Picture

The Masque of Marsh and River
By Howard Mumford Jones
The scene is a level sward, back of which rises a
gently-sloping hill. There are plenty of trees around
the rim of the stage, though at the bottom of the hill, the
stage proper, there is a smooth expanse of grass where
the dancing takes place. As if to give the suggestion of
the bluff country, the right is strewn with outcropping
lime-stone boulders. A ledge of red and yellow sand-
tone is visible in the hill-side. The dancing and most
of the action take place on the cleared space at the foot
of the hill.
The stage is at first perfectly dark; then a glow begins
to illuminate it heralded by a trumpet call, thrice repeated.
This glow continues to increase until a clear,
hard light spreads over the scene.
A black touring-car rolls on the scene from the right.
In it are Mr. and Mrs. Kelsey, Mr. Worthington,
and Edith Worthington. Worthington is driving.
He stops the machine, lets the others out, runs it
across the stage, turns around outside, and comes back,
stopping so that the hood of the car is just visible on
the left. He returns to the others.
Worthington
Well, here we are.
Kelsey
Yes, here's where I intend
To build. The railroad spur will run across
That marsh in a long curve and bring your freight
Right to the factory doors.
Worthington
And all this land Is for the plant?
Kelsey
Quite right - you'll understand
The timber all comes down.
Mrs. Kelsey (Who has been talking in an undertone
with Edith, turns)
Not all the trees
Henry, our lovely grove of maple and elm?
Kelsey
Why not, my dear? You can't make shoes from
timber!
The property's a burden as it stands,
And if John wants it -
Mrs. Kelsey
Henry, can't we keep
A corner of it? It's so pretty now.
Besides, where will we go for picnics?
Edith (To Worthington)
Oh,
We have had such good times here. Build somewhere
else,
Father, be nice this once!

Worthington
There, there. Don't get
Too sentimental, Edith. It will be
A long time yet before we build - a year
At least.
Mrs. Kelsey (Despairingly turns away)
There, Edith, it's no use.
Kelsey (Uneasily)
Now, mother! We'll go abroad on rent from Worthington,
Won't that be just as good?
Mrs. Kelsey (Unconvinced)
Yes - but these trees -
Edith comes up to her, and they walk up right, talking.
Worthington
That fill across the marsh - won't that be just
A bit expensive?
Kelsey
No, John, I've arranged
For that. I own a quarry in those bluffs
Close by the railroad track I drop my stone
Over the cliff, the work-trains pick it up
And - there you are.
Worthington
That's good.
Edith (To Mrs. Kelsey)
Do you not hear
A kind of stifled singing in the air,
Or are my ears at fault?
Mrs. Kelsey
It is the frogs or wind in the treetops.
Kelsey
What's the matter, mother?
Mrs. Kelsey
Nothing. Edith -
Edith
I thought I heard a voice
Singing far off, but doubtless I am wrong
(Listening)
And yet -
Mrs. Kelsey
What's that?
Worthington
It is a voice.
Mrs. Kelsey
Henry!

Edith
Father!
The stage is suddenly in total darkness. A mysterious
humming is heard from the orchestra, growling
louder as a soft, moonlight glow increases on the scene.
When the stage is fully illuminated by this glow, the
orchestra is playing a jubilant fairy march. The music
at its height, the Spirit of June appears at the top
of the hill, full and beautiful in the moonlight. As she
slowly and gracefully descends, HIDDEN VOICES are
heard singing:
Tonight the woods have tongue again,
Tonight the streams are free. And all the world grows young again,
And bird and leafy tree.
Hearing the old runes sung again,
Shall join - shall join
Our forest minstrelsy!
Spirit of June (Sings)
For as I came
By river and hill,
By marsh and meadow,
Soft as shadow
I touched with flame
The lips that were still.
And wind and shower,
The tongued trees,
The dewy grasses
In starlit passes,
Anemones,
And the blue May-flower,
Came trooping after
My magic feet.
They follow, they follow
To this green hollow
With whisperings sweet
And shy, soft laughter.
We hold this night
Revel and dances
In the moon and starlight
In this -
She breaks off, catching sight of the huddled group
of mortals held speechless by a charm.
Spirit of June (Speaks)
Who are ye that dare trespass these our haunts,
What time the Stars hide and the maiden moon
Walks in a silver veil with sweet, shut eye
Mist-blinded to our woodland pageantry?
They do not answer
I bid ye answer.
They are still silent.
Speak or I will call
From each gnarled oak and mantled, marshy pool,
Each rotting stump or fallen post, each stone,
Owl-haunted wood or graveyard thick with weed,
Legions of bats, frogs, beetles, tree-toads, snakes
To sting or bite or with their slimy mouths
To spume their spotty pestilences on ye!

