"_Bob Smith_ says, does he? And who's _Bob Smith_? Much does _Bob Smith_know about Augusty! He's _been thar_, I reckon! Slipped off yerly somemornin', when nobody warn't noticin', and got back afore night! It's_only_ a hundred and fifty mile. Oh, yes, _Bob Smith_ knows _all_ aboutit! _I_ don't know nothin' about it! _I_ ain't never been toAugusty--_I_ couldn't find the road thar, I reckon--ha, ha!_Bob_--_Sm-ith_! If he was only to see one of them fine gentlemen inAugusty, with his fine broadcloth, and bell-crown hat, and shoe-bootsa-shinin' like silver, he'd take to the woods and kill himselfa-runnin'. Bob Smith! That's whar all your devilment comes from, Simon."
"Bob Smith's as good as anybody else, I judge; and a heap smarter thansome. He showed me how to cut Jack," continued Simon, "and that's morenor some people can do, if they _have_ been to Augusty."
"If Bob Smith kin do it," said the old man, "I kin, too. I don't know itby that name; but if it's book knowledge or plain sense, and Bob kin doit, it's reasonable to s'pose that old Jed'diah Suggs won't be bothered_bad_. Is it any ways similyar to the rule of three, Simon?"
"Pretty similyar, daddy, but not adzactly," said Simon, drawing a packfrom his pocket to explain. "Now, daddy," he proceeded, "you see thesehere four cards is what we call the Jacks. Well, now, the idee is, ifyou'll take the pack and mix 'em all up together, I'll take off a passelfrom the top, and the bottom one of them I take off will be one of theJacks."
"Me to mix 'em fust?" said old Jed'diah.
"Yes."
"And you not to see but the back of the top one, when you go to 'cut,'as you call it?"
"Jist so, daddy."
"And the backs all jist' as like as kin be?" said the senior Suggs,examining the cards.
"More alike nor cow-peas," said Simon.
"It can't be done, Simon," observed the old man, with great solemnity.
"Bob Smith kin do it, and so kin I."
"It's agin nater, Simon; thar ain't a man in Augusty, nor on top of theyearth, that kin do it!"
"Daddy," said our hero, "ef you'll bet me--"
"What!" thundered old Mr. Suggs. "_Bet_, did you says?" and he came downwith a _scorer_ across Simon's shoulders. "Me, Jed-diah Suggs, that'sbeen in the Lord's sarvice these twenty years,--_me_ bet, you nasty,sassy, triflin', ugly--"
"I didn't go to say _that_, daddy; that warn't what I meant adzactly. Iwent to say that ef you'd let me off from this her maulin' you owe me,and _give me_ 'Bunch,' if I cut Jack, I'd _give you_ all this heresilver, ef I didn't,--that's all. To be sure, I allers knowed _you_wouldn't _bet_."
Old Mr. Suggs ascertained the exact amount of the silver which his sonhanded him, in an old leathern pouch, for inspection. He also, mentally,compared that sum with an imaginary one, the supposed value of a certainIndian pony, called "Bunch," which he had bought for his "old woman's"Sunday riding, and which had sent the old lady into a fence corner thefirst and only time she ever mounted him. As he weighed the pouch ofsilver in his hand, Mr. Suggs also endeavored to analyze the characterof the transaction proposed by Simon. "It sartinly _can't_ be nothin'but _givin_', no way it kin be twisted," he murmured to himself. "I_know_ he can't do it, so there's no resk. What makes bettin'? The resk.It's a one-sided business, and I'll jist let him give me all his money,and that'll put all his wild sportin' notions out of his head."
"Will you stand it, daddy?" asked Simon, by way of waking the old manup. "You mought as well, for the whippin' won't do you no good; and asfor Bunch, nobody about the plantation won't ride him but me."
"Simon," replied the old man, "I agree to it. Your old daddy is in aclose place about payin' for his land; and this here money--it's jisteleven dollars, lacking of twenty-five cents--will help out mightily.But mind, Simon, ef anything's said about this hereafter, remember, you_give_ me the money."
"Very well, daddy; and ef the thing works up instid o' down, I s'posewe'll say you give _me_ Bunch, eh?"
