"There was a chap said to me not long ago, at Truro, 'Mr. Slick, this Country is rapidly improving, "the schoolmaster is abroad now,"' and he looked as knowin' as though he had found a mate's nest. 'So I should think,' said I, 'and it would be jist about as well, I guess, if he'd stay to home and mind his business, for your folks are so consoomedly ignorant, I reckon he's abroad e'enamost all his time. I hope when he returns, he'll be the better of his travels, and that's more nor many of our young folks are who go "abroad," for they import more airs and nonsense than they dispose of one while, I tell you; some of the stock remains on hand all the rest of their lives.' There's nothin' I hate so much as cant, of all kinds, it's a sure sign of a tricky disposition. If you see a feller cant in religion, clap your hand into your pocket, and lay right hold of your puss, or he'll steal it as sure as you're alive; and if a man cant in politics, he'll sell you if he gets a chance, you may depend. Law and physic are jist the same, and every mite and morsel as bad. If a lawyer takes to cantin', it's like the fox preachin' to the geese, he'll eat up his whole congregation; and if a doctor takes to it, he's a quack as sure as rates. The Lord have massy on you, for he won't. I'd sooner trust my chance with a naked hook any time, than one that's half covered with bad bait. The fish will sometimes swaller the one, without thinkin', but they get frightened at t'other, turn tail and off like a shot.
"Now, to change the tune, I'll give the Bluenoses a new phrase. They'll have an election most likely next year, and then 'the dancin' master will be abroad.' A candidate is a most particular polite man, a-noddin' here, and a-bowin' there, and a-shakin' hands all round. Nothin' improves a man's manners like an election. 'The dancin' master's abroad then;' nothin' gives the paces equal to that, it makes them as squirmy as an eel, they cross hands and back agin, set to their partners and right and left in great style, and slick it off at the eend, with a real complete bow, and a smile for all the world as sweet as a cat makes at a pan of new milk. Then they get as full of compliments as a dog is full of fleas—enquirin' how the old lady is to home, and the little boy that made such a wonderful smart answer, they never can forget it till next time; a-praisin' a man's farm to the nines, and a-tellin' of him, how scandalous the road that leads to his location has been neglected, and how much he wants to find a real complete hand that can build a bridge over his brook, and axin' him if HE ever built one. When he gets the hook baited with the right fly, and the simple critter begins to jump out of water arter it, all mouth and gills, he winds up the reel, and takes leave, a-thinkin' to himself 'Now you see what's to the eend of my line, I guess I'll know where to find you when I want you.'
"There's no sort of fishin' requires so much practice as this. When bait is scarce one worm must answer for several fish. A handful of oats in a pan, arter it brings one horse up in a pastur' for the bridle, serves for another, a-shakin' of it, is better than a-givin' of it, it saves the grain for another time. It's a poor business arter all, is electioneering, and when 'the Dancin' Master is abroad,' he's as apt to teach a man to cut capers and get larfed at as anything else. It ain't every one that's soople enough to dance real complete. Politics take a great deal of time, and grind away a man's honesty near about as fast as cleaning a knife with brick dust, 'it takes its steel out.' What does a critter get arter all for it in this country, why nothin' but expense and disappointment. As King Solomon says—and that 'ere man was up to a thing or two, you may depend, though our professor did say he warn't so knowin' as Uncle Sam—it's all vanity and vexation of spirit.
"I raised a four-year-old colt once, half blood, a perfect pictur' of a horse, and a genuine clipper, could gallop like the wind; a real daisy, a perfect doll; had an eye like a weasel, and nostril like Commodore Rodgers' speakin' trumpet. Well, I took it down to the races at New York, and father he went along with me; for says he, 'Sam, you don't know everything, I guess, you hain't cut your wisdom teeth yet, and you are goin' among them that's had 'em through their gums this while past.' Well, when we gets to the races, father he gets colt and puts him in an old wagon, with a worn out Dutch harness, and breast band; he looked like Old Nick, that's a fact. Then he fastened a head martingale on, and buckled it to the girths atwixt his fore legs. Says I, 'Father, what on airth are you at? I vow I feel ashamed to be seen with such a catamaran as that, and colt looks like old Satan himself—no soul would know him.' 'I guess I warn't born yesterday, Sam,' says he, 'let me be, I know what I am at. I guess I'll slip it into 'em afore I've done as slick as a whistle. I guess I can see as far into a millstone as the best on 'em.'
"Well, father never entered the horse at all, but stood by and seed the races, and the winnin' horse was followed about by the matter of two or three thousand people, a-praisin' of him and admirin' him. They seemed as if they never had seed a horse afore. The owner of him was all up on eend a-boastin' of him, and a-stumpin' the course to produce a horse to run agin him for four hundred dollars. Father goes up to him, lookin' as soft as dough, and as meechin' as you please, and says he, 'Friend, it ain't every one that has four hundred dollars; it's a plaguy sight of money, I tell you; would you run for one hundred dollars, and give me a little start? If you would, I'd try my colt out of my old wagon agin you, I vow.' 'Let's look at your horse,' says he; so away they went, and a proper sight of people arter them to look at colt, and when they seed him they sot up such a larf, I felt e'enamost ready to cry for spite. Says I to myself; 'What can possess the old man to act arter that fashion, I do believe he has taken leave of his senses.' 'You needn't larf,' says Father, 'he's smarter than he looks; our Minister's old horse, Captain Jack, is reckoned as quick a beast of his age as any in our location, and that 'ere colt can beat him for a lick of a quarter of a mile quite easy; I seed it myself.' Well, they larfed agin louder than before, and says father, 'If you dispute my word, try me; what odds will you give?' 'Two to one,' says the owner, 'eight hundred to four hundred dollars.' 'Well, that's a great deal of money, ain't it,' says father, 'if I was to lose it I'd look pretty foolish, wouldn't I. How folks would pass their jokes at me when I went home again. You wouldn't take that 'ere wagon and harness for fifty dollars of it, would you?' says he. 'Well,' says the other, 'sooner than disappoint you, as you seem to have set your mind on losing your money, I don't care if I do.'
"As soon as it was settled, father drives off to the stables, and then returns mounted, with a red silk pocket handkerchief tied round his head, and colt a-looking like himself as proud as a nabob, chock full of spring like the wire eend of a bran' new pair of trouser galluses. One said, 'That's a plaguy nice lookin' colt that old feller has arter all.' 'That horse will show play for it yet,' says a third; and I heard one feller say, 'I guess that's a regular Yankee trick, a complete take in.' They had a fair start for it, and off they sot; father took the lead and kept it, and won the race, though it was a pretty tight scratch, for father was too old to ride colt, he was near about the matter of seventy years old.
"Well, when the colt was walked round after the race, there was an amazin' crowd arter him, and several wanted to buy him; but, says father, 'How am I to get home without him, and what shall I do with that 'ere wagon and harness so far as I be from Slickville.' So he kept them in talk, till he felt their pulses pretty well, and at last he closed with a Southerner for seven hundred dollars, and we returned, having made a considerable good spec of colt. Says father to me, 'Sam,' says he, 'you seed the crowd a-follerin' the winnin' horse, when we came there, didn't you?' 'Yes sir,' said I, 'I did.' 'Well, when colt beat him, no one follered him at all, but come a-crowdin' about HIM. That's popularity,' said he, 'soon won, soon lost—cried up sky high one minute, and deserted the next or run down; colt will share the same fate. He'll get beat afore long, and then he's done for. The multitude are always fickle-minded. Our great Washington found that out, and the British officer that beat Bonaparte, the bread they gave him turned sour afore he got half through the loaf. His soap had hardly stiffened afore it ran right back to lye and grease agin.
