The little country theater

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Title: The little country theater
Author: Arvold, Alfred G.
Language: English
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THEATER ***

THE LITTLE COUNTRY THEATER

FOUNDED
FEBRUARY TENTH, NINETEEN HUNDRED
AND FOURTEEN, BY ALFRED G. ARVOLD

[Illustration]

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO

[Illustration: The Quaint Cottage, the Snow-White Capped Mountain, the
Tumbling Waterfall Were Painted in a Manner Which Brought Many Favorable
Comments]

THE LITTLE COUNTRY THEATER

BY
ALFRED G. ARVOLD
NORTH DAKOTA AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE
Fargo, North Dakota

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1922

_All rights reserved_

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1922

TO MY MOTHER
WHOSE VISION CAUSED ME
TO SEE BIG THINGS

“THE THEATER IS A CRUCIBLE OF CIVILIZATION. IT IS A PLACE OF
HUMAN COMMUNION. IT IS IN THE THEATER THAT THE PUBLIC SOUL IS
FORMED.”

_Victor Hugo._

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Raindrops 1

II. Country Folks 17

III. The Land of the Dacotahs 33

IV. The Little Country Theater 41

V. The Heart of a Prairie 59

VI. Characteristic Incidents 67

VII. A Bee in a Drone’s Hive 95

VIII. Larimore 153

IX. Forty Towns 167

X. Cold Spring Hollow 179

Appendices 187

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Scene—“The Raindrops” _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

“Perhaps we will meet again like the raindrops” 4

Social Stagnancy is a Characteristic Trait of the Small Town and
the Country 22

An Old Dingy, Dull-Grey Chapel on the Second Floor of the
Administration Building was remodeled into what is now known
as The Little Country Theater 45

It Has a Seating Capacity of Two Hundred 53

The Package Library System 55

A Farm Home Scene in Iceland Thirty Years Ago 70

Scene—“Leonarda” 72

Scene—“The Servant in the House” 78

Scene—“Back to the Farm” 82

The Pastimes of the Ages 84

Scene—“Sitting Bull-Custer” 88

Scene—“American Beauties,” A One Act Play 92

Scene—“A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” 100

Folk Dances, Parades, and Pageants have become an Integral
Part of the Social Life of the State 172

Of the Fifty-three Counties in the State Thirty-five have
County Play Days 174

The Greek Theater, University of California, Berkeley, California 222

“The Crescent,” One of America’s Largest Open Air Theaters, El
Zagal Park, Fargo, North Dakota 223

The Stadium, Harvard University 224

The Interior of the Stadium 225

Rural Community Center, Rusk Farm 228

Community House, Leeland, Texas 229

Village Hall, Wyoming, New York 230

Community Building and Floor Plan 231

Auditorium, Hendrum, Minnesota 232

Stage Designs 235

THE LITTLE COUNTRY THEATER

THE RAINDROPS

One day, about three weeks before the Christmas holidays, two young
men came to see me. I shall never forget the incident because to me it
marked one of the most fascinating episodes in the social life of country
people. One of the young men was tall with broad shoulders and had light
hair and grey eyes. The other was of medium height and had dark hair.
His home was in Iceland. That they both had something important to say
was evident from the expression on their faces. After a few moment’s
hesitation, they told me they had thought out an idea for a play. Both
of them were brimful of enthusiasm in regard to it. Whether or not they
could produce it was a question. An obstacle stood in the way. Most of
the scenes were laid in Iceland. And what playhouse or village hall,
especially a country theater, ever owned any scenery depicting home life,
snow-capped mountains, and landscapes in that far-away region? Above all,
there was no money to buy any, either.

[Illustration: “Perhaps we will meet again like the raindrops.”]

When told that they would have to paint the scenery themselves, they
looked somewhat surprised. It is doubtful whether either of them had
ever painted anything more than his mother’s kitchen floor or perhaps
whitewashed a fence or the interior of a barn. They finally decided to do
the job. A painter was called over the phone who said he wouldn’t charge
the boys a cent for the colors if they painted the scene. Up in an attic
of a building near by there was an old faded pink curtain that had been
cast aside. It was thought to be no longer useful. Within twenty-four
hours the curtain was brought over and hoisted, and the floor of the
stage adjacent to the office was covered with paint pails, brushes,
and water colors. With dogged determination they decided to finish the
painting during the holiday vacation. A few minutes before midnight on
New Year’s Eve the last stroke of the brush was made. The quaint cottage,
the snow white-capped mountain, the tumbling waterfall and the steep
ascending cliffs were painted in a manner which brought many favorable
comments from competent art critics. The blending of the colors was
magnificent. It was genuine art. The beauty of it all was that these two
young men found that they could express themselves even on canvas.

Just as they had painted their scenery on the stage of the theater, so
did they write their play, acting out each line before they put it in
final form for presentation. Often they worked all night until four
o’clock in the morning. They called their play “The Raindrops.” The theme
is told in the second act of the play. The scene represents the interior
of an Icelandic home. It is evening. The family circle has gathered.
Some are sewing and others knitting. The children want to hear a story.
Sveinn, one of the characters in the play, finally says to them, “All
right then, if you are quiet, I will tell you the story of the raindrops
who met in the sky.” And he narrates the following which the children
listen to with rapt attention.

“Once there were two raindrops away-way high up in the clouds. The sun
had just lately smiled at them as they were playing in the big ocean, and
his smile had drawn them up into the sky. Now as they danced and sported
about in its radiance he decked them in all the bright and beautiful
colors of the rainbow; and they were so happy over being rid of the dirt
and salt that they almost forgot themselves for joy.

But somehow there seemed to be something that reminded them of the past.
They felt as if they had met before. Finally one said, “Say, friend,
haven’t we met before?” “That is just what I’ve been thinking,” said
friend. “Where have you been, comrade?”

“I’ve been on the broad prairies on the west side of the big mountain
that you see down there,” answered comrade.

“Oh,” said friend, “and I’ve been on the green slope on the east side of
the mountain. I had a friend who fell at the same time as I did, and we
were going to keep together, but unfortunately he fell on the other side
of the ridge.”

“That was too bad,” said comrade, “the same thing happened to me but my
friend fell on the east side just close to that stone you see down there.”

“Why, that is just where I fell,” said friend. This was enough—they could
scarcely contain themselves with joy over meeting and recognizing one
another again.

After they had danced one another around for a while, shaken hands a
dozen times or more, and slapped one another on the back till they
were all out of breath, friend said, “Now, comrade, tell me all about
everything that has happened to you.”

“And you’ll have to tell me everything that you have seen,” said comrade.

“Yes, I’ll do that,” said friend, and then comrade began:

“Well, I fell on the west side of that stone, as you know. At first I
felt kind of bad, but I gradually got over it and began to move in the
same direction as the others I saw around me. At first I could not move
fast, for I was so small that every little pebble blocked my road, but
then the raindrops held a meeting and agreed to work together to help
one another along and I joined the company to help form a pretty little
brook. In this way we were able to push big stones out of our road and we
were so happy that we laughed and played and danced in the sunlight which
shone to the bottom of the brook, for we were not too many and we were
all clean.

“Gradually more and more joined us till we became a big river. Nothing
could any longer stand in our road and we became so proud of our strength
that we tore up the earth and dug out a deep, deep path that everyone
might see.

“But then our troubles began. We became so awfully dirty that the sun no
longer reached any but those on top, while others were forced to stay in
the dark. They groaned under the weight of those up higher, while at the
same time they tore up from the bottom more and more filth.

“I wanted to get out of it all, but there didn’t seem to be any way.
I tried to get up on the big, broad banks where all sorts of crops
were growing, but I was met and carried back by others rushing on into
the river, evidently without realizing where they were going. The
current tossed me about, first in the sunshine and then in the depths
of darkness, and I had no rest till at last I got into the great ocean.
There I rested and washed off most of the dirt.”

“I wish I could have seen the river,” said friend, “but why didn’t you
spread out more, so as to help the crops on the plains and so that all
might have sunlight?”

“I don’t know,” said comrade, “First we wanted to leave a deep path for
others to see, and then later it seemed that we were helpless in the
current that we ourselves had started. You must now tell me your story.”

“Yes,” said friend. “I fell on the east side of that stone, and when I
couldn’t find you I started east, because I saw the sun there. After a
while I bumped into a great big stone which was right across my path. It
was such an ugly thing that I got angry and said, ‘Get out of my way, you
ugly thing, or I’ll get all the other raindrops together and roll you out
of the road.’

“Oh, no, do not do that,” said the stone, “for I am sheltering a
beautiful flower from the wind, but I’ll lift myself up a little so you
can crawl under.”

“It was awfully dark and nasty and creepy under the stone, and I didn’t
like it a bit, but when I came out into the sunshine and saw the
beautiful flowers on the other side I was glad that I hadn’t spoiled
their shelter.”

“‘Isn’t this lovely?’ said a raindrop near me, ‘let us go and look at
all the flowers.’ Then a crowd of raindrops that had gathered said, ‘Let
us spread out more and more and give them all a drink,’ and we went
among the flowers on the slope and in the valleys. As we watered them
they smiled back at us till their smiles almost seemed brighter than
the sunlight. When evening came we went down the little brooks over the
waterfalls and hopped and danced in the eddy while we told one another
about the things we had seen. There were raindrops from the glaciers and
from the hot springs, from the lava fields and from the green grassy
slopes, and from the lofty mountain peaks, where all the land could be
seen. Then we went on together singing over the level plains and into the
ocean.”

For awhile neither one said anything. Then comrade spoke, “Yes, when I go
back I’ll get the others to go with me and we’ll spread out more—and now
I am going back. See the grain down there, how dry it is. Now I’m going
to get the other raindrops to spread out over the plains and give all the
plants a drink and in that way help everyone else.”

“But see the flowers there on the slope on the east side,” said friend.
“They’ll fade if I don’t go down again to help them.”

“We’ll meet again,” said both, as they dashed off to help the flowers and
the grain.

The story ends. A pause ensues and Herdis, the old, old lady in the play
says, “Yes, we are all raindrops.”

It is a beautiful thought and exceptionally well worked out in the play.
The raindrops are brothers. One’s name is Sveinn. He lives in Iceland.
The other is Snorri. His home is America. Snorri crosses the ocean to
tell Sveinn about America. Upon his arrival he meets a girl named Asta
and falls in love with her, little thinking that she is the betrothed
of his brother Sveinn. Asta is a beautiful girl. She has large blue eyes
and light hair which she wears in a long braid over her left shoulder. In
act three, when speaking to Asta, Snorri says, “Sometimes I think I am
the raindrop that fell on the other side of the ridge, and that my place
may be there; but then I think of the many things I have learned to love
here—the beautiful scenery, the midnight sun, the simple and unaffected
manners of the people, their hospitality, and probably more than anything
else some of the people I have come to know. A few of these especially I
have learned to love.”

It does not dawn upon Snorri that Asta has given her hand to his brother
Sveinn until the fourth and last act of the play. The scene is a most
impressive one. It was something the authors had painted themselves.
At the right stands the quaint little sky-blue cottage, with its long
corrugated tin roof. To the left, the stony cliffs rise. In the distance
the winding road, the tumbling waterfall, and snow-capped mountain can
be seen. Near the doorway of the cottage there is a large rock on which
Asta often sits in the full red glow of the midnight sun.

As the curtain goes up Snorri enters, looks at his watch, and utters
these words, “They are all asleep, but I must see her to-night.” He
gently goes to the door, quietly raps, turns and looks at the scenery,
and says: “How beautiful are these northern lights! I’ve seen them before
stretching like a shimmering curtain across the northern horizon, with
tongues of flame occasionally leaping across the heavens; but here they
are above me, and all around me, till they light up the scene so that
I can see even in the distance the rugged and snow-capped hills miles
away. How truly the Icelandic nation resembles the country—like the old
volcanoes which, while covered with a sheet of ice and snow, still have
burning underneath, the eternal fires.”

Asta then appears in the doorway and exclaims, “Snorri.” After an
exchange of greetings they sit down and talk. Snorri tells Asta of his
love and finally asks her to become his wife. Asta is silent. She turns
and looks at the northern lights, then bows her head and with her hands
carelessly thrown over her knees she tells him that it cannot be—that it
is Sveinn.

Snorri arises, moves away, covers his face with his hands and exclaims,
“Oh, God! I never thought of that. What a blind fool I have been!” As
Asta starts to comfort him Sveinn appears in the doorway, sees them
and starts to turn away, but in so doing makes a little noise. Snorri
startled, quickly looks around and says, “Sveinn, come here. I have been
blind; will you forgive me?” Then he takes Asta’s hand and places it in
Sveinn’s, bids them good-by and starts to leave.

Sveinn says, “Snorri! Where are you going? You are not leaving us at this
time of night, and in sorrow?”

Snorri, returning, looks at the quaint little cottage, the waterfall, and
then at Asta and Sveinn, pauses a moment, and says, “Perhaps we shall
meet again—like the raindrops.” The curtain falls and the play ends.

Neither of these young men who wrote the play ever had any ambition
to become a playwright, a scene painter, or an actor. To-day, one is
a successful country-life worker in the great northwest. The other is
interested in harnessing the water power which is so abundant in his
native land.

When the play was presented, the audience sat spellbound, evidently
realizing that two country lads had found hidden life forces in
themselves which they never knew they possessed. All they needed, like
thousands of others who live in the country and even in the city, was
just a chance to express themselves.

Authors of play—M. Thorfinnson and E. Briem.

COUNTRY FOLKS

There are literally millions of people in country communities to-day
whose abilities along various lines have been hidden, simply because
they have never had an opportunity to give expression to their talents.
In many respects this lack of self-expression has been due to the social
conditions existing in the country, the narrow-minded attitude of society
toward those who till the soil, and the absence of those forces which
seek to arouse the creative instincts and stimulate that imagination and
initiative in country people which mean leadership.

Social stagnancy is a characteristic trait of the small town and the
country. Community spirit is often at a low ebb. Because of the stupid
monotony of the village and country existence, the tendency of the people
young and old is to move to larger centers of population. Young people
leave the small town and the country because of its deadly dullness. They
want Life. The emptiness of rural environment does not appeal to them.
The attitude of mind of the country youth is best expressed by Gray in
his “Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard” which runs as follows:

“Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

Many young people find the town and country dead simply because they
crave fellowship and social enjoyment. When an afternoon local train
passes through a certain section of any state, people gather at every
station, some to meet their friends, others to bid their friends
farewell, and dozens to see some form of life. With many it is the only
excitement that enters their lives, except on extraordinary occasions.
After the harvest many a country lad goes to the city to enjoy a feast of
entertainment, in order to satisfy his social hunger.

A few years ago the national Department of Agriculture sent out hundreds
of letters to country women, asking them what would make life in the
country districts more attractive. Hundreds of the replies which were
received from practically every section of America told the story of
social starvation and the needs of country communities. One woman from
Kansas in her reply wrote:

“We hope you can help us to consolidate schools and plan
them under a commission of experts in school efficiency and
community education. Through this commission we could arrange
clubs, social unions, and social, instructive, and educational
entertainments. We ought not to be compelled to go to town
for doubtful amusements, but, rousing the civic pride of the
community, have the best at home.”

Another one from Wyoming in her letter stated that she thought the
country child had the same right to culture and refinement as the city
child. A woman whose home was in Massachusetts gave the following
suggestions in her reply:

“On the side of overcoming the emptiness of rural life;
articles suggesting courses of reading both along the line of
better farming and of subjects of public interest. Perhaps the
wider use of the rural school or church for social centers,
or for discussion by farmers, their wives, sons and daughters
might be suggested.”

A letter written from Florida contained the following:

“First, a community center where good lectures, good music,
readings, and demonstrations might be enjoyed by all, a public
library station. We feel if circulating libraries containing
books that can be suggested on purity, hygiene, social service,
and scientific instruction, that our women in the rural
districts need to read for the protection of their children;
also books on farming and poultry raising, botany, culture of
flowers, and many other themes that will help them to discover
the special charm and advantage of living in the pure air and
being familiar with the beauties of nature and thereby make our
people desire to stay on the farms.”

[Illustration: Social Stagnancy is a Characteristic Trait of the Small
Town and the Country]

A letter from Tennessee said: “Education is the first thing needed;
education of every kind. Not simply agricultural education, although that
has its place; not merely the primary training offered by the public
schools in arithmetic, reading, grammar, etc. I mean the education
that unfastens doors and opens up vistas; the education that includes
travel, college, acquaintance with people of culture; the education
that makes one forget the drudgery of to-day in the hope of to-morrow.
Sarah Barnwell Elliott makes a character in one of her stories say that
the difference between himself (a mountaineer) and the people of the
university town is ‘vittles and seein’ fur.’ The language of culture
would probably translate that into ‘environment and vision.’ It is the
‘seein’ fur’ that farm women need most, although lots of good might
be done by working some on the ‘vittles.’ Fried pork and sirup and
hot biscuit and coffee have had a lot to do with the ‘vision’ of many
a farmer and farmer’s wife. A good digestion has much to do with our
outlook on life. Education is such an end in itself, if it were never
of practical use. But one needs it all on the farm and a thousand
times more. ‘Knowledge is power,’ as I learned years ago from my copy
book. But even if it were not, it is a solace for pain and a panacea
for loneliness. You may teach us farm women to kill flies, stop eating
pork, and ventilate our homes; but if you will put in us the thirst
for knowledge you will not need to do these things. We will do them
ourselves.”

A note from North Carolina read something like this:

“The country woman needs education, recreation, and a better
social life. If broad-minded, sensible women could be appointed
to make monthly lectures at every public schoolhouse
throughout the country, telling them how and what to do,
getting them together, and interesting them in good literature
and showing them their advantages, giving good advice,
something like a ‘woman’s department’ in magazines, this would
fill a great need in the life of country women. Increase our
social life and you increase our pleasures, and an increase of
pleasure means an increase of good work.”

All these answers and many more show something of the social conditions
in the country so far as women are concerned. In other words, older
people desert the country because they want better living conditions and
more social and educational advantages for themselves and their children.
Moral degeneracy in the country, like the city, is usually due to lack
of proper social recreation. When people have something healthful with
which to occupy their minds, they scarcely ever think of wrong-doing. A
noted student of social problems recently said that the barrenness of
country life for the girl growing into womanhood, hungry for amusement,
is one reason why so many girls in the country go to the city. Students
of science attribute the cause of many of the cases of insanity among
country people to loneliness and monotony. That something fundamental
must be done along social lines in the country communities in order to
help people find themselves, nobody will dispute. Already mechanical
devices, transportation facilities, and methods of communication have
done much to eliminate the drudgery, to do away with isolation, and to
make country life more attractive.

An influence which has done a good deal to stifle expression in country
people has been the narrow-minded attitude certain elements in society
have taken toward those who till the soil. When these elements have
wanted to belittle their city friends’ intelligence or social standing,
they have usually dubbed them “old farmers.” Briefly stated, the quickest
way to insult a man’s thinking power or social position has been to
give him the title “farmer.” The world has not entirely gotten over the
“Hey-Rube” idea about those who produce civilization’s food supply. A
certain stigma is still attached to the vocation. As a group, country
people have in many places been socially ostracized for centuries.
A social barrier still exists between the city-bred girl and the
country-bred boy. As a result, all these things have had a tendency to
destroy the country man’s pride in his profession. This has weakened his
morale and his one ambition has been to get out of something in which he
cannot be on an equal with other people, and consequently he has retired.
Goldsmith in “The Deserted Village” hit the nail on the head when he said:

“Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made;
But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.”

To be an honest tiller of the soil, to be actively engaged in feeding
humanity, should be one of the noblest callings known to mankind and
carry with it a social prestige. The Chinese Emperor used to plow a
furrow of land once a year to stamp his approval upon agriculture. The
reason Washington, Lincoln, Justin Morrill, and Roosevelt became so
keenly interested in country life was that they saw the significance of
it and its importance to the world. George Washington was a farmer, a
country gentleman. Mount Vernon is a country estate, a large farm. The
father of our country believed that a great country people was the basic
foundation of a great America. Thomas Jefferson once said, “The chosen
people are those who till the soil.” When you ridicule any people, they
are not likely to express their talents and the finer instincts which
lie hidden in them. A weak rural morale eventually means rural decay.
The heart of rural America will never beat true until society looks upon
agriculture as a life, as something to get into and not steer away from
or get out of its environment.

Another factor which has retarded the expression of the hidden abilities
of those who live in the small towns and country communities has been the
absence of any force which seeks to arouse the creative instincts and to
stimulate the imagination and initiative. Even to-day, those agencies in
charge of country-life problems, as well as city life, direct very little
of their energies into channels which give color and romance and a social
spirit to these folks. The most interesting part of any country community
or neighborhood is the people who live in it. Unless they are satisfied
with their condition, it is little use to talk better farming. A retired
farmer is usually one who is dissatisfied with country life. A social
vision must be discovered in the country, that will not only keep great
men who are country born in the country, but also attract others who live
in the cities.

The impulse to build up a community spirit in a rural neighborhood may
come from without, but the true genuine work of making country life more
attractive must come from within. The country people themselves must
work out their own civilization. A country town or district must have an
individuality or mind of its own. The mind of a community is the mind of
the people who live in it. If they are big and broad and generous, so is
the community. Folks are folks, whether they live in the city or country.
In most respects their problems are identical.

It is a natural condition for people to crave self-expression. In years
gone by men who have been born and reared on the farm have left it and
gone to the city, in order to find a place for the expression of their
talents. This migration has done more to hinder than to set forward the
cause of civilization. People who live in the country must find their
true expression in their respective neighborhoods, just as much as do
people who live in the city. You cannot continually take everything out
of the country and cease to put anything back into it. The city has
always meant expression—the country, repression. Talent usually goes to
the congested centers of population to express itself. For generations
when a young man or woman has had superior ability along some particular
line and lived in the country, their friends have always advised them to
move to a large center of population where their talents would find a
ready expression. You and I, for instance, who have encouraged them to go
hither, have never thought that we were sacrificing the country to build
the city. This has been a mistake. We all know it.

