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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premiAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la derniire image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole y signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuven^ dtre fiimds A des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est film6 d partir de I'angle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■i% ^■#<.;- SA '/. „ m ■-: ff :h-k W\ '3 0: # f'l WISE SAWS: OB, SAM SLICK m SEARCH OF A WIFE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS," "SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND," "SAM SLICK'S NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE." "Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas Gaudia." .... Juv. " The proper study of mankmd ia man." — Pope. NEW YORK : DICK AND FITZGERALD, No. 18 ANN STREET. 1^ i»'. '^M, ■.^, .''.* * -?«t # II ; -r", -^-w: ,r*i. »■ ?!»'•'•*>• <••'• m '▼ V f . . •« CONTENTS. INTRODUCTORY LETTER Page 13 CHAPTER I. CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT 20 CHAPTER II. STEALING A SPEECH 80 CHAPTER III. EVERY THING IN GENERAL, AND NOTHING IN PARTI- CULAR 87 CHAPTER IV. THE BLACK HAWK; OR, LIFE IN A FORE AND AFTER 48 • ' ^'- '■ '■ ■'■■■ CHAPTER V. ' % 4 ti' OLD BLOT^HARD t>0 . (ix) . » ! *■ 4 n Mill mm \ ' I ^' ■ X ""^ * CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. TiiE widow's son , 67 I CHAPTER VII. niE LANGUAGE OF MACKEREL 74 CHAPTER VIII. THE BEST NATUHED MAN IN THE WORLD 80 CHAPTER IX. THE BAIT BOX ' fc8 \ CHAPTER X. THE water-glass; OR, A DAY-DREAM OP LIFE 93 CHAPTER XL OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS 100 CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT 110 CHAPTER XIII. ; ^ THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE 120 CHAPTER XIV. AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE 132 *vr ■■\±_i^,- ', ,.J- , " r. f I ■;<■'• •■ .' ■ I «, ' ' **. .^ I*- ■* I* II CONTENTS. ' ^ i ki CHAPTER XV. .. . "* CHAT IN A CALxM 140 CHAPTER' XVI. THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST 147 CHAPTER XVII. THE WITCH OF ESKISOONY 158 CHAPTER XVIII. FERICHO BEYOND JORDAN 174 CHAPTER XIX. THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE ^ 188 J* • .: « CHAPTER XX. ''''- AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM 203 CHAPTER XXI. A SINGLE IDEA ., 213 CHAPTER XXII. AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OP REFORM 223 CHAPTER XXIII. , , ^ :# aOOSE VAN DAM 229 ,:■' 'Mi' W . -aLv'!' '"^ -aft- 'i ■mi ■ t '^ ■" . ■ ■'■'■■If ♦ . xii '^ " CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXIV. ' ,^ A HOT DAY 241 CIIArTER XXV. OUR COLONIES AND SAILORS 251 CHAPTER XXVI. ^ ' A PIC-NICK AT LA IIAIVE 263 CHAPTER XXVII. A NARROW ESCAPE 2H> ■Xk. n L, ^•' ^^^^m^-^ r:> h :, t k^ ^..1* in.], Sir" 11 » # J^"* INTRODUCTORY LETTER. S- Slickvilie, April, 186-. My Dear Squire, Since I parted with you I haye led a sort of wanderin', ramblin' life, browsin' here to-day, and there to-morrow, ainusin' myself arter my old way, studyin* human natur', gettin' a wrinkle on the horn myself for some that I give others, and doin' a little bit of business by the way to pay charges, and cover the ribs of my bank book ; not to say that I need it much either, for habit has more to do with business now with me than necessity. The hread of idle- ness in a gineral way is apt to be stale, and sometimes I consait it is a little grain sour. Latterly I have been pretty much to Slickvilie, having bought the old hum stead from father's heirs, and added to it considerable in buildin's and land, and begin to think sometimes of ma^ryin^ The fact is, it aint easy to settle down arter ilineratin' all over the world BO many years as I have done without a petticoat critter of owe's own for company ; but before I ventur' on that partnership co' ^n I must make another tour in the provinces, for atween you an^ me, I reckon they raise handsomer and stronger ladies than we c'o in Connecticut, although we do crack for everlastin' about beatin' all the world in our " geese, galls, and onions." Oh dear, when I think of them trips I had with you. Squire, it makes me feel kind of good all over ; but there will be amusement enough left for another tour, you may depend. Fun has no limits. It is like the human race and face j there is a family likeness among all the species, ))Mt thoy all differ. New combinations produce new varieties. Humour puts me in mind of the kaleidoscope, or pattern- makers' box ; give it a shake up, and there is a new figure every time — that is, if the box aint empty. If it is, you can neither shake anything in or out of it, as many a schoolmaster knows to hia cost. But a man who has an eye for fun sees it in everythin'— verily, even the demure Quaker catches and enjoys it. The worst of it is, it is hard to remember it long ; for the mind IS like a slate — one thing gets rub'd out for another. The only way is to enter it down at the foot of the day's work ; so I guess I '11 keep a journal, and send it to you. It would make a new book for you, such as " Wise Saws and Modern Instances," or *' Sam Slick in Search of a Wife," or some such name. 2 (13) - *, J»» V* \ 14 INTRODUCTORY LETTER "i?i:*' * There is a work called " The Ilorsj," and another called " The Cow," and " The Dog," and so on ; why should n't there bo one on *' The Galls V They aro about the most difficult to choose and to manage of any created critter, and yet there aint any dependable directions about pickin' and choosia* of them. L it any wonder then so many fellows get taken in when they go for to swap hearts with them ? Besides, any one can lind a gentleman that keeps a livcry-stablo to get him a horse to order; but who can say, "This is the gall for your money ?" No, Sir, it is a business that must bo done by yourself, and no one else. I guess this will be the last of my rambles, and I hope to see you while I am spyin' iato the wigwams in your diggins. 1 must say I feel kinder lonely here sometimes, tho' I aint an idle man nother, and can turn my hand to anythin' amost^ but still there is days when there is nothin' that just suits to go at to fill up the gap, and them's the times we want a friend and companion. I have spent some wet spells and cvcrlastin' long winter evenins lately in overhaulin' my papers completin' of them, and finishin' up the reckoain' of many a pleasant, and some considerable boisterous days passed in differei't locations since we last parted. I have an idee you would like to see them, and have packed them all np ; and if I don't meet you, I guess I'll give them to a careful hand who will deliver them safe along with my sayin's and doin's on this trip. I haven't methodized them yet ; they are promiscuous, like my trunk. When I put my hand in for u stock, in a general way, I am as like to pull out a pair of stockius as not, and when I fish for Btockins, I am pretty sure to haul up a pocket-handkercher. Still they are all there, and they are just as well that way as any other, for there aint what you call a connected thread to them. Some of them that's wrote out fair was notched down at the time, and others are related from memory. I am most afeard sometime, tbo' I had'nt ought to be, that you '11 think there is a bit of brag here and there, and now and then a bit of buncum, and that some things are made out of whole cloth altogether. It 's nateral for others to think so, Squire ; and who cares what the plague they do think ? But you ought to know and be better sartified, I reckou, than to git into a wrong pew that w«y. I shouldn't wonder a morsel, if you publish them, that folks will say my talk and correspondence with great statesmen to England and sich big bugs, was the onlikeliest thing in the world. Well, so it is, but it is a nateral truth for all that. Facts are stranger than fiction, for things happen sometimes that never entered into the mind of man to im ^ine or invent. You know what my position was as attacM to our embassy at the court of St. James Victoria, and that I was change when embassador went to Oxford and made that splendiferous speech to the old dons, to advise them h 11 INTRODUCTORY LETTER. IS to turn Uuitarians, and made a tour of the country and spoko like a tcn-horso steam-engino on agriculture, at tiio protection dinners ; and it was ginncrally allowed that his was the best orations on the sub- ject ever heard, tho* it's well known to homo he couldn't tell a field of oats from a field of peas, nor mangels from turnips, if he was to be stoned to death with the old Greek books at tho college, and buried under the entire heap of rubbish. And you know that I waa head of the Legation also, when he was absent in Franco a-sowin' some republican seed, which don't seem to suit that climate. I told him afore ho went, that our great nation was the only place in the world where it would ripen and bear fruit. Republics, Squire, like some apples, thrive only in certain places. Now, you can't ent a Newtown pippin that's raised in England, and blue-noses hfivo winter fruit to Nova Scotia that keeps all the year round, that \\c can't make nothin' of at Rhode Island. Theory and practice is fwo different things. But he was a collegian, and they know more aboni the dead than the liviu', a plaguy sight ; but that is neither hero nor there. Well, rank is no obstacle in our way, tho* it would be in yourn (for we claim to be equal with the proudest peer in the realm), and then the book you published under my name did the rest for me. It is no wonder then I was on those terms of intimacy with the uppererust people to London (and bashfulness rubs off in America long before the beard comes ; in short, we aint much troubled with it at no time, that's a fact). Now, that will explain matters to you. As for other people, if they get on a wrong track, they will find it out when they reach the cend of it, and a night spent in the woods will cool their consait. No, I wouldn't sort the articles, only select them. Where tho story is too long, clip a bit ofi"; where it wants point, pass it over; but whatever you do, don't add to them, for I am responsible and not you f and if I have got some praise in my time, I have got my share of abuse too, I can tell you. Somdiow or another, folks can^t bear to hear the truth when it just convenes to their own case ; hut when it hits their neighhours, oh ! then there is no eend to their cheerin' , pattin' you on the hack and stuhoyin* you on. Father was very fond of doggin' other folks' cattle out of his fields, but when neighbour Dearborn set his bull-terrier on ourn, the old gentleman got quite huflfy, and said it was very disrespectful. What old Colonel Crockett said to me was the rail motto for an author aa well as a statesman : " First be sure you are right, Sam," said he, "and then go ahead like Statiee." Them that you don't select or approbate put carefully away. They will serve to recal old times to my mind, and I must say I like to think of the past sometimes. Travellin' is always pleasant to me, because I take the world as I fir'i ir. A feller who goes through life with a caveson in one haml \ li n r ■"S':! % 16 INTRODUCTORY LETTER. and a plaguy long whalebone whip in the other, a halter, breakin* of every sinner he meets, gets more hoists than thanks in a gineral way, I can tell you. My rule is 'o let evei ; one skin his own foxes. It aint worth while to be ryled if you can help it, especially at things you can't alter or cure. Grumblin' and groulin' along the road, findin' fault with this and scoldin' at that, is a poor way to travel. tt makes a toil of a pleasure. Now, an Englishman goes through the journey of life like a bear with a sore head, as cross as Old Scratch himself The roads are bad, the bosses bad, the inns bad, and the bill extortionate. He can't eat homemade bread, the eggs aint poached right, the ham is hard, and he hates pork as bad as a Jew. The veal is staggerin' bob, and the mutton rank or poor, the tea is nothin' but chopped hay and water; cotton sheets, tho' they be white and clean, are only fit for summer horse-cloths ; he can't stand a taller candle — the smell pysins him. A wood-fire puts his eyes out, roasts one side of him while the other is raw and cold. Even the galls aint pretty; if they blush when he stares at them, he sais it is a bad sign — they know too much; and if they don't, he sais they are forrard and impedentj but he goes right off into a fit at seein' me turn an egg out into a Ti'ine-ghiss. Whfen I see him in one o' them are tantrums, a twitchin' of his face and a jerkin' about of his limbs arter that fashion, like one possessed by St. Vitus' dance, I call for iny horse, and say to the gentleman that keeps the inn, " Friend," says I, "get some help, and hold the poor misfortunate stranger's head, arms, and legs down so he can't hurt himself ; clap a piece of wood across his mouth to keep him from a-bitln' of his tongue, give him a large dose of spirits of turpentine, and put him to bed. That's all that can be done for him, for he is incurable. Good mornin'," and I makes tracks. Such a critter as that returns home commonly with no more knowledge and manners than when he set out. The imn ) movin " Well, he put the spectacles in his pocket ; and as he stooped down to chalk the trunks, sais he : * Verily thee is different from other men, in all t^c. doeth ; seein' I can take no fees, thee hast adopted this mode to obviate a hard law. If these trunks contained smuggled goods, of a sartaiLty thee wouldst not fetch them here, so I will mark them.' " No, President, we must wink, or put on solid gold spectacles, like B gelow Pineo, and look without seein'. I would prefer going down in one of our coastin' vessels, careless-like, slippin' into this harbour, and dodgin' into that, and while the captain is tradin' here and tradin' there pick up all the information I want. If we had them fisheries, they would be worth more to us than California." " I think so too," sais he. " I had no idea of their immense ex- tent until lately. I aotilly saw a barrel of Nova Scotia mackerel V ♦I 22 litfAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. the otlier day, with the Halifax brand on it, away up to the Kocky Mountain. Fact, I assure you. However, consider yourself on pay from this time, six dollara per day for wages, and six dollars nioro for travellin' expenses ; and if you have to charter a vessel, draw for the amount." " Presidcn't," sais I, " that's what I call handsum now. But as I shall be gone fur a considerable spell, for I want a trip of pleasure as well as business, I will take care there is no extra charge." " Well, Uncle Sam, Sir," sais he, " is able and willin' to pay for ail J and your report will carry great weight with it, for it is well known you have spent a great deal of time in the provinces, and know the people better than any of our citizens do. To-morrow you will receive your commission, and letters accreditin' you to our con- suls, and to the governors of the different colonies." When this affair was settled, sais he, " Mr. Slick, did you know Lord Horton, him that's Lord Aylsford now, when you was to Eng- land?" " Knowed him well," sais I. " Is he as smart a man as folks say ?" ' "Guess he is all that, and more too," sais I, " he is a wfcole team ' and a horse to s^are — that man. He was among the last persons I visited when I was leavin' the embassy ; the last man I heard speak in the Commons, and the last I supped with to London. A night or two afore I left town, I went down to the House of Commons. I don't often go there. It's stupid work, and more than half the time routine business, while the other half of it is a re-hash of old speeches. Twice laid dishes I can stand, salt fish and corn beef twice laid I sometimes consait is as good as whcTi first cooked; but old speeches served over and over again go again the appetite. However, having nothin' above common to do, and hearin' there was to be a bit of a flare-up, down I goes, and who should be speakin' but Horton, him thoy now call Aylsford. What the plague they change the name for that way, I don't know. If they want to promote a man to a higher degree, such as baron (and Lord knows some of their heads are barren enough) to be an earl, and an eail to be a marquio, and so on, well and good — but the name ought to be kept, for the change only bothers folks. " Who in the world would suppose now that Lord Dundonald waa the same man as the great Lord Cochran — the greatest naval hero, next to Nelson, England ever had. It's an actual fact, I knew him s, whole year afore I found it out, and only then by accident) fo^, like all brave men, he never talke of his cverlastiu' battles. But this is neither hero nor there; the English have a way of their own, and It is no use talkin' to theui, obstijiate thuy are, and obstinate they will be to the eend of the chapter." " lilxaotly," said the President, " that's my idea to a T, when Lor»l .1' CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. 2d^ Amphlitt was out here some years ago, I knowed him. Gineral Ichabod Shegog came to me one day, and sais he, ' There's an Eng- lish lord to the Treemont ; would you like to go and have a look at him V '<'Well, I would,' sais I, Hhat is a fact, for I never see one in my life ; but how shall we rig up V <( ( Why,' sais he, ' I guess I'll go in a general's uniform, and you had better go full fig as a grand master mason, for the dross 13 splendid.' "And we did so; the lord was gracious and affable, and a con- siderable smart man, I tell you. He seemed a good deal struck with our appearance, and I thought he felt a little mean, seein' that he warnt dressed for company, for he had nothin' on but a common frock Coat, plaid trowsers, and buff waistcoat, coloured neckcloth, and great thick-soled shoes, and short gaiters. I guess he had to sail pretty close to the wind, for they do tell me the nobility are all over head and ears in debt to England. Heavens and airth how the Gin- eral raved when he came out. "< What,' sais he, ' that little fellow a lord ? have they no better timber to Britain to make one out of than that ondersized half-starved looking critter ? Well I vow I never want to see another lord, 'til I see the Lord Jehovah.' " But Shegog warnt much of a man of the world, and, what's v/uss, he is so chock full of consait, he never will be. The lord was short, there's no doubt of that, but he could not help it, for he would have growed more, I do suppose, if he could. Lord Amphlitt was not a bad name for the poor critter — was it ? a small book is called a pamphlet, and he was one-eighth smaller than that ; but a small house, after all, well filled, is better than an ewptg palace. " Now who the plague would have guessed that that Lord Am- phlitt is the same as Lord Scilly ? If it warnt for the Scilly Light on the chart, I should never recollect his name, 'til the end of time ran out. But go on." " Well, as I was sayin', Horton had the floor, and if he didn't talk it into 'em, it's a pity. He's a pretty speaker, the best I've heard in England by a long chalk, and the best proof that what he said hit hard, was you might have heard a pin fall. It's a different kind of speakin' from what our great guns use, and I aint quite sure I don't like it better. There is less oration and more business in it, it's all to the point, or good guards and blows well planted. He was at a rival lord, and he sartaiuly did make the little man look small enough, you may depend. " Well, the next day, we had a grand dinner at the embassador's Diplomatists, statesmen, and the gracious knows who all were there. Well, among them was Lord Horton ; but I couldn't get a chat witk \ IHl i (I f 24 CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. him then, for dinner was served as soon as he arrived, but I managed it in the evenin'. " Lord Dunk Peterborough, or some such name, sat alongside of me, and took to praisin' our great nation at a great pace. It fairly took me in at first, I didn't see his drift; it was to draw me out, and set me a bodstin' and a braggin' I do suppose. And I fell into the trap before I knowed it. " Arter trottin* me round a bit, sais he, *■ Your minister is a worthy representative of your glorious country. He is a schol;ir niid a gentleman. One of his predecessors did nothing but comptm. If you showed him a pack of hounds, they were nothing to Avli:it, hun- dreds had in Virginia and the southern States. If a fine tree, it was a mere walking stick to an American one. If a winning race-, horse, he had half a dozen that would, as he expressed it, walk away from him like nothing; and so on. Well, there was another who could talk of nothing but satinettt coarse cotton, the slave trade, and what he used to call New England domestics. It is refreshing to find your nation so well represented.' " All this was said as civil as you please, you could not fault his manner a bit; still I can't say I quite liked it. I knew there was gome truth in it; but how little or how much I couldn't tell, not bein' much of a scholar. Thinks I to myself, I'm a man more used to givin' than takin' pokes, md never could keep 'em long without returnin' them with interest. So go on, I'll see what you are about, and then I rather guess I can take my part with you. " Sais he, ' I'm told his Latin is very pure.' "'It's generally allowed there can't be no better,' sais I, 'there is nobody to Cambridge — our Cambridge I mean — that can hold a candle to him.' "'It's fully equal,' sais he, 'to the generality of the monastic Latin of the middle ages.' " I was adrift here : I didn't like the expression of his eye — it looked quizzical ; and I must say, when larned subjects come on the carpet, I do feel a little grain streaked, for fear I shall have to con- fess ignorance, or have to talk and make a fool of myself Thinks I to myself, if his Latin is good, why didn't he say it was as good as what the Latins spoke or wrote, and not stop half-way at what Minister used, I am sure, to call the dark ages ? However, I'll look quizzical too, and put my best foot out. "'As good as that of the middle ages?' sais Ij 'why, that's not Bayin' much for it either. Aint he a middle-aged man himself? and hasn't he been at it all his life ?' " ' Well, Slick,' sais he, ' that's uncommon good ; that's one of the best ttings I have heard for a long time, and said so innocently too, as if you really meant it. Capital, by Jove ! Come, I lik« that amazingly.' 3 ,H *l CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. 25 "Think's I to myself, it's more than I do, then; for T didn't tniderstand you, and I don't know the meanin' of what I said myself. But ril pay you off binieby, Master Dunk — see if I don't. " Sais he, lowerin' his voice, confidential-like, * what a pity it is that he is a Unitarian !' " Now, thinks I, ray boy, I've got you off cJead languages in upon livin* subjects, I'll play with you as a cat does with a mouse. " * He wouldn't be an honest man, if he warn't,' sais I ; ' he'd bo beneath contempt.' " < Well,' sais he, ' I never argue about religion, and will there- fore not pursue the subject farther; but it creates a great prejudice here.' " 'Religion,' sais I, 'my good friend,' lookin' all amazed, 'why, what in natur' has religion to do with it ? It has neither art nor part in it.' " 'Exactly,' said he, 'that's the very point. People here think a Unitarian little better than an infidel.' " ' Then you might,' sais I, 'just as well say a Tory was an infidel, or a Whig, or a Protectionist, or a Free Trader, or anybody else ; there would be just as much sense in it. I believe in my heart the English will never understand us.' " ' Pray, may I ask,' said he, ' what you call a Unitarian ?' " ' Sartainly,' sais I ; 'for when folks go to argue, they ought first to know what they are talkin' about ; to define their terms, and see they understand each other. I '11 tell you in a few words what a Unitarian is.' "Just then. Minister speaks up, (and it's a curious thing, talk of the devil, and he is sure to heave in sight directly), ' Pass the wine, Mr. Slick, I'll help myself.' ' And push it on, your Excellency,' sais I; ' but I never pass wine — it ain't considered lucky in Slick- ville.' This made a laugh and a divarsion, and I continues : ' You Bee, my Lord, our general Government is a federal one, exercisin' sartain powers delegated to it by the separate States, which, with this exception, are independent sovereignties. Every State is a unit, and those units form a whole ; but the rights of the separate States are as sacred as the rights of the Government to Washington ; and good patriots everywhere stand by their own units, and are called Unitarians; while some are for streugthenin' the general Govern- ment, at the expense of the individual sovereignty, and these are called Federalists ; and that's the long and the short of the matter. And what on airth religion has to do with these nicknames, I don't know.' " Sais he, ' I never knew that before ; I thought Unitarians were • "eligious sect, being another name for Socinians, and I am very giad to hear this explanation.' #& ii ti >i J (, ' 26 CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. " Thinks I, I hope it will tlo you good ; it is as good as a middle- age Latin, at any rate. " After sonic further talk, sais he, * Your Minister is not a very easy man to get awjuaintcJ with. Is he a fair specimen of the New Englanders ? • for he is very cold.' " Hero's at you again, Master Lord Dunk, sais I ; you ain't quite Bold yet, though you arc bespoke — that's a fact. ' Well,' sais I, ' he is cold, but that's his misfortune, and not his fault : it's a wonder to me he aint dead long ago. He will never bo quite thawed out. The , chill went into his marrow.' '* ^ What chill ?' sais he ; ' is not that his natural manner ?' " ' How can you ask such a question as that, my Lord ?' sais L • VVhen he left College as a young man, ho entered into the ice trade to supply New Orleens with ice, and a grand spec he made of it j but it near upon cost him his life. He was a great hand to drive Dusiness, and if you want to drive business with us, you must work yourself. Ho was at the ice lake day and night amost, a handlin' of it ; and the last vessel he loaded that year he went in her him- self. His berth was near the companion-ladder, the best berth ia the ship, but it jincs on to the hold, and the chill of that ice cargo, especially when he got into the hot climate of New Orleens, so pene- trated his jints, and limbs, and marrow, he has never been warm since, and never will; he tells me it's extendin' upwards, and he is afeard of his heart.' " Well, he roared right out ; he haw-hawcd as loud as a man cleverly and politely can at a gentleman's table, and says he, ' That's the best contrived story to excuse a cold manner I ever heard in my. life. It's capital, upon my word !' sj^' " * So it was. Slick,' said the President ; ' it was well done. That was a first-rate bam ! J3ut I must say, some of the New-England strait-laced folks arc mortal cold — that's a fact, and the worst of it is, it ain't intermittent; they ai*e iced down e'en amost to the freez- in'-point, and the glass always stands there. The ague is nothin' to it, for that has its warm fits ; but some of them folks have tho cold fit always, like Ambassador. No wonder the Puritans tolerated wine, rum, gin, brandy, and all that, and forbade kissin' j it was, I suppose, to " ' Componnd for sins they were inclined to, By damning those they had no mind to.* My niece to Charlestown told me, that when her father's brothtx came from New Bedford, and kissed her, he was so ^old it actilly gave her the toothache for a week — fact, I do assure you, Slick ; folks may say what they like, a cold manner never covered a warm heart; hot water imparts a glow even to a silver teapot; but go on, I beg pardon for interrupting of you.' '^\ ' M en AT WITH TTfE PRESIDENT 27 as a man "'There are stranger things, Lord Uunk,' sais I, *in real life than in fiction; but an Englishman won't believe in anythin' that aint backed by a bet. Now I'll tell you a story will astonish your weak nerves, of a much stronger case than the Ambassador's chill, and I'll stake a hundred dollars on its truth with you. You've heard of General Montgomery,' sais I, 'haven't you, and his attack on Quebec ?' " < I cannot say I have,' he said. ' I think there was a French- man of the name of Montcalm, who distinguished himself at Que- bec ; but Montgomery — Montgomery, no, I never heard of him.' " ' The fact is, the English got such a tarnal lickin' in the revo- lutionary vv^., they try to get rid of the subject by sayin' it was a little provincial afi*air, and pretend to know nothin' about it. Well, Montgomery attacked it in winter, and pretty nearly carried it under cover of a snow-storm ; but the garrison was prepared for him, and \;hough it was awful cold weather, gave him such a warm reception, that he was about to retire, when he and his two aidecamps were killed at one shot. Ho left a good many poor fellows behind him killed, wounded, and prisoners. Among them that was nearly froze to death, in fact he never was the same man afterwards, was General Peep — he was then Colonel Peep, and served as a volunteer. He was nearly stiff when they hauled him in, and then they thrust him into a cold stone-room, without a fire, and artcrwards sent him to England, where he remained till the peace. That winter campaign nearly fixed his flint for him. Talk of Ambassador's chill, bad as it is, it is nothin' to his. One of his legs never had any more feelin' in it artcrwards. He used to keep a tavern down to Slickville.' " ' What ! a General keep a tavern,' said he, and he opened his eyes wide, and wrinkled the hair of his head with astonishment. " ' To be sure,' said I, ' why not as well as any other citizen ? That's the reason our taverns are so good, because they are kept by men of honour. ^ u can't say as much as that of every tavern in London, I know. Well, I've often seen the old General sittin' out on his stoop smokin', but the cigars and liquor of his house never cost him anything; he made them all out of his leg that had no fcelin' in it. He used to bet folks he could run a pin further into his leg than they could into theirs, and in course he always won the day — and didn't they jump, and screech, and scream with the pain, when they tried to outdo him ! Once I saw him win a hogshead of brandy from the Captain of a Cape Coddef that' had just arrived from France, by bettin' him he would run a pin clear in up to tho head, and walk across the room with it ; and lie did it, although I must say he made a plaguey wry face too, as if he had a little over- done itr "'Well, that beats all natur',' said the Captin; 'but Gineral, that ere calamity fell on you in your country's cause; take tho s*. \ ;»' |i lllli m .ii [jMB HI • H UB HH m i i- i ill 1 28 CHAT WITH THE PRESIDENT. brandy, it will niako your h(* fool o^rain like a Christlun's log, and your toes tingle too if you tnko enough of it; iiiid whon that is done Bcnd UK) word, and wo Capo (Jod skippors will olub and Bond you anothor ono.' 'Jt " ' You doubted,' saia I, ' my lord, about his Exoellcncy's chill* ^, what do you ihink of this case ? Aint it a whopper?' " ' I don't for a moment doubt your word, Mr. Sliok ; and there- fore rray don't misunderstand me,' said he ; 'but there is some mis* take in it. It is incredible ; for if the lojjj bad boon so devoid of all feeling it would have mortified. There nni.st have been souio slight of liand in this, otherwise it does not appear impossible.' *' * Well,' sais 1, ' if I make a mistake it's my fault, I'll bet you a hundred dollars that Minister corroborates it.' " * Done I' sais ho. " * And done I' sais I ; and we shook hands. ' " Just before the room was vacated. Lord Horton and Lord Dunt Peterborough boin' the only two loft, I saw it was my time. Horton bad been talkin' to Minister, and had just made his scrape, and was for quittiu'. When ho reached the door he turned and paused. ^ " * Mr. Slick,' sais he, ' one word with you, if you please.' '* That was grknd; it was just what I wanted; a diversion like in my favour. '' ' In one minute, my lord,' sais I : ' only ono minute.' " ' Minister,' sais I ; did you know General Peep V u 'Very well,' he said ; for ho was a man of few words. " ' Do you rocolloct the remarkable power he had,' said I, of bcin* ible to thrust a pin into his leg without flinchin' ?' " *I have scon him do it a hundred times.' " ' You are sure it penetrated ?' said I. " * Certain,' said he ; * quite positive.* " And then he kind of inclined his body forward, as much as to Bay, ' I guess you may go now,' and we took the hint, bowed, and made off. " * Are you satisfied, my lord ?' sais I. " * I must be,' he answered ; ' the terms havo been complied with, but I cannot understand it yet. It is the most wonderful thing I ever heard. I'll send you a cheque in the morning for the amount of the bet. Good-night.' " ' Beg pardon, Lord Horton,' sais I, ' for keepin* of you waitin',, but I was just refcrrin' to Minister to decide a bet between Lord Dunk and me.' " * What day can you come and dine quietly with me ?' said ha * I want to talk to you very much on colonial subjects, which no one understands half as well as yourself.' " * Sorry, my lord,' sais I, ' but I am engaged every day until my cieparture, which is by the next steamer.' C- OnAT WITH f, HE PRESIDENT, 29 « * Ah I* Baid ho, ' that's unfortunate. Could you manage to come and take Hupper with mo to-morrow, for I always cat lightly before going to IkhI i* I dino out, but will return early — say half-past ten ? " ' With pleasure,' sais I. ' I am goin* to-morrow where I rauRt i go, but wiiere I needn't stay ;' and wo shook hands and parted. " There is some satisfaction in talkin' to a man like that, ho can talk up to you, or talk down, as the case may be ; the other fellow thinks he knows everything, but ho don't know this : It requires a yood slock of wit to set up for a toay ; and that thmigli quizzin' U very pleasant, it's a game that two can plat/ at. " In the morniu' up comes a draft for one hundred dollars, which I sent back in a note. ^ ^ " ' Dear Lord Dunk, "*I return you the cheque, which 1 cannot think of retainin* under the circumstanoos. The leg which was the subject of the bet was as good as the monastic Latin of the middle ages, and like it, •vas a tolerably good imitation, for it was a cork one. " * Yours always, " ' Samuel Slick.* " Now that's what I call sending as good as you get.' '^ Exactly," said the President ; '' it don't do to let benighted foreigners take airs before our citizens, relative to any of our depart- mental officers.' My ambassadors may not dance as elegantly as European courtiers, but they can walk round them in a treaty, that's a fact. I think, wo may fairly boast, Mr. Slick, and it's a fact we have a right to be proud of, and a sign of great intellectual supe- riority, that we have the best of the bargain in every treaty we have made with every nation in the world, from the English down to the Indians. It's a great feather in our cap of Liberty, Mr. Slick, for it is the feather that forms at once the warrior's plume and the diplo- matist's pen. You must help me to a hint how to get these fish- cries. Now they are going to build railroads through the provinces, I propose to grant, as an equivalent for the fisheries, leave to use our lines for the mails, if they prefer it to their own. We must ofier tiomething like an omelette soufftS, that looks large, thougn it is ouly a mouthful of moonshine. You take, Siiek, don't you?" '* A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse," t-ais I. "Oh no," he continued; "our Latin aint good, and our English [aint good — at least so they say; but there is one admission at least they must make, they have felt that our swords are good. But go Ion," said the President, " I want to hear about Lord Horton. I jcount it a great privilege to hear you talk, for you are a man who [travels with your eyes open always." " I tell you whai, President" sais 1, ^^ seein is helievin' ; hut ii Uiint them that stare the most who see Hie best ahcays." 3* it*« \ im ! '■ i 80 STEALING A S 1» £ E C H CHAPTER 11. .' ' STEALING A SPEECH. " Well/* sais I, continuin' my confab with the President the next mornin*, "the day after the bet, I was up to my eyes in business, gettin' the papers in my charge in order for quittin' the embassy. We all met at lunch ; it was our great meal, for it was the hour, you know, we was used to feed at home, and arter all it seems most proper, for natur's dinner beP rings at one. Dinner, therefore, was only a matter of form arter tbat, and used for show and hospitality, Charapain was our only liquor, for that's what we use to our hotels, where it is the best and cheapest wine ; there it is the dearest, but who cares? Uncle Sara pays for all. I suppose you don't know that gentleman," sais I, " President ;" and I gave him a wink. " Well, I'll tell you who he is. " You have heard of John Bull, it is the gineral name of the English, as * Frog ' is of the French j and a capital name it is, for he has all the properties of that brute. Breachy as Old Scratch, breakin' down neighbours' fences, runnin' off with other bulls' wives, bellowin' at nothin', ready to fight everybody and everything, and so stupid, if he sees red cloth he makes right at it, full chizel, cross-grained, onsartain, and dangerous, you can neither lead him, nor coax him, nor drive him. The only way to manage him is to hopple him, and fortunately he is pretty well hoppled with the national debt. It's a weight to bis heels tliat spiles his runnin', and keeps him to home to paw up the dust and roar for his own amuse- ment. Well, Uncle Sam is us. Uncle is a nice word, aint it. Sir ? It'? a word of kindness and affection. lie is a brother of your father or your mother j and if ho has no chicks of his own, pets all his nephews and nieces, makes them presents, sends them to school^ pays for their visits, and when he dies leaves all his/eady rhino to them. There is nothin like an uncle, but ' Uncle Snm ' is the president of all uncles. He adopts the whole nation, and pays all the household of the State. Ho is pretty well imposed upon too sometimes. They take it out of him whenever they can, but pretend all the time that what they do is for his good and benefit, and swear they haint one mite or morsel of selfishness in 'em. It's all for ' Uncle San).' They'd die by him \f it was necessary, but they had a jjlaguey sight sooner live by him, that's a fact. Our first uncle was Sam Wash- ington, and arter that we called them all Sam. Sister Sail's chil- dren — the little cunnin' ones — call me ' Uncle Sam,' cause I pays for them all. Souj<3 of these days [ hope I shall bo Father Sum, STEALING A SPEECH 81 and then I shall see if the tune of these critters is altered and ne"W set with variations. " But I was speakin' of the lunch. Sais Preserved Fish to me the other attache — awful name that, aint it ? The fact is, the old ! Fishes of New Hampshire were Puritans of the strictest school, makin' Sunday a day and a half long, by beginnin* at twelve o'clock on Saturday ; though Preserved has got bravely over that, he drinks, as he says, ' like a fish/ swears all the newest invented slang oaths, and plays cards every night, and the devil all the time. Wcl) some hundred and fifty years ago, a baby or spawn Fish like to have died of the croup or the cholic, or some ailment or another, but got through it, and his mother called him that was so mercifully saved ' Preserved ;' so there has been a Preserved Fish in the family ever since. Well his father, 'Old Presarved,' has great interest in Var- mont, and Ma'ne, and New Hampshire, where he makes cookin* stoves with the barrel-oven top, at his celebrated factory at Maple Sugar Grove, and sets them up himself, which fetches him into every man's house. The women all swear by the stoves (and they are a first chop article, that's a fact), and in course by him, and the men ditto their wives. He can influence all the elections there up and down, and get his son on the embassy, as one of the paid attaches. If he would take care of himself that critter would get on, but he won't, he can't change his natur'. A berrin' remains a herrin', and a dolphin a dolphin, and a skate a skate, and this 'odd Fish' will be the same, till a shark or porpoise sucks him in, head, gills, and tail. " * Well,* sais Presarved to me, * if your friend Lord Dunk was here to-day, he wouldn't say 'Uncle Sam' was cold, I know. See how he smiles, and smirks, and rubs his hands ; depend on it he feels good all over. And that reminds mc of your bet'; you don't intend for to go for to send that feller's cheque for the hundred dollars back, like a nateral born fool, do you ?' " ' Sartainly, I do,' sais I. ' He was bit, and it don't convene to the character of our embassy to do the thing that's mean.' " ' The character of the embassy be damned,' said he. ' I railly thought you knowed too much of the world for that. Why you ara the only Connecticut man I ever met with that even ever heard of a conscience, except 6n a Sunday.' " ' Well, if you stay here much longer,' said I, ' I guess the cha- racter ^f our embassy »vill be what you'd wish it. But if you had Buch a hook in your gills, Master Fish, you'd be glad enough to open your mouth, and have it taken out, and then be thrown back in the water, I know.' " ' Slick,' said he, ' if ever you dare to make fun of my name ['11—' ^ '•' * Take a glass of wi^e with you, say, that's the way to finish the n STEALING A SPEECH. II' '• M aentence, for I shall only have two or three days more at the furdest, and that's too short to quarrel in.' " * Well/ said he, ' I believe you are half right. Scipio, some champain.* "*But what makes Uncle Sam so good-natured to-day?" said I. tc I Why/ said he, * some college don called here, a sort of crack in?n, a double first, I think they called him ; and he and Uncle Sam had a discussion about some Greek passage. Since he went away the old coon has been up to his eyes in Greek ; and I rather guess, from his manner, that he has found out that he is right.' " Sais I, amovin' up to his eend of the table, ' What does your Excellency think of the Latin of the middle ages ?" " Sais he, *Sam, don't call me, when we are located and domesta- cated together, 'your Excellency,' it's all bunkum, you know.' " ' Well,' sais I, ' we are in a land of titles. Sir, a place where folks thinks a great deal of 'em ; and if we d(5n't do it when alone, perhaps we will be too free and easy in public' " * Well,' sais he, 'and it's no use talking. People do like handles to their names, perhaps there is some truth in that.' " '^Besides,' sais I, we approbate it all over our great nation. Do you recollect the horscferry above Katskill on the Hudson V * ' Perfectly,' said he. "'And old Rip Van Hawser the ferryman, and his two splendid galls Gretchen and Lottchcn. Oh, my sakes! weren't they whole teams of themselves, and a horse to spare ? That wicked little devil Gretchen was as quick as a foxtrap, and as strong as a man. If she clinched you, it warn't easy to break her hold, I tell you. I recollect a romp I onct had with her.' " ' Well never mind that, at present,' sais he, good-naturedly j *but I recollect old Rip Van Hawser perfectly,' " ' But don't you mind his darter.s ?' sais I ; 'for it caused more than half the people to cross the ferry jr t to gifc a squint at them beauties.' " ' We won't mind them just now,' said he ; ' but what of old Bip?' "'Well,' sais I, 'just to show you how universal titles are even in our almighty evcrlastin' country, and how amazin' fond fellers are of 'em, ril tell you what Rip Van Hawser said. " ' The first time I ever crossed over that ferry,' sais old Rip to mo: 'Gineral,' sais he, 'just stand near your horse, for it's more rougher as common to-day ; for you sec and ondcrstand and know that when the wind blows so like the teyvil den it is rough, and when do wind go down deu do wave go right down too more fae>'>r than it got up. So, gineral, just stand near him/ " ' I aint no gineral,' sais I. " ' Well den, colonel/ sais he. STEALING A SPEECH. like handles ivliat of old " 'I aitit a colonel, nor an officer at all/ " ' "Well den judge/ sais he, 'just hold on to do rein. " ' 1 aint a judge or a lawyer either,' said I. " ' Well den bishop,' said he. " ' I am no bishop nor minister either/ " 'Oh den, squire.' " ' Out agin,' I said, laughing, ' I am no squire.' " Den wliat de teyvil are you V said old Rip, lookin' up and restin' on his oars. " ' Nothin',' sais I. " ' Den,' said he, ' I charge you notin' for ferriage. I carry you free gratis, for you are de fust man that has crossed for a week that had no title.' "'And not a penny would he take, but insisted upon my goin' into his house. Dear me, I am amazed you don't remember those galls ! There wasn't too much of the old Dutch build about them. They were — ' " Here Ambassador put in his oar with a quiet larf. * I didn't gay I didn't remember the young ladies. But what question was that you asked about the Latin language ?' " ' Why, your Excellency,' said I, ' what sort of Latin was that, that was written in the middle ages ?' "'In general barbarous and poor; but there was some good, and that i? but little known ; perhaps Dr. Johnson knew more of their literature than any man of his day.' " ' Tlien it is no great compliment to say of a man's Latin, that it is about as good as that of the monastic Latin of the middle ages ?' " ' Decidedly not,' sais he ; ' quite the other way. But tliat re- minds me of a curious story. You know the little square-built nobleman, that always sits and looks the peer? (How singular it is, Sam, the Whigs are the haughtiest in private, and most tyrannical in public life, of any folks here !) He goes by the nickname of the ' military critic,' on account of his finding fault with everything the Duke did in Spain, and always predicting his defeat and ruin. Well, when the lleforni Bill was before Parliament, everybody made flash speeches, and among the rest, the ' great military critic' He made a Latin quotation, of which the reporter could only catch the sense, as he had never met with the lines before ; so when he came to the newspaper office, he told them its purport — that which is agitated is durable, but that which is unmoved decays. Well, the editors couldn't recollect itj they ran over ever so many indexes, time was pressing, and. they had to try their hands at making that meaning into Latin verse. The next year the puzzle was found out; the noble peer was about as much of a scholar as a military critic ; he fobbed it from Boswell's ' Life of Johnson,' who quoted them out of the fulness of his store of learning. Theso are the lines/ said i' i W STEALING A SPEECH. he, and he repeated them so fast they sounded like one everlastin' word. " ' Give them to me in pencil, please, Sir/ said I, ' for I couldn't repeat them an hour hence. It aint that Latin is so heavy to carri/y hut you have such a slippery hold of it.' "* Here the I^resident broke in agin with one of his confounded in- terruptions. "Slick," sais he, "it's a pity your fathcF hadn't sent you to College, as mine did me ; you would have been a great man, if he had, and perhaps filled uiy shoes." And he looked good all over, and twisted his whiskers with his fingers with as much plea- sure as a feller does when he thinks he looks rather killin'. Thinks I to myself, a man may be a president, and no great shakes either, for after all he is only the lead horse of a team. He has got the go in him, and that's all; but he can't hold back, which is a great matter, both in statesmen and horses. For if he slacks up,' he is rid over by those behind him, and gets his neck broke — ho must gf or die. I didn't say it tho', for it don't do in a general way to blart out all you think. But I observed, "President," sais I, "that's i question I have often thought of, and on the whole, I think it i.s more better than as it is. If I had been a scholar, like Ambassador I should have consorted with scholars — for like loves like in this world — and been above the level. I>ein' under it, as all the masses are, I've mixed with them, and have a wider rim to my wheel. If I don't make so deep a mark on the road, 1 move easier, and do less mischief. While others stick in tho mud, I move on. Poor dear old Minister, Mr. Hopewell, was always at father to send me to College; but father used to say tho' ministers knew the way to heaven, it was the only one they did ; but they knew no more about the cross-roads of this world than children. So what does he do but go to Boston, under pretence of selling a horse, and walk into the office of old 1-iwyer Leonard Pie. 