Anti Slavery Bugle

Selected Articles.

FAMILY GOVERNMENT. A DOMESTIC SCENE
OR,
A SUNDAY MORNING AT MR. JONES'

Time—The Breakfast-Hour

Mr. Jones. Want some pudding, Mary?

Mary. Yes.

Mr. J. Then hold your plate.

Mary. There's enough. I don't want a bushel.

Joe. I wish I could ever have some pepper in season. It's always clean over to the side of the table.

Ellen. Ma, make Ben set that way. I can't git to my plate.

Mrs. J. Do, Ben, let her have a chance; there's forever a fuss. Does Anne want some tea?

Anne. (throwing her knife on the floor.)

Mrs. J. There, Charley, pick up sissy's knife.

Charley. You, Tom; you're the nearest to it.

Tom. I won't. Do it yourself. (Mrs. Jones looks very sorrowful, and picks it up herself.)

Kate. May I go to meeting to-day, ma'm? Mary went last Sunday.

Mary. I'm going again to-day. I told Fanny Brown, I would, and she is going to call for me. So shut up your noise.

Kate. Mind your business. That's always the way. I never can go anywhere but what you'll up and say you're going.

Mrs. J. Why, my child, you hain't got anything to wear but your blue dress, and it's too cold to wear that.

Kate. I can wear my black one.

Mrs. J. 'Tain't fit.

Kate. Yes 'tis. My cape'll cover the waist up.

Mrs. J. Well, have your own way.

Mr. J. Let her go, mother. I'll stay at home and take care of the baby.

Mrs. J. I shan't go unless you do.

Mr. J. Well, we'll both stay. Pass your dish—pot of butter this way.

Charley. Give me as big a piece of pie as you do Nell, ma'm.

Mrs. J. Hold your tongue or you shan't have any. If you've got done breakfast, Mary, take Kate's dress and darn that hole in the skirt; and you, Ellen, put a flat-iron on the stove. Tom's handkerchief ain't ironed.

(They all get up from the table. Exit Mr. J.)

Mrs. J. Mary, I want you to enquire of Mrs. Eastman if her husband takes butter: I should like to send some over. Now do remember it.

Mary. I will. Mayn't I wear your gloves to-day? I've torn mine.

Mrs. J. Yes, if you'll find 'em. I'll warrant they're lost. I haven't seen them since last Sunday.

(Exit Mary—enter Fanny Brown.)

Mrs. J. Good morning, Fanny. How's your ma'm?

Fanny. Quite well, I thank you. Mary has not gone, has she?

Mrs. J. No; she ain't ready. Sit down. Got quite a flushy shawl—new, of course. Well, I can't afford to get Mary one this fall.

(Enter Mary.)

Mary. Hullo, Fanny; you've got along, I see. What! a new shawl? Well, ma says I shall have one next week.

Mrs. J. I guess not—your old one'll do. Have you done what I told you?

Mary. Yes; and she's ready to go to meeting—this blessed minute, and I haven't combed my hair. By the way, Fanny, did you see Sarah Emerson's collar last Sunday?

Fanny. No; she sat directly behind me, and I did not see her at all.

Mary. So she sat behind me two pews but somebody told me to notice it, and I turned round.

(Here the door burst open, and in rush Joe, Charley, Kate, and Ellen.)

Kate. Ma'm! Ma'm! Joe got that mouse out of the buttermilk and throw'd it at me, and daubed my dress all over.

Joe. Well, she struck me with a stick that had a nail in it, and tore my jacket right on there, she did.

Kate. I didn't neither.

Joe. Didn't she, Ellen?

Ellen. I don't know; I didn't see her.

Charley. Oh! now you've fibbed, Nell—'cause you said you wished it had stuck down in his throat to pay him for pinching you.

Mrs. J. I never did see such a pack of good-for-nothing young ones in my life.—You shan't one of you go to meeting.

(Here a scream is heard, and they run for the cellar door: Anne had fallen down stairs.)

Mrs. J. Darling little thing—did she fall and hurt her? Who had the imprudence to leave that door open?

Children all at once. Why, when we come up she was down cellar, and had pa's fiddle to play in the cream-pot, and—

(Enter Mr. J.)

Mr. J. Boys, who broke my rake-handle?

Ellen. Joe broke it yesterday. He was chasing me and hit it agin the fence.

Joe. I didn't neither. I didn't know 'twas broken.

Charley. What a liar! You told me of it yesterday.

Joe. The first I knew, I went out to the barn, and it laid in the wood-house.

Mr. J. That's the way everything goes.

(Enter Tom, with a Sabbath-School book torn shockingly.)

Tom. See there, Pa, my book's all torn to pieces. What shall I do?

Mr. J. Who did this, children?

Kate. Joe and Charles. I was looking to the pictures, and Joe came and grabbed it, and they ripped it a-going.

Joe. It's no such thing. I never touched it.

Mr. J. I shall settle with you before you go to bed.

Mary. Where's my hair-comb, Ellen?—I see you have it.

Ellen. It's out doors on the well-curb.—I see Charles have it.

Kate. Ben dropped it into the well.—He—

Mr. J. Shut up your noise; don't let me hear any more such stuff.

