As it is as impossible for the humble historian of the March familyto write a story without theatricals in it as for our dear Miss Yongeto get on with less than twelve or fourteen children in herinteresting tales, we will accept the fact, and at once cheerourselves after the last afflicting events, by proceeding to theChristmas plays at Plumfield; for they influence the fate of severalof our characters, and cannot well be skipped.

When the college was built Mr Laurie added a charming little theatrewhich not only served for plays, but declamations, lectures, andconcerts. The drop-curtain displayed Apollo with the Muses groupedabout him; and as a compliment to the donor of the hall the artisthad given the god a decided resemblance to our friend, which wasconsidered a superb joke by everyone else. Home talent furnishedstars, stock company, orchestra, and scene painter; and astonishingperformances were given on this pretty little stage.

Mrs Jo had been trying for some time to produce a play which shouldbe an improvement upon the adaptations from the French then in vogue,curious mixtures of fine toilettes, false sentiment, and feeble wit,with no touch of nature to redeem them. It was easy to plan playsfull of noble speeches and thrilling situations, but very hard towrite them; so she contented herself with a few scenes of humble lifein which the comic and pathetic were mingled; and as she fitted hercharacters to her actors, she hoped the little venture would provethat truth and simplicity had not entirely lost their power to charm.Mr Laurie helped her, and they called themselves Beaumont andFletcher, enjoying their joint labour very much; for Beaumont'sknowledge of dramatic art was of great use in curbing Fletcher'stoo-aspiring pen, and they flattered themselves that they hadproduced a neat and effective bit of work as an experiment.

All was ready now; and Christmas Day was much enlivened by lastrehearsals, the panics of timid actors, the scramble for forgottenproperties, and the decoration of the theatre. Evergreen and hollyfrom the woods, blooming plants from the hothouse on Parnassus, andflags of all nations made it very gay that night in honour of theguests who were coming, chief among them, Miss Cameron, who kept herpromise faithfully. The orchestra tuned their instruments withunusual care, the scene-shifters set their stage with lavishelegance, the prompter heroically took his seat in the stifling nookprovided for him, and the actors dressed with trembling hands thatdropped the pins, and perspiring brows whereon the powder wouldn'tstick. Beaumont and Fletcher were everywhere, feeling that theirliterary reputation was at stake; for sundry friendly critics wereinvited, and reporters, like mosquitoes, cannot be excluded from anyearthly scene, be it a great man's death-bed or a dime museum.

'Has she come?' was the question asked by every tongue behind thecurtain; and when Tom, who played an old man, endangered hisrespectable legs among the footlights to peep, announced that he sawMiss Cameron's handsome head in the place of honour, a thrillpervaded the entire company, and Josie declared with an excited gaspthat she was going to have stage fright for the first time in herlife.

'I'll shake you if you do,' said Mrs Jo, who was in such a wild stateof dishevelment with her varied labours that she might have gone onas Madge Wildlife, without an additional rag or crazy elf-lock.

'You'll have time to get your wits together while we do our piece.We are old stagers and calm as clocks,' answered Demi, with a nodtowards Alice, ready in her pretty dress and all her properties athand.

But both clocks were going rather faster than usual, as heightenedcolour, brilliant eyes, and a certain flutter under the laces andvelvet coat betrayed. They were to open the entertainment with a gaylittle piece which they had played before and did remarkably well.Alice was a tall girl, with dark hair and eyes, and a face whichintelligence, health, and a happy heart made beautiful. She waslooking her best now, for the brocades, plumes, and powder of theMarquise became her stately figure; and Demi in his court suit, withsword, three-cornered hat, and white wig, made as gallant a Baron asone would wish to see. Josie was the maid, and looked her part to thelife, being as pretty, pert, and inquisitive as any French soubrette.These three were all the characters; and the success of the piecedepended on the spirit and skill with which the quickly changingmoods of the quarrelsome lovers were given, their witty speeches madeto tell, and by-play suited to the courtly period in which the scenewas laid.