'Lawyer,' sais he, 'I want your advice.' " Well, old Pie, who was a pretty crusty fellow, and a knowin' old coon too, put his big grey eyes on him, and held out his hand, without speakin' a word, as much as to say, if you want me to talk, drop a fee in, if you please. Lawyers aint like coachmen, they take their tip be/ore they start, t' others wait till the Journey is over. But father warnt born yesterday, he'd cut his eye-teeth as well as Pie, It occurs in Boswell'a It ia given as a quota- * I have looked out the passnge referred to. 'I Life of Johnson" (Vol. iii. p. 271, 3rd edition). tion from Janus Vitalis, and is as follows : " Immota labe.?cunt Et quoB perpetuo sunt, agitata maneut." The only diflFerence between the ambassador's copy and the extract, ap« pears to be an emendation of his own, for he has written it Labajcunt. STEALING A KPIECH. e everlastin* 00 what does he do, but take hold of it with his own hand. 'It ainte law, Squire, I want,' said he. " < What the plague do you want then ?" said Pie, tryin' to get his hand back j but the old gentleman held on like grim death to a dead nigger. " ' I want to know,' sais father, ' the advantage of goin' to Cam- bridge.' " * I'll tell you,* sais Pie. ' A college education shows a raan how devilish little other peojile know* " ' 'Zactly,' sais father ; ' that's just my opinion ; thank you, Sir.' And he give his hand such a squeeze, he forced the ring into the bone of the other finger, and nearly started the blood under his nails. It set the old lawyer a jumpin' and a squeeiin', like anything. " < Confound you/ sais he, ' what do you mean by that V " ' Nothin,' sais father, ' but a mark of my friendship.' And while lawyer was a-lookin' at his hand, father made his scrape and walked off. " ' Found it out,' said the old man, when he returned. • ' '< < What, father V sais I. " ' College education,' sais he. ' The only good it is, is to show- how devilish little other folks know.' " I believe he was right. President, after all; for you see our best scholars' Latin is no better than the ' monastic Latin of the middle ages.' " " Slick," said the President, " the advice of a lawyer without a fee, all the world knows, is no good. If the old man had dropped a dubloon in Pie's hand, he would have said : ' The advantage of a college education, is to show you how much more you know than other people.' " " Perhaps so," sais I. " But now you have been to Cambridge, and I haven't, can you tell me the Latin or Greek word for india- rubber shoes r Why, in course you can't. If you could, and ad- vertised them that way, who the plague would know what you meant ? Better as it is, Sir. It warn't your Greek made you a president, or what little Latin I picked up at night-school, that made me an attache. But I'll proceed, if you please, with the story. Where was I ? Oh ! I have it. It was that part where I said it warnt that Latin was so heavy to carry, but that you have such a slippery bold of it. " 'Now,' sais I, 'your Excellency, that reminds me of a trick I p ayed a feller ouct to Truro, in Nova Scntia. There was to be a great temperance meetin', and a lectar, and resolutions moved, and what not. Well, there was a most consaited goney in the same house (tho* that's nothin' very strange neither, scein' Blue-nose is naterally a consaited critter), and as he was to second the tir^t reso- lution, had spent evenin' arter even in* in writin' of his speech, and M STEALING A SPEECH. Ill 'flioniin' arter mornin* in gettin' it by heart. Well, the day t!ia great mectin' was to be, off he starts down to the lower village, with a two-horse waggon, to bring some of the young ladies to hear his eloquence. "Well, as soon as I seed him off, I goes to his desk, takes his speech, locks the door, and walks up and down the room, a readin' of it o/er and over, like a school-lesson, and in about two cr three hours had it all by heart; and that, that I coi 'dn't repeat verbatim, havin' a pretty loose tongue of my own, I could give the sense and meanin' of. But I had it in a manner all pretty slick. Then I puts the speech back in its place, takes a walk out into the fields, to recite it aloud, where none could hear, and T succeeded most beautiful. He returned, as I intended he should, before I went back to the house ; and when I went into the room, he wag walkiu' up and down, a rautterin' over his speech; and when be stuck, lookin* at the writin'. " ' Hullo,' sais I, ' are you back already ? How's the ladies, and where are they ?' » " ^ Hush !' said he. 'Don't talk to me, that's a good feller; it puts me out, and then I have to cipher it over again. The ladies are below.' " ' Well,' sais I, ' I'll go down and see them ;' and, to make a long story short, the meetin' was organised, the lecture was read, and the first resolution was moved. I mind that it was a very sensible one, and passed unanimously, I don't exactly recollect the words, but its substance — 'llesolvcd, That it is the opinion of this meeting, that those who drink nothin' but water, will have no liquor to buy.' I rose to second it; and there was great cheerin', and clappin' of hands, and stampin' of feet; for I was considerable popular amorg the folks in them diggins. At last, silence was obtained; and I commenced with Horatio Mulgrave's speech, and delivered it woi^ for word. Well, it warn't a bad speech for the time and place Considerable flowery — mixed with poetr}' to please the galls, and Bol^mncolly and tearful for the old folk ; sometimes they cheered, and then they cried. Arter I had got on a piece, Mulgrave sprang up, half distracted with rage and surprise ; and takin' hold of me by the coat, ' Why, confound it, Slick,' sais he, ' that's my speech. I wrote it myself.' " ' Pooh !' sais I, ' don't be foolish.' " * Well, I never,' said he, ' in all my born days ! This beats tUo dev' What a Yankee trick !' 'fl said this quite loud. So I stopped short, and paused, and look^ i ound. " 'Gentlemen and ladies,' sais I, 'Mr. Mulgrave sals T am speakin' his mind, and not my own ; and that it is his oration, and not mine, [t's strange our minds should be so much alike ; for if it is actilly the case, I must be makin' a very poor speech, 1 can tell you. So^ with your leave, I'll sit down.' ftVERYTniNQ IN GENERAL, ETC. 87 11, the day tho v^cr village, with dies to hear his » his desk, takes vn the room, a in about two cr coi Idn't repeat '. could give the all pretty slick, ilk out into the nd T succeeded hould, before I e room, he was ; and when he the ladies, and good feller; it in. The ladios and, to make a •e was read, and I a very sensible ilect the words, )f this meeting, iquor to buy.' ind clappin' of Dopular amorg )tained; and I ivered it woi^ no and place the galls, and they cheered, ilgrave sprang hold of me by my speech. X " ' No, no,' sais they ; * go on, go on.' ♦'Well, I went on, and finished; and when I had done, I turned round, and said out loud to him, ' Now, Sir, you say I have spoke your niiod ?' '< ' So you have,' sais he. 'It's a trick — a cursed Yankee trick!' " I come pretty near increasin' the size of the critter's head for that, but I bit in, Sais I, ' Ladies and Gentlemen, is that fair to a stranger like me, that could positively chaw him up, only he don't like the taste of the coon V " ' No, no,' sais they, ' it aint fair.' "■ 'Well,' sais I, 'I'll tell you what is fair, and that is turn and turn about. You say I spoke your mind, Sir ; now do you speak mine, when you move the next resolution ; and see if it won't be the best speech you ever made since you was born.* Creation, how folks larfcd ! ' Now,' sais I, amovin' off, and settin' down, ' take the floor.' "Well, he got up, and scratched his head — 'Ladies and Gentle- men,' sais he, 'ahem! that speech is my speech; I made it; and this is a trick ;' and down he sot. " Well, I jumped up, and sais I, 'If his mouth has been picked of his speech, a thing I never heard tell on before, it aint been picked of his tongue, for that's safe and sound ; but I'll move the resolution for him, so as to keep things astirrin';' and then I give them one of my ramblin', funny sort of s|)eeches, with capital stories, that iUustrated everything but the resolution; and it was received with immense applause. Mulgravc was only on a visit to Truro, so nest day he returned to Halifax ; and to this time, nobody under- stands a word about the story.' " "Well, I never heard that anecdote before," said Uncle Sara, risin'. "Take another glass of wine. I have heard of plagiarisms on all sorts of scales, from purloining a quotation, as the 'great mili- tary critic' did, and borrowing ideas, down to using printed sermons, as many clergymen do ; but this is the first time I ever heard of *stealinc/ a speech!' " This beats the d paused, and T am speak in' and not mine. if it is actilly Ttell you. So, CHAPTER III. EVERYTHING IN GENERAL, AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAll. " President," sais I, " I am afraid I am takin' up too much of fonv valu;ible time, and really I don't want to bore you." " Bore me ! pray don't say that," said he, " I like to hear you amazingly; it's better than a printed book, for I can ask questiona I ii EVERYTHING IN ORNERAL, as you go along, and join in the chat with observations of my own, which can't be done t'other way." Thinks I to myself, that's just the disagreeable part of it, for interruptions spile all; but when a feller has just given me a snug travellin' job onasked, and done the handsome thing, it aint any great return arter all, to let him put his oar in sometimes, even if he does catch crabs now and then, as the sailors say, and half cover you with spray. " Exactly," sais I. " I count it a great profit to have the benefit of your remarks; for a man don't rise to the tip-top of the truck- head of the mast of the ship of state as you have, President, without onderstandin' the ropes, that's a fact. For the statesman's ship is diiferent from the merchant's ship in this; you can't jump in at the cabin-window in one, as you can if you are the owner's son in the other, but must begin before the mast in a regular way, for then you know what every hand's work and duty is, and how to keep 'em at it." " There is a great deal of truth in that, Mr. Slick,'' said he. " 1 sarved my time to larn politics, first to town mectins, which I call the statesman's nursery, then at corporations and mass meetins; arter- wards in state legislatures and conventions, and wound up for the finishin' touch in Congress, besides larnin' the word of command in volunteer companies, and sarviu' a campaign agin the Florida Indgians. Heroes are at a premium, and sages at a discount with us. Throwin' others in the shade makes one stand out the prominent figure him- self, as Artimus Wheelock, the great Americon painter, used to say. I think you understand that beautiful figure of speech, Mr. Slick, for if I don't disremeraber, you are a dub at paiutin' in iles yourself, aint you ?" " Rather a daub," sais I, with some pretended diffidence, for that is a subject I rather pride myself on. " You are too modest, Mr. Slick," said he, quite patronizin' like : " you hide your light." Modest, sais I to myself; c me that aint bad. If I aint hanged till that charge is proved, I guess my neck is safe from a rope, at any rate. Modest ! Oh, Lord ! and I thought I should have haw-hawed right out. " Well, President," sais I, " I ought to be a modest man, that's a fact; for I've had some highsts in my day, when goin' too confident on slippery ground, that was enough to shake the consait out of any man, I caa tell you. Oh, what a rise the great Daniel Webster took out of me onct. He sold me, that's a fact, and almost sent me down south like a nigger. I felt streaked enough, you may depend. It is a caution to sinners, I do assure you, and may be a Wdrnin' to others." "Slick," said President, "Danel was a man that c^ld beat ui AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAR. d9 mizin' like ; Wdrnin to both down in market, so he could buy us at hia own price, and then puff us off, so that he could sell us ut our own valiation, and make a handsome spcckelutioiv of it. And yet, great as he was, somehow or another he never could mount the box of the state-coach and get bold of the ribbans, as I have: nohow he could fix it;" and he fitreiglitened himself up, while he swallowed down the juice of that bit of brag. " But let's hear about Lord Horton aud the great Danel." "Well," sais I, "I kept my appointment with Horton, and as luck would have it, we arrived at the street-door just at the same time. " < Why, Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'what a punctual man you be!* " ' Punctuality,* sais I, * my lord, is the soul of business. There is an old sayin', * Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves.* Now take care of the minutes,' sais I, ' and the hours will take care of themselves. Pounds is made up of pence, >nd hours of minutes. Attention to one aims money for me, and )be other saves it. These two rules will make any man rich j and in ^act, my lord, they have made me considerable well to do in this tyrorld, as times go.* " English folks. President, aint like ourn, they rather like to see you hot forget what you be, or what you have been. Peel used to mind them now and then in his speeches of the spinnin'-jenney, and it always took well. I consait myself it was a little bit of brag, but it an- swered his purpose any way, and was popular. " ' I am a clockmaker,' sais I, ' my lord, and I ought to know the valey of time. If I hadn't the right beat myself it would soon be all day with me. The half hours that's lost a whitlin', a smokin*, and a loUin' about with your chair tilted back on its hind legs, and your feet over the back of another, lookin' out of the winder at nothin', and a twirlin' your thumbs while your awaitin' for breakfast or dinner, or what not, would larn a man a language, or a trade. But what in natur's the use of my talkin* this way to you ? You mind an appointment, because it aint perlite to keep folks awaitin'; but what is time to you ? You was born with a silver spoon in one hand, and a silver fork in the other, and can jist spend your time as you like. You must excuse me a talkin* such nonsense, but the fact is, I have acquired a habit, as I travelled thro' Nova Scotia, of tryin' to preach a little go-ahead into those everlastin' sleepy Blue-noses, that I forget sometimes, and treat other folks, that don't want 'em, to some of my old saws.' " ' Wise saios call them, Mr. Slick,* said he; ' I like to hear them amazin'ly; I like plain, practical truths, uttered in a plain, familiar way; they appeal to men's common sense.' "And he went on and praised my looks 'n a way that aint no matter; I kinder felt it waa a little overdone, and for a man of my \. «0 EVERYTHING IN GENHRAL, M 11 !'!1: 1, *»•* consait to tbmk so, is sayin* a good deal. So I won't put it down, or folks might think I was makin' out my own appraisement. ' Well, well,' sais I to myself, ' there's all sorts of ways of soft sawderin', too, aint there ? He is a politician, and if he don't know how to lay it on, it's a pity. He intends his whitewash shall stick, for ho has mixed a little refined sugar and glue with it.' *• 'But you are mistaken,' sais he, 'about my having ray time at ray command. IL'i/h stations have high duties. Much is required of therHf to whom much is f/iven. Lordly castles are besieged or be- trayed, while the wooden latch of 'poverty secures the lowly cottage. The sleepless, anxious pilloio is stuffed with down, tvhile the straw pcdlet is blessed tcith sound sleep. My hours of toil are more, and my labours harder, than those of my hinds. It is the price we pay for wealth, and the tax levied on rank.* *' " Slick," sais the President, •' them's noble sentimentc ; I appro- bate and concur them with all my heart. Was they all bunkum, or genuine, do you suppose ?" "The real genuine article," sais I; "if they hadn't a been, I wouldn't a taken the trouble to listen to him." " Well," sais he, " they are elevated sentiments them, but they are just also. I feel myself Providence has reposed in me a high and responsible trust, in guidin', governin', advancin*, restrainin', and happyfyin' this great nation." Pooh ! sais I to myself, don't be silly, for he was agoin' to make me blush for him, and a blush is a thing that has not improved my looks for years. " Yes," sais I, "it makes one tremble to think of it," and I went right on. " ' Yes,' said Lord Horton, ' the public have a claim upon rae for ay services.' " ' Well,' sais I, * I heard you settle one of the claims on you last night to the House, and I rather guess,' sais I, ' that somebody that you was a dressin' of, that shall be nameless, feels like a boy that's histed on another lad's back, and that's a gittin' the cow-hide hot and heavy. It was a capital speech that, a real fust chop article.' Thinks I, you patted me on the back jist now about my looks, and I'll rub you down with the grain a little about your speech. But he didn't seem to mind it; either he was used to praise, and kinder tired of it, or else he knew it was all true as well as me, or wanted to talk of something not so parsonal. I saw it was no go, for I can read a man as plain as a book. Tradin' about as I have been all my life, has made me study faces, the eye, the smile, the corner of the mouth, tiie little swelling out of the nostril, and the expressions that pass over the countenance, like lights and shades, when scatterin' clouds are flyin' over in a bright sunny sky. It's a fine study, and I must say I delight in it. m AND NOTUING IN PARTICULAR. Al *me to them and disburden themselves of their troubles, and get consolation, if they pay well for it; but there is one point in which they don't treat them like priests; they don't confess all their sins; they sup- press them, and often get themselves and their counsel into a scrape by it, that's a fact. Now I'll tell you how I am sure I am agoin' to gain my cause. But first help yourself, and then pass the wine.' " Well, first I took one bottle, and turned it up on eend, and deuce a drop was in it. " * Try the other,' sais he. "And I turned that upside down, and it was empty too. Our eyes met, and he smiled. Sais he, * I was illustratin' your pswsive soft-sawder; I didn't remind you that you was wrong, when you didn't drink. As you advised, I didn't oppress you with my supe- riority ; but I set you oft' talkin' about human uatur', of which I guess I know perhaps as much as you do. I knew I have won you for ever by that delicate attention. I think I am sartin of the Slickville vote, for I gave you the uppermost seat, and took the eecond myself.' "Well, I couldn't help larfin, I swear. 'Squire Danel,' sais I, *I owe you one for that; I call that a rail complete rise. I am sold."^ 4A EVERYTHING IN QENKn* r m. Ifk III I". i ill' "A very good story," said Ilorton. "I like that, there- is so much dry humour in it; it's a very cliur.icteristic story that." "A feller," sais I, "my Lord, that has wrestled through life as T have, must naturally have got a good many falls, and some pretty heavy ones too, afore he larnt the right grips and the proper throws, that's a fact. " * Well/ says Danel, ' ring the uell, please } and,' sais he, 'waiter, more wine. I'll tell you how I know I am going to win that cause. I told you, Sam, there was a road to every man, if you could only find it. Now, the road to a judge is the most difficult one on earth to discover. It aint a road, nor a bridle-way, nor a path hardly. It's a trail, and scarcely that. They are trained to impartiality, to the cold discharge of duty, and when on the bench, leave their hearts to home, except in a criir^'nal case. They are all head in Court; they are intrenched in a sort of thick jungle, so that it is almost impossible tu get at them. Still, judges are only men, and there never was but one perfect man ia the world. " ' Did you mind that little judge that sat there to-day, lookin* as sour as if he had breakfasted off crab-apples, sauced with red pepper and vinegar ? Well, ho aint a bad lawyer, and he aint a bad man. But he is a most disagreeable judge, and a most cantankerous chap altogether. I have bagged him to-day ; but it was very difficult play, I assure you. You can't soft-sawder a judge, he is too esperienced a man for that ; the least spatter even of it would set him against you; and you can't bully him, for ha is independent of you, and if he submitted to such treatment, he ought to be impeached. Now, old sour-crout has decided two cases on the branch of law that was under consideration to-day, pretty analogous to my ease, but not ex- actly. Well, my object is to get him to view them as governin' mine, for he is not always quite uniform in his views, but how to do that without leanin' too strong on his decisions, was my difficulty. So I tcuk a case that he had decided on a collateral branch of the subject, and that I examined, criticised, and condemned pretty se- verely. He defended his ground strongly, at last I gave in ; I only touched it, for it warn't pertinent to take off the appearance of throwiu' the lavender to him. Then I relied on his two other deci- sions; snowed their ability, soundness, and research off to great ad- vantage, without folks knowin' it. - The jBrst slap I gave him sounded so loud, while people was sayin' I was rueuin' my cause, and had lost my tact, I was quietly strokin' down the fur on his back, and ticklin' his funny-rib. Ring the bell, please. Waiter, the bill.' "Well, hearin' that, I took out my purse to pay ray half the Bhot. " * Don't violate your own rule, Slick,' sais he, * of passive soft- aawder; when I am wrong don't set me right, don't oppress me by your (I won't gay superiority), but your equality. Let me be fooJ AND NOTHING IK PARTICULAR. 45 enough to occupy the first seat, and do you take the second, you will win me for life.' " ' S()|uire Danel,* sals I, ' I am sold agin ; I believe in my soul you would sell the devil.' " * Well,' sais he, ' I would, if I could find a purchaser, that's a fact ; but I'm thinkin Napoleon and Kossuth would be the only two bidders. The first, I am afeard, would confiscate the debt due me, and the other would pay for it only in speeches, take it out only in talk. Now, not having bought the devil yet, I won't spefculate on him.' "Well, the bill came in, and he paid it; and when the waiter made himself scarce, sais he, ' Mr. Slick, now and then I admit a friend (not in public life) to a talk, and the interchange of a glass j but,' said he, * soft-sawder here or there, I never admit him to the privilege of paying half the bill.' Just as he put his hat on, and was going out of the door, he turned, and sais he, ' Is that active or passive soft-sawder, Sam V " ' Neuter,' sais I. " ' Give me your hand,' sais he. ' That's not bad ; I like it, and I like your talk; but recollect, there are folks in this country besides yourself that icent't born yesterday.^ " Well, I was alone : 1 lit a cigar, and threw myself back in the chair, and put my feet upon the table, and considered. ' Sara,' saia I, ' you are sold ; and you didn't fetch much either. You wr-e a fool to go to talk wise afore the wisest man we have. You ar3 like minister's rooster : your comb is cut, and your spurs chopped off. When they grow agin, try to prac^^fi with your equals only. It was a great lesson : it taught me the truth of Ae old sayin' of mother's, ^Sam, don^i teach your grandmother to claj) ashes.' " * Well,' said his Lordship, * that is a curious story, Mr. Slick, and an instructive one too. . The quiet drollery in American humour delights me beyond measure.' " ' There is a part of that lesson my Lord,' sais I, * with all due deference, you ought to learn.' He kind of shook his head, and looked puzzled wliat to say. Sais I, * I know what you mean — thai it's popularity huntin'', and beneath your station.' " ' Not exactly,' said he, smiling; but looking as if a civil answer was sent for, that wouldn't come. " ' Well,' sais T, ' my L'^'d, it's a proof of knowledge and skill. Man is man. and you must study the critter you have to govern. You talk to a child like a child, to a boy like a boy, and to a man like a man. You don't talk to all men alike; you '^on't talk to Lord John and your footman the same, do you V " * Certainly not,' sais he. " * Well, then, you must know the world you have to govern, and talk to folks so that they can onderstand you. The House of Com '~ 46 EVERYTHING IN GENERAL, \m M i ■ill !lfiS;l! ;iiM mens aint the people of England. That was the grand mistakt Peel made : he thought it was, and studied it accordingly. What was the consequence ? lu my opinion, he knew mere about tho feelings, temper, tone and trim of the representatives, aad less of tho represented, than any person in the kingdom. That man did tnon to lower the political character of the country than any statesman since Walpole's time. lie was a great man, I admit; but unfor- tunately, a great man's blunders are like accidents in powder-maga- eines — send everything to the devil amost. There is a sliding scale in men's reputations now : he not only invented it, but taught them how to regulate it according to the market. But let byegones be byegoucs. What can't be cured, must be endured. To return to where I was, I say agin, the House of Commons aint th 3 people of England.' "'Very true,' said his Lordship. " * Well,' sais I, ' since the Reform Bill, that House don't do you much credit. You talk to the educated part of it, the agitators there don't talk to you in reply; they talk to the people outsiJe, and have a great advantage over you. A good Latin quotation wiU be cheered by Lord John Manners and Sir Robert Inglis, and even Lord John Russel himself; but Hume talks about cheap bread, unevarsal suf- frage, vote by ballot, no sodgers, no men-o'-war, no colonics, no taxes, and no nothin'. Well, while you are cheered by half-a-dozen scho- lars in the House, he is cheered by millions outside.' " ' There is a great deal of truth in that observation, Mr. Slick * said he; * it never struck mo in that light before — I see it now ; and he rose and walked up and down the room. ' That accounts foi O'Connell's success.' • " ' Exactly,' sais L ' He didn't ask you for justice to Ireland, expecting to convince you ; for he knew he had more than justice to Ireland, while England got no justice there; nor did he applaud the L'ish for your admiration, but that they might admire him and them- selves, liis speeches were made m the House, but not addressed to it; they were delivered for the edification of his countrymen. Now, though you won't condescend to what I call wisdom, but what you call * popularity huntin' and soft sawder,' there's your equals in that House that do.' ">foi- it aint nice work for them that don't like it — and the paf&HlM aint very euticin' to any but legular old skippers, I asked him to gjye^ me a cast coastwise, as far as the Gut of Canso, where I would go ashore for change of air, and amuse myself arter ray own fashion, " Have you had experience. Sir '/" sais he, and hie fivce lit up with a sickly smile, like the sun on a tombstone. "No," sais I, '' 1 never was on board a fishin' vessel afore." He eyed me all over attentively for a minute or two, without sayin' a word, or movin' a muscle. When he had finished his ex- amination, he turned up the whitea of his eyes, and muttered "igno- rant, or impudent, perhaps both." " I guess you can go," sais he ; " but mind, Sir, wo start to- night." Well, this warnt very encouragin', was it? I'd half a mind to give him up, and go to Maine, and sarch for another vessel, for the pleasure of your cruise depends entirely on your companions. It aint like beiu' on land ; there the world is big enough for us all, and if you don't like the cut of a fellow's jib, you can sheer oft", and give him a wide berth ; but in a vessel there is only the cabin and the deck, and the skipper actilly seems as if he was iu both places llfii" BO THE BLACK HAWK; N h 11 at once. And what's wuss, he's master and you aint; he fixes tha hours for meals, the time for lights, chooses his own subjects for chat, and so on. You hear a fellow sayin' sometimes — I'm only a passenger. How little the critter knows of what he is talking, when he uses that cant phrase ! V/hy, everythiu' is sum-totalized in that word. Skipper is employed, and you aint. It's his vocation, and not yourn. It's his cabin, and no one else's. He is to hum, and you aint. He don't want you, but you want him. You aint in his way, if you don't run like a dog atween his legs, and throw him down ; but he is in your way, and so is everybody else. He likes salt pork, clear sheer as he calls it, and smacks his lips over it, and enjoys his soup, that has fat and grease enough sw^immin' on it to light a wick, if it was stuck in it; and cracks hard biscuits atween his teeth, till they go off like pistols; makes a long face when he says a long grace, and swears at the steward in the midst of it; gets shaved like a poodle-dog, leaving one part of the hair on, and takin* the other half off, lookin' all the time half-tiger, half-lurcher, and resarves this fancy job to kill time of a Sunday. Arter which he hums a hymn through his nose, to the tune the '' Old Cow died of," while he straps his razor, pulls a hair out of his head, and mows it off, to see if the blade is in trim for next Sabbath. You can't get fun out of him, for it aint there, for you can't get blood out of a Btump, you know ; but he has some old sea-saws to poke at you. If you are squeamish, he offers you raw fat bacon, advises you to keep your eyes on the mast-head, to cure you of dizziness, and so on. If the wind is fair, and you are in good spirits, and say, " We're getting on well, captain," he looks thunder and lightning and says, " If yoi7 ■; ink so, don't say so. Broadcloth,' it aint lucky." And if it blows like great guns, and is ahead, and you say, " It's unfortu- nate, aint it?" he turns short round on you and says, in a riprorioua voice, " Do you think I'm a clerk of the wcathei, '"ir ? If you do, you are most particularly, essentially, and cojifounatJly mistaken, that's all." If you voted for him, perhaps you have interest with him; if so, tell him "The storm staysail is split to ribbons, and you'll trouble him for another;" and then he takes off his norwester, strikes it agin the binnacle io knock the rain off, and gig-gogglcs like a great big turkey-cock. If you are writin' in the cabin, he says, " By your leave," and without your leavC; whops down a great yaller chart on the table, all over your papers, unrolls it, and sticks the corners down with forks, gets out his conipasses, nnd works his mouth accordiu' to its legs. If he stretches out its prongs, out go the corners of his mouth pro- portionally; if he half closes them, ho contracts his ugly mug to the same size ; and if he shuts them up, he pusses up his lips, and closes his clam-shell too. They have a sympathy, them two, and work OR, LIFE IN A FORE AND AFTER 51 together, and they look alike, too, for one is brown with tobacco, and the other with rust. The way he writes up the log then is cautionary. The cabin aint big enough for the operation, out go both legs, one to each side of the vessel ; the right arm is brought up scientific like, in a semi- circular sweep, and the pen fixed on the paper solid, like a gate-post j the face and mouth is then all drawed over to the left side to be out of the way, and look knowing, the head throwed a one side, one eye half closed, and the other wide open, to get the right angles of the letters, and see they don't foul their cables, or run athwart each other. It is the most difficult piece of business a skipper has to do on board, and he always thinks when it's done it deserves a glass of rum, and such rum too — phew ! — you can smell it clear away to the forecastle amost. Then comes a long-drawn breath, that has been pent in all the time. This is going on till the dangerous pen-naviga- tion was over j and then a pious sort o' look comes over his face, as much as to say, " Thank fortin' that job is over for to-day ! It's hard work that." So he takes a chair, puts one leg of it on the toe of his boot, claps his other foot agin its heel, and hauls his boot oflf; and so with the other, and then turns in and snores like an old buffalo. When a feller like that banks up, it's generally for all day, that's a fact. Oh yes, there's no fun in sailing with a stupid skipper like that; the pair of you look like a sheep and a pig in a pasture, one is clean, and the other is dirty ; one eats dainty, and the other is a coarse feeder, swallows anything ; one likes dry places, the other enjoys soft mud and dirty water. They keep out of each other's way, and never make no acquaintance, and yet one is a sociable creature, and likes to keep company with the cow or the horse, or anything that is decent^ while the other skipper like does nothin' but feed, sleep and grunt. Man was made for talk, and can't live alone that way. Skippers though aint all cast in the same mould, some of *em are chock full of information, and have sailed everywhere a'raost, and can spin you a yarn by the hour ; but this fellow was as dumb as a clock that's run down, or if wound up has the main spring broke. However I thought he would serve my turn as far as Shelburne, where I could make an exchange and shift into some other craft; or visit the harbours as I used to do in old times in a waggon instead of a vessel. So I hurried home, packed up my duds, and got on board. The more I saw of the skipper the less I liked him. Whether he was really pious or his nervous system had been shaken by ranters I could not tell. Some folks fancy they are ill, and some that they are religious, and as both put on a colicky face it aint always easy to say which is which. It t^as evident he was a gloomy enthusiast who would rather die than laugh, and the unfittest messmate iri the world 62 I i' Hi' THE BLACK HAWKJ for one who would rather die than shed tears. There was one com- fort though, we warnt to be together long, and there were other folks on board besides him. So I made up my mind to go ahead. The sea air refreshed me at once, and I felt like a new man Tho *' Black Hawk," for that was the name of the vessel, sailed like Uk witch. We overhauled and passed everything we saw in our course. She was put on this trade seeing she was a clipper, to run away from the colony cutters, which like the provincials themselves havn't much go ahead in them ; for her owners were in the habit of looking upon the treaty about the fisheries with as much respect as an old newspaper. All the barrels on board intended for fish were filled with notions for trading with the residenters along shore, and all the room not occupied by salt was filled with churns, buckets^ hay-rakes, farming forks, factory cotton, sailors' clothes, cooking-stoves, and all sorts of things to sell for cash or barter for fish. It was a new page in the book of life for me, and I thought if the captain was only the right sort of man, I'd have liked it aniazinly. The first day or two the men were busy stowing away their things, arranging their berths, watches and duties, and shaking themselves fairly into their places for a long cruise ; for the vessel was to be supplied by another at Canseau, into which she was to discharge her fish, and resume her old sphere of action, on account of her sailing qualities. A finer crew I never saw — all steady, respectable, active, well-conducted, young men ; and everything promised a fair run, and a quiet, if not a pleasant trip to Slielburne. But human natur is human natur, wherever you find it. A crew is a family, and we all know what that is. It may be a happy family, and it ought to be, but it takes a great deal to make it so, and every one must lend a hand towards it. If there is only one screw loose, it is all day with it. A cranky father, a scoldin' mother, a refractory Koy, or a sulky gall, and it's nothin' but a house ot correction from one blessed New Year's Day to another. There is no peace where ihe wicked be. This was the case oq board the ''Black Hawk." One of the hands, Enoch Eells, *a son of one of the owners, soon began to give hinraelf airs of superiority ; and by his behaviour, showed plain that he considered himself rather in the light of an officer than a sharesman. He went un- willingly about his work ; and as there was little to do, and many to do it, managed to escape almost altogether. The Captain bore with him several days, silently, (for he was a man of few words), apparently in hopes that his shipmates would soon shame him into better conduct, or force him to it by resorting to those annoyances they know so well how to practise, when they have a mind to. On the fifth day, we were within three miles of the entrance to Shel- burn Harbour ; and as the wind began to fail, the Captain was anxious to crowd on more sail ; so he called to the watch to set the OR, LIFE IN A PORE AND AFTER. M gaf-topsail ; and said he, " Enoch, I guess you muy go up and keep It free." " I guess I may," said he ; and continued pacing up and down the deck. " Do you hear what I say, Sir ?" "Oh, yes, I hear you." " Then why don't you obey. Sir ?" "Because." " Because ! what sort of an inswer is that, Sir ?" " It's all the answer you'll get, for want of a better. I'm not going to do all the work of the vessel. My father didn't send me here to be your nigger." " I'll teach you better than that, young man," snid the Captain. "While I'm here as skipper, all my lawful orders shall be obeyed, or I'll punish the offender, be he who he may.- I order you again to go up aloft." "Well, I won't; so there now, and do your prettiest." The Captain paused a moment, grew deadly pale, as if about to faint ; and then it seemed as if all the blood in his body had rushed into his face, when he jumped up and down on the deck, with out- stretched arms and clenched fists, which he shook at the offender, and cried out, • "Aloft, aloft, Go up aloft, You siuner." The other came aft, and mockin' him, said, in a drawlin', whinin' voice, that was very provokin', " I won't, that's flat, So just take that. You sinner." The Captain, whose eyes were flashing fire, an^ who was actually foamin' at the mouth, retorted, *• May I never see bliss, If I put up with this, You sinner." It was evident he was so excited as to be quite deranged. " Sad business this, Mr. Slick," observed the mate. " Here, Mr. h'ent," said he, addressing the second officer, "I can depend upon you ; assist me to take the captain below, we must place a hand in charge of him, to see he does no mischief to himself or anybody else, arid then let's go forward, and see what's to ' e done." "Mr. Slick," sais he, as he returned with the second mate, "this is a bad business. I'm afecrd our voyage is at an eend. What hat' I best do ?" " Go forward/' sais I; "and make that villain do Lis duty. If 5 * ]IJ 1 i|j 1^ 4 ; 64 THE BLACK HAWK; ho obeys, the knowledge of it may cool the captain, and calm him." He shook his head, incredulously. " Never I" said he, " never I That man is past all human aid j ho never should have been taken away from the Asylum. But suppose Eells refuses to obey me also?" "Make him." " How can I make him ?" "Tie him up, and lick him." " Why his father owns half the 'Hooker.' " "Lick him all the harder for that; he ought to set a bettei example on board of his father's vessel." " Yes, and get myself sued from one court to another, till I'm ruined. That cat won't jump." " Send him to Shelburn jail, for mutiny." « What ! and bo sued for that ?" "Well, well," saia I, in disgust, "I'm only a passenger; but I wish I was as I used to be, able to do what I pleased, whether it convened with other folks' notions of dignity or not. My position in society won't let me handle him, though my fingers tingle to be at him ; but I don't like lettiu' myself down arter that fashion, fightiu' with a feller like that, in another man's quarrel. It goes agin the grain, I tell you ; but old times is stronger than new fashions, and I must say that critter deserves a tannin' most richly." "If you've no objection. Sir, I'll handle him," said the second mate. He was a small-sized, but athletic looking man ; not near so strong apparently as Eels, but far more active. His complexion was father yellow than sallow, in consequence of his recently having had the fever in Jamaica ; but his eye was the most remarkable I ever saw. " Yes," said the mate, " you may whip him as long as you like, if you aint afeard of bein' sued." Well, we went over to whe-o our hero was walking up and down the deck, looking as big as if he had done something very won- derful. " Eells," said the mate, " come like a good fellow, go up aloft, and do as the capten ordered you ; obeyin' him might restore him, for he 18 beside himself." "I won't; so spare yourself further talk." " Then I order you." " You order," said he, putting his fist in the officer's face. " A pretty fellow you, to order your owner. Now, I order you aft, to go and attend to your work." "Friend Eels," said the second mate, "your father is a most tincommon particular lucky man." He turned and looked at him hard for a space, dubdrsome whether OR, LIFE IN A FOR£ ANT AFTER. 55 Jo condescend to answer or not; but had no more idea what was in Btore for him than a child. At last said he, sulkily : " How so?" ♦< Why," sais Bent, " he has got a vessel, the captain of which is mad, a mate that hasn't the moral courage of a lamb, and a lazy idle vagabond of a son, that's a disgrace to his name, place, and nation. I wish I was first mate here, by the roarin' Bulls of Bason, I'd make you obey my orders, I know, or I'd spend every rope's-end and every handspike in the ship first j and if that didn't do, I'd string yon up by the yard-arm, or my name aint Jem Bent, you good-for-nothin', worthless rascal." " Mr. Bent," said he, " say those words again if you dare, and I'll whip you within an inch of your life." " Oh, yea !" replied the other, " of course you will, and great credit you'd get by it, a great big ongainly ugly brute like you, thrashin' a man of my size, that's taking bis first voyage after the yellow fever. Why, I see you are a coward too ; but if you be, I beant, so I repeat the words, that you are a good-for-nothin', worthless rascal ; those were the words, and I'll throw in coward, to make it weigh heavier. Now, come on, and lick an invalide man, and then go home and get a commission in the" horse marines." He appeared to take all this trouble to make him strike first, so as to keep within the law. A fight is a fight, Squire, all the world over, where fightin' is the fashion, and not stabbin'. It aint very pretty to look at, and it aint very pretty to describe, and it don't read very pretty. It's the animal passion of man roused to madness. There aint much difference to my mind between a reproarious man and a reproarious bull ; and neither on 'em create much interest. I wouldn't describe this bout, only j, genuine Yankee fight is different from other folk's. Though they throw off their coats, they don't lay aside their jokes and jeers, but poke hard as well as hit hard. While Eells was stripping for the combat, Bent bammed him : sais he, " I believe I won't take off my jacket, Enoch, it might save my hide, for I don't want to have that tanned till I'm dead." The men all larfed at that, and it don't take much to make a crowd laugh; but what would it have been among Englishmen? Why it would have been a serious affair ; and to show their love of justice, every fellow would have taken a side, and knocked his neighbour down to see fair play. But they have got this to lam, " to hung up a man's cT/es aint the way to enlighten him..'' While Bent was securing his belt, sais he, " Enoch, whatever you do, spare my face ; you would ruin me among the ladies, if you hurt that." They fairly cheered again at that remark. " Depend on it," sais one of them, " Bent knows what he's about. See how cool he is ! He's agoin to quilt that felloW; and make pretty patchwork of him, see if he aint." M THE B Ti A C K 11 A W K J "ii'i; J ¥ m :i When Bout saw liim equurin' off, ho put up his fruanla uwkvvanl like, straight up iti front, " Come on, Jack-tho-giunt-fcillor," sais ho, "but spare my dugcrtypo. I boscech you have mcroy on tliul." With that Eells rushod forward, and U't go a powerful blow, which the other had just time to catcii and ward off; but as Eolls throw his whole weight to it, ho almost went past iJont, when ho tripped his heels as quick as wink, and down ho wont amazin' heavy, and nearly knocked the wind out of him. " Well done, Bent," said the men. " Hurrah for Yellow Jack !'' When he got up ho blowod a little. " Are you ready," says Bent, " for I scorn to take an advantage, especially of a coward ; if so be that you're ready, come on." Eells fought more cautiously, and exchanged a few passes with his antagonist, but we soon perceived ho had about as much chance with him as a great big crow has with a little king-bird. Presently, Bent gave him a smart short blow right atwixt his eyes, not enough to knock him down, but to blind and bewilder him for a minute, and then when he threw his arms wide, gave him a smart right and lefter, and had time to lay in a second round, beginning with the left hand, that did smashing work. It cut him awfully, while he fell heavily on his head upon a spar, that caused him to faint. "Friends an' countrymen," said Bent to the crew, ''if this man thrashes me to death, as he throijtened, put a seal on my things and send them home to Cuttyhunk, that's good fellers." Oh ! how the men laughed at that. One of thom that spoke up before, said, "I'm as glad as if somebody had given me lifty dol- lars to see that bully get his deserts." It seemed as if Bent wanted to tantalize him, to take a little more out of him. " Do little dear heart," says he, " is mother's own darlin' ittle boy hurt? Did that great big giant, Jim Bent, thrash mudder's on dear little beauty ?" Creation ! how the men cheered. Eells sat up and looked round, while the other crowed like a cock, and pretended to flap his wings. '* Mate," said Bent, " the owner orders you to bring hira a glass of water ; and he says you may put a glass of rum in it, and charge it to our mess." Eells jumped up short and quick at that; sais he, "I'll pay you for this, see if I don't." To coax him on, the other observed, " I shall go down this time. I'm beat out, I am only a sick man. Bo give mc a drink." While he was speaking, the mutineer rushed on him unawares, and put in a blow that just grazed the back of his head. If he hadn't just then half turned by accident, I do believe it would have taken his head off j as it was, it kind of whirled him the other way in front of Eells, whose face was unguarded, and down he went i' an instant. *; ii OR, L I F E 1 N A F O H K A N I. A F T E II , 67 To mnko a long story short, every timo he raised up, Bont floored him. At last ho giivc in, hollered, and was can*ied forward, and a tarpaulin thrown over him. The other warnt hurt a bit, in fact the exercise seemed to do him good; and I never saw a man pun- ished with so much pleasure in my life. A brave man is sometimes a d('Kj)rra(lo. A Indlj/ is a/ivdi/s a coiiutrd. "Mate," says I, as wo returned aft, " how is the captain?" "More composed sir, but still talking in short rhymes." " Will ho bo fit to go the voyage ?" " No, Sir." " Then ho and Eclls must be sent home." "What, the captain?" "Yes, to bo sure; what in natur* is the good of a mad captain?