She gets no response and so begins to chant an incantation
By the power
Of this hour
When the stars are all in flower,
Frog and toad and worm of night
In the graveyard grass a-light,
Bat that circles in the moon,
Come quick, come soon!
Work is near!
Answer, answer if ye hear!
Bullfrogs (From the marsh)
Brum-Brum!
We come!
When was bull-frog ever dumb?
Basses off stage
Treetoads (From the trees)
Trill, Trill!
Sharp, shrill
Sound our trumpets at thy will!
Sopranos off stage
Glow-Worms (From the grass)
Shine! Shine!
Elfin fine
Lamps to light the woods are thine.
Altos off stage
Bats (From the air)
Flit, flit!
Stop nor sit
Till the spies are pinched and bit!
Tenors off stage
Spirit of June (Continuing the charm)
Snakes and toads and spotty things,
Owl that flies on ghostly wings,
Bug and -
Again she breaks off, this time at the approach of
Father Grandad over the hill. He comes in a blaze
of crimson light, to the sound of Indian music, with a
body-guard of Indian warriors.
Spirit of June
Hail, Father Grandad!
The body-guard of Indians opens fan-wise on the
hill-side, and Father Grandad walks forward
Grandad
Hail! - Who calls us thus
By our familiar name? - 'Tis June, quaint June,
June of the emerald dress and dearest eyes
Blue as deep, sunlit lakes in summer woods!
Well met, dear daughter June! - Thou merry wag
Who skipp'st down our old sides with dancing feet,
Ticking our ancient ribs until we smile
In myriads of flowers!
Spirit of June (Reproachfully)
Father!

Grandad (Chuckling)
Lass!
I do forget you're now - how many summers
Is't you are? Quite a grown woman, June,
And yet I dandled you upon my knees
Not long ago and at your baby glee
Peeped out for every smile a snow-drop Then
You sometimes pulled my beard and tore my trees,
And (with another chuckle) squawled a bit, and so
I called you March!
Spirit of June
Father, Father! I'm a young lady now,
And quite, quite old! - Besides -
Grandad (Reflectively)
Grown old, grown old,
And wooed by many lovers! There's the sun
Puts every day new golden livery on,
And there's the wind grows gentle, and the moon
That silver prince, and diamond-pointed stars
In sparkled suitings - with young what's-his-name
Who liv'th in the evening star.
Ah June, my June,
My dearest daughter of the twelve-fold year,
(My other name is Time)
Thou look'st upon us with thy summer eyes,
And straight the wrinkled world puts off his age
For dimpling youth again! And all too soon
Our hearts just touched with Spring's divine regret
For dusty, dead, sweet roses, thou art gone,
And in the maiden's stead a matron stands,
Deep-bosomed July!
The mortals, finding themselves unnoticed, attempt
to run out The Indians are immediately alert,
and run after them.
Grandad
Holloa! Who's there? Seize them, some of you!
They are brought forward.
Spirit of June (Explaining)
These mortals have
By some mischance upon this chosen night
Consecrate to our mysteries, thus disturbed
The cricket at his dewy bath, the toad
Running his scale of do re mi to do,
And us, the patrons of the fairy dance.
A Bat flits out of the wood and appears before
Grandad
Bat
And I, who clung to an elm tree o'er their heads,
And being summoned by your charm awoke,
O'erheard them plotting death to all woodland
things,
Tree-bole and bannered grass and reedy choir
Where every twilight our frog orchestra
Tunes violins and thumps a double bass.
Grandad
Death?

