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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de rMi"'tion diff6rents. Lorsque Ie document est trop grand pour dtre reprodult en un seui ciich6, il est fiim6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent ia methods. i errata )d to nt ie pelure, pon it n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 . :^'^^rw'r"ft:'7.Tf}^:^TT'>^^'"''Ty^-V- \ 1 f\ ^fc^.'V' SAIM "' SAM THE ATTACH^; OBi SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. BY THK AUTHOR OF 'J «. BAM SLICK THK CLOCKMAKER, "NATURE AND HUMAH NATURE, " u SAM SLICK IN SEAKCn OP A WIFE, "tue old judge," etc. ](iit quod prudent! vitam consilio monot. \ t Wt.' -^ Duplex libelli dos est ; quod ruum movotJ ' ^\RECV> ^ cA.. NEW BEYISED EDITION, NEW YOEK: DICK AND FITZGERALD NO. 18 ANN street I CONTENTS. CHAPTER L tfVCOXKIKO ▲ 60TTLK CHAPTER II. A JUIOT D»T IH THB COCMTaT . CHAPTER ni. TTISei A KIOHT-CAP . CHAPTER IV. Bom AND THB SEA . . . CHAPTER V. T*OTHIB BEND Of THB ODX . . CHAPTER VI. •MAXX POTATOES AND PBW DI A HttL CHAPTER VII. A OBMTUICAN AT LAKOB . CHAPTER VIII. ■BXINO UTBEPOOI CHAPTER IX. MANQUra A VAMB . • » « V • » • • • * • 11 15 86 30 U 40 41 47 . 65 1 Vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. THE irSLSOIf MONUBfSirr . CHAPTER XI. COTTAOKS ..... CHAPTER XII. *' STIALINO THE HEARTS OT THI PEOPLE" CHAPTER XIII. NATOa* TBI 800DOLAOIR VVnSQ OUT . THE MOflE or A SPY CHAPTER XIV. CHAPTER XV- CHAPTER XVI. CHAPTER XVII. HE PATBOM ; OE, THE COW's TAIL . . . CHAPTER XVIII. iSCOT &ACES ',.,,, CHAPTER XIX. T0X OANOE& PDLUNO .... CHAPTER XX. THE BLACK STOLE ..... CHAPTER XXI. THE FEINCE D£ JOIMVILLE's HORSE . CHAPTER XXII. Ura W TBI COUNTRT . . . • . 60 . 63 76 83 87 8t 99 . 105 109 112 119 125 181 l/f'f wmfi TWO >4IM A SW fATTl XAOEI CKOSS ^ >• nv ,/^ B vn B <-' IHE £ mc Q( I rs )3 87 99 .05 09 .12 119 125 181 ^ CONTENTS. Hi CHAPTER XXIII. POKKUM ........ Ul CHAPTER XXIV. TBBOWINO THS LATXNDia ....*. 147 CHAPTER XXV. ^AIMINO HIGH*' ....... 161 CHAPTER XXVI. ^ A tWOI-BSB ........ 157 CHAPTER XXVII. tATTKBSALL's ; 0X| THE XLDEB AND THX ORAVB DIGOW . « IM CHAPTER XXVIII. XAQEINO BACK ........ 175 CHAPTER XXIX. eWOSSINO THE BQBDEB. . . . . ...,...» - . IflS , ^ *>^ CHAPTER XXX. nm OLU AND TUB NEW WOBLD. ...... 188 CHAPTER XXXT. ,^BB BOABDINO SCHOOU . . . . . , 196 CHAPTER XXXIL KKB BXVOLUTIONABY HXBO ...... 801 CHAPTER XXXIIL nu( SYB . ... . . . 805 CHAPTER XXXIV. WW Qu«mf 811 CHAPTER XXXV. ; jmU. TAU ... tl6 M /'•' 'I i ▼m CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXVI. warn BAIT .....;• 819 CHAPTER XXXVII. tax CUXLINO WAVB AUD THE OLD OAK TRIE .... 881 CHAPTER XXXVIII. WATIONAL CnARACTIK ...... 885 CHAPTER XXXIX. TBI PVLrXT AND THE PKEtS ...... 880 CHAPTER XL. WATXBLOO AND BCMKBk-RILL ...... 884 CHAPTER XU. ■OOkB AND BTB*. — FABT X. ...... 841 CHAPTER XLH. BOOKS AND BYES. — PAST II. . . . . . 846 CHAPTER XLIII. BBSPONSIBLB 60TBRNMENT. — PART I. .... . 849 CHAPTER XLIV. •BSPONt'BLB OOTBBNMBNT — PART IL . . . 854 CHAPTER XLV. WB DUKB or KENT AND HIS TRVMPXTEB ..... 859 CHAPTER XLVI. tBPXAL ......... 864 CHAPTER XLVII. ffHC HOBSB STEALER, OR ALL TRADES HATB TBICKS BOT OUB OWN . 867 CHAPTER XLVIII. / vas PLBABvaiB or hops t78 00^TSNT8. CHAPTER XUX. 9M*T Ii . 343 CHAPTER LXIV. BinRIMRN/AL l>HtLO«OPnT . . . . . 848 , CHAPTER LXV. nETiNo roExi ...... .868 SJ •CHAPTER LXVI. ULBOlOy IT ABTIIIt .... t m w ande Our 1 I 1 tut ion obscu (liflen ing so authoi much possib evoiy will 11 , 1 Ml n\ 843 848 8M THE ATTACHE; SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. m CHAPTER I. UNCORKING A BOTTLE. * We left New York in the afternoon of day of May, 184 — , and embarked on board of the good i)acket-ship 'Tyler,' for England. Our party consisted of the -Reverend Mr. Hopewell, Samuel Slick, Esq., myself, and Jiibe Japan, a black servant of the Attache. 1 love brevity — I am a man of few words, and, therelbre, consti- tutionally economical of them ; but brevity is apt to degenerate into obscurity. Writing a book, however, and book-making, are two very different things. " Spinning a yarn " is meclumical, and book-mak- ing savors of trade, and is tlie employment of a manufacturer. Tho author by profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is much competition in this branch of trade, extends it over the greatest possible surface, so as to make the most of his raw material. Hence every work of fancy is made to reach to three volumes, otherwise it will not pay, and a manufacture that does not requite the cost of production, invariably and inevitably terminates in bankruptcy. A thought, therefore, like a pound of cotton, must be well spun out to be valuable. It is very contemptuous to say of a man, that he has but one idea, but it is the highest meed of praise that can be bestow- ed on a book. A man, who writes thus, can write for ever. Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever, or as Mr. Slick would fay, " for everlastinly ;" but to make my bow and retire very soon from the press altogether. I might assign many reason.^ for this modest course, all of them plausible, and spme of them, indeed, quite dignified. I like dignity : any man who has lived thf !l i '1 ■■■} 1: i'l I' ii' 12 THE ATTACHt; OR, greater part of his life in a colony is so accustomed to it, that he becomes quite enamored of it, and, wrapping himself up in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the " observed of all observers." I could un- dervalue this species of writing if I thought proper, affect a con- tem[)t for idiomatic humor, or hint at tha employment being incon- sistent with the grave discharge of important olficiul duties, which are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave me a moment for recrea- tion ; but these airs, though dignified, will unfortunately not avail me. I shall put my dignity into my pocket, therefore, and disclose the real cause of this diffidence. In the year one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, I embarked at Halifax, on board th( '' iflFulo,* store-ship, for England. She was a noble teak-built ship of twelve or thirteen hundred tons burden, had excellent accommodation, and carried over to merry Old England, a very merry party of passengers, quonun parva pars ful, a youngster just emerged from college. On the banks of Newfoundland, we were becalmed, and the pas- sengers amused themselves by throwing overboard a bottle, and shooting at it with ball. The guns used for this occasion, were the King's muskets, taken from the arm-chest on the quarter-deck. The shooting wa* execrable. It was hard to say which were worse marksmen, the officers of the ship, or the passengers. Not a bottle was hit. Many reasons were offered for this fiiilure, but the two principal ones were, that the muskets were bad, and that it required great skill to overcome the difficulty occasioned by both the vessel and the bottle being in motion at the same time, and that motion dissimilar. I lost my patience. I had never practised shooting with ball ; I had frightened a few snipe, and wounded a few partridges, but that was the extent of my experience. I knew, however, that I could not, by any possibility, shoot worse than everybody else had done, and might, by accident, shoot better. " Give me a gun. Captain," said I, " and I will show you how to uncork that bottle." I took the musket, but its weight was beyond my strength of arm. I was afraid that I could not hold it out steadily, even for a moment^ It was so very heavy — I threw it up with a desperate effort, and fired. The neck of the bottle flew into the air a full yard, and then disappeared. I was amazed myself at my success. Everybody was surprised, but as everybody attributed it to long practice, they were not so much astonished as I was, who knew it was wholly owing to chance. Jt Wi^s a lucky hit, and I made the most of it ;^ success made me arrogant, apd, boy-like, I became a boaster. *' Ah," said I, coolly, " you must be born with a rifle in your hand, Captain, to shoot well. Everybody shoots well in America. 1 do not jcall myself a good shot. I have not had the requisitt ex* trying SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 13 perience ; but there are those who can take out the eye of a squirrel at a iiundred yards." " Can you see the eye of a squirrel at that distance ? " said the Captai'j, with a knowing wink of his own little ferret eye. That question, which raised a general laugh at my expense, was a puzzler. The absurdity of the story, which I had heard a thou- sand times, never struck me so forcibly. But I was not to be put down i«o easily. " See it !" said I, " why not ? Try it, and you will find your sight 1 n improve with your shooting. Now, I can't boast of being a good marksman myself: my studies" (and here I looked big, for I doubt- ed if he could even read, much less construe a chapter in the Greek Testament) "did not leave me much time. A squirrel is too small an object for all but an experienced man, but a large mark like a quart bottle can easily be hit at a hundred yards — that is nothing." " I will take you a bet," said he, " of a doubloon, you do not do it again." " Thank you," I replied, with great indifference : " I never bet, and, besides, that gun has so injured my shoulder, that I could not, if I would." By that accidental shot, I obtained a great name as a marksman, and, by prudence, I retained it all the voyage. This is precisely my case now, gentle reader. I made an accidental hit with the Clockmaker : when he ceases to speak, I shall cease to write. The little reputation I then acquired, I do not intend to jeopardize by trying too many experiments. I know that it was chance — many people think it was skill. If they choose to think so, the)* have a right to their opinion, and that opinion is fame. I value this repu tation too highly not to take care of it. As I do not intend, then, to write often, I shall not wiredraw my subjects, for the mere purpose of filling my pages. Still a book should be perfect within itself, and intelligible witliout reference to other books. Authors are vain people, and vanity as well as dignity is indigenous to a colony. Like a pastry-cook's apprentice, I see so much of both the sweet things around me daily, that I have no ap- petite for either of them; I might, perhaps, be pardoned, if I took it for granted, that the dramatis persona3 of this work were sufficiently known, not to require 'a4)articular introduction. Dickens assumed the fact that his book on America would travel wherever the English language was spoken, and, therefore, ciilled it " Notes for General Cu'culation." Even Colonists say, that this was too bad, and if they say so, it must be so. 1 shall, therefore, briefly state, who and wliut the persons are that composed our travelling party, as if they were wiiolly uu- knowii to fame, and then leave them to speak for themselves. The Reverend Mi*. Hopewell is a very aged clergyman of the 14 THE ATTACH^; OR, I! ,j ?!:'::; » Church of England, and was educated al Cambridge College, in IMussachusctts. Previously to the revolution, he was appointed rector of a small parish in Connecticut. When the colonies obtained their independence, he remained with his little flock in his native land, and continued to minister to their spiritual wants until within a few ye.ars, when his parishioners becoming Unitarians, gave him his dismissal. Affable in his manners, and simple in his habits, with a mind well stored with human lore, and a iieart full of kindness for his fellow-creatures, he was at onc(; an agreeable and an instruc- tive companion. Born and educated in the United States, when they were British dependencies, and possessed of a thorough know- ledge of the causes which led to the rebellion, and the means used to hasten the crisis, he was at home on all colonial topics ; while his great experience of both monarchicjil and democratical governments, derived from a long residence in both, made him a most valuable authority on politics generally. Mr. Samuel Slick is a native of the same parish, and received his education from Mr. Hopewell. I first became acquainted with him while travelling in Nova Scotia. He was then a manufacturer and vendor of wooden clocks. My first impression of him was by no means favorable. He forced himself most unceremoniously into my company and conversation. I was disposed to shake him off", but could not. Talk he would, and as his talk was of that kind which did not require much reply on my part, he took my silence for acquiescence, and talked on. I soon found that he was a character; and, as he knew every part of the lower colonies, and everybody in them, I employed him as my guide. I have made, at different times, three several tours with him, the results of which I have given in three several series of a work en- titled the " Clockmaker, or the Sayings and Doings of MnSamuel Slick." Our last tour terminated at New York, where|ui conse- quence of the celebrity he obtained from these " Sayings and Doings" he received the appointment of Attache to the American Legation at the Court of St. Jame s's. ^ The object of this work is to continue the record of his observations and proceedings in England. The third person of the party, gentle reader, is your humble 6er,ant,y.'homas Poker, Esquire, a native of Nova Scolia, and a retired member of the Provincial baiv^My name will seldom appear in these pages, as 1 am uniformly addressed by both my companioim as " Squire," nor shall 1 have to perform the disagreeable tjusk of '' reporting my own speeches," for naturally taciturn, 1 delight in listening rather than talking, and modestly prefer the duties of an amanuensis, to the responsibilities of original composition. The last personage is Jube Japan, a black servant of the Attache Such are the persons who composed the little party that embarkec SAM SLICK TN ENGLAND. 15 ti, , w Tork, on board the packet-ship * Tyler/ and sailed on the of May, 184 — , for England. The motto prefixed to this work, Mtffo fivrjfiova 2v/nT0TT]V, . eufficicntly explains its character. Classe s and not individuals have been selected for observation. Nafio^Ltuiits are fair subjects for satire or for praise, but personal peculiarities claim the pmilcge of exemjition in flglTt of that hospitality, through whose medium they have been alone exhibited. Public topics are public property; everybody has a right to use them without leave and without apology. It is only when we quit the limits of this " common " and enter upon " private grounds," that we are guilty of " a trespass." This dis- tinction is alike obvious to good sense and right feeling. I have endeavored to keep it constantly in view ; and if at any time I shall be supposed to have erred (I say " supposed," for I am unconscious of having done so) I must claim the indulgence always granted to involuntary offences. Now, the patience of my reader may fairly be considered a " private right." I shall, therefore, respect its boundaries, and proceed at once with my narrative, having been already quite long enough about " uncorking a bottle." ^ CHAPTER II. ^. i ;^«M A JUICY DAY IN THE COUNTRY. All our preparations for the voyage having been completed, we spent the last day at our disposal, in visiting Brooklyn. The weather was uncommonly fine, the sky being perfectly clear and unclouded; and though the sun shone out brilliantly, the heat was tempered by a cool, bracing, westwardly wind. Its influence was percejjtible on the spirits of everybody on board the ferry-boat that transported us across the harbor. *' Squire," said Mr. Slick, "aijit this as pretty a day as you'll see fttween this and Nova Scotia ?--A You can't beat American weather, when it chooses, in no part of the world I've ever been in yet^ Tliia day is a tip-toppc, and it's the last we'll see of the kind tilTtve get back agin, / know. Take a fool's advise, for once, and stick to it, as long as there is any of it left, for you'll see the difference when you get to England. There never was so rainy a place in the I; fc ii t: 16 THE attache; ok, univarse, as that, I don't think, unless it's Ireland, and the only difference atween them two is that it rains every day amo;t in Eng- land, and in Ireland it rains every day and every night, too. It's awful, and you must keep out of a eountry -house in such weather, • or you'll go for it ; it will kill you, that's sartain. I shall never for- get a juicy day I once spent in one of them dismal old places. I'll tell you liow I came to be there. " Tlie last time I was to England, I was a dinin' with our consul to Liverpool, and a very gentleman-like old man he was, too ; he was appointed to Washington, and had been there ever since ouf glorious revolution. Folks gave him a great name ; they said he was a credit to us. Well, I met at his table, one day, an old country squire, that lived somewhere down in Shropshire, close on to Wales, and, says he to me, arter cloth was off and cigars on, ' Mr. Slick,' says he, ' I'll be very glad to see you to Norman Manor,' (that was the place where he staid, when he was to home). 'If you will re- turn with me, I shall be glad to show you the country in my neigh- borhood, which is said to be considerable pretty.* " ' Well,' says I, ' as I have nothin' above particular to see to, I don't care if I do* go.* " So, off we started ; and this I will say, he was as kind as he cleverly knew how to be, and that is sayin' a great deal for a man that didn't know nothin' out of sight of his own clearin' hardly. " Now, when we got there, the house was chock full of company, and considerin' it warn't an overly large one, and that Britishers won't st^y in_a_liiyase, unless every feller gets a separatebed, it's a wonder to me," how he stowed away as many as he did. Says he, * Excuse your quarters, Mr. Slick, but I iind more company nor I expected here. In a day or two, some on 'em will be off, and then you shall be better provided.' " With that I was shojved up a great staircase, and out o' that by a door-way into a narrer entry, and from that into an old jl iike looking building, that stuck out behind the house. It warn t the common comj)any sleepin' room, I expect, but kinder make shifts, tho' they was good enough, too, for the matter o' that ; at all events, X don't wiuit no better. " Well, I had hardly got well housed a'most, afore it came on to rain, as if it was in rael right down airnest. It warn't just a roarm', racin', sneezin' rain like a thunder shower, but it kept a steady travellin' gait, up hill and down dale, and no breathin' time nor batiu' spell. It didn't look as it would stop till it was t^one, that's a fact. iJut still, as it was too late to go out again that arternoon, I didn't think much about it then. I hadn't no notion what was m store for me next day, no more nor a child ; if I had, I'd a double deal sooner hanged myself, than gone brousing in such place i>4 that, in stick/ weather. '.i\ SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 17 ** A wet day is considerable tiresome, any where or any way you con fix it ; but it's wus at an xi^nglish country-house than any wliere else, cause you are among strangers, formal, cold, gallus polite, and as thick in the head-piece as a puncheon. You hante nothin' to do yourself, and they never have nothin' to do ;|they doi-i't know nothin' about America, and don't want to. Your talk don't interest them, and they can't talk to interest nobody but themselvesilall you've got to do, is to pull out your watch and see how time goes ; how much of the day is left, and, then, go to the winder and see how the sky looks, .ind whether there is any chance of holdin' up or no. Well, that time I went to bed a little airlier than common, for I felt con- siderable sleepy, and considerable strange, too; so, as soon as I cleverly could, I off and turned in. " Well, I am an airly riser myself. I always was from a boy; so, I waked up jist about the time when day ought to break, and was a thinkin' to get up ; but the shutters was too, and it was as dark as ink in the room, and I heer'd it rainin' away for dear life. ' So,' sals I to myself, ' what the dogs is the use of gittin' up so airly ? 1 can't get out and get a smoke, and I can't do nothin' here ; so, here goes for a second nap.' Well, I was soon off again in a most a beautiful of a snore, when all at once I heard thump — thump agin the shutter — and the most horrid noise I ever heerd since I was raised ; it was sunthin' quite onairthly. " * Hallo !' says I to myself, ' what in natur is all this hubbub about? Can this here confounded old house be harnted ? Is them spirits that's jabbering gibberish there, or is I wide awake or no ?' So, I sets right up on my hind legs in bed, rubs my eyes, opens my ears and listens agin, wiien whop went every shutter agin, with a dead heavy sound, like somethin* or another thrown agin 'em, or fallin' agin 'em, and then comes the unknown tongues in discord chorus like. Sais I, ' I know now, it's them cussed navigators. They've besot the house, and are a givin* lip to frighten folks. It's regular banditti.' " So, I jist hops out of bed, and feels for my trunk, and outs with my talkin' irons, that was all ready loaded, pokes my way to the winder — shoves the sash up and outs with the shutter, ready to let slip among 'em. And what do you think it was ? — Hundreds and hundreds of them nasty, dirty, filthy, ugly, black devils of rooks, located in the trees at the back eend of the house. Old Nick couldr't have slepi near 'em ; caw, caw, caw, all raixt up together in one jumble of a sound, like *jawe.' ♦' ' You black, evil-lookin', foul-mouthed villains,* sais I, * I *d like no better sport than jist to sit here, all this blessed day with these pistols, and drop you one arter another, / know.' But they was pets, was them rooks, and of course like all petb, everlastin' nui- sances to everybody else. ;( ■V :' n k 18 THE ATTACH^; OB, " Well, when a man's in a feeze, there's no more sleep that hitch BO I dresses and t^its up; but what was I to do? It was jist half* past four, and as it was a rainiu' like everythinjj, I knowcd break- fast wouldn't be ready till eleven o'clock, tor nobody wouldn't get up if they could helj) it — they wouldn't be such fools ; so there was jail for six hours and a half. " Well, I walked up and down the room, as easy as I could, not to waken folks; but three steps and arcjnd turn makes you kinder dizzy, so I sits down a^^ain to chaw the cud of vexation. " ' Aint tljis a handsum' fix ?' sais I, ' but it sarves you right, what busniss Lad you here at all? you always was a fool, and always will be to the eend of the chaj)ter. — ' What in natur ai'e you a seoldin' ibr ?' sais I : ' that won't mend the matter ; how's time ? They must soon be a stirrin* now, I guess.' Well, as I am a livin' sinner, it was only five o'clock ; ' oh dear,' sais I,>J time is like a woman and pigs, the more you want it to go, the more it won'u/ What on airth shall I do? — guess, I '11 strap my rasor.' " Well, I strapped and strapped avay, until it would cut a single hair pulled strait up on eend out o' your head, without bendin' it — take it otf slick. ' Now,' sais I, ' I '11 mend my trowsers I tore, a goin' to see the ruin on the road yesterday ;" so I takes out Sister Sail's little needle-case, and sows away till I got them to look con- siderable jam agin ; ' and then,' sais I, ' here's a gallus button off, I'll jist fix that,' and when that w^as done, there was a hole to my yarn sock, so I turned too and darned that. " ' Now,' /«ais I, ' how goes it ? I'm considerable sharp set. It must be gettin' tolerable late now.' It wanted a quarter to six. *My! sakes,' sais I, 'iivc hours and a quarter yet afore feedin' time; well if that don't pass. What shall I do next?' 'I'll tell you what to do,' sais J, ' smoke, that will take the edge of your appetite off, and if they don't like it, they may lump it ; what busi- ness have they to keep them liorrid screetchin' infernal sleepless rooks to disturb people that way ?' Well, I takes a lucifer, and lights a cigar, and I puts my head up the chimbly to let the smoke off, and it felt good, I promise i/ou. I don't know as I ever enjoyed one half so much afore. It had a rael first chop flavor had that cigar. " When that was done, sais I, * What do you say to another ?' * Well, I don't know,' sais I, ' I should like it, that's a fact ; but holdin' of my head crooked up chimbly that way, has a most broke my neck ; I've got the cramp in it like.' " So I sot, and shook my head first a one side and then the j»ther, and then turned it on its hinges as far as it would go, till it felt about right, and then I lights another, and puts my head in the fine again " Well, smokin' makes a feller feel kinder good-uatured, and I SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 19 get be^an to think it warn't quite so bad arter all, when whop went my cigar right out of my mouth into my bosom, atween the shirt and the skin, and burnt me like a gaily nipper. Both my eyes was fill'd at tl>e same time, and I got a crack on the pate from some critter or another that clawed and scratched my head like any thing, and then seemed to empty a busliel-of sut on me, and I looked like a chimbly sweep, and felt like old Scratch himself. My smoke had brought down a chimbly swaller, or a martin, or some such varmint, for it up and off agin' afore I could catch it, to wring ita infernal neck olf, that's a fact. " Well, here was somethin' to do, and no mistake : here was to clean and groom up agin' till all was in its right shape ; and a pretty job it was, I tell you. I thought I never should get the sut out of my hair, and then never get it out of my brush again, and my eyes smarted so, they did nothin' but water, and wink, and make faces. But I did ; 1 worked on and worked on, till all was sot right once more. " ' Now,' sais I, ' how's time ?' ' half-i)ast seven,' sait; I, * and three houi*s and a half more yet to breakfast. Well,' sais I, ' I can't stand this — and what's more I won't : J. begin to get my Ebenezer up, and feel woUish. I'll ring up the handsum chamber-maid, and just fall to, and chaw her right up — I'm savageroiis.* ' That's * The word " savagcrous" is not of" Yankee" but of "Western " origin.' — Its use in tins place is best explained by the following extract from the Third Series of the Clockmaker. " i*ii order that the sketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may be necessary to request the reader to re- collect thataMr. Slick is a Yankee, adesiirnation, the origin of which is now not very obvious, but it has been assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the inhabitants of New England. It is a name, though sometimes satirically used, of which they have great reason to be proud, as it is descriptive of a most cultivated, intelligent, enterprising, frugal, and industrious poj)uiation, who may well challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of any other country in the world ; but it has only a local application. " The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the inhabitants of different parts of the Union differ as widely in character, feelings, and even in appearance, as the people in different countries usually do. These sections differ also in dialect and in humor, as much aw in other tilings, and to as great, if not a greater extent, than the natives of diiferent parts of Great Britain vary from each other. It is customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees ; but it is as much ^ misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans Frenchmen. Throughout these works it will be observed, that Mr. Slick's pronunciation is that of the Yankee, or an inhabitant of therwra/ districts of New England. His conversation is generally purely so; but in some instances he uses, as his coun- trymen frequently do from choice, phra.scs which, though Americanisms, are not of Eastern origin. \\ holly to exclude these would be to violate the usages of American life ; to introduce them oftener would be to confound two dissimi- lar dialects, and to make an equal departure from the truth. Every section has its own characteristic dialect, a very small portion of which it has imparted to its neighbors. The dry, quaint humor of New England is occasionally found in the west, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of the west mi* 1 r 1 1 1 ;fl! I 20 THE ATfACHfi; OR, " But here was a fix ! staircase, and which was know ?' • Upon my soul, cowardly,' sais I, ' call the footman, pick a quarrel with him, and kick him down stairs, speak but one word to him, and let that be strong enough to skin the coon arter it has killed him, the noise will wake up folks I know, and then we shall have sunthin' to eat.' " I was ready to bile right over, when as luck would have it, the rain stopt all of a sudden, the sun broke out o' prison, and I thought I never seed any thing look so green and so beautiful as the country did. ' Come,* sais I ' now for a walk down the avenue, and a com- fortable smoke, and if the man at the gate is up and stirrin', I will just pop in and breakfast with him and his wife. There is some natur there, but here it's all cussed rooks and chimbly s wallers, and heavy men and fat women, and lazy helps, and Sunday every day in the week.' So I fills my cigar case and outs into the passage One of the doors opened into the great it ? * Ay,' sais I, • which is it, do you I don't know,' sais I; *but try, it's no use to be caged up here like a painter, and out I will, that's a fact.' "• So I stops and studies, ' that's it,' sais I, and I opens a door : it was a bed-room — it was the likely chambermaid's. *' ' Softly, Sir,' sais she, a puttin' of her finger on her lip, * don't make no noise ; Missus will hear you.* " * Yes,' sais I, ' I won't make no noise ;' and I outs and shuts the door too arter me gently. *' * What next ?' sais I ; * why you fool you,' sais I, ' why didn't you ax the sarvant maid, which door it was ?' ' Why I was so con- fiastrigated,' sais I, ' I didn't think of it. Try that door,' well I opened another, it belonged to one o' the horrid hansum stranger galls that dined at table yesterday. When she seed me, she gave a scream, popt her head onder the clothes, like a terrapin, and vanished — well I vanished too. " ' Ain't this too bad ?' sais I ; * I wish I could open a man's door, I'd lick him out of spite ; I hope I may be shot if I don't, an(l I doubled up my fist, for I didn't like it a spec, and opened another door — it was the housekeeper's. ' Come,' sais I, ' I won't be balked no mors.' She sot up and fixed her cap. A woman never forgets the becomins. " * Any thing I can do for you, Sir ?' sais sh*, and she raelly did look pretty; all good-natured people, it appears to me, do look so. 'l'-'{ grates noi; unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling propensities of the Americans, and thd constant intercourse mutually maintained by the inhabitants of the difTeren Slates. A droll or an rriginal expression is thus imported and adopted, and though not indigcnoub, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the laa guagc of the country." — Sd Seriej>, p. 148. !M 0AM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 21 forgets " * Will you be so good as to tell me, which dooi* leads to the staircase, Murm ? sals I. " ' Oh, is that all ?' sais she, (I suppose, sho thort 1 wanted her to get up and get breakfast for me), ' it's the tirst on the right, and she fixed her cap agin' and laid down, and I took the first on the right and off like a blowed out-candle. There was the staircase. I walked down, took my hat, onboUed the outer door, and what a beautiful day was there. I lit my cigar, I breathed freely, and I strolled down the avenue. " The bushes glistened, and the grass glistened, and the air was sweet, and the birds sung, and there was natur' once more. I walked to the lodge ; they had breakfasted had the old folks, so I chattered away with them for a considerable of a spell about matters and things in general, and tlien turned towards the house agin.' ' Uallo !' sais I, * what's this ? warn't that a drop of rain ?' I looks up, it was another shower, by Gosh. I pulls foot for dear life : it was tall walking you may depend, but the shower wins, (comprehenstye as my legs be), and down it comes, as hard as all posset. ' Take it easy, Sam,* sais I, ' your fiint is fixed ; you are wet thro' — runnin' won't dry you,' and I settled down to a careless walk, quite desperate. " ' Nothin* in natur', unless it is an Ingin, is so treacherous as the climate here. It jist clears up on purpose, I do believe, to tempt you out without your unbreller, and jist as sure as you trust it and leave it to home, it clouds right up, and sarves you out for it — it does, indeed. What a sight of new clothes I've spilte here, for the rain has a sort of dye in it. It stains so, it alters the color of the cloth, for the smoke is filled with gas and all sorts of chemicals. Well, back I goes to my room agin' to the rooks, chirably swallers, and all, leavin' a great endurin' streak of wet arter me all the way, like a cracked pitcher that leaks ; onriggs, and puts on dry clothes from head to foot. " By this time breakfast is ready ; but the English don't do nothin' like other folks ; I don't know whether it's affectation, or beiii' wi'ong in the head — a little of both, I guess. Now, where do you suppose the solid part of breakfiist is. Squire ? Why, it's on the sideboard— I hope I may be shot if it ain't — well, the tea and coffee are on the table, to make it as onconvenient as possible. '• Sais I, to the lady of the house, as I got up to help myself, for I was hungry enough to make beef ache, I know. ' Aunty, sais I, ' you'll excuse me, but why don't you put the eatables on the table, or else put the tea on the sideboard ? They're like man and wife, they don't ought to be soparated, them two.' " She looked at me ; oh, what a look of pity it was, as much as to say, ' Whei'e have you been all your born days, not to know better nor that ? — but I guess you don't know better in the States — how 22 THE ATTACHf: ; OR, could you know anything there ?' But she only said it waa the cu3 torn here, for she was a very purlite old woman, was Aunty. Well, sense is sense, let it grow where it will, and I guess we raise about the best khid, wliieh is common sense, and I warn't to bo put down with short metre, arter that fashion. So, I tried the old man ; sais I, ' Uncle,' sais I, * if you will divorce the eatables from the drinkables that way, why not let the sarvants come and tend ? It'vS monstrous onconvenient and ridikilous to be a jumpin' up for eviSr- lastinly that way ; you can't sit still one bliissed minit.' *' ' We think it pleasant,' said he, ' sometimes, to dispense Avith their attendance.* " * Exactly,' sais I, ' then dispense with sarvants at dinner, for when the wine is in, the wit is Out,' (I said that to compliment him,^ for the critter had no wit in at no time,) * and they hear all the talk. But at breakfast every one is onl}' half awake, (esj)eeially when you rise so airly as you do in this coimti-y,' sals 1, but the old critter couldn't see a joke, even if he ll'lt it, and he didn't know I was a i'unnin'.) ' Folks are considerably sharp set at breakfast,' tais I, 'and not very talkatu-e. That's the right time to have sarvants to tend on you.' " ' What an idea 1' said he, and he puckered up his jjictur, and the way he stared was a caution to an owl. " Well, we sot and sot till 1 was tired ; $o, thinks I, * what's next? for it's rainin' again as hard as ever.' So, 1 took a turn in the study to sarch for a book, but there was nothin' there, but a Guide to the Sessions, Burn's Justice, and a book of London club rules, and two or three novels. He said he got books from the sarkilatin' library. " ' Lunch is ready.' " ' What, eatin' agin ? My goody !' thinks I, ' if you are so fond of it, why the plague don't you begin airly ? If you'd a had it at five o'clock this morning, I'd a done justice to it ; now, I couldn't touch it if I was to die.' ' " There it was, though. Help yourself, and no thanks, for there is no sarvants agin. The rule here is, no talk, no sarvants — and when it's all talk, it's all sarvants. " Thinks I to myself, ' now, what shall I do till diimer-time, for it rains so tliere is no stirrin' out ? — Walter, where is eldest son .'' — he and I will have a game of billiards, I guess.' " ' He is laying down. Sir.' " ' Shows his sense,' sais I; ' I see, he is not the fool I took him to be. li' I could sleep in the day, I'de turn in too. Where is second eon?' " ' Left this morn in' in the close carriage, Sir.' " ' Oh, cuss him, it was him, then, was it ?' "«Wliat, Sir?' K •'^m M < lick'i <( « ti ( ««• «'( «'1 ing roi The 111 nil hail gallop wani't ^'hcy (1 think '( " Wl lain, n noboily ti'adcs ; get out to tdl 1 j''»wiu' u comes k " ' ^VJ *• ' Sir " ' Ga " ' Sir "'Jt's of the fbi " ' Yes "*It I 'slund — J "'Yes, "*No, 'Ju knov " • I ne " ' Wei "'Oil, " And , " Cus h ill him a ick imps " «o, 1 ; arter tnd time trntlmtvi for SAM SLIOK IN ENGLAND. 28 r there s — luid e, for it u?— he 1 : him to i sccoad 1 ** ' That woke them confounded rooks up, out o* their fust nap, and kick't up such a bobbery. Where is the Parson ?' "'Wlilch one, Sir?' " • 'J'lie one that's so fond of fishing.' «' Ain't up yet, Sir.' " * Well, the old boy, that wore breeches?' " ' Out on a sick visit to one of the cotta«?es, sir.' " ' When he comes in, send him to me : I'm shockin:h viV to the stable; and, sais I to the head man, 'A smart little ho^vs that,' sais I, 'you are a cleaning of; he looks like a first chop article tliut.' " ' Y mae',' sais he. "' Hullo,' says I, 'what in nutur' is this? Is it him that can't speak English, or me that can't onderstand ? for one on us is a fool, that's sartain. I'll try him agin.' " So, I sais to him, ' He looks,' says I, ' as if he'd trot a consider- able good stick, that horse,' suis I, * I guess he is a goer.' " ' Y' mae, ye \\n trott(;r da,' sais he. "' Creation !' sais I, 'if this don't beat gineral trainiu'. I '.ive beerd, in my time, broken French, broken Scotch, broken Irish, broken Yankee, broken Isigger, and broken Indgin ; but 1 have heurn two pure geneirme hinguages to-day, and no mistake, real rook, and rael Britlon, and I don't exactly know which I like wus. It's no use to stand talkin' to this critter, (lood-bye,' sais 1. "Now, what do you think he said? Why, you would suppose he'd say good-dye, too, wouldn't you ? "Well, he didn't, nor nothin like it, but he jist ups, and sais, ' Forwelloaugh,' he did, uj)on m> soul. 1 never felt so shnupt afore in all my life. Sais I, ' Friend, here is half a dollar Un- you ; it arn't often I'm brought to a dead stare, and when 1 am, I am willin' to i)ay for it.' " There's two languages, Squire, that's univarsal : the language of love, and the language of money ; the galls onderstand the one, and the men onderstand the other, all the wide world over, from Canton to Niagara. I no sooner showed him the half-dollar, than it walked into his pocket, a plaguy sight quicker than it will walk out, I guess. " Sais 1, ' Friend, you've taken the consait out of me properly. Captain Hall said there warn't a man, woman, or child, in the whole of the' thirteen united univarsal worlds of our great Republic, that could speak pure English and I was a goin' to kick him for it ; but he is right, arter all. There ain't one livin' ^jul on us can ; J don't believe they ever as much as heerd it, for I never did, til- this blessed day, and there are few things I haven't either see'd, o» heern tell of. Yes, we can't speak English, do you take ?' ' Dim comrag,' says he, which in Yankee means, ' that's no English,' and h't stood, looked puzzled, and scratched his head, rael hansum, 'Dim coinrr.^^,' sais ue. " Weil, it myde me larf spiteful. I felt kinder wicked, and as I bid a hat on, and I couldn't scratch my head, I stood jist like him, clown fashion, with my eyes wonderin' and my mouth wide open, m~- SAM SMCK IN KN(iI.AM'. 25 I didnM ' puis Ij ihrcUer, u cuta- «3 oft' to MS that,' [:1c that.' Iiat can't is ft tool, considcv- I liave ;en liislij It 1 luivc nxUc, veal like was. I. d suppose lor nolhiu upon m> L » FriemA, , to a (lead language d the one, over, from ollar, than will walk properly. |ild, in the Republic, |him for it ; us can; I rer did, til- ir see'd, o* (e ?' ' Dim iglish,' and bsum, 'Dim Id, and as I kt like liiottj [wide open, and put my hand b« hind nic, at\d ttcratchcd tin-re ; and I starod, njul l()(»ktMl pjiz/l<'lowly, \\ilh anotlier ^eratch, mocking him like, ' Dim eoiniag." *• SiK'h a pair atler, spatter, spatter — * 1 can't stoj) here with theso true IJrittons,' sals I ; 'guess I'll go and see the old Scpiire; he is in his study.' "So I goes (lien^: 'Squire,' sals I, 'let me olTer you a rael peneM'///r' Havana cigar ; I can recommend it to you.' He thanks me, he , tli;U's the one, I reckon, I disturbed this mornin.' Cuss the rooks! ill pyson them, and that won't make no noise. " She shows me the consarvitery. ' Take care Sir, your coat has caught this geranium,' and she onhitches it. ' Stop, Sir, you'll break this jilly llower,' and she litis olf the coat tail agin ; in fact, it's s-i HOME AND THE SEA IH At eleven o'clock the next day the " Tyler," hjiving shaken out her pinions, and spread them to the breeze, commenced at a rapid rate her long and solitary voyage across the Atlantic. Object after object rose in rapid succession into distinct view, was approached and passed, until, leaving the calm and sheltered waters of the bay, we emerged into the ocean, and involuntai'ily turned to look back upon tlie land we had left. Long after the lesser hills and low country liad disappeared, a few ambitious peaks of the highlands still met the eye, appearing as if they had advanced to the very edge of the water, to prolong the view of us till the hist moment. This coast is a portion of my native continent, for though not a subject of the liepublic, I am still an American in its laiger sense, havuig been born in a Britisii province in this hemisphere. I there- fore sympathized witii tlie feelings of my two companions, whose straining eyes were still lixed ou those dim and distant specks in the horizon. " There," said Mr. Slick, rising from his seat, " I believe we have seen the last of home till next time ; and this I will say\jt is the most glorious country onder the sun ; travel where you will, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 81 u we t is ivill, you won't ditto it no whercj/ It is the toploftiest place in all crea- tion/ain't it, minister?" There was no response to all this bombast. It was evident he had not been heard ; and turning to Mr. IIopew(;ll, I observed his eyes were iixed intently on the distance, and his mind pre-oe(!upie(l by painful reflections, for tears were coursing after each other down his furrowed but placid cheek. '•Squire," said Mr. Slick to me, "this won't do. We must not allow him to dwell too long on the thoughts of leaving home, or lie'il droop like. any thing, and p'raps, hang his head and fade right, away, lie is aged and feeble, and everything depends on keeping up his spirits. An old plant must be shaded, well watered, and tended, or you can't trans})lant it no how you can fix it:, that's a fact. He won't give ear to mc now, for he knows 1 can't talk serious, if I was to try ; but he will listen to you. Tiy to cheer him up, and I will go down below and give you a chauc(^" As soon as I addressed him, he st»arted and said, ** Oh 1 is it you. Squire ? come and sit down by me, my^ friend. I cau talk to yoitj iind I assure you I take great pleasure in doing so. I cannot alwiiys talk to Sam: he is excited now; he is anticipating great pleasure from his visit to England, and is quite boisterous in the exuber- ance of his spirits. 1 own I am depressed at times ; it is natural I should be, but I shall endeavor not to be the cause of sadness in others. I not only like cheerfulness myself, but I like to pro mote it ; it is a sign of an innocent mind, and a heart in peace with God and in charity with man. All natui-e is cheerful, its voice is harmonious, and its countenance smiling ; the very garb in which it is clothed is gay ; why then should man be an exce[)tio!i to everything around him ? Sour sectarians, who address our fears, rather than our att'ections, may say what they please. Sir, mirth is not inconsistent with religion, but rather an evidence that our religion is right. If 1 appeal' dull, therefore, do not suppose it is because 1 think it necessary to be so, but because certain reflections are natural to me as a clergyman, as a man liir advanccnl in years, and as a pilgrim who leaves his home at a period of life, when the j)robabilities are, he may not be spared to revisit it. "lam, like yourself, a colonist by birth. At the revolution, I took no part in the struggle; my profession and my habits both exempted me. Whether the se])aration was justiflable or not, eith*;r on civil or religious jirineiples, it is not now necessary to discuss. It took place, however, and the colonies becajne a nation, and after due cousideratiosi, 1 concluded to dwell among 'mine own people. Tiiere 1 have contiimed, with the exception of one or two short journeys lor the benelit of my health, to the i)resent period. Parting with those whom I have known so long and loved 6o well, is doubtless a trial to one whose heart is still warm, whil*- ": ' * I 32 THK aitacue; ok, his nerves are weak, and wh^^e affoctions are greater tlian his firm* ness. But I weary vou with tliirf eirotisin ?" "Not at all," I replied, "I am both iustrueted and delighted by your conversation. Pray proeet'd, Sir." " Well, it is kind, very kind of you," said he, "to say so. I will explain these seirsations to you, and then undeavor never to alludo to them again. Ameiici i.s luy birtii-plaee and my home. Home has two sign iticat ions, a restrieted one and an enlarged one ; in it.s )es(ricted sense, it is the place of our abode, it includes our social circle, our parents, children, and friends, and contains the living and thed(.'ad; t'.ie past and the present generations of our race. Jiy a very iiatiu'al process, the scene of our aifections soon becomes identified with them, and a portion of our regard is transferred from animate to inanimate objects. The streams on which we sported, the mountains on which we clambered, the lields in which we wandered, the school where we weix; instructed, the church where we worshi{)ped, the very bell whose pensive melancholy music recalled our wandering steps in youth, awaken in after years many a tender thought, many a pleasing recollection, and api)eal to *'.,c heart with the Ibrce and eloquence of love. The country {^gaiii contains all these things, the sphere is widened, new objects are included, and this extension of the circle is love of country. It is thus that the nation is said in an enlarged sense, to be our home also. " This love of country is both natural and laudable : so natural, that to exclude a man from his country, is the greatest punishment that country can intlict upon him; and so laudable, that when it becomes a principle of action, it forms the hero and the patriot. How impressive, liow beautiful, how dignified was tlie answer of the Shunamite woman to Elisha, who, in his gratitude to l^er for her hospitality and kindness, made her a tender of his interest at court. ' Wouldst thou,' said he, 'be spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host ?' — Wiiat an otier was that, to gratify her ambition or flatter her pride! ' 1 dwell,' she said, 'among mine own people.' What a characteristic answer! all history furnishes no parallel to it. "1 too dwell 'among my own people:' my affections are there, and there also is the sphere of my duties; and if I am depressed by the thoughts of parting from ' my people,' I will do you the justice to believe, that you would rather bear with its etFvCts, than witness the absence of such natural affection. " But this is not the sole cause : independently of some afllic- tions of a clerical nature in my late parish, to which it is not neces- sary to allude, the contemplation of this vast and fathomless ocean, both from its novelty and its grandeur, overwhelms me. At home I am fond of tracing the Creator in His works. From the erratic iSaiissBimasi SAM SLTCK IX ENnLAND. 89 comet in tlio firmamont, lo the flosvcr that blos.-oins In tlic iu'kl ; in all nniniatc, find inanimate matter; in all tiiat i.s animal, vej»etabltf or minei'al, I sec His inlinite wisdom, almighty power, and ever- lastinji; glory. " liut that home is inland ; I have not beheld the sea now for many years. I never saw it withont emotion; I now view it with awe. What an emblem of eternity ! — lis dominion is alone reserved lo Him who made it. Changing yet ehangeless — ever vaiwing, yet always the same. How weak and ])owerless is n\[\n I how short his s|ian of life, wIkmi he is viewed in connection wilh tin.' sea! Ho has left no trace npon it — it will not receive the irn[)ress of Ina haiids; it obeys no laws, but those im[)osed upon it by Him, who called it into existence ; generation after geiu^ration has looked upon it as we now do — antl where are they ? Like yOdder waves that press upon each other in regular succession, they have passed away for ever; and their nation, their language, their temples and their tombs have perished with them, liut there is the Undying one. When man was foraied, the voice of the ocean was heard, as it now is, speaking of its mysteries, and proclaiming His glory, who alone lifteth its waves, or stilleth the rage thereof. " And yet, my dear friend, for so you must allow me to call you, awful as these considerations are, which it suggests, who are they that go down to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters ? The sordid trader, and the armed and mercenary sailor : gold or blood is their object, and the fear of God is not always in them. Yet the sea shall give up its dead, as well as the grave ; and all shall " But it is not my intention to preach to you. To intrude seri 0U3 topics upon our friends at all times, has a tendency to make both ourselves* and our topics distasteful. 1 mention these things to you, not that they are not obvious to you and every other right- minded man, or that I think I can clothe them in more attractive language, or utter them with more effect than others ; but merely to account for my absence of mind and evident air of abstraction. I know my days are numbered, and in the nature of things, that those that are left, cannot be many. '' Pardon me, therefore, 1 pray you, my friend ; make allowances for an old man, unaccustomed to leave home, and uncertain whether h<^ shall ever be permitted to return to it. 1 feel deeply and sensi- bly your kindness in soliciting my company on this tour, and will endeavor so to regulate my feelings as not to make you regret your invitation. I shall not again recur to these topics, or trouble you with any further rejections ' on Home and the Sea.' " ii 2* ^'^^1 84 THE ATTACH^; OB, CHAT T E R V. k V 1 \ \ ' f . V* ■S . '^ i u f y y T'OTHER E E N D OF THE GUN. "SQUTiiK," said Mr. Hopewell, one morning when we were alone on the qui^ter-deck, " sit down by me, if you please. I wish to have ji little privat^ conversation with you. I am a gooo deal con- cerned about 8am.\l never liked this appointment he has vcceived: neither his education, his habits, nor his manners have qualified him for it. He is fitted for a trader, and for nothing else. He looks upon politics as he does upon his trailic in clocks, rather as profita- ble to himself than beneficial to others. Self is jiredominant with him. He overrates the importance of his oflice, as he will find when he arrives in London ; but what is still worse, he overrates the importance of the opinions of others regarding the States/ " He has been readii-'g that foolish book of Coc;per's ' Gleanings in Europe,' and intends to show fight, he says. iTe' called my at- tention, yesterday, to this absurd pas,-age, which he maintains is the most manly and sensible thing that Coojjer ever wrote: 'This indif- /erence to the feelings of others is a dark spot on the national man- ners of England. The only way to put it down, is to become belligerent yourself, by introducing Pauperism, Radicalism, Ireland, the Indies, or some other sore point. Like all who make butts of others, they do not manifest the pro[)er forbearance when the tables are turnecl. Of this I have had abundance of proof in my ow experience. Sometimes their remarks are absolutely rude, and personally olfensive, as a disi'egard of one's national character is a disrespect to Ins princii»les ; but as pei-sonal quarrels on such grounds are to be avoided, I have uniformly retorted in kind, if there was the smallest opening for such retaliation.' " Now, every gentleman in the States repudiates such sentiments as these. My object in mentioning the subj(;ct to you, is to request the favor of you to persuade Sam not to be too sensitive on these topics ; not to take offence, whei'e it is not intended ; and, above all, rather to vindicate his nationality by his conduct, than to justify those aspersions by his intemperate behavior. But here he comes l ) shall witiidraw, and leave you together." " Fortunately, Mr. Slick coiinnenced talking upon a topic which % i JMUI jfgaa$^KB'ju^-*~yxe^'~*-. t K ilcb SAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 86 natuially led to that to which Mr. Ilopcwell ha ished me to direct his attention. " AVell, Squire;' paid he,\'I am glad, too, you arc a goin' to Kngliind along with me : we will take a rise out of John Bull, won't we ? We've hit liliie-nose and Brother Jonathan both pretty considerable tarnation hard, and Joim has split his sides with lartter. Let's tickle him now, by t'eeli; ' his own short ribs, and see how //t' will like it ; we'll soon see whose .hide is the thickest, hisn or ourn, won't we ? Let's see whether he will say chee, chee, chee, when he gets to the t'other eend of the gun." / " What is the meaning of that saying ?" I asked. " I never heard it befoi-e." " Why," said . he, " when I was a considerable of a growd up saplin of a boy to Slickville, I used to be a gunnin' for everhistinly amost in our hickory woods, a shootin' of squirrels v/ith a rifle, and I got amazia' expart at it. I could take the head off of them chat- terin' little imps, when I got a fair shot at 'em with a ball, at any reasonable distance a'most, in nine cases out of ten. " Well, one day I was out as usual, and our Irish help, Paddy Burke, was along with me, and every time he see'd me a drawin* of the bead line on 'em, he used to say, * W(dl, you've an excellent gun entirely, JNIaster Sam. Oh by Jakers ! the squirreL has no chanc^^ with that gun — it's an excellent one entirelv.' "■At last I got tired a hearin' of him a jawin' so for ever and a day about the excellent gun entirely ; so, sais I, ' You fool you, do you think it's the gun that does it entirely, as you say ; ain't there a little dust of skill in it? Do you think you could fetch one down ?* " ' Oh, it's a capital gun entirely,' said he. " ' Well,' said I, ' if it 'tis, try it now, and see what sort of a fist you'll make of it.' " So Paddy takes the rifle, lookin' as knowin' all the time as if he had ever seed one afore. Well, there was a great red squirrel on the tip-top of a limb, chatterin' away like anytiiing, chee, dice, chee, proper frightened ; he know'd it warn't me, that was a parsecutin' of him, and he expected he'd be hurt. They know'd me, did the little critters, when they seed me, and they know'tl I never hud hurt one on 'em, my balls never givin' 'em a chance to feel what was the matter of them ; but Pat they didn't know, and they see'd he ^^aru't {he man to handle ' Old Bull-Dog.' I used to call my rifle Bull- Dog, 'cause she always bit afoi'C she barked. " Pat threw one foot out astarn, like a skullin' oar, and then bent .''orrards like a hoop, and fetched the rifle slowly up to the line, and tihot to the right eye. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel. He bee'd it was wrong. ' By the powers !' sais Pat, ' this is a left-har.a- ed boot,' and he brought the gun to the other shoulder, and then hi I ■; II ; 1^ r I i .4 11 i "iwi ' mr &. ■ , .'^.^«ifi^«.li«lMH-H ! ! 86 THE ATTACuf;; on, shot to his left eyo. ' Fegs !' sals l*iU, ' thin j,Min was maclo for a pquint eye, for I can't get a right strait sight of the critler, either side.' So I fixt it for liim and told him wliich eye to .sight hy. ' An excellent gun entirely,' cays I'at, ' but it tante made like the rifles we have.' "Ain't Ihey strange critters, them Irish, Squire? That fellcf never handled a rille niore in all liis horn davs ; hut unless it was to a priest, he wouldn't eontess that much fur tlie world. They are SIS bad as the English that way ; ihey always pretend they know everything. "'Come, Pat,' sais I, 'blaze away now.' Back goes the hind leg agin, up bends the back, and Bull-l^og rises slowly to his fihoulder; and then he stared, and stared, until his arm shook like jialsy. Chee, chee, ehee, went the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as jnuch as to say, ' Why the plague don't you tire ? Vm not a goin* to stand here all day for yon this way;' and then throw in' his tail over his back, he jumped on to tiie next branch. " ' By the piper that played before ^Moses !' sais Put, ' Pll stop your chee, ehee, cheein' for you, you chatterin' spaljjeen of a devil, you.' So he ups with the ritle agin, takes a fair aim at him, shuts both eyes, turns his head round, and tires; and Bull-Dog, tindin' he didn't know how to hold her tight to th'i shoulder, got mad, and kicked him head over heels on the broad o'" his back. Pat got up, a makin' awful wry faces, and begjvn to limi , to show how lame his shoulder was, and to rub his arm, to see if he had one left, and the squirrel ran about the tree hoppin' mad, hollerin' out as loud as it could Bcn.'am, chee, chee, chee. " ' Oh bad luck to you,' sais Pat, ' if you had a been at t'other eend of the gun,' and he rubbed his shoulder agin, and cried like a baby, ' you wouldn't have said chee, chee, chee, that way, I know.' " Now when your gun. Squire, was a knockin* over Blue-nose, and makin' a proper fool of him, and a knockin' over Jonathan, and a spilin' of his bran-new clothes, the English sung out chee, chee, chee, till all was blue agin. You had an excellent gun entirely then : let's see if they will sing out chee, chee, chee, now, wheii we take a shot at tlietn. Do you take ?" and he laid his thumb on his nose, as if perfectly satistied with the application of his s-tory, "Do you take, Squire ? You have an excellent gun entirely, as Pat says. It's what I call puttin' the leake into 'em properly. If you had a written this book fust, the English would have said your gun Avas no good ; it wouldn't have been like the rilles they had seen. Lord, 1 could fell you stories about the English, that would make even them cryin' dt?vils the Mississi[)pi crocodiles laugh, if they wiw to hear 'em " SAM STJCK m F.ynh\SD. •\7 .lb " Pnnlon me, Mr. Slick," I snld, " this is not the tcmpoi which you should visit Fiiij^liuid." " What is the temper,'* he replied, with much warmth, " that they visit us in ? Cuss 'cm ! Look at Dicki-ns ; was there ever a man made so much of, except J^a Fayette? And who was Dickens? Not a Frenchman, that is a IVienil to us ; not a native, that has a claim on us ; not a colonist, who, thouii:h English l)y name, is still an American by birlh, six of one and half a dozen of t'other, and therefore a kind of half-lu'ced hrotlier. No ! he was a cussed JJritishei-; anil what is wus, a liritish author; and yet, because ho was a niiui of ^mmiIus, because os() you were to miss your.shot, and kill that unfortu- nate l)oy ?" '' 1 won't suppose no sncTi thinj?, Sir. I can't miss it. I couldn't miss it if 1 was to try. Hold your head steady, .lube — and if 1 did, it's no «j;reat matter. The oncarcunieised Amalikite ain't .worth over three hundred dollars at the fardest, that's a fact ; and the way he'd pyson a S'hai'k ain't no nuitter. Are you ready, Jnbe ?" " y paint's darter with a good fortin, and we'll soon see whether her I father was a talkin' cant or no, about niggers. Cuss 'em, let any o' these Britishers give me slack, and I'll give 'em ci'anljei'ry for their goose, I know. I'd junq) right down their throat with spurs on, and gallop their sarce out."/ " Mr. Slick, I've done ; I shall say no more ; we part, and part for ever. I had no idea whatever, that a man, whose whole con- due has evinced a kind heart, and cheerful disposition, could have entertained such a revengeful spirit, or given utterance to such un- christian and uncharitable language, as you have used to-day. We part — " "No, we don't," said he; "don't kick afore you are spurred. I guess 1 have feelins as well as other folks have, that's a fact ; one can't helj) being ryled to hear foreigners talk this way ; and these **ritters are enough to make a man spotty on the back. I won't 1 V ] I 1 SAM SLICK IN KNGLANI). a» deny I've fj'it some fjrif, but I iiin't ii^'ly. Vnt mo on tliu buck and I ,aoon vnn\ down, drop in u ^*A\ word and I won't bile over; but dt/t>'l talk bijr, don't thn-jitcn, or 1 curl dircotly." "iNIr. Slick," sni(hl, "ncitliiT my cotnih-ynicn, tbo Novji Sco- tiniH, nor your friends tbc AtnericMn.-', took anyiliinj; Minis-, in our pr«'viou> rcniiirks. because, tlioujih satirical, tliey wen; ;:oo inciilenial to ibo topic \\v were dis«'nssin;r, nnd tlieir wliole tenor sli(»wed tlial wliilo we weie alive to tlic ludicrous, we fully appreciated, and [iroperly vnlued tlieir many exc(dlent iind sterlinj; (plalilies. ]\Iy coutdry- men, for wliose ;;ootl I published them, had the most reason to com- plain, for I took the liberty to apply ridicule to them with no sparinjj band. They understood the motive, and joined in llu; lau|;h, whicli was raised at their expense. L(!t us treat the Kn^rlish in the samo style ; let us keep our temper. John liull is a fjood-natured fellow, and has no objection to a joke, provided it is not made the veblelo of eonveyinp: an insult. Don't adopt Cooper's ma.\im>; nobody ap|)roves of them, on either side of the water; don't be too tbiii- skinned. If the En<;;lish have been amused by the skefelies their touri>ts have drawn of the Yankees, perhaps the Americans may laugh over our sketches of the English. Let us niike both of tli'MTi smile, if we can, and endeavor to ofl'end neiilu'r. If Dickens omit- ted to mention the festivals that were given in honor of his arrival in the States, he was doubtless actuated bv a desire to avoid the appearance of personal vanity. A man cannot well make himself the hero of his own book." " Wcdl, well," said he, "I believe the black ox did tread on my toe that time. I don't know but what you're right. Soft words are good enough in tlieir way, but still they butter no parsnips, as the sayin' is. John may be a good-natured critter, tho' I never see'd any of it yet ; and he may be fond of a joke, and p'rhaps is, scein' that he huw-lmws considerable loud at his own. Let's try him, at all events. We'll soon see how he likes other folks' jokes ; I have my Kcrui)]e about him. I must say I am dubersome whether he will say 'chec, chec, chee,' when he gmv similar to that which . . . . " a irrazier gives an ox — a look which estim; tes the weight and value of the animal ; and I am bound to admit, that the result of that " sizing or laying," as it is technically called, was by no means favorable to tlie Altachc. Mr. Hopewell had evidently not attended to it ; his eye was fixed on the bold and precipitous shore of Wales, and the lofty summits of the everlasting hills, that in the distance, aspired to a companionship with the clouds. 1 took my seat at a little distance from him, and surveyed the scene with mingled I'eelings of curiosity and admiration, until a thick volume of sulpliureoiis smoke from the copper furnaces of Anglesey intercepted our view. " Squire," said he, *' it is impossible tor us to contemplate this country, that now lies before us, wiihout strong emolion. It is our fathorla) d. I recollect when I was a colonist, as you are, we Avere in the habit of applying to it, in common with Englishmen, that endearing appellation, ' Home,' and 1 believe you stid continue to do so in the provinces. Our nursery tales taught our infant lips to lisp in English, and the balhuls, that iirst exci'ci.-eil onr memories, stored the mind with the traditions of our tbrel'aihers ; their litera- ture was our literature, their religion our leligion, their history our history. The battle of Hastings, the niurdir of liecket, the signa- ture of liunymede, the execution at Whiteiiall ; the divines, tlie poets, the orators, the heroes, the martyrs, each and ail were familiar to us. ' '' la approaching this country now, after a lapr^e of many, many years, and approaching it too tor tlie last time, lor mine eyes shall see it no more, 1 cannot describe to you the teelings that agitate ray heart. I go to visit the tombs of my ancestors ; 1 go to my home, Rnd my home knovveth me no more. \ Great and good, and brave i' i ) 14 u I 1 i" ' t ri u THE ATTAClll, OR, I and free are the English ; and may God grant tliat they may evei con tinue so !'/ 1 '* I cordially join in that prayer, Sir," said I. " You liavc a ' country of your own. The old colonics having ripened into matu- rity, formed a distinct and separate family, in tin; great connuunity of mankind. You are now a nation of }'Ourselves, and your attach- ment to England is of..course sul)ordinate to that of your own coun- try ; you view it as a place that was in days of yore tin; home of your forefathers ; we regard it as the paternal estate, cont-'nuing to "!> call it ' Hume,' as you have just now observed. We owe it a debt of gratitude 'that not only cannot be repaid, biit is too great for ex- pression. Their armies protect us within, and their fleets defend us, and our commerce without. Their goveriunent is not only paternal and indulgent, but is wholly gratuitous. We neitiier pay these forces, nor feed them, nor clothe them. We not only, i-aise no tuxes, but are not expected to do so. The blessings of true religion are diffused among us, by the ])ious liberality of England, and a collegiate establishment at Windsor, supported by Jiritish funds, has for years supplied the Church, tiie liar, and the Legislature with scholars and gentlemen. Where national assistance has failed, private contribution has volunteered its aid, and . \eans are never wanting for any useful or beneficial object. " Our condition is a most enviable one. The history of the _ wo rld has no example to offer of such noble disinterestedness and such liberal nde, as that exhibited by Great liritain to her colonies. If the policy of the Colonial Otiice is not always good (which I fear is too much to say), it is ever liberal ; and if we do not mutually derive all the benefit we might from the connection, we, at least, I'eap more solid advantages than we have a right to expect, and more, I am afraid, than our conduct always deserves. 1 liope the Secretary of the Colonies may have the advantage of making your acquaintance, Sir. Your experience is so great, you might give him a vast deal of useful information, which he could obt:viu from no one else." " Minister," said Mr. Slick, who had just mounted the compan- ion-ladder, *" will your honor," touching his hat, "jist look at your honor's plunder, and see it's all right ; remember me, Sir ; thank your honor. This way, Sir; let rae help your honor down. Re- member me again. Sir. Tliank your honor. Now you may go and break your neck, your honor, as soon as you please ; for I'vo got all out of you I can squeeze, that's a fact. That's English, Squire — that's English servility, which they call civility, and Eng- lish meanness and beggin', which they call parquisite. Who was that you wanted to see the Minister, that I hcerd you a talkii^' of wlien I come on deck ?" " The Se^^retary of the Colonies," I said. i JiaWB8Jgg ! Jl SAM SLICK IS ENGLAND. 46 " Oil, for goodness sake, don't send that crittur to him," said he, " or Minister will have to pay him for his visit, more, p'rhaps, than he can afford. John Russell, that had the ribbons afore him, ap- pointed a settler as a member of Legislative Council to Prince Edward's Island, a berth that has no pay, that takes a feller three months a year from home, and has a horrid sight to do ; and what do you think he did ? Now jist guess. You give it up, do you ? Well, you may as well, for if you was five Yankees biled down to one, you wouldn't guess it. ' Remember Secretary's clerk,' says he, a toucliiu' of his hat, ' give him a little tip of thirty pound ster- ling, your lionor.' Well, colonist had a drop of Yankee blood in him, which was about one-third molasses, and, of course, one-third more of u man than they commonly is, and so he jist ups and says, ' I'll see you and your clerk to Jericho and beyond Jordan fust. The ollice ain't worth the fee. Take it and sell it to some one else that has more money nor wit.' He did, upon my soul. " No, don't send State-Secretary to Minister, send him to me at eleven o'clock to-night, for 1 shall be the top-loftiest feller above that time you've seen this while past, I tell you. Stop till I touch land once more, that's all ; the way I'll stretch my legs ain't no matter." He then uttered the negro ejaculation, " Chah ! — chah !" and putting his arms a-kimbo, danced in a most extraordinary style to the music of a sonir, which he eave with irreat expression : '6' expr( " Oh hab you nebor heerd ob dc battle ob Orleans, Where de dandy Yankee lads gave de Dritisliois de buansl Oh de Louisiana boys, dey did it pretty slick, When dey eotch olc I'ackenhaiu and rode him up a creek. Wee my zippy dooden dooden doodeii, doodcn dooden dey, Wee my zippy dooden doodeii dooden, dooden dooden dey. " Oh yes, send Secretary to me at eleven or twelve, to-night — rU be in tune then, jist about up to consart pitch. I'll smoke with him, or drink with him, or swap stories with him, or wrastle with him, or make a fool of him, or lick him, or anything he likes-; and when I've done, I'll rise up, tweak tne fbre-top-knot of my head by the nose, bow pretty, and say, 'Remember me, your honor? Don't for.ccet the tip?' Lord, how 1 long to walk into some o' these chaps, and ^ive 'em the beans ! and I will afore I'm many days older, hang me if I don't. I shall bust, I do expect ; and if I do, them that ain't drownded will be scalded, I know. Chah ! — chah 1 t h I •? Oh dc British name is Bull, and de French name is Frojj, And noisy c.itters too, when a braggin' on a log, — But 1 is an alligator, a iloatin' down stream. And I'll chaw both the bullies up, as I would an ii e-cream : Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. Wee my zippy dooden dooden dooden, dooden dooden dey. ;, H ii 1 .) I ^i' iQ THE ATTACH^ ; OR, a Ye?!, I've l*- en pent up in that dr awer- like lookin' bei •th, till I've growed like u pine-tree with its brn ncheji ofl- —straight lip and down. My lo^-' IS like a p air conij )asscs that 's got wet ; t hey are rusty on the hii ijics, and won't work. I'll play leap-frog up the M If ft m .11 street, over every teller's head, till 1 get to the Liner's Hotel ; I liope I may be shot if I don't. Jube, you villain, stand still there on the deck, and hold stiff, you nigger. Warny once — warny twice — warny three times; now 1 come." And he ran forward, and putting a hand on each shoulder, jumped over him. "^ Turn round agin, you young sucking Satan, you; and don't give one mite or morsel, or you might ' break massa's precious neck, p'rhaps. AVarny once — warny twice — warny three times." And he repeateil the feat again. ''That's the way I'll shin it up street, with a hop, skip, and a jump. Won't I make Old liull stare, when he finds his Head under my coat tails, and me ji!^t makin' a lever of him? He'll think he has run foul of a snag, /know. Lord, I'll shack right over tlieir heads, as they do over a colonist ; only, when t/ic>/ do, they never say warny wunst — cuss 'em, they ain't civil enough for that. They arn't paid for it — therq^ is no i)ar(iuisite to be got by it. Won't I tuck in the Champaine to-night, that's all, till 1 get the steam up right, and make the paddles work? AVon't I have a lark of the ' rael Kentuck breed ? Won't I trip up a i)oliceman's heels, thunder the kiK^ckers of the street doors, and ring the bells and leave no card? Won't I have a siiy at a lamp, and then off hot foot to the hotel ? Won't I say, ' Waiter, how ilare you do that ?' " " What, Sir ?" " ' Tread on my foot.' " • I didn't. Sir.' " ' You did. Sir. Take that ?' knock him down like wink, and help him up on his feet agin with a kick on his western eend. Kiss the bar-maid, about the quickest and wickedest she ever heerd tell of, and then ofl' to bed as sober as a judge. ' Chamber-maid, bring a pan of coals and air my bed.' ' Yes, Sir.' Foller close at her heels, jist put a hand on each short rib, tickle her till she spills the red hot coals all over the floor, and begins to cry over 'em to put 'em out, whip the candle out of her hand, leave her to her lamentations, and then off to roost in no time. And when I get there, won't I strike out all abroad — take up the room of three men with their clothes on — hiy all over and over the bed, and feel once more I am a free man and a ' Gentlcmun at large.' " «' IS. I SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 47 CHAPTER VIII. SEEING LIVERPOOL. 3* On looking back to any given period of our life, wc generally find that the intervening time appeal's much i^horter than it really is. We see at once the starting-post and the terminus, and the mind takes in at one view the entire space. But this observation is more peculiarly applicible to a short pas- sage jcross the Atlantic. Knowing how great the distance is, and accustomed to consider the voyage as the work of many weeks, we are so astonished at finding ourselves transported in a few days, from one continent to another, that we can hardly credit the evi- dence of our own senses. Who is there tluit, on landing, has not asked himself the ques-. lion, " Is it ])ossible that I am in Kngland ? It seems but as yes- terday that I was in America, to-day 1 am in Europe. Is it u dream, or a reality ?" The river and the docks — the country and the town — the peop\o and their accent — the verdure and the climate are all new to me. I have not been prepai-lace 1 was taught to cull home j[Kf other homes, whos(; Hag I calhd our Hag ? (no, 1 am \\ rong, I have been accustomed to call our ilag, the Hag of l^igland ; our '.'hurch, not the Church of Nova Scotia, nor the Colonial, nor the Episcopal, nor the Established, but the Church of England.) Is it if' I 4 48 THE ATTACHE; OR, *^^ \then that England, whose language I speak, whose subject I am, the mistress of tl'e world, the country of Kings and Queens, and nobles and [)relates, and sages and heroes ?/ I have read of it, so have 1 read of old Rome ; but tlui sight of Rome, Cu'sur, and the Senate, would not astonish m^more than lliat of London, the Queen and the Parliament. Both are yet ideal; the imagination h;is sketched them, but when were its sketches ever true to nature? 1 have a veneration for both, b^it, gentle reader, exeuseJ the confessions of an old man, for I have a soft spot in the heart yet, J love old England. 1 love its institutions, its literature, its peojjle. love its law, because, while it protects property, it ensures liberty. 1 love its church, not only because I believe it is the true churclj. but becjiuse though ai-med with power, it is tolerant in practice. I love its constitution, because it combines the stability of a monarchy, with the most valuable peculiarities of a republic, and without viola- ting nature by attemi)ting to make men equal, wisely Ibllow its dic- tates, by securing freedom to all. I like the pcoi)le, though not all in the same degree. They are not what they were. Dissent, reform and agitation have altered their character. It is necessary to distinguish. A rea/ Englishman is generous, loyal and brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. When I meet such a man as this, I cannot but re- spect him ; but when I find that in addition to these good qualities, he has the further recommendation of being a churchman in hia religion and a Ty^v in his politics, I know then that his heart is in the right phu'ej^^ml I love him. // The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at his partic- ular request, tiiat he might be assured they contained nothing that would injure his election as President of the United States, in the event of the SHckville ticket becoming hereafter the favorite one. v^his, he said, was on the cards, strange as it might seem, for making a fool of John IJull and turning the laugh on him, would be sure to take and be popular The last paragraphs he said, he affectioned and approbated with all his hearty "It is rather tall talkin' that," said he; "I like its patronisin* tone. There is sunthin' goodish in a colonist patronisin' a Britisher. It's turnin' the tables on 'em ; it's sarvin' 'em out in their own May. Lord, I think I see Old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with a dead aim, and hear him say, ' Come, this is cuttin' it rather fat.' Or, as the feller said to his second wife, when she tapped him on the shoulder, ' Marm, my first wife was a Pursy, and she never presumed to take that liberty.' Yes, that's good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! you'll win if you get in fuai, see if you don't. Patronisin' a Britisher!!! A critter that has Lucifi'r's pride, Arkwrighf's wealth, and Bedlam's sense, ain't it rich ? Oh, wake snakVs and walk your cluiikL- will you ! Give me your liggery-lbur Squire, I'll ' ! SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 49 go in up to tho handle for you. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or mud-scraper, iipy way, you damn please, I'm your man." But to return lu my narrative. I was under the necessity of de- voting;; the day next afler our landing at Liverpool, to writing l(;lti'rs annonueing my sale arrival to my anxious friends in Nova Scot lit-, and in dilFerent parts of England ; and also some few on matters of business. Mr. Slick was very urgent in liis request, that I should defer this work till the evening, and accompany him in a stroll about the town, and at last became quite peevish at my reiterated refusal. " You remind me. Squire," said he, '* of Rufus Dodge, our great lie nmrchant of Boston, and as you won't wsUk, p'raps you'll talk, so I'll jist tell you the story." *'I was onc^ at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is just a shori distance above the Falls. Out of the winders, you have a view of the splendid white waters, or the rapids of foam, afore the river takes its everlastin' leap over the cliff. " Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the Falls : he said he did'nt care much about them hisself, seein' that he warn't in the mill business ; but, as he was a goin' to England, he didn't like to say he hadn't been there, especially as ^11 the English knowe^ about America was, that there was a groat big waterfall called Niag- ara, an everlastin' almighty big river called Mississippi, and a parfecl pictur' of a wappin' big man calhid Kentuckian tiiere. /Both t'other ones he'd seen over and over agin, but Niagara He'd never sot eyes on. " So as soon as he arrives, he goes into the public room, and looks at the white w aters, and sais he, ' Waiter,' sais he, * is them the Falls down there ?' a-pintin' by accident in the direction where the Falls actilly was. " ' Yes, Sir,' sais the waiter. " ' Hem !' sais Rufe, * them's the Falls of Niagara, eh ! So I've seen the Falls at last, eh ! Well, its pretty too : they a'int bad, that's a fact. So them's the 1 alls of Niagara ! How long is it afore the stage starts.'" "* An hour, Sir.' " ' Go and book me for Boston, and then bring me a paper.* «< Yes, Sir.' " Well he got his paper and sot there a readin' of it, and every now and then, he'd look out of the winder and say : ' So them's tho Falls of Niagara, eh ? Well, it's a pretty little mill privilege that too, ain't it ; but it ain't just altogether worth comin' so far to see. So I've seen the Falls at last !' " Arter a while in comes a Britisher. " ' Waiter,' says he, ' how far is it to the Falls?' " * Little over half a mile, Sir.' " * Which way do you get there ''' o 60 THE attacuk; or, l' i' hi j : n *' * Turn to flic r\<^ht, aiul then to the loft, nnd tlicn '^o a-licail.* " Rule lio.iril all this, aiul it kiiuU'r sfcnu'd dark to liiin; so artei oypherin' it ovit in liis head a bit, ' Waiter,' says he, ' aint tiicm the i''alls ol'^Niagara, 1 sec there?' - ' No, Sir.' " ' Well, that's tarnation all over now. Not the I'alls ?' "*No, Sir.' " 'Why, you don't mean to say, tliat them are ain't the Falls?' "'Yes, I do, Sir.' " ' Heaven and airth ! I've come hundreds of miles a purpus to to see 'em, and nothin' else ; not a bit of trade, or speekelatiun, or any airthly thing but to see them cussed Falls, and come as near as lUO ceiit.s to a «lollar, startin' off without sein' 'em arter all. If it hadn't a been for that are Britisher I was sold, that's a fact. Can I lun down there and back in half an hour in time lor the stage?' ♦' ' Yes, Sir, but you will hsive no time to see them.' '" See 'em, cuss 'em, I don't want to see 'em, I tell you. I wani to look at 'em, I want to say I was to the Falls, that's all. Give my my hat, quick ! So them ain't the Falls? J ha'n'tseed the Falls of Niagara after all. Wiiat a devil of a take-in that is, ain't it?' And he dove down stairs like a Newfoundland dojj into a pond arter a li'tone, and out of sight in no time. "Now, you are as like liufe, as two peas. Squire. You want to say you was to Liverpool, but you don't want to see nothin.' " Waiter." "Sir." " Is this Liverpool, I sec out of the winder ?" " Yes, Sir." " Guess I have seen Liverpool then. So this is the great city of Liverpool, eh ? When does the train start for London ?" " In half an hour. Sir." " Book me for London then, for I have been to Liverpool and seen the city. Oh, Uxko your place. Squire, you have seen Liver- pool; and if you see as much of all other i)laces, as you have of this here one, afore you return home, you will know most as much of England as them do that never was there at all. " 1 am sorry too, you won't go. Squire," added he, " for minister seems kinder dull." " Don't say another word, Mr. Slick," said I ; evcrythi g shall give way to liim." And locking up my writing-desk I said: "I am i'cady." " Stoj), Sipiij'e," said he, " I've got a favor to ask of you. Don't for gracious sake, say nothin' before iix". Jlopeweil ab(»ut that 'ere lark 1 had last night arter landin', it would sorter worry him, and set him ott a-]) reach in', and Vd rather he'd strike me any time amo-t than lectui"', tor he does it so teudei' and kiirdly, il hurts my ieelins SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 51 like^ u coiisidorable sum. I've had a i)rctty liow-do-ye-do about it this inornin', and iiav(3 had to plank down handsuni', atid do tho thing g(!nt(^el ; but Mister Landlord found, I reckon, he had no fool to deal with, nothiT. He comes to nie, as soon as I was cleverly up this mornin', lookin' as full of importance, as Jube Japy i did when I put the Legation button on iiim. " ' l»ad business this, Sir,' says he ; 'never had such a scene in my house before, Sir ; have had great dilliculty to jirevent my sarvants takin' the law of you." " ' Ah,' sais I to myself, ' I see how the eat jumps ; here's a little tid bit of extortion now ; but you won't fmd that no go, I don't think.' " ' You will have to salisly them, Sir,' says he, ' or take the con- sequences.' " ' Sartainly,' said I, ' any thing you please ; I leave it entirely to you ; just name what you think proper, and I will liquidate it.' " I said, 1 knew you Avoidd behave like a gentleman. Sir,' said he, ' for, sais I, don't talk to me of law, name it to the gentleman, and he'll do what is right ; he'll behave liberal, you may depend.' " ' You said right,' sais 1, • and now. Sir, what's the damage?' " ' Fifty pounds, I shoidd thiidc about the thing. Sir,' said he. " ' Certainly,' said I, ' you shall have the fifty pounds, but you must give me a receipt in full for it.' " ' By all means,' said he, and he was a cuttin' olF full chisel to get a stamp, when 1 sais, 'Stop,' sais I, 'uncle, mind and put in there- ceipt, the bill of items, and charge 'em s(!})arate!' '" Bill of items?' sais he. " ' Y"es,' sals I, ' let me sec what each is to get. Well, there's the waiter, now. Say to knockin' down the waiter and kicking him, so much ; then there's the barmaid so much, and so on. I make no objection, 1 am willin'to pay all you ask, but 1 want to include all, for I intend to post a copy of it in the elegant cabins of each of our New York Liners. This house convenes the Americans — they all know me. I want them to know how their Attache was imposed on, and if any American ever sets foot in this cussed house agin I will paj his bill, and post that up too, as a letter of credit for him.' "' You wouldn'nt take that advantage of me, Sir?' said he. " ' I take no advantage,' sais 1. • ' I'll pay you what you ask, but you shall never take advantage agin of another free and enlightened American citizen, I can tell you.' " ' You must keep your money then, Sir,' said he, ' but this is not a fair deal ; no gentleman would do it.' " • What's fair, I am willin' to do.' sais I ; ' what's onfair, is what you want to do. 2sow, look here: 1 knocked the waiter down; here is two sovereigns i'or him ; .1 won't pay him nothin' tor the kickin,' for that I give, him out of contempt, for not defendin' of himself. Here's three sovereigns for the bar-maid ; she don't ought to have 62 THE A'lTACHfi; OR, nothing', forHlic ncvorgot so innocent a kiss nforo, in nil her liorn days I know, for I did'iit uwiiw no harm, and sho. novcr ;,'()t so jrood a one atlji-c Mother, tliut's a tiict ; but then /oij;^lit to pay, I do sup- pose, bci'.iiisi! I ha(hi't ()ii;;ht to treat a hidy that way ; it wn-^ onlian- 8um', that's tiu't ; and besides, it tante right to {j^ive the galls a taste for such things. They come fast enough in the nateral way, do kisses, without inokilatin folks for 'em. And iiere's a sovereign for the scoldin' and siscerarin' yon gavnds ; and witli liuil, I tinned to run out, hut Lord lovo you, I couldn't nni. The sioncs was ull wet and slimy, and onriateral slippy, and 1 e\pec'te«l every minute, I should heels uj) and ju;o lor it : atween them two critters, the (ilio-t and the juicy leu evy face is yet ! Waiter, half a pint of clear cocktail ; somethin' to warm me. Oh, that cold hand 1 Did you ever touch a dead num's hand ? it's awful cold, you may de- pend. Is there any marks on my i'ace ? Do you see the tracks of the lingers there '?' " ' No, Sir,' sais I, ' 1 can't say I do.' " ' Well, then, I feel them there,' sais he, ' as plain as any- thing.' " ' Stranger,' sais I, ' it was nothiu' but some poor no-souled crit- ter, like yourself, that was skeered a'most to death, and watited to be heli)exl out, that's all.' " ' Skeered !' said he : ' sarves him right, then ; he might have knowed how to feel for other folks, and not funkify them so peskily ; T. don't keer if he never gets out ; but 1 have my doubts about it's bein' a livin' human, I tell you. H 1 hadn't a renounced the devil and all his works that time, I don't know what the upshot would have been, for Old Scratch was there too. I saw him as plain as I 54 THE attache; or, ■W-f h i ! see /ou ; he ran out afore me, and couldn't stop or look back, as long as I said catechism. He was in his old shape of the sarpent ; • he was the matter of a yard long, and as thick round as my arm, and travelled belly-flounder fashion ; when I touched laud, ho dodged into an eddy, and out of sight in no time. Oh, there is no mistake, I'll take my oath of it ; I see him, I did, upon my soul. It was the old gentleman hisself ; he come there to cool hisself. Oh, it was the devil, that's a fact.' " ' It was nothin' but a fresh-water eel,' sais I ; ' I have seen thousands of 'em there ; for the crevices of thenii rocks .are chock full of 'em. , IIow can you come for to go for to talk arter that fashion .'' You are a disgrace to our great nation, you great lummo- tkin coward, you. \An American citizen is afeerd of nothin' but a ; bad spekilation, or bein' found out.'