"Well, that made him laugh; he seemed to forget about the nutmegs, and says he, 'That's a bright scheme, but it won't do; we shall want the Province some day, and I guess we'll buy it of King William; they say he is over head and ears in debt, and owes nine hundred millions of pounds starling—we'll buy it, as we did Florida. In the meantime we must have a canal from Bay Fundy to Bay Varte, right through Cumberland neck, by Shittyack, for our fishing vessels to go to Labradore.' 'I guess you must ax leave first,' said I. 'That's jist what I was ciphering at,' says he, 'when you came in. I believe we won't ax them at all, but jist fall to and do it; IT'S A ROAD OF NEEDCESSITY. I once heard Chief Justice Marshall of Baltimore say; "If the people's highway is dangerous, a man may take down a fence and pass through the fields as a way of NEEDCESSITY;" and we shall do it on that principle, as the way round by Isle Sable is dangerous. I wonder the Nova Scotians don't do it for their own convenience.' Said I, 'it wouldn't make a bad speculation that.' 'The critters don't know no better,' said he. 'Well,' says I, 'the St. John's folks, why don't they? for they are pretty cute chaps them.'
"'They remind me,' says the Professor, 'of Jim Billings. You knew Jim Billings, didn't you, Mr. Slick?' 'Oh yes,' said I, 'I knew him. It was he that made such a talk by shipping blankets to the West Indies.' 'The same,' says he. 'Well, I went to see him the other day at Mrs. Lecain's boarding-house, and says I, "Billings, you have a nice location here." "A plaguy sight too nice," said he. "Marm Lecain makes such an etarnal touss about her carpets, that I have to go along that everlasting long entry, and down both staircases, to the street door to spit; and it keeps all the gentlemen a-running with their mouths full all day. I had a real bout with a New Yorker this morning. I run down to the street door, and afore I seed anybody a-coming, I let go, and I vow if I didn't let a chap have it all over his white waistcoat. Well, he makes a grab at me, and I shuts the door right to on his wrist, and hooks the door chain taught and leaves him there, and into Marm Lecain's bedroom like a shot, and hides behind the curtain. Well, he roared like a bull, till black Lucretia, one of the house-helps, let him go, and they looked into all the gentlemen's rooms and found nobody; so I got out of that 'ere scrape. So, what with Marm Lecain's carpets in the house, and other folks' waistcoats in the street, it's too nice a location for me, I guess, so I shall up killock and off tomorrow to the TREE-mont."
"'Now,' says the Professor, 'the St. John's folks are jist like Billings, fifty cents would have bought him a spit box, and saved him all them 'ere journeys to the street door—and a canal at Bay Varte would save the St. John's folks a voyage all round Nova Scotia. Why, they can't get at their own backside settlements, without a voyage most as long as one to Europe. If we had that 'ere neck of land in Cumberland, we'd have a ship canal there, and a town at each end of it as big as Portland. You may talk of Solomon,' said the Professor, 'but if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like a lily of the field, neither was he in all his wisdom, equal in knowledge to a real free American citizen.' 'Well,' said I, 'Professor, we are a most enlightened people, that's sartain, but somehow I don't like to hear you run down King Solomon neither; perhaps he warn't quite so wise as Uncle Sam, but then,' said I (drawing close to the Professor, and whispering in his ear, for fear any folks in the bar room might hear me), 'but then, said I, may be he was every bit and grain as honest.' Says he, 'Mr. Slick, there are some folks who think a good deal and say but little, and they are wise folks; and there are others agin, who blart right out whatever comes uppermost, and I guess they are pretty considerable superfine darned fools.'
"And with that he turned right round, and sat down to his map and never said another word, lookin' as mad as a hatter the whole blessed time."
No. IX
Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding.
"Did you ever hear tell of Abernethy, a British doctor?" said theClockmaker.
"Frequently," said I; "he was an eminent man, and had a most extensive practice."
"Well, I reckon he was a vulgar critter that," he replied, "he treated the hon'ble Alden Gobble, secretary to our legation at London, dreadful bad once; and I guess if it had been me he had used that way, I'd a fixed his flint for him, so that he'd think twice afore he'd fire such another shot as that 'ere agin. I'd a made him make tracks, I guess, as quick as a dog does a hog from a potato field. He'd a found his way out of the hole in the fence a plaguy sight quicker than he came in, I reckon."
"His manner," said I, "was certainly rather unceremonious at times, but he was so honest and so straightforward, that no person was, I believe, ever seriously offended at him. IT WAS HIS WAY."
"Then his way was so plaguy rough," continued the Clockmaker, "that he'd been the better, if it had been hammered and mauled down smoother. I'd a levelled him as flat as a flounder."
"Pray what was his offence?" said I.
"Bad enough you may depend. The hon'ble Alden Gobble was dyspeptic, and he suffered great on easiness arter eatin', so he gees to Abemethy for advice. 'What's the matter with you?' said the Doctor—jist that way, without even passing the time o' day with him—'what's the matter with you?' said he. 'Why,' says Alden, 'I presume I have the Dyspepsy.' 'Ah!' said he, 'I see; a Yankee swallowed more dollars and cents than he can digest.' 'I am an American citizen,' says Alden, with great dignity; 'I am Secretary to our Legation at the Court of St. James.' 'The devil you are,' said Abernethy; "then you'll soon get rid of your dyspepsy.' 'I don't see that 'ere inference,' said Alden, 'it don't follow from what you predicate at all; it ain't a natural consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be ill because he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened people to fill an important office.' (The truth is, you could no more trap Alden than you could an Indian. He could see other folks' trail, and made none himself; he was a real diplomatist, and I believe our diplomatists are allowed to be the best in the world.) 'But I tell you it does follow,' said the Doctor; 'for in the company you'll have to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian.'
"It was an everlasting pity Alden contradicted him, for he broke out like one ravin' distracted mad. 'I'll be damned,' said he, 'if ever I saw a Yankee that didn't bolt his food whole like a boa constrictor. How the devil can you expect to digest food, that you neither take the trouble to dissect, nor time to masticate? It's no wonder you lose your teeth, for you never use them; nor your digestion, for you overload it; nor your saliva, for you expend it on the carpets, instead of your food. It's disgusting, it's beastly. You Yankees load your stomachs as a Devonshire man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and as fast as he can pitch it with a dung-fork, and drive off; and then you complain that such a load of compost is too heavy for you. Dyspepsy, eh! infernal guzzling, you mean. I'll tell you what, Mr. Secretary of Legation, take half the time to eat that you do to drawl out your words, chew your food half as much as you do your filthy tobacco, and you'll be well in a month.'
"'I don't understand such language,' said Alden. (For he was fairly riled, and got his dander up, and when he shows clear grit, he looks wicked ugly, I tell you.) 'I don't understand such language, sir; I came here to consult you professionally, and not to be—' 'Don't understand!' said the Doctor, 'why it's plain English; but here, read my book!' and he shoved a book into his hands and left him in an instant, standing alone in the middle of the room.
"If the hon'ble Alden Gobble had gone right away and demanded his passport, and returned home with the Legation, in one of our first class frigates (I guess the English would as soon see p'ison as one o' them 'ere Serpents), to Washington, the President and the people would have sustained him in it, I guess, until an apology was offered for the insult to the nation. I guess if it had been me," said Mr. Slick, "I'd a headed him afore he slipped out o' the door, and pinned him up agin the wall, and made him bolt his words again, as quick as he throw'd 'em up, for I never seed an Englishman that didn't cut his words as short as he does his horse's tail, close up to the stump."
"It certainly was very coarse and vulgar language, and I think," said I, "that your Secretary had just cause to be offended at such an ungentlemanlike attack, although he showed his good sense in treating it with the contempt it deserved."
