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THE AMERICAN MUSEUM JOURNAL 



A war against the mammoth race ; 



The greater war, a prize to glean 



By those who go the pace! 



By those who on their fellows fling 



In mighty wrath the sword and spear — 



By bloody deeds thus conquering 



And filling all the world with fear — 



To such the plaudits of the song 



And glowing praises shall belong. 



Cave Man. My wits are dazed, I know not 



how 

 The meaning of your tale to read. 

 Shall wholesale murder us endow, 

 While all the Avorld shall bleed? 

 Pray, say to us, where is the gain. 

 What compensates for all this pain? 



First Angel. The gain it is to win the 



world. 

 To lord it over all the earth, 

 To see your flag of war unfurled 

 Wherever men have birth — 

 And doing this heroic thing 

 To live as heroes in the fight, 

 And culture to the nations bring 

 With heavy hand of might. 



Cave Man. I see it now, you are possessed 



With seven devils in your soul. 



You cannot stop, you cannot rest. 



While any mind is whole — 



The gods above would us destroy. 



To make us mad they you employ ; 



But we discern your evil plan 



To make a devil out of man! 



Second Angel. Let me explain another 



thing: 

 You love the cave's protecting dome: 

 Forget the war, and let us bring 

 The tidings of a better home, 

 In city streets there shall arise 

 Vast piles of caverns made by man. 

 The roofs ascending to the skies: 

 And all this wondrous plan 

 Shall crowd into a little space 

 A million members of your race. 



Cave Man. We love the forest, and to roam 

 Here and there from out our home, 

 We love the wide expanse of land 

 Surrounding us on either hand; 

 We love the sunshine and the air. 

 The Avoodland sounds and blossoms fair — 

 What have you in exchange for this? 

 What hidden good for all our bliss? 



Second Angel. You live but poorly, could 



you know 

 The power of wealth, the use of gold; 

 How some may live, and daily grow 

 More wealthy, till on growing old 

 They own the fruits of thousands' toil. 

 And claim as theirs the very soil, 

 Which may be bought or sold. 



Cave Man. Our gains are ours, and hard we 



strive 

 To keep the natural man alive. 

 We know not what you mean by wealth 

 If it be neither strength nor health. 

 What gain to any one to own 

 The earth, though it is his alone? 



No man there is among our band 

 Who would be lord of all the land, 

 And thrust us forth in dire distress 

 That he might then the world possess. 

 Should any wish to do this deed 

 We should esteem him mad indeed! 



Second Angel. We note your drawings on 



the wall 

 Of bison, mammoth, horse and deer; 

 The work is crude, yet you may call 

 The Muse of Art, and she will hear, 

 Will show you how on cloth to paint 

 Fine ])ictures you may frame with gold, 

 To sliow a sinner as a saint 

 (That's why the picture's sold). 

 Your labor will your pockets swell 

 With cash from those you serve so well. 



Cave Man. What pockets are Ave do not 



know. 

 Nor do we understand your plan : 

 But we would ask if you couhl sliow 

 Such canvas images of man 

 To those in ages yet to be 

 That they might almost seem to see 

 The strivings of antiquity? 

 Our drawings on the Avail of stone 

 Our figurines of bison bone 

 In days to come Avill yet survive: 

 So shall Ave almost seem alive 

 And give our message from the past 

 To those Avho find them out at last. 



Third Angel. A better story I Avill tell, 



Of Nature conquered by the mind, 



Of knowledge that may serve you well 



Of secrets you may find 



By seeking out the laAvs that hold 



The uniA^erse Avithin their sAvay, 



The laAvs that make the leaf unfold 



And send the night to folloAv day. 



So knowing these you may command 



The mighty forces of the earth 



And from them all in time demand 



Whatever is of Avorth. 



Such poAver is gained in peaceful Avays 



Nor need to any bring distress; 



To science then Ave give our praise 



Who knoAV its power to bless! 



Cave Man. We know the time the Avild 



birds fly. 

 We know the bursting of the flowers, 

 The autumn tints, and when must die 

 The sunmier's golden hours. 

 Such simple knowledge guides our Avay, 

 But you Avould tempt us to aspire 

 To godly Avisdom, such as may 

 Befit the angels; brave the fire 

 Of heavenly Avratli that mortal man 

 Has dared to lift the sacred veil 

 That since the morning time began 

 Has stood to Avarn us lest we fail — 

 For man is heir to man's estate 

 Nor may he enter Heaven's gate.i 

 l^The angels leave, baffled and perplexed.] 



^ Man today is midway in the development urged 

 upon him by the Angels of the drama, there is still 

 "the future, and through much error and travail 

 man may yet realize his true mission on earth." 

 Thus the "message" of the drama is clear. — The 

 Editor. 



