He was left behind and told 
 the story. 
 
 {Enter Willte, l.) 
 
 John. Ah, Willie, you are safe. 
 
 Willie. Have you heard about mother? 
 
 John. Yes ; and she is safe, so you must not 
 worry about her any more. It is already growing 
 
52 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 light, and the day's work will soon begin. The 
 army is to advance and surprise the enemy at an 
 early hour. We must seek our company at once- 
 Before an hour we shall again be engaged in the 
 work of death. "We know not which one of us 
 may fall to-day. All may be spared— all may be 
 slain. E"one but God knows. Willie, have I been 
 faithful thus far to the vow I made % 
 
 Willie. Yes, Father, you have. 
 
 John. Then if you or Jerry survive me, con- 
 trive to let Mary know that I was faithful to the 
 end — that I died like a man. {Exeunt r., u. e.) 
 (Enter Burgeon and Hospital corps, r., 1 e.) 
 
 Surgeon. This will be a good place. These 
 rocks will shelter us, and we shall be so close upon 
 the lines, that the wounded can soon be brought 
 here. Wc do not count on any retreat to-day, and 
 it is not likely that we shall be obliged to move. 
 The advance has already commenced on the left.. 
 Now follow them up closely, and be ready for 
 work. (Exit Hospital corps, l., u. e.) 
 
 (Enter Mike Donovan, r., 1 e., with crutch and 
 gun.) 
 
 Surgeon. Hold on here. Where are you going ? 
 
 Mike. Where am I going ? Where the divil 
 should a soldier be after going at this time, but 
 into the fight ? 
 
 Surgeon. You are in a pretty condition to go 
 into the battle. Look at that leg. 
 
 Mike. What the divil is the good of a leg in a 
 fight, but to run with ? Faith, its too many nimble 
 legs that ye have in the army already. Haven't I 
 me two hands to handle this with? I'll climb to 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 5# 
 
 the top of one of these rocks, and be a sharp- 
 shooter. 
 
 Surgeon. You'll go back to the hospital ; that's 
 what you'll do. 
 
 {Long roll off l., and the firing opens. Mike: 
 tries to escape from the Surgeon. A shell hursts on 
 the stage, and the Surgeon runs off, r. Mike. 
 mounts the rooks, l., 1 e., and fires. The shells 
 continue to burst. The Hospital corps pass l. to r* 
 with wounded on stretchers. The firing ceases, and 
 John is brought in wounded, l.) 
 
 Willie. (Entering, l.) Hold, that is father ; I 
 want to see him. (Mike comes up.) 
 
 John. Its nothing dangerous, Willie. Go right 
 back. 
 
 Willie. Oh, father, let me go with you. 
 
 John. No, Willie ; I will be cared for, and you: 
 are needed in the battle. Much as I love you, 
 much as I dread to see you go back into that fear- 
 ful carnage of death, I would have you do your 
 duty like the brave boy that I know you are. So 
 don't let any anxiety for me keep you from your 
 post. 
 
 Willie. You are right, father. But if there is 
 anything to make me seem a coward, it is love for 
 you and mother. I will return. 
 
 John. Willie, my dear boy, this may be the 
 last time that I shall see you. (Embraces him.) 
 
 (A shell hirsts on the stage, and all drop.) 
 
 END OF ACT 3. 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 Scene. — Fallen trees in a forest. Set rock, r. 
 Hebel guerrillas discovered seated on the logs y 
 singing. 
 
 {Enter Edward Martin, r.) 
 Mar. (To Lieut. White, who rises and salutes.) 
 Well, what have you had to-day ? 
 
 Lieut. W. No luck at all, Captain. We have 
 been scouring the country all day, but have dis- 
 covered nothing. All the Yankee sympathizers 
 seem to have made themselves scarce. They made 
 sorry work of it in trying to arm themselves against 
 the Raven Wings. 
 
 Mar. Well, Lieutenant, we have had some 
 excitement since you left this morning. Just before 
 noon a man who lives a few miles north, came rid- 
 ing down at a break neck speed, with the informa- 
 tion that a force of Federals had been moving in 
 this direction, and that they were now halted as if 
 for a rest only about ten miles away. Some of the 
 men had commenced scouting about the country, 
 he said ; so I sent out Sergt. Jackson with a squad 
 of men, and if he don't nab some of them I shall 
 lose my guess. I suppose you have had a hard 
 march to-day, but if you are not too much 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 55 
 
 exhausted I would like to have you start at once 
 for the Federal outposts, and show those Yankee 
 scoundrels the style of the Raven Wings. 
 
 {The men who have gathered about to listen, cheer 
 and ewpress their eagerness to go.) 
 
 Mar. Well then, my hearties, away with you ; 
 and let new luster be added to the fame of the 
 Raven Wings. (Exit guerrillas with loud cheers, 
 l.) They are in their glory now, and woe to the 
 Federal picket they light upon to-night. 
 (Enter Mrs. M., r.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Edward, I have been hunting for you 
 nearly all the afternoon. I have heard of the 
 advance of the Union army in this direction, and 
 it seems like a God-send to me, for I may be able 
 to reach their lines. It is terrible to live in the 
 midst of such scenes as daily transpire in this 
 locality. If I had had the least idea that you 
 would engage in such work as this, do you think 
 I would ever have come to live with you here ? 
 But now you must do all you can to get me to the 
 Union army. If it is moving upon Knoxville we 
 are right in its line of march, and you will only 
 have to leave me behind and my object will be 
 gained. 
 
