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<title>THE WONDERBOYS</title>
                            WONDER BOYS                BASED ON THE NOVEL BY MICHAEL CHABON                       Screenplay/Steve Kloves January 21, 1999 (Pink Revision)January 15, 1999 (Blue Revision) December 18,1998 All IS A BLUR. . . ...then WORDS appear, twisting and vaguely transparent, reflected on the window GRADY TRIPP stands before as he reads from a sheaf ofNEATLY-TYPED PAGES. GRADY 'The young girl sat perfectly still in the confessional...1 INT. CLASSROOM - UNIVERSITY - AFTERNOON Grady--45-year-old novelist, professor, and insomniac--is in themidst of reading a story to the dozen college STUDENTS who make up his Advanced Writing Workshop. GRADY ...listening to her father's boots scrape like chalk on the ancient steps of the church, then growfaint, then disappear altogether.' As he finishes, GRADY ponders a PAIR of MAINTENANCE MEN, perched on ladders in the quad below, stringing a LARGE BANNER between two bare trees. The BANNER reads:WELCOME TO WORDFEST GRADY turns, peers at his students. They look as if they've been on a field trip to the DMV. GRADY (cont'd) (a wave of the pages) So. .Anyone? A GIRL with jet-black hair turns to a PALEYOUNG MAN sitting at a desk in the back of the classroom. He is JAMES LEER, 19. Like GRADY a moment before, he is staring out the window. CARRIE MCWHIRTY  Let me get this straight. The girl with the biglips is depressed because, each night, when her father goes off to work at the bakery, her mother sneaks some mysterious lover into the house. Not only does this girl have to listen to her mother working this guy in thenext room, she has to wash the sheets each morning before Daddy gets home. After a few weeks of this, she starts to go a little nutty/ so Daddy takes her to confession--only, once she gets in the box, she gets a whiffof the priest and realizes he's the mother's secret lover. Is that it? James Leer says nothing, huddling lower in the PATTY OVERCOAT he wears. CARRIE MCWHIRTY I mean, Jesus. What is it with youCatholics? GRADY All right. Let's try to keep it constructive, shall we? Howard, what about you? HOWARD  I hated it. GRADY That's not exactly what I meant by constructive, Howard.HOWARD  I think James should try to be more constructive. This is my second semester with him. His stories are brutal, man. They make me want to kill myself. GRADY glances at James, but his face remainsimpassive. Then--with a visible sense of relief--GRADY notices the raised hand of the achingly beautiful HANNAH GREEN.  GRADY Yes, Hannah? HANNAH GREEN I think maybe we're missing thepoint. It seems to me James' strength as a writer is that he doesn't take us by the hand. He treats us like adults. He respects us enough to forget us. That takes . . . courage . GRADY nods, smiles subtly.Appreciative. GRADY Well put, Hannah. And a good note to end on, I think. (as the students rise) Don't forget about WordFest this weekend. And remember: those of you driving V.I.P.s to tonight's cocktailparty need to have them at the Chancellor's house no later than 5:30. Hannah Green gathers her things, pauses by Grady. GRADY Thanks for that. He all right? HANNAH GREEN I think so. ..Whatabout you? GRADY Me? Sure. Why? HANNAH GREEN Just checking. GRADY watches her glide away in her CRACKED RED COWBOY BOOTS, then starts to exit himself.  JAMES LEER  Turn outthe light, please. GRADY pauses, studying the wan figure sitting at the back of the classroom, then--reluctantly-hits the switch on the wail, leaving James Leer alone in the DARK.2 INT. STAIRWELL/CORRIDOR -AFTERNOON (MOMENTS LATER)  GRADY hurries down the steps, then spies SARA GASKSLL, 45, standing below. She is talking to a BOY with an armful of SLICK PROGRAMS. SARA  (calm but firm) No,Elliot, I said five hundred programs for today. This means we have no programs for the weekend. This means that tomorrow morning, at 9AM, several hundred people will walk into Thaw Hall and have absolutely no ideawhere they are going. (shaking her head) It's all right, Elliot. I'll take care of it. GRADY watches Sara take the programs, turn, and spot him. There is the slightest of hesitations, then.... SARA  ProfessorTripp. GRADY Chancellor. SARA  I got the message you called. GRADY I got the message you called too. This hangs in the air, awkward somehow, then both nod and continue on, without somuch as a backward glance. 3 INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING The RADIO BLASTS as GRADY pops the glove box, removes a JOINT as big as his pinky, and wheels his DARK MAROON '66 GALAXIE RAGTOP awayfrom campus, cruising under another  BANNER: WELCOME TO WORDFEST FEBRUARY 26-284 EXT. GALAXIE - MOVING.. - PITTSBURGH  GRADY cruises past the three rivers and modestskyscrapers of downtown, sipping at the weed. 5 INT. PITTSBURGH AIRPORT GRADY rides the long, automated treadmill that runs half the length of the terminal, until...6 INT. ARRIVAL GATE -PITTSBURGH AIRPORT ...TERRY CRABTREE--Grady's editor and friend-exits the tunnel with a STUNNING YOUNG WOMAN in a skin-tight black dress, bright red topcoat, and three-inch spike heels.   Grinningdevilishly, Crabtree whispers something in the woman's ear, then spots Grady. CRABTREE  Tripp! GRADY How are you, Crabtree? CRABTREE  Brimming. Say hello to my new friend, MissAntonia. . .uh. . . . WOMAN  Sloviak. CRABTREE  I took the liberty of inviting Antonia to tonight's festivities. You don't mind, do you. Trip? ? GRADY (a slight beat) The more the merrier.MISS SLOVIAK  Terry was telling me about you on the plane. It was ail so interesting. CRABTREE  I was explaining to Antonia how a book comes to be published. What you do as a writer, what I do as aneditor... GRADY I sweat blood for five years and he checks for spelling. MISS SLOVIAK  (indicating Crabtree) That's exactly what he said. CRABTREE  We know each other pretty well. (toGrady) So where's Emily? GRADY Emily? CRABTREE  Your wife. GRADY Oh. We're picking her up. Downtown. CRABTREE  Perfect. Well then, shall we? GRADY nods, but lingersbriefly--studying the architecture of Miss Sloviak's ankles as she CLICKS off in her spike heels, arm in arm with Crabtree.7 INT. BAGGAGE CAROUSEL - AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER GRADY and Crabtree watchsuitcases tumble as Miss Sloviak sits across the way, inspecting her face in a compact. CRABTREE  Do you know how many times I've boarded an airplane praying someone like her would sit down beside me?Particularly while I'm on my way to Pittsburgh. GRADY Lay off Pittsburgh. It's one of the great cities. CRABTREE  If it can produce a Miss Sloviak you'll get no argument from me. GRADYShe's a transvestite. CRABTREE  You're stoned. GRADY She's still a transvestite. CRABTREE  Mm. GRADY Isn't she? Crabtree ignores Grady's question, smiling placidly as hewatches the carousel spin. CRABTREE  So how's the book? GRADY stiffens. He had been expecting this, but not so soon. He tries to act casual. GRADY It's fine. It's done. Basically. I'm just sort of...tinkering with it. CRABTREE  Great. I was hoping I could get a look at it sometime this weekend. Think that might be possible? GRADY I don't know. I'm sort of at a critical. . . juncture .CRABTREE I thought you were tinkering. GRADY I just mean. . . CRABTREE Forget I asked. I don't want to pressure you, Tripp. But... (pointedly) ...I get pressure. Know what I mean? GRADYponders this, troubled by it. Suddenly, Crabtree's face brightens again. CRABTREE Ah. ..well now. What do you suppose that would be? GRADY turns, watches an immense PONY HIDE CASE drop onto thecarousel. GRADY That would be a tuba.8 INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING - LATE AFTERNOON                8 As the Galaxie emerges from a TUNNEL, GRADY watches the great city of Pittsburgh revealitself in the distance, then glances in the rearview mirror. GRADY That perfume you're wearing, Antonia. It wouldn't happen to be Cristaile, would it? MISS SLOVIAK Why yes. How did you know?GRADY Lucky guess. CRABTREE You didn't actually purchase this car, did you. Trip?? GRADY It was Jerry Nathan's. He owed me money. CRABTREE  He owes God money. You know,he queered himself for good with Esquire. GRADY takes a joint from the ashtray, snaps a Scripto butane. GRADY He said something about being between things. CRABTREE Yeah, between a bookieand a pair of broken legs.9 EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - MOMENTS LATER   A YOUNG WOMAN with a crumpled PITTSBURGH STEEIERS UMBRELLA exits the building and-seeing GRADY parked in front of a firehydrant--stops, a puzzled expression on her face. As she approaches, GRADY roils down the passenger window. GRADY Hi, Tanya. (to the others) This is Tanya. My wife's secretary. CRABTREE and MISSSLOVIAK smile and nod. Tanya smiles and nods back, her eyes passing uneasily over Grady's joint. TANYA  Grady.. ..Emily's not here. GRADY just smiles, nods. TANYA (cont'd) Is there anything I can do foryou? GRADY watches a tiny stream of water trickle through Tanya's sad umbrella. GRADY You're leaking, Tanya. Tanya nods--at a loss-then turns away into the rain. CRABTREE Trip? ?GRADY She left me. Crabs. CRABTREE Left you...?  Who? Emily? GRADY This morning. I found a note in the kitchen. CRABTREE But. ..why didn't you say something, Tripp? I mean,what are we doing here? GRADY gazes at the glittering scene beyond his windshield, turns on the ignition. GRADY I thought maybe I made it all up.10 EXT. GASKELL HOUSE - EVENING  Through thewindows, a rabble of writers, faculty and select students can be SEEN, mingling under a haze of cigarette smoke. GRADY brings the Galaxie to a lurching halt across the street, parks in front of another fire hydrant. Asthe trio steps out. MISS SLOVIAK notices a GREENHOUSE, shimmering quietly in the chill night air. MISS SLOVIAK That's a nice greenhouse. GRADY It's Mrs. Gaskell's. Her hobby.CRABTREE I thought you were Mrs. Gaskell's hobby, Tripp. GRADY Piss off, Crabs. I lost a wife today. CRABTREE Oh, I'm sure you'll find another. You always do.11 EXT. FRONT PORCH -GASKELL HOUSE   As the front door swings open, Sara Gaskell appears, riding a wave of jagged party CHATTER onto the porch. SARA  Well, hello, everyone. Terry, good to see you again. CRABTREE Chancellor. Don't you look ravishing. SARA Aren't you sweet to say so. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to--oh! As Sara steps forward, her heel-catches and she pitches