"It was plaguy lucky for the doctor, I tell you, that he cut his stick as he did, and made himself scarce, for Alden was an ugly customer; he'd a gi'n him a proper scalding; he'd a taken the bristles off his hide, as clean as the skin of a spring shote of a pig killed at Christmas."
The Clockmaker was evidently excited by his own story, and to indemnify himself for these remarks on his countrymen, he indulged for some time in ridiculing the Nova Scotians.
"Do you see that 'ere flock of colts," said he, as we passed one of those beautiful prairies that render the valleys of Nova Scotia so verdant and so fertile. "Well, I guess they keep too much of that 'ere stock. I heerd an Indian one day ax a tavern-keeper for some rum. 'Why, Joe Spawdeeck,' said he, 'I reckon you have got too much already.' 'Too much of anything,' said Joe, 'is not good; but too much rum is jist enough.' I guess these Bluenoses think so about their horses; they are fairly eat up by them, out of house and home, and they are no good neither. They bean't good saddle horses, and they bean't good draft beasts; they are jist neither one thing nor t'other. They are like the drink of our Connecticut folks. At mowing time they use molasses and water—nasty stuff, only fit to catch flies; it spiles good water and makes bad beer. No wonder the folks are poor. Look at them 'ere great dykes; well, they all go to feed horses; and look at their grain fields on the upland; well, they are all sowed with oats to feed horses, and they buy their bread from us: so we feed the asses, and they feed the horses. If I had them critters on that 'ere marsh, on a location of mine, I'd jist take my rifle and shoot every one on 'em—the nasty yo-necked, cat-hammed, heavy-headed, flat-eared, crooked-shanked, long-legged, narrow-chested, good-for-nothin' brutes; they ain't worth their keep one winter. I vow, I wish one of these Bluenoses, with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, coat-tails pinned up behind like a leather blind of a Shay, an old spur on one heel, and a pipe stuck through his hat-band, mounted on one of these limber-timbered critters, that moves its hind legs like a hen scratchin' gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in New York, for a sight. Lord! I think I hear the West Point cadets a-larfin' at him. 'Who brought that 'ere scare-crow out of standin' corn and stuck him here?' 'I guess that 'ere citizen came from away down east out of the Notch of the White Mountains.' 'Here comes the Cholera doctor, from Canada—not from Canada, I guess, neither, for he don't look as if he had ever been among the rapids.' If they wouldn't poke fun at him it's a pity.
"If they'd keep less horses, and more sheep, they'd have food and clothing, too, instead of buyin' both. I vow I've larfed afore now till I have fairly wet myself a-cryin', to see one of these folks catch a horse: may be he has to go two or three miles of an arrand. Well, down he goes on the dyke with a bridle in one hand, and an old tin pan in another, full of oats, to catch his beast. First he goes to one flock of horses, and then to another, to see if he can find his own critter. At last he gets sight on him, and goes softly up to him, shakin' of his oats, and a-coaxin' him, and jist as he goes to put his hand upon him, away he starts all head and tail, and the rest with him: that starts another flock, and they set a third off, and at last every troop on 'em goes, as if Old Nick was arter them, till they amount to two or three hundred in a drove. Well, he chases them clear across the Tantramer marsh, seven miles good, over ditches, creeks, mire holes, and flag ponds, and then they turn and take a fair chase for it back again, seven miles more. By this time, I presume, they are all pretty considerably well tired, and Bluenose, he goes and gets up all the men folks in the neighbourhood, and catches his beast, as they do a moose arter he is fairly run down; so he runs fourteen miles, to ride two, because he is in a tarnation hurry. It's e'enamost equal to eatin' soup with a fork, when you are short of time. It puts me in mind of catching birds by sprinklin' salt on their tails; it's only one horse a man can ride out of half a dozen, arter all. One has no shoes, t'other has a colt, one ain't broke, another has a sore back, while a fifth is so etarnal cunnin', all Cumberland couldn't catch him, till winter drives him up to the barn for food.
"Most of them 'ere dyke marshes have what they call 'honey pots' in 'em; that is a deep hole all full of squash, where you can't find no bottom. Well, every now and then, when a feller goes to look for his horse, he sees his tail a-stickin' right out an eend, from one of these honey pots, and wavin' like a head of broom corn; and sometimes you see two or three trapped there, e'enamost smothered, everlastin' tired, half swimmin' half wadin', like rats in a molasses cask. When they find 'em in that 'ere pickle, they go and get ropes, and tie 'em tight round their necks, and half hang 'em to make 'em float, and then haul 'em out. Awful lookin' critters they be, you may depend, when they do come out; for all the world like half-drowned kittens—all slinkey slimey, with their great long tails glued up like a swab of oakum dipped in tar. If they don't look foolish it's a pity! Well, they have to nurse these critters all winter, with hot mashes, warm covering, and what not, and when spring comes, they mostly die, and if they don't they are never no good arter. I wish with all my heart half the horses in the country were barrelled up in these here 'honey pots,' and then there'd be near about one half too many left for profit. Jist look at one of these barn yards in the spring—half a dozen half-starved colts, with their hair lookin' a thousand ways for Sunday, and their coats hangin' in tatters, and half a dozen good-for-nothin' old horses, a-crowdin' out the cows and sheep.
"Can you wonder that people who keep such an unprofitable stock, come out of the small eend of the horn in the long run?"
No. X
The Road to a Woman's Heart—The Broken Heart.
As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy.
"It's pretty well on in the evening, I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is as onsartain in her temper as a mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck and hiss, like a goose with a flock of goslins. I wonder what on airth Pugwash was a-thinkin' on, when he signed articles of partnership with that 'ere woman; she's not a bad-lookin' piece of furniture neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should carry such a stiff upper lip—she reminds me of our old minister Joshua Hopewell's apple trees.
"The old minister had an orchard of most particular good fruit, for he was a great hand at buddin', graftin', and what not, and the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such bearers, the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'n always hung there like bait to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at 'em. So I said to him one day, 'Minister,' said I, 'how on airth do you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else can do it no how?' 'Why,' says he, 'they are dreadful pretty fruit, ain't they?' 'I guess,' said I, 'there ain't the like on 'em in all Connecticut.' 'Well,' says he, 'I'll tell you the secret, but you needn't let on to no one about it. That 'ere row next the fence, I grafted it myself, I took great pains to get the right kind, I sent clean up to Roxberry, and away down to Squaw-neck Creek for —-.' 'I know that, Minister,' said I (for I was afeared he was a-goin' to give me day and date for every graft, being a terrible long-winded man in his stories), 'I know that,' said I, 'but how do you preserve them?' 'Why, I was a-goin' to tell you,' said he, 'when you stopped me. That 'ere outward row I grafted myself with the choicest kind I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so etarnal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and they sarch no farther. They snicker at my graftin', and I laugh in my sleeve, I guess, at their penetration.'
"Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's apples—very temptin' fruit to look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he married, I guess it's pretty puckery by this time. However, if she goes to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of 'soft sawder,' that will take the frown out of her frontispiece, and make her dial-plate as smooth as a lick of copal varnish. It's a pity she's such a kickin' devil, too, for she has good points: good eye—good foot—neat pastern—fine chest—a clean set of limbs, and carries a good —-. But here we are; now you'll see what 'soft sawder' will do."
When we entered the house, the traveller's room was all in darkness, and on opening the opposite door into the sitting-room, we found the female part of the family extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flickering light of the fire, as it fell upon her tall fine figure and beautiful face, revealed a creature worthy of the Clockmaker's comments.
"Good evening, Marm," said Mr. Slick, "how do you do, and how's Mr.Pugwash?"
"He," said she, "why he's been abed this hour, you don't expect to disturb him this time of night I hope?"