"'I was sarved the same way. I liked to have missed my pension; the Committee said I warn't at Bunker's hill at all, the villans. That was a Glo—-' Thinks I, old boy, if you once get into that 'ere field, you'll race longer than colt, a plaguy sight; you'll run clear away to the fence to the far eend afore you stop, so I jist cut in and took a hand myself. 'Yes,' says I, 'you did 'em father, properly; that old wagon was a bright scheme, it led 'em on till you got 'em on the right spot, didn't it?' Says father, 'THERE'S A MORAL SAM, IN EVERYTHING IN NATUR'. Never have nothin' to do with elections, you see the vally of popularity in the case of that 'ere horse—sarve the public nine hundred and ninety-nine times, and the thousandth, if they don't agree with you, they desart and abuse you. See how they sarved old John Adams, see how they let Jefferson starve in his old age, see how good old Munroe like to have got right into jail, after his term of President was up. They may talk of independence,' says father, 'but Sam, I'll tell you what independence is,' and he gave his hands a slap agin his trousers pocket, and made the gold eagles he won at the race all jingle agin—'THAT!' says he, giving them another wipe with his fist, and winkin', as much as to say, do you hear that, my boy! 'THAT I CALL INDEPENDENCE.' He was in great spirits, the old man, he was so proud of winnin' the race, and puttin' the leake into the New Yorkers, he looked all dander. 'Let them great hungry, ill-favoured, long-legged bitterns,' says he (only he called them by another name that don't sound quite pretty), 'from the outlandish states to Congress, TALK ABOUT independence; but Sam,' said he, hitting the shiners agin till he made them dance right up an eend in his pocket, 'I LIKE TO FEEL IT.'
"'No Sam,' said he, 'line the pocket well first, make that independent, and then the spirit will be like a horse turned out to grass in the spring for the first time; he's all head and tail, a-snortin' and kickin' and racin' and carryin' on like mad; it soon gets independent too. While it's in the stall it may hold up, and paw, and whinny, and feel as spry as anything, but the leather strap keeps it to the manger, and the lead weight to the eend of it makes it hold down its head at last. No,' says he, 'here's independence,' and he gave the Eagles such a drive with his fist, he bust his pocket and sent a whole raft of them a-spinnin' down his leg to the ground. Says I, 'father,' and I swear I could hardly keep from larfin', he looked so peskily vexed, 'Father,' says I, 'I guess there's a moral in that 'ere too: EXTREMES NARY WAY ARE NONE O' THE BEST.' 'Well, well,' says he, kinder snappishly, 'I suppose you're half right, Sam, but we've said enough about it; let's drop the subject, and see if I have picked 'em all up, for my eyes are none of the best now, I'm near hand to seventy.'"
No. XVI
Mr. Slick's Opinion of the British.
"What success had you," said I, "in the sale of your clocks among the Scotch in the eastern part of the Province? Do you find them as gullible as the Bluenoses?"
"Well," said he, "you have heerd tell that a Yankee never answers one question, without axing another, haven't you? Did you ever see an English stage-driver make a bow? because if you hain't observed it, I have, and a queer one it is, I swan. He brings his right arm up, jist across his face, and passes on, with a knowin' nod of his head, as much as to say, how do you do? but keep clear o' my wheels, or I'll fetch your horses a lick in the mouth as sure as you're born; jist as a bear puts up his paw to fend off the blow of a stick from his nose. Well, that's the way I pass them 'ere bare-breeched Scotchmen. Lord, if they were located down in these here Cumberland marshes, how the mosquitoes would tickle them up, wouldn't they? They'd set 'em scratching thereabouts, as an Irishman does his head, when he's in sarch of a lie. Them 'ere fellers cut their eye-teeth afore they ever sot foot in this country, I expect. When they get a bawbee, they know what to do with it, that's a fact; they open their pouch and drop it in, and it's got a spring like a fox-trap; it holds fast to all it gets, like grim death to a dead nigger. They are proper skinflints, you may depend. Oatmeal is no great shakes at best; it ain't even as good for a horse as real yeller Varginny corn, but I guess I warn't long in finding out that the grits hardly pay for the riddlin'. No, a Yankee has as little chance among them as a Jew has in New England; the sooner he clears out, the better. You can no more put a leake into them, than you can send a chisel into teake wood; it turns the edge of the tool the first drive. If the Bluenoses knew the value of money as well as they do, they'd have more cash, and fewer clocks and tin reflectors, I reckon.
"Now, it's different with the Irish; they never carry a puss, for they never have a cent to put in it. They are always in love or in liquor, or else in a row; they are the merriest shavers I ever seed. Judge Beler—I dare say you have heerd tell of him; he's a funny feller—he put a notice over his factory gate at Lowell, 'no cigars or Irishmen admitted within these walls;' for, said he, 'The one will set a flame a-goin' among my cottons, and t'other among my gals. I won't have no such inflammable and dangerous things about me on no account.' When the British wanted our folks to join in the treaty to chock the wheels of the slave trade, I recollect hearin' old John Adams say, we had ought to humour them; for, says he, 'They supply us with labour on easier terms, by shippin' out the Irish.' Says he, 'They work better, and they work cheaper, and they don't live so long. The blacks, when they are past work hang on for ever, and a proper bill of expence they be; but hot weather and new rum rub out the poor rates for t'other ones.'
"The English are the boys for tradin' with; they shell out their cash like a sheef of wheat in frosty weather; it flies all over the thrashin' floor; but then they are a cross-grained, ungainly, kickin' breed of cattle, as I e'enamost ever seed. Whoever gave them the name of John Bull, knew what he was about, I tell you; for they are bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow; sulky, ugly tempered, vicious critters, a-pawin' and a-roarin' the whole time, and plaguy onsafe unless well watched. They are as headstrong as mules, and as conceited as peacocks."
The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my countrymen absorbed every feeling of resentment. I listened with amazement at the perfect composure with which he uttered it. He treated it as one of those self-evident truths, that need neither proof nor apology, but as a thing well known and admitted by all mankind.
"There's no richer sight that I know of," said he, "than to see one on 'em when he first lands in one of our great cities. He swells out as big as a balloon; his skin is ready to burst with wind—a regular walking bag of gas; and he prances over the pavement like a bear over hot iron; a great awkward hulk of a feller—for they ain't to be compared to the French in manners—a-smirkin' at you, as much as to say, 'Look here, Jonathan, here's an Englishman; here's a boy that's got blood as pure as a Norman pirate, and lots of the blunt of both kinds, a pocket full of one, and a mouthfull of t'other; bean't he lovely?' and then he looks as fierce as a tiger, as much as to say, 'Say boo to a goose, if you dare.'
"No, I believe we may stump the univarse; we improve on everything, and we have improved on our own species. You'll search one while, I tell you, afore you'll find a man that, take him by and large, is equal to one of our free and enlightened citizens. He's the chap that has both speed, wind and bottom; he's clear grit—ginger to the backbone, you may depend. It's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anywhere. Spry as a fox, supple as an eel, and cute as a weasel. Though I say it that shouldn't say it, they fairly take the shine off creation—they are actilly equal to cash."
He looked like a man who felt that he had expressed himself so aptly and so well, that anything additional would only weaken its effect; he therefore changed the conversation immediately, by pointing to a tree at some little distance from the house, and remarking that it was the rock maple or sugar tree.
"It's a pretty tree," said he, "and a profitable one too to raise. It will bear tapping for many years, tho' it gets exhausted at last. This Province is like that 'ere tree, it is tapped till it begins to die at the top, and if they don't drive in a spile and stop the everlastin' flow of the sap, it will perish altogether. All the money that's made here, all the interest that's paid in it, and a pretty considerable portion of rent too, all goes abroad for investment, and the rest is sent to us to buy bread. It's drained like a bog, it has opened and covered trenches all through it, and then there's others to the foot of the upland to cut off the springs.
"Now you may make even a bog too dry; you may take the moisture out of it to that degree, that the very sile becomes dust and blows away. The English funds, and our banks, railroads, and canals, are all absorbing your capital like a sponge, and will lick it up as fast as you can make it. That very bridge we heerd of at Windsor is owned in New Brunswick, and will pay toll to that province. The capitalists of Nova Scotia treat it like a hired house, they won't keep it in repair; they neither paint it to preserve the boards, nor stop a leak to keep the frame from rottin'; but let it go to wrack sooner than drive a nail or put in a pane of glass. 'It will sarve our turn out,' they say.
"There's neither spirit, enterprise, nor patriotism here; but the whole country is as inactive as a bear in winter, that does nothin' but scroutch up in his den, a-thinkin' to himself, 'Well if I ain't an unfortunate devil, it's a pity; I have a most splendid warm coat as e'er a gentleman in these here woods, let him be who he will; but I got no socks to my feet, and I have to sit for everlastingly a-suckin' of my paws to keep 'em warm; if it warn't for that, I guess, I'd make some o' them chaps that have hoofs to their feet and horns to their heads, look about them pretty sharp, I know.' It's dismal now, ain't it? If I had the framin' of the Governor's message, if I wouldn't show 'em how to put timber together you may depend, I'd make 'em scratch their heads and stare, I know.
