"Well, she had to haw and gee like, both a little, afore she could get her head out of his hands; and then she said, 'Zachariah,' says she, 'how you do act! Ain't you ashamed? Do for gracious sake behave yourself!' and she coloured up all over like a crimson piany; 'if you havn't foozled all my hair too, that's a fact,' says she; and she put her curls to rights, and looked as pleased as fun, though poutin' all the time, and walked right out of the room. Presently in come two well dressed house-helps, one with a splendid gilt lamp, a real London touch, and another with a tea tray, with a large solid silver coffee pot, and teapot, and a cream jug, and sugar bowl, of the same genuine metal, and a most an elegant set of real gilt china. Then in came Marm Crowningshield herself, lookin' as proud as if she would not call the President her cousin; and she gave the lawyer a look, as much as to say, I guess when Mr. Slick is gone, I'll pay you off that 'ere kiss with interest, you dear you; I'll answer a bill at sight for it, I will, you may depend. 'I believe,' said he agin, 'you are right, Increase, my dear, it's an expensive kind of honour that, bein' Governor, and no great thanks neither; great cry and little wool, all talk and no cider. It's enough I guess for a man to govern his own family, ain't it, dear?' 'Sartin, my love,' said she, 'sartin, a man is never so much in his own proper sphere as there; and beside,' said she, 'his will is supreme to home, there is no danger of any one non-concurring him there;' and she gave me a sly look, as much as to say, I let him think he is master in his own house, FOR WHEN LADIES WEAR THE BREECHES, THEIR PETTICOATS OUGHT TO BE LONG ENOUGH TO HIDE THEM; but I allot, Mr. Slick, you can see with half an eye that the 'grey mare is the better horse' here.
"What a pity it is," continued the Clockmaker, "that the Bluenoses would not take a leaf out of Marm Crowninshield's book—talk more of their own affairs and less of politics. I'm sick of the everlastin' sound of 'House of Assembly,' and 'Council,' and 'great folks.' They never alleviate talking about them from July to etarnity.
"I had a curious conversation about politics once, away up to the right here. Do you see that 'ere house," said he, "in the field, that's got a lurch to leeward, like a north river sloop, struck with a squall, off West Point, lopsided like? It looks like Seth Pine, a tailor down to Hartford, that had one leg shorter than t'other, when he stood at ease at militia trainin', a-restin' on the littlest one. Well, I had a special frolic there the last time I passed this way. I lost the linch pin out of my forrard axle, and I turned up there to get it sot to rights. Just as I drove through the gate, I saw the eldest gal a-makin' for the house for dear life—she had a short petticoat on that looked like a kilt, and her bare legs put me in mind of the long shanks of a bittern down in a rush swamp, a-drivin' away like mad, full chisel arter a frog. I couldn't think what on airth was the matter. Thinks I, she wants to make herself look decent like afore I get in, she don't like to pull her stockings on afore me; so I pulls up the old horse and let her have a fair start. Well, when I came to the door, I heard a proper scuddin'; there was a regular flight into Egypt, jist such a noise as little children make when the mistress comes suddenly into school, all a-huddlin' and scroudgin' into their seats, as quick as wink. 'Dear me!' says the old woman, as she put her head out of a broken window to avail who it was, 'is it you, Mr. Slick? I sniggers, if you didn't frighten us properly, we actilly thought it was the sheriff; do come in.
"Poor thing, she looked half starved and half savage, hunger and temper had made proper strong lines in her face, like water furrows in a ploughed field; she looked bony and thin, like a horse that has had more work than oats, and had a wicked expression, as though it warn't over safe to come too near her heels—an everlastin' kicker. 'You may come out, John,' said she to her husband, 'it's only Mr. Slick;' and out came John from under the bed backwards, on all fours, like an ox out of the shoein' frame, or a lobster skullin' wrong eend foremost; he looked as wild as a hawk. Well, I swan, I thought I should have split, I could hardly keep from bustin' right out with larfter; he was all covered with feathers, lint and dust, the savin's of all the sweepin's since the house was built, shoved under there for tidiness. He actilly sneezed for the matter of ten minutes—he seemed half choked with the flaff and stuff, that came out with him like a cloud. Lord, he looked like a goose half picked, as if all the quills were gone, but the pin-feathers and down were left, jist ready for singein' and stuffin. He put me in mind of a sick Adjutant, a great tall hulkin' bird, that comes from the East Indgies, a'most as high as a man, and most as knowin' as a Bluenose. I'd a gin a hundred dollars to have had that chap as a show at a fair; tar and feathers warn't half as nateral. You've seen a gal both larf and cry at the same time, hain't you? Well, I hope I may be shot if I couldn't have done the same. To see that critter come like a turkey out of a bag at Christmas, to be fired at for ten cents a shot, was as good as a play; but to look round and see the poverty—the half-naked children; the old pine stumps for chairs; a small bin of poor, watery, yaller potatoes in the corner; daylight through the sides and roof of the house, lookin' like the tarred seams of a ship, all black where the smoke got out; no utensils for cookin' or eatin'; and starvation wrote as plain as a handbill on their holler cheeks, skinney fingers, and sunk eyes—went right straight to the heart. I do declare I believe I should have cried, only they didn't seem to mind it themselves. They had been used to it, like a man that's married to a thunderin' ugly wife, he gets so accustomed to the look of her everlastin' dismal mug, that he don't think her ugly at all.
"Well, there was another chap a-settin' by the fire, and he DID look as if he saw it, and felt it too; he didn't seem over half pleased, you may depend. He was the District Schoolmaster, and he told me he was takin' a spell at boardin' there, for it was their turn to keep him. Thinks I to myself, poor devil, you've brought your pigs to a pretty market, that's a fact. I see how it is, the Bluenoses can't cipher. The cat's out of the bag now; it's no wonder they don't go ahead, for they don't know nothin'; the 'Schoolmaster is abroad,' with the devil to it, for he has no home at all. Why, Squire, you might jist as well expect a horse to go right off in gear, before he is halter broke, as a Bluenose to get on in the world, when he has got no schoolin'.
"But to get back to my story. 'Well,' says I, 'how's times with you, Mrs. Spry?' 'Dull,' says she, 'very dull; there's no markets now, things don't fetch nothin'.' Thinks I, some folks hadn't ought to complain of markets, for they don't raise nothin' to sell, but I didn't say so; FOR POVERTY IS KEEN ENOUGH, WITHOUT SHARPENING ITS EDGE BY POKIN' FUN AT IT. 'Potatoes,' says I, 'will fetch a good price this fall, for it's a short crop in a general way; how's your'n?' 'Grand,' says she, 'as complete as you ever seed; our tops were small and didn't look well; but we have the handsomest bottoms, it's generally allowed, in all our place; you never seed the best of them, they are actilly worth lookin' at.' I vow I had to take a chaw of tobaccy to keep from snortin' right out, it sounded so queer like. Thinks I to myself, old lady, it's a pity you couldn't be changed eend for eend then, as some folks do their stockings; it would improve the look of your dial-plate amazin'ly then, that's a fact.
"Now there was human natur', Squire," said the Clockmaker, "there was pride even in that hovel. It is found in rags as well as King's robes, where butter is spread with the thumb as well as the silver knife, NATUR' IS NATUR' WHEREVER YOU FIND IT.