"Oh no," said Mr. Stick, "certainly not, and I am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that—"
"So am I," said she, "but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an inn when he has no occasion to, his family can't expect no rest."
Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, and staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed, "Well if that ain't a beautiful child! Come here, my little man and shake hands along with me; well, I declare if that 'ere little feller ain't the finest child I ever seed! What, not abed yet? Ah, you rogue, where did you get them 'ere pretty rosy cheeks; stole 'em from mamma, eh? Well, I wish my old mother could see that child, it is such a treat. In our country," said he, turning to me, "the children are all as pale as chalk, or as yeller as an orange. Lord, that 'ere little feller would be a show in our country—come to me my man." Here the "soft sawder" began to operate. Mrs. Pugwash said in a milder tone than we had yet heard, "Go, my dear to the gentleman; go, dear." Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls there would fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in a month of Sundays. "Black eyes—let me see—ah mamma's eyes too, and black hair also; as I am alive, why you are mamma's own boy—the very image of mamma."
"Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. "Sally make a fire in the next room."
"She ought to be proud of you," he continued. "Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the face. Did you ever see," said he, again addressing me, "such a likeness between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and his mother?"
"I am sure you have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to me; "you must be hungry and weary, too—I will get you a cup of tea."
"I am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I.
"Not the least trouble in the world," she replied, "on the contrary a pleasure."
We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, and lingered behind me to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mamma.
As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't go well in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to get them to start, arter that there is no trouble with them if you don't check 'em too short. If you do, they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the natur' of the critter; she'll never go kind in harness for him. When I see a child," said the Clockmaker, "I always feel safe with these women folk; for I have always found that the road to a woman's heart lies through her child."
"You seem," said I, "to understand the female heart so well, I make no doubt you are a general favourite among the fair sex."
"Any man," he replied, "that understands horses, has a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women too, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same treatment. Encourage the timid ones, be gentle and steady with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes.
"People talk an everlastin' sight of nonsense about wine, women and horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I tell you, there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either on 'em. You hear folks say, oh, such a man is an ugly-grained critter—he'll break his wife's heart; jist as if a woman's heart was as brittle as a pipe stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist like a new India rubber shoe; you may pull and pull at it, till it stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; there's a plaguy sight of wear in 'em.
"I never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other sex, one Washington Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit down on the heads of your grenadiers, and near about high enough to wade across Charlestown River, and as strong as a towboat. I guess he was somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law and catechism too. He was a perfect pictur' of a man; you couldn't falt him in no particular; he was so just a made critter; folks used to run to the winder when he passed, and say 'There goes Washington Banks, bean't he lovely?' I do believe there wasn't a gal in the Lowell factories, that warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath day, when they all came out together (an amazin' hansom sight too, near about a whole congregation of young gals), Banks used to say, 'I vow, young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all; it's a whapper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your service.' Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks, half a thousand little clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time, and their dear little eyes sparklin', like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night.
"Well, when I last seed him, he was all skin and bone, like a horse turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin' skeleton. 'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin' so peecked; why you look like a sick turkey hen, all legs; what on airth ails you?' 'I'm dyin',' says he, 'of a broken heart.' 'What,' says I, 'have the gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he, 'I bean't such a fool as that neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun, is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of summer with Leftenant Oby Knowles, that I could shoulder the best bower of the Constitution frigate. I won my bet, but the Anchor was so eternal heavy it broke my heart.' Sure enough he did die that very fall, and he was the only instance I ever heerd tell of a broken heart."
No. XI
Cumberland Oysters Produce Melancholy Forebodings.
The "soft sawder" of the Clockmaker had operated effectually on the beauty of Amherst, our lovely hostess of Pugwash's inn: indeed, I am inclined to think, with Mr. Slick, that "the road to a woman's heart lies through her child," from the effect produced upon her by the praises bestowed on her infant boy.
I was musing on this feminine susceptibility to flattery, when the door opened, and Mrs. Pugwash entered, dressed in her sweetest smiles and her best cap, an auxiliary by no means required by her charms, which, like an Italian sky, when unclouded, are unrivalled in splendour. Approaching me, she said, with an irresistible smile, "Would you like Mr. —-" (Here there was a pause, a hiatus, evidently intended for me to fill up with my name; but that no person knows, nor do I intend they shall; at Medley's Hotel, in Halifax, I was known as the stranger in No. 1. The attention that incognito procured for me, the importance it gave me in the eyes of the master of the house, its lodgers and servants, is indescribable. It is only great people who travel incog. State travelling is inconvenient and slow; the constant weight of form and etiquette oppresses at once the strength and the spirits. It is pleasant to travel unobserved, to stand at ease, or exchange the full suit for the undress coat and fatigue jacket. Wherever too there is mystery there is importance; there is no knowing for whom I may be mistaken; but let me once give my humble cognomen and occupation, and I sink immediately to my own level, to a plebeian station and a vulgar name; not even my beautiful hostess, nor my inquisitive friend, the Clockmaker, who calls me "Squire," shall extract that secret!) "Would you like, Mr. —-"
"Indeed, I would," said I, "Mrs. Pugwash; pray be seated, and tell me what it is."
"Would you like a dish of superior Shittyacks for supper?"
"Indeed I would," said I, again laughing; "but pray tell me what it is?"
"Laws me!" said she with a stare, "where have you been all your days, that you never heerd of our Shittyack oysters? I thought everybody had heerd of them."
"I beg pardon," said I, "but I understood at Halifax, that the only oysters in this part of the world were found on the shores of Prince Edward Island."
"Oh! dear no," said our hostess, "they are found all along the coast from Shittyack, through Bay of Vartes, away up to Ramshag. The latter we seldom get, though the best; there is no regular conveyance, and when they do come, they are generally shelled and in kegs, and never in good order. I have not had a real good Ramshag in my house these two years, since Governor Maitland was here; he was amazin' fond of them, and lawyer Talkemdeaf sent his carriage there on purpose to procure them fresh for him. Now we can't get them, but we have the Shittyacks in perfection; say the word, and they shall be served up immediately."
A good dish and an unexpected dish is most acceptable, and certainly my American friend and myself did ample justice to the oysters, which, if they have not so classical a name, have quite as good a flavour as their far famed brethren of Milton. Mr. Slick ate so heartily, that when he resumed his conversation, he indulged in the most melancholy forebodings.
"Did you see that 'ere nigger," said he, "that removed the oyster shells? well, he's one of our Chesapickers, one of General Cuffy's slaves. I wish Admiral Cockburn had a taken them all off our hands at the same time. We made a pretty good sale of them 'ere black cattle, I guess, to the British; I wish we were well rid of 'em all. The blacks and the whites in the States show their teeth and snarl, they are jist ready to fall to. The Protestants and Catholics begin to lay back their ears, and turn tail for kickin'. The Abolitionists and Planters are at it like two bulls in a pastur'. Mob-law and Lynch-law are working like yeast in a barrel, and frothing at the bung hole. Nullification and Tariff are like a charcoal pit, all covered up, but burning inside, and sending out smoke at every crack, enough to stifle a horse. General Government and State Government every now and then square off and sparr, and the first blow given will bring a genuine set-to. Surplus Revenue is another bone of contention; like a shin of beef thrown among a pack of dogs, it will set the whole on 'em by the ears.
"You have heerd tell of cotton rags dipped in turpentine, havn't you, how they produce combustion? Well, I guess we have the elements of spontaneous combustion among us in abundance; when it does break out, if you don't see an eruption of human gore, worse than Etna lava, then I'm mistaken. There'll be the very devil to pay, that's a fact. I expect the blacks will butcher the Southern whites, and the Northerners will have to turn out and butcher them again; and all this shoot, hang, cut, stab, and burn business will sweeten our folks' temper, as raw meat does that of a dog—it fairly makes me sick to think on it. The explosion may clear the air again, and all be tranquil once more, but it's an even chance if it don't leave us the three steamboat options: to be blown sky high, to be scalded to death, or drowned."