"I went down to Matanzas in the Fulton steamboat once; well, it was the first of the kind they ever seed, and proper scared they were to see a vessel, without sails or oars, goin' right straight ahead, nine knots an hour, in the very wind's eye, and a great streak of smoke arter her as long as the tail of a comet. I believe they thought it was Old Nick alive, a-treatin' himself to a swim. You could see the niggers a-clippin' it away from the shore, for dear life, and the soldiers a-movin' about as if they thought that we were a-goin' to take the whole country. Presently a little half-starved orange-coloured lookin' Spanish officer, all dressed off in his livery, as fine as a fiddle, came off with two men in a boat to board us. Well, we yawed once or twice, and motioned to him to keep off for fear he should get hurt; but he came right on afore the wheel, and I hope I may be shot if the paddle didn't strike the bow of the boat with that force, it knocked up the starn like a plank tilt, when one of the boys playin' on it is heavier than t'other; and chucked him right atop of the wheel-house. You never seed a feller in such a dunderment in your life. He had picked up a little English from seein' our folks there so much, and when he got up, the first thing he said was,'Damn all sheenery, I say; where's my boat?' and he looked round as if he thought it had jumped on board too. 'Your boat?' said the captain, why I expect it's gone to the bottom, and your men have gone down to look arter it, for we never seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them arter the boat was struck.' Yes, I'd make 'em stare like that 'ere Spanish officer, as if they had seed out of their eyes for the first time. Governor Campbell didn't expect to see such a country as this when he came here, I reckon; I know he didn't.
"When I was a little boy, about knee high or so, and lived down Connecticut river, mother used to say, 'Sam, if you don't give over acting so like Old Scratch, I'll send you off to Nova Scotia as sure as you are born; I will, I vow.' Well, Lord, how that 'ere used to frighten me; it made my hair stand right up an eend, like a cat's back when she is wrathy; it made me drop it as quick as wink; like a tin night cap put on a dipped candle a-goin' to bed, it put the fun right out. Neighbour Dearborne's darter married a gentleman to Yarmouth, that speculates in the smugglin' line. Well, when she went on board to sail down to Nova Scotia, all her folks took on as if it was a funeral; they said she was goin' to be buried alive like the nuns in Portengale that get a-frolickin', break out of the pastur', and race off, and get catched and brought back agin. Says the old Colonel, her father, 'Deliverance, my dear, I would sooner foller you to your grave, for that would be an eend to your troubles, than to see you go off to that dismal country, that's nothin' but an iceberg aground;' and he howled as loud as an Irishman that tries to wake his wife when she is dead. Awful accounts we have of the country, that's a fact; but if the Province is not so bad as they make it out, the folks are a thousand times worse.
"You've seen a flock of partridges of a frosty mornin' in the fall, a-crowdin' out of the shade to a sunny spot, and huddlin' up there in the warmth? Well, the Bluenoses have nothin' else to do half the time but sun themselves. Whose fault is that? Why it's the fault of the legislature; they don't encourage internal improvement, nor the investment of capital in the country; and the result is apathy, inaction and poverty. They spend three months in Halifax, and what do they do? Father gave me a dollar once, to go to the fair at Hartford, and when I came back, says he, 'Sam, what have you got to show for it?' Now I ax what have they to show for their three months' setting? They mislead folks; they make 'em believe all the use of the assembly is to bark at councillors, judges, bankers, and such cattle, to keep 'em from eatin' up the crops; and it actilly costs more to feed them when they are watchin', than all the others could eat if they did break a fence and get in. Indeed some folks say they are the most breachy of the two, and ought to go to pound themselves. If their fences are good, them hungry cattle couldn't break through; and if they ain't, they ought to stake 'em up, and with them well; but it's no use to make fences unless the land is cultivated. If I see a farm all gone to wrack, I say here's bad husbandry and bad management; and if I see a Province like this, of great capacity, and great natural resources, poverty-stricken, I say there's bad legislation.
"No," said he (with an air of more seriousness than I had yet observed), "how much it is to be regretted, that, laying aside personal attacks and petty jealousies, they would not unite as one man, and with one mind and one heart apply themselves sedulously to the internal improvement and developement of this beautiful Province. Its value is utterly unknown, either to the general or local Government, and the only persons who duly appreciate it are the Yankees."
No. XVII
A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade.
"I met a man this mornin'," said the Clockmaker, "from Halifax, a real conceited lookin' critter as you e'enamost ever seed, all shines and didoes. He looked as if he had picked up his airs arter some officer of the regilars had worn 'em out and cast 'em off. They sot on him like second-hand clothes, as if they hadn't been made for him and didn't exactly fit. He looked fine, but awkward, like a captain of militia when he gets his uniform on, to play sodger; a-thinkin' himself mighty handSUM, and that all the world is a-lookin' at him. He marched up and down afore the street door like a peacock, as large as life and twice as natural; he had a riding whip in his hand and every now and then struck it agin his thigh, as much as to say, 'Ain't that a splendid leg for a boot, now? Won't I astonish the Amherst folks, that's all?' Thinks I, 'You are a pretty blade, ain't you? I'd like to fit a Yankee handle on to you, that's a fact.' When I came up, he held up his head near about as high as a shot factory, and stood with his fists on his hips, and eyed me from head to foot, as a shakin' quaker does a town lady; as much as to say, 'What a queer critter you be, that's toggery I never seed afore; you're some carnal-minded maiden, that's sartain.'
"'Well,' says he to me, with the air of a man that chucks a cent into a beggar's hat, 'a fine day this, sir.' 'Do you actilly think so?' said I, and I gave it the real Connecticut drawl. 'Why,' said he, quite short, 'if I didn't think so, I wouldn't say so.' 'Well,' says I, 'I don't know, but if I did think so, I guess I wouldn't say so.' 'Why not?' says he. 'Because, I expect,' says I, 'any fool could see that as well as me;' and then I stared at him, as much as to say, 'Now if you like that 'ere swap, I am ready to trade with you agin as soon as you like.' Well, he turned right round on his heel and walked off, a-whistlin' Yankee Doodle to himself. He looked jist like a man that finds whistlin' a plaguy sight easier than thinkin'.
"Presently, I heard him ax the groom who that 'ere Yankee lookin' feller was. 'That?' said the groom, 'why, I guess it's Mr. Slick.' 'Sho!' said he, 'how you talk. What! Slick the Clockmaker? why it ain't possible; I wish I had a known that 'ere afore, I declare, for I have a great curiosity to see him; folks say he is an amazin' clever feller that;' and he turned and stared, as if it was old Hickory himself. Then he walked round and about like a pig round the fence of a potato field, a-watchin' for a chance to cut in; so, thinks I, I'll jist give him something to talk about, when he gets back to the city; I'll fix a Yankee handle on to him in no time.
"'How's times to Halifax, sir,' said I. 'Better,' says he, 'much better. Business is done on a surer bottom than it was, and things look bright agin.' 'So does a candle,' says I, 'jist afore it goes out; it burns up ever so high and then sinks right down, and leaves nothin' behind but grease, and an everlastin' bad smell. I guess they don't know how to feed their lamp, and it can't burn long on nothin'. No, sir, the jig is up with Halifax, and it's all their own fault. If a man sits at his door, and sees stray cattle in his field, a-eatin' up of his crop, and his neighbours, a-eatin' off his grain, and won't so much as go and drive 'em out, why I should say it sarves him right.'