<title>Chinatown Script at IMSDb.</title><meta name="description" content="Chinatown script at the Internet Movie Script Database."><meta name="keywords" content="Chinatown script,Chinatown movie script, Chinatown film script"><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" /><meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true"><meta http-equiv="content-type"content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"><meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN"><meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document><meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW"><metaname=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts"><meta name=rating CONTENT=General><meta name=distribution content=Global><meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days"><link href="/style.css"rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

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                                        CHINATOWN                                        Written by                                       RobertTowne                               FULL SCREEN PHOTOGRAPH Grainy but unmistakably a man and                woman making love. Photograph shakes. SOUND of a man MOANING                in anguish. Thephotograph is dropped, REVEALING ANOTHER,                MORE compromising one. Then another, and another. More moans.                                     CURLY'S VOICE                              (cryingout)                         Oh, no.               INT. GITTES' OFFICE               CURLY drops the photos on Gittes' desk. Curly towers over                GITTES and sweats heavily through his workman's clothes,his                breathing progressively more labored. A drop plunks on Gittes'                shiny desk top.               Gittes notes it. A fan whiffs overhead. Gittes glances up at                it. He looks cool and brisk in awhite linen suit despite                the heat. Never taking his eyes off Curly, he lights a                cigarette using a lighter with a "nail" on his desk.               Curly, with another anguished sob, turns and rams hisfist                into the wall, kicking the wastebasket as he does. He starts                to sob again, slides along the wall where his fist has left                a noticeable dent and its impact has sent the signedphotos                of several movie stars askew.               Curly slides on into the blinds and sinks to his knees. He                is weeping heavily now, and is in such pain that he actually                bites into theblinds.               Gittes doesn't move from his chair.                                     GITTES                         All right, enough is enough. You                          can't eat the Venetian blinds, Curly.                          Ijust had 'em installed on Wednesday.               Curly responds slowly, rising to his feet, crying. Gittes                reaches into his desk and pulls out a shot glass, quickly                selects a cheaper bottle of bourbonfrom several fifths of                more expensive whiskeys.               Gittes pours a large shot. He shoves the glass across his                desk towardCurly.                                     GITTES                         Down the hatch.               Curly stares dumbly at it. Then picks it up, and drains it.                He sinks back into the chair opposite Gittes, begins tocry                quietly.                                     CURLY                              (drinking, relaxing a                               little)                         She's just nogood.                                     GITTES                         What can I tell you, Kid? You're                          right. When you're right, you're                          right, and you'reright.                                     CURLY                         Ain't worth thinking about.               Gittes leaves the bottle with Curly.                                     GITTES                         You're absolutelyright, I wouldn't                          give her another thought.                                     CURLY                              (pouring himself)                         You know, you're okay, Mr. Gittes. I                          knowit's your job, but you're okay.                                     GITTES                              (settling back,                               breathing a little                               easier)                         Thanks, Curly. Call meJake.                                     CURLY                         Thanks. You know something, Jake?                                     GITTES                         What's that,Curly?                                     CURLY                         I think I'll kill her.               INT. DUFFY & WALSH'S OFFICE               Noticeably less plush than Gitte's. A well-groomed,dark-               haired WOMAN sits nervously between their two desks, fiddling                with the veil on her pillbox hat.                                     WOMAN                         I was hoping Mr. Gittes could seeto                          this personally.                                     WALSH                              (almost the manner of                               someone comforting                               the bereaved)                         Ifyou'll allow us to complete our                          preliminary questioning, by then                          he'll be free.               There is the SOUND of ANOTHER MOAN coming from Gittes' Office.               Something madeof glass shatters. The Woman grows more edgy.               INT. GITTES' OFFICE  GITTES & CURLY               Gittes and Curly stand in front of the desk, Gittes staring                contemptuously at the heavybreathing hulk towering over                him. Gittes takes a handkerchief and wipes away the plunk of                perspiration on hisdesk.                                     CURLY                              (crying)                         They don't kill a guy for that.                                     GITTES                         Oh theydon't?                                     CURLY                         Not for your wife. That's the                          unwritten law.               Gittes pounds the photos on the desk,shouting;                                     GITTES                         I'll tell you the unwritten law, you                          dumb son of a bitch, you gotta be                          rich to kill somebody, anybodyand                          get away with it. You think you got                          that kind of dough, you think you                          got that kind of class?               Curly shrinks back alittle.                                     CURLY                         ...No...                                     GITTES                         You bet your ass you don't. You can't                          even pay meoff.               This seems to upset Curly even more.                                     CURLY                         I'll pay the rest next trip. We only                          caught sixty ton of skipjackaround                          San Benedict. We hit a chubasco,                          they don't pay you for skipjack the                          way they do for tuna oralbacore.                                     GITTES                              (easing him out of                               his office)                         Forget it. I only mention it to                          illustrate apoint...               INT. OFFICE RECEPTION               He's now walking him past SOPHIE who pointedly averts her                gaze. He opens the door where on the pebbled glass can be                read: "J. J.GITTES and Associates. DISCREET INVESTIGATION"                                     GITTES                         I don't want your last dime.               He throws an arm around Curly and flashes a dazzlingsmile.                                     GITTES                              (continuing)                         What kind of guy do you think I am?                                     CURLY                         Thanks, Mr.Gittes.                                     GITTES                         Call me Jake. Careful driving home,                          Curly.               He shuts the door on him and the smile disappears.               He shakes hishead, starting to swear under his breath.                                     SOPHIE                         A Mrs. Mulwray is waiting for you,                          with Mr. Walsh and Mr. Duffy.               Gittes nods, walks onin.               INT. DUFFY AND WALSH'S OFFICE               Walsh rises when Gittes enters.                                     WALSH                         Mrs. Mulwray, may I presentMr.                          Gittes?               Gittes walks over to her and again flashes a warm, sympathetic                smile.                                     GITTES                         How do you do, Mrs.Mulwray?                