"If this sad picture you have drawn be indeed true to nature, how does your country," said I, "appear so attractive, as to draw to it so large a portion of our population?"
"It ain't its attraction," said the Clockmaker; "it's nothin' but its power of suction; it is a great whirlpool—a great vortex—it drags all the straw and chips, and floatin' sticks, drift-wood and trash into it. The small crafts are sucked in, and whirl round and round like a squirrel in a cage—they'll never come out. Bigger ones pass through at certain times of tide, and can come in and out with good pilotage, as they do at Hell Gate up the Sound."
"You astonish me," said I, "beyond measure; both your previous conversations with me, and the concurrent testimony of all my friends who have visited the States, give a different view of it."
"YOUR FRIENDS!" said the Clockmaker, with such a tone of ineffable contempt, that I felt a strong inclination to knock him down for his insolence, "your friends! Ensigns and leftenants, I guess, from the British marchin' regiments in the Colonies, that run over five thousand miles of country in five weeks, on leave of absence, and then return, lookin' as wise as the monkey that had seen the world. When they get back they are so chock full of knowledge of the Yankees, that it runs over of itself, like a Hogshead of molasses rolled about in hot weather—a white froth and scum bubbles out of the bung; wishy-washy trash they call tours, sketches, travels, letters, and what not; vapid stuff, jist sweet enough to catch flies, cockroaches, and half-fledged gals. It puts me in mind of my French. I larnt French at night school one winter, of our minister, Joshua Hopewell (he was the most larned man of the age, for he taught himself e'enamost every language in Europe); well, next spring, when I went to Boston, I met a Frenchman, and I began to jabber away French to him: 'Polly woes a french say,' says I. 'I don't understand Yankee yet,' says he. 'You don't understand!' says I, 'why it's French. I guess you didn't expect to hear such good French, did you, away down east here? But we speak it real well, and it's generally allowed we speak English, too, better than the British.' 'Oh,' says he, 'you one very droll Yankee, dat very good joke, Sare; you talk Indian and call it French.' 'But,' says I, 'Mister Mount shear; it is French, I vow; real merchantable, without wainy edge or shakes—all clear stuff; it will pass survey in any market—it's ready stuck and seasoned.' 'Oh, very like,' says he, bowin' as polite as a black waiter at New OrLEENS, 'very like, only I never heerd it afore; oh, very good French dat—CLEAR STUFF, no doubt, but I no understand—it's all my fault, I dare say, Sare.'
"Thinks I to myself, a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. I see how the cat jumps—Minister knows so many languages he hain't been particular enough to keep 'em in separate parcels and mark 'em on the back, and they've got mixed, and sure enough I found my French was so overrun with other sorts, that it was better to lose the whole crop than to go to weedin', for as fast as I pulled up any strange seedlin', it would grow right up agin as quick as wink, if there was the least bit of root in the world left in the ground, so I let it all rot on the field.
"There is no way so good to larn French as to live among 'em, and if you WANT TO UNDERSTAND US, YOU MUST LIVE AMONG US, TOO; your Halls, Hamiltons, and De Rouses, and such critters, what can they know of us? Can a chap catch a likeness flyin' along a railroad? Can he even see the feature? Old Admiral Anson once axed one of our folks afore our glorious Revolution (if the British had a known us a little grain better at that time, they wouldn't have got whipped like a sack as they did then), where he came from. 'From the Chesapeeke,' said he. 'Aye, aye,' said the Admiral, 'from the West Indies.' 'I guess,' said the Southaner, 'you may have been clean round the world, Admiral, but you have been plaguy little in it, not to know better nor that.'
"I shot a wild goose at River Philip last year, with the rice of Varginny fresh in his crop; he must have cracked on near about as fast as them other geese, the British travellers. Which know'd the most of the country they passed over, do you suppose? I guess it was much of a muchness—near about six of one and a half dozen of t'other; two eyes ain't much better than one, if they are both blind.
"No, if you want to know all about us and the Bluenoses (a pretty considerable share of Yankee blood in them too, I tell you; the old stock comes from New England, and the breed is tolerable pure yet, near about one half apple sarce, and t'other half molasses, all except to the East'ard, where there is a cross of the Scotch), jist ax me and I'll tell you candidly. I'm not one of them that can't see no good points in my neighbour's critter, and no bad ones in my own; I've seen too much of the world for that, I guess. Indeed, in a general way, I praise other folks' beasts, and keep dark about my own. Says I, when I meet Bluenose mounted, 'that's a real smart horse of your'n, put him out, I guess he'll trot like mad.' Well, he lets him have the spur, and the critter does his best, and then I pass him like a streak of lightning with mine. The feller looks all taken aback at that. 'Why,' says he, 'that's a real clipper of your'n, I vow.' 'Middlin',' says I (quite cool, as if I had heard that 'ere same thing a thousand times), 'he's good enough for me, jist a fair trotter, and nothin' to brag of. That goes near about as far agin in a general way, as a crackin' and a boastin' does. Never TELL folks you can go a head on 'em, but DO it; it spares a great deal of talk, and helps them to save their breath to cool their broth.
"No, if you want to know the inns and the outs of the Yankees—I've wintered them and summered them; I know all their points, shape, make and breed; I've tried 'em alongside of other folks, and I know where they fall short, where they mate 'em, and where they have the advantage, about as well as some who think they know a plaguy sight more. It ain't them that stare the most, that see the best always, I guess. Our folks have their faults, and I know them (I warn't born blind, I reckon), but your friends, the tour writers, are a little grain too hard on us. Our old nigger wench had several dirty, ugly-lookin' children, and was proper cross to 'em. Mother used to say, 'Juno, it's better never to wipe a child's nose at all, I guess, than to wring it off.'"
No. XII
The American Eagle.
"Jist look out of the door," said the Clockmaker, "and see what a beautiful night it is, how calm, how still, how clear it is; bean't it lovely? I like to look up at them 'ere stars, when I am away from home; they put me in mind of our national flag, and it is generally allowed to be the first flag in the univarse now. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. It's near about the prettiest sight I know of, is one of our first class Frigates, manned with our free and enlightened citizens all ready for sea; it's like the great American Eagle, on its perch, balancing itself for a start on the broad expanse of blue sky, afeared of nothin' of its kind, and president of all it surveys. It was a good emblem that we chose, warn't it?"
There was no evading so direct, and at the same time, so conceited an appeal as this. "Certainly," said I, "the emblem was well chosen. I was particularly struck with it on observing the device on your naval buttons during the last war—an eagle with an anchor in its claws. That was a natural idea, taken from an ordinary occurrence: a bird purloining the anchor of a frigate—an article so useful and necessary for the food of its young. It was well chosen, and exhibited great taste and judgment in the artist. The emblem is more appropriate than you are aware of—boasting of what you cannot perform—grasping at what you cannot attain—an emblem of arrogance and weakness—of ill-directed ambition and vulgar pretension."
"It's a common phrase," said he with great composure, "among seamen, to say 'Damn your buttons,' and I guess it's natural for you to say so of the buttons of our navals; I guess you have a right to that 'ere oath. It's a sore subject, that, I reckon, and I believe I hadn't ought to have spoken of it to you at all. Brag is a good dog, but hold fast is a better one."
