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32X

NATURE MD HUMAN NATURE

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NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE

THE AUTHOR OF

"SAM SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER,"

ETC. ETC.

Hominem, pagina nostra sapit.— Mabt.

Eye natures'B walks, shoot folly as It flies.

And catch the mannen living as they rise.— Fopi.

LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

^^ P5e^IS- /9^^/l/3 /f<P-

niCBARO ClAT * SONH,
BRIAD BTBBKT BILL, LONDOM,

Bungay, t^olk.

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CONTENTS.

vmArrn

I. A 8T7BPBISB •. .. .. «• ••

II. CLIFPSB8 AVD STEAUEBS . . . . . •

III. UNLOOKINO A WOMAM's HEABT . . • •

IT. A CBITTEB WITH A THOUSAND TIfiTVES AMD BUT ONE

vICB t* .. <• •• ••

V. A NEW WAT TO LEABN GAELIC

▼I. THB WOUNDS OP THE HEABT

Vn. FIDDLING AND DANCING, AND SEBVING THE DEVIL

VIII. STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE . . . «

IX. THE f LUBAL OF MOOSE . . . .

X. A DAT ON THE LAKE.— PABT I.

XI. A DAT ON THE LAKE. — PABT II. . .

Xn. THE BETBOTHAL ,. ., ,,

XIU. A FOGGT NIGHT .. .. ,«

«•••.

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.. 89

.. 63

.. 67

.. 87

.. 100

.. 114

.. 130

.. 145

.. 154

.. 166

40\\\S

CONTENTS.

■•■^.V

CHAPTKI

XIV. FEMALE COLLEGES

XV. GYPSETING

XVI. THE WORLD BEFOBE THE FLOOD

XVII. LOST AT SEA .. >»

XVIU. HOLDING UP THE MIBBO&

XIX. THE BUNDLE OF STICKS ..

XX. TOWN AND COUNTBY .. .. r,

XXI. THE HONEYMOON .,

XXIL A DISH OF CLAMS

XXIIL THE devil's HOLE; OB, HSH AND FLESH

XXIV. THE CUCUMBEK LAKE

XXV. TUB BECALL • • . .

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NATFKE AND HUMAN NATUEE

CHAPTER I.

A 8UBFBISE.

Thinks I to myself, as I overheard a person inquire of the
servant at the door, in an unmistakeable voice and tone, " Is
the Squire to hum?" that can be no one else than my old
frier d Sam Slick the Clockmaker. But it could admit of no
doubt when he proceeded, " If he is, tell him / am here."

"Whoshalllsay, Sir?"

The stranger paused a moment, and then said, " It's svJh an
everlastin' long name, I don't think you can carry it all to
wunst, and I don't want it broke in two. Tell him it's a gentle-
man that calculates to hold a protracted meeten here to-night.
Come,dc I't stand starin' there on the track, you might get run
over. Don't you htar the engtwc coming ? Shunt off now."

" Ah, my old friend," said I, advancing, and shaking him by
the hand, " how are you ? "

" As hearty as a buck," he replied, " though I can't jist jump
quite so high now."

" I knew you," I said, " the moment I heard your voice, and
if I had not recognised that, I should have known your talk."

" That's because I am a Yankee, Sir," he said, " no two of us
look alike, or talk alike ; but being free and enlightened citizens,
we jist talk as we please."

" Ah, my good friend, you always please when you talk, and
that is more than can be said of most men."

" And so will you," he replied, " if you use soft sawder that
way. Oh, dear me! it seems but the other day that you
laughed so at my theory of soft sawder and human natui*', don't
it ? They were pleasant days, warn't they ? I often think oil them,
and think of them Tvith pleasure too. As I was passing Halifax

A SURPRISE.

harbour, on my Wh/ hum in the * Black Hawk,' the wind
fortunately came ahead, and thinks I to myself, I will put in
there, and pull foot* for Winds^jr and see the Squire, give him
my Journal, and spend an hour or two with him once more. So
here I am, at least what is left of me, and dreadful glad I am to
see you too ; but as it is about your dinner hour I will go and
titivate up a bit, and then we will have a dish of chat for desert,
and cigars to remind us of by-gones, as we stroll through your
shady walks here."

My old friend had worn well ; he was still a wiry athletic
man, and his step as elastic and springy as ever. The constant
exercise he had been in the habit of taking had preserved his
health and condition, and these in their turn had enabled him
to maintain his cheerfulness and humour. The linc^ in his
face were somewhat deeper, and a few straggling grey hairs
were the only traces of the hand of time. His manner was
much improved by his intercourse with the great world ; but
his phraseology, in which he appeared to take both pride and
pleasure, was much the same as when I first knew him. So
little indeed was he changed, that I could scarcely believe so
many years had elapsed since we made our first tour together.

It was the most unexpected and agreeable visit. He en-
livened the conversation at dinner with anecdotes that were
often too much for the gravity of my servant, who once or twice
left the room to avoid explosive outbreaks of laughter. Among
others, he told me the following whimsical story.

" "When the ' Black Hawk ' was at Causeau, we happened to
have a queer original sort of man, a Nova Scotia doctor, on board,
who joined our party at Ship Harbour, for the purpose of tak-
ing a cruise with us. Not having anything above particular ';o
do, w^e left the vessel and took passage in a coaster for Prince
Edward's Island, as my commission required me to spend a da v
or two there, and inquire about the fisheries. Well, although
I don't trade now, I spekelate sometimes when I see a right
smart chance, and especially if there is fun in the trar.saction.
So, sais I, ' Doctor, I will play possum t with these folks, and
take a rise out of them, that will astonish their weak narves, /
know, while I put several hundred dollars in my pocket at the
same time." So I advertised that I would give four pounds ten

• The Americans are not entitled to the credit or ridicule, whichever
people may be disposed to bestow upon them, for the extraordinary phrases
with which their conversation is occasionally embellished. Some of them
have good classical authority. That of *' pull-foot " may be traced to Eu-
ripides, avaipojv Ik Swfiarujv Tro^d.

J The opossum, when chased by dogs, will often pretend to be dead, and
thu;9 deceives his pursuers.

A SURPRISE.

Bhilling8 for the largest Hackmetack knee in the island, four
pounds for the second, three pounds ten shillings for the third,
and three pounds for the fourth biggest one. I suppose. Squire,
vou know what a ship's knee is, don't you ? It is a crooked

i*)ieee of timber, exactly the shape of a man's leg when kneeling.
[t forms two sides of a square, and makes a grand fastening for
the side and deck beams of a vessel.

" ' AVhat in the world do you want of only four of those
knees ? ' said the Doctor.

" ' Nothing,' said I, * but to raise a laugh on these critters,
and make them pay real handsome for the joke.'

" Well, every bushwhacker and forest ranger in the island
thought he knew where to find four enormous ones, and that he
woidd go and get them, and say nothing to nobody, and all
that morning fixed for the delivery they kept coming into the
shipping place with them. People couldn't think what under
the light of the living sun was going on, for it seemed as if
every team in the province was at work, and all the country-
men were running mad on junipers. Perhaps no livin' soul
ever see such a beautiful collection of ship-timber afore, and I
am sure never will again in a crow's age. The way these * old
oysters ' (a nick-name I gave the islanders, on account of their
everlastin' beds of this shell-fish) opened their mugs and gapeA
was a caution to dying v-dlves.

"At the time appointed, there were eight hundred sticks on
the ground, the very best in the colony. AVell, I went very
gravely round and selected the four largest, and paid for them
cash down on the nail, according to contract. I'l.e goiieys seed
their fix, but didn't know how they got into it. They didn't
think bard of me, for I advertised for four stivics only, and I
(^ave a very high price for theiu ; but they did think a little mean
3f themselves, that's a fact, for each man had but four pieces,
and they were too ridiculous large for the tliimderin' small
vessels built on the island. They scratched their heads in a
way that was harrowing, even in a stubble field.

" ' My gracious,' sais I, ' hackmetacks, it seems to me, is as
thick m this country as blackberries in the Fall, after tlie
robins have left to go to sleep for the winter. AVhi' on earth
would hnvc thought there was so many here ? Oli, children of
Israel ! "What a lot there ib, ain't there ? AVhy, the father of
this island couldn't hold them all.'

"'Father of this i?land,' sais they, *who is he?'

"♦Why,' sais I, 'ain't this Prince Edward's ?'

" ' Why, yes,' sais they, looking still more puzzled.

A SURPRISE.

" * "Well/ sais I, * in the middle of Halifax harbour is King
George's Island, and that must be the father of this.'

"Well if they could see anjr wit in that speech, it is more
than I could, to save my soul ahve ; but it is the easiest thing
in the world to set a crowd off a tee-heeing. They can't help it,
for it is electrical. Oo to the circus now, and j^ou will hear a
stupid joke of the clown ; well, you are determined you won't
laugh, but somehow you can't help it no how you can fix it,
although you are mad with yourself for doing so, and you just
roar out and are as big a fool as all the rest.

" Well it made them laugh, and that was enough for me.

" Sais I, * the wust of it is, gentlemen, they are all so shock-
ing large, and there is no small ones among them ; they can't
be divided into lots, still, as you seem to be disappointed, I
wdll make you an offer for them, cash down, all hard gold.' So
I gave them a bid at a very low figure, say half nothing, * and,*
sais I, * I advise you not to take it, they are worth much more,
if a man only knows what to do with them. Some of your
traders, I make no manner of doubt, will give you twice as
much if you will only take your pay in goods, at four times
their value, and perhaps they mightent like your selling them
to a stranger, for they are all responsible government-men, and
act accordin' ' to the well understood wishes of the people.' I
shall sail iji two hours, and you can let me know ; but mind, I
can only buy all or none, for I shall have to hire a vessel to
carry them. After all,' sais I, 'perhaps we had better not
trade, for,' taking out a handful of sovereigns from my pocket,
and jingling them, ' there is no two ways about it ; these little
fellows are easier to carry by a long chalk than them great
Inmmokin' hackmetacks. Good bye, gentlemen.^

" Well, one of the critters, who was as awkward as a wrong
boot, soon calls out, *woh,' to me, so I turns and sais 'well,
"old boss," what do you want ?' At which they laughed louder
than before.

" Sais he, *we have concluded to take your offer.'

" ' Well,' sais I, ' there is no back out in me, here is your
money, the knees is mine.' So I shipped them, and had the
satisfaction to oblige them, and put two hundred and fifty
pounds in my pocket. There are three things, Squire, I like in
a spekelation : — First. A fair shake ; Second. A fair profit ;
and Third, a fair share of fun."

In the course of the afternoon, he said, " Squire, I have
brought you my Journal, for I thought when I was a startin'
off, as there were some things I should like to point out to my
old friend, it would be as well to deliver it myself and mention

.■/.

A SURPRISE.

them, for what in natur' is the good of letter writing ? In
business there is nothing like a good face to face talk. Now,
Squire, I am really what I assume to be — I am, in fact, Sam
Slick the Clockmaker, and nobody else. It is of no conse-
quence however to the world whether this is really my name
or an assumed one. If it is the first, it is a matter of some im-
portance to take care of it and defend it ; if it is a fictitious
one, it is equally so to preserve my incognito. I may not
choose to give my card, and may not desire to be known. A
satirist, like an Irishman, finas it convenient sometimes to
shoot from behind a shelter. Like him, too, he may occasion-
ally miss his shot, and firing with intent to do bodily harm is
almost as badly punished as if death had ensued. And besides,
an anonymous book has a mystery about it. Moreover, what
more right has a man to say to you, * Stand and deliver your
name,' than to say, 'Stand and fork out your purse' — I can't
see the difierence for the life of me. Hesitation betrays guilt.
If a person inquires if you are to home, the servant is directed
to say No, if you don't want to be seen, and choose to be
among the missing. Well, if a feller asks if I am the Mr
Slick, I have just as good a right to say, ' Ask about and find
out.'

"People sometimes, I actilly believe, take you for me. ]f
they do, all I have to say is they are fools not to know better,
for we neither act alike, talk alike, nor look alike, though per-
haps we may think alike on some subjects. You was bred and
bom here in Nova Scotia, and not in Connecticut, and if they
ask you where I was raised, tell them I warn't raised at all, but
was found one fine morning pinned across a clothes line, after
a heavy washing to hum. It is easy to distinguish an editor
from the author, if a reader has half an eye, and li' he hain't got
that, it's no use to ofier him spectacles, that's a fact. Now,
by trade I am a clockmaker, and by birth I have the honour to
be a Yankee. I use the word honour, Squire, a purpose, because
I know what I am talking about, which I am sorry to say is
not quite so common a thing in the world as people suppose.
The English call aU us Americans, Yankees, because they don't
know what they are talking about, and are not aware that it is
only the inhabitants of New England who can boast of that
appellation.*

• Brother Jonathan is the general term for all. It originated thus. When
Genoral Washington, after being appointed commander of tlie array of the
Eevohitionary War, came to Massachusetts to organize it, and make prepar-
ations for tlic defence of the country, he found a great wiint of ammunition
and other CK'aiis necessary to meet the poweil'dl I'oe ho had to contend with.

■^ r-

A SURPRISE.

" The southerners, who are both as proud and as sarcy as the
British, call us Eastern folk Yankees as a term of reproach,
because having no slaves, we are obliged to be our own niggers
and do our own work, which is'nt considered very genteel, and
as we are intelligent, enterprising, and skilful, and therefore
too often credi:.or8 of our more luxurious countrymen, they do
not like us the better for that, and not being Puritans them-
selves, are apt to style us sccmfully, those * d — d Yankees.'

" Now all this comes of their not knowing what they are
talking about. Even the New Englanders themselves, cute as
they be, often use the word foolishly ; for, Squire, would you
believe it, none of them, though they answer to and acknoAv-
ledge the appellation of Yankee with pride, can tell you its ori-
gin. I repeat, therefore, I have the honour to be a Yankee. I
don't mean to say that word is ' all same,' as the Indians say,
as perfection ; far from it, for we have some peculiarities com-
mon to us all. Cracking and boasting is one of these. Now
braggin' comes as natural to me as scratchin' to a Scotchman.
I am as fond of rubbing myself agin the statue of George the
Third, as he is of se-sawing his shoulders on the mile-stones of
the Duke of Argyle. Each in their way were great benefact-
ors, the one by teaching the Yankees to respect themselves,
and the other by putting his countrymen in an upright posture
of happiness. So I can join hands with the North Briton, and
bless them both. "^

" With this national and nateral infirmity therefore, is it to
be wondered at if, as my ' Sayings and Doings ' have become
more popular than you or I ever expected, that I should crack
and boast of them ? I think not. If I have a claim, my rule is
to go ahead with it. Now don't leave out my braggin'. Squire,
because you are afraid people will think it is you speaking, and
not me, or because you thmk it is bad taste as you call it. I
know what I am at, and don't go it — blind. My Journal con-
tains much for my own countrymen as well as the English, for

and great difBculty to obtain them. If attacked in such condition, the cause
at once might be hopeless. On one occasion at that anxious period, a consult-
ation of the officers and others was had, when it seemed no way could be de-
vised to make such preparations as was necessary. His Excellency Jonathan
Trumbull, the elder, was then Governor of the State of Connecticut, on whose
judgment and aid the General placed the greatest reliance, and remarked, " "We
must consult 'Brother Jonathan' on the subject." The General did so, and
the Governor was successful in supplying many of the wants of the army.
When difficulties arose, and the army was spread, over the country, it became
a by-word, " "We must consult Brother Jonathan." The term Yankee is still
applied to a portion, but '• Brother Jonathan " has now become a designation
of the whole country, as John Bull is for England.— Bartlett's American-
isms.

SIEKICAN-

A SURPRISE. 7

we expect every American abroad to sustain the reputation in
himself of our great nation.

"Now our Minister to Victoria's Court, when he made
his brag speech to the great agricultural dinner at Glou-
cester last year, d'dn't intend that for the British, but for us.
So in Congress no man in either house can speak or read an
oration more than an hour long, but he can send the whole
lockrum, includiri' what he didn't say, to the papers. One has
to brag before foreign aase mblies, the other before a Congress,
but both have an eye to the feelings of the Americans at large,
and their own constituents in particular. Now that is a trick
others know as well as we do. The Irish member from Kil-
mant/, and him from Kilmore, when he brags there never was a
murder in either, don't expect the English to believe it, for he
is availed they know better, but the brag pleases the patriots to
home, on account of its impudence.

" So the little man. Lord Bunkum, when he opens Oxford to
Jew and Gentile, and offers to make Bothschild Chancellor in-
stead of Lord Derby, and tells them old dons, the heads of col-
leges, as pdlite as a stage-driver, that he does it out of pure re-
gard to them, and only to improve the University, don't expect
them to believe it ; for he gives them a sly vnnk when he says
so, as much as to say, how are you off for Hisbrew, my old sep-
tuagenarians ? Droll boy is Rothey, for though he comes from
the land of Sam, he don't eat pork. But it pleases the sarcum-
sised Jew, and the unsarcumsised tag-rag and bobtail that are
to be admitted, and who verily do believe (for their bump of
conceit is largely developed) that they can improve the Colleges
by granting educational excursion tickets.

" So Paddy O'Shonnosey the member for Blarney, when Le
votes for smashing in the porter's lodges of that Protestant in-
stitution, and talks of Toleration and Equal Bights, and calls
the Duke of Tuscany a broth of a boy, and a light to illumine
heretical darkness, don't talk this nonsense to please the outs
or ins, for he don't care a snap of his finger for either of them,
nor because he thinks it right, for it's plain he don't, seeing that
he would fight till he'd run away before Maynooth shoidd be
sarved arter that fashion ; but he does it, because he knows it;
will please him, or them, that sent him there.

*' There are two kinds of boastin'. Squire, active and -passive.
The former belongs exclusively to my countrymen, and the lat-
ter to the British. A Yankee openly asserts and loudly pro-
claims his superiority. John Bull feels and looks it. He don't
give utterance to this conviction. He takes it for granted all
the world knows and admits it, and he is so thoroughly persuaded

A SURPRISE.

of it himself, that, to use his own favourite phra«e, he don't cnre
a fig if folks don't admit it. His vanity, therefore, has a sublim-
ity m it. He thinks, as the Italians say, ' that when nature
formed him, she broke the mould.' There never was, never can,
and never wiU be, another like him. His boastin', therefore, is
passive. He shows it and acts it ; but he don't proclaim it. He
condescends and is gracious, patronizes and talks down to you.
Let my boastin' alone theref jre, Squire, if you please. You
know what it means, what bottom it has, and whether the plaster
sticks on the right spot or not.

" So there is the first division of my subject. Now for ihe
second. But don't go off at half-cock, narvous like. I am not
like the black preacher that had forty-eleven divisions. I have
only a few more remarks to make. Well, I have observed that
in editin' my last Journal, you struck out some scores I made
under certain passages and maxims, because you thought they
were not needed, or looked vain. I know it looks consaited as
well as you do, but I know their use also. I have my own views
of things. Let them also be as I have made them. They wam't
put there for nothin'. I have a case in pint that runs on all
fours with it, as brother Josiah the lawyer used to say, and if
there was anythin' wantin' to prove that lawyers were not strait
up and d )wn in their dealings, that expression would show it.

" I was to court wunst to Slickville, when he was addressin*
of the jury. The main points of his argument he went over and
over again, till I got so tired I took up my hat and walked out.
Sais I to him, arter court was prorogued and members gone
home,

" ' Sy,' sais I, * why on airth did you repeat them arguments
80 often ? It was everlastin' yamy.'

" ' Sam,' sais he, and he gave his head a jupe, and pressed
his lips close, like a lemon-squeezer, the way lawyers always do
wh'^n they want to look wise, * when I can't drive a nail with one
hloio, I hammer away till I do git it in. Some folks' heads is as
hard as hackmetacks — you have to bore a hole in it first to put
the nail in, to keep it from bendin', and then it is as much as a
bargain if you can send it home and clinch it.'

" Now maxims and saws are the sumtotalisation of a thing.
Folks won't always add up the columns to see if they are footed
right, but show 'em the amount and result, and that they are
able to remember and carry away with thc^n. No — no, put
them Italics in, as I have always done. They show there is truth
at the bottom. I lilve it, for it's what I call sense on the short-
cards — do you talie ? Eecollect always, you are not Sam Slick,
and I am not you. The greatest compliment a Britisher would

A SURPRISE.

think he could pay you, would be to say, ' I should have taken
you for an Engtighman.' Now the ^atest compliment he can
pay me is to take me for a Connecticut Clockmaker, who hoed
his way up to the Embassy to London, and preserved so much
of his nationality, after being so long among foreigners. Let
the Italics be — you ain't answerable for them, nor my boastin*
neither. When you write a book of your own, leave out both
if you like, but as you only edit my Journal, if you leave them
out, ju8t go one step further, and leave out Sam Slick also.

" There is another thing, Squire, upon which I must make a
remark, if you will bear with me. In r last work you made
me speak purer English than you found in my Journal, and al-
tered my phraseology, or rather my dialect. Now, my dear
Nippent — "

" Nippent ! " said I, " what is that ?"

" The most endearing word in the Indian language for friend,"
he said, "only it's more comprehensive, including ally, foster-
brother, life-preserver, ahaft-norse, and everything that has a
human tie in it."

" Ah, Slick," I said, " how skilled you are in soft sawder !
You laid that trap for me on purpose, so that I might ask the
question, to enable you to throw the lavender to me."

" Dod drot that word soft sawder," said he, " I wish I had
never invented it. I can't say a civil thing to anybody now,
but he looks arch, as if he had found a mare's nest, and says,
* Ah, Slick ! none of your soft sawder now.' But, my dear nip-
pent, by that means you destroy my individuality. I cease to
be the genuine itinerant Yankee Clockmaker, and merge into
a very bad imitation. You know I am a natural character, and
always was, and act and talk naturally, and as far as I can
judge, the little alteration my sojourn in London with the
American embassy has made in my pronunciation and provin-
cialism, is by no means an improvement to my Journal. The
moment you take away my native dialect, I become the repre-
sentative of another class, and cease to be your old friend ' Sam
Slick, the Clockmaker.' Bear with me this once. Squire, and
don't tear your shirt, I beseech you, for in all probability it
mil be the last time it will be in your power to subject me to
the ordeal of criticism, and I should like, I confess, to remain
true to myself and to Nature to the last.

" On the other hand. Squire, you -will find passages in this
Journal that have neither Yankee words nor Yankee brag in
them. Now pray don't go as you did in the last, and alter them
by insarten here and there what you call ' Americanisms,' so as
to make it more in character and uniform; that is going lo

■frrr*•i'.rav;fXA*^•ff^*^^f;^•J^-»'*•'*■*'►<c^-'''^■"»'** »--^ -*••.

'*A<t ,4».-w.4)^ •» «

A SURPRISE.

t'other extreme, for I can write as pure EnpiUsh, if I can't
speak it, as anybody can.* My education wam't a collej^e one,
like my brothers, Eidad's and .Toaiah's, the doctor and lawyer ;
but it was not neglected for all that. Dear old Minister was a
scholar, every inch of him, and took great pains with me in ray
themes, letters, and composition. * Sam,' he used to say, * there
are four things needed to write well : first, master the language
grammatically ; second, master your subject ; third, write na-
turally ; fourth, let your heart as well as your hand guide the
pen.' It ain't out of keeping therefore for me to express my-
self decently in composition if I choose. It wam't out of cha-
racter with Franklin, and he was a poor printer boy, nor "Wash-
ington, and he was only a land-surveyor, and they growed to be
' some punkins ' too.

" An American clockmaker ain't like a European one. He
may not be as good a workman as t'other one, but he can do
somethin' else besides makin' wheels and pulleys. One always
looks forward to rise in the world, the other to attain excellence
in his line. I am, as I have expressed it in some part of this
Journal, not ashamed of having been a tradesman — I glory in
it ; but I should indeed have been ashamed if, with the instruc-
tion I received from dear old Minister, I had always remained
one. No, don't alter my Journal. I am just what I am, and
nothing more or less. You can't measure me by English stand-
ards ; you must take an American one, and that will give you my
length, breadth, height, and weight to a hair. If silly people
take you for me, and put my braggin' on your shoulders, why
jist say, ' You might be mistakened for a worse fellow than he is,
that's all.' Yes, yes, let my talk remain ' down-east talk,' f and
my writin' remain clear of cant terms when you find it so.

" I like Yankee words — I learned them when young. Father

• The reader will perceive from a perusal of this Journal, that Mr Slick,
who is always so ready to detect absurdity in others, has in this instance ex-
hibited a species of vanity by no means uncommon in this world. He prides
himself more on composition, to which he has but small pretensions, than on
those things for which the public is willing enough to give him full credit.
Had he however received a classical education, it may well be doubted whether
he would have been as useful or successful a man as President of Yale College,
as he has been as an itinerant practical Clockmaker.

t It must not be inferred from this expression that Mr Slick's talk is all
** pure down-east dialect." The intermixture of Americans is now so great,
in consequence of their steamers and railroads, that there is but little pure pro-
vincialism loft. They have borrowed from each other in different sections
most liberally, and not only has the vocabulary of the south and west contri-
buted its phraseology to New England, but there is recently an affectation in
consequence of the Mexican war, to naturalise Spanish words, some of which
Mr Slick, who delights in this sort of thing, has introduced into this Journal.
-Ed.

■V .^-*^W*w(*l'l»i\',V. V»C"j> '

»>i'>«»«ifV^.j«« ■''

'mW- !J4.** »-l-»«-Pi«^--

A SirilPRISE.

and mother used them, ntid so did all the olJ folks to Slickville.
There is both fim, sense, and expression in 'em too, and that is
more than th 're is in Tiitly's, Pat's, or Sawney's broj»ue either.
The one enriehes and enlarges the voeabulary, the other is
nothing but broken English, and so confoundedly broken too,
you can't put the pieces together sometimes. Again, my writing,
when I freeze down solid to it, is just as much in character as
the other. Recollect this — Every woman in our country who
has a son knows that he may, and thinks that he will, become
President of the United States, and that thought and that chance
make that boy superior to any of his class in Europe.

" And now, Squire," saii he, " I believe there has been
enough said about myself and tr.y Journal. Sposen we drink
success to the ' human nature,' or ' men and things,' or what-
ever other name you select for this Journal, and then we will
talk of something else."

"I will drink that toast," I said, "with all my heart, and
now let me ask you how you have succeeded in your mission
about the fisheries ?"

" First rate," he replied ; " we have them now, and no
mistake!"

" By the treaty ?" I inquired.

" No," he said, " I have discovered the dodge, and we shall
avail of it at once. By a recent local law foreigners can hold
real estate in this province now. And by a recent Act of Par-
liament our vessels can obtain British registers. Between
these two privileges, a man don't deserve to be called an
American who can't carry on the fisheries in spite of all the
cruisers, revenue officers, and prohibitary laws under the sun.
It is a peaceable and quiet way of getting possession, and far
better than fighting for them, while it comports more with the
dignity of our great and enlightened nation."

" What do you think," I said, " of the Elgin treaty as a
bargain ? "

After some hesitation, he looked up and smiled.

"We can't complain," said he. "As usual we have got
hold of the right eend of the rope, and got a vast deal more
than we expected. The truth is, the English are so fond of
trade, and so afraid of war, if we will only give them cotton
and flour at a fair price, and take their manufactures in return,
we can bully them into anythin' almost. It is a positive fact,
there were fifty deserters from the British army taken off" of the
wreck of the ' San Francisco,' and carried to England. John
Bull pretended to wink at it, hired a steamer, and sent them
all out again to us. Lord ! how our folks roared when they

A SURPRISE.

heard it; and an for tho President, he laughed like a hyena
over a dead ni;;ger. Law sakcs alive man I Make a question
between our nation and Endand about fifty desartera, and if
the ministers of the day only dared to talk of fighting, the
members of all the manufactoren towns in England, the cotton-
ocracy of Great Britain, would desert too!

" It's nateral, as an American, I should be satisfied with the
treaty ; but I'll tell you what I am sorry for. I am grieved
we asked, or your Governor- General gi-auted, a right to us to
land on these shores and make our fisn. Lord Elgin ought to
have known that every foot of the sea-coast of Nova Scotia has
been granted, and is now private property.

" To concede a privilege to land, with a proviso to respect
the rights of the owner, is nonsense. This comes of not sending
a man to negociate who is chosen by the people, not for his
rank, but for his ability and knowledge. The fact is, I take
blame to myself about it, for I was pumped who would do best
and be most acceptable to us Americans. I was afeared they
would send a Billingsgate contractor, who is a plaguy sight
more posted up about fisheries than any member ot parliament,
or a clever colonist (not a party man), and they know more
than both the others put togetht • ; and I dreaded if they sent
either, there would be a quid pro quo, as Josiah says, to be
given, afore we got the fisheries, if we ever got them at all.

* So,' sais I, out of a bit of fun, for I can't help taken a rise out
of folks no how I can fix it, * send us a lord. We are mighty
fond of noblemen to Washington, and toady them first-rate. It
will please such a man as Pierce to show nim so much respect
as to send a peer to him. He will get whatever he asks.'

" Well, they fell into the trap beautiful. They sent us one,
and we roAved him up to the very head waters of Salt River in
no time.* But I am sorry we asked the privilege to land and
cure fish. I didn't think any created critter would have granted
that. Yes, I foresee trouble arising out of this. Suppose

* Cayenne Pepper,' as we call the captain that commanded the

* Cayenne' at Grey Town, was to come to a port in Nova Scotia,

♦ To row up Salt River is a common phrase, used generally to denote po-
litical defeat. The distance to which a party is rowed up Salt River depends
entirely xipon the magnitude of the majority against him. If the defeat is
overwhelming, the unsuccessful party is said " to be rowed up to the very
head waters of Salt River.'' The phrase has its origin in the fact that there
is a small stream of that name in Kentucky, the passage of which is made dif-
ficult and laborious, as well by its tortuous course as by numerous shallows
and bars. The real application of the phrase is to the xmhappy wight who
propels the boat, but politically, in slang usage, it means the man rowed up,
the passenger — I. Inman.

,,.I' -■•VftftsL>*»i».

A SURPRISE.

and pepper it for iniultin* our flafi; by apprrlipnden trcupasiiert
(though how a constable is to arrest a crew of twenty men un-
less, irishman like, ho surrounds them, is a mystery to me).
What would be done in that case P Neither you nor 1 can teU,
Squire. But depend upon it, there is a temnestical time comin',
and it is as well to be on the safe side of the fence when there
is a chance of kicking going on.

"The bombardment of Orey Town was the greatest and
bravest exploit of modem times. We silenced their guns at the
first broadside, and shut them up so sudden that envious folks
like the British now swear they had none, while wo lost only
one man in the engagement, but he was drunk and fell over-
board. What is the cannonade of Sebastopool to that ? Why
it sinks into insignificance."

He had hardly ceased speaking, when the wheels of a car-
riage were heard rapidly approaching the door. Taking out his
watch, and observing the hour, he said: "Squire, it is now
eleven o'clock. I must be a movin'. Good bve ! I am off to
Halifax. I am goin* to make a night flight ot it. The wind is
fair, and I must sail by daylight to-morrow morning. Fare-
weU!"

He then shook hands most cordially with me, and said:
" Squire, unless you feel inclined at some future day to make
the tour of the States with me, or somethin' turns up I am not
availed of, I am afraid you have seen the lost Journal of your
old friend* Sam SHck.'"

CHAPTEE II.

CLIFFEBS AND BTEAMEBS.

Whoeteb has taken the trouble to read the " Wise Saws "
of IMr Slick, will be prepared to resume the thread of his nar-
rative without explanation, if indeed these unconnected selec-
tions deserve the appellation. But as this work may fall into
the hands of many people who never saw its predecessor, it
may be necessary to premise that our old friend Sam, having
received a commission from the President of the United States
to visit the coast of Nova Scotia, and report to him fully on
the state of the fisheries, their extent and value, the manner in
which they were prosecuted, and the best mode of obtaining a

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

Ill

^participation in them, he proceeded on his cruise in a trading
vessel, called the " Black Hawk," whereof Timoth^ Cutler was
master, and Mr Eldad Nickerson the pilot. The two preceding
volumes contained his adventures at sea, and in the harbours of
the province, to the westward of Halifax. The present work is
devoted to his remarks on " nature and human nature."

While amusing himself fishing within three mUes of the
coast, off La Halve, in contravention of the treaty, he narrowly
escaped capture by the British cruiser " Spitfire," commanded
by Captain Stoker. By a skilful manoeuvre, he decoyed the
man-of-war, in the eagerness of the chase, on to a sand-bar,
when he dexterously slipt through a narrow passage between
two islands, and keeping one of them in a line between the
" Black Hawk " and her pursuer, so as to be out of the reach
of her guns, he steered for the eastern shore of Nova Scotia,
and was soon out of sight of the islands behind which his
enemy lay embedded in the sand ; from this point the narrative
is resumed in Mr Slick's own words.* \

" 1 guess," said I, " Captain, the ' Spitfire ' will have to put
into Halifax to report herself and be surveyed, so we may
pursue our course in peace. But this 'Black Hawk' is a doll,
ain't she ? don't she skim over the w?ter like a sea gull? The
truth is, Cutler, when you ain't in a hurry, and want to enjoy
yourself at sea, as I always do, foi' I am a grand sailor, give me
a clipper. She is so light and buoyant, and the motion so
elastic, it actilly exilerates your spirits. There is something
like life in her gait, and you have her in hand like a horse, and
vou feel as if you were her master, and directed her movements.
1 ain't sur3 you don't seem as if yc; were pirt of her yourself.
Then there is room to saow skUl and seamanship, and if you
don't in reality go as quick as a steamer, you seem to go faster,
if there is no visible object to measure your speed by, and that
is something, for the white foam on the leeward side rushes by
you in rips, raps, and rainbows like Canadian rapids.

" Then if she is an atrysilly t like this, and she is doing her
prettiest, and actilly laughs again, she is so pleased, why you
are satisfied, for you don't make the breeze, you take it as you
find it, like all other good gifts of Providence, and say, ' ain't
she going ii'ce wink, how she forges ahead, don't she ? ' Your
attention iii kept alive, too, Avatchin' the wind, and trimmin'

* His remarks on the fisheries I have wholly omitted, for they have now
lost their interest. His observations on "nature and human nature" are
alone retained, as they may be said to have a universal application. — Ed,

•f The Atricilla, or laughing sea-gull. Its note resembles a coarse laugh.
Hence its name. It is very common in the Bahamas.

CUPPERS AND STEAMERS.

sail to it accordingly, aud the jolly *0h, heave oh,' of the sailors
is music one loves to listen to, and if you wish to take a stretch
for it in your cloak on deck, on the sunny or shady side of the
companion-way, the breeze whistles a nice soft lullaby for you,
and you are off in the land of Nod in no time."

" Dreaming of Sophy CoUingwood,'* sais the Captain, " and
the witch of Eskisooney, eh?"

" Yes, dreamin' of bright eyes and amilin' faces, or an)rthin'
else that's near and dear, for to my idea, the heart gives the
subject for the head to think upon. In a fair ^dnd and a char-
min' day like this, I never coiled up on the deck for a nap in
my life, that I had'nt pleasant dreams. You feel as if you
were at peace with all the world in general, and yourself in par-
tikeler, and that it is very polite of folks to stay to home ashore,
and let you and your friends enjoy yourselves without treadin'
on your toes, and wakin' of you up if asleep, or a jostlin' of you
in your turn on the quarter-deck, or over-hearin' of your conver-
sation.

"And ain't youalwaya ready foryour meals, and (?on't you walk
into them in rael right do^^'n earnest ? Oh, nothing evei tastes
so good to me as it does at sea. The appetite, like a sharp knife,
makes the meat seem tender, and the sea air is a great friend
of digestion, and always keeps company with it. Then you don't
care to sit and drink after dinner as you do at an hotel of an
idle day, for you want to go on deck, light your cigar, take a
sweep round the horizon with your glass to see if there is any
sail in sight, glance at the sky to ascertain if the breeze is likely
to hold, and then bring yourself to anchor on a seat, and have
a dish of chat for a dessert with the captain, if he is a man of
books like you, Cutler, or a man of reefs, rocks, and sandbars,
fish, cordwood, and smugglin', or collisions, wracks, and salvage,
like the pilot.

" Then, if you have a decent sample or two of passengers on
board, you can discuss men and things, and women and no-
things, law, physick, and divinity, or that endless, tangled ball of
yarn, politicks, or you can swap anecdotes, and make your for-
time in the trade. And by the same trail of thought we must
give one or two of these Blue-Noses now and then a cast on
board with us to draw them out. Well, if you want to read,
you can go and turn in and take a book, and solitudinise to it,
and there is no one to disturb you. I actilly learned French
in a voyage to Calcutta, and German on my way home. I got
enough for common use It warn't all pure gold; but it was
kind of small change, and answered every purpose of trade or
travel. Oh, it's no use a talk in'; where time ain't the main

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

object, there's nothin' like a sailin' vessel to a man who ain't
sea-sick, and such fellows ought to be cloriformed, put to bed,
and left there till the voyage is over. They have no business
to go to sea, if they are such foola as not to know how to enjoy
themselves.

" Then sailors are characters ; they are men of the world,
there is great self-reliance in them. They have to fight their
way in life through many trials and difficulties, and their trust
is in God and their own strong arm. They are so much in their
own clement, they seem as if they were born on the sea, cradled
on its billows, and, like Mother Carey's chickens, delighted in
its storms and mountain waves. They walk, talk, and dress
difvierently from landsmen. They straddle as they pace the deck,
sc as to brace the body and keep their trowsers up at the same
time ; their gait is loose, and their dress loose, and their limbs
loose ; indeed, they are rather too fond of slack. They climb
like monkeys, and depend more on their paws than their legs.
They tumble up, but never down. They count, not by fingers,
it is tedious, but by hands ; they put a part for the whole, and
call themselves hunds, for they are paid for the use of them, and
not their heads.

" Though they are two-handad they are not close-fisted fel-
lows. They despise science, but are fond of practical knowledge.
"When the sun is over the fo eyard, they know the time of
day as well as the captain, and call for their grog, and when
they lay back their heads, and turn up the bottom of the mug
to the sky, they call it in derision taking an observation. But
though they have many characteristics in common, there is an
individuality in each that distinguishes him from the rest. He
stands out in bold relief — I by myself, I. He feels and appre-
ciates his importan je. He knows no plural. The word ' our '
belongs to landsmen ; * my ' is the sailor's phrase — my ship, my
captain, my messmate, my watch on deck, * my eyes ! ' ' you
lubber, don't you know that's me?^ I like to listen to their
yarns and their jokes, and to hear them sing their simple ditties.
The odd mixture of manliness and childishness — of boldness and
superstitious fears ; of preposterous claims for wages and thought-
less extravagance ; of obedience and discontent — all goes to make
the queer compound called ' Jack.' How often have T laugh-
ed over the fun of the forecastle in these small fore and aft
packets of ourn ! ai,d I think I would back that place for wit
against any bar-room in New Yorlc or New Orleans, and I be-
lieve they take the rag off of all creation.

" But the cook is my favourite. He is a scientific man, and
so skilful in compounds, ho generally goes by the name of doc-

.#1

^V #M

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

tor. I like the daily consultation with him ahout dinner : not
that I am an epicure; hut at Bea, as the husiness nf life is eat-
ing, it is as well to he master of one's calling. Indeed, it ap-
pears to he a law of nature, that those who have mouths should
understand what to put in them. It gratifies the doctor to con-
fer with him, and who does it not please to he considered a man
of importance ? He is therefore a member of the Privv Coun-
cil, and a more useful member he is too than many Eight Hon-
ourables I know of— who have more acres than ideas. The
Board assembles after breakfast, and a new dish is a great item
in the budget. It keeps people in good humour the rest of the
day, and aftbrds topics for the table. To eat to support exist-
ence is only fit for criminals. Bread and water will do that ;
but to support and gratify nature at the same time is a noble
effort of art, and well deserves the thanks of mankind. The
cook too enlivens the consultation by telling marvellous stories
about fitrange dishes he has seen. He has eaten serpents with
the Siamese, monkeys in the West Indies, crocodiles and sloths
in South America, and cats, rats, and dogs with the Chinese ;
and of course, as nobody can contradict him, says they are de-
licious. Like a bilmon, you must give him the line, even if it
wearies you, before you bag him ; but when you do bring him
to land his dishes are savoury. They have a relish that is
peculiar to the sea, for where there is no garden, vegetables are
altcays most prized. The glorious onion is duly valued, for as
there is no mistress to be kissed, who will dare to object to its
aroma ?

" Then I like a Sunday at sea in a vessel like this, and a day
like this, when the men are all clean and tidy, and the bell rings
for prayers, and all hands are assembled aft to listen to the cap-
tain as he reads the Church Service. It seems like a family
scene. It reminds me of dear old Minister and days gone
by, when he used to call, us round him, and repeated to us the
promise 'that when two or three were gathered together in
God 8 name, he would grant their request.' The only difference
is, sailors are more attentive and devout than landsmen. They
seem more conscious that they are in the Divine presence. They
have little to look upon but the heavens above and the bound-
less ocean around them. Both seem made on purpose for them
— the sun to guide them by day, and the stars by night, the
sea to bear them on its bosom, and the breeze to waft them on
their course. They feel how powerless they are of themselves ;
how frail their bark ; how dependent they are on the goodness
and mercy of their Creator, and that it is He alone who can
rule the tempest and control the storuiy deep. Their impres-

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

sions are few, but they are strong. It is the world that hard-
ens tlie heart, and the ocean seems apart from it.

" They are noble fellows, sailors, and I love them ; but, Cut-
ler, how are they used, especially where they ought to be treated
best, on board of men-of-^iar ? The moment a ship arrives in
port, the anchor cast and the sails furled — what dees the captain
do ? the popular captain too, the idol of the men ; he who is so
kind and so fond of them ? Why, he calls them aft, and says,
• Here, my lads, here is lots of cash for you, now be oft' ashore
and enjoy yourselves.' And they give three cheers for their
noble commander — tlieir good-hearted ojBicer — the sailor's friend
—the jolly old blue jacket, — and they bundle into the boats, and
on to the beach, like school-boys. And where do they go?
Well, we won't follow them, for I never was in them places
where they do go, and so I can't describe them, and one thing
I must say, I never yet found any place answer the picture
drawn of it. But if half only of the accounts are true that I
have heerd of them, they must be the devil's own seminaries of
vice — that's a fact. Every mite and morsel as bad as the bar-
rack scenes that we read of lately.

" Well, at the end of a week back com<3 the sailors. They
have had a glorious lark and enjoyed themselves beyond any-
thing in the world, for they are pale, sick, sleepy, tired out,
cleaned out, and kickerl out, with black eyes, broken heads,
swelled cheeks, minus a few teeth, half their clothes, and all
their money.

" ' What,' says the captain, * what's the matter with you,
Tom Marlin, that you limp so like a lame duck ? '

" ' Nothing, your honour,' says Tom, twitching his forelock,
and making a scrape with his hind leg, ' nothing, your honour,
but a scratch from a bagganet.'

" * What ! a fight with the soldiers, eh ? The cowardly rascals
to use their side arms ! '

" ' We cleared the house of them, Sir, in no time.'

" ' That's right. Now go below, my lads, and turn in and
get a good sleep. I like to see my lambs enjoy themselves. It
does my hearl/ good.'

" And yet, Cutler, that man is said to be a father to his crew."

" Slick," said Cutler, " what a pity it is you wouldn't always
talk that way ! " Now if there is any created thing that makes
me mad, it is to have a feller look admiren at me, when I utter
a piece of plain common sense like that, and turn up the whites
of his eyes like a duck in thunder, as much as to say, what a
2)ity it is you weren't broughten up a preacher. It ryles me
considerable, I tell you.

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

" Cutler," said I, " did you ever see a colt in a pasture, how
he would race and chase round the field, head, ears, and tail up,
and stop short, snort as if he had seen the ghost of a bridle, and
off again hot foot?"

" Yes," said he, " I have, but you are not a colt, nor a boy
either."

" Well, did you ever see a horse when unharnessed from a
little light waggon, and turned out to grass, do nearly the same
identical thing, and kick up his heek like mad, as much as to
say, I am a free nigger now ? "

« Well, I have," said he.

" Stop," said I, a touchin' of him on his arm ; " what in the
world is that ? " and I pointed over the taffrail to the weather-
bow.

" Porpoises," said he.

« What are they a doin' of?"

" Sportin' of themselves."

" Exactly," sais I, " and do you place man below the beasts
of the field and the fishes of the sea? What in natur' was
humour given to us for but for our divarsion ? What sort of
a world would this be if every fellow spoke sermons and talked
homilies, and what in that case would parsons do ? I leave you
to cypher that out, and then prove it by algebra ; but I'll tell
you what they wouldn't do, I'll be hanged if they'd strike for
higher wages, for fear they should not get any at all."

" I knock under," said he ; " you may take my hat ; now go
on and finish the comparison between Clippers and Steamers."

" Well," sais I, " as I was a sa^', Captain, give me a craft
like this, that spreads its wings like a bird, and looks as if it
was bom, not made, a whole-sail breeze, and a seaman every
inch of him like you on the deck, who looks you in the face, in
a way as if he'd like to say, only bragging ain't genteel. Ain't
she a clipper now, and ain't I the man to handle her ? Now this
ain't the case in a steamer. They ain't vessels, they are more
like floating factories; you see the steam machines and the
enormous fires, and the clouds of smoke, but you don't visit the
rooms where the looms are, that's all. They plough through
the sea dead and heavy, like a subsoiler with its eight-horse
team ; there is no life in 'em ; they can't dance on the waters
as if they rejoiced in their course, but divide the waves as a rock
does in a river ; they seem to move more in defiance of the sea
than as if they were in an element of their own.

" They puif and blow like boasters braggin' that they extract
from the ocean the means to make it help to subdue itself. It
is a war in the elements, fire and water coutendin' for victory.

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

t '

They are black, dingy, forbiddin' looking sea monsters. It is
no wonder the superstitious Spaniard, when he first saw one,
said : * A vessel that goes against the tide, and against the wind,
and without sails, goes against God,' or that the simple negro
thought it was a sea-devil. They are very well for carrying
freight, because they are beasts of burden, but not for carrying
travellers, unless they are mere birds of passage like our Yankee
tourists, who want to have it to say I was ' ihar.^ I hate them.
The decks are dirty ; your skin and clothes are dirty ; and your
lungs become foul; smoke pervades everythin', and now and
then the condensation gives you a shower of sooty water by
way of variety, that scalds your face and dyes your coat into a
sort of pepper-and-salt colour.

" You miss the sailors, too. There are none on board — you
miss the nice light, tight-built, lathy, wiry, active, neat, joUy
crew. In their place you have nasty, dirty, horrid stokers;
some hoisting hot cinders and throwing them overboard (not
with the merry countenances of niggers, or the cheerful sway-
away-my-boys expression of the Jack Tar, but with sour, came-
ronean-lookin' faces, that seem as if they were dreadfully dis-
appointed they were not persecuted any longer — had no
churches and altars to desecrate, and no bishops to anoiut with
the oil of hill-side maledictions as of old), while others are
emerging from the fiery furnaces beneath for fresh air, and wipe
a hot dirty face with a still dirtier shirt, sleeve, and in return
for the nauseous exudation, lay on a fresh coat of blacking ; tall,
gaunt wretches, who pant for breath as they snufi" the fresh
breeze, like porpouses, and then dive again into the lower
regions. They are neither seamen nor landsmen, good whips
nor decent shots, their hair is not woolly enough for niggers, and
their faces are too black for white men. They ain't amphibi-
ous animals, like marines and otters. They are Salamanders.
But that's a long word, and now they call them stokers for
shortness.

" Then steamers carry a mob, and I detest mobs, especially
such ones as they delight in — greasy Jews, hairy Germans,
Mulatto-looking Italians, squalling children, that run between
your legs and throw you down, or wipe the butter off their
Dread on your clothes ; Englishmen that will grumble, and Irish-
men that vsdll fight ; priests that won't talk, and preachers that
will harangue ; women that will be carried about, because they
won't lie still and be quiet ; silk men, cotten men, bonnet men,
iron men, trinket men, and every sort of shopmen, who sever-
ally know nothing in the world but sUk, cotten, bonnets, iron,
trinkets, and so on, and can't talk of any thin' else; fellows who

CLIPPERS AT^ STEAMERS.

walk up and down the deck, four or five abreast when there are
four or five of the same craft on board, and prevent any one
else from promenadin' by sweepin' the whole space, while every
lurch the ship gives, one of them tumbles atop of you, or treads
on your toes, and then, instead of apoligisin*, turns round and
abuses you like a pick-pocket for stickin' your feet out and
trippin' people up. Thinkin' is out of the question, and as for
readin', you might as well read your fortune in the stars.

" Just as you begin, that lovely-lookin', rosy-cheeked,
wicked-eyed gall, that came on board so full of health and
spirits, but now looks like a faded striped ribbon, white,
yeller, pink, and brown — dappled all over her face, but her nose,
which has a red spot on it— lifts up a pair of lack-lustre peepers
that look glazed like the round dull ground-glass lights let into
the deck, suddenly wakes up squeamish, and says, ' Please, Sir,
help me down ; I feel so ill.' Well, you take her up in your
arms, and for the first time in your life hold her head from you,
for fear she will reward you in a way that ain't no matter, and
she feels as soft as dough, and it seems as if your fingers left
dents in her putty-like arms, and you carry her to the head of
the stairs, and call out for the stewardess, and a waiter answers,
* Stewardess is tight. Sir.'

" ' I am glad of it, she is just the person I want. I wish
all the other passengers were tight also.'

" * Lord, Sir, that ain't it — she is mops and brooms.'

" * Mops and brooms, I suppose she is, she must have plenty
use for them, I reckon, to keep all snug and tidy down there.'

" * Good gracious, Sir, don't you understand, she is half seas
over.'

" * True, so we all are, the captain said so to-day at tw^elve
o'clock, I wish we were over altogether. Send her up.'

" ' No, no, Sir, she is more than half shaved.'

"'The devil! does she shave? I don't believe she is a
woman at all. I see how it is, you have been putting one of
the sailors into petticoats.' And the idea makes even the
invalid gall laugh.

" * No, no. Sir, she is tipsy.'

"'Then why the plague couldn't you say so at once. 1
guess you kinder pride yourself in your slang. Help me to
assist this lady down to her friends.'

" Well, when you return on deck, lo and behold, your seat
is occupied, and you must go and stand by the rail till one is
vacant, when another gall that ain't ill, but inconveniently well,
she is 80 full of chat, says, * Look, look, Sir, dear me, what is
that, Sir? a porpoise. Why you don't, did you ever! well, I

M CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

never see a porpoise afore in all mj bom days ! are they good
to eat, Sir?'

" * Excellent food for whales, Miss.*

" * Well I never ! do they swallow them right down ?'

" ' I guess they do, tank, shank, and flank, at one gulp.'

" * Why how in the world do they ever get — ' but she don't
finish the sentence, for the silk man, cotten man, iron man, or
trinket man, which ever is nearest, says, * There is a ship on the
lee-bow.' He says that because it sounds sailor-like, but it
happens to bo the weather-bow, and you have seen her an hour
before.

" ' Can you make her out ?' sais he ; that's another sea tarm
he has picked up ; he will talk like a horse-marine at last.

" * xes,' sais you, * she is a Quang-Tonger.'

" * A Quang-Tonger ?' sais the gall, and before the old coon
has disgested that hard word, she asks, ' what in natur is that P '

" * Why, Miss, Quang-Tong is a province of China, and
Canton is the capital; all the vessels at Canton are called
Quang-Tongers, but strangers call them Chinese Junks. Now,
Miss, you have seen two new things to-day, a bottle-nosed por-
poise and — '

" * Was that a bottle-nosed porpoise. Sir ? why you don't
say so ! why, how you talk, why do they call them bottle-noses ? '

" ' Because, Miss, they make what is called velvet corks out
of their snouts. They are reckoned the best corks in the world.
And then, you have seen a Chinese Junk?'

" * A Chinese Junk,' sais the astonished trinket man, * well I
vow! a Chinese Junk, do tell!' and one gall calls Jeremiah
Dodge, and the other her father and her sister, Mary Anne
Matilda Jane, to come and see the Chinese Junk, and all the
passengers rush to the other side, and say, ' whare, whare,' and
the two discoverers say, * there, there ;' and you walk across the
deck and take one of tho evacuated seats you riave been longin'
for ; and as you pass you give a wink to the officer of the watch,
who puts his tongue in his cheek as a token of approbation,
and you begin to read again, as you fancy, in peace.

" But there is no peace in a steamer, it is nothin' but a large
calaboose,* chock full of prisoners. As soon as you have found
your place in the book, and taken a fresh departure, the bonnet
man sais, ' Please, Sir, a seat for a lady,' and you have to get up
and give it to his wife's lady's-maid. His wife ain't a lady, but
having a lady's-maid shows she intends to set up for one when
she gets to home. To be a lady, she must lay in a lot of airs,
and to brush her own hair and garter her own stockins is vul-
* Calaboose is a Southern name for jail.

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

gar ; if it was known in First Avenue, Spruce Street, in Bon-
netville, it would ruin her as a woman of fashion for ever.

" Now bonnet man wouldn't ask you to get up and give your
place to his wife's hired help, only he knows you are a Yankee,
and we Yankees, I must sav, are regularly fooled with women
and preachers ; just as mucn as that walking advertisement of
a milliner is with her lady's-maid. All over America in rail
carriages, stage coaches, river steamers, and public places of all
sorts, every critter that wears a white choker, and looks like a
minister, has the best seat given him. He expects it, as a mat-
ter of course, and as every female is a lady, every woman has a
right to ask you to quit, without notice, for her accommodation.
Now it's all very well and very proper' to be respectful to
preachers ; and to be polite and courteous to women, and more
especially those that are unprotected; but there is a limit,
tother side of which lies absurdity.

" Now if you had seen as much of the world as I have, and
many other travelled Yankees, when bonnet man asked you to
give up your seat to the maid, you would have pretended not to
understand English, and not to know what he wanted, but would
have answered him in French and offered him the book, and said
certainly you would give it to him with pleasure, and when he
said he didn't speak French, but what he desired was your place
for the lady, you would have addressed her in German, and of-
fered her the book, and when they looked at each other, and
laughed at their blunder, in thus taking you for a Yankee, per-
haps the man next to you would have offered his seat, and tlien
when old bonnet man walked off to look at the Chinese Junk,
you would have entered into conversation with the lady's-maid,
and told her it was a rise you took out of the old fellow to get
her along-side of you, and she would enjoy the joke, and you
would have found her a thousand times more handsome and
more conversational and agreeable than her mistress.

" But this wouldn't last long, for the sick gall would be car-
ried up on deck agin, woman like, though ill, very restless, and
chock full of curiosity to see the Chinese Junk also ; so you are
caught by your own ham, and have to move again once more.
The bell comes in aid, and summons you to dinner. Ah, the
scene in the Tower of Babel is rehearsed ; whai. a confusion of
tongues ! what a clatter of knives and forks and dishes ! the
waiter that goes and won't come back ; and he who sees, pities
but can't help you ; and he who is so near sighted, he can't hear;
and he who is intercepted, and made prisoner on his way.

"What a profusion of viands— but how little to eat! this is
cold J that under-done ; this is tough ; that you never eat ; while

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

all smell oily ; oh, the only dish you did fancy, you can't touch,
for that horrid German has put his hand into it. But it is all
told in one short sentence ; two hundred and fifty passengers
supply two hundred and fifty reasons themselves, why I should

f refer a sailing vessel with a small party to a crowded steamer,
f you want to see them in perfection go where I have been it
on Doard the California boats, and Mississippi river crafts. The
French, Austrian, and Italian boats are as bad. The two great
Ocean lines, American and English, are as good as anything bad
can be, but the others are all abominable. They are small worlds
over-crowded, and while these small worlds exist, the evil will
remain ; for alas, their passengers go backward and forward, they
don't emigrate — they migrate ; they go for the winter and return
for the spring, or go in the spring and return in the fall.

" Come, Commodore, there is old Sorrow ringing his merry
bell for us to go to dinner. I have an idea we shall have ample
room ; a good appetite, and time enough to eat and enjoy it :
come, Sir, let us, like true Americans, never refuse to go where
duty calls us."

After dinner. Cutler reverted to the conversation we had had
before we went below, though I don't know that I should call
it conversation, either ; for I believe I did, as usual, most of the
talking myself.

" r agree with you," «• id he, " in your comparative estimate
of a sailing vessel and a steamer, I like the former the best my-
self. It is moi-e agreeable for the reasons you have stated to a
passenger, but it is still more agreeable to the oflBcer in command
of her on another account. In a sailing vessel, all your work is
on deck, everything is before you, and everybody under your
command. One glance of a seaman's eye is sufficient to detect
if anything is amiss, and no one man is indispensable to you. In
a steamer the work is all below, the machinery is out of your
sight, complicated, and one part dependent on another. If it
gets out of order you are brought up with a round turn, all
standing, and often in a critical situation too. You can't repair
damage easily ; sometimes, can't repair at all.

" Whereas carrying away a sail, a spar, a topmast, or any-
thing of that kind, impedes but don't stop you, and if it is any-
thing very serious there are a thousand ways of making a tem-
{)orary ri^ that will answer till you make a port. But what I
ike best is, when my ship is in the daldrums, I am equal to the
emergency ; there is no engineer to bother you by saying this
can't be done, or that won't do, and to stand jawing and arguing
instead of obeying and doing. Clippera of the right lines, size,
and build, well found, manned, and commanded, will make nearly

CLIPPERS AND STEAMERS.

as ^ood work, in ordinary times, as steamers. Perhaps it is
prejudice though, for I believe we nailors are proverbial lor that.
But, Hlick, recollect it ain't all fair weather sailing like this at
oea. There are times when death stares you wildly in the face."

" Exactly," sais I, " as if he would like to know you the next
time he came for you, so as not to apprehend the wrong one.
He often leaves the rascal and seizes the nonest man ; my opinion
is, he don't see very well."

" What a droll fellow you are," said he ; ** it appears to me
as if you couldn't be serious for five minutes at a time. I can
tell you, if you were on a rocky lee-shore, with the wind and
waves urging you on, and you barely holding your own, perhaps
losing ground every tack, you wouldn't talk quite so glibly of
death. Was you ever in a real heavy gale of wind ? "

" Warn't 1," said I ; " the fust time I returned from Eng-
land it blew great guns all the voyage, one gale after another,
and the last always wuss than the one before. It carried away
our sails as fast as we bent them."

" That's nothing unusual," said Cutler ; " there are worse
things than that at sea."

"Well, I'll tell you," sais I, "what it did; and if that ain't
an uncommon thing, then my name ain't Sam Slick. It blew all
the hair off my dog, except a little tuft atween his ears. It did,
upon my soul. I hope I may never leave — "

" Don't swear to it, Slick," said he, " that's a good fellow.
It's impossible."

" Attestin' to it will make your hair stand on eend too, I
suppose," said I ; " but it's as true as preachin' for all that.
Wnat will you bet it didn't happen ? "

" Tut, man, nonsense," said he, " I teU you the thing is im-
possible."

"Ah!" said I, "that's because you have been lucky, and
never saw a riprorious hurricane in all your life. I'U tell you
how it was. I bought a blood-hound from a man in Eegent's
Park, just afore I sailed, and the brute got sea-sick, and then
took the mange, and between that and death starin' him in the
face, his hair all came off, and in course it blew away. Is that
impossible ? "

" Well, well," said he, ''you have the most comical way with
you of s^nj man I ever see. I am sure it ain't in your nature
to speak of death in that careless manner, you only talked that
way to draw me out. I know you did. It's not a subject how-
ever to treat lightly, and if you are not inclined to be serious
just now, tell us a story."

" Serious," sais I, " I am disposed to be ; but not sanctimo-

li!

m CLirPERH AND 8TRAMKRS.

nioiin, find you know that. But hero goes for a story, which haa
a nice little mom! in it too.

" ' Once on a time, when nipi were swine, and turkeys chewed
tobacco, and little birdH built their nestH in old men^H beards.'

" Pooh ! " »nid he, turning off huffy like, as if I wn» a goin*
to bluff him off. " 1 wonder whether supper is ready ? "

•• Cutler," sais I, " como back, that's a good fellow, and I'll
tell you the story. It's a short one, and v/ill just fdl up the
space between this and tea-time. It is in illustration of what
you wns a sayin', that it ain't always fair weather sailing in this
world. There was a jack-tar once to England who had been ab-
sent on a whaling voyage for nearly three years, and he had
hardly landed when he was ordered off to sea again, before he
had time to go home and see his friends. He was a lamentiu'
this to a shipmate of his, a serious-minded man, like you.

" Sais he, * Bill, it breaketh my heart to have to leave agin
arter this fashion. I havn't seen Polly now goin' on three years,
nor the little un either.' And he actilly piped his eye.

" * It seemeth hard, Tom,' said Bill, tryin' to comfort him ;
* it seemeth hard ; but I'm an older man nor you be, Tom, the
matter of several years;' and he gave his trowsers a twitch (you
know they don't wear galluses, though a gallus holds them up
sometimes), shifted his quid, gave his nor' wester a pull over his
forehead, and looked solemncholly, * and my experience, Tom, is,
that this life ain't all beer and skittles.*

" Cutler, there is a great deal of philosophy in that maxim :
a preacher couldn't say as much in a sermon an hour lo -g, as
there is in that little story with thai little moral reflectii/U at
the eend of it.

" * This life ainH all beer and skittles.* Many a time since I
heard that anecdote — and I heard it in Kew Gardens, of all
places in the world — when I am disappointed sadly, I say that
saw over, and console myself with it. I can't expect to go thro'
the world. Cutler, as I nave done : stormy days, long and dark
nights, are before me. As I grow old I shan't be so full of ani-
mal spirits as I have been. In the natur of things I must have
my share of aches, and pains, and disappointment, as well as
others ; and when they come, nothing will better help me to
bear them than that little simple reflection of the sailor, which
appeals so directly to the heart. Sam, this life ain't all beer
and skittles, that's a fact."

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all beer

CHAPTER III.

U5L0CKIN0 A WOMAS's HEART.

As we approached the eastern const, *' Eldad," sais I, to the
pilot, "is there any harbour about here when? our folks ran do
a little bit of trade, and where 1 can see something of * Fitiher-
men at home?'"

•' We must bo careful now how we proceed, for if the ' Spit-
fire ' floats at the flood. Captain Stoker will try perhaps to over-
haul us."

" Don't we want to wood and water, and ain't there some re-
pairs wanting," sais I, and I gave him a ^ink. "If so we can
put into port; but I don't think we will attempt to fish again
within the treaty limits, for it's dangerous work."

" Yes," sais he, touching his nose with the point of his finger,
"all these things are needed, and when thev are going on, the
mate and I can attend to the business ol the owners." He
then looked cautiously round to see that the captain was nut
within hearing.

"Wam't it the 'Black ITawk' that was chased?" said he.
" I think that was our nrme then."
" Why, to be sure it was," said I.

"Well," sais he, "this is the 'Sary Ann' of New Bedford
now," and proceeding aft he turned a screw, and 1 could hear a
board shift in the stem. " Do you mind that ?" said he : " well,
you can't see it where you stand just now at present; but the
* Sary Ann ' shows her name there now, and we have a set of
papers to correspond. I guess the Britisher can't seize her, be-
cause the 'Black Hawk' broke the treaty; can he?" And he gave
a knowing jupe of his head, as much as to say, ain't that grand ?
" Now our new captain is a strait-laced sort of man, you
see ; but the cantin' fellow of a master you had on board before,
wam't above a dodge of this kind. It it comes to the scratch,
you must take the command again, for Cutler won't have art
nor part in this game ; and we may be reformed out afore we
know where we are."

" Well," sais I, " there is no occasion, I guess ; put us
somewhere a little out of sight, and we won't break the treaty
no more. I reckon the ' Spitfire,' after all, would just as soon
be in port as looking after us. It's sinnll potatoes for a man-
of-war to be hunting poor game, like us little fore and afters."
" As you like," he said, " but we are prepared, you see, for

UNLOCKING A WOMAN S HEART»

the mate and men understand the whole thing. It ain't the
first time they have escaped by changing their sign-board."

" Exactly," said I, " a ship ain't like a dog that can only
answer to one name ; and * Sary Ann ' is as good as the * BlacK
Hawk,' every mite and morsel. There is a good deal of fun in
altering sign-boards. I recollect wunst, when I was a boy,
there was a firm to Slickville who had this sign over their shop :

' Gallop and More,
Taylors.'
"Well, one Saturdajr-night brother Josiah and I got a paint-
brush, and altered it in this way :

* Gallop and 8 More

Taylors

Make a man.'

" Lord, what a commotion it made. Next day was Sunday ;
and as the folks were going to church, thev stood and laughed
and roared like anything. It made a terriole hulla-buUoo.

" ' Sam,' said Minister to me, * what in natur is all that on-
decent noise about so near the church-door.'

" I told him. It was most too much for him, but he bit in
his breath, and tried to look grave ; but I see a twinkle in his
eye, and the comer of his mouth twitch, the way your eyelid
does sometimes when a nerve gets a dancing involuntarily.

" * A very foolish joke, Sam,' he said ; * it may get you into
trouble.'

" * Why, Minister,* said I, * I hope you don't think that — '

" * No,' said he, ' I don't think at all, I know it was you, for
it's just like you. But it's a foolish joke, for, Sam :

" ♦ Honour and worth from no condition rise — *

" * Exactly,' sais I.

" * Stitch well your part, there all the honour lies/

" * Sam, Sam,' said he, * you are a bad boy,' and he put on a
serious face, and went in and got his gown ready for service.

« The ' Sary Ann ' for the ' Black Hawk,' " sais I to myself,
" well that ain't bad either ; but there are more chesta of tea and
kegs of brai^dy, and such like, taken right by the custom-house
door at Halifax in loads of hay and straw, than comes by water,
just because it is the onlikeliest way in the world any man
would do it. But it is only some of the Bav of Fundy boys that
are up to that dodge. Smugglers in general haven't the courage
to do that. Dear me ! " sais I to myself, " when was there ever
a law that couldn't be evaded ; a tax that couldn't be shuffled
off like an old slipper ; a prohibition that a smuggler coiddn't
row right straight through, or a treaty that hadn't moi'e holej

UNLOCKING A WOMAN's HEART.

in it than a dozen supplemental ones could patch up ? //'« a
high fence that carCt he scaled, and a strong one that canH he broke
down. When there are accomplices in the house, it is easier to get
the door unlocked than to Jorce it. Receivers make smugglers.
Where there are not informers, penalties are dead letters. The
people here like to see us, for it is their interest, and we are
safe as long as they are friendly. I don't want to smuggle, for
I scorn such a pettifogin' business, as Josiah would call it ; but
I must and will see how the thing works, so as to report it to
the President."

" "Well, Eldad," sais I, " I leave all this to you. I want to
avoid a scrape if I can, so put us in a place of safety, and be
careful how you proceed."

" I understand," said he. " Now, Mr Slick, look yonder,"
pointing towards the shore. " "What is that ? "

" A large ship under full sail," said I, " but it is curious she
has got the wind oiF shore, and just dead on end to us."

" Are you sure," said he, " it is a ship, for if we get foul of her,
we shall be sunk in a moment, and every soul on board perish."

" Is it a cruiser ? " sais I ; " because if it is, steer boldly for
her, and I will go on board of her and show my commission as
an oflGlcer of our everlastin' nation. Captain," said I, " what is
that stranger?"

He paused for a moment, shaded his eyes with his hand, and
examined her. " A large square-rigged vessel," he said, " under
a heavy press of canvas," and resumed his walk on the deck.

After a while the pilot said : " Look again, Mr SUck, can
you make her out now ?"

"Why," sais I, "she is only a brigantine ; but ask the
skipper."

He took his glass and scrutinized her closely, and as he re-
placed it in the binnacle said : " We are going to have south;*rly
weather I think ; she loomed very large when I first saw her,
and I took her for a ship ; but now she seems to be an her-
maphrodite. It's of no consequence to us however what she
is, and we shall soon near her."

"Beyond that vessel," said the pilot, "there is a splendid
harbour, and as there has been a head wind for some time, I
have no doubt there are many coasters in there, from the mas-
ters of whom you can obtain much useful information on the
object of your visit, while we can drive a profitable trade among
them and the folks ashore. How beautifully these harbours
are situated," he continued, "for carrying on the fisheries, and
Nova Scotian though I bo, I must say, I do think in any other
part of the world there would be large towns here."

'sM

UNLOCKING A WOMAN 8 HEAET.

" I think 80 too, Eldad," sals I, " but British legislation is at
the bottom of all your misfortunes, after all, and though you
are as lazy as sloths, and as idle as that fellow old Blowhard
saw, who lay down on the grass aU day to watch the vessels
passing, and observe the motion of the crows, the English, by
breaking up your monopoly of inter-colonial and "West India
trade and tnrowiug it open to us, not only without an equiva-
lent, but in the face of our prohibitory duties, are the cause of
all your poverty and stagnation. They are rich and able to act
like fools if they like in their owti affairs, but it was a cruel
thing to sacrifice you, as they have done, and deprive you of the
only natural carrying trade and markets you had. The more I
think of it the less I blame you. It is a wicked mockery to
lock men up, and then taunt tnem with want of enterprise, and
tell them they are idle."

"Look at that vessel again. Sir," said Eldad; "she don't
make much headway, does she ?"

AVeU, I took the glass again and examined her minutely, and
I never was so stumpt in my life.

" Pilot," said I, "is that the same vessel?"

" The identical," said he.

"I vow to man," sais I, "as I am a livin' sinner, that is
neither a ship, nor a brigantine, nor a hermaphrodite, but
a topsail schooner, that's a fact. What in natur' is the mean-
in' of all this ? Perhaps the captain knows," so I called him
again.

" Cutler, that vessel is transmografied again," sais I ; " look
at her."

"Pooh," said he, "that's not the same vessel at all. The
two first we saw are behind that island. That one is nothing
but a coaster. You can't take me in. Slick. Tou are always
full of your fun, and taking a rise out of some one or another,
and I shall be glad when we land, you wiU then have some one
else to practise on."

In a short time the schooner vanished, and its place was
supplied by a remarkable white clift', which from the extraordi-
nary optical delusion ^t occasions gives its name to the noble
port which is now called Ship Harbour. I have since mentioned
this subject to a number of mariners, and have never yet hoard
of a person who was not deceived in a similar manner. As we
passed through the narrows, we entered a spacious and magni-
ficent basin, so completely land-locked that a fleet of vessels of
the largest size may lay there unmoved by any wind. There is
no haven in America to be compared with it.

" You are now safe," said the pilot j "it is only twelve leagues

UNLOCKING A WOMAN's HEART.

from Halifax, and nobody would think of looking for you here.
The fact is, the nearer you hide the safer you be."

*' Exactly," ^ais I ; " what you seek you can't find, but when
you ain't looking for a thing, you are sure to scumble on it."

" If you ever want to run goods, Sir," said he, " the closer
you go to the port the better. Smugglers ain't all up to this,
so they seldom approach the lion's den, but go farther and
fare worse. Now we may learn lessons from dumb animals.
They know we reason on probabilities, and therefore always do
what is improbable. AVe think them to be fools, but they know
that we pre. The fox sees we always look for him about his
hole, and therefore he carries on his trade as far from it, and as
near the poultry yard, as possible. If a dog kills sheep, and
them Newfoundlanders are most uncommon fond of mutton, I
must say, he never attacks his neighbour's flock, for he knows
he would be suspected and had up for it, but sets off at night,
and makes a foray like the old Scotch on the distant borders.

" He washes himself, for marks of blood is a bad sign, and
returns afore day, and wags his tail, and runs round his master,
and looks up into his face as innocent as you please, as much as
to say, ' Squire, here I have been watchin' of your property all
this live-long night, it's dreadful lonely work, I do assure you,
and oh, how glad I am to see the shine of your face this morning.'

" And the old boss pats his head, fairly took in, and says,
* That's a good dog, what a faithful honest fellow you be, you
are worth your weight in gold.'

" Well, the next time he goes off on a spree in the same
quarter, what does he see but a border dog strung up by the
neck, who has been seized and condemned as many an innocent
fellow has been before him on circumstantial evidence, and he
laughs and says to himself, ' What fools humans be, they don't
know half as much as we dogs do.' So he thinks it would be
as well to shift his ground, where folks ain't on the watch
for sheep-stealers, and he makes a dash into a flock still far-
ther off.

" Them Newfoundlanders would puzzle the London detect-
ive police, I believe they are the most knowin' coons in all
creation, don't you?"

" Well, they arc," sais I, " that's a fact, and they have all
the same passions and feelings we have, only they are more
grateful than man is, and you can by kindness lay one of them
under an obligation he will never ibrget as long as he lives,
whereas an obligation scares a man, for he snorts and stares at
you like a horse at an engine, and is e'en most sure to up heels
and let you have it, like mad. The only thing about dogs is,

UNLOCKING A ROMAN'S HEART.

they can't bear rivals, they like to have all attention paid to
themselves exclusively, I will tell you a story I had from a
British colonel.

" He was stationed in Nova Scotia, with his regiment, when
I was a venden of clocks there. I met him to "Windsor, at the
AVilcox Inn. He was mightily taken with my old horse Clay,
and offered me a most an everlastin' long price for him ; he said
if I would sell him, he wouldn't stand for money, for he never
see such an animal in all his bom days, and so on. But old
Clay was above all price, his ditto was never made yet, and I
don't think ever will be. I had no notion to sell him, and I
told him so, but seein' he was dreadful disappointed, for a rich
Englishman actually thinks money will do anything and get any-
thing, I told him if ever I partea with him he should have him
on condition he would keep him as long as he lived, and so on.

" "Well, it pacified him a bit, and to turn the conversation,
sais I, * Colonel,' saie I, ' what a most an almighty everlastin'
super superior Newfoundler that is,' a pointin' to his dog ; ' cre-
ation,' sais I, ' if I had a regiment of such fellows, I believe I
wouldn't be afraid of the devil. My,' sais I, * what a dog !
would you part with him ? I'de give anything for him.'

" I said that a purpose to show him I had as good a right
to keep my horse as he had his long-haired gentleman.

" ' rfo,' sais he, with a sort of half smile at my ignorance in
pokin' such a question at him (for a Britisher abroad thinks he
has privileges no one else has), * no, I don't want to part with
him. I want to take him to England with me. See, he has all
the marks of the true breed : look at his beautiful broad forehead,
what an intellectual one it is, ain'l it ? then see his delicate
mouse-like ears, just large enough to cover the orifice, and
that's all.'

" ' Orifice,' said I, for I hate fine words for common use,
they are like go-to-meetin' clothes on week days, onconvenient,
and look too all fired jam up. Sais I, ' what's that when it's
fried. I don't know that word?'

" * "Why, ear-hole,' said he.

" * Oh,' sais I, simple like, ' I take now.'

" Ht smiled and went on. * Look at the black roof of his
mouth,' said he, ' and do vou see the dew claw, that is a great
mark t* Then feel that tail, that is his rudder to steer by when
swimming. It's different from the tail of other dogs, the
strength of that joint is surprising. But his chest, Sir, his chest,
see how that is formed on purpose for diving. It is shaped in-
ternally like a seal's, lind then, observe the spread of that webbed
foot, aad the power of them paddles. There are two kinds of

UNLOCKING A WOMAN 3 HEART.

I-

tliem, the short and the long haired, but I think those 8hap;gy
ones are the handsomest. They are very difficult to be got utTw
of the pure breed. I sent to the Bay of Bulls for this one. To
have them in iiealth you must make them stay out of doors in
all weather, and keep them cool, and above all not feed them
too high. Salt fish seems the beat food for them, they are so
fond of it. iSingular that, ain't it? but a dog is natural, Sir,
and a man ain't.

" * Now, you never saw a codfish at the table of a New-
foundland merchant in your life. He thinks it smells too much
of the shop. In fact, in my opinion t' e dog is the only gentle-
man there. The only one, now that tho Indian is extinct, who
has breeding and blood in that land of oil, blubber, and icebergs.*

" Lord, I wish one of them had been there to have heard
him, wouldn't he a harpooned him ? that's all. He made a con-
siderable of a long yarn of it, and as it was a text he had often
enlarged on, I thought he neNer would have ended, but like
other preachers, when he got heated, spit on the slate, rub it
all out, and cypher it over again. Thinks I to myself, I'll play
you a bit, my boy.

" * Exactly,' sais I, * there is 1/^ same difierence in dogs and
horses as there is in men. Some are noble by nature, and some
vulgar ; each is known by his breed.'

" * True,' said he, ' very true,' and he stood up a little
etraighter as if it did him good to hear a republican say that,
for his father was an Earl. ' A very just remark,' said he, and
he eyed me all over, as if he was rather surprised at my pene-
tration.

" ' But the worst of it,' sais I, ' is that a high bred dog or
horse and a high bred man are only good for one thing. A
pointer will point — a blood horse run — a setter will set — a
bull dog fight — and a Newfoundlander will swim ; but what else
are they good for ? Now a duke is a duke, and the devil a
thing else. All you expect of him is to act and look like one
(and I could pomt out some that don't even do that). If
he writes a book, and I beh'eve a Scotch one, by the help of his
tutor, diu once, or makes a speech, you say, Come now, that is
very weU for a duke, and so on. Well, a marquis ain't quite so
high bred, and he is a little better, and so on, downwards ; when
you get to an earl, why, he may be good for more things than
one. I ain't quite sure a cross ain't desirable, and in that way
that you couldn't improve the intelligence of both horses, noble-
men, and dogs — don't you think so. Sir?' sais I.

" ' It is natural for you,' said he, not liking the smack of

democracy that I threw in for fun, and looking uneasy. ' So,*

UNLOCKING A WOMAN ^S HEA.RT.

eaia he (by way of tuminfy the conversation), * the snffacity of
dogs is very wonderful. I will tell you an anecdote of this one
that has surprised (jverybody to whom I have related it.

" ' Last sunrner my duties led me to George's Island. I
take it for granted you know it. It is a small isU.nd situated
in the centre of the harbour of Halifax, has a powerful battery
on it, and barracks for the accommodation of troops. There was
a company of my regiment stationed there at the time. I took
this dog and a small terrier, called Tilt, in the boat with me.
The latter was a very active little fellow that the General had
given me a few weeks before. He was such an amusing crea-
ture, that he soon became a universal favourite, and was suffered
to come into the house (a privilege which was never granted
to this gentleman, who paid no regard to the appearance of his
coat, which was often wet and dirty), and who was therefore
excluded.

" * The consequence was. Thunder was jealous, and would
not associate with him, and if ever he took any liberty, he turned
on him and punished him severely. This however he never pre-
sumed to do in my presence, as ne knew I would not suffer it,
and therefore, when they both accompanied mc in my walks,
the big dog contented himself with treating the other with per-
fect indifference and contempt. Upon this occasion, Thunder
lay down in the boat and composed himself to sleep, while the
little fellow, who was full of life and animation, and appeared
as if he did not know what it was to close his eyes, sat up,
looked over the gunwale, and seemed to enjoy the thing uncom-
monly. He watched che motions of the men, as if he under-
stood what was required of them, and was anxious they should
acquit themselves properly.*

" ' He knew,' said I, ' it was what sailors call the dog loafch*

" ' Very good' said he, but looking all the time as if he
thought the interruption very bad.

" ' After having made my inspection, I returned to the boat,
for the purpose of recrossing to the town, when I missed the
terrier. Thunder was close at my heels, and when I whistled
for the other, wagged his tail and looked up in my face, as if
he would say, Never mind that foolish dog, I am here, and that
is enough, or is there anything you want me to do ?

"'After calling m vain, I went back vo the barracks, and
inquired of the men for Tilt, but no one appeared to have seen
him or noticed his motions.

" * After perambulating the little island in vain, I happened
to ask the sentry if he knew where he was.

" ' Yes, Sir,' said he, * he is buried in the beacb V . J

UNLOCKING A WOMAN^S HEART.

85:

watch. ^
if he

" * Buried in the beach,' said I, with ^^at anger, * who dared
to kill him ? Tell me, Sir, immediately.'

"'That large dog did it. Sir. He enticed him down to tho '
shore by playing with him, pretending to croucli and then nm
after him ; and then retreatmg and coaxing him to chase liim ;
and when he got him near the beach, he throttled him in ru ■
instpnt, and then scratched a hole in tiie shingle and buried him,
covering him up with the gravel. After that he went into tho
water, and with his paws washed his head and face, shook him-
self, and went up to the barracks. You will find the terrier
just down there. Sir.'

" * And sure enough there was the poor little fellow, quite
dead, and yet warm.

" * In the mean time Thunder, who had watched our proceed- ;
ings from a distance, as soon as he saw the body exhumed, felt
as if there was a court-martial holding over himself, plunged
into the harbour and swam across to the town, and hid himself
for several days, until he thought the aifair had blown over ; ?
and then approached me anxiously and cautiously, lest he should
be apprehended and condemned. As I was unwilling to lose
both my dogs, I was obliged to overlook it, and take him back
to my confidence. A strange story, ain't it, Mr Slick.'

" ' Well, it is,' sais I, * but dogs do certainly beat all natur,
that's a fact.'

" But to get back to the ' Black Hawk : ' as soon as we an-
chored, I proposed to Cutler that we should go ashore and visit
the * natives.' While he was engaged giving his orders to the
mate, I took the opportunity of inquiring of the pilot about the
inhabitants. This is always a necessary precaution. If you
require light-houses, buoys, and sailing directions to enter a
port, you want similar guides when you land. The navigation
there is difficult also, and it's a great thing to know who you
are going to meet, what sort of stuff they are made of, and
which way to steer, so as to avoid hidden snoals and sand-bars,
for every little community is as full c»f them as their harbour.
It don't do, you know, to talk tory in the house of a radical, to
name a bishop to a puritan, to let out agin smugglin' to a man
who does a little bit of business that way himself; or, as the
French say, ' to talk of a rope in a house where the squatter
has been hanged.' If you want to please a guest, you must
have some of his favourite dishes at dinner for him ; and if you
want to talk agreeably to a man, you must select topics he has
a relish for.

" So," sais I, " where had we better go. Pilot, when we land ? 'V

"Do yoa see that are white on»-story house there?" said

■\

UNLOCKING A WOMAN S HEART.

ho. "That is a place, though not an inn, where the owner, if
he is at home, will receive the likes of yon very hospitably. He
is a capital fellow in his way, but as hot as pepper. His name
is Peter McDonald, and he is considerable well to do in the
world. He is a Highlander; and when young went out to
Canada in the employment of the North-west Fur Company,
w here he spent many years, and married, broomstick fashion, I
suppose, a squaw. After her death he removed, with his two
half-caste daughters, to St John's, New Brunswick ; but his
girls I don't think were very well received, on account r-f their
colour, and ho came doAvn here and settled at Ship Harbour,
where some of his countrvmen are located. He is as proud as
Lucifer, and so are his galls. "Whether it is that they have been
slighted, and revenge it on all the rest of the world, I don't
know ; or whether it is Highland and Indian pride mixed, I ain't
sartified; but they carry their heads high, and show a stift* up-
per lip, I tell you. I don't think you will get much talk out
of them, for I never could."

" Well, it don't follow," said I, " by no manner of means,
Eldad, because they wouldn't chat to you, that they wouldn't
open their little mugs to me. First and foremost recollect, Mr
Nickerson, you are a married man, and it's no use for a gall to
talk it into you ; and then, in the next place, you see you know
a plaguey sight more about the shape, make, and build of a craft
like this than you do about the figure-head, waist, and trim of
a gall. Tou are a seaman, and I am a landsman ; you know
how to bait jrour hooks for fish, and I know the sort of tackle
women will jump at. See if I don't set their clappers a going,
like those ol a saw-mill. Do they speak English r "

" Yes," said he, " and they talk Gaelic and Frenchalso ; the
first two they learned from their father, and the other in Canada."

"Are they pretty?"

" The eldest is beautiful," said he ; " and there is something
in her manner you can't help thinking she is a lady. You
never saw such a beautiful figure as she is in your life."

Thinks I to myself, " that's all you know about it, old boy."
But I didn't say so, for I was thinking of Sophy at the time.

"We then pushed off, and steered for Peter McD-ii aid's,
Indian Peter, as the pilot said the fishermen called him. As
we approached the house he came out to meet us. He was a
short, strong-built, athletic man, and his step was as springy as
a boy's. He had a joUy, open, manly face, but a quick, restless
eye, and the general expression of his countenance indicated at
once good nature and irascibility of temper.

" Coot tay, shentlemen," he said, " she is glad to see you ;

UNLOCKING A WOMAN's HEART.

'•.)

come, walk into her own hou8<\" He rcco^ised and received
Eldad kindly, who mentioned our names nud introduced us, and
he weleom 'd us cordially. As soon as we were seated, accord-
ing to the custom of tli3 north-west traders, he insisted upon
our takinj; somethinp; to drink, and calling; to his daughter
Jessie in Gaelic, he desired her to bring whiskey and brandy.
As I knew this was a request that on such an occasion could
not be declined without oftence, I accepted his oft'er with
thanks, and no little praise of the virtues of whiskey, the prin-
cipal recommendation of which, 1 said, " was that there was not
a neadac^ in a hogshead of it."

"SI believes so herself," he said, "it ispettern'^ .1 de
rum, prandy, shin, and other Yanke pyson iu the k ..aes; ta
Yankies are cheatin smugglin rascalls,"

The entrance of Jessie fortunately gave a turn to this com-
plimentary remark ; when she set down the tray, I rose and
extended my hand to her, and said in GaeKc, " Cair mur tha thu
mo gradh (how do you do, my dear), tha mVn docJias gam biel
thu slan (I hope you are quite well)."

The girl was amazed, but no less pleased. How sweet to
the ear are the accents of the paternal language, or the mother
tongue as we call it, for it is women who teach us to talk. It
is a bond of union ! "Whoever speaks it, when we are in a land
of strangers, is regarded as a relative. I shall never forget
when I was in the bazaar at Calcutta, how my heart leaped at
hearing the voice of a Connecticut man as he was addressing a
native trader.

" Tell you what, stranger," said he, " I feel as mad as a meat
axe, and I hope I may be darned to all damation, if I wouldn't
chaw up your ugly mummyised corpse, hair, hide, and hoof, this
blessed minute, as quick as I would mother's dough-nuts, if I
wam't afraid you'd pyson me with your atimy, I'U be dod
drotted if I wouldn't."

Oh, how them homespun words, coi\rse as they were, cheered
my drooping spirits, and the real Connecticut nasal twang with
which they were uttered sounded like music to my cars ; how
it brought up home and far-olF friends to my mind, and how it
sent up a tear of mingled joy and sadness to my eye.

Peter was delighted. He slapped me on the back with a
hearty good will, in a way nearly to deprive me of my breath,
welcomed me anew, and invited us all to stay with him while
the vessel remained there. Jessie replied in Gaelic, but so
j< pidly I could only follow her with great difficulty, for I had
but a smattering of it, though I understood it better than I
could speak it, having acquired it in a very singular manner, as

.UNLOCKING A WOMAN S IIILVRT.

I will tell you by and by. Oficring her a chair, bHc took it
atul Bat down aftor Homo hesitation, as it* it was not her usual
habit to associate with her father's visitors, and wo were soon
on very soeiablo terms. I asked the name of the trading post
in the no.th-west where they had resided, and delighted her by
informing her 1 had once been there myself on business of John
Jacob Astor's New York Fur C )mpany, and staid with the
Governor, who was the friend and patron of her father's. This
was sulUcient to establish us at once on something like the foot-
ing of old friends. AVlien she withdrew, Peter followed her
out, ])robably to give some directions for our evening meal.

" Well, well," said the pilot, " if you don't beat all! I never
could get a word out of that girl, and you have loosened her
tongue in rale right down earnest, that's a fact."

"Eldad," sais I, "there is two sorts of pilotage, one that
enables you to steer through life, and another that carries you
safely along a coast, and there is this ditference between them :
This universal globe is all alike in a general way, and the know-
ledge that is sullicient for one country will do for all the rest of
it, with some slight variations. Now you may be a very good
pilot on this coast, but your knowledge is no use to you on the
shores of England. A land pilot is a fool if he makes shipwreck
wherever he is, but the best of coast pilots when he gets on a
strange shore is as helpless as a child. Now a woman is a wo-
man all over the world, whether she speaks Gaelic, French,
Indian, or Chinese ; there are various entrances to her heart,
and if you have experience, you have got a compass which will
enable you to steer through one or the other of them, into the
inner harbour of it. Now, Minister used to say that Eve in
Hebrew meant talk, for providence gave her the power of chatty-
fication on purpose to take charge of that department. Clack
then you see is natural to them ; talk therefore to them as they
like, and they will soon like to talk to you. If a woman was to
put a Bramah lock on her heart, a skilful man would find his
way into it if he wanted to, I know. That contrivance is set
to a particular word ; find the letters that compose it, and it
opens at once. The moment I heard the Gaelic, I knew I had
discovered the cypher — I tried it and succeeded. Tell you what,
Pilot, love and skill laugh at locks, for them that canH he opened
can be picked. The mechanism of the human heart, ichen you
thoroughly understand it, is, like all the other works of nature,
eery beautiful, very wonderful, hut very simple. When it does
not work well, the fault is not in the machinery, hut in the man-
agtment"

A CRITTER WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES.

CHAPTEE IV.

A CRITTEE WITH A THOUSAND TIRTUE8 AND BUT ONE VICE.

on a

man-

Soon after McDonald had returned and resumed his f^i'nt, a
tall thin man, dressed in a coarse suit of homespun, eutt-rcd the
room, and addressing; our host familiarly as !S(|uire Peter, de-
posited in the corner a fishing-rod, and proceeded to disen-
cumber himself of a large salmon basket apparently well lillod,
and also two wallets, one of which seemed to contain hie
clothes, and the other, from the dull heavy sound it emitted as
he threw it on the lloor, some tools. He was about forty years
of age. His head, which was singularly well formed, was
covered with a luxuriant mass of bushy black curls. His eyes
were large, deep set, and intelligent, his forehead expansive and
projecting, and his eyebrows heavy and shaggy. When ad-
dressing Peter he raised them up in a peculiar manner, nearly
to the centre of his forehead, and when no ceased they suddenly
dropped and partially concealed his eyes.

It was impossible not to be attracted by a face that had
two such remarkable expressions ; one of animation, amiability,
and intelligence ; and the other of total abstraction. He bent
forward, even after he relieved himself of his load, and his atti-
tude and gait suggested the idea of an American land-surveyor,
who had been accustomed to carry heavy weights in the forest.
AVithout condescending to notice the party, further than be-
stowing on us a cursory glance to ascertain whether he knew
any of us, he drew up to the chimney comer, and placing the
soles of his boots perpendicularly to the fire (which soon indi-
cated by the vapour arising from them that he had been
wading in water), he asked in a listless manner and without
waiting for replies, some unconnected questions of the land-
lord: as, "Any news, Peter? how does the world use you?
how are the young ladies? how is fish this season? macarel
plenty? any wrecks this year, Peter, eh? any vessels sinking
and dead men floating ; silks, satins, ribbons, and gold watches
waiting to be picked up ? Glorious coast this ! the harvest ex-
tends over the whole year." And then he drew his hand over his
face as if to suppress emotion, and immediately relapsed into
silence and stared moodily into the fire.

Peter seemed to understand that no answer was required,
and therefore made none, but asked him where he had come
irom?

A CRITTER WITH A TnOlSAND MRTIHS

"When' did Iip come from?" said the «tninq;er, who evi-
dontly applied the quostion to a fi»h in hi« hn»ket, and not to
himm-ir, "(trif^inftlly from the hike, Peter, where it was upawned,
and whither it annually n'tnnis. You ou^ht to understand
that, Mae, for you have a head on your Hliouhlers. and that is
more than half the poor wretches that float ashore hero from
the deep have. It's a hard life, my friend, ^joing to sea, and
hard shores sailors knock against sometinies, and still harder
hearts they often find there. A stone in the end of a stocking
is a sling for a giant, and soon puts an end to their sufferings;
a punishment for wearing gold Wi tches, a penalty for ])ride.
Jolly tars, eh? oh yes, very jolly! it's a jolly sight, ain't it, to
Bee two hundred half-naked, mangled, an(l disfigured bodies on
the beach, as I did the other day ?" and he gave a shudder at
the thought that seemed to shake the very chair he sat on.
" It's lucky their friends don't see them, and know their sad
fate. They were lost at sea ! that is enough for mothers and
wives to hear. The cry for help, when there is none to save,
the shriek of despair, when no nope is left, the half-uttered
prayer, the last groan, and the last struggle of death, are all
hushed in the storm, and weeping friends know not what they
lament."

After a short pause, he continued:

" That sight has most crazed me. What was it you asked?
Oh, I have it ! you asked where he came from ? From the lake,
Peter, where he was spawned, and where he returned, you see,
to die. Tou were spawned on the shores of one of the bays of
the Highlands of Scotland. Wouldn't you like to return and
lay your bones there, eh ? From earth you came, to earth you
shall return. Wouldn't you like to go back and breathe the
flir of childhood once more before you die? Love of home,
Peter, is strong ; it is an instinct of nature ; but, alas ! the
world is a Scotchman's home — anywhere that he can make
money. Don't the mountains with their misty summits appear
before you sometimes in your sleep ? Don't you dream of tneir
dark shadows and sunny spots, their heathy slopes and deep
deep glens ? Do you see tne deer grazing there, and hear the
bees hum merrily as they return laden with honey, or the
grouse rise startled, and whirr away to hide itself in its distant
covert ? Do the dead ever rise from their graves and inhabit
again the little cottage that looks out on the stormy sea ? Do
you become a child once more, and hear your mother's voice,
as she sings the little simple air that lulls you to sleep, or
watch with acbin^ eyes for the returning boat that brings your
father, with the shadows of evening, to his humble home ? And

AND BUT ONE VirK.

what 18 tho lanpiiftRC of your dronms ? not "Knijlisli, Frrncli, or
Indian, Pt'tor, for they have b«f'n l«»nriu'(l tor tnulo or tor
travel, but Onelic, for that was the lanijimj^e of lovo. ][a(l you
left home early, Mac, and for^'otten itit wonU or itn Hounds,
had all trace ot it vanished from your niemory a« if it had never
been, still would you have heard it, and known it, and talked
it in your dreams. Peter, it is tho voice of nature, and that is
the voice of God !"

♦'She'll tell her what she treams of womclimes," said
McDonald, "she treams of ta mountain dew — ta clear %vater
of life."

"I will be bound you do," said the doctor, "nn«l T do if
you don't, so, Peter, my boy, pivo n)(» a ^laHs; it will cheer my
heart, for I have been too much alone lately, and have seen
such horrid sij^hts, I feel dull."

While Peter (who was a good deal aflfected with this re-
ference to his native land) was proceeding to comply with his
request, he relapsed into his former state (»f ahstraction, and
when the liquor was presented to him, appeared altot^cther to
have forgotten that he had asked for it.

" Come, Toctor," said the host, touchinp; him on the
shoulder, "come, take a drop of this, it will cheer you up; you
seem a peg too low to-day. It's the genuine thing, it is some
the Governor, Sir Colin Campbell, gave me."

" None the better for that, Peter, none the better for that,
for the rich give out of their abundance, the poor from their
last cup and their last loaf; one is the gift of station, the other
the gift of the heart."

" Indeed then, she is mistakened, man. It was the gift of
as true-hearted a Highlander as ever lived. I went to see him
lately, about a grant of land. He was engaged writing at the
time, and an officher was standing by him for orders, and sais
he to me, *My good friend, could you call to-morrow ? for I am
very busy to-day, as you see.' Well, I answered him in Gaelic
that the wind was fair, and I was anxious to go home, hut if
he would be at leisure next week I would return again. Oh,
I wish you had seen him, Doctor, when he heard his native
tongue. He threw down his pen, jumped up like a boy, and
took me by the hand, and shook it with all his might. * Oh,*
said he, * I haven't heard that for years ; the sound of it does
my heart good. Ton must come again and see me after the
steamer has left for England. AVhat can I do for you ? So I
told him in a few words I wanted a grant of two hundred acres
of land adjoining this place. And he took a minute of my
name, and of Ship Harbour, and the number of my lot, and

A CRITTER WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES

|!;

li I

\vTote underneath an order for the grant. *Take that to the
Surveyor-General,' said he, *and the next time you come to
Halifax the grant will be ready for you.' Then he rang the
bell, and when the servant came, he ordered him to fill a
hamper of whiskey and take it down to my vessel.'

" Did you get the grant ?" said the stranger.

" Indeed she did," said Peter, " and when she came to read
it, it was for five instead of two hundred acres."

" Good!" said the other. " Come, I like that. Fill me an-
other glass and I will drink his health."

" Well done, old bo^ !" said I to myself, "you know how to
carry your sentimentabty to market anyhow. Doctor, doctor !
So you are a doctor," sais I to myself, " are you ? Well, there
is something else in you than dougl) pills, and salts, and senna,
at any rate, and that is more than most of your craft have, at
all events. I'll dravr you out presently, for I never saw a man
with that vein of melancholy in him, that didn't like fun, pro-
vidin' his sadness warn't the effect of disease. So here's at you;
I'll make the fun start or break a trace, I know."

Cutler and I had been talking horsie when he came in ; a
sort of talk I rather like myself, for I consait I knew a con-
siderable some about it, and ain't above getting a wrinkle from
others when I can. " Well," sais I, " Capting, we was a talking
about horses when the doctor came in."

" Captain," said the doctor, turning round to Cutler,
" Captain, excuse me, Sir, how did you reach the shore ? "

" In the boat," said Cutler.

" Ah ! " said the other with animation, " was aU the crew
saved ? "

"AVe were in no danger whatever, Sir; my vessel is at
anchor in the harbour."

"Ah," replied the doctor, " that's fortunf.te, very fortunate ; "
and turned again to the fire, with an air, as I thought, of dis-
appointment, as it' he had expected a tale of horror to excite
him.

"We J, Mr Slick," said the captain, "let us hear your
story about the horse that had a thousand virtues and only one

vice

At the sound of my name, the stranger gave a sudden start
and gazed steadily at me, his eyebrows raised in the extra-
ordinary manner that I have described, something like the
festoon of a curtain, and a smile playing on his face as if ex-
pecting a joke and ready to enter into it, and enjoy it. All this
I observed out of the corner of my eye, without appearing to
regard him or notice his scrutiny.

AND BUT ONE VICE.

o the
ne to

g the
lill a

oread

ne an-

biowto
loctor !
, there
senna,
ave, at
a man
n, pro-
at you;

e in; a

a cou-

le from

talking

Cutler,

le crew

el is at

mate;"

of dis-

excite

ar your
mil/ one

en start
extra-
ke the

as if ex-
All this

aring to

Sais I, " when I had my tea-store ia Boston, I owned the
fastest trotting horse in the United States ; he was a sneezer,
I tell you. I called him Mandarin — a very appropriate name,
you see, for my business. It was very important tor me to at-
tract attention. Indeed, you must do it, you know, in our great
cities, or you are run nght over, and crushed by engines of
more power. Whose horse is that ? Mr Slick's the great tea-
merchant. That's the great Mandarin, the fastest beast in all
creation — refused five thousand dollars for him, and so on.
Every wrapper I had for my tea had a print of him on it. It
was action and reaction, you see. Well, this horse had a very
serious fault that diminished his value in my eyes down to a
hundred doUars, as far as use and comfort went. Isothing ic
the world could ever induce liim to cross a bridge. lie had
fallen through one when he was a colt, and got so all-fired
f''ightened he never forgot it afterwards. He would stop, rear,
run back, plunge, and finally kick if you punished him too
hard, and smash your waggon to pieces, but cross he never
would. Nobody knew this but me, and of course I warn't
such a fool as to blow upon my own beast. At last I grew
tired of him and determined to sell him ; but as I am a man
that always adheres to the truth in my horse trades, the dif-
ficulty was, how to sell him and not lose by him. Well, I had
to go to Charleston, South Carolina, on business, and I took
the chance to get rid of Mr Mandarin, and advertised him for
sale. X worded the notice this way :

" * A gentleman, being desirous of quitting Boston on ur-
gent business for a time, will dispose of a first-rate horse, that
he is obliged to leave behind him. None need apply but those
willing to give a long price. The animal may be seen at Deacon
Seth's livery stables.'

" Well, it was soon known that Mandarin was for sale, and
several persons came to know the lowest figure. * Four thou-
sand dollars,' said I, * and if I didn't want to leave Boston in a
hurry, six would be the price.'

" At last young Mr Parker, the banker's son from Bethany,
called and said he wouldn't stand for the price, seeing that a
hundred doUars was no more than a cord of wood in his pocket
(good gracious, how the doctor laughed at that phrase!), but
would like to inquire a little about the critter, confidential
like.

" * I will answer any questions you ask,' I said, candidly.

" * Is he sound ? '

"'Sound as a new hackmetack trenail. Drive it all day,
and you can't broom it one mite or morsel.'

A CRITTER WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES

' " ' Good in harness ? *
, "'Excellent.'

" * Can he do his mile in two fifteen ? *

" ' He has done it.

•"Now between man and man,' sais he, *what is your
reason for selling the horse, Slick? for you are not so soft
as to be tempted by price out of a first chop article like that.*

" * Well, candidly,' sais I, ' for I am like a cow's tail, straight
up and down in my dealins, and ambition the clean thing.' "

" Straight up and down!" said the doctor aloud to himself;
* straight up and down like a cow's tail. Oh Jupiter ! what a
simile! and yet it ain't bad, for one end is sure to be in the
dirt. A man may be the straight thing, that is right up and
down, like a cow'h tail, but hang me if he can be the clean thing
anyhow he can fix it." And he stretched out his feet to their
full length, put his hands in his trowsers pocket, held down his
head, and clucked like a hen that is calling her chickens. I
vow I could hardly help bustin' out a larfin myself, for it wam't
a slow remark of hisn, and showed fun ; in fact, I was sure at
first he was a droll boy.

" "Well, as I was a sayin', sais I to Mr Parker, * Candidly,
now, my only reason for partin' with that are horse is, that I
want to go away in a hurry out of Boston clear down to
Charleston, South Carolina, and as I can't take him with me, I
prefer to seU him."

" ' Well,' sais he, * the beast is mine, and here is a cheque
for your money.'

" ' Well,' sais I, ' Parker, take care of him, for you have got a
fust-rate critter. He is all sorts of a horse, and one that is all
I have told you, and more too, and no mistake.'

" Every man that buys a new horse, in a general wa7, is in
a great hurry to try him. There is sumthin' very takin' in a
new thing. A new watch, a new coat, no, I reckon it's best to
except a new spic and span coat (for it's too glossy, and it don't
set easy, till it's worn awhile, and perhaps I might say a new
saddle, for it looks as if you warn't used to ridin', except when
you went to Meetin' of a Sabbaday, and kept it covered all the
week, as a gall does her bonnet, to save it Irom the flies) ; but
a new waggon, a new sleigh, a new house, and above all a new
wife, has great attractions. Still you get tired of them aU in a
short while ; you soon guess the hour instead of pullin' out the
watch for everlastin'. The waggon loses its novelty, and so
does the sleigh, and the house is surpassed next month by a
larger and finer one, and as you can't carry it about to show
folks, you soon find it is too expensive to inWte them to come

AND BUT ONE VICE.

, IS in
In' in

;o come

and admire it. But the wife ; oh, Lord ! In a general way,
there ain't more difference between a grub and a butterfly, than
between a sweetheart and wife. Yet the grub and the butterfly
is the same thing, only, differently rigged out, and so is the
sweetheart and wife. Both critters crawl about the house, and
ain't very attractive to look at, and both turn out so fine and
so painted when they go abroad, you don't scarcely know them
agin. Both, too, when they get out of doors, seem to have no
other airthly object but to show themselves. They don't go
straight there and back again, as if there was an end in view,
but they first flaimt to the right, and then to the left, and then
ever3rwhere in general, and yet nowhere in particular. To be
seen and admired is the object of both. They are all finery,
and that is so in their way they can neither sit, walk, nor stand
conveniently in it. They are never happy, but when on the
wing."

"Oh, Lord!" said the doctor to himself, who seemed to
think aloud ; " I wonder if that is a picture or a caricature ?"

Thinks I, " old boy, you are sold. I said that a purpose to
find you out, for I am too fond of feminine gender to make fun
of them. Tou are a single man. If you was married, I guesa
you wouldn't ask that are question."

But I went on. " Now a horse is different, you never get
tired of a good one. He don't fizzle out * like the rest. You
like him better and better every day. He seems a part of your-
self; he is your better half, your ' halter hego ' as I heard a
cockney once call his fancy gall.

" This bein' the case, as I was a sayin*, as soon as a man
gits a new one, he wants to try him. So Parker puts Mandarin
into harness, and drives away like wink for Salem, but when he
came to the bridge, the old coon stopt, put forward his ears,
snorted, champed his bit, and stamped nis fore feet. Pirst
Parker coaxed him, but that did no good, and then he gave him
the whip, and he reared straight up on eend, and nearly fell
over into his waggon. A man that was crossing over at the
time took him by the head to lead him, when he suddenly
wheeled half round, threw him in the mud, and dragged him in
the gutter, as he backed up agin the side walk all standin'.
Parker then laid on the whip, hot and heavy ; he gave him a
most righteous lickin'. Mandarin returned blow for blow, until
he kicked the waggon all to flinders.

" "Well, I must say that for his new owner, he was a plucky
fellow, as well as Mandarin, and wam't agoin' to cave in that
.way. So he takes him back to the livery stables, and puts him
* Fizzle out. To prove a failure.