 Mar. Why, Mary, I don't see why you need 
 complain. You have had all the comforts, and 
 even luxuries, that my home affords. And though 
 the Northern army move this way andmiestroy all 
 my property here, I shall still have the means to 
 provide for you. In Richmond, where I intend 
 you shall go, everything will be as pleasant as you 
 could wish. 
 
56 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Mrs. M. No, Edward. I do not wish to live 
 any longer in the midst of treason, for it is perfect 
 torture to me to hear and see it, as I am obliged to 
 from day to day. I am made to look with deeper 
 disgust and loathing every hour I remain, upon 
 the w r ork that is going on around me. 
 
 Mar. Well, Mary, I will not force you to stay 
 against your will, and if you insist upon it I will 
 aid you all I can. But it is growing dark, now, 
 and you must return to the house ; and it will not 
 do for you to venture out so much as you have. 
 
 Mrs. M. I know it is imprudent. But I was 
 so anxious to see you in regard to this matter, that 
 I could not wait till your return. I shall depend 
 upon your word and honor now, to help me as I 
 desire. (Exit, k.) 
 
 Mar. I am sorry for Mary, that's a fact. It 
 was wrong in me to take her here. It causes her 
 a great deal of pain, and her presence unfits me 
 for the duties of my office. Ah ! the influence 
 that comes from the heart of a pure minded sister, 
 has no place in the life of one whose heart must 
 be like steel. It is no use to be restrained thus. I 
 have been losing courage ever since Mack has 
 been away, and I am glad that his leave of absence- 
 has expired. Ah, there he is now. I knew he 
 would be up to his word. (Enter McDonald, l.) 
 I am glad to see you back, Lieutenant, for we are- 
 in great need of you now. 
 
 MgD. Well, I have had a gay time, Captain,, 
 and have come back refreshed and ready for work.. 
 What's in the wind now ? 
 
 Mar. The Yankees are advancing this way^ 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 5T 
 
 and are now halted only ten miles above here. 
 Our men are out now, feeling about their lines, and 
 and I expect some of them will soon be returning. 
 I should have gone out myself, only for my sister. 
 It was the worst thing I ever did to get her here. 
 I am not able to be myself while she is around. 
 
 McD. Well, I have not had anything to eat 
 since morning. 
 
 Mar. You know where to find it. I am going 
 to the house for awhile, and when you get through 
 return here and receive the report of any who may 
 come in. Make them give a full account of what 
 they have done, and if it appears that any one has 
 neglected his duty, you know what to do with him. 
 And there is another thing; some of our men 
 lately have brought in prisoners, not daring to take 
 the responsibility to shoot them down the moment 
 they fell into their hands. The circumstances were 
 somewhat peculiar ; but it makes no difference 
 what the circumstances are, if he is a Yankee or a 
 Yankee sympathizer he must have no quarter.. 
 And if any one from this army is brought in here 
 alive, I want you to shoot him down the minute 
 you set your eyes upon him, and punish his captors 
 with the utmost severity. ISTow, remember this. 
 
 McD. I will see to it, never fear. (Moit, l.) 
 
 Mar. I wish I had the nerve and will of that 
 man. It is a great mistake that he is not Captain 
 of the Raven Wings. (Miter John Marshall, r.) 
 What! John Marshall. How in the name of 
 Heaven came you here ? 
 
 John. Edward Martin, how in the name of 
 Heaven came you here ? 
 
0O HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Mar. Why, this is my home ; did you hot 
 know it ? 
 
 John. I knew that you lived in Virginia some- 
 where, but I supposed you would be in the Confede- 
 rate army. 
 
 Mar. Well, so I am. 
 
 John. I did not suppose you had any troops in 
 this vicinity except guerrillas. 
 
 Mar. Well, perhaps I am what you call a guer- 
 rilla. I command an independent organization r 
 called the Raven Wings. 
 
 John. What, Edward ! Are you the Captain 
 of that inhuman, blood thirsty clan, and is this the 
 neighborhood in which they operate? God help 
 poor Willie, if it is into their hands that he has 
 fallen. 
 
 Mar. Good Heavens ! what do you mean t 
 Has Willie been captured by my men ? 
 
 John. He has been taken by some one. We 
 were sent out together this morning for forage, and 
 while we were separated, I heard a shot in the di- 
 rection of Willie. I started leisurely for the place, 
 thinking as he had doubtless shot something, I 
 would go and see what it was. I searched for him 
 a long time and finding nothing, began to fear that 
 something serious had happened, and pushed on in 
 this direction. I soon found a negro hut, and was 
 told that two rebels just went past with a prisoner 
 who, .according to the description I received, must 
 have been Willie. I followed on with all speed, 
 to rescue him if possible. I suppose that in my 
 anxiety and eagerness, I have gone farther than I 
 mistrusted. But it seems to be providential, after 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 59 
 
 all, for I know that you will see that no harm 
 comes to him if he is brought to you. 
 
 Mar. Did you say they were bringing him 
 along alive? 
 
 John. Of course they would not take him nnless 
 he were alive. 
 
 Mar. It will be all right if he's spared until I 
 see him. 
 
 John. If he is spared ! What do you mean \ 
 Surely no one would be so inhuman as to murder a 
 mere child like him in cold blood. 
 
