Cash ap his father's greatness alone would have stamped | end of the gallery, crossed by bars and rollers, and him with superiority; but his having been twice in surmounted with an enormous crank. the "Capitol" when the legislature was in session, proached it on tip-toe; he had a presentiment that stamped his claims to pre-eminence over all com- he beheld the object of his curiosity, and as its inpetitors. tricate character unfolded itself, he gazed with distended eyes; and asked Mercer, with breathless anxiety, "What that strange and incomprehensible box was?" Mo Mercer was the oracle of the renowned village of Hardscrabble. Mo" knew every thing; he had all the consequence and complacency of a man who had never seen his equal, and never expected to. "Mo" bragged extensively upon his having been to the "Capitol" twice, of his there having been in the most "fashionable society," of having seen the world. His return to town was therefore received with a shout. The arrival of the piano was announced to him, and he alone of all the community was not astonished at the news. His insensibility was considered wonderful. He treated the piano as a thing that he was used to, and went on, among other things to say, that he had seen more pianos in the "Capitol," than he had ever seen woodchucks; and that it was not an animal, but a musical instrument, played upon by the ladies; and he wound up his description by saying that the way "the dear creeters could pull music out of it was a caution to hoarse owls." The new turn given to the piano excitement in Hardscrabble by Mo Mercer, was like pouring oil on fire to extinguish it, for it blazed out with more vigor than ever. That it was a musical instrument made it a rarer thing in that wild country, than if it had been an animal, and people of all sizes, colors, and degrees, were dying to see and hear it. Jim Cash was Mo Mercer's right-hand man; in the language of refined society, he was "Mo's toady," in the language of Hardscrabble, he was "Mo's wheel-horse." Cash believed in Mo Mercer with an abandonment that was perfectly ridiculous. Mr. Cash was dying to see the piano, and the first opportunity he had alone with his Quixotte, he expressed the desire that was consuming his vitals. "We'll go at once and see it," said Mercer. "Strangers!" echoed the freightened Cash. "Humbug! Do you think I have visited the 'Capitol' twice, and don't know how to treat fashionable society? Come along at once, Cash," said Mercer. Off the pair started, Mercer all confidence, and Cash all fears, as to the propriety of the visit. These fears Cash frankly expressed; but Mercer repeated for the thousandth time his experience in the fashionable society of the "Capitol, and pianos," which he said "was synonymous"-and he finally told Cash, to comfort him, that however abashed and ashamed he might be in the presence of the ladies, "that he needn't fear of sticking, for he would pull him through." A few minutes' walk brought the parties on the broad galleries of the house that contained the object of so much curiosity. The doors and windows were closed, and a suspicious look was on every thing. "Do they always keep a house closed up this way that has a piano in it?" asked Cash, mysteriously. Certainly," replied Mercer; "the damp would destroy its tones." Repeated knocks at the doors, and finally at the windows, satisfied both Cash and Mercer that nobody was at home. In the midst of their disappointment, Cash discovered a singular machine at the Mercer turned to the thing as coolly as a north wind to an icicle, and said, "that was it." "That IT!" exclaimed Cash, opening his eyes still wider; and then recovering himself, he asked to see "the tones." Mercer pointed to the cross-bars and rollers. With trembling hands, with a resolution that would enable a man to be scalped without winking, Cash reached out his hand, and seized the handle of the crank (Cash, at heart, was a brave and fearless man); he gave it a turn, the machinery grated harshly, and seemed to clamor for something to be put in its maw. "What delicious sounds!" said Cash. "Beautiful!" observed the complacent Mercer, at the same time seizing Cash's arm, and asking him to desist, for fear of breaking the instrument, or getting it out of tune. The simple caution was sufficient; and Cash, in the joy of the moment, at what he had done and seen, looked as conceited as Mo Mercer himself. Busy, indeed, was Cash, from this time forward, in explaining to gaping crowds the exact appearance of the piano, how he had actually taken hold of it, and, as his friend Mo Mercer observed, "pulled music out of it." The curiosity of the village was thus allayed, and consequently died comparatively away; Cash, however, having risen to almost as much impor tance 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 hospitable villagers, and resolved to give a grand party to return some of the kindness they had received, and the piano was, for the first time, moved into the parlor. No invitation on this occasion was neglected; early at the post was every visitor, for it was rumored that Miss Patience Doolittle would, in the course of the