Scene The First.—Interior of a Scotch Farm House. A stair-case leading to a practicable gallery, R. C. Door C. Door and window, L.—a large old-fashioned chimney, R. Donald discovered asleep in a large arm-chair, R. C. Eolia (the Sylph) watching him, Song, Eolia. (Air "Oh, slumber, my darling.") Oh, slumber my darling! I know 'tisn't right My watching your slumbers thus, night after night, You're engaged to another, I know, but you see, Your manners are no less engaging to me; Then rest thee—seek your rest—securest may't be, Though the direst misfortunes say die rest for me. Eolia. Unhappy sylph! To love how could you dare, This child of earth with very golden hair— Gold—auburn—red! It's hue how to define? Nay, but 'tis but gold—of many carats fine. My weakness how my sister sylphs will blame. To love a mortal—'tis a mortal shame. I tremble when I think. But soft, he wakes, And I must be off in a brace of shakes. I fly. First though, one kiss at parting. Thus, Before I take a fly—I take a buss. kisses him, and exit R. Donald starting up Stay beauteous vision. No one here—How's this? I'm very certain that I felt a kiss. Was it a dream? Not so; for on my brow The kiss imprinted there I feel e'en now, Proving it real. Imprinted there? Just so. I have the proof; but where's the printer though. 'Tis strange—each night whenever I am sleeping An airy spirit o'er me watch seems keeping. Sneaking off when I wake, as 'twould bespeak My airy spirit but an area sneak. And yet I love her so. Enter Christie, C., blubbering. Eh, Christie, boy, What brings you here? Chris. L. I've come to wish you joy. Don. R. What! in that style? What's happened to distress ye? Chris. This happy day, when you're to marry Jessie. Don. Marry! Alas! Chris. What means that exclamation ? Don. Jessie! (shrugs shoulders.) Chris. Eh! and that jessi-ticulation? It seems to me you don't half like the match. Don. The match! Oh, Lucifer! Chris. Come to the scratch h; You've still time to cry off. Don. Cry off! Absurd! I've popped the question, and I've pledged my word. Spouted no end of things, too, in her ear, And often said " Up-pawn my honour, dear." Should I make her my dupe—her fond faith trick it, She'd dupe—like hate me—'twouldn't be the ticket. No, I resign myself. Chris. Yourself? that's kind; But it's the maid I'd rather you resigned, Do give her up to me—I love her so. Don. No, I'll discharge the debt I owe—Heigho! Song—Donald. Air—" Gentle Troubadour." Donald Stupid, o'er-enchanting, Dreams, my soul enthralling, Joys for which I'm panting— All I must abjure. When a gent is pledged to wed Any girl, be sure She'll expect the aforesaid Gent 'll true be to 'er. Stupid, o'er-enchanting, Dreams adieu. It's all in Vain you've been supplanting Jessie's love so pure. Donald's pledged to wed Jessie, so be sure That young, handsome, and well-bred Gent 'll true be to 'er. Yes, that nobly-bred Gent 'll true be to her. Enter Sir Haggis M'Haggis, C. Sir H. (C.) Hah! Donald lad, so; up betimes, that's right; But I'll be bound you never slept all night. Persons about to marry seldom do. Chris. (L.) I haven't slept a wink. Sir H. Who spoke to you? Chris. Were I the bridegroom— Don. (R.) Peace, such thoughts are idle, I am the groom, and needs must hold the bridal: And yet that lovely form—sprite, sylph, or fairy— That airy vision, 'tis all vision-ary. Thus to the winds all thoughts of her I scatter. Donald's himself again. Sir H. Why, what's the matter? Don. Nothing. I'm all right now. Your hand. Sir H. That's hearty, You look now much more like a wedding-party. Chris. Oh, here's the wedding—see! (blubbering.) Sir H. For pity's sake, Don't you behave so like a wedding-cake Enter Jessie, Dame, Bridesmaids, Villagers, &c., C. Chorus. Chorus of Villagers—(" Martha.") Here we come, blithe and gay, Our devours we would pay To the cake, which you bake, The champagne, which we'd drain, To the pair joy we wish, Who good breakfasts will dish, You can't think how we'll drink, To their health—to their wealth— May all joy bless their loves— They'll of course give us gloves. Crowned with plenty their board, Spreads for us to afford. Sir H. (R. C.) That's right, my friends; come, keep it up—be merry. Jessie. (C.) Oh, Donald dear, are you not happy? (crosses to him.) Don. (R.—miserably) Very. Jessie. With fond affection filled, my heart now so bounds. Don. My heart's like your affection; it knows no bounds, There's not the slightest palpitation. Jessie. Really? And yet you love me, don't you? Don. Oh, yes, clearly. (turns away.) Chris. (L.) He doesn't love you, Jessie. Jessie. Silence, fool. Don. Here, stir the fire, I'm cold. Jessie. Extremely cool. Don. (at fire) How now, what's here? (dragging out Hela.) Eh, sure I know that phiz. Chris. 'Tis Hela. Don. (R. C.) 