He was evidently annoyed, and with his usual dexterity gave vent to his feelings by a sally upon the Bluenoses, who he says are a cross of English and Yankee, and therefore first cousins to us both. "Perhaps," said he, "that 'ere Eagle might with more propriety have been taken off as perched on an anchor, instead of holding it in his claws, and I think it would have been more nateral; but I suppose it was some stupid foreign artist that made that 'ere blunder, I never seed one yet that was equal to our'n. If that Eagle is represented as trying what he can't do, it's an honourable ambition arter all, but these Bluenoses won't try what they can do. They put me in mind of a great big hulk of a horse in a cart, that won't put his shoulder to the collar at all for all the lambastin' in the world, but turns his head round and looks at you, as much as to say, 'what an everlastin' heavy thing an empty cart is, isnt it?' An Owl should be their emblem, and the motto, 'He sleeps all the days of his life.' The whole country is like this night; beautiful to look at, but silent as the grave—still as death, asleep, becalmed.
"If the sea was always calm," said he, "it would pyson the univarse; no soul could breathe the air, it would be so uncommon bad. Stagnant water is always unpleasant, but salt water when it gets tainted beats all natur'; motion keeps it sweet and wholesome, and that our minister used to say is one of the 'wonders of the great deep.' This province is stagnant; it ain't deep like still water neither, for it's shaller enough, gracious knows, but it is motionless, noiseless, lifeless. If you have ever been to sea, in a calm, you'd know what a plaguy tiresome thing it is for a man that's in a hurry. An everlastin' flappin' of the sails, and a creakin' of the boombs, and an onsteady pitchin' of the ship, and folks lyin' about dozin' away their time, and the sea a-heavin' a long heavy swell, like the breathin' of the chist of some great monster asleep. A passenger wonders the sailors are so plagy easy about it, and he goes a-lookin' out east, and a-spyin' out west, to see if there's any chance of a breeze, and says to himself 'Well, if this ain't dull music it's a pity.' Then how streaked he feels when he sees a steamboat a-clippin' it by him like mad, and the folks on board pokin' fun at him, and askin' him if he has any word to send to home. 'Well,' he says, 'if any soul ever catches me on board a sail vessel again, when I can go by steam, I'll give him leave to tell me of it, that's a fact.'
"That's partly the case here. They are becalmed, and they see us going ahead on them, till we are e'enamost clean out of sight; yet they hain't got a steamboat, and they hain't got a railroad; indeed, I doubt if one half on 'em ever seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them. I never seed any folks like 'em except the Indians, and they won't even so much as look—they havn't the least morsel of curiosity in the world; from which one of our Unitarian preachers (they are dreadful hands at DOUBTIN' them. I don't DOUBT but some day or another, they will DOUBT whether everything ain't a DOUBT), in a very learned work, doubts whether they were ever descended from Eve at all. Old marm Eve's children, he says, are all lost, it is said, in consequence of TOO MUCH curiosity, while these copper coloured folks are lost from havin' TOO LITTLE little. How can they be the same? Thinks I, that may be logic, old Dubersome, but it ain't sense, don't extremes meet? Now these Bluenoses have no motion in 'em, no enterprise, no spirit, and if any critter shows any symptoms of activity, they say he is a man of no judgment, he's speculative, he's a schemer, in short he's mad. They vegitate like a lettuce plant in sarse garden, they grow tall and, spindlin', run to seed right off, grow as bitter as gaul and die."
"A gal once came to our minister to hire as a house-help; says she, 'Minister, I suppose you don't want a young lady to do chamber business and breed worms do you? For I've half a mind to take a spell of livin' out.' She meant," said the Clockmaker, "house work and rearing silk-worms. 'My pretty maiden,' says he, a-pattin' her on the cheek (for I've often observed old men always talk kinder pleasant to young women), 'my pretty maiden where was you brought up?' 'Why,' says she, 'I guess I warn't brought up at all, I growed up.' 'Under what platform,' says he (for he was very particular that all his house-helps should go to his meetin'), 'under what Church platform?' 'Church platform!' says she, with a toss of her head, like a young colt that's got a check of the curb, 'I guess I warn't raised under a platform at all, but in as good a house as your'n, grand as you be.' 'You said well,' said the old minister, quite shocked, 'when you said you growed up, dear, for you have grown up in great ignorance.' 'Then I guess you had better get a lady that knows more than me,' says she, 'that's flat. I reckon I am every bit and grain as good as you be. If I don't understand a bum-byx (silk-worm), both feedin', breedin', and rearin', then I want to know who does, that's all; church platform indeed!' says she; 'I guess you were raised under a glass frame in March, and transplanted on Independence day, warn't you?' And off she sot, lookin' as scorney as a London lady, and leavin' the poor minister standin' starin' like a stuck pig. 'Well, well,' says he, a-liftin' up both hands, and turnin' up the whites of his eyes like a duck in thunder, 'if that don't bang the bush! It fearly beats sheep shearin' arter the blackberry bushes have got the wool. It does, I vow; them are the tares them Unitarians sow in our grain fields at night; I guess they'll ruinate the crops yet, and make the grounds so everlastin' foul; we'll have to pare the sod and burn it, to kill the roots. Our fathers sowed the right seed here in the wilderness, and watered it with their tears, and watched over it with fastin' and prayer, and now it's fairly run out, that's a fact, I snore. It's got choked up with all sorts of trash in, natur', I declare. Dear, dear, I vow I never seed the beat o' that in all my born days.'
"Now the Bluenoses are like that 'ere gal; they have grown up, and grown up in ignorance of many things they hadn't ought not to know; and it's as hard to teach grown-up folks as it is to break a six-year-old horse; and they do rile one's temper so—they act so ugly that it tempts one sometimes to break their confounded necks; it's near about as much trouble as it's worth."
"What remedy is there for all this supineness," said I; "how can these people be awakened out of their ignorant slothfulness, into active exertion?"
"The remedy," said Mr. Slick, "is at hand—it is already workin' its own cure. They must recede before our free and enlightened citizens like the Indians; our folks will buy them out, and they must give place to a more intelligent and ac-TIVE people. They must go to the lands of Labrador, or be located back of Canada; they can hold on there a few years, until the wave of civilization reaches them, and then they must move again, as the savages do. It is decreed; I hear the bugle of destiny a-soundin' of their retreat, as plain as anything. Congress will give them a concession of land, if they petition, away to Alleghany's backside territory, and grant them relief for a few years; for we are out of debt, and don't know what to do with our surplus revenue. The only way to shame them, that I know, would be to sarve them as Uncle Enoch sarved a neighbour of his in Varginny.
"There was a lady that had a plantation near hand to his'n, and there was only a small river atwixt the two houses, so that folks could hear each other talk across it. Well, she was a dreadful cross-grained woman, a real catamount, as savage as a she bear that has cubs, an old farrow critter, as ugly as sin, and one that both hooked and kicked too—a most particular onmarciful she-devil, that's a fact. She used to have some of her niggers tied up every day, and flogged uncommon severe, and their screams and screeches were horrid—no soul could stand it; nothin' was heerd all day, but 'Oh Lord Missus! Oh Lord Missus!' Enoch was fairly sick of the sound, for he was a tender-hearted man, and says he to her one day, 'Now do marm find out some other place to give your cattle the cowskin, for it worries me to hear 'em take on so dreadful bad; I can't stand it, I vow; they are flesh and blood as well as we be, though the meat is a different colour.' But it was no good; she jist up and told him to mind his own business, and she guessed she'd mind her'n. He was determined to shame her out of it; so one mornin' after breakfast he goes into the cane field, and says he to Lavender, one of the black overseers, 'Muster up the whole gang of slaves, every soul, and bring 'em down to the whippin' post, the whole stock of them, bulls, cows and calves.' Well, away goes Lavender, and drives up all the niggers. 'Now you catch it,' says he, 'you lazy villains; I tole you so many a time—I tole you Massa he lose all patience wid you, you good-for-nothin' rascals. I grad, upon my soul, I werry grad; you mind now what old Lavender say anoder time.' The black overseers are always the most cruel," said the Clockmaker; "they have no sort of feeling for their own people.