evening, "perform on the piano." The excitement was immense. The supper was passed over with a contempt, rivalling that which is cast upon an excellent farce played preparatory to a dull tragedy, in which the star is to appear. The furniture was all critically examined; but nothing could be discovered answering Cash's description. An enormously thick-leafed table, with a "spread” upon it, attracted little attention, timber being so very cheap in a new country, and so every body expected soon to see the piano "brought in.” Mercer, of course, was the hero of the evening; he talked much and loudly. Cash, as well as several young ladies, went into hysterics at his wit. Mercer, as the evening wore away, grew exceedingly conceited, even for him; and he graciously asserted that the company present reminded him of his two visits to the Capitol," and other associations, equally exclusive and peculiar. The evening wore on apace, and still-no piano. That hope deferred which maketh the heart sick, was felt by some elderly ladies, and by a few younger ones and Mercer was solicited to ask Miss Patience Doolittle, to favor the company with the presence of the piano. "Certainly," said Mercer, and with the grace of a city dandy, he called upon the lady to gratify all present with a little music, prefacing his request with the remark, that if she was fatigued, "his friend Cash would give the machine a turn." Miss Patience smiled, and looked at Cash. All eyes in the room turned upon him. Miss Patience said she was gratified to hear that Mr. Cash was a musician; she admired people who had a musical taste. Whereupon Cash fell into a chair, as he afterwards observed, "chawed-up." Oh, that Beau Brummel, or any of his admirers could have seen Mo Mercer all this while! Calm as a summer morning-complacent as a newly-painted sign-he smiled and patronized, and was the only unexcited person in the room. Miss Patience rose, a sigh escaped from all present, the piano was evidently to be brought in. She approached the thick-leafed table, and removed the covering, throwing it carelessly and gracefully aside; opened the instrument, and presented the beautiful arrangement of dark and white keys. Mo Mercer at this, for the first time in his life, looked confused; he was 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 an object 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 he could express himself, so entranced was he by the music, "Miss Doolittle, what was that instrument Mo Mercer showed me in your gallery once, that went by a crank, and had rollers in it ?" It was now the time for Miss Patience to blush; so away went the blood from 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 thrust into them; the heretofore invulnerable Mercer's knees trembled; the sweat 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 in the village of Hardscrabble; and Mo Mercer-the great-the confident the happy and self-possessed-surprising as it may seem, was the first victim sacrificed to their influence. Time wore on, and pianos became common, and Mo Mercer less popular; and he finally disappeared altogether, on the evening of the day on which a Yankee peddler of notions sold, to the highest bidder, "six patent, warranted, and improved Mo Mercer pianos." CINDERELLA NEGROTYPED. FROM THE "MASTER'S HOUSE." BY T. B. THORPE. On the first sound of the spoons upon the dishes, there came a noise in the hall, as of heavy drops of rain beating upon a roof; then could be heard children's voices, and in another instant, a dozen or more of boys and girls, of all sizes and ages, came rushing into the dining-room, clamoring for something to eat, and evidently urged on by a score of 1854. | little negroes, that, in the rear, ably supported these impetuous applicants. "These children must all be carried off," said Mr. Moreton, holding up his carving-knife and fork, and looking around as if he expected every moment that he himself would be devoured, "Toots ain't doin 'way!" said that little romp, tumbling from some place plump into the middle of the room, 66 me doin to eat dinner, and sassenger, and cake, and pie, and-and-and chickenses," and when she got thus far, Mrs. Moreton put her hands to her ears, and begged Aunt Margaret "to take that child, and all the children, away, until dinner was over." "Take Toots up!" said Aunt Margaret to a matronly-looking negro woman, the seamstress, who had volunteered to wait on the table; "take Toots up," continued Aunt Margaret, "and amuse her as you best can." "I won't go to Phyllis!" said Toots, jumping up and down the room, and falling heels over head against Annie's feet. "Come, little missis!" said Phyllis, catching hold of Toots, "come, and I'll tell you that pretty story." Toots yielded in an instant, and fairly springing into her nurses's arms, she could be heard rattling away, until her voice was lost in the distance, telling Phyllis how much" she liked to hear that pretty 'tory of the horses, and cagiges, and womens, and dogs." Meanwhile the mass of the children, including George, Augustus, Minty, Clotilde, Charley, and "little Moreton," made a compromise with their father, that