Few would have recognized sober John and studious Alice in thedashing gentleman and coquettish lady, who kept the audience laughingat their caprices; while they enjoyed the brilliant costumes, andadmired the ease and grace of the young actors. Josie was aprominent figure in the plot, as she listened at keyholes, peepedinto notes, and popped in and out at all the most inopportunemoments, with her nose in the air, her hands in her apron-pockets,and curiosity pervading her little figure from the topmost bow of herjaunty cap to the red heels of her slippers. All went smoothly; andthe capricious Marquise, after tormenting the devoted Baron to herheart's content, owned herself conquered in the war of wits, and wasjust offering the hand he had fairly won, when a crash startled them,and a heavily decorated side-scene swayed forward, ready to fall uponAlice. Demi saw it and sprung before her to catch and hold it up,standing like a modern Samson with the wall of a house on his back.The danger was over in a moment, and he was about to utter his lastspeech, when the excited young scene-shifter, who had flown up aladder to repair the damage, leaned over to whisper 'All right', andrelease Demi from his spread-eagle attitude: as he did so, a hammerslipped out of his pocket, to fall upon the upturned face below,inflicting a smart blow and literally knocking the Baron's part outof his head.

'A quick curtain,' robbed the audience of a pretty little scene notdown on the bill; for the Marquise flew to staunch the blood with acry of alarm: 'Oh! John, you are hurt! Lean on me' - which John gladlydid for a moment, being a trifle dazed yet quite able to enjoy thetender touch of the hands busied about him and the anxiety of theface so near his own; for both told him something which he would haveconsidered cheaply won by a rain of hammers and the fall of the wholecollege on his head.

Nan was on the spot in a moment with the case that never left herpocket; and the wound was neatly plastered up by the time Mrs Joarrived, demanding tragically:

'Is he too much hurt to go on again? If he is, my play is lost!'

'I'm all the fitter for it, Aunty; for here's a real instead of apainted wound. I'll be ready; don't worry about me.' And catching uphis wig, Demi was off, with only a very eloquent look of thanks tothe Marquise, who had spoilt her gloves for his sake, but did notseem to mind it at all, though they reached above her elbows, andwere most expensive.

'How are your nerves, Fletcher?' asked Mr Laurie as they stoodtogether during the breathless minute before the last bell rings.

'About as calm as yours, Beaumont,' answered Mrs Jo, gesticulatingwildly to Mrs Meg to set her cap straight.

'Bear up, partner! I'll stand by you whatever comes!'

'I feel that it ought to go; for, though it's a mere trifle, a gooddeal of honest work and truth have gone into it. Doesn't Meg look thepicture of a dear old country woman?'

She certainly did, as she sat in the farmhouse kitchen by a cheeryfire, rocking a cradle and darning stockings, as if she had donenothing else all her life. Grey hair, skilfully drawn lines on theforehead, and a plain gown, with cap, little shawl, and check apron,changed her into a comfortable, motherly creature who found favourthe moment the curtain went up and discovered her rocking, darning,and crooning an old song. In a short soliloquy about Sam, her boy,who wanted to enlist; Dolly, her discontented little daughter, wholonged for city ease and pleasures; and poor 'Elizy', who had marriedbadly, and came home to die, bequeathing her baby to her mother, lestits bad father should claim it, the little story was very simplyopened, and made effective by the real boiling of the kettle on thecrane, the ticking of a tall clock, and the appearance of a pair ofblue worsted shoes which waved fitfully in the air to the soft babbleof a baby's voice. Those shapeless little shoes won the firstapplause; and Mr Laurie, forgetting elegance in satisfaction,whispered to his coadjutor:

'I thought the baby would fetch them!'

'If the dear thing won't squall in the wrong place, we are saved. Butit is risky. Be ready to catch it if all Meg's cuddlings prove invain,' answered Mrs Jo, adding, with a clutch at Mr Laurie's arm as ahaggard face appeared at the window:

'Here's Demi! I hope no one will recognize him when he comes on asthe son. I'll never forgive you for not doing the villain yourself.'

'Can't run the thing and act too. He's capitally made up, and likes abit of melodrama.'

'This scene ought to have come later; but I wanted to show that themother was the heroine as soon as possible. I'm tired of love-sickgirls and runaway wives. We'll prove that there's romance in oldwomen also. Now he's coming!'