* "Well, that'? true," sajd he; " but would I be sued ?" "Pooh !" said I, "act and talk like a man.*' " But Eclls is the owner's son, how can I send him ? I'll bo sued to a dead sartainty." "I'll settle that; give mo pen and ink: — 'We the crow of the * Black Hawk,' request that Mr. Eolls be sent homo or discharged, as ho may fhoose, for mutinous conduct; otherwise we refuse to pro- ceed on tl' lyage.' Call the men aft here." They a eared and signed it. " Now," sais I, " that's settled." "But vvron't wo all be sued ?" said he. "To be sure you will all be sued," said I, "and 'pvivsued to the eends of the airth, by a constable with a summons from a magis- trate, for one cent damage and six cents costs. Dream of that con- stable, his name is Fear, he'll be at your heels till you die. Do you see them fore and a;'ters under M'Nutt's Island ?" " Yes." " Well, they are "V ankee fishermen, some loaded and some empty, some goin* to Prince Edward's Island, and some returnin' home. Hun alongside the outer ones, and then I'll arrange for the passage of these people." " But how," said he, " shall I make the voyage, without a captain and one hand less." " A mad captain and a mutinous sailor," said I, " are only in the way. I'll ship a skipper here, off the island, for you, who is a first rate pilot, and I'll hire a hand also. You must be the responsible captain, ho will be the actual one, under the rose. He is a capital fellow, worth ten of the poor old rhymer. I only hope he is aJ home. I tell you I know every man, woman, and child here." "But suppose any accident happened, Mr. Slick," said he^ "mightn't I be sued, cast in damages, and ruinated?" " Yon are afeard of law ?" sais I, " aint you ?" "Well, I be, that's a fact." Il 58 THE BLACK HAWK " Weil, I'll tell you how tc escape it." " Thank you," said he, " I shall be everlastingly obliged to you. What must I do ?" " Turn pirate." " Anu be hanged,"' sais he, turning as white as a sheet. "No," sais I, "no cruiser will ever be sent after i/ou. Turn pirate t-n this coast, rob and plunder all the gulls, dippers, lapwings, and divers nests on the islands and highlands ; shoot the crew if they bother you, make them walk the plank, and bag the eggs, and then sail boldly into Halifax under a black flag at the top, and bloody one at the peak, wear a uniform, and a cocked hat, buckle on a sword, and call yov-^^lf Captain Kidd. I'm done witn you, put me on shore, or send me on board of one of our vessels, and fish for yourselves. I wish I had never seen the ' Black Hawk,' the captain, Enoch Eells, or yourself. You're a disgrace to our great nation." " Oh, Mr. Slick !" said he, " for goodness gracious sake don't leave me in a strange port, with a crazy captain, a mutinous sailor " " And an everlastin' coward of a mate," sais I. "Oh ! don't dcsai-t »e," salJ he, a-wringin' of his hands; "don't, it's a heavy responsibility, I aint used to it, and I might be " " Suec^," said I. " That's right, bite in that word sved. Never dare mention it afore me, or I'll put you ashore with them othci* chaps. I'll stand by you," sais I, ''for our great country's sake, if you will do exactly as I toll you. Will you promise ?" '' "Yes," sais he, "I will, and never talk about being sued. Never," said he. " Well, tb(fn, I'll stand by you ; and if you are sued, I'll pay all damage." '^Oh ! Mr. Slick," sais he, "you must excuse me. I am a good seaman, and can obey orders. I never commanded, but I can do the work of a mate." "No, you can't," sais I. " Why didn't you take a handspike, and knock that mutinous rascal over?" "And b-^ " said he. * "Sued," sais I. "Yes, sued; and suppose you had been, wouldn't all the mariners of the Sound a-stood by you, and called you a trump ? I wish to goodness Bent had a-licked you, instead of Enoch. It would have done ^oii good — it will make him despe- rate. Go home and farm; and when a bull roars, jump over a fence, and get citated and sued for trespassin' on your neighbour's farm. Phew ! I hate a coward." "I aint a coward; I'm foolish, that's all — a little nervcn? about responsibilities I aint used to ; but whatever you say, I'll do." " I'll take you at your word," sais I. " Range up alongside of that outer craft, and send me aboard" OR, LIFE IN A FORE AND AFTER. 69 Well, I hailed the vessel, and found she was the * Bald Eagle/ Captain Love, of Nantuc^ et. " Captain Love !" sais I to myself: "just such a fellow, I suppose, as this mate ; a sort of milksop, that goes to sea in fine weather j and when he is to home, is a soit of amphibious beau at all the husken, quilten, and thanksgivin' parties. It's half-past twelve o'clock with our fishermen, when a skipper's name is Love." Sweet love ! — home, sweet home ! I consaited I did not feel quite so well as when I left Slickville. "Captain on board?" sais I. "I guess he is," said one of the hands. " Then let down the ladder," sais I ; " please." " Won't a rope do as well ?" sais he. " It would do on a pinch," sais I. " I do suppose I could come up hand over hand by it, and lick you with the eend of it, too, if I liked ; but being a landsman, I don't calculate to climb, when there are a pair of stairs; and, to my mind, it wouldn't lower our great nation, if its citizens were a little grain more civil. If you don't let it down, as Colonel Crockett said, ' You may go to the devil, and I'll go to Texas.' " "Well," sais he, " a pleasant voyage to you. They tell me it's a fine country, that." "Push off, my men," sais I; and while they were backing water, " Give my compliments to the Captain," I said; "and tell him Mr. Slick called to see him, and pay his respects to him ; but was drove off with impudence and insult." Just then, a man rushed down from the quarter-deck, and caller out, "What in the world is all this? Who did that person say hi was?" f^Mr. Slick," said the spokesman. " Ar.d how dare you, Sir, talk to a gentleman in :;hat way? This way, Mr Slick," for it was getting dark ; " this way, please. Very glad to see you. Sir. Down with the ship's ladder there, and fasten the man ropes; and here, one of you go down the first two steps, and hold the ropes steady, and back up before him. Welcome, Sir," sais he, " on board the ' Bsld Eagle.' The Captain is below, and Tyill be delighted to see you : I'm his first maie. But you must sta^ here to-night. Sir." Then, taking me a little on one side, he said : " I presume you don't know our skipper ? Excuse me for hinting you will have to humour him a little at first, for he is a regular character — rough as a Polw bear; but his heart is in the right place Did y.^i I;' 5) " ' Who is a-goiti' to pay for 'em ?' " ' I am/ said the captain. " ' IVaiso tho Lord,' .said Jododiali. " ' ].)oirt forgo ahead that wa}', old boy, or you may got a-grouud afore you know whore you be. I'll advance the money for his mo- tlier, and she is as poor as a hen partridge that's a hatchiu' eggs.' " ' Praise tho Lord,' said Jedediah. " ' Now let me see the bill is all done at lov/est possible cash price, or I'll keep tho goods, and let you fish for the pay.' " * I'll put tlinm below first cost/ said ho, * I'll lose by them all I can afford. I^'aise the Lord.' "'What an evcrlastin' lie/ said the skipper, 'what a hypocrita you be, Jed,' returning to the counter; 'if ever you dare to talk t^ me that way agin, I'll flay you alive. I shouldn't mind your rippiu' out an oath or two now and then, for thunder will burst, and it clears the air — tho' s^•carin' is as well let alone, when you can help it — but crntin', whynin', textin', and psalmin', when a man n»cans trickery — oh ! it's the devil !' "I didn't sleep much that night; I was home-sick and heart-sick. Two things troubled me greatly, upon which I wanted explanation. The first was, he claimed to be my father. Why was the secret kept from me ? Secondly, ho bougiit all this outfit at my mother's ex- pense, and spoke very disi'cpectfully of her, sayin' she was as poor as an old hen partridge. What mystery is this? I resolved when I saw the warden to open my heart to him. So as soon as I got up I asked leave to go and see him. "Yes,' said he, 'go and welcome, but be back by ten o'clock, for we shall sail at one, and you must learn how a vessel is got under way. Have you got any money in your pocket V " ' No, Sir.'' " ' Do you want any ?' ' "'No, Sir; I never had any, and have no use for it.' " ' That's right, be prudent, and never be under an obligation to anybody; and above all things, always speak the truth, your word must be your bond through life. Well,' sais he, ' we always advance to the hands for outfit, if they want it. Here are two dollars, on account of your share of the airnings, and if you don't want uothin', buy some little things that your mother likes, and let Old Hundredth tiike them to her. Always rcmcuiber her after every cruise ; you must support that family at present. Now, make tracks.' " Well, his words sunk deep into my heart, especially what he said about truth. 'Then this man is my father,' said I; and I went sor- rowing on my way. "The warden was alone at breakfiist when I entered. " ' Mr. Chase/ said I, ' who is Captaiu Love, is he any relation of mine ?' THE widow's son 7* ^) ranee ', on thin', redth you said sor- "Not that I know/ said he, 'I never heard of it. But why dc you ask ?' " AVcll, I repeated to him all the conversation T had hoard between him and the cook, and told him how distressed 1 was at it. "Oh/ said lie, 'that was an expression of kindness, that's all; you know it is ligarativc language.' " I then told him the story of the outfit, and the way he spoke of my mother. " ' He has no discretion in his talk sometimes,' said the warden, 'but he was joking only. Figg understood that, it's a present to you, only he didn't want to be bothered with thanks. Behave well, Timothy. That man is able and willing to serve you, he has taken a fancy to you. I think your father rendered him, many years ago, an important service, without inconveniencing himself. He referred to somethin' of the kind in his letter to me, when I applied to him to take you, but I don't know what it was.' " ' Well, here's the two dollars. Sir,' said I, ' will you give them to my mother, with my love 1" "'No,' said he, 'anybody can send money; but you must not only do that, but take trouble besides : it's very grateful, such little attentions. Buy something for her — tea, coffee, and sugar, how would that do?' " There aint a spoonful in the house.* " ' Then we'll get them; give mo the money, and I'll go to an old parishioner of your fatlier's that will be glad to make the two dol- lars do four dollars' work. Now good-bye, my boy, take care of your conduct, and depend upon it Providence will take care of you.' " The second day after we sailed. As we sat to dinner, ' Tim,' sais he, ' do you know what a lof' is, and how many kinds there be.' " ' Two, Sir,' sais I; ' there'? the back log and the back stick.' " ' Creation,' said he, ' I wonder if ever I was as soft as that, I don't believe it as far as I can remember; sartainly not since I was knee high, at any rate. A log is a ship's journal, my son, the mate keeps it, and you must copy it, there is a book in your chest for the purpose, it will show you that part of his duty. Now, do you know what throwing a log is?' " ' I suppose it means when you have no further use of it, throw ing it overboard.' " ' Weil, you were not so far out that time. It is a small piece of wood*" attached to a line, which is thrown overboard, when the vessel is ijoing, and this line has knots, each of which denotes a mile, and that is throwin' the log, and settin' down tliese distances is called koepiu' the log. Now,' said he, ' make yourself master of tlie names of * First called a lo^ in Irelaud w 74 THE widow's son. m. & of the ropes, and spars, and rifi;gin', and all sea tarins ; but never ask a man that's busy, and never talk to the man at the helm.' " I mention these little things, not that there is any intrinsic interest in them, but to show you how minute his kindness has been. We were five weeks gone. On my return he sent me to see my mother, and sent her a cheque for fifty dollars, for what he called my sliare. " ' Fetch your books when you come back,' sais he, ' with you, all kinds, Latin and Greek that you did lam, and travels and voyages that you haute larned, and improve your mind. You cant lam too much, if you don't larn tricks.' " In this way I have gone on ever since, always receiving far moro than my share for my services ; and now I am to be advanced to the command of a whaler. I have neglected no opportunity according to his advice, of acquiring information, and continuing my study of languages. I put James thro' Cambridge, and he has removed to Boston, where he is just about conmiencing law. Mother has Imd her schemes of ambition all revived in him. He took a degree with honours ; he promises to make a figure at the bar ; and she thinks those other prizes in the lottery of life — a seat in Congress, a secre- taryship, and tlic presidential chair, are held in store yet by Provi- dence for the Widow's Son." CHAPTER VII. THE LANGUAGE OF MACKEREL. The next mornin', just at the early dawn of day, I heard the Cap- ting jump out of bed, and as I don't like to be caught nappin', I outs too, puts my clothes on as quick as wink, and gets into the cabin before he and the mate made their appearance. I sat down to the table, took up his "patent jigger," to sec if I could contrive the "snaps" for it; and was a-workin' it upwards and downwards to see what it wanted, when he came in. "What, up already^" said the Captain. "Well, you are a racl New Euglander, for 'Yankees and weasels aint often caught nap- pin.' " ^ " * It'^ the early bird that gets the worm' Capting," sais I. "Exactly," sais he, "and so it is with the macarel catch too; it's first come first served in the fisheries. But, Matey, let's go on deck and see what chance there is of a wind." "It's a dead calm/' said he, when he returned, "and there will THE LANGUAGE GT MACKEREL. 75 )m', I cabin I to the iQ the I to see racl nap- |j it'a deck will be no breeze until twelve o'clock ; and then, if it does come, it will be, as fair as it can blow, east south-east half-east ; it's like the crew, late a-gettin' up to-day j but it will be along here byme bye." "Capting," sais I, "I have got it. You know I am a clock- maker, and know a little about machinery ?" "What the plague don't you know something about, Mr. Slick?" said he. "Well," saia I, ••! don't know much about anything, that's a fact, for I'm a sort of Jack of all trades, and msster of none; but I have some wrinkles on my horn for all that, for I warn't born yes- terday." "I guess not," said he, "nor the first flood tide before that neither." " Looke here, Capting," sais I, and I pulled the cord and drew up the arms of the jigger ; " now," sais I, " put a spring on the shank, on the back of the centre bar, exactly like the springs of an umbrella, with the same sort of groove for it to play in, as the handle of that has, and the jigger is complete." ^"I see it," sais he, jumpiu' up and snappin' his fingers. "I see it, it's complete ; it's rael jam up that. That's a great invention, Mr. Slick, is that jigger, that and my bait-cutter, and the dodge I discovered of makin' the macarel rise to the surface, and follow me like a pack of dogs, will cause old Blowhard's name to be remem- bered as long as the fisheries are carried on. I'll explain that dodge to you. You know we can't fish lawfully within three leagues of the shore. Well, the macarel are chiefly inside of that, and there they be as safe as a thief in a mill. The Bluenoses are too ever- lastin' lazy to catch 'em, and we can't get at 'em without the risk of being nabbed and losin' vessel and all. So I set my wits a thinkin', and I invented a bait-cutter ; see, .here is one," and he opened a locker and took oat a box fitted with a handle like a coffee-mill, and having a cylinder stuck full of sharp blades, that cut the bait with rapidity and ease into minute particles. " Now," sais he, " I just sails along in shore like — for there is no harm in that, as long as you don't fish there — and throw the bait over, and the fish rise to the surface, and follow me to the right distance; and then we at 'em, and in with 'em like wink. I have sailed afore now right alongside of a great long seine, and taken the whole shoal away. Creation ! how Bluenose used to stare when he seed me do that ! One of 'em came on board the ' Old Eagle ' onct, and said he, ' Oh ! Capting, how on airth do you raise the fish from the bottom that way, when no human bein' could tell there was one there. I'll give you a hun- dred dollars for that are secret, cash down on the nail.' "Well, you know it wouldn't do to sell secrets to benighted foreigners that way, it would make them grow kind of sarsy. So I always try to put 'em ofif, and at the same time take a rise out of 76 THE LANOUAQE OF MACKEREL. n I; iii^-^ |s:,f IK «i 'era. So, sais T, * friend, it would be a siu and a shame to take your property for notliin' that way ; it would bo as bad as your wreckers about your sow-sow-west shore. It's a simple thing, and I'll tell it to 3'ou for nothin'.' '''Captain,' sais the critter, lookin* wide awake for once, and so excited as actilly to take his hands out of his trousers' pockets, where he had kept 'em, since the week afore, except at meal-hours and bed- time, out of pure laziness, 'now that's what I call clever, and I don't mind if I go below and take a glass of grog with you on the strength of it.' And one thing I must say for the critters, if they are lazy — and there's no denyin' that — they ain't bashful; that's a Yankee word they never heard on. " ' Well,' sais I, ' I ought to have thought of that myself, that's a fact. Come let's go below, for I don't want everyone to hear it, if it is so simple.' Well, I takes him into the cabin, shuts to the door, places the liquor on the table, and draws up close, to be confidential. * Take a pull at that are particular old Bosting domestic rum/ sais I. ' It's some I keep on purpose for treating them gentlemen to, Mr. Slick ; it's made of the lyo of wood-ashes, sweetened with molasses, and has some vitriol in it, to give it spirit ; it's beautiful stuff for them that likes it. It's manufactored by that pious old rascal, * Praise-the-Lord.' The old villain got the other distillers at the Cape to jine the temperance society with him, so as to have things his own way, and then sot to a brcwin' this stuff; and when hauled over the coals for sellin' liquor, sais he, ' It's neither rum, nor brandy, nor gin, nor whiskey,' and so he ran on through the whole catelogue that's in their oaths, ' nor distilled, nor farmented liquors, nor anything tetotallized agin, but just an anti-cholic cordial, praise the Lord 1' " ' Capting,' sais Bluenose, ' that's the rael thing, that are a fact. It ain't reduced. What we buy along shore here is half water and half rum, and scarcely that; we are so cheated by them that gets our fish. It's pee-owcrful, that's sartain.' " ' Pce-owerful,' sais I, 'I guess it is; it wouldn't take much of * that to give weak eyes and a sore throat, I can tell you. Fire will burn, unless you keep it down with water.' " ' Well,' sais he, 'ain't you agoin' to drink yourself?' " >t "I know it," he said, "I could toll her auiong a thousand; next to the * Eagle' she is tho most beautiful craft of the whole American mackerel fleet" " Well," sais I, " the skipper has gone mad." " Mad," said he, and the word seemed to annoy him, ''not a bit of it — odd like a little, perhaps, but a good sailor I warrant : mad, hay ! Why they say I am mad, juf-t cause I go where others darsent follow me, and keep order and will have it on board ; I am the best natured man living." At that moment the cook made his appearance accompanied by tha cabin boy, to whom he gave some instruction about the table, The instant 131owhard saw the former, he suddenly boiled over with rage and looked the very picture of a madman, ** Come here, you old Lucifer," said he, " or I'll make the whites of your two great goggle eyes the same colour as your face, black as midnight." "Tank you, massa," said the negro, holding the door in his hand, " but you mad now, and I berry busy gettiu' dinner ready ; you said half past eleben, and it is just gone eleben, and I see the breeze off Ragged Island." " Eleven, you villain," said the captain, " I wish I could get my paw upon you ; it's half past now." "Oh, massa Commodore, you mad now; just look at are ole crometer turnip of yourn." The captain pulled out a largo silver watch, resembling that vege- table more than a modern time-piece, and instantly recovering his good humour said : " Well, cookey, you are right for oncet in your life, that are a fact, come hero, here is a glass of monogohela for you cookey. Tip that off, and then stir your stumps." " Massa, your berry good health, same to you massa Sam, and massa mate." Drinking it off he returned to the door, which he held as a screen in his hand, and then showing two rows of ivory that extended almost from car to ear, he turned and said : " Now next time, massa, don't go get mad for noten," and vanished. "Mad! You see they say I am mad," he said again; "but there never was so good-natured a man as I be. I never was mad in my life, except I was put out; and there is enough on board a vessel to drive a man distracted. I never saw a rail Yankee mad uother, except he made a bad specilation. No, we don't go crazy, we got too much sense for that, and Blue-nose has too little — the Dutch is too slow for it, and a nigger has no care ; but a mad Frenchman is a sight to behold. I shall never forget a feller once I drove ravin' distracted. I was bound for Prince Edward's Island fishery ; and I never made such a run afore or since, as that from Cape Cod to Arichat. There the wind failed, and not feelin' well, I took the boat and went ashore to the doctor. 82 THE BEST NATUEED ^i i: *,i^ - '■■' ■' *1 •J' i '1^ a I '«* ■'■J ti /■*' ^:'i' "Sais he, 'you must take five powders of calomel and colycinth, one every other night,' and he did them up as neat as you please, in white slips of paper, quite workmanlike. " ' What's the damage ?' sais I. " ' Eighteen-pence,' sais he. " ' Eighteen what !' ^ais I, a raisin' my voice so as to be heard ia aimest. " Eighteen-pence,' said he. ' I can't sell 'era no cheaper, that colycinth is expensive, and don't keep well; and you must import it from London yourself.' " ' I hope I may never see Cape Cod again if I do,' sais I. "' 1 don't mean you,' he said, quite coolj 'I mean me.' "'Then why the plague didn't you say so?' sais I. " ' I can't take no less,' said he. ' This is a poor country here. Sometimes I ride five or six miles to see a sick woman ; well, half the time I don't get paid at all, sometimes I get only a few dried fish, or a little butter, or may be a dozen of eggs, and often nothin* but a dozen fleas. If it's too dear take it for nothin', for I won't take less.* " < Why you old salts and sinna,' said I, * do you think I am com- plainin' of the price ? I was complainin' of you bein' such a fool as to charge so little. Who the plague can live arter that fashion ? There,' sais I, ' is a dollar, keep that,' a throwin of it down on his counter, ' and I will keep the modiciue, for I'll be hanged if I take it. The smell of your shop has half cured me already, and lots of molasses and water, I guess, will do the rest.' " Well, I picked up the powders, and put them into my waistcoat- pocket, and thought no more about 'em. 1 pitied that are doctor, for I took a kind of likin' to him, seein' he was like me, had great command of himself, and kept cool. So when I was ready to leave, * Dr. Pain,' sais I, ' I am the best-naturcd man in the world, I do believe; but I hope I may be most particularly d — d, if I could stand such patients as you have. Take my advice, cuss and quit.' "'Don't swear/ said he, 'it's apoplectic, and it's profane.' "'Swear,' sais I, 'who the devil made you a preacher? If it warnt for your fleas I'd flay you alive, you old — ' "'Take care,' said he, 'you'll break that retort.' " ' Retort !' sais I ; 'to be sure I will retort, it's my fashion to give as good as I get,' " ' The man is drunk,' said he, mumbling to himself; and he sUpt into an inner room, and bolted the door. "It appears to me people tease me a purpose sometimes, just because I am good-natured. " Weil, as I was sayin', as soon as I got on board the breeze sprung up agin, and we slipped through the great Gut of Canso quite easy, but owin' to the eddies and flaws of wind, sometimes one eend MAN IN THE WORLD. 88 jeze lite lend foremost and sometimes the other, and we passed Sand Point, Ship Harbour, Pirate's Cove, Plaister Buff, McNair's Bight, and all tho other hiding and smuggling places, one arter the other. Just as wo got off Indigue ledges, a fishjng-boat bore down on us. * "'Any fish, Captane?' "'What's your name?' sais I; for I always like to answer one question before I answer another. " ' Nicholas Baban,' said he. " He was a little dried-up wizened Frenchman, that looked more like a babboon than anything else. He had a pair of mocassins on his feet, tanned and dressed, with the hair on the outside; his home- spun trousers didn't come much below the knee, and the calf between that and the little blue sock was bare, and looked the colour of a smoked salmon. His jacket, like his trousers, had shrunk up too, and only came to the pockets of his waistcoat, while the blue cloth it was first made of, was patched over with another kind, having . white stripes, such as the Frenchwomen wear for petticoats. His cap, for hat he had none, had been cobbled up out of old red worsted, and a piece of fox-skin, with the tail hanging down rakisbly behind. In the front was stuck two little black .pipes. He was a pictur' to behold, and so was the other critter in the bow of the boat. "'Any fish, Captane? Best Boke code-fish, jist caught, vary good.' "'Well,' sais I, 'Mr. Babboon, I don't care if I do. Throw us up on deck two dozen, for a mess of chowder.' " Well, they was as pretty a lot of cod as I most ever seed. Them ledges is the best boat-fishing ground I know on, on the whole coast. 'Now,' sais I, 'Mr. Babboon, 'what's to pay?' "'Any ting you like, Captane.' '"Any ting is nothin',' sais I. 'Name your price, for time is money, and we must be a movin' on agin. Come, what's the damage ?' " ' Oh, anyting you like, Sure.' And the deuce a thing else could I get out of him ; but * anyting you like, Sare,' which I didn't like at all; at last I began to get riled. Thinks I, I'll teach you to speak out plain next time, I know; BO I put my hand in my waistcoat-pocket, and took out something to give him. ' Here,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon,' a stretchin' out my hand to him ; and he reached up his'n to receive his pay, and began to thank me gallus polite afore he got it. '* ' Tank you, Sare, vary much obliepe.' " ' Here's five calomel powders,' said I, and I dropt them into his nand. ' Take one every other night agoin' to bed, in some sweatenin' or another, and it will clear your complexion for you, aud make you AS spry as a tour-year-old.' " Oh 1 1 Dover saw anything like that mad Frenchman. He fairly >l^\ 84 THE BEST NATURED :i I if ;: yelled, ho tore olT lij'y old caj) and jumped on it, and let out a bald pule i)f ;i ligliftr colour than hi.s face, tliat made him look something not hiiniau. Ho foanuMl, and raved, and jablx.Tod, and threw his arms about, and shook his clenched list ^t me, and swore all sorts of oaths. French oaths, Gaelic oaths — for tiiore is a largo Highland Bcttloment back of Indigno — Indian cusses, and Yankee and Knglish and Irish oaths. They all came out in one great long chain ; and I am sartain if anybody had taken hold of one eeud of it, afore the links broke, and stretched 'em out strait, they would have reached across the Gut of Canso. "Well, arter I thought ho had lot off steam enough for safety, I took out of my pocket a handful of loose silver, and hehl it out to him. 'Come, Mr. IJabboon,' said I, 'come and take your pay, I don't want your fish for nothin', a»id go I nmst; so come now, liko a good feller, and let us })art friends.' "But it only sot hiui off agin as bad as ever; but this time it waa all abuse of us Yankees. Well, I can stand a glass or two of that, but more gets into my head, and excites me. Thinks I, my boy I'll cool you. I always have a hand-engine on board for wettin' sails; it makes them thicker, heavier, and liold the wind better. We had been usin' ourn that morniti' to help us through the Gut, for the currents were bothersome at the time. 'Give me the hose,' said I; ' and let a hand stand ready to work the pump. Are you ready ?' Bais I. " ' Yes,' sais the man. "'Now,' sais I, ' Mr. Babboon, I'll wash your face for you, afore you go home to see the old lady,' and let go a stream all over him, Some of it actilly went down his mouth and uonrly choked him, he and t'other feller pulled out of reach, hoisted sail, and made tracks for the shore as straight as the crow flies. I felt kinder sorry for him too, for he lost two dozen beautiful cod, and got a duekin' into the bargain ; but it was his own fault, he ought to have kept a civil tongue in his head. Yes, I think Parly voo Frenchman will beat any ci'eated critter at gettin' mad." "But, Captin," sais I, "our skipper is actilly mad, and no mistake." " What's his name ?" said he. " Jabish Green." "What! Jabish Green, of Squantum?" said he, a jumpin' up on eend. " The same," sais I. Mad !" said he. "To be sure he is; as mad as a IMarch hare. That's poor old Jim IMcGory, as the}' call hin) ; as good a critter, and as good a seaman, as ever trod shoe-leather. Oh, 1 guess he is mad. It's all day with him, poor feller ! and has been ever since that ever- lastin' scoundrel, Jim McGory, came out of the South, and got up MAN IN THE WORLD 85 Mm bho |vi! [eat no Ion re. id Id. protracted lucctins in our parts, so as to keep the bat pasain' rouDd Jill tlio tiiiu'. Gracious knows ho was bad enough that feller, but ho made himself out a hundred time wus than he was. He lied as fust as a horse could trot. He said he had been a Vixburg gambler, a horse-stealer, a nigger-kidnapper, a wraeker, a pirate, and I don't know what he didn't own to. The greater the sinner, the greater the saint, you know. Well, he said ho was convarted in the middle of the night, by an evangelical call, 'Jim MeGory, come to glory 1' Oh, tlio crowds of foolish women and men that followed arter that would astonish you. It appears to me, the more onlikely man, things are, the more folks believe them. Poor Jabish attended a protracted meetiu' of that critter's, down to Squantum, that lasted three days and three nights j and the followin' night he was so ex- cited ho didn't sleqp a wink, and they couldn't get no sense out of him ; he couldn't say any thin', but that are profane rhyme over and over, and they had to send him to the asylum. Who on airth could have shipped that man? Who are the owners of the 'Black Hawk'?" " I don't know." " Have you a tradiu' cargo of notions on board?" " Yes." " Then, it's the Boston folks. They don't know nothin' about the fishery. They have hired this man 'cause they have got him cheap, and they think they are doin' great things, 'cause they get such u large profit on their goods ; but they don't count the time they lose, and it's no better than pedlin' at last; and if there is a created critter I hate and despise, it's a pedlar — the cheatin', lyin', ramblin', la>;y villain." '•Except a clock pedlar," sais I, winkiu' to him. "No," sais he, a raisin' of his voice, until he roared amost, (for ^chc)l a man is wrong, and won't admit it, he always yets angry). '* No, I won't except them. There haint been an honest one here since your time ', they is the wust of all ; and a wooden clock now is like a woolen nutmeg, or a hickory ham — a standin' joke agin our great nation. Well, what do you want me to do, Mr. Slick?" "Take this skipper home with you." After a pause of a moment, he said, "No, I can't do that. I am the best tempered man in the world, but I haint got patience ; and if he went for to go for to give me any of his nonsense about Jim McGory, I suppose I should turn to and thrash him, and that would only make him wus. Here's the ' Nantasket,' of Nantucket, along- side hero. The Captin is fonder of quack medicines than Babboou; the Frenchman, was, by a long chalk. I'll get him to give him a passage home. So that's settled." " Well," sais I, " there is another chap that must go home; and I told him all about Enoch Eels tantalizin' the skipper, and settin' 8 Ifi' m I?' I s31 86 THE BEST NATURED him out of his mind ; but," sais I, " I am afraid he won't quit the vessel.' "Won't he?" said he. "Then I'll make bim, that's all. I'll Boon larn him the diSFerence between Jim McGory and old Blow- hard, I know. He's jist the cbap I want — something to tame : it keeps one in good humour. I had a bear on board onst ; I had him for three seasons. He was a great comfort to me, when I had no- thing to do. I used to let him loose, take a short iron bar m my hand, and give him lessons in manners. It was great fun; but being so well-fed, he grew to be so strong a brute, he became ob- Btropolus and troublesome, and used to drive the men up the riggin' Bometimes. Nobotiy could manage him but me ; for a crack over the nose with the iron bar always made him civil. A bear's nose, you know, Mr. Slick, is as tender as a feller's that's got a cold in his head. It kept us all in good humour. I used to like to get him near Satan^ tail on, give him a whack on the rump, and put my rod behind me as quick as wink, when he'd turn short, lay right hold of the cook's leg with his claws, and give him a nip. But somehow, I cousait, bears don't like niggers; for he always let go soon, and then sneezed for a minute or so, as if he smelt pyson. Well, one day, cook was called aft, just as the men's dinner was ready ; and in slipt bear, and began to pay away at it in rail airnest ; bat he scalded his paws, and skinned his nose with the soup, and the meat was so hot, he had to bolt it. The pain set him ravin' dis- tracted mad ; and when he came out of the cabouse, he cleared the deck in less than half no time. He was d gerous, that's a fact. Well, I got the rod^ and he gave me a stand-up fight for it; and at last, after he had warded ott' a good many blows, 1 hit him a crack on the snout; and he turned, and went into Lis den, slowly and sulkily, a lookin' over his shoulder as he went, and grinuiu' awful wicked. The short, quick way he lifted up his scalded paws off the deck, instead of his usual slouchiu' gait, was the funniest thing you ever saw. " Next mornin', when I turned out, I se< d all the men was on deck, and Bruin's door standin' open. ' When/s (ho bar?' sais I. " ' He got out afore day,' sais they ; * and as his paws were scalded and sore, we kinder guess he went overboard to cool 'em.' " I seed how it was : the villains had made him walk the plank. Oh, Solomon ! didn't 1 bile up, ready to run over the lid ! for I don't like fellers to make free with me or mine. But I threw a little grain of prudence info it, and it went right down in a minute, jist as a drop of water puts down bilin' maple sugar. I have great command over myself — I believe I am the best-tempered man in tiie world. Sais I to myself, ' It aint right to keep this brute to bother them, and he's got dangerous; and if he was to make mince-meat of any of 'em, it would be heavy on one's conscience, if a feller was on his beam-eud.' So sais I, ' Well, it's jist as well he has taken MAN IN THE WORLD. 87 on rere Ink. I a te > at a swim to shore, for be aint safe, is he ? and sheep seems more nateral food than humans for him. I should have liked though,' said I, ' if you could a caught him as he went over by the ears, and drawcd his skin off, as he sprung out ; the hide was worth twentj dollars/ " Well, they larfed at that joke, but they didn't know me. I always joko when I am aggravated ; it's like driving down the wad well — when the gun goes off it makes a louder report. I warn't well plehsed, and yet I can't say I was sorry, only I wished they had asked leave, and I turned and went below. It's better to be cheated than chafed, when you can't help yourself. Presently I heered an awful noise on deck, all the hands shoutin' i .i cheerin' and callin' out at the top eend of their voice. " ' Hullo !' sais I, ' what in natur' is all this ? has States Prison broke loose ?' "■ ' Look there,' sais they ; 'look at Bruin the bear.' " We was iibout a mile and a half from Louisburg, and it was nearly calm. Two Frendi lishcrmcn had come out in a boat to take up their nets, and, while their backs was turned, Bruin claws over the bow, and there he was a sittiu' on his haunches a-grinnin' and a-makin' faces at 'oni, and a-lickin' of his chops with his great red tongue, as if he had heard of French dishes, and wanted to try one. " Well, they yelled and roared with fright; but the bear was used to noises, and didn't understand no language but Indgian and Eng- lish, and held his ground like a man. At last one of the Frenchers got the boat-hook and made a poke at him ; but he knocked it out of his hand away up into the uir ever so far, and then actilly roared, he was so mad, "'Lower the boat,' sais I, 'my men. Be quick. Mate, you and I must go with our rifles; and Tim Lynch, you are a good shot too, bear a hand; we must be quick, or he'll breakfast off those chaps. Take your knives with you.' " Well, we pulled off, and got within good shootin' distance, when I told the Frenchmen to lie flat down in the boat, and we'd shoot the bar. Well, jist as they throwed themselves down, bar began to make preparations for ondressin' of 'cm, when the mate and I fired, and down he fell on one of the seats and smashed it in two. The man at the helm jumped overboard and swam towards us, but the other neither rose nor spoke. The bar had fallen on him, when he gave himself up for lost and fainted. We shipped the bar into our boat, put the helmsman back into his'n, and raised t'other feller on his feet, arter which we returned to the ' Eagle.' " No, I'd like to tame Euoch Eells. Theie would be fun in it, wouldn't there ? Cook, keep the dinner back, till further orders. Four hands in the boat there — move quick. Come, let's go oa board the ' Black Hawk.' " •hi, (I ! I'M t' , 88 THE BAIT BOX. " Massa," saiil Satan, " I know you is de best-natured man in do world, 'cept six, and derefore I rctirat you dine fust; it's half-past elobeii now, and dinner is pipiu' hot, and dat are Janiaiky does smell so oloriferous," and he held back his head and snuffed two or three times, as if he longed to taste of it agin; "and Massa Sam aint well, I is sure he aint, is' ynu, Massa Sam ?" Tliat familiar word, Sam, from a nigger was too much for poor Blowhard. " Sam ! the devil," said he, raisin' his voice to its utmost pitch, "how dare you, you black imp of darkness, talk before me that way." And he seized his favourite jigger, but as he raised it in the air, Satan absquotulated. The captain glared at the closing door most savagely ; but being disappointed of his prey, he turned to me with a look of fury. " I agree with you, captin'," sais I, quite cool; " I think we might as well be a-niovin." " Come then," said he, suddenly lowerin' his tone, " come then, let us go ahead. jMr. Slick," said he, "I believe they will drive me mad at last; every fellow on board of this vessel takes liberties with me, thinking I'll stand it, because they know I am the bcst-natiired man in the world." CHAPTER IX THE BAIT BOX. " So he wont leave the vessel, ch ?" said Captain Love, " well, a critter that wont move must be made to go, that's all. There is a mofivn power in all natur'. There is a current or a breeze for a vessel, an ingine for a rail-car, necessity for poverty, love for the feminine gender, and glory for the hero. But for men, I like per- suasion; it seems to convene better with a free and enlightened citizen. Now here," said ho, openin' his closet, and taking out his 'rope-yarn,' (the formidable instrument of puni^shment I have spoken uf,) " here is a persuader that nothing can stand. Oh ! he wont come, vU ? well, we'll see !" As soon as he went on board the ' Black Hawk,' we descended into the large cabin, and there sat 3Ir. Enoch Eells apart from the rest, with his head restin' on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, jookin' as if he had lost every friend he had in the world, and was a tryin' to fanc}' their faces ou the floor "Morniu' to you, Mr. EcUs," ad the skipper, "come to iDTite THE BAIT BOX. US live ^ed !13 ite you oa board the ' B?ld Eagle/ to take a trip to hum to see your friends again." " Well, I wont go," said he, ''so just mind your own business." " Hold up your head, man, and let me look at you," be replied, and he seized him by the collar, lifted him on his feet, and exposed his face to view. It was a caution, you may depend, swelled, and cut, and bruised and blackened dreadful. "Hullo!" said the skipper, "what's all this: who has been ill- using the man ? It must be inquired into. What's the matter, here ?" and he pretended to look all surprised. "Why," said the second mate, "the matter is just this: Enoch, instead of mindin' his business, aggravated the captin' and set hipf mud ; and instead of mindin' my business, as I had ought to do, returned the compliment, first aggravated, and then set him mad, and we fit. I must say, I took him in, for I know how to box scien- tific." " Workmanlike, you mean," the captain said, " I hate and despise that word ' scientific ;' it is a cloak to cover impudence and ignorance. A feller told me as we started last voyage, he fished scientific. ' Then you are just the hand for me,' said I. ' What's the cause of that film on the mackerel's eye in winter ?" « ' What film V said he. " ' And what's the scientific cause that the cataract drops off of itself without a doctor to couch it with a needle V " ' What cataract?' said he. " ' Why, you impostor,' said I, ' you said you fished scientific j get up your traps; go ashore and finish your schoolin',' and I put him into the boat and landed him. Finery in talk is as bad as finery in dress; and our great country is overrun with it. Things aint solid and plain now a-days as they used to be; but they are all veneered and varnished. Say workmanlike and I wont nonconcur you, for I must say the business was done thorough." " Well," sais Bent, " call it what you like, I was taughten the art, a»d he warnt, or he would have made small bait of mo in no time, for he is as brave as he is strong, and I don't believe there is an untaught man of his inches could stand before him." Eells Jumpt right up on eend at that, and caught him by the hand. " Mr. Bent," said he, "you have spoke like a man. I feel I was wrong; I am very sorry for it; let us part friends. It is better I should go ; the lesson wont be lost on me." " Exactly," said Blowhard, " the lesson is deeper than you think ; your father owns half this here vessel ; now a man that is richer than bis neighbour, is expected to be liberal of his civility as well as his money; civility is a cheap coin that is manufactured for nothiu', and among folks in general goes further than dollars and cents. But come, we must be a movin'. Mr. Eolla" — and he I m 1 ' ! ijr: Hi «f 90 THE BAIT BOX. marked the word * Mr.' to show he was pleased — " as soon as you are ready come on board, it will look better than goin' with me, ii seems voluntary and free-will like. " Now, Mr. Slick, let us go on board of the ' Nantasket' and see Capting Oby Furlong, old Sarsiparilly Pills, as I call him. He is a good kind of man in his way, but death on quack medicines, ahd especially sarsiparilly, for which he is going to take out a patent. Mate, when you see a flag hoisted, come on board with the capting, fetch him without his luggage, and then he will think there is no compulsion, and you can return for that arterwards. Come, boys, shove off." " Mr. Slick," said the mate, ** do you think I'll be sued ? It's a great risk and a heavy responsibility this." " Stand a one side," said I, " how dare you talk that way to me?' " Yes, Mr. Slick," said the skipper, " every man has his hobby, and on board ship it is actilly necessary to have some hobby oi another, or the bottle is apt to be sent for as a companion. It is a dull life at sea, sometimes, and a sameness in it even in its varieties, and it is a great thing to have some object for the mind to work on, where there are no passengers. Now there is my bait-box and patent-jigger inventions; there is Matey with his books and studies, and here is Oby Furlong with an apothecary's shop on board. The want of these things makes captings of men-of-war tyrants; when they don't study, their hobby is to bother their men, and their whole talk is discipline. "Commodore Marlin, of the 'Ben Lomond,' a British seventy- four, once hailed me off Fox Island, to ask some questions about the passage thro' the gut of Canso, He was a tight-built, well- made, active, wiry man, and looked every inch a sailor; but the word tyrant was writ over all in big print. There was a fightin' devil, and a bullyin' devil at the same time in his eyes and mouth, and it ain't often they go together, for it's mostly cowards that bully; but that man looked as if he warnt afeard of old Scratch himself. It ain't always necessary to look fierce; I ain't skeered of old Nick nuther; but I am as mock as a lamb. I do believe in my soul I am the best natured man living ; but that is neither here nor there. " When I went aft to him — for he didn't meet me a step, tho' ho sent for me himself — he eyed me all over, from head to foot, silent and scorney like, as much as to say, what a queer old thrasher you be ! I wonder if you are any relation to the sea-sarpent, or the hippopotamus, or any of these outlandish animals? He never «o much as asked me to sit down, or to go into his cabin, or take a glass to drink with him, or said a word in favour of iny beautiful littlo craft, which sailors always do, when they can with truth. " It seems to me, all created critters look down on each other. The British and French look down on the Yankees, and colonista 1 THE BAIT. BOX. 91 on he NO tlo look down upon niggers and Indians, while we look down upon them all. It's the way of the world, I do suppose; but the road ain't a pleasant one. "Are you acquainted with the navigation of the Straits of Canso?' said he. " * I guess I ought to be/ sais I. " ' That's not the question/ said he. * Are you, or are you not?' " ' Do you know it ?' sais I. * If you do, perhaps you have seen Sand Pint.' " Sais he, 'My friend, I asked you a plain, civil question; will you give me a plain, civil answer ?