1 1

A CRITTER ^VITH A TnOUS.\ND VIRTUES

; '-

into another carriage, and off he starts agin, and thinkin' that
the horse had seen or smelt sumthen at that bridge to scare
him, he tries another, when the same scene was acted over again,
only he was throwed out, and had his clothes nearly tore off.
Well, that afternoon, up comes Parker to me, choking with rage.

" 'Slick,' said he, 'that is the greatest devil of a horse I ever
see. He has dashed two carriages all to shivereens, and nearly
tuckard the innerds out of me and another man. I don't think
you have acted honestly by me.'

" 'Parker,' said I, 'don't you use words that you don't know
the meanin' of, and for goodness gracious sake don't come to me
to teach you manners, I beseech you, for I am a rough school-
master, I tell you. I answered every question you asked me,
candidly, fair and square, and above board.'

" ' Didn't you know,' said he, ' that no living man could git
that horse across a bridge, let him do his darndest ? '

" ' I did,' said I, ' know it to my cost, for he nearly killed me
in a fight we had at the Salem Pike.'

" ' How could you then tell me, Sir, your sole reason for part-
ing with him was, that you wanted to leave Boston and go to
Charleston ? '

" ' Because, Sir,' I replied, * it was the literal truth. Boston,
you know as well aa I do, is almost an island, and go which way
you will, you must cross a bridge to get out of it. I said I
wanted to quit the city, and was compelled to lea /e my horse
behind. How could I ever quit the place with that tormented
beast ? And warn't I compelled to leave him when Old Scratch
himself couldn't make him obey orders ? If I had a waited to
leave town till he would cross a bridge, I should have had to
have waited till doomsday.'

" He scratched his head and looked foolish. * What a devil
of a sell,' said he. ' That will be a standing joke agin me as long
as I live.'

" ' I don't see that,' said I, ' if you had been deceived, you
might have called it a sell, but you bought him with your eyes
and ears open, and a full knowledge of the truth. And, after
all, where will you go to better yourself? for the most that can
be said is, you have got a critter with a thousand virtues and hut
one vice.*

" ' Oh, get out ! ' said he, * and let me alone.* And he walked
off, and looked as sheepish as you please."

" * Oh dear ! " said the doctor ; " oh dear.'* And he placed
his hands on his ribs, and walked round the room in a bent po-
sition, like a man affected with colic, and laughed as if he w-as
hysterical, saying, " Oh dear ! Oh,. Mr Slick, that's a capital

AND BUT ONE VICE.

story. Oh, you would make a now man of me soon, I am sure
you woiild, it" I was any time witli you. 1 haven't laughed be-
fore that way for many a long day. Oh, it does me good. There
is nothing like fun, is there ? 1 haven't any mvself, but I do
like it in others. Oh, we need it. AV'e need all the counter-
weights we can muster to balance the sad relations of life. Ood
has made sunny spots in the heart ; why should tie exclude the
light from them ? ^*

" Stick a pin in that, Doctor," says I, ''for it's worth remem-
berin' as a wise saw."

He then took up his wallet, and retired to his room to change
his clothes, saying to himself, in an under-tone : " Stick a pin in
it. "What a queer phrase ; and yet it's expressive, too. It's the
way I preserve my insects."

The foregoing conversation had scarcely terminated, when
Peter's daughters commenced their preparations for the evening
meal. And I confess I was never more surprised than at the
appearance of the elder one, Jessie. In form and beauty she
far exceeded the pilot's high encomiums. She was taller than
American women generally are ; but she was so admirably pro-
portioned and well developed, you were not aware of her height,
till you saw her standing near her sister. Her motions were
all quiet, natural, and graceful, and there was an air about her,
that nothing but the native ease of a child of the forest, or high-
bred elegance of fashionable life, can ever impart. She had the
delicate hands and small feet peculiar to Indian women. Her
hair was of the darkest and deepest jet, but not so coarse as that
of the aborigines; whilst her large black eyes were oval in shape,
liquid, shaded by long lashes, and over-arched by delicately-pen-
cilled brows. Her neck was long, but full, and her shoulders
would have been the envy of a London ball-room. She was a
perfect model of a woman.

It is true she had had the advantage, when young, of being
the companion of the children of the Governor of the Fort, and
had been petted, partially educated, and patronised by his wife.
But neither he nor his lady could have imparted what it is pro-
bable neither possessed, much polish of manner or refinement
of mind. "We hear of nature's noblemen, but that means rather
manly, generous, brave fellows, than polished men. There are
however splendid specimens of men, and beautiful looking wo-
men, among the aborigines. Extremes meet ; and it is certain
that the ease and grace of highly civilised life do not surpass
those of untutored nature, that neither concedes nor claims a
superiority to others. She was altogether of a different stamp
from her sister, who was a common-looking person, and resem-

A CRITTER WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES

bled the ordinary females to be found In savage life. Stout,
strong, and rather stolid, accustomed to drudg*' aud to obey,
rather than to be petted aud rule ; to receive and not to give
orders, and to submit from habit and choice. One seemed far
above, and the other as much below, the station of their father.
Jessie, though reserved, would converse if addressed ; the other
shunned conversation as much as possible.

Both father aud daughters seemed mutually attached to each
other, and their conversation was carried on with equal facility
in Indian, French, Gaelic, and English, although reter spoke
the last somewhat indillerentlv. In the evening a young man,
of the name of Eraser, with his two sisters, children of a High-
land neighbour, came in to visit the McDonalds, and Peter pro-
ducing his violin, we danced jigs and reels, in a manner and
with a spirit not often seen but in Ireland or Scotland. The
doctor, unable to withstand the general excitement, joined in
the dances with as much animation as any of us, and seemed to
enjoy himself amazingly.

" Ah, Mr Slick," said he, patting me on the shoulder, " this
is the true philosophy of life. But how is it with your dispo-
sition for fun, into which you enter with all your heart, that you
have such a store of ' wise saws.' How in the world did you
ever acquire them? for your time seems to have been spent
more in the active pursuits of life than in meditation. Excuse
me, I neither undervalue your talent nor power of observation,
but the union does not seem quite natural, it is so much out of
the usual course of things."

" Well," sais I, " Doctor, you have been enough in the woods
to know that a rock, accidentally falling from a bank into a
brook, or a drift-log catching cross-ways of the stream, will often
change its whole course, and give it a different direction; haven't
you ? Don't you know that the smallest and most trivial event
often contains colouring matter enough in it to change the whole
complexion of our life ? Eor instance, one Saturday, not long
before I left school, and when I was a considerable junk of a
boy, father gave me leave to go and spend the day with Eb Snell,
the son of our neighbour old Colonel Jephunny Snell. "We
amused ourselves catching trout in the mill-pond, aud shooting
king-fishers, about the hardest bird there is to kill in all crea-
tion, and between one and the other sport, you may depend we
enjoyed ourselves first-rate. Towards evenin' I heard a most
an awful yell, and looked round, and there was Eb shoutin' and
screamin' at the tip eend of his voice, and a jumpin' up and down,
as if he had been bit by a rattlesnake.

« * What in nator is the matter of you, Eb ? ' sais I. ' What

AND BUT ONE VICE.

; long

: of a

SneU,

ooting

crea-

nd we

L most

in' and

down,

What

are you a maliin' such nn everlastin' touss about ? ' But the
more 1 asked, the more he wouhln't ansv.er. At last, I thought
I saw a splash in the water, as if somebotly was making a des-
perate splurging there, and I pulled for it, and raced to where
newas in no time, and sure enough there was his little brother,
Zeb, just a sinkin' out of sight. So I makes a spring in after
him in no time, caught him by the hair of his head, just as he
was vamosing, and swam ashore with him. The bull-rushes and
long water-grass was considerable thick there, and once or twice
I thought in my soul I should have to let go my hold of the
child, and leave him to save my own life, my teet got so tangled
in it ; but I stuck to it like a good fellow, and worked my pas-
sage out with the youngster.

" Just then, down came the women folk and all the family
of the Snells, and the old woman made right at me, as cross as
a bear that has cubs, she looked like a perfect fury

" * You good-for-nothin' young scallowag,' said she, * is that
the way you take care of that poor dear little boy, to let him
fall into the pond, and get half drowned ? '

" And she up and boxed my ears right and left, till sparks
came out of my eyes like a blacksmith's chimney, and my hat,
which was all soft with water, got the crown knocked in in thj
scuffle, and was as flat as a pancake.

" * What's all this,' sais Colonel Jephunny, who came runnin'
out of the mill. ' Eb,' sais he, ' what's all this ? '

" Well, the critter was so frightened he couldn't do nothin',
but jump np and down, nor say a word, but * Sam, Sam ! '

" So the old man seizes a stick, and catchin' one of my hands
in his, turned to, and gave me a most an awful hidin'. He cut
me into ribbons a'most.

" * I'll teach you,' he said, * you villain, to throw a child into
the water arter that fashin.' And he turned to, and at it agin,
as hard as he could lay on. I believe in my soul he would have
nearly killed me, if it hadn't a been for a great big nigger wench
he had, called Rose. My ! what a slashin' large woman, that
was ; half horse, half alligator, with a cross of the mammoth in
her. She wore a man's hat and jacket, and her petticoat had
stuff enough in it to make the mainsail of a boat. Her foot was
as long and as flat as a snow shoe, and her hands looked as
shapeless and as hard as two large sponges froze solid. Her
neck was as thick as a buU's, and her scalp was large and woolly
enough for a door-mat. She was as strong as a moose, and as
ugly too ; and her great white pointed teeth was a caution to a
shark.

" * Hullo,' sais she, ' here's the devil to pay, and no pitch

A CBI'ITEB WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES

hot. Are you a goin' to kill that y :«r, massa?* and she seized
hold of me and took me away from mm, and caught me up in
her arms as ea«y as if I was a doll.

" * Here's a pretty hurrahs nest,* sais she, * let me see one of
you dare to lav bancb on this brave pickininny. He is more of
a man than tne whole bilin' of you put together. My poor
child,' said she, ' they have used you scandalous, ridiculous,*
and she held down her nasty oily shiny face and kissed me,
, till she nearly smothered me. Oh, Doctor, T. shall never forget
that scene the longest day I ever live. She might a been Rose
by name, but she wam't one by nature, I te]l i/ou. When
niggers get their dander raised, and their ebenezer fairly up,
they ain't otter of roses, that's a fact ; whatever Mrs Stowe may
say. Oh, I kicked and yelled and coughed like anything.

" * Poor dear boy,' she said, * Rosy ain't a goin' to hurt hep
own bra> J child,' not she, and she kisb'ed me again and again,
till I thought I should have fainted. She actually took away
my breath.

" * Come,' said she, and she set me down on my feet. * Come
to the house, till I put some dry clothes on you, and I'll make
some lasses candy for you with my own hands!' But as soon
as I touched land, I streaked off for home, as hard as I could
lay legs to the ground ; but the perfume of old Rose set me a
sneezing so, I fairly blew up the dust in the road as I went, as
if a bull had been pawin of it, and left a great wet streak behind
me as if a watering-pot had passed that way. Who should I
meet when 1 returned, but mother a standin at the door.

" * Why, Sam,' said she, ' what under the sun is the matter ?
What a spot of work ? WTiere in the world have you been ?'

" * In the irall pond,' said I.

" * In the mill pond,' said she, slowly ; * and ruinnted that
beautiful new coat I made out of your father's old one, and
turned so nicely for you. You are more trouble to me than all
the rest of the boys put together. Go right oflf to your room
this blessed instant minite, and go to bed and say your prayers,
and render thanks for savin' your clothes, if you did lose your life.'

" * I wish I had lost my life,' said I.

"'Wish you had lost your life?' said she. 'Why you
miserable, onsarcumsised, onjustified, graceless boy. Why do
you wish you had lost your life ? '

" ' Phew, phew,' said I, ' was you ever kissed by a nigger ?
because if you was, I guess you wouldn't have asked that are
question,' and I sneezed so hard I actually blew down the wire
cage, the door of it flew open, and the cat made a spring like
wink and killed the canary bird.

AND BUT ONE VICE.

" * Sam, Sam,' said she (* aknt, skat, yon nasty devil, you —
you have got the knary, I do declare.) Sam ! Sam ! to think I
should have lived to hear you ask your mother if she had ever
been kissed by a nigger!' and she began to boohoo right out.
* 1 do believe m my soul you are drunk, Sam,' said she.

" * I shouldn't wonder if I was,' said I, * for I have drunk
enough to-day to sen'e a cow and a calf for a week.'

" * Go right off to bed ; my poor dear bird,' said she. * And
when your lather comes in I will send him to your cage. You
Bhall be punished for this.'

" * I don't care,' sais I, for I was desperate and didn't mind
■what happened, ' who you send, providin' you don't send black
Rose, the nigger wench to me.'

" "Well, in about an hour or so T heard father come to tho
foot of the stairs and call out ' Sam.' I didn't answer at first,
but went and threw the winder open ready for a jump.

" Thinks I, ' Sam, you are in great luck to-day. Ist. You
got nearly drowned, savin' that little brat Zeb Snell. 2 id. You
lost a bran new hat, and spoilt your go-to-meetin' clothes. 3rd.
Mrs Snell boxed your ears till your eyes shot stars, like rockets.
4th. You got an all-fired licking from old Colonel Jephunny,
till he made a mulatto of you, and you was half black and half
white. 5th. You got kissed and pysoned by that great big
emancipated she-nigger wench. 6th. You nave killed your
mother's canary bird, and she has jawed you till she went into
hysterics. 7th. Here's the old man a gom' to give you another
walloping and all for nothin. I'll cut and run, and dot drot me
if I don't, for it's tarnation aU over.'

" * Sam,' sais father again, a raisin' of his voice.

" * Father,' sais I, * I beg your pardon, I am very sorry for
what I have done, and I think I have been punished enough.
If you will promise to let me off this time, I will take my oath
I win never save another person from drowning again, the long-
est day I ever live.'

* ' Come down,' said he, ' when I teU you, I am goin' to re-
ward you.'

" ' Thank you,' sais I, ' I have been rewarded already more
than I deserve.'

" Well, to make a long story short, we concluded a treaty
of peace, and down I went, and there was Colonel Snell, who said
he had drove over to beg my pardon for the wrong he had done
to me, and said he, ' Sam, come to me at ten o'clock on Monday,
and I will put you in a way to make your fortune, as a recom-
pense for saving my child's life.'

" Well, I kept the appointment, tho' I was awful skared

A CRI'ITKR WITH A THOUSAND VIRTUES.

about old lioHo ki«Hin of m<: n^nin ; and sai.s lie, 'Saiii, ' want
to hIiow you my eHtiibilHhmcnt tor iiiJikinj^wof)dt'n clockH. Oik?
o' them can bo nianufactured for two (lollara, scale of prices
then. Come to me for three montliH. ptkI 1 will teach you the
trade, only you nuiHu't corry it on in Connecticut to undermine
me.* 1 did so, and thus aceidentally I became a elockinaker.

"To sell my wares I came to Nova Scotia. By a pimilur
iccident I met the 8(jin*r(» in this ])rovince, and made his ac-
quaintance. I wrote a journal of our tour, and for want of a
title he put my name to it, and called it ' Sam Slick, the Cloclt-
maker.' T'',at book introduced me to General Jackson, and
he appointed uie at^^ache to our embassy to England, and
that again led to Mr Polk making me CommissioTier of the
Fisheries, which, in its turn, v.as the means of my having the
honour of your acquaintance," and I made him a scrape of my
hind leg.

"Now," sais I, "all this came from the accident of my
havin' saved a child's life one day. 1 o»\ • my * wise saws ' to a
similar accident. My old master and friend, that you haA'e
read of in my books, Mr Hopewell, was chock full of them. He
used to call them wisdom boiled down to rn essence, concretes,
and I don't know what all. He had a book full of English,
Erench, Spanish, Italian, G'.iman, and above all, Bible ones.
Well, he used to make me learn them by heart for lessons, till
I was I'airlv Rick and tired to death of 'em.

" * Minister,' sais I, one day, * whi under the sun is the use
of them old, musty, fusty proverbs. A boy might as well wear
his father's boots, and ride in his long stirrups, as talk in max-
ims, it would only set other boys a laughin* at him.

" * Sam,' sais he, * you don't understand them now, and you
don't understand your Latin grammar, tho' you can say them
both oft' by heart. But you will see the value of one when you
come to know the world, and the other, when you come to know
the language. The latter will make you a good scholar, and
the former a wise man.'

" Minister was right. Doctor. As I came to read the book
of life, I soon began to understand, appreciate, and apply my
proverbs. Maxims are deductions ready drawn, and better ex-

Eressed than I could do them, to save my soul alive. Now I
ave lamed to make them myself. I have acquired the habit,
as my brother the lawyer sais, * of extracting the principle from
cases.' Do you take ? I am not the accident of an accident ;
for I believe the bans of marriage were always duly published
in our family ; but I am the accident of an incident."

"There is a great moral in that too, Mr Slick," he said.

I want
Ono

prii't'S
nu tlio
tTininu
iiktT.
pimilar
his ac-
nt of a

Cloclt-
•n, and
id, and

of the
ng tho
) of iny

of my
F8 ' to a
>u have
im. He
iicretes,
English,
[e ones.
0118, till

the use
ill wear
in max-

md you

ly them

len you

oknow

ar, and

le book
)ply my
ter ex-
Now I
e habit,
)le from
eident ;
iblished

le said.

A m:\v way IT) li:arn Gaelic.

'* How iinporhiiit is Cfindiict. when the morost trifle may carry
in its train the misery or happiuesn of your future lile."

"Stick a pin in that also. Doetor," said I.

Here Cutler and the pilot eut short our convorantion by
going on board. Hut Peter wouldn't hear of my leaving hiH
house, and 1 aeeordingly spent the night there, not a little
amused with my new act^uaiutuuccd.

CHAPTER V.

A NEW WAY TO LEATIN GAELIC.

After the captain and Ihe pilot had retired, sais I, "Miss
Jessie, sposin we young folks — (ah me, it is time to get a new
word, I guess, for that one has been used so long, it's e'en
amost worn out now) — sposin we young folks leave the doctor
and your father to fiuish theit* huntin' stories, and let us go to
the other room, and have a dish of chat about things in general,
and sweethearts in particular."

" Oh, we live too much alone here," said she, " to know any-
thing of such matters, but we will go if you wiU promise to tell
us one of your funny stories. They say yoa have written a
whole book full of them ; how I should bke to see it."

" "Would you, Miss ? " said I, " well, then, you shall have one,
for I have a copy on board I believe, and I shall be only too
proud if you will read it to remember me by. But my best
stories ain't in my books. Somehow or another, when I want
them they won't come, and at other times when I get a goin
talkin, I can string them together like onions, one after the
other, till the twine is out. I have a heap of them, but they are
all mixed and confused like in my mind, and it seems as if I
never could find the one I need. Do you work in worsted,
Miss?"

" Well, a little," sais she. " It is only town-bred girls, who
have nothing to attend to but their dress and to go to balls, that
have leisure to amuse themselves that way ; but I can work a
little, though I could never do anythin' fit to be seen or ex-
amined."

" I shouldn't wonder," said I, and I paused, and she looked
as if she didn't over half like my taking her at her w^ord that
way. " I shouldn't wonder," said I, " for I am sure your eyes
would fade the colour out of the worsted."

A NEW WAY TO LE.VRN OAEUC.

" \Vliy, Mr Sllok," unit! she, drawing hcreelf up a bit, " what
nonscnso you do talk, what a quiz you be."

" Fact," Bais I, " Miss, I assure you, never try it aRaln, you
will be sure to spoil it. Hut as 1 was a sayiu. Miss, when you
see a thread of a particular colour, you know whether you have
any more like it or not, so when a man tells me a story, I know
whether I have one of the same kind to match it or not, and if
80, 1 know where to lay my hand on it ; but I must have a clue
to my yams."

Hquire, there is something very curious about memory, I
don't think there is such a thing as total forgetfulness. I used
once to think there was, but I don't now. It used to see'^ to
me that things rusted out, but now it appears as if they w»-re
only misplaced, or overlaid, or stowed away like where you can't
find them ; but depend on it, when once there, they remain for
ever. How often you are asked, " Don't you recollect this or
that ? " and you answer, " No, 1 never heard, or saw it, or read
it," as the case may be. And when the time, and place, and
circumstances are told you, you say, " Stop a bit, I do now mind
Bomething about it, wam't it so and so, or this way, or that
way," and finally up it comes, all fresh to your recollection.
Well, until you get the clue given you, or the key note is struck,
you are ready to take your oath you never heard of it afore.
Memory has many cells. Some of them ain't used much, and
dust and cobwebs get about them, and you can't tell where the
hinge is, or can't easily discam the secret spring ; but open it
once, and whatever is stowed away there is as safe and sound as
ever. I have a good many capital stories poked aw^ in them
cubby-holes, that I can't just lay my hand on when I want to ;
but now and then, when looking for something else, I stumble
upon them by accident. Tell you what, as for forgettin' a thing
tee-totally, I don't believe there is sich a thing in natur. But
to get back to my story.

" Miss," sais I, " I can't just at this present moment call to
mind a story to please you. Some of them are about host^es, or
clocks, or rises taken out of folks, or dreams, or courtships, or
ghosts, or what not ; but few of them wiU answer, for they are
either too short or too long."

" Oh," says Catherine Fraser, " tell us a courtship ; I dare
say you will make great fun of it."

"No, no," says Jessie, "tell us a ghost story. Oh! I de-
light in them."

" Oh," said Janet, " tell us about a dream. I know one my-
self which came out as correct as provin' a sum."

" That's it, Miss Janet," said I ; "do you tell me that story,

A NEW WAY TO LKARN GAi:UC.

r>5

le my-

stoiy,

plonap, nnd it's hard if I can't find one that will ph'ano you in
return for it."

" Yen, do, dear," said JeHsie; "tell Mr Slick that Htory, for
it's a true one, and I should like to hear what he thinks of it,
or how he can account for it."

" Well," said Janet, "you must excuse mo, Mr Slick, for any
mistakes I make, for I don't speak very t^ood Kiigli8h,and I can
hardly tell a story all through in that lani;ua(;e.

"I have a brother that lives up one of the branches of the
Buctouche River in New Brunswick. Jle bought a tract of land
there four or five years ago, on which there was a house and
bam, and about a hundred acres of cleared land. lie made ex-
tensive improvements on it, and went to a great expense in clear-
ing up the stumps, and buying stock and farming implements,
and wnat not. One season, between plantin' and harvest, he run
short of money for his common daily use, and to pay some little
debts he owed, and he was very dull about it. He said he knew
he could come here and borrow it from father, but he didn't like
to be away from home so long, and hardly knew how the family
was to get on or to pay the wages till his return, so it was agreed
that I was to go the next Monday in a vessel bound for Halifax
and bring him what he wanted.

" At that time, he had a field back in the woods he was cul-
tivating. Between that and the front on the river, was a poor
sand flat covered with spruce, birch, and poplar, and not worth
the expense of bringing to for the plough. The road to the back
field ran through this wood land. He was very low-spirited
about his situation, for he said if he was to borrow the money
of a merchant, he would require a mortgage on his place, and
perhaps sell it before he knew where he was. "Well, that night
he woke up his wife, and said to her —

" * Mary,' said he, ' I have had a very curious dream lust now.
I dreamed that as I was going out to the baek lot with the ox-
cart, I found a large sum of money all in dollars in the road
there.*

" * Well,' says Mary, ' I wish it was true, John, but it is too
good news for us. The worriment we have had about money
lately has set you a dreaming. Janet sails on Monday, she will
soon be back, and then it wiU all be right ; so go to sleep again,
dear.'

" Well, in the morning, when he and his wife got up, he never
spoke or thought any more about the dream, but as soon as
breakfast was over, he and his man yoked up the oren, put them
to the cart, and lifted the harrow into it, and started for the
field. The Bervont drove the team, and John walked behind with

."%

A NEW WAY TO LEARN G.VELIC.

his head down, a turning over in his mind whether he couldn't
sell something off the farm to keep matters a-goin' till I should
return, when all at once, as they were passing through the wood,
he observed that there was a line of silver dollars turned up by
one of the wheels of the cart, and continued for the space of
sixty feet and theu ceased.

" The moment he saw the money he thought of his dream,
and he was so overjoyed that he was on the point of calling out
to the man to stop, but he thought it was more prudent as they
were alone in the woods to say nothing about it. So he walked
on, and joined the driver, and kept him in talk for a while. And
then, as if he had suddenly thought of something, said, * Jube,
do you proceed to the field and go to work till I come. I shall
have to go to the house for a short time.'

" "Well, as soon as he got out of sight of the cart, off he ran
home as hard as he could lay legs to it, only stopping to take up
a handful of the coins to make sure they were real.

" ' Mary, Mary,' sais he, ' the dream has come true ; I have
found the money — see here is some of it ; there is no mistake ; '
and he threw a few pieces down on the hearth and rung them
' They are genuine Spanish crowns. Do you and Janet bring
the market-basket, while I go for a couple of hoea, and let us
gather it all up.'

" Well, sure enough, when we came to the place he men-
tioned, there was the wheel-track full of dollars. He and I hoed
each side of the rut, which seemed to be in a sort of yellow pow-
der, like the dust of rotten wood, and got out all we could find.
We afterwards tried under the opposite wheel, and behind and
before the rut, but could find no more, and when we got home
we counted it, and found we had eighty-two pounds, five shil-
lings.

" ' Well, this is a God-send, Mary, ain't it ? ' said brother ;
and she threw her arms round his neck, and cried for joy as she
kissed him.*'

" Which way," said I, " show me, Miss, how she did it, only
yo'i may laugh instead of cry if you like."

" Not being a wife," said she, with great quickness, " I can-
not show you myself, but you may imagine it, it will do just as
well, or dream it, and that will do better.

" Well, John was a scrupulous man, and he was determined
to rcRtore the money, if he could find an owner for it ; but he
could hear of no one who had lost any, nor any tradition in that
place that any one ever had done so since the first settlement of
the country. All that he could discover was, that about forty
■s ears before, an old Frenchman had lived somewhere thereabouts

A NEW WAY TO LKARN GAEUC.

only

■nined
ut he
that
entof
forty-
bouts

alone, in the midst of the woods. AV^ho he was, or what became
of him, nobody knew ; all he eoiihl hear was, tlmt a party of
lumbermen had, some years afterwards, found his house amidst
a second growth of young wood that wholly concealed it, and
that it contained his furniture, cooking utensils, and trunks, aa
he had left them. Some supposed he had been devoured by bears
or wolves ; others, that he had been lost in the woods ; and some,
that he had died by his own hands.

" On hearing this, John went to examine his habitation, or
the remains of it, and he found that about four acres around it
were covered with the second growth, as it is called, which was
plainly to be distinguished from the forest, as the trees were not
only not so large or so old as the neighbouring ones, but, as is
always the case, were of a different description of wood altoge-
ther. On a careful inspection of the spot where he foimd the
money, it appeared that the wheel had passed lengthways along
an enormous old decayed pine, in the hollow of which he sup-
posed the money must have been hid ; and when the tree fell,
the dollars had rolled along its centre fifty feet or more, and re-
mained there until the wood was rotten, and had crumbled into
dust.

" There, Sir, there is my story ; it is a true one, I assure you,
for I was present at the time. AVhat do you think of it ? "

" Well," sais I, " if he had never heard a rumour, nor had
any reason to suppose that the money had been hid there, why
it was a sing^^dar thing, and looks very much like a—"

•' Like a what ? " said she.

" Like a supply that one couldn't count upon a second time,
that's all."

"It's a dream that was fidfiUed though," she said; "and
that don't often happen, does it ? " *

" Unless," sais I, " a young lady was to dream now that she
was a going to be married to a certain person, and that does
often come true. Do you — "

" Oh, nonsense," said she. " Come, do tell us your story
now, you know you promised me you would if I related mine."

" Yes," said Miss Jessie ; " come now, Mr Slick, that's a good
man, do ? "

Sais I, " Miss, I will give you my book instead, and that will
tell you a hundred of them."

" Yes, but when will you give it to me ? " she replied.

" To-morrow," said I, "as soon as I go on board. But mind,

• The names of the parsons and rivei are alone changed in this extraor-
dinary story. The actors are still living, and are persons of undoubted vera-
city and roip ictability.

A NEW WAY TO LEARN GAELIC.

there is one condition." And T said in Gaelic: " Feumieth tTiu
pog tlioir dhomh eur a shon (you must give me a kiss for it)."

" Oh," said she, lookin' not over pleased, I consaited ; but
perhaps it was because the other girls laughed liked anything,
as if it was a capital joke, " that's not fair, you said you would
give it, and now you want to sell it. If that's the case I will
pay the money for it."

" Oh, fie," sais I, " Miss Jessie."

"Well, I want to know!"

" No, indeed ; what I meant was to give you that book to
remember me by when I am far away from here, and I wanted
you to give me a little token, O do hhilean hoidheach (from your
pretty lips), that I should remember the longest day I live."

" You mean that you would go away, laugh, and forget right
off. No, that won't do, but if you must have a token I will look
lip some little keepsake to exchange for it. Oh, dear, what a
horrid idea," she said, quite scomey like, "to trade for a kiss;
it's the way father buys his fish, he gives salt for them, or flour,
or some such barter, oh, Mr Slick, I don't think much of you.
But for goodness gracious sake how did you learn Gaelic ? "

" From lips, dear," said I, " and that's the reason I shall never
forget it."

" No, no," said she, " but how on earth did jou ever pick it
up."

"I didn't pick it up. Miss," said I, "I kissed it up, and as
you want a story I might as well tell you that as any other."

" It depends upon what sort of a story it is," said she, co-
louring.

" Oh, ves," said the Campbell girls, who didn't appear quite
so skittish as she was, " do tell us. no doubt you will make a
funny one out of it. Come, begin."

Squire, you are older than I be, and I suppose you will think
all this sort of thing is clear sheer nonsense, but depend upon
it a kiss is a great mystery. There is many a ihing we know
that we can't explain, still we are sure it is a fa*t for all that.
"Why should there be a sort of magic in shaking hands, which
seems only a mere form, and sometimes a painful one too, for
some folks wring your fingers off" amost, and make you fairly
dance with pain, they hurt you so. It don't give much pleasure
at any time. What the magic of it is we can't tell, but so it is
for all that. It seems only a custom like bowing and nothing
else, still there is more in it than meets the eye. But a kiss
fairly electrifies you, it warms your blood and sets your heart a
beatin' like a brass drum, and makes your eyes twinkle like
stars in a frosty night. It tante a thing ever to be forgot. No

f f

A NEW WAY TO LEARN GAELIC.

language can expre88 it, no letters vnW give the sound. Then
what in natur is equal to the flavour of it ? "NV^hat an aroma it
has ! How spiritual it is ! It ain't gross, for you can't feed on
it ; it don't cloy, for the palate ain't required to test its taste. It
is neither visible, nor tangible, nor portable, nor transferable.
It is not a substance, nor a liquid, nor a vapour. It has neither
colour nor form. Imagination can't conceive it. It can't be
imitated or forged. It is confined to no clime or country, but
is ubiquitous. It is disembodied when completed, but is in-
stantly reproduced, and so is immortal. It is as old as the cre-
ation, and yet is as young and fresh as ever. It preexisted, still
exists, and always will exist. It pervades all natur. The breeze
as it passes kisses the rose, and the pendant vine stoops down
and hides with its tendrils its blushes, as it kisses the limpid
stream that waits in an eddy to meet it, and raises its tiny
waves, like anxious lips to receive it. Depend upon it Eve
learned it in Paradise, and was taught its beauties, virtues, and
varieties by an angel, there is something so transcendent in it.

How it is adapted to all circumstances ! There is the kiss of
welcome and of parting, the long-lingering, loving present one,
the stolen or the mutual one, the kiss of love, of joy, and of sor-
row, the seal of promise, and the receipt of fulfilment. Is it
strange therefore that a woman is invincible whose armoury
consists of kisses, smiles, sighs, and tears ? Is it any wonder
that poor old Adam was first tempted, and then ruined ? It is
very easy for preachers to get up with long faces and tell us he
ought to have been more of a man. My opinion is, if he had
been less of a man, it would have been better for him. But I
am not agoin' to preach ; so I will get back to my story ; but,
Stjiare, I shall always maintain to my dying day, that kissing
Lj a sublime mystery.

" Well," sais I, " ladies, I was broughten up to home, on my
father's farm, and my edecation, what little I had of it, I got
from the Minister of Slickville, Mr Joshua Hopewell, who was
a friend of my father's, and was one of the best men I believe
that ever lived. He was all kindness and all gentleness, and
was at the same time one of the most learned men in the United
States. He took a great fancy to me, and spared no pains with
my schooling, and I owe eveiything I have in the world to his
instruction. I didn't mix much with other boys, and, from liv-
ing mostly with people older than myself, acquired an old -fash-
ioned way that I have never been able to shake off yet ; all the
boys called me ' Old Slick.' In course, I didn't learn much of
life that way. All I knew about the world beyond our house
and hisin, was from book*?, and from hearing him talk, and he

A NEW WAY TO LE.VRN GAELIC.

convarsed better than any book I ever set eyes on. Well, in
course I grew up unsophisticated like, and I think I may say 1
was as innocent a young man as ever you see."

Oh, how they all laughed at that ! " You ever innocent ! "
said they. " Come, that's good ; we like that ; it's capital ! Sam
Slick an innocent boy ! Well, that must have been before you
were u'eaned, or talked in joining hand, at any rate. How sim-
ple we are, ain't we ?" and they laughed themselves into a hoop-
ing-cough amost.

" Fact, Miss Janet," said I, " I assure you " (for she seemed
the most tickled at the idea of any of them) " I was, indeed.
I won't go for to pretend to say some of it didn't rub off when
it became dry, when I was fishing in the world on my own hook ;
but, at the time I am speaking of, when I was twenty-one next
grass, I was so guileless, I couldn't see no harm in anything."

"So I should think," said she; "it's so like you."

" Well, at that time there was a fever, a most horrid typhus
fever, broke out in Slickville, brought there by some shipwrecked
emigrants. There was a Highland family settled in the town
the year afore, consisting of old Mr Duncan Chisholm, his wife,
and daughter Flora. The old people were carried off by the dis-
ease, and Flora was left without friends or means, and the worst
of it was, she could hardly speak a word of intelligible English.
Well, Minister took great pity on her, and spoke to father about
taking her into his house, as sister Sally was just married, and
the old lady left without any companion ; and they agreed to
take her as one of them, and she was in return to help mother
all she could, So, next day, she came, and took up hei' quarters
with us. Oh my, Miss Janet, vvhat a beautiful girl she was !
She was as tall as you are, Jessie, and had the same delicate lit-
tle feet and hands."

I threw that in on purpose, for women, in a general way,
don't like to hear others spoken of too extravagant, particularly
if you praise them for anything they hain't got ; but if you
praise them for anything they pride themselves on, they are satis-
fied, because it shows you estimate them also at the right valy,
too. It took, for she pushed her foot out a little, and rocked
it up and down slowly, as if she was rather proud of it.

" Her hair was a rich auburn, not red (I don't like that at
all, for it is like a lucifer-match, apt to go oflf into a flame spon-
tinaeiously sometimes), but a golden colour, and lots of it too,
just about as much as she could cleverly manage ; eyes like dia-
monds ; complexion, red and white roses ; and teeth, not quite
so regular as yours. Miss, but as white as them ; and lips — lick !
—they reminded one of a curl of rich rose-leaves, when the bud

A NEW WAY TO LEARN GAELIC.

first begins to swell mid spread out with a sort of peachy bloom
on them, ripe, rich, and chock lull of kisses."

" Oh, the poor ignorant boy !" said Junet, "you didn't know
nothing, did you ? "

*' Well, I didn't," sais J, " I was as innocent as a ch'M ; but
nobody is so ignorant as not to know a splendiferous gall wlien
he sees her," and I made a motion of my head to her, as much
as to say, " Put that cap on, for ' t just lits you."

" My sakes, what a neck she had ! not too long and thin, for
that looks goosey ; nor too short and thick, for that gives a
clumsy appearance to the figure ; but betwixt and between, and
perfection always lies there, just midway between extremes.
But her bust — oh ! the like never was seen in Slickv'^'e, for the
ladies there, in a gineral way, have no — "

"Well, well," said Jessie, a little snappish, for praisiu' one
gall to another ain't the shortest way to win their regard, " go
on with your story of Gaelic."

" And her waist, Jessie, was the most beautiful thing, next
to your'n, I ever see. It was as round as an apple, and any-
thing that is round, you know, is larger than it looks, and I
wondered how much it would measure. I never see such an in-
nocent girl as she was. Brought up to home, and in the coun-
try, like me, she knew no more about the ways of the world
than I did. She was a mere child, as I was ; she was only nine-
teen years old, and neither of us knew anything of society rules.
One day I asked her to let me measure her waist with my arm,
and I (fid, and then she measured mine with her'n, and we had
a great dispute which was the largest, and we tried several times
before we ascertained there was only an inch difference between
us. I never was so glad in my life as when she came to stay
with us ; she was so good-natured, and so cheerful, and so inno-
cent, it was quite charming.

" Father took a wonderful shindy to her, for even old men
can't help liking beauty. But, somehow, I don't think mother
did ; and it appears to me now, in looking back upon it, that
she was afraid I should like her too much. I consaited she
watched ua out of the comer of her glasses, and had her
ears open to hear what we said ; but p'raps it was only my
vanity, for I don't know nothin' about the working of a wo-
man's heart even now. I am only a bachelor yet, and how
in the world should I know anything more about any lady
than what I knew about poor Flora? In the ways of wo-
men I am still as innocent as a child ; I do believe that they
could persuade me that the moon is nothin' but an eight-da;
clock with an illuminated face. I ain't vain, I assure you, and

02 A NEW WAY TO LEARN GAEUC.

neyer brag of what I don't know, and I must say, I don't even
pretend to anderatand them."

"Well, I never!" said Jessie.

" Nor I," said Janet.

"Did you ever, now!" said Catherine. "Oh dear, how
soft you are, ain'« you ? '*

" Always was, ladies,'* said I, " and am still as soft as dough.
Father was very kind to her, but he was old and impatient, and
a little hard of hearing, and he couldn't half the iiiHQ under-
stand her. One day she came in with a message from neigh-
bour Dearbome, and sais she,

" * Father—;

" * Colonel, if you please, dear,' said mother, * he ia not your
father ;' and the old lady seemed as if she didn't half fancy any
body calling him that but her own children. Whether that is
natural or not. Miss Jessie," said I, " I don't know, for how
can I tell what women thinks ?"

" Oh, of course not," said Janet, " you are not wa3rwi8e, and
80 artless ; you don't know, of course ! "

"Exactly," sais I; "but I thought mother spoke kinder
cross to her, and it confused the gall.

" Gays Flora, * Colonel Slick, Mr Dearbome says — says — '
Well, she couldn't get the rest out ; she couldn't find the Eng-
lish. ' Mr Dearborne says — '

" * Well, what the devil does he say ? ' said father, stampin'
his foot, out of all patience with her.

" It frightened Flora, and off she went out of the room cry-
ing like anything.

" * That girl talks worse and worse,' said mother.

"'Well, I won't say that,' says father, a little mollified,
* for she can't talk at all, so there is no worse about it. I am
sorry though I scared her. I wish somebody would teach her
English.'

" ' I will,' sais I, 'father, and she shall teachme Gaelic in return.'

"'Indeed you shan't,' sais mother; 'you have got some-
thing better to do than larning her ; and as for Gaelic I can't
bear it. It's a horrid outlandish language, and of no earthly
use whatever under the blessed sun. It's worse than Indian.'

" ' Do, Sam,' said father ; ' it's an act of kindness, and she is
an orphan, and besides, Gaelic may be of great use to you in
life. I like Gaelic myself; we had some brave Jacobite High-
land soldiers in our army in the war that did great service, but
unfortunately nobody could understand them. And as for
orphans, when I think how many fatherless children we made
for the British — '

•■«

A NEW WAY TO LEARN OAEUC.

" ' You might have been better employed,* said mother, but
he didn't hear her, and went right on.

" ' I have a kindly feelin' towards them. She is a beautiful
girl that.'

" * If it wam't for her carrotty hair and freckled face,' said
mother, looking at me, * she would' 't be so awful ugly after all,
would she?'

" ' Yes, Sam,' sais father, * teach her English for heaven's
sake ; but mind, she must give you lessons in Gaelic. Lan-
guages is a great thing.'

" ' It's great nonsense,' said mother, raisin' her voice.

" ' It's my orders,' said father, holding up his head and
standing erect. *It's my orders, marm, and they muat be
obeyed;' and he walked out of the room as stiff as a ramrod,
and as grand as a Turk.

" * Sam,' sais mother, when we was alone, * let the gall be ; the
less she talks the more she'll work. Do you understand, my dear ? '

" ' That's just my idea, mother,' sais I.

" * Then you won't do no such nonsense, will you, Sommy ? '

"*0h no!' sais I, 'I'll just go through the form now and
then to please father, but that's all. Who the plague wants
Gaelic ? If all the Highlands of Scotland were put into a heap,
and then multiplied by three, they wouldn't be half as big as
the "White Mountains, would they, marm? They are just
nothin' on the map, and high hills, like high folks, are plaguy
apt to have barren heads.'

" ' Sam,' said she, a pattln' of me on the cheek, * you have
twice as much sense as your father has after all. You take
after me.'

" I was so simple, I didn't know what to do. So I said yes
to mother and yes to father ; for I knew I must honour and
obey my parents, so I thought I would please both. I made
up my mind I wouldn't get books to learn Gaelic or tearh
English, but do it by talking, and that I wouldn't mind father
seein' me, but I'd keep a bright look out for the old lady."

" Oh dear ! how innocent that was, wam't it ?" said they.

" Well, it was," said I ; " I didn't know no better then, and
I don't now ; and what's more, I think I would do the same
agin, if it was to do over once more."

" I have no doubt you would," said Janet.

" Well, I took every opportunity when mother was not by
to learn words. I woidd touch her hand and say, ' What is
that?' And she would say, ^ Lauch,^ and her arm, her head,
and her cheek, and she would tell me the names ; and her eyes,
her nose, and her chin, and so on ; and then I woidd touch her

.^^i

A NEW WAY TO LEARN GAELIC.

lips, and say, 'What's them ?' And she'd say, ^ Bhileau* And
then I'd kiss lier, and say, ' What's that ?' And she'd say, 'Po^.'
IJiit she was so artless, and so was I ; we didn't know that's not
usual nnh'ss people are eouruu ; for we hadn't seen anything of
the world then.

" Well, I used to p^o over that lesson every time I pot a
ohanee, and soon c^ot it all by heart but that word Fog (kiss),
which 1 never could remember. She said I .as ^'erv stupid, and
1 must say il over and over a<i;ain v 1 1 r , llec^'etl it. Well, it
was astonishiufj how (piick .she pit I' a v,,. Ent^lish, and what

e pu'''a ii.
j)rogros8 I made in Gaelic ; and it* it '' :; iir! been for mother,
who hated the language like pysou, I uu belie ./ T should soon
have mastered it so as to speak it as well as you do. But she
took every opportunity she could to keep us apart, and when-
ever I went into the room where Flora was spinning, or ironing,
she would either follow and take a chair, and sit me out, or send
me away of an en-and, or tell me to go and talk to father, who
was all alone in the parlour, and seemed kinder dull. I never
saw a person take such a dislike to the language as she did ; and
she didn't seem to like poor Flora either, for no other reason as
I could see under the light of the livin' sun, but because she
spoke it; for it was impossible not to love her — she was so
beautiful, so artless, and so interesting, and so innocent. But
so it was.

" Poor thing ! I pitied her. The old people couldn't make
out half she said, and mother wouldn't allow me, who was the
only person she could talk to, to have any conversation with her
if sne could help it. It is a bad thing to distrust young people,
it makes them artful at last ; and I really believe it had that
effect on me to a certain extent. The unfortunate girl often
had to set up late ironing, or something or another. And if
you will believe it now, mother never would let me sit up with
her to keep her company and talk to her ; but before she went
to bed herself, always saw me off to my own room. Well, it's
easy to make people go to bed, but it ain't just quite so easy to
mate them stay there. So when I used to hear the old lady
get fairly into hers, for my room was next to father's, though
we went by different stairs to them, I used to go down in my
stocking feet, and keep her company ; for I pitied her from my
heart. And then we would sit in the comer of the fire-place
and talk Gaelic half the night. And you can't think how plea-
sant it was. You laugh. Miss Janet, but it really was de-
lightful ; they were the happiest hours I almost ever spent."
" Oh, I don't doubt it," she said, " of course they were."
"If you think so, Miss," said I, "p'raps you would finish

A I^'EW WAY TO LEARN GAELIC.

iinish

the lessons with me this evening, if you have nothing particular
to do."

" Thank you, Sir." shv^ said, laughing like anything. " I can
speak English sufficient for my purpose, and I agree with your
mother, Gaelic in this country is of no sort of use whatever ;
at least I am so artless and unsophisticated as to think so.
But go on, Sir."

" Well, mother two or three times came as near as possible
catching me, for she was awful afraid of lights and fires, she
said, and couldn't sleep sound if the coals weren't covered up
with ashes, the hearth swept, and the broom put into a tub of
water, and she used to get up and pop into the room very sud-
den ; and though she wam't very light of foot, we used to be
too busy repeating words to keep watch as we ought."

" What an artless couple," said Janet ; " well I never ! how
you can have the face to pretend so, I don't know ! Well, you
do beat all!'

"A suspicious parent," sais I, "Miss, as I said before,
makes an artful child. I never knew what guile was before that.
Well, one night ; oh dear, it makes my heart ache to think of
it, it was the last we ever spent together. Flora was starching
muslins, mother had seen me off to my room, and then went to
hers, when down I crept in my stockin feet as usual, puts a
chair into the chimney comer, and we sat down and repeated
our lessons. When we came to the word Pog (kiss), I always
used to forget it ; and it's very odd, for it's the most beautilul
one in the language. We soon lost all caution, and it sounded
so loud and sharp it started mother ; and before we knew where
we were, we heard her enter the parlour which was next to us.
In an instant I was off and behind the entry door, and Flora
was up and at work. Just then the old lady came in as softly
as possible, and stood and surveyed the room all round. I could
see her through the crack of the door, she actually seemed dis-
appointed at not finding me there.

" ' What noise was that I heard, Flora ? ' she said, speakin' as
mild as if she was actilly afraid to wake the cat up.

"Flora lifted the centre of the muslin she was starching
with one hand, and makin' a hollow under it in the palm of the
other, she held it close up to the old woman's face, and clapped
it ; and it made the very identical sound of the smack she had
heard, and the dear child repeated it in quick succession several
times. The old lady jumped back the matter of a foot or
more, she '^o&itively looked skared, as if the old gentleman
would think somebody was a kissin' of her.

" Oh dear, I thought I should have teeheed right out. She

U(T

A NEW WAV TO LEARN GAELIC.

BPemcd utterly confounded, aid Flora looked, as she was, the
dear critter, so artless and innocent ! It dumbfoundered her
completely. Still she warn't qui^^s satisfied.

** What's this chair doing so fai in the chimbley comer?*
said she.

" Ho'.f glad I was there wam't two tiiere. The fact is, we
never used but one, M-e was quite young, and it was always big
enough for us both.

" Flora talked Gaelic as fast as hail, slipt off her shoes, sat
down on it, put her feet to the fire, folded her arms across her
bosom, laid her head back and looked so sweet and so winnin'
into mother's face, and said, * cha n'eil Beurl ' (I have no
English), and then proceeded in Gaelic —

" ' If you hadn't sat in that place yourself, when you was
young, I guess you wouldn't be so awful scared at it, you old
goose yon.*

" I thought I never saw her look so lovely. Mother was not
quite persuaded she was wrong after all. She looked all round
agin, as if she was sure I was there, and then came towards the
door where I was, so I sloped up-stairs like a shadow on the
wall, and into bed in no time ; but she followed up and came
close to me, and holdin the candle in my face, said :

" * Sam, are you asleep ?'

" Well, I didn't answer.

" * Sam,' said she, 'why don't you speak ?' and she shook me.

"'Hullo,' sais I, pretendin' to wake up, 'what's the matter!
have I overslept myself? is it time to get up ?' and I put out
my arm to rub my eyes, and lo and behold I exposed my coat
sleeve.

" ' No, Sam,' said she, * you couldn't oversleep yourself, for
you haven't slept at all, you ain't even ondressed.'

" ' Ain't I,' said I * are you sure ?'

" ' Why look here,' said she, throwin down the clothes and
pullin' my coat over my head till she nearly strangled me.

" ' Well, I shouldn't Avonder if I hadn't stripped,' sais I.
* When a feller is so peskUly sleepy as I be, I suppose he is
glad to turn in any way.'

"She never spoke another word, but I saw a storm was
brewin, and I heard her mutter to herself, ' Creation ! what n
spot of work ! I'll have no teaching of ' mother tongue ' here.'
Next morning she sent me to Boston of an errand, and when I
returned, two days after. Flora was gone to live with sister
Sally. I have never forgiven myself for that folly ; but really
it all came of our being so artless and so innocent. There w^as
no craft in either of us. She forgot to remove the chair from

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

the cliiiTibley comer, poor Bimple-minded thing, and I forpot to
keej) my coat sleeve covered. Yes, yes, it nil came of our being
too innocent ; but that's the way, ladies, I learned Gaelic."

CHAPTER YI.

!S and

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEABT.

Wit F.N I took leave of the family I returned to the room
where I had left Peter and the doctor, but they had both re-
tired. And as my chamber adjoined it, I sat by the lire, lighted
a cigar, and fell into one of my rambling meditations.

Here, said I to myself, is another phase of life. Peter is at
once a Highlander, a Canadian, a trapper, a backwoodsman, and
a coaster. His daughters are half Scotch and half Indian, and
have many of the peculiarities of both races. There is even
between these sisters a wide difference in intellect, appearance,
and innate refinement. The doctor has apparently abandoned
his profession for the study of nature, and quit the busy
haunts of men for the solitude of the forest. He seems to
think and act differently from any one else in the country.
Here too we have had Cutler, who is a scholar and a skilful
navigator, filling the berth of a master of a fishing craft. He
began life with nothing but good principles and good spirits,
and is now about entering on a career, which in a few years
will lead to a great fortune. He is as much out of place where
he is, as a salmon would be in a horse pond. And here am I,
Squire, your humble servant, Sam Slick the Clockmaker, not
an eccentric man, I hope, for I detest them, they are either
mad, or wish to be thought so, because madness they suppose
to be an evidence of genius ; but a specimen of a class not un-
common in the States, though no other country in the world
but Tankeedoodledum produces it.

This is a combination these colonies often exhibit, and what
a fool a man must be when character is written in such largo
print, if he can't read it even as he travels on horseback.

Of all the part}'- assembled here to-night, the Scotch lasses
alone, who came in during the evening, are what you call every-
day galls. They are strong, hearty, intelligent, and good-natured,
full of fun and industry, can milk, chiun, make butter and
cheese, card, spin, and weave, and will make capital wives for

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

fftrmers of their own strtion in life. As such, they nre fiivour-
bI)1o repn'Bcntatives of their clasH, and to my mind, far, far
above those that look down upon them, who ape, but ean't
copy, and have the folly, because they sail in the wake of larj-ier
craft, to suppose they can be mistaken for anything else than
tenders, rutting three masts into a coaster may make her an
obiect of ridicule, but can never give her the appearance of a
ship. They know this in England, they have got to learn it
yet in the Provinces.

Well, this miscellaneous collection of people affords a wide
field for speculation. Jessie is a remarkable woman, I must
ask the doctor about her history. I see there is a depth of
feeling about her, a simplicity of character, a singular sensi-
tiveness, and a shade of melancholy. Is it constitutional, or
does it arise from her peculiar position ? I wonder how she
reasons, and what she thinks, ana how she would talk, if she
would say what she thinks. Has she ability to build up a
theory ot her own, or does she, like half the women in the
world, only think of a thing as it occurs ? Does she live in in-
stances or in generalities, I'll draw her out and see. Every
order, where there are orders, and every class (and no place is
without them where women are), have a way of judging in
common with their order or class. What is her station I wonder
in her own opinion ? What are her expectations ? What are
her notions of wedlock ? All girls regard marriage as an en-
Tiable lot, or a necessary evil. If they tell us they don't, it's
because the right man hante come. And therefore I never
mind what they say on this subject. I have no doubt they
mean it ; but tney don't know what they are a talking about.

You, Squire, may go into a ball-room, where there are two
hundred women. One hundred and ninety-nine of them you
will pass with as much indifference as one hundred and nineLy-
nine pullets ; but the two himdredth irresistibly draws you to
her. There are one hundred handsomer, and ninety-nine clev-
erer ones present ; but she alone has the magnet that attracts
you. Now, what is that magnet ? Is it her manner that charms ?
18 it her voice that strikes on one of those thousand and one
chords of your nervous system, and makes it vibrate, as sound
does hollow glass ? Or do her eyes affect your gizzard, so that
you have no time to chew the cud of reflection, and no oppor-
tunity for your head to judge how you can digest the notions
they have put into it ? Or is it animal magnetism, or what the
plague is it ?

You are strangely affected ; nobody else in the room is, and
everybody wonders at you. But so it is. It's an even chance

TIIK WOUNDS OP THE HEART.

if yo\i don't pcquitrate matrimony. "Well, that*i a thing that
sharponH the eyesight, and will remove a cataract quicker than
an oculiHt can, to save his soul alive. It metnmoq)hose8 an
angel into a woman, and it's plaguey lucky if the process don't
go on and change her into something else.

After I got 90 far in my meditations, I lit another cigar, and
took out my watch to loolc at the time. " My eyes," sais I,
" if it tante past one o'clock at night. Howsomever, it ain't
often I get a chance to be alone, and I will finish this here weed,
at any rate." Arter which I turned in. The following morn-
ing I did not rise as early as usual, for it's a great secret for a
man never to be in the way, especially in a house like Peter's,
where his daughters had, in course, a good deal to see to them-
selvea. So I thought I'd turn over and take another snoose ;
and do you know, Sjjuire, that is always a dreamy one, and if
your mind ain't worried, or your digestion askew, it's more nor
probable you will have pleasant ones.

AVhen I went into the keeping-room, I found Jessie and her
sister there, the table set, and everything prepared for me.

"Mr Slick," said the elder one, " your oreakfast is ready."

" But where is your father ?" said I, " and Doctor Ovey ? "

" Oh, they have gone to the next harbour, Sir, to see a man
who is very ill there. The doctor left a message for you, he
said be wanted to see you again very much, and hoped to find
you here on his return, which will be about four o'clock in the
afternoon. He desired me to say, if you sailed before he got
back, he hoped you would leave word what port he would find
you in, as he would follow you."

"Oh," said I, "we shall not go before to-morrow, at the
earliest, so he will be in very good time. But who in the world
is Doctor Ovey ? He is the most singular man I ever met. He
is very eccentric ; ain't he ?"

"1 don't know who he is," she replied. "Father agrees
with you. He says he tolkt sometimes as if he was daft, but
that, I believe, is only because he is so learned. He has a house
a way back in the forest, where he lives occasionally ; but the
greater part of the year he wanders about the woods, and camps
out like — ."

She hesitated a moment, and then brought out the reluctant
word : " an Indian. He knows the name of every plant and
flower in the country, and their uses ; and the nature of every
root, or bark, or leaf that ever was ; and then he knows all the
ores, and coal mines, and everything of that kind. He is a great
hiind for stufiBng birds and animals, and has 8on:e of every kind
there is in the province. As for butterflies, beetles, and those

THE WOUNDS OF THE HiiART.

sort of things, he will chase them like a child all day. His

house is a regular . I don't recollect the word in English ;

in Gaelic it is ' tigh neonachais.* "

"Museum?" said I.

" Ah, that's it," said she.

" Ho can't have much practice," I said, " if he govs racing
and chasing over the country that way, like a run-away engine."

" He don't want it. Sir," she replied, " he is s-ery well off.
He says he is one of the richest men m the country, for he don't
spend half his income, and that any man who does that is
wealthy. He says he ain't a doctor. Whether he is or not, I
don't know ; but he makes wonderful cures. Nothing in the
world makes him so angry as when anybody sends for him that
can afford a doctor, for ne don't take pay. Now, this morning
he stormed, and raved, and stamped, and foamed at the mouth,
as if he was mad ; he fairly swore, a thing I never heard him do
before ; and he seized the hammer that he chips off stones with,
and threatened the man so who come for him, that he stood with
the door in his hand, while he begged him to go.

" * Oh, Sir,' said he, 'the Squire will die if you don't go.'

" * Let him die, then,* he replied, * and be hanged. "What is
it to me ? It serves him right. Why didn't he send for Doctor
Smith, and pay him ? Does he think I am a going to rob that
man of his Hvmg ? Be off. Sir., off with you. TeU him I can't
come, and won't come, and do you go for a magistrate to make
his will.'

" As soon as the man quitted the house, his fit left him.

" • Well,' said he, ' Peter, I suppose we musn't let the man
perish after all ; but I wish he hadn't sent for me, especially
just now, for I want to have a long talk with Mr Slick.'

" A id be and father set off immediately through the woods."

"Svppose we beat up his quarters," said I, "Jessie. I
phould iike to see his house and collection, amazingly."

'Oh," said she, "so should I, above ail things; but I
wouldn't ask him for the world. He'll do it for you, I know he
will ; for he says you are a man after his own heart. Tou study
nature so ; and I don't know what all, he said of you."

" Well, well," sais I, " old trapper as he is, see if I don't
catch him. I know how to bait the trap ; so he will walk right
into it. And then, if he has anything to eat there, I'll show
him how to cook it woodsman fashion. I'll teach him how to
dress a salmon; roast, boil, or bake. How to make a bee-
hunter's mess ; a new way to do his potatoes camp fashion ; and
how to dispense with kitchen-ranges, cabouses, or cooking-stoves.
If I could only knock over some wild-ducks at the lake here, I'd

THE WUl'NDS OF THK HEAKT.

right
show

show him a simple way of preparinj]; them, that wouhl make his
mouth water, I Know. Truth is, a man that lives in the country
ought to know a little of everything a'most, and he can't be
comfortable if he don't. But dear me, I must be a movin."

So I made her a bow, and she made me one of her best
courtseys. And I held out my hand to her, but she didn't take
it, though I see a smile playin' over her face. The fact is, it is
just as well she didn't, for I intended to draw her — . AVell, it
ain't no matter what I intended to do ; and therefore it ain't
no use to confess what I didn't realise.

" Truth is," said I, lingering a bit, not to look disappointed,
" a farmer ought to know what to raise, how to live, and where
to save. If two things are equally good, and one costs money,
and the other only a little trouble, the choice ain't difficult, ia
it?"

" Mr Slick," sais she, " are you a fanner ? "

" I was bred and bom on a farm, dear," sais I, " and on one,
too, where nothin' was ever wasted, and no time ever lost ; where
there was a place for everything, and everything was in its place.
Where peace and plenty reigned ; and where there was a shot
in the locker for the minister, and another for the poor, and — "

" You don't mean to say that you considered them game^ did
you?" said she, looking archly.

" Thank you," sais I. " But now you are making game of
me, Miss ; that's not a bad hit of yours though ; and a shot for
the bank, at the eend of the year. I know all abouc farm
things, from raisin' Indian com down to managing a pea-hen ;
the most difficult thing to regulate next to a wife, I ever see."

" Do you live on a farm now ? "

" Yes, when I am to home," sais I, " I have returned again
to the old occupation and the old place ; for, after all, what's
bred in the bone, you know, is hard to get out of the flesh, and
home is home, however homely. The stones, and the trees, and
the brooks, and the hills look like old friends — don't you think
so?"

"I should think so," she said; "but I have never returned
to my home or my people, and never shall." And the tears
rose in her eyes, and she got up and walked to the window, and
said, with her back towards me, as if she was looking at the
weather : " The doctor has a tine day for his journey ; I hope
he will return soon. I think you will like him."

And then she came back and took her seat, as composed as
if I had never awakened those sad thoughts. Poor thing! I
knew what was passing in her mind, as well as if those eloquent
tears had not touched my heart. Somehow or another, it appears

}

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

to me, like a stumblin' horse, I am always a-striking mv foot
agin some stone, or stamp, or root, that any fellow might see
with half an eye. She forced a smile, and said :

" Are you married, Sir?"

" Married," sais I, " to be sure I am ; I married Flora."

"You must think me as innocent as she was, to believe
that," she said, and laughed at the idea. " How many children
have you?"

" Seven," sais I :

" Richard R., and Ira C,
Betsey Anne, and Jessie B.,
Sary I)., Bugeen — E,
And Iren — ee."

" I have heard' a great deal of you, Mr Slick," she said,
" uut you are the queerest man I ever see. You talk so seri-
ous, and yet you are so full of fun."

" That's because I don't pretend to nothin', dear ; " sais I,
" I am just a nateral man. There is a time for all things, and
a way to do 'em too. If I have to freeze down solid to a thing,
why then, ice is the word. If there is a thaw, then fun and
snow-ballin' is the ticket. I listen to a preacher, and try to be
the better for his argufying, if he has any sense, and will let
me ; and I listen to the violin, and dance to it, if it's in tune,
and played right. I like my pastime, and one day in seven is
all the Lord asks. Evangelical people say he wants the other
six. Let them state day and date and book and page for that,
for I won't take their word for it. So I won't dance of a Sun-
day ; but show me a pretty gall, and give me good music, and
see if I don't dance any other day. I am not a droll man,
dear, but I say what I think, and do what I please, as long as
I know I ain't saying or doing wrong. And if that ain't poetry,
it's truth, that's all."

" I wish you knew the doctor," said she ; " I don't under-
stand these things, but you are the only ir^an I ever met that
talked like him, only he hante the fun you liave ; but he enjoys
fun beyond everything. I must say I rather like him, though
he is odd, and I am sure you would, for you could comprehend
many things he sais that I don't."

" It strikes me," sais I to myself, for I thought^ puttin'
this and that together ; " her rather Ukin' him, and her desire
to see his house, and her tryin' to flatter me that I talked like
him ; that perhaps, like her young Graelic friend's brother who
dreamed of the silver dollars, she might have had a dream of him."

So, saio I, "I have an idea, Jessie, that there is a subject,
if he talked to you upon, you could understand."

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

im.

" Oh, nonsense," said she, riain^^ and laughing, " now do you
go on board and get me your book ; and I vnW go and see about
dinner for the Doc — for my father and you."
Well, I held out my hand, and said,

" Good-morning, Miss Jessie. Recollect, when I bring you
the book that you must pay the forfeit."

She dropt my hand m a minute, stood up as straight as a
tragedy actress, and held her head as high as the Queen of
Shebv. She gave me a look I shan't very easily forget, it was
so full of scorn and pride.

" And 1/ou too. Sir," said she, " I didn't expect this of you,"
and then left the room.

"Hullo!" sais I, "who's half-cracked now; you or the
doctor ? it appears to me it's six of one and "half-a-dozen of the
other ;" and I took my hat, and walked down to the beach and
hailed a boat.

About four I returned to the house, and brought with me,
as I promised, the " Clockmaker." When I entered the room,
I found Jessie there, who received me with her usual ease and
composure. She was trimming a work-bag, the sides of which
were made of the inner bark of the birch-tree, and beautifully
worked with porcupine quills and moose hair.

" Well," sais I, " that is the most delicate thing I ever saw
in all my born days. Creation, how that would be prized in
Boston ! How on earth did you learn to do that ?" sais I.

" Why," said she, with an effort that evidently cost her a
struggle, " my people make and barter them at the Fort at the
north-west for things of more use. Indians have no money."

It was the first time I had heard so distinct an avowal of
her American origin, and as I saw it brought the colour to her
face, I thought I had discovered a clue to her natural pride, or,
more properly, her sense of the injustice of the world, which is
too apt to look down upon this mixed race with open or ill-con-
cealed contempt. The scurvey opens old sores, and makes them
bleed afresh, and an unfeeling fellow does the same. Whatever
else I may be, I am. not that man, thank fortune. Indeed, I am
rather a dab at dressin' bodily ones, and I won't turn my back
in that line, with some simples I know of, on any doctor that
ever trod in shoe-leather, with all his compounds, phials, and
stipties.

In a gineral way, they know just as much about their busi-
ness as a donkey does of music, and yet both of them practise
all day. They don't make no improvements. They are like the
birds of the air, and the beasts of the forest. Swallows build
their nests year after year and generation after generation iu

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

the identical same fashion, and

rinter after winter, and

moose

century after century, always follow in each other's traeks. They
consider it safer, it ain't so laborious, and the crust of the snow
don't hurt their shins. If a critter is such a fool as to strike
out a new path for himself, the rest of the herd pass, and leave
him to worry on, and he soon hears the dogs in pursuit, and is
run down and done for. Medical men act in the same manner.

Brother Eldad, the doctor, used to say to me when riggiu'
him on the subject :

"Sam, you are the most conceited critter I ever knew.
You have picked up a few herbs and roots, that have some virtue
in them, but not strength enough for us to give a place to in
the phannacopia of medicine."

" Phannacopia ? " sais I, " why, what in natur is that ? What
the plague does it mean? Is it bunkum?"

" You had better not talk on the subject," said he, " if you
don't know the tarms."

" You might as well tell me," sais I, " that I had b-jtter not
speak English if I can't talk gibberish. But," sais I, *' without
joking, now, when you take the husk off that, and crack the nut,
what do you call the kernel ?"

" Why," sais he, "it's a dispenwary ; a book containin' rules
for compoundin' medicines."

" Well then, it's a receipt-book, and nothin' else, arter all.
Why the plague can't you call it 8oatonce,inst.3ad of usin' a
word that would break the jaw of a Grerman?"

" Sam," he replied, "the poet says with great truth,

" ' A little learning is a dangerous thing ;

Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.' "

" Dear, dear," said I, " there is another strange sail hove in
sight, as I am alive. What flag does ' Pierian' sail under?"

" The magpies," said he, with the air of a man that's a goin'
to hit you hard. " It is a spring called Pierus after a gentle-
man of that name, whose daughters, that were as conceited as
you be, w^ere changed into magpies by the Muses, for challeng-
ing them out to sing. All pratin' fellows like you, who go
about runnin' dv;wn doctors, ought to be sarved in the same
way."

"A critter will never !)€ lun down," said I, "who will just
take the trouble to j4et out of the w^ay, that's a fact. Wliy on
airth couldn't the poe'; ha;- e said Magpian Spring, then all the
"World would un«ler * m'^ him. TTo, the iines would have hf.l
more sense if tl e^ hid nin this way ;

" ' A liitio y'u 'sic i."' a -li^ngerous thint;;

Driuk deej., or *'i".c\ ijot of the doctor's spring.' "

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

all.

Well, it made him awful mad. Saia h , "You talk of treating
wounds as all unskilful men do, who apply balsams and trash
of that kind, that half the time turns the wound into an ulcer ;
and then when it is too ]• ►te the doctor is sent for, and some-
times to get rid of the sore, he has to amputate the limb. Now,

what does your receipt book say ? "
"It Bais,"8ai8l, "<■

' that natur alone makes the cure, and all
you got to do, is to stand by and aid her in her eiforts."

" That's all very well," sais he, " if nature would only tell
you what to do, but nature leaves you, like a Yankee quack as
you are, to guess."

" Well," saia I, " I am a Yankee, and I ain't above ownin'
to it, and so are you, but you seem ashamed of your broughtena
up, and I must say I don't think you are any great credit to
them. Natur, though vou don't know it, because you are all
^"»r art, does tell you what to do, in a voice so clear you can't
'i-lp hearing it, and in language so plain you can't help un-
)erstandin' it. For it don't use cham-shot words like ' phar-
niacopia ' and ' Pierian,' and so on, that is neither Greek nor
Latin, nor good English, nor vulgar tongue. And more than
that, it shows you what to do. And the woods, and the springs,
and the soil is full of its medicines and potions. Book doctrin'
is ]iUe book farmin', a beautiful thing in theory, but ruination
in practice."

" Well," . id he, with a toss of his head, " this is very good
stump oratory, and if you ever run agin a doctor at an election,
I she didn't wonder if you won it, for most people will join you
in pullin' down your superiors."

That word superiors grigged me ; thinks I, " My boy, I'll
just take that expression, roU it up into a ball, and shy it back
at you, in a way that will make you sing out ' Pen and ink,' I
know. Well," sais I, quite mild (I am always mild when I am
mad, a keen razor is always smooth), "have you any other
thing to say about natur ? "

" Yes," sais he, " do you know what healin' by the^r*^ in-
tention isy for that is a nateral operation ? Answer me that, will
you?"

" You mean the second intention, don't you ? " sais I.

" No," he replied, " I mean what I say."

"Well, Eldad," sais I, "my brother, I will answer both.
First about the election, and then about the process of healin',
and after that we won't argue no more, for you get so hot al-
ways, I am afraid you will hurt my feelins. First," sais I, " I
have no idea of runnin' agin a doctor either at an election or
elsewhere, so make yourself quite easy on that score, for if I

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

did, as he is my superior, I should be sure to get the worst
of it."

" How," said he, " Sam ? " lookin' quite pleased, seein' me
kinder knock under that way.

" Why dod drot it," sais I, " Eldad, if I was such a bom
fool as to run agin a doctor, his clothes would fill mine so chock
full of asafoetida and brimstone, I'd smell strong enough to
pysen a poll-cat. Phew ! the very idea makes me sick ; don't
come any nearer, or I shall faint. Oh, no, I shall give my
superiors a wide berth, depend upon it. Then," sais I, " second-
ly, as to healin' by the first intention, I have heard of it, but
never saw it practised yet. A doctor's first intention is to make
money, and the second is to heal the wound. You have been
kind enough to treat me to a bit of poetry, now I won't be in
your debt, so I will just give you two lines in return. Arter
you went to Philadelphia to study. Minister used to make me
ieani poetry twice a week. All his books had pencil marks in
the margin agin all the tid bits, and I had to learn more or less
of these at a time according to their length ; among others I re-
member two verses that just suit you and me.

" * To tongue or pudding thoti hast no pretence,
Learning ihy talent us, but mine is sense.' "

"^ Sam." said he, and he coloured up, ana looked choked with
rage, " Sam."

" Dad," sais I, and it stopped him in a n mute. It was the
last syllable of his name, and when we v. is boys, I always called
him Dad, and as he was older than me, I sometimes called him
Daddy on that account. It touched him, I see it did. Sais I,
" Dad, give me your daddle, fun is fun, and we may carry our
fan too far/' and we shook hands. "Daddy," sais I, " since I
became an i uthor, and honorary corresponding member of the
Slangwhanger Society, your occupation and mine ain't much
unlike, is it ? "

"How?" said he.

" Why, Dad," sais I, " you cut up the dead, and I cut up
the livin."

" Well," sais he, " I give less pain, at any rate, and besides,
I do more good, for I make the patient leave a legacy to poster-
ity, by furnishing instruction in his own body."

" You don't need to T7ait for dissection for the bequest," said
I, " for many a fellow after amputation has said to you, ' a-leg-
1-see.'' But why is sawing off a leg an unprofitable thing ? Do
you ijive it up ? "Because it's always bootless.'^

" Well," said he, " why is an author the laziest man in the

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEAKT.

the

world ? Do yon give that up ? Because he is most of his time
in sheets."

" Well, that is hetter than being two sheets in the wind," 1
replied. " But why is he the greatest coward in creation in hot
weather? Because he is afraid somebody wdll quilt him."

" Oh, oh," said he, " that is an awful bad one. Oh, oh, that
is like lead, it sinks to the bottom, boots, spurs, and all. Oh,
come, that will do, you may take my hat. W hat a droll fellow
you be. You are the old sixpence, and nothin' will ever chanijje
you. I never see a feller have such spirits in my life ; do you
know what pain is P "

" Oh," sais I, "Dad," and I put on a very sad look, " Dad-
dy," sals I, " my heart is most broke, though I don't sav any-
thin' about it. There is no one I can confide in, and 1 can't
sleep at all. I was thinkin' of consuWn' you, for I know I can
trust you, and I am sure your kind and affectionate heart will
feel for me, and that your sound, excellent judgment will advise
me what is best to be done under the peculiar circumstances."

" Sam," said he, " my good fellow, you do me no more than
justice," and he took my hand very kindly, and sat down beside
me. " Sam, 1 am very sorry for you. Confide in me ; I will
be as secret as the grave. Have you consulted dear old
Minister ? "

" Oh, no," said I, " Minister is a mere child."

" True, true, my brother," said he, " he is a good worthy
man, but a mere child, .is you say. Is it an afiair of the heart,
Sam?"

" Oh, no," sais I, " I wish it was, for I don't think I shall
ever die of a broken heart for any one, it don't pay."

" Is it a pecuniary atlair ? "

" No, no, if it wac? ill- migl\t be borne, an artful dodge, a good
spekelation, or a regular hurst would soon cure that."

" I hope it ain't an affair of law," said he, lookin' frightened
to death, as if I had done something dreadful bad.

" No, I wish it was, for a misnomer, an alibi, a nonjoinder,
a demurrer, a nonsuit, a freemason or a know-nothin' sign to a
juror, a temperance wink, or an orange nod to a partisan judge,
or some cussed quirk or quibble or another, woidd carry me
through it. No, it ain't that."

" What is it then ? "

" Why," sais I, a bustin' out a larfin, " I am most dead
sometimes with the jumpin toothache."

" Well, well," said he. " I never was sold so before, I vow ;
I cave in, I hoUer, and will stand treat."

That's the way we ended our controversy about wounda.

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

But he may say what he likes, I consider myself rather a
dah at healing bodily ones. As to those of the heart, I haven't
had the experience, for I am not a father confessor to galls, and
of course ain't consulted. But it appears to me clergymen don't
know much about the right way to treat them. The heart is a
great word. In itself it's nothin' but a thing that swells and
contracts, and keeps the blood a movin ; a sort of central post-
office that communicates with all the great lines and has way
stations to all remote parts. Like that, there is no sleep in it
day or night. Lov^ hope, fear, despair, disappointment, ambi-
tion, pride, supplicai-ion, craft, cant, fraud, piety, speculation,
secrets, tenderness, bitterness, duty, disobedience, truth, false-
hood, gratitude, humbug, and all sorts of such things, pass
through it or wait till called for ; they " are thar.^^ All these
are dispersed by railways, expresses, fast and slow coaches, and
carriers. By a figure of speech all these things are sumtotal-
ized, and if put on paper, the depository is called the post-office,
and the place where they are conceived and hatched and ma-
tured, lia heart.

Well, neither the one nor the other has any feeling. They
are merely the edifices respectively designed for these operations.
The thing and its contents are in one case called the heart ; but
the contents only of the other are called the mail. Literally
therefore the heart is a muscle, or some such an affair, and no-
thing more ; but figuratively it is a general term that includes,
expresses, and stands for all .hese things together. "We talk
of it therefore as a living, animated, responsible being that
thinks for itself, and acts through it" agents. It is either our
spiritual part, or something spiritual \vithin us. Subordinate
or independent of us — guiding or obeying us — influencing or
influenced by us. "We speak of it, and others treat it, as separ-
ate, for they and we say our heart. AVe give it, a colour and a
character ; it may be a black heart or a base heart ; it may be
a brave or a cowardly one ; it may be a sound or a weak heart
also, and a true or a false one ; generous or ungrateful ; kind or
malignant, and so on.

It strikes me natur would have been a more suitable word ;
but poets got hold of it, and they bedevil everything they
touch. Instead of speaking of a critter's heart therefore, it
would to my mind have been far better to have spoke of the
natur of the animal, for I go the whole hog for human natur.
But I suppose nobody would understand me if I did, and
would say I had no heart to say so. I'll take it therefore as I
find it — a thing having a body or substance that can be hurfi
and a spirit that can be grieved.

THE WOUNDS OF THE IIE^VRT.

AVell, as such, I don't somehow think ministers in a general
way know how to treat it. The heart, in its common accept-
ation, is very sensitive and must be handled gently ; if griet is
there, it must be soothed and consoled, and hope called in to
open views of better things. If disappointment has left a
Bting, the right way is to show a sufferer it might have been
wuss, or that if his wishes had been fulfilled, they might have
led to something more disastrous. If pride has been wounded,
the patient must be humoured by agreeing with him, in the
first instance, that he has been shamefully used (for that ad-
mits his right to feel hurt, which is a great thing) ; and then
he may be convinced he ought to be ashamed to acknowledge
it, for he is superior to his enemy, and in reality so far above
him it would only gratify him to think ho was of consequence
enough to be hated. If he has met with a severe pecuniary
loss in business, he ought to be told it's the fortune of trade ;
how lucky he is he ain't ruined, he can afford and must expect
losses occasionally. If he frets over it, it will hurt his mer-
cantile credit, and after all, he will never miss it, except in a
figure in the bottom of his balance-sheet, and besides, riches
ain't happiness, and how little a man can get out of them at
best ; and a minister ought to be able to have a good story to
tell him, with some point in it, for there is a great deal of
sound philosophy in a good anecdote.

He might say, for instance : " Did you ever hear of John
Jacob Astor?"

" No, never."

"What not of John Jacob Astor, the richest man in all
the unevarsal United States of America ? The man that owns
all the brown and white bears, silver-gray and jet-black foxes,
sables, otters, stone martins, ground squirrels, and every created
critter that has a fur jacket, away up about the North Pole,
and lets them wear them, for furs don't keep well, moths are
death on 'em, and too many at a time glut the market ; so he
lets them run till he Avants them, and then sends and skins
them alive in spring Vvhen it ain't too cold, and waits till it
grows again?"

" No, never," sais the man with the loss.

" Well, if you had been stript stark naked and turned loose
that way, you might have complained. Oh ! you are a luclcy
man, I can tell you."

" Well," sais old Minus, " how in the world does he own all
them animals?"

"If he don't," sais preacher, "perhaps you can tell me who
does ; and if nobody else does, I think his claim won't be dis-

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

puted in no court under heaven. Don't you know him ? Go
and see him. He will make your fortune as he has done for
many others. He is the richest man you ever heard of He
owns the Astor House Hotel to New York, which is bigger
than some whole towns on the Nova Scotia coast." And he
could say that with great truth, for I know a town that's on
the chart, that has only a court-house, a groggery, a jail, a
blacksmith's shop, and the wreck of a Quebec vessel on the
beach.

" Well, a man went to him lately, and sais he : * Are you
the great John Jacob ?'

*" I am John Jacob,' said he, * but I ain't great. The sun is
80 almighty hot here in New Tork, no man is large; he is
roasted down like a race-horse.*

" * I don't mean that,' said the poor man, bowin' and beggin'
pardon.

" ' Oh,' sais he, * vou mean great-grandfather,' laughing.
'No, I hante come that yet; but Astoria Ann Oregon, my
grand-daughter, says I am to be about the fore part of next
June.'

" Well, the man see he was getting rigged, so he came to
the pint at once. Sais he, * Do you want a clerk ?'

" ' I guess I do,' said he. * Are you a good accountant ?'

" * Have been accountant-book-keeper and agent for twenty-
five years,' sais stranger.

" Well, John Jacob see the critter wouldn't suit him, but
he thought he would carry out the joke. Sais he, * How would
you like to take charge of my almighty ev^erlastin' property?'

" ' Delighted ! ' says the goney.

" ' Well,' said Mr Astor, ' I am tired to death looking after
it ; if you will relieve me and do my work, I'll give you what I
get out of it myself.'

'• ' Done ! ' said the man, takin' off his hat, and bowin' dowTi
to the ground. * I am under a great obligation to you ; depend
upon it you will get a good account of it.'

" * I nave no doubt of it,' said John Jacob. * Do your part
faithfully ' (* Never fear me,' said the clerk) ' and honestly, and
I will fulfil mine. All I get out of it myself is my board and
clothing, and you shall have the same."

" An ! my friend," the preacher might say, " how much
wisdom tht re is in John Jacob Astor's remark. What more
has the Queen of England, or the richest peer in the land, out
of all their riches than ' their board and clothing.' So don't
repine, my friend. Cheer up ! I will come and fast on canvas-
back duck with you to-morrow, for it's Friday ; and whatever

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

lives on aquatic food is fishy — a duck is twice-laid fish. A fow
glasses of champaine at dinner, and a cool bottle or two of
claret after, will set you all right again in a jiffy."

If a man's wife races off and leaves him, which ain't the
highest compliment he can receive, he should visit him ; but it's
most prudent not to introduce the subject himself If broken-
heart talks of it, minister shouldn't make light of it, for
wounded pride is mighty tender, but say it's a dreadful thing
to leave so good, so kind, so indulgent, so liberal, so confidin' a
man aa you, if the case will bear it (in a general way it's a man's
own fault) ; and if it won't bear it, why then there really is a
guilty man, on whom he can indulge himself, to expend a few
flowers of speech. And arter restin' here awhile, he should
hint at the consolation that is always offered, "of the sea having
better fish than ever was pulled out of it," and so on.

Well, the whole catalogue offers similar topics, and if a man
will, while kindly, conscientiously, and strictly sticking to the
truth, offer such consolation as a good man may, taking care to
remember that manner is everything, and all these arguments
are not only no good, but do harm if the misfortunate critter is
rubbed agin the grain ; he will then prepare the sufferer to re-
ceive the only true consolation he has to offer — the consolation
of religion. At least, that's my idea.

Now, instead of that, if he gets hold of a sinner, he first of-
fends his delicacy, and the) . scares him to death. He tells him
to confess all the nasty particulars of the how, the where, the
when, and the who Ayith. He can't do nothing till his curiosity
ia satisfied, general terms wor 't do. He must have all the dirty
details. And then he talks to him of the devil, an unpronoun
cible place, fire and brimstone, aud endless punishment. And
assures him, if ever he hopes to be happy hereafter, he must be
wretched for the rest of his life ; for tne evangelical rule is, that
a man is never forgiven up to the last minute when it can't be
helped. Well, every man \o his own trade. Perhaps they are
right and I am wrong. But my idea is you can coax, but can't
bully folks. Tou can ivin sinners, hut you canH force them. The
door of the heart must he opened softly, and to do that you must
He the hinge and the lock.

Well, to get back to my story, and I hardly know where I
left off, I think the poor gall was speakin' of Indians in a way
that indicated she felt mortified at her descent, or that somehow
or somehow else, there was a sore spot there. Well, having my
own thoughts about the wounds of the heart and so on, as I have
stated, I made up my mind I must get at the secret by degrees,
and see whether my theory of treatment was right or not.

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THE WOUND.S OF THE HEART.

Sais I, " Miss, you say these sort of things are bartered at the
north-west for others of more use. There is one thing though
I must remark, they never were exchanged for anything half so
beautiful."

" I am glad you like it," she said, " but look here ; " and she
took out oi her basket a pair of mocassins, the soles of which
were of moob^ leather, tanned and dressed like felt, and the up-
per part black velvet, on which various patterns were worked
with beads. I think I never saw anything of the kind so ex-
quisite, for those nick-nacks the Nova Scotia Indians make are
rough in material, coarse in workmanship, and ineligant in de-
sign.

" Which do you prefer ? " said she.

"Well," sais I, "I ain't hardly able to decide. The bark
work is more deLcate and more tasteful ; but it's more European
in appearance. The other is more like our own country, and I
ain't sure that It isn't quite as handsome as the other. But I
think I prize the mocassins iiost. The name, the shape, and
the ornaments all tell of the prairie."

" Well, then," she said, " it shall be the mocassins, you must
have them, as the exchange for the book."

" Oh," said I, taking out of my pocket the first and second
" Clockmakers," I had no other of my books on board, and giving
them to her, " I am afraid, Miss, that I either said or did some-
thing to offend you this morning. I assure you I did not mean
to do so, and I am very sorry for it."

" No, no," she said, " it was me ; but my temper has been
greatly tried since I came to this country. I was very wrong,
for you (and she laid a stress on that word as if I was an excep-
tion) have been very kind to me."

" Well," sais I, " Miss, sometimes there are things that try
us and our feelings, that we don't choose to talk about to stran-
gers, and sometimes people annoy us on these subjects. It
wouldn't be right of me to pry into any one's secrets, but this I
will say, any person that would vex you, let him be who he will,
can be no man, he'd better not do it while I am here, at any
rate, or he'll have to look for his jacket very quick, I know."

" Mr Slick," she said, " I know I am half Indian, and some
folks want to make me feel it."

" And you took me for one o' them cattle," said I, " but if
you knew what was passin' in my mind, you wouldn't a felt
angry, / know."

" What was it ? " said she, " for I know you won't say any-
thing to me you oughtn't to. What was it ? "
/ " Well," sais I, " there is, between you and me, a young lady

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

here to the southern part of this province I have set my heart
on, though whether she is agoin' to give me hem, or give me the
mitten, 1 ain't quite sartified, but I rather kinder sorter guess
the tirst, than kinder sorter not so." I just throwed that in
that she mightn't misunderstand me. " Well, she is the most
splendiferous gall I ever sot eyes on since I was created ; and,"
sais I to myself, " now, here is one of a different style of beauty,
which on 'em is, take her all in all, the handsomest ? "

Half Indian or half Gaelic, or whatever she was, she was a
ivoman, and she didn't flare up this time, I tell you, but taking
up the work-bag she said :

" Give this to her, as a present from me."

Thinks I, "My pretty brunette, if I don't get the heart
opened to me, and give you a better opinion of yourself, and set
you all straight with mankind in general, and the doctor in
particular, afore I leave Ship Harbour, I'll give over for ever
undervalyin' the skill of ministers, that's a fact. That will do
for trial number one ; by and by I'll make trial number two."

Taking up the " Clockmaker," and looking at it, she aaid :
** Is this book all true, Mr Slick ? Did you say and do all that's
set down here?"

" "Well," sais I, " I wouldn't just like to swear to every word
of it, but most of it is true, though some things are embellished
a little, and some are fancy sketches. But they are all true to
nature."

" Oh, dear," said she, " what a pity ! how shall I ever be able
to tell what's true and what ain't ? Do you think I shall be
able to understand it, who know so little, and have seen so
Httle?"

"Tou'U comprehend every word of it," sais I, "I wrote it
on purpose, so every person should do so. I have tried to stick
to life as close as I could, and there is nothin' like natur, it goes
home to the heart of us all."

" Do tell me, Mr Slick," said she, " what natur is, for I don't
know."

Well, now that's a very simple question, ain't it ? and any-
one that reads this book when you publish it, will say, " Why,
everybody knows what natur is," and any schoolboy can answer
that question. But I'U take a bet of twenty dollars, not one in
a hundred will define that tarm right off the reel, without stop-
ping. It fairly stumpt me, and I ain't easily brought to a hack
about common things. I could a told her what natur was cir-
cumbendibusly, and no mistake, though that takes time. But
to define it briefly and quickly, as Minister used to say, if it can
be done at all, which I don't think it can, all I can say is as

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

galls say to conundnmui, " I can*t, bo I give it up. What is
itP"

Perhaps it's my own fiiult, for dear old Mr Hooewell used
to say, '* Sam, your head ain't like any one else's. Most men's
mindb resembles what appears on the water when you throw a
stone in it. There is a centre, and circles form round it, each
one a little larger than the other, until the impelling power
ceases to act. Now you set off on the outer circle, and go round
and round ever so often, until you arrive to the centre where
you ought to have started from at first ; I never see the beat oi
you."

"It's natur," sais I, "Minister."
' " Natur," sais he, " what the plague has natur to do with it ? "
" Why," sais I, " can one man surround a flock of sheep ? "
" Why, what nonsense," sais he ; " of course ht can't."
" Well, that's what this child can do," sais I. " I make a
cood sizeable ring-fence, open the bars, and p>ut them in, for if
it's too small, they turn and out agin like wink, and they will
never so much as look at it a second time. AVell, when I get
them there, I narrow and narrow the circle, till it's all solid
wool and mutton, and I have every mother's son of them. It
takes time, for I am all alone, and have no one to help me ;
but they are thar' at last. Now, suppose I went to the centre
of the field, and started off arter them, what would it end in ?
Why, I'de run one down, and have him, and that's the only one
I could catch. But whUe I was a chasin' of him, all the rest
would disperse like a congregation arter church, and cut off like
wink, each on his own way, as if he was a&aid the minister w^as
a-goin* to run after 'em, head 'em, and fetch 'em back and pen
'em up again."

He squirmed his face a little at that part about the congre-
gation, I consaited, but didn't say nothin', for he knew it was
true.

" Now, my reason," sais I, " for goin' round and round is, I
like to gather up all that's in the circle, carry it with me, and
stack it in the centre."

Lord! what fun I have had pokin' that are question of
Jessie's sudden to fellows since then ! Sais I to Brother Eldad
once —

" Dad, we often talk about natur ; what is it ?"
"Tut," sais he, "don't ask me; every fool knows what
natur is."

" Exactly," sais I ; " that's the reason I came to you."
He just up with a book, and came plaguy near lettin' me
have it right agin my head smash.

THE WOUNDS OP THE BEABT.

see

>ie.

" Don't do thaV* saia I, '' Daddy; I waa only joking; but
what is it?"

Well, he paused a moment and looked puzzled, as a fellow
does who is looking for his spectacles, and can't find them be-
cause he has shoved them up on his forehead.

" Why," sais he, spreadin* out his arm, " it's all that you see,
and the law that governs it."

Well, it wam't a bad shot that, for a first trial, that's a fact.
It hit the target, though it didn't strike the ring.

" Oh," said I, " then there is none of it at night, and things
can't be nateral in the dark."

Well, he seed he had run ofi* the track, so he braved it out.
" I didn't say it was necessary to see them all the time," he said.

" Just so," said I, " natur is what you see and what you don't

; but then feelin' ain't nateral at all. It strikes me that if — "

"Didn't I say," said he, "the laws that govern themP"

" Well, where are them laws writ ?"

" In that are receipt-book o' youm you're so proud of," said
" What do you call it, Mr wiseacre ?"

"Then, you admit," sais I, "any fool carCt answer that
question?"

" Perhaps you can," sais he.

" Oh Dad!" sais I, " you picked up that shot and throwed
it back. When a feller does that it shows he is short of ammu-
nition. But I'll tell you what my opinion is. There is no
such a thing as natur.'*

"What!" said he.

" Why there is no such a thing as natur in reality ; it is only
a figure of speech. The confounded poets got hold of the idea
and parsonined it as they have the word heart, and talk about
the voice of natur and its sensations, and its laws and its sim-
plicities, and all that sort of thing. The noise water makes in
tumblin' over stones in a brook, a splutterin' like a toothless old
woman scoldin' with a mouthful of not tea in her lantern cheek,
is called the voice of natur speaking in the stream. And when
the wind blows and scatters about all the blossoms from your
fpuit trees, and you are a ponderin' over the mischief, a gall
comes along-side of you with a book of poetry in her hand and
sais :

" * Hark ! do you hear the voice of natur amid the trees ?
Isn't it sweet?*

" Well, it's so absurd you can't help laughin' and saying,
* No ;* but then I hear the voice of natur closer still, and it says,
'Ain't she a sweet critter?'

" Well, a cultivated field, which is a work of art, dressed with

THE WOUNDS OP THE HEART.

artificial manures, and tilled with artificial tools, perhaps hv
steam, is called the smiling face of nature. Here nature is
strong and there exhausted, now animated and then asleep. At
the poles, the features of nature are all frozen, and as stiff as a
poker, and in the West Indies burnt up to a cinder. A^at a
pack of stuff it is ! It is just a pretty word like pharmacopia
and Pierian spring, and so forth. I hate poets, stock, lock, and
barrel ; the whole seed, breed, and generation of them. If you
see a she oae, look at her stockings ; they are all wrinkled about
her ancles, and her shoes are down to heel, and her hair is
as tangled as the mane of a two-year old colt. And if you see a
he one, you see a mooney sort of man, either very sad, or so wild-
looking you think he is half-mad ; he eats and sleeps on earth,
and that's all. The rest of the time he is sky-high, trying to
find inspiration and sublimity, like Byron, in gin and water. I
like folks that have common-sense."

Well, to get back to my story. Said Jessie to me : " IMr
Slick, what is natur?"

" Well," sais I, " Miss, it's not very easy to explain it so as
to make it intelligible ; but I will try. This world, and all that
is in it, is the work of G-od. When he made it, he gave it laws
or properties that govern it, and so to every living or inanimate
thing; and these properties or laws are called their nature.
Nature therefore is sometimes used for God himself, and some-
times for the world and its contents, and the secret laws of ac-
tion imposed upon them when created. There is one nature to
men (for though they don't all look alike, the laws of their be-
ing are the same), and another to horses, dogs, fish, and so on.
Each class has its own nature. For instance, it is natural for
fish to inhabit water, birds the air, and so on. In general, it
therefore means the universal law that governs everything. Do
you understand it ?" says I.

" Not just now," she said, "but I will when I have time to
think of it. Do you say there is one nature to all men ? "

'' Yes, the same nature to Indian as to white men — all the
same."

" Which is the best nature ?'*

" It is the same."

" Indian and white, are they both equal ? '*

"Quite—" , .

"Do you think so?"

" Every mite and morsel, every bit and grain. Everybody
don't think so ? That's natural ; every race thinks it is oetter
than another, and every man thinks he is superior to others ;
and so does every woman. They think their children the best

THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART.

-and handsomest. A bear thinks her nasty, dirt^, shapeless, tail-
less cubs the most beautiful things in all creation.*'

She laughed at that, but as suddenly relapsed into a fixed
gloom. " If red and white men are both equal, and have the
same nature," she said, *' what becomes of those who are neither
red nor white, who have no country, no nation, no tribe, scorned
by each, and the tents and the houses of both closed against
them. Are they coual ? what does nature say ?"

" There is no difference," I said ; " in the eye of God they
are all alike."

" God may think and treat them so," she replied, rising with
jiuch emotion, " but man does not."

I thought it was as well to change the conversation, and
leave her to ponder over the idea of the races which seemed so
new to her. " So," sais I, " I wonder the doctor hasn't arrived ;
it's past four. There he is, Jessie ; see, he is on the beach ; he
has returned by water. Come, put oa your bonnet and let you
and I go and meet him."

" Who, me ! " she said, her face expressing both surprise and
pleasure.

"To be sure," said I. "You are not afraid of me. Miss, I
hope."

" I wam't sure I heard you right," she said, and away she
went for her bonnet.

* Poor thing! it was evident her position was a very painful
one to her, and that her natural pride was deeply injured.
Poor dear old Minister ! if you was now alive and could read
this Journal, I know what you would say as well as possible.
" Sam," you would say, " this is a fulfilment of Scripture. The
sins of the fathers are visited on the children, the effects of which
are visible in the second and third generation"

CHAPTEE VII.

FIDDLING AND DANCING, AND OEBVING THE DETIL. '

Br the time we had reached the house, Cutler joined us, and
we dined off of the doctor's salmon, which was prepared in a
way that I had never seen before ; and as it was a touch above
common, and smacked of the wigwam, I must get the receipt.
The only way for a man who travels and wants to get something

FIDDLING AND DANCING,

better than amusement out of it, is to notch down anything
new, for every place has somethinfi; to teach you in that line.
" The silent pig is the hest feeder y'' but it remains a pig still, and
hastens its death by erowm^ too fat. Now the talking traveller
feeds his mind as well as his body, and soon finds the less he
pampers his appetite the clearer his head is and the better his
spirits. The great thing is to live and learn, and learn to
live.

Now I hate an epicujre above all created things — worse than
lawyers, doctors, poHticians, and selfish fellows of all kinds. In
a giniral way he is a miserable critter, for nothin* is good enough
for him or aone right, and his appetite gives itself as many airs,
and requires as much waitin' on, as a crotchetty, fanciful, peev-
ish old lady of fashion. If a man's sensibility is all in his palate
he can't in course have much in his heart. Makin' oneself
miserable, fastin' in sackcloth and ashes, ain't a bit more foolish
than makin' oneself wretched in the midst of plenty, because
the sea, the air, and the earth won't give him the dainties he
wants, and Providence won't send the cook to dress them. To
spend one's life in eating, drinking, and sleeping, or like a bul-
lock, in ruminating on food, reduces a man to the level of an ox
or » 38. The stomach is the kitchen, and a very small one
toe a general way, and broiling, simmering, stevdng, baking,
ai,i steaming, is a goin' on there night and day. The atmosphere
is none of the pleasantest neither, and if a man chooses to vdth-
draw into himself and live there, why I don't see what earthly
good he is to society, unless he wants to wind up life by writin*
a cookery-book. I hate them — that's just the tarm, and I like
tarms that express what I mean.

I shall never forget when I was up to Michelimackinic. A
thunderin' long word, ain't it ? We call it Mackinic now for
shortness. But perhaps you wouldn't understand it spelt that
way, no more than I did when I was to England that Brighton
means Brighthelmeston, or Sissiter, Cirencester, for the English
take such liberties with words, they can't afibrd to let others
do the same ; so I give it to you both ways. Well, when I was
there last, I dined with a village doctor, the greatest epicure I
think I ever see in all my bom days. He thought and talked
of nothing else from morning till night but eatin'.

" Oh, Mr Slick," said he, rubbin' his hands, "this is the tall-
est country in the world to live in. What a variety of food
there is here, — fish, flesh, and fowl, — vdld, tame, and mongeral,
—fruits, vegetables, and spongy plants ! "

" AVhat's that ? " sais I. I always do that when a fellow
uses strange words. " We call a man who drops in accidently

Led

AND SERVING THE DEVIL.

on purpose to dinner a spoiling fellow, which meant if you give
hini the liquid he will soak it up dry.*'

" Spongy plants," sais he, " means mushrooms and the like.'*

" An ! " said I, " mushrooms are nateral to a new soil like
this. Upstarts we call them ; they arise at night, and by next
momin' their house is up and its white roof on."

" Very good," said he, but not lookin' pleased at harin* his
oratory cut suort that way. " Oh, Mr Slick ! " said he, " there
is a poor man here who richly deserves a pension both from
your government and mine. He has done more to advance the
culinary art than either Ude or Soyer."

"AVho on earth now were they?" said I. I knew well
enough who they were, for when I was to England they used to
brag greatly of Soyer at the Beform Club. For fear folks would
call their association house after their politics, " the cheap and
dirty" they built a very splash affair, and to set an example to
the state in their own establishment of economy and reform in
the public departments, hired Soyer, the best cook of the age,
at a salary that would have pensioned half-a-dozen of the poor
worn-out clerks in Downing Street. Vulgarity i» alioayt shotcy.
It is a pretty word, " Keformers." The common herd of them
I don't mind much, for rogues and fools always find employment
for each other. But when I hear of a great reformer like some
of the big bugs to England, that have been grinning through
horse-collars of late years, like harlequins at fairs, for the amuse-
ment and instruction of the public, I must say I do expect to
see a super-superior hypocrite.

Yes, I know who those great artists Soyer and Ude were,
but I thought I'd draw him out. So I just asked who on earth
they were, and he explained at great length, and mentioned the
wonderful discoveries they had made in their divine art.

" "Well," sais I, " why on earth don't your friend the Mac-
kinic cook go to London or Paris, where he won't want a pension,
or anything else, if he excels them great men ? "

" Bless you. Sir," he replied, " he is merely a voyaeeur."

" Oh dear," sais I, " I dare say then he can firy liam and
eggs and serve 'em up in ile, boil salt beef and pork, and twice
lay cod-fish, andperhaps boil potatoes nice and wat^iy like
cattle turnips. What discoveries could such a rough-and-tum-
ble fellow as that make ? "

" Well," said the doctor, " I didn't want to put myself for-
ward, for it ain't pleasant to speak of oneself."

" "Well, I don't know that," sais I, " I ain't above it, I assure
you. If you have a horse to sell, put a thunderin' long price
on him, and folks will think he must be the devil and all, and

FIDDLING AND DANCING,

if you want people to vally you right, anprnljie yourself nt a
high figure. BraggM aavei adveriUin*, 1 alwnys do it ; for as
the Nova Scotia magistrate said, who iued his debtor before
himself, ' What's the use of being a justice, if you enn't do
yourself justice.' But what was you sayin' about the voyngeur P '*
" Why, Sir," said he, " I made the discoveiy through his
instnimentality. He enabled me to do it by sunering the ex-

Eeriiuents to be made on him. His name was Alexis St Martin ;
e waa a Canadian, and about eighteen years of age, of good
constitution, robust, and healthy. He had been engaged in the
service of tlie American Fur Company as a voyageur. and was
accidentally wounded by the discharge of a musket, on the 9th
of June, 1822. The charge, consisting of powder and duck-shot,
was received in his left side ; he being at a distance of not more
thai one yard from the muzzle of the gun. The contents en-
tered posteriorly, and in an oblique direction, forward nnd in-
ward, literally blowing off integuments and muscles, of the size
of a man's hand, fracturing and carrying away the anterior half
of the sixth rib, fracturing the fifth, lacerating the lower portion
of the left lobe of the lungs, the diaphragm, and perforating the
stomach."

" Good gracious ! " sais I, " how plain that is expressed ! It
is as clear as mud, that ! I do like doctors, for their talking and
writing is intelligible to the meanest capacity."

He looked pleased, and went ahead agin.
< " After trying all the means in my power for eight or ten
months to close the orifice, by exciting adhesive inflammation
in the lips of the wound, without the least appearance of suc-
cess, I gave it up as impracticable, in any other way than that
of incising and bringing them together by sutures ; an operation
to which the patient would not submit. By using the aperture
which providence had supplied us with to communicate with
the stomach, I ascertained, by attaching a small portion of food
of different kinds to a string, and inserting it through his side,
the' exact time each takes for digestion, such as beef or pork, or
mutton or fowl, or fish or vegetables, cooked in different ways.'*
We all know how long it takes to dress them, but we did not
know how long a time they required for digestion. I Avill show
you a comparative table."

♦ The village doctor appears to have appropriotcd to himself the credit due
to another. The particulars of this rcmartcablo case are to be found in a work
published in New York in 1833, entitled '• Experiments and observations on
the gastric juices, and the physiology of digestion," by William Beaumont,
K.D., Surgeon in the United States' Army, and also in the "Albion" news-
paper of the same place for January 4, 1834.

<)>

AND SERVING THE DEVIL.

, '»

" Thank you," sais I, " but I am afraid I must be a moving,'
Fact is, my stomach was movin' then, for it fairly made me sick.
Yes, I'd a plaguy sight sooner see a man embroiderijig, which
is about as contemptible an accomplishment as an icUer can
have, than to hear him everlastingly smack his lips, and see him
open his eyes and gloat like an anaconda before he takes down
a bullock, horns, hair, and hoof, tank, shank, and Hank, at one
bolt, as if it was an opium pill to make him sleep.

Well, all this long lockrum arose out of my saying I should
like to have the receipt by which Jessie's sister had cooked the
salmon for dinner; and I intend to get it too, that's a fact. As
we concluded our meal, " Doctor," sais I, " we have been medi-
tating mischief in your absence. What do you say to our
makin' a party 'o visit the ^Bachelor beaver" a dam^ and see
your museum, nxins, betterments, and what not ? "

" Why," said he, " I should like it above all things ; but — "

"But what?" said I.

" But I am afraid, as you must stay all nigk.t, if you go, my
poor wigwam won't accommodate so many with beds."

" Oh ! some of us will camp out," sais I, " I am used to it,
and like it a plaguy sight better than hot rooms."

" Just the thing," said he. " Oh ! Mr Slick, you are a man
after my own heart. The nature of all foresters is alike, red or
white, English or French, Yankee or Blue-nose."

Jessie looked up at the coincidence of that expression with
what I had said yesterday.

" Blue-nose," said I, " Doctor," to familiarize the girl's mind
to the idea I had started of the mixed race being on a footing
of equality with the other two, " Blue-nose ought to be the best,
for he is half Yankee and half English; two of the greatest
people on the face of the airth ! '*

"True," said he, "by right he ought to be, and it's his own
fault he ain't."

I thought it would be as well to drop the allusion there, so
I said, " That's exactly what mother used to say when I did
anything wrong: *Sam, ain't you ashamed.' *No, I ain't,' said
I. * Then you ought to be,' she'd reply.

"It's a fixed fact, then," said I, "that we go to-morrow to
the Beaver dam ? "

" Yes," said he, " I shall be delighted. Jessie, you and your
sister will accompany us, won't you ? "

" I should be charmed," she replied.

" I think you will be pleased with it," he continued, " it will
just suit you; it's so quiet and retired. But you must let
Etienne take the horse, and carry a letter to my sergeant and

. FIDDLIKO AND DA5CIN0|

his commandinf]^ officer, Betty, to gjive them notice of our risit,
or he will ^o through the whole campaign in Spain before he is
done, and tell you how ill the commissariat-people were used,
in not having notice given to them to lay in stores. I never
was honoured with the presence of ladies there before, and he
will tell you he is broken-hearted at the accommodation. I don't
know what there is in the house ; but the rod and the gun will
supply us, I think, and the French boy, when he returns, will
bring me word if an3rthing is wanted from the shore."

"Jessie," said I, "can't you invite the two Highland lassies
and their brother that were here last night, and let us have a
reel this evening ? "

" Oh ! yes," she said, and going into the kitchen, the mes-
sage was despatched immediately. As soon as the guests arrived,
Peter produced his violin, and the doctor waking out of one of
his brown studies, jumped up like a boy, and taking one of the
new-comers by the hand, commenced a most joyous and rapid
jig, the triumph of which seemed to consist in who should tire
the other out. The girl had youth and agility on her side ; but
the doctor was not devoid of activity, and the great training
which his constant exercise kept him in, threw the balance in
his favour ; so when he ceased, and declared the other victori-
ous, it was evident that it was an act of grace, and not of neces-
sity. After that we all joined in an eight-handed reel, and eight
merrier and happier people I don't think were over bewre
assembled at Ship Harbour.

