Scene.—Josiah Allen’s wife with bonnet on ready to start.—She says to herself: “I wonder why Josiah Allen don’t come. We shall be late to that quire meetin’.”—When Simon Slimpsey rushes in and sinks down in a chair.

Simon. Am I pursued?

Sam. There hain’t nobody in sight. Has your life been attacked by burglers and incindiarys? Speak, Simon Slimpsey, speak!

Simon. Betsey Bobbett!

Sam. What of her, Simon Slimpsey?

Simon. She’ll be the death on me, and my soul is jeopardized on account of her. To think that I, a member of a authordox church, and the father of thirteen small children, could be tempted to swear. But I did, not more’n two minutes ago. I said, By Jupiter! I can’t stand it so much longer. And last night to meetin’, when she was payin’ attention to me, I wished I was a ghost; for I thought if I was a apperition I could vanish from her view. Oh! I have got so low as to wish I was a ghost. She come a rushin’ out of Deacon Gowdy’s just now as I came past jest a purpose to talk to me. She don’t give me no peace. Last night she would walk tight to my side all the way from meetin’ and she looked so hungry at the gate, as I went through and fastened it on the inside.

Sam. Mebby she’ll marry the editor of the Augur. She is payin’ attention to him.

Simon. No; she won’t get him; I shall be the one, I always was the one. It has always been so, if there was ever a underlin’ and a victim wanted, I was that underlin’ and that victim. And Betsey Bobbett will get round me yet, you see if she don’t.

Sam. Cheer up, Simon Slimpsey; folks hain’t obleeged to marry if they don’t want to.

Simon. Yes they be; if folks get round ’em. Hain’t you seen her verses in last week’s Augur?

Sam. No, I haint. (Simon hands her the paper and she reads):

Sam. Wall, she believes that marryin’ is wimmen’s only spear.

Simon. It is that spear that is going to destroy me.

Sam. Don’t give up so Simon Slimpsey; I hate to see you lookin’ so gloomy and deprested.

Simon. It is the awful determination of them lines that apauls me. I have seen it in another. Betsey Bobbett reminds me dreadfully of another; she makes me think of that first wife of mine. And I don’t want to marry again Miss Allen, I don’t want to. I didn’t want to marry the first time, I wanted to be a bachelder. I think they have the easiest time of it by half. Now there is a friend of mine that is only half an hour younger than I be, and that hadn’t ought to make much difference in our looks, had it?

Sam. No, Simon Slimpsey, it hadn’t.

Simon. Well; you ought to see what a head of hair he’s got now; sound to the roots, not a lock missing. I wanted to be one, but my late wife come and kept house for me, and—and married me. I lived with her for eighteen years, and when she left me I was—I was reconciled. I was reconciled some time before it took place. I don’t want to say nothin’ against nobody that hain’t round here in this world, but I lost a good deal of hair by my late wife; and I wanted to keep a lock or two for my children to keep as a relict of me. I have got thirteen, as you know, countin’ each pair of twins as two, and it would take a considerable number of hairs to go round. I don’t want to marry agin.

Sam. Mebby you are borrowin’ trouble without cause, Simon Slimpsey, with life there is hope. Don’t give up so Simon Slimpsey; mebby she’ll marry the editor of the Augur; she’s payin’ lots of attention to him.

Simon. No, he won’t have her, she’ll get round me yet—you mark my words, and when the time comes you will think of what I told you. (Simon weeps) You see if she don’t get round me yet.

Sam. Chirk up, Simon Slimpsey, be a man.

Simon. That is the trouble, if I wasn’t a man she would give me some peace. (He weeps bitterly. The curtain falls, but rises immediately for the quire scene.)

Scene II—Quire Meeting—Two or three rows of seats,—Any number of Singers, the more the better—Editor takes chair in center of first row—Betsey and Miss Gowdy both try to take the vacant seat at his left: Miss Gowdy gets it—Betsey sits in front row at right of Editor, not next to him—Samantha and Josiah sit at left of Miss Gowdy—Elder Peedick, the leader, stands at the right—Josiah and Samantha come in arm in arm after most of them get seated—Josiah says as they walk in, Don’t be a lockin’ arms, Samantha, it will make talk.—Elder Peedick distributes books.