(Exit Mary.)

Joe. Where's my hat?

Mrs. J. Under the table. But where are you going?

Joe. Nowhere.

Mrs. J. Then sit down and keep your clatter still; I can't read.

Ellen, in a whisper.—Joe let's go out and jump on the hay.

Joe. I won't. Po. Nell's trying to get me out to play.

Mr. J. Sit down!

(Profound silence. Enter Mary.)

Mrs. J. Well, there, I hope you ain't a-going out doors with that dress on. Go right and take it off.

Mary. Why ma'm, this is well enough; I'll leave it to Fanny if 'tain't.

Mrs. J. Have your own way, always.—Wait for Kate.

Kate (up stairs.) Where's my shawl?

Mrs. J. I don't know. Have you looked in the chest?

Kate. Yes.

Mrs. J. In the closet:

Kate. Yes.

Mrs. J. In the bed-room?

Kate. Yes.

Mrs. J. Well, look in the trunk or the bureau.

Kate. I have.

Mrs. J. I don't know where it is, then, I'm sure.

Ellen. I know where 'tis. We had it up stairs for a carpet to our play-house, and I suppose it's there now.

(Enter Kate, with the shawl, torn shockingly.)

Mrs. J. Well, now, I should like to know who in the name of common sense did that! I never see such work in my life. You must take Mary's.

Mary. I don't want her to; 'twill be all switched to pieces.

Mrs. J. Hold your tongue. Kate take the shawl.

(Exit Mary, Kate, and Fanny.)

(Crash in the store-room—run Mrs. Jones. Charles creeps out of the ruins of the best sugar-pot.)

Mrs. J. Oh! my soul and body. what a caper this is! You little good-for-nothing. what do you mean! Get into the other room there, and if I catch you in such business again, I'll take your ears off! March, march quick!

(Exit Charles—enters the room where there are seated Joe, Ellen, and Anne.)

Joe. Give me some of that 'are.

Charley. I won't neither—go and help yourself, as I did; the old woman'll only jaw a little.

Anne. Dib me some sooder.

Ellen. Give me some of that 'are.

Charley. Ye shan't any of ye have it.

(Exit Charles.)

Ellen. Now. Joe, you go and let the squirrel out to pay him for that.

Joe. You'll tell.

Ellen. No. I won't.

(Exit Joe—enter Mrs. Jones.)

Mrs. J. Where's Joe gone now?

Ellen. He's gone up chamber to get some corn to parch, I guess.

Mrs. J. Do you know where Mary's gold pen is?

Ellen. Kate broke it yesterday.

Mrs. J. Broke it how?

Ellen. She was picking holes in Ben's book.

Mrs. J. Well, for mercy's sake tell Mary you don't know where it is, if she asks you. for she'll make such an awful piece of work.

(Exit Mrs. Jones—enter Ben.)

Ben. How came Charles squirrel out?—I saw him running down towards the woods like Caesar.

Ellen. Joe let him out 'cause he wouldn't give him any sugar. Let's tell Pa of him.

(Enter Charles and Joe.)

Ben. Charles, Joe went and let your squirrel out, and he's cleared for old Hickory woods like smoke.

Joe. I never done no such thing.

Ellen. What a liar! You did too.

Joe. You told me to, or I never should have thought of it.

Ellen. I didn't neither.

Joe. You did too. But I guess you'd better go out in the wood-house and see where your rag-baby is.

(Exit Ellen.)

Joe. Good! I tore her doll all to pieces.

(Enter Ellen.)

Ellen. Did you do that Joe?

Joe. No. I found it so when I went out.

Charles. There, Ellen, he just said he did.

Joe. I didn't. did I Ben?

Ben. No. I didn't hear you.

Ellen, crying. I'll tell Pa; I snum, I will.

Joe. Cry baby! cry baby!

(Ellen flies at Joe, and a fight ensues, during which Mr. Jones enters.)

Mr. J. Young ones, what are you racketing about here at this rate for? Stop your noise. (Gives each a cuff, which sets all a-crying.)

Night—All at Home.

Mary. Ma'm, where's my pen? I want to write a letter.

Mrs. J. I don't know. Children where is it? (Giving each a wink.)

Children, all at once. I don't know nothing about it.

Mr. J. Can't you keep still! I can't tell whether I'm reading in Moses or Paul.—Come. I'll read out loud. "And it came to pass"

Ellen. Oh!

Mr. J. Now what's to pay?

Ellen, crying. Joe pinched me, and Tom pulled my hair.

Mr. J. Joe, sit this way; Tom, mind your business; "And it came to pass"

Charles. Let me alone, Ben, or I'll knock you down.

Ben. I hain't touched ye.

Charles. You have.

Mr. J. (closing his Bible.) I never see such a pack of good-for-nothing young ones in my life. I know I've done my duty, but it's no use.

Mrs. J. Well, I have done mine, and I don't see what ails them.

Anne. I know what ails Joe; he's got the itch.

Mr. J. He! he! he! I guess Polly, after all, our children are as bright as anybody's—so we have no cause to complain.

Scene Closes.