'Tis the witch. Jessie. (C.) Eh! Hela. (R.) Which it is. Don. What brings you here, vile hag? Hela. Shall I inform you? You are too cold a lover, but I'll warm you. Jessie shall marry Christie. Don. Away! (threatening her.) Witch accursed, Chris. Let the good lady finish first. Don. Hence, hideous crone—your presence there's no brooking. Chris. I don't consider her at all bad-looking. Let her remain. Hela. (to Jessie) Your lover's false, I say. (Jessie faints.) Sir H. (L. C.) Look to the bride. Hela. Ha, ha! revenge! Don. Away! Chorus—("Norma.") Scare her—scare her, hence, in pieces tear her, Duck her in the horse-pond-tarred and feathered let her be. Chris. Spare her spare her—nothing could be fairer Than the way the lady spoke of Jessie and of me. (The men with Donald force Hela out, Christie following, C.) Dame. (L. C. to Bridesmaids, who are supporting Jessie.) Bear her—bear her out into the air; her Chance of quick recovery will very clearly be Fairer fairer. Sir H. (R. C.) As you're all aware, her Case requires feathers burnt and sal-volatile. (repeat as all exeunt C. except Donald.) Don. I ought to be now in a downright passion, My wedding interrupted in this fashion: Most folks would rave, and storm, and tear their hair about it, But somehow I don't really seem to care about it, Could I that lovely sylph again but see. (Eolia appears at window. Eolia. I hope I don't intrude. Don. (R.) Oh, joy, 'tis she. (Eolia descends. Once more I gaze upon those heavenly charms. Come, let me clasp thee in these loving arms. Eolia. (L.) Oh, no. Please don't. Don. Why not? Eolia. Nay, 'twould be wrong, Since, to be brief, to me you can't be-long— You to another are disposed of. Don. Hold! Don't say that I'm disposed of—say I'm sold— My honour staked to her. How to behave? I lose my honour if I play the knave, To try by an odd-trick to win the game; My heart cries do so—conscience cries for shame. Eolia. Your heart? Don. 'Tis over—you, sweet sylph have won it. It can't be helped—you've been and gone and done it. Eolia. Oh, joy! new life from this my soul receives. Embrace me. (they embrace.) Enter Christie, L. Chris. Halloa! murder! fire! thieves! (calling off. Eolia. I'm lost—they come. (springs into the large arm chair R. C., Donald covers her with plaid.) Enter Sir Haggis, Dame, Jessie, Villagers, Bridesmaids, &c., C. Sir H. Eh! what's the matter now? Chris. (L.) Kissing's the matter. Sir H. (C.) Kissing? Jessie. (R. C.) When? Dame. (L. C.) Where? Sir H. How? Chris. Kissing a lass. Jessie. Alas! can this be true? Chris. She's hiding here—see! (crosses to R. C., removes plaid; Eolia has disappeared.) Don. (aside, coming down, C.) Gone! Chris. (R.) How's this? Sir H. (L. C.) Pooh-pooh! Have you been drinking? Dame. (L.) Heed him not, poor body, His brain is turned by love. Sir H. And whisky-toddy. But here's the Baillie—pray, good sir, walk in. Enter Baillie, C. Sir H. Call up the pipers—let the fun begin. (to Christie.) Set a chair at the table—if you're able. Chris. Sir, that remark was most un-chair-at-table. (sets a chair; Baillie sits, L. C. Christie crosses back to R.) Sir H. Now—places for a reel. Don. (aside C.) Alas! 'tis plain The chief place for a reel is in my brain. Dance, during which Eolia enters behind, watches Donald. He sees her, and advances towards her; she glides up the staircase, and disappears behind a cloak hanging against the upper wall. Donald follows her, pulls down the cloak. She is not there. Dance ceases. Dame. (L.) Why, Donald, lad— (crossing to R. C.) Sir H. (L.) Come forward, sir! Don. (vacantly) Do what? Sir H. The Baillie waits to tie the nuptial knot. Don. Oh, fatal noose! (descending staircase.) Sir H. Nay, speak of it more gaily. Don. (C.) What, of the noose tied before the Old Bailey. The drop that waits me? Sir H. Adds a drop joy's cup to. See here's the gal as you're to be tied up to; Come, to the settlements. Don. One moment wait— A settlement, in my unsettled state! Bail. (at table L. C.) Can you support a wife? Let's have no scenes. Though I don't like your ways—what are your means? Don. (at table) Spare me—my income, if to tell I'm bound, Government will nail so much in the pound; They tax our tin — e'en to the utmost brown Like carpets with the tin-tax nail us down. My income's in arrears— Bail. Device exploded, By income owed you plead you're incommoded. Jessie. (L. C.) I feel a sad misgiving. Why delay so? Donald, if you don't want to have me, say so. Chris. (R.) Do, Donald, do. Sir H. (L.) A very likely thing! No nonsense, boy—look sharp—come, where's the ring? Don. (dreamily producing it.) Here. Bail. Place it on her finger. Don. What a sell! Instead of ringing my own airy belle. It can't be helped! This ring then I allot it Thus to my destined bride— (he holds it out; Eolia enters behind Baillie's chair, seizes it and disappears.) By Jove, she's got it. Jessie. The ring gone! Oh, this slight I cannot stand. Sir H. Oh, stuff! the slight was only sleight-of-hand; I've seen Herr Frikell do the trick much better. Bail. Now let the bride the contract sign— Chris. Don't let her. Jessie. Peace, Christie (signs.) Bail. Now the bridegroom. (holds the contract towards him; Eolia, at window, seizes it.) Eh! what's this? Chris. See there—the very lass I saw him kiss! Jessie. Oh, Donald, speak—he hears not—'tis then true. Don. She beckons me to follow. Friends, adieu! (Exit, following Eolia, C. Jessie. (C.) Oh, will he not come back to me? Sir H. (L. C.) Alack; Who ever knew a Scotchman to come back? Follow him, friends—quick after him let's skurry. Chris. (R.) Stay, give him a fair start, lads; there's no hurry. Concerted Music.