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         Mr. Gittes...                                     GITTES                         Now, Mrs. Mulwray, what seems to be                          theproblem?               She holds her breath. The revelation isn't easy for her.                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         My husband, I believe, is seeing                          anotherwoman.               Gittes looks mildly shocked. He turns for confirmation to                his two partners.                                     GITTES                              (gravely)                         No,really?                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         I'm afraid so.                                     GITTES                         I am sorry.               Gittes pulls up a chair sitting next to Mrs.Mulwray between                Duffy and Walsh. Duffy cracks his gum.               Gittes gives him an irritated glance. Duffy stops chewing.                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         Can't we talkabout this alone, Mr.                          Gittes?                                     GITTES                         I'm afraid not, Mrs. Mulwray. These                          men are my operatives and atsome                          point they're going to assist me. I                          can't do everything myself.                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         Of coursenot.                                     GITTES                         Now, what makes you certain he is                          involved with someone?               Mrs. Mulwray hesitates. She seems uncommonly nervous atthe                question.                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         A wife can tell.               Gittes sighs.                                     GITTES                         Mrs. Mulwray, do you loveyour                          husband?                                     MRS. MULWRAY                              (shocked)                         ...Yes ofcourse.                                     GITTES                              (deliberately)                         Then go home and forget about it.                                     MRS.MULWRAY                         But...                                     GITTES                              (staring intently at                               her)                         I'm sure he loves you, too. Youknow                          the expression, let sleeping dogs                          lie? You're better off not knowing.                                     MRS. MULWRAY                              (with some realanxiety)                         But I have to know.               Her intensity is genuine. Gittes looks to his two partners.                                     GITTES                         All right, what's yourhusband's                          first name?                                     MRS. MULWRAY                         Hollis. Hollis Mulwray.                                     GITTES                              (visiblysurprised)                         Water and Power?               Mrs. Mulwray nods, almost shyly. Gittes is now casually but                carefully checking out the detailing of Mrs. Mulwray's dress                 her handbag,


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                                    ALL THE KING'S MEN                                        Written by                                      RobertRossen                                  Based on the novel by                                    Robert Penn Warren                                      SHOOTINGDRAFT                                           1949                               Interior: Jack Burden's Desk, The Chronicle, Day               Jack Burden is looking over the morning edition of"The                Chronicle." He reads the society page. A man enters and leans                across his desk.                                     MAN                         Burden! Jack Burden! The bosswants                          to see you.               He folds his paper, rises, and walks by the presses into                Madison's office.               Interior: Madison's Office, Day               Madison, the city editor, is correctingcopy at his desk.                                     MADISON                         Hey, Jack, ever hear of a fellow                          called Willie Stark?                                     JACK                         No. Who'dhe shoot?                                     MADISON                         Oh, county... uh... treasurer, or                          something like that.                                     JACK                         What's so specialabout him?                                     MADISON                         They say he's an honest man. What I                          want you to do is to hop intoyour                          car...                                     JACK                         Why, you promised me a vacation.                                     MADISON                         Well, that canwait.                                     JACK                         Yeah... but there's a... a girl I                          know.               He opens his newspaper to the society page and shows Madison                a photograph ofAnne Stanton.                                     MADISON                         Oh... Well, she can wait too.               Jack takes the paper back and looks atit.                                     JACK                         The question is... can I?                                     MADISON                         The answer is... get upthere.                                     JACK                         Right.                              (starts to go)                         Oh... uh... what did you say his                          namewas?                                     MADISON                         Who?                                     JACK                         The fellow's name.                                     MADISON                         Oh,the... uh... Stark... Willie                          Stark.               Madison goes on with his work.                                     JACK                              (as he leaves)                         WillieStark...                                                               DISSOLVE TO:               Exterior: Kanoma City, Day               As Jack Burden's jalopy pulls up before the Kanoma County                Courthouse of thisback-country, one-street small town.                                     JACK                              (voice over)                         I found him in Kanoma City. A typical,                          hot, dusty, backwoods countyseat.               He gets out of the car, and notices a crowd of people gathered                around a platform in the town square. As he walks over the                begins to hear the words that Willie Stark isspeaking.                                     WILLIE                         ...to lie to them in order to line                          their own dirty pockets with the                          taxpayers' money. When havethe                          citizens of Kanoma County ever                          witnessed a campaign like this? Why                          is the opposition so anxious to defeat                          me? Why have they used everydirty                          method known to make sure I'm not                          elected county treasurer? Well, I'll                          tell you why...               A man in shirt sleeves and suspenders, Tiny Duffy, comesout                of the local poolroom, listens for a moment to Willie's                speech, and signals to two uniformed men to go over and break                up the gathering.               Jack Burden stands close to theplatform, next to Willie's                son, Tom, who waits patiently to distribute handbills.                                     WILLIE                         ...Because they're afraid of the                          truth... and the truthis this.                          They're trying to steal your money.                          Yeah, I said steal. The county                          commissioners rejected the bid on                          the schoolhouse. Why? Well,they'll                          tell you their reason is the job                          will be done better. The county                          commissioners would have you believe                          that they're interested inpublic                          welfare. They're interested in                          welfare, sure. But it's their own.                          Let's look at the reason in the light                          of the facts and the figures.That                          brick factory is owned by one of the                          commissioners. That same brick factory                          uses convict labor.               The sheriff and his deputy push through thecrowd.                                     SHERIFF                         Sorry, Willie, you'll have tomove                          on.                                     WILLIE                         Why?                                     SHERIFF                         City Ordinance Number One-Oh-Five:                          morethan five people congregating                          is disturbing the peace.                                     