 Mar. I hope they will not. No, I feel quite 
 sure if they started with him alive they will bring 
 him in safe. But it will not do for you to be seen 
 here in that dress. You must go to my house at 
 once, and change it for another. Then if Willie is 
 brought in here, and it is known that his father 
 and mother are here, visitors and relatives of mine, 
 there will be no danger of his being harmed. 
 There is the house down there at the foot of the 
 hill. Mary is there now. I would go with you, 
 but I have business that demands my immediate 
 attention. {Exit John, e.) ISTow the first thing I 
 do must be to see McDonald. It will not do to 
 lose a moment. If such a thing as this should 
 happen I believe it would kill me. I hope John 
 will get safely to the house. {Looks off, e.) Good 
 Heavens ! there are two of my men out in the 
 field watching him. They are going to intercept 
 him. It will be just like them to shoot him. 
 There is no other way than for me to go with him. 
 Oh God ! it is a terrible strait in which I have 
 been placed. Willie may be brought in at any 
 
60 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 moment, and be shot by my orders. But I will bo 
 back directly. {Exit r.) 
 
 {Music. Enter Sergt. Jackson and two guer- 
 rtias, l., leading Willie, looking very pale and 
 weak. His coat sleeve is stained ivith blood as if he 
 had received a wound in the arm.) 
 
 Sergt. J. There, my little fellow, we have got to 
 our journey's end for the present. Here is where 
 we always report after our raids. 
 
 (Willie lies down. Music—" Who will care for 
 Mother now") 
 
 {Enter McDonald, l.) 
 
 McD. Hullo, what have you here? A little 
 dead Yank ? (Willie moves.) Oh, he's alive, is 
 he ? What did you bring him in here that way 
 for ? You will have to suffer for this now. The 
 captain has left imperative orders to shoot instant- 
 ly every prisoner that is brought in alive, and se- 
 verely punish his captors. 
 
 Willie. Oh, sir, do not shoot me. {Appealing 
 to the Sergt.) You will not let him, will you? 
 You prevented these men to-day from killing me. 
 Tell him all that I have told you. That I have a 
 mother who thinks so much of me, that she is 
 living in this State. Tell him how much she has 
 suffered ; tell him how little Minnie died, and how 
 father suddenly became changed, and how kind ho 
 has been to us all. Oh, sir, you will intercede for 
 me. 
 
 McD. Ah, ha ! then this is the fellow that is 
 responsible for all this. His case will be attended 
 to directly. (Aims pistol at Willie.) 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 61 
 
 Willie. Oh, don't, don't. (The pistol snaps.) 
 
 McD. Confound the pistol ; I never knew it to 
 miss before. 
 
 Willie. Oh, spare me now. It was the hand of 
 .some good angel that prevented that shot. You 
 surely will not shoot me now. 
 
 McD. Perhaps your good angel you speak 
 .about will make this pistol miss fire again. Let 
 me try it. (The pistol snaps again.) The devil is 
 in it, sure enough. I'll try it once more, and if it 
 don't go, I'll give it up for the present. 
 
 Sergt. Oh, Lieutenant, how can you have the 
 Jieart to do it ? I appeal to you in the name of 
 Heaven. Consider his youth, his mother, his 
 father, who is his comrade in arms. If you could 
 near his story, how his life so long dark has recent- 
 ly been lighted up. How his young heart glows 
 with bright hopes just kindled there. Oh, how 
 can you shoot down in cold blood one so young 
 and fair ? 
 
 McD. That's a fine speech, and here is the 
 reward. (Shoots the Sergt. dead.) The good 
 angel didn't stop that, did it. my little covy ? Sow 
 we'll try it once more on you. (Fires at "Willie, 
 who receives the shot in his side, groans, and sinks 
 bach.) That don't quite fetch him, I guess. This 
 will settle him. (Points pistol close to his head.) 
 
 (Enter Martin, r., and stops him.) 
 
 Mar. Hold ! Great Heavens ! do you know 
 what you have been doing ? This is Willie Mar- 
 shall, my sister's only child. Oh, you villain, you 
 have killed him. (Grasps McDonald by the throat) 
 
 6 
 
62 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 McD. Hold on, Captain, this is no way to treat 
 a man for strict obedience to orders. 
 
 Mar. I know it, I can't tell what I'm about. 
 It's all my fault. Oh God, what will Mary say? 
 He is not dead. What do you stand staring there 
 for, men ? Why don't you run and get him some- 
 thing to drink, and dressing for his wound ? {Exit 
 men, l.) Willie, Willie Marshall. 
 
 Willie. {Opening his eyes.) Uncle Edward, is 
 it you 1 ' Is mother with you ? 
 
 Mar. No ; but I expect she will be here soon. 
 
 Willie. She will dress my wound when she 
 comes, and if they will let her take care of me, 
 perhaps I will get well. ~No one could ever tend 
 me like mother. Oh, how weak and faint I am. 
 
 (Soldiers return with a dish of water, a -flask of 
 brandy, bandages, <&e.) 
 
 Mar. {To one of the men.) You go to the 
 house, and have my sister come here immediately. 
 Now run for your life. {Exit Soldier, r.) Now, • 
 Willie, take a drop of this, it will give you 
 strength. (Willie drinks from th e flask. ) Where 
 is your wound % 
 
 Willie. Here, in the side. I was wounded in 
 my arm, too, before I was taken, but that is not so 
 bad as this. 
 
 Mar. {Examining the wound in his side.) Oh, 
 see the blood ! Hand me some of that cloth. 
 {Fixes the wound.) There, that will stop the bleed- 
 ing some. Have some more drink. Here is some 
 water. 
 