Over fifty years ago a country doctor became the father of two boys. In
age they were five years apart. The doctor brought them up well and sent
them away to a medical school. Unlike most country-bred boys who go to
large cities, when they finished their courses they went back to the old
home town and began their practice. By using their creative instincts,
organizing power, imagination, and initiative, it was not long before
they became nationally known. People call their establishment “the
clinic in the cornfields.” To-day these “country doctors” treat over
fifty thousand patients. Their names are known wherever medical science
is known. Railroads run special sleepers hundreds of miles to their old
home town in Olmstead County, Minnesota, which, by the way, is one of the
richest agricultural counties in America. The great big thing about these
two men is that they found an opportunity for the expression of their
talents in a typical country community. They didn’t go to a large city,
they made thousands of city people come to them.

Conservatively speaking, there are over ten thousand small towns in
America to-day. More than ten million people live in them. These
communities are often meeting places for the millions whose homes are
in the open country. Rural folks still think of a community as that
territory with its people which lies within the team haul of a given
center. It is out in these places where the silent common people dwell.
It is in these neighborhood laboratories that a new vision of country
life is being developed. They are the cradles of democracy. It is here
that a force is necessary to democratize art so the common people can
appreciate it, science so they can use it, government so they can take a
part in it, and recreation so they can enjoy it.

The former Secretary of Agriculture aptly expressed the importance of the
problem when he said:

“The real concern in America over the movement of rural
population to urban centers is whether those who remain in
agriculture after the normal contribution to the city are the
strong, intelligent, well seasoned families, in which the best
traditions of agriculture and citizenship have been lodged
from generation to generation. The present universal cry of
‘keep the boy on the farm’ should be expanded into a public
sentiment for making country life more attractive in every way.
When farming is made profitable and when the better things of
life are brought in increasing measure to the rural community,
the great motives which lead youth and middle age to leave
the country districts will be removed. In order to assure a
continuance of the best strains of farm people in agriculture,
there can be no relaxation of the present movements for a
better country life, economic, social, and educational.”

THE LAND OF THE DACOTAHS

A skilled physician when he visits a sick room always diagnoses the case
of the patient before he administers a remedy. In order to comprehend
thoroughly the tremendous significance the Land of the Dacotahs bears in
its relation to the solution of the problem of country life in America,
one must know something about the commonwealth and its people.

North Dakota is a prairie state. Its land area comprises seventy-one
thousand square miles of a rich black soil equal in its fertility to
the deposits at the delta of the River Nile in Egypt. There are over
forty million acres of tillable land. The state has one of the largest
undeveloped lignite coal areas in the world.

Its climate is invigorating. The air is dry and wholesome. The summer
months are delightful. The fields of golden grain are inviting. The
winters, on the other hand, are long and dreary, and naturally lonely.
People are prone to judge the climate of the state by its blizzards.
Those who do, forget this fact—a vigorous climate always develops a
healthy and vigorous people. No geographical barriers break the monotony
of the lonesome prairie existence. A deadly dullness hovers over each
community.

The population of the state is distinctly rural. Over seventy per cent of
the people live in un-incorporated territory. Seven out of every eight
persons are classed as rural. The vocation of the masses is agriculture.
Everybody, everywhere, every day in the state talks agriculture. At
the present time there are about two hundred towns with less than five
hundred inhabitants.

One of the most interesting characteristics of this prairie commonwealth
is its population. They are a sturdy people, strong in heart and broad in
mental vision. The romance of the Indian and the cowboy, the fur-trader
and the trapper, has been the theme of many an interesting tale. The
first white settler, who took a knife and on bended knee cut squares
of sod and built a shanty and faced long hard winters on this northern
prairie, is a character the whole world loves and honors. Several years
ago an old schoolmaster, whose home is not so very far from Minnehaha
Falls, delivered a “Message to the Northwest” which typifies the spirit
of these people. He said in part:

“I am an old man now, and have seen many things in the world. I
have seen this great country that we speak of as the Northwest,
come, in my lifetime, to be populous and rich. The forest has
fallen before the pioneer, the field has blossomed, and the
cities have risen to greatness. If there is anything that an
old man eighty years of age could say to a people among whom he
has spent the happiest days of his life, it is this: We live
in the most blessed country in the world. The things we have
accomplished are only the beginning. As the years go on, and
always we increase our strength, our power, and our wealth, we
must not depart from the simple teachings of our youth. For the
moral fundamentals are the same and unchangeable. Here in the
Northwest we shall make a race of men that shall inherit the
earth. Here in the distant years, when I and others who have
labored with me shall long have been forgotten, there will be
a power in material accomplishment, in spiritual attainment,
in wealth, strength, and moral influence, the like of which
the world has not yet seen. This I firmly believe. And the
people of the Northwest, moving ever forward to greater things,
will accomplish all this as they adhere always to the moral
fundamentals, and not otherwise.”

The twenty-odd nationalities who live in the Dacotahs came from lands
where folklore was a part of their everyday life. Many a Norseman—and
there are nearly two hundred thousand people of Scandinavian origin,
Norwegians, Danes, Swedes, and Icelanders, in the state—knows the story
of Ole Bull, the famous violinist, who when a lad used to take his
instrument, go out in the country near the waterfalls, listen attentively
to the water as it rushed over the abyss, then take his violin, place
it under his chin, and draw the bow across the strings, to see whether
he could imitate the mysterious sounds. Most of these Norse people live
in the northern and eastern section of the state. The hundred thousand
citizens whose ancestors came from the British Isles—the English, the
Welsh, the Scotch, the Irish, and the Canadians—know something of
Shakespeare and Synge and Bobbie Burns. Ten years ago there were sixty
thousand people of Russian descent and forty-five thousand of Teutonic
origin in the state. They were acquainted with Tolstoy and Wagner.
Greeks, Italians, and Turks, besides many other nationalities, live in
scattered sections of the state. In fact, seventy-two per cent of the
citizens of the state are either foreign born or of foreign descent. All
these people came originally from countries whose civilizations are much
older than our own. All have inherited a poetry, a drama, an art, a life
in their previous national existence, which, if brought to light through
the medium of some great American ideal and force, would give to the
state and the country a rural civilization such as has never been heard
of in the history of the world. All these people are firm believers in
American ideals.

One excellent feature in connection with the life of the people who live
in Hiawatha’s Land of the Dacotahs is their attitude toward education.
They believe that knowledge is power. Out on these prairies they have
erected schoolhouses for the training of their youth. To-day there are
nearly five hundred consolidated schools in the state. One hundred and
fifty of these are in the open country, dozens of which are many miles
from any railroad. Twenty-three per cent of the state area is served by
this class of schools. Much of the social life of a community is centered
around the school, the church, the village or town hall, and the home.
The greater the number of activities these institutions indulge in for
the social and civic betterment of the whole community, the more quickly
the people find themselves and become contented with their surroundings.

In most respects, however, North Dakota is not unlike other states.
People there are actually hungry for social recreation. The prairies are
lonely in the winter. Thousands of young men and women whose homes are in
rural communities, when asked what they wanted out in the country most,
have responded, “More Life.” The heart hunger of folks for other folks is
just the same there as everywhere.

THE LITTLE COUNTRY THEATER

With a knowledge of these basic facts in mind, as well as a personal
acquaintance with hundreds of young men and women whose homes are in
small communities and country districts, the idea of The Little Country
Theater was conceived by the author. A careful study of hundreds and
literally thousands of requests received from every section of the state,
as well as of America and from many foreign countries, for suitable
material for presentation on public programs and at public functions,
showed the necessity of a country life laboratory to test out various
kinds of programs.

The idea conceived became an actual reality when an old, dingy, dull-grey
chapel on the second floor of the administration building at the North
Dakota Agricultural College, located at Fargo, North Dakota, was
remodeled into what is now known as “The Little Country Theater.” It
was opened the tenth day of February in the year nineteen hundred and
fourteen. In appearance it is most fascinating. It is simply a large
playhouse put under a reducing glass. It is just the size of an average
country town hall. It has a seating capacity of two hundred. The stage is
thirty feet in width, twenty feet in depth, having a proscenium opening
of ten feet in height and fifteen feet in width. There are no boxes and
balconies. The decorations are plain and simple.

The color scheme is green and gold, the gold predominating. Three beams
finished in golden oak cross the mansard ceiling, the beams projecting
down several feet on each side wall, from which frosted light bowls and
globes are suspended by brass log chains, the indirect lighting giving a
soft and subdued tone to the whole theater. The eight large windows are
hung with tasteful green draperies. The curtain is a tree-shade green
velour. The birch-stained seats are broad and not crowded together.
There is a place for a stereopticon and a moving picture machine. The
scenery is simple and plain. Whenever possible, green curtains are used.
Simplicity is the keynote of the theater. It is an example of what can be
done with hundreds of village halls, unused portions of school houses,
vacant country stores and basements of country churches in communities.

[Illustration: An Old Dingy, Dull-Grey Chapel on the Second Floor of
the Administration Building was Remodeled Into What Is Now Known as The
Little Country Theater]

There are three unique features in connection with The Little Country
Theater which deserve special mention—the tower, the attic or “hayloft,”
and the package library system.

The tower is just to the right of the lower end of the stage. It, too, is
plain and simple. It is used as a study and contains materials gathered
from all over the world on the social side of country life.

The attic is to the left of the stage and up a flight of stairs. It
was formerly an old garret. For over twenty years it was unused. It
is the workshop of the theater and contains committee rooms, dressing
rooms, a property room, a costume wardrobe, a small kitchen, and a
dining room which will comfortably seat seventy-five persons. In many
respects it corresponds to the basement of a community building, a
church, or an addition tacked on to a village hall. It is often used
for an exhibit hall or a scenic studio. In short, The Little Country
Theater is a typical rural community center, a country-life laboratory.
One significant feature about this experimental laboratory is that the
birch-stained seats, the green curtains, the scenic effects, the stage
properties, the five hundred costumes, the furniture, the dishes, and
all the other necessities have been bought with funds taken in from
entertainments and plays, thereby demonstrating that any community can do
the same. Endowments in the country are always difficult to raise.

Twelve years ago a country school-teacher sent in a request for some
program material. Three personal copies of plays were sent to her, one
of which she staged. It was not very long before others heard where
she secured her data and many inquiries followed. Out of this request,
together with an acquaintance with an old, white-haired man who had just
started a similar system at a leading western university, the package
library idea came into existence. It is a sort of an intellectual rural
free delivery. One might call it the backbone of The Little Country
Theater. In order to understand thoroughly the importance of the service
which the system renders it will be necessary to say something about the
aim of the work, its scope, how the data is gathered, and the practical
results already obtained.

The aim of the package library system is to vitalize all the sources of
information which can be used for material for presentation on public
programs. Its chief object is to make the schools, the churches, the
homes, and the village or town halls, centers of community activity where
men and women and their children, young and old, can meet just to talk
over things, to find out the normal human life forces and life processes,
and really to discover themselves.

The field of work is the state and its people. The scope of the service
is broad. Any individual or group of people in the state can obtain
program material simply by writing and asking for it.

In order to render the best aid possible, the system gathers data and
information from reliable sources. Briefs upon subjects relating to
country life, copies of festivals, pageants, plays, readings, dialogues,
pictures of floats, parades, processions, exhibit arrangements,
costume designs, character portrayals, plans of stages, auditoriums,
open-air theaters, community buildings, constitutions of all kinds of
organizations, catalogues of book publishers—in short, every kind of
material necessary in building a program which will help people to
express themselves—are loaned for reading purposes to citizens of the
state. A few minutes’ talk with anybody interested in getting up programs
in small communities will soon show the dearth of material along these
lines.

In the years gone by, as well as in the present, the letters which come
to the desk daily have told many an interesting story.

An energetic teacher in a country school in the northern part of the
state sent for several copies of plays and play catalogues. None of
the plays sent suited her. She decided to give an original play, “The
Comedy.” When asked for a description of the staging of the original
production, she sent the following letter, which is indicative of what
people really can do in the country to find themselves.

“When I wrote to you about ‘The Comedy,’ I do not know what
idea I gave you of it; perhaps not a very true one; so I am
sending you a copy. The little song is one I learned from a
victrola record, so the music may not be correct, but with
a little originality, can be used. The little play has the
quality of making the people expect something extraordinary,
but when performed, the parts are funny, but still not funny
enough to produce a ‘roar.’ They are remembered and spoken of
long afterwards. Now around here we often hear parts spoken
of. I enjoyed training the young people, and they were quite
successful. I have found that every place I go people in the
country enjoy the school programs very much and speak of them
often. We wanted to take some pictures, but could not. The
weather was so cloudy before and afterward that we could not
take any, but may this Sunday afternoon. I wish I knew just
what to write about or just what you wish to know. I liked our
arrangements of lights. We only had lanterns. A dressing room
was curtained off and the rest of the space clear. We hung four
lanterns in a row, one below the other, and had one standing
on the floor at the side opposite from the dressing room, and
then one on the floor and one held by the man who pulled the
curtain on the other side. This gave splendid light. There was
no light near the audience except at the organ.

“Hoping you will enjoy reading ‘The Comedy’ as much as we did
playing and writing it, I am

“Yours sincerely,

“A. K.”

There is something very human about a letter when it solicits your
personal help and suggestions. To quote from several of the thousands
received will not only show the need for the package library, because of
the scarcity of material in small towns and the country, but also give an
insight into the mind of the people themselves.

“Barton, N. D., October 23, 1911.

“Gentlemen:—Would you kindly send a copy of the following
plays: Corner Store, The Deestrick Skule, Country Romance, Pa’s
Picnic, A Rival by Request, School for Scandal, Tempest in a
Tea-pot, Which is Which.

“I wish to get up an entertainment in my school and wish you
could help me select a play which would not require too much
room and too many actors. Will return the ones I do not use
immediately. Any favor which you may render will be greatly
appreciated.

“Very respectfully,

“E. S.”

“Gilby, N. D., Jan. 18, 1912.

“Dear Sir:—

“Will you please forward your list of amateur plays. We are
about to stage the annual H. S. play, and find it rather
difficult to select a play not too sentimental in characters.
We would like one for 5-7 boys and 5-8 girls. Our hall is small
with cramped stage room, and the scene must be quite simple.
If you have any suggestions to offer or any sample play to
forward for examination, will you kindly let us know as soon as
possible.

“Yours very truly,

“E. F. L.”

Ross, N. D., Jan. 22, 1913.

“Dear Sir:—

“Enclosed find plays, also stamps to cover mailing expenses.

“Please send me the following amateur plays: Exerbition of
District Skule, Mock Trial, Scrap of Paper, Sugar and Cream.
Please send also the following as listed under package
libraries: Manual Training, School House as an Art Gallery,
School House as a Social Center, Fireless Cooker.

“Yours truly,

“M. C.”

“Backoo, N. D., Jan. 24, 1914.

“Dear Sir:—

“I rec’d the packet of information on Country Life and will
return it after our next meeting the 27th. Can you send me two
or three dialogues suitable for a Literary Society in a rural
district. We have 6 or 8 young ladies that might take part but
very few young men. And will you suggest a few subjects for
debate of interest and benefit to a country community.

“Yours truly,

“J. B. P.”

“Austin, N. D., Feb. 11, 1914.

“Gentlemen:—

“I should be very glad if you could send me a short play of say
30 or 45 minutes length as you mentioned in Nov. We are using
the schoolhouse as a meeting place and so have not much room on
the stage. Could use one requiring from 4 to 8 characters.

“Yours truly,

“H. W. B.”

[Illustration: It Has a Seating Capacity of Two Hundred]

“Verona, N. D., Feb. 14, 1915.

“Dear Mr. ⸺:

“While to-day the blizzard rages outside—inside, thanks
largely to yours and your department’s work, many of us will
be felicitously occupied with the mental delights of literary
preparation and participation. Our society is thriving
splendidly. Last Friday another similar society was started in
the country north of here. Went out and helped them organize.
They named their club the Greenville Booster Club. Some of the
leading lights are of the country’s most substantial farmers.
Suggest that you send literature on club procedure to their
program committee. This community, both town and country north,
has for the past many years been the scene of much senseless
strife over town matters, school matters, etc.

“I believe the dawn of an era of good feeling is at hand. These
get-together clubs are bound to greatly facilitate matters that
way. At their next meeting I am on their debate and supposed to
get up a paper to read on any topic I choose, besides. Now with
carrying the mail, writing for our newspaper, practicing and
singing with the M. E. choir, also our literary male quartet,
to say nothing of debating and declaiming and writing for two
literaries my time is all taken up. Could you find me something
suitable for a reading?

“Sincerely yours,

“A. B.”

“Regan, N. Dak., Nov. 30, 1917.

“Mr. A. ⸺:

“My sister sent to you for some plays which we are returning.
We put on ‘The Lonelyville Social Club’ after ten days’
practice and cleared $39.10 in Regan and $93.00 when we played
it last night in Wilton. It took well and we are much pleased
with our effort. The proceeds go to the Red Cross.

“Thanking you most sincerely, I am

“V. C. P. (and the rest of the troop).”

“Hensel, N. D., Mar. 15, 1918.

“Dear Friend:

“I received the paint which you sent me. I thank you very much
for it, it certainly came in handy. Do you need it back or if
not how much does it cost? I would rather buy it if you can
spare it.

“The play was a success. We had a big crowd everywhere.
Everybody seemed to like it. Some proclaimed it to be the best
home talent play they had seen. We have played it four times.
Whether we play more has not been decided.

“Yours truly,

“A. H.”

“Overly, N. D., Mar. 21, 1918.

“Gentlemen:—

“Have you any book from the library that would help with a
Patriotic entertainment to be given in this community for the
benefit of the Red Cross? If you can offer suggestions also, we
will appreciate it.

“Thanking you, I am, truly yours,

“G. L. D.”

[Illustration: The Package Library System]

“Lansford, N. D., May 25, 1920.

“Dear Mr. A.:

“As a teacher in a rural school I gave a program at our
school on last Saturday evening. We had an audience of about
seventy-five people and they simply went wild over our program.
Our school has an enrollment of four girls, being the only
school in the county where only girls are enrolled and also the
smallest school in the county. Our program lasted two hours and
twenty minutes and was given by the four girls.

“We have been asked to give our entertainment in the hall in
Lansford. Now I want to ask you for a suggestion. Don’t you
think that in a make-up for ‘grandmothers’ that blocking out
teeth and also for making the face appear wrinkled’ would
improve the parts in which grandmothers take part?

“Would it be possible for you to send me the things necessary
as I would like to get them as soon as possible and do not know
where to send for them. If you can get them for me I shall send
the money also postage, etc., as soon as I receive them.

“Trusting that this will not inconvenience you greatly, I
remain,

“Very truly yours,

“E. B.”

It is not an uncommon occurrence to get a long distance call at eleven
o’clock at night from someone two or three hundred miles away, asking
for information. Telegrams are a common thing. Conferences with people
who come from different communities for advice are frequent. The tower,
the attic, and the package library are an integral part of the theater.

The aim of The Little Country Theater is to produce such plays and
exercises as can be easily staged in a country schoolhouse, the basement
of a country church, the sitting room of a farm home, the village or
town hall, or any place where people assemble for social betterment. Its
principal function is to stimulate an interest in good clean drama and
original entertainment among the people living in the open country and
villages, in order to help them find themselves, that they may become
better satisfied with the community in which they live. In other words,
its real purpose is to use the drama and all that goes with the drama as
a force in getting people together and acquainted with each other, in
order that they may find out the hidden life forces of nature itself.
Instead of making the drama a luxury for the classes, its aim is to make
it an instrument for the enlightenment and enjoyment of the masses.

In a country town nothing attracts so much attention, proves so popular,
pleases so many, or causes so much favorable comment as a home talent
play. It is doubtful whether Sir Horace Plunkett ever appreciated
the significance of the statement he once made when he said that the
simplest piece of amateur acting or singing done in the village hall by
one of the villagers would create more enthusiasm among his friends and
neighbors than could be excited by the most consummate performance of
a professional in a great theater where no one in the audience knew or
cared for the performer. Nothing interests people in each other so much
as habitually working together. It’s one way people find themselves.
A home talent play not only affords such an opportunity, but it also
unconsciously introduces a friendly feeling in a neighborhood. It
develops a community spirit because it is something everybody wants to
make a success, regardless of the local jealousies or differences of
opinion. When a country town develops a community consciousness, it
satisfies its inhabitants.

The drama is a medium through which America must inevitably express its
highest form of democracy. When it can be used as an instrument to get
people to express themselves, in order that they may build up a bigger
and better community life, it will have performed a real service to
society. When the people who live in the small community and the country
awaken to the possibilities which lie hidden in themselves through the
impulse of a vitalized drama, they will not only be less eager to move to
centers of population, but will also be a force in attracting city folks
to dwell in the country. The monotony of country existence will change
into a newer and broader life.

If The Little Country Theater can inspire people in country districts to
do bigger things in order that they may find themselves, it will have
performed its function. It is the Heart of a Prairie, dedicated to the
expression of the emotions of country people everywhere and in all ages.

THE HEART OF A PRAIRIE

People are more or less influenced by their emotions. What matters is not
so much what persons think about certain things as how they feel toward
them. Thought and emotion usually go hand in hand. One is essential
to the other. It is through the heart of a people that emotions are
expressed. For centuries the drama has been the great heart strength
through which humanity expresses its higher and finer instincts. Its
power to sway the feelings of mankind by seeking to find out the hidden
life forces in us all can never be overestimated. It is through the
drama that people learn to interpret human nature, its weakness and its
strength. The sad and the happy, the rich and the poor, the strong and
the weak, the young and the old, those with many different ideas and
ideals see their actions reflected in this mirror. The supreme duty of
society is to point out the way to its citizens, whether they live in the
country or in the city, to live happy and useful lives. In this respect
the drama plays an important rôle. As Victor Hugo once said, “The theater
is a crucible of civilization. It is a place of human communion. It is in
the theater that the public soul is formed.”