And in slouched a degraded-looking man, shabby, unshaven, andevil-eyed, trying to assume a masterful air as he dismayed thetranquil old woman by demanding his child. A powerful scene followed;and Mrs Meg surprised even those who knew her best by the homelydignity with which she at first met the man she dreaded; then, as hebrutally pressed his claim, she pleaded with trembling voice andhands to keep the little creature she had promised the dying motherto protect; and when he turned to take it by force, quite a thrillwent through the house as the old woman sprung to snatch it from thecradle, and holding it close, defied him in God's name to tear itfrom that sacred refuge. It was really well done; and the round ofapplause that greeted the fine tableau of the indignant old woman,the rosy, blinking baby clinging to her neck, and the daunted man whodared not execute his evil purpose with such a defender for helplessinnocence, told the excited authors that their first scene was a hit.

The second was quieter, and introduced Josie as a bonny country lasssetting the supper-table in a bad humour. The pettish way in whichshe slapped down the plates, hustled the cups, and cut the big brownloaf, as she related her girlish trials and ambitions, was capital.Mrs Jo kept her eye on Miss Cameron, and saw her nod approval severaltimes at some natural tone or gesture, some good bit of by-play or aquick change of expression in the young face, which was as variableas an April day. Her struggle with the toasting-fork made muchmerriment; so did her contempt for the brown sugar, and the relishwith which she sweetened her irksome duties by eating it; and whenshe sat, like Cinderella, on the hearth, tearfully watching theflames dance on the homely room, a girlish voice was heard to exclaimimpulsively:

'Poor little thing! she ought to have some fun!'

The old woman enters; and mother and daughter have a pretty scene, inwhich the latter coaxes and threatens, kisses and cries, till shewins the reluctant consent of the former to visit a rich relation inthe city; and from being a little thunder-cloud Dolly becomesbewitchingly gay and good, as soon as her wilful wish is granted. Thepoor old soul has hardly recovered from this trial when the sonenters, in army blue, tells he has enlisted and must go. That is ahard blow; but the patriotic mother bears it well, and not till thethoughtless young folks have hastened away to tell their good newselsewhere does she break down. Then the country kitchen becomespathetic as the old mother sits alone mourning over her children,till the grey head is hidden in the hands as she kneels down by thecradle to weep and pray, with only Baby to comfort her fond andfaithful heart.

Sniffs were audible all through the latter part of this scene; andwhen the curtain fell, people were so busy wiping their eyes that fora moment they forgot to applaud. That silent moment was moreflattering than noise; and as Mrs Jo wiped the real tears off hersister's face, she said as solemnly as an unconscious dab of rouge onher nose permitted:

'Meg, you have saved my play! Oh, why aren't you a real actress, andI a real playwright?'

'Don't gush now, dear, but help me dress Josie; she's in such aquiver of excitement, I can't manage her, and this is her best scene,you know.'

So it was; for her aunt had written it especially for her, and littleJo was happy in a gorgeous dress, with a train long enough to satisfyher wildest dreams. The rich relation's parlour was in festivalarray, and the country cousin sails in, looking back at her sweepingflounces with such artless rapture that no one had the heart to laughat the pretty jay in borrowed plumes. She has confidences withherself in the mirror, from which it is made evident that she haddiscovered all is not gold that glitters, and has found greatertemptations than those a girlish love of pleasure, luxury, andflattery bring her. She is sought by a rich lover; but her honestheart resists the allurements he offers, and in its innocentperplexity wishes 'mother' was there to comfort and counsel.

A gay little dance, in which Dora, Nan, Bess, and several of the boystook part, made a good background for the humble figure of the oldwoman in her widow's bonnet, rusty shawl, big umbrella, and basket.Her naive astonishment, as she surveys the spectacle, feels thecurtains, and smooths her old gloves during the moment she remainsunseen, was very good; but Josie's unaffected start when she seesher, and the cry: 'Why, there's mother!' was such a hearty little bitof nature, it hardly needed the impatient tripping over her train asshe ran into the arms that seemed now to be her nearest refuge.

