Now, Mrs. Curwen, if you will jump down and make a rush -'

Mrs. Curwen: 'It's for you to make the rush first, Mrs. Somers. You are the hostess.' Yes, but I'm not going, don't you see? I've sent my card to Mrs. Ransom.'

Mrs. Somers:

Mrs. Curwen:

you, please

Then, Mrs. Miller, will

Mrs. Miller: Mrs. Bemis is nearest the door. I think she will start first.'

Mrs. Bemis: 'No; I will wait for the rest.'

hard,

ing the carpet, Willis! Hard, hard!' The other ladies all leap down from their perches, and rush screaming out of the drawing-room, followed by 5 Jane, with a whoop that prolongs itself into the depths of the basement, after the retreating wails and hysterical laughter of the ladies have died out of the street door. 'Oh, was n't it splendid? It was a perfect success.'

Campbell, leaning on his poker, and panting with exhaustion: They got out alive.'

Mrs. Somers: And it was all Agnes's

Mrs. Somers: That is a good idea. 15 idea. Why, Agnes is gone too!'
They ought to all rush together, not one
after another. Don't you think So,
Agnes?'

Campbell: Yes, Agnes is gone. I

Mrs. Roberts: Yes, that was what I meant. And we ought to all scream just 20 before they start, so as to scare it.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Oh, how capital! You have got a brain, Agnes! Now I begin to believe we shall live through it. And Mr. Campbell ought to beat the floor first, 25 ought n't he?'

Campbell: I have n't got anything to beat it with.' He looks about the room. 'But I can go down and get my cane.' All: 'No!' Mrs. Somers: get it for you.'

Jane will go down and

Jane: Oh, I could n't, Mrs. Somers!'
Campbell: Perhaps the poker — but

it would spoil your carpet.'

Mrs. Somers: No matter for the carpet; you can beat it into-pulp.' Campbell gets the poker and beats the carpet in different places.Harder! Beat harder!'

Mrs. Roberts: You're not beating at all, Willis. You're just temporizing.' Campbell wildly thrashes the carpet.

Mrs. Somers: There! that is some

30

35

think it was a ruse of hers to save her own life. She's quite capable of it.'

Mrs. Somers, with justice: No, I don't think that. She was just carried away by the excitement of the moment.'

Campbell: At any rate, she's gone. And now, Amy, don't you think you'd better get down?'

Mrs. Somers, in astonishment: Get down? Why, you must be crazy. How can I get down if it's still there?' Campbell: What?'

Mrs. Somers: The mouse.'

Campbell: But it is n't there, my dear. You saw for yourself that it was n't there.' Mrs. Somers: 'Did you see it run out?'

Campbell: No; but

Mrs. Somers: Very well, then, it's there still. Of course it is. I would n't get down for worlds.'

Campbell: Oh, good heavens! Do you expect to spend the rest of your life 40 up there in that chair?'

Mrs. Somers: I don't know. I shall not get down till I see that mouse leave this room.'

Campbell, desperately: Well, then, I thing like. Now scream, Agnes! Scream, 45 must make a clean breast of it. There

Mrs. Curwen! Mrs. Miller, Lou, scream,

please!

All: E-e-e-e!'

Mrs. Somers: But nobody started!'

never was any mouse here.'

Mrs. Somers: What do you mean?' Campbell: I mean that when we were talking arguing about the physical

-

Mrs. Curwen: 'I did n't believe the 50 courage of women, I thought I would try rest would start, and so I did n't.'

Mrs. Miller: 'I was sure no one else would start.'

Mrs. Bemis: 'So was I.'

Mrs. Roberts: We must have faith in 55 each other, or else the plan's a failure. Now all scream!' They scream.

6

Mrs. Somers: E-e-e-e! Keep beat

a mouse. It's succeeded only too well. I'll never try another.'

Mrs. Somers: And could you really
be guilty of such a cruel-'
Campbell: 'Yes.'

Mrs. Somers: Shameless -'
Campbell: I was.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Despicable deception?'

Campbell: It was vile, I know, but I did it.'

Mrs. Somers: 'I don't believe it. No, rather than believe that of you, Willis, I would believe there were a million mice in the room.'

Campbell: Amy, indeed

Mrs. Somers: No; if you could deceive me then, you can deceive me now. If you could say there was a mouse in the 10 room when there was n't, you are quite capable of saying there is n't when there is. You are just saying it now to get me down.'

Campbell: Upon my honor, I'm not.' 15 Mrs. Somers: Oh, don't talk to me of honor! The honor of a man who could revel—yes, revel in the terrors of helpless women-'

Campbell: No, no; I'd no idea of it, 20 Amy.'

Mrs. Somers: You will please not address me in that way, Mr. Campbell. You have forfeited all right to do so.'

Campbell I know it. What I did 25 was very foolish and thoughtless.'