/ " Well, that posed him — he seemed kinder bothered, and looked down. • " ' An eel, eh ! "Well, it mought be an eel,' sais I, ' that's a fact. I didn't think of that ; but then if it was, it was godmother granny Eells, that promised I should renounce the devil and all his works, that took that ^liape, and Come to keep me to my bargain. She died fifty years ago, poor old soul, and never kept com[)any with Indgians, or niggers, or any such trash. Heavens and airth ! I don't wonder the Falls wakes the dead, it makes such an everlastin' almighty noise, does Niagara. AVaiter, more cocktail — that last was as weak as water.' " ' Yes, Sir,' and he swallercid it like wink. " ' The stage is ready, Sir.' " ' Is it ?' said h}y and he jumped in, all wet as he was ; for time is money, and he didn't want to waste neither. As it drove off, I heerd him say, • Well, them's the Falls, eh ! So I have seen the Falls of Niagara and felt 'em too, eh !' " Now, we are better off than lliifus Dodge was, Squire ; for he hante got wet, and we hante got frightened, but we can look out o' the winder and say, ' Well, that's Liverpool, eh ! So I have — seen Liverpool.' " » BAM SITCK IN ENGLANl*. 55 .J't ' ■' /Us ■ /if CHAPTER IX CHANGING A NAME. The rain having confined us to the house this afternoon, we sat aver our wine after dinner longer tlian usual. Among the dilFercnt topics that were discussed, the most prominent was the state of iIk; politiciil parties in this country. Mr. Slick, who paid great defer- ence to the opinions of Mr. Hopewell, was anxious o ascertain from him what he thought upon the subject, in order to regulate his cou- iuct and conversation 1^' it hereafter. "■ Minister," s^iid he, " what do you think of the polities of the British ?" " I don't think about them at all, Sam. I hear so much of such aiatters at home, that 1 am heartily tired of them ; our political world is divided into two classes, the knaves and the dupes. Don't iet us talk of such exciting things." " But, Minister," said Mr, Slick, " holdiu' the high and dignified etation I do, as Attache, they will be a-pumpiu' me ibr everlastinly, will the great men here, and they think a plaguy sight more of our opinion tTian you are aware on ; we have tried all them things they are a javvin' about here, and they naterally want t* know the re- sults. Cooper says not one Tory Sidled on him when he was to England, but Walter Scott ; and that, I take it, was more lest folks should think he was jealous of him, than anything else ; they jist cut him as dead as a skunk ; but among the Whigs lie was quite an oracle on ballot, universal suffrage, and all other democratic institu- tions." " Well, he was a ninny, then, was Cooper, to go and blart it all out to the world that way ; for if no Tory visited him, I shoidd like you to ask him, the next time you see him, how many gentlemen called upon him ? Jist ask him that, and it will stop him from writing such stuff any more." " But, INIinister, jist tell us now, here you are, as a body might say in Enghuid, now what ai-e you ?" *' I am a man, Sam : — Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto." « Well, what's all that when it's fried ?" " Why that when away from home, I am a citizen of the world. i r ».. 66 THE ATTACHB ; Ui. ^ r : i I belong to no party, but take an interest in the wliole human family." " Well, Minister, if you choose to sing dumb, you can ; but I should like to have you answer me one (question now ; and if you won't, why you must jist do t'other thing, that's all. Are you a Consarvative ?" " No." •' Are you a "Whig ?" " No." " A Radical ?" « God forbid !" " What in ,. .tur' are you, then ?" , " A Tory." " A Tory ! Well, I thought that a Tory and a Consarvative were, as the Indgians say, * all same one brudder.' Where is the difference ?" " You will soon find that out, Sara : go and talk to a Consarva- tive as a Tory, and you will ilnd he is a Wl^ig ; go and talk to him again as a Whig, and you will find he is a Tory. They are, lor all the world, like a sturgeon. There is very good beet-steaks in a sturgeon, and very good fish, too, and yet it tante either fish or flesh. I don't like taking a new name — it looks amazing like taking new principles, or, at all events, like loosenin' old ones, and 1 hante seen the creed of this new sect yet — 1 don't know wluvt its tenets are, nor where to go and look for 'em. It strikes me they don't accord with the Tories, and yet arn't in tune with the Whigs, but are half a note lower than the one, anh ; they would have made a Bishop of you, and shoved you into the Housa ! i ■ 1 }■'- '{'' ti - I 58 THE ATTACH^; OR, 0. ./ordd, black apron, lawn sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. ' The Right Reverend, the Lord Bishop of Sliekville :' wouldn't it look well on the back of a letter, eh ? or your signature to on that, <( t •nt to me, signed ' Joshua Sliekville.' It sounds better, 1 'Old Minister,' don't it?" if you go for to talk that way, Sara, I am done ; but I will show )0U that tlie Tories are the men to govern this great nation. A Tory I may say ' nosciOir a sociis.' " " What in nalur is that, when it's biled and the skin took off?" asked jNIr. Slick. " Why, is it possible you don't know that ? Have you forgotten that common schoolboy phrase ?" " Guess I do know ; but it don't tally jist altagethcr nohow, as it were. Known as a Socialist, isn't it ?" "If, Sir," said Mr. Hopewell, with much earnestness, ^If, instead of ornamenting your conversation with cant terms, and miserable slang, picked up from the lowest refuse of our population, both east and west, vou had cultivated your mind, and eniiched it with quota- tions from classical writers, you would have been more like an Attache, and less like a peddling clockmaker than you are.'V " Minister," said Mr. Slick, " I was only in joest, but you are in airnest. What you have said is too true for a joke, and I feel it. I was only a sparrin' ; but you took off the gloves, and felt my short ribs in a way that has given me a stitch in the side. It tante fair to kick that way afore you are spurred. You've hurt me considerable." "Sam lam old, narvous, and irritable. I was wrong to speak unkindly to you, very wrong indeed, and I am sorry for it; but don't teaze me no more, that's a good lad ; for I feel worse tlum you do about it. I beg your pardon, I " " Well," said Mr. Slick, " to get back to what we was a sayin', for you do talk like a book, that's a fact; ^noscitur a sociis,' . the difference? If there is no difference, it is a viere jupj^". to cJuaige the name : if there is a difference, the word is wutsc i!>au o juggle, fur it dor^t import any." " Tell you what," said Mr. SIkJc, " I heerd an old critter to Hali- fax once describe 'em beautiful. cVtIe said he could tell a man's poli- ticks by his shirt. * A Tory, Sir,' said be, for he was a pompious old boy wa« old Blue-Nose ; ' a Tory, Sir,' said he, * is a gentlemaB 1^ ao THE ATTACHE; OR, every inch of hin>, stock, lock, and 1 'irrel ; and he puts a clenti frill dlilrt on every day A Whifj, Sir,' says Ijc, ' is a gentleman every jther inch of him, and he puts an onfrilled one on (nery other day. A Radical, S'" lin't no gontlenian at all, and he only })uts one on of It Sunday. J a Chartist, Sir, is a loafer; he never puts one on till ine old one u fc hold together no longer, and droj).s olf in i)ieces.' 'x/^ " Pooh !" said Mr. Hopewell, " now don't talk nonsense ; but as I was a-goin' to ,say, I am a plain man, and a straight-ibrward man, Sam ; what I say, I mean ; and wiiat I mean, I say. Private and public life are §|jbject to the same rules ; and truth and manliness are two qualities that will carry you through this world much better than policy, or tact, or expediency, or any other word that ever was devised to conceal, or mystify a deviation from the straight line. They have a sartificate of character, these Consarvatives, in having the support of the Tories ; but that don't quite satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean no more than this, arter all — they are the best sarv- ants we have ; but not as good as we want. Ilowevi^r, I shall know more about it soon ; and wlien I do, I will give you my opinion can- didly. One thing, however, i& certain, a change in the institutions of a country I could accede to, approve, and support, if necessary and good ; but I never can approve of either an individuiU or a party — ' changing a name.' " CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT. The following day being dry, we walked out to view the wonders of this great commercial city of England, Liverpool. The si2 THE ATTACTlii; OU, I ii H tousa about; that nipplo-gnilotl, oiio-oyed, one-armed littlo naval crillfv?" " Do yon menu liovd Nelson ?" "I (l(t," f^aiil lie; and poinlinj; to liis nionnnicnt, he conliuucd. " 'rii";r he is as hi;;- as Hit', liv(! I'cet ii(»lhin', willi his shoes on. Now, (waniine tiiat nioinnnent, and (ell nie if ihe l«in;;lish don't know how to hra^, as well as some other folks, and whetiier they don't Itrau too snnitimes, when they hante j;t)l no ri^ht to. Ther(^ is lonr li;4nres tlu re a. representing th(! lour »iiiarters of the ^lohe in chains, and anic ; tlieni Anieriea, a eron<'hin' down, and n-hejr^iu' for life, like a nu'an heatlieu Jn^in. \Vell,jistdo the civil now, and (ell me when that little bni;jj\(! tlin sixteen Inuidiedlli part of an iiicli, I will fidl to and nialu; iniiice-nieai of you in less than li.'ilf no lime.' I don't think there never \va-; notliiii' so Itinl as this, ever seen since the days of (»li| diidily Ad:uii down lo this |ireseiit bl your ^JVi'ison iiinunmeuf,' and let us alone. So e.ome, now !" Amidst nnn'li that was poaiv-e, and inon; thiit was rxa;.'';,'e rated, therii was still sonie f()nn(lation for the rciniarks oi'thc, Attaehe. " Yon arro;jjat(! a little, too nnnrh to youiselves," J observed, " in considering the United Stat«!S as all America. At thd, until something shall occur illustrative of tlie objects I have , in view. On this occasion I shall select from my diary a description of the laborers' cottaj^e, and the parish churcli ; because the one shows the habits, tastes, and condition of the poor of this country, in contrast ' with that of America — and the other, the relative means of religious i instruction, and its efliect on the lower orders. On the Saturday morning, while preparing to resume our jour- ney, wliich was now nearly lialf completed, Mr. Hopewell expressed a desire to remain at the inn wliere we were, until the following Monday. As the day was iine, he said he should like to ramble about the neighborhood, and enjoy the fresh air. His attention was soon drawn to some very beautiful new cottages. " Tliese," said he, " are no doubt erected at tite expense, and for the gratification of some great landed pro|)rietor. Tlu^y arc not the abodes of ordinary laborers, but designed for some ftivorite de- jjendant or aged servant. They are expensive toys, but still tliey are not witliout their use. They diffuse a taste among the peasan- try — they present them with models, which, thougli they cannot ii^itate in costliness of material or finisli, they can copy in arrange- ment, and in that sort of decoration wliich flowers, and vines, and culture, and care can give. Let us seek one which is peculiarly the poor man's cottage, atid let us go in and see who and what tliey are, how they live, and above all, how they think and talk. Here is a lane — let us follow it, till we come to a liabitation." We turned into a grass road, bounded on either side by a high straggling thorn h(;dge. At its termination was an irregular cottage with a thatched roof, which projected over the windows in front. The latter were latticed with diamond-shaped panes of glass, and were four in number, one on each side of tlie door, and two just under the roof. The door was made of two transverse parts, tlie upper half of which was open. On one side was a basket-like cage containing a magpie, and on the other, a cat lay extended on a bench, dozing in the warmth of the sun. The blue smoke, curling upwards from a crooked chimney, afforded proof of some one being witliin. We therefore opened a little gate, and proceeded through a neat OHM S»«ilClC llf ENQLAND. e5 garden, in which flowcra atid vegetables were intermixed. It had ft guy a|)piiaranc3 from tlio pear, apple, thorn and eh(^rry being all in full bloom. We were received ut tlie door by a middle-aged woman, with the ruddy glow of health on her cheeks, and dressed in coarse, plain, but remarkably neat and siiilabh', attiri'. As this was a cottage selected at random, and visited without previous inti- mation of our intention, I took particular noti(!0 of everything I saw, because I regarded its appearance as a fair specimen of its constant and daily state. Mr. lIopew(;ll needful no introduction. His appearance told what he was. His gnat stature and erect bearing, his intelligent and amiable face, his noble ibrehcud, his beautiful snow-whito locks, his precise and anticpie dress, his simpli(!ily of manner, every- thing, in short, about him, at once attracted atlenlion and conciliated liwoi". Mrs. Hodgins, for such was her name, nu'cived us with that mix- ture of resp(!ct and easei which showed slu; was accustomed to con- verse with her superiors. She was dressed in a blue homespun gown (the sleeves of which uere drawn up to her elbows, and the lower part tui-ked through her pocket-hole), a black stulf petticoat, black stockings, and shoes with llie sol(!3 more than half an inch t^iick. She wore also a large while apron, and a neat and by no mear.s unbecoming cap. She intbrmed us her hu.-.band was a gar- dener's laborer, that suj)ported his family by his daily woi-k, and by the proceeds of the little garden attached to the house, and invited us to come in and sit down. The apartnu-nt into which the door opened was a kitchen or common room. On one side was a large tire-])lace, the mantel- piece or shelf of which was tilled with brass cHidlesticks, large and small, some queer old-fashioned lam[)S, simllers and trays, polished to a degree of brightness that was dazzling. A dresser was carried round the wall, filled with plates and dishes, and underneath were exhibited the ordinary culinary ulensiLs, in excellent order. A small table stood betbre the lire, with a cloth of spotless whiteness spread ui)on it, as if in pr(q)aration lor a meal. A few stools completed the furniture. Passing through this pliice, we were shown into the parlor, a small room with u sanded lloor. Against the sides were placed soifte old, dark, and highly-polished chairs, of anticpie form and rude workmanship. The walls were decorated with several colored prints, illustrative of the Pilgrim's Progress, and hung in small red frames of about six inches square. The lire-place was fdled with moss, and its mantel-shelf had its china sheep and shepherdesses, and a small looking-glass, the whole being surmounted by a gun hung transversely. The Lord's Prayer and the Ten Command- ments worked in worsted, were suspended in a wooden frame be- 66 I V » n g s THE ATTACH ii; OR, twfccn the windows, which had whiUi muslin hlind.^, and opened on hinjTes, like a door. A euphoiird made to fit the corner, in a man* ner to econoniiz(! room, was filled w ith china mng-t, cups and saucers of dilK'rent si/e.s and pattern.s, some old tea-spoons and a plated tea-pot. Then; was a pmall lahh; opposite to the window, which contained halt' a dozen books. One of these was large, handsomely boimd, und decorated with gilt-edged paper. Mr. llopciwdl opened it, and exi)ressed great satisfaction at finding such an edition of a liible in such a house. JNIrs. Ilodgins explained that this wius a present from her eldest son, who had thus approi)riated his first earnings to the gratification of his mother. "Creditable to you both, dear," said INIr, Hopewell: "to you, because it is a proof how well you have insti'uctcd him ; and to him, that he so well aj)preciated and so faithfully i cmembered those les- sons of duty." Ho then inquired into tlu; state of her family, whether the boy who was training u peacrh-tree against the entl of the house was her son, and many other matters not necessjuy to record with tho same precision that 1 have enumerated the furniture. •'Oh, here is a pretty little child !" said he. "Come here, dear, and shake hands along with me. What beautii'ul hair she has! and she looks so clean and nice, too. Everything and everybody here is so neat, so tidy, and so appropriate. Kiss me, dear ; and then talk to me; ibr 1 lovi; little children. ' Sufi'er them t(» come unto me,' said our Master, 'Ibr of sueh is the kingdom oi" Heaven :* that is, that we should resemble these little ones in our inno- cenc<;." He then took her on his knee. " Can you say the Lord's Prayer, dear?" " Yes, Sir." " Very good. And the Ten Commandments ?" « Yes, Sir." "Who taught you?" " My mother, Sir ; and the parson taught me the Catechism." " Why, Sam, this child can say the Lt)rd's Prayer, the Ten Com- mandments, and the Catechism. Ain't this beautiful? Tell me the fifth, dear." And the child repeated it distinctly and accurately. * " Right. JN'ow, dear, always bear that in mind, especially towards your mother. You have an excellent mother ; her cares and her toils are many ; and amidst them all, how well she has done her duty to you. The only way she can be repaid, is to find that you are what filie desii'es you to be, a good girl. God commands this return -lo be made, and otJ'ers you the reward of length of days. Here is a jjiece of money for you. And now, deai'," placing her again upon her feet, cv so vid no ne.>- ha) am H( kn< its i ( BAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 67 •'you nrvor snw o old a man as n\(\ and nnvor will a|»ain ; and one, too. that camo from a far-olV country, tliitc tiionsaiul niilc.^ oil'; it would (<»kn yo i a lon;^ timo to count tlirco thousand ; it is so far. Whenever you «lo what you ou^^ht not, think of tho advico of tho •old Mini^ter.'" Here Mr. Slick beckoned thu mother to tho door, and whispered gomething to her, of which the only words that met my ear were "a trump," "a brick," "the other man like him ain't made yet," "do it, he'll talk, then." To which sh(! replied, " I have — oh yes, Sir — by all m«'ans." She then advanced to INIr. IIoptru(.'tion of the poor. Where the voluntary system prevails, the poor have to j>ive. from tla'ir povei'ty, or j^o without; and their gifts are so sm:ill, that they can piirchiise but little. It's a beautiful system, a charitable system, a Chtistiau >yst(!m. AVho is your landlord ?" '• Scpiire JMerton, Sir; and one of the kindest masters, too, that ever was. He is so good to the poor; and the ladies, Sir, they are HO kind, also. When my poor daughter JMary was so ill with the fever, I do think she would have died but ibr the attentions of those young ladies; and when she a. •• belter, they sent her wine and nourishing things from their owii iable. Tiiey will be so glad to see you, Sir, at the Priory. Oh, I wisltyou could see them!" j " There it is, Sam," he contumed :>\That iUu>t rates what I always ' told you of their social system here. We un\y boast of our indepcn- | dcnce, but that indepL.ndence produces isolation. Tluu'e is an indi- viduality about every man and every family in America, that givea , no right of impiiry, and im])oses no duty of relief on any one. Sick- '■ ness, and sorrow, juid trouble, are not divulged ; joy, success, and hapi)iness are not imparted. If wi; are iii(lei)endent in our fhoughts .y and actions, so are we left to sustain the burden of our own ills^^'; How applicable to our state is tJiat passage of Scripture, ' The heact knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.' *^ Now, look at this poor family ; here is a clergyman provided 68 THE ATTACHE ; OR, iii I \i M ; I !> in i xy \ for them, whom they do not, and are not even expected to pay ; their spiritual wants are ministered to, faithfully and zealously, as we see by the instruction of that little child. Here is a friend upon whom they can rely in their hour of trouble, as the bereaved mother did on Elisha. 'And she went up and laid her child that was dead on the bed of the man of God, and shut the door on him, and wiMit out.* And when a long train of agitation, mis-government, and in- digested changes have deranged this ha])py country, as has recently been the case, here is an indulgent landlord, disposed to lower his rent or give further time for payment, or if sickness invades any of these cottages, to seek out the sutferer, to afford the remedies, and by his count(;nance, his kindness, and advice, to alleviate their trou- bles. Here it is, a positive duty arising from their relative situa- tions of landlord and tenant. The tenants sup[)orT the owner, the landlord protects the tenants : the duties are reciprocal. \" With us the duties, as far as Christian duties can be said to be optional, are voluntary ; and the voluntary dischai-ge of duties, like the voluntary supjiort of religion, we know, from sad experience, to be sonictinu's imperfectly performed, at others intermitted, and often wholly neglected. /Oh ! it is a haj)py country this, a great and a good country; and how base, how wieked, how diabolical it is to try to set such a family as this against their best friends, their pastor and their landlord; to in.-til dissatisfaction and distrust into their siraple minds, and to teach them to loathe the hand that proffers nothing but regai'd or relief. It is shocking, isn't it ?" " That's what I often say, Sir," said Mrs. Ilodgins, " to my old man, to keep away from them CliJU'tists." *' Chartists! dear, who are they? I never heard of them." " Why, Sir, they are the men that want the five pints." " Five pints ! why you don't say so ; oh ! tlusy are bad men, have nothing to do with them. Five pints ! why that is two quarts and a half; that is too much to drink if :t was water ; and if anything else, it is bejistly drunkenness. Have nothing to do with them." " Oh ! no. Sir, it is live points of law." "Tut — tut — tut! what have you got to do with law, my dear?" " IJy gosh, Aunty," said ^Vlr. Slick, " you liad better not cut that oie : you will lind it rather sour in the apple sarce, and tough in the paste, I tell you." " Yes, Sir," she replied, " but they ary don't like to get 'era ragged up that way for everlast- inly, they can't afford it; so they let em scratch and tear their skin, for tiiat will grow agin, and trowsers won't. ) I t. I' m I'i 70 THE ATl'ACHE; OR, i!i :[ ■m ih i ' " Yes, it's a pretty cottaji^e that, and a nice tidy body that toe, is Mrs. irod<2;i«s. I've seen the time Avlien I would have given a good deal to have been so well housed as that. There is some little dif- ference atween that cottage and a log hut of a poor back ertiigrant settler, you and I know when;. Did ever I tell you of the night I spent at Lake Teal, with old Judge Sandford?" " No, not that I recollect." " Well, once upon a tihie I was a-goin' from Mill-bridge to Shad- brooke, on a little matter of bisness, and an awful bad and lonely road it was, too. There was scarcely no setthirs in it, and the road was all mad(; of sticks, stones, mud holes, and broken bridges. It was een amost onpassible, and who should I overtake on tlie way but the Judge, and his guide, on horseback, and Lawyer Traverse a-joggiu' along in his gig, at the rate of two miles an hour at the fardest. " ' Mornin,' sais the Judge, for he was a sociable man, and had a kind word for everybody, had the Judge. Few men know'd human natur' better nor he did, and what he used to call the philosophy of life. 'I am glad to see you on the road, Mr. Slick,' sais he, 'for it is so bad 1 am afraid there are places that will require our united efforts to j)ass 'em/ " Well, I felt kinder sorry for the delay too, for I know'd we should make a poor journey on't, on account of that lawyer critter's gig, that hadn't no more busness on that rough track than a steam- engine had. But I see'd the Judge wanted me to stay company, and help him along, and so I did. He was fond of a joke, was the old Judge, and sais he : "'I'm afraid we shall illustrate that passage o' Scriptur', Mr. Slick,' said he, " And their judges shall be overthrown in stony places." ' It's jist a road lor it, ain't it ?' " Well We chattered along the road this way a leetle, jist a leetle faster than we travelled, for we made a snail's gallop of it, that's a fact; and night overtook us, as I suspected it would, at Obi Rafuse's, at the Great Lake ; and as it was the only public for fourteen miles, and dark was . ettin' in, we dismounted, but oh, what a house it was 1 " Obi w IS an emigrant, and those emigrants are ginerally $o fond of ownin' the soil, that like misers, they carry as much of it about 'em on their parsons, in a common way, as they cleverly can. Some on 'em are awful dirty folks, that's a fact, and Obi was one of them. He kept 2)ublic, did Obi ; the sign said it was a house of entertain- ment tor mnn and beast. For critters that ain't human, I do sup- pose it spoke the truth, for it was enough to make a boss larf, if he could understand it, that's a fact ; but dirt, wretchedness and rags, don't have that eil'ect on me. " The house was built of rough spruce logs, (the only thing spruce about it) with the bai'k on, aud the cracks a" d seams was stuffed * was (Tior I SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. Tl with moss. The roof was made of coarte slabs, battened and no* phiiifjjled, and the chimbly ])eeped out like a black pot, made of sticks and mild, the way a crow's nest is. The winders were half broke out, and stopped up with shingles and old clothes, and a jiirreat bank of mud and straw all round, reached half way up to the roof, to keep the fi'ost out of the cellar. It looked like an ol4 hat on a dung heap. I pitied the old Judge, because he was a man that took the world as he found it, and made no complainls. lie know'd if you got the best, jt was no use complainin' that the best warn't good. " Well, the house stood alone in the middle of a clearin', without an outhouse of any sort or kind about it, or any fenr e or enclosure, but jist rose up as a toodstool grows, all alone in the field. Close behind it was a thick short second gi-owth of young birches, about fifteen feet high, which was the only shelter it had, and that was on the wrong side, for it was towards the south. " Well, when we alighted, and got the baggage off, away starts the guide with the Judge's traps, and ups a path through the woods to a settler's, and leaves us. Away down by the edge of the lake was a little 1 ".rn, filled up to the roof with grain and hay, and there was no stand in' room or shelter in it for the bosses. So the lawyer bitches iiis critter to a tree, and goes and fetciies uj) some fodder for him, and leaves him for the night, to weather it as he could. As soon as he goes in, I takes Old Clay to the barn, for it's a maxim of mine always to look out arter number one, opens the door, and pulls out sheaf arter sheaf of gi'ain as fust as I could, and throws it out, till I got a place big enough for him to crawl in. " ' Now,' sais I, ' old boy,' as. I shot to the door arter him, ' if that hole ain't big enough for you, eat away till it is, that's all.' " I had hardly got to the house albre the rain, that had threatened all day, came down like smoke, and the wind got up, and it blew like a young hurricane, and the lake roared dismal ; it was an awful night, and it was hard to say which was wus, the storm or the shelter. "'Of two evils,' sais I to the lawyer, 'choose the least. It ain't a bad thing to be well housed in a night like this, is it ?' " The critter groaned, for botli cases was so bad he did'nt know, which to take up to defend, so he grinned horrid and said nothin* ; and it was enough to make him grin too, that's a fact. He looked as if he had g(»t hold on a bill o' pains and penalties instead oi a bill of costs that time, you may depend. " Inside of the house wiis three I'ooms, the keepin' room, where we was all half circled round the fire, and two sleepin' rooms off of it. One of these Obi bad, who was a-bed, groanin', coughin', and turnin' ovei- and over all the time on the ereakin' bedstead with pleu- risy; t'other was for the judge. The loft was for the old woman, his mother, and the hearth, or any other soft place we could find, was allocated for lawyer and me. ■^! i ^1 I I 'II :<■: t, ( 72 THE ATTACH^; OR, " Wlwit a scarecrow lookin' critter old aunty was, warn't she ? She was all in rugs and tatters, and though she lived 'ion 'vside of the lake the best part of her emigrant life, had never u.- i water since she was christened. Her eyes were so sunk in lier head, lliey looked like two buuit holes in a blanket. Her liair was pushed back, and tied so ji^Jit with an eel-skin behind lier head, it seemed to take tlie liide > itl; d. I 'most wonder how she ever sliot to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no stockins on her h^gs, and no heels. to her slioes, so she couldn't lift her feet up, for fear of droppin off her slippers ; but she just shoved and slid about as if she was on ice. She had a small pipe in her mouth, with about an inch of a stem, to keep her nose warm, and her skin was so yaller and wrinkled, and hard and oily, she looked jist like a dried smoked red herrin' — she did, upon my soul. " Tlui floor of the room was blacker nor ink, because that is pale sometimes ; and the utensils, oh, if the fire didn't purify 'em now and ag'in, all the scrubbin' in the world wouldn't, they Avas past that. Whenever the door was opened, in run the pigs, and the old woman hobbled round arter them, bangin' them with a fryin' pan, till she seemed out o' breath. Every time she took less and less notice of 'em, for she was 'most beat out herself, and was busy a gettin' of the tea-kettle to bile, and it appeared to me she Avas a- goin' to give in and let 'em sleep with me and the lawyer, near the fire. " So I jist puts the tongs in the sparklin' coals and heats the eends on 'em red hot, and tlie next time they comes in, I watches a chance, outs with the tongs, and seizes the old sow by the tail, and holds on till I singes it beautiful. The way she let go ain't no matter, but if she didn't yell it's a pity, that's all. She made right straight for the door, dashed in atween old aunty's legs, and carries her out on her back, ridin' straddle-legs like a man, and tumbles her head over heels in the duck-pond of dirty water outside, and then lays down alongside of her, to put the fire out in its tail and cool itself. "Aunty took up the screamin' then, where the pig left off; but her voice wai'n't so good, poor thing ! she was too old for that, it Bounded like a cracked bell ; it was loud enough, but it warn't jist so clear. She came in drippin' and cryin' and scoldin' ; she hated water, and what was wus, this Water made her dirtier. It ran off of her like a gutter. The way she let out agin pigs, traveller* and houses of entertainment, was a caution to sinners. She vowed she'd stop public next mornm' and bile her kettle with the sign ; folks might entertain themselves and be hanged to *em, for all '^er, that they might. Then she mounted a ladder, and goes? up into the loft to change. " ' J udge,' sais I, ' I'm sorry, too, I singed that pig's tail ai'ter . a Pij sai I, suj St hel yoj up| sic mi SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 73 she? ide of watev 1, they itemed to her heid:^- ipin off was on ch of a ier and ked red t is pale cm now vas past 1 the old ^in' pan, aud less s busy a le was a- near the heats the watches a tail, and ) ain't no aade right nd carries d tumbles atside, and ts tail and ft off; bui for that, it vvarn't jist she hated It ran off ^ travellers* She vowed 1 the sign ; for all uer, jeij up into s tail alter that fashion, for tlio smell of pork chops makes mo feel kinder hungry ; and if we had 'em, no soul could cat 'em here in such a 6tyo as this. But, dear me,' says I, ' you'd better move, Sir ; that old woman is juicy, aud I see it a comin' through the cracks of the floor above, like a streak of m.olasses.' " ' ]\lr. Slick,' sais he, ' this is dreadfuL I never saw anything so bad before in all this country ; but what_can't J)e cured must be endured, I do. suppose. We must only be good-natured^ and do the best we can, that's alL An emigrant house is no place to stop at, is it .'* There is a tin case,' sais he, ' containin' a cold tongue and some biscuits, in my portmiuiler ; please to get them out. You ' must act as butler to-nigh^ if you please ; tor 1 can't eat anything that old woman touches.' " So I s[)rea(ls one of his napkins on tht; table, and gets out the eatables ; and then he produced a pocket pistol, for he was a sensi- ble man was the judge, and we made a small cheek, for there warn't enough for a feed. "Arter that, he takes out a night-cap, and fits it on tight, and then i)uts on his cloak, and wraps the hood of it close over his head, and foldin' himself up in it, h(i went and laid down without on- dressin'. The lawyer took a stretch for it on the bench, with his gig cushions for a pillar, and I makes up the fire, sits down on the chair, [)uts my legs up on the jamb, draws my hat over my eyes, and folds my arms for sleep. " " But fust and foremost,' sais I, ' aunty, take a drop of the strong waters : arter goin' the whole hog that way, you must need some ;' and I pourcil her out a stiff corker into one of her mugs, put some sugar and hot water to it, and she tossed it off as if she railly did like it. •' ' Darn that pig,' said she, ' it is so poor, its back is as sharp as a knife. It hurt me properly, that's a fact, and has most broke my crupper bone.' And she put her hand behind her, and moaned piteous. " ' Pig skin,' sais I, ' aunty, is well enough when made into a saddle, but it ain't over pleasant to ride on bare back that way,' sais I, ' is it ? And them bristles ain't quite so soft as feathers, I do suppose.' " I thought I should a died a holdin' in of a haw haw that way. Stifling a larf a'most stifles oneself, that's a fact. I felt sorry tor her, too ; but sorrow won't always keep you from larfin', unless you be covry for yo-i^elf. So, as 1 didn't want to offend her, I up legs again to 'he jam, and shot my eyes, and tried to go to sleep. " Well, I can snooze through most anythin', but 1 couldn't get much sleep that night. The pigs kept, close to the door, a shovin' agin it every now and then, to see all was right for a dash in, if the •I \^ iii 74 THE attache; or, hears came ; and tlie f^eo?^' kept pontiy, ton, nj^in flio foxes ; and «»!ie old feiliT M'onld ?qiiake out 'all's veil' evory fivi' mi mils, as he marched up and dt'^vn and back agin on the bnnkin' ff liic l.-jiisf. ''But the turkey? A\ as the wust. They ^vas her'''/;! x^)^n^ tlin lee side of the r of, and .sometimes an eddy of wn\d would tnke !\ feller right siap off ids leg-:, and send him flop) 'in' ^nd lolii.;' and ."prawlin' and ?creamin' down to the ground, and ihen he'd make jnost as much fu>s a-geitin' up info line ;)gin. They are very fond of straight line^i, is turkeys. 1 vjever see an old gobbler with liis gorget, tliat I don't think of a kernel of a mairhin' regiment, and if you'H listen to him and ■>vatch him, hc'l! strut jist iike oncj Hud say, 'Halt! «iress !' Oii, he is a njditary man. i^ f> tUikfy- cock : he ivears U-ng spurs, carries a stiff' neck, and char .; : ' at red cloth, \\Ke a frooper. "Well, llieo, a little cowardly good-natured cur, that lodged in an empty tio'i; } mitoI, near the wood pile, gav-"- out a long doleful howl, now :ui '. agin, to show these outside pir^-engers, if he couldn't tight for 'eni. he could at all events (try for 'tin, and it ain't every goose has a mourner to her funeral, that's a fact, unless it be the owner. " In the mornin' I wakes up, and looks round for lawyer, but he was gone. So I gathers up the brans, and makes up the fire, and walks out. Tiie pigs didn't try to cone in agin, you may depend, when they pce'd nie ; they didn't like die curlin' ton^^ as much as some folks do, and pigs' tails kinder curl naterally. l)ut there was lawyer a-standin' up bj tlie grove, lookin' as peeked and as forlorn as an onmated loorj. " ' "What's the mai ter of you, Squire ?' sais I. ' You look like a man that was ready to make a' speech ; but your witness hadn't come, or you hrs'hi't got no jury.* " ' Somebody has stole my horse,' said he. " Well, I know'd he was near-sighted, was lawyer, and couldn't fee a j)int clear of his nose, unless it was a pint o' law. So I looks all round, and there was his boss, a-standin' on the bridge, with his long tail hanging down straight at one eend, and his long neck and head a hanging down straight at t'other eend, so that you couldn't tell one fiom t'other, or which eend was towards vou. It was a (Jear cold mornin'. The storm was over and the wind down, and there was a frost on the ground, Th(> critter was cold, I suppose, and iiuvl bit)ke tlie rope and walked off to stretch his legs. It was a monstrous mean night to be out in, that's sartain. " ' There is your boss,' sais I. "' Wliere?''sais he. " ' Why, on the bridge,' sais I ; 'he has got his head down, and is a-lookin' alween his fore-legs to see where his tail is, for he i* «■« cold, I do suppose he caii't feel it.' SAM SCICK IN ENGLAND. 75 " "Well, as soon as we could, we started ; but afore we left, sais the judge to nie, ' Mr. Slick,' sais he, ' here is a plai:^ter,' taking out a pound note, ' a plaister for tlie skin the pig rubbed olf of the old woman. Give; it to her — I hope it is big enough to cover it.' And he fell back on the bed, and larfed and coughed, and coughed and larft'd, till liie tears run down his cheeks. " Yes," said Mr. Slick, " yes. Squire, this is a pretty cottage of Marm ITodgins ; but we have cotiages quite as pretty as this, our side of the water, arter all. They are not all like Obi Eafuses, the immigrant. The natives liave different guess places, where you might eat off the floor a'most, all's so clean. P'raps we hante the hedges, r.nd flowers, and vines {ind fixin's, and what-nots." " Which, alone," I said, " make a most important ^difference. No, Mr. Slick, there is nothing to be compared to this little cot- tage." " I perfectly af,ree with you. Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, " it is quite unique. There is not only nothing equal to it, but nothing of its kind at all like — an English cottage" CHAPTER XII. "STEALING THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE." Shortly after our return to the inn, a carriage drove up to the door, and the cards of Mr. Merton, and the Rev. Mr. Homily, which were presented by the servant, were soon followed by the gentlemen themselves. Mr. Merton said he had been informed by Mrs. Hodgins of our visit to her cottage, and from her account of our conversation and persons, he was convinced we could be no other than the party de- scribed in the " Sayings and Doings of Mr. Samuel Slick," as about to visit England with the Attache. He expressed great pleasure in having the opportunity of mjiking our acquaintance, and entreated us to spend a few days with him at the Priory. This invitation we were unfortunately compelled to decline, in consequence of urgent business in London, where our immediate presence was indispen- sable. The rector then pressed Mr. Hopewell to preach for him, on the following day, at the parish church, which he also declined. He said that he had no sermons with him, and that he had verv jireat objections to extemporaneous preaching, which he thought should never be resorted to except in cases of absolute necessity. He, ■ff 'f n^! 76 THE ATTACHE* OR, however, nt lust consented to do so, on condition tliat Mrs. Ilodging and h(;r iiusbjuid attended, jind upon being assured that it was their Invariable custom to be present, he said, he thought it not impossible, that he might make an impression upon him, and as it was his maxim never to omit an of)portunity of doing good, he would with the bless- ing ol' Ciud, make tiie attempt. The next day was renuirkabiy fine, and as the scene was new to me, and most probably will be so to most of my colonial readers, I shall endeavor to de.-eribe it with some minuteness. We walked to the church by a path over the hilJs, and heard the bells of a number of little churches, summoning the surrounding population to the house of GJod. The roads and the paths were crowded iviih tiie jxiasantry and their cliildren, approaching the churchyard in dill'erent directions. The church and the rectory •were contiguous to each otiier, and situated in a deep dell. The former was a long and rather low structure, originally built of light-colored stone, winch had grown grey with time. It had a large squai'e st(;ep]e, with pointed corners, like turrets, each of whieli was fiirnislied with a vane, but some of these ornaments were loose and turned round in a circle, wliile others stood still and ap[)eared to be examining with true rustic curiosity, the condi- tion of their neighbors. The old rectory stood close to the church and was very irregu- larly built ; one i)art looking as if it had stcppeu forward to take a peep at us, and another as if endeavoring to conceal itself from view, behind a screen of ivy. Tiie windows, which were con- structed Ol '"^ond-slia[)ed glass, were almost square, and opened on hinges. , .. ly half of the house was covered by a rose-tree from which tlie lattices peeped very inquisitively upon the assem- bled congregation. Altogether, it looked like the residence of a vigilant man, who could both see and be unseen if ', e pleased. Near the door of the church were groups of men in their clean smock-frocks and straw hats, and of women ir^ their tidy dark dresses and white aprons. The children all looked clean, healthy, and cheerful. The interior of the church was so unlike that of an American one, that my attention was irresistibly drawn to its peculiarities. It was low, and divided in the centre by an arch. Tiie floor was of stone, and, from long and constant use, very uneven in places. The pews wei'e much higher on the sides than ours, and were un« painttid, and roughly put together ; while the pulpit was a rude square box, and was placed in the corner. Near the door stood an ancient stone font, of rough workmanship, and much worn. 'V\w windows were long and narrow, and placed xary high in the walls. On llie one over the altar was a \Q.ry old painting, on stained glass, of the Viigin, with a hoop cjid yellow petticoat, crimson vest, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 77 merican ies. It was of places, rcre un- a rude tood an ill the stained on vest, n % cap, and very thick slioos. The liplit of tliis window was still lUrtlior subdued by a line ohl yew-tree, vviiieli stood in the yard closo belli nd it. There was anotlier window of beautiful stained ort]a}('d in a rapid and ino>t ma-terly maimer the sin and the disastrous cons(;(piences of rebellion ; pointed out the neces- sity that existed for vigilance, and delined theii" re>j)ective duties to God, and to (hose who, by his jteiniission, were set in authority over them; and concluded with tlie usual benediction, which, though I had heard it on similar occasions all my life, seemed now more et!i- cacious, more patei-nal, and more touching than ever, when uttered by him, in his peculiarly patriarchal manner. The abstract 1 have ju.-t given, I regret to say, cannot convey any adeqimte idea of iliis powerful, excellent and aj)projn'iate sermon. It was listenr'd to with intense interest by the congregation, many of whom were aifected to tears. In tlu; afternoon, we attended church again, when we heanl a good, plain, and practical discouise fjom therectoi'; but, unlbriunately, he had neitlicr the tah-nt, nor the natural eloipicnce of our Iriend, and, although it i-atislicd the judg- raent, it did not affect the heai^ like (hat of the "Old JMinister." At the door we met, on oui return, IMrs. llodgins. "Ah! my dear," said Mi-. Ilppewell, '• how do you do? 1 am going to your cottage ; but 1 am an old man now ; take my arm — it will sup[)ort me in my walk." It was thus that this good num, while honoring this poor woman, avoided the a])peai'ance of condescension, and received her arm as a favor to himself. She commenced thanking him ibr his sermon in the morning. She said it l,ad convinced her ^Villiam of the sin of the Chartist agitation, and that he had firmly resolved never to meet them again. It had saved him from ruin, and made her a happy wonnui. " Glad to hear it has done him good, my dear," said he ; " it does me good, too, to hear its efT'ect. Now, never remind him of past wrors, never aliud ) to them: make his home cheerful, make it the SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 79 pleftsanti'st place ho can find any whcro, and he won*t want in se<'k ainuscnicnt cLscwlK^n', or cxcitt'inent cither ; for lll(^se fu'ditioiis meeting's iiitoxiciite \\y their exi'itoincnt. t)h ! I am very glad I liavo (oik'Ik (I hiai ; ihat 1 have* {(reventoU those .s»!','d at the eotlaj.^', wliiih II(idi' rael good gene- wine first chop tohaeeo." '* A\'eH, it is a j^reat refreshnanit, is toi)aceo," said Mr. H(tpewell. *' I don't care if 1 do take a pij)e^ Iijiji|:^ me on<', Mr. llod;:;ins, juid one foi' yoin'self al>o, and I will smok(! and talk witii yon awhile, for tli«'y seem as natunil to each other as eatinj;- and drinkin'jr do." As soon as these wk'w jiriwluced, Mj*. Sliek and 1 retired, and requested Mrs. lIosit nheep; jest s<'<- if he don't, th;«,t's all." AVe. then walked up and down tJie shady lane, smokinj; our <'im sight and thoit, and it Wiun't ynruis liouse notlu^r. "I dr)n't know wln'thcr it was that dear old man's preachin' and he is a brick, ain't he? or. whether it's the place, oi- the place and him together; but son)ehow, or somehow else, I feel more serious to-day than connnon, that's a fact. Tii<.' [H'ople too are so plain dressed, so decent, so devout, and no show, it looks like airnest. "The only fashionable people here was the Squire's sarvants; and they did look genteel, and no mistake. Elegant men, and most splendid lookin' women they was too. I thought it was some noble. ao THE ATTACI16; OR, ff m if I- or ftlrl'ii, or bipf bug'.H fiunily; but IMix. IIo< (l.oy are the pooplo of tlio Squirii's nbout lint', the bntU'i-.^ iitid the Iiidu's'-ruaids ; and Huperfinc u})i)»'rcrust lookin' Iblk.s tlify be too. "Tben ovys used to l;uiH Oiulcccnt Tor a woinaii lo he seen walkiii' to nicclin' ii-i ii is to 1)«5 caught at — what .shall I my ? — why, »'au;,'ht at altciidln' to Iut own business at home. " The women are the I'li-t and tlar hi-l to inceljii' ; line elolhc.s co-it simihin', and if they ain't showed, whai's (he use ol" tiieni ? Tlie men folk remind mu of ilie hosses to Sal'le Inland. It's a Ions low siind-li;i!il\ on Nova Scolia eoM^t, lliirly miles loiiir nad hetter, in 8ahl..'el.s, does that island. iJoveniment keeps a .^s, he mounts his folks on his tamo bosses, and niakes a da ^h into the herd, and rnns a wild feller down, lugs Jiim olf to the stable-yard, and breaks him in, in no lime. A smart litthi boss he is, loo, but hi^ always has an ei/e to Hfdur' arterwards ; f/ie eliaiKje is too sudden, and he'll olf, if he gets H chance. " Now that's tlio ease with these country con j^rc^al ions, wc know M'here. Tlu; women and old tamt? men Iblk are inside ; the young wild l)oys and ontanu-d men folk are on the leiiees, outside, a setlin* on the top rail, a speculalin' on times or marriages, or markets, or what not, or a walkin' round and studyin' boss flesh, or a talkin' of a swap to be com})leted of a JMomlay, or a leadin' olf of two bosses on the sly of the old deacon's, takin' a lick of u half mile on u bye road, right slap a-head, and swearin' the bosses had got loose, and they was just a fetebin' of tbeni bairk. " * AVbose side-saddle is this ?' " ' Slim Sal Dowdie's.' " ' Shift it on to the deacon's beast, and \)\xi bis on to ber'n, and tie the two critters together by the tail. This is old Mother Pitcher's waggon ; her iioss kicks like a grasshopj)er. Lengthen the brcecbin', and when aunty starts, he'll make all fly agin into sbavin's, like a jdane. Who is that u comin' along full si)lit there a horseback ?' " ' It's old Booby's son, Tom. Well, it's the old man's sbaft boss; call out whob! and he'll stop short, and pitch Tom right over his bead on the broad of bis back, wbap. " ' Tim Fish, and Ned Pike, come scale up hcrc with us boys on the fence.' The weight is too great ; away goes the fence, and away goes the boys, all llyin'; legs, arms, hats, poles, stakes, withes, and all, with an awful crash and an awful shout ; and away goes 4# [[■ ii^l. r n i § t 82 THE ATTACH^; OR, two or three bosses that have broke their bridles, and off home like wink. " Out comes Elder Sourcrout. ' Tliem as won't come in had better stay to home,' sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay in when they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. ' Come, boys, let's go to BUiek Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. Wn shall be back in time to walk home with the galls from night meetin', by airly candle-light. Let's go.' " Well, they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin', they saivumvcnt some o' these wild ones outside ; make a dash on 'era, catch 'em, dip 'em, and give 'eni a name ; for all sects don't always baptize 'em as we do, when children, but let 'em grow up wild in the herd till they are wanted. They have hard work to break 'em in, for they are smart ones, that's a fact ; but, like the bosses of Sable Island, \{hey have always an eye. to natiir' arter- wards ; the change is too sudden, ^ou. can't trust 'em — at least I never see one as /could, that's all'. " Well, when they come out o' meetin', look at the dignity and sanctity, and i)r;de o' humility o' the tame old ones. Read their faces. '• How does the print go ?' Why this way — ' I am a sinner, .at least I was once, but thank fortin' I ain't like you, you oncon- verted, benighted, and good-for-nothin' critter you.' Read the on- tamed one's face, what's the print tuei'e ? Wiiy, it s this. As soon as he sees over-righteoiis stalk by arter that fashion, it says, ' How good \ve are, ain't we ? Who wet his hay to the lake t'other day, on his way to market, and made two tons w(iigh two tons and a half? You'd better look as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, hadn't you, old Sugar-cane ?' " Now jist foller them two rulin' elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; they are plaguy jealous of their neighboi". Elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted to-day. ' How did you like Brother Josh to-day ?' says Sourcrout, a utterin' of it through his nose. Good men alway.* speak through the nose. It's what comes out o' the mouth that d^ files a man ; but there is no mistake in the nose ; it's the porch of the temple, that. ' How did you like lirother Josh ?* " ' Well, he warn't very peeowerful !' " ' Was lu! ever peeowerful ?' " ' Well, when ft boy, they say he was considerable sum as a Avrastlcr.' "Sourcrout won't larf, because it's agin rules; but he gig goggles like a turkey-cock, and says he, ' It's for ever and ever the same thing with Brother Josh. He is hke an overshot mill, one ever lastin' wishy-washy stream.' " * When the water ain't quite enough to turn the wheel, and only spatters, spattei-s, spaiters,' says CoM.-laugli. " Sourcrout gig goggles rgin, as if he was sws\T?rIn' shelled' com SS^S^ SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 88 whole. ' That trick of wettin' the hay,' says he, * to make it weigh heavy, warn't cleverly done ; it ain't pretty to be caught ; it'n only bunglers do that.' " ' lie is so fond of temperance,' says Coldslaugh, * he wanted to make his hay jiue society, and drink cold water, too.' " Sourcrout gig goggles agin, till lie takes a fit of the asmy, set^i down on a stump, claps botli liands on his sides, and coughs, and coughs, till he finds coughing no joke no more. Oh dear, dear con- vartc'd men, though they won't larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes — don't they? \ " I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to the voluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death ; not that men wouldn't support it, but because it would be supported under false pretences. Truth can't be long upheld by falsehood. Hypocrisy would change its features, and intolerance its name ; and religion would soon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprineipled, marci- less superstition, that's a fact. / "■ Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin' country churches here, although t'other ones remind me of old times, when I was an ontamed one too. Yes, I like an English church ; but as lor Minister pretendin' for to come for to go for to preach agin that beautiful long-haired young rebel. Squire Absalom, for 'stealin' the hearts of the people,' why it's rather takin' the rag oft' the bush, ain't it ? " Tell you what, Squire ; there ain't a man in tlieir whole church here, from Lord Canter Berrv that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homil • that preached afore //a, nor never was, nor never will be equal lo Old Minister hisself lor ' steulin' the hearts of the people.' " CHAPTER XIII. N A T U R In tlic course of tbo journc} . the c«m^ crsation turned upon the several series of the " Clocknaaker" 1 had i)ublii^hed, and their rela- tive merits. Mr. Slick apjxar^d to tliink llicy all owed Mieir popu- larity mainly to the fresinie»» a/*d origii^dily of character incidental to ^. new country. " You are in the wrong pew here, Scjuire," said he ; " you are, upon my soul. If you think to sketch the Knglish in a way any one wiU stop to look at, you have mi.-sed a figur', that's all. Y'ou can't do it, noliow you can fix it. There is no contrasts here, no ^^^'^'^^''''fcWft*' -«4-»*tuAr. -I 84 THE ATTACHE j OR, f\^ variation of colors, no light and !=h lOlllh, l\.9 lish littly lied with .■rry as a SAM SLICK l.NT ENGLAND. 85 piet ures- is i< have h her out ! critiurs, e), yes, 1 and di'aw a striped n, bendin' lat lias a ixhles and have you t 1 got? Why, a pietur' w^orth lookin' at, too. "Why? — because it's nafur\ " Now look lierc, Scpiirc : l(!t Copley, if he was alive, but he ain't ; and it's a j)ity, too, for it would iiave kinder happified the old man, to ?ee liis son in the House of Lords, wouldn't it ? Squire Copley, you know, was a I^oston man ; and a credit to our great nation, too. P'rhaps Europe nevi-r has never dittoed him since. " Well, if lie was above ground now, alive, and stirrin', why take and fetch him to an u])per crust London })arty ; and sais you, ' Old Tenor,' stiis you, ' j)aini all them silver plates, aiid silver dishes, and silver coverlids, and what nots ; and then paint them lords with their stars, and them ladies' (Lord, if he would paint them with their garters, folks would buy the pictur, cituse that's nateral), Hhem ladies with their jewels, and their sarvants witirtheir liveries, as large as life, and twice as nateral.' '' Well, he'd paint it, if you paid him for it, that's a fact ;| for there is no better bait to fish ibr us Yankees, arter all, than u dollar. That old boy never turned up his nose at a dollar, except when he thought he ought to get two./ And if he [jainted it, it wouldn't be bad, I tell yoa. " ' Now,' sais you, ' you have done high life, do low life for me, and I will pay }ou well — I'll come down hansum, and do the thing gente<'l, you may depend. Then,' sais you, ' put in for a back- ground that noble, old Noah-like lookin' wood, that's as dark as comingo. Have you done ?' sais L •' ' 1 guess so," says he. " ' Then put in a brook jist in front of it, runniii over stones, and foamin' and a bubblin' up like anything.' " ' It's in,' says he. '"Then jab two forked sticks in the ground ten feet apart, this side of the brook,' sais you, 'and :lap a pole across atween the forks. Is that down ?' sais you. " ' Yes,' sais he. "'Then,' sais you, ' hang a pot on that horizontal pole, make a clear little wood lire onderneath ; paint two covered carts near it. Let an old hos-, drink at the stream, and two donkeys make a feed olf a patch of thistles. Have you stuck that in ?' " ' Stop a bit,' says he, ' paintin' an'r quite as fast done as writin'. Have a little grain of patience, will you ? It's tall paintin', makin' the brush walk at that price. Now there you are,' sais he. ' What's next? But, mind I've mo£t Idled my c:;nvas; it will cost you a pretty consider'ible penny, if you want all them critters in, when 1 come to cypliev all the pictur up, and sumtotalize the whole of it.' '"Oh! cus- the cost !' sais you. 'Do you jist obey orders, and Ju-eak owners, (hat's all you have to do, Old Loyalist.' " ' Very well,' sais he, ' here goes. > •'■MN^^Q^Jiij^liiU^g,^^^ fi f*a^. iiil R- 86 THE attache; or, " ' "Well, then,' sais j'ou, * paint a party of gipsies there ; mind their different colored clotlies, and diti'erent attitudes, and different occupa- tions. Here a man mendin' a harness, there a woman piekin' a stolen foAvl, liere a man skinnin' a. rabbit, (here a woman witli lier petticoat uj), a puuin' of a patch iu it. Here two boys a fishin', and there a little ,uall a pk\yin' with a dog, tliat's a racin' and a yelpin', and a barkin' like mad.' "' Well, when he's done,' sais you, 'which pictnr do yoji reckon is the best now, S([uire Copley ? s])eak candid, for 1 want to know, and 1 ask you now as a countryman.' '"Weir he'll jist up and tell you, 'Mr. Poker,' sais he, 'your fashionable party is the devil, that's a fact. .]\Ian made the town," but God made the country .^ Your company is as formal, and as stiff, and as oninter<;stin' as a row of poi)lars ; but your gii)sy scene is beautiful, because it's nateral. It was me painted old Chatham's death in the House of Lords ; folks praised it a good deal ; but it was no great shakes, t/tei-e was no natur' la it. The scene was raffl, the likenesses was good, and there was spirit in it, but their damned uni- form toggery s])oiled the whole thing — it was artificial, and wanted life and natur. Now, suppose such a thing in Congress, or su})pose some fellow skiver'd the speaker with a bowie knife, as hap])en(Ml to Arkansaw, if I was to paint it, it would ha beautiful. Our tree and enlightened people is so different, so cliaracteristie and peculiar, it would give a great field to a painter. To sketch the different style of man of each state, so that any citizen would sing right out ; Heav- ens and earth, if that don't beat all ! Why, as I am a liviu' sinner, that's the Hoosier of Indiana, or the Sucker of Illinois, or the Puke of Missouri, or the ]>ucky of Ohio, or the Red Horse of Kentucky, or the IMudhead of Tennessee, or tlie Wolverine of Michigan, or the Eel of New England, or the Corn Cracker of Virginia ! That's the thing that gives inspiration. That's the glass of talabogus tliat raises your spirits. yThere is nmch of elegance, and more of comfort in England. It is a great and a good country, Mr. Poker, but there is no natur iu ity^'' " It is as true as gospel," said Mr. Slick, " I'm tellin' you no lie. It's a fact. If you expect to paint them English, as }0U have the Blue-Noses and us, you'll pull your line up without a fish, oftener than vou are a-thinkin' on ; that's the reason all our folks have failed. ' Rush's book is jist molasses and water, not quite so sweet as 'lasses and noL quite so good as water, but a spilin' of both. And why i His pictur wm ; of polished life, where there is no natur. Washing ton Ii\ ing's book is like a Dutch paintin', it is good, because it 1 faithful ; the mop has the right number of yarns, and each yarn ha the right number of twists (altho' he mistook the mop of the grand father for the mop of the man of the present day) and the pew'te plates are on the kitchen di'csser and the other little notions are ai !f .1 V h f SAM SUCK IN ENGLANIX 87 i there. He lia-; done tlie mo-st that could be done for them, but the naintor dasurves more praise than the, >ubj(;('t. \^" Wby is it every man's sketches of America takes? Do you sup- pose it is the sketches? No. Do }ou I'eckon it is the iiUercist we create? No. [s it our grand cxpcrimeiit ? No. They don't care a brass button f )r us, or our counlry, or cxpfiriment-s riollier. Wliat is it, then ? It IS because the}'' arc sket(.'hes of natur. Natur in ev(n'y grade and every variety of tbrin ; from the. silver ])late, and silver tbrk, to the finger and linnlin' knife Our artilieial iJritishers laugh at; th(.^ are. bad copi(>s, that'> a fact ; 1 give them up. Lat them laugh, and be darned; but I stick to my natur, and 1 stump them to j)roduce tlie like. • " Oh, Squire, if yoi' ever sketch me, for goodness gracious sake, don't sketch me as an Attache to our embassy, with the Legation butto!! on the coat, and black Jube Ja[)an in livery. Don't do that; but pairt me in my old waggon in Never Scotier, with Old Clay be- fore me, you by my side, a segar iu my mouth, and tuitur all round me. And if that is too artilieial ; oil, paint me in the backwoods, with my iumtin' coat on, my leggins, my cap, njy belt, and my pow- der-horn. Paint me with my talkin' iron in my hand, wipin' her, chargin' her, seleclin' the l)ullet, plaein' it in tin; greasud wad, and rammin' it down. Then draw a splendid oak openin' so as to give a good view, paint a squirrel on the tip top of the highest branch of the loftiest tree, place me off at a hundred yards, drawin' a bead on him fine, then show the smi>k<', and young squire s(}iiirrel comin' tumblin' down head over heels lumpus', to see whether tlie gi'ound was as hard as dead squirrels said it was. Paint me natcral, 1 be- seech you ; for 1 tell you now, as I told you before, and ever shall say, there is nethin' worth havin' or knowin'. or hearin', or readiu', or seein', or tastin', or smellin', or feelin', and above all uiid more than all, nothin' worth alFeeiionin' but Natur. ^ CHAPTER XIV. ¥s T H i; S C D O L A CI E 11 . As soon as I found my friend Mr. Hopewell comfortably settled in his lodgings, I went to the oiiice of the Belgian Consul and oiher persons to obtain the necessary j)assports for visiting Germany, where I had a son at school. Mr. Slick proceeded at the same time to the residence of his Excellency Atu'dnego Layman, who hud bten sent to tiiis coinitry by tlie United Slates on a special mission, rela- tive to the Taritr' 111 88 THE ATTACHE ; OR, On my return from tlie city in tlio afternoon, he. tolil me lie had pre.-sentc'd liis cr(;(len!ials to 'Mlio Soclolaj^er," and was mo «t gra- ciously and coi'dially reccdvcd ; but siill 1 could not i'ail to observe that tliere was an cviiU-nt air of dis-appointment about him. "Pray, what i; ihc mcaniu;^ of the Socdolag-ei','' I asked. "I never hs-ard ol'the tr-rm b(.'fon'." " I'ossible !'' said he, "never heerd tell of ' (lie SoedolaL:;er,' why you don't ^ay so! TIk? ISoedolager is the President of the lakes — lie is th(3 whale of tin; intarnal seas — the Ind_i;ians W()rship[)ed him once on a time as the king of lishes. lie lives in grei^t slate iii the deep waters, does the old boy, and he don't often show himself. I never see'd him myself, nor any one that ever h;id sot eyes on him; but the old Indtrians have see'd him and know him w>'il. lie won't 'take no bait, will the Soedolager; he caift be can^lu, no how you can lix it, he is so 'tarnal knowin', and he can't be speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the water and is out of sight in no time. He can take in whole shoals of oiiiers hisself, tho' at a monthfuL lie's a whai)per, that's a fact. I call our JMinister here ' the Socdolagcr,' for our ^//plomaters were never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur' for knowin' the soundin's, smefin' tiic bait, givin' the dodge, or ryliif the water, so no soul can see thro' it but themselves. Yes, he is ' a ISocdolagej',' or a whale among c//plomaters. " Well, 1 rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and jjroceeds in state to oui embassy, gives what (jooper calls a lord's beat ol' six thund'rin' I'aps of tht" knock(n', presents ll'.e Icgat'ju tieke'., and was admitted to where ambassador was. lie is a very in-etty man all up his shirt, and he talks i)retty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he has gut the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white as a new b]"ea(,l and milk poultice. It does indeed. " ' Sam Slick,' sais he, ' as I'm ali\ e. "Well, how do you do, JMr. Slick? I am 'nation glad to see y u, I alfcction you as a niend)er of oiu" legation. I feel kinder [iroud to have the iirst literary man of our great nation as my Attache. "' Your knowledge of human natur, sais he, ('added to your'n of soft sawder,' sai.>- «,) ' v.dl raise our great nation,! guess, in the scale o' Euroj)ean estimation.' " lie is as sensitu-c as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that poke at his soft sawder like atiything, and puckered a little about the mouth, but he didn't say nothin', he only bov\ed. lie was a Unitarian preaelicr once, was Abednego, but he swaj)t preachin' for jioluies, and a good trade he made of it too; that's a fact. "'A great change,' sais 1, '^Vlicdncgo, since you was a preachin' to ConiH'cticut, and 1 was a vendin' of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain't it!'' Who'd a thonglit then, you'd a been " a Soedtjlager," and me yor.i "pilot li.-h," eh!' *-*•. SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 89 le he had ino-t gra- o observe kcJ. «' I .ger,' Avliy lak(v^ — \)\m'a\ him lie in the uiseU". I i on liim ; lie won't 1 how you ■d notlier, i is out of isself, tho' ' jNIinister own to be sountlin's, ^ soul Ciiu r a whale [ ])roceeds K!i\t oi" six , and was nan all up rett}-, and as a new lu do, Mv. II member Mary man your'n of 1 the scale winced at it lie about lie was a 'achin' for preaehin' .'otia, ain't ." and me i '* It was a raw spot, tliat, and I always touched him on it for fun. •' ' Sam,' said he, and his face fell like an emi)ty puss, when it gets a few cents put into each eend on it, the W(!ight makes it grow twice as long in a minute. ' Sam,' said he, ' don't call me that are, except when we are alone here, that's a good soul; not that I am proud, for 1 am a true Republican ;' and ho put his hand on his h(.'art, bowed and smiled hansum, 'but these people Avill make a nickname of it, and we shall lu ver hear tho last of it, that's a fact. AVe must re- spect ourselves afore others will respect us. You onderstand, don't you ?' " ' Oh, don't 1,' sais I,. ' that's all ? It's only here I talks this way, because we are at home now ; but I can't help a thinkin' how strange things do turn up sometimes. Do you recollect, wIk'h I heard you a-preachin' about IIoi)e a-i)itehin' of \w,v tent on a hill ? IJy gosli, it .struck me then, you'd i)itch your tent high some day ; you did it beautiful.' "lie know'd I didn't like this change, that ]\Ir. Ilopewcdl had kinder inoeulaU'd me wilh other guess views on these maUers, so he began to throw u[> )>ankments and to picket in the ground, all round for d(.'fenec like. '• ' IIojU',' sais he, 'is the attribute of a Chi-i.-tian, Slick, for h.e hopes beyond this world; but I changod on principle.' \|' ' AVell,' sais I, ' I changed on int<'r«st ; riow if our great nati(m is bat*ked by principtd and interest here, I guess ils credit is kinder well built. And atwcen you and me, Abednego. that's more than the soft-horned IJritish will ever see from all our States. Some on 'em are intarmined to pay neither debt nor interest, and give nothin' but lip in i'elarn.y "'Now,' sais he, a pre!<>;idin' to take no notice of thi-, 'you knew we have the VoluntMry •,v'it]i us, Mr. Slick.' lie siiid 'Jlister' that time, for he beg;ui to get turmal on |)uppus to stop jokes ; but, dear me, where all men are equal what's the use of one man tryin' to look big? lie mu.-t take to growiu' agin 1 g'uess to do tiiat. ' You know we have the Voluntary with us. Mr. Slick,' sais he. '^'dist so,' sais 1. ' ' Weli, what's the meanin' of that?' '"'Why,' sais I, ' tliat you support religion or lei it alone, as you 1 ke ; that you can take it up as a |.edlar dots his pack, carry it till you are tired, then lay it down, set on it, and let it su{)port you.' "• KxacUy,' sais he ; ' it is voluntary on the hcanjr, and it's jist so wUh the minister, too; for his preaehin' is vohuitary also. He can preach or let it alone, as he likes. It's voluntary all through. It's a bad rule that \vo"i't woi-k both ways.' ], ' there is a good deal in that, too.' I said that jiiit Well, ais to lead hin:' on. " ' A good deal !* sais he, ' why it's everything. But I didn't rest ( \ A 90 THE attache; or, on that alone ; I propoundixl this maxim to myself. Every man, Siiis 1, i.s bound to sarve his i'ellow citizens to his utmost. That's true ; ain't it, Mi\ Slick ?' '•' CJiiess Ko,' sais T. " ' Well then, 1 a.~:ke(l myself this here question : Can I sarve my fellow eiti/ens bi'st by bein' minisii^r to Ptnich settleiueiit, 'teiidiu' on a little villaiife of two thousand souls, and preachin' my throat sore, or bein' special minister to Saint Jim-es, and sarvin' our great Re- public and its thirteen millions ? Why, no rea-ouable man can doubt ; so T ciin't do a sum the way its stated, jist stales it so — he can do it. Now the right way to state that ?um is arter this fashion : *' Which is b(!st, to endeavor to save the souls of two thousand peo- ple under my si)iritual ehui'gi', or let them go to ()M Nick and save a piece of wild land in Maine, g<'t })ay for an old steamer btu'nt to Canada, and uphold the slave trade for tlu; interest of the Slates." " ' That's si)ecious, but not tnu',' said h>.' ; ' but it's a matter rathei' lor my consideration than yoi.r'n,' and he looked as a feiler does when he buttons his trouser,^' pocket, as much as to say, you have no right to be a puttin' of your i)ickers and stealers in there, tiiat's mine. ' We will do better to be less ;^dli-h,' said he, ' and talk of our great nation.' " ' Well,' says I, ' how do we star.d her(> in Euro[)e ? Do we main- tain th(! high pitch we had, or do we siny a note lower llian w(! did?' " Well, he walked up and down the room, with his hands onder his '_'oat-tail', t()r ever so long, without a sayin' t)]' a word. At last, sais he, with a bi-auliful smile that was jist skin deej), for it played on ins face as a cat's-})aw does on the cuhn water-r, ' "What was you a sayiu' of, Mr. Slick ?' sais he. "'What's our position to Kuiope ?' sais I, 'jist now; is it letter A, No. 1 ?' ''Oh!' sais he, and he walked up and down agin, cyjdierin' like to himself; and then says he, 'I'll l(dl you; that wonl Socdolager, ivd the trade of i)reaeliin', and clockmakin', it would be as well to sink here ; neither on 'em convene witl' tligni'.y. Don't you think so?' "■ ' Sartainlj',' sais I ; ' it's only lit to talk over a ciguv, alone. It don't always answer a good purpose to blart everything oat.\ But our y;o.>ition,' sais I, 'among the nations of tlie airlli, is it whiit our 2verla-tin' Union is .'Utitled to?'/ lj(H'au.-e,' suis he, ' stine day when I am r.sked out to dinner. some waji' or anotlier of a lortl will call me pars ?on, and usk me t«i crave a Idessin', jist to raise the larf agin rae for havin' been a preacher.' " ' If he does.' sais I, * jist say, my Attache does that, and I'll jist I ' wmmm SAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 91 Rvery man, )st. That's I ^iirvc my 'tciidin' on tlu'oat sort', V great lle- Li iiiau can it's a fact ; lit scholarcl, 80 — lie can \\r, fashion : nisand peo- 'k and save i'V burnt to Hl.'ites." illcr rathoi- i'cller does (III liMve no Iiul's mine, if our ifrcat () we niain- lu \V(! did?' s oud(;r his it htst, sais lyed on liis ou a taviu' is it letter herin' like loedolager, as well to I think so?' alone. It oat.\ liut ) what our to dinner, ask me ttt n' been a nd ril jist ! up first and give it to lir. i atv\ een tlic two eyes ; and wlien that's done, sais you, my Lord, that's your (/race afore meat; pr'aps your lordship will return, tlionks arter a joke, and no'.hin' more. iJut railly now, Abednego, what is the estate of our legation ?' '' ' I don't see nothin' ridikilous,' sais he, ' i)i that are expression, of IIo[>(' i)iti'hin' her tent on a hill. It's figui'aliv' and poetic, but it's within the liiic that divides tastj from biimbtist. Hope [)itchin' her li'ut on a hill! What is tluu'e lo I'epi'tjhenil in that?' '• • («o',)d aii'lli aiige,ther, and talk of somethin' el>e. Vou needn't be so jjerkily ashamed of bavin' preached, man. Cromwell was a great preacher all his lite, but it didn't spile him as 'I S(jcdolagei" one i)it, but I'alher helped him, that's a fact. How 'av M'e held our tbotin' here?' V' ' Not well, 1 am grieved to say,' sais he ; ' not well. The failure of the Uni vhI Stales' Bank, Mkj repudiation (jf debts by several of our State's, the foolish opposition we made to the su])i)ression of the slave-trade, and above all, the bad faith in the business of the boun- dary (piestion has lowered us down, down, e'en a'most to the bottom of the shaft 'y* '• ' Abednego,' sais I, ' we want sunthin' besides boast in' and talkin' big ; we want a dash — a great stroke of policy. Washington hangin' Andro that time, gained more than a battle. Jackson by hangin* Arbuthnot and Anbristher, gained his election. JNl'Kennie for bavin' hanged them three citizens will be made an admiral of yet, see if he don't. Now, if Captain Tyler had said, in \\\.- message to Congress, ■ Any vState that rej)udiates its ibreign di/bts, we will lirst line it in the whole amount, and then cut it otf from our grt'at, free, enlight ened, moral and intellectual republic', he wonl.l have gained by the da.^h his next election, and run u[) our Hag to the mast-head in Ku- ro[)e. He would have been popular to home* and inspected abroad, that's as clear as mud.' '•' He would have done right, Sir, if he had done that,' said Abed- nego, ' and the right thing is a4ways approved of in the eend, and always esteemed all through the piece. A dash, as a stroke of policy,' said he, 'has sometimes a good effect. General Jacksjij Hm 1)2 THE ATVACuk ; OK, thventonln France ^vith a war, iTlhoy didn't pay (lio lnd .nnify, wheu lu' knew tl K'Mj^ would mukc 'cm pay it wlu'tlier or no, \v;i ^ a nins- terpi'N'O ; and (Jcnci-al Cu-s li'llin' France if she si'/in'il iIk' y\'^\)f of sarcH tix-aty, wn \V( iid liandcd, \va-< the bust niov • on the political clic. -board this criitnry. All theso, Sir, arc very well in their way. to [)rodiiee an cIiitI ; but tliere'.s a belter loliey nor all that, a I'ar etter poliev, and one, too, that some of our Stales and legislators, and pi ddt'iits, and S(jcdol- nger.*, as yon call *eni, in my mind have got to iarn yet, Sam.' " ' WIkiTs that?' sais I. 'For 1 don't belie've in my soul ilicie is nothiu' a'niO'f our diplomatorn don't know. They are a body o' men that does bonwr to oui- great nation. What jjoliey arc you a indiea- tin' of?' '"' Wliv,' sais he, ^fhai honesty is tin' tx'st ^wlici/' " A\'iien I hcerd him say tliii 1 ?j)nii.cs right up one end like a rope dancer. 'Cii e. me voin- hand, Abednego,' sais I ; 'you are a man, evt ly iueh of yon,' and I scpieezed it so hard, it made his eyes watei'. 'J always knowed yon ha^ ^^^^ ^,< 1.0 I.I 1.25 U^|2£ |2.5 |50 ""^ IIII^H 1^1 us 2.2 2.0 lllll^ U IIIIII.6 IIIIIM -►' l«\v :/■ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTESi.N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 i •I %)4 THE ATTACH^;; OB, i ( I I 5 * ■ I' ■ ' ■ J "You've seen Old Clay in a pastur' a racin* about, free from har- ness, head and tail up, snortin', cavortin', attitudinizin' of himself Mane flowin' in the wind, eye-ball startin' out, nostrils inside out a'most, ears prieked up. A nateral boss; put him in a waggon, with a rat'l spic and span harness, all covered over with brass buckles and brass knobs, and ribbons in his bridle, rael jam. Curb him up, talk Yankee to him, and get his ginger up. Well, he looks well ; but he is ' a broke koss.' He reminds you of Sam Slick ; cause when you see a boss, you think of his master ; but he don't remind you of the rael ' Old Clay,* that's a fact. " Take a day here, now, in town ; and they are so identical the same, that one day sartificates for another. You can't get out a bed afore twelve, in winter, the days is so short, and the fires ain't made, or the room dusted, or the breakfast can't be got, or sunthin' or another. And if you did, what's the use ? There is no one to talk to, and books only weaken your understandin', as water does brandy. They make you let others guess for you, instead of guessin' for yourself Sarvant s spile your habits here, and books spile your nu.ud. 1 wouldn't swap ideas with any man. T make my own opinions, as I used to do my own clocks ; and I find they are truer than other men's. The Turks are so cussed heav) , they Lave people to dance for 'em ; the English are wus, for they hire people to think for 'em. Nev er read a book, Squire — always think for yt>iir>ifelf. — " Well, arter breakfast, it's on hat and coat, ombrella in hand (don't never forget that, for the rumatiz, like the perlice, is always on the look out here, to grab hold of a feller), and go somewhere . where there is somebody or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a sherry-cobbler ; (the drinks ain't good here ; they hante no variety in them nother : no white-nose, apple-jack, stone wall, chain-lightning, rail-road, hail-storm ginsling-talabogus, switchgl flip, gum-ticklers, phlegm-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock- tail, or nothin', but that heavy, stupid, black fat porter ;) then down to the coffee-house, see what vessels have arrived, how markets is, whether there is a chance of doin' anythin' in cotton and tobacco, whose broke to home, and so on. Then go to the park, and see what's a goin' on there : whether those pretty critturs, the rads, are a holdin' a prime minister ' parsonally responsible,' by shootin' at him ; or whether there is a levee, or the Queen is ridin' out, or what not; take a look al; the world, make a visit or two to kill time, when all at once it's dark. Home then, smoke a cigar, dress for diiuKn", and arrive at a quarter past seven. " Folks are up to the notch here when diimer is in question, that's a fact, fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered as they be. It's rap, rap, rap, for twenty minutes at the dooi and in they come, one arter the other, as fast as the sarvants can cairy up their names SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 96 Cuss *.liem sarvants! it takes seven or eiglit of 'em to carry a man'f name up stairs, they are so awfui lazy, and so shockin' full of por- ter. If a feller was so lame he had to be carried up himself, I don't believe, on my soul, the whole gang of them, from the Butler that dresses in the same clothes as his master, to Boots that ain't dressed at all, could make out to bowse him up stairs, upon my 60ul I don't. " Well, you go in along with your name, walk up to old aunty, and make a scrape, and the same to old uncle, and then fall back. This is done as solemn, as if a feller's name was called out to take his place at a funeral ; that and the mistakes is the fun of it. There is a sarvant at a house I visit at, that I suspicion is a bit of a bam, and the crittur shows both his wit and sense. He never does it to a ' somebody,' cause that would cost him his place ; but when a ' nobody' has a droll name, he jist gives an accent, or a sly twist to it, that folks can't help a larfin', no more than Mr. Nobody can feelin' like a fool. He's a droll boy, that ; I should like to know him. " Well, arter 'nouncin' is done, then comes two questions — do I know anybody here ? and if I do, does he look like talk or not ? Well, scein' that you have no handle to your name, and a stranger, it's most likely you can't answer these questions right ; so you stand and use your eyes, and put your tongue up in its case till it's wanted. Company are all come, and now they have to be mar- shalled two and two, lock and lock, and go into the dinin'-room . to feed. '• When I first came, I was nation proud of that title, ' the Attache;' now I am happified it's nothin' but ' only an Attache,' and I'll tell you why. The great guns, and big bags, have to take in each other's ladie^ so these old ones have to herd together. Well, the nobodies go together too, and sit together, and I've ob- served these nobodies are the pleasantest people at table, and they .Jiave the pleasantest places, because they sit down with each other, and are jist like yourself, plaguy glad to get some one to talk to. Somebody can only visit somebody, but nobody can go anywhere, and therefore nobody sees and knows twice as much as somebody does. Somebodies must be axed, if they are as stupid as a pump ; hut nobodies needn't, and never are, unless Ihey are spicy sort o* folks ; so you arc sure of them, and they have all the fun and wit of the ttible' at their eend, and no mistake. " 1 wouldn't take a title if they would give it to me ; for if I had one, I should have a fat old parblind dowager detailed on to me to take in to dinner ; and what the plague is her jewels and laces, and silks and sattins. and wigs to me? As it is, I have a chance to have a gall to take in that's a jewel herself — one that don't want no settin' otfj and carries her diamonds in her eyes, and so on. I've m TH|i ATTACH^; OR, h'- i told our Minister not to introduce me as an Attacho no more, but us Mr. Nobody, from the State of Nothin', in America — that's natur' agin. ■ " But to get back to the dinner. Arter you are in marchin' or- der, you move in through two rows of sarvants in uniform. I used to think they was placed there for show ; but it's to keep the air off of folks a goin' through the entry, and it ain't a bad thought, nother. • " Lord, the first time I M'ent to one o' these grand let offss, I felt kinder skeery, and as nobody was allocated to me to take in, I goes in alone, not knowin' where I was to settle down as a squatter, and kinder lagged behind ; when the butler comes and rams a napkin in my hand, and gives me a shove, and sais he, ' Go and stand be- hind your master, Sir,' sais he. Oh, Solomon ! how that waked me up ! How I curled inwardly when he did that ! ' You've mista- ken the child,' says I mildly, and I held out the napkin, and jist aa he went to take it, I gave him a sly poke in the bread basket, that made him bend forwai'd and say ' eugh.' ' Wake Snakes, and walk your chalks,' sais I, ' will you ?' and dovvn I pops on the fust empty chair. Lord, how white he looked about the gills arterwavds. ! I thought I should a split when I looked at him. Guess he'll know an Attache when he sees him next time. " Well, there is dinner. One sarvice of plate is like another sar- vice of plate, any one dozen of sarvants are like another dozen of sairvants, hock is hock, and champaigne is charapaigne — and one dinner is like another dinner. The only difference is in the thing itself that's cooked. Veal, to be good, must look like anything else but veal ; you mustn't know it when you see it, or it's vulgar ; mut- ton must be incog, too ; beef must have a mr on ; anythin' that looks solid, take a spoon to ; anythin' that I« light, cut with a knife ; if a thing looks like fish, you may take ,y0ur oath it is flesh ; and if it seems rael flesh, it's only disgi-ised, for it's sure to be fish : \nothin' must be nateral — natur' is out of fashion here. This is a manufacturin' country — everything is doi^ by machinery, and that that ain't must be made to look like it ; and I must say, the dinner ' machinery is parfect. ^ " Sarvants keep going round and round in a ring, slow, but sartin, and for ever, like the arms of a great big windmill, shovin' dish afler dish, in dum show, afore your nose, for you to see how you like the flavor; when your glass is empty, it's filled; when your eyes is off your plate, it's off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle. ( " Folks speak low here ; steam is valuable, and noise onpolite. They call it a ' subdued toneJ' Poor tame things, they are subdued, that's a fact ; slaves to an arbitrary, tyrannical fashion, that don't leave 'em no free will at all. You don't often speak across a table any more t nor you do across a street, but p'raps Mi'. Somebody, of West Eend •4 ' 'M k SAM SLTCK IN ENGIiAND. 