* "Thinks I to myself,. Commodore, the question is civil enough, but you aint civil, and your manner aint civil ; but, however, here's at you. I'll pay you oflF at last, see if I don't, for you sent for me ; I didn't come unaxed, and it was to give, and not ax favours. * Yes/ sais I, 'as many as you like.' Well, I told him all about the navi- gation, and finally advised him not to try to go through without a stiff breeze, with so large a ship, as the currents were strong, and the wind, when light, always baffling. " At last, sais I, ' This witness-box of yourn. Commodore, hns a plaguey hard floor to it; I don't care if I sit down,' and I jist squat- ted down careless, with legs across the breach of a large gun, so big I could hardly straddle it, a most onpardonable sin, as I knowed, on board of a man-of war ; but I did it a purpose. Then I jist sprin- kled over the beautiful white deck a little tobaccr juice, and coolly took out my jack-knife and began to pn pare to load my pipe and whittle. I did this all intentional, to vex him, on account of his rudeness — for rudeness is a game two can play at. Oh, Jerusalem ! if you had a seen him how he raved, and stamped, and swore, when he seed I was so juicy ! and the more he stormed, the more the ofl&- cers on the other side of t: o deck sniggered in their sleeves; for some how or another, in bic ships or little ones, men like to see the skipper rubbed up agin :iie grain, when they aint like to catch it themselves. Whtrever tktre is authority, there is a natural iticU' nation to clisobedience. "' Don't you know ^^etser than that. Sir?' said he. 'Have you no dcoeucy about you?' ** * Do you swaller when you chaw?' sais I, lookin' innocent, ' Some folks do, I know but I never could for the life of me. It goes agin the grain, and I couauit hurts tiie digestion.' Oh, what a face he made ! how he wagged his head, and shut IiIh mouth and his eyes close to ! He looked like a landsman jist agoin to be sea-sick, iud of shudder all over his frame. ( (( gave You may go, Sir,' said he. Thank you,' sais I; ' I suppono I needn't ask leave for that Captiug,' sais I, still keepin' my seat on the gun, * you want a bait box/ 92 TUB BAIT-BOX. m " ' A spittle-box, you mean/ said he. " ' No I don't/ 8ai^ I. ' I have bc^en too long afloat not to know the nicanin' of sea'tenus. You want a bait-box.' " He was fairly puzzled. First he looked at the leftenant, and then at me, and then he looked as if he had better drop further talk ; but his curiosity gpt the better of him. " ' A bait-box/ said he ; * I don't understand you,' " ' Well,' sais I, ' 1 invented a bait-box for cuttin' up bait small and fine, for enticin' fish,' and I explained it as short as words could make it, for fear he'd cut stick and leave me alone talkiu' there. 'Now,' sais I, 'that invention, beautiful and simple as it is, cost me great thought and much tobacky,' said I, lookin' innocent again ; ' but it occupied my mind at leisure hours for two seasons, and that's a great thing. Now, invent a bait-box, or a new capstan, or an im- proved windlass, or something or another of that kind ; it will keep you busy, and vi^hat's better, good-natured, and you won't rave when a gentleman jist spits on a floor that has a thousand men to clean it. " ' Now,' sais I, a risin', puttin' up my knife and tobacky, ' Cap- ting, depend upon it, you want a bait-box. And, Commodore, let me tell you, you sent for the right man to get information. I am Commodore of this everlastin' splendid American fishing-fleet, of more than two hundred forc-and-afters. A fleet the world can ditto for beauty, speed, and equipments. They call me Old Blow- hard. If you ever do me the honour to visit my flag-ship, I will prove to you an old Commodore knows how to receive a young one. There is a cabin in my vessel, small as she is, and chairs in it, and a bottle of the best wine for the like of you, and old Jamaiky for them that h t- ■ymr-.e to prefer it, and that's more than there is in this seventy-four, big as she is, as far as I can see. Oh, invent a bait- box ! it will improve your temper, and that will improve your man- ners, depend upon it. I wish you good morniu'.' "I then went on board, and hoisted a Commodore's flag, and my men — eighteen in number — saluted it with three cheers as it went up, and every other of our vessels becalmed there, seeing somcthin' was goin' on above common, took up the cheer, and returned it witli a will that made the shores echo again. "But here we are almost along.si^Ie of the 'Nantasket.' I will introduce you to Captiug Oby Furlong; he will be a character for you, and if you ever write a book again, don't fcrgit Old Sarsipa' rilly Fills." ft THE WATER-GLASS, ETC 111 CHAPTER X. THE "WATER-GLASS; OR, A DAY-DREAM OF LIFE. AS the men rowed us towards the ' Nantasket,' the Captin and i couldn't very well talk afore 'em on the subjects we wanted to speak of, so we held a sort of Quaker's meetiu', and said notbin'. I pulled the peak of my cap over my eyes, for the sun dazzled me, and aforo I knowed where I was, I was off into one of my day-dreams, that I sometimes indulge in. I was musin* on what a strange thing life is, what a curious feller man is, and what a phantom we pursue all the time, thinkin' it points the way to happiness, instead of enticin' us into swamps, quagmires, and lagoons. Like most day-dreams it warn't very coherent, for one thought leads to another, and that has au affinity to something else ; and so at last the thread of it, if it don't get tangled, ain't very straight, that's a fact. I shall put it down as if I was a talkin' to you about everything in general and nothin' in particular. Sais I to myself, the world has many nations on the face of it, I reckon, but there ain't but four classes among them : fools and knaves, saints and sinners. Fools and sinners form the bulk of mankind ; rogues are numerous everywhere, while saints — real salts — are few in number, fewer, if you could look into their hearts, than folks think. I was once in Prospect Harbour, near Halifax, shortly arter a Boston packet had been wracked there. All that could float had been picked up, or washed away ; but the heavy things sank to the bottom, and these in the general way were valifixble. I saw a man in a boat with a great long tube in his hands, which he put down into the sea every now and then, and looked through, and then moved on and took another observation. It was near about dinner-time, so I thought Pd just wait, as I had noV "^n' above particular to do, and see what this thing was^ so when the t^an came on shore, " Mornin' to you," sais I ''That was an awful wreck that, warn't it?" and I looked as dismal as i'f I had lost somethin' there myself. But there was nothin' very awful about it, for everybody was saved ; and if there was some bales and boxes lost, why in a general way it's good for trade. But I said awful wrack, for I've obsarved you have to cant a little with the world, if you want even common civil usage. In fact, in calamities I never knew but one man speak the truth. He lived near a large range c f barracks that was burnt, together i=i ill I 94 THE WATER-GLASS m with all the housos round him, but ho escaped ; and his house was insured. Well, he mourned dreadful over his standing house, more than others did over their fallen ones. He said, " He was ruinated ; he lived by the barrack expenditure, and the soldiers were removed, and the barracks were never to be rebuilt; and as he was insured, he'd a been a happy man, if his house had been burnt, and he had recovered the amount of his loss." Now that man I always respected; he was an honest man. Other folks would have pretended to be thankful for so narrow an f^scape, but thought in their hearts just as he did, only they wouldn't be manly enough to say so. But to get back to my story. " Awful wrack that I" said I, dolefully. '* Well, it was considerable, but it might have been wuss," said he, quite composed. Ah ! sais I to myself, I see how it is, you haint lost anything, that's clear, but you are lookin' for somethin'. " Sarching for gold ?" said I, laughin', and goin' on t'other tack. " Every vessel, the;f say, is loaded with gold now-a-days ?" " Well," sais he, smiling, " I aint sarching for gold, for it aint so plenty on this coast ; but I am sarching for zinc : there are several rolls of it there." "What was that curious tube," sais I, *'if I might be so bold as to ax?'' " Sartain," sais he, " it's a water-glass. The bottom of that tube has a large plate of glass in it. When you insert the tube into the sea, and look down into it, you can perceive the bottom much plainer than you can with a naked eye." " Good \" sais I ; " now that's a wrinkle on my horn. I daresay a water-glass is a common thing, but T never heard of it afore. Might it be your invention, for it is an excellent one." He looked up suspicious like. " Never heard of a water-glass ?" he said, slowly. " May I ask what your name mought be?" "Sartainly," sais I, "friend; you answered me my question civilly, and I will answer yours. I'm Sam Slick, sais I, at least what's left of me." "Sam Slick, the Clockmaker?" sais he "The same," said I, "and never heard of a water-glass?" "Never! Mr. Slick," said he, "I'm not so simple as you take me to be. You can't come over me that way, but you are welcome to that rise, anyhow. I wish you good niornin'." Now that's human natur' all over. A man is never astonished or ashamed that he don't know what another docs ; hut he is sur- •prised at the gross ignorance of the other in not /cnoiciyi' ichat he does. But to return. If instead of the water-glass (which I vow \o man I never heard of it before that day), if we had a breast-glass i ^ OR, A DAT-DREAM OP LIFE. 95 Iw to look into the heart, and read what is wrote, and see what 13 passin' there, a great part of the saints — them that don't know music or paintiu' and call it a waste of precious time, and can't dance, and call it wicked, and won't go to parties, because they are so stupid no one will talk to them, and call it sinful — a great lot of the saints would pass over to the sinners. Well, the sinners must be added to the fools, and it swells their numbers up considerable, for a feller must be a fool to be a sinner at all, seein' that the way of the trans- gressers is hard. Of the little band of rael sails of saints, a considerable some must be added to the fools' ranks too, for it aint every pious man that's wise, though he may have sense enough to be good. Arter this deduction, the census of them that's left will show a small table, that's a fact. When the devoted city was to be destroyed, Abraham begged it off for fifty righteous men. And then for forty-five, and finally for ten ; but arter all, only Lot, his wife, and two daughters was saved, and that was more from marcy than their desarts, for they warnt no great shakes arter all. Yes, the breast-glass would work wonders, but I don't think it would be overly safe for a man to in- vent it; he'd find himself, 1 reckon, some odd night a plaguey sight nearer the top of a lamp-post, and farther from the ground than was agreeable; and wouldn't the hypocrites pretend to lament him, and say he was a dreadful loss to mankind t That being the state of the cas(j, the great bulk of humans may be classed as fools and knaves. The last are the thrashers and sword-fishes, and grampuses and sharks of the sea of life ; and the other the great shoal of com- mon fish of different sorts, that seem made a-purpose to feed these hungry onmarciful critters that take 'em in by the dozen at one swoop, and open their mouths wide, and dart on for another meal. Them's the boys that don't know what dyspepsy is. Considera- ble knowin' in the way of eatin', too, takin' an appertizer of sar- dines in the mornin' afore breakfastin' on macarel, and having lob- ster sauce with their cod-fish to dinner, and a barrel of anchovies to disgest a light little supper of a boat-load of haddock, halibut, and flat fish. Yes, yes ! the bulk of mankind is knaves and fools; reli- gious knaves, political knaves, legal knaves, quack knaves, trading knaves, and sarvent knaves; knaves of all kinds and degrees, from officers with gold epaulettes on their shoulders, who sometimes con- descend to relieve (as they call it) a fool of his money at cards, down to thimble-rigging at a fair. The whole continent of America, from one end of it to the other, is overrun with political knaves and quack knaves. They are the greatest pests we have. One undertakes to improve the constitution of the country, and the other the constitution of the body, and their everlastin' tinkerin' injures both. How in natur folks can be so taken in, I don't know. Of all knaves, I consider thena two the ■^^ ^ TUB W ATE Il-G LASS) >1 -'' i I M most (I'lugcroiw, f i' both cloal in poisonous deadly medieinGS. On«J pyson^J people's luiuds, and tho otiior their liudics. One unsettles their heads, and the otiier thoir stoniachjj, and 1 do believe in my heart and soul that's the eauso wc Yankees look ko thin, hollow in tho cheeks, narrow in the chest, and gtindor-waisted. Wo boasf. of being tho happiest people in tho world. The President tella tho Congress that lockruui dvery year, and every year the Congress sais, " Tho' there ain't much truth in you, old slippiry-go-easy, at no time, that^s no lie at any rate." Every young lady sais, "I guess that's a fact." And every boy that coaxed a little hair to grow on his upper lip, puts his arm round his gall's waist and sais, "That's as true as rates, wc are happy, and if you would only name the day, wo shall bo still happier." Well, this is all fine talk ; but what is bein' a happy people ? Let's see, for hang me if I think we are a happy people. When I was a boy to night-school with my poor dear old friend, the minister, and arterwards in life as his oompanion, he was for ever- lastingly corrcctin' me about words that I used wrong, so one day, having boon down to the sale of the effects of the great llcvulutionary (jrcneral, Zaddoo Seth, of Holmes' Hole, what docs he do but buy ,'i Johnson's Dictionary for me in two volumes, each as big as a clock, •and a little grain heavier than my wooden ones. " Now," sais he, " do look out words, Sam, so as to know what you are a-talking about." ■ One day, I recollect it as v/cll as if it was yesterday — and if I loved a man on earth, it was that man — I told him if I could only go to the Thanksgiving Ball, I should be quite happy. " Happy !" said he, " what's that ?" "Why happy," sais I, "is — bein* happy, to bo sure." " Why that's of course," sais he, " a dollar is a dollar, but that don't inform me what i dollar represents. I told you you used words half tho time you did'nt understand the meauin' of." " But I do," sais I ; happy means being so glad, your heart is ready to jump out of its jacket for joy." " Yes — yes," sais he; " and I suppose if it never jumped back again, you would be unhappy for all the rest of your life. I see j'ou have a very clear conception of what Miappy' means. Now look it out ; let us sec what the great and good Dr. Johnson says." " He sais it is a state where the desires are satisfied — lucky — ready." " Now," said he, "at most, as it applies to you, if you get leave to go to the ball, and you may go, for I approbate all inn)cent amusements for young people, you would be only lucky; and in a stale where one desire is satisfied. It appears to mo," said he, and he put one leg over tho other, and laid his head a little back, as if ho was a-goia' to lay down the law, " that that eminent man has omitted OR, A DAYDREAM OF L I F E 97 13 Ivo Int a hd be another sense in wliicli tliis word is pro]»ei'ly used — naincly, a Btite of j(»yf'uliie8s — li^lit-iicai todiiess — iiu'irinient, hut w«^ won't htop to in(|uire into tliar. Jt is ^vvnt ])rt',sunition lor the likes of mo to attempt to criticibo J)r. Johnson." Poor dear ohl soul, ho was a wiser and a modester man than ever tl»o ohl. doctor was. Ffict is, ohl dictionary was very fond of play- in' first fiddle wherever he was. Thvndcriji' long words aint wisdom, and stoppiii' a criftefs moulk is more apt to improve his wind than his oiid(trstandin\ •' You may go to the ball,'' said he ; " and I Ijope you may bo happy in the last sense I have f^iveii it." "Thank you Sir," said 1, and off I cuts hot foot, when ho called^nie back; I had a great mind to pretend not to iiear him, for 1 was afraid he was a-goin' to renig — " Sam," said he, and he h(dd out his hand and took mine, and looked very seriously at me: " Sam, my son," said ho, *' now that 1 have granted you ])ormission to go, there is one thing 1 want y«ni to ])romise me. .1 think myself you will do it without any promise, but I should ]ik(; to have your word." " I Avill observe any direction you may give me, Sir," said I. " Siim," said he, and his face grew so long and blank, i hardly knew what was a-comin' next, "Sam," said he, "don't let your heart jump out of its jac' "t," and he laid back in his chair and laughed like anythin', in fac? T could not help laughin' myself to find it all eend in a jol;e. J^resently he let go my hand, took both hisn, and wiped his eyes, for tears of fun were in 'em. "M ister," sais I, " Avill you let me just Si ' a word ''" " Yes," sais he. " Well, according to Dr. Tohnson's third sense, that was a ha])])y thought, for it was * ready ^^ " Well, I won't say it warn't," said he; " and, Sarn, in that sense you are likely to be a happy man all your life, for you are always 'ready;' take care you aint too sharp." But to go back, for I go round about sometimes. Tho' Daniel Webster, said I, was like a good sportin'-dog, if I did beat round the bush, I always put up the birds. What is a happy people? If bavin' enough to eat and to drink, wMth rather a short, just a little mite and mosel too short an .;,; .ance of time to swaHer it, is bein' happy, then we are so bcyoiui doubt. If livii.' in a free country like Maine, where you ar;- <•< mpelled to drink stagnant swamp-water, but can eat opium like a Chinese, if you choose, is bein' h.'ippy, then we are a iiappy people. Just walk thro' the happy s' reets of our happy villages, and look at the men — all busy — in a hurry, thoughtful, anxious, full of busi- ness, toilin' from day dawn to night — look at tho women, the dear 9 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k k^. ^0 ^° l^ I/. 1.0 I.I IIM ill 2.5 1^ — ■^ 1^ 12.2 I^ 1114 ™^ III 1.8 1.25 1.4 J4 ^ 6" — ► Photogi-aphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STkSbf WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ) i/l 98 THE WATER-GLASS I ;?' ■V •I J 1 n r & I > i\ ^ I critters, a little, just a little care-worn, tiine-worn, climate-worn, pretty aa angels, but not quite so merry. Follow tlicm in the even- ing, and see Avbere them crowds are going to ; why to hear abolition lectures, while their own free niggers are starvin', and are taught that stealin' is easier than workin'. What the plague they do have to do with the aflairs of the South ? Or to hold communion witli evil spirits by means of biology, for the deuce of a thing else is that or mesmeric tricks either? Or going to hear a feller rave at a pro- tracted nieetin', for the twelfth night, to convince them how happy they ought to be, as more than half of them at least, are to be damned, to a dead sartainty ? Or hear a mannish, raw-boned-look- ing old maid, lecture on the rights of women; and call on them to emancipate themselves from the bondage imposed on them, of wear- ing petticoats below their knees? If women are equal to men, why shouldn't their dress be equal ? What right has a feller to wear a kilt only as far as his knee, and compel his slave of a wife to wear hern down to her ankle ? Draw your scissors, galls, in this high cause ; cut, rip, and tear away, and make short work of it. Rend your garments, and Ueaven will bless them that's ^'In-lnced." Well, if this is bein' happy, then we are a happy people. Folks must be more cheerful and light-hearted then we be to be happy. They must laugh more. Oh 1 I like to hear a good jolly laugh, a regular nigger larf — yagh ! yagh ! yagh ! My brother, the doctor, who has an immense pn ctice among the ladies, told me a very odd story about this. Sais he, "Sam, cheerfulness is health, and health is happiness, as near as two things not exactly identical, can be alike. I'll tell you the secret of my practice among the ladies. Cheerfulness appears to be the proper remedy, and it is in the most cases. I extort a promise of inviolable secrecy from the patient, and secure '.he door, for I don't want my prescription to be known; then I bid her take off her shoes, and lie down on the sofa, and then I tickle her feet to make her laugh (for some folks are so stupid, all the good stories in the world wouldn't make them laugh), a good, joyous laugh, not too long, for that is exhaustin', and this repeated two or three times a-day, with proper regimert, eJects the cure." Yes, cheerfulness is health, the opposite, melancholy, is disease. I defy any people to be happy, when they hear nothin' from morn- nin' till night, Avhen business is over, but politics and pills, repre- sentatives and lotions. When I was at Goshen the other day, I asked Dr. Carrot how many doctors there were in the town. "One and three-quarters," said he, very gravely. Well, knowing how doctors quarrel, and undervalue each other in small places, I could hardly help laughing at the decidedly ■A : :\ OR, A DAY-DREAM OP LIFE 99 disparaging vay he spoke of Dr. Parsnip, his rival, especially as there was something rather new in it. "Three-quarters of a medical man! " said I. "I suppose you mean, your friend has not a regular-built education, and don't de- serve the name of a doctor." "Oh no ! Sir," said he, "I would not speak of any practition- er, however ignorant, in that way. What I mean is just this : Goshen would maintain two doctors ; but quack medicines, which are sold at all the shops, take about three-quarters of the support that would otherwise be contributed to another medical man." Good, sais I, to myself. A doctor and three-quarters! Come, I won't forget that, and here it is. Happy ! If Dr. Johnson is right, then I am right. He says happiness means a state where all our desires are satisfied. Well now, none of our desires are satisfied. We are told the affairs of the nation are badly managed, and I believe they be ; politicians have mainly done that. We are told our insides are wrong, and I believe they be ; quack doctors and their medicines have main- ly done that. Happy ! How the plague can we be happy, with our heads unsettled by politics, and our stomachs by medicines. It can't be ; it ain't in natur', it's onpossible. If I was wrong, as a boy, in my ideas of happiness, men are only full grown boys, and are just as wrong as I was. I ask again what is happiness ? It aint bein' idle, that's a fact — no idle man or woman ever was happy, since the world began. Eve was idle, and that's the way she g'ot tempted, poor critter; employment gives both appetite and digestion. Duty makes jjlcds- urc douhljj sweet bij contrast. When the harness is off, if the work aint too hard, a critter likes to kick up his heels. WJien pleasure is the business of life, it ceases to be ^7/e««Mre / and when ifs all labour and no ylay^ work like an onstuffed saddle cuts into the very bone. Neither labour nor idleness has a road that leads to happiness, one has no room for the heart, and the other corrupts it. Hard work is the best of the two, for that has at all events sound sleep — the othei; has restless pillows and onrefreshin' slumbers — one is misfortune, the other is a curse; and money aint happiness, that's as clear as mud. There was a feller to Slickville once called Dotey Conkey, and he sartinly did look dotey like lumber that aint squared down enough to cut the sap off. He was always a wishing. I used to call him Wishey Washey Dotey. "Sam," he used to eay, I wish I Mjas rich." " So do I," I used to say. "If I had fifty thousand dollars," he said, "I wouldn't call the President my cousin." "Well," sais I» " I can do that now, poor as I be ; he is uo cousin 100 OLD SARSAPARILLA IMLLS. !* • its of iriine, and if he was he'd be no credit, for he is no great shakes. Genih'uuMi now don't set up for that office; they can't live on it." "Oli, i don't mean that," he said, "but fifty thousand doHars, Sam, oidy think of that; aint it a great suni, that; it's all I shonKl ask in this workl of providence: if I had that I sliould be the li.Mppiest man that ever was." "iJot«'y," sais I, " would it cure you of the coiic? you know how you Buiier from that." "Phooi" sais he. *'Well, what would you do with it?" sais I. '•I Avoiild go and travel," sais he, "and get into society and see the world." ''Would it educate you, Dotey, at your age give you French and (iernian, Latin and Greek, and so on?" "itire it, Sum," sais he, touching his nose with his fore-finger. "And nianucrs," sais I, "could you hire that'/ I will tell you what it could do for you. You could getdruidc every night if you ]ik('(i, surround yourself with spongers, horse jockies, ami foreign counts, and go to the devil by rail-road instead of a one horse shay." Well, ;\s luck would have it, he drew a prize in the lottery at New Orleans of just that sura, and in nine months he was cleaned out, and sent to the asylum. It taint cash then that gains it ; that's as plain as preaching. What is it then that confers it? "A rope," said Blowhard, as we reached the side of the 'Nan- taskct,' " in with your oars my men. Now Mr, Slick, let's take a dose of Sarsl])arUhj ^^ills" I > t • If-: ! CHAPTER XI. OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS. " Come, Mr. Attachy," said Blowhard, as we mounted the deck of the * Nantasket,' "let's go down to Apothecary's Hall;" and he larfed agin in great good humour. When we entered the cabin, which sartainly looked more like au herb uid medicine shop than any thin' else, we found the Oapting seated at the table, with a pair of small scales in his hand, carefully adjiistiii' the weight of somethin' that had just been prepared by a boy, who sat in the corner, and was busy with a pestle and mortar. " How are you, Doctor?" said Blowhard in his blandest manner. "This is Mr. Slick. We have come to ask you if you will take a patient on board, who wants to return home, and whom Provi- dence has just sent you in here to relieve 1 " OLD S A R S A P A R I L L A PILLS. 101 ''What's the matter Avith him.'" iiujuircd the quack Capthi, witli the ah' of a nian who had but to liear aud to euro. Love explained brefly the jstate ol' the case ; aud, having; ob- tained his consent, asked me to request one of the hands to hoist a fla^, as the signal agreed upon for bringing the invalid on board. " Proud to see you, Mr. Slick," said the quack Captin. " Take a cliair, and bring yourself to an anchor. You are Avelcome on board tlie ' Nantasket.' " Instead of an aged man, witli a white beard, large spectacles, and an assumed look of great experience, as I expected to have seen, from the nickname of" Old Sarsaparilla Pills," given to him by the skipper. 1 was surprised to find he was not past five-and-thirty years of age. He was a sort of French craft on a vigorous Yankee stock. His chiu and face were covered with long black hair, out of whicli twinkled a pair of bright, sparkling, restless eyes. His dress and talk was New England, bat French negligence covered all, and was as onploasaut and disorderly as the deck ; for the Yankees are a neat peojile, in a ^neral way, and like to see things snug and tidy. If, in his appearance, he was halt' French and half Yankee, it was plain he Avas also half knave and half goney. The oidy thing I saw to like about him was, that he was a man with a theory ; and a theory, to my mind, Avhethcr in- political economy or in medicine, is the most beautiful tiling in tlie Avorld. They say an empty bag can't stand straight. Well, Avho the plague cares if it can't Avhen yon have nothin' to put into it ? for it would only be in the Avay, and take up room, if it could. Noav, a theorv Avill stand as straisrht as a bullrush, Avithout a fact at all, Arguments, probabilities, and lies Avill do just as Avell. But if folks must have facts, Avhy the only plan is to manufacture 'em. What's the use of the Crystal I'alace, and all its discoveries, if statesmen can't invent facts ? Sometimes one fact depends on another, aud that on a third, and so on. Well, to make anything of them, you must reason. Well, Avhat on airth is the use of reason ? Did you ever see a man that could reason if A dog can, but then a dog has some sense. If he counts to a place Avhere four roads meet, he stops and considers, and weighs all the probabilities of the case, /-'/•o and cuu for each road. At last, he makes up his mind ; goes on confi- dent ; and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he is right. But place a man there, andAvhat Avould he do ? Why he'd look like a ravin', distracted fool : he'd scratch his head, and say, " I don't know, 1 declare ; I don't know, I am sure ;" the only thing the critter is sure about. And then he'd sit down on a stone, and Avait till some one come by to tell him. Well, after waitin' there till he is eon amost tired out, the first man that rides by, he'd jump up so siuldcn, he'd scare the horse, that shies aAvfully, and nearly spills the rider ; and Avouldu't he get 9* 102 OLD 6ARSAPARILLA PILLS. n i; 1^ fl ■ II ^'1 U. J;ii ,J-'>' '§ !:■ t| 1:4 more blessings than would last him a whole whalin' voyage 1 "Well, the next man that comes by, drivin' in a gig, he goes more coolly to work to stop ; when traveller pulls out a pistol, and sais, " Stand off, you villian ! I am armed, and will fire ! " Well, the third sets a fierce dog on him, and asks him what he is a doin' of there ? And when he inquires the way, he puts his finger to his nose, and says, ''That cat won't jump, old boy.'' Well, the next chap that comes along, is a good-natured feller. He is a whistlin' a tune, or singing an air, as light-hearted as you please ; and hittin' of loose stones with his cane, as he trips along ; and when he axes him the way, he shows it to him as perlite as possible, and says it is the very road he is going, and will walk abit with him to the next turn, where they must part. This world aint so bad, after all, as it looks ; there are some good-natured folks In it, that's a fact, that will do a civil thing now and then for nothin' but the pleasure, but they aint quite as thick as blackberries, I can tell you. Well, at the turn of the road there is an ale-house, and the good-natured stranger pulls out some money, like a good Samaritan, and gives him a drink for nothin.' " Now," sais he, " friend, suppose you qualify ? " " Qualify ? " sais the critter, more puzzled than he was at tho four roads. " Qualify ! does that mean stand treat 1 for if it doeth, 1 don't care if I does," " Come, none of that nonsense, my good feller," sais the other, wliose air and manner is changed in a minute, so that he don't look like the same man. " Come, come, you aint so soft as that. You are listed. Feel in your waistcoat pocket, and there is her Maj- esty's shilling." " Danged if I do," sais this vartuous and reasonable being ; •' danged if I do ; 1 11 fight till I die fust — " when he is knocked down, hears a whistle, and three men come in, iron him to another feller that didn't know the road any better than him, and off he is marched to see his oflicer. I saw that critter mountin' guard at the Ordnance Gate, at Halifax, last winter at night, mercury sixteeii below zero, cold enough amost to freeze the hair off of a dog's back. That's because he couldn't reason. Little doggy we've seen could reason v»nd reason well, and was home half an hour before • thirteen-pence a-day' was lis- ted, to have a finger, or a toe, or an ear froze off on duty. There is no pension for a toe, unless it's the gout in an old admiral or gineral's toe. No, reasonin' is no good. That that is good reasonin' aint market- able, bad reasonin is like some factory cloth, half cotton, half old clothes, carded over agin' at Manchester, and is low-priced, just fit ed under way, get party hi OLD SARSAPARILLA PILLS. 103 • Maj- P l(3a(liM", That's tlie caso too with freo.-traders, they sin<2^out' cheap broad ;' it don't want reasoiiin' except clieap reasoiiin'. Don't cheap hread cost less tliait dear bread ? Why yes, in course it does. Well then iVee-trade does that ; don't you wish you may be better of it. No, reasonin' is no good, and facts are no good; i'or they aie as cheap as words which only cost a halfpenny a hun- dred, and two farthings change given back. 1 like a theory ; it is a grand thing to work a I'arni by whcm you liave no experience, and govern a nation by when the eh'ct- ors are as wise as that are racruit, that couldn't even follow his nose. Captin Furhjng had a theory, and hadn't he asgood a right to have oi'.e as Peel, or any other practitioner, either in politics.or med- icine, or farniin' or anythin' else ? Why to be sure ho had. " Mr. Slick," said he, and he put one leg over the other, threw his head back, and gave nia a sort of fixed stare, just one of those stares you see a follow now and then put on who shuts to his ears and opens his eyes wide, as inuch as to say " now don't interrupt nic, fm- 1 mean to have all the talk to myself." Whenever I see a critter do that, I am sure to stop him every minute, for 1 have no notion of a fellow taking me like a laml), and tying me hand and foot to offer up as a sacrilice to his vanity. " Mr. Slick," said he, " I have a theory." " 'Zactly," said I, " it's just what you ought to have ; you can no more get on in medicine without a theory to carry out, than a receipt to work by. I knowed a chap OMCt — " but he gave me the dodge, cut in agin, and led off. " I have a theory that for every disease natur' has provided a voiuedy, if we could onl} find it." " 'Zactly," said 1, "let natur' alone, and nine times out often she will effect a cure ; it's my theory that more folks die of the doctor than the disease. 1 knew a feller onct — " but he headd me agin " Now this remedy is to be found in simjiles, herbs, barks, vege- tables, and so on. The aborigines of no country ever were sap- pers and miners, Mr. Slick, many of them were so ignorant as not even to know the use of fire, and therefore the remedy was never intended to be hid, like mercury and zinc and what not, in the beco- wels of the earth." " 'Zactly," said I, " but in the beeowels of the patient" He lifted up his hairy upper lip at that, and backed agin his nose, for all the world as you have seed a horse poke out his head, and strip his mouth, that was rather proud of his teeth; but he went on : " There is a specific and an antidote for everythin' in natur.' " " 'Zactly," sais I. " Do you know .ni antidote for fleas 1 for I do. It's a plant found in every sizable sarce garden ; they hate it like pyson. I never travc' without it. When 1 was in Italy last, I slept 104 OLD SAIISAPAUILLA PILLS. tlit lUli Bf if i in a (louble-bcdJcd room with tho Honourable Erastus Cassina, a senator from Alligator Gully to Congress, and the fleas was awful thick. So I jiat took out of the pocket of my dressin'-gown four little bags of this ' flea-antidote ;' two I put on the bed, and two under it. Oh ! if there warn't a flight in Egypt that night, it's a pity I In a few minutes, Erastus called out : " ' Slick ! Slick !' said he, ' are you awake 1" " ' What in natur' is the matter ?" sais I. *' ' Oh, the fleas ! the fleas !' said he. * Clouds on 'em are lightin* on my bed, and I shall be devoured alive. They are wus than alli- gators, for tJiet/ do the job for you in two twos j but these imps of darkness nibble you up, and take all night to it. They are so spry, you can't catch 'em, and so small you can't shoot 'em. I do believe every flea in the house is coming here.' * "'That's the cane-juice that's in you,' sais I; 'you are the sweetest man alive — all sugar ; they are no fools, are fleas.' " * Do they bother you ?' said he. " ' No,' sais I, ' I hante one.' " ' Then/ sai been everywhere amost, and as he travels with his eyes open, ha& seen everythin,'. I don't suppose his stories are all just Gospel, bul they aint far off the mark for all that ; more like a chalk sketch of a coast made on the deck, perhaps, than a printed chart, not done to measurement, but like enough to steer by. And then, when you are a-shore, if you want to see fun, set him to rig a Blue-uose, as he did old Sarsepcrilly Pills yesterday, till he hollered and called for mercy, and it will make you split. Come, that's settled now, sposen we have a glass of grog at partin'. Mr. Slick, here is your ald Eagle,' the sailors, to testify their regard for their old officer, gave three cheers, a com- pliment that was returned when we reached our vessel, with u hearty good will. It was a splendid sight to see this fleet of thirty -six sail of fishin'-craft that now got under way, all of them beautiful U I I 1 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. • 111 models, DGcatly and uniformly painted, well-rigged, and cheir white cotton canvas sails cut, so as to lay up to the wind like a board, and the whole skimmin' over the water as lii^ht as sea-,<^uild. When we consider this was only an accidental niw^ctin' of some scattered out- ward nnd homeward bound vessels, and was merely a specimen of whaf was to be seen from this to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, I actilly do think, without any crackin' or boastiu' on the subject, that we have great reason to be proud of our splendid mackerel fleet. As the 'Bald Eagle' left her anchorage, Cutler said, with a smile: " Do you hear, my dear old friend, the most good-natured man ia the world, how he is btormin' ? This is one oif the exceptions he himself makes — he is rile<« now. Poor old Blowhard ! If you are not the best tempered, as you so often boast, you certainly are the kindest-hearted man in the world, and no one knows it better and appreciates it more highly than I do." In the meantime, instead of going with either portion of the fleet, we sailed past M'Nutt's Island into the entrance of the magniticent harbour of Shelburu, the largest, the best, the safest, and the most beautiful on the whole American coast, from Labrador to Mexico, where we came to anchor. Takiu' two hands in the boat, I steered to the point of laud that forms the southern entrance, and crossia* the little promontory, proceeded to search for Mr. Eldad Nickerson, whom I intended to hire as pilot and assistant to the coward mate in his land trade, and as a hand in the place of Mr. Enoch Eells, for I knew him to be a trustworthy, intelligent, excellent man. Near the first house on the way, I met a smart, active-looking boy of about thirteen years of age. " V/hose house is that, boy?" "Ouru, Sir." "Who lives there?" "Feeather Peter Potter, Sir." " Is he at hum ?" "Yes." " Do you know Mr. Eldad Nickerson ?" "Yes." " Is he at hum ?" "Yes, I just now saw him cross the fields to his house." " Well, do you run after him us fast as your legs can carry you, and tell him that Mr. Slick is at Squire Peter Potter's a-waitiu' for him." '' Feeather bcant a squire. Sir," said the boy. " Well, he ought to be then. Tell him Mr. Slick wants W see him down to the squire's." " I tell you Peter Potter beant a squire, Sir." " And I tell you he O'^^bt to be a squire, then, and I'll ju-^t go iu and see about it." ! i n' ml ' 112 • THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. "Well, I wish you would, Sir," said the boy, "for some how feeatber thinks he aint kind of been well used." " Tell Mr. Nickerson," said I, " to come at once ; and now run as if old Scratch kicked you on eend, and when you come back I will give you half-a-dollar." The boy darted off like an arrow from a bow; half-a-dollar certain, and the prospect of a seat in the quarter sessions for his /cc'ather were great temptations; the critter was chock full of hope. Boys are like men, and men are like boys, and galls and women are both alike, too; they live on hope — false hopes — hopes without any airthly foundation in natur' but their own foolish consaits. Hope ! what is hope ? expectin' some unsertin thing or another to happen. Well, sposen it don't happen, why then there is a nice little crop of disappointment to disgest, that's all. What's the use of hopen at all then ? I never could see any use under the sun in it. That word ought to be struck out of every dictionary. I'll tell Webster so, when he gets out a new edition of hisn. Love is painted like a little angel, with wings, and a bow and arrow, called Cupid — the name of mother's lap-dog. Many's the one I've painted on clocks, little, chubby-cheeked, onmeaneii, fat, lubberly, critters. I suppose it typifies that love is a fool. Yes, and how he docs fool folks, too I Boys and galls fall in love. The* boy is all attention and devotion, and the gall is all smiles, and airs, and graces, and pretty little winniu' ways, and they bill and coo, and get married because they hope. Well, what do they hope ? Oh, they hope they will love all the days of their lives, and they hope their lives will be ever so long just to love each other ; its such a sweet thing to love. Well, they hope a great deal more I guess. The boy hopes arter he's married his wife will smile as sweet as ever and twice as often, and be just as neat and twice as neater, her hair lookin' like part of the head, so tight, and bright, and glossy, and parted on the top like a little path in the forest. A path is a sweet little thing, for it seems made a purpose for courtin', it is so lonely and retired. Natur teaches its use, he says, for the breeze as it whispers kisses the leaves, and helps the flowering shrubs to bend down and kiss the clear little stream that waits in an eddy for it afore it moves on. Poor fellow, he aint spoony at all. Is he? And he hopes that ncr temper will be as gentle and as meek and as mild as ever; in fact, no temper at all — all amiability — an angel in petticoats. Well, she hopes every minute he has to spare he will fly to her on the wings of love — legs aint fast enough, and runnin might hurt his lungs, buty/y to her — and never leave her, but bill and coo for ever, Hud will let her will be /r/.s law; sartaiuly wont want her to wait on nim, but for him to tend on her, the devoted critter like a heavenlj? ministering white he-nigger. THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 113 ;i' that ; m Well, n tlio t his ever, Well, don't they hope they may get all this? And do they ? Jist go into any house you like, and the last two that talks is these has been lovers. They have said their say, and are tired talking ; they have kissed their kiss, and an onion has spiled it ; they have strolled their stroll, for the dew is on the grass all day now. His dress is ontidy, and he smokes a short black pipe, (he didn't even smoke a cigar before he was married), and the ashes get on his waistcoat ; but who cares ? it's only his wife to see it — and ho kinder guesses he sees wrinkles, where he never saw 'em afore, on her stocking ancles j and her shoes are a little, just a little, down to heel ; and she comes down to breakfast, with her hair and dress lookin' as if it was a little more neater, it would be a little more better. He sits up late with old friends, and he lets her go to bed alone j and she cries, the little angel ! but it's only because she has a head- ache. The heart — oh! there's nothing wrong there — but she is lately troubled with shockin' bad nervous headache^', and can't think what in the world is the cause. The dashing young gentleman hap got awful stingy too, lately. He sais housekeepin' costs too much, rips out an ugly word every now and then, she never heerd afore j but she hopes — what does the poor dupe hope ? Why, she hopes he aint swcariu ; but it sounds amazin' like it — that's a fact. What is that ugly word "dam," that he uses so often lately? and she looks it out in the dictionary, and she finds "dam" means the '* mother of a colt." Well, she hopes to be a mother herself, some day, poor critter ! So her hope has ended in her findiu' a mare's nest at last. More things than that puzzle her poor little head. What does he see to be for everlastinly a praisin' that ugly virago of a woman, Mrs. Glass — callin' her such an excellent housekeeper and capital manager; and when asked if she understands music, sayin' she knows somethin* much better than that. "What, dear?" " Oh ! never mind." "But I insist;" (^insist is the first strong word : take care, you little dear, or it will soon be one of the weakest. Mind your stops, dear; it sends a husband ofi" like a hair-trigger gun); "but I insist." "What, insist! Well, come, I like that amazingly." "I mean I should like to know, dear;" (Ah! that's right, my sweet friend, for I do love the little critters ; for it's bad trainin' and bad handlin' arterwards, by bad masters, that so often spiles them. That's right ; lower your tone, dear ; you'll have occasion to raise it high enough, some of these days, perhaps) ; " I should like to know, dear, what she knows better than that ? You used to say you was 80 fond of music, and stan^ by the piano, and turn over the leaves 3 iii In I 1 : I 114 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. and be so angry if anybody talked when I sang, and said I could have made a fortin on tlie stage. Tell me what she knows better, dear ? Is it painting? You used to be so fond and so proud of my painting. Tell mo, dear, what does she know better?" That little touchin' and nateral appeal about the music and paintin' saved her that time. She got put oft' with a kiss, which she didn't hardly hope for, and that made it doubly sweet. What people hoj^e for, they think at last they have a rujht to, and when they are disappointed, they actiUy think they are ill-used j but un- expected luck makes the heart dance, and it saved her from hearin* what she did arterwards, for the unfeelin' rascal was agoin to tell hor that what Mrs. Glass knew, that was better, was how to make a puddin'. Well, the child hope painted was to be a blessin', not a little angel, that aint good enough ; but a cherubim or seraphim at least. Well, it did resemble them in one respect, for '' they con- tinually do cry." What a torment it was ! Teethin', hoopin'-cough, measles, scarlatina, the hives, the snufiles, the croup, the influenza^ and the Lord knows what, all came to pay their respects to it. Just as fast as one plague of Egypt went, another came. Well, if the nursery told 'em how foolish it was to hope, the world told 'em in rougher language the same thing at a time when the temper was too sour to bear it. The pretty boys, what are they ? Pretty birds ! Enough to break their parents' hearts, if they was as hard as flints. i\.ud their galls, their sweet galls, that had nur- sery-governesses, aud fashionable boardcn-schools, and music masters, and French masters, aud i^^etalian masters, aud German masters (for German is worth both French and EyeiaWan put together; it will take you from Antwerp to Russia, and from the Mediterranean to the Baltic), and every other master, and mistress, and professor, and lecturer worth havin' ; and have been brought out into company according to rule — (I never liked that regular-built bringin' out of galls J its too business-like, too much like showiu' r, filly's paces at a fair, like hangin' a piece of goods out of the window — if you fancy the article, and will give the price, 1 guess it's likely we'll come to tarms, for she is on hand, and to be disposed of) — well, arter all this hope of dear Minna, and Brenda, and Ulla, and Nina : what did hope do, the villain ? Why he looked into the drawin'-room, where they were all ready to receive company, with mamma (that dear little mamma, that it seems as if she was only married the other day, so slight, so sweet, so fuiry-like, and so handsome. I don't wonder " liubby," as she called her husband, fell in love with her; but now a great, fat, coarse, blowsy, cross woman, that I wouldn't swear didn't paint, and, don't mention it — yes! drink her Cologne water too). Well, hope peeped in at the winder, aud looked at those accomplished young ladies, with beautiful foreign and romantic ujimcs, and scrcumijd like a loon at the sight of a gun. He vowed THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT, 115 ancy me to this did vhere dear other don't her; Idn't they nearly scared him to death ; for they were as ugly as old Satan's eldest daughter, her they call Deadly Nightshade. Hope is a slippery gentleman, and has cheated more fools than ever love did, for many people pretend to love that don't. Many a feller, while he was a kissen of a gall, and had one arm round her waist, slipped the other into her pockets to feel what was there, and many a woman has inquired (no that aint fair, I swow, I won't say that, I ought to be kicked if I did) ; but there is many a gall whose friends inquire, not into a man's character, but into his balance at bis banker's, and if that aint good, into his family interest, for " friends are better than money," and fish that won't take a worm, will jump clean stark naked out of the water at red hackle. But love is neither here nor there j the rael neat article, like rael best Varginy backey, is a scarce thing ; it's either very coarse, or a counterfeit, something you wouldn't totfch with a pair of tongs, or something that is all varnish, venear, and glue. The moment it is heated it warps, and then falls to pieces. Love is a pickpocket — hope is a forger. Love robs a gall and desarts her, and the sooner she is rid of him the better, for she is young, and the world is l?ft to her, at any rate. Hope coaxes her to hoard up for the future, and she listens to the villain, and places her happiness in years to come J and when that long future arrives (a pretty short story arter all, for it so soon comes), and she goes to draw on this accumulated fund, the devil a cent is there ; hope has dravvd it all out, and gone to California. Love and hope are both rascals. I don't pity any folks that is cheated by hope, it sarves them right, for all natur' is agin hope. '^ Good and evil seldom come where theij are expected," We hante no right to rely on anybody but on Providence and ourselves. Middle men, or agents in a general way, are evil spirits, but hope is the devil. I do pity a feminine tho', that is cheated by love, for by listenin' to the iusinivations of the accomplished rascal, she don't know that the voice of natur' is in his favour, tho' he does. But I don't pity a he crittur at all. His strength, vanity, and want of principle, will carry him through an^t^m'. The spnr icoii't Jnirt icherc the hide is thich. I don't go agin love, it's only Cupid's love, boy love, calf love, and Cupid ought to be sarved like a calf. With us we veal a calf at four weeks, in England they keep him three months; but Cupid, like the calves, ought to have his throat cut at one age or the other. Man's love and woman's love is a sensible thing, aud a natural thing, and 1 approbate it, provided it is founded on — but I aint a guin' to preach. Lay and night are given to v/ork, to glorify, to jol- lify, and sleep. What right have we to take this day's happiness, bottle it up, and pnt it away for ten years, and say, '' We will then V.' I Hi J 16 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. have a splondiferous spree, uncork it, and get riproarious with delight ? Take your daily bread, and bo thankful; hut don't pray to the Lord to lay up for you tlio loaves for years to come to make you rich. Many a man Juts died about the time his great haldne to wheedle me too, if teazin' won't answer. " Oh, Sam !" says sister Sail, and railly there is no restin' of her wbon she gets at you, she has such winnin' ways about her, and smiles so Fweet, and looks to my mind handsomer than when she was .gall. Well, she watches her chance — for hope keeps her wide i.wake — and when she sees me dressed up for a party, in my best London and Paris dress, she takes hold of my whisker, and gives it % little better curl and set with her finger. " Sam," sais she, " how THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. 