Spirit of June
What say you?
Bat (With growling excitement)
Death, terror and death -
How down the pillared trees, root up the grass,
fill the quick marsh, choke up the stream, destroy
banish or starve each bird, Bat, insect, spirit,
and in their stead with monstrous mortal hands
erect a temple to their god. They have
as we, their deity whom they delight
to worship with thick smoke and sacrifice
of many of their kindred. Him they praise
with whirring wheels like hornets grown insane
With music of clanked steel, with soot and flame,
purposing thus to slay our butterflies,
our birds, our insect tribes, tree, flower and weed
to appease their god, and thus to own the land
forever!
A movement of indignation among the guards
Grandad
Hold! - Shall we, being wise,
because these men are fools, grow foolish too?
For folly like a poisonous weed from the marsh
springs out of ignorance, and ignorance
not criminal but careless. Did they know
what darling violets nestle in these woods,
or with what silken sails the moon-beam moth
flits in the perfumed twilight, how the bluejay
darts in these thickets like a falling star,
how the wise sparrows build, what curious art
the marshmaids use to weave their reedy homes,
they would not then with clumsy mortal feet,
so trample us.
Spirit of June
Father! Why, are they bad!
Have they not stoned you in your hoar old age,
dug quarries in your side, cut down your trees,
picked at your bones with sacrilegious hand?
I'll end my charm and so make end of them.
Grandad (Shakes his head)
Daughter, 'tis true, too true My ancient hill
is scarred and seamed and broken, which the lightning
even hath spared to strike, the arrowy rain
hurt not with all his showerings. Cause there is
for vengence, but were we, being wiser souls,
to judge with vengeance, then were we as they,
no longer wiser, but one kind with them.
Remember, child, they lack our sentient art
to feel the sufferings of tongueless things;
they do not work with malice, but are blind
as children are. Many have taken my part,
and spoken of me kindly.
The lights have been gradually changing back to
the moonlight glow.
Spirit of June
This is folly!
Bat
What shall be done with them?

Grandad
Why, let them see
here in the argent light our fairy sprites,
our chucks of marsh and woodland and bright stream
dance in the silver ball-rooms of the moon.
Thereby - who knows? - they may turn better folk
for seeing them and kindlier deal with us.
What say you, daughter June?
Spirit of June (Reluctantly acquiescing)
Well - if we must
forbear to punish as they do deserve,
let's break the evident enchantment first
which holds them speechless.
Grandad (With quiet relish)
Ah! About your heart
do petulant gusts of temper come and go
like sudden wind across a pool that leaves
the mirrored sky unruffled. Go, my dear,
and work them this relief.
Spirit of June (Stamping her foot)
Father, must I -
Bat (Excitedly breaking in)
O, she can't, she can't! The charm's not hers!
It fell upon them out of vesper skies,
and timid lights and twinkled evening woods -
she'll call a star for that!
Spirit of June (Taking out her anger on the Bat)
Am I girl
like this (indicating Edith) who must be told
what she may do, what not, by mortal law? I know what power
I have, what art I lack, and need not your -
The little Bat, frightened at June's displeasure,
bursts into tears and clings to Grandad, who comforts
her and mutely reproaches June. In a rush of contrition
June stoops, sweeps the Bat into her arms, and passionately
kisses her.
Spirit of June
There!
I'm sorry * * * so! - Look, dear, I'll beckon the star.
many do fall; on which one shall she ride
who'll take the enchantment from them?
Bat (Quite mollified)
O let's call
one of the biggest - see - that one which shines
so white above the rim of yonder dark
and curtained wood.
Spirit of June
That's Hesper - potent she,
but not beyond my art.
There is the ghost of music from the orchestra, as
June weaves the incantation with winding feet, and
chants:

Spirit of June
Now on marsh and meadow
lieth calm;
night hath sent her shadow
like balm
healing all the hurts of day.
Star that walk'st thy silver way
where the Stars like sheep do stray,
hear me pray!
Hear my psalm
floating up the evening skies;
bird-like watch it lift and rise;
like a breath on thee it dies.
Come, who bringest home the sheep,
now thy lambs are safe enfolded
bird and kins are fast asleep,
farm and field in slumber folded.
Leave thy watch and fear no harm -
break, O break this sealing charm!
A Voice (Soprano - off stage)
Star-like have I heard thee call,
star-like do I swiftly fall,
none must see me, none at all,
else the charm's not broken
as I twinkle - one - two - three,
straight the spell must ended be.
Once for these and once for thee,
and once again for token.
A bright light winks thrice among the trees to the
rear, and the charm being broken, the mortals immediately
begin to chatter with evident relief.
Edith
O thank you, June!
Kelsey
Yes, thanks! By George, my throat's -
Worthington
No dryer that my own, I'll bet.
Mrs. Kelsey
And I feel much as if I'd slept too hard and woke -
Grandad (Interposing)
Silence! - These are reverend woods and if
you can not do them homage in your hearts,
most meet, but still must prattle on, we'll find
a charm that won't be ended!
O there
is a conversation in the windless leaves,
or on the dimpled river that transcends
the clatter you call speech until the talk
of your wise men and deep philosophers
is babble to't. From inarticulate pools
there rises to the tongueless reeds that sway
upon the banks their slow, assenting heads
such language as ye dream not, save ye steal
like Satyrs to surprise a nymph, and lie
all day in the woods to hear it!
Be ye wise,
and on this night vouchsafed, with careful ear