07 no more, but — that's natur* 1 marchin' or- form. I used 1 keep the air bad thought, let offs, I felt ake in, I goes ; squatter, and ams a napkin and stand be- hat waked me You've mista- lin, and jist aa id basket, that ikes, and walk :he fust empty rterwardi ! I jss he'll know le another sar- other dozen of gne — and one is in the thing I anything else 1 vulgar ; mut- anythin' that ht, cut with a ath it is flesh ; ure to be fish : re. This is a nery, and that say, the dinner ow, but sartin, )vin' dish after vv you like the our eyes is off noise onpolite. y are subdued, that don't leave table any more of West Eend ,^ of towi7, will say to a Mr. Nobody, from "West Eend of America : * Niagf.ra is noble.' Mr. Nobody will say, * Guess it is — it got its patent afore the " Norman Conquest," I reckon, and afore the "subdued tone" come in fashion.' Then Mr. Somebody will look like an oracle, and say, * Great rivers and great trees in America, You speak good English.' And then he will seem surprised, but not say it — only you can read the words on his face, ' Upon my soul, you are a'most as white as us.' " Dinner is over. It's time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt Goosey looks at the next oldest goosey, and ducks her head, as if she waa a goin' through a gate, and then they all come to their feet, and the goslins come to their feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin'-room together. "The decanters now take the 'grand tour' of the table, and, like most travellers, go out with full pockets, and return with empty ones.v Talk has a pair of stays here, and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin' is pedantic ; politics is onsafe ; religion ain't fashionable. You must tread on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so trampled down by both sides, and so plundered by all, there ain't anything fresh or good grows on it, and it has no cover for game nother./ '' Housundever, the ground is tried, it's well beat, but nothin' is put up, and you get back to where you started. Uncle Gander looks at next oldest gander hard, bobs his head, and lifts one leg already for a go, a.id says, * Will you take any more wine ?* * No,' sais he, ' but I take the hint, let's jine the ladies.' " Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose pastur, the drawin'-room, other little flocks come troopin' in, and stand, or walk, or down on chairs ; and them that know each other, talk, and them that don't, twirl their thumbs over their fingers ; and when they are tired of .that, twirl their fingers over their thumbs. I'm nobody, and so I goes and sets side-ways on an ottarman, like a gall on a side-saddle, and look at what's afore me. And fust I always look at the galls. " Now, this I will say, they are amazin' fine critters are the women kind here, when they are taken proper care of. The English may stump the univarse a'most for trainin' bosses and galls. They give 'em both plenty of walkin' exercise, feed 'em regular, shoe 'em well, trim 'em neat, and keep a beautiful skin on 'em. They keep *em in good health, and don't house 'em too much. They are clippers, that's a fact. There is few things in natur, equal to a boss and a gall, that's well-trained and in good condition. I could stand all day and look at 'em, and I call myself a considerable of a judge. It's singular how much they are alike, too, the moment the trainin' is over or neglected, neither of 'em is fit to be seen ; they grow out of shape, and look coarse. I Ir 98 THE ATTACHE ; Olf, " They are considerable knowin' in this kind o' ware too, are the English ; they vamp 'em up so well, it's hard to tell their age, and I ain't sure they don't make 'em live longer, than where the art ain't ro well pracU'sed. The mark o' mouth is kept uj) in a hoss here by the file, and a hay-cutter saves his teeth, and helps his digestion. AVell, a dentist does the same good turn for a woman ; it mak(!s her pa?s for several years younger, and helps her looks, mends her voice, and makes her as smart as a three year old. '' What's that ? ^ It's music. Well, that's artificial too, it's scientifUs tliey say, it's done by rule. , Jist look at that gall to the piany ; first comes a little Garman thunder. Good earth and seas, rvhat a crash I it seems as if she'd bang the instrument to a thousand pieces. I guess she's vexed at somebody and is a peggin' it into the piany out of spite. Now comes the singin' : see what faces she makes, how she St ret dies her mouth open, like a bam door, and turns up the Avhite of her eyes, like a duck in thunder. She is in a musical ecstacy is that gall, she feels good all over, her soul is a gpin' out along with that ere music. Oh it's divine, and she is an angel, ain't she ? Yes, I guess she is, and when I am an angel, I will fall in love with her ; but as I am a man, at least what's left of me, I'd jist a^ soon fall in love with one that was a leetle, jist a leetle more of a woman, and a leetle, jist a leetle less of an angel. But hullo ! what onder the sun is she about, why her voice is goin' down her own hroat, to gain strength, and here it comes out agin as deep toned as a man's ; wliile that dandy feller along side of her, is singin' what they call /alsetter. They've actilly changed voices. The gall sings like a man, and that screamer like a woman. This is science : this is taste : this is fashion : but hang me if it's natur. I'm tired to death of it, but one good thing is, you needn't listen without you like, for every body is talking as loud as ever. " Lord, how extremes meet, sometimes, as Minister saysi Here, now, fashion is the top of the pot, and that pot hangs on the^highest hook on the crane. In America, natur can't go on no fartlier ; it's the raal thing. //Look at the women kind, now. An Indgian gall, down South, goes most naked. Well, a splendiferous company gall, here, when she is full dressed is only half covered, and neither of 'em attract you one mite or morsel. We dine at two, and sup at seven ; here they lunch at two, and dine at seven. The words are different, but tliey are identical the same. Well, the singin* is amazin' like, too. Who ever heerd them Italian singers recitin' their jabber, showin' tiieir teetli, and cuttin' didoes at a great piivate consart, that wouldn't take his oath he had heerd niggers at a dignity ball, down Souih, sing jist the same, and jist as well. And then do, for good- ness' gracious' sake, hear that great absent man, belongin' to the House o' Commons, when the eliaplain says, ' Let us pray !' sin,^ right out at once, as if he was to home, ' Oh, by all mean's,* as * ers, waiters, ehnmher {jjalis, guides, quotillions, — " " ]*ostiIli(>ns, you mean," I said. " Well, postillions tlien, for the French have queer names for people, that's a fact ; disbanded sodgers, and such trash, for spies. In England they have airls and countesses, Parliament men, and them that call themselves gentlemen and ladies, for spies." " How very absurd !" said I. " Oh yes, very absurd," said ]Mr. Slick. " Whenever I say any- thin' agin England, it's very absurd, it's all prejudice. Nothin' ia strange, thougli, when it is said of us, and the absurder it is, the truer it is. I can bam as well as .any man when bam is the word ; but when fact is the play, I am riglit up and down, and true as a trivet. I won't deceive you ; I'll i)rove it. ♦' There was a Kurnel Dun — dun — plague take his name, I can't recollect it, but it makes no odds — I know he is Done for, though, that's a fact. AVell, he was a British kurnel, that was out to Hali- fax when I was th(M*e. I know'd him by sight, I don't know him by talk, for I didn't fill then the dignified situation I now do, of Attache. I was only a clockmaker tlien, and I sujipose he wouldn't • have dirtied the tip eend of his white glove with me then, any more than I would sile mine with him now ; and very expensive and troublesome things them white gloves be, too ; there is no keepin' of them clean. For my part, I don't see why a man can't make his own skin as clean as a kid's, any time ; and if a feller can't be let shake hands with a gall except he has a glove on, why ain't he made to cover his lips, and kiss thro' his kid skin too ? " But to get back to the kurnel, and it's a pity he hadn't had a glove over ins mouth, that's a fact. Well, he went home to Eng- land with his regiment, and one night when he was dinin' among some first chop men, nobles and so on, they sot up considerable late over their claret ; and poor thin cold stuff it is, too, is claret. A man may get drowned in it, but how the plague he can get drunk with it, is hard to me. It's like everything Qlse French, it has no substance in it ;. it's nothin' but red ink, that's a fact. Well, how it was I don't know, but so it eventuated, that about daylight he was mops and brooms, and began to talk somethin' or another he hadn't ought to ; somethin' he didn't know himself, and somethin' he didn't mean, and didn't remember. , " Faith, next mornin' he was booked ; and the first thing he see'd when he waked was another man a tryin' on of his shoes, to see how they'd fit to march to the head of his regiment with. Fact, I as- sure you, and a fjict too that shows what Englishm^ has come to ; V BAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 103 the Spy the na»- It is ten l)ar-kce[)* amos for for spies, men, and pay any- iJothin' ia it is, the he word ; true oa a le, I can't r, though, t to Hall- know him [)vv do, of ! wouldn't* then, any expensive ere is no nan can't f a feller e on, why too? n't had a ! to Eng- in* among srable late ;laret. A get drunk it has no kVell, how ly light he iiotlier he somelhiii' g he see'd o see how act, I.as- \ come to ; Vs,^ I despise 'em, I hate 'em, I scorn such critters as I do tn<»rcum- cizcd nijr;^crs."y' " What a sti-ange perversion of facts !" I replied. But ho would admit of no explanation. " Oh yes, quite par- varfc:! ; not a word of truth in it; there never is when England is confirm il. Tiuin; is no beam in an Englishman's eye ; no, not a smell of one ; he has pulled it out long ago ; that's the reason lu5 can w'e the mote in other fblks's i^o plain. Oh, of course it ain't true; it's a Yankee invention ;^ it's a hickory ham and a wooden nutmeg, " Well, then, there was another feller got bagged t'other day, a< innocent as could be, for givin' his opinion when folks was a talkin' about matters and things in gineral, and this here one in partikilar. I can't tell the words, for I don't know 'em, nor care about 'em ; and if I did, I couldn't carry 'em. about so long; but it was for eayin' it hadn't ought to have been taken notice of, considerin' it jist j)opt out permiseuous like with the bottle-cork. #If he hadn't a had the clear grit in him, atul show'd teeth and claws, they'd a nnl- litied him so, you wouldn't have see'd a grease spot of him no more. What do you call that, now ? Do you call that liboity ? Do you call that old English ? Do you call it pretty — say, now ? Thank God, it tante Yankee." • " I see you have no prejudice, Mr. Slick," I replied. " Not one mite or morsel," he said. " Tho' I was born in Con- necticut, I have travelled all over the thirteen united universal worlds of ourn, and am a citizen at large. No, I have no preju- dice. You say I am mistakend ; p'raps I am, I hope I be, and a stranger may get hold of the wrong eend of a thing, sometimes, that's a fact. But I don't think I be wrong, or else the papers don't tell the truth ; and I read it in all the jamais ; I did, upon my soul. Why, man, it's history now, if such nasty mean doins is worth put- tin' into a book. " What makes this Spy System to England wuss, is that these eaves-droppers are obliged to hear all that's said, or lose what com- mission they hold ; at least so folks tell me. I recollect when I was tlieiij last, for it's some years since Government first sot up the Spy System ; there, was a great feed given to a Mr. Robe, or llobie, or some such name, an out and out Tory. Well, sunthin' or another was said over their cups, that might as well have been let alone, I do suppose — tho', dear me, what is the use of wine but to onloosen the tongue, and what is the use of the tongue, but to talk ? Oh, cuss 'em, I have no patience with them. Well, there was an officer of a marchin' regiment there, who it seems ought to have took down the words and sent 'em up to the head Gineral ; but he was a knowin' coon, was officer, and didn't hear it. No sooner caid than done ; some one else did the dirtv work for him ; but you 104 THE attachA; or, Mn't have a substitute for this, you must sarve in person ; so the old Gineral hawls him ri{;ht up for it. " ♦ Why the plague didn't you make a fuss ?' sais the General ' Why didn't you pot rj;;ht np, and break up the party ?' " ' I didn't hear it,' pais he. " « You didn't hear it 1' sais Old Swordbelt. « Then you had ought to have heerd it ; and for two pins, I'd sharpen your hearin' for you, so that a snore of a fly would wake you up, as if a byler had bust.' " Oh, how it has lowered the English in the eyes of foreigners I How sneakin' it makes 'em look ! I'hey seem for all the world like scared dogs ; and a dog, when he slopes off with his head down, his tail atween his legs, and his back so mean it won't bristle, is a cau- tion to sinners. Lord, I wish I was Queen !" " What, of such a degraded race as you say the English are — of such a mcan-spinted, sneaking nation ?" " Well, they warn't always so," ho replied. " I will say that, for I have no prejudice, v By natur, there is sunthin* noble and manly in a Britisher, and always was, till this cussed Spy System got into fashion. They tell me it was the Liberals first brought it into vogue. / How that is, I don't know ; but I shouldn't wonder if it was them, for I know this, if a feller talks very liberal in politics, put him into office, iind see what a tyrant he'll make. If he talks very liberal in religion, it's because he hante got none at all. If he talks very liberal to the poor, talk is all the poor will ever get out of him. If he talks liberal about corn law, it tante to feed the hun- gry, but to lower wages, and so on in everything a'most. None is so liberal as those as hante got nothin*. The most liberal feller I know on is ' Old Scratch himself.' If ever the liberals come in, they should make him Prime Minister. He is very liberal in reli- gion, and would jine them in excludin' the Bible from common schools, I know. He is very liberal about the criminal code, for he can't bear to see criminals punished. He is very liberal in poli- tics, for he don't approbate restraint, and likes to let every critter * go to the devil ' his own way. Oh, he should be Head Spy and Prime Minister, that feller. " But without jokin', tho', if I was Queen, the fust time any o* my ministers came to me to report what the spies had said, I'd jist up and say,\ Minister,' I'd say, * it's a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly business, is this of pumpin', and spyin', and tattlin'. I don't like it a bit. I'll have neither art nor part in it ; I wash my hands clear of it. It will jist break the spirit of my people./ So, Minister, look here. The next report that is brought to me of a spy, I'll whip his tongue out and whop your ear off, or my name ain't Queen. So jist mind what I say ; first spy pokes his nose into your office, chop it off and clap it up over Temple Bar, where they SAM SLICK IN ENQLANP. 106 on ; 60 the jc General putH the Iicads of traitors, and write tlicse « ords over it, with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin', and not niiatake tho mcanin' — ' This it the nose of a Spy.' " n you had our hoarin' if a byler foreij^nera I world like 1 down, his c, is a cau- isli arc — of [ly that, for and manly ;m got into [^ht it into cr if it was politics, put tiilks very If he talks get out of d the hun- . None is ral feller I s come in, ral in reli- n common 1 code, for ral in poli- ery critter d Spy and [me any o' lid, I'd jist , onmanly, tattlin'. I [ wash my oplcy/ So, o me of a my name 3 nose ifato vhere they CHAPTER XVII. THE PATRON; OR, THK COW'S TAIL. Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. Tlie number and va- riety of objects to which your attention is culled, and the rapid suc- cession in which they pass in review, at once wearies and per[)lexea the mind ; and unless you take notes to refresh your memory, you are a[)t to find you carry away with you but an imperfect anu indis- tinct recollection. Yesterday was devoted to ar inspection of the Tunnel and an examination of the Tower, two things that ought always to be viewed in juxta-position ; one being the greatest evidence of the science and wealth of modern times, and the other of the power and pomp of our forefathers. It is a long time before a stranger can fully appreciate the extent of population and wealth of this vast metropolis. At first, he ia astonished and confused ; his vision i»» indistinct. By degrees he begins to understand its localities, the ground plan becomes intelli- gible, and he can take it all in at one view. Th«!' map is a large one ; it is a chart of the world. He knows the capes ind the bays ; he has sailed round them, and knows their relative distance, and at last becomes aware of the magnitude of the whole. Object after object becomes more familiar. He can estimate the population ; he compares the amount of it with that of countries that he is ac- quainted with, and finds that this on«! town contains within it nearly as great a number of souls as all British North America. He esti- mates the incomes of the inhabitants, and finds figures almost inade- quate to express the amount. He u.-ks for the source from whence it is derived. He resorts to his maxims of political economy, and they cannot infoim him. He calculutt s the number of acres of land in England, adds up the rental, and is again at fault. He inquires into the statistics of the Exchange, and discovers that even that is inadequate ; and, as a last resource, concludes that the whole world is tributary to this Queen of Cities. It is the heart of the Uni- verse. All the circulation centres here, and hence are derived all those streams that give life and strength to the extremities. How vast, how populous, how rich, how well regulated, how well supplied ' 5* M 106 THE attach:^ ; OR, hC ■.xperience ? \It is, thai there is no such cotmtry i7i the world as Englayid, and no such place in England as London ; that London is better than any other town in tvinter, and qnite as good as any other place in summer; that containing not only all that he requires, but all that he can loish, in the greatest perfection^ he desires never to leave it. y Local description, however, is not my object ; I shall Ihcrefore re- turn to my narrative. Our examination of the Tower anu the Tunnel occupied the whole day, and though much gratified, we were no less fatigued. On returning to our lodgings, I found letters from Nova Scotia. Amoi^g otheis, was one from the widow of an old friend, enclosing a memo- rial to the Commander-in-Chief, setting forth the important and gratuitous services of her late husband to the local government of the province, and soliciting for her son some small situation in the ordnance department, which had just fallen vacant at Halifax. I knew that it was not only out of my power to aid her, but that it was itn possible for her, however strong the claims of her husband might be, to obtain her request. These things are required for friends and dependants in England ; and in the race of competition, what chance of success has a colonist ? I made up my mind at once to forward her memorial as requested, but pondered on the propriety of adding to it a recommendation. It could do no good. At most, it would only be the certificate of an unknown man ; of one who had neither of the two great qualifica- tions, namely, county or parliamentary interest, but it might do harm. It might, by engendering ridicule from the insolence of office, weaken a claim, otlierwise well founded. " Who the devil is this Mr. Tho- mas Poker, that recommends the prayer of the petition ? The fel- low imagines all the world must have heard of him. A droll fellow that, 1 take it from his name : but all colonists are queer fellows, ehr " Bad news from home ?" said Mr. Slick, who had noticed my ab- straction. " No screw loose there, I hope. You don't look as if you liked the flavor of that ere nut you are crackin' of. Who's dead? and what is to pay now?" I read the letter and the memorial, and then explained from my own knowledge how numerous and how valuable were the services of my deceased friend, and expressed my regret at not being able to serve the memorialist. "Poor woman!" said Mr. Hopewell, "I pity her.VvA colonist has no chance for these things ; they have no patron. In this country merit will always obtain a patron — in the provinces never. The English are a noble-minded, generous people, and whoever here de- Bcrves encourageme It or reward, is certain to obtain either or both J i SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 107 but if must be a brilliant man, indeed, whose light can be perceived f across the Atlantic.",^^ " I entertain, Sir,"l said, " a very strong prejudice against rely- ing on patrons. Dr. Johnson, after a long and fruitless attendance; on Loi (1 Chesterfield, says : * Seven years, my Lord, have now past since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door ; during wliich time I have been pushing on my work, throug'.i ditFiculties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, on(! word of encouragement, or one smile of favor. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.' " " Ah !" said Mr. Hopewell, " a man who feels that he is wrong, is always angry with somebody else. Dr. Johnson is not so much to be admired for the independence that dictated that letter, as con- demned for the meanness and servility of seven years of voluntary degradation. It is no wonder he spoke with bitterness ; for, while lie Censured his Lordship, he must have despised himself. There is a great difference between a literary and political patron. The for- mer is not needed, and a man does better without one ; the latter is essential. A good book, like good wine, needs no bush; but to get an office, you want merits or patrons ; merits so great, that they can- not be passed over, or friends so powerful, they cannot be refused." " Oh ! you (^n't do nothin', Squire," said Mr. Slick, " send it back to Old Marm : tell her you have the misfortin to be a colonist ; that if her son would like to be a constable, or a hogreave, or a thistle- viewer, or sunthin' or another of that kind, you are her man : but she has got the wrong cow by the tail this time. I never hear of a patron, I don't think of a frolic I once had with a cow's tail ; and, by hanging on to it like a snappin' turtle, I jist saved my life, that's a f^ct. " Tell you what it is, Squire, take a fool's advice, for once. Here you are ; I have made you considerable well-known, that's a fact ; and will introduce you to court, to king and queen, or any body you please. For our legation, though they can't dance, p'raps, as AVfll as the French one can, could set all Europe a dancin' in wide awak<3 airnest, if it chose. v^They darsent refuse us nothin', or we would fust embargo, and then go to war.^Any one you want to know, I'll give you the ticket. Look round, seleot a good critter, and hold on to the tail, for dear life, and see if you hante a patron, worth havin'. You don't want none yourself, but you might want one some time or another, for them that's a coming arter you. " When I was a half grow'd lad, the bears came down from Nor- West one year in droves, as a body might say, and our woods nesir Slickville was jist full of 'em. It warn't safe to go a wanderin' about there a doin' of nothin', I tell you. Well, one arternoon father sends me into the back pastur', to bring home the cows. ' And,' eays he, t\ :i 108 THE ATTACH^; OR, keep a stirrin', Sam, go ahead right away, and be oat of the bushes afore sunset, on account of the bears, for that's about the varmints* Bupper-timc' • " Well, I looks to the sky, and I sees it was a considerable of a piece yet to d.aylight down, so I begins to pick strawberries as I goes filong, and you never see anything so thick as they were, and wher- ever the grass was long, they'd stand up like a little bush, and hang in clusters, most as big and twice as good, to my likin', as garden ones. Well, the sun, it appears to me, is like a boss, when it comes near dark it mends its pace, and gets on like smoke, so afore I know'd where I was, twilight had come peepin' over the spruce tops. " Off I sot, hot foot, into the bushes, arter the cows, and as always eventuates when you are in a hurry, they was further back than common that time, away ever so fur back to a brook, clean off to the rear of the farm, so that day was gone afore I got out of the weoda, and I got proper frightened. Every noise I heerd I thought it was a bear, and when I looked round a one side, I guessed I heerd one on the other, and I hardly turned to look there, before I reckoned it was behind me, I was e'en almost skeered to death. '* Thinks I, ' I shall never be able to keep up to the cows if a bear comes arter 'em and chases *em, and if I fall astam, he'll just snap up a plump little corn fed feller like me in less than half no time. Cryin',' says I, ' though, will do no good. You must be up and doin,' Sam, or it's gone goose with you.' ' So a thought struck me. Father had always been a talkin* to me about the leadin' men, and makin' acquaintance with the political big bugs when I growed up and bavin' a patron, and so on. Thinks I, I'll take the leadin' cow for my patron. So I jist goes and cuts a long tough ash saplin, and takes the little limbs off of it, and then walks alongside of Mooley, as meachin* as you please, so she mightn't suspect nothin', and then grabs right hold of her tail, and veiled and screamed like mad, and walloped away at her like any- th mg. " Well, the way she cut dirt was cautionary ; she cleared situmps, ditches, windfalls and everything, and made a straight track of it for home as the crow flies. Oh, she was a clipper ; she fairly flew again, and if ever she flagged, I laid it into her with the ash saplin, and away we started agin, as if Old Nick himself was arter us. " But afore I reached home, the rest of the cows came a bellowin', and a roarin' and a-racin* like mad arter us, and gained. on us too, so as most to overtake us, when jist as I come to the bars of the cow yard, over went Mooley, like a fox, brought me whap up agin 'em, which knocked all the wind out of my lungs and the Hre out of my eyes, and laid me sprawlin on the ground, and every one of the flock >ei:l right slap over me, all but one — poor Brindle. She never came home again Bear nabbed her, and tore her most ridiculous. r \ % I I I :i r SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 109 He eat what he wanted, which was no trifle, I can tell you, and left the rest till next time. " Don't talk to me. Squire, about merits. We all want a lift in this world ; sunthin' or another to lay hold on, to help us along — toe toant the cow^s tail. " Tell your Iriend, the female widder, she has got hold of the wrong cow by the tail in gettin' hold of you ffor you are nothin' but (I dospisable colonist) ; but to look out for some patron here, some (eadiiv man, or great lord, to clinch fast hold of him, and stick to him like a leech, and if he flags (for patrons, like old JMooley, get tired sometimes), to recollect the ash saphn, to lay it into him well, and keep him at it, and no fear but he'll carry her through. He'll fetch her home safe at last, and no mistake, depend on it, Squire. The best lesson tiiat little boy could be taught, is, that oi'^he Patron^ or the Cow's Taiir/. ^ chaptp:r XVIII. \ M » ASCOT RACES. To-day I visited Ascot. Race-courses are similar everywhere, and present the same objects ; good horses, cruel riders, knowing men, dupes, jockeys, gamblers, and a large assemblage of mixed com- pany. But this is a gayer scene than most others ; and every epi- thet, appropriate to a course, diminutive or otherwise, must be in the superlative degree when applied to Ascot. This is the general, and often the only impression that most men carry away with them. Mr. Slick, who regards these things practit'ally, called my atten- tion to another view of it. " Squire," said he, " I'd a plaguy sight sooner see Ascot than any- thing else to England. There ain't nothin' like it I don't mean the racin', because they cant go ahead like us, if they was to die for it. We ha. e colts that can whip chain lightnin', on a pinch. Old Clay trotted with it once all around an orchard, and beat it his whole length, but it singed his tail properly as he passed it, you may de- pend. It ain't its runnin' I speak of, therefore, though that ain't mean nother ; but it's got another featur', that you'll know it by from all others. Oh, it's an everlastin' pity you warn't here, when I was to England last time. Queen was there then ; and where she is, of coursii all the world and it3 wife is too. She warn't there this year, and it sarves folks right. If I was an angeiyferous queen, like her, I wouldn't go nowhere till I had a tory minister, arid then a feller no THE attacfie; or, ii ii that had a " trigger-eye" would stand a chance to get a white hemp neckcloth. I don't wonder Hume don't like young England, for when that boy grows up, he'll teach some folks that they had better let some folks jdone, or some iblks had better take care of some folk's ampersands, that's all. '' The time I speak of, people went in their carriages, and not by railroad. Now, pr'aps you don't know, in fact you can't know, for you can't cypher, colonists ain't no good at ilgures, but if you did know, the way to judge of a nation is by its private carriages. From Hyde Park coriu'r to Ascot Heath, is twenty odd miles. Well, there was one wliole endurin' stream of carriages all tiie way, sometimes bavin' one or two eddies, and where the toll-gates stood, bavin' still water for ever so far. Well, it flowed and flowed on for hours and hours without stoppin', like a river ; and when you got up to the race-ground, there was the matter of two or three tiers of carriages, with the bosses off, packed as close as pins in a f)aper. " It ct)sts near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to keep up A carriage here. Now for goodness' sake jist multiply that ever- lastin' string of carriages by three hundred pounds each, and see what's spent in that way every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand more that's in other places to England you don't see, and then tell me if rich people here ain't as thick as huckle- berries. " Well, when you've done, go to France, to Belgium, and to Prus- sia, three sizeable places for P^urope, and rake and scrape every private carx'iage they've got, and they ain't no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when you've done your cipherin', come right back to London, as hard as you can clip from the race-course, and you won't miss any of 'em ; the town is as full as ever, to your eyes. A knowin' old coon, bred and born to London, might see the difference, but you couldn't. " Arter that's over, go and pitch the whole bilin' of 'em into the Thames, bosses, carriag(!s, people, and all ; and next day, if it warn't for the black weepers and long faces of them that's lost money by it, and the black crape and happy iaces of them that's got money, or titles, or what not by it, you wouldn't know nothin' about it. Car- riages would'nt rise ten cents in the pound in the market. A stranger, like you, if you warn't told, wouldn't know nothin' was the matter above common. There ain't nothin' to England shows its wealth like this. " Says father to me when I came back, ' Sam,' sais he, ' what struck you most?' " ' Ascot Races,' sais I. " ' Jist like you,' sais he. " Rosses and galls is all you think of Wherever they be, there you are, that's a fact. You're a chip of the old block, my boy. There ain't nothin' like 'em ; is there ?' n I I >■ what r SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. Ill I m and "Well, he was half right, was father. It's worth seein' for hosses galls loo ; but it3 worth secin' for its carriage wealth alone. \IIc'av(Mis and airth, what a rich country it must be that has such a show in that line as England. Don't talk of stock, for it may fail ; or silversmiths' shops, for you can't tell what's plated ; or jewels, for they may be paste ; or goods, for they may be worth only half nothin ; but talk of the carriages, them's the witnesses tli:it don't lie./ " And what do they say? ' Calcutta keeps me, and China keep? me, and Bot'ney Bay keeps me, and Canada keei)s me, and Nova Scotia keeps me, and the wliales keep me, and the white bears keep me, and everything on the airth keeps me, everything onder the airth keeps me. In short, all the world keeps me.' " " No, not all the world, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell ; " there are some repudiative States that don't l-eep me ; and if you go to the auction-rooms, you'll see some beautiful carriages for sale, that say, ' the United States' Bank used to keep me, and some more that say, ' Nick. Biddle put me down.' " " Minister, I won't stand that," said Mr. Slick. " I won't stay here and hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for nothin'. He ain't wuss than John Bull, arter all. Ain't there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me that. Don't our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and run from England, with their fobs filled with other men's money? Ain't there lords in this country that know how to 'repu- diate' as well as ring-tail-roarers in ourn ? So come now, don't throw stones till you put your window-shutters to, or you may stand a smart chance of gettin' your own glass bi'oke^ that's a fact. "And then, Squire, jist look at the carriages. I'll bet you a goose and trimrain's you can't find their ditto nowhere. They are car- riages, and no mistake, that's a fact. Look at the bosses, the harness, the paintj the linin's, the well-dressed, lazy, idle, infarnal hansum servants (these rascals, I suspicion, are picked out for their looks), look at the whole thing all through the piece, take it, by and large, stock, lock, and barrel, and it's the dandy, that's a fact. Don't it coot money, that's all ? Sumtotalize it then, and see what it all comes to. It would make your hair stand on eend, 1 know. It' it was all put into figurs, it would reach clean across the river ; and if it was all put into dollars, it would make a solid tire of silver, and hoop the world round and round, like a wheel. V If you want to give a man an idea of England, Squire, tell him of Ascot ; and if you want to cram him, get old Multiplication-table Joe H to cast it up ; for he'll make it come to twice as much aa it railly is, and that will choke him. Yes, Squire, stick to Ascot** »1 Mill !.i 112 THE ATTACH^) ; OR, CHAPTER XIX. THE GANDER PULLING. A CUNNING man is generally a suspicious one, and is as often led into error himself by his own misconceptions, as protected from im- position by liis habitual caution. Mv. Slick, who always acted on a motive, and never on an impulse, and who concealed his real objects behind ostensible ones, imagined that everybody else was governed by the same principle of action ; and, therefore, frequently deceived himself by attributing designs to others that never existed but in his own imagination. Whether the following story of the gander pulling was a fancy sketch of the Attache, or a narrative of facts, 1 had no means of as- certaining. Strange interviews and queer conversations he con- stantly had with official as well as private individuals, but as he often gave his opinions the form of an anecdote, for the purpose of inter- esting his hearers, it was not always easy to decide whether his stories were facts or fictions. If, on the present occasion, it was of the latter description, it is manifest that he entertained no very high opinion of the constitu- tional changes effected in the government of the colonies by the "Whigs, during their long and perilous rule. If of the former kind, it is to be lamented that he concealed his deliberate convictions under an allegorical piece of humor. His disposition to " humbug" was so great, it was difficult to obtain a plain straightforward reply from him ; but had the Secretary of State put the question to him in direct terms, what he thought of Loi'd Durham's " Responsible govern- ment," and the practical working of it under Lord Sydenham's and Sir Charles Bagot's administration, he would have obtained a plain and intelligible answer. If the interview to -which he alludes ever did take place (which I am bound to add, is very doubtful, notwith- standing the minuteness with which it is detailed), it is deeply to be regretted that he was not addressed in that frank manner which could alone elicit his real sentiments ; for I know of no man so com- petent to offer an opinion on these subjects as himself. To govern England successfully, it is necessary to know the tem- per of Englishmen. Obvious as this appears to be, the frequent re- linquishment of government measures, by the dominant party, shows -2 i SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 113 that theit own statesmen are sometimes deficient in this know- ledge. Mr. Slick says, that if Sir James Graham had consulted him, he could have shown him how to carry the educational clauses of his favorite bill. This, perhaps, is rather an instance of Mr. Slick's vanity than a proof of his sagacity. But if this species of informa- tion is not easy of attainment here, even by natives, how ditticult must it be to govern a people three thousand miles off, who differ most materially in thought, word, and deed, from their official rulers. Mr. Slick, when we had not met during the day, generally visited me at night, about the time I usually returned from a dinner-party, and amused me by a recital of his adventures. " Squire," said he, " I have had a most curious capur to-day, and one that will interest you, I guess. Jist as I was a settin' down to breakfast this mornin', and was a turnin' of an egg inside out into a wine-glass, to salt, pepper and butter it for Red-lane Alley, I re- ceived a note from a Mister Pen, saying the Right Honorable Mr. Tact would be glad, if it was convenient, if I would call down to his office, to Downin' Street, to-day, at four o'clock. Thinks says I to myself, ' What's to pay now ? Is it the Boundary Line, or the Cre- ole Case, or Colonial Trade, or the Burnin' of the Caroline, or Right o' Sarch ? or what national subject is on the carpet to-day ? How- sundever,' sais I, ' let the charge be what it will, slugs, rifle-bullet, or powder, go I must, that's a fact.' So I tips him a shot right off: here's the draft, Sir, its in reg'lar state lingo. « Sir, " I have the high honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of this present first of June instant, and note its contents. The con- ference (subject unknown), proffered by the Right Honorable Mr. Tact, I accede to hereby protesting and resarving all rights of con farmation and reniggin of our Extraordinary Embassador, now ab- sent from London, at the great agricultural meetin'. I would sug- gest, next time, it would better convene to business, to insart subject of discussion, to prevent being taken at a short. " I have to assure you of the higti consideration of your most obedient servant to command. *The Hon. Sam Slick, " Attache. " Well, when the time comes, I rigs up, puts on the legation coat, calls a cab, and downs to Downing Street, and looks as dignified as I cleverly knew how. " When I enters the outer door, I sees a man in an arm-chair in the entry, and he looked like a buster, I tell you, jist ready to blow up with the steam of all the secrets he had in his byler. .1 Ill THE ATTACnfi ; OR, J I n ii ' h « ' Can I see Mr. Tact ?' sais I. " ' Tell you directly,' sais he, jist short like ; for Englishmen are kinder costive of words ; they don't use more nor will do, at no time ; and he rings a bell. This brings in his second in command ; and sais he, ' Pray Avalk in here, if yon please, Sir,' and he led me into a little plain, stage-conch-house hwkin' room, withmothin' but a table and two or three chairs in it; and says he, ♦ Who shall I say. Sir?* "'The Honorable Mr. Slick' sais I, ' Attache of the American Legation to the court of Saint Jimses' Victoria.' '• Off he sot ; and there 1 waited and waited for ever so long, but he didn't come back. Well I walked to the winder and looked out, but there was nothin' to see there ; and then I turned and looked at a great big map on the wall, and there was nothin' I didn' know there ; and then I took out my penknife to whittle, but my nails was all whittled off already, exeept one, and that was made into a pen, and- 1 didn't like to spile that ; and^fis thei*e wasn't anytliing I could get hold of, I jist sliverc(f a great big bit oft' the leg of the chair, and began to make a toothpick of it. -'And when I had got that iin- ished, 1 begins to get tired ; for nothin' makes me so peskilly oneasy as to be kept waitin' ; for if a clockmaker don't know the valy of time, who the plague does ? " So jist to pass it away, I began to hum ' Jim Brown.* Did you ever hear it, Squire ? it's a'most a beautiful air, as most all them nigger songs are. I'll make you a varse, that will suit a des- picable colonist exactly. I went up to London, the capital of the nation, To See Lord Stanley, and get a sitivation. -' Says he to me, ' Sam Slick, what can you dol' Says L ' Lord Stanley, jist as much as you.' Liberate the rebels, and 'mancipate the niggers, * Hurror for our side, and damn thimble-riggers. " Airth and seas ! If you was to sing that 'ere song there, how it would make 'em stare — wouldn't it ? Such words as them -was never heerd in that patronage office, I guess ; and yet folks must have often thort it too — that's a fact. " I was a hummin' the rael 'Jim Brown,' and got as far as Play upon the banjo, play u[)on the fiddle. Walk £tbout the town, and abuse old Diddle, I'd be| him s( hat a clothi'il an ol( way), ant ; "'11 had jiJ he sen| it's a " Tf spelt t[ feller, down I and nc "Sc there "'I you. was S( sais iu was c< 4 I I ,1 < iMf Hi 1 1 116 THE ATTACH^; OR, ^iven liim that sly poke ; but I didn't like his talkin' that way to mo. Whcnoviii" a ff Her tries to pull the wool over your eyes, it's a sign he don't think Ingh of your onderstandin'. It isn't complimen- tai, that's a fact. * One is a serious offunco, I meati,' sais he ; ' tlio other is not. We don't want to sarch ; we only want to look a shi- ver in the face, and see whether he is a free and enliglitt'ni'd Ameri- can or not. If he is, the flag of liberty protects liim and his slaves; if he ain't, it don't protect him, nor them nother.' " Then he did a leadin* article on slavery, and a paragi'aph on non-intervention, and spoke a little soft sawder about America, and wound up by askin' me if he had made himself onderstood. " ' Plain as a boot-jack,' sais I. " When that was over, he took breath. He sot back on his chair, put one leg over the other, and took a fresh departur' agin. '* ' I have read your books, Mr. Slick,' said he, ' and read 'em, too, with great [deasure. You have; been a great traveller in your day. You've boon round the world a'most, haven't you ?' " * Well,' sais I, ' I sharn't say I hante.' " ' What a deal of information a man of your observation must have acquired!' (He is a gentlemanly man, that, you may depend. I don't know when I've see'd one so well mannered.) " ' Not so much, Sir, as you would suppose,' sais I. " ' Whv, how so ?' sais he. " ' Why,* sais I, ' the first time a man goes round the world, he is plaguy skeered for fear of fallin' off the edge ; the second time he gets used to it, and learns a good deal.' " ' Fallin' otF the edge !' sais he : ' what an original idea that is ! That's one of your best. I like your works for that they are ori- ginal. We have nothin' but imitations now. Fallin' off the edge, that's capital. I must tell Peel that; for he is very fond of that sort of thing.' " He was a very pretty spoken man, was Mr. Tact ; he is quite the gentleman, that's a fact. I love to hear him talk ; he is so very perlite, and seems to take a likin' to me parsonally." Few men are so open to flattery as Mr. Slick ; and although " soft sawder " is one of the artifices he constantly uses in his inter- course with others, he is often thrown off his guard by it himself. How much easier is it to discover the weaknesses of others than to Bee our own ! But to resume the story. " ' You have been a good deal in the colonies, haven't you ?* Baid he. " ' Considerable sum,* sais I. ' Now,' sais I to myself, ' this is the raal object he sent for me for ; but I won't tell him nothin'. If be'd a up ard askt me right off the reel, like a man, he'd a .found } ^s U i Sir.' u ( U ( right SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 117 lat way to !.yt'S it's a Jinplimcn- l«e ; ' tho ook a sla- (1 Ameri" lis slaves; graph on rica, and his chair, read 'em, r in your ion must depend. vorld, ho )nd time that is ! aie ori- tie edge, that sort is quite so very ilthough lis inter- himself. than to t you?* ' this is in'. If i -found « i s m me up to the notch ; but ho thort to play me off. Now I'll sarvo him out his own way ; eo here goes.' " ' Your long acquaintance with the provinces, and familiar inter- course with the people,* sais he, 'must have made you quite at home on all colonial topics.' " • I thought so once,' sais I ; * but I don't think so now no more, Sir.' *' * Why, how is that ?' sais he. " < Why, Sir,' sais I, * you can hold a book so near your eyes aa not to be able to read a \K)rd of it ; hold it off further, and get tho right focus, and you can read it beautiful. \Now the right distance to see a colony, and know all about it, is England. Three thousand miles is the right focus for a political spy-glass. A man livin' here, and who never was out of England, knows twice as much about the provinces as I do.'y/ " ' Oh, you are joking,' sais he. " * Not a bit,' sais I. 'I find folks here that not only know every- thing about them countries, but have no doubts upon any matter, and ask no questions ; in fact, they not only know more than me, but more than the people themselves do, what they want. It's curi- ous, but it's a fact. A colonist is the most beautiful critter in natur to try experiments on, you ever see ; for he is so simple and good- natured, he don't know no better ; and so weak, he couldn't help himself if he did. There's great fun in making these experiments, too. It puts me in mind of " Gander Pulling ;" you know what that is, don't you ?" " ' No,' he said, ' I never heard of it. Is it an American sport ?* " ' Yes,' sais I, ' it is ; and the most excitin' thing, too, you ever see.' " ' You are a very droll man, Mr. Slick,* said he, ' a very droll man indeed. In all your books there is a great deal of fun ; but in all your fun there is a meanin*. Your jokes hit, and hit pretty hard, too, sometimes. They make a man think as well as laugh. But describe this Gander Pulling.' " ' Well, I'll tell you how it is,* sais I. * First and foremost, a ring-road is formed, like a small race-course ; then, two great long posts is fixed into the ground, one on each side of the road, and a rope made fast by the eends to each post, leavin' the middle of the rope to hang loose in a curve. Well, then they take a gander and pick his neck as clean as a babby's, and then grease it most beautiful all the way from the breast to the head, till it becomes as slippery as a soaped eel. Theu they tie both his legs together with a strong piece of cord, of the size of a halyard, and hang him by the feet to the middle of the swingin' rope, with his head downward. All the youngsters, ^11 round the country, come to see the sport, mounted a horseback as 118 TIIK ATTACI16; OR, " ' Wi'U, tlif owner of tlio goos^goes round witli his liat, nnd gets Fo nuicli u |)i('('(i in it (Voni v.vrry one that enters for the *' I'lillin;" and when all have entered, they bring their hosscs in a line, 0,10 nrter anotljer ; a'^id at the word-", ' Go a-head !' off tliey stst, as hard as they ean -plit ; nnd as they pa^s under the goose, make a grab at him; nnd whoeviT carries olf ih(! head, wins. " ' Wi.'ll, the goose dodges Ids liead and Ihips his wings, and swings about so, it ain't no easy matter to cUiteh his ne i do it i:. cautionary. One gets throwed, another gets all covered "with grease, a third loses his hat, a fourth gets run away with by his horse, a fifth sees It can't do it, makes some excuse, and leaves the ground afore the sport is over ; and now and then an unfortunate critter geta a hyste thi>i, breaks his own neck. There is only one on 'em that ] have see'd ' Ui there, that cm do it right. " 'It iCipiires sorrio experience, that's a fact. But let John Bull alone for that; ho is a critttr that thinks he knows everytning; and if you told him ae didn't, he wouldn't believe you, not he. Iie'(? I -^ Ik ndy you M goosel Tyin'l right eyes. 1 as 1 (I is thi-j is rn(| not hill wish ofier ttdvai he he a pok SAM Pr.lCK JN ENGLAND. 119 idc, 1118 )iily pity your i^nomuco, and loo! dnmlfiil sorry for you. Oil, if you want to see liigli life, (roiu'' and see "ft colonial ^^ander pulling." "'Tyin;T up a ^oosc, Sir, is no j^fat liann,* ^ais I, '^eein' that a pooso was inne. Tyin' up a coloni.-it hy the heels is anotlK-r lliinj]^. 1 don't think it rij^iU ; hut I don't k!i()W notliin'; I've had the hook too close to my eyes. \ Joe II — ^'^—o, that never "was there, ran tell you twiee as miu!h j as I can ahout the colonies. The focus to see right, as I said afore,, is three tlutusand miles otK' y '' ' Well,' sais he, » that's a capital illustration, Mr. Slick. There in 'note in it than meets the ear. Don't tell me you don't know jiotliin' about the colonies ; few men know so much as you do. I wish to heavens you was a colonist,* sais he ; ' if you were, I would offer you a government.' " ' I don't doubt it,' says I ; ' seein' that your department linve udvaneed or rewarded so many colonists already.' But I don't think he heard that shot, and I warn't sorry for it ; for it'a not right to bo a pokin' it into a perlite man, is it ? " ' 1 must tell the (^uCen that story of the Gander PxlUnri^* sais he ; ' I lik(^ it amazingly. It's a capital caricature. I'll send the idea to II. Ii. Pray name some day when you are disengaged ; 1 hope you will give me the pleasure of dining with me. Will this day fortnight suit you ? ' *' ' Thank you,' sais I, ' I shall have great pleasure.' " He railly was a gentlemanly man, that. lie was so good-natured, and took the joke so well, I was kinder sorry I played it off on him, I hante see'd no man to England I affection so much s Mr. Tact, I swear ! I begin to think, arter all, it was the right of sarchin* vessels he Avanted to talk to me about, instead of sarchin' me, as I suspicioned. It don't do always to look for motives ; men often act without any. The next time, if he axes me, I'll talk plain, and jist tell him what I do think ; but still, if he reads that riddle right, ho may larn a good deal, too, from the story of ' the Gander Pulling, mayn't he ?" /.■.,./:!' I witn liorse. iM round r geta '1 that ] i CHAPTER XX. THE BLACK STOLE. Thk i)i\'going sketch exhibits a personal trait in Mr. Slick's charac a, the present a national one. In the interview, whether real or fanciful, <1i n 4e alleges to have had with one of the Secre- taries of State, he was not disposed to give a direct reply, becausa 120 THE ATTACHE; OB, i his habitual caution led him to suspect that an attempt was made to draw liim out on a particular topic without his being made aware of the object. On the present occasion, he exhibits that irritability which is so common among all his countrymen, at the absurd ac- counts that travellers give of the United States in general, and the gross exaggerations they publish of the state of slavery in par- ticular. That there is a party in this country, whose morbid sensibility is» pandered to on the subject of negro emancipation, there can be no doubt, as is proved by the experiment made by Mr. Slick, recorded in this chapter. On this subject every man has a right to his own opinions, but any interference with the municipal regulations of another country is so utterly unjustifiable, that it cannot be wondered at that the Americans resent the conduct of the European abolitionists in the most unqualified and violent manner. The conversation that I am now about to repeat took place on the Thames. Our visits, hitherto, had been restricted by the rain to London. To-day. the weather being fine, we took passage on board of a steamer, and went to Greenwich. While we were walking up and down the deck, Mr. Slick again adverted to the story of the government spies with great warmth. I endeavored, but in vain, to persuade him that no regular organ- ized system of espionage existed in England. He had obtained a garbled account of one or two occurrences, and his prejudice (v/hich, notwithstanding his disavowal, I knew to ha so strong as to warp all his opinions of England and the English), immediately built up a system, which nothing I could say could at all shake. I assured him the instances he had mentioned were isolated and unauthorized acts, told in a very distorted manner, but that mitiga- ted, as they really were, when truly related, they were at the time received w ith the unanimous disapprobation of every right-thinking man in the kingdom, and that the odium which had fallen on the relators was so immeasurably greater than what had been bestowed on the thoughtless principals, there was no danger of such things again occurring in our day. But he was immovable. *' Oh, of course, it isn't true," he said, " and every Englishman will swear it's a falsehood. But you must not expect us to disbe- lieve it, nevertheless ; for your travellers who come to America, pick up, here and there, some absurd ontruth or another ; or, ii they are all picked up already, invent one ; and although every man, woman, and child is ready to take their Bible oaths it is a bam, yet the English believe this one false witness in prefrence to the whole nation. " You must excuse me, Squire ; you have a right to your opinion, though it seems you have no right to blart it out always ; butVl am t SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND. 121 things a freeman — I was raised in Sliekville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of America, whicli is a free country, and no mistake ; and I have a right to my opinion, and a riglit to speak it, too ; and let me see the man, airl or commoner, ])arlia- montcrer or sodger oificer, tliat dare to report me, I guess lie'd 'vish lieVl been born a week later, that's all. I'd make a caution of luin, / know. I'd polish his dial-plate fust, and then I'd feel his short ribs, so as to make him larf. a leetle, jist a leetle the loudest he ever heerd. Lord, he'd think thunder and lightniu' a mint julip to it. I'd ring him in the nose as they do pigs in my country, to prevent them rootin' up w hat they hadn't ought."/^ Having excited himself by his own story, he first imagined a case and then resented it, as if it had occurred. I expressed to him my great regret that he should visit England with these feelings and prejudices, asjl had hojjcd his conversation would have been as ra- tional and as amusing as it was in Nova 8cotia][_and concluded by saying that I felt assured he would find that no such prejudice existed here against his countrymen, as he entertained towards the English. " Lord love you!" said he, " I have no prejudice. I am the mo^t candid man you ever see. I have got some grit, but I ain't ugly — I ain't, indeed." " But you are wrong about the English ; and I'll prove it to you. Do you see that turkey there ?" said he. " Where ?" I asked. " I see no turkey ; indeed, I have seen none on board. What do you mean ?" " Why, that slight, pale-faced, student-like Britisher ; he is a turkey, that feller. He has been all over the Union, and he is a goin' to write a book. He was at New York when we left, and was introduced to me in the street. To make it liquorish, he has got all the advertisements about runaway slaves, sales of niggers, cruel mistresses and licentious masters, that he could pick up. He is a caterer and panderer to EogUsh hj'ipocrisy* There is nothin' too gross for him to swaller. We call them turkeys ; first, because they travel so fast — for no bird travels hot foot that way, except it be an ostrich — and because they gobble up everything that comes in their way. Them fellers will swaller a falsehood as fast as a turkey does a grasshopper ; take it right down whole, without winkin'. " Now, as we have nothin' obove particular to do, ' I'll cram him' for you ; I will show you how hungry he'll bite at a tale of horror, let it be never so onlikely ; how readily he will believe it, because it is agin us ; and then, when his book comes out, you shall see that all England will credit it, though I swear I invented it as a cram, and you swear you heard it told as a joke. They've drank in so much that is strong, in thiss way, have the English, thf y require G I". ! 1 122 THE attache; or, ) ! 'I ii'essing a hope that he would publish his observations soon, as few tourists were so well qualified for the task as himself. Poinding these preliminary remarks taken in good part, he com- menced the {)rocess of " cramming." '' But oh, my friend," said h(!, with a mo-t sanctimoniovTS air, ""did you visit, and 1 am ashamed as an American citizen to ask the (jucstion, I feel the blood a tannin' of my cheek when I inquire, did you visit the Soutli ? That land that is polluted with slavery, that laud where bo;istin' and crackin' of freemen pile up the agony pangs on the corroding wounds inflicted by the iron chains of the slave, until natur can't stand it no more ; ray heart bleeds like a stuck crilter, when I think of this plague spot on the body politic. I ought not to speak thus ; prudence forbids it, national pride forbids it ; but '^(tnuwinc feelings is too strong for pollite forms. ' Out of the fulness of tlie heart the mouth speaketh.' Have you been there ?" "Turkey" was thrown otF his guard — he opened his wallet, whicli was well stocked, and retailed his stories, many of them so very rich, that I doubted the capacity of the Attache to out-Herod him. Mr. Slick received these tales with evident horror, and com- plimented the narrator with a well simulated groan ; and when he iiad done, said, " Ah, I see how it is — they purposely kept dark about the most atrocious features of slavery. Have you never seen the Gougin' School?" '• No, never." " What, not seen the Gougin' School ?" " No, Sir ; I never heard of it." " Wliy, you don't mean to say so ?** " 1 do, indeed, I assure you." " Well, if that don't pass ! And you never even heerd tell of it, ch ?" " Never, Sir. I have never either seen or heard of it." " I thought as much," said Mr. Slick. " I doubt if any Britisher C'vei did or ever will see it. Well, Sir, in South Carolina, there a f ■n <>, did k ■y SAM SLICK IN ENGuaND. 123 a man called Josiali Wormwood; I am ashamed to say he is u Con- necticut man. For a considerable of a spell, he was a strollin' preacher, bat it didn't pay in the long run. There is so much com- petition in that line in our country, that he consaited the business was overdone, and he opened a Lyceum to Cliarleston Soutli Car, for boxin', wrestlin', and other purlite British accomplishments ; and a most a beautiful sparrer he is, too; I don't know as I ever see a more scientific gentleman than he is, in that line. Lately, he has halfed on to it the art of gougin' or ' monokolism,' jis he calls it, to sound grand ; and if it weren't so dreadful in its consequences, it sartainly is a most allurin' thing, is gougin'. The sleight-of-hand is beautiful. All other sleights, we know, are tricks ; but this is reality : tliere is the eye of your adversary in your hand ; there is no mistake. It's the real thing. You feel you have him ; that you have set your mark on him, and that you have took your satisfac- tion. Tiie throb of delight felt by a ' monokolister ' is beyond all conception." " Oh heavens !" said the traveller. " Oh horror *>f horrors ! I never heard anything so dreadful. Your manner oi telling it, too, adds to its terrors. You appear to view the practice with a proper Christian disgust ; and yet you talk like an amateur. Oh, the thing is sickening !" " It is, indeed," said Mr. Slick, " particularly to b*m that loses his peeper. But the dexterity, you know, is another thing. It is very scientific. He has two niggers, has Squu-e Wc»»'mwood, who teach the wrastlin' and gouge-sparrin' ; but practisin' ^nr tlie eye is done for punishment of runaways. He has j)leuty of s'^bjects. All the planters send their fugitu-e niggers there to be pr/^.tised on for an eye. The scliolars ain't allowed to take mo»'e than one eye out of them ; if they do, they have to pay for the mager ; ^or he is no sort o' good after for nothin' but to pick oakum. I conW go through the form, and give you the cries to the life, but t wop t ; it is too horrid ; it really is too- dreadful." ' " Oh do, I beg of you," said the traveller. " I cannot, indeed ; it is too shocking. It will di'^gusJ you." " Oh, not at all," said Turkey. " When I know »t i# simulated, and not real, it is another thing." " I cannot, indeed," said Mr. Slick. " It would ."hocH rov phi- lanthropic soul, and set your very teeth of humanity ^n edge. But have you ever seen — the Black Stole ?" " No." " Never seen the Black Stole ?" " No, never." " Why, it ain't possible ? Did you never hear of it not her ?" " No, never. Well, now, do tell !" " So you never hcerd tell of it, /,or never sot eyes oit it ?" : 124 THE ATTACHi;; OB, li~' > I- M '* Certainly never." " Well, that bangs the bush, now ! I suppose you didn't. Guesa you never did, and never will, nor no other traveller, uother, that ever fitept in shoe-leather. They keep dark about these atroeities. Well, the Black Stole is a loose kind of shirt-coat, like an English carter's frock ; only, it is of a different color. It is black instead of white, and made of nigger hide, beautifully tanned, and dressed as soft as a glove. It ain't every nigger's hide that's fit for a stole. If they are too young, it is too much like kid ; if they are too old, it's like sole leather, it's so tough ; and if they have been whipt, as all on 'era have a'most, why the back is all cut to pieces, and the hide ruined. It takes several sound nigger skins to make a stole ; but when made, it's a beautiful article, that's a fact. " It is used on a plantation for punishment. When the whip don't do its work, strij) a slave, and jist clap on to him the Black Stole. Dress him up in a dead man's skin, and it frightens him near about to death. You'll hear him screech for a mile a'most*, so 'tarnally skeered. And the best of the fun is, that all the rest of the herd, bulls, cows, and calves, run away from him, just as if he was a painter." " Fun, Sir ! Do you call this fun ?" "Why sartainly I do. Ain't it better nor whippin' to death? Wat's a Stole arter all ? It's nothin' but a coat. Philosophizin' on it. Stranger, there is nothin' to shock a man. The dead don't feel. Skiunin', then, ain't cruel, nor is it immoral. To bury a good hide, is waste — waste is wicked. There are more good hides buried in the States, black and white, every year, than would pay the poor- rates and state-taxes. They make excellent huntin'-coats, and would make beautiful razor-straps, bindin' for books, and such like things ; it would make a noble export. Tannin' in hemlock bark cures the horrid nigger flavor. But then we hante arrived at that state of phi- losophy ; and when it is so confined to one class of the human family, it would be dangerous. Tiie skin of a crippled slave might be M'orth more than the critter was himself; and I make no doubt, we should soon hear of a stray nigger being shot for his hide, as you do of a moose for his skin, and a bear for his fur. " Indeed, that is the reason (though I shouldn't mention it as an Attache) that our government won't now concur to suppress the slave-trade. They say the pj-isoners will all be murdered, and their peels sold ; and that vessels, instead of taking in at Africa a cargo of humans, will take in a cargo of hides, as they do to South Amer- ica. As a Clu'istian, a pl'ihinthropist, indeed, as a man, this is a hor- rid Euhjecl to coutcmplato, ain't it?" "Indeed it i-:," s^jiid Turkey. "I feel a little overcome — head swims — I am oppressed with nausea — I must go below." " How the goney swallered it all, didn't he ?" said Mr. Slick, with I ii ste \' IV. SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 125 great glee. " Hante he a most beautiful twist, that feller? IIow he j-obbled it down, tank, shank and flank at a gulp, didn't he. Oh he is a Turkey and no mistake, that chap. But see here. Squire; jist look through the skylight. See the critter, how liis pencil is a leg- gin' it off, for dear life. Oh, there is great fun in crammin' those fellern. " Now'"tell me candid. Squire ; do you think thci-e is no i)rejudice in the Britishers agin us and our free and enlightened country, when they can swaller such stuff as the Gougin' School and Black Stole f" \'\ CHAPTER XXI. THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE'S HORSE. I il " There is more in that story, Squire," said Mr. Hopewell, " of the Patron, and Sam's queer illustration of the Cow's Tail, than you are aware of. The machinery of the cok'uios is good enough in itself, but it wants a safety valve. \"\Vhen the pres.^ure witiiin is too great, there should be something devised to let off the steam. /This • is a subject well worthy of your consideration ; and if you h6,ve an opportunity of conversing with any of the inini.->try, pray draw their attention to it. By not understanding this, the English have caused one revolution at home, and another in America." " Exactly," said Mr. Slick. " It reminds me of what I once saw done by the Prince de Joinville's horse, on the Halifax road." " Pardon me," said Mr. Hopewell, "you shall have an opportunity presently of telling your story of the Prince's horse, but suiil'r me to proceed. N^" England, besides other outlets, has a never-failing one in the colo- nies, but the colonies have no outlet. ^ Cromwell and Hampden were actually embarked on board of a ves'sel in the Tliames, for Boston, when they were prevented from sailing by an Order in Council. What was the consequence ? The sovereign was dethroned. In- stead of leading a small sect of fanatical puritans, and being the lirst men of a village in Massachusetts, they aspired to be the lii'st men in an empire, and succeeded. So in the old colonies. Had Wash- ington been sent abroad in command of a regiment, Adams to govern a colony, Franklin to make experiments in an observatory like that at Greenwich, and a more extended field been opened to colonial talent, the United States would still have continued to be dependen- cies of Great Britahi. V *' There is no room for men of talent in British America ; and bv \i I 126 THE attach!:; or, not affording them an opportunity of distinguishing themselves, or rewarding tliem when they do, they are always ready (o make one, by oppositioHy/ In comparing their situation with tliat of the British Isles, they feel that tliey labor under disabilities; tliese disabilities tliey feel as a degradation ; and as those who impose tliat degrada- tion live three thousand miles off, it becomes a question whetlier it is better to suffer or resist." " The Prince de Joinville's horse," said Mr. Slick, " is a case in pint." " One moment, Sam," said Mr. ^lopewell. "The very word * dejiendencies' sliows the state of the colonies. If they are to be retained, tliey sliould be incorporated witli Great Britain. \ The people should be made to feel, not that they are colo- nists, but^EnglishmenV They may tinker at consfitutioiis as much as they please ; the root of the evil lies deeper than stat(>5-men are aware of. O'Connell, when h ' agitatLS for a repeal of the Union, if he really has no ulterior objects iDe}ond that of an Irish Parliament, does not know what he is talking about. If his request Avere granted, Ireland would become a province, and descend from being an in- tegral part of the empire, into a dependency. Had he ever lived in a colony, he would have known the tendencies of such a condition. " What I desire to see is the very reverse. Now that st(^am has united the two continents of I^urope and America, in such a maimer that you can travel from Nova Scotia to England in as short a time as it once required to go from Dublin to London, I should hope for a united legislature. Recollect that the distance from New Orleans to the head of the Mississippi River is greater than fron\ Halifax, N.S., to Liverpool, G.B. VI do not want to see colonists and Eng- lishmen arrayed against each other, as different races, but united as one people, having the same rights and privileges, each bearing a share of the public burdens, and all having a voice in the general government/ \" The love of distinction is natural to man. Three millions of people caiinot be shut up in a colony. They will either turn on each other, or unite against their keeiiers. The road that leads to retire- ment in the provinces should be o])en to those whom the hope of dis- tinction invites to return and contend for the honors of tlie empire. At present the egress is practically closed." "If you was to talk forever, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "you couldn't say more than the Prince de Joinville's boss on that subject." The interruption was very annoying ; for no man I ever met so thoroughly understands the subject of colonial government as^Mr. Hopewell. His experience is greater than that of any man now living, and his views more enlarged and more philosophical. " Go on, Sam," said he, with great good humor. " Let us het^r what the Prince's horse said." J k t SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 127 li " "Well," paid Mr. Slick, " I doi/t jist exactly mean to say lie spoke, as Balaam's donkey did, in good P^nglish or French nother ; but ho did that that spoke a whole book, with a handsum wood-cut to the fore, and that's a fact, " About two years agu^ one mortal briliu' hot day, as T was a i)okiii' along the road from Halifax to Windsor, with Old Clay in the wa;i- gon, with my coat oil", a ridiu' in my shirt-sleeves, and a thinkin' ho.v slick a mint-julep would travel down re him, if they was to die ibr it. "' Sais 1 to niyseh^ ' A joke is a j'>ke, if it tante carried too iar, but thi.s critter will be strangled, as sure as a gun, if he lays here splut- terin' this way much longei-.' So 1 jist gives the boss a dab in the moutli, and made him git up ; and then sais I, ' Prince,' sais I, for I know'd him by his beard, he had one exactly like one of the oK I ■I i 3 128 THE ATTACH^:; OR, 1 Aaint's heads in an Eyetalian pictur, all dressed to a pint, so sais I, * Prince,' and a plaguy handsura man he is too, and as full of fun as a kitten, so sais I, ' Prince,' and what's better, all his oflicers seemed plaguy proud and fond of him too ; so sais I, ' Prince, voila le con- dition of one colonist, which,' sais I, ' Prince, means in English, that leftenant is jist like a colonist.' " ' Commong,' says he, * how is dat ?' ■" " ' Why,' sais 1, ' Prince, whenever a colonist goes for to drink at a spring of the good things in this world (and plaguy small springs they have here too), ond fairly lays down to it, jist as he gets his lips cleverly to it, for a swig, there is some cussed neck or another, of some confounded ]Jritisher, pops right over him, and pins him thei'e. He can't get up, he can't back out, and he can't drink, and he is blacked and blued in the face, and most chok^'d with the weight.V " 'What country was you man of?' said he, for he spoke very gool for a Frenchman. " With that I straightened myself up, and looked dignified, for I know'd I had a riglit to be proud, and no mistake ; sais I, ' Prince, I am an American citizen.' IIow them two words altered him. P'raps there beant no two words to ditto 'em. He looked for all the world like a dilferent man when he seed I wasn't a mean ousarcura- sised colonist. " ' Veiy glad to see you, Mr. Yankee,' said he, * very glp 1 indeed. Shall I have de honour to ride with you a little way in your car- nage ?' " ' As for the matter of that,' sais I, ' Mountsheer Prince, the ho- nour is all the other way,' for I can be as civil as any man, if he sets out to act pretty and do the thing genteel. " With that he jumped right in, and then he said somethin' in French to the officers ; some order or another, I suppose, about comin on and fetchin' his ho^^s with them. I have hearn in my time, a good many men spe-ik French, but I never see the man yet, that could hold a candle to him. Oh, it was like lightnin', jist one long endurin' streak ; it seemed all one sentence and one word. It was beautiful, but I couldn't onderstand it, it was so everlastin' fast. " Now,' sais he, ' set sail.' And off we sot, at the rate of sixteen notts an hour. Old Clay pleased him, you may depend ; he turned round and clapped his hands, and larfed, and waved his hat to his officers to come on ; and they whipped, and spurred, and galloped, and raced for dear life ; but we dropped 'em astarn like anything, and he laifed again, heartier than ever. There is no people a'most, like to ride so fast as sailors ; they crack on, like a house a fire. " Well, arter a while, sais he, ' liack topsails,' and I hauled up, and he jumped down, and outs with a pocket book, and takes a beautiful gold coronation medal. (It was solid gold, no pinchback, but the rael yaller stuff, jist fresh, irom King's shop to Paris, where ' SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 129 his money is made), and fuU lie, ' Mv. Yankee, will ;, accept that to rcmc mbcr tlu; Pi-inc(f do Ji)iiuillt! and his horse by .'" And then he took oiF hi,s hat and nuido me a bow — and it' that warn't a bow, then I never see one, that's all. 1 don't believe mortal man, unless it was a riiihidelphla niji;j;er, could make such a bow. It wa.^ enouf]fh to sprain liis ankle, Ik; cnrh'd so low. And then oi'Fhe went, willi a hop, skip, and a jump, sailor iU-hlon, baek to meet his people. " Now, S(inii'c, if you see Lord Slnnlcy, tell him that story of the Prince de Joinville's horse ; but belbie you get so far .as that, pin him by admissions. When you want to get a man on the hip, ax him a question or two, and get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he must stand and let you put on the bridle. lie can't help it, no how he can iix it. *' Says you,*' My Lord' — don't forget his title — every man likt>3 the sound of that, it's music to his ears, it's like our splendid na- tional air, Yankee Doodle, you n(jver get tired of it./ ' My Lord,' sais you, ' what do you suppose is the reason the French keep Al- giers '^' Well, he'll up and say, it's an outlet for the fiery spiHts of France — it gives them employment and an opportunity to dis- tinguish themselves, and what the climate and the inimy spare, become valuable ollicei-s. It makes good soldiers out of bad sub- jects. " ' Do you call that good policy ?" sais you. '' Well, he's a trump, is Mr. Stanley — at least folks say so ; and he'll say right off the reel, ' onquestionably it is — excellent policy.' " When he says that, you have him bagged — be may flounder and spring like a salmon jist caught ; but he can't get out of the landin' net. You've got him, and no mistake. Sais you, • What outlet have you for the colonies ?' " Well, he'll scratch his head and stare at that, for a space. Ile'Il hum and haw a little to get breath, for he never thought of that afore, since he grow'd up ; but he's no fool, I can tell you, and he'll out with his mould, run an ans\v<'r and be ready for you in no time. He'll say, ' They don't retpiire none. Sir. They have no redundant population. They are an outlet themselves.' " Sais you, 'I wasn't talking of an outlet for population, for France or the provinces nother. I was talking of an outlet for the clever men, for the onquiet ones, lor the liery spirits.' " ' For that, Sir,' he will say, ' they have the local patronage.' " ' Oh !' sais you, ' I warn't aware, I beg pardon, I have been absent some time, as long as twenty days, or perhaps twenty-five— there must have been great changes since I left.' " ' The garrison ?' sais you. " ' Is English,' sais he. 6* 130 THE ATTACHiJ; OR, f IM " ' The armed ships in the harbor ?' " ' pjiglish.' •* * Tlic governor and his secretary ?' « * English.' " ' Tl)e principal officer of customs and principal part of his dcpu* ties ?' " ' English.' " ' The commis.-ariat and the staff?' " ' English to a man.' *' ' Th(' dockyard people ?' " ' p:ngli.>h.' " ' The postmaster gineral ?' " « English.' " ' What, English?' sais you, and look all surprise, as if you didn'* know. ' I thought he was a coloni t, seein' the province pays so much for the mails.' " ' No,' he'll say, ' not now ; we have jist sent an English one over, for we find it's a good thing that.' " ' One word moi'c,' says you, ' and I have done. If your army oilicers out there get leave of absence, do you stop their pay ?' « ' No.' " ' Do you sarve native colonists the same way ?' " ' No, we stop half their salaries.' "'Exactly,' sais you, 'make them feel the differct> *e. Always [ make a nigger feel he is a nigger, or he'll get sa^sy, you may de- : pend. ^^s for patronage,' sais you, 'you know as well as I do, that i all that's not worth bavin', is jist left to poor colonist./'IIe is an oifi- • cer of militia, gets no pay, and finds his own fit-out. Like Don Quixote's tailor, he works for nothin', and finds thread. Any other little matters of the same kind, that nobody wants, and nobody else will take, if Blue-nose makes interest for, and has good luck, he can get as a groat favor, to conciliate his countiymen. No, Min- ister,' says you, ' you are a clever man, everybody says you are . brick ; and if you ain't, you talk more like one, than anybody I have seen this while past. 1 don't want no office myself; if I did, p'raps I wouldn't talk about patronage this way ; but\l am a colo- nist, I want to see the colonists remain so. They are attached to England, that's a fact — keep them so by making them Euyliahmen. Throw the door wide open ; patronize tliem ; enlist tliem in the im- perial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for honors, and let them win them, if they can. If they don't it's their own fault, and cuss 'em, they ought to be kicked ; for if they ain't too lazy, there is no mistake in 'em, that's a fact. The country will be proud of ead. Their go angu£ be our army, the delighted critters will say, not the English army.; our navy, our ci iroh, our parliament, our aristocracy, k.Q., and the f SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. Wi word English will be l(;ft out bolus-boliifl, aid that proud, that en- dearin' word " our," will bu insartcdy/ Do this, and you will show yourself the first statesman of nuKlern time:^. You'll rise right up to the top of the pot, ycni'll go clean over Peel's head, as you folk--, go over oiirn, not byjumpin' (iver him, but by takia' him by the neck and sqiioe/in' liiin down. Vifou 'mancipated the blaeks, no\, liberatrov()kt's me, is to hear him go blartin' all over the connlry about home seen(!s, ami beautiful hindscape, iiml rieh var- dure. \^My sakes, the vai'hire here is so deep, it looks like mournin*; it's actilly dismal. Then there's no water lo ;^ive light to the pic- liir, and no sun to cheer it ; and the hedges are all sciuare ; and (he line trees are aa stiil" as an old gall that was once pretty, and has I grown proud on the memory ot'it. ,/ " 1 don't like their landscape a oit — there ain't no natur in it.. Oh! if yon go, take him along with you, for he will put you iu coniait of all you see, except reform, dissent, and things o' that kind; for lie in an out and out old Tory, and thinks nothin' can be ejiangcd here lor id di 1/ the better, except them that don't agree with him, " lie was a warnin' you t'other day not to tak(! all 1 said for Gos- pel about society here; but you'll see who's right and who'a wrong afore you've done, 1 know. I described to you, when you I'eturned from (Jennany, Dinlu' out to Loiulon. Now I'll give you my opin-- ion of ' Life in tlte Country.^ And fust of all, as I was a sayin*, there is no such thing as natur' here. Everything is artilicial; everything of its kind alike; and everything oninteiestin' and tire- some. "• \V(.'ll, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, the country, I guess, is a little mucher. Life in the country is differ- ent, of course, from life in town ; but still life itself is alike there, exceptiu' again class difference. That is, nobility is all alike, as far us their order goes ; and couJilry g«!nts is alike, as far as their class goes ; and the last especially, when they haute travelled noiu;, ever- lastin* flat, in their own way. Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, and I'll tell you what you will find — a soit of Washington State House jilace. It is either a rail old castle of the geimine kind, or a gingerbread erinkum crankujji imitation of a thing that only existed in fancy, but never was seen afore — a thing that's made modern for use, and in ancient stile for shew ; or else it's a great cold, formal, slice of a London terrace, stuck on a hill in a wood. " Well, there is lawn, park, artificiivl pond called a lake, deer that's fashionableized and civilized, and as little natur in 'em as the humans lirve. Kennel and hounds for parsieutin' foxes — presurves (not what we call presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green- gages done in sugj r. but presarves for breedin' tame partridges and pheasants to shoot at), H'aviaries, Hive-eries, ll'yevv-veries, Hot Houses, and so on ; fbrNtliey put an H befoi'e every word, do these critters, and then tell us itlnkees we don't speak English./ *' VfvM, then, you have seen an old and a new house of thesj*) V^ i folk.^ — you I 60 alike, tlir y(!t you'd 5^ fatlier. \ " Now it but what lit crust nol)ilif ca is an lad bh;. There mine, but it' For 1 opine and condesc dren are the makes 'em most hcautij their dij^niti speaks for it " 1 won't I try life ; bee there, that's can't hell) '' come, one to late, and the a day and a than the rae '' 80 lets r call 'em, cai either an okl bad warmed formal, new things, about " Well, r down to dra Why, cuss miles round, the rest is n( "Now, fo Why, one o nothin' new jist a leetle it, 'cause I ne counti-y nob whole of th( one or two bein' old ma and took th ^ SAM SI.ICK IX KNGLAM). 133 folk.H — you luivo seen all. Fcaliirs diircr a little, Imt i'lxrn of all is 60 alikf. tliut fli(ui;j;h p'nipH you wotildu't iiu.>tak(r out; for another, yet you'd .ay tlwy was all of oiuj family. Tlie kiug i.-j their fatlKT. \" Now it may seem kinder odank Governor's machine, and the Yankee woman's machine, and the flyii:' machine, and all soils of machines, and galleries, and tunnels, and mesmer'.zers, and theatres, and flower-shows, and cattle-shows, and beast-shows, and every kind of shew ; and what's better nor all, beautiful got-up women, and men turned out in fust chop stvle, too. *' I don't mean to say country women ain't handsum here, 'cause they be. There is no sun here ; and how in natur' can it be other- ways than that they have good complexions ? But it tante safe ♦o be eaged with ih(.'in in a house out o' town. Fust thing you both do, ^*s to get spooney, makin' eyes and company -faces at each other, and then think of matin', like a pair of doves, and that won't an- swer for the like of you and me. \l'he fact is, Squire, if you want to see women, you niusn't go to a house in the country, nor to mere good compawy in town for it, tho' there be first cliop articles in both ; but you must go among the big bugs, the top-lofty nobility, •u London ; for since the days of old marm Eve, down to this in- stant present time, I don't think there ever was or ever will be such splendiferous galls as is there./ Lord, the fust time 1 seed 'em it put me in mind of what had happened to me at New Brunswick once. Governor of Maine sent me over to their Governor's, official- id I know you. You know jny speed, and I know your bottom, don*i; tlirow back in the breetchin' for nothin' that way. " Well, as I was a sayin', I want you to ?ee these great men, as they call 'em. Let's weigh 'em, and measure 'em, and handle 'era, and then price 'em, and see what their market valy is. Don't con- sider 'em as Tories, or Whigs, or Radicals ; we hante got nothin' to do with none o' them ; but consider 'em as statesmen. It's pot-luck with 'em all ; take your %'k as the pot biles up, jab it in, and fetch a feller up, see whether ne is beef, pork, or mutton ; partridge, rab- bit, or lobster ; what his name, grain, and flavor is, and how you like him. Treat 'em indifferent, and treat 'em independent. " I don't care a chaw o' tobacky for the whole on 'em ; and none on 'em care a pinch o' snuff for you or any Hortentort of a colonist that ever was or ever will be. Lord love you ! if } ou was to write j like Scott, and map the human mind like Jiacon, would it advance I you a bit in prefei'ment ? Not it. They have done enough for the colonists, they have turned 'em uj)side down, and given 'em respon- sible government? What more do the rascal^ want? Do they ask to be made equal to us ? No, look at their social system, and their political system, and tell 'cm your opinion like a man. You have heard enough of their opinions of colonies, and suffered enough fiom their erroneous ones too. You have had Durham reports, and commissioners* reports, and parliament rei)orts till you stomach refuses any more on 'em. And wliat are they ? a bundle of mis- takes and misconceptions, from beginnin* to eend. They have travel- led by stumblin', and have measured everything by the length of their knee, as they fell on the ground, as a milliner measures lace, by the bendin" down of the fbrehnger — cuss 'em ! Turn the tables on 'em. Report on them, measure t/iem, but take care to keep your feet though, don't be caught trippin', don't make no mistakes. •' Then we'll go to the Lord's House — 1 don't mean to a* meetin* house, tiiough we nuist go there too, and hear IMcNeiland Chalmers, and them sort o' cattle ; but I mean the house where the nobles meet, pick out the big bugs, ami see what sort o' stuff they are made of. Let's take minisier with us — he is a great judge of these things. I should like you to hear his o[)inion ; he knows ever) thin' a' most, though the ways of the world bother him a little sometuues ; but for valyin' a man, or stating principles, oi- talkin' politics, there ain't no man equal to him hardly, lie is a book, that's a fact ; it's iiU there whu/you want; all )ou've got to do is to cut the leaves.. SAX SLICK IN EN'GLAND. 