"Jist then, in came one or two neighbours to see the sport, for they took me for a sheriff or constable, or something of that breed, and when they saw it was me they sot down to hear the news; they fell right too at politics as keen as anything, as if it had been a dish of real Connecticut slapjacks, or hominy; or what is better still, a glass of real genuine splendid mint julep, WHE-EU-UP, it fairly makes my mouth water to think of it. 'I wonder,' says one, 'what they will do for us this winter in the House of Assembly?' 'Nothin',' says the other, 'they never do nothin' but what the great people at Halifax tell 'em. Squire Yeoman is the man, he'll pay up the great folks this hitch, he'll let 'em have their own, he's jist the boy that can do it.' Says I, 'I wish I could say all men were as honest then, for I am afeard there are a great many won't pay me up this winter; I should like to trade with your friend, who is he?' 'Why,' says he, 'he is the member for Isle Sable County, and if he don't let the great folks have it, it's a pity.' 'Who do you call great folks?' said I, 'for I vow I havn't seed one since I came here. The only one that I know that comes near hand to one is Nicholas Overknocker, that lives all along shore, about Margaret's Bay, and HE IS a great man—it takes a yoke of oxen to drag him. When I first seed him, says I, "What on airth is the matter o' that man, has he the dropsy? For he is actilly the greatest man I ever seed; he must weigh the matter of five hundred weight; he'd cut three inches on the rib; he must have a proper sight of lard, that chap." No,' says I, 'don't call 'em great men, for there ain't a great man in the country, that's a fact; there ain't one that desarves the name; folks will only larf at you if you talk that way. There may be some rich men, and I believe there be, and it's a pity there warn't more on 'em, and a still greater pity they have so little spirit or enterprise among 'em, but a country is none the worse of having rich men in it, you may depend. Great folks! Well, come, that's a good joke, that bangs the bush. No, my friend,' says I, 'the meat that's at the top of the barrel, is sometimes not so good as that that's a little further down; the upper and lower eends are plaguy apt to have a little taint in 'em, but the middle is always good.'
"'Well,' says the Bluenose, 'perhaps they bean't great men, exactly in that sense, but they are great men compared to us poor folks; and they eat up all the revenue; there's nothin' left for roads and bridges; they want to ruin the country, that's a fact.' 'Want to ruin your granny,' says I (for it raised my dander to hear the critter talk such nonsense); I did hear of one chap,' says I, 'that sot fire to his own house once, up to Squantum, but the cunnin' rascal insured it first; now how can your great folks ruin the country without ruinin' themselves, unless they have insured the Province? Our folks will insure all creation for half nothin', but I never heerd tell of a country being insured agin rich men. Now if you ever go to Wall Street to get such a policy, leave the door open behind you, that's all; or they'll grab right hold of you, shave your head and blister it, clap a straight jacket on you, and whip you right into a mad house, afore you can say Jack Robinson. No, your great men are nothin' but rich men, and I can tell you for your comfort, there's nothin' to hinder you from bein' rich too, if you will take the same means as they did. They were once all as poor folks as you be, or their fathers afore them; for I know their whole breed, seed and generation, and they wouldn't thank you to tell them that you knew their fathers and grandfathers, I tell you. If ever you want the loan of a hundred pounds from any of them, keep dark about that; see as far ahead as you please, but it ain't always pleasant to have folks see too far back. Perhaps they be a little proud or so, but that's nateral; all folks that grow up right off, like a mushroom in one night, are apt to think no small beer of themselves. A cabbage has plaguy large leaves to the bottom, and spreads them out as wide as an old woman's petticoats, to hide the ground it sprung from, and conceal its extraction, but what's that to you? If they get too large salaries, dock 'em down at once, but don't keep talkin' about it for everlastinly. If you have too many sarvents, pay some on 'em off, or when they quit your sarvice don't hire others in their room, that's all; but you miss your mark when you keep firin' away at bankers, lawyers, and public officers, the whole blessed time that way.
"'I went out a-gunnin' once when I was a boy, and father went along with me to teach me. Well, the first flock of plover I seed I let slip at 'em, and missed 'em. Says father, says he, "What a blockhead you be, Sam, that's your own fault, they were too far off; you hadn't ought to have fired so soon. At Bunker's hill we let the British come right on till we seed the whites of their eyes, and then we let 'em have it slap bang." Well, I felt kinder grigged at missin' my shot, and I didn't over half like to be scolded too; so, says I, "Yes, father; but recollect you had a mud bank to hide behind, where you were proper safe, and you had a rest for your guns too; but as soon as you seed a little more than the whites of their eyes, you run for dear life, full split; and so I don't see much to brag on in that arter all, so come now." "I'll teach you to talk that way, you puppy you," said he, "of that glorious day;" and he fetched me a wipe that I do believe if I hadn't a dodged, would have spoiled my gunnin' for that hitch; so I gave him a wide birth arter that all day. Well, the next time I missed, says I, "She hung fire so everlastinly, it's no wonder;" and the next miss, says I, "The powder is no good, I vow." Well, I missed every shot, and I had an excuse for every one on 'em—the flint was bad, or she flashed in the pan, or the shot scaled, or something or another; and when all wouldn't do, I swore the gun was no good at all. "Now," says father (and he edged up all the time, to pay me off for that hit at his Bunker hill story, which was the only shot I didn't miss), you hain't got the right reason arter all. It was your own fault, Sam."
"'Now that's jist the case with you; you may blame Banks and Council, and House of Assembly, and "the great men," till you are tired, but it's all your own fault—YOU'VE NO SPIRIT AND NO ENTERPRISE, YOU WANT INDUSTRY AND ECONOMY; USE THEM, AND YOU'LL SOON BE AS RICH AS THE PEOPLE AT HALIFAX YOU CALL GREAT FOLKS. They didn't grow rich by talkin', but by workin'; instead of lookin' after other folks' business, they looked about the keenest arter their own. You are like the machinery of one of our boats—good enough, and strong enough, but of no airthly use till you get the steam up; you want to be set in motion, and then you'll go ahead like anything, you may depend. Give up politics. It's a barren field, and well watched too; when one critter jumps a fence into a good field and gets fat, more nor twenty are chased round and round, by a whole pack of yelpin' curs, till they are fairly beat out, and eend by bein' half-starved, and are at the liftin' at last. Look to your farms, your water powers, your fisheries, and factories. In short,' says I, puttin' on my hat and startin', 'look to yourselves, and don't look to others.'"
No. XXII
A Cure for Conceit.
"It's a most curious, unaccountable thing, but it's a fact," said the Clockmaker, "the Bluenoses are so conceited, they think they know everything; and yet there ain't a livin' soul in Nova Scotia knows his own business real complete, farmer or fisherman, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk. A farmer said to me one day, up to Pugnose's inn at River Philip, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'I allot this ain't "A BREAD COUNTRY;" I intend to sell off the house I improve, and go to the States.' 'If it ain't a bread country,' said I, 'I never seed one that was. There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, and No. 1 Genesssee, than in any other place of the same population in the univarse. You might as well say it ain't a clock country, when, to my sartin knowledge, there are more clocks than bibles in it. I guess you expect to raise your bread ready made, don't you? Well there's only one class of our free and enlightened citizens that can do that, and that's them that are born with silver spoons in their mouths. It's a pity you wasn't availed of this truth, afore you up killoch and off; take my advice and bide where you be.'
"Well, the fishermen are jist as bad. The next time you go into the fish market at Halifax, stump some of the old hands; says you 'how many fins has a cod, at a word?' and I'll liquidate the bet if you lose it. When I've been along-shore afore now, a-vendin' of my clocks, and they began to raise my dander, by belittleing the Yankees, I always brought them up by a round turn by that requirement, 'How many fins has a cod, at a word.' Well, they never could answer it; and then, says I, 'When you larn your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach other folks their'n.'
"How different it is with our men folk, if they can't get through a question, how beautifully they can go round it, can't they? Nothin' never stops them. I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad, one was a lawyer, and the other a doctor. They were a-talkin' about their examinations one night, at a huskin' frolic, up to Governor Ball's big stone barn at Slickville. Says Josy, 'When I was examined, the judge axed me all about real estate; and, says he, "Josiah," says he, "what's a fee?" "Why," says I, "Judge, it depends on the natur' of the case. In a common one," says I, "I call six dollars a pretty fair one; but lawyer Webster has got afore now, I've heerd tell, one thousand dollars, and that I DO CALL a fee." Well, the judge he larfed ready to split his sides (thinks I, old chap, you'll bust like a steam b'iler, if you hain't got a safety valve somewhere or another), and says he, "I vow that's superfine; I'll indorse your certificate for you, young man; there's no fear of you, you'll pass the inspection brand anyhow."