—(French air.) Sir H. After him, lads, at once—don't stop, Back again drag him neck and crop. Jessie. What have I done to be treated thus? Chris. Well, but don't cry—things might be wuss. Dame. (R. C.) He's a low wretch, whose conduct base— Sir H. (x's to C.) Dare you asperse his ancient race? Dame. Know, too, that I am of a line—— Sir H. Thousands of years less old than mine. Dame. Any one of my line's age may trace. Sir H. Yes, in the wrinkles of your face. Jessie. (L. C.) Quarrel not, pray, about such stuff— Chris. Both to know better are old enough. Bail. (L.) I shall, unless this uproar cease, Bind you all down to keep the peace. Jessie. What can I do? My bridegroom fled— Chris. Take the one left behind instead. All. After him come, at once—don't stop, Back again drag him neck and crop; Follow him, find him, hold him tight, Collar him, bind him, serve him right. (Exeunt

Scene Second.—A Woody Landscape and cut wood. Enter Etheria and attendant Sylphs R. Ether. By what you've told me, friends, I'm much perplexed— A sylph in love! and with a man—what next? The Mountain Sylph—nay, with that name she's done; In love thus falling, she's no mounting one. Foolish Eolia! thus to throw away Her Sylphide birthright for a thing of clay. By mortal loved, his nature now she'll share, Lose her bright wings, and she who lived on air, As La Sylphide, now earthly food will need— In fact, like any other lassie 'll feed. 1st Sylph. (L.) What can we do to save her? Tis but fit We take some step— Ether. And put your foot in it. Love's arrow wounds too deep—his bow—what use, Though saying bow to this poor little goose? Her heart untouched by the young archer sprightly, The young toxopholite she talks-of-lightly. 1st Sylph. Is there no cure for love we her could get ? Ether. Nothing but marriage ever cured it yet. All we can do is to watch o'er her well, Lest the witch Hela should devise some spell To make her captive. Hark! the sound I hear Of mortal footsteps. Vanish! disappear! Music. They disappear, R., L. and C. Enter Christie and Villagers, R. Chris. (L.) There, lads, I told you that we shouldn't find him; Take my advice, go home, and never mind him. Sir H. (entering R., with a cudgel which he is trimming) Who talks of going home? Chris. (frightened) Not I. Sir H. (L. C.) You do. Wait till I've trimmed this switch, won't I trim you. 'Tis for the runaway I this design; His cutting his stick leads me to cut mine. His conduct's to his family a disgrace, (having finished his cudgel he shakes it at them. Now then, who talks of giving up the chase? Chris. (L.) Not I, indeed. McBooby. (R. C.) Nor I— McDaft. (R.) Nor I. Sir H. Then come, For to the task you all shall stick, by gum. By gum! nay, if your efforts you relax, With this (shaking stick) I'll make you stick to it by whacks. On then, for this unfeeling knave to search, Who's left his bride elect thus in the lurch, Before the wedding, too—he might have tarried; No end of folks bolt after they are married. He's no more son of mine! From land, house, pelf, I cut him off— Chris. Nay, he's cut off himself. And since he's gone, let me poor Jessie cheer, P'rhaps Donald ran away with that idea. Sir H. Silence, I bid you. If I have to listen To more on that head, you'll get one on this 'un. (threatening him with stick. Quick, lads, away—look well amongst those trees, (Exeunt Villagers, L. We'll search this path: come, Christie. (They are going R., and are met by three Sylphs, who confront them as the Witches do Macbeth and Banquo. What are these So sweetly dressed, with faces, too, to tally, That look not like inhabitants o' the ballet, And yet seem in it? May I ask your name, Also the nature of your little game ? By your appearance, dresses, figures, curls, And faces feminine, you should be girls; But then those wings—each wears them like a bird— No answer still—speak, if you can, one word. 1st Sylph. (R.C.) All hail, Sir Haggis, heed not Donald's flight. 2nd Sylph. (R. C.) All hail, good sir! You'll find the lad all right. 3rd Sylph. (R.) All hail! all ailments will be cured ere night. Chris. (L.) Good sir, why do you start and look so pale? Sir H. (L. C.) My head swims. Chris. Doubtless, after all that "hail,” (x's to C.) I say young women, what's all this about? My friend you've from his wits nigh driven out. If you can look, as would your words bespeak, Into the very centre of next week, Say what's in store for me, then? 1st Sylph. Hail! 2nd Sylph. Hail! 3rd Sylph. Hail! 1st Sylph. Christie shall marry Jessie without fail. All. So, all hail, Christie! and Sir Haggis, hail! (Sylphs vanish R.) Sir H. (L.) The earth has bubbles— Chris. It has had of late, As many ruined shareholders can state; But come, you hear that Jessie I'm to wed, And Donald will be all right— Sir H. So they said. Though how appears to me by no means clear. Confound the lad, I wish I had him here. Song, Sir Haggis. Air, "Willie we have missed you." Oh, Donald, I have missed you, Safe, safe, you are; These fairies that assist you, The schemes of your pa' mar. (Changes to the "White Cockade.”) Stay, a Highland lad my son was born, And these nigger tunes he'd hold in scorn; But my brain's bewildered, and my senses roam— (changes again to first air:) Oh, Donald, I have missed you!