"I don't exactly understand, sir,' said he. Thinks I, it would be strange if you did, for I never see one of your folks yet that could understand a hawk from a handsaw. 'Well,' says I, 'I will tell you what I mean: draw a line from Cape Sable to Cape Cansoo, right through the Province, and it will split it into two, this way;' and I cut an apple into two halves; 'now,' says I, 'the worst half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St. John. Your side of the province on the sea coast is all stone; I never seed such a proper sight of rocks in my life; it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, t'other side on the Bay of Fundy, is a superfine country; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere. Now, wouldn't the folks living away up to the Bay, be pretty fools to go to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the trouble. St. John is the natural capital of the Bay of Fundy; it will be the largest city in America next to New York. It has an immense back country as big as Great Britain, a first chop river, and amazin' sharp folks, most as cute as the Yankees; it's a splendid location for business. Well, they draw all the produce of the Bay shores, and where the produce goes the supplies return; they will take the whole trade of the Province. I guess your rich folks will find they've burnt their fingers; they've put their foot in it, that's a fact. Houses without tenants, wharves without shipping, a town without people—what a grand investment! If you have any loose dollars, let 'em out on mortgage in Halifax, that's a security; keep clear of the country for your life; the people may run, but the town can't. No, take away the troops, and you're done; you'll sing the dead march folks did at Louisburg and Shelburne. Why you hain't got a single thing worth havin', but a good harbour, and as for that the coast is full of 'em. You havn't a pine log, a spruce board or a refuse shingle; you neither raise wheat, oats, or hay, nor never can; you have no staples on airth, unless it be them iron ones for the padlocks in Bridewell. You've sowed pride and reaped poverty; take care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin'. You have no river and no country, what in the name of fortin' have you to trade on?
"'But,' said he (and he showed the whites of his eyes like a wall-eyed horse), 'but,' said he, 'Mr. Slick, how is it then, Halifax ever grew at all! Hasn't it got what it always had? It's no worse than it was.' 'I guess,' said I, 'that pole ain't strong enough to bear you, neither; if you trust to that, you'll be into the brook, as sure as you are born; you once had the trade of the whole Province, but St. John has run off with that now; you've lost all but your trade in blueberries and rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost your customers; your rivals have a better stand for business—they've got the corner store; four great streets meet there, and it's near the market slip.'
"Well, he stared; says he, 'I believe you're right, but I never thought of that afore.' Thinks I, nobody'd ever suspect you of the trick of thinkin' that ever I heerd tell of. 'Some of our great men,' said he, 'laid it all to your folks' selling so many clocks and Polyglot Bibles; they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money.' 'Did they, indeed?' said I; 'well, I guess it ain't pins and needles that's the expense of house-keepin', it is something more costly than that.' 'Well, some folks say it's the banks,' says he. 'Better still,' says I; 'perhaps you've hearn tell, too, that greasin' the axle, makes a gig harder to draw, for there's jist about as much sense in that.' 'Well then,' says he, 'others say it's smugglin' has made us so poor.' 'That guess,' said I, 'is most as good as t'other one; whoever found out that secret ought to get a patent for it, for it's worth knowin'. Then the country has grown poorer, hasn't it, because it has bought cheaper this year, than it did the year before? Why, your folks are cute chaps, I vow; they'd puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer, they are so amazin' knowin'.' 'Ah,' said he, and he rubb'd his hands and smiled, like a young doctor, when he gets his first patient; 'ah,' said he, 'if the timber duties are altered, down comes St. John, body and breeches; it's built on a poor foundation—it's all show; they are speculatin' like mad; they'll ruin themselves.' Says I, 'if you wait till they're dead for your fortin', it will be one while, I tell you, afore you pocket the shiners. It's no joke waitin' for a dead man's shoes. Suppose an old feller of eighty was to say, "When that 'ere young feller dies, I'm to inherit his property," what would you think? Why, I guess you'd think he was an old fool. No sir, if the English don't want their timber we do want it all; we have used our'n up, we hain't got a stick even to whittle. If the British don't offer we will, and St. John, like a dear little weepin' widow, will dry up her tears, and take to frolickin' agin and accept it right off.
"'There isn't at this moment such a location hardly in America, as St. John; for beside all its other advantages, it has this great one: its only rival, Halifax, has got a dose of opium that will send it snoring out of the world, like a feller who falls asleep on the ice of a winter's night. It has been asleep so long, I actilly think it never will wake. It's an easy death too; you may rouse them up if you like, but I vow I won't. I once brought a feller to that was drowned, and one night he got drunk and quilted me; I couldn't walk for a week. Says I, "You're the last chap I'll ever save from drowning in all my born days, if that's all the thanks I get for it." No sir, Halifax has lost the run of its custom. Who does Yarmouth trade with? St. John. Who does Annapolis County trade with? St. John. Who do all the folks on the Basin of Mines, and Bay shore, trade with? St. John. Who does Cumberland trade with? St. John. Well Pictou, Lunenburg and Liverpool, supply themselves, and the rest that ain't worth havin', trade with Halifax. They take down a few half-starved pigs, old viteran geese, and long legged fowls, some ram mutton and tough beef; and swap them for tea, sugar, and such little notions for their old women to home; while the railroads and canals of St. John are goin' to cut off your Gulf Shore trade to Miramichi, and along there. Flies live in the summer and die in winter, you're jist as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing small in peace.
"'No, you're done for; you are up a tree, you may depend; pride must fall. Your town is like a ballroom arter a dance. The folks there eat, drank, and frolicked, and left an empty house; the lamps and hangings are left, but the people are gone.'
"'Is there no remedy for this?' said he; and he looked as wild as a Cherokee Indian. Thinks I, the handle is fitted on proper tight now. 'Well,' says I, 'when a man has a cold, he had ought to look out pretty sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs; if he don't, he gets into a gallopin' consumption, and it's gone goose with him. There is a remedy, if applied in time: make a railroad to the Minas Basin, and you have a way for your customers to get to you, and a conveyance for your goods to them. When I was in New York last, a cousin of mine, Hezekiah Slick, said to me, "I do believe Sam, I shall be ruined; I've lost all my custom; they are widening and improving the streets, and there's so many carts and people to work in it, folks can't come to my shop to trade; what on airth shall I do? and I'm payin' a dreadful high rent too?" "Stop Ki," says I, "when the street is all finished off and slicked up, they'll all come back agin, and a whole raft more on 'em too, you'll sell twice as much as ever you did; you'll put off a proper swad of goods next year, you may depend;" and so he did, he made money, hand over hand. A railroad will bring back your customers, if done right off; but wait till trade has made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and you'll never divart it agin to all etarnity. When a feller waits till a gal gets married, I guess it will be too late to pop the question then.
"'St. John MUST go ahead, at any rate; you MAY, if you choose, but you must exert yourselves, I tell you. If a man has only one leg, and wants to walk, he must get an artificial one. If you have no river, make a railroad, and that will supply its place.'
"'But,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, people say it never will pay in the world; they say it's as mad a scheme as the canal. 'Do they indeed?' says I; 'send them to me then, and I'll fit the handle on to them in tu tu's. I say it will pay, and the best proof is, our folks will take tu thirds of the stock. Did you ever hear any one else but your folks, ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it was given to save life? If that everlastin' long Erie canal can secure to New York the supply of that far off country, most t'other side of creation, surely a railroad of forty-five miles can give you the trade of the Bay of Fundy. A railroad will go from Halifax to Windsor, and make them one town, easier to send goods from one to t'other than from Governor Campbell's House to Admiral Cockburn's. A bridge makes a town, a river makes a town, a canal makes a town; but a railroad is bridge, river, thoroughfare, canal, all in one; what a whappin' large place that would make, wouldn't it? It would be the dandy, that's a fact. No, when you go back, take a piece of chalk, and the first dark night, write on every door in Halifax, in large letters—a railroad—and if they don't know the meanin' of it, says you "It's a Yankee word; if you'll go to Sam Slick, the Clockmaker" (the chap that fixed a Yankee handle on to a Halifax blade'—and I made him a scrape of my leg, as much as to say, That's you!) '"every man that buys a clock shall hear all about a railroad."'"
No. XVIII
The Grahamite and the Irish Pilot.
"I think," said I, "this is a happy country, Mr. Slick. The people are fortunately all of one origin; there are no national jealousies to divide, and no very violent politics to agitate them. They appear to be cheerful and contented, and are a civil, good-natured, hospitable race. Considering the unsettled state of almost every part of the world, I think I would as soon cast my lot in Nova Scotia as in any part I know of."