117 now. Ind to me her and was Iwide best hs it how well you do look ! I wouldn't go out to thi3 party, only I feel so {>roud of 9/011, and I do like to see folks look up to you so. Your ast visit to Europe did a great deal for you; it improved you so much." " Do you think so ?" sais I " Think !" sias she, a tossin' up of her pretty little head, and a sha- kin' of her beautiful ringlets, and a kissin' of me. " I don't think about it at all, I know it, and it's generally allowed to be so, it haa made you quite a man of the world, it has rubbed qff all rusticity, or what Cooper calls provincial look." " Oh ! ho !" sais I to myself, ^' I see how the cat jumps, there ia n gold chain, or a bracelet, or a cameo, or somethin' or another wanted. Well I'll play her oflF a little while and she shall have it, the dear little critter, and welcome. Oh ! Lord, a man of the world ! "Sally," sais I, "Sally," pretending to Took all taken aback, "I am Borry to hear that." " Why, dear ?" sais she. " Because, Sally, a man of the world has no heart, and I begin to think mine aiut so big or soft as it used to be." " How iiiu you say so, Sam ?" sais she, and then comes another kiss. " Better so, Sally dear," sais I, " If I was as soft as I ouct was, when I was always in love with every gall I romped with, (and I never see one that I didn't make right after), perhaps, I'd go strait off', marry in haste and repent at leisure." Well, that word marry always set her a swollerin' her breath, a3 folks do to keep down the hickups. Sally railly does love me, and no mistake ; but somehow or somehow else, it strikes me it would take her a good while to like my wife (though she will have to try oome day), for that would knock her hopes all to squash. " Marry !" said she ; " why I'm sure there aint any one half good enough for you here, Sam, so you needn't be afeard of fallin' in love to-night; but I wasn't thinkin' of the galls," said she, a-colorin' up out of consciousness. "I was thinkin' of the men." Some how or another, natur don't seem to approbate anything that aint the clear grit. The moment a lady goes to conceal an arti- fice, if, instead of hiding it with her petticoats, she covers it with blushes, " Guilty !" sais you at once. " There is the marks of blood in your face." "So you warn't thinkin' of the galls, eh, Sally? How like a woman that was !" "Sam," sais she, a-colorin' up again most beautiful, "c(o behave yourself I thought you was improved, but now I don't see you are a bit altered. But, as I was sayin', the men all look up so to you. They respect you so much, and arc kind of proud of you — they'd do anything for you. Now, Amos Kendle is to be there to-night, one It 'ft' i: 11! H :' I I : '1 \ 118 THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT of the Secretaries of State. Couldn't you speak to him about Sam ? He'd provide for him in a minute. It's amost a L'rand chance ; a word from you would do the business at onct — he won't refuse ijou." Well, it aint easy to say no to a woman, especially if that woman is a sister, and you love that sister as I do Sally. But sometimes they must listen to reason (though hope don't know such a tarm as that), and hear sense (though hope says that's heathen Greek) so, I have to let her down easy. " Sally dear," sais I, a-takin' of her hand, " Amos is a democrat, and I am a Whig, and they mix about as easy as ile and water j and the democrats are at the top of the ladder now; and in this great nation each party takes all the patronage for its own side. It's a thing just onpossible, dear. Wait until the Whigs come in, and then I'll see what I can do. But, Sally, I don't approbate ojlces for yc^mff men. Let them aim their own grub, and not eat the bread of the State. It aint half so sweet, nor half so much to be depended on. Poor Sally \" thinks I, " hop will be the death of you yet," for she said, in a faint voice : " Well, Sam, you know best. I trust all to you ; my hope is in you," and she sot down, and looked awful pale, held a smellin'-bottle to her nose, and I thought she would have fainted. Well, to make a long story short, one fine day in flies Sally to my room, all life, animation and joy. " Oh ! Sam," sais she, " 1 have groat news for you ?" " Has the blood-mare got a colt ?" sais I. " Ho !" sais she ; " how stupid you are !" " Has the Berkshire pig arrived from England ?" I knew in course what was comin', but I just did it to tease her. "No, Sam," said she, a-throwin' her arms round my neck, a-laughin', kissin', and cryin', half-distracted all at the same time, " no, Sam, the Whigs have carried their man for President. Now's the time for Sam ! you'll get an office for him ; won't you, dear?" " I'll try, dear. Pack up my things, and I'll start for Washington to-night ; but, Sally, dear, some how I don't think I can do much for Sam ; he aint known in politics, and its party men, active men, and influential men that gets places. I might obtain a foreign appointment for myself, if I wanted it." " Oh ! of course you could if you wanted it," she replied, " for you'd try then." There is no kcepin' off a woman ; if coaxin' won't do, they give you a sly touch on the raw; but I takes tliat poke, and goes on. "Because they aint always confined to party; but as for a boy like Sam, I don't know, but I'll try." Well, what, sais President, " Collector of Customs at Now Port, Rhode Island ? Why Mr. Slick, it's worth three thousand a-year. " Exactly ; that's? the reason why I asked for it." >» THE HOUSE THAT HOPE BUILT. Ill) "It's onpossible, Sir." " Well, Cape Cod ? Let me see two thousand five hundred dol- lars." " Too large, Sir, the party will never consent to it for an unknown boy; and even you, Mr. Slick, though one of us, don't mix in poli- tics; but stop, I'll see what I can do," and he turns over a large book of places, names, and salaries ; at last he sais : " Here's a vacancy that nobody has asked for. I'll make him United States' Consul for Turks Island, in the West Indies ; it's worth three thousand dollars a-year, if he don't object to the yaller-fevcr," he said, laughin', " the ophthalmia, the absence of whites, and the presence of the many blacks, and can do without fresh provisions ; it's a good office, for I defy him to spend his income, and he may add to it by trade. I am sorry I have nothin' better to offer him ; but if you, Mr. Slick, would like a diplomatic station, I shall be happy to nominate you to the Senate for other considerations weigh there as well as party. Wash- ington Irving goes to Spain, which he has illustrated. You are favourably known as attache to our embassy to St. Jimes' ; if you would like any part of the Mediterranean, or the north of Europe, why—" " Thank you. Sir," sais I, " \ prefer private to public life, and will let you know the young gentleman's determination as soon as I return." When I came home, Sally didn't cry : oh ! of course not, women don't know how, when she saw all her hopes broken to pieces, like a flower- pot that falls off a stand, leavin' nothin' but dirt, broken crockery, and squashed roses on the carpet. And Sam didn't stalk about the room, and hold up his head straight like a crane that's half choked swallowin' a great bull frog, and talk nonsense, and threaten to lick the President if ever he caught him to Slickville. Oh no ! boys never do that ; and they didn't coax and persuade me to talfe a foreign mission, on purpose to have Sam as attachS. Oh no ! of course not ; that would have looked selfish, and askin' too much of Uncle. I wonder if there is such a thing as asking too much of an uncle. Thinks I, when the Lord don't send children, the devil sends nephews and nieces. Well, hope, like an alder-bush near a ditch in the d'ko, as soon as it is cut down springs right up again, and puta forth five or six stems instead of one. There is a new hope for Sam, who railly is a handsome feller, and if he was a little taller would be most as handsome as his Uncle. " Well, what is it, Sally?" "Why, I think he will marry Miss Crowningshield, the great heiress. Her father made a million dolhirs in ile, and left it all to her. Oh ! I hope to goodness he will take my advice. She is very fond of him, and meets him more than half way. Wouldn't thct be grand, Sam?" 120 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. Vf Well, I didn't say a word. " 8.;ini, why don't you speak ? Why Sam, what ails you ?* "Sally dt-'ur," sai.s I, '^ tako care. Thi.s fortin coiuinoiiced in ilc, und will ecnd in bluhber, us sure as the world, soo if it ditn't." ^\''('ll, it did ; either lie didn't go the right way to work, or she jilted him ; hut thoy didn't hiteh horses together. Sail took to hor bed, and nearly cried her eyes out, and Sam look to a likely young heifer, that had just money enough to pay their passage, and spli(;ed and set off to California. He will do better now ho is away from his mother, if he works like a nigger day and night, aint afraid of hot suns and cold rivers, has good luvk in diggia', and don't get robbed, burnt out, or murdered. Hope will bo the death of poor Sally yet. She goes it as strong as ever, now, on Joshua Hopewell Muuroc, the second boy; and if they would only let hopiu' alone, I make no doubt but he'd do. *' No, no !" as I said to my nephew, when he went to the Pacific, ''hope ought to be struck out of the dictionary. Do your dufi/, Sam, and trufft to Providence ; have no liope and no fear ; retc'r, you have told that fib so often, you actilly belit've it now yourself." " Well, Avcll," sais I to myself, " this chap is a bit of a scoun- (Ind nr bottom, after all ; or else he is so ignorant, he don't know right from wrong. Mr. Potter," said I, " tliat maybe accordin' to Pr-vince law, but, depend uj)on it, it's agin the moral law. I don't wonder tliem hogs was hard to digest, and made you feel all the time as if you had nothin' to do, but lie down and sleep till you died. It was your pork, and not your care, that Avas too heavy. Conie, cheer up, man." After a pause, he saiij, '' You liavo the eye of a lawyer and the tongue of a minister ; but after all what is the use of talking ? I am in a regubir, tormented frizzle of a fix. I am tied hand and foot, and I can't help myself, nohow I can work it. But it's my own fault ; 1 can't blame nobody but myself. "What's done, is done ; but sometimes, when I sit down and think over what is past and what a fool I have been, I nearly go distracted ;" and he struck his forehead with his clenched fist, and looked the very pictur of despair ; and in the bitterness of his heart, said he wished he was dead. " You can't swim long agin the current, stranger," he con- tiiuu'd, " without cuttin' your throat as a pig does ; and if tliat don't hap])en, you soon get tired out, and the waters carry you down, and you are foundered for ever." " Try an eddy," said I : " you ought to know enough of the stream of life to find one of them ; and then you would work up river as if it was flood-tide. At the end of the eddy is still water, where you can rest for another struggle." " Yes,"' said he, bitterly ; and at the end of life, there's the grave, where the struggle is ever. It is too late now ; i have no hope." " ^[r. Potter,"' said I, " poverty is full of privations, vexations, and mortifications, no doubt, and is hard to bear. The heart of man is naturally proud, and poverty humbles it to the dust ; but poverty ki m III V'l f ' :!; 130 THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. can be endured — honest poverty, and so can misfortun' provided memory don't charge it to our own folly, as it does in your case." " Oil, Sir !" said he, " when I look back sometimes, I go well nigh mad." " What has made you mad, ought to make you wise, my friend," I replied. " A' good pilot has a good memory ; lie knows every current, sunk rock, shoal, breaker, and sand-bar; havin', as like as not been in a scrape onct or twice on all of them. A^emor)/ is nnth'in'' hut experience,. The ^nemorij of the tvrong way Iccjis us in the right one, and the memory of the right road reminds (if pleas- ant journeys. To mourn to-day over the wreck of yesterday only increases the loss, and diminishes the value of what little is I (ft to us. If you are in a fix, back water, throw the lead, look out for a channel, and pull into some cove or another!" " Nothin' but Providence can help me I" he said, shaking his head ; " and I have no hope of that, for I don't deserve its interr fere nee." " I guess not," said I, "for Providence requires three things of us afn-e it will help us — a stout heart, a strong arm, and a stiff upper lip. Can you iish ?" " I guess I can ! I won't turn my back on no man in these parts, either for mackerel or cod, the shore or deep sea-fishing." " Why the plague don't you go to work then, like a man ?" " Because I can't get the supplies. If I go to Birchtown, they grab nil the catcli for the outfit, and an old balance ; and if I go to Sholburn I hante got no credit. It's no use talkin'. When you are down, poverty , like snow-shoes, keeps your feet fast, and pre- vents your rising : a man can't hope agin hope." " Why not engage as a hand on board another man's ci'aft, then ?" " What ! go as a hand, when I have always gone as skipper ? No, no ! stranger, tliat cat Avon't jump !'' " Lord John Russell has done it," sais I, "and a bigger man than him afore his day, and that's John Adams. So my friend," sais I, let's drop the subject, for I don't like talkin' nonsense. It aint your misfortens, nor the memory of the past, nor your pover- ty, that ails you, but your tarnal pride. I don't pity you one bit ; but I do your wife and children. Your panes of glass in your winders are all shingles, as the Patlanders say, and the room is so dark I can't hardly see Mrs. Potter ; but your two boys I have seen, and sir. ;: little cha))S they be too, it's a pity you should bring 'em up to .shamed of their father. Be a man ! — above all, be an hon- est ma. ''or a poor man that won't work aint honest that's a tact." He covered his face with his hands at that poke : if the hide is thick on the rihs, it\s thin on the flanks, and there is nothing like trying for tender spots. " Work," said I, foUowiu' up that jibe ; *• aim your own pork, THE HOUSE WITHOUT HOPE. 131 and nee how sweet it will he. Work and see how well you will he. Work and see horv cherrfi'l you will be. Work and, see how inde- penderf you will he. Work and see Jiow Itaiqiy your Jamily will be. Work and. see how religious you will he,Jor before you know where you are, instead, of repiniu' at Providence, you will find, ytrur- self oj/'ering up thanks for the the numerous blessings you enjoy. Oiu" vossel is just below, on a coastin' voyage down east. Onmo nV)n^ v.'itU me, and you shall have five pounds cash a month, and bo found. And when yon return, pnt your pride in one pocket, and vDur w.'ij^es in the otlier and see whicli will weish licaviest. Come hope for the best." For a few minutes he remained silent, when he suddenly sprung up, seized my hand and said : •' Done ; it's a bargain." "'J'hank Clod for that," said Mrs. Potter, and burst into tears. "Now, Peter," said I, "wc sail to-night if the wind's fair, so look up your traps; })ut first of all sliave, and make yourself look like a Christinn. Come, stir your stumps, and hope for the besty " 1 do," said he; "it's the first glimpse of hope that has en- tered this house for manv a long dav. I'll be ready in no time." Artcr all, I had to use that word hope; and I believe it must actilly be kept a little longer in the dictionary, in spite of all pre- judice, for such poor devils as Peter Potter. Lt is a dxirk room that has no ray of light in it. Hope is a slender reed for a stout man to lean on, but it is strong enough, I do suppose, f of them that's infirm of mind and purpose. The houses hope builds are castles in the air. The houses of the wretched, who are altogether without hope, are too dis?nal to live in. A slight infusion of hope may be prescribed in bad cases; but strong doses weaken the mind, loosen the morals, and destroy the happiness of those who indulge in them. The true rule is, perliaps, not to let hope build a house for you, or to live with you in it; but he might come to visit you sometimes, to cheer you up a little, by talking pleasant, and getting you to look on the bright side of things, when you are in a solemncholy mood. Hope is a pleasant acquaintance, but q,n unsafe friend. Hell do on a pinch for a travelui' companion, but he is rcot the man for your banker. 132 AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW PACE CHAPTER XIV. AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. |].| ^' iii: ' 1 As Totter retired into one of the bed-rooms, for the purpose of carryin' his good resolutions into effect, I took my hat, and was about to proceed by the path to Mr. Nickerson's house, when Mrs. Potter, hastily puttin' on a bonnet, followed me out. The moment I .saw her in the broad day-light, I recognised her as Patty Schneider, the belle of the coast, but now sadly changed by her many and sore trials, and retainin' but little that vouched for her former beauty and A ivacity. A >as like a far-off sound on the ear!" She was excited; her eyes lighted up brilliant, and she railly did look beautiful. " Don't deceive yourself," I said j "I never was at school at Boston in my life, and our childhood days were spent far apart, as our after days will be." "Still you are not what you seem to be," she said. "While you thought my aching eyes, that were tilled with tears, were adinirin' your ring, I was examinin' your hand. Look here. Sir," and she rose, and taking it in hers, turned up the palm. " You are no sea captin. Sir. Those fingers never handled ropes. There is no tar there, and hard callous skin — it's softer than a woman's. What does the like of you want of a seaman ?" " Wull, I am not a skipper," sais I, " that's a fact.'' "Jn the name of goodness, then," she said, "who and what are you? Did you ever hear of a man having control of a vessel, Japtin, crew, and all ; or half a dozen vessels fitted and manfied ? Is that an oncommon thinjjr ?" " I thl^j, Mrs. Potter, you are gettin' on too fast when you are m lit k 1 \i If' ■'i iif I li I 4 t hard that don't work with it; that wears a ring bocanso ho ca:i afford it ; and hiroH a man, either because ho wants him, or because he pleases, and then stand off aa higli cock-spotty as a partridii;(', and piii>» ont njesmi'iisni. You arc wehiomo to your thoughts," sais I. *' I can't stand lower in yuur estimation thi|,n I do in my own. I never protended to bo a great man, or great shakes of any kind. No woman ever took me for either If she had, she'd a snapped me up long ago as quick as a duck does a June bug. If it pleases you to make fun of me, you'd better bo quick then, or Eldad will be here, and that's the last you will ever see of me." "Oh 1 I am foolish or light-headed I" she said. " This onex- pected turn of happiness seemed incredible — impossible ! I couldn't realise it all at once ! I thought I had know'd you in childhood. I sec how it is now. I have seen you in a dream — a long-forgotten dream — and now you are fulfillin' it ! Yes, that's it. I see it now — it's the hand of Providence 1 I'll never forget you, my kind, good friend, as long as 1 live;" and she shook me cordially by the hand. " Yes you will. Putty ; you won't as much as remember my name soon, let alone my face. A word of advice is a small matter, and not worth rememberin', but to foller. As to memory, you don't know, as well as 1 do. A dear old friend of mine used to say : ' The nicmorij of j)ast favours u like a rabihow, bfiylU, vivid, and beautiful ; hut It soon fades awut/. The memory of injuries is en- graved on the heart, and remains for ever.' " "It may be so with men. Sir," she said, "and I believe it is; but it aint so with women. Men are selfish, and take everything as their due ; and if their memory is bad, it is because they are too consaited to charge it. But women — have you a woman ? If I may be so bold, are you married ?" " No," I replied, " I have no wife, and never had. I am a bird of passage — here to-day and gone to-morrow — and hiiven't had lei- sure to think of marriage." " Well, it's time you did," she said. " You deservo a good wife, and I hope you will get one. I am sure you would be kind to her." " The time is past now," said I, mock modestly. " I am too old; and, as an old aunt of mine onct said : ' them that I'd have, wouldn't have me, and them that would have me, the devil wouldn't have.' Patty," sais I, " the fox that had his tail cut off, wanted to persuade every other fox to try the short dock, too." As I said that, I saw she took it wrong, for her eyes filled with tears. She thought t meant more than I said. It is strange, but tru'^ notwithstanding : the faith and the courage of women is indo- mitable. A gall makes shipwreck of everything by gettin' married in haste, and repentin' at leisure. No sooner is she a widder, than \h AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 137 she ventures to sea agoin, risks her all in another voyage as full of confidence as ever; and when the Btorins come, and the ship is dis- niiustod, and she is picked up in the life-bout hiilf-drowned, half- starved, half-nuked, and alone in the waste of waters, no sooner does she reach land and mix in the gay world agin, before the idea crosses her luind that better luck is still in store for her. The storius are over— storms don't rage for ever — the sky looks serene, and not a ripple is seen on the ocean. Fair weather sailin* is a pleasant thing, the temptation is too strong, and she is ready to embark again. Why notl' Does it follow because the leeward is all black, wild, and dreary, that the sweet windward sky shall ever again be overcast by the tempest and the thunder-clouds ? Not a bit of it. Go it, my little widder, when you are young. The game of life is not played out with one or two hands. Who knows what are on the cards ; and diamonds is trumps now if hearts aint. I was sorry I alluded to the fox's tail. She thought it was a jibe. Wounded pride should he touched lightli/. The skin is thin and phujt/ scnsative, "Patty," sais 1, "you arc generous to say you won't forget me, but you feel more grateful on account of your pretty boys than yourself You see light breakin' ahead already for them — don't be offended. I know you will forget both me and my name too.'* *• Never, never," said she, with great emphasis ; " never, as long as I live. What makes you think so meanly of me? I think you have been a guardian angel sent by Providence." Well, I repeated them words, " guardian angel," slow. 70V. Patty " The very same," said I. " How strange ! were Schneider?" "Yes sir," she said. " A guardian angel, sent by Providence," said I. " Exactly ! that's the very words he said you used. It's a favourite word of yours; and yet you forgot him." " Forgot who, sir ? It's a false accusation ? Forgot who, sir ? Pray do tell me?" " Well," sais I, " I was in England last year, and there I met a man who told me a capital story about you. He larfed ready to kill himself." " I am much obleeged to him, I am sure," she said, with a toss of her head ; " he is welcome to his good story. Who was he, the impident fellow ?" " He said he was travelling once on the Barrington road, the matter of some years ago now, in his waggon, with a ftxst-trotting horse he had. It was a lonely part, of the road, and a woman mis- took him for a doctor, and called to him to stop and advise her about her children; one 4iad just died of scarlet-fever, and two others were dangerously ill. Well, while he was talkin' to the poor woman, ooe 9* w -i f . il : 'ii ir n ):i '|':i i^J 138 AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE, of the most beautiful girls he ever laid eyes on, passed by on foot. A rael clipper — tall, straight, well-built, perhaps cverly tall, plump as a partridge, eyes like a snappin' turtle, teeth like ivory, lips like — " " Well, never mind her lips. Who was she, tell me quick ?" " Stop," sais I, " till I get this plaguey knife open, I can't talk unless I whittle. Her lips were so — " "Never mind her lips." " Well, her neck and bust — " " Well, never mind them ; who was that gall ? Who did he say ? I think I know what he is at now." " * Who is that splendiferous gall V said he. " He didn't say no such thing," she replied ; " them is embellish- ments of your own." " ' That,' sais she, ' is Patty Schneider, the darter of old Cap- ting Schneider, of Roseway, the most sponsible man in these parts.' " Well, arter he had instructec' the poor critter, the best way he could, what to do about h:" children— for ho was a man that by trav- elling about everywhere, had picked up a little of everything amost — and encouraged her the best way he could, he proceeded on his jour- ney; and as he vvas joggiu/ on, he thought to himself, how in the world did that beautiful young lady get across them places in the swamp, where the Water covers the road, without wettin' her shoes and stockings ? She must have taken them off, and waded as the snipes do." " I didn't do nc such thing," she said. " Oh dear ! oh dear ! think I should have been talked of in that way by that feller, too bad, I declare," and she rested hei elbows on her knees, and put her hands to her face. " Go on," she said, " what else did he say ?" " Well," he said, " arter a while he beard the screams of a woman in distress, and he pushed on, and he saw a head and bonnet stickin' out of the -bog. And when he came up, the water was across the road , and it appeared the young woman that had passed some time afore, in tryin' to cross over on a fallen tree that lay there, had slip- ped off, and was up to her neck in the quag, and would have sunk over her head, if she hadn't caught hold of the log with both hands, and was screamin' and screachin' for dear life." " Well, part of that is true," she said. " Well, he said he was puzzled to know what to do next, or how in the world to get ber out, for fear her weight would pull him in head first, the ground was so slippery. But bracin' one foot agin the log, and the other agin the road, he stooped his head close do^-a arms round To It's lift put your my you up. « ( can t,' said she. ' If I let go my hold, I shall sink out of Right, for I can't touch bottom here, and my strength is een Vmost u "Jne.' W :i:!i. AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 139 * Try/ said he ; ' put one arm round first, and I will hold on to it, and then try the other, and if you can hook on that way I think I can haul you out/ " Well, arter a while, she was a huggin' of his neck instead of the log, and he streighted himself up, and after a most desperate pull, fetched up the upper part of her ; and a most powerful pull it was too, the bog sucked so hard. But what to do then, he didn't know, for it was necessary for him to take a fresh hold of her, and there was no restin'-place for her feet to help him. " ' How much more of you is there left?' sais he; and he couldn't help larfin', now that the worst was over. ' Take a higher hold of me, and I will take a lower grip of you, and give you another bouss up.' " Oh dear I" said Mrs. Potter with a groan, " that I should ever hear of this again. It warnt the part of a man to go and tell of such an accident." " Well, he gave her another start, and out she came, all covered over with black slime, and without her shoes, for the suction was so great, it was a wonder it hadn't drawn her feet off too. * Well,' he said, ' the young lady thanked him kindly, said she never would for- get him the longest day she ever lived, he had been sent by Provi- dence as a guardian-angel* for her (the very words you used to-day to me), and that he replied you was the angel, and not him ; and that these two angels stood in the road there for a few seconds all covered with black mud, dirty sluime, and green water, exchangia' a few kisses of gratitude, and that he never could think of ''* arter- wards without larfin, it was so droll a scene.' " • " Did he now actilly say all that, or are you making of it V " Why you know whether it is true, or not; is that correct?" " Well, it's none of your affair, whether it is or not. A body at Buch a time could hardly say what they did." "Well," said I, "he wouldn't be much of a man, with a hand- some woman in his arms, and her face rubbin' agin hisin for so long a time, if he didn't manage to let the lips meet; and I don't think the young lady would have acted naterally to be angry — at least, that's my opinion. But the worst is to be told yet. He sais it's a pity they ever met again." " They never did meet again," she replied ; " I never sot eyes on him from that day to this." " Are you sure ?" " As true, Sir, as I a*^ talking to you,. I never saw him, and never heard of him since; and what's more, never found out his name." " He went to your house some years arterwards, he said, but you didn't or wouldn't know him. Whether you was af"«id of Mr. Potter hearin' it, or didn't wish to recal the obligation to mind, he didn't kpow, but you took no more notice of him than any other stranger. 140 CHAT IN A CALM, m »n i ^;i . I :i|l ■ii :;ui ■■:i!Hi ^1 ,1' :< i'H ^:i He felt hurt, I assure you. lie said he didn't blame you; you might have had your reasons, but he must have been greatly altered, if you had really forgoi liiui that way." "I tell you, >Sir, lujnestly and fairly, there aint a word of truth in saying, I didn't know him again ; for I tell you I never saw hira afterwards." " Oh ! yes/' sais I ; " I can tell you time and place ; I can bring it to your mind exactly." " When and where then ?" said she. " This very day," said I, " in your own house, and now here. I am the man ; and my name is Sam Slick, the Clockmaker." CHAPTER XV. CHAT IN A CALM. H viNG shipped Mr. Eldad Nickerson as a pilot, and Mr. Peter Potter as a " hand," we set sail for the settlement at Jordan. Wo were becalmed off the entrance of the river ; and as we lay motion- less on the glassy surface of the sea, we found ourselves at no great distance from an T^dian encampment on the extreme point of the beach, from which several canoes issued in pursuit of the porposes, which were revelling in a shoal of herring. As these sleek, alder- men-lookin' fellows rose to the surface in their roly-poly sort of play, or leapt from the water to show their pretty figures, (for even fish pride themselves on what they haint got), they were shot at by the man in the bow of the canoe, and two in the stern paddled with all their might in chase, while the former exchangf^d his gun for a spear, and stood ready to strike the crittur, and draw him in over the bows, a slight of hand that nobody but an Indian could perform in so tot- lish and dapgerous a craft as a bark-canoe. The first fish that was pursued, luo' hit by the ball, escaped the spear, dived, and disap- peared from view. "Well done, feminine gender," said Eldad, addresein' himself to the cabin party on the after part of the deck, " well done, feminine gender," alludin' to the porpose ; "you gave Tony Cope, the Indjin, the dodge that time any hovv. You must put on more steam, Tony, if you want to catch them ere sea-going craft ; they have high-pres- sure engines them navvies, and never burst their boilers neither. He had better a gi'en in tho' to you than run thro' the fleet, as sl;e will have to do now. You aint half such a savage, Tony, as h^r own seed breed and generation is — that's my logic at any rate." " How can you tell it's a female porpoise ?" said the captain. " Ay," said I, " how can you say so at this distance ?' |ili;i:i CHAT IN A CALM 141 " "UHiat will ynn hot ?" said the mate, " it's a slic pnrpoiso ?" " Five doliiirs," 'Hi the pilot, '• Cover them," holding out the lilvcr coins in his liuiid; "cover them," which was no suouor c! ne Uian lie (juietly put ^heni into his pocket. " Who shall decide ?" paid the mate. " I'll leave it to yourself," said Eldad, coolly. " I'll take your \wn word for it, that's fair, aint it ?" " Well it is so, that's a fact." ''Jump overboard then, and swim oflF and see if I aint right." f he loud laugh of the mcii who hoard the catch, rewarded the joke. " But here is your money," he said ; " I know it to be fact, and a ^et is only fair when there is a chance of losin', that's my logic, at Any rate." "How do }ou know it then?" said the skipper. "Because it stands to reason, to natur' and to logic." " W^ell, come," said the captain, "let us sit down here and see liow jcj rrove the gender of the fish by reason, natur' and logic?" "^Yv. ' paid Eldad, "there is natur' in all things. Among hum., .':: .mjre is three kinds, white natur', nigger natur', and Indjin natur' ; then there is fish natur', and horse natur', mosquito natur', and snakes natur', and he natur', and she natur', at least that's my logic. Well, it's the natur' of porpoirses, when a she one gets wounded, that all the other porpoirses race right arter her, and chase her to death. They show her no marcy. Human natur' is the same ts fish natur' in this partieler, and is as scaly too. When a woman ^et a wound from an arrow shot out by scandal, or envy, or malice, or falsehood, for not keeping her eye on the compass, and shapin' her course as she ought to, men, women, and boys, parsons, and their tea-goin' gossipin' wives, pious galls and prim old maids, all start off m full cry like r. pack of bloodhounds arter her, and tear her to pieces; and if sVj "M'-ths, and has the luck to get safe into a hole fust, they howl us! ' ^'i round it every time she shows her no.se, like EO many imps tI • \i^ 'ss. It's the race of charity, to see which long-legged, cantin , i' .oi;.-;-lookin' crittur can be in first at the death. They turn up the white oi their eyes like ducks in thunder, at a fox- hunt, it's so wicked J but a gall-hunt they love dearly, it's ' servin* the Lord.'" "But that still don't prove it's a female porpoise," said Cutler "Yes it does,'' replied Eldad; "they darn't sarve a man that way; if they get up a hunt on him, he don't run, ho shows fight; he turns round, and says, 'Come, m one at a time, and I'll handle you, or two V( ■ her, if yon like, you cowards, or all in a heap, /ind I'll fight till 1 \. , but I won't run;' that's he-natur, you seo. Now if the wounded porpoise was a male, wouldn't he turn al.so, butt with his head, and thrash with his tail, like a brave fellon' ? he'd a seen 'em shot and speared first, afore he'd run. No, the natur' of a rr ill! 14? CHAT IN A CALM, wounded gall and a wounded she-porperse is to run for it ; so that fish is foniiiiine-gendcr, according to my logic. And now, captiu," he continued, " I reckon it would ho as well to order the boat out, and we will give the * Black Hawk' a pull a few hundred yards further out. She is driftin' too near that point, and the water shoals rapidly there j an ounce of precaution is worth a pound of cure, at least, that's my logic." " All right," said Cutler. " Mate, attend to the orders of tbo pilot." While this little operation was being performed, the skipper and I paced the deck, and discoursed on tlie subject of the pilot's ana- logy between female, porpoises and women. " Is it true, IMr. Slick," said he, " that mankind shows so little charity to a woman who is so unfortunate as to attract observation ? I have moved so little in the world, I i^s not aware of it, altho' I know Scott says : " * And ev'ry fault a to'ir cju. tira, Except ail erring sister's shame.' " "It is a melancholy truth," said T; "/7 is cowardice in man, and cruelty in teotnan. It is the worst trait in human natur', and the most remarkable ftict is, that women whose conduct is not altog-ether free from blame, are the loudest in their outcry. They yelp shriller than if they was hit themselves. It is a bad .sign. A icoman who ivants a charitable hatrt, icantA a pare mind. The measure of a female* s judgment must be her oini feelings; and if she judges harshly, her feelings are not ddieatr. llcr experience is her own, and if that is adverse, it ought at least to impose silence. Innocence is not suspicious, but guilt is alwai/s ready to turn informer. But here is the pilot; he is an odd chap, aint he? and a bit of a hu- mourist, too. That fellow will amuse us when we have nothiu' to do." When Eldad resumed his place, I took up the conversation where he had left it. "If the female creation," said I, " Mr. Nickerson, suffer parsecu- tion sometimes, particularly women, perhaps it's as like as not they haint been prudent; but sonietin)os they give it to the males pro- perly, you may depend ; and they aint without defence, neither. If a woman aint able for a stand-up fight, and her little hand aint no good to box, her tiny fingers can clapper, claw, and scratchj like thorns, and Hay a man alive amost." "Exactly," said Eldad; ''they attend meetin' oftner nor men, and have the ten commandments at their fingers^ ends." "Oh! Mr. Nickerson," said Cutler, "that's very irreverent." " And then natur' has given her a tongue," sais I, " so loose and iley on its hinge, it's the nearest thing in creati(»n to perpetual mo- CHAT IN A CALM. 143 •sation where icr nor men, tion. Oh ! if over you was in a fish-market to London, you'd hear 'em use it in perfection ! Don't the words come easy, and such words, too, no livin' soul ever heerd afore; not jaw-breakin' words, such as black gentlemen use to show their kncwludge of dictionary, but heart-breakin' words, not heavy, thick, and stinging. Why they call a feller more names in a niinnit than would sarve half the Spa- nish grandees, and one of them chap's names covers the whole out- side (.1 a letter, and hardly leave room for th. place of direction at the .>end of it. Pretty names they use, too, do those fish-women, only they have a leetle — just a leetle — taint about 'em, and ajnt (juite as sweet as stale fish. There never was a man yet could stand them. Well, if they can't fight, and are above slang, and scorn scoldin', they can tease beautiful, and drive a man ravin* dis- tracted mad. " Did you ever see a horse race and chase, tear and bang, jump and kick, moan and groan, round and round, over and over a paster', with his mouth open, his nostrils spread wide, his eyes starin', his tail up, his body all covered with foam, and ho ready to drop down dead'/ Well, that great big critter aint hurt, he is only teased; touched on the fiank, and then in the ear, tickled where the skin is thiu, and stung where it is off. Why it's nothin' after all, that does that, but a teasin', tormentin' hornet; you couldn't do it yourself with a whip, if you was to die for it. Well, a joman can sarve a man the same way; a sly little jibe here, another touch there, now on his pride, then on his faults, here on his family, there on his friends, and then a little accidental slip o' the tongue, done on pur- pose, that reaches the jealous spot; away the poor critter goes at that last sting, he can't stand it no more; he is furious, and throws down his hat, and kicks it (he can't kick her, that aint manly), and roars and bellows like a bull, till he can't utter no more words, and then off he goes to cool his head by drivin' himself into a fever. "Oh! beautiful play that; you may talk of playin' a salmon artcr he is hooked, and the sport of seein' him jump clean out of the water in his struggles, a-racin' off and being snubbed again, and reeled up, till he is almost bagged, when dash, splash, he makes another spring for it, and away he goes as hard as he can lick, and out runs the line, whirr-rr ! and then another hour's play afore he gives in. "Well, it's grand, there's no doubt. It's very excitin'; but what is that sport to seein' a woman play her husband ? The wife, too, is just such another little gaudy-lookin' fly as that which the salmon was fool enough to be houked with, and got up just as nateral. Oh ! how I have watched one of 'em afure now at that game! Don't she enjoy it, the little dear, smilin' all the time like an angel, most Dewitchin' sweet; bright, little eyes, sparklin' like diamonds, and lier teeth lookin' so white, and her face so composed, and not a i ! ii 144 CHAT IN A CALM, I til I breath to heave her beautiful bosoiu, or swell her allerbaster neck, but as quiet and as gontle throughout as one of the graces; and her Words so sweet, all honey, and usin' such endettriu' names too, you'd think she was courtiu' amost. ]^ut the honey makes the words stick, and the fond names co'ver a sting, and some phrases that are BO kind have a hidden meaning that makes poor hubby jump right on cend, and when he roars with pain and rage, she lays down her pencil or her embroidery, and looks up in surprise, for she was occu- pied before, and didn't notice nothin'. Oh ! what a look of asto- nishment she puts on. " < Why my dearest love,' sais she, 'what is the matter with you, aint you well? How wild you look I Has anything excited you? Is there anything in the world I can do for you V " He can't stand it no longer, so he bolts. As soon as he is gone, the little cherub wife lays back her head and smiles. " ' Succumb is a charming man, Mr. Siiek, and one of the kindest and best husbands in the world, only he is a little touchy and hasty- tempered sometimes, don't you think so ?' " And then she goes on as cool as if nothin' had happened, but caste round for a chance to let go and laugh out. So she says — " ' Pray, Mr. Slick, do tell me what sort of folks the Bluenoses are. Is it true the weather is so cold there, that their noses are blue all winter ? Bluenoses ? wh-it a funny name !' " That's the chance she was looking for, and then she indulges in a laugh so hearty, so clear, so loud and so merry, you'd think her heart was so full of joy, it required that safety-valve to keep it from bustin'. " Oh ! I'd rather see a man played than a salmon anytime, and if women are bad-used sometimes, and can't help themselves in a gen- eral • ' )y, I guess they are more than a match for the men in the long run. But I was going to tell you about the seals down Sable Island. They come ashore there every now and agin to dry their jackets, blow off steam, and have a game of i'omps ; and what do you think them roguish, coquettish, tonuentin' imj.3 of she ones do? Why, they just turn to and drive all the old buifers, fathers, hus- bands, wrinklo*! bachelors, and guardian uncles, further inland, and there they make them stay by themselves, while they and the young gentlemen, beaux seals ogle, and flirt, and romp about like anything close to the water, where they can give them the dodge if they get obstreperous. It would make you die a larfiu, if you was to see hov? sulky the old fellers look, a-wipin' their ugly mug)^ with their paws, showing their teeth, at least what is left of them, and gruntin' and growliu' like politicians kicked out of office. I believe, in my soul, thoy put th(un there a-purpose to get rid of them altogether j for when the hunters come, they rush right in between them young assembly-men and them old senators, and attack the big boys with i!l! CHAT IN A CALM, 145 llerbaster neck, ;races; and her auiGs too, you'd ilcGS the words hrases that are bby juuip right I lays down her r she was occu- a look of asto- latter with you, ig excited you ? Q as he is gone, e of the kindest ichy and hasty- 1 happened, but 3 she says — 3 the Bluenoses r noses are blue she indulges in ou'd think her to keep it from mytirac, and if Ives in a gen- men in the 3 down Sable ;in to dry their and what do she ones do ? •s, fathers, bus- ier inland, and and the young like anything igc if they get as to see how th their paws, d gruntin' and c, in my soul, iltogother; for , them young big boys with 'i ■i great heavy-loaded pticks, and tumble them over quick stick, and then the young ones just take a dive fur it, and enjoy the joke in safety. "Perhaps all natur can't show such a soft, lovely, liquid eye as a young lady seal. It seems as if flirtin', coquettin', ogliu', roinpiu', and larkin', was just what this was made for. Yes, yes, natur balances all things admirably, and has put the sexes and every indi- vidual of each on a par. Them that have more than their share of one thin;/, iommonli/ have less of another. Where there is great stremjtli. fli<'rr aint apt to hr. much gximption. A handsome man in a qln^'rdl "'(ij/ aint much of a man* A beautiful bird seldom sin(/s. Th(ni that hax genius have no common sense. A feller with one idcii grows rich, while he who calls him a fool dies poor. The world 'is like a bakcd-meat 2yic •' the npper C7'ust is rich, dry, and pnfj'i/ ; the lower crust is hqavy, doughy, and binder dove. The middle is not bad generally, but the smallest part of all is that which fla- vours the whole. ^' "Well, that are a fact," said the Pilot; "at least, that's my logic." " Now, S(|uire, I am going to give you my ideas of the femininr, gender in general. I flatter myself I know somethin' about them. As usual, 1 suppose you will say ' You do flatter yourself; it's a bit of your Yankee brag.' Well, I am a modest man, as I always say, when I know what I am a-talkin' about ; and if I am wrong, per- haps you will set me right. Now, I do say, I know somethiu' of women. I aint a scientitlc man. I warn't brought up to it; and you never heard me talk professor-liko ; but I have studied the great book of human natur, and have got it at my fingers' ends, as dear old minister had his bible. I can quote chapter and varse for all I say. I read this book continually; it's my delight: and I won't turn my back on any one, when he talks of that. I haint travelled for nothin', I haint listened for nothin', I haint used a magnifyin' glass for nothin', and I haint meditated for nothin'. Now, femalea 1 divide into three classes : first, petticoat angels ; second, women ; and third, devils. Petticoat angels there are, beyond all doubt, the most exalted, the most pure, the most pious, the most lovin', the most devoted ; and these angels are in low degree as well as high ; thoy aint confined to no station — prizes that clockmakers as well as princes may draw. Is that Yankee brag? Well, then, there is women. Well, women commonly are critters of a mixed character, in gineral more good than bad about 'em, by a long chalk (for men don't do 'cm justice in talkiu of 'em), but spoiled like lilloys in * That ?i pro'tijwvMX has sehloia much tn rcooianiond him Ix^yond Iii;-; jrooil looks, was a favourite maxim of Martial. On one ouca.'