—I'm going home. (Exit R.) Chris. Hip! hip! huzza! By Jove, I've got the best of it. Victory! joy! ha ha! and all the rest of it, With happiness my heart will burst ere long, How to find vent for it—let's try a song. (Song.—Nigger air, "Wait, darkies, wait.”) Darkest night gives place to day, Darkest clouds will melt away; Niggard fortune smiles at last, Then keep up your pecker till the worst is past. When fate dark is, wait— Wait—wait—wait. Never dig up the seed to see how it's growing, But wait, wait, wait. Wait, and your sweetheart "yes" will say, Wait, your rich aunt will die some day; But if a creditor's like to sue, You'd better not wait till his bill is due. When fate dark is, wait, &c. (Exit R. 1 E. Music. Eolia bounds across the stage from L. to R. Donald follows out of breath. Don. (L.) Stay, lovely sylphide. This inhuman pace Is killing me. I'm but of human race, And can't keep up—no, hang me if I can. Eolia. (R.) Yet you appear a very fast young man. Don. Why do you fly me thus? Eolia. Alas! who knows? It is my flighty nature, I suppose― I cannot help it—sometimes 'tis the breeze Calls to me as it whispers 'mongst the trees. Don. If by a breeze away from me you're carried, I hope you'll kick up none, dear, when we're married Eolia. Sometimes a gaudy butterfly flits by, And tempts me to a race—sometimes I fly To catch the linnets 'midst the foliage dark— Sometimes I fly much higher for a lark― The air's my native element. Don. (embracing her) My treasure, You should resist this atmospheric pressure. Eolia. I've tried to do so. Would I had no wings— Don. Well, I confess they're rather awkward things. (unable to get his arm round her waist. Eolia. You should have loved a maid of mortal birth. Don. Never, I swear, no mortal maid on earth Can match with you. Eolia. How nice! Don. Nay, hear me swear: No cabman e'er so highly prized his fare— No cow loved clover, and no fly loved treacle— In short there is no love that mine can equal. Eolia. Oh, if you knew what joy I feel to hear you, What happiness to rest for ever near you. Listen! (starting.) Don. Eolia! Eolia. That Eolian harp— D'ye hear the breeze? Come on—let's fly—look sharp (Bounds off R. Don. She's gone again, just when my hopes seemed brightening: I might as well have loved a flash of lightning. How cure her of this conduct flighty elfish? Her sylphish nature seems to me quite selfish. I'll have no more of it. I'll break the spell; We'd both fare better if we said "farewell." Yet, could I utter that cold word? Not I; 'Twould be an utter failure. I won't try. Song. Air, "Farewell to the Mountain.” Farewell to the Mountain Sylph, how like a whale To think I could say it, my tongue me would fail. She's so bright she's so fair—I put up with the sell, Yes, too lovely sylphide, for I can't say "farewell.' "Twere well, p'rhaps, discreetly, to breathe in her ear, With the breeze, dear, and butterflies don't interfere; To catch larks, if you'd wait, too, until the sky fell; Could I get her to do so, 'twere well, oh, 'twere well. (Exit R.

Scene Third.—A wild, romantic spot—an open cave R. C. Hela discovered seated in the cave, at a toilet-table. Hela. Bother the rouge! I can't get up a colour, And my complexion every year gets duller. Stay, where's my hair-dye—more grey hairs I spy; Affecting sight!——I am about to dye. (applies hair-dye. One's toilet takes some time—o'erhaste would spoil it, 'Specially with a face like mine to toil at. (She continues her toilet. Enter a troupe of Sylphs, L. 1st Sylph. (C.) This is the spot. We are to watch the dwelling Of Hela, and learn lessons from her spelling Of what she is about. 2nd Sylph. (x's to R. c.) To spare our guessing, Suppose we take a peep. (looks into cave. Hela. Be off—I'm dressing. (Sylphs all laugh. Hela rushes out after them. They hide behind trees, &c. These hated sylphs can't let a body be; Oh! I'll be down on some of them, they'll see. Could I but catch 'em napping!They're too deep, As well a weasel try to catch asleep; For if upon them you attempt to drop, Off! like that self-same weasel, they go pop. (returns to cave. And I've to dress for company. Dear, dear! Already past the time they should be here. Come, my dear looking-glass, one brief inspection, We've very little time left for reflection. 1st Sylph. (peeping in.) Ha! Ha! Hela. Again! Oh, for some deadly drug— A cup of poison. 2nd Sylph. (C.) What a dreadful mug! Hela. I'll pay you handsomely for this. 1st Sylph. You guy— You can do nothing handsomely—don't try. Hela. Ah! (screams and rushes out again. 2nd Sylph. Catch us if you can. (all run away. Hela. Oh! 'tis too much, (returns to cave.) But I'll not think of it. One final touch— (taking up glass.) There, that will do. So Donald called me fright— Said I was ugly—hideous— 1st Sylph. (peeps in.) He was right. (Hela yells, and throws glass at her. She disappears R. U. E. Hela. I'll be revenged for this. At once I'll call My company together—witches all, From north, south, east, west—quick, obey my summons, Your broomsticks mount, and tear away like rum-ʼuns. (Music. A cauldron rises C. Invocation.