151 Name the word in the index, he'll turn to the page, and give you day, date, and fact for it. There is no mistake in him. " That cussed provokin' visit of yours to Scotland will shove them things into tlie next book, I'm afeered. But it don't signify nothin' ; you can't cram all into one, and we liante only broke the crust yet, and p'rhaps it's as well to look afore you leap too, or you might make as big a fool of yourself as some of the Britishers have u Tritin' about us and the provinces. Oh yes, it's a great advantagi* havin' minister with you. He'll fell the big stiff trees for you ; and I'm the boy for the saplin's, I've got the eye and the stroke for them. They spring so confoundedly under the axe, does second growth and undt-kvood, it's dangerous work, but I've got the sleight o' hand for that, and we'll make a clean field of it. " 'J'hen come and survey ; take your compass and chain to the ground, and measure and lay that off — branch and bnrk the sp?rs tor sntUiin' off the ground ; cord up the fire-wood, tie up the hooi)- poles, and then burn off the trash and rubbish. Do it worknumlike. Take your time to it, as if you was workin' by the day. Don't hurry, like job-work; don't slobber it over, and leave half burnt t . and logs strewed about the surface, but make smack smoot' . • rx-. Do that. Squire, do it well, and that Is, only half as good i- yuu can, if you choose, and then — " "• And then," said I, " I make no doubt you will have great pie. Bure ' in throwin' Hie Lavender ugain^ " CHAPTER XXV. "AIMING HIGH!" ** What do you intend to do, Squire, with your two youngest boys ?" said Mr. Slick to me to-day, as we were walking in the Park. " I design tliem, I said, " for professions. One 1 sliall educate for a lawyer, and the other for a clergyman." " Where .>" " h\ Nova Scotia." " Exactly," says he. *' It shows your sense ; it's the very [jlace for 'om. It's a fine field for a young man ; I don't know no better one .)Owhere in the whole uuivarsal world. Wiien 1 was a boy karnin' to shoot, sais father to me, one day, ' Sam,' sais he, * I'll give you a lesson in gunuiu' that's worth knowin'. 'Kiiim high" my boy; your gun naterally settles down a little takiu' sight, caus5"^our aric gets tired, and wabbles, and the ball settles a little while it's travel- AT ■ r 1^ J 152 THE ATTAOHB ; OR, lin', accordin' to a law of natur, called Franklin's law ; and I ob- Barve you 'ays hit below the mark. Now, make allowances for these things in gunnin', and " aim high," for your life, always. And, Sam,' sais he, 'I've seed a great deal of the world, all mWifari/ men uo. I was to ^" inker's Hill du.Mn' the engagement, and 1 saw Washington th ay he was made President, and in course must know more no r»st men of my age ; and I'll give you another bit of advice, "-4t high" in life, and if you don't hit the bull's eye, you'll hit the " first circles," and that au)'t a bad shot nother.' " ' Father,' says I, ' I guess I'- e seed more of the world than you have, arter all.' " ' How so, Sam ?' sais he. " ' Why,* sais I, ' father, you've only been to Bunker's Hill, and that's nothin' ; no part of it ain't too steep to plough j it's only a sizeable hillock, arter all. But I've been to the Notch on the White Mountain, so high up, that the snow don't melt there, and seed five States all to once, and half way over to England, and then I've seed Jim Crow dance. So there, now ?' He jist up with the tlat of his hand, and gave me a wipe with it on t'le side of my face, that knocked me over ; and as I fell, he lent me a kick on my musn't- mention-it, that sent me a rod or so afore 1 took ground on all fours. " * Take that, you young scoundrel !' said he, ' and larn to speak respectful next time to an old man, a mihtart/ man, and your father, too.' " It hurt me properly, you may depend. ' Why,' sais I, as I picked myself up, 'didn't you tell me to "aim high," father ? So I thought I'd do it, und beat your brag, that's all.' " Truth is. Squire, I never could let a joke pass all my life, with- out bavin' a lark with it. 1 was fond of one, ever since I was knee high to a goose, or could recollect anythiu' amost ; 1 have got into a horrid sight of scrapes by 'em, that's a fact. I never Ibrgot that lesson, though — it was kicked into me; and lessons that are lurnt on the right eend, ain't never forgot amost. I have ' aimed high ' ever since, and see where I be now. Here I am an Attache, made out of a wooden clock pedlar. Tell you what, I shall be * embassador ' yet, made out of nothin' but an 'Attache;' and I'll be President of our great Republic, and almighty nation in the eend, made out of an embassador, see if 1 don't. That comes of ' aimin' high* What do you call that water near your coach-house ?" " A pond." " Is there any brook runnin' in, or any stream runnin' out ?" « No." " Well, that's the difference between a lake and a pond. Now, set that down for a traveller's fact. Now, where do you go to fish?" ■ SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND 153 " To the lakes, of course ; there are no fisl in the poiuls." " Exactly," said Mr. Slick ; " that is what I w aiil to bring you to ; there is no lish in a pond, there is notliin' biiL iVogs. Nova Scotia is only a pond, and so is New Brunswick, and .-mcIi outlund- ish, out o' the way, little crampt up, stagnant ])lace.s. There is uc * big fish' there, nor never can be ; there ain't no food for 'em. A colony frog ! ! Heavens and airth, what an odd ti.'^h that is ! A colony pollywog ! do, for gracious sake, catch one, [lut him into a glass bottle full of spirits, and send him to the Museum as a curiosity in natur. So you are a goin' to make your two nice pntty little smart boys a pair of colony frogs, eh ? Oh ! do, by all means. " You'll have great comfort in 'em, Squire. JMonstrous comfort. It will do your old heart good to go down to the edge of the pond on the fust of May, or thereabouts, accordin' to the season, jist at sun down, and hear 'em sing. You'll .-ee the little fellers swell out their cheeks, and ro.",r away like young Mickin' thunders. For the frogs ber.l all natur there for noise ; they have no notion of it here at all. I've seed Englishmen that couldn't sleep all night, for the everlastin' noise these critters made. Their frogs have somethip else to do hei'e besides sirigin'. Ain't it a splendid prospect that, havin' these young frogs settled all round you in the same mud-hole, all gathered in a nice little musical family party ? \A11 smart fur this, till some fine day we Yankee storks will come down and gol> ble them all up, and make clear work of it./ V' No, Squire, take my advice now, for once ; jist go to your colo- ny minister when he is alone. Don't set down, but stand up as if you was in airnest, and didn't come lo gossip, and tell him, ' Turn these ponds into a lake,' sais you, ' my lord minister, give them an inlet and an outlet. Let them be kept pure, and sweet, and whole- some, by a stream runnin' through. Fish will live there then, if you put them in, and they will breed there, and keep up the stock. At present they die ; it ain't big enough ; there ain't roora.'/If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks you to put it into wrilin', do you jist walk over to his table, take up his lignum vita; ruler into your fist, put your back to the dooi', and say, ' By the 'tarnal em- pire, you shall hear me ; you don't go out of this, till 1 give you the butt eend of my mind, I can tell } ou. I am an old bull frog now ; the Nova Scotia pond is big enougli Ibr me ; I'll get drowned if I get into a bigger one, for 1 hante gut no lins, nothin' but legs and arras to swim with, and deep water wouldn't suit me, I ain't lit for it, and I must live and die there — that's my fate as sure as rates.' If he gets tired, and goes to get up or to move, do you shake il.e big ruler at him, as fierce as a painter, and say, ' Don't you silr for your life ; 1 don't want to lay nothin' on your head, I only want to put somethin' in it. I am a father, and have got youngsters. I am a nati*;^, and have got countrymen. Enlarge our sphere, give ift i» I' 1 ^ [ I ( \ 154 ch} THK ATTACHE; OR, ' Let me out,' he'll sa ance in the world.' ' Let me out,' he'll say, * this minute. Sir, v.r I'll put } ou in charge of a policeman.' ' Let you out, is it ?' sais you. 'Oil I yon feel bcii.' pent up, do you? I am glad of it. The tables are turned now — ll/it'.s wiiat we complain of. You've stood at the door, and kept us in ; now I'll keep you in awhile. I want to talk to you — that's more than you ever did to us. How do you like bein' :-hut in ? ].' > it feci good ? Does it make your dander rise ?' ' Lcl ine out,' '11 say agin, ' this moment. Sir ; l)*w dare you?' 'Oh! you are in a hurry, are you?' sais you. 'You've kept me in all my life ; don't be oneasy if I keep you in five min- utes.' " ' Well, what do you want, then ?' he'll say, kinder peevish ; ' what do you want ?' ' I don't want nothin' for myself,' sais you. * I've got ail I can get in that pond ; and I got that from the Whigs, fellers I've been abusin' all my life ; and l'n» glad tp make amends by acknowledging tliis good turn they did me ; foiM am a Tory, and no mistak'^ I don't want nothin' ; but I want to be an Eiiglishman. I dun't want to be an English subject; do you under- stand that now ?/ If you don't, this is the meanin', that there is no fun in bein' a fSg, if you are never to have a fag yourself. Give us all fair play. Don't move now,' sais yuu, ' for I'm gettin' warm ; I'm gettin' spotty on the back, my bristles is up, and 1 might hurt you with this ruler ; it's a tender pint this, for I've rubbed the skin off of a ifore place ; but I'll tell you a gospel truth, and mind what I tell you, for nobody^else has sense enough, and if they had, they rhante courage enougl\. If you don't nv):c EmjUshmen of us, ike I force of circumstances loill make Yankees of us, as sure as you i' are boni^^He'll stare at that. He is a clever man, and ain't wantin' ni gumptian. He is no fool, that's a fact. ' Is it no com- pliment to you and your institutions, this ?' sais you. ' Don ^ it make you feel proud that even independence won't tempt us to dis- solve the connexion ? Ain't it a noble proof of your good qualitic' that, instead of agitatin* for Repeal of the Union, we want a close union? But have we no pride, too? We would be onworthy of the name of Englishmen, if we hadn't it, and we won't stand beg- gin' for ever, I tell you. Here's our hands, give us yourn ; let's be all Englislnnen together. Give us a chance, and if us, young Eng- lish buys, don't astoni- h you old English, my name ain't Tom Poker, that's ail.' ' Sit down,' hti'll say, ' JMr. Poher ; ' tliere is a great deal in that ; sit down ; I am interested.' " The instant he sais tliat, take yoin* rulor, lay it down on the table, pick up your hat, make a scrape ^vith your hind leg, and say, * I regret I have detahied you so long. Sir. I am most peskily afraid my warmth has kinder betrayed me into rudeness. I railly bej pardon. I uo. upon my sot;], I f'-.c! I have smashed down all' decency — J uin iiorrid athanud cl' ^.'vselt.' Weil, he won't sav you ■• ike you iiin't com- . it dis- ilitie' close ly of b«ig- 'sbe Eng- oker, great 11 the say, 3skily railly n all' m- vou SAM SLTCK IN ENGLAND. 165 ■ hante rode the high hoss, and d(»ne the unhandsura thing, because it wouldn't bo true if he did ; but he'll say, ' Pray be seated. I can make allow ancet-, Sir, even for intemperate zeal. And this is a very important subject, very indeed. There is a monstrous deal in •what you say, though you have, 1 must say, ratlier a peculiar, an unusual way of putlin' it.' Don't } ou stay another minit, though, nor say another word, for your life ; but bow, beg {)ardon, hold in your breath, that your face may look red, as if }ou was blushin', and back out, starn fust. Whenever you make an impression on a man, stop ; your reasonin' and details may ruin you. Like a feller wlio sais a good thing, he'd better shove off, and leave every one larlin' at Jiis wit, than stop and tire them out, till they say what a great screw augur that is. Well, if you find ho opens the colonies, and patronizes the smart folks, leave your sons there if you like, and let 'em work up, and work out of it, if they are fit, and time and opportunity otfers. But one thing is sartin — the very ^penin' of the door will open their minds, as a matter of course. \If he don't do it, and I can tell you before hand he won't — for they actilly hunte got time here to think of these thingST^send your boys here into the great world. Sais you to the young Lawyer, ' Bob,' sais you, '' ' aim high." If you don't get to be Lord Chan- cellor, I shall never die in peace. I've set my heart on it. It's within your reach, if you are good for anything. Let me see the great seal — let me handle it belbre I die — do, that's a dear ; if not, go back to your Colony pond, and sing with your j)rovincial frogs, and I hope to Heaven the fust long-legged bittern that comes there will make a supper of you.' " Then sais you to the young parson, ' Arthur,' sais you, ' Natur jist made you for a ehirgyman. Now, do you jist make yourself " Ai'chbishop of Canterbury.'' My death-bed scene will be an aw- ful one, ii 1 don't see you '' the Primate ;" lor my atlections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed on it. 1 shall be willin' to die then, I shall depart in peace, and leave this world happ}-. And, Arthur,' sais you, ' they talk and brag here till one is sick of the soinid a'most about " Addison's death-bed." Good people refer to it as an example, a ithors as a theatrical scene, and hypocrites as a granu illustration for them to turn up the AvhiLes of their cold caatin' eyes at. Ldi'd love you, my son,' sais }ou, ' let them brag ot it ; but what would it be to min ; ; you congratulatin' me on goin' to a bet- ter world, and me congratulatin' you on bein' " Archbishop." Then,' says you, in a starn voice like a boatsan's trumpet — for if you want things to be remembered, give 'em effect — '• ^^ Aim hiyh,'" Sir,' sais you. Then, \l\nf my old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that will lift him clean over the table, and say, 'I'hat's the way to rise in the world, you young sucking parson, you. "^«Va %A," Sir.' I 156 THE ATTACHE; OR, f :l " Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they live. The hit does tliat ; for a kick is a very striking thing, tliat's a fact. There has been no good scholars since birch rods went out o' school^ and sentiment went in." " But you know," I said, '• Mr. Slick, that tho.se high prizes in the lottery of life, can, in the nature of things, be drawn but by a few people, and how many blanks are there to one prize in this woil.l !" " Well, what's to prevent your boys gcttin' those prizes, if colo- nists was made Christi;' is of, instead of outlawed, exiled, trans- ported, onsarcumsised heathen Indgean niggers, as they be ? Ji people don't put into a lottery, how the devil can they get prizes ? Will you tell me that? Look at the critt'^rs lusrc — look at the pub- licans, tailors, barbei's, and porters' sons, how they've rose here, ' in this big lake,* to be chancellors, and archbishops ; how did they get them? They ^ aimed high;' and besides all that, like father's story of the gun, by 'aiming high,' though they may miss the mark, they will be sure to hit the upper circles. Oh, Sijuirc, there is nothing like ^aiming high' in this world." " I quite agree with you, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell. " I ne /er heard you speak so sensibly before. Nothing can be better for young men than ^Aiming high.' Though they may not attain to the highest honors, they n\ay, as you say, reach to a most respecta- ble station. But surely, Squire, you will never so far forget the respect that is due to so high an oificer as a Secretary of State, or, indeed, so far forget yourself as to adopt a course which, from its eccentricity, violence, and impropriety, must leave the im[)ression that your intellects are disordered. Surely you will never be tempt- ed to make the experiment ?" " I should think not, indeed," I said. " I have no desire to be- come an inmate of a lunatic asylum." " Good," said he ; " 1 am satisfied. I quite ag»-ee with Sam, though. Indeed, 1 go further. 1 do not think he lias advised you to recommend your boys to ' aim high enough.' " " Creation !" said Mr. Slick, '' how much higher do you want provincial frogs to go, than to be ' Chancellor ' and ' Priniate ?' " " I'll tell you, Sam; I'd advise them to 'aim higher' than earthly honors. I would advise them to do their duty, in any station of life in vhich it shall please Providence to place them : and instead of striving after unattainable objects here, to be unceasing in their endeavors to obtain that which, on certain <'.oaditions, is promised to all hereafter. In their worldly pursuits, as men, ii is right tor them to 'ai'w high;' but as Clhristians, it is also'their duty t') '■aim higher.' " 1 c ^f ■ BAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 167 i to be- •ir CHArTER XXVI A S W I - R E'E . Mr. Slick visited me late last nij^lit, dressed as if he had been at a party, but very cros><, and, as usual wlu-n in that frame of mind, he vented his ill-humor on the Kuj^lish. " Where have you been to-ni,!^ht, Mr. Sliek ?" " Jist where th(j Knglish bosses will be," he replied, " when Old Clay comes Imre to this country — no whore. 1 have been on a stair-case, that's whore I have been ; and a pretty place to see com- pany in, ain't it ? I have been janraed to death in an entry, and what's wus than all, 1 have <^iven one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore another one's frock oif wiMi my buttons, and near about cut a third one's h^g in two with n^v- ]iat. Pretty well for one night's work, ain't it ? and for me, too, that's so fond of the dear little critters, I wouldn't hurt a hair of their head, if I could help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o' work ! " What the plague do p.e<)ple nu-an here by askin' a mob to their house, aiid fnvitin twice as many as can get into it? If they think it*3 complimental, they are iiifarnally riiistaken, that's all : it's an insult, and nothin' else, makin' a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth ! I am wringing wet ! I'm ready to faint ! Where's the key of your cellaret ? I w ant some brandy and water. I'm dead ; bury me quick, for I won't be nice directly. Oh, dear! how that lean gall hurt me ! How horrid sharp her bones are ! " I wish to goodness .you'd go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, jist oi\cet — a grand let otf, one that's upper crust and rael jam. It's worth seein' oncet jist as a show, 1 tell you, for you have no more notion of it than a child. All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into a room, wouldn't make one swoi-ree. I have been to three to-night, and all on 'em was mobs — regular mobs. The English are horrid fond of mobs, and I'Wolider at it too ; for of all the cowaMty" miserable, scarry mobs, that ever was Seen in this blessed world, th^ English is the wust. Two dragoons will clear a whole street as quick as wink, any time. The instant they see 'em, they jist run like a Hock of sheep afore a couple of bull dogs, and elope oflP properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish they'd send for a ii'. ir -'//-•-^-'' I,.. .'*//> 153 THE ATTACHE ; OR, ' ; /. ?/ (Irngoon, j\ll booted, and spnrnd, and mounfod, and let liim gallop into a swoi-rce, and cliar^^o tlio. mob there. ll(;'d clear 'em out, J know, double quick : he'd chase, one ([uarter of'em down stairs head over heels, and auotlu.'r (juarler womM .iimj|) out o' the winders, luid break their contbunded necks to save liieir lives, and then the halt' that's left, would be iist about halt' too nuuiv tor eomibrt. *' My lirst party, to-ni;^ht, was a conv«'rsation one; ; tliat is for thorn ihixi could talk ; as ibr me, 1 couUhi't talk a bit, and all I could think was, ' how int'arnid hot it is! I wish I could ji,et in!' or, 'oh, dear! if 1 i-ould (>nly net out!' Jt was a scienlilic ])arty, a mob o' men. AVi'll, everybody eXi)OCted somebody would be scjuashcd to death, and so ladies went, lor they always ;^o to executions. They've got a kinder naiei'al taste lor the horrors, have women. They like to see peo[)le handed, or trod to death, when they can get a chance. It was a conversation warn't it ? that's all. 1 couldn't understand a word I heard. Trap shale Cireywachy ; a petritied snail, the most important discovery of modein tiujes. IJank governor's machine weighs sovereigns, light ones goes to the right, and h<>avy ones tc the left. "' Stop,' says I, 'if you mean the sovereign people hero, there are none on 'em light. Right and left is both monstrous heavy; all over weight, every one on 'em. I'm squeeze'd to death.' ** ' Very good, JMr. Slick. Let me introduce you to ," they are wliipt olf in the eui-rent, and 1 don't see 'em again no more. ' A beautiful show of flowers, JNIadam, at the garden : they are all in full blovv now. The rhododendron had a tooth pulled wlicn she was asleep.' ' Please to let me pass, Sir.' ' With all my heart, Miss, if 1 could ; but I can't move ; if 1 could I would down on the carpet, and you should walk over me. Take care of your feet, Miss, I am olf of mine. Lord bless me ! what's this ? Why, as I am a livin' sinner, it's half her frock hitched on to my coat button. Now, I know what that scream meant.' "' How do you do, Mr. Slick? When did you come?' ' Wliy, I came — ' he is turned round, and shoved out o' hearin'. ' Xanthian marbles at the British Museum are quite .wonderful ; got into his throat, the doctor turned him u[)side down, stood him on his head, and out it came — his own tunnel was too small.' ' Oh, Sir, you are cutlin' me.' 'Me, Miss! Where had 1 the pleasure of seein' you before ; I never cut a lady in my life. Couldn't do so rude a thing, llavn't the honor to recollect you.' ' Oh, Sir, take it away, it cuts nie.' Poor thing, she is distracted, I don't wonder she's drove crazy, though I think she must have been made to come here at all. ' Your hat. Sir. ' Oh, that cussed French hat is it ? W^ell, the rim is at Btiii' and as sharp as a cleaver, that's a fact, I don't wonder it cut* you.' ' Eddis's pictur — capital painting, fell out of the barge, anc was drowned.' ' Having been beat on the shillin' duty ; they wiU mmmmm ''f.J SAM' SLICK IN ENGLAND. 159 ^ attack him on tlu iburjienco, nnd thimble rifrg him out of that. 'They say Sii^rtleii is in town, iiuii*^ in a hiid li;^iit, at the Temphj ('Jimrch. — ' AVlio is thai?' ' Lady Kohiis; jiair<(l otrior the Session; liiodic o|)erat('d.' — 'Lady Fi'aijcis ; got th» J^ilc, (Juards; ihero \vill b(! u ilivi-ion lo-iii«.;ht.' — 'Thai's Sam Slick ; I'll introdiicc you; made a capital si)eccli in the Ilou.-e of Lords, in answer to lirou^^ham —Lobelia — voted for the bill — The Duchess is ^erv tbud of — Jrssh Arms — ' " Oh ! now I'm in the enliy. How tii( d 1 :uu ! It f<'rl,< :.liockin cold here, too, arier comiu' out o' that liot room. (Jiu;.-o I'll go to the grand musical }>art}. Com •, this will do; this is Christian-like, there is room here; bul the singin' is in the nex room, 1 will go and hear them, Ch ! here they are agin; it's a ])ro[)er mob this. Cuss these English, they can't live out of mobs. Triuee Albert is tlierc in that room; 1 must go and see him. lUi is popular; he is a renderin' of himself very agreeable to the Knglish, is I'rinee : he mixes with them as mueli as he can : and shews his sense in that. Church steei)les are very pretty things : that one to Antwerp is splendiriferous ; it's everlastin' liigh, h most breaks your nttck layin' back your head to look ut it; bend backward like a hooj), and ttare at it once with all your eyes, and you can't h»ok up agin, you are Batislied. It tante no use tor a I'rinee to carry a head so high as that, Albert knows this ; he don't want to be calird the highest steeple, cause all the world knows he is about the top lofiicct; but Y vantd to descend to tlie world we live in. " AVitli a Queen all men love, and a Prince all men like, royalty has a root in the heart .here. Pity, too, for the Kngli:?h don't desarvc to have a Queen ; and such a Queen as they have got, too, hang me if they do. They ain't men, they hante the feelin's or pritle o' men in> 'em ; they ain't what they used to be, the nasty, dirty, mean- spirited, sneakin' skunks, for if they had a heart as big as a pea — and that ain't any great size, nother — cuss 'em, when any feller pinted a finger at her to hurt her, or even frighten her, they'd string him right up on the spot, to the lamp-post. Lynch him hke a dog that steals sheep right olf the reel, and save mad-doriors, skary iudges, and Chartist papers all the trouble of lindin' excu^e^. And, if that didn't do, Chinese like, they'd take the whole crowd present and sarve them out. They'd be sure to catch the right one ihen, I wouldn't shed blood, because that's horrid; it shocks ail Chri.stian peojde, philosophisin' legislators, sentimental ladies, and spooney gentlemen, it's horrid barbarous that, is shcddin" blood ; 1 wouldn't do that, I'd jist hang him. A strong cord tied round his neck would keep that precious mixiur, traitor's blood, all in as close as if his mouth was corked, wired, and white-leaded, hke a champagne bottle. *' Oh, dear ! these are the fellers that come out a travellin' among 160 THK ATTACH^:, OR, US. and snyin' (lie difrcrorn'i' atwocn you and us is * tin* absence of loyalty.' I've lieaid tell a <;reat deal of tliat loyalty, hut I've seen y ' )reciou.s little of it, -ince I've hecii here, that's a fact. I've always told you these folks ain't what they used to he, and I f-ee more and more! on 'em evei-y day. Yes, tlu' ]Mif];li>li are like their ho-scs, tliey an; ,-o line bred, there is nothiu' lelt ot' 'em now hut the hide, hi^ r, am Isl iocs. " So, I'rinei! Albert is there in that n )oni I must get in there • an d see him, ibr 1 have never sot eyes ou him since l'v(! been here, 80 here noes. Onder, below there, look out for vour corns, hawl your ribs, feet my in, like tui'tles, ibr I am a com m Tak o Id coons, for my "lb( c care o your )ws ar e crooked. AVho wants to grow ? I'll squeeze you out as a rolliu'-pin does dough, and make you ten inches taller. I'll msike good ligures of you, my I'at boys en mciies lauei and galls, I know. Look out for sealdin's there, lien; I am : it's nie, Sam Slick, make way, or I'll walk right over you, and crouch you like lobsters. 'Cheap talkin', or rather thinkin', sais J; 'lor in course I couldn't bawl that out in comi)aiiy here ; they don't onderstand fim, and would think it rude, and ongenteel. \ 1 have to I be shockin' cautious Avhat I say here, for fear 1 might lower our ! great nation in the eyes of foreigners. I have to look big and talk I big the whol(! blessed time, and I am tired of it. /It ain't nateral ) ! to me ; and, besides braggin' and re[)udiatin' at tlie same time, is most as bad as cantin' and swearin'. It kinder chokes me. I thought it all though, and said it all to myself. 'And,' sais I, 'take your time, Sam ; you can't do it, no how, you can fix it. You nuist wait your time, like other folks. Your legs is tied, and your arms is tied down by the crowd, and you can't move an inch beyond your nose. The only way is, watch your chance, wait till you can get your hands up, then turn the fust two persons that's next to you right round, and slip between them like a turnstile in the park, and work your passage that way. Which is the Prince? That's him with the hair carefully divided, him with the moustaches. I've seed him ; a plaguy handsum man he is, too. Let me out now. I'm stifled, I'm choked. My jaws stick together, I can't open 'em no more ; and my wind won't hold out another minute.' " 1 have it now, I've got an idea. See if I don't put the leake into 'em. Won't I do them, that's all ? Clear the way there, the Prince is a comin', and so is the Duke. And a way is opimed : waves o' the sea roll back at these words, and I walks right out, as large as life and the fust Egyptian that Ibllers is drowned, for the water has closed over him. Sarves him right too, w hat business had he to grab at my life-presarver without leave. I have enough to do to get along by my own wit, without carryin* double. " * Where is the Prince ? Didn't they tay he was a comiu' ? Who was that went out? He don't look like the Prince ; he ain't half so J SAM SLICK IN ENOT-ANI). 161 your get I, as the ness handflun, that feller, hj look-i like a Yankee.' * Why, tliat was Sam SHek.' ' Capital, that ! What a droll teller he is : he is alwi\ys so rendy ! lie desarves credit for that trick.' ( Jne-s I do ; htit h-t old CoMiiei'ticut alone : u-i Sliekville boys nlway.s lind a way to dodgo in or out, tinbargo or no embargo, blockade or no blockade, we larut that last war. "Here I am in the street agin ; the air feeds hand>iun. I have another invitation to-night, shall I go? Guess I will. All the world is at these two last places, I reckin there will be breathin' room at the next ; and 1 want an ice cream to cool my co|)f er?, shockin' bad. — Creation! It is wus than ever; this party beats t'other ones all holler. They ain't no touch te it. I'll Jist go and make a scrape to old untde and aunty, and then cut stick ; for I hante strength to swiggle my way through another mob. "'You had better g(!t in fust, though, hadn't yt-i, Sam for her^' you are agin wrackeil, by gosh, drove right slap ashore atweon the. ■ two fat wonien, and fairly wet chop bono, and fine fai leg, with no gum on no part of it. Shi-'s a sneezer, that ; but she'll be knocked down for twenty or thirty pound, because she looks as if she was used up. " I intended to a had that mare, for I'd a made her worth twelve hundred dollars. It was a dreadful pity, I let go, that time, for I actilly forgot where I was. I'll know better next bitch, for boughten wit is the best in a general way. Yes, I'm peskily sorry about that mare. Well, swappin' I've studied, but I doubt if it's as much the fashion here as with us ; and besides, swappin' where you don't know the country and its tricks (for every country has its own tricks, different from others), is dangersome too. I've seen swaps where botii sides got took in. Did ever I tell you the story of the * Elder and the Krave-di":"er ?' " !i m U ! ^1 : I 1 166 THE ATTACH^; OR, "Never," I replied ; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell it to nie." "Well," paid he, "I must have a glass of mint julep fust, to vash down that (,'re disappointment about liie mare. It was a dread- ful go, that. I jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease. But it's an exeitin' thing, is o ottin' race, too. AVhen you mount, hear the M'ord, ' Start !' .and lu^nt out ' G lang!' nnd give the pass word. ' Good heavens ! wh'\t a yell he perpetrated again. I put both hands to my ears, to c.^- lude the reverberations of it from the walls. " Don't be skecred, Squire ; don't be skeered. "We are alone now ; there is no mare to lose. Ain't it pretty? It makes me feel all danderv and on wires like." " But the grave-digger?" said I. " Well, ' says he, " the year afore I knowed you, I was a-goin' in the fall, down to Clare, about sixty miles below Annapolis, to collect some debts due to me there from the French. And as I was a-jog- gin' on along the load, who should I overtake but Elder Stephen Grab, of Beechmeadows, a mounted on a considerable of a clever- lookin* black marc. The Elder was a pious man ; at least he looked like one, and spoke like one, too. His face was as long as the moral law, and p'rha])s an inch longer, and as smooth as a hone ; and hia voice was so soft and sweet, and his tongue moved so ily on its hinges, you'd a thought }'ou might a trusted him with ontold gold. if you didn't care whether you ever got it agin or no. He had a bran new hat on, with a brim that was none of the smallest, to keep the sun from makin' his inner man wink, and his go-to-meetin' clothes on, and a pair of silver mounted spurs, and a beautifuJ white cravat, tied behind, so as to have no bows to it, and look meek. If there was a good man on airth, you'd a said it was him And he seemed to feel it, and know it too, for there was a kind ol look o' triumph about him, as if he had conquered the Evil One, and was considei'able well satistied with himself. " ' H'are you,' sais 1, ' Elder, to-day ? Which way are you from ?' " ' From the General Christian Assembly,' sais he, ' to Goose Creek. "We had " a most rejreshin' time on't." There was a great '' outponrhC of the Spirit" ' " ' Well, that's awful,' sais I, * too. The magistrates ought tc see to that ; it ain't right, when folks assemble that way to wor ship, to be a sellin' of rum, and gin, and brandy, and spirits, is itr' ^ • I don't mean that,* sais he, ' althougli, p'rhap::;, there was too much of that wicked trallic, too. I mean the pi'eachin'. It was very peeowerful ; there was " many sinners saved." ' .„'raa-j.Aira SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 16T Come \ist, to dread- grease, mount, :he pass 1 put rom the :e alone , me feel L-goin in to collect as a-jog- Stephen a clever- he looked the moral ; and hia ily on its told gold, e had a to kcvjp o-meetin' jeautifu) and look was him kind ol x..vil One, are you to Goose as a grea<. ought tc \y to wor nd spirits, L'C was too It was " * I guess there was j)lenty of room for it,' pais I, ' onless that neighborhood has nmch improved gince 1 knowed it last.' •' ' It's a sweet thing,' sais he. ' Have you ever " made profes' don" Mr. Slicii ?' " ' Come,' ?ais I to myself, ' tliis is ciittin' it rather too fat. I must put a stop to this. Tiiis ain't a suhjeet for conversation with such a cheatin', cantin', hyppocritical skunk as tliis is. Yes,' sais I, ' long ago. ]My profession is tliat of a clockmaker, and I make no pretension to nothin' else. But come, let's water our hosses here, and liquor ourselves.' " And we dismounted, and gave 'em a drop to wet their mouths. " ' Now,' sais I, a takin' out of a po(!ket-pistol that I generally travelled with, ' I think I'll take a drop of gi'og ;' and arter helpin' myself, I gives the silver cover of the flask a dip in the Irook (for a clean rinse is better than a dirty wipe, any time), and sais I, 'Will you have a little of the " outpounn' of the Spirit?" What do you say, Elder ?' " ' Thank you,' sais he, ' friend Slick. I never touch liquor — it's agin our rules.' " And he stooped down and filled it with Avater, and took a mouth- ful, and then makin' a face like a frog afore he goes to sing, and swellin' his cheeks out like a Scotch bag[)iper, he spit it all out. Sais he, 'That is so warm, it makes me siciv; and as I ain't otherwise well, from the celestial exhaustion of a protracted meetin', I believe I will take a little drop, as medicine.' " Confound him ! if he'd a said he'd only leave a little drop, it would a been more like the thing ; for he e'en a'most emptied the whole into tlie cup, and drank it off clean, without winkin'. " ' It's a " very rcfres/nn' time" says I, ' ain't it ?' But he didn't make no answer. Sais I, ' That's a likely beast of yourn, Elder,' and I opened her mouth, and took a look at her, and no easy matter nother, I tell you, for she held on like a bear trap, with her jaws. " ' She won't suit yoy,' sais he, with a smilt> ' Mr. Slick.' " ' I guess not,' sais I. " ' But she'll jist suit the French,' sais he. " ' It's lucky she don't speak French, then,' sais I, * or they'd soon find her tongue was too big for her mouth. That critter will never see tive-and-twenly, mid I'm a thinkin' she's thirty year aid, if she is a day.' " ' I was a thinkin' ', said lie. with a sly look out o' the corner of his eye, as if her age warn't no secret to him, ' I was a thinkin' it's time to put her oil", and she'll ji^t suit the French. Tliey hanto much for hosses to do, in a giniral way, but to ride about ; and you won't say nothin' about her age, will you ? it might endamnify a sale.' .X\ 'Hf^si^^.fiiHpf sm 168 TUIJ AiTACHE; OR, i! i I SI i i i ;; t t t i: / ; n n " * Not I,' sais I. ' I skin my own foxes, and let other folks skin their'n. I have enough to do to mind my own business, without in- terferin' with other people's.' *' ' She'll jist sui; the French.' sais he ; ' they don't know nothin' about bosses, or anything else. They are a simple peo[>le, arid al- ways will be, tor their priests keep 'em in ignorance. It' • aii i\,'ful thing to see them kept, in the outer porch of darkness tiiat A\ay, ain't it ?' " ' I guess you'll put a new pane o' glass in their porch,' says I, 'and help some o' them to see betrer; for vlioever gets that mare, will have liis eyes open, sooner nor l>o bargMiu:^. for, I know.' '' Suis he, ' She ain't a bat suit the French,' sais he; 'they are a simple people, and don't know nothin', and if they don't like tne mare, they must blame their priests for not teachin' 'em better. I shall keep within th' strict line of truth, as becomes a Christian man. I scorn to take a man in.' " Well, we chatted away arter this fashion, he a opeirin' of him- jelf and me a walkin' into him ; and we jogged along till we came to Charles Tarrio's to Montagnon, and there Avas the matter of a thousand French people gatherttd there, a chatterin', and laughin', and jawin', and quarrellin', and racin', and wrastlin', and all a givin* tongue, like a pack of village dogs, when an Indgian comes to town. It was a town meetin' day. " AVell, there was a critter there, called, by nickname, ' Goodish Greevoy,' a mounted on a white pony, one o' the scariest little screamers you ever see since you was born. He was a tryin* to get up a race, was Goodish, and banterin' every one that had a boss to run with him. " His face was a fortin' to a painter. His forehead was high and narrer, showin' only a long strip o' tawny -skin, in a line with his nose, the rest bein' covered with hair, as black as ink, and as iley as a seal's nami'. His brows was thick, bushy, and overhangin', 'like young brushwood on a cliff, and onderneath was two black peerin, i SAM SLICK I>f ENGLAND. ICO )lks skin hout in- V nothin' , ari'i al- av> i\,'tul ' says 1, ifu mare, eat hay, F chuckle thro: a, ii iers '.hat's s tongue ; ter aibre, imer in a ginn' her mer ; and her as fat rly shined !e people, they must eep within )rn to take ti' of hira- l we came tatter of a laughin', 11 a givin' s to town. Goodish riest little yin* to get J a hcss to s high and c with hi3 as iley as ngiu', 'like ick peerin, little eyes, that kept a movin' about, keen, good-natured, and roguish, but sot far into his skull, and looked like the eyes of a fox pee[)in' out of his den, when he warn't to home to company hisself. Hi-i nose was high, sharp, and crooked, like the back of a reapin' hook, and gave a plaguy sight of character to his face, whih^ his thinnish lips, that closed on a straight line, curlin' up at one eend, and down at the other, showed, if his dander was raised, he could be a jumpin', tarin', rainpagenous devil, if he chose. The pint of his chin projected and turned up gently, as if it expected, waen Goodish lost his teeth, to rise in the world in rank next to the nose. When good natur' sat on the box, and drove, it Avarn't a bad face ; w^hen Old Nick was Coachman, 1 guess it would be as well to give Master Frenchman the road. " He had a rod cap on his head, his beard hadn't been cut since last sheep shcarin', and he looked as hairy a.s a tarrier ; his shirt collar, which was of yaller llannul, fell on his shoulders loose, and u black handkercljcr was tied round his neck, slack like a sailor's. He wore a round jacket and loose trovvsers of homespun, with no waistcoat, and his trowserd was held up by a gallus of leather on one side, and of old cord on the other. Either Goodish had growed since his clothes was made, or his jacket and ti'owsers warn't on speakin' tarms, for they didn't meet by tliree or four inches, and the shirt showed atween thetn like a yaller miliiia sash round him. His feet was covered with moccasins of ontanned moose hide, and one heel was sot off with an old spur, and looked sly and wicked. He was a sneezer that, and when he flourished his great long withe of a whip stick, that looked like a fishin* rod, over his head, and yelled like all possessed, he was a caution, that's a fact. " A knowin' lookin little boss it was, too, that he was mounted on. Its Jail was cut close off to the stump, which squared up his rump, and made him look awful strong in the hind quarters. His mane was * hogged,' which fulled out the swell and crest of the neck; and his ears being cropped, the critter had a game look about him. There was a proper good onderstandin' between him and his rider : they looked as if they had growed together, and made one critter — half boss, half man, with a touch of the devil. " Goodish was all up on eend by what he drank, and dashed in and out of the crowd arter a fashion, that was quite cautionary, callin' out, ' Here comes '' the grave-digger." Don't be skeered, if any of you get killed, here is the boss that will dig his grave for nothin'. Who'll run a lick of a quarter of a mile, for a pint of rum? Will you run ?' said he, a spunkin' up to the Elder. ' Come, let's run, and whoever wins, shall go the treat.' " The Elder smiled as sweet as sugar-caudy, but backed out ; hi wa.s too old, he said, now to run. 3 ! PI It li. 1 1 170 THE A'lTAUHfi; OR, t( ( Will you svap ho?ses. old broadcloth, then ?' said the otheii • Because if you Avill, h(!re*ts at you.' " Steve took a squint at pony, to see whether that cat would jump or no, but liio cropt cur,-, the stump of a tail, the rakisii look of the horse, didn't jist allogetlier convene to the taste or the sanctilicd hab- iis of the preacher. The word no, hung on his lips, like a wormy apple, jist ready to drop the fust shake ; but before it let go, the great strength, the s])ryne^s, and the oncommon obedience of pony to the bit, seemed to kinder balance the objections; while the sartan luul ontimely eend that hung over his own mare, during tlie corain* Avinter, death by starvation, turned the scale. " ' Well,' said he, slowly, ' if we like each other's beasts, friend, and can agree as to the boot, I don't know as 1 wouldn't trade ; for I don't care lo raise colts, havin' plenty of boss stock on hand, and perhaps you do.' " ' llow old is your boss ?' said the Frenchman. " ' I didn't raise it,* sais Steve. ' Ned Wheelock, I believe, brought her to our parts.' " ' How old do you take her to be ?' " ' Poor critter, she'd tell you herself, if she could,' said he, ' for 8he knows best, but she can't speak ; and I didn't see her, when she "•vas foalded.' " ' How old do you think ?' * ' Age,' sais Steve, ' depends on use, not on years. A boss at ' ^ e, if ill-used, is old ; a boss at eight, if well used, is young.' '* ' Saery footry !' sais Goodish, ' why don't you speak out like a aian ? Lie or no lie, how old is she ?' " ' Well, I don't like to say,' sais Steve. ' I know she is eight for sartain, and it may be she's nine. If I was to say eight, and it turned out nhij, you might be thinkin' hard of me. I didn't raise it. You caii see what condition she is in ; old bosses ain't commonly so fat as that, at least I never see one that was.' " A long banter then growed out of the ' boot money.' The Elder asked £7 10s. Goodish swore he wouldn't give that for him and his boss together ; that if they were both put up to auction that blessed minute, they wouldn't bi'ing it. The Elder hung on to it, as long as there was any chance of the boot, and then fort the ground like a man, only givin' an inch or so at a time, till he drawed up and made a dead stand, on one pound. " Goodish seemed willing to come to tarms, too ; but, like a pru- dent man, re.^olvcil to lake a look at the old marc's mouth, and make some kind of a guess at her age ; but the critter knowed how to keep her own secrets, and it was ever so long afore he forced her jaws open, and when he did, he came plaguv near losin' of a linger, for his curiosity ; and as he hopped and danced about with paiu.Iie let fly 8UcL a sti'ing of oaths, and sacry-cussed the E'der and hii SAM SLICK IN EXGLaND. 171 3 coram \r» I inare, in such an hll-fired passion, that Stove put hoth his hands up to his earj", and said, * Oh, my deai* friend, don't swear ; it's very wicked. I'll take your pony — I'll ask no boot, if you will only promlsfe not to swear. You ^hall have the mare as she stands. I'll give up and swap even; and there shall be no after claps, nor ruein bargains, nor recantin', :ior nolhin', only don't swear.' *' Well, the trade was made, the saddles and bridles was shifted, and both parties mounted their new bosses. *Mr. Slick,' sais Steve, who was afraid he would lose the pony, if he staid any longer, *Mr. Slick,' sais he, ' the least said is the soonest mended — let's be a movin' ; this scene of noise and riot is shockin' to a religious man, ain't it ?' and he let go a groan, as long as the embargo a'most. " Well, he had no sf-mer turned to go, than the French people set up a cheer that made all ring again ; and they sung out ' La Fossy Your!' ' La Fossy Your!' and shouted it agin and agin, ever so loud. " * What's f licit ?' sais Steve. " Well, I didn't know, for I never heerd the word afore ; but it don't do to say you don't know, it lowers you in the eyes of other folks. If you don't know what another man knows, he is shocked at your ignorance. But if he don't know what you do, he can find an excuse in a minute. Never say you don't know. " ' So,' sais I, ' they jabber so everlastin' fast, it ain't no easy matter to say what they mean; but it sounds like " good bye," you'd better turn round and make "em a bow, for they are very polite people, is the French.' " So Steve turns and takes off his hat, and makes them a low bow, and they larfs wus than ever, and calls out again, ' La Fossy Your,' ' La Fossy Your.' He was kinder ryled, was the Elder. His honey had begun to farment, and smell vinegery. ' May be, next Christ- mas,' sais he, ' you won't larf so loud, when you find the mare ia dead. Goodish and the old mare are jist alike, they are all tongue, them critters. I rather think it's me,' sais he, ' has the right to larf, for I've got the best of this bargain, and no mistake. This is as smart a little boss as ever I see. I know where I can put him off to great advantage. I shall make a good day's work of this. It is about as good a boss trade as I ever made.\The French don't know nothin' about bosses ; they are a simple people, their priest? keep 'em in ignorance on purpose, and they don't know nothin'.j^ " He cracked and bragged considerable, and as we progressed we came vo Montagou Bridge. The moment pony sot foot on it, he stopped short, j)ricked up the latter eends of his ears, snorted, squeeled and refused to budge an inch. Tlie Elder got mad. He first coax(id and patted, and soft sawdered him, and then whipt and spurred, and thrashed him like anything. Pony got mud, too, for bosses has temper:' as well as Elders ; so he turned to, and kicked 172 THE ATTACHiS; OR, i; right straight up on eeiul, like Old Scratch, and kept on without sitoppm' till he sent the Llder right slap over his head slanterdieu- larly, on the broad of his back into the river, and he floated down f.hi'o' the bridgf! and scrambled out at t' other side. " Creation I how he looked, lie was so mad, he was ready to bile over; and, as it was, he smoked in the sun, like a tea-kettle. Ilia clothes stuck close down to him, as a cat's fur does to her skin, when she's out in the rain, and every step he took his boots went squish, squash, like an old woman churnin' butter ; atul his wet trowsers chafed with a noise like a wet flappin' sail. lie was a show, and when he got up to his boss, and held on to his mane, and first lifted up one leg and then tlu! other to let the water run out of his boots, I couldn't hold in no longer, but laid back and larfed till I thought on my soul I'd fall off into the river, too. ." ' Elder,' says I, ' I thought when a man jined your sect, he could never ^fiill off ay in, '^ but 1 see you ain't no safer than other folks arter all.' " ' Come,' says he, ' let me be, that's a good soul ; it's bad enough without, being larfed at, that's a fact. I can't account for this caper, no how. It's very strange, too, ain't it ? What on airth got into the boss to make him act so ugly. Can you tell, Mr. Slick ?' " ' Why,' sais I, ' he don't know English yet, that's all. He waiiK^d for them beautiful French oaths that Goodish used. Stop the fust Frenchman you meet, and give him a shillin' to teach you to swear, and he'll go like a lamb.' " I see'd what was the mati r of the boss by his action as soon as we started ; but I warn't a gcjin' for to let on to him about it. I wanted to see the sport. Well, he took his boss by the bridle and led him over the bridge, and he follered kindly, then he mounted, and no boss could go better. Artei > little, we came to another bridge agin, and the same play was acted anew, same coaxin', same threatenin', and same thrashin' ; at last, pony put down his head, and began to shake his tail, a gettin' ready for another bout of kickin' ; when Steve got otf and led him, and did the same to every bridge we come to. ** ' It's no use,' sais I, ' you must larn them oaths, he's used to 'em and misses them shocking. A sailor, a boss, and a nigger ain't no good without you swear at 'em ; it comes kinder nateral to them, and they look for it, fact I assure you. Whips wear out, and so do spurs, but a good sneezer of a cuss hain't no wear out to it ; it's always the same.' " I'll larn him sunthin', sais he, ' when I get him to home, and out o' sight, tliat will do him good, and that he won't forget for one while, I know.' " Soon arter I his, we came to Everett's public-house on the bay, and I galloped up to the dooi-, and went as close as I cleverly could •<»• ( -*»* i HAM huiCK IS ENGLAND. 173 without utorilicu- cd down ly to bile tie. Ilia her skin, oofs went his wet le was a laiie, and in out of rfed till I he could ther folks .d enough his caper, 1 got into ic?' Lie waited p the fust to swear, 13 soon as )out it. I bridle and mounted, another \m', same L his head, T bout of e to every sed to 'em er ain't no 1 to them, and so do to it; it's 10 me, and ;et for one n the bay, erly could •P* on purpose, and then reined 'ip short and sudden, when whap goo« the pony right agin tlic side jf the house, and marly killed himsf^lf. He never stirred for the matter of two or three niinute-i. I actilly did tliink he had. gone ibr it, and Steve went right thro' the winder on to the floor, with a holler noise, like a log o' wood thrown on to the deck of a vessel. ' Engh !' says he, and he cut himself w ith the broken glass quite ridikilous. " ' Why,' sais Everett, 'as 1 am a livin' sinner this is " thf! Grave- digger," he'll kill you, man, as sure a-i you are horn, he is the wick- edest boss that ever was seen in these clearin's here ; and he is as blind as a bat, too. No man in Nova Scotia can manage that boss but Goodish Greevoy, and he'd manage, the devil that feller, for he is man, horse, shark, ami sarjjcnt all in one, that Fnjnchraan. What possessed you to buy such a varmint as that ?' " ' Grave-digger !' said doleful Steve, ' what is that?' " * Why,' sais he, ' they went one day to bury a man, down tc Clare did the French, and when they got to the grave, who should be in it, but the pony. He couldn't see, and as he was a I'eedin' about, he tumbled in head over heels, and they called him always arterwards " the Grave-digger." * " ' Very simple people, them French,' sais I, ' Elder ; they don't know nothin' about ho ses, do they ? Their priests keep them in ignorance on purpose.' " Steve winced and squinched liis face properly ; and said the glass in his hands hurt him. Well, arlcn- wu sot all to rights, we began to jog on towards Digby. Tiie Elder didn't say much, he was as chop-fallen as a wounded moose; at last, says he, 'I'll ship him to St. John, and sell him. I'll put him on board of Captain Ned Leonard's vessel, as soon as I get to Digby.' Well, as I turned my head to answer him, and sot eyes on him agin, it most sot me a haw, haw in' a second time, he did look so like Old Scratch. Oh, Hedges ! how haggardised he was ! His new hat was sma-^hed down like a cap on the crown of his head, his white cravat was bloody, his face all scratched, as if he had bee-i clapper-clawed by a woman, and his hands was bound up»with rags, w,heie the glass cut 'em. The \\hite sartd of the floor of Everett's parlor hiid stuck to his damp clothes, and he looked like an old half -corned miller, tluit was a returnin' to his wife, arter a spree ; a leelle crest-fidlen for what he had got, a leetle mean for the way he looked, and a leetlo skeered lor what he'd catch, W'hen he got to home. The way he sloped warn't no matter. He was a pictur, and a pictur 1 must say, I liked to look at. " And now, Squire, do you take him off, too, ingrave him, and bind him up in your book, and let others look at it, and put ouder it, ' the Elder mid the Grave-digger.^ " W^ell, whej!. we got to town, the tide was high, and the vessel I A I 1. t ',' '■ " i. I'l i ! THE ATTACUK; oU, \Ui ready to cast olF; and St«5ve, knowiii' liow skoer'd the pony was of the w.'itcr, i^ot off to lead liiin, but tlio erittur giK'sidd it wurn't a brid^^c, for lie suu'lt mdl wutcr on both siilc-i of him, and ulicad, too, and biid;jf»; lie wouUhi't. Well, they beat him most lo duaili, but ho beat bai'k a;^in with his hetds, and it was a tlrawd li^^lit. Tiiry tht-n goes to the I'ence, and (i;ets a great .strong pole, and puts it across hi.s hauH, two men at eaiih ccnd of the pole, and sliovcd away, and phoved away, till tln-y progressed a yard or so; when pony scpuitted right down on the pole, throwd over the men, and most broke their legs with his weight. " At last, the captain feteluMl a ropo, and fixes it round his neck, with u slij) knot, I'aslens it to the w indlass, and tin* eddies took him. At last, he (rot into the ripps oil" of Johnston's piiil, and they whed him ri;j;ht round and round like a whip-top. I'oor pony ! he jiiA his niiiteh at last. He .••tni^rgled, and juinpt, and ]>lun;;ed, and fort, like u man, tor dear life. Fust went up hin kaowin' litth^ bend, tiiat had no ears; and he tried to jump up and rear out of it, as he used to did out of a mire hole or honey pot ashore; but there was no bottom there; nothin' for his hind foot to Hprinji: Irom ; so down he went agin ever so deep ; and then he trictl t'other eend, and up went his broad rum[), that had no tail ; but there was nothin' for the fore feet to rest on nother; so he nuidc! a eunnnersct, and as he wcMit ov(.'r, he gave out a great long endwise kick to the full stretch of his hind legs. " I'oor feller! it was the last kick he ever gave in this world ; he sent his heels straight up on eend, like a j)air of kitchen tongs, and the last I see of him wa.s a bi'ight dazzle, as the sun shined on his iron shoes, afore the water closed ovt;r liim lor ever. " 1 railly felt sorry for the {)oor old ' grave-digger,' I did u|M)n my soul, for'' Jiosses and ladies are two things that a body can't help likin'/^ Indeed, a feller that haute no taste that way ain't a man at all, in my oj)inion. Yes, I felt ugly for poor 'grave-digger,' though I didn't feel one single bit so for tliat cant in', cheatin', old Elder. .So when I turns to go, sais I, ' Elder,' sais I, and I jist re[)eated his own words — ' I guess it's your turn to laugh now, lor you have got the best of the bargain, and no mistake. Goodish and the old mare are jLst alike, all tojjgue, ain't they? But these French is a simple peo- ple, so they be ; they don't know nothin', that's a fact. Their priests keep 'em in ignorance a puppus. " ' The next time you tell your experience to the great Christian meethi' to Goose Creek, jist up and tell 'em, from beginnin' to eend, the story of the ' Eider and the Grave-digger.' " CHAPTER XXVIII. LOOKING BACK. In the course of the evening, Mr. IIoj)ewell adverted to his return as a matter of professional duty, and spoke of it in such a feeling and earnest luaaner, as to leave no doubt upon my mind, that we should 176 THE ATTACH^; OB, r* ■■i[ I not be able to detain him long in this country, unless his attention should be kept fully occupied by a constant change of scene. Mr. Slick expressed to me the same fear, and, knowing that I had been talking of going to Scotland, entreated me not to be long absent, for he felt convinced that as soon as he should be left alone, his thoughts and M'ishes would at once revert to America. " I will try to keep him up," said he, " as m ell as I can, but I can't do it alone. If you do go, don't leave us long. Whenever I find him dull, and can't cheer him up no h(»w I can fix it, by talk, or fun, or sight seein' or nothin', I make him vexed, and that excites him, stirs him up with a pot stick, and is of great sarvice to him. I don't mean actilly makin' him wrathy in airnest, but jist rilin of him for his own good, by pokin' a mistake at him. I'll show you, presently, how I do it." As soon as Mr. Hopewell rejoined us, he began to inquire into the probable duration of my visit to Scotland, and expressed a wish to return, as soon as possible, to Slickville. " Come, Minister," said Mr. Slick, tapi)ing him on the shoulder, " as father used to sav, we must ' rijiht about face' now. When we are at home let us think of home, when we are here let us think of this place. Let us look a-head, don't let's look back, for we caa't see nothin' there." " Indeed, Sam," said he, with a sad and melancholy air,Vit would be better for us all if we looked back oftener than we do. From the errors of the past, we miglit rectify our course for the future./ Pros- pective sin is often clothed in very alluring garments ; past sin ap- pears in all its naked deformity. Looking back, therefore — " "Is very well," said Mr. Slick, "in tlie way of •preachin' ; but lookin' back when you can't see nothin', as you are now, is only a hurtin' of your eyes. I never hear that word, ' lookin' back,' that I don't think of that funny story of Lot's wife." " Funny story of Lot's wife. Sir ! Do you call that a funny Btory, Sir?" "I do. Sir." "Y ou r^o, Sir?" " Yes, I do. Sir ; and I defy you or any other man to say it ain't a funny st^ry." " Oh dear, dear," said Mr. Ho}.ewell, "that I should have lived to see the day when you, my son, would dare to speak of a Divine judg- ment as a funny story, and that you should presume so to ad- dress me." " A judgment. Sir ?" " Yes, a judgment, Sh*." " Do you call the story of Lot's wife's a judgment ?" " Yes, I do call the story of Lot's wife a judgment ; a monument of the Divine wrath for the sin of disobedience." ^i iy»! W>fj yh . .iiif i^ i Jb ri if«tfyr.it^>TW f, ».-. is attention ;ne. ; that I had ong absent, t alone, his , but I can't lever I find alk, or fun, xcites him, n. I don't of him for , presently, nquire into ssed a wish e shoulder. When we us think of ive caa't see >it would From the re./ Pros- )ast sin ap- e— " achin'; but V, is only a ack,' that I it a funny s.iy it ain*t ,ve lived to ivine judg- so to ad- ,•♦ SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 177 monument "What! Mrs. Happy Lot? Do you call her a monument of wrath ? Well, well, if that don't beat all, Minister. If you had a Dcen a-tyin' of the night-cap last night I shouldn't a wondered at your talkin' at that pace. But to call that dear little woman, Mrs. Happy Lot, that dancin', laughin', torraentin', little critter, a monu- ment of wrath, beats all to immortal smash." " Why, who are you a talkin' of, Sam ?" " Why, Mrs. Happy Lot, the wife of the Honorable Cranbery Lot, of Umbagog, to be sure. Who did you think I was a talkin' of?" " Well, I thought you was a-talkin' of — of^ — ahem — of subjects too serious to be talked of in that maimer; but I did you wrong, Sam: I did you injustice. Give me your hand, my boy. It's better ibr me to mistake and apologize, than for you to sin and repent. I don't think I ever heard of Mr. Lot, of Umbagog, or of his wife either. Sit down here, and tell me the story, for ' with thee conversing, 1 forget all time.' " " Well, Minister," said Mr. Slick, " I'll tell you the inns and outs of it ; and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot was the darter of Enoch Mosher, the rich miser of Goshen ; as beautiful a little critter, too, as ever stept in shoe-leather. She looked for all the world like one of the Paris fashion prints,.for she was a parfect pictur', that's a fact. Her complexion was made of white and red roses, mixed so beauti- ful, you couldn't tell where the white cended or the red begun, natur' had used the blendin' brush so delicate. Her eyes were screw augers, I tell you; they b<>red right into your Jifurt, and kinder agitated you, and made your breatli cwnc and go, and jour pulse flutter. I never felt nothin' like 'em. When lit up, they sparkled like lamp reflectors: and at other liujes, they wa^ as soi't, and n-.id, and clear as dew-drops that hang on 'he buslies at nun-rise. When she loved, she loved ; and wh>'n >lie iiafed, sht hated about the WK-k- edest you ever see. Her lipjj wi-re like hea/- eherries oi the cartta- tion kind; so plump, and full, and hud, you felt its if you could fall to and eat 'em I'ight up. Her voice \\H4 like j, j^rand piany, all sorts o' power in it ; canary-birds' not«'> at one eend, and tluind< r at t'other, accordin' to the humor she wa- in, 'or she was a'niost a grand bit of stuff was Happy, she'd put an edge on a knrfe a'most. Sli<; was a rael steel. Her Hgur' was as light as i) f{tiry'.->, and her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist ma-.'e for |»uttin' an arm abound in walkin'. She was as tn'tive and sprmgy o& Jier fi- .t .«> a <:iiianiount, and near about as touch-me-not a sort of cu.-tomer too. She actilly did seem as if ..ie was made out of steel springs and chicken-hawk. If old Cran. was to slip off the handle, I think I .should make up to her, for she is 'a salt,' that's a fact, a most a heavenly splice. " Well, the Honorable Qanbery Lot put in for her, won her, and married her. A good speculation it turned out too, for he got the matter of one hundred thousand dollars by her, if he got a cent. A^ 8* 178 THE AWACHE; OR, i n^^iJil ,i ' ii Boon as they were fairly welded, off they sot (o take the tour of Eu- rope, and tliey larfed and cried, and kissed and quarrelled, and fit and made up all over the Continent, for her t(!niper was as onsartain as the climate here — rain one minit and sun the next ; but more rain nor sun. " He was a fool, \vas Cranbery. He didn't know how to manage her. His bridle hand warii't good, I tell yo A spry, niettlesojoe boss, and a dull critter with no action, don't mate well in harness, that's a fact. "After goin' everywhere, and everywhere else a'niost, where should they get to but the Alps. One arternoon, a sincerely cold Ote it was too, and the weather, violent slippy, dark overlook them before they reached the top of one of the highest and steepest of them mountains, and they had to spend the night at a poor squatter's shanty. " Well, next mcrnin', jist at day-break, and sun-rise on them ever- lastin' hills is tall sun-rise, and no mistake, p'rhaps notiiin' was ever seen so fine except the first one, since creation. Jt takes the rag oiF quite. Well, she was an entei-prisin' little toad, was Miss Lot too, ai'eered of nothi'i' a'most ; so nothin' would sarve her but she must out and have a scramb up to the tip-topest part of the peak afore breakfast. " Well, the squatter there, who was a kind o' guide, did what he could to dis})ersuade her, but all to no purpose ; go she would, and a headstrong woman and a runaway boss are jist two things it's out of all reason to try to stop. The onl}- way is to urge 'em or, and then, bein' contrary by natur' they stop of themselves. " ' AVell,' sais the guide, 'if you will go, marm, do take this pike staff, marm,' sais he : (a sort of walkin'-stick with a spike to the eend of it,) ' for you can't get either up or down them slopes without it, it is so almighty slippy there.' So she took the staff, and off she sot and climbed and chmbed ever so far, till she didn't look no bigger tlian a snow bird. ''At la.-t she came to a small Hat place, like a table, and then she turned round to rest, get; breath, and take a look ut the glorious view; and jist as she hove-to, up went her little heels, and away went her stick, right over a big parpenlicular clltf, hundi-eds and hundreds, and thousands of feet deep. So deep, you couldn't see the bottom for tlie shadows, for the ve»'y snow looked black down there. There is no way in, it is so steep, but over the cliff; and no way out, but one, and tiiat leads to t'other world. 1 can't describe it to you, though I have see'd it since myself There are some things too big to lift ; some too big to carry after they be lifted ; and some too grand for the tongue to describe, too. There's a notch where dic- tionary can't go no farther, as Avt^' re, every other created thing, tliat'd a fact. l''rh; ps if 1 was to say .-t locked lik" the mould that r 9 SAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 17W tour of Eu- ed, and fit is onsivrtain t more rain to manage nieltlesonie in harness, ost, where cerely cold nook them steepest of r squatter's them ever- i' was ever the rag olF iss Lot too, it she must peak afore lid what he oukl, and a ngs it's out em or , and e this pike to the ecnd ,'iLhout it, it [ oft" she sot i DO bigger id tlien she irious view ; y went her I hundreds, the bottom ;re. There ay out, but i it to you, iiigs too big id some too where dic- ated thing, mould that IT' that 'are very peak was cast in, afore it was cold and stiff, and sot up on eend, I should come as near the mark as anything I know on. " Well, away she slid, i'aaX, and hands out, all flat on her face, right away, arter her pike staff. Most people would have giim it up as gone goose, and others been so frightened as not to do any- thing at all ; or at most only jist to think of a orayer, for there was no time to say one. " But not so Lot's wife. She was of a conquerin' natur'. She never gave nothin' up, till she couldn't hold on no longer. She was one o' them critters that go to bed mistress, and rise master ; and just as she got to the edge of the precipice, her head hangin' over, and her eyes lookin' down, and she all but ready to shoot out and launch away into bottomless space, the ten commandments brought her right short up. Oh, she sais, the sudden joy of that sudden stop swelled her heart so big she thought it would have bust like a byler ; and, as it was, the great endurin' long breath she drew, arter such an allired escape, almost killed her at the ebb, it hurt her so." " But," said Mr. Hopewell, " how did the ten commandments save her? Do you mean figuratively, or literally. Was it her reliance on providence, arising from a conscious observance of the decalogue all her life, or was it a book containing them, that caught against something, and stopt her descent. It is very interesting. Many a person, Sam, has been saved when at the brink of destruc- tion, by laying fast hold on the Bible. Who can doubt, that the commandments had a Divine origin ? Short, simple, and com- prehensive ; the first four point to our duty to our Maker, the last six, towards our social duties. In this respect there is a great similarity of structure to that excellerit pr;'vor given us " " Oh, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I beg j^ur pardon, 1 do, indeed, I don't mean that at all ; and I do declare and vow now, I wasn't a playin' possum with you, nother. I won't do it no more, I won't, indeed." " Well, what did you mean, then i ' "Why, I meant her ten fingers, to be s- -e. When a wommi clapper claws her husband, we have a cant tarm with us boys of Slickville, sayin' she 'nive him her ten commandments." " And a very improper expression, too. Sir," said Mr. Hopewell ; " a vei-y ii-reverent, indecent, and I may say profane expression ; I itfu quite shocked. But as ycu say you didn't mean it, are sorrj' fui- jt, and will not repeat it again, I acce))t your apology, and rely on your promise. Uo on, Sij*." " Well, as I was a sayin', the moment she found her.-elf a coasting of A that way, fiounder fashion, she hung on by her ten com — 1 mean her ten fingers, a;id her ten toes, like grim death to a dead aigger, and it brouglit l.er up jist in time. But hew to get back was the question ? To let go the hold of any one hand was sai'tin 180 TILE ATTACHE ; OIJ, I t I? -. ■ death, and tliere w«s nobody to help her, and yet to hold on long that way, she couldn't, no how she could lix it. " So, what docs she do, (for nothhi' equals a woman for con- trivances), but move one finger at a time, and then one toe at a time, till she gets a new hold, and then ciawls backward, like a span-woi'm, an inch at a hitch. Well, she works her passage this way, wrong eend foremost, by backin' of her paddles for the matter of half an hour or so, till she ge^s to where it was roughish, and somethin' like standin' ground, when who should come by but a tall handsome man, with a sort of half coat, half cloak -like coverin' on, fastened round the waist with a belt, and havin' a hood up, to ambush the head. " The moment she clapt eyes on him, she called to him for help. ' Oh,' sais she, ' for heaven's sake, good man, help me up ! Jist take hold'Of my leg, and draw me back, will you, that's a good soul?' And then she held up fust one leg for him, and then the other, most beseechin', but nothin' would move him. He jist stopt, looked back for a moment, and then progressed agin. " Well, it ryled her considerable. Her eyes actilly snapped with fire, like a hemlock log at Christmas : (for nothin' makes a woman so mad as a parsonal slight, and them little ankles of hern were enough to move the heart of a stone, and make it jump out o' the ground, that's a fact, they were such fine-spun glass ones,) it made her so mad, it gave her fresh strength ; and makin' two or three onnateral efforts, she got clear back to the path, and sprung right up on eend, as wicked as a she-bear with a sore head. But when she got upright agin, she then see'd what a beautiful frizzle of a fix she was in. She couldn't hope to climb far ; and, indeed, she didn't ambition to ; she'd had enough of that for one spell. But climbin' up was nothin', compared to goin' down hill without her stafi'; so what to do, she didn't know. " At last, a thought struck her. She intarmined to make that man help her, in sj)ite of him. So, she sprung forward for a spac*:!, like a painter, for life or death, and caught right hold of his cloak. ' Help — help me !' said she, ' or I shall go for it, that's sartain. Here's my ])uss, my rings, my watch, and all I have got : but, oh, help me ! for the love of God, help me, or my flint is fixed for good and all.' " With that, the man turned round, and took one glance at her, as if he kinder relented, and then, all at once, wheeled back agin, as amazed as if he was jist born, gave an awful yell, and started off as fast as he couM r-lip, though that warn't very tali runnin' nother, iting the residence of my foretiithers on the Tweed, which, although it had [)assed out of their posses- sion many years ago, wu$ &ti>il einleared to me as their home, as I mmm - ^^-*.^^. Jt i i W i "- ! ^ ^^ i.v,..-Ka9 a^' VI ill (It- i f w 184 THE ATTACH^; OP, the scene of the family traditions ; and above all, as their bunal place. The grave is the first stage on Ihe journey, from this to the other world. AVe are permitted to escort ou^friends so far, and no fur- ther. It is there we jiart for ever. It is there the human form is deposited, wlien mortality is changed for immortality. This burial- place contains no one that I have ever seen or known ; but it con- tains the rc.'mains of those from whom I derived my liii'Mge and my name. 1 therefore naturally desired to see it. Having communicated my intention to my two American compan- ions, I was very much struck with the difierent manner in which they received the announcement. '' Come back soon, Squire," said Mr. Slick ; "' go and sec your old friend, if you must, and go to the old campin' grounds of your folks ; though the wigwam 1 expect has gone long ago, but don't look at anythin' else. I want we should visit the country together. ter, or much richer, than our Ingian chiefs ; much of a muchness, kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce ; both as poor as Job's Turkey, and both tarna- tion proud — at least that's my idea to a notch. " 1 have often axed myself what sort of u gall that splenderiferous, ' Lady of the Lake ' of Scott was, and I kinder guess she was a red- headed Scotch heifer, w ith her hair filled with heather, and feather, and lint, wUh no shoes and stockings to her feet ; and that ' Her lips apart, Like monument uf Grecian art,' meant that she stared wiih her eyes and mouth wide open, like other county galls that never seed nothing before — a regilar screetch owl in petticoats. And I suspicion, that Mr. Rob lioy was a sort of thievin' devil of a white Mohawk, that found it easier to steal cat- tle, than raise them himself; and that Loch Katrin, that they raa^e such a touss about, is jist about equal to a good sizeable duek-pond in orr country ; at least, that's my idea. For 1 tell you, it does not do to follow arter a poet, and take all he says for gospel. " Yes, let's go and see Sawney i,< his ' Ould JticrhjJ Airth and seas ! if I have any nose at all, there never was a place so well named as that. Phew ! let me light a cigar to get rid of the fogo of it. " Then let's cross over the sea, and see ' Pat at Home ;' let's look into matters and things there, and see what 'Big Dan' is cbojt, with his ' association ' and ' agitation ' and ' I'epail ' and MMifa llieir bunal ? to the other •, and no fur- iman foim is Tiiis biirial- ; but it con- 'Mgc a.Mil my can com pun- ier in 'svhic'h id sec your nds of your go, but don't try together, and is over- ut their old 't much bet- i muchness, >dds. Both both tarna- nderiforous, was a red- md feather, , like other reetch owl a sort of > steal cat- they ma.ve duck-pond it docs not jVirth and I'c so well f the i'o * SAM SLICE IN ENQLAKD. 185 4 -u pail' ano 'teetotals.* Let's see whether it's John Bull or Patlander that's to blame, or both on 'em ; six of one and half-a-dozen of tother. By Gosh ! Minister would talk more sense in one day to Ireland, than has been talked there since the rebellion ; for common sense is a word that don't grow like Jacob's ladder, in them dig- gins, I guess. It's about as stunted as Gineral Nichodemus Ott's corn was. " The Gin, I have a thousand things I want to tell you, and I shall forget one half o' them, if you don't ; and be- sides," said he in an under tone, " he," (nodding his head towards Mr. Hopewell,) " will miss you shockingly. He frets horridly about his fiock. Hie says, ''Mancipation and Temperance have superseded the Scriptures in the States. That formerly they preached religion there, bu^ now they only preach about niggers and rum.' Good bye, Squii' e, but 166 THE ATTACUii : OR, ! \ ■f "You do right, Squire," said Mr. Ilopewoll, " to go. Tliat which hns to bo dun*', ^^hould be , )ne .■-oon, lor we ha\c no! il.vnys tlie coniniand of c jr time. See youi' friend, ("or the elaini- ut'iriendsliip are i-aei'ed; anu sue joiir i'aniily tomb-.slones al-o, lor tiie ^igiit of them will awaken f\ train orrellections in a mind like yours, at onee nielaneholy and elevating; but I will not de[)riv cial regiments, agitate and sever tliirteen colonies at one time from the government of Kiigiaiid. 1 havi; witness(xl the struggle. It waa a fearful, a bloody, and an unnatural one. My o})inions, therefore, are strong in ])rc)j)ortion as my exjierience is great. 1 have abstained on aecouiiL of their appearing like preconceptions from saying much to you yet, for i want to see more of this country, and to be certain that I am ^.J^ ^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) .^^ . V^4 %^ z 1.0 I.I -1^ 12-5 50 "^ i^B 1^ 12.2 ■ 50 US t Its 120 L25 II 1.4 I 1.6 <^ f 7 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 188 THE ATTACH*:; OR, temperate, but firm one : steady to its friends, just to its enemies, and inflexible to all. When compelled to yield, it should be by force of reason, and never by the power of agitation. Its measures should be actuated by a sense of what is riglit, and not what is expedient, for to concede is to recede — to recede is to evince weakness — and to betray weakness is to invite attack. " 1 am a stranger here. I do not understand this new word, Con- servatism. I comprehend the other two, Toryism and Liheralism. The one is a monarchical, and the other a republican word. The term,. Conservatism, I suppose, designates a party formed out of the moderate men of both sides, or rather, composed of Low-toned To- ries and High Whigs. I do not like to express a decided opinion yet, but ijiy first impression is always adverse to mixtures, for a mix- ture renders impure the elements of which it is compounded. Every- thing will depend on the preponderance of the wholesome over the deleterious ingredients. I will analyse it carefully, see how one neutralizes or improves the other, and what the etlect of the com- pound is likely to be on the constitution. I will request our Ambas- sador, P^verett, or Sam's friend, the Minister Extraordinary, Abed- nego Layman, to introduce me to Sir Robert Peel, and will endeavor to obtain all possible infoi'mation from the best possible source. " On your return I will give you a candid and deliberate opinion." After a silence of some minutes, during which he walked up and down the room in a fit of abstraction, he suddenly paused, and said, as if thinking aloud — " Hem, hem — so you are going to cross the border, eh ? That nortbern intellect is strong. Able men the Scotch, a little too radi- cal in politics, and a little too illiberal, as it is called, in a matter of much greater consequence ; but a superior people, on the A'hole. They will give you a warm reception, will the Scotch. You? name will ensure that ; and they are clannish ; and another warm recep- tion will, I assure you, await you here, when, returning, you agjiin Cross the Border." I ]' \ CHAPTER XXX. THE OLD AND THE NEW WORLD. The first series of this work had scarcely issued from the press, \?hen I was compelled to return to Nova Scotia, on urgent private affairs. I was fortunately not detained long, and arrived again at Liverpool, after an absence of three months. To my surprise, I found Mr. Slick at the Liner's Hotel. He was evidihtly out of spirits, and even the excitement of my unexpected retuite did nr ' at f ' i ■ I I I ', w mn ifrwmrmm^'mmrtmm R' SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 189 wholly dissipate his gloom. My fears were at first awakened for the safety of my excellent friend Mr. Hopewell, but I was delighted to find that he was in good health, and in no way the cause of Mr. Slick's anxiety. I pushed my inquiries no further, but left it to him to disclose, as I knew he would in due time, the source of his grief. His outer man was no less changed than his countenance. He wore a dress-coat and pantaloons, a gaudy-figured silk waistcoat, black satin stock, and Parisian hat. A large diamond brooch decorated his bosom, and a heavy gold chain, suspended over his waistcoat, se- cured his watch ; while one of very delicate texture and exquisite workmanship supported an eye-glass. To complete the metamor- phosis, he had cultivated a very military moustache, and an impe- rial of the most approved size finished the picture. I was astonished and grieved beyond measure to find that three short months had effected such a total change in him. He had set up for a man of fashion, and in his failure had made himself, what he in his happier days would ha\ e called " a caution to sinners." His plain, unpre- tending attire, frank rough manners, and sound practical good sense, had heretofore always disarmed criticism, and rendered his peculi- arities, if not attractive, at least inoifensive and amusing, inasmuch as altogether they constituted a very original and a very striking character. He had now rendered himself ridiculous. It is impos- sible to express the pain with which I contemplated this awkward, over-dressed, vulgar caricature ; and the difficulty with which I recognized my old friend the Clockmaker in dandy Slick. Dress, however, can be put on or laid aside with ease, but fortunately a man's train of thinking is not so readily changed. It was a source of great satisfaction to me, therefore, to find, as soon as he began to converse, that, with the exception of a very great increase of per- sonal vanity, he was still himself. " Well, I am glad to see you again, too. Squire," he said, " it railly makes me feel kinder all-overish to shake hands along with you oncet more ; and won't Minister feel hand-over-foot in a twit- . teration when he hears you've come back. Poor dear old critter, he loves you like a son ; he says you are the only man that has done us justice, and that though you rub us pretty hard sometimes, you touch up the blue noses, and the British, too, every mite and mossel as much, and that it is all done good-natured, and no spite or pre- judice in it nother. There is no abuse in your books, he says. Yes, I am glad to see you, 'cause now I have got some one to talk to, that has got some sense, and can understand me, for English don't actilly know nothin' out of their own diggins. There is a great contrast atween the Old and the New World, ain't there ? I was tallving to John Russel the other day about it." " Who is he T' I said ; " is he a skipper of one of the liners ?" *' Lord love you, no ; he i?- the great noble — Lord Russel — th« 190 THE ATTACH^;; OR, <■' I leadin' Whig statesman. It's only about a week ago I dined with him to Norfolk's — no, it wam't to Norfolk's, it was to Normamby's." " Is that the way," I again asked, " that you speak of those per- sons ?" " Isn't it the way they speak to each other ?" said he ; " doesn't Wellington say, ' Stanley, shall I take wine with you ?' and if they do, why shouldn't I? It mayn't be proper for a common Britisher to say so, because they ain't equal; but it's proper for us, for we are, that's a fact ; and if it wa'n't boastin', superior, too, (and look at here, who are tliese bigs bugs now, and what was they originally ?) for we have natur's nobility. Lord, I wish you could hear Stever- man talk of them and their ceremonies." " Don't you follow Steverman's example, my good friend," I said : " he has rendered himself very ridiculous by assuming this familiar tone. It is very bad taste to talk that way, and no such absurd ceremony exists of creating peers, as I understand he says there is ; that is a mere invention of his to gratify democratic prejudice. Speak of them and to them as you see well-bred people in this country do, neither obsequiously nor familiarly, but in a manner that shows you respect both them and yourself." *' Come, I like that talk," said Mr. Slick ; " I'm a candid man, I am, indeed, and manners is a thing I rather pride myself on. I ha'n't had no great schoolin' that way in airly days, but movin' in high life, as I do, I want to sustain the honor of our great nation abroad ; and if there is a wrong figur', I'm for spitten' on the slate, rubbin' it out, and puttin' in a right one. I'll ask Minister what he thinks of it, for he is a book ; but you, ('xcuse me, Squ> \o offence I hope, for I don't mean none,) but you are nothin' L . colonist, you see, and don't know everything. But, as I was saym', there Is a nation sight of difference, too, ain't there, atwec .1 an old and a new country ? but come, let's go into the coffee-room and sit down, and talk, for sittin' is just as cheap as standin' in a general way." This spacious apartment was on the rip^ht hand of the entrance hall, furnished and fitted in the usual mariner. Immediately behind it was the bar-room, which communicated with it in one corner by an open window, and with the hall|J)y a similar aperture. In this corner, sat or stood the bar-maid, for the purpose of receiving and communicating orders. ^ " Look at that gall," said Mr. Slick, '* ain't she a smasher ? What a tall, well-make, handsome piece of furniture she is, ain't she? Look at her hair, ain't it neat ? and her clothes fit so well, and ans BO nice, and her cap so white, and her complexion so clear, and she looks so good-natured, and smiles so sweet, it does one good to look at her. She is a whole team and a horse to spare, that gall — that's a fact. I go and call for two or three glasses of brandy-cocktail more than I want every day, just for the ss^e of talking to her. She SAM SLICK. IN ENGLAND. 191 led with amby's." lose per- " doesn't ' they do, tisher to • we are, look at rinally ?) : Stever- ," I said : ; familiar ti absurd there is ; »rejudice. e in this , manner d man, I If on. I novin' in at nation the slate, what he offence colonist, there is id a new Dwn, and entrance y behind )rner by In this ^ing and What n't she? and ana and she 1 to look I — that's ■cocktail r. Slie always says, * "What will you be pleased to have, Sir?' ' Somethin',' says I, * that I can't have,' lookin' at her pretty mouth about the wickedest ; well, she laughs, fk a young gall all the news, s;hc'll tell you of nil the deaths in the place, to make you think she don't trouble herself about marriages. Ask an old woman, siie'Il tell yon of all the marriages, to make you think she is takin' an interest in the world that she ain't. They sartainly do beat all, do women. Well, then, Marm will jump up all of a sudden, and say, * But, dear me, while I am a sitten' here a talkiu', there is no orders for your lunch ; what will you have. Squire?' ' What you can't get anywhere in first chop style,' says you, ' but in Nova Scotia, and never here in perfection, but at your houst? — a broiled chicken and blue-nose potatos.' * Ah !' says she, puttin' up her finger, and lookin* arch, ' now, you are makin' fun of us. Squire ?' ' Upon my soul I am not,' says you, and you may safely swear to that, too, I can tell you ; for that house has a broiled chicken and a potato for a man that's in a hurry to move on, that may stump the world. Well, then, you'll light a cigar, and stroll out to look about the location, for you know every tree, and stone, and brook, and hill, about there, as well as you know beans, and they will talk to the heart as plain us if they was gifted with gab. Oh, home is home, however homely, I can tell you. And as you go out, you sec faces in the bar-room ycu know, and it's, ' Oh, Squire, how are you ? — Welcome home agin, — glad to see you once more ; how have you had your health in a general way ? Saw your folks driven out yestei'day — they are all well to home.' " They don't take their hats off, them chaps, for they ain't depen dants, like tenants here : most of them farmers are as well off as you be, and some on 'em better ; but they jist up and give you a shake of the daddle, and ain't a bit the less pleased ; your books have made 'em better known, 1 can tell yoa. They are kinder proud of 'em, that's a fact. Tlien the moment your back is turned, what's their talk ? — why it's * Well, it's kinder nateial to see hiiu back here again among us, ain't it ? He is lookin' well, but he is broken a good deal, too; he don't look so cheerful as he used to did, and don t you mind, as he grows older, he looks more like his fa- ther, too ?' * I've heered a good many people remark it,' says they. ' Where on airth,' says one, * did he get all them queer stories he has sot down in his books, and them Yankee words — don't it beat all natur ?' ' Get them,' says another ; ' why, he is a sociable kind of man, and as he travels round the circuits, he happens on a purpose, accidentally like, with folks, and sets 'em a talkin', or makes an ex- cuse to light a cigar, goes in, sets down and hears all and sees all. I mind, 1 drove liim to Liverpool, to court there oncet, and on our way we stopt at Sawaway village. Well, I stays out to mind the. horse, and what does lio do but goes in, and scrapes acquaintance with Marm — for if there is a man and a woman in the room, petti- 194 THE AITACIlfe; OR, 1 ;^;c roats is sartain fo carry tlie day wiilj him. Wtll, wlion I ,'oma i'iU'k, there was him aiiU Marm a staiidiu' up by the inaiilci-piccc, a,s thick as two tliiuves, a chaittin' away as if they had kiiowcd each other for ever a'niost. When she come out, says islie, ' Wlio on airth is that man? he is the most sociable man I ever t^eed.' 