WILLIE                              (ignores him)                         If you folks'll be so kind as to                          readthese handbills, my boy will                          pass them out among you.                                     SHERIFF                         There's an ordinance againstthat                          too.                                     WILLIE                              (his face grim)                         Pass 'em out, Tom.               The sheriff pushes Tom back, grabbing the handbills outof                his hand. Willie jumps down off the platform.                                     WILLIE                         Let him alone!               The sheriff collars Willie, then notices Jack on theplatform                snapping a picture.                                     SHERIFF                              (to deputy)                         Get that camera! Willie, you're under                          arrest.               He takesWillie by the arm and leads him away. The crowd                follows them to the courthouse. Tiny Duffy wipes the sweat                off his neck and goes back into thepoolroom.                                                               DISSOLVE TO:               Interior: Kanoma City Poolroom, Day               Two of Duffy's men, Pillsbury and a local commissioner, are                playingpool as Jack enters.                                     JACK                         Where can I find Tiny Duffy?                                     PILLSBURY                         Right over there, mister.               He walksover to Duffy. Some townspeople, who followed him                there, gather around him to listen.                                     JACK                         Uh, they told me I could get my camera                          backhere.                                     DUFFY                         Who told you that?                                     JACK                         People. CanI?                                     DUFFY                         You the reporter that's been snoopin'                          around town?                                     JACK                         Are you TinyDuffy?                                     DUFFY                         What paper?                                     JACK                         Chronicle.                                     DUFFY                         You surecome a long way to stick                          your nose into other people's                          business.                                     JACK                         That's true... Only my boss on the                          papercan't see it that way.                                     DUFFY                         It ain't any of his business either.                                     JACK                         Whose business isit?                                     PILLSBURY                         Them as is tendin' to it. County                          commissioners that the voters of                          Kanoma County elected to tendto                          their business and not take no buttin'                          in from nobody.                                     JACK                         You acommissioner?                                     PILLSBURY                         Yeah. Name's Pillsbury. Dolph                          Pillsbury.                                     2ND COMMISSIONER                         Me too.I'm a commissioner too.                                     JACK                         Who isn't a commissioner?                                     DUFFY                         He's the headman.                                     JACK                              (to Pillsbury)                         Then you're in a position to know                          where--                                     DUFFY                         He's in a position to know nothin'.                          And to say nothin'.                                     JACK                         I thought you said he washead man?                                     DUFFY                              (smiling)                         He uses my head.                                     PILLSBURY                              (laughingloudly)                         Oh, Tiny, you're a card... Ain't he                          a card? Yeah, he's a card... Now,                          who thought up those city ordinances                          about arresting someone for makinga                          speech?                                     DUFFY                         Who's arrested? Nobody's been                          arrested.                              (looks towardthe                               door)                         Hi, Willie.               Willie enters, accompanied by the sheriff and his deputy.                The others in the room, including Sugar Boy in his bartender's                apron,step aside to let him pass through.                                     PILLSBURY                         Hi, Willie.                                     DUFFY                              (to Sheriff)                         Did you apologizeto Willie?                                     SHERIFF                              (mumbles)                         Yeah, I apologized to Willie.                                     DUFFY                         Did you give him his


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<title>THE TIME MACHINE -by David Duncan</title>
                              H. G. Wells'                    T H E   T I M E   M A C H I N E                        A George PalProduction                               Screenplay                                   by                              DAVID DUNCAN     Draft revised thru 6-25-59     FADE IN:     M.G.M.TRADEMARK                                       A.1     Leo the Lion ROARS over the FANFARE, then                                                 FADE OUT:     GLIDING OBJECTS IN A WIDE DARK VOID -(ANIMATION)             Out of the SILENT darkness a short white       A             fluted column surmounted by a SUNDIAL             appears.  It floats in, waveringly, until             it becomes clearly visible, thendrifts             off as though moving in some huge orbit.             Next an HOURGLASS floats in from the left      B             of the screen.  The faint HISSING OF             RUNNING SAND breaks the stillness ofspace.             As the hourglass glides across the screen,     C             it is met by a GREEK WATER CLOCK accompanied             by the sound OF DRIPPING WATER.             A MEDIEVAL CLOCK with weights arises asits    D             horizontal escapement TICKS LOUDLY.  Mean-             while the sundial, hourglass and water clock             return, drifting at diverse angles across             the screen.     THE SOUND of the variousdevices continues to MOUNT.             A FIGURE wheels past, with the face of a       E             clock and the body carved like a drummer             of the 14th century, BEATING the hour.             A SMALL CLOCK bears agolden angel with        F             hammer in hands as it STRIKES A BELL.             ANOTHER TIMEPIECE, with CHIMES, floats in      G             to mingle with all the drifting objects.             The BIG BEN isTOLLING                         H             Then a GREAT BELL.                             J     DEAFENING SOUNDS NOW COME FROM ALL DIRECTIONS, as the time K     devices weave across the screen and, reachingCRESCENDO,     STOP abruptly.  A mellow VOICE begins to SING THE THEME of L     the picture, "The Land Of The Leal".  Simultaneously, the     screen reveals the MAINTITLE:                             M                             H. G. Wells'                           THE TIME MACHINE                        "THE LAND OF THE LEAL"                      Words & Music by Peggy Lee         When Iwas a wee lad                               L         And dark was the night         Afraid I would be         Til the bright morning light         And sometimes...for comfort         Away I would steal Away         I would go to the Landof the Leal.         And soon I would be there         It took me no time         My heart would be soaring         As I made the climb         And there was the green grass         So cool and so sweet         So good to be runthrough         With happy bare feet!         And who was my teacher         And how did I know?         Just when to be going         And which way to go?         But always when wishing         Away I would steal         AwayI would go to the Land of the Leal.         And now that I'm older         I try to be wise         But when I am troubled         I still close my eyes         And just like the wee lad         Away I will steal         Away I will go tothe Land of the Leal.         For there are no questions         And there are no lies         And never a storm there         To darken the skies         The birds who are flying         No freer they feel         Than I         When Ilive in the land of the Leal.     After the CREDIT TITLES, the MUSIC SUBSIDES and we slowly                                                 FADE OUT:     FADE IN:                                               1     EXT.COTTAGE - LONG SHOT - (NIGHT) - (MATTE)     Warm lights pour through the windows, spreading     over the snow-patched countryside.  Only the     laboratory, a converted greenhouse, is dark, shaded     fromthe moonlight by a majestic, leafless oak.     A two-horse carriage, in the style of the turn of     the century, lingers in the driveway.  Beyond all     this, the River Thames takes a sharp curve.     A lonely figure hurriesup to the front door and     KNOCKS on it impatiently.     