In the midst if it the door opened, and a tall, thin, cadaver-
ous-looking man entered, and stood contemplating us in silence.
He bad a bilious-looking countenance, which the strong light
of the fire and candles, when thrown upon it, rendered still
more repulsive. He had a broad-brimmed hat on his head,
which he did not condescend to remove, and carried in one hand
a leather travelling-bag, as lean and as dark-complexioned as
himself, and in the other a bundle of temperance newspapers.
Peter seeing that he did not speak or advance, called out to
him, with a face beaming with good humour, as he kept bob-
bing his head, and keeping time with his foot (for his whole
body was affected by his own music).

" Come in, friend, come in, she is welcome. Come in, she
is playin' herself just now, but she will talk to you presently."
And then he stamped his foot to give emphasis to tne turn of
the tune, as if he wanted to astonish the stranger with his per-
formance.

The latter however not only seemed perfectly insensible to
its charms, but immoveable. Peter at last got up from his

AND 8EPVIK0 THE DEVIL.

chair, (ind continued playing m he advanced towards him ; but
he was so excited by what was goine on among the young
people, that he couldn't retiist danang himself, as he pro<Tcdea
down the room, and when he got to him, capered and fiddled at
the same time.

" Come," said he, as he jumped about in front of him,
"come and join in;" and liftin* tne end of his bow suddenly,
tipt off his nat for him, and said, " Come, she will dance with
you herself."

The stranger deliberately laid down his travelling-bag and
paper parcel, and lifting up both hands said, " Satan, avnunt."
^ut Peter misunderstood him, and thought he said, " Sartain,
I can't."

" She canna do tat," he replied, " can't she, then she'll teach
you the step herself. This is the way," and his feet approached
so near the solemncoUy man that he retreated a step or two as
if to protect his shins. Everybody in the room was convulsed
with laughter, for all saw what the intruder was, and the sin-
gular mistake Peter was making. It broke up the reel. The
doctor put his hands to his sides, bent forward, and made the
most comical contortions of face. In this position he shuffled
across the room, and actually roared out with laughter.

I shall never forget the scene ; I have made a sketch of it,
to illustrate this for you. There was this demure sinner,
standing bolt upright in front of the door, his hat hanging on
the handle, which had arrested it in its fall, and his long black
hair, as if partaking of his consternation, flowing wildly over
his cheeks ; while reter, utterly unconscious that no one was
dancing, continued playing and capering in front of him, as if
he was ravin distracted, and the doctor bent forward, pressing
his sides with his hands, as if to prevent their bursting, laughed
as if he was in hysterics. It was the most comical thmg I ever
saw. I couldn't resist it no longer, so I joined the trio.

"Come, Doctor," sais I, "a three-handed reel," and enter-
ing into the joke, he seized the stranger by one hand, and I by
the other, and before our silent friend knew where he was, he
was in the middle of the floor, and though he was not made to
dance, he was pushed or flung into his place, and turned and
faced about as if he was takmg hii first lesson. At last, as if
by common consent, we all ceased laughing, from sheer ex-
haustion. The stranger still kept his position in the centre of
the floor, and when sSence was restorea, raised his hands again
in pious horror, and said, in a deep, sepulchral voice :

" Fiddling and dancing^ and serving the devil. Do you ever
think of your latter end ? "

FIDDUNO AND DANCING,

liil:

:i i

" Thee had better think of thine, friend," I whispered, as-
Ruming the manner of a quaker for fun, " for Peter is a rough
customer, and won't stand upon ceremony."

" Amine an aibhisteir (son of the devil)," said Peter, shaking
liis fist pt him, " if she don't like it, she had better go. It's her
own house, and she will do what she likes in it. Faat does she

want r

I want the man called Samuel Slick," said he.
■:/ "Verily," sais I, "friend, I am that man, and wilt thee t^ll
me who thee is that wantest me, and where thee livest ?"

•' Men call me," he said, " Jehu Judd, and when to home, I
live in Quaco in New Brunswick."

I was glad of that, because it wam't possible the critter
could know anything of me, and I wanted to draw him out.

" And what does thee want, friend ?" I said.

"I come to trade with you, to sell you fifty barrels of
mackerel, and to procure some nets for the fishery, and some
manufactures, commonly called domestics."

" Verily," sais I, " thee hast an odd way of opening a trade,
methinks, friend Judd. Shaking quakers dance piously, as thee
mayest have heard, and dost thee think thy conduct seemly ?
What mayest thee be, friend ?"

" A trader," he replied.

" Art thee not a fisher of mer., friend, as well as a fisher of
fish?"

"I am a Christian man," he said, " of the sect called ^C(yn>e-
outers^ * and have had experience, and when I meet the brethren,
sometimes I speak a word in season."

" "Well, friend, thee has spoken thy words out of season to-
night," I said.

" Peradventure I was wrong," he replied, " and if so, I repent
me of it."

" Of a certainty thee was, friend. Thee sayest thy nane is
Jehu ; now he was a hard rider, and it may be thee drivest a
aard bargain, if so, go thy ways, for thee cannot * make seed-
corn off of me ;' if not, tarry here till this company goeth, and
then I will talk to thee touching the thing called mackarel.

• Come-outers. This name has been applied to a considerable number of
persons in various parts of the Northern States, principally in New England,
who have recently come ottt of the various religious denominations with which
they have been connected ; hence the name. They have not themselves as-
sumed any distinctive organization. They have no creed, believing that every
one should be left free to hold such opinions on religious subjects as he
pleases, without being held accountable for the same to any human authority
—Ba'>^tlett's Americanisms.

AND SERVING THE DEVIL.

"Wilt thee sit by the fire till the quaker ceaseth his dancing,
and perhaps thee may learn what those words mean, * and the
heart daneeth for joy,' or it may be thee will return to thy
vessel, and trade in the morning."

"No man knoweth," he said, "what an hour may bring
r» rth ; I will bide my time."

" The night is cold at this season," said Peter, who con-
sidered that the laws of hospitality required him to ofler the
best he had in his house to a stranger, so he produced some
spirits, as the most acceptable thing he possessed, and requested
him to help himself.

" I care not if I do," he said, "for my pledge extendeth not
so far as this," and he poured himself out a tumbler of brandy
and water, that warn't nalf-and-half, but almost the whole hog.
Oh, gummy, what a horn ! it was strong enough almost to
tlxrow an ox over a five-bar gate. It made his eyes twinkle, I
teil you, and he sat do\ATi and began to look as if he thought
the galls pretty.

'' Come, Peter," said I, " strike up, the stranger will wait
awhile."

" Will she dance," said he, " tarn her."

" K o," said I, but I whispered to the doctor, " he will reel
soon," at which he folded his arms across his breast and per-
formed his gyrations as before. Meanwhile Cutler and Frr.tcr,
and two of the girls, commenced dancing jigs, and haMnony was
once more restored. While they were thus occupied, I talked
over the arrangements for our excursion on the morrow with
Jessie, and the doc^ or entered into a close examination of Jehu
Judd, as to the ne\7 asphalt mines in his province. He in-
formed him of the enormous petrified trunks of palm-trees that
have been found while exploring the coal-fields, and warmed
into eloquence as he enumerated the mineral wealth and great
resources of that most beautiful colony. The doctor expressed
himself delighted with the information he had received, where-
upon Jehu rose and asked him in token of amity to pledge him
in a glass of Peter's excellent cognac, and without waitmg for
a reply, filled a tumbler and swallowed it at one gulp.

My, what a pull that was. Thinks I to myself, " Friend, if
that don't take the wrinkles out of the parchment case of your
conscience, then I don't know nothin', that's all." Oh dear,
how all America is overrun with such cattle as this ; how few
teach religion, or practise it right. How hard it is to find the
genuine article. Some folks keep the people in ignorance, and
make them believe the moon is made of green cheese ; others,
with as much sense, fancy the world is. One has old saints, the

FIDDTTrO AND DANCING,

other inveuts new ones. One places miracles at a distance,
t'other makes them before their ey .-s, while both are up to mes-
merism. One says there is no muryin' in Paradise, the other
says, if that's true, it's hard, and it is best to be a mormon and
to have polygamy here. Then there is a third party who says,
neither of you speak sense, it is better to believe nothin' than
to give yourself up to be crammed. Beligion, Squire, ain't na-
tur, because it is intended to improve corrupt natur, it's no use
talkin' therefore, it can't be left to itself, otherwise it degener-
ates into something little better than animal instinct. It must
be taught, and teaching must have authority as well as learn-
ing. There can be no authority where there is no power to
enforce, and there can be no learning where there is no train-
ing. If there must be normal schools to qualify schoolmasters,
there must be Oxfords and Cambridges to qualify clergymen.
At least that's my idea. Well, if there is a qualified man, he
must be supported while he is working. But if he has to piease
his earthly employer, instead of obeying his heavenly Master,
the better he is qualified the more dangerous he is. If he relies
on his congregation, the order of things is turned upside down.
He serves mammon, and not God. If he does his duty he must
tell unpleasant truths, and then he gets a walkin' ticket. "VVho
will hire a servant, pay him for his time, find a house for him
to live in, and provide him in board, if hu has a will of his own,
and won't please his employer by doin' what he is ordered to
do ? I don't think you would. Squire, and I know I wouldn't.

No, a fixed, settled church, fike oum, or yours, Squire, is
the best. There is safe anchorage ground in them, and you
don't go draggin' your flukes with every spurt of wind, or get
wrecked if there is a gale that rages round you. There is some-
thing strong to hold on to. There are good buoys, known land-
marks, and fixed light-houses, so that you know how to steer,
and not helter-skelter lights movin' on the shore like will-o'-tbe
whisps, or wreckers' false fires, that just lead you to destruction.
The medium between the two churches, for the clergy, would be
the right thing. In yours they are too independent of the peo-
ple, with us a little too dependent. But we are coming up to
the notch by making moderate endowments, which will enable
the minister to do what is right, and not too large to make him
lazy or careless. Well then, in neither of them is a minister
handed over to a faction to try. Them that make the charges
ain't the judges, which is a Magna Charta for him.

Tes, I like our episcopal churches, they teach, persuade, guide,
and paternally govern, but they have no dungeons, no tortures,
no fire and sword. They ain't afraia of the light, for. as minister

AND SERVING THE DEVIL.

liS

used to say, " their light shines afore men." Just see what sort
of a system it must he that produces such a man as Jehu Judd.
And yet Jehu finds it answer his purpose in his class to he what
he is. His religion is a cloak, and that is a grand thing for a
pick-pocket. It hides his hands, while they are fumhlin' about
your waistcoat and trousers, and then conceals the booty. You
can't make tricks if your adversary sees your hands, you may
as well give up the game.

But to return to the evangelical trader. Before we recom-
menced dancing again, I begged the two Gaelic girls, who were
bouncing, buxom lasses, and as strong as Shetland ponies, to
coax or drag him up for a reel. Each took a hand of his and
tried to persuade him. Oh, weren't they full of smiles, and
didn't they look rosy and temptin' ? They were sure, they said,
so good-lookin' a man as he was, must have learned to dance,
or how could he have given it up ?

" For a single man like you," said Catherine.
" I am not a single man," said Old Piety, " I am a widower,
a lonely man in the house of Israel."

" Oh, Catherine," sais I, a givin' her a wink, " take care of
theeself, or thy Musquodobit farm, with its hundred acres of in-
tervale meadow, and seventy head of homed cattle, is gone."
He took a very amatory look at her after that hint.
"Verily she would be a duck in Quaco, fiiend Jehu,"
said I.

"Indeed would she, anywhere," he said, looking sanctified
Cupids at her, as pious galls do who show you the place in your
prayer-book at church.

" Ah, there is another way methinks she would he a duck,"
said I, " the maiden would soon turn up the w^Hes of her eyes at
dancin' like a duck in thunder, as the profane men say."

" Oh, oh," said the doctor, who stood behind me, " I shall
die, he'll kill me. I can't stand this, oh, how my sides ache."

"Indeed I am afraid I shall always he a wild duck,'^ said
Catherine.

" They are safer from the fowler," said Jehu, " for they are
wary and watchful."

" If you are a widower," she said, " you oughi to dance."
" Vilaj do you think so ? " said he ; but his tongue was be-
coming thick, though hu eyes were getting brighter.
"Because," she said, "a widower is an odd critter."
" Odd ? " he replied, " in what way odd, dear ? "
" Why," said the girl, " an ox of oum lately lost his mate,
and my brother called him the odd ox, and not the single ox,
and he is the most frolicksome fellow you ever see. Kow, as

FIDDLING AND DANCING

}''ou have lost your mate, you are an odd one, and if you are
ookin' for another to put its head into the yoke, you ought to
go frolickin' everywhere too ! "

" Do single critters ever look for mates ?" said he, silly.

"Well done," said I, "friend Jehu. The drake had the
best of the duck that time. Thee weren't bred in Quaco for
nothin'. Come, rouse up, wake snakes, and walk chalks, as the
thoughtless children of evil say. I see thee is warmin' to the
subject."

" Men do allow," said he, lookin' at me with great self-com-
placency, " that in speech I am peeoweriuV*

" Come, Mary," said I, addressin' the other sister, " do thee
try thy persuasive powers, but take care of thy grandmother's
legacy, the two thousand pounds thee hast in the Pictou Bank.
It is easier for that to go to Quaco than the farm."

" Oh, never fear," said she.

" Providence," he continued, " has been kind to these virgins.
They are surprising comely, and well endowL d with understand-
ing and money," and he smirked first at one and then at the
other, as if he thought either would do — the farm or the
legacy.

" Come," they both said, and as they gave a slight pull, up
he sprung to his feet. The temptation was too great for him :
two pairs of bright eyes, two pretty faces, and two hands in his
filled with Highland blood — and that ain't cold — and two glasses
of grog within, and two fortunes without, were irresistible.

So said he, " If I have offended, verily I will make amends ;
but dancing is a dangerous thing, and a snare to the umvary.
The hand and waist of a maiden in the dance lead not to serious
thoughts."

" It's because thee so seldom feels them," I said. " Edged
tools never wound thee when thee is used to them, and the
razor that cutteth the child, passeth smoothly over the chin of
a man. He who locketh up his daughters, forgetteth there is
a window and a ladder, and if gaiety is shut out of the house,
it is pitied and admitted when the master is absent or asleep.
When it is harboured by stealth and kept concealed, it loses its
beauty and innocence, and waxeth wicked. The crowd that
leaveth a night-meeting is less restrained than the throng that
goeth to a lighted ball-room. Both are to be avoided; one
weareth a cloak that conceals too much, the other a thin vest-
ment that reveals more than is seemly. Of the two, it is better
to court observation than shun it. Dark thoughts lead to dark
deeds."

" There is much reason in what you say," he said ; " I never

AND SERVING THE DEVIL.

one

vest-

)etter

dark

had it put to me in that light before. I have heard of the
shakci-H, but never saw one before you, nor was aware that they
danced."

" Did thee never hear," said I, " when thee was a boy,

" ' Merrily dance the qunkcr's >vife,
And merrily danco the quaker }'
and so on ? "

" No, never," said he.

•' Then verily, friend, I will show thee how a quaker can
dance. They call us shakers, from shaking our feet so spry.
"Which will thee choose — the farm or the legacy ?"

Mary took his hand, and led him to his place, the music
struck up, and Peter gave us one of his quickest measures.
Jehu now felt the combined influence of music, women, brandy,
and dancing, and snapped his fingers over his head, and stamped
his feet to mark the time, and hummed the tune in a voice tliat
from its power and clearness astonished us all.

" AVell done, old boy," said I, for I thought I might drop
the quaker now, " well done, old boy," and I slapped him on the
back, " go it while you are young, make up for lost time : now
for the double shuffle. Dod drot it, you are clear grit and no mis-
take. You are like a critter that boggles in the collar at the
first go off, and don't like the start, but when you do lay legs
to it you certainly ain't no slouch, I know."

The way he cut carlicues ain't no matter. From humming
he soon got to a full cry, and from that to shouting. His antics
overcame us all. The doctor gave the first key-note. " Oh, oh,
that man will be the death of me," and again rubbed himself
round the wall, in convulsions of laughter. Peter saw nothing
absurd in all this, on the contrary, he was delighted with the
stranger.

" Oigh," he said, " ta preacher is a goot feller after all, she
will tance with her hem ainsel ;" and fiddling his way up to hiii
again, he danced a jig with Jehu, to the infinite amusement ol
us all. The familiarity which Mr Judd exhibited with the steps
and the dance, convinced me that he must have often indulged
in it before he became a Christian. At last he sat down, not a
little exhausted with the violent exertion, but the liquor made
him peeowerful thick-legged, and his track wam't a bee line, I
tell you After a while a song was proposed, and Mary en-
treated him to favour us with one.

" Dear Miss," said he, " pretty Miss," and his mouth re-
sembled that of a cat contemplating a pan of milk that it cannot
reach, " lovely maiden, willingly would I comply, if Sail Mody
(Psalmody) will do, but I have forgotten my songs."

100

FIDDUNG AND DANCING.

" Try this," said I, and his strong, clear voice rose above us
all, as he joined us in— ^

•• Yes, Lucy is a pretty girl,
Such lubly hands and feet,
When her toe is in the Market-house,
lar heel is in Main Street.

" Ob take your time. Miss Lucy,
Miss Lucy, Lucy Long,

Rock de cradle, Lucy, ,

' And listen to de song." *

He complained of thirst and fatigue after this, and rising,
said, " I am peeowertvl dry, by jinks," and helped himself so
liberally, that he had scarcely resumed his seat before he was
fast asleep, and so incapable of sustaining himself in a sitting
posture, tnat we removed him to the sofa, and loosening his
cravat, placed him in a situation where he could repose comfort-
ably. VVe then all stood round the evangelical " Come-outer'*
and sang in chorus :

•' My old master, Twiddledum Don,
Went to bod with his trousers on.
One shoe oiT, and the other shoe on —
That's the description of Twiddledum Don."

" Oh, my old ' Come-outer,' said I, as I took my last look
at him for the night, " you have * come-out ' in your true colours
at last, but this comes of ^fiddling and dancing, and serving the
devil: "

CHAPTEE VIII.

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

ArxEE the family had retired to rest, the doctor and I lighted
our cigars, and discoursed of the events of the evening.

" Such men as Jehu Judd," he said, " do a monstrous deal
of mischief in the country. By making the profession of piety
a cloak for their knavery, they injure the cause of morality, and
predispose men to ridicule the very appearance of that which is
so justly entitled to their respect, a sober, righteous, and godly
life. Men lose their abhorrence of fraud in their distrust of the
efficacy of religion. It is a duty we owe to society to expose
and punish such fellows."

" Well then, I will do my duty," said I, laughing, " he has

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

101

expose
he haa

fired into the >\Tong flock this time, I'll teach him not to do it
again, or my name is not Sam Slick. I will make that gonev a
caution to sinners, / know. He has often deceived others so tnat
they didn't know him, I will now alter him so he shan't know
himself when he v. akes up."

Proceeding to my hed-room, which, as I said hefore, adjoined
the parlour, I brought out the box containin' my sketchin' fixins,
and opening of a secret drawer, showed him a small paper of
bronze-coloured powder.

" That," said I, " is what the Indians at the Nor-west use to
disguise a white man, when he is in their train, not to deceive
their enemies, for you couldn't take in a savage for any length
of time, no how you could fix it, but that his pale face might not
alarm the scouts of their foes. I was stained that way for a
month when I was among them, for there was war going on at
the time."

" Mixing a little of it with brandy I went to the sofa, where
Mr Jehu Judd was laid out, and with a camel's hair brush or-
namented his upper lip with two enormous and ferocious mous-
tachios, curling well upwards, across his cheeks to his ears, and
laid on the paint in a manner to resist the utmost efibrts of soap
and water. Each eye was adorned with an enormous circle to
represent the effect of blows, and on his forehead was written
in this indelible ink in large print letters, like those on the stam-
board of a vessel, the words " Jehu of Quaco."

In the morning we made preparations for visiting the Ba-
chelor Beaver. The evangelical trader awoke amid the general
bustle of the house, and sought me out to talk over the sale of
his mackarel.

" Fa is tat," said Peter, who first stared wildly at him, and
then put himself in a posture of defence. " Is she a deserter
from the garishon of Halifax ? "

"I am a man of peace," said Jehu (who appeared to have
forgotten the aberrations of the last evening, and had resumed
his usual sanctimoniouslyfied manner). " Swear not, friend, it
is an abomination, and becometh not a Christian man."

Peter was amazed, he could not trust his eyes, his ears, or
his memory.

" Toctor," said he, " come here for heaven's sake, is she hem
ainsel or ta tevil."

The moment the doctor saw him, his hands as usual invo-
luntarily protected his sides, and lie burst out a laughing in his
face, and then describing a circle on the grass, fell down, and
rolled over, saying, " Oh, oh, that man will be the death of me."
The girls nearly went into hysterics, and Cutler, thougli evi-

102

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

dently not approving of the practical joke, as only fit for mili-
tary life, unable to contain himself, walked away. The French
boy, Etienne, frightened at his horrible expression of face, re-
treated backwards, crossed himself most devoutly, and muttered
an Ave Maria.

" Friend Judd," said I, for I was the only one who retained
my gravity, "thee ought not to wear a mask, it is a bad sign."

"I wear no mask, Mr Slick," he said, "I use no disguises,
and it does not become a professing man like you to jeer and
scoff because I reprove the man Peter for his profaneness."

Peter stamped and raved like a madman, and had to resort
to Gaelic to disburden his mind of his effervescence. lie threat-
ened to shoot him ; he knew him very well, he said, for he had
seen him before on the prairies. He was a Kentucky villain, a
forger, a tief, a Yankee spy sent to excite the Indians against
the English. He knew his false moustachios, he would swear
to them in any court of justice in the world. " Deil a bit is ta
loon Jehu Judd," he said, " her name is pray in' Joe, the horse-
stealer."

For the truth of this charge he appealed to his daughters,
who stood aghast at the fearfulresemblance his moustachios had
given him to that noted borderer.

" That man of Satan," said Jehu, looking very uncomfortable,
as he saw Peter flourishing a short dirk, and the doctor holding
him back and remonstrating with him. " That man of Satan I
never saw before yesterday, when I entered his house, Avliere
there vjbb fiddling and dancing^ and serving the devil. Truly my
head became dizzy at the sight, my heart sunk within me at be-
holding such wickedness, and I fell into a swoon, and was
troubled with dreams of the evil one all night."

" Then he visited thee, friend," I said, " in thy sleep, and
placed his mark upon thee — ^the mark of the beast, come and
look at it in the glass."

"When he saw himself, he started back in great terror, and ,
gave vent to a long, low, guttural groan, like a man who is suf-
fering intense agony. " What in the world is all this ? " he said.
He again approached the glass and again retreated with a look
of unspeakable despair, groaning like a thousand sinners, and
swelled out about the head and throat like a startled blauzer-
snake. After which he put his hand to his lip and discovered
there was no hair. He then took courage and advanced once
more, and examined it carefully, and rubbed it, but it did not
remove it.

"He has burned it into the skin," I said, "he hath made
thee the image of the horse-stealer, and who knoweth whom else

STITCHING A BUrrON-IIOLE.

103

r mili-
Frcnch
ice, re-
ittered

}tained
sign."
ipjiiises,
>er and

I resort
threat-
he had
illain, a
against
1 swear
3it is ta
3 horse-

ighters,
lios had

briable,
holding
Satan I
Avhere
puly my
e at be-
md wa3

ep, and
)me and

ror, and

is siif-
he said.

1 a look
lers, and
blauzer-
3covered
•ed once

did not

th made
hoin else

thou resemblest. Thee art a marked man verily. Thee said theo
never used disguises."

" Never," he said, " never, Mr Slick."

" Hush," I said, " thee hast worn three disguises. First, thee
•wore the disguise of religion ; secondly, thee were disguised in
liquor ; and thirdly, thee art now disguised with what fighting
men call the moustachio."

" Oh, Mr Slicic," said he, leaving off his cant, and rcallv look-
ing like a different man, " dod drot it, it is a just punisdment.
I knock under, I holler, I give in, have mercy on me. Can you
rid me of this horrid mark, for I can't flunk out in the street in
this rig."

" I can," sais I, "but I will do it on one condition only, and
that is, that you give over canting that way, and coverin' tricks
with long faces and things too serious to mention now, for that
is doubly wicked. Cheatin' ain't pretty at no time, though I
wouldn't be too hard on a man for only gettin' hold of the right
eend of the rope in a bargain. I have done it myself. Or put-
tin' the leak into a consaited critter sometimes for fun. But to
cheat, and cant to help you a doin' of it, is horrid, that's a fact.
It's the very devil. Will you promise, if I take down that or-
namental sign-board, that you will give up that kind o' business
and set up a new shop ? "

" I will," said he, " upon my soul — I'll be d — d if I don't.
That ain't cant now, is it ? "

" Well, now you never said a truer word," said I, " you will
be d — d if you don't, that's a fact. But there is no use to run
to the other extreme, neither."

*' Are you a preacher ? " said he, and I thought he gave me a
sly look out of the corner of his eye, as much as to say, " how
good we are, ain't we," as sin said when the devil was rebukin'
of him. The fact is, the fellow was a thunderin' knave, but he
was no fool, further than being silly enough to be a knave,

" No," sais I, " I ain't, I scorn a man dubbin' himself preacher,
without the broughtens up to it, and a lawful warrant for being
one. And I scorn cant, it ain't necessary to trade. If you want
that proved to you, wait till I return to-morrow, and if you get
to winderd of me in a bargain, I'll give you leave to put the
moustachios on me, that's a fact. My maxim is to buy as low
and sell as high as I can, provided the article will bear a large'
profit. If not, I take a moderate advance, turn the penny quick,
and at it again. I will compound something that will take out
your false hair, for I don't think it will be easy tc shave it off.
It all came of pretence. What in the world was the reason you
couldn't walk quietly into the cantecoi, where people were en-

101

STITCHING A DUTTOX-IIOLE.

\oy\nff themselves, and either join them, or if you had scruples,
Keep them to yourself and sit by. Nobody would have molested
you. Nothing but cant led you to join temperance societies.
A man ought to be able to use, not abuse liquor, but the moment
vou obligate yourself not to touch it, it kinder sets you a han-
kering after it, and if you taste it after that, it upsets you, as it
did last night. It ain t ecuy to wean a calf that takes to suckin*
the second time, thaft a fact. Tour pretence set folks agin you.
They didn't half like the interruption for one thing, and then
the way you acted made them disrespect you. So you got a
most an all-fired trick played on you. And I must say it sarves
you right. Now, sais 1, go on board and — "

"Oh, Mr Slick," said he, "oh now, that's a good fellow,
don't send me on board such a figure as this, I'd rather die fust,
I'd never hear the last of it. The men would make me the
laughing-stock of Quaco. Oh, I can't go on board."

" Well," sais I, " go to bed then, and put a poultice on your
face, to soften the skin." That warn't necessary at all, but I
said it to punish him. " And when I come back, I will give
3'ou a wash, that will make your face as white and as smooth as
u baby's."

" Oh, Mr Slick," said he, "couldn't you—" but I turned
away, and didn't hear him out.

By the time I had done with him, we were all ready to start
for the Bachelor Beaver. Peter borrowed an extra horse and
waggon, and drove his youngest daughter. Cutler drove Jessie
in another, and the doctor and I walked.

" We can travel as fast as they can," he said, " for part of
the road is ftdl of stumps, and very rough, and I like the ar-
rangement, and want to nave a talk with you about all sorts of
things."

After travelling about two miles, we struck off the main high-
way into a wood-road, in which stones, hillocks, and roots of
trees so impeded the waggons, that we passed them, and took
the lead.

" Are you charged ? " said the Doctor, " if not, I think we
may as well do so now."

" Perhaps it would be advisable," said I. " But where is
your gun ? "

" I generally am so well loaded," he replied, " when I go to ,
the woods, I find it an encumbrance. In addition to my other
traps, I find forty weight of pemican as much as I can carry."

" Femican"* sais I, "what in natur is that?" I knew as
well as he did what it was, for a man that don't understand how

• Seo Dunn's " Oregon."

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

105

to make that, dow't know the very abeselfa of wood-craft. But
1 toll you what, Squire, unless you want to be hated, don't let
on yuu know all that a feller can tell you. The more you do
know, the ir-^re folks are afeared to be able to tell you something
new. It flatters their vanity, and it's a hannless piece of polite-
ness, as well as good policy to listen ; for who tne plague will
attend to you if you won't condescend to hear them V Convers'
ation is a barter, in tohich one thing is swapped for another, and
yuu must abide by the laws of trade. What you give costs you
nothing ; and what you get may be worth nothing ; so, if you
don't gain much, you don't lose, at all events. " So," sais I,
" what in natur is pemicau ? "

" AVhy," sais he, " it is formed by pounding the choice parts
of venison or other meat very small, oried over a slack tire, or
by the frost, and put into bags, made of the skin of the slnin
animal, into which a portion of melted fat is poured. The whole
being then strongly pressed, and sewed up in bags, constitutes
the best and most portable food kno^^ll; and one wliich will
keep a great length of time. If a dainty man, like you, wishes
to improve its flavour, you may spice it."

"What a grand thing that would be for soldiers during
forced marches, wouldn't it. "Well, Doctor," sais I, " that's a
wrinkle, ain't it ? But who ever heard of a colonial minister
knowing anything of colony habits ? "

" If we have a chance to kill a deer," he said, " I will show
you how to make it," and he looked as pleased to give me that
information as if he had invented it himself. " So I use this
instead of a gun," he continued, producing along, thick-barreled
pistol, of capital workmanship, and well mounted. " I prefer
this, it answers every purpose : and is easy to carry. There are
no wolves here, and bears never attack you, unless molested,
so that the gun-barrel is not needed as a club ; and if Bruin
once gets a taste of this, he is in no hurry to face it again. The
great thing is to know how to shoot, and where to hit. Now,
it's no use to fire at the head of a bear, the proper place to aim
for is the side, just back of the fore leg. Are you a good shot ? "

" Well," said I, " I can't brag, for I have seen them that
could beat me at that game ; but, in a general way, I don't cal-
culate to throw away my lead. It's scarce in the woods. Sup-
pose though we have a trial. Do you see that blaze in the hem-
lock tree, there ? try it."

Well, he up, and as quick as wink fired, and hit it directly
in the centre.

"Well," sais I, "you scare me. To tell you the truth, I
didn't expect to be taken up that way. And so sure as I boast

106

8TITCIIIN0 A BUTTON-HOLE.

of a tiling, I nlip out of the little cend of the horn." "Well, I
drew a bead fine on it, an<i firt'd.

" That mark iM too Hniall," Haid he (thinking I had niittbcd
it), "and hardly plain (Miouph."

" I shouldn t wonder if 1 had pone a one side or the other,"
said I, as we walked up to it, *' 1 intended to send your ball
further in ; but I cueHS I hav(» only turn(>d it round. See, I
have cut a little grain of the bark oft' the right side of the circle."

"Good," said he, "these balls are near enough to give a
critter the heart-ache, at any rate. You are a better shot than
I am ; aud that's what I nave never seen in this province.
Strange, too, for you don't live in the woods as I do."

"That's the reason," said I, "I shoot for practice, you,
when you require it. Use keeps your hand in, but it wouldn't
do it for me; so I make up by practising whenever I can.
"When I go to the woods, which ain't as often now as I could
wish, for they ain't to be found everywhere in our great
country, I enjoy it with all my heart. I enter into it as keen
as a hound, and I don't care to have the Clockmaker run riga
on. A man's life often depends on his shot, and he ought to be
afraid of nothin'. Some men, too, are as dangerous as wild
beasts ; but if they know you can snuff a candle with a ball,
hand runnin', why, they are apt to ti their luck with some one
else, that ain't up to snuff, that's all. It's a common feeling,
that.

" The best shot I ever knew, was a tailor at Albany. He
used to be very fond of brousin' in the forest sometimes, and
the young fellows was apt to have a shy at Thimble. They
talked of the skirts of tne forest, the capes of the Hudson,
laughing in their sleeve, giving a fellow a basfin, having a stiich
in the side, cuffing a fellow's ears, taking a tuck-in at lunch, or
calling mint-julip an inside lining, and so on ; and every time
any o' these words came out, they all laughed like anything.

" Well, the critter, who was really a capital fellow, used to
join in the laugh himself, but still grinnin' is no proof a man
enjoys it ; for a hyena will laugh, if you give him a poke. So
what does he do, but practise in secret every morning and
evening at pistol-shooting for an hour or two, until he was a
shade more than perfection itself. "Well, one day he was out
with a party of tliom same coons, and they began to run the
old rig on him as usual. And he jumps up on eend, and in a
joking kind o' way, said : * Gentlemen, can any of you stitch a
button-hole, with the button in it ?' Well, they all roared out
at that like mad.

" ' No, Sirree,' sais they, 'but come, show us Thimble, will

BTITCniXG A mrrON-HOLK.

107

you? thnt'« a good ft-llow. Totn, fetch the goo»« to prrwi it
wlu'ii it'M (lone. Dick, cahbm/e a bit at* cloth tor him to try it
upon. Why, Tom, yon nrc um ftharp a» a needle.^

♦♦ • WAX; saif, he, ' I'll show yon.'

" So he went to a tree, and took out of his pocket a fip-
pcnny bit, that had a hole in thu centre, and putting in it a
Bmall nail, which he had provided, he fastened it to the tn*e.

"'Now,' said he, taking out a pair of pistols, and lots of
ammunition, from the bottom of his prog-basket, where he had
hid them. * Now,' said he, 'gentlewi^n, the wav to stitch a button-
hole, is to put balls all round that button, in a close ring, and
never disturb them ; that's what we tailors call workmanlike:'
and ho fired away, shot after shot, till he had done it.

" * Now,' said he, ' gentle/w^n, that button has to be fastened ;'
and he fired, and drove the nail that it hung on into the tree.
•And now, gentle;«<?w,' said he, *I have stood your shots for
many a long day, turn about is fair play. The first man that
cracks a joke at me, on account of my calling, must stand my
shot, and if I don't stitch his button-hole for him, I am no
tailor ; that's all.'

" Well, they all cheered him when he sat down, and they
drank his health ; and the boss of the day said : * Well, Street
(afore that he used to call him Thimble), well, Street,' said he,
' you are a man.*

" ' There you are again,' said Street, ' that is a covered joke
at a tailor being only the ninth part of one. I pass it over this
time, but let's have no more of it.'

" * No, Sirrce, no,' said boss, * on honour now, I didn't mean
it. And I say, too, let there be no more of it.' "

" Not a bad story 1" said the doctor. " A man ought to be
able to take his own part in the world ; but my idea is we think
too much of guns. Do you know anything of archery ? "

"A little," sais I, "at least folks say so; but then they
really give me credit for what I don't deserve ; they say I draw
a thunderin' long bow sometimes."

" Oh ! oh !" he said laughing, " posiZ/yely, as the fellow said
to the tailor, you'll give me a stitch in my side. Well, that's
better than being ^ sewed up,' as Jehu was last night. But,
seriously, do you ever use the bow?"

" Well, I have tried the South American bow, and it's a
powerful weapon that ; but it takes a man to d''aw it, I tell
you."

"Yes," said he, "it requires a strong arm ; hni "^he exercise
is good for the chest. It's the one I generHlly use. The bow
is a great weapon, and the oldest in the world. I believe I have

108

STITCHING A BU'ITON-HOLE.

' m^\

■1

1 '•'t ^ 1

.ii

a ^■'^lerable collection of them. The Indian bow was more or less
excellent, according to the wood they had; but they never
could have been worth much here, for the countr* produces
no suitable material. The old English long-bow perhaps is a
good one ; but it is not so powerful as the Turkish. That has
immense power. They say it will carry an arronvr from four
hundred and fifty to five hundred yards. Mine perhaps is not
a first-rate one, nor am I what I call a skilful ar chfT ; but I can
reach beyond three hundred yards — though that is an immense
distance. The gun has superseded them ; but though superior
in many respects, the other has some qualities that are in-
valuable. In skirmishing, or in surprising outposts, what an
advantage it is to avoid the alarm and noise occasioned by fire-
arms. All troops engaged in this service in addition to the rifle
ought to have tne bow and the quiver. What an advantage it
would have been in the Caffre war, and how serviceable now in
the Crimea. They are light to carry and quickly discharged.
AVhen we get to my house I will prove it to you. "We will set
up two targets, at one hundred yards, say. You shall fire from
one to the other, and then stand aside, and before you can re-
load I will put three arrows into yours. I should say four to
a common soldier's practice ; but I give even you three to one.
If a man misses his first shot at me with a gun, he is victimized,
for I have three chances in return before he gets his second,
and if I don't pink him with one or the other — why, I deserve
to be hit. For the same reason, what a glorious cavalry weapon
it is, as the Parthians knew. What a splendid thing for an
ambush, where you are neither seen nor heard. I don't mean
to say they are better than fire-arms; but, or-casionally used
with them they would be irreaistibld. If I were a British
officer ill command I would astonish the enemy."

" You would astonish the Horse- Guards, too, /know," said
I. " It would ruin you for ever. They'd call you old ' bows and
arrows,' as they did the general that had no flints to his guns,
when he attacked Buonus Ayres; they'd have you up in
' Punch ; ' they'd draw you as Cupid going to war ; they'd nick-
name you a Bow-street officer. Oh ! they'd soon teach you what
a quiver was. They'd play the devil with you. They'd beat you
at your own g^ me ; you'd be stuck full of poisoner! arrows. You
could as eap^l; introduce the queue again, as the bow."

" Well, Cressy, Poiotiers, and Agincourt were won with
the bow," he said, "and, as an auxiliary weapon, it is still as
effective as ever. However that is -.lot a mere speculation.
AVhen I go out after cariboo, I always carry mine, and seldom
use my gun. It don't alarm the herd ; they don't know where

STITCHING A BUITON-HOLE.

109

the shaft comes from, and are as likely to look for it in th( lake
or in the wild grass as anywhere else. Let us try them to-
gether. But let us load with shot now. "VVe shall come to the
brook directly, and where it spreads out into still water, and
the flags grow, the wild fowl frequent ; for they are amazin' fond
of poke-lokeins, as the Indians call those spots. We may get
a brace or two perhaps to take home with us. Come, leu us
push ahead, and go warily."

After awhile a sudden turn of the road disclosed to us a
flock of blue-winged ducks, and he whispered, " Do you fire to
the right, and I will take the left." When the smoke from our
simultaneous discharges cleared away, we saw the flock rise,
leaving five of their number as victims of their careless watch.

" That is just what I said," he remarked, " the gun is supe-
rior in many respects ; but if we had our bows here, we would
have had each two more shots at them, while on the wing. As
it is, we can't reload till they are out of reach. I only spoke
of the bow as subordinate and auxiliary ; but never as a substi-
tute. Although I am not certain that, with our present manu-
facturing skill, metallic bows could not now ^oe made, equal in
power, superior in lightness, and more effecti.e th^n any gun
when the object to be aimed at is not too minute, for in that
particular the rifle will never be equalled — certainly not sur-
passed."

The retriever soon brought us our birds, and we proceeded
leisurely on our way, and in a short time were overtaken by
the waggons, when we advanced together towards the house,
which we reached in about an hour more. As soon as we came
in sight of it, the dogs gave notice of our approach, and a tall,
straight, priggish-looking man marched, for he did not hurry
himself, bareheaded towards the bars in the pole fence. He
was soon afterwards followed by a little old woman at a foot
amble, or sort of broken trot, such as distinguishes a Naragan-
set pacer. She had a hat in her hand, which she hastily put on
the man's head. But, as she had to jump up to do it, she ef-
fected it with a force that made it cover his eyea, and nearly
extinguish his nose. It caused the man to stop and adjust it,
when he turned round to his flapper, and, by the motion of his
hand, and her retrogade movement, it appeared he did not re-
ceive this delicate attention very graciously. Duty however
was pressing him, and he resumed his stately step towards the
bars.

She attacked him again in the rear, as a goose does an in-
truder, and now and then picked something from his coat, which
I supposed to be a vagrant thread, or a piece of lint or straw,

110

STITCHING A LUTTOX-IIOLE.

and tlieii retreated a step or two, to avoid closer contact. He
was coMijH'lled at last to turn a«i;ain on his pursuer, and expos-
tulate with her in no gentle terms. I heard the words " mind
your own business," or something of the kind, and the female
voice more distinctly (women always have the best of it), "You
look as if you had slept in it. \ou ain't fit to appear before
gentlemen." Ladies she had been unaccustomed of late to pee,
and therefore omitted altogether. " What would Colonel Jones
say if he saw you that way ?"

To which the impatient man replied: "Colonel Jones be
hanged. He is not my commanding officer, or you either — take
that will you, old ooman," If the colonel was not there his mas-
ter waf., therefore pressing forward he took down the bars, and
removed them a one side, when he drew himself bolt upright,
near one of the posts, and placing his hand across his forehead,
remained in that position, without uttering a word, till the wag-
gons passed, and the doctor ^nid, "Well, Jackson, how are
you ? " " Hearty, Sir ! I hope your Honour is well ? Why, Bus-
car, is that you, dog ; how are you, my man ? " and then he pro-
ceeded very expeditiously to replace the poles.

" What are you stopping for ? " said the doctor to me, for
the whole party was waiting for us.

"I was admirin' of them bars,'* said I.

" Why, they are the commonest things in the country," he
replied. " Did you never see them before ? " Of course I had,
a thousand times, but I didn't choose to answer.

"What a most beautiful contrivance," said I, "they are.
First, you can't find them, if you don't know beforehand where
they are, they look so like the rest of the fence. It tante one
stranger in a thousand could take them down, for if he begins
at the top they get awfully tangled, and if. he pulls the wrong
way, the harder he hauls the tighter they get. Then he has to
drag them all out of the way, so as to lead the horse through,
and leave him standin' there till he puts them up agin, and as
like as not, the critter gets tired of waitin', races oft' to the
stable, and breaks the waggon all to flinders. After all these
advantages, they don't cost but a shilling or so more than a gate.
Oh, it's grana."

"Well, well," said the doctor, "I never thought of that
afore, but you are right after all," and he laughed as good hu-
mouredly as possible. " Jackson," said he.

" Yes, your Honour."

" We must have a gate there."

" Certainly," said the servant, touching his hat. But he
honoured me with a look, as much as to say, " Thank you for

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

Ill

one

nothir.g, Sir. It's a pity you hadn't served under Colonel Jones,
for he would have taught you to mind your o\vn business double
quick."

AVe then proceeded to the door, and the doctor welcomed
the party to the " Bachelor Beaver's-dam," as he called it. In
the mean time, the bustling little old woman returned, and ex-
pressed great delight at seeing us. The place was so lonesome,
she said, and it was so pleasant to see ladies there, for they were
the first who had ever visited the doctor, and it was so kind of
them to come so far, and she hoped they would often honour
the place with their presence, if they could put up with their
accommodation, for she had only heard from the doctor the night
before ; and she was so sorry she couldn't receive them as she
could wish, and a whole volume more, and an appendix longer
than that, and an index to it, where the paging was so jumbled
you couldu't find nothin'.

Jackson joined in, and said he regretted his commissariat
was so badly supplied. That it was a poor country to forage in,
and that there was nothing but the common rations and stores
for tlie detachment stationed there. But that nothing should be
wanting on his part, and so on. The housekeeper led the way to
the apartment ■? destined for the girls. Peter assisted the boy to
unharness the horses, and the doctor showed Cutler and myself
into the hall, where the breakfast table was set for us. Seeing
Jackson marching to the weU, as if he was on parade, I left the
two together in conversation, and went out to talk to him.

" Sergeant," sais I.

" Yes, your Honour," said he, and he put down the pad, and
raised his hand to his forehead.

" I understand you have seen a great deal of service in your
time."

" Yes, Sir," said he, looking well pleased, and as if his talk-
ing tacks were all ready. I had hit the right subject. " I ave
gone through a deal of soldiering in my day, and been iix many
a ard fight, Sir."

" I see you have the marks on you," I said. " That is a bad
scar on your face."

" "VVeli, Sir," said he, " saving your presence, I wish the devil
had the Frenchman that gave me that w^ound. I have some I
am proud of having received in the service of my king and
country. I have three balls in me now, which the doctors
couldn't extract, and nothin' but death will bring to the light
of day agtiin, if they can be said to be seen in the grave. But
that scar is the only disgraceful mark I ever received since I
first joined in 1808

112

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

" AVlien we were laying siege to Badojoz, Sir, I was in the
cavalry, and I was sent with a message to a brigade that was
posted some distance from us. Well, Sir, as I was trotting
along, I saw a French dragoon, well mounted, leading a splendid
spare orse, belonging to some French hofficer of rank, as far as
1 could judge from his happearance and mountings. Instead of
pursuing my course, as I ought to have done. Sir, I thought I'de
make a dash at the rascal, and make prize of that are hanimal.
So I drew my sword, raised myself in my saddle (for I was con-
sidered a first-rate swordsman, as most Hinglishmen hare who
have been used to the single-stick), and made sure I ad him.
Instead of turning, he kept steadily on, and never as much as
drew his sabre, so in place of making a cut hat him, for I'de
scorn to strike han hunarmed man, my play was to cut is reins,
and then if he wanted a scrimmage, to give him one, and if not,
to carry off that hare orse.

" Well, Sir, he came on gaUautljr, I must say that, and kept
his eye fixed steadily on me, when just as I was going to make
a cut at his reins, he suddenly seized his eavy-mounted elmet,
and threw it slap at my face, and I'll be anged if it didn't stun
me, and knock me right off the orse flat on the ground, and
then he galloped off as ard as he could go. When I got up, I
took his elmet under my harm, and proceeded on my route. I
was ashamed to tell the story straight, and I made the best tale
I could of the scrimmage, and showed the elmet in token that
it was a pretty rough fight. But the doctor, when he dressed
the wound, swore it never was made with a sword, nor a bullet,
nor any instrument he knew hon, and that he didn't think it
was occasioned by a fall, for it was neither insised, outsised, nor
contused — but a confusion of all three. He questioned me as
close as a witness.

" ' But,' sais I, ' doctor, there is no telling what himplements
Frenchmen ave. They don't fight like us, they don't. It was
a runnin' scrimmage, or handicap fight.' Tes, Sir, if it was
hanywhere helse, where it wouldn't show, it wouldn't be so bad,
but there it is on the face, and there is no denyin' of it."

Here the little woman made her appearance again, with the
hat in her hand, and said imploringly :

" Tom, doee put your hat on, that's a good soul. He don't
take no care of himself, Sir," she said, addressing herself to me.
" He has seen a deal of service in his day, and has three bullets
in him now, and he is as careless of hisself as if he didn't mind
whether I was left alone in the oulin' wilderness or not. Oh,
Sir, if you heard the wild beastesis here at nig'n!;, it's dreadful.
It's worse than the wolves in the Pyreen, in Spain. And then,

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

113

the

Sir, all I can do, I can't get him to wear is at, when ho knows
in is eart he had a stroke of the sun near Badajoz, which knock-
ed him oft' his orse, and see how it cut his face. He was so
andsome before. Sir."

" Betty," said the sergeant, " the doctor is calling you. Do
go into the ouse, and don't bother the gentleman. Oh, Sir,"
said he, " I have had to tell a eap of lies about that are scar on
my face, and that's ard, Sir, for a man who has a medal with
five clasps ; ain't it ? "

Here the doctor csime to toll me breakfast was readv.

" I was admiring, Doctor," said I, "this simple contrivance
of yours for raising water from the well. It is very ingenious."

" Very," he said, " but I assure you it is no invention of
mine. I have no turn that way. It is very common in the
country."

I must describe this extraordinary looking affair, for thoiigh
not unusual in America, I have never seen it in England, although
the happy thought doubtless owes its origin to the inventive
genius of its farmers.

The well had a curb, as it is called, a square wooden box
open at the top, to prevent accident to the person drawing the
water. A few paces from this was an upright post about twelve
feet high, having a crotch at the top. A long beam lies across
this, one end of which rests on the ground at a distance from
the post, and the other projects into the air with its point over
the well. This beam is secured in the middle of the crotch of
the upright post by an iron bolt, on which it moves, as on an
axle. To the aerial end is attached a few links of a chain, that
hold a long pole to which the bucket is fastened, and hangs over
the weU. The beam and its pendent apparatus resembles a
fishing-rod and its line protruding over a stream. When a per-
son wishes to draw water, he takes hold of the pole, and as he
pulls it down, the bucket descends into the well, and the heavy
end of the beam rises into the air, and when the pail is filled
the weight of the butt end of the beam in its descent raises the
bucket.

" Now," said I, " Doctor, just observe how beautiful this
thing is in operation. A woman (for they draw more nor half
the water used in this country) has to put out all her strength,
dragging down the pole, with her hands over her head (an atti-
tude and exercise greatly recommended by doctors to women),
in order to get the bucket down into the well. If she is in too
big a hurry, the lever brings it up with a jerk that upsets it,
and wets her all over, which is very refreshing in hot weather,
and if a child or a dog happens to be under the heavy end of the

114

STITCHING A BUTTON-HOLE.

beam, it smashes it to death, which after all ain't uo great mat-
ter, for there are plenty left to them who have too many and
don't care for 'em. And then if it ain't well looked after and
the post gets rotten at the bottom, on a stormy day it's apt to
fall and smash the roof of the house in, which is rather lucky,
for most likely it wanted shingling, and it is time it was done.
Well, when the bucket swings about in the wind, if a gall misses
catching it, it is apt to hit her in the mouth, which is a great
matter, if she has the tooth-ache, for it will extract com-crackers
a plaguey sight quicker than a dentist could to save his soul."

" Well," said he, " I never thought of that before. I have
no turn for these things, I'll have it removed, it is a most dan-
gerous thing, and I wouldn't have an accident happen to the
sergeant and dear old Betty for the world."

" Grod bless your Honour for that," said Jackson.

" But, Doctor," said I, "joking apart, they are very pictur-
esque, ain't they, how well they look in a sketch, eh! nice
feature in the foreground."

" Oh," said he, patting me on the back, " there you have
me again. Slick. Oh, indeed they are, I can't part with my old
well-pole, oh, no, not for the world : Jackson, nave an eye to it,
see that it is all safe and strong and that no accident happens,
but I don't think we ixced take it away. Come, Slick, come
to breakfast."

Thinks I to myself, as I proceeded to the hall, " there are
two classes only in this world. Those who have genius, and
those who have common sense. They are like tailors, one can
cut a coat and do nothin' else, for he is an artist. The other
can put the parts together, for he is a workman only. Now the
doctor is a man of talent and learning, an uncommon man, but
he don't know common things at all. He cPin cut out a garment,
but he can't stitch a button-hole^

CHAPTER IX.

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

The room in which we breakfasted was about eighteen feet
square, having a large old-fashioned fire-place opposite to the
front door, which opened directly on the lawn. The walls were
fancifully ornamented with moose and deer horns, fowling-pieces,

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

115

pieces,

fishiiiR-Todfl, landing nets and baskets, bows and arrows of every
description, and Indian relics, such na stone hatchets, bowls,
rude mortars, images, war clubs, wampum, and implements not
unlike broad swords made of black birch, the ed^es of which
were inlaid with the teeth of animals, or the shells of fish, ground
sharp. Besides these, were skulls of great size and in good pre-
servation, stone pipes, pouches, and so on ; also some enormous
teeth and bones of an antediluvian animal, found in the Bras
Dor lake in Cape Breton. It was, take it altogether, the most
complete collection of relics of this interesting race, the Micmacs,
and of natur's products to be found in this province. Some of
the larger moose horns are ingeniously managed, so as to form
supports for polished slabs of hardwood for tables. The doctor
intormed me that this department of his museum was under the
sole direction of the sergeant, who called it his armoury, and to
whose experience in the arrangement of arms he was indebted
for the good effect they produced. The only objection he said
be had to it Avas, that classification had been sacrificed to ap-

{)earance, and things were very much intermixed ; but his col-
ection was too small to make this a matter of any importance.

Jackson, as soon as the doctor was similarly engaged in show-
ing them to the captain and the Miss McDonalds, for whom
they seemed to have a peculiar interest, mounted guard over me.

" You see. Sir," said he, " the moose horns are the oidy thing
of any size here, and that's because the moose is half English,
you know. Everything is small in this country, and degenerates,
Sir. The fox ain't near as big as an English one. Lord, Sir,
the ounds would run down one o' these fellows in ten minutes.
They haven't got no strength. The rabbit too is a mere no-
think ; he is more of a cat, and looks like one too, when he is
hanged in a snare. It's so cold, nothin' comes to a right size
here. The trees is mere shrubbery compared to our hoaxes. The
pine is taU, but then it has no sap. It's aU tar and turpentine,
and that keeps the frost out of its heart. The fish that live under
the ice in the winter are all iley, in a general way, like the
whales, porpoises, dog-fish, and cod. The liver of the cod is all
lie, and women take to drinkin' it now in cold weather to keep
their blood warm. Depend upon it. Sir, in two or three genera-
tions they wiU shine in the sun like niggers. Porter would be
better for 'em to drink than ile, and far more pleasanter too. Sir,
wouldn't it ? It would fiU 'em out. Saving your presence, Sir,
you never see a girl here with — "

" Hush ! the ladies will hear you," I said.

" I ax your Honour's pardon ; perhaps I am making too bold,
but it's nateral for a man that has seed so much of the world as

116

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

I have to talk a bit, especially as my tongue is absent on fur-
X)Ugh more nor half the year, and then the old 'ooman's goes on
duty, and never fear, Sir, her'n don't sleep at its post. She has
seen too much sarvice for that. It don't indeed. It hails every
one that passes the sentry-box, and makes 'em advance and give
the countersign. A man that has seed so much, Sir, in course
has a good deal to talk about. Now, Sir, I don't want to un-
dervaly the oms at no rate, but Lord bless vou, Sir, I have seen
the orns of a wild sheep, when I was in tne Medeteranion, so
large, I could hardly lift them with one hand. They say young
foxes sleep in them sometimes. Oh, Sir, if they would only get
a few of them sheep, and let them loose here, there would be
some fun in unting of them. They are covered over with air in
summer, and they are so wild you can't take them no other way
than by shooting of them. I'hen, Sir, there is the oms of — "

" But how is the moose half English ? " sais I.

" Why, Sir, I heard our colour-sergeant M'Clure say so when
we was in Halifax. He was a great reader and a great arguor,
Sir, as most Scotchmen are. I used to say to him, ' M'Clure,
it's a wonder you can fight as well as you do, for in England
fellows who dispute all the time commonly take it all out in
words.'

" One day. Sir, a man passed the north barrack gate, tump-
ing (as he said, which means in English, Sir, hauling) an im-
mense bull moose on a sled, though why he didn't say so, I don't
know, unless he wanted to show he knew what M'Clure calls
the botanical word for it. It was the largest hanimal I ever saw
here."

" Says Mac to him, * What do you call that creature ? '

" * Moose,' said he.

" * Do you pretend to tell me,' said Mac, * that that henor-
mous hanimal, with orns like a deer, is a moose ? '

" * I don't pretend at all,' said he ; ' I think I bought to know
one when I see it, for I have killed the matter of a undred of
them in my day.'

" ' It's a daumed lee,' said the sergeant. ' It's no such thing;
I wouldn't believe it if you was to swear to it.'

" ' Tell you what,' said the man, ' don't go for to tell me that
again, or I'll lay you as flat as he is in no time,' and he cracked
his whip and moved on.

" ' What's the use,' said I, ' M'Clure, to call that man a liar ?
How do you know whether it is a moose or not, and he is more
like to get its name right than you, who never saw one afore.'

" ' Moose,' said he, ' do you take me for a fool ? do you sup-
pose he is a goiu' to cram me with such stuff as that ? The idea

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

117

of hia pretending to tell me that a creature six feet high with
great snreading antlers like a deer is a moose, when in fnct they
are no oigger than a cock-roach, and can run into holes the size
of a sixpence ! Look at me — do you see anything very green
about me ? '

"'Why, Mac,' sais T, 'as sure as the world you mean a
mouse.'

" * Well, I said a moose,' he replied.

" ' Yes, I know you said a moose, but that's not the way to
pronounce a mouse. It may be g ^otch, but it ain't English.
Do you go into that hardware shop, and ask for a moose-trap,
and see how the boys will wink to each (/ther, and laugh at you.'

•' ' A man,' sais he, drawing himself up, ' who has learned
humanity at Glaskee, don't require to be taught how to pro-
nounce moose.'

" ' As for your humanity,' said I, * I never see much of that.
If you ever had that weakness, you got bravely over it, and the
glass key must have been broke years agone in Spain.'

" ' You are getting impertinent,' said he, and ho walked off
and left me.

" It's very strange, your Honour, but I never saw an Irishman
or Scotchman yet that hadn't the vanity to think he spoke Eng-
lish better than we do."

« But the Yankees ? " said I.

" Well, Sir, they are foreigners, you know, and only speak
broken English ; but they mix up a deal of words of their own
with it, and then wonder you don't understand them. They keep
their mouths so busy chawing, they have to talk through their
noses.

" A few days after that. Sir, we walked down to the market-
place, and there was another of these hanimals for sale. But
perhaps I am making too bold. Sir ? "

" No, no, not at all ; go on. I like to hear you."

" ' Well,' said M'Clure to the countryman, ' What do you
call that ? '

" • A moose,' said he.

" Well, I gives him a nudge of my helbow, to remind him
not to tell him it wtis a * daumed lee,' as he did the other man.

" ' What does moose mean, my man ? '

" Would you believe it, Sir, he didn't like that word * my
man,' partikelarly coming from a soldier, for they are so higuor-
ant here they affect to look do^vn upon soldiers, and call 'em
' thirteen pences.'

" ' Mean,' said he, * it means that,^ a-pointin' to the carcass.
* Do you want to buy it ? '

Hri

118

THE PLUIUL OF MOOSE.

" ' Hem ! ' miid !>riic. ' Well now, my pood fellow — ' •

" Oh, Sir, if you had a seen the coujitrynmn when he heard
them words, it would a been as jijood as a piny. Jle eyed him
all over, very seoniful, as if he was taking his meanure and weight
for throwing him over the sled by his cape and bin trouHerSjand
then he put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, and toc^k out a
large black fig of coarse tobacco, and bit a piece out of it, as if
it was an apple, and fell too a chewing of it, as if to vent his
wrath on it, but said nothing.

" * Well, my good fellow,' said Mac, ' when there are more
than one, or they are in the plural number, what do y^u call
them ? •

" ' Mice,' said the fellow.

"'Mice!' said M'Clure, 'I must look into that; it's very
odd. Still, it can't be mooses either.'

" He didn't know what to make of it ; he had been puzzled
with mouse before, and found he was wrong, so he thought it
was possible ' mice ' might be the right word after all.

•' ' Well,' said he, * what do you call the female moose ? '

" ' Why,' sais the man, * I guess,' a-talkin' through his nose
instead of his mouth — ho»v I hate that Yankee way, don't you,
Sir ? ' Why,' sais he, ' I guess we call the he-moose M, and the
other N, as the case may be.'

" * Who gave them tnat name ? ' said M'Clure.

" ' Why, I reckon,' -aid the other, * their godfathers and god-
mothers at their baptism, but I can't say, for I wam't there.'

" * I say. my man,' said M'Clure, ' you had better keep a civil
tongue in your head.'

" ' Ask me no questions, then,* said the countryman, * and
I'll tell you no lies ; but if you think to run a rig on me, you
have made a mistake in the child, and barked up the wrong tree,
that's all. P'raps I ain't so old as you be, but I wam't bom
yesterday. So slope, if you please, for I want to sneeze, and if
I do, it will blow your cap over the market-house, and you'll be
lucky if your head don't go along with it."

" * Come away,' said 1, ' Mac, that fellow has no more man-
ners than a heathen.'

" * He's an hignorant beast,' said he, * he is beneath notice.'

" The man card that, and called after him, * Hofficer, hofficer,'
said he.

" That made M'Clure atop, for he was expectin' to be one
every day, and the word sounded good, and Scotchmen, Sir, ain't
like other people, pride is as natural as oatmeal to them. The
man came up to us limpin'.

" * Hofficer,' said he, ' I ax your pardon if I offended you, I

: ■

; ),f-

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

119

thought you wna a pokin' fun at nu\ for I nin nothing; but a
poor I»ij;norant fjirmer, from the oountrv, and thoso towri.^jw'ople
are always niakinpf game of us. I'll tell you all about that are
moose and how 1 killed him. lie urt mv feelins, Sir, or I
never would have mislested him, for Zaek NVilcox is as good-
natured a chap, it's generally allowed, as ever lived. Yes, he
trod on my toes, I don't feel right yet, and when any fellow
does that to me, why there ain't no mistake about it, his time
is out and the sentence is come to nass. He begged for his life,
oh, it was piteous to see him. I aon't mean to say the dumb
beast spoke, but his looks were so beseeching just the way if
you was tied up to the halbert to be whipped, you'd look at the
general.'

"'Me?' saidM'Clure.

" * Yes, you or anybody else,' said the man. 'AVell,' said
he, *I told him I wouldn't shoot him, I'de give him one chance
for his life, but if he escaped he'd be deaf for ever afterwards.
Poor feller, I didn't intend to come it quite so strong, but he
couldn't stand the shock I gave him, and it killed hiiu —
frightened him to death.*

"'How?' saidM'Clure.

" * Why,' sais he, * I'll tell you,' and he looked cautiously all
round, as if he didn't want any one to know the secret. ' I
gave him a most an almighty hambler that fairly keeled him over.'

"'What?' saidM'Clure.

" * AVhy,' sais he, ' I gave him,' and he bent forward towards
his hear as if to whisper the word, ' I gave him a most thun-
derin' everlastin' loud — ' and he gave a yell into his hear that
was card clean across the harbour, and at the ospital beyond
the dockyard, and t'other way as far as Fresh-water Bridge.
Nothin' was hever eard like it before.

" M'Clure sprang backwards the matter of four or five feet,
and placed his hand on his side arms, while the countryman
brayed out a horse laugh that nearly took away one's earing.
The truck-men gave him a cheer, for they are all Irishmen, and
they don't like soldiers commonly on account of their making
them keep the peace at ome at their meetin' of monsters, and
there was a general commotion in the market. We beat a re-
treat, and when we got out of the crowd, sais I, ' M'Clure, that
comes of arguing with every one you meet. It's a bad habit.'

" ' I wasn't arguing,' sais he, quite short, ' I was only asking
questions, and how can you ever learn if you don't inquire ? '

" Well, when he got to the barrack, he got a book wrote by
a Frenchman, called Buffoon."

"A capital name," sais I, " for a Frenchman," but he didn't

120

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

tako, for there is no more fun in an Englishman than a dough
pudding, and went on without stopping.

"fSais he, 'this author is all wrong. lie calls it han 'hori-
ginnl,' but ho ain't a native animal, it's half English and half
Yankee. Some British cattle at a remote period have been
wrecked here, strayed into the woods, and erded with the Car-
riboo. It has the ugly carcass and ide of the ox, and has taken
the orns, short tail, and its speed from the deer. That accounts
for its being larger than the native stogs.' I think he was
right, Sir, what is your opinion?"

The doctor ana the rest of the porty coming up just put
nn end to Jackson's dissertation on the origin of the moose.
The former said,

" Come, Mr Slick, suppose we try the experiment of the
bow," and Jessie, seeing us preparing for shooting, asked the
doctor for smaller ones for her sister and herself. The targets
were accordingly prepared, and placing myself near one of them,
I discharged the gun and removed a few paces on one side, and
commenced as rapidly as I could to reload, but the doctor had
sent three arrows through mine before I had finished. It re-
quired almost as little time as a revolver. He repeated the trial
again with the same result.

" What do you think of the bow now ?" said he in triumph.
" Come, Captain, do you and Mr Slick try your luck, and see
what sort of shots you can make." The captain, who was an
experienced hand with the gun, after a few attempts to ascertain
the power and practice necessary, made capital play with the
boAV, and his muscular arm rendered easy to him that which re-
quired of me the utmost exertion of my strength. Jesjie and
her sister now stept forward, and measuring off a shortv. dis-
tance, took their stations. Their shooting, in which th(;y were
quite at home, was truly wonderful. Instead of using the bow
as we did, so as to bring the arrow in a line with the eve, they
held it lower down, in a way to return the elbow to the right
side, much in the same manner that a skilful sportsman shoots
from the hip. It seemed to be no sort of exertion whatever to
them, and every arrow was lodged in the inner circle. It seemed
to awaken them to a new existence, and in their excitement I
observed they used their mother tongue.

" Beg your pardon. Sir," said Jackson to the doctor, put-
ting his hand to his forehead, " if our sharp-shooters in Spain
ad ad bows like yours, in their scrimmages virith the French light
troops, they would ave done more service and made less noise
about it than they did." And saluting me in the same manner,
he said in an under-tone,

}

TIIK PLIHAL OF MOO.SE.

121

" If I nd ml oiM» of thfin nt Hndnjoz, Sir, I think I'd n put n
11 ill that troojwr'H iiumth t'» writ** the aocoutit of thr way ho

h)Ht hirt t'hiu't. A Hh

)fth

Sir.

ainon^ a troop of cavalry
>vouhl liavo sent riders flying, and hones kicking, as lind as a
shower of grape. Then* is no danger of shooting your lingers
otf with them, Sir, or tiring away your ramrod. No, tliere aia't,
is there, Sir?"

"Tom, do'ee put on your hat now, that's a good soul," said
his attentive wife, who had followed him out a third time to re-
mind him of his danger. " Oh, Sir," said she, again addressing
me, " what signifies a armless thing like an harrow ; that's nothiu
but a little wooden rod to the stroke of the sun, as they calls
it. See what a dreadful cut it's given him."

Tom looked very impatient at this, but curbed in his vexa-
tion, and said " Thankee, Betty," though his face expressed any-
thing but thanks. "Thankee, Betty. There, the doctor is
calling you. She is as good a creature. Sir, as ever lived," ho
continued; "and has seen a deal of service in her day. But
she bothers me to death about that stroke of the sun. Some-
times I think I'll tell her all about it ; but I don't like to de-
mean myself to her. She wouldn't think nothin' of me, Sir, if
she thought I could nave been floored that way ; and women,
when they begin to cry, throw up sometime what's disagree-
able. They ain't safe. She would perhaps have heaved up in
my face that that dragoon had slapped my chops for me, with
his elmet. I am bloved. Sir, if I can take a glass ot grog out of my
canteen, but she says, ' Tom, mind that stroke of the sun.' And
when I ave a big D marked agin my name in the pension book,
she'll swear, to her dying day, I was killed by that are stroke."

" "Why don't you put it on then," I said, "just to please her."

" "Well, Sir, if I waf» at head-quarters, or even at ban hout-
post, where there was a detachment, I would put it hon ; be-
cause it wouldn't seem decent to go bare-headed. But Lord
bless you, Sir, what's the use of a hat in the woods, where there
is no one to see you ? "

Poor fellow, he didn't know what a touch of human nature
there was in that expression, " whaVs the use of a hat in the
tfoods, where there is no one to see you ? "

The same idea, though differently expressed, occurs to so
many. "Yes," said I to myself, "put on your hat for your
wife's sake, and your own too ; for though you may fail to get a
stroke of the sun, you may get not an inflammation of the brain,
fur there ain't enough of it for that complaint to feed on, but
rheumatism in the head ; and that will cause a plaguey sight
more pain than the dragoon's helmet ever did, by a long chalk."

122 THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

But, to get back to my story, for the way I travel through
a tale is like the way a child goes to school. He leaves the
path to chase a butterfly, or to pick wild strawberries, or to run
after his hat that has blown oft', or to take a shy at a bird, or
throw off his shoes, roll up his trousers, and wade about the
edge of a pond to catch polly-wogs ; but he gets to school in
the eend, though somewhat of the latest, so I have got back at
last, you see.

Mother used to say, "Sam, your head is always a wool-
gathering."

" I am glad of it," says I, " marm."

" Why, Sam," she'd say, " why, what on earth do you mean ? "

" Because, marm," I'd reply, " a head that's alway a gather-
ing will get well stored at last."

"Do get out," the dear old soul would say, "I do believe,
in my heart, you are the most nimpent (impudent), idlest, good-
for-nothingest boy in the world. Do get along."

But she was pleased, though, after all ; for women do like to
repeat little things like them, that their children say, and ask
other people, who don't hear a word, or if they do. only go right
off" and laugh at 'em : " Ain't that proper 'cute now ? Make a
considerable smart man when he is out of his time, and finished
his broughtens up, won't he ? "

Well, arter the archery meeting was over, and the congre-
gation disparsed, who should I find myself a walkin' down to the
lake with but Jessie ? How it was, I don't know, for I warn't a
lookin' for her, nor she for me ; but so it was. I suppose it is
human natur, and that is the only way I can account for it.
Where there is a flower, there is the bee ; where the grass is
sweet, there is the sheep ; where the cherry is ripe, there is the
bird ; and where there is a gall, especially if she is pretty, there
it is likely I am to be found also. Yes, it must be natur.
Well, we walked, or rather, strolled off easy. There are different
kinds of gaits, and they are curious to observe ; for I consait
sometimes I can read a man's character in his walk. The child
trots ; the boy scarcely touches the ground with his feet, and
how the plague he wears his shoes out so fast I don't know.
Perhaps Doctor Lardner s.an tell, but I'll be hanged if I can,
for the little critter is so light, he don't even squash the grass.
The sailor waddles like a duck, and gives his trousers a jerk to
keep them from going down the masts (his legs) by the run ;
a sort of pull at the main-brace. The soldier steps solemn and
formal, as if the dead march in Saul was a play in'. A man and
his wife walk on different sides of the street ; he sneaks along
head down, and she struts head up, as if she never heard the

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

123

rough
2S the
to run
ird, or
it the
ool in
ack at

wool-

leanr
^ather-

3elieve,
;, good-
like to
md ask
;o right
Make a
[inished

congre-
1 to the
^-arn't a
)se it is
for it.
Trass is
e is the
y, there
> natur.
liffereut
consait
le child
?et, and
; know.
f I can,
e grass,
jerk to
he run;
smn and
nan and
:s along
ard the

old proverb, *' "Woe to the house where the hen crows." They
leave the carriage-way between them, as it' ttiev were afraid
their thoughts could be heard. When meetin' is out, a lover
lags behind, as if he had nothin' above particular to do but to
go home ; and he is in no hurry to do that, for dinner won't be
ready this hour. But, as soon as folks are dodged by a blue
bonnet with pink ribbons ahead, he pulls foot like a lamp-
lighter, and is up with the gall that wears it in no time, and
she whips her arms in hisn, and they saunter off, to make the
way as long as possible. She don't say, " Pcfoit'^rful sermon
that, wam't it ?" and he don't reply, "1 heerd nothin' but the
text, ' Love one another.' " Nor does he squeeze her arm with
his elbow, nor she pinch his with her little blue-gloved lingers.
Watch them after that, for they go so slow, they almost crawl,
they have so much to say, and they want to make the best of
their time ; and besides, walking fast would put them out of
breath.

The articled-clerk walks the streets with yn air as much
like a military man as he can ; and it resembles it almost as
much as electrotype ware does silver. He tries to look at ease,
though it is a great deal of trouble ; but he imitates him to a
hair in some things, for he stares impudent at the galls, has a
cigar in his mouth, dresses snobbishly, and talks of making a
book at A'^rot. The young lawyer struts along in his seven-
league boots, has a white-bound book in one hand, and a parcel
of papers, tied with red tape, in the other. He is in a desperate
hurry, and as sure as the world, somebody is a dying, nd has
sent for him to make his will. The Irish priest walks like a
warder who has the keys. There is an air of authority about
him. He puts his cane down on the pavement hard, as much
as to say. Do you hear that, you spalpeen ? He has the secrets
of all the pansh in his keeping ; but they are other folk's
secrets, and not his own, and of course, so much lighter to
carry, it don't prevent him looking like a jolly fellow, as he is,
arter all. The high-churchman has an M.B. waistcoat on, is

f)articular about his dress, and walks easy, like a gentleman,
ooks a little pale about the gills, like a student ; brit has the
air of a man that wanted you to understand — I am about my
work, and I would have you to know I. am the boy to do it, and
do it too without a fuss. If he meets a bishop, he takes his
hat oif, for he admits his authority. If a beggar accosts him,
he slips some charity in his hands, and looks scared lest he
should be seen.

The low-churchman hates the M.B. vestment, it was him
who christened it. He is a dab at nick-names. He meant it

12t

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

! ^

to signify tlie Mark of the Beast. He likes the broad-brimmed
beaver, it's more like a quaker, and leos like a pope. It is pri-
mitive. He looks better fed than the other, and m better care.
Preaehin' he finds in a general way easier than practice. "VVatch
his face as he goes along, slowly and solemncoly through the
street. He looks so good, all the women that see him say,
" Ain't he a dear man ? " He is meekness itself. Butter
wouldn't melt in his mouth. He has no pride in him. If there
is any, it ain't in his heart at any rate. Perhaps there is a
little grain in his legs, but it never got any higher. Sometimes,
I suspect they have been touched with the frost, for the air of
a dinmg-room is colder under the table than above it, and his
legs do march stiff and formal like a soldier's, but then, as he
says, he is of the church militant. See what a curious ex-
pression of countenance he has when he meets his bishop,
llead it, it says : " Now, my old Don, let us understand each
other ; you may ordain and confirm, but don't you go one inch
beyond that. No synods, no regeneration in baptism, no con-
trol for me ; I won't stand it. My idea is every clergyman is a
bishop in his own parish, and his synod is composed of pious
galls that work, and rich spinsters that give. If you do interfere,
I will do my duty and rebuke those in high places. Don't rile
me, for I have an ugly pen, an ugly tongue, and an ugly temper,
and nothing but my sanctity enables me to keep them under."
If he is accosted by a beggar, he don't, like the other, give him
money to squander, but he gives him instruction. He presents
him »vith a tract. As he passes on, the poor wretch pauses and
looks after him, and mutters — "Is it a prayer ? most likely, for
that tract must be worth something, for it cost something to
print."

Then there is the sectarian lay-brother. He has a pious
walk, looks well to his ways lest he should stumble, and casting
his eyes down, kills two birds with one stone. He is in deep
meditation about a contract for a load of deals, and at the same
time regards his steps, for the ways of the world are slippery.
His digestion is not good, and he eats pickles, for the vinegar
shows in his face. Like Jehu Judd, he hates "fiddling and
dancing, and serving the devil," and it is lucky he has a down-
cast look, for here come two girls that would shock him into an
ague.

Both of them have the colonial step and air, both of them
too are beautiful, as Nova Scotia girls generally are. The first
is young and delicate, and as blooming as a little blush-rose.
She holds out with each hand a portion of her silk di-ess, as if
she was walking a minuet, and it discloses a snow-white petti-

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

125

coat, and such a dear little foot and ankle — lick ! Iler step is
short and mincing. She has a new bonnet on, just imported by
the last English steamer. It has a horrid name, it is called a
kiss-me-. uick. It is so far back on hei head, she is afraid people
will think she is hare-faced, so she casts her eyes down, as much
as to say, " Don't look at me, please, I am so pretty I am afraid
you will stare, and if you do I shall faint, as sure as the world,
and if you want to look at my bonnet, do pray go behind me,
for what there is of it is all there. It's a great trial to me to
walk alone, when I am so pretty." So she compresses her sweet
lips with such resolution, that her dear little mouth looks so
small you'd think it couldn't take in a sugar-plum. Oh, dear,
here are some officers approaching, for though she looks on the
pavement she can see ahv ad for all that. "What is to be done.
She half turns aside, half is enough, to turn her back would be
rude, and she looks up at a print or a necklace, or something or
another in a shop window, and it's a beautiful attitude, and
very becoming, and if they will stare, she is so intent on the
show glass, she can't see them, and won't faint, and her little
heart flutters as one of them says as he passes, " Devilish pretty
gall, that. Grant, who is she ?" and then she resumes her walk,
and minces on.

If any man was to take his Bible oath that that little deli-
cate girl, when she gets home, and the hall-door is shut, will
scream out at the tip eend of her voice, like a screetching para-
quet, "Eliza Euphemia, where in creation have you stowed
yourself too?" and that Eliza Euphemia would hear her away
up in the third story, and in the same key answer : " I can't
come down, I ain't fit to be seen, nary way, for I'm all open
before, and onfastened behind, and my hair is aU in paper,"
I wouldn't believe him ; would you ?

The other young lady, that follows, is a little too much of
Juno, and somewhat too little of Venus. She is a tall, splendid-
looking heifer, as fine a gall as you wiU see in any country, and
she takes it for granted you don't need to inquire who she is.
She ain't bold, and she ain't diffident ; but she can stare as weii
as you can, and has as good a right too. Her look is scorny, as
the snobocracy pass and do homage, by bestowing on her an ad-
miring look. Her step is firm, but elastic ; it is a decided step,
but the pious lay-brother regards her not, and moves not out of
his way for her. So she stops that he may see his error, and
when he does look, he perceives that it would lead him into fur-
ther error if he gazed long, so he moves to the other side of the
path, but does it so slowly, she confronts him again. After a
moment's reflection, he tries to turn her flank — a movement that

120

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

is unfortunately anticipated Ijy lier, and there is a collision on
the track. The concussion dislocates his hat, and the red silk
Bandannah handkerchief, which acted as travelling-bag, and
pocket-book, discharges its miscellaneous contents on the pave-
ment. That's onlucky ; for he was a going to shunt off on an-
other line and get away ; but he has to stop and pick up the
fragmentary freight of his beaver.

Before he can do this, he is asked by Juno how he dares to
stop a lady in that indecent manner in the street ; and while he
is pleading not guilty to the indictment, the gentlemen that
stared at the simpering beauty, come to the aid of the fair pro-
secutrix. She knows them, and they say, " Capital, by Jove —
what a rum one he is ! " Kum one ; why he is a member of a
temperance society, walks in procession when to home, with a
white apron in front, and the ends of a scarf-like sash behind,
and a rosette as large as a soup-plate on his breast — a rum one ;
what an infamous accusation !

The poor man stands aghast at this ; he humbly begs pardon,
and Juno is satisfied. She takes one of the beaux by the arm,
and says : " Do pray see me home — I am quite nervous ; " and
to prove it she laughs as loud as any of them. The joke is now
being carried too far, and the young sword-knots pick up, amid
roars of laughter, his handkerchief, the papers, the horn-comb,
the fig of tobacco, the fractured pipe, the jack-knife, and the
clean shirt-collar, that was only worn once, and toss them into
his hat, which is carefully secured on his head, so low as to cover
his eyes, and so tight as nearly to shave off both his ears. The
lay-brother thinks, with great truth, that he would sooner take
five yoke of oxen, and tail a mast for a frigate through the solid
forest to the river, than snake his way through the streets of a
garrison-to^vn. After re-adjusting his hat, he resumes his pious
gait, and Jimo also goes her way, and exhibits her decided step.

Now, the step of Jessie and myself was unlike any of these —
it was a natural and easy one ; the step of people who had no
reason to hurry, and, at the same time, were not in the habi+ of
crawling. In this manner we proceeded to the lake, and sought
a point of land which commanded a full view of it on both sides,
and embraced nearly its whole length. Here was a clump of
tre 3s from which the underwood had been wholly cut away, so
as to form a shade for the cattle depasturing in the meadow. As
we entered the grove, Jessie exclaimed :

" Oh ! Mr Slick, do look ! Here is a canoe — can you use a
paddle?"

"As well as an oar," said I, "and perhaps a little grain
better J for I haven't been down all the New Brunswick and

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

127

Nova Scotia rivers in 'em for nothing, let alone Lake '^^icllii»nn,
George, ^Nladawaska, and liossignol, and I don't know how many
others. Step in, and let us have at them on the water."

In a minute the canoe was launched, and awav we flew like
lightning. Oh, there is nothing like one of those light, elegant,
graceful barks ; what is a wherry or a whale-boat, or a skull or
a gig, to them ? They draw no more water than an egg-shell ;
they require no strength to paddle ; they go right up on the
beach, and you can carry them about like a basket. With a light
hand, a cool head, and a quick eye, you can make them go where
a duck can. What has science, and taste, and handicraft ever
made to improve on this simple contrivance of the savage? When
I was for two years in John Jac ^b Astor Fur Company's em-
ployment, I knew the play of Jessie's tribe.

" Can you catch," said I, " Miss ? "

"Canyon?"

" Never fear."

And we exchanged paddles, as she sat in one end of the canoe
and I in the other, by throwing them diagonally at each other
as if we were passing a shuttle-cock. She almost screamed with
delight, and in her enthusiasm addressed me in her native Indian
language.

" Gaelic," said I, " give ii ■ Gaelic, dear, for I am very simple
and very innocent."

" Oh, very," she said, and as she dropped her paddle into the
water, managed to give me the benefit of a spoonful in the eyes.

After we had tried several evolutions with the canoe, and had
proceeded homeward a short distance, we opened a miniature
bay into which we leisurely paddled, until we arrived at its head,
where a small waterfall of about forty feet in height poured its
tributary stream into the lake. On the right-hand side, which
was nearest to the house, was a narrow strip of verdant intervale,
dotted here and there with vast shady beeches and elms. X never
saw a more lovely spot. Hills rose above each other beyond the
waterfall, like buttresses to support the conical one that, though
not in itself a mountain (for there is not, strictly speaking, one
in this province), yet loomed as large in the light mist that en-
veloned its lofty peak. As this high cliff rose abruptly from the
lake, the light of smaller cascades was discernible through the
thin shrubbery that clothed its rocky side, although their voice
was drowned in the roar of that at its base.

Nothing was said by either of us for some time, for both were
occupied by different thoughts. I was charmed with its extra-
ordinary beauty, and wondered how it was possible that it should
be so Kttle known as not even to have a name. My companion,

128

THE PLURAL OF MO JSE.

In I

on tho other hand, was enf^aged in sad reflections, which tlic si-
milarity of the scene with her early recollections of her home in
the far west suggested to her mind.

"Ain't this beautiful, Jessie?" I said, "don't this remind
you of Canada, or rather your own country ? "

"Oh, yi s" she said, "me — me," for during the whole day
there had beer a sad confusion of languages t.nd idioms, " me
very happy and very sad ; I want to laugh, I want to cry ; I am
here and there," pointing to the north-west. " Laughing, talk-
ing, spoi-ting with my father, and Jane, and you, and am also by
the side of my dear mother, far — far beyond those hills. I see
your people and my people ; I paddle in our canoe, shoot with
our bows, speak our language ; yes, I am here, and there also.
The sun too is in both places. He sees us all. When I die,
perhaps I shall go back, out I am not of them or of you — I am
nothing," and she burst into tears and wept bitterly.

" Jessie," said I, " let us talk about something else ; you have
been too mnch excited this morning, let us enjoy what God
gives us, and not be ungrateful ; let your sister come also, and
try the canoe once more. This is better than a hot room,
ain't it?"

" Oh yes," she replied, "this is life. This is freedom."

" Suppose we dine here," I said.

" Oh yes," she replied, " I should like it above all things.
Let us dine on the grass, the table the great Spirit spreads for
his children ; " and the transient cloud passed away, and we srjed
back to the lawn as if the bark that carried us was a bird tliat
bore us on its wings.

Poor Jessie, how well I understood her emotions. Home is
a word, if there is one in the language, that appeals directly to
the heart. Man and wife, father and mother, brothers and
sisters, master and servant, with all their ties, associations, and
duties, all, all are contained in that one word. Is it any wonder,
when her imagination raised them up before her, that the woman
became again a child, and that she longed for the wings of the
dove to fly away to the tents of her tribe in the far west ? I am
myself as dry, as seasoned, and as hard as the wood of which my
clocks are made. I am a citizen of the world rather than of
Slickville. But I too felt my heart sink within me when I re-
flected that mine, also, was desolate, and that I was alone in my
own house, the sole surviving tenant cf all that large domestic
circle, whosr meny voices once made iis silent halls vocal with
responsive echoes of happiness. We know that our fixed domi-
cile is not here, but we feel that it is and must continue to be
our home, ever dear and ever sacred, until we depart hence for

¥ is

THE PLURAL OF MOOSL.

120

aridther niul a hcttiT world. They know but littlo of tno ni^ency
vt' humfin feelini^s, wlio in tlu'ir |)roaclHni; atttMiipt to h'-sseu
our attarhmi'iit for the paternal roof, l)eeauae, in eonnnon with
all other earthly possessions, it is perishable in its nature, and
uncertain in its tenure. The home of life is not the less es-
timable because it is not the home of eternity ; but the more
valuable perha|)3 as it prepares and lits us by its joys and its
sorrows, its rights and its duties, and also by what it withholds,
as well as imparts, for that inheritance which awaits us hereafter.
Yes, home is a great word, but its full meaning ain't understood
by every one.

It ain't those who have one, or those who have none, that
comprehend what it is ; nor those who in the course of nature
leave the old and found a new one for themselves ; nor those
who, when they quit, shut their eyes and squinch their faces
when they think of it, as if it fetched something to their mind
that warn't pleasant to recollect ; nor those who suddenly rise
so high in life, that their parents look too vulgar, or the old
cottage too mean for them, or their former acquaintances too low.
J3ut I'll tell you who knows the meaning and feels it too ; a
fellow like me, who had a cheerful home, a merry and a happy
home, and who when he returns from foreign lands finds it
deserted and as still as the grave, and all that he loved scattered
and gone, some to the tomb, and others to distant parts of the
earth. The solitude chills him, the silence appals him. At
night shadows follow him like ghosts of the departed, and the
walls echo back the sound of his footsteps, as if demons were
laughing him to scorn. The least noise is heard over the w^hole
house. The clock ticks so loud he has to remove it, for it affects
his nerves. The stealthy mouse tries to annoy him with his
]nimic personification of the burglar, and the wind moans among
the trees as if it lamented the general desolation. If he strolls
out in his grounds, the squirrel ascends the highest tree and
chatters and scolds at the unusual intrusion, while the birds fly
away screaming with aftright, as if pursued by a vulture. They
used to be tame once, when the family inhabited the house, and
listen with wonder at notes sweeter and more musical than their
own. They would even feed from the hand that protected them.
His dog alone seeks his society, and strives to assure him by
mute but expressive gestures that he at least will never desert
him. As he paces his lonely quarter-deck (as he calls the
gravel- walk in front of his house), the silver light of the moon,
gleaming here and there between the stems of the aged trees,
startles him with the delusion of unreal white-robed forms, that
flit about the shady groves as if enjoying or pitving his con-

* 9

130

THE PLURAL OF MOOSE.

dition, or perhaps wnrninj? liim that in a few short years he too
must join this host of disembodied spirits.

Time hangs heavily on his hands, he is tired of reading, it is
too early for repot-e, so he throws himself on the sofa and muses,
but even meditation calls for a truce. His heart laments its
solitude, and his tongue its silence. Nature is weary and ex-
hausted, and sleep at last comes to his aid. But, alas ! he awakes
in the morning only to resume his dull monotonous course, and
at last he fully comprehends what it is to be alone. "Women
•won't come to see him, for fear they might be talked about, and
those that would come would soon make him a subject of scan-
dal. He and the world, like two people travelliii:,' in opposite
directions, soon increase at a rapid rate the distance between
them. He loses his interest in what is going on around him,
and people lose their interest in him. If his name happens to
be mentioned, it may occasion a listless remark, " I wonder how
he spends his time ?" or, " The poor devil must be lonely there."

Yes, yes, there are many folks in the world that talk of
things they don't understand, and there are precious few who
appreciate the meaning of that endearing term " home." He
only knows it as I have said who has lived in one, amid a large
family, of which he is the solitary surviving member. The
change is like going from the house to the sepulchre, w4th this
difference only, one holds a living and the other a dead body.
Yes, if you have had a home you know what it is, but if you
have lost it, then and not till then do you feel its value.

CHAPTEE X.

A DAT ON THE LAKE. — PABT I.

"When we reached the grove, I left Jessie in the canoe, and
■went up to the house in search of her sister. Jackson and Pe-
ter were sitting on the wood-pile ; the latter was smoking his
pipe, and the other held his in his hand, as he v as relating
some ytory of his exploits in Spain. "When I app 'oached, he
I'ose up and saluted me in his usual formal manner.

" Where is the doctor," said I, " and the rest of the party ?"

" Gone to see a tame moose of his, Sir," he said, "in the
pasture ; but they will be back directly."

" Well," sais I, lighting a cigar by Peter's pipe, and taking

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

131

he too

tig, it is
muses,
mts its
and ex-
awakes
pse, and
Women
)ut, and
of sean-
)ppo8ite
jetweeu
ad him,
)pen8 to
der how
r there."
talk of
few who
3." He
I a large
r. The
vith this
,d body,
if you

moe, and
and Pe-
king his
relating
iched, he

party?"
"in the

d taking

ft seat alongside of him, " go on Jackson ; don't let me inter-
rupt you."

" 1 was just telling Mr IMcDonakl Sir," said he, " of a night
I once spent on the field of battle in Spain."

"A^'ell, goon."

" As I was a saying to him, Sir," he continued, " you could
ear the wolves among the dead and the dying a owling like so
many devils. I was afraid to go to sleep, as I didn't know when
my turn might come ; so I put my carbine across my knees, and
sat up as well as I could, determined to sell mv life as dearly as
possible, but I was so w^eak from the loss of blood, that I kept
dozing and starting all the time amost. Oh, wliat a tedious
night 'lat was, Sir, and how I longed for the dawn of day, when
Bear i should be made among us for the wounded ! t as the

fog began to rise, I saw a henormous wolf, abou a hundred
yards or so from me, busy tearing a body to pieces ; and taking
a gotd steady haim at him, I fired, when he called out :

" ' l^lood and ounds ! you cowardly furrm rascal, haven't you
had your belly-full of fighting yet, that you must be after mur-
thering a wounded man that way? By the powers of Moll
Kelly, but you won't serve Pat Kallahan that dirty trick again
anyhow.'

'•As he levelled at me, I fell back, and the ball passed right
over me and struck a wounded orse that was broke down be-
hind, and a sittin' up on his fore-legs like a dog. Oh, the scream
of that are hanimal. Sir, was just like a Christian's. It was
hawful. I have the sound of it in my ears now halraost. It
pierced through me, and you might have eard it that still morn-
ing over the whole field. He sprung up and then fell over, and
kicked and struggled furious for a minute or two before he died,
and every time he lashed out, you could a eard a elpless wounded
wretch a groanin' bitterly, as he battered aw^ay at him. The
truth is. Sir, what I took for a wolf that hazy morning, was poor
Pat, who was sitting up, and trying to bandage his hankie, that
was shattered by a bullet, and tho way he bobbed his head up
and down, as he stooped forward, looked exactly as a wolf does
"when he is tearing the flesh off a dead body.

" "Well, the scream of that are orse, and the two shots the
dragoon and I exchanged, saved my life, for I saw a man and a
woman making right straight for us. It was Betty, Sir, God
bless her, and Sergeant M'Clure. The owling she sot up, when
she saw me, was dreadful to ear. Sir.

" * Betty,' said I, ' dear, for eaven's sake see if you can find
a drop of brandy in any of these poor fellows' canteens, for I am
perishing of thirst, and amost chilled to death.'

< ■ -m

132

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

's not in my

" * Oh, Tom, dear,' Baid nho, ' I Imvo th<>»it,'1it of tlint.' juid
imHlin^inj; otu; I'rotn her Hhoiildcrrt put it to my lips, and 1 hv-
liove I would have drained it at a draft, but aha Huatcliod it away
directly, and said:

"' Oh, do 'eo think of that dreadful stroke of the Hun, Tom.
It will Met you crazy if you drink any more.'

" ' The stroke ot the sun be an^CMl ! ' said I ; * it'e
ead this time— it's in the oth(T end of me.'

"'Oh dear, dear!' said Hetty; 'two sueli marks as them,
and you so handsome too! Oh dear, dear!'

" Poor old soul ! it's a way she had of trying to come round
me.

"'Wliere is it?' said M'Clure,

" * In the calf of my le^,' said I.

" Well, he was a handy man, for he had been a hospital-sar-
geant, on account of being able to read doctors' pot-hooks and
inscriptions. So he cut my boot, and stript down my stocking
and looked at it. Says he, * I must make a turn-and-quit.'

" ' Oh, Itory,' said I, ' don't turn and quit your old comrade
that way.'

" * Oh, Kory, dear,' said Betty, * don't 'ee leave Tom now —
don't 'ee, that's a good soul.'

" ' Pooh ! ' said he, ' nonsense ! How your early training has
been neglected, Jackson ! '

" ' llory,' said I, ' if I was well you wouldn't dare to pass
that slur upon me. I am as well-trained a soldier and as brave
a man as ever you was.'

" ' Tut, tut, man,' said he, ' I meant your learning.'

" ' Well,' says I, * I can't brag much of that, and I am not
sorry for it. INlany a better scholar nor you, and better-look-
ing man too, has been anged afore now, for all his schoolin'.'

" Says he, ' I'll soon set you up, Tom. Let me see if I can
find anything here that will do for a turn-and-quit.'

" Close to where I lay there was a fu rin officer who had
his head nearly amputated with a sabre -ut. Well, he took a
beautiful gold repeater out of his fob, and a great roll of dub-
loons out of one pocket, and a little case of diamond rings out
of the other.

"'The thieving Italian rascal!' said he, 'he has robbed a
jeweller's shop before he left the town,' and he gave the body a
kick and passed on. Well, close to him was an English officer.

" ' Ah,' said he, ' here is something useful,' and he undid his
sash, and then feeling in his breast pocket, he hauled out a tin
tobacco-case, and opening of it, says he :

" ' Tom, here's a real god-send for you. This and the sash

A DAY 0\ Tin: LAKK.

133

I will pivo you ns a kcf'psako. Tlu«y are niiiie by the tortuiio
of war. but I will lu'Htow tlu'in on you.'"

'• Oi-'li ! oii^h !" Hiiid Prtcr, " h)u» waa no shontltMnftn."

"lit' warn't then, Sir," said Tom, not underntandinj; bun,
" for he was only a sargeant liko me at that time, but he ia now,
for he '\n an ollieer."

•' No, no," said Peter, " the kinj^ can make an ofTisher, but
she can't make a sbeiitlcman. She took the oyster hern aiusel,
and pave vou the shell."

" Well," continued Jackson, "he took the sash, and tied it
round my lep, and then took a bayonet off a corpse, and with
that twisted it round and round so tight it urt more nor the
wound, and then he secured the bayonet so that it wouldn't
slip. There was a furrin trooper's orse not far otF that had lost
his rider, and had got his rein bunder his foreleg, so Betty
caught him and brought him to where I was a sitting. By the
baid of another pull at the canteen, wliich put new life into me,
and by their hassiatance, I was got on the saddle, and he and
Betty steadied me on the banimal, and led me oft". I no sooner
got on the orse than Betty fell to a crying and a scolding again
like anything.

'• ' What hails you now,' says I, * Betty ? Tou are like your
own towii of Plymouth — it's showery weather with you all the
year round amost. AVhat's the matter now?'

" ' Oh, Tom, Tom,' said she, * you will break my eart yet —
I know you will.'

" ' Why what have I done ? ' says I. ' I couldn't help get-
ting that little scratch on the leg.'

" ' Oh, it tante that,' she said; ' it's that orrid stroke of the sun.
There's your poor ead huncovered again. Where is your elmet ? '

" ' oil, bother,' sais I, ' ow do I know ? Somewhere on the
ground, I suppose.'

" Well, back she ran as ard as she could, but M'Clure wouldn't
wait a moment for her and went on, and as she couldn't find
mine, she undid the furriner's and brought that, and to pacity
her I had to put it on and wear it. It wj;3 a good day for
M'Clure, and I was glad of it, for he was a great scholar and
the best friend I ever had. He sold the orse for twenty pounds
afterwards."

" She don't want to say nothin' disrespectable," said Peter,
" against her friend, but she was no shentleman for all tat."

" lie is now%" said Tom again, Avith an air of triumph. " He
is an hofficer, and dines at the mess. I don't suppose he'd be
seen with me now% for it's agen the rides of the service, but he
is the best friend I have in the world."

ini

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

"She don't know notliin'H])out ta nuHH hrrself," naid Prtrr,
"but hIic Mii[)|)o«('s hIic ratH meat and drinks winr every tay,

wliieli waH njon* tan whe did am a i)oy. liut nlie'd ratlier live on
oatmeal and drink wliiHkey, and ne a poor Klientlenien. than bo
an ollicher like AM'Clure, and tine with the Queen, Cot bless
her."

'* An<l the old pipe, then, was all you got for youk* share,
was it?" Kays I.

" No, Sir," said Tom, " it wam't. Ouo day, when I was
nearly well, JJetty eauu; to me —

" ' Oh, Tom,' said si..', ' 1 have sueh good news tor you.'

" ' What is it P' sais I, * are we going to have another gener-
al engagement ? '

'"Oh, dear, I hope not,' she said. 'You have had enough
of fighting for one while, and you are always so misfortuuate.'

"'AVell, what isit?' sais I.

" ' Will you promise me not to tell ?'

" ' Yes,' said I, ' I wilL'

" ' That's just what you said the first time I kiased you. Do
get out,' she replied, * and you promise not to lisp a word of it
to Rory M'Clure ? or he'll claim it, as he did that orse, and,
Tom, I cauglit that orse, and he was mine. It was a orrid, nasty,
dirty, mean trick that.'

" ' Betty,' said I, ' I won't ear a word hagin him : he is the
best friend I ever had, but I won't tell him, if you wish it.'

" ' Well,' said Betty, and she bust out crying for joy, for she
can cry at nothing, amost. ' Look, Tom, here's twenty Napo-
leons, I found them quilted in that oflicer's elmet.' So after all,
I got out of that scrape pretty well, didn't I, Sir?"

"Indeed she did," said Peter, "but if she had seen as much
of wolves as Peter McDonald has she wouldn't have been much
frightened by them. This is the way to scare a whole pack of
them ;" and stooping down and opening a sack, he took out tlic
bagpipes, and struck up a favourite Highland air. If it was cal-
culated to alarm the animals of the forest, it at all events served
now to recall the party, who soon made their appearance from
the moose-yard. "Tat," said Peter, "will make 'em scamper
like the tevil. It has saved her life several times."

" So I should think," said I. (For of all the awful instru-
ments that ever was heard that is the worst. Pigs in a bag
ain't the smallest part of a circumstance to it, for the way it
squeals is a caution to cats.) When the devil was a carpenter,
he cut his foot so bad with an adze, he threw it down, and gave
up the trade in disgust. And now that Highlanders have given
up the trade of barbarism, and become the noblest fellows in

A DAY ON Tin: I^VKK.

m.n

she

Kiiropr, tlioy hIk ulil fnllow the devil's cxninph', and throw awny
the l»ai,'|»i|u'rt tor ever.

" 1 luivi* never fvvn M't'lure," sftid JaekHon, addreHxini; ine,
"but onee sinj'e he ilinputed with the eountrvnum ab«)nt the
])hiral of moose in the eountry-nmrket. 1 met him in tlie street
one (hiv, and Haya I,

•" how are you, Kory ? Sjipposo we take a hit of a walk.'

"Well, he Iield up his ead Mtitl* and straight, and didn't
apeak tor a miiuite or two; at last ho said:

"' How do y(}a do, Hargeant Jaekson ?'

"' Why, Kory,' sais I, 'what hails you to haet that way ?
What's the matter with you now, to treat an old comrade in
that manner?'

"llo stared ard at mo in the face hap;aln, without fiivinj;
any explanation. At last he said, ' Sarfj;eant Jaekson,' and then
h(; stopned afjain. ' It" anybody speers at you where Ensign Ko-
derieh iM'Cluro is to be found, say on the second flat of the
otiicers' quarters at the North liarracks,' and he walked on and
left me. lie had got his commission."

"She had a Highland name," said Peter, "and tat is all, but
she was only a lowland Glaskow j^ ust. Ta teivil tack a' such
friends a tat."

" Doctor," said I, " Jessie and I have discovered the canoe,
and had a glorious row of it. I see you have a new skitf tliere ;
suppose we all finish the morning on the lake. AVe have been
ui) to the waterfall, and if it is agreeable to you, Jessie proposes
to dine at the intervale instead of the house."

"Just the thing," said the doctor, "but you understand
these matters better than I do, so just give what instructions
you think proper."

Jackson and Betty were accordingly directed to pack up
what was needful, and hold themselves in readiness to be em-
barked on our return from the excursion on the water. Jessie,
her sister, and myself took the canoe; the doctor and Cutler
the boat, and Peter was placed at the stern to awaken the sleep-
ing eclioes of the lake with his pipes. The doctor seeing me
provided with a short gun, ran hastily back to the house for
his bow and arrows, and thus equipped and grouped, we pro-
ceeded up the lake, the canoe taking the lead. Peter struck \ip
a tune on his pipes. The great expanse of water, and the hu-ge
open area where they were played, as well as the novelty of the
scene, almost made me think that it was not such bad music
after all as I had considered it.

After we had proceeded a short distance, Jessie proposed a
race between the canoe and the boat. I tried to dissuade her

130

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

from it, on account of the fatij^ue she had already undergone,
and the excitement she had manifested at the waterfall, but she
declared herself perfectly well, and able for the contest. The
odds were against the girls; for the captain and the doctor
were both experienced hands, and powerful, athletic man, and
their boat was a Hat-bottomed skiff, and drew but little water.
Added to which, the young women had been long out of practice,
and their hands and muscles were unprepared by exercise. I
yielded at last, on condition that the race should terminate at a
large rock that rose out of the lake at about a mile from us. I
named this distance, not merely because I wished to limit the
extent of their exertion, but because I knew that if they had
the lead that far, they would be unable to sustain it beyond
that, and that they would br beaten by the main strength of the
rowers. We accordingly shn;kened our speed till the boat came
up alongside of us. The challenge was given and accepted, and
the terminus pointed out, and when the signal was made, away
we went with great speed.

For more than two-thirds of the distance we were bow and
bow, sometimes one r.nd sometimes the other being ahead, l>iit
on no occasion did the distance exceed a yard or so. When Ave
had but the remaining third to accomplish, I cautioned the girls
that the rowers would now probably put out all their strength,
and take them by surprise, and therefore advised them to be on
their guard. They said a few words to each other in their na-
tive language, laughed, and at once prepared for the crisis, by
readjusting their seats and foothold, and then the eldest said,
with a look of animation, that made her surpassingly beautiful,
" Now," and away we went like iled lightning, leaving the boat
behind at a rate that was perfectly incredible.

They had evidently been playing with ther^. at first, and
doing no more than to ascertain their speed and power of pro-
pulsion, and had all along intended to reserve themselves for
this triumph at the last. As soon as w e reached the winning
point, I rose up to give the cheer of victory, but just at that
moment, they suddenly backed water with their paddles, and in
turning towards the boat, the toe of my boot caught in one of
the light ribs of the canoe, which had been loosened by the heat
of the sun, and I instantly saw that a fall was unavoidable. To
put a hand on the side of the little bark would inevitably over-
set it, and ])recipitate the girls into the lake. I had but one
resource left therefore, and that was to arch over the gunwale,
and lift my feet clear of it, while I dove into the water. It was
the work of an instant, and in another I had again reached the
cauoe. Begging Jessie to move forward, so as to counter-

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

137

baliince my weight, I rose over the stem (if a craft can be said
to have one, where both ends ;ire alike, and it can be propelled
either way), and then took the seat that had been oc(;upied
by her.

"Now, Jane," said I, "I must return to the house, and
get a dry suit of the doctors olothes ; let us see what we
can do."

The doctor told me Betty knew more about his wardrobe
than he did himself, and would furnish me with what I re-
quired ; and in the mean time, that they would lay upon their
oars till we returned.

" Are you ready. Miss," said I, '* I want you to do your
prettiest now, and put your best foot out, because I wish them
to see that I am not the awkward critter in a canoe they think
lam."

The fact is, Squire, that neither the doctor nor Cutler knew,
that to avoid falling under the circumstances I was placed in,
and to escape without capsizing the canoe, was a feat that no
man, but one familiar with the management of those fragile
barks, and a good swimmer, too, can perform. Peter was aware
of it, and appreciated it. ; out the other two seemed disposed to
cut their jokes upon me ; and them that do that, generally find,
in the long run, I am upsides with them, that's a fact. A cat
and a Yankee always come on their feet, pitch them up in the
air as high and as often as you please.

" Now for it," said I, •\Tid away we went at a 2.30 pace, as
we say of" our trotting horses. Cutler and the doctor cheered
us as we went; and Peter, as the latter told me afterwards,
said : " A man who can dwell like an otter, on both land and
sea, has two lives." I indorse that saw, he made it himself;
it's genuine, and it was like a trapper's maxim. Warn't it ?

As soon as I landed I cut off for the house, and in no time
rigged up in a dry suit of our host's, and joined the party, afore
they knew where they were. I put on a face as like the
doctor's as two clocks of mine are to each other. I didn't do it
to make fun of him, but out of him. Oh, they roared again,
and the doctor joined in it as heartily as any of them, though
he didn't understand the joke. But Peter didn't seem to like
it. He had lived so much among the Indians, and was so ac-
customed to their way of biling things down to an essence,
that he spoke in proverbs, or wise saws. Says he to me, with
a shake of his head, "« mochivg bird has no voice of its own.''''
It warn't a bad sayin', was it ? I wish I had noted more of
them, for though I like 'em, I am so yamey, I can't make them
as pithey as he did. I can't talk short-hand, and I must say I

i-.-rrawa^,h«yBtti

133

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

like condensation. Now, brevity is the only use to individuals
there is in telep^raphs. There is very little good news in the
world for any of us ; and bad news comes fast enough. I hate
them myself. The only good there is in 'em, is to make people
•write short ; for if you have to pay for every word you use,
you won't be extravagant in 'em, there is no mistake.

