Busy indeed was Cash, from this time forward, in explaining to gapingcrowds the exact appearance of the piano, how he had actually taken holdof it, and, as his friend Mo Mercer observed, "pulled music out of it."
The curiosity of the village was thus allayed, and consequently diedcomparatively away,--Cash, however, having risen to almost as muchimportance as Mo Mercer, for having seen and handled the thing.
Our "Northern family" knew little or nothing of all this excitement;they received meanwhile the visits and congratulations of the hospitablevillagers, and resolved to give a grand party to return some of thekindness they had received, and the piano was, for the first time, movedinto the parlor. No invitation on this occasion was neglected; early atthe post was every visitor, for it was rumored that Miss PatienceDoolittle would, in the course of the evening, "perform on the piano."
The excitement was immense. The supper was passed over with a contemptrivaling that which is cast upon an excellent farce played preparatoryto a dull tragedy in which the star is to appear. The furniture was allcritically examined, but nothing could be discovered answering Cash'sdescription. An enormously thick-leafed table with a "spread" upon itattracted little attention, timber being so very cheap in a new country,and so everybody expected soon to see the piano "brought in."
Mercer, of course, was the hero of the evening: he talked much andloudly. Cash, as well as several young ladies, went into hysterics athis wit. Mercer, as the evening wore away, grew exceedingly conceited,even for him; and he graciously asserted that the company presentreminded him of his two visits to the "Capitol," and other associationsequally exclusive and peculiar.
The evening wore on apace, and still no piano. That hope deferred whichmaketh the heart sick was felt by some elderly ladies and by a fewyounger ones; and Mercer was solicited to ask Miss Patience Doolittle tofavor the company with the presence of the piano.
"Certainly," said Mercer and with the grace of a city dandy he calledupon the lady to gratify all present with a little music, prefacing hisrequest with the remark that if she was fatigued "his friend Cash wouldgive the machine a turn."
Miss Patience smiled, and looked at Cash.
Cash's knees trembled.
All eyes in the room turned upon him.
Cash trembled all over.
Miss Patience said she was gratified to hear that Mr. Cash was amusician; she admired people who had a musical taste. Whereupon Cashfell into a chair, as he afterward observed, "chawed up."
Oh that Beau Brummel or any of his admirers could have seen Mo Mercerall this while! Calm as a summer morning, complacent as a newly-paintedsign, he smiled and patronized, and was the only unexcited person in theroom.
Miss Patience rose. A sigh escaped from all present: the piano wasevidently to be brought in. She approached the thick-leafed table andremoved the covering, throwing it carelessly and gracefully aside,opened the instrument, and presented the beautiful arrangement of darkand white keys.
Mo Mercer at this, for the first time in his life, looked confused: hewas Cash's authority in his descriptions of the appearance of the piano;while Cash himself began to recover the moment that he ceased to be anobject of attention. Many a whisper now ran through the room as to the"tones," and more particularly the "crank"; none could see them.
Miss Patience took her seat, ran her fingers over a few octaves, and if"Moses in Egypt" was not perfectly _executed_, Moses in Hardscrabble_was_. The dulcet sound ceased. "Miss," said Cash, the moment that hecould express himself, so entranced was he by the music,--"MissDoolittle, what was the instrument Mo Mercer showed me in your galleryonce, it went by a crank and had rollers in it?"
It was now the time for Miss Patience to blush: so away went the bloodfrom confusion to her cheeks. She hesitated, stammered, and said, if Mr.Cash must know, it was a-a-a-_Yankee washing-machine_.
The name grated on Mo Mercer's ears as if rusty nails had been thrustinto them; the heretofore invulnerable Mercer's knees trembled, thesweat started to his brow, as he heard the taunting whispers of"visiting the Capitol twice" and seeing pianos as plenty as woodchucks.
The fashionable vices of envy and maliciousness were that moment sown inthe village of Hardscrabble; and Mo Mercer, the great, the confident,the happy and self-possessed, surprising as it may seem, was the firstvictim sacrificed to their influence.