In the early generations of the world it was the only form of human
worship. The Shepherds of the Nile conceived a sacred play in which
the character “the God of the Overflow” foretold by means of dramatic
expression the period of the flooding of the valley. The Vedic poets
sang their songs in the land of the Five Rivers of India. The Hebrews
expressed their religious philosophy through a democratic festival called
the Feast of Tabernacles. The country people who made Rome their center
celebrated the ingathering of their food with a festival called the
Cerealia. The Festival of Demeter was a characteristic play of the early
Greeks. The country people of the Orient had ritualistic dramas dealing
with animal and plant life. The Incas, the Indians of Peru, worshiped at
the Altars of Corn. In the realm of nature, Ceres, the goddess of grains,
Mother Earth, Pomona, the goddess of fruits, Persephone, emblematical
of the vegetable world, Flora, the goddess of flowers, Apollo, the sun
god, and Neptune the god of water, have been the theme of many a dramatic
story. All these ceremonies and many more not only signify the wide usage
of this art in every age and every part of the world, but also unfold
tremendous possibilities for future pageant, play, and pantomime among
country people. If civilization’s sense of appreciation could be aroused
to see the hidden beauties of field and forest and stream—of God’s great
out of doors—men and women and children would flock to the countryside.
The drama is one of the many agencies which seeks to stimulate this sense
of appreciation. It deals with human problems by means of appeals to the
emotions.

The absence of a vision in many country communities has been one of the
chief causes for their backwardness, their dullness, and their monotony.
When the country develops a robust social mind, one that appeals because
of the bigness of the theme, it is then that life in the open and on the
soil will become attractive. The lure of the white way will pass like
ships at night. That a new light seems to be breaking is evidenced by the
establishment of consolidated schools, community buildings, and country
parks. These and other social institutions, together with better means
of communication and transportation, materially assist in the solution
of the country life problems. A country district must be active and not
passive if it would interest the young and even the old.

If the drama can serve as just one of the mediums to get the millions of
country people here and elsewhere to express themselves in order that
they may find themselves there is no telling what big things will happen
in the generations to come. If, as has often been said, agriculture is
the mother of civilization, then every energy of a people and every
agency dramatic and otherwise, should be bent to make that life eventful
and interesting from every angle. The function of The Little Country
Theater is to reveal the inner life of the country community in all its
color and romance, especially in its relation to the solution of the
problems in country life. It aims to interpret the life of the people of
the state, which is the life of genuine American country folks.

CHARACTERISTIC INCIDENTS

While still in its infancy, the work of The Little Country Theater
has already more than justified its existence. It has produced many
festivals, pageants, and plays and has been the source of inspiration to
scores of country communities. One group of young people from various
sections of the state, representing five different nationalities,
Scotch, Irish, English, Norwegian, and Swede, successfully staged “The
Fatal Message,” a one-act comedy by John Kendrick Bangs. Another cast
of characters from the country presented “Cherry Tree Farm,” an English
comedy, in a most acceptable manner. An illustration to demonstrate that
a home talent play is a dynamic force in helping people find themselves
was afforded in the production of “The Country Life Minstrels” by an
organization of young men coming entirely from the country districts.
The story reads like a fairy tale. The club decided to give a minstrel
show. At the first rehearsal nobody possessed any talent, except one
young man. He could clog. At the second rehearsal, a tenor and a mandolin
player were discovered. At the third, several other good voices were
found, a quartet and a twelve piece band were organized. When the show
was presented, twenty-eight different young men furnished a variety of
acts equal to a first class professional company. They all did something
and entered into the entertainment with a splendid spirit. “Leonarda,” a
play by Björnstjerne Björnson with Norwegian music between acts, made an
excellent impression.

[Illustration: A Farm Home Scene in Iceland Thirty Years Ago]

Perhaps the most interesting incident that has occurred in connection
with the work in this country life laboratory was the staging of a
tableau, “A Farm Home Scene in Iceland Thirty Years Ago,” by twenty
young men and women of Icelandic descent whose homes are in the country
districts of North Dakota. The tableau was very effective. The scene
represented an interior sitting room of an Icelandic home. The walls
were whitewashed. In the rear of the room was a fireplace. The old
grandfather was seated in an armchair near the fireplace reading a
story in the Icelandic language. About the room were several young
ladies dressed in Icelandic costumes busily engaged in spinning yarn and
knitting, a favorite pastime in their home. On a chair at the right was
a young man with a violin, playing selections by an Icelandic composer.
Through the small windows rays of light representing the midnight sun
and the northern lights were thrown. Every detail of their home life was
carried out, even to the serving of coffee with lumps of sugar. Just
before the curtain fell, twenty young people, all of Icelandic descent,
joined in singing the national Icelandic song, which has the same tune as
“America.” The effect of the tableau was tremendous. It served as a force
in portraying the life of one of the many nationalities represented in
the state.

When “The Servant in the House” by Charles Rann Kennedy was presented, it
was doubtful in my mind whether a better Manson and Mary ever played the
parts. Both the persons who took the characters were country born. Their
interpretation was superb, their acting exceptional. In fact, all the
characters were well done. Three crowded houses greeted the play.

An alert and aggressive young man from one part of the state who
witnessed several productions in the theater one winter was instrumental
in staging a home talent play in the empty hayloft of a large barn during
the summer months. The stage was made of barn floor planks. The draw
curtain was an old, rain-washed binder cover. Ten barn lanterns hung on
a piece of fence wire furnished the border lights. Branches of trees
were used for a background on the stage. Planks resting on old boxes and
saw-horses were made into seats. A Victrola served as an orchestra. About
a hundred and fifty people were in attendance at the play. The folks
evidently liked the play, for they gave the proceeds to a baseball team.

[Illustration: SCENE—“Leonarda” _By Björnstjerne Björnson_]

Every fall harvest festivals are given in different sections of
the state, with the sole purpose of showing the splendid dramatic
possibilities in the field of agriculture. A feature in one given a few
years ago is deserving of special mention. Country people in North Dakota
raise wheat. The state is often called the bread basket of the world. A
disease called black rust often infests the crop and causes the loss of
many bushels. In order to depict the danger of this disease, a pantomime
called “The Quarrel Scene between Black Rust and Wheat” was worked out.
The character representing Wheat was taken by a beautiful fair-haired
girl dressed in yellow, with a miniature sheaf of grain tucked in her
belt. The costume worn by Black Rust was coal-colored cambric. The face
was made up to symbolize death. Wheat entered and, free from care, moved
gracefully around. Black Rust stealthily crept in, pursued and threatened
to destroy Wheat. Just about the time Wheat was ready to succumb, Science
came to the rescue and drove Black Rust away. Wheat triumphed. Several
thousand people saw this wonderful story unfolded in the various places
where it was presented. Everybody caught the significance of it at once.

Just the other day a farmer from Divide County who had planned a
consolidated schoolhouse came to the theater, in order to find out how to
install a stage “so the people in his community could enjoy themselves”
as he put it. Divide County is some three hundred miles from The Little
Country Theater.

One young man from the northwestern part of the state wrote me a letter
well worth reading. He said in part:

“Dear Sir:—I thought you might like to know how we came out on
the play ‘Back to the Farm,’ so I am writing to tell you of the
success we had.

“In the first place we had a director-general who didn’t
believe in doing things by halves. For nearly a month we
rehearsed three times a week. That means after the day’s work
was done we ate a hasty supper, hurried through the chores,
cranked up the Ford and ‘beat it’ to rehearsal. And when we did
give it we didn’t waste our efforts in a little schoolhouse
with a stage consisting of a carpet on the floor and a sheet
hung on a wire for the curtain. Nix! We had an outfit that any
theater in a fair sized town might well be proud of.

“Well, we had a full house and then some, they even came from
Minot fifty miles north of here and from other neighboring
towns. After it was over we got all kinds of press notices,
nice complimentary ones, too. Our fame even went as far as
Washburn and the County Supt. of Schools asked us to come down
and give it at the Teachers’ Institute, Nov. 4, to give the
teachers an idea what could be done in other communities y’see?
We didn’t go though, didn’t have any way to pay expenses as he
wanted to give it free. However, we went to Garrison, Ryder,
Parshall, Makoti and drew a full house every time except once
and that was due to insufficient advertising, only two days.
We collected enough money to buy chairs and other furnishings
for our new ‘Little Country Theater’ and also the salary of an
instructor to our orchestra we are just starting.

“Our stage is surely ‘great.’ The wings, interior set and arch
are made of beaver board, with frames of scantling, the frame
of the arch, however, is not scantling, but two by fours. It
is all made in such a manner that it can be knocked down and
packed away, when we wish to use the building for basketball or
other games. The back drop is the most beautiful landscape I
have ever seen, a real work of art.

“The front drop curtain is what made it possible for us to get
the entire outfit. It has the ad of nearly every business man
in Ryder and represents something like $240. The complete
stage cost us $200 so we still had some left over.

“The theater which is not yet completed is in the basement of
the new brick consolidated school. It will be steam heated and
later electric lighted, two dressing rooms back of the stage,
and well I guess that’s enough for a while. The auditorium will
be about 19 x 40 ft.

“Now I believe what we can do others can do as we are only an
ordinary community, our director was a college graduate with a
lot of pep and push, that’s all.

“Do you ever loan out any of your scenery? Another party who
has ‘caught the fever,’ is going to try the same stunt with
modifications. I am getting to be a sort of an unofficial agent
for your Extension Div. as people here are getting interested
in these ‘doin’s’ so don’t be surprised if you get a letter
from us now and then.

“Yours truly,

“A. R.”

When “The Little Red Mare,” a one-act farce was given, Hugh’s father
came down to see me and tell me that if there was anything needed in the
country it was more life and good entertainments for the young people. He
was a very interesting character and a bit philosophical. When I told
him about the mistakes made in the work, he pulled out a lead pencil,
placed it between his fat thumb and finger and looking straight at me
said, “if it wasn’t for mistakes we’d never have rubbers on the ends
of our pencils.” His son, Hugh, who took the character of the old deaf
fellow in the play, did a superb piece of acting.

Over in the village of Amenia they have a country theater. It is located
on the second floor up over a country store, and has a seating capacity
of about one hundred and seventy-five people. The stage is medium size.
The curtain is a green draw curtain. The lighting system is unique,
containing border lights, foot lights, house lights, and a dimmer. The
plays selected and produced are only the best. One villager said he never
thought plays would change the spirit of the community so much.

[Illustration: SCENE—“The Servant in the House” _By Charles Rann
Kennedy_]

Up near Kensal, North Dakota, about four miles out from the town, the
McKinley Farmers’ Club have a place modeled in some ways after The Little
Country Theater. The country people formed a hall association, sold
stock to the extent of three thousand dollars, donated their labor, and
put up the building. The site was given by a country merchant. It is
a typical rural center, consisting of auditorium, stage, rest rooms,
dining room, and kitchen. An excellent description of its activities is
contained in a letter from one of its members dated April 17, 1918, which
I shall quote in part:

“The club year, just closed has been satisfactory in all
events. From a social standpoint, this community through the
efforts of the McKinley Club has enjoyed the fellowship of
their neighbors and friends in a manner that is foreign to most
rural communities.

“The officials of the past year have injected literary work
into its meetings or rather at the close of the club meeting.
Meetings are held on the second and fourth Saturday evenings
of each month. The men of the club meet in the auditorium and
transact regular business while the Ladies’ Aid of the Club
meet in the dining rooms. At the close of the business session
all congregate in the auditorium where a program made up of
songs, recitations, readings, essays, debates, dialogues,
monologues, the club journal, four minute speeches, etc., is
given. With the program or literary over, all retire to the
dining rooms, where the ladies have a lunch arranged which
is always looked forward to. Home talent plays and public
speakers are from time to time in order and always enjoyed. A
five piece orchestra composed from amongst the membership play
for dances, at plays, etc. The dramatic talent of the club has
just played ‘A Noble Outcast’ and despite a rainy evening the
proceeds counted up to $93.00. The proceeds were used to pay
for the inclosing of the stage and stage scenery. They will put
this on again, the proceeds to go to buy tobacco for the boys
‘Over There.’ Last June the club members and their families in
autos made a booster trip boosting the play ‘Back to the Farm,’
presented by The Little Country Theater Players. They canvassed
ten towns in a single day, driving one hundred and twenty
miles. The result was that when the ticket force checked up
$225.00 had been realized. The club celebrates its anniversary
in June of each year.

“The Ladies’ Aid of the club have been a great help and their
presence always appreciated. To date they have paid for out of
their funds, and installed in the club hall, a lighting system
that is ornamental and is of the best, a piano, kitchen range,
and a full set of dishes with the club monogram in gold letters
inscribed on each piece.

“The stage is enclosed and scenery in place so that the
dramatic talent of the community have an ideal place for work.

“I have in a hurried manner given you some of our doings in
general.

“Respectfully,

“J. S. J.”

I shall never forget the night referred to in the above letter when “Back
to the Farm” was given in the hall. Automobiles loaded with people came
from miles around. The hall was packed. Children were seated on the floor
close up to the stage. Fifty persons occupied a long impromptu plank
bench in the center aisle, with their bodies facing one way and their
heads looking toward the stage. They stood on chairs in the vestibule at
the back. The windows were full of people. Three men paid fifty cents
each to stand on a ladder and watch the play through the window near the
stage. It was as enthusiastic and appreciative a crowd as ever witnessed
a play. They still talk about it, too.

One of the most artistic pieces of work ever done in the Theater was the
part of “Babbie” in Barrie’s play “The Little Minister.” The charming
young lady who took the character seemed, as the folks say, “to be born
for it.” “Little Women” a dramatization of Louisa Alcott’s book was also
cleverly acted.

A group of twenty young men and women from fifteen different communities
dramatized “The Grand Prairie Community School Building” project in
five scenes. The first scene told the story of the organization of the
Grand Prairie Farmers’ Club in the old one-room country school, and
the endorsement of the new structure. The second showed the plans and
specifications of the proposed building, by means of an illustrated
lecture given in the old town hall. In the third and fourth parts
the basement with the installation of the lighting system and the
preparation of the lunch in the kitchen for the visitors were portrayed.
The last scene displayed the auditorium and stage in the community
school building complete, together with the dedication ceremonies. The
scenery, properties, curtains, and lighting effects were arranged by
these young men and women. The two hundred people who saw this dramatic
demonstration will never forget the effect it had upon them. It proved
that any community which is farsighted enough can with imagination and
organization erect a similar structure or remodel a village hall so the
people can have a place to express themselves. The essentials are an
assembly room and a stage, that’s all.

[Illustration: SCENE—“Back to the Farm” _By Mereline Shumway_]

Three outdoor spectacles, “The Pastimes of the Ages,” “The Enchantment
of Spring,” and “The Master Builder” revealed the infinite possibilities
of the drama in picturing “tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
sermons in stones, and good in everything.” All of these pageants and
many more aim to teach the people who live in God’s gardens to appreciate
their surroundings. “The Pastimes of the Ages,” as well as the other two
outdoor plays, was presented on a flat prairie, a parade ground about
three or four hundred feet from The Little Country Theater. Over fifteen
thousand people saw the spectacle and twelve hundred people took part
in it. The scene was a most impressive one. At one end of the natural
outdoor amphitheater the silent sphinx and three pyramids rose in all
their Oriental grandeur. At the other stood a temple of glittering gold,
in which the Spirit of Mirth reigned supreme. The play opened with Mirth
running out of the temple singing and dancing. In the distance she saw a
caravan approaching the pyramids. She beckoned them to come forward. The
grand procession followed. On entering the temple the sojourners were
greeted by flower maidens. Mirth then bade the caravan to be seated on
the steps of marble and witness some of “The Pastimes of the Ages.” The
Greek games were played. An Egyptian ballet was danced. Forty maidens
clad in robes of purple with hands stretched heavenward chanted a prayer.
Two hundred uniformed Arabs drilled. The chimes rang. Mirth gestured for
all to rise and sing. The bands _en masse_ struck the notes of that song
immortal, written by Francis Scott Key. The caravan, having seen all the
pastimes in which men and women have indulged in ages gone by, journeyed
back to the place from whence it came. And the story of the most gorgeous
spectacle ever seen, on the Dacotah prairie ended.

“The Enchantment of Spring” was a pageant in two episodes, with its
theme taken from the field of agriculture. The setting was The Temple
of Ceres. The Herald of Spring came to the temple with Neptune the God
of Water, Mother Earth, Growth, Apollo the God of the Sun, Persephone
emblematical of the vegetable world, Demeter the Goddess of Grains, Flora
the Goddess of Flowers, and Pomona the Goddess of Fruits, to announce the
approach of Spring. The trumpeters signaled the coming of the east and
west and north and south winds. They met, they quarreled and Fate drove
the north wind away. The three winds then counseled with Neptune, Apollo,
and Mother Earth, companions of Growth, as to her whereabouts. They
finally discovered Growth at work and bade her to go to the temple. The
welcome and the rejoicing followed. At the entry of Spring, the flowers
awoke. Ceres called to Spring to come to the steps of the temple. The
Crowning of Spring ended the pageant. When it was produced, it opened up
the vision of many people as to the latent possibilities of the drama in
the vocation of agriculture.

[Illustration: FESTIVAL—“The Pastimes of the Ages.” _By Alfred Arnold_.
Parade Grounds, North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo, North Dakota]

Just recently “The Master Builder” was presented. The scene of the story
was laid in the Great Outdoors. The play centers about a man who builds,
a mechanic called the Master Builder. In his dream a vision comes to
him, a picture of a beautiful temple that he has longed for years to
construct. Around him and about him the dream children dance. They are
the messengers that tell him that the workmen are coming. Before him
in a procession, passes Ahura Mazda and the Sun Worshipers, Vulcanus
and the torch-bearers, Atlas and his men of power, the Great Architect
and his associates, Praxiteles and the stone-cutters, Tubal Cain and
the blacksmiths, Joseph and the carpenters, and Michael Angelo and the
painters. After he consults with the architects and approves the plans,
they sing and rejoice. Nature’s forces—light, power, and fire—combine
to help him realize his dream. Even the flames, often the elements
of destruction, turn their energies into power to help him. Finally,
Praxiteles and the stone-cutters begin the temple, and Joseph and the
carpenters, Tubal Cain and the blacksmiths, Michael Angelo and the
painters complete it. The Anvil Chorus plays, Enlightenment awakens the
Master Builder from his dream, and Achievement shows him that his vision
has been realized. The beautiful temple stands before him.

All three of these spectacles show untold dramas in fields of thought yet
untouched. They were mediums through which the ideals, the traditions,
and the beauties of nature and human nature could be expressed.

The great mass of people in the state love good plays. Just like most
folks, they want something with a homely story mixed with a few bits
of comedy. Ninety out of a hundred persons are usually human, anyway.
“David Harum,” a three-act comedy by Eugene Noyes Westcott, seemed to hit
the right spot with hundreds of the Dacotah folks. Personally, I do not
believe a finer piece of non-professional acting has ever been done in
America than that of the young man who took the part of David Harum. His
phenomenal success in the character is all due to the fact that he lived
the part every time he acted it. Naturally, he had strong support in the
presentation of the play.

One incident in regard to the place of its production I shall never
forget. During the past twenty-five years it has been my good fortune
to see plays and programs presented in village halls, schoolhouses,
churches, homes, country stores, gymnasiums, auditoriums, theaters,
hotels, barns, parks, groves, streets, and other places. But I have never
had the good fortune to see a baseball diamond used for a theater, and
on the Fourth of July, with a play like “David Harum.” It all happened
down at Lisbon. The second baseball game had just finished. It was about
six-thirty in the evening. A frame of two-by-four scantling was erected
and braced like a city billboard. The center of the frame was exactly
nine feet from the home plate. On it fourteen foot green draperies were
hung. A large soiled canvas was laid on the worn ground for the stage.
Three electric bulbs with a few batteries and two good sized automobiles
furnished all the light necessary for the production. The baseball pits,
where the players stay before they are called upon to bat, were used as
dressing rooms. The crowd began to assemble at half past seven, and at
eight o’clock the bleachers were brimful. The overflow crowd was seated
on planks close up to the stage. For two solid hours and on the Fourth
of July, mind you, several hundred people sat, watched, and listened to
David Harum. Not a soul left. The interest manifested by the audience
was tense at all times. It was one of the most unique instances ever
experienced by the writer.

[Illustration: SCENE—Sitting Bull-Custer. _By Aaron McGaffey Beede_]

An Indian drama called, “Sitting Bull-Custer,” written by an Episcopal
priest, now a judge in Sioux County, told the story of the Redman’s
version of the Custer Massacre. It was presented on a Dacotah prairie
at sunset, seven years ago. The scene represented an Indian village on
the Little Big Horn River. It was dawn, June twenty-fifth, eighteen
hundred and seventy six. A thick clump of trees, in which the Indian
characters, Echonka, Gall, Rain-in-the-Face, Old-man, Old-woman,
and Old-Woman-Diviner were hidden, furnished the background. There,
secluded as spies, they anxiously awaited the arrival of Sitting Bull,
believing that he would unfold valuable secrets in regard to the coming
battle. Fool-mink, an Indian story teller and singer, the comedian of
the play, was everywhere present. He sang and he danced. His music
irritated Rain-in-the-Face, because it reminded him of the time Tom
Custer handcuffed him. In several sharp encounters which ensued between
Fool-Mink and Rain-in-the-Face, Gall acted as the peace-maker. Silence
reigned. Sitting Bull arrived. He looked at the dawn wistfully, started
a fire, and sat down beside it. He spoke with rapid tongue. He told the
story of the Redman, the most misunderstood creature on earth. He gave
the reason why his race feared the white man—he wanted to be left alone
and have food to eat. He foretold the battle. Suddenly his body became as
rigid as a statue. Mid pauses, he spoke in a far-away ghostly voice.