^idii lie calls liim a Btony affair — "Res pctricosa ost bellus bellus homo;" and on another, a weak man — " Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pusillus homo est." w i '3« i y I rii .(! ^ • 146 CHAT IN A CALM trainin'. The mouth is liard from being broke with too small a bit, or their temper ruined by being punished when they don't desarve it, or ontrue by being put to work they e.m't stand, or aint fitted by natur for. Thivc iic.vcr vns a i/ixul husbmul that icarn't a ijood Jwrseman, for the natur of the rrittors is just alike. You must be gentle, kind, and patient, but you must be firm, and when there is a fight for mastery, just show 'em it's bettor not to act foolish. Unless a critter is too old, and too headstrong, it's a man's own fault if ho can't manage to make 'em travel tlie road pleasantly. Is there any Yankee brag in that'/ " "Well, then, there are the devils. AVell, some kick; don't put 'em in harness agin, that's all; they are apt to cut their little pas- terns, and hurt your little gig. Some stop, and won't go. Treat 'em as I did a boss once who wouldn't draw up hill. I set off from Slickville once with a regular devil to put her through her facin's at three o'clock in tiie mornin', and took books, and cigars, and my dinner with me, to be ready for //taction, as it was fine weather. " Well, two miles from hum was a iiigh hill, and as usual my boss stopped short, lay back in the brecehin, and wouldn't budge an inch. She thought she was a-goin' to have a regular-built frolic, and I intended she should. 8 he whisked her tail, laid back her ears, and looked wi(.-ked, a-thiukin' the more you wallop me, th< more i won't go; and I'll upset you, and break a shaft if I can but she didn't know what was in store for her. " * Don't you hope you may get the chance ?' sais I. "So I threw down the reins, lit my cigar, and began to read, and took no more notice of her than if she was in the stable. When twelve o'clock came, she looked round as much as to say, if you aint a-goin' to fight, will you make friends, old boy ? Well, I took no notice, as much as to say, go to the devil ; eat my dinner, and I turned to again, and began to read. Well, as the sun was goin* down, she began to get dreadful oneasy and fidgctty, and to put one foot before the other, but I stopped her, and called out, 'whoh !' At last she got very impatient, but I held on till she should take the woid from me. Finally, I took up the reins, gave her a lick of the whip, and away she went up the hill, as if she smelt oats at the top of it; and to show her what a fool she was, I drove her twenty miles right straight on eeud afore I hauled up. She never baulked at a hill again. "Well, this is more trouble than they are worth amost; another time, but we won't foller it up ; it's too long a story to illustrate in that way. Some want to race off. Well, a boss that has onct run away in harness, will always do it again when it gets a chance — slip the bridle over their head, and let them go to old scratch ; they aint worth follering. Is that Yankee brag ? Well, perhaps, it is. Give me your Blue-nose brag now. I say, petticoat angels, women, and I^M!, , THE SABLE ISLAND OlIOST, 147 •■i- devils. Now what is your division ? You arc a College man, and I aiut; you are a province man, and I am a man of the world, which, thu' it aint quite us big as Nova Scotiu, is big enough for the likes of me. I know your Halifax notions. You will say high and low, genteel or vulgar, rich or poor. You are wrong. Squire, a woman may be high and vulgar, and there may be a person not quite so common, but far above her, and worth a thousand such cattle, called a ' poor lady.' If she is an angel — and I maintain there are Buch — doas is writ in the marriagc-sarvice, 'with my body I theo worship.' If she is a womi;n, say, ' with this caveson and halter I thee break.' If she is a devil, lead her to the door, take the bit out out of her mouth, and say, ' I'll make a fair division of the house with yon; I'll take the inside, and do you take the outside, now cut and run, and be hanged to you.' Now, Squire, as Eldad says, that's ray logic at any rate." CHAPTER XVI. THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST, "Talking of the Isle of Sable," said Cutler, '^did you ever land there? I should like amazin'ly to visit it. I have seen it in the distance, but never could spare time to go on shore. What an interesting place it must be, from the melancholy accidents that have occurred there." " Yes," said I, " I have been there, and it's just what you say, filled with solemncoly interest. The cause and occasion of my goin' there was rather a droll story. Onct when I was to Halifax, the captain of the cutter said to me : "'Mr. Slick,' said he, 'I'm off to Sable Island. What do you say to takin' a trip down there ? We are to have a wild-hoss chase, and that's great sport. Come, what do you say ?' " ' Well,' sais I, ' I'm most afeerd to go." " ' Afeerd !' said he, ' I thought you was afeerd of nothin ? We always go to the leeward side of the island, and we will whisk you thro' the surf, without so much as sprinklin' of your jacket.' " ' Oh,' sais I, ' it aint thr.t. I am not afeerd of surfs or breakers, or anything of that kind. A man like me that has landed at Cal- cait?v needn't fear anything. I rather guess I could teach you a dodge or two about surf you aint up to, tho' you do go there so of" n.' "Well,' sais he, 'what are you afeerd on then ?' and I saw him i: I' 11} ; r , 1 i • I i < fir "I 1-4 'I If' • 'I 1 ii"! 148 THE K A n L i: ISLAND O II O S T , m \\:. Il'l !' give a wini: to one of tlio commissioners, as much as to say, 'Lat w rig him. " ' ^Vhy,' suin T, 'c;ip.iii, our fishermen don't mind the treaty a hit more than a governor's [irot'lumalion, and just fish where they please, and trade in any liarljour fliey lilvo, and now and tlien you nab (me of them for it. .Now I wouhin't like to ho on board of you, when you tried to seize a vessel under our Everlastin' Hag. It wouldn't look pretty, nor sound pretty. I should have to jump on boiird of our craft, and turn to and capture the cutter, take her up to Bostin' and get her condemned, and thnt wouldn't convene. If you succeeded, and me in your company, 1 couldn't return home; and if 1 was to assist my brother Jonathans, T couldn't return hero; and, besides, I like to let every feller grind his own axe. If it warn't for that, it's just the thing 1 do like.' " ' Well,' said he, * don't be skecr'd ; I go straight there and back. I aint on a cruise, and Sable Island don't want cutters to frighten away intruders. It's dangerous enough of itself to keep folks off, who know what's what. I'll tell you wdiat, if ever you saw that are island when the sea was wratliy, and heard the roar of tho breakers on the outer bar, one slu^et of foam twenty-five miles long, stretching away up into the air like a snow-wreath in a whirlwind, you'd think you seed old Neptune's head o' white hair, and whiskers, and heard him call up all hands on deck to shorten sail. The island, which is a long narrow sand-strip, when it's lashed by the mountain waves, trembles agin, as if it had the ague; and you can't help thiukin', the fust time you I'eol it, that tiie sand will give to thostf everlastin' blows, separate, and ))e swept away to leeward. The fusl night I spent there in a gale, I felt a deuced sight more streaked than ever I did on board ship in a hunicano.' " ' Yes,' said I, fancyin' he was a tryin' the temper of my narves, *it must have been grand.' "The fact is, I .I'dn't jist altogether like the look of his face, when I said I was afeerd to go, nor his sly wiidj nother; they Boemed as if they kinder m^nnt he thought I was cowardly; and then I didn't like all that bunkum about old Neptune, and the ter- rors of the storm, and so on; it sounded braggy; so I thought I'd just clap on all steam, and go ahead of him, for whoever gets to windward of me had better try it on a river, or a harbour in a sloop- rigged clipper, have his mainsail cut as flat as a board, luff idl he can, hold on to all he gets, and mind his weather eye. I don't cal- culate in a giueral way to have the wind taken out of my sails. * k50, gais I (and in them days I was a pretty extravagant feller to talk when 1 felt dandery, I tell you), ' so,' sais f, ' I hope there will be a ripper there, a regular ring-tailed roarer, the night I land on tho island. Then if a feller was to jump bare-backed on his imagiaar tion, throw away the reins, dig in the spurs — ' hill' THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. 149 land the ter- '< < Yon needn't do that,' said ho ; ' there are three hundred wild hos«es there; cat.h one o' thcin in th(^ stonn, and race (dl', if you have a faney for that sort o' j-^cuddin' afore the wind witii hare poles,' " ' Exactly * sais I, ' I'm your man. liaise the wind till it blows a tornado, catch me a hoss, and .start nie off at midnight, wind huwlin', hreakcr.s roariu', thunder crnsliin', lightnin' flashin', and nie a whoopiu' and yellin' like an Tnd^ian devil, and if there is any echo, raise sounds like distant voices of unburied thousands that lio hid in those shallows; it would wake the dead, n)ake the wracks start once n)ore from their sandy beds, and sink again with a ker- wuUup, like crocodiles junipin' in the river, or a steamer goin' down >f|uensh. Here's at you, v]d boy; I'm your man. Here's for a glinst-ridcr's gallop over skulls, skeletons, and skippers; a midnight lark to scare the wild bosses, scatter the r:ii)bits and rats, and make tlic owls stare. I'll outrun you, outsereeeh you, and outyell you, for u ten mile heat for li\'<' hundred dollars. Come, what do you say to that stump '/' are you brought to a hack?' " ' I wouldn't run a race of a mile,' s-ud he, ' at midnight, on that onconsecratid grave-yard, for a thousand pounds. I am a sailor, and I respect the dead.' "Oh, ho! sais [ tu niysidf, I have cooled you, have I? Who in ufeerd now? "' AnJ let mo tell you, too,' said he, 'it's a laud of spirits.' "The fact was, he was superstitious. " ' I could tell you some ghost stories that I know to bo true, that would make yev.r hair stand on eend. Did you ever h^ar of Lr. Copeland's lady that appeared to the brave Captaiu Torreus, of the 29th llegiuient of the Jiritish •irmy% or the Paris gentlenuin, that appears ahvays to v^racked Frenchmen, and complains of Henry the Fourth of France, for takin' his wife and bauishin' him there with a lot of convicts, so long ago as 1508? or the old regieitle that used it as a hid;n'-[)lace, and lived and died there ? and on the liOth of May. when Charles the First was beheaded, marches about with a broad- brimmed hut on, carries a drawn sword, and sings psalms through his nose so loud you can hear him above the storm ?" "'No,' sais 1, 'I should like to sec that man amazin'ly. Our country was settled by i'urilans, and 1 would give anything to know what sort of critters they were arter all, and ask some questions to clear up history. Oh I time it so as to be there on the 29th. If I CMuld only see that sainted sinner, talk to him, get his name, see hia dress, and hear his lingo, I'd make a fortiu' out of the critter.'' " ' Well, well,' said he, " come with me, and I will tell you all these stories to pass time.' " ' Done !' sais I, I'm your man. I'd rather raise that old regi- cide than raise a treasure ship. Hurrah for Sable Island !' Thinki 13* t'i I '; ! !'» ; j I i- jr I; '•? I If i!' i 111': .;i( •ill ■'' ■ !!t i ! 4 ':: 150 THE 8ABLE ISLAND 0H08T. I : Old boy, who is afecrd now? I warn't boru in the woods to tw Beared by an owl." " Exactly," 8uid Mr. Eldad, ' who is afcerd ? A man has but one ifife, and that he must lose some day or another, any way he can fix it, and ho don't know how soon. He is a fool to be a coward, there- fore, becau.se the time will come when he can't help himself. Die he must. Now if a feller had nine lives like a cat, (hey would bo worth takiu' care of, because, in a general way, he'd have a good stock left, and gracious knows how long he might live. lie could afford to be timid like them, and it would be worth his while, too, to take care of his lives. At least, that's my logic." "I can't say much fur the logic;" sais I; " but your first idea of dyin' game aint a b;id one, and I won't nonconcur you. " VVell off we went, and a rael pleasant time we had of it, too. Oh I what fun wo hud a chasin* of them wild bosses ! There was a herd of three hundred of them, and we caught a lot of them for the Halifax market, for they overstock the island now and then, and have to bo thinned off. You have no idea what nice eatin' wild hoss- meat is. It was the fust time I ever tasted any. I felt kinder skit- tish at fust, but 1 soon got used to it. It is somethin' between veal and beef. As for wild fowl, there is no eend to them there." "Did you see a storm there?" said Cutler. "I guess I did," sais I; "and that's the reason I staid there so long, for the captin had to get on board quick step, up anchor, and off till it was over. It was splendid, you may depend — awful, per- haps, is the proper word. You fancy you hear drowning men's voices in it, while the screams of birds scuddin' home for shelter aint onlike those of human bein's." " What sort of a lookin' place is it ?" said he ?" "As desolate, wild, an^J lonely a place," suis I. " as ever you see. Its sand, just the colour of the water, and can't be seen at no great distance on that account. In the hollows scooped out by the wind are whortleberry and cranberry bushes, in shallower places is bent grass, and on the shores wild peas ; but there aint a tree or a shrub on the whole island. The sand drifts in a gale like snow, and blows up into high cones. These dance about sometimes, and change places; and when they do, they oncover dead bodies of poor critters that have been overtaken there, the Lord knows when or how. There is a large lake in it fifteen miles long." "Why what is the extent of the island?" said Cutler. "About thirty miles," sais I; "and from one and a half to two wide. It has the shape of a bow, and tapers off at both ends. Aftei the storm, the superintendent and I rode all round it. When we come to the north end of the lake, we got off, and fastened our nags to a sort of pound, made of ship timber and drift stuff, that they drive wild bosses into when they want to catch them. i ';i THE SABLE ISLAND 11081. 161 e woods to 0« " 'Now,' naid he, 'sit down here, Mr. Slick, and I'll tell you one of the Btrangost storins you ever heard. In the year 1802, the ship Pripcoss Amelia was wracked off here, having the furniture of the Queen's father, Prince Kdward, on board, and a number of recruits, Bodgcr oflBcers and their wives, and women sarvants. There were two hundred souls of them altogether, and they all perished. About that period, some piratical vagabonds used to frequent there, for there was no regular establishment kept on the island then ; and it's gene- rally supposed some of the poor people of that misfortinate ship reached the shore in safety, and were murdered by the wrackers for their property. Well, the Prince sends down Captain Torrens — of the 29th regiment, I think it was — from Halifax, to inquire after the missin' ship ; and, as luck would have it, he was wracked too, and pretty nearly lost his life in trying to drag others through the surf, for he was a man that didn't know what danger or fear either was, except by name. There was but few that could be rescued before the vessel went to pieces. Well, he stationed them that survived at one ccnd of the island, and off he goes to the other so as to extend his look-out for aid as far as he could, but first they had to bury the dead that floated from the troop-ship, and gather up such parts of the Prince's effects as came ashore, and were worth saving. It was an awfu' \, and took them a long time, for the grave was as large as a eel ost. There they are, just where that long bent grasa grows. Having done this, and findin' fire-arms in the Government shelter-hut, off he goes alone to the other eend of the island. One day, having made the circuit of the lower half here, he returned about dusk to where we now are. " ' Where you see that little hillock, there was a small hut in those days, that had firovorks in it, and some food, and chairs, and tables, that had been savtd out of wracks, which were placed there for dis- tressed people ; and there were printed instructions in French and English, telling thom what to do to keep themselves alive till they could be taken off. Well, he made up a fire, hauled down some hay out of the loft, and made up a bed in one corner, and went out to take a walk along by the side of the lake, afore he turned in. As he returned, he was surprised to see his dog standin' at the door, lookin* awfully skeered, growlin', barkin', and yelpin' like mad. The first thing he saw inside was a lady sittiu' on one side of the fire, with long drippin' hair hangin' over her shoulders, her face as pale as death, and havin' nothin' on but a loose soiled white dress, that was as wet as if she had just come out of the sea, and had sand stickin' to it, as if she had been rolled over and over on the breakers. Good Heavens, Madam, said he, who are you, and where did you come from ? '' ' But she didn't speak to him, and only held up her hand before her, and he saw one of the forefingers was cut oft", and was still blcedin'- 1 i I I i up on his feet in a moment, and he rubs his eyes, half stupid with fright and drowsiness, and sais : 'I wish to Jleavens I was out of thji cussed island,' and he lights his candle, turns in again, and goes to sleep once more; for ghosts don't como ill where there is light in a general way. Well he dreams (for con- seiencc is a dab at malcin' fellers act tragedies over in their dreams), and he dreams he is awful hungry, and come liome just in time for dinner, and there is a beautiful moat-pie on the table that smells so nice, he actilly feels his mouth water, and ho cuts the crust, puts the epoon in it, and out (omes a long white finger with a beautiful ring on it. Eldad, that is wus than being hung — aint it? Depend on it, Pilot, as I said before, conscience is the devil." "Yes," said he, "it's wus than the gallus, if you are quite sure the suiiie thing haute to be gone over again on dead man's land. But Mr. Slick," said he, "you describe thiit so /jrYOwcrful, you must have suffered yourself, 1 guess, from conscience." "Well, I have," sais 1. " I won't deny it, for I should tell a lie if 1 did. You know, ' if we say we have no sin wo deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.' I do actilly dream sometimes of au onsound horse I have put off afore now on a feller, or a critter that would run away, or a clock that wouldn't go; and L won't deny the memory of these things does trouble me now and agin in my dreams, and I wake up almost chokin' and laughin' at the thought of it." " IMr. Slick," said the pilot, "you arc a droll man. Nothin' «ctii. to make an impression on you." "Don't it," said I; and I turned to Cutler, for I knew Eldad couldn't take my meanin'. "My mind is like natur'," sais I. " The dark shaders and deep lines are in the right place, but the strong lights and bright sky are also where they ought to be, L hope. But come, Mr. Nickerson," said T, " I have told you my ghost story, now do you spin us a yarn if you have a rael dependable one; if not, we will talk of something else." "^Vell," said he, "I'll tell you of one that I knowed myself, for I was on board the vessel at the time. I was mate oncet of a brig of Colonel Freeman's, of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, that was commanded by Captain James Taylor, for I'll give you the real names of the par- tics — and wc had just come back from the West Indies. On our return, we arrived off the entrance of the harbour a considerablo piece arter daylight-down, when the wind failed us, and we dropt anchor there. It was a most beautiful moonligui ni^rht you knew Captin James Taylor, didn't j'ou ?" I guess 160 THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. r lai w U' if !ii *' Yes," said T, " I knew him ; and a better shipmaster, or a better man, never trod iu shoe leather." " Well," he said, "he would go ashore and walk up to the town, which was about two miles olF; and he left me in charge, with orders to get under weigh as soon as the night breeze sprung up, and two hands got into the boat, and set him ashore. Well, he crossed over into the main road, and made for home. *As he neared Liverpool, he came opposite to old Mr. Parker's farm, where a man of the name of Trots lived as a tenant. The furst person he saw was old Trots himself, who was lame, standing out in front of the door. " How are you. Trots V said he. " Give me a drink of water, that's a good fellow." " Well, the old chap didn't answer, so he repeated it louder; but the critter wouldn'^t speak. "What in natur' ails you?" said he; and went close up to him, and called out again, at the tip eeud of his voice : "Give me a glass of water, old feller, will you V " Trots stared him iu the face, and never said a word, or offered to move. Now, as the Captain was in a hurry, and it was gettin* late, he turns out into the road quick, just leaving a parting tough word for the old man to digest, and thought no more about it. In the mornin', he goes to Colonel Freeman to report the vessel, and tell him about the sale of his lumber and fish, and so on, in the West Indies. " Says the Colonel, 'Jemmy,* sais he (for he was a great hand for patronisin' smart young men, and a putting of them forward in the world), ' did you see anything of my servant on the road last night.' " No !" said he, * the only man I saw was old Trots ; and he — ' " Pooh !' said he, ' Trots ! why Trots has been dead and buried these three weeks.' " 'Why how you talk !' said the captin ; and he jumps up and tells him the whole story. " Just then, who should come into the eountin' -house buf Captin Dewal, of Liverpool, and said he: " Colonel, did you hear about Trots ?' " What's that?' said Taylor, in astonishment, for he knew he had told no one the story. " ' Why,' said he, ' Trots was at his old house last night, and appeai-ed to Murphy.' " Murphy was another tenant who had moved into the house after Trot's death, and he woke him up. " Murphy,' sais he, 'in three days you will be where I am.' " The poor critter was as well at the time as I am now, but sure enough, in three days, he was as dead as a herrin'. What do you think of that, Mr. Slick ? Can you account for it ?' THE SABLE ISLAND GHOST. 157 " Yos," sais I, "as easy as kiss my hand. It was a moonlighi ni^-tt N'jw, as the captin knew Trots lived there when he went to the Wcrit Indies, it's naterul he should take a shadow of a gate. post, or somethin' or another for him, and think he actilly saw him. That will account for that part of it. Now suppose Murphy had taken a glass of grog extra that night, or a pound of pork more than common, got the night-mare, and fancied old Trots was a sittin a top of him, got scared at the dream, and died out of fright. That 'vill account for t'other part of it." "You may imagine anything," said Cutler; "but accordin' to that way of reasonin', all human testimony would be an illusion, and no one could ever be convicted. I believe that story firmly." '' So do I believe it firmly, too," said I; "but he didn't ask me if I believed it, he asked me if I could account for it ; and I never allow mystlf to bo stumped, so I just give him reasons he didn't think of. Yes, I believe it too, for Captain Taylor is as brave a man as ever Captain Torrens was, as little likely to be deceived, and a man of undoubted veracity. Yes, I believe it."* » These two stories ai'e given with the real names. The first is ■well known to an oflicer of the 7th, still living, who was intimately acquainted with the parties; and all those persons named in the second, wtre well known to myself. — Author. iin r*5- .HS in .:. Iii.^i |i ,f''' 1: : 1 .; 'I IGa T 11 K "WITCH OF E 3 K I S O N Y CHAPTER XVII. THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY. In the mornin', all was bustle on board of the 'Black Hank;' boats and canoes were alongside from various parts o^ the harbour, and a rapid sale was effected of the " notions " on board, either for money, or by barter for fish and oil. While these were conducted under the auspices of the mate and the pilot, I took the gig, anj puttin' into it my fishin'-tackle, rifle and earpet-bag, containin' a few changes, I rowed up the river to the residence of my old friend, Captin CoUingwood. The house was situated on a gentle acclivity, that sloped gradually down to the river, conimandin' a view of several of its windings, but sheltered from the Atlantic storms by a projectiu' wooded promon- tory, that shut in the harbour, and gave it an air of seclusion and repose. Seein' a man at some little distance, haulin' sea-weed in an ox-cart, I ascertained from him all the particulars concernin' the family, and the whereabouts of all its members. I always do this "when I visit a house artcr a long absence, to avoid puttin' ontimely questions. It isn't pleasant, in a gineral way, to inquire*after the old lady, and find her place supplied by another ; or after a son that's dead and buried, or a gal that's taken it into her head to get married without leave. Them mistakes make a feller look blank, and don't make you more welcome, that's a fact. " Don't cai'e," won't bear friendship for fruit, and ^^ Don't /mow, I'm siwc," won't ripen it. Life has a chart as well as a roast, and a little care will keep you clear of rocks, reefs and tiandhars. After I had heard all I wanted, sais I, *' Friend, one good turn deserves another, now your oil-ox aint as smart, or as stroim, as your near one." '' Well, that's a. fact," sais he, '' he aint." "Give him a little more of the yoke-beam," sais T, '* that will give him more purchase, and make him even with tother." " Well, I never thought of that," said he. " Mornin' " sais I. " Come, steward, you and I must be a movin'. " 'Never thought of that,'" said I, "Sorrow," addressin' of the nigger sarvant, "well, I don't believe that goney will ever 'think of that again/ for advice that ain't paid for ain't no gcod. But hero we are at the house ; now put down the things and cut for the vessel, you may be wanted ** THE WITCH OF KSKISOONY. 159 I must be a I paused a moment before knookin' at tlie door, to take a look at tlie Kconc before me. How familiar it looked! and yet how many tiiin'TS hud happened to mo siueo T was hero ! A member of tho cinbassy to London — an Attache — visitin' palaces, castles, country- seats and town-liouses. How will country gals in Nova 8cotia look after well-dressed fashionable ladies to England, that art has helped natur' to make handsome, and wealth held out tho puss to, wido open, and said, " Don't spare, for there's plenty more?" The Town Hall to Slickvillo, that seemed so largo afore I left, looked liko nothin' when I came back, the IMuseum warn't as good as an old curiosity shop, and tho houses looked as if tho two upper storeys ]|^d been cut off. ^ Will these gals of Collingwood's seem coarse, or vulgar? or fipn- saited, or ignorant, or what? If I thought they would I wouIan' as a mouse. " And T put my hools on the grass, and lifted up my weight with my hntids, and ampersanded forwards that way until I got near the tree?, when T took up my rifle, and made all ready. Just then the craekliu' of the .shruks showed som(!thing was niovin' on, and then the same noise was made further beyond, and in a min- ute or two, a beautiful largo stately carriboo came out of the thicket, BDuifed up the air, looked round cautious, and made as if he was a-goin' to take a drink, to cool his coppers. I drew a bead on him, and let him have it as quick as wink. Ho sprang up on ccnd, the matter of a yard or so, and fell right down dead in the bushes, when oflf started the herd among the alders, as if they 'd crush the whole of them into the intervale. "You've got him, Mr. Slick!" said Jemmy, who was about jumpin' up on his feet, when I pulled him down again. " Hush 1" said 1, " not a word for your life. Keep dark and lay low, they'll come back again to look after him presently, and then I'll get another shot." And I reloaded as fast as I could, crawled nearer llic +runk of the tree, and got a position for coverin' anythin' for some distance up and down stream. Arter layin' a while there, the same tramplin* was heard again, and then the same hard breath- in', and then the sounds of more than one advancin', when two lead- ers came out of the bush, and stood and looked at their old captain, a-wonderin' what on airtl was the matter with him, when bang went the rifle, and down went unother noble buck right across him. "Now, Jemmy," sais , " we can afl'ord to talk, for I don't want to kill no more. There ';i one for the house, and one for the * Black Hawk,' and it's my rule not to waste God's bounties." " And a very good rule it is, too," said Sophy. " I never could bear to hear of their bein' shot just for sport, and then left in the woods for the crows and foxes to eat. That don 't seem to me the purpose Providence designed 'em for. What on airth could have brought them away down here ? I don 't remember ever hearin' of any being so near the coast before." " The witch of Eskisoo — Oh ! I was very nearly in for it again I" says I. "Yes, yes," said she, laughin', " there's many a niisttike made on purpose." "There's something diiEcult to get out of the head of Sophy," sais I, "and some more difficult to get out of the heart." She col- oured some at that, and kinder looked down ; but, woman like, waa cunnin' of fence, and answered right ot''. "And among them the love of banter, that's born in some folks^ I do believe. But go on with your Annapolis story." " Well," sais I, and I rested agin on my elbow, and looked up into her beautiful face — for there 's no way a gall looks so pretty as when in that position. If they have to look up to you, it kinder ■i THE WITCH OP ESKISOONY. 165 who was about causes them to throw tho licad back, opens the t^ycs too wide, and (lOVcrs tl)e whole face with strong light, llnlf tho hcnuty, and more nor half the expression is lost. Besides, tho nock is apt to look cnrdy. When they look down, the eyelashes full, and tho eye is better i'hapod, more oval, less round, and is more liquii'. The beau- tiful bow-shape of the mouth shows better, tho ringlets hang grace- ful and there 's shapes here and there in tho face that sets it off grand. Nothin' ever looks pretty in glare. Tiiat's the ! dvantago ill paintin'. It makes one know what he could n't larn without it. My clocks have been tho makin' of me, that's a fact. Daubin' fii'ures on 'em set mo to study drawin' and paintin', and that mado mo study natur. An (irtiat h(ts wore than two iiji:>i, that's a fact. "Sophy," sais I, "afore I go, I must try and take you, just as you now sit." "Take mo ?" ;he said, lookin' puzzled. "Yes," sais i; "I have my drawin'-pencil and sketchiu'-block here, and if you only knew how becomiu' that attitude is — how beautiful you do — " "Oh, come now," she said, "don't talk nonsense that way, that's a good soul ! Go on with your story." "Well, I'll try," sais I, "tho' it's hard to think of one thing, and talk of another." The fact is, and there's no denyin' it, much as I've laughed at others, I was' almost spoony myself. " When I first went dow:; t^r Annapolis — Jemmy," sais I, "suppose you carry up that are salmon to the house; it's time it was there for dinner, and tell some of the men folks, when they return at twelve o'clock, to bring down a woodeu-shod ox-sled to carry up the deer. It will side over the grass most as easy as snow. When I first went to Annapolis," sais 1. Just then Sophy looked over her shoulder arter Jemmy, and seemed oneasy like; I suppose she didn't half like buin' left alone there with me u lolliu' on the grass, and sbo was right. It ain't enough for gulls not to (jive jx'ople reason to talk ; thei/ shoulchi't even (jive them a chance. But if she took mo into her calculations she was wrong. When folks confides in me, I'd die to presarve confidence. When they take the reins and trust to their own drivin', I leave 'em to take care of themselves, and jist look arter number one." " Mr. Slick," sais she, " I beg pardon for interruptin' you, but we are Icavin' poor Mary all alone. I think we'd better return, p'raps." "Jemmy," sais I, a callin' arter him ever so loud, "ask Miss Mary if she won't come and see a salmon caught. Oh ! don't go, Miss," sais I ; " I have to leave to-morrow, and it's such a treat for me to see you, and talk to you, you can't think." " To-morrow 1" sais she. " Oh my, you don't say so !'' " Well, let's talk of to-morrow/ ' sais I, " when to-morrow comes. V 1L. ■li- . 'I I- si #1 II yi'^'^i! 166 THE WITCn OP ESKISOONY. Sophy," and T took her hand, " Sophy," sais I, and I looked up into her face; I don't think she ever looked so handsome afore since she was born, " Sophy — " and what I was agoin' to say ain't no matter, for she kinder cut it short, and said : "Well, go on with your story then, Mr. Slick." Sam, sais I, to myself, a faint heart, you know, never won a fair lady ; you have turned into a nateral fool, I do believe. " Well," sais I, " when I first went to Annapolis, there was an old lady there, one Mrs. Lothrop, a very old woman ; and when she heard I was there, she sent for me. When she was a little girl, she lived at Brooklyn Ferry, where her father died when she was nine years old. Arter that, she lived in the house of a loyalist, named Lothrop, and married one of his sons, and when the war came, moved down to this country. " Well, she wanted to talk of Long Island,, and the old ferry, and the market day«<. and what not^ of old times. She said she would like to-eend her days there ; that she was sure the moon w?.s larger there than here, and shone brighter, and the fruit was better, and the people honester, and I don't know what all. It was a great comfort to her to see me, and hoar herself talk about those things ; and every tinie I went there, I used to go and sec her, it pleased her so. " Well, the last time I was to that town, the servant waked me up about daylight one day, and said, ' Mr. Lothrop' (that was her youngest son, for her husband had been long dead) ' was below, and wanted to see me in a great hurry.' " ' Tell him I'll be down torectly,' sais I. " ' Oh !' sais the servant, ' he is carryin' on dref».Jful down there, and fe-ais he must see you this very blessed minute.' "'Tell him to come up, then,' sais I, 'and I'll talk to him here in bed.' " Well, in run Lothrop, a-wringin' of his hand, and lookin' as pale as a ghost, and a goin' round and round the room, like a ravin' distracted bedbug." " What a curious expression !" said Sophy, and she larfed like any« thin'. " How droll you do talk, Mr. Slick !" "It's a way I have, sometimes," said I. "Well, go on," says she. " Well, all the goney could say was, • Oh, Mr. Slick ! oh, Mr. Slick ! — it's a dreadful piece of bu.siness about mother! 01* ! oh !' eais he, and he boohood right out, like a child. " ' Come, Lothrop,' sais I, a-raisin' of myself up in bed, ' bo a man, and tell me what you are makiu' this everlastin' touss about.' " ' Oh ! oh !* siiis he, * I cun't ; it's too bad !' and oflF he sot agin, ■ a blubberin' like a school-boy. " At last, I got riig under the sun as a witch ; if there was, you'd a-been hanged long ago, you're such a knowin' 'coon. Out with you !' '"Mr. Slick !' sais he, 'oh, Mr. Slick ! do come and see her, and tell us what to do with her !' " ' Well,' sais I, ' I will, for her sake : for I'd do anythinjg amost for her; but there's one thing I'd do willingly for you, and that is to kick you.' " ' Well, then,' said he, ' if she aint bewitched, I'll stand kickin* till you're tired.' " ' Done,' sais I. ' Go and b' mess up Old Clay, and I'll dress in a jiffy and off. Come, make yourself scarce : bear a hand.' " Well, as we drove along, ' Now,' sais I, 'Lothrop, if you don't want me to lose my temper, and pitch you right out of this here waggon, begin at the beginnin', and tell me this here foolish story.' " ' Foolish !' said he. ' Mr. Slick, I am sure — ' "I jist hauled up short. 'NojaW,' sais I. 'Just begin now, and tell it short, for I don't approbate long yarns,' (Sophy smiled at this, as much as to say how little we know ourselves, but she didn't say notuin'), 'or out you go.' " ' Well,' sais he, * it was night before last. Sir, about twelve o'clock, as near I can guess, that I first heerd the witch come to the house, and call Mother ! through the roof.' " ' What an everlastin', abominable, onaccountable fool you be, Lothrop,' sais I; ' but go on.' " ' Let me tell it my own way,' sais he. ' W^ell, Fanny had gone to bed before me, and wns fast asleep when I turned in, and I wap ■Mfwnii ^^^''"P*P"M'*< I if II 1 It^' m I 4iii Mil ' :i I li'i ill 'I lie J K II I C II B E Y N L> J II V A N . feel oncommon generous. 1 toM him 1 luid a beautiful little siugle- barrel partridire gun on bo.ird that I would give him, and a p'lwdor- flask and shot-belt, and that he must learn to shoot, for it was a great thing to bt* a good marksman. I'heni's noihin' like bein' the bearer of good' news. A feller that rides express with that is always well received. If you carry niisfortunnte tidin's to a man, he always looks at you artcrwards with a shudder. It's strange that your friends, tho*, like tht> last job the best. They arc amazin' kind in tellin' unkind things that has been said of you. Well, after dinner was over, and we returned to the sittin'-rcK^n, the i-aptin havin' asked to be excused for a few minutes to issue sotno indispensable orders to his men, I was left alone again with my twn young friends. What I am goin' to set down here, 8(juire, don't show me to advantage, that's a fact; but what in the n'lU-ld's the use of a false journal!!' Who would read it if ho dovd>ted it? 1 know people say I praise myself in my books, and cr'.ck them up too, and call me consaitcd, and say I'm a bit of a brag, and all that. Well, I won't say I aint open to that charge, lor boastin' comes as natural to us Yankees as seratchin' does to Scotchmen — it's in tho blood. ^)Ut if I miss a figure sometimes (and who don't when he totes u^ i lon^ column of life?) I'm will in' to say so. We /ind it c(hy enot^jh io direct others to (he right road^ hut ice can't a/ways Jind it oarsdva when we're on the ground. We can see plain enough wlien our acquaintances want advice, but wo aint so clear-sighted in our own case. If ever you was bilious, you've noiieed little black specks a floatin' about in the air before you just like gnats, and a very bo- therin' thing it is. You rub your peepers hard, and take a kind of strain with them to get rid of the nuisance, but it's no go; and you try cold applications to them, but it don't do no good. It aint the eye, it's the stomach that's wrong. AVell now, them specks are to be found in the mind's eye, too. They are pride, eons^.iit, avarice, spoonyness, rivalry, and all sorts of black things, and the mental vision's obscured. It isn't that the mind aint strong, but that it aint well regulated. I don't know whether you will take my meanin' or not, for it aint just easy to describe it. The fact is; I'm lookin' out for a wife, and courtin' is new to me ; and if I move awkward, I suppose I aint the first, by a long chalk, that's felt the want of a dancin '-master. " Mr. Slick," said Mary, "there is one thing I forgot to ask you." " What is that?" said 1. " Come, pop the question." "Are you married since we saw you?" "Well," sais I, "you little dear, I should have thought it a strange question, if it hadn't been for what I had heard from Jemmy." I cast a sly look at Sophy to see if she took any interest in the answer; but she was busy with some crotchet work, and jist thca JERICHO IIK YONI) JOHDAN. 177 ■ot to ask you." limltolx)k close down to it to t;iko up a .stitch that was dropped. There's uo gettiu' ft look at a gall'.s face when the riglit time to road it comes, that's a fact. When you do read it, you want the light of the two eyes, like two caudles, to ,sliow the text and study the con- text. Somehow th(!y do manage to throw 'em in the shade like exactly at that tinu% so that all you can do is to guess. ComrnlmoU tii i/iii/t. IIi(/i'n' f/io)if/hts, like fn't/iit' (hui(/s, ahoics thrre's a aecn-t. "Well," sais T, "it's a very nateral question for you to ask ; and, now I think on it, I ought to have told you before, especially artcr all that has passed. (Juess now, am I spliced or notl"' " Kinder sort of so," said she, "and kinder sort of not so. It looks as if you were married, scein' that you can afford to be impu- dent; and it looks as if you wasn't married, scein' that you think uiore of yourself — " "Than anybody else does/* sais I; "finish the sentence out. "Well done. Miss! I reckon you can afford . something as well as others can " " [ wasn't a-goin' to say that," she replied, "I was goin' to say "hnore than you think of others.'" Sophy worked hard but said nothin', but 1 consaitcd she didn't work (juite as fast as before. "Well, Mary," said I, "you've guessed right this time. You've actilly hit it ; somebody must have tohl you." "Hit what'/" said she, "I haven't guessed nothin'." "(Juess agin' then," said I. "No I won't," she said, " it aint worth .>gucssin' ; it's nothin' to me." "Nor to me either," said I, "so we'll drop a subject no one wants to talk about. They tell me the young curate is a very nice man, that came here lately, and that he sings like a nightingale " • Meet me by moonlight alono, And then I will tell thee a talc.' I saw that song of his on the table in my room up-stairs. Come, f'ing it with me, unless you caught cold to-duy. I'll talk to you about him, it's a subject that will interest one of us at any rate. Oh ! kSophy, don't tell him about that dip in the pool." "Come," said she, "Mr. Slick, come, you're not a-goin' to put mo cir with any such nonsense about the curate and his songs," and she got belli nd my chair. Soiiiethin' to hide there, sais I to myself, a blush that tells tales, a confusion that confounds, a surprise that's too (juick to be checked. " How damp your hair is, Mr. Slick," she said, pattin' it; "come now. gi\e a civil answer to a civil (juestion." She was not aware that that posture brought her before a largo looking-glass that Idled nearly all the space between the two windows. f fVW it I w. Ill' I ■i ' I! til! 41 178 JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN, ITor faco wns oovcrod with blushes of the deepest dye, and as Sophy looked up, r saw by tlie motions of her arm in the glass that she was shakin' her little fist at her. "Well, siiis I, "Miss, I thought it was liigh time some one should take charge of thiogs, so I jist made up my mind at onst, and took a mate J and this I will say, a liandsomcr one ia not to be found any- wlicre. I was jist a-goin' to ask leave of your father to go on board for the purpose of an introduction " " Wliy, Mr. Slick," said Mary, "you flirtin', rompin', rollickin, naughty man. Is that the way you're goin' to break your poor dear handsome little wife's heart, and make it thump like a clock strikin'?" Sophy placed her nettin' and both her hands in her lap, and lookin' up considerable composedly, but a little grain paler than be- fore, said: "There was no occasion for all this ceremony, Mr. Slick; if you think we are only glad to see our single friends, you form a wrong estimate of us. \Ve are always delighted to receive both, JSir." That word Sir, the way she pronounced it, was like apple-saroe t*) the goose, not a bad accompaniment, and to be taken together arter that. " Mary, tell father iMr. Slick is married, and has his wife on board, and if he will come with us, we'll go down and invite her up. This is ((uite an onexpectcd pleasure. Sir." But the Sir this time hud more of the tart in it, like cranberry sarce. "Mary," sais I, " what in the world are you at? are you a-goin' to break my heart ? are you tryin' to drive me mad ? Tell your father no such a thing. I not only never said I was married, but didn't even say there was a woman on board. I said I had a niato there, and so I have, and a rael handsome one too, and so he is, for he's the handsomest man in the American marchant sarvice." "Oh, Mr. Slick!" said Mary, "not married arter all! Well, I declare if that aint too bad ! Oh ! how sorry I am !'