Telegraphs ruin intellect ; they reduce a wise man to the
level of a fool ; and fifty years hence there won't be a sensible
trader left. For national purposes thoy are very well, and
government ought to have kept thera to themselves, for those
objects ; but they play the devil with merchants. There is no
room for the exercise of judgment. It's a dead certainty now.
Flour is eight dollars in England ; well, every one knows that,
and the price varies, and every one knows that also, by tele-
graph. Before that, a judgmatical trader took his cigar in hia
mouth, sat down, and calculated. Crops short, Russian war,
blockade, and so on. Capital will run up prices, till news of
new harvest are known ; and then they will come down by the
run. He deliberates, reasons, and decides. Now, the last Liver-
pool paper gives the price current. It advises all, and governs
all. Any blockhead can be a merchant now. Formerly, they
poked sapey-headed goneys into Parliament, to play dummey ;
or into the army and navy, the church, and the colonial oflBce.
But they kept clever fellows for law, special commissioners, the
stage, the "Times," the "Chronicle," and such like able papers,
and commerce ; and men of middlin' talents were resarved for
doctors, solicitors, Gretna Green, and so on.

But the misfortinate prince-merchants now will have to go
to the bottom of the list with tradesmen and retailers. They
can't have an opinion of their own, the telegraph will give it.
The latest quotations, as they call them, come to them, they
know that iron is Jirm, and timber giving way, that lead is dull
and heavy, and coal gone to biases, while the stocks are rising
and vessels sinking, all the rest they won't trouble their heads
about. The man who trades with Cuba, won't care about
Sinope, and it's too much trouble to look for it on the map.
AVhile the Black Sea man won't care about Toronto, or whether
it is in Nova Scotia or Vermont, in Canada or California. There
won't soon be a merchant that understands geography.

But what is wuss, half the time the news is false, and if it
hadn't been for that, old Hemp and Iron would have made a
fortune. And if it is true, it's worse still, for he would have
acted on his own judgment if he hadn't heard it, and circum-
stances would have altered as they always are doing every day,
and he would have made a rael hit. Oh, I hate them. And be-

'^o

A DAY 0\ THE LAKE.

130

sides this, they have spoiled them hy swearing the openitora.
An oath gives them fellows such an itch to blart, that though
they don't inform, they let the cat out of the bag, and that is
as bad. Tell you what, I wouldn't like to confess by telegraph.
If I am courting a gall and she sais all right, why then my tun
is spoiled, for when a thing is settled, all excitement is gone,
and if I am refused, the longer I am in ignorance the better. It
is wiser to wait, as the Frenchman did at Clare, who sat up
three nights to see how the letters passed over the wires.
AVell, if I am married, I have to report progress, and log-
books are always made up before or afterwards. It's apt to
injure my veracity. In short, you know what I mean, and
I needn't follow it out, for a nod is as good as a wink to a
blind horse.

But the Lord have mercy on merchants, any fool will get
along as well as the best of them now. Dear me, I recollect a
man they poked fun at once at Salem. They induced, him by
way of a rise, to ship a cargo of blankets and warming-pans to
the West Indies. "Well, he did so, and made a good speck, for
the pans were bought for dippers, and the blankets for strainers.
Yes, telegraphs will reduce merchants to the level of that fellow
Isaac Oxter.

But I must look for the trail again, or I shaU forget my
story.

I think I left off where I got back in the canoe, and joined
the party in the boat. Well, we then proceeded like the off
and near ox, pulling from rather than to each other, but still
keeping neck and neck as it were. In this manner we proceeded
to the head of the lake, and then as we returned steered for a
small wooded island in the centre, where I proposed to land and
rest awhile, for this beautiful sheet of water was of considerable
extent. As we approached it, Peter again struck up his pipes,
and shortly afterwards a noble male moose, as much terrified by
the noise as McDonald said Canada wolves were, broke cover,
and swam for the main land. The moose frequently select such
places to secure their young from the bears, who are their great-
est enemies, and find an easy prey in their helpless calves. It
?'3 not improbable that the female still remained, and that this
act of gallantry in tho buck Avas intended to withdraw attention
from her, and thus save her from pursuit. I had no bullets
with me, and my gun was only loaded with duck-shot. To dis-
charge that at him, would have been a wanton act of cruelty, as
at most it could only inflict upon him painful wounds. In this
emergency, Jessie pointed to a stout half-inch rope that was
coiled up in the bottom of the canoe, and I immediately ex-

140

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

c'lipjifjed places witli her, and commenced making a lasso, wliilo
she plied the paddle.

We gained rapidly upon him, and I v/as preparing to throw
the fatal noose over his horns, when to my astonishment he
raised his neck and a portion of his fore-legs out of the water,
as if he was landing. We were ^hen a considerable distance
from the shore, but it appeared, as I aften\ards learned from
the doctor, that a long low neck of land made out there into the
lake, that was only submerged in the spring and autumn, but ia
summer was covered with wild grass, upon which deer fed with
avidity, as an agreeable change from browsing. The instinct of
the animal induced him to make for this shallow, from which
he could bound away at full speed (trot) into the cover.

All hope of the chase was now over, and I was about aban-
doning it in despair, when an arrow whizzed by us, and in an
instant he sprang to his feet, and exposed his huge form to view.
He was a remarkable fine spenmen of his kind, for they are the
largest as well as the ugliest of the deer tribe. For an instant
ho paused, shook himself violently, and holding down his head,
put up his fore-leg to break off that, which evidently maddened
nim. with pain. He then stood up erect, with his head high in
the air, and laid his horns back on his neck, and, giving a snort
of terror, prepared to save his life by flight.

It is astonishing how much animation and attitude lias to
do with beauty. I had never seen one look well betbi-e, but as
his form was relieved against the sky, he looked as he is, the
giant king of the forest. He was just in the act of shifting his
feet in the yielding surface of the boggy meadow, preparatory
to a start, when he was again transfixed by an arrow, in a more
vulnerable and vital part. He sprung, or rather reared forward,
and came down on his knees, and then several times repeated
the attempt to commence his flight by the same desperate ettbrt.
At last he fell to rise no more, and soon rolled over, and after
some splashing with his head to avoid the impending death by
drowning, quietly submitted to his fate. Nothing now was
visible of him but the tips of his horns, and a small strip of the
hide that covered his ribs. A shout from the boat proclaimed
the victory.

" Ah, Mr Slick," said the doctor, " what could you have
done with only a charge of duck-shot in your gun, eh i' The
arrow, you see, served for shot and bullet. I could have killed
him with the first shaft, but his head was turned, and covered
the vital spot. So I had to aim a little too far forward, but still
it carried a death-warrant with it, for he couldn't have run over
a mile without falling from exhaustion, arising from the loss of

A DAY ON THE LAKK.

blood. It is a charmiug day for the bow, for tliore is no wind,
and I could hit a dollar at a bundrod and twenty yards. Thoit*
is another on that island, but she j)robably has a calf, perhaps
two, and it would be a wicked waste of the food that God provides
for us, to destroy her. But we must jT;et this fjentleman into the
boat, and it will bring us down so deep in the water, we must
keep near the shore, as it may be necessary occasionally to wade."

Peter, without ceremony, began to make preparations for
such an emergency. He had been accustomed all his life, until
he left the Nor-west Company's employment, to the kilt, and
he neither felt nor looked at home in the trousers. Like most
of his countrymen, he thought there was more beauty in a hairy
leg, and in a manly shammy-leather looking skin, than in any
covering. While his bald knee, the ugliest, weakest, most com-
plicated and important joint in the frame, he no doubt regarded
with as much veneration as the pious do the shaven crown of a
monk. He therefore very complacently and coolly began to dis-
encumber himself of this detestable article of the tailor's skill.
I thought it best therefore to push off in time, to spare his
daughters this spectacle, merely telling the doctor we would
wait for him where we had embarked.

"We proceeded very leisurely, only once in a while dipping
the paddle gently into the water, so as to keep up the motion of
the canoe. The girls amused themselves by imitating the caU
and answer of the loon, the blue-jay, the kingfisher, and the owl.
"With a piece of bark, rolled up in the form of a short-ear trum-
pet, they mimicked the hideous voice of the moose, and the not
less disagreeable lowing of the cariboo. The martin started in
surprise at his affrighted neighbour on the water, and the fox
no doubt crept from his hole to listen to the voice that called
him to plunder, at this dangerous hour. All these sounds are
signals among the Indians, and are carried to a perfection that
deceives the ear of nature itself. I had read of their great power
in this species of ventriloquism, but never had heard it practised
before, with the exception of the imitation of the deer tribe,
which is weU-known to white " still-hunters."

They are, in their own country, not very communicative to
strangers ; and above all, never disclose practices so peculiarly
reserved for their own service or defence. I was amazed at their
skill in this branch of Indian accomplishment.

But the notes of the dear little chick-a-dee-dee charmed me
the most. The stillness of this wild, sequestered place was most
agreeably diversified by all these fictitious birds and beasts, that
seemed inviting, each his own kind, to come and look at this
lovely scene. From the wonderful control they appeared to havo

142

A DAY ON THE LAKE,

over their voices, I knew that one or both of them must sing.
I therefore asked them if they knew the Caiiadian-boat song ;
and they answered, with great delight, thn ' they did. And suit-
ing the action to the word, which, by the by, aads marvellously
to its effect, they sung it charmingly. I couldn't resist their
entreaties to join in it, although I would infinitely have prefer-
red listening to taking a part. "When we concluded it, Jessie
said it was much prettier in her native tongue, and sung a verse
in her own language. She said the governor of the fort, who
spoke Indian as well as English, had arranged the words for it,
and when she was a child in his family, she learned it. " Listen,"
said she, *' what is that ? "

It was Jackson playing on the key-bugle. Oh, how gloriously
it sounded, as its notes fell on the ear, mellowed and softened
by the distance. When Englishmen talk of the hunters' horn
in the morning, they don't know what they are a saying of. It's
well enough I do suppose in the field, as it wakes the drowsy
sportsman, and reminds him that there is a hard day's ride be-
fore him. But the lake and the forest is nature's amphitheatre,
and it is at home there. It won't speak as it can do at all times
and in all places ; but it gives its whole soul out in the woods ;
and the echoes love it, and the mountains wave their plumes of
pines to it, as if they wanted to be wooed by its clear, i?weet,
powerful notes.* All nature listens to it, and keeps silence,
while it lifts its voice on high. The breeze wafts its music on
its wings, as if proud of its trust ; and the lake lies still, and
pants like a thing of life, as if its heart beat to its tones. The
birds are all hushed, as if afraid to disturb it; and the deer
pause, and listen, and gaze on the skies, as if the music came
from heaven. Money only can move some men^ and a white
heat alone dissolve stones. But he who has ever heard the bugle,
and is not inspired by it, has no divinity within him. The body
is there, but the soul is wanting.

" Go on, Jackson, I vdll forgive your twaddle about sargeant
M'Clure, the stroke of the sun, the trooper's helmet, and the
night among the wolves. I will listen to your old soldier's sto-
ries all night, only go on and play for me. Give me that simple
air again. Let me drink it in with my ears, tiU my heart is fuU.

* This inflated passage, and some other similar ones, are extremely cha-
racteristic of Americans in the same station of life as Slick. From the use of
superlative expressions in their conversation, they naturally adopt an exagger-
ative style in writing, and the minor poets and provincial orators of the Ke-
Eublic are distinguished for this hyperbolical tone. In Great Britain they would
e admired by the Irish ; on the Continent, by the Gascons. If Mr Slick were
not aflfectpd by this weakness himself, he womd be among the first to detect
and ridicule it in others.

-'/»/

A DAY OX THE LAKE.

143

No p^race notes, no tricks of the band-master's, no flourishes ;
let it be simple and natural. Let it suit us, and the place wo
are in, for it is the voice of our common parent, nature." Ah,
he didn't hear me, and he ceased.

"Jessie, dear, ain't that beautif d?" said I.

" Oh," she said (and she clasped her hands hard), " it is like
the sound of a spirit speaking from above."

*' Imitate it," said I.

She knew the air, it was a Scotch one ; and their music is
the most touching, because the most simple, I know.

Squire, you will think I am getting spooney, but I ain't.
You know how fond I am of nature, and always was ; but I
suppose you will think if I ain't talking Turkey, that I am get-
ting crankey, when I tell you an idf^"" that came into my mind
just then. She imitated it in the most perfect manner possible.
Her clear, sweet, mellow, but powerful notes, never charmed me
so before. I thought it sounded like a maiden, answering her
lover. One was a masculine, the other a female voice. The only
difference was in the force, but softness was common to both.
Can I ever forget the enchantment of that day ?

" Dear Jessie," said I, " you and your friend are just formed
for each other. How happy you couM make him."

" Who ? " said she, and there was no affectation in the ques-
tion. She knew not the import of that word. " What do you
mean ? "

" Hush," said I, "I will tell you by and by. Old Tom is
playing again."

It was " Auld lang syne." How touching it was ! It brought
tears to Jessie's eyes. She had l^amed it, when a child, far,
far away ; and it recalled her tribe, her childhood, her country,
and her mother. I could see these thoughts throw their sha-
dows over hor face, as light clouds chase each other before the
sun, and throw their veil, as they course along the sky, over the
glowing landscape. It made me feel sad, too ; for how many of
them with whom my early years were spent have passed away.
Of aU the fruit borne by the tree of life, how small a portion
drops from it when fuUy ripe, and in the due course of nature.
The worm, and premature decay, are continually thinning them ;
and the tempest and the blight destroy the greater part of those
that are left. Poor dear worthy old Minister, you too are gone,
but not forgotten. How could I have had these thoughts?
How could I have enjoyed these scenes ? and how described
them ? but for you ! Innocent, pure, and simple-minded man,
how fond you were of nature, the handy-work of God, as you
used to call it. How full you were of poetry, beauty, and sub-

^i^$k^^i£^^.

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

li;nify! And what do I nof .ve to you? I nm not ashamed
of havinj? been a Clockinaker, I am proud of it.* l^ut I Hhould
indeed have been ashamed, with your instruction, always to
have remained one. Yes, yes !

" Why should auld anquaintnnce bo forgot,
And never brought to mind.*"

AVhy ? indeed.

" Tam it," said Peter, for we were so absorbed in listening
to the music, we did not hear the approach of the boat, " ta ting
ia very coot, but it don't stir up te blood, and make you feel like
a maj, as ta pipes do ! Did she ever hear barris an tailler ? Fan
she has done with her brass cow-horn, she will give it to you.
It can wake the tead, that air. When she was a piper poy to
the fort. Captain Fraisher was killed by the fall of a tree,
knocked as stitV as a gunparrel, and as silent too. We laid her
out on the counter in one of the stores, and pefore we put her
into the coffin the governor said : * Peter,' said he, ' she was al-
ways fond of hams an tailler, play it before w^e nau her up, come,
seid suas (strike up).'

" Well, she gets the pipes and plays it hern ainsel, and the
governor forgot his tears, and seized McPhee by the hanr* and
they danced ; they couldn't help it when that air was ph yed,
and what do you think ? It prought Captain Fraisher to life.
First she opened her eyes, and ten her mouth again wimst more.
She did, upon my shoul,

" Says she, ' Peter, play it faster, will you ? More faster yet,
you blackguard.' And she tropt the pipes and ran away, and it
was the first and last time Peter McDonald ever turned his pack
on a friend. The doctor said it was a trance, but he was a sas-
sanach and knew nothing about music ; but it was the pipes
prought the tead to. This is the air," and he played it with
such vigour he nearly grew black in the face.

"I believe it," sais I; "it has brought me to also, it has
made me a new man, and brought me back to life again. Let
us land the moose."

" Ted," said Peter, " she is worth two ted men yet. There
is only two teaths. Ted as te tevil, and ted drunk, and she
ain't neither ; and if she were poth she would wake her up with
tat tune, barris an tailler, as she tid Captain Fraisher, tat she
wm."

" Now," said I, " let us land the moose."

♦ This is the passage to which Mr Slick referred in the conversation I had
with him, related in Chapter I., entitled, "A Surprise."

I !

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

CHAPTER XI.

A DAT ON THE LAKE. — PABT II.

1 she

Peteh's horrid pipes knocked all the romance out of me.
It took all the talk ot dear old Minister (whose conversation
was often like poetiy without rhyme), till I was of age, to in-
stil it into me. If it hadn't been for him I should have been a
mere practical man, exactly like our Connecticut folks, who have
as much sentiment in them in a general way as an onion has of
otter of roses. It's lucky when it don't predominate though,
for when it does, it spoils the relish for the real business of life.

Mother, when I was a boy, used to coax me up so everlast-
ingly with loaf-cake, I declare I got such a sweet tooth, I could
hardly eat plain bread made of flour and com meal, alihough it
was the wholesomest of the two. When I used to tell Minister
this sometimes, as he was flying off" the handle, like when we
travelled through New York State to Niagara, at the scenery oi
the Hudson, or Lake George, or that everlastin' water-fall,
he'd say —

" Sam, you are as correct as a problem in Euclid, but as cold
and dry. Business and romance are like oil and water that I
use for a night-lamp, with a little cork dipsey. They oughtn't
to be mixed, but each to be separate, or they spoil each other.
The tumbler should be nearly full of water, then pour a little
oil on the top, and put in your tiny wick and floater, and ignite
it. The water goes to the bottom — that's business you see,
solid and heavy. The oil and its burner lies on the top — and
that's romance. It's a living flame, not enough to illuminate
the room, but to cheer you through the night, and if you want
more, it will light stronger ones for you. People have a wTong
idea of romance, Sam. Properly understood, it's a right keen,
lively appreciation of the works of nature, and its beauty, won-
ders, and sublimity. From thence we learn to fear, to serve,
and to adore Him that mnde them and us. Now, Sam, you un-
derstand all the wheels, and pullies, and balances of your wooden
clocks ; but you don't think anything more of them, than it's a
grand speculation for you, because they cost you a mere nothing,
seeing they are made out of that which is as cheap as dirt here,
and because you make a great profit out of them among the be-
nighted colonists, who know little themselves, and are governed
by English officials who know still less. Well, that's natural,

146

A DAY ON THE IJIKE.

for it is a buRincos view of things,* Now Bposen you lived in
the Far West \<foodH, avay from ffrcat citicH, nnil never saw a
watch or a wooden clock before, and funt »i>t vour eves c-n ono
of them that was as true as the sun, wouldn't you break out into
enthusiasm about it, and then extol to the skies the skill and
knowledge of the Yankee man that invented aid made it ? To
be siire you would. Wouldn't it carry you oft' into contem-
platin' ot the j)lanet whose daily course and speed it measures
80 exact ? Wouldn't you go on from that point, and ask your-
self what must be the wisdom and power of Him who made in-
nup.erable worlds, and caused them to form part of a great,
grand, magniilcent, and harmonious system, and ny off the handle,
as you call it, in admiration and awe? To be sure you would.
And if anybody said you was full of romance who neard you,
wouldn't you have pitied his ignorance, and said there are other
enjoyments we are capable of besides corporeal ones ? Wouldn't
you be a wiser and a better man ? Don't you go now for to
run down romance, Sam; if y i ; do, I shall think you don't
know there is a divinity within you," and so he would preach
on for an hour, till I thought it was time for him to say Amen
and give the dismissal benedici/ion.

Well, that's the way I came by it, I was inoculated for it.
but I was always a hard subject to inoculate. Vaccination was
tried on me over and over again by the doctor before I took it,
but at last it came and got into the system. So it was with him and
his romance, it was only the continual dropping that wore the
stone at last, for I didn't listen as I had ought to have done.
If he had a showed me where I could have made a dollar, he
would have found me wide awake, I know, for I set out in life
with a determination to go ahead, and I have ; and now I am
well to do, but still I wish I had a minded more what he did
say, for, poor old soul, he is dead now. An opportunity lost, i&
like missing a passage^ another chance may never offer to make
the voyage worth while. Thejirst wind may carry you to the end.
A good start often wins the race. To miss your chance of a shotj
is io lose the bird.

How true these " saws " of his are ; but I don't recollect
half of them, I am ashamed to say. Tes, it took me a long time
to get romance in my sails, and reter shook it out of them by
one shiver in the wind. So we went to work. The moose was
left on the shore, for the doctor said he had another destination
for him than the water-fall. Betty, Jackson, and PetiT, were
embarked with their baskets and utensils in the boats, and
directed to prepare our dinner.

* It is manifest Mr Hopewell must have had Palcy 's illustration in his mind.

A DAY ON THE lAKH,

117

I mind.

As soon as thev wpro fairly off, we strolled ItMsiin^ly back to
the house, whioh 1 had hardly time to examine before. It was
an irregular building made of hewn logs, and appeared to have
been enlarged, from time to time, as more acconuni dation had
been required. There was neither uniformity nor design in it,
and it might rather be called a small cluster of little tenements
than a house. Two of these structures alone seemed to corre-
spond in appearance and size. They protruded in front, from
each end ot the main building, forming with it three sides of a
Bquare. One of these was appropriated to the purposes of a
museum, and the other used as a workshop. The former con-
tained an exceedingly interesting collection.

" This room," he said, " I cannot intrust to Jackson, who
■would soon throw everything into confusion by grouping instead
of classifying things. This country is full of most valuable
minerals, and the people know as much about them as a pud-
ding does of the plums contained in it. Observe this shelf, Sir,
there are specimens of seven different kinds of copper on it ;
and on this one, fragments of four kinds of lead. In the argen-
tiferous galena is a very considerable proportion of silver. Here
is a piece of a mineral called molybdena of singular beauty, I
found it at Gaberous Bay, in Cape Breton. The iron ores you
see are of great variety. The coal-fields of this colony are im-
mense in extent, and incalculable in value. All this case is filled
with their several varieties. These precious stones are from the
Bay of Fundy. Among them are amethyst, and other varieties
of crystal, 0/ quartz, henlandite, stibite, analcine, chabasie, al-
bite, nesotype, silicious sinter, and so on. Pray do me the
favour to accept this amethyst. I have several others of equal
size and beauty, and it is of" no use to me."

He also presented Cutler with a splendid piece of nesotype
or needle stone, which he begged him to keep as a memento of
the " Bachelor Beaver's-dam."

" Three things, Mr Slick," he continued, " are necessary to
the development of the mineral wealth of this province— skill,
capital, and population ; and depend upon it the day is not far
distant, when this magnificent colony will support the largest
population, for its area, in America."

I am not a mineralogist myself. Squire, and much of what
he said was heathen Greek to me, but some general things I
could understand, and remember such as that there are (to say
nothing of smaller ones) four immense independent coal-fields
in the eastern section of Nova Scotia ; namely, at Picton, Pom-
quet, Cumberland, and Londonderry ; tbe first of which covers
an area of one hundred square miles : and that there are also at

]iS

A DAY ON THE LAKK.

Cn|)«' Hri'ton two otlicrenonnouH fu'UlHof the nnnw luiiicral. one
covrriii^ one tiuiidnMl and twenty B(|uare niilcM, and |)n>Hi'ntin^
at I^in^an a vein eleven feet tliiek. Such I'aetH 1 eould coinpre-
liend, and I waw Horry when 1 heard thu bugle anuouneing that
the boat had returned for us.

" Jessie," said the doctor, "here is a little case containing a
curiously fashioned and exquisitely worked ring, and u large
gold cross and chain, that 1 found while searching among the
ruins of the nunnerv at Louisburg. 1 have no doubt they be-
longed to the BUju'rior of the convent. These baubles answered
her purpose by withdi awing the eyes of the profane from her
care-worn and cold features; they will serve nune also, by show-
ing how little you reciuire the aid of art to adorn a person na-
ture has made so lovely."

" Hallo ! " sais I to myself, " well done. Doctor, if I'lat don't
beat cock-fighting, then there ain't no snakes in Varginny, I
vow. Oh ! you ain't so soft as you look to be after all ; you
may be a cluld of nature, but that has its own secrets, and if
you hain't found out its mysteries, it's a pity."

"They have neither sutfered," he continued, " from the cor-
rosion of time nor the asceticism of a devotee, who vainly
thought she was serving God by voluntarily withdrawing from
a world into which he himself had sent her, and by foregoing
duties which he had expressly ordained she should fulfil. Don't
start at the sight of the cross ; it is the emblem of Christianity,
and not of a sect, who claim it exclusively, as if He who suflfered
on it died for them only. This one has hitherto been used in
the negation of all human affections, may it shed a blessing on
the exercise of yours."

I could hardly believe my ears ; I didn't expect this of him.
I knew he was romantic, and all that; but I did not think there
was such a depth and strength of feeling in him.

" I wish," I said, " Jehu Judd could a heard you. Doctor, he
would have seen the difference between the clear grit of the
genuine thing and a counterfeit, that might have made him
open his eyes and wink."

" Oh ! Slick," said he, " come row, that's a good fellow, don't
make me laugh, or I shall upset these glass cases ; " and before
Jessie could either accept or decline this act of gallantry, he
managed to lead the way to the la.ce. The girls and I embarked
in the canoe, and the rest of the party in the boat, but before I
stepped into the bark, I hid the pipes of Peter behind the body
of the moose, very much to the amusement of Jessie and the
doctor, who both seemed to agree \v4th me in giving a prefer-
ence to the bugle.

A DAY ON THE LAKK.

don't
)efore
y, he
arked
fore I
body
d the
refer-

I never saw so lovely n spot in this eountr}' ns the one we
Imd ehoHcn lor our repant, hut it wns not my intention to iiuul
until the pn^parutiouM for our meal were all fully completed ; ho
08 Hoonns Jane leaped aHhon\ I took her place and asked JcMMie
to take another look at the lake with me. Desiring Jackson to
recall us with his bugle when recjuired, wo coasted up the west
Hide of the lake for about half a mile, to a place where I had
observed two enormous birches bend over the water, into which
they were ultimately doomed to fall, aa the current had washed
away the land where they stood, so as to leave them only a t«Mn-
porary restinj^-place. Into this arched and quiet retreat we
nnj)clled our canoe, and paused for awhile to enjoy its cool and
relreshing shade.

" Jessie," said I, " this time to-morrow I shall be on the sea

again.

" So soon ? " she replied.

" Yes, dear ; business calls us away, and life is not all like a
day on the lake."

" No, no," she said, " not to me ; it is the only really happy
one I have spent since I left my country. You have all been
so kind to me ; you, the captain, and the doctor, all of you, you
have made no difterence, you have treated me as if I was one of
you, as if I was bom a lady."

" Hasn't the doctor always been kind to you ? " I said.

" Oh, yes," she replied, " always very kind, but there is no-
body here like him."

" He loves you very much."

"Yes," she said, m the most unembarrassed and natural
manner possible, " he told me so himself."

" And can't you return his love ? "

" I do love him as I do my father, brother, or sister."

" Couldn't you add the word husband ? "

" Never, never," she said, " Mr Slick. He thinks he loves
me now, but he may not think so always. He don't see the red
blood now, he don't think of my Indian mother ; when he comes
nearer perhaps he will see plainer. No, no, half-cast and out-
cast, I belong to no race. Shall I go back to my tribe and give
up my father and his people ? they will not receive me, and I
must fall asleep with my mother. Shall I stay here and cling
to him and his race, that race that scorns the half-savage?
never ! never ! when he dies I shall die too. I shall have no
home then but the home of the spirits of the dead."

"Don't talk that way, Jessie," I said, "you make yourself
wretched, because you don't see things as they are. It's your own
fault if you are not happy. You say \ ou have enjoyed this day."

150

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

" Oh, yes," she said, " no day like this ; it never came before,
it don't return again. It dies to-night, but will never be for-
gotten."

" Why not live where you are ? Why not have your home
here by this lake, and this mountain ? His tastes are like yours,
and yours like his ; you can live two lives here, — the forest of
the red man around you — the roof of the white one above you.
To unite both is true enjoyment ; there is no eye to stare here,
no pride to exclude, no tongue to offend. You need not seek
the society of others, let them solicit yours, and the doctor will
make them respect it."

It was a subject on which her mind appeared to have been
made up. She seemed like a woman that has lost a child, who
hears your ad^'^ce, and feels there is some truth in it, but the
consolation reaches not her heart.

"It can't be," she said, with a melancholy smile, as if she
was resigning something that was dear to her, " God or nature
forbids it. If there is one God for both Indian and white man,
he forbids it. If there are two great spirits, one for each, as
my mother told me, then both forbid it. The great spirit of
the pale faces," she continued, " is a wicked one, and the white
man is wicked. Wherever he goes, he brings death and destruc-
tion. The woods recede before him — the wild fowl leave the
shores — the fish desert their streams — the red man disappears.
He calls his deer and his beaver, and his game (for they are all
his, and were given to him for food and for clothing), and travels
far, far away, and leaves the graves and the bones of his people
behind him. But the white man pursues him, day and night,
with his gun, and his axe, and fire-water ; i ad what he spares
with the rifle, rum, despair, and starvation destroy. See," she
said, and she plucked a withered red cone from a ^humack that
wept over the water, "see that is dyed with the blood of the red
man."

" That is prejudice," T said.

" No, it is the truth," Ae replied. " I know it. My peo-
ple have removed twice, if not three times, and the next move
will be to the sea or the grave."

" It is the effect of civilization, and arts, and the power of
sciences and learning, over untutored nature," I said.

" If learning makes men wicked, it is a bad thing," she 0^5-
served ; " for the devil instructs men how to destroy. But rum
ain't learning, it is poison ; nor is sin civilization, nor are dis-
eases blessings, nor madness reason."

"That don't alter things," I said, "if it is aU true that you
say, and there is too much reality in it, I fear ; but the pale

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

151

; you
pale

faces are not all bad, nor the red all good. It don't apply to
vour ease."

"No," she said, "nature forbids the two races to mingle,
rhat that is wild, continues wild ; and the tame remains tame.
The dog watches his sleeping master ; and the wolf devours him.
The wild-duck scorns confinement ; and the partridge dies if
compelled to dwell with domestic fowls. Look at those birds,"
she said, as she threw a chip among a flock of geese that were
floating down the lake, " if the beautiful Indian wild bird con-
sorts with one of them, the progeny die out. They are mon-
grels, they have not the grace, the shape, or the courage of either.
Their doom is fixed. They soon disappear from the face of the
earth and the waters. They are despised by both breeds ;" and
she shook her head, as if she scorned and loathed herself, and
burst into a passionate flood of tears.

" Jessie," said I, and I paused a moment, for I wanted to
give her a homoeopathic dose of common sense — and those little
wee doses work like charms, that's a fact. " Jessie," says I, and
I smiled, for I wanted her to shake off those voluntary tram-
mels. " Jessie, the doctor ain't quite quite tame, and you ain't
quite wild. You are both six of one, and half-a-dozen of the
other, and just about as like as two peas."

Well it's astonishing what that little sentence did. An
ounce of essence is worth a gallon of fluid. A vjise saw is more
valuable than a whole hook, and a plain truth is better than an
argument. She had no answer for that. She had been reason-
ing, without knowing it, as if in fact she had been in reality an
Indian. She had imbibed in childhood the feelings of her mother,
who had taken the first step and repented it — of one who had
deserted, but had not been adopted — who became an exile and
remained an alien — who had bartered her birthright for degrad-
ation and death. It is natural that regret for the past and
despair for the future should have been the burden of the mourn-
ful dittipf of such a woman ; that she who had mated without
love, and lived without affection, the slave, the drudge, but not
the wife or companion of her master, should die with impreca-
tions on her lips for a race who were the natural foes of her
people, and who had reduced her to be an object of scorn and
contempt to both. It is no wonder therefore poor Jessie had
a repugnance to the union, when she remembered her mother,
and the sad lesson her unhappy life and fearful death contained.
It was a feeling difficult to overcome.

" Jessie," sais I, " nature, instead of forbiddin' it, approves
of it ; for like takes to like. I don't say it to please you, but
you are as good as he is, or any white man in the world. Your

152

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

ill

i;
I i

forefatlicrs on your mother's side are a brave, manly, intelligent
race ; tliey are free men, and have never been subdued or en-
slaved by any one : and if they have degenerated at all, it is
becaiiae they have contraeted, as you say, vices from the white
man. You have reason to be proud of being descended from a
race of warriors. On the other hand, your father is a Highlander,
and they too have always been free, because they were brave ;
they are the noblest fellows in Europe. As for the English,
there are none now, except in "Wales, and they are called Taf-
fies — which means lunatics, for they are awful proud, and their
mountains are so high, every fellow says his ancestors were de-
scended from the man in the moon. But the present race are a
mixture of Taffies, French, Danes, Saxons, Scotch, and the Lord
knows w ho all, and to my mind are all the better of it."
" But the colour," said she.

" As to colour !" said I, " nations differ in every shade, from
black up to chalk white. The Portuguese, Italians, and Turks
are darker than the Indian if anything ; Spaniards and Greeks
about the same."

" And do they intermarry ? "

" I guess they do," said I ; " the difference of language only
stops them, — for it's hard to make love when you can't under-
stand each other, — but colour never."

" Is that now really true ? " she said ; " for I am ignorant
of the world."

" True as preachin','' said I, " and as plain as poverty."
She paused awhile, and said slowly :

" "Well, I suppose if all the world says and does differently,
I must be wrong, for I am unacquainted with everything but
my own feelings ; and my mother taught me this, and bade me
never to trust a white man. I am glad I was wrong, for if I
feel I am right, I am sure I shall be happy."

" Well," sais I, " I am sure you will be so, and this is just
the place, above all others in the world, that will suit you, and
make you so. Now," sais I, " Jessie, I will tell you a story ;" and
I told her the whole tale of Pocahontas ; how s!ie saved Captain
Smith's life in the early settlement of Virginia, and afterwards
married Mr Eolfe, and visited the court of England, where all the
nobles sought her society. And then I gave her all the particulars
of her life, illness, and death, and informed her that her son,
who stood in the same relationship to the whites as she did,
became a wealthy planter in Virginia, and that one of his de-
scendants, lately det-eased, was one of the most eloquent as well
as one of the most distinguished men in the United States. It
interested her uncommonly, and I have no doubt greatly contri-

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

153

m '.'

bated to confirm her in the decision she had come to. I will
not trouble you, Squire, with the story, for it is so romantic, I
believe every Dody has heard of it. I promised to give her a book
containing all the details.

The bugle now sounded our recall, and in a few minutes wo
were seated on the grass, and enjoying our meal witli an appe-
tite that exercise, excitement, and forest air never fail to give.
Songs, trout-fishing, and stories agreeably occupied the after-
noon ; and when tlie sun began to cast long shadows from the
mountain, we reembarked with our traps, and landed at the cove
near the clump of trees where we started in the morning.
While preparations were making for tea in the house, I lit my
cigar to take a stroll with Cutler, and talk over our arrange-
ments for an early start in the morrow, and proceeding imme-
diately to sea. In the mean time, I briefly stated to the doctor
that he would now find no further obstacle to his wishes, and
counselled him to lose no time, while the impression was favour-
able, to bring his long-pending negotiation to a conclusion.

" Slick," said he, laughing, "your government ought to have
prevailed upon you to remain in the diplomatic service. You
are sucli a capital negotiator."

" Well," said I, " I believe I would have succeeded in that
line ; but do you know how ? "

" By a plentiful use of soft sawder," said he.

" No, Doctor, I knew you would say that ; and it ain't to be
despised neither, I can tell you. No, it's because you go cooUy
to work, for you are negotiatin' for another. If you don't suc-
ceed, it's the fault of the mission, of course, and defeat won't
break your heart ; if you do carry your point, why, in the natur
of things, it is all your own skill. I have done famously for you ;
but I made a bungling piece of business for myself, I assure
you. What my brother, the lawyer, used to say is very true :
' A man who pleads his own cause has a fool for his client.'
You can't praise yourself unless it's a bit of brag, and that I
can do as well as any one, I do suppose ; but you can't lay the
whitewash on handily no more than you can brush the back of
your own coat when it is on. Cutler and I will take a stroll,
and do you invite Jessie out, to see the moon on the lake."

In about an hour, Peter, who had found his pipes to his in-
finite delight, intimated supper was ready ; and tlie dispersed
groups returned, and sat dcivn to a meal w'hich, in addition to the
tea and coffee and its usual accompaniments at count, y-houses,
had some substantial viands for those, like myself, who had done
more talking than eating at dinner. In a short time, the girls re-
tired for the night, and we arranged for a peep of day return.

154

A DAY ON THE LAKE.

" Mr Slick," said the doctor, " I have ordered the boy to
take the moose down to the village as my share of the sea-stores.
Will you give me leave to go a part of the cruise with you ? "

" With great pleasure," said I ; " it's just what I was going
to ask the favour of you to do. It's the very identical thing."

" Come, Peter," said he, " I will show you where to turn in ;'*
and returning, in a few minutes, with Jackson, desired him to
attend the captain.

When we were alone, he said :

" Come this way, Mr Slick. Put your hat on — I want you
to take a turn with me."

And leading me down to the verge of the woods, where I
saw a light, we entered a large bark wigwam, where he said he
often slept during the hot weather.

It was not made in the usual conical form, but resembled a
square tent, which among Indians generally indicates there is a
large family, and that they propose to occupy the same spot for
some time. In fact, it was half wigwam, half summer-house, resem-
bling the former in appearance, construction, and material ; but
was floored on account of the damp ground, and contained a
small table, two chairs, and a couple of rustic seats large enough
to sleep upon, which, on the present occasion, had hunters' beds
on them. The tent, or more properly camp, as it is generally
called here, was so contrived as to admit of the door being shifted
according to the wind. On the present occasion, the opening
was towards the lake, on which the moon jvas casting its silver
light.

Here we sat till a late hour, discoursing, over our cigars, on
a variety of subjects, the first and last of which topic was Jessie,
•whc had, it appeared, at last accepted the Bacnelor Beaver.
Altogether, it was a charming visit ; and left a most agreeable
recollection of the enjo3rment that is to be found in " a day and
a night in the woods. ^*

CHAPTEE XII.

THE BETEOTHAL.

Early the following morning, just as the first dawn of day
was streaking the eastern sky, Jackson's bugle sounded the re-
veiUe, and we were all soon on foot and in motion. The moose

THE IJ^TROTnAL.

155

' day

was lifted into the cart, and the boy despatched with it to the
harbour, so as to have it in readiness for putting on boird as
soon as we should arrive, and a cup of coffee was prepared for
us by Betty, as she said, to keep the cold out of our stomach
while travelling. The doctor had some few arrangements to
make for his voyage, and Cutler and I set out in advance, on
foot. It was agreed that Ovey, Peter, and his daughters, should
follow, as soon as possible, in the waggons, and breakfast with
us on board of the Black Hf wk.

" Mr Jackson," said I, as I saw him standing at the door.

" Yes, Sir," and he was at my side in a minute, and honoured
me with one of his most gracious smiles, and respectful military
salutes.

There is great magic in that word " Mr," wh^n used to men
of low degree, and in " Squire" for those just a notch higher.
Servitude, at best, is but a hard lot. To surrender your will to
another, to come and go at his bidding, and to answer a bell as a
dog does a whistle, ain't just the lot one would choose, if a better
one offered. A master may forget this, a servant never does.
The great art, as well as one of the great Christian duties, there-
fore, is not to make him feel it. Bidding is one thing, and com-
manding is another. If you put him on good terms with himself,
he is on good terms with you, and affection is a stronger tie than
duty. The vanity of mankind is such, that you always have the
ingratitude of helps dinned into your ears, from one year's end to
another, and yet these folk never heard of the ingratitude of em-
ployers, and wouldn't believe there was such a thing in the world,
if you were to tell them. Ungrateful, eh ! "Why, didn't I pay him
his wages ? wasn't he well boarded ? and didn't I now and then
let him go to a frolic ? Yes, he wouldn't have worked without pay.
He couldn't have lived if he hadn't been fed, and he wouldn't
have stayed if you hadn't given him recreation now and then.
It's a poor heart that don't rejoice sometimes. So much thanks
he owes you.^ Do you pray that it may always rain at night or
on Sundays ? Do you think the Lord is the Lord of masters
only ? But he has been faithful as well as diligent, and careful
jis well as laborious, he has saved you more than his wages came
to — are there no thanks for this r Pooh ! you remind me of my
poor old mother. Father used to say she was the most unrea-
sonable woman in the world — for when she hired a gall she
expected perfection, for two dollars and a half a month.

Mr Jackson! didn't that make him feel good all over?
"Why shouldn't he be called Mr, as well as that selfish conceited
M'Clure, Captain ? Yes, there is a great charm in that are word,
" ]VIr." It was a wrinkle I picked up by accident, very ear^y in

15G

THE BETROTH^O..

i, '

I I

life. We liad to our farm to Sliokville, an Irish servant, called
Paddy ^Mona^luin — as hard- working' a critter as ever T see, but
none of the boys could j^et him to do a bleased thing for them.
He'd do his plowin' or reapin', or whatever it was, but the deuce
a bit would he leave it to oblige Sally or the boys, or any one
else, but father ; he had to mind him, in course, or put his three
great coats on, the way he came, one atop of the other, to cover
the holes of the inne^' ones, and walk. But, as for me, he'd do
anythin' I wanted. He'd drop his spade, and help me catch a
horse, or he'd do my chores for me, and let me ro and attend
my mink and musquash traps, or he'd throw down his hoe and
go and fetch the cows from pasture, that I might slick up for a
party — in short, he'd do anything in the world for me.

" Well, they all wondered how under the sun Paddy had taken
8uch a shindy to me, when nobody else could get him to budge
an inch for them. At last, one day, mother asked me how on
airth it was — for nothin' strange goes on long, but a woman
likes to get at the bottom of it.

" Well," sais I, " mother, if you won't whisper a syllable to
anybody about it, I'll tell you."

" Who, me," sais she, " Sammy ? " She always called me
Sammy when she wanted to come over me. " Me tell ? A per-
son who can keep her own secrets can keep yours, Sammy.
There are some things I never told your father."

" Such as what?" sais I.

" A-hem," said she. " A-hem — such as he oughtn't to know,
dear. Why, Sam, I am as secret as the grave ! How is it, dear ? "

" Well," sais I, " I wall tell you. This is the way : 1 drop
Pat and Paddy altogether, and I caU him IVIr Monaghan, and
never say a word about the priest."

" AVhy, Sammy," said she, " where in the world did you
pick up all your cuteness ? I do declare you are as sharp as a
needle. Well, I never. How you do take after me ! hoys are
mothers* sons. Ws only galls who take after their father.^*

It's cheap coin, is civility, and kindness is a nice bank to
fund it in. Squire : for it comes back with compound interest.
He used to call Josiah, Jo, and brother Eldad, Dad, and then
yoke 'em both together, as " spalpeens," or " rapscallions," and
he'd vex them by calling mother, when he spoke to them of h»^r,
the " ould woman," and Sally, " that young cratur, Sal." But he'd
show the difference when he mentioned me ; it was always " the
young master," and when I was with him, it was " your Honour."
Lord, I shall never forget wunst, when I w^as a practisin'
of ball-shooting at a target, Pat brought out one of my muskits,
and sais he : " Would your Honour just let me take a crack at

THE BLTROTIIAL.

1C7

to
est.
hen
and

le'd
I the

it. You onlv make a little round hole in it, ahout the size of a
t1 v'h eye ; but, by the piper that played before Moses, I'll knock
it all to smithereens."

" Yes," sais I, " Mr Monaghan ; fire and welcome."

AVell, up he comes to the toe-line, and puts himself into
attitude, scientific like. First he throws his left leg out, and then
braces back the right one well behind hirn, and then he shuts
his left eye to, and makes ar ^wful wry face, as if he was deter-
mined to keep every bit of light out of it, and then he brought
his gun up to the shoulder with a duce of a flourish, and took
a long, 8t(\ady aim. All at once he lowered the piece.

" I think I'll do it better knalin', your Honour," said he,
" the way I did when I fired at Lord Blarney's land-agent, from
behind the hedge, for lettin' a farm to a Belfast heretic. Oh !
didn't I riddle him, your Honour." He paused a moment, his
tongue had run away with him. " His coat, I main," said he.
" I cut the skirts off' as uait as a tailor could. It scared him
entirely, so, when he see the feathers flyin' that way, he took to
flight, and I never sot eyes on him no more. I shouldn't won-
der if he is runnin' yet."

So he put down one knee on the ground, and adjusting him-
self said, " I won't leave so much as a hair of that target, to tell
where it stood." He took a fresh aim, and fired, and away he
A\ ent, heels over head, the matter of three or four times, and
the gun flew away behind him, ever so far.

" Oh ! " sais he, " I am kilt entirely. I am a dead man,
Master Sam. By the holy poker, but my arm is broke."

" I am afraid my gun is broke," said I, and off I set in
search of it.

" Stop, yer Honour," said he, " for the love of Heaven, stop,
or she'll be the death of you."

"What?" sais I.

" There are five more shots in her yet. Sir. I put in six
cartridges, so as to make sure of that paper kite, and only one
of them is gone off* yet. Oh ! my shoulder is out, Master Sam.
Don't say a word of it. Sir, to the ould cratur, and — "

"To who?" said I.

" To her ladyship, the mistress," said he, " and I'll sarve you
by day and by night.'*

Poor Pat ! you were a good-hearted creature naturally, as
most of your countrymen are, if repealers, patriots, and dema-
gogues of all sorts and sizes, would only let you alone. Yea,
there is a great charm in that word " Mr."

So, sais I, "Mr Jackson!"

^' Yes, Sir," said he. " Let me look at your bugle.'*

158

THE BETBOTHAL.

i '
i

! i

il:

! I

" Here it is, your Honour."

" "What a curious lookiu' thing it is," sais I, " and what's
all them little button-like things on it with long shanks?"

" Keys, Sir," said he.

" Exactly," sais I, " they unlock the music, I suppose, don't
they, and let it out ? Let me see if I could blow it."

" Try the i)ipes, Mr Slick," said Peter. " Tat is nothin' but
a prass cow-horn as compared to the pagpipes."

" No, thank you," sais I, *' it's only a Highlander can make
music out of that."

" She never said a wiser w ::d t' : ;at," he replied, much
gratified.

" Now," sais I, " let me blow thi*^, d <{• - it take much wind r "

"No," said Jackson, "not muc ,, ^ry i- ^ir."

Well, I put it to my lips, and played a v ell-known air on
it. " It's not hard to play, after all, is it, Jackson ? "

"No, Sir," said he, looking delighted, "nothing is ard to a
man as knows how,, as you do."

"Tom," sais Betty, "don't that do'ee good? Oh, Sir,
I ain't card that since I left the hold country, it's what the
guards has used to be played in the mail-coaches has was. Oh,
tSir, when they comed to the tovNTi, it used to sound pretty ;
many's the time I have run to the window to listen to it. Oh,
the coaches was a pretty sight. Sir. But them times is all gone,"
and she wiped a tear from her eye with the comer of her apron,
a tear that the recollection of early days had called up from the
fountain of her heart.

Oh, what a volume does one stray thought of' the past con-
tain within itself. It is like a rocket thrown up in the night.
It suddenly expands into a brilliant light, and sheds a thousand
eparkling meteors, that scatter in all directions, as if inviting
attention each to its own train. Yes, that one thought is the
centre of many, and awakens them all to painful sensibility
Perhaps it is more like a vivid flash of lightning, is discloses
with intense brightness the whole landscape, and exhibits, in
their minutest form and outline, the very leaves and flowers
that lie hid in the darkness of night.

" Jessie," said I, "will you imitate it ? "

I stopt to gaze on her for a moment — she stood in the
doorway — a perfect model for a sculptor. But oh, what chisel
could do justice to that face — it was a study for a painter.
Her whole soul was filled with those clear beautiful not'^s,
that vibrated through the frame, and attuned every nerve, tilt
it was in harmony with it. She was so wrapt in admiration, she
didn't notice what I observed, for I try in a general way that

THE BETROTHAL.

159

nothing shall escape me ; but as they were behind us all, I just
cauf];ht a glimpse of the doctor (as I turned my head suddenly)
withdrawing his arm from her waist. She didn't know it, of
couise, she was so absorbed in the music. It ain't likely she
felt him, and if she had, it ain't probable she would have ob-
jected to it. It was natural he snould like to press the heart
she had given him ; wasn't it now his ? and wasn't it reason-
able he should like to know how it beat ? He was a doctor, and
doctors like to feel pulses, it comes sorter habitual to them,
they can't help it. They touch your wrist without knowing it,
and if it is a woman's, why their hand, like brother Josiah's
cases that went on all fours, crawls up on its fingers, till it gets
to where the best pulse of all is. Ah, Doctor, there is Highland
blood in that heart, and it will beat warmly towards you, I
know. I wonder what Peter would have said, if he had seen
what I did. But then he didn't know nothin' about pulses.

" Jessie," said I, " imitate that for me, dear. It is the last
exercise of that extraordinary power I shall ever hear."
" Play it again," she said, " that I may catch the air."
" Is it possible," said I to myself, " you didn't hear it after
all ? It is the first time your little heart was ever pressed be
fore, perhaps it beat so loud you couldn't distinguish the bugle
notes. "Was it the new emotion or the new music that ab-
sorbed you so ? Oh, Jessie, don't ask me again what natur is.'
Well, I played it again for her, and instantly she gave the
repetition with a clearness, sweetness, and accuracy, that was
perfectly amazing. Cutler and I then took leave for the present,
and proceeded on our way to the shore.

"Ah, Sir!" said Jackson, who accompanied us to the bars,
" it's a long while ago since I eard that hair. Wam't them mail-
coaches pretty things, Sir ? Hon the hold King's birth-day. Sir,
when they aU turned out with new amess and coaches fresh
painted, and coachman and guard in new toggery, and four as
beautiful bits of blood to each on 'em as was to be found in
England, wam't it a sight to behold, Sir ? The world could show
nothin' like it, Sir. And to think they are past and gone, it
makes one's eart hache. They tells me the coachman now. Sir,
has a dirty black face, and rides on a fender before a large
grate, and flourishes a red ot poker instead of a whip. The
guard, Sir, they tells me, is no — "

" Good bye, Mr Jackson ;" and I shook hands with him.
"Isn't that too bad, Sir, now?" he said. "Why, here is
Betty again. Sir, with that d — d hat, and a lecture about the
stroke. Good bye, your Honour," said he.

When we came to the bridge where the road curved into

tea

THE nETROTIIAL.

the woods, T tiimcd mvl took u last look at the place where I
had 8j)ent such an a^eenble day.

I don't envy vou it, Uuctor. but I wiHh I had such a lovely

flace at Slickville as that. What do you think, Sophy, eh ?
have an id(?a you and 1 eould be very happy there, don't you?

"Oh! Mr Slick," said Jehu Judd, who was the first person
I Haw at the door of Peter's hotise, " what an everlastin' long
day was yesterday ! I did nothing but renew the poultice, look
in the glass, and turn into bed again. It's oft' now, ain't it?"

*' Ye«»," sais I, " and we are oft*, too, in no time."

" But the trade," said he ; *' let's talk that over."

" Haven't time," sais I ; "it must be short meter, as you
say when vou are to home to Quaco, practising Sail Mody (as
you call it). Mackarel is five dollars a barrel, sains thirty — say
yes or no, that's the word."

" How can you have the conscience ?" said he.

" I never talk of conscience in trade," sais I ; " only of prices.
Bargain or no bargain, that's the ticket."

"1 can't," he said.

" Well, then, there is an end of it," says I. " Good bye,
friend Judd."

Sais he: "You have a mighty short way with you, my
friend"

"A short way is better than a long face," said I.

" Well," said he, " I can't do without the sains (nets) no
how I can fix it, so I suppose I must give the price. But I
hope I may be skinned alive if you ain't too keen."

" Whoever takes a fancy to skin you, whether dead or alive,
will have a tough job of it, I reckon," sais I, " it's as tight as
the bark of a tree."

" For two pins," said he, " I'd tan your hide for you now."

"Ah," said I, "you are usin' your sain before you pay for
it. That's not fair."

"Why?" said he.

" Because," sais I, "you are insaine to talk that way."

" Well, well," said he, " you do beat the devil."

" Tou can't say that," sais I, " for I hain't laid a hand on
you. Come," sals I, " wake snakes, and push off with the Cap-
tain, and get the fish on board. Cutler, tell the mate, mackarel
is five dollars the barrel, and nets thirty each. We shall join
you presently, and so, friend Judd, you had better put the licks
in and make haste, or there will be ' more fiddling and dancing
and serving the devil this morning.' "

He turned round, and gave me a look of intense hatred, and
shook his fist at me. I took oflf my hat and made him a low

THE BETROTHAL.

101

•el
in

bow, iiud 8ni«l " Tliat's ri^ht, .save your breath to cool your broth,
or to ^Toaii with wlu'U you get home, and Imvc a ret'reshiug tiuie
with the Coine-outeiij.

' My father was n preacher,

A nii^lity holy man ;
My mothtT wan a Methodist,
iJut I'm u Tunyuu.*"

lie became as pale as a mad nigs;er at this. He was quite
BpeechU'88 with raj^e, and turning from me, said nothing, and
proceeded with the captain to the boat. It was some tinuj be-
fore the party returned from the lake, but the two waggons were
far apart, and Jessie and tlie doctor came last — was it that the
road was bad, and he was a poor driver ? perhaps so. A man
who loves the woods don't know or care much about roads. It
don't follow because a feller is a good shot, he is a good whip ;
or was it they had so much to say, the short distance didn't af-
ford time ? Well, I ain't experienced in these matters, though
perhaps you are, Squire. Still, though Cupid is represented with
bows and arrows (and how many 1 have painted on my clocks,
for they always sold the best), I don't think he was ever sketched
in an old one-hoss waggon. A canoe would have suited you
both better, you would have been more at home there. If I was
a gall I would always be courted in one, for you can't romp
there, or you would be capsized. It's the safest place I know
of. It's very well to be over head and ears in love, but my eyes,
to be over head and ears in the water, is no place for lovemak-
ing, unless it is for young whales, and even they spout and blow
like all wrath when they come up, as if you might have too
much of a good thing, don't they ?

They both looked happy — Jessie was unsophisticated, and
her countenance, when it turned on me, seemed to say, " Mr
Slick, I have taken your advice, and I am delighted I did." And
the doctor looked happy, but his face seemed to say, " Come now,
Slick, no nonsense, please, let me alone, that's a good fellow."

Peter perceived something he didn't understand. He had
seen a great deal he didn't comprehend since he left the High-
lands, and heard a great many things he didn't know the mean-
ing of It was enough for him if he could guess it.

" Toctor," said he, " how many kind o' partridges are there
in this country ? "

"Two," said the simple-minded naturalist, "spruce and
birch."

" AVliich is the prettiest ? " "

"The birch."

" And the smartest ? "

1G2

THE BETROTHAL.

"Tho birch."

" l*(»th lovu to live in the wood», don't they ?"

" Vt'H."

" W«'ll there is a (lifFerence in colour. Ta Bpruce is red flesh,
and ta l)irch white, did you ever know them mix ? "

" Often," said the doctor, who bet;an to understand this al-
legorical talit of the North- West trader, and feel uncomfortable,
and therefon? didn't like to say no. "Well, then, the sjjruce
must stay with the pirch, or the pirch live with the spruce,"
continued Peter. " The peech wood between the two are dan-
gerous to both, for it's only fit for cuckoos."

Peter looked chutty and sulky. There was no minister at
the remote post ho had belonged to in the nor-west. The go-
vernor there read a sermon of a Sunday sometimes, but he oftener
wrote letters. The marriages, when contracted, were generally
limited to the period of service of the employes^ and sometimes
a wife was bought, or at others, entrapped like a beaver. It was
a civil or uncivil contract, as the case might be. Wooing was a>
thing he didn't understand ; for what right had a woman to an
opinion of her own ? Jessie felt for her father, the doctor, and
herself, and retired crying. The doctor said :

" Peter, you know me, I am an honest man ; give me j our
confidence, and then I will ask the Chief for the hand of hia
daughter."

" Tat is like herself," said Peter. " And she never doubted
her ; and there is her hand, which is her word. Tarn the coft'ee !
let us have a glass of whiskey."

And he poured out three, and we severally drank to each
other's health, and peace was once more restored.

Thinks I to myself, now is the time to settle this affair ; for
the doctor, Peter, and Jessie are all like children ; it's right to
show 'em how to act.

"Doctor," sais I, "just see if the cart with the moose has
arrived ; we must be a moving soon, for the wind is fair."

As soon as he went on this errand, "Peter," sais I, "the
doctor wants to marry your daughter, and she, I think, is not
unwilling, though, between you and me, you know better than
she does w^hat is good for her. Now the doctor don't know as
much of the world as you do. He has never seen Scotland, nor
the north-west, nor travelled as you have, and observed so
much."

" She never said a truer w^ord in her life," said Peter. " She
has seen the Shetlands and the Eocky Mountains — the two finest
places in the world, and crossed the sea and the Red Eiver ; pe-
sides Canada and Nova Scotia, and seen French, and pairs, and

T!IK nETUOTIIAL.

1(W

"the
U not

than
low as
Id, nor
led so

"She
) finest
(r; pe-
Ts, and

Tiulinnn. and W(»lve«, luul phio lumcH, and puflnliH'n.and Ynnkr«'H.
and |)niirii> do^H, and Iliu;hhiiid rhit'tt*, nnd Indian chirtH, and
othrr ^rt'at Hlu'ntk'nien, m-nidfH pcavorHwith thi'ir tails on. Sh»'
has mm the pest part ot the world, Mr JSliek." And lie liuditt'd
W\H pipe in his entliUHiasni, whi'ii enumerating what he had M(«*n,
and lo(»ked at4 if he felt t;ood all over.

"Well," Bais i, "the (hx-tor, like an honourahlo man, has
asked Squire IVter MeDonald lor his daughter; now, when he
eomes in,eall Jessie and plaee her hand in his, and say you eon-
sent, and let tlie spruee and birt-h partridge go and live near the
Jake together."

"Tat she will," said he, "for ta toctor is a shentleman pred
and porn, though she hasn't the honour to be a Highlander."

As soon as the JJaehelor Heaver returned, Peter went on this
])aternal mission, for whieh I prepared my friend ; and the be-
trothal was duly performed, when he said in Gaelic:

"Dhia Beammich sibh le choile mo chlam! God bless you
both, my children ! "

As soon as the ceremony was over, " Now," sais I, " we must
be a movin'. Come, Peter, let us go on board. Where are the
pipes ? Strike up your merriest tune."

And he preceded us, playing, " Nach damhsadh am minsfer"
in his best manner — if anything can be said to be good, where
bad is the best. When we arrived at the beach. Cutler and mv
old friend, the black steward, were ready to receive us. It would
have been a bad omen to have had Sorrow meet the betrothed
pair so soon, but that was only a jocular name given to a very
merry negro.

" Well, Sorrow," sais I, as we pushed off in the boat, " how
are you ? "

" Very bad, Massa," he said, " T ab been used most rediculous
shamful since you left. Time was berry dull on board since you
been withdrawn from de light ob your countenance, and de crew
sent on shore, and got a consignment ob rum, for benefit ob un-
derwriters, and all consarned as dey said, and dey sung hymns,
as dey call nigga songs, like Lucy Neal and Lucy Long, and den
dey said we must hab abk tion sarmon ; so dey fust corned me,
Massa."

" In the beef or pork-barrel, Sorrow ? " said I.

" Oh, Lord bless you, Massa, in needer ; you knows de mean-
ing ob dat are word — I is sure you does — dey made me most
tosieated, Massa, and dey said, ' Sorrow, come preach ablution
sarmon.' Oh, Massa, I was berry sorry, it made me feel all ober
like ague ; but how could I insist so many ; what w'as I to do,
dey fust made me der slave, and den said, ' Now tell us bout man-

lot

THE BETROTHAL.

tl !|

cij)ation.' AVell, dey gnb me glass oh rum, and I swallowed it —
berry bad rum — *vell, dat wouldn't do. Well, den dey pub me
anoder glass, and dat wouldn't do ; dis here ehild hab trong head,
Massa, werry trong, but he hoped de rum was all out, it was so
bad ; den dey rejeetioned anoder in my face, and I paused and
crastimated: sais I, 'Masters, is you done?' for dis child was
afeard, Massa, if he drank all de bottle empty, dey would tro dat
in his face too, so sais I :

"Masters, I preaches under protest, against owners and ship
for baudonment ; but if I must out to sea, and dis niggar don't
know how to steer by lunar compass, here goes.' Sais I, ' My
dear bredren,' and dey all called out :

" ' You farnal niggar you ! do you call us bredren, when you
is as black as de debbil's hind leg ? '

" ' I beg your most massiful pardon,' sais I, ' but as you is
ablutionists, and when you preach, calls us regraded niggars
your coloured bredren, I tought I might venture to foUer inde
same suit, if I had a card ob same colour.'

" Well done. Uncle Tom,' sais they. ' AVell done. Zip Coon,'
ard dey made me swallow anoder glass ob naited truth. Dis
here child has a trong head, Massa, dat are a fac. He stand so
much sun, he ain't easy combustioned in his entails.

" ' Go on,' sais they.

" W^ell, my bredren,' sais I, " I will dilate to you the valy of
a niggar, as put in one scale and white man in de oder. Now,
bredren, you know" a sparrer can't fall to de ground no how he
can lix it, but de Lord knows it — in course ob argument you
do. Well, you know^s twelve sparrers sell in de market for one
penny. In course ob respondence you do. How much more den
does de Lord care for a niggar like me, who is worth six hun-
dred dollars and lifty cents, at de least ? So, gentlemen, I is
done, and now please, my bredren, I will pass round de hat wid
your recurrence.'

" Well, dey was pretty high, and dey behaved like gentle-
mc 11, I must submit dat ; dey gub me four dollars, dey did — dey
is great friends to niggar, and great mancipationists, all ob dem ;
and I would hab got two dollars more, I do rally conclude, if I
hadn't a called 'em my bredren. Dat was a slip ob de lock-

" I must inquire into this," said Cutler, " it's the most in-
decent thing I ever heard of. It is downright profanity ; it is
shocking,"

" Very," said I, " but the sermon wam't a bad one ; I never
heard a niggar reason before ; I knew they could talk, and so
can Lord Tandemberry; but as for reasoning, I never heerd

THE liETROTHAL.

1G5

never

and so

heercl

either one or the other attempt it before. There is an approach
to hj^MC in that."

" There is a very good hit at the hypocrisy of abohtionista
in it," said the doctor; "that appeal about my bredren is capi-
tal, and the passing round of the hat is quite evangelical."

" Oigh," said Peter, " she have crossed the great sea and the
^oat prairies, and she haven't heerd many sarmons, for Sunday
don't come but once a month there, but dat is the pest she ever
heerd, it is so short."

"Slick," said Cutler, "I am astonished at you. Give way
there, my men ; ease the bow oar."

" Exactly," sais I, " Cutler — give way there, my man ; ease
the bow oar — that's my maxim too — how the devil can you learu
if you don't hear?" sais J.

" How can you learn good," said he, " if you listen to evil?"

" Let's split the difterence," said I, laughing, " as I say in
swapping ; let's split the difterence. If you don't study man-
kind how can you know the world at all ? But if you want to
preach — "

" Come, behave yourself," said he, laughing ; " lower down ■
the man ropes there."

"To help up the tcomen,^^ said I.

" Slick," said he, " it's no use talking ; you are incorrigible."

The breakfast was like other breakfasts of the same kind ;
and, as the wind was fair, we could not venture to offer any
amusements to our guests. So in due time we parted, the doc-
tor alone, of the whole party, remaining on board. Cutler made
the first move by ascending the companion-ladder, and I shook
hands with Peter as a hint for him to follow. Jessie, her sister,
Ovey, and I, remained a few minutes longer ia the cabin. The
former was much agitated.

" Good bye," said she, " Mr Slick ! Next to him," pointing
to the Bachelor Beaver, " you have been the kindest and best
friend I ever bad. You have made me feel what it is to be
happy ; " and woman-like, to prove her happiness, burst out a
crying, and threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. " Oh !
Mr Slick ! do w^e part for ever ? "

" For ever ! " sais I, trying to cheer her up ; " for ever is a
most thundering long word. No, not for ever, nor for long
either. I expect you and the doctor will come and visit us to
Slickville this fall ; " and I laid an emphasis on that word " ms,"
because it referred to what I had told her of Sophy.

" Oh ! " said she, " how kind that is ! "

" "Well," sais I, " now I will do a kinder thing. Jane and I
will go on deck, and leave }ou and the doctor to bid each other

US''

16G

TTIE BETROTHAL.

good-lno." Ah I reached the door, I tiiriifd and said : " Jessie,
teacli him Gaelic the way Flora taught lue — ilo bhileau hoidheuch
(with your pretty lips)."

As the boat drew alongside, Peter bid me again a most
alFectionate, if not a most complimentary farewell.

*' She has never seen many Yankees herself," said Peter,
" but prayin' Joe, the horse-stealer — tam liim — and a few New
England pedlars, who asked three hundred per shent for their
coots, but Mr Slick is a shentleman, every inch of him, and the
pest of them she ever saw, and she w ill pe glad to see her again
whenever she comes this way."

AVhen they were all seated in the boat, Peter played a dole-
ful ditty, which I. Lave no doubt expressed the grief of his heart.
But I am sorry to say it was not much appreciated on board of
the " Black Hawk." By the time they reached the shore, the
anchor was up, the sails trimmed, and we were fairly out of
Ship Harbour.

CHAPTER XTII.

A TOGOY ^'I011T.

The wind, what there was of it, was off shore ; it was a
light north-wester, but after we made an offing of about ten
miles, it failed us, being evidently nothing but a land breeze,
and we were soon becalmed. After tossing about for an hour
or two, a light cat's-paw gave notice that a fresh one was spring-
ing up, but it was from the east, and directly ahead.

" We shall make poor work of this," said the pilot, " and I am
afraid it will bring up a fog with it, which is a dangerous thing on
this coast, I would advise therefore returning to Ship Harbour,"
but the captain said, " Business must be attended to, and as tnere
was nothing more of the kind to be done there, we must only
have patience and beat up for Port Liscomb, which is a great
resort for fishennen." I proposed w^e should take the wind as
we found it, and run for Chesencook, a French settlement, a
short distance to the w estward of us, and effect our objet t there,
which I thought very probable, as no American vessels put in
there if they can avoid it. This proposition met the approval
of all parties, so we put the " Black Hawk " before the wind, and
by sunset were safely and securely anchored. The sails were

A FOGGY NIGHT.

107

scarcely furled before the fojj set in, or rather rose up, for it
.teemed not so nuicli to come from the sea as to ascend from it,
as steam rises from heated water.

It seemed the work of maj^ic, its appearance was so sudden.
A moment before there was a glorious sunset, now we had im-
penetrable darkness. "NV'e were envelo])ed as it were in a cloud,
the more dense perhaps because its propjress was arrested by
the spruce hills, back of the village, and it had receded unon
itself The little French settlement (for the inhabitants ^.ere
all descended from the ancient Acadians) was no longer dis-
cernible, and heavy drops of water fell from the rigging on the
deck. The men put on their "sow- wester" hats and yellow
oiled cotton jackets. Their hair looked grey, as if there had
been sleet falling. There was a great change in the tempera-
ture — the w^eather appeared to have suddenly retrograded to
April, not that iL was so cold, but that it was raw and uncom-
fortable. We shut the companion-door to keep it from de-
scending there, and paced the deck and discoursed upon this dis-
agreeable vapour bath, its cause, its effects on the constitutron,
and so on.

" It does not penetrate far into the country," said the doc-
tor, " and is by no means unhealthy — as it is of a diiferent cha-
racter altogether from the land fog. As an illustration how-
ever of its density, and of the short distance it rises from the
water, I will tell you a circumstance to which I was an eye-
witness. I was on the citadel hill at Halifax once, and saw the
points of the masts of a mail-steamer above the fog, as she was
proceeding up the harbour, and I waited there to asc^ain if
she could possibly escape George's Island, which lay directly in
her track, but w^liich it was manifest her pilot could not discern
from the deck. In a few moments she was stationary. All this
I could plainly perceive, although the hull of the vessel was in-
visible. Some idea may be formed of the obscurity occasioned
by the fog, from the absurd stories that were waggishly put
abroad at the time of the accident. It was gravely asserted
that the first notice the sentinel had of her approach, was a
poke in the side from her jibboom, which knocked him over into
the moat and broke two of his ribs, and it was also maintained
with equal truth that when she came to the wharf it was found
she had brought away a small brass gun on her bowsprit, into
which she had thrust it like the long trunk of an elephant."
"Well," sais I, " let Halifax alone for hoaxes. There are some
droll foves in that place, that's a fact. Many a laugh have I
had there, I tell you. But, Doctor," sais I, "just listen to the
noises on shore here at Chesencook. It's a curious thing to

\ i a

108

A FOGGY NIGHT.

hear the shout of the anxious mother to her vapT^nt hoy to re-
tuni, hefore nipjht makes it too dark to find his way home, ain't
it? and to listen to the noisy pamhols of invisihlc children, the
man in the cloud hawline; to his ox, as if the ihf; had affected
their hearinqj instead of their sight, the sharp rin^ij of the axe at
the wood pile, and the barking of the dogs as they defy or salute
each other. One I fancy is a grumbling bark, as much as to
Bay, ' No sleep for us, ola boy, to-night, some of these coasters
will be making love to our sheep as they did last week, if we
don't keep a bright look out. If you hear a fellow speak Eng-
lish, pitch right into the heretic, and bite like a snapping turtle.
I always do so in the dark, for they can't swear to you when
they don't see you. If they don't give me my soup soon (how
like a French dog that, ain't it ?) I'll have a cod-fish for my sup-

Eer to-night, off of old Jodry's flakes at the other end of the
arbour, for our masters bark so loud they never bite, so let
them accuse little Paul Longille of theft.' I wonder if dogs
do talk, Doctor?" said I.

" There is no doubt of it," he replied. " I believe both ani-
mals and birds have some means of communicating!; to each
other all that is necessary for them — I don't go further."

" "Well, that's reasonable," sais I ; " I go that figure, too,
but not a cent higher. Now there is a nigger," sais I ; and I
would have given him a wink if I could, and made a jupe of my
head towards Cutler, to show him I was a goin' to get the cap-
tain's dander up for fun ; but what's the use of a wink in a fog ?
In the first place, it ain't easy to make one ; your lids are so
everlastin' heavy; and who the plague can seo v'jv if you do?
and if he did notice it, he would only think yoT^ ,V(:*yv^ tryin'

to protect your peepers, that's all. Wel^. i wink is no ' etter
nor a nod to a blind horse; so I gave him a ni:dg- iiidtead.
" Now, there is the nigger. Doctor," sais I, " do you think he
has a soul?* It's a question I always wanted to ask Brother
Eldad, for I never see him a dissectin' of a darky. If I had, I
should have known ; for nature has a place for everything, and
everything in it's place.'

■>>

• This very sin^lar and inconsequential rhodomontade of Mr Slick is one
of those starthng pieces of levity that a stranger often hears from a person of
his class in hi" ■ '•avels on this side of the water. The odd mixture of strong
religious fee?i!,f and repulsive looseness of conversation on serious subjects,
which may here it^-. ..mci ) be found in his Diary, naturally results from a free
association with pers >rs of ali. 'f no creeds. It is the most objectionable trait
in his character — to reject it altogether would be to vary the portrait he has
given us of ijir.e'f — ♦: ivl ait :t, lowers the e^ imate we might otherwise be
disposed to form o*" ^'m - iu't, a? L? hivs oftca observed, what is the u-^e of a
sketch if it be ^ >>r lai'byul .»

-4 FOGGY NIGHT.

IfiO

" M)' Slick," said Cutler, — be nover cr.llo(l me Mr before, and
it 8bf)wed he was mad, — "do yojj doubt it?"

" Xo," eais I, " 1 don't ; my only doubt is whether thev have
three?"

" Wliat in the world do you mean ?" said he.

"Well," sais I, "two souls we know they have — their jn^eat
lat splaw feet show tha, , and a.s hard as jackasses' they are too ;
out the third is my difficulty ; if they have a spiritual soul, where
is it ? We ain't jest satistied about its locality in ourselves. Is
it in the heart, or the brain, or where does it hani? out ? We
know pjeese have souls, and we know where to tind them."

" Oh, oh ! " said Cutler.

" Cut oif the legs and wings and breast of the goose," sais I,
"and split him down lengthways, and right agin the back-bone
is small cells, and there is the goose's soul, it's black meat,
pretty much nigger colour. Oh, it's grand ! It's the moat de-
licate part of the bird. It's what I always ask for myself, when
folks say, *Mr Slick, what part shall I help you to — a slice of
the breast, a wing, a side-bone, or the deacon's nose, or what ?'
Everybody laughs at that last word, especially if there is a
deacon at table, for it sounds unctious, as he calls it, and he
can excuse a joke on it. So he laughs himself, in token of ap-
probation of the tid-bits being reserved for him. ' Give me the
soul,' sais I ; and this I will say, a most delicious thing it is,
too. Now, don't groan. Cutler — keep that for the tooth-ache,
or a campmeetin' ; it's a waste of breath ; for as we don't ex-
actly know where our own souls reside, what harm is there to
|)ursue such an interesting investigation as to our black brethren.
My private opinion is, if a nigger has one, it is located in his
heel."

"Oh, Mr Slick!" said he, "oh!" and he held up both
hands.

" Well," sais I, "Cutler, just listen to reason now, just hear
mc ; you have been all round the world, but never in it ; now,
I have been a great deal in it, but don't care for goin' round it.
It don't pay. Did you ever see a nigger w-ho had the gout ? for
they feed on the best, and drink of the best, when they ar
household servants down south, and often have the gout. I.
you have, did you ever hear one say, * Get otf my toes ? ' No,
never, nor any other created critter. They always say, ' Get off
my heel.' They are all like Lucy Long, ' when her foot was in
the market-house, her heel was in Main-street.' It is the pride
and boast of a darky. His head is as thick as a ram's, but his
heel is very sensi^u'e. Now, does the soul reside there ? Did
you ever study a dead nigger's heel, as we do a horse's frog.

!'.j

170

A FOGGY NIGHT.

All the feeling of a liorac ih there. Wound that, and he never
recovers ; he is foiuidered — his heart is broke. Now, if a nigger
has a soul, and it ain't in his gix/.ard, and can t in natur be in
his skull, why, it stands to reason it must be in his heel."

" Oh, Mr Slick," said Cutler, '" I never thought I should
have heard this from vou. It's do\mright profanity."

•' It's no such thmg," sais I, " it's merely a philosophical
investigation. Mr Cutler," sais I, " let us understand each other.
I have been brought up by a minister as well as you, and I be-
lieve your father, the clergyman at Barnstaple, was aa good a
man as ever lived ; but Barnstaple is a small place. My dear
old master, Mr Hopewell, was an old man who nad seen a great
deal in his time, and knew a great deal, for he had 'gone through
the mill.' "

"What is that?" said he.

" Why," saia I, " when he was a boy, he was intended, like
Washington, for a land-surveyor, and studied that branch of
business, and was to go to the w'oods to lay out lots. Well, a
day or two arter he was diplomatised as a surveyor, he went to
bathe in a mill-pond, and the mill was a goin' like all statiee,
and sucked him into the uume, and he weut through into the
race below, and came out t'other side with both his legs broke.
It was a dreadful accident, nud gave him serious reflections, for
as he lay in bed, he thought h( might just as easily lij*,e broke
hia neck. Well, in our country about Slickville, any man arter
that v!io was wise and had experience of life, was said to have
* gone through the mill.' Do you take ? "

But he didn't answer.

" Well, your father and my go .1 old friend brought us both
up religiously, and I hope taught us what was right. But, Mr
Cutler -"

" Don't call me Mr," said he.

"Well, Cutler, then, I have been 'through the mill,' in that
sense I have acquired a knowledge of the world ; if I havn't,
the kicks I have taken .nust have fallen on barren ground.
I know the chalk line in life won't do always to travel by. If
you go straight a-head, a bottomletts quag or a precipice will
bring you up all standing as sure as fate. Well, they don't
stop me, for I givt? them the go-by, and make a level line with-
out a titunel, or tubular bridge, or any other scientific folly ; I
get to the end my own way — and it ain't a slow one neither.
I<et me be, and put this in your pipe. I have set many a man
straight before now, but I never put one on the wrong road
since I was raised. 1 dare say you have heard I cheated in
clocks — I never did. I have sold a fellow one for five pounds

A FOGGY NIGHT.

that cost me ono; skill did tlmt. Let him send to London, anil
f,'et one of Bjirraud's, ah father did, for twenty-tivc ])oun(ls ster-
linflf. Will it keep better time? 1 puef».s not. Is that a ease
of sell r* AV'ell, m^' knowledj^e of hoi^se-flesh ain't to he sneezed
at. I biiv cue for fifty dollars and sell him for two hundred ;
that's skill acjain— it ain't a cheat. A merchant, thinkin«:; a Rus-
sian war inevitable, buys flour at four dollars a barrel, and sells
it in a month at sixteen. Is that a fraud ? There is rogttrrj/ in
all trades but our own. Let me alone therefore. There is wis-
dom sometimes in u fool's answer; the learned are simple, the
ignorant wise ; hear them both ; above all, hear them out ; and
if they don't talk with a looseness, draw them out. If Newman
had talked as well as studied, he never would have quitted his
church. He didn't convince himself he Mas vrrong ; he bothered
himself, so he didn't at last know riglit from wrong. If other
folks had talked freely, they would have met him on the road,
and told him, " Tou have lost your way, old boy ; there is a river
a-head of you, and a very civil ferryman there ; he will take you
over free gratis for nothing ; but the deuce a bit will he bring
you back, there is an embargo that side of the water.' Now let
me alone ; I don't talk nonsense for nothing, and when you tack
this way and that way, and beat the ' Black Hawk' up agen the
wind, I von't tell you you don't steer right on end on a bee
line, p.nd go as straight as a loon's leg. Do you take ?"

" I understand you," he said, " but still I don't see the use
of sjtying what you don't mean. Perhaps it's my ignorance or
prejudice, or whatever you choose to call it ; but I dare say you
know what you are about."

" Cutler," sais T, " I wam't born yesterday. The truth is,
so much nonsense is talked about niggers, I feel riled wlien I
think of it. It accilly makes me feel spotty on the back.* AVhen
I was to Loi.doa last, I was asked to attend a meetin' for found-
in' a college for our coloured brethren. Uncle Tom had set
some folks half craiiy, and others half mad, and what he couldn't
do Aunt Harriet did. • "Well,' sais I to myself, 'is this bunkum,
or what in natur is it ? If I go, I shall be set down as a spooney
abolitionist ; if I don't go, I shall be set down as an ovci'seer
or nigger driver, and not a clockmaker. I can't ])iease nobody
any way, and, what is wus, I don't believe 1 shall please

• This extraordinary effect of anger and fear on nniBials was observel
centuries before America was discovered. Statius, a writer who fully equaU
Mr Slick both in his affectation and bombast, thus alludes to it : —
" Qualis ubi audito venantum murraure tij^ris,

Horruit in maculas."
"As when the tigress hears the hunter's din.
Dark angry spots distain her glossy skin."

172

A FOGGY NIGHT.

^Ir Slick, no how I can fix it. Howsoever, I will go and see
which way the mule kicks.'

" Well, Lord Hlotherumskite jumps up, and makes a speech ;
and what do you think he set about proving? Why, that dark-
ies had immortal souls — as if any created critter ever doubted
it ! and he pitched ii.to us Yankees and the poor colonists like
a thousand of bricks. The fact is, the way he painted us both
out, one would think he doubted whether we had any souls.
The pious galls turned up the whites of their eyes like clucks in
thunder, as if they e.xpected drakes to fall from the skies, and
the low church folks called out, ' Hear, hear,' as if he had dis-
covered the pa£. 'fi at the North Pole, which I do think might
be made of some use if it wam't blocked up with ice for ever-
lastingly. And he talked of that great big he-nigger, Uncle Tom
Lavender, who was as large as a bull buffalo. He said he only
wished he was in the House of Peers, for he would have aston-
ished their lordships. Well, so far he was correct, for if he had
been in their hot room, I think Master Lavender would have
astonished their weak nerves so, not many would have waited
to vo counted. There would soon have been a dispersion, but
there never would have be^n a division^

" Well, what did you do ? " said Cutler.

" Kept my word," sais I, "as I always do. I seconded the
motion, but I gave them ?. dose of common sense, as a founda-
tion to build upon. I told them niggers must be prepared for
liberty, and when they were sufficiently instructed to receive
and appreciate the bles -mg, they must have elementary know-
ledge, lurst in religion, ai;il then in the useful arts, before a col-
lege should be attempted, and so on, and then took up my hat
and walked out. Well, they ah^iost hissed me, and the sour
virgins who bottled up all their humanity to pour out on tlie
niggers, actilly pointed at me, and called me a Yankee Pussvite.
I had some capital stories to excite 'em with, but I didn't think
they were worth the powder and shot. It takes a great many
strange people. Cutler," sais I, " to make a world. I used to
like to put the leak into folks wunst, but I have given it up in
disgust now."

" Why ? " sais he.

" Because," sais I, " if you put a leak into a cask that hain't
got much in it, the grounds and settlin's won't pay for the trouble.
Our people talk a groat deal of nonsense about emancipation,
but they know it's all bunkum, and it serves to palmeteer on,
and makes a pretty party catch-word. But in England, it ap-
pears to me, they always like what they don't understand, as
niggers do Latin and Greek quotations in sermons. But here

A FOGGY NIGIiT.

173

is Sorrow. I suppose tea is ready, as tlie old ladies say. Come,
old boy," sais I to Cutler, " shake hands ; we have the same ob-
ject iu view, but sometimes we tra\ el by ditlerent trains, that's all.
Come, let us go below. Ah, Sorrow," sais 1, "something smells
good here ; is it a moose steak ? Take otl" that dish-cover."

" Ah, Massa," said he, as he removed it, " dat are is lubbly,
dat are a fac."

AVhen I looked at it, I said very gravely —

" Take it away, Sorrow, I can't eat it ; you have put the salt
and pepper on it before you broiled it, and drawn out all the
juice. It's as dry as leather. Take it away."

" Does you tiuk it would be a little more better if it was a
little more doner, Sar ? People of 'linement, like you and me,
sometime differ in tastes. But, Massa, as to de salt, now how you
talks ! does you railly tink dis here niggar hab no more sense
den one ob dees stupid white fishermen has ? No, Massa ; dis
child knows his work, and is de boy to do it, too. Wheu de
steak is een amost done, he score him lengthway — dis way,"
passing a finger of his right hand over the palm of the left, " and
nil up de crack wid salt an pepper, den gub him one turn more,
and dat resolve it all beautiful. Oh no, Massa, moose meat is
naterally werry dry, like Yankee preacher when he got no baccy.
So I makes graby for him. Oh, here is some lubbly graby ! Try
dis, Massa. My old missus in Varginy was werry ticular about
her graby. She usen to say, ' Sorrow, it tante fine clothes makes
de gentleman, but a delicate taste for soups, and grabys, and
currys. Barbacues, roast pigs, salt meat, and such coarse tings,
is only fit for Congress men.' I kirsait my graby, Massa, is
done to de turn ob a hair, for dis child is a rambitious niggar.
Fust, Massa, 1 puts in a lump ob butter bout size ob peace ob
chalk, and a glass ob water, and den prinkle in flour to make it
look like milk, den put him on fire, and when he hiss, stir him
wid spoon to make him hush ; den I adds inion, dat is fust biled
to take ofi" de trong taste, eetle made mustard, and a pinch ob
most elegant super-superor yellow snuff."

" Snuff, you rascal ! " said I, " how dare you ? Take it away
— throw it overboard! Oh, Lord! to think of eating snuft'!
"Was there ever anything half so horrid since the world began ?
Sorrow, I thought you had better broughtens up."

" Well, now, Massa," said he, " does you tink dis niggar hab
no soul ? " and he went to the locker, and brought out a small
Sijuare pint bottle, and said, " Smell dat, Massa ; dat are olirifer-
ouS; dat are a fac."

" Why, that's curry-powder," I said ; " why don't you call
things by their right njime ? "

171

A FOGGY NIGHT.

" Mossa," said he, with a knowing wink, " dere h more gnuff
den in made of baccj/, dat are an undouhtttble fac. Do Hceiit ob
dat is 80 good, I can smell it oiihore amoMt. Den, MaHHa, when
graby iu all ready, and distrained beautiful, dis ehild warms liiin
up by de Hre and stirs him ; but," and be put his Knger on his
nose, and looked me full in the face, and paused, "but, MoH^a,
it must be stir all de one way, or it iles up, and de debbil his-
self won't put him right no more."

" Sorrow," sais I, " you dtm't know nothin* about ^our busi-
ness. Suppose it did get iled up, any fool could set it right in
a minute.

"Yes, yes, Massa," he said, "I know. I ab done it myself
often — drink it all up, and make it ober again, until all right
wunst more ; sometimes I drink him up de matter ob two or
tree times before he get quite right."

" No," sais I, " take it off the fire, add two spoonsful of cold
water, heat it again, and stir it the right way, and it is as straight
08 a boot-jack."

" Well, Massa," said he, and showed an unusual quantity of
white in his eyes, "well, Massa, you is actilly right. My ole
missus taught me dat secret herself, and I did actilly tink no
libbin' soul but me and she in de whole univarsal United States
did know dat are, for I take my oat on my last will and testa-
ment, I nebber tole nobody. But, Massa," said he, " I ab
twenty dift'erent ways — ay, 6fty different ways, to make graby ;
but, at sea, one must do de best he can with nottin' to do with,
and when nottin' is simmered a week in nottin' by de fire, it ain't
nottin' of a job to sarve him up. Massa, if you will scuze me,
I will tell you what dis here niggar tinks on de subject ob his
perfession. Some grand folks, like missus, and de Queen ob
England and de Emperor ob Itoosia, may be fust chop cooks,
and I won't deny de fac ; and no tanks to 'em, for dere sauce-
pans is all silber and gold ; but I have 'skivered dey don't know
nufifin' about de right way to eat tings after dey has gone done
'em. Me and Miss Phillesy Anne, de two confdential sarvants,
allers had de dinner sent into our room when missus done gone
feedin'. Missus was werry kind to us, and we nebber stinted
her in nufl&n'. I allers gib her one bottle wine and ' no-he-uo '
(noyeau) more den was possible for her and her company to
want, and in course good conduct is allers rewarded, cause we
had what was left. Well, me and Miss Phillis used to dress up
hansum for dinner to set good sample to niggars, and two ob de
coloured waiters tended ou us.

"So one day, said Miss Phillis to me: 'What shall I ab de
honor to help yaw to, Mr Sorrow ? '

A FOOOY NIGHT.

179

'Aunt Phillifl/ sais I, 'skuse me one minit, I nb made n
grand Hkivrrv.'

"' What is dat. uncli',' saia fho, * vou in so clrbbor! T olare
you JH wort your weight in ^;ol(l. What in natur would our drar
njiHsuH do widout you and nie? for it was nie 'skivt-ivd how Ut
euro dc pip in chickens, and niakede oi,'i,'a all hatch out, roosters
or hen.M ; and how to souse youni; turkeys like youn^ children
in cold water to prevent staggers, but what is your weution,
Mr Sorrow ? *

" ' Why,' sais I, ' auntv, skuse me one half second. AVhat
does you see out ob dat wuider, Sambo ? you impereut rascal.'

"'Numii', Sar.'

" * Well, you black niggar, if you stare bout dat way, you
will see yourself flogged next time. If you ab no manners, I
must teach you for de credit ob de plantation ; hold a plate to
Miss Phillis right away. Why, aunty,' sais I, ' dis is de 'skivery ;
a homr. must have solid foundation, but a dinner a soft one — on
count ob disgestion ; so I begins wid custard and jelly (dey tastes
werry well together, and are light on de stomae), den 1 takes
a glass ob whisky to keep 'em from turnin' sour; dat is de tirst
step. Sambo, pour me out some. Second one is presarves, ices,
fruits — strawberry and cream, or mustache churnings (pistachio
cream) and if dey is skilful stowed, den de cargo don't shift
under de hatches — arter dat comes punkin pie, pineapple tarts,
and raspberry Charlotte.'

" ' Mr Sorrow,' sais aunty, * I is actilly ashamed ob you to
name a dish arter a yaller gall dat way, and call it Charlotte ;
it's ondecent, specially afore dese niggars.'

" ' Law sakes,' sais I, ' Miss Phillis, does you tink I ab no
sense ; I hate a yaller gall as I do pyson.'

" ' So does I,' said she, ' dey is neither chalk nor cheese ; dey
is a disgrace to de plantation dey is on ; but raspberry Charlotte
is a name I nebber heard tell ob for a dish."

" * Why, how you talks,' sais I. ' Well, den is de time for
fish, such as stewed rocks.'

" ' Now you is a funnin',' sais aunty, ' isn't you ? how on
airth do you stew rocks ? yah ! yah ! yah ! '

" ' Easy as kiss my hand to you,' sais I, * and if dere be no
fish (and dat white Yankee oberseer is so cussed lazy bout
catchin' of dem, I must struct missus to discharge him). Den
dere is two nice little genteel dishes, ' birds in de grobe,' and
' plover on de shore,' and den top off" wid soup ; and I ain't par-
ticular about dat, so long as I ab de best ; and dat. Miss Phillis,
makes a grand soft bed, you see, for stantials like beef or mut-
ton, or ham, or venson, to lay down essy on.'

IMAGE EVALUATION
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176

A FOGGY NIGHT.

[

"'Well, you is a wonderful ma a, Mr Sorrow,' sais Miss
Phillis, ' 1 do really tink dat stands to reason and experience.
"When I married my fifF husband — no, it waru't my fiff, it was
my sixth — I had lubly baby tree month old, and my old man
killed it maken speriments. He would give it soup and minced
\eal to make it trong. Sais I, ' Mr Csssar, dat ain't natur ; fust
ou know it must ab milk, den pap and so on in order.' Sais
le, * I alius feeds master's young bull-dogs on raw meat. Well,
Caesar died dat samt identical night child did ' (and she gub
lue a wink) ; ' sunthen disagreed wid him also that he eat.'
(' Oh Massa,' he continued, ' bears dat ah cubs and women dat ah
childern is dangerous.') ' Mr Sorrow,' said she, * dat is a great
'skivery of yourn ; vou'd best tell missus.'

"•I is most a^ard she is too much a slave to fashion,'
sais I.

" * Uncle,' said she, * vou mustn't say dat ob dear Miss Lunn,
or I must decline de ouor to dine wid you. It ain't spectful.
Mr Sorrow, my missus ain't de slave ob fashion — she sets it, by
golly ! ' and she stood up quite dignant.

" ' Sambo, clar out ob dis dinin' room quick stick,' sais I to
de waiter ; ' you is so fond ob lookin' out on de field, you shall
go work dere, you lazy hound ; walk out ob de room dis minit ;
when I has finished my dinner, I will make you jine de lab'^r
gang. Misa Phillis, do resume your seat agin, you is right as
you alius is ; shall I ab de honour to take glass ob wine wid you?'

" Now, Massa, try dat 'skivery ; you will be able to eat tree
times as much as you do now. Arter dat invention, I used to
enjoy ray sleep grand. I went into de hottest place in de sun,
laid up my face to him, and sleep like a cedar stump, but den I
ttUus put my veil on."

" To keep the flies off? " said I.

" Lordy gracious ! no, master, dey nebber trouble me ; dey is
afraid in de dark, and when dey see me, dey tink it is night, and
cutoff"."

" What is the use of it, then r "

" To save my complexion, Massa ; I is afraid it will fade
white. Yah, yah, yah ! "

While we were engaged in eating our steak, he put some
glasses on the table and handed me a black bottle, about two-
thirds full, and said, '' Massa, dis here fog ab got down my troat,
and up into my head, and most kill me, I can't tell wedder dat
is wine or rum, I is almost clean gwine distracted. Will Massa
please to tell me ? "

I knew what he was at, so sais I, " If you can't smell it,
taste it." Well, he poured a glass so full, nobody but a nigger

A FOGGY NIGHT.

177

fade V

some
two-
Toat,

dat y
[assa

could have readied his mouth with it without spilliiig. "When
he had swallowed it he looked still more puzzlea.

" Peers to me," he said, " dat is wine, he is so mild, and den
it peers to me it's rum, for when it gets down to de stomach he
feel so good. But dis child ab lost his taste, his smell, and his
finement, altogedder."

He then poured out another bumper, and as soon as he had
tossed it off, said, " Dat is de clear grit ; dat is oleriferous — wake
de dead amost, it is de genuine piticular old Jamaicky, and no
mistake. I must put d^t bottle oaek and give you todder one,
dat must be wine for sartain, for it is chock full, but rum vap-
orates bery fast when de cork is drawn. Missus used to say,
* Sorrow, meat, when kept, comes bery high, but rum gets bery
low,* "

" Happy fellow and lucky fellow too, for what white man in
your situation would be treated so kindly and familiarly aa you
are ? The fact is, Doctor, the negroes of America, as a class,
whether slaves or free men, experience more real consideration,
and are more comfortable, than the peasants of almost any coun-
try in Europe. Their notions of the origin of white men are
very droll, when the things are removed I will make him give
you his idea on the subject.

" Sorrow," said I, " what colour was Adam and Eve ? "

" Oh, Massa," said he, " don't go for to ask dis child what
you knows yourself better nor what he does. I will tell you
some oder time, I is bery poorly just now, dis uncountable fog
ab got into my bones. Dis is shocking bad country for niggars ;
oh, dere is nuflfin' like de lubbly sout ; it's a nateral home for
blackies.

* In Souf Carolina de ni^ars grow
If de white man will omj plant his toe,
Den dey water de groundf wid haccy smoke,
And out oh de soil dere heads will poke.

Ring de hoop, hlow de horn,

I nebher see de like since I was bom,

"Way down in de counte-ree.

Four or five mile from de ole Peedee.'

" Oh, Massa, dis coast is only fit for seals, porpoises, and
dog-fish, but not for gentlemen, nor niggars, nor ladies. Oh, I
berry bad," and he pressed both hands on his stomach as if he
was in great pain.

*' Perhaps another glass of old Jamaica would set you right,"
I said.

" Massa, what a most a grand doctor you would ab made,"
he said. " Tab, yah, yah — ^you know de wery identical medicine

••

178

A FOGGY NIGHT.

for de wery identical disease, don't you ? dat is just what natur
was callin' for eber so bad."

" Natur," sais I, " what's that, spell it."

" K-u-m," said he, " dat is human natur, and whiskey is soft
sawder, it tickle de troat so nice and go down so slick. Dem
is de names mv old missus used lo gib 'em. Oh, how she would
a lubb'd you, if you had spunked up to her and tied up to cur
plantation ; she aidn't fection Yankees much, for dem and dead
niggars is too cold to sleep with, and cunnuchs (Canadians) she
hated like pison, cause they 'ticed off niggars ; but she'd a took
to you naterally, you is such a good cook. I always tink, Massa,
when folks take to eatin' same breakfast, same lunch, same din-
ner, same tea, same supper, drinkin' same soup, lubbin' same
graby, and fectioning same presarves and pickles, and cakes and
pies, and wine, and cordials, and ice-creams, den dey plaguy
soon begin to rambition one anodder, and when dey do dat, dey
i*^ sure to say, ' Sorrow, does you know how to make weddin' cake,
and frost him, and set him off partikelar jam, wid wices of all
kinds, little koopids, and cocks and hens, and brles of cotton, figs
of baccy, and ears of com, and all sorts of pretty things done in
clarfied sugar. It do seem nateral to me, for when our young
niggars go sparkin' and spendin' evenings, dey most commonly
marries. It stand to reason. But, Massa, I is bery bad indeed
wid dia dreadful pain in my infernal parts — I is indeed. Oh,"
said he, smackin' his lips, and drainin' his glass, " dat is def to a
white man, but life to a niggar ; dat is sublime. What a pity
it is though dey make de glasses so almighty tunderin' small ;
de man dat iuwentcd dem couldn't a had no remaginable nose
at all, dat are a fac."

" But the colour of Adam ?" said I.

"Oh, Massa," he said, " you know3 bery well he was a black
gentleman, and Missus Eve a most splendid Swanga black lady.
Oh yes, Massa, dey were made black to enjoy de grand warm
sun. Well, Cain was a wicked man, cause he killed his brudder.
So de Lord say to him one day, ' Cain, where is your brudder ? '
' I don't know, Massa,' said he, ' I didn't see him nowhere.' Well,
de next time he asked him de sef-same question, and he answered
quite sarcy, ' How in de world does I know,' sais he, * I ain't my
brudder's keeper.' Well, afore he know'd where he was, de Lord
said to him, in a voice of tunder, * You murdered him, you vil-
lain ! ' And Cain, he was so scared, he turned white dat very
instant. He nebber could stand heat, nor enjoy summer no more
again, nor none ob his childer arter him, but Abel's children re-
main black to dis day. Fac, Massa, fac, I does assure you. When
you like supper, Massa ? "

A FOGGY NIGHT.

179

"At ton o'clock," sais I.

" AVell, den, I will go and get sunthen nice for you. Oh ! my
ole missus was a lubbly cook ; I don't believe in my heart de
Queen ob England could hold a candle to her! she knowed
twenty-two and a half ways to cook Indian com, and ten or
twelve ob 'em she inwented herself dat was de stonishment ob
ebbery one."

" Half a way," I said, " what do you mean by that ? "

" Why, Massa, de common slommachy way people ab ob boil-
ing it on de cob ; dat she said was only half a way. Oh, Lordy
gracious, one way she wented, de com was as white as snow, aa
light as puif, and so delicate it disgested itself in de mout."

" You can go," said Cutler.

" Tankee, Massa," said Sorrow, with a mingled air of sub-
mission and fun, as much as to say, "I guess I don't want leave
for that, anyhow, but I thank you all the same as if I did," and
making a scrape of his hind-leg, he retired.

" Slick," said Cutler, " it isn't right to allow that nigger to
swallow so much rum ! How can one wonder at their degrada-
tion, when a man like vou permits them to drink in that man-
ner?" "

" Exactly," sais I, " you think and talk like all abolitionists,
as my old friend Colonel Crockett used to say, the Yankees al-
ways do. He said, ' When they sent them to pick their cher-
ries, they made them whistle all the time, so that they couldn't
eat any.' I understand blacks better than you do. Lock up
your liquor and they will steal it, for their moral perceptions are
weak. Trust them, and teach them to use, and not abuse it.
Do that, and they will be grateful, and prove themselves trust-
worthy. That fellow's drinking is more for the fun of the thing
than the love of liquor. Negroes are not drunkards. They are
droll boys ; but. Cutler, long before thrashing machines were
invented, there was a command, 'not to muzzle the ox that
treadeth out the com.' Put that in your pipe, my boy, the next
time you prepare your Xinnikennic for smoking, will you ? "

" Kinnikennic," said the doctor, "what under the sun is
that?"

" A composition," sais I, " of dry leaves of certain aromatic
plants and barks of various kinds of trees, an excellent substitute
for tobacco, but when mixed with it, something super-superior.
If we can get into the woods, I will show you how to prepare
it ; but, Doctor," sais I, " I build no theories on the subject oi
the Africans; I leave their construction to other and wiser men
than myself. Here is a sample of the raw material, can it be
manufactured into civilization of a high order ? Q stands for

ISO

FEMALE COLLIXJES.

query, don't it? Well, all 1 shall do is to put a Q to it, and lot
politiciant) answer it; bti I can't hflp thinking there is some
truth in the old saw, * JVhere ignorance is hUts, Uis follg to be

wue.

CHAPTER XIV.

FEMALE COLLEGES.

After Sorrow had retired, we lighted our cigars, and turned
to for a chat, if chat it caa be called one, where I did most of
the talking myself.

" Doctor," said T, " I wish I had had more time to have ex-
amined your collection of minerals. I had no idea Nova Scotia
could boast of such an infinite variety of them. You could have
taught me more in conversation in five minutes than I could
have learned by books in a month. You are a mineralogist, and
I am sorry to say I ain't, thouj^h every boarding-school miss
now-a-days in our country consaits she is. They are up to trap
at any rate, if nothing else, you may depend," and I gave him
a wink.

" Now don't, Slick," said he, " now don't set me off, that's a
good fellow."

" ' Mr Slick,' said a young lady of about twelve years of age
to me wunst, * do you know what gray wackey is ? for I do.'

" * Don't I,' sais I ; * I know it to my cost. Lord ! how my
old master used to lay it on ! ' •

" * Lay it on ! ' she said, * I thought it reposed on a primitive

" ' No it don't,' said I. * And if anybody knows what gray
wackey is, I ought ; but I don't find it so easy to repose after
it as you may. Q^rau means the gray birch rod, dear, and wackey
means layin' it on. We always called it gray whackey in school,
when a filler was catching particular Moses.'

" ' Why, how ignorant you are ! ' said she. * Do you know
what them mining iQ.Tm%,olinch, parting, oxidi black bat means ? '

" ' Wliy, in course I do ! * sais I ; * clinch is marrying, parting
is getting divorced, and black bat is where a fellow beats his wife
black and blue.'

" ' Pooh ! ' said she, ' you don't know nothing.'

" ' Well,' sais I, ' what do you know r '

" ' Why,' said she, ' I know Spanish and mathematics, ichthio-

FEM.VLE COLLEGES.

ISl

lojjy and conchology, nstronomy and dancing, mineralogy and
animal magnetism, and German and rhemittry, and French and
botany. Yes, and the u«e of the globes too. Can you tell me
what attraction and repulsion is ?

" ' To be sure I can,' said I, and I drew her on my knee and
kissed her. * That's attraction, dear.' And when she kicked
and screamed as cross as two cats, ' that, my pretty one,' I said,
' is repulsion. Now I know a great many things you don't. Can
you hem a pocket-handkerchief? '

"'Xo.'

" * Nor make a pudding ? '

"'No.'

" ' Nor make Kentucky batter ? '

(( (

No.

" * Well, do you know any useful thing in life ? '

" ' Yes, I do ; I can sing, and play on the piano, and write
valentines,* sais she, ' so get out.' And she walked away, quite
dignified, muttering to herself, 'Make a pudding, eh! well, I
want to know ! '

" Thinks I to myself, my pretty little may-flower, in this
everlastin' progressive nation of oum, where the wheel of for-
tune never stops turning day or night, and them that's at the
top one minute are down in the dirt the next, you may say, * I
want to know ' before you die, and be verv glad to change your
tune, and say, * Thank heaven I do know ! ' "

" Is that a joke of yours," said the doctor, " about the young
girl's geology, or is it really a fact ?"

" Fact, I assure you," said I. " And to prove it I'll tell you
a story about a Female College that wiU show you what pains
we take to spoil our young ladies to home. Miss Liddy Adams,
who was proprietor and 'dentess (presidentess) of a Female
College to Onionville, was a relation of mother's, and I knew
her when she was quite a young shoat of a thing to Slickville.
I shall never forget a flight into Eg3rpt I caused once in her
establishment. When I returned from the embassy, I stopped a
day in OnionviUe, near her university — for that was the name
she gave hem ; and thinks I, I will just call and look in on Lid
for old acquaintance' sake, and see how she is figuring it out in
life. Well, I raps away with the knocker as Icud as possible,
as much as to say. Make haste, for there is somebody here, when
a tall spare gall with a vinegar face opened the door just wide
enough to show her profile, and hide her back gear, and stood
to hear what I had to say. I never see so spare a gall since I
was raised. Pharaoh's lean kine warn't the smallest part of a
circumstance to her. She was so thin, she actilly seemed as if

182

FEMALE COLLEGES.

she would have to lean agin the wall to support herself wlien
she scolded, and I had to look twice at her oefore I could see
her at all, tor I warn't sure she warn't her own shadow.''

''Good gracious!" said the doctor, ''what a description!
but go on."

" ' Is the mistress to home?' said I.

" ' I have no mistress,' said she.

" * I didn't say you had,' sais I, ' for I knew you hadn't
efore you spoke.'

" * How did you know that ?' said she.

" * Because,' sais I, * seein' so handsome a lady as you, I
thought you was one of the professors ; and then I thought you
must be the mistress herself, and was a thinking how likely she
had grow'd since I seed her last. Are you one of the class-
teachers?'

" It bothered her ; she didn't know whether it was impu-
dence or admiration ; hut when a woman arbitrates on a case she
is ititerested in, she alwavs aives an award in her own favour.

" ' Walk in. Sir,' saia sne, * and I will see,' and she backed
and backed before me, not out of deference to me, but to the
onfastened hooks of her gown, and threw a door open. On the
opposite side was a large room filled with galls, peeping and
looking ove'' ach other's shoulders at me, for it was intermission.

"*Ar .089 your pupils?' sais I; and before she could
speak, I Vv.iit right past into the midst of 'em. Oh, what a
Bcuddin' and screamin' there was among them ! A rocket ex-
plodin' there couldn't a done more mischief. They tumbled
over chairs, upsot tables, and went head and heels over each
other like anything, shouting out, ' A man ! a man ! '

" * Where — where ? ' sais I, a chasin' of them, * show him to
me, and I'll soon clear him out. What is he a doing of?'

"It was the greatest fun you ever see. Out they flew
through the door at the other eend of the room, some up and
some down-stairs, singing out, * A man ! a man ! ' till I thought
they would have hallooed their daylights out. Away I flew
after them, calling out, ' Where is he ? show him to me, and
I'll soon pitch into him!' when who should I see but Miss
Liddy in the entry, as stiff' and as starch as a stand-up shirt
collar of a frosty day. She locked like a large pale icicle, stand-
ing up on its broad end, and cold enough to give you the ague
to look at her.

" * Mr Slick,' said she, * may I ask what is the meaning of
all this unseemly behaviour in the presence of young ladies of
the first families in the State ? '

" Says I, ' Miss Adam,' for as she used the word Mr as a

FEMALE COLLEGES.