"It's a clever country, you may depend," said he, "a very clever country; full of mineral wealth, aboundin' in superior water privileges and noble harbours, a large part of it prime land, and it is in the very heart of the fisheries. But the folks put me in mind of a sect in our country they call the Grahamites; they eat no meat and no exciting food, and drink nothin' stronger than water. They call it Philosophy (and that is such a pretty word it has made fools of more folks than them afore now), but I call it tarnation nonsense. I once travelled all through the State of Maine with one of them 'ere chaps. He was as thin as a whippin' post. His skin looked like a blown bladder arter some of the air had leaked out, kinder wrinkled and rumpled like, and his eye as dim as a lamp that's livin' on a short allowance of ile. He put me in mind of a pair of kitchen tongs, all legs, shaft and head, and no belly; a real gander-gutted lookin' critter, as holler as a bamboo walkin' cane, and twice as yaller. He actilly looked as if he had been picked off a rack at sea, and dragged through a gimlet hole. He was a lawyer. Thinks I, the Lord a massy on your clients, you hungry, half-starved lookin' critter you, you'll eat 'em up alive as sure as the Lord made Moses. You are jist the chap to strain at a goat and swallow a camel, tank, shank and flank, all at a gulp.
"Well, when we came to an inn, and a beef steak was sot afore us for dinner, he'd say, 'Oh that is too good for me, it's too exciting; all fat meat is diseased meat, give me some bread and cheese.' 'Well,' I'd say, 'I don't know what you call too good, but it ain't good enough for me, for I call it as tuf as laushong, and that will bear chawing all day. When I liquidate for my dinner, I like to get about the best that's goin', and I ain't a bit too well pleased if I don't.' Exciting indeed! thinks I. Lord, I should like to see you excited, if it was only for the fun of the thing. What a temptin' lookin' critter you'd be among the gals, wouldn't you? Why, you look like a subject the doctor boys had dropped on the road arter they had dug you up, and had cut stick and run for it.
"Well, when tea came, he said the same thing, 'It's too exciting, give me some water, do; that's follorin' the law of natur'.' 'Well,' says I, 'if that's the case, you ought to eat beef.' 'Why,' says he, 'how do you make out that 'ere proposition?' 'Why,' says I, 'if drinkin' water instead of tea is natur', so is eatin' grass accordin' to natur'; now all flesh is grass, we are told, so you had better eat that and call it vegetable; like a man I once seed who fasted on fish on a Friday, and when he had none, whipped a leg o' mutton into the oven, and took it out fish. Says he, "It's 'changed PLAICE,' that's all," and "PLAICE" ain't a bad fish. The Catholics fast enough, gracious knows, but then they fast on a great rousin' big splendid salmon at two dollars and forty cents a pound, and lots of old Madeira to make it float light on the stomach; there's some sense in mortifying the appetite arter that fashion, but plagy little in your way. No,' says I, 'friend, you may talk about natur' as you please; I've studied natur' all my life, and I vow if your natur' could speak out, it would tell you, it don't over half like to be starved arter that plan. If you know'd as much about the marks of the mouth as I do, you'd know that you have carniverous as well as graniverous teeth, and that natur' meant by that, you should eat most anything that 'ere door-keeper, your nose, would give a ticket to, to pass into your mouth. Father rode a race at New York course, when he was near hand to seventy—and that's more nor you'll do, I guess—and he eats as hearty as a turkey-cock; and he never confined himself to water neither, when he could get anything convened him better. Says he, "Sam, grandfather Slick used to say there was an old proverb in Yorkshire, 'A full belly makes a strong back,' and I guess if you try it, natur' will tell you so too." If ever you go to Connecticut, jist call into father's, and he'll give you a real right down genuine New England breakfast, and if that don't happify your heart, then my name's not Sam Slick. It will make you feel about among the stiffest, I tell you. It will blow your jacket out like a pig at sea. You'll have to shake a reef or two out of your waistban's and make good stowage, I guess, to carry it all under hatches. There's nothin' like a good pastur' to cover the ribs, and make the hide shine, depend on't.'
"Now this Province is like that 'ere Grahamite lawyer's beef, it's too good for the folks that's in it; they either don't avail its value or won't use it, because work ain't arter their 'law of natur'.' As you say they are quiet enough (there's worse folks than the Bluenoses, too, if you come to that), and so they had ought to be quiet, for they have nothin' to fight about. As for politics, they have nothin' to desarve the name; but they talk enough about it, and a plaguy sight of nonsense they do talk, too.
"Now with us the country is divided into two parties, of the mammouth breed—the INS and the OUTS, the ADMINISTRATION and the OPPOSITION. But where's the administration here? Where's the war office, the Foreign Office and the Home Office? Where's the Secretary of the Navy? Where's the State Bank? Where's the Ambassadors and Diplomatists (them are the boys to wind off a snarl of ravellins as slick as if it were on a reel), and where's that Ship of State, fitted up all the way from the forecastle clean up to the starn-post, chock full of good snug berths, handsumly found and furnished, tier over tier, one above another, as thick as it can hold? That's a helm worth handlin', I tell you; I don't wonder that folks mutiny below, and fight on the decks above for it; it makes a plaguy uproar the whole time, and keeps the passengers for everlastinly in a state of alarm for fear they'd do mischif by bustin' the b'iler, a-runnin' aground, or gettin' foul of some other craft.
"This Province is better as it is, quieter and happier far; they have berths enough and big enough; they should be careful not to increase 'em; and if they were to do it over agin, perhaps they'd be as well with fewer. They have two parties here, the Tory party and the Opposition party, and both on 'em run to extremes. Them radicals, says one, are for levellin' all down to their own level, tho' not a peg lower; that's their gage, jist down to their own notch and no further; and they'd agitate the whole country to obtain that object, for if a man can't grow to be as tall as his neighbour, if he cuts a few inches off him why then they are both of one heighth. They are a most dangerous, disaffected people; they are eternally appealin' to the worst passions of the mob. Well, says t'other, them aristocrats, they'll ruinate the country; they spend the whole revenue on themselves. What with bankers, councillors, judges, bishops and public officers, and a whole tribe of lawyers as hungry as hawks, and jist about as marciful, the country is devoured as if there was a flock of locusts a-feedin' on it. There's nothin' left for roads and bridges. When a chap sets out to canvass, he's got to antagonize one side or t'other. If he hangs on to the powers that be, then he's a council man, he's for votin' large salaries, for doin' as the great people at Halifax tell him. He is a fool. If he is on t'other side, a-railin' at banks, judges, lawyers and such cattle, and bawlin' for what he knows he can't get, then he is a rogue. So that, if you were to listen to the weak and noisy critters on both sides, you'd believe the House of Assembly was one half rogues and t'other half fools. All this arises from ignorance. IF THEY KNEW MORE OF EACH OTHER, I GUESS THEY'D LAY ASIDE ONE HALF THEIR FEARS AND ALL THEIR ABUSE. THE UPPER CLASSES DON'T KNOW ONE HALF THE VIRTUE THAT'S IN THE MIDDLIN' AND LOWER CLASSES; AND THEY DON'T KNOW ONE HALF THE INTEGRITY AND GOOD FEELIN' THAT'S IN THE OTHERS, AND BOTH ARE FOOLED AND GULLED BY THEIR OWN NOISY AND DESIGNIN' CHAMPIONS. Take any two men that are by the ears, they opinionate all they hear of each other, impute all sorts of onworthy motives, and misconstrue every act; let them see more of each other, and they'll find out to their surprise, that they have not only been lookin' through a magnifyin' glass that warn't very true, but a coloured one also, that changed the complexion and distorted the feature, and each one will think t'other a very good kind of chap, and like as not a plaguy pleasant one too.
"If I was axed which side was farthest from the mark in this Province, I vow I should be puzzled to say. As I don't belong to the country, and don't care a snap of my finger for either of 'em, I suppose I can judge better than any man in it, but I snore I don't think there's much difference. The popular side—I won't say patriotic, for we find in our steamboats a man who has a plaguy sight of property in his portmanter, is quite as anxious for its safety, as him that's only one pair of yarn stockings and a clean shirt, is for his'n—the popular side are not so well informed as t'other, and they have the misfortin' of havin' their passions addressed more than their reason, therefore they are often out of the way, or rather led out of it and put astray by bad guides; well, t'other side have the prejudices of birth and education to dim their vision, and are alarmed to undertake a thing from the dread of ambush or open foes, that their guides are etarnally descryin' in the mist—AND BESIDE, POWER HAS A NATERAL TENDENCY TO CORPULENCY. As for them guides, I'd make short work of 'em if it was me.