 Willie. Do you belong with these men, uncle 
 Edward? 
 
 Mar. Yes, Willie, I am their captain. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 63 
 
 Willie. Their captain ! Was it then by your 
 orders that I was shot ? 
 
 Mar. Yes, Willie, I did leave orders to have 
 all shot that were brought in alive. It is the com* 
 naon practice of all bands like ours. We do it 
 that we may be able to wield greater power in re- 
 pelling invasion. But I did not once dream that 
 you would be taken. Oh, I feel as if I were your 
 murderer, and you must regard me as such. 
 
 Willie. Oh no, uncle, I do not indulge in any 
 thoughts of the kind whatever. It was only a 
 mistake, and I am sure you have been very kind to 
 me, and are doing all you can for me now. Oh, if 
 you had only been here when I first came, you 
 could have saved me, couldn't you ? 
 
 Mar. I hope I did. come soon enough to save 
 your life. Your mother will soon be here, and she 
 will dress your wound, and we will arrange some- 
 thing and take you to the house. I don't believe 
 your wound is very dangerous. 
 
 Willie. It's no use to hope. I am growing- 
 weak fast, and cannot hold out much longer. But 
 I want to see mother before I die. Why don't she 
 come ? 
 
 {Sinlcs hack. Music — " Who will care for mother 
 now.") 
 
 {Enter Mrs. M., k.) 
 Mrs. M. Oh, Willie, my darling boy, they have 
 murdered him. Poor innocent child, it seems but 
 yesterday that I held him to my breast and listened 
 to his childish prattle. So young and childish, how 
 could they shoot him so ? Oh, Willie, tell me who 
 has been so cruel to you. Look up to me, darling, 
 it is I, your mother. 
 
64 
 
 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Willie. Oh, mother, they would shoot me, al- 
 though I begged so hard for them to spare me. I 
 told them all about you, all about father and Min- 
 nie. I told how much you loved me, for I thought 
 that perhaps they might know something of a 
 mother's love, and that I might gain their sympa- 
 thy. One of them did intercede for me, and he 
 was shot down for it. Oh, mother, I don't believe 
 you can do anything for me. It's a terrible wound. 
 
 Mrs. M. Who was it that shot you after you 
 were brought here ? 
 
 Willie. That is the one. {Pointing to McD.) 
 
 McD. I did it by your brother's orders, Mrs* 
 Marshall. 
 
 Mrs. M. Edward Martin, is this so % 
 
 Mar. No, Mary, not as you understand from 
 him. Oh God, don't make it any worse than it is. 
 Oh, Mary, I believe it will kill me. (To McD.) 
 Why don't you tell her just how it is, don't you 
 see that I can't do it myself ? • 
 
 McD. Well, all there is about it is that Cap tain- 
 Martin gave me strict orders to shoot instantly 
 every Yankee that was brought in here alive. He 
 said it didn't make any difference what the circum- 
 stances were, to spare the victim on no .condition 
 whatever. If his orders had not been so impera- 
 tive, I think I should have spared the boy after his 
 earnest appeal to me. But I always make it a 
 point to obey orders. Have I told it about straight,, 
 Captain ? 
 
 Mar. Yes, it is all true. I am responsible for 
 the whole. Oh, that the lightning from Heavent 
 would strike me dead. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 65 
 
 (Enter Lieut. White and guerrillas.) 
 
 Lieut. W. We are closely pursued by some 
 Yankee troops. They are almost upon us. 
 
 McD. How large is the force ? 
 
 Lieut. W. There cannot be a great many of 
 them. I think it would be well to make a stand 
 here. 
 
 Mar. Lieut. McDonald, you take command. I 
 am tit for nothing now. 
 
 McD. All right. Now, men, get shelter behind 
 these logs and stumps, and fight like tigers. 
 
 (The men take positions for defense, passing over 
 the form of Willie, and crowding Mrs. M. to the 
 r. Martin stands in a sort of stupor in front, l. 
 c. Union soldiers fire off l., and Martin falls. 
 Mrs. M. goes off, r. The fire is returned by the 
 Rebels, and kept up for awhile on both sides. The 
 Rebels fall back to the r. Willie and one of the 
 wounded rebels are carried off, r. The dead are 
 left where they fall. The Union troops, "Co. K" 
 appear l., firing. The Rebels return the fire off r., 
 and some of the Federals fall. The rest shout and 
 charge across the stage.) 
 
 Mar. (Raising his head.) Our men are routed 
 sure enough. I wonder how Willie is. I mus 
 try and get to him. I may yet be instrumental h 
 saving his life. Oh, God ! how I bleed. 
 
 (Music. He crawls towards the place where Wil- 
 lie lay, and where a Union soldier now lies on his 
 face. He turns him over.) 
 
 Mar. No, it is not Willie; but he looks as 
 
 6* 
 
66 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 young and as fair. His lips move, he whispers, 
 "Mother." It is somebody's darling. (Music. — 
 "Somebody's Darling") Hear him breathe the 
 names of dear ones at home. Ah, my poor boy, 
 no mother or sister can hear you. They are hun- 
 dreds of miles away. God help them when they 
 hear of this. Oh, I am growing weak ! Where 
 is "Willie? I must find him while I yet have 
 strength. {Music. Attempts to move, out % sinks 
 exhausted.) 
 
 (Enter Mrs. M. and John, r. The latter as a 
 guerrilla.) 
 