"'Well,' says Eldad, 'I hope I may be skinned if the same thing didn't e'enamost happen to me at my examination. They axed me a 'nation sight of questions, some on 'em I could answer, and some on 'em no soul could, right off the reel at a word, without a little cipherin'; at last they axed me, "How would you calculate to put a patient into a sweat, when common modes wouldn't work no how?" "Why," says I, "I'd do as Dr. Comfort Payne sarved father." "And how was that?" said they. "Why," says I, "he put him into such a sweat as I never seed him in afore, in all my born days, since I was raised, by sending him in his bill, and if that didn't sweat him it's a pity; it was an ACTIVE dose you may depend." "I guess that 'ere chap has cut his eye-teeth," said the President; "let him pass as approbated."'
"They both knowed well enough; they only made as if they didn't, to poke a little fun at them, for the Slick family were counted in a general way to be pretty considerable cute.
"They reckon themselves here a chalk above us Yankees, but I guess they have a wrinkle or two to grow afore they progress ahead on us yet. If they hain't got a full cargo of conceit here, then I never seed a load, that's all. They have the hold chock full, deck piled up to the pump handles, and scuppers under water. They larnt that of the British, who are actilly so full of it, they remind me of Commodore Trip. When he was about half-shaved he thought everybody drunk but himself. I never liked the last war, I thought it unnateral, and that we hadn't ought to have taken hold of it at all, and so most of our New England folks thought; and I wasn't sorry to hear Gineral Dearborne was beat, seein' we had no call to go into Canada. But when the Guerriere was captivated by our old Ironsides, the Constitution, I did feel lifted up amost as high as a stalk of Varginny corn among Connecticut middlins; I grew two inches taller I vow, the night I heerd that news. Brag, says I, is a good dog, but Holdfast is better. The British navals had been a-braggin' and a-hectorin' so long, that when they landed in our cities, they swaggered e'enamost as much as Uncle Peleg (big Peleg as he was called), and when he walked up the centre of one of our narrow Boston streets, he used to swing his arms on each side of him, so that folks had to clear out of both foot paths; he's cut, afore now, the fingers of both hands agin the shop windows on each side of the street. Many the poor feller's crupper bone he's smashed, with his great thick boots, a-throwin' out his feet afore him e'enamost out of sight, when he was in full rig a-swigglin' away at the top of his gait. Well, they cut as many shines as Uncle Peleg. One frigate they guessed would captivate, sink, or burn our whole navy. Says a naval one day, to the skipper of a fishing boat that he took, says he, 'Is it true Commodore Decatur's sword is made of an old iron hoop?' 'Well,' says the skipper, 'I'm not quite certified as to that, seein' as I never sot eyes on it; but I guess if he gets a chance he'll show you the temper of it some of these days, anyhow.'
"I mind once a British man-o'-war took one of our Boston vessels, and ordered all hands on board, and sent a party to skuttle her; well, they skuttled the fowls and the old particular genuine rum, but they obliviated their arrand and left her. Well, next day another frigate (for they were as thick as toads arter a rain) comes near her, and fires a shot for her to bring to. No answer was made, there bein' no livin' soul on board, and another shot fired, still no answer. 'Why what on airth is the meanin' of this,' said the Captain; 'why don't they haul down that damn goose and gridiron?' (That's what he called our eagle and stars on the flag.) 'Why,' says the first leftenant, 'I guess they are all dead men, that shot frightened them to death.' 'They are afeared to show their noses,' says another, 'lest they should be shaved off by our shots.' 'They are all down below "A-CALCULATIN'" their loss I guess,' says a third. 'I'll take my davy,' says the Captain, 'it's some Yankee trick—a torpedo in her bottom or some such trap; we'll let her be;' and sure enough, next day, back she came to shore of herself. 'I'll give you a quarter of an hour,' says the Captain of the Guerriere to his men, 'to take that 'ere Yankee frigate, the Constitution.' I guess he found his mistake where he didn't expect it, without any great sarch for it either. Yes (to eventuate my story), it did me good; I felt dreadful nice, I promise you. It was as lovely as bitters of a cold mornin'. Our folks beat 'em arter that so often, they got a little grain too much conceit also. They got their heels too high for their boots, and began to walk like uncle Peleg too, so that when the Chesapeake got whipped I warn't sorry. We could spare that one, and it made our navals look round, like a feller who gets a hoist, to see who's a-larfin' at him. It made 'em brush the dust off, and walk on rather sheepish. It cut their combs that's a fact. The war did us a plaguy sight of good in more ways than one, and it did the British some good too. It taught 'em not to carry their chins too high, for fear they shouldn't see the gutters—a mistake that's spoiled many a bran' new coat and trousers afore now.
"Well, these Bluenoses have caught this disease, as folks do the Scotch fiddle, by shakin' hands along with the British. Conceit has become here, as Doctor Rush says (you have heerd tell of him? he's the first man of the age, and it's generally allowed our doctors take the shine off of all the world), acclimated; it is citizenized among 'em; and the only cure is a real good quiltin'. I met a first chop Colchester gag this summer a-goin' to the races to Halifax, and he knowed as much about racin', I do suppose, as a Choctaw Ingian does of a railroad. Well, he was a-praisin' of his horse, and runnin' on like statiee. He was begot, he said, by Roncesvalles, which was better than any horse that ever was seen, because he was once in a duke's stable in England. It was only a man that had blood like a lord, said he, that knew what blood in a horse was. Captain Currycomb, an officer at Halifax, had seen his horse and praised him; and that was enough—that stamped him—that fixed his value. It was like the President's name to a bank note, it makes it pass current. 'Well,' says I, 'I hain't got a drop of blood in me, nothin' stronger than molasses and water, I vow, but I guess I know a horse when I see him for all that, and I don't think any great shakes of your beast, anyhow. What start will you give me,' says I, 'and I will run Old Clay agin you, for a mile lick right an eend.' 'Ten rods,' said he, 'for twenty dollars.' Well, we run, and I made Old Clay bite in his breath and only beat him by half a neck. 'A tight scratch,' says I, 'that, and it would have sarved me right if I had been beat. I had no business to run an old roadster so everlastin' fast, it ain't fair on him, is it?' Says he, 'I will double the bet and start even, and run you agin if you dare.' 'Well,' says I, 'since I won the last it wouldn't be pretty not to give you a chance; I do suppose I oughtn't to refuse, but I don't love to abuse my beast by knockin' him about this way.'
"As soon as the money was staked, I said, 'Hadn't we better,' says I, 'draw stakes? That 'ere blood horse of your'n has such uncommon particular bottom, he'll perhaps leave me clean out of sight.' 'No fear of that,' said he, larfin', 'but he'll beat you easy, anyhow. No flinchin',' says he, 'I'll not let you go back of the bargain. It's run or forfeit.' 'Well,' says I, 'friend, there is fear of it; your horse will leave me out of sight, to a sartainty, that's a fact, for he CAN'T KEEP UP TO ME NO TIME. I'll drop him, hull down, in tu tu's.' If Old Clay didn't make a fool of him, it's a pity. Didn't he gallop pretty, that's all? He walked away from him, jist as the Chancellor Livingston steamboat passes a sloop at anchor in the north river. Says I, 'I told you your horse would beat me clean out of sight, but you wouldn't believe me; now,' says I, 'I will tell you something else. That 'ere horse will help, you to lose more money to Halifax than you are a-thinkin' on; for there ain't a beast gone down there that won't beat him. He can't run a bit, and you may tell the British Captain I say so. Take him home and sell him, buy a good yoke of oxen; they are fast enough for a farmer, and give up blood horses to them that can afford to keep stable helps to tend 'em, and leave bettin' alone to them, as has more money nor wit, and can afford to lose their cash, without thinkin' agin of their loss.' 'When I want your advice,' said he, 'I will ask it,' most peskily sulky. 'You might have got it before you axed for it,' said I, 'but not afore you wanted it, you may depend on it. But stop,' said I, 'let's see that all's right afore we part;' so I counts over the fifteen pounds I won of him, note by note, as slow as anything, on purpose to rile him; then I mounts Old Clay agin, and says I, 'Friend, you have considerably the advantage of me this hitch, anyhow.' 'Possible!' says he, 'how's that?' 'Why,' says I, 'I guess you'll return rather lighter than you came, and that's more nor I can say, anyhow;' and then I gave him a wink and a jupe of the head, as much as to say, 'do you take?' and rode on and left him starin' and scratchin' his head like a feller who's lost his road. If that citizen ain't a born fool, or too far gone in the disease, depend on't, he found 'A CURE FOR CONCEIT.'"
