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CHAV. \ -■' Slick's Letter Introduction The Trotting Horse • • The Clockmaker The Silent Girls Conversations at the River Philip Justice Pettifog vi. Anecdotes ... Go Ahead The Preacher that wandered from his Text Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding - The Road to a Woman's Heart— The Broken Heart Cumberland Oysters produce Melancholy Forebodings The American Eagle The Clockmaker's Opinion of Halifax Sayings and Doings in Cumberland XV. The Dancirfg Master Abroad xvi. Mr. Slick's Opinion of the British A Yankee Handle for a Halifax Blade The Grahamite and the Irish Pilot The Clockmaker quilts a Blue-nose Sister Sail's Courtship Setting up for a Governor A Cure for Conceit • The Blowin' Time - Father John O'Shaughnessy Taming a Shrew The Minister's Horn Mug The White Nigger - Fire in the Dairy A Body without a Heac' XXX. A Tale of Bunker's HiD Gulling a Blue-nose - Too many Irons in the Fire xxxiii. Windsor and the Far West PAGB • • Vll ix I 4 7 9 12 14 l6 19 23 27 30 34 39 44 47 SI 55 60 65 69 73 79 83 88 96 100 104 Z08 112 116 120 125 vi CONTENTS ; .V ' SECOND SERIES CHAF. ""■ \ i. The Meeting • ii. The Voluntary System iii. Training a Carriboo • - iv. Nick Brndshaw - • V. Travelling in America vi. Elective Councils vii. Slavery - - • viii. Talking Latin ix. The Snow-wreath X. The Talisman xi. Italian Pnintin^^s xii. Shampooing the English xiii. Putting a Fo(jt in it - xiv. English Aristocracy and Yankee Mobociacy XV. Confessions of a Deposed Minister xvi. Canadian Politics xvii. A Cure for Smuggling xviii. Taking: off the Factory Ladies xix. The Schoolmaster Abroad • XX. The Wrong Room xxi. Finding a Mare's Nest xxii. Keeping up the Steam xxiii. The Clockmaker's Parting Advice FAGB 129 132 141 146 ^ss 162 ' ^- 168 y- 176 184 190 '. 196 '' ■ 'i 202 < 209 .• 215 223 ■■'■\^ 229 ■t-- 236 __,•■■ 242 ^-Vl.," 250 '■'H- 257 264 . ■■ f:^' 270 •• ' ''^'.''■• 277 *■ -t - ■•^ ^ t. , THIRD SERIES CHAP. i. The Duke of Kent's Lodge ii. Playing a Card ' iii. liehind the Scenes - iv. The Black Brother - v. The Great Unknown vi. Snubbing a Snob vii. Patriotism, or the Two Shears's viii. Too Knowing by Half ix. Matrimony - x. The Wooden Horse - xi. The Bad Shilling - xii. Trading in Bed xiii. Knowing the Soundings, or Polly Coffin's Sandhole xiv. An Old Friend with a New Face XV. The Unburied One - - xvi. Definition of a Gentleman - - • , xvii. Looking Up - - - . . xviii. The Old Minister - . , . xix. The Barrel without Hoops - . - - ;' XX. Facing a Woman - . . . i;.xi. The Attache - - - . • PAGR 283 288 296 303 308 316 322 328 334 340 348 356 364 371 377 383 390 396 404 411 419 SLICK'S LETTER [After these Sketches had gone through the pre'iS and were ready for Publica- tion, we sent Mr. Slick a copy ; and shortly afterwards received from him the following letter, which characteristic communication we give entire. — EoiTUR.] To Mr. Howe. - Sir, — I have received your letter, and note its contents. — 1 ain't over half pleased, I tell you ; I think I have been used scan- dalous, that's a fact. It warn't the part of a gentleman for to go and pump me arter that fashion, and then go right off and blart it out in pnnt. It was a nasty, dirty, mean action, and I don't thank you nor the Squire a bit for it. It will be more nor a thousand dpUars out of my pocket. There's an eend to the Clock trade now, and a pretty kettle of fish I've made on it, haven't I ? I shall never hear the last on it, and what am I to say when I go back to the States? I'll take my oath I never said one half the stuff he has sot down there ; and as for that long lockrum about Mr. Everett, and the Hon. Alden Gobble, and Minister, there ain't a word of truth in it from beginnin' to eend. If ever I come near hand him agin I'll lam him — but never mind, I say nothin*. Now there's one thing I don't cleverly onderstand. If this here book is my " SayirHs and Doiiis^^ how comes it yourn or the Squire's either? If my thoughts and notions are my own, how can they be any other folks's? According to my idee, you have no more right to take them than you have to take my clocks without paying for 'em. A man that would be guilty of such an action is no gentleman, that's flat, and if you don't like it you may lump it — for I don't valy him, nor you neither, nor 'are a blue-nose that ever stept in shoe-leather, the matter of a pin's head. I don't know as ever I felt so ugly afore since I was raised ; why didn't he put his name to it as well as mine ? When an article han't the maker's name and factory on it, it shows it's a cheat, and he's ashamed to own it. If I'm to have the name I'll have the game, or I'll know the cause why, that's a fact ! Now folks say you are a considt^rable of a candid man, and right up and down in your dealin's, and do things above board, handsum — at least, so I've beam tell. That's what I like ; I love to deal with such folks. Now s'pose you make me an oflfer? You'll find me not very difficult to trade with, and I don't know but I might put off more than half the books myself, tu. I'll tell you how I'd work it ? I'd fay, " Here's a book they've namesaked arter me, Sam Slick, the vii viii SLICK'S LETTER P' Clockmaker, but it an't mine, and I can't altogether jitt tay rightly whose it is. Some says it's the Gineial's, and some says it's the Bishop's, and some says it's Howe himself ; but I ain't availed who it is. It's a wist child that knows its own father. It wipes up the blue-noses considerable hard, and don't let off the Yankees so very easy neither, but it's generally allowed to be about the prettiest book ever writ in this country ; and although it ain't altogether jist gospel what's in it, there's some pretty home truths in it, that's a fact. Whoever wrote it must be a funny feller, too, that's sartin ; for there are some queer stories in it that no soul could help larfin' at, that's a fact. It s about the wittiest book I ever see'd. It's nearly all sold off, but jist a few copies I've kept for my old customers. The price is jist 5s. 6d., but I'll let you have it for 5*., because you'll not get another chance to have one.'"* Always ax a sixpence more than the price, and then bate it, and when blue-nose hears that, he thinks he's got a bargain, and bites directly. I never see'd one on 'em yet that didn't fall right into the trap. Yes, make me an offer, and you and I will trade, I think. But fair play's a jewel, and I must say 1 feel ryled and kinder sore. I han't been used handsum atween you two, and it don't seem to me that I had ought to be made a fool on in that book, arter that fashion, for folks to laugh at, and then be sheered out of the spec. If I am, somebody had better look out for squalls, I tell you. I'm as easy as an old glove, but a glove ain't an old shoe to be trod on, and I think a sartin person will find that out afore he is six months older, or else I'm mistakened, that's all. Hopin' to hear from you soon, I remain yours to command, SAMUEL SLICK. Pugnose^s Inn^ River Philip^ Dec. 25, 1836. P.S. — I see in the last page it is writ that the Squire is to take another journey round the shore and back to Halifax with me next spring. Well, I did agree with him to drive him round the coast, but don't you mind — we'll understand each other, I guess, afore we start. I concait he'll rise considerably airly in the momin' afore he catches me asleep agin. I'll be wide awake for him next hitch, that's a fact. I'd a ginn a thousand dollars if he had only used Campell's name instead of mine ; for he was a most an almighty villain, and cheated a proper raft of folks, and then shipped himself off to Botany Bay for fear folks would transport him there. You couldn't rub out Slick and put in Campbell, could you ? That's 9 Sood feller : if vou would I'd make it worth your while, you may epend. ■■-■■■;■/;.-' n. ■:■.-'■. '^ '-■• --" ■-.,-.;.-.,■. a; v. .. , ■A'-' INTRODUCTION THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON, whom Artemus Ward described as the founder of the American school of humour, was by birth and sympathies no Yankee, but a loyal British colonist He was born in 1796, at Windsor, Nova Scotia, being the son of a Justice of the Court of Common Pleas. He was educated at King's College in that town, and in 1820 was called to the Bar, speedily creating a large and prosperous business in Annapolis Royal, the old capital, as member for which he entered the Legislative Assembly. From the year 1828 to 1840 he held the office of Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, and then became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, a position which he resigned in 1856, leaving Nova Scotia for England, where he spent the remainder of his days. He died in 1865, having in the meanwhile represented Launceston for six years in the Conservative interest. ■ • From this short epitome of his life it will be seen that Judge Haliburton was essentially a man of affairs, with a wide practical knowledge of men, business, and politics, a knowledge that formed the basis of his literary works, which are a satirical and diverting, yet profoundly serious, commentary on the public and the private matters of his time. Before he wrote " Sam Slick," Haliburton had written an " Historical and Statis- tical Account of Nova Scotia." His extensive and accurate knowledge of the colony and the neighbour- ing states and" provinces, and his solicitous interest in 13( J»* X INTRODUCTION the problems that were pressing at the time, are evident to everyone who reads that novel, and some under- standing of these problems is needful for a full appre- ciation of his satire. As a writer in the Encyclopcedia Britannica states : " He was a native of what was then a small and isolated maritime province, detached from Canada.. Its exports consisted chiefly of lumber and the produce of its fisheries ; and with those trade was carried on with Great Britain, the West Indies, and the United States. Its entire population at the time when Haliburton was called to the Bar, including Indians, African refugees from the States, and the Acadian descendants of the original French population, did not amount to 97,000. The English settlers were largely composed of refugees from the former British colonies, animated by the strong Conservative sympathies of the old Colonial loyalists. The French Acadians were Roman Catholics, and their national traditions and religion equally tended to alienate them from the neighbouring republic." A " Blue-nose " says succinctly of the ill-flourishing colony : " No mortal soul can live in Nova Scotia. I do believe that our country was made of a Saturday night, arter all the rest of the universe was finished. One half of it has got all the ballast of Noah's Ark thrown out there, and the other half is eat up by bankers, lawyers, and other great folk." Nova Scotia, it is hardly necessary to remind the reader, was originally the French colony of Acadia, whence the French inhabitants were expatriated whole- sale in the middle of the eighteenth century. In 1784, New Brunswick and Cape Breton were separated from Nova Scotia, but in 18 19 Nova Scotia and Cape Breton were reunited, and became part of the Dominion pf Canada. " ;,./-- INTRODUCTION xi ** The Clockmaker ; or, The Sayings and Doings of Sam Slick of Slickville," appeared as a series of articles in the Nova Scotian during the year 1835, and were pubh'shed in three successive series in 1837, 1838, and 1840. This was the first time the American dialect was used in literature. Sam Slick was an earlier Mr. Dooley, displaying the same political shrewdness, applied to current events, but obviously applicable likewise to different men and different times. He has not Mr. Dooley's fine irony and philosophic detachment, it is true; there is nothing subtle or refined about Sam Slick ; he is always downright, direct, and trenchant. Mr. Dooley is the spokesman of his creator ; Sam Slick is a butt for satire as well as a mouthpiece, for in his person the author strikes obliquely at "the free and enlightened citizen of the United Stettes." Sam's business acumen and his pre- ference lor anybody else to be taken in rather than himself are the traits of another humourist of recent years, David Harum. But Sam Slick has one talent all to himself, his extraordinary gift for drawing a sharp, powerful, and terribly offensive caricature of anyone he dislikes, a sketch that we can see as vividly in our mind's eye as if it were etched by Cruikshank. A selection from the immense crowd of characters who appear in the many anecdotes in the book will illustrate this gift ; The Honourable Lucifer Wolfe. — " He was a tall man, over six foot high, all bone and muscle, not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him. i see'd at once he warn't a nalive of Maine, but a ringtail roarer from the West. He was all made of fox-traps and bears' claws, and as springy as a saplin' ash. His eyes were full and hawk-like, and close together, but they squinted awful ; one on 'em mounted guard on his tumbler and t'other on you, as if his fightin' and drinkin' liked keepin' company." -.^■'' xii INTRODUCTION ! ! General Conrad Corncob.— "Do you see that *are tall, limber-timbered, slinky-lookin' man, with the blue cloak, and two long black cords a-hangin* from it, with almighty big tassels a-danglin' to the eend of it, like the lamp-rope there, a-carrying part of the cloak folded on one arm, like a Roman senator, and t'other arm a-kimber? He is the greatest speculator in these parts." Captain Ebenezer Fathom (or "Tarnal Death"). — Who " know'd every inch of the American coast as well as he did of his own cabin," but is persuaded by Sam Slick that his ship has run into old Aunt Polly Coffin's Sandhole. Old Clay (Sam's horse). — " Ain't he a whole team that, and a horse to spare? Absquotilate it in style, you old skunk, a-from squerrel's jump to the eend of the chapter, and show the gentleman what you can do." Deacon Flint.^— " A respectable old man, who had understood the value of time better than most of his neighbours, if one might judge from the appearance of everything about him." He however buys a clock, the first practical example of Sam Slick's soft sawder. Mr. Pettifog (the Justice). — "A pretty prime, super-' fine scoundrel, a regular suck-egg," whose constable, Nabb, another rascal, is outwitted by Bill Smith. Bill Smith. — "An outlaw of a feller, for all the world like one of our Kentucky squatters — a critter that neither fears man nor devil." The Honourable Alden Gobble.— " Was dys- peptic, and suffered great oneasiness arter eatin', so he goes to Abernethy for advice. * I am an American citizen,* says Alden ; * I am Secretary to our Legation at the Court of St. James.* 'The devil you are,* said Abernethy, * then you'll soon get rid of your dyspepsy.* * I don't see that 'are inference,* said Alden ; ' it don't foller from what you predicate at all' * But I tell you it does foller,' said the doctor ; * for in the company you'll have to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian,* *' INTRODUCTION xiii Thb Rev. Joshua Hopewell (Sam's old minister and preceptor). — He saves his orchard from depredation in this way : " That 'are outward row I grafted myself with the choicest I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so eternal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and they search no farther. They snicker at my graftin*, and I laugh in my sleeve, I guess, at their penetration." Marm Pugwash.— "Is like the minister's apples, very temptin' fruit to look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he married, I guess it's pretty puckery by this time." Zeb Allen. — "A real genuine skinflint, a proper close-fisted customer, as you'll almost see anywhere," who is likewise taken in by Sam's soft sawder^ and buys a clock. " J - ' " ^ The Rev. Ahab Meldrum. — "That everlastin' skirmudgeon," a hypocritical minister, whom we meet first as a thriving, self-indulgent popular preacher, and last as a ranting Corcornite, preaching teetotalism and practising drunkenness. " A bad man tsbad enough^ but a bad minister beats the devils* Mr. Buck. — " The member elect for the township of Flats in the Home district. * I'm for elective councils, short parliaments, ballot, universal suffrage, and agin' all officials.'" Nick Bradshaw.— "A lazy, idle critter, wanderin* about, talkin' politics, or snarin' rabbits, catchin' eels, or shootin' hawks, and neglectin' his work, and a pretty kettle of fish he makes of it." Mr. HORTON. — "A careful, steady-goin', industrious man, that leaves politics to them as like dabblin* in troubled waters, and attends steadily to his business, and he's a credit to his country." Mr. Bobbin.— " Great dandy was Mr. Bobbin; he looked jist if he had come out of the tailor's hands, spic xiv INTRODUCTION and span ; put out his lips and drew down his brow, as if he had a trick of thinkin' sometimes; nodded his head and winked, as if he knew more than he'd like to tell ; talked of talent quite glib, but disdainful, as if he wouldn't touch some folks with a pair of tongs ; a great scholar, too, was Mr. Bobbin ; always spoke dictionary, and used heavy artillery words." Judge Cotton. — " He was one of our revolutionary heroes, a starn, hard-featured old man, quite a Cato; and he did curry 'em down with a heavy hand, you may depend ; he had no marcy on 'em." ICHABOD Gates. — " The store-keeper, who sells his goods by /^^/^«(3r/«^ to have smuggled them." Dr. Query. — " A great bull-nigger, * de onworthy shepherd ob de little flock of free colour'd Christians to Martin Vanburinville,' who confounds the Rev. Ahab's professions of brotherly love." Bill Dill Mill. — "People have such a high opinion of my judgment, and think I know so much^ they won't buy ncr sell with me. If I go to an auction and bid, people say, * Oh, if Bill Dill Mill bids, then it must be cheap, and it goes beyond its valy right away.* If I go to sell anything, every one thinks I wouldn't sell if I hadn't a very good reason for it, for I am too knowing for that" It is not surprising that Judge Haliburton's book was more popular abroad than at home, although he obtained no profit from the English editions. The cap was made to fit, and no doubt many more people saw themselves pilloried than we are able to recognise now. Real names occur surprisingly often, if we con- sider the nature of the observations ; and the particular object of the satire is frequently pointed out beyond any possibility of mistake, as in the reference on page 195 to the " English gal a-travellin' in a steam-boat," the lady who "had a French name that I can't recollect*' INTRODUCTION xv She IS obviously Harriet Martineau. And the hits at writers of travel books would easily find their mark : " I seldom or never talk to none o' them, unless it be to bam 'em. They think they know everything, and all they got to do is to up Hudson like a shot, into the lakes full split, off to Mississippi and down to New Orleans full chisel, back to New York and up killock, and home in a liner, and write a book. They have a whole stock of notes. Spittin* — gougin' — lynchin' — burnin' alive — steam-boats blowed up — snags — slavery — stealin' — Texas — State prisons — men talk slow — women talk loud — both walk fast — chat in steam-boats and stage- coaches — anecdotes — and so on. Then out comes a book ... I wouldn't give a chaw of tobaccy for the books of all of 'em tied up and put into a meat-bag together." Not less amusing than his caustic satire of the Nova Scotians are the caricatures of Yankee vanity; their humorous hyperbole is a quality that allies him to the later American humourists : " The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British." "Look at our declaration of independence. It was writ by Jefferson, and he was the first man of the age ; perhaps the world never saw his ditto. It's a beautiful piece of penmanship ; he gave the British the butt end of his mind there. I calculate you couldn't fall it in no particular; it's ginerally allowed to be his cap shief. In the first page of it, second section, and first varse, are these words, ' We hold this truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.' I guess King George turned . his quid when he read that. It was something to chaw on ; he hadn't been used to the flavour of it, I reckon." " I had gone down to Boston to keep 4th of July, our great Anniversary day. A great day that. Squire ; a great national festival, a splendid spectacle ; fifteen millions of freemen and three millions of slaves a-celebratin' the birthday of liberty ; rejoicin' in their strength, their freedom and enlightenment. Perhaps the sun never xvl INTRODUCTION shone on such a sight afore, nor the moon, nor the stars, for their planetary system ain't more perfect than our political system. The sun typifies our splendour; the moon in its changes figures our rotation of office, and eclipses of Presidents; and the stars are emblems of our States, as painted on our flags.'* . , And here is a typically American brag : " Ohio is most the only country I know on where folks are saved that trouble, and here the freshets come jist in the nick o' time for 'em, and sweep all the crops right up in a heap for *em, and they have nothjn' to do but take it home and house it." The grotesque mixture of sense and nonsense, the enunciation of grave truths by means of extravagant drollery, the utterance of wisdom by a person dressed in cap and bells, is a characteristic of the American humourists, if indeed it be not an essential trait of humour in general. It is a characteristic of "Sam Slick." But some of his wise sayings, while they have the conciseness and point of the best wit, are serious in tone. Here are a few : " No, Sam, the misfortin' is we are all apt to think Scriptur' intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves." " Wherever natur' does least, man does most." " Figures are the representatives of numbers, and not things." " If mankind only knew what fools they were, and how they helped folks themselves to fool them, there would be some hope of them, for they would have larnt the first lesson of wisdom." "That comes of pretence now; a man that stoops lower nor he ought in some things is plaguy apt to straighten himself over the perpendicular in others to make up for it again." " The otter of roses is stronger than the rose, and a plaguy sight more valuable." ., v " The road to the head lies through the heart.** THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER I serious in r THE TROTTING HORSE I WAS always well mounted. I am fond of a horse, and always piqued myself on having the fastest trotter in the Province. I have made no great progress in the world ; I feel doubly, there- fore, the pleasure of not being surpassed on the road. I never feel so well or so cheerful as on horseback, for there is something exhilarating in quick motion ; and, old as I am, I feel a pleasure in making any person whom I meet on the way put his horse to the full gallop to keep pace with my trotter. Poor Ethiope ! you recollect him, how he was wont to lay back his ears on his arched neck, and push away from all competition. He is done, poor fellow 1 the spavin spoiled his speed, and he now roams at large upon "my farm at Truro." Mohawk never failed me till this summer. I pride myself (you may laugh at such childish weakness in a man of my age), but still, I pride myself in taking the conceit.put of coxcombs I meet on the road, and on the ease with which I can leave a fool behind, whose nonsense disturbs my solitary musings. On my last journey to Fort Lawrence, as the beautiful view of Colchester had just opened upon me, and as I was contemplating its richness and exqiiisite scenery, a tall thin man, with hollow cheeks and bright twinkling black eyes, on a good bay horse, somewhat out of condition, overtook me ; and drawing up, said : " I say, stranger, I guess you started early this morning, didn't you ?" "I did, sir," I replied. "You did not come from Halifax, I presume, did you ? " m a dialect too rich to be mistaken as genu/«^ Yankee. "And which way may you be travelling ?" asked my inquisitive companion. " To Fort Lawrence.-" " Ah I " said he, " so am L It is in my circuit." The word circuit sounded so professional, I looked again at him to ascertain whether I had ever seen him before, or whether I had met with one of those nameless but innumerable limbs of the law who now flourish in every district of the Province. There was a keenness about his eye and an acuteness of expression mudiT in favour of the law, but the dress and general bearing of the man made against the supposition. His was not the coat of a man who can afford to wear an old coat ;' nor was it one of " Tempest & More's," that distinguish country lawyers from country boobies. His clothes were well made and THE CLOCKMAKER of good materials, but looked as if their owner had shrunk a little since they were made for him ; they hung somewhat loose on him. A large brooch, and some superfluous seals and gold keys, which ornamented his outward man, looked " New England " like. A visit to the States had, perhaps, I thought, turned this Colchester beau into a Yankee fop. Of what consequence was it to me who he was — in either case I had nothing to do with him, and I desired neither his acquaintance nor his company — still I could not but ask myself. Who can this man be ? "I am not aware," said I, " that there is a tourt sitting at this time at Cumberland ? " " Nor am I," said my friend. What, then, could he have to do with the circuit ? It occurred to me he must be a Methodist preacher. I looked again, but his appearance again puzzled me. His attire might do —the colour might be suitable— the broad brim not out of place ; but there was a want of that staidness of look, that seriousness of countenance, that expression, in short, so characteristic of the clergy. I could not account for my idle curiosity — a curiosity which, in him, I had the moment before viewed both with suspicion and disgust ; but so it was — I felt a desire to know who he could be who was neither lawyer nor preacher, and yet talked of his circuit with the gravity of both. " How ridiculous," I thought to myself, " is this ; I will leave him." Turning towards him, I said I feared I should be late for breakfast, and must therefore bid him good morning. Mohawk felt the pressure of my knees, and away we went at a slapping pace. I congratulated myself on conquering my own curiosity, and on avoiding that of my travelling companion. "This," I said to myself — " this is the value of a good horse ; " I patted his neck — I felt proud of him. Presently I heard the steps of the unknown's horse — the clatter increased. " Ah, my friend," thought I, " it won't do ; you should be well mounted if you desire my company." I pushed Mohawk faster, faster, faster — to his best. He outdid himself ; he had never trotted so handsomely — so easily — so well. " I guess this is a considerable smart horse," said the stranger, as he came beside me, and apparently reined in, to prevent his horse passing me ; " there is not, I reckon, so spry a one on my circuity Circuit or no circuity one thing was settled in my mind ; he was a Yankee, and a very impertinent Yankee too. I felt humbled, my pride was hurt, and Mohawk was beaten. To continue this trotting contest was humiliating ; I yielded, therefore, before the victory was palpable, and pulled up. " Yes," continued he, " a horse of pretty considerable good action, and a pretty fair trotter, too, I guess." Pride must have a f ill— 1 confess mine was prostrate in the dust. These w ords cut me to the heart. What ! is it come to tliis, poor Mohawk, that you, the admiration of all but the envious, the great THE TROTTING HORSE » Mohawk, the standard by which all other horses are measured — trots next to Mohawk, only yields to Mohawk, looks like Mohawk — that you are, after all, only a counterfeit, and pronounced by a straggling Yankee to be merely a "pretty fair trotter 1 " " If he was trained, I guess that he might be made to do a little more. Excuse me, but if you divide your weight between the knee and the stirrup, rather most on the knee, and rise forward on the saddle, so as to leave a little daylight between you and it, I hope I may never ride this circuit again if you don't get a mile more an hour out of him." " What 1 not enough," I mentally groaned, '*to have my horse beaten, but I must be told that I don't know how to ride him ; and that, too, by a Yankee. Aye, there's the rub — a Yankee, what? Perhaps a half-bred puppy, half Yankee, half blue-nose. As there is no escape, I'll try to make out my riding-master." " Your circuit" said I, my looks expressing all the surprise they were capable of — " your circuit, pray what may that be ? " " Oh," said he, "the eastern circuit — I am on the eastern circuit, sir." " I have heard," said I, feeling that I now had a lawyer to deal with, " that there is a great deal of business on this circuit — pray, are there many cases of importance ? " " There is a pretty fair business to be done — at least, there has been," said he, " but the cases are of no great value — we don't make much out of them, we get them up very easy, but they don't bring much profit." " What a beast," thought I, "is this ; and what a curse to a country, to have such an unfeeling pettifogging rascal practising in it — a horse jockey, too ; what a finished character 1 I'll try him on that branch of his business." " That is a superior animal you are mounted on," said I ; " I seldom meet one that can keep pace with mine." " Yes," said he coolly, "a considerable fair traveller, and most particular good bottom." I hesitated. This man who talks with such unblushing effrontery of getting up cases, and making profit out of them, cannot be offended at the question — yes, I will put it to him. " Do you feel an inclination to part with him ? " "I never part with a horse, sir, that suits me," said he. " I am fond of a horse— I don't like to ride in the dust after every one I meet, and I allow no man to pass me but when I choose." " Is it possible," I thought, *'that he can know me ; that he has heard of my foible, and is quizzing me, or have I this feeling in common with him ? " " But," continued I, "you might supply yourself again." "Not on this circuity I guess," said he, "nor yet in Campbell's circuit." " Campbell's circuit— pray, sir, what is that ? " " That," said he, " is the western— and Lampton rides the shore circuit ; and as for the people on the shore, they know so little of horses, that Lampion tells me a man from Aylesford once sold a hornless ox there, whose tail he had cut and nicked, for a horse of the Goliath breed." *' I should think," said I, "that Mr. Lampton must have no lack of 4 * tHE CLOCKMAKEft cases among such enlightened clients." ''Clients, sir!'' said my friend, " Mr. Lampion is not a lawyer." " I beg pardon, I thought you said he rode the circuit.'' "We call it a ciicuit," said the stranger, who seemed by no means flattered by the mistake — "we divide the Province, as in the Almanack, into circuits, in each of which we separately carry on our business of manufacturing and selling clocks." *' There are few, I guess," said the Clockmaker, " who go upon tick as much as we do who have so little use for lawyers ; if attorneys could wind a man up again^ after he has been fairly run down, I guess they'd be a pretty harmless sort of folk." This explanation restored my good humour, and as I could not quit my companion, and he did not feel disposed to leave me, I made up my mind to travel with him to Fort Lawrence, the limit of his t. re fit. , :/ CHAPTER II THE CLOCKMAKER I HAD heard of Yankee clock pedlars, tin pedlars, and Bible pedlars, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles {all in English) to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The house of every substantial farmer had three substantial ornaments, a wooden clock, a tin reflector, and a Polyglot Bible. How is it that an American can sell his wares, at whatever price he pleases, where a blue-nose would fail to make a sale at all ? I will inquire of the Clockmaker the secret of his success. - "What a pity it is, Mr. Slick" (for such was his name) — "what a pity it is," said I, " that you, who are so successful in teaching these people the value of clocks, could not also teach them the value of /m^." *'I guess," said he, "they have got that ring to grow on their horns yet, which every four-year-old has in our country. We reckon hours and minutes to be dollars and cents. They do nothin' in these parts but eat, drink, smoke, sleep, ride about, lounge at taverns, make speeches at temperance meetings, and talk about ' House of Assembly^ If a man don't hoe his com, and he don't get a crop, he says it is all owin' to the bank ; and if he runs into debt, and is sued, why, he says lawyers are a cuss to the country. They are a most idle set of folks, I tell j<7«." " But how is it," said I, "that you manage to sell such an immense number of clocks (which certainly cannot be called necessary articles) among a people with whom there seems to be so great a scarcity of money ?" Mr. Slick paused, as if considering the propriety of answering the question, and looking me in the face^ said in a confidential THE CLOCKMAKER tone: "Why, I don't care if I do tell you, for the market is glutted, and I shall quit this circuit. It is done by a knowledi,'e of soft sawder and human natur*. But here is Deacon Flint's," said he ; "I have but one clock left, and I guess I will sell it to him." At the gate of a most comfortable-looking farmhouse stood Deacon Flint, a respectable old man, who had understood the value of time beiter than most of his neighbours, if one might judj^e from the appearance of everytliing about him. After the usual salutation, an invitation to "alight" was accepted by Mr. Slick, who said he wished to take leave of Mrs. Flint before he left Colch. ster. We had hardly entered the house before the Clockmaker pointed to the view from the window, and addressing himself to me, said : " If 1 was to tell them in Connecticut there was such a farm as this away down east here in Nova Scotia, they wouldn't believe me — why, there ain't such a location in all New England. The Deacon has a hundred acres of dyke." "Seventy," said the Deacon, "only seventy." "Well, seventy ; but then there is your fine deep bottom ; why, I could run a ramrod into it." " Interval, we call it," said the Deacon, who, though evidently pleased at this eulogium, seemed to wish the experiment of the ramrod to be tried in the right place. " Well, interval, if you please (though Professor Ele izer Cumstick, in his work on Ohio, calls them bottoms), is just as good as dyke. Then there is that water privilege, worth 3,000 or 4,000 dollars, twice as good as what Governor Cass paid 15,000 dollars for. I wonder, Deacon, you don't put up a carding machine on it ; the same works would carry a turning lathe, a shingle machine, a circular saw, grind bark, and — " " Too old," said the Deacon, "too old for all those speculations.'' "Old," repeated the Clockmaker, "not you. Why, you are worth half-a-dozen of the young men we see now- adays; you are young enough to have — " Here he said som -thing in a lower tone of voice, which I did not distinctly hear ; but whatever it was, the Deacon was pleased. He smiled, and said he did not think of such things now. " But your beasts, dear me, your beasts must be put in and have a feed ; " saying which, he went out to order them to be taken to the stable. As the old gentleman closed the door after him, Mr. Slick drew near to me, and said in an undertone : "Now that is what I call ^ soft sawder^ An Englishman would pass that man as a sheep passes a hog in a pastur', without looking at him ; or," said he, looking rather archly, " if he was mounted on a pretty smart horse, I guess he'd trot away, // he could. Now I find — " Here his lecture on ''^ soft sawder^* was cut short by the entrance of Mrs. Flint. **Jist come to say good-bye, Mrs. Flint." " V\ hat, have vou sold all your clocks ? " " Yes, and very low, too, for money is THE CLOCKMAKER ijjj scarce, and I wished to close the concarn ; no, I am wrong in saying all, for I h:ive jist one left. Neighbour Steel's wife asked to have the refusal of it, but I guess I won't sell it ; I had but two of them, tins one and the feller of it that I sold Governor Lincoln. General Green, the iJecretury of State for Maine, said he'd give me 50 dolhirs for this here one — it has composition wheels and patent axles ; it is a beautiful article — a real first chop — no mis- take, genuine superfine, but I guess I'll take it back ; and besides, Squire Hawk might think it kinder harder that I didn't give him the olTer." " Dear me," said Mrs. Flint, " I should like to see it ; where is it?" "It is in a chist of mine over the way, at Tom Tape's store. I guess he can ship it on to Eastport." "That's a good man," said Mrs. Flint ; "jist let's look at it." Mr. Slick, willing to oblige, yielded to these entreaties, and soon produced the clock — a g;iudy, highly-varnished, trumpery-looking affair. He placed it on the chimneypiece, where its beauties were pointed out and duly appreciated by Mrs. Flint, whose admiration was about ending m a proposal, when Mr. Flint returned from giving his directions about the care of the horses. The Deacon praised the clock ; he, too, thought it a handsome one ; but the Deacon was a prudent man. He had a watch ; he was sorry, but he had no occasion for a clock. " I guess you're in the wrong furrow this time. Deacon ; it ain't for sale," said Mr. Slick ; "and if it was, I reckon neighbour Steele's wife would have it, for jhe gives me no peace about it." Mrs. Flint said that Mr. Steel had enough to do, poor man, to pay his interest, without buying clocks for his wife. "It's no concarn of mine," said Mr. Slick, "so long as he pays me what he has to do ; but I guess I don't want to sell it, and besides, it comes too high ; that clock can't be made at Rhode Island under 40 dollars. Why, it ain't possible," said the Clock- maker, in apparent surprise, looking at his watch ; " why, as I'm alive, it is 4 o'clock, and if I haven't been two blessed hours here I How on airth shall I reach River Philip to-night ? I'll tell you what, Mrs. Flint ; I'll leave the clock in your care till I return on my way to the States. I'll set it a-goin', and put it to the right time." As soon as this operation was performed, he delivered the key to ^he Deacon with a sort of serio-comic injunction in wind up the clock every Saturday night, which Mrs. Flint said she would take care should be done, and promised to remind her husband of it, in case he should chance to forget it. "That," said the Clockmaker, as soon as we were mounted — "that I call human natur' ! Now