°154 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTE%. 
executed, Moses in Hardscrabble was. The dulcet 
sounds 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 invul- 
nerable 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 wood- 
chucks. , 
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 alto- 
gether, on the evening of the day on which a Yankee 
peddler of notions sold, to the highest bidder, “ six pa- 
tent, warranted, and improved Mo Mercer pianos.” 