"Well, when they were gathered there according to orders, they looked streaked enough you may depend, thinkin' they were going to get it all round, and the wenches they fell to a-cryin', wringin' their hands, and boo-hooing like mad. Lavender was there with his cowskin, grinnin' like a chessy cat, and crackin' it about, ready for business. 'Pick me out,' says Enoch, 'four that have the loudest voices.' 'Hard matter dat,' says Lavender, 'hard matter dat, Massa, dey all talk loud, dey all lub talk more better nor work—de idle villians; better gib 'em all a little tickle, jist to teach 'em larf on t'other side of de mouth; dat side bran' new, they never use it yet.' 'Do as I order you, sir,' said Uncle, 'or I'll have you triced up, you cruel old rascal you.' When they were picked out and sot by themselves, they hanged their heads, and looked like sheep goin' to the shambles. 'Now, says Uncle Enoch, my pickininnies, do you sing out as loud as Niagara, at the very tip eend of your voice—
'"Don't kill a nigger, pray,Let him lib anoder day.Oh Lord Missus—oh Lord Missus!
'"My back be very sore,No stand it any more,Oh Lord Missus—oh Lord Missus!"
And all the rest of you join chorus, as loud as you can bawl, "Oh Lord Missus."' The black rascals understood the joke real well. They larfed ready to split their sides; they fairly lay down on the ground, and rolled over and over with lafter. Well, when they came to the chorus 'Oh Lord Missus,' if they didn't let go, it's a pity. They made the river ring agin—they were heerd clean out to sea. All the folks ran out of the Lady's House, to see what on airth was the matter on Uncle Enoch's plantation—they thought there was actilly a rebellion there; but when they listened awhile, and heerd it over and over again, they took the hint, and returned a-larfin' in their sleeves. Says they, 'Master Enoch Slick, he upsides with Missus this hitch anyhow.' Uncle never heerd anything more of 'Oh Lord Missus' arter that Yes, they ought to be shamed out of it, those Bluenoses. When reason fails to convince, there is nothin' left but ridicule. If they have no ambition, apply to their feelings, slap a blister on their pride, and it will do the business. It's like a-puttin' ginger under a horse's tail; it makes him carry up real handSUM, I tell you. When I was a boy, I was always late to school: well father's preachin' I didn't mind much, but I never could bear to hear mother say, 'Why Sam, are you actilly up for all day? Well, I hope your airly risin' won't hurt you, I declare. What on airth is a-goin' to happen now?' Well, wonders will never cease. It raised my dander; at last says I, 'Now, mother, don't say that 'ere any more for gracious sake, for it makes me feel ugly, and I'll get up as airly as any on you,' and so I did, and I soon found what's worth knowin' in this life—An airly start makes easy stages."
No. XIII
The Clockmaker's Opinion of Halifax.
The next morning was warmer than several that had preceded it. It was one of those uncommonly fine days that distinguish an American autumn.
"I guess," said Mr. Slick, "the heat today is like a glass of mint julip, with a lump of ice in it, it tastes cool and feels warm; it's real good, I tell you. I love such a day as this dearly. It's generally allowed the finest weather in the world is in America; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere." He then lighted a cigar, and throwing himself back on his chair, put both feet out of the window, and sat with his arms folded, a perfect picture of happiness.
"You appear," said I, "to have travelled over the whole of this Province, and to have observed the country and the people with much attention; pray what is your opinion of the present state and future prospects of Halifax?"
"If you will tell me," said he, "when the folks there will wake up, then I can answer you, but they are fast asleep. As to the Province, it's a splendid province, and calculated to go ahead, it will grow as fast as a Varginny gal; and they grow so amazin' fast, if you put your arm round one of their necks to kiss them, by the time you're done, they've grown up into women. It's a pretty Province I tell you, good above and better below; surface covered with pastures, meadows, woods, and a 'nation sight of water privileges, and under the ground full of mines—it puts me in mind of the soup at the TREE-mont House.
"One day I was a-walkin' in the Mall, and who should I meet but Major Bradford, a gentleman from Connecticut, that traded in calves and pumpkins for the Boston market. Says he, 'Slick, where do you get your grub today?' 'At General Peep's tavern,' says I. 'Only fit for niggers,' says he, 'why don't you come to the TREE-mont house, that's the most splendid thing, it's generally allowed, in all the world.' 'Why,' says I, 'that's a notch above my mark; I guess it's too plagy dear for me, I can't afford it no how.' 'Well,' says he, 'it's dear in one sense, but it's dog cheap in another—it's a grand place for speculation. There's so many rich southerners and strangers there that have more money than wit, that you might do a pretty good business there, without goin' out of the street door. I made two hundred dollars this mornin' in little less than half no time. There's a Carolina lawyer there, as rich as a bank, and says he to me arter breakfast, "Major," says he, "I wish I knew where to get a real slapping trotter of a horse, one that could trot with a flash of lightning for a mile, and beat it by a whole neck or so." Says I, "My Lord," for you must know, he says he's the nearest male heir to a Scotch dormant peerage, "my Lord," says I, "I have one, a proper sneezer, a chap that can go ahead of a railroad steamer, a real natural traveller, one that can trot with the ball out of the small eend of a rifle, and never break into a gallop." Says he, "Major, I wish you wouldn't give me that 'ere nickname, I don't like it," though he looked as tickled all the time as possible; "I never knew," says he, "a lord that warn't a fool, that's a fact, and that's the reason I don't go ahead and claim the title." "Well," says I, "my Lord I don't know, but somehow I can't help a-thinkin', if you have a good claim, you'd be more like a fool not to go ahead with it." "Well," says he, "lord or no lord, let's look at your horse." So away I went to Joe Brown's livery stable, at t'other eend of the city, and picked out the best trotter he had, and no great stick to brag on either; says I, "Joe Brown what do you ax for that 'ere horse?" "Two hundred dollars," says he. "Well," says I, "I will take him out and try him, and if I like him I will keep him." So I shows our Carolina Lord the horse, and when he gets on him, says I, "Don't let him trot as fast as he can, resarve that for a heat; if folks find out how everlastin' fast he is, they'd be afeared to stump you for a start." When he returned, he said he liked the horse amazinly, and axed the price; "four hundred dollars," says I, "you can't get nothin' special without a good price, pewter cases never hold good watches." "I know it," says he, "the horse is mine." Thinks I to myself, that's more than ever I could say of him then anyhow.'
"Well, I was goin' to tell you about the soup; says the Major, 'It's near about dinner time, jist come and see how you like the location.' There was a sight of folks there, gentlemen and ladies in the public room—I never seed so many afore except at commencement day—all ready for a start, and when the gong sounded, off we sot like a flock of sheep. Well, if there warn't a jam you may depend; some one give me a pull, and I near abouts went heels up over head, so I reached out both hands, and caught hold of the first thing I could, and what should it be but a lady's dress—well, as I'm alive, rip went the frock, and tear goes the petticoat, and when I righted myself from my beam eends, away they all came home to me, and there she was, the pretty critter, with all her upper riggin' standin' as far as her waist, and nothin' left below but a short linen under-garment. If she didn't scream, it's a pity, and the more she screamed the more folks larfed, for no soul could help larfin', till one of the waiters folded her up in a tablecloth.