"You won't never be troubled to tell how you come by Bunch; the thing'sagin nater, and can't be done. What old Jed'diah Suggs knows, he knowsas good as anybody. Give me them fix-ments, Simon."
Our hero handed the cards to his father, who, dropping the plow-linewith which he had intended to tie Simon's hands, turned his back to thatindividual, in order to prevent his witnessing the operation of_mixing_. He then sat down, and very leisurely commenced shuffling thecards, making, however, an exceedingly awkward job of it. Restive_kings_ and _queens_ jumped from his hands, or obstinately refused toslide into the company of the rest of the pack. Occasionally a sprightly_knave_ would insist on _facing_ his neighbor; or, pressing his edgeagainst another's, half double himself up, and then skip away. But ElderJed'diah perseveringly continued his attempts to subdue the refractory,while heavy drops burst from his forehead, and ran down his cheeks. Allof a sudden an idea, quick and penetrating as a rifle-ball, seemed tohave entered the cranium of the old man. He chuckled audibly. The devilhad suggested to Mr. Suggs an _impromptu_ "stock," which would place thechances of Simon, already sufficiently slim in the old man's opinion,without the range of possibility. Mr. Suggs forthwith proceeded to cutall the _picter ones_, so as to be certain to include the _Jacks_, andplace them at the bottom, with the evident intention of keeping Simon'sfingers above these when he should cut. Our hero, who was quietlylooking over his father's shoulders all the time, did not seem alarmedby this disposition of the cards; on the contrary, he smiled, as if hefelt perfectly confident of success, in spite of it.
"Now, daddy," said Simon, when his father had announced himself ready,"narry one of us ain't got to look at the cards, while I'm a-cuttin'; ifwe do, it'll spile the conjuration."
"Very well."
"And another thing: you've got to look me right dead in the eye, daddy;will you?"
"To be sure,--to be sure," said Mr. Suggs; "fire away."
Simon walked up close to his father, and placed his hand on the pack.Old Mr. Suggs looked in Simon's eye, and Simon returned the look forabout three seconds, during which a close observer might have detected asuspicious working of the wrist of the hand on the cards, but the elderSuggs did not remark it.
"Wake snakes! day's a-breakin'! Rise, Jack!" said Simon, cutting half adozen cards from the top of the pack, and presenting the face of thebottom one for the inspection of his father.
It was the Jack of hearts!
Old Mr. Suggs staggered back several steps, with uplifted eyes andhands!
"Marciful master!" he exclaimed, "ef the boy hain't! Well, how in theround creation of the--! Ben, did you ever? To be sure and sartain,Satan has power on this yearth!" and Mr. Suggs groaned in verybitterness.
"You never seed nothin' like that in _Augusty_, did ye, daddy?" askedSimon, with a malicious wink at Ben.
"Simon, how _did_ you do it?" queried the old man, without noticing hisson's question.
"Do it, daddy? Do it? 'Tain't nothin'. I done it jist as easyas--shootin'."
Whether this explanation was entirely, or in any degree, satisfactory tothe perplexed mind of Elder Jed'diah Suggs can not, after the lapse ofthe time which has intervened, be sufficiently ascertained. It iscertain, however, that he pressed the investigation no farther, butmerely requested his son Benjamin to witness the fact that, inconsideration of his love and affection for his son Simon, and in orderto furnish the donee with the means of leaving that portion of the Stateof Georgia, he bestowed upon him the impracticable pony, Bunch.
"Jist so, daddy; jist so; I'll witness that. But it 'minds me mightilyof the way mammy _give_ old Trailler the side of bacon last week. Shea-sweepin' up the h'a'th; the meat on the table; old Trailler jumps up,gethers the bacon, and darts! Mammy arter him with the broom-stick asfur as the door, but seein' the dog has got the start, she shakes thestick at him, and hollers, 'You sassy, aigsukkin', roguish, gnatty,flop-eared varmint! take it along! take it along! I only wish 'twas fullof a'snic, and ox-vomit, and blue vitrul, so as 'twould cut your interlsinto chitlins!' That's about the way you give Bunch to Simon."
"Oh, shuh, Ben," remarked Simon
, "I wouldn't run on that way. Daddycouldn't help it; it was _predestinated_: 'Whom he hath, he will,' youknow," and the rascal pulled down the under lid of his left eye at hisbrother. Then addressing his father, he asked, "War'n't it, daddy?"