183

lew

,gue

B of

handle to me, I thought I'de take a pull at the Mi»», ' some
robber or housebreaker has got in, I rather think, and scared
the young feminine gender students, for they seemed to be run-
ning after somebody, and I thought I would assist them.'

" • May I ask. Sir,* a drawin' of herself up to her full height,
as straight and as prim as a Lombardy poplar, or rather, a bull-
rush, for that's all one size. ' May I ask, Sir, what is the object
of your visit here — at a place where no gentlemen are received
but the parents or piardians of some of the children.'

" I was as mad as a hatter ; I felt a little bit vain of the
embassy to London, and my Paris dress, particularly my boots
and gloves, and all that, and I will admit, there is no use talk-
in', I rather kinder sorter thought she would be proud of the
connection. I am a good-natured man in a general way when
I am pleased, but it ain't safe to ryle me, I tell you. "When I
am spotty on the back, I am dangerous. I bit in my breath, and
tried to look cool, for I was determined to take revenge out
of her.

" * Allow me to say, Sir,' said she, a perkin' up her mouth
like the end of a silk purse, ' that I think your intrusion is as
unwelcome aa it is unpardonable. May I ask the favour of you
to withdraw ? if not, I must introduce you to the watchman.'

" ' I came,' sais I, * Miss Adam, having heard of your distin-
guished college in the saloons of Paris and London, to make a
proposal to you ; but, like a bull — '

" * Oh dear ! ' said she, * to think I should have lived to hear
such a horrid word, in this abode of learning ! '

" * But,' I went on without stopping, * like a bull in a chiny-
shop, I see I havre got into the wrong pew ; so nothin' remains
for me but to beg pardon, keep my p-oposal for where it will
be civilly received, at least, and oack out.'

" She was as puzzled as the maid. But women ain't throw-
ed oif their guard easily. If they are in a dark place, they can
feel their way out, if they can't see it. So says she, dubious
like:

" * About a child, I suppose ? '

" * It is customary in Europe,' sais I, * I believe, to talk about
the marriage first, isn't it ? but I have been so much abroad, I
am not certified as to usages here.*

" Oh, wam't she brought to a hack ! She had a great mind
to order me out, but then that word * proposal ' was one she had
only seen in a dictionary — she had never heard it ; and it is
such a pretty one, and sounded so nice to the ear ; and then
that word ' marriage * was used also, so it carried the day.

This is not a place, Mr Slick, for foundlings, I'de have

(( (I

1S4

FEMALE COLLEGES.

you to know,* she said, with an air of dispfust, ' but children
whoHO parents are of the first class of society. If,' and ahe
paused and looked at me scrutinisin*, ' if your proposals are of
that nature, walk in here, Sir, if you please, where our convers-
ation ^vill not be over-heard. Pray be seated. May I ask,
what is the nature of the proposition with which you aesign to
honour me P ' and she gave me a sntilo that would pass for one
of graciousness and sweet temper, or of encouragement. It
hadba't a decided character, and was a non-committal one. She
was doin* quite the lady, but I consaited her ear was itching to
hear what I had to say, for she put a finger up, with a beautiM
diamond ring on it, and brushea a fly ofi with it ; but, after all,
perhaps it was only to show her lily-white hand, which merely
wanted a run at grass on the after-feed to fatten it up, and
make it look quite beautiful.

" ' Certainly,' sais I, ' you may ask any question of the kind
you like.'

" It took her aback, for she requested leave to ask, and I
granted it ; but she meant it diflferent.

" Thinks I, * My pretty grammarian, there is a little grain of
difference between, * May I ask,' and, ' I must ask.' Try it
again.'

" She didn't speak for a minute ; so to relieve her, sais I :

" * When I look round here, and see how charmingly you are
located, and what your occupation is, I hardly think you would
feel disposed to leave it ; so perhaps I may as well forbear the
proposal, as it isn't pleasant to be refused.*

" * It depends,' she said, * upon what the nature of those pro-

Sosals are, Mr Slick, and who makes them,' and thin time she
id give a look of great complacency and kindness. ' Do put
down your hat. Sir. I have read your Clockmaker,' she con-
tinued ; ' I really feel quite proud of the relationship ; but I
hope you wiU excuse me for aaking. Why did you put your own
name to it, and call it ' Sam Slick the Clockmaker,' now that
you are a distinguished diplomatist, and a member of our em-
bassy at the court of Victoria the First P It's not an elegant
appellation that, of Clockmaker,' sais she, 'is it ? ' (She had
found her tongue now.) * Sam Slick the Clockmaker, a factorist
of wooden clocks especially, sounds trady, and will impede the
rise of a colossal reputation, which has already one foot in the
St Lawrence, and the other in the Mississippi.'
" ' And sneezes in the Chesapeake,' sais I.
" * Oh,' said she, in the blandest manner, ' how like you, Mr
Slick ! you don't spare a joke even on yourself. You see fun
in everything.'

FEMALE COLLEGES

185

em-
rant
had
orist
the
the

"'Better,* sais I, 'than aeeing harm in everything, as them
gaUi-'

•' • Young ladies,' said she.

" * Well, young ladies, who saw harm in me because I was a
man. What harm is there in their seeing a man ? You ain't
I'rightened at one, are you, Lidil^- ? '

" 8he evaded that with a smile, as much as to say, * Well, I
ain't much skcered, that's a fact.'

" * Mr Slick, it is a subject not worth while pursuing,' she
replied. 'You know the Ben8ittf<?ne8S, nervous delicacy, and
scrupulous innocence of the fair sex in this country, and I may
speak plainly to you as a man of the world. You must perceive
how destructive of all modesty in their juvenile minds, when
impressions are so easily made, it would he to familiarise their
youthful eyee to the larger limbs of gentlemen enveloped in
pantaloons. To speak \ Jnly, I am sure I needn't tell you it
ain't decent.*

" * Well,' sais I, ' it wouldn't be decent if they wem't envel-
oped in them.*

" She looked down to blush, but it didn't come natural, so
she looked up and smiled (as much as to say, do get out you
impudent critter. I know its bunkum as well as you do, but
don't bother me. I have a part to play.) Then she rose and
looked at her watch, and said the lecture hour for botany has
come.

"'Well,* sais I, a taking up my hat, 'that's a charming
study, the loves of the plants, for young ladies, ain't it ? they
begin with natur, you see, and — (well, she couldn't help laugh-
ing). ' But I see you are engaged.'

" ' Me,' said she, * I assure you. Sir, I know people used to
say so, afore General Peleg Smith went to Texas.'

" ' What that scallawag,' said I. * Why, that fellow ought
to be kicked out of all refined society. How could you associ-
ate with a man who had no more decency than to expect folks
to call him by name!'

"'How?' said she.

" * Why,* sais I, ' what delicate-minded woman could ever
bring herself to say 'Pe-leg. If he had called himself Hujacious
Smith, or Larger-limb Smith, or something of that kind, it would
have done, but Velea is downright ondecent. I had to leave
Boston wunst a whole winter, for making a mistake of that kind.
I met Miss Sperm one day from Nantucket, and says I, * Did
you see me yesterday, with those two elegant galls from
Albany ? *

'No,' said she, 'I didn't.*

« (

180

FEMALE COLLEGES.

" ' Strange, too/ said I, ' for I was most sure I cau^^ht a
^limpMf of you, on the other Hide of the street, and I wanted to
introduce you to them, but wam't quite sartain it was you.
My,' **"'» I, 'didn't you see a very unfcuhionable dressed man '
(and I looked down at my Pariti boots, as if I was doin^^ modest),
• with two angeliferous females? Why, I had a leg on each arm.*

" She fairly screamed out at that expression, rushed into a
milliner's shon, and cried like a gardner's watering>pot. The
names she called me ain't no matter. They were the two Miss
Leg^i'B of Albany, and cut a tall swarth, I tell you, for they
say they are descended from a covenor of Nova Scotia, when
good men, according to their tell, could be found for govenors,
and that their relations in England are some pumpkins, too. I
was as innocent as a child, Letty.'

" * Well,' said she, * you are tne most difficult man to under-
stand I ever see — there is no telling whether you are in fun or
in earnest. But as I was a saying, there was some such talk
afore General Smith went to Texas ; but that story was raised
by the Pawtaxet College folks, to injure this institution. They
did all they could to tear my reputation to chitlius. Me en-
gaged, I should like to see the man that — '

" ' Well, you seemed plaguey scared at one just now,' sais I.
' I am sure it was a strange way to show you would like to see
a man.'

" * I didn't say that,' she replied, * but you take one up so
quick.'

" * It's a way I have,* said I, ' and always had, since you and
I was to singing-school together, and larnt sharps, flats, and
naturals. It was a crotchet of mine,' and I just whipped my arm
round her waist, took her up and kissed her afore she knowed
where she was. Oh Lordy ! Out came her comb, and down fell
her hair to her waist, like a mill-dam broke loose ; and two false
curls and a braid fell on the floor, and her frill took to dancin*
round, and got wrong side afore, and one of her shoes slipt off,
and she really looked as if she had been in an indgian-scrimmage
and was ready for scalpin'.

" ' Then you ain't engaged, Liddy,' sais I ; * how glad I am
to hear that, it makes my heart jump, and cherries is ripe now,
and I will help you up into the tree, as I used to did when you
and I was boy and gall together. It does seem so nateral,
Liddy, to have a game of romps with you again ; it makes me
feel as young as a two-year-old. How beautiful you do look,
too ! My, what a pity you is shut up here, with these young
galls all day, talking by the yard about the corrallas, calyxes,
and staminas of flowers, w^hile you

FEMALE CX)LLE0E8.

1S7

*• • Are d«>om\ " nh nimoon,
And waato your iweftncu u > the denert uir.'

"'Oh,' said nhe, 'Sam, I must cut and run, and 'blush un-
Bcen,' that's a fact, or I'm ruinatt*d,' and she up cupIm. onnib,
braid, and shoe, and off like a shut into abed-room that adjoined
the parlour, and bolted the door, and double-locked it, um it' she
was afraid an attachment was to be levied on her and her chat-
tels, by the sheriff, and I was a bum-bailitf.

" Thinks I, old gall, I'll pay you off for treating me the way
you did just now, as sure as the world. ' May I aak, Mr Slick,
what is the object of this visit?' A pretty way to receive a
cousin that vou haven't seen so long, ain't it ? and thou<;h I say
it that shouldn't say it, that cousin, too, 8am 81ick, the nttachu
to our embassy to the Court of Victoria, Buckingham Palace.
You couldn't a treated me wuss if I had been one of the liveried,
powdered, bedizened, be-bloated footmen from 't'other big
nouse there of Aunt Harriette's.' I'll make you come dowu
from your stilts, and walk naterel, I know, see if I don't.

" rresently she returned, all set to rights, and a little righter,
too, for she had put a touch of rouge on to make the bluHJi Mtick
better, and her nair was slicked up snugger than before, and
looked as if it had growed like anything. 8he had also slipped
a handsome habit-shirt on, and she looked, take her altogether,
as if, though she wam't engaged, she ought to have been afore
the last five hot summers came, and the general thaw had com-
menced in the spring, and she had got thin, and out of condition.
She put her hand on her heart, and said, 'I am so skared, Sam,
I feel all over of a twitteration. The way you act is horrid.'

" ' So do 1/ sais I, ' Liddy, it's so long since you and I used
to—'

" * Ton ain't altered a bit, Sam,' said she, for the starch was
coming out, * from what you was, only you are more forrider.
Our young men, when they go abroad, come back and talk so
free and easy, and take such liberties, and say it's the fashion in
Paris, it's quite scandalous. Now, if you dare to do the like
again, I'll never speak to you the longest day I ever li-; o, I'll go
right off and leave, see if I don't.'

" ' Oh, I see, I have offended you,' sais I, * you are not in a
humour to consent now, so I will call again some other time.'

" ' This lecture on botany must now be postponed,' she said,
' for the hour is out some time ago. If you will be seated, I will
set the young students at embroidery instead, and return for a
short time, for it does seem so nateral to see you, Sam, you saucy
boy,' and she pinched my ear, ' it reminds one, don't it, of by-
gones P ' and she hung her head a one side, and looked sentimental.

188

FEMALE COLLEGES.

!!'

" ' Of by-gone larks,' siiid T.

"*Hu8h, Sam,' she said, 'don't talk bo loud, that's a dear
Roul. Oh, if anybody had come in just then, and caught ««.'

(" Us" thinks I to myself, " I thought you had no objection
to it, and only struggled enough for modestj'-like ; and I did
think you would !iave said, caught you")

" '- 1 would have been ruinated lor ever and ever, and amen,
and the college broke up, and my position in the literary, scien-
tific, and intellectual world scorched, withered, and blasted for
ever. Ain't my cheek all burning, Sam ? it feels as if it was all
a-Mie ;' and she put it near enough for me to see, and feel tempt-
ed beyond my strength. * Don't it look horrid inflamed, dear ?'
Ar.d she danced out of the room, as if she was skipping a rope.

" Well, well," sais I, when she took herself oft'. " What a
world this is ! This is evangelical learning ; girls are taught in
one room to faint or scream if they see a man, as if he was an
incarnation of sin ; and yet they are all educated and trained to
think the sole object of life is to win, not convert, but win one
of these sinners. In the next room propriety, dignity, and de-
corum, romp with a man in a way to make even his sallow face
blush. Teach a child there is harm in everything, however in-
nocent, and so soon as it discovers the cheat, it won't see no sin
in anything. That's the reason deacons' sons seldom turn out
well, and preachers' daughters are married through a window.
Innocence is the sweetest thing in the world, and there is more
of it than folks generally imagme. If you want some to trans-
plant, don't seek it in the enclosures of cant, for it has only coun-
terfeit ones, but go to the gardens of truth and of sense. Coerced
innocence is like an imprisoned lark, open the door and it's oft'
for ever. The bird that roams through the sky and the groves
unrestrained knows how to dodge the hawk and protect itself,
>ut the caged one, the moment it leaves its bars and bolts behind,
i.3 ':o»uiced upon by the fowler or the vulture.

Puritans, whether in or out of the church (for there is a
TN.-li0ie squ id of 'em in it, like rats in a house who eat up its bread
Mc i Tidfcfmine its waUs), make more sinners than they save by
a long chalk. They ain't content with real sin, the pattern ain't
sufficient for a cloak, so they sew on several breadths of artificial
oftiences, and that makes one big enough to wrap round them,
and cover their own deformity. It enlarges the margin, and the
book, and gives more texts.

" Their eyes are like the great magnifier at the Polytechnic,
that shows you many-headed, many-armed, many-footed, and
many-tailed awful monsters in a drop of water, which were never
intended for us to see, or Prondence would have made our eyes

FEMALE COLLEGES.

ISO

like Lord Rosse's telescope (which discloses tlie secrets of the
moon), and given us springs that had none of these canables in
'em. Water is our dnnk, and it was made for us to take when
we were dry, and be thankful. After I first saw one of these
drops, like an old cheese chock full of livin' things, I couldn't
drink nothing but pure gin or brandy for a week. I was scared
to death. I consaited when I went to bed I could audibly feel
these cri^ter8 fightin' like Turks and minin' my inerds, and I got
parvous lest my stomach like a citadel might be blowed up and
the works destroyed. It was frightful.

" At last I 3ot up and said, Sam, where is all your common
eense gone ? You used to have a considerable sized phial of it,
I hope you ain't lost the cork and let it all run out. So I put
myself in the witness-stand, and asked myself a few questions.

" ' Water was made to drink, wam't it ? '

"' That's a fact.'

•' * You can't see them critters in it with your naked eye ? '

" ' I tan't see them at all, neither naked or dressed.'

" * Then it wam't intended you should ? '

" ' Seems as if it wasn't,' sais I.

" ' Then drink, and don't be skeered.'

" * I'll be darned if I don't, for who knows them wee-mon-
strosities don't help digestion, or feed on human p/son. They
warn't put into Adam's ale for nothin', that's a fact.'

" It seems as if they wam't.' sais 1. * So now I'll go to
sleep.'

" Well, puritans' eyes are like them magnifiers ; they see
the devil in everything but themselves, where he is plaguy apt
to be found by ihem. that want him ; for he feels at home m
their company. One time « h^y vow he is a dancin' master, and
moves his feet so quick folka can't see they are cloven, another
time a music master, and teaches children to open their mouths
and not their nostrils in singing. Now he is a tailor or milliner,
and makes fashionable garments ; and then a manager of a theatre,
which is the most awful place in the world ; it is a reflex of life,
and the reflection is always worse than the original, as a man's
shadow is more dangerous than he is. But w^orst of all, they
solemnly affirm, for they don't swear, he comes sometimes iu
lawn sleeves, and looks like a bishop, which is popery, or in
the garb of high churchmen, who are all Jesuits. Is it any
wonder these cantin' fellows pervert the understanding, sap the
principles, corrupt the heart, and destroy the happiness of so
many ? Poor dear old Minister used to say, ' Sam, you must in-
struct your conscience, for an ignorant or superstitious conscience
is a snare to the unwary. If you think a thing is WTong that is not,

FEMALE COLLEGES.

and do it, then you sin, because ■'ou are doing -^hah you believe
in your heart to be wicked. It is the intention that constitutes
the crime.' Those sour crouts therefore, by err ating artificial and
imitation sin in such abuudance, make real s'ix of no sort of con-
sequence, and the world is so chock full of it, a fellow gets careless
at last and won't get out of its way, it's 30 much trouble to pick
his steps.

" Well, I was off in a brown study so deep about artificial
sins, I didn't hear Liddy come in, she shut the door so softly
and trod on tiptoes so light on the carpet. The first thing 1
knew was I felt her hands on my head, as she stood behind me,
a dividin' of my hair with her fingers.

"*Why, Sam,' said she, 'as I'm a livin' sinner if you ain't
got some white hairs in your head, and there is a little bald
patch here right on the crown. How strange it is ! It only
seems like yesterday you was a curly-headed boy.'

" ' Yes,' sais I, and I hove a sigh so loud it made the window
jar ; * but I have seen a great deal of trouble since then. I lost
two wives in Europe.'

" ' Now do tell,' said she. * Why you don't ! — oh, jimminy
criminy ! two wives ! How was it, poor Sam ? ' and she kissed
the bald spot on my pate, and took a rockin'-chair and sat op-
posite to me, and began rockin' backwards and forwards like a
fellow sawin' wood. * How was it, Sam, dear ? '

" ' Why,' sais I, * first and foremost, Liddy, I married a fa-
shionable lady to London. AVell, bein' out night arter night at
balls and operas, and what not, she got kinder used up and beat
out, and unbeknownst to me used to take opium. Well, one
night she took too much, and in the morning she was as dead
as a herring.'

" ' Did she make a pretty corpse ? ' said Lid, lookin' very
sanctimonious. ' Did she lay out handsum ? 5'hey say prussic
acid makes lovely corpses; it keeps the eyes from fallin' in.
Next to dyin' happy, the greatest thing is to die pretty. Ugly
corpses frighten sinners, but elegant ones win them.'

" * The most lovely subject you ever beheld,' said I. * She
looked as if she was only asleep ; she didn't stiffen at all, but
was as limber as ever you see. Her hair fell over her neck and
shoulders in beautiful curls just like youm ; and she had on her
fingers the splendid diamond rings I gave her ; she was too fa-
tigued to take 'em off when she retired the night afore. I felt
proud of her even in death, I do assure you. She was handsome
enough to eat. I went to ambassador's to consult him about
the funeral, whether it should be a state affair, with all tho
whole diplomatic corps of the court to attend it, or a private

FEMALE COLLEGES.

101

She
but
land
her
fa-
felt
lome

)OUt

tho
rate

one. But he advised a private one ; he said it best comported
with our dignified simphcity as republicans, and, although cost
was no object, still it was satisfactory to know it was far less
expense. When I came back she was gone.'

" * Gone ! ' said Liddy, * gone where r '

" * Gone to the devil, dear, I suppose.'

" * Oh my ! * said she. * AVell, I never in all my bom days !
Oh, Sam, is that the way to talk of the dead ! '

" * In the dusk of the evening,' sais I, ' a carriage, they said,
drove to the door, and a coffin was carried up-stairs ; but the
undertaker said it wouldn't fit, and it was taken back again for
a larger one. Just afore I went to bed, I went to the room to
have another look at her, and she was gone, and tliere was a
letter on the table for me ; it contained a few words only. — ' Dear
Sam, my first husband is come to life, and so have I. Good-
bye, l0V9.' '

« ' Well, what did you do ? '

" * Gave it out,' said I, ' she died of the cholera, and had to
be buried quick and private, and no one never knew to the con-
trary.'

" * Didn't it almost break your heart, Sammy ? '

" ' No,' sais I. 'In her hurry, she took my dressing-case in-
stead of her own, in which was all her own jewels, besides those
I gave her, and all our ready money. So I tried to resign my-
self to my loss, for ifc might havf been worse, you know,' and I
looked as good as pie.

" ' Well, if that don't beat all, I declare ! ' said she.

" * Liddy,' sais I, with a mock solemeoly air, ' every bane has
its antidote, and every misfortin its peculiar consolation.'

" ' Oh, Sam, that showed the want of a high moral intellect-
ual education, didn't it ? ' said she. ' And yet you had tb« cour-
age to marry again ? '

" ' WeU, I married,' sais I, ' next year in France a lady who
had refused one of Louis Philip's sons. Oh, what a splendid
gall she was, Liddy ! she was the star of Paris. Poor thing ! I
lost her in six weeks.'

" ' Six weeks ! Oh, Solomon ! ' said she, * in six weeks.'

" * Yes,' saib I, * in six short weeks.'

" * How was it, Sam ? do tell me all about it , it's quite i -
mantic. I vow. it's like the Arabian Nights' Entertainment.
You are so unlucky, I swow I shovL d be skeered — '

" • At what ? ' sais I.

" ♦ Why, at—'

" She was caught there ; she was a goin' to say, ' at mar-
ryin' you,' but as she was a leadin' of me on, that woulfln't do.

102

FEMALE COLLEGES.

Doctor, you may catch a gall sometimes, but if she has a mind
to^ she can escape if she chooses, for they are as slippery as
eels. So she pretended to hesitate on, till I asked her again.

" * Why,' sais she, a looking down, * at sleeping alone to-
night, after hearing of these dreadful catastrophes.'

"•Oh,' sais I, 'is that all P'

" ' But how did you lose her ? ' said she.

" ' Why, she raced off,' said I, * with the Turkish ambas-
sador, and if I had a got hold of him, I'de a lammed him TiTisa
than the devil beatin' tan-bark, I know. I'de a had his melt, if
there was a bowie-knife out of Kentucky.'

" * Did you go after her ? '

" * Yes ; but she cotched it afore I cotched her.'

" ' How was that, Sam ? '

" * Why, she wanted to sarve him the same way, with an of-
ficer of the Russian Guards, and Mahomet caught her, sewed
her up in a sack, and throwed her neck and crop into the Bos-
phorus, to fatten eels for the Greek ladies to keep Lent with.'

" * Why, how could you be so unfortunate ? ' sai.l she.

" * That's a question I have often axed myself, Liddy,' sais
I ; * but I have come to this conclusion : London and Pans ain't
no place for galls to be trained in.'

" ' So I have always said, and always will maintain to my
dying day,' she said, rising with great animation and pride.
' What do they teach there but music, dancing, and drawing ?
The deuce a thing else ; but here is Spanish, French, German,
Italian, botany, geology, mineralogy, icthiology, conchology,
theology — '

" * Do you teach angeolology and doxyology ? ' sais I.

" * Yes, angeolology and doxyology,' she said, not knowing
what she was a talking about.

" * And occult sciences ? ' sais I.

" ' Yes, all the sciences. London and Paris, eh ! Ask a lady
from either place if she knows the electric battery from the
magnetic — '

" ' Or a needle from a pole,'' sais I.

" ' Yes,' sais she, without listening, * or any such question,
and see if she can answer it."

" She resumed her seat.

" * Forgive my enthusiasm,' she said, ' Sam, you know I al-
ways had a great deal of that.'

" * I know,' said I, * you had the smallest foot and ankle of
anybody in our country. My ! what fine-spun glass heels you
had ! Where in the world have you stowed them to ? ' pretendin*
to look down for them.

FEMALE COLLEGES.

103

lady
the

I ai-
de of

" ' Kept them to kick you with,' she said, * if you are sassy.*

" Thinks I to myself, what next ? as the woman said to the
man who kissed her in the tunnel, you are cominji; out, Liddv.

'* * Kick,' said I, * oh, you wouldn't try that, I am sure, let
me do what I would.'

"'Why not?' said she.

" * Why,' sais I, * if you did you would have to kick so high,
you would expose one of the larger limbs.'

" ' Mr Slick,' said she, ' I trust you will not so far forget
what is due to a lady, as to talk of showing her larger limbs,
it's not decent.'

" ' Well, I know it ain't decent,' said I, * but you said you
would do it, and I just remonstrated a little, that's all.'

" ' You was saying about London and Paris,' said she, ' being
no place for educating young ladies in.'

"'Yes,' sais I, 'that painful story of my two poor dear
wives (which is 'all in my eye,' as plain as it was then), illus-
trates my theory of education in those two capitals. In Loudon,
females, who are a great deal in society in the season, like a man
who drinks, can't stop, they are at it all the time, and like him,
sometimes forget the way home again. In Paris, galls are kept
so much at home before marriage, when they once get out, they
don't want to enter the cage again. They are the two extremes.
If ever I marry, I'll tell you how I will lay down the law.
Pleasure shall be the recreation and not the business of life
with her. Home the rule — parties the exception. Duty first,
amusement second. Her head-quarters shall always be in her
own house, but the outposts will never be neglected.'

" ' Nothin' like an American woman for an American man,
is there ? ' said she, and she drew nearer, lookin' up in my face
to read the answer, and didn't rock so hard.

" ' It depends upon how they are brought up,' said I, looking
wise. 'But, Liddy,' sais I, 'without joking, what an amazin' small
foot that is of yours. It always was, and wunst when it slipt
through a branch of the cherry-tree, do you recollect my saying.
Well I vow that calf was suckled by two cows ? now don't you,
LiJdy?'

" ' No, Sir,' said she, * I don't, though children may say many
things that when they grow up they are ashamed to repeat ; but
I recollect now, wimst when you and I went through the long
grass to the cherry-tree, your mother said, ' Liddy, beware you
are not bit by a garter-snake, and I never knew her meaniu' till
now ;' and she rose up and said, ' Mr Slick, I must bid you good
morning.'

"'Liddy,' sais I, 'don't be so pesky starch, I'U be dod

191

FEMALE COLLEGES.

]! I

ii^

fetched if I meant any harm, but you beat me all holler. I
only spoke of the calf, and you went a streak higher and talked
of the garter.'

" ' Sam,' said she, * you was always the most impedent, for-
redest, and pertest boy th»*t ever was, and travellin' hain't im-
proved you one mite or morsel.*

" * I am sorry I have offended you, Liddy,' sais I, *but really
now, how do you manage to teach all them things with hard
names, for we never even heard of them at Slickville ? Have you
any mastera ? '

" ' Masters,' said she, * the first one that entered this college
would ruin it for ever. What, a man in this college ! where the
juvenile pupils belong to the iSrst families — I guess not. I hire
a young lady to teach rudiments.'

" ' So I should think,' sais I, * from the specimen I saw at
your door, she was rude enough in all conscience.'

" * Pooh,' said she, ' well, I have a Swiss lady that leaches
French, German, Spanish, and Italian, and an English one that
instructs in music and drawing, and I teach history, geography,
botany, and the sciences, and so on.'

"'How on earth did you learn them all?' said I, 'for it
puzzles me.'

" ' Between you and me, Sam,' said she, * for you know my
broughtens up, and it's no use to pretend — ^primary books does
it all, there is question and answer. I read the question, and
they learn the answer. It's the easiest thing in the world to
teach now-a-days.'

" * But suppose you get beyond the rudiments ? '

" ' Oh, they never remain long enough to do that. They are
brought out before then. They go to Saratoga first in summer,
and then to Washington in winter, and are married right off
after that. The domestic, seclasive, and exclusive system, is
found most conducive to a high state of refinement and deli-
cacy. I am doing well, Sam,' said she, drawing nearer, and
looking confidential in my face. * I own all this college, and all
the lands about, and have laid up forty thousand dollars be-
sides;' and she nodded her head at me, and looked earnest, as
much as to say, ' That is a fact, ain't it grand ? '

" ' The devil you have,' said I, as if I had taken the bait.
I had a proposal to make.'

" ' Oh,' said she, and she coloured up all over, and got up
and said, * Sam, won't you have a glass of wine, dear ? ' She in-
tended it to give me courage to speak out, and she went to a
closet, and brought out a tray with a decanter, and two or
three glasses on it, and some frosted plum-cake. * Try that

FEMALE COLLEGES.

195

B bait.

got up
She in-
nt to a
two or
ry that

ealte, dear,' she said, *I made it myself, and your dear old
mother taught me how to do it;' anil then she laid back her
head, and larfcd like anything. *Sam,' said she, 'what a me-
mory you have ; I had forgot all about the cherry-tree, I don't
recollect a word of it.*

"'And the calf?" said T.

" ' Get along,' said she, ' do get out ;' and she took up some
crumbs of the cake, and made 'em into a ball as big as a cherry,
and fired it at me, and struck me in the eye with it, and nearly
put it out. She jumped up in a mi ait : ' Did she hurt her own
poor cossy's eye ? ' she said!, ' and put it een amost out,' and she
kissed it. ' It didn't hurt his little peeper much, did it ? '

" Hullo, sais I to myself, she's coming it too pceowerful
strong altogether. The sooner I dig out the better for my
wholesomes. Howeyer, let her went, she is wrathy. * I came to
propose to you — *

" * Dear me,' said she, * I feel dreadful, I wam't prepared for
this ; it's very onexpected. What is it, Sam ? I am all oyer of
a twiteration.'

" * I know you will refuse me,' sais I, * when I look round
and see how comfortable and how happy you are, eyen if you
ain't engaged.'

" ' Sam, I told you I weren't engaged,' she said : ' that story
of General Smith is all a fabrication, therefore don't mention
that again.'

"'I feel,' said I, 'it's no use. I know what you will say,
you can't quit.'

" ' Tou have a strange way,' said she, rather tart, * for you
ask questions, and then answer them yourself. What do you
mean?'

" ' Well,' sais I, ' I'll teU you, Liddy.'

" ' Do, dear,' said she, and she put her hand over her eyes^
as if to stop her from hearing distinctly. * I came to propose to
you—'

" ' Oh, Sam,' said she, * to think of that !'

" ' To take a seat in my buggy,' sais I, * and come and spend
a month with sister Sally and me, at the old location.'

" Poor thing, I pitied her ; she had one knee over the other,
and, as I said, one nand over her eyes, and there she sot, and
the way the upper foot went bobbin' up and down was like the
palsy, only a little quicker. She never said another word, nor
sighed, nor groaned, nor anything, only her head hung lower.
Well, I felt streaked. Doctor, I tell you. I felt like a man who
had stabbed another, and knew he ought to be hanged for it ;
and I looked at her as such a critter would, if he had to look

' i I

IDG

FEMALE COLLEGES.

on, and see tils enemy bleed to death. I knew I had done
wrong — I had acted spider-like to her — got her into the web —
tied her hand and foot, and tantalized her. I am given to brag,
I know, Doctor, when I am in the saddle, and up in tlie stirrups,
and leavin' all others behind ; but when a beast is choaked and
down in the dirt, no man ever heard me brag I had rode the
critter to death.

" No, I did wrong, she was a woman, and I was a man, and
if she did act a part, why, I ought to have- known the game she
had to play, ana made allowances for it. I dropt the trump
card under the table that time, and though I got the odd trick,
she had the honours. It wam't manly in me, that's a fact ;
but confound her, why the plague did she call me * Mr,' and act
formal, and give me the bag to hold, when she knew me of old,
and minded the cherry-tree, and all that ? Still she was a woman,
and a defenceless one too, and I did'nt do the pretty. But if
she was a woman, doctor, she had more clear grit than most men
have. After a while she took her hand off her eyes and rubbed
them, and she opened her mouth and yawned so, you could see
down to her garters amost.

" * Dear me!' said she, trying to smile; but, oh me! how
she looked ! Her eyes had no more expression than a China-
aster, and her face was so deadly pale, it made the rouge she
had put on look like the hectic of a dying consumption. Her
ugly was out in full bloom, I tell you. ' Dear cousin Sam,' said
she, * I am so fatigued with my labours as presidentess of this
institution, that 1 can hardly keep my peepers open. I think,
if I recollect — for I am ashamed to say I was a noddin' — that
you proposed (that word lit her eyes up) that I should go with
you to visit dear Sally. Oh, Sam ! ' said she (how she bit in
her temper that hitch, didn't she ?) * you see, and you saw it at
first, I can't leave on so short a notice ; but if my sweet Sally
would come and visit me, how delighted I should be ! Sam, I
must join my class now. How happy it has made me to see
you again after so many years ! Kiss me, dear ; good bye — God
bless you ! ' and she yawned again till she nearly dislocated her
jaw. * Go on and write books, Sam, for no man is better skilled
in human natur and spares it less than yourself.' What a re-
proachful look she gave me then! * Good bye, dear!'

" Well, when I closed the door, and was opening of the outer
one, I heard a crash. I paused a moment, for I knew what it
was. She had fainted and fell into a conniption fit.

" * Sam,' sais I to myself, * shall I go back ? '

" * No,' sais I, * if you return there will be a scene ; and if you
don't, if she can't account naterally for it, the devil can't, that's all.'

I [

FEMALE COLLEGES.

107

" Doctor, I felt guilty, I tell you. I had taken a great many
rises out of folks in my time, but that's the only one I repent
of. Tell you what, Doctor, folks mcy talk about their southern
gentlemen, their New York prince-merchants, and so on, but
the clear grit, bottom and game, is New England (Yankee-
doodle-dum). Male or fenule, young or old, I'll back 'em
agin all creation."

Squire, show this chapter to Lord Taudembery, if you know
him ; and if you don't. Uncle Tom Lavender will give you a
letter of introduction to him ; and then ask him if ever he has
suffered half so much as Sam Slick has in the cause of edication.

CHAPTER XV.

she

outer
lat it

f you
'saU.'

0IFSETI170.

"We tried the deck again, but the fog was too disagreeable
to remain there, for the water fell from the ropes in such large
drops, and the planks were so wet and slippery, we soon ad-
journed again to the cabin.

" I have to thank you, Doctor," said I, " for a most charm-
ing day at the Beaver-Dam. That was indeed a day in the
woods, and I believe every one there knew how to enjoy it.
How different it is from people in a town here, who go out to
the country for a pic-nic! A citizen thinks the pleasure of
gipseying, as they call it in England, consists solely in the
abundance and variety of the viands, the quality and quantity of
the wines, and as near an approach to a city dinner as it is
possible to have, where there are neither tables, chairs, side-
boards, nor removes. He selects his place for the encampment
in the first opening adjoining the clearing, as it commands a
noble view of the harbour, and there is grass enough to recline
upon. The woods are gloomy, the footing is slippery, and there
is nothing to be seen in a forest but trees, windfalls which are
difficult to climb, and boggy ground that wets your feet, and
makes you feel uncomfortable. The limbs are eternally knock-
ing your hat off, and the spruce gum ruins your clothes, while
ladies, like sheep, are for ever leaving fragments of their dress
on every bush. He chooses the skirts of the forest therefore,
the background is a glorious wood, and the foreground is diver-
sified by the shipping. The o-heave-o of the sailors, as it rises
and fulis in the distance, is music to bis ears, and suggestive of

108

G1P8EYING.

agreeable reflections, or profitable converBation pcculinrly ap-
propriate to the place and the occanion. The price of llHh m
the "West Indies, or of deals in Liverpool, or the probobh; rise
of flour in the market, ainwso the vacant mind of himself and
his partner, not his wife, for she is only his theping partner, but
the wide-awake partner of the firm, one of those who are em-
braced in the comprehensive term the • Co.' lie is the deposi-
tory of his secrets, the other of his complaints.

" His wife is equally happy, she enjoys it inicommonly, for
she knows it will spite those horrid Mudges. She is determined
not to invite them, for they make too much noise, it gives her
the headache, and their flirting is too bad. ^Irs White called
them garrison hacks. And besides (for women always put the
real reason last — they live in a postscript) they don't deserve it,
for they left her girls out when they had the lobster-spearing
party by torch-lignt, with the officers of the flag-ship, though
that was no loss, for by all accounts it was a very romping

Earty, knocking off" the men's hats, and then exchanging their
onnets for them. And how any mother could allow her daugh-
ter to be held round the waist by the flag-lieutenant, while she
leaned over the boat to spear the fish, is a mystery to her. The
polka is bad enough, but, to her mind, that is not decent, and
then she has something to whisper about it, that she savs is too
bad (this is a secret though, and she must whisper it, tor walls
have ears, and who knows but trees have, and besides, the good
things are never repeated, but the too had always is), and Mrs
Black lifts up both her hands, and the whites of both eyes in
perfect horror.

" * Now did you ever ! Oh, is that true ? Why, you don't ! '

" ' Lucy Green saw him with her own eyes,' and she opens
her own as big as saucers.

" ' And what did Miss Mud^e say ? '

" * Well, upon my word,' said she, * I wonder what you will
do next,' and laughed so they nearly fell overboard.

" * Oh, what carryings on, ain't it, dear ? But I wonder
where Sarah Matilda is ? I don't see her and Captain De la
Cour. 1 am afraid she will get lost in the woods, and that
would make people talk as they did about Miss Mudge and
Doctor Vincent, who couldn't find their way out once till nine
o'clock at night.'

" ' They'll soon get back, dear,* sais the other, * let them be;
it looks like watching them, and you know,' laying an emphasis
on you, * you and I were young once ourselves, and so they will
come back when they want to, for though tlie woods have no
straight paths in them, they have short cuts enough for them

OirSEYIXfJ,

100

will

that*s in a hurry. Cupid hnn no watch, dpar; his /oh is for a
purte,* and iiho smiles wiokod on the njother of the heiress.

" Well, then, who ean say this is not a pleasant diiy to hoth
parties ? The old gentlemen have their nioe snuj^ businesaohat,
and the old ladies havc their nice snug gossip ehat, and the third
estate (a« the head of the firm calls it, who was lately elected
member for Grumble Town, and begins to talk parliamentary),
the third estate, the young folks, the people of progression, who
are not behind but rather ahead of the age they live in. don't
they enjoy themselves? It is very hard if youth, beauty, health,
good spirits, and a desire to please (because if people havn't
that they had better stay to home), can't or won't make people
happy. I don't mean lor to go for to say that will insure it,
because nothin' is certain, and I have known many a gall that
resembled a bottle of beautiful wine, lou will find one some-
times as enticin' to appearance as ever was, but hold it up and
there is grounds there for all that, settled, but still there, and
enough too to spile all, so you can't put it to your lips any how
you can fix it. What a pity it is sweet things turn sour, ain't it ?

" But in a general way these things will make folks happy.
There are some sword-knots there, and they do look very like
woodsmen, that's a fact. If you never saw a forrester, you would
Bwear to them as perfect. A wide-awake hat, with a little short
pipe stuck in it, a pair of whiskers that will be grand when
they are a few years older — a coarse check or red flannel shirt,
a loose neck-handkerchief, tied with a sailor's knot — a cut-away
jacket, with lots of pockets — a belt, but little or no waistcoat —
nomespun trowsers and thick buskins — a rough glove and a
delicate white hand, the real, easy, and natural gait of the wood-
man (only it's apt to be a little, just a little too stifl", on account
of the ramrod they have to keep in their throats while on par-
ade), when combined, actilly beat natur,for they are too nateral.
Oh, these amateur woodsmen enact their part so well, you think
you almost see the identical thing itself. And then they have
had the advantage of "Woolwich or Sandhurst, or Chobham, and
are dabs at a bivouac, grand hands with an axe — cut a hop-pole
down in half a day amost, and in the other half stick it into the

f round. I don't make no doubt in three or four days they could
uild a wigwam to sleep in, and one night out of four under
cover is a great deal for an amateur hunter, though it ain't the
smallest part of a circumstance to the Crimea. As it is, if a
stick ain't too big for a fire, sav not larger than your finger, they
can break it over their knee, sooner than you could cut it with
a hatchet for your life, and see how soon it's in a blaze. Take
them altogether, they are a killing party of coons them, never

1 1

200

OirSEYINO.

i '

miM a moose if they shoot out of an Indian's gun, and use a silrer
bullet.

" Well, then, the young ladies ore equip()ea so nicely — they
have uglies to their bonnets, the only thing ugly about them,
for at a distance they look like huge green spectacles. They
are very useful in the forest, for there is a great glare of the
sun generally under trees : or else they have green bonnets, that
look like eagle's skins ; thin dresses, strong ones are too heavy,
and they don't display the beauty of nature enough, they are so
high, and the whole oDJectof the party is to admire that. Their
walking shoes are light and thin, they don't fatigue you like
coarse ones, and India-rubbers are hideous, they make your
feet look as if thev had the gout ; and they have such pretty,
dear little aprons, now rural it looks altogetner — they act a day
in the woods to admiration. Three of the officers nave nick-
names, a very nice thing to induce good fellowship, especially
as it has no tendency whatever to promote quarrels. There is
Lauder, of the Bijles, he is so short, they call him Pistol; he has
a year to grow yet, and may become a great ffun some of these
days. Bussel takes a joke good-humouredly, and therefore is
BO fortunate as to get more than his share of them, accordingly
he goes by the name of Target, as every one takes a shot at him.
Duke is so bad a shot, he has twice nearly linked the marks-
man, so he is called Trigger. He always lays the blame of his
want of skill on that ui^ortunate appendage of the gun, as it is
either too hard or too quick on the finger. Then there is young
Bulger, and as everybody pronounces it as if it had two * g's '
in it, he corrects them and says, ' g ' soft, my dear fellow, if you
please ; so he goes by the name of ' G ' soft. Oh, the convers-
ation of the third estate is so pretty, I could listen to it for ever.

" ' Aunt,' sais Miss Diantha, * do you know what gyp — gypsy
— gypsymum — gypsymuming is ? Did you ever hear now I stut-
ter tu-day ? I can't get a word out hardly. Ain't it provoking ? '
Well, stammering is provoking; out a pretty little acci-
dental impediment of speech like that, accompanied with a little
graceful bob of the head, is very taking, ain't it ?

" ' Gypsuming,' sais the wise matron, * is the plaster of Paris
trade, dear. They carry it on at Windsor, your father says.'

" Pistol gives Target a wink, for they are honouring the party
by their company, though the mother of one keeps a lodging-
house at Bath, and the father of the other makes real genuine
East India curry in London. They look down on the whole of
the townspeople. It is natural ; pot always calls kettle an ugly
name.

" * No, Ma,' sais Di — all the girls address her as Di ; ain't

OirSEYINO.

201

it a prt'tty abbreviation for a (Vu'-away younp; lady ? But sbr it
not a (lit-away lass; she ih more of a Di VtTnon. *2so, Ma,'
■ais Di, ' K'pHey — inp, wbat a hard word it is ! 3
it's what they call these iMiiies in England. It
gipsy litV •

Mr liuhM'l savs
is so like tito

ii » Tl

There is one point,' sais Pistol, ' in which they ditFer.'

"'AVhat'sthatP' sais Di.

" * Do you give it up ? '

"'Yes.'

" * There the gipsy girls steal poultry ; and here they steal
hearts,' and he puts bis left hand oy mistake on his breast, not
knowing that the pulsation there indicates that his lungs, and
not his gizzard is afiected, and that he is hroken-winded, and
not hrokvn-hearted.

"'Very good,' every one sais; but still every one hasn't
heard it, so it has to be repeated ; and what is worse, as the
habits of the gipsies are not known to all, the point has to be
explained.

" Target sais, ' He will send it to the paper, and put Trig-
ger's name to it,* and Pistol says, * That is capital, for if he calls
you out, he can't hit you,' and there is a joyous laugh. Oh
dear, but a day in the woods is a pleasant thing. For my own
part, I must say I quite agree with the hosier, who, when he
first went to New Orleens, and saw such a swad of people there,
said, he ' didn't onderstand how on earth it was that folks liked
to live in a heap that way, altogether, where there was no com
to plant, and no bears to kill.'

'"My, oh my!' sais Miss Letitia, or Letkissyou, as Pistol
used to call her. People ought to be careful what names they
give their children, so as folks can't fasten nicknames on 'em.
Before others the girls called her Letty, and that's well enough ;
but sometimes they would call her Let, which is the devil. If
a man can't give a pretty fortune to his child, he can give it a
pretty name at any rate.

" There waa a very large family of Cards wunst to Slickville.
They were mostly in the stage-coach and livery-stable lino, and
careless, reckless sort of people. So one day, Squire Zenas Card
had a christenin' at his house.

" Sais the Minister, ' what shall I call the child ? *

" ' Pontius Pilate,' said he.

" * I can't,' said the Minister, ' and I won't. No soul ever
heerd of such a name for a Christian since baptism came in
fashion.'

" ' I am sorry for that,' said the )Squire. * for it's a mighty
pretty name. 1 heard it once in churcli uud I thought if ever

202

GIPSEYING.

I had a son I'de call him after him ; but if I can't have that—
and it's a dreadful pity — call him Trump ; ' and he was clirist-
eneued Trump Card.

" ' Oh m\ !' sais Miss Letitia, lispin', ' Captain De la Cour
has smashed my bonnet, see, he is setting upon it. Did you
ever ? '

" ' Never,' said Di, * he has converted your cottage bonnet
into a country seat, I do declare!'

" Evervbody exclaimed, ' That is excellent,' and Kussei said,
* Capital, by Jove.'

" ' That kind of thing,' said De la Cour, ' is more honoured
in the breach than the observance ; ' and winked to Target.

"Miss Di is an inveterate punster, so she returns to tlie charge.

" '• Letty, what fish is that, the name of which would express
all you said about your bonnet ? — do you give it up ? A bon-
net-o,' (Boneto).

*' ' Well, I can't fathom that,' sais De la Cour.

" * I don't wonder at thct,' sais the invincible Di ; 'it is be-
yond your depth, for it is an ont-of-soundinffs fish.'

" Poor De la Cour, you had better let her alone, she is too
many guns for you. Scratch your head, for your curls and your
name are all that you have to be proud of. Let her alone, she
is wicked, and she is meditating a name for you and Pistol that
will stick to you as long as you live, she has it on the tip of
her tongue — 'The babes in the wood.'

" Now for the basket? — now for the spread. The old gen-
tlemen break up their Lloyds' meeting — the old ladies break
up their scandal club — the young ladies and their beaux are
bi.gy in arrangements, and though the cork-screws are no-
where to be founi. Pistol has Irs in one of the many pockets
of his woodsman's coat, he never goes without it (like one of
his mother's waiters), which he calls his young man's best com-
panion ; and which another, who was a year in an attorney's
office, while waiting for his commission, calls the crown circuit
assistant ; and a third, who has just arrived in a steamer, desig-
nates as the screw propeller. It was a sensible provision, and
Miss Di said, * a corkscrew and a pocket-pistol were better suited
to him than a rifle,' and every one said it was a capital joke that
— for everybody likes a shot that don't hit themselves.

" ' How tough tlie goose is I' sais G soft. ' I can't carve it.'

" ' Ah ! ' sais ui, ' when Greek meets Greek, then comes the
tug of w^ar.'

" Eating and talking lasts a good while, but they don't last
for ever. The ladies leave the gentlemen to commence their
smoking and finish their drinking, and presently there is a loud

GIPSEYING.

203

laugh ; it's more than a laugh, it's a roar; and the ladies turn
round and wonder.

" Letty saia, * Wlien the wine is in, the wit is out.'

" ' True,' sais Di, ' the wine is there, but when you left them
the wit went out.'

" ' Rather severe,' said Letty.

" ' Not at all,' sais Di, * for I was with you.'

" It is the last shot of poor Di. Slie won't take the trouble
to talk well for ladies, and those horrid Mudges have a party
on purpose to take away all the pleasant men. She never ])a88ed
so stupid a day. She hates pic-nies, and will never go to one
again. De la Cour is a fool, and is as full of airs as a niglit-
hawk is of feathers. Pistol is a bore ; Target is botli poor and
stingy ; Trigger thinks more of himself than anybody else ; and
as for Or soft, he is a goose. She will never speak to Pippen
again for not coming. They are a poor set of devils in the gar-
rison ; she is glad they are to have a new regiment.

"Letty hasn't enjoyed herself either, she has been de-
voured by black flies and musquitoes, and has got her feet wet,
and is so tired she can't go to the ball. The sleeping partner of
the head of the firm is out of sorts, too. Her crony-gossip gav o
her a sly poke early in the day, to show her she recollected when
she was young (not that she is so old now either, for she knows
the grave gentleman who visits at her house is said to like
the mother better than the daughter), but before she was mar-
ried, and friends who have such wonderful memories are not
very pleasant companions, though it don't do to have them for
enemies. But then, poor thing, and she consoles herself with
the idea the poor thing has daughters herself, and they are as
ugly as sin, and not half so agreeable. But it isn't that alto-
gether. Sarah Matilda should not have gone wandering out of
hearing with the captain, and she must give her a piece of her
mind about it, for there is a good deal of truth in the old say-
ing, * If the girls won't run after the men, the men will run after
them ; ' so she calls out loudly, ' Sarah Matilda, my love, come
here, dear,' and Sarah Matilda knows when the honey is pio-
duced, physic is to be taken ; but she knows she is under observ-
ation, and so she flies to her dear mamma, with the feet and face
of an angel, and they gradually withdraw.

" ' Dear ma, how tired you look.'

" ' I am not tired, dear.'

"'Well, you don't look well; is anything the matter with
you?'

" * I didn't say I wasn't well, and it's very rude to remark
on one's looks that way.'

i* !

• H

201<

GIPSEYING.

I I

" ' Something seems to have put you out of sorts, ma, I will
run and call pa. Deai* me, I feel frightened. Shall I ask Mrs
Bawdon for her salts ? '

" * You know very well what's the matter ; it's. Captain De
la Cour.'

" ' AVell, now, how strange,' said Sarah Matilda. * I told him
he had better go and walk with you ; I wanted him to do it ;
I told him you liked attention. Yes, I knew you would be an-
gry, but it isn't my fault. It ain't, indeed.'

" ' Well, I am astonished,' replies the horrified mother. ' I
never in all my life. So you told him I liked attention. I, your
mother, your father's wife, with my position in societee; and
pray what an8>srer did he make to this strange conduct ? '

" * He said, No wonder, you were the handsomest woman in
town, and so agreeable ; the only one fit to talk to.'

" ' And you have the face to admit you listened to such stuff? *

" ' I could listen all day to it, ma, f^^^ I knew it was true. I
never saw you look so lovely, the new bishop has improved your
appearance amazingly .'

" * Who ? ' said the mother, with an hysterical scream ; * what
do you mean ? '

" ' The new bustler, ma.'

" * Oh,' said she, quite relieved, ' oh, do you think so ? '

" * But what did you want of me, ma ? '

" * To fasten my gown, dear, there is a nook come undone.'

" ' Coming,' she said, in a loud voice.

" There was nobody calling, but somebody ought to have call-
ed; so she fastens the hook, and files back as fast as she
came.

" Sarah Matilda, you were not bom yesterday ; first you put
your mother on the defensive, and then you stroked her down
with the grain, and made her leel good all over, while you es-
caped from a scolding you know you deserved. A jealous mother
makes an artful daughter. But, Sarah Matilda, one word in your
ear. Art ain't cleverness, and cunning ain't understanding.
Semblance only answers once ; the second time the door ain't
opened to it.

" Henrietta is all ".drift, too ; she is an old maid, and Di nick-
named her ' the old hen.' She has been shamefully neglected to-
day. The young men have been flirting about with those for-
ward young girls — children — mere children, and have not had
the civility to exchange a wora with her. The old ladies have
been whispering gossip all day, and the old gentlemen busy talk-
ing about freights, the Fall-catch of mackarel, and ship-building.
JS'or could their talk have been solely confined to these subjects,

GirSEYING.

2()'>

to-
br-
lad
ave
ilk-

ng-

for once when she approached them, alie heard the head of tlie
finn sav :

•* * "the * lovely lasa ' must be thrown down and scraped, for
she is so foul, and her knees are all gone.'

" And so she turned away in disgust. Catch her at a pic-nie
again! No, never ! It appears the world is chanijjcd ; g'Vls in
her day were never allowed to romp that way, and men used to
have some manners. Things have come to a pretty pass !

" ' Alida, is that you. dear ? You look dull.'

" * Oh, Henrietta ! I have torn my beautiful thread-lace man-
tilla all to rags ; it's ruined for ever. And do you know — oh, /
don't know how I shall ever dare to face ma again ! I have lost
her beautiful little enamelled watch. Some of these horrid
branches have pulled it off the chain.' And Alida cries and is
consoled by Henrietta, who is a good-natured creature after all.
She tells her for her comfort that nobody should ever think of
■wearing a delicate and expensive lace mantilla in the woods ; she
could not expect anything else than to have it destroyed ; and
as for exposing a beautiful gold watch outside of her dress, no-
body in her senses would have thought of such a thing. Of course
she was greatly comforted : kind words and a kind manner will
console any one.

" It is time now to ro-assemble, and the party are gathered
once more ; and the ladies have found their smiles again, and
Alida has found her watch ; and there are to be some toasts and
some songs before parting. All is jollity once more, anrl the head
of the firm and his vigilant partner and the oflficers have all a
drop in their eye, and Henrietta is addressed by the junior part-
ner, who is a bachelor of about her ovni age, and who assures
her he never saw her look better ; and she looks delighted, and
is delighted, and thinks a pic-nic not so bad a thing after all.

" But there is a retributive justice in this world. Even pic-nic
parties havo their moral, and folly itself affords an example from
which a wise saw may be extracted. Captain de Courlay addresses
her, and after all, he has the manners and appearance of a gentle-
man, though it is whispered he is fond of practical jokes, pulls
* colt ensigns ' out of bed, makes them go through their sword
exercise standing shirtless in their tubs, and so on. There is one
redeeming thing in the story, if it be true, he never was known
to do it to a young nobleman ; he is too well bred for that. He
talks to her of society as it was before good-breeding was re-
formed out of the colonies. She is delighted ; but, oh ! was it
stupidity, or was it insolence, or was it cruelty ? he asked her if
she recollected the Duke of Kent. To be sure it is only fifty-
two years since he was here ; but to have recollected him ! How

i '

200

OIPSEYING.

old did he suppose she was ? She bears it well and meekly. It
is not the first time she has been painfully reminded she was not
young. She says her grandmother often spoke of him as a good
oflBcer and a handsome man ; and she laugns, though her heart
aches the while, as if it was a good joke to ask her. He backs
out as soon as he can. He meant well, though he had expressed
himself awkwardly ; but to back out slows you are in the wrong
stall, a place you have no business in, and being out, he thinks
it as well to jog on to another place.

" Ah, Henrietta ! you were unkind to Alida about her lace
mantilla and her gold watch, and it has come home to you. You
ain't made of glass, and nothing else will hold viutgar longwith-
oiit being corroded itself.

" Well, tlie toasts are drunk, and the men are not far from
being drunk too, and feats of agility are proposed, and they jump
up and catch a springing bow, and turn a somerset on it, or over
it, and they are cheered and applauded when De Courlay pauses
in mid-air for a moment, as if uncertain what to do. Has the
bough given way, or was that the sound of cloth rent in twain?
Something has gone wrong, for he is greeted with uproarious
cheers by the men, and he drops on his feet, and retires from the
company as from the presence of royalty, by backing out and
bowmg as he goes, repeatedly stumbling, and once or twice fall-
ing in his retrograde motion.

" Ladies never lose their tact — they ask no questions because
they see something is amiss, and though it is hard to subdue
curiosity, propriety sometimes restrains it. They join in the
general laugh however, for it can be nothing sorious where hia
friends make merry with it. When he retires from view, hia
health is drank with three times three. Di, who seemed to take
pleasure in annoying the spinster, said she had a great mind not
to join in that toast, for he was a loose fellow, otherwise he would
have rent his heart and not his garments. It is a pity a clever
girl like her will let her tongue run that way, for it leads them
to say things they ought not. Wit in a woman is a dangerous
thing, like a doctor's lancet, it is apt to be employed about mat-
ters that offend our delicacy, or hurt our feelings."

" ' What the devil is tbat ?' said the head of the firm, looking
up, as a few drops of rain fell. ' Why, here is a thunder-shower
coming on us as sure as the world. Come, let us pack up and
be off'

" And the servants are urged to be expeditious, and the
sword-knots tumble the glasses into the baskets, and the cold
hams atop of them, and break the decanters, to make them stow
better, and the head of the firm swears, and the sleeping partner

GirSEYINO.

207

Bays she will faint, she coukl never abide thunder; and Di tells
her it' she does not want to abide all nijj;ht, she had better move,
and a vivid flash of lightning gives notice to quit, and tears and
screams attest the notice is received, and the retreat is com-
menced ; but alas, the carriages are n mile and a half otf. and
the tempest rages, and the rain falls in torrents, and the thun-
der stuns them, and the lightning blinds them.

"'What's the use of hurrying?' says Di, 'we are now wet
through, and our clothes are spoiled, and I think we might take
it leisurely. Pistol, take my arm, I am not afraid of you now.'

"'Wliy?'

" ' Your powder is wet, and you can't go off. You are quite
harmless, larget, you had better run."

"'AVhy?'

" * You will be sure to be hit if you don't — won't he, Trigger ? '

" But Pistol, and Target, and Trigger are alike silent, G
sofi has lost his softness, and lets fall some hard terms. Every
one holds down his head, why, I can't understand, because be-
ing soaked, that attitude can't dry them.

" ' Uncle,' says Di, to the head of the firm, ' you a])pear to
enjoy it, you are buttoning up your coat as if you wanted to
keep the rain in.'

" ' I wish you would keep your tongue in,' he said, gruffly.

" ' I came for a party of pleasure,' said the unconquerable
girl, ' and I think there is great fun in this. Hen, I feel sorry
for you, you can't stand the wet as those darling ducks can.
Aunt will shake herself directly, and be as dry as an India rubber
model.'

" Aunt is angry, but can't answer — every clap of thunder
makes her scream. Sarah Matilda has lost her shoe, and the
water has closed over it, and she can't find it. ' Pistol, where
is your corkscrew ? draw it out.'

" ' It's all your fault,' sais the sleeping partner to the head
of the firm, ' I told you to bring the umbrellas.'

" ' It's all yours,' retorts the afflicted husband, ' I told you
thuse things were all nonsense, and more trouble than they
were worth.'

" ' It's all Hen's fault,' said Di, * for we came on purpose to
bring her out ; she has never been at a pic-nic before, and it's
holidays now. Oh ! the brook has risen, and the planks are
gone, we shall have to wade ; Hen, ask those men to go before,
I don't like them to see above my ancles.*

" ' Catch me at a pic-nic again,' said the terrified spinster.

" ' You had better get home from this first, before you talk
of another,' sais Di.

20S

OirSEYING.

" * Oh, Di, Di,' Bald Henrietta, * how can you act so ?'

" ' You may say Di, Di, if you please, dear,' said the tor-
mentor ; ' but I never say die — and never will while there is
life in me. Letty, will vou go to the ball to-night ? we shall
catch cold if we don't ; for we have two miles more of the rain
to endure in tlie open carriages before we reach the steamer,
and we shall be chilled when we cease walking.'

" But Letty can do nothing but cry, as if she wasn't wet
enough already.

'" Good gracious!' sais the head of the house, * the horses
have overturned the carriage, broke the pole, and run away.'

"' What's the upfiet price of it, I wonder?' sais Di, 'the
horses will make ' their election sure ;' they are at the ' head of
the jwle, they are returned and they have left no trace behind.'
I wish they had taken the rain with them also.'

" * It's a pity you wouldn't rein your tongue in also,' said
the fractious uncle.

" ' Well, I will, Nunky, if you will restrain your clioler. De
Courcy, the horses are off at a * smashing pace;' G soft, it's all
dickey with us now, ain't it? But that milk-sop, Eussel, is
making a noise in his boots, as if he was ^churning butter.'
Well, I never enjoyed anything so much as this in my life ; I
do wish the Mudges had been here, it is the only thing Avanting
to make this pic-nic perfect. What do you say, Target ?'

" But Target don't answer, he only mutters between his
teeth something that sounds like, 'what a devil thnt girl is!'
Nobody minds teasing now; their tempers are subdued, and
they arc dull, weary, and silent — dissatisfied with themselves,
with each other, and the day of pleasure.

" How could it be otherwise ? It is a thing they didn't un-
derstand, and had no taste for. They took a deal of trouble to
get away from the main road as far as possible; they never
penetrated farther into the forest than to obtain a shade, and
there eat an uncomfortable cold dinner, sitting on the ground,
had an ill-assorted party, provided no amusements, were
thoroughly bored, and drenched to the skin — and this some
people call a day in the bush.

" There is an old proverb, that has a bidden meaning in it,
that is applicable to this sort of thing — * As a man calleth in the
zcoods, so it shall be answered to him.'' "

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

200

CHAPTEE XYI.

THE WOBLD BUFOBE THE ElOOD.

We made another attempt at walking on the deck — the
moon was trying to struggle through the fog, which was now of
a bright copper colour.

"Doctor," said I, "have you ever seen a yellow fog be-
fore?"

" Yes," he said, " I have seen a white, black, red, and yel-
low fog," and went oflf into a disquisition about optics, mediums,
reflections, refractions, and all sorts of scientific terms.

"Well, I don't like hard words ; when you crack them, which
is plaguy tough work, you have to pick the kernel out with a
cambric needle, and unless it's soaked in wine, like the heart of
a hickory nut is, it don't taste nice, and don't pay you for the
trouble. So to change the subject, " Doctor," sais I, " how
long is this everlasting muUatto lookin* fog a goin' to last, f(»r
it ain't white, and it ain't black, but kind of betwixt and be-
tween."

Sais he, and he stopped and listened a moment, " It will be
gone by twelve o'clock to-night."

" "What makes you think so ?" said I.

" Do you hear that ?" said he.

" Yes," sais I, " I do ; it's children a playin' and a chatterin'
in French. Now it's nateral they should talk French, seein'
their parents do. They call it their mother-tongue, for old
wives are like old bosses, they are all tongue, and when their
teeth is gone, that unruly member grows thicker and bigger,
for it has a larger bed to stretch out in, — not that it ever sleeps
much, but it has a larger sphere of action, — do you take?
I don't know whether you have had this feeling of surprise,
Doctor, but I have, hearing those little imps talk French,
when, to save my soul, I can't jabber it that way myself. In
course of nature they must talk that lingo, for they are quilted
in French — kissed in French — fed in French — and put to bed
in French, — and told to pray to the Virgin in French, for that's
the language she loves best. She knows a great many languages,
but she can't speak English since Henry the Eighth's time, when
she said to him, 'You be fiddled,' which meant, the Scotch
should come with their fiddles and rule England.

" Stm somehow I feel strange when these little critters ad-

■■■■i I

; ;

I,' I

■

210

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

dress me in it, or when 'vomen use it to me (tho' I don't mind
that so much, for there are certain freemason signs the fair sex
understand all over the world), but the men puzzle me like Old
Scratch, and I often say to myself, "What a pit^ it is the critters
can't speak English. I never pity myself for not being able to
jabber French, but I blush for their ignorance. However, all
this is neither here nor there. Now, Doctor, how can you tell
this fog is booked for the twelve o'clock train? Is there a Brad-
shaw for weather?"

" Yes," said he, " there is, do you hear that ?"

" I don't hear nothing," saia I, " but two Frenchmen ashore
a jawing like mad. One darsen't, and t'other is afraid to fight,
so they are taking it out in gab — they ain't worth listening to.
How do they tell you the weather ? "

"Oh," said he, "it ain't them. Do you hear the falls at my
lake ? the west wind brings that to us. When I am there and
the rote is on the beach, it tells me it is the voice of the south
wind giAdng notice of rain. All nature warns me. The swallow,
the pig, the goose, the fire on the hearth, the soot in the flue,
the smoke of the chimney, the rising and setting sun, the white
frost, the stars — all, all tell me."

"Yes," sais I, "when I am to home I know all them
signs."

" The spider too is my guide, and the ant also. But the
little pimpernel, the poor man's weather-glass, and the convol-
vulus are truer than any barometer, and a glass of water never
lies."

" Ah, Doctor," said X, " you and I read and study the same
book. I don't mean to assert we are, as Sorrow says, nateral
children, but we are both children of nature, and honour our
parents. I agree with you about the fog, but I wanted to see
if you could answer signals with me. I am so glad you have
come on board. You want amusement, I want instruction.
I will swap stories with you for bits of your wisdom, and as
you won't take boot, I shall be a great gainer."

After a good deal of such conversation, we went below, and
in due season turned in, in a place where true comfort consists
in oblivion. The moining, as the doctor predicted, was clear, the
fog was gone, and the little French village lay before us in all
the beauty of ugliness. The houses were small, unpainted, and
uninviting. Fish-flakes were spread on the beach, and the
women were busy in turning the cod upon them. Boats were
leaving the shore for the fishing-ground. Each of these was
manned by two or three or four hands, who made as much
noise as if they were getting a vessel under weigh, and were

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

211

them

w, and
onsists
ar, the
J in all
jd, and
nd the
s were
se was
much
Id were

Beverally giving orders to each other with a rapidity of utter-
ance that no people but Frenchmen are capable of.

" Every nation," said the doctor, " has its peculiarity, but
the French Acadians excel all others in their adnerence to their
own ways ; and in this particular, the Chesencookers surpass
even their own countrjrmen. The men all dress alike, and the
women all dress alike, as you will presently see, and always have
done so within the memory of man. A round, short jacket which
scarcely covers the waistcoat, trowsers that seldom reach below
the ankle-joint, and yam stockings, all four being blue, and
manufactured at home, and apparently dyed in the same tub,
with moccasins for the feet, and a round fur or cloth cap to
cover the head, constitute the uniform and unvaried dress of
the men. The attire of the women is equally simple. The short
gown which reaches to the hip, and the petticoat which serves
for a skirt, both made of coarse domestic cloth, having perpen-
dicular blue and white stripes, constitute the diiference of dress
that marks the distinction of the sexes, if we except a handker-
chief thrown over the head, and tied under the chin, for the
blue stockings and the moccasins are common to both, males
and females.

" There has been no innovation for a century in these par-
ticulars, unless it be that a hat has found its way into Chesen-
cook, not that such a stove-pipe looking thing as that has any
beauty in it ; but the boys of Halifax are not to be despised, if
a hat is, and even an ourang-outang, if he ventured to walk
about the streets, would have to submit to wear one. But the
case is diiSerent with women, especially modest, discreet, unob-
trusive ones, like those of the ' long-snore French.' They are
stared at because they dress like those in the world before the
Flood, but it's an even chance if the antediluvian damsels were
half so handsome ; and what pretty girl can find it in her heart
to be very angry at attracting attention ? Tes, their simple
manners, their innocence, and their sex are their protection.
But no cap, bonnet, or ribbon, velvet, muslin, or lace, was ever
seen at Chesencook. Whether this neglect of finery (the love
of which is so natural to their countrywomen in Europe) arises
from a deep-rooted veneration fo/ the ways of their predecessors,
or from the sage counsel of their spiritual instructors, who de-
sire to keep them from the contamination of the heretical world
around them, or from the conviction that

' The adorning thee with so much art
Is but a barbarous skill,
'Tis like the barbing of a dart,
Too apt before to kill,'

212

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

I know not. Such however is the fact novcrtliclrHH, niul you
ought to record it, as an instance in which thcv hnvt; nliown
their superiority to this universal weakness. Still, both men
and women are decently and comfortably clad. Thm; is no such
thing as a ragged Acadian, and I never yet saw one begging his
bread. Some people are distinguished for their industry, others
for their idleness; some for their inj^enuity, and others for their
i)atience; but the great characteristic of an Acadiiin is talk, and
his talk is, from its novelty, amusing and instructive, even in its
nonsense.

•' These people live close to the banks where cod are found,
and but little time is recjuireo in proceeding to the scene of their
labour, therefore there is no necessity for being in a hurry, and
there is lots of time for palaver. Every boat has an oracle in
it, who speaks with an air of authoritv. He is a great talker,
and a great smoker, and he chats so skilfully, that he enjoys his
pipe at the same time, and manages it so as not to interrupt
his jabbering. He can smoke, talk, and row at once. Ho don't
smoke fast, for that puts his pipe out by consuming his tobacco ;
nor row fast, for it fatigues him."

" Exactly," sais I, '* but the tongue, I suppose, havmg, like
a clock, a locomotive power of its own, goes like one of ray
wooden ones for twenty-four hours without ceasing, and like
one of them also when it's e'en amost worn-out and up in years,
goes at the rate of one hundred minutes to the hour, strikes
without counting the number, and gives good measure, banging
away often twenty times at one o'clock."

Every boat now steered for the "Black Hawk," and the
oracle stopped talking French to practise English. " How you
do, Sare? now you do your wife?" said Lewis Le Blanc, ad-
dressing me.

" I have no wife."

" No wife, ton pee ? "WTio turn your fish for you, den ? "

"Whereat they all laugh, and all talk French again. And
oracle says, ' He takes his own eggs to market, den.' He don't
laugh at that, for wits never laugh at their own jokes ; but the
rest snicker till they actiUy scream.

" What wind are we going to have, Lewis ? '

Oracle stands up, carefully surveys the sky, and notices all
the signs, and then looks wise, and answers in a way that there
can be no mistake. " Now you see, Sare, if de wind blow off
de shore, den it will be west wind ; if it blow from de sea, den
it will be east wind; and if it blow down coast," pointing to
each quarter with his hand like a weather-cock, " den it will
sartaiii be sout ; and up de coast, den you will be sartain it will

TIIK WOULD DEFOltfi THE FLOOD.

213

como from do nort. I never knew dat sipn fail." And he takes
Ihh i)i|M> fmiii his mouth, knocks some nshes out of it, and spita
in tiiu wal«T, nn much au to say. Now 1 am ready to swear to
that. Anil well he may, for it amounts to this, that the wind
will bh>w from any quarter it comes from. The other three all
regard him with as much respect as if he was clerk of the
weatluT.

"Interesting people these. Doctor," said I, "ain't they?
It's the world before the Flood. I wonder if they know how to
trade ? Barter was the primitive traiUck. Com was given for
oil, and fish for honey, and sheep and goats for oxen and horses,
and HO on. There is a good deal of trickery in barter, too. for
necessity has no laws. The value of money we know, and a
thing is worth what it will fetch in cash ; but swapping is a
diflercnt matter. It's a horse of a different colour."

" You will find," said the doctor, " the men (I except the
other sex always) are as acute as you are at a bargain. You
are more like to be bitten than to bite if you try that game
with them."

" liet vou a dollar," pais I, " I sell that old coon as easy as a
clock. What, a Chesencooker a match for a Yankee! Come, I
like that ; that is good. Here goes for a trial, at any rate.

" Mounsheer," sais I, " have you any wood to seU ? "

We didn't need no wood, but it don t do to begin to ask for
what you want, or you can't do nothin'.

" Yes," said he.

"What's the price," said I, "cash down on the nail?" for
I knew the critter would see " the point " of coming down with
the blunt.

"It's ten dollars and a half," said he, "a cord at Halifax,
and it don't cost me nothin' to carry it there, for I have my own
shallop — but I will sell it for ten dollars to oblige you." That
was just seven dollars more than it was worth.

" Well," sais I, " that's not high, only cash is scarce. If you
will take mackarel in pay, at six dollars a barrel (which was two
dollars more than its value), p'raps we might trade. Could you
sell me twenty cord?"

" Yes, may be twenty-five."

"And the mackarel ?" said I.

" Oh," said he, " mackarel is only worth three dollars and a
half at Halifax. I can't sell mine even at that. I have sixty
barrels, number one, for sale."

" If yoii will promise me to let me have all the wood I want,
more or less," sais I, " even if it is ever so little ; or as much as
thirty cords, at ten dollars a cord, real rock maple, and yellow

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

birch, then I will take all jour mackarel at three and a half
dollars, money down."

" Say four," said he.

" No," sais I, "you say you can't git but three and a half at
Halifax, and I won t beat you down, nor advance one cent my-
Holf. But mind, if I oblige you by buying all your mackarel,
you must oblige me by letting me have all the wood / want."

" Done," said he ; so we warped into the wharf, took the fish
on hoard, and I paid him the money, and cleared fifteen pounds
by the operation.

" Now," says I, " where is the wood ? "

" All this is mine," said he, pointing to a pile, containing
about fifty cords.

" Can I have it all," said I, " if I want it ?"

He took cfl' his cap and scratched his head ; scratching helps
a man to think amazingly. He thought he had better ask a
little more than ten dollars, as I appeared to be so ready to buy
ttt any price. So he said,

" X es, you may have it all at ten and a half dollars."

" I thought you said I might have what I wanted at ten."

" Well, I have changed my mind," said he, " it is too
low."

" And so have I," sais I, " I won't trade with a man that
acts that way," and I went on board, and the men cast ofl' and
began to warp the vessel again up to her anchor.

Lewis took off his cap and began scratching his head again,
he had over-reached himself. Expecting an immense profit on
his wood, he had sold his fish very low ; he saw I was in earnest,
and jumped on board.

" Capitaine, you will have him at ten, so much as you want
of him."

" "Well, measure me off half a cord."

"What!" said he, opening both eyes to their full extent.

" Measure me off half a cord."

" Didn't you say you wanted twenty or thirty cord?"

" No," sais I, " I said I must have that much if I wanted
it, but I don't want it, it is only worth three dollars, and you
have had the modesty to ask ten, and then ten and a half, but
I will take half a cord to please you, so measure it off."

He stormed, and raved, and swore, and threw his cap down
on the deck and jumped on it, and stretched out his arm as if
he was going to fight, and stretched out his wizzened face, as if
it made halloing easier, and foamed at the mouth like a boss
that has eat lobelia in his hay.

"Be gar," he said, "I shall sue you before the common

THE WOULD BEFOKE THE FLOOD.

215

half

Bcoundrclii (council) nt Halifnx, I iihall take it bt'fore tlic iprrm
(auprcmc) court, and trt/ it out."

" How much He will you get," fiaia I, "by /ryi/i' me out, do
you think ?

" Never mind," said T, in a loud voice, and lookitij; over him
at the r.iate, and pretending to auBWcr him, ** Xevcr mind if ho
won't Ro on shore, ho is welcome to stay, ard we will land him cm
the Isle of Sable, and catch a wild hosstor him to swim home on."

The hint was electrical ; he picked up his cap and ran nt't,
and with one desperate leap nmched the wharf in Hafcty, when
he turned and danced as before with rage, and IjIh last audible
words were, " Be gar, I shall go to the ftpemi court and try it out."

" In the world before the Flood, you see, Doctor," said I,
" they knew how to cheat as well as the present race do ; the
onlv improvement this fellow has made on the antediluvian race
is, he can take himself in, as well as others."

" I have often thought," said the doctor, " that in our deal-
ings in life, and particularly in trading, a ditficult question must
often arise whether a thing, notwithstanding the world sanctions
it, is lawful and right. Now what is your idea of smuggling ?"

"I never smuggled," said I: "I nave sometimes imported
goods and didn't pay the duties ; not that I wanted to smuggle,
but because I hadn't time to go to the oflBce. It's a good deal
of trouble to go to a custom-house. When you get there you
are sure to be delayed, and half the time to git sarce. It coats
a good deal ; no one thanks you, and nobody defrays cab-hire,
and makes up for lost time, temper, and patience to you — it
don't pay in a general way ; sometimes it will ; for instance,
when I left the embassy, I made thirty thousand pounds of
your money by one operation. Lead was scarce in our market,
and very high, and the duty was one-third of the prime cost, as
a protection to the n&tive article. So what does I do, but go to
old Galena, one of the greatest dealers in the lead trade in
Great Britain, and ascertained the wholesale price.

" Saia I, ' I want five hundred thousand dollars worth of lead.'

" ' That is an immense order,' said he, * Mr Slick. There is
no market in the world that can absorb so much at once.'

" ' The loss will be mine,' said I. ' What deductions will
you make it' I take it all from your house ?'

" Well, he came down handsome, and did the thing genteel.

" * Now,' sais I, ' will you let one of your people go to my
cab, and bring a mould I have there.'

" Well, it was done.

" ' There,' said I, * is a large bust of AVashington. Every
citizen of the United States ought to have one, if he has a dust

1 1

21G

THE WORLD HEFORE THE FLOOD.

t \

s I

of patriotism in him. I must have the lead cast into rough
busts like that.'

" ' Hollow,' said he, * of course.'

" ' No, no,' sais I, ' by no manner of means, the heavier and
solider the better.'

" ' But,' said Galena, * Mr Slick, excuse me, though it is
against my own interest, I cannot but suggest you might find
a ciicjaper material, and one more smtable to your very laudable
object.'

" ' Not at all,' said I, ' lead is the very identical thing. If a
man don't like the statue and its price, and it's like as not he
wont, he will like the lead. There is no duty on statuary, but
there is more tlian thirty per cent, on lead. The duty alone is
a fortune of not less than thirty thousand pounds, after all ex-
penses are paid.'

" ' Well now,' said he, throwing back his head and laughing,
* that is the most ingenious device to evade duties I ever heard

It -,

''' I immediately gave orders to my agents at Liverpool to send
G many tons to Washington and every port and place on the sea-
board of the United States except New York, but not too many
to a ly one town ; and then I took passage in a steamer, and or-
dered all my agents to close the consignment immediately, and
let tlie lead hero change hands. It was generally allowed to be
the handsomest operation ever performed in our country. Con-
necticut ofiered to send me to Congress for it, the folks felt so
proud of me.

" But I don't call that smugglin'. It is a skilful reading of
a revenue law. My idea of smugglin' is, there is the duty, and
there is the penalty ; pay one and escape the other if you like,
if not, run your chance of the penalty. If the state wants re-
venue, let it collect its dues, if I want my debts got in, I at-
tend iv drummin'them up together myself; let government do
the same. There isn't a bit of harm in smugglin'. I don't like
a law restraining liberty. Let them that impose shackles look
to the bolts ; that's my idea."

" That argument won't hold water, Slick," said the doctor.

"Why?"

*' Because it is ns fuU of holes as a cullender.'

"How?"

*' The obligation between a government and a people is reci-
procal. To protect on the one hand, and to support on the other.
Taxes are imposed, first, for the maintenance ot the government,
and secondly, for such other objects as are deemed necessary or
expedient. The moment goods are imported, which are subject

THE WORLD BEFORK THE FLOOD.

217

3tor.

reci-
klier.

lent,
Irv or
Ibject

to such exactions, the amount of the tax is a debt due to the state,
the evasion or denial of which is a fraud. The penalty is not au
alternative at your option ; it is a punisliment, and that always
presupposes an offence. There is no difference between defraud-
ing the state or an individual. Corporeality, cr ineorporeality,
has nothing to do with the matter."

" Well," sais I, " Domine Doctor, that doctrine of implicit
obedience to the government won't hold water neither, other-
wise, if you had lived in Cromwell's time, you would have to
have assisted in cutting the king's head off, or fight in an unjust
war, or a thousand other wicked but legal things. I believe
every tub must stand on its own bottom ; general rules won't
do. Take each separate, and judge of it by itself."

" Exactly," sais the doctor ; " try that in law and see how
it would work. No two cases would be decided alike ; you'd
be adrift at once, and a drifting ship soon touches bottom. No,
that won't hold water. Stick to general principles, and if a
thing is an exception to the rule, put it in Schedule A or B, and
you know where to look for it. General rules are fixed prin-
ciples. But ycu are only talking for talk sake ; I know you are.
Do you think now that merchant did right to aid you in evad-
ing the duty on your leaden Washingtons ? "

" AVhat the plague had he to do with our revenue laws ?
They don't bind him," sais I.

" No," said the doctor, "bUt there is a higher law than the
statutes of the States or of England either, and that is the moral
law. In aiding you, he made the greatest sale of lead ever ef-
fected at once in England ; the profit on that was his share of
the smuggling. But you are omy drayying me out to see what
I am made of. You are an awful man for a bam. There goes
old Lewis in his fishing boat," sais he. " Look at him shaking
his fist at vou. Do you hear him jabbering away about trying
it out in the * sperm court ? ' "

" I'll make him draw his fist in, I know," sais I. So I seized
my rifle, and stepped behind the mast, so that he could not see
me ; and as a large grey gull was passing over his boat high up
in the air, I fired, and down it fell on the old coon's head so
heavily and so suddenly, he thought he was shot ; and he and
the others set up a yell of fright and terror that made everybody
on board of the little fleet of coasters that were anchored round
us, combine in three of the heartiest, merriest, and loudest cheers
I ever heard.

" Try that out in the sperm court, you old bull-frog," sais I.
"I guess there is more ile to be found in that fishy gentleman
than in me." " Well," sais I, " Doctor, to get back to what wu

B! N

218

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

was a talking of. It's a tight squeeze sometimes to scrouge
between a lie and a truth in business, ain't it ? The passage is
80 narrow, if you don't take care it will rip your trowser but-
tons off in spite of you. Fortunately I am thin, and can do it
like an eel, squirmey fashion ; but a stout, awkward fellow is
most sure to be catcned.

" I shall never forget a rise I once took out of a set of jockeys
at Albany. I had an everlastin' fast Naraganset pacer once to
Slickville, one that I purchased in Mandarin's place. I was con-
siderable proud of him, I do assure you, for he took the rag off
the bush m great style. Well, our stable-help, Pat Monaghan
(him I used to call Mr Monaghan), would stuff him with fresh
clover without me knowing it, and as sure as rates, I broke his
wind in driving him too fast. It gave him the heaves, that is,
it made his flanks heave like a blacksmith's bellows. AVe call
it ' heaves,' Britishers call it ' broken wind.' Well, there is no
cure for it, though some folks tell you a hornet's nest cut up
fine and put in their meal will do it, and others say sift the oats
clean and give them juniper berries in it, and that will do it, or

f'ound ginger, or tar, or what not ; but these are all quackeries,
ou can't cure it, for it's a ruption of an air vessel, and you can't
get at it to sew it up. But you can fix it up by diet and care,
and proper usage, so that you can deceive even an old hand,
providin' you don't let him ride or drive the beast too fast.

" Well, I doctored and worked with him so, the most that
could be perceived was a slight cold, nothin' to mind, much less
frighten you. And when I got him up to the notch, I adver-
tised him for sale, as belonging to a person going down east, who
only parted with him because he thought him too heavey for a
man who never travelled less than a mile in two minutes and
twenty seconds. Well, he was sold at auction, and knocked
down to Rip Van Dam, the Attorney-General, for five hundred
dollars ; and the owner put a saddle and bridle on him, and took
a bet of two hundred dollars with me, he could do a mile in two
miautes, fifty seconds. He didn't know me from Adam parson-
ally, at the time, but he had heard of me, and bought the horse
because it was said Sam Slick owned him.

" Well, he started off, and lost his bet ; for when he got near
the winnin'-post the horse choked, fell, and pitched the rider off
half-way to Troy, and nearly died himself. The umpire handed
me the money, and I dug out for the steam-boat intendin' to pull
foot for home. Just as I reached the wharf, I heard my name
called out, but I didn't let on I noticed it, and walked a-head.
Presently, Van Dam seized me by the shoulder, quite out of
breath, puffin' and blowin' like a porpoise.

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

219

" 'Mr Slick r" said he.

" * Yes,' sais I, * what's left of me ; but good gracious/ sais
I, 'you have got tu 'heaves.' I hope it ain't catchin'.'

" * No I haven't,' said he, * but your cussed boss has, and
nearly broke my neck. Tou are like all the Connecticut men
I ever see, a nasty, mean, long-necked, long-legged, narrow-
chested, slab-sided, narrow-souled, lantem-jawed, Yankee
cheat.'

" ' Well,' sais I, * that's a considerable of a long name to
write on the back of a letter, ain't it ? It ain't good to use such
a swad of words, it's no wonder you have the heaves ; but I'll
cure you ; I wam't brought up to wranglin' ; I hain't time to
fight you, and besides,' said I, ' you aje broken- winded ; but I'll
chuck you over the wharf into the river to cool you, boots and
all, by gravy.'

" * Didn't you advertise,' said he, ' that the only reason you
had to part with that horse was, that he was too heavy for a man
who never travelled slower than a mile in two minutes and
twenty seconds ? '

" ' Never ! ' sais I, ' I never said such a word. "What will
you bet I did?'

"'Fifty dollars,' said he.

" * Done,' said I. * And, Vanderbelt — (he was just going on
board the steamer at the time) — Vanderbelt,' sais I, ' hold these
stakes. Friend,' sais I, ' I won't say you lie, but you talk un-
commonly like the way I do when I lie. Now prove it.'

" And he puUed out one of my printed advertisements, and
said, ' Eead that.'

" Well, I read it. * It ain't there,' said I.

" 'Ain't it ?' said he. * I leave it to Vanderbelt.*

" ' Mr Slick,' said he, ' you have lost — it is here.'

" * Will you bet fifty dollars,' said I, ' though you have seen
it, that it's there ? '

"'Ye8,'saidhe, *IwiU.'

" ' Done,' said I. ' Now how do you spell heavy ?'

" ' H-e-a-v-y,' said he.

" * Exactly,' sais I ; ' so do I. But this is spelt heav-ey. I
did it on purpose. I scorn to take a man in about a horse, so
I published his defect to all the world. I said he was too heavey
for harness, and so he is. He ain't worth fifty doUars — I
wouldn't take him as a gift — he ain't worth von dam^

" ' Well, I did see that,' said he, ' but I thought it was an
error of the press, or that the owner couldn't spell.'

" ' Oh ! ' sais I, ' don't take me for one of your Dutch boors,
I beg of you. I can spell, but you can't read, that's all. You

220

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

remind mo,' sais I, * of a feller in Slickville when the six-cent
letter stamps came in fashion. He licked the stamp so hard, he
took a)l the gum off, and it wouldn't stay on, no how he could
fix it, so what does he do but put a pin through it, and \>Tite8
on the letter, " Paid, if the darned thing will only stick." Now,
it you go and lick the stamp etarnally that way, folks will put
a pin through it, and the story will stick to you for ever and
ever. But come on board, and let's liquor, and I will stand
treat.'

" I felt sorry for the poor critter, and I told him how to
feed the horse, and advised him to take him to Saratoga, adver-
tise him, and sell him the same way ; and he did, and got rid
of him. The rise raised his character as a la\iTer amazing. He
v» as elected governor next year ; a sell like that is the making
of a lawyer.

"Now I don't call the lead Washingtons nor the Jieavey
horse either on 'em a case of cheat ; but I do think a man ought
to know how to read a law and how to read an advertisement,
don't you ? But come, let us go ashore, and see how the galls
look, for you have raised my curiosity."

We accordingly had the boat lowered ; and taking Sorrow
with us to see if he could do anything in the caterir g line, the
doctor. Cutler, and myself landed on the beach, and walked
round the settlement.

The shore was covered with fish flakes, which sent up an
aroma not the most agreeable in the world except to those who
lived there, and they, I do suppose, snuff up the breeze as if it
was loaded with wealth and smelt of the Gold Coast. But this
was nothing (although I don't think I ''an ever eat dum fish
again as long as I live) to the effluvia arising from decomposed
heaps of sea-wood, which had been gathered for manure, and
was in the act of removal to the fields. No words can describe
this, and I leave it to your imagination, Squire, to form an idea
of a new perfume in nastiness that has never yet been appreci-
ated but by an Irishman.

I heard a Paddy once, at Halifax, describe the wreck of a
carriage which had been dashed to pieces. He said there was
not "a smell of it left." Poor fellow, he must have landed at
Chesencook^ find removed one of those oloriferous heaps, as Sor-
row called them, and borrowed the metaphor from it, that there
was not "a smell of it left." On the beach between the "flakes"
and the water, were smaller heaps of the garbage of the cod-fish
and mackarel, on which the grey and white gulls fought,
screamed, and gorged themselves, while on the bar were the
remains of several enormous black fish, half the size of whales,

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

221

which had hccn driven on shore, and hauled up out of the rencli
of the waves by strong ox teams. The heads and livers of tlu'so
huf^e monsters had been *^ fried out in the Sperm eourt" for ih%
and the putrid remains of the carcass were disputed for by pii;s
and crows. The discordant noises of these hungry birds and
beasts were perfectly deafening.

On the right-hand side of the harbour, boys and girls waded
out on the flats to dig clams, and were assailed on all sides by
the screams of wild fowl who resented the invasion of their ter-
ritory, and were replied to in tones no less shrill and unintelli-
gible. On the left was the wTeck of a large ship, which had
perished on the coast, and left its ribs and keleton to bleach
on the shore, as if it had failed in the vain attempt to reach the
forest from which it had sprung, and to repose in death in ita
native valley. From one of its masts, a long, loose, solitary
shroud was pendant, having at its end a large double block at-
tached to it, on which a boy was seated, and swung backward
and forward. He was a little saucy urchin, of about twelve
years of age, dressed in striped homespun, and had on his head
a red yarn clackmutch, that resembled a cap of liberty. He
seemed quite happy, and sung a verse of a French song with an
air of conscious pride and defiance as ; ; * -nother, stick in hand,
stood before him, and at the top of her voice now threatened
him with the rod, his father, and the priest — and then treach"
erously coaxed him with a promise to take him to Halifax,
where he should see the great chapel, hear the big beU, and
look at the bishop. A group of little girls stared in amaze-
ment at his courage, but trembled when they heard his mother
predict a broken neck — purgatory — and the devil as his portion.

The dog was as excited as the boy — he didn't bark, but he
whimpered as he gazed upon him, as if he would like to jump
up and be with him, or to assure him he would catch him if he
fdl, if he had but the power to do so.

What a picture it was — the huge wreck of that that once
"walked the waters as a thing of life" — the merry boy — the
anxious mother — the trembling sisters — the affectionate dog ;
what bits of church-yard scenes were here combined — children
playing on the tcuibs — the young and the old — the merry and
the aching heart — the living among the dead. Far beyond this
were tall figures wading in the water, and seeking their food in
the shallows ; cranes, who felt the impunity that the superstition
of the simple hahitans had extended to them, and sought their
daily meal in peace.

Above the beach and parallel with it, ran a main road, on
the upper side of which were the houses, and on a swelling

,■

222

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

mound behind them rose the spire of the chape! visible far off
in the Atlantic, a sacred signal-post for the guidance of the
poor coaster. As soon as you reacn this street or road and look
around you, you feel at once you are in a foreign country and
a land of strangers. The people; their dress, and their language,
the houses, their form and appearance, the implements of hus-
bandry, their shape an'? construction — all that you hear and see
is unlike anything else. It is neither above, beyond, or behind
the age. It is the world before the Flood. I have sketched it
for you, and I think without bragging I may say I can take
things off to the life. Once I drawed a mutton chop so nateral,
my dog broke his teeth in tearing the panel to pieces to get at
it ; and at another time I painted a shingle so like stone, when
I threw it into the water, it sunk right kerlash to the bottom.

" Oh, Mr Slick," said the doctor, " let me get away from
here. I can't bear the sight of the sea-coast, and above all, of
this offensive place. Let us get into the woods where we can
enjoy ourselves, Ycu have never witnessed what I have lately,
and I trust in God you never will. I have seen within this
month two hundred dead bodies on a beach in every possible
shape of disfiguration and decomposition — mangled, mutilated,
and dismembered corpses ; male and female, old and yoimg, the
•prey of fishes, birds, beasts, and, what is worse, of human beings.
The wrecker had been there — whether he was of your country
or mine I know not, but I fervently hope he belonged to neithei*.
Oh, I have never slept sound since. The screams of the birds
terrify me, and yet what do they do but follow the instincts of
their nature ? They batten on the dead, and if they do feed on
the living, G-od has given them animated beings for their susten-
ance, as he has the fowls of the air, the fishes of the sea, and the
beasts of the field to us, but they feed not on each other, Man,
man alone is a cannibal. What an awful word that is !"

" Exactly," sais I, " for he is then below the canine species
— 'dog won't eat dog.' * The wrecker lives not on those who
die, but on those whom he slays. The pirate has courage at least
to boast of, he risks his life to rob the ship, but the other at-
tacks the helpless and unarmed, and spares neither age nor sex
in his thirst tor plunder. I don't mean to say we are worse on
this side of the Atlantic than the other, Q-od forbid. I believe
we are better, for the American people are a kind, a feeling, and
a humane race. Bui avarice hardens the heart, and distress,
when it comes in a mtiss, overpowers pity for the individual,

• This homely adag;e is far more expressive than the Latin one : —

" Parcit
Cognates maculis, similis fera." — Juv.

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.

228

■while inability to aid a multitude induces a carelessness to assist
any. A whole community will rush to the rescue of a drowning
man, not because his purse can enrich them all (that is too dark
a view of human nature), but because he is the sole object of
interest. When there are hundreds struggling for life, few of
whom can be saved, and when some wretches are solely bent on
booty, the rest, regardless of duty, rush in for their share also,
and the ship and her cargo attract all. When the wreck is
plundered, tne transition to rifling the dying and the dead is
not difficult, and cupidity, when once sharpened by success,
brooks no resistance, for the remonstrance of conscience is
easily silenced where supplication is not even heard. Avarice
benumbs the feelings, and when the heart is hardened, man be-
coD^es a mere beast of prey. Oh this scene afflicts me — let us
move on. These poor people have never yet been suspected of
such atrocities, and surely they were not perpetrated in the
xcorld before the Flood.**

CHAPTEE XVII.

LOST AT SEA.

" I BELIEVE, Doctor," sais I, " we have seen all that is worth
notice here, let us go into one of their houses and ascertain if
there is anything for Sorrow's larder; but. Doctor," sais I, "let
us first find out if they speak English, for if they do we must
be careful what we say before them. Very few of the old people
I guess know anything but French, but the younger ones who
frequent the Hamax market know more than they pretend to
if they are like some other habitans I saw at New Orleans. They
are as cunning as foxes."

Proceeding to one of the largest coti-ages, we immediately
gained admission. Tho door, unlike those of Nova Scotian
houses, opened outwards, the fastening being a simple wooden
latch. The room into which we entered was a large, dark, dingy,
dirty apartment. In the centre of it was a tub containing some
gosiins, resembling yellow balls of corn-meal, rather than birds.
Two females were all that were at home, one a little wrinkled
woman, whose age it would puzzle a physiognomist to pro-
nounce on, the other a girl about twentv-hve years old. They

221

LOST AT SEA.

Bnt on opposite sides of the fire-place, and both were clothed
alike, in blue striped homespun, as previously described.

" Look at their moccnsins," said the doctor. " They know
much more about deer-skius than half the English settltrs do.
Do you observe, they are made of carriboo, and not moose
hide. The former contracts with wet and the other distends
ana gtts out of shape. Simple as that little thing is, few people
have ever noticed it."

The girl, had she been differently trained and dressed, would
have been handsome, but spare diet, exposure to the sun and
wind, and field-labour, had bronzed her face, so that it was diffi-
cult to say what her real complexion was. Her hair wa-i jet
black and very luxuriant, but the handkerchief which served for
bonnet and head-dress by day, and for a cap by night, hid all
but the ample folds in front. Her teeth were as white as ivory,
and contrasted strangely with the gipsy colour of her cheeks.
Her eyes were black, soft, and liquid, and the lashes remark-
ably long, but the expression of her face, which was naturally
good, indicated, though not very accurately, the absence of
either thought or curiosity.

After a while objects became more distinct in the room, as
we gradually became accustomed to the dim light of the small
windows. The walls \?ere hung round with large hanks of yam,
principally blue and white. An open cupboard displayed some
plain coarse cups and saucers, and the furniture consisted of
two rough tables, a large bunk,* one or two sea-chests, and a
few chairs of simple workmanship. A large old-fashioned spin-
ning-wheel and a barrel-chum stood in one comer, and in the
other a shoemaker's bench, while carpenter's tools were sus-
pended on nails in such places as were not occupied by yam.
There was no ceiling or plastering visible anywhere, the floor
of the attic alone separated that portion of the house from the
lower room, and the joice on which it was laid were thus ex-
posed to view, and supported on wooden elects, leather, oai'3;
rudders, together with some half-dressed pieces of ash, snow-
shoes, and such other things as necessity might require. The
wood- work, wherever visible, was begrimed with smoke, and the
floor, though doubtless sometimes swept, appeared as if it had
the hydrophobia hidden in its cracks, so carefully were soap nnd
water kept from it. Hams and bacon were nowhere vi>:i le.
It is probable, if they had any, they were kept elsewhere, but ^
still more probable that they had found their way to market,
and been transmuted into money, for these people are remark-

♦ Bunk is a word in common iise, and means a box that makes a seat by
dav and serves for a bedstead by night.

LOST AT SEA.

OO"!

ably frugal and abstemious, and there can be no doubt, the
doctor says, that there is not a house in the settlement in wliich
there is not a supply of ready money, though the appearan<"e of
the buildings and their inmates would by no means justify a
stranger in supposing so. They are neither poor nor destitute,
but far better otf than those who live more comfortably and
inhabit better houses.

The only article of food that I saw was a barrel of egga,
most probably accumulated for the Halifax market, and a few
small fish on rods, undergoing the process of smoking in the
chimney comer.

The old woman was knitting and enjoying her pipe, and the
girl was dressing wool, and handling a pair of cards with a
rapidity and easr . nat would have surprised a Lancashire weaver.
The moment she rose to sweep up the hearth I saw she was n •
heiress. When an Acadian girl has but her outer and under
garment on, it is a clear sign, if she marries, there will be a
heavy demand on the fleeces of her husband's sheep ; but if she
wears four or more thick woollen petticoats, it is equally certain
her portion of worldly goods is not very small.

" Doctor," sais I, "it tante every damin' needle would reach
her through them petticoats, is it ? "

"Oh!" said he, "Mr Slick — oh!" and he rose as usual,
stooped forward, pressed his hands on his ribs, and ran round
the room, if not at the imminent risk of his life, certainly to the
great danger of the spinning wheel and the goslings. Both the
females regarded him with great surprise, and not without some
alarm.

" He has the stomach-ache," sais I, in French, " he is sub-
ject to it."

" Oh ! oh ! " said he, when he heard that, " oh, Mr Slick,
you will be the death of me."

" Have you got any peppermint?" sais I.
" No," said she, talkmg in her own patois; and she scraped
a spoonful of soot from the chimney, and putting it into a cup,
was about pouring hot water on it for an emetic, when he could
stand it no longer, but rushing out of the door, put to flight a
flock of geese that were awaiting their usual meal, and stumb-
ling over a pig, fell at full length on the ground, nearly crushing
the dog, who went off yelling as if another such blow would b':
the death of him, and hid himself under the bam. The idea of
the soot-emetic relieved the old lady, though It nearly f xed the
doctor's flint for him. She extolled its virtues to the skies ; she
saved her daughter's life, she said, with it once, who had been
to Hali^ix, and was taken by an officer into a pastrycook's shop

^j^g^^l^^ll ^^^^*^^^^^^^^

226

LOST AT SEA.

and treated. lie told her if she would cat as much 08 she could
at once, ho would pay for it all.

Well, she did her best. She eotoneloaf of i)lumrake,thrce
trays of jellies, a whole counter of little tarts, hf^s, raisins, and
orrngcs, and all sorts of things without number. Oh ! it was
a ^rand clunce, she said, and the way she eat was a caution to
a cormorant ; but at last she gave out she couldn't do no more.
The foolish officer, the old lady observed, if he had let her fetch
all them thinj^s home, you know wr could have helped her to
eat them, and if we couldn't have eat 'em all in one day, surely
we could in one week ; but he didn't think of that I suppose.
But her daughter liked to have died ; too much of a good tning
is good for nothing. Well, the soot-emetic cured her, and then
she told me all its eftects ; and it's very surprising, it didn't
sound bad in French, but it don't do to write it in English at
all ; it's the same thing, but it tells better in French. It must
be a very nice language that for a doctor, when it makes emetics
sound so prettv ; you might hear of 'em while you was at dinner
and not disturo you.

You may depend it made the old ladv wake snakes and walk
chalks talking of physic. She told me if a man was dying or a
child was born in all that settlement, she was always sent for,
and related to me some capital stories ; but somehow no Eng-
lish or Yankee woman could tell them to a man, and a man
can't tell them in English. How is this, Squire, do you know ?
Ah ! here is the doctor, I will ask him by and by.

Women, I believe, are bom with certain natural tastes.
Sally was death on lace, and old Aunt Thankful goes the whole
figure for furs ; either on 'em could tell real thread or genuine
sable clear across the church. Mother was bom vrith a tidy
devil, and had an eye for cobwebs and blue-bottle flies. She
waged eternal war on 'era; while Phoebe Hopewell beat all
natur for bigotry and virtue as she called them (h'.jouterie and
virtu). But most Yankee women when they grow old, speci-
ally if they are spinsters, are grand at compoundia' medicines
and presarves. They begin by nursin' babies and end by nursin'
broughten up folks. Old Mother Boudrot, now, was great on
herbs, most of which were as simple and as harmless as herself.
Some of them was new to me, though I think I know better
ones than she has ; but what made her onfaUible was she had
faith. She took a key out of her pocket, big enough for a jail-
door, and unlocking a huge sailor's chest, selected a box made by
the Indians of birch bark, worked with porcupine quiUs, which
enclosed another a size smaller, and that a littler one that would
just fit into it, and so on till she came to one about the size of

LOST AT SEA.

227

nn ol(l-fiii»hionc(l cofTfe-rup. Tlipy are cnllt'<l n no»t of boxen.
The inner one contained a little horu thing that looked like a
pill-box, and that had a ehann in it.

It woB a portion of the noil of St Franei<i'i4 bij» too, 'which
never failed to work a cure on them who believed in it. ISho
Baid ulie bought it from a French j)riHoner, who had deserted
from Melville Inland, at Halifax, during the last war. She gave
liim a suit of clothes, two shirts, six pair of stockings, and eight
tlollars ibr it. The box was only a bit of bone, and not worthy
of the Bocred relic, but she couldn't allbrd to get a gold one
for it.

*' Poor St Croix," she said, " I shall never see liim again,
lie hud great laming ; he could boih read and write. When
he sold me that holy thing, he said :

"'Madam, I am afraid something dreodful will happen to
me before long for selling that relic. When danger and trouble
come, where will be my chann then ?*

" AVell, sure enough, two nights after (it was a very dark
night) the dogs barked dreadful, and in the morning Peter La
Koue, when he got up, saw his father's head on the gate-post,
grinnin' at him, and his daughter Annie's handkerchief tied over
his crown and down under his chin. And St Croix was gone,
and Annie was in a trance, and the priest's desk was gone, with
two hundred pounds of money in it ; and old Jodrie's ram had a
saddle and bridle on, and was tied to a gate of the widow of
Justine Robisheau, that was drowned in a well at Halifax ; and
Simon Como's boat put off to sea of itself, and was no more
heard of. Oh, it was a terrible night, and poor St Croix,
people felt very sorry for him, and for Annie La Eoue, who
slept two whole days and nights before she woke up. She had
all her father's money in her room that night ; but they searched
day after day and never found it."

AVell, I didn't undeceive her. What's the use ? Master St
Croix was an old privateers-man. He had drugged La Roue's
daughter to rob her of her money ; had stolen two hundred
pounds from the priest, and Como's boat, and sold the eld lady
a piece of his toe-nail for eight or ten pounds' worth in all. /
never shake the faith of an ignorant person. Suppose they do
believe too much, it is safer than believing too little. You may
make them give up their creed, but they ain't always quite so
willing to take your's. It is easier to make an injidel than a
convert. So I just let folks be, and suffer tbem to skin their
own eels.

After that she took to papng me compliments on my
French, and I complimented ner on her good looks, and she

'.•fiii'lRI LJkJK'JiJ. ULIDIUK JHPWftU

228

LOST AT SEA.

ronft'HHi'd hIio was vory ImndHomo when ulio wns votinj;, nnd all
tlu; men wrn; in lovo with her, and ho on. Wdl, nvIicm 1 wa8
nbuut Htartin', I in(|uin'(l what uho had to hcII in the catin' line.

" K:,'i;» and fiHJi," »ho said, "wore all »he had in the house."

On examining; the barrel containing the t'onner, 1 found a
white-lookin', taMteleHS powder among them.

" What'Hthat?" said I.

Well, Hhe told me what it was (pulverised gypHUin), and
Raid, " Jt would keep them sweet and fresh for three months at
least, atid she didn't know but more."

So 1 put my hand away down into tiie barrel and pulled out
two, and that layer she said was thre i months old. I held them
to the light, and they were as clear as if laid yesterday.

" Boil them," sais I, and she did so ; and 1 nmst say it was
a wrinkle I didn't expect to pick up at such a place as that, for
nothing could be freslier.

" Here is a dollar," said I, "for that receipt, for it's worth
knowing, I can tell you."

" Now," thinks 1, as I took my seat ogain, " T will try and
see if this French gall can talk Euglish." I asked her, but she
shook h.r head.

So CO prove her, sais I, " Doctor, ain't she a beauty, that ?
See what lovely eyes she has, and magnificent hair! Oh, if she
was well got up, and fashionably dressed, wouldn't siie be a
sneeziT ? What beautiful little hands and feet she has ! I won-
der if she would marry me, seein' I am an orthodox man."