that clock is sold for 40 dollars ; it cost me jist 6 dollars and 50 cents. Mrs. Flint will never let Mrs. Steel have the refusal, nor will the Deacon lam, until I call for the clock, that, having once indulged in the use of a superfluity, how difficult it is to give it up. We can do without any article of luxury we never had, but, when once obtained, it THE SILENT GIRLS -» * Isn't in human natur' to surrender it voluntarily. Of fifteen thousand sold by myself and partners in this Province, twelve thousand were left in this manner, and only ten i locks were ever returned ; when v e called for them, they invariably bought them. We trust to soft sawder to gi t them into the house, and to human natur* that they never conie out of it." _ CHAPTER III THE SILENT GIRLS *' Do you see them 'are swallers," said the Clockmaker, ** how low they fly ? Well, I presume we shall have rain right away. And them noisy critters, them gulls ; how close they keep to the water down there in the Shubenacadie ? Well, that's a sure sign I If we study Natur', we don't want no thermometer. But I guess we shall be in time to get under cover in a shingle-maker's shed, about three miles ahead on us." We had just reached the deserted hovel when the rain fell in torrents. *' I reckon," said the Clockmaker, as he sat himself down on a bundle of shingles — " I reckon they are bad off for inns in this country. When a feller is too lazy to work here, he paints his name over his door, and calls it a tavern, and as like as not he makes the whole neighbourhood as lazy as himself — it is about as easy to find a good inn in Halifax as it is to find wool on a goat's back. An inn, to be a good concarn, must be built a* purpose ; you can no more make a good tavern out of a common dwelling- house, I expect, than a good coat out of an old pair of trousers. They are eternal lazy, you may depend. ' Now there might be a grand spec made there in building a good inn and a good church." "What a sacrilegious and unnatural union," said I, with most unaffected surprise. " Not at all," said Mr. Slick ; " we build both on spekilation in the States, and make a good deal of profit out of 'em too, I tell you. We look out a good sightly place, in a town like Halifax, that is pretty considerably well peopled with folks that are good marks ; and if there is no raal right down good preacher among them, we build a handsome church, touched off like a New York liner, a raal takin -lookin' thing— and then we look out for a preacher, a crack man, a regilar ten-horse-power chap — well, we hire him, and we have to give pretty high wages/'- too, say twelve hundred or sixteen hundred dollars a year. We take him at first on trial for a Sabbath or two, to try his paces ; and if he takes with the folks, if he goes down well, we clinch the bargain, and let and sell the pews ; and I tell you it pays well, and makes a raal good investment. There were few better specs 8 THE CLOCKMAKBR among us than inns and churches, until the railroads came on the carpet. As soon as the novelty of the new preacher wears off» we hire another, and that keeps up the steam." " I trust it will be long, very long, my friend," said I, " ere the rage for specu- lation introduces 'the mone> -changers into the temple ' with us." Mr. Slick looked at me with a most ineffable expression of pity and surprise. " Depend on it, sir," said he, with a most philosophical air, "this Province is much behind the intelligence of the age. But if it is behind us in that respect, it is a long chalk ahead on us in others. I never seed or heerd tell of a country that had so many nateral privileges as this. Why, there are twice as many harbours and water powers here as we have all the way from Eastport to New Oxleens. They have all they can ax, and more than they desarve. They have iron, coal, slate, grindstone, lime, firestone, gypsum, freestone, and a list as long as an auctioneer's catalogue. But they are either asleep or stone blind to them. Their shores are crowded with fish, and their lands covered with wood. A Government that lays as light on *em as a down counterpin, and no taxes. Then look at their dykes. The Lord seems to have made 'em on purpose for such lazy folks. If you were to tell the citizens of our country that these dykes had been cropped for a hundred years without manure, they'd say they guessed you had >'^en Col. Crocket, the greatest hand at a flam in our nation. You have heerd tell of a man who couldn't see London for the houses ; I tell you, if we had this country, you couldn't see the harbours for the shippin*. There'd be a rush of folks to it, as there is in one of our inns to the dinner-table, when they sometimes get jammed together in the doorway, and a man has to take a running leap over their heads rfore he can get in. A little nigger boy in New York found a diamond worth 2,000 dollars ; well, he sold it to a watchmaker for 50 cents — the little critter didn't know no better. Your people are just like the ntgger boy^ they don't know the valy of their diamond. " Do you know the reason monkeys are no good ? because they chatter all day long — so do the niggers — and so do the blue-noses of Nova Scotia— it's all talk, and no work ; now, with us it's all work, and no talk — in our ship-yards, our factories, our mills, and even in our vessels, there's no talk — a man can't work and talk too. I guess if you went to the factories to Lowell, we'd show you a wor. Jer— yfv^ hundred gals at work together all in silence. I don't think our great country has such a raal nateral curiosity as that. I expect the world don't contain the beat of that ; for a woman's tongue goes so slack of itself, without water power or steam, and moves so easy on its hinges, that it's no easy matter to put a spring stop on it, I tell you — it comes as nateral as drinkin' mint julip. " I don't pretend to say the gals don't nullify thr rule, sometimes at intermission and arter hours, but when they do, if they don't let 'r^ \ CONVERSATIONS AT THE RIVER PHILIP 9 go, then it's a pity. You have heerd a school come out of little boys. Lord ! it's no touch to it. Or a flock of geese at it ; they are no more a match for 'em than a pony is for a coach-horse. But when they are to work, all's as still as sleep, and no snoring. I guess we have a right to brag o' that invemion — we trained the dear critters, so they don't think of striking the minutes and seconds no longer. " Now, the folks to Halifax take it all out in talkin'— they talk of steamboats, whalers, and lailroads — but they all eend where they begin — in talk. I don't think I'd be out in my latitude if 1 was to say they beat the womenkind at that. One feller says : * 1 talk of goin' to England ;' another says : ' I talk of goin' to the country ;' while a third says : *I talk of goin' to sleep.' If we happen to speak of such things, we say : ' I'm rii^ht off down east,' or, ' Pm away off south,' and away we go, jist like a streak of lijihtnin'. " When we want folks to talk, we pay 'em for it, such as ministers, lawyers, and members of Congress ; but then we expect the use of their tongues, and not their hands ; and when we pay folks to work, we expect the use of their hands, and not their tongues. I guess work don't come kind o' nateral to the people of this Province, no more than it does to a full-bred horse. I expect they think they have a little ^oo much blood in 'em for work, for they are near about as proud as they are lazy. " Now, the bees know how to sarve out such chaps, for they have their drones, too. Well, they reckon it's no fun a-making of honey all summer for these idle critters to eat all winter, so they give 'em Lynch Law. They have a regular built mob of citizens, and string up the drones like the Vixburg gamblers. Their maxim is — and not a bad one neither, I guess — ' No work, no honey.' " CHAPTER IV CONVERSATIONS AT THE RIVER PHILIP It was late before we arrived at Puc^nose's Inn. The evening was cool, and a fire was cheerinij and comfortable. Mr. Slick declined any share in the bottle of wine, he said he was dyspeptic ; and a glass or two soon convinced me that it was likely to produce in me something worse than dyspepsy. It was speedily removed, and we drew up to the fire. Taking a small penknife from his pocket, he began to whittle a thin piece of dry wood, which lay on the hearth, and after musing some time, said : " I guess you've never been to the States ? " I replied that I had not, but that before I returned to England I proposed visiting that country. "There," said he, " you'll see the great Daniel Webster — he's a great man, I itWyott; King Willianj, 10 THE CLOCKMAKER number 4, I guess, would be no match for him as an orator— he'd talk him out of sight in half an hour. If he was in your House of Commons, I reckon he'd make some of your great folks look pretty streaked — he's a true patriot and statesman, the first in our country, and a most partikilar cute lawyer. There was a Quaker chap too cute for him once, tho'. This Quaker, a pretty knowin' old shaver, had a case down to Rhode Island ; so he went to Danel to hire him to go down and plead his case for him ; so says he : ' Lawyer Webster, what's yer fee ? ' ' Why,' says Danel, * let me see ; I have to go down south to Washington, to plead the great insurance case of the Hartford Company — and I've got to be at Cincinnati to attend the Convention, and I don't see how I can go to Rhode Island without great loss and great fatigue ; it would cost you, maybe, more than you'd be willin' to give.' " Well, the Quaker looked pretty white about the gills, I tell you, when he heard this, for he could not do without him, no how, and he did not like this preliminary talk of his at all — at last he made bold to ask him the worst of it, what he would take? 'Why,' says Danel, ' I always liked the Quakers, they are a quiet, peace- able people who never go to law if they can help it, and it would be better for our great country if there were more such people in it. I never seed or heerd tell of any harm in 'em, except goin' the whole fijj^ur* for Gineral Jackson, and that everlastin' almighty villain, Van Buren ; yes, I love the Quakers, I hope they'll go the Webster ticket yet — and I'll go for you as low as I can any way afford, say 1,000 dollars.' "The Quaker well-nigh fainted when he heerd this ; but he was pretty deep too ; so says he : ' Lawyer, that's a great deal of money, but I have more cases there ; if I give you the 1,000 dollars will you plead the other cases I shall have to give you ? • ' Yes,' says Danel, * I will to the best of my humble abilities.' So down they went to Rhode Island, and Danel tried the case and carried it for the Quaker. Well, the Quaker he goes round to all the folks that had suits in court, and says he, 'What will you give me if I get the great Danel to plead for you ? It cost me 1,000 dollars for a fee, but now he and I are pretty thick, and as he is on the spot, I'd get him to plead cheap for you' — so he got three hundred dollars froin one, and two from another, and so on, until he got eleven hundred dollars, jist one hundred dollars more than he gave. Danel was in a great rage when he heerd this. ' What,' said he, ' do you think I would agree to your lettin' me out like a horse to hire?' 'Friend Danel,' said the Quaker, 'didst thou not undertake to plead all such cases as I should have to give thee ? If thou wilt not stand to thy agreement, neither will I stand to mine.' Danel laughed out ready to split his sides at this. 'Well,' says he, ' I guess I might as well stand still for you to put the bridle on this time, for you have fairly pinned me up in a corner of the fence anyhow' — so he went good-humouredly to work and pleaded them all. -- ;' jw-f i CONVERSATIONS AT THE RIVER PHILIP II "This lazy feller, Pugnose," continued the Clockmaker, "that keeps this inn is goin' to sell off and go to the States ; he says lie has to work too hard here ; that the markets are dull, and the winters too long ; and he guesses he can live easier there ; I guess he'll find his mistake afore he has been there long. Why, our country am'fto be compared to this, on no account whatever : our country never made us to be the great nation we are, but we made the country. How on airth could we, if we were all like old Puj^nose, as lazy, as ugly, have made that cold thin soil of New England produce what it does? Why, sir, the land between Bostori and Salem would starve a flock of geese ; and yet look at Salem, it has more cash than would buy Nova Scotia from the King. We rise airly, live frugally, and work late : what we get we take care of. To all this we add enterprise and intelligence — a fellow that finds work too hard here had better not go to the States. I met an Irishman, one Pat Lannigan, last week, who had just returned from the States. * Why,' says I, ' Pat, what on airih brought you back?' ' Bad luck to 'em,' says Pat, ' if I warn't properly bit. " What do you get a day in Nova Scotia?" says Judge Beler to me. "Four shillings, your Lordship," says I. "There are no lords here," says he, " we are all free. Well," says he, " PIl give you as much in one day as you can aim there in two ; I'll give you eight shillings." " Long life to your Lordship," says I. So next day to it I went with a party of men a-digging of a piece of canal, and if it wasn't a hot day my name is not Pat Lannigan. Presently I looked up and straightened my back. Says I to a comrade of mine : "Mick," says I, "I'm very dry." With that says the overseer : "We don't allow gentle- men to talk at their work in this country." Faith, I soon found out for my two days' pay in one I had to do two days' work in one, and pay two weeks' board in one, and at the end of a month I found myself no better off in pocket than in Nova Scotia ; while the devil a bone in my body that aidn't ache with pain ; and as for my nose, it took to bleedin', and bled day and night entirely. Upon my soul, Mr. Slick,' said he, ' the poor labourer does not last long in your country ; what with new rum, hard labour, and hot weather, you'll see the graves of the Irish each side of the canals, for all the v/orld like two rows of potatoes in a field that have forgot to come up.' " It is a land, sir," continued the Clockmaker, " of hard work. We have two kinds of slaves — the nii^gers and the white slaves. All European labourers and blacks who come out to us do our hard bodily work, while we direct it to a profitable end ; neither rich nor poor, high nor low, with us eat the bread of idleness. Our whole capital is in active operation, our whole population is in active employment. An idle feller like Pugnose, who runs away to us, is clapt into harness afore he knows where he bees, and is made to work ; like a horse that refuses to draw, he is put into the team-boat. He finds some afore him, and oihers behind him ; he must either draw or be dragged to death J' ■•■■>. *h X.3 THE CLOCKMAKER ^ c ■■- CHAPTER V ' • V '^ JUSTICE PETTIFOG ' , In the morning the Clockmaker informed me tliat a justices' court was to be held that day at Pugnose's inn, and he guessed he could do a little business among the country folks that would be assem- bled there. Some of them, he said, owed him for clocks, and it would save him a world of travellin' to have the justice and con- stable to drive them up together. If you want a fat wether there's nothin' like penning up the whole flock in a corner. " I guess," said he, " if General Campbell knew what sort of a man that 'are magistrate was, he'd disband him pretty quick ; he's a regular suck-egg — a disgrace to the country. I guess if he acted that way in Kentucky he'd get a breakfast of cold lead some mornin' out of the small eend of a rifle he'd find pretty difficult to digest. They tell me he issues three hundred writs a year, the cost of which, includin' that tarnation constable's fee, can't amount to nothin' less than 3,000 dollars per annum. If the Hon. Daniel Webster had him before a jury I reckon he'd turn him inside out, and slip him back again as quick as an old stocking. He'd paint him to the life, as plain to be known as the head of Gineral Jackson. He's jist a fit feller for Lynch Law, to be tried, hanged, and damned, all at once. There's more nor him in the country — there's some of the breed in every county in the Province ; jist one or two to do the dirty work, as we keep niggers for jobs that would give a white man the cholera. They ought to pay his passage, as we do with such critters ; tell him his place is taken in the mail coach, and if he is found here after twenty four hours they'd make a carpenter's plumb-bob of him, and hang him outside the church steeple to try if it was perpendikilar. He almost always gives judgment for plaintiff", and if the poor defendant has an off-set he makes him sue It, so that it grinds a grist both ways for him, like the upper and lower millstone." People soon began to assemble, some on foot, and others on horseback and in wa.tjgnns. Pugnose's tavern was all bustle and confusion — plaintiffs, defendants, and witnesses, all talking, quarrelling, explaining, and drinking. " Here comes the Squire," said one. '* I'm thinking his horse carries more roguery than law," said another. " They must have been in proper want of timber to make a justice of," said a third, " when they took such a crooked stick as that." " Sap-headed enough, too, for refuse," said a stout-looking farmer. *' May be so," said another, " but as hard at the heart as a log of elm." '' Howsomever," said a third, " I hope it won't be long afore he has the wainy edge scored off of him, anyhow." Many more such remarks were made, all drawn from familiar objects, but all expressive of bitterness and contempt. Justice pettifog 13 He carried one or two large books with him in his gig, and a considerable roll of papers. As soon as the obsequious Mr. Pugnose saw him at the door he assisted him to alight, ushered him into the " best room," and desired the constable to attend " the Squire." The crowd immediately entered, and the constable opened the court in due torm and commanded silence. Taking out a long list of causes, Mr. Pettifo:^ commenced reading the names: "James Sharp versus John Slug — call John Slug." John Slug being duly called, and not answering, was defaulted. In this manner he proceeded to default twenty or thirty persons. At last he came to a cause: "William Hare versus Dennis O'Brien— call Dennis O'Brien." " Here I am," said a voice from the other room, " here I am. Who has anything to say to Dennis O'Brien?" "Make less noise, sir,'' said the Justice, "or I'll commit you. "Commit mc, is it?'' said Dennis. Take care then. Squire, you don't commit yourself." " You are sued by William Hare for three pounds for a month's board and edging. What have you to say to it ? " " Say to it ! " said Dennis. " Did you ever hear what Tim Doyle said when' he was goin' to be hanged for stealing a pig ? Says he, * If the pig hadn't squealed in the bag, I'd never have been found out, so I wouldn't.' So I'll take warnin' by Tim Doyle's fate : I say nothin' ; let him prove it." Here Mr. Hare was called upon for his proof; but taking it for granted that the board would be admitted, and the defence opened, he was not prepared with the proof. " I demand," said Dennis, "I demand an unsuit." Here there was a consultation between the Justice and the plaintiff, when the Justice said, " I shall not nonsuit him ; I shall continue the cause." " What 1 Hang it up till next court ? You had better hang me up then at once. How can a poor man come here so often ? This may be the entertainment Pugnose advertises for horses, but by Jacquers ! it is no entertainment for me. I admit, then, sooner than come again ; I admit." " You admit you : and he we don't valy it a cent ; we teach it, and so we do paintin' and music, because the English do, and we Uke to go ahead on 'em, even in them 'are things. As for readin', it's well enough for them as has nothin' to do, and writin' is plaguy apt to bring a man to States prison, particularly if he writes his name so like another man as to have it mistaken for his'n. Cypherin' is the thing — if a man knows how to cypher, he is sure to get rich. We are a 'calculatin" people, we all cypher. "A horse that won't go ahead is apt to run back, and the more you whip him the faster he goes astarn. That's jist the way with the Nova Scotians ; they have been runnin' back so fast lately that they have tumbled over a da/ik or two, and nearly broke their necks ; and now they've got up and shook themselves, they swear their dirty clothes and bloody noses are all owin' to the banks. I guess if they won't look ahead for the futur', they'll lam to look behind, and see if there's a bank near hand 'em. " A bear always goes down a tree stam foremost. He is a cunnin' critter, he knows t'an't safe to carry a heavy load over his head, and his rump is so heavy, he don't like to trust it over his'n, for fear it might take a lurch, and carry him heels over head to the ground ; so he lets his starn down first, and his head arter. I wish the blue-noses would find as good an excuse in their rumps for running backwards as he has. But the bear ' cyphersj he knows how many pounds his hams weigh, and he * calculates^ if he carried them up in the air, they might be top heavy for him. " If we had this Province we'd go to work and 'cypher' right off. Halifax is nothin' without a river or back country ; add nothin' to nothin', and I guess you have nothin' still— add a railroad to the Bay of Fundy, and how much do you git ? That requires cyphering — it will cost 300,000 dollars, or 75,000 pounds your money — add for notions omitted m the addition column one third, and it takes even money — ioo,coo pounds. Interest at 5 per cent. 50,000 pounds a year ; now turn over the slate and count up freight. I make it upwards of 25,000 pounds a year. If I had you at the desk, I'd show you a bill of items. Now comes ' subtraction^' deduct cost of engines, wear and tear, and expenses, and what not, and reduce it for shortness down to 5,000 pounds a year, the amount of interest. What figures have you got now ? You have an investment that pays interest, I guess, and if it don't pay more, then I don't know chalk from cheese. But suppose it don't, and that it only yields 2\ per cent, (and it requires good cypherin', I tell you, to say how it would act with folks that like goin' astarn bettexthan goin' ahead), what would them 'are wise ones say then ? W-iyr, the critters would say it won't pay ; but I say the sum an't half stated. Can you count in your head?" "Not to any extent," said I. "Well, that's an etarnal pity," said the Clockmaker, "for I should like to show you Yankee cypherin'. What is the entire raal estate of Halifax worth, Si. i8 THE CLOCKMAKER at a valeation?" "I really cannot say." "Ah," said he, "I see " you don't cypher, and Latin and Greek won't do ; them 'are people had no railroads. Well, find out, and then only add ten per cent, to it, for increased valy, and if it don't give the cost of a railroad, then my name is not Sam Slick. Well, the land between Halifax and Ardoise is worth — nothing ; add 5 per cent, to that, and send the sum to the College, and ax the students how much it comes to. But when you get into Hants County, I guess you have land worth comin' all the way from Boston to see. His Royal Highness the King, I guess, hasn't got the like in his dominions. Well, add 15 per cent, to all them 'are lands that border on Windsor Basin, and 5 per cent, to what butts on basin of Mines, and then what do you get? A pretty considerable sum, I tell you ; but it's no use to give you the chalks if you can't keep the tallies. " Now we will lay down the schoolmaster's assistant and take up another book, every bit and grain as good as that, although these folks aftect to sneer at it — I mean human natur'." "Ah," said I, " a knowledge of that was of great service to you, certainly, in the sale of your clock to the old Deacon ; let us see how it will assist you now." "What does a clock want that's run down ?" said he. " Undoubtedly to be wound up," I replied. ** I guesr. you've hit it this time. The folks of Halifax have run down, and they'll never go to all etarnity till they are wound up into motion. The works are all good, and it is plaguy well cased and set — it only wants a key. Put this railroad into operation ; and the activity it will inspire into business, the new life it will give the place will surprise you. It's like liftin' a child off its crawling, and putting him on his legs to run ; see how the little critter ;oes ahead arter that. A kurnel (I don't mean a kurnel of militia, tor we don't valy that breed o' cattle nothin* — they do nothin' but strut about and screech all day like peacocks) but a kurnel of grain, when sowed, will stool into several shoots, and each shoot bear many kurnels, and will multiply itself thus : 4 times i is 4, and 4 times 25 is 100 (you see all natur' cyphers, except the blue-noses). Jist so ; this here railroad will not perhaps beget other railroads, but it will beget a spirit of enterprise, that will beget other useful improvements. It will enlarge the sphere and the means of trade, open new sources of traffic and supply, develop resources, and what is of more value perhaps than all, beget motion. It will teach the folks that go astarn or stand stock still, like the State-house in Boston, though they do say the foundation of that has moved a little this summer, not only to go * ahead^* but to nullify time and space. ^^ Here his horse (who, feeling the animation of his master, had been restive of late) set off at a most prodigious rate of trotting. It was some time before he was reined up. When I overtook him, the Clockmaker said : " This old Yankee horse, you see, understands our word *go ahead' better nor these blue-noses. THE PREACHER THAT WANDERED FRO^ HP TB^ ' IQ *' IVAa/ is ;7," hg continued—" what is it that 'j tiers ' tk. uelf %f a young country^ and hangs like a * poke ' around its neck f IVksi retards the cultivation of its soil and the improvement of it* fisheries f—the high price of labour^ I guess. Well^ whafs a rai* roadf The substitution of mechanical for human and animal labour^ on a scale as grand as our great country. Labour is dear in America^ and cheap in Europe. A railroad^ therefore^ is com- paratively no manner of use to them^ to what it is to us — it does wonders there, but it works miracles here. There it makes the old man younger, but here it makes a child a ^iant. To us it is river^ briage, road, and canal — all one. It saves what we han't got to spare — men, horses, carts, vessels, barges, and whats all in all — tifne. " Since the creation of the univaise, I guess it's the greatest invention arter man. Now, this is what I call 'cypherin" arter human natur', while figures are cypherin' arter the 'assistant.' These two sorts of cypherin' make idication ; and you may depend on't, Squire, there is nothing like folks cypherin', if they want to go ' ahead.* '' . CHAPTER VIII MS summer. THE PREACHER THAT WANDERED FROM HIS TEXT ** I GUESS," said the Clockmaker, "we know more of Nova Scotia than the blue-noses themselves do. The Yankees are further ahead than most folks ; they can e'en a'most see round t'other side of a thing ; indeed, some on them have hurt their eyes by it, and sometimes I think that's the reason such a sight of them wear spectacles. The first I ever heerd tell of Cumberland was from Mr. Everett of Congress ; he know'd as much about it as if he had lived here all his days, and maybe a little grain more. He is a most splendid man that — we class him No. i, letter A. One night I chanced to go into General Peep's tavern at Boston, and who should I see there but the great Mr. P>erett, a-studying over a map of the Province of Nova Scotia. * Why, it ain't possible 1' said I ; ' if that ain't Professor Everett, as I am alive ! Why, how do you do, Professor ? ' ' Pretty well, I give you thanks,' said he, ' how be you ? But I ain't no longer Professor ; I gin that up, and also the trade of preachin', and took to politics.' ' You don't say so,' said I ; 'why, what on airth is the cause o' that?* 'Why, says he, 'look here, Mr. Slick. What is the use of reading of the Proverbs of Solomon to our free and enlightened citizens, that are every mite and morsal as wise as he was "i That 'are man under- took to say there was nothin' new under the sun. I guess he'd think i 20 THE CLOCKMAKER he spoke a little too fast if he was to see our steam-boats, railroads, and india-rubber shoes— three inventions worth more nor ah he knew put in a heap togeiher.' 'Well, I don't know,' says I, 'but somehow or another, 1 guess you'd h.ive found preachin' the best speculation in the long run ; them 'are Unitarians pay better than Uncle Sam.' (We call," said the Clockmaker, "the American public Un( le Sam, as you call the British John Bull.) "That remark seemed to grig him a little; he felt oneasy-like and walked twice across the room, fifty fjithoms deep in thought. At last he said : 'Which way are you from, Mr. Slick, this hitch?' *Why,' says I, ' I've been away up south, a-spekelaiin' m nutmegs.' *I hope,' says the Professor, 'they were a good article, the raal right-down genu///^ thing.' 'No mistake,' says I, 'no mistake, Professor ; they were all prime, first chop. But why did you ax that 'are question.?' 'Why,' says he, ' that etarnal scoundrel, that Captain John Allspice of Nahant, he used to trade to Charleston, and he carried a cargo once there of fifty barrels of nutmegs. Well, he put half a bushel of good ones into each eend of the barrel, and the rest he filled up with wooden ones, so like the raal thing, no soul could tell the difference until he bit one with his teethy and that he never thought of doing of, until he was first bit himself. Well, it's been a standin' joke with them 'are Southerners agin us ever since. " ' It was only t'other day at Washington, that everlastin' Varginy duellist. General Cuffy, afore a number of senators, at the Presi- dent's house, said to me, "Well, Everett," says he, "you know I was always dead agin your tariff bill, but I have changed my mind since your able speech on it ; I shall vote for it now." " Give me your hand," says I, " General Cuffy ; the Boston folks will be dreadful glad when they hear your splendid talents are on our side ; I think it will go now ; we'll carry it." " Yes," says he, " your factories down east beat all natur' ; they go ahead on the English a long chalk." You may depend I was glad to hear the New Englanders spoken of that way — I felt proud, I tell you. "And," says he, "there's one manufacture that might stump all Europe to produce the like." "What's that.?" says I, look in' as pleased all the while as a gal that's tickled. " Why," says he, " the 'facture of wooden nutmegs ; thats a cap sheef, that bangs the bush — it's a real Yankee patent invention." With that all the gentlemen set up a laugh you might have heerd away down to Sandy Hook, and the General gig-gobbled like a great turkey cock, the half-nigger, half-alligalor-like-looking villain as he is. I tell you what, Mr. Slick,' said the Professor, ' I wish with all my heart them 'are damned nutmegs were in the bottom of the sea. ' That was the first oath I ever heerd him let slip ; but he was dreadful ryled, and it made me feel ugly too, for it's awful to hear a minister swear, and the only match I know for it is to hear a re^'ular sneezer of a sinner quote Scriptur'. Says I, * Mr. Everett, that's THE PRE/iCIIER THAT WANDERED FROM HIS TEXT 21 the fruit that politics bear ; for my part, I never seed a good graft on it yet, that bore anything ^ood to cat or easy to digest.' "Well, ne stood awhile looking down on the carpet, with his hands behind him, quite taken up a-cyphcrin' in his head, and then he straightened himself up, and he put his hand upon his heart, jist as he ed to do in the pulpit (lie looked pretty, I tell you), and slowly liftii ' his hand off his breast, he said : ' Mr. Slick, our tree of liberty was a most beautiful tree— a splendid tree- it was a siyht to look at ; it was well fenced and well proiected, and it grew so sta.ely and so handsome, that strangers came from all parts of the globe to see it. They all allowed it was the most splendid thing in the world. Well, the mobs have broken in and tore down the fences, and snapped off the branches, and scattered all the leaves about, and it looks no better than a gallus tree. 1 am afeered,' said he, *■ I tremble to think on it, but I am atecred our ways will no longer be ways of pleasantness, nor our paths paths of peace ; I am, indeed, I vow, Mr. Siick.' He looked so strcakel and so chopfallen, that I felt kinder sorry for him ; I actilly thought he'd a boo- hood right out. "So, to turn the conversation, says I : * Professor, what 'are map is that I seed you a-studyin' over when I came in ?' Says he : * It's a map of Nova Scotia. That,' says he, ' is a valuable Province, a raal clever Province ; we han't got the like on it, but it's most plaguily in our way.' ' Well,' says I, ' send for Sam Patch' (that 'are man was a great diver," says the Clockmaker, " and the last dive he took was off the falls of Niagara, and he was never hcerd of agin till t'other day, when Captain Enoch Wentworth, of ihe 5usy Ann H'/ia/er, saw him in the South Sea. 'Why,' says Cap- tain Enoch to him, 'why, Sam,' says he, 'how on airth did you get here? I thought you was drowned to the Canadian lines.' 'Why,' says he, ' I didn't get on airth here at all, but I came right slap throu[\h it. In that 'are Niagara dive I went so everlastin' deep, I thought it was just as short to come up t'otherside, so out I came in these parts. If I don't take the shine off the sea sarpent when I get back to Boston, then my name's not Sam Patch.') 'Well,' says I, ' Professor, send for Sam Patch, the diver, and let bim dive down and stick a torpedo in the bottom of the Province, and blow it up ; or it that won't do, send for some of our steam tow-boats Irom our great eastern cities, and tow it out to sea ; you know there's nothin' our folks can't do, when they once fairly take hold on a thing in airnest.' " Well, that made him laugh ; he seemed to forget about the nutmegs, and says he : ' That's a bright scheme, but it won't do ; we shall want the Province some day or another, I know, and I guess we'll buy it of King William ; they say he is over head and ears in debt, and owes nine hundred millions of pounds starlin' — we'll buy it, as we did Florida. In the meantime we must have a canal from Bay Fundy to Bay Varte, right through Cumberland 22 THE CLOCKMAKER neck, by Shittyack, for our fishing vessels to g-o to Labrador.* * I guess you must ax leave first,' said I. ' That's jist what I was cyphering at,' says he, ' when you came in. I believe we won't ax them at all, but jist fall to and do it ; ifs a road of tieedcessity. I once heard Chief Justice Marshall of Baltimore say : *' If the people's highway is dangerous, a man may take down a fence, and pass through the fields as a way of needcessityj" and we shall do it on that principle, as the way round by Isle Sable is dangerous.' ' I wonder the Nova Scotians don't do it for their own convenience,' said I, * it wouldn't make a bad speculation that.' * The critters don't know no better,' said he. ' Well,' says I, ' the St. John's folks, why don't they? for they are pretty cute chaps them.' "'They remind me,' says the Professor, * of Jim Billings. You knew Jim Billings, didn't you, Mr. Slick?' 'Oh, yes,' said I, 'I knew him. It was him that made such a talk by shippin' blankets to the West Ingies.' ' The same,' says he. ' Well, I went to see him the other day at Mrs. Lecain's Boardin' House,' and says I, "Billings," says I, "you have a nice location here." "A plaguy sight too nice,'' said he. " Marm Lecain makes such an eternal touss about her carpets, that I have for to go along that everlasting long entry, and down both staircases, to the street door to spit ; and it keeps all the gentlemen a-runnin' with their mouths full all day. I had a raal bout with a New Yorker this momin' ; I run down to the street door, and afore I seed any body a-comin', I let go, and I vow if I didn't let a chap have it all over his white waistcoat. Well, he makes a grab at me, on his there, and I chain shuts the door right to taut, and leaves him wrist, and hooks and into Marm the door Lecain's bedroom like a shot, and hides behind the curtain. Well, he roared like a bull till black Lucretia, one of the house helps, let him go, and they looked into all the gentlemen's rooms and found nobody so I got out of that 'are scrape. So, what with Marm Lecain's carpets in the house, and other folks' waistcoats in the street, it's too nice a location for me, I guess, so I shall up killoch and off to-morrow to the TV^^-mont." " * Now,' says the Professor, ' the St. John's folks are jist like Billings — fifty cents would have bought him a spit-box, and saved him all them 'are journeys to the street door, and a canal to Bay Varte would save the St. John's folks a voyage all round Nova Scotia. Why, they can't get at their own backside settlements without a voyage most as long as one to Europe. If we had that ^are neck of land in Cumberlatid^ we'd have a ship canal there, and a town at each eend of it as big as Portland. You may talk of Solomon,' snid the Professor, 'but if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like a lily of the field, neither was he in all his wisdom equal in knowledge to a raal free American citizen.' ' Well,' said I, ' Professor, we are a most enlightened people, that's sartain, but somehow or another I don't like to hear you run down King V YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING 23 Solomon neither ; perhaps he warn't quite so wise as Uncle Sam, but then,' said I (drawin' close to the Professor, and whispering into his ear, for fear any folks in the bar-room might hear me) — • but then,' said I, * maybe he was every bit and grain as honest.' Says he : ' Mr. Slick, there are some folks who think a good deal and say but little, and they are wise folks ; and there are others agin who blart right out whatever comes uppermost, and I guess they are pretty considerable superfine darned fools.' " And with that he turned right round, and sot down to his map, and never said another word, lookin' as mad as a hatter the whole blessed time.'