"In the last war with Britain, the Constitution frigate was close in once on the shores of Ireland, a-lookin' arter some marchant ships, and she took on board a pilot; well, he was a deep, sly, twistical lookin' chap, as you e'enamost ever seed. He had a sort of dark, down look about him, and a lear out of the corner of one eye, like a horse that's goin' to kick. The captain guessed he read in his face, 'Well now, if I was to run this here Yankee right slap on a rock and bilge her, the King would make a man of me for ever.' So, says he to the first leftenant, 'Reeve a rope through that 'ere block at the tip eend of the fore yard, and clap a runnin' noose in it.' The leftenant did it as quick as wink, and came back, and says he, 'I guess it's done.' 'Now,' says the captain, 'look here, pilot; here's a rope you hain't seed yet, I'll jist explain the use of it to you in case you want the loan of it. If this here frigate, manned with our free and enlightened citizens, gets aground, I'll give you a ride on the slack of that 'ere rope, right up to that yard by the neck, by Gum.' Well, it rub'd all the writin' out of his face, as quick as spittin' on a slate takes a sum out, you may depend. Now, they should rig up a crane over the street door of the State house at Halifax, and when any of the pilots at either eend of the buildin', run 'em on the breakers on purpose, string 'em up like an onsafe dog. A sign of that 'ere kind, with 'A house of public entertainment,' painted under it, would do the business in less than no time. If it wouldn't keep the hawks out of the poultry yard, it's a pity; it would scare them out of a year's growth, that's a fact; if they used it once, I guess they wouldn't have occasion for it agin in a hurry; it would be like the aloe tree, and that bears fruit only once in a hundred years.
"If you want to know how to act any time, Squire, never go to books, leave them to gals and school boys; but go right off and cipher it out of natur', that's a sure guide; it will never deceive you, you may depend. For instance, 'what's that to me,' is a phrase so common that it shows it's a natural one, when people have no particular interest in a thing. Well, when a feller gets so warm on either side as never to use that phrase at all, watch him, that's all! keep your eye on him, or he'll walk right into you afore you know where you be. If a man runs to me and says, 'Your fence is down,' 'Thank you,' says I, 'that's kind.' If he comes agin and says, 'I guess some stray cattle have broke into your short sarce garden,' I thank him agin; says I, 'Come now, this is neighbourly; but when he keeps etarnally tellin' me this thing of one sarvant, and that thing of another sarvant, hints that my friends ain't true, that my neighbours are inclined to take advantage of me, and that suspicious folks are seen about my place, I say to myself, what on airth makes this critter take such a wonderful interest in my affairs? I don't like to hear such tales; he's arter somethin' as sure as the world, if he warn't he'd say, 'What's that to me.' I never believe much what I hear said by a man's violent friend, or violent enemy. I want to hear what a disinterested man has to say. Now, as a disinterested man, I say if the members of the House of Assembly, instead of raisin' up ghosts and hobgoblins to frighten folks with, and to show what swordsmen they be, a-cuttin' and a-thrustin' at those phantoms that only exist in their own brains, would turn to, heart and hand, and develop the resources of this fine country, facilitate the means of transport, promote its internal improvement, and encourage its foreign trade, they would make it the richest and greatest, as it now is one of the happiest sections of all America. I hope I may be skinned if they wouldn't—they would I swan."
No. XIX
The Clockmaker Quilts a Bluenose.
The descendants of Eve have profited little by her example. The curiosity of the fair sex is still insatiable, and, as it is often ill directed, it frequently terminates in error. In the country this feminine propensity is troublesome to a traveller, and he who would avoid importunities would do well to announce at once, on his arrival at a Cumberland inn, his name and his business, the place of his abode and the length of his visit.
Our beautiful hostess, Mrs. Pugwash, as she took her seat at the breakfast table this morning, exhibited the example that suggested these reflections. She was struck with horror at our conversation, the latter part only of which she heard, and of course misapplied and misunderstood.
"She was run down by the President," said I, "and has been laid up for some time. Gulard's people have stripped her, in consequence of her making water so fast."
"Stripped whom?" said Mrs. Pugwash, as she suddenly dropped the teapot from her hand; "stripped whom—for heaven's sake tell me who it is?"
"The Lady Ogle," said I.
"Lady Ogle?" said she, "how horrid!"
"Two of her ribs were so broken as to require to be replaced with new ones."
"Two new ribs!" said she, "well I never heerd the beat of that in all my born days; poor critter, how she must have suffered."
"On examining her below the waist they found—"
"Examining her still lower," said she (all the pride of her sex revolting at the idea of such an indecent exhibition), "you don't pretend to say they stripped her below the waist! What did the Admiral say? Did he stand by and see her handled in that way?"
"The Admiral, madam," said I, "did not trouble his head about it.They found her extremely unsound there, and much worm-eaten."
"Worm-eaten," she continued, "how awful! It must have been them nasty jiggers, that got in there; they tell me they are dreadful thick in the West Indies; Joe Crow had them in his feet, and lost two of his toes. Worm-eaten, dear, dear! but still that ain't so bad as having them great he-fellows strip one. I promise you if them Gulards had undertaken to strip me, I'd a taught them different guess manners; I'd a died first before I'd a submitted to it. I always heerd tell the English quality ladies were awful bold, but I never heerd the like o' that."
"What on airth are you drivin' at?" said Mr. Slick. "I never seed you so much out in your latitude afore, marm, I vow. We were talkin' of reparin' a vessel, not strippin' a woman; what under the sun could have put that 'ere crotchet into your head?"
She looked mortified and humbled at the result of her own absurd curiosity, and soon quitted the room. "I thought I should have snorted right out two or three times," said the Clockmaker; "I had to pucker up my mouth like the upper eend of a silk puss, to keep from yawhawin' in her face, to hear the critter let her clapper run that fashion. She is not the first hand that has caught a lobster, by puttin' in her oar afore her turn, I guess. She'll mind her steps next hitch, I reckon." This was our last breakfast at Amherst.
An early frost that smote the potato fields, and changed the beautiful green colour of the Indian corn into shades of light yellow, and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autumn, of the season of short days and bad roads. I determined to proceed at once to Parrsboro', and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and to return by the shore road, through Liverpool and Lunenburg to Halifax. I therefore took leave (though not without much reluctance) of the Clockmaker, whose intention had been to go to Fort Lawrence.
"Well," said he, "I vow I am sorry to part company along with you; a considerable long journey like our'n, is like sitting up late with the gals, a body knows it's getting on pretty well towards mornin', and yet feels loth to go to bed, for it's just the time folks grow sociable. I got a scheme in my head," said he, "that I think will answer both on us; I got debts due to me in all them 'ere places for clocks sold by the consarn; now suppose you leave your horse on these mashes this fall; he'll get as fat as a fool, he won't be able to see out of his eyes in a month; and I'll put 'Old Clay' (I call him Clay arter our senator, who is a prime bit of stuff) into a Yankee wagon I have here, and drive you all round the coast."
This was too good an offer to be declined. A run at grass for my horse, an easy and comfortable wagon, and a guide so original and amusing as Mr. Slick, were either of them enough to induce my acquiescence.
As soon as we had taken our seats in the wagon, he observed—
"We shall progress real handsum now; that 'ere horse goes etarnal fast, he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's a spanker you may depend. I had him when he was a two-year-old, all legs and tail, like a devil's darnin' needle, and had him broke on purpose by father's old nigger, January Snow. He knows English real well, and can do near about anything but speak it. He helped me once to gin a Bluenose a proper handsum quiltin'."
"He must have stood a poor chance indeed," said I, "a horse kickin', and a man striking him at the same time."
"Oh! not arter that pattern at all," said he, "Lord if Old Clay had kicked him, he'd a smashed him like that 'ere sarcer you broke at Pugnose's inn, into ten hundred thousand million flinders. Oh! no, if I didn't fix his flint for him in fair play, it's a pity. I'll tell you how it was. I was up to Truro, at Ezra Whitter's inn. There was an arbitration there atween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well, there was a 'nation sight of folks there, for they said it was a biter bit, and they came to witness the sport, and to see which critter would get the earmark.