And speechless tongue, behold our sports; and speak,
I charge you, not at all, or if ye must,
not jargon ye call speech, but the slow phrase
and pregnant silences of dropping nuts,
the stir of leaves, twigs falling, or the lisp
of water rushing seaward past the shore.
Enough of this, Come - let the sport proceed.
Bring me my throne here, some of you; and you,
my tricksy Bat, sit on my knee to judge
who aptest at these revels.
Mistress June,
how may one call this pageant?
Spirit of June
Sir, 'tis named The Masque of Marsh and River.
Grandad
That falls out pat.
Mark you, ye mortals, by this mystery
what sort of airy creatures all of sighs
compact, and swayings and lithe movements in the
reeds
when sunrise winds run swift across the marsh;
what clownish turtles, what wise-acre frogs,
what fairy flights of stately herons,
blue and gray and silver all at once, what lisp
and whisperings of rippled waters stirred
by the slow, whispering air - O mark ye whom
ye would destroy with an untender hand
and learn to know your folly!
His throne is brought in
Grandad
Sit them here
where they may ask and see.
The mortals are stationed near him on the hillside.
The center of the stage is now bare.
Grandad
Who's the first to dance?
Bat (Interrupts)
Let's have those clumsy senators of the marsh,
the hipper-hopper frogs that hop and stare
and hop again and very wisely speak
grumbling "The world's grown wicked!" in deep
bass!
Spirit of June
They're very near the first. - I'll call the dance.
She puts the horn up to her lips and blows. Enter
The Spirit of Sunset on the Marsh
Edith
What is she called, this spirit like a dream
or like the hope men cherish in their hearts
of other worlds and fairer flowers, if name
at all she deign to answer?

Mrs. Kelsey
O she floats
across the mottled silver of the lawn,
a thing Elysian, a prayer, a winding flame
that save for its strange color is bodiless
and presently will mount to heaven like
a dying soul to God!
Grandad
Peace, she would speak.
The Spirit of Sunset
Spirits and mortals, gracious king, and ye
that guard his seat with lawful ceremony,
three kindred troops there come this even-tide
with woven feet and music and lithe bends
of graceful bodies, here to dance before you.
The first is captained by myself, who am
The Spirit of the Sunset on the Marsh;
and after me there follow sweet, sad things
of sunset; fading lights, the vesper stars,
the imperial purple of the growing west,
and all that's quiet, all that's calm, demure,
peaceful, and innocent. The drowsy frogs
peep after me, the cricket's tiny song
makes the mute stillness eloquent, the birds
fold wings and sleep, and in the last rich light
and fading glory of the summer day
the water-lilies close their spirit hands
in alabaster prayer. Then shoot the Bats
in shadowing woods, the lone blue heron makes
a line of color in the falling night,
and while these mortals light their lamps, I call
the will-o'-the-wisp to light me o'er the marsh.
Here The Spirit of Sunset dances before Grandad,
portraying thereby the gradual withdrawing of
light from the evening earth. Then she calls three times
(in pantomime), whereat the Frogs hop out of the woods.
Bat (clapping her hands)
Look there, look there! The frogs!
Worthington (With a chuckle)
In fact, they seem,
sitting in solemn-eyed and ponderous state,
a kind of common council for their marsh!
Kelsey chuckles as if with recollection.
The Frogs dance and hop off. The Spirit of
Sunset calls again in pantomime.
Spirit of June (Reading from her parchment)
Now we'll have
those optimists, the Crickets, with their blithe
incessant violins.
The Crickets come in, carrying little violins, and
as they dance make as if to play on them. As they go
off, The Spirit of Sunset calls again.
Kelsey (With extraordinary interest)
What's next?