'Tiiat?' says J. 'Why, it's Lawyer Poker. 'Poker!' says she, in great fright, and a rasin' of her voice ; ' which Poker? for there is two of that name — one that lives to llalitax, and one tluit lives to Windsor ; which is it ?' says she; ' tell me, this minnit.' ' Why,' says 1, ' hira that wrote the " Clockmaker." ' ' W'hat, Sam Slick ?' says she, and she screamed out at the tip eend of her tongue, ' Oh, my goodies I if I had knowed that, I wouldn't have gone into the room on no ac- count. They say, though he appears to take no notice, nothin' never escapes him ; he hears everything, and sees everything, and lias his eye in every cubbey-hole. Oh, dear, dear, here 1 am with the oldest go wild ou 1 have, with two buttons off behind, and my liair not curled, and me a talkin* away as if he was only a common msm ! It will be all down in the next book, see if it ain't. Lord love you, what :nade you bring him here, — 1 am frightened to death; oh, dear! oh, dear ! only think of this old gownd ! That's the way he gets them ctories, he gets them in travellin'.' " Oh, Squire, there's a vast difference atween a thick peopled and a thin pco[)led country. Here you may go in and out of a bar-room or cofi'ee-room a thousand times, and no one will even ax who you are. They don't know, and they don't want to know. Well, then. Squire, just as you are a leaven' of liedford-house to progress to Windsor, out runs black Jim, (you recollect Jim that has been there so long, don't you ?) a grinnin' from ear to ear like a catamount, and opens carriage-door. ' Grad to see you back, massa ; miss you a travellin' shocking bad, sar. 1 like your society werry much — you werry good company, sar.' You give him a look as much as to say ' What do you mean, you black rascal ?' and then laugh, 'cause you know he tried to be civil, and you give him a shilling, and then Jim shows you two rows of ivory, such as they never seed in this coun- try, in all their born days. \0h, yes, smile for smile, heart lor heart, kindness lor kindness, welcome for welcome — give me old Nova Scotia yet ; — there ain't nothin like it here.'^ There was much truth in the observations of Mr. Slick, but at the ?ame time they are not free from error. Strangers can never expect to be received in any country with the same cordiality liiends antl old patrons are ; and * ven where the disposition exists, if crowds travel, there is but little time that can be spared for congratulations. In the main, however, the contrast he has drawn is correct, and every colonist, at least, must feel that this sort of civility is more sincere and less mercenai'^ in the New iLan in the Old World. ■;3 ■I I BAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 195 vlicn I ,'oma in;uit(.'l-|)'K!CC, kiiowi'd each Who on aiith 'That?' says great iVight, i two of that to Whidsor ; says I, ' him says she, and , my goodies I x)in on no ac- not\im' never K, and has his vitii the oldest [\ir not curled, nan ! It will Dve you, what oh, dear ! oh, he gets them k pe'opled and of a bar-room even ax who know. Well, se to progress hat has been c a catamount, 6sa ; miss you ry much — you uich as to say r\\, 'cause you and then Jim J in this coun- eart for heart, me old Nova •. Slick, but at ers can never une cordiality he disposition L-au be spared intvast he has foel that this ill tiie New CHAPTER XXXI. THE BOARDING-SCHOOLS. While strolling about the neighborhood of the town tliis after- noon, we passed what Colonel Slick would have called '' several little detaclmients of young ladies,'* belonging to a boarding-school, each detachment having at its head an ollicer of the establishment. Youth, innocence, and beauty, have always great attractions for me; 1 liktj young people, I delight in talking to them. There is a joy- ousness and buoyancy about them, and they are so full of life and hope, it revives my droo[)ing spirits, it awakens agreeable recol- lections, and makes me feel, ibr the time, at lea^t, that I am young myself. " Look at thos»i beautiful creatures !" I said, " Mr. Slick. They seem as happy as birds just escaped from a cage." "Yes," said he. "And what a cussed shame it is to put *em into a cage at all ! In the West Indgies, in old time,', every plantation had a cage lor the little niggers, a great large enormous room, and all the little darkies was i)ut in there and spoon-fed with meal- vittals by some old granny, and they were as fat as chl ..' ns and as lively as crickets, (you never see such happy little imps oi darkness since you was born,) and their mothers was sent off to the fields to work. It saved labor and saved liine, and labor and time is money, and it warn't a bad contrivance. Well, old Bunton, Joe Sturge, and such sort of cattle of the Abolition breed, when theys.heerd of this, went a roarin' and a bellowin' about all over England, like cows that had lost their calves, about the horrid cruelty of these nig- ger coops. " Now, these boardin'-schools for galls hex'e is a hundred thousand times wuss than the nigger nurseries was. Mothers send their chil- dren here cause they are too lazy to tend *em, or too ignorant to teach 'em themselves, or 'cause they want 'em out o' the way that they may go into company, and not be kept to home by kickin', squeelin', gabblin' biats; and what do they larn here? why, nothin' that they had ought to, and everything that they had ought not to. They doi;'t love their parents, 'cause they hante got that care, and tliat fondiin', and protection, and that habit that breeds love. Love vion't grow in cold ground, I can tell you. It must be sheltered •if "T^i-aai 196 THE A'lTACHfi; OR, '■I '! from tlie frosl, ami protected from the storm, and watered with tears, and warmed with tlie lieat of tlie heart, and tl»e soil be ivept free from weeds; and it nuist have support to lean on, and he tended with eare day and night, or it pines, grows yaller, iad(;s away, and dies. It's a tender plant, is love, or else 1 don't know human natur, that's all. Well, the parents don't love them nother. Mothers can ffct weaned as well as babies. Tlu; same causes a'most makes folks ovc their children, that makes their children love them. Whoever liked another man's llower-garden as well as his own? Did you ever see one that did? for I never did. He haint tended it, he haint watched its growth, he haint seed the (lowers bud, unfold, and bloom. They haint growd vp under his eye and hand, he haint attached to them, and don't care tcho plucks 'em. '* And then, who can teach religion but a mother? Religion is a thing of the aHections. Lord! paisons may preach, and clerks may make 'sponses for e\er, but they won't reach tlic little heart of a little child. All / got, 1 got from mother, for iiither was so almighty im- patient ; if 1 made the leastest mistake in the world in readin' the Bible, he used to fall to and swear like a trooper, and that spiled all. Mini>tcr was always kind and gentle, but he was old, and old age seems so far off from a child, that it listens with awe, scary like, and runs away screamin' with delight as soon as it's over, and forgets all. Oh ! it's an onnateral thing to tear a poor little gall away fiom home, and from tdl she knows an/1 loves, and shove her into a house of strangers, and race off and leave her. Oh! what a sight of little chords it must stretch, so that they are never no good arterwards, or else snap 'em right short off. How it must harden the heart and tread down all the young sproutin' feeliu's, so that thoy can never grow up and ripen ! '• Why, a gall ouglit to be nothin but a lump of affection, as a Mothtjr Carey's chicken is nothin' but a lump of fat; not that she has to love so much, but to endure so much ; not that she has to bill and coo all day, lor they plaguy soon get tired of that ; but that she has to give up time and give up inclination, and alter her likes and alter her dislikes, and do everythin' and bear everythin', and ail for affection. She ought to love, so that duty is a pleasure,^or where there is no love there will be no duty done right. You wouldn't hear of so many runaway matches if it warn't ibr them cussed boardin* schools, 1 know. A young chap sees one of these angeliferous galls a goin' a walkin', and inquires who she is and what she is. He hears she has a great forien', and he knows she has great beauty — splendid gall :^lle is, too. She has been taught to stand straight and walk-stiaight, like a drill-tarjeant. She knows how to get into a carriage and show no legs, and to get out o' one as much' onlike a bear and as nuu:li like a hidy as possible, never starn fust, but like a diver, head fust. She can stand in fust, second, or third position t« SAM SUCK IN ENGLANP. 197 >iatcr«i(l with I soil be kept [\nkl, and bloom. Int attached to Religion is a ,nd clerks may licart of a little o almighty im- i in readin' the ind that spiled ms old, and old vith awe, scary as it's over, and poor little gall , and shove her or. Oh I what y arc never no How it must lutiu' feeliu's, so f affection, as a at ; not that she It she has to bill It ; but that she jr her likes and hin', and all for asure, /or where a wouldn't hear cussed boardin' igeliferous galls lat she is. He groat beauty — und straight and . to get into a s much' onlike a . fust, but like a third position te churcli, and hold her book and her elbous graceful — vei-y important church 1 'he smih; scorney, and the smile piteous. She is a most accomplished gull, that's a fact, how can it lie otherwi-e in natur? Aint she at a female seminary, where, though the mistress don't know nothin', idie can teach evcrytliiu', 'cause it's a liishionable school, and very aristocratic and very dear. It must be good, it costs so nmcl^; and you can't get nothin' good without a good price, that's a fact. " Well, forten'-huuter watches and watches till he attra(;ts atten- tion, and the moment she looks at him his eye tells her he loves her. Creation, man ! you might as well walk over a desert of gunjiowder, shod with steel soles and Hint heels, as to tell that to a jrall for the fust time, who.>e heart her seliool-mi>tress and her mother had both made her feel was empty, and that all lu-r education went to write on a paper and put in its window * Lodgin's to let here for a single man.' She is all in a conflustugation in a minute — a lov<'rI — a real lover too, not a school-boy, but an elegant young man. just such a one as she had heerd tell of in novels. How romantic, ain't it ? and yet. Squire, how nateral too, for this poor desarted gall to think like a fool fust, and act like a fool arterwards, ain't it? She knows she warn't made to grow alone, and that like a vine she ought to have sunthin' to twine round tor su})port ; and when she sees this man, the little tendrils of her heart incline right that way at oncet. "But then love never runs smooth. How in the world are they ever to meet, seein' that there is a great high bri(;k wall atween them, and she is shot up mo^t o* the time? Ah! there is the rub. Do you know, dear? Tliere is but one safe way, loveliest of women, only on(>, — run away. Kun away ! that's an awlul word, it fright- ens her most to death ; she goes right off to bed and cries like any- thing, and that clears her head and she thiidis it all over, for it won't do to take such a step as that without considerin'. will it? ' Let mo see,' says she. 'suppose 1 do go, what do I leave ? A cold, formal, perlite mistress, honid pilikelar, and horrid vexed when ukmi admire her boardei-s more than her; a taunten' or a todyin' assistant, and a whole regiment of dancin' masters, music mtisters, and Froieli mas- ters. Lessons, lessons, lessons, all for the head and nothin' for the heart; hard work and a prison-house, with nothin' to see hut feller prisoners a pinin' through the bars like me. And what do I run for? Why, an ardent, passionate, red-hot lover, that is to love me ^ all my life, and more and more every day of my life, and who will shoot himself or drown himsel/ if I don't, for he can't live without me, aud who has glorious plans of happiness, and is sure of success 4< i i'l ' i; f ( i s i 198 THE ATTACH^; OK, In the world, nnd all llmt. It taint rncin' off from fiither nnd mother nothfr, for lln'y nin't hern; nn' bosidos, I am Riirt* and snrtain they will Ixf reconciled in a minute, when tlu'y h«'ar wlint a splendid match I have made, and what a dear beaiititiil man I have married.' It U don<'. *' Ah! where was old marm then, that the little thing; couhl have raced back and r.estled in her bosom, nnd throw'd her arms round her neck, and put Ikt face away back to her ears to hide her blushes? and say 'dear ma', I am in lov(!;' and that she agin could press her up to her heart, and kiss her, and cry with her, and kind o' give way at fust, so as not to sii^ib her too short at oncet, for fear of rearin', or kiekiu', or baekin', or sulkin', but gentle, little by little, jist by degrees get her all right agin. Oh ! where wa^ mother's eye when foriin'-hiniter was a scalin' the brick-wall, that it might see the hawk that was a threatenin* of lur chicken; and where was old father with his gttU to scare him off, or to wing him so he could do no harm ? Why. mother was a dancin' at Almaek's, and father was ahuntin'; then k sarves 'em right, the poacher had been into the presarve and snared the bird, and I don't pity 'em one mossel. " Well, time n.ns away as well as lovers. In nine days puppies nnd bridegrooms begin to get their vyes open in a giineral way. It taint so easy for I rides, they are longer about it ; but they do see at last, and when they do, it's about the clearest. So. one line day, poor little miss b'gins to o|>en Ikt peeixsrs, and the fust thing sho disarns is a tired, lyin' lover — i)romises broke that never was meant to be k<'pt, — hope j as false as vows, and a me.->s of her own makin', that's pretty considerable tarnation all over. Oh! how she sobs, and cries, and guesses she was wrong, and repents ; and then she writes home, and begs pardon, and, child-like, says she will never do so again. Poor erittur, it's one o' them kind o' things that can't be done agin — oncet done, done for ever ; yes, she begs pardon, but father won't forgive, for he has been larfed at ; mother won't forgive, 'cause she has to tbrgive herself fust, and that she can't do ; and both won't forgive, for it's settin' a bad examjjle. All doors behind the poor little wretch are closed, and there is but one open before her, and that looks into a churchyard. They are nice little places to stroll in, is buryia'-grounds, when you ain't nothin' to do but read varses on tomb-stones ; but it taint every one likes to go there to sle<*p with the silent folks that's onder ground, I can tell you. It looks pl:iguy like her home that's prepared for her ihougli, tor there is a liillci spot on ihe cheek, and a little j)ain in the side, and a little haekin' cough, and an eye sometimes water), and sometimes hectic bright, and tlie sperits is all gone. Well, I've seed them signs so often, 1 know as well what follows, as if it was rain arter three white frosts, melancholy — consumption — u broken heart, and the grave. — This is i/te fruit of a boar din' -school; beautiful fruit, ain't itf It J I SAM SLIGK IN ENOLA.ND. 199 ripened afirre its time, and dropt off the. tree r'rJt/. Tliti mre wm eotrn hji a worm, and that worm wan bred in a boardin'-srhoo/. *• I^onl, whiit II u«irM this is! Wo have to think hi harnusA h.4 well iH (haw in haniL'ss. \\Ve talk of this goveriiriu'nt hi'ing fn'«\ un t. SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND. 201 and one, too, that will hold on like grim death to a dead nigger, — one that he can't lose the grip of, and can't pnll out of", bnt that's got him tight and fast for ever and ever. If the lni^fortunate wretch has any children, Hke tiieir dear inannna, they, in their turn, are packed off to be edicated and ruined, — to be iinished and bedeviled, lx)dy and soul, to a Jioardiu' -school." CHAPTER XXXII. THE REVOLUTIONAliy HERO. The following morning, Mr. Slick, who always made much greater ilespatch at his meals tlian any man I ever saw, called for the daily newspaper before I had half finished my bi-eakfast. " Cotton's ris," said he, " a penny a pound, and that's a'most lour dollars a bale or so; I'm five thousand dollars richer than I was yesterday mornin'. I knowd this must be the case in course, for 1 had an account of last year's crop, and I larnt what stock was on hand here, so I spekilated the other day, and bought a considerable passel. I'll put it off to- day on the enemy. Gauliopilus 1 if here ain't the Great Western a comin' in ;" and he threw down the paper with an air of distress, and sat for some time wholly absorbed with some disagreeable sub- ject. After a while, he rose and j^aid, " Squire, will you take a walk down to the docks along with nie, if you've done breakfast. I'll introduce you to a person you've often heerd tell of, but never saw afore. Father's come. — 1 never was so mad in all my life. — What on airth shall I do with the old man here — but it taives me right, it all comes of my crackin* and boastin' so, in my letters to sister Sal, of my great doings to London. Deai", dear, how provokin* this is ! I ain't a critter that's easy senred off, but 1 swear to man I feel vastly more like scooterin' otf tluia spunkin' up to face him, that's a fact. You know, Squire, 1 am a man of fashion now ;'* and here he paused for a while and adjusted his shirt collar, and then took a lingering look of admiration at a large diamond ring on his forefinger, before its light was extinguished by the glove — ''I'm a man of fashion, now ; 1 move in the lirst circles ; my joosition in so- cx^ty is about as tall as any citizen of our country ever hud; and I must say I feel kinder proud of it. " But, heavens and airth, what shall I do with father ? I warn't broughten up to it myself, and if I hadn't a been as toople as r.iooso wood. I couldn't have gotten the inns aud outs of high life its 1 have. As It was, I most gi'n it up as a bad job : but now I guess I am a> 9« 202 THE attache; or, well ilressed a man as any you see, use a silver fork as if it was nothin' but wood, wine with folks as easy as the best on 'em, and am as fire and easy as if I was to home. It's j^'mii-ally allowed I go the whole fijjjure, and do the thing genteel. IJut father, nirth and seas! he never see nothin' but Sliekville, for liunkerhill only lasted one night and a pieee of next day, and eontinr'nial troops warn't like Broadway or wt'r;t-rend iblks, I tell you. Then, he's eonsiderable hard of het-riii', and you have to yell a thing out as loud as a trainin' gun afore he can understand it. lie swears, too, enough for a whole court-iioiisc when he's mad. lie larnt that in the old war, it was li fashion then, and he's one o' them that won't alter nothin'. lint tliat ain't the worst nother, lie has some o' them country-lied ways that ryle the Britishers so much. He chaws tobaccy like a turkey, fcmokes all day long, and puts his legs on the tabic, and spits like an enjine. Kven to Sliekville these revolutionary heroes was always reckoni'd behind the age ; but in the great world like New York, or London, or Paris, where folks go a-head in manners as well as everthin' else, why it won't go down no longer. I'me a peacable nuvn when I'me good-natured, but I'me ugly enough when I'me ryled, 1 tell you. Now Iblks will i?tuboy lather, and set him on to make him let out jist for a laugh, and if they do, I'me into them as sure as rates. I'll clear the room, I'll be switched if 1 don't. No man shall insult father, and me standin* by, without catchin' it, I know. For old, deaf, and rough as he is, he is lather, and that is a large woi'd when it is spelt riglit. — Yes, let me see the man that will run a rigg on him, and l)y the Tarnal — " litre he suddenly paused, and, turning to a man that was passing, paid, ■' What do you mean by that?" " What?" " Why, runnin' agin me ; you had better look as if you didn't, hadn't you ?" " You be hanged !" said the man, " 1 didn't touch you." '• D — n you !" said Mr. Slick, " I'll knock you into the middle of next week." " Two can play at that game," said the stranger; and in a moment the; Mere both in attitude. Catching the hitter's eye, 1 put my finger U my forehead, and shook my head. " Ah !" said he, " poor fellow I 1 thouglit so," ar I walked away. "You thought so," said Mr. Slick, " did you ? W^ell, it's lucky you Ibund it out afore you had to nut down tlie figures, 1 can tell you." " Come, come," I said, " Mr. Slick, I thout you said you were a man of fashion, and here you are trying to i>ick a quarrel in the street." " Fa-hion, Sir," said he, " it is always my fashion to fight when I'me mad ; but I do suppose, as you say, a street quarrel ain't very genteel. C^ueen might hear it, and it would lower our great nation in the ayi^^ of foreigners. When I'm ready to bust, tlio', 1 like to let oif .stcaui, ami U:em that's by must look our for scaldmgs, that's all. I um rylod, that's a fact, and it's euougli to put a man out of AM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 203 I as if it was 1 'em, and am )\ved I go the irth and seas ! tily lasted one i|)s warn't like s eonsiderable 1 as a train in' Ljli tor a whole war, it was rt lin . But that lied ways that ike a turkey, and spits like •es was always New York, or !rs as well as lie a peacable ;h when I'me d set him on .'me into them if 1 don't. No catchin' it, I and that i^ a man that will t was passing, Why, runnin* you Y' " You — n you !" said eek. " " Two moment the; t my tinger U )oor fellow I 1 id Mr. Slick, ou had to fiet d you were a [quarrel in the to fight when •rel ain't very great nation tho', I like to iildmgs, that's a man out of i BOrts to have this old man come a trampousin' here, to set for a j)i('- tur to Dickens or some other [)rint maker, and for me to set by and hear folks a snickering at it. W he will go a buU-draggin' of ni : about, I'll resign and go right off home agin, for he'll dress so liko old Scratch, we shall have a whole crowd arter our heels whichevt r way we go. I'me a gone sucker, that's a fact, and shall have ; muddy time of it. Pity, too, for 1 am gettin* rather fond of high life ; I find 1 have a kinder natei-al taste for good society. A good tuck out every day, for a man that has a good a[)petite, ain't to bo sneezed at, and as much cljam[)agne, and hock, and madeiry as you can well carry, and cost you nothin' but the trouble of ealin' and drinkin', to my mind is better than cuttin' your own fodder. At first, I didn't care much about wine ; it warn't strong enough, and didn'i. seem to have no fiavor, but taste improves, and I am a considerable judge of it now. 1 always used to think champaigne no better nor mean cial, S(iuire, lor it ain't slow to 1 do like most I thought ' my size. If you'd Lit leaving out length. They and Marquiias She has been Aivl, and Sam Sam and the irned poor old starves me right is a good dog, Rush braggi d, he Lords they e Lords he re- one stared at ;reat a man he ught I'd brag a a-hctul of them e, was there? )U!^ehold is by, od enough lor are the llrst lateral too, for y than any one i' on women — purpose, or on )uk, some how doin' misehief. as ever lived, he has made a 1 me. I'me a father's, tellln' any one cUe's home, I tould t iiothcr, thai'* tn invite from Melb. — Lord Melbourno — no, this is it, — no it tainte nothcr. that's from Lord lirougham, — no, it's in my trunk, — I'll show it to }ou some other tiuK'. 1 ean't 'xactly fathom it : it's a ditch I can't jist pole over ; he's got gome crotchet in his head, but the Lord only knows what. I was proud of lather to Slickville, and so was every one, for he was the makin' of the town, and he was one of our old veterans too ; but here, somehow or anotlier, it sounds kinder odd to have a man a crackin' of himself up as a Bunker Hill, or a -evolutionary hero." CHAnPTER XXXIII. THE EYE. As soon as the ' Great Western' was warped into dock I left Mr. Slick, and returned to the hotel. His unwillingness to meet his father I knew arose from the difference of station in which they were adventitiously placed ; his pride was evidently wounded, and I was reluctant to increase his mortification by witnessing their first interview. I did not see them ui^til the following day, when we were about to depart for London. It was evident, from the appearance of the Colonel, that his son had caused his whole attire to be changed, lor it was p(;rfectly new, and not unlike that of most persons of his age in England. lie was an uncultivated man, of rough manners and eccentric habits, and veiy weak and vain. He had not kept pace with the age in which he lived, and was a perfect specimen of a colonist of the rural districts of Connecticut sixty years ago. I Iiad seen many such persons among the loyalists, or refugees as they were called, who had followed the troops at the peace of 1784 to Nova Scotia. Although quite an original therelbre in England, there was but little of novelty either in his manner, appearance, or trjiin of thought, to me. Men who have a quick perception of the ludicrous in others, are always painiuUy and sensitively alive to ridicule themselves. Mr. Slick, therelbre, watched his father with great uneasiness during our passage in the ti-ain to town, and to pre- vent his exposing his ignorance of the world, engrossed the whole conversation. " There is a change in the fashion h^re. Squire," said he ; " black stocks aint the go ho longer for full dress, and white ones aint quite u{) to the notch nothcr ; to my mind they are a leetle sarvanty. A man of fashion must ' mind his eye' always. I guess I'll send and get some white muslins, but then the dillicully is to tie them neat. Perhaps nothiu' in natur' is so difficult as to tie a whit*', cravat so •;f?f 206 THE ATTACnfi; OR, as not to rurafoozle it or sile it. It requires quite a slight of hand, tiiat's a fact. I used to get our beautiful little chamber-help to do it when 1 first come, for women's f.ngers aint all tliumbs like men's; but the angeiiferous dear was too short to reach up easy, so I had to stand her on the ibot-stool, and that was so tottli.-h I had to ])Ut one hand on one side of her waist, and one on I'olher, to , 'eedy lier like, and that used to set her little heart a h'eatin' like a- drum, and kinder agitated her, and it made me feel port of all-overish too, so we had to ginn it up, ibr it took too long; we never could tie the knot under half an hour. But then, practice makes perfect, and that's a fact. If a feller ' minds his eye' he Avill soon catch the nack, lor the eye must never be let go asleep, except in bed. Lord, it's in little things a man of fiishion is seen in ! Now how many ways there be of eatin' an orange. First, there's my way when I'm alone; take a bite out, suck the juice, tear oti' a piece of the hide and eat it for digestion, and role up the rest into a ball and give it a shy into the street ; or, if other folks is by, jist take a knife and cut it into pie- ces; or if gals is present, strip him down to his waist, leavin' his outer garment hanging graceful over his hi[>^, and his upper man standin' in his beautiful shirt ; or else cpuirtcrn him, with hands off, neat, scientilie, and woi'kmanlike ; oi', if it's forbidden fruit's to be carved, why tearin' him with silver forks into good sizeable pieces for hel})in'. All this is larnt by mindirC your eye. And now, Squire, let me tell you, for nothin' 'sca])es me a'nio.it, though I say it that shouldn't sjiy it, but still it taint no vanity in me to say that nothin' never escapes me. 1 mind my eye. And now let me tell you there aint no maxim in natur' hardly equal to that one. Folks mav go crackin' and bi-ajiiiin' of their knowledjje of Phisionomv, or their skill in Phrenology, but it's all moonshine. A feller can put on any j)hiz he likes and deceive the devil himself; and as for a knowledge of bumjis, why natur' never intended them for signs, or she wouldn't have covered 'em all over with hair, and put them out of sight. Who the plague will let you be puttin'j^our fingers under their hair, and be a foozliu' of their heads ? If it s a man, why he'll knock you down, and if it's a gal, she will look to her brother, as much as to say, if this sassy feller goes a feelin' of my bumi)s, I wish you would let your foot feel a bump of his'n, that will teach him better manners, that's all. No, it's ' all in my eye.' You must look there ibr it. Well, then, some fellers, and especially painters, go a ravin, and a pratin' about the mouth, the ex})ression of the mouth, th"^ seat of all the emotions, the speakin'^outh, the large print of the mouth, and such stuff; and others are for everlastingly a lecturin' about the nose, the expression of the nose, the character of the nose, and so on, jist as if the nose was anything else but a epeekin' trumpet that a sneeze blows thro', and the snuffles gives the rattles to, or that cant uses as a flute ; I wouldn't give n piece of H SAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 207 slight of hand, iber-help to do lbs like men's; isv, so I had lo had to put one foedy her like, ini, and kinder too, so wo had the knot under I tliat's a fact, •k, i'or the eye d, it's in little ways there be alone ; take a and eat it for a shy into the cut it into pie- list, leavin' his lis upper man witii hands off, !n fruit's to be sizeable pieces \c. And now, , thoui^h I say lie to say that )\v let me tell It one. Folks :*hisionomv, or feller can put and as ibr a [n for signs, or I put them out fingers under naji, why he'll er brother, as my bunijis, I hat will teach :.' You mu-^t ially i)ainters, re>sion of the jth, the large • everlastingly the character ng else but a lilies gives the ve ft piece of tobacky for the nose, except to tell mc when my food was good ; nor a cent for the mouth, except as a kennel for the tongue. But the eye is the boy for me ; there's no mistaki^ there ; study that well, and you will read any man's heart, as plain as a book. ' Mind your eye' is the maxim you may depend, either with man or woman. Now I will explain this to you, and give you a rule, with exam[des, as Minister used to say to night-school, that's worth knowing, 1 can tell you. 'Mind your eye' is the rule; now for the examples. Furst, let's take men, and then women. Now, 8(pjire, the hrst rail- road that w IV e all alike, ihey u. Mind yoiir because smiim i' the agreeable ctimes they do tell 'em by, it's that have the id t'other tliat'^ i 1 * I false and cautious. The first is soon found out, by them that live much with them; but I defy old Scratch himself to find the other out without 'miiidin' his eye.' 1 knowed two .-ueli women to Slick- ville, one was all smiles and graces, oh 1 she was as sweet as candy ; oh ! dear, how kind she was. She used to kiss me, and oncet gave me the astmy for a week, she hugged mo so. She called me dear Sam, always. "'Oh! Sammy dear,' says she, *how do you do? How is poor dear old Minister, and the Colonel, your father, is he well? Why don't you come as you used to did to see us? Will you stay dinner to-day ? — do, that's a good fellow. I thought you was oifended, you staid away so long.' " Well, I don't care if I do,' says I, 'seein' that I have nothin' above particular to do; but 1 must titivate up a leetle first, so I'll jist go into the boy's room and smarten a bit.' Well, when I goes in, I could hear her, thro' the partition, say, ' What pos-'' sesses that critter to come here so oVien ? he is ibr ever a botherin' of us ; or else that stupid old Ministcjr comes a prosin' and a potterin' all day : and as for his father, he is the biggest fool in the whole Stale, eh?' Heavens and airth, how 1 curled inwardly ! 1 ielt all up an eend. Father the biggest fool in the State, eh ? 'No, you are mistaken there, old crocodile,' says I to myself. ' Father's own sou is the tallest foul for allowing of himself to be tooken in this way by you. liut keep cool, Sam,' says I to myself, ' bite in your breath, swaller it all down, and sarve her out her own way. Don'tr be in debt, pay all back, principal and interest ; get a receipt in full, and be a free man.' So when I went back, oh! didn't I out-smile her, and out-compliment her; and when I quit, didn't I return her kiss so hard, she said, 'oh 1' and looked puzzled, as if I was goin' to be a fool and fall in love. ' Now,' says I, ' Sauj, study that sci"eech-ov.'l in petticoats, and see how it was you was so took in.' W^ell, 1 watched, and watched, and at last 1 found it out. It bust on me all at once, like. 1 hadn't ' minded her eye.' I saw the face and man- ner was put on so well, it looked quite nateral, but the eye had no passengers from the heart. Trutli warn't there. There was no lamp, it was ' a inaucereriuf/ eye.' Such critters are easy found out by tho^e as see a good deal of them, because they see they talk one way to people's faces, and another way to their backs. They ain't cautious, and folks soon think ; well, when I'm gone my turn will come next, and I'll get it too, and they take care not to give 'em a chance. But a cautious false woman can never be found out but by the eye. 1 know'd a woman once that was all caution, and a jinniral favorite witii every one, every one said what a nice woman slu; was, how kind, how agreeable, how sweet, how friendly, and all that, and so she was. She looked so artless, and smiled so pretty, and listened so patient, and defended any one you abused, or held her tongue, us if she wouldn't jine you; and jist looked like a dear sweet love of a \ 1 n 210 THE ATTACHE; OR, woman that was all poodiioss, good-will to man, chanty to woman, and smiles for all. Well, I tlioujrlit as ever} body did. I ain't a suspicious man, at least I usn't to did to be, and at lliat time I didn't know all the secrets of the eye as I do now. One day I was there to a quiltin' frolic, and I was a-tellin' of her one of my good stories, and she was a lookin straight at me, a takin' aim with her sniih^s so as to hit me with every one on 'em, and a laughin' like anythin' ; 1/ut she happened to look round for a pair of scissors that was on t'other side of her, jist as I was at the funnyist part of my story, and lo and behold! her smiles droi)t right slup ott' like a petticoat when the string's broke;, her face looked vacant tor a minute, and her eye waited till it caught some one else's, and then it found it.s focus, looked right straight for it, all true agin, but she never looked batHc for the rest of my capital story. She had nei'er heard a word of it. * Creation !' savs J, ' is this all a bamm ? — what a fool I be.' I was stumped, I tell you. "Well, a few days artcrwards, 1 found out the eye secret from t'other woman's behaviour, and 1 applied the test to this one, and I hope I may never see daylight agin if there wasn't * the manocvering eye' to perfection. If 1 had know'd the world then as I do now, I should have had some misgivings sooner. No man, nor woman nother, can he a genend favorite, and he true, it don't stand to natur' and common sense. \The world is divided into three classes^ the good, the had, and the indifferent. / If a wouim is a fa- vorite of all, there is somcthin*' wrong. She ought to love the good, to hate the wic/ced, and let the indifferent be. If the indifferent like, she has been pretendin' to them ; if the bad like, she vutM have assented to \them ; and if the good like, under these circumstances, they are duped. A general favorite dontr d. snrve to be a favorite with no on<^ And besides that, I ought to have know'd, and ought to have asked, does she weep with them that weep, because that is friendship, and no mistake. Anybody can smile with you, for it's pleasant to smile, or romp with you, for romping is fine fun ; but will they lessen your trouble by takin' some of tlie load of grief off your shoulders for you and carryin' it? That's the question, for that ain't a pleasant task; but it's the duty of a friend though, that's a fact. Oh ! cuss your univarsal favorites, I say! Giv(; me the rael Jeremiah. " But Lord love you ! obsarvin' is larning. This ain't a deep subject arter all, for this eye study is not rit in cypher like treason, nor in tiie dead languages, that have been dead so long ago, there is only the hair and the bones of them left. Nor foreign languages, that's only fit for singin', swarin', braggin' and blowin' soup when it's hot, nor any kind of lingo. It's the language of natur', and the lan- guage of natui"' is the voice of I'rovidence. Dogs and children ciin larn it, and half the time know it better nor man ; and one of the first lessons and plainest laws of natur' is, ' to mind the eye.^ " BAM 8LICS Iff ENGLAND. 211 harity to woman, r (lid. I nii»'t ft lliiit timo I didn't ! day I Avas there niy good stories, itii her smihis ^'0 ike nnythin' ; l/ut mt v.as on t'other story, and lo und ettieoat wlien the lite, and hor eye it found it.s focus, lever looked bacHc eard a word of it. fool I be.' I was , 1 found out the ipplied the test to in if there wasn't ,v'd the world then ?ooner. No man^ be true. It don't divided into three I a woman is a fa- to lore the good, to ndijf'crent like, she st hare assented to ?s, they are duped. Ith no ont^ And have asked, does Viend-hip, and no asant to smile, or they lessen your shoulders for you jt a pleasant task ; Oh ! cuss your Imiah. ;his ain't a deep pher like treason, \o long ago, there Ibreign languages, in' soup when it's itur', and the lan- and children can ; and one of the the eye: " CHAPTER XXXIV. THE QUEEN. TiiR Archbishop of Canterbury, according to appointment, callea to-day upon Mr. Hopewell, and procured for him the honor of a private audience with tlie Queen. Her Majesty received him most gnu'ioiisly, and appeared to be much struck with the natural grace and ea>e of his manner, and the ingenuousness and simplicity of his character. Many anxious inquiries were made as to the state of the ICpiiiiny tlirou^ih tlic; hind ; to lucak ii-iiiidtT tlic \\vn between hiiullord uiid tenant, iniu-ter and i^ervant, |>ai'i>lii()nei' and rector, and subjeet and sov<;reign. " Ignorant and brutal a^ tiiese people; M'ere, and Anions and cruel as we;linien, and when tlu'y turned their eyes to tln-ir youthful sovereign, and tlrt'ir virgin (jneen, her spotleh.-< purity, her t^ex, her personal helplessness, nnd her many virtues, touehed the hearts of even tlie«e monsters; while llie knowledge that i'ov suc/t u Qturn, millions of swords would hap from their seabbards, in every part of tla; empire, awakenetl their fears, and the wave of sedition rolled baek again into the bo- Fom of the deep, from whieh it had been thrown up by Whigyer^ , liadiealism, and A'^italion. Had there at that juneture bi!(>n a Trinee upon tlut llirone, and that i'rinee unfortunately nut been popular, there would, in all probability, have been a second royal nuiriyr, and a Kobesjiieiiv, or a Cromwell, would have substituted u reign of terror for the mild and merciful govi'rnnient of a constitutional and legitinnite sovereign. The Knglish people owe much to their (^ucen. The hereditary descent of the crown, the more we con.-ider it and the more experienced we become, is, after all, S(piirv, the best, the safest, and the wisest mode possible of transmitting it. " fciam is always exlelling the viilue of u knowledges of human na- ture. It is, no doubt, of great use to the philosopher, and the law- giver; but, at la.'^t, it is but the knowledge of the cunning man. The artful advocate, who plays upon the prejudices of a ji'ry ; the un- principkil politician, who addresses the passions of the vulgar; and the subtle couriier, wlu> works u[)on the weaknesses and loibles of Princes, may pride themselves on their knowledge of human nature, but, in my opinion, the only knowledge necessary for man, in his intercoursie w ith' man, is written in u far diil'crent book — the IJook of Life. " 2s'ow, as resjiects the subject we are talking of, an hereditary monarchy, 1 have often and often meditated on that bcui.tirul ])arable, the lirst and the olilest, as well as one of the most siiikii;'r, 'npre.:- tiive, and in.-truclive of all that are to be found ''.i the Jiilie. It occurs in the ninth chapter of Judges. Abiuielech, you may rewl- lect, Indt.'.'cd his kindled to prepare the way for his ascent to tho throne by a most horrible massacre, using those all'ectionate words, thaft an sjver found in the mouths of all demagogues, for remember, he said 'i am your honi^ uvA i/our i\vslii' liis Ibllowcrs are de- signated i'l ilie L jly record as ' vain and light perfons,' wlio, when they iKcepled thei.? bn;^e to commit that atrocious murder, kaid, surclt/ Jih is CI i' Irof/ar. ')^llK'gmdii:3 and rebels use to tiiis day tlie same alluring language ; they call themselves ' the friends of tho people,' and those that ai'e vile enough to publish seditious tracts i SAM SMCK IV KNGLAND. 213 mdum, in order to M ii>imtlrr the lies I, ituri>liK)in'r jiiul und fuilous and I Kni^lislmicii, and vtMcif^n, and tln-ir >;onal liclijlcssnos', 'II tlie-o inouster.' ; IS of swords would empire, uwakt'iied aVluiri.M'r\, •lure luien a I'riiu'.e nut been popular, oud royal nuirtyr, subsiituled u vv'u^n of aconslitutional owe nuuli to their i more we eoi\sider "ler all, Sipiirv, llio ransmitting it. [ledge of human na- )pher, and the law- liiiyr num. The of a ji'ry; the un- of the vulgar; and sses and loibles of e of hunum nature, iry for num, in his jt book — the Hook _ of, an hereditm^ Tt beautiful jiarable, St tili'ikii.", ';ipre;- l '• ;,!.• liil le. it h, }ou may rewl- U)V his accent to iho atfectionate words, ues, for remember, IS Ibllower.-* are de- ler.-ons,' wlio, when ious murder, haid, i.-e to lliis day the ihe friends of liio sh seditious tracts i and oownrdly enough not to avow (hem, always subscribe th«!m.selvu9 •one of lh(! l*eo|)le.' ^'Ik pcrpotrator^ of this awful murder gave rise to lhue from me and destroy all the noble cedars of Lebanon.' " The shadov of a bramble ! ! — IIow eloquent is this vainglorious boast, of a thing so hunible, so naked of foliage, so pervious to the sun, as a bramble!! — of one, too, so armed, and so constituted by nature, as to dc-troy the fleece and lacerate the flesh of all animals incautious enougii to approach it. As it was with the trees of tht forest, to wliMii tlie o])tion was offered to elect a king, so it is with us in the Sia.es to this day, in the choice of our chief magistrate. The olive, ti u tig, and the vine decline the honor. Content to re- main in tli< -jiiiere in wiiieh Providence has placed them, perform- ing their sl .era! duties i" i way evedilable to themselves, and useful to the public, they pitlci pur>uuig the even tenor of their way to being tian^plaated into the barren soil of politics, where a poisonous atmosphere engenders a feeble circulation, and a sour and deterior- 2U THE ATTACHE ; OR *> Strength state. < 1 ated fruit. The brambles alone contend for the prize ; and how ol'ten are the stately cedars destroyed to make room for those worth- less pretenders. V l{e|)ubli('anism lias caused our country to be over- run by brambles. Tiie Reform Bill has greatly increased them in England, and responsible government has multiplied them tenfold 'in the colonies^/ Mny the oiler of a crown never be made to one here, but may it descend, through all time, to the lawful heirs and descen- dants of this noble Queen. " What a glorious spectacle is now presented in London — the Queen, the >»obles, and the Commons, assembling at their appointed time, aided by the wisdom, sanctified by the prayers, and honored by the presence, of the prelates of the Church, to deliberate for the benefit of this vast empire! What a union of rank, of wealth, of talent, of piety, of justice, of benevolence, and of all that is good and great, is to be found in this national council. The world is not able to shake an empire wkose foundation is laid like that of England But treason ma)- undermine what force dare not assault. \ The of this nation lies in the union of the Church with the To sever this connection, then, is the object of all the evil disposed in the realm, for they are well aware that the sceptre wili fall with the ruin of the altar./ The brambles may, then, as in days of old, have the offer of powtfr. What will precede, and what will follow, such an event, we all full well know. All Holy Scripture was written, we are informed, ' that we might read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest if;' and we are told therein that such an offer was not made in the instance alluded to till the way was prepared for it by the murder of all tho^e lawfully entitled to the throne, and that it was followed by the most fearful denunciations against all the aristocracy of the land. The brambles, then, as now, were levellers; the tall cedars were objects' of their hatred. " It is a holy and blessed union. Wordsworth, whom, as a child of nature I love, has beautifully expressed my ideas on this subjed: " ' Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped to gird An Eiiijlish sovereijiu's brow ! and to tlie throne Whereon nhc sits ! whose deep loundations lie 111 veneration and tlie people's love ; Whose steps arc equity, whose scat is law. Hail to the State oi England I And conjoin' With tliis a salutation as devout, ■' Made to the spiritual lahric of her Church, Founded in truth ; by blood of Martyrdom Cemented ; by the hands of Wisdom reared In beauty of holiIle^s, with ordered pomp, Decent and unreproved. The ^- ico that greet* The majesty of both, shall pray for both ; That mutually protected and sustained, They may endure as long '.■" sea surroundi This favored land, or sunshine warms her soil.' ** SAil SLICK IN ENGLAND. 215 prize; and how u lor tlio.i it greet* ■ After repealing these- verses, to which he gave great cfTect, he Blowly rose from his seat — drew himself up to his full height — and lifted up both his hands, in a manner so impressive as to bring me at once upon my feet. I shall ever retain a most vivid recollection of the scene. His tall ereCt figure, his long white hair descending on his collar, his noble forehead, and intelligent and benevolent countenance, and the devout and earnest expression of his face, was truly Apostolical. His attitude ami manner, as 1 have before ob- served, caused me involuntarily to ri^e, -when he gave vent to his feelings in those words, so familiar to the ear, and so dear to the heart of every churchman, that I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of transcribing them, for the benefit of those whose dissent precludes them iiom tiie honor, and the gratification of constantly uniting with us in their use : " ' Almighty God, whose kingdom is everlasting and power infi- nite, have mercy upon- the whole Church, and so rule the ht;art of thy chosen servant, Victoria, Queen and Governor, of England, that she, knowing ichose minister she is, may, above all things, seek thy honor and glory, and that all her subjects, duly considering whose authority she hath, may faithfully serve, honor, and humbly obey her, in thee, and for thee, according to thy blessed word and ordinance. — Amen.' ** CHAPTER XXXV. SMALL TAL-K. in(]j ler BoilJ " SQriRE," said Mr. Slick, " I am a-goin' to dine with Palm- Lord Palmerston, I mean, to-day, and arter that I'me lor a grand let oft' to Belgrave Scpiare," and then throwing himself into a chair, he said, with an air of languor, " these people will actually kill me with kindness ; I feel e'en a'most used up, — 1 want rest, for I am up to the elbows, — 1 wish you was a-going, too, I must say, for I should like to show you high life, but, unfortunately, you are a colonist. ^The British look down upon you as much as we look down upon fhem, so that you are not i;0 tall as them, and a shocking sight shoi tei than usj/— Lord, 1 wonder you keep your tempc.'r sometimes, whe» you get them compliments I've heerd paid you by the Whigs. ' We'd be better without you by a long ehalk,' they say, 'the colonies cost more than tliey are worth. They only sarve to involve us in dis- putes,' and all such scorny talk ; and then to see you coolly sayin', Great Britain without her colonied would be u mere trunk without THE attache; or, arms or log?:, and then oyphcrin' away ak figure?, to show 'em they are wrong, instead of giviii' 'em baek as good as they send, or up foot anil let \'in have it; and tliis I will say tor the Tories,*! have never heer'd them talk siieh everlastin' inipndent nonsense, that's a faet, bnt the Whig;i is Whigs, 1 tell you. IJut to get haek to these parties, it' you woidd let me or your eolonial minister introduce you to see ety, 1 would giv(! you some hints that would be u.-cl'ul to you, tor 1 have made high lite a study, and my knowledgi; of human natur' and ,-ott sawder has helped me amazingly. 1 know the inns and outs of life from the palaee to the log luit. And I'll tell you now what 1 call geneial rules for soeiety. First, it ain't one man in a huntlrt d knows any subjeet thorough, and if he does, it ain't one time in a thou.-and he has an opportunity, or knows how to avail it. Secondly, a smatterin' is better nor deeper knowledge tor so- ciety, for one is snuill talk, and the other is leeturin'. Thirdly, pretendin' to know, is half the time as good as knowin', if pretendiu' is done by a man of the world cutely. Fourthly, if any erittur axes you if you have been here or there, or know this one or that one, or seen this sight, or t'other sight, always say yes, if you can without lyin', and then f urn right short round to him, and say, ' What's your opinion on it? 1 sliouhl like to hear your views, for they are always so original.' That saves you makin' a fool of yourself by talking nonsense, for one thing, and when a room ain't overly well furnish- ed, it's best to keep the blinds down in a general way; and it tickles his vanity, and that's another thing. Most folks like the sound of their own voices better no" other peoples', and every one thinks a good listener and a good laugher, the pleasantest erittur in the world. Fifthly, lead where ycu know, when you don't, foUer, but soft sawder always. Sixthly, never get cross in soeiety, especially where the galls are, but bite in your breath; and swaller all down. When women is by, fend olf with fun ; when it's only men, give 'em a taste of your breed, delicately like, jist hint in' in a way they can't mistake, ibr a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. Oncet or twice here to London, I've had the rig run on me and our great nation, among men till 1 couldn't stand it no longer. Well, what does 1 do, — why, instead of breakhi' out into an uprorious })assion, 1 jist work round, and work round, to turn the talk a little, so as to get a chance to give 'em a guess what sort of iron I'me made of, and how I'nie tempered, by sayin' naterally and accidentally like, ' 1 was in Scotland the other day, goin' from Kelso to Kdinboro'. There was a good many men folk on the top of the coach, and as 1 didn't know one, 1 jist outs with a cigar, and begins to smoke away all to myself, for company like. A\ ell, one leller began grumblin' and growlin' about sinukin', l\ovv ongenteel it was, and what a nuisance it was, and so on, and all that, and more, too, and then hioked right straight at me, and niA it hadn't ought to be allowed. Well, 1 jist took a squint rouiiil; and, 1 SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 217 to show 'em they 1 thoy s*'»«^ <'^* "P he Tories, 1 havo nonsense, tliat's a lint to gol haek to minister hitrocUu'C wonUl be n^<-ful to owledgii of human 1 know the nnis And ni tell you St, it ain't one nian if he does, it ain't knows liow to avail . knowk'-dge for so- lecturin'. Thirdly, ;K.win',ifl)vetcndm if any crittur axes i' one or that one, or if you can >Yithout d say, '^Vhat's your for they are always •yourself by talking iverly well furnish- a way; and it ticklers , like the sound ot every one thinks a t crittur in the world, oiler, but soft sawder iuUy where the galls ,1. When women 13 u'taste of your breed, ^take, for a nod is as fice here to London, on, among men till 1 do,-why, instead ot ' ork round, and work chance to give 'em a ,w I'me tempered, by m Scotland the other us a good many men know one, 1 ji^^t outs myself, for company •owlin' about smokui , a^, and so on, and all ,.htatme, and^a.d it "a tiiuiut louuih aiia, as I seee somcfkhi' transparent, thai JVC viay get a little peep through it sometimes, at any rate. " Well, then, sposin* its picture that's on the carpet, wait till you licur the name of the painter. If it is Kuf ees, or any one of the old ones," — " Rubens you mean," I said. — "Oil, ye;; iitss that word, i seldom use it," he replied, " for I am sure to make that mistake, i\\u\ theixifore 1 let olhers pronounee it fust. If its llubens, or any ()' them old boys, praise, for its agin the law to doubt them; but if iis a new man, and the company ain't most special judges, criticise. A leetle out of keepin' sais you, he don't use his grays enough, nor glaze down well; ti>at shadder wants depth; gineral eti'ect is good, tho' parts ain't; those eye-brows are heavy enough for stucco, says A on, and other unmeanin' terms like them. It will pass, I tell you, your opinion will be thought great. Them that judged the Cartoon, at Westminster Hall, knew plaguy little more nor that. But if there is a portrait of the lady of the hous(! hangin' up, and its at all like enough to make it out, stop — gaze on it — walk back — closio }-our fingers like a s{)y-glass, and look thro' 'em amazed like — en- chanted — chained to the spot. Then utter, unconscious like, ' that's a 'most a beautiful pictur'; — ^by Heavens that's a speakin' por- trait. Its well painted, too; but, whoever the artist is, he is an onprincipled man.' 'Good gracious,' she'll say, 'how so?' ' Because, ]\fadam, he has not done you justice, he pvetcnds to have a con- science, and says he won't flatter. The cantin' rascal knew he could not add a charm to that face if he was to try, and has, therefore, basely robbed your countenance to put it on to his character. Out on such a villain,' sais you. ' O Mr. Slick,' she'll say, blushin', but lookin' horrid pleased all the time, ' what a shame it is to be so severe, and, besides, you are not just, for I am afeered to exhibit it, it is so flattered.' ' Flattered !' sais you, turiiin' round, and lookin' at her, with your whole soul in your face, all admiration like : — ' flattered ! — impossible, Madam.' And then turn short off, and say to youi'self, aloud, ' Heavens, how unconscious she is of her own power !' " Well, sposin' its roses ; get hold of a moss-rose tree, and say, ' these bushes send uj) few suckers ; I'll tell you how to propagate 'em : — Lay a root bare ; insert the blade of a penknife lengthwise, and then put a small peg into the slit, and cover all up again, and it will give you a new shoot there.' 'Indeed,' she'll say, 'that's worth kiiowin'.' Well, if its annuals, say, ' mix sawdust with tho airth unrl tht^y'll come doub'e, and be of a better color.' 'Dear me 1* she'll say, ' I didn't know that.' Or it" its a tree-rose, say, ' j)ut a silver-skinned onion to iis roots, and it will increase the flavor of the roses, without givin out llie Iciistest mossel in the world of its own.' Or if its a tulip, 'run a necdlelul of yarn thro' the bulb, to vnriogat« it, or some such little information as that.' Oh! its a great thing to liave a gineral little assoitmeut, if its only one thing of a kind, so RAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 219 rcinsparctU, thai -ate. ,et, wait till you any one of the ; 'jiiss thut word, ,e thtvt mistake, Uubens, or any bt them ; but if jiulges criticise, i-ays enough, nor i-ai effect is good, h for stucco, says I puss, I tell you, l.'cd the Cartoon, ior that. But if • up, and its at all walk back— close Amazed like— en- scious like, 'that's ri a speakin' por- jirti.^t is, he is an owso?' 'Because, ds to have a con- ical knew he could md has, therefore, is character. Out I say, blushin', but it is to be so severe, ► exhibit it, it is so tnd lookin' at her, like :— ' flattered ! ind say to yourselt, jwn power 1' i-rose tree, and say, I how to propagate jnknife lengthwise, all up again, and it 111 say, 'that's worth iust with the airth tolor.' ' Dear me . .ce.ro.(S ^ay, ' put a lise the llavor ot the world of its own. e bulb, t<) varlogatrt I its a great thing to thing of a ki"^' ^<' that if its called for, yon needn't send your friend to another shop for it. There is nothiu' like savin' a cu>tonK;r where yon can. In small places they can sound your depth, and tell whether you are a deep nine, or a quarterless six, as easy as nothin'; but here they can't do any such a thing, for circles are too large, and that's tlie beauty of London. Yon don't always meet the same people here, and, in course, can use the same stories over and over agin', and not car-wig lolks ; nothin' is so bad as tellin' the same story twice. Now, that's the way the Methodists do. They divide the country into circuits, and keep their preachers a movin' from place to place. Well, each one has three or four crack sermons, lie puts them into his port manter, gallops into a town, all ready cocked and primed, tires them off, and then travels on afore he is gtiaged and his measure cook ; and the folks say what a'most a grand preacher that is, what a pleasin' man he is, and the next man fust charms, and then breaks their hearts by goin' away agin'. The Methodists are actilly the most broken hearted-i)eople I ever see. They are doomed for ever to be partin' with the cleverest men, tiie best preachers, and the dearest friends in the world. I actilly pity them. Well, these little things must be attended to; colored note-paper, filagreed envelopes, with musk inside and gold wafer outside : deli- cate, refined, and ui)percrust. Some fashionable people don't use those things, and laugh at them little finikin forms. JSow men, and, above all, colony men, that's only half way between an African and a white man can't. / could but you couldn't, that's the difference. Yes, Scpiire, these are rules worth knowin', they are founded on ex- perience, and experience tells me that fashionable peoi)le, all the world over, ai'c, for the most part, as soft as dough ; throw 'em agin' the wall and llusy actilly stick, they are so soft. But, soft as they be, they won't stick to you if you don't attend to these rules, and, above all things, lay in a good stook of soft sawder and small taUc." CHAPTER XXXVI. .WHITE BAIT. "I HAVE been looking about all the morn in' for you, Squire," said Mr. Siick. " where on airth have you packed yourself I We are a goin' to make up a party to Blackwall, and eat white bait, and we want you to go along with us. I'll tell you what sot me on the notion. As I was a browsin' about the park this forenoon, who should I meet but Euclid Hogg of Nahant. ' Why, Slick, ■-rmrr nrwssM 220 THE ATTACHE ; OR, V % h I I I eays he, * how do you do ? it's a month of Sundays a'most -ii'nce I'vc! seed you, s|)o?^in' we make a day of it, and go to Gi-eenwich or Blaekwali; 1 want to hear you talk, and tiiat's better nor your hooks at any time.' ' Well,' says I, ' 1 don't care if 1 do go, if Minister will, ibr you know he is here, and t:0 is father, too.' 'Your father!' said he, a-startin' back — 'your father! Land of Goshen! what ean you do with him?' and his eyes stood still, and looked inward, as if reflecting, and a smile shot rigiit across his cheek, and settled down in the corner of his mouth, sly, I'unny, and wicked. Oh ! how it cut me to the heart, for I knowed what was a passin' in his mind, and if he had a let it pass out, 1 would have knocked him down — I would, I swarc. 'Your father!' said he. ' Yes,' sais I, 'my father, have you any objections, Sir?' sais I, a-clinchin' of my iirst to let him have it. ' Oh, don't talk that way, Sam,' said he, ' that's a good feller, I didn't mean to say nothin* ollensive, I was only a thinkin* what undev the sun fetched him here, and that he must be considerable in your way, that's all. If re- peatin' his name after that fashion hurt you, why I feel as ugly about it as you dik, and beg your pardon, that's all.' Well, nothin' mollifies me like soft words; so says I, 'It was me that was wrong, and I am sori-y fur it ; come, let's go and start the old folks.' ' That's right,' says he, ' which shall it be, Greenwich or Blaekwali ?' ' JJlack- wall,' says 1, ' for we have been to t'other one.' 'So it shall be, old feller,' said he, ' we'll go to Lovegrove's' and have white bait.' White bait,' says I, ' what's that, is it gals ? for they are the best bait I know on.' Well I thought the critter would have gone into fits, he lart'ed so. ' Well, you do beat all, Sam,' said he ; ' what a droll feller you be! White bait! well, that's capital — I don't think it would have raised the idea of gals in any other soul's head but your own, 1 vow.' I knowd well enough what he was a-drivin' at, jr in course a man in fsishionable life, like me, luid eat while bait dinners, and draidc iced punch, often and often, tho' I must say I never tasted them any where but on that part of the Thames, and a'most a grand dish it is too, thcj-e ain't nothin' equal to it hardly. Well, when Euclid had done larfin', says I, ' I'll tell you what put it into my bead. When 1 was last to Nova Scotia, on the Guelph shore, 1 ])ut up to a farmer's house there, one Gabriel Gab's. All the folks was a haulin' in fish, hand over hand, like anything. The nets were actilly ready to break with mackerel, for they were chock full, that's a fact. It was a good sight for sore iiyiif, 1 tell you, to see the poor people c^itchin' dollars that way, for a good haul is like fishin' up money, it's so profitable. — Fact I assure you. ' So,' says I, ' Uncle Gabt: Gab,' says I, ' what a'most grand haul of fish you have.' ' Oil, Mr. Siick! sais he, and he turned up the w.hit(dt' wei'e engaged in eonver.-ation on various lopivs t^iigge.-ted by the moving scene presented by the river. Among other things, he })ointed to the be.iiuif'ul pile of buildings on the opposite side of the Thames, anil eulogised the munilieent provision England hail niado for the inlirniities and old age of those whose lives had been sj)ent in the service of the country. " That palace, Sir," he said, " lor dis- abled sailors, and the other at Chelsea, for decre])id soldiers, s|)len- did as thi^y are, if they were the oidy charitable institutions of Eng- land, might perhaps be said to have had their origin, rather in state policy than national liberality ; but ibrtunately they are onl)^ pai't of an universal svsteni of benevolence here. Turn which way ' ou will, you find Orphan Asylums, iMagdalen IIosj itals, C'hari'y Schools, liedlams, j)laces of refuge for the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the deformed, the (ieslitute, for families reduced by misfortune, and for thos^ whom crime or prolligacy have |)unished with infamy or disease. M^-'or all classes of sulferers charity has jirovided a home, and kindness a inirse, while funds have been liberally bestowed to eni'ouiage talent, and educate, promote, and reward merit./ "The amount of cajjilal, j)ermanently invested and annually sup- plied by voluntary contribution, for those objects, is incredible. What are the peo[)le who have done all this? and whence does it How? They are Christians, Sii'. It is the fruit of their religion; and as no other country in tlie world can exhibit such a noble spec- tacle — so pleasing to Cod, and so instructive and honoi'able to man, it is fair to infer that that religion is better taught, better understood, and better exem[)lilied here than elsewhere, "i'ou shall know a tree by its productions, and this is the glorious fruit of the Church of England. " J^iberals and inlidels may ridicule its connexion with the State, and Dissenters may point to the Uench of Bishops, and ask with ignorant eH'rontery, whether their usefulness is commensurate with their expense. 1 point to their own establishments and say, let their condition and their elfects be your answer. 1 point io Owen and Irvin, whom they imi)iously call their apostles, and v>hile de- clining a comparison, rei)0.-e myself under the shadow of the vene- rabh' hierarchy of tlie Ciuirch. The si)iri's and hospitals and col- leges so dilfu-ely spread over this gri'at country, testily in its bidialf. Tlie great lOpiscopal Cluireh oi' America raises its voice in the de- fence and pi'aise of its parent; and the coloi.ies of the east and the west, and tiie north and the south, and the heal hen everywhere implore the blessing of Cod on a Church, to whose liberality alone they owe the means of grace diey now possess, liut this is not all. "VVileu asked, where do you lind a justilication for this connexion, the SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 'i'I3 n nor give Slick and hia ;iiul luyr-t^U" steel l)y tlic • tliiug^i li^ li side uf llie id had mado d been spent M, " for dis- kliiTS, i^plen- lions of Eng- alher in s^ttite lie only^part liich way : ou tals, CUar.y jaf, ilif dumb, istbrtune, and itU inliuny or ided a borne, y ber^towed to er'.t.y annually sup- is inerediblc. benee does it ibeir religion ; \ IX noble spee- orable to man, ler understood, ill know a tree Lhe Church of with the State, , and ask with inensurale with nd say, let their point' io Owen , and while de- i.w of the vene- ispiuds and eol- ,ity in its behalf, voice in the do- the ea^l and the. leu everywhere liberality alone Lit this is not all. U connexion, the ftiiswer is short and plain, / find it tvrittcn in the character of an £nglhhm ni. AV^ith nil his faults of manner, Squire (and it is Ids manner that is cliielly reprehensible, not his conduct), >how mo a forei_iiiier from any nation in the world, under any other form ol Church ^rovernment, whose character shands so high as an JSuf/lis/i- mitt's. I low much of greatness and goodness — of liberality, and of sterling worth, is conveyed by that one word. And yet, Squire, ' he said, " I would not attribute all the elements of his character to his Church, although all the most valuable ones unquestionably nm.-t be ascribed to it; for some of them are to be traced to the politit5al iii> Btitutions of England. There are three thijigs that mouM and modify national character — lhe religion — the constitution — and the climate of a country./ There are those who murmur against tluur God, and would im[>rm'e their climate if they could, but this is im[)ious; and there are those who would overthrow the altar Jind the throne, iu their reckless thiist for change, and this also is wicked. Avoid tiie contamination of both. " jMay man supi)ort the Church of God as here established, lor il is the best that is known to the human race ; and may God [)reserv(, and prosper the constitution as here formed, for it is the perfection of human wisdom." lie then took up his chair, and placing it directly in front of the open window, rested his head on his hands, and seenuxl to be absorbed in some speculation, lie continued in this slate of abstrac- tion for some time. 1 never disturbed him when 1 saw him in the-o meditating moods, as I knew that he sought them either as a refuge, or as a resource for the supply of conversation. He was soon doomed, however, to be interrupted by Mr. Slick, who, returning with his father at once walked up to him, and, taji- ping him on the shoulder, said, " Come, Minister, what do you say to the white bait now ? I'm getting considerable j)eckish, and feel as if I could tuck it in in good style. A slice of nice brown bread and butter, the white bait fried dry and crisp, jist laid a-top of it, like the naked truth, the leastest mossel in the world of cayenne, and then a squeeze of a lemon, as delicate as the squeeze of a gal's hand in courtiu' time, and lick! it goes down as slick as a rifle-ball; it fairly makes my moulh water! And then arter laying iu a solid foundation oi' that, there's a glass of lignum-vity for mc, a bottle of genuine old eiuer for you and father, and another of champagne for Sqi're and me to to[) olf with, and then a cigar all round, and up killock and olf for London. Come, Minister, what do you say: Wily, what iu airlh ails liini, Squire, that he don't answer? lie's oil' the handle again assure as a gun. Come, Minister," he said, again, tapping him on the shoulder, " won't you rise to my hook, it's got white bait to the eend on't ? *^0h!" said he, "is that you, Sam?" .-T 224 THE ATTACrit; Oil, ^1 i i 'i ; 1 " Sartain," he repHoil, " nt least what's loft of mo. What jiidef the sun have you been a thinkin' on so cverliistin' (loop? I've boon a-standin' talking to you lion; those ten niinits, and I b(\lieve in my Boul, you haven't hcerd one blessed Mord." " I'll tell you, Sam," he said, '* sit down on this chair. Do you sec that ' curling wave ?' behold it how it emerges out of the mass of water, increases as it rolls on, rises to a head, and then curls over, and sinks again into the great Hood from whioh it was forced up, and vanishes from sight forever. That is an emblem of a public man in America;vSoeiety there has no permanency, and therefore wants not only tli^ high polish that the attrition of several generations gives, but one of the greatest stimulants and incentives to action next to religion that we know of — jiridc of name, and the lionor of an old family. /Now don't interrupt me, Sam ; I don't mean to siy that we haveivt polished men, and honorable m<»n, in abundance. I am not a man to undervalue my countrymen ; but then I am net ro weak as you and many others are, as to claim all the advantages of a republic, and deny that we have the unavoidable attendant evils of one. Don't interrupt me. I am now merely stating one of tho eft'ects of j)olitical institutions on eharacter. We have onough to boast of; don't let us claim, all, or we shall have everything dis- puted. With us a low family amasses wealth, and educates its sons ; one of them has talent, and becomes a great public ■' aracter. Ho lives on his patrimony, aiul s})ends it; for, polities with us, though they make a man distinguished, never nuike him rich. He acrpiii'es a great name that becomes known all over America, and is every- where recognized in Europe. He dies and leaves some poor chil- dren, who sink under the surface of society from which he accident- ally arose, and are never more heard of again. Tlie pride of his name is lost after tho first generation, and the authenticity of descent is disputed in the- second. Had our institutions permitted liis perpetuating his name by an entailment of his estate (which tliey do not and cannot allow), he would have preserved his pro- perty during his life, and there would have arisen among his descend- ants, in a few years, the pride of name — that pride which is so anx- ious for the preservation of the jim'ity of its escutcheon, and wdiich generates, in process of time, a high sense of honor. AVe lose by this equality of ours a great stimulant to virtuous actions. Now look at that oak, it is the growth of past ages. Queen Elizabeth looked upon it as we now do. Race after race have behe'd it, and l)as;ed away. They are gone, and most of them are forgotten; but there is that noble tree, so deej) rooted, that storms and tem])ests cannot move it. So strong and so sound, that age$ seem rather to have UiCreased its solidity than impaired its health. "Sl'hat is an em- blem of the hereditary class in England — permanent, useful, and t :t. . SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 225 Wlmt iiidef I ? I've been believe in my air. Do you t of tlie nuiss en curls over, tbre«Ml up, and public man in erelbre wants \\ generations ves to action [ the honor ot* t mean to s\v [ibundance. I n I am nr t ro advantages of ndant evils of ig one of tlio ive enough to very thing di<- eates its sons ; i aracter. Ho ith us, though lie acquires and is every- jme poor chil- li he aocident- a pride of hi3 uthenticity of lons permitted estate (which srved his pro- ijT his descend- lich is so anx- lon, and which "NVe lose by actions. Now een Elizabeth behe'd it, and forgotten; but and tempests seem rather to [.'hat is m em- it, useful, and ornamental ; it graces the land.capc, and allbrds shelter and protec- tion under its umbrageous branches." "And pysons all llie grain onderneath it," said ]\Ir. Slick, "and Ptops (he plough in the furror, and .-"piles the ridgtv, and attracts the lightning, and kills the callle that run under il t'roin the storni.^ "The catlle, Sam," he mildly npli lial)iis ai(! iic('('.''.''arily those of liii-Incs.-'. Tlio wcntluT Is in'iflicr too hot for cxcriion. nor loo co!*! lor exposure, but 8U('h m to n'(iuir" n conitbrtiiblf house, jihiiiKhiiice of liiel, and uarm (•I<»thiii»;. His wants are mirnerons, and liis exertions nuist (:orres|ioiisurt', „t' liirl, and s omf fiiii/"^' [.. You liiive ik'!'i'rv«'.s the in \\\v puMio 111 to know all .) iTU't'l hid ac- liinivte is Mich is clitap, and ) ([vo>ri it ; hut ncci'St^arioa of ) much lor cli- lunt, a limited an wisdom has ever coiij^pii^d dom ; vvhcrcj it • here (noiwith- n what is iound tU'lcgato to the hi'lil lor liti", in miiales in four Mil vc: embles a ixr»; constantly K'tually issuing. ;, thou'gli differ- j'.xy distinguish- le legislature ij ' iilike Ibr the.' lormous wealth, ,c opinion of the rious orders of [but it is freely, lort of necessary led by the State, criven the name [i!^__the Chureh 1 to you, but it is insiruction, for haraeter.Xllere, Id here is a reg- ular well-defined gradation of rank, from the sovprelgn on the throtui to the countiy >t|iiire ; known to all, acknowledged by all, and ap- jiroved by uil.'^/rhis polilicul stability tieecssarily imparts stubiliiy to the eliaraei( I , and the court and the peerage naturally infus'; through .-(>('iel\, i)y the unavoidublt! inlhieiic*' ot" the inodel.s they [ire- sent, a high .-en>(! of honor, elegance of manner.-', and great di;{ni;} of ciiaraeter and eonductc An Knglish gentleman, therefore, is kun and con.sidi'iute to his inl'eriors, allable to his etpials, and ivspeetfu (not obs«.(iui(jus, lor servility belongs to an absolute, and not a limit- ed monareliy, and is begotten of power, not of right) to his superior". \ "What is the case wliere there are no superiors and no inferiors^' "^^Where all strive to be first and none! are admittcil to be so; where llie law, in direct opposition to all nature, has declared those to be equal who are as unequal in their talents as they arc in their pecu- niary means? Jn such a case the tone may be called imjiversj^ onf, but what must the average of the masses be in intelligence, in mo- rals, in civilization? tcylse another mercantile phrase, it must ine\- itably be * U-low par.'/ All these things are elements in the fonm:- lion of cIiaracteT, "wliether national or individual. There is great manliness, great sincerity, great integrity, and u great sense of pro- priety in Kngland, arising from the causes I have enumerated. One extraordinary proof of the wholesome state of the public mind here is, the condition of the press. " By the law of the land, the liberty of the press is here secured to the subject. He has a right to use it, he is puni.shablc only for its abuse. You would naturally suppose, that the same liberty of the press in England and America, or in Great liritain and Russia, would produce the siuui effect, but this is by no means tl»c case. Here it is safe, but no where else, not even in the Colonies. NJIore a Court, an Kstablished Church, a peerage, an aristocracy, a gentry, a large aimy ond" navy, and last, though not least, an intelligent, moral, and highly respectable middle class, all uniteil by one conni»n interest, though they have severally a distinct sphere, and are mori or less connected by ties of various kinds, constitute so large, so pow- erful, and so influential a body, that the [U'ess is restrained. It inv.y talk boldly, but it cannot talk licentiously ; it may talk freelv, but not seditiously. 21ie good feeling of the country is hio hI rang/ Thv law of itself is everywhere unecjual to the ta.-^k. There are some liberal j)apers of a most demoralizing character, but they are the ex- ceptions tliat serve to show how safe it is to entrust Englishmen with this most valuable but most dangerous engine. In France the^e checks, though nominally the same, scarcely exist. To the great body of the people a diHerent tone is acceptable. The hud feeling of the coiuUry is too strong. " In the United States and in the Colonies these checks are also •vawting. Here a newspaper is often a joint-stock property. If ia w £28 TUE ATTACHE', Ok, f? f y I worth thousands of pounclis. It is edited by men of collegiate edii cation' and first rate talents. It soraetimes rejects, and si^ometimes acts, upon the opinions of the higher clasi-^es. To aceonipli.>h this, its tone must he equal, and its ability, if possible, superior to that of its patrons. \In Americjf, a bunch of quills and a ])a])er, with the promise of a grocer to give his advertisements for insertion, is all that is necessary to start a newspaper upon. The checks I havo spoken of are wanting./ This I know to be the case with us, and I :\m certain your experience of colonial alfuii's will conlirm my asser- tion that it is the case in the provinces also. Take up almost any (I won't say all, because that would be a gross libel on both my country and yours) ; but take up almost any transatlantic newspaper, and how much of personality, of imputation, of insolence, of agita- tion, of [)andering to bad passions, is there to regret in it ? The good feeling of ihe coxmtry is not strong enough for it. Here it is safe. With us it is safer than in any other place perhaps, but from a totally different cause — from the enormous number that are published, which limits the circulation of each, distracts rather than directs opinion, and renders unity of design as well as unity of action impos- sible. Where a fcAV papers are the organs of the public, the public makes itself heard and understood. Where thousands are claiming attention at the same time, all are confounded, and in a manner dis- regarded. But to leave illustrations. Squire, which are endless, let us consider the effect of religion in the formation of character. "The Christian religion is essentially the same everywhere ; but the form of Church government, and the persons by whom tt is ad- mini.-{en;d, modify national character in a manner altogether in- credible to those who have not traced these tilings up to their source and down to theii" consequences. Now, it will startle you no doubt when I say, only tell me the class of persons that the clergy of a country are taken from, and I will tell you at once the stage of re- finement it is in. "In England the clergy are taken from tlie gentry, some few from the nobility, and some few from the humbler walks of life, but mainly from the gentry.'*** The clergy of the Church of England are gentle- men mid scholars. ^^ What an immense advantage that is to u coun- try ! What an element it fi^rms in the refinement of a nation ! wheo a high sense of honor is superadded to the obligation of religion France, bef^-^'e the Revolution, had a most learned and accomplished clergy of gentry, and the high state of civilization of the people tes- tified to their influence. In the Revolution the altar was overturned with the throne — the priesthood was dispersed, and society received its tone from a plebeian army. What a change has since come over the nation. It assumed an entirely new eharueler. Some little im- provement has taken place of hUe; but years must pass away. before France can recover the loss it sustained in the loui'-contiuued uJ'- SAM SLICK 'N ENGLANf). 225f Iloglate cdu i i-ometimed omlJli^ll thi^, or to that of )or, with tho sertion, is all hecks I havG ith us, luid I rm my ass«'i- p almost any on both my ic newspaper, nee, of agita- it ? The good ^re it is safe, from a totally .re publis^lied, • than divcets ' action impo?- )lic, the public s are claiming a manner dis- ire endless, let laracter. jirywhere ; hut >vhom tt is ad- altogether in- to their source 13 you no doubt ihc clergy of a he stage of re- some few from life, hut mainly laud are gentle- at is to a coun- a nation I w hep ion of religion d accomplished the people tes- was overturned society received i'mvii come over Some little im- ass away.beibrc lir-contiuued al>- seno.e of its amiable ani' our poor old forefathers, and your wholesale Kelbrr.ier.s the rapacity of might. What is the result? Such a moral, social, and political state, as nothing but the goodness of God could Iiuve conferred u{)on the people in reward f(»r their many vir- tues. With such a climate — such a constitution, and such a church, is it any wonder that the national character stands so high that, to insure res])ect in any part of the world, it is only necessary to say, * I am an Englishman.' " CHAPTER XXXIX. i i ! THE PULPIT AND THE PRESS. It was late when we returned to London, and Mr. Hopewell and \ olonel Slick being both fatigued, re'.ired almost immediately for the aight. "Smart man, Minister," said the Attache, " ain't he? You say smart, don't you ? for they use words very odd here, and then fancy it is us talk strange, because we use them as they be. I met Lady Charlotte West to-day, and saisi, 'I am delighted to hear your mother has grown so clever lately.' ' Clever ?' sais she, and she colored up like anythin', for the old lady, the duchess, is one of the biggest noodles in all England — 'clever. Sir?' 'Yes,' sais I, 'I heerd she was layhC all last week, and is a-settln^ now.' Oh, Soli- man ! how mad she looked. ' Layin' and settin'. Sir? I don't un- derstand you.' * Why,' sais I, ' 1 heerd she kept her bed last week, but is so much better now, she sot up yesterday and drove out to- day.' 'Oil! better?' sais she, 'now I understand, oh yes! thank you, she is a great deal better:' and she looked as chipper as pos- gible, seein' that I warn't a jiokin' fun at her. I guess I used them words wrong, but one good thing is, she won't tell the story, 1 know, for old marm's sake. 1 don't know whether smart is the word or no, but clever, I suppose, is. " Well, he's a clever old man, old Minister, too, ain't he ? That talk of hia'n about the curling wave and national character, to-day, is about the best I've heern of his since you come back agin. Tht worst of it is, he carries things a leetle too far. A man that diver so deep into things is apt to touch bottom sometimes with his head, stir the mud, and rile the water so, he can hardly see his way out ay alike be result of all ladioals the r wliole-ale ,t? Such a nes? of God r many vir- L'h a church, high that, to ssary to say, tlopewell and Jiately tor the e? You say nd then fancy I met Lady |to hear your she, and she is one of the iS,' sais I, ' I Lv.' Oh, Soli- P 1 don't un- led last week, Idrove out to- ll yes! thank [upper as pos- is 1 used them |Story, 1 know, the word or \\ he? That Iracter, to-day, Ick agin. The lan that diver I with his head, his way ou« SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 231 himself, much less show others thd road. I guess he went a leetle too low that lime, and touched th« sediment, I'or I don't 'xactly see that all that follows i'roni" his pn'»?//s('.- at all. Still he is a Look, and what he says ahout the pulpit and the press i.i true enough, that's a fact. Their influence beats all natur'. The first time I canu! to I^ngland was in one of our s})!('ndiil liners. There was a con>iderable number of passengei-s on board, and among (hi'm two outlandish, awkward, ongainly looking fellers, from Tammer Squat- ter, in the State o' Maine. One on 'em was a preacher, and the other a literar}' gentleman, that published a newspaper. They was always together a'most like two oxen in a pai'stur, that are used to be worked together. Where one was t' other warn't never at no great distance. They had the longest necks and the longest legs of any fellers 1 ever see — reg'lar cranes. Swaller a frog whole at a gulp, and bein' temperance chaps, would drink cold water enough arter for him to swim in. The preacher had a rusty suit oi" black on, that had grown brown by way of a change. His coat had been made by a Tannner Squatter tailor, that carried the fashions there forty years ago, and stuck to 'em ever since. The waist was up atween the shoulders, and the tails short like a boy's jacket; his trousers was most too tight to sit down cnnilbrtable, and as they had no straps, they wriggled, and wrinkled, and worked a'most up to his knees. Onderneath were a pair of water-proof boots, big enough to wade across a lake in a'most. His white cravat looked as yaller a? if he'd kept it in the smoke-house where he cured his hams. His hat was a yaller white, too, enormous high in the crown, and enormous short in the rim, and the nap as close fed down as a ?heep pastur' — you couldn't pull enough off to clot your chin, if you liad scratched it in shavi'i'. Walkin' so much in the woods in narrow paths, he had what we call the surveyor's gait; half on him went lirst to clear the w.ay thro' the bushes for t' other half to follow — his knees and his shoulders bein' the best part of a yard before him. If he warn't a droll boy it's a pity. When he warn't a talkin' to the editor, he was walkin' the deck and studyin' a book for dear life, Sometimes a lookin' at it, and then holdin' it down and repeatin', and then lookin' agin for a word that had slipt thro' his fingers. Con- found him, he was always runnin' agin me, most knockin' me down ; so at last, ' stranger,' sais I, 'you always talk when you sit, and always read when you walk ; now jist revarse the thing, and make use of your eyes, or some of them days you'll break your nose.' '1 thank you for the hint, Mr. Slick,' sais he, ' TH lake your advice.' *Mr. Slick,' sais I, 'why, how do you know me?' 