170

AMUSEMENTS.
NIBLO'S GARDEN--THE "SCOUTS OF THE PRAIRIE."
Mr. Ned Buntline has now entered a field in
which he can at least make money. He has written
a play called the "Scouts of the Prairie," which has
no more interest than the many stories of Western
life which he has given to the world; but fortunately
there are resources which the dramatist can
command that are unknown to the novelist. Mr.
Ned Buntline enacts a part in his play. It was this
and the kindred fact that the somewhat famous
Buffalo Bill would support, together with a band of
real Indians, that drew an overwhelming audience
last evening to Niblo's Garden, filling the gallery at
least an hour before the curtain rose with the
noisiest of urchins, and later filled the aisles and
lobby with an eager crowd. The play, as may
readily be imagined, is destitute of any literary
or dramatic merit whatever. It scarcely
coheres sufficiently to interest one in the
story. It furnishes a series of traditional
pictures in which the red men make bombastic
speeches about the dew, the morning
cloud, and the baseness of the white man. They
have a strong desire to capture somebody, and consequently jump about and yell and fall upon a
trapper called Cale Durg, who is no less a personage
than Ned Buntline. They tie him to a tree and
prepare to roast him. And at that moment Buffalo
Bill and Texas Jack jump into the assemblage, kill
pretty nearly everybody, and form a tableau. The
rest of the play is a repetition of this business,
varied by a few temperance lectures from Ned
Buntline and a great deal of stale rhapsody from
the female trapper Hazel Eye. As a drama it is
very poor stuff. But as an exhibition of three remarkable
men it is not without interest. The Hon.
W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) enters into the spectacle
with a curious grace and a certain characteristic
charm that please the beholders. He is a remarkably
handsome fellow on the stage, and
the lithe, spring step, the round, uncultured
voice, and utter absence of anything like
stage art, won for him the good-will of an
audience which was disposed to laugh at all that
was intended to be pathetic and serious. [...ch?] of
the same characteristic charm hung about Texas
Jack, and the real Indians, it must be confessed,
imparted a realistic individuality that it would be
hard to attain by professional supers. To criticise
the play would be impossible. The object has
evidently been merely to afford these rough notables
a few scenes in which to show their mode of fighting
Indians, and this end is secured. None of them
are actors. Least of all is Ned Buntline. His histrionism
is even worse than his literature. But he
has succeeded in getting a crammed house, which
he and the management do not hesitate to say is
better than doing a good thing.
"The Scouts of the Prairie" will not only be
played every night this week, but will be furnished
on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.
[sentence?]

AMUSEMENTS.
NIBLO'S GARDEN--THE "SCOUTS OF THE PRAIRIE."
Mr. Ned Buntline has now entered a field in
which he can at least make money. He has written
a play called the "Scouts of the Prairie," which has
no more interest than the many stories of Western
life which he has given to the world; but fortunately
there are resources which the dramatist can
command that are unknown to the novelist. Mr.
Ned Buntline enacts a part in his play. It was this
and the kindred fact that the somewhat famous
Buffalo Bill would support, together with a band of
real Indians, that drew an overwhelming audience
last evening to Niblo's Garden, filling the gallery at
least an hour before the curtain rose with the
noisiest of urchins, and later filled the aisles and
lobby with an eager crowd. The play, as may
readily be imagined, is destitute of any literary
or dramatic merit whatever. It scarcely
coheres sufficiently to interest one in the
story. It furnishes a series of traditional
pictures in which the red men make bombastic
speeches about the dew, the morning
cloud, and the baseness of the white man. They
have a strong desire to capture somebody, and consequently jump about and yell and fall upon a
trapper called Cale Durg, who is no less a personage
than Ned Buntline. They tie him to a tree and
prepare to roast him. And at that moment Buffalo
Bill and Texas Jack jump into the assemblage, kill
pretty nearly everybody, and form a tableau. The
rest of the play is a repetition of this business,
varied by a few temperance lectures from Ned
Buntline and a great deal of stale rhapsody from
the female trapper Hazel Eye. As a drama it is
very poor stuff. But as an exhibition of three remarkable
men it is not without interest. The Hon.
W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) enters into the spectacle
with a curious grace and a certain characteristic
charm that please the beholders. He is a remarkably
handsome fellow on the stage, and
the lithe, spring step, the round, uncultured
voice, and utter absence of anything like
stage art, won for him the good-will of an
audience which was disposed to laugh at all that
was intended to be pathetic and serious. [...ch?] of
the same characteristic charm hung about Texas
Jack, and the real Indians, it must be confessed,
imparted a realistic individuality that it would be
hard to attain by professional supers. To criticise
the play would be impossible. The object has
evidently been merely to afford these rough notables
a few scenes in which to show their mode of fighting
Indians, and this end is secured. None of them
are actors. Least of all is Ned Buntline. His histrionism
is even worse than his literature. But he
has succeeded in getting a crammed house, which
he and the management do not hesitate to say is
better than doing a good thing.
"The Scouts of the Prairie" will not only be
played every night this week, but will be furnished
on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.
[sentence?]