AT THE DOOR                                            2     The knock is answered by MRS. WATCHETT, the house-     keeper, a thin, tense woman with iron grayhair.     The CAMERA ENTERS the HALL with DAVID FILBY, an     amiable red-haired young man of science, who hastily     hands her his rumpled cloak and hat, then rushes     toward:     INT.LIBRARY                                           3     A pleasant Edwardian room, the shelves are stacked     tightly with volumes of books, many of ancient     Vintage.     Three men are seated in a rough circle,motionless,     obviously awaiting the arrival of occupants for the     two empty chairs.  The silence is accentuated by the     merry CRACKLING of logs in the fireplace and the     capricious TICKING of innumerabletimepieces about     the room.     Filby enters, pauses to glance down, then embarrassedly     takes his chair.     SERIES OF CLOSE SHOTS                                  4               DR. PHILIP HILLYER is animposing            (a)               businessman, wearing full sideburns.               He stares stonily at the last empty               chair, then at Filby with annoyance.               ANTHONY BRIDEWELL, a man of theworld,       (b)               impeccably attired in the latest fashion,               welcomes Filby the only way he knows, by               lifting his glass of whiskey.               WALTER KEMP, a middle aged man withkeen     (c)               black piercing eyes, angrily chews on               his Havana.               Filby fidgets uncomfortably in his chair     (d)               as               Hillyer glances impatiently athis           (e)               watch, comparing time with a GRAND-               FATHER CLOCK behind him, then snaps               it shut and glares at:     EMPTY CHAIR - MED.SHOT                                5     Conspicuously unoccupied.     GRANDFATHER CLOCK - CLOSE SHOT                         6     Reaching the hour of eight, it begins to STRIKE ITS     YELLOW CHIMES.  Othertimepieces JOIN IN the announce-     ment.     GROUPSHOT                                              7     The men look at each other until the CHIMES, BELLS     ETC. FADE away.  Dr. Hillyer angrily slaps on the     armof his leather chair.                         DR. HILLYER               I say, this is outright rude of the man!                         FILBEY               He's undoubtedly beendetained.  That's               all.     Bridewell, filling his glass, is trying to say some-     thing but is interrupted by                         KEMP (unscrews the cigar from                    his tight lips)               This is such aconfounded waste of               time!  If he's not coming, I've any               number of more important things to do.     All heads turn as Mrs. Watchett enters, closing the     door quietly behind her.  With an envelope inher     hand she stands there, hesitating.                         DR. HILLYER               Speak up -- what is it, woman?     She is taken aback for a moment, then walks over     to Filby and hands him the openenvelope.  He     takes his time in extracting the note.                         BRIDEWELL               Well...are we or are we not invited               to dinner?                         FILBY (reading)               Apparently weare.                    (to Mrs. Watchett)               How long has he been gone?                         MRS. WATCHETT (nervously)               I can't rightly say, sir. - Several               days...I hardly catch a glimpseof               him lately.  He never leaves the               laboratory and comes out only to               nibble at his meals...but he did tell               me days ago about dinner tonight and               left theseinstructions.                    (pointing to note)                         FILBY               Thank you, Mrs. Watchett.     A faint, nervous smile is her acknowledgement and     with that she retreats toward thedoor.                         DR. HILLYER (indicating the                    note)               What does it say, Filby?  What's               wrong?                         FILBY               Nothing really. - George merelysays               that if he is not here by eight we're               to begin without him.     Kemp tears the note out of Filby's hand and reads it     hurriedly.  Meanwhile, Mrs. Watchett swings the door     open and turnsaround.                         MRS. WATCHETT               Dinner is served, gentlemen!                         BRIDEWELL (puts his glass                    down)               First sensible thing I've heardall               evening.     He rises and starts for the dining room.  The others     follow.     FILBY, HILLYER & KEMP - MOVING SHOT                    8     As they walk toward the DININGROOM.                         FILBY               This is peculiar.  He is usually very               prompt, precise and punctual.                         DR. HILLYER               He's making fools of us byinviting               us here and then not showing up.               It's not the behavior of a gentleman.                         KEMP               To say nothing of the waste of               time.                         DR. HILLYER(agreeing)               To say nothing of the waste of               time.     Bridewell, already seated at the heavily laden dining     table, pours a glass of wine for himself while the     others settle down.  This time the chairat the head     of the table is conspicuously unoccupied.                         BRIDWELL (arises, lifting                    his glass)               One thing I will say for George, he               keeps the best cellar in the southof               England...and Mrs. Watchett is the               finest cook in the world. - I think               I'll drink to that!     The glass barely touches his lips as he freezes at     the SOUND OF DROPPING TRAYS and aPIERCING SCREAM.     All look in the direction of another door across     the room.     THE DOOR - FULL SHOT                                   9     It bursts inward and Mrs. Watchett, her hair flying,     dashes downthe steps panic-stricken into the room.     The CAMERA RUSHES with her to the table where the     men have come to their feet.  Clutching Filby's arm,     she points toward the long corridor now revealed by     the opendoor.                         MRS. WATCHETT (frightened)               There!...there...     All stare o.s., Hillyer with the carving knife     clasped in his hand.     CORRIDOR THROUGH DOORWAY - FULLSHOT                   10     We see the figure of a man approaching, a black     silhouette against the pale glow at the end of     the passage.  He is bent with exhaustion and     sways as he moves forward,limping.  The man comes     closer, his features still blacked out by shadows,     but as he nears the doorway, the light from the     room strikes first his legs, then his body and     finally his face.  Here he stops.     Thisis our first meeting with the TIME TRAVELLER     (for so it will be convenient to speak of him).  At     this instant he is in a sorry state.  His clothing     is tattered and dirty, his face pale, bruised and     scratched and his


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The American Senator, by Anthony TrollopeThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: The American SenatorAuthor: Anthony TrollopeRelease Date: May 4, 2002  [eBook #5118]Most recentlyupdated: April 8, 2011Language: English***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICAN SENATOR***E-text prepared by Tapio Riikonenand revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.THE AMERICANSENATORbyAnthony TrollopeFirst published in serial form in _Temple Bar Magazine_ May, 1876,through July, 1877, and in book form in 1877 by Chapman and Hall.CONTENTS   VOLUME I.          I.DILLSBOROUGH.         II. THE MORTON FAMILY.        III. THE MASTERS FAMILY.         IV. THE DILLSBOROUGH CLUB.          V. REGINALD MORTON.         VI. NOT IN LOVE.        VII. THE WALK HOME.       VIII. THEPARAGON'S PARTY AT BRAGTON.         IX. THE OLD KENNELS.          X. GOARLY'S REVENGE.         XI. FROM IMPINGTON GORSE.        XII. ARABELLA TREFOIL.       XIII. AT BRAGTON.        XIV. THE DILLSBOROUGHFEUD.         XV. A FIT COMPANION,--FOR ME AND MY SISTERS.        XVI. MR. GOTOBED'S PHILANTHROPY.       XVII. LORD RUFFORD'S INVITATION.      XVIII. THE ATTORNEY'S FAMILY IS DISTURBED.        XIX. "WHOVALUED THE GEESE?"         XX. THERE ARE CONVENANCES.        XXI. THE FIRST EVENING AT RUFFORD HALL.       XXII. JEMIMA.      XXIII. POOR CANEBACK.       XXIV. THE BALL.        XXV. THE LAST MORNING ATRUFFORD HALL.       XXVI. GIVE ME SIX MONTHS.      XXVII. "WONDERFUL BIRD!"   VOLUME II.          I. MOUNSER GREEN.         II. THE SENATOR'S LETTER.        III. AT CHELTENHAM.         IV. THE RUFFORDCORRESPONDENCE.          V. "IT IS A LONG WAY."         VI. THE BEGINNING OF PERSECUTION.        VII. MARY'S LETTER.       VIII. CHOWTON FARM FOR SALE.         IX. MISTLETOE.          X. HOW THINGS WEREARRANGED.         XI. "YOU ARE SO SEVERE."        XII. THE DAY AT PELTRY.       XIII. LORD RUFFORD WANTS TO SEE A HORSE.        XIV. THE SENATOR IS BADLY TREATED.         XV. MR. MAINWARING'S LITTLEDINNER.        XVI. PERSECUTION.       XVII. "PARTICULARLY PROUD OF YOU."      XVIII. LORD RUFFORD MAKES UP HIS MIND.        XIX. IT CANNOT BE ARRANGED.         XX. "BUT THERE IS SOME ONE."        XXI. THEDINNER AT THE BUSH.       XXII. MISS TREFOIL'S DECISION.      XXIII. "IN THESE DAYS ONE CAN'T MAKE A MAN MARRY."       XXIV. THE SENATOR'S SECOND LETTER.        XXV. PROVIDENCE INTERFERES.       XXVI.LADY USHANT AT BRAGTON.      XXVII. ARABELLA AGAIN AT BRAGTON.   VOLUME III.          I. "I HAVE TOLD HIM EVERYTHING."         II. "NOW WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY?"        