'Oh,' sais he, ' everybody knows you, I was told when 1 came on board you was the man that wrote the Cloeknuiker, and a very eiUc book it is too; a great deal of human natur' in it. Come, s'l o.-:e we sit d(>wn and talk a leetle.' Sais I, ♦ that must be an entertuiniu' book you arq ■.' J^J^'t*'*' 232 THE ATT ACHE ; OR, I 'I': It ' , a-rc!idlii' of — what i^ it ?' ' Wli v,' sais lie, ' it's a Ilcbrow Gram« mar.' ' A ri<*bre\v Grammar,' sais I, ' wlij wliat on nirth do you ]arn Hebrew for?' Says bo, 'I'm a-;jjoin' to tbo Holy Laiid for llie saiie of my boahh, and I want to birn a Icetlo nf their <2;ibberish atbre I go.* ' Pray,' nais I, ''xcuso me, Ptiangcr, but what line are you in?' 'I'm,' sais bo, 'a loader of llie Christian band at Tammer Squatter.' ' Can you phiy the key bugle ?' fais I, * I have one here, and it sounds grand in the open air; it's loud enough to give a pole- cat the ague. What instruments do you play on ? Oli, lord !' sais I, ' kit's have the gals on deek, and get up a dance. Have you a fiddle?' 'Oh,' sais be, 'Mr. Slick, don't bamm, I'm a minister.' ' Well, why the plague didn't you say so,' sais I, 'for I actilly mis- understood you, 1 did indeed. I know they have a black band at Boston, and a capital one it is too, for they have most excellent ears for nuisic has tbose niggers, but thon they pyson a room so, you can't set in it for five minutes ; and they have a white band, and they are Chi istians, which them oncircumcised imps of darkness ain't ; and I swear to man, I thought you meant you was a leader of one of those white Christian band?.' ' Well,' sais he, ' I used that word leader because it's a humble word, and I am a humble man ; but minister is better, 'cause it ain't open to such a droll mistake as that.' He then up and told me he was in delicate health, and the Tammer Squatter ladies of bis congregation had subscribed two thousand dollars for him to take a tower to Holy Land, and then lectui'in' on it next winter for them. ' Oh !' sais I, ' I see you prefer bein' paid for cnission better than a mission.' 'Well,' says he, ' we airn it, and woi'k av ful hard. The other day as I passed thro' Bosting, the reverend Mr. Funnyeye sais to me-x-Hosia, sais he, I envy you your visit. 1 wish I could get up a case for the women too, for they would do it for me in a rainnit ; but the devil of it is, sais he, I have a most ungodly appetite, and am so distressin' well, and look so horrid healthy, I am afeerd it won't go down. Do give me a receipt for lookin' pale. — Go to Tammer Squatter, sais I, and do my work in my absence, and see if the women won't work ^'ou ofi' your legs in no time; women haven't no niarcy on bosses and preachers. They keep 'em a goin' day and night, and think they can't drive 'em fast enough. In hong winter nights, away back in the country there, they ain't content if they havn't strong hyson tea, and preachin' every night ; and no mortal man can stand it, unless his lungs was as strong as a blacksmith's bellows is. They ain't stingy though, I tell you^ they pay down handsome, go the wliole figur', and do the thing genteel. Two thousand dollars is a pretty little sum, ain't it? and I needn't come back till it's gone. Back-wood preachin' is bard vork, but it pays well if there ain't too many feediii' in the same pastur'. \There ain't no profession a'raost in all oar country that gives so much power, and so much influence as preachin.' A SAM SLICK I>7 EXGLAI;D. 288 row Gram" lirth do you [.and for the ir <:;ll)beri?h iuit line are . at Tammer ,vo one here, give a pole- ih, lord !' sais Have you a a minister.' I actilly mis- lack band at !xcellent ears I so, you can't and they are s ain't ; and I f one of those word leader ; but minister as that.' He 1 the Tammer two thousand ir\ lecturin' on sfer bein' paid , « we nirn it, y Bosting, the Mivy you your too, for they ;ais he, I have 1, and look so e me a receipt d do my work \ oil' your legs md preachers, [jan't drive 'cm country there, and preach in' his lungs was iiigy though, I figur', and do little sum, ain't wood preachin' y fecdin' in the II our country preachin.' A jwp'lar preacher can do anything, especially if he is wise enough to be a comfort, and not a caution to sinners.'^.' " Weil, the Editor looked like a twin-brother. lie wore a long loose brown great-coat, that hung down to his heels. Once on a time it had to moimt guard over an under-coat ; now it was pro- moted. His trowsers was black, and shined in the sun as if they had been polished by mistake for his boots. They was a h^etle of the shortest, too, and show'd the rim of a pair of red flannel drawers, tied with white tape, and a pair of thunder and lightning socks. He wore no shoes, but only a pair of Indi.an Rubbers, that was too big for him, and every time he took a step, it made two beats, one for the rubber, and the other for the foot, so that it sounded like a four- footed beast. " They were wha})pcrs, you may depend. They actilly looked like young canoes. Every now and then he'd slip on the Avet deck, pull his foot out of the rubber, and then hop on one leg to t'other Bide, 'till it was ])icked up and handed to him. His shirt collar nearly reached his ear, and a black stock buckled tight round his throat, made his long neck look as if it had outgrown its strength, and would go into a decline, if it didn't fill out as it grew older. When he was in the cabin he had the table covered with long strips of printed paper that looked like columns eut out of nevvspa{)ers. He, too, had got on a mission. He was a delegate from the Tammer Squatter Anti-Slavery Society that had subscribed to send him to attend the general meetin' to London. He was full of im[)ortance, and generally s..<: armed with two steel pens ; one in his hand, for use, and another aiwecn his ear and his head, to relieve guard when the other was ofl' duty. He was a composin' of his speech. He would fold his arms, throw himself back in his chair, look intently at the ceiling, and then suddenly, as if he had caught an idea by the tail, bend down and write as fast as possible, until he had I'ecorded it for ever. Then, relapsin' again into a brown study, he would hum a tune until another bright thought again appeu'ed, when he'd pounce upon ji lihe a cat, and secure it. If he didn make faces, it's a j)ity, workin' his lips, twitchin' his face, winkin' his eye, lightin* up his brows, and wrinklin' his forehead, awful. It must be shock- ing hard work to writ ■ I tell you, if all folks have such a time on it as he had. At last, he got his si)eech done, for he ginn over writin', and said he 1 ad made up his mind. He supposed it would cost the Union the loss of the Southern States, but duty must be done. Tammer Squatter was not to be put down and terrified by any power on airth. One day, as I was a laying on the seats, taking a stretch ibr it, 1 heerd hiin say to the Preacher, ' You have not done your duty. Sir. The Pulpit has left abolition to the Press. The Press is equal to it, Sir ; but, of course, it will require longer time to do it in. They should have gone together, Sir, in the great ! I 284 THE ATTACIlii;; OR, cause. I sliali tell the Christian ministry in my speech, thoy havo not sounded the ainrm as t:\iihiiil sentinel.''. I suppose it will bring fill the eliurelies of tlu; Union on me, but the Press is able to bear it alone. It's unfair, iho', Sir, and you don't know your power. \ Tiie Pulpit and the Press can move the world. That, Sir, is the Archi- medean lever.* The criftur was right, Squire, it' two such gonies ihj, them could talk it into 'em, and write it into 'em, at such an out- landish i)lace as Tammer Sfjuatter, that never would have been lieerd of to the sea-board, if it hadn't a-been the boundary question made it talked of; and one on 'em got sent to Holy Land, 'cause he guessed he looked pale, nnd know'd he felt lazy, and t'other sent to liave a lark to London, on a business all the world knows London hante got nolhin' to do with : I say then, there can't be better^roof of the power of the Puljtit and the Press than that, \lnfluence is one thing, and power another. InfliR'nce is nothin', any man can get votes; with us, we give them away, ibr they ain't worth sellin'. But power is shown in mnkin' folks shell out their money ; and more nor half the subscriptions in the world are preached out of folks, or ' pressed' out of 'em — that's a fact. I wi>h they would go in harness together always, ibr we couldn't do without cither on them ; but the misfortune is, that the Pidpit, in a gineral way, pulls agin' the Press, and if ever it succeeds, the world, like, old Pome, will be all in darkness, and bigotry and superstition will cover the land. \ Without the Pulpit, we should be heathens; without the Press, we should be slaves./ It becomes us Protestants, to support one, and to protect the other. Yes! they are great engines, are the Pulpit and the Press." 1 .' I 11 ■; CHAPTER XL. WATERLOO AND BUNKER-HILL. As soon as breakfast was over this morning, Colonel Slick left the Louse, as usual alone. Ever since his arrival in London, his con- duct has been most eccentric. He never informs his son where he is going, and very seldom alludes to the business that induced him to come to England, and when he does, he studiously avoids any explanation. I noticcnl the distress of the Attache, who evidently fears that he is deranged; and to divert his mind from such a jjain- ful subject of conversation, asked him if he had not been in Ireland during my absence. " Ah," said he, " you must go to Ireland, Squire. It is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, — few people see it, because ^■cl agi it d all But it. tlie C()U( Go iukU ileec slow SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. jh, they havo ! it will bi'ing .blc to bear it power. \ The istlic Arclii- ;iK'l» gonics as t SlU'h ill! out- la have been dury question and, 'cause he t'other sent to aiows London (> bettern)root' . \lniiuonce is any man can [ worlh sellin'. r money ; and •(>aehed out of tlicy would go liout cither on icral way, pulls like old Uome, will cover Iho ri; without the ants, to support engines, are the LL. :el Slick left the ondon, his con- ns son where he hat induced him u^ly avoids any wlio evidently om such a pain- been in Ireland It is one of the le see it, because 235 they fear it. I don't speak of the people, for agitation ha=! ruined flieni ; hut I speak of tlu^ faeo of natur', for that is the work of God. It is splendid — that's a fact. Tiu.'rc is moro water there; than in I'lnjrland, and, of course, more light in the landscape. Its filatures ari! bolder, and, of course, more picturesque. Oh, you must see Killaniey, — we haven't nothin' to compare to it. Tli(i S(!(jtch lake.^ aiu't iit, to bo named on the sanni day with it, — our'n an; longer and broadi'i", and deeper and bigger, and everything but pretti(!r. I don't think there is nothin' equal to it. Loch Katrein and Loch Lomond have been bedeviled by poets, who have dragged all the woi Id there to disapj)oint '''in, and iblks come away as mad as hatters at bein' made fools of, when, iithey had been let alone, they'd a-lied as bad perhaps as the poets have, and ov(!rt)raised tliem themselves most likely. If you want a son not to fall in love with any splenderiferous gall, prais(; her up to the skiers, call her an angel, say she is a whole team and a horse to spare, and all that: tiie moment the ('rittur sees lier, he is a little grain di-- -pointed, and ,-ays, ' Weil, she is handsome, tliat's a fact, but she is not so veri/, vv/v/everlastin' [)retty arter all.' 'JMien, lie criticises her : — ' Her foot is too thick in the iii-fep — her elbow bone is sliarp — she rouges — is atl'ected, and so on ;' and the more; you op- pose liim, the more lie abuses Iier, till he swears sl:(! is misreported, and iiin't handsome at all; — say noihin' to him, and he is spooney over head and ears in a miiuile ; lu; sees all heaiUies and no deliicts, and is for walkin' into her affections at oncet. Noihin' damages a gall, a preacher, or a lake, like over-praise ; a ho >1 >U'.i • lie smilod pretty ! ho don't look so fierce as you'd pncsa that mi old hero would. It's only ensij^ns do that, to look bip;. 'Then; are more in the hi;j;h eircles he moves in,' sais the (iincral smilin', Miian you would suppose.' ' 'I'liere moiijjjht he,' siiis 1, ' hut I don't nee none on 'em, ibr llu^ hiirh circles are all hij; .<(iuares here, and the ]iastur's are all built over, every inch on *em, with stone and hiick I wonder if I could <^et some; of the calves, they would improve thy breed to Sliekville aniazinjily. Sam sent me a Bedford pig, last year, and raelly it was a sight to behold ; small bone, thick j'int, short neck, broad on the back, heavy on the ham, and took next to nothin to feed him, nother ; I sold the young ones for twenty dollars a-piece, I did upon my soul, fact, 1 assure you, not a word of a lie in it. *•' Well, well,' says I, ' only think, that J, a hero of Bunker Hill, should have lived to see tlie hero of Waterloo. I wish you \vould shake hands along with me, GinenU, it will be somethin to brag of, I can tell you ; it will show our folks you have forgiven us.' ' For- given you ?' said he, lookin' puzzled. ' Yea,' says 1, 'forgiven us for the almighty everlastin' whi[)pin* we give you in the Revolutionary war.' ' ()li !' said he, smilin' again, ' now I understand — oh ! quite forgiven, 1 assure you,' sais he, ' (juite.' ' That's noble,' sais I, * none but a brave man forgives — a coward, Gineral, never does ; a brave man knows no fear, and is above all revenge. That's very noble of you, it shows the great man and the hero. It was a tre- mendous light ihat, at Bunker IJill. We allowed the British to come on till we seed the whites of their eyes, and then we let 'em have it. Heaven and airth ! what capers the first rank cut, jumpin', rearin', plungin', staggerin', falliu' ; then, afore they formed afresh, we laid it into 'em agin and agin, till they lay in winrows like. P'raps nothin' was ever seen done so beautiful in this blessed world of our'n. There was a doctor from Boston commanded us, and he was unfor- tunately killed there. Tho' it's an ill wind that don't blow some- body good ; if the doctor hadn't got his flint fixed there, p'raps you'd never a-heerd of AVashington. But I needn't tell you, in course you know all about Bunker Hill ; every one has heerd tell of that sacred spot.' 'Bunker Hill! Bunker Hill!' sais the Gineral, pre- tendin' to roll up.his eyes. Bunker Hill? — I think I, have — where is it ?' ' Wherfe is it, eh ?' sais I. ' So you never heerd tell of Bun- ker Hill, eh? and p'raps you never heerd tell of Lexington, nother ?' ' Why,' sais he, ' to tell you the truth. Colonel Slick, the life I have led has been one of such activity, I have had no time to look into a lexicon since I give up schoolin', and my Greek is rather rusty I confess.' Why, damnation ! man,' sais 1, 'Lexington ain't in any of them Greek rei)ublics at all, but in our own everlastin' almighty oiie.' - P'raps you mean Vinegar Hill,' sais he, ' where the rebels fought, in Ireland ? It is near Inniscorthy. ' Vinegar devil,' says I, for I began to get vvrathy ibr to come for to go tor to perteud that way* mi: mil (hi my SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND. 239 >ps til! it tt" old «Thorc are , ?milin', ' tlum ut I iloirt t^ce here, and the one and luick Ul improve lli« ,li.ij?,li^^tyear. I'int, short neck, xt to nothiu to dollars a-piece, of Bunker llili» ,vish you Mould .etUin to bra;? ot, iveu us. For- HV.H •-■ - ' tbrf^ivon urf tor 'le Uirvolutionary itand— oh 1 quite s noble,' sais 1, U, never does ; a ;„Q. That's very ■o. It was a tre- ed the Briti:«h to il then we let 'em , nmkeutjumpm, ey formed atre^h, vows like, rrn^ Led world of our n. [and he was unibr- don't blow some- there, p'raps you d ell you, in eourse heerd tell ot that the Gineral, pre- I I have— where 13 Iheerd tell of Bun- ,exington,uother!' ick, the lite I have [time to look into d : is rather rusty i ton ain't in any ot^ ,lin' aimiglity one. the rebels tought, ievil,' says I, tor 1 pertend that way. I don't woTidor it is sour to you, and tlin Vinofjar has made your memory a little nioth(;ry. No, it ain't in Ireland at all. but ni Mas- sachusetts, ?u'ar Boston.' ' Oli, 1 !)('<>; yoiw pardon,' he sjiis, 'Oh, yes! 1 (It) iccollect now; Oh yes! the Americans f()u;^ht well there, very well indeed.* ' Well, Sir,' .*ais I, ' I w- s in that great and glo- rions battle; 1 am near about tin; sole survivor — the only one to tell the tale. I am the only man, I jjuess, that ean say, — I have seed Waterloo and Bunker Hill — Wellinfrton and Washin^^ton. (I put them too Ibrrard first, tho' our'n wa-; lirst in time and first in renown, for true j)olileness always says to the stranger, after you, Sir, is man- ners.) And I connt it a great privilege too, I do indeed, Gineral. I heerd of you afore I come liere, I can tell you ; your name is well known to Sllckville, I assure you.' 'Oh, I feel quite flattered!' said Du^e. ' Sam has made you known, I can assure you. Indeed,* t;ais he, smilin', f there ain't nothin' ferocious about thafTtnan, I can tell you^, ' I am very much indebted to your son.' lie did upon my soul, them were his very words, ' 1 am very much indebted to your son ' I hope I may be darned to darnation if he didn't, ' very much indebted,' he said. 'Not at all,' sais I, 'Sam would do that, and twice as much for you any day. He writes to my dai-tcr all his sayin's and (' nn's, and I am proud to sec you and he are i-o thick, you will find iiim a very cute man, and if you want a boss, Sam is your man. You've heern tell of Doctor Ivory Ilovey, Gineral, hante you, the tooth-doctor of Sllckville ?' ' No,' sais he, ' no!' ' Not hear of Doctor Ivory Hovey, of Slickville?' sais I. 'No; I never heern of him,' he sais. ' Well, that's strange too,' sais I, ' I thought everybody had heerd tell of him. Well, you've sartainly heern of Deacon Westfall, him that made that grand spec at Alligator's Lick?' ' 1 might,' sais he, ' but I do not recollect.' ' Well, that's 'cussed odd,' sais I, ' for both on 'em have heern of you and Waterloo too, but then we are an enlightened peo[)le. Well, they arc counted the best judges of hoss-flesh in our country, but they both knock under to Sam. Yes ! if you want a boss, ax Sam, and he'll pick you out one for my sake, that won't stumble, as your'n did t'other day, and nearly broke your neck. Washington was fond of a boss ; 1 sup- pose you never seed him ? you mought, for you are no chicken now in age — but I guess not. 'I never had that'honor,' he said. He said 'honor,' he did upon my soul. Heroes are never jealous; it's only mean, low-spirited scoundrels that are jealous. ' 1 never had that honor,' he said. "Nov/ 1 nuist say I feel kinder proud to hear the fust man in the age call it an ' honor' jist to have seed him — lor it's an honor, and no mistake : but it ain't every one, especially a Britisher, that is high- minded enough to say so. But Wellington is a military man, and that makes the hero, the statesman, and the gentleman — it does, upon my soul. Yes, I feel kinder proud, I tell you. 'Well,* sais I, t4 j-t-za-"".' "-^ I'y^-ul. „„«,„. ' I' 240 THE ATTACH^; on, ' WuHhington was fond of n liosx, and I'll tell you wlint Gineral Lin- coln told nic that lie heard Washington .«ay himself wilh his own lips — Show nui a man that is fond of a hos'f', and I'll show you tho makins of a jjood dia^roon. "•Now, Satn always was fond of one from a boy. lie is a judge, and no mistake, he eaps all, that's a fact. Have you ever slept with him (iineral?' sais I. ' What, Sir?' said he. * Ilave you ever slept with him ?' says I. ' I have nev — ,' " *' Oh, heavens and airth ! ' said his son ; " surely, father, you didn't 8ay tiiat to iiim, did you ?" And then turning to me he said in a most melancholy tone, " Oh, Squire, Squire, ain't this too bad ? I'm a ruined man, I'm a gone sucker, I am up a tree, you may depend. Creation ! only think of his saying that, I shall never hear the last of it. Dickens will hear of it; II. li. will hear of it, and there will be a cai'icature, * Have you slept with him, Gineral?" "Speaka little louder," said the Colonel, " I don't hear you." " I was a sayin', Sir," said the Attache, raising his voice; '1 lio])ed to heavens you hadn't said that." "Said it! to be sure I did, and what do you think he answered? I never had that honor. Sir,' he oaid, a-drawin' himself up, and lookin' proud-like, as if he felt hurt you hadn't axed him — he did, upon my soul ! ' I never had tliat honor,' he said. So you see where you stand, Sam, letter A, No. 1, you do, indeed. '1 never had the /lonor, Sir, to see Washington. I never had the honor to slee{) with Sam.' Don't be skeered, boy, your fortin is made. I thought you might have bragged and a-boasted a leetle in your let- ters, but I now see I was mistakened. I had no notion you stood so high, I feel quite proud of your ^oosition in society. " ' As for the honor,' sais I, ' Gineral, it will be all the other way, though tl'.e advantage will be mutual, for he can explain Oregon ter- ritory, riglit of sarch. free trade, and them thmgs, better nor you'd s'pose ; and now,' sais I, * I must be a-movin', Duke, for I guess din- ner is waitin', but I am happy to see you. If ever you come to Slickville, I will receive you with all due military honors, at thO| head of our Volunteer Corps, and show you the boys the Bunker Hill heroes have left behind 'em, to defend the glorious country they] won for 'era with the sword. Good-bye, good-bye. I count it great privilege to have seed you,' and I bowed myself out. He is great man, Sam, a very great man. He has the same composed, quiet look, W^ashington had, and all real heroes have. I guess hi is a great man all tli rough the piece, but I was very sorry to heai you hadn't, slept with him — very sorry indeed. You might sarvi our great nation, and raise yourself by it too. Daniel Webster slepi with the President all the time he was to Sliekville, and he madj y him Secretary of State ; and Deacon Westfall slept with Van Burti at Alligator's Lick, and talked him over to make him Postouist SAM M.'.tK IN- F.NOIiAM). 241 M L^ou wl»nt Gmeral Lm- l.imself >vitU his own , luid I'll show you tho ft boy. lie '•» a jmli^e, ave you ever sU'i.t wUh * liave you ever slept ,uvcly, father, you d'*:!"'^ U,.r to me he sftid m a ;;;;;.t thi. too baa? rm t,e,. you may depend. ;haU nlver hear the la. .ear of it, and there will >, Ginerair " Speaka ir you " " 1 was a sayui , 1 hoped to heavens you YOU think he answered? irawin' himself up, and Uucln't axed hnn-he did^ ,r'he said. So you feeo Uu do, indeed. '1 never [ never had the honor to vour fortin is made. 1 jited a leetlc in your let- Had no notion you stood 1 in soeiety. will be all the other way, .ecan explain Oregon ter-^ Ktlnngs. better nor you d '^n' Duke, for I guess dm- yoJ. If ever you come to ie military l^«;y>^^' ^^^^ vou the boys the BunKeii IdrheglorioUountrytheyJ e, good-bye. I count t a^ bovved myself out. He i^J fe has the same composed ^ heroes have. I guess hj It 1 >vas very sorry to hea indeed. Tou might sarv 00 Daniel Webster sleij to Slickville, and he mad :XlUlept with Van Bunj ; to mixke him Fosimastd Gcnoml. Oh! ihe n',s party, pais you, ' CiiiH'ial,' sals you, 'as tlicn^ is no Miss Wellington, your wile, now liviii', I'll Ji-it turn in with you to-night, and discuss naiioiuil mutters, if yon ain't sleepy.' " " Aiiili ami .•»eus !" said the Altm*lie tome, ** did ever any one lioai (he beat of thai? Oh dear, dear! what will folks say to this pool dear old niuii ? I f«'el very njily, I vho was as proud as Lucifer, understood the hint at oncet, and was hockin' vext, but she wouldn't let on she cared to go with me, and that it was young Sqt 've Slick she wanted to see, and not the ducks. ' So,' she sais, ' I was a thinkin' so too, Ma, for my part, I can't see what pleasure there can be setlin' for hours shiverin' under a wet bush jist to shoot a duck. I shan't go no more.* Well, next mornin* arter this talk, jist as I was ready to start away, down comes Lucy to the keepin'-room, with both arms behind her head a-lixin' of the hooks and eyes. *Man alive,* sais she, 'are you here }et, I thought you was off guiinin' an hour ago; who'd a thought you was here?' ' Gunnin ?' says I, ' Lucy, my gunnin' is ever, I shan't go no more iiow, I shall go home ; 1 agree with you ; ^.'liverin' alone under a wet bush lor hours is no fun ; but if Lucy was there' ' Get out,' .sais she, 'don't talk nonsense, Sam, and just lasten the upper hook and eye of my frock, will you ?' She tuiued round her back to me. Wei!, 1 look tlie houk in one hand and the eye in the other; but iur;h and seas 1 my eyes fairly snapped agin ; 1 never see such a neck since 1 was raided. It sprung right tat o' the breast and thoulder. full and round, and then tapeied up to the head like a swan's, and the complexion would beat the most delicaie white and red rose that ever was seen. Lick, it made me all eyes !. I jist stood stock still, J ''ouldu't mcve a linger if I was to die lor it. ' What SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 243 ur (lays at a , the Squire ^e.iutilul cril- dn't ditto her r your breath course, 1 was feedin' tirnes, 0, but say she vould j2;o with of three dif- in the spruce which made Marm Foley )sarved when- we did notliin' t half like this ,' sais she (and lateral to 'em), lo more. The bushes is wet, ,er, on your fa- ir death a-cold, )ne that knows i-ds yet.' Lucy, oncet, and was ro with me, and i not the ducks, art, I can't see •in' under a wet ;ll, next mornin* rt-n comes Lucy d a-iixin' of the i-e ) et, 1 tliought you was here ?' m't go no more [ alone under a e' ' Get out,' the upper hock her back to me. I the other; but lever see such a the breast and the liead like a :ilicaie white and L'yesI.I jiststood ails you, Sam,' sals she, ' that you don't hook it ?' * Why,' says T, ' Lucy dear, my fingers is all thumbs, that's a fact, I can't handle such little things as last as you can.' * Wtill, come,' sais she, ' make haste, that's a dear, mother will be a-corain' dircictly ;' and at last 1 shot to«^ both my eyes, and fastened it, and when I had done, sais I, * there is one thing I must say, Lucy.' 'What's that?' sais she. 'That you may stump all Connecticut to show such an angeliferous neck as you have — 1 never saw the beat of it in all my born days — it's the most' ' And you may stump the State, too,' sais she, ' to produce such another bold, forward, impedent, onmannerly, tongue as you have, — so there now — so get along with you.' — 'Well, sais I, ' if ' tor it. What " ' Hold your tongue,' sais she, ' this moment, or I'll go right out of the room now.' ' Well,' sais I, ' now 1 am mad, for I didn't mean no harm, and I'll jist go and kill ducks out of spite.' ' Do,' sais she, * and p'raps you'll be in good humor at breakfast.' Well, that night I bid 'em all good bye, and said I should be off airly and return to my own home to breakfast, as there was sorne considerable little chores to attend to ihei'e; and in the mornin' as I was rakin' out the coals to light a cigar, in comes Lucy agin, and sais she, ' good bye, Sam, take this parcel to Sally ; I had lo git up a-purpose to give it to you, for 1 forgot it last night. I hope you will bring Sally over soon, I am very lonesome here.' Then she went to the glass and stood with her back to it, and turned h(.'r iiead over her shoulders and put both hands behind her, a-tryin' to fix the hooks and eyes agin, and arter fussin' anil fumblin' for awhile, sais she, ' I believe I must trouble you agin, Sam, for little Byney is asleep and mother won't be down this half hour, and there is no one to do it; but don't talk nonsense now as you did yesterday.' ' Sartinly,' sais I, ' but a cat may look at a king, 1 hope, as grandfather Slick used to say, mayn't he?' 'Yes, or a queen either,' sais she, 'if he only keeps his paws off.' 'Oh, oh!' sais I to myself, sais I, 'mother won't be down for half an hour, little liyney is asleep, and it's paws off, is it V Well,"l fastened the hooks and Qy^is, though I wtis none of the quickest about it nother, I tell you, for it warn't easy to shut out a view of such a neck as that, and when I was jist finishin', 'Lucy' eais I, * don't ask me to fasten that are agin.' ' Why net ?' sais she 'Why, because if you do, I'll, I'll, I'll—' What will you dor' sais she — '1 11, I'll, I'll do that,' sais I, puttin' my arms round her neck, turnin' up her face, and givin' her a smack that went off like a pistol. • Well, I never !' sais she, ' mother heard that as sure as you are born ! you impudent wretch yon ! I'll never speak to you agin the longest day 1 ever live. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to act that way, *o you ought. So there now. Oh, I never in all my lite! Get out of my sight, you horrid impedent crittur, go out this minute, or Til cull mother.' Well, faith, I began to think I had cat* i 244 THE ATTACHE ; OR, 111' I Ij If i I! I' J ried it loo far, so snis T, < I bo^ pardon, Lucy, I do indeed ; if joti only knew nil, you wouldn't keep anjjry, I do assure yo-...' ' Hold your ton;j;;u( ' sais !vn, and I jist )»ut my arm round her, a«d if I didn't return that kiss with every farthin' of interest that was due, and teo per cent, of prennum too, it's a pity, I tell you, that's all! It wa^ like a seal on wax; it left the impression on her lips all day. 'Ah sais she, ' Sam, it's time we did part, for you are actin' foolish now come, here's yoin* powder-horn and shot-bag, take your gun and b« off. I hear mother, lint, Sam, I rely on your honor; be olF. And she pushed me gently on the shoulder, and said, ' w-hat a surcy dear you be/ and shot to the door arter me, and then opeuud it agii P- "Si yoij Chl SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 245 A; if \oi: ' liold r dare to more — I Aon't meet, ;, so, sais I ikc, it up. My heart' 11, tlien, rU re so cruel I, don't tell h.' 'Oh, I a proposal and I put my ])r()po:5al, vil tor Nova I?' sais she, is I, ' I con- pardon, and ke amends.' nd a twistin' is it, what is lips is sealed ill me (piite.' ; so unkind? 5al is to beg five you that Oh, Lord, I was no pre- Ihought I was jut to kiss her ver r sais she : uigry or good- must s*ay you will you pro- (corn it as 1 do with her tace nd if I didn't Lvs due, and ten ,'s alll It wa^ jvU day. ' Ah hi' foolish now our gun and b< honor; be off. 1, ' what a sarcy 1 opened it agh and called artcr me, and said, * Mind yon bring Sally over to see me soon. I'm very lonely here. Bring her soon, 8am.' As I went hoi 11", I hegan to talk to my.-elf. — Sam, sais I, ' iiooks and eyes' is dangerous things, do you jist mind what you are about, or a sarlin young laut then, as Minister says, all created erilturs have their use, and must live, I do sup|K)so. The tojid eats slugs, the swaller eats muskeeters, and the hog <'ats rattle-snakes; why shouldn't tlnvsc leeches fasten on to fat old fools, and bleed them when their habit is loo full. " Well, bad as this crittur is, there is a wus one, and that is a Whig hook. The Whigs have no power oi' themselves, ihey get it. all from the Kadieals, IJomanists, llepublican.s, Dissenters, and lower orders, and so on. Their hook, tiierefore, is at t'other eend, and hooks uj). Instead of an advenlurer, tiierefore, or .epekelator in po- litics, a Whig hook is a statesman, and fa-tens on to the leaders of these bodies, so as to get their su[)port. Oh, dear ! it would make you larf ready to split if you was to watch the menovres of these etUtn-" to do the thing, and yet not jist stoop too low nother, to keep -Zi^jg^.^jilXr jm 248 THE ATTACH i: ; or, .' w i t i { their own position as '\\\f, buf^.-^ and freiitlcnion, ami yet flatter the vanity of these folks. Tuc deceiitcst leade' ; of these bodies they now and then axe to tlieii tables, takin' care the company is all of *,heir own party, that they mayn't be hwfed at for tlieir popularity- huntin'. If they ain't n'^te so decent, but jist as jiowerfid, why they take two or three on \ at a time, bag ' and have !)rd, and do en, they do L>nlir,'htened ion of the V(*n v;hurch breii«^ and jint to each cress to re- dinner, and k, ' Wluit u . I'm glad 5tar.neh re- was to dlno good luck.' how ; rank, Follow oat below 'em. lake iK-e of ars of their ,a Sampson, n's and hear )ert, nobles, except their friends that honorod 'em at the " House dinner.' They are tlirowcd into a heap tojiether, anrf, and lo adopt its view:;, itrovided tho j)urly will adopt thcm.X. To nnikf. the (fmrritment r<\y:oiisiJ/fc to nuch (I jmrtfi as litis, and to aurrouiivr tlic jiatrhnxfji' of the ('mint to if, is to siicrijice eviri/ Jiritish and eveit/ J'l-utcstdut interrst in the cotintrt/./ '• Tilt! hope ai)d the bflicf, and indeed llio entire eouvij'tion that sncli wonld be tlie result, was the rear^on vliy tlie FiTnt ; and this is undoubtedly the true doctrine. an" the movement party in Canada stylo themselves) say he is but llie head of his executive council, an«l that that council must be res])onsible to the people. Where, then, is the nionarehical j)rincip]e? or whei'e is the lim^ of denuucation between such a state and independence? The langu.ige of these troublesome aiid i'actious men is, 'Every Government ought to be able lo possess a niajority in the legi.-lalure powerful enough tocjiiry its measures;' and ihe plausibility of this dogmatical assertion deludes many per- sons who are unable to understand the question properly. A ma- '^orihj is required, not to carry Government measures, but to carry cer- tain persons into office and power. A colonial administration neither has, nor ought to have, any government measures. Its foreign jjolicy and internal trade, its post oHice and customs department, its army and navy, its commissariat and mint, are imperial services pro- vided for here. Its civil list is, in most cases, established by a per manent law. All local mutters should be left to the indej)endent action of members, and are generally belter lor not being ititerfered with. If they are required, they will be voted, as in times past ; if al th pc dt ol fa r all cij SAM SMCIC IN' KN(JI,ANI). 25a iiifliicnco /(' to nuch ii fi) if, is ; country./ •tion thitt li leaders , rtiul joy, in, by-lho ■were \in- c'ondition ority, and f tho real nch. aided Unit liadi- ■' rnliiuj by I tlte ejrhi- sanctionrd (it n vwn- in'jr puc.h a- lia\ o been ts strive to iidcavoi" to o has but a ;U delepiates ubtfdly th«5 colonial de- aiinda stylo oil, ami that then, is the ion betA\eon troublesome le to possess j nieasni-es ;' s many per- •ly. A nia- to cnrnf cer- ation neither Its foreign partment, its services pro- led by a per indejjendent ig interfered mea ]^ix.^i ; if not, they will r*mnin tinattemiitcd. No dilfienlty was ever felt oc fhis score, nor any eoniplaint ever made, until Lord Dni'ham talked of IJoanN of Works, C()unnissi()ii('r,-.|iips, Supervi.ors, J^ord ^MayorS; District Jntcndants, and other things that at onc(( awakened the cu- pidity of iningry demagogues and rajjacious patriots, who fortliwiih demanded a party (Jovennnent, that they might ha\e party-jobs, and the execnrion of these lucrative alfairs. A (iovennnent by a ma- jority has proved itself, with ns, to be the worst of tyrannies; but it will be inljnitcdy more (tppressive in th(.' Coloni<;s than in the; Stat«'s, for loe have rcpnUican imlllntioitH to )/iuHmed again to-day by Mr. Slick. " Minister," said be, " I quite concur with you in your idee of that form of colony government. When 1 wad to Windsor, Nova Scotia, a few years ago, Poulett Thompson was there, a-waitin' for a steamer to go to St. John, New Brunswick; and as I was a-passin' Mr. Wilcox's inn, who should I see but liim. I knowed him the moment I seid him, for I had met him to London the year before, when he was oidy a member of jjarliament ; and since tlie Reform Bill, you know, folks don't make no more account of a member than an alderman ; indeed, since I have moved in the first circles, I've rather kept out of their Avay, lor they arn't thought very good com- pany in a gineral way, 1 can tell you. Well, as soon as 1 met him, I knowed him at»once, but 1 waru't a-goin' for to speak to him fust, seein' that he had become a big bug since, and p'raps wouldn't talk to the likes of me. But up lie comes in a minit, and makes a low bow — he had a very curious bow. It was jist a stilF low bend Ibr- rard, as a feller does afore he goes to take an everlastin' jump ; and sais he, 'How do you do, Mr. Slick? will you do me the favor to walk in and sit down awhile, I want to talk to you. We are en- deavorin', you see,' sais he, ' to assimilate matters here as much a.t possible to wh'at exists in your country.' • So I see,' &ais I ; ' but J am ashamed to say, I don't exactly comprehend what responsible government is in a colony.' ' Well,' sais he, ' it ain't easy of defini' tion, but it will work itself out, and adiust itself in practice. I hav< SAM SLICK IN KNOLANP. 255 pone that icon prO' idcnce *'« (iml office •yarils the ic ibivt Ima icn. The uiid spciik Canada i$ II. now become -day by Mr. our idee of mdsor, Nova tt-wiiitin' for was u-passiu' wed liim tbe year before, ■i the Ueibrm member tban it circles, I've •y good com- as 1 met him, k to him lu!-t, wouldn't talk I makes a low low bend Ibr- in' jump -, and c the favor to We are en- re as much at gjxis 1 ; ' hut 1 lat responsible- easy of defini' actice. I hav^ ^ven them a frosli hare to ri.;i, and that U a groot, mattor. Thoir uttention is lakcn off iVoin old .-'<)nr<-t.>> of ^t^if(>, and n't linn up for tnunp card.' llf lookfd tlioii;^Ltt.i! tor u mo- tncnt, and llicn sals, ' Wry good hit, Mr. Slii-k ; vtiy j^ood liit, indcM'tl ; and, ln.t\vr(,'n our-iclvc.'i, in politic-, 1 am alVaiil tlicrc iiro oviMTwlicrt', more knaves than honors in the pack.' 1 liavc ot'icn tlioii^^lil of that I'xpri'ssion ssince — 'a fr<'.-h har<; i) run;' wiial a princi[»l(' of action for a htatcsnian, warn't it? Ihit it was ji. L like liiui ; h(! thonght everybody he met was fools. One half the [)eople to Canada diiln't know what onder tho sun he ;aeant; but they knowed he was a radical, and iigin the Church, mid agin all th ; old Kngli>li famili(!S there, and therefore i/icy followed him. W' 11, ho seed that, and thought them fools. If he'd a-livcl a littl'^ grain longer, he'd a-lbimd they were more rogues than tools, them lillert!, for tiiey had an axe to grind as well as him. Well, t'other half .seed he was a schemer, and a schemer, too, that wouldn't stick at nothiii' to carry out his ecnds ; and thci/ wouldn't ha\ e notliin' to sj'.j ^o him at all. Well, in course, he called theui Ibols, too ; if he'd a-li . ed a little grain longer, I guess he'd a limnd out who.-ie ln-ad tluj tool's cap fitted best. " Well,' s4iis I, ' it warn't a Inul idee that, of givin* 'em 'a I'resh hare to run;' it was grand. You had nothin' to do but to start the hare, say 'stuboy,' clap your hands ever .-o loud, and olf goes the \shole jiack of yelpiu' curs at his heels like w'nk. It's kept them from jumpin' and fawnin', and cryin', antl cruvin', and pawin' on you for everlastin', for somethin' to eat, and a boiherin'of you, and a Hpilin' of your clothes, don't it? You give 'em the dodge properly that lime; you got that lesson from the indgin dogs on the Mississippi, 1 guess, didn't you ?' ' No,' sais he, lookiji' one half out of sorts and t'other half nobsquizzled ; ' no, 1 -h never there,' sais he. ' Not there ?' sais I, ' why, you don't .say r , ! Not there ? well, it passes all ; for it's the identical same dodge. When a dog wants to cross the river there, he goes to a p'int of land that stretches away out into the water, and sits down on his 1 uid Icgs^ and cries at the tip ecnd of his voice, most piteous, and howls so it would make your heart break to hear him. It's the most horrid dismal, solemcoly sound you ever know'd. Well, he keeps up this tune lor the matter of half an hour, till the river and the woods ring again. All the crocodiles for three miles up and three miles down, as soon as they hear it, run as hard as they can lick to the spot, for they are very humane boys them, cry like women at nothin' a'most, and always go where any crittur is in distress, and drag him right out of it. Well, tis soon as the dog has 'em all collected, at a charity-ball like, a- waitin' for their .supper, and a-lickin' of their chops, oti" he starts, hot foot, down the bank of the river, for a mile or so, and then 256 THE ATTACH^; OR, ii In- V ' Fou^os right in and swims across as quick as he can pull for it, and gives them the slip beautiful. Now, your dodge and the Mississippi dog is so much alike, I'd a bet anything a'most, you took the hint from hini.' •' ' What a capital story !' sais he ; ' how orcommon good ! upon my word, it's very apt;' jist tlien steam-bout bell rung, and he o^'to ' the river, too, and give me the dodge.' " I'll tell you what he put me in mind of. I was to Squire Shears, the tailor, to Boston, oncet, to get measured for a coat. ' Scpiire, s^ais I, 'measure me quick, will you, tlial's a good soul, for I'm in a horrid hurry.' ' Can^,' said he, ' Sam ; the designer is out — sit down, he will be in directly.' 'The designer,' sais I, ' who tho devil is that, what ouder tiie sun do you mean ?' Well, it raised my curiosity — so I squats down on the counter and liglits a cigar. ' That word has made my fortin', Sam,' sais he. ' It is somethin' new. He designs the coat, that is wliat is vulgarly called — cuts it out; — and a nice thing it i-, too. It requires a light hand, great freedom of touch, a quick eye, and great taste. It's all he c n do, for he couldn't so much as sow a button on. He is an Englishman of the name of Street. Artist is a common word — a foreman is a common word — a measurer is low, Vv*ry low; but 'a designer,' oh, it's fust chop — it's quite the go. ' My designer !' — Pleavens, what a lucky hit that was ! Well, Mr. Thompson put me in mind of Street, the designer, he didn't look onlike him in person nother, and he was a grand hand to cut out work lor others to do. A capital hand for makin' measures and designin'. But to get back to my story. He £..id he had given 'em to Canadji 'a fresii hare to run.' Well, they've got tired of the chace, at la^t, arter the hare 'for tJiey hante been able ro catch it.' They've returned on the tracks from where they started, and stand starin' at each other like fools. For the fust time they begin to ax themselves the question, what is res- ponsible government? Well, they don't know, and they ax the Governor, and he don't know, and he axes Lord John, the Colonial Secretary, and he don't know. At last Lord John looks wise and ' It's not onlike prerogative — its existence is admitted — it's only Its exercise is questioned.' / Well, the Governor looks wise and sais the same, and the people repeat over the words arter him — look puzzled, and say they don't exactly understand the answer nother. it reminds me of what happened to me oncet to Brussels. I was on the top of a coach there, a-goin' down that dreadful steep hill there, not that it is so awful steep nother ; but hills are curiosities there, they are so scarce, and every litUe sharp pinch is called a iiigh hill — jist us every sizeable hill to Nova Scotia is called a m6uniain. "Well, sais the coachman to n.e, ' Tovrnez la mccaniqne.' I didn't know what the devil he meant — I didn't understand French when it is tiilked thai way, and don't now. A man must spf ak very kIow in A CM si fc E CO ro IK SAM SLICK IS ENGLAND. 257 for it, anJ Misj^issippi k the hint ;oorl ! upon id he oli" to to Squire for a coat, od fOul, for a» iemal in the whole irorld.' " n, a I a a I SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 259 Te — British clique and ench in its )0(1.' " inner which g hmguagc, jreat wrath, Ik that way. rugglin' lor, ■, that's what ij; — go to the and then in lontreal and 'c the whites :ni (k'atli and ind he seized lat, and send • death. Let )t' my ' nortii- Let the Brit- dare, and 1 11 ur rank, take he inarched Ir. Hopewell, ' very strong le feelings of Squire, if ve out all the vernnicnt is a )(! only appli- erpretation is Great Britain and most ^)a« CHAPTER XLV. THE DUKE OF KENT AND HIS TRUMPETER. Mr. Smck's weak point was his vanity. From having risen suddenly in the world, hy tlie unaided efforts of a vigorous, unedu- cated mind, he vei'y naturally acquired great self-reliaiice. He un- der\aUi('d every obstacle, or, what is more probable, overlooked the greater i)art of those that lay in his v.ay. To a vulgar man like liim, totally ignorant of the modes of life, a thou-and little usages of society would unavoidably wholly escapes his notice, while the selec- tioii, collocation, or pronunciation of woi'ds were things for which he appeared to have no perception and no ear. Dillidence is begotten by knowledge, presumption by ignorance. The more we know, the more extended the Held appears upon which we have entered, and the more insignificant and imperfect our acquisition. The less we know, the less opportimity we have of ascertaining what remains to be leai'ned. His success in his trade, his ignorance, the vulgarity of his early occupations and habits, and his subsequent notoriety as a humorist, all contributed to render him excee'Vingly vain. His vanity was of two kinds, national and persona!. The fir,-t he has in common with a vast number of Americans. He calls his country " the greatest nation atween the Poles, ' — he boasts " that the Yan- kees are the most free and enlightened citizens on the face of the airth, and that their institutions are the [)erfection of human wisdom." He is of his father's opinion, that the battle of Bunker Hill was the greatest battle ever iought; that their naval victories were the most brilliant achievements ever heard of; that New York is superior to London in beauty, and will soon be to in extent ; and finally, that one Yankee is equal in all respects to two Englishmen, at least. If the Thames is mentioned, he call>. it an ir.significant creek, and I'e- Diinds you that the Mississippi extends inland a greater distance than fhe space between Nova Scotia and England. If a noble old park tree is pointed out to him, he calls it a pretty Hi tie scrub oak, and immediately boasts of the {)ines of the Rocky Mountains, which he allirms are two hundred feet high. Show him a waterfall, and it is a noisy babbling little cascade compared with Niagara; or a lake, and it is a mere duck-pond in comparison with Erie, Superior, Cham plain, or Micliigan. It has been remarked by most travellers, that 'f>iiSmtmmmmtm Wii El; li ¥ llil 2G0 'VUK A'l'iwciii'; ; oi:, this sort of tliiii;; is so coninioii in lln- SimIcs, tliiil if in.'iy In' said fc 1)1' almost uiiixcr al. Tliis i-; not iimr (lie case. Il lias |»i'('\ailc»i more jinicrallv liciclfilon' tlian al |ii-('sriil, Itiil it is now iioi iniicii more (il)\ ions llian in tlu' !■ |ilf ot" any oilier coiinlry. '/'/n- ni'm:- tiifi/ f'lir if nt> loiKjrr ciisfs. 'l''iit the Ainrricans aic |)i()iiii their intli'iiendcnro ;••[ t'' |ioiiil of (lie swoitl, iVoin Uie nio~t powerl'iil nation in the woi »l, nnder ail llic inauil'old (liail\aiila!i;es oi' |)o\ii(y, (li-|»ersion, disnuion, want, ol' tli-icipline in (lieir soldiers, mid e\|ierieiu'e in their ollicers, is not to he wondered at. I'ln'V ha\e rea-on to he prontl of it. It is lh(i greatest achievement ol' modern times, 'i'liat they are piond of the eonstinnnate skill ol" their torellithers in Iramiinj a I'onstitulion the hest snited to their po-ilion and their wants, aiitl one withal th(\ most diHicnlt in the world to ad- jnsl, not only with propi-r eliecks and halances, hnt with any t'lieeks ut all, — at n time too when there was no model hel'ore them, and all ^.'Xpt'rieni'c against them, is still less to he. wondered at. iSdr liavo wo any reason to olijeet to the hom-st pride they exhihit. of their nohle eonnlry. their enlightened and enterprisiiiij people, their hean- tii'nl eilies. tlieii' ma;:;nilieent rivers, their «ii!j;aati(' nndeilakin^s. 'I'ht! ^nddi'ii rix' ot" nations, like the sadden rise ol" individuals, lie;;'et.s under similar circ'nmstanees. similar ell'eets. Wliihj lliei'c was f.lic, Iresluu'ss oi'no\clty ahont all tlicM' lliinins, there wa> national vanity. It is now an oM story — their lanrels sit easy on them. Ihey aro nc'ou-tomed to them, ami they oecnpy loss of their thonLvhl-*, and of oonrse loss ot" their conversation, than formerly. At tirst, too, strange as it may seem, f/icir cj-itifcd e the people in their own estimation, and to make them fool tlu' heavy responsibility that rested upon them, in order that they might cpialii'v themselves for tlu; part they were called n[)on to act. As they were weak, it was n(;edl'nl to conlirtn their courage by sirengthening their selt'-reliance. As they were poor, it was proper to elevate their tone of mind, by constantly setting bel'ore them their high d(.'siiny ; and as their Kepublio was viewed with jealousy and alarm by Europe, it was important to sUtach the nation to it, in tho event of aggression, by extolling it above all others. Tho first gen- eration, to whom all this was new, has now [lassed away; the second has nearly disa{)peareil, and with the novelty, tho excess ol" national \anitv which it necessarilv engendered will cease abo. lY'rsotuil ^anity stands on wholly ditferent grounds. There not only is Jio ne- ce.-;iiy, but no ju.'-tilicaliou lor it whatever. It is always wirensive, sonieiiaies even disgusting. Mr. Hopewell, who was in the habit of admonishing tho Attiu?.h6 whenever he thought admonition uecoo- Eai'y, took occasion to-day to enlai'ge on both points. A.s to the fir"''. ■'?*• FAM fcLICK IN K\(JLANI>. 201 1)1' t-aid ic \ |»r('\;iil«'tl ' iiol inucli '/'//(' ni'<'ci:- I ol' li:i\ iii;^ i\ Uii' mo-t iiilsaiitM;j;t'H •ir soldiers, :it. Tli.-y •VCllUMlt ol* killol'llicii" fir |)o-ilioM rorld U) iul- Miiy ciici'Ks icm, uikI nil Nor linvo hit of tlurir (lifir l)ciiu- kiii^'>. 'TIh! iials iK'^icl.s I'vv was t.lu'. oumI vanity. 'I'licy arc jrhis, ami (»f too, slrango lis seU-corn- ;lit iorbiil it. IS intlispcMis- iiiakc tlicm 1 order that iHcd u[)oii to r c'oiira;j;o by t \vas proper e tlioui their jealousy and i to it, in the 'he iirst pjcn- ; the second vs ot" national 0. Personal only is no ne- lys wU'ensive, in the habit )nition ueces- .s to the lir-'". Jif! observed, that it was an American failin;,', and boastin<» aluDad, as he ol'icn (lid, in e\trava;:;ant lei*nis of his eoinili-y, was ji rr lioin injnry lo it, li»r it always produced ar^nnnenl, and a-« llio (; w lio ar;:;!!*! always ♦•onvince Iheni.clves in proporli';n as lliey fail lo c(»nviiie(! others, ilic only re-nll of snch discn.-.^ions was lo iinhici; hlran;^t at all. Hear (dd Hidl here, (!vei-y day, lalkin' about the. luw lri.>h, llie poor, mean, proud Scotch, the Yankee fellers, the hori'id li)rei^ner,-, ihe 'iiothin' hut a colonist,' and so on. llt> •.ir.kn me out to enttutain me, and then i\\n;en's father in Nova Scotia, I'rinco Kdward as they calh'd him then. '' (,)ncet n|)on a time he was travellin'on the (ireat Western road, and most of tla; rivers, tiiose days, had feri'y-boals and no bridges. So, his trumpeter was sent afore him to 'nounc school for the blind. It was Pullet Thompson taught them to read. " In'l know ^•y goes lo meet ime to King's son, and pay their respects, and when Kisj-inkirk the bank, and they seed him all dressed in green, covered with gold lace, and splenderiferous cocked-hat on, with lace on it, and a great big, uld-fushioucd brass French-horu, tliut ^Y us rubbed bright ■w '^^-V r -!ampt ai^iiu iV.'A sais over, 'u\ Dutch, once more. U) jmt on llunr 1. ..;■;; and thtn cal'f d ovei- as many (crooked) Jarman oaths as world reach across the rivi r. ii ii's at the evakyation of New York speak it. Don't you kno'-^' liie Ki;i;:;'s father was a hijih Dutchman, from Brunswick ; in course, the l*)-ince can't speak English.' ' Well,' sais the other, * do you know what it means?' 'In course, I do,' sais Loyalist, (and, oh, if some o' them boys couldn't lie. I don't know ■who could, that's all; by their own accounts, it's a wondcu" how we ever jjot independence, for them fellers swoi 3 they won every battle that was fought.) ' i'l course, I do,' sais he, ' that is,' sai> he, ' I used to did to speak it at Long Island, but that's a long time ago. Yes, I understand a leetle,' sais Loyalist. ' Ilis Royal Highness' excellent Majesty sais, — !Man the fi-ri-y-boat, and let the magistrates row me over the ferry. — It is a beautiful language, is Dutch.' ' So it is,' sais they, 'if one could caily understand it,' and off they goes, and spreiids out a great roll of Iioine-spun cloth for him to walk on, and then they form two lines for )iini to pass through to the boat. Lord! when he com;'S to thf; cloth he stops agin, and stamps like a jackass when the Hies tease him, and gives the cloth a kick up, and wouldn't walk on it, and sais, in high Dutch, in a high Jarman voice, too, ' You infarnal tools! — you stu[)id blockheads! — you cussed jackasses I' and a great deal more of them pretty words, and then walked on, 'Oh, dear!' sais they, 'only see how he kicks the cloth; that's cause it's hoinespim. Oh, dear! but what does he say?' sais they. Well, Loyalist felt stuinpt; he knew some screw was loose with the Prince bv the vt'av he shook his tist, but what he couldn't tell ; but as he luid begun to lie, he had to go knee deep into it, and push on. ' He sais he hopes he may die this blessed minit if he won't tell his llither, ihe old King, when lu', returns to home, how well you have behaved,* sais he, * and that it's a pity to soil such beautiful cloth.' '' Oh I' sais they, ' was that it? we was afraid somethin' or another had gona wron^ ; come, let's give three cheers for the Prince's Most Exceiieut SAH SLICK IN ENGLAND. 263 V took lum tovo. lilt- ■a iiiul hi^ un , one to \k.'\\w )u''- (■(•; which Well, they , un'l ihen at ' ISlynlu!, rs, jiail then lie in ihcir i .- • > woi Ul reach h:U 'n\ natur* m ; ' I heord irk speak it. chman, from ' Well; ?ai3 se, I tlo,' sais I (loii't know )mler how we I every battle i.. he, ' I used i ago. Yes, I i(;ss' excellent ; rates row me 1.' ' So it is.' ley goes, and walk on, and boat. Lord! like a jackass and wouldn't lan voice, too, ied jackasses', len walked on. 1 ; that's cause . they. Well, ith the Trince but as he had on. ' lie sais. his lUther, the lave behaved, h.' •' Oh :' sai9 Lher had gone iioit Kicelleut Majesty, and they made the woods and the river ring agin. Oh, how mad Kisscnkirk was ! he expected the Prince would tie him up and give liim live liiwidred lashes i'or his impedence in representin* of him. Oh, he was ready to bust with rage and vexation. He darsn't strike any one, or he would have given 'em a slap with the liorn in a moment, he was so wi-alhy. So, what does he do as they was holdin' the boat, l)ut ups trumpet and blew a blast in the Custos' ear, all of a sudden, ll.at left him hard of lu-arin' on that side tor a month; and lu; sais, in high Dutch, ' Tunder and blit/en ! Take tliat, you ohl tool; I wish 1 could blow you into the river.' Well, tlicy I'owcd iiiin ovc^* tlie river, and tlien formed iigin two lines, and Kissenkirk passed up atween 'em as sulky as a bear ; and then he put his hand in his pocket, and took out sometliin', and held it out to Custos, who dropt right down on Ids knee in a minif, and received it, and it was a fourpeuiiy bit. Tlien, Kissinkirk waved his hand to tlaau to be olf (juick-stick, and muttered agin somellnn', which Loyalist said was, ' Go across agin and wait for my >arvants,' which they did. 'Oil!' sais the magistrate to Custos, as tliey was a-goin' back agin, 'how could you take pay, scpiire ? How could you receive money from Prince ? Our county is disgraced for ever. You have made us feel as mean as Ingians.' 'I wouKhTt have taken it, if it liad been worth anythin', sais Custos, ' but didn't you see his delicacy; he knowed that, too, as well as 1 did, so he offered me a fourpenny bit, as much as to say, ' You are above all pay, but accept the smallest thing possible, as a keepsake from King's son.' 'Those were his very words,' sais Loyalist ; ' I'll swear to 'em, the very identical ones.' ' I thought so,' sais Custos, looking big. ' 1 hope I know what is due to his Majesty's Royal Highness, and what is due to me, also, as Custos of this county. And he drew himself up stately, and said nothin', and looked as Avise, as the owl who had been studyin' a speech for live years, and intended to speak it when he got it by heart. Jist tlien, down comes Prince and all his party, galioiipin' like mad to tlie ferry, for he used to ride always as if old isick was at his heels; jist like a streak of lightnin'. So, up goes the Custos to Prince, quite free and easy, without so much as touchin' his hat, or givin' him the time o' day. 'What the plague kept you so long ?' sais he ; ' your master has been waitin' for you this half-hour. Come, bear a hand, the Prince is all alone over there.' It was somii time afore Prince made out what he meant; but when he did, if he didn't let go, it's a pity. He almost upsot the boat, he larfed so ob.stroperou-. One sejuall o' lariin' was hardly over afore another come on. Oli, it was a tempe.>tical time, you may depend ; and when he'd got over one tit of if, he'd say, ' Only think of them takin' old Kissinkirk for me 1' and he'd larf agin ready to split. Kissinkirk was frightened to death ; he didn't know how Prince would take it, ur what he would do, for he was a uwfui strict 264 THE attache; or, ofliccr; but wlion lie seed him larf so, he knowod all was i-ght. Poor old Kissinkirk! the last time I seed liim was to Windsor. He livtd ill a tiirin-house there, on eharitv. He'd larnt a little English, though not much. Jt was him told me the story; and when he M'ound it up, he sai.s, ' It tante always sho shafe, jMishter Shliek, to be your own drumpeter ;' and I'll tell you what, Minister, 1 am of the same opinion with the old bugler. It is not always sate to be one's own trumpeter, and that's a i'act." CHAPTER XLVI. REPEAL. EvRic since we have been in London, we have taken " The Times" and "The Morn'ng Chronicle," so as to have before us both sides of every ou«; if he choof^es — as much right as I have to be a ChurcUmuu ; SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 265 II wag i-glit. indsor. IIo ttle English, irnl when he LT Shlick, to ster, I am of fs sate to be ; taken "The before us both were, as usual, anchig at their ev, what's your link of him?" id ; *' I neither the wholesale e and much to d and as much tuny. I «"ti an gru.e, and not and precipitate with calmness 1 a Republican, re, farther than ;nily. Looking ere spectator, I by-stander does ssight, however, Party spirit le trutli of any- ted, and always temperately of istian charily in linions of others, is cliarged with le has a right ic a Clmrchman ; "•ift. ff I dilTcr from him on some points, I concur with liim in more, nn(x »nly jrricvt^ we cannot airree in all; and tli;it wliatevcr objcc- ti{)n^ I liiive lo liis Church, 1 liav(^ a tllon^«nd times more respect for j< tlian I have ior a thousand dissenting lolilical sr; now, 1 don't like agitation. <*v(>n in a good cause. It is easy to onei'i riood-gates, but always ditlicult, and sometimes im- possible to dose, them again. .No ; 1 do not like agitation. It is a iearful word. liut if ever there was a man justified in resorting to it, which 1 doubt, it was O'Connell. A Romish Catholic by birth, and, if you will have it, a bigoted one by education, he saw his coim- trymen laboring under disabilities on account of their faitli, — what could be more natural for him than lo suppose that he was serving both God and his country, by freeing his Church from its distinctive and degrading badge, and elevating Irishmen to a political equality with Englishmen. The blessings of the priesthood, and the grati- tude of the people, hailed him wherever he went; and when he attained the victory, and wrested the concession from him who wrested the sceptre from Napoleon, he earned the title, which he has since worn, of ' the Liberator.' What a noble and elevated po- sition he then stood in ! But, Sara, agitation is progressive. The impetus of his onward course was too great to suffer him to rest, and the 'Liberator' has sunk again into the Agitator, without the sanctity of the cause to justify, or the approval of mankind to I'e- ward him. Had he, then, paused for a moment, even lor a moment, when he gained emancipation, and looked around him, what a pros- pect lay befoi'e him whichever way he turned, for diffusing peace and happiness over Ireland ! Having secured an equality of politi- cal rights to his countrymen, and elevated the position of the peasan- try. — had lie, then, endeavored to secure the rights of tlie landlord, and revive the sympathy between them and their tenants, which agitation had extihguished ; had he, by suppressing crime and out- rage, nndered it safe for absentees to return, or for capital to flow into his impoverished country — had he looked into the future for images of domestic comfort and tranquillity to delight the imagina- tion, instead of resorting to the dark vistas of the past for scenes of oppression and violence lo inHame the passions of his countrymen — 12 'J 56 THE A'ITACIIE; ()J{, liad he ltf'l;, lii-; second victory vvdiiM liivv(! snr)tsis>cd the first, and tlu^ stern IJhenitor would lijive heeii H^aiu ci'owned amid tlie boiiediciions of ull, m * the Father' of his coui>try. IJui, alas! a;»itatioii has no tian(inil e«ldies to repose in ; it rides on the billow and the temi)Ost, and hves but on the tnAd)h'd waters of the deep. " Instead of this liappy condition, wliat is now the state of Irehuid? Tlie landlord iiies in alarm lri>m a home that is no lonirer safe from the niidnij^lit marauder. Tlie capitalist refuses to open his purse to drvelop the resources of a country, that is threatened with a civil war. ^len of diik-rent crcK'ds pass each other with looks of dehance, and with that stern silence that inaiks the lixed resolve, to 'do or die.' The (Jovevnnu'nt, instead of bein^ able to ameliorate the londiiion of the poor, is engaged in garrisoning its forts, supplying its arsenals, and preparing for war ; while the jioor deluded people are drawn away liom their peaci'ful and honest pursuits, to assemble in large bodies, that they may be inilamed by seditious speeches, and derive IVe.-h conlidence from tlu strength or impunity of numbers. '' May God of his inhnite gooitness have mercy on the author of all these evils, and so purify his heart from the mistaken motives that now urge his onwards in him uidiappy course, tluit he may turn and repen; him of fci^ evil way, while return is yet pructicable, and rej>entunce not too late ! '* Kow, what is all this excitement to h'ad to? A Repeul of the ITnion? what is that? Is it independence, or is it merely a demand lor a depend at local legislature? If it is independence, look into I'uturity, and yehold the slate of Ireland at the end of a. few years. You see that «he Troteslants of the \orth have driven out all of the oi)posite liiilh and that the Catholics, on their part, have exiled or exterunnated all the heretics from the South. You behold a Chinese wall of separation running across the island, and two inde- pendent, petty, separate States, holding but little intercourse, and hating each other with an intensity only to be equalled by tribes of savages. And how is this unhappy condition to be attained? By a cruel, a wicked, and a merciless civil war, for no war is so bloody as a clonie.-tic one, especially where religion, terrilied at its horrors, Hies from ilu; (ortntry in alarm, and the banner of the Cross is torn frona liie aliar to be desecrated in the battle-liehl. Sam, 1 have seen one, may my eyes r .ver behold another. xS'o tongue can led, no pen dcici-ibe, no im;i,,ination conceive its horrors. Even now, after the hipse of half a century, I shudder at the recollection of it. If it be not independence, that is nought, but a local legislature, then Ireland descends from an integral part of the empire into a colony, and tha Eociol position of the people is deteriorated. \ Our friend, the Squire, 1 I I SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 267 wlio, nt tills moment, Is what O'ConnclI desires to be, n colonist, is laboriiifj incessantly to eonliini ami stren^^llien the connexion of the possessions al)iH)alinciions, to procure for his eonntrynicn ecjnal J'ighls and j)rivileh,' and substitute ' liritish,' or to oblite- rate the term 'Colonial,' and t;Xtend the generic term of Kngli>h to all. He is demanding a closer and more intimate connexion, and instead of excluding Colonists from Parliament, is anxious for them to be represented tliere. In so doing, he evinces both Ids patrlonsin and his loyalty.V O'Connell, on the contrary, is struggling to revive the distinction "^^f races, to awaken the hostility of separate creeds, to dissolve the Political "Union. Jf he ellects his purpose, he merely weakens JCiifflond, but he ruins Ireland.^- This line of conduct may originate in his bigotry, and probably^it does, but vanity, temper, and the rent, are nevertheless to be I'ound at th«f bottom of this boiling cauldron of agitation. "Oh! that some Father JMatthcw would arise, some pious priest, some holy bishop, some worthy man (for they have many excellent clergymen, learned prelates, and great and good men in their Church), and stati'in hand, like a pilgrim of old, preach up good will to man, peace on earth, and Unity of Spirit. Kveii yet the struggle might be avoided, if the good would act wisely, and the wise act Jinnly. Even now O'Connell, if he would adopt this course, and substitute conciliation for agitation (tor hitherto conciliation has been all on the other side), would soon have the gratilication to see his country pros- perous and happy. While those who now admire his talents, tnougb they deprecate his conduct, would gladly unite in ackiiowledgmg the merits, and heaping honors on the ' Tacilicator of all Ireland.' No, my friends, so far from desiring to see the Union dissolved, as a philanthropist and a Christian, and iis a politician, 1 say, ' Esto Per- petua.' " CHAPTER XLVII. THE HORSE STEALER, OR ALL TRADES HAVE TRICKS BUT OUR OWN. After dinner to-day the conversation turned upon the treaties existing between England and the United States, and 1 expressed my regret that in all, the Americans I'ad a deculed advantage. '• Well, I won't say we hante," said Mr. Slick. "The truth is, we do understand diplomacy, that'" a fact. Treaties, you see, are bar- gaius, and a inhar would be a i'uol to make a bud bargain, aud if 268 TIFE ATTACllf^ ; OR, therfi nin't no rncl dicnfin' in it, why a iniin li;\<» a riri(» a^ Iw cnu. W<' pot llic Itc-^t of tlic I'oiiiulary Line, tliats a f'jict, hilt tlicn W( 1) tcr ain't a ciitlcr I lint looks a.'^ it' tin- yeast wnti lel't out ot" liiin by mistake, lie ain't ((niie as fol'r as «l()ni:ii, and liv ain't ondi'ihaked notlier. Well, the tarill' is a poots write thrin sr yon can drive a stage-coach ami six through 'em, and not toin-h the lioha on either sid<'. Our pocdolapers is too deej) for any on \'m. So |;olit(>, makes such soft-sawder s|»eeches, ()r talk* so bip ; hints at a jjreat American market, advantajjes of peace, diinculiy of keepin' our folks from poin' to war; boast <»f our old home, same kindred and lan^na;:;e, magnanimity and good faith of England ; calls com- pen-ation for los.ses only a litlh* atl'air of motiey, knows how to word a sentence so it will read like a riddle, if you alter a stop, grand hand at an excuse, gives an answer that means nothing, doilge and come up t'other side, or dive so deep yon cant ibilow him. -Yes, wo have the best of the treaty businesii, that's a fact. Lord! howl haveofti-n hnighed at that story of Felix Foyle and the horse-stealer I Did I ever tell you that edntiivanee of his to do the Governor of Canada ?" " Jso," I leplied, " I never heard of it." He then rehited the storj" M'ith as much glee as if the moral delinquenc5' of the act was excus- able in a case of such ingenuity. "It beats all," ho said. " Felix Foyle lived in the back part of the State of New York, and carried on a smart chance of business in the provi ion line. l\eiti\ and pork, and flour was his staples, and he did a great stroke in 'em. Perhaps he did to the tune of four hundred ihou-and dollars a year, more or lesii, Well, in course, in such a trade as that, he had to employ a good many folks, as clerks, and salters, and agents, and what not, and among them was his book- keeper, Sossii;ater Cuddy. Sossipater (or Sassy, as folks used to call him, for he was rather high in the instep, and was Sassy by name and Sassy by natur' too.) — well. Sassy was a 'cute man, a good judge of cattle, a grand hand at a bargain, and a'most an excellent schohir at figures. lie was ginerally allowed to be a first-rate busi ness man. Only to give you an idee, now, of that man's smartness, how ready and up to the notch he was at all times, I must jist stop fust, and tell you the i-tory of the cigar. "Jn some of our towns we don't allow smokin' in the streets, though in most on 'em we do, and where it is agin law it is two dol- lars line in a gineral v.ay. Well, Sassy w^ent down to Bo^ten to do a little chore of bu^ine^s there, where this law was, only he didn't know it. vSo, as soon as he gets off the coach, he outs with -Ins case, takes a cigar, lights it, and walks on smokin' like a furnace fiue. No sooner said than done. Up steps constable, and saiS) * I'll troubltt SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 269 t to mnke as ' Line, tliat » If yeast wa," )n;ili. mill liv lor iH too, M» ;lie (M'lul t«x> ^ rite tlitiu so uit toiK-li the nny on 'cm. I)i» ; hints at ty of kccpin' ariic kindred I ; calls com- how to word a stop, }:rand g, doilgc and m. -Yes, wo Lord ! how I lorsc-stf'aler 1 Governor of ited the story •t was excus- back part of ; of business s staples, and tune of four in eourso, in ks, as clerks, was his book- blks used to sas Sassy by man, a good an excellent rst-rate busi I's smartness, must jlst stop the streets, it is two dol- Boj^ten to do )nly he didn't ivith 4iis case, ace liue. No 'I'll troubls I you for two dollars for sniokin* ngin law in the streets. Sassy \\m i\f rpiick as wink on hitn. 'SmoUin'I' sais he, ' I warn't a ."-ruokin'.' 'Oh, my !' sals ciin^labU', 'how you talk, man. I won't .-ay \oii lie, 'cansf ii ain't polite, hut it's \c'ry like the way I lull; when 1 lie. iJidn't I SIC you witii my own c^es?' 'No,' sais Sa-.-y. 'you didn't. It don't do always to h(dieve your own fyv:*, they can't be depended on more nor other people's. I never tru>t mine, I can lell you. I own 1 had a cigar in my mouth, but it was because I like the flavor of the tohacco, but not to smoke. J lake it it don't convene with tho dignity of a free imd cnlightcncil cili/Ct'U of our almighty nation to break thu law, secin' that he makes the law himself, and i- his own sovereign, and his own subject Jocj. No, I wariit .• :nokin', and if you don't believe mv, try this cigar yourself, and see if it ain't so. It hante got no lire in it.' Well, constable lakes thi; cigar, puts it into his mug, and draws away at it, and out eoines the smoke like any- thin'. '"I'll trouble i/ou for two dollars, INIr. High Sherilf devil,' sai« Sassy, ' for smokin' in the; streets; do you nndercon-lanii, my old 'eooii?' Well, constable was all taken aback, he was li.iely bit. ' Stranger,* sais he, ' where was you rai.-ed ':" ' To Canady line,' sui.-i Sa.ssy. ' Well,' says he, 'you're a creclil to your broghtens up, Wc;ll, let the line drop, for we are about even 1 guess. Let's liipior;' and he took him into a bar and treated him to a mint-juh'p. It was gin- erally considered a great bite that, and I mii-t say I don't think il. was bad — do you ? IJut to get back to where I started from. Sassy as 1 was a-sayin', was the book-keeper of old Felix Fo} le. The old gentleman sot great store by him, and eouliln't do without him, on no account, he was so ready like, and always on hand, liut Sassy thought he could do without /n'm, tho'. So, one line day, he abs(joti- lated with lour thousand doll.irs in his iiocket, of Felix":-, and cut dirt, for Canady as hard as he could clip. Felix Foyh^ was actiily in a most beautiful frizzle of a lix. lie knew who he had to di-al with, and iha- he might as wi-ll follow a i'ox a'mo.-t as Sas.s}', he was ; o everlastin' cunnin', and that the British wouldn't give u[) a debtor lo us, but only felons ; so he thought the fust lo-s was tin.': best, and A'as about givin' it up as a bad job, when an idee struck him, and olf he stiuted in chase with all .>team on. Felix was the clear grit when his dander was up, and he nev( r sle|)t night or day till ho reached Canady, too ; got on the trail of Sassy, and came uj) to where he was airthed at Niagara. Wiien he arrived it was about noon, !-o as he enters the ta\ern he sees Sassy staudin' with his face to tiie lire and his back to the door, and wiuiL does he do b'lt .-lip into the meal-room and hide hiin.-eif till niglit. ,Ji t a- it via.s dark in comes old liambrick, the inn-keepci', with a light in his hand, and Felix slips behind him, and shuts too the door, and tells him the whole story from beginniu' to eendj how Sassy had >sarved himj 270 THE ATTACHE; OR, and lists the old follow in liis sarvico, and off they set to a magistrate unil get out a warrant, and then tlicy goes to tlie defnity-slicriff and gt'ts Sassy arrc.-tcd. Sassy was so taken aback he. was lianlly able to speak for the niatler of a ininit or so, for he iK.'vcr expeetcd Felix would follow him into Canady at all, se-ein' that if he oMcct reached British side he was safe. But he soon come too agin, so he ups and hullies. ' Pray, Sir,' sais he, 'what do you mean hy this?' 'Nolhin' above partikehir,' says Felix, quite cool, 'only I guess I want the pleasure of your company back, that's all,' and then turnin' to the oiider sheritf, 'Squire,* sais he, 'will you take a turn or two in the entry, while Sassy and I settle a little matter of business together,' and out goes Nab. ' Mr. Foyle,' sais Sassy; ' I have no business to settle with you — arrest me. Sir, at your peril, and I'll action you in law for ialse imprisonment.' 'Where's my money?' sais Felix— ' Where's my four thousand dollars?' ' Wisat do 1 know about your money?' sais Sassy. ' Well,' sais Felix, ' it is your business to know, and I paid you as my hook-keepiM* to know, and if you don't know yrm nuist jist return with me and find out, that's all — so come, let's be a-niovin'. Well, Sassy larfed right out in his face; ' why you ci'ssed tool,' sais he. 'don't you know I can't be taken out c' this col- ony State, but only for crime, what a ra(d soft horn you be to have done so mu-.h business and not ktiow that?' 'I guess 1 got a war- rant that will take you out tho',' sais Felix — ' read that,' a-handin' of tlie ])aper to him. 'Now I shall swear to that agin, and send it to Governor, and down will come the marchin' order in quick stick. I'm soft, I know, but I ain't sticky tor all that, I ginerally come olf clear without leavin'.no part behind.' The moment Sassy read tho war'-ant his face fell, and the cold perspiration rose out like rain- drops, and his color went and came, and his knees shook like any- thiii'. ' Iloss-stealin' !' sais he, aloud to himself — ' lioss-stealin'! — Heavens and airth, what parjury ! ! Why, Felix,' sais he, 'you know devilish well I never stolt; your boss, man; hov\' could you go and twear to such an iniiirnal lie as that?' ' Whv Fm nothin' but "u cussed tool" and a " rael soft horn," yon know,' sais Felix, \A\r, you said jist now, and if I had gone; and sworn to the debt, why you'd a kept the money, gone to jail, and swore out, and 1 d a-had my trou- ble for my pains. So you se(; I swore you stole my boss, for that's a crime, tho' absquotol'ition ain't, and that will tbrce th(! British Governor to deliver vou up, and when I jret. vou into JXew York state, why you s<'ttle with me for my four thousand dollars, and I ■will settle with you for stealin' my boss,' and he })Ut his finger to tlio tip eend of his v.oit', and winked and said, ' Young folks t/iink old folks is tools, but old folks /cnotv young folks is tools. 1 warn't born yesterday, anil I had my eye-ieetli sharpened befi:)re your'n were through the gums, I guess — yon hanlo goj the Bosten constable to deal with now, I can tell you, but old Felix Foyle himself, and he SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 27. tnagistrftte ■slicriff uml Ktrdly able eck'd LVlix [•(•I rcju'lit'tl he iii)s and ' 'Nolhiii' I want the rnin' to the two in the s together,' bnsinc'i^s to L'tion you in ^i^; Felix — about your ess to know, don't know ) conic, let's ; ' why you t c' tins c'ol- I be to have I sot a war- t,' a-handin' and send it qniek stick, ly come otF ,sy read the t like rain- )k like any- -stealin' ! — ' you know you go and liin' but " u 11 X, Vvs you vliy you'd a id my trou- ;s, lor that's the British New York )ll;uv, and I ingcr to tlie k- think old warn't born •our'n were .'onstable to self, and he ain*t so blind but what he can feci his way along I guess — do you tako my meanin', my young 'coon ?' * I'm sold,' pais Sa«sy, and he sot down, ])iit both elbows on the table, and covered his face with Iiis hands, and fairly cried like a child. 'I'm sold,' sais he. * liny your pardon, then,' sais Felix, 'pay down the four thousand dollars, and you are a free and enlighten, uidocked his portmanter, and counted it out all in pa[)ei' rolls ji.^t as he received it. 'There it is,' sais he, 'and I must say you desaiNc it; that was a great stroke of your'n.' ' 8to[) a bit,' says Felix, seein' more money there, all his savin s for yc'ars, ' we ain't done yet. [ must have tive huiidred dollars for expenses.' 'Tliert', d — n yo;i,' sais Sassy, throwin* another roll at him, 'there it is; are you done yet?' 'No,' sais Felix, 'not yet; now you have done mc justice, 1 nuist do you the same, and clear your eharactei-. Call in that geii- tkmau, the constable, from the entry, and I will go a treat of half a pint of brandy. — Mr. Ollicer,' sais Felix — ' here is some nnstake, t'lis gentleman has convinced me he was only ibll(;rin', as my clerk, a debtor of mine here, and when he tmnsacls his business, will ivtuni, bavin' h'ft his boss at the lines, where I Ciui get him if I clioo-e ; and I must say I am glad on't for the credit of the nation abroad. Fill yonr glass, heix.''s u five dollar bill for jour xm^^i, and here's •<► 3'our good health, li' you want provision to -hip oil' in the way ut trade, I'm Felix Foyle, and -^hall be ha])py to accomniodate you.' "Now," said Mr, Slick, " that is what i (all a rjj<'l clever trick, a great card that, warn't it ? lie d<'.-ar\>^ enidit, does Felix, it uin t every one would a-beeu w\^ to trap thai way, is it r" "Sam," said his futlier, rising with ^rreat dignity and formality cT manner, " was that man, Felix Foyle, rver a nii.i/ary man?" "No, Sir; lie never had a <' marw tjiat had seen mili- tary life, could 'ver t<*ll a lie, mii'-h lfxiior Franklin said, the great Doctor Franklin, him that \n\rut uj» two fort> of the British in the revolution war, by bringin' do* a lighU/ij ' on '< m from Heaven by a wire siring), — a liar, Sir! hiK/w mc a bar, and I'll show you a thief" "AVhat was her" said Mr. Hopewell. "A marehant in the [)rovisi<)n line," .-aid the Attaclit-. "No, Bo;_I didn't mean that," he replied. "What sect did he belong to ?" '' Oh ! now I onderstand. Oh ! a wet Quaker lo be sure, they are the 'cutest people its ginerally allowed we have in all our nation.'' "Ah!" said the Ministei", "I was certain h*,, was not brought up 272 THE ATTACHE : OR, m in the Church. Wo teach morals as well as doetriiKjs, iuicoursing of the merits or the fortunes of tiiose whose achievements had enlitled them to t!ie honor of l)eing laid with the great and the gootl of past ages, in this national temple of Fame. Our atttaition was soon arrested bv an exclauiatiun of My. Slick. "Hullo I" said he, "how the plague did this feller get here? Why, S(piire. as I'uic a livin* sinner, hero's a colonist! Wiii»t crima did l;e eommit liiat lliey took so nuich notice of him ? ' Sacred to the memory of Willium Wragg, Esq., of South Carolina, who, when the American colonies revoited f jax Great Britain, iiiHexibly main- tained his loyalty to the person and goverumeiit of his Sovereign, nil oiidoavol y lilt! ]>iirity )e JV rlmrch k'ickcdiy no- li, " luul lie iim. Sonio so ilcy and you wuiuler >v tlie honor lint you, lanvd widi e trii'h Out mphell. tiie I- in Wot- arningc- arrive untii \v(M"(! very K' baniors. and a j^rcaf lonor to liis n.-cH'a di.'- ovcr, and ninin;^ tlio :s of tliose l)oini^ laid ml teni[)le unalion of V get liere? vM ei'iiuu ' Sacred ta who, when ibly main* Sovereif^n, SAM SUCK IN KNGLAIsI). 273 ^ nnd was tlicreforo, compelled to leave hi-t distressed family and nmplo fortnne.' Oh Lord! I lli()ii;;lil it nm I have been soiiie tii;ic bcibre the lioud, for loyally in tlic eoionics i-i at a d:;;(:oiint now; ii's a bad road to |)i'('t('nnenl, J can tell }(>ii. 7\;;itatIon, bnllyin' ;^;overnoi's, shoolin' down soircrs, and rebeilin' is th(! pa-.-port now-a-da},-. ThiMii were llu.' boys Dnrliuin aiid TiioiniLon lionoreu , — all the loyal old cocks, all tiicrii that tni'ned out and ('oii;iht ami saveay, it's so long ago I forget!' ' Why,' sais he, 'don't you mind we was a talkin' of tb(!in Lw(j pi- rales the jnry ibund not giiilly, and the eonrt tui'ned /dum on ili(i town; yon said it was all right, lor they was toos'i cliaracters. Oh ! 1 see it nuiv, it was rael jam lliaL.' 'Oh !' sais I, not ovtjrly pleased iiolher, for a joke, like an egg, is never no good 'xeept it's fresh laid — is it ? " Well, the Knglish are like the old Deaeon ; th(;y don't se(! a man's merits till he's dead, and then they wake up all of a sudden, and say, ' Oh ! we must honor this feller's ^keletiju,' and Peel, and Brougham, and all the dons, go and play pall-bearers to it, stand over his grave, look sentimental, and altiuideni/e a lew; and when 1 say to 'em you hadn't oiiglit to have laid V-''h\ right a top of old Dr. Johnson — for he haled Seolehmen ,• o like o. ' Seiatch ; if he wa- to lind it out he'd kick straii up on i cud, and ta'ow him oil"; they won't larf, but give me a look a-; mueh as to su}', W^estminster Ab- bey ain't no plaee to joke in. .Ii>t a^ if it warn't a most beautiful joke to see these men, who eould bu. . dout- evfU" so n)neh ibr the poet in his lifeliaie, when it eould li;iv«; done him good — i;ut who ni'ver even so much as hekl oul a li;i ;,i'r to him, exeept hi a little maUer not worth havJ!)' — now he is de.id, slai't up all at onee and patronize his body antl bones when it can't do iiim one mos.-el of good. Oh! tln;y are like Deacon FlinL — they uaderstaiid when it'a too late. " Poor old Tom Campbell, there was some pleasure- of hope that he never sot down iu bis book, 1 know, lie noped — as ne had cliarmed and delighted the nation, and given 'em another ondyin' name, to add to their list of poets, to crack and to brag o'l — he'd a had a recom{)ense at lea>t in some goveft'nment a;)pointme!»t that would have cheered and sojthed his old age, and he was disappinied, that's all; and that's the pleasures of hope, Squire, eh? lie hoped that fame, which he had in his life, would have done hhu soipp gjod 12* 274 THK ATTACH^ ; OR, i : f in his life — didn't ho ? Well, he lived on that hope till he died, ftnd tlifit didn't di.-nppint him ; for how can a feller say he is dis- appinted bv a tliinj:^ he has lived on all his days? and that's the I'leasnrcs of Hope. *' 1I(> hoped, ill eonrse, Peel would be a patron of poet> — and so he i?, he acts u-^ a pall-bearer, 'cause as soon a- the pall is over him, he'd never bother him nor any other minister no more. Oh ! ' Hope told a flatterin' tale ;' but all flatterers are liars. Peel has a princely fortune, and a princely pat ronai^e, and is a prince of a feller; but there is an old savin' ' Put not your trust in Princes.' If poor Tom was alive and kickin' I'd tell him who to put his trust ii^. — and that's licntley. lie is the only patron worth havin', that's a fact. lie does it so like a gentleman: '1 have read the poem, Mr. Campbell, you were so kind as to indulge me with the perusal of; if you would permit me to favor the world with a sight of it, I shall have great [)lea--ure in placin' a cheque for two thousand guineas in your bank- er's hands.' "Oh! that's the patron. The great have nothin' but smiles and bows, lientley has nothing but the pewter — and that's what I like to drink my beer out of. ^Secretaries of State are catt'e it's pretty hard to catch in a field, and put a bridle on, 1 can tell you. No, they have nothin' but smiles, and it requires to onderstand the lan- guage of smiles, for there are all sorts of them, and they all speak a ditlerent tongue/ " I ha\ e seen five or six of them secretaries, and Spring Kice, to my mind, was the toploftiest boy of em all. Oh ! he was the boy to emile ; he could put his whole team on sometimes if he liked, and run you right off the road. "Whenever he smiled very gracious, followed you to the door, and shook you kindly by the hand, and said, — call airain, vour Hint was fixed : 30U never seed him no more. Kind- hearied crittur, he wanted to spare you the pain of a refusal, and bein' a little coquettish, he ))uts his prettiest smile on, as you wa»- never to meet again, to leave a favorite impression behind him; the all say — call agin : IJentley, never ! No juleanures of liop<> tvith kirn ; he is a patron, he don't wait for the pall. " Peel, sportsman-like, is in at the death ; Bdntley comes with the nurse, and is in at the birth. There is some use in such a patron as •-hat. Ah ! poor Campbell ! he was a poet, a good poet, a beautiful poet ! lie knowcd all about the world of imagination, and the realms of fancy ; but he didn't know nothin' at all about this world of our'n, pr the realm of England, or he never would luive talked of the 'Pleasured of Hope' for an author. Lord b!"ss yon! let a danein' gall come to the opera, juTnp six foot high, light on one toe, hold up the other so high yojj can see her stays a'most, and then spin round like a daddy-'.r:- ^-!egs that's got one fool caught in a taller candle, and go spin :L, rouid arter that fashion for ten minits, it will touch SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND. 275 e died, and lift is dis- 1 hat's the •ts — and so s ovfir him, Oh! 