—Hela. Air: "Scots wha ha'e." Witches who in spells delight, At the witchin' hour of night, All of you I here invite To a cup of tea. Mischief shall each spoon stir up; Spells we'll weave with every sup; Magic mingled with each cup— Cup and sorcery. Let each witch call out her broom, That each keeps one I presume, I'll for all of you find room— You, the company. When you hear the brazen gong, Hither far or near you'll throng; Come a short way, come along, Summoned thus by me. (Goes into the cave, and strikes the gong. Music. Enter R. and L. a group of witches, with broomsticks, each accompanied by an attendant imp in top-boots, &c. Hela. Welcome, my friends. Here, slaveys, set the table, And take these ladies' broomsticks to the stable; See them well cared for—you know what I mean, Rub down the old ones—the new brooms sweep clean. (Imps arrange tables and seats L. C., others exeunt, leading out broomsticks. Hela stirs the cauldron. (to Witches, C.) My cauldron, friends, I was engaged upon. Kels. (R. C.) Our visit called her off her cauld-er-on. Hela. Don't mention it. As usual I am toiling, Trying my best to keep this pot a-boiling. Sit down. (they sit.) Morna. (R. of Hela.) I see, 'twas to a spread that we Were summoned then? Hela. (C. of table) You've hit it—to a T. Pray, help yourselves. (pouring out tea. Morna. This I most friendly deem; But then of witches you've long been the— Hela. Cream? (offering it.) Morna. Thank you. Kels. (L. of Hela) It's plain, her head has the right stuff in, And magic is a thing that she's no— Hela. Muffin ? (offering it. Kels. Thank you. Hela. (buttering toast) Toast? Morna. Yes; to what I've said I'll stick— Hela's no equal! Hela. Like it laid on thick? Morna. Middling. Hela. Well, make yourselves at home? Kels. Don't fear. Hela. (aside) And now to claim their aid. (aloud) Are you all here ? Witches. All. Enter Elspa, R. Elsp. All but me. Hela. (comes down, L. c.) How's this, you're late good dame? Elsp. (R. C.) I grieve to say my broomstick's fallen lame ; I took a cab, as I'd no charger got. Hela. The cabman proved a charger—did he not? But come, to business, friends, attention, pray, Will you be good enough to step this way. Kels. (at table) Nay, but our teas—do let us finish, please Hela. I said attention! pray don't stand at teas. (all come down.) I've called you here your friendly aid to claim. Morna. (L. C.) What is't you'd do? Hela. (C.) A deed without a name, Which to perform alone I am not strong enough. Elsp. (R. C.) Of course it's diabolical, and wrong enough? Hela. Quite! Elsp. Say no more. Hela. On yonder cauldron look; What think you there I am about to cook? Kels. (L) Witch-broth, perhaps, some lover's hopes to smash? Morna. Or p'rhaps a stew to settle some one's hash. Hela. My cookery surpasses both. Elsp. The deuce! Hela. That cauldron is to cook a sylphide's goose. Elsp. Ha! Hela. Fact! Elsp. Huzzah! one of the race we hate. 1st Sylph. (appearing from behind a tree up R. C.—aside.) This to our queen will I at once relate. (disappears. Morna. Three cheers for Hela—Hip, hip, hip, huzza! (all shout. Elsp. A sylph within our power—revenge, ha! ha! Kels. Come, let's to work. Morna. Ay, let's have no delay; We do not get such chances every day. Elsp. Command us, Hela, we are all obedience. Hela. Of course you have the usual ingredients To work the spell with? Morna. What will you require ? Hela. Oh, toads and lizards, and some coloured fire. Witches. They're here. Hela. (C.) Then round the cauldron take your places, Forming a ring as usual in such cases. (they surround the cauldron. And now let each in turn, with voice sonorous, Pronounce a spell, while t'others join in chorus. (Sings. Air—"All round my hat.") All round the cauldron wherein we spells distil, oh— All round the cauldron we our spelling lessons say; And if anybody asks us the reason why we do so, We'll tell 'em 'cause its always done by witches in a play. (Chorus (from "Macbeth") during which all dance round) Around, around, around, about, about, about, about; So many cooks will make a pretty broth, no doubt. (red fire from cauldron. Hela. (R. C.) See the charm works—yes, there the red fire glows, An omen fair—all looks couleur de rose. Green, blue, will follow. Now then, sister, you Pronounce your spell. Morna. (C.)) I'll sing till all is blue. (Sings. Air.—From "Midas.") Round about the cauldron let us trot, What pot Can equal this we've got. Mischief brewin', Foes to ruin— Settling the entire lot. Chorus (as before.) Around, around, &c. Hela. (stirring cauldron, C.) It bubbles—hark—with glee, I catch the sound, Glee! catch! No matter, we've just sung "a-round." Once more—the charm's near done—boil it's begun to; We'll turn once more—that turn 'twill then be done to. Kels. (sings, C.) (Air—"Jim Crow.") Wheel about, and turn about The cauldron so, And every time we turn about, The spells in throw. So bound about, and round about The cauldron go, And everything we care about, Results will show. Chorus, as before. Around, around, &c. (During this the attendant imps have come in and joined in a demoniac dance, with other diableries. Hela. (takes a scarf from the cauldron.) 'Tis done. This scarf, no silk-worm could have spun it, No weaver wrought it, though 'tis we've a done it. Tremble, proud sylph. Beware my vengeance, Miss! Beware! ere long you shall be wearing this. One trial will suffice—one dose—just so— Tried on her back it will be dose-à-dos. Friends—by your aid my gratitude you've earned, And I declare this meeting now adjourned. (Witches dance off grotesquely, as scene closes