Campbell:
But only one.'
Mrs. Somers:

Yes, I should, my dear.

Very well, then! You can find some other one. All is over be5 tween us. Yes! I will send you back the precious gifts you have lavished upon me, and I will thank you for mine. A man who can turn the sex that his mother and sister belong to into ridicule can have no real love for his wife. I am glad that I found you out in time.'

Campbell: Do you really mean it, Amy?'

Mrs. Somers: 'Yes, I mean it. And I hope it will be a lesson to you. If you find any other poor, silly, trusting creature that you can impose yourself upon for a gentleman as you have upon me, I advise you to reserve your low, vulgar, boyish tricks till after she is helplessly yours, or she may tear your hateful ring from her finger and fling it' She attempts to pull a ring from her finger, but it will not come off. Never mind! I will get it off with a little soapsuds; and then-'

Campbell: Oh no, my dear! Come, I can allow for your excitement, but I can't stand everything, though I admit everything. When a man has said he's played 30 a silly part he does n't like to be told so, and as for imposing myself upon you for a gentleman you must take that back, Amy.'

Mrs. Somers: It was very low and ungentlemanly. I suppose you will go away and laugh over it with your associates.' Campbell: Why not say my ruffianly accomplices at once, Amy? No, I assure you that unless you tell of the affair, nobody shall ever hear of it from me. It's too disastrous a victory. I'm hoist by my own petard, caught in my own mouse-35 trap. There is such a thing as succeeding too well.'

Mrs. Somers: 'I should think you would be ashamed of it. Suppose you have shown that women are nervous and excitable, does that prove anything?'

Mrs. Somers: 'I do. I take it back. There has n't been any imposture. I knew you were not a gentleman.'

Campbell: Very good! Then I'm not fit for a lady's company, and I don't deny, though you 're so hard upon me, 40 that you're a lady, Amy. Good-by.' He bows and walks out of the room.

Campbell: Nothing in the world.' Mrs. Somers: Very likely some of us will be sick from it. I dare say you think that would be another triumphant argu- 45

Mrs. Somers, sending her voice after him in a wail of despair: Willis!' Campbell, coming back: Well?'

Mrs. Somers: I can't let you go.' He runs towards her, but she shrinks back on her chair against the wall. 'No, no!'

Campbell, hesitating: "Why did you call me back, then?'

Mrs. Somers: 'I-I did n't call you back; I just said - Willis.' Campbell:

of you.'

This is unworthy - even

Mrs. Somers: 'Oh!'

Campbell: Do you admit that you have been too severe?'

Mrs. Somers: 'I don't know. What did I say?'

Campbell: A number of pleasant things; that I was a fraud, and no gentleman.'

Mrs. Somers: Did I say that?'
Campbell: Yes, you did.'

Mrs. Somers: I must have been very much incensed against you. I beg your pardon for being so angry.'

Campbell: That won't do. I don't care how angry you are if you don't call 10 me names. You must take them back.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Do you see my handkerchief anywhere about on the carpet?'

Mrs. Somers: I did n't say that.' Campbell: And I can't be satisfied with less. I'll own that I've been stupid, but I haven't been ungentlemanly. I 5 can't remain unless you do.'

Mrs. Somers: And do you think threatening me is gentlemanly?

Campbell: That is n't the question. Do you think I'm a gentleman?'

Mrs. Somers: You 're what the world calls a gentleman - yes.'

Campbell: Do you think I'm one?' Mrs. Somers: How can I tell? I. can't think at all, perched up here.' Campbell: Campbell: Why don't you get down, then?'

Mrs. Somers:

why.'

Campbell:

You know very well

But

you'll have to get You can't stay there

Campbell, looking about, and then finding it: Yes; here it is.' He hands it to 15 her, and she bends forward and takes it from him at arm's-length, whipping it nervously out of his hand. What's the matter?' Mrs. Somers: Oh, nothing — nothing! 20 down some time. Will you please give me my fan from the table there?' He obeys, and she catches it from him as she has caught the handkerchief. Thank you! Keep away, please!' Campbell, angrily: 'Really this is too 25 much. If you are afraid of touching me-'

Mrs. Somers: No, I don't mind touching you; that is n't it. But if you stood so near, don't you see, it might run up 30 you, and jump on to me.'

Campbell: What might?'
Mrs. Somers:
Campbell:

mouse.'

You know. The mouse.'
The mouse! There is no

Mrs. Somers: That's what you said before.'

always.'
Mrs.
care?'

Somers: Why should you

Campbell: You know I do care. You know that I love you dearly, and that I can't bear to see you in distress. Shall I beat the carpet, and you scream and make a rush?'

Mrs. Somers: 'No: I have n't the strength for that. I should drop in a faint as soon as I touched the floor.'

Campbell: Oh, good heavens! What am I going to do, then?'