“Great Custer speaks. I hear him say,
Brave action crushes calumny.
No lies can crush a glittering fact,
If man, ignoring self, will act.
I’m not a man without a flaw,
What man has not his foibles? Pshaw!
Courtmartial me! For what? To blight
My name! I swear, by yonder light
Of morning, I’ve no serious wrong!
The truth will flame abroad ere long.
Their teeth shall bite the dust to-day,
A soldier’s grave can sing a lay
Of praise, while foibles dare not peep,
And those who twisted foibles sleep
Forgotten. They suppose I shrink
From death as they do. As they think
They judge me. Open your sweet jaws,
Brave death, and swallowing petty flaws,
Make Custer’s rightful honor bright
And clean, as youthful morning light!
To die! To die gives them the shame,
And me, I ask no word of fame,
Save this,—that ere I slept in dust.
He pauses, waves his lifted hand,
He’s beckoning toward the spirit land.”

In this reverie he pictured Custer as the idol of the Redman. The arrival
of the herald from the enemy’s camp awakened him from his stupor. A
council of war was hastily called. It was noon and after. The battle was
on. The smoke rose in every direction. Soldiers and warriors appeared and
disappeared. Echonka was seen. His gun failed to discharge. A bullet laid
him low. Winona, Echonka’s lover, came running, looked at him with an
agonized face, lifted her hands toward heaven, and shrieked. She knelt at
his side and cried as if her heart would break. The fatal day soon ended.
It was after sunset. Sitting Bull in searching among the dead found the
body of Custer. The wailing for the dead could just be heard. He uttered
a soliloquy, covered Custer’s face with a silk handkerchief, lifted his
own face and hands in prayer, and was silent. The play ended.

The effect upon the three thousand persons who witnessed the Indian play
was excellent.

Religious dramas, sometimes in prose and poetry and often in tableau
and pantomime, are given. “The Evergreen Tree,” “The Nazarene in Song
and Story,” and “The Man of Galilee” were especially well presented.
Every year a series of one-act plays is produced for the sole purpose of
training young men and women to be able to stage dramas in the districts
where they expect to live. Programs containing features characteristic of
the activities of a community are frequently given.

A great many original plays have been written and presented to large
crowds. “The Prairie Wolf,” “Bridging the Chasm,” “Every Ship Will Find
a Harbor,” “The New Country Woman,” “The Country Side,” not to mention
dozens of others, are productions which have come out of the country
people themselves. The place was crowded at the presentation of every
one of these plays. Over eighty per cent of the audiences were country
people, who had come to see dramas of their own creation, plays that had
come out of the soil. “The Prairie Wolf” was written by a young man who
was interested in horses and cattle. It pictured in a most vivid manner
the financial troubles of a great many farmers. The central thought
in “Bridging the Chasm” brought out the gap between city and country.
A city girl and a country boy had fallen in love with each other. The
city prejudice against country people made her hesitate before she said
yes. “Every Ship Will Find a Harbor” was worked out by a country lad who
was very fond of machinery and electricity. The action of the play took
place in a country store, in the woods near the Langer farm, and in the
sitting room of a farm home. The play told the story of a lazy country
boy who decided to leave the farm and go west in search of adventure,
and to study about machinery with the aid of a correspondence course. He
didn’t like school. After being in the employ of a western power company
for a few years, he returned home. His arm was broken. While at home he
became interested in the community where he was born. In order to help
his people enjoy life he showed them how to harness nature’s power, so
that the drudgery of the farm might be done by machinery instead of man
power. The crowd which witnessed this play was a very responsive one.
“The New Country Woman,” written by a girl of French descent, brought
out the leadership of woman in improving the social conditions in the
country. There were ten characters in the play. The action took place in
three scenes. The existing rural conditions in the state were splendidly
portrayed in “The Country Side.” It was exceptionally well written, the
thought and the English well nigh perfect.

[Illustration: SCENE—“American Beauties”—A One-Act Play _by A. Seaman_]

Whenever possible, the young people who are competent are broken in as
directors on the original plays as well as on the others. This is done to
give them the experience, so that they can help when called upon in their
communities to assist. It also develops leadership. In other words, The
Little Country Theater is not only a laboratory to try out different
kinds of plays and entertainments for country folks, but also a place to
train country-life workers.

One could go on indefinitely with hundreds of incidents which show the
magnitude of the work of this particular country-life laboratory in the
Northwest.

A BEE IN A DRONE’S HIVE

Just a few years past a young man from near Edmunds, North Dakota, came
to see me. He said he wanted to try a hand at writing a play. When asked
what was the most interesting thing in his life at that particular time,
he told me about two people who had lived on the farm the greater share
of their lives. One wanted to retire and the other to remain. I asked him
how he stood on the subject and he said if he were to make a decision he
would stay on the farm. “Good,” said I, “there’s the theme for your play,
country life versus city life. Lay the scene of the first act in the city
and have the farmer retired, showing that all the advantages of real life
are not found in the city. Place the second act out in the country and
demonstrate the social possibilities of life on the farm.”

Nothing more was said. He left the office. In about three or four weeks
he returned with a copy of a play. It was written in lead pencil on
an old-fashioned yellow tablet. I asked him what the name of the play
was, and he said he had called it “A Bee in a Drone’s Hive.” At first I
objected to the title, but after questioning him found that the reason he
called the play, “A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” was that he thought that a man
who really understood the country should never move to the city; that he
was just as much out of place in the city as a bee was in a drone’s hive.

At first thought, I intended to go over the play with him and correct
it and make a suggestion here and there. Then another idea struck me.
What if this young man were out in the country, would it be possible
for him to have anybody go over a play he had written there? Just about
that time I made a trip east and read the play to several audiences. It
met with a hearty reception wherever read. After a talk with a great
many playwrights, authors, and men of affairs, I came to the inevitable
conclusion that the best thing to do was to bring the play back and let
the author stage it just as he had written it. This was done. Within
several weeks the play was presented in the theater.

A full house greeted the performance. Men and women from all over the
state were present to witness the production. Everybody said it was the
best thing they had ever seen. Rural workers in the audience claimed it
was one of the finest arguments in favor of country life that they had
ever heard. The author took the part of Hiram Johnson, the philosopher.
His make-up was remarkable. He did it himself. After the play several
persons suggested that the thing for him to do was to go away and take
some courses in writing plays. This did not appeal to him, as he loved
the farm and wanted to return to it. What he really found out was that he
could express himself.

To-day he operates nearly four hundred acres of land. He has forty head
of cattle, eight of which are registered short-horns. He is a successful
farmer in every respect. During his spare moments he takes part in home
talent plays. He loves the drama. He is married and has a family.

“A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” is the product from the mind of a farmer who
actually farms and lives on the farm. Following is the play in full form
just as he wrote it and as it was produced.

[Illustration: SCENE—“A Bee in a Drone’s Hive” _By Cecil Baker_]

ACT I.

_Scene_: _Benson’s home in the city. Room lavishly furnished. Ethel at
desk writing, Mr. Benson sitting in easy chair reading, and Mrs. Benson
darning socks._

MRS. BENSON

Ethel, who are you writing to?

ETHEL

Oh, I was just dropping a line to brother Harry. Thought he would be glad
to know how we were getting along in the city by now. You know I promised
him I would write often and let him know how you and father took to city
life. He said you would never like it here after the novelty of it wore
off.

MRS. BENSON

Tell him I would write some, too, only I’m such a poor writer and it
hasn’t been long since I did write. You know people like to get letters
often, so if you write now, and then me after while, he may like it
better. I want to read what you have written when you get through.

ETHEL

Sorry, mother, but I can’t let you read this one—at least all of it. You
know brother and I always did confide in each other. I’ve often thought
how much better we understand each other than most brothers and sisters,
and how much more pleasant it is. I always feel sorry for girls who have
no brothers and for boys who have no sisters.

MR. BENSON

You say you’re writin’ to Harry, Ethel? By jinks, I’d like to know how
he is getting along on the old homestead. S’pose he’s got his grain most
cleaned by now, and just waitin’ till it thaws out so he can get into the
fields. I’d sure like to see that car load of yearlin’s he says he just
bought. Bet that bunch he’s finishin’ for the June market is fine by now;
you know he wrote last spring that they were lookin’ mighty promisin’ and
he takes such pride in them, too.

MRS. BENSON

Harry does think a lot of the stock and that dear little wife he got
takes such an interest in things, too, and she’s so encouraging. Did you
notice the way she pulled him out of the blues once when they were first
married? He always goes to her for advice in everything he does.

MR. BENSON

Yes, and by Jinks, her advice is worth somethin’ too. Harry always says
that’s just the way he looks at it, but thought he’d ask her first. You
know as how I used to always be against those agricultural colleges and
never had much faith in ’em. Well, that pair has completely converted me.
Harry never did like stock till he went away to school. As soon as he got
back he began talkin’ as how we could improve ours, and as how many we
ought to have more for the size of our farm. By jinks, I’ve got to slip
out there fore long and see those cattle.

_Ethel rises with two letters in hand and rings for the butler._

MRS. BENSON

Looks as though you were confiding in someone else, too.

ETHEL

Oh no, just a letter to Mabel.

MR. BENSON

_Rising._

Ethel, if you don’t care I’ll take your letters to the box. I’ve simply
got to get more fresh air. I’ve begun to feel like a house plant what’s
bin sittin’ in the bay window all winter. When the hired man comes, tell
him to fix up the fire.

ETHEL

All right, father. Be sure you put the letters in a mail box and not in
the police telephone box like you did once. (_Exit Mr. Benson._) Mother,
father makes me think of a bee in a drone’s hive; he’s just dying for
something to do and there isn’t a thing around here to do that would
satisfy him. He’s just aching to be out among the stock on the farm. I
really feel sorry for him, but I guess there isn’t any way to better
things; he’s not able to run the farm any longer.

MRS. BENSON

No, he isn’t and I wouldn’t think of movin’ in with Harry and Jennie,
even though they wouldn’t object. It breaks up the home spirit so to
have two families in one home. I’ve never let on to your pa, but I don’t
like the city life half as well as I thought I would, and I really never
thought of what a handicap it would be to you.

ETHEL

Oh, don’t you care about me. I have a good home here as long as you live
and I don’t know of a place where I’m needed as bad as I am right here
looking after you and father. I consider it my calling.

MRS. BENSON

I don’t see how we would get along here without you, but it’s not fair,
and you don’t owe it. I was just thinking the other day about Clarence.
He must be about through college by now. There wasn’t a better fellow
livin’ than Clarence and he seemed to think so much of you. How’s come
you and him don’t write any more? You used to.

ETHEL

Yes, we did write till three years ago, when he failed to answer my
letter and I never wrote again.

MRS. BENSON

Maybe he didn’t get your letter.

ETHEL

I heard through a friend that he did. I thought that if he didn’t want
to write, that was his own business. I suppose he found another girl.
But mother, it’s hard to forget—I didn’t know I did care so much. But—oh
well, it’s too late now. I’m going to stay by you and father, so I should
worry.

(_Walks across room to desk._)

MRS. BENSON

_Speaking to self._

I wish we had never come to the city. Poor girl.

ETHEL

Mother, I’ve something amusing to tell you. What do you think, Mr. Smith,
who called to see me last night, asked me to marry him.

MRS. BENSON

What!

ETHEL

Wouldn’t that make you laugh?

MRS. BENSON

Why, you haven’t known him more than a month and a half, have you?

ETHEL

No, and I’ve only seen him a few times at that.

MRS. BENSON

That beats anything I ever heard of. Is the fellow in his right mind?

ETHEL

Oh, I guess he’s sane enough—but he’s so used to having his money get
what he wants, that I suppose he thought it would buy me, too.

MRS. BENSON

How much money has he got?

ETHEL

I don’t know, but from the way he talks he must have quite a bit.

MRS. BENSON

Well, he had better trade some of it for a little common sense.

ETHEL

By the way, mother, is this Thursday or Friday? You know we’ve invited
the Asterbilts for dinner Friday, and you know—

MRS. BENSON

_Interrupting._

That’s what’s the matter, and this is Friday and it’s six-thirty now.
They ought to have been here three-quarters of an hour ago—mighty good
thing they’re late.

ETHEL

I wonder if the maid has forgotten, too.

MRS. BENSON

My goodness, what if she has forgotten! You be straightening the
room—I’ll go and see her.

_Exit Mrs. Benson. Enter butler._

WALTER

Sorry, I’m so long, Miss Ethel.

ETHEL

You don’t look so very long to me. Fix the fire and see that everything
is ready for company, the Asterbilts are coming.

WALTER

The Asterbilts! You having those swell bugs here! You had better order a
butler and have him delivered at once.

_Exit Walter._

ETHEL

This is an awful state of affairs. Here the swellest people in town are
coming and we’re not ready. I didn’t much want to have them, but mother
insisted. She said it was time I ought to be getting acquainted with some
of the good people of the city. I’m not very ambitious, if they’re all
like Mr. Smith. Some idea he’s got of what love is; and father makes so
many mistakes. He simply can’t learn the city ways and this is the first
time we’ve invited in any society people. Well, it’s too late now to talk
about it—we’d might as—

_Enter Mr. Benson._

MR. BENSON

Mailed your letters, Ethel. Why, what’s up, girl—be ye cleanin’ house so
soon? Don’t think you’ll last if you go over this house at that pace.

ETHEL

We invited the Asterbilts for supper and we’d forgotten all about it
till it was past the time they were supposed to be here. They’re almost
an hour late now. This is enough to give one nervous prostration. Maybe
they’re not coming, though.

MR. BENSON

By jinks, I hope they’ll come. I was just wonderin’ the other day why we
couldn’t have in some of our neighbors and get acquainted a little. Why,
we don’t even know the people across the street from us. Out on the farm
we knew people from six to twelve miles around.

_Enter Mrs. Benson._

MRS. BENSON

The maid says everything is ready. Wonder why they don’t come or phone
us. I wish they wouldn’t come, now. Why, what will they think of us in
these clothes?

_Enter Walter. Hands Mrs. Benson a card._

MRS. BENSON

_Reading._

They’re here, show them up, Walter.

WALTER

I’m afraid I’m a poor butler.

_Exit._

MR. BENSON

I don’t see what there is to worry about—your clothes are clean and neat.
What more can they expect? By jinks, I don’t let a little thing like that
worry me.

_Enter Mr. and Mrs. Asterbilt, preceded by butler._

MRS. BENSON

_Shaking hands with Mrs. Asterbilt who holds hand high for fashionable
hand shake._

How do you do, Mrs. Asterbilt.

MRS. ASTERBILT

Good evening.

MRS. BENSON

I hope you’ll excuse—

MRS. ASTERBILT

_Interrupting._

Mrs. Benson, my husband.

MR. ASTERBILT

Mrs. Benson, it gives me very great pleasure to make your acquaintance.

MRS. ASTERBILT

And I suppose this is your daughter.

_Shakes hands with her._

MR. BENSON

Yes, that’s her.

MRS. ASTERBILT

You’re a very charming young lady.

MR. ASTERBILT

_Shaking hands with Ethel._

Indeed you’re very charming, Miss Benson.

MRS. BENSON

This is my husband, Mrs. Asterbilt.

MR. BENSON

_Makes a couple of attempts to shake hands with Mrs. Asterbilt and at
last finding her hand, which is held high, pulls it down and gives real
handshake._

I’m so glad ter know you, Mrs. Asterbilt. (_Shakes with Mr. Asterbilt._)
How do ye do, Mr. Asterbilt. By jinks, I’m glad you folks come this
evenin’. I was just tellin’ Ethel as how we didn’t know our next door
neighbor here in town. Do ye know, Mr. Asterbilt, I don’t think the town
folks are near as sociable as us country folks. Won’t ye take your wraps
off and stay a while?

MRS. ASTERBILT

_Removing wraps, hands them to Walter, who wads them all up in his arms
and drops Asterbilt’s hat._

I’m so sorry we were unable to get here for dinner or to let you know. We
fully intended to get here, but we went out auto riding in the country
and were detained by a breakdown. When we arrived home and saw we were
so late, we took our dinner at the cafe before coming. I hope our delay
hasn’t put you to any great anxiety. Since we couldn’t get here for
dinner, we thought we would call for a while, rather than disappoint you
completely.

_Exit butler with wraps._

MRS. BENSON

We’re very glad you did, won’t you be seated?

MR. BENSON

Indeed we’re glad you have come. Anyone is welcome at our house any time.
Don’t you know people aren’t so sociable as they uster be. Why, when I
was a boy we either called on some of our neighbors, or they called on us
every night of the week during the winter months. I’ve been noticin’ as
how the town folks don’t call at all unless they’re invited. By jinks,
come to think about it, you folks are the first to come since we’ve been
here, exceptin’ one of our neighbors from the farm.

_Begins slowly to remove shoes._

MR. ASTERBILT

By the way, Mr. Benson, what is your opinion of the commission form of
government this city is going to submit to the voters next election? You
know some of the cities have already adopted it and it is promising to
become quite popular.

MR. BENSON

Can’t say as I know much about it. If it’s anything like the commission
the grain and stock buyers get, I don’t think much of it. You see lots of
those fellers getting rich while many of the farmers who haul their grain
in to them are just barely holdin’ their own. So they’re wantin’ to make
a big thing outen the city people, too, are they?

MR. ASTERBILT

You have the wrong impression, Mr. Benson. This commission form of
government consists of several committees of three men each and each
committee has some special phase of city work to look after, such as
streets, parks, public health, etc.

ETHEL

Father, you’ll have to be reading up a little, so you’ll know which way
to vote at the election.

MR. BENSON

_Rubbing his feet._

Guess you’re right, Ethel.

MRS. ASTERBILT

Miss Benson, I don’t think I have seen you at any of the balls this
winter—it must be that you haven’t been introduced yet, for young ladies
are in quite a demand. I believe you would be a very graceful dancer.

ETHEL

I’ve been to a few social gatherings given by the young ladies’ society
of our church—we’ve had some real nice times.

MRS. ASTERBILT

Those will do for some people, I suppose, but you’re charming enough to
get into real society. I can give you the name of a fine dancing school
where you can learn to dance in a very short time. They guarantee to get
their pupils into society as soon as they have completed.

MR. BENSON

_Has been rubbing his feet, now places them on the back of a chair._

These pavements just tear my feet to pieces every time I go for a walk.
The cities talk about their improvements, why don’t they cover their
walks with rubber so as to save one’s feet? I’d lots rather have an old
cow path to walk on.

ETHEL

_Leaving room._

Father, may I see you for a moment?

_Exit._

MR. BENSON

I’ll be back in a moment, just go right on visitin’.

_Exit._

MRS. ASTERBILT

Do you folks like the city life better than the country life?

MRS. BENSON

I can’t say as we do—we miss our neighbors so.

MRS. ASTERBILT

You should get into society. We have some very cultured people in this
city, with high social standings. Your daughter is good looking enough to
marry a rich young man. You should give a ball in her honor.

_Enter Hiram Johnson. He looks around the room much awed by its splendor._

MRS. BENSON

_Rises to meet him._

Why, hello, Hiram.

HIRAM

How do you do, Mary? Golly, but you have a swell home! A feller told me
this was where you lived so I walked right in without knocking. This is a
swell room—don’t you sorter feel like a snake in a bird’s nest?

MRS. BENSON

How did you happen to come here?

HIRAM

I was just takin’ a little vacation to see the sights. Many of our
learned men get much of their education just traveling.

MRS. BENSON

Meet our company, Hiram. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Asterbilt.

HIRAM

_Shaking hands in a friendly way._

I’m glad to know any one whose friends to John and Mary. I knowed _they_
would soon get acquainted when they came here, for they’re so neighborly.

_Enter Mr. Benson with house slippers on._

MR. BENSON

By jinks, if it ain’t Hiram.

_Exit Mrs. Benson._

HIRAM

_Crossing to Benson._

Golly, John, you look like a house plant. I see right now that you’ll
have to get more sunshine, or this here city life will get the best of
you. How do you like the city life, anyway? Gee! but such a room!

MR. BENSON

The house is all right, but the life is pretty doggone dull.

HIRAM

Just what I told your son, Harry. The conveniences are all right, but
you’re just as much out of place as a pump handle on an ice house.

MR. BENSON

I suppose it is the only life for those that is brought up that way.

HIRAM

Sure, but it’s just as hard for a farmer to get used to city ways as it
is for a fish to get used to living on land.

_Enter Mrs. Benson._

MRS. ASTERBILT

Mrs. Benson, I think we had better be going.

MRS. BENSON

Oh, you musn’t go so soon—I have ordered a light lunch.

MRS. ASTERBILT

But we ought to be going, and then you’ll want to be visiting with your
neighbor.

HIRAM

Don’t let me be causing you to leave, the more the merrier. I wouldn’t
advise you to leave until after the lunch Mrs. Benson has prepared. She’s
the finest cook round, they always calls on her to make the biscuits for
the ladies’ aid doin’s at the church and picnics in the summer time. I’d
advise you to stay.

MR. ASTERBILT

Mr. Johnson, I suppose you are taking a little vacation to get away from
the monotony of the farm. It must be an awful dull place to spend one’s
life in.

HIRAM

By golly, you couldn’t pull me away from the farm with a train of
cars. Why what have you got in the city that’s pleasant? Ye haven’t
got anything but crowded streets and houses. Everything ye have is
artificial. Why you talk about the monotony, I’d like to know where ye
get any more than in the city. Why, everything in the city is always the
same. Ye never have any change unless some one starts a fire to get some
insurance and burns half the town down. Out in the country everything
grows up new every spring and we have the pleasure of seem’ nature at its
great work. What’s more pleasant than sowin’ a little seed and watchin’
hit go through all the stages till it gets to be a big plant? Why, look
at these flowers—I bet John paid no less than a dollar a head for ’em.
Out on the farm they will grow right in your own door yard. Ain’t that
right, John?

MR. ASTERBILT

That may be true, but what about your long winter?