* CHAPTER IX YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING " Did you ever heer tell of Abernethy, a British doctor?" said the Clockmaker. " Frequently," said I ; "he was an eminent man, and had a most extensive practice." "Well, I reckon he was a vulgar critter that," he replied. " He treated the Hon. Alden Gobble, Secretary to our Legation at London, dreadful bad once ; and I guess if it had been me he had used that way I'd a' fixed his flint for him, so that he'd think twice afore he'd fire such another shot as that 'are again. I'd a' made him make tracks, I guess, as quick as a dog does a hog from a potato field. He'd a' found his way of the hole in the fence a plaguy sight quicker than he came in, I reckon." " His manner," said I, " was certainly rather unceremonious at times, but he was so honest and so straightforward that no person was, I believe, ever seriously ofifended with him. It was his way." " Then his way was so plaguy rough," continued the Clockmaker, "that he'd been the better if it had been hammered and mauled down smoother. I'd a' levelled him as flat as a flounder." " Pray, what was his offence ?" said I. " Bad enough, you may depend. The Hon. Alden Gobble was dyspeptic, and he suffered great oneasiness arter eatin', so he goes to Abernethy for advice. ' What's the matter with you ? ' said the doctor, list that way, without even passing the time o' day with him. 'What's the matter with you?' said he. 'Why,' says Alden, * I presume I have the dyspepsy.' * Ah 1 ' said he, ' I see ; a Yankee swallered more dollars and cents than he can digest.' * I am an American citizen,' says Alden, with great dignity ; ' I am Secretary to our Legation at the court of St. James.' * The devil you are ! ' said Abernethy ; * then you'll soon get rid of your dyspepsy.' * I don't see that 'are inference,' said Alden. * It don't foller from what you predicate at all — it an't a TJl :--•- /f' 24 THE CLOCKMAKER natural consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be ill because he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened people to fill an important office.' (The truth is you could no more trap Alden than you could an Indgian. He could see other folks' trail, and made none himself ; ho. was a rani diplomatist, and I believe our diplomatists are allowed to be the best in the world.) ' But I tell you it does foller,' said the doctor ; ' for in the company you'll have to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian.' " It was an everlasting pity Alden contnidicted him, for he broke out like one ravin' distracted mad. I'll be d — d,' said he, * if ever I saw a Yankee that didn't bolt his food like a boa con- strictor. How the devil can you expect to digest food that you neither take the trouble to dissect nor time to masticate ? It's no wonder you lose your teetli, for you never use them ; nor your digestion, for you overload it ; nor your saliva, for you expend it on the carpets, instead of your food. It's disgusting ; it's beastly. You Yankees load your stc^nachs as a Devonshire man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and as fast as he can pitch it with a dung-fork, and drive off; and then you complain that such a load of compost is too heavy for you. Dyspepsy, eh ! infernal guzzling you mean. I'll tell you what, Mr. Secretary of Legation, take half the time to eat that you do to drawl out your words, chew your food as much as you do your filthy tobacco, and you'll be well in a month.' "*I don't understand such language,' said Alden (for he was fairly ryled, and got his dander up, and when he shows clear grit, he looks wicked ugly, I tell you) ; ' I don't understand such language, sir ; I came here to consult you professionally, and not to be — ' ' Don't understand I ' said the doctor, ' why, it's plain English ; but here, read my book' — and he shoved a book into his hands, and left him in an instant, standin' alone in the middle of the room. "If the Honble. Alden Gobble had gone right away, and demanded his passports, and returned home with the Z^gation, in one of our first-class frigates (I guess the English would as soon see pyson as one o' them 'are sarpents), to Washington, the President and the people would have sustained him in it, I guess, until an apology was offered for the insult to the nation. I guess if it had been me," said Mr. Slick, " I'd a' headed him afore he slipt out o' the door, and pinned him up agin the wall, and made him bolt his words agin, as quick as he throw'd 'em out, for I never see'd an Englishman yet that didn't cut his words as short as he does his horse's tail, close up to the stump." " It certainly was very coarse and vulgar language, and I think," said I, " that your Secretary had just cause to be offended at such an ungentlemanlike attack, although he showed his good sense in treatin.tj it with the contempt it deserved." '* It was plaguy lucky," he replied, "for the doctor, I tell you, that he cut his stick as he YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING 25 did, and made himself scarce, for Alden was an ugly customer ; he'd a* gin him a proper scalding — he'd a' taken the bristles oft his hide as clean as the skin of a spring shote of a pig killed at Christmas." The Clockmaker was evidently excited by his own story, and to indemnify himself for these remarks on his countrymen, he indulged for some time in ridiculing the Nova Scolians. " Do you see that 'are flock of col^s ? " said he, as we passed one of those beautiful prairies that render the valleys of Nova Scotia so verdant and so fertile ; " well, I guess they keep too much of that 'are stock. I heerd an Indgian one day ax a tavern keeper for some rum. 'Why, Joe Spawdeeck,' said he, ' I reckon you have got too much already.' * Too much of anything,' said Joe, 'is not good, but too much rum is jist enough.' I guess these blue-noses think so 'bout their horses ; they are fairly eat up by them, out of house and home, and they are no good neither. They bean't good saddle-horses, and they bean't good draft beasts — they are jist neither one thing nor t'other. They are like the drink of our Connecticut folks. At mowing time they use molasses and water, nasty stuff, only fit to catch flies — it spiles good water and makes bad beer. No wonder the folks are poor. Look at them 'are ^'reat dykes ; well, they all go to feed horses, and look at their grain fields on the upland ; well, they are all sowed with oats to feed horses, and they buy their bread from us ; so we feed the asses, and they feed the horses. If I had them critters on that 'are marsh, on a location of mine, I'd just take my rifle and shoot every one on 'em ; the nasty, yo'-necked, cat-hammed, heavy-headed, flat-eared, crooked- shanked, lonii[-legge'\ narrow-chested, good-for-nothin' brutes ; they ain't worth their keep one winter. I vow I wish one of ihose blue-noses, with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, coat tails pinned up behind like a leather blind of a shay, an old spur on one heel, and a pipe stuck through his hat-band, mounted on one of those limber-timbered critters, that moves its hind legs like a hen a-scratching gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in New York, for a sight. Lord ! I think I hear the West Point cadets a-larfin' at him : * Who brought that 'are scarecrow out of standin' corn and stuck him here? I guess that 'are citizen came from away down east out of the Notch of the White Mountains. Here comes the cholera doctor from Canada — not from Canada, I guess, neither, for he don't look as if he had ever been ainong the rapids,^ If they wouldn't poke fun at him it's a pity. "If they'd keep less horses and more sheep, they'd have food and clothin', too, instead of buyin' both. I vow I've larfed afore now till I have fairly wet myself a-cryin' to see one of these folks catch a horse : maybe he has to go two or three miles of an errand. Well, down he goes on the dyke, with a bridle in one hand and an old tin pan in another, full of oats, to catch his beast. First he goes 26 THE CLOCKMAKER to one flock of horses, and then to another, to see if he can find his own critter. At last he gets slight on him, and goes softly up to him, a-shakm' of his oats and a-coaxin' him, and jist as he goes to put his hand upon him, away he starts, all head and tail, and the rest with him ; that starts another flock, and they set a third off, and at l.ist every troop on 'em goes, as if Old Nick was arter them, till they amount to two or three hundred in a drove. Well, he chases them clear across the T^mtarmar marsh, seven miles good, over ditches, creeks, mire-holcs, and fla;,^-ponds, and then they turn and make a fair chase for it back again seven miles more. By this time, I presume, they are all pretty considerably well tired, and Blue- Nose, he goes and gets up all the men and folks in the neighbourhood, and catches his beast, as they do a mouse arter he is fairly run down ; so he runs fourteen miles to ride two, because he is in a tarnation hurry. It's e'en a'most equal to eating soup with a fork when you are short of time. It puts me in mind of catchin' birds by sprinklin' salt on their tails ; it's only one horse a man can ride, arter all. One has no shoes, t'other has a colt, one arn't broke, another has a sore back, while a fifth is so etarnal cunnin', all Cumberland couldn't catch him, till winter drives him up to the barn for food. " Most of them 'are dyke marshes have what they call honey- ifots in 'em ; that is a deep hole all full of squash, where you can't find no bottom. Well, every now and then, when a feller goes to look for his horse, he sees his tail a-stickin' right out an eend from one of those honey-pots, and wavin' like a head of broom com ; and sometimes you see two or three trapped there, e'en a'most smothered, everlastin' tired, half-swimmin', half-wadin', like rats in a molasses cask. When they find 'em in that 'are pickle they go and get ropes, and tie 'em tight round their necks, and half hang 'em to make 'em float, and then haul 'em out. Awful poor critters they be, you may depend, when they do come out ; for all the world like half-drowned kittens — all slinkey slimey — with their great long tails glued up like a swab of oakum dipped in tar. If they don't look foolish, it's a pity 1 Well, they have to nurse these critters all winter, with hot mashes, warm covering, and what not, and when spring comes, they mostly die, and if they don't, they are never no good arter. I wish with all my heart half the horses in the country were barrelled up in these here * honey-pots,' and then there'd be near about one half too many left for profit. Jist look at one of these barn-yards in the spring — half-a-dozen half- starved colts, with their hair looking a thousand ways for Sunday, and their coats hangin' in tatters, and half-a-dozen good-for-nothin' old horses a-crowdin' out the cows and sheep. " Can you wotider that peof)le who keep such an unprofitable stock come out of the small eend of the horn in the long run ? " THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART 37 CHAPTER X THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART—THE BROKEN HEART tn com ; 1 a'most As we approached tlie inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy. " It's pretty well on in the evenin', I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is as onsartin in her temper as a mornin' in April ; it's all sunshine or all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck and hiss like a goose with a flock of goslin's. I wonder what on earth Pugwash was a-thinkin' on when he signed articles of partnership with that 'are woman ; she's not a bad-lookin' piece of furniture, neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should carry such a stiff upper lip — she reminds me of our old minister, Joshua Hopewell's apple-trees. "The old minister had an orchard of most partikilar good fruit, for he was a great hand at buddin', gnftin', and what not, and the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. Well, there were some trees hung over the fence ; I never seed such bearers, the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'n always hung there like bait to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at 'em. So I said to him one day : * Minister,' said I, ' how on airth do you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else can't do it nohow?' * Why,' says he, ' they are dreadful pretty fruit, an't they ? ' * I guess,' said I, * there an't the like on 'em in all Connecticut.' 'Well,' says he, ' Pll tell you the secret, but >ou needn't let on to no one about it. That 'are row next the fence I grafted in myself. I took great pains to get the right kind, I sent clean up to Roxberry, and away down to Squaw-neck Creek.' I was afeerd he was a-goin' for to give me day and date for every graft, being a terrible long- winded man in his stories, so says I : ' I know that. Minister, but how do you preserve them?' * Why, I was a-goin' to tell you,' said he, ' when you stopped me. That 'are outward row I grafted myself with the choicest I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so eternal sour no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and they sarch no farther. They snicker at my graftin', and I laugh in my sleeve, I guess, at their penetration.* " Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's apples, very temptin' fruit to look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when lie married, 1 guess it's pretty puckcry by this time. However, if she goes for to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of soft sawder^ that will take the frown out of her frontispiece, and make her dial-plate as smooth as a lick of copal varnish. It's a 28 THE CLOCKMAKER pity she's such a kickin* devil, too, for she has good points — good eye, good foot, neat pastern, fine chest, a clean set of limL^, and carries a good — But here we are ; now you'll see what soft sawder will do." When we entered the house the traveller's room was all in darkness, and on opening the opposite door into the sitting-room, we found the female part of the tamily extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flici^ular conveyance ; and when they do come, they are generally shelled and in kegs, and never in good order. I have not had a real good Ramshag in my house these two years, since Governor Maitland was here. He was amazin' fond of them, and Lawyer Talkemdeaf sent his carriage there on purpose to procure 'em fresh for him. Now we can't get them. But we have the Shittyacks in perfection ; say the word, and they shall be served up immediately." A good dish and an unexpected dish is most acceptable, and certainly my American friend and myself did ample justice to the oysters, which, if they have not so classical a name, have quite as good a flavour as their far-famed brethren of Milton. Mr. Slick ate so heartily that when he resumed his conversation, he indulged in the most melancholy forebodings. "Did you see that 'are nigger," said he, "that removed the oyster shells ? Well, he's one of our Chesapickers, one of Gineral Cuffy's slaves. I wish Admiral Cockburn had taken them all off our hands at the same rate. We made a pretty good sale of them 'are black cattle, I guess, to the British. I wish we were well rid of 'em all. The Blacks and the Whites in the States show their teeth and snarl ; they are jist ready to fall to. The Protestants and Catholics begin to lay back their ears, and turn tail for kickin'. The Abolitionists and Planters are at it like two bulls in a pastur*. Mob-law and Lynch-law are workin' like yeast in a barrel, and frothing at the bung-hole. NulHf.cation \ind Tariff are like a charcoal pit, all covered up, but burnin' inside, and sendin' out smoke at every crack enough to stifle a horse. General Govern- ment and State Government every now and then square off and sparr, and the first blow given will bring a genu/«« set-to. Surplus Revenu is another bone of contention ; like a shin of beef thrown among a pack of dogs, it will set the whole on 'em by the ears. f. if- (I If SI 32 THE CLOCKMAKER "You have heerd tell of cotton rags dipt in turpentine, haven't you, how they produce combustion ? Well, I guess we have the elements of spontaneous coml)Ustion among us in abundance ; when it does break out, if you don't see an eruption of human gore wofse than Etna lava, then I'm mistaken. There'll be the very devil to pay, that's a fact. I expect the blacks will butcher the Southern whites, and the Northerners will have to turn out and butcher them aj,nn, and all this shoot, hang, cut, stab, and burn business will sweeten our folks' temper, as raw meat does that of a dog ; it fairly makes me sick to think on it. The explosion may clear the air again, and all be tranquil once more ; but it is an even chance if it don't leave us three steam-boat options — to be blown sky high, to be scalded to death, or drowned." " If this sad picture you have drawn be indeed true to nature, how does your country," said I, "appear so attractive as to draw to it so large a portion of our population ? " " It an't its attrac- tion," said the Clockmaker ; " it's nothin' but its power of suction ; it is a great whirlpool — a great vortex. It drags all the straw and chips and floatin' sticks, driftwood and trash, into it. The small crafts are sucked in, and whirl round and round like a squirrel in a cage — they'll never come out. Bigger ones pass through at certain times of tide, and can come in and out with good pilotage, as they do at Hell Gate up the sound." " You astonish me," said I, " beyond measure. Both your previous conversations with me, and the concurrent testimony of allmy friends who have visited the States, give a different view of it." " Your friends P^ said the Clockmaker, with such a tone of ineffable contempt that I felt a strong inclination to knock him down for his insolence. " Your friends ! Ensigns and leftenants, I guess, from the British marchin' regiments in the colonies, that run over five thousand miles of country in five weeks on leave of absence, and then return, lookin' as wise as the monkey that had seen the world. When they get back they are so chock full of knowledge of the Yankees that it runs over of itself, like a hogs- head of molasses rolled about in hot weather — a white froth and scum bubbles out of the bung ; wishy-washy trash they call tours, sketches, travels, letters, and what not ; vapid stuff, jist sweet enough to catch flies, cockroaches, and half-fledged galls. It puts me in mind of my French. I larnt French at night school one winter of our minister, Joshua Hopewell (he was the most larned man of the age, for he taught himself een almost every language in Europe). Well, next spring, when I went to Boston I met a Frenchman, and I began to jabber away French to him : * Polly woes a French shay,' says I. 'I don't understand Yankee yet,' says he. ' You don't understand,' says I. * Why, it's French. I guess you didn't expect to hear such good French, did you, away down east here ? But we speak it raal well, and it's ginerally allowed we speak English, too, better than the British.' *Ohl* OYSTERS PRODUCE MELANCHOLY FOREBODINGS 3J sp.yshe, ' you one very droll Yankee, dat very good joke, sare ; you talk Indgian and call it French.' 'But,' says I, ' Mister Mount shear, it is French, I vow ; real merchantable, without wainy edge or shake — all clear stuff ; it will pass survey in any market — it's ready stuck and seasoned.* ' Oh, very like,' says he, bowin' as polite as a black waiter at New Oxleens^ ' very like, only I never heerd it afore. Oh, very good French dat — clear stuffs no doubt, but I no understand — it's all my fault, I dare say, sare.' "Thinks I to myself, a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse. I see how the cat jumps. Minister knows so many languarjes he han't been particular enough to keep 'em in separate parcels, and mark 'em on the back, and they've got mixed, and, sure enough, I found my French was so overrun with other sorts that it was better to lose the whole crop than to go to weedin', for as fast as I pulled up any strange seedlin' it would grow right up agin as quick as wink, if there was the least bit of root in the world left in the ground, so I left it all to rot on the field. " There is no way so good to lam French as to live among 'em, and if you want to understand us you must live among us, too; your Halls, Hamiltons, and De Rouses, and such critters, what can they know of us ? Can a chap catch a likeness flying along a railroad ? Can he even see the featur's ? Old Admiral Anson once axed one of our folks afore our glorious Revolution (if the British had known us a little grain better at that time, they wouldn't have got whipped like a sack as they did then) where he came from ? ' From the Chesapeeke,' said he. * Aye, aye,' said the Admiral, 'from the West Indies.' ' I guess,* said the Southerner, *you may have been clean round the world. Admiral, but you have been plaguy little in it not to know better nor that.' " I shot a wild goose at River Philip last year, with the rice of Varginey fresh in his crop ; he must have cracked on near about as fast as them other geese, the British travellers. Wliich know'd the most of the country they passed over, do you suppose ? I guess it was much of a muchness — near about six of one and a half dozen of the t'other ; two eyes ain't much better than one, if they are both blind. •'No; if you want to know all about us and the blue-noses (a pretty considerable share of Yankee blood in them too, I tell you : the old stock comes from New England, and the breed is tolerable pure yet, near about one half apple scarce, and t'other half molasses, all except to the easterd, where there is a cross of the Scotch), jist ax me, and I'll tell you candidly. I'm not one of them that can't see no good points m my neighbour's crittur and no bad ones in my own : I've seen too much of the world for that, I guess. Indeed, in a gineral way, I praise other folks' beasts, and keep dark about my own. Says I, when I meet Blue- Nose mounted : •That's a raal smart horse of your'n ; put him out, I guess he'll trot like mad.' Well, he let's him have the spur, and the crittur c , \ { I I / I 54 THE CLOCKMAKER does his best, and then I pass him like a 8t*-eak of lijfhtninp with mine. The feller looks all taken aback at that. * Why,' says he, 'that's a raal clipper of your'n, I vow.' 'Middlin',' says I (quite cool, as if I had heerd that 'are same thing a thousand times), 'he's good enough for me; jist a fair trotter and nothin' to brag of.' That goes near about as far agin in a general way as a crackin' and a boasting does. Never tell folks you can go ahead on 'em, but do it ; it spares a great deal of talk, and helps them to save their breath to cool their broth. " No ; if you want to know the ins and the outs of the Yankees — I've wintered them and summered them ; I know all their points, shape, make, and breed ; I've tried 'em alongside of other folks, and I know where they fall short, where they mate 'em, and where they have the advantage, about as well as some who think they know a plaguy sight more. It an't them that stare the most that see the best, I guess. Our folks have their faults, and I know them (I warn't born blind, I reckon), but your friends, the tour writers, are a little grain too hard on us. Our old nigger wench had several dirty, ugly-lookin' children, and was proper cross to *cm. Mother used to say : ^Juno^ ifs better never to wipe a child's nose at all^ I^uessy than to wring it off.* '' CHAPTER XII THE AMERICAN EAGLE *' JiST look out of the door," said the Clockmaker, " and see what a beautiful night it is ; how calm, how still, how clear it is — bean't it lovely ? I like to look up at them 'are stars when I am away from home ; they put xne in mind of our national flag, and it is generally allowed to be the first flag in the univarse now. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. It's near about the prettiest sight I know on, is one of our first . 'ass frigates, manned with our free and enlightened citizens, all ready for sea ; it is like the great American Eagle on its perch, balancing itself for a start on the broad expanse of blue sky, afeared of nothin' of its kind, and president of all it surveys. It was a good emblem that we chose, warn't it ? " There was no evading so direct and at the same time so con- ceited an appeal as this. " Certainly," said I, " the emblem was well chosen. I was particularly struck with it on observing the device on your naval buttons during the last war — an eagle with an anchor in its claws. That was a natural idea, taken from ordinary occurrence : a bird purloining the anchor of a frigate— an article so useful and necessary for the food of its young. It was well chosen, and exhibited great taste and judgment in the ** -"' . 'J:y »*.- THE AMERICAN EAGLE 35 artist. The emblem is more appropriate than you are aware of— boasting of what you cannot perform, grasping at what you cannot attain — an emblem of arrogance and weakness, of ill-directed ambition and vulgar pretensions." " It is a common phrase," said he (with great composure), *• among seamen to say 'damn your buttons, and I guess it's natural for you to say so of the buttons of our navals ; I guess you have a right to that 'are oath. It is a sore subject that, I reckon, and I believe I hadn't ought to have spoken of it to you at all. Brag is a good dog, but rioldfast is a better one." He was evidently annoyed, and with his usual dexterity gave vent to his feelings by a sally upon the blue-noses, who, he says, are a cross of English and Yankee, and therefore first cousins to us both. "Perhaps," said he, "that 'are eagle might with more propriety have been taken off as perched on an anchor, instead ot holding it in its claws, and I think it would have been more nateral ; but I suppose it was some stupid foreign artist that made that 'are blunder — I never seed one yet that was equal to our'n. If that eagle is represented as tryin' what he can't do^ it's an honourable ambition arter all, but tnese blue-noses won't try what they can do. They put me in mind ofa great big hulk of a horse in a cart, that won't put his shoulder to the collar at all for all the lambastin' in the world, but turns his head round and looks at you, as much to say, ' What an everlasting heavy thing an empty cart is, isn't it ?' An owl should be their emblem^ and the tnotto^ * He sleeps all the days of his life.' The whole country is like this night ; beautiful to look at, but silent as the grave — still as death, asleep, becalmed. " If the sea was always calm," said he, "it would pyson the univatse ; no soul could breathe the air, it would be so uncommon bad. Stai^nant water is always onpleasant, but salt water, when it gets tainted, beats all natur' ; motion keeps it sweet and whole- some, and that our minister used to say is one of the * wonders of the great deep.' This Province is stagnant ; it an't deep, hke still water neither, for its shaller enough, gracious knows, but it's motionless, noiseless, lifeless. If you have ever been to sea in a calm, you'd know what a plaguy tiresome thing it is for a man that's in a hurry. An everlasting flappin' of the sails, and a crackin' of the booms, and an onsteady pitchin' of the ship, and folks lyin about dozin' away their time, and the sea a-heavin' a long, heavy swell, like the breathin* of the chest of some great monster asleep. A passenger wonders the sailors are so plaguy easy about it, and he goes a-lookin' out east, and a-spyin' out west, to see if there is any chance ofa breeze, and says to himself, 'Well, if this ain't dull music it's a pity. Then how streaked he feels when he sees a steam-boat a-clippin' it by him like mad, and the folks on board pokin' fun at him, and askin' him if he has any word to send home. 'Well,' he says, ' if any scul ever catches me on board a sail vessel again, when \m /a 36 THE CLOCKMAKER I can go by steam, I'll give him leave to tell me of it, that's a fact.' "That's partly the case here. They are becalmed, and they see us a-goin' ahead on them, till we are een a'most out of sight ; yet they han't got a steam-boat, and they han't got a railroad ; indeed, I doubt if one half on 'em ever seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of 'em. 1 never see'd any folks like 'em except the Indgians, and they won't even so much as look— they haven't the least morsel of curiosity in the world ; from which one of our Unitarian preachers (they are dreadful hands at doubting them. I don't doubt but that some day or another they will doubt whether everything ain't a doubt\ in a very lamed work, doubts whether they were ever descended from Eve at all. Old marm Eve's children, he says, are all lost, it is said, in consequence of too 7nuch curiosity, while the copper-coloured folks are lost from havin' too little. How can they be the same.? Thinks I, that may be logic, old Dubersome, but it ain't sense ; don't extremes meet ? Now these blue-noses have no motion in 'em, no enter- prise, no spirit, and if any critter shows any symptoms of activity, they say he is a man of no judgment, he's speculative, he's a schemer ; in short, he's mad. They vegitate like a lettuce plant in a sarse garden ; they grow tall and spindlin', run to seed right off, grow as bitter as gall, and die. " A gal once came to our minister to hire as a house help. Says she ' Minister, I suppose you don't want a young lady to do chamber business and breed worms, do you ? For I've half a mind to take a spell at living out.' (She meant," said the Clock- maker, "house work and rearing silk worms.) * My pretty maiden,' says he, a-pattin' her on the cheek (fore I've often obsarved old men always talk kinder pleasant to young women), 'my pretty maiden, where was you brought up ? ' ' Why,' says she, ' I guess I warn't brought up at all, I grow'd up.' * Under what platform?' says he (for he was very particular that all his house helps should i,o to his meetin'), 'under what Church platform?' 'Church plat- form,' says she, with a toss of her head like a young colt that's got a check of the curb, ' I guess I warn't raised under a platform at all, but in as good a house as your'n, grand as you be.' ' You said well,' said the old minister, quite shocked, 'when you Said you grow'd up, dear, for you have grow'd up in great ignorance.' ' Then I guess you had better get a lady that knows more than me,' says she, ' that's flat. I reckon I am every bit and grain as good as you be. If I don't understand a bum-byx (silk-worm^, both feedin', breedin', and rearin', then I want to know who does, that's all ; church platform, indeed,' says she, ' I guess you were raised under a glass frame in March, and transplanted on In- dependence day, warn't you?' And off she sot, looking as scorney as a London lady, and leavin' the poor minister standin' starin' like A stuck pig. 'Well, well,' says he, a-liftin' up both hands, and s. THE AMERICAN EAGLE 37 tumin' up the whites of his eyes like a duck in thunder, 'if that don't bang the bush 1 It fairly beats sheep shearin', after the blackberry bushes have got the wool ; it does, 1 vow. Them are the tares them Unitarians sow in our grain fields at night ; I guess they'll ruinate the crops yet, and make the ground so everlastin' foul, we'll have to pare the sod and burn it, to kill the root. Our fathers sowed the right seed here in the wilderness, and watered it with their tears, and watched over it with fast in' and prayer, and now it's fairly run out, that's a fact, I snore. It's got chocked up with all sorts of trash in natur', I declare. Dear, dear, I vow I never see'd the beat o' that in all my born days.' " Now the blue-noses are like that 'are gal ; they have groVd up, and grow'd up in ignorance of many things they hadn't ought not to know ; and it's as hard to teach grown-up folks as it is to break a six-year-old horse ; and they do ryle one's temper so — that act so ugly that it tempts one 'jometimes to break their con- founded necks — it's near about as much trouble as it's worth." "What remedy is there for all this supineness ?" said I ; "how can these people be awakened out of their ignorant slothfulness into active exertion ? " " The remedy," said Mr. Slick, " is at hand — it's already workin' its own cure. They must recede before our fiee and enlightened citizens like the Indgians ; our folks will buy them out, and they must give place to a more intelligent and ac-/zV^, Lord, Missus,' if they didn't let go, it's a pity. They made the river ring agin— they were heerd clean out to sea. All the folks ran out of the lady's house to see what on airth was the matter on Uncle Enoch's plantation— they thought there was actilly a rebellion there ; but when they listened awhile, and heerd it over and over again, they took the hin^, and returned, a-larfin' in their sleeves. Says they : ' Master Enoch Slick, he THE CLOCKMAKER'S OPINION OF HALIFAX 39 upsides with Missus this hitch anyhow.' Uncle never heerd anything more of '"Oh^ Lord^ Missus^ arter that. Yes, they ought to be shamed out of it, those bhie-noses. When reason fails to con- ^nce, there is nothin' left but ridicule. If they have no ambition, apply to their feelings, clap a blister on their pride, and it will do the business. It's like a-puttin' ginger under a horse's tail ; it makes him carry up raal hand^ww, I tell you. When I was a boy, I was always late to school ; well, father's preachin' I didn't mind much, but I never could bear to hear mother say : * Why, Sam, are you actilly up for all day ? Well, I hope your airly risin* won't hurt you, I declare ! What on airth is a-goin' to happen now ? Well, wonders will never cease ! ' It raised my dander ; at last says I : * Now, mother, don't say that 'are any more, for gracious sake, for it makes me feel ugly ; and I'll get up as airly as any on you ; ' and so I did, and I soon found what's worth knowin' in this life : /^» airly start makes easy stages?' CHAPTER XIII THE CLOCKMAKER'S OPINION OF HALIFAX T; r "xt morning was warmer than several that had preceded it. '> one cf those uncommonly fine days that distinguish an Aaierican autumn. "I guess," said Mr. Slick, "the heat to-day is like a glass of mint julip, with a lump of ice in it, it tastes cool, and feels warm — it's raal good, I tell you ; I love such a day as this dearly. It's generally allowed the finest weather in the world is in America — there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere." He then lighted a cigar, and throwing himself back on his chair, put both feet out of the window, and sat with his arms folded, a perfect picture of happiness. "You appear," said I, "to have travelled over the whole of this Province, and to have observed the country and the people with much attention ; pray, what is your opinion of the present state and future prospects of Halifax ? " ** If you will tell me," said he, " when the folks there will wake up, then I can answer you, but they are fast asleep ; as to the Province, it's a splendid Province, and calculated to go ahead ; it will grow as fast as a Varginy gall, and they grow so amazin' fast, if you put your arm round one of their necks to kiss them, by the time you're done they've grow'd up into women. It's a pretty Province, I tell you, good above and better below ; surface covered with pastures, meadows, woods, and a nation sight of water privileges, and under the ground full of mines — it put me in mind of the soup at 7>Y^-mont House." *' One day I was walkin' in the Mall, and who should I meet but Major Bradford, a gentleman from Connecticut, that traded !' << i H in m\ 1 40 THE CLOCKMAKER in calves and punkins for the Boston market. Says he : * Slick, where do you get your grub to-day?' 'At General Peep's tavern,' says I. ' Only fit for niggers,' says he ; ' why don't you come to the 7>r^-mont House, that's the most splendid thin^, it's generally allowed, in all the world.' ' Why,' says I, * that's a notch above my mark, I guess it's too plaguy dear for me ; I can't afford it nohow.' ' Well,' sp.ys he, *it's dear in one sense, "Hpifct- it's dog cheap in another — it's a grand place for spekelation — there's so many rich Southerners and strangers there that have more money than wit, that you mii,^ht do a pretty good business there without goin' out at the street door. I made two hundred dollars this mornin' in little less than half no time. There's a Carolina lawyer there, as rich as a bank, and says he to me arter breakfast : ' Major,' says he, * I wish I knew where to get a raal slapping trotter of a horse, one that could trot with a flash of lightnin' for a mile, and beat it by a whole neck or so.' Says I : *My lord (for you must know, he says he's the nearest male heir to a Scotch dormant peerage), my lord,' says I, * I have one a proper sneezer, a chap that can go ahead of a railroad steamer, a raal nateral traveller, one that can trot with the ball out of the small eend of a rifle, and never break into a gallop.' Says he : ' Major, I wish you wouldn't give me that 'are nick-name, I don't like it ' (though he looked as tickled all the time as pcssible). * I never knew,' says he, ' a lord that worn't a fool, that's a fact, and that's the reason I don't go ahead and claim the title.' * Well,' says I, ' my lord, I don't know, but somehow I can't help a-thinkin', if you have a good claim, you'd be more like a fool not to go ahead with it.' 'Well,' says he, 'lord or no lord, let's look at your horse.' So away I went to Joe Brown's livery stable, at t'other eend of the city, and picked out the best trotter he had, and no great stick to brag on neither. Says I : * Joe Brown, what do you ax for that 'are horse?' ' Two hundred dollars,' says he. 