Mrs. Somers: 'I don't know. You got 35 me into the trouble. I should think you could get me out of it.'

idea. 40

Campbell: Well, it's true. There is n't any mouse, and there never was.' Mrs. Somers: There's the And that's all I ever cared for.' Campbell: Well, what are you going to do? I can't kill the idea of a mouse, and I can't drive it out of the room.'

Mrs. Somers: 'I don't know what I'm 45 going to do. I suppose I shall die here.' She presses her handkerchief to her eyes. 'I shall never get out of the room alive. Then I hope you will be satisfied.'

Campbell:Amy, how can you say 50 such things to me?

Mrs. Somers: 'Oh. I suppose you're fond of me, in your contemptuous way. I never denied that. And I'm sorry, I'm sure, if I wounded your feelings by any- 55 thing I said.'

Campbell: Then you admit that I am a gentleman?'

Campbell, after walking distractedly up and down the room: There's only one way that I can think of, and if we 're not engaged any longer, it would n't do.'

Mrs. Somers. yielding to her curiosity, after a moment's hesitation: What is it?'

Campbell: 'Oh, unless we're still engaged, it's no use proposing it.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Can't you tell me without?'

Campbell: Impossible.'

Mrs. Somers, looking down at her fan: Well, suppose we are still engaged. then? Looking up: Yes, say we are engaged.'

Campbell: It's to carry you out.'

Mrs. Somers, recoiling a little: 'Oh, do you think that would be very nice?' Campbell: Yes, I think it would. We can both scream, you know.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Yes?'

Campbell: And then you fling yourself into my arms.'

Mrs. Somers: 'Yes?'

Campbell: And I rush out of the room with you.'

Mrs. Somers, with a deep breath: 'I would never do it in the world."

Campbell: Well, then, you must stay where you are.'

I

Campbell: Well.'

Mrs. Somers: Well, in the first place, would n't have got you wrought up so.' Campbell: Well, but if you had! Suppose you had done all that I've done, and that I was up there in your place

Mrs. Somers, closing her fan: You're 10 not strong enough.' She puts her handkerchief into her pocket. You would be sure to fall.' She gathers her train in one hand. Well, then, look the other way!' Campbell turns his face aside and 15 standing on a chair, and would n't let you waits. No, I can't do it.

leave the room, and would n't get down and walk out, and would n't allow myself to be carried, what should you do?.'

Mrs. Somers, who has been regarding him attentively over the top of the fan, which she holds pressed against her face: 'Why, I suppose if you would n't let me help you willingly-I should use vio

lence.'

Campbell: You witch! As he makes a wild rush upon her, the curtain, which in the plays of this author has a strict regard for the convenances, abruptly descends.

Harper's Monthly, December, 1886.

JOAQUIN MILLER (1841-1913)

Cincinnatus Heiner Miller he adopted the Joaquin later as a pen name- was born, according to his own statement, on the line between Ohio and Indiana while his parents were migrating westward. My cradle was a covered wagon, pointed west.' He spent his early boyhood in a frontier settlement east of the Mississippi, and when he was eleven went with his family across the continent in oxen-drawn wagons, arriving in Oregon after seven months. He saw much of frontier life, and, if we may trust his autobiographical narrative, went through a surprising series of adventures with Indians, miners, desperadoes, and finally with the Walker filibustering expedition to Nicaragua. He returned at length to Oregon, picked up a smattering of culture at a mission school, edited a paper which was suppressed for disloyalty at the beginning of the war, studied law for a few weeks, became a frontier judge, wrote Byronic verses, and in 1868 published them in a volume entitled Specimens, published another, Joaquin et al, 1869, and the following year went to San Francisco to join the brotherhood of poets. Disappointed by his reception, he started eastward, and disappointed again in New York, went on to London. After a most discouraging year in the metropolis, a year devoted almost feverishly to poetic composition and to efforts to secure a publisher, he was enabled in 1871 to bring out his volume Songs of the Sierras. Its reception by the poets and critics of England was enough to turn the head of a far more balanced nature than his. He started in to make poetry his profession, but after the first outburst of surprise the public became more critical. He did not overcome his early crudenesses as it was supposed he would do, but rather tended more and more to cheapness and mediocrity. His later life was a picturesque one. He lived for a time in a log cabin of his own construction in Washington, DC,. but finally settled in California, which he made his home during his later years. After his first London volume he published in various places no less than twenty-four books of prose and verse, but in America he was not taken with seriousness, and his poetry, save for a few lyrics, is little read.

There is a vein of the flamboyant and the high-falutin in Miller that is apt to disgust his reader so completely that he has no patience to find the really strong pieces that here and there are to be found in his work. The greater part of all he wrote is worthless, but the small residue, poems dealing with the Sierras and the great plains.- is thoroughly American and, moreover, really poetic. The lyric Columbus bids fair to hold its place in the most select American anthologies.