they were to have a table set in an adjoining room (this was a favorite plan of the servants); in the meanwhile, they were to go out in the yard and play. Phyllis carried Toots into the main road, and sitting down under the shade of a magnificent liveoak, she spread a shawl on the ground, on which she put her little mistress, and told Toots, for the fortieth time, the following story; it being remarkable, that at each relation, Toots made the same comments, asked the same questions, and appeared more than at any previous time breathless with excited interest. "Dar was once, young missis," began Phyllis, "a white gentleman as married another wife, and she was the stuck-upest woman that never was." "What did she do?" asked Toots, out of breath with expectation. Why, whipped all her black people, just for nothin' at all," continued Phillys. "She wouldn't whip you, would she ?" said Toots throwing her arms round Phyllis's neck. "Wal, I 'spect not," said the girl, caressing the child, "but now listen,-you see dis stuck-up white lady had three daughters, the biggest ones she made set in the parlor, under 'skeeter bars, all day, and do nothin' but have the black people wait on 'em, all the time; and de other daughter, who was mighty handsome, was kept up stairs, and wouldn't done let her go riding horseback, nor to New Orleans, nor nowhar. "Now, you see," continued Phyllis, "somebody on de 'jining plantation gave a big ball, and 'vited all de great people, but didn't 'vite little Cind'rella; her stuck-up mother wouldn't let her go along with her bad sisters." "I'd a kicked and hollered, and told father, if they didn't let me go to ball, and have cake, and candies, and ochancies, and apples." "I know you would," said Phyllis, looking admiringly at Toots, "but, you see that this little Cind'rella didn't do it, but just staid at home and cried; when dar was an old woman with a cap on, and a long nose, and a broomstick cum'd into the room, and asked Cind'rella if she wanted to go to the ball, 'cause her sisters had done gone already. Now Cind'rella she couldn't go in course, for you see she had no handsome dress with yaller ribbons, and blue trimmings, and big breastpin, no carrige to ride, nor any black people to drive to the ball; now this old woman was a fairy." "What's a fairy?" said Toots, wonderingly. "A fairy," said Phyllis, looking rather foolish, "is somebody that nobody owns, dat just goes about doin' nothin', and having every thing they wants, dat's a fairy, Miss Toots. And now," she continued, "listen what de fairy done did for Cind'rella; she tuck a punkin, and made a carrige, and six mouses for horses, and a big rat for a coach-driver, and put a new dress on, and new shoes on Cind'rella, and a charm to make her look handsomer than ever, and sent her off to the big ball. "You see," continued Phyllis, "dat de old fairy told Cind'rella dat she must cum home afore daybreak, her pass was up you see by dat time, and if she stopped, de patrolers would cotch her. Now Cind'rella was a dancin' a 'giny reel, with the young master, who owned two hundred black people, and dey had plenty music, six banjos, and three fiddles, but den daybreak cum all ov a sudden, and Cind'rella, 'spectin' her pass wouldn't do no longer, tuck to her heels, and left her shoe in de middle of de floor. "Now de rich young man, dat owned two hundred black people, was in lub wid Cind'rella, and as he couldn't find her plantation; he sent all his black people out to find the young missis that lost her shoe at de time the dancing was gwine on; at last dey found her up in de arbor sound asleep, wid one shoe, and dey know'd it was her, and dey had a big weddin', and every body cum-Mr. Mildmay, and Col. Lee, and-" "Cousin Annie," suggested Toots. "Yes," said Phyllis, "Mistress Annie-and all de black people was dressed up, a waitin' on de tables, and such a time was never know'd afore." "Oh, how I would like to have been there!" said Toots clapping her little hands, "wouldn't I had fun, and thrown turkey bones across the table, and made mother take me in her lap, and sing me to sleep main, or bound off on some expedition that turns out to be more deplorable than explorable. At fifteen he has a tolerable experience of the world; but, from sixteen to twenty, may we clear the track when he's in sight. He knows more than Washington; expresses his opinion with the decision of Ben Franklin; makes up his mind that he was born to rule the world, and new-lay the track of creation; thinks Providence is near-sighted; understands theology and science of the pronoun I; informs his father that Gen. Jackson fought the memorable battle of New Orleans; asks his minister if he don't consider the Bible a little too orthodox. In other words, he knows more then than he will ever know again. A BOY is the spirit of mischief embodied. A per-pany, ensconced on the wood-pile learning legerdefect teetotum, spinning round like a jenny, or tumbling heels over head. He invariably goes through the process of leaning over every chair in his reach; makes drum heads of the doors; turns the tin pans into cymbals; takes the best knives out to dig worms