HIRAM

Why, what can be more beautiful than to see nature asleep and covered
with a blanket of snow? Why, it makes ye have a feelin’ ye can’t explain.
And, golly, the feelin’ ye have when the sun begins removin’ the blanket
and all nature begins to wake up again. It makes ye feel like ye’d been
asleep with it and was wakin’ up with it and fresh for work. There’s
nothin’ like it. Ain’t that right, John?

_A maid enters carrying a tray full of large meat sandwiches._

MAID

Har your sanvitches bane vot yu vanted.

MRS. BENSON

_Taking tray and offering them to Mrs. Asterbilt._

Won’t you have one?

MRS. ASTERBILT

No, thanks. Really, Mrs. Benson, we must be going. We have had a very
delightful time. Will you ring for our cloaks?

MRS. BENSON

_Placing biscuits on table._

I’m sorry you people have to leave so soon.

_Rings for Walter._

MRS. ASTERBILT

I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you, Mrs. Benson, by our not being here
for dinner.

MRS. BENSON

Oh no, not at all. We were only going to have some sausage and sour
kraut. They’re not as good as what we make on the farm, but I thought
perhaps you’d like that better than anything.

_Enter Walter. Hiram takes a biscuit from tray and begins eating._

MRS. BENSON

Bring their wraps, Walter.

HIRAM

Mary, you sure haven’t forgot how to make those biscuits you used to make.

MRS. BENSON

But, Hiram, I didn’t make them. We have a maid to do the work here.

MR. BENSON

Yes, and by jinks, we haven’t had a good meal since.

HIRAM

By golly, that’s right, there isn’t anything like home cookin’. Ye
ought ter be back on the farm where ye can have eggs and bakin’ powder
biscuits and honey for breakfast—a nice young fried rooster for dinner
with good old white gravy, mashed potatoes, dressin’ and dumplin’s.

MR. ASTERBILT

Mr. Benson, here is my card. I’m running for commissioner of city
improvement. Hope I may have your vote at the election.

MR. BENSON

If you are a Republican, you can count on it.

MR. ASTERBILT

_Smiling._

Politically, I am.

_Enter butler with wraps._

MRS. BENSON

_Taking wraps and dismissing butler. Hands wraps to guests._

Now that you’ve made a start, I hope you will come often.

MR. BENSON

Sure, drop in often, and don’t wait for to be asked; ye’re welcome any
time.

MRS. ASTERBILT

Thank you very much. (_To husband_) Are you ready? (_Bowing to Mr. and
Mrs. Benson._) Good evening.

_Exeunt Mrs. Asterbilt and Mrs. Benson._

MR. ASTERBILT

_Shaking hands with Mr. Benson._

Good night, Mr. Benson.

MR. BENSON

Good night.

MR. ASTERBILT

Good night, Mr. Johnson. I’m glad I met you.

HIRAM

Same to you. Meetin’ a new friend gives me as much joy as findin’ a
dollar bill in my pocket that I didn’t know I had there. If ye ever get
out my way drop in and see me.

_Exeunt Mr. Asterbilt and Mr. Benson._

_Enter Ethel._

ETHEL

Well, if it isn’t Hiram! What possessed you to come to the city?

HIRAM

Just travelin’ round a little.

ETHEL

I didn’t suppose you traveled very much.

HIRAM

We didn’t use to, but now we take a trip most every year back to old
Ohio. Back to the old neighborhood where we were born and married. So
ye haven’t got married yet, have ye? Most birds finds a mate when they
get full feathered. Looks like you’d be catchin’ some of these rich city
fellers. They could line yer nest with feathers.

ETHEL

Oh yes, no doubt they could. How did you leave everybody at home?

HIRAM

Just like a rose in July. Saw your brother Harry the day before I left.
He sent a letter down for you. Said ter be sure and give it ter you and
not let the folks see it.

ETHEL

_Opens letter and reads to self—then to Hiram._

Oh, Hiram, listen to this.

_Enter Mr. and Mrs. Benson unobserved—stop and listen as Ethel reads.
Ethel reading._

I take it from your last letter, that the folks are out of place in
the city and discontented. I’m not surprised—in fact I looked for you
to write and tell me before, but I suppose you thought I couldn’t do
anything. But listen, I can and I am. I have it all planned. Just across
the road on the south quarter there is a piece of a building spot. I was
talking with the carpenters yesterday and they said they would be able to
start building the house next week. I have let them suffer as long as I
can. Out here they won’t have anything to do but to look after themselves
and enjoy life where they know how.

MR. BENSON

By jingo and jumpin’ John Rogers, I’m goin’ to-morrow.

_Curtain._

ACT II

_Scene_: _Picnic grounds in the country near Harry Benson’s farm. Scene
is at dinner-time on the picnic grounds. The band is heard playing in
the distance. Ethel, Jennie, and Mrs. Benson are busy taking food from a
large box. Mr. Benson is sitting on a spring buggy seat at one side of
the stage. Toy balloon whistles can be heard at different intervals, some
louder than others. Also auto horns tooting occasionally._

MRS. BENSON

_While working._

Ethel, I thought the pageant went just fine. Didn’t you, Jennie?

JENNIE

I certainly did. Ethel makes a mighty good milk-maid. That fellow in love
with her seemed to think the same thing.

MR. BENSON

By jinks, it did me a lot of good to see her snub that city feller.

ETHEL

I’m glad you all enjoyed it. It went better than we thought it would.

MRS. BENSON

How did you train that dog to walk across the stage like he did?

ETHEL

We didn’t—he walked across of his own accord. It fitted in the scene
fine, but I could hardly keep from laughing.

MRS. BENSON

Well, I declare, it looked just like he was supposed to do it. (_Looking
in box_) I can’t find any salt or pepper.

_Auto horns toot in the distance._

JENNIE

They’re wrapped up in some white paper in one corner.

MRS. BENSON

Here they are.

_Unwraps and puts on table._

JENNIE

Wonder what’s keeping Harry. I saw him right after the game, and he said
he’d be down in a little while. Which dish is the salad in, Ethel?

ETHEL

It’s in that large oval dish.

_Auto horn toots._

JENNIE

Do you know what we forgot? We forgot the sugar for the lemonade.

MRS. BENSON

Dear me, now what are we to do?

ETHEL

Do you remember I started to get it this morning when you asked me to
whip the cream for the cake? I never thought of it again.

JENNIE

I wonder if the Newtons would have any more than they want.

ETHEL

I’ll run up to where they are eating and see.

_Exit Ethel. Enter Harry in baseball suit._

HARRY

My, but this shady place feels refreshing. Wow! Such a hypnotizing odor.
Better watch me. I’m liable to go into a spell and eat the whole works. I
feel like a starved wolf.

MR. BENSON

What’s the matter with you fellers, Harry—didn’t I hear you say our club
had a better nine than the Lyon Club?

HARRY

Can’t expect to beat that umpire. We got another one for this afternoon’s
game and I’ll bet they don’t beat us then. That umpire this morning was
absolutely “rotten.” He called me out twice on second base and I was
there a mile before the ball both times. Called Jones out on a home base
and the catcher dropped the ball before he even touched him. We had to
strike at everything that came along, for he’d call it a strike anyway.

JENNIE

We hope you’ll beat this afternoon. Are you too tired to get a pail of
water from the spring?

HARRY

Not if you will have dinner ready when I get back.

_Takes bucket on exit._

MR. BENSON

I wonder why Hiram and his wife ain’t here to-day. They’re generally
along the first ones at a picnic.

MRS. BENSON

I was talking with her over the phone yesterday and she said they were
coming.

MR. BENSON

Doesn’t seem quite natural without Hiram around.

_Enter Ethel with Floyd._

ETHEL

Opal, I brought Floyd down to play with you.

OPAL

_Jumping from swing clapping hands._

Oh goodie, won’t you swing me, Floyd?

ETHEL

Here is lots of sugar.

JENNIE

Good, Harry has gone after the water.

MRS. BENSON

I guess everything is all ready when he gets here.

_Enter Harry with water._

HARRY

I feel just like a starved bear. If dinner isn’t ready I’m going to jump
in this bucket of water and drown myself.

_Ethel and Jennie busy making lemonade._

JENNIE

All we’d need to do would be to pour in this juice and sugar (_they do
so_) and you’d soon drink the pond dry.

HARRY

Yes, and I’d do it so quick I wouldn’t even get wet.

_Exit Opal and Floyd._

ETHEL

If you people are hungry, get around here, it’s all ready.

JENNIE

Grandma, you and grandpa sit around here.

HARRY

I’ll sit close to the salad.

_Has lemonade on box close to him—everybody takes seat, leaving two for
Opal and Floyd and enough to set one more plate._

JENNIE

I wonder where the children have gone to.

MRS. BENSON

I didn’t see them leave. I expect they went up to play with the Smith
children.

HARRY

When you run dry on lemo, just hand your cups this way. Will you pass the
buns, please?

JENNIE

You ought not to be hungry after eating that big breakfast this morning.
What do you think—he ate four eggs, six baking powder biscuits and about
a cup full of syrup, to say nothing about potatoes.

HARRY

Just the same I don’t believe pa would advise me to go to the city to
cure my appetite, would you pa?

MR. BENSON

I guess not, by jinks! We eat to live, so why not live where we have an
appetite for what we eat?

_Enters Hiram smoking corn-cob pipe._

HIRAM

Golly, but I’m just in time.

MR. BENSON

Hello, Hiram, come and have some dinner.

HIRAM

Well, I never turn daon’ a meal when I’m hungry. Got some of those good
biscuits, Mary?

_Ethel prepares a place._

MRS. BENSON

We’ve got some biscuits, but I can’t say as they’re very good.

HIRAM

_Lays pipe at side of stage—takes seat at table._

Wall, I can say it without ever tastin’ them. John, I reckon ye can’t say
ye haven’t had a good meal since you moved back ter the farm. I can’t
keep from talkin’ about you movin’ to the city. Ye thought everything was
going to be honey, but it turned out ter be merlasses. Ain’t I right,
John?

MRS. BENSON

Where’s Rachel, didn’t she come?

HIRAM

She woke up with a headache this morning. I wanted ter stay hum with her,
but she made me come down for a while. There seems to be a large crowd
here, to-day.

HARRY

A very large crowd. I never saw the like of autos as were out to the game.

HIRAM

John, what do you know about these fellers. Henry tells me they got beat.

HARRY

The umpire played a fine game.

HIRAM

That’s what Henry was tellin’ me, but I just laughed at him. Everybody
hates to acknowledge they’re whipped. John here even kinder hates ter say
the city got the best of him. Of course, that’s different then getting
beat in a game. It wasn’t any honor ter the city, but ye fellers were on
equal footin’ and both teams are used ter the grounds, while John here,
he was on a strange diamond. We never had umpires when I was a boy, but
we found plenty of other excuses for getting beat.

MR. BENSON

Harry says they’re goin’ to beat them this afternoon.

HARRY

You two just watch us and see. We got a good umpire and we’re going to
beat them on equal footin’ as you say.

_Enter Opal and Floyd, hold of hands—stop quick and stand looking._

JENNIE

You children are rather late—here’s your places around here between
grandma and me.

_They take places at table, Jennie places bib around them._

Where have you been?

FLOYD

We went up to play with Ruth and Harold. They’ve got a swing fastened
away up high and you can swing twice as far as you can with this one.

OPAL

It almost took my breath away.

HIRAM

The country’s the place to raise children in. Here they have all the
fresh air and good plain food ter make them grow. In the city they are
all crowded up together in a bunch. Their fresh air is all filled with
smoke. They have no place for the children to play exceptin’ in the parks
where they’re so careful with their hay they have signs all around ter
“keep off the grass.” Why, we have to raise their food for them, but they
don’t get it until it’s been in cold storage for a year or so or else
canned. I tell ye people, God intended fer us ter live in the country—if
He hadn’t He’d made the city instead. Ain’t that so, John?

JOHN

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right.

HIRAM

Of course, I’m right.

FLOYD

We’re going back after dinner, ain’t we, Opal?

OPAL

Can we, mama?

JENNIE

Oh maybe, if you’ll not get in anybody’s way and not get hurt.

OPAL AND FLOYD

Oh, we won’t.

HARRY

Pass the salad, please.

HIRAM

How was your play, Ethel?

ETHEL

It went off very well.

HIRAM

We were wantin’ ter see it so bad—such a fine day for it, too. Do ye know
we’d enjoy a doin’s like that, where we know the actors, better than we
would a play we’d have ter pay three or four dollars to see in the city?
Ain’t that right, John?

JOHN

I guess you’re right, I never saw anything better anywhere.

HIRAM

Ethel, how about you? Do ye think ye’ll ever be wantin’ to move back?
Rachel and I was just talkin’ the other day about what a loss it would
be ter the community if you married a city feller and moved out; we were
just wonderin’ if there were any on yer track.

MRS. BENSON

You don’t need to worry. One rich feller tried it and he didn’t get her.

ETHEL

Mother, you shouldn’t tell my little secrets.

FLOYD

I’m ready to go.

_Begins leaving table._

OPAL

So am I.

JENNIE

Let me wipe your hands before you go.

_Wipes their hands and mouths._

FLOYD

_As he begins leaving stage before Opal is ready._

Hurry up, Opal!

OPAL

I’m coming. (_As they go skipping out._) Good-by, mama!

_Exeunt._

HIRAM

Ain’t that just like little tots? I tell ye, people, we don’t appreciate
being little till we’re old. Did ye ever notice how older people enjoy
sittin’ around talkin’ about the things they did when they were little?
Golly, but I’ll never forget the time when I was about three years old
and my mother started to walk over ter one of our neighbors that lived
about a mile and er half from our place. We didn’t get very far when I
wanted ter be carried. Well, she couldn’t carry me so fur so she goes
and breaks a hazel brush for a stick-horse and gives it ter me ter ride.
Wall, I can remember just as well as if it was yesterday, how I gets on
that stick-horse and begun ridin’, runnin’ on ahead kickin’ up my heels
and runnin’ side ways like a proud army horse. Then I’d get scared and go
to rearin’ and backin’. Then I run clear back again.

_Enters a little boy and begins fooling with swing._

Well sir, I rode that stick-horse all the way over and back and never
asked once to be carried again. Ye’ve got ter give a kid something to do
if you don’t want ter get into trouble.

Give a kid something to do
And he’ll grow up, pure, noble and true.

Ain’t that right, John?

MR. BENSON

I guess you’re right, that’s the way I was brought up.

ETHEL

_Speaking to boy at swing._

Hello, little man, why don’t you get in and swing?

_He does so._

MR. BENSON

How’s your cattle lookin’ lately, Hiram?

HIRAM

Fine, by golly, I never seen ’em grow so fast. I get ’em on that new
field of bromus grass. They’ll be in mighty fine shape to fatten this
fall.

_Enters Leslie Larsen in band suit, carrying horn._

LESLIE

Everybody seems to be happy.

HARRY

Hello Leslie, going to play at the game this afternoon? We’re going to
beat ’em.

LESLIE

We’ll be right there, but I’m not so sure about the beating part since
that game this morning.

JENNIE

Had your dinner, Leslie?

LESLIE

Yes, we’ve been through half an hour. I was just going to the bowry.
We’re going to have a little concert before the speaking.

HIRAM

Who’s the speaker to-day?

LESLIE

Senator McDonald. I saw him coming this way before I started. I met him
this morning. Seems like a fine fellow.

HIRAM

John, why don’t yer give ’em a talk on how to be happy in the city?

_Senator walks across rear of stage without noticing anyone. Leslie calls
him._

LESLIE

Mr. McDonald, come here a moment.

MR. MCDONALD

Why hello, Mr. Larsen!

LESLIE

Mr. McDonald, this is the Benson family—one of our prominent farmers in
this community.

MR. MCDONALD

People, I’m very glad to meet you. It does my heart good to get out and
meet the tillers of the soil. I always consider it a great honor to have
such a privilege as a day like this. I was out walking to get some fresh
air before my talk.

HIRAM

No place like the country for fresh air, ain’t that right Senator?

MR. MCDONALD

You’re right. Hope you fellows will be at the speaking. I always like a
large crowd.

MR. BENSON

You can count on our being there.

MR. MCDONALD

Good! bring all your friends. I’ll be walking on. Good-by.

_Exit._

JENNIE

If everyone has had enough, we’ll spread the tablecloth over the
table—we’ve got to eat supper here before we leave.

_Women arrange table._

LESLIE

Well, I’ll have to be going or I’ll be late.

HARRY

Guess I’ll walk up with you. I guess the women will come together.

_Exeunt._

MR. BENSON

Hiram, you ought to order you a running water system and an electric
light plant for your farm. They’ve got ’em down now so ye can’t afford to
be without ’em.

HIRAM

John, are ye havin’ a nightmare about the city?

MR. BENSON

By jinks, I’m speakin’ my right mind. We just sent in an order for an
electric light plant. Harry says we can get a motor so small we can carry
it around under our arms and can attach it to the wire any place and run
our fan mills, pumps, grinders, washin’ machines, in fact everything
dependin’ on the size of the motor. In the house you can take off a light
bulb and attach a “lectric” iron and cooker, make it do the churnin’ and
sweepin’, run the sewin’ machine, and even rock the cradle, besides
havin’ light all over yer buildin’s without any danger of fire.

HIRAM

Wall, I’ll be goll durned. John, are ye sure ye haven’t been drinkin’ too
much lemonade?

MR. BENSON

It’s right. In the spring we’re goin’ ter git a runnin’ water system made
especially for the farm. Harry has had it all planned for over a year now.

HIRAM

Wall, if that don’t beat the cat’s a fightin’. I knew that boy had the
stuff in him when he planned that house for you and Mary.

JENNIE

If you folks are going, you had better be coming along.

MR. BENSON

_Looking at watch._

By jinks, it is time we were going.

ETHEL

I’ll be there as soon as I find my fan.

_Exeunt all but Ethel. Enters Clarence unobserved. Ethel looks through
box and around for fan._

Well, I’m sure I brought that fan along, I couldn’t think of losing it,
for it’s one Clarence gave me before he went away to school and before we
moved to the city. Well, that’s funny—I know I couldn’t have lost it on
the way, and we—

CLARENCE

You don’t need a fan in this cool place.

ETHEL

Clarence! You here?

_Rises and takes him by the hand._

CLARENCE

Yes, I graduated last week—came home to settle down and do something.
One feels mighty ambitious after going through college and wants to get
right out and begin applying his knowledge and getting the practical
experience. But you? I thought you were in the city. Out for a visit, I
suppose?

ETHEL

Visit! Why, the folks have moved back on the farm. Being the baby, I
naturally had to come too. Of course, I hated to leave.

CLARENCE

I’m mighty glad to know your folks have moved back on the farm. Now that
it won’t be necessary for you to look after them so closely, I suppose
you will soon be moving back and start your practical applications, there.

ETHEL

Oh, maybe—things are mighty handy, you know.

CLARENCE

Lots of fine fellows there, too, I suppose?

ETHEL

Lots of them. The girls are scarce, too. Tell me about your college days.
Suppose you graduated with high honors?

CLARENCE

Oh, no, no! Not many anyway. There was a lot—

_Enters Hiram, stops and listens._

of things I wanted to get at the bottom of; so many things I was in doubt
about. I was too busy to think of honors. I went in to prepare myself for
higher honors to be won later in life and that shall be remembered and
enjoyed by those that follow after me when I’m gone.

HIRAM

That’s right, my boy. It ain’t so much what you do in school as it
is what ye get, and you do after ye get out. That’s the time to do
something. Look at Lincoln—he hardly seen the inside of a schoolhouse,
but he studied and got something then went and done somethin’. He came
from the farm, too. Pardon me, children, I left my pipe layin’ there by
this tree when I set down ter dinner. (_Takes pipe and lights, taking
long, loud draws._) I’ll be leavin’, I know young folks like to be alone.

_Exit._

CLARENCE

I guess he didn’t recognize me. Have I changed much, Ethel?

ETHEL

A little more mature in looks is all.

CLARENCE

Tell me about your life in the city, Ethel.

ETHEL

I haven’t much to tell—we had a fine house and servants, but the folks
were out of place and didn’t feel at home. You see they had lived in the
country too long to get any comfort out of the city life—there isn’t
anything that seemed real to them. Mother didn’t like to let on for she
was the strongest advocate of going, and you couldn’t blame her when she
thought of all the conveniences in the city. But even at that she had
lived in the country too long to get any enjoyment out of the city. As
for me, I’m young and can soon adapt myself to the new conditions in the
city. Can’t you imagine what a good city belle I would make?

CLARENCE

Ethel, you have been the best friend I ever had outside of mother and
father and they’re both gone. The reason I went away to school was the
thought that I might some day be worthy and capable of making a home
for you equal to the best found anywhere. I realize that the majority
of farmers buy conveniences for themselves without realizing the
conveniences their wives need in the house, so they have to go on in the
same way their grandmothers did. Ethel, you remember that last letter you
wrote me, three years ago, I believe?

ETHEL

Yes, and you never answered it.

CLARENCE

No. When you went away to the city you were young and I did not dare ask
you to wait for me. Besides I thought it would be useless for you were
thinking that when the time came you would marry a city fellow who could
offer you a home without the drudgery some women have on the farm. In
that last letter, you were telling me about a certain rich man. Well, I
knew your youthful dream had come true. I didn’t want to stand in your
way. I knew you were old enough to know what you wanted, so I didn’t
write. Ethel, I almost gave up then, and I don’t know but what I would
had it not been for my roommate, noble old chap. He got me started right
again. Ethel, I hope you will be happy in the city.

_Rises and crosses stage._

ETHEL

I did write about a certain young man, but—

CLARENCE

But what?

ETHEL

I didn’t think you would take it so seriously.

CLARENCE

You mean to say—

ETHEL

That I was only teasing you about the city.

CLARENCE

Then you’re not—

_Takes her hand._

ETHEL

Not if I can help it. How about that home you were dreaming about?

CLARENCE

It’s yours, Ethel, and it’s going to be the very best (_embrace_).