Time wore on, and pianos became common, and Mo Mercer less popular; andhe finally disappeared altogether, on the evening of the day on which aYankee peddler of notions sold to the highest bidder, "six patent,warranted, and improved Mo Mercer pianos."
WHAR DEM SINFUL APPLES GROW
BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON
Ol' Adam he live in de Gyardin uv Eden, ('Way down yonner) He didn' know writin' an' he didn' know readin', ('Way down yonner) He stay dar erlone jes' eatin' an' a-sleepin', He say, "Dis mighty po' comp'ny I'se a-keepin'," 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
So dey tuck ol' Adam an' dey putt him a-nappin', ('Way down yonner) An' de fus' thing you know dish yer w'at happen, ('Way down yonner) Dey tucken his rib an' dey made a 'ooman, She mighty peart an' she spry an' she bloomin', 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
Dey 'spute sometimes an' he say, ol' Adam, ('Way down yonner) "You nuttin' but spar'-rib, nohow, madam," ('Way down yonner) She say, "Dat de trufe an' hit ain' a-hu't'n', Fer de spar'-rib's made f'um a hawg, dat's sut'n," 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
De Sarpint he slip in de Gyardin uv Eden, ('Way down yonner) He seed Mis' Eve an' he 'gun his pleadin', ('Way down yonner) 'Twel she tucken de apple an' den he quit 'er, Hissin', "Ho! ho! dat fruit mighty bitter." 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
Ol' Adam he say, "W'at dat you eatin'?" ('Way down yonner) "Please gimme a bite er dat summer-sweetin'," ('Way down yonner) She gin de big haff wid de core an' de seed in, An' dar whar she show her manners an' her breedin', 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
Den Adam he ac' right sneakin' sho'ly, ('Way down yonner) An' mek his 'scuse ter de Lawd right po'ly, ('Way down yonner) Blamin' Eve 'kase she do w'at he tell 'er, An' settin' dat 'zample fer many a feller, 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
Den de Lawd He say in de Gyardin uv Eden, ('Way down yonner) "No sech a man shell do my weedin'," ('Way down yonner) So fo'th f'um de Gyardin de Lawd He bid him, An' o' co'se Mis' Eve she up an' went wid him, 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow.
Oh, sinner, is you in de Gyardin uv Eden? ('Way down yonner) Is you on dem sinful apples feedin'? ('Way down yonner) Come out, oh, sinner, befo' youse driven, De debil gwine git you ef you goes on livin' 'Way down yonner whar dem sinful apples grow!
A NIGHT IN A ROCKING-CHAIR
BY KATE FIELD
It may be true that America is going to perdition; that all Americansare rascals; that there are no American gentlemen; that culture,refinement, and social manners can only be found in the Old World: butif it be true, what an extraordinary anomaly it is that women, old andyoung, ugly and handsome, can travel alone from one end of this greatcountry to the other, receiving only such attention as is acceptable.Having journeyed up and down the land to the extent of twenty thousandmiles, I am persuaded that a woman can go anywhere and do anything,provided she conducts herself properly. Of course it would be absurd todeny that it is not infinitely more agreeable to be accompanied by the"tyrant" called "man"; but when there is no tyrant to come to lovelywoman's rescue, it is astonishing how well lovely woman can rescueherself, if she exerts the brain and muscle, given her thousands ofyears ago, and not entirely annihilated by long disuse. I have beennowhere that I have not been treated with greater considerati
on than ifI had belonged to the other sex. There is not a country in Europe ofwhich this can be said; and if a nation's civilization is gauged--as thewise declare--by its treatment of women, then America, rough as it maybe, badly dressed as it is, tobacco-chewing as it often is, standshead, shoulders, and heart above all the rest of the world. TheFrenchwoman was right in declaring America to be _le paradis des dames_,and those women who exalt European gallantry above American honesty areas blind to their own interests as an owl at high noon.
There is no royal railroad to lecturing. At best it is hard work, butlecture committees "do their possible," as the Italians say, to lessenthe weight, and that "possible" is heartily appreciated by such of us asinwardly long for a natural bridge between stations and hotels. A womanis never so forlorn as when getting out of a car or entering a strangehotel.
