MILDWEED-It is truly lamentable, Miss Snivel. It recalls forcibly to my mind those exquisite lines of Louisa Bulfinch; perhaps you know them?

"When you catch a linnet-"

MISS SNIVEL-Who'd a thought Mehitable Higginson would have played so false? I made sage tea with her forty times if I did once; and as for preserving raspberries and making currant wine, there's no knowing how often we've done that together. This world is far from being what it should be! Lawyer Gay, give me your arm. 1 feel a sinking and a failing; pray, give me your arm. (They go out.) LAWYER-Looking back)-Rather a strange thing.

h? Miss Higginson's Will!

DRAMATIO SUPPLEMENT

-TO

One Hundred Choice Selections, No. 6

BILL JEPSON'S WIFE.*-ROBERT C. V. MEYERS.

CHARACTERS.

BILL JEPSON, a sailor.

POLLY JEPSON, his wife.

LITTLE POLLY, their daughter.

SCENE.-Interior of Jepson's house; door at back; settee; stove, before which is a pair of little shoes. Polly Jepson seated, patching a child's frock. Little Polly sleeping on the settee. Knock at door. POLLY (with an exclamation, rising and throwing aside her wing). Ah, if it should be Bill come from his voyage tonight instead of to-morrow, when he was expected. (Aloud.) Who's there?

BILL (outside). Ahoy! Do Bill Jepson's wife live here? POLLY. It is his voice, and yet it is not. (Goes and throws open door.) I am Bill Jepson's wife.

BILL (disguised and with altered voice). Hum! Lass, will you ask me in?-I've news of Bill.

POLLY (aside). You're acting, are you? (Aloud.) Come in, sailor, and tell me what you know.

Bill comes forward, looks fiercely at Polly, who smiles at him.

BILL (aside). Well, I never did!

POLLY (aside). Oh, ho; I'll act too. (Aloud.) Sit by the fire; you must be chilled through, the night is terribly cold. Copyright, 1885, by P. GARRETT & CO.

BILL (aside). Well! (Aloud and harshly.) I am chilled through, Bill Jepson's wife (seating himself before the fire). Are ye all alone here, woman?

POLLY. NO (pointing to the shoes before the fire, and to little Polly on the setter). Now, sailor, what's this great news of yours? BILL. Ain't ye afeard o' me, ye a lone woman?

POLLY. Bosh! Tell me your news.

BILL. Bill Jepson's wife, ye flustrate me. I-I kinder thought ye'd be a bit afeard o' me, bein's I'm a rough sailor. POLLY. Pshaw! Hurry up with your news.

BILL (aside). I don't know what to make o' her. (Aloud.) I-I don't know how to begin the yarn, an' you settin' there so unskeered.

POLLY (sitting down and sewing). I'm ready.

BILL (aside). I didn't count on this. (Aloud.) Be'n't ye a leetle narvous?

POLLY. Oh my, no! I'm steady enough to count every stitch I put in little Polly's frock. I nervous? oh, dear! BILL (frowning). Bill Jepson's wife, I've that to tell you as'll unsteady you, then. When did ye hear last from Bill? Six months ago. He was on the

POLLY (biting a thread).

way to Madagascar.

BILL. Ye'll not hear from him in a hurry agin.
POLLY. He never did write often.

BILL (desperately). Lass, he'll never write agin, Bill won't!
POLLY. I'm sorry for Bill-he'll miss it.

BILL (looking at her amazedly, and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief). I think I'll begin my yarn.

POLLY. La, sailor, haven't you begun yet?

BILL (aside). Sech a queer start. (Aloud.) Ye know six months ago Bill sailed for Madagascar. Me an' him, we was chums; whatsomever he done, thatsomever done I; wheresomever he went, theresomever went I; whensomever he writ to ye, I seen that there writin', sure as gospel; when he thunk o' ye, I knowed it. But there's storms at sea, lass, sich storms! there's a creakin', an' a groanin', an' a thunderin', a rippin' an' a tearin' everywheres; there's storms when ye think o' home an' the wife an' babby, an' ye look up in the thick o' the angry sky an' try to speer out the helpin' hand o' Him that walked on the waters an' told the waves, "Peace, be still!" There's storms as makes a

sailor cry out for the Lord's help for them he loves, even if he don't cry out for help for his own life. Who knowed more about storms than me an' Bill Jepson? We'd follered the sea nigh on to twenty year, an' never separated. I can't tell ye, for ye'll feel too bad.