for bait, and loses them; hunts up the molasses cask, and leaves the molasses running; is boon companion to the sugar-barrel; searches up all the pie and preserves left from supper, and eats them; goes to the apples every ten minutes; hides his old cap in order to wear his best one; cuts his boots accidentally if he wants a new pair; tears his clothes for fun; jumps into the puddles for sport, and for ditto tracks your carpets, marks your furniture, pinches the baby, worries the nurse, ties firecrackers to the kitten's tail, drops his school-books in the gutter while he fishes with a pin, pockets his school-master's "specs," and, finally, turns a sober household upside down if he cuts his little finger. He is a provoking and unprovokable torment, especially to his sisters. He don't pretend to much until he is twelve. Then begins the rage for frockcoats, blue eyes, curly hair, white dresses, imperfect rhymes, and dickies. At fourteen he is "too big" to split wood or go after water; and, at the time these interesting offices ought to be performed, contrives to be invisible-whether concealed in the garret, with some old worm-eaten novel for com Just hail one of these young specimens "boy" at sixteen, and how wrathy he gets! If he does not answer you precisely as the little urchin did, who angrily exclaimed, "Don't call me 'boy,' I've smoked these two years," he will give you a withering look that is meant to annihilate you, turn on his heel and, with a curl of the lip, mutter disdainfully, "Who do you call boy?" and oh! the emphasis! But, jesting aside, an honest, blunt, merry, mischievous boy is something to be proud of, whether as brother or son; for, in all his scrapes, his good heart gets the better of him, and leads him soon to repentance, and be sure he will remember his fault -at least five minutes. What, mounted Tom Flynn ?" "No, the 'orse; and then I shook 'ands with 'im, and rode off." "Shook hands with the horse, Billy ?" "What! hold Hamblin by the head?" A REMINISCENCE OF THE OLD PARK THEATRE.-Billy Villiams of the Vells, as he was familiarly termed, was an excellent actor of vulgar cockneys, and popular off as well as on the stage. He could speak the language of his author tolerably well, but his own "No, d― it, with Tom Flynn; and then I rode diction smacked terribly of Bow Bells. Mr. Abbott, off up the Bowery, and who should I meet in front the gentlemanly comedian, used to relate the fol- of the Bowery Theatre but Tom 'Amblin, so I got lowing dialogue between Mr. Burton, and Billy Wil-off, and told the boy to 'old him by the 'ead." liams, with great gusto. Mr. B. was playing a "star" engagement at the Park, and the green room was crowded with the principal members of the company; Mrs. Wheatly, H. Placide, J. Browne, Fisher, Abbott and his wife, and Billy Williams himself. The conversation was general and lively. Burton, who delighted in quizzing Billy, made some inquiries relative to a horse belonging to Mr. Hamblin, which seemed to arouse Billy, and he said: "Now, Burton, I'll tell you all about that 'orse; you see when I first arrived, I said to 'Amblin, Tom, I want an 'orse; I 'ave always been used to 'ave an 'orse, and I would like to 'ave one.' 666 Billy,' says he, you know Mazeppa; he has earned me a great deal of money, and I will not permit him to be misused; but if you want to ride him, you may, and my stage manager, Tom Flynn, will go with you to the stable.' "So down I goes to the stable with Tom Flynn, and told the man to put the saddle on 'im.' "On Tom Flynn ?" says Burton. "No, the 'orse, and then we went and 'ad a drink together." "What! you and the horse?" "No, me and 'Amblin, and after that I mounted 'im again, and went out of town." "What! mounted Hamblin again?" "No, the 'orse; and when I got to Burnham's, who should be there but Tom Flynn-he'd taken another 'orse and rode out a'ead of me, so I told the 'ostler to tie 'im up." 66 Tie Tom Flynn up?" "No, dit, the 'orse, and we had a drink there." What! you and the horse?" "No, me and Tom Flynn." At this period, the whole assembly burst into a loud laugh—a horse laugh, and Billy, finding himself trotted out, finished thus: "Now look here, Burton, -every time I say 'orse you say 'Amblin, and every time I say 'Amblin you say 'orse. Now I'll be 'anged "No, on the 'orse. So, after talking with Tom if I tell you any more about it." Flynn awhile, I mounted 'im." THE GREAT PUDDLEFORD LAWSUIT. was chickens had gone the way of all flesh, and were hour. 66 FROM ONE morning, in the month of September, I was visited by a constable, who very authoritatively served upon me a venire, which commanded me to be and appear before Jonathan Longbow, at his office in the village of Puddleford, at one o'clock, P. M., to serve as a juryman in a case then and there to be tried, between Philista Filkins, plaintiff, and Charity Beadle, defendant, in an action of slander, etc. The constable remarked, after reading this threatening legal epistle to me, that I had better "be up to time, as Squire Longbow was a man who would not be trifled with," and then "Bulliphant!" screamed she, at the top of her leisurely folding it up, and