However, there never was a rule without its exception, and thoughcourtesy has marked the majority of lecture committees for its own, alecturer may occasionally find himself stranded upon a desert ofindifference, and languish for the comforts of a home not twenty milesdistant. Thus it happened that once upon arriving at my destination whenthe shades of evening were falling fast, and glancing about for thecustomary smiling gentlemen who smooth out the rough places by carryingbags, superintending the transportation of luggage, and driving you toyour abiding-place in the best carriage of the period, I found nogentlemen, smiling or otherwise, to deliver me from my own ignorance.
"Carriage, ma'am?" screamed a Jehu in top-boots ornamented with agrotesque tracery of mud.
Well, yes, I would take a carriage; so up I clambered and sat down uponwhat in the darkness I supposed was a seat, but what gave such palpableevidences of animation in howls and attempts at assault and battery, asto prove its right to be called a boy. "An' sure the lady didn't mane tohurt ye, Jimmy," expostulated something that turned out to be the boy'smother, whereupon a baby and a small sister of the small boy sent forththeir voices in unison with that of their extinguished brother.
"Driver, let me get out," I said pathetically.
"Certainly, ma'am, but where will you go to? There ain't no othercarriage left."
True; and I remained, and when I was asked where I wanted to stop, Ireally did not know. Was there a hotel? Yes. Was there more than onehotel? No. I breathed more freely, and said I would go to the hotel.
The driver evidently entertained a poor opinion of my mental capacity,for he mumbled to himself that "people who didn't know where they wasagoin' had nuff sight better stay at home," and deposited me at thehotel with a caution against pickpockets. This was sufficientlyhumiliating, yet were there lower depths. Entering the parlor, I foundit monopolized by a young lady in green silk and red ribbons, and a pinkyoung man with his hair parted in the middle and his shirt-bosomresplendent with brilliants of the last water. They were at the piano,singing "Days of Absence" in a manner calculated to depress the mostbuoyant spirits. I rang the bell, and the green young lady and pinkyoung man began on the second verse. No answer. Again I rang the bell,and the songsters began on the third verse. No answer. Once more I rangthe bell, and the green young lady and pink young man piped upon thetouching lay of "No one to love." Little cared those "two souls withbut a single thought, two hearts that beat as one," for the third heartand soul, victim of misplaced confidence. Ring! I rang that bell until Iached to be a man for one brief moment. Does a man ever endure suchtorture? No. He puts on his hat, walks into the hotel office, givessomebody a piece of his mind, and demands the satisfaction of agentleman. But a woman can go to no office. She must remain up stairsand cultivate patience on hunger and thirst and a general mortificationof the senses. "Victory, or destruction to the bell!" I said at last,and pulled the rope with the desperation of a maniac.
"Did you ring?" asked a mild clerk, entering on the tips of his toes asif there were not enough of him to warrant so extravagant an expenditureas the use of his whole sole. Did I ring? I who had been doing nothingelse for half an hour! I who had but forty-five minutes in which to eatmy supper and dress for the lecture!
Presenting my card, I desired the mild clerk to show me to my room. Themild clerk was exceedingly sorry, but the committee had left no order,and there was not a vacant room in the house!
"What am I to do?" I asked in agony of spirit. "I _must_ have a room."
_Must_ is an overpowering word. Only say _must_ with all the emphasis ofwhich it is capable, and longings are likely to be realized.
Well, the mild clerk didn't know but as how he might turn out and let mehave _his_ room.
Blessed man! Had I been pope, he should have been canonized on the spot.Following him up several steep flights of stairs, lighted by a kerosenelamp that perfumed the air as only kerosene can, I was at last usheredinto a room where sat a young girl knitting. She seemed to be no moreastonished at my appearance than were the chairs and table, merelyremarking, when we were left alone, "That's my father. I suppose youwon't have any objections to my staying here as long as I please." Howcould I, an interloper, say "no" to the rightful proprietor of thatroom? I smiled feebly, and the damsel pursued her knitting with herfingers and me with her eyes, until everything in the room seemed toturn into eyes. The frightful thought came o'er me that perhaps mycompanion was "our own correspondent" for the "Daily Slasher!"--athought that sent my supper down the wrong way, deprived me of appetite,and made me thankful that my back hair did not come off! The damsel satand sat, knitted and knitted, until she had superintended everypreparation, and then, like an Arab, silently stole away.
