Scene.—On the right a house; in the foreground a pavilion and in the background an orange tree; to the right a peach-tree in full bearing. A fence runs round the estate. A bridge to centre, and at one end a willow-tree, to left an island with small cottage. Two turtle doves in back of picture. If this picturesque scenery leaves any room at all, there is a laundry in background. Being in china, the owner of the laundry is naturally a white woman.

Caste of Characters.

Joe Loo (Emperor of Pak-a-poo)

C. Gamble.

"Twenty-Fourth Old Man:—I am glad I am not a Chinaman; it must be very inconvenient to be a Chinaman."

—Maeterlinck.

Tuan Will Foo (his son)

E. Evans

"I swung the word a trinket at my wrist."

—Thompson.

How Eli (chief torturer)

R. A. Tonkin

"His creations approval or censure; I spoke as I saw."

—Browning.

Mrs. CHU Chows (Keeper of "Willow Pattern Laundry)

A. Mazengarb

"She was a lady of great renown."

—Baritone song.

Yang KWEI-FEI (his beautiful daugh-ter).

Miss M. Pigou

"Now I found that joy could be as high as Mount Chong Nan,
Sorrow as deep as Lake Shang."

—"A Soul's Progress."

Conan Doyle (a tourist)

C. Moss

"Do you see anyone coming sister Anne?"

—Tale of Bluebeard.

S. Holmes (An unsolvable mystery)

C. G. Kirk

"Where do flies go in the winter time,
From January to June"

Sir. Francis Bell.

Cho Pin (a lost soul)

F. Warner

"Nor lost, nor stolen, but simply gone astray."

—Rev. Frank Gorman.

Sem Pul (secretary of the union)

W. A. Sheat

"I stood for the rights of my countrymen, I stand—still."

—Orations of Dunbar Sloane.

Comrade Davy Su, Comrade Stevie Dore (members of the Union) M. Gibb, A. N. Other

1. Laundry Chorus.

"From Here to Shanghai."

Each day we wash anew
Clothes red and white and blue,
And peg them out in line.
Of Hudson's we've lost hope,
We don't use Sunlight Soap;
But still our washing's very fine.

Just watch us rub
As we wash and scrub.
There is no dub
In Laundrytown.
Clothes turn and twist
As we twirl our wrist,
And every time we rub, the suds fly
up and down.

We peg them out each day
In a neat and nice long row,
And we can shew the way
That will make them white as snow.
Forever toil on the clothes you soil
Always on the boil in Laundrytown.

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Shirts and silk collars too,
And tablecloths we do,
And wear and tear and fray
Old dungarees once blue.
Nothing we wash is new.
When you take your clothes away.

2. Chorus.— "Hail to His Majesty."

("Country Girl.")—

Here he comes—here he comes,
With majestic bearing.
With his bodyguard he comes,
They are peaches, pearls and plums,
And their dress is daring—
Yet they seem uncaring
This high stately, until lately,
Emperor of all
Doffs his splendor, on a vendor
Of soft soap to call.
Cheer him, cheer him,
Cheer him, one and all!
Hurrah for the Emperor!
The Emperor of all!

3. Duet: Emperor and Mrs. Chows.

"You Must have the Ticket."

(Air—"You Can't Do Without It.")

Mrs. Chow:
You must have the ticket.
Indeed, I'll not stick it.

Emperor:
You don't think that I'm a pot of glue
For if I think you do
I'll have the head of you.

(Motioning to Soldier):
Chop him off,
Chop him off,
Nanki-Poo.

Mrs. Chow:
You may do your dirty
But don't think you're shirty,
For if you do you'll have a task.
I'll burn it to a cinder before I will give it up.
So put that in your fleay ear you nasty little pup.

(Together):
I (you) must have the ticket,
Or else I'll (she'll) not stick it.
I (you) must have the ticket for your (my) shirt.

Emperor:
I once had a ticket,
But by some fool trick it
Was lost or stolen or strayed.
Oh, every dodge I've tried,
To every god I've cried:
"Give it back, give it back." How I've prayed!
But all of my longing
And all of my wronging
Availeth nothing now.

I haven't got the ticket, so I cannot have my shirt;
Let me weep upon your shoulder and won't you call me Bert?
For I've lost the ticket,
Yes, I've lost the ticket.
I've lost the only ticket for my shirt.

4. Duet.

Will Foo's Song.

(Music specially written by W. H. Stainton.)

