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    Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts
    Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts
    Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts
    Ebook128 pages59 minutes

    Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts

    By George M. Baker

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    About this ebook

    "Nevada or The Lost Mine" is a play in three acts by George M. Baker. It tells about the life and adventures of gold miners in the times of the Golden Rush. The main character of the play is Nevada, the wanderer from the distant lands that come to a miner settlement to change its life.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 19, 2019
    ISBN4064066137823
    Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts

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      Book preview

      Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts - George M. Baker

      George M. Baker

      Nevada; or, The Lost Mine, A Drama in Three Acts

      Published by Good Press, 2019

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4064066137823

      Table of Contents

      Act I. — Wooded and rocky flat; inclined run R. , masked by rocks, leading up from a rocky platform C. ; door and part of a log cabin, L. , creepers and vines running over it, rocks and foliage; L. mask the remainder; R. rocks and foliage, rock for a seat R. , near 2 entrance. Stump for a seat L. , between platform and door; on rock masking run R. in large white letters, Busted's Balm to which with paint-pail in left hand, and brush in right, Silas Steele is discovered giving a finishing touch. Silas sings ,—

      Act II. — Interior of Vermont's cabin of rough logs, door C. , window with swinging shutter L. C. mountain, wood and rocks as in Act I. ; fireplace R. , with fire; stool near. Table L. C. , with stools R. and L. of it. Bench R. , near first entrance, on which Dick is discovered asleep, covered with a blanket. Jerden sitting R. of table watching Dick ; Win-Kye at window, looking in; candle burning on table. Lights down.

      Act III. — Same as Act I . — Win-Kye enters down run, carrying paint-pail in one hand, brush in other.

      Act I.

      —Wooded and rocky flat; inclined run R., masked by rocks, leading up from a rocky platform C.; door and part of a log cabin, L., creepers and vines running over it, rocks and foliage; L. mask the remainder; R. rocks and foliage, rock for a seat R., near 2 entrance. Stump for a seat L., between platform and door; on rock masking run R. in large white letters, Busted's Balm to which with paint-pail in left hand, and brush in right,

      Silas Steele

      is discovered giving a finishing touch.

      Silas

      sings—

      Table of Contents

      Oh! here's to good old Busted,

      Write him down;

      Oh! here's to good old Busted,

      Write him down;

      Oh! here's to good old Busted,

      For his balm is always trusted:

      Write him down, write him down, write him down.

      (Stands off, and looks at his work.) Again the missionary of health plants his victorious banner on a giant bowlder, that shall forever point the westward hoers to the fountain of health. (Sets down pail, and looks at his hands.) A fountain of water would be more to my taste just now: the handle of that pail is in a bad condition, but I'll fix it. (Takes a newspaper from his pocket, and wraps it round handle while speaking.) Big scheme of Busted to spread his balm all over the continent, from Switcham, Vt., to the top of the Sierra Nevadas. Such outward applications of the infallible awaken curiosity, curiosity stirs the sluggish brain to action, the active brain arouses the torpid system, and health re-animates the sinking frame. For further particulars see small bills. That M's a little shaky; I'll touch it up a little, or some of these hardy miners will take it for a bad spell: and, being so choice in their language, that would never do. (Works with brush. Sings)—

      Oh! here's to good old Busted.

      (Enter from cabin

      Mother Merton

      , with broom.)

      Mother.

      Who on earth is that howling?

      Silas

      (sings)—

      Write him down,

      Mother.

      A stranger! What's he doing to that rock?

      Silas

      (sings)—

      Oh! here's to good old Busted.

      Mother.

      Busted! I do believe he's trying to blast it right before my door—blow us all up. (Brings broom down on his back smartly.) Here, stop that!

      Silas

      (turning, and presenting brush like a pistol). Look out for paint. (

      Mother

      steps back.) I beg your pardon; but, if there is any thing in my personal appearance that leads you to suspect my jacket needs dusting, a gentler application of the duster might save the dustor some strength, and the dusteed much wind. Hang it! you nearly took away my breath.

      Mother.

      Served you right. Who are you? Where did you come from? What's that daub?

      Silas

      (aside). Daub! shade of Michael Angelo! (Aloud.) Madam, I am a missionary.

      Mother.

      Good gracious! A parson. Why didn't you say so before? Settled?

      Silas.

      No. (Rubs shoulders.) I thought I was just now.

      Mother.

      Where do you hail from, parson?

      Silas.

      Switcham, Vt. That answers your second interrogatory. The third I will save you the trouble of repeating by announcing the fact that the daub, as you are pleased to call my etching, is the good tidings I am ordained to proclaim. That's one of my sermons; and sermons in stones, though not original with me, have at least the merit of brevity to recommend them.

      Mother.

      Busted's Balm. Are you Busted?

      Silas.

      No; but I shall be if you ask any more questions.

      Mother.

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