"'What an awkward devil you be, Slick,' says the Major; 'now that comes of not falling in first; they should have formed four deep, rear rank in open order, and marched in to our splendid national air, and filed off to their seats right and left shoulders forward. I feel kinder sorry, too,' says he, 'for that 'ere young heifer; but she showed a proper pretty leg tho' Slick, didn't she? I guess you don't often get such a chance as that 'ere.' Well, I gets near the Major at table, and afore me stood a china utensil with two handles, full of soup, about the size of a foot-tub, with a large silver scoop in it, near about as big as a ladle of a maple sugar kettle. I was jist about bailing out some soup into my dish, when the Major said, 'Fish it up from the bottom, Slick.' Well, sure enough, I gives it a drag from the bottom, and up come the fat pieces of turtle, and the thick rich soup, and a sight of little forced meat balls of the size of sheep's dung. No soul could tell how good it was; it was near about as handSUM as father's old genuine particular cider, and that you could feel tingle clean away down to the tip eends of your toes. 'Now,' says the Major, 'I'll give you, Slick, a new wrinkle on your horn. Folks ain't thought nothin' of unless they live at Treemont: it's all the go. Do you dine at Peep's tavern every day, and then off hot foot to Treemont, and pick your teeth on the street steps there, and folks will think you dine there. I do it often, and it saves two dollars a day.' Then he put his finger on his nose, and says he, 'Mum is the word.'
"Now, this Province is jist like that 'ere soup—good enough at top, but dip down and you have the riches, the coal, the iron ore, the gypsum, and what not. As for Halifax, it's well enough in itself, though no great shakes neither, a few sizeable houses, with a proper sight of small ones, like half a dozen old hens with their broods of young chickens; but the people, the strange critters, they are all asleep. They walk in their sleep, and talk in their sleep, and what they say one day they forget the next; they say they were dreaming. You know where Governor Campbell lives, don't you, in a large stone house with a great wall round it, that looks like a state prison; well, near hand there is a nasty dirty horrid-lookin' buryin' ground there; it's filled with large grave rats as big as kittens, and the springs of black water there go through the chinks of the rocks and flow into all the wells, and fairly pyson the folks; it's a dismal place, I tell you; I wonder the air from it don't turn all the silver in the Governor's house of a brass colour—and folks say he has four cart loads of it—it's so everlastin' bad; it's near about as nosey as a slave ship of niggers. Well you may go there and shake the folks to all etarnity and you won't wake 'em, I guess, and yet there ain't much difference atween their sleep and the folks at Halifax, only they lie still there and are quiet, and don't walk and talk in their sleep like them above ground.
"Halifax reminds me of a Russian officer I once seed at Warsaw; he had lost both arms in battle—but I guess I must tell you first why I went there, 'cause that will show you how we speculate. One Sabbath day, after bell ringin', when most of the women had gone to meetin'—for they were great hands for pretty sarmons, and our Unitarian ministers all preach poetry, only they leave the rhyme out; it sparkles like perry—I goes down to East India wharf to see Captain Zeek Hancock, of Nantucket, to enquire how oil was, and if it it would bear doin' anything in; when who should come along but Jabish Green. 'Slick,' says he, 'how do you do; isn't this as pretty a day as you'll see between this and Norfolk; it whips English weather by a long chalk;' and then he looked down at my watch seals, and looked and looked as if he thought I'd stole 'em. At last he looks up, and says he, 'Slick, I suppose you wouldn't go to Warsaw, would you, if it was made worth your while?' 'Which Warsaw?' says I, for I believe in my heart we have a hundred of 'em. 'None of our'n at all,' says he; 'Warsaw in Poland.' 'Well, I don't know,' says I; 'what do you call worth while?' 'Six dollars a day, expenses paid, and a bonus of one thousand dollars, if speculation turns out well.' 'I am off,' says I, 'whenever you say go.' 'Tuesday,' says he, 'in the Hamburg packet. Now,' says he, 'I'm in a tarnation hurry; I'm goin' a-pleasurin' today in the Custom House Boat, along with Josiah Bradford's gals down to Nahant. But I'll tell you what I am at: the Emperor of Russia has ordered the Poles to cut off their queues on the 1st of January; you must buy them all up, and ship them off to London for the wig makers. Human hair is scarce and risin'. 'Lord a massy!' says I, 'how queer they will look, won't they. Well, I vow, that's what the sea folks call sailing under bare poles, come true, ain't it?' 'I guess it will turn out a good spec,' says he; and a good one it did turn out—he cleared ten thousand dollars by it.
"When I was at Warsaw, as I was a-sayin', there was a Russian officer there who had lost both his arms in battle; a good-natured contented critter, as I e'enamost ever seed, and he was fed with spoons by his neighbours, but arter awhile they grew tired of it, and I guess he near about starved to death at last. Now Halifax is like that 'ere SPOONEY, as I used to call him; it is fed by the outports, and they begin to have enough to do to feed themselves; it must larn to live without 'em. They have no river, and no country about 'em; let them make a railroad to Minas Basin, and they will have arms of their own to feed themselves with. If they don't do it, and do it soon, I guess they'll get into a decline that no human skill will cure. They are proper thin now; you can count their ribs e'enamost as far as you can see them. The only thing that will either make or save Halifax, is a railroad across the country to Bay of Fundy.
"'It will do to talk of,' says one. 'You'll see it some day,' says another. 'Yes,' says a third, 'it will come, but we are too young yet.'
"Our old minister had a darter, a real clever-lookin' gal as you'd see in a day's ride, and she had two or three offers of marriage from 'sponsible men—most particular good specs—but minister always said, 'Phoebe, you are too young—the day will come—but you are too young yet dear.' Well, Phoebe didn't think so at all; she said she guessed she knew better nor that: so the next offer she had, she said she had no notion to lose another chance—off she shot to Rhode Island and got married. Says she, 'Father's too old, he don't know.' That's jist the case at Halifax. The old folks say the country is too young, the time will come, and so on; and in the meantime the young folks won't wait, and run off to the States, where the maxim is, 'Youth is the time for improvement; a new country is never too young for exertion; push on—keep movin—go ahead.'
"Darn it all," said the Clockmaker, rising with great animation, clinching his fist, and extending his arm, "darn it all, it fairly makes my dander rise, to see the nasty idle, loungin' good-for-nothin', do-little critters; they ain't fit to tend a bear-trap, I vow. They ought to be quilted round and round a room, like a lady's lap-dog, the matter of two hours a day, to keep them from dyin' of apoplexy."
"Hush, hush!" said I, "Mr. Slick, you forget."
"Well," said he, resuming his usual composure, "well, it's enough to make one vexed though, I declare—isn't it?"
Mr. Slick has often alluded to this subject, and always in a most decided manner. I am inclined to think he is right. Mr. Howe's papers on the railroad I read till I came to his calculations, but I never could read figures, "I can't cipher," and there I paused; it was a barrier: I retreated a few paces, took a running leap, and cleared the whole of them. Mr. Slick says he has UNDER and not OVER rated its advantages. He appears to be such a shrewd, observing, intelligent man, and so perfectly at home on these subjects, that I confess I have more faith in this humble but eccentric Clockmaker, than in any other man I have met with in this Province. I therefore pronounce "there will be a railroad."
No. XIV
Sayings and Doings in Cumberland.
"I reckon," said the Clockmaker, as we strolled through Amherst, "you have read Hook's story of the boy that one day asked one of his father's guests who his next door neighbour was, and when he heerd his name, asked him if he warn't a fool. 'No, my little feller,' said he, 'he bean't a fool, he is a most particular sensible man; but why did you ax that 'ere question?' 'Why,' said the little boy, 'mother said t'other day you were next door to a fool, and I wanted to know who lived next door to you.' His mother felt pretty ugly, I guess, when she heerd him run right slap on that 'ere breaker.
"Now these Cumberland folks have curious next door neighbours, too; they are placed by their location right atwixt fire and water; they have New Brunswick politics on one side, and Nova Scotia politics on t'other side of them, and Bay Fundy and Bay Varte on t'other two sides; they are actilly in hot water; they are up to their cruppers in politics, and great hands for talking of House of Assembly, political Unions, and what not. Like all folks who wade so deep, they can't always tell the natur' of the ford. Sometimes they strike their shins agin a snag of a rock; at other times they go whap into a quicksand, and if they don't take special care they are apt to go souse over head and ears into deep water. I guess if they'd talk more of ROTATION, and less of ELECTIONS, more of them 'ere DYKES, and less of BANKS, and attend more to TOP-DRESSING, and less to RE-DRESSING, it'd be better for 'em."