_Embrace. Enter Hiram and Mr. Benson. Stop short on seeing Ethel and
Clarence in each other’s arms._

MR. BENSON

_Harshly._

Ethel!

_Ethel and Clarence separate embarrassed._

CLARENCE

_Going up and taking Mr. Benson by the hand._

Mr. Benson, I know this is no way to be caught with your daughter, but
since it couldn’t be helped I suppose the only way to get around it will
be for you to give your consent to marry her.

MR. BENSON

Are you going to live on the farm?

CLARENCE

Would you advise me to?

MR. BENSON

By jinks, you can’t have her unless you do.

_Clarence crosses and puts arm around Ethel._

HIRAM

By golly, it does me good to see the cream of the country come pourin’
back again. Don’t you know some of our greatest men like Lincoln and
Washington, come from the farm? They’d all like to have gotten back
again but they were so tied up in the world they couldn’t break loose.
The cities are all right in a way, and I suppose we couldn’t get along
without them now, but, by golly, there would never have been a city if it
hadn’t been for the country. Why, I can remember when all the young men
that wanted to do something worth while went to the cities and left the
very poorest fellows at home. And the old fellows when they got enough
money they moved ter the city and spent their money there. By golly,
that’s right, ain’t it, John?

MR. BENSON

I guess you’re right, Hiram.

HIRAM

Of course, I’m right. By golly, it sure does me good ter see the change
coming where the best people of the country stay on the farm instead of
movin’ ter the city where they’re just as much out of place as “A Bee in
a Drone’s Hive.”

Author of play—Cecil Baker.

CURTAIN.

LARIMORE

Somebody once said a pageant was a big outdoor play in which people in
everyday walks of life—John and Joe and Susan—take an active part and
tell the story of what happened in the neighborhood, county, or state in
their own manner. It is something that might be called a human festival,
because the people young and old and even “the animals, the oxen and the
horse, the donkey and the dog” all take part.

This particular kind of a play was especially well portrayed in “The
Story of Grand Forks County,” a historical pageant in five episodes,
which was presented in the little town of Larimore on June second,
nineteen hundred and twenty. Thirty different communities, working in
coöperation and under the direction of a central committee, selected
the material, dramatized the events, and acted the parts. One thousand
persons, ranging in age from a seven-months-old baby to a white-haired
man of sixty-five were the players. Schools, churches, clubs, bands,
choruses, and various other social agencies contributed their enthusiasm
and energies in making the spectacle a success. Ten thousand people saw
the production. Eleven hundred automobiles were parked on the grounds,
and this did not include those standing in rows in the center of
down-town streets.

Larimore, after all, isn’t such a big town, but it is a mighty
interesting place. Its population is made up of people who appreciate
the big things in life. And when a worth-while thing comes along they
put their shoulders to the wheel and—well they make whatever it is go.
They showed their mettle when they built the stage for the pageant in a
corner of their newly laid-out park. For several days, sometimes in the
morning as early as five o’clock, the men in the community were up and
at work. They used ice tongs to carry the four hundred bridge planks,
which, by the way, were eighteen feet long, twelve inches wide, and
four inches thick. They borrowed these from the county commissioners and
constructed a huge platform seventy-two feet in width and thirty-six feet
in depth. The background was one hundred and fifty-six feet long and
twenty feet in height. There were two wings, fourteen and sixteen feet
high respectively, on each side. All of these were covered with branches
of trees cut and hauled on hayracks from a nearby brook. In the center
of the background rows of seats were built in the shape of a tree which
held a chorus of two hundred girls, robed in pure white. They came from
different sections of the county and sang during the interludes. The
seats were arranged in amphitheater style. At each corner a band was
stationed. Tents pitched back of the stage were used for dressing rooms.
The stage manager happened to be a local auto taxi owner.

June second was an ideal day. At two o’clock in the afternoon the buglers
announced the opening of “The Story of Grand Forks County,” a historical
pageant in five episodes. Then came the procession of the bands and a
chorus. The prologue or story of the play followed. It was written by
one schoolmaster and given by another. It is well worth quoting, for it
not only shows a fine poetic temperament but tells the history of one of
America’s finest agricultural counties.

“Friends, we have gathered here beneath the vaulted sky,
In God’s great out-of-doors, where nature greets the eye,
With grass and trees and flowers—we’ve gathered here to stage
The story of our County down to the present age.
In song and dance and tableau its history will be told;
In interludes and episodes our pageant will unfold.
We journey back in fancy a span of fifty years,
Back to the days of Indians and hardy pioneers.
Here waves a sea of prairie grass upon the endless plain;
Here lies a pile of whitening bones that mark the bison’s reign.
Within a fringe of forest green that skirts a river’s flow,
The Indians are breaking camp—’tis time for them to go.
‘The white man comes,’ the scouts report, ‘our hunting here is done,
The white man comes and we must go, on towards the setting sun.’

“As night comes on and in the west the sun sets for the day,
Full slowly up the valley an ox-team weaves its way.
It draws a covered wagon. On the driver’s seat a man,
His head turned back, is speaking to a woman in the van;
‘Look, Mary, there’s a likely spot in yonder grove of trees,
There’s water, fuel, fish, and game; the grass comes to my knees;
The land is fertile, level, smooth—what need to farther roam?
Come let us halt in this fair place and build ourselves a home.’
Thus did they come, our pioneers, brave husband, braver wife,
Heroic souls that sang and worked and asked no odds of life.
So friends, to-day, the picture that first will meet our sight,
Is the leaving of the red man and the coming of the white.
The world is restless, craves to move, and therefore mankind feels
A deep abiding gratitude to the man who first made wheels.
The great improvements made in wheels, the constant evolution
From wagon down to motor car has caused a revolution,
Affecting every phase of life, our business and our pleasure,
And proved itself in countless ways a blessing beyond measure.
It was a happy day indeed when on the frontier trails
The pioneers beheld the sight of shining iron rails,
That spelled the end of grueling trips to market by ox-team,
And heralded the coming of their greatest ally—steam.
When now the growth and progress of transportation’s shown,
It will explain one reason why prosperity has grown.

“Year after year more settlers came, each year more fields were tilled,
And lavish Nature blessed their work, their granaries were filled
With golden wheat and other grains; their herds of cattle grew;
They prospered greatly and progressed and those who failed were few.
Then one by one the towns sprang up, with smithy, bank, and store,
With elevator, mill, and yard, and markets at their door.
The towns and farms worked hand in hand, theirs was a common cause.
And from the start unto this day, advancing without pause,
Our industries have grown apace, have made our County great—
Till it is known both far and wide the banner of the State.

“The greatest factor in the growth of county, state, or nation,
No thing is dearer to our hearts than is the common school,
What makes for happiness and peace is public education;
For well we know that it must be if liberty shall rule.
Our fathers when they came built schools, albeit they were rude,
Judged by our standards, poorly taught, ill-disciplined, and crude.
These schools did foster splendid men and noble women too;
And from that small beginning our present system grew.
Our pageant here will show to you how we have forged ahead,
How in the work of betterment our schools have always led.
Yet, we can not be satisfied with that which we have done,
For after all our schools’ advance is only well begun.

“Whence came these men who wrought these deeds? What land did give them
birth?
They came from distant lands and climes, from far across the earth.
The Frenchman came; the Irishman; the German, Scotch, and Norse;
And every mother’s son of them, a man of strength and force,
That threw himself into the work with hands and heart and brain,
That labored for our Country’s weal with all his might and main,
Their children, born beneath our flag and fostered in our schools,
Hold for the land of liberty a love that never cools;
They all are real Americans—Americans through and through
They stand for order, law, and right, for all that’s good and true.
So in this pageant of to-day as episodes unfold
The marvels of our progress; as our wondrous growth is told,
All is centered round the people; ’tis their story we portray,
For the people made the County what the County is to-day.”

G. T. Almen.

After the prologue, the five episodes and interludes were enacted in a
manner highly satisfactory to the ten thousand spectators. Real Indians,
dog and pony travois, an old prairie schooner, a sod shanty, the Red
River ox-cart, the first railroad engine to enter the county, a stage
coach of pioneer days, the cradle, the reaper, the old breaking plow,
the one room school house, the different peoples from foreign countries
who settled in the county, added interest and gave color to the pageant.
The children from the different schools in the county were costumed to
represent the different grains, the prairie roses and the violets, the
strawberries and the potatoes. One set of girls interpreted an original
wind dance. A boys’ band, a business men’s band, a farmers’ band, and a
chorus furnished the music.

The final tableau or scene was a magnificent sight, something that will
never be forgotten. In the center of the forest background on tiers
of raised seats, two hundred girls clad in white were standing. Above
them the Stars and Stripes were floating. Down on the stage, a thousand
players, real country people, were grouped. On the ground and in a circle
ten thousand people were standing. The bands were playing and everybody
was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

One who stood there and looked at it all could not help but think what
tremendous opportunities there are out on these prairies, if only the
people can find their true expression. As a certain person who was very
active in making it a success said, “What shall we say of it? What shall
be the future?” The joy of self-expression is a supreme one. “I was in
it.” “I made a poster.” “We made the violet costumes.” “Our dog hauled
the wigwam”—in fact, “I helped,” these are the words on every lip. Truly
it was a pageant “of the people, by the people, for the people,” with
none too great nor too small to participate.

For everyone it has meant a great lesson in patriotism and coöperation.
For each community in the county it means a refreshing social contact
and an unselfish interest in local affairs. It means the creating of
pure and wholesome pleasure, rather than the purchasing of that which
is often doubtful. It means the discovery of much hidden talent. For
the individual it means greater development of social consciousness, a
broader and deeper appreciation of his brother and friend, a desire not
only to do something for himself but to help someone else. And this is
the real gospel of America to-day, the flower of service, which with
the aid of stirring imagination will develop into one of everlasting
sweetness and beauty.

Up in Grand Forks County they have a county superintendent with a vision,
one who not only sees but organizes and does the things. The pageant
did what she dreamed it would do. It brought into play all the talent
of the county. The art of the people was expressed through the setting,
the costumes, the posters, and the light effects; the music, through
song and instrument; the organizing power through promotion, seating
arrangement, rehearsal, and presentation; the mechanical genius through
the stage construction; and the literary ability through the gathering,
the arranging, and the writing of the subject matter.

When all these faculties are brought into exercise, they cannot help but
arouse the creative instincts in the mind of the county or the community.
They appeal to the heart instincts. This is one of the pageant’s great
values to society.

FORTY TOWNS

In order to feel the pulse of the people of the state in regard to their
attitude toward plays, as well as to carry the drama to the people, a
road tour of forty towns was made. Twenty-two counties were visited. The
play selected for this trip was “Back to the Farm,” written by Merline
Shumway, a former student at the Minnesota Agricultural College. It is
a three-act rural comedy. The central thought running through the play
is the old way of doing things on the farm versus the new method. It
appeals to all classes of people and especially to those who have tilled
the soil. One farmer said it was the best thing he had ever seen. Another
told his friends that “‘Back to the Farm’ had ‘The Birth of a Nation’
skun a mile.” They were both right, because to them the play came out of
the soil.

A cast of eight characters was taken on the tour. They were given
twenty-five dollars a week and their railroad fares. In the evening
they presented the play and during the day made a brief social survey
of every community visited. For instance, one young man would go to the
livery stable or garage and find out something about the roads in the
surrounding community. Naturally, roads have something to do with people
getting together. Another would measure the size of village halls, the
assembly rooms in schoolhouses, the basements of churches, empty country
stores, and lodge rooms—in fact, any place where people assembled.
Listing musical activities in the town was the duty of one member of the
cast. Still another looked up everything he could find about athletics
in the different places. The various clubs, organizations, and societies
in the town were tabulated by one young man. The three ladies in the
cast ascertained the number of festivals, pageants, home talent plays,
programs, games, folk dances, library facilities, and newspapers. All of
these facts, combined with other data obtained before and since then,
make a splendid social diagnosis of certain phases of country life in
North Dakota. They give one an insight into the activities of country
folks out on a prairie. Many interesting conditions were revealed by the
survey and knowledge gained elsewhere.

As a rule the roads are good. Travel in the late spring, summer, and fall
is comparatively easy. In the winter it is more difficult, just as it
is in any state. In some places the roads are graded ten, fifteen, and
twenty miles out from a center. The prairie or grass road is frequently
used to save time. It is not an uncommon occurrence for parties to drive
twenty and thirty miles to attend a picnic, a play or a social function
of some kind. Even in the winter and early spring the snow and “gumbo” do
not stop them from attending social activities. Automobiles average from
one to three to a section of land. Means of communication are constantly
improving. Inasmuch as the homes in the country in the state are far
apart, due to the present large acreage of the farms, the roads are an
important factor in developing the social life in the country districts.

[Illustration: Folk Dances, Parades, and Pageants Have Become an Integral
Part of the Social Life of the State]

Practically every community possesses some sort of a hall or a meeting
place. In size they accommodate, so far as the seating arrangement is
concerned, from one to six hundred persons. In the forty towns visited,
four had halls with a seating capacity of less than one hundred and
fifty, fifteen with two hundred, twelve with three hundred, five with
four hundred and four with six hundred and over. The seats were not
stationary, the halls being used for other purposes. For the most part
they consisted of folding chairs, kitchen chairs, boxes, saw-horses,
and barn floor planks. The stages were small and the scenery scarce. In
several places one could stand on the stage, and touch the ceiling with
his hands. The front curtains were usually roll curtains and covered with
advertising. Very few stages had a set of scenery. Oil and acetylene
lamps furnished the necessary light. Barn lanterns were not uncommon.
Occasionally some enterprising community would have electricity. In one
village hall electric light bulbs were set in large tomato cans which
were cut down on one side. These served as footlights. Automobile head
lights facing toward the stage quite frequently gave the necessary
light. Plumbers’ candles were sometimes used. Dressing room facilities
were generally lacking. Sometimes a ladder was placed at the back
window near the stage and the characters in the play who found it
necessary to change their make-up would climb out on the ladder and go
down in the basement between acts and make the necessary adjustments.
Screens, blankets, and sheets pinned across the back corners of the
stage make a good impromptu stage dressing room. Several of the halls
had excellent dining rooms in connection with them. All the buildings
were used for many different community activities. Most of them lacked
good architecture, simply because the agencies in education had never
taken enough interest in planning community buildings for country
districts. The present tendency in consolidated schools is to install
stages, platforms, and gymnasiums, in order to make them available for
every activity characteristic of community life. A great many of the
communities had splendid well arranged halls.

The musical survey showed that in districts where the people were of
foreign descent all kinds of music thrived. The majority of the places
had the talent, but not the leadership and the organization. Music in
the schools was fairly well developed. Dance orchestras were popular.
One town had a good orchestra, a fine band, and a glee club. Another had
just a band of fifteen pieces. Victrolas were popular and in use in every
school for games and folk dances. An interesting feature of the different
kinds of music was the popularity of the violin. Every orchestra was
blessed with this particular kind of a string instrument.

So far as clubs and organizations are concerned, every community has
plenty of them. Some of them are very active and broad-minded, as well as
farseeing in their work. Others are petty in their attitude and inclined
to do very little. Many duplicate each other’s work. Where there is
leadership, the organizations are alert and perform many valuable acts of
service.

[Illustration: Of the Fifty-three Counties in the State Thirty-five Have
County Play Days]

Athletic activities in the various towns and country districts are
extremely popular with both the young and the old. Baseball is generally
played at twilight, between seven-thirty and nine-thirty in the evening.
Basketball tournaments in consolidated school districts attract
considerable attention. Field days at farmers’ picnics create an unusual
interest.

County play days in which all the children in the county meet at some
particular place and participate in games, folk dances, parades, and
pageants have become an integral part of the social life of the state.
Out of the fifty-three counties in the state over thirty-five have play
days. From two to ten thousand people attend these annual affairs.

The attitude of the weekly papers toward social functions and public
programs is excellent. Space is freely given. The library facilities for
furnishing data for presentation on public programs are not good, due
primarily to lack of material and funds with which to purchase it. The
possibilities for library work in the country districts in the state and
even other states are infinite. Thousands of letters besides the survey
of the forty towns attest this fact.

Hundreds of plays are presented in the state every year. Home talent
plays are generally greeted with great crowds everywhere. Everybody
“likes ’em.” Operettas are popular because large casts of characters
are necessary to produce them. And besides everybody likes to see his
offspring, relative, or friend take part. It is human nature to see what
is in a person. The audiences are always enthusiastic and appreciative.
The repertoire consists of comedies, classical plays, Christmas
festivals, pantomimes, operettas, and May fetes. The community without a
play is one without a leader. In a great many towns and rural districts
the play, the picnic, and the Christmas festival are annual affairs. It
is doubtful whether anything proves so popular with the vast majority of
people as a real play staged by honest-to-goodness country folks. It also
unconsciously brings out a spirit of leadership.

These few facts which were gathered by the cast during the day, coupled
with other information secured before and after the tour, tell one
something, perhaps not much, about the social life of country people in a
prairie state.

The experiences encountered during the forty-day sojourn were
interesting, to say the least. The audiences ranged in size from
twenty-six persons to seven hundred. A county fair or circus admission
of fifty cents for adults and twenty-five for children was charged.
Sometimes the audiences were made up of cowboys, or cow-punchers, as
the Westerners say. In one community two hundred sheep herders saw the
play. In another, lignite coal miners and their families witnessed the
production. For the most part the halls were filled with wheat growers
and dairymen and their kin. With a few possible exceptions the crowds
were rural in their complexion. Out in the extreme western part of the
state the lights balked and the play never started until nine forty-five
in the evening. In one town a thirteen dollar and fifty cent crowd
enjoyed the comedy. It was necessary to purchase a bolt of chocolate
colored cambric in another place, because only one screen could be
found in the whole community. The cambric was used as a background and
the screen for a left wing. The back of a piano with the American flag
drooped over it served as the right wing. Old-fashioned acetylene lamps
gave the necessary light. A large dry goods box was used for a ticket
stand. Planks resting on saw horses satisfied the crowd so far as a
seating arrangement was concerned. Social functions frequently followed
the presentation of the play. After paying all expenses, the profits on
the forty town road tour amounted to six dollars and sixty-seven cents.

The tour showed that people actually like plays. It carried the drama to
the people.

COLD SPRING HOLLOW

A little over a year ago it was my good fortune to spend several days in
Berkley County, West Virginia. “Tepee,” a jovial and good natured fellow
and myself were in a camp out three miles from historic Martinsburg. The
place was not so very far from the Maryland border. The festival chosen
was “The Ingathering,” a story about America, in which food for humanity
was the central theme. The characters were the country youth from those
West Virginia hills. The site selected was Cold Spring Hollow near
Opequan Creek. It was a beautiful spot in a little valley on Uncle Nat’s
farm. On the hillsides which rose right and left from the hollow, there
were many stately pines. A spring in the upper part of the valley kept
the grass green and furnished many a refreshing drink.

The scene of the story of “The Ingathering” is laid in the Garden of
Freedom where the Altar of Liberty is concealed. Mother Earth is escorted
through a field of golden grain to the Garden. Here she stops and tells
her escort that the Holy Earth has a soul and that through the ages her
friends have been, Story, Art, and Song and that the elements of nature
when the seasons were made selected Autumn as the most beautiful of all.
The Spirit of Autumn, arrayed in all the colors characteristic of that
season, moves about the field with graceful rhythm. Story then comes
running through the field into the Garden of Freedom and tells Mother
Earth that her children, representing many different races, are coming in
search of the Altar of Liberty. They enter the field talking, though they
do not understand each other. They babble. As they approach the Garden
she halts them, asks them to be seated and gives Story a basket of bread
that they may have food to eat. Mother Earth realizes that when people
break bread with each other they not only understand each other better,
but they also exemplify the noblest virtues of mankind—sacrifice and
charity. Story then tells Mother Earth that people since time immemorial
have commemorated the ingathering of food. Art comes and teaches the
races many games and frolics with them. In the distance Song is heard.
She enters and succeeds in getting all these people singing together.
Mother Earth beckons Story, Art, and Song to bring all these people to
the Garden of Freedom. They come and kneel with hands outstretched. For
a moment darkness reigns everywhere. Story, Art, and Song uncover what
these children for generations have been praying for. Light again appears
and before their eyes the Altar of Liberty is seen in the Garden of
Freedom which is located in the land called America.

The Altar of Liberty was constructed out of poles and evergreens cut from
the nearby woods. Joe and Jim, two country lads, were the architects and
builders. Joe was fat and chubby and about as large around as an apple
barrel. He had a pair of merry blue eyes and everybody liked him. One
day after the rehearsal, when we were laying out the frame work of the
altar with poles, I said, “Joe, don’t you think you had better get a
saw and cut the ends of these poles straight so they’ll stand erect?”
Joe looked at me and said, “Don’t you think I can cut them?” He was
standing with his hand and foot resting on the handle and blade of a wood
chopper’s ax. When told he might try, he raised the ax over his shoulder
and with several strokes cut the pole off as straight and clean as any
first-class carpenter would have sawed it. After that day when anybody
saw Joe carrying an ax around the camp they would follow him, because
they knew Joe was an expert woodsman. Jim, his pal, was lean, had brown
eyes, and was somewhat rough spoken. But Jim could drive twenty penny
spikes. His aim was true. Of the many he drove he never missed a head.
The construction of the Altar of Liberty was the medium through which Joe
and Jim got interested in the festival.

The evening it was presented the automobiles which usually furnished the
lights were not there. The hilly roads prevented their coming down into
the valley. Some other kind of light had had to be found. One day during
the week a fourteen-year-old boy had been seen scratching a match on
the edge of a tin can cover. When asked what made the flame he said it
was pitch. After a few trials as to its light power, the lads were sent
up into the woods to get all they could find. They brought back large
quantities. Chunks of pitch as large as your fists were placed on flat
pieces of limestone near the altar. These natural footlights with a huge
bonfire furnished all the light necessary for the production. A small
organ, about the size of three suit-cases placed on top of each other,
was used for the musical effects. The audience was made up of about a
hundred and twenty-five country people. They were seated on peach crates,
buggy seats, camp stools, horse blankets, and checkered bed quilts.