Scene Fourth.—Cottage Interior. Enter Jessie, R. Jessie. No news of Donald yet! Folks say I know, No news is good news—I can't feel it so. No tidings to be gained in any quarter, Yet if no tide in, why all this eye-water. (wiping her eyes. By his unfairness 'tis I feel so hurt. Desert me thus—it wasn't my desert. The love songs he dinned in my ears! the sinner! I've not got my desert, nor yet the dinner! Ungrateful man! shall I still for him fret— Or think no more of him ?—the dinner forget. Others could sing love songs as well as he,— There's Christie would my Christy minstrel be. Enter Christie, R. Chris. Ay, that he would. Talk of what's-his-name— Et cetera. Jessie. (L.) What? Eavesdropping! For shame! Chris. (R.) I Scorn an action with such meanness tainted, Your Christie minstrel's far less black than painted. Jessie. Leave me, good Christie, now—I wish you would, Chris. That you may weep for Donald—what's the good? Piping your eye for him won't pay the piper; So wipe your eyes, and then forget the wiper. Jessie. But why should he forsake me? Chris. For sake of some one else— Jessie. Alas! who knows? To me he seems a perfect riddle. Chris. True— And, as a riddle, give him up; now do. Take me instead. It is by fate decreed, That you should marry me—it is, indeed. Duet. Air—"The Warbling Waggoner." Chris. When first I spoke, a gag on me you put, by saying "no," Which filled my loving heart full of sorrow, grief, and woe; But now your other lover's gone—you'll me accept, I know. Jessie. Pull up, my lad, gee-wo; too fast by half you go ; You make me quote the words of the jolly waggoner. Chris. A little farm we'll keep, and we'll have little girls and boys, And little pigs and sheep, as well, to make a little noise. Jessie. My mother you'd, of course, permit to share our our wedded joys. Chris. Pull up, my lass, gee-wo; a mother-in-law, no, no! Oh, who would take a wife with such a jolly drag on her. Jessie. Enough! I yield—I'm yours—on one condition— Chris. Name it. Jessie. That Donald gives his full permission; Prove to me he has ceased to care about me, And would be really happier without me, Then I accept you in his stead. Chris. You do? This is of happiness too great a coup. Coup! said I? Not so, your acceptance willing— Acceptance—bill-coup-ha! ha! cooing, billing— Joy's turned my brain—away! I know my course, And your acceptance Donald shall endorse. Jessie. Dear Christie, pray be calm. Chris. Dear Christie! Oh! One fond embrace before I start. (they embrace. Enter Sir Haggis and Dame, L. Sir H. (L. C.) Halloa! Speak sir, what means this freedom? Chris. (R.) Can't you guess ? Sir H. Well, I should call it freedom of the press. Chris. Good-bye, dear Jessie. Stand aside, old shaver. (pushes past him, and exit L. Sir H. Shaver! Dame. (L. to Jessie) Now, miss, you us, perhaps, will favour With some slight explanation. Sir H. Come, girl, speak! Jessie. (crossing to Dame) Oh! the fact is, he's Donald gone to seek. Christie was good enough his aid to proffer, And I embraced— Sir H. (R.) We saw you did. Jessie. (C.) His offer. Placed myself in his hands. Sir H. Her candour charms,― I thought you'd placed yourself, though, in his arms. Dame. (L.) I am astonished. Jessie. Blame me not, good mother. Sir H. You're a nice article. Dame. Your son's another. Sir H. Dare to abuse a Haggis to my face! Dame. If you speak ill of Gourlies in this place— Sir H. The scion of a house whose ancient line— Dame. His house, indeed! just you get out of mine. Your son's a brute, my daughter to desert— Sir H. Your daughter, ma'am, is an abandoned flirt! (Trio. Air—"Mother he's going away.") Dame. Oh, what are you trying at? tell us Of which are you making a fool? Sir H. Why, of both each in turn to make jealous— With girls it's the orthodox rule. Jessie. Had Donald to me true but rested, To Christie no word would I say. Dame. Why, 'twas but t'other day you protested Of Christie the sight you detested. Jessie. But mother— Dame. Oh, bother. (twice.) Jessie. But t'other one's bolted away, Yes t'other one's bolted away; Oh, mother, he's bolted away! So of Donald bereft, I just take what is left. Sir H. (spoken) More shame for you, I say. Jessie. Why t'other one's bolted away. (Second Verse.) Sir H. If he's bolted away, all the better, Since him you're unworthy of quite. Dame. Nay, good sir, don't you wish you may get her— With the cash she has in her own right? Sir H. Dare you hint for her tin 'twas he sought her, A Haggis I beg, ma'am, to say, Condescends by addressing your daughter. Dame. For her cash I know both your mouths water. Sir H. More t'other. Dame. Oh, bother. Jessie. Nay, mother. Dame. Another ? Sir H. No, bother! I'm going—good day. Jessie. Oh, mother, he's going away! Dame. Oh, bother, he's so in the way! Why the deuce don't you go. Sir H. I am off, you must know. Dame. (spoken) Good riddance too, I say. Sir H. Good mother, I'm going; good day. (Sir Haggis crosses and exit, L. Exeunt Dame and Jessie, R.)