III. MRS. MORTONRETURNS.         IV. THE TWO OLD LADIES.          V. THE LAST EFFORT.         VI. AGAIN AT MISTLETOE.        VII. THE SUCCESS OF LADY AUGUSTUS.       VIII. "WE SHALL KILL EACH OTHER."         IX. CHANGES ATBRAGTON.          X. THE WILL.         XI. THE NEW MINISTER.        XII. "I MUST GO."       XIII. IN THE PARK.        XIV. LORD RUFFORD'S MODEL FARM.         XV. SCROBBY'S TRIAL.        XVI. AT LAST.       XVII. "MYOWN, OWN HUSBAND."      XVIII. "BID HIM BE A MAN."        XIX. "IS IT TANTI?"         XX. BENEDICT.        XXI. ARABELLA'S SUCCESS.       XXII. THE WEDDING.      XXIII. THE SENATOR'S LECTURE.--NO. I.       XXIV.THE SENATOR'S LECTURE.--NO. II.        XXV. THE LAST DAYS OF MARY MASTERS.       XXVI. CONCLUSION.VOLUME I.CHAPTER I.DILLSBOROUGH.I never could understand why anybody should ever have begun toliveat Dillsborough, or why the population there should have been at anytime recruited by new comers. That a man with a family should clingto a house in which he has once established himself is intelligible.The butcherwho supplied Dillsborough, or the baker, or theironmonger, though he might not drive what is called a roaring trade,nevertheless found himself probably able to live, and might wellhesitate before he would encounterthe dangers of a more energeticlocality. But how it came to pass that he first got himself toDillsborough, or his father, or his grandfather before him, hasalways been a mystery to me. The town has no attractions, andneverhad any. It does not stand on a bed of coal and has no connectionwith iron. It has no water peculiarly adapted for beer, or fordyeing, or for the cure of maladies. It is not surrounded by beautyof scenery strongenough to bring tourists and holiday travellers.There is no cathedral there to form, with its bishops, prebendaries,and minor canons, the nucleus of a clerical circle. It manufacturesnothing specially. It has no great horsefair, or cattle fair, oreven pig market of special notoriety. Every Saturday farmers andgraziers and buyers of corn and sheep do congregate in a sleepyfashion about the streets, but Dillsborough has no character ofitsown, even as a market town. Its chief glory is its parish church,which is ancient and inconvenient, having not as yet received any ofthose modern improvements which have of late become commonthroughoutEngland; but its parish church, though remarkable, is hardlycelebrated. The town consists chiefly of one street which is over amile long, with a square or market-place in the middle, round whicha few laneswith queer old names are congregated, and a second smallopen space among these lanes, in which the church stands. As youpass along the street north-west, away from the railway station andfrom London, there is asteep hill, beginning to rise just beyondthe market-place. Up to that point it is the High Street, thenceit is called Bullock's Hill. Beyond that you come to NorringtonRoad,--Norrington being the next town, distant fromDillsboroughabout twelve miles. Dillsborough, however, stands in the county ofRufford, whereas at the top of Bullock's Hill you enter the countyof Ufford, of which Norrington is the assize town. The Dillsboroughpeopleare therefore divided, some two thousand five hundred ofthem belonging to Rufford, and the remaining five hundred to theneighbouring county. This accident has given rise to not a fewfeuds, Ufford being a largecounty, with pottery, and ribbons,and watches going on in the farther confines; whereas Rufford issmall and thoroughly agricultural. The men at the top of Bullock'sHill are therefore disposed to think themselves betterthan theirfellow-townsfolks, though they are small in number and not speciallythriving in their circumstances.At every interval of ten years, when the census is taken, thepopulation of Dillsborough is always found tohave fallen off in someslight degree. For a few months after the publication of the figuresa slight tinge of melancholy comes upon the town. The landlord of theBush Inn, who is really an enterprising man in his way andwho haslooked about in every direction for new sources of business, becomestaciturn for a while and forgets to smile upon comers; Mr. Ribbs,the butcher, tells his wife that it is out of the question that sheand thechildren should take that long-talked-of journey to thesea-coast; and Mr. Gregory Masters, the well-known old-establishedattorney of Dillsborough, whispers to some confidential friend thathe might as well take downhis plate and shut up his house. But in amonth or two all that is forgotten, and new hopes spring up even inDillsborough; Mr. Runciman at the Bush is putting up new stables forhunting-horses, that being the specialtrade for which he now findsthat there is an opening; Mrs. Ribbs is again allowed to suggestMare-Slocumb; and Mr. Masters goes on as he has done for the lastforty years, making the best he can of a decreasingbusiness.Dillsborough is built chiefly of brick, and is, in its own way,solid enough. The Bush, which in the time of the present landlord'sfather was one of the best posting inns on the road, is not onlysubstantial, butalmost handsome. A broad coach way, cut through themiddle of the house, leads into a spacious, well-kept, clean yard,and on each side of the coach way there are bay windows looking intothe street,--the onebelonging to the commercial parlour, and theother to the so-called coffee-room. But the coffee-room has in truthfallen away from its former purposes, and is now used for a farmer'sordinary on market days, and othersimilar purposes. Travellers whorequire the use of a public sitting-room must all congregate in thecommercial parlour at the Bush. So far the interior of the house hasfallen from its past greatness. But the exterior ismaintained withmuch care. The brickwork up to the eaves is well pointed, fresh, andcomfortable to look at. In front of the carriage-way swings on twomassive supports the old sign of the Bush, as to which it maybedoubted whether even Mr. Runciman himself knows that it has swungthere, or been displayed in some fashion, since it was the custom forthe landlord to beat up wine to freshen it before it was given to thecustomersto drink. The church, too, is of brick--though the towerand chancel are of stone. The attorney's house is of brick, whichshall not be more particularly described now as many of the sceneswhich these pages will have todescribe were acted there; and almostthe entire High Street in the centre of the town was brick also.But the most remarkable house in Dillsborough was one standing in ashort thoroughfare called Hobbs Gate, leadingdown by the side of theBush Inn from the market-place to Church Square, as it is called. Asyou pass down towards the church this house is on the right hand, andit occupies with its garden the whole space between themarket-placeand Church Square. But though the house enjoys the privilege of alarge garden,--so large that the land being in the middle of a townwould be of great value were it not that Dillsborough is initsdecadence,--still it stands flush up to the street upon which thefront door opens. It has an imposing flight of stone steps guardedby iron rails leading up to it, and on each side of the door thereis a row of threewindows, and on the two upper stories rows ofseven windows. Over the door there is a covering, on which there aregrotesquely-formed, carved wooden faces; and over the centre of eachwindow, let into the brickwork,is a carved stone. There are alsonumerous underground windows, sunk below the earth and protectedby iron railings. Altogether the house is one which cannot fail toattract attention; and in the brickwork is clearlymarked the date,1701,--not the very best period for English architecture as regardsbeauty, but one in which walls and roofs, ceilings and buttresses,were built more substantially than they are to-day. This was theonlyhouse in Dillsborough which had a name of its own, and it was calledHoppet Hall, the Dillsborough chronicles telling that it had beenoriginally built for and inhabited by the Hoppet family. The onlyHoppet now left inDillsborough is old Joe Hoppet, the ostler at theBush; and the house, as was well known, had belonged to some memberof the Morton family for the last hundred years at least. The gardenand ground it stands uponcomprise three acres, all of which aresurrounded by a high brick wall, which is supposed to be coevalwith the house. The best Ribston pippins,--some people say the onlyreal Ribston pippins,--in all Rufford are to befound here, and itsBurgundy pears and walnuts are almost equally celebrated. There arerumours also that its roses beat everything in the way of roses forten miles round. But in these days very few strangers areadmittedto see the Hoppet Hall roses. The pears and apples do make their wayout, and are distributed either by Mrs. Masters, the attorney's wife,or Mr. Runciman, the innkeeper. The present occupier of the houseis acertain Mr. Reginald Morton, with whom we shall also be muchconcerned in these pages, but whose introduction to the reader shallbe postponed for awhile.The land around Dillsborough is chiefly owned by twolandlords, ofwhom the greatest and richest is Lord Rufford. He, however, does notlive near the town, but away at the other side of the county, and isnot much seen in these parts unless when the hounds bring himhere,or when, with two or three friends, he will sometimes stay for a fewdays at the Bush Inn for the sake of shooting the coverts. He is muchliked by all sporting men, but is not otherwise very popular withthe peopleround Dillsborough. A landlord if he wishes to be popularshould be seen frequently. If he lives among his farmers they willswear by him, even though he raises his rental every ten or twelveyears and never puts a newroof to a barn for them. Lord Rufford isa rich man who thinks of nothing but sport in all its various shapes,from pigeon-shooting at Hurlingham to the