POLLY. No, I won't, sailor; I like it, it sounds old. fashioned.

BILL. Old-fashioned!

POLLY.

Yes.

Bill used to sit where you are sitting, and I'd be in this identical spot sewing as I'm sewing now, and he'd tell his awful yarns and try to make me believe them. BILL. You don't think I'm deceivin' ye?

POLLY. I'm not thinking much about it, so you needn't have that in your head. Go on, do!

BILL (aside). I'll try her furder. (Aloud.) Bill Jepson's wife, there comes a storm one day, an' the skipper he comes to us an' says, says he, "It's all up wi' us. Save yourselves!" The ship she'd sprung a leak, the pumps was no good, an' we was goin' down, an'- oh, Bill Jepson's wife, how kin I say it ?—your husband he wouldn't desart that there ship as he'd known ever since him an' the ship was both young.

POLLY (shaking her head). That was right of him; I'd never own Bill Jepson if he'd forsake his work because it grew troublesome.

BILI. Yes, but, lass, Bill he was aboard till the last two timbers separated. He wouldn't go; he got the others off, he helped wi' the cargo, an' there he staid a-lookin' out in the direction o' his home, an' thinkin' o' ye an' the babby. POLLY (tremulously). True for you, sailor.

BILL. But why don't ye git flustrated? Didn't ye keer for Bill? Why don't ye git in a reg'lar terror?

POLLY. Oh, I'll get that way after a bit; I must finish this patch first.

BILL (aside). Land o' Columbus! (Aloud.) Then ye didn't keer nothin' for Bill?

POLLY (facing him). Now look here, sailor, you say you knew Bill very well. Didn't Bill ever know of the times when I've sat here all alone through the night, after I've tucked little Polly up warm in bed, and staid by the window looking out at the raving storm, and thinking of my husband away on the watery wild? Didn't he know

how at such times my heart went across the cruel sea, hunting for him, went further than the sea, even up to Him who holds the sea and the storm in the hollow of His hand? Didn't he know how I treasured up every hope, every dream of him, every word he'd ever said,- that I searched little Polly's face day after day, seeing there a tiny likeness of his eyes, and loving the child more for that than anything else? And didn't he know that when I was timider than usual, and wanted him more than usual, I'd go to little Polly's bed and say, "Wake, little Polly, wake with mammy, and pray for daddy on the wild, wild seas;"-and how I'd fix little Polly's hands, and we'd kneel down beside her crib and say, "Our Father," and feel sure that the Father knew what we were asking for, and that our prayer would be answered? Didn't Bill know how I must have counted the days, full of want for him, watching and waiting for him, ever true in word and thought? (Rising.) Couldn't he tell you that he guessed I loved all sailors for his sake, and that I pitied the lonely ones that came in port here, and made friends with them? For I've gone to them, and I've said, "Cheer up, my lads; I'm Bill Jepson's wife. Let me help you if I can; if you're sick, or gloomy, or want little bits of woman's work done for you, why come to me, for I'm Bill Jepson's wife, and he's a sailor, too!" And how often this room has held sailors, and when they'd go how they'd kiss little Polly-for they've said they might pass by Bill's ship and it would seem almost as though they carried Polly's kisses to him; or they'd kiss her because they had little ones of their own who must be thinking of the sea and their daddies there. And I've helped them all I could; and little Polly and I have gone to see their ships off, and I've bade little Polly wave her hand and cry, “Good bye! and my love to your little ones like me!" and the men have called, "Three cheers and a tiger for Bill Jepson's wife, and may the Lord be good to little Polly!" And I've done all this for love of Bill. And you don't say that he ever thought of that; you only say that I never cared for him. If he did not know me without words, then he didn't love me as I thought. She wipes her eyes on the little frock, and sinks into the chair again. Bill looks at her, half rises, then reseats himself nervously.