Spirit of June
The dance
which shows the Evening Wind with lullaby
and murmurous whisperings and drowsy sighs
putting to sleep the Baby Birds.
THE Evening Wind comes in with several children
dressed to symbolize Baby Birds, and in the
dance these are at first very lively, then gradually become
sleepier and sleepier; at the close they sink into slumber in
the shelter of the Evening Wind. They go out.
Kelsey (Half to himself, very thoughtfully)
By George!
Mrs. Kelsey
Oh, that was dear! And every night the wind
hushes the birds with that same cradle-croon?
Grandad (Gravely assures her)
Each sunset hour they're bedded in that same
sweet fashion - save where factories forbid
with their unending noise and smoky air!
Kelsey becomes thoughtful.
The Spirit of Sunset calls again. June announces:
The dance of the folding of the water-lilies.
This is footed by young girls clad in white with yellow
and green about them Then there follow, similarly
summoned by The Spirit of Sunset and announced
by June, the Dance of the Reeds Swaying in the Wind;
the Dance of the Bats! the Dance of the Blue Heron, a
solo dance; and the Dance of the Will-o'-the-Wisps.
They all go out, and The Spirit of Sunset ON
THE MARCH dances before Grandad and steals away.
Grandad makes a sign and the Indians noiselessly
march off in the gathering dusk. The lights change to
a dim slate gray.
Grandad
Now nears The Hour of Midnight on the Marsh
with muffled tread and face avert, to move
in stateliest measure yet.
Spirit of June
And with her come
dread secrets from the ancient woods - spirits and
deeds,
the souls of murdered Indians, old wars
and camp-fires. Ghastly fire-lights gleam
on dance of death and war-dance, and the women
weave ceremonial measures that portray
their prayers for a good harvest. The hollow drum
rattles for leaping medicine men, the trapper
is welcomed to the lodge, brings toys to please
these savage children, and departs with them
on the long trail of war.
And all this while
The Spirit of Midnight, circled by four Stars
holds o'er the mirroring marsh her magic rule
and breathing on its waters as men breathe
upon a sorcerer's glass, evokes as they
these legends of the woods, gray ghosts that step,
shadowless, into our visions and depart
shadowless to the waters whence they came.

A ghostly call on the flute, and The Hour of Midnight
enters, attired in deep black, with bare arms
and covered head. She is accompanied by four attendants
Stars, and they all foot a grave and sombre measure
before Father Grandad. Then follow the several
dances as described by June, footed in the eerie
half-light, noiselessly and the like shadow-dancing. At the
close The Hour of Midnight DANCES again with
the four Stars, then each STAR retreats to a corner of
the stage and dissappears. Midnight, as the darkness
gathers, fades into the woods. The stage is absolutely
black. There is a long silence. Suddenly there
comes jolly music from the orchestra, and the lights flash
on in a cheerful, warm glow.
Worthington
The third of the three spirits - how is she named?
Bat
I know - I know! She is the soul
of sunrise. When she comes I go to sleep
until her sister of the sunset skies
wakes me to flit again.
As the following dances progress, the Bat grows
drowsier, sinks to sleep and is carried off at the end in
the arms of June.
Now is sung off the stage -
Rose of the dawn - a rose in the sky,
and the wide, white pool is a shining rose!
The blushing river runs dimpling by,
to the sea it flows,
the sea, the sea that is all one rose!
Rose of the dawn - the pale, pearl moon
crumbles like surf on a rose-red sea,
and the ageing Stars in this youth of noon,
they die - let them be!
For youth, for youth is a rose like the sea!
Rose of the dawn - and the woods are stirred
by a a wind from the rose-red east that blows
life wakes with a blush at the waking bird
to the morn that blows,
to the love in life that is all one rose!
Enter The Spirit of Sunrise, gaily clad. She
dances; then beckons and the stage is flooded with girls,
dressed to symbolize Stars. Little by little other dances
representing the rays of the sun, appropriately
clad, interweave in the figure, and gradually push aside
the Stars, who droop their heads and retire. At the close
the Stars have disappeared. The sun-rays gather on either
side of the scene, The Spirit of the Sunrise in the middle.
She calls the Winds of the Morning to her
side, who enter, driving before them the MORNING
CLOUDS, filmy figures in light colorings, who slowly fly
before the WINDS, represented by four tall graceful girls,
dew-impearled, wit hstreaming hair and scattering flowers
as they dance Colored lights play over the scene.
The CLOUDS are driven off the stage by the WINDS,
who also go off. There is a moment's pause.
The Spirit of Sunrise addresses Grandad
Spirit of Sunrise
Ye have seen. O king, in our dance this thing:
the fleet of the silver Stars,
they sink before me in a crimson sea,