Scene Fifth.—Woodland haunt of the Sylphs. (Ballet of Sylphs.) 1st Sylph. (advancing, R.) Sisters, break off your dance. I hear the sound Of human footsteps. 2nd Sylph. (L.) Nay, then, I'll be bound It is Eolia's lover. 1st Sylph. (looking off) 'Tis; you're right. 3rd Sylph. (C.) Must we shun his, like other mortal's sight? He's almost one of us. 2nd Sylph. True; his position Might to our sports almost ensure admission. 1st Sylph. Hear what Eolia says, I'd recommend ; Of course her name is down for self and friend. 2nd Sylph. Good; let our sports then for a while be ended, And the free list entirely suspended. (they disappear amongst trees. Eolia glides down a hill, R.; Donald follows laboriously. Don. I say, hold hard. (sits down) Now, once for all, just drop it; This style of things won't do, so please to stop it. Eolia. (L.) What, unkind words already! Don. (R.) None of that, I tell you I can't stand it, there, that's flat. Eolia. I flew off but in sport. Don. But then, you see, What's sport to you is nearly death to me. Eolia. You give me pain. Don. To me you've giv'n, it's plain, A reg'lar winder——not a single pane— Eolia. Well, don't be cross, I'll promise to be steady. Don. You've promised that some twenty times already. Then you fly off, I follow, but can't catch— Eolia. This comes of making an unequal match. Your nature's gross—aerial mine you see. Don. Your aerial nature's a real bore to me. A fig for these distinctions! Eolia. I said so, sir. That cry of figs proves you at once the grosser. (Duet.—Air, "Tippetywitchet.") Don. Sweet sylph, words don't let's bandy, Nor one another chaff; Eolia. I'm gay by nature, and I Was born to sing and laugh, Ha! ha! ha! ha! Don. Oh, I love to see you gay. Eolia. Ha! ha! ha! ha! Don. Tol-ol-ol-de-rol-ol-lay. Don. But, sweetest, list to reason: In bounds if you'd but keep— Eolia. My love no longer pleasin', Weep, wretched sylphide, weep! Oh-oh-oh oh! Don. Don't cry like this, dear, pray, Oh-oh, oh-oh! Eolia. I recall all, dear—all unsay! Don. Oh, please don't weep; come, dry your eyes, my pet, They're wet with dew, made moist by our duet. Through me it is that tears your cheek bedew so; How could I ever have the cheek to do so? To be unkind I really didn't mean. Eolia. All's bright again—I may say all's serene. But come, I've brought you here my friends to see. Don. Why need we care about society? In some lone spot I'd rather keep my prize, And hide all eyes from her I idolize. Eolia. Do you object to meet my friends? Don. My dear, 'Twould give me pleasure. Eolia. Ho! then sylphs appear. (Music. The Sylphs flock in from all quarters and surround Donald. Don. (C., looking round) What lovely forms! What figures and what faces! What graceful airs! ay, and what airy graces! A heart unoccupied these would endanger. 1st Sylph. (R.) Welcome, small mortal, 2nd Sylph. (R. C.) Welcome, little stranger. Don. Thanks, gentle friends. Eolia. (aside, L.) So rapt he seems to be With them, he doesn't care a rap for me. (aloud) Friends, let me introduce this nice young man, Who'll join our game of catch us as catch can. (Ballet of sylphs, forming a kind of fairy-like kiss in-the-ring. Eolia runs in and out, Donald following. He at last catches one of the sylphs whom he mistakes for Eolia. Don. (L. C.) So, caught at last; nay, lovely sylph, I swear I'll have a kiss. Come— Eolia. (R. C., angrily) Do, sir, if you dare. Don. Eh? Why I thought 'twas you! For pity's sake Don't take a miss what was but a mistake. Eolia. This then is human constancy. Adieu! Adieu! A do! I well may say "a do!" Small traitor you're below me—so, farewell : Come, sisters. (Exeunt Sylphs, R. U. E. Don. Stay! She's gone—another sell. Eolia, dear, have mercy. (Sylphs laugh outside) That's her laugh. I get no quarter from my better half. Into yon tree to seek birds-nests she's flown, A wife should think of feathering her own. Oh, for some means her at my side to keep— Who's there? Enter Hela, L. Hela. Buy a nice scarf, sir, very cheap? Don. (R.) Hela ! Hela. (L.) The same. Don. What would you ? Hela. I propose Simply to be a healer of your woes. Don. Can a witch aid me, then? Hela. Excuse me, pray; Witchcraft I've given up; it didn't pay. I deal no more in spells—another caper I Go in for now. Don. What may that be? Hela. Cheap drapery! Don. Have you then given up the magic art? Hela. I have, and taken to the magic mart. Folks' faith in witchcraft has begun to dwindle. Don. They still believe, then, in the other swindle ? But how can you assist me? Hela. Why, what grieves you Is, that your sylphide bride so often leaves you ? There's but one plan with wives depend upon it, Bribe 'em with a new dress, scarf, shawl or bonnet They'll stick to you like wax. Come, as a friend, Here is an article I'd recommend. (produces the scarf.) (Trio. (Air, "This magic wove scarf.")) Hela. This capital scarf, sir, at three pounds fifteen, You may fold as a cape—may wear double or plain; Dirt cheap at the price. There will never be seen, Oh, never, no, never such bargains again! Don. Provided you warrant the colours won't run, I'll give you three guineas. Hela. (aside) I may safely say done. Enter Eolia, with a bird's-nest, R. Eolia. What a love of a shawl! Don. (to Hela, C.) Three pounds three. Eolia. (R.) Three? Hela. (L.) Yes, three! Don. 