'Hope ; a princely irller; but f y.aov Tom —and that's I fact. lie . Campbell, ' yon would have j^roat your bunk- smiles and lat I like to it's pretty you. No, md the Ian- all speak a \v^ Rice, to the boy to ed, and run IS, followed f^aid, — call tre. Xind- efiisal, and as you wa»- I him ; the ? tvith him ; es with the IX patron as a beautiful I lie realms Id of oui-'n, nt ax 'em this, ' Master, if that hovise cost five hundred dollars, .and a barrel of nails live dollars, what would a good si.';eable pig come to? — do you give it up ?' Well, he'd come to a bushel of corn. Every man, woman, and child would tell you they heerd the clown ?ay that to the circus, and that they miii(l tiiry larfi'd ready to ki!! themselves. Grinnin' pays better nor i hymin', and tieklin' the ribs with fingers })lea-es folks more, and makes 'em larf more, than tiek- lin their ear^ with varses — that's a fact. " 1 guess, when Campbell writ ' The Mariners of England,' — that ♦vill li e till the Britisher's sailors get whipped by us so they will be ishamed to sing it — he thought himself great shakes ; heavi-ns and lirtii ! he warn't half so big as Tom Thumb — he was jist nothiif. Lhit let some foreign hussey, whose skin ain't clear and whose eliar- /icter ain't clear, and whose debts ain't clear, and who liante nothin' clear about her but her voice, let her couk* and sing that splendid song that puts more ginger into sailors than grog or prize-money, or anvlhin', and Lord ! all the old admirals, and llag-odieers, and vacut- Oien, and others that do onderstand, and all the lords, and ladies, !i:i'' princes, that don't onderstand where the springs are in that .-oiig. that touch the chords of the heart — all on 'em will come and worship a'niOiit; and some yoinig Duke or another will fancy he is a yoin g Jupiter, and come down in a shower of golda'most for her, while the poet has 'The Pleasures of Hope' to feed on. Qh ! I envy liiui, glorious man, I envy him his great reward; it was worth seveiny years of ' hope,' was that funeral, " He was well repaid — Peel held a striiig of the pall. Brougham m r^ 276 THE ATTACH K ; OR •> canio nnd said, ' ITow damn cold tlio Abboy is!' Iho Diilio of Ar«?}'to, Si'ot('liinaii-lik(>, rubbed bi.^ back a.uin Roiibilliac's ^tatlu' of bis ^Tcat iuicoslor, and tlioiiirlit it was a pity in; ba(bft nii'ii'atrd lo I'riiico Kdward's Ishind ; D'Jsi'acli said bo was one of fnc ^ C'nriositit's of J/itcratiiic ;' wbibi jMacaulay, \vlio looks Ibi" -iiiiart tliiii;/s, said, ' Poor I'cllow, tbis was always tbo object of liid uuibilioii ; it was bis ' bope beyond tiie ;jravo.' " " Sib'nr(>, Sir," said Mv. Ilopnwoll, with more asjxn-ity of niaiuKM* I ban 1 evi'i' ol> crvcd in biin bcibrc ; "sib'ni'cs Sir. If yon will not re.-pcct yourself, respect, at b'a.-t, tin; soleniiiily of the place in wbich you stand. 1 never lieard siicb nnwortby sentiments before ; ti^iu!.i:b li'oy are jnst wbat nii<>;bt be expected from a pedlar of clocks, ^'ou have no ideas beyond tbose of doUars and cents, and you vaiUi^fanio •'s you would a hor.-c, by wbat it will fetch in ready money. /Yonr observations on the noblemen and {jjcmtk^men wbo have done tliem- s(!lves bonor this day, as well as the poet, by taking a |u>rt in tbis ;;ad ('ereniony, arc both indecent and unjust; whib- your lu.^t remark is absohitely profane. 1 liave every reason to believe, Sir, that lie :.ad 'a hope beyond tb(; grave.' All his writings bear tb« stamp of a mind strongly imbued with tl)o pure spirit of religion : be must liimself have felt ' the hope beyond the grave ' to have described it a3 he has done ; it is a pa.sage of great beauty and subUmity. " 'Eterunl Iiope I when yonder Fiil)cros Bublimo Poaled their fust rmti's lo so'and the march of Time, Tli\' joyous youth hci^au — hut not to fade, — Wheu ail the sister planets liave dee;iy'd ; ^VllCIl wra[)t in lire the realms of ether glow. And Heaven's last thunder shak«'s tiie world hch v; 'I'liDU, uiiilismay'd, shall o'er tlie ruiiu smile, And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile.' 'S I " AVe have both done wrong to-day, my son ; yon have talketl Mijipantly and irreverently, and 1 have suifenid my temper lo bo agitated in a very unbecoming manner, and that, too, in consecrated ground, and in the iiou.M of t'i: Lord. I am not disposed to remain bei-e just now — let us depart in peace — :ive nie your lu-m, my son, iind \vc will discourse of other things." When we returned to our lodgings, Mr. Slick, wdio felt hurt at the sharp r<;buke he had received from Mv. Hopewell, recurred again to the subject. " That was one of the old man's crotchets to-day, Squ're," be said; " he never wt)uld have slipt off the handle that way, it lliat sj^eech of Macaulay's liadn't a-scared him like, ibr hi,' i; a ; .killish ;is a two-year-old, at the lea^t sound of Mich a thing. AVhy, i have beerd bim say himself, the lot of a j)CM't was a hard one, over tu\d over again ; and that tlic workl let them fiu-t starve to dvuih, luid tliew SAM SMCK IN ENGLAND. 277 3 of Arpj'tc, of his ;ji;nat •d (o Pi'iiK'O nriositit's ot , said, ' Poor [IS his ' hope y of ma liner you will not iico in which on; ; t!i^)Ui.':h ,'loc)vS. you I vsilin^ianio inoy. /Your 1 done tlu'in- , ju'il in tliis la.^t. remark Sir, that he hy stamp of L)n : he must ;scrib(!d it as ity. juve talked 'uijuT to be eon.-ecnited il to remain •m, my son, felt hurt at [, recurred '," he said; that speech •killish as a have heerd er arul over :h, luid tliew built monuments to 'em that eo t more money than woiiM havn mjidc 'em eomturlahle all llicir hoiii days. J\la;.y anil many a lime, Avlien he useil to make me sa.y o\(T Io him as a hoy ' (jiay's Kle;j:y,* he'd say, ' Ah I poof man, he was iiinlccicd liil mieiilion came too hile. — \Vlicn he was old and iiiiai'iu, ami it could do him no L^ood, they iiiadt! him a proles or in som(^ eolle;ie or anolhi-r ;' and. then he'd iS') over .i whole string" — Mason, JMicklc, Hums, ;ind I don't; know who alk lor I ain't much of a hooksler, and don't recollect; — and how olien I'vi; heerd him pi-aise oui- (lovernment i"or makin' AVashlngion Jrvin' a i end)assa(lor, and say what an example we sot to Kn;;laiid, hy sneii a nohle spontaneous nr{ as v;ll live when that are oW Abbey crumbles down, and when all them that thought they was honorin' him are dead and forgotten ; his monument was built by his own brains, and his own hands, and the inscription ain't writ in Latin nor (jreek, nor any oilier d. ad language, notlur, but in a livin' language, and one, too, tha: w ill never die out now, seehi' our great nation uses it — ynd Jierc it is — 'asurei of Hope, by Thomas Campbell.' '' III I 1'^ M 1 Iff* J ■ ! ^kM •■ I; S ! I If 278 THE ATTACnfi: OR. CHAPTER XLIX. DON T I LOOK PALE? OR, THE IRON GOD. Mr. Slick having as usual, this mornin*^, boasted of the lilgh Fociety he mingled with the preceding evening, and talked \vith most ab.-urd familiarity of several distinguished persons, very much to the deliglit of his fath(.'r, and the annoyance of Mr. lJo|.e\vell, tlie latter, at last, interrupted him with pome very judicious advice. lie told him he had observed the change tha* liad come over him lately >villi very great regret; that he was altogether in a false position and acting an unnatural and absurd part. " As a Republican," he said, '' it is expected that you should have the simplicity and iVankness of manner bvcoming one, and that your dress should not be that of a courtier, but in keeping with your cha- racter. It is well known here that you were not educated at one of our universities, or trained to otlicial li," < and that you have risen to it like many others of our countrymen, by strong natural talent. To assume, tlierefore, the air and dress of a man of fa>hion, is quite absurd and if persisted in, will render you j)erfectly ridiculous. Any little errors you may make in the modes of life will always be passed o\er in silence, so long as you are natural ; but the moment they are accompanied by affectation, they become targets for the shafts of satire. "A little artificial manner may be tolerated in a very pretty wo- man, because great allowance is to lie m.ade for female vanity ; but in a man, it is altogether insutl'erable. Let your conversation, there- fore, be natural, and as to the fashion of your dress, take the good old rule — " ' Be not the first by whom the new is tried, Nor yd the last to lay the old aside.' In short, be Sam Slick." '• Don't be afeerd. Minister," i-aid IMr. Slick. " I have too much tact for that. I shall keep the channel, and avoid the bars and shallows, 1 know. I never boast at all. Brag is a good dog, but hold-fast is a better one. I never talk of society 1 never was in, i!or never saw but once, «id tliat by accident. I have too much sense lor that- but I am actilly in the first circles here, quite at SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 27S !0D. rf tin; high nlUc'd viih very much l-ewoU, the dvico. lie • him lately Isc position ^liould have (1 that your I your tha- d at Olio of ive risen to talent. To on, is quite lous. Any always be he moment lets for the pretty avo- .-anity ; but Ltion, there- ke the good je too much lie bars and )d dog, but Iver was in, |e too much re, quite at home in 'era, and in speaking of 'em. I am only talkin' of folks 1 meet every dav, see every dav, and jaw with everv dav. I am part and ])assel of Vm. Now ri^in' sudden here ain't a bit sli-an^er than men risin' with us. it's done every day, f'or the door is wide oix-n hen;; tiie Knglish ain't di)omed to slaml s-tiil an"ngor mills, insiead of being a minis- ter for all the colonies, as he was not lomr iv^i). No, catch me a erackin' and a braggin' for notbiu', and then tell me of it. I'm not a-goin' to a-k every feller I meet, ' Don't 1 look pale ?' like Soloman Figfj, the tailor to St. .John, New IJrunswick — him they called the ' Iron (iod.' " " Oh, oh, Sam!" said Mr. Hopewell, lifting up both hands, "that was very profane; don't tell tju^ story if i .ere's any irreverence in it, any liip]jancy, anything, in short, at all unbecoming. That is not a word to be used in vain." " Oh, never fear, JVIinisler, there is nothin" in the story to shock you ; if there was, I'm not the boy to tell it to any one, much less to you, Sir." " Very well, very well, tell the story then if it's harndess, but leave that word out when you can, that's a good soul !" " Soloman Figg was the crilinr that give' rise to that say in' all over New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, ' Don't I look pale?' and I calculate it never will die there. Whenever they see an imjjortant feller a-struttin' of it by, hi tip-top dress, tryin' to do a bit of tine, or hear a crittur a-braggin' of great men's acquaintance, they jist puts their finger to their nose, gives a wink to one another, and say, ♦ Don't 1 look pale ?' Oh, it's grand ! But I believe I'll begin at the beginnin', and jist tell you both stories about Soloman Figg. ' " Solomon was a tailor, whose tongue ran as fast as his needle, and for sewin'and talkin' perhaps there warn't his equal to be found nowhere. His shop was a great rondivoo for folks to talk [loiitics in, and Soloman was an out-and-out Radical. They are ungrateful skunks are English Radicals, and ingratitude shows a bad heart; and in my opinion to say a feller's a Radical, is as much as to say he's everything that's bad. I'll tell }0U what's observed all over England, that them that make a fortin out of gentlemen, as soon aa they shut up shop turn round, and become Radicals, and oppose them. Radicalism is like that Dutch word Spitzbube. It's every- t\ung bad biled down to a essence. Well, Soloman was a Radical — ■ he was agin the Church, because he had no say in the appoint* 280 THE ATTACllK ; OR, monf of (ho pardon?, ntul c )iil(lirt bnlly tli''ni. lie wns n^!n law* vers *cati-!e tiicv look fvos IVoiu liiiii wIuti lliuy sik U liim. Hg wad R'/w. Ju(l;j;i'8, 'cuiim- 'icy lode their fiiruitM nml (I'lrTt wnlli. Ho was a^in th(! l, lor every do^ has his dav in tliis worhl. U(j.-ponsibl(! i^overnment caiuc, tilings got turned upside down, and Soloniun turned u[), and was nimle a magistrate of. Well, there wa-^ a Carolina ri'i'ngcc, one Captain Nestor liiggs, lived near him, an a^vt'ul ieller to swear, most ->' those lelugee^ werj so, and ho feared neither God nor man. " lie was a sneezer i.l'a sinner was Ca|!tain Nestor, and always in law lor everlastiii'. He spent his whole pension in Court, iblks said. Nestor we:ii io Solonan, and told him to issue a writ agin a man. It wa.s Solomau'a first writ, so says he to himself, ' I'll write iiist atbre I sue; writin's civil, and then 1 can charge for htter and writ too, uiii I'm always civil when I'm paid ibr it. Mothe did riglit to call me S)loman, didn't she?' AVell, he wrote the let cr, and the man that got h din't know what under the sun to make of it. This wa-* the letter — "'bu, if vvnj do not return to Captain Nestor Biggs, the Iron God of his, now in your possession, I shall sue you. Pos is the word. (liven under my hand, Soloman Figg, one of her most gracious Majesty's Justices of the Peace in and for the County of St. John. " Radicals are great hands for all the honors themselves, tho' they won't ginn none to others. ' Well,* sais the man to him.self, ' wdiat on airth does this mean ?' So oli' he goes to the church parson to read it for him. " ' Dear me,' sais he, ' this is awful ; what is this ? I by itself^ I-r-o-n — Iron, G-o-d — God. Yes, it is Iron God I — Have you got such a graven image ?' " Me,' sais the man, ' No : I never heard of such a thing.' " ' Dear, dear,' sais the parson, ' I always knew the captain was a wicked man, a horrid wicked man, but I didn't think he was an idolater. I thought he was too sinful to worship anything, even an iron idol. What times we li"e in, let's go to the Captain.' " Well, off they sot to the Captain, and when he heerd of this graven image, he swore and raved — so the parson put a finger in each ear, and ran round the room, screamin' like a stuck pig. ' I'll tell you what it is, old boy,' says the Captain, arippin' out soiue most awful smashei'S 'if }<..; go on kickin' up such a row here, I'll stop SAM RT.Ii'K IN KXr.L.VN'P. 281 il Iiiin. Hq '. Wiuk. Ha a.sk liiin to i('iuly-inad(! ie was a;:: in ily p;<)Oil rea« jrytliing "uitl IS lii.s (lav in LinuMl upsulo ite of. Well, .s, lived near i-j so, and lie lid ahvays in I't, folks suid. agin a man. 11 write i'list ttor and writ did right to er, and the of it. This g.s, the Iron Pod is the )f her most County of es, tho' they ;lf, 'what I parson to I by itsell^ Live you got ing. iptain was a he was an ng, even an !erd of this a tinger in c pig. ' I'll t some mosi re, I'll stop your wind for you doiililc-qiiick, ^o no nnimmory, if yon ijlr.ise. Com • along with me to that scoinidrcl. Solomon Figg. and I'li make him go down on his kmcs, and hcg paitloii. Wliat the devil does he ineai. hy talkin' of iron idols, I want to know.' •' Well, they went into Soloman's house, and Soloman, who wa.s sittin' straddle-legs on a counter, a sewin' away for dear life, jumps down in a minit' ons>hoes and eoat, and shows \'.m into his oilice, whii'li was jist opposite to his shop. ' Head that, Sii-,' sais the Cap- tain, lookin' as lierce as a tiger; ' scoundrel ! did you write; tliat and reads it all over, and then owl. * Its all right,' ian, ' they do spell alike, too, don't they; they are the identical samt; letters G-o-d, dog; I have spelt it backwards, that's all; it's i! e iron dog, Captain; you know what that is — don't you. Squire : if is an iron wedge sharped at one eend, and bavin' a ring in it at t'o !icr. It's drove into the but eend of a log, an' a chain is hooked to the ring, and the cattle drag the log eend-ways by it on the ground ; it is called an iron dog.' Oh, how the Captain swore 1" " Well," sa'd the jVIinister, " never mind repeating his oaths ; he must have been an ignorant magistrate indeed not to be able to spell dog." *• He was a Radical magistrate of the Jack Frost school, Sii*," said Mr. Slick. "The Liberals have made magistrates to England not fi bit better ncr Soloman, I can tell you. Well, they always called him arter that the Iron G ." "Never mind what they called him," said Mr. Hopewell; "but what is the f tory of looking pale, for there is a kind of something in that last one that I don't extictly like ? There are words in it that shock me ; if you could tell the story without them, it is not a bad story; tell us the other part." " Well, you know, as I was a sayin', when I'esponsible government came to the Colonies, it was like flie Ileform bile to ItLnglaiid, stir- ring n[) the pot, and a settin' all a fermentin', set a good deal of scum a lioatin' on the top of it. Among the rest, Soloman, being light and frothy, was about as buoyant as any. When the House of Assembly met to Fredericton, up goes Soloman, and writes his name on the book at Government House — Soloman Figg, J. P. Down comes the Sargeant with a card, quick as wink, lor the Gov- ernor's bail that night. Soloman waru't a bad lookin' feller at all ; v>, ^>. i^-^.vs IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 1.1 |28 I4i ■ 50 Li 1^ 12.0 1.8 1-25 III (.4 1.6 6" ► I'lVv . Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14980 (716; 872-4503 o '/"' i \ \ 282 THE ATTACIlf ; OB, and bcin' a tailor, in course he had his clothes well made ; and, take him altogether, he was jist a Icetle nearer llie notch than one half of" the members was, for most on 'em was I'rom the country, and looked a nation sigljt more like Caraboos than legislators ; indeed the nobs about Fredericton always call them Caraboos. '• Wt'll, his tongue wagged about tlie limberest you ever see ; his head was turned, so he talked to every one ; and at supi)er he eat and drank as if he never see viltals afore since he was weaned. lie made a great night of it. Our Consul told me he thought he should have died a larfin' to see him : he talked about tlie skirts of the coun- try, and the fork of the river, and button-hole connections, and linin' his stomach well, and basting tlie Yankees, and everything but cab- baging. No man ever hecyd a tailor use that word, any more than they ever see a Jew cat pork. Oh ! he had a reg'lar lark of it, and his tongue ran like a mill-wheel, whirlin' and sputterin' like anythin'. The oliicers of the regiment that was stationed there took him for a Member of Assembly, and seein' he was a character, had him up to the mess to dine next day. " iSoloman was as amazed as if he was jist born. ' Heavens and airth !' said he, ' responsible government is a great thin' too, ain't it. Here am I to Government House with all the big bugs and their ladies, and upper crust folks, as free and easy f^s an old glove. To- day I dine with the officers of regiment, the most aristocratic regiment we ever had in the Province. 1 wish my father had put me into the army; I'd rather wear a red coat than*make one any time. One thing is certain, if responsible government lasts long, we shall all rise to be gentlemen, or else all gentlemen must come down to the level of tailors, and no mistake ; one coat will fit both. Dinin' at a mess, eh ! AVell, why not .'' I can make as good a coat as Buckmaster any day.' " Well, Soloman was rather darnted at fust by the number of sar- vants, and the blaze of uniform coats, and the horrid dillicult cook- ery ; but champagne strengthened his eyesight, for every one took wine with him, till he saw so clear he strained his eyes ; for they grew weaker and weaker arter tlie right focus was passed, till he saw things double. Arter dinner they adjourned into the barrack-room of one of the officers, and there tRey had a game of* Here comes I, Jack upon hips.' " The youngsters put Soloman, who had a famous long back, jist at the right distance, and then managed to jimip jist so as -o come right on him, and tliey all jumped on him, and down he'd smash with the weight; then they'd banter him for not beiu' game, place him up agin in line, jump on him, and smash him down agin till he could hold out no longer. Then came hot whisky toddy, and some screech- m' songs ; and Soloman sung, and the officers went into fits, for ho 6ung such splendid songs ; and thea hb health was di'unk# and Solo* made ; and, take !h than one half he country, and i;isIators ; indeed 30S. an ever sec ; his at supper lie eat as weaned. He lOiight he should iii'ts of the coun- ctions, and Ihiin' r} thuig hut cab- , any more than r lark of it, and in'likeanythin'. there took him iracter, had him ' Heavens and liin' too, ain't it. bugs and their aid glove. To- iio.-t aristocratic fiitiier had put make one any la^^ts long, we mst come down both. Dinin' :ood a coat as number of sar- dillicult cook- very one took eyes ; for they ed, till he saw barrack-room Here comes I, long back, jist !-o as !o come ;'d smash with le, place him n till he could some screech- ito fits, for he nk#and Solo* SA^I SLICK IN ENGLAXD. 283 man made a speech. He said, tho' he had a ' stitcK in the side from laughin,' and was * setved up' a'niost too much to speak, and was atVaid he'd ^rip out' what he hadn't ought, yet their kindness had ^tird' him as Avitli ^It'st' to them for ' the re?«?«a?i<' of his life, and years would never '•sponge' it out of his heart. " They roared and cheered him so, a kinder confused him, for he couldn't recollect nothin' arter that, nor how he got to the inn ; but the waiter told him four sodgers carried him in on a shutter. Next dav, off Sciloman started in tin; steam-boat for St. John. The olfi- cers had took him for a ^Member of Assembly, and axed him jist to take a I'ise out of him. When they larned the mistake, and thrt it was rea(ly-mad(! Figg, the tailor, they had been makin' free with, they didn't think it was half so good a joke as it was afore; for they seed one half of the lorf was aible, endeavor to extract the mischievous part Irom every mea-ure. They are, therefore, generally httrniless, and are allowed to "o JVt large, and there hiwo bee o^' :n successive genera- tions of them lor centuries. JSonietimes they become dangerous, and then the board of delegates pass a vote of 'want of confidence' in cmoved, and other imbeciles are substituted same course of treatment is pursued." them, and they are all ill their place, when the SAM SUCK IX ENGLAND, 2»5 been axed by lon't be afcoril, I go atnoiij? tb'j t day, say in' to \ this tour of in- iiipruishecl pbysi- After leaving lori.-t, said there us, but declined ic \v'i?hed to sur- 1 by some vague vheu he suddeuly the entranee of a ation has devoted u engrossed dur- d)or under mouo- Ives to be govern- s('o\ ered is, to in- form a eoursc of en tbr the ex[)res3 ng as it appears \ means of earry- [led with subordi- re always in their isiness ; the board ulge them in their mischievous i)art [illy harmless, and successive geiiera- uie dangerous, and It of coutidence' in les are substituted is pursued." " Is a euro often effected ?" said Mr. Ilopeuell. ''Not very often," said the D()(rtor; "they are considered as the most dillicnlt to cure of any insaiK; people, politics having so much of excitement in them; but now and then you hear of a man being perfectly restored to health, abandoning his ruling passion of politics, and returning to his family, and d(;voting himself to rural or to liter- ary pursuits, an oriiiunent to so(!iety, or a patron to its institutions. Lately, the whole of tin; inmates became so dangerous, from some annoyances they received, that the whole country was alarmed, and cyi.'vy one of them was removed from the buildings. " In tl.i.-. Asylum, it has been found that harsh treatment only aggravates the disease. Compliance with the whim of patients soothes and calms the mind, and diminishes the nervous excitement Lord Glencoe, for instance, was here not long since, and imagined he was governing all the colonies. Constant indulgence very soon operated on his brain like a narcotic ; he- slept nearly all the time, and when he awoke, his attendant, who alFected to be first clerk, used to lay before him despatches, which he persuaded him he had written himself, and gravely asked him to sign them : he was very soon pei-mitted to be freed from all restraint. Lord Palmerstaff imagined himself the admiration of all the women in town, he called himself Cupid, spent half the day in bed, ar.d the other half at his toilet; wrote all night about Syria, Boundary line, and such matters; or else walked up and down the room, conning over a speech for Parliament, which he said was to be delivered at the end of the session. Lord Wallgrave fancied he was the devil, and that the Church and the Bench were conspiring against him, and punishing liis dearest friends and siipi)orters, so he was all day writing out pardons for felons, orders tor opening jails, and retaining prisoners, or devising schemes for abolishing parsons, making one bishop do the work of two, and so on. Lord M " Here, the words " Downing Street " caught my eye, as designating the place we wer(i in, which 1 need not say contains the government otHces, and, among others, the Colonial Oliice. " This," 1 said, " is very well for you, Dr. Spun, as an American, to sport as a joke, but it is dangerous ground for me, as a colonist and a loyal man, and, therefore, if you please, we will drop the allegory. If you apply your remark to all government oHices, in all countries, there may be some truth in it, for 1 believe all politicians to be more or less either 80 warped by party feeling, by seltislmess, or prejudices, that their minds are not altogether truly balanced; but 1 must protest against its restriction to the English government alone, as distinguished from otlicrs." " 1 know nothing about any of their olUces," said Mr. Hopewell, ** but the Colonial otlice ; and that certainly requires re-construction. The interests of the colonics are too vast, too various, and too com< NTJ 286 THE ATTACIlfe; OIV j)lioatocl, to bo intrnsfod to any ono man, liowover transoendant lu3 nl)ilit\ y, ov^ |)('r-'('V(M-iii<; Ins mdir-try, or <'\U'ii-.ive liis 9 i I i I 0^ inibnnation may be/ Upon tli(> sudden dissolution ol'a j^overnnieut, a now colo* nial tnini-ter is appointed : in most eases, lie lias everything to learn, baviii'jr never bad his attention drawn to this branch of public bnsiiios, durin;;' the previous part of his politieal life ; if this happens unfortunately to be the case, he never can acquire a thorough know- ledge of his d-'partmcjit, for during the whole of his continuance in oHice, his attention is distracted by various government measures of a geneial nature, which require the attention of the whole cabinet. The sole qualitication that now exists for this high ollice is parlia- mentary intiuence, talent, and habits of business; but none of them separately, nor all of them collectively, are suilicient. Personal and practical ex[)erience lor a series ol years, of the people, and the affairs of the colonies, is absolutely indis])ensable to a successful dis- charge of duty. " How many persons who have held this high ollice ^vere either too indolent to work themselves, or too busy to attend to their duties, or too weak, or too wild in their theories, to be entrusted with such heavy responsibilities? Many, when they acted for themselves, have acted wrong, from these causes ; and when they allowed others to act for them, have raised a subordinate to be a head of the olhce ■whom no other persons in the kingdom or the colonies but them- selves would have entrusted with such important matters : it is, therefore, a choice of evils ; colonists have either to lament a hasty or erroneous decision of a principal, or submit to the dictation of un upper clerk, whose talents, or whose acquirements are perhaps much below that of both contending parties, whose interests are to be bound by his decision." " How would you reipc'dy this evil?" I said, ibr it was a subject in which 1 telt deei)ly interested, and one on which I knew he was the most conqjetent man living to oiler advice. t— " Every board," he said, " must have a head, and, according to ^f the structure of the machinery of this government, 1 would still have a 8ecr(!tary of State lor the Colonies ; but instead of under secre- taries, 1 would substitute a board of control, or council, which- ever board best suited, of which board he should be ex-ojficio Presi- dent. It is thought nee(^ssary, even in a colony, where a man can both hear, and see, and judge lor himself, to surround a governor with a council, how much more necessaiy is it to alibrd that assist- ance to ti man who never saw a colony, and, until he accepted olfice, probably ne\er heard of half of them, or if he has heard of ihem, is not (^uilc certain even as to their geographic situation.^ It is natural that this obvious necessity should not have j)iesented itself to a minister before : it is a restraint on pcwer, and thjretbre not accept- able, lie is not willing to trust his governors, and therefore gives i ■ i C SAM SLICK IX ENGLAND. 287 ransoendant hi3 his intbnniUion ent, a new colo i-ytliiiig to learn, ranch of i)ublic ; if this happens thoroiigli iiuovv- s continuance in ent measures of e whole cabinet. li otlice is parlia- )ut none of them t. Personal and 1 people, and the a successful dis- )nice were either id to their duties, trusted with such for themselves, jy allowed others head of the olHce olonies but them- it matters : it is, to lament a hasty- he dictation of an ire perha[is much ;ex-ests are to be r it was a subject h I knew he was and, according to 1 would still have id of under secre- r council, which- e ex-ojicio Tresi- where a man can •round a governor utlbrd that a^sist- he accepted olFice, i iicard of liiem, is ion./ it is natural jsented itself to a refore not accept- nd therefore gives them a council; ho is then imwilling to trust both, and reserves tl>e right to approve or reject their acts in certain cases. Jle thinks i/i If uiH nieonipelent ; but wlio v\i;\' sii)i])OskI he was competent the n'sidfciil governor, aided by the be.-t and wisest heads in a colony, advised, checked, and sountled by local public op-inion, is not e(pial to the task, how can a Lancashire or Devonshire member of Par- liament be? Ask the weak or the vain, or the sonniolent ones, •whom 1 need not mention by name, and they will severally tell you it is the easiest thing in the world ; we understand the principles, and our und(;r secretaries understand the details ; the only ditliculty vc have is in ihe ignorance, j)rejudice, and rascality of colonists themselves. Go and ask the present man, who is the most able, tl'.o most intelligent, the most laborious and elo(juent one of them all, if there is any dilliculty in the task to a person who sedulously strives to understand, and honestly endeavors to remedy colonial ditliculties, and hear what he will tell you. " ' How cjin you ask me that question. Sir ? When did you ever call and liud me absent iVoin my i)Ost? Read my despatches, and you ■will see whether 1 work ; study them, and you will see whether I understand. 1 may not always judge rightly, but I endeavor always to judge honestly. You inquire whether there is any dilliculty in the task. Can you look in my face and ask that question ? Look at my care-worn brow, my hectic eye, my attenuated frame, my pallid face, and my ])remature age, and let them answer you. Sir, the labor is too great lor any one man : the task is Herculean, Ambition may inspire, and fame may reward ; but it is death alone that weaves the laurel round the brow of a successful colonial minister.' " No, my good friend, it cannot be. Ko man can do the work. If he attempts it, he must do it badly; if he delegates it, it were better left undone : there should be a board of control or council. N^'his board should consist in pjirt of ex-governors and colonial olli- cers of Kngli.>h appointment, and in part of retired members of as- Bfcmbly or legislative councillors, or judges, or secretaries, or other similar functionaries, being nutice colonists. All of them should have served in public life a certain number of years, and all should be«men \\ho have stood high in public estimation, not as poj)ular men (for that is no test), but lor integrity, ability, and knowledge of the world. /AVitli such a council, so constituted, and so composed, you would never hear of a Governor-General dictating the des- patches that were to be sent to him, as is genei'ally reported in Canada, with or wTthoiit Ibundatiun, of Poulett Thompson. One of Ihe best governed counti'ies in the world is India ; but India is iiol; governed in Downing Street. IJefore responsible government can be introduced there, it must receive the approbation of practical men, converiiunt with the country, deeply interested in its welfare, 1 i i / 11 i 288 THE ATTACHE; OR, and perfectly compotont to jiulpjc of its merits. India is safe from experiment-*; T wjsii you were equally secure. Wiiile your local politicians distract tlie attention of the public with their personal squabbles, all these important matters are lost sij^ht of, or rather are carefully ke|)t out of view. Tlie only voice that is now heard is on(! that is raised to mislead, and not to inlbrm; to comphiin witli- out truth, to demand without right, and to obstruct without principle. Yes, you want a board of control. Were tliis once establislied, instead of havinj^ an office in Downing Street for the Secretary of State for the Colonies, which is all you now have, you would possess in reality what you now have nominally — *a Colonial Office.' " CHAPTER LI. BARNEY OXMAN AND THE DEVIL. The manner and conduct of Colonel Slick has been so eccentric, luat for several days past I have had some apprehensions that he v» as not altogether compos mentis. His spirits have been exceeding- ly unequal, being at times much exhilarated, and then subject to a corresponding depression. To-day, I asked his son if he knew what had brought him to England, but he was wholly at a loss, and evidently very anxious about him. " I don't know," he said, " what onder the sun fetched him here. I never heered a word of it till about a week afore he arrived. I tht thing in nntur' for it. The old catamount was right for oneet in her life, as it cured me of th<' ihenmatiz ; but it cund me of gin, too. I don't think 1 could drink it any more for thinkin' of the iiorrid brimstone. It was a little lh(^ nastiest dose 1 ever took; still it's worth knowin'. I like simples better nor doctors' means any day. Sal made a hundred dolhirs by \wr bees, and three hundred dollars by her i^llk-worms, this year. It aint't so coarse that, is it ? Hut Sal is a good girl, too good for that cussed idle fellow, .Tim JNIunroc. What a fool I was to cut him down that time he got hung by the leg in the moose- , trap you sot for him, warn't 1 ? There is nothin' new here, except them almighty villains, the Loco Focos, have carried their man for governor ; but this you will see by the papers. The wonder is what I'm going to England for ; but that is my business, and not theirn. I can scjuat low and say nothin' as well as any one. A crittur that goes blartin' out all be knows to every one ain't a man in no sense of the word. If you haven't nothin' above partikelar to do, I s'oould like you to meet me at Liverpool about the loth of next month that is to be, as I shall feel considerable scary when I first land, seein' that I never was to England afore, and never could cleverly find riy way about a large town at no time. If all eventuates right, €ind turns out well, it will sartinly be the making of the Slick family, stock, lock, and barrel, that's a fact. I most,, forgot to tell you about old Varginy, sister of your old Clay. I depend my life on that raare. You can't ditto her nowhere. There actilly ain't a beast fit to be named on the same day with her in all this county. Well, V.arginy got a most monstrous fit of tlie botts. If she didn't stamjt and bite her sides, and sweat all over Hke Statiee, it's a pity. She went most ravin' distracted mad with pain, : nd I actilly thought I'd a-lost her, she was so bad. Barney Oxnit i vas here at the time, and sais he, * I'll cure her, Colonel, if you will leave it to me.' ' Well,' sais I, * do what you please, only I wish you'd shoot the poor crittur to pqt her out of pain, \oT I believe her latter eend has come, that's a fact.' W^ell, what does he do, but goes and gets half a pint of hardwood ashes and pours on to it a pint of vinegar, opens Varginy's mouth, holds on to her tongue, and puts the nose of the bottle in ; and I hope I may never live another blessed minit, if it didn't slioot itself right off down her throat. Talk of a beer bottle bustin' it's cork, and walkin' out quick stick, why, it ain't the smallest part of a circumstance to it. "*It cured her. If it warn't an active dose, then physic ain't medecine, that's all. It made the botts lose their hold in no time. It was a wonder to behold. I beli(;ve it wouldn't be a bad thing for a man in the cholera, for that ain't a bit wuss than botts, and nothin' in natur' can stand that dose — I ain't sure it wouldn't bust a byler. If I had my way, I'd physic them 'cussed Loco Focos with it ; it 13 290 TIIK ATT.\CIli!j; OK, I ■■ ■I I L would drive tlio dovil oTit of fluMn, ix^ diownin' did out of Ihn swine tlmt wjis j)osscs.«t'(l. I raised my tiinii').-; last Acar in my <'orn-iiill.s at second liot-iii;^ ; it saved labor, land, aixl lime, and was all dear jrain : it wvrn't a had notion, was it ? Tlie S(fnasji Hank lias failed. 1 was wide awak(! for them; 1 kiiowed it w«uild. so I drawed out all I had there, and kept tlu; balance a;.^in nie. 1 can l>ny their |)a|)er ten cents to the? dollar to pay with. 1 hope; you have iiothin' in the iXMisarn. I will tell you all other news when we meet, (live my respects to Gineral Wellington, Victoria Queen, Mr. Everett, and ill inquiring friends. ♦' ' Your affectionate Father, "'S. SivicK, Lieut. Col.'" '' There it is," said Mr. Slick. '' lie has got some crotchet or another in his head, but what the Lord only knows. To-day, seein' he was considerable up in the stirrups, I axed him plain what it ac- tilly was that fetched him here. He turned right roimd fierce on me, and eyein' me all over, scorny like, he said, " The Great West- crh, Sam, a tight good vessel, Sam-^it was that fetched me over; and now you have got your answer, let me give you a piece of ad- vice : — Ax me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.' And he put on his hat, and walked out of the room." " Old men," I said, '' love to be mysterious. lie probably came over to see you, to enjoy the spectacle of his son moving in a society to which he never could have aspired in his most visionary and cas- tle-building days. To conceal this natural feeling, he affects a secret. Dep<'nd upon it, it is merely to pique your curiosity." " It may be so," s:^aid Mr. Slick, shaking his head, incredu- lously ; " it uiay be so, but he ain't a man to pretend nothin', is father." In order to change the conversation, which was too personal to be agreeable, I asked him what that story of wrastling with the evil one was, to which his father hinted in his ietter. " Oh, wrastling with the evil one, ' says he, it ain't a bad story that ; didn't I ever tell you that frolic of ' Barney Oxman and the devil ?' *' Well, there lived an old woman some years ago at Musquash Creek, m South Carolinji, that had a large fortin' and an only dar- ter. She v.as a widler, a miser, and a dnnker. She was very good, snii very cross, ;is many riglileons folks are, and had a loose tongue j'.nd a tight puss of her own. All the men that looked at h(.'r darter she thought had an eye to her money, and she warn't far out o' the way nolher, for it seems as if beauty and money was too nuu'h to go together in a general way. llich galls and handsome galls are sel- dom good for nothin' else but their cash or tiieir looks. Pears and peaches ain't often found ou the same tiee, I tell you. She lived BAM SUCK IN ENGLAND. 201 out of tho ?wine ill my coni-liillH 1(1 was all dear liank U;\-^ lailcd. I tlruwcd out uli \n\y tlitir paper ve nothijj' in the lut'ot. (liv(! my Jr. Everett, and , Lieut. Col.'" lome crotchet or . To-day, seein' plain what it ac- t round fierce on rhe Great West- fetched me over ; on a piece of ad- ,es.' And he put [c probably came oving in a society visionary and cas- le atiects a secret. head, incredu- tretend nothin', is too personal to be ing with the evil ain't a bad story y Oxman and the ago at Musquash ' and an only dar- ihe was very good, had a loose tongue ()Ue«M \i 293 TnU ATTACH^; OK, oncet or twicn rnmo plnjriiy nenr ontoliinpf of tliem. So vf Imt tloei lijU'uey do, but takes two iii;x;rt'i's with liiin when Ik; fioos iirler tliat, and k'uvt's tliem on tlic rool, iiiul I'astciis u lar^c l)u>ki't to the rope, and tolls them iftliey leel tin; rope pulled to lioist away for diar lite, but not to .'-peak a word for the world. Well, one ni;^ht thu ulM wouuiii eaine to the door as usual, and >^ais, ' Jerusha,' ^ .ys she 'what on nirth nils y(»u, to nuike you t^it up all nihe pulled to get awaj, and they had a most reg'lar wrastle as they sat on the bench, when, as luck would have it, over went the bench, and down went both on 'em on the floor with an, awful smash, and in bounced the old woman — ' Which is uppermost?' sais she ; — ' Have you throw'd Satan, or has Satan throw'd you ? Speak, Uushy ; speak dear ; who's throw'd?' 'I have throwd him,' sais her darter; 'and 1 hope I have broke his neck, he acted so.' ' Come to bed, then,' sais she, ' darling, and be thankful ; say a i)rayer backward, and' — jist then the old woinan was seized round the waist, hoisted through the trap- door .to the roof, and from there to the top of the crane, where tlie basket stopped, and the tirst thing she know'd she was away up ever so far in the air, swingin' in a large basket, and no soul near her. " liarney and his niggers cut siicli double quick, crept into the bushes, and went all round to the road in front of the house, just as day was breakin'. Tlie old woman was then singin' out for dear life, kickin', and squealin', and cryin', and prayin', all in one, pro- perly frightened. Down runs liarney as hard as he could clip, lookin' as innocent as if he'd never heerd nothin* of it, and pertendin' to be horrid Irightened, oHers his services, climbs up, releases the old woman, and gets blessed and thanked, and thanked and blessed till he was tired of it. ' OU !' says the old woman, ' Mr. Oxman, the moment Jerusha throwed the evil one, the house shook like an airth* ^uake, and as I entered the room he seized me, put me into a bos* SAM SLICK IS ENGLAM1. 298 n. So vf hat tloei u? {joe,"< luMcr tliiil, )ii>kc'l to tli<5 rope, jiwuy lor 'lt:ir lite, one'i»i«lkt the oif\ LMMIsllJl,' ^ <)'^ *''° i«j;ht tliut wuy ; Uc ; says -he, • I am ly.' ' ' Deiir, dear,' n to htivt; throweU •e it \4),or lie may ' It's always the — ' it's always pre- let^o? Oil, dear I jeen sorely exerci- he had to put his ill a way that didn't ler he larfed so ho a way that looked pulled to get awaj, >n the bench, when, down went both on iced the old woman I throw'd Satan, or leak dear ; who's iv; 'and 1 hope I led, then,' tsais she, id, and'— jist then d through the trap- f the crane, where w'd she was away jasket, and no soul lick, crept into the f the house, just as singin' out lor dear in', all in one, pro- l ad he could clip, of it, and pertendin' up, releases the old .ed and blessed till 'Mr. Oxman, the shook like an airth- put me into a baa* > kef, and flew off Avitli mo. Oh. I shall never forgot his fiery eye- ^all"^, uiid the horrid sint'll of l)riin«t(Mii' In; liinl!* "'Had he a elovcn foot, and a loii'' tail?* sain liarnev. *I couMn't fii'O in the dark,' sai.s she, 'but his claw-t M'cn' awful sharp; oh, how they diij; into my rib^! it (j'eii a niost took tin; Ihsli otf — oh, di'ar ! liOi-d have men-y (»ii uh! I hope he is laid in the Red Sea, now.' 'Tell you what it is, amity,' sais IJarney, 'that's an awful Btory, keep it secret I'or your lift;; folks nii^rht my the house was harnted — that you was po>s«'ssed, and that ilenisby was in lea.iiuo with the evil one. Don't so niiich as lisp a syllable of it to a livin' sinner breathin'; keep the secret and I will help you.' "The hint t(jok, the old woman had no wish to be burnt or drown'd lor a wileltl and the moiiivnt a fdlcr has a woinins secret h« is that wonuni's master. He was inviied there, stayed there, and married there; but the old woman never, know'd who the 'evil one' was, and always tlion;?ht till her dyin' day it was old Scratch him- self. Alter her death they didn't keep it secret no l.)iip'er; and many a jjood laugh has there been at the story of Barney Oxman and the devil." CHAPTER LI I. II E V t; D I A T I O X During the last week I went into Gloiieestershiro, for the pur- pose of visiting an old and much valued frit nd, who resiiUfs near Cirencester. In the car there were two gcnilenieii, both of whom were strar.gers to me, but we soon entered into conveivalion. One of them, upon ascertaining where I was from, made many anxious inquiries as to the pi'obability of the Uepudiating States ever repay- ing the money that had been lent to them by this country. He said he hail been a great suHerer himself, but what he regretted much more than his own loss was, that he had been instrumental in indu- cing sevLial of his friends to invest largely in that sort of stock. I told him I Mas unable to answer the ({uc-iion, ;'.ot!gh I thought the l)i'osi)ect lalher gloomy ; that if, however, he was desii'ous of procu- ring accurate information, 1 could eauly obtain it for him, as the celebrated Mr. Sliek, and a vory (li.-tinguihcd American cler- gyman, were now in J^iondon, to whom 1 wouUl a[tply oa the subject. "Mr. Slick!" he said, with much surprise, "is there, then, really 3ich a person as Sam Slick ? I always thought it a lictitious 294 THE ATTACHB; or, character, although the man is drawn so naturally, I have never been able to divest myself of some doubts as to his reality." * "There is," I said, ".s«c/i a man as Mr. Slick, and .-ucli a man as Mr. liopaxoell, although tho?e ih-e not their real names; 1 kiiou' the persons well. The author has drawn tiiem from life. Most of tlie anecdotes in those books called ' The Oockmaker,' and * Attachr, art; real ones. The travelling j)arts of them are fictitious, and intro- duced merely as threads to string the conversations on, wliile the reasoning and humorous parts are only such as bolli tlio-^e persons are daily in the habit of ting, "or would hav(; uttered if the topics were stai'ted in their presenco. Both are re il characters ; both have sat ibr their likeness, and those who know the originals as I do, are struck with the tidelity of the portraits. # " 1 have often been asked the (picv-^tion before," I said, " if there really was such a man as 'jSani 8!ick,' and the author assures me ihat that, circumstance, which has frecpiently occurred to him also, he con.->iders the greatest compliment tiiut can been paid to his work, and that it is one of the reasons why there have been so many con- tinuations of it." \lle then asked my opinion as to the ballot; and I ridiculed it in no measured terms, as every man of experience does oti both sides of the water; expressed a hope that it might never be introduc(!d into England, to the chai-acter and feelings of whose inhabitants it was to nnich opposed; and bestowed on its abettors in this country some very strong epithets, denoting my contempt, both for their [)r!n- ciples and their understanding. / At IJath he left us, and when the train proceeded, the other gen- tleman asked me if 1 knew who he was with whom I had been con- versing, and on my replying in the negative, ho said he took it lor granted 1 did not, or 1 would have been more giiai'decl in my language, and that he was delighted I had not known liini, otherwise lie would have lost a lesson which he hoped would do him good. " That man, Sir," said he, " is one of the great advocates of tin; ballot here; and with the leaders of the party, has investeil large sums of money in these State Stocks of which he was iiKpiiring. They thougiit their money must be tafe in a country that had vote by ballot — tor that they conceived to be a remedy ibr all cviis. In my opinion, vote by ballot, or rather universal suffrage, another of his favorite hobbies, is one of the reasons why they have lo-l, it. lie is one of those persons to whom you are indebted for the llepubli- canism lately introduced into your Colonial constitutions. '* At tlie time Lord Durham vi.-ited Canada, the United States were swarming with hdjorers, cutting canals, constructing railways, opening coal mines, building towns, and forming roiuls. In every- thing was life and motion ; for English capital was flowing rapidly r, I have never ■eal'rty." ' 1 ^iu;li a man as es ; 1 know the e. Most of tlie and ' Attaclu's tious, and intro- s on, while the h tho^e peiv-^ons ;rcd if the topics "Aers ; both have lals as 1 do, are [ said, " if there ihor assures nie red to him also, )aid to liis work, 'A\ so many con- I ridiculed it in jes on both sides L:r be introduced so iidiabitants it i in this country th for their prin- 1, the other gen- I had been eor.- said he took it lore jriiarded in lot known liini, loped would do advocates of tin; invested large, e was inipnring. ry that had vot«3 or all evils. In age, another of have lo-Lit. Ho for the Republi- tions. United States ructing railways, jads. In every- ilowing rapidly SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 205 i( thither under one delusion or another for investment, and had given ..n unnatural stimulus to every branch of industry, and every scheme of speculation : while in Canada, wtiieh was in a healthy anc sound condition, all these things were in no greater progress than the ordinary wants of the countiy required, or the ordinary means of the people could afford. ''The" moment these visionary and insane reformers saw this con- trast, instead of deploring, as all goov ballot, resj)onsible government and annual elections, and a IJritisU colony with a cumbrous English constiiution. One is all lire, the otiier all torpor. One enjoys a rapid circulation that reachc:; to every extremity, the other sutiers under a feeble pulsation barely sullicient to sujjport lite, liead in this a lesson on tree institutions, and doubt who can.' " Having talked this nonsense for a long time, they began at last, like all creilulous and weak people, to believe it themselves, and invested their money, for which they had no other but their favorite security, vote l>y ballot. How much is the security worth ? — It is worth a thousand arguments, and will be comprehended, even by those who cannot ap^jreciate the -wit or feel the foj-ce of the rea- iioning o)i Sydney Smith. But I believe we part at this statioiu Good bye ! Sir. I am happy to have had the pleasure of Juaking your acquaintance." On my return to London, I took occasion one evening, when ]Mr. Slick and Mr. Hopewell wez'e present, to relate this anecdote; and, turning to the former, asked him whatprospOot he thought there was of these *M-epudiated debts" being paid. To my surpri.-e he did rot answer, and 1 at once peiceived he was in a " brown study." Though he had not heard what I said, however, he found there v\as a cessa- tion of talk, and turning to me with an absent air, and tv, irling his moustache between his forefinger and thumb, he said, " Can you tell me what a (jager) yaw-g-her is ':" I said, "It is a German word, and signifies a hunter. In the revo- lutionary war there was a regiment called //a gers." "Ah," said he, " it's a beautiful dress they wear — very becoming — very rich, ile and the tocdolager dined with one of the royal dukes lately, and he had several in attendance, as servants — d'^vilish liand:-oine lellows th(y are loo — I'me sorry 1 made that mistake, though — i;ovv nuich tiiey look like otlicers and gentlemen — cussed •iwkwurd that em-vaugiier — eh I — I don't know whether it's worth 'ai'iiia' ai-ter ail — hem'" uud was again abstracted. i ! , i fill ' i I '■ f t ! I ! I THE aitache; or, Mr. Hopewell looked at him with great concern, drew a long sigh, and shook his head, as if much distnjssed at his behavior. I renewed my inquiry, liiid put the same question to tlie Minister. " Squire," he said, mourutully, " tliat is a itainl'ul subject eitlier to contemplate or to talk upon. Wliat tliey ought to do as honest men, tbcre can be no doubt ; what tliey will do is less ceriain. 1 have read the correspondence between one of our citizens and Sydney Smith. Those letters of Mr. Smith, or rather Smith I shoukl say — for he is too celebrated a man for the appellation of "Mr." — will do more g(K)d in America than a tleet, or an ainbassailor, or evim re{)ri- sals. We cannot stand ridicule — we are sensitively alive to Euro- pean opinion, and tlu;se letters admit of but one answer — and that is, 'payment. An American is wrong in thinking of resorting to the pen. Repudiation cannot be juslitied — no, not even palliated. It is not insolvency, or misfortune, or temporary embariassment, that is pleaded — it is a refusal to pay, and a refusal to pay a just debt, in public or private lii'e, is — mince it as you will — dis/ioncst. If the aged and iiifirm, the widow and the orphan, recover their just debts, and are restored once more to the comfort they have lost, they must never forget they are indebted to Sydney Smith for it. " It is the lirst plunge that shocks the nerves. Men who have so little honor as to re})udiate a debt, have altogether too little to retract their words and be honest. But if by repudiating, they lose more than the amount they withhold, a sordid motive may induce them to do that which a sense of right is unable to etl'ect. Smith has put those States on their trial in Europe. If they do not pay, their cre- dit and their character are gone lor ever. If they do pay, but not till then, I will furnish them with the only extenuation their conduct is susceptible of." " And pray what is thtrt ?" I said. He replied, •' I would reason this way ; it is unfair to condemn the American people, .'is a nation, for the acts of a few States, or to pun- ish a whole country ibr the fraudulent conduct of a part of the peo- ple. Every honest and right-minded man in our country deplores and condemns this act, as nmch as every person of the same descrip- tion does in Europe. When we speak of American or English honor, we i-pcak of the same thing ; but v.hen we speak of the honor of the American people, aujJ of the English people, we speak of two different things, because the word people is not used in the same sense ; in one case it is understood in a restricted ibrm, and in the otlier in its most extensive signilication. When we speak of the honor of an European, we don't mean the honor of a chimney- sweeper, or street-scraper, or cabman, or coal-heaver, or hodman, or such persons ; but of tlios(i that are responsible fqr the -acts of the people as a goveVnment. When we speak of the honor of an Amer- icfm citizen, we speak of every individual, high or low, rich or poor, SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 297 , drow a long sigh, lavior. (11 to the Minister. 1 subject either to lio as honest men, ceriain. 1 have zens and Sydney th I shoukl say— )f"Mr."— wilido lor, or ev<;n repri- sly alive to Euro- swer — and tliat is, ref^orting to the n palliated. It id rrassnient, that is )ay a just debt, in dishonest. It' the !r their just debts, ve lost, they must r it. Men who have so too little to retract ig, they lose more vy induce them to t. Smith has put lot pay, their ere- y do pay, but not tion their conduct lir to condemn the States, or to pun- a part of" the peo- eountry deplores (he same descrip- riean or English )eak of" the honor , we speak of two jsed in the same I form, and in the wc S[)eak of the r of a chimney- er, or hothuan, or ar the -acts of the onor of an Amer« low, rich or poor. because, as all have the franchise, all are responsible for public acts. Take the same class wilh us that the word is applied to in England, and if tlie honor of that (tiass is not t'(|ual lo its eoire-ixjuding one i» Great Britain, I think 1 may say it will at least hvwv a M-ry iiivora- ble conipari-on with it. The (piestion of payuKMit or nori-paym^'nt, in the lepudiating States, has been put to every male, in tho;'e States over tiie age of twenty-one years, j nd rej)udiation has been tho result. ''Put the question of the payment of the national debt to every adult in Great Jiritain, and let reformers iiiHame llieir minds and excite their cupidity, as tliey always do on such occasions, and what would be the result*:' I fear the holders of the olil Three per Cents would tind repudiation a word as well understood in Euro[)e as it is in America. The almost universal suffrage in Canada is the cause of the ungenerous, ungrateful, and insatiable conduct of their reform- ers: all good men there acknowledge tiieir degi'adation, and deplore t: but, alas! they cannot help it. jMankind are mueli the same every wliere; the masses are alike at least, ignorant, prejudiced, needy, and not over scrupulous. It is our mi^tbrtune then, rather tluui our fault; you will observe I am not justifying repudiation, far from it ; but let us know where the fault lies, before we iulliet cen- sure — It lies in our Institution^ and not in our people ; it is worth all they have lost in England to know this, it is a valuable political lessen. Let them beware how they extend their franchise, or in- <:rease the democratic privileges. \'The llefbrm Bill has lowered the character of the House of Commons in exact proportion as it has opened it to the representa- tives of the lower orders. Another Reform Bill will lower the char- acter of the people; it will then only require universal suffrage, and vote by ballot, to precipitate both the altar and tlie throne into tlie cold and bottomless abyss of democracy, and in the froth and worth- less scum that will liont on tlie surflicc will be seen among the frag- ments of their-institutions, ' English repudiation.'" / " Give itte your hand. Minister," .-aid Mr. Slick : '• Oh, you did that beautiful ! Heavens and airlli ! — " " Stop, Sam," said j\lr. Hopewell, '• Swear not by Heaven, for it is his throne, nor by the earth, for it is his footstool." '• Well, then, lawful heart ! land of Goshen ! airth and seas I or, oh Solomon! take any one that will suit you; 1 wish you would lay down preachin' and take to politics, as Everitt did." " 1 could not do it," he replied, " if I would ; and I would not do it if 1 could." " Well, I wish you had never taken up the trade of preachinV* " Trade, Sam I do you call it a trade i"' "Well, art."' " Do you call it an art ?" 13* 298 THE ATTACH^; OR, ill " Well, call it what you like, I wish jon had never been bred a proarhor." " 1 have no such wish. I do not, at the close of my life, desire to exclaim with Wolscy, ' Had I served my God with half tlie zeal I have served my king, he would not now have deserted me in my old a^e.' " *' You hante got a king, and nohody sarves a president, for he ia nothin' but one of us, so you needn't be sheered, but I do wish you'd a-taken to noliiies. Good gracious, why can't Stephenson or Kveritt talk as you do; why don't they put the nail in the rigiit place, ami strike it i-iglit straight on the head? Tiie way you lujt that rejuidi" ation is jist the identical tiling. Bowin' gaUus polite, and sayin'— 'Debt is all right, you ought to have it — a high tone of ttvlin' — very sorry — force of circumstances — political institutions — universal suttiage — iiajipy country Euijland — national honor all in my eye — good bye!' How much better that is, than justifyin', or bullyin' or sayin' they are just as bad themselves, and only make mutters wus; I call that now true policy." ^''li' you call that true policy, I am sorry for you," he replied; "because it is evident you are ignorant of a very important truth." "What is that. Minister?" ^' ^ That honesty is always the best •policy. * Hud this great moral lesson been more universally known, you never would have hea'd o'i ^ Itepudiation.' '' CHAPTER LIII. THE BACKLOG. OR COOLNES As we sat chatting together late last night, the danger of a fire i 6t,a was talked of, the loss of the ' Kent' Indiaman, and The remark- able coolness of Colonel M'G rigor on that occasion was discussed, Hnd various anecdotes related of calmness, presence of mind, and :ttolness, under every possible form of peril. "There is a good deal of embellishment in all these stories," said Mr. Slick. " There is always a fact to build a story on, or a peg to hang it on, and this makes it probable ; so that the story and its fic- tions get so mixed up, you can't tell at last what is truth and what is fancy. A good story is never spiled in the tellin', except by a crittur that don't know how to tell it. JJattles, shipwrecks, highway robberies, blowed-up steamers, vessels a fire, and. so on, lay a foun- dation as facts. Some people are saved — that's another fact to build on; — £ome captain, or parfcnger, or woman hante iainted, and that's SAM SLICK IxV ENGLAND. 29P rer been bred a my life, desire to 1 half tlic zeal I serted me in my •csitlent, for he is It I do \v•i^h you'd lenson or Everitt ! right place, and 1 put that r'.'ptidi- )Ute, and si«yin' — i tone of feidin' — Lutions— universal r all in my eye— yin', or buUyin' or lake matters wus ; you," l»e replied ; important truth. ' 1 this great moral 1 would have hea'd SES _ danger of a fire i. in, and the remark- vsion was discussed, scnce of mind, and these stories," baid tory on, or a peg to he story and its tic- Lit is truth and what tcUin', except by a hipwrccks, highway I so on, lay a foun- another fact to build te fainted, and tUat'a enough to make a grand affair of it. You can't hardly believe none of them, that's tlie trutli. Now, I'll U'.W you a story that hajpciiM in a fann-hous'.i near to I'atiier's to iSHi'kvilk', ji->t a common seen*; of common life, and no romance about it, that does jist go tor to siiovv what I call coolness : "Our neanvt ueiglihor was Squire Peleg Sanford; well, the old Squire and all his iaiiiily was all of them the most awful ])assionMte folks that ever lived, when they chose, and then they could kee[) i i their temper, and be as cool at other times as cucumbers. Oim night, old uncle Pek'g, as he was called, told his son Gucom, a boy of fourteen' years olil, to go and bring in a backlog for the lire. A backlog, you know, Scjuire, in a wikkI iir(-', is always the bigge.-t stick tliat oiic can iind or carry. It takes a stout junk of a boy to life one. "Well, as soon as Gucom goes to fetch the log, the old Squir" drags forward the coals, and fixes the fire so as to leave a bed for h and t-lands by ready to fit it into its place. Presently in comes Gu- com with a little cat stick, no bigger than his leg, and throws it oi Uncle l*eleg got so mad, he never said a word, but just seized hi ridin' whip, and gave him a'most an awful wippin'. He tanned hi hide properly for him, you may depend. 'Now,' said be, *go, Sii and bring in a proper backlog.' " Gucom was clear grit as well as the old man, for he was a chi{. of the old block, and no mistake ; so, out he goes without so much a.r sayin' a word, but instead of goin' to the wood pile, he walks oil' altogethei-, and staid away eight years, till he was one-and-twenty, and his own master. Well, as soon as he was a man grown, and lawfully on his own hook, he took it into his head one day he'd go to home and see his old father and mother agin, and siiow them he was alive and kickiu', for they didn't know whether he was dead o'' not, never havin' heard of, or from him one blessed word all tlu» time. When he arrived to the old house, daylight was down, an- lights lit, and as he passed the kcepin'-room winder, he looked u and there was old Squire sittin' in the same chair he was eight year atbre, when he ordered in the backlog, and gave him sucli an on marciful wi})pin'. So, what does Gucom do, but stops at the woo;, pile, and picks up a most hugaeeous log (for he had grow'd to bt a'most a thunderin' big feller then), and, openin' the door, he marches in, and lays it down on the hearth, and then lookin' up, sais lie, ' Father, I've brought you in the backlog.' " Uncle Peleg was struck up all ot a heap ; he couldn't believe his eyes, that tliat great six-footer was the boy he had cow-hided, and he couldn't believe his ears when he heard him call him father; u man from the grave wouldn't have surprised him more — be w as quite onfakilized, and be-dumbed for a minute. But be came too light off, and was iced down to freezin' pois... in no time. 300 THE ATTACHE; OR, " * What did you say ?' pais 1k>. *' ' That I have brought you in Ihr, backlog, Sir, you sent iiio out for." " ' Well, thon, you've been a d 'd loiig time a-fetehin' it,' sais h(! ; ' that's all 1 can fcay. Draw the coals I'orrard, put it on, and ihen go to bed.' '* Now, that's a fact, Squire ; I know'd the parties myself — and that's what 1 do call coolness — and fto mistake 1' CHAPTER LIV. MARRIAGE. To-DAT, as we passed St. James's church, we found the streets in the neighborhood almost obstructed by an immense concourse of fashionable carriages. " Ah 1" said Mr. Slick, " here is a splice in high life "to-day. J wish to goodness 1 could scrouge in and see the gall. Them nobility women are so horrid hansum, they take the jjhine olf all creation a'most. I'll bet a goose and trimmins she looks like an angel, poor thing! I'd like to see her, and soukjIiow I wouldn't like to see her nother. I like to look at beauty always, my heart yarns towards it ; and 1 do love women, the dear critturs, that's a I'act. There is no musick to my ear like the rustlin' of petticoats; but then I piiy one o' these high breU galls, that's made a show of that way, and deckiid out in tirst chop style, for all the world to stare at afore she is oii'ered up as a sacrifice to gild some old coronet with her money, or enUu'ge some landed estate by addin' her'n on to it. Half the time it ain't the joinin' of two hearts, but the joinin* of two pusses, and u wile is chose like a boss, not for her looks, but for what she will fetch. It's the greatest wonder in the world them kind o' marriages turn out as well as they do, all thin's considered. 1 can't account for it no way but one, and that is, that love that grows up slow will last longer than love that's born full grown. The tust is love, the-last is passion. J^nslijou tii1<^.>; iill i^Hfy, " These Londoners are about as consaited folks of their own ways as you'll lind onder the sun a'most. They are always a-jawin' about good taste, end bad taste, and correct taste, and all that sort o' thin'. Pollers that eat and drink so like the devil as they do, it's no wonder that word 'taste' is for everlastin' in their mouth. Now, to my mind, atween you and me and tiie post, lor 1 darn't say so here to company, they'd stare so if I did, but atween you and me, 1 don't think leadin' a irail out to a church chock lull of company, to be ■ r I , you sent me out ii-t'('t(;liin' it,' sais .ircl, put it on, and irties myself — and c)und the streets iii ense concourse of ' here is a splice ia )U<;e in and see tliQ sum, they take the trimmins she looks ', and sonuihow I beauty always, my dear critturs, that's usthn' of petticoats I t's made a show of or all the world to Id some old coronet jy addin' her'n on larls, but the joinin' )t for her looks, but r in the world them U thin's considered, at is, that love that i-n full grown. The ill htif*?*- is of their own ways Iways a-jawiu' about all that' sort o' thin'. ;y do, it's no wonder louth. Now, to my arn't say so here to you and me, 1 don't d of company, to b« SAM PLTCK TN' KN'OLAXP. 801 stared at like a prize ox, by all the youn,2;' bucks nnd tlio old docs about low 1, to criticise, ratiiize. and jokeii.-^e on, or make ])roplu'cies on, a-pityin' the poor feller tliai's caught such an almi!-ipat('d ft.'ilcr; or rakin' u[) old stories to new-frame 'em as pietui-is to amuse folks with, (for envy of a j]i;ood match always j2:ets to i>ityin' 'em, as if it liked 'em, and was sorry for 'em.) and then to lead her off to !i de- juney a la fussier; to hear her li(;alth drunk in vvin(s and to hear a whi.-per atween a man-woman and a womim-niiiii. not intended to be lieerd, except on ptn"[K)sc ; and then ])0>ted off to ^ome old niaiisioa or another in the country ; and all alonj^ the; road to be the. stundin' joke of post-boys, footmen, and ladies' maids, annglied, antl then Deliverance coughed, so as to attract old ISqnire's attentiuM, and maki; Inm 'lend to their business; but no, no- thing would do : he wrote, and he wrote, and he wrote, and he never stopped, nor looked up, nor looked round, nor said a word. Then Deliverance looked over at the Sipiire, nnule faces, and nodded and motioned to Outhouse to go to liiin, but he frowned and shook his Lead, as much as to say, ' I dar>n'i do it, dear, 1 wish you would.' " At last she got narvous, and began to cry out of clear slieer spite, for she was good stulf, rael ^teel, put an edge on a knife a'mo.st; and that got Slocuni's tlander up, — oo he upsolfof liis seat, and spunks up to the old Sijuire, and sais he, 'S(juire, tell you what, wo camo'here to gel married; if you are u-goin' ibr to do the job well and good, if you ain't, say so, and wc will go to some one el>e.' ' What job,' sais oKl Peleg, a-lookin' up as innocent as you please. ' Why, marry us,' sais Slocum. * Marry you !' sais he, ' why d — u you, } ou was manied an hour and a-half ago, man. What are you a-talkiu' about i* 1 thought you was a-goin' to spend the night here, or else had repented of your bargain ;' and he sot back in his chair, and lurfed ready to kill himself. ' What the devil have you been waitin' for all tins time ':' sais he ; ' don't you know that makin' de- claration, as you did, is all that's required ? — but come, let's take a glass of grog. Here's to your good health, Mr. Slocum, or iSlow-go, as you ought to be called, and the same to you, Deliverance. What a nice 'name you've got, too, lor a bride ;' and he larfed agin till they Loth joined hi it, and lari'ed, too, like anythin'j for larlin* id catchin',you can't help it someiimes, even suppose you are vexed. " ' Yes,' sais he, ' long lite and as much happiness to you both as you can cleverly digest ;' and then he shook hands with the bride, and whispered to her, and she colored up, and looked horrid pleased, and sais, ' A'ow, Squire, posit/ft'ly, you ought to be ashamed, that's a fact.' '• 2sow," said Mr. Slick, "a feller that ain't a fool, like Slocum, and don't know when he is married, can get the knot tied without fuss or loss of time with us, can't he ? — Yes, I don't like a show ' SAM SLICK IN EXOLANI). 808 the devil by and (I li(! never siiis • looked u|i, and •e, ii-lo(tkiii' like II to ^o DHC iiutli (.wii \\i\y at any • hi'inU, ;iiul ilien II they t-eratchcd ■II i-hitteil it back a couuK'd all the a walelied a man I I he ridge; then ) lis to aliniet old iiiess ; but no, no- ote, and he never d a word. Then ;, and nodded and led and shook his ish you woaUh' out of clear >lieer onakuilea'nio.st; )ll" of ids seat, and tell you what, we to do the job well ,o some one el>e.' ;ent as you plea;ie. us he, ' why d — ii 11. What are you nd the night here, back in hid chair, vil have you been )\\ that makin' de- conie, let's take a locum, or Shw-gu, elivcrance. What he larfed agin till thin' ; for larlin* is e you are vexed. ie=s to you both as lids with the bride, ied horrid pleased, be ashamed, that's fool, like Slocum, e' knot tied without I don't like a show •fldir like this. To my mind, a quiet, private marriafre, like that at UiK'!(5 I'eieg's is jisf al)oiit llii; ri'^iit ihiii;^." "Sam," y^aier,M»ii lier(! will agice with you. \^liiy opinion (hat aninut he, t'xpir.ssed licrc niuf,!. be a wroinj one, indeed ; tlia jnd(jnienf, the Jhdiny, and the. tisfa of ftoriefi/ in i,o f/oud // l>ut still tiie ceremony should always be p(!rfonned in the ehurcli, and as 1 was saying, I'm siirpri.-ed to hear yon approv<; of sncli an afiliir a.s that at Scpiire Veleg'.i ollice. Making mai-riage a mere eonli-aet, to be executed liki; any otli(!r secular obligation, l)efoie the civil magis- trate, is one of the most ingenious comrivances of the devil to loosen moral obligations that I know of at all. " When 1 tell you the Whigs were great advocat(;.s for it here, 1 am sure I need not give you its character in stronger language. Tlicir a and tender ns a sUinnrd vt'\. l>iit. oh, drar nic ! if iU'}^ piece oi' home happens to Ix' an old K'hooUJ'Ucr, don't it awaken i(h'e.<, not only /, it wtdrs itf'mtn llio ilf d, jnifs inir lij\; into it, itnt/ it stretches out its Hunt/s lud buzzes round us if it h(til nerer slept. AVhen you se(.' him, don't the old sclioolinasier rise up before you as nateral as if it was only yesterday ? and th(! seiiool-rooni, and ihu noisy, larkin', liappy holida>'v, and yon boys It.-t out, racmi, yelpin', hdlerin', and wlioopin', like mad, with ideasure ; and tlu^ pl'iv- gromid, and the game at bass in the iiejds, or hurlyon the long pond on the ice, or campin' out a-night at Chester lakes to (ish— <'atehin' no trout, gettin' wet thro' and thro' with rain like a t letters of her name — F. L., fust love; never dreamin' the baik would gi'ow over them in tinu; on the tree, and the woi'ld, the llesh, and the devil, rub tlujm out of the heart in arter years also. Then conies robbin' orchanls and i'etchin' home nasty puckery ap[)les to eat, as sour as lireek, that stealin' made sweet ; or gel tin' out o' ■winders at night, goin' down to old Ross's, orderin' a supper, and pocketin' your fust whole bottle of wine. Oh ! that fust whole bottle christened the man, and you woke up sober next mornin', and got the fust taste o the world — sour in the mouth — sour in the stomach — sour in the temper, and sour all over ; — yes, that's the world. Oh, Lord! don't them and a thousand more things rush right into your mind, like a crowd info a theatre seein' which can get in fust. Don't it carry you back aibre sad realities, blasted hopes, and false hearts had chilled vour aileetions. " Oh, dear! you don't know, 'cause in course you hante travelled none, and can't know, but I do. Lord ! meetin' a erittur away I'rom home that way, has actilly niude me pi[)e my eye afore now. Now a feller that don't feel tliis, that was to school with you, and don't yarn towards you, that is a-sojournin' here and knows you are here, and don't run full clip to you and say, ' Oh, how glad 1 am to see you ! Come and see me as often as you can ; — can't I do anything for you, as I know town better nor you do? Is there anything 1 can ehow you ? Oh ! How glad I've been to see your name in the ])aper3 —to hear folks praise your books — to find you've got on in th« 806 THE AlTACIli^:; OR, world. Well, I'm pi ad of it for your ^nko — for ll»o pa\v» of the Fcli(tr>l Aiwl (»ld Xovji Scotiji, and tlicii li<(\v's so aiidso? Docs A drink i\^ hard a-; <'vcr; i-* 11 as Im y a->kiiiiiiir a >i.\ii('iic(' ? and (J an (biidol* Imi'sc racinn;';' Tlicy lidl iin' 1) i-> tlif most »li.vtiii<;ifi,-ln d mail ill New liraii.s\vi< niudi oliener a> von can. I'll dron in everv mornin' as 1 > to my ollici! aliont Iu<'akt;i t time mkI jrlvo you n iiail — I liave an appointment now. Good Inc ! old 1. !!. , , d(!V- lish fflnd to see you;' and then returnin' afore he jrets to tin; door, and i><r when they are j)ent up they ain't healthy, and breed homosickness, and that's an awi'ul feelin'; aii'. the poorer a coniUry isfolkii coiue from, the more ihey are subject to this complaint. How does he know you ain't home-sick, for that ain't coniincd to no age ? How does he know there never was a man in the world met with so much kindness in London as you have, and from entire sti'angera SAM .SLICK IN KXGLAXD. 807 |io pa\v« of the I so? Docs A 'iicn ? unin' (o-nv inoiiih , lie ain't woriii a cos-;; he jiiu'l iwitcral, and a ciitmr that a'n't natcral ain't woitii noiliin*. Cut him a-i (|i':id i\< a ,'-k(nd<; j*»y a-i Croekcft di(k 'yon may ^'o to h — 1, and I'll l'o to 'J'c\a-.* If J WHS yon i woii!tly, too, unless it's a gal you want to see, and that alters the ease. Are you so soft in the horn as to go all that distance jist to Icnve a card?' ' kSam.' he s:iis, do von recollect when we was *o night-school to old INlini-ier, his sx- ])lainin' what ellipsis was?' ' ^No, 1 never heerd of it albre, is'it a medicine?' ' JNIedicine ! what a fool yon be.' ' W(;ll, what the ])lague is it then,' sais I, 'is it French ?' ' Why, Sam, do you recol- lect one single blessed thing you ever larnt to school?' ' Yes, 1 do,' eais I, 'I la'-nt that a man who calls his brother a tool is apt to git knocked down, in the first place, and is in danger of somethin' worse hereafter, a pkigny >ight stronger nor your doctor's sluif.' ' Don't you recollect ellijisis?' sais he; 'it's soniethin' to be onderstood but not expresseiL' ' Well, I think I do mind it, n.ow you m.ention it,' sais I. 'Well,' sais he, 'doctors" visits are ellipsis visits, there is a good deal ondt'rstood but not expressed. I'll tell you how it is : I've got business at the bank at Baltimore. Well, 1 go there, do xny business u[) all tight and snug, and then go call on Doctor Flagg. Fhigg sais, ' How are you, Slick ? when did you come, eh ? g!ad to see you. old fellow. Come with me, I have a most inlere-tin' case; it's a lady ; Am gobbles her food like a hen-turkey, and has got the disjH'|)sy. I doif t like to talk to her about ehawin' her food line, and boltin', lor I'm ai'eerd of olfendin' her; so I give her medicine to do the work of her teeth.' 'Oh!' sais I, '1 take' — and I goes Avith bim to see her; he tells me h<,'r treatment afore her. ji~t as if he had never mentioned it, and as grave as if he was iii airnest. 'Excellent,' I say, — 'nothin' could be better; that infusion of quas- sia chips is somethin' new in practice, that I take to be a discovery of your own.' He sais, ' Yes ; I rather pride myself on it.' 'You SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 309 ienil! pais yoit — ;t Ivcl more ugly (Is for ever ami a jtiinaey : an obli- ' liiive injured, or forjrive or tbrjrct. •r it is n ihiJi,u; we •e-hoiis('S fJidt keep (fitre? K'Jturniii' at ? It coiisuiiK'S tors arc} tin; only ts. I shall never I oneet Jil)0ut the Chtirlcston to lial- ,ou am, do you recol- ool ?' ' Ves, 1 do,' a fool is apt to git of somcthin' worse ,r's 6lu!V.' 'Don't be onderstood but )W you mention it,' is visits, there is a ^•ou how it is : I've 1 piness, until he reaclies that place " Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." " Who t!ie plague is that horrid solemncoly man?" said Mr. Slick when I rejoined him ; '* he looks as if he had lost his last shilliu', and as it was the only snrvivin' one out of twenty, which made the round sum of the iiimily, he was afeercd he should not get another. Who the plague is he ? London ain't no place for a man to be in who is out of the tin, I can tell you." " He is Major Furlong, of the regiment," I said. " When I first became accpjainted with him, eight years ago, he was stationed at Halifax, Nova Scotia; he was one of the most agreeable men I ever tnet, and was a general favorite with his brother oHicers and the j)eople oi' fltc west end of the town. He was a married man, and had two daughters grown up, and two sons at school."' '" He was married, was he ?" said Mr. Slick. " Well, we find, in our sarvice \vh(;n a feller is fool enough to accommodate himself with a wife, it is time for the country to disaccommodatc itself of him. I don't krr'v Imw it is in your .-arvice, scein' that when I was to Nova Scotia I was only a clockmaker, and, in course, didn't d.ne at mess; but 1 know how 'tis in our'n. V> e lind now aiid then the wives of olli- cers of marchin' regiments, the very delightful critturs, not always the most charmin' women in the world arter all. A little money and no beauty, or a little beauty and no money, or a little interest and no- thin' else, are the usual attractions to idle or specuiatia' men who f SAM SLICK IN' ENGLAND. 311 cT horcafter in- ,(. fiiniily jK'ncr- 1 of U\- SlifU's all to lioine to- youivclf in 1 uv- lUit to return dc^ mow \onf!;t'i'- ings 202, ricca- veconinicvul Mr. I tliut Mr. Hope- n jit ?even, it 1»« ;aid, " is a capital of wine, and you of which I Une^v - the clockmaker ," and po loudly ap- ; he said he should ',y \ — how mcchan- . say when we use tering our thoughts apparel! Happy! S until he reaches ing, and the weary m?" paid Mr. Slick ,ng men so nim'li, and her talk gets a sportin' turn, instead of lalk of I he ft luinine genih.M'. Siie tells stoi'ies of liosses, and dog-, a. id huntin', and eamj)s, and our young fellers, as she calls the boy oili- cers; and their sjirees. She sees what siie hadn't ought to see, and hears Avhat she hadn't ought to hear, and knows what she oughtn't to know, and sometimes talks what she hadn't ought to talk. It e'en a jist sp'ilei: her in the long run. And the cliildren — poor littl« ii:J» 312 THE ATTACH^; OR, wretches ! — what a school a barracks is for tlicm ! — What beautiful new oaths llie boys hirn, and sjjlendid h'ctle bits and scraps of wick- edness they pick up from tbe sodgers and sodgor boys ; and the h'ctle galls, what nice lectle stories they hear ; and what ju-etty Icetle tricks they larn from camp women, and their leetle galls ! And if there ain't notliin' but the pay, what an everlastin' job it is to alt(!r frocks, and razee coats, and coax down stockin's for them. A gold epau- lette on the shoulder, and a few coppers in the pocket, makes poverty- farment till it gets awful sour; and silk gowns and lace collars, and muslin dresses and feathers, for parties abroad, and short allowance for the table to home, makes gentility not very gentle sometimes. When the galls grows up, its wuss. There is nobody to walk with, or ride with, or drive with, or sing with, or ssible not to see that this even tenor was upheld by a great exertion of moral courage. During the evening, Mr. Hopewell, who otily knew^ that he was a half-pay oflicer that iiad settled in Canada, untbrtunately interrogated him as to the rebellion, and tiie share he had taken, if any, in sup{)ressing it, when he told us the melancholy story related in tlie Ibllowing chapter. CHAPTER LVII. THE CANADIAN EXILE.— PART II. ** You are aware, Mr. Poker," saiJ Major Furlong, " that shortly after I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance at Halifax, my regiment was ordered to Canada ; I was stationed in the upper province, the fertility and beauty of whicli far exceeded any accounts 1 had ever heard of U. Our next tour of duty was to be in the West Indies. My poor Amelia shuddered at the thought of the climaU!, and suggested to me, as our family was getting to be too expensive to remove so often, to terminate our erratic life by settling in Cana- da. A very favorable opportunity occurring soon^after, I sold out of the army, purchased a large tract of land, erected a very pretty cottage, and all necessary farm buildings, and provided myself w ilh as many cattle of the best description as the meadow-land would war- rant me in keeping. In a short time I was very comfortably settled, and my wife and daughters were contented and happy. We had not only all the necesf^aries and comforts of life about us, but many of the luxuries, and I congratulated myself upon having turned my sword into a ploughshare. I'his state of things, however, was j.ot doomed to last long. So many unw ise concessions had been recently made by the Colonial Otiice to local demagogues, that they became emboldened in tiieir demands, and the speeches of Koebu<,'k and U I'l 314 THE attache; (xr, ! i i i'i I : Hume, in Piirliamciit, and a frciisoiiahle l<'tt(!r o.' the latter, wliich l.ad been widely oiinilafcd tliroiigli the eoiiiilry. iuiine(l flie flaiiu; of • li-content until it broke out into op(!n rcljcllioti. They <;av(! tlietn t-elves the very appropriate title of Patriots,' ' l{<-t()nncrs,' and ' Lib- (fids' — names that are always assiune*! when the deception and do lii>ion of the lower orders is lo b(! attempted. They were de-perate men, as sueli people jienerally are, (histitute of property, of eharac- icr. or of prineiple, and as sucli found a warm syFUpathy in the scum '>i' ihe Ameiiean i)Oj)ulation, th<; refust the lieformers seized the op[)ortunity tif my abs«Mice from home with the volunte(;rs, lo set lire to my hovjse, and as the family escaped fron^ the ilames, to shoot at them as they severally api)eared in tlu; light of the tire. ISly eldest daughter was killed in attempting to es('a[)e, the rest V( ached the woods, with the slight covering they coidd hastily put on in their Higlit, where they spent the night in the deef) snow, and were rescued in the morning, nearly exhausted with liitigue and ter- roi\ and severely frostbitten. " During all this trying period, my tirst care was to provide for my houseless, helpless iamily ; 1 removed them to another and more n-auquil part of the country, and then resumed my command. By the exertions and firmness of M'Nab, and tlR? bravery and loyalty of the liritish part of the p(>pulation, the rebellion was at last put down, and 1 retui'netl to my de-olate home. But, alas ! my means were exhausted — I iiad to mortgage my proj)erty to raise the neces- sary funds to rebuild my house and re-stock my iarm, and, from a state of alHuence, 1 found myself suduenly reduced to the condition of a poor man. 1 felt that my services and my losses, in my coun- try's cause, gave me a claim upon the Govermnent, and I solicited a sm:di country olUce, then vacant, to recruit my linances. ".Judge ot' my surprise, when 1 was told that J was of dlllerent politii's from liie local administration, which had recently been formed iVom the di.-atlecie(l j)arty ; that 1 was a loyalist ; that the rebels must be {)aeilie{l — that t!ie well inid(!rstood wishes of the i)eo- ple must be considered, a large portion of whom were o})i){)sed to Tories, Churchmen, and Loyalists ; that the rebels were to he par- doned, coneiliateil, and promoted ; and that I hud not the uecossarj? !; SAM SLICK I:T ENGLAND. 815 c latter, wl»ic^ ,.,1 tlio Wnnw of j.