Struck down by my sunrise bars;
the winds go forth, east south and north
and west, led by desire
of the trembling clouds, those palpitant shrouds
whose hearts are a nest of fire.
Now springs new birth on the walking earth
where the winds, my couriers, run
and the trees and flowers, as by vernal showers,
are renewed and glad of the sun.
On the gray hillsides my glory slides
swift, swift from crest to plain,
where the kindling river leaps down a-quiver
to mix with the crimson main.
The river awakes as the sunlight shakes
to the waves its thousand lances;
from emerald high land and splendid island
the golden radiance glances!
O King, by the might of dawn over night,
by June, your dearest of daughters,
by your own fair fame, O call him by name,
Mississippi, the monarch of waters!
In response to this appeal Grandad signs to June
to call upon her horn. She does this, and a rout, escorting
the Mississippi, a stately male figure, enters. He
is attended by River Spirits, by Marsh-Maidens,
(with long grasses in their flowing robes and carrying
cattails). by Sand-Bar Imps, elvish yellow figures, by
Willow-Trees, silver figures decked with willow
leaves, and many more. A ceremonial dance follows, signifying
the spirit and wonder of the river At the close
Grandad arises, steps down the hill, and joins Mississippi
through a lane of dancers. He addresses the
mortals and the audience
Grandad
Thus ye have seen, thus heard, O deaf to hear
and blind to see these wonders! Ye that tramp
this daedal earth, of trembling fire conformed,
quick with the breathings of a thousand spirits,
and know not what ye kill nor whom! O ye
to whom the grass is nothing, the west wind
a breeze - no more - to fetch fat cargoes home,
the loftiest hill a quarry of good stone,
the protean-minded marsh a thing to kill,
to whom the Stars speak naughtm the kindling dawn
servese for celestial clock-work, when to rise
and when to sleep!
O ye, all ye that hear
my voice that else is silent, or have drawn
quick inward breaths at beauty here revealed
of delicate forms and shadows bodiless
except for their own motion, ye I charge.
Deem not this sight unreal, but yourselves gross
to whom the wind hereafter brings no glimpse
of twinkled feet that dance along the breeze,
the Stars no memory of the shining shapes
which die upon the dawn.
O if ye move
move circumspectly in the flowing lawns,
or pause to reverence; if the Bat shall be
a thing henceforth of wonder, not of fear,
if wrinkling waters charm you, the dear taste
and savor of the summer hills enchant,
then is this night not fruitless!
We may not,
whose power is fitful, delicate, and frail,
prevent or punish what ye do - the death
of many woodland flowers is naught to you,
the smoke of sooty chimneys naught to you,

Great trees that scream in falling, naught to you;
to us these things are dreadful, and there runs
a shiver through the earth at every death
in every forest, be it great or small.
The sum of beauty's lessened, and the world
grown drearier for the loss.
O be ye kind
if we must die, but be not blind nor dumb,
and we will understand, ourselves not slow
to apprehend. A thousand years have made
our intuitions swift as Stars, our hearts
most merciful to those who pity us,
even though they spare us not!
Farewell! Now sleep
and mark not when or where or how we go!
the stage grows dark.
The light comes on again, the fairies are gone, the
mortals rousing themselves as if from sleep.
Kelsey
Queer! We've slept.
Or else these woods are haunted, for I saw
or thought I saw light shapes most marvellous,
and one more grave who spoke. Did you?
Mrs. Kelsey nods mutely
Edith (To Worthington)
O Father,
can't you build elsewhere? The fauns do live
among the trees, or fairies. Let them live,
let stand this wood and build your factory
nearer the city. Come! Be good - this once!
Worthington (Shamefacedly to Kelsey)
Henry, look here!
Kelsey (To whom Mrs. Kelsey has been pleading)
John, you'll think I've gone
a bit insane or foolish - or perhaps
the same thought's come to you? In spite of all
our near completed contract, your refusal
of other offers and your choice of this,
the fancy strikes me not to sell. You see -
Mrs. Kelsey
Oh John!
We can't build factories here! These woods, this
marsh
and hill would haunt me. Many happy days
spent here when we were younger - oh, you can't
(At least, I fear you can not) understand!
Worthington (Heartily)
I do! The fancy came to me since standing here
in revery, that the place is half-alive.
Filled with dim ghosts and many memories,
and I - you'll laugh - they call me practical,
a business man - since seeing it, regret
my bargain.
Henry, it's too good a spot
a to spoil with factory-smoke. Let's all come here
tomorrow for a picnic and meanwhile
look at your other property in town.
They go to the automobile, get in and drive off.
THE END