'Well,' says I, ' I will take him out and try him, and if I like him, I will keep him.' So I shows our Carolina lord the horse, and when he gets on him, says I, ' Don't let him trot as fast as he can, resarve that for a heat. If folks find out how everlastin' fast he is, they'd be afeard to stump you for a start.' When he returned, he said he liked the horse amazin'ly, and axed the price. ' Four hundred dollars,' says I ; ' you can't get nothin' special without a good price, pewter cases never hold good watches.' ' I know it,' says he, ' the horse is mine.' Thinks I to myself, • That's more than ever I could say of him then, anyhow.' " ' Well, I was going to tell you about the soup,' says the Major. * It's near about dinner-time, jist come and see how you like the location.' There was a sight of folks there, gentlemen and ladies in the public room (I never see'd so many afore, except at com- mencement day), all ready for a start, and when the gong sounded, off we sot like a flock of sheep. Well, if there warn't a jam you -=;<: J ti. -^. > ^ses is of lor. jhe lies |m- Jd, lou THE CLOCKMAKER'S OPINION OF HALIFAX 4I may depend — someone gave me a pull, and I near about went heels up over head, so I reached out both hands, and caught hold of the first thing I could, and what should it be but a lady's dress — we.'I, as I'm alive, rip went the frock, and tear goes the petticoat, and when I righted myself from my beam ends, away they all came home to me, and there she was, the pretty critter, with all her upper riggin' standin' as far as her waist, and nothin' left below but a short linen under garment. If she didn't scream, it's a pity, and the more she screamed, the more folks larfed, for no soul could help larfin', till one of the waiters folded her up in a table-cloth. " ' What an awkward devil you be. Slick,' says the Major ; * now that comes of not fallin' in first ; they should have formed four deep, rear rank in open order, and marched in to our splendid national air, and filed off, to their seats, right and left, shoulders forward. I feel kinder sorry, too,' says he, ' for that 'are young heifer, but she showed a proper pretty leg, tho', Slick, didn't she ? I guess you don't often get such a chance as that 'are.' Well, I gets near the Major at table, and afore me stood a china utensil with two handles, full of soup, about the size of a foot tub, with a large silver sco'^p in it, near about as big as the ladle of a maple sugar kettle. I was jist about baling out some soup into my dish, when the Major said, * Fish it up from the bottom. Slick.' Well, sure enough, I gives it a drag from the bottom, and up came the fat pieces of turtle and the thick, rich soup, and a sight of little forced meat balls of the size of sheep's dung. No soul could tell how good it was. It was near about as handj«w as father's old genuine particular cider, and that you could feel tingle clean away down to the eends of your toes. ' Now,' says the Major, ' I'll give you, Slick, a new wrinkle on your horn. Folki. am't thought nothin' of unless they live at Treemont : it's all the go. Do you dine at Peep's tavern every day, and then off hot foot to Treemont, and pick your teeth on the street steps there, and folks will think you dine there. I do it often, and it saves two dollars a day.' Then he puts his finger on his nose, and says he, ' Mum is the word.^ " Now, this Province is jist like that 'are soup— good enough at top, but dip down and you have the riches, the coal, the iron ore, the gypsum, and what not. As for Halifax, it's well enou'^h in itself, though no great shakes neither — a few sizeable houses with a proper sight of small ones, like half-a-dozen old hens with their broods of young chickens ; but the people, the strange critters, the^ are all asleep. They walk in their sleep, and talk in their sleep ; and what they say one day they forget the next — they say they were dreamin'. You know where Governor Campbell lives, don't you? In a large stone house, with a great wall round it, that looks like a State prison. Well, near hand there is a nasty, dirty, horrid-lookin' buryin'-ground there. It's filled with large grave- rats as big as kittens, and the springs of black water there go il ?^ ^ i I 42 THE CLOCKMAKER through the chinks of the rocks and flow into all the wells, and fairly pyson the folks. It's a dismal place, I tell you. I wonder the air from it don't turn all the silver in the Gineral's house of a brass colour (and folks say he has four cart loads of it), it's so everlasting bad ; it's near about as nosey as a slave ship of niggers. Well, you may go there and shake the folks to all etarnity, and you won't wake 'em, I guess ; and yet there ain't much difference atween their sleep and the folks at Halifax, only they lie still there and are quiet, and don't walk and talk in their sleep like them above ground. " Halifax reminds me of a Russian officer I once see'd to Warsaw. He had lost both arms in battle. But I guess I must tell you first why I went there, 'cause that will show you how we spekelate. One Sabbath day, arter bell-ringin's, when most of the women hadxgone to meetin' (for they were <,freat hands for pretty sarmons, and our Unitarian ministers all preach poetry, only they leave the rhyme out — it sparkles like perry), I goes down at East India Wharf to see Captain Zeek Hancock, of Nantucket, to inquire how oil was, and if it would bear doin' anything in, when who should come along but Jabish Green. * Slick,' says he, ' how do you do ? Isn't this as pretty a day as you'll see between this and Norfolk ? It whips English weather by a long chalk,' and then he looked down at my watch-seals, and looked and looked as if he thought I'd stole 'em. At last he looks up, and says he : * Slick, I suppose you wouldn't go to Warsaw, would you, if it was made worth your while?* * Which Warsaw?' says I, for I believe in my heart we have a hundred of 'em. ' None of ourn at all,' says he ; * Warsaw in Poland.' ' Well, I don't know,' says I. ' What do you call worth while ?' * Six dollars a day, expenses paid, and a bonus of one thousand dollars, if spekelation turns out well.' ' I am off,' says I, * whenever you say go.' ' Tuesday,' says he ; * in the Ham- burg Packet. Now,' says he, * I'm in a tarnation hurry. I'm going a-pleasurin' to-day in the Custom House boat, along with Josiah Bradford's gals, down to Nahant. But I'll tell you what I am at : the Emperor of Russia has ordered the Poles to cut off their queues on the 1st of January ; you must buy them all up, and ship them off to London for the wig-makers. Human hair is scarce and risin*.' 'Lord a-massey!' says I; 'how queer they will look, won't they ? Well, I vow, that's what the sea-folks call sailin' under bare Poles.^ ' Come true, ain't it ? I guess it will turn out a good spec,' says he. And a good one it did turn out. He cleared' ten thousand dollars by it. "When I was to Warsaw, as I was a-sayin', there was a Russian officer there who had lost both his arms in battle, a good-natured, contented critter as I e'en a'most ever see'd, and he was fed with spoons by his neighbours, but arter a while they grew tired of it, and I guess he near about starved to death at last. Now, Halifax is like that 'are Spooney^ as I used to call THE CLOCKMAKER'S OPINION OF HALIFAX 43 him ; it is fed by the outports, and they begin to have enough to do to feed themselves ; it must lam to live without 'em. They have no river and no country about them. Let them make a .aihoad to Minas Basin, and they will have arms of their town to feed themselves with. If they don't do it, and do it soon, I guess they'll get into a decline that no human skill will cure. They are proper thin now ; you can count their ribs e'en a'most as far as you can see them. The only thine; that will either make or save Halifax is a railroad across the country to Bay of Fundy. " ' It will do to talk of,' says one. ' You'll see it, some day,' says another. ' Yes,' says a third, ' it will come, but we are too young yet.' " Our old minister had a darter, a raal clever-looking gal as you'd see in a day's ride ; and she had two or three offers oi marriage from 'sponsible men — most particular good specs — but minister always said, ' Phebe, you are too youn«; — the day will come — but you are too young yet, dear.' Well, Phebe didn't think so at all. She said she guessed she knew better nor that. So the next offer she had — she said she had no notion to lose another chance — off she sot to Rhode Island and got. married. Says she : ' Father's too old ; he don't know.' That's jist the case to Halifax. The old folks say the country is too young, the time will come, and so on ; and in the meantime the young folks won't wait, and run off" to the States^ ivhere the maxim is^ ' Youth is the time for improvement. A new country is never too young for exertion. Push on. Keep movin\ Go ahead. ^ " ' Darn it all ! ' said the Clockmaker, rising with great anima- tion, clinching his fist, and extending his arm — ' darn it all ! it fairly makes my dander rise to see the nasty, idle, loungin', good- for-nothing, do-little critters. They ain't fit to tend a bear-trap, I vow. They ought to be quilted round and round a room, like a lady's lap-dog, the matter of two hours a day, to keep them from dyin' of apoplexy.' ' Hush, hush I ' said I. ' Mr. Slick, you forget.' ' Well,' said he, resuming his usual composure, ' well, it's enough to make one vexed, though, I declare, isn't it ?'" Mr. Slick has often alluded to this subject, and always in a most decided manner. I am inclined to think he is right. Mr. Howe's papers on the railroad I read till I came to his calculations, but I never could read figures. " I can't cypher," and there I paused. It was a barrier. I retreated a few paces, took a running !eap, and cleared the whole of them. Mr. Slick says he has under- and not <7t/^r-rated its advantages. He appears to be such a shrewd, observing, intelligent man, and so perfectly at home on these sub- jects, that I confess I have more faith in this humble bur eccentric Clockmaker than in any other man I have met with in this Province. I therefore pronounce " there will be a railroad.^^ 1 V. i;\ €1 81 It' •■_,_' 44 . THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XIV SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN CUMBERLAND ** 1 RECKON," said the Clockmaker, as we strolled through Amherst, "you have read Hook's story of the boy that one day axed one ol his father's guests who his next-door neighbour was ; and when he heerd his name, asked him if he warn't a fool. ' No, my little feller,' he said, 'he beant a fool ; he is a most particular, sensible man. But why did you ax that 'are question ? 'Why,' said the little boy, * mother said t'other day you ware next door to a fool, and I wanted to know who lived next door to you.' His mother felt pretty ugly, I guess, when she heered him run right slap on that 'are breaker. " Now, these Cumberland folks have curious next-door neigh- bours too. They are placed by their location right atwixt fire and water. They have New Brunswick politics on one side, and Nova Scotia politics on t'other side of 'em, and Bay Fundy and Bay Varte on t'other two sides. They are actilly in hot water. They are up to their croopers in politics, and great hands for talkin' of House of Assembly, political unions, and what not. Like all folks who wade so deep, they can't always tell the natur' of the ford. Sometimes they strike their shins agin a snag of a rock ; at other times they go whap into a quicksand ; and if they don't take special care they are apt to go souse over head and ears into deep water. I guess if they'd talk more of Ratations and less of elec- tions^ more of them are Dykes and less of Banks., and attend more to top-dressing and less to re-dressing.^ it 'ed be better for 'em." " Now you mention the subject, I think I have observed," said I, "that there is a great change in your countrymen in that respect. Formerly, whenever you met an American, you had a dish of politics set before you, whether you had an appetite for it or not ; but lately I have remarked they seldom allude to it. Pray, to what is this attributable ? " "I guess," said he, " they have enough of it at hom3, and are sick of the subject. They are cured the way our pastry-cooks cure their 'prentices stealing sweet notions out of their shops. When they get .a new 'prentice, they tell him he must never so much as look at all them 'are nice things ; and if he dares to lay the weight of his finger upon one of them, they'll have him up for it before a Justice ; they tell him it's every bit and grain as bad as stealing from a till. Well, that's sure to set him at it, just as a nigh fence does a breachy ox, first to look over it, and then to push it down with its rump. It's human natur'. Well, the boy eats and eats till he can't eat no longer, and then he gets sick at his stomach, and hates the very sight of sweetmeats arterwards. We've had politics with us till we're dog-sick of 'em, I tell you. cr SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN CUMBERLAND 4S you. Besides, I guess we are as far from perfection as when we set out a roin' for it. You may get purity of eleciion, but how are you to gti purity of members f It would take a great deal of cyphcrin' to tell that. I never see'd it yet, and never heerd tell of one who had see'd it. " The best member I e'en almost ever see'd was John Adams. Well, John Adams could no more plough a straight furrow in politics than he could haul the plough himself. He might set out straight at beginnin' for a little way, but he was sure to get crooked afore he got to the eend of the ridge — and sometimes he would have two or three crooks in it. I used to say to him, 'How on airth is it, Mr. Adams' (for he was no way proud-like, though he was president of our great nation — and it is allowed to be the greatest nation in the world, too — for you might see him sometimes of an afternoon a-swimmin' along with the boys in the Potomac ; I do believe that's the way he larned to give the folks the dodge so spry) — well, I used to say to him, * How on airth is it, Mr. Adams, you can't make straight work on it ? ' He was a grand hand at an excuse (though minister used to say that folks that were good at an excuse were seldom good for nothin' else). Sometimes he said the ground was so tarnation stony, it throwed the plough out ; at other times he said the off-ox was such an ugly, wilful-tempered critter, there was no doin' nothin' with him ; or that there was so much machinery about the plough, it made it plaguy hard to steer ; or maybe it was the fault of them that went afore him, that they laid it down so bad. Unless he was hired for another term of four years, the work wouldn't look well. And if all them 'are excuses wouldn't do, why, he would take to scoldin' the nigger that drove the team, throw all the blame on him, and order him to have ever- lastin' lacin' with the cowskin. You might as well catch a weasel asleep as catch him. He had somethiii' the matter with one eye — well, he knew I know'd that when I was a boy. So one day a feller presented a petition to him, and he told him it was very afifectin'. Says he, ' It fairly draws tears from me,' and his weak eye took to lettin' off its water like statiee. So as soon as the chap went, he winks to me with t'other one, quite knowin', as much as to say, * You see it's all in my eye^ Slick ; but don't let on to anyone about it that I said so.' The eye was a regular cheat, a complete New England wooden nutmeg. Folks said Mr. Adams was a very tender-hearted man. Perhaps he was ; but I guess that eye didn't pump its water out o' that place. "Members in general ain't to be depended on, I tell you. Politics makes a man as crooked as a pack does a pedlar ; not that they are so awful heavy neither, but it teaches a man to stoop in the long run. Arter all, there's not that difference in 'em (at least, there ain't in Congress), one would think ; for if one of them is clear of one vice, why, as like as not, he has another fault just as bad. An honest farmer, like one of these Cumberland folks, when /, 46 THE CLOCKMAKER he goes to choose a'twixt two that oflfers for votes, is jist like the flyin' fish. That 'are little critter is not content to stay at home in the water, and mind its business, but he must try his hand at flyin' ; and he is no great dab at flyin' neither. Well, the moment he's out of water, and takes to flyin', the sea fowl are arter him, and let him have it ; and if he has the good luck to escape them, and dive into the sea, the dolphin, as like as not, has a dig at him that knocks more wind out of him than he got while aping the birds, a plaguy sight. I guess the blue-noses know jist about as much about politics as this foolish fish knows about flyin'. All critters in natur' are better in their own element. " It beats cock-fightin', I tell you, to hear the blue-noses, when they get together, talk politics. They have got three or four evil spirits, like the Irish Banshees, that they say cause all the mischief in the Province — the Council, the Banks, the House of Assembly, and the Lawyers. If a man places a higher valiation on himself than his neighbours do, and wants to be a magistrate before he is fit to carry the ink-horn for one, and finds himself safely delivered of a mistake, he says it's all owin' to the Council. The members are cunnin' critters, too ; they know this feelin'. And when they come home from Assembly, and people ax 'em, * Where are them 'are fine things you promised us ? ' why, they say, * We'd 'a had 'em all for you, but for that etarnal Council ; they nullified all we did.' The country will come to no good till them chaps show their respect for it, by coverin' uheir bottoms with homespun. If a man is so tarnation lazy he won't work, and, in course, has no money, why, he says it's all owin' to the banks ; they won't discount ; there's no money ; they've ruined the Province. If there beant a road made up to every citizen's door, away back to the woods (who, as like as not, has squatted there), why, he says the House of Assembly have voted all the money to pay great men's salaries, and there's nothin' left for poor settlers and cross roads. Well, the lawyers come in for their share of cake and ale, too ; if they don't catch it, it's a pity. " There was one Jim Munroe, of Onion County, Connecticut, a desperate idle fellow, a great hand at singin' songs, a-skatin', drivin' about with the gals, and so on. Well, if anybod/s windows were broke, it was Jim Munroe ; and if there were any youngsters in want of a father, they were sure to be poor Jim's. Jist so it is with the lawyers here ; they stand godfathers for every misfortune that happens in the country. When there is a mad dog a-goin' about, every dog that barks is said to be bit by the mad one, so he gets credit for all the mischief that every dog does for three months to come. So every feller that goes yelpin' home from a court-house, smarting from the law, swears he is bit by a lawyer. Now, there may be somethin' wrong in all these things (and it can't be otherwise in natur'), in Council, Banks, House of Assembly, and Lawyers ; but change them all, and it's an even THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD 4; chnnce if you don't get worse ones in their room. It is in politics as in horses : when a man has a beast that's ne ir about up to the notch, he'd better not swap him ; if he does, he's e'en a'mobt sure to get one not so good as his own. My rule is^ Vd rather keep a critter whose faults I do knew, than change him for a beast whose faults I don't kfww." CHAPTER XV THE DANCING MASTER ADROAD ** I WISH that 'are black heifer in the kitchen would give over singin' that 'are everlastin' dismal tune," said the Clockmaker ; "it makes my head ache. You've heerd a song afore now," said he, " haven't you, till you was fairly sick of it ? For I have, I vow. The last time I was in Rhode Island (all the gals sing there, and it's generally allowed there's no such singers anywhere ; thcv beat the Aj^talians a long chalk — they sing so high some on 'em, they go clear out o' hearin' sometimes, like a lark), well, you heerd nothin' but, ' Oh, no, we never mention her ! ' Well, I grew so plaguy tired of it, I used to say to myself, * I'd sooner see it than heer tell of it, I vow. I wish to gracious' sake you " would never mention her," for it makes me feel ugly to hear that same thing for ever and ever and amen that way.' Well, they've got a cant phrase here, * The schoolmaster is abroad,' and every feller tells you that fifty times a day. " There was a chap said to me not long ago at Truro : * Mr. Slick, this country is rapidly improving — "the schoolmaster is abroad now," ' and he looked as knowing as though he had found a mare's nest. * So I should think,' said I ; 'and it would jist be about as well, I guess, if he'd stay at home and mind his busi- ness, for your folks are so consoomedly ignorant, I reckon he's abroad e'en a'most all his time. I hope when he returns he'll be the better of his travels ; and that's more nor many of our young folks are who go "abroad," for they import more airs and nonsense than they dispose of one while, I tell you ; some of the stock remains on hand all the rest of their lives.' There's nothin' I hate so much as cant, ©f all kinds ; it's a sure sign of a tricky disposi- tion. If you see a feller cant in religion, clap your hand in your pocket, and lay right hold of your puss, or he'll steal it, as sure as you're alive ; and if a man cant in politics, he'll sell you, if he gets a chance, you may depend. Law and physic are jist the same, and every mite and morsel as bad. If a lawyer takes to cantin', it's like the fox preachin' to the geese : he'll eat up his whole congre- gation ; and if a doctor takes to it, he's a quack as sure as he rates. The Lord have massy on you 1 for he won't. I'd sooner trust my 48 THE CLOCKMAKER chance with a naked hook at any time, than one that's half covered with bad bait. Tlie fish will sometimes swaller the one without thinkin'i but they ^^et frightened at t'other, turn tail, and off like a shot. " Now, to change the tune, I'll ^ive the blue-noses a new phrase. They'll have an election most likely next year, and then ' the dancin* master will be abroad.' A candidate is a most partikilar polite man, a-noddin' here, and a-bowin' there, and a-shakm' hands all round. Nothin' improves a man's manners like an election. * The danciti rnaster^s abroad then* Nothin* ^jivcs the paces equal to that ; it makes them as squirmy as an eel. They cross hands and back a^in, set to their partners, and right and left in great style, and slick it off at the eend, with a raal complete bow, and a smile for all the world as sweet as a cat makes at a pan of new milk. Then they get as full of compliments as a dog is full of fleas — inquirin' how the old lady is at home, and the little boy that made such a wonderful smart answer, they never can forget it till next time ; a-praisin' a man's farm to the nines, and a-tellin' of him how scandalous the road that leads to his location has been neglected, and how much he wants to find a raal complete hand that can build a bridge over his brook, and axin' him if he ever built one. When he gets the hook baited with the right fly, and the simple critter begins to jump out of water arter it, all mouth and gills, he winds up the reel, and takes leave, a-thinkin' to him< self, ' Now, you see what's at the eend of my line. I guess I'll know where to find you when I want you.' " There's no sort of fishin' requires so much practice as this. When bait is scarce, one worm must answer for several fish. A handful of oats in a pan, arter it brings one horse up in a pastur* for the bridle, serves for another ; a-shakin' of it is better than a-givin' of it— it saves the grain for another time. It's a poor busi- ness, arter all, is electioneering ; and when ' the dancin* master is abroad^' he's as apt to teach a man to cut capers and get larfed at as anything else. It an't every one that's soople enough to dance raal complete. Politics take a great deal of time, and grind away a man's honesty near about as fast as cleanin' a knife with bripk- dust ; ' // takes its steel out! What does a critter get, arter all, for it in this country ? Why, nothin' but expense and disappoint- ment. As King Solomon says (and that 'are man was up to a thing or two, you may depend, tho' our Professor did say he warn't so knowin' as Uncle Sam), ' It's all vanity and vexation of spirit. " I raised a four-year-old colt once, half-blood, a perfect pictur* of a horse, and a genu/«^ clipper ; could gallop like the wind ; a raal daisy ; a perfect doll ; had an eye like a weasel, and nostril like Commodore Rodger's speakin' trumpet. Well, I took it down to the races to New York, and father he went along with me ; for says he : ' Sam, you don't know everything, I guess ; you han't THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD 49 cut your wisdom-teeth yet, and you are goin* among them that't had 'em through their gums this while past.' Well, when he gets to the races, father he gets colt, and puts him in an old vvag^'on, with a worn-out Dutch harness and breast-band— he looked like Old Nick ; that's a fact— then he fastened a head martinyale on,, and buckled it to the girths atwixt his fore legs. Says I, ' Father, what on airth are you at ? I vow I feel ashamed to be seen with such a catamaran as that, and colt looks like Saytan himself— no soul would know him.' ' I guess I warn't born yesterday,' says he. ' Let me be ; I know what I am at. I guess I'll slip it into 'em afore I've done, as slick as a whistle. I guess I can see as far into a mill-stone as the best on 'em.' " Well, father never entered the horse at all, but stood by and see'd the races ; and the winnin' horse was follcred about by the matter of two or three thousand people, a-praisin' of him and admirin' him. They seemed as if they had never see'd a horse afore. The owner of him was all up on eend a-boastin' of him, and a-stumpin' the course to produce a horse to run again' him for four hundred dollars. Father goes up to him, looking as soft as dough, and as meechin' as you please, and says he, ' Friend, it an't everyone that has four hundred dollars ; it's a plaguy sight of money, I tell you. Would you run for one hundred dollars, and give me a little start ? If you would, I'd try my colt out of my old wag};:on agin' you, I vow.' ' Let's look at your horse,' says he. So away they went, and a proper sight of people arter them, to look at the colt ; and when they see'd him, they sot up such a larf I felt e'en a'most ready to cry for spite. Says I to myself, ' What can possess the old man to act arter that fashion ? I do believe he has taken leave of his senses.' * You needn't larf,' says father ; 'he's smarter than he looks. Our minister's old horse. Captain Jack, is reckoned as quick a beast of his age as any in our loca- tion, and that 'are colt can beat him for a lick of a quarter of a mile quite easy ; I see'd it myself.' Well, they larfed again louder than before ; and says father, * If you dispute my word, try me. What odds will you give ? ' * Two to one,' says the owner ; * eight hundred to four hundred dollars.' ' Well, that's a great deal of money, ain't it ? ' says father. ' If I was to lose it, I'd look pretty foolish, wouldn't I ? How folks would pass their jokes at me when I went home again ! You wouldn't take that 'are waggon and harness for fifty dollars of it, would you?' says he. 'Well,' says the other, 'sooner than disappoint you, as you seem to have set your mind on losing your money, I don't care if I do.' " As soon as it was settled, father drives off to the stables, and then returns mounted, with a red silk pocket handkerchief tied round his head, and colt a-looking like himself, as proud as a nabob, chock full of spring like the wire eend of a Dran'-new pair of trouser gullusses. One said, 'That's a plaguy nice-lookin' colt that old feller has, arter all.' ' That horse will show play for it yet,' '■%,>■■■ 50 THE CLOCKMAKER says a third. And I heerd one feller say, * I guess that's a rigulai Yankee trick — a complete take-in.' They had a fair start for il, and off they sot. Father took the lead, and kept it, and won the race, tho' it was a pretty tight scratch, for father was too old to ride colt ; he was near about the matter of seventy years old. " Well, when the colt was walked round after the race, there was an amazin' crowd arter him, and several wanted to buy him ; but says father, * How am I to get home without him, and what shall I do with that 'are waggon and harness, so far as I be from Slick- ville ? ' So he kept them in talk till he felt their pulses pretty well, and at last he closed with a Southener for seven hundred dollars ; and we returned, havin' made a considerable good spec of colt. Says father to me, ' Sam,' says he, ' you see'd the crowd a-foUerin' of the winnin' horse when we came here, didn't you ? ' ' Yes, sir,' said I, ' I did.' * Well, when colt beat him no one follered him at all, but come a-crowdin' about him. That's popularity,' said he ; * soon won, soon lost ; cried up sky-high one minute, and desarted the next, or run down. Colt will share the same fate. He'll get beat afore long, and then he's done for. The multitude are always fickle-minded. Our great Washington found that out, and the British officer that beat Buonaparte ; the bread they gave him turned sour afore he got half through the loaf; his soap had hardly stiffened afore it ran right back to lye and grease again. "*I was sarved the same way. I liked to have missed my pension. The Committee said I warn't at Bunker's Hill at all — the villains ! That was a Glo — ' (Thinks I, 'Old boy, if you once get into that 'are field, you'll race longer than colt, a plaguy sight : you'll run clear away to the fence to the far eend afore you stop,' so I jist cut in and took a hand myself). * Yes,' says I, 'you did 'em, father, properly. That old waggon was a bright scheme. It led 'em on till you got 'em on the right spot, didn't it ?' Says father : ' Theris a moral, Sam^ in everything in natur*. Never have nothin' to do with elections. You see the valy of popularity in the case of that 'are horse. Sarve the public nine hundred and ninety-nine times, and the thousandth, if they don't agree with you, they desart and abuse you. See how they sarved old John Adams ! Sec how they let JeiTerson starve in his old age 1 See how good old Munroe like to have got right into jail after his term of President was up 1 They may talk of independence,' says father, ' but, Sam, I'll tell you what independence is,' and he gave his hands a slap agin his trousers' pocket, and made the gold eagles he won at the race all jingle again—* Ma/,' says he, a-givin' of them another wipe with his fist (and winkin', as much as to say, * Do you hear that, my boy.-") — ^ that I call independence.^ He was in great spirits, the old man, he was so proud of winnin' the race, and puttin' the leake into the New Yorkers ; he looked all dander. 'Let them great hungry, il! favoured, long-legged bitterns,' says he (only he called them by another name that don't sound quite MR. SLICK'S OPINION OF THE BRITISH 51 pretty), * from the outlandish States to Congress talk about inde- pendence ; but, Sam,' said he, hittin' the shiners again till he made them dance right up on eend in his pocket, ^ I like tofeslit. " ' No, Sam,' said he ; ' line the pocket well first — make that independent, and then the spirit will be like a horse turned out to grass in the spring for the first time : he's all head and tail, a-snortin', and kickin', and racin', and carryin' on like mad ; it soon gets independent too. While it's in the stall, it may hold up, and paw, and whiner, and feel as spry as anything ; but the lerither straps keeps it to the manger, and the lead weight to the eend of it makes it hold down its head at last. No,' says he, 'here's independence,' and he gave the eagles such a drive with his fist, he barst his pocket, and sent a whole raft of them a-spinnin' down his legs to the ground. Says I, 'Father' — (and I swear I could hardly keep from larfin', he looked so peskiiy vexed) — 'father,' says I, ' I ^uess there's a moral in that 'are, too. Extremes nary way none d the best.* 'Well, well,' says he, kinder snappishly, 'I suppose you're half right, Sam. But we've said enough about it ; let's drop the subject, and see if I have picked 'em all up, for my eyes are none of the best now ; I'm near hand to seventy/ " ^on CHAPTER XVI MR. slick's opinion OF THE BRITISH 4 ** What success had you," said I, " in the sale of your clocks among the Scotch in the eastern part of the Province ? Do you find them as gullible as the blue-noses ? " " Well," said he, " you have have heerd tell that a Yankee never answers one question without axing of another, haven't you ? Did you ever see an English stage-driver make a bow? Because, if you han't obsarved it, I have ; and a queer one it is, I swan. He brings his right arm up, jist across his face, and passes on, with a knowin' nod of his head, as much as to say, * How do you do ? but keep clear o' my wheels, or I'll fetch your horses a lick in the mouth as sure as you're born, just as a bear puts up his paw to fend off the blow of a stick from his nose.' Well, that's the way I {>ass them 'are bare-breeched Scotchmen. Lord ! if they were ocated down in these here Cumberland marshes, how the mus- quitoes would tickle them up, wouldn't they? They'd set 'em a-scratchin' thereabouts, as an Irishman does his head when he's in sarch of a lie. Them 'are fellars cut their eye-teeth afore they ever sot foot in this country, I expect. When they get a bawbee, they know what to do with it ; that's a fact. They open their gouch, and drop it in ; and it's got a spring like a fox-trap — it olds fast to all it gets, like grim death to a dead nigger. They II i 5« THE CLOCKMAKER are proper skin-flints, you may depend. Oatmeal is no great shakes at best ; it an't even as good for a horse as real yaller Varginy corn. But I guess I warn't long in findin' out that the grits hardly pay for the riddlin'. No, a Yankee has as little chance among them as a Jew has in England : the sooner he clears out the better. You can no more put a leake into them than you can send a chisel into Teake-wood — it turns the etlge of the tool the first drive. If the blue-noses knew the valy of money as well as they do, they'd have more cash, and fewer clocks and tin reflectors, I reckon. " Now, it's different with the Irish. They never carry a puss, for they never have a cent to put in it. They are always in love or in liquor, or else in a row. They are the merriest shavers I ever see d. Judge Beeler — I daresay you have heerd tell of him ; he's a funny feller. He put a notice over his factory gate to Lowell: * No cigars or Irishmen admitted within these walls'; for, said he, ' the one will set a flame agoin' among my cottons, and t'other among my gals. I won't have no such inflammable and dangerous things about me on no account.' When the British wanted our folks to jine in the treaty to chock the wheels of the slave trade, i xCcoUect hearin' old John Adams say, * We had ought to humour them ; ' for, says he, ' they supply us with labour on easier terms by shippin' out the Irish.' Says he, ' They work better, and they work cheaper, and they don't live so long. The blacks, when they are past work, hang on for ever, and a proper bill of expense they be ; but hot weather and new rum rub out the poor rates for t'othftr ones.' "The English are the boys for tradin' with. They shell out their cash like a sheaf of wheat in frosty weather ; it flies all over the thrashin' floor. But then they are a cross-grained, ungainly, kicken breed of cattle as I e'en a'most ever see'd. Whoever gave them the name of John Bull knew what he was about, I tell you ; for they are bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow ; sulky, ugly- tempered, vicious critters, a-pawin' and a-roarin' the whole time, and plaguy onsafc unless well watched. They are as headstrong as mules, and as conceited as peacocks." The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my countrymen absorbed every feeling of resentment ; I listened with amazement at the perfect co'nposure with which he uttered it. He treated it as one of those self-evident truths that need neither proof nor apology, but as a thing well known and admitted by all mankind. " There's no richer sight that I know on," said he, " than to see one on 'em when he first lands in one of our great cities. He swells out as big as a balloon ; his skin is ready to burst with wind — a regular walking bag of gas ; and he prances over the pavement like a bear over hot iron — a great awkward hulk of a feller (for they ain't to be compared to the French in manners), I my led [red leed Ited I see He ,'ith [the )fa Irs), MR. SLICK'S OPINION OF THE BRITISH $3 a-smirkin' at you, as much as to say, * Look here, Jonathan 1 Here's an Englishman. Here's a boy that's got blood as pure as a Norman pirate, and lots of the blunt of both kinds — a pocketful of one and a mouthful of t'other. Beant he lovely?' And then he looks as fierce as a tiger, as much as to say, ' Say "boo" to a f^oose, if you dare.' " No ; I believe we may stanp the Univarse. We improve on everything, and we have imi^rcved on our own species. You'll search one while, I tell you, afore you'll find a man that, take him by and large, is equal to one of our free and enlightened citizens. He's the chap that has both speed, wind, and bottom ; he's clear grit — ginger to the backbone, you may depend. It's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anywhere ; spry as a fox, supple as an eel, and cute as a weasel. Though I say it that shouldn't say it, they fairly take the shine off creation. They are actilly equal to cash." He looked like a man who felt that he had expressed himself so aptly and so well that anything additional would only weaken its cflfect. He, therefore, changed the conversation immediately by .pointing to a tree at some little distance from the house, and remarking that it was the rock-maple or sugar tree. " It's a pretty tree," said he ; " and a profitable one, too, to raise. It will bear tappin' for many years, tho' it gets exhausted at last. " This Province is like that 'are tree : it is tapped till it begins to die at the top ; and if they don't drive in a spile, and stop tho everlastin' flow of the sap, it will perish altogether. AH the money that's made here, all the interest that's paid in it, and a pretty con- siderable portion of the rent too, all goes abroad for investment, and the rest is sent to us to buy bread. It's drained like a bog ; it has opened and covered trenches all through it ; and then there's others to the foot of the upland to cut off the springs. " Now, you may make even a bog too dry ; you may take the moisture out to that degree that the very sile becomes dust, and blows away. The English funds and our banks, railroads, and canals, are all absorbin' your capital like a spunge, and will lick it up as fast as you can make it. That very bridge we heerd of at Windsor is owned in New Brunswick, and will pay toll to that Erovince. The capitalists of Nova Scotia treat it like a hired ouse ; they won't keep it in repair. They neither paint it to presarve the boards, nor stop a leak to keep the frame from rottin' ; but let it go to rack sooner than drive a nail or put in a pane of glass. * It will sarve our turn out,' they say. " There's neither spirit, enterprise, nor patriotism here ; but the whole country is as inactive as a bear in winter, that does nothin' but scroutch up in his den, a-thmkin' to himself, ' Well, if I ain't a misfortunate devil, it's a pity. I have a most splendid warm coat as 'are a gentleman in these here woods, let him be who he will ; but I got no socks to my feet, and I have to sit for everlastingly m y\ 54 %■■ THE CLOCKMAKER a-suckin' of my paws to keep them warm. If it warri't for that, I gtiess I'd make some o' them chaps that have hoofs to their feet and horns to their heads look about 'em pretty sharp, I know.' It's dismal now, ain't it ? If I had the framin' of the Governor's message, if I wouldn't show 'em how to put timber together, you may depend. I'd make them scratch their heads and stare, I know. " I went down to Matanzas in the Fulton steamboat once — well, it was the first of the kind they ever see'd, and proper scared they were to see a vessel without sails or oars goin' right straight ahead, nine knots an hour, in the very wind's eye, and a great streak of smoke arter her as long as the tail of a comet, I believe they thought it was Old Nick alive, a-treatin' himself to a swim. You could see the niggers a-clippin' it away from the shore for dear life, and the sodgers a-movin' about as if they thought that we was a-goin' for to take the whole country. Presently a little, half- starved, orange-coloured-lookin' Spanish officer, all dressed off in his livery as fine as a fiddle, came off with two men in a boat to board us. Well, we yawed once or twice, and motioned him to keep off for fear he should get hurt ; but he came on right afore the wheel, and I hope maybe shot if the paddle didn't strike^e bow of the boat with that force it knocked up the starn like a plank tilt when one of the boys playing on it is heavier than t'other, and chucked him right a-top of the wheel-house. You never see'd a feller in such a dunderment in your life. He had picked up a little English from seein' our folks there so much, and when he got up, the first thing he said was, ' Damn all sheenery ! I say, where's my boat ?' and he looked round as if he thought it had jumped on board too. * Your boat ? ' said the captain. * Why, I expect it's gone to the bottom, and your men have gone down to look arter it, for we never see'd or heer^ tell of one or t'other of them arter the boat was struck.' Yes, I'd make 'em stare like that 'are Spanish officer as if they had see'd out of their eyes for the first time. Governor Campbell didn't expect to see such a country as this when he came here, I reckon ; I know he didn't. ** When I was a little boy, about knee-hip;h or so, and lived down Connecticut River, mother used to say, ' Sam, if you don't give over actin* so like old Scratch, I'll send you off to Nova Scotia, as sure as you are born, I will, I vow.' Well, Lord, how that used to frighten me ! It made my hair stand right up on eend like a cat's back when she's wrothy. It made me drop as quick as wink — like a tin nightcap put on a dip-candle agoin' to bed, it put the fun right out. Neighbour Dearborn's darter married a gentleman to Yar- mouth that spekilates in the smugglin' line. Well, when she went on board to sail down to Nova Scotia, all her folks took on as if it was a funeral. They said she was a-goin' for to be buried alive, like the nuns in Portengale that get a-frolickin', break out of the pastur*, and race off, and get catched and brought back again. A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE 55 Says the old colonel, her father, * Deliverance, my dear ! I would sooner foller you to your grave, for that would be an eend to your troubles, than to see you go off to that dismal country that's nothing but an iceberg aground,' and he howled as loud as an Irishman that tries to wake his wife when she is dead. Awful accounts we have of the country ! that's a fact. But if the Province is not so bad as they make it out, the folks are a thousand times worse. " You've seen a flock of partridges of a frosty mornin' in the fall a-crowdin' out of the shade to a sunny spot, and huddlin' up there in the warmth ? Well, the blue-noses have no!hin' else to do half the time but sun themselves. Whose fault is that ? Why, it is the fault of the Legislatur'. They dofit encourage internal improvement ^ nor the invtstment of capital in the country; and the result is apathy^ inaction^ and poverty. They spend three months in Halifax, and what do they do ? Father gave me a dollar once to go to the fair at Hartford, and when I came back, says he, *Sam, what have you got to show for it ?' Now I ax what they have got to show for their three months' sittin' ? They mislead folks : they make 'em believe all the use of the Assembly is to bark at councillors, judges, bankers, and such cattle, to keep 'em from eatin' up the crops ; and it actilly costs more to feed them when they are watchin' than all the others could eat if they did break a fence and get in. Indeed, some folks say they are the most breachy of the two, and ought to go to pound themselves. If their fences are good, them hungry cattle couldn't break through ; and if they ain't, they ought to stake 'em up, and withe them well. But ifs no use to make fences unless the land is cultivated. If I see a farm all gone to wrack, I say, ' Here's a bad husbandry and bad management' ; and if I see a Province like this, of great capacity and great nateral resources, poverty- stricken, I say, * There's bad legillation.' " ' No," said he, with an air of more seriousness than I had yet observed ; ' how much it is to be regretted that, laying aside personal attacks and petty jealousies, they would not unite as one man, and with one mind and one heart apply themselves sedulously to the internal improvement and development of this beautiful Province! Its value is utterly unknown, either to the general or local Government, and the only Persons who duly appreciate it are the Yankees' " CHAPTER XVII A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE ** I MET a man this mornin'," said the Clockmaker, " from Halifax ; a raal conceited-lookin' critter as you e'en a'most ever He looked as if he had picked up see'd — all shines and didos. !