 Mrs. M. This is the place. Here is Edward. 
 
 Mar. Mary, is it you % IJiave been trying to 
 find Willie, but my strength has failed me. 
 
 John. (Approaching^) Edward Martin ! 
 
 Mar. Oh, John, don't curse me. I have been 
 very cruel ; I have brought you this terrible afflic- 
 tion ; but it was not intentional. I tried my best 
 after you came to prevent it. I could have done 
 it had I not been obliged to go with you. !Nb, 
 John, I have never wilfully wronged you in 
 thought or deed; for I always loved you like an 
 own brother. 
 
 John. Don't talk that way, Edward, I bear you 
 no malice. I do not entertain one hard thought 
 towards you. I understand it all. Where is 
 Willie ? 
 
 Mar. I don't know. He was lying here. I 
 thought that wounded soldier there was he ; but it 
 is not. (Search is made for Willie.) Can't you 
 find him ? Then some of my men must have 
 carried him off. 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 67' 
 
 John. Where do you think they would take 
 him? 
 
 Mar. To "Richmond. We intended to fall back 
 there when your army advanced. 
 
 ■ John. Then I will follow in that direction. I 
 can pass to-night as one of your men. God may 
 help me to find Willie, and save him yet. 
 
 Mar. You are not going, Mary. You will not 
 leave me here to die all alone. I know I am not 
 worthy a sister's care, but I am in such misery. 
 
 John. No, Mary, it will be impossible for you 
 to go with me, and you are needed here. I must 
 be off at once. There is danger before, and this 
 may be our last parting. Good-bye, Edward ; re- 
 member that I hold nothing against you. May 
 God restore you to health. Good-bye, Mary ; I 
 shall not go alone. The same bright angel that I 
 so often have seen in the lone silent hours of the 
 bivouac, will be with me still. Good-bye. {Exit b.) 
 Mar. See if you cannot do something for this 
 poor fellow, he is moaning so piteously, and calling 
 for his mother. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, how he looks at me with his 
 glazing eye ! See him grasp my hand. He thinks 
 I am his mother. What a heavenly light beams in 
 his face. He is dead. Poor boy, did you die 
 thinking that your own darling mother was bend- 
 ing over you? Then this shall be her farewell kiss. 
 {Music—" Let me kiss him for his mother: ") If 
 Willie dies like this, who will give him the fare- 
 
 - well kiss of mother ? {Two shots off, e.) What 
 
 -can be the matter now ? 
 
 ■ Mar. Perhaps John has been mistaken for an 
 enemy by his own men, and fired at. 
 
68 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, then they have killed him ! God 
 help me, if they have ! 
 
 (Mite? 1 John hastily, as if pursued.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh John, yon are safe. Were you 
 fired at ? 
 
 John. Yes, but I was not hit. 
 
 Mike. (Off ^ Be aisy now, I have a bead 
 drawn on him. 
 
 Jerry. (Offn.) Gol darn it, hold on. Don't 
 ye know nothing or don't ye ? You allured 
 gauming Irishman, that's a female woman. 
 
 Mike. Away wid yer blarney. Its not her at 
 all at all that I'm aiming at. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, they're so slapping close together, 
 ye can't tell which ye may hit. We can take him 
 now without shooting him. 
 
 (Enter Jerry and Mike, r.) 
 
 Jerry. John Marshall ! and Mary too ! Was 
 it you, John, that we fired at just now ? Where 
 were you going ? 
 
 John. I was going in search of Willie. 
 
 Jerry. Now, John Marshall, what ye have been 
 telling me may be true as gospel. But I must say 
 that it does have kinder of a scaly look to me. 
 Now, Mike Donovan, what did I tell ye? When 
 the Marshalls came up missing this morning I knew 
 there was something in the wind ; cos I knew that 
 Ed Martin lived somewheres here abouts. You 
 understand now how the guerrillas got scent of us, 
 and if it hadn't been for me mistrusting what's up, 
 we'd have been caught napping, jest as true as the 
 world. Now, Mike, ye know how ye'd never be- 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 69 
 
 lieve what I said about this thing ; but now its al} 
 before your eyes as plain as broad daylight. There 
 lies Edward Martin, captain of the guerrillas, and 
 there stands John Marshall, and ye see how he i& 
 dressed, and you know where he was trying to go^ 
 jes now, when we fired at him. As a friend, John? 
 Marshall, I wouldn't in the least ways harm ye ; 
 but as corporal of Co. K., I must do my duty.. 
 You stand guard here, Mike, while I go for the* 
 captain and he shall see the thing jest as it is. 
 
 Mike. Jerry Jowler, ye haven't half heard his 
 story; and if what ye suspect be true, why can't 
 we let him off. If its to the captain ye are going 
 with that message, ye'll have to walk over the dead 
 body of Mike Donovan. {Raises his gun.) 
 
 John. I will tell you just how it is. Willie was 
 captured this morning by guerrillas, and I followed 
 in pursuit, till I reached this place, and found 
 Edward Martin. He took me to his house, and 
 promised that he would prevent harm falling to 
 Willie. He told me to change my clothes, so that 
 I would not be in danger from his men. Willie 
 was brought to this place, and shot by one of the 
 guerrilla officers, as he had been previously ordered 
 by the captain in case any one should be brought 
 in alive. Our company then advanced, and Willie 
 was taken by the guerrillas in their retreat. I 
 came here from the house after the fight, and find- 
 ing that Willie had been carried away, I- resolved 
 to follow him and do all I could to save him. I 
 had just started when I encountered you. 
 