slaughter of elephants inAfrica; and though he is lenient in all hisdealings, is not muchthought of in the Dillsborough side of the county, except by thosewho go out with the hounds. At Rufford, where he generally has a fullhouse for three months in the year and spends a vast amountof money,he is more highly considered.The other extensive landlord is Mr. John Morton, a young man, who, inspite of his position as squire of Bragton, owner of Bragton Park,and landlord of the entire parishes ofBragton and Mallingham,--thelatter of which comes close up to the confines of Dillsborough,--wasat the time at which our story begins, Secretary of Legation atWashington. As he had been an absentee since he came ofage,--soonafter which time he inherited the property,--he had been almostless liked in the neighbourhood than the lord. Indeed, no one inDillsborough knew much about him, although Bragton Hall was but fourmilesfrom the town, and the Mortons had possessed the propertyand lived on it for the last three centuries. But there had beenextravagance, as will hereafter have to be told, and there had beenno continuous residence atBragton since the death of old ReginaldMorton, who had been the best known and the best loved of all thesquires in Rufford, and had for many years been master of theRufford hounds. He had lived to a very great age,and, though thegreat-grandfather of the present man, had not been dead above twentyyears. He was the man of whom the older inhabitants of Dillsboroughand the neighbourhood still thought and still spoke when theygavevent to their feelings in favour of gentlemen. And yet the oldsquire in his latter days had been able to do little or nothingfor them,--being sometimes backward as to the payment of money heowed among them. Buthe had lived all his days at Bragton Park,and his figure had been familiar to all eyes in the High Street ofDillsborough and at the front entrance of the Bush. People stillspoke of old Mr. Reginald Morton as though hisdeath had been a soreloss to the neighbourhood.And there were in the country round sundry yeomen, as they oughtto be called,--gentlemen-farmers as they now like to stylethemselves,--men who owned some acresof land, and farmed these acresthemselves. Of these we may specially mention Mr. Lawrence Twentyman,who was quite the gentleman-farmer. He possessed over three hundredacres of land, on which his father hadbuilt an excellent house. Thepresent Mr. Twentyman,--Lawrence Twentyman, Esquire, as he was calledby everybody,--was by no means unpopular in the neighbourhood. He notonly rode well to hounds but paidtwenty-five pounds annually to thehunt, which entitled him to feel quite at home in his red coat. Hegenerally owned a racing colt or two, and attended meetings; but wassupposed to know what he was about, and tohave kept safely the fiveor six thousand pounds which his father had left him. And his farmingwas well done; for though he was, out-and-out, a gentleman-farmer,he knew how to get the full worth in work done for thefourteenshillings a week which he paid to his labourers,--a deficiency inwhich knowledge is the cause why gentlemen in general find farming soexpensive an amusement. He was a handsome, good-looking man ofaboutthirty, and would have been a happy man had he not been too ambitiousin his aspirations after gentry. He had been at school for threeyears at Cheltenham College, which, together with his money andappearanceand undoubted freehold property, should, he thought, havemade his position quite secure to him; but, though he sometimescalled young Hampton of Hampton Wick "Hampton," and the son of therector of Dillsborough"Mainwaring," and always called the rich youngbrewers from Norrington "Botsey,"--partners in the well-known firm ofBillbrook & Botsey; and though they in return called him "Larry" andadmitted the intimacy, still hedid not get into their houses. AndLord Rufford, when he came into the neighbourhood, never asked him todine at the Bush. And--worst of all,--some of the sporting men andothers in the neighbourhood, who decidedlywere not gentlemen, alsocalled him "Larry." Mr. Runciman always did so. Twenty or twenty-fiveyears ago Runciman had been his father's special friend,--beforethe house had been built and before the days atCheltenham College.Remembering this Lawrence was too good a fellow to rebuke Runciman;but to younger men of that class he would sometimes make himselfobjectionable. There was another keeper of huntingstables, a youngerman, named Stubbings, living at Stanton Corner, a great huntingrendezvous about four miles from Dillsborough; and not long sinceTwentyman had threatened to lay his whip across Stubbings'shouldersif Stubbings ever called him "Larry" again. Stubbings, who was alittle man and rode races, only laughed at Mr. Twentyman who was sixfeet high, and told the story round to all the hunt. Mr. Twentymanwasmore laughed at than perhaps he deserved. A man should not havehis Christian name used by every Tom and Dick without his sanction.But the difficulty is one to which men in the position of Mr.Lawrence Twentymanare often subject.Those whom I have named, together with Mr. Mainwaring the rector,and Mr. Surtees his curate, made up the very sparse aristocracy ofDillsborough. The Hamptons of Hampton Wick were Ufford men,andbelonged rather to Norrington than Dillsborough. The Botseys, alsofrom Norrington, were members of the U. R. U., or Ufford and RuffordUnited Hunt Club; but they did not much affect Dillsborough as atown. Mr.Mainwaring, who has been mentioned, lived in another brickhouse behind the church,--the old parsonage of St. John's. Therewas also a Mrs. Mainwaring, but she was an invalid. Their familyconsisted of one son, whowas at Brasenose at this time. He alwayshad a horse during the Christmas vacation, and if rumour did notbelie him, kept two or three up at Oxford. Mr. Surtees, the curate,lived in lodgings in the town. He was apainstaking, eager, cleveryoung man, with aspirations in church matters, which were alwaysbeing checked by his rector. Quieta non movere was the motto by whichthe rector governed his life, and he certainly was notat all the manto allow his curate to drive him into activity.Such, at the time of our story, was the little town of Dillsborough.CHAPTER II.THE MORTON FAMILY.I can hardly describe accurately the exact position of theMastersfamily without first telling all that I know about the Morton family;and it is absolutely essential that the reader should know all theMasters family intimately. Mr. Masters, as I have said in the lastchapter, was theattorney in Dillsborough, and the Mortons had beenfor centuries past the squires of Bragton.I need not take the reader back farther than old Reginald Morton.He had come to the throne of his family as a young man,and had satupon it for more than half a century. He had been a squire of the oldtimes, having no inclination for London seasons, never wishing tokeep up a second house, quite content with his position as squireofBragton, but with considerable pride about him as to that position.He had always liked to have his house full, and had hated pettyoeconomies. He had for many years hunted the county at his ownexpense,--theamusement at first not having been so expensive as itafterwards became. When he began the work, it had been consideredsufficient to hunt twice a week. Now the Rufford and Uffordhounds have four days, andsometimes a bye. It went much againstMr. Reginald Morton's pride when he was first driven to take asubscription.But the temporary distress into which the family fell was caused notso much by his own extravagance asby that of two sons, and by hisindulgence in regard to them. He had three children, none of whomwere very fortunate in life. The eldest, John, married the daughterof a peer, stood for Parliament, had one son, and diedbefore he wasforty, owing something over Â£20,000. The estate was then worth Â£7,000a year. Certain lands not lying either in Bragton or Mallingham weresold, and that difficulty was surmounted, not without a


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                           LINCOLN                          Written by                         TonyKushner                                                                                Based in Part on           Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln           By Doris KearnsGoodwin                                                                                Final Shooting Script                                                     December 20, 2011          EXT.BATTLEFIELD, JENKINS' FERRY, ARKANSAS - DAY                                   Heavy grey skies hang over a flooded field, the water two          feet deep. Cannons and carts, half-submerged and tilted,          theirwheels trapped in the mud below the surface, are still          yoked to dead and dying horses and oxen.                                   A terrible battle is taking place; two infantry companies,          Negro Union soldiers andwhite Confederate soldiers, knee-          deep in the water, staggering because of the mud beneath,          fight each other hand-to-hand, with rifles, bayonets,          pistols, knives and fists. There's no discipline orstrategy,          nothing depersonalized: it's mayhem and each side intensely          hates the other. Both have resolved to take no prisoners.                                    HAROLD GREEN (V.O.)           Some of uswas in the Second Kansas           Colored. We fought the rebs at           Jenkins' Ferry last April, just           after they'd killed every Negro           soldier they captured atPoison           Springs.                                                            EXT. PARADE GROUNDS ADJACENT TO THE WASHINGTON NAVY YARD,          ANACOSTIA RIVER - NIGHT                                   Rainand fog. Union Army companies are camped out across the          grounds. Preparations are being made for the impending          assault on the Confederate port of Wilmington,North          Carolina.                                   