'Tis a bargain. Eolia. What a bargain! (together.) Eolia. I have just found a nest, only see, Full of linnets; how strange? Don. (to Hela) Have you got any change? I know you cheap drapers for trusting don't care. Eolia. Your present, of course, 'tis your wish I should wear. (Donald puts scarf on, she screams, and her wings drop off.) Eolia. A swindle—I'm fainting—support me—I die! Don. A swindle—what ails her? Oh, never say die! Hela. I've done them—I've sold them—effectually. (Eolia falls on the ground senseless. Ethria and Sylphs flock in, R. Don. (threatening Hela.) Witch—fiend—cheap draper, speak; I'll not be nice, What means this most alarming sacrifice? Hela. It means—ha! ha! that I'm revenged at last, On her on you—on all. Eth. (R.) Hold! not so fast The sylph you've overcome, but not the woman. Embrace her, Donald; like yourself, she's human ; No more her elfish tricks your love she'll try with; Her wings gone, she's no feather left to fly with. See, she awakes! life stirs again within her. Eolia. (R. C., rising) Oh, Donald dear, what would you like for dinner; I've just been dreaming how to hash that mutton. Dear, dear, and your shirt-collar wants a button. Don. (L. C.) Oh, happy change! my shirt-fronts cared for—see, Just when I thought all dickey 'twas with me. Eolia. But I must fly; Don. My new born hopes thus quashing. Why must you fly? Eolia. Why, to give out the washing. Don. Pattern of all domestic virtues, please Embrace me. Eolia. Gladly. (embrace. Don. Hark, though, to the breeze! Do you not feel your presence 'tis invoking. Eolia. Bother the wind! 'Twill set the chimneys smoking. Don. Yon glorious lark, too, singing up on high. Eolia. Ah! wouldn't he be glorious in a pie. Don. Practical creature! This my joy makes sure. Eth. I think you'll own it's a decided cure. Hela. (L.) What power my plan has foiled? Eth. (R.) One far above Your own. Hela. What is it— speak? Eth. The "power of love." She's won a human heart, and so may scoff At fiendish spells. Hela. If that's the case, I'm off. But take a witch's blessing ere she goes, May all the miseries and all the woes Of married life befal you. May the curse Of—no, you're married—I can't wish you worse. (Exit L.) Don. (looking off) But here's the governor, see, and Jessie too, And all the rest of them. (Enter Dame, Sir Haggis, Jessie, Christie, Villagers, &c., R.) Ah, how d'ye do (crosses to C. Etheria and Sylphs surround Eolia L.) Jessie. (C.) Oh, Donald! Don. (L. C.) Yes, I know; come cut it short— (joins her hand with Christie's.) Take her, be happy—bless you—that's your sort. (Christie and Jessie retire up. Sir H. (C.) So, sir, I've found you. Don. (L. C.) You too? come along— (joins his hand with Dame's. Take her be happy—bless you! Sir H. No, you're wrong. Dame. (R. C.) Sir, our condition we've no wish to change. Don. You've not? No more have I—'tis very strange; But if our friends in front will but abet me, I'll keep the same as long as e'er they'll let me. We'll seek no change. Chris. (coming down with Jessie, L.) Yes, I will, if you please; Change for a five-pound note for wedding-fees. Eolia. (coming forward C.) I'm changed already. Friends, from "La Sylphide," That you've long known, this is a change indeed;— Say not the Mountain Sylph we've spoiled, though, pray, In changing her romantic nature. Don. (coming forward) Nay, "Tis for the best. Sylphs—fairies—sprites—what not? A real true-hearted woman bangs the lot. Eth. (L. C.) But one change more there's wanted. Don. What d'ye mean? Eth. Oh, nothing, but that I should change the scene, And to our sylphide's home conduct you. Don. Good! At Easter-time, it's only right you should. Without last scenes all actors efforts faint are, So, as the sailors say-"Let go the painter." (Finale—Air, "When Fern Leaves appear"]) When pieces appear at this time of year, It is not enough, the story all told, That the curtain we drop; for custom says, stop, Let's see your last scene all glitter and gold! We've finished our play-we've no more to say, But one word ere bidding adieu- For many a night you all we'd invite The home of the Sylphide to view. (repeat in chorus.) Scene changes to the Sylphide's Home. Final Tableau. Curtain.