pushing it deep down in lungs, "Bulliphant, you great lout, you! what in his vest-pocket, he mounted his horse, and hurried the name of massysakes are you about? No fire! away in pursuit of the balance of the panel. Of no wood! no water in! How, in all created natur', course, I could not think of being guilty of a con- do you s'pose a woman can get dinner? Furiation tempt of court, after having been so solemnly alive, why don't you speak? Sally Ann! I say, warned of the consequences, and I was therefore Sally Ann! come right here this minute! Go down promptly on the spot according to command. cellar, and get a junk of butter, some milk, and then Squire Longbow held his court at the public--I say, Sally Ann! do you hear me, Sally Ann?house, in a room adjoining the bar-room, because go out to the barn and-run! run! you careless the statute prohibited his holding it in the bar-hussy, to the store! the pot's boiling over!" room itself. He was a law-abiding man, and would And so the old woman's tongue ran on, hour after not violate a statute. I found on my arrival that the whole country, for miles around, had assembled to hear this interesting case. Men, women, and children had turned out, and made a perfect holiday of it. All were attired in their best. The men were dressed in every kind of fashion, or rather, all the fashions of the last twenty years were scattered through the crowd. Small-crown, steeplecrown, low-crown, wide-brim, and narrow-brim hats; wide-tail, stub-tail, and swallow-tail, high-collar, and low-collar coats; bagging and shrunken breeches; every size and shape of shirt-collar were there, all brought in by the settlers when they immigrated. The women had attempted to ape the fashions of the past. Some of them had mounted a "bustle" about the size of a bag of bran, and were waddling along under their load with great satisfaction. Some of the less ambitious were reduced to a mere bunch of calico. One man, I noticed, carried upon his head an old-fashioned, bell-crowned hat, with a half-inch brim, a shirt-collar running up tight under his ears, tight enough to lift him from the ground, (this ran out in front of his face to a peak, serving as a kind of cutwater to his nose,) a faded blue coat of the genuine swallow-tail breed, a pair of narrow-fall breeches that had passed so often | through the wash-tub, and were so shrunken, that they appeared to have been strained on over his limbs; this individual, reader, was walking about, with his hands in his pockets, perfectly satisfied, whistling Yankee Doodle and other patriotic airs. Most of the women had something frizzled around their shoes, which were called pantalettes, giving their extremities the appearance of the legs of so many bantam hens. The men were amusing themselves pitching coppers and quoits, running horses, and betting upon the result of the trial to come off, as every one was expected to form some opinion of the merits of the case. The landlord of the Eagle was of course very busy. He bustled about, here and there, making the necessary preparations. Several pigs and At a little past one, the court was convened. A board placed upon two barrels across the corner of the room, constituted the desk of Squire Longbow, behind which his honor's solitary dignity was caged. Pettifoggers and spectators sat outside. This was very proper, as Squire Longbow was a great man, and some mark of distinction was due. Permit me to describe him. He was a little, pot-bellied person, with a round face, bald head, swelled nose, and had only one eye, the remains of the other being concealed with a green shade. He carried a dignity about him that was really oppressive to bystanders. He was the "end of the law" in Puddleford; and no man could sustain a reputation who presumed to appeal from his decisions. He settled accounts, difficulties of all sorts, and even established land-titles; but of all things, he prided himself upon his knowledge of constitutional questions. The Squire always maintained that hard-drinking was "agin" the Constitution of the United States, "and so," he said, "Judge Story once informed him by letter, when he applied to him for aid in solving this question." "There is no such thing as slander," the Squire used to say, "and he always decided, as every person who lied about another, knew he ought not to be believed, because he was lying, and therefore the quar-animer,' as the books say, is wanting." (This looked rather bad for “Filkins's" case.) Sometimes Squire Longbow rendered judgments, sometimes decrees, and sometimes he divided the cause between both parties. The Squire said he "never could submit to the letter of the law; it was agin' personal liberty; and so Judge Story decided." "Pre-ce-dents, as they were called, he wouldn't mind, not even his own; because then there wouldn't be any room left for a man to change his mind. If," said the Squire, "for instance, I fine Pet. Sykes to-day, for knocking down Job Bluff, that is no reason why I should fine Job Bluff to-morrow, for knocking down Pet. Sykes, because they are entirely different persons. Human natur' ain't the same. Contempt of Court," the Squire |