Eld. P. We will commence this evening by singing the hymn—“How blest was Jacob.” We will sing it to the tune of Ortenville. Widder Tubbs, will you play the instrument? (some old melodeon.)

S. Bob. The metre is too long.

Thos. J. Yes, there is too much tune for the words.

Eld. P. I believe I am running this quire (He takes out a tuning fork and tries it, and commences.) How blest was Ja-a-a-a-cob. Lemme see. I didn’t, get the right key. (tries again) How blest was Ja-a-fol-de-rol-cob.

Thos. J. You had better try some other patriarch, and see if you can run him through the tune.

S. Bob. I knew when the tune and words was added up there would be tune to carry.

Eld. P. Shakespeare Bobbett, do you keep still, and don’t let me ketch you a pressin’ the key to-night.

S. Bob. I shall press as many keys as I am a minter for all you; you are always findin’ fault with sumthin’ or other.

Eld. P. Perhaps we had better try some more familiar hymn. We will sing on page 200. The duet between the sulfireno and the beartone will be sung by the editor of the Augur and Betsey Bobbett.

Miss G. I believe I can sing that full as well as another certain person.

Bet. Sophrona. I shall sing it, it has been give out, and Elder Peedick, you had better give Miss Gowdy a book. She seem to have to look over with the editor. (Elder Peedick gives the key and they all sing.)

(Duet—That same verse set to the song, “When thy bosom heaves a sigh.” Betsey and the editor starts. Betsey gets her part too low, they sing it as far as “Though the old man”—when Josiah rises.)

Jos. It is a shame for a woman to sing alone in a room full of men. (He begins and sings the whole verse through to the tune of Greenville.)

Sam. Josiah, if you say another word I’ll part with you. What do you mean, Josiah Allen?

Jos. I’m singing base.

Sam. Do you sit down and behave yourself; she has pitched it to low. It hain’t base.

Jos. I know better, Samantha; it is base. I guess I know base when I hear it, and as long as I call myself a man, I will have the privilege of singing base.

Sam. Sing! I’d call it singing.

(Sophronia and the Editor now take advantage of Betsey’s confusion and go triumphantly through it. All then repeat the first part singing it well to the tune of Arlington.)

Peedick. We will now have a intermission of five minutes.

(Editor draws Samantha to front of stage and says):

Ed. How sweet it is Josiah Allen’s wife, for a noble but storm-tosted bark to anchor in a beautiful calm. How sweet it is when you see the ravenin’ tempest a smilin’ at you, I mean a lowerin’ at you, to feel that it can’t harm you, that you are beyond its reach. Josiah Allen’s wife, I feel safe and happy to-night; I believe you are my friend.

Sam. Yes, and you well-wisher; whatever happens, if you are ever encouraged, or any other trial comes to you, remember that I wished you well and pitied you.

Ed. Instead of pitying me, wish me joy. I am married, I was married a week ago.

Sam. Who to?

Ed. The prettiest girl in Log London. She is at her father’s now, but will be here in a few days. I must go, the twins will be waking up. Yes, Miss Allen, I am married and safe.

Bet. Ketch hold of me, Josiah Allen’s wife, ketch hold of me. I am on the very point of swooning.

Sam. Ketch hold of yourself.

Bet. One of my dearest gazelles is a dying. One of my fondest hopes is a withering.

Sam. Let ’em wither. Betsey Bobbett, this gazelle is married, and there hain’t no use in your followin’ on that trail any longer. Do ’ry and behave till meetin’ is out.

Peedick. We will now sing on page 99. Sing the words on page 99 to the tune of old Northfield.

All.

(Widder Doodle sitting in the corner weeps and says:) Oh how much that sheep makes me think of Doodle.

All Sing.

Peedick. We will now sing the verse which Miss Bobbett composed for her own private devotions, but which she kindly permits the quire to use. She says it should be sung with great expression and feeling. (Betsey, who has been weeping gets up and sings this.)

All Sing.