^y "■iivi! tlu'iu -ccption :«n(\ ligbt of the five, to escape, the rest y could hiistily put the deep snow, and ith iatigne and ter- svas to provide for Lo another and more ,iny eouunand. l>y bravery and loyalty Ihon was at last put ut, alas ! my means ^ to raise the neces- L iarm, and, from a Leed to the eondition I U^s>es, in my coun- Ln(>nt, and 1 sohcited k- iinanres. L 1 was of dtllercnt 1 luul recently been Luluvalist; t bat the L\ vvi;bes of the peo- Ln were opposed to thels were to be par- ad not ibe necessary qualifications for ofRee, inasrruich as T was a gentleman, liad bct-n in anus against the people, u[)lield British conneetion, and \va-< a mon- archist. This I could liav(! borne. It was a sad reverses of fortune, it is true; my means were greatly reduced, my iiuding; deeply wounded, and my pride as a man and an Englisliman severely mor- tified. I knew, iiowever, I was in no way the cause, of this calamity, and that I still had the fortilnde of a soldier and the ho[)e of a Chris- tian. IJut, alas! tiio sufferings my poor wife endured, wIumi driven, at the dead of night, to seeU shelter in the snowdrifts from lier mer- ciless ))ursuers, had thrown her into a decline, and day l>y day I had the sad and melancholy sp(ictacle before my eyes of this dear and amiable woman, sinking into tho grav(! with a ruined constitution and a broken heart. Nor was I suffered to remain unmolest'.'d my- self, even when the rebellion had ceased. Murder, arson, and ruin had not yet glutted the vengeanctj of tiiese remorseless Reformers. I con.-tantly received threatening letters; men in disguise were still occasionally t^m^n luj'king about my premises, and three; several times I was shot at by tliese assassins. Death at last put itn end to the terrors and sufferings of poor Amelia, and I laid her be.-^ide her murdered daughter. Having sold my property, 1 left the country with the little remnant of my fortune, and sought i-efuge in my na- tive land with my remaining daughter and two sons. Good heavens! had 1 taken your advice, which still rings in my ears, I should have escaped this misery. 'Don't settle in Canaila,' you said, * it is a border country ; you are exposed to sympathisers without, and to ])atriots within — below^ you is treason, and above you is Durbamisra Years and Whigs nuist pass away, and Toryism and Dritish feeling retui-n, beibre trancjuillity will be restored in that unhappy country.' llemarkable prophecy ! wonderiully fulfilled ! Oh ! had J taken your advice, and gone among Turks and infidels, obedience to the laws would have, at all events, insured protection ; and defending the government, if it had not been followed by reward, wo\dd at least not have incurred displeasure and disgrace. But, alas ! 1 had been bred a soldier, and been taught' to respect the British fiag, and, unhappily, sought a home in a colony too distant for a British army to protect or British honor to I'each. My poor dear sainted wife-— my poor murdered daughter may " Ilc're, overcome by his feelings, he covered his face with his hands, and was dreadfully and fearfully agitated. At last, springing sud- denly up in a manner that brought us all to our feet, he exhibited that wildness of eye peculiar to insanity, and seizing me with won- derful muscular energy l)y iht; arm, he pointed to the corner of the room, and screamed out " There I there! do you see it? — look, look I — it is all on fire! — do you hear those cursed rilles? — that's Mary in the light there!" and then raising his voice to a fearful pitch, called out, ''lluii! for God's sake; run, Miiry, to the shade. i- i.i 'It 816 THE ATTACHft ; OB, or tlioy'll shoot yon ! — miike for tlie woods ! — don't siop to lopk be- liind I — run, dear, run !" — and then suddenly lo\vcrin(|Uot< l;te — tlury won't listen, that's a fact. They jist look up to the sk}, as soon as you begin, — 1 lulFer dreadfully with bile, — and say, — Oil! it's goin' to rain, do go in, as you have been takin' calomel ; and they open a doo;', shove yon into the entiy, and race right off as hard as they can clip. AVho the devil wants to hear about bile? Well, then, as you mu.-t have some- body to amuse you, we will give you into the bargain a paicel of old East Jndgy ollicers, that ain't ill and ain't well ; ripe enough to begin to decay, and most likely are a lilthi too far gone in places. They won't keep good long ; its likely old Scratch will take 'em sud- den some night ;^ so you shall have these fellers. They lie so like the devil they'll make you stare, that's a fact. If you only ])romise to let them get on an elephant hunt arter dinner, they'll let you tell about your rumatics, what you're rubbed in, and took in, how 'cute the pain is, and you may grin and make faces to 'em till you are tired: and tell 'em how you didn't sleej) ; and how shockin' active you was once upon a time when you was young ; and describe ail about your pills, plaisters, and blisters, and everythin'. Well, then, pay 'em for listenin', for it de.^arves it, by mountin' ihem for a tiger hunt, and they'll beguile away pain. 1 know, thi'V will tell such horrid thumpers. Or you can have a boar hunt, or a great sarpent hunt, or Suttees, or anythin'. Tiiree lines for a I'aet, and tln-ee vol- umes for the romance. Airth and seas ! how they lie! There are two things every lidler leaves in the East, his liver and liis truth. Few liorsed can trot as fust as they can invent; yes, you may have SAM SI.ICK IN ENGLAND. ;^ia •k my heel, fot ictlK'i" piilsy is , hciililiy AunM i'air ilivision c»t' , iiiul )ou shall <;lit()n, you shall you, ami will do .UuhI air ? Well, oicc. Lcaiuing- in:\y tak(! Heme • liberal, and act ,ur places ior you ise, you .shall be tv U-ather Hock • aches ami pains, It's a i^real com- ity, dirty, shockin' i/t(Mi to you but a-guiu' to up and veil, in j^ineral al- I't listen, that's a u begin,—! rulFer rain, do go n», as o;', shove you inio 1 clip. Who the 1 nui.-t have sonie- igaiu u parcel ot I ; ripe enough to ar gone in places, will take 'em sud- They lie so like you only i)romise they'll let you tell took in, how 'cute to 'em till you are low shockin' active • and de^cribc all ihin'. Well, then, n' vhem ior a tiger lu'V will tell such or' a great sarpent tact, and three vol- c.y lie ! There are jver and his truth, yes, you may have thwji*: wld 'coons, and then when you are tied by the lecf and can't 8tir, ji ^\'^l amuse you to se-e tiieni old sinners lookin' under gaU' bonnets, ohuekitr cliamlx-nnaids oiwU-r tlilKr(>-\voiuan, not 'cause it p]e!i>es women, ti)r it don't — young heifers tan t auiue old tellers — but 'cause it pleases tliem>elvt's to tiniey they an; yoong. Never play cards with them, tor if they lose they are horrid cross and everla^tin' sarsy, and you have to ftwaller it all, for it s cowuruly to kick a fedler that's got the gout ; 'and if they win, they mu»e \oo much noise a-lartiu, they are su pleased.' '•'Now tliere is your four vii^riu' places for you; stick to 'em. don't go ramblin' about to everv piace in the king(ioin, a'most, »mu sp'ile 'em all. W^e well folks wiil rinck to oiu' own, and let you be ; and you ill folks must stick to your'n, txnd you may get well, or 1k»;. the twig, or do what you like ; and we h Keep well, or hoj* th<^ broom- stick, or do anythin' we like. But let'a i\Js.>olve purtnershi[), and di- vide the stock at any rate. Let Januaiy oe Jaimary, and let May be ]Mav. liut let's Ket a divorce, for we A"n't agree over and alx)'.e well.' "Strange! Squire, but extremes meet.\'\Vlien society gets too stiff and starch, as it is in England, it has to onbind, slack u[), an coiirse tlic Devil's common, and the Asscinbly-rooin Old Nick's levee. Wtll, Ik^ preaches so violent, and raves so like nnul a;;in 'em, it sets all the yomi;^ folks crazy to go arter this lorhidden fruit, ri,irht otf the reel, and induces old Iblks to h!tch their ;j;als where such ^ood doctrine is tau;;ht. There is IK) ti'ick of modem times eciual to it. It's actilly the makin' of tho town. Then it jist suits all old gals that have ijiven up the flash lino and gay line, as their lines got no biles to their hooks all tin; timu' they li,i}). ' Who is Mr. Adam ?' sals she. ' Is he of the family of old Adam, or of the new family of Adam, that lives to Manchester?' * Oh, yes ! the family is older than sin, and as rich too," sais he. ♦ Who is that lady he walked with yesterday ?' ' Oh ! she is map* SAM SLICK IN KNQLAND. 321 vil's common, c prciU'licr* so u- joimpj lolivs .11(1 induces old i;i;lit. 'riicrc id mnUin' of tlio p tli(^ Hush lino i.s all tli-a's lie. 'Take two ol'tlie,*(5 bread and sugar pills, \ou will In- all righi in a day or two; and, beibre goin' into eonipnny. laiu' a table .-poontiil (if llii< mixture. It's a new exilaratin' sedati\i!' (which mnins it's a it an J to sketch, and there's that big castle ; there's the librai-y and the l»uit->hop. and 1 don't know what all : there's everything a'most ah the time, ajid what's better, new-comers every day. J can't say all this jist exactly cqmes uj) to the notch for me. Jt may suit you, Squire, all lhis» but it don't altogether suit my taste, for, in the lus. place, it tante always fust chop society there. I don't see the pec\)le of high life here jist as much as I'm used to in my circles, unless t ley 're sick, and then they don't want to see me, and 1 don't want to see tliem. And in the next place, 1 can't shake hiuids along with death all the time without gettin' the cold shivers. I don't mind old fellers goin' off the hook a bit, 'cause it's iu the course of natur'. Arter u critter 14* •lOllK ■IWliM S22 THE ATTACH^; OR, i^f m it ■!, 1 rl| I; I I can't enjoy his money, it's time he took himself off, ana left it to ?ome one that can ; and I don't mind your dis-t-colorecl t•heek^!, lor war, he is so L!e, lie (lunrrels so voiilil ji^t ^tep in, Look at the curry his skin. That , conr?arn of mine. t 1 hail his rupees ve a tough job of c. It tante that I don't like it, that's it— Fear 1 Lord I n run an Alligator isure engine, valve ard, and ever^ soul •e, 1 tell you. Ino, hough 1 don't like fact. But tliere is part of a man if he pk over there, now, d gal there ?— ain't licate color she has but interestin'-like, I while, like a milU- ish, blended, runnin' ie Lends and t'other and graceful them kinder melancholy ued like moonlight, jvent and good it i-. '.sure as you and 1 . know that gal, and s to courtin' of her, account. She is too ,bout the world as I in, and one o' my She is more fitter ihe is so lovely, so a dear she is. . world ; she is in a fitalizes so cruel, it's •morrow. It comes time it's insinuatui itself, and it feeds on the inside till it's all holler like, and then to hide its murder, it paints, and rouges, and sets off the outside so handsum, no soul would believe it was at work. ' Vice imitates vartue,' ]Miniater .rnit. 1 ean read 'em lik<; a book, and mind, J tell you, iIhtc's many a J^lioekin' l)ad book in very elegant gold bindln', {'nil of wliat ainl lit to be read; and there'a many a rael good work in very mean sliocp-kin eovers. Tbe most beautiful ones is women's. In a gineral way, mind, 1 tell you, the pajxa* is pure white, and what's wi-oW; in it is good penmanship and good dielionar;)'. 1 love 'em — no man ev(!r loved dear innoeent gals as 1 do, 'cause I know how dear and iiinoeent they be — but man — oh! there is many a black, dirty, nasty horrid sheet in his'n. Yes, I know human natur' too much for my own good, I am afeerd sometimes. Such is life in a Waterin' J'lace, iS(juire. J don't lilcc it. The ill make me ill, and the f/ 11/ don't male vie gay — that's a fact. \2 like a phice that is pleasant of itself but not a place where pleasure is a business, and where that pleasure is to be looked for among the di/in' and the dead. 'No, T don't like a Waterin' Mace!'' CHAPTER LIX. THE EARL OF TUNB RIDGE. " Squire," said Mr. Slick, " I am afeerd father is a little wrong in the h.ead. lie goes away by himself and stays all the mornin*, and when he returns refuses to tell nie where he has been, and if I go for to press him, he gets as mad as a hatter. H(j has spent a shocking sight of money here. But that aint the worst of it nother, lie seems to have lost his onderstandin' too. lie mutters to himself by the hour, and then suddenly springs up and struts about tlui room as j)roud as a peacock, and sings out — ' Clear the way for the Loru !' Sometunes I've thought the Irvinites had got hold of him, and some- times that he is mesmerized, and then I'm afeerd some woman or another has got an eye on him to marry him. He air.t quite him- self, that's sartin. The devil take the legadon, I say ! I wish in my soul 1 had stayed to Nova Scotia a-vendin' of clocks, and then this poor, dear old man wouldn't have gone mad as he has. lie came to me this mornin', lookin' quite wild, and lockin' the door ai'tcr him, sot down and stared me in the face ibr the matter of live min- utes without speakin' a blessed word, and then bust out u-larliu like jnythin'. " ' Sara, sais he, ' I wish you'd marry.' SAM BUCK IN KNOLANO. 326 tlio Imman heart Let :i mail or wo- ,y ill's and ikin's u t)ir us easy as big 1 tell \(ui, iIhtc'b luliii', iullofwliat .'ork in very nwan rnA. Ill sv in' we go to bed now, and we will talk it over to-morrow.' "'Well,' sais he, 'if you ccut sleep arter this, go to bed, but Sam, for Heaven's sake, sleep with General Wellington, and talk him over; I don't care a d — n for tiie Airl of Tuubridge, I want to change it. I want the title to be IJunker Hill, as lie is of Waterloo. W^e are two old veteran heroes, and ought to bi' two great nobs to- gether. Sleep with him, Sam, for Heaven's sake. And now,' sais he, risin', and takiii' the candle, 'open the door, Sii', and clear the way for the Lord •' "Oh, dear! dear; I am almost crazed myself. Squire — aint it shockin' ?" He was evidently very much distressed, I had never seen him so much moved before, and thereibre endeavored to soothe him as well as I could. " Stranger things than that have happened,*' I said, " JMr. Slick. It is possible your father may be right, after all, although the proof to oubstantiate his claim nuiy be unattainable. It is not probable, certainly^, but it is by no means impossible." "Then you think there may be something in it, do you?" " Unquestionably there may be, but I do not think there is." " But you think there may be — eh?" '" Certainly, there may be." After a long pause, he said: "I don't think so either; Squire: I believe it's only his ravin' ; but if there was," striking his fist on the table with great energy, " by the 'tarnal, I'd si)end every cent I have in the world, to have my rights. iSo, there is nothin' in it, but if ther'^ was, I'd have it if 1 died for it. Airl of Tunbridge ! well, it ain I so coarse, is it? I wonder if the estate would come back too, for to my mind, a title without the rael grit, aint worth much, — is it? Airl of Tunbridge ! — heavens and airth ! if I had it, wouldn't I mako your fortin, that's all ; I hope I may be shot if I'd forget old friends. Lord! I'd nuike aou Governor-Cimeral to Canady, lor you are jist the boy that's fit for it — or Lord xSova Scoiia ; for why shouldn't colonials eome in for their share of good things as well as these d — ned monopolists here ; or anythin' you plea-ed a'most. Airl of Tunbridge ! — Oil, it's all nonsense, it can't be iflIc ! The old maa ! 9 I I II ill 828 THE ATTACH^; OR, was always mad upon pomotliiii' or njiolluM', and now ho is mad on tiiis p'iut. I iiiiisl Ivy to drive il out of iiis Ii(ii(i, tlial is, il'it liaiito no l)()tU)in; l)Ul if it Ikh, I'm jist tiic boy to lianic on to it, till J ^et it, that's a iact. Wt,'il, tiicn' may he e^oinethin' in it. as you say, artcr uih I'll tell }oa what, there's no liarni in imiiiiiin', at any rate. I'll look int > the story of tiic ' Airl of Tunhiitlgc' " . CHAPTER LX. ' i IS rii ! E N G L I S H C; E N T L E M E N . As Wfi were sittin;j; on one of tlu; benches in the park, at Rich- mond, .o-day, a livery servant passed us, with an air of self-posses- sion and importance! that indicated the easy dependence of his con- dition, and the rank or aflluence of iiis master. " That," said iMr. Slick, " is what 1 call ' a rael English rrentleman,' now. lie liv(;s in a grand house, is well dad, well led; lots of lush to drink, devilish little to do, and no care about corn laws, free- trade, blowed-up bankers, run-away lawyers, smashed-down tenants, nor nothin'. The mistress is kind to him, 'cause he is the son of her old luirse ; and the master is kind to Idm 'cause his fatlua- and grandfather livi'd with his liither and grand-father; and the boys are kind to him, 'cause; he a!^V!ky of Italy, and quotes Rogers and IJyron. He d — ns ihe climate of England in tiie vernacular tongue, relici on his own authority, and SA^r SUCK JS ENGLAND. 829 ,o\v l>o is mad on that isii'it Inmto „n to it, till 1 -ct ,1 il. as you ^iiy, iminiriu', Jvt any ritlg^^« I tlic i)i\vk, at Rich- n air ol" seU-pos^es- .endence of his «>»!- Kn.rlihh rrenlk-man,' .volliecl ; lots of lush ,ova corn huvs, iree- iiashi'd-auwn tenant?, ' > he is the son ot hei* .xuse his fath.H- ami ler ; and the boy? are ' . and the mtiid-^ are , Ivoc luul easy ieller L.edcnt men, thou- U , 'cau^c he, can drink 'master has to attend attend certain hour^ .•once, is there.'' Uis t • but he holds on to V His master takes eakes all the arrange- L either. ^Vhich is falls in loveNvith an Us from him ; he tails L from him. One is ]ks. AVho is the best l>d where the Mps is, SVho is the mo.i un- Ibr the sunny >ky ot la—ns I he climate ot 'is o\vn authority, anJ at nil t'vonts is ori^jinnl. The only difTerenee is. liis master calls tlio (•a-(!e, ' IMy liou.-e,' lie calls il, • Oin- ea>tli' ;' III-; ina-lcr says, ' My park,' and lie, say.-, ' Our jtarli.' It, is more (liifiillied to n«nds ou her rights. Her mistress'.-, interest, al "ourt, is solicited when; she can do but little at last ; the world overvalys it amazin'ly. Her interest with her mis- tress is axed for, where she can do a gread deal. There is no mis- take about that. Her mistress, wl len on t. luty. ais es or no, as a matter of course. She can't go wrong if she ibllows the iugleman. There must be but one opinion at the palace. The decision of a Queen, like that of a Pope, don't admit of no nonconeurrin'. But she can do as she pleases, and is equally sartin of success. She cries up her misti'ess's new dress, her looks, her enticin' uppeai-auce. !f 1 V >H 1 1 ! B THE ATTACn6; OR, her perfect elegance. She is agreeable, and a present rewards the honest thoughts of her simple lieart. She disiii)[)roves tlie color, the texture, the bccomiirness of the hi>t new dress. It don't suit lier complexion, it don't set well, it don't show oil" the figure, it's not lit for her lady. Slie says she raelly thinks so, and she is seldom mis- taken. The dress is condemned and given to her : she is sale, any way. — Happy gal! remain as you be, till the butt eend of time : it's better to have a mistress than a master. Take a ibol's advice for oncet, and never marry; whoever gits you will have his hands full in the halter-breakin', 1 know ; wlio the devil could give you a mouth, keep you from shyin', or kickin', or rearin', or boltin' ? A mistress i as a light bridle-hand, don't curb up too short, and can manage yon easy : but a man — Lord a massy! you'd throw hi' i the fust spring and kick you give, and break his neck, 1 know. — Oh, these are the gentlemen and ladies of England ; these are the people for whom the upper and lower orders were born — one to lind money and the other to work for 'em. Kext to bein' the duke, I'd sooner be coachman to a gentleman that i[)orts a four-in-hand than anythin' I know of to England : tour spankin', sneezin' bosses that knows how tq^pick up miles and throw 'em behind 'em in style — g'long you skunks, and turn out your toes pretty — whist — tliat's the ticket ; — streak it oif like 'iled lightning, my fox-lalls : skrew it up tight, lock down the safety-valve, and clap all steam on, my busters ; dout touch the ground, jist skim it like hawks, and leave no trail ; go a-head handsum, my old clays :Ves ! the sai'vants are tlu; ' G(!nllemen of England,' thev live like fiiihtin' cocks, and vet you hear them infar- nal rascals, the itadicals, callin' these indulgent masters tyrants, endeavorin' to make these happy critturs hate the hand that feeds them, telling these pampered gentlemen they are robbed of their rights, and how happy they'd all be if they lost their places, and only had vote by ballot andyunivar.-al suffrage. What everlastin' d — d rascals they must be !r '• Sara," said Mr. Hopewell, " I am surprised at you. I am shock- ed to h(,'ar you talk that way ; how often must 1 reprove you for swearmg V" " Well, it's enough to make a feller swear, ,to find critturs fools enough, rogues enough, and wicked enough, to cut apart nateral ties, to preach family treason, ill-will and hatred among men." '• JS'othing is so bad, Sam," he replied, " as to justify swearing. Before we attemj)t lo reibrm others, we had better reform ourselves; a profane man is a jioor preacher of morality." " 1 know it is a tbolish i)ractice. Minister," said Mr. Slick, "and I've glnn it over this good while. I've never swore scarcely since I heard that story of llie Governor to Nova' Scotia. One of their Governors was a militaj'y man, a tine, kind-hearted, generous old veteran as ever was, but he swore, every few words he said, like SAM SLIC5 IN ENGLAND. 831 >rescnt rewards the .roves tl>e color, the It don't suit her c ligiu-i!, it's not lit i .she is seldom luis- „.i- : she is siit'e, any tt eend of lime : it'd e ii i'ool's advice tor have his h:inds full I could give you a vrin', or boltiu' .'' A ,) too short, and can you'd throw hi' ' the neck, 1 knov'.— Oh, ; these are the people ,i__one to lind money the duke, I'd sooner n-lumd than anythni ^os^es that knows how hi style-g lor.j; you that's the nel^et ;— ikrew it up tight, lock ,y busters; don't touch cnotrail; goa-liead .^ the ' Genllemen ot you hear them infar- .rent masters tyrants, Te the hand ihat ieeds v are robbed of their io=t their places, and ,e. What everlastiii 1 at you. lamshock- uist 1 reprove you tor to find critturs fools 'cut apart nateral ties, Imong men." las to justify swearing. letter reform ourselves; ',aid Mr. Slick, "and I swore scarcely since 1 Scotia. One ot their Uiearted, generous old Iw words lie said, Ida^ anythin' ; no^ ^ .-ofano-like or cross, but jist a handy sort of good- luimored oath. He kinder coulchi't help it. " One day, on board iIk; steam-boat a-crossing the harbor to Dartmoulh, J heerd the Sfjuire iiere say to him, 'We ought to have luiotlicr chiireh to Halifax, Sir Thomas,' sais he, ' somewliere in (he neighborhood of Government House. St. Paul's is not half lai-jze enough lor the congregation.' 'So 1 think,' sais the (Jovernor, ' and I told the lii^h()p so; but the Hi.-hop sais to me,^ — I know that d — d well, Sii- Thomas, but where the devil is the money to come from? If 1 could lind the means, by G — d ! you should soon have a church.' " He never could tell a story without puttin' an oath into every one's mouth, whether it was a bi>liop or any one eK>e. IJut oath ov «io oath, he was u good old man that, and he was liked by every man in the province, except by thein it's no great credit to be praised by." '• Your apologies, Sam," he said '• seldom mend the matter. Re- proving }ou makes you ollend more; it is like interrupting a man in speaking who wandeis from his point, or who is argufiig wrong; you only lose time; for he speaks lougm* than he otherwise would. 1 won't ivprove, therefore, but 1 ask your forbearance as a luvor. Yes, 1 agree with you as to servants here, — 1 like the relative con- dition of master and servant in this eountrv. There is somethinirto an American or a eo!oni>t (piite touching in it — it is a sort of jmtri- !i |'|-li!i| fit-. Hut alas ! 1 fear it is not what it was ; as you say, tTie" poison dilfused through the comUrv bv rctbnners and radicals has done its work ; it has weakened the attachment of the servant to his master; it lias created mutual distru.-t. and dissolved in a great mea- sure what I may call the family tie between them. Enfeebled and diluted, however, as the feeling is in general, it is still so different from what exists among us, that there is no one thing whatever that has come under my observation that has given me so much gratifica- tion as the relation of master and servant — th(; kindness and pater- nal regard of the one, and the affectionate and j'csjiectful attachment of the other. I do not say in all cates, I'ecaii.-c ii is going out ; it is not to be found among the mushroom rich— the cotton k)rds, the novi /ioinines, ct hoc genus onine ; — but among the nohiiily and the old gentry, and some families of the middle classes, it is still to be found in a Ibrm that cannot be contemplated by a pliilanthropist without great satisfaction. In many cases the servants have been born on the estates, and their forefathers hiive held the same situa- tion in the fiimily of their master's ancestors as they do. "Their interests, their traditions, their feelings, and sympathies are identified with those of the 'house.' They jiariicipate in their master's lionors. they are jealous in supporting his rank, as if it was in part their own, and lliey feel that their advancement is connected with his promotion. They form a class — fror that class they do J\ f 382 Tiii attache; on, not expect or desire to l)C removed. Their hopes and affectioniB, tlic'ix'lurc, are. hlciuh.'d with those of their employers. Willi us it is always a temporary engagement — liope looks beyond it, and economy i'urnishes the nn-ans of extricAtion. ll is like a huildcr's contraet; he Inrnishes you with eerlain work — you pay a ecrtaiu stipulated price ; when the engagement is luHilleil, you have notii- ing t'urilier to say to eucli other. There is no liivor conferred on either side. " Punctuality, and not thanks are expected. It is a cold and mer- cenary bargain, in which tlutre is a constant struggle; on on side to repress the advance of familiarity, and on the other to resist the en- croachments of pride. The market price only is given by the mas- ter, and of course the least .service returned, that if^ compatible with the terms of the l)ai'g:iin. The supply does not Cipial the demand, and the (pialily of the arlic'.e does not eorn.'spond with the price. Those who have been servants seldom look bafk with com[)laceney on their former masters. They feel no gratituded of a secret which they would have to be forgotten by all, — that they once were household servants. '• As our population becomes more dense, this peculiarity will dis- appear, and the relation will naturally more nearly resemble that Avhich exists in Europe. There has already been a decided improve- ment within the last twenty years from this cause. Yes ! 1 like the relative condition of master and servant here amazingly — the kind- ness, mildness, indulgence and exactness of the master, — the cheer- fulness, respectfulness, punctuality and regard of the servant, — the strength, the durability, and the nature of the connection. As 1 said before, there is a patriarchal feeling about it that touches me. 1 love them both." '' Well, so do I too," said Mr. Slick, " it's a great comfort is a good help that onderstands his work and does it, and ain't above it. I must say 1 don't like to see a crittur sit down when I'm at dinner, and read the paper, like a Varmonter we had oneet. When liither asked him to ciuuige a plate — ' Squire,' sais he, ' 1 came as a help, not as a sarvant; if you want one o' thera, get a liriiisher, or a nigger. 1 reckon 1 am a free and enlightened citize)'. as good as you be. Sarvants are eritturs that don't grow in our backwoods, and if you take me for one you are mistaken in this chiM, that's ail. It' you want me to woik, I'll work ; if you want me to wait on you, you 11 wait for me a long time lUst, 1 calkelate.' Vso, Squire, we haiUe got no barvants, we ve only got helps. The British have got sarvanis, and then they are a "nation sight better than helps, tho' tiiey are a little proud and sarsy sometimes, but 1 don't wonder, for they are actilly the GerUlemcn of JUngland, that's a fact."/ SAil SLICK IN KNGLAND. 833 pes JMid affectionw, ,?ers. Wiih u.> it U ,s Ix'vond it, mul [ is liLe u luildtM-'s -you l)rty 1^ I't'i'liii" [ccl, you li:ivc noth- I'iivor conlun-ed ou It is a cold and nu'V- , Hers ; and to my mind they are the best off of the two, tor they have no care. Yes, they are far above our helps, I must say ; but their misfortunate niggers here are a long chalk below our slaves to the south, and the cotton-manufacturers are a thousand times harder task-masters than our cotton plantei-s, that's a iaet." '• Negroes !" I said in some astonishment; " why, surely you are aware we have emancipated our negroes. U^e have no slaves." " Come, Squire,'' said he, " now don't git your back up witli me; but lor goodness gracious sake never say we. It would make folks snicker here to hear you say that. It's as bad as a sarvant sayin' 'our castle' 'our park' — 'our pictur' gallery,' and so on. What right have you to say ' We ?' You ain't an Englishman, and old Bull won't thank you for your familiarity, I know. You had better Kay, ' Our army,' tho' you have notain' to do with it; or 'our navy,' tho' you form no part of it ; or ' our House of Lords,' and you can't boast one Lord ; or ' our House of Commons,' and you hante a shigle blessed member there ; or ' our authors,' — well, p'raps you may say that, because you are an exception : but the only reason you warn't shot, was, that you was the fust colonial bird that tlew across the Atlantic, and you was saved as a curiosity, and will be stulfed some day ui- inother, and stuc]^ up iu a museum. The ucxt oae will Jj^i 331 THE ATTACH^ ; OH, ho plnkod, for fcnr lio should oro»s (Ik; brood. — *()iir!' iroavons JinJ nirlli! I wonder vow liniite too imicli pridf to siiv tliiit ; it's too mu- vaiity lor the lilu! o' yoii. y^IIosv cim \oii ridl voiirsi-ll' a part of an cinpirc, in the <:;ov<'riiin('Mt of which you havcj no voict'? — iVoin ^vliosc honors yon arc cxchuh'd, I'roni whou; sarvicc yon arc .-iuit onl? — by whom you ai'c; looked on as a cuu>utuer of iron and cotton goods, as a hewej- of wood for the timber marixct, u curt-r of lisii t'l freight their vc^.'^els — as worth iiavin, bi'causo yon atford a station for an adunral, a place tor a ;^overnor, a couiinand ibr a gineral ; be- cause, like the stone steps to a hall door, you enable others to rise, but never move yourselves. 'Our!' It makes mw yurl inwardly to hear you nst! that word 'Our.' I'll tell you what a colonial 'Our' is. I'll tell you what awaits you: in the process of a few years, after your death, all your iamily will jjrohably sink into the elass of laborers. Some on 'em mtiy struggle on tor a while, and maintain the position you hav(; ; but it won't be long. Down, down, down they nnist go; rise they never can. It is as impossible for a aolonist to rise above, the surface, as for a stone io float on a river. /EvX3ry one knows this but yourself, and that is the reason gentlemen will not go and live among yon. They lose cast( — they descend on tho scale of I'fe — they cease to be Komaiis. Din this for ever in tho ears of Uritish statesmen : tell them to make you Knglit-lniKMi, or to give you a Royal Prince for a King, and make you a n(!W people. But thaP^o be made fun of by the Yankees, to be looked down upon by the English, and to be despised by yourselves, is n condiiion that you oidy desarve as long as you tolerate it./'Iso, don't use that word 'Our' till you are entitled to it. IJe formal, and everlastin' polite. Say 'your empire, 'your' army, &:c. ; and never strut under bor- rowed feathers, and say ' our,' till you can point to your own mem- bers in both houses of Parliament — to your own countrymen fillin' such posts in the imperial sarvice as they are qualified tor by their talents, or entitled to in right of the [lopulation they represent; and if anybody is struck up of a heap by your say in' 'yours' instead of 'ours,' tell them the reason; say — that was a lesson I learnt from Sam Slick, the dockmaker: and one thing is sartin,to give the devil his due, that feller wa^. ' no fool,' at any rate. But to git buik to what we was a-talkin' of. We have two kinds of niggers in the States — free niggers and slaves. In the north they are all free, in the south all in bondage. Is'ow the free nigger may be a member of Congress, but he can't get there ; he may be President, but he guesses he can't ; and he reckons right, lie \\\i\y marry Tyler's darter, but she won't have him ; he may bo embassador to tlie Court of St. James's, Victoria, if he could be only appointed; or he may command the army or the navy if they'd only let him — that's his condition. The slave is a slave, and that's his condition. Kow the English have two sorts of niggers — American colonists, who ai'e frev SAM SMCK IN ENGLAND. 835 V tl.ivt ; u'rt KH) sivr- ,. ,„, voice .'-»'■;"'; ^,vici' you nrc >!>"< .rofiron aiul cotion . ,M.nnToni>hl'. you utVora u .uuion nuble otluM-H lo nse, en uv. wr\ nnvanlly whutacolouiul'Our ee.. of u tew years, sink into the class ot ^^^hiU^tuul mmntam Down, down, ilown ,no«sibl<' for a/o onist ;ioa.viver./b>^ery roason sentlem*^^ w I __tlu-Y dosccnd on the ,in thi. for evt-r in the you l<:ngli.hm.>n, or to l,Uc you a n(iw veople. obeVokea down upon Ives, is a coMduion tut N,,don't use that ^-od , ,;a everla^tiu' ^o^ue. ,,.ver strut under boi- oiut to your own mem- own countrymen tiUni •e qualitied tor by thei .ntbeyrein-csentjuud Ivin' -yours' instead ot r lesson 1 learnt trom sartin,togivetl;edev.l te 15ut to i;it back to kinds of ni-^crs in tlie ;h they ure uU tree, m Jger may be a uveiuber L%e President, bu^^l^;^^ 'lie may marry lyl^i s . nbas.ior to the Court Iy appointed ; or he may Pouly lei him-that's lu» colonists, who ai-etre9 white nijrqeis ; and niaiinfnrturcrs' lal)or<'rMit homo, and they iiviii-t, like our I'rce lilack iii;:jr»r, niav he a ini'inlier of rarliiiineiit, l)iit hi' ean't jret there; he inav bo jjoveriior, l)ut he gii(',-..>.('S he eiiii't, and he fjues-c-; ri;.'ht ; he may iiiarrv ail Mii'ili>h iiohN'tnan's (hirter, if ^heM onlv liavt; him; lie may he an emlt;i.>sa(lur to our Court at \Va-hiii;,M(>ii, it' lie could he only ap|)oinled; he may coii'tnand the army or the fleet, if h(( had tho eommission ; and that s his condition.— VV colonist and a iVee ni;.'^er (ioi.'t ililfer in anythin' hut color: both r\ave nalu'd rights, hut they have uo power given 'em to cloliie those rights, and that's the naked trulli/ '* lour blockheads of Liberals to Canada, are for ever yelpin* about Vjionsible government; if it was all they think it is, what would be the good of it ? \Now, I'll tell you th(M*emeily. Don't repeal tho Union, lay down your life fust, but have a closer \mion. Let 'em form a Colonial council board to London, and appoint some colonists to it, that they may h'cl they have st>me voice in the go- vernment of the iMUpire. Let '<'m raise provincial regiments, and ollicer them with natives, that you may have somt.'thin' to do with the army. J^et 'em have some man-of-war devoted to Colony otliees, that you may have >omethin' to do with the navy. /All y«u 've got in that line is a mi.-eral)le litth; cutter, paid by yourselves, commanded by o»e of yourselves, Caj)taln Darby : and he has sot a proper pattern to your navy. He has seized more Yankee vessels in the last seven years for breakin' the tish treaty, than all the ad- mirals and all the s(|uadrons on the American coast has, put to- gether twice over, lie and his vessel costs you a few hundred a year; th«.'m fleets durin' that time has cost more nor all Halifax would sell for to-morrow, if jnit up to vundu. lie desarves a feather in his cap from your Government, whielr he won't get, and a tar- jacket covered with feathers from us, which he is very likely to get. Yes, have some man-o'-war there with colony officers like him, then say, 'our navy,' if you like. Xlvtiuove the restrictions on colonial clergy, so that if they desarve promotion in the church to Britain, they needn't be shut out among big bogs, black logs, and thick fogs, for ever a'nd ever; and then it tante the Church of England, but * our church.' If there is a feller everlastin' strong in a colony, don't make it his interest to wrastle with a Covernor ; but send him to another province, and make him one himself. Let 'em have a i\lend;er t.) Parlianunt, and he will be a safety valve to let off steam. It's then ' our I'lirlianient.' Open the door to youngsters, and i».'t 'cm see stars, ribbons, garters, coronets, and all a-hangin' up agin the wall, ai^l when their mouths water, and they lick their cliops as if they'd like a taste of them, then say, — ' >Jow, d — n you ! go a-head and win 'em, and if you win the race, you shall have 'em, and if you lose, turn to, import bome gentlemen, and improve th« ^ ^ 836 THE ATTACHE; OR, K I 11 breed, and mind your trainin', and try agin ; all you got to do, '-e to win. Go a-hcad, I'll bet on you, if you try. Let death or victory ' be your colony motto— Westminster Abbey or the House of Lords. Go a-head, my young 'coons, wake snakes, and walk your chalks, Btreak it off like 'iled lightenin', and whoever gets in first, wins.' Yes, that's the remedy. But now they have no chance/^ " Now, as to the manufacturin' slave, let's look at tire poor devil, for I pity him, and I despise and hate his double-faced, iron-hearted, - radical, villanous, low-bred, tyrant of a master, as I do a rattlesnake. Oh ! he is dift(?l'ent from all the sarvants in England ; all other sarvants are well off — most too welf off, if anythin', for they are pampered. But these poor critturs ! oh, their lot is a hard one — not from the Corn-laws, as their Radical employers tell 'em — not because they have not univarsal suffrage, as demagogues tell 'em — nor because there are Bishops who wear lawn sleeves instead of cotton ones, as the Dissenters tell 'em — but because there is a law of natur' violated in their case. The hawk, the shark, and the tiger ; the bird, the lish, and the beast, even the reasonin' brute, man, each and all feed, nurture, and protect, those they spawn, hatch, or breed. It's a law written in the works of God. They have it in instinct, aad find it in reason, and necessity and affection are its roots and foundation, llie manufacturer alone obeys no instinct, won't listen to no reason, don't see no necessity, and hante got no affections. He calls together the [joor, and gives them artilicial powers, unfits them for all other pursuits, works them to their utmost, fobs all the profits of t'^eir labor, and when he is too rich and too proud to progress, or whc.i bad spekelations has ruined him, he desarts these unfortunate wretches whom he has created, used up, and ruined, and leavei them to God and their country to provide for. But that ain't all nother, he first sots them agin the House of God and his Ministers, (the only Church, too, in the whole world, that is the Church of the poor — the Church of England, the fust duty of which is to provide lor the instruction of the poor at the expense of the rich,) and then he sots them agin the farmer, who at last has to feed and provide for them in their day of trouble. What a horrid system ! he first starves their bodies, and then p'isens their minds — he ruin^ them, body and soul. Guess, I needn't tell you, what this gony is?-^he is a Liberal ; he is rich, and hates those that are richer; he is proud, and hates those of superior station. His means are beyond his rank ; his education juid breedin' is below that of the aristocracy. He ain't satistie'' with his own position, for he is able to vie with his supe- I'iors ; lie is dissati.-fied with theirs because he ciin't come it. He is ashamed to own tiiis, his real motive, he therefore calls in principle to Ins aid. He is, then, from prijiciple, a Iteformer, and under tliat j»rotty word, does all the mischief to society he can.^ '' Tbea comes to his aid, tor tigures of speech, the bread of the SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 337 rou got to do, '& to death or victory J House of Lords, walk your chalks, rets in first, wins, chance/ [c at tlfc poor devi , .faced, iron-liearted,- i I do a rattlesnake. England; all other ,ythin', for they are ■ lot is a hard one— doyers tell 'em— not maj^ogues tell 'em— n sleeves instead ot ticause there is a law shark, and the tiger; nin' brute, man, each ,awn, hatch, or breed. ey have it in instinct, etion are its roots and » instinct, won't hsten ,got no affections. Ue tl powers, unfits them ost, fobs all the profits . proud to progress, or arts these unfortunate ,d ruined, and leaves or but that am t all tod and his Ministers, ,t is the Church ot the ,f which is to provide of the rich,) and then feed and provide lor system 1 he tirst starves ruins them, body and visvl-heisaLiberal; ,he is proud, and hates beyond his raiik; his autocracy. Ueamt e to vie with his supe- 1 can't come it. He is Ubre calls in pnnciple [tbrmer, and under tUat le can./ , ,eech, the bread of the poor, the starvin man's loaf, the widder's mite, the orphan's mouldy crust. If he bwers the price of corn, he lowers wattes. If ho lowers wages, lie curtails his aimual outlaj^ ; the poor is made poorer, but the unfortunate wretch is too ignorant to know this. He is made richer himself, and he is wide awake. It won't do to say all this, so he ups with his speakia' trumpet, and hails principle agin to convoy him. He is an Anti-Corn-Law leaguer on principle, he is agin agricultural monopoly, the protective system, the landed gentry. He is the friend of the poor. What a super-superior villain he is ! — he first cheats and then mocks the poor, and jist ups and asks the blessin' of God on his enterprise, by the aid of fanatical, furious and seditious stroUm' preachei's. Did you ever hear the like of that. Squire ?" " Never," I said, *• but once." " And when was that ?" "Never mind — go on with your description; you are eloquent to-day." " No ; I wont go on one single blessed step if you don't tell me,- it's some fling at us, I know, or you wouldn't hum and haw that way. Now, come out with it — I'll give you as good as you send, I know. What did you ever know equal to that ?" " I knew your Government maintain lately, that on the high seas the flag of liberty should protect a cargo of slaves. It just occurred to me, that liberty at the most-head, and slavery in the hold, resembled the conduct of the manufacturer, who, wh'le he oppressed ' the poor, affected to be devoted to their cause." " I thought so, Squire, but you missed the mark that time, so clap in another ball, and try your hand agin. The Prince de Joinville boarded one o' your gun brigs not long ago (mind you, not a tradin' vessel, but a man-o'-war) and took her pilot out of her to steer his ship. Now if your naval man had a-seized the French officer by the cape of his coat with one hand, and the seat of his breeches with the other, and chucked him head and heels overboard, and taught him the new game of leap I'rog, as he had ought to have done, you'd a know'd a little better than to ax us to let your folks board our vessels. It don't become you British to talk about right o' sarch arter that. I guess we are even now — ain't we ? Yes, I pity these Poor ignorant devils, the Epglish niggers, I do from my soul. If our slaves are old or infirm, or ill, their master keeps them, and keeps them kindly, too. It is both his interest to take care of their health, and his duty to provide for 'em if ill. He knouj his niggers, and they know him. They don't work like a white man. Th(jy know they must be fed, whether they work or not. White niggers know they must starve if they don't. Our fellers dance and sing lilie crickets. Your fellers' hearts is too heavy to sing, and their limbs too tired to dance. ^ comipon interest binds our master and \ 15 88 THE attache; or, i'!' > p'.ave. There is no tie between the Eniflisli factor and his ni^jfer, ^ He don't know liis men by sij^ht — they don't know him but by name^ Diir folks are and mnst bd kind. Yours ain't, and needn't h'\ They pretend, tiien, and in (hat pretence become powerl'ul, 'cause they have tlie masses with Mieni. Cuimin' as Ibxes lii'in eritlers, t(»o. They know som<^ one would take up the cause of" tlivm nig<^ers, and therelbre they put them on a false scent — pretend to tight tiieir battles, and, instead of waitni* to be attacked, fall to and attack the )u)or farmer; while the owners of England, therefore, are a-defendin' of themselves from the onjust charge of oppressin' the poor, these •ittm-s are plunderui' the poor like winky. Ah ! Squire, they want j)rotec!in' — there should bj cruisers sent into those manuficturin' seas. The hulks there arc under your own Hag — board them — examine them. If the thumb-screws are there, tuck up some of the cotton Jjords with their own cotton ropes — that's the ticket, Sir, ventilate the ships — see the owners have Uiid in a good stock of provisions for a long voyage, that the critturs aint too crowded, ihat they have [)rayers every Sunday." « " ' Very goud, Sara," said Mr. Hopewell ; " your heart 's in tho right place, Sam. I like to hear you talk that way ; and let the cliaplain not be the barber or shoemaker, but a learned, pious, loyal wan of the Church of England ; let him " ** Let them," said Mr. Slick, " take care no crittur talks mutinous to them — no chartiem — no radicalism — no agitation — no settin' of them agin' their real friends, and p'i.^onin' of their minds. W there is any chaps a doin' of this, up with them in a minute, and let the boatswain lay three dozen into 'em, in rael wide awake airnest ; and vliile they are in hospital, get some of the cheap bread they talk so auch about. (Did you ever sec it. Squire? It's as black as if it lad dropt into a dye-tub — as coarse as sawdust — so hard, mould can't urow over it, and so intkrnal poor, insects ctm't eat it.) Yes, send :o the Baltic for this elegant cheap bread — this wonderful ble?sin — his cure for all evils, and make 'em eat it till their backs is cured. i'dl old Joe Sturge to look to home albre he talks of the States ; for lave ships ain't one mossel wuss than some of the factories under his own nose. " Ah ! Squire, Peel has a long head, Muntz has a long beard, and John Russell has a cussed long tongue ; but head, tongue, and beard, put togethci', ain't all that's wanted. There wants a heart to feel, a head to conceive, and a resolution to execute, the protection for these })oor peoi)lt3. It ain't cheap bread, nor ballot, nor reform, nor chartism, nor free-trade, nor repealin' unions, nor such nonsensCi that they want. \ When a man collecls a multitude of human bein'a together, and ibumls a factory, the safety of the country and the in- terests of humanity require there should be some f.ecurity t^ken foi the protection of the nii.stbrtunate ' Eogiioh ^^igj^ers.' "^ SAM SLICK IN ENGLAND. 339 and hi3 nij;sen u,n but by nan^o, iv.ul lu-edu't b'j. . nowci-lul, '^'luise iios iii-'in critu^rs, of th"m nigl^'^i'f* ■tend to a:J;bL their [ to and attack the )re,area-dctendiu .in' tlie poor, these Squire, they Nvant hose maimfacturm »acr— board them-- tucUupsomeotUie al'6 the ticket bii, i,, a good stock of 5 aint too crowded, Youi* heart's in the .rNvay;andletU^ , learned, yious, loyal •vittur talks mutinous licir minds. It vnc a minute, and let the e awake airnest, and t> bread they talk .o 'Vs as black as It It -so hard, mould cant .'teat it.) Yes, send ^ svouderful b e.sn^ -- , jueir backs is cured- dk.^ of the States ;^ov of the factories under I Uas a long beard, and lut head, tongue, and Wre wants a heart to Pute, the protc^on Lr ballot, nor retoim, V v., nor ^uch nonsense, I ude of hnmaubems Ctuntryandtliein. I o,..ii-iiv taken loi lome >-ecu I ujr »«• |igjrers.y CHAPTER LXII. INDEPENDENCE, Mu. Hopewell, who was much struck with the Attache's re- marks in the last chapter, especially those in reference to the colo- nies, pursued the same subject again to-day. " Squire," said he, "if Greut IJritain should withdraw her protec- tion from the North American provinces, as I fear she will ut no distant period, would they form a separate nation, or become incor- porated with u% ? This is a serious question, and one that should be well considered. There is a kindness, and yet a perverseness, about English rule in America, that is perfectly astonisliing. Their liber- ality is unbounded, .ind their indulgence unexampled ; butVthere is a total absence of political sagacity, no settled principles of Colonial Governnien*t, and no firmness and decision whatever/ The result cannot be but most disastrous. They seem to forget that the pro- vince's are parts of a monarchy ; and instead of fostering monarchical principles, every step they take tends not only to weaken them, but to manifest a decided preference for republican ones. Demagogues discovering this weakness and vacillation of their rulers, have ibund by experience, that agitation is always successful ; that measures of concession or conciliation are the sure and cert:»in fruits of turbu- lence ; and that, as loyalty can always be depended upon, its claims are sure to be sacrificed to those whose adhesion it is necessary to purcHiase. To satisfy these democrats, and to gratify their ambition, the upper houses of the legislature have been rendered a mere null ity ; while the popular branches have encroached in such a manner upon the executive, as to render the Governor little more than a choice of being the intriguing head, or the degraded tool of a party. If they succeed in the present struggle in Canada, he will be virtu- ally superseded ; the real governor will be the leading demagogue, and the nominal one will have but two duties left to fulfil, namely, tu keep a good table for the entertainment of his masters, and to afiix his niime to such documents as may be prepared and presented for his signature, llcbellion will then have obtained a bloodless victory, and the colonies will be independent." \y^ •• D— -n them !" said Colonel . ^li(^k : " they don't desarve to be free. Why don't they disguise themselves as Indgins, as we did, and gb 1.1 m >»tl'.-to.'._»^. 840 THE ATTACHfi; OR, down to the wharf, board the cutter, and throw the tea into the har- bor, as we did? Creation ! maii, they don't de.^arve to be free, the . cowards ! the} want to be indeMendent, and they darj^n't say so^—V And he w<'nt out of tiie room, muttering, " that there nevei' was, and never couhl be, but one liunker IlilK" " The loyal, the rij^ht-minded l>riti.sh party in the coloniea," con- tinued Mr. Hopewell, "are discouraged and disheartened by the countenance and protection shown to these unprincipled agitators. These are things obvious to all the world ; but there are other causes in operation which require local experience and a knowledge of the human mind to appreciate properly. Great Britain is a trading country, and values everything by dollars and cents, as much as we do ; but there are some tilings beyond the reach of money. English statesmen flatter themselves that if they abstain from taxing the colo- nies, if they defend them by their fleets and armies, expend large sums on canals and railroads, and impose no part of the burden of the national debt upon them, they will necessarily appreciate the ad- vantages of such a happy condition ; and, in contrasting it with that of the heavy public exactions in the States, feel that it is both their duty and tiieir interest to be quiet. " These are sordid considerations, and worthy of the counting- house in which Poulctt Thompson learned his first lessons in political economy. Most colonists are native-born British subjects, and have, together -with British prejudices, British pride also. They fieel that they are to the P^nglish what the English are to the Chinese, outer barbarians. They observe, with pain and mortification, that much of the little local patronage is reserved for Europeans ; that when natives are appointed to otlice by the Governor, in many cases they have hardly entered upon their duties, when they are superseded by persons sent from this side of the water, so vastly inferior to them- selves in point of ability and moral character, that they feel the in- jury they have sustained is accompanied by an insult to the commu- nity. The numerous instances you have mentioned to me in the Customs Department, to which I think you said Nova Scotia paid eight thousand pounds a-year, fully justify this remark, and some other flagrant instances of late in the Post-office, you admit have been keenly felt fvora one end of your province to the other. ^Vhile de- prived or' a part of the littje patronage at hom*., there is no external field for them whatevery^ It would be a tedious story to enter into details, and tell you how it arises, but so it is, the imperial service is practically closed to them. The remedy just pro[)Osed by Sam is the true one. Tliey feel that they are surrounded by their superiors, not iiTtalent or education, but by those who are superior to them in interest — that tiiey present a field lor promotfou to others, but have none for themselves. As time rolls on in its rapid but noiseless course, they have opportunities ofifered to them to measure their con- SA» SLICE IN ENGLAND. 341 >a into the har- to be free, ^le, rsn't say ^c*-"-/ ; nevei" was, and e colonies," con- , ■artened by the icipled agitators. : are other causes .inowleage of the ain is a trading s, as much as we money. Eughsh m taxing Uie colo- nic, expend large • of the burden ot appreciate tiie ad- apting it with that hat it is both their LT of the counting- It lesions in political subjects, and have, io. Tbey teel that ' tiie Chinese, outer itication, that much ropeans ; that when ia many cases they ' are superseded by Iv inferior to them- ,lt they feel the m- v^ult to the commu- ioned to me in the Nova Scotia paid lark, and some other ,u admit have been , other. \Vhile de- Ihere is no extermU ,tory to enter into „e imperial servico proposed by Sam is d by their superiors, ' superior to tliem m to others, but have rapid but noiseless mea&ure their con- dition with others. To-day the little nnfled^jed ensif^n sports among them for the first time, in awkward consciousness, his new ivi:! men- tals, passes away to otiier colonies, in his tour of duty; and while the recollection of the rosy boy is yet fresh in tlieir memories, he returns, to their amazement, in command of a recinienl. TIk; same circle is again described, and the General commanding i\w. forces receives the congratulations of his early friends. The wheel of for- tune again revolves, and the ensign ripens into a govcr!'/ r. Five years of gubernatoi'ial service in a colony are leckoned Hvc years of exile among the barbarians, and amount to a claim tor further pro- motion. He is followed by the aifec.'onrte regard of those among whom he lived into his ni'W sphere of duty, and in five years more he informs them he is again advanced to^'urther honors. A colonist naturally asks himself, how is this? When I iirst knew these men I was toiling on in my present narrow spiiere ; they sto[)ped and smiled, or pitied my hinnble lalh>rs, and pas.-ed on, sure of suceesa; while here I am in the same p(>sition, not only withoiii a hope but without a possibility of rising in tlie world ; and yitt who and what are they? I have seen them, heard them, conv(;rsed with them, studied them, and compared them with ourselves. I iind most of us e(iual in information and abilities, and some iiifiniieiy supei-ior to them. Why is this? Tlieir tone and manner pain me too. Tiiey are not rude, but their manner is sujxiroilious ; they do not inten- tionaliy offend, but it would seem as it' they I'oiild not avoid it.V iMy country is spoken of as their exile, their sojourn as a page of lile ob- literated, the society as by no means so had as they li:ul heard, but possessing no attractions for a genth-man, the d:iy of departure is regarded as release from prison, and the lio[)e expressed that this 'Foreign Service' will be rewarded as it deservesy^ All that they feel and express on this subject is unhappily too true. It is no place for a (/eutiimin. The pestih.'utitd blasts of democracy, and the cold and chilly winds from Downing Street, have eng 'iidered an atmos- phere so uncongenial to a gentleman, that he feels he cannot live here. Yes! it is too true, the race will soon become extinct. " Why, then, is the door of promotion not open to me also," he inquires, ''as it is the only ho[)e left to me. Talk not to me of light taxes, I despise your money; or of the favor of defending mc^ I can defend myself. 1. too, have the ambition lo command, as well as the forl)earauce to obey. Talk of free trade to ti'aders, huf ''f iiouorable competition in the d{q)artuieiits of state lo geull'.vnen. Ojumi your Senate to us, and receive our re|)resentatives. Sele'et some of our ablest men for governors ot" other colenies, and nt>t condemn us to be always governed. It can be no honor lo a peoj)!e to be a part of your empire, if they are excluded from all honor; even bondsmen sometimes merit and receive their manumission. May not a colonist receive tlxxt advancement to which he is entitled by his talents, his I irr it i I * m\ 842 THE ATTACH^; OB, pi'blic services, or his devotion to your cause ? Xo one doubts youf justice — the name of an Englishman is a j^uur.intee for that: but we have not the same confidence in your int'oi-niation as to our con- dition. Read liistol^y and learn ! In the late rebellion, Sir Jolni Colbourne commanded two or three regiments of Driiish tro(>]).s. A*'l«rever they were detached they behaved as British soldiers do Uf all occasion;', with great gallantry and with great skill. His a: iigcments were judicious, and upon two or three occasions where he attacked some small bodies of rebels he repulsed or dispersed them, lie was acting in the line of his profession, and he performed a duly lor which he was paid by his country, lie \w)s rewarded with the thanks of Parliament, a peerage, a pension, and a govern- ment. A colonist at the same time raised a body of volunteers from an irregular and undisciplined militia, by the weight of his pcr.-onal character and inlluencc, and with prodigious exertion and fatigue, traversed the upper pruvinc*', awakened the energies of the people, and drove out of the countiy both native rebels and Ibreign symj)a- thizers. //e saved the coluini. lie was not acting in the line of Ida profession, nor discharging a duty lor which he was paid by his country. lie was le warded by a reluctant and barren grant of knightliood. Don't misunderstand me: 1 have no intention what- ever of undervaluing the services of that excellent man and distin- guished otlicer, Sir John Colbourne; he earned and deserved his re- ward ; but what I mean to say is, the colonist has not had the re- ward that he earned and deserved — '■Ex unr disce oiniies." \^"The American llevohition has shown you tiiut colonists can fur- nish both generals and statesmen ; take care and encouiage their most anxious desire to furnish them to you, and do not drive them to act against you. / Yet then, as now, you thought them incapable of any connna; 1 ;* we have had and stili have men of the same stamp ; our cemeteries suggest the same reliections as your own. The moralist often says : — * Perliaj.s in tliis neglected spot is iaiil. Some heart once pregnant wilii celestial (ire; Hands that the rod of eniph-e niij^lil liave swa}fed, Ur wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre. • • The applause of listening senates to command ; The threats ot' pain and ruin to despise ; To scalier plenty o'er a smiling land. And reaU iheir history in u ualion's eyes. ' Their lot forbad.—' " Whether the lot of the present generation will also forbid it, you must decide — or circumstances may decide it for you. Yes, Squire, this is an important subject, and one that I have often mentioned to ne doubts youf I'or tlisit: but us to our con- llioii, Sir John liriii>li troops. tis^h soUlie-rs do rent skill. His occasions where d or dispersed ul he performed e was rewarded 1, au'l a govern- volunteers from L of his i)er.-onal lon and fatigue, .'S of the people, I foreign sjnipu- in the line of his was paiil by his barren grant of ) intention what- ; man and distiu- deservt'd his re- not had the re- \oiniies" [colonists can fur- encourage their 1) not drive them |l them incapable ;U!n of the tamo •ns as your own. lycd, SAM SLICK IN KN'GLAXD. 813 Iso forbid it, you Yes, Squire, ydti. Instead of fostering men of talent, and endeavoring to raiso an order of superior men in the country, so that in them the aristo- cratic feeling which is so peculiarly monarchical may take root and flourisli ; Goverinnent has repressed them, sacriliced thf-m to dema- gogues, and reduced the salaries of all ollieial men to that degree, that but suit ed the ravenous envy of democracy. Instead of build- ing u{) the second branch, and the order that is to furnish and sup- port it, everything has been done to lower and to break it. In pro portion as they are diminished, tiie demagogue rises, when he in hi ■ turn will find the field too limited, and the reward too small ; and. unrestrained by moral or religious feeling, having no principles in guide, and no honor to intluence him, he will draw the sword as h;; has done, and always will do, when it suits his views, knowing how great the plunder will be if he succeeds, and how certain his pardon will be if he fails, lie has literally everything to gain and nothing (o lose in his struggle for ' Independence.' " m Iten mentioned to CHAPTER LXIII. THE EBB TIDE. To-day Mr. Slick visited me as usual, but 1 was sti'uck witli astonishment at the gi'cat alteration in his dress and manner — I scarcely knew him at first, the metamorphosis was so great. He lia-l shaved off liis moustache and imperial, and from having worn thos military appendages so long, the skin they liad covered not bein; equally exposed to the infiuence of the sun as other parts of his fact- looked as white as if it had been painted. His hair was out of curl the diamond brooch had disappeared from his bosom, the gold chai; from his neck, and the brilliant from his finger. His attire was lik that of other people, and, with the exception of being better made, not unlike what he had worn in Nova Scotia. In short, he looked like himself once more. " Squire," said he, " do you know who I am ?" " Certainly ; wlio does not know you? for you may well say, ^no: to know me, argues thyself unknown." " Aye, but do you know what I am ?" *' An AltaclK," 1 said. ''Well, 1 aia'i, I've given that up — I've resigned — I ain't no longer an Attache ; I'm vSam Slick, the clockmaker, agin — at lea&; what's left of me. I've recovered my eyesight — I can see without glasses now. You and minister have opened my eyes, and what you i;' : AuMrituu. --:-^-- 844 THE ATT^CH^; OR, couldn't do, father has done. Father was madder nor me by a long chalk. I've been a fool, that's a fact. I've had my head turned ; but, thank fortin', I've got it straight agin. I siiould like to see the man now that would pull the wool over my eyes. I've been made a tiger and " *' ijion you m(^an, a tiger is a term applied to " " Exactly, so it is ; I meant a lion. I've been made a lion of, and makin' a lion of a man is plaguy apt to make a fool of a feller. I can tell you. To be asked here, and asked there, and introduced to this one, and introduced to that one, and petted and tlrUcred, and made much of, and have all eyes on you, and wh rover you go, hear a whisperin' click with the last letters of your name — ick — lick — Slick — accordin' as you catch a part or a whole of the word; to have fellers listen to you to hear you talk, tj see the papers full of your name, and whenever you go, or stay, or return, to have your motions printed. The celebrated Sam Slick — the popular Mr. Slick — the immoi-tal Clockmaker — that dis- tinguisheu moralist and humorist — that great judge of human natur', Mr. Slick ; or to see your phiz in a winder of a print-shop, or in a wood-cut in a picturesque jjaper, or an engine on a railroad called arter you; or a yaciit, or vessel, or racehorse called Sam Slick. "Well, it's enough to make one a little grain consaited, or to carry his head high, as a feller I oncet knew to Slickville, who was so ev- erlastin* consaited, and cocked his chin up so, he walked right off the eend of a wharf without seein' the water, and was near about drowned, and sp'iled all his bran new clothes. Yes, I've. had my head turned a bit, and no mistake, but it hante been long. I know human natur', and read the human heart too easy, to bark long up a wrong tree. I soon twigged the secret. One wanted to see me, whether I was black or white; another wanted to brag that I dinttl with 'em ; a third wanted me as a decoy bird to their table, to entice others to come ; a fourth, 'cause they made a p'int of bavin' distin- guished peoj)le at their house ; a fifth, 'cause they t^^ot/ up for patrons of literary men ; a sixth, 'cause they wanted colony politics ; a sev- enth, 'cause it give 'em something to talk of. But who wanted mo for myself? Sam Slick, a mechanic, a retail travellin' trader, a wooden clockmaker. ' Aye,' sais I, to myself sais j[, ' who wants you for yourself, Sara,' sais I ; ' books, and tame, and name out of the question, but jist 'Old Slick, the Yankee Pedlar?' D — n,the one o* them,' sais I. I couldn't help a-thinkin' of Hotspur Outhouse,- son of the clerk to Minister's church to Slickville. He was sure to git in the wind wherever he went, and was rather touchy when he was that way, and a stupid feller too. Well, he was axed everywhere a'most, jist because he had a'moit a beautiful voice, and sung like a canary bird. Folks thought it was no party without Hotspur — they, made everything of him. Well, his voi(^e changed, as it does some- 31' me by a long y head turned ; [1 like to see the I've been made de a lion of, and )1 of a feller. I and introduced id and flp^ered, , and wh ivver [•a of your name art or a whole Bar you talk, tj you go, or stay, celebrated Sam maker — that dis- of human natur', rint-shop, or in a a railroad called •ailed Sam Slick, tiited, or to carry L', who was so ev- ilked right off the was near about res, I've. had my n long. I know ;o bark long up a anted to see me, Ibrag that I din(.d iir table, to entice of havin' distin- |ofc up for patrons politics ; a sev- who wanted mo ,vellin' trader, a L ' who wants you Inarae out of the D — n.the one o' ir Outhouse,- son li was sure to git ;hy when he was [xed everywhere and sung like a |t Hotspur — they, as it does "some- SAM SLICK IX EXCxLAXn. 345 times in men, and there was an oend of all his everlastin' splendid fiingin'. No sooiu^r said tiian done-^thcn! was an eend to his inviia- ti MIS too. All at oncet folks found out that he was a'niost a horrid stupid crittur ; wondrivd wiiat anybody ever could iiave seed in hira to ax him to tlieir liouses — such a na>ty, cross, ([uarrelsome, good- for-nothin' feller. Poor Hotspur ! it nearly broke his heart. Well, like Hotspur, who was axed for his singin', I reckon I was axed tor the books; but as lor me, myself, 8ani Slick, wliy nobody caretl a pinch of snntf. The film dropt right oif my eyes at oiic<;t — my mind took it all ii A a draft, like a glass cf lignuni-vity. Tell you where the mistake t'as, Squire, and I only claim a half of it — t'other half beUnigs to the nobility. It was this : I felt as a fn.-e and enli^ht- ened citizen of our great nation, on a fbotin of equality witii any man here, and so I was. Every noble here looks on a republicvn as on afootin' with the devil. We didn't start fair; if we was, 1 ain't afeerd of the race, I tell you. I guess they're goL some good sto- ries about me to larf at, 'for in course liishions alters in different })laces. I've dressed like them, and tried to talk like them, on the principle that v.'hen a feller is in Tui'key, he must do as the Turkeys do; or when they go from Canady to IJullUlo, do as the Buffaloes do. I have the style of a man of fashion, of the upper crust circles, and can do the thing now as genteel as any on 'em ; but in course, in larnin. I put my foot in it sometimes, and splashed a little of the nastiest. It stands to reason it couldn't be otherwise. I'll tell you what fust sot me a considerin' — I saw Lady , plague take her name, I rorgit it now, but you know who I mean, it's the one that pretends t.o be so fond of foreigners, and tries to talk languages — Gibberish! oh! that's her name. Well, I saw Lady Gibberish go up to one of my countrywomen, as sweet as sugar-candy, and set lnu' a-talkin', .list to git out of her a few Yankee words, and for no other airthly pur[)Ose, (ibr you know we use some words different from what they do here), and then go off, and telilhe story, and larf ready to kill herself. ' Thinks,' sais I, ' I'll take the change out of you, marm, for that, see if 1 don't ; I'll give you a story about yi^urself you'll have to let others tell for you, for you won t like to retail it out yourself, I know.' — Well, Lady Gibberish, you know, waru't a noble born; she was a rich citizen's daughter, and, in course, horrid proud of nobility, 'cause it's new to her, and not nateral ; ibr in a gineral way, nobles, if they have pride, lock it up safe in their jewel case: — tiiey don't carry it about with liiem, on their persons; it's only bran new made ones do that. *' Well, then, she is dreadful fond of bein' thought to know lan- guages, and hooks on to rich foreigners like grim death. So, thinks 1, J' II. pl-iy you off, I know. AVeil, my moustache (and he put up his hand involuntarily, to twist the end of it, as he was wont to do, forgetting that it was a ' tale that was told'), my moustache," said 15* 846 THE ATTAOHfi ; OR, he "llint wa^ jist Pinted my purpose, po I poos to Gincral Bigolow IJiin;;.-*, of Mjiinc, tliiit \v;h here at the t'mu', and, sai.^ I. ' CJiiKMal,* fais I, • I want to takf a ri-»' out ot' Lady (Jihliciisli ; do you know her?' 'Well, 1 won't say I don't,* .«ais lie. MV<1I,' ?als I (and I to!d liinj tlie wliole story), ' jist introdtieo me, that's a fjood feller, will }<)n, to lier, a> Uaron Von I'liuiijoker, llio eveilastin' ahnijility rieh German tliat lias e-tatcs all over Germany, and e\<>rywliere else a'most.' So up lie goes at a great swoira party at 'tlu; Duke's,' and introduces me in great foruj, and leaves me. Well, you know I've Iieerd a great deal of Dutch to Albany, where the Geimans aro as thick as huekleherries, and to Linienburg, Nova Scotia, which is German all thro' the piece, and I can speak it as easy as kiss my hand ; and I've been enough in Germany, too, to know what to talk about. So, she began to jabber Jarman gibberish to me, and me to her; and when she axed nie about big bugs to the continent, I said I had been roaniin' about the world for years, and luid lost sight of *em of late ; and I told her about South Sea, where 1 had been, and America, and led her on to larf at the Yankees, and so on. Then, she took my arm, and led nut round to several of her IViends, and introduced me as the iJaron Von IMiunjoker, begged mo to call and see her, to make her house my home, and the devil knows what all; and when she seed Gineral Bangs arterwarils, she said I was tho most delightful man she ever seed in her life, — full of anecdote, and been everywhere, and seen everythin', and that she liked me of all things — the dearest and handsomest man that ever was. The story got wind that the trick had been played, but the Gineral was oti' to Eastport, and nobody know'd it was me that was iJaron Phunjoker. When she sees me, she stares hard, as if she had her misgivin's, and was doubty ; but 1 look us imiocent as a child, and pass on. Oh ! it cut her up :vwful. When I leave town, I >hall call and leave a card at her house, ' the liaron Von Phunjoker.' Oh ! how tlu; little Yankee woman larfed at the story ; she I'airly larfed till she wet lierself a-cryi»i'. " Yes, Squire, in course, I have sometimes jiut my foot in it. 1 s'pose they may have a larf at my expen^e arter I am gone, but they are welcome to it. I shall have many a»larf at them, I know, and a fair exchange ain't no robbery. Yes, 1 guess I am out of place a? an Attache, but it has enabled me to see the world, has given me new wrinkles on my horn, and sharpened my eye-teeth a few. I shall return home with poor old father, and, dear old soul, old jMinister, and take up the trade of clockmakin' agin. There is a considerable smart chance of doin' business to advantage to China. I have contracted with a house here for thirty thousand wooden clocks, to be delivered at Macao. I shall make a good spec' of it, and no mistake. And well tor me it is so, too, for you have sp'iled the trade every wheie a niost. Y'our Looks have gone everywhere, SAM SUCK IN ENOLANI). 84 ^ I, » Crm»*>:^^'* do you know j:t\iH I (nnd 1 J n rjdod fcll'-r, istiu' a\mitjl»ty id fvcrywla'^re t 'tlui Dul<*^^'''» Veil, you kiiow (. Cleriunns arc 51'olia, which is asy us kiss my ow what to talk ) r.ic, atul mu to DntiMt-nt, I i*«is. The story ineral was off to Liron rhunjoker. ■r misgivin'::, and ,nass on. Oh) it iind leave a card ,1 liow th(! little H-fed till the wet [my foot in it. 1 Im gone, hut they In, 1 know, and a In out of phice a* Ll, has given me [e-teeth a few. 1 lav old soul, old tgin. There U a laniage to China. |thoi:sand wooden crood spec' ot It, Pou have sp'iled Lone everywhere, nnd been translated everywhere ; and who would buy clocks now, when the sciMct of the trade is out? If vou know, J don't. Cliin.i is the only place open now, and lliut won't be l(»iijif, for IMr. C'hew- cliew will take 1(» reiulin' liimc-hy, and then I'm in a bask«'t. tlicrt , too. Another thing has entjirmined nie to ;to. Poor dear fatlK lias been re;:ularly took in by s(>ine sharper or another. Wh; ' fetclud liini heie was a letter from a swindler (marked private i, tellin' him to send live pound", and he'd give him tidin's of a fortiii anil a title. Well, as sooi". as he got that, lie writes agin, and telfs bim of bis title and estsites, so plausible, it actilly took me in when I fust heard of it. Then, la^ got bim over here, and bled him till be couldn't bleed no longer, and then he absquotilaled. The story has got wind, .»nd it makes me so dandry, 1 shall have to walk into (Some o' them folks hero albre I've done, if I stay. Father is most crazy ; sometimes he is ibr settin' the police to iind the feller out, that he miy shoot him; and then he says it's every word true, and the man in only absi'ut in s'arehin' out record. I'm actilly a.i'ai'^ he'll go mad, he acts, and talks, and frets, and raves, and carries oi so. 1 hope they won't get the story to home to Slickville ; 1 shall never hear the last of it if they do. " Minister, too, is gcttin' oneasy ; he sais he is too far away from home, tor an old man like him ; that his heart yearns arter Slick- ville ; that here he is a-doin' o' liOthin', and that although he couldn't do much there, yet he could try to, atul the very attempt would b' acceptable to his Heavenly Master. AV'hal a brick he is! ain't he? it will be one while atbre they see his like here agin, in tbesi; cleariu'r-, 1 knhall ground on the flats, and I'm lor up killock and oil, while there is water enough to clear the bars and the shoals. " Takiii' the earliest tide, helps you to go f urdest up the river : takin' the earliest ebb makes you return safe. A ^ai"e voyage shows a good navigator and a good pilot. I hope on the voyage of life f shall prove myself both; buf to do so, it is necessary to keep about the sharpest look-out for ' the Ebb Tide.' " w. 848 ».■ I TBI ATTACUi; OKt I : i CHAPTER LXIV. EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY. Our arrangements liaving been all finislied, we set out from London, and proeeeded to Liverpool, at wliieli place my friends were to embark for America. For many miles after we Icu Lon- don, but little was said by any of the party. Leaving a town tliut contained so many objects of attraction as London, waa a "jrcat trial to Mr. Slick; and the separation of our l>arty, and the termination of our tour, pressed heavily on the spirits of us ail, except the Co- lonel. He became impatient at last at the continued silence, and, turning to me, asked me if ever 1 had been at a (Quaker meetini()n of human blood can elaim, — appears to me but little becoming either your age, your station, or even your profession." " Well, Minister," he said, "you are right there, lo(»; it is foolish, I know, but it was a great deed, and 1 fai km not imperative always to declare the truth, heeau.-e it is not ?il\vays imperative to speak. The rule is this — ■ Kever say what you think, unless it be absolutely necessary to do so, if you are to give pain ; but on no account ever say what you do not think, either to avoid inflicting pain, to give pleasure, or to effect any object whatevei*. Truth is sacred. This is a sad parting, S(piire; if it shall please God to spare my life, I shall still hope to see you on your return to Nova Scotia; if not, accept my thanks and my blessing. But this country. Squire, 1 shall certainly never see again. It is a great and glorious <;ountry, — 1 love it, — I l'>ve its clinuite, its constitution, and its church. I admire its noble Queen, its vencM'able i)eers, its manly and generous peo[)le ; 1 love " " Well, I don't know," said the Colonel, " it is a great country in one sense, but then it ain't in another. It might be great so far as riches go, but then in size it ain't l>igger than New York State arter 'ill. It's nothin' a'most on the maj). In fact, 1 doubt it's hein' so rich as some Iblks brag on. Tell you what, 'wilful waste makes woeful want.' There's a great many lazy, idle, extravagant women here, that's a fact. The Park is chock full of 'em all the time, ridiii* and gallavantin' ai)out, tricked out in sHks and satins, a-doin' of nothin'. Every day in the week can't be Thanksgivin' day, nor In- dependence day nother. 'All ])lay and no work will soon fetch a noble to ninepeuce, and make bread-timber short,' I know. Some on 'em ought to be kept to home, or else their homes must be bad taken care of. Who the plague looks after their hel[)s when they are off' IVolickin' ? Who does the presarvin' or makes the pies and ai){)ie sarce and doughnuts? Who does the spiiniin', and caruin', and bleachin', or mends their husband's shirts or darns the'r stock- in's? Tell you what, ©Id Eve fell into mischi(!f when she had noth- in' to do ; and I iiuess some o' them llauntin' birds, if ihev was fol- lered, aixl well watched, would be found a-scratchin' up oiher folks' gardens sometimes. 1^ i had one on 'em I'd cut her uings and keep her inside her own palin,' I know. Every hen ought to be kept within hearin' of her own rooster, for i'ear of the fuxes, that's a liict. Then look at the sarvants in gold lace, jind broadcloth as line as their master's ; why th(.'y never do nothin', but help make a show. They don't work, and they couldn't ii' ihey would, it would sp"ilo their clothes so. What on airth would be the vaiy of a thousand such crittiu's on a fai'ui ? — Lord I I'd like to slick a pitchtbrk in one o' them rascal's hands, and set him to load an ox-cart — what a pro- per lookin' Ibol he'd be, wouldn't he ? It can't last — it don't stand to reason and common sense. And then, arler all, they ain't got no i^m 856 THE ATTACHE ; OR, I m Indj];!!! corn here, they can't raise It, nor punkin pies, ncp quinces, nor silk-worms, nor iiotliiii'. '•Then ns to tlicir farniin' — Lord! only l(*ol. nt five fjreat ele- phant-lookin' beasts in one ploii<>li, with one >^nn\. imumaUin' i'cller to hold \U(i Jiandlc, and another to csm'- ". the v. hip, nad a hoy to le.'id, who^e hoots have more iron on 'cm ih.m the ho; i' ' hools liave, all crawliii' as it' they v,as a-goin' to :■ funeiMi. '.Vhai s ' t of a way is that to do work i' Tt make- me mad to look at \m. W there is any airtid} clumsy f.isiiion of doin' a tninj^, that's tlie way tlujy are sure to "iit hrvf. TJiey are a henif^lited, ohstinate, bull-headed peo- ple, the Krcj,li.sh, that's a fact, and always was. "At liunker Hill, it" they U:id cs.ly jist j^orse vonnd the lino of level lo the ri;.,iit, insteail of ehnrgiii' up tlcit suicp pilch, they'd a-kil'u.'d every (h'vil of ns, as sliek as a v-,'histl. We know'd that at the time; and Dr. Warren, tiiat eommiiided us, sais, ' lioys,' sais i)c, • don't ihrow u[) entrenchments there, 'cause that's where they attack, and there you'll be sun^ to lind 'em, for that's English all ovc!'.' Faith ! he was ri;j;ht; they came jist to the identi'.al spot we wanted 'em to come to, and they I'ot a taste of our breed that day, that didn't shari)en their a])petite uMich, 1 guess. Cold htad is a sup- per that ain't easy digested, that's a fact. " Well, at jSew Orh.'ans, by all accounts, they did jist the same identical thing. Tlu y couldn't do anything right, it' tliey was to try. Give me old Slitkville yet, I haute seed its ditto here aowiiei'e. "And then as for Constitution, wiiat sort of one is that, where O'Connell snaps his finger in their face, and tells 'em he don't care a cent fur 'em. It's all bunkum, JMinister, nothin' but bunkum, tScpnre," -^aid he, turning to me ; " I won't say 1 ain't sorry to part with you, 'cause 1 am. For a colonist, I must say you're a very de- cent ii.ui, iHit I kinder guess it would Have been most as well ibr Sam if he atid you had never met. I don't mean no oifence, but he has been idle now a considerable long time, and spent a shocking sight o' money. 1 only hope you hante sot him agin work, and made him above his business, that's aU. It's great cry and little wool, bein' an Attachy, as they call it. It ain't a very jirofitable business, that's a fact, nor no other trade timt costs more nor it comes to. Here's your good health. Sir; here's ho[)in' you may one day dress yourself as an Indgin as 1 did, go in the night to " '■ Bed," said JMr. Hoi)ewell, rising, and squeezing me kindly by the hand, and with some ditliculty giving utterance to his usual vale- diction, " Farewell, my son." Mr. Slick accompanied me to the door of my room, and as we parted, said: ." Scpiire, put this little cigar case into your pocket. It is made out of the black birch log you and I sot dowr upon when we baited our bosses arter we fust SAM SLICK IN EXGLANT\ 867 !s, ncr quinces, five fjroiit cle- uuinaUiii' i'l'llor , and !i lK)y to •SL' .' boots have, iL s t of ii way m. If there is e way they are )ull-h'«!acled peo- md the line of >p pitch, tliey'd :' know'd that at vis, ' lioys,' ^ais Kit's whi'i-e they ■orhl they oii^ht lull's Engli.-h all identical spot we . bn-ed that day, )!d Uiad is a sup- ley did jist the ight, ii' they was ;d its ditto here le is that, w lie re m he don't eare im' but bunkuai, n't sorry to part ^ ou're a very de- inost as well Ibi* lO olVeuee, hut ho pent a shoekinj; agin work, and at ery and little very ])rolitablo iosts more nor it j[)in' you may one liiight to ' Ing me kindly by llo his usual vale- ivnied me to the Ire, put this little blaek bireh log Les arter we fust 0)t eyes on each other, on the Cumberland road in Nova Scotia. "When you suuike, use that case ])lease: it will remind you of tiio fust time you saw * Sam Slick the Ciockmaker,' and the last day you ever spent with the Attache' " CHAPTER LXVI. V A L i: D I C T O 11 Y ADD II ESS. Gkntlk reader, having taken my leave of Mr. Slick,- it is now fit I should take my leave of you. lint, first, let me entreat you to join with me in the wish that the Attache may arrive safely at home, and (ivc to enjoy the rei)Utation he has acquired. It would be ungra- cious, indeed, in me, not to express the greatest gratitude to him for the many favors he has conferred upon me, and for the numerous benefits I have ineidenfally derived from his acquaintance. When he oH'ered his services to accompany me to England, to make me well known to the public, and to give me numerous introductions io persons of distinction, that, as a colonist, 1 could not otherwise obtain, I could scarcely restrain a smile at the complacent self-sufficiency of his benevolence ; but I am bound to say that he has more than fulfilled his promise. In all cases but two he has exceeded his own anticipations of advancing me. lie has not procured for me the situation of Governor-General of Canada, which, as an ambitious man, it was natural he should desire, whilst as a friend it was equally natural that he should overlook my entire unfitness for the olfice ; nor has he procured for me a peerage, which, as an American, it is surprising he should prize so highly, or as a man of good, sound judgment, and common sense, not perceive to be more likely to cover an humble man, like me, with ridicule than anything else. For both these disai^pointments, however, he has one common solu- tionV-English monopoly, English arrogance, and English pride on the ohe hand, and provincial dependence and colonial helotisra on the other./ For myself, I am at a loss to know which to feel most grateful for, that which he has done, or that which he has left undone. To have attained all his objects, where success would have neutralized the effect of all, would, indeed, have been unfortunate ; but to succeed in all that was desirable, and to fail only where failure was to be preferred, was the height of good fortune. I am happy to say that, on the whole, he is no less gratified himself, and that he thinks, at least, I have been of equal service to him. ** It tante every one^ 858 THE attacue; or, Bqniro," he would often Fny, " tliat's ag lucky a'' Jolin?on and rae» Ho had his l^oswell, and J have; had tny Stiuirc; and if you two hantc iinriiortalizt'd both us fciUMs for evr-r and a day, ii's a pity, that's all. Fact is, I luivc made you kno\\n, and you have made me known, an^l it's s-onu; comfort, too. ain't it, not to ha obliged lo keep a doj; and do your own barkin'. It tante pleasant to be your own trumpeter always, as Kissinkirk, the Prince's bu suited ache" wero er— to give ^pocrisy — to tlie colonies, orce the just to ftrengtlicn and excite a of it over all continuations o trepass too topics make e, or too pre- r cause. In o intermingle jcls att I active ) and dry for ikI ditricult as eyed enough. The only at- dress. That g them in the r of a shrewd ■irculation on ,t, while I am lieiicial etfects colonies, for I value the igher, and of J author, and fateful as that lircumstances', ,m i^eparating ^ ,.0 often ex- aker and an this regret is ,^ only a reaper aceu>loni(;d to the work, to garner up its riches. I tiiink so, too, but am not so conildent of my ability to e.iecute the task as he is, and still less certain of having the health or the leisure requisite for it. I indulge the hope, however, at some future day, of at least making the attempt, and if other avocations permit m(f to complete it, I t^hall then, gentle reader, have the pleasure of again inviting your attention to my native land, by presenting you with " Sketches of Coionial Life." 7I3E END,