 Mar. ( Who has been listening.) Jerry Jowler, 
 you will not doubt the word of a dying man. 
 
70 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Then hear ine swear before God, that all he said 
 of what transpired between him and me is true as 
 Heaven. I have sounded the heart of John Mar- 
 shall ; I have tried to tempt, tried to bribe him, 
 and I believe no power on earth can make him 
 violate in deed, in word, in thought, or in spirit^ 
 the promise he made to his dying Minnie. 
 
 Jerry. Wall, Edward, some how or other I can't 
 help believing you. I am brought to my senses at 
 last. What a gol darned fool I have been. Now, 
 Mike Donovan, I am jest the chap that'll go snucks 
 with ye, on anything ye'll undertake to save little 
 Willie. 
 
 Mike-. Then, with God's leave, we will all 
 three start this blessed minute on the road to Rich- 
 mond. 
 
 John. Yes; four of us. I never forget the 
 bright angel that God sends to guide my steps, and 
 keep my spirit undefined. 
 
 Mar. There ; she is waiting for you now. You 
 do not see her there ? Oh, how beautiful ! 
 
 {Allegorical Tableau shown behind the scene as 
 the curtain falls.) 
 
ACT V. 
 
 Scene. — Same as Act 4. 
 
 {Filter Mrs. Marshall and Kate, r.) 
 
 Mrs. M. This is the place where Willie was 
 shot. That was nearly a year ago. 
 
 Kate. Then it was here that you saw the last 
 of Mike. It is strange that nothing can be heard 
 from them. 
 
 Mrs. M. Not so very strange, for it was a 
 dangerous mission they started upon. Poor Willie, 
 he could not have lived long after he left here, for 
 he had a terrible wound in the breast. It is torture 
 to think that he must have died all alone, to be 
 buried in some desolate spot. Even the solace of 
 visiting his last resting place, and strewing his 
 grave with flowers, is denied me. The rest may 
 have been taken prisoners. That is all the hope I 
 have left. But the chances of surviving the tortures 
 of those Southern prison pens are indeed small. 
 
 Kate. Then you have been here ever since that 
 night. 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes ; I told John that I would wait 
 until he returned. And I can't bear the thought 
 of leaving until I hear something from them. This 
 place has been in communication with the North 
 ever since that night. I have heard from the regi- 
 
72 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 ment several times, and nothing is known of them 
 there. 
 
 {Enter James McDonald, l. The ladies start 
 with fear}) 
 
 McD. Don't be frightened, ladies. I'm not a 
 bear, that I'll eat ye up. What ! By my soul, if 
 there isn't Kate again. 
 
 Kate. Brother James ! Oh, I am so glad to see 
 you. I did not know but you died that night after 
 I left you. I went to the hospital after some men 
 to bring you in. I pointed out the place where I 
 supposed you laid ; but when the men came into 
 the hospital, it was my own husband, Mike, that 
 they had in place of you. And, James, he told 
 me how it happened. He said he had been lying 
 beside you, and I suppose you must have got wild 
 like, for he said you attempted to kill him because 
 he couldn't give you water. Then after that he 
 took pity on you, and though he was wounded so 
 that he could hardly walk, he started to try and 
 find you something to drink. It was while he was 
 gone that I saw you. Then after I left you he 
 returned, weak from the loss of blood, and found 
 you gone. He sank fainting in the very place 
 where you had lain, and was taken in your stead. 
 And the young fellow who gave you the drink 
 before I did, was Willie Marshall. 
 
 McD. (Drawing Kate, l.) Ask that woman 
 to leave, I don't want her here. I've got some- 
 thing to say to you. (Kate goes to Mary.) It is 
 Mrs. Marshall,' the mother of the boy I killed. 
 (Exit Mrs. M, r. Kate returns}) Wasn't that 
 Mrs. Marshall ? 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 73 
 
 Kate. Yes. 
 
 McD. Do you know about her boy being shot 
 here ? 
 
 Kate. Yes ; she told me all about it. 
 
 McD. I was the man, Kate, that murdered 
 him. 
 
 Kate. What ! James McDonald, kill that noble 
 young boy, after he begged you over and over 
 again to spare him. Oh, James, I knew you were 
 bad and wicked, but I didn't think you were cruel 
 enough for that. 
 
 McD. I am cruel enough for anything, Kate. 
 But I believe this thing will be the death of me yet. 
 It gives me the horrors half the time. Do you 
 know, Kate, that I believe that murdered boy 
 haunts me. 
 
 Kate. Oh, James, don't talk so ; it makes, me 
 shudder. 
 
 McD. Its the truth, and I am made a coward 
 by it. The men all know it, too. 
 
 Kate. Its only your imagination, James. 
 
 McD. No, no, it isn't so. I wish to God it 
 was. Let me tell you one thing that happened. 
 When I was acting as scout, I had in my room one 
 night important dispatches locked in a valise. 
 Some time in the middle of the night I awoke. 
 The room was light, and I saw some one at the 
 table, and he seemed to be copying from the dis- 
 patches. His features were turned towards me, 
 and I recognized Willie Marshall. I covered my 
 face in horror, and lay trembling all the rest of the 
 night. In the morning I found the dispatches safe 
 where I had left them, and I thought it must have 
 
 7 
 
74 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 been some horrid nightmare or something of the 
 kind. But I afterwards learned that a literal copy 
 of those dispatches had been carried to the enemy. 
 Other similar cases have occurred. He has also 
 been seen by my men. Oh, it is terrible ! {Shud- 
 ders.) This is the first time I have been here since 
 he was killed. And the [sight of his mother-— Oh, 
 Kate ! I wish I had died that night you saw me on 
 the battle-field. 
 