>■ 56 THE CLOCKMAKER his airs after some officer of the rigilars had worn 'em out and cast 'em off. They sot on him like second-hand clothes, as if they hadn't been made for him, and didn't exactly fit. He looked fine, but awkward, like a captain of militia when he gets his uniform on to play sodger, a-thmkin' himself mighty Y\a.ndsum, and that all the world is a-lookin' at him. He marched up and down afore the street-door like a peacock, as large as life and twice as nateral. He had a ridin'-whip in his hand, and every now and then struck it agin his thigh, as much as to say, 'Ain't that a splendid leg for a boot, now ? Won't I astonish the Amherst folks ; that's all. Thinks I, ' You are a pretty blade, ain't you ? I'd like to fit a Yankee handle on to you ; that's a fact.' When I came up, he held up his head near about as high as a shot factory, and stood with his fists on his hips, and eyed me from head to foot, as a shakin' Quaker does a town lady, as much as to say, ' What a queer critter you be 1 That's toggery I never see'd afore. You're some carnal-minded maiden ; that sartain.* " Well, says he to me, with the air of a man that chucks a cent into a beggar's hat, * A fine day this, sir.' ' Do you actilly think so?' said i, and I gave it the raal Connecticut drawl. *Why,' said he, quite short, * if I didn't think so, I wouldn't say so.' * Well,' says I, * I don't know ; but if I did think so, I guess I wouldn't say so.' * Why not ? ' says he. ' Because I expect,' says I, * any fool could see that as well as me ' ; and then I stared at him, as much as to say, ' Now, if you like that 'are swap, I am ready to trade with you again as soon as you like.' Well, he turned right round on his heel and walked off, a-whistlin' * Yankee Doodie ' to himself. He looked jist like a man that finds whistlin' a plaguy sight easier than thinkin'. " Presently I heerd him ax the groom who that 'are Yankee- lookin' feller was. * That ? ' said the groom. * Why, I guess it's Mr. Slick.' *Sho !' said he ; 'how you talk 1 What ! Slick, the Clockmaker ? Why, it ain't possible ? I wish I had known that 'are afore, I declare ; for I have a great curiosity to see Aim. Folks say he is an amazin' clever feller that,' and he turned and stared, as if it was Old Hickory himself. Then he walked round and about like a pig round the fence of a potato-field, a-watchin' for a chance to cut in. So thinks I, * I'll jist give him somethin' to talk about when he gets back to the city. I'll fix a Yankee handle on him in no time.' " ' How's times to Halifax, sir ? ' said I. * Better,' says he ; * much better. Business is done on a surer bottom than it was, and things look bright again.' *So does a candle,' says I, 'jist afore it goes out ; it burns up ever so high, and then sinks right down, and leaves nothin' behind but grease and an everlastin' bad smell. I guess they don't know how to feed their lamp ; and it am't burn long on nothin'. No, sir ; the jig is up with Halifax, and it's all their own fault. If a man sits at his door, and sees A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE $7 stray cattle in his field a eatin' up of his crop, and his neighbours a-cartin' off his grain, and won't so much as go and drive 'cm out, why, I should say it sarves him right.' •' ' I don't exactly onderstand, sir,' said he. Thinks I, ' It would be strange if you did, for I never see one of your folks yet that could understand a hawk from a hand-saw.' *\Vell,' says I, * I will tell you what I mean. Draw a line from Cape Sable to Cape Cansoo, right through the Province, and it will split into two this way,' and I cut an apple into two halves. ' Now,' says I, ' the worst half, like the rotten half of the apple, belongs to Halifax, and the other and sound half belongs to St. John. Your side of the Province on the sea coast is all stone— I never see such a proper sight of rocks in my life ; it's enough to starve a rabbit. Well, t'other side on the Bay of Fundy is a superfine country ; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere. Now, wouldn't the folks livin' away up to the Bay be pretty fools to go to Halifax, when they can go to St. John with half the trouble ? St. John is the nateral capital of the Bay of Fundy. It will be the largest city in America, next to New York. It has an immense back country as big as Great Britain, a first-chop river, and amazin' sharp folks — 'most as cute as the Yankees. It's a splendid location for busi- ness. Well, they draw all the produce of the Bay shores ; and where the produce goeSj the supplies return. It will take the whole trade of the Provmce. I guess your rich folks will find they've burnt their fingers — they've put their foot in it, that's a fact. Houses without tenants, wharves without shippin', a town without people — what a grand investment ! If you have any loose dollars, let 'em out on mortgage in Halifax ; that's the security. Keep clear of the country, for your life ; the people may run, but the town can't. No ; take away the troops, and you're done. You'll sing the " Dead March " folks did to Louisburg and Shel- burne. Why, you han't got a sinj,'le thing worth havin' but a good harbour ; and as for that, the coast is full on 'em. You haven't a pine log, a spruce board, or a refuse shingle. You neither raise wheat, oats, nor hay ; nor never can. You have no stables on airth, unless it be them iron ones for the padlocks at Bridewell. You've sowed pride, and reaped poverty ; take care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin'. You have no river and no country. What, in the name of fortin', have you to trade on ? ' " ' But,' said he (and he showed the whites of his eyes like a wall-eyed horse) — ' but,' said he, ' Mr. Slick, how is it, then, Halifax ever grew at all ? Hasn't it got what it always had ? It's no worse than it was.* * I guess,' said I, ' that pole ain't strong enough to bear you neither. If you trust to that, you'll be into the brook, as sure as you are born. You once had the trade of the whole Province, but St. John has run off with that now. You've lost all but your trade in blue berries and rabbits with the niggers at Hammond Plains. You've lost your customers. \l 'm jir 11 58 THE CLOCKMAKER Your rtva/s have a better stand for business. They^ve got the corner-stone ; four great streets meet there^ and ifs near the market' slip. ^ " Well, he stared. Says he, ' I believe you're right ; but I never thought of that afore.' (Thinks I, ' Nobody ever suspected you of the trick of thinkin', that ever I heerd tell of.') * Some of our great men,' said he, ' laid it all to your folks sellin' so many clocks and Polyglot Bibles ; they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money.' * Did they, indeed?' said I. 'Well, I guess it an't pins and needles that's the expense of house-keepin' ; it's something more costly than that.' ' Well, some folks say it's the banks,' says he. * Better still,' says I. ' Perhaps you've heerd tell, too, that greasin' the axle makes a gig harder to draw, for there's jist about as much sense in that.' * Well, then,' says he, * others say it's smugglin' has made us so poor.' ' That guess,' says I, 'is 'most as good as t'other one. Whoever found out that secret ought to get a patent for it, for it's worth knowin'.' 'Then the country has grown poorer, hasn't it, because it has bought cheaper this year than it did the year before ? ' ' Why, your folks are cute chaps, I vow ; they'd puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer, they are so ajnazin' knowin'.' * Ah I' said he, and he rubb'd his hands and smiled like a young doctor when he gets his first patient — 'ah !' said he, 'if the timber duties are altered, down comes St. John, body and breeches. It's built on a poor foundation ; it's all show. They are speculatin' like mad ; they'll ruin themselves.' Says I, * If you wait till they're dead for your fortin' it will be one while, I tell you, afore you pocket the shiners. It's no joke wailing for a dead man's shoes. Suppose an old feller of eighty was to say, " When that 'are young feller dies, I'm to inherit his property," what would you think ? Why, I guess you'd think he was an old fool. No^ sir; if the English don^t want their timber^ we do want it all. We have used oum up; we hafit got a stick even to whittle. If the English don't offer, we will ; and St. John, like a dear little weepin' widder, will dry up her tears, and take to frolickin' agin, and accept it right off. " 'Theie isn't at this moment such a location hardly in America as St. John ; for, beside all its other advantages, it has this great one. Its only rival, Halifax, has got a dose of opium that will send it snorin' out of the world, like a feller who falls asleep on the ice of a winter's night. It has been asleep so long, I actilly think it never will wake. It's an easy death, too. You may rouse them up if you like, but I vow I won't. I once brought a fellc*" to that was drowned ; and one night he got drunk and quilted me ; I couldn't walk for a week. Says I, "You're the last chap I'll ever save from drownin' in all my born days, if that's all the thanks I get for it." No, sir ; Halifax has lost the run of its custom. Who does Yarmouth trade with ? St. John. Who does Annapolis County trade with ? St. John. Who do all thp A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE 59 folks on the Basin of Minas and Bay Shore trade with ? St. John. Who does CumberLind trade with ? St. John. Well, Pictou, Lunenburg, and Liverpool supply themselves ; and the rest, that ain't worth havin', trade with Halifax. They take down a few starved pigs, old veteran geese, and long-legged fowls, some ram mutton and tough beef, and swap them for tea, sugar, and such little notions for their old women at home ; while the railroads and canals of St. John are goin' to cut off your Gulf shore trade to Miramichi, and along there. Flies live in the summer, and die in winter ; you're jist as noisy in war as those little critters, but you sing small in peace. " ' No ; you're done for. You are up a tree. You may depend, pride must fall. Your town is like a ball-room after a dance : the folks have ate, drank, and frolicked, and left an empty house ; the lamps and hangings are left, but the people are gone.' " ' Is there no remedy for this ?' said he, and he looked as wild as a Cherokee Indian. Thinks I, * The handle is fittin' on proper tight now.' ' Well,' says I, 'when a man has a cold, he had ought f.o look out pretty sharp, afore it gets seated on his lungs ; if he don't, he gets into a gallopin' consumption, and it's gone goose with him. There is a remedy, if applied in time : make a railroad to Minas Basin^ and you have a way for your mstoviers to get to you^ and a convey a7ice for your goods to them. When I was to New York last, a cousin of mine, Hezekiah Slick, said to me, " I do believe, Sam, I shall be ruined. I've lost all my custom. They are widenin' and improvin' the streets, and there's so many carts and people to work in it, folks can't come to my shop to trade. What on airth shall I do ? And I'm payin' a dreadful high rent, too." " Stop, Ki 1 " says I. " When the street is all finished off and slicked up, they'll all come back agin, and a whole raft on 'em, too. You'll sell twice as much as ever you did. You'll put off a proper swad of goods next year, you may depend." And so he did. He made money, hand over hand. A railroad will bring back your customers, if done right off. But wait till trade 'has made new channels, and fairly gets settled in them, and you'll never divart it agin to all etarnity. When a feller waits till a gal gets married, I guess it will be too late to pop the question then. " ' St. John must go ahead, at any rate. You may, if you choose ; but you must exert yourselves, I tell you. If a man has only one leg, and wants to walk, he must get an artificial one. If you have no river, make a railroad, and that will supply its place.' * But,' says he, * Mr. Slick, people say it never will pay m the world ; they say it's as mad a scheme as the canab' ' Do they, indeed?' says I. ' Send them to me, then, and I'll fit the handle on to them in tu tu's. I say it will pay ; and the best proof is, our folks will take tu-thirds of the stock. Did you ever hear anyone else but your folks ax whether a dose of medicine would pay when it was given to save life ? If that everlastin' long Erie Canal can I !i i 60 THE CLOCKMAKER secure to New York the supply of that far-off country 'most t'other side of creat on, surely a railroad of forty-five miles can give you the trade of the Bay of Fundy. A railroad will go from Halifax to Windsor, and make them one town — easier to send goods from one to t'other, than Irom Governor Campbell's house to Admiral Cockburn's. A bridge makes a town, a river makes a town, a canal makes a town ; but a railroad is bridge, river, thoroughfare, canal, all in one. What a whappin' lar^^e place that would make, wouldn't it ? It would be the dandy ; that's a fact. No ; when you go back, take a piece of chalk, and the first dark night write on every door in Halifax, in large letters, ** A railroad" ; and if they don't know the meanin' of it, says you, " It's a Yankee word. If you'll go to San\ Slick, the Clockmaker, the chap that fixed a Yankee handle on to a Halifax blade"— (and I made him a scrape of my leg, as much as to say, "That's you")— "every man that buys a clock shall hear all about a railroad." CHAPTER XVIII THE GRAHAMITE AND THE IRISH PILOT "I THINK," said I, "this is a happy country, Mr. Slick. The people are fortunately all of one origin ; there are no national jealousies to divide, and no very violent politics to agitate them. They appear to be cheerful and contented, and are a civil, good- natured, hospitable race. Considering the unsettled state of almost every part of the world, I think I would as soon cast my lot in Nova Scotia as in any part I know of." " It's a clever country, you may depend," said he, "a very clever country ; full of mineral wealth, aboundin' in superior water privi- leges and noble harbours ; a large part of it prime land ; and it is in the very heart of the fisheries. But the folks put me in mind of a sect in our country they call the Grahamites : they eat no meat and no excitin' food, and drink nothin' stronger than water. They call it Philosophy (and that is such a pretty word, it has made fools of more folks than them afore now), but I call it tarnation nonsense. I once travelled through the State of Maine with one of them 'are chaps. He was as thin as a whippin'-post. His skin looked like a blown bladder arter some of the air had leaked out, kinder wrinkled and rumpled like, and his eye as dim as a lamp that's livin' on a short allowance of ile. He put me in mind of a pair of kitchen tongs — all legs, shaft, and head, and no belly ; a raal gander-gutted-lookin' critter, as holler as a bamboo walkin'- cane, and twice as yaller. He actilly looked as if he had been ^ picked off a rack at sea, and dragged through a gimlet hole. He was a lawyer. Thinks I, * The Lord 'a massy on your clients, you THE GRAHAMITE AND THE IRISH PILOT 6l hungry, half-starved-lookin' critter, you 1 You'll cat 'cm up alive, as sure as the Lord made Moses. You are just the chap to strain at a gnat and swaller a camel— tank, shank, and flank— all at a gulp.' " Well, when we came to an inn, and a beaf-steak was sot afore us for dinner, he'd say, * Oh, that is too good for me ; it's too cxcitin' : all fat meat is diseased meat. Give me some bread and cheese.* * Well,' I'd say, * I don't know what you cnll too good, but it an't good enough for me, for I call it as tough as laushong ; and that will bear chawing all day. When I liquidate for my dinner, I like to get about the best that's goin', and I an't a bit too well pleased if I don't.' ' Excitin', indeed 1 ' thinks I. ' Lord 1 I should like to see you excited, if it was only for the fun of the thing. What a temptin'-lookin' critter you'd be among the gals, wouldn't you ? Why, you look like a subject the doctor boys had dropped on the road arter they had dug you up, and had cut stick and run for it.' " Well, when tea come, he said the same thing, ' It's too excitin'. Give me some water— do ; that's follerin' the law of natur'. ' Well,' says 1, 'if that's the case, you ought to eat beef.' 'Why,' says he, 'how do you make out that 'are proposition ?' 'Why,' says I, 'it drinkin' water instead of tea is natur', so is eating grass according to natur*. Now, all flesh is grass, we are told ; so you had better eat that, and call it vegetable. Like a man I once see'd, who fasted on fish on a Friday, and when he had none, whipped a leg o' mutton into the oven, and took it out fish. Says he " It's * changed //rt/V^,' that's all; and ^ plaice^ ain't a bad fish." The Catholics fast enough, gracious knows ! but then they fast on a great, rousin', big, splendid salmon at two dollars and forty cents a pound, and lots of old Madeiry to make it float light on the stomach. There's some sense in mortifyin' the appetite arter that fashion, but plaguy little in your way. No,' says I, 'friend, you may talk about natur* as you please. I've studied natur' all my life ; and I vow, if your natur' could speak out, it would tell you it don't over half like to be starved arter that plan. If you know'd as much about the marks of the mouth as I do, vou'd know that you have carniverous-as well as graniverous teeth, and that natur meant by that you should eat 'most anything that 'are door-keeper, your nose, would give a ticket to, to pass into your mouth. Father rode a race to New York course when he was near-hand to seventjj and that's more nor you'll do, I guess ; and he eats as hearty as a turkey cock ; and he never confined himself to water neither, when he could get anything that convened him better. Says he, " Sam Grandfather Slick used to say there was an old proverb in York shire, 'A full belly makes a strong back,'" and I guess if you try it, natur* will tell you so too. If ever you go to Connecticut, jist call into father's, and he'll give you a raal, right-down, genu/«^ New England breakfast ; and if that don't happify your heart, then my r lt7j ifi I 62 THE CLOCKMAKER name's not Sam Slick. It will make you feel about among the stiffest, I tell yuu. It will blow your jacket out like a pi^' at sea. You'll have to shake a reef or two out of your waistban's, and make good stowage, I guess, to carry it all under hatches. There's nothin' like a good pastur* to cover the ribs and make the hide shine, depend on't.' " Now, this Province is like that 'are Grahamite lawyer's beef: it's too ^'ood for the folks that's in it. They either don't avail its valy, or won't use it, because work ain't arter their Maw of natur*.' As you say, they are quiet enough (there's worse folks than the blue-noses, too, if you come to that), and so they had ought to be quiet, for they have nothin' to fight about. As for politics, they have nothin' to desarve the name ; but they talk enough about it, and a plaguy sight of nonsense they do talk, too. " Now, with us, the country is divided into two parties of the mammoth breed — the t'n's and the ou/'s, the administration and the opposition. But wherc's the administration here ? Where's the War Office, the Foreign Office, and the Home Office? Where's the Secretary of the Navy? Where's the State Bank? Where's the Ambassadors and Diplomatists.-' — them are the boys to wind off a snarl of ravellin's as slick as if it were on a reel ? And Where's that Ship of State, fitted up all the way from the forecastle clean up to the starn post, chuck full of good snug berths, hand- somely found and furnished, tier over tier, one above another, as thick as it can hold ? That's a helm worth handlin', I tell you. I don't wonder that folks mutiny below, and flight on the decks above for it. It makes a plaguy uproar the whole time, and keeps the passengers for everlastin'ly in a state of alarm, for fear they'd do mischif by bustin' the byler, a-runnin' aground, or gettin' foul of soms other craft. " This Province is better as it is, quieter and happier far. They have berths enough, and big enough ; they should be careful not to increase 'em ; and if they were to do it over agin, perhaps they'd be as well with fewer. They have two parties here — the Tory Party and the Opposition Party — and both on 'em run to extremes. * Them Radicals,' says one, ' are for levellin' all down to their own level, tho' not a peg lower ; that's their gage — ^jist down to their own notch, and no farther. And they'd agitate the who'e country to obtain that object ; for if a man can't grow to be as tall as his neighbour, if he cuts a few inches off him, why, then, they are both of one height. They are a most dangerous, disaffected people ; they are etarnally appealin' to the worst passions of the mob.' * Well,' says t'other, * them aristocrats, they'll ruinate the country ; they spend the whole revenue on themselves. What with bankers, councillors, judges, bishops, and public officers, and a whole tribe of lawyers as huni^ry as hawks and just about as marciful, the country is devoured, as if there was a flock of locusts a-feeding on it There's nothin' left for roads and bridges. When a chap sets THE GRAHAMITE AND THE IRISH PILOT 63 do of wn )th rs, be Ihe )n out to canvass, he's got to anta;4onise one side or t'other. If he hand's on to the powers that be, tlien he's a Councilman ; he's for votin' large salaries for tloin' as the great people at Halifax tell him. He is a fool. If he is on t'other side, a-railin' at banks, judges, lawyers, and such cattle, and bawlin' for what he knows he can't get, then he is a rogue. So that, if you were to listen to the weak and noisy critters on both sides, you'd believe the House of Assembly was one-half ropits ami V other half fools. All this arises from ignorance. If they knew more of each other., I guess they'd lay aside one-half their fears and all their abuse. The upper class dotit know one-half the vartue thafs in the middlin' and lower classes^ and they don't know one- half the integrity and good feeling that's in the others, and both are fooled and gulled by their own noisy and designin' champions. Take any two men that are by the ears : they opinionate all they hear of each other, impute all sorts of on- worthy motives, and misconstrue every act. Let them see more of each other, and they'll find out to their surprise that they have not only been looking thro' a magnifyin'-glass that warn't very true, but a coloured one also that changed the complexion and distorted the features, and each one will think t'other a very good kind of chap ; and, like as not, a plaguy pleasant one too. " If I was axed which side was farthest from the mark in this Province, I vow I should be puzzled to say. As I don't belong to the country, and don't care a snap of my finger for either of 'em, I suppose I can judge better than any man in it ; but I snore I don't think there's much difference. The popular side (I won't say patriotic, for we find in our steamboats a man who has a plaguy sight of property in his portmanter is quite as anxious for its safety as him that's only one pair of yarn stockings and a clean shirt is for his'n) — the popular side are not so well informed as tother, and they have the misfortin' of havin' their passions addressed more than their reason ; therefore they are often out of the way, or rather led out of it, and put astray by bad guides. Well, t'other side have the prejudices of birth and iducation to dim their vision, and are alarmed to undertake a thing, from the dread of ambush or open foes, that their guides are etarnally descrying in the mist — and beside, power has a nateral tendency to corpulency. As for them guides, I'd make short work of 'em if h was me. " In the last war with Britain, the Constitution frigate was close in once on the shores of Ireland a-lookin' arter some marchant ships, and she took on board a pilot. Well, he was a deep, sly, twisdcal-lookin' chap, as you can e'en a'most ever see'd. He had a sort of dark, down look about him, and a lear out of the corner of one eye, like a horse that's going to kick. The captain guessed he read in his face, ' Well, now, if I was to run this here Yankee right slap on a rock and bilge her, the King would make a man of me for ever.' So says he to the first leftenant, * Reeve a rope thro* ; A ^M ■Ss\ m A w\ 1 !* r 64 THE CLOCKMAKER .i^' that 'are block to the tip eend of the fore-yard, and clap a runnin' nuse in it.' The leftenant did it as quick as wink, and came back, and says he, * I guess it's done.' * Now,' says the captain, ' look here, pilot 1 Here's a rope you h.in'.. ace'd yet ; I'll jist explain the use of it to you, in case you want the loan of it. If this here frigate, manned with our free and enlightened citizens, gets aground, I'll give you a ride on the slack of that 'are rope, right up to that yard by the neck, by gum ! ' Well, it rubb'd all the writin' out of his face as quick as spittin' on a slate takes a sum out. Now, they should rig up a crane over the street door of the State House of Halifax, and when any of the pilots at either eend of the build in' run 'em on the breakers on purposfrj string 'em up like an onsafe dog. A sign of that 'are kind, with 'A house of public entertainment' painted 0"'^er it, would do the business in less than no time. If it wouidn't keep the hawks out of the poultry-yard, it's a pity. It would scare them out of a year's growth ; that's a fact. If they had used it once, I guess they wouldn't have occasion for it agin in a hurry. It would be like the aloe tree, and that bears fruit only once in a hundred years. " If you want to know how to act any time. Squire, never go lo books — leave them to gals and schoolboys — but go right off and cypher it out of natur' ; that's a sure guide. It will never dece've you, you may depend. For instance, ' Whafs that to mef* is a phrase so common that it shows it's a nateral one when people have no partikilar interest in a thing. Well, when a feller gets so warm on either side as never to use that phrase at all, watch him ; that's all. Keep your eye on him, or he'll walk right into you afore you know where you be. If a man runs to me and says, *Your fence is down,' 'Thank you,' says I ; 'that's kind.' If he comes agin and says, * I guess some stray cattle have broke into your short, scarce garden,' I thank him agin. Says I, ' Come now, this is neighbourly.' But when he keeps etamally tellinij me this thing of one sarvant, and that thing of another sarvant, hints that my friends an't true, that my neighbours are inclined to take advantage of me, and that suspicious folks are seen about my place. I say to myself, ' What on airth makes this critter take such a wonderful interest in my affairs ? I don't like to hear such tales. He's arter something, as sure as the world. If he warn't, he'd say, " Whafs that to tnef" ' I never believe much what I hear said by a man's violent friend^ or violent enemy ; I want to hear what a disinterested man has to say. Noiv^ as a disinterested man^ I say if the members of the House of Assembly^ instead of raisiri up ghosts and hobgoblins to frighten folks with^ and to show what swordsmen they be, a-cuttin^ and a-thrustin^ at phantofHs that only exist in their own brains^ would turn to heart and hand^ and develop the resources of this fine country, facilitate the means of transport, promote its internal improvement, and encourage its foreign trade, they would make it the richest and '. *- ' -V THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE-NOSE 6S greatest^ as it now is one of the happie^i^ sections of all Ament,a — / hope I may be skinned if they vjouldrit, l^hey would^ I swan* by It a / low hns tnd fate ]Md ind CHAPTER XIX THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE-NOSE The descendants of Eve have profited little by her example The curiosity of the fair sex is still insatiable, and as it is often ill-directed, it frequently terminates in error. In the country this feminine propensity is troublesome to a traveller, and he who would avoid importunities would do well to announce at once, on his arrival at a Cumberland inn, his name and his business, the place of his abode, and the length '^f his visit. Our beautiful hostess, Mrs. Pugwash, as she took her seat at the breakfast table this morning, exhibited the example that suggested these reflections. She was struck with horror at our conversation, the latter part only of which she heard, and, of course, misapplied and misunderstood. "She was run down by the President" said T, "and hri^ been laid up for some time. Gulard's people have strippetl ".ici, in consequence of her making water so fast." " Stripped whom ? " said Mrs. Pugwash, as she suddenly dropped the teapot from her hand — " stripped whom ? For Heaven's sake ! tell me who it is ?" "The Lady Ogle;' said I. "Lady Ogle!'' said she. "How horrid 1 " " Two of her ribs were so broken as to require to be replaced with new ones." " Two new ribs ! " said she. '' Well, I never heerd the beat of that in all my born days. Poor critt I How she must have suffered 1" "On examining her bslow ..e waist, they found — " " Examinin' her still lower 1 '' said she, all the pride of her sex revolting at the idea of such an indecent exhibition. " You don't pretend to say they stripped her below the waist ? What did the admiral say? Did he stand by and see her handled in that way ? " " The admiral, madam," said I, " did not trouble his head about it. They found her extremely unsound there, and much worm-eaten." " Worm-eaten ! " she continued. " Hew awful ! It must have been them nasty jiggers that got in there. They tell me they are dreadful thick in the W'cst Indies : Joe Crow had them in his feet, and lost two of his toes. Worm- eaten ! Dear, dear ! But still ihat ain't so bad as havin' them great he fellers strip one. I promise you if them Gulards had undertaken to strip me, I'd 'a taught them different guess manners. I'd 'a died first before I'd submitted to it. I always h.;erd tell the English quality ladies were awful bold, but I never heerd the like o' that." " What on airth are you drivin' at ? " said Mr. Slick. " I never §; ^ THE CLOCKMAKER see'd you so much out in your latitude afore, marm, I vow. We were talkin' of repriirin' a vessel, not strippin' a woman. What onder the sun could have put that 'are crotchet into your head ? " She looked mortified and humbled at the result of her own absurd curiosity, and soon quitted the room. " I thouf,'ht I should have snorted right out two or three times," said the Clockmaker. " I had to pucker up my mouth like the upper eend of a silk puss to keep from yaw-hawin' in her face, to hear the critter let her clapper run that fashion. She is not the first hand that has caught a lobster by puttin' in her oar afore her turn, I guess. She'll mind her stops next hitch, I reckon." This was our last breakfast at Amherst. An early frost that smote the potato fields, and changed the beautiful green colour of the Indian corn into shades of light yellow and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autumn — of the season of short days and bad roads. I determined to proceed at once to Parrsboro', and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and to return by the shore road through Liverpool and Lunenburg to Halifax. I therefore took leave (though not without much re- luctance) of the Clockmaker, whose intention had been to go to Fort Lawrence. " Well," said he, " I vow I am sorry to part company with you. A considerable long journey, like our'n, is Uke sittin' up late with the gals : a body knows it's gettin' on pretty well towards mornin', and yet feels loth to go to bed, for it's just the time folks grow sociable. " I got a scheme in my head," said he, " that I think will answer both on us. I got debts due to me in all them 'are places for clocks sold by the concarn. Now, s'pose you leave your horse on these marshes this fall — he'll get as fat as a fool ; he won't be able to see out of his eyes in a month — and I'll put ' Old Clay'' (I call him Clay arter our senator, who is a prime bit of stuff) into a Yankee waggon I have here, and drive yiu all round the coast." This was too good an offer to be declined. A run at grass for my horse, an easy and comfortable waggon, and a guide so original and amusing as Mr. Slick, were either of them enough to induce my acquiescence. As soon as we had taken our seats in the waggon, he observed : " We shall progress raal handsum now. That 'are horse goes etarnal fast ; he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's a spank '^r, you may depend. I had him when he was a two-year- old — all legs and tail, like a devil's darnin'-needle-and had him broke on purpose by father's old nigger, January Snow. He knows English raal well, and can do near about anything but speak it. He helped me once to ginn a blue-nose a proper handsum quiltin'." " He must have stood a poor chance, indeed," said I ; "a horse kicking, and a man striking him at the same time." " Oh ! not atter that pattern at all," said he. " Lord 1 if / THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE-NOSE 6/ )er n ine if Old Clay had 'a kicked him, he'd 'a smashed him like that 'are sarcer you broke at Piignose's Inn, into ten hundred thousand million flinders. Oh, no I if I didn't fix his flint for him in fair- play, it's a pity. I'll tell you how it was. I was up to Truro, at Ezra Whilter's inn. There was an arbitration there atween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well, there was a nation sight of folks there, for they said it was a biter bit ; and they came to witness the sport, and to see which critter woult" get the ear-mark. " VVeli, I'd been doin' a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for the river, mounted on Old Clay, arter takin' a glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin' off pretty slick, when who should I run agm but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you e'en a'most ever see'd, when he is about half-shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says I, ' Mr. Bradley, I hope you beant hurt. I'm proper sorry I run agin you ; you can't feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.' He called mc a Yankee pedlar, a cheatin' vagabond, a wooden nutmeg, and threw a good deal of assorted hardware of that kind at me. And the crowd of folks cried out : ' Down with the Yankee ! Let him have k, Tim ! Teach him better manners !' and they carried on pretty high, I tell you. Well, I got my dander up too ; I felt all up on eend like. And thinks I to myself, ' My lad, if I get a clever chance, I'll give you such a quiltm' as you never had since you were raised from a seedlin', I vow.' So says I, ' Mr. Bradley, I guess you had better let me be. You know I can't fight no more than a cow. I never was brought up to wranglin', and I don't like it.' ' Haul off the cowardly rascal ! ' they all bawled out. ' Haul him off, and lay it into him 1 ' So he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull ; and I lets on as if I had lost my balance, and falls right down. Then I jumps up on eend, and says I, ' Go ahead. Clay ! ' and the old horse he sets oft' ahead, so I knew I had him when I wanted him. Then says I, ' I hope you are satisfied now, Mr. Bradley, with that 'are ongenteel fall you ginn me.' Well, he makes a blow at me, and I dodged it. * Now,' says I, * you'll be sorry for this, I tell you. I won't be treated this way for nothin'. I'll go right off, and swear my life agin you ; I'm a'most afeerd you'll murder me.' Well, he strikes at me agin, thinkin' he had a genuine soft-horn to deal with, and hits me in the shoulder. * Now,' says I, ' I won't stand here to be lathered like a dog all day long this fashion ; it an't pretty at all. I guess I'll give you a chase for it.' Off I seis arter my horse like mad, and he arter me. I did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I mij;ht have fair-play at him. Well, I soon found I had the heels of him, and could play him as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close up to me, so as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squatted right whap down, all short, and he pitched over me near about a rod or so, I guess, on his head, and ploughed up the ground with his nose, the matter of !:^| [M 68 THE CLOCKMAKER a foot or so. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both mould boards of his face, it's a pity. ' Now,' says I, ' you had better lay where you be, and let me go, for I'm proper tired ; I blow like a horse that's got the heaves. And besides,' says I, ' I guess you had better wash your face, for I'm most afeerd you hurt yourself.' That ryled him properly (I meant that it should); so he ups and at me awful spiteful, like a bull. Then I let's him have it — right, left, right — ^jist three corkers, beginnin' with the right hand, shift- ing to the left, and then with the right hand agin. This way I did it," said the Clockmaker, and he showed me the manner in which it was done. " It's a beautiful way of hittin', and always does the business — a blow for each eye, and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten-pounds-ten on a blacksmith's anvil. I bunged up both eyes for him, and put in the dead lights in tu tu's, and drew three of his teeth quicker, a plaguy sight, than the Truro doctor could to save his soul alive. ' Now,' says I, ' my friend, when you recover your eyesight, I guess you'll see your mistake. I warn't born in the woods, to be scared by an owl. The next time you feel in a most particular elegant good humour, come to me, and I'll plav you the second part of that identical same tune ; that's a fact.' " With that I whistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I mounted and off, jist as the crowd came u?p. The folks looked staggered, and wondered a little grain how it was done so cleverly in short metre. If I didn't quilt him in no time, you may depend. I went right slap into him like a flash of lightnin' into a gooseberry bush. He found his suit ready-made and fitted afore he thought he was half measured. Thinks I, ' Friend Bradley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow no livin' soul would. You swallowsd your soup without singin' out scaldin's, and you're near about a pint nearer cryia' than larfin'.' " Yes, as I was sayin', this Old Clay is a real knowin' one. He's as spry as a colt, yet clear-grit, ginger to the backbone. ' can't help a-thinkin' sometimes the breed must have come frcni Old Kentuck — half-horse, half-alligafor, with a cross of the airthquake. " I hope I may be tee-totally ruinated if I'd take eight hundred dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker-built villain 1 " said he, "and show the gentleman how wonderful hanc^sum you can travel ! Give him the real Connecticut quick-step. That's it ; that's the way to carry the President's message to Congress, from Washin'ton to New York, in no time ; that'r the go to carry a gal from Boston to Rhode Island, and trice her up to a Justice to be married afore her father's out of a bed of a summer's mornin'. Ain't he a beauty? — a raal doll?-~none of your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them, ihe more they won't go ; but a proper one, that will go, free, gratis, for nothin', all out of his own head volun- terrily. Yes, a horse like Old Clay is worth the whole seed, breed, and generation of them Amherrt beasts put together. He's a horse, every inch of him — stock, lock, and barrel — is Old Ciay.*^ SISTER SALL'S COURTSHIP « CHAPTER XX SISTER SALL'S COURTSHIP a d ** There goes one of them 'are everlastin' rottin' poles in that bricl<(e. They are no better than a trap for a critter's legs," said the Clockmaker. " They remind me of a trap Jim Munroe put his foot in c^ne night that near about made one leg half a yard longer than t'oth'^r. I believe I told you of him — what a desperate idle feller he was — he came from Onion County, in Comecticut. Well, he was courtin' Sister Sail. She was a raal handsum- lookin' gal ; you scarce ever see'd a more out-and-out complete critter than she was ; a fine figur'-hcad, and a beautiful model of a craft as any in the State ; a real clipper, and as full of fun and frolic as a kitten. Well, he fairly turned Sail's hei 1. The more we wanted her to give him up, the more she wouldn't ; r.fl we got plaguy oneasy about it, for his character was none of the best. He was a universal favourite with the gals ; and tho' he didn't behave very pretty neither — forgetting to marry where he promised, and where he hadn't ought to have forgot loo — yet so it was ; he had such an uncommon winnin' way with him, he could talk them over in no time. Sail was fairly bewitched. " At last father said to him one evenin' when he came a-courtin' : *Jim,' says he, 'you'll never come to no good, if you act like old Scratch as you do. You ain't fit to come into no decent man'fi house at all, and your absence would be ten times more agreeable than your company, I tell you. I won't consent to Sail's goin' to them 'are huskin' parties and quiltin' frolics along with you no more, on no account ; for you know how Polly Brown and Nancy White — ' 'Now don't,' says he- ' now don't. Uncle Sam; say no more about that. If you know'd all, you wouldn't say it was my fault. And besides, I have turned right about ; I am on t'other tack now, and the long leg too. I am as steady as a pump-bolt now. I intend to settle myself, and take a farm.' Yes, yes; and you could stock it, too, by all accounts, pretty well, unless you are much misreported,' says father ; ' but it won't do. I know'd your father. He was our sargeant ; a proper clever and brave man he was, too. Ilo A'as one of the heroes of our glorious Revolution. I had a great respect for him ; and I am sorry, for his sake, you will act as you do. But I tell you, once for all, you must give up all thouijhts of Sail, now and for ever- lastin'.' When Sail heerd this, she began to knit away like mad in a despera'e hurry — she looked foolish enough ; that's a fact. First she tried to bite in her breath, and look as if there was nothin' partikilar in the wind ; then she blushed all over like scarlet fever, but she recovered that pretty soon ; and then her colour went and came, and came and went, till at last she grew as white as chalk, i\ *-; 70 THE CLOCKMAKER and down she fell slap off her seat on the floor in a faintin' fit. * I see,' says father, * I see it now, you etarnal villain 1 ' and he made a pull at the old-fashioned sword that always hung over the fire- Elace (we used to call it 'Old Bunker,' for his stories always egun : 'When I was at Bunker's Hill'), and drawin' it out, he made a clip at him as wicked as if he was stabbin' a rat with a hay-fork. But Jim, he out of the door like a shot, and draws it to arter him, and father sends Old Bunker right through the panel. ' I'll chop you up as fine as nunce-meat, you villain,' said he, * if ever I catch you inside my door agin. Mind what I tell you, youHl swing for it yet! Well, he made himself considerable scarce arter that. He never sot foot inside the door agin, and I thought he had ginn up all hopes of Sail, and she of him, when one night — a most particular oncommon dark night — as I was a-comin' home from neighbour Dearborne's, I heerd someone a-talkin' under Sail's window. Well, I stops and listens, and who should be near the ash saplin'but Jim Munroe, a-tryin' to persuade Sail to run off with him to Rhode Island to be married. It was all settled : he should come with a horse and shay to the gate, and then help her out of the window, jist at nine o'clock, about the time she commonly went to bed. Then he axed her to reach down her hand for him to kiss (for he was proper clever at soft sawder), and she stretches it down, and he kisses it, and says he, * I believe I must have the whole of yon, arter all,' and gives her a jirk that kinder startled her — it came so sudden like, it made her scream ; so off he sot hot-foot, and over the sate in no time. " Well, I cyphered over this all night, a-calculatin' how I should reciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I recollected father's words at partin' : ^ Mind what I tell you^ youHl swing for it yet^ and thinks I, ' Friend Jim, I'll make the prophecy come true yet, I guess.' So the next ni.^ht, just at dark, I gives January Snow, the old nigger, a nidge with my elbow ; and as soon as he looks up, I winks and walks out, and he arter me. Says I, ' January, can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger, you ?' ' Why, massa — why you ax that 'are question ? My Gor Ormity ! you tink old Snow he don't know that 'are yet ? My tongue he got plenty room now — debil a tooth left ; he can stretch out ever so far, like a little lej? in a big bed. He lay quiet enough, massa, neber fear.' ' Well, then,' says I, ' bend down that 'are ash saplin' softly, you old Snowball ; and make no noise.' The saplin' was no sooner bent than secured to the ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slip knot was suspended from the tree, jist over the track that led from the pathway to the house. ' Why, my Gor, massa, that's a — ' * Hold your mug, you old nigger,' says I, ' or I'll send your tongue a-sarchin' arter your teeth. Keep quiet, and follow me in presently.' " Well, jist as it struck nine o'clock, says I, ' Sally, hold this here hank of twine for a minute, till I wind a trifle on it off ; that's SISTER BALL'S COURTSHIP n 7/ !t? ^d 1st t, is •s a dear critter.' She sot down her candle, and I put the twine on her hands ; and then I begins to wind and wind away ever so slow, and drops the ball every now and then, so as to keep her down- stairs. ' Sam,' says she, * I do believe you won't wind that 'are twine off all night. Do give it to January. I won't stay no longer ; I'm e'en a'most dead asleep.' ' The old feller's arm is so plaguy onsteady,' says I, 'it won't do. But hark ! What's that ? I'm sure I heerd something in the ash saplin'. Didn't you, Sail ? ' * I heerd the geese there, that's all,' says she ; ' they always come onder the windows at night.' But she looked scared, and says she, ' I vow I'm tired a-holdin' out of arms this way, and I won't do it no longer,' and down she throwed the hank on the floor. ' Well,' says I, *stop one minit, dear, till I send old January out to see if anybody is there. Perhaps some o' neighbour Dearborne's cattle have broke into the scarce garden.' January went out, tho' Sail said it was no use, for she knew the noise of the geese ; they always kept close to the house at night for fear of the varmin. Presently in runs old Snow, with his hair standin' up on eend, and the whites of his eyes lookin* as big as the rims of a soup-plate. * Oh, Gor Ormity 1 said he ; * oh, massa ! oh. Miss Sally — oh 1' 'What on airth is the matter with you ?* said Sally. ' How you do frighten me ! I vow I beheve you're mad.' 'Oh, my Gor !' said he ; 'oh, massa ! Jim Munroe, he hung himself on the ash saplin' under Miss Sally's window. Oh, my Gor ! ' That shot was a settler. It struck poor Sail right atwixt wind and water : she gave a lurch ahead, then heeled over and sank right down in another faintin' fit ; and Juno, old Snow's wife, carried her off and laid her down on the bed. Poor thing ! she felt ugly enough, I do suppose. " Well, father, I thought he'd 'a fainted too, he was so struck up all of a heap ; he was completely bung-fungered. * Dear, dear 1 ' said he, ' I didn't think it would come to pass so soon. But I knew it would come ; I foretold it. Says I, the last time I see'd him, "Jim," says I, "mind what I SQ.y^ you'll swing for it yet." Give me the sword I wore when I was at Bunker's Hill— may be there is life yet — I'll cut him down.' The lantern was soon made ready, and out we went to the ash saplin'. ' Cut me down, Sam ; that's a good feller,' said Jim. 'AH the blood in my body was swashed into my head, and's a-runnin' out o' my nose ; I'm e'en a'most smothered. Be quick, for Heaven's sake I ' ' The Lord be praised,' said father, ' the poor sinner is not quite dead yet. Why, as I'm alive ! — well, if that don't beat all natur* — why, he has hanged himself by one leg, and's a-swingin' like a rabbit upside down ; that's a fact. Why, if he ain't snared, Sam, he is properly wired, I declare. I vow this is some of your doings, Sam. Well, it was a clever scheme, too ; but a little grain too dangerous, I guess.' * Don't stand starin' and jawin' there all night,' said Jim. ' Cut me down, I tell you — or cut my throat, and be damned to you ; V I I I :f ■' 7a THE CLOCKMAKER for I am choking with blood.' ' Roll over that 'are hogshead, old Snow,* said I, 'till I get a-top on it and cut him down.' So I soon released him. But he couldn't walk a bit ; his ankle was swelled and sprained like vengeance, and he swore one leg was near about six inches longer than t'other. *Jim Mum oe,' says father, 'little did I think I should ever see you inside my door agin, but I bid you enter now ; we owe you that kindness, anyhow.' " Well, to make a long story short, Jim was so chap-fallen, and so down in the mouth, he begged for He?%cn's sake it might be kept a secret. He said he would run the State if ever it got wind ; he was sure he couldn't stand it. 'It will be one while, I guess, said father, ' afore you are able to run or stand either. But if you will give me your hand, Jim, and promise to give over your evil ways, I will not only keep it a secret, but you shall be a welcome guest at old Sam Slick's once more, for the sake of your father. He was a brave man — one of the heroes of Bunker's Hill ; he was our sergeant, and — ' ' He promises,' says I, ' father' — (for the old man had stuck his right foot out, the way he always stood when he told about the old war ; and as Jim couldn't stir a peg, it was a ^rand chance, and he was a-goin' to give him the whole Revolu- tion, from General Gage up to Independence^ — 'he promises,' says I, ' father.' Well, it was all settled, and things soon grew as calm as a pan of milk two days old ; and afore a year was over, Jim was as steady a-goin' a man as Minister Joshua Hopewell, and was married to our Sail. Nothin' was ever said about the snare till arter the weddin'. When the minister had finished axin' a blessin', father goes up to Jim, and says he, 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' givin' him a rousin' slap on the shoulder that sot him a-coughin' for the matter of five minutes (for he was a mortal powerful man was father) — ' Jim Munro, my boy,' says he, ' you've got the snare round your neck, I guess now, instead of your leg. The saplin' has been a father to you ; may you be a father of many saplin's.' " We had a most special time of it, you may depend — all except the minister. Father got him into a corner, and gave him chapter and varse of the whole war. Every now and then, as I come near them, I heerd ' Bunker's Hill, Brandyvvine, Clinton, Gates,' and so on. It was broad day when we parted, and the last that went was poor minister. Father followed him clean down to the gate, and says he, ' Minister, we hadn't time this hitch, or I'd 'a told you all about the evakyation of New York ; but I'll tell you that next time we meet ' " A-J^ ! SETTING UP FOR A GOVERNOR 73 CHAPTER XXI SETTING UP FOR A GOVERNOR " I NEVER see one of them queer little old-fashioned teapots, like that 'are in the cupboard of Marm Pugwash," said the Clockmaker, "that I don't think of Lawyer Crowningshield and his wife. When I was down to Rhode Island last, I spent an evenin' with them. Arter I had been there a while, the black house-help brought in a little home-made dipt-candle, stuck in a turnip sliced in two to make it stand straight, and sot it down on the table. 'Why,' says the lawyer to his wife, ' Increase, my dear, what on airth is the me.ming o' that ? What does little Viney mean by brin«,'in' in such a light as this, that ain't fit for even a log hut of one of our free and enlightened citizens away down east ? Where's the lamp ?' ' My dear,' says she, ' I ordered it. You know they are a-goin' to set you up for a Governor next year, and I allot we must economise, or we will be ruined. The salary is only four hundred dollars a year, you know, and you'll have to give up your practice. We can't afford nothin' now,' " Well, when tea was brought in, there was a little wee china teapot that held about the matter of half a pint or so, and cups and sarcers about the bigness of children's toys. When he see'd that, he grew most peskily ryled ; his under lip curled down like a peach leaf that's got a worm in it, and he stripped his teeth and showed his grinders like a bulldog. 'What foolery is this ?' said he. 'My dear,' said she, 'it's the foolery of bein' Governor. If you choose to sacrifice all your comfort to bein' the first rung in the ladder, don't blame me for it. I didn't nominate you ; I had no art nor part in it. It was cooked up at that 'are Convention, at Town Hall.' Well, he sot for some time without say in' a word, lookin' as black as a thunder-cloud just ready to make nil natur* crack agin. At last he gets up and walks round behind his wife's chair, and takin'her face between his two hands, he turns it up, and gives her a buss that went off like a pistol ; it fairly made my mouth water to see him. Thinks I, ' Them lips ain't a bad bank to deposit one's spare kisses in neither. ' Increase, my dear,' said he, ' 1 believe you are half right. I'll decline to-morrow ; I'll have nothin' to do with it — I nvorit be a Gove? nor ^ on no accounts " Well, she had to haw and to gee like, both a little, afore she could get her head out of his hands ; and then she said, ' Zachariah,' says she, ' how you do act ! Ain't you ashamed ? Do, for gracious sake, behave yourself ! ' and she coloured up ail over like a crimson piany. ' If you haven't foozled all my hair, too ; that's a fact,' says she, and she put her curls to rights, and looked as pleased as fun, though poutin' all the time, and walked right out of the room. Presently in come two well-dressed house-helps— one with a 74 THE CLOCKMAKER — .\ splendid gilt lamp, a raal London touch ; and another with a tea-tray, with a large solid silver cofTee-pot and teapot, and a cream-jug and sugar bowl of the same genu/« ^^ w m. % V Ci^ 7t THE CLOCKMAKER " schoolmaster is abroad" with the devil to it, for he has no home at all.' Why, Squire, you might jist as well expect a horse to go right oflf in gear, before he is halter-broke, as a blue-nose to get on in the world when he has got no schoolin'. " But to get back to my story. * Well,' says I, ' how's times with you, Mrs. Spry?' * Dull,' says she, 'very dull. There's no markets now ; things don't fetch nothin'.' Thinks I, * Some folks hadn't ought to complain of markets, for they don't raise nothin' to sell,' but I didn't say so, for poverty is keen enough without sharpening . its edge by poking fun at it. ' Potatoes,' says I, ' will fetch a good price this fall, for it's a good crop in a general way. How's youi-'n ?' * Grand,' says she ; * as complete as ever you see'd. Our tops were small, and didn't look well ; but we have the handsomest bottoms it's generally allowed in all our place. You never see'd the beat of .them ; they are actilly worth lookin' at.' I vow I had to take a chaw of tobacky to keep from snortin' right out ; it sounded so queer like. Thinks I to myself, * Old lady, it's a pity you couldn't be changed eend for eend, then, as some folks do their stockings. It would improve the look of your dial-plate amazingly then ; that's a fact.' " Now, there was human natur'. Squire," said the Clockmaker ; "there was pride even in that hovel. It is found in rags as well as king's robes ; where butter is spread with the thumb as well as the silver knife — natur* is natur\ wherever you find it. " Jist then, in came one or two neighbours to see the sport, for they took me for a sheriff or constable, or something of that breed ; and when they saw it was me, they sot down to hear the news. They fell right to at politics as keen as anything, as if it had been a dish of real Connecticut Slap-Jacks, or Hominy, or, what is better still, a glass of real, genu/w^, splendid mint julep. Whe-eu-up ! it fairly makes my mouth water to think of it. ' I wonder,' says one, 'what they will do for us this winter in the House of Assembly ?' * Nothin',' says the other. * They never do nothin' but what the great people at Halifax tell 'em. Squire Yeoman is the man ; he'll pay up the great folks this hitch ; he'll let 'em have their own ; he's jist the boy that can do it.' Says I, ' I wish I could say all men were as honest, then ; for I am afeer'd there are a great many won't pay me up this winter. I should like to trade with your friend. Who is he ? ' * Why,' says he, ' he is the member for Isle Sable County ; and if he don't let the great folks have it, it's a pity.' ' Who do you call great folks ?' said I, 'for I vow I haven't see'd one since I came here. The only one I know that comes near hand to one is Nicholas Overknocker, that lives along shore, about Margaret's Bay ; and he is a great man. It takes a yoke of oxen to drag him. When I first see'd him,' says I, "What on airth is the matter o' that man ? Has he the dropsy 1 for he is actilly the greatest man I ever see'd. He must weigh the matter of five hundredweight. He'd cut three inches on the rib. He must have SETTING UP FOR A GOVERNOR ;; ^*fL; /ell ^ as a proper sight of lard, that chap." No,' says I, * don't call 'em great men, for there ain't a great man in the country ; that's a fact. There ain't one that desarves the name. Folks will only larf at you if you talk that way. There may be some rich men, and I believe there be— and it's a pity there wam't more on 'em, and a still greater pity they have so little spirit and enterprise among 'em — but a country is none the worse of having rich men in it, you may depend. Great folks 1 Well, come ; that's a good joke. That bangs the bush 1 No, my friend,' says I, 'the meat thafs at the top of the barrel is sometimes not so good as that thafs a little grain loiver down; the upper and lower eends are piaguy apt to have a little taint in '^w, but the middle is always good.^ "*Well,' says the blue-nose, 'perhaps they beant great men exactly in that sense, but they are great men compared to us poor folks. And they eat up all the Revenue ; there's nothin' left for roads and bridges. They want to ruin the country ; that's a fact.' * Want to ruin your granny,' says I, for it raised my dander to hear the critter talk such nonsense. * I did hear of one chap,' says I, * that sot fire to his own house once, up to Squantum ; but the cunnin' rascal insured it first. Now, how can your great folks ruin the country without ruinin' themselves, unless they have insured the Province ? Our folks will insure all creation for half nothin', but I never heerd tell of a country being insured agin rich men. Now, if you ever go to Wall Street to get such a policy, leave the door open behind you, that's all, or they'll grab right hold of you. shave your head and blister it, clap a straight jacket on you, ana whip you right into a madhouse afore you can say Jack Robinson. No, your great men are nothin' but rich men ; and I can tell you for your comfort, there's nothin' to hinder you from bein' rich too, if you will take the same means as they did. They were once all poor folks as you be, or their fathers afore them ; for I know their whole breed, seed, and generation ; _and they wouldn't thank you to tell them that you knew their fathers and grandfathers, I tell you. If ever you want the loan of a hundred pounds from any of them, keep dark about that ; see as far ahead as you please, but it an't always pleasant to have folks see too far back. Perhaps they be a little proud or so, but that's nateral ; all folks that grow up right off, like a mushroom in one night, are apt to think no small beer of themselves. A cabbage has plaguy large leaves to the bottom, and spreads them out as wide as an old woman's petticoats, to hide the ground it sprung from, and conceal its extraction ; but what's that to you ? If they get too large saleries, dock 'em down at once ; but don't keep talkin' about it everlastin'ly. If you have too many sarvants, pay some on 'em off, or when they quit your sarvice, don't hire others in their room ; that's all. But you miss your mark when you keep firin' away the whole blessed time that way. *' * I went out a-gunnin' when I was a boy, and father went with 7« tHE CLOCKMAKER / me to teach me. Well, the first flock of plover I see'd I let slip at them and missed them. Says father, says he, *' What a blockhead you be, Sam ! That's your own fault; they were too far off, you hadn't ought to have fired so soon. At Bunker's Hill we let the British come right on till we see'd the whites of their eyes, and then we let them have it slap bang." Well, 1 felt kinder grigged at missin' my shot, and 1 didn't over half like to be scolded too ; so says I, " Yes, father ; but recollect you had a mud bank to hide behind, where you were proper safe, and you had a rest for your guns too ; but as soon as you see'd a little more than the whites of their eyes, you run for your dear life, full split, and so 1 don't see much to brag on in that, arter all, so come now.'' " I'll teach you to talk that way, you puppy, you," said he, " of that glorious day; " and he fetched me a wipe that I do believe, if I hadn't dodged, would have spiled my gunnin' for that hitch ; so I gave him a wide berth arter that all day. Well, the next time I missed, says I, " She hung fire so ever- lastin'ly, it's no wonder," and the next miss, says I, "The powder is no good, I vow." Well, I missed every shot, and I had an excuse for every one on 'em — the flint was bad, or she flashed in the pan, or the shot scaled, or something or another ; and when all wouldn't do, I swore the gun was no good at all. " Now," says father — and he edged up all the time, to pay me off for that hit at his Bunker's Hill story, which was the only shot I didn't miss — "you han't got the right reason arter all. It was your own fault, Sam." " ' Now, that's jist the case with you ; you may blame Banks and Council, and House of Assembly, and " the great men," till you are tired, but it's all your own fault — you^ve no spit it and no enterprise^ you want industry and economy j use them^ and youUl soon be as rich as the people of Halifax you call great folks — they didn't grow rich by talkin', but by workin' ; instead of lookin' arter other folks' busi- ness, they looked about the keenest arter their own. You are like the machinery of one of our boats, good enough, and strong enough, but of no airthly use till you get the steam up ; you want to be set in motion, and then you'll go ahead like anything, you may depend. Give up politics — it's a barren fields and well watched too ; where one crithr jumps a fence into a good field and gets faty more nor twenty are chased round and round by a whole pack ofyeipin' curs^ till they are fairly beat out^ andeend by bein^ half starved^ and are at the liftirH at last. Look to your farms^ your water powers^ your fisheries^ and factories. In short, says /, puttin^ on my hat anti siartin\ ' look to yourselves^ and dorit look to others. ¥--:f J ■> ^ Ns' ti A CURE FOR CONCEIT f9 ■^ CHAPTER XXII A CURE FOR CONCEIT "It's a most curious, unaccountable thing, but it's a tact," said the Clockmaker, " the blue-noses are so conceited, they think they know everything ; and yet there ain't a livin' soul in Nova Scotia knows his own business raal complete, farmer or fisherman, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk. A farmer said to me one day, up to Pugnose's Inn, at River Philip, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, ' I allot this ain't "a dread country" j I intend to sell off the house I improve, and go to the States.' ' If it ain't a bread country,' said I, ' I never see'd one that was. There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, aiid No. i Genessee, than in any other place of the same population in the univarse. You might ks well say it ain't a clock country, when to my sartin knowledge there are more clocks than bibles in it. I guess you expect to raise your bread ready made, don't you ? Well, there's only one class of our free and enlightened citizens that can do that, and that's them that are born with silver spoons in their mouths. It's a pity you wasn't availed of this truth afore you up killock and oflf. Take my advice and bide where you be.' " Well, the fishermen are jist as bad. The next time you go into the fish market at Hahfax, stump some of the old hands. Says you, * How many fins has a cod, at a word?' and I'll liquidate the bet if you lose it. When I've been along shore afore now a-vendin' of my clocks, and they began to raise my dander by belittling the Yankees, I always brought them up by a ropnd turn by that requirement : ' How many fins has a cod, at a word ? ' Well, they never could answer it ; and then says I, * When you lam your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach other folks their'n.' " How different it is with our men-folk I If they can't get thro^ a question, how beautifully they can go round it, can't they? Nothin' never stops them. I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad. One was a lawyer, and the other a doctor. They were talkin' about their examinations one night, at a huskin' frolic, up to Guvemor Ball's big stone bam at Slickville. Says Josy, * When I was examined, the Judge axed me all about real estate, and says he, "Josiah," says be, "what's a fee?" " Why," says I, "Judge, it depends on the natur* of the case. In a common one," says I, I call six dollars a pretty fair one ; but Lawyer Webster has got afore now, I've heerd tell, a thousand dollars, and that I do call a fee." Well, the Judge he larfed ready to split his sides. Thinks I, " Old chap, you'll bust like a steam byler, if you han't got a safety- valve somewhere or another ;" and says he, " I vow that's superfine. 80 THE CLOCTKMAKER I'll indorse your certificate for you, young man. There's no fear of vou ; you'll pass the inspection brand, anyhow." ' " ' Well,' says Eld;id, * I hope I may be skinned if the same thing didn't e'en a'most happen to me at my examination. They axed me a 'nation sight of questions ; some on' em I could answer, and some on 'em no soul could, right off the reel at a word, without a little cypherin'. At last they axed me, " How would you calcu- late to put a patient into a sweat, when common modes wouldn't work nohow ? " " Why," says I, " I'd do as Dr. Comfort Payne sarved father." "And how was that? "said they. " Why," says I, " he put him into such a sweat as I never see'd in him afore, in all my born days, since I was raised, by sending him in his bill ; and if that didn't sweat him, it's a pity. It was an ?x.tive dose, you may depend." " I guesiS that 'are chap has cut his eye teeth," said the President. " Let him pass as approbated." ' "They both knowed well enough; they only made as if they didn't, to poke a little fun at them, for the Slick family were counted in a general way to be pretty considerable cute. " They reckon themselves here a chalk above us Yankees, but I guess they have a wrinkle or two to grow afore they progress ahead on us yet. If they han't got a full cargo of conceit here, then I never see'd a load ; that's all. They have the hold chock full, deck piled up to the pump handles, and scuppers under water. They larnt that off the British, who are actilly so full of it, they remind me of Commodore Trip. When he was about half-shaved, he thought everybody drunk but himself. I never liked the last war ; I thought it unnateral, and that we hadn't ought to have taken hold of it at all ; and so most of our New England folks thought. And I warn't sorry to hear Gineral Dearbome was beat, seein' we had no call to go into Canada ; but when the Guerriirt was captivated by our old Ironsides, the Constitution^ I did feel lifted up a'most as high as a stalk of Varginy corn among Con- necticut middlin's ; I grew two inches taller, I vow, the night I heerd that news. * Brag,' says I, * is a good dog, but Hold-fast is a better.' The British navals have been a-braggin* and hectorin* so long, that when they landed in our cities they swaggered e'en a'most as much as Uncle Peleg (' Big Peleg,' as he was called) ; and when he walked up the centre of one of our narrow Boston streets, he used to swing his arms on each side of him, so that folks had to clear out of both footpaths. He's cut afore now the Sngers of both hands agin the shop windows on each side of the street ; many's the poor fellow's t iipper-bone he's smashed with his thick boots, a-throwin' out his feet afore him e'en a'most out of sight, when he was in full rig a-swigglin' away at the top of his gait. Well, they cut as many shines as Uncle Peleg. One frigate, they guessed, would captivate, sink, or burn our whole navy. Says a naval one day to the skipper of a fishing-boat that he took, says he, * Is it true Commodore Decatur's sword is made of an old iron h A CURE FOR CONCEIT 8l V-r i hoop?' *Well,* says the skipper, * I'm not quite certified as to that, seein' as I never sot eyes on it ; but I guess if he gets a chance he'll show you the temper of it some of these days, anyhow.' " I mind once a British man-o'-war took one of our Boston vessels, and ordered all hands on board, and sent a party to skuttle her. Well, they skuttled the fowls and the old particular genuine rum, but they obliviated their arrand, and left her. Well, next day another frigate (for they were as thick as toads arter a rain) comes near her, and fires a shot for her to bring to. No answer was made, there being no livin' soul on board ; and another shot was fired. Still no answer. ' Why, what on airth is the meanin' of this ? ' said the captain. ' Why don't they haul down that damn'd goose and gridiron ?' (that's what he called our eagle and stars on our flag). ' Why,' says the first lefienant, ' I guess they are all dead men ; that shot frightened them to death.' *They are afeerd to show their noses,' says another, *lest they should be shaved oflF by our shots.' ' They are all down below ^-calculatiri their loss, 1 guess,' says a third. * I'll take my davy,' says the captain, ' it's some Yankee trick — a torpedo in her bottom, or some such trap. We'll let her be.' And sure enough, next day, back she came to shore of herself. ' I'll give you a quarter of an hour,' says the captain of the Guerriire to his men, * to take that 'are Yankee frigate, the Constitution? I guess he" found his mistake where he didn't expect it — without any great sarch for it, either. Yes, to eventuate my story, it did me good. I felt dreadful nice, I promise you. It was as lovely as bitters of a cold momin'. Our folks beat 'em arter that so often, they got a little grain too much conceit also. They got their heels too high for their boots, and began to walk like Uncle Peleg too ; so that when the Chesapeake got whipped, I warn't sorry. We could spare that one ; and it made our navals look round, like a feller who gets a hoist, to see who's a-larfin' at him. It made 'em brush the dust off, and walk on rather sheepish. It cut their combs ; that's a fact. The war did us a plaguy sight of good in more ways than one. And it did the British some good too ; it taught 'em not to carry their shins too high, for fear they shouldn't see the gutters — a mistake that's spoiled niany a bran'-new coat and trousers afore now. " Well, these blue-noses have caught this disease, as folks do the Scotck fiddle, by shakin' hands along with the British. Con- ceit has become here, as Dr. Rush says (you have heerd tell of him ; he's the first man of the age, and it's generally allowed our doctors take the shine off all the world), acclimated. It is citizenised among 'em, and the onl;^ cure is a raal good quiltin'. I met a first-chop Colchester gag this summer a-goin' to the races to Halifax ; and he knowed as much about racin', I do suppose, as a Chictaw Indgian does of a railroad. Well, he was a-praisin' of 83 THE CLOCKMAKER his horse, and runnin' on like statiee. He was begot, he said, by Roncesvalles, which was better than any horse that ever was seen, because he was once in a duke's stable in England. It was only a man that had blood like a lord, said he, that knew what blood in a horse was. Captain Currycomb, an officer at Halifax, had seen his horse and praised him, and that was enough ; that stamped him ; that fixed his value. It was like the President's name to a bank- note ; it makes it pass current. * Well,' says I, * I han't got a drop of blood in me nothin' stronger than molasses and water, I vow ; but I guess I know a horse when I see him, for all that ; and I don't think any great shakes of your beast, anyhow. What start . will you give me,' says I, ' and I will run Old Clay agin you for a mile lick right an eend ?' ' Ten rods,' said he, *for twenty dollars.' Well, we run ; and I made Old Clay bite in his breath, and only beat him by half a neck. ' A tight scratch,' says I, 'that ; and it would have sarved me right if I had been beat. I had no business to run an old roadster so everlastin' fast ; it ain't fair on him, is it?' Says he, * I will double the bet and start even, and run you agin, if you dare ? ' ' Well,' says I, ' since I won the last, it wouldn't be pretty not to give you a chance. I do suppose I oughtn't to refuse, but I don't love to abuse my beast by knockin' him about that way.' " As soon as the money was staked, I said, ' Hadn't we better,' says I, 'draw stakes. That 'are blood-horse of your'n has such uncommon particular bottom, he'll perhaps leave me clean out of sight.' ' No fear of that,' says he, larfin ; * but he'll beat you easy, anyhow. No flinchin',' says he bargain. It's run or forfeit.' fear of it. Your horse will leave me out of sight, to a sartainty, that's a fact ; for he can^t keep up to me no time. I'll drop him, hull down, in tu tu's.' If Old Clay didn't make a fool of him, it's a pity. Didn't he gallop pretty, that's all ? He walked away from him, jist as the Chancellor Livingston steamboat passes a sloop at anchor in the North River. Says I, ' I told you your horse would beat me clean out of sight, but you wouldn't believe me. Now,' says I, * I will tell you something else. That 'are horse will help you to lose more money to Halifax than you are a-thinkin' on, for there ain't a beast gone down there that won't beat him. He can't run a bit ; and you may tell the British captain I say so. Take him home and sell him. Buy a good yoke of oxen — they are fast enough for a farmer — and give up blood- horses to them that can afford to keep stable-helps to tend ^ em j and leave bet tin' alone to them as has more money than ivit^ andean afford to lose their cash without thinkin* agin of their loss. ' * When / want your advice,' says he, ' I will ask it^ most peskily sulky. * You might have got it before you avediox it,' said I, ' but not afore you wanted it, you may depend on it. But stop,' said I ; * let's see that's all right afore we part.' So I counts over the fifteen pounds I won off him, note by note, as slow as anything, on purpose to ; ' I'll net let vou go back of the Well,' says I, 'friend, there is no :-,:. ■■'.. >• # ;'!