The lover plays his part; and ripples of merriment greeted the oldwoman's searching questions and blunt answers during the interviewwhich shows the girl how shallow his love is, and how near she hadbeen to ruining her life as bitterly as poor 'Elizy' did. She givesher answer frankly, and when they are alone, looks from her ownbedizened self to the shabby dress, work-worn hands, and tender face,crying with a repentant sob and kiss: 'Take me home, mother, and keepme safe. I've had enough of this!'

'That will do you good, Maria; don't forget it,' said one lady to herdaughter as the curtain went down; and the girl answered: 'Well, I'msure I don't see why it's touching; but it is,' as she spread herlace handkerchief to dry.

Tom and Nan came out strong in the next scene; for it was a ward inan army hospital, and surgeon and nurse went from bed to bed, feelingpulses, administering doses, and hearing complaints with an energyand gravity which convulsed the audience. The tragic element, neverfar from the comic at such times and places, came in when, while theybandaged an arm, the doctor told the nurse about an old woman who wassearching through the hospital for her son, after days and nights onbattlefields, through ambulances, and among scenes which would havekilled most women.

'She will be here directly, and I dread her coming, for I'm afraidthe poor lad who has just gone is her boy. I'd rather face a cannonthan these brave women, with their hope and courage and greatsorrow,' says the surgeon.

'Ah, these poor mothers break my heart!' adds the nurse, wiping hereyes on her big apron; and with the words Mrs Meg came in.

There was the same dress, the basket and umbrella, the rustic speech,the simple manners; but all were made pathetic by the terribleexperience which had changed the tranquil old woman to that haggardfigure with wild eyes, dusty feet, trembling hands, and an expressionof mingled anguish, resolution, and despair which gave the homelyfigure a tragic dignity and power that touched all hearts. A fewbroken words told the story of her vain search, and then the sadquest began again. People held their breath as, led by the nurse, shewent from bed to bed, showing in her face the alternations of hope,dread, and bitter disappointment as each was passed. On a narrow cotwas a long figure covered with a sheet, and here she paused to layone hand on her heart and one on her eyes, as if to gather courage tolook at the nameless dead. Then she drew down the sheet, gave a longshivering sigh of relief, saying softly:

'Not my son, thank God! but some mother's boy.' And stooping down,she kissed the cold forehead tenderly.

Somebody sobbed there, and Miss Cameron shook two tears out of hereyes, anxious to lose no look or gesture as the poor soul, nearlyspent with the long strain, struggled on down the long line. But hersearch was happily ended for, as if her voice had roused him from hisfeverish sleep, a gaunt, wild-eyed man sat up in his bed, andstretching his arms to her, cried in a voice that echoed through theroom:

'Mother, mother! I knew you'd come to me!'

She did go to him, with a cry of love and joy that thrilled everylistener, as she gathered him in her arms with the tears and prayersand blessing such as only a fond and faithful old mother could give.

The last scene was a cheerful contrast to this; for the countrykitchen was bright with Christmas cheer, the wounded hero, with blackpatch and crutches well displayed, sat by the fire in the old chairwhose familiar creak was soothing to his ear; pretty Dolly wasstirring about, gaily trimming dresser, settle, high chimney-piece,and old-fashioned cradle with mistletoe and holly; while the motherrested beside her son, with that blessed baby on her knee. Refreshedby a nap and nourishment, this young actor now covered himself withglory by his ecstatic prancings, incoherent remarks to the audience,and vain attempts to get to the footlights, as he blinked approvinglyat these brilliant toys. It was good to see Mrs Meg pat him on theback, cuddle the fat legs out of sight, and appease his vain longingswith a lump of sugar, till Baby embraced her with a grateful ardourthat brought him a round of applause all for his little self.

A sound of singing outside disturbs the happy family, and, after acarol in the snowy moonlight, a flock of neighbours troop in withChristmas gifts and greetings. Much by-play made this a livelypicture; for Sam's sweetheart hovered round him with a tenderness theMarquise did not show the Baron; and Dolly had a pretty bit under themistletoe with her rustic adorer, who looked so like Ham Peggotty inhis cowhide boots, rough jacket, and dark beard and wig, that no onewould have recognized Ted but for the long legs, which no extent ofleather could disguise. It ended with a homely feast, brought by theguests; and as they sat round the table covered with doughnuts andcheese, pumpkin-pie, and other delicacies, Sam rises on his crutchesto propose the first toast, and holding up his mug of cider, says,with a salute, and a choke in his voice: 'Mother, God bless her!' Alldrink it standing, Dolly with her arm round the old woman's neck, asshe hides her happy tears on her daughter's breast; while theirrepressible baby beat rapturously on the table with a spoon, andcrowed audibly as the curtain went down.