 Kate. Oh, don't talk so ; think of something 
 else. How does it happen that you are here ? 
 
 McD. I came here in search of a spy. He is 
 an old man, or some one disguised as an old man. 
 He has carried important information from our 
 army to the Yankees several times. We have been 
 completely deceived by him, but at last he was de- 
 tected, and a large reward is offered for his capture. 
 I have got on his track, and I think he has come 
 this way. I was going to Martin's house. My 
 men were ordered there by different routes, so I 
 had better be there myself to prevent their commit- 
 ting any depredations. (Exeunt R. Music. Enter 
 John, Jerry mid Mike, l, pale and emaciated.) 
 
 John. (Sinking upon the ground.) It's no use, 
 I can't go any farther. My strength is all gone. 
 
 Mike. Faith, I don't much wonder. Its not a 
 very good chance that it was to raise muscle down 
 there in Libby. But ye were sick with fever when ye 
 left. Sure its a wonder that ye ever walked a 
 mile. Divil a bit have we had to ate since we 
 started. I don't see what has put the strength 
 into ye. 
 
 John. It was the yearning for the sight of the 
 loved ones at home. But I nave given up now, I 
 
HOME AND OOtTNTKY. Y5 
 
 have given up. Gro along without me. Let me 
 die here. 
 
 Jerry. John Marshall, we ain't going to do 
 nothing of the kind whatsumever. Ever since 
 that night I was brought to my senses, hain't I 
 stuck to ye like a brother ? 
 
 John. Yes, Jerry, you have. I know that only 
 for your rash attempt to rescue me, you would 
 never have suffered in that loathsome prison. 
 
 Jerry. And if you imagine that I'm going to 
 desart ye now, you are teetotally and everlastingly 
 mistaken. I believe if we hadn't kept in the woods 
 aad fields all the way, and gone to some of the 
 houses and got something to eat, it would have 
 been a darned sight better for us. 
 
 Mihe. If we'd done that we'd got gobbled up 
 long ago. Its a divilish sharp eye that they're 
 kaping on these fellows escaping from prison. 
 
 Jerry. Somehow or other this place looks kinder 
 natral. Darned if I don't believe this is the very 
 spot where we had that fight with the guerrillas. 
 I say, didn't Ed Martin have a house near by here ? 
 
 John. Yes. 
 
 Mike. And it wouldn't be strange at all if Main- 
 was there this blessed minute. 
 
 John. It isn't likely that she would stay there 
 so long. 
 
 Mike. Don't ye be too sure of that now. Didn't 
 she say she'd wait until we came back ? 
 
 Jerry. Look here, John, it isn't but a little ways 
 down to the house. Can't ye muster up strength 
 enough to go ? I don't suppose I can help ye a 
 darn bit, for its all I can do to crawl now. I guess 
 jts about the same with you, ain't it, Mike ? 
 
76 ' HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Mike. Faith, yer right. It never agreed with 
 me to go without ateing. Me appetite was always 
 a dale of trouble to me. Do you remember, Jerry, 
 the fuss I made over that prater ? Faith, wouldn't 
 I like to see that prater now ? 
 
 Jerry. We didn't know what hard times was 
 then, did we, Mike ? I say, John, I've got a little 
 brandy here in a bottle. If ye'll take some of this, 
 it may give. ye strength to get down to the house. 
 
 John. ISTo, no, take it away. Haven't I pledged 
 myself never to touch it ? 
 
 Jerry. But this 'ere is different I wouldn't 
 offer it to you under no circumstances, John, if I 
 didn't think yer life depended on it. 
 
 John. I prefer death to the violation of that 
 vow registered in Heaven. Why don't you go on ? 
 Its no use trying to save me. 
 
 Mike. "Wasn't it both of us that said we 
 wouldn't leave ye as long as ye lived. Faith, it's 
 meself that took the same vow ye did, and God 
 knows that thus far I've kept it. But if I was in 
 your place, I should think it me duty to take any- 
 thing that would put strength into me. 
 
 John. Jerry, Mike, are you determined to stay 
 with me, and thus throw away your lives ? 
 
 Jerry. John Marshall, you talk about vows, and 
 their being registered in Heaven. Now haven't 
 we all sworn to stand by each other until we were 
 safe beneath the Old Flag ? 
 
 John. Let me take the bottle. Do you think 
 this would give me strength 1 
 
 Jerry. There ain't much doubt about that. 
 That stuff will revive a man wonderfully, when 
 he's weak like you* 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. Y7 
 
 John. Would to God, it would do nothing more. 
 "Well, for your sake, I will drink it. {Raises the 
 bottle.) No, no, I can't. I seem to see the implor- 
 ing face of that dying girl, pleading with tearful 
 eyes for me not to touch it. No, Minnie, darling, I 
 won't do it. No, I won't. 
 
 Mike. {Looking l.) Ah, d'ye mind that, Jerry ? 
 
 Jerry. It's rebs, just as sure as I'm alive. 
 
 Mike. And they're coming this way. 
 
 Jerry. No, they're cutting across towards the 
 house. But they'll come plaguey snug to us, and 
 if we don't lay pretty darned low they'll see us, 
 and then w r e're gone suckers. There, they've got 
 
 by. 
 
