Daniel Cronin Master Carpenter
Mr. Charles Miller Properties

* * * * *

CAST.

As given at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, New York, on Monday Evening,
September 4, 1893.

JIM RADBURN Mr. Nat C. Goodwin.
ROBERT TRAVERS Mr. Emmett Corrigan.
JO VERNON Mr. Burr McIntosh.
COLONEL BOLLINGER Mr. William G. Beach.
BILL SARBER Mr. Robert G. Wilson.
SAM FOWLER Mr. Arthur Hoops.
DAVE Mr. Louis Payne.
ESROM Mr. J.W. McAndrews.
KELLY Mr. Louis Barrett.
CAL Mr. Charles Miller.
MRS. JO VERNON Mrs. Jean Clara Walters.
'LIZBETH VERNON Miss Minnie Dupree.
EM'LY RADBURN Miss Mae E. Wood.
KATE VERNON Miss Mabel Amber.

IN MIZZOURA.

ACT I.

_Music at rise of curtain. The old "Forty-nine" tune, "My name is Joe
Bowers."_

SCENE: _Pike Co., dining-room, living-room and kitchen combined. A
line of broken plaster and unmatched wall-papers marks the ceiling and
back flat a little left of center. Doors right and left in 3. Door in
right flat. Old-fashioned table. Dresser, low window with many panes,
window-sash sliding horizontally--outside of door is pan of leaves
burning to smoke off mosquitoes._

DISCOVERED: MRS. VERNON _and_ LIZBETH. MRS. VERNON _ironing;_ LIZBETH
_at pan of fire._

MRS. VERNON. Lizbeth!

LIZBETH. Ma--?

MRS. VERNON. Move that pan a little furder off. The smoke's a
durnation sight worse'n the skeeters.

LIZBETH. [_Rising and coming in._] Well, we couldn't sleep fur 'em
last night, and it's just as well to smoke 'em good.

MRS. VERNON. But such an all fired smell--what're you burnin'?

LIZBETH. Dog fannel--

MRS. VERNON. I thought so. It's nearly turned my stomich--come, hurry
with this ironin' now.

LIZBETH. [_Coming down right of table._] Let's leave it till mornin',
ma--

MRS. VERNON. Can't, Lizbeth, it's bin put off since Wednesday, an' the
furst thing we know we'll be havin' it to do Sunday--get me another
iron. [LIZBETH _goes left_.] I'm reg'lar tuckered out.

LIZBETH. Me too. [_Sound of sledge hammer from door left._ LIZBETH
_exits._

MRS. VERNON _sits on rocker and fans herself with frayed-out palm
leaf._

MRS. VERNON. Lor'--to think o' this wea