They had it up again in a jiffy to get a last look at the group aboutthat central figure, which was showered with bouquets, to the greatdelight of the infant Roscius; till a fat rosebud hit him on thenose, and produced the much-dreaded squall, which, fortunately, onlyadded to the fun at that moment.

'Well, that will do for a beginning,' said Beaumont, with a sigh ofrelief, as the curtain descended for the last time, and the actorsscattered to dress for the closing piece.

'As an experiment, it is a success. Now we can venture to begin ourgreat American drama,' answered Mrs Jo, full of satisfaction andgrand ideas for the famous play - which, we may add, she did not writethat year, owing to various dramatic events in her own family.

The Owlsdark Marbles closed the entertainment, and, being somethingnew, proved amusing to this very indulgent audience. The gods andgoddesses on Parnassus were displayed in full conclave; and, thanksto Mrs Amy's skill in draping and posing, the white wigs andcotton-flannel robes were classically correct and graceful, thoughsundry modern additions somewhat marred the effect, while addingpoint to the showman's learned remarks. Mr Laurie was ProfessorOwlsdark in cap and gown; and, after a high-flown introduction, heproceeded to exhibit and explain his marbles. The first figure was astately Minerva; but a second glance produced a laugh, for the words'Women's Rights' adorned her shield, a scroll bearing the motto 'Voteearly and often' hung from the beak of the owl perched on her lance,and a tiny pestle and mortar ornamented her helmet. Attention wasdrawn to the firm mouth, the piercing eye, the awe-inspiring brow, ofthe strong-minded woman of antiquity, and some scathing remarks madeupon the degeneracy of her modern sisters who failed to do theirduty. Mercury came next, and was very fine in his airy attitude,though the winged legs quivered as if it was difficult to keep thelively god in his place. His restless nature was dilated upon, hismischievous freaks alluded to, and a very bad character given to theimmortal messenger-boy; which delighted his friends and caused themarble nose of the victim to curl visibly with scorn when derisiveapplause greeted a particularly hard hit. A charming little Hebestood next, pouring nectar from a silver teapot into a blue chinatea-cup. She also pointed a moral; for the Professor explained thatthe nectar of old was the beverage which cheers but does notinebriate, and regretted that the excessive devotion of Americanwomen to this classic brew proved so harmful, owing to the greatdevelopment of brain their culture produced. A touch at modernservants, in contrast to this accomplished table-girl, made thestatue's cheeks glow under the chalk, and brought her a hearty roundas the audience recognized Dolly and the smart soubrette.

Jove in all his majesty followed, as he and his wife occupied thecentral pedestals in the half-circle of immortals. A splendidJupiter, with hair well set up off the fine brow, ambrosial beard,silver thunderbolts in one hand, and a well-worn ferule in the other.A large stuffed eagle from the museum stood at his feet; and thebenign expression of his august countenance showed that he was in agood humour - as well he might be, for he was paid some handsomecompliments upon his wise rule, the peaceful state of his kingdom,and the brood of all-accomplished Pallases that yearly issued fromhis mighty brain. Cheers greeted this and other pleasant words, andcaused the thunderer to bow his thanks; for 'Jove nods', as everyoneknows, and flattery wins the heart of gods and men.

Mrs Juno, with her peacocks, darning-needle, pen, and cooking-spoon,did not get off so easily; for the Professor was down on her with allmanner of mirth-provoking accusations, criticisms, and insults even.He alluded to her domestic infelicity, her meddlesome disposition,sharp tongue, bad temper, and jealousy, closing, however, with atribute to her skill in caring for the wounds and settling thequarrels of belligerent heroes, as well as her love for youths inOlympus and on earth. Gales of laughter greeted these hits, varied byhisses from some indignant boys, who would not bear, even in joke,any disrespect to dear Mother Bhaer, who, however, enjoyed it allimmensely, as the twinkle in her eye and the irrepressible pucker ofher lips betrayed.