Two black soldiers stand before a bivouacked Negro unit:          HAROLD GREEN, an infantryman in his late thirties, and IRA          CLARK, a cavalryman in his earlytwenties. ABRAHAM LINCOLN          sits on a bench facing Harold and Ira; his stovepipe hat is          at his side.                                                   HAROLD GREEN           So at Jenkins' Ferry, wedecided           warn't taking no reb prisoners.           And we didn't leave a one of `em           alive. The ones of us that didn't           die that day, we joined up with the           116th U.S. Colored, sir. FromCamp           Nelson Kentucky.                                                   LINCOLN           What's your name, soldier?                                                   HAROLD GREEN           Private Harold Green,sir.           2.                                                                            IRA CLARK           I'm Corporal Ira Clark, sir. Fifth           Massachusetts Cavalry. We're           waiting overthere.                                   He nods in the direction of his cavalry.                                    IRA CLARK (CONT'D)           We're leaving our horses behind,           and shipping out with the24th           Infantry for the assault next week           on Wilmington.                                                   LINCOLN           (to Harold Green:)           How long've you been asoldier?                                                   HAROLD GREEN           Two year, sir.                                                   LINCOLN           Second Kansas Colored Infantry,           they fought bravely atJenkins'           Ferry.                                    HAROLD GREEN IRA CLARK          That's right, sir. They killed a thousand rebel           soldiers, sir. They were very           brave.           (hesitating,then)           And making three dollars less           each month than white           soldiers.                                   Harold Green is a little startled at Clark's bluntness.                                                   HAROLDGREEN           Us 2nd Kansas boys, whenever we           fight now we -                                                   IRA CLARK           Another three dollars subtracted           from our pay for ouruniforms.                                                   HAROLD GREEN           That was true, yessir, but that                          CHANGED -                                                   IRA CLARK           Equalpay now. Still no           commissioned Negro officers.                                                   LINCOLN           I am aware of it, CorporalClark.           3.                                                                            IRA CLARK           Yes, sir, that's good you're aware,           sir. It's only that -                                                   HAROLDGREEN           (to Lincoln, trying to           change the subject:)           You think the Wilmington attack is           gonna be -                                                   IRA CLARK           Now that white peoplehave           accustomed themselves to seeing           Negro men with guns, fighting on           their behalf, and now that they can           tolerate Negro soldiers getting the           same pay - in a few yearsperhaps           they can abide the idea of Negro           lieutenants and captains. In fifty           years, maybe a Negro colonel. In a           hundred years - the vote.                                   Green's offended at the wayClark is talking to Lincoln.                                                   LINCOLN           What'll you do after the war,           Corporal Clark?                                                   IRA CLARK           Work, sir.Perhaps you'll hire me.                                                   LINCOLN           Perhaps I will.                                                   IRA CLARK           But you should know, sir, that I           get sick at thesmell of bootblack           and I can't cut hair.                                   Lincoln smiles.                                                   LINCOLN           I've yet to find a man could cut           mine so it'd make anydifference.                                                   HAROLD GREEN           You got springy hair for a white           man.                                   Lincolnlaughs.           4.                                                                            LINCOLN           Yes, I do. My last barber hanged           himself. And the one before that.           Left me his scissors in hiswill.                                   Green laughs.                                   TWO WHITE SOLDIERS have come up, two young kids, nervous and          excited.                                                             FIRST WHITESOLDIER LINCOLN          President Lincoln, sir? Evening, boys.                                    SECOND WHITE SOLDIER           Damn! Damn!           We, we saw you, um. We were at, at-                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER           We was at Gettysburg!                                    HAROLD GREEN SECOND WHITE SOLDIER          You boys fight at Gettysburg? DAMN I can'tbelieve it's -                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER (CONT'D)           (to Green, with mild                          CONTEMPT)           Naw, we didn't fight there.           We just signed up lastmonth.           We saw him two years ago at the           cemetery dedication.                                    SECOND WHITE SOLDIER           Yeah, we heard you speak! We...           DAMN DAMN DAMN! Uh, hey,how tall           are you anyway?!                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER           Jeez, SHUT up!                                                   LINCOLN           Could you hear what Isaid?                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER           No, sir, not much, it was-                                    SECOND WHITE SOLDIER           (he recites, fastand                          MECHANICALLY:)           "Four score and seven years ago,           our fathers brought forth on this           continent a new nation, conceived           in liberty and dedicated tothe           5.                                                             proposition that all men are           created equal."                                                   LINCOLN           That's good, thank you for-                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER           "Now we are engaged in a great           civil war, testing whether that           nation or any nation so conceived           and so dedicated can longendure.           We are, we are, we are met on a           great battlefield of that war."                                                   LINCOLN           Thank you, that's -                                    SECOND WHITESOLDIER           "We have come to dedicate a portion           of that field as a final resting           place for those who here gave their           lives that that nation might live.           It is..."           (He chokes up alittle.)                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER           His uncles, they died on the second           day of fighting.                                                             SECOND WHITE SOLDIER A VOICE(O.C.)          I know the last part. "It is, Company up! Move it out!          uh, it is rather -"                                   Soldiers all over the field rise up at the mustering of the          troops. Names of regiments,brigades, divisions are called:          all across the field, the men put out fires, put on          knapsacks.                                                   LINCOLN           (to the twowhite                          SOLDIERS:)           You fellas best find your company.                                    FIRST WHITE SOLDIER                          (SALUTING LINCOLN:)           Thank you,sir. God bless you!                                                   LINCOLN           God bless you.                                   The second white soldier salutes, and the two moveout.           6.                                                            Green salutes Lincoln as well and glances at Clark, who          remains, looking down. Green leaves. Clark looks up, salutes          Lincoln and, turningsmartly, walks toward his unit.                                   Then he stops, turns back, faces Lincoln, who watches him. A          beat, and then, in a tone of admiration and cautious          admonishment, reminding Lincolnof his promise:                                                   IRA CLARK           "That we here highly resolve that           these dead shall not have died in                          VAIN --"                                   Clark salutes Lincoln again, turns again and walks away.          Lincoln watches him go. As he walks into the fog, Clark          continues reciting in a powerfulvoice:                                    IRA CLARK (CONT'D)           " - That this nation, under God,           shall have a new birth of freedom --           and that government of the people,           by the people, for thepeople,           shall not perish from the earth."                                   Lincoln watches Clark until the fog's swallowed him up.                                                  TITLE:                                    JANUARY,