"To be sure--to be sure--all fixed aforehand," was old Mr. Suggs' reply.
"Didn't I tell you so, Ben?" said Simon. "_I_ knowed it was all fixedaforehand," and he laughed until he was purple in the face.
"What's in ye? What are ye laughin' about?" asked the old man wrothily.
"Oh, it's so funny that it could all 'a' been _fixed aforehand_!" saidSimon, and laughed louder than before. The obtusity of the Reverend Mr.Suggs, however, prevented his making any discoveries. He fell into abrown study, and no further allusion was made to the matter.
It was evident to our hero that his father intended he should remain butone more night beneath the paternal roof. What mattered it to Simon?
He went home at night; curried and fed Bunch; whispered confidentiallyin his ear that he was the "fastest piece of hossflesh, accordin' tosize, that ever shaded the yearth;" and then busied himself in preparingfor an early start on the morrow.
Old Mr. Suggs' big red rooster had hardly ceased crowing in announcementof the coming dawn, when Simon mounted the intractable Bunch. Both werein high spirits: our hero at the idea of unrestrained license in future;and Bunch from a mesmerical transmission to himself of a portion of hismaster's deviltry. Simon raised himself in the stirrups, yelled atolerably fair imitation of the Creek war-whoop, and shouted:
"I'm off, old stud! Remember the Jack-a-hearts!"
Bunch shook his little head, tucked down his tail, ran sideways, as ifgoing to fall, and then suddenly reared, squealed, and struck off at abrisk gallop.
A PIANO IN ARKANSAS
BY THOMAS BANGS THORPE
We shall never forget the excitement which seized upon the inhabitantsof the little village of Hardscrabble as the report spread through thecommunity that a real piano had actually arrived within its precincts.
Speculation was afloat as to its appearance and its use. The name wasfamiliar to everybody; but what it precisely meant, no one could tell.That it had legs was certain; for a stray volume of some literarytraveler was one of the most conspicuous works in the floating libraryof Hardscrabble, and said traveler stated that he had seen a pianosomewhere in New England with pantalets on; also, an old foreign paperwas brought forward, in which there was an advertisement headed"Soiree," which informed the "citizens, generally," that Mr. Bobolinkwould preside at the piano.
This was presumed by several wiseacres, who had been to a menagerie, tomean that Mr. Bobolink stirred the piano with a long pole, in the sameway that the showman did the lions and rhi-no-ce-rus.
So, public opinion was in favor of its being an animal, though aharmless one; for there had been a land-speculator through the village afew weeks previously, who distributed circulars of a "Female Academy"for the accomplishment of young ladies. These circulars distinctlystated "the use of the piano to be one dollar per month."
One knowing old chap said, if they would tell him what so-i-ree meant,he would tell them what a piano was, and no mistake.
The owner of this strange instrument was no less than a very quiet andvery respectable late merchant of a little town somewhere "north," who,having failed at home, had emigrated into the new and hospitable countryof Arkansas, for the purpose of bettering his fortune and escaping theheartless sympathy of his more lucky neighbors, who seemed to considerhim a very bad and degraded man because he had become honestly poor.
The new-comers were strangers, of course. The house in which they weresetting up their furniture was too little arranged "to admit of calls;"and, as the family seemed very little disposed to court society, allprospects of immediately solving the mystery that hung about the pianoseemed hopeless. In the meantime, public opinion was "rife."
The depository of this strange thing was looked upon by the passers-bywith indefinable awe; and, as noises unfamiliar sometimes reached thestreet, it was presumed that the piano made them, and the excitementrose higher than ever. In the midst of it, one or two old ladies,presuming upon their age and respectability, called upon the strangersand inquired after their health, and offered their services andfriendship; meantime, everything in the house was eyed with greatintensity, but, seeing nothing strange, a hint was given about thepiano. One of the new family observed, carelessly, "that it had beenmuch injured by bringing out, that the damp had affected its tones, andthat one of its legs was so injured that it would not stand up, and forthe present it would not ornament the parlor."