Well, she never moved a muscle ; she kept her eyes fixed on
her work, and there wasn't the leastest mite of a smile on her
face. I kinder sorter thought her head was rather more station-
ary, if anything, as if she was listening, and her eyes more fixed,
as if she was all attention ; but she had dropped a stitch in her
knitting, and was taking of it up, so perhaps 1 might be mis-
taken. Thinks I, I will try you on t'other tack.

"Doctor, how would you like to kiss her, eh ? Kipe-looking
lips them, ain't they ? Well, I wouldn't kiss her for the world,"
said I ; " I would just as soon think of kissing a ham that is
covered with creosote. There is so much ile and smoke on 'em,
I should have the taste in my mouth for a week. Phew I I
think I taste it now 1 "

She coloured a little at that, and pretty soon got up and
went out of the room ; and presently I heard her washing her
hands and face like anything,

Thinks I, "You sly fox! you know English well enough
to kiss in it anyhow, if you can't talk in it easy. I thought
I'de fiuud you out ; for a gall that won't laugh wlien you tickle

LOST AT StLV.

220

luT. cnn'f lii'lp Hcrcainin' n littlo when you pinch her; tlmfn a
fnct," She n'turiu-d in a low niinutos (juito n iliflVri'ut lookin'
ptTHon, and rr«unn'(l \wr usual einployinont, but still pon'iHtod
that she did not know Kiij,'iiHh. In tho midnt of our convors-
ntion, tlu' nuiMtorot'tho house, Jerome Houdrot, came in. Like
most of tho imtiveH of Chcsencook, he was short iu stature, but
very active, and like all the rest a ^reat talker.

"Ah, t^enth'men," he said, "y<m follow de sen, eh?"

" No," sais I, *' tho sea often follows us, especially when the
wind is fair."

"True, true," ho said; "I forget dat. It followed me ono
time. Oh, I was wunst lost at sea; and it's an awful feelin'.
I was out of sight of land one whole day, all night, and eetle
piece of next day. Oh, I was proper frightened. It was all
sea and sky, and big wave, and no land, and none of us knew
our way back." And he opened his eyes as if the very recol-
lection of his danger alanned him. " At last big ship came by,
and hailed her, and ask :

" * My name is Jerry Boudrot ; where am I ? '

" * Aboard of your own vessel,' said they ; and they laughed
like anything, and left us.

" Well, towards night we were overtaken by Yankee vessel,
and I say, ' jNIy name is Jerry Boudrot ; where am I ? *

" • Thar,* said the sarcy "i ankee captain, * and if you get this
far, you will be here ; ' and they laughed at me, and I swore at
them, and called 'em all manner of names.

" Well, then I was proper frightened, and I gave myself up
for lost, and I was so sorry I hadn't put my deed of my land
on recor, and that I never got pay for naif a cord of wood I sold
a woman, who nevare return agin, last time I was to Halifax ;
and Esadore Terrio owe me two shillings and sixpence, and I
got no note of hand for it, and I lend my ox-cart lor one day to
Martell Baban, and he will keep it for a week, and wear it out,
and my wife marry again as sure as de world. Oh, I was very
scare and prepare sorry, you may depend, when presently great
big English snip come by, and I hail her.

"'My name is Jerry Boudrot,' sais I, 'when did you see
land last ? '

" * Thirty days ago,' said the captain.

" * Where am I ? ' sais I.

"'In 4J<° 40' north,' said he, 'and 63° 40' west,' as near as
I could hear him.

" ' And what country is dat are ? ' said I. * My name is
Jerry Boudrot.'

" ' Where are you bound ? ' said he.

I i

230

LOST AT SELV.

i. '■ '

" * Home,'* said I.

" * Well,' said he, * at this season of the year you shall make
de run in twenty-five day. A pleasant passage to you ! ' and
away he went.

" Oh, I was plague scared ; for it is a dreadful thing to be
lost at sea.

" ' Twenty-five days,* said I, * afore we get home ! Oh, mon
Dieu ! oh dear ! we shall all starve to death ; and what is worse,
die first. What provision have we, boys ? *

" * Well,' sais they, * we counted, and we have two figs of
tobacco, and six loaf baker's bread (for the priest), two feet of
wood, three matches, and five gallons of water, and one pipe
among us all.' Three matches and five gallons of water! On, I
was so sorry to lose my life, and wha^ was wus, I had my best
clothes on bord.

" * Oh, boys, we are out of sight of land now,' sais I, ' and
what is wus, may be we go so far we get out sight of de sun too,
where is dark like down cellar. Oh, it's a shocking ting to be
lost at sea. Oh, people lose deir way dere so bad, sometimes
dey nevare return no more. Foople that's lost in de wood dey
come back if dey live, but them that's lost at sea nevare. Oh,
I was damn scared. Oh, mon Dieu ! what is 44° 40' noi fch and
63° 40' west ? Is dat de conetry were people who are lost at
sea go to ? Boys, is there any rum on board r" and they said there
was a bottle for the old lady's rheumatis. 'Well, hand it up,' sais
I, ' and if ever you get back tell her it was lost at sea, and has
gone to 44° 40' north and G3° 40' west. Oh, dear, dis all comes
from going out of sight of land.'

" Oh, I was vary dry you may depend ; I was so scared at
being lost at sea that way, my lips stuck together like the sole
and upper-leather of a slioe. And when I took down the b">ttle
to draw breath, the boys took it away, as it was all we had. Oh,
it set my mouth afire, it was made to warm outside and not in-
side. Dere was brimstone, and camphor, and eetk red pepper,
and turpentene in it. Vary hot, vary nasty, and vary trong, and
it made me sea-sick, and I gave up my dinner, for I could not
hole him no longer, he jump so m de stomach, and what was
wus, I had so little for anoder meal. Fust I lose my way, den
I lose my sense, den I lose my dinner, and what is wus I lose
myself to sea. Oh, I repent vary mush of my sin in going out
of sight of land. Well, I lights my pipe and walks up and down,
and presently the sun comes out quite bright.

" ' Well, dat sun,' sais I, ' boys, sets every night behind my
barn in the big swamp, somewhere about the Hemlock Grove.
* .Ul colonists coll England " home."

LOST AT SEA.

231

"Well, dat is 63^ 40' west I suppose. And it rises a few miles
to the eastward of that barn, sometimes out of a fog bank, and
sometimes out o' the water; well that is •il"' 4fO' north, which is
all but east I suppose. Now, if we steer west we will see our
barn, but steering eaa*' is being lost at sea, for in time you would
be behind de sun.'

" AVell, we didn't sleep much dat night, you may depend, but
we prayed a great deal, and we talked a great deal, and I was so
cussed seared I did not know what to do. Well, morning came
and still no land, and I began to get diablement feared again.
Every two or tree minutes I run up de riggin' and look out,
but couldn't see notin'. At last I went down to my trunk, for
I had bottle there for my rheumatics too, only no nasty stuff in
it, that the boys didn't know of, and I took very long draught,
I was so seared ; and then I went on deck and up de riggin*
again.

" ' Boys,' sais I, * there's the barn. That's 63° 40' west. I
toxv. you so.' "Well, when I came down I went on my knees,
and I vowed as long as I lived I would hug as tight and close
as ever I could."

" Your wife ? " sais I.

" Pooh, no," said he, turning round contemptuously towards
her ; " hug her, eh ! why, she has got the rheumatiz, and her
tongue is in mourning for her teeth. No, hug the shore, man,
hug it so close as posseeble, and nevare lose sight of land for
fear of being lost at sea."

The "^Id woman perceiving that Jerry had been making some
joke at her expense, asked the girl the meaning of it, when she
rose, and seizing his cap and boxing his ears with it, right and
left, asked what he meant by wearing it before gentlemen, and
then poured out a torrent of abuse on him, with such volubility
I was unable to follow it.

Jerry sneaked off, and set in the comer near his daughter,
afraid to speak, and the old woman took her chair again, unable
to do so. There was a truce and a calm, so to change the con-
versation, sais I :

" Sorrow, take the rifle and go and see if there is a Jesuit-
priest about here, and if there is shoot him, and take him on
board and cook him."

" Oh, Massa Sam," said he, and he opened his eyes and
goggled like an owl awfully frightened. " Goody gracious me,
now you is joking, isn't you ? I is sure you is. You wouldn't
now, Massa, you wouldn't make dis child do murder, would you ?
Oh, Massa ! ! kill de poor priest who nebber did no harm in all
his born days, and him hab no wife and child to follow him to — "

232

LOST AT SEA.

" The pot," sals I, " oh, yes, if they ask me arter him I will
say he is ^oae to pot."

" Oh, Massa, now you is funnin , am't you ? " and he tried
to force a laugh. *' How in de world under de canopy ob heb-
bin must de priest be cooked ? "

" Cut his head and feet off," sais I, " break his thighs short,
close up to the stumps, bend 'em up his side, ram him into the
pot pnd stew him with ham and vegetables. Lick! a Jesuit-
priest is delicious done that way."

The girl dropped her cards on her knees and looked at me
with intense anxiety. She seemed quite handsome, I do actilly
believe if she was put into a tub and washed, laid out on the
grass a few nights with her face up to bleach it, her great yarn
petticoats hauled off and proper ones put on, and her head and
feet dressed right, she'd beat the Blue-nose galls for beauty out
and out ; but that is neither here nor there, those that want
white faces must wash them, and those that want white floors
must scrub them, it's enough for me that they are white, with-
out my making them so. Well, she looked all eyes and ears.
Jerry's uuder-jaw dropped, Cutler was flabbergasted, and the
doctor looked as if he thought, " Well, what are you at now ? "
while tlie old woman appeared anxious enough to give her whole
barrel of eggs to know what was going on.

" Oh, Massa," said Sorrow, " dis here child can't have no hand
in it. De priest will pyson you, to a dead sartainty. If he was
baked he mout do. In Africa dey is hannibals and eat dere
prisoners, but den dey bake or roast 'em, but stew him, Massa !
by golly he will pyson you, as sure as 'postles. My dear ole
missus died from only eaten hogs wid dere heads on."

"Hogs!" said I.

" Yes, Massa, in course, hogs wid dere heads on. Oh, she
was a most a beautiful cook, but she wa.j fizzled out by bad
cookery at de last."

"You black villain," said I, "do you mean to say your
mistress ever eat whole hogs ?"

" Yes, Massa, in course I do, but it was abbin' dere heads on
fixed her flint for her."

" What an awful liar you are. Sorrow ! "

" 'Pon my sacred word and honour, Massa," he said, "I stake
my testament oat on it ; does you tink dis here child now would
swear to a lie ? true as preachin', Sar."

" G-o on," said I, " I like to see a fellow go the whole ani-
mal while he is about it. How many did it take to kill her ? "

" Well, Massa, she told me herself, on her def bed, she didn't
eat no more uor ten or a dozen hogs, but she didn't blame dem,

LOST AT SEA.

233

it was havin' dere heads on did all the mischief. I was away
when dey was cooked, or it wouldn't a happened. I was down
to Charleston Bank to draw six hundred aollare for her, and
when I came back she sent for me. ' Sorrow, ' sais she,
* Plutarch has poisoned me.'

" * Oh, de biack villain', sais I, * Missus, I will tye him to a
tree and bum him.'

" ' No, no,' she said, ' I will return good for ebil. Send for
llev. Mr Hominy, and Mr Succatash, de Yankee oberseer, and
tell my poor granny Chloe her ole missus is dyin', and to come
back, hot foot, and bring Plutarch, for my disgestion is all
gone.' AVell, when Plutarch came she said, * Plue, my child,
you have killed your missus by cooking de hogs wid dere heads
on, but I won't punish you, I is intendin' to extinguish you by
kindness among de plantation niggers. I will heap coals of firo
on your head.'

" ' Dat'a right, Missus,' sais I, ' bum the villain up, but bum
him with green wood so as to make slow fire, dat's de ticket.
Missus, it sarves him right.'

" Oh, if you eber heard yellin', Massa, you'd a heard it den.
Plue he trowed himself down on de ground, and he rolled and
he kicked and he screamed like mad.

" ' Don't make a noise, Plutarch,' said she, ' I can't stand it.
I isn't a goin' to put you to def. You shall lib. I will gib you
a wife.'

" ' Oh, tankee. Missus,' said he, * oh, I will pray for you
night and day, when I ain't at work or asleep, for eber and
eber. Amen.'

" * You shall ab Cloe for a wife.'

" Cloe, Massa, was seventy -five, if she was one blessed second
old. She was crippled with rheumatis, and walked on crutches,
and hadn't a tooth in her head. She was just doubled up like a
tall nigger in a short bed.

" ' Oh, Lord, Missus,' said Plutarch, * hab mercy on dis
sinner, O dear Missus, O lubly Missus, oh hab mercy on dis
child.'

" ' Tankee, Missus,' said Cloe. * God bless you. Missus, T is
quite appy now. I is a leetle too young for dat spark, for I is
cuttin' a new E,et o' teeth now, and ab suffered from teeth in'
most amazin', but I will make him a lubin' wife. Don't be shy,
Mr Plue,' said she, and she up wid one ob her crutches and
gub him a poke in de ribs dat made him grunt like a pig.
' Come, tand up,' said she, * till de parson tie de knot round
your neck.'

" ' Oh ! Lord, Missus,' said he, * ab massy !' But de parson

234

LOST AT SEA.

married 'em, and said, * Slute your bride ! ' but he didn't
move.

" * He is so bashful,' said Cloe, takin' him round de neck
and kissin' ob him. * Oh, Missus!* she said, * I is so proud ob
my bridegroom — he do look so genteel wid ole massa's frill
shirt on, don't he ? '

" "When dey went out o' de room into de entry, Cloe fotched
him a crack ober his pate with her crutch that sounded like
a cocoa-nut, it was so hollow.

" * Take dat,' said she, ' for not slutin' cb your bride, you
good-for-nottin' onmanerly scallawag you.'

" Poor dear missus ! she died dat identical night."

" Come here, Sorrow," said I ; " come and look me in the
face."

The moment he advanced, Jerry slipt across the room, and
tried to hide behind the tongues near his wife. He was terrified
to death. " Do you mean to say," said I, " she died of going
the whole hou: r Was it a hog — tell me the truth ? "

" Well, IVrassa," said Le, " I don't know tc a zact sartainty,
for I was not dei« when stiC v»i4S tooked ill, — I was at de bank
at de time, — but I will take my davy it was hogs or dogs.
I wont just zackly sartify which, because she was 'mazin' fond
of both ; but I will swear it was one or toder, and dat dey was
cooked wid dere heads on — dat I will stificate to tQl I die !"

"Hogs or dogs," said I, "whole, with their heads on — do
you niveau that?"

" Yes, Massa, dis here child do, of a sartainty."

" Hogs like the pig, and dogs like the Newfoundlander at
the door?"

" Oh, no, Massa, in course it don't stand to argument ob
reason it was. Oh, no, it was quadogs and quahogs — clams, you
know. We calls 'em down South, for shortness, hogs and dogs.
Oh, Massa, in course you knows dat — I is sure you does — you
is only intendin' on puppose to make game of dis here nigger,
isn't you?"

" xou villain," said I, " you took a rise out of me that time,
at any rate. It ain't often any feller does that, so I think you
deserve a glass of the old Jamaiky for it when we go on. board.
Now go and shoot a Jesuit-priest if you see one.

The gall explained the order to her mother.

" Shoot the priest ?" said she, in French.

" Shoot the priest," said Jerry; " shoot me !" And he popped
down behind his wife, as if he had no objection to her recei^dng
the ball first.

She ran to her chest, and got out the little horn box with

LOST AT SE.V.

235

tlie nail of St Francis, and looked determined to die at her post.
Sorrow deposited the gun in the comer, hung down his head,
and said :

" Dis here child, Massa Slick, can't do no murder."

" Then I must do it myself," said I, rising and proceeding
to get my rifle.

"Slick," said the doctor, "what the devil do you mean?"

" "Why," says I, a settin' dowTi again, " I'll tell you. Jesuit-
priests were first seen in Spain and Portugal, where tiiey are
very fond of them. I have often eaten them there."

" First seen in Spain and Portugal!" he replied. "You are
out there — but go on."

" There is a man," said I, " in Yorkshire, who says his an-
cestor brought the first over from America, when he accom-
panied Cabot in his voyages, and he has one as a crest. But
that is all bunkum. Cabot never saw one."

" What in the world do you call a Jesuit-priest ? "

"Why a turkey to be sure," said I ; "that's what they call
them at Madrid and Lisbon, after the Jesuits who first intro-
duced them into Europe."

" My goody gracious!" said Sorrow, "if that ain't fun alive
it's a pity, that's all."

" Well," said Jerry, " I was lost at sea that time ; I was
out of sight of land. It puzzled me like 44° north, and Q3°'
40' west."

"Hogs, dogs, and Jesuit-priests!" said the doctor, and off
he set again, with his hands on his sides, rushing round the
room in convulsions of laughter.

" The priest," said I to the old woman, " has given him a
pain in his stomach," when she ran to the dresser again, and
got the cup of soot for him which had not yet been emptied.

"Oh dear!" said he, "I can't stand that; oh. Slick, ttu
will be the death of me yet," and he bolted out of the house.

Having purchased a bushel of clams from the old lady, and
bid her and her daughter good-bye, we vamosed the ranche.* At
the door I saw a noble gobbler.

" What will you take for that Jesuit-priest," said I, " Jerry ? "

" Seven and sixpence," said he.

" Done," said I, and his head was perforated with a ball in
an instant.

The dog unused to such a sound from his master's house,
and recollecting the damage he received from the fall of the doc-

♦ One of the numerous corruptions of Spanish words introduced into the
States since the Mexican war, and signifies to quit the house or shanty. Ilancho
designates a hut, covered with branches, where herdsmen temporarily reside.

230

LOST AT SEA.

tor, Hot ofl' wifli the most piteous howls that ever were heard,
and fled for sufety — the pij;s squealed as if they liad eacli been
wounded — and the geese joined in the general uprnar — while
old Madam Boudrot and her daughter rushed sereauiing to the
door to ascertain what these dreadful men were about, who talk-
ed of shooting priests, and eating hogs and dogs entire with
their heads on. It was some time before order was restored,
and when Jerry went into the house to light his pipe and de-
posit his money, I called Cutler's attention to the action and
style of a horse in the pasture whom my gun had alarmed.

"That animal," said I, " must have (dropped from the clouds.
If he is young and sound, and he moves as if he were both, he
is worth six hundred dollars. I must have him ; can you give
him a passage till we meet one of our large coal ships coming
from Pictou ? "

" Certainly," said he.

"Jerry," sais I, when he returned, "what in the world do
ou keep such a fly-away devil as that for ? why don't you sell
im and buy cattle ? Can't you sell him at Halifax ? "

" Oh ! " said he, " I can't go there now no more, Mr Slick.
The boys call after me and say : Jerry, when did you see land
last ? My name is Jerry Boudrot, where am I ? Jerry, I thought
you was lost at sea ! Jerry, has your colt got any slippares on
yet (shoes) ? Jerry, what does 44 — 40 mean ? Oh ! I can't
stand it ! "

" Why don't you send him by a neighbour ? "

" Oh ! none o my neighbours can ride him. "We can't break
him. We are fishermen, not horsemen."

" Where did he come from ? "

" The priest brought a mare from Canada with him, and
tnis is her colt. He gave it to me when I returned from being
lost at sea, he was so glad to see me. I wish you would buy him,
Mr Slick ; you will have him cheap ; I can't do noting with
him, and no fence shall stop him."

" What the plague," sais I, " do you suppose I want of a
horse on board ot a ship ? do you w^ant me to be lost at sea too ?
and besides, if I did try to oblige you," said I, " and offered you
five pounds for that devil nobody can ride, and no fence stop,
you'd ask seven pound ten right off". Wow, that turkey was
not worth a dollar here, and you asked at once seven and six-
pence. Nobody can trade with you, you are so everlasting
sharp. If you was lost at sea, you know your way by land, at
all events."

" AVell," sais he, " say seven pounds ten, and you will have
him."

LOST AT SEA.

237

" Oh ! of course," said I, " there is capital pasture on board
of a vessel, aiu't there ? Where am I to get hay till 1 send him
home?"

" I will give you tree hundredweight into the bargain."
•' Well," sais I, " let's look at him ; can you catch him ? "
He went into the house, and bringing out a pan of oats, and
calling him, the horse followed him into the stable, where he
was secured. I soon ascertained he was perl'ectly sound, and
that he was an uncommonly tine animal. I sent Sorrow on
board for my saddle and bridle, whip and spurs, and desired
that the vessel might be warped into the wliarf. When the
negro returned, I repeated the terms of the bargain to Jerry,
which being assented to, the animal was brought out into the
centre of the field, and while his owner was talking to him, I
vaulted into the saddle. At first he seemed very much alarmed,
snorting and blowing violently ; he then bounded forward and
lashed out with his hind feet most furiously, which was suc-
ceeded by alternate rearing, kicking, and backing. I don't think
I ever see a critter splurge so badly ; at last he ran the whole
length of the field, occasionally throwing up his heels very high
in the air, and returned unwillingly, stopping every few minutes
and plunging outrageously. On the second trial he again ran,
and for the first time I gave him both whip and spur, and made
him tfike the fence, and in returning I pushed him in the same
manner, making him take the leap as before. Though awkward
and ignorant of the meaning of the rein, the animal knew he
was in the hands of a power superior to his own, and submitted
far more easily than I expected.

When we arrived at the wliarf, I removed the saddle, and
placing a strong rope round his neck, had it attached to the
windlass, not to drag him on board, but to make him feel if he
refused to advance that he was powerless to resist, an indispens-
able precaution in breaking horses. Once and once only he
attempted escape ; he reared and threw himself, but finding the
strain irresistible, he yielded and went on board quietly. Jerry
was as delighted to get rid of him as I was to purchase him, and
though I knew that seven pounds ten was as much as he could
ever realize out of him, I felt I ought to pay him for the hay,
and also that I could weU afford to give him a little conciliation
present ; so I gave him two barrels of flour in addition, to en-
able him to make his peace with his wife, whom he had so
grossly insulted by asserting that his vow to heaven was to hug
the shore hereafter, and had no reference to her. If I ain't
mistaken, Jerry Boudrot, for so I have na,med the animal after
him, win astonish the folks to tSlickville ; for of all the horses

23S

IIOIJJINO UP THE MIKROR.

on this continent, to my mind, the real ^-jiuine Canadian is tho
best by all odds.

"Ah! m^ friend," said Jerry, addressing the hoise, "you
shall soon be out of sight of land, like your master j but unlike
him, 1 hope you shall never be lost at sea."

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOLDING TJl? THE MIBBOB.

Feom Halifax to Cumberland, Squire, the eastern coast of
Nova Scotia presents more harbours fit for the entrance of men-
of-war than the whole Atlantic coast of our country from Maiie
to Mexico. No part of the world I am acquainted with is so 'veil
supplied and so little frequented. They are "thar," as we say,
but where are the large ships ? growing in the forest I guess.
And the large towns ? all got to be built I reckon. And the mines ?
why wanting to be worked. And the fisheries ? Well, I'U tell
you, if you will promise not to let on about it. We are going to
nave them by treaty, as we now have them by trespass. Fact is,
we treat with the British and the Indians in the same way. Bully
them if we can, and when that vron't do, get the most valuable
things they have in exchange for t; ash, like glass beads and wooden
clocks. StiU, Squire, there is a vast improvement here, though I
won't say there ain't room for more ; but there is such a change
come over the people, as is quite astonishing. The Blue-nose of
1834 is no longer the Blue-nose of 1854. He is more active, more
industrious, and more enterprising. Intelligent the critter al-
ways was, but unfortunately he was lazy. He was asleep then,
now he is wide awake, and up and doing. He never had no
occasion to be ashamed to show himself, for he is a good-looking
feller, but he needn't now be no longer skeered to answer to
his name, when the muster is come and his'n is called out in
the roll, and say, " Here am I, Sirree" A new generation has
sprung up, some of the drones are still about the hive, but there
is a young vigorous race coming on who will keep pace with the
age.

It's a great thing to have a good glass to look in now and
then and see yourself. They have had the mirror held up to
them.

Lord, I shall never forget when I was up to Eawdon here

HOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

2no

oiice, a countryman came to the inn where I was, to pay me for
a clock I had put ofF on him, and as I was a pasHin' through
the entry I saw the critter standin' before the glass, awfully
horrified.

" My good gracious," said he, a talking to himself, " my good
gracious, is this you, John Smiler P I havn't seen you before now
going on twenty years. Oh, how shockingly you are altered, I
fihouldn't a known you, I declare."

Now, I have held the mirror to these fellows to see them-
selves in, and it has scared them so they have shaved slick up,
and made themselves look decent. I won't say I made all the
changes myself, for Providence scourged them into activity, by
sending the weavel into their wheat-fields, the rot into their po-
tatoes, and the drought into their hay crops. It made them
scratch round, I tell you, so as to earn their grub, and the exer-
tion did them good. Well, the blisters 1 have put on their van-
ity stung em so, they jumped high enough to see the right road,
and the way they travel ahead now is a caution to snails.

Now, if it was you who had done your country this sarviee,
you would have spoke as mealy-mouthed of it as if butter wouldn't
melt in it. " I flatter myself," you would have said, " I had some
little small share in it." " I have lent my feeble aid." " I have
contributed my poor mite," and so on, and looked as meek and
felt as proud as a Pharisee. Now, that's not my way. I hold
up the mirror, whether when folks see themselves in it they see
me there or not. The value of a glass is its truth. And where
colonists have suflfered is from false reports, ignorance, and mis-
representation. There is not a word said of them that can be
depended on. Missionary returns of all kinds arc coloured and
doctored to suit English subscribing palates, and it's a pity they
should stand at the head of the list. British travellers distort
things the same way. They land at Halifax, where they see the
first contrast between Europe and America, and that contrast
ain't favourable, for the town is dingy lookin' and wants paint,
and the land round it is poor and stony. But that is enough,
so they set down and abuse the whole country, stock and fluke,
and wTite as wise about it as if they had seen it all instead of
overlooking one mile from the deck of a steamer. The military
enjoy it beyond anything, and are lar more comfortable than in
soldiering in England ; but it don't do to say so, for it counts
for foreign service, and like the witnesses at the court-marshall
at "Windsor, every feller sais, Non mi ricordo. Governors who
now-a-days have nothing to do, have plenty of leisure to write,
and their sufferings are such, their pens are inadequate to the
task. They are very much to be pitied.

^'r.i

r I
I I

210

HOLDING UP THE MIKBOR.

'Wl•l^ cnloiiints on tho other hand «fihh>m get their no<<Pfl out
of it. But it' provimMnIs do nowutul tluMi como up on tho otlvr
side of tiu! bi^j pond, like deep Bea-lisli ritiin^ to the Hurfuce, they
spout and blow like porpoises, and try to look as larj^e as whales,
and people only laugh at them. Navy olfieers extol the harbour
and the market, and the kindness and hospitality of the Uali<xo-
nians, but that is all they know, and ns far as that goes they
spe.ik tho truth. It wants an impartial friend like me to hold
up the mirror, both for their sakes and tho Downing Street of-
ficials too. Is it any wonder then that the English don't know
what they are talking about ? Did you ever hear of the devil's
advocate 'i a nlv^kname I gave to one of the understrappers of the
Colonial office, an ear murk that will stick to tho feller for ever!
AVell, when they go to make a saint at Home, and canonize some
one who has been dead oo long ho is in danger of being forgot,
the cardinals hold a sort of court-martial on him, and a man is
appointed to rake and scrape all he can agin him, and they listen
very patiently to all he has to say, so as not to do things in a
hurry. He is called '*the devil's advocate," but he never gained
a cause yet. The same form used to be gone through at Down-
ing Street, by an underling, but he always* gained his point. The
nickname of the " devil's advocate " that I gave him did his busi-
ness for him, he is no longer there now.

The British cabinet wants she mirror held up to them, to
show therr how they look to others. Now, when an order is
transmitted by a minister of the crown, as was done last war, to
send all Yankee prisoners to the fortress of Louisburg for safe
keeping, when that fortress more than sixty years before had
been effectually razed from the face of the earth by engineer of-
ficers sent from England for the purpose, why it is natural a co-
lonist should laugh, and say Capital ! only it is a little too good ;
and when another minister says, ho can't find good men to be
governors, in order to defend appointments that his own party
say are too had, what language is strong enough to express his
indignation? Had he said openly and manly. We are so situated,
and so bound by parliamentary obligations, we not only have to
pass over the whole body of provincials themselves, who have the
most interest and are best informed in colonial matters, but we
have to appoint some people like those to whom you object, who
are forced upon us by nollerin' their daylights out for us at elec-
tions, when we would gladly select others, who are wholly un-
exceptionable, and their name is legion ; why, he would have pi-
tied his condition, and admired his manliness. If this sweeping
charge be true, what an encomium it is upon the Dalhousies, the
Gosfords, the Durhams, Sydcnhams, Metcalfs, and Elgins, that

HOLDING UP Tin: MIRUOK.

y ^^'

vepi-
eping
58, the
that

they were cluiscu b»mu8(» HuitaMt* men could not be found if
not Hiipj)ortrd by party. All that can bo Haid tor a tuiiiistrr who
talks Hiicli Htiilt, JH that a inatiwlic knows ko liltltM)!' London nn
to be unaldt! to find the Hliortc«t way home, may easdy lose
hiinHcH'in the wihJH of Canada.

Now we li«'kcd the liritish when wo bad only three millions
of people includiiiij ni«;i;ers, who are about as much use in a war
fiM crowH that teed on the ulain, but dont help to kill 'em. We
hav(« "run up" an empire, a« we nay of a "wooden house," or
UH the ^'all who was ns..ed where she was raised, t^aid " She warn't
raised, she f^rowed up." We have shot up into manhood afore
Oi r beards j;rew,and have made a nation that ain't afeard of all
creation. Where will you find a nation like ours? Answer me
t!mt question, but don't reply as an Irishman does by repeating
it, — "Is it where I will find one, your Honour F"

Minister used to talk ot some old chap, that killed a dragon
and planted his teeth, and armed men sprung up. As soon as
we whii)j)ed the Hritisb we sowed their teeth, and full-growu
coons grovved right out of the earth. Lord bless you, we have
fellows like Crocket, that would sneeze a man-of-war right out
of the water.

We have aright to brag, in fact it ain't braggin', its talking
liistory, and cramming statistics down a fellow's throat, and if
he wants tables to set down to, and study them, there's the old
chairs of the governors of the thirteen united universal worlds
of the old States, besides the rough ones of the new States to sit
on, and canvas-back ducks, blue-point oysters, and, as Sorrow
says, " hogs and dogs," for soup and pies, for refreshment from
labour, as Freemasons say. Brag is a good dog, and Holdfast ia
a better one, but what do you say to a cross of the two? — and
that's just what we are. An English statesman actually thinks
nobody knows anything but himself. And his conduct puts folks
both on the defensive and offensive. He eyes even an American
all over as much as to say, AVhere the plague did you originate,
what field of cotton or tobacco was you took from ? and if a
Canadian goes to Downing Street, the secretary starts as much
as to say, 1 hope you han't got one o' tbeni rotten eggs in your
hand you pelted Elgin witli. Upon my soul, it wern't my
fault, his indemnifyin' rebels, we never encourage traitors ex-
cept in Spain, Sicily, Hungary, and places we have nothin' to
do with. He brags of purity as much as a dirty piece of i)aper
does, that it was originally clean.

" We appreciate your loyalty most fully, I assure you," he
says. " When the militia put down the rebellion, without eflB-
eieut aid from the military, parliament would have passed a vote

212

HOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

of tlmnl*H to you for your drvotion io our cnuHc, hut ronllv \v««
Men' HO huHy juHt then we forgot it. Put that t'^K in your
jHH'kt't, tImt'M a j;oo(l frllow, but don't sot down on it. «»r it nii^lit
Htain the chair, and folkH nii^ht think you was frightrncd at
Bi'oin^' HO bi^ a man aH me;" and then he would turn round to
the window and iau^h.

AVhoever bra^H over me gets the worst of it, tbat's a fact.
Lord, 1 nhall never forget a rise I once took out of one of these
magnetized olfieials, who know all about the colonies, tho' he
never saw one. 1 don't want any man to call me coward, and
say 1 won't take it ])ar8onal. There was a complaint made by
Bomo of our folks against the people of the Lower provinces
seizing our coasters under pretence tht>y were intrudin' on the
lisiieries. Our embassador was laid up at the time with rlu .
matism, which he called gout, because it sounded diplomatic.
So says he, " Slick, take this letter and deliver it to the minister,
and give him some verbal explanations."

AVell, down 1 goes, was announced and ushered in, and when
he saw me, he looked me all over as a tailor does a man before
he takes his measure. It made me hoppin' mad I tell you, for
in a general wry I don't allow any man to turn up his nose at
me without having a shot at it. So when I sat down I spit into
the fire, in a way to put it out amost, and he drew back and
made a face, a leettle, just a leettle uglier than his natural one
■was.

"Bad habit," sais I, "that of spittin', ain't it?" lookin' up
at him as innocent as you please, and makin' a face exactly
like his.

" Very," said he, and he gave a shudder.

Sais 1, " I don't know whether you are aware of it or not,
but most bad habits are catching."

" 1 should hope not," said he, and he drew a little further
off.

" Fact," sais T ; " now if you look long and often .it a man
that winks, it sets you a winkin'. If jou see a fellow with a
twitch in his face, you feel your cheek doin' the same, and
Btammerin' is catching too. Now I oaug'it that habit at court,
since I came to Europe. I dined wunst with the King of Prus-
sia, when I was with our embassador on a visit at Berlin, and
the King beats all natiu* in spittin', ar.d the noise he makes
aforehand is like clearin' a grate out with a poker, it's homd.
Well, that's not the worst of it, he uses that ugly German word
for it, that vulgarians translate * spitting.' Now some of our
western people are compelled to chew a little tobacco, but like
a broker tasting cheese, when testing wine, it is only done to be

IIOLDIXO LT THE MIUKOK.

oi-

t.)

a.h\v to jiul^'o of the (}imlity of tlu» nrtiolr, but I'vrii them un»o-
j»lii»tirat<»(l, tn*»*, luul »'iilij;htt'iu'tl citi/.riiH Imvr iiii iimatf rrlliu'-
int'ut about tlu-in. Tlu'V lu-vt-r n»v that luinty wnnl 'H^^ittill^,'
but fall it 'exprt'Hsinf; theariibia.' Wt'll, wImmh-vit Ins Majowty
croHst'H my mind, 1 do the suino out of I'h'arBhetT ili>«;,'ut4t. Some
o' iheiM sort of upiuTiTUHt people, 1 eall them big bugn, think
they eau do a« tijey like, and use the privilege of in«lulging

tlume evil habits. When folks like

the pnvii
i the kiui:

do it, 1 eall them

* High, low, jaek, and tlie game.' "

Well, the Htare he gave mo would have made you die a lar-
fin'. 1 never saw a man in my life look «o skeywonaky. Ilo
knew it was true that the king had that eustom, and it dumb-
foundered him. Ho looked at me as mueh as to say, " Well,
that is eapital; the idea of a Yankee, who spits like a garden-
engine, swearing it's a bad habit he lamed in Europe, and a
trick he got from dining with a king, is the richest thing i ever
heard in my life. I must tell that to Palmerston."

13ut I diibi't let him otl" so easy, lu the course of talk,
sais he :

" Mr Slick, is it true that in South Carolina, if a free nig-
ger, on board of one of our vessels, lands tiiere, he is put into
jail until the ship sails?" and he looked good, as much as to
say, "Thank heaven 1 ain't like that republican."

" It is," said I. " We consider a free nigger and a free
Englishman on a parr ; we imprison a free black, lest he should
corrupt our slaves. The Duke of Tuscany imprisons a free Eng-
lishman, if he has a Bible in his possession, lest he should cor-
rupt his slaves. It's upon the principle, that what is sauce for
the goose is sauce for the gander."

He didn't pursue the subject.

That's what I call brag for brag. "We never allow any
created critter, male or female, to go a-head of us in anything.
I heard a lady say to embassador's wife onte, in answer to her
question, " how sne was ? "

" Oh, I am in such rude health, I have grown quite in-
decently stout."

Embassadress never heard them slang words before (for
even high life has its slang), but she wouldn't be beat.

" Oh," said she, " all that will yield to exercise. Before I
was married I was the rudest and most indecent gall in all
Connecticut."

AVell, an Irishman, with his elbow through his coat, and his
shirt, if he has one, playing diggy-diggy-doubt from his trowsers,
flourishes his shillalah over his head, and brags of the " Imirald
Isle," and the most splindid pisantry in the world j a Scotch.

214

HOLDING UP THE MIUKOR.

man hoaHta, tliat next to the devil and tlio royal ovmcr of Etna,
he is the richest proprietor of sulphnr that (!ver was heard of;
while a Frenchma.i, whose vanity exceeds hoth, has the modesty
to call the English a nation ot Bho|)keepers, the Yankees, ca-
naille, and all the rest of the world beasts. Even John China-
man swapjpcrs about with his three tails, and calls forei^Miers
" Barbarians." If we go a-head and speak out, do you do so,
too. You have a right to do so. Hold the mirror to tliern, and
your countrymen, too. It won't lie, that'L' a fact. They re-
quire it, I assure you. The way the just expectations of pro-
vincials have been disappointed, the loyal portion doj)ressed, the
turbulent petted, and the manner the feelings of all disregarded,
the contempt that has accompanied concessions, the neglect
that has followed devotion and self-sacrifice, and the extraordin-
ary manner the just claims of the meritorious postponed to
parliamentary support, has worked a change in the feelings of
the people that the Downing Street oHicials cannot understand,
or surely they would pursue a ditfereut course. They want to
have the mirror held up to them.

I know they feel sore here about the picture my mirror
gives them, and it's natural they should, especially comin' from
a Yankee ; and they call me a great bragger. But that's no-
thin' new; doctors do the same when a feller cures a poor
wretch they have squeezed like a sponge, ruinated, and given
up as past hope. They sing out Quack. But I don't care ; I
have a right to brag nationally and individually, and I'd be no
good if I didn't take my own part. Now, though I say it that
shouldn't say it, for I ain't afraid to speak out, the aketches I
send you are from life ; I paint things as you will find them and
know them to be. I'll take a bet of a hundred dollars, ten
people out of twelve in this country will recognise Jerry
Boudrot's house \vho have never entered it, but who have seen
others exactly like it, and will say, " I know who is meant by
Jerry and his daughter and wife ; I hav e often been there ; it
is at Clare or Arichat or Pumnico, or some such place or. an-
other."

Is that braggin' ? Not a bit ; it's only the naked fact. To
my mind there is no vally in a sketch if it ain't true to nature.
AYe needn't go searching about for strange people or strange
things ; life is full of them. There is queerer things happening
every day than an author can imagine for the life of him. It
takes a great mirny odd people to make a world, that's a fact.
Now, if I dcscril e a house that has an old hat in one window,
and a pair of trousers in another, I don't stop to turn glazier,
take 'em out and put whole glass in, nor make a garden where

an-

IIOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

215

there is none, and put a larcje tree in the foreo^ronnd for effect ;
but I take it as I Hnd it, and I take j)eojile in tlio dress I find
'em in, and if I set 'em a talkin' 1 take their very words down.
Nothing gives you a right idea of a country and its people like
that.

There is always some interest in natur, where truly depicted.
Minister used to say that some author (I think he said it was
old Dictionary Johnson) remarked, that the life of any man, if
wrote truly, would be interesting. 1 think so too ; for every man
has a story of his own, adventures of his own, and some things
have happened to him that never haj){)ened to anybody else.
People here abuse me for all this, they say, after all my boastin' I
don't do 'em justice. But after you and 1 are dead and gone, and
things have been changed, as it is to be hoped they will some day or
another for the better, unless they are like their Acadian French
neighbours, and intend to remain just as they are for two hun-
dred and fifty years, then these sketches will be curious ; and,
as they are as true to life as a Dutch picture, it will be inter-
estin' to see what sort of folks were here in 1854, how thev
lived, and how they employed themselves, and so on.

Now it's more than a hundred years ago since Smollett
wrote, but his men and women were taken from real life, his
sailors from the navy, his attorneys from the jails and criminal
courts, and his fops and line ladi js from the herd of such cattle
that he daily met with. Well, they are read now ; I have 'em
to home, and laugh till I cry over them. AVhy r Because natur
is the same always. Although we didn't live a hundred years
ago, we can see how the folks of that age did ; and, although
society is altered, and there are no Admiral Bcnbows, nor Haw-
ser Trunnions, and folks don't travel in vans with canvas covers,
or wear swords, and frequent taverns, and all that as they used
to did to England ; still it's a pictur of the times, and ilistructin'
as well as amusin'. I have learned more how folks dressed,
talked, aad lived, and thought, and what sort of critters they
were, and what the state of society, high and low, was then,
from his books and Fielding's than any 1 know of They are
true to life, and as long as natur remains the same, which it
always will, they will be read. That's my idea at least.

Some squeamish people turn up the whites of their peepers
at both those authors and say they are coarse. How can they
be otherwise ? society was coarse. There are more veils worn
now, but the devil still lurks in the eye under the veil. Things
ain't talked of so openly, or done so openly, in modern as in old
times. There is more concealment ; and concealment is called
delicacy. J3ut where concealment is, the passions are excited

210

HOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

"by the diflicultii's impospd by society. Barriers are erected too
high to Hcale, but every barrier has its wicket, its latch key, aud
its private door. Natur is natur still, and there is as much of
that that is condemned in his books now, as there was then.
There is a horrid sight of hypocrisy now, more than there was
one hundred years ago ; vice was audacious then, and scared
folks. It ain't so bold at present as it used to did to be ; but
if it is forbid to enter the drawing-room, the back staircase is
still free. AVhere there is a will there is a way, and always will
be. I hate pretence, and, above all, mock modesty ; it's a bad
sign.

I knew a clergyman to home a monstrous pious man, and
so delicate-minded, he altered a great many words and passages
in the Church Service, he said he couldn't find it in his heart
to read them out in meetin', and yet that fellow, to my sartain
knowledge, was the greatest scamp in private life I ever knew.
Gracious knows, I don't approbate coarseness, it shocks me,
but narvous sensibility makes me sick. I like to call things by
their right names, and I call a leg a leg, and not a larger limb ;
a shirt a shirt, though it is next the skin, and not a linen vest-
ment ; and a stocking a stocking, though it does reach up the
leg, and not a silk hose ; and a garter a garter, though it is
above the calf, and not an elastic band or a hose suspender. A
really modest woman was never squeamish. Fastidiousness is the
envelope of indelicacy. To see harm in ordinary words betrays
a knowledge, and not an ignorance of evil.

But that is neither here nor there, as I was sayin', when you
are dead and gone these Journals of mine which you have edited,
when mellowed by time, will let the hereafter-to-be Blue-noses
see what the has-been Nova Scotians here from '34 to '54 were.
Now if something of the same kind had been done when Hali-
fax w^as first settled a hundred years ago, what strange coons
the old folks would seem to us. That state of society has passed
away, as well as the actors. For instance, when the militia was
embodied to do duty so late as the Duke of Kent's time. Ensign
Lane's name was called on parade. "Not here," said Lieu-
tenant Grrover, " he is mending Sargent Street's breeches."

Many a queer thing occurred then that would make a queer
book, I assure you. There is much that is characteristic both
to be seen and heard in every harboiu* in this province, the right
Avay is to jot all down. Every place has its standing topic. At
Windsor it is the gypsum trade, the St John's steamer, the
Halifax coach, and a new house that is building. In King's
County it is export of potatoes, bullocks, and horses. At Anna-
polis, cord, wood, oars, staves, shingles, and agricultural pro-

HOLDING UP THE MHiKOR.

2i7

duce of nil kinds. At Bii^by, smoked lierrinj^s, fisli woirs, and
St John niarketa. At Yiirniouth, foreign freights, hertliini;,
rails, cat-heads, lower cheeks, wooden bolsters, and the crown,
palm, and shank of anchors. At Shelburne, it is divided be-
tween Hsh, lumber, and the price of vessels. At Liv^qwol,
ship-buildini?, deals, and timber, knees, transums, and futtucks,
pintles, keelsons, and moose lines. At Lunenburg, Jeddore,
and Chesencook, the state of the market at the capital. At the
other harbours further to the eastward, the coal trade and the
fisheries engross most of the conversation. You hear continu-
ally of the fall run and the spring catch of mackerel that set in
but don't stop to bait. The remarkable discovery of the French
coasters, that was made fifty years ago, and still is as new and
as fresh as ever, that when fish are plenty there is no salt, and
when salt is abundant there are no fish, continually startles you
with its novelty and importance. AVhile you are both amused
and instructed by learning the meaning of coal cakes, Albion
tops, and what a Cheseneooker delights in, "slack;" you also
find out that a hundred tons of coal at Sydney means when it
reaches Halifax one hundred and fifteen, and that West India,
Mediterranean, and Brazilian fish are actually made on these
shores. These local topics are greatly diversified by politics,
which, like crowfoot and white-weed, abound everywhere.

Halifax has all sorts of talk. !N^ow if you was writin' and
not me, you would have to call it, to please the people, that
flourishing great capital of the greatest colony of Great Britain,
the town with the harbour, as you say of a feller who has a large
handle to his face, the man with the nose, that place that is des-
tined to be the London of America, which is a fact if it ever
fulfils its destiny. The little scrubby dwarf spruces on the coast
aro destined not to be lofty pines, because that can't be in the
Lutur of things, although some folks talk as if they expected it ;
but they are destined to be enormous trees, and although they
havn't grown an inch the last fifty years, who can tell but they
may exceed the expectations that has been formed of them ? Yes,
you would have to give it a shove, it wants it bad enough, and
lay it on thick too, so as it will stick for one season.

It reminds me of a Yankee I met at New York wunst, he
was disposin' of a new hydraulic cement he had invented. Now
cements, either to resist fire or water, or to mend the most de-
licate china, or to stop a crack in a stove, is a thing I rather pride
myself on. I make my own cement always, it is so much better
than any I can buy.

Sals I, " AVhat are your ingredients ? "

" Yes," sais he, "tell you my secrets, let the cat out of the

i - i

2i8

HOLDING UP THE MIKKOR.

bai; for yon to catch by the tail. Xo, no," said lie, " excuse me,
it' you please."

It ryled me that, so I just steps up to him, as savage as a
meat-axe, intendin' to throw him down-stairs, when the feller
turned as pale as a rabbit's belly, I vow I could hardly help
laughin', so I didn't touch him at all.

" But," sais I, "you and the cat in the bag may run to Old
Nick ati'l see which will get to him first, and say tag — I don't
want the secret, for I don't believe you know it yourself. If I
was to see a bit of the cement, and break it up myself, I'd tell
you in a moment whether it was good for anything.'

" AVell," sais he, " I'll tell you ; " and he gave me all the
particulars.

Sais I, " It's no good, two important ingredients are wantin',
and you haven't tempered it right, and it won't stick."

Sais he, " I guess it will stick till I leave the city, and that
will answer me and my eends."

" No," sais I, " it won't, it will ruin you for ever, and injure
the reputation of Connecticut among the nations of the airth.
Come to me when I return to Slickville, and I will show you
the proper thing in use, tested by experience, in tanks, in brick
and stone walls, and in a small riimace. Give me two thousand
dollars for the receipt, take out a patent, and your fortune is
made."

" AVell," sais he, " I will if it's all you say, for there is a great
demand for the article, if it's only the true Jeremiah.."

" Don't mind what I say," said I, " ask it what it says, there
it is, go look at it."

Well, you would have to give these Haligonians a ooat of
■white-wash that would stick till y( ii leave the town. But that's
your affair, and not mine. I hold the mirror truly, and don't
flatter. Now, Halifax is a sizable place, and covers a good deal
of ground, it is most as ]arge as a piece of chalk, which will give
a stranger a very good motion of it. It is the seat of govern-
ment, and there are some very important officers there, judging
by their titles. There are a receiver-general, an accountant-ge-
neral, an attorney-general, a solicitor-general, a commissary-ge-
neral, an assistant commissary-general, the general in command,
the quartermaster-general, the adjutant-general, the vicar-ge-
neral, surrogate-general, and postmaster-general. His Excellency
the governor, and his Excellency the admiral. The master of the
liolls, their lordships the judges, the lord bishop, and the arch-
bishop, archdeacon, secretary for the Home department, and a
host of great men, with the handle of honourable to their names.
Mayors, colonels, and captains, whether of the regulars or the

HOLDING UP THE MIRROR.

219

the

militia, they don't count more than fore-cnhin passon^^ers. It
ain't considered genteel lor tlieni to ooine abaft the paiKlle-wheel.
Indeed, the quarter-deck wouhhi't accommodate so many. Now,
there is the same marvel about this small town that there was
about the scholar's head —

" Ami still the wonder fprcw,
How one small head could carry all he knew."

"Well, it is a wonder so many ^( at men can be warm-clothed,
beddcd-down, and well stailrd tin-re, ain't it ? But they are, and
very comfortably, too. This is the upper crust; now the undiT
crust consists of lawyers, doctors, mercliants, army and navy
folks, small officials, articled clerks, and so on. Well, in course
such a town, I bepj pardon, it is a city (which is more i "nin Li-
verpool in England is), and has two cathedral churches, with so
mauy grades, trades, blades, and pretty maids in it, the talk nuist
be various. The military talk is professional, with tender re-
miniscences of home, and some little boasting, that they are suf-
fering in their country's cause by being so long on foreign service
at Halifax. The young swordknots that have just joined are
brim full of ardour, and swear by Jove (the young heathens) it
is too bad to be shut up in this vile hole (youngsters, take my
advice, and don't let the town's-people hear that, or they will
lynch you), instead of going to Constantinople.

" I say, Lennox, wouldn't that be jolly work ? "

" Great work," says Jjennox, " rum coves those Turks nuist
be in the field, eh ? Tiie colonel is up to a thing or two ; if he
was knocked on the head, there would be such promotion, no one
woidd lament him, but his dear wife and five lovely daughters,
and they would be really distressed to lose him."

He don't check the youthful ardour, on the contrary, chimes
in, and is in hopes he can make interest at the Horse-guards for
the regiment to go yet, and then he gives a wink to the do(;tor,
who was in the corps when he was a boy, as much as to say,
" Old fellow, you and I have seen enough of the pleasures of cam-
paigning in our day, eh ! Doctor, that is good wine ; but it's
getting confounded dear lately ; I don't mind it myself, but ib
makes the expense of tlie mess fall heavy upon the youngsters."
The jolly subs look across the table and wink, for they know
that's all bunkum.

" Doctor," sais a new hand, " do you know if Cargill has sold
his orses. His leada is a cleverwish saut of thing, but the wheela
is a riglar bute. That's a goodish crse the Admewall wides; I
wonder if he is going to take him ome with him."

"Haven't heard — can't say. Jones, what's that thing that

\[l\
(

-1 ^

\ t l

■ ii

250

HOLDING UP THF MIRROII.

ont 1

? Confound the thing, I have got it

II, do you know
on the tip of my tonpue too. "

" Aspnalt." '^d\» Junes.

"No! that's r.ot it; that's what wide-awakes are made of"

" ]*erha[)8 so," sais Gage, " asifclt is very appropriate for a
/ooVs cap."

At which thero is a groat roar.

" No ; but really what is it ? "

" Is it arbutus ? " sais Simpkins, " I think they make it at
Killarnty — "

" No, no ; oh ! I have it, asbestos ; well, that's what I believe
the cigars here are made of — they won't go."

*' There are a good many things here that are no go," sais
Gage, " like Perry's bills on Coutts ; but, Smith, where did you
get that flash waistcoat I saw last night r "

" Oh ! that was worked by a poor despairing girl at Bath,
during a fit of the scarlet fever."

" It was a memento mori then, I suppose," replies the other.

But all the talk is not quite so frivolous. Opposite to that
large stone edifice, is an old cannon standing on end at the cor-
ner of the street, to keep carriages from trespassing on the pave-
ment, and the non-military assemble round it ; they are ciA-ic
great guns. They are discussing the great event of the season
— the vote of want of confidence of last night, the resignation
of the provincial ministry this morning, and the startling fact
that the head upholsterer has been sent for to furnish a new
cabinet, that won't warp with the heat and fly apart. It is very
important news ; it has been telegraphed to Washington, find
was considered . so alarming, the President was waked up to be
informed of it. He rubbed his eyes and said :

" Well, I acknowledge the coin, you may take my hat. I
hope I may be cow-hided if I knew they had a ministry. I
thought they only had a governor, and a regiment for a consti-
tution. Will it afl'ect the stocks ? How it will scare the Em-
peror of Kooshia, won't it ? " and he roared so loud he nearly
choked. That just shows (everybody regards the speaker witn
silence, for he is an oracle), says Omniscient Pitt.

Tiiat just shows iiow little the Yankees know^and how little
the English care about us. " If we want to be indepindent and
respictable," saii.i an Hibernian magnate, "we must repale the
Union." But wliat is this ? here is a fellow tied hand and foot
on a truck, which is conveying him to the police court, swear-
ing and screaming honibly. What is the meaning of all
that?

A little cynical old man, commonly called the mnjor, looks

HOLDING UP THE MIKROR.

•J.- 1

knowinc;, puts on a quizzical expression, nnil touchini; his nose
with the tip of his finger, savs, " One of the new njagistrate*
qualifying as he goes down to be sworn into office."

It makes the politicians smile, restores their equanimity,
and they make room for another committee of safetv. A littlo
lower down the street, a mail-coach is starting for "W indsor, and
ten or fifteen men are assembled d .ng their utmost, and twenty
or thirty boys helping them, to look at the j)as8engers, but are
unexpectedly relieved from their arduous duty by a military
band at the head of a marching regiment.

Give me the bar though. I don't mean the bar-room, though
there are some capital songs sung, and good stories told, and
first-rate rises taken out of green ones, in that bar-room at the
big hotel, but I mean the lawyers. They are the merriest and
best fellows everywhere. They fight like prize-boxers in public
and before all the world, and shake hands when they set to and
after it's over. Preachers, on the contrary, write anonymous
letters in newspapers, or let fly pamphlets at each other, and
call ugly names. AVhile doctors go from house to house in-
sinuating, undermining, shrugging shoulders, turning up noses,
and looking as amazed as when they was fust born into the
world, at each other's prescriptions. Well, politicians are dirty
birds too, they get up all sorts of lies against each other, and
if any one lays an egg, t'other swears it was stole out of his
nest. But lawyers are above all these tricks. As soon as court
is ended, oft' they go arm-in-arm, as if they had both been fight-
ing ou one side. " I say, Blowem, that was a capital hit of
yours, making old Gurdy swear he was king of the mountains."

" Not half as good as yours. Monk, telling the witness he
couldn't be a partner, for the plaintiff had put in all the ' stock
in hand,' and bp had only put in his ' stock in feet.' "

They are full of stories, too, tragic as well as comic, picked
up in the circuits.

" Jones, do you know Mc Farlane of Barney's River, a
Presbyterian clergyman 'r He told me he was ouce in a re-
mote district there where no minister had ever been, and visit-
ing the house of a settler of Scotch descent, he began to exam-
ine the children.

" ' "Well, my man,' said he, patting on the shoulder a stout
junk of a boy of about sixteen years of age, ' can you tell me
what is the chief end of man ? '

" ' Yes, Sir,' said he. ' To pile and bum brush.' *

" ' No it ain't,' said his sister.

* In clearing woodland, after the trees are chopped down and cut into con-
venient sizes for handling, they are piled into heaps and burned.

252

HOLDING UP THE MIKIiOR.

" * Oh, but it is though,' replied the boy, 'for lather told ine
HO himHclf.'

" ' No. no,' said the minister, * it'a not that ; but perhaps, my
dear,' addressiuj; the girl, 'you eau tell me what it is 'r '

" ' Oh, yea, Sir,' waid she, * \ ean tell you, and so could John,
but be ncner will thiuk before he speaks.'

"'AVell, what is it, dear?'

" ' Why, the chief end of man, Sir, is his bead and shoul-
ders.'

"' Oh,' said a little lassie that wr ^«stf g to the convers-
ation, ' if you Know all these thing;;, ^'? . «n you tell me if
Xoah had any butterflies in the ark. '} > der how in the
world he ever got hold of them ! ]Many ii: 1 mar,' . beauty have
I chased all day, and I never could catch one yei.

"I can tell you a better one than that," says Larry Ililliard.
"Do you recollect old Hardwood, our under-sheriff? He has a
very beautiful daughter, and she was married last week at St
Paul's Church, to a lieutenant in the navy. There was such an
immense crowd present (for they were considered the handsom-
est couple ever married there), that she got so confused she
could hardly get through the responses. AYhen the archdeacon
said, ' AVill you have tliis man to be your wedded husband ? '

" ' Yes,' she said, and made a slight pause ; and then became
bewildered, and got into her catechism. 'Yes,' she said, 'by
God's grace I will, and I humbly thank my Heavenly Father
for having brought me to this state of salvation.'

" It was lucky she spoke low, and that the people didn't
distinctly hear her, but it nearly choaked the parson."

"Talking of church anecdotes," says Lawyer Martin, "re-
minds me of old Parson Byles, of St John's, New Brunswick.
Before the American rebellion he was rector at Boston, and he
had a curate who always preached against the Roman Catholics.
It tickled the Puritans, but didn't injure the Papists, for there
were none there at that; time. For three successive Sundays
he expounded the text, ' And Peter's wife's mother lay ill of a
fever.'

" From which he inferred priests ought to marry. Shortly
after that the bell was tolling one day, and somebody asked Dr
Byles who Avas dead.

" Says he, and he looked solemcoly, shut one eye and winked
with the other, as if he was trying to shut that also — ' I rather
think it is Peter's wife's mother, for she has been ill of a fever
for three weeks.' "

There are charms in these little "home scenes," these little
detached sketches, wliicli are wholly lost in a large landscape.

HOLDING UP THE MIRKOR.

2o3

There is one very rodecniin^ property about the people.
-Although they difVer widely in politics, J infer that thev live in
tlie greatest possible harmony together, from the fact that they
Bl)eak of each other like menil)er« of the oame family. The word
]\Jr is laid aside as too cold and formal, and the whole Christian
name as too ceremonious. Their most distinguished men speak
of each other, and the public follow their example, as Joe A, or
Jim B, or Bill C, or Tom D, or Fitz this, or Dick that. It
t^ounds odd to strangers no doubt, but the inference that may
be drawn from it is one of great amiability.

Still, in holding up the mirror, hold it up fairly, and take in
nil the groups, and not merely those that excite ridicule. Hali-
fax has more real substantial wealth about it than any j)lace of
its size in America ; wealth not amassed by reckless speculation,
but by judicious enterprise, persevering industry, and consist-
ent economy. In like manner there is better society in it
than in any similar American or colonial town. A man must
know the people to appreciate them. He must not nierely judge
by those whom he is accustomed to meet at the social board,
for they are not always the best specimens anywhere, but by
those also who prefer retirement, and a narrower circle, and
rather avoid general society, as not suited to their tastes. The
character of its mercantile men stands very high, and those that
are engaged in professional pursuits are distinguished for their
ability and integrity. In short, as a colonist, Squire, you may
at least be satisfied to hear from a stranger like me, that they
contrast so favourably with those who are sent oflicially among
them from England, that they need not be ashamed to see them-
selves grouped with the best of them in the same mirror.

Yes, yes, Squire, every place has its queer people, queer talk,
and queer grouping. I draw what is before me, and I can't go
wrong. Kow, if the sketcher introduces his own person into
his foregrounds, and I guess I figure in all mine as large as life
(for like a respectable man I never forget myself), he must take
care he has a good likeness of his skuldiferous head, as well as
a ilattering one. Now, you may call it crackin' and braggin',
and all that sort of a thing, if you please, but I must say, 1 allot
that I look, sit, walk, stand, eat, drink, smoke, think, and talk,
aye, and brag too, like a Yankee clockmaker, don't you ? Yes,
there is a decided and manifest improvement in the appearance
of this province. When I say the province, I don't refer to
Halifax alone, though there are folks there that think it stands
for and represents the whole colony. I mean what I say in
using that expression, w^hich extends to the country at large —
and I am glad to see this change, for I like it. And there is a

2oi

THE ilLNDLE OF feTICKS.

still moro decided nnd mnnifeHt improvement in the peojde. and
1 mil >,drt(l of that too, for I lii;*^ them also. Now, 1 11 tell you
one ^'reat reason of thin alteration. ])liie<noHe has seen himself
&» other folks see him, he has had " the mirror held up to him.'*

CUAPTER XIX.

THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.

I HAD hardly entered these remarks in my Journal, and as-
cended the companion-ladder, when the doctor joined me in my
quarter-deck walk, and said, " Mr Slick, what is your opinion
of the state of these North American colonies ? "

What a curious thing these coincidences are, Squire, ain't
they ? How often when you are speaking of a man, he unex-
jiectedly makes his appearance, don't he ? or if you are thinking
of a subject, the person who is with you starts the same topic,
or if you are a going to say a thing, he takes, as we say, the ver^
words out of your mouth. It is something more than acci-
dent that, but what is it ? Is it animal magnetism, or what is
it ? Well, I leave you to answer that question, for I can't.

" Their growth beats all. The way they are going ahead is
a caution to them that live in Sleepy Hollow, a quiet little place
the English call Downing Street. It astonishes them as a young
turkey does a hen that has hatched it, thinking it was a chicken
of her OMU. She don't know what in the world to make of the
great long-legged, long-bodied critter, that is six times as large
as herself, that has cheeks as red as if it drank brandy, an im-
perial as large as a Eussian dragoon, eats all the food of the
poultry-yard, takes a shocking sight of nursing when it is young,
and gets as sarcy as the devil when it grows up."

" Yes," said he, " I am aware of its growth ; but what do you
suppose is the destiny of British North America ? "

" Oh," sais I, " I could tell you if I was Colonial minister,
because I should then have the power to guide that destiny. I
know full well what ought to be done, and the importance of
doing it soon, but I am not in the position to give them the
right direction. No English statesmen have the information,
the time, or the inclination to meddle with the subject. To get
rid of the bother of them, they have given up all control and
said to them, * There is responsible government for you, now

TIIK mrNDLE OF STICKS.

0\K

tortio ofV liuin, nnd innnaf^c V(»i»r own nftairs.' Yr«, yes, 8<» far
H(» i^iun\ — llicy ran nianai^t' tlirir own domrxtic nrnttrn*. but wlm
IM to niaiia:;«' thrir ton'ij^n atlairH. an I naid wunst to a ini'mbiT
of purlianirnt. Tlu'V have outi^rown colonial «U'jM'n<lan('o ; tlirir
minority is ended ; their clerkHhip is out ; they are ot'a^e now:
thev never did well in vojir house ; they were put out to nurse at
n distance; they had their sehooling; they learnt figures ei.rly ;
thev can add and multiply faster than you can to save your soul ;
and now they are uneasy. They have your name, for they are
your children, but they are younf»er sond. The estate and all the
nonours t;o to the eldest, who resides at home. Thev know but
little about their parents, further than that their bills have been
liberally paid, but they have no personal acquaintance with you.
You are tired of manitaining them, and they have too much
pride and too much enerj,'y to continue to be a burden to you.
They can and they will do for themselves.

"Have you ever thought of srttinp; them up in business on
their own account, or of takinjj; them into partnership with
yourself? In the course of nature they must form some con-
nection soon. Shall they seek it with you or the States, or inter-
marry among themselves, and begin the world on their own
hook ? These are important questions, and they must be an-
swered soon. Have you acquired their confidence and affection ?
What has been your manner to them ? Do you treat them like
your other younger children that remain at home ? Them you
put into your army and navy, place a sword in their hands and
Bay, Distmguish yourselves, and the highest rewards are open to
you ; or you send them to the church or the bar, and say, A mitre
or a coronet shall be the prize to contend for. If you prefer
diplomacy, you shall be attache to your elder brother. I will
place the ladder ])efore you ; ascend it. If you like politics, I
will place you in parliament, and if you have not talents suflB-
cient for the House of Commons, you shall go out as governor
of one of our colonies. Those appointments belong of right to
them, but they caiCt help themselves at present. Get one while
you can.

" Have you done this, or anything like it, for your children
abroad ? If you have, perhaps you will be kind enough to fur-
nish me ■with some names, that I may mention them when I
hear you accused of neglect. You are very hospitable and very
considerate to strangers. The representative of any little in-
significant German state, of the size of a Canadian towTiship,
has a place assigned him on state occasions. Do you ever show
the same attention to the delegate of a colony, of infinitely more
extent and value than Ireland ? There can't be a doubt you

250

THE DLXDLi: OF STICKS.

i I

h.'ivp, t)u(iit;li T linvo never heard of it. Siuli little trifles are
iimtterH el' euiiPHe, Itiit Mtill, an ^,'reat iiitenhts are at ntake, jmt-
)ia|)H it woiilil be an well to iiotiee hucIi tliiiiL,'rt oeea.sionally
ill tlu! (ja/.ette, lor diHtunt and huinblu relutiouii ure ulwasn
toufliy.

"All, Doctor," Haid T, *' fhinr/H cnn^f and won* t rrmain long a.<t
fliri/ are. Kn;;laiid liax tliri'e tJiii)Li;« aiuoii;^ wliii-h to eliooMe tor
lier North American c(ilonii'.^ : — Firwt : Incorporalion with her-
Heir, and repreHcntation in Parliament. Secondly : Independ-
ence. Thirdly: Annexation with the States, instead ot' de-
liheratinj^ and selectin;; what will be most conducive to the
interest of herself and her dependencies, she is allowiii'j; thinLjs
to take their chance. Now, this is all very well in matters over
which wo have no control, becanse Providence directs thiiif^'s
better than we can ; but if one of these three alternatives is in-
finitely better than the other, and it is in our power to adopt it, it
is the hei^'ht of folly not to do so. I know it is said, for 1 have
often heard it myscflf. Why, ^ye can but lose the colonies at last.
Pardon me, you can do more than that, for you can lose their
affections also. If the partnership is to be dissolved, it had better
be done by mutual consent, and it would be for the interest ot
both that you should part friends. You didn't shake hands
with, but fists at, us when we separated. AVe had a stand-up
fi^dit, and you ^'ot licked, and wounds Avcre given that the best
part of a century hasn't healed, and wounds that will leave
tender spots for ever ; so don't talk nonsense.

" Now, Doctor, mark my words. I say again, things won't
remain long as they are. I am glad I have you to talk to in-
stead of the Squire, for he always says, I am chockfull of crot-
chets, and brimfuU of brag. No\v, it is easy, we all know, to
prophesy a thing after it has happened, but if I foretell a thing
and it comes out true, if I haven't a right to brag of my skill,
I have a right to boast that I guessed right at all eyents. Now,
when I set on foot a scheme for carrying the Atlantic mail in
steamers, and calculated all the distances and chances, and
showed them Bristol folks (for I went to that place on purpose)
that it was shorter by thirty-six miles to come to Halifax, and
then go to New York, than to go to New Y'ork direct, they just
laughed at me, and so did the English Government. They said it
couldn't be shorter in the nature of things. There was a captain
in the navy to London too, who said, ' Mr Slick, you are \vrong,
and I think I ought to know something about it,' giving a toss
of his head, ' Well,' sais I, with another toss of mine, ' I think
you ought too, and I am sorry you don't, that's all.'

"Then the Squire said: — ' \Vhy, how you talk, Mr Slick'

{

a
li

THE BUNDLE OP STICKS.

257

RornlliH't, if you pl(»aJM\ tlint Doctor Lanlnor nays that steam
won't do to crois the Atlnntic, and he in a f^reat ^un.'

" ' Well,' Hais I, * I don't care a flj? for what Lardner Bayn,
or any other loeomotive leeturer under the lij,'ht of the living
nun. If a Hteaiiier can p;o af^in a stream, and a plamiy fltn)n^
one too, two thousand Hve hundred miles up the MissiHHippi,
why in natur can't it be fixed ho as to ^o acn)S8 the Atlantic ? '

" Well, some time after that, my second t'lockmaker camo
out in London, and, sais I, I'll stand or fall by my opinion,
ri>j;ht or wronj?, and I just put it body and breeches all down in
figures in that book. Well, that set inquiries on foot, folks be-
gan to calculate — a tender was made and accepted, and now
steam across the Atlantic is a fixed fact, and an old story. Our
folks warn't over pleased about it, they consaited I should have
told them first, so they mip;ht have taken the lead in it, as they
like to go ahead of the British in all things, and I wish to good-
ness I had, for thanks are better nor jeers at any time.

" Well, 1 was right there, you see. So on this subject I have
told Squire, and them who ought to know something of the colo-
nies they rule, over and over again, and warned government
that something was wanting to place these provinces on a proper
permanent footing ; that I knew the temper of colony folks
better than they did, and you will find in my Journals the sub-
ject often mentioned. But no, a debate on a beer bill, or a me-
tropolitan bridge, or a constabulary act, is so pressing, there is
no time. Well, sure enough that's all come true. First, the
Canadian league started up, it was a feverish symptom, and it
subsided by good treatment, without letting blood. Last win-
ter it was debated in the Legislature here, and the best and
ablest speeches made on it ever heard in British America, and
infinitely superior to the great majority of those uttered in the
House of Commons.* Do you suppose lor a moment that proud-
spirited, independent, able men like those members, will long
endure the control of a Colonial minister, who, they feel, is as
much below them in talent, as by accident he may be above
them in rank ? No, Sir, the d y is past. The form of provin-
cial government is changed, and with it provincial dependence
also. When we become men, toe must put away childish things.

" There is a sense of soreness that is uncomfortably felt by
a colonist now when he surveys our condition, and that of
Englishmen, and compares his own with it. He can hardly tell

♦ All these speeches are well worth reading, especially those of Mr Howe,
Mr Johnston, ana Mr M. Wilkins. That of the former gentleman is incompar-
ably superior to any one delivered during the last session of the Imperial rar-

liameut.

253

THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.

you what ho wsxntH, he has yet no dofinito plan; but ho 'losires
Homotlnnj^ that will place him on a perfect ecjiiality with either.
AVheii I waH in Eun)j)o lately, I sneiit u day at Jiichinond, with
one of them I had known out in America

Jl(

ri"
.IL<

too,

c was a iLory,
and a |)retty staunch one, I tell you,

"Thinks 1 to myself, 'I'll put you throujr^h yon* paces a
little, my young sucking Washington, for fear you will get out
of practice when you get back.'

" So, sais I, ' how do you get on now? I suppose responsible
government has put an end to all complaints, nain'i it?*

" Sais he, ' Mr Slick,' and I saw he felt sore, for he looked
like it, and talked like it ; ' Mr Slick,' said he, * kinder niblin' at
the (jiK'stion, I have no remonstrance to make. There is some-
thing very repulsive in a complaint. I can't bear the sound of
it myself. It should never be pronounced but in the ear of a
doctor, or a police magistrate. Your man with a grievance is
everywhere voted a bore. If he goes to the Colonial OlTice with
one, that stout gentleman at the door, the porter, who has the
keys of that realm of knowledge and bliss, and knows as much
and has as many airs as his master, soon receives an order not
to admit him.

" ' Worn out with fatigue and disappointment, the unfortu-
nate suitor finds at last his original grievance merged in the
greater one, that he can obtain no hearing and no redress, and
he returns to his own province, like Franklin, or the Australian
delegate, with thoughts of deep revenge, and visions of a glo-
rious revolution that shall set his countrymen free from foreign
dominion. He goes a humble suppliant, he returns an impla-
cable rebel. The restj3ss Pole, who would rather play the part
of a freebooting officer than an honest farmer, and who prefers
even begging to labour, wanders over Europe and America, ut-
tering . 'xecrationa against all monarchs in general, and his own
in part 'ular, and, when you shake your head at his oft-told tale
of fictitious patriotism, as he replaces his stereotyped memorial
in his pocket, exhibits the handle of a stiletto, with a savage
smile of unmistakeable scoundrelism.*

" * Poles loom large,' sais I, * in the fogs of London, but they
dwindle into poor sticks with us.'

" Tie was in no temper however to laugh. It was evident
he felt deeply, but he was unwilling to exhibit the tender spot.
' The world, Sir,' he said, ' is full of grievances. Papineau's par-
liament mustered ninety-two of them at one time, and a Fal-
mouth packet-ship actually foundered with its shifting cargo.
What a pity it is that their worthlessness and lightness alone
caused them to float! The English, who reverse every whole-

THE nrNDLi: of sticks.

2oD

Bonie nia\im, in thiM instaiict^ pursued tlicir usual rourso. T!if
si.'ii^t' advice, parccre sithjrcfis, ct ihbilore m/prrbng, was din.
rei^iirded. Tlie loyalistsH sullered, the an'OLjaut and turbulent
triuinj)lu'd. Every house, »Sir, in the kiui^doni is infested ^vith
"grievances. Fathers ijrieve over the extravagances of their sons,
the f^iddiness of their daui^lit<>rs, and the ceaseless nuirniurs of
their uives, >vhile they in their turn unite in coniplainint; of
)arental parsimony and meanness. Social intercourse 1 havo
oui; sine; given np, for 1 am tired of tedious narratives of tho
delinquenci^Vi of servants and the degeneracy of the times. I
prefer large parties, where, although you know the smile hides
the peevish temper, the aching heart, the jealous fear, and tho
wounded pride ; yet it is such a great satisfaction to know there
is a truce to complaints, that I prefer its many fal.sehoods to
unceasing wailings over the sad realities of life.'

"This was no answer, but something to blulfme olV. I saw
he was unwilling to speak out, and that it was a mere etVort to
button up and evade the subject. So to draw him out, I said,

"'Well, there is one thing you can boast, Canada is tho
most valuable and beautiful appendage of the Britisli Crown.'

" ' England may boast of it as such,' he said, ' but I have no
right to do so. I prefer being one of the pariahs of the empire,
a mere colonist, having neither grade nor caste, without a
country of my own, and without nationality. I am a humble
man, and when I am asked where I come from, readily answer,
the Chaudiere liiver. AV^here is that ? Out of the world ? Extra
Jfamma?itia limina mundi. AV^hat is the name of your country ?
It is no»; a country, it is only a place. It is better to have no
flag than a borrowed one. If I liad one I should have to defend
it. If it were w^'ested from me I should be disgraced, while my
victorious enemy would be thanked by the Imperial Legislature,
and rewarded by his sovereign. If I were trivnnphant, the affair
would be deemed too small to merit a notice in the Gazette.
He who called out the militia, and quelled amid a shower of
halls the late rebellion, was knighted. He who assented amid
a shower of eggs to a bill to iudenniify the rebels, was created
an earl. Now to pelt a governor-general with eggs is an overt
act of treason, for it is an attempt to throw off the yoke. If
therefore he Avas advanced in the peerage for remunerating
traitors for their losses, he ought now to assent to another act
for reimbursing the expenses of the exhausted stores of the
poultry yards, and be made a marquis, unless the British see a
difference between a rebel mob and an indignant crowd, be-
tween those whose lite has been spent in hatching mischief, and
those who desired to scare the foul birds from their rests.

'71

"ilil:

2G0

THE BUNDLE OF STICKS.

" ' If that man had hern a colonist, the dispatch marked
'private' would have said, 'It sarved you rifjht,' whereaH it an-
nounced to him, ' You are one of us,' and to mark our appro-
bation of vour conduct, you may add one of these savoury mis-
Biles to your coat of arms, that others may be ejt/ed on to do
their duty. Indeed, we couldn't well have a flag of our own.
The Americans have a very appropriate and elegant one, con-
taining stripes emblematical of their slaves, and stars to re-
present their free states, while a Connecticut goose typifies the
gootl cheer of thanksgiving day. It is true we have the honour
of fighting under that of England ; but there is, as we have seen,
this hard condition annexed to it, we must consent to be taxed,
to reimburse the losses of those whom by our gallantry we sub-
due. If we take Sebastopol, we must pay for the damage we
have done. AVe are not entitled to a separate flag, and I am
afraid if we had one we should be subject to ridicule. A pure
white ground would prefigure our snow drifts ; a gull with out-
spread wings, our credulous qualities ; and a few discoloured
eggs, portray our celebrated missiles. But what sort of a flag
would that be ? No, Sir, these provinces should be united, and
they would from their territorial extent, their commercial enter-
prise, their mineral wealth, their wonderful agricultural pro-
ductions, and, above all, their intelligent, industrious, and still
loyal population, in time form a nation second to none on earth ,*
until then I prefer to be a citizen of the world.

" ' I once asked an Indian where he lived, I meant of course
where his camp was, but the question was too broad, and puzzled
him. Stretching out his arm and describing a circle with his
heel, he said, ' I live in all these woods ! ' Like him, I live in
all this world. Those who, like the English and Americans,
have appT-opriated so large a portion of it to themselves, may
severally boast, if they think proper, of their respectiye goyern-
meuts and territories. My boast. Sir, is a peculiar one, that I
have nothing to boast of.'

" ' If such are your views,' I said, * I must say, I do not un-
derstand that absurd act of firing your parliament house. It is,
I assure you, reprobated everywhere. ()ur folks say your party
commenced as old IlunJcers * and ended as Barnburners.''

* ""We have been requested to give a definition of tliis term, * Old Hun-
kers.' Party nicknames arc not often logically justified ; and we can only say
that that section of the late dominant party in this State (the democratic)
wiiich claims to be the more radical, progressive, reformatory, &c., bestowed
the appellation of ' Old Hunker ' on the other section, to indicate that it was
distinguished by opposite qualities from those claimed for itself. "We beiiev«
the title was also intended to indioate that tlmse on whom ii was conferred
had au appetite for a large ' hunk ' of the spoils, though wo never could dis-

irlicd
t aii-
|)])r<)-

niis-
to do

own.
, con-
to re-
es the
lonour
3 seen,
taxed,
e siib-
ige we
d I am
A. pure
th out-
Dloured
f a flag
ed, anil
1 enter-
•al pi'o-
md still
1 earth ,•

f course

puzzled

with his

live in

lericans,

es, may

govern-

i, that I

not un-
it is,
ur party

Old Hun-
n only say
eraccratic)
, bestowed
■hat it was
Ve believe
conferred
could dis-

THE KUXDLE OF STICKS.

2G1

"That remark threw him ofT his guard; he rose up greatly
agitated ; his eves flaslied tire, and he extended out his arm as
if he intended bv gesticulation to give full force to what lie was
about to say. lie stood in this attitude for a moment without
uttering a word, when by a sudden eflbrt he mastered himself,
and took up his hat to walk out on the terrace and recover his
composure.

" As he reached the door, he turned, and said :
"'The assenting to that infamous indemnity act, IVfr Slick,
and the still more disreputable manner in which it received the
gubemational sanction, has produced an impression in Canada
that no loyal man — ' but he again checked himself, and left the
sentence unfinished.

" I was sorry I had pushed him so hard, but the way he
tried to evade the subject at first, the bitterness of his tone,
and the exciter "nt into which the allusion threw him, convinced
me that the English neither know who their real friends in Ca-
nada are, nor how to retain their aft'ections.

" When he returned, I said to him, * I was only jesting about
your having no grievances in Canada, and I regret having agi-
tated you. I agree with you however that it is of no use to re-
monstrate with the English public. They won't listen to you.
If you want to be heard, attract their attention, in the first in-
stance, by talking of their own immediate concerns, and while
they are regarding you with inte^^^se interest and anxiety, by a
sleight of hand shift the dissolving view, and substitute a sketch
of your own. For instance, says you, ' How is it the army in the
Crimea had no tents in the autumn, and no huts in the winter
— the hospitals no fittings, and the doctors no nurses or medi-
cines ? How is it disease and neglect have killed more men
than the enemy ? TV hy is England the laughing-stock of Eus-
sia. and the butt of French and Yankee ridicule ? and how does
it happen this country is filled with grief and humiliation from
one end of it to the other ? I will tell you. These affairs were
managed hi/ a branch of the Colonial Office. The minister for
that department said to tlie army, as he did to the distant pro-
vinces, ' Manage yo\ir own afiairs. and don't bother us.' Then
pause and say, slowly and emphatically, ' You now have a taste
of what we have endured in the colonies. The same incompetency
has ruled over hoik.'' "

cover that they won peculiar in that. On the other hand, the opposite school
was termed ' Banilmrners,' in allusion to the story of an old Dutchman, who
relieved himself of rats by buniinj^ his barns, which they infested — ^just like
exterininatini^ all banks and corporations to root out the abuses connected
therewith. The fitness or unfitness of these family tcrma of endcarracnt is
none of our business." — New Youk Tridlne.

- 1 ' i

2G2 THE nUNDLK OF .STICKS.

"'Good heavens,' said ho, 'Mr Slick, I wish you was one

of us.'

"'Thank you for the coiuplimont,' sais T. ' I feci iiattored,
I assure you; but, excuse inc. 1 have no such ambition. 1 am
content to be a humble Yankee dockiiiaker. A Colonial Ojjice,
in icliich there is not a single man that ever saw a colonji, is
not exactly the f/overnment to suit vie. The moment I found my
master knew less than I did, I quit his school and set up Jur
myself.'

' Yes, my friend, the Enp;li.sh want to liave the mirror lield
up to them ; but that is your business and not mine. It Avould
be out of place for me. I am a Yankee, and politics are not
my line ; I have no turn for them, and I don't think I have the
requisite knowledge of the subject for discussing it ; but you
have both, and I wonder you don't.

"Now, Doctor, you may judge from that conversation, and
the deep feeling it exhibits, that men's thouglits are wandering
in new channels. The great thing for a statesman is t:» direct
them to the right one. 1 have said tliere were three courses to
be considered ; first, incorporation with England ; secondly, in-
dependence ; thirdly, annexation. The subject is too large for
a quarter-deck walk, so I will only say a few words more. Let's
begin with annexation first. The thinking, reflecting people
among us don't want these provinces. AYe guess we are l)ig
enough already, and nothing but our great rivers, canals, rail-
roads, and telegraphs (which, like skewers in a ro;i7\d of beef,
fasten the unwieldy mass together) could possibly keep v- u.\ired.
Without them we should fall to pieces; in no time. 1 1 sa as in'^ch
as they can keep all tight and snug now ; but them skovvors uor
no others can tie a greater bulk than we have. AYell, I don't
think colonists want to be swamped in our vast republic either.
So there ain't no great danger from that, unless the devil gits into
us both, which, if a favourable chance ollered, he is not onlikely
to do. So let that pass. Secondly, as to incorporation. That
is a grand idea, but it is almost too grand for John Bull's head,
and a little grain too large for his pride. There are difliculties,
and serious ones, in the way. It would require participation in
the legislature, r/hicli would involve knockinsr off some of the
Irish brigade to iuiVe room for your members ; and there would
be a Imrrush at thf t. aj O' Jonnell used to say, that would bang
Banaghar. It would also involve an invasion of the upper
liouse, for colrul^t-. vvout take half a l.-af now, I tell you;
which would mMk^ "'orri.* o tlusr gouty old lords fly round cud
scream like Mt ! i.uf Cary'iH ('hickens iu ;j gale of wind ; and then
there would be tb.; ."-tu; r o^ the national debt, and a })articipa-

L8 one

stored,
1 nil)
OJice,
oiii/, iit
(lid my
up Jur

IT lield
would
ire not
ive tlie
lUt vou

on, and

idering

» direct

irses to

dly, in-

irge for

?. Let's

people

are big

ds, rail-

of beef,

u.iired.

•'n's :ior
1 don't
e either,
nrits into
onlikely
That
I's head,
i cullies,
at ion in
of the
'e would
lid bang
e upper
.^11 you ;
und and
Lud then
articipa-

TIIE IJL'NDLE OF STICKS.

2G3

tinn in iniponnl taxes to adjust, and so on; but none of these
dillicuhit's are inHujuTabk'.

"A utatesnian with a clever head, a S' '.:nd jud:j;in('nt, and a
good heart, couhl adjust a Hclieme that would Halisfy all; at
least it would satisfy colonists In' its justice, and rccoucile the
])('er8 and the ])eople of Engl ind by its expediency, for the day
Great Britain parts with these colonies, depend uj)on it, she de-
Bceuds in the scale of nations most rapidly. Jndia she may lose
any day, for it is a government of opinion only. Australia will
emancipate itself ere long, but these provinces sht; may and
ought to retain.

" Thirdly, independence. This is better for lier than annex-
ation by a long chalk, and better for the colonies too, if 1 was
nHowed to spend my opinion on it ; but if that is decided upon,
something must be done soon. The way ought to be prej)ared
for it by an immediate federative and legislative union of them
all. It ^s of no use to consult their governors, they don't and
t- ^y can't know anything of the country but its roads, lakes,
ri'^Ts, and towns; but of the people they know nothing what- \
( .:r. You might as well ask the steeple of a wooden chiu-ch
tvLether the sill that rests on the stone foundation is sound.
They are too big according to their own absurd notions, too
£mall in the eyes of colonists, and too far removed and unbending
to know anything about it. What can a man learn in five years
.xctpt the painful fact, that he knew nothing when he came, and
knows as little when he leaves ? He can form a better estimate
of himself than when he landed, and returns a humbler, but
not a sviser man ; but that's all his schoolin' ends in. No, Sirree,
it's only men like you and me who know the ins and outs of
che people here."

" Don't say me," said the doctor, " for goodness' sake, for I
know nothing about the inhabitants of these woods and waters,
but the birds, the fish, and the beasts."

" Don't you include politicians," said I, " of all shades and
colours, under the last genus ? because I do, they are regular
beasts of prey."

AVell, he laughed ; he said he didn't know nothing about them.

" Well," sais I, " I ain't so modest, I can tell you, for I do
know. I am a clockmaker, and understand machinery. I
knoAv all about the wheels, pulleys, pendulum, balances, and so
on, the length of the chain, and what is best of all, the way to
winf^ 'em up, set 'em a going, and make 'em keep time. Now,
Doctor, I'll tell you what neither the English nor the Yankees,
nor the colonists themselves, know anything of, and that is about
the extent aud importance of these North American provinces

t ,

S&ft

THE BUNDLE OF STIC?KS.

under British rule. Take your pencil now, and write down a
few facts 1 will give you, and when you are alone meditating,
just chew on 'em.

" First — there are four millions of square miles of territory
in them, whereas all Europe has but three millions some odd
hundred thousands, and our almighty, everlastin' United States
Btill less than that again. Canada alone is equal in size to
Great Britain, France, and Prussia. The maritime provinces
themselves cover a space aa large as Holland, Belgium, Greece,
Portugal, and Switzerland, all put together. The imports for
1853 were between ten and eleven millions, and the exports
(ships sold included) between nine and ten millions. At the
commencement of the American Revolution, when we first dared
the English to fight us, we had but two and a half, these pro-
vinces now contain nearly three, and in half a century will reach
the enormous amount of eighteen millions of inhabitants. The
increase of pop ilation in the States is thirty-three per cent., in
Canada sixty-eight. The united revenue ia nearly a million and
a half, and their shipping amounts to four hundred and fifty
thousand tons.

"Now, take these facts and see what an empire is here,
surely the best in elimato, soil, mineral, and other productions
in the world, and peopled by such a race as no other . untry
under heaven can produce. No, !Sir, here are the bundle of sticks,
ail the y' want is to be well united. How absurd it seems to us
Yankees that England is both so ignorant and so blind to her
own interests, as not to give her attention to this interesting
portion of the empire, that in natur^'l ant commercial wealth is
of infinitely more importance than iialf a dozen "Wallachias and
Moldavias, and in loyalty, intelligence, and enterprise, as far
superior to turbulent Ireland as it is possible for one country
to surf >iiss another. However, Doctor, it's no afiair of mine. I
hate p )> itics, and I hate talking figures. Sposin' we try a cigar,
and some white satin"

CHAPTER XX.

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

" Doctor," sais I, as we ascended the deck the following
morning, " 1 can't tell you how I have enjoyed these incidental

TO\VS AND COUNTRY. VS

runs on filiore I have had durinpf my cnu'ae in thr * Black IT:»wk.'
I am amazin' fond of the couiitrv. and bein' an early risor, I
manage to loRe none of it» charms. I like to sec ti)c early
Btreak in the east, and look on the glorious sky when the sun
rises. I like everything about the country, and the jM'ople that
live in it. The town is artifu'ial, the country is natural. AVho-
ever sees the peep of the morning in the city but a drowsy
"watchman, who waits for it to go to his bed ? a nurse, that is
counting the heavy hours, and longs to put out the unsnufled
candles, and take a cup of strong tea to keep her ])eepers ()|h>u ;
or some houseless WTetch, that is woke up from his nap on a
door-step, by a punch in the ribs from the staff of a policeman,
•who begrudges the misfortunate critter a luxury he is deprived
of himself, and asks him what he is a doin' ot there, aa if he
didn't know he had nothin' to do nowhere, and tells him to
mizzle oft' home, aa if he took pleasure in reminding him he had
none. Duty petrifies these critters' hearts harder than the
grand marble porch stone that served for a couch, or the door-
step that was used for a pillow. Even the dogs turn in then,
for they don't think it's necessary to mount guard any longer.
Blinds and curtains are all do^\Ti, and evsry livin' critter is
asleep, breathing the nasty, hot, confined, unwholesome air of
their bed-rooms, instead of inhaling the cool dewy breeze of
heaven.

" Is it any wonder that the galls are thin, and pale, and
delicate, and are so languid, they look as if they were givin'
themselves airs, when all they want is air ? or that the men
complain of dygpepsy, and look hollow and unhealthy, having
neither c' yeks, stomach, nor thighs, and have to take bitters
to get an appetite for their food, and pickles and red pepper to
digest it ? The sun is up, and has performed the first stage of
his journey before the maid turns out, opens the front door,
and takes a look up and down street, to see who is a stirrin'.
Early risin' must be cheerfulsome, for she is very chipper, and
throws some orange-peel at the shopman of their next neigh-
bour, as a hint if he was to chase her, he would catch her be-
hind the hall-door, as he did yesterday, after which she would
show him into the supper-room, where the liquors and cakes
are still standing as they were left last night.

" Yes, she is right to hide, for it is decent, if it ain't modest,
seein' the way she has jumped into her clothes, and the danger
there is of jumping out of them again. How can it be other-
wise, when she has to get up so horrid early ? It's all the fault
of the vile milkman, who will come for fear his milk will get
sour ; and that beast, the iceman, who won't wait, for fear his

200

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

ice will melt ; and that stupid )iiu;i;or who will brush the shoes
tlien, he has ho nianv to clean elsewhere.

" Ah she stands there, a woman ascends the s^^ep, and pro-
duces a l)aHket from under her cloak, into which she looks care-
fully, examines its contents (some lace frills, tipj)ets, and col-
lars of her mistress, which she wore a few nights asjjo at a ball),
and returns with somethinsr heavy in it, for the arm h extended
in carrying it, and the stranger disappears. She still lingers,
she is expecting some one. It is the postman, he gives her
three or four letters, one of which is for herself. She reads it
approvingly, and i m carefully puts it into her bosom, but that
won't retain it no how she can fix it, so she shifts it to her
]iocket. It is manifest Posty carries a verbal answer, for she
talks very earnestly to him, and shakes hands with him at part-
ing most cordially.

"It must be her turn for a ball to-night I reckon, for a
carriage drives very rapidly to within three or four hundred
yards of the house, and then crawls to the door so as not to
dist • !' the family. A very fashionably-dressed maid is there
(her mistress must be very l<ind to lend her such expensive
head-gear, splendid jewelry, and costly and elegant toggery),
and her beau is there with such a haiidsome moustache and be-
coming beard, and an exqu laitely-workfid chain that winds six
or seven times round him, and hangs loose over his waistcoat,
like a coil of golden cord. At a given signal, from the boss of
the hack, who stands dooi "n hand, the young lady gathers her
clothes well up her drumsticks, and would you believe, two
steps or springs only, like those of a kangaroo, take her into
the house F It's a streak of light, and nothing more. It's lucky
she is thin, for fat tames every critter that is foolish enough to
wear it, and spoils agility.

" The beau takes it more leisurely. There are two epochs
in a critter's life of intense happiness, first when he doffs the
petticoats, pantellets, the hermaphrodite rig of a child, and
mounts the jacket and trowsers of a boy ; and the other is when
that gives way to a ' long tail blue,' and a beard. He is then
a man,

" The beau has reached this enviable age, and as he is full
of admiration of himself, is generous enough to allow time to
others to feast their eyes on him. So he takes it leisurely, his
character, like that charming girl's, won't suflfer if it is known
they return with the cats in the morning; on the contrary,
women, as they always do, the little fools, will think more of
liim. They make no allowance for one of their own sex, but
they are very indulgent, indeed they are both blind and deaf, to

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

2C7

tlu' errors of tlic other. The fact is, if T didn't l<now it wns
only vindicatinj; the honour of tht-ir sex. 1 vow I nhoidd tliink
it was all envy of the ^all wlio was so liu-ky. as to l»t« uidiicky ;
but 1 know better than that. If the owner of the housi' should
be foolish enough to be up so early, or entirely take leave of
liis senses, and ask him wliy he was mousing; about llicic. ho
flatters himself he is just the child to kiek l\iui. Indeed he leels
inclined to flap his win^^s and crow. Jle is very nroiul. Celes-
tina is in love with him, and tells him (but he knew that be-
fore) he is very handsome, lie is a man, Ik; has a beard as
black as the ace of spades, is full dressed, and tlie world is be-
fore him, lie thrashed a watchiium last iiiLfht, and now he has
a drop in his eye, would fight the devil, lie has succeeded in
deceiving that gall, he has no more idea of marrying her than I
have, it shows his power, lie would give a dollar to crew,
but suflfers himself to be gently pushed out of the hall, and the
door fastened behind him, amid such endearing ex})rcssion8,
that they would tuni a fellow's head, even after his hair had
grown gray. He then lights a cigar, gets up with the driver,
and looks round with an air of triumph, as much as to say —
* What would you give to be admired and as successful as 1 am ? '
and when he turns the next corner, he does actilly crow.

"Yes, yes, when the cat's away, the mice will play. Things
am't in a mess, and that house a hurrah's nest, is it? Time
wears on, and the alternate gall must be a niovin' now, for the
other w^ho was at the ball has gone to bed, and intends to have
her by-daily head-ache if inquired for. To-night it will be her
turn to dance, and to-morrow to sleep, so she cuts round con-
siderable smart. Poor thing, the time is not far oft' Avhen you
will go to bed and not sleep, but it's only the child that burns
its fingers that dreads the tire. In the mean time, set things to
rights.

" The curtains are looped up, and the shutters folded back
into the wall, and the rooms are sprinkled with tea-leaves, which
are lightly swept up, and the dust left behind, where it ought
to be, on the carpet, — that's all the ur,e there is of a carpet, except
you have got corns. And then the Venetians are let down
to darken the rooms, and the windows are kept closed to keep
out the flies, the dust, and the heat, and the flov\'crs l)rought in
and placed in the stands. And there is a beautiful temperature
in the parlour, for it is the same air that was there a fortnight
before. It is so hot, when the young ladies come down to
breakfast, they can't eat, so they take nothing but a ])late of
buck-wheat cakes, and another of hot buttered rolls, a do/cn of
oysters, a pot ol' preserves, a cup of honey, and a few ears of

2G8

TOWN AND COUKTRY.

Indian com. They rnn't nbido meat, it's too nolid and heavy.
It'H BO horrid warm it'H impoHsible they can have an apurtite,
and even that little trifle makeH them feel dvHp^'ptic. 'Ihey'll
starve woon ; what can be the matter? A glasH of cool Ki'iK*'*"
pop, with ice, would be refrcHhinjj;, and Boda water is still brtter.
It iH too early for wine, and at any rate it's heatinfi^, besides
bein^ uiiHcriptural.

" Well, the men look at their watchcH, and say they are in
a hurry, and must be off for their eounting-houBes like wink,
80 they bolt. What a wonder it is the English common people
call the stomach a bread-basket, for it has no meanin' there.
They should have called it a meat-tray, for they are the boys
for beef and mutton. But with us it's the identical thing.
They clear the table in no time, it's a grand thing, for it saves
the servants trouble. And a steak, and a dish of chops, added
to what the ladies had, is grand. The best way to make a pie
is to make it in the stomach. But flour fixins piping hot is the
best, and as their disgestion ain't good, it is better to try a
little of everything on table to see which best agrees with them.
So down goes the Johnny cakes, Indian flnppers, Lucy Neals,
Hoe cakes — with toast, fine cookies, rice batter, Indian batter,
Kentucky batter, flannel cakes, and clam fritters. Super-supe-
rior fine flour is the wholesomest thing in the world, and you
can't have too much of it. It's grand lor pastry, and that is as
light and as flakey as snow when well made. How can it make
paste inside of you and be wholesome ? If you would believe
some Yankee doctors you'd think it would make the stomach a
regular glue pot. They pretend to tell you pap made of it
will kill a baby as dead as a herring. But doctors must have
some hidden thing to lay the blame of their ignorance on. Once
when they didn't know what was the matter of a child, they
said it was water in the brain, and now when it dies — oh, they
say, the poor thing was killed by that pastry flour. But they
be hanged. How can the best of anything that is good be bad ?
The only thing is to be sure a thing is best, and then go a-liead
with it.

" Well, when the men get to their offices, they are hall
roasted alive, and have to take ices to cool them, and then for
fear the cold will heat them, they have to take brandy cock-tail
to counteract it. So they keep up a sort of artificial fever and
ague all day. The ice gives the one, and brandy the other,
like shuttlecock and battledore. If they had walked down as
they had ought to have done, in the cool of the morning, they
would have avoided all this.

" How different it is now in the country, ain't it ? What a

TOWV AND COUNTKV.

200

clorio'.iH thing tho sun-ri(u> Ih! How Ixniitifiil tho (l«nv-fipnnglt'd
uumIu'h, niul tlu' jH-jirly drops they j*h«'(l, art- 1 JIow Hwtrt and
cool JH tht' morning air, and iiow rctrcithing nnd hrn«'ing tho
light hrt'i'/.t' is to the nerves that have been relaxed in warm
re|M»He! The new-ploughed earth, the snowy-headt'd elover, tho
wihl fli)werH, the blooming tree^. and the bal»amic Mpnice, all
exhale their fragrance to invite you forth. While the binU offer
up their morning hymn, as if to proelaim that all things praise
the Lord. Tho lowing herd remind you that they have kept
their appointed time*, and the freshening breezes, as they swell
in the forest and awaken the sleeping leaves, seem to whisper,
'We too come with healing on our wings;' and the babbling
brook, that it also has its mission to minister to your wants.
Oh, morning in the country is a glorious thing, and it is impos-
sible wluii one rises and walks forth and surveys the scene not
to exi'laim, ' God is good.'

*' Oh, that early hour has health, vigour, and cheerfulness
in it. How natund it seems to me, how familiar 1 am with
everything it indicates! The dew tells me there will be no
showers, the white frost warns me of its approach ; and if that
does not arrive in time, the sun instructs me to notice and re-
mend)er, that if it rises bright and clear and soon disappears in
u cloud, I must prepare for heavy rain. The birds and the ani-
nuds all, all say, 'We too are cared for, and we have our fore-
knowledge, which we disclose by our conduct to you." Tho
brooks too have meaning in their voices, and the southern sen-
tinel proclaims aloud, ' Prepare.' And the western, ' All is well.'
" Oh, how well I know the face of nature ! What pleasure
I take as I commence my journey at this hour, to witness the
rising of the mist in the autumn from the low grounds, and it8
pausing on the hill-tops, as if regretting the scene it was about
to leave ! And how I admire the little insect webs, that are
spangled over the field at that time ; and the partridge warming
itself in the first gleam of sunshine it can discover on the road!
The alder, as I descend into the glen, gives me notice that the
first trost has visited him, as it always does, before others, to
warn liim that it has arrived to claim every leaf of the forest as
its own. Oh, the country is the place for peace, health, b(\auty,
and innocence. I. love it, I was bom in it. I lived the greater
part of my life there, and I look forward to die in it.

" How different from town life is that of the country ! There
are duties to be performed in-door and out-door, and the in-
mates assemble round their breakfast-table, refreshed by sleep
and invigorated by the cool air, partake of their simple, plain,
and substantial meal, with the relish of health, cheerfulness, and

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WEBSTER, N.Y. MS«0

(716) 872-4503

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270

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

appetite. The open window admits the fresh breeze, in hnppr
ig.«iorance of dust, noise, or fashionable darkness. The yei'undah
defies rain or noon-day sun, and employment affords no room
for complaint that the day is hot, the weather oppressive, the
nerves weak, or the digestion enfeebled. There can be no hap-
piness wheie there is an alternation of listlessness and excite-
ment. They are the two extremes between which it resides,
and that locality to my mind is the country. Care, disease,
sorrow, and disappointment are common to both. They are the
lot of humanity ; but the children of mammon, and of God, bear
them differently.

" I didn't mtend to turn preacher, Doctor, but I do posi-
tively believe, if I hadn't a been a clockmaker, dear old Minister
would have made me one. I don't allot, though, I would have
taken in SlickviUe, for I actilly think I couldn't help waltzing
with the galls, which would have put our folks into fits, or kept
old Clay, clergymen like, to leave sinners behind me. I can't
make out these puritan fellows, or evangelical boys, at all. To
my mind, religion is a cheerful thing, intended to make us happy,
not miserable ; and that our faces, like that of nature, should be
smiling, and that like birds we should sing and carol, and like
lilies, we should be well arrayed, and not that our countenances
should make folks believe we were chosen vessels, containing,
not the milk of human kindness, but horrid sour vinegar and
acid mothery grounds. AVhy, the very swamp behind our house
is full of a plant called * a gall's side-saddle.' *

" Plague take them old Independents ; I can't and never
could understand them. I believe if Bishop Laud had allowed
them to sing through their noses, pray ^vithout gowns, and
build chapels without steeples, they would have died cut like
Quakers, by being let alone. They wanted to make the state
believe they were of consequence. If the state had treated them
as if they were of no importance, they would have felt that too
very soon. Opposition made them obstinate. They won't stick
at nothing to carry their own ends.

" They made a law once in Connecticut that no man should
ride or drive on a Sunday except to a conventicle. "Well, an
old Dutch governor of New York, when that was called New
Amsterdam and belonged to Holland, once rode into the colony
on horseback on a Sabbath day, pretty hard job it was too, for
he was a very stout man, and a poor horseman. There were no
wheel carriages in those days, and he had been used to home
to travel in canal boats, and smoke at his ease ; but he had to
make the journey, and he did it, and he arrived just as the puri-
* This is the common name for the Sarracenia.

caj

dij
fiii

h(
bi

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

271

tans were coming out of meeting, and going home, slowly, stately,
and solemnly, to their cold dinner cooked the day before (for
they didn't think it no harm to make 8er>'ant8 work double tides
on Saturday), their rule being to do anything of a week day, but
nothing on the Sabbath.

•' "VVell, it was an awful scandal this, and a dreadful violation
of the blue laws of the young nation. Connecticut and New
Amsterdam (New York) were nothing then but colonies ; but
the puritans owed no obedience to princes, and set up for them-
selves. The elders and ministry and learned men met on Mon-
day to consider of this dreadful profanity of the Dutch governor.
On the one hand it was argued, if he entered their state (for
so they called it then) he was amenable to their laws, and ought
to be cited, condemned, and put into the stocks, as an example
to evil-doers. On the other hand, they got hold of a Dutch
book on the Law of Nations, to cite agin him ; but it was writ-
ten in Latin, and although it contained all about it, they
couldn't find the place, for their minister said there was no in-
dex to it. Well, it was said, if we are independent, so is he,
and whoever heard of a king or a prince being put in the stocks ?
It bothered them, so they sent their Yankee governor to him
to bully and threaten him, and see how he Avoiild take it, as we
now do, at the present day, to Spain about Cuba, and England
about your fisheries.

" Well, the governor made a long speech to him, read him a
chapter in the Bible, and then expounded it, and told him they
must put him in the stocks. All this time the Dutchman went
on smoking, and blowing out great long puffs of tobacco. At
last he paused, and said :

" ' You be tamned. Stockum me — stockum teivel.* And he
laid down his pipe, and with one hand took hold of their governor
by the fore-top, and with the other drew a line across his fore-
head and said, * Den I declare war, and Gooten Himmol ! I shall
scalp vou all.'

" After delivering himself of that long speech, he poured oat
two glasses of Schiedam, drunk one himself, and offered the
Yankee governor the other, who objected to the word Schiec^w,
as it terminated in a profane oath, with which, he said, the
Dutch language was greatly defiled ; but seeing it was also
called Geneva, he would swallow it. Well, his high mightiness
didn't understand him, but he opened his eyes like an owl and
stared, and said, * Dat is tam coot,' and the conference broke up.

" Well, it was the first visit of the Dutch governor, and they
hoped it would be the last, so they passed it over. But his
business was important, and it occupied him the whole week to

272

TOWN AND OOUNTBY.

settle it, and he took his leave on Saturday evening, and was to
set out for home on Sunday acaiu. Well, this was considered
as adding insult to injury. What was to be done ? Now it's
very easy and very proper for us to sit down and condemn the
DuKe of' Tuscany, who encourages pilgrims to go to shrines
where marble statues weep blood, and cataliptic ^alls let flies
walk over their eyes without winking, and yet imprisons an
English lady for giving away the * Pilgrim's Progress.' It's very
wrong, no doubt, but it ain t very new after all. Ignorant and
bigoted people always have persecuted, and always will to the
end of tne chapter. But what was to be done with his high
mightiness, the Dutch governor ? Well, they decided that it
was not lawful to put him into the stocks ; but that it was law-
ful to deprive him of the means of sinning. So one of the
elders swapped horses with him, and when he started on the
Sabbath, the critter was so lame after he went a mile, he had to
return and wait till Monday.