Picture

Tonight the Woods Have Tongue Again
Music by Howard Mumford Jones
Music by Homer E. Cotton
Tonight the woods have tongue again tonight the streams are free and
all the world grows young again and bird and leafy tree
Hearing the old runes sung again hearing the old runes sung again shall
join our forest minstrelsy shall join our forest sinstrelsy
shall join shall join shall join our forest minstrelsy

NAMES OF PERSONS IN THE CAST
MORTALS
Mr. Kelsey ..........................Kenneth Scott
Mrs. Kelsey ..........................Florence Oberg
Mr. Worthington ..........................Ralph Kindley
Edith Worthington...........................Janet Anderson
Miss Mary Barber, Star Soloist

SPIRITS
Father Grandad .............................Howard Mumford Jones
Spirit of June .............................Helen Dyson
The Bat ........................Jane Baldwin
Spirit of Sunset .............................. Marie E. Hyde
Blue Heron ...........................Grace C. Hildreth
Spirit of Sunrise ..............................Magdalene M. Harmacek
Evening Wind ............................Emma Bjornstad
The Hour of Midnight ............................Alice Naffz

STARS
Helen Bue
Alice Taylor
Agnes Dillon
Bertha Iliff

SWAYING REEDS
Seventh and Eighth Grade Girls
Mary Baldwin
Irene Bemis
Agnes Boyd
Inez Brayton
Jessie Evans
Helen Meigs
Gertrude Merman
Margaret Muscheid
Elizabeth Norbeck
Margaret Pryor
June Rowlison
Ruth Salzer
Elanor Sandford
Florence Schweizer
Helen Stellingware
Helen Wolfe
Florence Worth
Dorothy Young
Kathleen Bovee
Helen Ebersole
Helen Goddard
Alice Gutzke
Dorothy Hart
Dorothy Nelson
Dorothy Noble
Louise Platz
Irene Pamperin

"WILL-O'-THE-WISP."
Normal School Girls
Ethel Nevill
Eunice Brown
Jessie Callaway
Valborg Gaustad
Georgina Berg
Marion Neprud
Beth Keizer
Elizabeth Rawlison
Stella Wicklem
Genevive Gasser
Ruth Barrett
Ethel Mabie
Berdelle Harried
Dorothy Alleman
Leah Lanam
Flo Rogers
Sigrid Dahlgren
Viola Wallace
Doris Gibble
Agnes Berg
Lulu Hester
Margaret Reed
Dorothy Beebe
Olga Reque

FROGS
Alfred Bosshard
Dick Brayton
Ben Edwards
Joseph Evans
William Gruengner
Sven Gunderson
Newell Holly
Ray Likens
Joe Lennon
Carl Van Auken
Leslie McKay
Donald Gordon
Fred Hankerson
Billy Hurtgen
Durward Lewis
Curtis Parker
Thomas Reay
Morris Peacock

Bats
Emma M. Batchelder
Margaret Bennet
Catherine Farrand
Frances Goetzman
Evelyn Jeide
Frances McConnell
Dot Murrie
Virginia Nelson
Marian Packman
Harriet Tubbising
Dorothy Westby
Ella Ampbrosius

Anna Bearmore
Virginia Baker
Idamae Bentley
Evelyn Bretnall
Elizabeth Iden
Lenore Johnson
Isabel Langdon
Florence Moore
Gladys Muschied

INDIANS
Seventh and Eighth Grade Boys
Jack Holley
Luverne Johnson
Orvill Schall
Trygoe Gunderson
Howard Oswald
John Elliott
George Reay
Franklin Pamperin
Robert Hurtgen
John Kroner
Harold Thwing
Robert Millington
William Bunge
Roy Fritze
Paul Mahoney
Earl Gutzke
Earlo Ruden