"Now you mention the subject, I think I have observed," said I, "that there is a great change in your countrymen in that respect. Formerly, whenever you met an American, you had a dish of politics set before you, whether you had an appetite for it or not; but lately I have remarked they seldom allude to it. Pray to what is this attributable?"
"I guess," said he, "they have enough of it to home, and are sick of the subject. They are cured the way our pastry cooks cure their 'prentices of stealing sweet notions out of their shops. When they get a new 'prentice they tell him he must never so much as look at all them 'ere nice things; and if he dares to lay the weight of his finger upon one on 'em, they'll have him up for it before a justice; they tell him it's every bit and grain as bad as stealing from a till. Well, that's sure to set him at it, just as a high fence does a breachy ox, first to look over it, and then to push it down with its rump; it's human natur'. Well, the boy eats and eats till he can't eat no longer, and then he gets sick at his stomach, and hates the very sight of sweetmeats arterwards.
"We've had politics with us, till we're dog sick of 'em, I tell you. Besides, I guess we are as far from perfection as when we set out a-rowin' for it. You may get purity of Election, but how are you to get purity of Members? It would take a great deal of ciphering to tell that. I never seed it yet, and never heerd tell of one who had seed it.
"The best member I e'enamost ever seed was John Adams. Well, John Adams could no more plough a straight furrow in politics than he could haul the plough himself. He might set out straight at beginnin' for a little way, but he was sure to get crooked afore he got to the eend of the ridge—and sometimes he would have two or three crooks in it. I used to say to him, 'How on airth is it, Mr. Adams'—for he was no way proud like, though he was president of our great nation, and it is allowed to be the greatest nation in the world, too; for you might see him sometimes of an arternoon, a-swimmin' along with the boys in the Potomac; I do believe that's the way he larned to give the folks the dodge so spry—well, I used to say to him, 'How on airth is it, Mr. Adams, you can't make straight work on it?' He was a grand hand at an excuse, though minister used to say that folks that were good at an excuse, were seldom good for nothin' else; sometimes he said the ground was so tarnation stony, it throwed the plough out; at other times he said the off ox was such an ugly wilful-tempered critter, there was no doin' nothin' with him; or that there was so much machinery about the plough, it made it plagy hard to steer; or maybe it was the fault of them that went afore him, that they laid it down so bad; unless he was hired for another term of four years, the work wouldn't look well; and if all them 'ere excuses wouldn't do, why he would take to scolding the nigger that drove the team, throw all the blame on him, and order him to have an everlastin' lacin' with the cowskin. You might as well catch a weasel asleep as catch him. He had somethin' the matter with one eye; well, he knew I know'd that when I was a boy; so one day, a feller presented a petition to him, and he told him it was very affectin'. Says he, 'it fairly draws tears from me,' and his weak eye took to lettin' off its water like statiee so as soon as the chap went, he winks to me with t'other one, quite knowin', as much as to say, 'You see it's all in my eye, Slick, but don't let on to any one about it, that I said so.' That eye was a regular cheat, a complete New England wooden nutmeg. Folks said Mr. Adams was a very tender-hearted man. Perhaps he was, but I guess that eye didn't pump its water out o' that place.
"Members in general ain't to be depended on, I tell you. Politics makes a man as crooked as a pack does a peddler; not that they are so awful heavy, neither, but it TEACHES A MAN TO STOOP IN THE LONG RUN. Arter all, there's not that difference in 'em—at least there ain't in Congress—one would think; for if one on 'em is clear of one vice, why, as like as not, he has another fault just as bad. An honest farmer, like one of these Cumberland folks, when he goes to choose atwixt two that offers for votes, is jist like the flying-fish. That 'ere little critter is not content to stay to home in the water, and mind its business, but he must try his hand at flyin', and he is no great dab at flyin', neither. Well, the moment he's out of water, and takes to flyin', the sea fowl are arter him, and let him have it; and if he has the good luck to escape them, and makes a dive into the sea, the dolphin, as like as not, has a dig at him, that knocks more wind out of him than he got while aping the birds, a plagy sight. I guess the Bluenose knows jist about as much about politics as this foolish fish knows about flyin'. All the critters in natur' are better in their own element.
"It beats cock-fightin', I tell you, to hear the Bluenoses, when they get together, talk politics. They have got three or four evil spirits, like the Irish Banshees, that they say cause all the mischief in the province: the council, the banks, the house of assembly and the lawyers. If a man places a higher valiation on himself than his neighbours do, and wants to be a magistrate before he is fit to carry the ink horn for one, and finds himself safely delivered of a mistake, he says it is all owing to the Council. The members are cunnin' critters, too; they know this feelin', and when they come home from Assembly, and people ax 'em, 'where are all them 'ere fine things you promised us?' 'Why,' they say, 'we'd a had 'em all for you, but for that etarnal Council, they nullified all we did.' The country will come to no good till them chaps show their respect for it, by covering their bottoms with homespun. If a man is so tarnation lazy he won't work, and in course has no money, why he says it's all owin' to the banks, they won't discount, there's no money, they've ruined the Province. If there bean't a road made up to every citizen's door, away back to the woods—who as like as not has squatted there—why he says the House of Assembly have voted all the money to pay great men's salaries, and there's nothin' left for poor settlers, and cross roads. Well, the lawyers come in for their share of cake and ale, too; if they don't catch it, it's a pity.
"There was one Jim Munroe of Onion County, Connecticut, a desperate idle fellow, a great hand at singin' songs, a-skatin', drivin' about with the gals, and so on. Well, if anybody's windows were broke, it was Jim Munroe, if any man's horse lost a tail, or anybody's dog got a kettle tied on to his'n, it was Jim Munroe, and if there were any youngsters in want of a father, they were sure to be poor Jim's. Jist so it is with the lawyers here; they stand Godfathers for every misfortune that happens in the country. When there is a mad dog a-goin' about, every dog that barks is said to be bit by the mad one, so he gets credit for all the mischief that every dog does for three months to come. So every feller that goes yelpin' home from a court house, smartin' from the law, swears he is bit by a lawyer. Now there may be something wrong in all these things—and it can't be otherwise in natur'—in council, banks, house of assembly, and lawyers: but change them all, and it's an even chance if you don't get worse ones in their room. It is in politics as in horses; when a man has a beast that's near about up to the notch, he'd better not swap him; if he does, he's e'enamost sure to get one not so good as his own. My rule is, I'd rather keep a critter whose faults I do know, than change him for a beast whose faults I don't know."
No. XV
The Dancing Master Abroad.
"I wish that 'ere black heifer in the kitchen would give over singing that 'ere everlastin' dismal tune," said the Clockmaker, "it makes my head ache. You've heerd a song afore now," said he, "havn't you, till you was fairly sick of it? for I have, I vow. The last time I was in Rhode Island—all the gals sing there, and it's generally allowed there's no such singers anywhere; they beat the EYE-talians a long chalk; they sing so high some on 'em, they go clear out o' hearin' sometimes, like a lark—well, you heerd nothin' but 'Oh no, we never mention her;' well, I grew so plaguy tired of it, I used to say to myself, I'd sooner see it, than heer tell of it, I vow; I wish to gracious you would 'never mention her,' for it makes me feel ugly to hear that same thing for ever and ever and amen that way. Well, they've got a cant phrase here, 'the schoolmaster is abroad,' and every feller tells you that fifty times a day.