" No, I don't understand these puritan folks ; and I sup-
pose if I had been a preacher they wouldn't have understood
me. But I must get back to where I left off. I was a talkin'
about the difference of life in town and in the country, and how
in the world I got away, off from the subject, to the Butch go-
vernor and them puritans, I don't know. When I say I love
the country, I mean it in its fullest extent, not merely old set"
tlements and rural districts, but the great unbroken forest.
This is a taste, I believe, a man must have in early life. I don't
think it can be acquired in middle age, any more than playin'
marbles can, though old Elgin tried that game and made money
at it. A man must know how to take care of himself, forage
for himself, shelter himself, and cook for himself. It's no place
for an epicure, because he can't carry his cook, and his spices,
and sauces, and all that, with him. Still a man ought to know
a goose from a gridiron ; and if he wants to enjoy the sports of
the flood and the forest, he should be able to help himself; and
what he does he ought to do well. Fingers were made afore
knives and forks ; flat stones before bake-pans ; crotched sticks
before jacks ; bark before tin ; and chips before plates ; and it's
worth knowing how to use them or form them.

" It takes two or three years to build and finish a good house.
A wigwam is knocked up in an hour ; and as you have to be your
own architect, carpenter, mason, and labourer, it's just as well
to be handy as not. A critter that can't do that, hante the gump-
tion of a bear who makes a den, a fox who makes a hole, or a
bird that makes a nest, let alone a beaver, who is a d»b at house
building. No man can enjoy the woods that ain't up to these

o
n

\i
u

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

273

mow
rt8 of
and
afore v
iticks /
Ldit's ^

your

well
jump-

or a
house

these

things. If he ain't, he had better stay to his hotel, where there
is one scnant to clean his shoes, another to brush his coat, a
third to make his bed, a fourth to shave him, a fifth to cook for
him, a sixth to wait on him, a seventh to wash for him, and half
a dozen more for him to scold and bless all day. That's a place
where he can go to bed, and get no sleep — go to dinner, and nave
no appetite — go to the window, and get no fresh air, but snuff
up the perfume of drains, bar-rooms, and cooking ranges — suffer
from heat, because he can't wear his coat, or from politeness,
because he can't take it off — or go to the beach, where the sea
breeze won't come, it's so far up the country, where the white
sand will dazzle, and where there is no shade, because trees won't
grow — or stand and throw stones into the water, and then jump
in arter 'em in despair, and forget the way out. He'd better do
anything than go to the woods.

" But if he can help himself like a man, oh, it's a glorious
place. The ways of the forest are easy to learn, its nature is
simple, and the cooking plain, while the fare is abundant. Fish
for the catching, deer for the shooting, cool springs for the drink-
ing, wood for the cutting, appetite for eating, and sleep that
waits no wooing. It comes with the first star, and tames till
it fades into morning. For the time you are monarch of all you
survey. No claimant forbids you ; no bailiff haunts you ; no
thieves molest you ; no fops annoy you. If the tempest rages
without, you are secure in your lowly tent. Though it humbles
in its fury the lofty pine, and uproob the stubborn oak, it passes
harmlessly over you, and you feel for once you are a free and
independent man. Tou realize a term which is a fiction in our
constitution. Nor pride nor envy, hatred nor malice, rivalry nor
strife is there. Tou are at peace with all the world, and the
world is at peace with you. Tou ovra not its authority. Tou
can worship God after your own fashion, and dread not the name
of bigot, idolater, heretic, or schismatic. The forest is his
temple — he is ever present, and the still small voice of your
short and simple prayer seems more audible amid the silence
that reigns around you. Tou feel that you are in the presence
of your Creator, before whom you humble yourself, and not of
man, before whom you clothe yourself with pride. Tour very
solitude seems to impress you with the belief that, though hidden
from the world, you are more distinctly visible, and more indi-
vidually an object of Divine protection, than any worthless atom
like yourself ever could be in the midst of a multitude — a mere
unit of millions. Tes, you are free to come, to go, to stay ; your
home is co-extensive with the wild woods. Perhaps it is better

274

TOWN AND OOUNTRT.

for a solitary retreat than a permanent borne ; still it forms a
part of what I call the country.

" At Country Harbour we nad a sample of the simple, plain,
natural, unpretending way in which neighbours meet oi an even-
ing in the rural districts. But look at that house in the town,
where we saw the family assembled at breakfast this morning,
and see what is goin^ on there to-night. It is the last party of
the season. The family leave the city in a week for the country.
What a delightful change from the heated air of a town-house,
to the quiet retreat of an hotel at a watering-place, where there
are only six hundred people collected. It is positively the very
last party, and would have been given weeks ago, but everybody
was engaged for so long a time a-head, there was no getting the
fashionable folks to come. It is a charming ball. The old ladies
are fully dressed, only they are so squeezed against the walls,
their diamonds and pearls are hid. And the young ladies are
so lightly dressed, tney look lovely. And the old gentlemen
seem so happy as they walk round the room, and smile on all
the acquaintances of their early days ; and tell every one they
look 60 well, and their daughters are so handsome. It ain't pos-
sible they are bored, and they try not even to look so. And the
room is so well lighted, and so well filled, perhaps a little too
much so to leave space for the dancers ; but yet not more so
than is fashionable. And then the young gentlemen talk so en-
chantingly about Paris, and London, and Eome, and so dispar-
agingly of home, it is quite refreshing to hear them. And they
have been in such high society abroad, they ought to be well
bred, tor they know John Manners, and all the Manners family,
and well informed in politics ; for they know John Russell, who
never says I'll be hanged if I do this or that, but I will be be-
headed if I do ; in allusion to one of his great ancestors who was
as innocent of trying to subvert the constitution as he is. And
they have often seen * Albert, Albert, Prince of Wales, and all
the royal family,' as they say in England for shortness. They
have travelled with their eyes open, ears open, mouths open, and
pockets open. They have heard, seen, tasted, and bought every-
thing worth having. They are capital judges of wine, and that
reminds them there is lots of the best in the next room ; but
they soon discover they can't have it in perfection in America.
It has been nourished for the voyage, it has been fed with brandy.
It is heady, for when they return to their fair friends, their hands
are not quite steady, they are apt to spill things over the ladies
dresses (but they are so good-natured, they only laugh ; for they
never wear a dress but wunst). And their eyes sparkle like

c
1
I

a
ii
I

a
s

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

275

and

dies
;hey
like

jewels, and they look at their partners as if they would eat *ein
up. And 1 guess they tell them so, for they start sometimes,
and say:

" ' Oh, well now, that's too bad ! Why how you talk ! Well,
travellin' hasn't improved you.'

" But it must be a charming thiug to be eat up, for they look
delighted at the very idea of it ; and their mammas seem pleased
that they are so much to the taste of these travelled gentlemen.

" Well then, dancing is voted a bore by the handsomest couple
in the room, and they sit apart, and the uninitiated think they
are making love. And they tidk so confidentially, and look so
amused ; tney seem delighted with each other. But they are
only criticising,

"• Who is pink skirt ? '

"* Blue-nose Mary.'
- " ' What in the world do they call her Blue-nose for ? *

" ' It is a nickname for the Nova Scotians. Her father is
one ; he made his fortune by a diving-JeW.'

" ' Did he ? Well, it's quite right then it should go with a
helle.^

" * How very good ! May I repeat that ? Tou do say such
clever things \ And who is that pale girl that reminds you of
brown holland, bleached white ? She looks quite scriptural ; she
has a proud look and a high stomach.'

" ' That's Eachael Scott, one of my very best friends. She is
as good a girl as ever lived. My ! I wish I was as rich as she
is. I have only three hundred thousand dollars, but she will
have four at her father's death if he don't bust and fail. But,
dear me ! how severe you are ! I am quite afraid of you. I
wonder what you will say of me when my back is turned I *

"♦Shall I tell you?'

" * Yes, if it isn't too savage.'

" The hint about the money is not lost, for he is looking for
a fortune, it saves the trouble of making one ; and he whispers
something in her ear that pleases her uncommonly, for she sais •

" * Ah now, the severest thing you can do is to flatter me that
way.'

" They don't discourse of the company any more ; they have
too much to say to each other of themselves now.

" * My ! what a smash ! what in the world is that ? '

" * Nothing but a large mirror. It is lucky it is broken, for
if the host saw himself in it, he might see the face of a fool.'

" ' How uproariously those young men talk, and how loud
the music is, and how confounded hot the room is ! I must go

270

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

home. But I must wait a moment till that noisy, tipsy hoy \b
dragged down-stairs, and shoved into a hack.'

'' And this is upstart life, is it ? Yes, but there are changing
Bcenes in life. Look at these rooms next morning. The chan-
delier is broken ; the centre table upset, the curtains are
ruined, the carpets are covered with ice-creams, jellies, blanc-
manges, and broken glass. And the elegant album, souvenirs,
and autograph books, are all in the midst of this nasty mess.*
The couches are greasy, the silk ottoman shows it has been sat
in since it met with an accident which was only a tri/le, and
there has been the devil to pay everywhere. A doctor is seen
going into the house, and soon after a coffin is seen coming out.
An unbidden guest, a disgusting levelling democrat came to that
ball, how or when no one knew ; but there he is and there he will
remain for the rest of the summer. He has victimized one poor
girl already, and is now strangling another. The yellow fever is
there. Nature has sent her avenging angel. There is no safety
but in flight.

*' Good gracious ! if people will ape their superiors, why
won't they imitate their elegance as well as their extravagance,
and learn that it is the refinement alone of the higher orders
which in all countries distinguishes them from the rest of man-
kind ? The decencies of life, when polished, become its brightest
ornaments. Gold is a means, and not an end. It can do a great
deal, still it can't do everything ; and among others I guess it
can't make a gentleman, or else California would be chock full
of 'em. No, give me the country, and the folks that live in
it, I say."

CHAPTEE XXI.

THE HONETMOON". ^ '

After having given vent to the foregoing lockrum, I took
Jehosophat Bean's illustrated " Biography of the Eleven Hun-
dred and Seven Illustrious American Heroes," and turned in to
read a spell ; but arter a while I lost sight of the heroes and
their exploits, and I got into a wide spekilation on all sorts of
subjects, and among the rest my mind wandered off to Jordan

*■ • Whoever thinks this description over-drawn, is referred to a remarkably
clever work which lately appeared in New York, entitled "The Potiphar
Papers." Mr Slick has evidently spared this class of society.

THE nONEYMOON.

277

nver, the CoUingwood girls in particular, and Jessie and the
doctor, and the Beaver-dam, and its inmates in general. I shall
set down my musings as if I was thinking aloud.

I wonder, sais I to myself, whether Sophy and I shall be
happy together, sposin' always, that she is wiUing to put her
head into the yoke, for that's by no means sartain yet. I'll
know better when I can study her more at leisure. Still matri-
mony is always a risk, where you don't know what sort of
breaking a critter has had when young. Women in a general
way don't look like the same critters when they are spliced,
that they do before ; matrimony, like sugar and water, has a
nateral afiBnity for and tendency to acidity. The clear, beauti-
ful, bright sunshine of the wedding morning is too apt to cloud
over at twelve o'clock, and the afternoon to be cold, raw, and
uncomfortable, or else the heat generates storms that fairly
make the house shake, and the happy pair tremble again. Every-
body knows the real, solid grounds Which can alone make mar-
ried life perfect. I should only prose if I was to state them,
but I have an idea as cheerfulness is a great ingredient, a gdod
climate has a vast deal to do with it, for who can be chirp in a
bad one ? Wedlock was first instituted in Paradise. Well, there
must have been a charming climate there. It could not have been
too hot, for Eve never used a parasol, or even a " kiss-me-quick,"
and Adam never complained, though he wore no clothes, that the
sun blistered his skin. It couldn't have been wet, or thev would
have coughed all the time, like consumptive sheep, and it would
have spoiled their garden, let alone giving them the chilblains
and the snuffles. They didn't require umbrellas, uglies, fans, or
India-rubber shoes. There was no such a thing as a stroke of
the sun or a snow-drift there. The temperature must ha\e
been perfect, and connubial bliss, I allot, was rael jam up. The
only thing that seemed wanting there, was for some one to drop
in to tea now and then for Eve to have a good chat with, while
Adam was a studyin' astronomy, or tryin' to invent a kettle
that would stand fire ; for women do like talking, that's a fact,
and there are many little things they have to sav to each other
that no man has any right to hear, and if he did, he couldn't
understand.

It's like a dodge Sally and I had to blind mother. Sally was
for everlastingly leaving the keys about, and every time there
was an inquiry about them, or a hunt for them, the old lady
would read her a proper lecture. So at last she altered the
name, and said, " Sam, wo is shlizel ?'* instead of Where is the
key, and she tried all she could to find it out, but she couldn't
for the life of her. .

278

THE HONEYMOON.

Yes, what can bo expected of such a climate as Nova Scotia
or England ? Though the first can ripen Indian com and the
other can't, and that is a great test, 1 can tell you. It is hard
to tell which of them is wuss, for both are bad enough, gracious
knows, and yet the fools that live in them brag that their own
beats all natur. If it is the former, well then thunder don't
clear the weather as it does to the South, and the sun don't
come out bright again at wunst and all natur look clear and
tranquil and refreshed ; and the flowers and roses don't hang
their heads down coily for the breeze to brush the drops from
their newly-painted leaves, and then hold up and Iook more
lovely than ever; nor does the voice of song and merriment
arise from every tree ; nor fragrance and peHume fill the air,
till you are tempted to say, Now did you ever see anything so
charming as this ? nor do you stroll out arm-in-arm (that is,
sposin' you ain't in a nasty dirty horrid town), and feel pleased
with the dear married gall and yourself, and all you see and
hear, whileyou drink in pleasure with every sense — oh, it don't
do that. Ijiunder unsettles everything for most a week, there
seems no end to the gloom during these three or four days.
You shiver if you don't make a fire, and if you do vou are
fairly roasted alive. It's all grumblin' and growlin' within, and
all mud, slush, and slop outside. You are bored to death every-
where. And if it's English climate it is wuss still, because in
Nova Scotia there is an end to all this at last, for the west wind
blows towards the end of the week soft and cool and bracing,
and sweeps away the clouds, and lays the dust and dries all up,
•and makes everything smile again. But if it is English it's un-
settled and uncertain all the time. You can't depend on it for
an hour. Now it rains, then it clears, after that the sun shines ;
but it rains too, both together, like hystericks, laughing and
crying at the same time. The trees are loaded with water, and
hold it like a sponge ; touch a bough of one with your hat, and
you are drowned in a shower-bath. There is no hope, for there
IS no end visible, and when there does seem a little glimpse of
light, so as to inak:e you think it is a going to relent, it wraps
itself up in a foggy, drizzly mist, and sulks like anything.

In this country they have a warm summ<jr, a magnificent
autumn, a clear, cold, healthy winter, but no sort of spring at
all. In England they have no summer and no winter. * Now,
in my opinion, that makes the difference in temper between the
two races. The clear sky and bracing air here, when they do
come, give the folks good spirits ; but the extremes of heat and
cold limit the time, and decrease the inclination for exercise.
* I wonder what Mr Slick would say now, in 1855 i

air.

THE HONEYMOON.

270

Still the people are good-natured, merry fellows. In England,
the pen)etual gloom of the sky aflects the disposition of the
men. America knows no such temjier us exists in Britain.
People here can't even form an idea of it. Folks often cut
off their children there in their wills for half nothing, won't bo
reconciled to them on any terms, if they once displease them,
and both they and their sons die game, and when death sends
cards of invitation for the last assemblage of a family, they write
declensions. There can't be much real love where there is no
tenderness. A gloomy sky, stately houses, and a cold, formal
people, make Cupid, like a bird of passage, spread his wings,
and take flight to a more congenial climate.

Castles liave show • apartments, and the vulgar gaze with
stupid wonder, and envy the owners. But there are rooms in
them all, not exhibited. In them the imprisoned bird may oc-
casionally be seen, as in the olden time, to flutter against the
casement and pine in the gloom of its noble cage. There are
chambers too in which grief, anger, jealousj^, wounded pride,
and disappointed ambition, pour out their sighs, their groans,
and imprecations, unseen au«. unheard. The halls resound with
mirth and revelry, and the eye grows dim with its glittering
splendour ; but amid all this ostentatious brilliancy, poor human
nature refuses to be comforted with diamonds and pearls, or to
acknowledge that happiness consists in gilded galleries, gay
equipages, or fashionable parties. They are cold and artificial.
The neart longs to discard this joyless pageantry, to surround
itself with human affections, and only asks to love and be
loved.

Still England is not wholly composed of castles and cot-
tages, and there are very many happy homes in it, and thou-
sands upon thousands of ha{)py people in them, in spite of the
melancholy climate, the destitution of the poor, and the luxury
of the rich. God is good. He is not only merciful, but a just
judge. He equalizes the condition of all. The industrious poor
man is content, for he relies on Providence and his own ex-
ertions for his daily bread. He earns his food, and his labour
gives him a zest for it. Ambition craves, and is never satisfied,
one is poor amid his prodigal wealth, the other rich in his frugal
poverty. iVb man is rich whose expenditure exceeds his means ;
and no one is poor whose incomings exceeds his outgoings. Bar-
ring such things as climate, over which we have no control,
happiness, in my idea, consists in the mind, and not in the
purse. These are plain common truths, and everybody will tell
you there is nothing new in them, just as if there was any-
thing new under the sun but my wooden clocks, and yet they

280

THE nONEYMOOlf.

onlj aay lo because they can't deny them, for who acts as if bo
ever heard of them before. Mow, if tht'y do know them, why
the plague don't they reflate their timepieces by them P If
they did, matrimony wouldn't make such an everlastiu' trans-
Diogriticutiou of folxs as it does, would it ?

The way cupidists scratch their head and open their eyes
and stare after they are married, reminds mo of Felix Cul-
pepper. He was a judge at Saint Lewis, on the Mississippi,
anu the lawyers used to talk (pbberish to him, you^erry, eye-
perry, iggcry, ogerry, and tell him it wjis Littleton's >torman
French and Law Latin. It fairly onfakilised him. Wedlock
works just such changes on folks sometimes. It makes me
laugh, and then it fairly scares me.

Sophy, dear, how will you and I get on, eh ? The Lord only
knows, but you are an uncommon seuttible gall, and people tell
me till I begin to believe it myself, that I have some common
sense, so we must try to learn the chart of life, so as to avoid
those sunk rocks so many people make shipwreck on. I have
often asked myseli' the reason of all this onsartainty. Let us
jist see how folks talk and think, and decide on this subject.
First and foremost they have got a great many cant terms, and
you can judge a good deal from them. There is the honeymoon,
now, was there ever such a silly word as that ? Minister said
the Dutch at New Amsterdam, as they used to call New York,
brought out the word to America, for all the friends of the new
married couple, in Holland, did nothing for a whole month but
smoke, drink metheglin (a tipple made of honey and gin), and
they called that bender the honeymoon ; since then the word
has remained, though metheglin is forgot for something better.

Well, when a couple is married now, they give up a whole
month to each other, what an everlastin' sacrifice, ain't it, out
of a man's short life ? The reason is, they say, the metheglin
gets sour after that, and ain't palatable no more, and what is
left of it is used for picklin' cucumbers, peppers, and naster-
tions, and what not. Now, as Brother Eldad, the doctor, says,
let US dissect this phrase, and find out what one whole moon
means, and then we shall understand what this wonderful thing
is. The new moon now, as a body might say, ain't nothing. It's
iust two small lines of a semicircle, like half a wheel, with a
little strip of white in it, about as big as a cart tire, and it sets
a little an;er sundown ; and as it gives no light, you must either
use a candle or go to bed in the dark : now that's the first week,
and it's no great shakes to brag on, is it ? Well, then there is
the first quarter, and calling that the first which ought to be
'^ second, luiless the moon has only three quarters, which sounds

THE IIONimiOON.

291

pdd, ■! that the new moon countii for nothin*. Woll, the
firet qunnt r it something like tiie thing, though not the renl

genuine article either. lt*s hettcr than the other, but its light
on't quite satisfy us neither. Well, then comes the full mimn,
and that is all there is, as one may fiay. Now, neither the moon
nor nothin' else can be more than full, and when you have got
all, there is nothing more to exiH'ct. But a man must be a
bloi'khead, indeed, to exi)i>ct the moon to remain one minute
after it is full, as every night clips a little bit oiV, till there is a
considerable junk gone by the time the week iw'out, and what
is worse, every night there is n>oro and more darkness afore it
rises. It comes reluctant, and when it docs arrive it haute long
to stay, for the lost quarter takes its turn at the lantern. That
^nly rises a little afore the sun, as if it was ashamed to be
caught napping at that hour — that quarter therefore is nearly
as dark as ink. So you see, the new and last quarter go for
nothing; that everybody will adnut. The first ani't mueh bet-
ter, but the last half of that quarter and the first of the full,
make a very decent respectable week.

Well, then, what's all this when it's fried ? Why, it amounts
to this, that if there is any resemblance between a lunar and
a lunatic month, that the honeymoon lasts only one good week.
Don't be skeared, Sophy, when you read this, because we
must look things in the face and call them by their right name.
Well, then, let us call it the honey-week. Now if it takes a
whole month to make one honey-week, it must cut to waste
terribly, mustn't it ? But then you know a man can't wive and
thrive the same year. Now wastin' so much of that precious
month is terrible, ain't it ? But oh me, bad as it is, it ain't the
worst of it. There is no insurance office for happiness, there is
no policy to be had to cover losses — you must bear them all
yourself. Now suppose, just suppose for one moment, and
positively such things have happened before now, they have
indeed; I have known them occur more than once or twice
myself among my own friends, fact, I assure you. Suppose now
that week is cold, cloudy, or uncomfortable, where is the honey-
moon then ? Eecollect there is only one of them, there ain't
two. You can't say it rained cats and dogs this week, let us
try the next ; you can't do that, it's over and gone for ever.
Well, if you begin life with disappointment, it is apt to end in
despair.

Now, Sophy, dear, as I said before, don't get skittish at see-
ing this, and start and race off and vow you won't ever let the
halter be put on you, for I kinder sorter guess that, with your
sweet temper, good sense, and lovin' heart, and with the light-

282

THE HONEYMOON.

'V:;:.''

hand I have for a rein, our honeymoon will last through life.
We will give up that silly word, that foolish boys and girla use
without knowing its meanin', and we will count by years and
not by months, and we won't expect, what neither marriage nor
any other earthly thing can give, perfect happiness. It tante in
the nature of things, and don't stand to reason, that earth is
Heaven, Slickville paradise, or you and me angels ; we ain't no
such a thing. If you was, most likely the first eastwardly wind
(and though it is a painful thing to confess it, I must candidly
admit there is an eastwardly wind sometimes to my place to
home), why you would just up wings and off to the sky like wink,
and say you didn't like the land of the puritans, it was just like
themselves, cold, hard, xmcongenial, and repulsive; and what
should I do ? Why most likely remain behmd, for there is no
marrying or giving in marriage up there.

!No, no, dear, if you are an angel, and positively you are amaz-
ingly like one, why the first time I catch you asleep I will clip
your wings and keep you here with me, until we are both ready
to start together. We won't hope for too much, nor fi:«t for
trifles, will we ? These two things are the greatest maxims in
life I know of. When I was a boy I used to call them command-
ments, but I got such a lecture for that, and felt so sony for it
afterwards, I never did again, nor will as long as I live. Oh, dear,
I shall never forget the lesson poor dear old Minister taught me
on that occasion.

There was a thanksgiving ball wunst to Slickville, and I
wanted to go, but I had no clothes suitable for such an occasion
as that, and father said it would cost more than it was worth to
rig me out for it, so I had to stop at home. Sais Mr Hopewell
to me,

" Sam," said he, " don't fret about it, you will find it ' all the
same a year hence.' As that holds good in most things, don't
it show us the folly now of those trifles we set our hearts on,
when in one short year they will be disregarded or forgotten?"

" Never fear," said I, " i am not a going to break the twelfth
commandment."

"Twelfth commandment," said he, repeatin' the words slowly,
laying down his book, taking off his spectacles, and lookin' hard
at me, almost onfakilised. '' Twelfth commandment, did I hear
right, Sam," said he, " did you say that P "

Well, I saw there was a squall rising to windward, but boy
like, instead of shortening sail, and taking down royals and top-
gallajit masts, and making all snug, I just braved it out, and
prepared to meet the blast with every inch of canvas set. "Yes,
Sir,"saidl, "thetwellth."

1 li'

THE HONEYMOON.

283

i^h life.
Tiria use
>ar8 and
■iage nor
tante in
earth ia
ain't no
dly wind
candidly
place to
ike wink,
just like
ind what
ere is no

Eire amaz-
[ will clip
oth ready
p fret for
Qaxims in
jommand-
my for it
Oh, dear,
jaught me

le, and I

1 occasion

worth to

Hopewell

it 'all the
ngs, don't
hearts on,
pgotten?"
le twelfth

•ds slowly,
okin' hard
did I hear

1, hut hoy

s and top-

t out, and

et. "Yes,

"Dear me," said he, "poor boy, that is my fault. I renlly
thought you knew there were only ten, and had them by heni-t
years ago. They were among the first things I taught you. How
on earth could you have forgotten them so soon i' lit;|)€at them
to me."

Well, I went through them all, down to " anything that ia
his," to ampersand without making a single stop.

" Sam," said he, " don't do it again, that's a good soul, for it
frightens me. I thought I must have neglected you."

" Well," sais I, " there are two more, Sir,"

" Two more," he said, "why what under the sun do you mean?
what are they ? "

"Why," sais I, 'the eleventh is, 'Expect nothin', and you
shall not be disappointed,' and the tweli'th is, 'Fret not thy
gizzard.' "

"And pray, Sir," said he, lookin' thunder-squalls at me,
" where did you learn them ? "

" From Major Zeb Vidito," said I.

" Major Zeb Vidito," he replied, " is the greatest reprobate
in the army. He is the wretch who boasts that he fears neither
God, man, nor devil. Go, my son, gather up your books, and
go home. You can return to your father. My poor house has
no room in it for Major Zeb Vidito, or his pupil, Sam Slick, or
any such profane wicked people, and may the Lord have mercy
on you."

Well, to make a long story shore, it brought me to my bear-
ings that. I had to heave to, lowf r a boat, send a white flag to
him, beg pardon, and so on, and wa knocked up a treaty of peace,
and made friends again.

' I won't say no more about it, Sam," said he, " but mind my
words, and apply your experience to it afterwards in life, and see
if I ain't right. Crime has but tivo travelling companions. It
commences tts journey untk the scoffer, and ends it with the bias-
phemer: not that talking irreverently ain't very improper in it-
self, but it destroys the sense of right and wrong, and prepares
the way for sin."

Now, I won't call these commandments, for the old man was
right, it's no way to talk, I'll call them maxims. Now, we won't
expect too much, nor fret over trifles, will we, Sophy ? It takes
a great deal to make happiness, for everything must be in tune
like a piano ; but it takes very little to spoil it. Fancy a bride
now having a tooth-ache, or a swelled face during the honey-
moon — in courtship she won't show, but in marriage she can't
help it, — or a felon on her finger (it is to be hoped she hain't given
her hand to one) ; or fency now, just fancy, u hooping-cough

284.

THE HONEYMOON.

caug.'a in tlie cold church, that causes her to make a noise like
drowning, a great gurgling in-draught, and a great out-Mowing,
like a young spotting porpoise, and instead of being all alone
with her own deur husband, to have to admit the horrid doctor,
and take draughts that make her breath as hot as steam, and
submit to have nauseous garlic and brandy rubbed on her breast,
spine, palms of her hands, and soles of her feet, that makes the
bridegroom, every time he comes near her to ask her how she is,
sneeze, as if he was catching it himself. He don't say to him-
self in an under-tone damn it, how unlucky this is. Of course
not ; he is too happy to swear, if he ain't too good, as he ought
to be ; and she don't say, eigh — augh, like a donkey, for they
have the hooping-cough all the year round ; " d,.ar love, eigh —
augh, how wretched this is, ain't it ? eigh — augh," of course not ,
how can she be wretched ? Ain't it her honeymoon ? and ain'i;
she as happy as a bride can be, though she does eigh — augh he?
slippers up amost. But it won't last long, she feels sure it w^on't,
she is better now, the doctor says it will be soon over ; yes, but
the honeymoon will be over too, and it don't come like Christ-
mas, once a-year. When it expires, like a dying owan, it sings its
own funeral hymn.

Well, then fancy, just fancy, when she gets well, and looks as
chipper as a canary-bird, though not quite so yaller from the
effects of the cold, that the bridegroom has his turri, and is taken
down with the acute rheumatism, and can't move, tack nor sheet,
and has camphor, turpentine, and hot embrocations of all sorts
and kinds applied to him, till his room has the identical perfume
of a druggist's shop, while he screams if he aiu't moved, and yells
if he is, and his temper peeps out. It don't break out of course,
for he is a happy man ; but it just peeps out as a masculine he-
angel's would if he was tortured.

The fact is, lookin' at life, with its false notions, false hopes,
and false promises, my wonder is, not that mnrried folks don't
get on better, but that they get on as vrell as they do. If they
regard matrimony as a lottery, is it any wonder more blanks
than prizes turn up on the wheel ? Now, my idea of mating a
man is, that it is the same as matching a 'lorse ; the mate ought
to have the same spirit, the same action, the same temper, and
the same training. Each should do his part, or else one soon
becomes strained, sprained, and spavined, or broken- winded, and
that one is about the best in a general way that suffers the most.

Don't be shocked at the comparison; but to my mind a
splendiferous woman and a first chop horse is the noblest works
of creation. They take the rag off the bush quite ; a woman
" that will come " and a horse that " will go " ought to make any

THE HONEYMOON.

285

man happy. Give me a gall that all I have to say to is, " Quick,
pick up chips and call your father to dinner," and a horse that
enables you to say, " / am thar." That's all 1 ask. Now just
look at the different sorts of love-makiug in this world. Fii nt,
there is boy and gall love ; they are practising the gamut, and a
great bore it is to hear and see them ; but poor little tilings,
their whole heart and soul is in it, as they were the year before
on a doll or a top. They don't know a heart from a gizzard, and
if you ask them what a soul is, they will say it is the dear sweet
soul they love. It begins when they enter the dancing-school,
and ends when they go out into the world; but atler all, I be-
lieve it is the only real romance in life.

Then there is young maturity love, and what is that half the
time based on ? vanity, vanity, and the deuce a thing else. The
young lady is handsome, no, that's not the word, she is beauti-
ful, and is a belle, and all the young fellows are in her train. To
win the prize is an object of ambition. The gentleman rides
well, hunts and shoots well, and does everything well, and more-
over he is a fancy man, and all the girls admire him. It is a
great thing to conquer the hero, ain't it ? and distance all her
com])anions ; and it is a proud thing for him to win the prize
from higher, richer, and more distinguished men than himself.
It is the triumph of the two sexes. They are allowed to be the
handsomest couple ever married in that church. What an ele-
gant man, what a lovely woman, what a splendid bride ! they
seem made for each other ! how happy they both are, e;">8 can't
show — words can't express it ; they are the admiration of all.

If it is in England, they have two courses of pleasure before
them — to retire to a country-house or to travel. The latter is
a great bore, it exposes people, it is \evy annoying to be stared
at. Solitude is the thing. They are all the world to each other,
what do they desire beyond it -what more can they ask ? They
are quite happy. How long does it last ? for they have no re-
sources beyond excitement. Why, it lasts till the first juicy day
comes, and that comes soon in England, and the bridegroom
don't get up and look out of the window, on the cloudy sky, the
falling rain, and the inundated meadows, and think to himself,
" Well, this is too much bush, ain't it ? I wonder what de Courcy
and de Lacy and de Devilcourt are about to-day?" and then
turn round with a yawn that near ; dislocates his jaw. Not a
bit of it. He is the most happy man in England, and his wife
is an angel, and he don't throw himself down on a sofa and wish
they were back in town. It ain't natural he should ; and she
don't say, " Charles, you look dull, dear," nor he reply, " Well, to
tell you the truth, it is devilish dull here, that's a fact," nor she

I ii

286

THE HONEYMOON.

say, " Why, you are very complimentary," nor he rejoin, " No,
I don't mean it as a compliment, but to state it as a fact, what
that Yankee, what is his name ? Sam Slick, or Jim Crow, or
Uncle Tom, or somebody or another calls an established fact ! '*
Her eyes don't fill with tears at that, nor does she retire to her
room and pout and have a good cry ; why should she ? she is so
happy, ana when the honied honeymoon is over, they will return
to town, and all will be sunshine once more.

But there is one little thing both of them forget, which they
find out when they do return. They have rather just a little over-
looked or undervalued means, and they can't keep such an
establishment as they desire, or equal to their lormer friends.
They are both no longer single. He is not asked so often where
he used to be, nor courted and flattered as he lately was ; and
she is a married woman now, and the beaus no longer cluster
around her. Each one thinks the other the cause of this dread-
ful change. It was the imprudent and unfortunate match did
it. Affection was sacrificc^d to pride, and that deity can't and
won't help them, but takes pleasure in tormenting them. First
comes coldness, and then estrangement ; after that words ensue,
that don't sound like the voice of true love, and they fish on
their own hook, seek their own remedy, take their own road, and
one or the other, perhaps both, find that road leads to the devil.

Then, there is the " ring-fence match," which happens every-
w'nere. Two estates, or plantations, or farms adjoin, and there
is an only son in one, and an only daughter in the other ; and
the world, and fathers, and mothers, think what a suitable match
it would be, and what a grand thing a ring-fence is, and they
cook it up in the most fashionable style, and the parties most
concerned take no interest in it, and, having nothing particular
to object to, marry. Well, strange to say, half the time it don't
turn out bad, for as they don't expect much, they can't be much
disappointed. They get after a while to love each other from
habit ; and finding qualities they didn't look for, end by getting
amazin' fond of each other.

Next is a cash match. Well, that's a cheat. It begins in
dissimulation, and ends in detection and punishment. I don't
pity the parties ; it serves them right. They meet without plea-
sure, and part without pain. The first time I went to Nova
Scotia to v^end clocks, I fell in ^ith a German officer, who
married a woman with a large fortune; she had as much as
three hundred pounds. He could never speak of it without
getting up, walking round the room, rubbing his hands, and
smacking his lips. The greatest man he ever saw, his own
prince, had only five hundred a-year, and his daughters had to

THE HONEYMOON.

287

very-
there
and
match
they
most
icular
don't
much
from

select and buy the chickens, wipe the glasses, starch their own
muslins, and see the fine soap made. One half of them were
Protestants, and the other half CatLolies, so as to bait the hooks
for roval fish of either creed. They were poor and proud, but
he hadn't a morsel of pride in him, for he had condescended to
marry the daughter of a staff" surgeon ; and she wam't poor, for
she had three hundred pounds. He couldn't think ot notliin'
but his fortune. He spent the most of his time in building
castles, not in Germany, but in the air, for they cost nothing.
He used to delight to go marooning * for a day or two in Mait-
land settlement, where old soldiers are located, and measured
every man he met by the gauge of his purse. " Dat poor teevil,"
he would say, " is wort twenty pounds, wall, I am good for tree
hundred, in gold and silver, and proviJich notes, and de mort-
gage on Burkit Crowse's farm for twenty-five pounds ten shil-
lings and eleven pence halfpenny — fifteen times as much as he is,
Eesides ten pounds interest." If he rode a horse, he calculated
ow many he could purchase ; and he found they would make
an everlastin' cahoot.f If he sailed in a boat, he counted the
flotilla he could buy ; and at last he used to think, " Veil now,
if my vrow would go to de depot (graveyard) vat is near to de
church, Goten Himmel, mid my fortune I could marry any pody
I liked, who had shtock of cattle, shtock of clothes, and shtock
in de Bank, pesides farms and foresht lands, and dyke lands,
and meadow lands, and vind-mill and vater-mill ; but dere is no
chanse she shall die, for I was dirty (thirty) when T married
her, and she was dirty-too (thirty-two) . Tree hundred pounds !
Veil, it's a great shum ; but vat shall I do mid it ? If I leave
him mid a lawyer, he say, Mr Von Sheik, you gub it to me. If
I put him into de pank, den de ting shall break, and my forten
go smash, squash — vot dey call von shilling in de pound. If I
lock him up, den soldier steal and desert away, and conetry
people shall hide him, and I will not find him no more. I shall
mortgage it on a farm. I feel vary goot, vary pig, and vary rich.
If I would not lose my bay and commission, I would kick de
colonel, kiss his vife, and put my cane thro' his vinder. I don't
care von damn for nopoty no more."

Well, his wife soon after that took a day and died ; and he
followed her to the grave. It was the first time he ever gave
her precedence, for he was a disciplinarian ; he knew the ditler-
ence of " rank and file," and liked to give the word of com-

♦ Marooninflf differs from pic-nicing in this — the former continues several
days, the other ksts but one.

f Cahoot is one of the new coinage, and in Mexico, means a band or ca-
valcade.

288

THE HONEYMOON.

niand, " Rear rank, take open order — march ! " "Well, I con-
doled with him about his loss. Sais he : " Mr Shlick, I did'nt
lose much by her : the soldier carry her per order, de pand play
for noting, and de crape on de arm came from her ponnet.

" But the loss of your wife ? " said I.

Well, that excited him, and he began to talk Hessian.
' Juhes renovare dolorem,^' said he.

" I don't understand High Dutch," sais I, " when it's spoke
so almighty fast."

" It's a ted language," said he.

I was a goin' to tell him I didn't know the dead had any
language, but I bit in my breath.

" Mr Shlick," said he, " de vife is gone " (and clapping his
waistcoat pocket with his hand, and grinning like a chissy cat),
he added, " but de monish remain."

Yes, such fellows as Von Sheik don't call this ecclesiastical
and civil contract, wedlock. They use a word that expresses
their meaning better — ixmivx-money. Well, even money ain't all
gold, for there are two hundred and forty nasty, dirty, mulatto-
looking copper pennies in a sovereign ; and they have the af-
fectation to call the filthy incrustation, if they happen to be an-
cient coin, verd- antique. Well, fine words are like fine dresses ;
one often covers ideas that ain't nice, and the other sometimes
conceals garments that are a little the worse for wear. Ambi-
tion is just as poor a motive. It can only be gratified at the
expense of a journey over a rough road, and he is a fool who
travels it by a borrowed light, and generally finds he takes a
rise out of himself.

Then there is a class like Yon Sheik, " who feel so pig and
so hugeaciously grandiferous," they look on a wife's fortune
with contempt. The independent man scorns connection, sta-
tion, and money. He has got all three, and more of each than
is sufficient for a dozen men. He regards with utter indiffer-
ence the opinion of the world, and its false notions of life. He
can afford to please himself; he does not stoop if he marries be-
neath his own rank ; for he is able to elevate any wife to his.
He is a great admirer of beauty, which is confined to no circle
aid no region. The world is before him, and he will select a
woman to gratify himself and not another. He has the right
and ability to do so, and he fulfils his intention. Now an inde-
pendent man is an immoveable one until he is proved, and a
soldier is brave until the day of trial comes. He however is
independent and brave enough to set the opinion of the world
at defiance, and he marries. Until then society is passive, but
when defied and disobeyed, it is active, bitter, and relentless.

THE HONEYMOON.

280

and
irtune
, sta-
than
difFer-
He
es be-
to his.
circle
ilect a
right
inde-
and a

The conflict is only commenced — marrying is merely firing
the first gun. The battle has yet to be fought. If he can do
without tlie world, the world can do without him, but, if he
enters it again bride in hand, he must fight his way inch by
inch, and step by step. She is slighted and he is stung to the
Quick. She is ridiculed and he is mortified to death. He is
aole to meet open resistance, but he is for ever in dread of an
ambuscade. He sees a sneer in every smile, he fears an insult
in every whisper. The unmeaning jest must have a hidden point
for him. Politeness seems cold, even good-nature looks like the
insolence of condescension. If his wile is addressed, it is mani-
festly to draw her out. If her society is not sought, it is equally
()lain there is a conspiracy to place her in Coventry. To defend
ler properly, and to put her on her guard, it is necessary he
should know her weak points himself.

But, alas, in this painful investigation, his ears are wounded
by false accents, his eyes by false motions and vulgar attitudes,
he finds ignorance where ignorance is absurd, and knowledge
where knowledge is shame, and what is worse, this distressing
criticism has been forced upon him, and he has arrived at the
conclusion that beauty without intelligence is the most value-
less attribute of a woman. Alas, the world is an argus-eyed,
many-headed, sleepless, heartless monster. The independent
man, if he would retain his independence, must retire with his
wife to his own home, and it would be a pity if in thinking of
his defeat he was to ask himself. Was my pretty doll worth this
terrible struggle after all ? wouldn't it ? W ell, I pity that man,
for at most he has only done a foolish thing, and he has not
passed through life without being a public benefactor. He has
held a reversed lamp. While he has walked in the dark himself y
he has shed light on the path of others.

Ah, Sophy, when you read this, and I know you will, you'll
say. What a dreadful picture you have drawn ! it ain't like you
— you are too good-natured, I can't believe you ever wrote so
spiteful an article as this, and, woman like, make more compli-
mentary remarks than I deserve. Well, it ain't like me, that's
a fact, but it is like the world for aU that. Well, then you will
puzzle your little head whether after all there is any happiness
in married life, won't you ?

Well, I will answer that question. I believe there may be
and are many, very many happy marriages ; but then people
must be as near as possible in the same station of life, their tem-
pers compatible, their religious views the same, their notions of
the world similar, and their union based on mutual affection,
entire mutual confidence, and what is of the utmost consequence,

290

A DISH OF CLAMS.

the p^eatest possible mutual respect. Can you feel this towards
me, Sophy, can you, dear ? Then be quick — " pick up chips and
call your fat lier to dinner."

CHAPTER XXII.

A DISH OF CLAMS.

EA.TINO is the chief occupation at sea. It's the great topic
as well as the great business of the day, especially in small sail-
ing vessels like the " Black Hawk ; " although anything is good
enough for me when I can't get nothin' better, which is the
true philosophy of life. If there is a good dish and a bad one
set before me, I am something of a rat, I always choose the
best.

There are few animals, as there are few men, that we can't
learn something from. Now a rat, although I hate him like
pyson, is a travelling gentleman, and accommodates himself to
circumstances. He likes to visit people that are well off, and
has a free and easy way about him, and don't require an intro-
duction. He does not wait to be pressed to eat, but helps him-
self, and does justice to his host and his viands. When hungry,
he will walk into the larder and take a lunch or a supper with-
out requiring any waiting on. He is abstemious, or rather tem-
{)erate in his drinking. Molasses and syrup he prefers to strong
iquors, and he is a connoisseur in all things pertaining to the
dessert. He is fond of ripe fruit, and dry or liquid preserves,
the latter of which he eats with cream, for which purpose he
forms a passage to the dairy. He prides himself on his know-
ledge of cheese, and will tell you in the twinkling of an eye
which is the best in point of flavour or richness. Still he is
not proud — he visits the poor when there is no gentlemen in
the neighbourhood, and can accommodate himself to coarse fare
and poor cookery. To see him in one of these hovels, you would
think he never knew anjrfching better, for he has a capital appe-
tite, and can content himself with mere bread and water. He
is a wise traveller, too. He is up to the ways of the world,
and is aware of the disposition there is everywhere to entrap
strangers. He knows how to take care of himself. If he is
ever deceived, it is by treachery. He is seized sometimes at
the hospitable board, and assassinated, or perhaps cruelly poi-

A DISH OF CLAMS.

20t

Boned. But whnt skill can ensure safety, where confidence is
80 shamefully abused ? He is a capital sailor, even bilge-water
don't make him squeamish, and he is so good a judge of the sea-
worthiness of a ship, that he leaves her at the first port if he
finds she is leaky or weak. Few architects, on the other hand,
have such a knowledge of the stability of a house as he haa. He
examines its foundations thoroughly, and if he perceives any,
the slightest chance of its falling, he retreats in season, and
leaves it to its fate. In short, he is a model traveller, and much
may be learned from him.

But, then, who is perfect ? He has some serious faults, from
which we may also take instructive lessons, so as to avoid them.
He runs all over a he le, sits up late at night, and makes a
devil of a noise. He is a nasty, cross-gramed critter, and
treacherous even to those who feed him best. He is very dirty
in his habits, and spoils as much food as he eats. If a door ain't
left open for him, he cuts right through it, and if by accident
he is locked in, he won't wait to be let out, but hacks a passage
slap through the floor. Not content with being entertained
himself, he brings a whole retinue with him, and actilly eats a
feller out of house and home, and gets as sassy as a free nigger.
He gets into the servant-gall's bed-room sometimes at night,
and nearly scares her to death under pretence he wants her
candle ; and sometimes jumps right on to the bed, and says she
is handsome enough to eat, gives her a nip on the nose, sneezes
on her with great contempt, and tells her she takes snuff. The
fact is, he is hated everywhere he travels for his ugly behaviour
as much as an Englishman, and that is a great deal more than
sin is by half the world.

Now, being fond of natur, I try to take lessons from all cre-
ated critters. I copy the rat's traveUing knowledge and good
points as near as possible, and strive to avoid the bad. I con-
fine myself to the company apartments, and them that's allotted
to me. Havin' no family, I take nobody with me a-visitin',
keep good hours, and give as little trouble as possible ; and as
for goin' to the servant-gall's room, under pretence of wanting
a candle, I'd scorn such an action. Now, as there is lots of
good things in this vessel, rat like, I intend to have a good
dinner.

" Sorrow, what have you got for us to-day ? "

" There is the moose-meat, Massa."

" Let that hang over the stem, we shall get tired of it."

" Den, Massa, dar is de Jesuit-priest ; by golly, Mossa, dat is
a funny name. Yah, yah, yah ! dia here niggar was took in dat
time. Dat or a fac."

• •^-^^N

202

A DISH OF CLAMS

" Well, the turkey had better hang over too." ^

" Sposin' I git you fish dinner to*aay, Massa ? "

" What have you got ? "

"Some tobacco-pipes, Massa, and some miller's thumbs."
The rascal expected to take a rise out of mc, but I was too wide
awake for him. Cutler and the doctor, strange to say, fell into
the trap, and required an explanation, which delighted Sorrow
amazingly. Cutler, though an old fisherman on the coast, didn't
know these fish at all. And the doctor had some difilculty in
recognising them, under names he had never heard of before.

" Let us have them."

" Well, there is a fresh salmon, Massa ? "

" Let us have steaks off of it. Do them as J told you, and
take care the paper don't catch fire, and don't let the coals
smoke 'em. Serve some lobster sauce with them, but use no
butter, it spoils salmon. Let us have some hoss-radish with it."

" Hoss-radish ! yah, yah, yah ! Why, Massa, whar under t!ie
Bun does you suppose now I could git hoss-radish, on board ob
dis * Black Hawk r * De sea broke into my garden de oder night,
and kill ebery created ting in it. Lord a massy, Massa, you
know dis is notin' but a fisbin* -craft, salt pork and tateis one
day, and salt beef and taters next day, den twice laid for third
day, and den begin agin. Why, dere neber has been no cook-
ing on board of dis here fore-and-after till you yourself comed
on board. Dey don't know nufiin*. Dey is as stupid and
ignorant as coots."

Here his eye rested on the captain, when with the greatest
coolness he gave me a wink, and went on without stopping.

" Scept massa captain," said he, " and he do know what is
good, dat ar a fact, but he don't like to be ticular, so he takes
same iare a«» men, and dey isn't jealous. ' Sorrow,' sais he,
' make no stinction for me. I is used to better tings, but I'L
put up wid same fare as men.' "

" Sorrow," said the captain, " how can you tell such a bare-
faced falsehood. What an impudent liar you are, to talk so
before my face. I never said anything of the kind to you."

" Why, Massa, now," said Sorrow, " dis here child is wide
awake, that are a fac, and no mistake, and it's onpossible he is
a dreamin'. What is it you did say den, when you ordered
dinner ? "

" I gave my orders and said nothing more."

" Exactly, Massa, I knowed I was right ; dat is de identical
ting I said. You was used to better tings ; you made no stinc-
tions, and ordered all the same for boaf of you. Hoss-radish,
Massa Slick," said he, " I wish I had some, or could get some

6
h

A DISH OF CLAMS.

208

ashore for you, but hom-radish ain't French, and deso fulki
nebber hear tell ob him."

•' Make some."

''Oh, Moasa, now you is makin* fun ob dis poor niggar."

'* I am not. Take a turnip, scrape it the same as the rad-
ish, into fine shaving, mix it with fresh mustard, and a little
pepper and vinegar, and you can't tell it from t'other."

" By golly, Massa, but dat are a wrinkle. Oh, how missus
would a lubbed you. It was loud all down sout dere was a great
deal ob 'finement in her. Nobody was good nuff for her dere ;
dev had no taste for cookin*. She was mighty high *mong de
ladies in de instep, but not a mossel of pride to de niggars.
Oh, you would a walked right into de cockles ob her heart.
If you had tredded up to her, she would a married you, and
gub you h(^ tree plantations, and eight hundred niggar, and
eberv ting, and order dinner for you herself. Oh, wouldn't
she been done, gone stracted, when you showed her how she
had shot her grandmother?* wouldn't she? I'll be dad fetched
if she wouldn't."

" Have you any other fish ?" I said.

" Oh yes, Massa ; some grand fresh clams."

" Do you know how to cook them ? "

" Massa," said he, putting his hands under his white apron,
and, sailor-like, giving a hitch up to his trousers, preparatory to
stretching himself straight ; " Massa, dis here niggar is a ram-
bitious niggar, and he kersaits he can take de shine out ob any
niggar that ever played de juice harp in cookin* clams. Missus
structed me husself. Massa, I shall nebber forget dat time, de
longest day I live. She sent for me, she did, and I went in, and
she was lyin' on de sofa, lookin' pale as de inside of parsimmon
seed, for de wedder was brilin' hot.

" ' Sorrow,' said she.

" ' Yes, Missus,' said I.

" ' Put the pillar under my head. Dat is right,' said she ;
* tank you, Sorrow.'

"Oh, Massa, how different she was from abulitinists to
Boston. She always said Tankee, for ebery ting. Now ab-
lutinists say, ' Hand me dat piller, you darned rascal, and den
make yourself skase, you is as black as de debbil's hind leg.'
And den she say —

"'Trow dat scarf over my ankles, to keep de bominable
flies off. Tankee, Sorrow ; you is far more handier dan Aunt
Dolly is. Dat are niggar is so rumbustious, she jerks my close

* Shooting one's granny, or grandmother, means fancying you have dis-
covered what was well known before.

■■■*^*'~"«'«*«

2aft

A DISH OF CLAMS.

BO, BomctimcB I tink in my bouI rHp v>\\\ pull \>m ofT.' Den she
Bhut her eye, ond bHc gabe a cold shivi-r nil oIut.

" * Sorrow,* rn'm fihe, * I am goiu' to take a long, bory long
journey, to de far off counteree.*

"•Oh dear me! MIbhub,' iayB T; 'Oh Lord, MisHiis, you
ain't a goin' to die, is you ?' and I fell down on mv kiiceH, and
kissed her hand, and Baid, ' Oh, MissuB ; don't die, i)feaMe MisBUB.
"What will become ob dis niggar if you do? If cie Lord in his
goodncBB take vou away, let me go wid you, MiHHus;' and I
waB 80 Borry I boohooed right out, and groaned and wipy eye
like courtin' amoBt.

" • Why, Uncle Sorrow,* Baid Bhe, * I isn't a goin' to die ;
what makcB you tink dat ? Stand up : I do railly believe you
do lub your missuB. Go to dat closet, and pour yourself out a
glass of whiskey ;' and I goes to de closet — just dis way — and
dere stood de bottle and a glass, us dis here one do, and I helpt
myself dis fashen.

" ' What made you tink I was a goin' for to die ? ' said she,
'do I look 80 ill?'

" ' No, Missus ; but dat is de way de Boston preacher dat
staid here last week spoke to me, — de long-legged, sour face,
Yankee villain. He is uglier and yallerer dan Aunt Phillissy
Anne's crooke " necked squashes. I don't want to see no more
ob such fellers pysonin' de minds ob de niggars here.'

" Says he, * My man.'

" * I isn't a man,' sais I, ' I is only a niggar.'

" * Poor, ignorant wretch,' said he.

" * Massa,' sais I, * vou has waked up de wrong passenger
dis present time. I isn t poor, I ab plenty to eat, and plenty to
drink, and two great trong wenches to help me cook, and plenty
of fine frill shirt, longin' to my old massa, and bran new hat,
and when I wants money I asks missus, and she gives it to me,
and I ab white oberseer to shoot game for me. When I wants
wild ducks or wenson, all I got to do is to say to dat Yankee
oberseer, * Missus and I want some deer or some canvasback, I
spect you had better go look for some, Massa Buccra.' No, no,
Massa, I ain't so ignorant as to let any man come over me to
make seed-corn out of me. If you want to see wretches, go to
James Town, and see de poor white critters dat ab to do all
dere own work deyselves, cause dey is so poor, dey ab no nig-
gars to do it for 'em.'

" Sais he, * Hab you ebber tort ob dat long journey dat la
afore you ? to dat far off counteree where you will be manci-
pated and free, where de weary hab no rest, and de wicked hab
no labor?'

A DI8II OF CLAMS.

205

"'Down to Boiiton I »po«o, MnflRa,* pais T/monp dcm pon-
trntioniHts and ublutioniiitii, Mohua; nlilution is a inrnn, iinHty,
dirty tiiijr, and don't suit nim^ara what hah ^ood iniHHiia like
nu\ and I won't take dat journey, and I hate dat cold couu-
teree, and I want nottin' to do wid nmnHinationiots.*

"'It ain't dat/ «aid he, 'it'n uo al)ove.

" 'What,* sais 1, 'up derti in do inountaina? AVhat onder
de iun Hliould 1 go dere for to be froze to defth, or to be voured
by wild beasts P Massa, I won't go nowhere widout dear missus
goes.'

" • I mean Ileaben,* he said, ' where all are free and all equal ;
where ,;o»/ is, and sorrow enters not.'

" ' What,' sais I, ' Joy in Ileaben ? I don't believe one word
of it. Joy was de greatest tief on all dese tree plantations of
missus ; he stole more chicken, and corn, and backey, dan his
great bull neck was worth, and when he ran off, missus wouldn't
let no one look for him. Joy in Heaben, eh ; and Sorrow nebber
go dere ! Well, I clare now ! Yah, yah, yah, Massa, you is
toolin' dis here niggar now, I know you is when you say Joy is
dead, and gone to Heaben, and dis child is shot out for ebber.
Massa,' sais I, 'me and missus don't low ablution talk here, on
no account whatsomever, de only larnin' we lows of is whippin'
fellows who tice niggars to rections, and de slaves of dis plant-
ation will lam you as sure as you is ba>vii, for dey lub missus
dearly. You had better kummence de long journey usself. Sal-
lust, bring out dis gentleman boss ; and Plutarch, go fetch de
saddle-bag down.'

" I lea his boss by where de dogs was, and, sais I, ' Massa,
I can't help larfin' no how I can fix it, at dat ar story you told
me about dat young rascal Joy. Dat story do smell rader tail,
dat are a fac ; yah, yah, yah,' and I fell down and rolled ober
and ober on de grass, and it's lucky I did, for as I dodged he
fetched a back-handed blow at me wid his huntin' whip, that
would a cut my head off if it had tooked me round my neck.

" My missus larfed right out like any ting, tho' it was so
hot, and when missus larf I always know she is good-natured.

" ' Sorrow,' said missus, ' I am afraid you is more rogue dan
fool.'

" ' Missus,' sais I, ' I nebber stole the vally of a pin's head
off ob dis plantation, 1 scorn to do such a nasty, dirty, mean
action, and you so kind as to gib me more nor I want, and you
knows dat, Missus ; you knows it, oderwise you wouldn't send
me to de bank, instead ob white oberseer, Mr Succatash, for six,
seben, or eight hundred dollars at a time. But, dere is too much

iWMM

29G

A DISH OF CXA5IS.

steal in* going on here, and you and I, MIbbus, must be more
ticklar. You is too dulgent altogether.'

" ' 1 didn't mean that, Sor ow,' she said, * T don't mean
stealin'.

" ' Well, Missus, I's glad to hear dat, if you will let me ab
permission den, I will dnnk jou good helf.'

" ' Why dida^t you do it half an hour ago ?' she said.

" * Missus,' sais 1, * I was so busy talkin', and so scared about
your helf, and dere waa no hurry,' and I stent near to her side,
where she could see me, and I turned de bottle up, and advanced
dis way, for it hadn't no more dan what old Cloe's thimble would
hold, jist like dis bottle.

" ' Why,' said she (and she smiled, and I knowed she was
good-natured), * dere is nottin' dere, see if dere isn't some in de
oder bottle,' and I went back and set it down, and took it up to
her, and poured it out dis way."

" Slick," said Cutler, " I am astonished at you, you are en-
couraging that black rascal in drinking, and allowing him to
make a beast of himself," and he went on deck to attend to his
duty, saying as he shut the door, "That fellow will prate all day
if you allow him." Sorrow followed him with a very peculiar
expression of eye as he retired.

" ISIassa Captain," said he, " as sure as de world, is an ab-
lutionist, dat is just de way dey talk. Dey call us coloured
breddren when they tice us off from home, and den dey call us
black rascals and beasts. I wish 1 was to home agin, Yankees
treat dere coloured breddren like dogs, dat is a fact ; but he is
excellent man, Massa Captain, bery good man, and though
I don't believe it's a pospible ting Joy is in heaben, I is cer-
tain t!e captain, when de Lord be good nuff to take him, will
go dere."

"The captain is right," said I, "Sorrow, put down that
bottle ; you have had more than enough already — put it down;"
but he had no idea of obeying, and held on to it.

" If you don't put that down. Sorrow," I said, " I will break
it over your head."

" Oh ! Massa," said ne, " dat would be a sin to waste dis
oloriferous rum dat V7ay; just let me drink it first, and den
I will stand, and you may break de bottle on my head ; it can't
hurt niggar's head, only cut a little wool."

" Come, no more of this nonsense," I said, "put it down;"
and seeing me in earnest, he did so.

"Xow," sais I, "tell us how you are going to cook the
clams."

A DISH OF CLAl/IS.

297

more
mean
ne ab

about
r side,
ranced
would

le was
e inde
t up to

ire en-
him to
L to his
all day
)eculiar

an ab-
oloured
call us
ankees
it he is
though
is cer-
lim, will

m that
down;"

11 break

iste dis
nd den
it can't

down;"

ook the

" Oh ! Massa," said hi;, " do let me f.nish de stor)' about de
way I larned it.

" ' Sorrow,' said missus, ' I am going to take a long joumev
all de way to Boston, and de wedder is so cold, and what is
■wus, de people is so cold, it makes me shudder,' and she
shivered like cold ague fit, and I was afmid she would unjoLnt
de sofa.

" ' Don't lay too close to them. Missus,' sais I.

" ' What,' said she, and she raised herself up off ob do pillar,
and she larfed, and rc>lled ober and ober, and tosticated about
almost in a conniption fit, ' you old goose,' said she, ' you on-
aco»untable fool,' and den she larfed and rolled ober agin,
I tought she would a tumbled off on de floor, * do go way ; you
is too foolish to talk to, but turn my pillar again. Sorrow,' said
she, ' is I showin' of my ankles,' said she, ' rollin' about so like
mad?'

" ' Little bit,' sais T, * Missus.*

" ' Den put dat scarf ober my feet agin. What on earth
does you mean, Sorrow, bout not sleepin' too close to de-
Yankees ? '

" ' Missus,' sais I, ' does you recollect de day when Zeno
was drownded off de raft ? Well, dat day Plutarch was lowed
to visit next plantation, and dey bring him home mazin' drunk
— stupid as owl, his mout open and he couldn't speak, and his
eye open and he couldn't see. Well, as you don't low niggar
to be flogged, Aunt Phillissy Ann and I lay our heads together,
and we tought we'd punish him ; so we ondressed him, and put
him into same bed wid poor Zeno, and when he woke up in
de momin' he was most frighten to def, and had de cold chills
on him. and his eye stared out ob his head, and his teeth chat-
tered like monkeys. He was so frighten, we had to burn lights
for a week — he tought after dat he saw Zeno in bed wid him
all de time. It's werry dangerous, Missus, to sleep near cold
people like Yankees and dead niggars.'

" ' Sorrow, you is a knave I believe,' she said.

" * Knave, knave. Missus,' I saui, * I don't know dat word.'

" ' Sorrow,' said she, ' I is a goin' to take you wid me.'

"'Tank you. Missus,' said I, 'oh! bless your heart.
Missus.' "

" Sorrow," said I, sternly, " do you ever intend to tell uo
how you are going to cook them clams, or do you mean to chat
all day r" _

"Jist in one minute, Massa, I is jist comin' to it,"
said he.

" ' Xcw,' sais missus, ' Sorrow, it's werry geuteel to travel

MMMMMMWi

'298

A DISH OF CLAMS.

wid one's own cook ; but it is weiry ongenteel when de cook
can't do nuffin' super-superior ; for bad cooks is plenty ebery-
where widout travellin' wid 'em. It brings disgrace.'

" ' Exactly, Missus,' sais I, * when you and me was up to de
president's plantation, his cook was makin' plum pudclen, ho
was. Now how in natur does you rimagine he did it ? why,
Missus, he actilly made it wid flour, de stupid tick-headed fool,
instead ob de crumbs ob a six cent stale loaf, he did ; and he
nebber 'pared de gredients de day afore, as he had aughten to
do. It was nuffin' but stick jaw — ;jist fit to feed turkeys and
little niggeroons wid. Did you ebber hear de likes ob dat in
all your bawn days. Missus ; but den, Marm, de general \A8 a
berry poor cook hisself you know, and it stand to argument ob
reason, where massa or missus don't know nuffin', de sarvant
can't neither. Dat is what all de gentlemen and ladies says
dat wisit here, Marm : ' What a lubly beautiful woman Miss
Lunn is,' Z^y say, ' dere is so much 'nnement in her, and her
table is de best in all Meriky.'

" ' What a fool you is, llncle Sorrow,' she say, and den she
larf again ; and when missus larf den I know she was pleased.
' Well,' sais she, 'now mind you keep all your secrets to your-
self when travellin', and keep your eyes open wide, and see
tberyting and say nuffin'.'

" * MissuH,' sais I, * I will be wide awake ; you may pend on
me — eyes as big as two dog-wood blossoms, and ears open like
mackarel.'

" ' What vou got for dinner to-day ? ' she say — jist as you
say, Massa. \Vell, I tell her all ober, as I tells you, numeratin'
all I had. Den she picked out what she wanted, and mong
dem I recklect was clams.' "

" Now tell us how you cooked the clams," I said ; " what's
the use of standing chattering all day there like a monkey ?"

" Dat, Massa, now is jist what I is goin' to do dis blessid
minit. ' Missus,' sais I, ' talkin' of clams, minds me of
chickens.*

" ' What on airth do you mean,' sais she, * you blockhead ;
it might as well mind you of tunder.'

" ' Well, Missus,' sais I, ' now sometimes one ting does mind
me of anoder ting dat way ; I nebber sees you, Slissus, but
what you mind me ob de beautiful white lily, and dat agin ob
de white rose dat hab de lubly color on his cheek.'

" ' Do go away, and don't talk nonsense,' she said, larfiug ;
and when she larfed den I know she Avas pleased.

" ' So clams mind me of chickens.'

" * And whiskey,' she said.

A DIRH OF CLAMS.

290

" * "Well, it do, Missus ; dat are a fac i' and I helped myself
agin dis way."

■ " Sorrow," said I, " this is too bad ; go forward now and
cut this foolery short. You will be too drunk to cook the din-
ner if you go on that way."

" Massa," said he, " dis child nebber was drunk in his life ;
but he is frose most to Jeaf wid de wretched fogs (dat give
people here ' blue noses '), an de field ice, and raw winds : I is
as cold as if I slept wid a dead niggar or a Yankee. Yah, yah,
yah.

" * "Well, Missus,' sais I, * dem clams do mind me ob chickens.
Now, Missus, will you skuse me if I git you the receipt Miss
Phillis and I ab cyphered out, how to presarve chickens ?'

" ' Yes,' she said, * I will. Let me hear it. Dat is sumthen
new.*

" * "Well, Missus, you know how you and I is robbed by our
niggars like so many minks. Now, Missus, sposin' you and I
pass a law dat all tat poultry is to be brought to me to buy,
and den we keep our fat poultry locked up ; and if dey steal
de lean fowls, and we buy 'em, we saves de fattenin' of 'em,
and gibs no more arter all dan de vally of food and tendin',
which is all dey gits now, for dere fowls is always de best fed
in course ; and when we ab more nor we wants for ycu and me,
den I take 'em to market and sell 'em ; and if dey will steal 'em
arter dat. Missus, we must try ticklin' ; dere is nuffin' like it.
It makes de down fly like a feather-bed. It makes niggars wery
sarcy to see white tief punished tree times as much as dey is ;
dat are a fac. Missus. A poor white man can't work, and in
course he steal. "Well, his time bein' no airthly use, dey gib
him six month pensiontary ; and niggar, who can airn a dollar
or may be 100 cents a day, only one month. I spise a poor
white man as I do a skunk. Dey is a cuss to de country ; and
it's berry hard for you and me to pay rates to support 'em : our
rates last year was bominable. Let us pass dis law, Missus,
and fowl stealin' is done — de ting is dead.'

" ' Wei!, you ma\ try it for six months,' she say, ' only no
whippin'. We must find some oder punishment ' she said.

" ' I ab it,' sais I, * Missus ! Oh Lord a massy, Missus ! oh
dear missus ! I got an inwention as bright as bran new pewter
button. I'll shave de head of a tief close and smootli. Dat will
keep his head warm in de sun, and cool at night ; do him good.
He can't go courtin' den, when he ab ' no wool whar de wool
ought to grow,' and spile his frolicken, and all de niggaroons
make game ob him. It do more good praps to tickle fancy oh
niggars dan to tickle dere hide. I make him go to church

1 1;

800

A DISH OF CLAMS.

reglar den to show hieself and his bald pate. Yah, yah,
yah!'"

" Come, Sorrow," I said, " I am tired of all this foolery ;
either tell me how vou propose to cook the clams, or substitute
something else in their place."

" Well, Massa," he said, " I will ; but railly now when I gits
talkin' boat my dear ole missus, pears to me as if my tongue
would run for ebber. Dis is de last voyage I ebber make in a
fishin' craft. I is used to de first society, and always moved
round wid ladies and gentlemen what had 'nnement in 'em. "Well,
Massa, now I comcb to de clams. First of all, you must dig de
clams. Now dere is great art in diggin' clams.

" Where you see little hole like worm hole dere is de clam,
lie breathe up tru dat, and suck in his drink like sherry-cobbler
through a straw. Whar dere is no little air holes, dere is no
clam, dat are a fac. Now, Massa, can you tell who is de most
knowin' clam-digger in de worl ? i)e gull is, Massa ; and he eat
his clam raw, as some folks who don't know nuffin' bout cookin*
eat oysters. He take up de clam ebber so far in de air, and let
him fall right on de rock, which break shell for him, and down
he goes and pounces on him like a duck on a June bug. Some-
times clam catch him by de toe though, and hold on like grim
death to a dead niggar, and away goes bird screamin' and yeUin',
and clam stick in' to him like burr to a bosses tail. Oh, geehil-
likin, what fun it is. And all de oder gulls larf at him like any
ting ; dat comes o' seezin' him by de mout instead ob de scruff
ob de neck.

" Well, when you git clam nuff, den you must wash 'em, and
dat is more trouble dan dey is worth ; for dey is werry gritty
naturally, like buckwheat dat is trashed in de iield — takes two
or tree waters, and salt is better dan fresh, cause you see fresh
water make him sick. Well, now, Massa, de question is, what
will you ab ; clam soup, clam sweetbread, clam pie, clam fritter,
or bake clam ? "

" Which do you tink best, Sorrow ? " sais I.

" Well, Massa, dey is all good in dere way ; missus used to
fection baked clams mighty well, but we cau't do dem so tip-top
at sea ; clam sweetbread, she said, was better den what is made
ob oyster ; and as to clam soup, dat pends on de cook. Now,
Massa, when missus and me went to wisit de president's plant-
ation, I see his cook, Mr Sallust, didn't know nuffin' bout parin*
de soup. What you tink he did, Massa ? stead ob poundin' de
clams in a mortar fust, he jist cut 'em in quarters and puts 'em
in dat way. I nebber see c 'ch ignorance since I was raised. He
made de soup ob water, and actilly put some salt in it ; when it

A DISH OF CLAMS.

301

was 8arved up — it was rediculous disgraceful — he left dem pieces
in de tureen, and dey was like leather. Missus said to ine :

"'Sorrow,' sais she, *I shall starve here; dem military men
know nuffin' but bout bosses, dogs, and wine ; but dey ain't de-
licate no way in dere tastes, and yet to hear 'em talk you'd be
most afeered. to offer 'em anyting, you'd tink dey Mas tie debbel
and all.' "

" Did she use those words. Sorrow ? "

" Well, not zactly," he said, scratching his head, " dey was
dicksionary words and werry fine, for she had great 'tinement
bout her ; but dat was de meanin' ob 'em.

"'Now, Sorrow,' she said, 'tell me de trut, wasn't dat soup
now made of water ? '

" ' Yes, Missus, it was,' said I, ' I seed it wid my own eyes.*

" * I taut so,' she said, ' why dat cook ain't fit to tend a bear
trap, and bait it wid sheep's innerds.' "

" Did she use those words ? "

" Why laws a massy, Massa ! I can't swear to de identical
words ; how can I ? but as I was a sayin', dere was 'finement in
'em, werry long, werry crooked, and werry pretty, but dat was
all de sense ob 'em.

" * Now, Sorrow,' said she, * he ought to ab used milk ; all
fish soups ought to be made o' milk, and den tickened wid
flour.'

" ' Why in course, Missus,' sais I, * dat is de way you and me
always likes it.'

" ' It has made me quite ill,' said she.

" * So it ab nearly killed me. Missus,' sais I, puttin' my hand
on my stomach, ' I ab such a pain dowoi here, I tink sometimes
I shall die.'

" ' Well, you look ill, Uncle Sorrow,* she said, and she went
to her dressin'-case, and took a little small bottle (covered ober
wid printed words), ' Take some o' dis,' said she, and she poured
me out bout dis much (filling his glass again), ' take dat, it will
do you good.'

" ' Is it berry bad to swaller,* sais I, ' Missus? I is most afeard
it will spile the 'finement of my taste.*

" ' Try it,' sais she, and I shut to my eyes, and made awful
long face, and swallowed it jist dis way.

" ' By goUy,' sais I, * Missus, but dat is grand. What is
dat?'

" ' Clove water,' said she.

" ' Oh, Missus,' sais I, ' dat is plaguy trong water, dat are a
fac, and bery nice flavoured. I wish in my heart we had a nice
spring ob it to home. Wouldn't it be grand, for dis is a bery

,"<^.

i '

802

A DISH OF CLAMS.

thirsty nijxRar, dat are a fac. Clam pie, Massa, is first chop, my
missus ainbitioned it some punkins.'

" Well, how do vou make it ? "

" Dere is seberal ways, Massa. Sometime we used one way
and sometime anoder. I do believe missus could do it fifty
ways."

" Fifty ways ! " said I, " now Sorrow, how can you lie that
way? I shall begin to think at last you never had a mistress
at all."

" Fifty ways ! "Well, Massa, goodness gracious me ! You
isn't goin' to tie me down to swear to figures now, any more nor
identical words, is you P I ab no manner o' doubt she could
fifty ways, but she only used eight or ten ways which she said
was de best. First dere is de clam bake."

" AVell, I know that," sais I, " go on to the clam pie."

" What is it ? " said the doctor, " for I should like to know
how they are prepared."

" This," said I, " is the most approved mode. A cavity is
dug in the earth, about eighteen inches deep, which is lined with
round stones. On this a lire is made ; and when the stones are
sufficiently heated, a bushel or more of clams (according to the
number of persons who are to partake of the feast) is thrown
upou them. On this is put a layer of rock-weed, gathered from
the beach, and over this a second layer of sea-weed. This pre-
vents the escape of the steam, and preserves the sweetness of
the fish. Clams baked in this manner are preferred to those
cooked in the usual way in the kitchen. On one occasion, that
of a grand political mass-meeting in favour of General Harrison
on the 4th of July, 1840, nearly 10,000 persons assembled in
Rhode Island, for whom a clambake and chowder was prepared.
This was probably the qn'eatest feast of the kind that ever took
place in New England."

" Zactly," said Sorrow, " den dere is anoder way."

" I won't hear it," said I, " stiver now, make the pie anyway
you like."

" Massa," said he, " eber since poor missus died from eaten
hogs wid dere heads on, I feel kinder faint when I sees clams, I
hab neber swallowed one since, and neber will. De parfume gits
into my stomach, as it did when de General's cook used water
instead of milk in his soup. I don't spose you ab any clove-
water, but if you wiU let me take jist a tumblerfuU ob dis, I tink
it would make me survive a little," and without waiting for leave
he helped himself to a bumper. " Now, Massa," he said, " I
show you what cookin' is, I know," and making a scrape of his
leg, he left the cabin.

A DISn OF CLAMS.

803

>v>^y

le way
t fifty

e that
istresa

You
Dre nor
I could
le said

) know

avity is
ed with
ines are
r to the
thrown
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his pre-
;nes8 of
;o those
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ibled in
repared.
irer took

any way

m eaten
clams, I
ume gita
ed water
ly clove-
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for leave
said, "I
36 of his

" Doct "," said I, " I am glad you have seen this ppocimen
of a 8t)utheni uegro. He is a fair sample of a ^vrvaut in the
houses of our great planters. Cheerful, grateful, and contented,
they are better off and happier than any portion of the same race
I have met ^vith in any part of the world. They have a quick
perception of humour, a sort of instinctive knowledge of char-
acter, and great cunning, but their reasoning powers are very
limited. Their appetites are gross, and their constitutional in-
dolence such that they prefer enduring any suftering and priva-
tion to regular habits of industry.

" Slavery in the abstract is a thing that nobody approves of,
or attempts to justify. We all consider it an evil — but unhap-
pily it was entailed upon us by our forefathers, and has now
grown to be one of such magnitude that it is dilRcult to know
how to deal with it — and this difficulty is much increased by the
irritation which has grown out of the unskilful and unjustifiable
conduct of abolitionists. The grossest exaggerations \iave been
circulated as to the conduct and treatment of our slaves, by per-
sons who either did not know what they were talking about, or
who have wilfully perverted facts. The devil we have painted
black, and the negro received the same colour from the hand of
his Maker. It only remained to represent the planter as of a
deeper dye than either. This picture however wanted eft'ect,
and latterly lights and shades have been judiciously introduced,
by mingling with these groups eastern abolitionists, white over-
seers, and English noblemen, and ladies of rank. It made a
clever caricature — had a great run — has been superseded by other
follies and extravagancies, and ia now nearly forgotten. The so-
cial evil still remains, and ever will, while ignorant zeal, blind
bigotry, hypocrisy, and politics, demand to have the exclusive
treatment of it. The planter has rights aa well as the slave, and
the claims of both must be well weighed and considered before
any dispassionate judgment can be formed.

" In the mean time invective and misrepresentation, by irri-
tating the public, disqualify it for the deliberate exercise of its
functions. If the slaves have to mourn over the want of free-
dom, the planters may lament the want of truth in their oppo-
nents ; and it must be admitted that they have submitted to the
atrocious calumnies that have been so liberally heaped upon them
of late years, with a contempt that is the best refutation of false-
hood, or a meekness and forbearance that contrast very favour-
ably with the violence and fury of their adversaries."

My object however, Squire, is not to write a lecture on
emancipation, but to give you a receipt for cooking " a dish of
clams."

804 THE devil's HOLE ;

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE DETIL'B HOLE; OB, FISH AKD FLESH.

t I.

" SoBRow," said the doctor, " seems to me to consider wo-
men, from the way he flatters his mistress, as if she was not un-
like the grupers at Bermuda. There is a natural fish-pond there
near Flats v illage, in which there is a great lot of these critters,
which are about the size of the cod. They will rise to the sur-
face, and approach the bank for you to tickle their sides, which
seems to afford them particular delight."

" It is what you would call, I suppose, practical soft sawder-
ing."

" But it is an operation of which the rest are exceedingly-
jealous, and while you are thus amusing one of them, you must
take care others do not feel offended, and make a dash at your
fingers. With true feminine jealousy too they change colour
when excited, for envy seems to pervade all animate nature."

" It's called the Devil's Hole where they are, ain't it ? "
sais I.

" Yes," said he, " it is, and it is situated not far from Moore's
favourite tree, under whose shade he used to recline while writ-
ing his poetry, at a time when his deputy was equally idle, and
instead of keeping his accounts, kept his money. Bermuda is a
fatal place to poets. Moore lost his purse there, and Waller his
favourite ring ; the latter has been recently found, the former
was never recovered. In one thing these two celebrated authors
greatly resembled each other, they both fawned and flattered on
the great."

" Yes," said Cutler, " and both have met their reward. Every-
body regrets that anything was known of either, but his poetry — '*

"Well," sais I, "I am glad I am not an Englishman, or as
true as the world, a chap like Lord John Russell would ruin me
for ever. I am not a poet, and can't write poetry, but I am a
Clockmaker, and write common sense. Now a biographer like
that man, that knows as little of one as he does of the other,
would ruin me for everlastingly. It ain't pleasant to have such
a burr as that stick on to vour tail, especially if you have no
comb to get it off, is it ? A politician is like a bee ; he travels
a zig-zag course everyway, turnin' first to the right and then to
the left, now makin' a dive at the wild honeysuckle, and then at
the sweet briar ; now at the buck-wheat blossom, and then at
the rose ; he is here and there and everywhere ; you don't know

OR, nSH AND FLE8H.

S05

where the plamie to find him ; he courts all and is constant to
none. But when his point is gained and he has wooed and de-
ceived all, attained his object, and his bag is filled, he then shows
plain enough what he was after all the time. He returns as
straight as a chalk line, or as we say, as the crow flies to his home,
and neither looks to the right or to the left, or knows or cares
for any of them who contributed to his success. His object is
to ennch himself and make a family name. A politician there-
fore is the last man in the world to write a biography. Having
a kind of sneakin* regard for a winding, wavy way nimself, he
sees more beauty ia the in and out line of a Yarginny fence,
than the stiff straight formal post and rail one of New England.
As long as a partizan critter is a thorn in the flesh of the ad-
verse party, he don't care whether he is Jew or Gentile. He
overlooks little peccadilloes, as he calls the worst stories, and
thinks everybody else will be just as indulgent as himself He
uses romanists, dissenters, republicans, and evangelicals at his
own great log-rolling* frollicks, and rolls for them in return.

" Who the plague hain't done something, said something, or
thought something he is sorry for, and prays may be forgot and
forgiven ; big brag as I am, I know 1 can't say 1 haven't over
and over again offended. "Well, if it's the part of a friend to go
and rake aU these things up, and expose 'em to the public, and
if it's agreeable to my wife, sposin' 1 had one, to have 'em pub-
lished because the stained paper will sell, all I can sais is, I wish
he had shown his regard for me by running away with my wife
and letting me alone. It's astonishing how many friends Moore's
disloyalty made him. A seditious song or a treasonable speech
finds more favour with some people in the old country than

* Log-rolling. — In the lumber redons of Maine, it is customary for men
of dififerent logging camps to appoint aavs for helping each other in rolling the
logs to the river after they are felled ana trimmed, this rolling being about the
hardest work incident to the business. Thus the men of three or four different
camps will unite, say on Monday, to roll for camp No. 1, on Tuesday, for camp
No. 2, on Wednesday, for camp No. 3, and so en through the whole number
of camps within convenient distance of each other. The term has been adopted
in legislation to signify a little system of mutual co-operation. For instance,
a member from St liawrence has a pet bill for a plank-road which he wants
pushed through. He accordingly makes a bargain with a member from On-
ondi'ga, who is coaxing along a charter for a bank, by which St Lawrence
agrees to vote for Onondaga's bank if Onondaga will vote St Lawrence's plank-
road. This is legislative log-rolling, and there is abundanco of it earned on
at Albany every winter. Generally speaking, the subject of the lop-rolling is
some merely local project, interesting only to the people of a certain district ;
but sometimes there is party log-rolling, where the Whigs, for instance, will
come to an understanding with the Democrats that the former shall not oppose
a certain democratic measure merely on party grounds, provided the Democrats
/nil be equally tender to some Whig measure in return. — J. Inman.

800

THE DEVILS

hole;

building a church, that's a fact, llowsomever, I think I am safe
from him, for first, I am a Yankee, secondly, i ain't married,
thirdly, I am a Clockmaker, and fourthly, my biography is
written by myself in my book, fifthly, I write no letters I can
help, and never answer one except on business."

"This is a hint father gave me: *Sam,' said he, 'never talk
to a woman, for others may hear you ; only whisper to her, and
never write to her, or your own letters may rise up in judg-
ment against you some duy or another. Many a man afore now
has had reason to wish he had never seen a pen in his life ; ' so
I ain't afeard therefore that he can write himself up or mo down,
and make me look skuywoniky, no ho^r he can fix it. If he does,
we will declare war again England, and blow the little darned
thing out of the map of Europe ; for it ain't much bigger than
the little island Cronstadt is built on after all, is it ? It's just
a little dot and nothin' more, dad fetch my buttons if it is.

" But to go back to the grupers and the devil's hole ; I have
been there mvself and seen it, Doctor," sais I, " but there is
other fish besides these in it ; there is the parrot-fish, and they
are like the feminine gender too ; if the grupers are fond of be-
ing tickled, parrots are fond of hearing their own voices. Then
there is the angel-fish, they have fins like wings of a pale blue
colour ; but they must be fallen angels to be in such a place as
that hole too, musn't they ? and yet they are handsome even now.
Gracious ! what must they have been before the fall ! and how
maay humans has beauty caused to fall, Doctor, hasn't it ? and
how many there are that the sound of that old song, ' My face is
my fortune. Sir, she said,' would make their hearts swell till
they would almost burst.

" Well, then there is another fish there, and those Mudians
eartainly must have a good deal of fun in them, to make such a
capital and comical assortment of queer ones for that pond,
There is the lawyer-fish — can anything under the sun be more
appropriate than the devil's hole for a lawyer ? What a nice
place for him to hang out his shingle in, ain't it ? it's no wonder
his old friend the landlord finds him an office in it — rent free, is
it ? What mischief he must brood there ; bringing actions of
slander against the foolish parrot-fish that will let their tongues
run, ticklin' the grupers, and while they are smirking and smil-
ing, devoiir their food, and prosecute the fallen angels for vio-
lating the Maine law and disturbing the peace. The devil's
hole, like Westminster Hall, is a dangerous place for a fellow of
substance to get into, I can tell you ; the way they fleece him is
a caution to sinners.

" My dog fell into that fish-pond, and they nearly fixed his

OR, FISn AND FLESH.

807

flint before T gofc him out, I tell you ; his coat was almost
stripped off when I rescued him."

" Why, Mr Slick," said the doctor, "what in the world took
you to Bermuda ? "

" Why," sais I, " I had heard a f^rent deal about it. It is a
beautiful spot and very healthy. It is all that has ever been
baid or sun^ of it, ana more too, and that's sayin' a great deal,
for most celebrated places disappoint you ; you expect too much,
and few crack parts of the world come up to the idea you form
of them beforenand. "Well, I went down there to see if there
was anything to be done in the way of business, but it was too
small a field for me, although I made a spec that paid me very
well too. There is a passage through tne reefs there, and it's
not every pilot knows it, but there was a manuscript chart of it
made by a captain of a tradin' vessel. When he died his widow
offered it to the government, but they hummed and hawed about
the price, and was for gittiug it for half nothing, as they always
do. So \vhat does I do, but just steps in and buys it, for in war
time it is of the greatest importance to know this passage, and
I sold it to our navy-board, and I think if ever we are at logger-
heads with the British, we shall astonish the weak nerves of the
folks at the summer islands some fine day.

" I had a charming visit. There are some magnificent cares
there, and in that climate they are grand places, I do assure you.
I never saw anything so beautiful. The ceiling is covered with
splendiferous spary-like icicles, or chandelier drops. "What do
you call that word, Doctor ? "

" Stalactites,"

" Exactly, that's it, glorious stalactites reaching to the hot-
torn and forming fluted pillars. In one of those caves where
the water runs, the admiral floored over the bottom and gave
a ball in it, and it was the most Arabian Night's entertainment
kind of thing that I ever saw. It looked like a diamond hall,
and didn't it show off the Mudian galls to advantage, lick ! I
guess it did, for they are the handsomest Creoles in all creation.
There is more substance in 'em than in the tropical ladies. I
don't mean worldly (though that ain't to be sneered at, neither,
by them that ain't got none themselves). When the people
used to build small clippers there for the "West Indian trade,
cedar was very valuable, and a gall's fortune was reckoned, not
by pounds, but by so many cedars. Now it is banana trees. But
dear me, somehow or another we have drifted away down to
Bermuda, we must stretch back again to the Nova Scotian coast
east of Chesencook, or, like Jerry Boudrot, we shall be out of
sight of land, and lost at sea."

808

THE DEVILS HOLE;

On going up on the deck, my attention won naturally at-
trected to my new purchase, the Canadian home.

*' To my mind," aaid the doctor, " Jerry's knee action does
not merit the extravagant praiso you bestowed upon it. It if
not hiffh enough to please me."

" There you are wrong," sais I, " that's the mistake most
people make. It is not the height of the action, but the nature
of it, that is to be re^rded. A high-stepping horse pleases the
eye more than the judgment. He seems to go faster than he
does. There is not only power wasted in it, but it injures the
foot. My idea is this ; you may comjpare a man to a man, and
a woman to a woman, for the two, mcluding young and old,
make the world. You see more of them and know more about
'em than horses, for you have your own structure to examine
and compare them by, and can talk to them, and if they are of
the feminine gender, hear their own account of themselves.
They can speak, for they were not behind the door when tongues
were given out, I can tell you. The range of your experience
is larger, for you are always with them, but how few bosses does
a man own in his life. How few he examines, and how little
he knows about other folk's beasts. They don't live with you,
you only see them when you mount, drive, or visit the stable.
They have separate houses of their own, and pretty buildings
they are too in general, containin' about as much space for
sleepin' as a berth on board a ship, and about as much ventila-
tion too, and the poor critters get about as little exercise as
passengers, and are just about worth as much as they are when
they land for a day's hard tramp. Poor critters, they have to
be on their taps most all the time.* The Arab and the Cana-
dian have the nest horses, not only because they have the best
breed, but because one has no stalls, ..^d t'other has no stable
treatment.

" Now in judging of a horse's action, I compare him not with
other horses, but with animals of a different species. Did you
ever know a fox stumble, or a cat make a false step P I guess
not ; but haven't you seen a bear when chased and tired go head
over heels ? A dog in a general way is a sure-footed critter, but
he trips now and then, and if he was as big as a horse, would
throw his rider sometimes. Now then I look to these animals,
and I find there are two actions to be combined, the knee and the
foot action. The fox and the cat bend the knee easy and supply,
but don't arch *em, and though they go near the ground, they
don't trip. I take that then as a sort of standard. I like my
beast, especially if he is for the saddle, to be said to trot like a

• On their feet.

■■Ji:£^'.'i>iki^

OH, nflll AND FLESn.

300

fox. Now, if he HfU too hiKh, you see, he detcribet half a circle,
and don't go ahead as he ought, and then he pounds hit frog
into a sort of mortar at every step, for the homy ihell of a foot
is just like one. Well then, if ne sends his fore leg away out
in front, and his hind leg away out behind like a hen scratchin*
gravel, he moves more like an ox than anything else, and haiute
sufficient power to fetch them home quick enough for fast move-
ment. Tnon the foot action is a great point, I looked at this
critter's tracks on the pasture and asked myself. Does he cut
turf, or squaHh it flat? If he cuts it as a gardener does weeds
with his spade, then good bye, Mr Jerry, you won't suit me, it's
very well to dance on your toes, but it don't convene to irausl
on em, or you're apt to make somersets.

" Now, a neck is a valuable thing. "We have two legs, two
eyes, two hands, two ears, two nostrils, and so on, but we have
only one neck, which makes it so easy to hang a fellow, or to
break it by a chuck from your saddle ; and besides, we can'i
mend it, as we do a leg or an arm. When it's broken it's done
for ; and what use is it if it's insured ? The money don't go to
you, but to your heirs, and half the time they wouldn't cry, ex-
cept for decency sake, if you did break it. Indeed, I knew a
great man once, who got his neck broke, and all his friends said,
for his own reputation, it was a pity he hadn't broke it ten years
sooner. The Lord save me from such friends, I say. Fact is,
a broken neck is only a nine days' wonder after all, and is soon
forgotten.

'' Now, the fox has the right knee action, and the le^ is
' thar.' In the real knee movement, there is a peculiar sprmg,
that must be seen to be known and valued, words don't give
you the idea of it. It's like the wire end of a pair of galluses
—oh, it's charming. It's down and off in a jilFy, like a gall's
finger on a piano when she is doin* chromatic runs. Fact is,
if I am walking out, and see a critter with it, I have to stop
and stare ; and, Doctor, I will tell you a queer thing. Halt and
look at a splendid movin' boss, and the rider is pleased ; he
thinks half the admiration is for him, as rider and owner, and
t'other half for his trotter. The gony's delighted, chirups hia
beast, gives him a sly touch up with the off heel, and shows him
off to advantage. But stop and look at a woman, and she is as
mad as a hatter. She don't care how much you look at her, as
long as you don't stand still or turn your head round. She
wouldn't mind slackin' her pace if you only attended to that.

" Now the fox has that special springy movement I speak
of, and he puts his foot down flat, he bends the grass rather to
him, than from him, if anything, but most commonly crumples

810

THE DEVIL'S HOLE;

it flat ; but you never see it inclinin' in the line of tlie course
he is runnin' — never. Fact is, they never get a hoist, and that
is a very curious word, it has a very different meanin' at sea
from what it has on land. In one case it means to haul up, in
the other to fall down. The term 'look out ' is just the same.
" A canal boat was once passing through a narrow lock on
the Erie line, and the captain hailed the passengers and said,
* Look out.' Well, a Frenchman thinking something strange
was to be seen, popt his head out, and it was cut off in a min-
ute. ' Oh, mon Dieu ! ' said his comrade, * dat is a very striking
lesson in English. On land, look out means, open de window
and see what you will see. On board canal boat it means, haul
your head in, and don't look at nothin'.'

" Well, the worst hoist that I ever had was from a very high-
actioned mare, the down foot slipped, and t'other was too high
to be back in time for her to recover, and over both of us went
kerlash in the mud. I was skeered more about her than myself,
lest she should git the skin of her knee cut, for to a knowing
one's eye that's an awful blemish. It's a long story to tell how
such a blemish warn't the boss's fault, for I'd rather praise than
apologize for a critter any time. And there is one thing few
people knows. Let the cut come which way it will, the animal
is never so safe afterwards. Nature's bandage, the skin, is sev'
ered, and that leg is the weakest.

" Well, as I was a sayin', Doctor, there is the knee action
and the foot action, and then there is a third thing. The leg
must be just thar.**

« Where ? " said the doctor.

" Thar," said I, " there is only one place for that, and that
is * thar,' well forward at the shoulder-point, and not where it
most commonly is, too much under the body — ^for if it's too far
back he stumbles, or too forward he can't 'pick chips quick
sticlf.' Doctor, I am a borin' of you, but the fact is, when I
get a goin' ' talkin' boss,' I never know where to stop. How
much better tempered they are than half the women in the
world, ain't they ? and I don't mean to undervaUy the dear crit-
ters neither by no manner of means, and how much more sense
they have than half the men either, after all their cracking and
bragging ! How grateful they are for kindness, how attached
to you they get. How willin' they are to race like dry dust in
a thunder squaU, till they die for you ! I do love them, that is
a fact, and when I see a feller a ill-usin' of one of 'em, it makes
me feel as cross as two crooked gate-posts, I tell you.

" Indeed, a man that don't love a boss is no man at all. I
don't think he can be religious. A boss makes a man humane

OR, FISH AND FLESH.

811

and tender-hearted, teaches him to feel for othere, to share his
food, and be unselBsh ; to niiticipato wants and supply them ;
to be gentle and patient. Then the boss improves him other-
wise. Ha makes him rise early, attend to meal hours, and to
be cleanly. He softens and improves the heart. AVho is there
that ever went into a stable of a morning, and his critter whin-
nered to him and played his ears back and forward, and turned
his head aftectionately to him, and lifted his fore-feet short and
moved his tail, and tried all he could to express his delight, and
say, ' Morning to you, master,' or when he went up to the manger
and patted his neck, and the lovin' critter rubbed his head agin
him in return, that didn't think within himself, well, after all,
the boss is a noble critter ? I do love him. Is it nothin' to
make a man love at all ? How many fellers get more kicks than
coppers in their life — have no home, nobody to love them and
nobody to love, in whose breast all the affections are pent up,
until they get unwholesome and want ventilation. Is it nothiu*
to such an unfortunate critter to be made a stable help ? Why,
it elevates him in the scale of humanity. He discovers at lust
he has a head to think and a heart to feel. He is a new man.
Hosses wam't given to us. Doctor, to ride steeple-chases, or run
races, or brutify a man, but to add new powers ard lend new
speed to him. He was destined for nobler uses.

" Is it any wonder that a man that ha» owned old Clay likes
to talk boss ? I guess not. If I was a gall I wouldn't have
nothin' to say to a man that didn't love a boss and know all
about him. I wouldn't touch him with a pair of tongs. I'd
scorn him as I would a nigger. Sportsmen breed pheasants to
kill, and amature huntsmen shoot dear for the pleasure of the
slaughter. The angler hooks salmon for the cruel delight he
has in witnessing the strength of their dying struggles. The
black-leg gentleman runs his boss agin time, and wins the race,
and kills his noble steed, and somotimes loses both money and
boss, I wish to gracious he always did ; but the rail hossman.
Doctor, is a rail man, every inch of him, stock, lock, and barrel."

" Massa," said Sorrow, who stood listenin' to me as I was
•warmin' on the subject. " ]VIassa, dis boss will be no manner
of remaginable use under de bleissed bght ob de sun."

"Why, Sorrow?"

" Cause, Massa, he don't understand one word of English,
and de Trench he knows no libbin' soul can understand but a
Cheesencooker, yah, yah, yah ! Dey called him a ' shovel,' and
bis tail a ' queue.' "

" \V hat a goose you are, Sorrow," sais I.

" I'ac, Massa," he said, " fac 1 do ressure you, and dey called

812

THE devil's hole;

de little pi'pgy doctor fell over, ' a coach* Dod drat my hide
if they didn't yah, yah, yah !"

" The English ought to import, Doctor," gais I, " some of
these into their country, for as to ridin' and drivin' there is
nothin' like them. But catch Britishers admitting there is any-
thing good in Canada, but the oflBce of Governor- General, the
military commands, and other pieces of patronage, which they
keep to themselves, and then say they have nothing left. Ah
me ! times is altered, as Elgin knows. The pillory and the peer-
age have changed places. Once, a man who did wrong was first
elevated, and then pelted. A peer is now assailed with eggs,
and then exalted."

" Palmam qui meruit fer at ^'' said the doctor.

" Is that the Latin for how many hands high the horse is ? "
sais I. " Well, on an average, say fifteen, perhaps oftener less
than more. It's the old Norman horse of two centuries ago, a
compound of the Flemish stock and the Barb, introduced into
the Low Countries by the Spaniards. Havin' been transported
to Canada at that early period, it has remained unchanged, and
now may be called a distinct breed, differing widely in many
respects from those found at the present day in the locations
from which they originally came. But look at the amazin'
strength of his hip, look at the lines, and anatomical formation
(as you would say) of his frame, which fit him for both a saddle
and a gig boss. Look at his chest, not too wide to make him
paddle in his gait, nor too narrow to limit his wind. Observe
all the points of strength. Do you see the bone below the knee
and the freedom of the cord there. Do you mark the eye and
head of the Barb. Twig the shoulder, the identical medium for
a boss of all work, and the enormous power to shove him ahead.
This fellow is a picture, and I am glad they have not mutilated
or broken him. He is just the boss I have been looking for,
for our folks go in to the handle for fast trotters, and drive so
much and ride so little, it ain't easy to get the right saddle beast
in our State. The Cape Breton pony is of the same breed,
though poor feed, exposure to the weather, and rough usage has
caused nim to dwindle in size; but they are the toughest,
hardiest, strongest, and most serviceable of their inches, I know
anywhere."

I always feel scared when I git on the subject of bosses for
fear I should ear-vdg people, so I stopt short ; " And," sais I,
" Doctor, I think 1 have done pretty well with the talking tacks,
spose you give me some of your experience in the trapping line,
you must have had some strange adventures in your time."

" Well, I have," said he, " but 1 have listened with pleasure

OK, FISH AND FLESH.

813

to you, for although I am not experienced in horses, performing
most of my journeys on foot, 1 see you know what you aro
talking about, for I am familiar with the anatomy of the horse.
My road is the trackless forest, and I am more at home there
than in a city. Like you I am fond of nature, but unlike you
I know little of human nature, and I would rather listen to your
experience than undergo the labour of acquiring it. Man is
an artiticial animal, but all the inhabitants of the forest are
natural. The study of their habits, propensities, and instincts
is very interesting, and in this country the only one that is
formidable is the bear, for he is not only strong and courageous,
but he has the power to climb trees, which no other auimal will
attempt in pursuit of man in Nova Scotia. The bear therefore
is an \ gly customer, particularly the female when she has her
cubs about her, and a man requires to have his wits about him
when she turns the table on him and hunts him. But you know
these things as well as I do, and to tell you the truth there is
little or nothing that is new to be said on the subject ; one bear
hunt is like another. The interest of these things is not so
much in their incidents or accidents, as in the mode of telling
them."

" That's a fact," sais I, " Doctor. But what do you suppose
was the object Providence had in view in filling the world with
beasts of prey ? The east has its lions, tigers, and boa-con-
strictors ; the south its panthers and catamounts ; the north its
bears and wolves ; and the west its crocodiles and rattle-snakes.
We read that dominion was given over the birds of the air, the
fish of the sea, and the beast of the forest, and yet no man in a
state of nature scarcely is a match for any one of these crea-
tures ; they don't minister to his wants, and he can't tame them
to his uses."

" I have often asked myself. Slick," said he, " the same ques-
tion, for nothing is made in vain, but it is a query not easy to
answer. My own opinion is, they were designed to enforce
civilisation. Without these terrors attending a sojourn in the
wilderness, man would have wandered off as they do, and lived
alone; he would have made no home, dwelt with no wife, and
nurtured no children. His descendants would have done the
same. When he encountered another male, he would have given
him battle, perhaps killed and eat him. His very language
would have perished, if ever he had any, and he would have
been no better than an ourang-outang. The option was not given
him. He was so constructed and so situated, he could not live
alone. Individual strength was insufl&cient for independent
existence. To preserve life he had to herd with his kind. Thus

814

THE DEVILS HOLE.

tribes were first formed, and to preserve one tiibe from the
violence of another, they again united and formed nations. Tliis
combination laid the foundation of civilisation, and as that ex-
tended, these beasts of prey retired to the confines of the coun-
try, enforcing while they still remain the obsen-ance of that
law of nature which assigned to them this outpost duty.

" Where there is nothing revealed to us on the subject, all
is left to conjecture. Whatever the cause was, we know it was
a wise end a necessary one ; and this appears to me to be the
most plausible reason I can assign. Perhaps we may also trace
a further purpose in their creation, in compelling by the terror
they inspire the inferior animals to submit themselves to man,
who is alone able to protect them against their formidable ene-
mies, or to congregate, so that he may easily find them when
he requires food ; and may we not further infer that man also
may by a similar sense of weakness be led to invoke in like
manner the aid of Him who made all things and governs all
things ? Whatever is, is right," and then he quoted two Latin
lines.

I hate to have a feller do that, it's like throwin' an apple
into the water before a boy. He either has to lose it and go
cflf disappointed, wonderin' what its flavour is, or else wade out
for it, and like as not get out of his depth afore he knows where
he is. So I generally make him first translate it, and then wi'ite
it down for me. He ain't likely after that to do it a second
time. Here are the words :

" Siquid novisti rectius istis
Candidas imperii, bI uon his utere mecum.'*

CHAPTEE XXI^.

*HE CUCUMBER LAKE.

** Hebe is a place imder the lee bow," said the pilot, " in
which there are sure to be some coasters, among whom the mate
may find a market for his wares, and make a gv^od exchange for
his mackarel."

So we accordingly entered and cast anchor among a fleet of
fore-aiid-afters in one of those magnificent ports with wliich
the eastern coast is so liberally supplied.

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

815

" There is some good salmon-fishing in the stream that falls
into the harbour," said the doctor, "suppose we trjr our rods;"
and while Cutler and his people were occupied in traffic, we
rowed up the river beyond the little settlement, which had no-
thing attractive in it, and landed at the last habitation we could
Some thirty or forty acres had been cleared of the wood,

8e6>

the fields were well fenced, and a small stock of homed cattle,
principally young ones, and a few sheep, were grazing in the
pasture. A substantial rough log hut and bam were the only
buildings. With the exception of two little children playing
about the door, there were none of the family to be seen.

On entering the house, we found a young woman, who ap-
peared to be ir ^ sole occupant. She wa« about twenty-five years
of age ; tall, well formed, strong, and apparently in the enjoy-
ment of good health and spirits. She had a fine open counten-
ance., an artless and prepossessing manner, and was plainly but
comfortably clad in the ordinary homespun of the country, and
not on^y looked neat herself, but everything around her waa
beautifully clean. It was manifest she had been brought up in
one of the older townships of the province, for there was an ease
and air about her somewhat superior to the log hut in which we
found h^r. The furniture was simple and of rude manufacture,
but suiii^ )nt for the wants of a small family, though here and
there was an article of a diflferent kind and old-fashioned shape,
that looked as if it had once graced a substantial farm-house,
probably a present from the inmates of the old homestead.

We soon found from her that she and her husband were as
she said new beginners, who, like most persons in the wilderness,
had had many difficulties to contend with, which iiom accidental
causes had during the past year been greatly increased. The
weavil had destroyed their grain crop and the rot their potatoes,
their main dependence, and they had felt the pressure of hard
times. She had good hopes however she said for the present
season, for they had sowed the golden straw wheat, which they
heard was exempt from the ravages of insects, and their potatoes
had been planted early on burnt land without bam manure, and
she was confident they would thereby be rescued from the dis-
ease. Her husband, she informed us, in order to earn some
money to make up for their losses, had entered on board of an
American fishing vessel, and she was in daily expectation of his
arrival, to remain at home until the captain should call for him
again, after he had landed his cargo at Portland. All this was
told in a simple and unaffected manner, but there was a total
absence of complaint or despondency, which often accompany
the recital of such severe trials.

* ;

810

TKE CUCUMBER LAKE.

Having sent Sorrow back in the boat with an injunction to
watch our signal of recall, we proceeded further up the river, and
commenced tishing. In a short time we killed two beautiful
salmon, but the black flies and musquitoes were so intolerably
troublesome, wo were compelled to return to the log hut. I
asked permission of our cheerful, tidy young hostess to broil a
piece of the salmon by her fire, more for tho purpose of leaving
the fish with her than anything che, when she immediately
offered to perform that friendly office for us herself.

" T believe," she said, " I have a drawing of tea left," and
taking from the shelf a small mahogany caddy, emptied it of
its contents. It was all she had. The flour-barrel was also ex-
amined and enough was gathered, as she said by great good
luck, to make a few cakes. Her old man, she remarked, for so
she termed her young husband, would be back in a day or two
and bring a fresh supply. To relieve her of our presence, while
she was busied in those preparations, we strolled to the bank of
the river, where the br3eze in the open ground swept away our
tormentors, the venomous and ravenous flies, and by the time
our meal was ready, returned almost loaded with trout. I do
not know that I ever enjoyed anything more than this unex-
pected meal. The cloth was snowy white, the butter deUcious,
and the eggs fresh laid. In addition to this, and what rendered
it so acceptable, it was a free offering of the heart.

In the course of conversation I learned from her, that the
first year they had been settled there they had been burnt out,
and lost nearly all they had, but she didn't mind that she said,
for, thank God, she had saved her children, and she believed
they had originally put up their building in the wrong place.
The neighbours had been very kind to them, helped them to
erect a new and larger house, near the beautiful spring we saw
in the green; and besides, she and her husband were both
young, and she really believed they were better off than they
were before the accident.

Poor thing, she didn't need words of comfort, her reliance
on Providence and their own exertions was so great, she seemed
to have no doubt as to their ultimate success. Still, though she
did not require encouragement, confirmation of her hopes, I
knew, would be grateful to her, and I told her to tell her hus-
band on no account to think of parting with or removing from
the place, for I ob.^erved there was an extensive intervale of
capital quality, an excellent mill privilege on the stream where
1 caught the salmon, and as he had the advantage of water
carriage, that the wood on the place, which was of a quality to

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

817

suit the Halifax market, would soon place him in indopondent
circumstances.

" He will be glad to hear you think bo, Sir," she replied, "for
he has often said the very same thing himself; but the folks at the
settlement laugh at him when he talks that way, and say he is
too sanguine. But I am sure he ain't, for it is very much like
my poor father's place in Colchester, only it has the privilege
of a harbour which he had not, and that is a great thing,"

The signal for Sorrow having been hung out for some time,
we rose to take leave, and wishing to find an excuse for leaving
some money behind me, and recollecting having seen some cows
in the field, I asked her if she could sell me some of her excel-
lent butter for the use of the cabin. She said she could not do
80, for the cows all had calves, and she made but little ; but she
nad five or six small prints, if I would accept them, and she
could fill me a bottle or two with cream.