What next? Why, the committee called for me at the appointed hour,seemed blandly ignorant of the fact that they had not done their wholeduty to woman, and maintained that walking was much better than driving.The wind blew, dust sought shelter within the recesses of eyes and earsand nose, but patient Griselda could not have behaved better than I. Infact, a woman who lectures must endure quietly what a singer or actresswould stoutly protest against, for the reason that lecturing brings downupon her the taunt of being "strong-minded," and any assertion of rightsor exhibition of temper is sure to be misconstrued into violent hatredof men and an insane desire to be President of the United States. Thiscan hardly be called logic, but it _is_ truth. Logic is an unknownquantity in the ordinary public estimation of women lecturers.
Inwardly cross and outwardly cold, I delivered my lecture, and went backto that much-populated room, thinking that at least I should obtain afew hours' sleep before starting off at "five o'clock in themorning,"--a nice hour to sing about, but a horrible one at which to getup. I approached the bed. Shade of that virtue which is next togodliness! the linen was--was--yes, it was--second-hand! and calmlyreposing on a pillow of doubtful color, my startled vision beheld an
"... ugly, creepin', blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd, by saunt an' sinner."
That I should come to this! I sought for a bell. Alas, there was none!Should I scream? No, that might bring out the fire-engines. Should I goin search of the housekeeper? How to find her at that hour of the night?No; rather than wander about a strange house in a strange place, I wouldsit up. Of course there was a rocking-chair; in that I took refuge, andthere I sat with a quaint old-fashioned clock for company, with suchstout lungs as to render sleep an impossibility. No fairy godmother camein at the key-hole to transform my chair into a couch and that talkativeclock into a handmaiden. No ghosts beguiled the weary hours. Eleven,twelve, one, two, three, four! As the clock struck this last hour, aporter pounded on the door, and, not long after, I was being driventhrough the cold, dark morning to a railroad station. My Jehu was he ofthe previous day, and a very nice fellow he turned out to be. "I didn'tknow it was you yesterday, you see, miss, or I wouldn't have saidnothing about pickpockets. You don't look like a lecturer, you see, andthat's what's the matter."
"Indeed, and how ought a lecturer to look?"
"Well, I don't exactly know, but I always supposed they didn't look likeyou. Reckon you don't enjoy staying around here in the dark, so I'lljust wait here till
the train comes," and there that good creatureremained until the belated train snatched me up and whisked off to thecity. When the express agent passed through the car to take thebaggage-checks, it was as good as a play to see the different ways inwhich people woke up. Some turned over and wouldn't wake up at all;others sat bolt upright and blinked; some were very cross, and wonderedwhy they could not be let alone; others, again, rubbed their eyes,scratched their heads, said "All right," and would have gone to sleepagain had not the agent shaken them into consciousness.
"Where do you go?" asked the agent of a quiet old gentleman sittingbefore me, who had previously given up his checks.
"Yes, exactly; that's my name," replied the old gentleman.
"Where do you go?" again asked the agent in a somewhat louder tone.
"Exactly, I told you so." And the old gentleman put a pockethandkerchief over his face as a preliminary to sleep.
"Well, I never," exclaimed the agent, who returned to the charge. "Iasked you where you wanted to go?"
"Precisely; that's my name."
"Confound your name!" muttered the agent. "You're either deaf or insane,and I guess you're deaf." So putting his mouth to the old gentleman'sear, he shouted, "Where--do--you--want--to--go?"
"O, really, the ---- House," was the mild answer to a question that sostartled everybody else as to cause one man to jump up and cry, "Fire!"very much to the gratification of his fellow-passengers. There isnothing more pleasing to human beings than to see somebody else makehimself ridiculous, and the amusement extracted from the contemplationof that car-load of men and women almost compensated me for the previousexperience.
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) Page 9