 Mike. They're after us, sure. We must be 
 after hiding somewhere. Come, John, take a drink 
 of the brandy. 
 
 John. Won't you go without me? 
 
 Jerry. I kinder kalculate we won't. 
 
 , {Music. John raises the bottle slowly to his lips 
 and is about to drink, when Mart enters, r., and 
 dashes it away. — Picture. 
 
 Jerry. Ain't any of ye ever going to speak. 
 Don't be frightened, Mary; he hasn't touched a 
 drop on it. Ye see, he was going to drink it to 
 give him strength. He wouldn't do it no how to 
 save himself. But ye see, Mike and I were bound 
 not to go along without him, and he was doing it 
 jest to save us. 
 
 Mike. Faith, and I think it was a divilish mane 
 thing in us, anyway, for allowing him to do it. 
 
 Mrs. M. How does it happen that you are here 
 jn this terrible condition ? 
 
 John, We are refugees from Libby prison in 
 
78 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 Richmond. We escaped nearly a week ago. The 
 night we left here in search of Willie, we were 
 taken prisoners, and have been confined ever since. 
 
 Mrs. M. Have von ever heard anything about 
 Willie ? 
 
 John. Not a thing. Have you ever heard from 
 the regiment? 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes ; nothing is known of him there. 
 
 John. Then he must be dead. Poor Willie ! I 
 had hoped that he might have survived. 
 
 Mike. Mrs. Marshall, is it anything that ye've 
 heard of Kate ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes, Mike ; she is here now stopping 
 with me. She is down there in the house with her 
 brother, James. 
 
 Mike. Faith, that puts more strength into me 
 than a whole barrel of brandy, or whiskey aither. 
 I'll go right down there this blessed minute. 
 
 Jerry. See if ye can't find something to eat 
 down there. 
 
 Mike. Divil a bit will I forget that. 
 
 Mrs M. Yes, have Kate bring some up as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 John. Mary, the vow has not yet been broken. 
 For four years I have fought the enemy that would 
 ruin our country, and struggled with the demon 
 that would destroy the peace of our home. For 
 four years the bright angel has watched over me, 
 for four years I have been a man. 
 {Shots off K.) 
 
 Mike. {Off e.) Faith, ye dropped two on 'em, 
 but the rest are after you. {Enters.) Come right 
 this way now, and I'll hide ye and put them off 
 the tracks (Enter Willie, disguised as an old 
 
HOME AND COUNTRY. 79 
 
 maun, and Mike throws a blanket over him, next to 
 the rock, r. 1 e.) It's a Union man that he is, 
 hunted down by the Rebs. Here they come after 
 him now. 
 
 (Miter James McD., r.) 
 
 McD. Mike Donovan, is that you ? 
 
 Mike. Jim McDonald, for the sake of Kate I'll 
 take yer hand. 
 
 McD. I am in pursuit of an old man, that we 
 suspect is a spy. Have any of you seen him ? 
 
 Mike. Yes, I seen him. There he goes now, 
 running like the divil. Ye better hurry up, or 
 ye'll lose him. 
 
 {Enter Guerrillas, r.4 e.) 
 
 McD. Here, men, fall in right here, in one 
 rank. Are all your guns loaded ? (Men respond. 
 He goes down the line, and whispers to each man. 
 Kate enters, r.) Ready, aim ! (The men aim at 
 the blanket?) Now, sir, my fine fellow, we've got 
 you. Six loaded muskets are aimed at you ; and, 
 unless you rise and surrender, we shall fire. You 
 have shot two of our men already, and it will not 
 do for you to tempt us further. Come, sir, rise and 
 show yourself. 
 
 (Music. Willie throws off the blanket, and ap- 
 pears without the disguise. McDonald and his 
 men stand appalled.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Willie Marshall ! 
 
 Willie. Here I am, all safe and well. Father, 
 what is the matter with you ? 
 
 John. Nothing, Willie, only worn out with 
 fatigue and hunger. 
 
80 HOME AND COUNTRY. 
 
 McD. Alive ! Willie Marshall, do you remem- 
 ber me ? 
 
 Willie. Yes, sir, you were the man that shot 
 me that night. 
 
 McD. I will not ask you to forgive me. But 
 if God will spare my life, I will show you and 
 your parents that I am penitent. Mike and Kate, 
 I have wronged you both, but I know that you will 
 help me to become an nonest man. The first thing 
 I do towards reformation will, be to denounce the 
 Southern Confederacy. Then, with my company, 
 I will see that you and your friends are safe be- 
 neath the Old Flag. 
 
 {Enter Lieut. White, l.) 
 
 Lieut. White. Captain McDonald, you are 
 ordered to report immediately to Gen. Mosby. 
 Lee has surrendered the Army of Northern Vir- 
 ginia, and Mosby's men are to give their parole 
 with the rest. 
 
 John. Lee surrendered ! Then the war is vir- 
 tually ended. Ah ! this gives me strength. 
 
 McD. Do you hear that, boys ? The Southern 
 Confederacy has gone up. Now every one of you, 
 three cheers for the Union. {The cheers are given.) 
 
 John. Thank God, the carnage of blood is end- 
 ed, and Peace will soon spread her bright wings 
 over a land free from the curse of Slavery. 
 
 Mrs. M. And happiness will dwell once more in 
 a home free from the blight of intemperance. 
 
 {Exeunt k. Allegorical Tableau.) 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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