"Well, I'd been doin' a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for the river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin' a glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin' off pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you e'enamost ever seed, when he is about half-shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says I, "Mr. Bradley, I hope you bean't hurt; I'm proper sorry I run agin you, you can't feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.' He called me a Yankee peddler, a cheatin' vagabond, a wooden nutmeg, and threw a good deal of assorted hardware of that kind at me; and the crowd of folks cried out, 'Down with the Yankee!' 'Let him have it Tim!' 'Teach him better manners!' and they carried on pretty high, I tell you. Well, I got my dander up too, I felt all up on eend like; and, thinks I to myself, My lad if I get a clever chance, I'll give you such a quiltin' as you never had since you were raised from a seedlin', I vow. So says I, 'Mr. Bradley, I guess you had better let me be; you know I can't fight no more than a cow; I never was brought up to wranglin', and I don't like it.' 'Haul off the cowardly rascal,' they all bawled out, 'haul him off, and lay it into him!' So he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull, and I lets on as if I'd lost my balance and falls right down. Then I jumps up on eend, and says I 'Go ahead Clay,' and the old horse he sets off a head, so I knew I had him when I wanted him. Then says I, 'I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Bradley, with that 'ere ungenteel fall you gin me.' Well, he makes a blow at me, and I dodged it. 'Now,' says I, 'you'll be sorry for this, I tell you; I won't be treated this way for nothin', I'll go right off and swear my life agin you, I'm most afeerd you'll murder me.' Well, he strikes at me agin, thinkin' he had a genuine soft horn to deal with, and hits me in the shoulder. 'Now,' says I, I won't stand here to be lathered like a dog all day long this fashion, it ain't pretty at all; I guess I'll give you a chase for it.' Off I sets arter my horse like mad, and he arter me (I did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I might have fair play at him). Well, I soon found I had the heels of him, and could play him as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close up to me, so as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squatted right whap down, all short, and he pitched over me near about a rod or so, I guess, on his head, and ploughed up the ground with his nose, the matter of a foot or two. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both mould boards of his face, it's a pity. 'Now,' says I, 'you had better lay where you be and let me go, for I am proper tired; I blow like a horse that's got the heaves; and besides,' says I, 'I guess you had better wash your face, for I am most a feared you hurt yourself.' That riled him properly; I meant that it should; so he ups and at me awful spiteful like a bull; then I lets him have it, right, left, right, jist three corkers, beginning with the right hand, shifting to the left, and then with the right hand agin. This way I did it," said the Clockmaker (and he showed me the manner in which it was done); "it's a beautiful way of hitting, and always does the business—a blow for each eye and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten pounds ten on a blacksmith's anvil; I bunged up both eyes for him, and put in the dead lights in two tu's, and drew three of his teeth, quicker a plaguy sight than the Truro doctor could, to save his soul alive. 'Now,' says I, 'my friend, when you recover your eye-sight I guess you'll see your mistake—I warn't born in the woods to be scared by an owl. The next time you feel in a most particular elegant good humour, come to me and I'll play you the second part of that identical same tune, that's a fact.
"With that, I whistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I mounted and off, jist as the crowd came up. The folks looked staggered, and wondered a little grain how it was done so cleverly in short metre. If I didn't quilt him in no time, you may depend; I went right slap into him, like a flash of lightning into a gooseberry bush. He found his suit ready made and fitted afore he thought he was half measured. Thinks I, friend Bradley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow no livin' soul would; your swallowed your soup without singin' out scaldin's, and your near about a pint and a half nearer cryin' than larfin'.
"Yes, as I was sayin', this Old Clay is a real knowin' one; he's as spry as a colt yet, clear grit, ginger to the backbone; I can't help a-thinkin' sometimes the breed must have come from old Kentuck, half horse, half alligator, with a cross of the airth-quake.
"I hope I may be teetotally ruinated, if I'd take eight hundred dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker built villain," said he, "and show the gentleman how wonderful handSUM you can travel. Give him the real Connecticut quick step. That's it! that's the way to carry the President's message to Congress, from Washington to New York, in no time! that's the go to carry a gal from Boston to Rhode Island, and trice her up to a Justice to be married, afore her father's out of bed of a summer's mornin'. Ain't he a beauty? a real doll? none of your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them, the more they won't go; but a proper one, that will go free gratis for nothin', all out of his own head voluntERRILY. Yes, a horse like Old Clay, is worth the whole seed, breed and generation, of them Amherst beasts put together. He's a horse, every inch of him, stock, lock, and barrel, is Old Clay."
No. XX
Sister Sall's Courtship.
"There goes one of them 'ere everlastin' rottin' poles in that bridge; they are no better than a trap for a critter's leg," said the Clockmaker. "They remind me of a trap Jim Munroe put his foot in one night, that near about made one leg half a yard longer than t'other. I believe I told you of him, what a desperate idle feller he was; he came from Onion County in Connecticut. Well, he was courtin' Sister Sall. She was a real handsum lookin' gal; you scarce ever seed a more out and out complete critter than she was—a fine figur' head, and a beautiful model of a craft as any in the state, a real clipper, and as full of fun and frolic as a kitten. Well he fairly turned Sall's head; the more we wanted her to give him up the more she wouldn't, and we got plaguy oneasy about it, for his character was none of the best. He was a univarsal favourite among the gals, and tho' he didn't behave very pretty neither, forgetting to marry where he promised, and where he hadn't ought to have forgot too; yet, so it was, he had such an uncommon winnin' way with him, he could talk them over in no time. Sall was fairly bewitched.
"At last, Father said to him one evening when he came a-courtin', 'Jim,' says he, 'you'll never come to no good, if you act like Old Scratch as you do; you ain't fit to come into no decent man's house at all, and your absence would be ten times more agreeable than your company, I tell you. I won't consent to Sall's goin' to them 'ere huskin' parties and quiltin' frolics along with you no more, on no account, for you know how Polly Brown and Nancy White—' 'Now don't,' says he, 'now don't, Uncle Sam, say no more about that; if you knowed all you wouldn't say it was my fault; and besides, I have turned right about, I am on t'other tack now, and the long leg, too; I am as steady as a pump bolt now. I intend to settle myself and take a farm.' 'Yes yes, and you could stock it too, by all accounts, pretty well, unless you are much misreported,' says father, 'but it won't do. I knew your father; he was our Sargeant; a proper clever and brave man he was too; he was one of the heroes of our glorious revolution. I had a great respect for him, and I am sorry for his sake you will act as you do; but I tell you once for all you must give up all thoughts of Sall, now and for everlastin'.' When Sall heerd this, she began to knit away like mad in a desperate hurry; she looked foolish enough, that's a fact. First she tried to bite in her breath, and look as if there was nothin' particular in the wind, then she blushed all over like scarlet fever, but she recovered that pretty soon; and then her colour went and came, and came and went, till at last she grew as white as chalk, and down she fell slap off her seat on the floor, in a faintin' fit. 'I see,' says father, 'I see it now, you etarnal villain,' and he made a pull at the old fashioned sword, that always hung over the fireplace (we used to call it old Bunker, for his stories always begun, 'when I was at Bunker's hill'), and drawing it out, he made a clip at him as wicked as if he was stabbing at a rat with a hay fork; but Jim, he outs of the door like a shot, and draws it too arter him, and father sends old Bunker right through the panel. 'I'll chop you up as fine as mince meat, you villain,' said he, 'if ever I catch you inside my door agin; mind what I tell you, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET.' Well, he made himself considerable scarce arter that, he never sot foot inside the door agin, and I thought he had gin up all hopes of Sall, and she of him; when one night, a most particular uncommon dark night, as I was a-comin' home from neighbour Dearborne's, I heerd some one a-talkin' under Sall's window. Well, I stops and listens, and who should it be near the ash saplin', but Jim Munroe, a-tryin' to persuade Sall to run off with him to Rhode Island to be married. It was all settled, he should come with a horse and shay to the gate, and then help her out of the window, jist at nine o'clock, about the time she commonly went to bed. Then he axes her to reach down her hand for him to kiss (for he was proper clever at soft sawder), and she stretches it down and he kisses it; and, says he, 'I believe I must have the whole of you out arter all,' and gives her a jirk that kinder startled her; it came so sudden like it made her scream; so off he sot, hot foot, and over the gate in no time.