* " Why so, dear ?" sais I. " Because I was a-goin* to set on the old gentleman's knee, put my hand on his shoulder, and give him a kiss to tell me a story." "Why, Mary!" said Sophy. "Fact, dear," she replied ; "I'll never take any mote interest in him. He's the most forred, consaited, bewhiskered, and bebearded Yankee doodle-dandj' I ever saw. As she was passin' out of the room, I anticipated her by steppin' before her, and placin' my back to the door. "So that's the way you sarve the curate," sais I. "When ho reads the words from the book, ' dearly beloved,' don't they sound musical 'i" J E R 1 C 11 O BEYOND JORDAN. ITO like apple-saroe man's knee, put mo a story." her by steppin And tbcn I sang her the verse of another song «• * Oil 1 my hpiirt, my heart h breaking For tho lovo of Alio« Groy.' " I saw it among the old music on my table. There's no piniiin' up a woinaii in a corner, unless she wants to be caught — that's a fact — and have the bridle put on. So she just etlgtMl to tho open window, and out in no time. Instead of returnin' to njy seat, I sat down by Sophy. "What a lively, merry little thing your sister is?" said I. "I hope she will be happy." "Siie is happy." " Yes, but I hope she will be happy with tho curate." " Who told you that gossipin' story?" she said. "The same person," said J, "that informed me about the wi'ch of Eskisoony." "In tho iirst," she said, "there m;iy be somethin', in the last nothin' ; and I shall feel obliged by your not montionin* either before my father. Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridicu- lous (ire the. most adhesire." " Sophy !" said I, tryin' to take her hand. " Don't you see I am nettin' ?" she said ; "and that requires both hands. You're not a-goin' to take leave so soon ; are you ?" "Take leave !" said I; " no, what put that into your head." "Well then," she said, "what's the use of shukin' hands till then ?" and she looked up and smiled, and left out the word Sir, and its vinegary sound. After a second or two, she laid her nettin' down on her lap, and laughed like anythin'. " How completely you took in Mary !" said she ; " didn't you ?" "Was you taken in ?" sais I, "Sophy, dear," and I slipped her hand into mine, and she left it there. She did't lay down her nettin* on purpose that I should take what Bhe didn't appear to give. Oh ! of course not, that wouldn't be natur'. " Here's father," said she, drawin' back her hand gently, goin' on again with the nettin', and just shovin' her chair a little further off, by accident like, as she stooped to pick up her handkerchief; "per- haps he will go for your Quafe." ^Vell it was vexatious — that's a fact. " I wish," sais I, " that all tho fathers, brothers, sisters, and mates in the univarsal world were in tho North Pole." She had just time to look up and smile. And oh ! what a sight there is in that word — smile — for it changes colour like a cameleou. There's a vacant smile, a cold smile, a satiric Bmile, a smile of hate, an affected smile, a smile of approbation, a ttiggatktmmm ■EUUrUJHRAia 180 JERICHO BEYOND JORDAN. I. 'i friendly smilo, but, abovo all, a smile of love. A looman has two smi/es Unit lQ visit to Slickville. It would have been unkind, and unfair, and iiihospitable." *' That's very handsome, Sir," she said. " I'll answer for my father. We shall have great pleasure in goin'. Fix the time with liini. Here's Mary." " Mary I" sais I, lookin' at Sophy. " Don't she look more beau tiful than ever, noAv she has done a gracious thing. She has con- Bented to come to Slickville." "Ah!" she said, "that's fly-fishin'. There's nothin' like fly. lishin', is there, Sophy?" "There was nothin' like fly-fishin', I can assure you." "Oh! of course not. lie don't know how, and you are too prudish to show him. I never was so happy in all my life. I shan't sleep a wink to-night for thinkin' of Slickville. Will you, Sophy?" "i hope so, dear. I know of nothin' to keep me awake." "Nor 1 either," said I, "except the mortification that Mary refused me before she was asked." In this way, we entered the house. "Mr. Slick," said Mary, bringin' mo a sheet of paper, "give me gome idea of the kind of lookin' place yours is at Slickville, for it will often be the subject of my thoughts and dreams." " 1 have my sketch-book with me up-stairs, and everythiu' that interests me is there. 1 will go and get it." When 1 returned, 1 found my old friend. Aunt Thankful, the eldest sister of Mr. Collingwood, had joined the party. I had not seen her since my arrival at the house, but she seenud to me the only unaltered person in it. Younger she couldn't be in the natur' of things, but she was not a day older, and was dressed in the same antiquated style as when I last saw her. She asked me the same questions as of old. She in(|uircd how poor father and mother, and dear old Minister was. Well, they were all dead, and I didn't like to shock her, and I told her they were quite well when I last saw them. It distressed me dreadful, and the poor girls hung their heads and were distressed, too. Well, I sheered ofl' as soou as I OOuld, and opened the portfolio. "Oh, Soph\, look here !" said Mary, " isn't this a beautiful place? What lovely grounds you have! — they are so extensive ! How much money they must have cost!" " i learned the value of time, dear, by measurin' hours and minutes 80 accurately. I worked for it, and the bread of industry is sweet." " Let me look at it," said Aunt Thankful, and she put ou hef ' rt JERICnO BEYOND JORDAN. 186 Bpectaclcs and examined it. " Dear me," she said, " how much that looks like Prince J]dward's Lodfio, ou Bedford Basin. The last time I was at Halifax, I was at a ball there. Little did I think, then, I was talkin' to the father of a future Queen of England ! "■ ' Miss Collingwood/ he said, ' you don't appear in your usual spirits to-niglit.' " ' Please your lloyal Highness,' sais I, ' it's the awful execution to-day!" " ' I assure you, Miss Collingwood,* said the Prince, * there has been no execution done to-day,' and he lowered his voice, ' but by your beautiful eyes.' "That was a very flatterin' speech, wasn't it, from a King's son ? For there are more eyes on them than on other folks, which makes them better judges. " ' What do you allude to ?" said his Royal Highness. " ' Two men shot for not bein' shaved, three for havin' a button off their coats, and the drum-major for havin' lost his queue.' " The Prince said I was deceived j and my father stormed and raved like a mad-man when he heard it, and said, if Mrs. Fiudlay, who told me the story, was a man, he'd shoot her." "Aunt," said Mary, to get rid of a story that mortified them, "do send Jemmy off to bed j see how sleepy he is, he has just fallen off" his chair." Poor girls! I pitied them. People have no right to make fools of themselves, tmless they have no relations to blush for them. "But what is this?" said Mary, when she was relieved of her aunt; " what a dear little church !" " It was the church of my poor old friend, Mr. Hopewell. After the shepherd died, tht llock dispersed. It's mine now." She looked at me for a minute or two in most eloquent silence. I knew what was passin' tb-o' her mind; but she said nothin'. I read her little innocent he .irt as plain as a book — and a beautiful book it was too. She cioidnucd to regard it with deep interest for awhile, and then returuain; to its place, without another word; but 1 saw a tear in her eye. ss- she passed on to the others. " lUU what i~ this !: said she. " Look here, Sophy !" as she took up a daguorrotjpe-case and opened it. *• Mary, dear," said Aunt Thsmkful, who had returned, " Mary, dwir," and she pressed 'he foreiinger and thumb of both hands on her shoulders, •' do sit up straight, dear. I can't bear to see young ladies stoop so, do you, Mr. Maxwell?" " Perhaps ' she stoops to conquer,' " said ho. " i," said Aunt Thankful, "don't know what stoopin' is, unless his lloyal — " "Well, aunt," said Mary, "I'll sit as straight as an arrow, a bul- ruih, a diiU-sorgoant, a pike-statf, tlag-statl", or anythiug you like, to 16* i s ^ ofoni you ^o. Sopliy, order up s;oine supper." The young' ladies were fairly fixed. Their father's invitation didn't extend to thorn. Aunt ITotty, too, was in a hurry, and they couldn't help thenisolves; so they exchanged adieus with me, which, considerin' the onwelcomo presence of their father and the guests, was as cordial and aflectiouate as they well could he. As they reached the door, Mary said, " Mr. Slick, 7)uist you rcaUi/ go to-morrovsr ? Can't you spend one day more with us?'^ I knew and felt that I ought to go, and said, I feared it wafj on- possible to detain the vessel any longer " Where do you go next?" she said. "What is the name of the nearest harbour?" sais I. 1 knew as well as she did that it was Port Jolly ; but jist axed for somethin' to say. "Jericho," she replied. ''Don't you know that this is Jordan? and don't you know the next is Jericho ? Now, if you won't stay, you may just ounterparts. " Well, the lady had three sons, and £iS soon as they were born; they had the bear's shirt j)ut on ; and one thing ;s sartin, they were all three men of undoubted courage. One was killed in battle in Canada, a captin in the British army. The other two were civilians, men that nobody would think of takin' a liberty with. The hair shirt is in existence still. I seed it mvself, and have a small bit of the yarn to home now." " Well done, Slick," said Collin^''wo(i'i, "that's not a bad yarn.' " It's a fact, though, I assure you L know the family as well as I do yourn." Here there was a knock at the door, and an inquiry made for the Captin. The voice was that of Mr. Eldad Nickerson, who had come up for orders. " Come in," said Collingwocd. '' Come in, Mr. Nickerson. Tho >> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V. -% ^ •^ mJi V C<'x {/ r^' iJ7 / Ux 1.0 If "^ i^ I.I 1^ 1= 1.8 1.25 1.4 1 6 ■• 6" •»■ "/A ^ /a ^^M ^ ,>^ CM/ o> ^^• O / / # /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAli>< S. !,^:-T WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 €^.r Vx % w^smmmmmmmm j)' if 192 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIB. I 'I i 11 w lilt ladies have retired, and wc are goin' to spin yarns. Come in, and help us. You have just missed a capital one/' After a little mock Hiodesty on tlio part of the Pilot, he allowed himself to be persuaded, and joined the circle. " Well," said I, " pilot, how have you got on to-day ?" " Grand, Sir,^' he said ; " better than I expected. Arter you left us a light breeze sprung up, and took us in a very few minutes tc the anchoriu'-ground, and everythin' was made snug and safe." " Payin' out the cable," said Cutler, who took up the conversation here, " operated as a signal to the Indians, who_ soon came on board to sell their beautiful burk-work, consistin' of slippers, ornamented with porcupine's quills, died of various colours, and beads fancifully arranged, nests of circular boxes and chair-bottoms finished in e same manner, and baskets of every shape and siie made of birciim strips, not unlike the English willow manufacture. All these found a ready sale for presents to friends on our return, and the men were desired to come back immediately to traffic for oil and fish. The In- dians of New England have long since disappeared from that part of the continent in which I was born, and the first I ever saw were those of Nova Scotia. What a noble race they still are, though European vices and diseases, and above all, ardent spirits, have done BO much to demoralize them. What an interesting people they are !" "Well, I don't think so," said Eldad. "They are a dirty, idle, lazy, vagabond crew. Swalier like a crane, and sleep like a hog. Whon they have nothin' to eat, they hunt, or fish, and if they fail at that, beg. It's a common phrase with us white folks, that a feller is as mean as an Indgin, or begs like an Indgiu } and when they can't eat no more, and can't sleep no more, they squat down and play checkers. If that's intercstin', then I want to know? How the plague can people be interestin' that take no interest in anythin' onder the sun ? that's my logic. Why if they were to see a rail-car or a balloon for the first time, they wouldn't as much as stop to lock at it, but just pass on, as if it was an old story. They hante got no curiosity, and they hante got no ambition ; and what's the use of a critter that hante got them two senses. When I was to Pictou for a load of coal last year, I met an Indgin at the pit waitin' for the foreman, to beg, I suppose. This officer was an Englishman ; but old moose-meat didn't )mow that them folks in a general way are most as silent as a savage — would sooner give money anytime than Btop and jaw. "'Indgin,' sais I, 'how do they raise the coals out of that ere everlastin', almighty dark hole?' " * Why,' sais he (for they always have an answer, right or wrong), * why,' sais he, ' lightem up fire, make tea-kittle boil, and up comee coal.' " * Great invention that, Indgin, aint it r" sais I. TEREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. 198 it of that ere " ' No,' sals be, ' white man fool. If wood is scarce, instead of makin' forest come as you do, Indgin goes to it. Indgin no fool ; he builds his wi.'waui where wood, water, fi«h, and huntin' nil meet. He bus notbin' tu do but stretchem out hand, help himself, and go to sleep. White men work all the time; work for drink, work for eat, work for coat, work for horse, work for ox, work for everytbin\ Indgin never works.' " What do you think of such a feller as that, eh ? Mighty inter- estin', aint it?" ^ "It's his logic, and that's all," said the skipper. "Fact is they didn't understand each other. One was a scholar, and the other a practical man. One looked at the past and future, and was filled with wonder and awe at the mysterious decrees of Providence; the other at the use and fitness of things before his eyes. I understood them both. Is there nothin' interesting," said Cutler, "in the fact of a noble race that peopled a whole continent being destined to dis- appear from the face of the earth, and leave no trace behind them ? Whence came they ? Who are they? And for what wise purpose is it, that they are to cease to exist ? In workin' out their extinc- tion — for wo are used as the instruments — are we not working out our own condemnation, and leaving an inheritance of sin and shame to our posterity ? . As Christians and as men this is a solemn ques- tion, and one which we shall, doubtless, be one day called upon to answer. Is there nothing interesting in their trac.itions, their legends, and above all, their language ?" " As for their language," said the pilot, " 1 would as soon learn the language of the wolf, or the bear. What in natur' is the use of it, except to trade ? and signs will do for that." " Mr. Slick," said Cutler, " aint those beautiful pictures that Cooper has drawn of the Indian chiefs in his novels ? Don't they give you the idea of a splendid race of men ? of nature's nobility ? In form, models of manly beauty; in qualities of mind equal to the Buges and heroes of antiquity." "Tell you what," sais I, "friend Cooper's trade was fiction, and fiction aint truth, whatever else it is. I can't write books as woll as be did, but Fin a bit of en artist in my own line, and can draw and paint a little, too." " That you can," said Collingwood, " and draw as long a bow as any Indian or author." * " Thank you for nothin'," sais I, " I owe you one for that." " Well," sais he, " you are able to pay it, if any man can, that's a fact." " Well," sais I, " there are two kinds of pictures, fancy sketches and sketches from natur.' His are all fancy work. I have been a great deal among the Indgius, and know them well. There never were such chiefs as he has drawn, and they never acted or talked 17 ^ If |"ftfw /94 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE <:■ ' I that way. It's the fashion with us to make grand speeches for them, and make them talk like Ossian's heroes — ^half mist, foam, and cat- aract, and half sun, moon, and stars, with a touch of insauity, run- nin' through all. It sounds beautiful, school-galls get 'em by heart, and call 'em sublime ; and commencement-day boys spout them out with awful effect ; while thoir mothers open their mouths and swal- ler all, and their fathers scratch their heads, to feel if their scalps are safe, it sounds so nateral. A feller that can feed off a dead horse, that would pyson a crow, and smack his lips after it, and then go and lie down on his belly, and drink green swamp water by the quart, may be a hero; but he can't, accordin' to the natur' of things, be any great shakes of an orator. If he can, we had better shut up shop to Cambridge, and say larnin' is all buncum. They are a fine race of men, no doubt, and Providence had to make 'em so, other- wise wild beasts would have made mince-meat of them long before the Europeans did ; but still, they are savages after all, and savage vices ever predominate over savage virtues. The questions you have broached, are deeply interestiu', I do suppose; but Paul Tomahawk, and Peter Scalpin-kuife are ugly customers, and not so easily civil- ized as you think. Old maids fancy nobody knows how to bring up children but them ; but children know they are dry-nurses, and laugh at 'em. And Boston and Philadelphia philosophers think that they know how to christianize, humanize, and civilize savages; but savages look on 'em as harmless, tame cattle, that live on rich pastures, and like to lie down, chaw the cud, and look wise. " Take a wild duck's eggs (I have often done it), hatch 'era out under a tame one, and as soon as their wings are strong enough, oif they go, it's their natur'. Or rob a hawk's nest, and hatch one of its eggs under a pea-hen, with her own, as soon as the young gentle- man begins to feel his helm, he sups on his foster-brothers and sis- ters, and soars away with his nurse in his claws for dinner. That's the gratitude of savage life. You can't do it ; no how you can fix it. They have an old proverb here, and I like proverbs, there is so much truth in 'em, in a small compass. An Indian, a partridge, and a spruce tree can't be tamed." "Do you think they can't be civilized ?" he said. "No," sais I, "I don't think no such thing. But we go the wrong way to work. The voluntary principle won't do, you must constrain 'em. Children arc constrained, and so are school-boys, and so are students at universities, to say nothin' of apprentices and servants. Well, sodgers are disciplined by constraint, and so are sailors, the most difficultest people in the world to deal with. Well, society is constrained by laws, police-officers, jails, penitentiaries, and gallowses. What in natur' is the use of talkiu' tu savages. They have nothin' in common with you. They don't think like you, value what you do, or have the same springs of action. It's all moon* THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE 195 shine, it's beginnin' at the wrong oend. See what foolg the British made of themselves in the Caffre wars, from not knowin* this ! Treatin' them naked savages like gentlemen, and takin' their word for peace. What the pla^iue do Enirlish generals know about bqsh- fightin' ? or the natur' of thera heathen, ontamed, rampaginous imps of darkness ? And what security will they ever have of them crit- ters keepin' the peace longer than when their. stock of cattle is renewed, and a fresh supply of arms and ammunition laid in ? But that's their look out, and not mine ; and this I will say, some of our Peace Society folks haven't much reason to larf at thera either. " These wise men of Goshen sent a missionai-y onct to the Bur- mese. Well, one day he built a bamboo tent near one of their tem- ples, and as the heathens were goin' to idolotrize, he stood at the door to preach to them, and convart them. He took for his tex* that passage that refers to livin' water that quenches thirst for ever. Well, it was a capital text, if they could have understood it; but they didn't; and off they ran as hard as they could lick, and what was his horror when he saw them all return with can?, cups, gourds, calabashes, and what not for the fluid ; and when they found he hadn't it, they pulled down his bamboo camp, and took the sticks and thrashed him amost to death. In fact, he never did get over it. He died from that are beaten. They called him a Yankee cheat, and it lowered our great nation amazinly — fart, I assure you. The right way is — but you and I aint a-goin' to be missionaries, so we wont enter into details ; at least, I aint. I don't want to be grilled and eat for supper, that's a fact. I'd like to see them convarted into Christians; but I don t want to be converted into a curried clock- inaker, I can tell you. They are far above niggers though, that I will say; and they despise those woolly-headed, thick-sculled, long- heeled, monkey-faced gentleman as much as you or I. In that particular, they have more pride than we have. White women do sometimes marry niggers, but an Indgin gall never. She'd die first. The Indgins here in this country are no fools, I tell you. Though they do eat like a boa-constrictor, swallow enough at one meal to last for two days, and that muddifies the brain, still they know what's good, and aint above lookin' a gift horse in the mouth. Lord ! I shall never forget an evenin' onct that I was goin' down I^a Haive river, in a canoe with two Indgins. Well, dark come on, and it began to blow like statiee, and I saw a light in a house in the woods, and I told them to run ashore for the night. " ' Now," sais I, * strike up a light here, and take a stretch for it in the bush, and hold on till mornin'. Well, we hauled up the canoe, and knocked up a shelter in no time, and as I was a-goin* towards the cottage of a highlander that lived there, to get a night's lodging, a little wrinkled man in an old homespun dress that was onct blue, but had grown grey in the sarvice, and wearin' a sealskin 196 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. k. \ cap, came towards me. I thought by his Innk he was one of the lair-l's helps, or, as they call it, a joict of his tail, that had small wagps and ])oor fare. " Hallo, frieT)d,' aais I, 'do you belong to this house?' "'Nae, she don't belong to the hoose,* said ho, 'but the boose belongs to herself. It's Squire Ilory iM'Tavish you have the honour to speak to.' " Well, thinks I to myself, considerin' you havn't so much as a pair of breeches to wear, that piece of pride aint bad, that's a factj the pattern of the kilt is big enough, in the hands of a good tailor to make you a pair; but who on airth gave you the name of Rory? What a devil of a fellow you'd bo af roarin', wouldn't you frighten the grasshoppers u'most? I thought I should have roared out myself. Well, you are a riproario'.is fellow, Rory, and no mistake ; but I wanted a bed and a supper, sol soft^-sawdered hin], and smoothed the laird down, and by the time we reached the house, we were as thick as two thieves. The little feller was a good-hearted critter too, as all Highlanders are, and out came a hearty welcome, and then out came the whiskey, and then out came his wife — a better feller than he was, ^nd far better-lookin' too — a rael jolly nice little woman, " ' How did you come ?' said she. "Well, I told her.about the canoe, and the Indgins, and all that, "What!' she said, 'the poor Indians sleepia' in the heather! Murdoch,' sais she, addressin' a little bare-footed chieftain, that had a head of red hair that would have stuffed a gall's side-saddle a'most, ' go and bring them up here, they must have a supper, and sleep b^ the fire.' Well, everythin' went on swimmingly. They gave me a capital supper, and we told capital stories. I know hisn must have been capital, though I didn't understand a word of them, for he larfed sa in tellin' them, they nearly choked him; and I roared in tellin' mine, foi.' I knew he could not make out what I was talkin' about either. I haw-hawed so loud, that I actilly waked up the cock that was roostin' in the porch, and sot him off a crowin' too. We kicked up a great bobbery, that's a fact. In the midst of it, in comes Mrs. McTavish, lookin' as red as a turkey-cock, and struttin' like a ban- tam-hen, head up stiff and strait, wings extended angry-like, till thej scraped the floor. She was in a riproarious passion, if she didn't talk quick, it's a pity. First she talked Gaelic, and then she trans- lated it. She made a long yarn of it ; but the short of it was this, she gave the Indians a pot of burgoo — oatmeal and water — for their supper, and they refused to eat it, savin' : ' M.iy be very good for Scotchmen and pigs, but Indian no eat it,' and walked out of the bouse in high dudgeon. " Oh ! didn't little Rory roar, and Mrs. Rory rave, and didn't 1 THREE TKoTIIS FOR ONE LIE. m 5 one of tha A had small lut the hoose ;e the honour so much as a that's a fact ; good tailor to me of Rory? you frighten (re roared out d no mistake ; , and smoothed so, we were as •ted critter too, omc, and then -a better feller oily nice little IS, and all that. 1 the heather! eftain, that had e-saddle a' most, sr, and sleep by ve mo a capital nust have been for he larfed so oared in tellin' las talkin' about p the cock that ,0. We kicked in comes Mrs- tin' like a ban- ry-like, till they if she didn't then she trans- of it was this, ater— for theii very good for iked out of the ^e, and didn't 1 go into convulsions? I thought I should have died on tho spot for want of breath. I joined in berating tho Indians though of course, or I should have been obliged to cut .stick too; but it was almost too much for my ribs. "Well done, hairy scAlp.s, .^ais I to myself, well done, hairy scalps, your pride has outijono liairy legs this time at any rate. Oh dear ! how Ambassador laughed, when he heard that story. " It was the first time I ever heerd him laugh, for, in a general way, he only smiles, and gives a twinkle out of the corner of his eye But that time he laughed right out, and sais he : " * Sam/' and he took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes ; ' Sam, don't tell that story here to London, There are a great many- chieftains here in the season, and you wouldn't know they weren't lowlanders, for they conform to the fashion, wear trousers, and dress quite decent. I like them myself, they are a fine, manly, good- hearted race, but they are very national and very touchy, and you'll get called out as suie as you are born.' n ( "Weiy gais I, ' let them call ; but they must call louder than little Hory, if they want a man to listen to them. If a feller thinks to stop my talk, he's mistaken ; for if I don't make a hole in bis cheek big enough to hold the tube of his unchristian bagpipe in, my name isn't Sam Slick. Ambassador,' sais I, ' Latin and Greek is your forte. If a feller held a pistol to you, and told you not to speak them languages, or if you did you must go out with him, would that stop you? I kinder guess not. Well, I wouldn't swap my stories for your Latin and Greek, nor the embassy to boot; and no Highlander, from Ben Lomond to John O'Groat's, shall stop me.' "I saw he was bothered. He didn't know what to say. He didn't approve of duellin', but still he was a Yankee, and wouldn't like to have one of the embassy called a coward. "'Sam,' sais he, 'it's a serious matter herj; if it eends fatally it's murder. What would you do under the circumstances ?' said he, lookin' very grave. " ' Act like a man. Sir,' sais I. " Accept his invite at once, and be gallus polite ; give him his choice of weapons, rifles or pistols, or sitten' straddle-legs across a keg of gunpowder, but resarvo the choice of ground to myself. Well, as soon as he makes his selection, which would be pistols of course, he'd say, now name your ground. Well, I'd say, I take it for granted I shall let daylight through you, for I'm a dead shot; but perhaps you think you are a deader one, and make sartin you'll fix my flint. Now, in order to spare the survivor's life, and have no arrests or trials about it, and save judges from talkin' hippocritical, say the right bank of the Mississippi. N;;nie your day. But I hope you won't be offended with me, as 1 know the country better than you do, for advisin' you to wear trou- sers there instead of kilts, or as sure as you're born, you will nc t 17* 198 THAEE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. % lb m'\ reach the ground alive, for the galley-nippers. I wish you a good mornin*.' " 'Sara,' sais he, 'what a way you have of makin' fools of people. " ' It's a knack, Sir,' sais I, 'we Connecticut people have, and it's useful in important things as well as in trifles, as the nigger says in the song : " Oh, habbent I de knack, Ob suckin' sugar-candy and driukin' apple-jack." " There is some tun in Indians, too, Captin," sais I, to go on with my story about 'em. "I was once to Liverpool Falls, when I was in this country last, and there was a feller called Tony, took a very good rise out of a settler near there, called Bednigo Latty. Bednigo met him one day in the road, in winter, and as soon as Tony saw him, he began to limp and make faces. " ' What's the matter, Tony '/' sais the other ; ' have you hurt yourself?' "'Oh!" said Tony, stoppin' short, puttin' down his gun, and restin' over the muzzle, 'me most dead, me tired out; me no drag my legs along scarcely. Mister Latty; me chase moose, very big moose,. two whole days; and when I kill him at last, me so tired, me not able to skin him, or bring any meat home to my squaw. I give him to you ; if you go for him you shall have him. Only give poor squaw one small piece for her dinner.' " 'Yes,' said Bednigo, 'and thank you, too; but how shall I find moose ?' " ' Oh ! I tell you so you find him, sartin «ure. You know Grand Lake ?' " ' Yes.' " ' You know where neck of land runs way out ever so far, into lake?' "'Yes.' " * You know where large birch tree grows out of the end of that neck ?' " ' Yes.' " ' Well, moose just under that birch tree there; very big moose. You (jfet him, you have him.' " Well, next mornin' Bednigo makes up a huntin'-party, and off they starts through the woods, eight miles as the crow flies, in a straight line for Grand Lake ; and at the upper end of it, four miles further, they found the neck of land, and the big birch tree, but no moose, and no signs of one, or tracks cither. " Well, they returned home as savage as bears, for they knowed they would be larfcd at by the whole settlement, for bein' took in so by an Indian. But they sarched all round the lake first, in hopes of haviu' somethin' to bring home, and detarmined if they did, not 1 you a good ols of people, have, and it's ligger says in THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. 199 II ;, to go on with Is, when I was oy, took a very ,atty. Bednigo n as Tony saw have you hurt n his gun, and at ; me no drag moose, very hig me so tired, me squaw. I give Only give poor how shall I find re. You know ever so far, into the end of that very big moose. I'.party, and off crow flies, i^ ^ of it, four miles lirch tree, but no for they knowed I bein' took in so Ike first, in hopes if they did, not to tell the story ; but they had no luck that day, and they camped out, and hunted the best part of next day, but saw nothin', and returned as tired, in fact, jis Tony pretended to be, and awful hungry, for they intended to feed on the fresh steaks. "The next time Bednigo saw the Indian, 'Hullo!' sais he, 'what did you mean by tellin' me that lie about the moose, and sendin' mo away out there, to make a fool of me, 'you Indgian rascal? I have a great mind to thrash you, you villain !* " ' What lie V said Tony, very gravely. " * Why that lie about the moose.' " ' Ah 1' said he, ' you no gettum moose ?' "No! of course I did'nt; there was none there, and you knowd it well enough.' "'Very strange,' said Tony, 'you no gettum moose/ quite un- moved by the threat. • Did you find grand lake ?' " ' Yes.' " ' Well, that's one. Did you find neck of land runnin' away out into water ?' "'Yes.' " ' Well, that's two. Did you find big birch tree V " ' Yes.' "'Well, that's three, and you no findem moose?' "'No.' " ' Well, that's three truths for one lie. Pretty well for Indian — ttint it? When I sold you my furs last spring, you cheated me, and what you said was all one grand big lie. You no pay me yet — cheatera Indian — cheatem devil,' and he drew back a step or two, and began lookin' to the primin' of his gun, which Bednigo thought, as they was alone in the woods, was a hint Congress was broke up, and members had better cut ofi" for home, so he hung his head, and made tracks. I guess humour is in 'em, for they understand a joke, and enjoy it. Many a time I've made 'em laugh, by givin' them a droll idea dressed in Indian phrases and familiar words. The fact is, natur' is natur' all the world over, and the plainer talk is, and the simpler written it is, the nearer to life is it, and the longer it is re- membered — or lives. " I have often heard old Minister say, the ' Vicar of Wakefield * is more nor a hundred years old, and is a common book now, because it's written in common language; and will be a popular work a hun- dred years hence, on that account, altho' it's no great shakes arter all. It don't require a scholar to enjoy it. Why is it if you read a book to a man you set him to sleep ? Just because it Is a book, and the language aint common. Wl y is it if you talk to him he will sit up all niglit with you, and s.ny, ' Oh ! don't go to bed yet, Biay a little longer V — Just because it's lalk, the language of natur*. "It's only lawyers that read law books, and doctors that read 200 TUREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. doctor's books, and college foVks that read L'itin and Greek. Why? Because nobody else onderstauds 'eni. They are out uf their way. Well, some books are read in the parlour, and some in tho kitchen ; but the test of a rael genuine good book in, t!iat it i.s read in both. Why ? Because it shows it'.s nateral ; for nutur' is the saino in both. It only differs in the dress; it's more transparent in the kit- chen, it's only covered witlv gauze thcro, just for de-jcncy's sake. It's dressed in silk in the other, and aint just quite as easy seen through. •■' Anythin' to please must be nateral, Tdnn't care what it is. Now talk nateral to an Indgian, in l.iii'^Miage s'ach a.s he uses in conMnoii, and use ideas that he uses, and put hu^nour into thoni, and see if he don't larf. A little thing makes a iran larf, and next to uothin' makes a crowd roar. We am full of ckm'fi, from the da'pcst-toned silver stringy like tlutt of the harp, vp tc the little short iipprr sharp one that is only tv:o inehes lon men, a nateral gumption takes 'em to a right conclusion long afore "k man has got half way through his argument. Now men without women's sociaty are like bodies without souls, heavy lumps of mortaJity; it's that donjcstic degradation of the wife among savages that beastifies the mind of the man. "He is thoughtful, but not plajful; knowin' but silent; 'cute, but not humorous. It's a great pity the misfnrtunate critters avf^- so fond of rum, it's the ruin of them j they will sell anytbiu'. a'must to buy it. " Joe Nogood made a capital anslver to an innkeeper onct, when he was purchasiu' a bottle of spirits from him. Be was very angry at the price, which was just double what it ought to be. He ob- jected a long time, but could get no abatement. Tho innkeeper tried to make him onderstand the loss of keepin' a cask of rum on hand for any length of lime, and explained tp him about the interest of money that he was losin' on the principal spent in the purchase. (A pretty hard thing I guess to make an Indgian_ comprehend what interest of money is — who never received or paid any, and never had any capital all his life.) Joe'pretended that all he know was it used to cost three shillings a bottle ; and now he was asked six ; and he gave him to understand he didn't think much of his principle to extort arter that fashion, and didn't thin}: it was for his interest TIIREK TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. 201 eol<. Why? i)f their wny. tho kitchen ; read in hnth. the same in ]nt in the kit- pocncy'b sake. ! as easy seen lat it is. Now ■s in connnoii, ni, and see if [icxt to uothin' c (Jcepcst-toned rl itpj>'r sharp •otL'u that is in n't harmonize. aif, unless it is ieve in my soul led would make uns comes from y sharp, quick- atcral gumption is got half way society are like 3 that domestic ies the mind of ut silent; 'cute, ,te critters are so anytliiu' a'must either, for he would never buy a>iy more of him again. But the barman arpund away, and at last wound up hy assertiik' that betwcea wastago, li'iikago, bad debts, and interest, it cost as much to keep a hogshead of rum on hand as to keep a cow. Joe mused a while and knowin' how tho feller was in tlie habit of adulteratin' the rum, by the aid of the pump, brought him up all short, " 'Ah,' said ho, ' maybe cask drinkum as much water as cow, but sartain no eatum as much hay.' "And bavin' given him that poke ho paid the price, took up his bottle, and walked. And as he got to the door he turned and sliook bis fist at the extortioner, and said, almost speechless with rage, 'Now uian, I say damn.' **Au Indian is a child of iiatur', eyes like a lynx, heart like a lion, nose like a pointer, cunnin' like a fox, constructive like a beaver, destructive like a tiger, appetite like a boast of prey, and the propen- Bities of the devil, and yet he has an instinct runnin' into strong roasonin' faculti*. What then is tho difference between him and us? Christianity. Ah I that is a great thing, if we only knew how to teach it to them, and let them see our example was equal to our precepts. They have b/ts of lamp ilc, what a jiity it is they can't read. It's the fashion among easy-chair Christians to England to undervalue tho labours of bisliops in foreign parts. It's a great pri- vilege to abuse a bisiiop and praise a savige — aint it? It's Christian charity too, for as this mitcrcd gentleman has to bear all things, he has to put up with your sarc^. Well, he has to have his fo"(i cooked in course, for he is used to it. The dear child of natur' ev. a raw. "A bishop's taKk is no easy one at any rate, and it is nade more difficult by other sects underminin' him in his labours, andf ayin' he has no Scriptural authority. II ow in the world is lawn sleeves agoin' to convart a critter whose appetite is stronger than a pig's, who drinks dog-fish oil, thickened with blubber, the most awful pisonous stuH' in the world, and dines off of whale-steaks, cut out of a fish that died afore the flood, and has been prcsarved ever since in natur's ice- house at the North Pole. If bishop is goin' to do the civil, and take pot hi']' with him, and wants to soft-sawder him, he must go lower down slill than that, so that savage may say : ' This Christian cbap is a very sociable feller, arter all, but I guess ho aint used to such delicacies to home as dead foxes, and shipwracked seals.' Still the question is : what is the difference between us Christians and savages ? The great thing is to settle what that term Christianity means. We ought to onderstand it, you know, for we expound it at our tea-parties, aud teach our parsons. "A savage looks at us and our doin's, and says, Christians is no great shakes arter all. Aint that shockin' now ? You must double your subscriptions,- old ladies. He says we don't onderstand our- Belves, and asks what in the world is the meaniu' of that word Chris- I 202 THREE TRUTHS FOR ONE LIE. tiiinity? Ono is nicknamod an idolater, and has a fisherman's rinp;, when it's wi'll known fislicrnion never wore rings. And t'other is briiiiilcd a heretic, who wears long bands to look wise, which were never itivented until long beards were cut off. And the third is a free livin' and free thitikin' gentleman. lie -uys: they preach good •will to all men and iiatc each other like the devil. They fight among then)selves, and use us as tools. One lias a book called a IJible, and t'other burns it. One tolerates, and t'other intolerates. They hate each other like pyson, and use words which we call im- pious. They fight even in death, ft>r they won't sleep side by side in the .same gravo-jard. Oh ! it's no use talkin', Captin Colingwood, Christianity should be intrusted to tlie cliureh to teach savages, and not to Tom, Dick and Harry. False teachin' and bad examples hrrnxj rum, ruin, disease, treachery, and death to the Indians. 1 don't wonder Johny Nogood, who knew our favorite oath, said : * Now man, I say damn.' " " Slick," said Cutler, " I never heard you tallf so well afore. There is a great deal of truth, in tliat, although you have put it in a way to make my flesh'crawl." Says T, " Cutler, I haven't put it half strong enough ; but I actilly thought Sophy (Oh Lord ! I thought I should have died, for it came out afore old Colingwood so sudden; but I went right ahead, for if you get into a slough or honey pot, you can't stop, you must whip up, yielk, talk slang, and bolly the team, and put them through, for if you hold on one minute, rhe cattle can't or won't start the load agin, and you are in a pretty frizzle of a fi.K, so I went right ahead) or dear little Mary, (as if Sophy wasn't twice as dear) and Aunt 'Thankful, and all were present, for in course we talk more resarved afore ladies, than by ourselves. But still," sais I, a lightin' of my candle, and risin' to go to bed (for I wanted to think of Sophy and not of savages), "depend upon it, Colingwood — man to man, face to face, and without bunkum, I don't wonder when an Indian looks at us and says, 'Now man, I say damn.' "* * Two hundred and fifty years ago, very similar remarks were made by .1 French gentleman, who Inis loft us an interesting account of his visit to Nova Scotia: " Et ne faut point m'all^guer ici le pr(Stexte de la rdligion. Car (CO. lime nous avons dit ailleurs) ils ont tout tuez les originaires du pais avec des supplices lea plus inhumains que le diable a peu excogiter. Et par leurs cruaut^s ont rendu le nom de Dieu un nom de scandale a ces pauvres peuplcs, ct I'ont blasphemd continucllement par chacun jour nu milieu des Gen tils, ainsi que le Prophete le reproche au peuple d'Israel. TtSmoin celui qui airaa mioux estre dannie que d'aller au paradis des Hes- oagnols." — LescarboC Hist, de La Nouvelle France, p. 483. AUNT THANKFUL AND II ER ROOM 208 prman's nnj», Vnd t'other is 0, which were the third is a y preach good . They fight book called a ler intolerates. ;h we call im- p side by side in Coliiigwood, h pavages, and bad exanipleg ndians. 1 don't b, said : 'Now so well afore, have put it in ;h ; but I actilly iied, for it came bt ahead, for if you must whip Dm through, for 't start the load lit right ahead) car) and Aunt more resarved lightin' of Ui)' Ik of Sophy and to man, face to iTndian looks at AS were inade by lint of liis visit to |te de la r61igion. riginaircs du pais ;u excogiter. Et le scandale t ces chacun jour nu peuple d' Israel. paradis des Hes- CHAPTER XX. AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. The first thing T did when I went to my bod-room was to pack ufi my thii.gs. 7 iirrrr draw on to-morrow. If is like ontiripatm' one's income and ma kin* the future hear the expenses of the past. When a thing is done, it is off your mind. To carry care to bed it to sleep with a, pack on your hack. That's my logic, as the pilot sais. Well, when thf.t was done, I hops into bed, and n.tv/, suis I to myself, Sam, s'posin* as wo are alone here, and it aint overly late, we have a liUle quiet talk together. What do you tliink of to-day's work ? Well, I think it is about as pleasant a day as I evbr passed in my life. As for Sophy, she is splendiferous, and no mistake. I guess I'm in for it this hitch. Well, sais I agin, aint she prudish, or cold, or calculafin' or some- thin* or another of that sort ; aint there a little grain of Aunt Thank- ful's starch in her. S'posin' we run over the events as they oeeurred, and consider them separate, and then put tiie pa;'ts all together, and Bee how they work. Well, I goes over all in my mind, till I throws the line over the brook, to give little Jemmy his first lesson, and gets the first trout, and the pull he gave jerked my hand off my eyes, and I was asleep in a minute as fast as a pine-stump. A little afore day I wakes up, and rubs my eyes, and I thought I hecred some one a movin', sq says I, steward, how is her head ? But steward didn't answer, so I answered for him : Pretty well I thank you, Sir. How is yourn ? And that made mc laugh j but still I was a little bewildered. I thought I was on board the * Blaek Hawk ;' but I stretched out my leg first on one side and then on the other, and found I was in bed. Yes, sais I, a-bed, that's sartain ; but where? Oh, I have it! at Squire Collingwood's. Why, Sam, sais I, it aint possible you are in love, when even the thought of dear Sophy couldn't keep you awake for half an hour. But I am tho', that's a fact. Oh dear, what liDnsense people talk about lovCj^ don't they? Sleepless nights — Iwiken dreams — beatiu' hearts — pale faces — a piniu' away to shadera —fits of absence — loss of appetite — narvous fiutterin's, and all that. I haven't got the symptoms, but I'll swear to the disease. Folks take this talk, I guess, from poets ; and they arc miserable, niooaey sort of critters, half mad and whole lazy, who would rather 204 AUNT THANKFUL AND II EU ROOM. take a daj's droam than a day's work any time, and catch rhymes as nisjtfTors catch flies, to pas-^ time — Ivarts and darts, cupid and stupid, purlin' streams and pulin' dreams, and so on. It's all bunkum! Spooney looks and ppooney words may do for schoolboys and semi- nary galls J but for a man like nic, and an angcliferons critter like Sophy, love must be like electricity — eye for eye, and heart for heart, telegrnphcd backwards and forwards like 'iled lightnin'. Well, sais ! to myself, confound the thing, Sam, you didn't mnko no great headway nuther, did you, tho'' you did go it pretty strong? Thinks I again, you haven't had no great experience in these matters, Sam, and that's just where you made the mistake. You went at it too strong. Courtin' a gal!, I guess, is like catchin' a young horse in the pastur'. You put the oats in a pan, hide the halter, and soft- eawder the critter, and it comes up softly and shyly at first, and puts its nose to the grain, and get's a taste, stands off and munches a little, looks round to see that the coast is clear, and advances cautious again, ready for a go.if you are rough. Well, you soft-sawder it all the time : — so-so, pet ! gently, pet ! that's a pretty doll ! and it gets to kind a like it, and comes closer, and you think you have it, nnike a grab at its njane> and it ups head and tail, snorts, wheels short round, lets go both hind-feet at you, and off like a shot. That comes of being in a hurry. Now, if you had put your hand up slowly towards its shoulder, and felt along the neck for the mane, it might perhaps have drawed away, as much as to say, hands off, if you please; I like your oats, but I don't want you, the chance is you would have caught it. Well, what's your play now you have missed it? Why, 3'ou don't give chase, for that only scares a critter; but you stand still, shake the oats in the pan, and say, cope, cope, cope ! and it stops, looks at you, and comes up again, but awful skittish, stretches its neck out ever so far, steals a few grains, and then keeps a respectful distance. Now what do you do then? Why, shake the pan, and move slowly, as if you were goia' to leave the pastur and make fur hum ; when it repents of beia' so distrustful, comes up, and you slips the halter on. Now more nor half of all that work is lost by bein' in too big a hurry. That's just the case with Sophy. You showed her the bai- ter too soon, and it skeered her. I see it all now, as plain as a new floor-board, sais I. It stands to natur. Put one strange horse in a pastur, and another in the next one, and arter a while they will go to the fence, and like as not, when they look over at each other, snap and bite as. cross as anything, as much as to say, you keep your side and I'll keep mine. 1 never saw you before, and I don't like your looks. Arter an hour or so, they will go and look at each other agin ; and that time they won't biJe^ but they breathe together, and rub their heads together, and at last do the friendly by brushin' the fiioo from each other's neck Arter that, there is a treaty of peace AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. 