No. XXIII
The Blowin' Time.
The long, rambling dissertation on conceit to which I had just listened, from the Clockmaker, forcibly reminded me of the celebrated aphorism "gnothi seauton," know thyself, which, both from its great antiquity and wisdom, has been by many attributed to an oracle.
With all his shrewdness to discover, and his humour to ridicule the foibles of others, Mr. Slick was kind to the many defects of his own character; and while prescribing "a cure for conceit," exhibited in all he said, and all he did, the most overweening conceit himself. He never spoke of his own countrymen, without calling them "the most free and enlightened citizens on the face of the airth," or as "takin' the shine off of all creation." His country he boasted to be the "best atween the poles," "the greatest glory under heaven." The Yankees he considered (to use his expression) as "actilly the class-leaders in knowledge among all the Americans," and boasted that they have not only "gone ahead of all others," but had lately arrived at that most enviable NE PLUS ULTRA point, "goin' ahead of themselves." In short, he entertained no doubt that Slickville was the finest place in the greatest nation in the world, and the Slick family the wisest family in it.
I was about calling his attention to this national trait, when I saw him draw his reins under his foot (a mode of driving peculiar to himself, when he wished to economize the time that would otherwise be lost by an unnecessary delay), and taking off his hat (which, like a peddler's pack, contained a general assortment), select from a number of loose cigars one that appeared likely "to go," as he called it. Having lighted it by a lucifer, and ascertained that it was "true in draft," he resumed his reins and remarked—
"This must be an everlastin' fine country beyond all doubt, for the folks have nothin' to do but to ride about and talk politics. In winter, when the ground is covered with snow, what grand times they have a-sleighin' over these here marshes with the gals, or playin' ball on the ice, or goin' to quiltin' frolics of nice long winter evenings, and then a-drivin' home like mad, by moonlight. Natur' meant that season on purpose for courtin'. A little tidy scrumptious lookin' sleigh, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on his back, lookin' for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at gatherin' time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but her eyes and lips—the one lookin' right into you, and the other talkin' right at you—is e'enamost enough to drive one ravin' tarin' distracted mad with pleasure, ain't it? And then the dear critters say the bells make such a din there's no hearin' one's self speak; so they put their pretty little mugs close up to your face, and talk, talk, talk, till one can't help lookin' right at them instead of the horse, and then whap you both go capsized into a snowdrift together, skins, cushions and all. And then to see the little critter shake herself when she gets up, like a duck landin' from a pond, a-chatterin' away all the time like a canary bird, and you a haw-hawin' with pleasure, is fun alive, you may depend. In this way Bluenose gets led on to offer himself as a lovier, afore he knows where he bees.
"But when he gets married, he recovers his eyesight in little less than half no time. He soon finds he's treed; his flint is fixed then, you may depend. She larns him how vinegar is made: 'Put plenty of sugar into the water aforehand, my dear,' says she, 'if you want to make it real sharp.' The larf is on the other side of his mouth then. If his sleigh gets upsot, it's no longer a funny matter, I tell you; he catches it right and left. Her eyes don't look right up to his'n any more, nor her little tongue ring, ring, ring, like a bell any longer, but a great big hood covers her head, and a whappin' great muff covers her face, and she looks like a bag of soiled clothes a-goin' to the brook to be washed. When they get out, she don't wait any more for him to walk lock and lock with her, but they march like a horse and a cow to water, one in each gutter. If there ain't a transmogrification it's a pity. The difference atween a wife and a sweetheart is near about as great as there is between new and hard cider: a man never tires of puttin' one to his lips, but makes plaguy wry faces at t'other. It makes me so kinder wamblecropt when I think on it, that I'm afeared to venture on matrimony at all. I have seen some Bluenoses most properly bit, you may depend. You've seen a boy a-slidin' on a most beautiful smooth bit of ice, hain't you, larfin', and hoopin', and hallooin' like one possessed, when presently sowse he goes in over head and ears? How he outs, fins, and flops about, and blows like a porpoise properly frightened, don't he? and when he gets out there he stands; all shiverin' and shakin', and the water a squish-squashin' in his shoes, and his trousers all stickin' slimsey-like to his legs. Well, he sneaks off home, lookin' like a fool, and thinkin' everybody he meets is a-larfin' at him—many folks here are like that 'ere boy, afore they have been six months married. They'd be proper glad to get out of the scrape too, and sneak off if they could, that's a fact. The marriage yoke is plaguy apt to gall the neck, as the ash bow does the ox in rainy weather, unless it be most particularly well fitted. You've seen a yoke of cattle that warn't properly mated, they spend more strength in pullin' agin each other, than in pullin' the load. Well that's apt to be the case with them as choose their wives in sleighin' parties, quiltin' frolics, and so on; instead of the dairies, looms, and cheese-houses.
"Now the Bluenoses are all a-stirrin' in winter. The young folks drive out the gals, and talk love and all sorts of things as sweet as doughnuts. The old folks find it near about as well to leave the old women to home, for fear they shouldn't keep tune together; so they drive out alone to chat about House of Assembly with their neighbours, while the boys and hired helps do the chores. When the Spring comes, and the fields are dry enough to be sowed, they all have to be ploughed, 'CAUSE FALL RAINS WASH THE LANDS TOO MUCH FOR FALL PLOUGHIN'. Well, the ploughs have to be mended and sharpened, 'CAUSE WHAT'S THE USE OF DOIN' THAT AFORE IT'S WANTED? Well, the wheat gets in too late, and then comes rust; but whose fault is that? WHY, THE CLIMATE TO BE SURE, FOR NOVA SCOTIA AIN'T A BREAD COUNTRY.
"When a man has to run ever so far as fast as he can clip, he has to stop and take breath; you must do that or choke. So it is with a horse; run him a mile, and his flanks will heave like a Blacksmith's bellows; you must slack up the rein and give him a little wind, or he'll fall right down with you. It stands to reason, don't it? Atwixt spring and fall work is 'BLOWIN' TIME.' Then Courts come on, and Grand Jury business, and Militia trainin', and Race trainin', and what not; and a fine spell of ridin' about and doin' nothin', a real 'BLOWIN TIME.' Then comes harvest, and that is proper hard work: mowin' and pitchin' hay, and reapin' and bindin' grain, and potato diggin'. That's as hard as sole leather, afore it's hammered on the lap stone; it's a'most next to anything. It takes a feller as tough as Old Hickory (General Jackson) to stand that.
"Ohio is 'most the only country I knew of where folks are saved that trouble; and there the freshets come jist in the nick of time for 'em, and sweep all the crops right up in a heap for 'em, and they have nothin' to do but take it home and house it, and sometimes a man gets more than his own crop, and finds a proper swad of it all ready piled up, only a little wet or so; but all countries ain't like Ohio. Well, arter harvest comes fall, and then there's a grand 'blowin' time' till spring. Now, how the Lord the Bluenoses can complain of their country, when it's only one third work and two-thirds 'blowin' time,' no soul can tell.