I felt much hurt — I didn't know what to do. She had given
me her last ounce of tea, baked her last cake, and presented mr
with all the butter she had in the house. " Could or would you
have done that ?" said I to myself, " come, Sam, speak the truth
now." "Well, Squire, I only bi*ag when I have a right to boast,
though you do say I am always brim full of it, and I won't go
for to deceive you or myself either, I know I couldn't, that's a
fact. I have mixed too much with the world, my feelings have
got blunted, and my heart ain't no longer as soft as it used to
did to be. I can give, and give liberally, because I am able, but
I give what I don't want and what I don't miss ; but to give as
this poor woman did all she had of these two indispensable ar-
ticles, tea and flour, is a thing, there is no two ways about it,
I could not.

I must say I was in a fix ; if I was to offer to pay her,
I knew I should only wound her feelings. She derived pleasure
from her hospitality, why should 1 deprive her of that grati-
fication ? If she delighted to give, why should I not in a like
feeling be pleased to accept, when a grateful reception was all
that was desired — must I be outdone in all things i must she
teach me how to give freely and accept gracefully ?

She shall have her way this hitch, and so will I have mine
bime by, or the deuce is in the die. I didn't surely come to Lis-
combe Harbour to be taught those things.

"Tell your husband," sais I, "I think ver^ highly of his
location, and if hard times continue to pinch him, or he needs
a helping hand, I am both able !ind willing to assist him, and
will nave great pleasure in doing so for her sake who has so

31S

THE CUCUMBER LAKE,

kindly entertained us in his absence. Here is my card and ad-
dress, if he wants a friend let him come to me, and if he can't
do that, write to me, and he will find I am on hand. Any man
in Boston will tell him where Sam Slick lives."

"Who?" said she.

" Sara Slick," sais I.

" My goodness," said she, " are vou the Mr Slick who used
to sell — " She paused and coloured slightly, thinking perhaps,
as many people do, I would be ashamed to be remmded of
pedling.

" Wooden clocks," sais I, helping her to the word. " Tes,"
sais I, " I am Sam Slick the Clocicmaker, at least what is left
of me."

* Goodness gracious, Sir," said she, advancing and shaking
hands cordially with me, " how glad I am to see you ! You don't
recollect me of course, I have grown so since we met, and I
don't recollect your features, for it is so long ago, but I mind
seeing you at mv father's old house. Deacon Flint's, as well as
if it was yesterday. We bought a clock from you ; you asked
mother's leave to let you put it up, and leave it in the room till
you called for it. You said you trusted to * soft sawder ' to get
it into the house, and to * human natur * that it should never
come out of it. How often our folks have laughed over that
story. Dear, dear, only to think we should have ever met
again," and going to a trunk she took out of a bark-box a silver
sixpence with a hole in it, by which it was suspended on a black
ribbon.

" See, Sir, do you recollect that, you gave that to me for a
keepsake ? you said it was ' luck-money.' "

" Well," sais I, ^^ if that don't pass, don't it ? Oh, dear, how
glad I am to see you, and yet how sad it makes me too ! I am
delighted at meetin' you so onexpected, and yet it makes me
feel so old it scares me. It only seems as if it was the other
day when I was at your father's hous?, and since then you have
growd up from a little girl into a tall handsome woman, got
married, been settled, and are the mother of two children. Dear
me, it's one o' the slaps old Father Time gives me in the face
sometimes, as much as to hint, ' I say, Slick, you are gettin' too
old now to talk so much nonsense as you do.' Well," sais I,
" my words have come true aboui; » bat silver sixpence."

" Come here, my little man," sais I to her pretty curly-headed
little boy ; " come here to me," and I resumed my seat. " Now,'*
sais I, " my old friend, I will show you how that prophecy is
fulfilled to this child. That clock I sold to Deacon Flint only
cost me five doUars, and five doUars more would pay di.)*y,

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

810

too

freight, and carriage, and all expenses, which left five pounds
clear proKt, but that warn't the least share of the gain. It in-
troduced my wares dl round and through the country, and it
would have paid me well if I had given him a dozen clocks for
his patronage. 1 always thought I would return him that profit
if I could see him, and as I can't do that I will give it to this
little bov," so I took out my pocket-book and gave her twenty
dollars tor him.

" Come," sais I, " my friend, that relieves my conscience now
of a debt of gratitude, for that is what I always intended to do
if I got a chance."

Well, she took it, said it was very kind, and would be a
great help to them ; but that she didn't see what occasion there
was to return the money, for it wf^ nothing but the fair profit
of a trade, and the clock was a ' . excellent one, kept capital
time, and was still standing in liie old house.

Thinks I to myself, " You have taught me two things, my
pretty friend ; first, how to give, and second, how to receive."

Well, we bid her good-bye, and after we had proceeded a
short distance I returned.

Sais I, " Mrs Steele, there is one thing I wish you would do
for me ; is there any cranberries in this neighbourhood ? "

"Plenty, Sir," she said; "at the head of this river there is
an immense bog, chock full of them."

" Well," sais I, " there is nothin' in natur I am so fond of
as them ; I would give anything in the world for a few bushel.
Tell your husband to employ some people to pick me this fall a
barrel of them, and send them to me by one of our vessels, di-
rected to me to Slickville, and when I go on board I will send
you a barrel of flour to pay for it.

"Dear me, Sir," said she, "that's a great deal more than
their value ; why they ain't worth more than two dollars. We
will pick them for you with great pleasure. We don't want
pay."

"Ain't they worth that?" said I, "so much the better.
Well, then, he can send me another barrel the next year.
"WTiy, they are as cheap as buU beef at a cent a pound. Good
bye ; tell him to be sure to come and see me the first time ha
goes to the States. Adieu."

" What do you think of that. Doctor ? " said I, as we pro-
ceeded to the boat ; " ain't that a nice woman ? how cheerful
and uncomplaining she is ; how full of hope and confidence in
the future. Her heart is in the right place, ain't it ? My old
mother had that same sort of contentment about her, only, per-
haps, her resignation was stronger than her hope. When any-

820

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

thins ever went wrong about our place to home to Sliekrille,
■he'd alwayn say, ' Well, Sam, it might have been worse ; ' or,
' Sam, the darkest hour is always iust afore day,' and so on.
But Minister used to amuse me beyond anything, poor old
soul. Once the congregation met and raised his wages from
three to four hundred dollars a-year. Well, it nearly set him
crazy; it bothered him so he could hardly sleep. So after
church was over the next Sunday, he sais, 'My dear brethren,
I hear you have raised my salary to four hundred dollars. I am
greatly obliged to you for ^our kindness, but I can't think of
taking it on no account. First, you can't afford it no how you
can fix it, and I know it ; secondly, I ain't worth it, and you
know it ; and thirdly, I am nearly tired to death collecting my
present income ; if I have to dun the same way for that, it will
kill me. I can't stand it ; I shall die. No, no ; pay me what
you allow me more punctually, and it is all I ask, or will ever
receive.'

" But this poor woman is a fair sample of her class in this
country; I do Delieve the only true friendship and hospitality
is to be found among them. They ain't rich enough for osten-
tation, and are too equal in condition and circumstances for the
action of jealousy or rivalry ; I believe they are the happiest
people in the world, but I know they are the kindest. Their
reelings are not chUled by poverty or corrupted by plenty;
their occupations preclude tne hope of wealth and rorbid the
fear of distress. Dependent on each other for mutual assistance,
in ^Lose things that are beyond individual exertion, they inter-
change friendly offices, which commencing in necessity, grow
into habit, and soon become the * labour of love.' They are
poor, but not destitute, a region in my opinion in whicn the
heart is more fully developed than in any other. Those who
are situated like Steele and his wife, and commence a settle-
ment in the woods, with the previous training they have received
in the rural districts, begin at the right end ; but they are the
only people who are fit to be pioneers in the forest. How
many there are who begin at the wrong end; perhaps there is
no one subject on which men form such false notions as the
mode of settling in the country, whether they are citizens of a
colonial town, or strangers from Great Britain.

" Look at that officer at Halifax : he is the best dressed man
in the garrison ; he is well got up always ; he looks the gentle-
man every inch of him ; how well his horses are groomed ; how
perfect his turn-out looks ; how well appointed it is, as he calls
it. He and his servant and his cattle are a little bit of fashion
imported from the park, and astonish the natives. Look at his

TUE CUCUMBER LAKE.

821

wife, ain't she a beautiful on'aturt*? they are proucl of, and
were ju»t made for each other. This is not njerely all external
ap|)earanee either: tliev atv aoeompliHhed ))eo|)le ; they sin^,
they piny, they Mketeh, they paint, they speak several Un-
guals, thev are well reml, they have many resourees. Hol-
dierin^ is dull, and, in time of peace, only a police service.
It has disagreeable duties ; it involves repeated removals, and
the alternation of bad climates — from Hudson's Bay to Cal-
cutta's Black Hole. The juniors of the rejB^mental officers
are mere boys, the seniors great empty cartouch-boxes, and
the women have cabals, — there is a sameness even in its variety ;
but worse than all, it haa no home — in short, the whole
thing is a bore. It is better to sell out and settle in the
proviiice; land is cheap; their means are ample, and more
than sullicient for the requirements of the colony; country
society is stupid ; there are no people fit to visit. It is best
to be out of the reach of their morning calls and their gos-
sip. A few miles back in the woods there is a splendid
stream with a beautiful cascade on it ; there is a magnificent
lake communicating with several others that form a chain of
many miles in extent. That swelling knoll that slopes so gently
to the water would be such a pretty site for a cottage-orw5,and
the back-ground of hanging wood has an indescribable beauty
in it, especially in the autumn, when the trees -are one complete
mass of variegated hues. He warms on the theme as he dilates
on it, and sings as be turns to his pretty wife :

/-^

' I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled

Above the green elms that a cottage was near ;
And I said, if there's peace to be found in the world,
The heart that is humble might hope for it here.'

" How sweet to plan, how pleasant to execute. How ex-
citing to see it grow under one's own eye, the work of one's
own hand, the creation of one's own taste. It is decided on ;
Dechamps retires, the papers go in, the hero goes out — what a
relief! no inspection of soldiers' dirty kits — no parade bv day
—no guards nor rounds by night — no fatigue parties of men
who never fatigue thems Ives — no stupid court-martial — no
horrid punishments — no reviews to please a colonel who never
is pleased, or a g eneral who will swear — no marching through
streets, to be stai'ed at by housemaids from upper windows, and
by dirty boys in the side paths — no procession to follow brass
instruments, like the train of a circus — ^no bearded band-master
with bis gold cane to lead on his musicians, and no bearded
white goat to march at the head of the regiment. All, all are
gone. 21 '

a22

THE CUCL'MIIEU L.\KE.

" Ifj' JHoiit of livory, he lm« plnyed nt Holdierinp; lonjjonouijh,
ho in tirtMl of tho ^ainc, he bcIIh out, the nmn of hiiHiiirsH is
enlh'd in, his Ijiwyer, oh he terms him, bh if every Kenth-iimtj kept
a lawyer aa lie doea a footman. He is in a hurry to huv«> the
purchase completed with as little delay as possible. But delays
will occur, he is no longer a centurion and a man of authority,
who has nothing to do but to say to this one, Come, and he
Cometh ; and another, Go, and he gocth ; Do this, and it is done.
He can't put a lawyer under arrest, he is a man of arrests him-
self, lie never heard of an attachment for contempt, and if he
had, he couldn't understand it; for, when the devil was an
attome; , he invented the term, as the softest and kindest name
for the hardest and most unkind process there is. Attachment
for contempt^ what a mockery of Christian forgiveness !

" A conveyancer is a slow coach, he must proceed cautiously,
he has a long journey to take, he has to travel back to a grant
from the crown, through all the 'mesne' conveyances. He
don't want a mean conveyance, he will pay liberally if it is only
done quickly; and is informed 'mesne' m law signifies inter-
mediate. It is hard to say what the language of law does mean.
Then there are searches to be made in the record offices, and
the — damn the searches, for he is in a hurry and loses his
patience — search at the bankers, and all will be found nght.
Then there are releases and assignments and discharges. He
can stand it no longer, he releases his lawyer, discharges him,
and assigns another, who hints, insinuates, he don't charge;
but gives him to understand his predecessor was idle. He will
lose no tin.e, indeed he has no time to lose, he is so busy with
other clients' aft'airs, and is as slow as the first man was.

" But at last it is done ; the titles are completed. He ia
presented with a huge pile of foolscap paper, very neatly folded,
DeautifuUy engrossed and endorsed m black letters, and nicely
tied up with red tape, which, with sundry plans, surveys, and
grants, are secured in a large despatch box, or^ which are in-
scribed in gold letters the ^ Epaigwit estate.^ It is a pretty
Indian word that, it means the ' home on the wave.' It is the
original name of that gem of the western ocean which the vul-
gar inhabitants have christened Prince Edward's Island.

" But what can you expect of a people whose governor calls
the gentry * the upper crust of society,' and who in their turn
see an affinity between a Scotch and a Roman fiddle, and de-
nounce him as a Nero ? But then who looks, as he says, for
taste in a colony ? it is only us Englishmen who have any. Yes,
he calls this place ' Epaigwit.' It has a distingue appearance
on his letters. It has now a name, the next thing is ' a local

THE Cl'crMIJKU L.VKK.

323

Imliitatioii.' Wtll, \v«' wcm't utop to di'soribo it, b\it it hnii nn
t'l»';;iuit (Iniwini^-rooin. it' tlun- \mij» only rompany to mlli'i-t in
it, n HimcioiiB diniiti^-room, und though only two pliit<>fl nn^ on
the lublf t\wtv in room for twrnty, nnd a channiug study, only
nwnitini; liiM leiHiiri' t(» »'nj«>y it, and «o on.

"It iH dont* und tlw cU'winn carriod out, tlu)U(!;h not oom-

Idetod; prudruff l(»rl)i«ln a tiirtiu'r t'xp«'ndituro junt now. It
uiH coMt live times uh nuicli ha was contemplated, and in not
worth a tenth i)art of the tmtjay, still it is very heautit'ul.
StrangerH ^o to see it, and every one pronounces it th«» prettiest
tiling in the jjowcr j)rovine*'M. There have been some littlo
drawhaeks, but they are to b«; expected in n colony, and amoni»
the Ooths and Vandals who live there. The contractors have
repudiated their aj^reement on account ol* the extensive alter-
ations made in the design and the nature ot" the work, and ho
has found there is law in the country if not justice. The serv-
ants find it too lonely, they have no taste for the beauties of
nature, and remain without work, or quit without notice. If
he refuses to pay he is sued, if he pays he is cheated. The
house leaks, for the nuiterials are p;reeu ; the chimneys smoke,
for the drafts are in the wronj; j)lace. The children are tor-
mented by black 'lies and musquitoes, and their eyes are so
swelled they can'l see. The bears make love to his sheep, and
the minks and foxes devour his poultry. The Indians who
come to beg are su|)[)osed to come to murder, and the negroes
who come to sell wild berries are suspected of coming to steal.
He has no neighbours, he did not desire any, and if a heavy
weight has to be lifted, it is a little, but not much, inconvenience
to send to the town for assistance ; and the people go cheerfully,
for they have only five miles to come, ana five to return, and
they are not detained more than five minutes, for he never asks
them into his house. The butcher won't come so far to carry
his meat, nor the baker his bread, nor the postman to deliver
his letters.

" The church is too far off, and there is no school. But the
clergyman is not fit to be heard, he is such a drone in the pul-
pit ; and it is a sweet employment to train one's own children,
who thus avoid contamination by not associating with vulgar
companions.

" These are trifling vexations, nnd what is there in this life
that has not some little drawback ? But there is something
very charming in perfect independence, in living for each other,
and in residing in one of the most delightful spots in America,
surrounded by the most exquisite scenery that was ever beheld.
There is one thing however that is annoying. The country

321

THE CUCUMBEIt LAKE.

!)eople will not use or adopt that pretty word Epaigwit, ' tlie
lome of the wave,' which rivals iu beauty of conception au
eastern expression. The place was originally granted to a fel-
low of the name of Umber, who was called after the celebrated
navigator Cook. These two words when united tioon became
corrupted, and the magnificent sheet of water was designated

* the Cucumber Lake,' while its splendid cataract, known iu
ancient days by the Indians as the ' Pan-ook,' or * the River's
Leap,' is perversely called by way of variation ' the Cowcumber
Falls;' can anything be conceived more vulgar or more vex-
atious, unless it be their awkward attempt at pronunciation,
which converts Epaigwit into 'a pig's wit,' and Pan-ook into
'Pond-hook?'

" But then, what can you expect of such boors, and who
cares, or v. hat does it matter? for after all, if you come to that,
the ' Cunilterland Lakes' is not very euphonious, as he calls it,
whatever that means, lie is right in saying it is a beautiful
place, and, as he often observes, what an immense sum of phoney it
would be worth if it were only in England! but the day is not
far distant, now that the Atlantic is bridged by steamers, when

* bug-men' will give place to tourists, and 'Epaigwit' will be
the ' Killarney ' of America. He is quite right, that day will
come, and so will the millennium, but it is a good way off yet ;
and dear old Minister used to say there was no dependable
authority that it ever would come at all.

" Now and then a brother officer visits him. Elliott is there
now, not the last of the Elliotts, for there is no end of them,
and though only a hundred of them have been heard of in t^e
V'orld, there are a thousand well known to the Treasury. But
he is the last chum from his regiment he will ever see. As they
sit after dinner he hands the olives to his friend, and suddenly
checks himself, saying, I forgot^ you never touch the ' after-feed*
Then he throws up both eyes and hands, and affects to look
aghast at the mistake. ' Eeally,' he says, ' I shall soon become
Hs much of a boor as the people of this country. I hear nothing
low but mowing, browsing, and ' after-feed,' until at last I find
myself using the latter word for ' dessert.' He says it prettily
and acts it well, and although his wife has often listened to the
same joke, she looks as if it would bear repetition, and her face
expresses great pleasure. Poor Dechamps, if your place is
worth nothing, she at least is a treasure above all price.

"Presently Elliott sais, *By-the-by, Dechamps, have you
heard we are ordered to Corfu, and embark immediately?'

" Dear me, what magic there is in a word. Sometimes it
discloses in painfid distinctness the past, at others it reveals a

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

32.1

- i ,

prophetic parje of the future; who would ever suppose there was
an_vthin£]f in that little insij^^iificant word to occasion a thought,
unless it was whether it is j)ronounc'.'d Corfoo or Corl'ew, and
it's so little consequence which, I alwa^a give it the go by and
Bay Ionian Isles.

" But it startled Dechamps. He had hoped before he letl
the army to have been ordered there, and from thence to have
visited the classic coasts of Greece. Alas, that vision has gone,
and there is a slight sigh of regret, for possession faeldom equals
expectation, and always cloys. He can never more see his regi-
ment, they have parted for ever. Time and distance have soft-
ened some of the rougher features of military life. He thinks
of the joyous days of youth, the varied scenes of life, his pro-
fession exposed to his view, and the friends he has left behind
him. The service he thinks not so intolerable after all, and
though regimental society is certainly not what he should choose,
especially as a married man, yet, except in a rollicking corps, it
may at least negatively be said to be ' not bad.'

" From this review of the past he turns to the prospect be-
fore him. But he discerns something that he does not like to
contemplate, a slight shadow passes over his face, and he asks
Elliott to pass the wine. His wife, with the quickness of per-
ception so natural to a woman, sees at once what is passing in
his mind ; for similar, but deeper, far deeper thoughts, like un-
bidden guests, have occupied hers many an anxious hour. Poor
thing, she at once perceives her duty and resolves to fulfil it.
She will be more cheerful. She at least will never murmur.
After all, Doctor, it's no great exaggeration to call a woman
that has a good head and kind heart, and the right shape, build,
and bearings, an angel, is it ? But let us mark their progress,
for we shall he better able to judge then.

" Let us visit Epaigwit again in a few years. "Who is that
man near the gate that looks unlike a servant, unlike a farmer,
unlike a gentleman, unlike a sportsman, and yet has a touch of
all four characters about him ? He has a shocking bad hat ou
but what's the use of a good hat in the woods, as poor Jackson
said, where there is no one to see it. He has not been shaved
since last sheep-shearing, and has a short black pipe in his mouth,
and the tobacco smells like nigger-head or pig-tail. He wears
a coarse check shirt without a collar, a black silk neck-cloth
frayed at the edge, that looks like a rope of old ribbons. His
coat appears as if it had once been new, but had been on its
travels, until at last it had got pawned to a Jew at Eag-alley.
His waistcoat was formerly buff, but now resembles yellow
ilainifc'l. and the buttons, though complete in number are of dif-

320

THE CUCUMBEU LAKE.

ferent sorts. The trowsers are homespun, much worn, and his
boots coarse enough to swap with a fisherman for mackarel.
His air and look betokens pride rendered sour by poverty.

" But there is something worse than all this, something one
never sees without disgust or pain, because it is the sure pre
cursor of a diseased body, a shattered intellect, and voluntary
degradation. There is a bright red colour that extends over
the whole face, and reaches behind the ears. The whiskers are
prematurely tipt with white, as if the heated skin refused to
nourish them any longer. The lips are slightly swelled, and the
inflamed skin indicates inward fever, while the eyes are blood-
shot, the under lids distended, and incline to shrink from con-
tact with the heated orbs they were destined to protect. He
is a dram-drinker ; and the poison that he imbibes with New
England rum is as fatal, and nearly as rapid in its destruction,
as strikline.

" "Who is he ; can you guess ? do you give it up ? He is
that handsome officer, the Laird of Epaigwit as the Scotch would
say, the general as we should call him, for we are liberal cf
titles, and the man that lives at Cow-cumber Falls, as they say
here. Poor fellow, he has made the same discovery Sergeant
Jackson did, that there is no use of good things in the woods
where there is no one to see them. He is about to order you off
his premises, but it occurs to him that would be absurd, for he has
nothing now worth seeing. He scrutinises you however to ascer-
tain if he has ever seen you before. He fears recognition, for he
dreads both your pity and your ridicule ; so he strolls leisurely
back to the house with a certain bull-dog air of defiance.

" Let us follow him thither ; but before we enter, observe
there is some glass out of the window, and its place supplied by
shingles. The stanhope is in the coach-house, but the by-road
was so full o:^ stumps and cradle-hills, it was impossible to drive
in it, and the moths have eaten the lining out. The carriage
has been broken so often it is not worth repairing, and the
double harness has been cut up to patch the tacklin' of the
horse-team. The shrubbery has been browsed away by the cat-
tle, and the rank grass has choked all the rose bushes and pretty-
little flowers. What is the use of these things in the woods ?
That remark was on a level with the old dragoon's intellect ; but
I am surprised that this intelligent oflicer, this man of the world,
this martinet, didn't also discover, that he who neglects himselt
soon becomes so careless as to neglect his other duties, and that
to lose sight of them is to create and invite certain ruin. But
let us look at the interior.

" There are some pictures on the walls, and there are yellow

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

527

Btains where others hun*;. Where are thcv? for I tliiiik I
/ heard a man say he boufj;ht them ou account of their handsome
frames, from that crack-brained officer at Cucumber Lake ; and
he shut his eye, and looked knowing and whispered, ' Something
wrong there, had to sell out of the army ; some queer story
about another wife still living ; don't know particulars.' Poor
Dechamps, you are guiltless of tliat charge at any rate, to my
certain knowledge ; hut how often does slander bequeath to folly
that which of right belongs to crime ! The nick-knacks, the an-
tique china, the Apostles' spoons, the queer little old-fashioned
silver ornaments, the French clock, the illustrated works, and
all that sort of thing, — all, all are gone. The housemaids broke
some, the children destroyed others, and the rest were sent to
auction, merely to secure their preservation. The paper is
stained in some places, in others has peeled off; but where under
the sun have all the accomplishments gone to ?

" The piano got out of tune, and there was nobody to put it
in order : it was no use ; the strings w ere taken out, and the
case was converted into a cupboard. The machinery of the
harp became rusty, and the cords were wanted for something
else. But what is the use of these things in the woods where
there is nobody to see them ? But here is Mrs Dechamps. Is
it possible ! My goody gracious as I am a living sinner ! "Well
I never in all my bom days ! what a dreadful wreck ! you know
how handsome she was. Well, I won't describe her now, I
pity her too much. Tou know I said they were counterparts,
just made for each other, and so they were ; but they are of dif-
ferent sexes, made of different stuff, and trouble has had a dif-
ferent effect on them. He has neglected himself, and she is
negligent of her dress too, but not in the same way. She is still
neat, but utterly regardless of what her attire is ; but let it be
what it may, and let her put on what she will, still she looks
like a lady. But her health is gone, and her spirits too ; and
in their place a little, delicate hectic spot has settled in her
cheek, beautiful to look at, but painful to think of. This faint
blush is kindly sent to conceal consumption, and the faint smile
is assumed to hide the broken heart. If it didn't sound un-
feelin', I should say she was booked for an early train ; but I
think so if I don't say so. The hour is fixed, the departure
certain ; she is glad to leave Epaigwit.

" Somehow though I must say I am a little disappointed in
her. She w^as a soldier's wife ; I thought she was made of better
stuff, and if she had died would have at least died game. Sup-
pose they have been unfortunate in pitching their tent ' on tin;
home of the wave,' and got aground, and their effects have been

328

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

thrown overboard ; what is that, aftor all ? Tlionsands have done
the Hame; there is still hope for them. They are more than a
match for these casualties ; how is it she has fjiven up so soon ?
"Well, don't allude to it, but there is a sad traf:pcal story connect-
ed with that lake. Do you recollect that beautiful curly-headed
child, her eldest daughter, that she used to walk with at Hali-
fax ? Well, she grew up into a magnificent girl ; she was full
of health and spirits, and as fleet and as wild as a hare. She
lived in the woods and on the lake. She didn't shoot, and she
didn't fish, but she accompanied those who did. The beautiful
but dangerous b&ik canoe was her delight ; she never was happy
but when she was in it, Tom Hodges, the orphan boy they had
brought with them from the regiment, who alone of all their
servants had remained faithful in their voluntary exile, was the
only one permitted to accompany her ; for he was so careful, so
expert, and so good a swimmer. Alas ! one night the canoe re-
turned not. What a long, eager, anxious night was that ! bu '•-
towards noon the next day the upturned bark drifted by the
shore , and then it was but too evident that that sad event which
the anxious mother had so often dreaded and predicted had come
to pass. They had met a watery grave. Often and often were
the whole chain of lakes explored, but their bodies were never
found. Entangled in the long grass and sunken driftwood that
covered the bottom of these basins, it was not likely they would
ever rise to the surface.

" It was impossible to contemplate that fearful lake without
a shudder. They must leave the place soon and for ever. Oh,
had Emily's life been spared, she could have endured any and
everything for her sake. Poor thing ! how little she knew what
she was a talking about, as she broke the seal of a letter in a
well-known hand. Her life was spared ; it never was endan-
gered. She had eloped with Tom Hodges — she had reached
Boston — she was very happy — Tom was all kindness to her. She
hoped they would forgive her and write to her, for they were
going to California, where they proposed to be married as soon
as they arrived. Who ever appealed to a mother for forgiveness
in vain ? Everything appeared in a new light. The child had
been neglected ; she ought not to have been suffered to spend
so much of her time with that boy ; both her parents had strange-
ly forgotten that they had grown up, and — it was no use to
say more. Her father had locked her out of his heart, and thrown
away the key for ever. He wished she had been drowned, for
in that case she would have died innocent ; and he poured out
such a torrent of imprecations, that the poor mother was terri-
fied lest, as the Persians say, these curses, like fowls, might re-

THE CUCUMHER L.VKE.

32.)

k I

^^ turn homo to roost, or like prayern, might be heard, and proi-uro

'' more than was asked.

*' You may grieve over the conduct of a child, and lament its
untimely death, and trust in God tor his mercy ; but no human
being can reverse the order of things, and first mourn the de-
cease of a child, and then grieve for its disgraceful life ; for there
is a grave again to be dug, and who knoweth whether the end
shall be peace ? We can endure much, but there is a load that
crusheth. Poor thing ! you were right, and your husband wrong.
Woman-uke, your judgment was correct, your impulses good,
and your heari/ in the right place. The child was not to be
blamed, but its parents. You could, if you thought proper, give
up society and live for each other ; you had proved it, and knew
how hollow and false it was ; but your children could not resign
what they never had, nor ignore feelings which God had im-
planted within them. Nature has laws which must and will be
obeyed. The swallow selects its mate, builds its nest, and oc-
cupies itself in nurturing its young. The heart must have some-
thing to love, and if it is restricted in its choice, it will bestow
its affections not on what it would approve and select, but upon
what it may chance to find ; you are not singular in your do-
mestic affliction ; it is the natural consequence of your isolation,
and I have known it happen over and over again.

" Now, Doctor, let us return, after the lapse of a few years,
as I did, to Epaigwit. I shall never forget the impression it
made upon me. It was about this season of the year I went
there to fish, intending to spend the night in a camp, so as to be
ready for the morning sport; ' Why, where am I ? ' sais I to my-
self, when I reached the place. ' Why, surely this ain't Cucum-
ber Lake ! where is that beautiful hanging wood, the temptation
in the wilderness that ruined poor Dechamps ? gone, not cleared,
but destroyed ; not subdued to cultivation, but reduced to deso-
lation.' Tall gaunt black trees stretch out their withered arms
on either side, as if balancing themselves against a fall, while
huge trunks lie scattered over the ground, where they fell in
their fierce conflict with the devouring fire that overthrew them.
The ground is thickly covered with ashes, and large white glis-
tening granite rocks, which had formerly been concealed by moss,
the creeping evergreen, and the smiling, blushing may-flower,
now rear their cold snowy heads that contrast so strangely with
the funereal paU that envelopes all around them. No living
thing is seen there, nor bird, nor animal, nor insect, nor verdant
plant ; even the hardy fire-weed has not yet ventured to intrude
on this scene of desolation, and the woodpecker, afraid of the
atmosphere which charcoal has deprived of vitality, shrinks back

330

THE CUCUMBER LAKE.

in terror when he approaches it. Poor Dechamps, had you re-
mained to witness tins awful conflagration, you would have ob-
served in those impenetrable boulders of granite a type of the
hard, cold, unfeeling world around you, and in that withered and
blackened forest, a fitting emblem of your blighted and blasted
prospects.

" But if the trees had disappeared from that side of the lake,
thev had been reproduced on the other. The fields, the lawn,
ancl the garden were over-run with a second growth of wood that
had nearly concealed the house from view. It was with some
difficulty I forced my way through thechaparel (thicket), which
was rendered almost impenetrable by thorns, Virginia creepers,
honeysuckles, and sweet-briars, that had spread in the wildest
profusion. The windows, doors, mantle-pieces, bannisters, and
every portable thing had been removed from the house by the
blacks, who had squatted in the neighbourhood ; even the chim-
neys had been taken down for the bricks. The swallows were
the sole tenants ; the barn had fallen a prey to decay and storms,
and the roof lav comparatively uninjured at some distance on
the ground. A pair of glistening eyes, peeping through a
broken board at the end, showed me that the foxes had appro-
priated it to their own use. The horse-stable, coach-house, and
other buildings were in a similar state of dilapidation.

" I returned to the camp, and learned that Mrs Dechamps
was reposing in peace in the village church-yard, the children
had been sent to England to their relatives, and the captain was
residing in California with his daughter and Tom Hodges, who
were the richest people in St Francisco."

" What a sad picture ! " said the doctor.

" Well, it's true though," said I, " ain't it ? "

"I never was at Cucumber Lake," said he, smiling, "but I
have known several similar failures. The truth is, Mr Slick,
though I needn't tell you, for you know better than I do, our
friend Steele began at the right and Dechamps at the wrong
end. The poor native ought always to go to the woods, the emi-
grant or gentleman never ; the one is a rough and ready man ;
he is at home with an axe, and is conversant as well with the
privations and requirements as with the expedients and shifts
of forest life ; his condition is ameliorated every year, and in his
latter days he can afford to rest from his labours ; whereas, if he
buys what is called a half-improved farm, and is unable to pay
for it at the time of the purchase, the mortgage is almost sure
to ruin him at last. Now a man of means who retires to the
country is wholly unfit for a pioneer, and should never attempt
to become one j he should purchase a farm ready made to hia

THE RECALL.

re-

ob-

the

and

isted

hands, and then he has nothing to do but to cultivate and a<lorn
it. It takes two gem^rations, at least, to make such a nhu-e as
he requires. The native again is one of a class n.xl tlie most
necessary one too in the country; the people sympathise with
him, aid and encourage him. l^he emigrant-gentleman belongs
to no class, and wins no atiection ; he is kindly received and ju-
diciously advised by people of his own standing in life, but he
aftects to consider tneir counsel obtrusive and their society a
bore ; he is therefore suffered to proceed his own way, which
they all well know, as it has been so often travelled before, leads
to ruin. They pit^, but thev can't assist him. Yes, yes, your
sketch of ' Epaigwit ' is so close to nature, I shouldn't wonder
if many a man who reads it should think he sees the history of
his own place under the name of 'the Cucumber Lake.' "

CHAPTEE XXV.

THE RECALL.

In compiling this Journal, Squire, my object has been less
to give you the details of my cruise, than to furnish you with
my remarks on men and things in general. Climate, locality,
and occupation form or vary character, but man is the same sort
of critter everywhere. To know him thoroughly, he must be
studied in his various aspects. When I learned drawing, I had
an India-rubber figure, with springs in it, and I used to put it
into all sorts of attitudes. Sometimes it had its arms up, and
sometimes down, now a-kimbo, and then in a boxing posture.
I stuck out its legs or made it stand bolt upright, and put its
head every way I could think of, and so on. It taught me to
draw, and showed me the effect of light and shade. So in
sketching human character, feelings, prejudices, and motives of
action, I have considered man at one time as a politician, a
preacher, or a trader, and at another as a countryman or a
citizen, as ignorant or wise, and so on. In this way I soon
learned to take his gauge as you do a cask of spirits, and prove
his strength or weakness by the bead I could raise on him.

If I know anything of these matters, and you seem to con-
sait I do, why I won't act " Peter Funk " * to myself, but this

* At petty auctions in the States, a person is employed to bid up articles,
in order to rai'-T their price. Such a person is called a Peter Funk, probably

3.12

THE RECALL.

1 will say, " "^luninn natur is my weakness." Xow I think it
bcHt to ~ '^ A you only Hiich portions of my Journal as will in-
terest you, for a nioi •*■ diary of a cruise is a mere nothing. So I
skip over my sojourn ^'t Canzeau, and a trip the doctor and I
took to Prince Edward's Island, as containing nothing but a
sort of ship's log, and will proceed to tell you about our say-
ings and doings at that celebrated place Louisburg, in Cape
Breton, which was twice besieged find taken, first by :)ur colony-
forefathers from Boston, and then by General Wolfe, the Que-
bec hero, and of which nothing now remains but its name,
which you will find in history, and its harbour, which you will
find in the map. The French thought building a fortress was
colonization, and the English that blowing it up was the right
way to settle the country. The world is wiser now.

As we approached the place the Doctor said, " You see, Mr
Slick, the entrance to Louisburg is pointed out to voyagera
coming from the eastward, by the ruins of an old French light-
house, and the lantern of a new one, on the rocky wall of the
north shore, a few minutes after approaching which the mariner
shoots from a fretful sea into the smooth and capacious port.
The ancient ruins display even yet the most attractive object to
the eye. The outline of these neglected mounds, you observe,
is boldly marked against the sky, and induces a visit to the spot
where tlie fortress once stood. Louisbuig is everywhere covered
with a mantle of turf, and without the assistance of a native it
is not easy to discover even the foundations of the public build-
ings. Two or three casemates still remain, appearing like the
mouths of huge ovens, surmounted by a great mass of earth
and stone. These caverns, originally tho safeguards of powder
and other combustible munitions of w^ar, now serve to shelter
the flocks of sheep that graze upon the grass that conceals
them. The floors are rendered nearly impassable by the ordure
of these animals, but the vaulted ceilings are adorned by de-
pendent stalactites, like icicles in shape, but not in purity of
colour, being of a material somewhat similar to oyster shells.
The mass of stone * and brick that composed the buildings, and
which is now swept so completely from its site, has been dis-
tributed along the shore : of America, as far as Halifax and
Boston, having been successively carried away for the erections
in those places and the intermediate coast, which contains
many a chimney bearing the memorials of Louisburg. The re-
mains of the different batteries on the island and round the har-

from that name having frequently been given when things were bought in.
In short, it is now used as a "puffer." — Bartlett.
* See Haliburton's "History of Nova Scotia."

THE RECALL.

r.:i3

spot

bour are still showu by the inhabitants, as well aa of the wharves,
stockade, and sunken ships of war. On ^ainin^ the walls above
the town, they are found to consist of a ran<;e of earthen fortili-
eatioiiH with projecting angles, and extendin;^ as alrea<ly men-
tioned from the hai bour to the sea, interrupted at intervals by
large pits, said to have been produced by the efforts of the cap-
tors to blow up the walls. From these heights, the glacis
slopes away to the edge of the bog outside, foruiing a beautiful
level walk, though now only enjoyed by the sheep, being, like
the walls, carpeted by short turf. At the termination of this
line of fortification on the sea-shore, is a huge and uncouth
black rock, which appears to have been formerly quarried for
building stone, large quantities ready hewn being still scattered
round it, and gathered in masses as if prepared for that use.

" The prospect from the brow of the dilapidated ramparts
is one of tne most impressive that the place attbrds. Looking
to the south-west over the former city, the eye wanders upon
the interminable ocean, its blue rolling waves occupying three-
fourths of the scene, and beyond them, on the verge of the
horizon, a dense bank of fog sweeps along with the prevailing
S.W. wind, precluding all hopes of discerning any vista beyond
that curtain. Turning landwards towards the south-west, over
the spacious bog that lies at the foot of the walls, the sight is
met by a range of low wood in the direction of Gabarus, and
can penetrate no further. The harbour is the only prospect to
the northward, and immediately in its rear the land rises so as
to prevent any more distant view, and even the harbour appears
dwindled to a miniature of itself, being seen in the same picture
with the mighty ocean that nearly surrounds the beholder.
The character ot the whole scene is melancholy, presenting the
memorials of former life and population, contrasted with its
present apparent isolation from the natives of the earth. The
impression is not weakened by the sight of the few miserable
huts scattered along the shores of the port, and the little fish-
ing vessels, scarcely perceptible in the mountain-swell of the
ocean ; they serve but to recall painfully the images of elegant
edifices that once graced the foreground, and of proud flags that
waved upon the face of that heaving deep.

" It IS not easy to give a reason for the continued desolation
of Louisburg. A harbour opening directly upon the sea,
whence egress is unobstructed and expeditious, and return
equally convenient at all seasons ; excellent fishing grounds at
the very entrance ; space on shore for all the operations of cur-
ing the fish; every advantage for trade and the fisheries is
offered in vain. The place would appear to be shunned by tacit

331

THE RECALL.

(•oP"<ent. The Blmllopft coirsn from Arichct nnri St Prtor'n Bay
to fish at itH very month, h\it no ore wtH up his cHtahli.slinu'nt
thcro. Tho ni<Tfhant» n'fort to every ntntion in it« vicinity, to
Mnin-a-Dieii, the linis d'Or, St Anne, Inj^anish, nay, even Cape
North, ])laeeB hol(h'n^ out no advantage to compare with those
of Louishurp, yet no one ventures there. The fatality that
hangs over places of fallen celebrity seems to press heavily ou
this once vanied spot."

" ISfassa Doctor," said Sorrow, when he heard this descrip-
tion, " peers to me, dem Flnglish did gib de French goss widout
Hvveetenin', most particular jess dat are a nateral fac. By golly,
i)ut dey was strange folks botf ou 'em. Ki dey must been gwine
Htracted, sure as you bom , when dey was decomposed (angry)
wid each other, to come all de way out here to light. Lordy
graciou.i, peers to me crossin' de sea might a cooled them, sposin*
dar hair was rumpled."

" You are right, Sorrow," said I ; " and. Doctor, niggers and
women often come to a right conclusion, though they cannot
give the right r asons for it, don't they ?"

" Oh, oh, Mr Slick," said he, " pray don't class ladies and
niggers together. Oh, I thought you had more gallantry about
you than that."

" Exactly," sais T, " there is where the shoe pinches. Ton
are a so far and no further emancipationist. You will break up
the social system of the south, deprive the planter of his slave,
and sec the nigger free ; but you will not admit him to your
family circle, associate with him, or permit him to intermarry
with your daughter. Ah, Doctor, you can emancipate him,
but you can't emancipate yourself. You are willing to give
him the liberty of a dog ; he may sleep in your stable, exer-
cise himself in the coachyard, and may stand or run behind
your carriage, but he must not enter the house, for he is
offensive, nor eat at your table, for the way he devours his
food is wolfish; you unchain him, and that is all. But be-
fore the collar was unfastened he was well and regularly
fed, now he has to forage for it ; and if he can't pay for his
grub, he can and will steal it. Abolition has done great things
for him. He was once a life-labourer on a plantation in the
south, he is now a prisoner for life in a penitentiary in the
north, or an idle vagrant, and a shameless, liouseless beggar.
The fruit of cant is indeed bitter. The Yankees emancipated
their niggers because it didn't pay to keep slaves. They now
want the southern planters to liberate theirs for conscience sake.
But here we are on the beach ; let us land."

After taking a survey of the scene from the sight of the old

THE KECALL.

n35

n.xv

•i

town, wo wit down on ono of tli' rftnti-m moiinfl«, and the doc-
tor cniitituu'ti IjIh noi'ount of llir plju**'. "It took tlu? Frenrh
twi'nty-tivo ycftrH to frt-ct L<miHl>uri,'." he Raid, '• and thou(;li
not t'oriiplrtt'd ntrordiiii^ to tin' original dv'fi^^n, it oost »»«»t \v»a
than thirty millions of livrt's. It \v.i8 onviroiu'd. two mih'f4 atid
a half in circumffrtuice, with a Htone wall from thirty to thirty-
six feet hi^h, and a ditch eii;hty feet wide. Tlure wm, as mhi
will see, six bastions and eij^dit hatterie;*, with emhrasures for
148 cannon. On the island at the entrance of the harbour,
which W3 just passed, was a battery of thirt}' twenty-eiii;ht
pounders, and at the botto»n of the port another mounting
thirty-eight heavy guns. In 1715, a plan for taking it was con-
ceived by a colonial-lawyer, a Governor of Masaachusetts, ami
executed by a body of New England volunteers, led on by a
country trader. History can hardly furnish such another in-
stance of courage and conduct in an undisciplined body, laying
siege to a regular constructed fortress like this. Commodore
Warren, when first applied to for assistance, declined to afford
it, as well because he had no orders as that he thought the en-
terprise a rash one. lie was however at last instructed from
home to co-operate with the Yankee trooj)s, and arrived in sea-
son to witness the progress of the siege, and receive the whole
of the honour which was so exclusively due to the Provincials.
This act of insolence and injustice on the part of the British
was never forgotten by your countrymen, but the memory of
favours is short-lived, and a similar distribution of rewards has
lately surprised and annoyed the Canadians. The colonist who
raised the militia and saved Canada, as you have justly re-
marked elsewhere, was knighted, while he who did no more than
his duty as an officer in the army, was compensated for two or
three little affairs in which the soldiers were engaged by a coro-
net and a pension."

" Exactly," sais I, " what's sauce for the goose ought to bo
sauce for the gander ; but it seems English geese are all swans."

" Well, in 1758, it was again taken by the English, who at-
tacked it with an immense and overpowering armament, consist-
ing of 151 sail, and 14,000 men. Profiting by the experience
of the Provincials, they soon reduced the place, which it is
astonishing could have made any resistance at all against such
an overwhelming force. Still, this attack was mostly an Eng-
lish one ; and though it dwindles into utter insignificance when
compared with the previous captiu-e by the colonists, occasioned
a great outbreak of national pride. The French colours were
carried in pompous parade, escorted by detachments of horse
and foot-guards, with kectle-drums and trumpets, from the

3ao

THE RECALL.

j)alnc(> of Kt'iiHint^toii to St Pniirii Cnthodnil, wliere tlioy wero
tl(>|)(>Hit(*d an tropliicH, under n diHohar^e of cannon, and ot!u*r
iioiHV cxprt'HHionM of triunipli and exultation. lndee<i, the pub-
lic rejoicingrt for the concjiieHt of liOuiMbur^ were ditfuued through
every part of thu British (h)ininionH; and addrcHtK'Hof congnitu-
lation were prt'Hented to the kin^ by a j^^at number of tlouritth-
ing towuH and cor|)orationH."

*' Twenty-five yearn ofterward« the coloniHts, who were denied
the credit of their galhmt enterprise, nuide good their c'hiini to
it by ('on<iuering those who boasted that they were the con-
querors tlieniselves."

" 1 am glad to hear you say so, Doctor," said I, " for I con-
cur in it all. The English are liberal, but half the time they
ain't just. Spendin' money in colonies is one thing, but giviu'
them fair play is another. Tht i -niy complains that all com-
mendation and promotion is reserved for the statl*. Provincials
complain of simdar injustice, but there is this wide ditference,
the one has the * Times ' for its advocate, the other is unheard
or unheeded. An honeat statesman will not refuse to do justice
— a willy poilitician will concede w ith grace what he knows he
must soon yield to compulsion. The old Tory was a man after
all, every inch of him."

" Now," sais the doctor, " that remark reminds me of what
I have long intended to ask you if I got a chance. How is it,
Mr Slick, that you, who are a republican, whenever you speak
of England are so conservative ? It always seemed to me as if it
warn't quite natural. If I didn't know you, I should say your
books were w^ritten by a colonist who had used your name for
a medium for giving his own ideas."

" Well," sais I, " Doctor, I am glad you asked me, for I have
thought myself it wasn't unlikely some folks would fall into
that mistake. I'll tell you how tnis comes, though I wouldn't
take the trouble to enlighten others, for it kinder amuses me to
see a fellow find a mare's nest with a tee-hee's egg in it. First,
I believe that a republic is the only form of government suited
to us, or practicable in NiDrth America. A limited monarchy
could not exist in the States,, for royalty and aristocracy never
had an original root there. A military or despotic one could
be introduced, because a standing army can do anything, but it
couldn't last long. Liberty is too deeply seated, and too highly
prized, to be iuppressed for any length of time.

" Isow, 1 like a republic, but I hate a democracy. The wit
of man never could have devised anything more beautiful, better
balanced, and more skilfully checked, than our constitution is,
or rather was j but every change we make is for the worse. I

TlIK RECALL.

337

nm thort'fore a conwrvntivr nt home. On thr other hand, tho
KngliMh conHtitutinn JNequnlly wi<ll Huitcd to the Britiith. It is
aflmirnbly adupted to the ^eniuH, tniditionn, tauten, and feeling
of the |)eo|)h\ They are not fitted for a republie. They tried
it once, and it failed; and if they wert; to try it a^^^in it wouUl
not sneceed. Every change they make is alHO for tho worse.
In talking therefore as 1 do, I only act and talk consistently,
when I say I am a conservative abroad also.

" Conaervatism, both in the States and in Great Britain,
when rightly understood, has a fixed principle of action, which
is to conserve the constitution of the country, and not subvert
it. Now, liberalism everywhere is distinguished by having no
principle. In England it longs for olKce, and sacnfiees every-
thing to it. It does nothing but pander. It says religicii is a
matter of taste, leave it to itself and it will take care of itself ;
now that maxim was forced on us by necessity, for at tho Revo-
lution we scarcely had an Episcopal church, it was so small as
hardly to desenre the name. But in England it is an uncon-
stitutional, irrational, and monstrous maxim. Still it suits the
views of Romanists (although they hold no such doctrine them-
selves), for it is likely to hand over the church revenues in Ire-
land to them. It also suits Dissenters, for it will relieve them
of church rates ; and it meets the wishes of the republican party,
because they know no church and no bishop will soon lead to
no monarch. Again, it says, enlarge the franchise, so as to give
an increase of voters ; that doctriae suits all those sections also,
for it weakens both monarchy and aristocracy. Then again, it
advocates free- trade, for that weakens the landed interest, ar.'l
knocks from under nobility one of its best pillars. To lower
the influence of the church pleases all political Come-outers,
some for one, and some for another reason. Their views are
not identical, but it is for their interest to unite. One advocates
it because it destroys Protestantism as a principle of the con-
stitution, another because the materials of this fortress, like
those of Louisburg, may be useful for erecting others, and
among them conventicles.

" Then there is no truth in liberalism. When Irish eman-
cipation was discussed, it was said, Pass that and you will hear
no more grievances, it will tend to consolidate the church and
pacify the people. It was no sooner granted, than ten bishop-
ricks were suppressed, and monster meetings paraded through
and terrified the land. One cardinal came in place of ten Pro-
testant prelates, and so on. So liberalism said Pass the Reform
Bill, and all England will be satisfied ; well, though it has not
worked well for the kingdom, it has done wonders for the radi-

388

THE RECALL.

cnl party, and now another and more extensive one is promised.
The British Lion haa been fed with living raw meat, and now
roars for more victims. It ain't easy to onseat liberals, I tell
you, for they know how to pander. If you promise power to
those who have none, you must have the masses with you. I
could point you out some fellows that are sure to win the dead*
heads, the doughf boys, the numerous body that is on the fence, J
and political come-outers.§ There is at this time a postponed
Keform Bill. The proposer actually cried when it was de-
ferred to another session. It nearly broke his heart. He
couldn't bear that the public should nave it to say, ' They had
seen the elephant.' "

" Seeing the elephant," said the doctor, " was he so large a
man as that ? "

" Lord bless you," sais T, " no, he is a man that thinks he
pulls the wires, like one of Punch's small figures, but the wires
pull him and set him in motion. It is a cant term we have,
and signifies * going out for wool and coming back shorn.' Yes,
he actually shed tears, like a cook peelin' onions. He reminded
me of a poor fellow at Slickville, who had a family of twelve
small children. His wife took a day, and died one fine morning,
leaving another youngster to complete the baker's dozen, and
next week that dear little innocent died too. He took on dread-
fully about it. He boo-hooed right out, which is more than the
politicioner did over his chloroformed bill.

" ' Why,' sais I, ' Jeddediah, you ought to be more of a man
than to take on that w ay. With no means to support your
family of poor helpless little children, with no wife to look after
them, and no airthly way to pay a woman to dry-nurse and
starve the unfortunate baby, it's a mercy it did die, and was
taken out of this wicked world.'

" ' I know it and feel it, Mr Sam,' said he, lookm' up in a
way that nobody but him could look, ' but — '

" ' But what ? ' sais I.

" * Why,' says he, ' but it don't do to say so, you know.*

• Dead heads may perhaps be best explained by substituting the words " the
unproductive class of operatives," such as spend their time in ale-houses ; de-
magogues, the men who, with free tickets, travel in steam-boats, frequent the-
atres, tavern-keepers, &c.

t Pliable politicians, men who are accessible to personal influences or con-
siderations.

J A man is said to be on a fen::e who is ready to join the strongest party •
because he who sits on a fence is in a position to jump down, with equal facil
ity, on either side of it.

§ "Political come -outers" are the loose fish of all parties. Dissenters
from their own side. — See Bartlett's definitions.

THE RECALL.

330

"Ji»t then some of the neighbours came in, when he burst
out WUS8 than before, and groaned like a thousand sinners at a
camp-meetin'.

" Most likely the radical father of the strangled Reform Bill
comforted himself with the same reflection, only he thought it
wouldn't do to say so. Crocodiles can crv when they are hungry,
but when they do it's time to vamose the poke-loken,* that's a
fact. Yes, yes, they understand these things to England as
well as we do, you may depend. They wam't born yesterday.
But I won't follow it out. Liberalism is playing the devil
both with us and the British. Change is going on with
railroad haste in America, but in England, though it travels
not so fast, it never stops, and like a steam-packet that has
no freight, it daily increases its rate of speed as it advances to-
wards the end of the voyage. Now you have my explanation,
Doctor, why I am a conservative on principle, both at home and
abroad."

" AVell," said the doctor, " that is true enough as far as Eng-
land is concerned, but still I don't quite understand how it is,
as a republican, you are so much of a conservative at home, for
youi reasons appear to me to be more applicable to Britain than
to the United States."

"Why," sais I, "my good friend, liberalism is the same
thing in both countries, though its work and tactics may be
different. It is destructive but not creative. It tampers with the
checks and balances of our constitution. It flatters the people
by removing the restraints they so wisely placed on them-
selves to curb their own impetuosity. It has shaken the stability
of the judiciary by making the experiment of electing the judges.
It has abolished equity in name, but infused it so strongly in
the administration of the law, that the distinctive boundaries
are destroyed, and the will of the court is now substituted for
both. In proportion as the independence of these high officers
is diminished, their integrity may be doubted. Elected, and sub-
sequently sustained by a faction, they become its tools, and de-
cide upon party and not legal grounds. In like manner, wher-
ever the franchise w^as limited, the limit is attempted to be
removed. We are, in fact, fast merging into a mere pure demo-
cracy,! for the first blow on the point of the wedge that secures

* Poke-lokcp, a marshy place, or staj^nant pool, connected with a river.

■\ De Tocqueville, who has written incomparably the best work that has
ever appeared on the United States, makes the foUowinj:^ judicious remarks on
this subject : " Where a nation modifies the elective qualitication, it may easily
be foreseen, that sooner or later that qualification will be abolished. There is
no more invariable rule in the history of society. The further electoral rights

840

TJIE RECALL.

the franchise, weakens it so that it is sure to come out at last.
Our liberals know this as well your British Gerrymanderers do."

" Gerrymanderers," * he said, " who in the world are they ?
I never heard of them before."

"Why," sais I, "skilful politicians, who so a ranpfe the
electoral districts of a State, that in an election one party may
obtain an advantage over its opponent, even though the latter
may possess a majority of the votes in the State ; the truth is,
it would be a long story to go through, but we are corrupted by
our liberals with our own money, that's a fact. "Would you be-
lieve it now, that so long ago as six years, and that is a great
while in our history seein' we are growing at such a rate, there
were sixty thousand offices in the gift of the general govern-
ment, and patronage to the extent of more than forty million
of dollars, besides official pickings and parquisites, which are
nearly as much more in the aggregate ? Since then it has gro\\Ti
with our growth. Or would you believe that a larger sum is
assessed in the city of New York, than would cover the expenses
of the general government at Washington? Constructive mile-
age may be considered as the principle of the party, and literally
runs through everything."

" "What strange terms you have, Mr Slick," said he ; " do
pray tell me what that is."

" Snooping and stool-pidgeoning," sais I.

" Constructive mileage, snooping and stool-pidgeoning ! "
said he, and he put his hands on his ribs, and running round in
a circle, laughed until he nearly fell on the ground fairly tuck-
ered out, "what do you mean?"

" Constructive mileage," says I, " is the same allowance for
journeys supposed to be performed as for those that are actually
made, to and from the seat of government. "When a d''^ pre-

are extended, the more is felt the need of extending them ; for after each con-
cession, the strength of the democracy increases, and its demands increase ^vith
its strength. The ambition of those who are below the appointed rate is ir-
ritated, \n exact proportion of the number of those who are above it. Tho
exception at last becomes the rule, concession follows concession, and no step
can be made, short of universal suffrage."

* This term came into use in the year 1811, in Massachusetts, where, for
several years previous, the federal and democratic parties stood nearly equal.
In that year, the democratic party, having a majority in the Legislature, de-
termined so to district the State anew, that those sections which gave a large
number of federal votes might be brought into one district. The result was,
that the democratic party carried everything before them at the following elec-
tion, and filled every office in the State, although it appeared by the votes re-
turned, that nearly two -thirds of the votes were Federalists. Elridge Gerry,
a distinguished politician at that period, was tho inventor of that plan, which
was called Gerrymandering, after him. — Glossary of Americanisms.

THE RECALL.

341

re the

.f '»

Avbich

sident comes into office, Conc^ress adjourns of course on the
third of March, and his inauguration is made on the fourth ;
the senate is immediately convened to act on his nominations,
and though not a man oi them leaves Washington, each is tup-
posed to go home and return again in the course of the ten or
twelve hours that intervene between the adjournment and their
reassembling. For this ideal journey the senators are allowed
their mileages, as if the journey was actually made. In the
ca«e of those who come from a distance, the sum often amounts,
individually, to one thousand or fifteen hundred dollars."
" Why, Mr Slick," said he, " that ain't honest."
" Honest," said I, " who the plague ever said it was ? but
what can you expect from red republicans? Well, snooping
means taking things on the sly after a good rumage ; and stool-
pidgeoning means plundering under cover of law; for instance,
if a judge takes a bribe, or a fellow is seized by a constable, and
the stolen property found on him is given up, the merciful
officer seizes the goods and lets him run, and that is all that
ever is heard of it — that is stool-pidgeoning. But now," sais I,
" sposin' we take a survey of the place here, for in a general way
I don't affection politics, and as for party leaders, whether Eng-
lish reformers or American democrats, critters that are dyed
in the wool, I hate the whole caboodle of them. Now, having
donated you with my reasons for being a conservative, sposin'
you have a row yourself. What do you consider best worth
seeing here, if you can be said to see a place when it don't
exist ? for the !^nglish did sartainly deacon the calf* here, that's
a fact. They made them smell cotton, and gave them par-
tikilar Moses, and no mistake."

" Of the doings of the dead," he said, " all that is around us
has a melancholy interest ; but of the living there is a most ex-
traordinary old fellow that dwells in that white house on the
opposite side of the harbour. He can tell us all the particulars
of the two sieges, and show us the site of most of the public
buildings ; he is filled with anecdotes of all the principal actors
in the sad tragedies that have been enacted here ; but he labours
under a most singular monomania. Having told these stories
so often he now believes that he was present at the fij'st capture
of the fortress, under Colonel Pepperal and the New England
militia in 1745, and at the second in 1754, when it was taken
by Generals Amherst and Wolfe. I suppose he may be ninety
years of age ; the first event must have happened therefore nine-
teen and the other six years before he was bom ; in everything

• To deacon a calf, is to knock a thing on the head as soon as bom or
finished.

842

THE RECALL.

else his accuracy of dates and details is perfectly astonish-
ing."

" Maasa," said Sorrow, " I don't believe he is nufTiii' but a
reeblushionary suspensioner (a revolutionary pensioner), but it
peers to me dem folks do libb for ebber. My poor old missus
used to call 'em King George's hard bargains, yah, yah, yah.
But who comma dere, Massa ? " said he, pointing to a Doat that
was rapidly approaching the spot where we stood.

The steersman, who appeared to be the skipper of a vessel,
inquired for Cutler, and gave him a letter, who said as soon as
he had read it, " Slick, our cruise has come to a sudden termina-
tion. Blowhard has purchased and fitted out his whaler, and
only awaits mv return to take charge of her and proceed to the
Pacific. With his usual generosity, he has entered my name
as the owner of one half of the ship, her tackle and outfit. I
musii go on board the ' Black Hawk ' immediately, and prepare
for departing this evening."

It was agreed that he should land the doctor at Ship Har-
bour, who was anxious to see Jessie, which made him as happy
as a clam at high-water, and put me ashore at Jordan, where I
was no less in a hurry to see a fair friend whose name is of no
consequence now, for I hope to induce her to change it for one
that is far shorter, easier to write and remember, and, though
I say it that shouldn't say it, one that I cousait she needn't be
ashamed of neither.

On our way bac'c, sais the doctor to me :

" Mr Slick, will j on allow me to ask you another question ? '*

*' A hundred," sais I, " if you like."

" Well," sais he, " I have inquired of you what you think of
state affairs ; will you tell me what you think about the Church ?
I see you belong to what we call the Establishment, and what
you denominate the American Episcopal Church, which is very
nearly the same thing. What is your opinion, now, of the
Evangelical and Puseyite parties ? Which is right and which
is wrong ? "

" Well," sais I, "coming to me about theology is like going
to a goat's house for wool. It is out of my line. My views on
all subjects are practical, and not theo- etical. But first and
foremost, I must tell you, I hate all rick-names. In general,
they are all a critter knows of his own side, or the other either.
As you have asked me my opinion, though, I will give it. I
think both parties are wrong, because both go to extremes, and
therefore are to be equally avoided. Our Articles, as dear old
Minister used to say, are very wisely so worde I as to admit of
some considerable latitude of opinion ; b-vi: that very latitude

THE RECALL.

843

s i

naturally excludes anything ultra. The Puritanical section, and
the Newmanites (for Pusey, so far, is stedfast), are not, in tact,
real churchmen, and ought to leave us. One are Dissenters and
the other Komanists. The ground they severally stand on is
slippery. A false step takes one to the conventicle and the
other to the chapel. If I was an Evangelical, as an honest man,
I would quit the Establishment as Baptist Noel did, and so I
would if I were a Newmanite. It's only rats that consume the
food •iiid undermine the foundations of the house that shelters
them. A traitor within the camp is more to be dreaded than
an open enemy without. Of the two, the extreme low-church-
men are the most dangerous, for they furnish the greatest num-
ber of recruits of schism, and, strange to say, for popery too.
Search the list of those who have gone over to Kome, from
Ahab Meldrum to Wilbtiiorce, and you will find the majority
were originally Puritans or infidels — men who were restless, and
ambitious of notoriety, who had learning and talent, but wanted
common sense. They set out to astonish the world, and ended
by astonishing themselves. They went forth in pursuit of a
name, and lost the only one they were known by. Who can re-
cognise Newman in Father Ignatius, who, while searching for
truth, embraced error ? or Baptist Noel in the strolling preacher,
who uses a horse-pond instead of a font, biiptizes adults instead
of infants, and, unlike his Master, * will not suffer little children
to come unto him ? ' Ah, Doctor, there are texts neither of these
men know the meaning of, ' Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'
One of them has yet to learn that pictures, vestments, music,
processions, candlesticks, and confessionals are not religion, and
the other that it does not consist in oratory, excitement, camp-
meetings, rant, or novelties. There are many, very many, un-
obtrusive, noiseless, laborious, practical duties which clergymen
have to perform ; what a pity it is they won't occupy them-
selves in discharging them, instead of entangling themselves in
controversies on subjects not necessary to salvation ! But, alas !
the Evangelical divine, instead of combating the devil, occupies
himself in fighting his bishop, and the Newmanite, instead of
striving to save sinners, prefers to ' curse and quit ' his church.
Don't ask me therefore which is ri^ht; I tell you, they are
both wrong.**

"Exactly," sals he.

" In medio tutissimus ibis."

"Doctor," sais I, "there are five languages spoke on the
Nova Scotia coast already : English, Yankee, Gaelic, French,
and Indian ; for goodness gracious sake don't fiy off the handle

844

that

THE RECALL.

[fl-

way now and add Latin to them ! But, mj friend, as 1
have said, you have waked up the wrong passenger, if you think
I am an ecchzlzztical Bradshaw. I know my own track. It is
a broad gauge, and Ji straight line, and I never travel by an-
other, for fear of being put on a wrong one. Do you take ?
But here is the boat alongside ; " and I shook him by the hand,
and obtained his promise at parting that he and Jessie would
visit me at Slickville in the autumn.

And now. Squire, I uiust write finis to the cruise of the
" Black Hawk," and close my remarks on " Nature and Human
Nature," or, "Men and Things," for I have brought it to a
termination, though it is a hard thing to do, I assure you, for I
seem as if I couldn't say Farewell. It is a word that don't come
handy, no how I can fix it. It's like Sam's hat-band which goes
nineteen times round, and won't tie at last. I don't like to bid
good-bye to my Journal, and I don't like to bid good-bye to
you, for one is like a child and the other a brother. The first
I shall see again, when Hurst has a launch in the spring, but
shall you and I ever meet again. Squire ? that is the question,
for it is dark to me. If it ever does come to pass, there must •*
be a considerable slip of time first. "Well, what can't be cured
must be endured. So here goes. Here is the last fatal word,
I shut my eyes when I write it, for I can't bear to see it. ,
Here it is—

Ampersand.

THE XKD.

Richard Clay ds Smu, London and Jiwngay.

•^

HURST &; BLACKETT'S

STANDARD LIBRARY.

LONDON:
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, W.

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progress of opinion, and indicate a higher tone of character, and a juster estimate of
woman's position."— iKAeneum.

"This excellent book is characterised by good sense, good taste, and feeling, and i»
written in an earnest, pliilanthropic, as well as practical spirit" — Morning Po$L

BURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY

VI.— ADAM GBAEME OF MOSSOEAT.

BY MRS. OLIPIIANT.

"'Adam nrftflme' !• a iitory awakeniag genuine etnotlonn of Intereat and dellRht by Ita
admirable pictured of Scotlliih life and aconory. The plot la cleverly complicated, and
there la gr^at vitality In the dlaloKuo, and remarkable brilliancy In the deMorlptive paa<
RkKM. aa whn that baa read 'Margaret Maitland ' would Dot be prepared to expect?
Cut the Btory haa a ' mightier magnet atill,' in the healthy tone which porvadea it, In ita
feminine delicacy of thought and diction, and in the truly womanly tendemeaa of ita
B>mtlmenta. The eloquent aathor aeta before ui the eoaentlal iittributea of Chrlatiaa
virtue, their deep and Hllent workingH in tho heart, and thoir beautiful manlfeatatlona ia
the life, Willi a delicacy, a power, aud a truth which caa hardly be aurpaanod."— Aforid/i/
tott.

VII.— SAM SLICK'S WISE SAWS AND
MODERN INSTANCES.

"We have not the alighteat Intention to criticiae thia book. Its repatatlon in made, and
will atand as long as tliat of Scott's or Bulwer'a novela. The remarkable originality of
its purpose, and the happy description it affords of Amerioan life and manners, still con-
tinue the subject of uulversal admiration. To say thus much is to say enough, though wa
must just mention that the new edition forms a part of the PubliHbers' Cheap Standard
Library, which has included some of the very best specimenB of light literature that over
have been vrritU>u."—Mttscnger.

VIII.— CARDINAL WISEMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE LAST FOUR POPES.

" A picturesque book on Rume and its ecclesiastical sovereigns, by an eloqaent Roman
Catholic. Cardinal Wiseman has here treated a Hpeclai subject with so much generality
and geniality tha' his recollections will excite no Ill-feeling in those who are moat con-
BclentiouHly opposed to overy idea of human iufallibilily represented iu Papal domination."
—Atlunteum.

IX.— A LIFE FOR A LIFE.

Bt THE AUTHOR OP " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

"'A Life for a Life' Is a book of a high class. The characters are depicted with •
inasterly hand ; the events are dramatically set forth ; the descriptions of scenery and
sketches of society are admirably penned ; moreover, the work has an object — a clearly
deUued moral — most poetically, most beautifully drawn, and through all there ia that
strong, reflective mind visible which lays bare the human heart and human mind to the
very core.">-iforninsr Pott.

X.— THE OLD COURT SUBURB.

BY LEIGH HUNT.

" A book which has afforded us no slight gratlflcation."— ilfAensum.

" From the mixture of description, anecdote, biography, and criticism, this book is very
pleasant reading."— .Spectator.

" A more agreeable and entertaining book has not been published since Boswell pro*
duced his reminiscences of Johnson."— Observer.

XI.— MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS.

BY THE AUTHOR OP " THE VALLEY OP A HUNDRED FIRES,"

" We recommend all who are in search of a fascinating novel to read this work for
themselvea They will find it well worth their while. There are a freshness and origin-
ality about it quite charming, and there is a certain nobleness iu the treatment both of
•eutiiueat and incident which is not often found."— ii(/t«nieum.

HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY

XII.— THE OLD JUDGE; OB, LIFE IN A COLONY.

BY SAM SLICK.

"A piviillar intMreit atuchflfl to aketchAi of colonial llfw, anil r«»»(l*>r« conM not h»T« »
■tfer Kuitia thaa the talnntnd author of thin work, who, hy a r««*UlnncA <>( half a cnniur/,
ha* practically ((raapAd th« habltn. mannnrii, an'l social condltlun* of th« colonlati h« do-
•crlbea. All who wiah to form a (Air Idoa ot thn (lim>MiltlAfi and pl»aiinr««a of llfn In a now
coontry. anUk« EogUnd lo aoma roapecta, yet Ilka U la many, should raad thia book."—
JohnJiulL

XIII.—DABIEN; OB, THE MEBGHANT FBINGE.

BY ELIOT WARBURTON.

"This laat prodactlon of the anthor of 'TheCreacent and the rro«a' hat the aama
elemonta of a very wide popularity. It will pleane itn thouaanda." — Oliiht.

" Eliot Wartiurton'fl active and productive genius i** amply eiemplitted in tha prearnt
book. We have aeldom met with any work in which the realltlea of hiatory and the
poetry of Uctioo were more happily interwoTea"— ///lutrotcU A'ewM.

XIV.—FAMILT BOMANCE ; OB, DOMESTIC ANNALS
OF THE ABISTOCBACY.

BY SIR BERNARD BURKE, ULSTER KINO OF ARMS.

"It were imposBible lo pratne too highly this most intereating bool<, whether we ahonM
have regard to its excellent plan or Its not lens excellent execution. It ought to be found
on every drawing-room table. Here you have nearly fifty captivating romances with the
pith of all their interest preserved in undiminlHhod poignancy, and anyone may be read
in half an hour. It is not the least of their merits that the romances are founded on fact
—or what, at least, has been handed down for truth by long truditioa— and tha romanca
of reality far exceeds the romance of action." — Standard,

XV.— THE LAIBD OP NOBLAW.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

"We have had frequent opportunities of commending Messrs. Hurst and Blackett's
Standard Library. For neatness, elegance, and distinctness the volumes in thia series
surpass anything with which we are familiar. 'The Laird of Norlaw' will fully susuiu
the author's high reputation. The reader is carried on from first to last with an energy
of sympathy that never flaga" — Sunday Timet.

'"The Laird of Norlaw' is worthy of the author's reputation. It it one of the moat
exquisite of modern novels."— OAwrrer.

XVL— THE ENGLISHWOMAN IN ITALY.

BY MRS. G. GRETTON.

"Mrs. Oretton had opportunities which rarely fall to the lot of strangers of becoming
acquainted with the inner life and habits of a part of the Italian peninsula which is the
very centre of the national crisis. We can praise her performance as interesting, nnexag-
gerated, and full of opportune instruction." — The IHines.

" Mrs. Qretton's book is timely, life-like, and for every reason to be recommended. It
is impossible to close the book without liking the writer as well as the subject The work
is engaging, because real" — Athemeum.

XVIL— NOTHING NEW.

., »»

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.

"'Nothing New' displays all those superior merits which have made 'John Halifax
one of the most popular works of the day. There is a force and truthfulness about these
tales which mark them as the production of no ordinary mind, and we cordially recom
mend them to the perusal of ali lovers of Hctiou."— Morning Post.

HURST & BLACKETTS STANDARD LIBRARY

XVIIL^LIFE OF JEANNE D'ALBRET, QUEEN OF

NAVABBE.

BY MISS FREER.

*'W« h«Ta rmtd this book with irr«at plaikiure, an<t h«vA no hmilUitlon In ivcomni«ndlnK
It to Renflral peruul. It rodnctii thn hlRhnnt crfxllt on thn Induatry ami ability of Mi«H
Fraer. Nothing can b« more IntaroHtlnK than Unr itory of ths life of jMane D'Albrei,
•nd the narrative la m truatwortby aa it la attractive."— J/omina Pott.

»»

XIX.— THE VALLEY OF A HUNDBED FIRES.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS.'

"If aaked to daealfy tbia work, W4 ahoald give it a place between 'John Halifax ' and
•The Caxtona.' "— Standard.
"The Hplrlt in which tho whole book In written In rennod and good."— ^<A«n«tim.
"This la iu every lenae a cbarmlug noyeV—iltutngirr.

XX.— THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM ; OR, NARRATIVES.
SCENES, AND ANECDOTES FROM COURTS OF JUSTICE.

BY PETER BURKE, SERJEANT AT LAW.

"This attractive book will be penined with much iDtereat. It contains a great variety
of singular and highly romantic stories." — John Hull.

"A work of singular interest, which can nuvci fall to charm and absorb the reader's
attention. The prei^ent cheap and elegant edition includes the true stury of the Colleen
B»,wn."—Ifluttrated A'etet.

XXI.— ADilLE.

BY JULIA KAVANAGH.

"'Adble' is the best work wo have read by MIrr Kavanagh; It is a charming story,
fnll of delicate character-painting. The interest kindled in the first chapter bums brightly
to the close." — Athencmm.

"'Adble' will fully sustain the reputation of Miss Kavanagh, high as it already ranks."
^John Bull.

" ' Adble ' is a love-story of very considerable pathos and power. It is a Tery clever
novtl"— Daily Newt.

XXIL— STUDIES FROM LIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

"These 'Studies ' are truthful and vivid pictures of life, often earnest, always full of right
feeling, and occasionally lightened by touches of quiet, genial humour. The volume is re-
markable for thought, sound sense, shrewd observation, and kind and sympathetic feeling
for all things good and beautiful."— i/omtni/ Post.

"These 'Studies from Life' are remarkable for graphic power and observation. The
book will Dot diminish the reputation of the accomplished author."— Sa<ur</ay Review.

XXIIL— GRANDMOTHER'S MONEY.

BY F. W. ROBINSON.

"We commend 'Grandmother's Money' to readers in search of a good novel,
oharactera are true to human nature, and the story is interesting."— ^(/i«n<«um.

The

reat variety

HURST & BLACKETTS STAXDARD LIBRARY

XXIV.— A BOOK ABOUT DOCTORS.

BY JOHN COKDY JEAFFUKSON.

"A book to bo FMd and r*r«ad: flt for the itndy aa well aa the drawtnff-room ubie an<i
the otrralatinir Wynry.'—Lnm-^t.

" Tbia U a ploMMDt book for the fli«aMe •i«>aM>n, and for the neaatde Maaon. Mr Jtmttr^
aon haa, oat of hundre<lii of toIuium, rolliH*t<>i| tbou»»ii<la uf rimmI thloRa, aitdtoK themto
much that appeam In print for the rtmi tliue, and which, of course, glvea Inoreawd value
to tbla very readable book."— XtArmrum.

XXV.— NO CHUECH.

BY F. W. ROBINSON.

"We adviM all who have the op|)ortunlty to read thl* hook. It ta well worth tna
tlanr."^AIhenteiitit.
" A work of great originality, merit, and power,"— S/nndir./:

XXVI.— MISTRESS AND MAID.

»f

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.'

" A good wholeaoDie book, gracefully written, and as pIoaHant to read aa I' la Uutnio>
tlve." — Athemruin.
" A ehannlng tale, charmingly told"— StanJanL

XXVII.— LOST AND SAVED.

BY THE HON. MRS. NORTON.

" ' Loat and Saved ' will be read with eager interest by those who love a tonchtng atory ;
it la a vigorous uoveV—Timen.

'This atory is animated, full of exciting sltuationa and stirring inddentn. The charao-
tera are delineated with groat power. Above and beyond these elements of a good novel,
there ia that indeflnablo churm with which true genius inveHta all it touches."— Z>ai/y Ifeui.

XXVIII.— LES MISERABLES.

BY VICTOR HUGO.
Authorised Copyright English Translation,

•'The merita of 'Lea Miserables' do not merely constgt in the conception of it aa a
whole ; it abounds with details of unequalled beauty. M. Victor Hugo, has stamped upon
•very page the hall-mark of genius."— Quar^eWy Reviete.

XXIX.— BARBARA'S HISTORY

BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS.

"It ia not often that we light upon a novel of so much merit and interest as
*BlMlMira's History.' It is a work conspicuous for taste and literary culture. It is a very
grwsefal and charming book, with a well-managed story, clearly-cut characters, and
aeutunenta expressed with an exquisite elocution. The dialogues eBpecially sparkle with
repartee. It la a book which the world will like. This is high praise of a work of art,
and BO we intend it"— ^Ae Tiina.

XXX.— LIFE OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING.
BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

"A good book on a most interesting theme." — Tima.

" A truly interesting and most afTecting memoir. ' Irving's Life ' ongbt to have i t 'ohe
in every gallery of religiona biography. There are few Uvea that will be falif^r c f in*
atmction, interest, and consolatioa "-Sa/urc/ay Review.

•van

HUKST & BLACKETTS STANDARD LIBRARY

XXXI.— ST. OLAVE'S.

BY THE AUTHOR OF *' .TANITA'S CROSS."

"Thit novel In the work of one who noHBesuPii a great talent for writiug, an well »■
eipcrlenee and knowledge of the world. The whole book is worth reading."— if M<n<rwm.

" • St. Olave'H ' bdonjfR to a lofty order of fiction. It is a good novel, but It is nomethlog
more. It (• written with unflagging ability, and it Is as even a* ii ia clever. The author
baa determined to do nothing abort of the beat, and has aucceeded."— itfominy Post

XXXII.— SAM SLICK'S TEAITS OF AMERICAN HTIMOTIE.

" Dip where you will into this lottery of fun. you are sure to draw out a prize. These
* Traits ' exhibit most succeBafully the broad national features of American bumour."— Po«;.

XXXIIL— CHBISTIANS MISTAKE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHx\ HALJI AX, GENTLEMAN."

" A more charming story has rarely been written. It is a choice gift to be able thus to
render human nature so truly, to penetrate its depths with such a searching sagacity, and
to illuminate them with a radiance so eminently the writer's own."— Times.

XXXIV.— ALEC FORBES OF HOWGLEN.

BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D.

"Noacconntof this Btory would give any idea of the profound interest that pervades
the work from the first page to the lAsV'^Al/tenteum.

" A novel of uncommon merit Sir Walter Scott said he would advise no man to try
to read ' Clarissa Harlowe ' out loud in company if he wished to keep his character for
manly superiority to tears. We fancy a good many hardened old novel-readers will feel
a rising in the throat as they follow the fortunes of Alec and Annie."— Pall Mall Gazette.

XXXV.— AGNES.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

" 'Agnes;' Is a novel snperior to any of Mrs. Oliphant's former wOTTiK."—At}ienceum.

"Mrs. Oliphant is one of the most admirable of our novelists. In her works there
are always to be found high principle, good taste, sense, and rednemeut. ' Agnes ' is
a story whose pathetic beauty will appeal irresistibly to all readera."— J/ornin^ Pott.

XXXVI.— A NOBLE LIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF '* JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

"Few men and no women will read 'A Noble Life' without feeling themselves the
better for the etlorV— Spectator.

" A beautifully written and torching tale. It is a noble book." — Morning Post.

" ' A Noblo Life ' is remarkable for the high types of character it presents, and the
skill with which tbey are maue to work out a story of powerful and pathetic interest"
—Daily Newt.

XXXVII— NEW AMERICA.

BY W. HEPWORTH DIXON.

"A very interesting book. Mr. Dixon has written thoughtfully and well"— 7Vm«.
"We recommend everyone who feels any interest in human nature to read Mr.
Dixon's very interesting hijdk."— Saturday Review.

XXXVIII.— ROBERT FALCONER.

BY GEORGE MAO DONALD, LL.D.

•"Robert Falconer' is a work brimful of life and humour and of the deepest human
interest It is a book to be returned to again and aguin for the deep and searching
knowledge it evinces of human thoughts and feelings.' —Atfm<tum.

that pervades

HURST & BLACKETTS STANDARD LIBRARY

XXXIX.— THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM.

BY THE AUTHOR OF *' JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

•• "The Woman's Kinfcdom ' HQiiUinfi the anthor'a ropuutioo an a writer of the (i*"**!
and Dobleflt kind of donientic iitori<<)i." — .UVntriwn.

"'Tbe Womann Kingdom ' in reinArlci%bl« for itf* romantic intf^rent The charaetera art
masterpieces. Edaa is worthy of tho liuud that drew John IIttll(ax."^ironiM(^ Pott.

XL.— ANNALS OF AN EVENTFUL LIFE.

BY GEORUE WEBBE DASENT, D.C.L.

"A racy, well-written, and original novel. The interest never flags,
sparkles with wit and hvaaoar."— Quarterly Review.

Tbe whole work

XLI— DAVID ELGINBROD.

BY GEORGF MAC DONALD, LL.D.

" A novel which is the work of a man of genias.
readers." — Times.

It will attract the highest olais of

XLII.— A BRAVE LADY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

"We earnestly recommend this novel. It is a special and worthy specimen of the
author's remarkable powers. The reader's attention never for a moment hugB.' —Post

"'A Brave Lady' thoroughly rivets the unmingled sympathy of the reader, and her
history deserves to stand foremost among the author's yforiLi."— Daily Telegraph.

XLIII..-HANNAH.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

** A very pleasant, healthy story, well and artistically told. The book is sure of a wide
circle of readers. The character of Ilaunah is one of rare hea,xity."— Standard

" A powerful novel of social and domestic life. One of the most successful efforts of ft
successful novelist"— Z>ai7y News.

XLIV.— SAM SLICK'S AMERICANS AT HOME.

" This i<§ one of the most amusing books that wo ever retA."— Standard.
"'The Americans at Home' will not be less popular than any of Judge Holliborton's
previous works."— iformn^ Po*t-

XLV.— THE UNKIND WORD.

BY THE AUTHOR OP " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. '

" These stories are gems of narrativ& Indeed, some of them, in their touching grace
and simpiicity, seem to us to possess a charm even beyond the authoress's moMt popular
novels. Of none of them can this be said more emphatically tHan of that whijh opens the
series, ' The Unkind Word.' It U wonderful to see the imaginative power displayed in
the few delicate touches by whicu this iiuccessful love-story is sketched oak"— JAs JScfio.

XLVI.— A ROSE IN JUNE.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

"'A Hose in June* Is as pretty as its title. The story is one of the best and mont
touching which we owe to the industry and talent of Mrs. Oliphant, and may hold Its own
with even 'The Chronicles of Carlingford.' "— rj/ne«.

■*»"VW

HURST & BLACKETT'S STANDARD LIBRARY

XLVII.— MY LITTLE LADY.

BY E. FRANCES POYNTER.
"This Btory nresenta a nambflr of tItIcI and very charnnlng pictaren Indeed, the whole
book is charming. It is intereatlng in both character and story, and thOiOnf^hly good of
Its kind."— Saturday Review.

XLVIII.— PHCEBE, JUNIOR.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
"This last 'Chronicle of Carlingford' not merely takes rank fairly beside the first
which introduced un to * Salem Chapel,' but surpMses all the intermediate records.
Pbcebe, Junior, herself is admirably drawn." — Academy.

XLIX.— LIFE OF MAKIE ANTOINETTE.

BY PROFESSOR CHARLES DUKE YONGE.

" A work of remarkable merit and interest, which will, we doubt not, become the most
popular English history of Marie Antoinette." — Spectator.

L.^SIS GIBBIE.

BY GEORGE MAO DONALD, LL.D.

" ' Sir Gibbie' is a book of genius."— PaM ifall Oazette.
" This book has power, pathos, and hvimoviT."—Athenceum.

LI.— YOUNG MES. JARDINE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF *« JOUN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN."

•"Tonn(? Mrs. Jardine ' is a pretty story, written in pure Englip'i, - ''"w Times.

" There is much good feeling in this book. It is pleasant and vrholeaome."—Athenceum.

LII.— LORD BEACKENBUEY.

BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS.

•• A very readable story. The author has well conceived the pnrpose of high-class
novel-writing, and succeeded in no small measure in attaining it There is plenty of
variety, cheerful dialogue^ and general ' verve ' in the book."— ^< ttieruKum.

Lltl.-IT WAS A LOVEE AND HIS LASS.

BY MRS. OLIPHANT.

" In ' It waB a Lover and his Lass,' we admire Mrs. Oliphant exceedingly. It would be
worth reading a second time, were it only for the sake of one ancient Scottish spinster,
who is nearly the counterpart of the admirable Mrs. Margaret Maitland."— TYmei.

LIV.— TEF; EEAL LOED BYEON— THE STOEY OF
THE POET'S LIFE.

BY JOHN CORDY JEAFFRESON.

" Mr. Jeaffreson comes forv/ard with a narrative which must take a very important
place in Byronic literature ; and it may reasonably be aaticipated that this book will be
regarded with deep interest by all who are concerned in the works and the fame of this
(treat English poet"— 2*^^ Timet.

LV.— THEOUGH THE LONG NIGHT.

BY MRS. E. LYNN LINTON.

"It ifl scarcely necessary to sign 'Through the Long Night,' for the practised pen of
Mrs. Lynn Linton stands revealed on every page of it. It is like so many of its prede-
cesBO'-s, hard and bright, full tt entertaining reflection and brisk development of plot"—
Saturday Review.

JRARY

I. the whole
;hly good of

le the flnt
te records.

e the most

Athenceum.

t high-class
is plenty of

It woald be
sh spiaster,

les.

Z OF

y important
)ook will be
lame of this

tised pen of
of itfi prede>
It of plot."—

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF

'SAM SLICK, THE CLOCKMAKER.'

Each in One Volume^ Frontispiece^ and Uniformly Bound, Price 5«.

NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE.

"We enjoy onr old friend's company wltb nnabated relish. This work ia » raMlng
mlaoellany of sharp sayings, stories, and hard ' m. It is fall of fan and fancy."— iKAeikmm.

" Since Sam's first woric be has written nothing so f renh, racy, and genuinely hnmoroos as
thlsL Ereiy line of it tells in kome way or other— instractlvely, satirically. Jocosely, or
wittily. Admiration of Sam's matare talents, and laughter at bis droll yams, cosatanrly
alternate as with nnhalting avidity we peruse the work. The Clockmaker proven himse.T
the fastest time-ldller a-going."— O&terrcr.

WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES.

"This delightful book will be the most popular, as beyond donbt it is the best, of all the
author's admirable worka" — Standard.

"The book before us will be read and laughed over. Its quaint and racy dialect will
please some readers — its abundance of yams will amuse others. There is something to
■nit readers of every humour."— ^KAmorum.

"The humour of Sam Slick ia inezhanstibla He is ever and everywhere a welcome
visitor ; smiles greet his approach, and wit and wisdom hang upon his tongue. We pro-
mise our readers a great treat from the periisal of these * Wise Saws,' which contam a
world of practical wisdom, and a treasury of the richest fun."— ifonwv Po$L

THE OLD JUDGE ; OR, LIFE IN A COLONY.

M By common consent this woik is regarded as one of the raciest, truest to life, most
bmnorons, and most interesting works which have proceeded from the prolific pen of its
author. We all know what shrewdness of observation, what power of graphic doscrip-
tton, what natural resources of drollery, and what a happy method of hitting off the
broader characteristics of the life he reviews, belong j Judge Haliburton. We have all
those qualitieo here ; but they are balanced by a serious literary purpose, and are employed
*n the communication of information respecting certain phases of colonial experience
which impart to the work an element of sober utility."— iSuncfay l^nui.

TRAITS OF AMERICAN HUMOUR.

" Mo man has done more than the facetious Judge Haliburton, through the month of the
inimitable ' Sam,' to make the old parent country recognise and appreciate her queer
transatlantic progeny. His present collection of comic stories and laughable traits is a
budget of fun, full of rich specimens of American hmaour."— Globe.

" Yankeeism, portrayed in its raciest aspect, constitutes the contents of these superla-
tively entertaining sketches. The work embraces the moRt varied topics — political parties,
religious eooentricities, the flights of literature, and the absurdities of pretenders to learn-
ing, all come in for their share of satire ; while we have specimens of genuine American
exaggerations and graphic pictures of social and domestic life aa it ik The work will
have • wide drcnlatioa"— /oAm Bull.

THE AMERICANS AT HOME.

"lo this highly entertaining work we are treated to another cargo of capital storlee
from the ine^anstible store of car x ansee filend. In the volume before us he dishes up,
with his aooostomed humour and terseness of style, a vast number of tales, none more
entertaining than another, and all of them graphically illustrative of the ways and mao-
nara of brouer Jonathaa The anomalies of American law, the extraordinary adventures
inddent to life in the backwoods, and, above all, the peculiarities of American society, are
varionsly, powerfully, and, foi- the nioHt part, 8.musingly exemplified." — John Bull

" In the picturesque delineation of character, and the felicitous portraiture of national
features, no writer equals Judge Haliburton, and the subjects embraced in the present
delightful book call forth, in new and vigorous exercise, his peculiar powers. 'Tha
▲marioMta at Home ' wHl not be less popular than any of bis previous works."— i'eit

LONDON : HUBST AND BLAOKETT, LIMITED.

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF

JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.

Each in One Volume^ Frontispiece^ and Uniformly BoundL, prici 5<.

JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.

" Tbti to » Tery good and a very Interesting work. It Is designed to tnto* tL« Mfwr
from boyhood to »gn of » perfect man— a Cbnstian gentleman, and It abounds In lactdent
both well and highly wrought Thronghont it is conceived in a high spirit, and written
with great ability. This cheap and handso.ne new edition in worthy to pasa fraaly from
hand to hand as a gift-book In many honseho'da"— £ mmAMr.

" The story is very interesting The attach? lent between John Halifax and hto wifa to
baantifnlly painted, as are the pictures of their domestic life, and the growing ap of thair
children, and the conclusion of the book is beautiful and touching."— ilMMdimi.

"The new and cheaper edition of this interesting work will doubtless meet with grMt
■access. John Halifax, the hero of this moat beautiful story, to no ordinary here;, tmd thto
hto history is no ordibaty book. It is a full-length portrait of a true gentlentk.'! one of
nature's own nobility. It to also the history of a home, and a thoroughly English one^
The work abounds in incident, and is full of graphic power and true pathoa, It to a took
that few will read witbont becoming wiser and better. —iSMttmaa.

A WOMAN'S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOME^?

" A book of sound counsel It is one of tUn moat sensible works of its kind, v,'W.i «?r^tt»a,
true-hearted, and altogether practical Whc/over wishes to giv(< adTioe In a irc>c\,^, la«ly
ma, thank the author for means of doing bo."— J^xamtncr.

" These thonghto are worthy of the earnest and enlightened mind, 'ho all-e^bi aoing
oharity, and the well-oamed reputation of the author o: 'John Hailtax.' "~^i. ndorA

" Thto excellent book is characterised by good sense, good taste, a;u/l :«,; 'i^,
written in au emtest, philanthropic, as well as practical spirii"— PMt

A LIFE FOR A LIFE.

** Wa are always glad to welcome this author. She writes ttom h»t own ooBTlotlona,
and she has the power not only to .-^inreive clearly what it '<■> that she wtoViOs to aay. bat
to express it in language effective ua<^ f 1 .;orons. In ' A Life for a Tjife ' ahe to fortttn» (•
In a good subject, and she has produced a worit >:f etrong effect The reader, having rcJMi
the book through for the story, will be apt: t|T u^ b of our pa^i^naiiiioa) to ratam ud raul
again many pages and passagrr- «<rith grctxtK pl&Au t than > n (. first perusa'.. The whom
book to replete with a graoefal, under a.t^?.%f.y -a i, in addition to iti cthar mirita, It ta
written in good carofol Kngllihi "—AOitnanuH.

NOTHING NEW.

'*' Nothing New 'dtoplays all those superior merits which have made ' Joba Haliftui '
one of the most popalar works of the day."— Pot(.

"The reader will find these narratives calculated to remind him i>f that troth and
energy of human portraiture, that spell over human affections and emotioni, whioh have
stamped thto author aa one of the first novelists of our day."-VoAii BM,

THE WOMAN'S KINGDOM.

•••The Woman's Kfangdom' sustains the author's reputation aa a writer of fha purest
and noblest kind of domestio stories. The noveltot's lesson to given with admirabia foree
?«id sweetness."— ^MsMEimi.

" ' The Woman's Kingdom ' to remarkable for Its romantic interest The oharaotora
are ma.:t.<.rpieoMi Edna to worthy of the hand that drew John Halifax."— Poit

8 rUDIES FROM LIFE.

" Th'-se Btni'Ies are truthful and vivid pictures of lif 3, often earnest, always fall of rt«ht
fto'lng, and oiioasloDc^'y lightened by touches of quiet genial humour. The volume is ra>
^.r^at kable for thought, sound sense, shrewd observation, and kind and sympathttio faaimg
M; «lt 'li'ogs sood and "Mantl^aL"— i\Mi

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WORKS PY THE AUTHOR OF

JOHN HALIFAX, GEiNTLFlAN.

(OOSTIKUW).)

CHRISTIAN'S MISTAKE. *

- k mora ehftnntaic 11017, to oor tMte, haa rarely been writtea Within the eotnpaM
•f a dnKlo Tolomo tho writor baa bit otf a circle of Taried cbaracteri, all true to natur»—
■one true to the hlf beet nature — and abe baa eut&nKle<l tbem in a itory wbleb keeps us
in euapwiaa till the knot Is bappUy lod gracefally reaoUed; wbll^ at tbe same time, a
pAtheue Intareet Is sustained by an art of wbicb It would be dUBcnlt to analyse tbe seeret.
It Is a eholee gift to be able thus to render human nature so truly, to penetrate its depths
wUb snch a ssarrhlni sacadty, and to Illuminate them with a radiance so eminently the
wrttar'e own. Kren u tried by the standard of tbe Archbishop of York, we should expect
that eren ho woold pronconoe 'Christian's Mistake * a lotcI without a fault"— rA« ISmt.

' This Is a story icood to have from the drcnlatlug library, but better to hare from one's
bookseller, for It deeerree a place In that little collection of clever aad wholesome stories
wbloh forms ons of the oomiorts of a well-appointed home."— £xam(/Mr.

MISTRESS AND MAID.

" A food, wholesome book, as pleasant to read as i* f» instruotlva**— iltAtiMrwn.
"This book Is written with the aaiue tnie-hnarted c^mestuens as ' John Halifax-'
■plrlt of the whole work la OTceWeat."— Examiner.
"A etaarmlng tale obarmiugly to\d."~StaiuiarJ.

Thd

A NOBLE LIFE.

■*Thls Is one of those pleasant tales lu which the author of 'John Hallfsx ' Bp«ak8 or»
of acenerous heart the purest truths of life.' — Examiner.

-' Few men, and no women, will read 'A Noble Life 'without Oading tbemb-^ives the
better."— Sjwi^or.

"A story of powerful and pathetic Interest"— Dai/y Netat.

A BRAVE LADY.

"Avery good novel, showing a teuder sympathy with human nature, and pet-r.>«at«4
by a pure and noble spirit"— fxamin^i*.

*' A most charming »tOTy."~StandarcL

"We earnestly recommend thia noveL It Is a special and worthy sDeclm'^i:; cf (he-
author's ramarkablt powera. The reader's attention never for a momeut Haga "-. -I'l i.

HANNAH.

" A powerful novel of social and domestic Ufa One of the most snccessf a! etfo: ta of ai
suooessfui novelist"— Z)at/y Nmet.

'Avery pleasant, healthy Btory, well and artistically
iiroto of ret-vilers. The ohantAter of Hannah is one of ra

. The booU is sure of a wide
jauty." — JitaadarJ.

THE UNKIND TV oRD.

•• The author of 'John Halifax ' has wdtten many f nating stories, buk wc can call to-
mind nothing from her pen that has a more euduring uarm than tbe graceful sketctieH in
this work. Such a character as Jessie stands out from a crowd of heroines as the tyuo of
ad that Is truly noble, pore^ and womanly. "—{Tnitoi' r-'ic«Mag<uiiu.

YOUNG MRS. JaKDINE.

-•Young Mrs. Jardlne ' Is a pretty story, written In pure Engliah."—Tht Tima.

" There is much good feeling in this book. It is pleasant and wholeeoma •—Ather'aum.

"A book that all should read. WhUst it is quite tiia equal of any of its predecessors
In elevaUon of thought and style, it is perhaps their superior in Interest of plot »n.«
dramatic intensity. The oharaoters are admirably delineated, and the dialogue is natui,ai
and olear."— JTornuV iViit, . -. • «wiu..».iHf

Of rtcht
ae Is ra-
ifMiiag

LONDON : HUEST AND BLA' KETT, LIMITED.

WORKS BY

MRS. OLIFHANT.

Each in On$ Volume, Frontispiece^ and Uniformly Bounds Price be.

ADAM GRAEME OF MOSSGRAY.

" ' Adam Oraam* ' !■ % ■tory awakening sennlna emotions of Interact and deHcht by Mi
admirable plotareeof SoottUh life and aoenery. The plot ii cleverly eomplloated, and
there ia freat Titaltty In the dialogae, and remarkable brilliancy la the deeeriptlTe paa^
•aKea, aa who that haa read ' Margaret Mailand ' would not be prepared to eipMtr
Hut the Btory haa a * mlcbtier magnet adll,' in the healthy tone whlon perradea It, la Ita
reminina delicacy of thonght and diction, and In the tmly womanly tenderaeaa of lu
Beoumenta. The eloquent author aeta before na the easenttal attribataa of Ohrlatiaa
virtue, their deep and allent worklnga ia the heart, aad their beantifnl maalfeatatioaa la
the life, with a deUoacy, a power, aad a tratb whibh oaa hardly be aorpaaaed,"— Jfem^Nf
PoiL

THE LAIRD OF NORLAW.

"We have had frequent opportnnitiea of commending Hesara. Hurat aad Blaekett'a
Standard Library. For neatneis, elegance, and diatlnctaeaa the Tolumea ia thia aeriea
■urpaaa anything with which we are (amilitr. ' The Laird of Norlaw ' will fally anetain
the author'a high reputation. The reader la carried on from flrat to laat with aa eaergy
of sympathy that never floga"— Sunday Timtt.

" ' The Laird of Norlaw ' ia worthy of the author'a reputation. It ia on* oC tha moat
azqulaite of modem novela."— ObMnw.

IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS.

"In 'It waa a Lover and hia Lass,' we admire Mrs. Oliphant exceedingly. Her atory la
a very protty one. It would be worth reading a second time, were it only for the sate of
one and' :ti Scottish spinster, who ia nearly t^' oonnterpart of tha admirable Mra Mar-
garet Maitlanc^ "—Timu.

AGNES.

** * Agnee* la a novel anperior to any of Mrs. Oliphant'a former work&"— /«^«Nt!>MNi
"Mra Oliphant is one of 'he most admirable of our novelists. In her vir>->^ka tLere are
always to be found high pr aciple, good taste, aense, and reflnement * A|{i).«a* in a iitory
whose pathetic bea t-.f wiil ttppeal irresistibly to all readera"— ifonUiv Poti.

A ROSE IN JUNE.

'**A Boae to Jane' la aa pretty as ita title. The atoiyia one of the beat and most
touching which vo owe to the industry and talent of Mra. Oliphaa^ and may bold ita own
with even * The Ohronidea of OarllngfonL' "— ZVmsa

PHOEBE, JUNIOR.

"ThIa laat 'Chronicle of Oarllngford' not merely tnkea rank fairly beaide the fl'vt
which introduced ua to * Salem C'bapel,' but surpassea all the intermediate raoorUs
Piioebe, Jimior, herself is admirably drawn."— itoodsmy.

LIFE OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING.

"A good book on a most interesting theme."— TH'met.

"A truly interesting aud most affecting memoir. 'Irvine's Life' ought to have a nieb*
in every gallery of religious biography. Theie are few lives that will be fuilei' of !»'
ktruotion, interest, and oonsolatioa" — Saturday JUvitm,

LONDON : HURST AND TjLACKETT, LIMITED.

ce &«.

WO&£g BY

GEORaE 3IAC DONALD, LLD.

Each in One Volume^ Frontispiece^ and Uniformly Bound, Prict 5«

•d, and

npwtr

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ALEC FORBES OF HOWGLEN.

■• No ftoeonnt of this 11017 woald glre any IdM of tbo profound IntarMi tb*t porridM
tb* work from the flnit page to the \iMX."—AUttnmi0m.

•' A DOTol of nacommon merit Sir Walter Scott Mid be woold adviM no maa to try
to read *Clariiraa Harlowe' oat load in company if he wished to keep hie character fot
manly anperiority to teara. We fancy a good many hardeued old noveUresdera will foal
a riaing in the throat aa they follow the fortonea of Aleo and Annie."— i'oU Mali thttu.

"The whole atory ia one of aurpaasing excellence and beauty."— />atf« Nmtt.

" Thia book ia fall of good thought and good writing. Dr. Mac Donald looka In hla ■loriee
more to the loala of men and women than to their aooial ontaidc Ha reads life and
Natort Ilka a true pott"— Examintr.

ROBERT FALCONER.

"'Robert Falconer' ia a work brimfal of life and hnmoor and of tha daapaat hamaa
Intereat It ia a work to be returned ta again and again for the deep and aaarohlnc
knowledge it OTincea of human thoughta and feelinga"— ^M«mm<ni

" Thia atory aboacda in exquisite apecimena of the word-painting In which Dr Mao
Donald ezoela, charming tranacripu of Nature, fall of light, air, and oolotur."— AKwitaf
BtHev.

" This noble siory dliplaya to the beat adrantags aU the powers of Dr. Mao Donald's
geniua"— /I/us(ral<d London Ntwt.

"■Robert Falconer ' is the uobleat work of fiction that Dr. Mao Donald has yet pro-
duced." — Britith Quarterly Review.

" The dialoKues iu ' Robert Falconer ' are ao finely blended with hnmoor and pathoa aa
to make tbem in themieUea an Intellectual tr«iu!,t to which the reader ratoma again and
again."— «SjMe<<rior.

DAVID ELGINBROD.

" A novel which li tha work of a man of genioa It will attract tho highest elass of
readers." — Times.

" There are many beaatifal paaaages and descriptions In this book. The charaotars ara
axtremely well drawn." — Athencnun.

"A clever uoveL The Incidents are exciting, and tha interest la maintained to the
elosa It may be donbtod If Sir Walter Scott himaelf ever painted a Sootoh flrealda with
more truth than Dr. Mao Donald."— i^omin^ /Vwt

" David Elginbrod la the finest character we have met in fiction for many a day. The
deacriptions of natural acenery are viyid, truthful, and arttatio; the general refieotiona ara
those of a refined, thoughtful and poetical philosopher, and tiM whole moral atmoapbaro
of the book is lofty, pora^ and invigorating."— Oiote.

SIR GIBBIE.

•• • Sir Gibbla ' is a book of geniua"— Poif 3fM (kuette.

"This book has power, patboA, and humoar. There is not a oharaeter Which la not
Itfelika There ara many powerful scenes, and the portralta will stay long In oar
memory. "~il(A<n<n«n,

" ' Sir Oibbie ' ia urqueitionably a book of geniua It abounds in homonr, pathos,
Insight Into character, and happy touchee of description."- (7rap/kK.

'"Sir Qibbie ' contains some of the most charming writing tha anthor haa yat pro-
dnced. "— <8eotentaa.

" ' Sir Qibbie ' is one of the most touching and beautifnl stories that has been written
for many years. It is not a novel to be idly read and laid aside ; it la a grand work, to oe
kept near at hand, and studied and thought over."— i/omtntr Post

LONDON: HURST AND BLACKKTT, LIMITED.

EDNA LYALUS NOVELS

KACH IN ONE VOLUME CROWN Sto, Ol.

DONOVAN:

A MODERN ENGLISHMAN.

"Thta i» • Ttry admirable work. The reader Is from tbe flrat carried away by the
fallaat nneonTentionallty of ita author. * Donovan ' la a very excellent novel ; but it ie
•omathlog more and better. It ibould do aa much good as the beat aermon ever written
or delivered extempore. The atory is told with a grand aimpliclty, an unconacloua poetry
of eioqoence which stira the very deptha of tbe hoart. One of the main excellenciea of
this novel Is the delicacy of toach with which tbe author ahows her moat delightfol char-
•ot«n to be dtter »U human beings, and not angeia before their time."— Standard.

TVE TAVO.

" A work of deep thought and much power. Serious aa It is, It is now and then brigtat-
wed by rays of genuine humour. Altogether this story is more and better than a novel."
—Morning Pott.

" There is artistic realism both in tbe conception and tbe delineation of the personages;
the action and haterest are unflaggingly auatained from flrat to last, and tbe book is per>
Taded by an atmosphere of elevated, earnest thought" — Scuttman.

TN THE aOLDEN DAYS.

'HiM Lyall has given ns a vigorous study of such life and character as are really worth
reatMng about The -antral figure of her story is Algernon Sydney; and this figure she
invuts with a slngu'ar dignity and power. He always appears with effect, but no liber-
ties are taken with the facta of his Ufa The plot is adapted with great felicity to them.
His part in it absolutely consistent as it is with historical truth, gives it reality as well as
dignity. Some cf the scenes are remarkably vivid. The escape is an admirable narra-
tli w which almost makes one hold one's breath as one ntkAa." —Spectator,

TCNIGHT-ERRANT.

"'Knight-E'Tant' Is marked by the author's best qualities as a writer of fiction, and
displays on ever-y page the grace and quiet powor of her former ^otkt."— Athmawn.

"Tbe plot arid, indeed, the whole story, is gracefully fresh and very charming; there
is a wide humanity in the book that cannot fail to aocompUah its author's purpose."—
JAierwry World.

" This novel is distinotly helpful and inspiring from its high tone, ita Intense human
feeling, and its elevated morality. It forms an additional proof, if sndi were needed,
that Mias Lyall baa » mandate to write."— ^Icodemy.

'WON BY "WAITING.

*' Tbe Dean's danghters are perfectly real cbrractera — the learned Oonelia especially;
'the little impnlsive French heroine, who endures their cold hospitality and at last wins
their affection, is thoroughly charming; while throughout the book there ruaa a golden
tbread of pure brotherly and sisterly love, which pleasantly reminds us that Uie making
and marring of marriage is not, after all, the sum total of real iite,"--Aeademif.

LONDON : HUEST AND BLAOKBTT, LIMITED.

ELS

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