The evening the festival was presented was an ideal one. The air was
cool and crisp. The stars were out. In the distance Opequan Creek could
be heard. The scene was a most impressive one. Evergreen boughs laid on
the ground in the form of a circle separated the audience from those who
took part in the play. At the right and up the hill a little way the
organ could be heard at intervals. The most beautiful part of it all was
near the end of the festival when the reflection of the lights on the
flat stones showed the ensemble of the characters. They were kneeling in
the Garden of Freedom with their hands outstretched toward the Altar of
Liberty singing—

“Our fathers’ God, to Thee,
Author of Liberty
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom’s holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!”

The effect was thrilling. In a valley in the foothills of West Virginia a
group of country people were not only finding themselves, but they were
also expressing a great American ideal.

The message of The Little Country Theater—to help people find their true
expression in the community in which they live—was carried beyond the
golden stubbled field of the land of the Dacotahs into the heart of the
hills of West Virginia.

Knowledge is of two kinds—We know a subject ourselves or we
know where we can find information upon it.

_Samuel Johnson._

APPENDICES

He reads much. He is a great observer, and he looks quite
through the deeds of men.

_Shakespeare._

In order to give the reader of this narrative on The Little Country
Theater an insight into the hidden possibilities for the development of
a life in both town and country, a life with more color and romance,
a select list of reading materials is given. Aside from the program
material sources, a careful reading of such books as _The Holy Earth_, by
Liberty Bailey; _Three Acres and Liberty_, by Bolton Hall; _The Fairview
Idea_, by Herbert Quick; _The Village_, by Ernest Poole; _The Farmer and
The New Day_, by Kenyon Butterfield, and scores of other books cannot
help but broaden one’s outlook upon life. A reading taste could easily
be developed in this and other countries if every community, regardless
of its size, would place a book shelf containing interesting literature
in the country store, village post office, community hall, school house,
or somebody’s home. A few dollars, say fifteen or twenty-five would
be a sufficient fund to begin the reading circle. The school master,
especially the county superintendent, would soon see a changed attitude
and a renewed interest in education. The grown-ups, the folks whose
school days are no more, as well as the school children would, if a
library bookshelf was placed in every hamlet, be given an opportunity to
spend at least a part of their leisure time, with pleasure and profit.
Good books are good friends. Reading one is like visiting somebody you
haven’t seen in a long while. The author dedicates the several pages left
to those who want to read that they may know.

APPENDIX A

Select list of suitable reference material—General References, Country
Life, Suggested Lists of Plays, Presentation of Plays, Promotion of Plays.

GENERAL REFERENCES

_Ancient Art and Ritual_—Jane Ellen Harrison. Publisher, Henry
Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Book of Days, The_—R. Chambers. Publisher, W. and R. Chambers,
London, England.

_Dramas and Dramatic Dances_—William Ridgeway. Publisher,
Cambridge University Press, London, England.

_Drama of Savage People, The_—Loomis Havemeyer. Publisher, Yale
University Press, New Haven, Connecticut.

_Fine Arts, The_—G. Baldwin Brown. Publisher, Charles
Scribner’s Sons, New York City, New York.

_Golden Bough, The_—J. G. Frazer. Publisher, The Macmillan
Company, New York City, New York.

_Play of Man, The_—Karl Groos. Publisher, D. Appleton and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Amateur and Educational Dramatics_—Evelyne Hillard, Theodora
McCormick, Kate Oglebay. Publisher, The Macmillan Company, New
York City, New York.

_Art Theater, The_—Sheldon Cheney. Publisher, Alfred A. Knopf,
New York City, New York.

_Book of Marionettes, A_—Helen Haiman Joseph. Publisher, B. W.
Huebsch, New York City, New York.

_Chief Contemporary Dramatists_—Thomas Dickinson. Publisher,
Houghton Mifflin Company, New York City, New York.

_Civic Theater, The_—Percy Mackaye. Publisher, Mitchell
Kennerley, New York City, New York.

_Community Theater, The_—Louise Burleigh. Publisher, Little,
Brown and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Drama, The_—Alfred Bates. Publisher, The Athenian Society,
London, England.

_Drama League Series of Plays, The_—Publisher, Doubleday, Page
and Company, New York City, New York.

_History of the Theater in America, A_—Arthur Hornblow.
Publisher, J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

_Insurgent Theater, The_—Thomas Dickinson. Publisher, B. W.
Huebsch, New York City, New York.

_Life and Art of Edwin Booth_—William Winter. Publisher, The
Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Life and Art of Joseph Jefferson_—William Winter. Publisher,
The Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Masterpieces of Modern Drama, The_—John Alexander Pierce and
Brander Matthews. Publisher, Doubleday, Page and Company, New
York City, New York.

_Mediaeval Stage, The_—E. K. Chambers. Publisher, A. C. McClurg
and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Neighborhood Entertainments_—Renee B. Stern. Publisher,
Sturgis and Walton Company, New York City, New York.

_Our American Holidays_—Robert Haven Schauffler, Publisher,
Moffat, Yard and Company, New York City, New York.

_Plays and Players_—Walter Prichard Eaton. Publisher, Stewart
and Kidd Company, Cincinnati, Ohio.

_Studies in Stage Craft_—Clayton Hamilton. Publisher, Henry
Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Ten Thousand Words Often Mispronounced_—William H. Phyfe.
Publisher, Putnam Sons, New York City, New York.

_Theaters and Picture Houses_—Arthur S. Meloy. Publisher,
Architects Supply and Publishing Company, New York City, New
York.

_Theater Through Its Stage Door_—David Belasco. Publisher,
Harper and Brothers, New York City, New York.

_Training for the Stage_—Arthur Hornblow. Publisher, J. B.
Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

COUNTRY LIFE

_Adult Recreation as a Social Problem_—Edward Alsworth Ross.
Source, _The American Journal of Sociology_, January, Nineteen
Eighteen. Publisher, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago,
Illinois.

_American Country Girl, The_—Martha Foote Crow. Publisher,
Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York City, New York.

_Chapters in Rural Progress_—Kenyon L. Butterfield. Publisher,
The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois.

_Constructive Rural Sociology_—John M. Gillette. Publisher,
Sturgis and Walton Company, New York City, New York.

_Country Life Movement in the United States, The_—L. H. Bailey.
Publisher, The Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Country Town, The_—Wilbert L. Anderson. Publisher, The Baker
and Taylor Company, New York City, New York.

_Educational Needs of Farm Women_—United States Department of
Agriculture, Report No. 105. Publisher, Government Printing
Office, Washington, D. C.

_Fairview Idea, The_—Herbert Quick. Publisher, The
Bobbs-Merrill Company, Indianapolis, Indiana.

_Farm Boys and Girls_—William A. McKeever. Publisher, The
Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Farmer and the New Day, The_—Kenyon L. Butterfield. Publisher,
The Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Holy Earth, The_—L. H. Bailey. Publisher, Charles Scribner’s
Sons, New York City, New York.

_Introduction to Rural Sociology_—Paul Vogt. Publisher, D.
Appleton and Company, New York City, New York.

_Little Town, The_—Harlan Paul Douglas. Publisher, The
Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Our European Neighbors_—Twelve volumes edited by William
Harbutt Dawson. Publisher, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York City,
New York.

_Outlines of Economics_—Richard T. Ely. Publisher, The
Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Plans of Rural Community Buildings_—W. C. Nason. Source,
Farmers Bulletin 1173. Publisher, United States Department of
Agriculture, Washington, D. C.

_Proceedings—First, Second, and Third National Country Life
Conferences._ Publisher, National Country Life Association,
Amherst, Massachusetts, c/o Kenyon L. Butterfield.

_Psychic Causes of Rural Migration_—Ernest R. Groves. Source,
_The American Journal of Sociology_, March, Nineteen Sixteen.
Publisher, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Illinois.

_Rural Improvement_—Frank Waugh. Publisher, Orange, Judd
Company, New York City, New York.

_Rural Life Problem of the United States, The_—Sir Horace
Plunkett. Publisher, The Macmillan Company, New York City, New
York.

_Rural Planning and Colonization_—Ben Faast. Publisher,
Wisconsin Colonization Company, Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

_Rural Versus Urban_—John W. Bookwalter. Publisher, The
Knickerbocker Press, New York City, New York.

_Six Thousand Country Churches_—Charles Otis Gill and Gifford
Pinchot. Publisher, The Macmillan Company, New York City, New
York.

_Social Anatomy of a Rural Community, The_—Charles J. Galpin.
Source, Wisconsin Research Bulletin, Number 34. Publisher,
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wisconsin.

_State and the Farmer, The_—L. H. Bailey. Publisher, The
Macmillan Company, New York City, New York.

_Three Acres and Liberty_—Bolton Hall. Publisher, The Macmillan
Company, New York City, New York.

_Village, The_—Ernest Poole. Publisher, The Macmillan Company,
New York City, New York.

SUGGESTED LIST OF PLAYS—ONE ACT

_Afternoon Rehearsal, An_—Lizzie M. Knapp. Characters, Six
Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_American Beauties_—A. Seaman. Characters, Six Female.
Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Aunt Minerva_—Catherine Tudor. Characters, Five Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Bank Account, The_—Howard Brock. Characters, One Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Brentano, New York City, New York.

_Barbara_—Jerome K. Jerome. Characters, Two Male, Two Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Belles of Canterbury, The_—Characters, Eleven Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Between the Soup and the Savory_—Gertrude Jennings.
Characters, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Bishop’s Candlesticks_—Norman McKinnel. Characters, Three
Male, Two Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Bracelet, The_—Alfred Sutro. Characters, Four Male, Four
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Brown Paper Parcel, A_—M. J. W. Characters, Two Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Business Meeting, A_—Arlo Bates. Characters, Ten Female.
Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Christening Robe, The_—Anne L. Estebrook. Characters, Twelve
Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Christmas Chime, A_—Margaret Cameron. Characters, Two Male,
Two Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Christmas Tale, A_—Maurice Boucher. Characters, Two Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Clod, The_—Lewis Beach. Characters, Four Male, One Female.
Publisher, Doubleday, Page and Company, New York City, New York.

_Cooks and Cardinals_—Norman C. Lindon. Characters, Four Male,
Two Female. Publisher, Harvard Plays, 47 Workshop, Brentano’s,
New York City, New York.

_Courtship of Miles Standish_—Eugene W. Presbrey. Characters,
Two Male, Two Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Cut Off with a Shilling_—S. T. Smith. Characters, Two Male,
One Female. Publisher, Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_Dancing Dolls_—Kenneth Sawyer Goodman. Characters, Four Male,
Seven Female. Publisher, The Stage Guild, Chicago, Illinois.

_Day That Lincoln Died, The_—Prescott Warren and Will Hutchins.
Characters, Five Male, Two Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker,
Boston, Massachusetts.

_Deacon’s Hat, The_—Jeanette Marks. Characters, Three Male,
Three Female. Publisher, Three Welsh Plays, Little, Brown and
Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Dear Departed, The_—Stanley Houghton. Characters, Three Male,
Three Female. Publisher, Five One Act Plays, Samuel French, New
York City, New York.

_Dinner at Seven Sharp_—Tudor Jenks. Characters, Five Male,
Three Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Dress Rehearsal of Hamlet_—Mary Macmillan. Characters, Ten
Female. Publisher, Stewart and Kidd, Cincinnati, Ohio.

_Embers_—George Middleton. Characters, Two Male, Two Female.
Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Far Away Princess, The_—Herman Sudermann. Characters, Two
Male, Seven Female. Publisher, Roses, Charles Scribner’s Sons,
New York City, New York.

_Fatal Message, The_—John Kendrick Bangs. Characters, Five
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Harper and Brothers, New York
City, New York.

_First Come, First Served_—John Maddison Morton. Characters,
Three Male, Three Female. Publisher, Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Florist Shop, The_—Winifred Hawkridge. Characters, Three Male,
Two Female. Publisher, In Harvard Plays, Brentano’s, New York
City, New York.

_Futurists_—Mary Macmillan. Characters, Eight Women. Publisher,
Stewart and Kidd, Cincinnati, Ohio.

_Gettysburg_—Percy MacKaye. Characters, One Male, One Female.
Publisher, Duffield and Company, New York City, New York.

_Ghost of Jerry Bundler, The_—W. W. Jacobs and Charles Rock.
Characters, Seven Male. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Girls, The_—Mabel H. Crane. Characters, Nine Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Green Coat, The_—Alfred De Musset and Emile Augier.
Characters, Three Male, One Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Holly Tree Inn_—O. Berringer. Characters, Four Male, Three
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Hour Glass, The_—W. B. Yeats. Characters, Three Male, One
Female. Publisher, Plays from the Irish Theater, Macmillan and
Company, New York City, New York.

_How the Vote Was Won_—Cicely Hamilton and Christopher St.
John. Characters, Two Male, Eight Female. Publisher, The
Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Indian Summer_—Meilhac and Halevy. Characters, Two Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_In Hospital_—Thomas H. Dickinson. Characters, Three Male, Two
Female. Publisher, In Wisconsin Plays, B. W. Huebsch, New York
City, New York.

_Intruder, The_—Maurice Maeterlinck. Characters, Three Male,
Five Female. Publisher, Dodd, Mead and Company, New York City,
New York.

_In the Wrong House_—Martin Becher. Characters, Four Male, Two
Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_In the Zone_—Eugene O’Neill. Characters, Nine Male. Publisher,
The Moon of the Caribbees, Boni and Liveright, New York City,
New York.

_Joint Owners in Spain_—Alice Brown. Characters, Four Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Kleptomaniac, The_—Margaret Cameron. Characters, Seven Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Lend Me Five Shillings_—J. Maddison Morton. Characters, Five
Male, Two Female. Publisher, Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Little Red Mare, The_—O. E. Young. Characters, Three Male.
Publisher, Dick and Fitzgerald, New York City, New York.

_Lonesomelike_—Harold Brighouse. Characters, Two Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Gowans and Gray, London, England.

_Lost Silk Hat, The_—Lord Dunsany. Characters, Five Male.
Publisher, Mitchell Kennerley, New York City, New York.

_Maker of Dreams, The_—Oliphant Down. Characters, Two Male, One
Female. Publisher, Gowans and Gray, London, England.

_Marriage Has Been Arranged, A_—Alfred Sutro. Characters, One
Male, One Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Marriage Proposal, A_—Anton Tchekoff. Characters, Two Male,
One Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Merry, Merry Cuckoo, The_—Jeanette Marks. Characters, Four
Male, One Female. Publisher, Little, Brown and Company, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Misdemeanor of Nancy, A_—Eleanor Hoyt. Characters, Two Male,
Three Female. Publisher, The Speaker, Volume Two, Hinds, Hayden
and Eldredge, New York City, New York.

_Miss Civilization_—Richard Harding Davis. Characters, Four
Male, One Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Modesty_—Paul Hervieu. Characters, Two Male, One Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Mouse Trap_—Burton Harrison. Characters, One Male, One Female.
Publisher, Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Mouse Trap, The_—William Dean Howells. Characters, One Male,
Six Female. Publisher, Houghton, Mifflin Company, New York
City, New York.

_Mrs. Oakley’s Telephone_—Eudora M. Jennings. Characters, Four
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Mrs. Patt and the Law_—Mary Aldis. Characters, Three Male,
Two Female. Publisher, Plays for Small Stages, Duffield and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Nance Oldfield_—C. Reade. Characters, Three Male, Two Female.
Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Neighbors_—Zona Gale. Characters, Two Male, Six Female.
Publisher, Wisconsin Plays, B. W. Huebsch, New York City, New
York.

_Newly Married Couple, A_—Björnstjerne Björnson. Characters,
Three Male, Four Female. Publisher, E. P. Dutton and Company,
New York City, New York.

_Noble Lord, The_—Percival Wilde. Characters, Two Male, One
Female. Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New
York.

_Obstinancy_—R. Benedix. Characters, Three Male, Three Female.
Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Old Peabody Pew, The_—Kate Douglas Wiggin. Characters, One
Male, Eight Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Op’-O-Me-Thumb_—Frederic Fenn and Richard Pryce. Characters,
Five Female, One Male. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Orange Blossoms_—J. P. Wooler. Characters, Three Male, Three
Female. Publisher, Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_Our Aunt from California_—M. D. Barnum. Characters, Six
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Overtones_—Alice Gerstenberg. Characters, Four Female.
Publisher, Washington Square Plays, Doubleday, Page and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Pair of Lunatics, A_—W. R. Walkes. Characters, One Male, One
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Pantaloon_—J. M. Barrie. Characters, Four Male, One Female.
Publisher, Half Hours, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York City,
New York.

_Pipers Pay, The_—Margaret Cameron. Characters, Seven Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Playing with Fire_—Percival Wilde. Characters, One Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Dawn and Other One Act Plays, Henry Holt and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Pot of Broth, A_—W. B. Yeats. Characters, Two Male, One
Female. Publisher, In the Hour Glass and Other Plays, Macmillan
Company, New York City, New York.

_Prairie Wolf, The_—John Lange. Characters, Five Male, Three
Female. Publisher, The Little Country Theater, North Dakota
Agricultural College, Fargo, North Dakota.

_Press Cuttings_—Bernard Shaw. Characters, Four Male, Four
Female. Publisher, Press Cuttings, Brentano’s, New York City,
New York.

_Princess Faraway, The_—Edmond Rostand. Characters, One Male,
Two Female. Publisher, Hinds, Noble and Eldredge, New York
City, New York.

_Proposal under Difficulties, A_—John Kendrick Bangs.
Characters, Three Male, Two Female. Publisher, Harper and
Brothers, New York City, New York.

_Real Thing, The_—John Kendrick Bangs. Characters, Two Male,
Five Female. Publisher, Harper and Brothers, New York City, New
York.

_Riders to the Sea_—J. M. Synge. Characters, One Male, Three
Female. Publisher, John W. Luce, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Rising of the Moon, The_—Lady Gregory. Characters, Four Male.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Sam Average_—Percy Mackaye. Characters, Three Male, One
Female. Publisher, Duffield and Company, New York City, New
York.

_Side Show, The_—John Kendrick Bangs. Characters, Six Male,
Four Female. Publisher, Harper and Brothers, New York City, New
York.

_Silent System, The_—A. Dreyfus. Characters, One Male, One
Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil_—Stuart Walker.
Characters, Seven Male, Two Female. Publisher, Little, Brown
and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Spreading the News_—Lady Gregory. Characters, Seven Male,
Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Sunbonnets_—Marian D. Campbell. Characters, Eleven Female.
Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Sunset_—Jerome K. Jerome. Characters, Three Male, Three
Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_Suppressed Desires_—George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell.
Characters, One Male, Two Female. Publisher, Plays by Susan
Glaspell, Small, Maynard and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Swan Song, The_—Anton Tchekoff. Characters, Two Male.
Publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York City, New York.

_Teeth of the Gift Horse, The_—Margaret Cameron. Characters,
Two Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Three Pills in a Bottle_—Rachel L. Field. Characters, Five
Male, Three Female. Publisher, Plays 47 Workshop, Brentano’s,
New York City, New York.

_Tickets, Please_—Irving Dale. Characters, Four Female.
Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Tradition_—George Middleton. Characters, One Male, Two Female.
Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Traveling Man, The_—Lady Gregory. Characters, One Male, One
Female, One Child. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Trifles_—Susan Glaspell. Characters, Three Male, Two Female.
Publisher, Frank Shay, New York City, New York.

_Washington’s First Defeat_—Charles Nirdlinger. Characters, One
Male, Two Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Waterloo_—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Characters, Three Male, One
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Which Is Which_—H. Theyre Smith. Characters, Three Male, Three
Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_Wire Entanglement, A_—Robert Mantell. Characters, Two Male,
Two Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Workhouse Ward, The_—Lady Gregory. Characters, Two Male, One
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Zone Police, The_—Richard Harding Davis. Characters, Four
Male. Publisher, Charles Scribner and Sons, New York City, New
York.

SUGGESTED LIST OF PLAYS—MORE THAN ONE ACT

_Abraham Lincoln_—John Drinkwater. Characters, Thirty-three
Male, Eight Female. Publisher, Houghton, Mifflin Company, New
York City, New York.

_Admirable Crichton, The_—J. M. Barrie. Four Acts. Characters,
Seven Male, Seven Female. Publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons,
New York City, New York.

_Adventure of Lady Ursula, The_—Anthony Hope. Four Acts.
Characters, Twelve Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel
French, New York City, New York.

_Alabama_—Augustus Thomas. Four Acts. Characters, Eight Male,
Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Alice-Sit-By-The-Fire_—J. M. Barrie. Three Acts. Characters,
Four Male, Five Female. Publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New
York City, New York.

_All-Of-A-Sudden-Peggy_—Ernest Denny. Three Acts. Characters,
Five Male, Five Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Amazons, The_—Arthur Pinero. Three Acts. Characters, Seven
Male, Five Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Anti-Matrimony_—Percy Mackaye. Four Acts. Characters, Two
Male, Three Female. Publisher, Doubleday, Page and Company, New
York City, New York.

_Arrival of Kitty, The_—Norman Lee Swartout. Three Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker
and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Arrow Maker’s Daughter, The_—Grace E. Smith and Gertrude
Nevils. Two Acts. Characters, Six Male, Seven Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Arrow Maker, The_—Mary Austin. Characters, Eight Male, Nine
Female. Publisher, Duffield and Company, New York City, New
York.

_As You Like It_—William Shakespeare. Five Acts. Characters,
Sixteen Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Bachelors’ Romance, A_—Martha Morton. Four Acts. Characters,
Seven Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Back to the Farm_—Merline H. Shumway. Three Acts. Characters,
Six Male, Four Female. Publisher, University of Minnesota,
Agricultural Extension Division, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

_Barbara Frietchie_—Clyde Fitch. Four Acts. Characters,
Thirteen Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Bee in a Drone’s Hive, A_—Cecil Baker. Two Acts. Characters,
Nine Male, Five Female. Publisher, The Little Country Theater,
North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo, North Dakota.