"Father used to say, when I lived on the farm along with him, 'Sam,' says he, 'I vow I wish there was jist four hundred days in the year, for it's a plaguy sight too short for me. I can find as much work as all hands on us can do for three hundred and sixty-five days, and jist thirty-five days more, if we had 'em. We hain't got a minit to spare; you must shell the corn and winner the grain at night, and clean all up slick, or I guess we'll fall astarn as sure as the Lord made Moses.' If he didn't keep us all at it, a-drivin' away full chisel, the whole blessed time, it's a pity. There was no 'blowin' time' there, you may depend. We ploughed all the fall for dear life; in winter we thrashed, made and mended tools, went to market and mill, and got out our firewood and rails. As soon as frost was gone, came sowin' and plantin', weedin' and hoein'; then harvest and spreadin' compost; then gatherin' manure, fencin' and ditchin'; and then turn tu and fall ploughin' agin. It all went round like a wheel without stoppin', and so fast, I guess you couldn't see the spokes, just one long everlastin' stroke from July to etarnity, without time to look back on the tracks. Instead of racin' over the country like a young doctor, to show how busy a man is that has nothin' to do, as Bluenose does, and then take a 'blowin' time,' we kept a rale travellin' gait, an eight-mile-an-hour pace, the whole year round. THEY BUY MORE NOR THEY SELL, AND EAT MORE THAN THEY RAISE, in this country. What a pretty way that is, isn't it? If the critters knew how to cipher, they would soon find out that a sum stated that way always eends in a naught. I never knew it to fail, and I defy any soul to cipher it so, as to make it come out any other way, either by Schoolmaster's Assistant or Algebra. When I was a boy, the Slickville bank broke, and an awful disorderment it made, that's a fact; nothin' else was talked of. Well, I studied it over a long time, but I couldn't make it out: so says I, 'Father, how came that 'ere bank to break? Warn't it well built? I thought that 'ere Quincy granite was so amazin' strong all natur' wouldn't break it.' 'Why you foolish critter,' says he, 'it ain't the buildin' that's broke, it's the consarn that's smashed.' 'Well,' says I, 'I know folks are plaguilly consarned about it, but what do you call folks' "smashin' their consarns"?' Father, he larfed out like anything; I thought he never would stop; and sister Sall got right up and walked out of the room, as mad as a hatter. Says she, 'Sam, I do believe you are a born fool, I vow.' When father had done larfin', says he, 'I'll tell you, Sam, how it was. They ciphered it so that they brought out nothin' for a remainder.' 'Possible!' says I; 'I thought there was no eend to their puss. I thought it was like Uncle Peleg's musquash hole, and that no soul could ever find the bottom of. My!' says I. 'Yes,' says he, 'that 'ere bank spent and lost more money than it made, and when folks do that, they must smash at last, if their puss be as long as the national one of Uncle Sam.' This Province is like that 'ere Bank of our'n, it's goin' the same road, and they'll find the little eend of the horn afore they think they are halfway down to it.
"If folks would only give over talkin' about that everlastin' House of Assembly and Council, and see to their farms, it would be better for 'em, I guess; for arter all, what is it? Why it's only a sort of first chop Grand Jury, and nothin' else. It's no more like Congress or Parliament, than Marm Pugwash's keepin' room is like our State hall. It's jist nothin'. Congress makes war and peace, has a say in all treaties, confarms all great nominations of the President, regilates the army and navy, governs twenty-four independent States, and snaps its fingers in the face of all the nations of Europe, as much as to say, who be you? I allot I am as big as you be. If you are six foot high, I am six foot six in my stockin' feet, by gum, and can lambaste any two on you in no time. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. But this little House of Assembly that folks make such a touss about, what is it? Why jist a decent Grand Jury. They make their presentments of little money votes, to mend these everlastin' rottin' little wooden bridges, to throw a poultice of mud once a year on the roads, and then take a 'blowin' time' of three months and go home. The littler folks be, the bigger they talk. You never seed a small man that didn't wear high heel boots, and a high-crowned hat, and that warn't ready to fight most any one, to show he was a man every inch of him.
"I met a member the other day, who swaggered near about as large as Uncle Peleg. He looked as if he thought you couldn't find his 'ditto' anywhere. He used some most particular educational words, genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squirrel I once shot in our wood location. The little critter got a hickory nut in his mouth; well, he found it too hard to crack, and too big to swaller, and for the life and soul of him, he couldn't spit it out agin. If he didn't look like a proper fool, you may depend. We had a pond back of our barn about the bigness of a good sizeable wash-tub, and it was chock full of frogs. Well, one of these little critters fancied himself a bull-frog, and he puffed out his cheeks, and took a real 'blowin' time' of it; he roared away like thunder; at last he puffed and puffed out till he bust like a b'iler. If I see the Speaker this winter (and I shall see him to a sartainty if they don't send for him to London, to teach their new Speaker; and he's up to snuff, that 'ere man; he knows how to cipher), I'll jist say to him, 'Speaker,' says I, 'if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, give 'em a hint in time.' Says you, 'if you have are a little safety valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it; recollect the Clockmaker's story of the "Blowin' time".'"
No. XXIV
Father John O'Shaughnessy.
"Tomorrow will be Sabbath day," said the Clockmaker; "I guess we'll bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country; all natur' seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but art there. The deathy stillness of a town, and the barred windows, and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick buildin's look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin', but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there; as if day had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there.
"Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be—a day of rest for man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says, Come, this is a splendid day, ain't it? Let's get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin'. His first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes to worship he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and they are glad to see each other, and if any two on 'em hain't exactly gee'd together durin' the week, why they meet on kind of neutral ground, and the minister or neighbours make peace atween them. But it ain't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's the worship of neighbours, but it's the worship of strangers, too, for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yes, I love a Sabbath in the country."
While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table, and turning to the title page, said, "Have you ever seen this here book on the 'Elder Controversy?' (a controversy on the subject of Infant Baptism). This author's friends say it's a clincher; they say he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle."
"No," said I, "I have not; I have heard of it, but never read it. In my opinion the subject has been exhausted already, and admits of nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are a serious injury to the cause of true religion; they are deeply deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already embraced several denominations in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I am told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antagonist, but contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnected with the dispute. The author has injured his own cause, for an INTEMPERATE ADVOCATE IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN AN OPEN FOE."
"There is no doubt on it," said the Clockmaker, "it is as clear as mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic Priest. I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a-leggin' it off hot foot. 'Possible!' says I, 'Father John, is that you? Why, what on airth is the matter of you? What makes you in such an everlastin' hurry, driven away like one ravin' distracted mad?' 'A sick visit,' says he; 'poor Pat Lanigan—him that you mind to Bradore Lake—well he's near about at the p'int of death.' 'I guess not,' said I, 'for I jist heerd tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him up all standin', and he 'bouts ship in a jiffy, and walks a little way with me, and we got a-talkin' about this very subject. Says he, 'What are you, Mr. Slick?' Well, I looks up to him and winks—'A Clockmaker,' says I. Well he smiled, and says he, 'I see;' as much as to say I hadn't ought to have axed that 'ere question at all, I guess, for every man's religion is his own, and nobody else's business. 'Then,' says he, 'you know all about this country. Who do folks say has the best of the dispute?' Says I, 'Father John, it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war, each side claims victory; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way, damage done on both sides, and nothin' gained, as far as I can learn.' He stopped short, and looked me in the face, and says he, 'Mr. Slick you are a man that has seed a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an understandin' man, and I guess I can talk to you. Now,' says he, 'for gracious sake do jist look here, and see how you heretics—protestants I mean,' says he (for I guess that 'ere word slipped out without leave), 'are by the ears, a-drivin' away at each other, the whole blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs, disputin', revilin', wranglin', and beloutin' each other, with all sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the way you love your neighbour as yourself? WE SAY THIS IS A PRACTICAL COMMENT ON SCHISM, and by the powers of Moll Kelly,' said he, 'but they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em entirely.' Says I, 'Father John, give me your hand; there are some things, I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will, seein' that you are a Popish priest; but in that idee I do opinionate with you, and I wish with all my heart all the world thought with us.'
"I guess he didn't half like that 'ere word Popish priest, it seemed to grig him like; his face looked kinder riled, like well water arter a heavy rain; and said he, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'your country is a free country, ain't it?' 'The freest,' says I, 'on the face of the airth—you can't "ditto" it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and when our dander's up, stronger than any hurricane you ever seed—tear up all creation 'most; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere.' 'Do you call this a free country?' said he. 'Pretty considerable middlin',' says I, 'seein' that they are under a king.' 'Well,' says he, 'if you were seen in Connecticut a-shakin' hands along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me' (and he made me a bow, as much as to say mind your trumps the next deal), 'as you now are in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin' and boastin' of your freedom, I guess you wouldn't sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you;' and he bid me good mornin' and turned away. 'Father John!' says I. 'I can't stop,' says he; 'I must see that poor critter's family; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controvarsy in my creed.' 'Well,' says I, 'one word with you afore you go; if that 'ere name Popish priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon; I didn't mean no offence, I do assure you, and I'll say this for your satisfaction, tu; you're the first man in this Province that ever gave me a real right down complete checkmate since I first sot foot in it, I'll be skinned if you ain't.'