Will Foo:
A Prince of the realm am I
Who has loved you for years on end,
Yet never you turn, O proud Kwei-Fei,
Or even once yet unbend.
For the peaches have bloomed a month ago,
And my love is overdue;
So do not depart in weal or woe
Until we have seen a picture show,
Where I might propose to you.

Chorus:
Sweet, chinky chink,
I love you, O so muchie.
Believe me when I say
Sweet chinky chink,
I get so very touchy
When things go another way.

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Sweet chinky chink,
How can you be a Dutchie
With lovers by [unclear: the score,]
For I fancied I was past love
Till I met you, O my last love;
And I love you as I've never loved before.

Daughter:
My Ma keeps this laundry clean,
For you see I'm her daughter fair;
But this much I know, and this I ween,
That the place is on the square,
And the money she makes is hers, not mine,
Tho' the fact is hard to bear.
I always noted that wealth's the sign
That what's not yours cannot be thine,
And you love wealth everywhere.

Chorus (repeat).

5. Duet: Holmes and Conan Doyle.

When Wild Spooks Come to Blows.

(Air: "Dirty Work.")

S.H.:
The further that I go with you
The more I do dislike you.
I think we ought to go and give it best;
You think that everything is true,
Oh, dear, how very like you!
When I went to bed at night I couldn't rest;
So my blood begins to boil,
And I tell you straight, friend Doyle,
That your beauty I will spoil,
By jove I will!
When my brain is all on fire,
Then my thoughts are dark and dire;
If you're cute you'll send a wire,
I'm out to kill.
Have a care, C. Doyle, have a care,
I'm not afraid of spooks.

CD.:
Steady there, steady there,
S. Holmes. I'll tell the lukes."
With my medium,
Who's a regular Turk,
She's a devil for a fight,
She will make things hum;

(Both)
There'll be dirty work
At the cross roads to-night.

S. H.:
In questions of intelligence
I laugh at your deductions.

C.D.:
That's mighty cheek from you, upon my word!
And as for finding where or whence
To carry out instructions,
Your actions are, to say the least, absurd.

S.H.:
You remind me of a pet
I once had, a marmoset.
I can almost see it yet.
When youre in view.

CD.:
Well, there's nothing odd in that,
Why, I've seen a sewer rat
Who, suppose he'd worn a hat,
Looked just like you!

S.H.:
Have a care, C. Doyle, Have a care,

C. D. (repeat)

Both (repeat)

6. Watersiders' Chorus.

("You'd be Surprised.")

Busily working each day,
Trundling a trolley each way,
If you but knew us you'd be wishing to be us too,
Lounging around with great skill,
Old animal time to kill.
We are the best of bold bad men,
From the Watersiders' den.

Oh, if you knew of the work
That we will work hard to shirk,
You'd be surprised.
We really toil very hard.
And if you knew what we barred,
You'd be surprised.

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We really don't look much as toilers,
But (read Rex Beach's "Spoilers")
We have the faces of mushrooms,
But there's a nettle in our eye!
We don't look much as a crowd,
But if you said that aloud—
Would be surprised.

We can go down on our knees before the blinking P.C.'s,
You'd be surprised.
At voting and at work, we've got to admit that we do a big shirk,
But when the lunch hour comes,
You'd be surprised.

7. Love Duet.

Tuan and Kwei Fei.

(Music specially written by W. H. Stainton.)

Tuan:
Eastern skies are pale before
The lustre of your eyes;
No sweet dream from Day's Bay shore
May pacify my sighs.
Sweetest flower of all the world
Come nestle on my bosom.
Dew drenched rose with petals furled
The earth's one perfect blossom.

Kewei Fei:
Let us stand beneath
The wan westering morn,
Till in darkness death
Brings the day too soon.

Tuan:
Alone with thee,
Alone with thee,
Ah!

Kewi and Tuan.
Eastern stars are dim before
The splendor of our love.
No dark dream from Lethe's shore
May cloud our sky above.

Tuan:
Eastern stars are dim

8. "Kewei-Fei's Wedding Day."

Ding-dong, ding-dong,
Ring out the bells;
Come to Kwei-Fei's wedding day.
See all the bridesmaids arrayed in great style,
All of the wedding guests crowding the aisle;
All the family.
Shrieks excitedly;
Dressmen, pressmen, tread on the toes of me;
Grandma, grandpa jumping in glee,
On Kwei-Fei's wedding day.

(Repeat.)

Finis Coronat Opus.

Custom cannot wither, nor age stale, our infinite lack of variety.

—The Authors.