A jolly Bacchus astride of his cask took Vulcan's place, and appearedto be very comfortable with a beer-mug in one hand, a champagnebottle in the other, and a garland of grapes on his curly head. Hewas the text of a short temperance lecture, aimed directly at a rowof smart young gentlemen who lined the walls of the auditorium.George Cole was seen to dodge behind a pillar at one point, Dollynudged his neighbour at another, and there was laughter all along theline as the Professor glared at them through his big glasses, anddragged their bacchanalian orgies to the light and held them up toscorn.

Seeing the execution he had done, the learned man turned to thelovely Diana, who stood as white and still as the plaster stag besideher, with sandals, bow, and crescent; quite perfect, and altogetherthe best piece of statuary in the show. She was very tenderly treatedby the paternal critic who, merely alluding to her confirmedspinsterhood, fondness for athletic sports, and oracular powers, gavea graceful little exposition of true art and passed on to the lastfigure.

This was Apollo in full fig, his curls skilfully arranged to hide awell-whitened patch over the eye, his handsome legs correctly poised,and his gifted fingers about to draw divine music from the silveredgridiron which was his lyre. His divine attributes were described, aswell as his little follies and failings, among which were hisweakness for photography and flute-playing, his attempts to run anewspaper, and his fondness for the society of the Muses; whichlatter slap produced giggles and blushes among the girl-graduates,and much mirth among the stricken youths; for misery loves company,and after this they began to rally.

Then, with a ridiculous conclusion, the Professor bowed his thanks;and after several recalls the curtain fell, but not quickly enough toconceal Mercury, wildly waving his liberated legs, Hebe dropping herteapot, Bacchus taking a lovely roll on his barrel, and Mrs Junorapping the impertinent Owlsdark on the head with Jove's ruler.

While the audience filed out to supper in the hall, the stage was ascene of dire confusion as gods and goddesses, farmers and barons,maids and carpenters, congratulated one another on the success oftheir labours. Assuming various costumes, actors and actresses soonjoined their guests, to sip bounteous draughts of praise with theircoffee, and cool their modest blushes with ice-cream. Mrs Meg was aproud and happy woman when Miss Cameron came to her as she sat byJosie, with Demi serving both, and said, so cordially that it wasimpossible to doubt the sincerity of her welcome words:

'Mrs Brooke, I no longer wonder where your children get their talent.I make my compliments to the Baron and next summer you must let mehave little "Dolly" as a pupil when we are at the beach.'

One can easily imagine how this offer was received, as well as thefriendly commendation bestowed by the same kind critic on the work ofBeaumont and Fletcher, who hastened to explain that this trifle wasonly an attempt to make nature and art go hand in hand, with littlehelp from fine writing or imposing scenery. Everybody was in thehappiest mood, especially 'little Dolly', who danced like awill-o'-the-wisp with light-footed Mercury and Apollo as hepromenaded with the Marquise on his arm, who seemed to have left hercoquetry in the green room with her rouge.

When all was over, Mrs Juno said to Jove, to whose arm she clung asthey trudged home along the snowy paths: 'Fritz dear, Christmas is agood time for new resolutions, and I've made one never to beimpatient or fretful with my beloved husband again. I know I am,though you won't own it; but Laurie's fun had some truth in it, and Ifelt hit in a tender spot. Henceforth I am a model wife, else I don'tdeserve the dearest, best man ever born'; and being in a dramaticmood, Mrs Juno tenderly embraced her excellent Jove in the moonlight,to the great amusement of sundry lingerers behind them.

So all three plays might be considered successes, and that merryChristmas night a memorable one in the March family; for Demi got anunspoken question answered, Josie's fondest wish was granted, and,thanks to Professor Owlsdark's jest, Mrs Jo made Professor Bhaer'sbusy life quite a bed of roses by the keeping of her resolution. Afew days later she had her reward for this burst of virtue in Dan'sletter, which set her fears at rest and made her very happy, thoughshe was unable to tell him so, because he sent her no address.