WATER LILIES
Normal Girls
Esther Tuttle
May Vornholt
Ina Trogstad
Elizabeth Weimar
Ruby Whitcomb
Eva McKay
Lillian Averill
S. Allen
Dorothy Blatter
Esther Bjoland
Luella Seizer
Leith Baumbacj
Helen White
Anna Corcoran
Catherine Duxbury
Sigird Dahlgren
Grace Falls
Tillie Freimark
Doris Gardener
Florence Gorton
Luella Halverson
Sylvia Melby
Anna Martins
Florence Miller
Anline Nichols
Vera Naylor
Gladys Nicols
Carrie Phillips
Anna Olson
Herminie Schleuter
Ada Sentie
Jean Smith
Linda Schmidt
Mildred Salzman
Marie Sellars
Ida Seger
Helen Reilly
Stella Toraason
Hilda Weimar
Bertha Bergaus
Ina Bootsma
Mary Barber
Marcia Cremer
Carrie Cook
Amy Davis
Lucile Doane
Helen Dowe
Mina Fach
Marie Gillespie
Kathryn Gleis
Margaret Heasty
Gladys Hubbard
Maude Mulock
Mary Huber
Vinnie Hutchins
Orrie Immell
Amereta Hones
Bertha Jones
Clara Klaus
Mary Mulder
Mable Olsen
Myrtle Olson
Lora Palmer
Mina Pelton
Sylvia Price
Elizabeth Palechek
Charlotte Reimers
May Ross
Clare Reilly
Myrtle Rupp
Baldwin Robers
Pauline Smith
Alma Schmidt
Marion Scanlan
Ruth Sexton
Lillian Smith
Mayme Slaney

CRICKETS
Third Grade
Mary Finch
Joe Holly
Arthur Linsey
Donald Rau
Marian Thwing
Edward Dunham
Fred Goddard
Gertrude Salzer
Dorothy Kroner
Helen Baker
Catherine Wolfe
John Clark
Phyllis Bentley
Alger Morton
Ruth Ulm
Mary Wing
Walter Jaude
Jennie Likens
Ellsworth Moore

Fourth Grade
Esther Bauman
Potter Brayton
Grace Bradfield
Jessie Egbert
Albert Hirshheimer
Marian Holtz
Edith Jorris
Hall Jorris
Gladys Lewis
Marjory Lewis
Carl Norbeck
Donald Parker
Alice Platz
Ellen Salzer
Carryl Schall
Beth Keizer
Marian Neprud
Vera Naylor
Meta Woods
Cecil Fullmer
Elsia Halik
Lawrence Broody
Harold Plummer
Marcus Byers
Arnold Fawcett
Leo Tyan
Margaret Morris
Elmer Wachter

HARVEST DANCE
Mabel Fortun
Violet Gould
Louise Neumeister
Ruby Whitcomb
Inga Werket
Ruth Enckhausen
Clarissa Heffernan
Hulda Hammer
Laurinda Haldeman
Ragnhild Braathen
Inez Lund
Faye Aldrich
Hazel Gilson
Anna Yttri
Pearl Lockway

CLOUDS
Blanche Higgins
Sadie oche
Nita Woods
Faye Aldrich
Hazel Brown
Bessie Householder

STARS
Inez Lund
Beulah Myhre
Jessie Owen
Maude Mulock
Minnie Helwick
Clare Lucas

MORNING WINDS
Mary Wallin
Hazel Gilson
Myrtle Kuehne
Agnes Riley

The Rout of the Mississippi
The Mississippi ..... Ralph Immell

RIVER GUARDS
Everett Addams
Carl Bechtold
Walter Bright
Marcus Byers
Therphil Grauer
Earl Grounds
Carl Hoeffner
Arthur Holthaus
Ferris Jackson
Marcell Lafromboise
Albert Meinert
Otto Olson
Arthur Strum
Elmer Wachter
Foster Winner

SAND-BAR IMPS
Jack Holley
Luverne Johnson
Orvill Schall
Trygoe Gunderson
Howard Oswald
John Elliott
George Reay
Franklin Pamperin
Robert Hurtgen
John Kroner
Harold Thwing
Robert Millington
William Bunge
Roy Fritze
Paul Mahoney
Earl Gutzke
Earlo Ruden

WILLOW TREES
Helen Macmiller Mabel Pooler
Griselda Rupp
Genevieve Shepard
Juanita Showalter

RIVER SPIRITS
Frances Blanchard
Florence De Long
Agnes Dillon
Carrol Forbes
Eunice Gibson

MARSH MAIDS
Hazel Hanson
Irene Hart
Margaret Jacobs
Cora Johnsted
Clara Lucas

FROGS, BATS, WILL-O'-THE-WISPS, ETC.