"Well, I ciphered over this all night, a-calculatin' how I should reciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I recollected father's words at partin', 'MIND WHAT I TELL YOU, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET;' and thinks I, friend Jim, I'll make that prophecy come true yet, I guess. So the next night, jist at dark, I gives January Snow, the old nigger, a nidge with my elbow, and as soon as he looks up, I winks and walks out and he arter me. Says I, 'January can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger you?' 'Why massa, why you ax that 'ere question? My Gor A'mity, you tink old Snow he don't know dat 'ere yet? My tongue he got plenty room now, debil a tooth left; he can stretch out ever so far; like a little leg in a big bed, he lay quiet enough, Massa, neber fear.' 'Well, then,' says I, 'bend down that 'ere ash saplin' softly, you old Snowball, and make no noise. The saplin' was no sooner bent than secured to the ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slip-knot was suspended from the tree, jist over the track that led from the pathway to the house. 'Why, my Gor, massa, that's a—' 'Hold your mug, you old nigger,' says I, 'or I'll send your tongue a-sarchin' arter your teeth; keep quiet, and follow me in presently.'
"Well, jist as it struck nine o'clock, says I, 'Sally, hold this here hank of twine for a minute, till I wind a trifle on it off; that's a dear critter.' She sot down her candle, and I put the twine on her hands, and then I begins to wind and wind away ever so slow, and drops the ball every now and then, so as to keep her downstairs. 'Sam,' says she, 'I do believe you won't wind that 'ere twine off all night, do give it to January; I won't stay no longer, I'm e'enamost dead asleep.' 'The old feller's arm is so plaguy onsteady,' says I, 'it won't do; but hark, what's that, I'm sure I heerd something in the ash saplin', didn't you Sall?' 'I heerd the geese there, that's all,' says she, 'they always come under the windows at night;' but she looked scared enough, and says she, 'I vow I'm tired a holdin' out of my arms this way, and I won't do it no longer;' and down she throw'd the hank on the floor. 'Well,' says I, 'stop one minute, dear, till I send old January out to see if anybody is there; perhaps some o' neighbour Dearborne's cattle have broke into the sarce garden. January went out, though Sall say'd it was no use, for she knew the noise of the geese, they always kept close to the house at night, for fear of the varmin. Presently in runs old Snow, with his hair standin' up an eend, and the whites of his eyes lookin' as big as the rims of a soup plate. 'Oh! Gor A'mity,' said he, 'oh massa, oh Miss Sally, oh!' 'What on airth is the matter with you?' said Sally; 'how you do frighten me; I vow I believe you'r mad.' 'Oh my Gor,' said he, 'oh! massa Jim Munroe he hang himself, on the ash saplin' under Miss Sally's window—oh my Gor!' That shot was a settler, it struck poor Sall right atwixt wind and water; she gave a lurch ahead, then healed over and sunk right down in another faintin' fit; and Juno, old Snow's wife, carried her off and laid her down on the bed. Poor thing, she felt ugly enough, I do suppose.
"Well, father, I thought he'd a-fainted too, he was so struck up all of a heap, he was completely bung fungered. 'Dear, dear,' said he, 'I didn't think it would come to pass so soon, but I knew it would come; I foretold it; says I, the last time I seed him, "Jim," says I, "mind what I say, YOU'LL SWING FOR IT YET." Give me the sword I wore when I was at Bunker's hill—maybe there is life yet—I'll cut him down.' The lantern was soon made ready, and out we went to the ash saplin'. 'Cut me down, Sam, that's a good fellow,' said Jim, 'all the blood in my body has swashed into my head, and's a-runnin' out o' my nose, I'm e'enamost smothered, be quick for heaven's sake.' 'The Lord be praised,' said father, 'the poor sinner is not quite dead yet. Why, as I'm alive—well if that don't beat all natur'! Why he has hanged himself by one leg, and's a-swingin' like a rabbit upside down, that's a fact. Why, if he ain't snared, Sam; he is properly wired I declare—I vow this is some o' your doin's, Sam—well it was a clever scheme too, but a little grain too dangerous, I guess.' 'Don't stand staring and jawin' there all night,' said Jim, 'cut me down, I tell you—or cut my throat and be damned to you, for I am chokin' with blood.' 'Roll over that 'ere hogshead, old Snow,' said I, 'till I get atop on it and cut him down.' So I soon released him, but he couldn't walk a bit. His ankle was swelled and sprained like vengeance, and he swore one leg was near about six inches longer than t'other. 'Jim Munroe,' says father, 'little did I think I should ever see you inside my door agin, but I bid you enter now, we owe you that kindness, anyhow.'
"Well, to make a long story short, Jim was so chop-fallen, and so down in the mouth, he begged for heaven's sake it might be kept a secret; he said he would run the state, if ever it got wind, he was sure he couldn't stand it. 'It will be one while, I guess,' said father, 'afore you are able to run or stand either; but if you will give me your hand, Jim, and promise to give over your evil ways, I will not only keep it secret, but you shall be a welcome guest at old Sam Slick's once more, for the sake of your father. He was a brave man, one of the heroes of Bunker's hill; he was our Sergeant and—' 'He promises,' says I, 'father' (for the old man had stuck his right foot out, the way he always stood when he told about the old war; and as Jim couldn't stir a peg, it was a grand chance, and he was a-goin' to give him the whole revolution from General Gage up to Independence), 'he promises,' says I, 'father.' Well it was all settled, and things soon grew as calm as a pan of milk two days old; and afore a year was over, Jim was as steady a-goin' man as Minister Joshua Hopewell, and was married to our Sall. Nothin' was ever said about the snare till arter the weddin'. When the Minister had finished axin' a blessin', father goes up to Jim, and says he, 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' givin' him a rousin' slap on the shoulder that sot him a-coughin' for the matter of five minutes (for he was a mortal powerful man, was father), 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' says he, 'you've got the snare round your neck, I guess now, instead of your leg; the saplin' has been a father to you, may you be the father of many saplin's.'
"We had a most special time of it, you may depend, all except the minister; father got him into a corner, and gave him chapter and verse for the whole war. Every now and then as I come near them, I heard Bunker's Hill, Brandywine, Clinton, Gates, and so on. It was broad day when we parted, and the last that went was poor minister. Father followed him clean down to the gate, and says he, 'Minister, we hadn't time this hitch, or I'd a told you all about the evakyation of New York, but I'll tell you that the next time we meet.'"
No. XXI
Setting up for Governor.
"I never see one of them queer little old-fashioned teapots, like that 'ere in the cupboard of Marm Pugwash," said the Clockmaker, "that I don't think of Lawyer Crowningshield and his wife. When I was down to Rhode Island last, I spent an evening with them. Arter I had been there a while, the black house-help brought in a little home made dipped candle, stuck in a turnip sliced in two, to make it stand straight, and set it down on the table. 'Why,' says the lawyer to his wife, 'Increase my dear, what on airth is the meanin' o' that? What does little Viney mean by bringin' in such a light as this, that ain't fit for even a log hut of one of our free and enlightened citizens away down east; where's the lamp?' 'My dear,' says she, 'I ordered it—you know they are a-goin' to set you up for Governor next year, and I allot we must economize or we will be ruined; the salary is only four hundred dollars a year, you know, and you'll have to give up your practice; we can't afford nothin' now.'
"Well, when tea was brought in, there was a little wee china teapot, that held about the matter of half a pint or so, and cups and sarcers about the bigness of children's toys. When he seed that, he grew most peskily riled, his under lip curled down like a peach leaf that's got a worm in it, and he stripped his teeth, and showed his grinders, like a bull-dog. 'What foolery is this?' said he. 'My dear,' said she, 'it's the foolery of being Governor; if you choose to sacrifice all your comfort to being the first rung in the ladder, don't blame me for it. I didn't nominate you—I had not art nor part in it. It was cooked up at that 'ere Convention, at Town Hall.' Well, he sot for some time without sayin' a word, lookin' as black as a thunder cloud, just ready to make all natur' crack agin. At last he gets up, and walks round behind his wife's chair, and takin' her face between his two hands, he turns it up and gives her a buss that went off like a pistol; it fairly made my mouth water to see him; thinks I, Them lips ain't a bad bank to deposit one's spare kisses in, neither. 'Increase, my dear,' said he, 'I believe you are half right; I'll decline tomorrow, I'll have nothin' to do with it. I WON'T BE A GOVERNOR, ON NO ACCOUNT.'