"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "Father John was right; these antagonizing chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft of 'em. It fairly makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a-backin' up of their own man. 'At it agin!' says one; 'Fair play!' says another; 'Stick it into him!' says a third; and 'That's your sort!' says a fourth. Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit, it fairly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up on eend to see ministers do that 'ere. IT APPEARS TO ME THAT I COULD WRITE A BOOK IN FAVOUR OF MYSELF AND MY NOTIONS WITHOUT, WRITIN' AGIN ANY ONE, AND IF I COULDN'T I WOULDN'T WRITE AT ALL, I SNORE. Our old minister, Mr. Hopewell (a real good man, and a larned man too that), they sent to him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are a-goin' ahead like statiee in New England, but he refused. Said he, 'Sam,' says he, 'when I first went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat every one wherever he went. Well, old Mr. Possit was the Church of England parson at Charlestown, at the time, and a terrible powerful man he was—a real sneezer, and as ACTIVE as a weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a-takin' of his evenin' walk, and said he, "Parson," says he, "they say you are a most a plaguy strong man and uncommon stiff too." "Now," says he, "I never seed a man yet that was a match for me; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser; if you will I'll keep dark about it, I swan." "Go your way," said the Parson, "and tempt me not; you are a carnal-minded, wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain idle sports." "Very well," said the boxer; "now here I stand," says he, "in the path, right slap afore you; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the path, why then you must first put me out—that's a fact." The Parson jist made a spring forrard, and kitched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin' had happened—as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Stop," said the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up, "stop Parson," said he, "that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you, for I swan I believe you could do one near about as easy as t'other. My!" said he, "if that don't bang the bush; you are another guess chap from what I took you to be, anyhow."
"'Now,' said Mr. Hopewell, says he, 'I won't write, but if ary a Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer; FOR WRITIN' ONLY AGGRAVATES YOUR OPPONENTS, AND NEVER CONVINCES THEM. I NEVER SEED A CONVERT MADE BY THAT WAY YET; BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE SEED: A MAN SET HIS OWN FLOCK A DOUBTIN' BY HIS OWN WRITIN'. YOU MAY HAPPIFY YOUR ENEMIES, CANTANKERATE YOUR OPPONENTS, AND INJURE YOUR OWN CAUSE BY IT, BUT I DEFY YOU TO SARVE IT. These writers,' said he, 'put me in mind of that 'ere boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar; well, they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin' and jokin' all in good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow; well, t'other would return it in airnest. "Oh," says the other, "if that's your play, off gloves and at it;" and sure enough, away would fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail.
"'No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to think Scriptur' intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. "Look at that 'ere Dives," they say, "what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus; and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that them folks will find it as easy to go to heaven, as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle?" Well, then, the rich think it all made for the poor—that they shan't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to them that's in authority. And as for them 'ere Unitarians,' and he always got his dander up when he spoke of them, 'why there's no doin' nothin' with them,' says he. 'When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over, nor get round, why they say "It ain't in our varsion at all; that's an interpolation, it's an invention of them 'ere everlastin' monks;" there's nothin' left for you to do with them, but to sarve them as Parson Possit detailed the boxer—lay right hold of 'em, and chuck 'em over the fence, even if they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for they ain't fit to live in no christian country at all.
"'Fightin' is no way to make converts; THE TRUE WAY IS TO WIN 'EM. You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, 'by a-crammin' a book down his throat, but you won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all covered over with Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, like a bridle that's real jam, all spangled with brass nails, but who knows whether it's right or wrong? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and warn't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd just ask myself WHO LEADS THE BEST LIVES? Now,' says he, 'Sam, I won't say who do, because it would look like vanity to say it was the folks who hold to our platform, but I'll tell you who don't. IT AIN'T THEM THAT MAKES THE GREATEST PROFESSIONS ALWAYS; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a-tradin' with your clocks away down east to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look out on them as cant too much, FOR A LONG FACE is plaguy apt to COVER A LONG CONSCIENCE—that's a fact.'"
No. XXV
Taming a Shrew.
The road from Amherst to Parrsboro' is tedious and uninteresting. In places it is made so straight that you can see several miles of it before you, which produces an appearance of interminable length, while the stunted growth of the spruce and birch trees bespeaks a cold, thin soil, and invests the scene with a melancholy and sterile aspect. Here and there occurs a little valley, with its meandering stream, and verdant and fertile interval, which, though possessing nothing peculiar to distinguish it from many others of the same kind, strikes the traveller as superior to them all, from the contrast to the surrounding country. One of these secluded spots attracted my attention, from the number and neatness of the buildings, which its proprietor, a tanner and currier, had erected for the purposes of his trade. Mr. Slick said he knew him, and he guessed it was a pity he couldn't keep his wife in as good order as he did his factory.
"They don't hitch their horses together well at all. He is properly hen-pecked," said he; "he is afeerd to call his soul his own, and he leads the life of a dog; you never seed the beat of it, I vow. Did you ever see a rooster hatch a brood of chickens?"
"No," said I, "not that I can recollect."
"Well then I have," said he, "and if he don't look like a fool all the time he is a-settin' on the eggs, it's a pity; no soul could help larfin' to see him. Our old nigger, January Snow, had a spite agin one of father's roosters, seein' that he was a coward, and wouldn't fight. He used to call him Dearborne, arter our General that behaved so ugly to Canada; and, says he one day, 'I guess you are no better than a hen, you everlastin' old chicken-hearted villain, and I'll make you a larfin' stock to all the poultry. I'll put a trick on you you'll bear in mind all your born days.' So he catches old Dearborne, and pulls all the feathers off his breast, and strips him as naked as when he was born, from his throat clean down to his tail, and then takes a bundle of nettles and gives him a proper switchin' that stung him, and made him smart like mad; then he warms some eggs and puts them in a nest, and sets the old cock right a top of 'em. Well, the warmth of the eggs felt good to the poor critter's naked belly, and kinder kept the itchin' of the nettles down, and he was glad to bide where he was; and whenever he was tired and got off his skin felt so cold, he'd run right back and squat down agin; and when his feathers began to grow, and he got obstropolous, he got another ticklin' with the nettles, that made him return double quick to his location. In a little time he larnt the trade real complete. Now, this John Porter (and there he is on the bridge, I vow; I never seed the beat o' that, speak of old Satan and he's sure to appear), well, he's jist like old Dearborne, only fit to hatch eggs."
When we came to the Bridge, Mr. Slick stopped his horse, to shake hands with Porter, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance and customer. He enquired after a bark-mill he had smuggled from the States for him, and enlarged on the value of such a machine, and the cleverness of his countrymen who invented such useful and profitable articles; and was recommending a new process of tanning, when a female voice from the house was heard, vociferating, "John Porter, come here this minute." "Coming, my dear," said the husband. "Come here, I say, directly, why do you stand talking to that Yankee villain there." The poor husband hung his head, looked silly, and bidding us good-bye, returned slowly to the house.
As we drove on, Mr. Slick said, "That was me—I did that."
"Did what?" said I.
"That was me that sent him back; I called him and not his wife. I had that 'ere bestowment ever since I was knee high or so; I'm a real complete hand at ventriloquism; I can take off any man's voice I ever heerd to the very nines. If there was a law agin forgin' that as there is for handwritin', I guess I should have been hanged long ago. I've had high goes with it many a time, but it's plaguy dangersome, and I don't pracTISE it now but seldom. I had a real bout with that 'ere citizen's wife once, and completely broke her in for him; she went as gentle as a circus horse for a space, but he let her have her head agin, and she's as bad as ever now. I'll tell you how it was.