205 pigned, and they turn to and knock the fence down, (for it is very lonely to foed in a fi(!ld by onosnlf), and go wanderin* about showin* each o'Jier the bo.st grass. Yes, Sophy, I see where I missed a Ilgure ; and if I remain of the same mind as I am now, see if I don't slip the halter round your nock before you know where you be. Or say I can't catch a hoss or a gall, that's all. But I must bo a movin' now, so as not to disturb folks. So I lights the candle, and goes down softly to the front entry, and puts down my traps to bo sent for; and just as I was a goin' to open the door, the black house-help, Hose, comes from the other end of the buildin', and says, " This way, pl(;ase, Master Slick. Marra Thank- ful will be here in a few minutes, and hopes you will sit down in this room till she comes;" and closin' the door on me, vanished. There was a small wood-tire burnin' in the chimney, and two lighted caudles stood on one of the tables, so that everything was as clear as noonday. Oh, Jerusalem! sais I, what in creation is all this? Ilore is a room, that looks ns if it must have been cut out of the old family house in New York State, au'l fetched down, holus bolus, as it stood; for there aint anything hardly in it as new as herself, and she is scveuty years old, if she is a day. Note it all down for your journal, for sister Sal ; for though you have seen most of these things as odds and ends, you never saw them all brought together before, and never will a;.rain. So I up and at it. I paced the floor ; it was twenty-two by twenty. The carpet was a s((uaro of dark cloth, uut so large as the whole floor, and instead of a pattern, had difFcroiit colored pieces on it, cut out in the shape of birds and boasts, and secured and edged with variegated worsted in chain-stitch. In one corner stood an old-fashioned eight-day clock, in a black oak case, with enormous gilt binges. In the oppo- site one was a closet, made angular to fit the shape of the wall, with a glass front, to preserve and exhibit largo silver tankards; Dutch wine-glasses, very high in the stem, mad* of blue glass, with mugs to matuh, vJchly gilt, though showin' marks of wear, as well as age; a very old China bowl, and so on. In one of the deep recesses formed by the chimbly stood an old spinet, tho voice of which probably was cracked before that of its mistress, and, like her, had forgot its music. In the other was a lualiogany bureau, wish numerous drawers, growin' gradually less and less in depth and size, till it nearly reached the ceilin', and ter- niinatin' in a cone, surmounted by a gilt parrot; not a bad emblem till- i\, cliutty old lady bird, who is apt to repeat over and over the 8;iiue thing. The jambs of the lire-place, which was very capacious, were orna- mented with bright glazed tiles, bavin' landscapes, representin' wind- liiiiis, summe. houses in swamps, canal boats, in which you could see Eothiu' but tobacco-pipes for the smoke, and other Dutch opukni 18 WBBBBi 206 AUNT THANKFUL AND II ER ROOM, " liiH luxuries painted on them. On one side of these were suspended a very long toastin'-fork and a pair of bellows; and on the other u worked kettle-holder, an almanac, and a duster mudo of the wing of a bird. The mantel-piece, which was high, was set off with a cocoa-nut bowl, carved, polished, and supported by three silver feet; an ostrich egg, and a little antique China tea-pot, about as large as a sizable cup. Two large high brass dog-irons, surmounted by hollow balls, supported the fire. The chairs were of mahogany, high and rather straight in the back, which had open cross bar-work. Two of these were arm-chairs, on one of which (Aunt Thankful's own) hung a patch-work bag, from which long knittin'-needles and a substantial yarn-stockin' protruded. All had cushions of crimson cloth, worked with various patterns, and edged with chain-stitch, and intended to match the curtains, which were similar. There was no table in the centre of the room, and but two in it, which were much higher than modern ones, with several little spindly legs to each, makin' up in number what they wanted in size. On the largest stood two old- fashioned cases, with the covers thrown back to exhibit the silver- handled knives, which rose tier above tier, like powdered heads in a theatre, that all might be seen. Beside them was a silver filigree tea-caddy. On the smaller table, stood a little hand-bell and a large family Bible with enormous clasps, a Prayer-book, and the " Whole Duty of Man." It was a funny idea that too. I took it for granted it was a receipt-book, or a family medicine-book, or a cookery-book, or a female book of some sort or another; but no — it was the " Wholn Duty of Man !" Ah, Aunt Thankful! confess now, warn't there a little curiosity in you to find out what the " Wiiolc Duty of Man" was? AYell, they don't do their duty, or one of them would a gone down on his marrow-bones, and begged the honor of your hand, long and long ago; and they never will do their duty. But you will be here be- fore I have half-finished my inventory; and Sally will scold if I don't tell her about the walls, and say I haven't done m?/ diiti/. Well, between the winders was a very large lo«kin'-glass, in an old dark, carved mahogany frame ; a yellow sampler, with the letters of the alphabet; a moral lesson, " lie member thy Creator in the days of thy youth," and the name of the artist, " Thankful ColHng- wood, 1790, aged ten years," worked on it; and a similar one, con- tainin' a family coat-of-arms, executed on the same material, and by the same hand, though at a later date, were substantially framed, and protected by glass. Two portraits of military men, in oils, re- markably well painted, completed the collection ; each of which wag decorated with long peacock's feathers. Now, Sally, that's Aunt Thnnkful's room ; and I am thankful 1 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. 207 am thankful I have finished it. But, stop — what the plagie does she want with nie? Is she an envoy extraordinary, as we say, to the Court of St. James's, from Sophy to declare non-intercourse ? I guess not. Sho has spunk enough to do that herself, if she wanted; or from Mary, about Mr, Hopewell's church ? She knows she has only to ask me for it herself to get it, or anythiu' I have. From herself? Oh, the devil ! said I : no, that can't be. I am sure the " Whole Duty of Man" is agin' marryin' your grandmother. I know Mr. Hopewell told me it was agin the law ; but whether he said canon law, civil law, ecclesiastical law, Levitical law, law of England, or the United States' law, hang me, if I don't disremember; for I never intended to do it, so I forget where he said lo look for it. I have got it, said I : she thinks it aint suitable for the young ladies to go to Slickvilk without her. Well, prhaps it is agin the ''whole duty of woman,' and I'll ask the good old soul too. Poor Aunt Thankful ! it's others ought to be thankful to 3'ou, that's a fact, for your post aint easy. We uncles and aunts have enough to do. Uncle pays for all, and aunt works for all. The children don't mind you like a mother, and the servants don't obey j'ou like the rael head of the house nother. Is there one of the party to stay to home ? it's aunt. Is there any one to get up early, and to be the last to lock doors, and to look to fires ? it's aunty. Is there company to home, who takes charge of the house ? Why aunty to be sure. If you haven't got money enough for w'hat you want, there is some doubloons still left in the eend of Aunt Thank- ful's stockin'. You didn't return the last three you borrowed; but coax her, she is so good-natured au4 so kind. Get her to tell that Btory about Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, and her eyes, and say, well, aunt, they must have been beautiful, for they are still so hand- some; how near you came being the Duchess of Kent (that's the soft spot, with three tender places in it, first to be married, second to be a duchess, atid third to be the mother of a queen) ; go right on without stoppiu'. Aunty, if you would lend me just one doub- loon? you shall have it again soon. Ah! you rogue, you didn't pay the last three you got. I'll trust you this once though, but mind, I never will again. There now, mind it's the last time. Then aunty dear, if you have some disagreeable things to do and to bear — who hasn't? Oh! you have some such pleasant duties, that I envy you. The family hospital is under your sole command, scarlet-fever, hoopin'-cough, measles, chilblains, sore throats, and consumption — not all at once, and then ever so much of it that you get tired, but one at a time, with spaces between to keep up the in- tevnst — and the blisters, no one can handle like you, and you do make such lovely poultices, and sweet salves, and are such a grand hand at a scald, a burn, a cut, or a shot-wound. 1 1 ^ww 208 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. I 'i 'I m " Well, there's no use a talkin' about it," gais I, speakin' aloud " I do love her !" The door (ipcncd; and thore stood Aunt Thankful. She paused a moment cdiil'uHcd-like. That avowal of mine puzzled hor. 3Iy ! if she wasn't ajiic-tur' ! She was tall, thin, and fair. Her forehead, which made up in height what it was deficient in breadth, was some- what disfigured, by havin' the hair cut across the middle. The rest, rather grizzled than grey, was parted, and partly concealed by a mob- cap of stiffened muslin, high in the crown, with lappets extendin' to the shoulder, and secured by a black-silk fillet, round the head. The only ornaments I could see were a pair of short ear-rings, and a necklace or string of gold beads round the throat. She had on a white dimity, high-bodied, short gown, extendin' a little below the hips, and enclosin' a beautifully-starched, clear, white handkerchief, and fastened by a girdle of white-cotton cord, terminatin' in two tassels pendant in front. To this was attached, on the right side, a large steel bunch of snap-rings; the uppermost supported a thick, clumsy-lookin' gold watch, of antique manufac- ture, the face, for security, restiu' agin her person, and the wrought back exhibitin' no design, but much labour and skill, resembling somewhat brain-stone tracery. From another was suspended, by a long ribbon, a pair of scissors in a steel-case, and a red cloth pin- cushion, and from the rest, keys of various sizes. The sleeves of the gown were loose, reached a little below the elbow, and terminated in long, grtfy, kid mitts, coverin' half the hand, the lower part bein' so fashioned as to turn backwards towards the wrist in a point. The petticoat was made of shiny black shal- loon, rather short, and exhibitin' to advantage a small foot in a high- heeled shoe of the same material, and a neat ancle incased in a white cotton stockin', with open clocks. Such was Aunt Thankful. She looked round puzzled-like, to see if I was a talkin' to any one in the room, or was addressin' her, and at last courtseyin' advanced, and shook hands with me. "I could not think, Mr. Slick," she said, "of lettin' you go away without a cup of tea, and as I am an early riser, I thought you wouldu't object to takin' it with an old woman like me, even if the young ladies were not present ?" Takin' one of the candles, and proceedin' to the closet, she took up one of the gilt glasses, and unfoldin' a napkin, and carefully wipin' it, she poured out a glass of pale yaller liquor. '.' Take this, Mr. Slick," she said, " it is some bitters I made myself. It is a wholesome thing on this foggy coast before break- fast, and promotes appetite." Well, in a gineral way my twist is considerable. Pharaoh's lean kine are a caution to sinners in the eatiu' line, and my appetite don't wan't provokin' ; but anythin' a lady makes herself you must take; M. peakin' aloud She paused a hor. My ! if Her forehead, dth, was some- ile. The rest, laled by a mob- ;t8 extendin' to lund the head, ear-rings, and a wn, extendin' a •starched, clear, lite-cotton cord, s was attached, ; the uppermost itique manufuc- ind the wrought ;kill, resembling suspended, by a a red cloth pin- I little below the ioverin' half the ickwards towards ihiny black shal- 11 foot in a high- icased in a white zzled-like, to see Idressin' her, and \e. \>i lettin' you go n; I thought you like me, even if lloset, she took up carefully wipin' bitters I niade ist before break- Pharaoh's lean [iiy appetite don't ' you must take; AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM. 209 tact is, I never could swaller physic unless a woman gave it to me. It aint civil to refuse, so I took the glass, held it up to the light, and it was as clear as racked cider. "Well," said I, with a very admirin' smile, "you do look beau- tiful and your complexion is as clear as a bell." « Oh Mr. Slick \" said she. I thought I should have busted; I was a takin* of the liquor, and she was a-thinkin' of herself. I wonder what is the age a fem- inine gives over vanity, or gives up hopes. I'll ask Professor Sill^- man, who is a great nateral philosopher, to tell me this fact about siUi/ women j and if he can't, perhaps Cardinal irtse-raan can, for old galls have to confess their, weaknesses as well as young ones. " Madam," says I " my sarvice to you," and I made her a low bow, and tossed it off. Lord, if it warnt bitter, then there are no snakes in Virginny. It was strong enough to pucker the mouth of an aligator; so he couldn't open it without usin' cod -liver oil. "Oh that is grand !" said I. "I am glad you like it," said she, "and I'll give you a receipt." How strange it is, 710 created critter wants to learn, hut every one wants to instruct. The yrand secret of life is to hear lessons, and not to tedch them. Who the plague ever liked a schoolmaster ? Vanity, vanity ! all is vanity, says the preacher ! Well, that text aint read right in general. Ministers discourse on it as if all worldly things were of no use. The rael meanin' of it is " the vanity of fools is the wisdom of the wise." Poor thing! she didn't know that, but I did. Says she, I'll give you a receipt. " Thank you, Madam," said I, " and when I come here on my return, I shall be most grateful ; but I am afeard I must be a movin', I am skeered, lest I should wake the folks up." She rang her little silver bell, and in came Rose with the break- fast-tray, containin' the teapot — the tiniest I ever seen — It wouldn't hold a good-sizeable glass of grog, sugar-bowl and cream-jug of tho same dimensions, a plate of buttered toast cut into squares two inch- es long, aud piled up like a high chimney, and two little dishes of presarves. Thinks I, old lady, it was worth while to make a feller swaller bitteid 10 get an appetite for all this, warnt it ? "Will you try a little quince. Sir? it is some I preserved myself." " Quince, is it 1" said I^ " the best flavour to my mind of any that is made. Dear me," sals I, " how tender, it's delicious, that's u fact. It's easy to see who prepared it." "I am glad you like it, Sir. The great secret is to pulverize tho i'oaf-sugar complete before it is put on the fruit, or the scum won't rise well, and to cover the quinces when bilin', if you want them to have a beautiful colour." "So I've heard mother say," sais I, "and she was a grand hand 18* : If I'fUiW 11 lii'l as i'E':! JL'' 210 AUNT THANKFUL AND HER ROOM at all kiuds of presarving. I've heerd her say, when she wanted anythiu' super-superior, she clarified the syrups first, and actilly filtered the water." " Why, iMr. Slick," said she, " how on airth do you pick up all them things ? If I was a young lady, I should be amost afeard you knew too much, so as to make you too particular. Know how to preserve quinces? Well, I want to know !" " Yes," sais I, " and liow to eat them too, when they are prepared by Madame Thankful. Mother couldn't hold a candle to you." ^'Well, I must say," she said, "I do rather pride myself on my quinces. I'll tell you how I learned the secret of it. You didn't know Prince Edward, who was made Duke of Kent, tho' why I never could understand ; for Princes always seemed bigger than dukes to me ? No, no ! you couldn't have know'd him. Well, he was very fond of presarved quinces, and Mrs Finley, a friend of Lady Wentworth's (that was the Governor's lady) used to prepare them with her own hands, in the way she learned to New Hampshire — for she, as well as Sir John, came from that colony to Nova Scotia. I was on a visit to Government House then, and Mrs. ?inley said, * Thankful I am goin' to preserve some New York quinces to-day for his Royal Highness, come and help me, and I will let you into the mysteries of confections.' " ' What ! do king's sons like quinces?' said I. " ' Yes, and kisses too, dear !' "'Oh, Mrs. Finley,' said I, 'how you do talk.' "Well, that's the way I larned how to do them so nice." Thinks I to myself, " Old lady, which do you mean ?" but 1 didn't say so, all I said was, " Quinces and kisses will always go •together in my mind hereafter !" "Oh, Mr. Slick!" said she, "how you do go on. You talk just as Mrs. Finley did. Ah me ! that was the last time I ever was in Halifax. The evcnin' of that very day we was all at the Prince's Lodge, to a ball there. Little did I think I was a-talkin' to the father of the future Queen of England ! ' Miss Collingwood,' sais ho, 'you don't seem in your usual spirits to-night.' " ' Please your Pioyal — ' " It was evidently a stereotyped story, all ready to bind up in any work, and as there was somethin' in it the young ladies didn't want me to hear (for the night afore she got on the same subject, and they drew her off from it), i cut in, " Is either of those pictures a portrait of him?" said L " Yes," said she, takin' up a candle, and pointin' to one of them, "that is his lloyal Highness Prince Edward. Aint ho a noble- lookin' man ? He presented it to papa, who was very fond of him, and always said he was an excellent officer." And then, turniu' tc tlrother : ' Frederick,' sais I, ' where in the world did Mr. Slick pick up so many curious stories, nnd so many odd things and odd subjects, I wonder ? ' " ' From odd people,' said he, ' like himself " "Well," said. I, "nothiu' would give me greater pleasure than to arrange them papers for publication for you, and to have them printed free of expense, for I know all the publishers." " Why, Mr. Slick," said she, " would you, indeed ? " " Only too happy," siiid T. " And you will give me b jk the originals afterwards?" " Certainly, and as many copies of the book as you desire." " 'Tis yours, Sir, and hero is the key; and I am greatly indebted to you. But Mr. Slick," she added, " if there be anythin' in them that his Royal Highness the Prince, or my father wouldn't approve of, if livin', or that don't convene to me — you understand." "Exactly," sais I. "Wide awake — up to snuff. Talkin' of snuff, could you fa v or me with a pinch ? I think I saw a box ou the mantel-piece ? " 1 did this to see if she took any ou the sly j and findin' she did, thought of a prescut to send to her. " Good-bye, Madam," said I. " I thank you kindly for all your polite attentions, and must now say adieu ; for," and I opened the curtain, " there is the first gray streak of dawn j" and takin' her hand in both mine, bent down respectfully over it, and touched it with my lips. Then puttin' the box under my arm, proceeded to the door, Vhere I gave it to Rose, takin' the gun and fishin'-rod instead, and proceeded to the beach. When I got out on the lawn, I could not help thinkiu' how many onexpected events had taken place in this short visit ! What little accidental circumstances sometimes change the whole current of a man's life ! Was it an ill wind, or a lucky chance that took me to Jordan lliver ? What course shall I take ? Adopt dear old Minis- ter's rule in similar cases, " Sanif think well before you decide ' act on your own calm, deliberate judgment, and not your impulses ; \ud feave the issue with Him zoho can alone direct it,'* I. A SINGLE IDEA. 213 3 the inusty, gratitu'lf in ficcr as your Qce's nietnory •ederick,' sais urious Rtories, jasure than to to have them It ds?" ^' desire." rcatly indebted ythin' in them >uldn't approve ■stand." if. Talkin' of I saw a box on findin' she did, ladam," said I. 1, and must now s the first gray line, bent down rbeu puttin' the [gave it to Bose, to the beach, ikiu' how many .t ! What little flo current of a that took me to dear old Minis- Wou decide ' ad impulses} vid CHAPTER XXI. A SINGLE IDEA. Poor Aunt Thankful had lived on a single idea for nearly half a century. Sixteen thousand five hundred successive days appeared to her but as one day, and sixteen thousand five hundred successive nights but as one long night. It was but yesterday she assisted in, preservin' quincos for the Prince, and only last ovenin' that he promenaded with her on his arm, and complimented her on her beautiful eyes. That one idea was ever uppermost in her mind, that charmin' scene ever before her eyes. Often as she sat in her arm-chair, alone by the fin; kiiittin', would she wander in imagination over the beau- tiful grounds of the Lodge, rest in one of the pretty little Pagoda summer-houses, listen to the tinklin' of the tiny bells as they waved in the wind, or look out on the wide-spread basin, dotted here and there with pleasure-boats, from which rose the merry peal of laughter, o"r in the lone hour of night — for it aint every one that makes one solid nap of it as I do — wake to the recollection of that fine manly figure, and hear that clear commandin' voice say, " I assure you, Miss Collingwood, there has been no execution to-day^ but what has been effected -by your beautiful eyes." Sweeter far than quinco syrup to the palate was that flattcrin' unction to the mind. If you could but see her face then ; but you aint an owl, and can't see in the dark; but supposin' you could, wouldn't you see a dreamy smile come over it, for Aunty feels good all over. One little long-drawn sigh, not much louder than a baby's, and she is off to sleep agin ; and then comes a dream of speculation, that she don't indulge in when awake — she has too much sense fur that. " Sposin'," sais the dreamer, " papa had loft me a little longer at Govt'rnment House, and his Iloyal Highness had got his papa's consent for the American beauty, -m they called me. A Duchess is such a pretty title — the mother of a queen, perhaps a king — wouldn't I be thankful then ? I wonder if the Duchess's eyes are as hand.sonie as mine are, I don't believe it." Nor I either, Auntv, or auv Duchess in the queendom. "Oh! that horrid cock! I wish it wouldn't crow so loud under my window. If he hasn't waked mo up I declare, and cow it is time to get up, and call up Sophy and Mary." If that aint bein' happy, it's plaguy near it. But it aint au overly sage thing to have only one idea in life. Folks want two ideas in a general way, like two eyes^ two hands, and two feet, so 214 A SINGLE IDEA makes me sick. I can't boar the smell of it even grease. Oh ! I couldn't stand my own joke about thyt Wej that if you lose one, you can fall back on the other. Many a young lady has but one idea — a sort of trade wind one, that always blows one way — that a man of rank, or her lookin'-glass, or hor foolish old mother, or her own vanity, has put into hor head that she is an amaziu' handsome gall. And she aint a bad-lookin' heifer neither, that's a fact. Well, she flirts with this one and that one, plays one off agin another, keeps 'cm on hand like till a better one comes, and cracks hearts like hickory nuts. Well, the men get tired of flirtin', drop off one by one, and get married, and the better one that she has been waitiu' fur so long, don't come; and she opens her eyes some fine day, and says: " Hullo ! what in natur is all this ? As I'm a livin' dinner, hero are grey hairs in my head ! and I haven't so much as I used to have; it's actilly gettin' thin ! See how the comb fetches it out too 1 I must see to this. I'll use neat's foot oil. Phew ! the very idea 11, bear's I fairly plagued old Miss Bantam out of hor wits, by telling her it would bring out fur instead of hair, and she would have, a bear-skin. I wish now I hadn't made that foolish speech, for bear's grease aint bad, that's a fact. Well, there is tricopherus, how will that do? It's a very hard word to })ronounce, and there is no rememberin' it; but them things aint to be talked of. ]Jut oh ! my gracious ! I never had my glass arranged this way before. I did it to examin' my hair. But what on airth are them little squares on the fore- head ? Wrinkles! Nonsense, they can't be. You. arc only — let's see how old you arc. Take twenty from fifty-two, and that leaves thirty-two, and two years I stood still at twenty-five, makes thirty- four. People oughtn't to count that way after twenty-five, for thj years run twice as quick tlien as before. I'll try to cipher it that way. Twenty-five from thirty-four, leaves nine — half of nine is four and a half— twenty-five and four and a half makes twenty-nine and a half — that is my age exactly. I thought there must be some mistake. Now let's examine them little squares agin — wrinkles sproutin' up as sure as dog days. How strange, and nie only twenty-nine and u half years old ! i must take care how I sit in the light. Self- examination that the parsons recommends so strongly may be a very good thing, but it aint a very pleasant one. But go through with it uow you are at it. How are the teeth i* \Vhy what has come over me ? I never noticed them little specks before ! Shockin' bad state ! — some must come out and others go in. I declare my heart's broke ! So she rings the bell, orders breakfast in bed, and don't get up again that day, and sends word to her mother she has a slight head- nche, and will darken her room, and try to go to sleep. All that A SINGLE IDEA 215 y a young iTuya blows foolish old she is an er neither, ;, plays one conies, and ne, and get for so long, and suys: thinner, hero sed to have ; out too 1 I 10 very idea Well, bear's at. I fairly her it would )ear-skin. I i grease aint mU that do? nemberin' it; r gracious! 1 it to examin* on the fore- ■c only — let's that leaves nukes thirty- |y-live, for tV.j lipher it that If of nine is s twenty-nine .ust be some Lies sproutin' enty-nine and light. Self- liay be a very Irough with it Las come over IShockin' bad (re my heart's don't get up [i slight head- , AH that •o«x»*^« of haviii' only one idea, and wearin* that till it begins to giv6 out from long use. And I have an idea that gill will either die a «iour old maid, or have to take a crooked stick for a husband at last. I'll bet six cents I can tell the name of the wine she'll take in ^rinkin'. It will be Trymanner and Strum ph wine. Try manner is so awful sour, it takes three people to get it down. One is laid flat on the table, a second holds the hands down, and the third pours it into the mouth. -Strumph is stoekin' wine, for it is so a.string(>nt, if you pou; it into a stoekin' that has a hole in it, it will pucker up BO, it won't require no darnin' or mendin'. Yes, that will be her fate, l^fovv there was a great diflbrence between her and Aunt Thanl^ful Aunty had but one idea, but she knew the consequence, and wouldn't give it up but with her life. The other critter had but one also, and didn't know the consequence of bavin' sucli an artful domestic obout her toilet-table as vanity, till she missed the roses on her cheek. Well, that one idea aint confined to women. Many a man has it, and fancies he is a very killin' feller, and never doubts it in the least, tho' he gets pretty broad hints, now and then, to get another idea into his head. The galls are absent when he talks to them (that he puts down to bad manners, and ho don't think they are as well bred as they used to be), and the old ladies take to patronizin* him strangely, but they are of tho old school, and always was perlite. Well, one night at a ball, a stoutish woman, remarkably good- lookin' for her ago, and with a face beamin' with delight and eyes sparklin' with joy, leanin' on the arm of an active, athletic young man— a leftenant in the navy — who, in spite of the ugly navy uni- form, looks better than any one else there, slowly promenades up the room as if proud of her escort, and looks up into his face as if she had no eyes for any one but him. Says single-idead bachelor: "I don't like & ha public exhibition of flirtiu'. Such admiration in public aint hardly decent." The sooner you leave this station, young man, the better for that silly woman, and you too. Perhaps you don't know her husband is livin', aud a dead shot, too — snuff a can- dle at twenty paces with a ball without so much as flickerin' the light. Well, it will make promotion, at any rate. When the lady stops, and calls the one-idead, but many-wrinkled baclielor to her, who bows like an old monkey, his chin stickin' out in front, and his coat- tails behind. ''Mr. Bachelor, allow me to introduce my son to you — Lieutenant Tiller, of the navy. He has just returned from Rangoon, where, I iuu haf py to say, he distinguished himself, and has been appointed flag-' ivu tenant to Admiral Sir John Growler, on board the 'Bull II •210 A SINGLE IDEA, Bachelor bows, makes civil speeches to both, hopes ho Bhall see a good deal of him, iirid returns to a comer and roflocts. "I'd as soon see tin; devil as that sea fiarpent," he sais to liimself. *< He makes mo fed old. Flag-licutcnant to the udiiiiral ! I am glad of it J you will lead the life of a dog. They shouldn't have Hcnt you to sea. You have outgrown your strength, and are too tall for bctween-dccks. I8 it possible, this mcment')-mori i" the son of little Mary Dawson, or that little Mary ]):iwj like a gazelle than any thin'' else, is fat Mrs. Tiller, She don't take care of herself. They married her too early, and that plays the devil with women ; and she looks as if she drank brown stout at Juncli. She can't be so old either. It is only the other day I was called to the bar, and I recollect that year I lifted her into a cherry-tree to gather fruit, when she show'd such a foot and ankle, and perhaps a few inches more, as never mortal man beheld. Poor thing! she has fed coarsely since then, and vealed her calf, I stxppose I What a pity it is women don't take care of themselves, for they don't wear as well as we men do in a general way. Still, confound it ! it docs make me feel old, too !" Well, so you are old ! The crows' feet at the corners of your eyes are as large as the prints they leave in the {;and, when, like you, they are a feedin' on what the tide has loft of the wracks of the dead. You are too old to marry now. Adopt that handsome Icftenant, and leave him your monev. "What I me?" "Yes, you." • «':/ forward and made way for. Assump' tion has the door shui /;■ ':.;faee. If you really have an old name, and belong to an old family, do somethin' to show the value of it. JOrau ?',,• a dog that everybody hatr.<, hut nobody fears, for he only hoiv-icows; but he ioahr>^ up detraction, and he is a damjerous critter, for lie bi(''s wilhont barl'in*. In society oue-idead men are awful bore:'. London is chock full of them, as my fruit-treos to Slickville used to be of an insect of 1ft -iCp-r^r Ifiii^ i*. a I *^ I 1' I I £ 1 218 A SINGLE IDEA. that name, till I larned how to get rid of them. Vou will get near a nninj/ at table who can't talk about anjthiu' but iVi'ncvah, till you think he must have been dug up there. Another fellow is mad aftei mummies; if he was only dummy or mummy himself, it wouldn't be so bad, but his tongue runs like a mill race, ftis hair smells of the horrid embalmin' s. aff which he has been analyzin', and at first you think spontaneous combustion has commenced. The only way is to make fun of him, and shut him up. " Great prize to-day, Mr. Slick ; I got one of Pharer's darters." " What's the colour !" " Deep claret." "She wasn't a Fair-rr's darter then, but a darJcic's gall?" lie don't take at first, for the pun aint so plain as a hyrogriphic, bO on he goes. " A beautiful specimen, Sir." "Thin?" " Rather so." " Then she was one of Pharaoh's lean kine ?" He stares at that. "Aint you afraid of infeetion," sais I, "a handlin' the gall that way?" " No, not at all." "I wouldn't touch her on no account," sais I; "for she must have been one of the pla(/nes of Egypt. I guess she must be wuss than the canister meat government sent to the North Pole, and that vras so bad it poisoned the foxes. I have an idea the Egyptians were cannibals, and these bodies were those of their captives, who wero killed, spiced, baked, and put away for feasts. Did you ever tasto one to see if it had been cooked?" That shuts him up. He turns to his next neighbour, and earwigs Lim by ilio hour. Another critter is mad on church architecture. I had no iilea of being crammed myself, so I turn to and crams him. He squares round to you, his eye lights up, and he is all ijnimation. " Are you fond of church architecter, Mr. Slick ? It is a beau- tiful study." I look all aghast. " Cant't bear to think of it," sais I, "much less to speak of it, since a dreadful accident happened to a friend of mine to Michigan. He thought of nothin' else but buildin' a new church, morniu', noon, and night; and after years of study and savin', and beggin', ho finished a'must a beautiful one. AVel), he no sooner urot it out of his head than he got it into his sstomacli. lie fancied he had swallerod it; all the doctors told him he wns a fool, and left him, and he re- turned the compliment and called them fools. My brother, tho doctor and I was truvellin' theie at tho time, and when he heard it, A SINGLE IDEA 219 I get near b, till you dummy or •UU3 like a which he ;ombustion . aud shut darters >> I?" lyrogriphic, the gall that or she must aust be wuss ule, aud that jyptiuus were 3S, who were u ever tasto , and earwigs architcctuve. d crams him. lU iiuimation. It is a beau- speak of it, to Michigan. orniu',nooa, 11 bfggin, ho t it out of bi9 lud SNvallered u), aud he ro- brother, tho n he heard it, ' Sam/ said he, < everybody a'most is mad in some respect or another, as you are on human nafur' and soft sawder.' " ' I'll cure him, but I must humour him. Mr. Sternhold,' sais he, ' this is a curious complaint, but I knew a case just like it. Fulton once swallowed a steamboat, and I knew several who swal- lowed a sea-serpent. I can cure you. Fortunately the church is of wood. I'll knock the pins out of the frame, take it to pieces, and have it put up again ; but the tenants fit into the mortises so tight, I must use plenty of ile to make them separate easy.' And he dark- ened the room, and gave him awful doses of castor ile. " Next week, sais he, ' T have got the doors and windows off safe and sound, and lowered the steeple to the floor.' ** Next week one side and one end were off, and the next it was all took to pieces safe and put up again. ' Says he, ' Sternhold, some wicked profane person has wished that churc' in your stomach, and the devil, who is full of tricks, helped him to his wish out of mischief. Now you must pray that it may remain where it is, but take more ile, for that church has tore you a considerable sum. When you are better, come and see jne to Charles- town.' "It cured him, but it nearly killed me to see him in that state. I can't bear to hear of church architecture since then," It choked him off. "What a strange story !" said he. Thinks I to myself^ " It's quite as strange you too should swaller that identical church yourself." It's different now in business — one grand idea of makin' money — and when you have made it, savin' it commonly succeeds in the long run. If a rich man, that has got his fortin all himself, was to divide his money into two heaps before he died, and put into one what he had made, and into the other what he had saved, in nine cases out of ten the saved heap would be the biggest. It is easier to make monei/ than to save it ; one is exertion, the other self-denial. It is harder to refuse others than yourself, for the skin is nearer than the shirt. A critter that saves, therefor', as well as makes money, must in the natur' of things eend by bein' as rich as a Jew. The one idea takes in everythin' needful for riches. Money is a thing people know by sight ; but there aint any body but your single-idea men that know its natcr; and it is lucky they don't, for there loould he nofortins '9 he made if there weren't fools to spend 'em. I knew an awful rich man to London of the name of Zimenes, the richest man there, or any where I suppose a'most : well he made it all him- self. He wanted some information from me about the States, and lie asked me to dine with him. "Mr. Slick," sais he, "could you dine as early as two? that is Qiy hour, when I dine alone in the city." h m I 220 A SINGLE IDEA. " Dino at any time," sais I. "I am used to travelliu'. Hours tcaa tini'J)'. /or man, ami not man fur hours. A critter who is a slave to A/V; viol rules if his oini liiejgcr. I am a fVeo citizen ; I (Inn't calculate to let otliei' folks fetter me, and I aint such a fool ag to fctto)' myself. When jhols make sociefi/, its rules can^t alicat/s he tcise. When a eu,d the cnor- which will interest, for seveupence er sum than ach equal to nust let off ] Heaven, hr stonishcd me I stopped, d we will let lope, and ad- lick, with Mr. wers unsatis- n here which |I am at your iinnds. "I iv part, if you Ml CHAPTER XXII. AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM. From Jordan we proceeded to Sable River, but ueuily all the in- habitants were absent at Port Jolly, where a great political meetin' was to he held, and thither we directed our course immediately. " Mr. Slick," said Eldad, "did you ever see such a beautiful schoal of mackerel in your life, as we nre now passin' through ? the water is actually alive with them. Instead of reformin' the provincial government, what a pity it is these folks wouldn't reform their h?bits; and, instead of makin' speeches, and wastin' their time, turn to and make seins, and catch the fish that Providence has sent in such immense numbers up to their very doors, leapin' out of the water to show themselves, as much as to say, come and catch us be- fore the Yankees do, for you have the best right to us, seein' the coast is yours. Were you ever up to Labrador, Mr. Slick ?" "No," saisi, "never." "Oh ! well, you can't form no notion of the fisheries, all the way up along that shore. Nothin' but seein' could give you any idea of the salmon, the cod, the mackerel, and the herriu'. My eyes ! what millions upon millions of herrin's there are there, when the spring opens." "Yes," said the Captin, "it defies the power of language almost to convey an idea of them. They remain durin' the winter up iu those icy regions, and when the weather moderates they take a tout south, as far as Carolina. The drove or herd gives them their name, for Hcer signifies an army. As soon as they start, you can trace them by the grampus, the whale, the shark, black backs, dog-fish, and porpoises, that follow in hot pursuit, while sea-fowl of all kinds hover over them, and charge on them continually. This keeps them in a compact body for safety; for how it is I can't say, but a whale never was known to ventur' into the main army, though he will cut off detachments, and takes hundreds and hundreds of them down at a gulp. Their numbers positively alter the appearance of the water sometimes, which actilly sparkles with different colours, as the rays of the sun are reflected by their scales and fins. If I was to tell you in miles how long and l)road this host is, you could scarcely credit it. After a while they divide into smaller armies, and seek their own haunts, and the quality varies accordin' to the food. Thii Bay nf Fundy detachment is of splendid quality. They are smoked, w you know, nnd sold in small boxes." '■ it 1 * 224 AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OF REFORM '^ Know," sais I, " to be sure 1 do. Why there aint uoihin' like a 'Digby chicken/ hardly anywhere. Further up the bay they are still fatter, but they don't know how to cure theni as the Digby boyg do." *' What they feed on," said Cutler, " I never could discover, for I have 'Opened them again and again, and never could perceive either animal or vegetable matter in them. And yet I know, for I have tried them, they will actually rise sometimes 'o a fly. Blowhard Bays it's a sea-flea, and spawn-like substance, that the eye can't dis- cover in water without a magnifier, that they subsist on. But oh ! Mr. Slick, the Bay of Fundy shad, aint they a glorious fish ! They are superior to what they have on the Atlantic shore, either here or in the States." " I guess they be," said I, "and far before those of the Severn to England, they brag so much of. - To my mind, they are preferable to salmon, only the everlastin' little bones are so tormeutiu', aint they? Lord, I never shall forget a grand party I was at to Canada once, in the shad season. The ball-room was got up in a hurry, and the plaister warn't quite dry; the cvenin' was hot and the winders were open, and in come a cloud of shad-flics from the St. Lawrence, that the Lord always sends before them to feed on. They stuck to the walls, and filled the ladies' dresses, choked the lights out, and then went down your nose and mouth by the hundreds. If it warn't fun, it's a pity. When we went in to supper, the floor of the dancin'- room looked like a battle-field, strewn with the dead, wounded, and dying. " Oh ! in the way of nateral wealth and actual poverty. Nova Scotia beats all natur'. The land is chock full of coal, iron, copper, freestone, asphalte, slate, gypsum, grindstones, and the Lord knows what. And the coast chock full of harbours, and tho waters chock full of fish. I say, Cutler, if we only had it, lick ! wouldn't we make a great country of it, that's all. But here we are at Port Jolly." "This is a shoal harbour, Captain," said the pilot; "we mustn't go any further in, I guess we must anchor where we be." " Mr. Slick," says one of the Sable River folks that came oflf in a boat to us, " we have had a great me<^tin' to-day, the largest I ever saw on this coast." " It was the largest," said I, " I ever saw in my life." "Oh !" said he, "you're makin' fun of us poor folks; in course, in the States you have seen an assemblage twenty times as largo." "Never," said I, "I give you my honour; and what's more, it was the richest meetin', too." " Ah ! there you are again," he replied, " but I don't see that poverty is to be laughed at." " Nor I cither," said I; " but T don't know what you call poverty. lint uoihin' like :he bay they are ! the Digby boys ,d discover, for I I perceive either know, for I have I fly. Blowhard ,he eye can't dis- ist on. But oh I rious fish ! They )re, either here or 3 of the Severn to tiey are preferable 1 tormeutiu', aint : was at to Canada Lip in a hurry, and t and the winders the St. Lawrence, in. They stuck to he lights out, and dreds. Ifitwarn'^t loor of the dancin'- lead, wounded, and :ual poverty. Nova [ coal, iron, copper, [d the Lord knows Id the waters chock lick I wouldn't we ire we are at Port )ilot ; " we mustn't we be." Is that came off in a , 1, the largest I ever ly life." lor folks; in course, f times as large." ^ Ud what's more, it it I don't see that lat you call poverty. AN EXTENSIVE PLAN OP REFORM. 22& I should say that meetin' was worth, all told, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds." "I didn't mean no offence, Sii," said lu-, "and I don't like to bo rigged that way. Will you just tell me what you arc at?" " Yes," sais I, " I will. You said you had a great meetin' to-day. Of course, at this busy season of the year, I thought you was talkin' of the mackerel shoal, which was the largest meetin' of them I ever saw. It was a mile and a half long, and more than half a mile wide, if it was an inch ; and it's time you did meet and consart measures for catchin' of them." "Well," said the man, half ashamed of himself, "perhaps it would have been as well if we had adjourned the meetin' to a more convenient time; but I am glad to hear you say the fish have struck ID, in such numbers. " Yes," sais I, "it will be a grand time for the gulls and porpoises, for I suppose uothin' else will disturb the fish amost, for spring work is come on, and the ground must be tilled, and public meetiu's are 3ome on, and representatives must be chose; and then the roads are to be repaired, and it's the only chance you have of airnin' a little ready money. You needn't hurry though," sais I "for you know there is a fall run of fish as well as a spring one, and the fall fish, in a gineral way, are the best." " You're severe on us," said he ; " but I don't know but what wo desarve it too." "Come and sit down then," sais I, "along with me, and I'll tell you a story, and comment on it as I go." " Exactly," sais he, " what they call expound." " The very thing," sais I. " It's a way of talkin' I like amazinly. The last time I was to Windsor, Nova Scotia, I met Peter Ham, an inmate of the poor-house, whom I saw crawUn' along on the ferry hill there, into the village. " 'I wish I was Governor of Nova Scotia for one day. Sir,' saia Peter; 'just for one day only, an