_Beyond the Horizon_—Eugene O’Neill. Three Acts. Characters,
Six Male, Four Female. Publisher, Boni and Liveright, New York
City, New York.

_Bob, Mr._—Rachel E. Baker. Two Acts. Characters, Three Male,
Four Female. Publisher, Eldridge Entertainment House, Franklin,
Ohio.

_Breezy Point_—B. M. Locke. Three Acts. Characters, Thirteen
Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker and Company, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Brown Mouse, The_—Mabel B. Stevenson, adapted from the Novel
by Herbert Quick. Four Acts. Characters, Ten Male, Five Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Cabinet Minister, The_—A. W. Pinero. Four Acts. Characters,
Ten Male, Nine Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Captain Rackett_—Charles Townsend. Three Acts. Characters,
Five Male, Three Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Chinese, Lantern, The_—Lawrence Housman. Three Acts.
Characters, Six Male, Two Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New
York City, New York.

_Clarence_—Booth Tarkington. Four Acts. Characters, Five Male,
Five Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Christopher Columbus_—Alice Johnstone Walker. Four Acts.
Characters, Eighteen Male, Two Female. Publisher, Henry Holt
and Company, New York City, New York.

_College Widow, The_—George Ade. Four Acts. Characters, Fifteen
Male, Ten Female. Publisher, Sanger and Jordan, New York City,
New York.

_County Chairman, The_—George Ade. Four Acts. Characters,
Sixteen Male, Six Female. Publisher, Sanger and Jordan, New
York City, New York.

_Cousin Kate_—H. H. Davies. Three Acts. Characters, Three Male,
Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker and Company, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Country-Side, The_—Harry Hagerott. Three Acts. Characters,
Eight Male, Three Female. Publisher, The Little Country
Theater, North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo, North Dakota.

_Cricket on the Hearth_—Charles Dickens. Three Acts.
Characters, Seven Male, Eight Female. Publisher, The Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Cupid at Vassar_—Owen Davis. Four Acts. Characters, Twelve
Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago,
Illinois.

_David Garrick_—T. W. Robertson. Three Acts. Characters, Eight
Male, Three Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_David Harum_—Eugene Noyes Westcott. Three Acts. Characters,
Eight Male, Three Female. Publisher, Charles Frohman Company,
New York City, New York.

_Doll’s House, The_—H. Ibsen. Three Acts. Characters, Three
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Engaged_—W. S. Gilbert. Three Acts. Characters, Five Male,
Three Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Esmeralda_—Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett and William Gillette.
Three Acts. Characters, Ten Male, Five Female. Publisher,
Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Every Ship Will Find a Harbor_—Albert C. Heine. Three Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Little
Country Theater, North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo,
North Dakota.

_Farmerette, The_—Evelyn Gray Whiting. Three Acts. Characters,
Seven Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Fortune Hunter, The_—Winchell Smith. Four Acts. Characters,
Seventeen Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New
York City, New York.

_Girl With the Green Eyes, The_—Clyde Fitch. Four Acts.
Characters, Ten Male, Seven Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Great Divide, The_—William Vaughn Moody. Three Acts.
Characters, Eleven Male, Three Female. Publisher, Sanger and
Jordan, New York City, New York.

_Green Stockings_—A. E. W. Mason. Three Acts. Characters, Seven
Male, Five Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Hadda Padda_—Godmundur Kamban. Four Acts. Characters, Nine
Male, Seven Female. Publisher, Alfred Knopf, New York City, New
York.

_Hazel Kirke_—Steele Mackaye. Four Acts. Characters, Nine Male,
Five Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Her Husband’s Wife_—A. E. Thomas. Three Acts. Characters,
Three Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Hick’ry Farm_—Edwin M. Stern. Two Acts. Characters, Six
Male, Two Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Hour Glass, The_—William Butler Yeates. Characters, Four Male,
Two Female, Two Children. Publisher, The Macmillan Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_House Next Door, The_—J. H. Manners. Three Acts. Characters,
Eight Male, Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Hurry, Hurry, Hurry_—Leroy Arnold. Three Acts. Characters, Six
Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Importance of Being Earnest, The_—Oscar Wilde. Three Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_It Pays to Advertise_—Roi Cooper Megrue and Walter Hackett.
Three Acts. Characters, Eight Male, Four Female. Publisher,
Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Kindling_—Charles Kenyon. Three Acts. Characters, Six Male,
Four Female. Publisher, Doubleday, Page and Company, New York
City, New York.

_Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree, The_—Stuart Walker. Three
Acts. Characters, Six. Publisher, Stewart and Kidd Company,
Cincinnati, Ohio.

_Lady Windermere’s Fan_—Oscar Wilde. Four Acts. Characters,
Seven Male, Eight Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Leonarda_—Björnstjerne Björnson. Four Acts. Characters, Six
Male, Six Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Little Minister, The_—J. M. Barrie. Four Acts. Characters,
Eleven Male, Five Female. Publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons,
New York City, New York.

_Little Women_—Marian De Forest, adapted from Story by Louisa
M. Alcott. Four Acts. Characters, Five Male, Seven Female.
Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Lion and the Mouse, The_—Charles Klein. Four Acts. Characters,
Ten Male, Eight Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Lonelyville Social Club_—W. C. Parker. Three Acts. Characters,
Ten Female. Publisher, Eldridge Entertainment House, Franklin,
Ohio

_Man from Home, The_—Booth Tarkington. Four Acts. Characters,
Ten Male, Three Female. Publisher, Sanger and Jordan, New York
City, New York.

_Man of the Hour_—George Broadhurst. Four Acts. Characters,
Thirteen Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Man Without a Country, The_—Elizabeth McFadden and A.
Crimmins. Three Acts. Characters, Twenty-three Male, Two
Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Melting Pot, The_—Israel Zangwill. Four Acts. Characters, Five
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Sanger and Jordan, New York City,
New York.

_Mice and Men_—Madeline Lucette Ryley. Four Acts. Characters,
Six Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Milestones_—A. Bennett and E. Knoblauch. Three Acts.
Characters, Nine Male, Six Female. Publisher, George H. Doran,
New York City, New York.

_Miss Hobbs_—Jerome K. Jerome. Four Acts. Characters, Five
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City, New
York.

_Miss Lulu Bett_—Zona Gale. Three Acts. Eight Characters.
Publisher, Zona Gale, Portage, Wisconsin.

_Mrs. Bumpstead-Leigh_—Harry James Smith. Three Acts.
Characters, Six Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New
York City, New York.

_Mrs. Temple’s Telegram_—Frank Wyatt and William Morris. Three
Acts. Characters, Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel
French, New York City, New York.

_Much Ado About Nothing_—William Shakespeare. Two Acts.
Characters, Eight Male, Three Female. Publisher, Walter H.
Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Nathan Hale_—Clyde Fitch. Four Acts. Characters, Twelve Male,
Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_New Country Woman, The_—Lillian Rolle. Four Acts. Characters,
Six Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Little Country Theater,
North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo, North Dakota.

_New York Idea, The_—Langdon Mitchell. Four Acts. Characters,
Nine Male, Six Female. Publisher, Walter Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Nothing but the Truth_—James Montgomery. Three Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Officer 666_—Augustin MacHugh. Three Acts. Characters, Eight
Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Our Boys_—Henry J. Bryon. Three Acts. Characters, Six Male,
Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Pair of Spectacles, A_—Sydney Grundy. Three Acts. Characters,
Seven Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Peg O’ My Heart_—J. Hartley Manners. Three Acts. Characters,
Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Pillars of Society, The_—H. Ibsen. Four Acts. Characters,
Ten Male, Nine Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Pomander Walk_—Louis N. Parker. Three Acts. Characters, Ten
Male, Eight Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York City,
New York.

_Private Secretary, The_—Charles Hawtrey. Three Acts.
Characters, Nine Male, Four Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Professor’s Love Story, The_—J. M. Barrie. Three Acts.
Characters, Seven Male, Five Female. Publisher, Chicago
Manuscript Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Prunella_—Lawrence Housman and Granville Barker. Three Acts.
Characters, Eleven Male, One Female. Publisher, Little, Brown
and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Pygmalion and Galatea_—W. S. Gilbert. Three Acts. Characters,
Four Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Quality Street_—J. M. Barrie. Four Acts. Characters, Seven
Male, Six Female. Publisher, Sanger and Jordan, New York City,
New York.

_Raindrops, The_—M. Thorfinnson and Eggert V. Briem. Four Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Three Female. Publisher, The Little
Country Theater, North Dakota Agricultural College, Fargo,
North Dakota.

_Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The_—Anne Warner. Three Acts.
Characters, Seven Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Rip Van Winkle_—Charles Burke. Two Acts. Characters, Eleven
Male, Three Female, One Child. Publisher, The Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Rivals, The_—R. B. Sheridan. Five Acts. Characters, Eight
Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Romancers, The_—Edmond Rostand. Three Acts. Characters,
Five Male, One Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Rose O’ Plymouth Town_—Beulah Marie Dix and Evelyn G.
Sutherland. Four Acts. Characters, Four Male, Four Female.
Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Russian Honeymoon, A_—Eugene Scribe. Three Acts. Characters,
Four Male, Three Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Sanctuary—A Bird Masque_—Percy Mackaye. Characters, Four Male,
Twenty-two Female. Publisher, Frederick A. Stokes, New York
City, New York.

_School for Scandal_—Richard B. Sheridan. Five Acts.
Characters, Thirteen Male, Four Female. Publisher, Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Scrap of Paper, A_—J, Palgrave Simpson. Three Acts.
Characters, Six Male, Six Female. Publisher, The Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Servant in the House, The_—Charles Rann Kennedy. Five Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Two Female. Publisher, Harper and
Brothers, New York City, New York.

_She Stoops to Conquer_—Oliver Goldsmith. Five Acts.
Characters, Sixteen Male, Four Female. Publisher, The Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Silas, the Chore Boy_—Frank Bernard. Three Acts. Characters,
Six Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Sitting Bull—Custer_—Aaron McGaffey Beede. Characters, Nine
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Bismarck _Tribune_, Bismarck,
North Dakota.

_Shore Acres_—James Herne. Four Acts. Characters, Ten Male,
Eight Female. Publisher, Charles Frohman Company, New York
City, New York.

_Sweethearts_—W. S. Gilbert. Two Acts. Characters, Two Male,
Two Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Taming of the Shrew_—William Shakespeare. Three Acts.
Characters, Fifteen Male, Three Female. Publisher, Walter H.
Baker, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Tempest, The_—William Shakespeare. Five Acts. Characters, Five
Male, Seven Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing Company,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Three Hats, The_—A. Shirley. Three Acts. Characters, Five
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Thousand Years Ago, A_—Percy Mackaye. Four Acts. Characters,
Nine Male, Two Female. Publisher, Doubleday, Page Company, New
York City, New York.

_Toastmaster_—Norman Lee Swartout. Three Acts. Characters,
Eight Male, Two Female. Publisher, The Dramatic Publishing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Trelawney of the Wells_—Arthur W. Pinero. Four Acts.
Characters, Ten Male, Eight Female. Publisher, The Dramatic
Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Twelfth Night_—William Shakespeare. Five Acts. Characters,
Ten Male, Three Female. Publisher, Walter H. Baker, Boston,
Massachusetts.

_Valley Farm_—A. L. Tubbs. Four Acts. Characters, Six Male, Six
Female. Publisher, T. S. Denison and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Washington, the Man Who Made Us_—Percy Mackaye. Three Acts.
Characters, Sixty-six Male, Ten Female. Publisher, Alfred A.
Knopf, New York City, New York.

_What Every Woman Knows_—J. M. Barrie. Four Acts. Characters,
Five Male, Four Female. Publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New
York City, New York.

_What Happened to Jones_—George Broadhurst. Three Acts.
Characters, Seven Male, Six Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

_Witching Hour, The_—Augustus Thomas. Three Acts. Characters,
Twelve Male, Three Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_You Never Can Tell_—Bernard Shaw. Four Acts. Characters, Six
Male, Four Female. Publisher, Brentano’s, New York City, New
York.

_When We Were Twenty-One_—H. V. Esmond. Four Acts. Characters,
Nine Male, Five Female. Publisher, Samuel French, New York
City, New York.

_Why Smith Left Home_—George Broadhurst. Three Acts.
Characters, Five Male, Seven Female. Publisher, Samuel French,
New York City, New York.

PRESENTATION OF PLAYS

COSTUMES

_Bankside Costume Book for Children_—Melicent Stone. Publisher,
Saalfield Publishing Company, New York City, New York.

_Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs_—Constance Mackay.
Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Costumes for Bazaars and Masquerades._ Publisher, The Ladies’
Home Journal, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

_Costumes in England_—F. W. Fairholt. Publisher, Macmillan
Company, New York City, New York.

_Dennison’s Costume Book._ Publisher, Dennison Manufacturing
Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Flower Children_—Elizabeth Gordon. Publisher, P. F. Volland
Company, New York City, New York.

_Historic Dress in America_—Elizabeth McClellan. Publisher, G.
W. Jacobs and Company, New York City, New York.

_History of British Costume_—J. R. Planche. Publisher, G. Bell
and Sons, Ltd., London, England.

_Meadowgold._ Publisher, Extension Division, University of
Wisconsin, Madison, Wisconsin.

_Mother Earth’s Children_—Elizabeth Gordon. Publisher, P. F.
Volland and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Practical Hints on Stage Costumes_—Cyril Bowen. Publisher,
Samuel French, New York City, New York.

_Two Centuries of Costume in America_—Alice Morse Earle.
Publisher, Macmillan and Company, New York City, New York.

MAKE-UP

_Art of Theatrical Make-Up, The_—Cavendish Morton. Publisher,
Adams and Charles Black, London, England.

_Brief Make-Up Guide_—Eben H. Norris. Publisher, T. S. Denison,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Hageman’s Make Up Book_—Maurice Hageman. Publisher, The
Dramatic Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Making Up_—James Young. Publisher, M. Witmark and Sons, New
York City, New York.

PRODUCTION

_American Pageantry_—Ralph Davol. Publisher, Davol Publishing
Company, Taunton, Massachusetts.

_Community Drama and Pageantry_—Mary Porter Beegle and Jack
Randall Crawford. Publisher, Yale University Press, New Haven,
Connecticut.

_Festivals and Plays_—Percival Chubb and Associates. Publisher,
Harper and Brothers, New York City, New York.

_How to Produce Amateur Plays_—Barrett H. Clark. Publisher,
Little, Brown and Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_How to Produce Children’s Plays_—Constance D’Arcy Mackay.
Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_How to Stage a Play_—Harry Osborne. Publisher, T. S. Denison
and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Modern Theater Construction_—Edward Bernard Kinsila.
Publisher, Chalmers Publishing Company, New York City, New York.

_Open Air Theater, The_—Sheldon Cheney. Publisher, Mitchell
Kennerley, New York City, New York.

_Play Production in America_—Arthur Edwin Krows. Publisher,
Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Practical Stage Directing for Amateurs_—Emerson Taylor.
Publisher, E. P. Dutton and Company, New York City, New York.

_Producing Amateur Entertainments_—Helen Ferris. Publisher, E.
P. Dutton and Company, New York City, New York.

_Shakespeare for Community Players_—Roy Mitchell. Publisher, E.
P. Dutton and Company, New York City, New York.

SCENIC EFFECTS—STAGE DEVICES—LIGHTING

_Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs_—Constance Mackay.
Publisher, Henry Holt and Company, New York City, New York.

_Electric Stage Lighting Apparatus and Effects_—Kliegel
Brothers. Publisher, Kliegel Brothers, New York City, New York.

_Secrets of Scene Painting and Stage Effects_—Van Dyke Browne.
Publisher, E. P. Dutton and Company, New York City, New York.

_Theatrical Stage Rigging_—J. R. Clancy. Publisher, J. R.
Clancy, Syracuse, New York.

PROMOTION OF PLAYS

NEWSPAPERS

_Country Weekly, The_—Phil C. Bing. Publisher, D. Appleton and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Editorial, The_—Leon Nelson Flint. Publisher, D. Appleton and
Company, New York City, New York.

_Essentials in Journalism_—H. F. Harrington and T. T.
Frankenberg. Publisher, Ginn and Company, New York City, New
York.

_How to Write Special Feature Articles_—Willard G. Bleyer.
Publisher, Houghton, Mifflin Company, New York City, New York.

_Making Type Work_—Benjamin Sherbow. Publisher, The Century
Company, New York City, New York.

_Newspaper Reporting and Correspondence_—Grant M. Hyde.
Publisher, D. Appleton and Company, New York City, New York.

_Newspaper Writing and Editing_—Willard G. Bleyer. Publisher,
Houghton, Mifflin Company, New York City, New York.

_Principles of Advertising, The_—Tipper, Hollingworth,
Hotchkiss, Parsons. Publisher, The Ronald Press Company, New
York City, New York.

_Types of News Writing_—Willard G. Bleyer. Publisher,
Houghton, Mifflin Company, New York City, New York.

_Typical Newspaper Stories_—H. F. Harrington. Publisher, Ginn
and Company, New York City, New York.

POSTERS

_Art of Sign Painting, The_—Frank Atkinson. Publisher,
Frederick J. Drake and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_“A Show At” Shocards_—F. H. Atkinson and G. W. Atkinson.
Publisher, Frederick J. Drake and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Letters and Lettering_—Frank Chouteau Brown. Publisher, Bates
and Guild Company, Boston, Massachusetts.

_Modern Painters’ Cyclopedia, The_—F. Maire. Publisher,
Frederick J. Drake and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

_Poster, The_—Publisher, Poster Advertising Association,
Chicago, Illinois.

_Practical Publicity_—Truman A. De Weese. Publisher, George W.
Jacobs and Company, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

_Signists’ Modern Book of Alphabets, The_—F. Delamotte.
Publisher, Frederick J. Drake and Company, Chicago, Illinois.

APPENDIX B

GLOSSARY OF STAGE TERMS

_Arch_—Doorway or archway in section of scenery.

_Act_—Division of play.

_At Rise_—Beginning of play or act.

_Back Stage_—Portion back of visible stage.

_Back Drop_—Large curtain hanging at rear of stage showing a
landscape, garden or woods.

_Borders_—Section of different colored cloths or scenery
hanging at intervals from above. Usually represents sky,
ceiling or branches of trees.

_Border Lights_—Rows of lights in tin troughs suspended from
ceiling used to illuminate stage.

_Brace_—Support, usually slender pole to keep scenery in place.

_Bunch Lights_—Groups of lights on movable standards.

_Business Manager_—Person who looks after finances of
production, promotes advertising campaign, sells and takes
tickets, etc.

_Comedy_—A play light and amusing, having a happy ending.

_Costume_—A character dress of a particular period or locality
worn in a play.

_Cue_—Last words of a speech indicating time for next actor to
begin.

_Cross_—To move from one side of the stage to the other side.

_Dimmer_—Electrical device to regulate quantity of light on
stage.

_Drops_—Curtains or pieces of scenery extending height and
whole width of stage.

_Down_—Down stage means direction of audience.

_Discovered_—In person on stage at beginning of play or act.

_Drama_—A composition intended to portray life or character to
be performed on stage.

_Farce_—A light, somewhat ridiculous play usually short.

_Festival_—A periodical season of entertainment embracing
pageantry, drama, music and dancing.

_Footlights_—Illumination on front of stage floor.

_Front_—Part of stage nearest audience.

_Lash Line_—Rope used to hold sections of scenery together.

_Left_—Actor’s left on stage when facing audience.

_Music Plot_—Brief statement of incidental music in play.

_Off_—Away from visible stage.

_On_—On stage.

_Pantomime_—A dramatic performance where words are not used—a
dumb show.

_Pageant_—An outdoor spectacle or play of large proportions.

_Pastoral Play_—A drama describing rural life.

_Prompter_—One who reminds actor of parts forgotten.

_Property Man_—One who looks after properties in play.

_Puppet Show_—A small image in human form play.

_Properties_—Articles used in play.

_Proscenium_—Arch framing the stage where front curtain hangs.

_Run_—Portion of stage leading to visible part.

_Set Piece_—A structure built on stage like tree, wall or
cottage.

_Set_—Scenery for certain act in play.

_Scene_—Subdivision of play or act in play.

_Stage-Manager_—One who looks after arrangement of stage
scenery for a play.

_Spotlight_—Light aimed at certain section of stage.

_Tableau_—Representation of some scene by grouping of people.

_Tormentors_—Passages near proscenium opening.

_Trap_—Hole in stage floor.

_Tragedy_—A dramatic composition having an unhappy ending.

_Up_—Toward rear of stage.

_Upstage_—Part of stage farthest away from audience.

APPENDIX C

OPEN AIR THEATERS—STADIUMS

Greek Theater, University of California, Berkeley, California, The
Crescent—El Zagal Park, Fargo, North Dakota—The Harvard Stadium, Harvard
University, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

[Illustration: The Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley,
California]

[Illustration: “The Crescent,” one of America’s Largest Open Air
Theaters, El Zagal Park, Fargo, North Dakota]

[Illustration: The Stadium, Harvard University]

[Illustration: The Interior of the Stadium, Harvard University]

APPENDIX D

RURAL COMMUNITY CENTER—TYPES OF COMMUNITY BUILDINGS

Rural Community Center, Rusk Farm—Community House, Leeland, Texas—Village
Hall, Wyoming, New York—Community Building and Floor Plan—Auditorium,
Hendrum, Minnesota.

[Illustration: Rural Community Center Plan, Rusk Farm, Wisconsin

_Courtesy of Ben Faast_]

[Illustration: Community House, Leeland, Texas]

[Illustration: Village Hall, Wyoming, New York]

[Illustration: Typical Community Building

Drawn by Sander Anderson.

Seating capacity four hundred]

[Illustration: Auditorium, Hendrum, Minnesota]

APPENDIX E

STAGE DESIGNS

[Illustration: DRAW CURTAIN—CAN BE USED ANYWHERE]

[Illustration: DIAGRAM SHOWING SCENE FRAME]

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The little country theater" ***

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