_Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who has kindly consented to undertake the part_). _Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind permission of_ Mr. D’OYLY CARTE). SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam Cupboard, and orchard in distance._ _Enter_ JOE. “As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought no one saw but himself.”--_Vide Poem._ _Joe_ (_dreamily_.) ’Tis passing strange that I so partial am To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam! [_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous Satirical Medley illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and entitled,_ “Some little Gymes we all of us ’ave Plied;” _after which, Enter_ JOE’S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_. “His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe pears and ripe plums.”--_Poem._ _Joe’s Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)-- Let’s hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums, Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums. [_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right hand._ _Solo_--JOHN. Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome-- Otherwise if eaten green. Once I know a boy who stole some-- [_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his confusion._ His internal pangs were keen! _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). ’Tis the doom of all who’re mean, Their internal pangs are keen! _Joe’s Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured! I’ll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard. [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._ _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I’ll stay till you have done. Temptation it is ever best to shun! _Joe’s M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it-- (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet! _Chorus._ Away we go tripping, From boughs to be stripping Each pear, plum, and pippin Pomona supplies! When homeward we’ve brought ’em, Those products of Autumn, We’ll carefully sort ’em (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_), According to size! [_Repeat as they caper out._ [JOE’S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard door._ _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried That cupboard--just to see what’s kept inside? [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._ There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, For such a prize I’d laugh to scorn a stomach-ache! [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._