Here was an explanation indeed: injured in bringing out; damp affectingits tones; leg broken. "Poor thing!" ejaculated the old ladies, withreal sympathy, as they proceeded homeward; "traveling has evidentlyfatigued it; the Mass-is-sip fogs has given it a cold, poor thing!" andthey wished to see it with increased curiosity.
The "village" agreed that if Moses Mercer, familiarly called "MoMercer," was in town, they would have a description of the piano, andthe uses to which it was put; and, fortunately, in the midst of theexcitement "Mo" arrived, he having been temporarily absent on ahunting-expedition.
Moses Mercer was the only son of "old Mercer," who was, and had been, inthe State Senate ever since Arkansas was admitted into the "Union." Mofrom this fact received great glory, of course; his father's greatnessalone would have stamped him with superiority; but his having been twicein the "Capitol" when the legislature was in session stamped his claimsto pre-eminence over all competitors.
Mo Mercer was the oracle of the renowned village of Hardscrabble.
"Mo" knew everything; he had all the consequence and complacency of aman who had never seen his equal, and never expected to. "Mo" braggedextensively upon his having been to the "Capitol" twice,--of his therehaving been in the most "fashionable society,"--of having seen theworld. His return to town was therefore received with a shout. Thearrival of the piano was announced to him, and he alone of all thecommunity was not astonished at the news.
His insensibility was considered wonderful. He treated the piano as athing that he was used to, and went on, among other things, to say thathe had seen more pianos in the "Capitol," than he had ever seenwoodchucks, and that it was not an animal, but a musical instrumentplayed upon by the ladies; and he wound up his description by sayingthat the way "the dear creatures could pull music out of it was acaution to hoarse owls."
The new turn given to the piano-excitement in Hardscrabble by Mo Mercerwas like pouring oil on fire to extinguish it, for it blazed out withmore vigor than ever. That it was a musical instrument made it a rarerthing in that wild country than if it had been an animal, and people ofall sizes, colors, and degrees were dying to see and hear it.
Jim Cash was Mo Mercer's right-hand man: in the language of refinedsociety, he was "Mo's toady;" in the language of Hardscrabble, he was"Mo's wheel-horse." Cash believed in Mo Mercer with an abandonment thatwas perfectly ridiculous. Mr. Cash was dying to see the piano, and thefirst opportunity he had alone with his Quixote he expressed the desirethat was consuming his vitals.
"We'll go at once and see it," said Mercer.
"Strangers!" echoed the frightened Cash.
"Humbug! Do you think I have visited the 'Capitol' twice, and don't knowhow to treat fashionable society? Come along at once, Cash," saidMercer.
Off the pair started, Mercer all confidence, and Cash all fears as tothe propriety of the visit. These fears Cash frankly expressed; butMercer repeated for the thousandth time his experience in thefashionable society of the "Capitol, and pianos," which he said "wassynonymous;" and he finally told Cash, to comfort him, that, howeverabashed and ashamed he might be in the presence of the ladies, "heneedn't fear of sticking, for he would pull him through."
A few minutes' walk brought the parties on the broad galleries of thehouse that contained the object of so much curiosity. The doors andwindows were closed, and a suspicious look was on everything.
"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 bothCash and Mercer that nobody was at home. In the midst of theirdisappointment, Cash discovered a singular machine at the end of thegallery, crossed by bars and rollers and surmounted with an enormouscrank. Cash approached it on tiptoe; he had a presentiment that hebeheld the object of his curiosity, and, as its intricate characterunfolded itself, he gazed with distended eyes, and asked Mercer, withbreathless anxiety, what that strange and incomprehensible box was.
Mercer turned to the thing as coolly as a north wind to an icicle, andsaid, that was _it_.
"That _it_!" exclaimed Cash, opening his eyes still wider; and then,recovering himself, he asked to see "the tone."
Mercer pointed to the cross-bars and rollers. With trembling hands, witha resolution that would enable a man to be scalped without winking,Cash reached out his hand and seized the handle of the crank (Cash, atheart, was a brave and fearless man). He gave it a turn: the machinerygrated 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 seizingCash's arm and asking him to desist, for fear of breaking the instrumentor getting it out of tune.
The simple caution was sufficient; and Cash, in the joy of the moment atwhat he had done and seen, looked as conceited as Mo Mercer himself.
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) Page 8