"I was down to the Island a-sellin' clocks, and who should I meet but John Porter; well, I traded with him for one, part cash, part truck and proDUCE, and also put off on him that 'ere bark-mill you heerd me axin' about, and it was pretty considerable on in the evenin' afore we finished our trade. I came home along with him, and had the clock in the wagon to fix it up for him, and to show him how to regilate it. Well, as we neared his house, he began to fret and take on dreadful oneasy; says he, 'I hope Jane won't be abed, 'cause if she is she'll act ugly, I do suppose.' I had heerd tell of her afore; how she used to carry a stiff upper lip, and make him and the broomstick well acquainted together; and, says I, 'Why do you put up with her tantrums, I'd make a fair division of the house with her, if it was me; I'd take the inside and allocate her the outside of it pretty quick, that's a fact.' Well, when we came to the house, there was no light in it, and the poor critter looked so streaked and down in the mouth, I felt proper sorry for him. When he rapped at the door, she called out, 'Who's there?' 'It's me, dear,' says Porter. 'You, is it,' said she, 'then you may stay where you be, them as gave you your supper, may give you your bed, instead of sendin' you sneakin' home at night like a thief.' Said I, in a whisper, says I, 'Leave her to me, John Porter; jist take the horses up to the barn, and see after them, and I'll manage her for you, I'll make her as sweet as sugary candy, never fear.' The barn, you see, is a good piece off to the eastward of the house; and, as soon as he was cleverly out of hearin', says I, a-imitatin' of his voice to the life, 'Do let me in, Jane,' says I, 'that's a dear critter; I've brought you home some things you'll like, I know.' Well, she was an awful jealous critter; says she, 'Take 'em to her you spent the evenin' with, I don't want you nor your presents neither.' Arter a good deal of coaxin' I stood on t'other tack, and began to threaten to break the door down; says I, 'You old unhansum lookin' sinner, you vinerger cruet you, open the door this minit or I'll smash it right in.' That grigged her properly, it made her very wrathy (for nothin' sets up a woman's spunk like callin' her ugly; she gets her back right up like a cat when a strange dog comes near her; she's all eyes, claws and bristles).
"I heerd her bounce right out of bed, and she came to the door as she was, ondressed, and onbolted it; and, as I entered it, she fetched me a box right across my cheek with the flat of her hand, that made it tingle agin. 'I'll teach you to call names agin,' says she, 'you varmint.' It was jist what I wanted; I pushed the door tu with my foot, and seizing her by the arm with one hand, I quilted her with the horsewhip real handsum, with the other. At first she roared like mad; 'I'll give you the ten commandments,' says she (meaning her ten claws), 'I'll pay you for this, you cowardly villain, to strike a woman. How dare you lift your hand, John Porter, to your lawful wife!' and so on; all the time runnin' round and round, like a colt that's a-breakin', with the mouthin' bit, rarein', kickin', and plungin' like statiee. Then she began to give in. Says she, 'I beg pardon, on my knees I beg pardon—don't murder me, for Heaven's sake—don't, dear John, don't murder your poor wife, that's a dear. I'll do as you bid me; I promise to behave well, upon my honour I do—oh! dear John, do forgive me, do dear.' When I had her properly brought too, for havin' nothin' on but a thin under-garment, every crack of the whip told like a notch on a baker's tally, says I, 'Take that as a taste of what you'll catch, when you act that way like Old Scratch. Now go and dress yourself, and get supper for me and a stranger I have brought home along with me, and be quick, for I vow I'll be master in my own house.' She moaned like a dog hit with a stone, half whine, half yelp; 'Dear, dear,' says she, 'if I ain't all covered over with welts as big as my finger, I do believe I'm flayed alive;' and she boo-hoo'd right out like anything. 'I guess,' said I, 'you've got 'em where folks won't see 'em, anyhow, and I calculate you won't be over forrard to show 'em where they be. But come,' says I, 'be a-stirrin', or I'll quilt you agin as sure as you're alive; I'll tan your hide for you, you may depend, you old ungainly tempered heifer you.'
"When I went to the barn, says I, 'John Porter, your wife made right at me, like one ravin' distracted mad, when I opened the door, thinkin' it was you; and I was obliged to give her a crack or two of the cowskin to get clear of her. It has effectuated a cure completely; now foller it up, and don't let on for your life it warn't you that did it, and you'll be master once more in your own house. She's all docity jist now—keep her so.' As we returned we saw a light in the keepin' room, the fire was blazin' up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk as a parched pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no time. As soon as she took her seat and sot down, she sprung right up on eend, as if she had sot on a pan of hot coals, and coloured all over; and then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, I calculate I wrote that 'ere lesson in large letters anyhow, I can read that writin' without spellin', and no mistake; I guess you've got pretty well warmed thereabouts this hitch. Then she tried it agin, first she sot on one leg then on t'other, quite oneasy, and then right atwixt both, a-fidgettin' about dreadfully; like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost a little leather on the way. If you had seed how she stared at Porter, it would have made you snicker. She couldn't credit her eyes. He warn't drunk, and he warn't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as meechin' as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at his rebellion. The next day when I was about startin', I advised him to act like a man, and keep the weather gage now he had it, and all would be well, but the poor critter only held on a day or two, she soon got the upper hand of him, and made him confess all, and by all accounts he leads a worse life now than ever. I put that 'ere trick on him jist now to try him, and I see it's gone goose with him; the jig is up with him, she'll soon call him with a whistle like a dog. I often think of the hornpipe she danced there in the dark along with me, to the music of my whip—she touched it off in great style, that's a fact. I shall mind that go one while, I promise you. It was actilly equal to a play at old Bowry. You may depend, Squire, the only way to tame a shrew is by the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all along the coast of Kent in Old England, and he used to say there was an old saying there, which, I expect, is not far off the mark:
'A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree,The more you lick 'em, the better they be.'"
No. XXVI
The Minister's Horn Mug.
"This Country," said Mr. Slick, "abounds in superior mill privileges, and one would naterally calculate that such a sight of water power would have led to a knowledge of machinery. I guess if a Bluenose was to go to one of our free and enlightened citizens, and tell him Nova Scotia was intersected with rivers and brooks in all directions, and nearly one quarter of it covered with water, he'd say, 'Well, I'll start right off and see it, I vow, for I guess I'll larn somethin'. I allot I'll get another wrinkle away down east there. With such splendid chances for experimentin', what first-chop mills they must have, to a sartainty. I'll see such new combinations, and such new applications of the force of water to motion, that I'll make my fortin', for we can improve on anything a'most.' Well, he'd find his mistake out I guess, as I did once, when I took passage in the night at New York for Providence, and found myself the next mornin' clean out to sea, steerin' away for Cape Hatteras, in the Charleston steamer. He'd find he'd gone to the wrong place, I reckon; there ain't a mill of any kind in the Province fit to be seen. If we had 'em, we'd sarve 'em as we do the gamblin' houses down south, pull 'em right down, there wouldn't be one on 'em left in eight and forty hours.
"Some domestic factories they ought to have here; it's an essential part of the social system. Now we've run to the other extreme, it's got to be too big an interest with us, and ain't suited to the political institutions of our great country. Natur' designed us for an agricultural people, and our government was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin', orchadin', farmin', and what not. One evenin' I was up to his house, and says he, 'Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my old genuine cider? I guess I got some that will take the shine off of your father's, by a long chalk, much as the old gentleman brags of his'n. I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that; and Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride, at the expense of humblin' his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for I'd as lives he'd think so as not.' He was a real primiTIVE good man was minister. 'I got some,' said he, 'that was bottled that very year that glorious action was fought atween the Constitution and the Guerriere. Perhaps the whole world couldn't show such a brilliant whippin' as that was. It was a splendid deed, that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airth, and we can whip the British. It was a bright promise for our young eagle; a noble bird that, too; great strenth, great courage, and surpassing sagacity.'
"Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle, with a stick tied to its neck, and day and date to it, like lye-bills on the trees in Squire Hendrick's garden. 'I like to see them 'ere cobwebs,' says he, as he brushed 'em off, 'they are like grey hairs in an old man's head; they indicate venerable old age.' As he uncorked it, says he, 'I guess Sam, this will warm your gizzard, my boy; I guess our great nation may be stumped to produce more eleganter liquor than this here. It's the dandy, that's a fact. That,' said he, a-smackin' his lips, and lookin' at its sparklin' top, and layin' back his head, and tippin' off a horn mug brim full of it—'that,' said he, and his eyes twinkled agin, for it was plaguy strong—'that is the produce of my own orchard.' 'Well,' I said, 'minister,' says I, 'I never see you a-swiggin' it out of that 'ere horn mug, that I don't think of one of your texts.' 'What's that, Sam?' says he, 'for you always had a'most a special memory when you was a boy.' 'Why,' says I, that "the horn of the righteous man shall be exalted;" I guess that's what they mean by "exaltin' the horn," ain't it? Lord if ever you was to New OrLEENS, and seed a black thunder cloud rise right up and cover the whole sky in a it, you'd a thought of it if you had seed his face. It looked as dark as Egypt. 'For shame!' says he, 'Sam, that's ondecent; and let me tell you that a man that jokes on such subjects, shows both a lack of wit and sense too. I like mirth, you know I do, for it's only the Pharisees and hypocrites that wear long faces, but then mirth must be innocent to please me; and when I see a man make merry with serious things, I set him down as a lost sheep. That comes of your speculatin' to Lowell; and, I vow, them factorin' towns will corrupt our youth of both sexes, and become hotbeds of iniquity. Evil communications endamnify good manners, as sure as rates; one scabby sheep will infect a whole flock—vice is as catchin' as that nasty disease the Scotch have, it's got by shakin' hands, and both eend in the same way—in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin' further for us. It don't suit us or our institutions. A republic is only calculated for an enlightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin' line. That is an innocent and a happy vocation. Agriculture was ordained by Him as made us, for our chief occupation.'
"Thinks I, here's a pretty how do you do; I'm in for it now, that's a fact; he'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon, and he knows so many by heart he'll never stop. It would take a Philadelphia lawyer to answer him. So, says I, 'Minister, I ax your pardon, I feel very ugly at havin' given you offence, but I didn't mean it, I do assure you. It jist popped out unexpectedly, like a cork out of one of them 'ere cider bottles, I'll do my possibles that the like don't happen agin, you may depend; so 'spose we drink a glass to our reconciliation.' 'That I will,' said he, 'and we will have another bottle too, but I must put a little water into MY GLASS (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me, quite feelin', as much as to say, don't for goodness sake make use of that 'ere word HORN agin, for it's a joke I don't like), 'for my head hain't quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, Sam,' said he (openin' of another bottle); 'it's of the same age as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped sometimes to say which is best.'
"'These are the pleasures,' says he, 'of a country life. A man's own labour provides him with food, and an appetite to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, his wisdom, his power, and his majesty. There never was anything so true, as that 'ere old sayin', "Man made the town, but God made the country," and both bespeak their different architects in terms too plain to be misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue and the other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want; one is a ware-duck of nice pure water, and t'other one a cess-pool. Our towns are gettin' so commercial and factoring, that they will soon generate mobs, Sam' (how true that 'ere has turned out, hain't it? He could see near about as far into a millstone, as them that picks the hole into it), 'and mobs will introduce disobedience and defiance to laws, and that must eend in anarchy and bloodshed. No,' said the old man, raising his voice, and giving the table a wipe with his fist that made the glasses all jingle agin, 'give me the country—that country to which he that made it said, "Bring forth grass, the herb yieldin' seed, and the tree yieldin' fruit," AND WHO SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin' (I hope you get up airly now, Sam; when you was a boy there was no gittin' you out of bed at no rate), and at sunset, in the hymns which they utter in full tide of song to their Creator. Let me pour out the thankfulness of my heart to the Giver of all good things, for the numerous blessings I enjoy, and intreat Him to bless my increase, that I may have wherewithal to relieve the wants of others, as he prevents and relieves mine. No! give me the country. It's—' Minister was jist like a horse that has the spavin: he sot off considerable stiff at first, but when he once got under way, he got on like a house a fire. He went like the wind, full split. He was jist beginnin' to warm on the subject, and I knew if he did, what wonderful bottom he had; how he would hang on for ever a'most; so, says I, 'I think so too, minister, I like the country, I always sleep better there than in towns; it ain't so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither, and then it's a pleasant thing to set out on the stoop and smoke in the cool, ain't it? I think,' says I, 'too, Minister, that that 'ere uncommon handsum cider of your'n desarves a pipe, what do you think?' 'Well,' says he, 'I think myself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I got some real good Varginny, as you e'enamost ever seed, a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum; and none the worse to my palate, Sam, for bringin' bygone recollections with it. Phoebe, my dear,' said he to his darter, 'bring the pipes and tobacco.' As soon as the old gentleman fairly got a pipe in his mouth, I give Phoebe a wink, as much as to say, warn't that well done? That's what I call a most particular handsum fix. He can talk now (and that I do like to hear him do), but he can't make a speech, or preach a sarmon, and that I don't like to hear him do, except on Sabbath day, or up to Town Hall, on oration times.
"Minister was an uncommon pleasant man—for there was nothin' a'most he didn't know—except when he got his dander up, and then he did spin out his yarns for everlastinly.
"But I'm of his opinion. If the folks here want their country to go ahead, they must honour the plough; and General Campbell ought to hammer that 'ere into their noddles, full chisel, as hard as he can drive. I could larn him somethin', I guess, about hammerin' he ain't up to. It ain't every one that knows how to beat a thing into a man's head. How could I have sold so many thousand clocks, if I hadn't had that knack? Why, I wouldn't have sold half a dozen, you may depend.
"Agriculture is not only neglected but degraded here. What a number of young folks there seem to be in these parts, a-ridin' about, titivated out real jam, in their go-to-meetin' clothes, a-doin' nothin'. It's melancholy to think on it. That's the effect of the last war. The idleness and extravagance of those times took root, and bore fruit abundantly, and now the young people are above their business. They are too high in the instep, that's a fact.
"Old Drivvle, down here to Maccan, said to me one day, 'For gracious sake,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, do tell me what I shall do with Johnny. His mother sets great store by him, and thinks he's the makin's of a considerable smart man; he's growin up fast now, and I am pretty well to do in the world, and reasonable forehanded, but I don't know what the dogs to put him to. The lawyers are like spiders—they've eat up all the flies, and I guess they'll have to eat each other soon, for there's more on 'em than causes now every court. The Doctors' trade is a poor one, too, they don't get barely cash enough to pay for their medicines; I never seed a country practitioner yet that made anything worth speakin' of. Then, as for preachin', why church and dissenters are pretty much tarred with the same stick, they live in the same pastur' with their flocks; and, between 'em, it's fed down pretty close I tell you. What would you advise me to do with him?' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll tell you if you won't be miffy with me.' 'Miffy with you indeed,' said he, 'I guess I'll be very much obliged to you; it ain't every day one gets a chance to consult with a person of your experience; I count it quite a privilege to have the opinion of such an understandin' man as you be.' 'Well,' says I, 'take a stick and give him a real good quiltin'; jist tantune him like blazes, and set him to work. What does the critter want? You have a good farm for him, let him go and airn his bread; and when he can raise that, let him get a wife to make butter for it; and when he has more of both than he wants, let him sell 'em and lay up his money, and he will soon have his bread buttered on both sides. Put him to, eh! why put him to the PLOUGH, the most nateral, the most happy, the most innocent, and the host healthy employment in the world.' 'But,' said the old man (and he did not look over half pleased), markets are so confounded dull, labour so high, and the banks and great folks a-swallerin' all up so, there don't seem much encouragement for farmers; it's hard rubbin', nowadays, to live by the plough—he'll be a hard workin' poor man all his days.' 'Oh!' says I, 'if he wants to get rich by farmin', he can do that, too. Let him sell his wheat, and eat his oatmeal and rye; send his beef, mutton and poultry to market, and eat his pork and potatoes; make his own cloth, weave his own linen, and keep out of shops, and he'll soon grow rich—there are more fortin's got by savin' than by makin', I guess, a plaguy sight—he can't eat his cake and have it too, that's a fact. No, make a farmer of him, and you will have the satisfaction of seeing him an honest, an independent, and a respectable member of society—more honest than traders, more independent than professional men, and more respectable than either.'