\ THE BLOWIN' TIME 83 ryle him ; then I mounts Old Clay agin, and says I, * Friend, you have considerably the advantage of me in this hitch, anyhow.' •Possible?' says he. 'How's that?' 'Why,' says I, 'I guess you'll return rather lighter than you came, and that's more nor I can say, anyhow ;' and then I gave him a wink and a jupe of the head, as much as to say, * Do you take ?' and rode on and left him starin' and scratchin' his head like a feller who's lost his road. If that citizen ain't a born fool, or too far gone in the disease, depend on't, he found a cure for conceit" t CHAPTER XXI II THE BLOWIN' TIME The long, rambling dissertation on conceit to which I had just listened from the Clockmaker forcibly reminded me of the cele- brated aphorism, " Gnothi seauton " (" Know thyself"), which, both from its great antiquity and wisdom, has been by many attributed to an oracle. With all his shrewdness to discover, and his humours to ridicule, the foibles of others, Mr. Slick was blind to the many defects of his own character; and while prescribing "a cure for conceit," exhibited in all he said and all he did the most overweening conceit himself. He never spoke of his own countrymen without calling them "the most free and enlightened citizens on the face of the airth," or as "takin' the shine off all creation." His country he boasted to be the "best atween the poles," "the greatest glory under heaven." The Yankees he considered (to use his own expression) as " actilly the class-leaders in knowledge among all the Americans," and boasted that they have not only " gone ahead of all others," but had lately arrived at that most enviable ne ^lus ultra point, " goin' ahead of themselves." i a short, he entertamed no doubt that Slickville was the finest place iii the greatest nation in the world, and the Slick family the wisest family m it. I was about calling his attention to this national trait, when I saw him draw his reins under his foot-^-a mode of driving peculiar to himself when he wished to economise the time that would other- wise be lost by an unnecessary delay — and taking off his hat, which, like a pedlar's pack, contained a general assortment, selected from a number of loose cigars one that appeared likely to " go," as he called it. Having lighted it by a lucifer, and ascertained that it was " true in draft," he resumed his reins, and remarked : " This must be an everlastin' fine country, beyond all doubt, for the folks have nothin' to do but to ride about and talk politics. In winter, when the ground is covered with snow, what grand times they have a-slayin' over these here marshes with the gals, or playing ball on 84 THE CLOCKMAKER A^ the ice, or Roin' to quiltin' frolics of nice long winter evenings, and then a-drivin' home like mad by moonlight. Natur* meant that season on purpose for couriin'. A little, tidy, scrumptious-looking slay, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on his back, lookin' for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at gatherin' time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but her eyes and lips — the one lookin' right into you, and the other talkin' right at you— is e'en a'most enough to drive one ravin', tarin', distracted mad with pleasure, ain't it ? And then the dear critters say the bells make such a din there's no hearin' one's self speak ; so they put their pretty little mugs close up to your face, and talk, talk, talk, till one can't help lookin' right at them instead of the horse ; and then whap you both go, capsized into a snow-drift together — skins, cushions, and all. And then to see the little critter shake herself when she gets up, like a duck landin' from a pond, a-chatterin' away all the time like a canary bird, and you a-haw-hawin* with pleasure, is fun alive, you may depend. In this way blue-nose gets led on to offer himself as a lovier, afore he knows where he be's. " But when he gets married, he recovers his eyesight in little less than half no time. He soon finds he's treed : his flint is fixed then, you may depend. She lams him how vinegar is made. ' Put plenty of sugar into the water aforehand, my dear,' says she, ' if you want to make it real sharp.' The larf is on the other side of his mouth then. If his slay gets upsot, it's no longer a funny matter, I tell you ; he catches it right and left. Her eyes don't look right up to his'n any more, nor her little tongue ring, ring, ring like a bell any longer ; but a great big hood covers her head, and a whappin' great muff covers her face, and she looks like a bag of soiled clothes a-goin' to the brook to be washed. When she gets out, she don't wait any more for him to walk lock-and-lock with her, but they march like a horse and a cow to water, one in each gutter. If there ain't a transmogrification, it's a pity. The differ- ence atween a wife and a sweetheart is near about as great as there is between new and hard cider — a man never tires of puttin* one to his lips, but makes plaguy wry faces at t'other. It myites me so kinder wamblecropt, when I think on it, that I'm afeem to venture on matrimony at all. I have seen some blue-noses most properly bit, you may depend. You've seen a boy a-slidin' on a most beautiful bit of ice, han't you, larfin', and hoopin', and hallowin' like one possessed, when presently souse he goes in over head and ears? How he outs, fins, and flops about, and blows like a porpus properly frightened, don't he ? And when he gets out, there he stands, all shiverin' and shakin', and the water a-squish-squashin' in his shoes, and his trousers all stickin* slimsey-like to his legs. Well, he sneaks off home, lookin' like a fool, and thinkin' every- body he meets is a-larfin' at him. Many folks here are like that it I THE BLOWIM' TIME 85 I ■'■•i;-: 'are boy afore they have been six months married. They'd be proper glad to get out of the scrape too, and sneak off if they could ; that's a fact. The marriage yoke is plaguy apt to gall the neck, as the ash bow does the ox in rainy weather, unless it be most particularly well mated. You've seen a yoke of cattle that warn't properly mated ? They spend more strength in pullin' agin each other than in pullin' the load. Well, that's apt to be the case with them as choose their wives in sleighin' parties, quiltin' frolics, and so on, instead of the dairies, looms, and cheese-house. *' Now, the blue-noses are all a-stirrin' in winter. The young folks drive out the gals, and talk love and all sorts of things as sweet as dough-nuts. The old folks find it near about as well to leave the old women at home, for fear they shouUln't keep tune together ; so they drive out alone to chat about House of Assembly with their neighbours, while the boys and hired helps do the chores. When the spring comes, and the fields are dry enough to be sowed, they all have to be ploughed, 'cause fall rains wash the lands too much for fall pioughiri . Well, the ploughs have to be mended and sharpened, ^cattse whaVs the use of doM that afore Ws wanted? Well, the wheat gets in too late, and then comes rust. But whose fault is that ? Why^ the climate^ to be sure; for Nova Scotia ainH a bread country. " When a man has to run ever so far as fast as he can clip, he has to stop and take breath ; you must do that, or choke. So it is with a horse. Run him a mile, and his flanks will heave like a blacksmith's bellows ; you must slack up the rein, and give him a little wind, or he'll fall right down with you. It stands to reason, don't it? Atwixt spring and fall work is *blowin'-time.' Then courts come on, and Grand Jury business, and militia trainin', and race trainin', and what not ; and a fine spell of ridin' about and doin' nothin' — a raal ' blowin'-time.' Then comes harvest ; and that is proper hard work— mowin' and pitchin' hay, and reapin' and bindin' grain, and potato-diggin'. That's as hard as sole leather, afore it's hammered on the lap- stone ; it's 'most next to anything. It takes a feller as tough as Old Hickory (General Jackson) to stand that. " Ohio is 'most the only country I know on where folks are saved that trouble, and there the freshets come jist in the nick of time for 'em, and sweep all the crops right up in a heap for 'em, and they have nothin' to do but take it home and house it ; and sometimes a man gets more than his own crop, and finds a proper swad of it all ready piled up, only a little wet or so. But all countries ain't like Ohio. Well, arter harvest comes fall ; and then there's a grand * blowin'-time ' til) spring. Now, how the Lord the blue-noses can complain of their country, when it's only one-third work and two-thirds ' blowin'-time,' no soul can tell. " Father used to say, when I lived on the farm along with him, * Sam,' says he, ' I vow I wish there was jist four hundred days in 86 THE CLOCKMAKER the year, for it's a plafjuy sight too short for me. I can find as much work as all hands on us can do for three hundred and sixty- five days, and jist thirty-five days more, if we had 'em. We han't got a minit to spare ; you must shell the corn and winner the grain at night, and clean all up slick, or I guess we'll fall astarn, as sure as the Lord made Moses.' If he didn't keep us all at it, a-drivin' away full chisel the whole blessed time, it's a pity. There was no 'blowin'-time' there, you may depend. We ploughed all the fall, for dear life. In winter we thrashed, made and mended tools, went to market and mill, and got out our firewood and rails. As soon as frost was gone, came sowin' and plantin', weedin' and hoein' ; then harvest and spreadin' compost ; then gatherin' manure, fencin' and ditchin' ; and then turn to and fall ploughin' agin. It all went round like a wheel without stoppin', and so fast, I guess, you couldn't see the spokes— just one long, everlastin' stroke from July to etarnity, without time to look back on the tracks. Instead of racin' over the country, like a young doctor, to show how busy a man is that has nothin' to do, as blue-nose does, and then take a ' blowin'-time,' we keep a raal travellin' gate, an eight-mile-an-hour pace, the whole year round. They buy more nor they sell^ and eat more than they raise in this country. What a pretty way that is, isn't it ? If the critters knew how to cypher, they would soon find out that a sum stated that way always eends in a nought. I never knew it to fail, and I defy any soul to cypher it so as to make it come out any other way, either by schoolmasters' assistant or algebra. When I was a boy, the Slickville Bank broke, and an awful disorderment it made ; that's a fact. Nothin' else was talked of. Well, I studied it over a long time, but I couldn't make it out ; so says I, * Father, how came that 'are bank to break ? Warn't it well built ? I thought that 'are Quincy granite was so amazin' strong all natur* wouldn't break it.' 'Why, you foolish critter,' says he, * it an't the buildin' that's broke ; it's the consam that's smashed.' * Well,' says I, * I know folks are plaguily con- samed about it, but what do you call " folks smashing their con- sarns"?' Father, he larfed out like anything ; I thought he never would stop ; and Sister Sail got right up and walked out of the room, as mad as a hatter. Says she, * Sam, I do believe you are a born fool, I vow.' When father had done larfin, says he, ' I'll tell you, Sam, how it was. They cyphered it so, that they brought out nothin' for a remainder.' * Possible 1 ' says I. * I thought there was no eend to their puss. I thought it was like Uncle Peleg's musquash hole, and that no soul could ever find the bottom of. My ! ' says I. ' Yes,' says he, ' that 'are bank spent and lost more money than it made ; and when folks do that, they must smash at last, if their puss be as long as the national one of Uncle Sam.' This Province is like that 'are bank of our'n ; it's goin' the same roa-d, and they'll find the little eend of the horn afore they think they are half-way down to it. \ I THE BLOWIN' TIME 87 •* If folks would only give over talkin' about that everlastin' House of Assembly and Council, and see to their farms, it would be better for 'em, I guess ; for, after all, what is it ? Why, it's only a sort of first-chop Grand Jury, and nothin' else. It's no more like Con^fress or Parliament than Marm Pugwash's keepin'- room is like our State Hall. It's jist nothin'. Congress makes war and peace, has a say in all treaties, confarms ail great nominations of the President, regilates the army and navy, j^overns twenty-four independent States, and snaps its fingers m the face of all the nations of Europe, as much as to say, 'Who be you? I allot I am as big as you be. If you are six foot high, I am six-foot-six in my stockin' feet, by gum ! and can lambaste any two of you in no time. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British. But this little House of Assembly that folks make such a touss about, what is it ? Why, jist a decent Grand Jury. They make their presentments of little money votes to mend these everlastin' rottin' little wooden bridges, to throw a poultice ,of mud once a year on the roads, and then take a 'blowin'-time' of three months and go home. The littler folks be, the bigger they talk. You never see'd a small man that didn't wear high-heel boots and a high-crowned hat, and that warn't ready to fight 'most anyone, to show he was a man every inch of him. " I met a member t'other day who swaggered near about as large as Uncle Peleg. He looked as if he thought you couldn't find his ' ditto ' nowhere. He used some most partikilar edicational words — genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squirrel I once shot in our wood location. The little critter got a hickory nut in his mouth. Well, he found it too hard to crack, and too big to swaller ; and for the life and soul of him, he couldn't spit it out agin. If ]ie didn't look like a proper fool, you may depend. We had a pond back of our barn, about the bigness of a good sizeable wash-tub, and it was choke full of frogs. Well, one of these little critters fancied himself a bull-frog, and he puffed out his cheeks, and took a raal ' blowin' time' of it ; he roared away like thunder. At last he puffed and puffed out till he bust like a byler. If I see the Speaker this winter (and I shall see him to a sartainty, if they don't send for him to London to teach their new Speaker) — and he's up to snuff, that 'are man ; he knows how to cypher — I'll jist say to him, * Speaker,' says I, * if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, give 'em a hint in time. Says you : If you have 'are a little safety-valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it. Recollect the Clockmaker's story of the " blowin' time." mmm 88 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XXIV "^ - FATHER JOHN O'SHAUGHNESSY "To-morrow will be Sabbath-day," said the Clockmaker; **I guess we'll bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country — all natur' seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here you don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but art there. The deathly stillness of a town, -and the barred windows, and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick buildins', look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin', but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there ; as if day had broke, but man slept. 1 can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and whample-cropt there. " Now in the countrj' it's jist what it ought to be — a day of rest ' for man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says : * Come, this is a splendid day, ain't It ? Let's get ready, and put on our bettermost clo's, and go to meetin'.' His first thought is prayerfully to render thanks ; and then when he goes to worship he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and they are glad to see each other ; and if any two on 'em han't exactly gee'd together durin' the week, why, they meet on kind of neutral ground, and the minister or neighbours makes peace atween them. But it an't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's the worship of neighbours, but it's the worship of strangers too, for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yes, I love a Sabbath in the country." While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table, and turning to the title-page, said : " Have you evet seen this here book on the ' Elder Controversy ' ?" (A controversy on the subject of Infant Baptism.) "This author's friends says it's a clincher ; they say he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle." " No," said I, " I have not ; I have heard of it, but never read it. In my opinion, the subject has been exhausted already, and' admits of nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are a serious injury to the cause of true religion ; they are deeply deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already embraced several denominations in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I anri told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antagonist, but contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnected with the dispute. ^he author has injured his own cause, for an intemperate advoec^t^ FATHER JOHN O'SHAUGHNESSY 89 r*' is more dangerous tkan an open foe," *' There is no doubt on it,'* said the Clockmaker; " it is as clear as mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. " About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic priest ; I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a leggin' it off hot foot. ' Possible ! ' says I, * Father John, is that you? Why, what on airth is the matter of you — what makes you in such an everlastin' hurry, driven away like one ravin', distracted mad?' 'A sick visit,' says he; 'poor Pat Lanigan, him that you mind to Brador Lake ; well, he's near about at the pint of death.' * I guess not,' said I, ' for I jist hear tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him up all standin', and he 'bouts ship in a jiffy, and walks a little way with me, and we got a-talkin' about this very subject. Says he, 'What are you, Mr. Slick?' Well, I looks up to him, and winks. 'A clockmaker,' says I. Well, he smiled, and says he, ' I see ; ' as much as to say, * I hadn't ought to have axed that 'are question at all, I guess, for every man's religion is his own, and nobody else's business.' Then says he : * You know all about this country — who does folks say has the best on the dispute?' Says I, ' Father John, it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war — each side claims victory ; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way; damage done on both sides, and nothin' gained as far as I can lam.' He stopped short, and looked me in the face, and says he, 'Mr. Slick, you are a man that has see'd a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an onderstandin' man, and I guess I can talk io you. Now,' says he, 'for gracious sake do 1'ist look here, and see how you heretics — Protestants, I mean,' says le, ' for I guess that 'are word slipt out without leave — are by the ears, a-drivin' away at each other, the whole blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs, disputin', revelin', wranglin', and beloutin' each other, with all sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the way you love your neighbour as yourself? We say this is a practical comment on schism^ and by the powers of Moll Kelly,* said he, * but they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em entirely.' Says I : * Father John, give me your hand ; there are some things, I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will, seein' that you are a Popish priest ; but in that idea I do opinionate with you, and I wish, with all my heart, all the world thought with us.' "I guess he didn't half like that 'a. e word, Popish priest; it seemed to grig him like ; his face looked kinder ryled, like well water arter a heavy rain ; and said he, ' Mr. Slick,' says he, * your country is a free country, ain't it ? ' 'The freest,' says I, 'on the face of the airth — you can't " ditto " it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and when our dander's up, stronger than any harricane you ever see'd — tear up all creation most. There ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere.' ' Do you call this a free country ? ' said he. 90 THE CLOCKMAKER * Pretty considerable middlin'/ says I, * seein' that they are under a king.' ' Well,' says he, ' if you were seen in Connecticut a-shakin' hands along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me' — and he made me a bow, as much as to say, ' Mind your trumps the next deal' — 'as you are now in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your crackin' and boastin' of your freedom, I guess you wouldn't sell a clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you ; ' and he bid me good mornin', and turned away. ' Father John I' says I. ' I can't stop,' says he. 'I must see that poor critter's family ; they must be in great trouble, and a sick visit is afore contravarsy in my creed.' * Well,' says I, ' one word with you afore I go ; if that 'are name. Popish priest, was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon ; I didn't mean no offence, I do assure you. And I'll say this for your satisfaction, too ; you're the first man in this Province that ever gave me a raal right-down, complete checkmate since I first sot foot on it, I'll be skinned if you ain't.* " Yes," said Mr. Slick, " Father John was right ; these anta- gonising chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft on 'em. It fairly makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a-backin' up of their own man. * At it agin,' says one ; ' ' Fair play,' sayis another ; ' Stick it into him,' says a third ; and ' That's your sort,' says a fourth. Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit it fairly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up an eend to see ministers do that 'are. // appears to me that I coulA write a book in favour of myself and my notions without writin' agin anyone^ and if I couldnH I wouldnU write at ally I snore. Our old minister, Mr. Hopewell (a raal good man, and a lamed man too that), they sent to him once to write agin' the Unitarians, for they are goin' ahead like statiee in New England, but he refused. Said he, * Sam,' says he, * when I first went to Cambridge there was a boxer and wrastler came there, and he beat everyone wherever he went. Well, old Mr. Possit was the Church of England parson to Charlestown at the time, and a terrible powerful man he was — a raal sneezer, and as active as a weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town, a-takin' of his evenin' walk, and said he, * Parson,' says he, ' they say you are a most plaguy strong man, and uncommon stiff too. Now,' says he, ' I never see'd a man yet that was a match for me ; would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your strength here in a friendly way, ,by ourselves, where no soul would be the wiser ; if you will I'll keep dark about it, I swan.' * Go your way,' said the parson, 'and tempt me not ; you are a carnal -minded, wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain, idle sports.' 'Very well,' said the boxer ; ' now here I stand,' says he, ' in the path, right slap afore you. If you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeerd on me ; and if you keep the path, why then you must put me out.' The parson jist made a spring forrard, and kicked him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the FATHER JOHN O'SHAUGHNESSY 91 V* * W" broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin' had happened -a — as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. ' Stop,' says the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up — 'stop, Parson,' said he, 'that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you, for, I swan, I believe you could do one near about as easy as t'other. My !' said he, ' if that don't bang the bush ; you are another guess chap from what I took you to be, anyhow.' " ' Now,' said Mr. Hopewell, says he, * I won't write, but if 'are a Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer ; for writirC only aggravates your opponents^ and never convinces them. I never se^d a convart made by that way yet; but Fit tell you what I have se(?d: a man set his own flock a-doubtin^ by his own writin\ You may happify your inemies, cantankerate your opponents^ and injure your own cause by it^ but I defy you to sarve it. These writers,' said he, ' put me in mind of that 'are boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar ; well, they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin' and jokin', all in good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow ; well, t'other would return it in aimest. " Oh," say? the other, " if that's your play, off gloves and at it." And sure enough, away would fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail. *• ' No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to think Scriptui-' intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. Look at that 'are Dives, they say, what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice with Lazarus ; and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that them folks will find it as easy to go to heaven as for a camel to go through the eye of a needle ? Well, then, the rich think it all made for the poor — that they sharn't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to them that's in authority. And as for them 'are Unitarians ' (and he alwavs got his dander up when he spoke of them), ' why, there's no doin nothin' with them,' says he. * When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over nor get round, why, they say, " It an't hi our varsion at all. That's an intarpolation ; it's an invention oflhem 'are everlastin' monks." There's nothin' left for you to do with them, but sarve them as Parson Posset detailed the boxer — lay right hold of 'em and chuck 'em over the ' fence, even if they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such out- landish place, for they ain't fit to live in no Christian country at all. t- " ' Fightin' is no way to make convarts ; the true way is to win *em. You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, 'by crammin' a book down his throat, but you won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all covered over with Latin and Greek and 93 THE CLOCKMAKER Hebrew, like a bridle that's raal jam, all spangled with brass nails ; but who knows whether it's right or wrong ? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and wam't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do : I'd jist ask myself. Who leads the best lives ? Now,' says he, ' Sam, I won't say who do, because it would look like vanity to say it was the folks who hold to our platform ; but I'll tell you who don't. It aiti t them that makes the greatest professions always; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a-tradin' with your clocks away down east to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look-out on them as cant too much,/e is she'll act ugly, I do suppose.' I had heerd tell of her afore ; >' jw she used to carry a stiff upper lip, and make '■'ii 94 THE CLOCKMAKER him and the broomstick well acquainted together; and says t, * Why do you put up with her tantrums ? I'd make a fair division of the house with her if it was me ; I'd take the inside and allocate her the outside of it, pretty quick, that's a fact.' Well, when we came to the house there was no light in it, and the poor critter looked so streaked and down in the mouth, I felt proper sorry for him. When he rapped at the door, she called out, ' Who's there ?' * It's me, dear,' says Porter. * You is it,' says she ; * then you may stay where you be ; them as gave you your supper may give you your bed, instead of sendin' you sneakin' home at night like a thief.* Said I, in a whisper, says I, ' Leave her to me, John Porter — jist take the horses up to the barn, and see arter them, and I'll manage her for you ; I'll make her as sweet as sugary candy, never fear.* The barn, you see, is a good piece off to the eastward of the house, and as soon as he was cleverly out of hearin', says 1, a-imitatin' of his voice to the life, * Do let me in, Jane,' says I, ' that's a dear critter ; I've brought you home some things you'll like, I know.* Well, she was an awful jealous critter. Says she, * Take 'em to her you spent the evenin' with ; I don't want you nor your presents neither.' Arter a good deal of coaxin', I stood on t'other tack, and began to threaten to break the door down. Says I, * You old unhan'sum-lookin' sinner you, you vinerger-cruet you, open the door this minitor I'll smash it right in.* That grigged her properly, it made her very wrathy (for nothin' sets up a woman's spunk like callin' her ugly. She gets her back right up like a cat when a strange dog comes near her ; she's all eyes, claws, and bristles). " I heerd her bounce right out of bed, and she came to the door as she was, ondressed, and onbolted it ; and as I entered it, she fetched me a box right across my cheek with the flat of her hand, that made it tingle agin. ' I'll teach you to call names agin,* says she, ' you varmint ! ' It was jist what I wanted. I pushed the door to with my foot, and seizin' her by the arm with one hand, I quilted her with the horsewliip raal han'sum with the other. At first she roared like mad. ' I'll give you the ten commandments,' say she (meaning her ten claws); ' I'll pay you for this, you cowardly villain, to strike a woman. How dare you lift your hand, John Porter, to your lawful wife ? ' and so on ; all the time runnin' round and round like a colt that's a-breakin', with the mouthin' bit, rarein', kickin', and plungin' like statiee. Then she began to give in. Says she, * I beg pardon, on my knees I beg pardon ! Don't murder me, for Heaven's sake — don't, dear John, don't murder your poor wife, that's a dear. I'll do as you bid me. I promise to behave well, upon my honour, I do. Oh, dear John, do forgive me ; do, dear ! ' When I had brought her properly to, for havin' nothin* on but a thin onder garment, every crack of the whip told like a notch on a baker's tally. Says I, * Take that as a taste of what you'll catch when you act that way like old Scratch. Now, go and dress yourself, and get supper for me and a stranger I have brought home along TAMING A SHREW 9S in. er with me, and be quick, for I vow I'll be master in my own house.' She moaned like a dog hit with a stone, half whine, half yelp. ' Dear, dear,' says she, ' if I ain't all covered over with welts as big as my finger. I do believe I'm flayed alive ; ' and she boo-hood out like anything. * I guess,' said I, * you've got 'em where folks won't see 'em, anyhow, and I calculate you won't be over forrard to show 'em where they be. But come,* says I, ' be a-stirrin', or I'll quilt you agin as sure as you're alive. I'll tan your hide for you, you may depend, you old, ungainly-tempered heifer you.' " When I went to the barn, says I, ' John Porter, your wife made right at me, like one ravin', distracted mad, when I opened the door, thinkin' it was you ; and I was obliged to give her a crack or two of the cowskin to get clear of her. It has effectuated a cure completely ; now foller it up, and don't let on for your life it warn't you that did it, and you'll be master once more in your own house. She's all docility just now ; keep her so,' As we returned we saw a light in the keepin' room ; the fire was blazin' up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk as a parched pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no time. As soon as she took her seat and sat down, she sprung up right on eend, as if she sot on a pan of hot coals, and coloured all over, and' then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, ' I calculate I wrote that 'are lesson in large letters, anyhow, I can read that writin' without spellin', and no mistake ; I guess you've got pretty well warmed thereabouts this hitch.' Then she tried it agin. First she sot on one leg, then on t'other, quite oneasy, and then right atwixt both, a-fidgetin' about dreadfully, like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost a little leather on the way. If you had see'd how she stared at Porter, it would have made you snicker. She couldn't credit her eyes. He warn't drunk, and he warn't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as meechin' as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at his rebellion. The next day, when I was about startin', I advised him to act like a man, and keep the weather gage now he had it, and all would be well ; but the poor critter only held on a day or two. She soon got the upper hand of him, and made him confess all; and by all accounts, he leads a worse life now than ever. I put that 'are trick on him jist now to try him, and I see its gone goose with him. The jig is up with him; she'll soon call him with a whistle like a dog. I often think of the hornpipe she danced there in the dark along with me, to the music of my whip— she touched it off in great style; that's a fact. I shall mind that go one while, I promise you. It was actilly equal to a play at Old Bowry. You may depend. Squire, the only way to tame a shrew is by the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all along the coast of Kent in Old England, and he used to say there was an old sayin' there, which, I expect, is not far off the mark : "* A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, ""'-.. The more you lick 'em the better they be. '" 96 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XXVI THE minister's HORN MUO ** This country," says Mr. Slick, " abounds in superior mill privi- leges, and one would naterally calculate that such a sight of water-power would have led to a knowledge of machinery. I guess, if a blue-nose was to go to one of our free and enlightened citizens, and tell him Nova Scotia was intersected with rivers and brooks in all directions, and nearly one-quarter of it covered with water, he'd say, ' Well, I'll start right on and see it, I vow, for I guess I'll larn somethin'. I allot I'll get another wrinkle away down east there. With such splendid chances for experimentin*, what first-chop mills they must have to a sartainty. I'll see such new combinations, and such new applications of the force of water to motion, that I'll make my fortin' ; for we can improve on any- thing.' Well, he'd find his mistake out, I guess, as I did once, when I took passage in the night to New York for Providence, and found myself the next mornin' clean out to sea, steerin' away for Cape Hatteras, in the Charleston steamen He'd find he'd gone to the wrong place, I reckon. There ain't a mill of any kind in the Province fit to be seen. If we had 'em, we'd sarve 'em as we do the gamblin'-houses down south : pull 'em right down. There wouldn't be one on 'em left in eight-and-forty hours. " Some domestic factories they ought to have here ; it's an essential part of the social system. Now, we've run to t'other extreme ; it's got to be too big an interest with us, and ain't suited to the political institutions of our great country. Natur* designed us for agricultural people, and our government was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin', orchardin', farmin', and what not. One evenin' I was up to his house, and says he, * Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my own genuine cider? I guess I got some that will take the shine off of your father's, by a long chalk, much as the old gentleman brags of his'n. I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that ; and, Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride at the expense of humblin' his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for I'd as lives he'd think so as not.' He was a raal primi//W, good man, was minister. * I got some,' said he, * that was bottled that very year that glorious action was fought atween the Constitution and the Guerriire, Perhaps ihe whole world couldn't show such a brilliant whippin' as that was. It was a splendid deed ; that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airth, and we can whip the British. It \ -- .1 i'ft: ' -^ . -? THE MINISTER'S HORN MUG 97 was a bright promise for our young eagle — a noble bird that, too- great strength, great courage, and surpassing sagacity.' " Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle with a stick tied to its neck, and day and date to it, like the lye-bills on the trees in Squire Hendrick's garden. ' I like to see them 'are cobwebs,' said he, as he brushed 'em off ; ' they are like grey hairs in an old man's head ; they indicate venerable old a^e.' As he uncorked it, says he, ' I guess, Sam, this will warm your gizzard, my boy. I guess our great nation may be stumped to produce more eleganter liquor than this here. It's the dandy ; tliat's a fact. That,' said he, a-smackin' of his lips, and lookin' at its sparklin' top, and layin' back his head, and tippin' off a horn mug full of it — •that,' said he — and his eyes twinkled agin, for it was plaguy strong — * that is the produce of my own orchard.' ' Well,' I said, ' minister,' says I, * I never see you a-swiggin' it out of that 'are horn mug, that I don't think of one of your texts.' * What's that, Sam ? ' says he ; ' for you always had a'most a special memory when you was a boy.' *Why,' says I, * that the horn of the righteous man shall be exalted. I guess that's what they mean by "exaltin' the horn," ain't it ? * Lord ! if ever you was to New OrUens^ and see'd a black thunder-cloud rise right up and cover the whole sky in a minit, you'd 'a thought of it if you had see'd his face. It looked as dark as Egypt. ' For shame I ' says he. ' Sam, that's ondecent. And let me tell you, that a man that jokes on such subjects shows both a lack of wit and sense too. I like mirth — you know I do — for it's only the Pharisees and hypocrites that wear long faces ; but then mirth must be innocent to please me ; and when I see a man make merry with serious things, I set him down as a lost sheep. That comes of your speculatin' to Lowell ; and I vow them factorin' towns will corrupt our youth of both sexes, and become hot-beds of iniquity. Evil communications endamnify good manners, as sure as rates ; one scabby sheep will infect a whole flock. Vice is as catchin' as that nasty disease the Scotch have ; it's got by a shakin' of hands, and both eend in the same way in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin' further for us ; it don't suit us or our institutions. A republic is only calcu- lated for an enlightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin' line. This is an innocent and happy vocation. Agriculture was ordained by Him that made us, for our chief occupation.' " Thinks I, * Here's a pretty how-do-you-do. I'm in for it now ; that's a fact. He'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon ; and he knows so many by heart, he'll never stop. It would take a Phila- delphia lawyer to answer him. So says I, ' Minister, I ax your pardon. I feel very ugly at havin' given you offence ; but I didn't mean it, I do assure you. It jist popt out onexpectedly, like a cork out of one of them 'are cider bottles. I'll do my possible that the like don't happen agin, you may depend So s'pose we drink a <^l i i i 98 THE CLOCKMAKER glass to our reconciliation.' ' That I will,* said he ; 'and we will have another bottle too. But I must put a little water into my glass * (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me quite feelin', as much as to say, * Don't, for goodness sake, mike use of that 'are word horn agin, for it's a joke I don't like '), ' for my head han't quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, Sam !' said he, a-openin' of another bottle. * It's of the same age as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped sometimes to say which is best. " ' These are the pleasures,' says he, * of a country life. A man's own labour provides him with food, and an appetite to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, His wisdom. His power, and His majesty. There never was anything so true as that 'are old sayin' : "Man made the town, but God made the country," and both bespeak their different architects in terms too plain to be misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue, and the^other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want ; one is a ware-duck of nice pure water, and t'other one a cesspool. Our towns are gettin' so commercial and factorin' that they will soon generate mobs, Sam ' — (How true that 'are has turned out, ain't it ? He could see near about as far into a millstone as them that picks the hole into it) — * and mobs will introduce disobedience and defiance to laws, and that must eend in anarchy and bloodshed. No,' said the old man, a-raisin' of his voice, and givin' the table a wipe with his fist that made the glasses all jingle agin ; 'give me the country — that country to which He that made it said, " Bring forth grass, the herb yieldin' seed, and the tree yieldin' fruit," and who saw that it was f>ooJ. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin' — (I hope you get up early now, Sam. When you was a boy, there was no gettin' you out of bed at no rate) — and at sunset in the hymns which they utter in full tide of song to their Creator. Let me pour out the thankfulness of my heart to the Giver of all good things for the numerous blessin's I enjoy, and entreat Him to bless my increase, that I may have wherewithal to relieve the wants of others as He prevents and relieves mine. No ; give me the country ! It's — ' Minister was jist like a horse that has the spavin' : he sot off considerable stiff at first, but when he got once under weigh he got on like a house a-fire. He went like the wind, full split. " He was jist beginnin' to warm on the subject, and I knew if he did what wonderful bottom he had ; he would hang on for ever a'most. So says I, * I think so too, minister. I like the country ; I always sleep better there than in towns. It an't so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither ; and then it's a pleasant thing to set out on the stoop, and smoke in the cool, ain't it ? I think,' says I * too, minister, that 'are uncommon handsum cider of your'n desarves a pipe. What do you think ? ' * Well,' says he, * I think myself a THE MINISTER'S HORN MUG 99 try; hot, t on too, es a ilf a € pipe wouldn't be amiss ; and I got some raal good Varginy as you e'en a'most ever see'd — a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum— and none the worse to my palate, Sam, for bringin' bygone recollections with it.' 'Phoebe, my dear,' said he to his darter, ' bring the pipes and tobacco.' As soon as the old gentle- man fairly got a pipe in his mouth, I gives Phctbe a wink, as much as to say, ' Warn't that well done ? That's what I call a most Eartikilar handsum fix. He can talk now— and ihaX I do like to ear him do ; but he can't make a speech, or preach a sarmon — and that / don^t like to hear him do, except on Sabbath day, or up to Town Hall on oration times.' " Minister was an oncommon pleasant man (for there was nothin' a'most he didn't know), except when he got his dander up, and then he did spin out his yarns for everlastingly. " But I'm of his opinion. If the folks here want their country to go ahead, they must honour the plough ; and Gineral Campbell ought to hammer that 'are into their noddles, full chisel, as hard as he can drive. I could larn him somcthin', I guess, about ham- merin' he ain't up to. It an't everyone that knows how to beat a thing into a man's head. How could I have sold so many thousan' clocks if I hadn't 'a had that knack ? Why, I wouldn't have sold half a dozen, you may depend. " Agricultui-* is not only neglected, but degraded here. What a number of young folks there seem to be in these parts, a-ridin' about, titivated out raal jam, in their go-to-meeting clothes, a-doin' of nothin' 1 It's melancholy to think on it. That's the effect of the last war. The idleness and extravagance of those times took root, and bore fruit abundantly, and now the young people are above their business. They are too high in the instep ; that's a fact. " Old Drivvle, down here to Maccan, said to me one day : ' For gracious sake,' says he, ' Mr. Slick, do tell me what I shall do with Johnny ? His mother sets great store by him, and thinks he's the makin's of a considerable smart man. He's growin' up fast now, and I am pretty well to do in the world, and reasonable fore- handed ; but I don't know what the dojg^s to put him to. The lawyers are like spiders — they've eat up all the flies ; and I guess they'll have to eat each other soon, for there's more on 'em than causes now every court. The doctor's trade is a poor one, too ; they don't get barely cash enough to pay for their medicines. I never see'd a country practitioner yet that made anythin' worth speakin' of. Then, as for preachin', why, Church and dissenters are pretty much tarred with the same stick ; they live in the same pastur* with their flocks, and between 'em it's fed down pretty close, I tell you. What would you advise me to do with him?' * Well,* says I, * I'll tell you, if you won't be miffy with me.' ' Miffy with you, indeed,' said he ; * I guess I'll be very much obliged to you. It an't every day one gets a chance to consult with a person of your experience ; I count it quite a privilege to have the opinion !|j 1 •K 100 THE CLOCKMAKBR of such an onderstandin' man as you be.' * Well,' says I, *take a stick and give him a raal goud quilt in' ; jist tantune him like blazes, and set him to work. What does the critter want ? You have a good farm for him ; let him go and aim his bread, and when he can raise that, let him get a wife to make butter for it ; and when he has more of both than he wants, let him sell 'em, and lay up his money, and he will soon have his bread buttered on both sides. Put him to, eh ? Why, put him to the Plough — the most nateral, the most happy^ the nic^t innocent^ and the most healthy employment in the worlds ' But,' said the old man, and he did not look over half-pleased, * markets arc so confounded dull, labour so high, and the banks and great folks a-swallerin' all up so, there don't seem much encouragement for farmers ; it's hard rubbin' nowadays to live by the plough. He'll be a hard-workin' poor man all his days.* * Oh I ' says I, * if he wants to get rich by farmin', he can do that too. Let him sell his wheat, and eat his oatmeal and rye ; send his beef, mutton, and poultry to market, and eat his pork and potatoes ; make his own cloth ; weave his own linen, and keep out of shops, and he'll soon grow rich. There are more fortin's got by savin' than by makin', I guess, a plaguy sight. He can't eat his cake and have it too ; that's a fact. No ; make a farmer of him, and you will have the satisfaction ofseein^ him an honest, an independent, and a respectable member of society — more honest than traders, more independent than professional men, and more respectable than either.' " * Ahem 1 ' says Marm Drivvle, and she began to clear her throat for action. She slumped down her knittin', and clawed off her spectacles, and looked right straight at me so as to take good aim. I see'd a regular nor'-wester a-brewin'. I knew it would bust somewhere sartan, and make all smoke agin ; so I cleared out, and left old Drivvle to stand the squall. I conceit he must have had a tempestical time of it, for she had got her Ebenezer up, and looked like a proper sneezer. Make her Johnny a farmer, eh ? I guess that was too much for the like o' her to stomach. ''^ Pride, Squire," continued the Clockmaker, with such an air of concern that I verily believe the man feels an interest in the welfare of a Province in which he has spent so long a time — ^^pride^ Squire — and a false pride, too — is the ruin of this country j J hope I may be skinned if it an' t J' *\,. • CHAPTER XXVIl THE WHITE NIGGER One of the most amiable, and at the same time most amusing, traits in the Clockmaker's character was the attachment and kind- THE WHITE NIGGER lOI ,/ ness with which he regarded his horse. He considered Old Clay as far above a provincial horse as he did one of his '* free and enlightened citizens" superior to a blue-nose. He treated him as a traveilinij companion, and vhen conversation flagged between us, would often soliloquize lo him— a habit contracted from pursu- ing his journc •=: alone, *' Well now," he would say, *' Old Clay, I guess you took y nr time a-g(jin' up that 'are hill. S'pose we pro- gress now. Go alon>^, you old sculpin', and turn out your toes ! I reckon you are as deff as a shad. Do you hear there ? Go ahead, Old Clay !" "There now," he'd say, " Squire, ain't that dreadful )retty? There's action 1 That looks about right. Legs all onder lim ; gathers all up snug ; no bobbin' of his head ; no roUin' of lis shoulders ; no wabblin' of his hind parts, but steady as a pump )olt, and the motion ail onderneath. When he fairly lays himself to it, he trots like all vengeance. Then look at his ears 1 — jist like rabbits. None o' your flop ears, like them Amherst beasts — half- horses, half- pigs ; but straight up and pincted, and not too near at the tips — for that 'are, I concait, always shows a horse ain't true to draw. There are only two thini^s^ Squire^ worth lookM at in a horse : action and soundness, for I never sec'd a critter that had good action that was a bad beast. Old Clay puts me in mind of one of our free and enli — " " Excuse me," said I, " Mr. Slick ; but really you appropriate that word 'free' to your countrymen, as if you thought no other Eeople in the world were entitled to it but yourselves." " Neither e they," said he. " We first sot the example. Look at our De- claration of Independence ! It was writ by Jefferson, and he was the first man of the age ; perhaps the world never see'd his ditto. It's a beautiful piece of penmanship that. He gave the British the butt eend of his mind there. I calculate you couldn't fault it in no particular. It's ginerally allowed to be his cap shief. In the first gage of it, second section, and first vaise, are these words : * We old this truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.* I guess King George turned his quid when he read that. It was somethin' to chaw on he hadn't been used to the flavour of, I reckon." " Jefferson forgot to insert one little word," said I. " He should have said *All white men,' for, as it now stands, it is a practical untruth in a country which tolerates domestic slavery in its worst and most forbidding form. It is a declaration oi shante^ and not of independence. It is as perfect a misnomer as ever I knew." " Well," said he, " I must admit there is a screw loose somewhere thereabouts, and I wish it would convene to Congress to do some- thin' or another about our niggers ; but I am not quite sartified how that is to be sot to rights. I concait that you don't under- stand us. But," said he, evading the subject with his usual dexterity, "we deal only in niggers — and those thick-skulled, crooked-shanked, flat-footed, long-heeled, woolly-headed gentle- 102 THE CLOCKMAKER men don't seem fit for much else but slavery, I do suppose ; they ain't fit to contrive for themselves. They are jist like grass- hoppers ; they dance and sing all summer, and when winter comes they have nothin' provided for it, and lay down and die. They require someone to see arter them. Now, we deal in black niggers only, but the blue-noses sell their own species ; they trade in white slaves." " Thank God," said I, " slavery does not exist in any part of His Majesty's dominions now ; we have at last wiped off" that national stain." " Not quite, I guess," said he, with an air of triumph ; " it an't done with in Nova Scotia, for I have see'd these human cattle sales with my own eyes. I was availed of the truth of it up here to old Furlong's last November. I'll tell you the story," said he. And as this story of the Clockmaker's con- tained some extraordinary statements which I had never heard of before, I noted it in my journal, for the purpose of ascertaining their truth, and, if founded on fact, of laying them before the proper authorities. " Last fall," said he, " I was on my way to Partridge Island, to ship off" some truck and produce I had taken in, in the way of trade ; and as I neared old Furlong's house I see'd an amazin* crowd of folks about the door. I said to myself, says I, 'Who's dead ? and what's to pay novr ? What on airth is the meaning of all this ? Is it a vandew, or a weddin', or a rollin' frolic, or a religious stir, or what is it?' Thinks I, ' I'll see.' So I hitches Old Clay to the fence, and walks in. It was some time afore I was able to swiggle my way thro' the crowd and get into the house ; and when I did, who should I see but Deacon Westfall — a smooth-faced, sleeked-haired, meechin'-lookin' chap as you'd see in a hundred — a-standin' on a stool, with an auctioneer's hammer in his hand ; and afore him was one Jerry Oaks and his wife, and two little orphan children, the prettiest little toads I ever beheld in all my bom days. * Gentlemen,' said he, * I will begin the sale by puttin' up Jerry Oaks, of Apple River. He's a considerable of a smart man yet, and can do many little chores besides feedin' the children and p'gs ; I guess he's near about worth his keep.' 'Will you warrant him sound, wind and limb ? ' says a tall, ragged-lookin' countryman ; ' for he looks to me as if he was foundered in both feet, and had a string halt into the bargain ? ' ' When you are as old as 1 be,' says Jerry, ' mayhap you may be foundered too, young man. I have seen the day when you wouldn't dare to pass that joke on me, big as you be.' ' Will any gentleman bid for him ? ' says the deacon. 'He's cheap at 7s. 6d.' 'Why, deacon,' said Jerry — 'why, surely your honour isn't a-goin' for to sell me separate from my poor old wife, are you ? Fifty years have we lived together as man and wife, and a good wife has she been to me through all my troubles and trials — and God knows I have had enough of them. No one knows my ways and my ailments but her : and who can tend me so kind, or who will bear with the ■'■ s THE WHITE NIGGER 103 complaints of a poor old man but his wife ? Do, deacon — and Heaven bless you for it, and yours — do sell us together. We have but a few days to live now ; death will divide us soon enough. Leave her to close my old eyes when the stru^tjle comes ; and when it comes to you, deacon, as come it must to us all, may this good deed rise up for you as a memorial before God. I wish it had pleased Him to have taken us af^re it came to this, but His will be done,* and he hung his head, as if he felt he bed drained the cup of degradation to its dregs. ' Can't afiord it, Jerry ; can't afford it, old man,' said the deacon, with such a smile as a November sun gives a-passin' atween clouds. ' Last year they took oats for rates ; now nothin' but wheat vyill go down, and that's as good as cash ; and you'll hang on, as most of you do, yet these many years. There's old Joe Crowe, I believe in my conscience he will live for ever.' The biddin' then went on, and he was sold for six shillings a week. Well, the poor critter gave one long, loud, deep groan, and then folded his arms over his breast so tight that he seemed tryin' to keep in his heart from bustin'. I pitied the misfortunate wretch from my soul ; I don't know as I ever felt so streaked afore. Not so his wile ; she was all tongue. She begged, and prayed, and cried, and scolded, and talked at the very tip eend of her voice, till she became — poor critter ! — exhausted, and went off in a faintin' fit ; and they ketched her up and carried her out to the air, and she was sold in that condition. " Well, I couldn't make head or tail of all this ; I could hardly believe my eyes and ears. So says I to John Porter (him that has that catamount of a wife that I had such a touss with) — 'John Porter,' says I, * who ever see'd or heerd tell of the like of this ? What onder the sun does it all mean ? What has that 'are critter done that he should be sold arter that fashion ? ' ' Done ? ' said he. * Why, nothin' ; and that's the reason they sell him. This is town-meetin' day, and we always sell the poor for the year to the lowest bidder. Them that will keep them for the lowest sum gets them.' 'Why,' says I, 'that feller that bought him is a pauper himself, to my sartin knowledge. If you were to take him up by the heels and shake him for a week, you couldn't shake sixpence out of him. How can he keep him ? It appears to me the poor buy the poor here, and that they all starve together.' Says I, * There was a very good man once lived to Liverpool ; so good, he said he hadn't sinned for seven years. Well, he put a mill-dam across the river, and stopt all the fish from goin' up, and the court fined him fifty pounds for it ; and this good man was so wrathy, he thought he should feel better to swear a little, but conscience told him it was wicked. So he compounded with conscience, and cheated the devil, by callin' it a "dam fine business." Now, friend Porter, if this is your poor-law, it is a damn poor law, I tell you ^ and no good can come of such hard-hearted doin's. It's no wonder your 104 THE CLOCKMAKER country don't prosper, for who ever heerd of a blessin' on such carryin's-on as this ?* Says I, ' Did you ever hear tell of a sartain rich man that had a beggar called Lazarus laid at his gate, and how the dogs had more compassion than he had, and came and licked his sores ? 'Cause if you have, look at that forehanded and 'sponsible man there, Deacon Westfall, and you see the rich man ; and then look at that 'are pauper, dragged away in that ox-cart from his wife for ever like a feller to States' Prison, and you see Lazarus. Recollect what foUered, John Porter, and have neither art nor part in it, as you are a Christian man.' " It fairly made me sick all day. John Porter follered me out of the house, and as I was a-turnin' Old Clay, said he, * Mr. Slick,' says he, ' I never see'd it in that 'are light afore, for it's our custom ; and custom, you know, will reconcile one to 'most anything. I must say it does appear, as you lay it out, an unfeelin way of pro- vidin' for the poor ; but as touchin' the matter of dividin' man and wife, why ' — and he peered all round to see that no one was within hearin' — ' why, I don't know, but if it was my allotment to be sold, I'd as lief they'd sell me separate from Jane as not, fcjr it appears to me it's about the best part of it.' " Now, what I have told you. Squire," said the Clockmaker, " is the truth ; and if members, instead of their everlastin' politics, would only look into these matters a little, I guess it would be far better for the country. So, as for our Declaration of Independence, I guess you needn't twit me with our slave-sales, for we deal only in blacks ; but blue-nose approbates no distinction in colours, and when reduced to poverty, is reduced to slavery, and is sold — a White Nigger," CHAPTER XXVIII ,v FIRE IN THE DAIRY As we approached within fifteen or twenty miles of Parrsboro*, a sudden turn of the road brought us direct in front of a large wooden house, consisting of two stories and an immense roof, the height of which edifice was much increased by a stone foundation rising several feet above ground. " Now, did you ever see," said Mr. Slick, " such a catamaran as that ? There's a proper goney for you ! for to go and raise such a buildin' as that 'are ; and he has as much use for it, I do suppose, as my old waggon here has for a fifth wheel. Blue-nose always takes keer to have a big house, 'cause it shov/s a big man, and one that's considerable forehanded, and pretty well-to-do in the world. These Nova Scotians turn up their blue-noses as a bottle-nose porpoise turns up his snout, and puff and snort exactly like him, at a small house. If neighbour %•*■■■■ FIRE IN THE DAIRY 105 Carrit has a two-storey house, all filled with winders like Sandy Hook Lighthouse, neighbour Parsnip must add jist two feet more on to the post of his'n, and about as much more to the rafter, to go ahead of him ; so all these long, scarce gentlemen strive who can get the furdest in the sky, away from their farms. In New England our maxim is a small house and a'most an everlastin' almighty big barn ; but these critters revarse it : they have little hovels for their cattle, about the bigness of a good sizable bear-trap, and a house for the humans as grand as Noah's Ark. Well, jist look at it, and see what a figur* it does cut ! An old hat stuffed into one pane of glass, and an old flannel petticoat as yaller as jaundice in another, finish off the front ; an old pair of breeches and the pad of a bran- new cart-saddle, worn out, titivate the eend ; while the backside is all closed up on account of the wind. When it rains, if there ain't a pretty how-do-you-do, it's a pity. Beds toated out of this room, and tubs set in t'other to catch soft water to wash ; while the clap- boards, loose at the eends, go clap, clap, clap like galls a-hacklin' flax, and the winders and doors keep a-dancin' to the music. The only dry place in the house is in the chimbley-corner, where the folks all huddle up, as an old hen and her chickens do under a cart of a wet day. * I wish I had the matter of half-a-dozen pound of nails,' you'll hear the old gentleman in the grand house say, ' I'll be darn'd if I don't ; for if I had, I'd fix them 'are clapboards. I guess they'll go for it some o' these days.' ' I wish you had,' his wife would say, * for they do make a most particular unhan'sum clatter ; that's a fact.' And so they let it be to the next tempestical time comes, and then they wish agin. Now, this grand house has only two rooms downstairs that are altogether slicked up, and finished off complete ; the other is jist petitioned off rough-like, one half great dark entries, and t'other half places that look a plaguy sight more like packin'-boxes than rooms. Well, all upstairs is a great Oh Garnished place, filled with every sort of good-for-nothin' trumpery in natur* — barrels without eends, com cobs half-husked, cast-off clothes and bits of old harness, sheep skins, hides and wool, apples, one half rotten and t'other half squashed ; a thousand or two of shingles that have bust their withs, and broke loose all over the floor ; hay-rakes, forks, and sickles without handles or teeth ; rusty scythes, and odds and eends without number. When anything is wanted, then there is a general overhaul of the whole cargo, and away they get shifted forrard, one by one, all handled over and chucked into a heap together till the lost one is found ; and the next time, away they get pitched to the starn agin, higglety-pigglety, heels over head, like sheep takin' a split for it over a wall, only they increase in number each move, 'cause some of 'em are sure to get broke into more pieces than they was afore. W^henever I see one of these grand houses, and a hat lookin' out o' the winder with nary head m it, thinks I, * Til be darned if that's a place for a wooden clock. 4 ■ ; 1^ ,i,V. io6 THE CLOCKMAKER x,^ Nothin' short of a London touch would go down with them folks, so I calculate I won't alight.' "Whenever you come to such a grand place as this, Squire, depend on't, the farm is all of a piece — great crops of thistles, and an everlastin* yield of weeds, and cattle the best fed of any in the country (for they are always in the grain fields or mowin' lands), and the pigs a-rootin' in tiie potato patches. A spic-and- span new gig at the door, shinin' like the mud banks of Windsor when the sun's on 'em, and an old rack of a hay waggin, with its tongue onhitched, and stickin' out behind like a jpig's tail, all indi- cate a big man. He's above thinkin' of farmin tools ; he sees to the bran'-new gig, and the hired helps look arter the carts. Catch him with his go to-meetin' clothes on, a-rubbin' agin their nasty greasy axles like a tarry nigger I Not he, indeed j he'd stick you up with it. " The last time I came by here it was a little bit arter daylight down, rainin' cats and dogs, and as dark as Egypt ; so thinks I, * I'll jist turn in here for shelter to Squire Bill Blake's.' Well, I knocks away at the front door till I thought I'd split it in ; but arter rappin' awhile to no purpose, and findin' no one come, I gropes my way round to the back door, and opens it, and feelin' all along the partition for the latch of the keepin'-room without findin' it, I knocks agin, when someone from inside calls out, * Walk ! ' Thinks I, ' I don't cleverly know whether that indicates "walk in" or "walk out" ; it's plaguy short metre ; that's a fact. But I'll see, anyhow.' Well, arter gropin' about awhile, at last I got hold of the string, and lifted the latch and walked in, and there sot old Marm Blake, close into one corner of the chimbley fireplace, a-see-sawin' in a rockin'-chair, and a half-grown black house-help half-asleep in t'other corner, a-scroudgin' up over the embers. ' Who be you ? ' said Marm Blake ; ' for I can't see you.' * A stranger,' said I. ' Beck,' says she, speaking to the black heifer in the corner — * Beck,' says she agin, raisin' her voice, * I believe you are as deflf as a post. Get up this minit, and stir the coals, till I see the man.' Arter the coals were stirred into a blaz2, the old lady surveyed me from head to foot ; then she axed me my name, and where I came from, where I was a-goin', and what my business was. ' I guess,' says she, 'you must be reasonable wet. Sit to the fire and dry yourself, or mayhap your health may be endamnified p'raps.' " So I sot down, and we soon got pretty considerably well acquainted and quite sociable-like ; and her tongue, when |t fairly waked up, began to run like a mill race when the gate's up. I hadn't been talkin' long 'fore I well-nigh lost sight of her altogether agin, for little Beck began to flourish about her broom, right and left in great style, a-clearin' up, and she did raise such an awful thick cloud o' dust, I didn't know if I should ever see or breathe either agin. Well, when all was sot to rights, and the fire made up, the old lady I FIRE IN THE DAIRY 107 .^.f aze. began to apologise for having no candles. She said she'd had a grand tea-party the night afore, and used them all up, and a whole sight of vittals too ; the old man hadn't been well since, and had gone to bed airly. ' But,' says she, ' I do wish with all my heart you had 'a come last night, for we had a most special supper — punkin-pies and dough-nuts, and apple-sarce, and a roast ^,foose stuffed with Indian puddin', and a pig's harslet stewed in molasses and onions, and I don't know what all ; and the fore part of to-day folks called to finish. I actilly have nothin' left to set afore you ; for it was none o' your skim-milk parties, but superfine uppercrust raal jam, and we made clean work of it. But I'll make some tea, anyhow, for you ; and perhaps after that,' said she, alterin' of her tone — ' perhaps you'll expound the Scriptures, for it's one while since I've heerd them laid open powerfully. I han't been fairly lifted up since that good man Judas Oglethorp travelled this road,' and then she gave a groan, and hung down her head, and looked corner-ways to see how the land lay thereabouts. The tea-kettle was accordingly put on, and some lard fried into oil and poured into a tumbler, which, with the aid of an inch of cotton- wick, served as a makeshift for a candle. " Well, arter tea we sot and chatted awhile about fashions, and markets, and sarmons, and scandal, and all sorts o' things : and in the midst of it in runs the nigger wench, screemin' out at the tip- eend of her voice : * Oh, missus, missus ! there's fire in the dairy ! Fire in the dairy ! ' * I'll give it to you for that,' said the old lady ; ' I'll give it to you for that, you good-for-nothin' hussy. That's all your carelessness. Go and put it out this minit. How on airth did it get there ? My night milk's gone, I dare say. Run this minit and put it out, and save the milk i ' I am dreadful afeard of fire ; I always was, from a boy ; and seein' the poor, foolish critter seize a broom in her fright, I ups with the tea-kettle and follows her, and away we dipt thro' the entry, she callin' out ' Mind the cellar-door on the right 1 ' ' Take kear of the clo's-horse on the left ! ' and so on ; but as I couldn' see nothin', I kept right straight ahead. At last my foot kotched in somethin' or another that pitched me somewhat less than a rod or so, right agin the poor black critter, and away we went heels over head. I heerd a splash and a groan, and I smelt somethin' plaguy sour, but couldn't see nothin'. At last I got hold of her, and lifted her up (for she didn't scream, but made a strange kind of choakin' noise), and by this time up came Marm Blake with a light. If poor Beck didn't let go then in airnest, and sing out for dear life, it's a pity ; for she had gone head first into the swill-tub, and the tea-kettle had scalded her feet. She kept a-dancin' right up and down like one ravin', distracted mad, and boo-hooed like anythincr, clawin' away at her head the whole time to clear away the stuff that stuck to her wool. "I held in as long as I could, till I thought I should have li 11 io8 THE CLOCKMAKER busted (for no soul could help a-larfin'), and at last I haw-hawed right out. ' You good-for-nothin', stupid slut, you ! ' said the old lady to poor Beck. * It sarves you right ; you had no business to leave it there. I'll pay you.' * But,' said I, interferin' for ihe un- fortunate critter, 'good gracious,,marm ! you forget the fire.' * No, I don't,' said she ; ' I see him ! ' and seizin' the broom that had fallen from the nigger's hand, she exclaimed, * I see him ! the nasty varmint ! ' and began to belabour most onmercifully a poor, half-starved cur that-the noise had attracted to the entry. ' I'll teach you,' said she, * to drink milk ; I'll lam you to steal into the dairy,' and the besot critter joined chorus with Beck, and they both yelled together till they fairly made the house ring agin. Presently old Squire Blake popt his head out of a door, and rubbin' his eyes, half-*asleep and half-awake, said, 'What's the devil to pay now, wife ? ' ' Why, nothin',' says she ; ' only Fir^s in the dairy ^ and Beck's in the swill-tub, that's all.' 'Well, don't make such a touss, then,' said he, ' if that's all,' and he shut-to the door, and went to bed agin. When we returned to the keepin'- room, the old lady told me that they always had had a dog called Fire ever since her grandfather, Major Donald Eraser's time. 'And what was very odd,' says she, 'everyone on' 'em would drink milk if he had a chance.' " By this time the shower was over, and the moon shinin' so bright and clear, that I thought I'd better be up and stirrin' ; and arter slippin' a few cents into the poor nigger wench's hand, I took leave of the grand folks in the big house. Now, Squire, among these middlin'-sized farmers you may lay this down as a rule : The bigger the house, the bigger the fools be thafs in it. " But, howsomever, I never call to mind that 'are go in the big house up to the right that I don't snicker when I think of Fire in the dairy!* CHAPTER XXIX A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD " I ALLOT you had ought to visit our great country. Squire," said the Clockmaker, "afore you quit for good and all. I calculate you don't understand us. The most splendid location atween the Poles is the United States, and the first man alive is Gineral Jackson, the hero of the age, him that skeered the British out of their seven senses. Then there's the great Daniel Weh lc^, it's generally allowed he's the greatest orator on the face of i..& airth, by a long chalk ; and Mr. Van Buren, and Mr. Clay, and Amos Kindle, and Judge White, and a whole raft of statesmen, up to everything, and all manner of politics ; there ain't the beat of 'em A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD 109 big said ilate the eral It of it's rth, ■mos to 'em to be found anywhere. If you was to hear 'em, I concait you'd hear genuine pure English for once, anyhow ; for it's generally allowed we speak English better than the British. They all know me to be an American citizen here by my talk, for we speak it complete in New England. " Yes, if you want to see a free people— them that makes their own laws, accordin' to their own notions — go to the States. Indeed, if you can fault them at all, they are a little grain too free. Our folks have their heads a trifle too much sometimes, particularly in elections, both in freedom of speech and freedom of press. One hadn't ought to blart right out always all that comes uppermost. A horse that's too free frets himself and his rider too, and both on 'em lose flesh in the long run. I'd e'en almost as lief use the whip sometimes as to be for everlastingly a-pullin' at the rein. One's arm gets plaguy tired ; that's a fact. I often think of a lesson I lamt Jehiel Quirk once for lettin' his tongue outrun his good manners. " I was down to Rhode Island one summer to larn gildin' and bronzin', so as to give the finishin' touch to my clocks. Well, the folks elected me a hogreave, jist to poke fun at me ; and Mr. Jehiel, a bean-pole of a lawyer, was at the bottom of it. So one day, up to Town Hall, where there was an oration to be delivered on our Independence, jist afore the orator commenced, in runs Jehiel irf a most all-fired hurry, and says he, * I wonder,' says he, * if there's 'are a hogreave here ; because if there be, I require a turn of his office.' And then says he, a-lookin' up to me, and callin' out at the tip-eend of his voice, * Mr. Hogreave Slick,' said he, ' here's a job out here for you.' Folks snickered a good deal, and I felt my spunk a-risin' like half-flood, that's a fact ; but I bit in my breath, and spoke quite cool. ' Possible ?' says I. ' Well, duty, I do suppose, must be done, though it an't the most agree- able in the world. I've been a-thinkin',' says I, * that I would be liable to a fine of fifty cents for sufferin' a hog to run at large ; and as you are the biggest one, I presume, in all Rhode Island, I'll jist begin by ringin' your nose, to prevent you from the future from pokin' your snout where you hadn't ought to,' and I seized him by the nose, and nearly wrung it off. Well, you never heerd sich a shoutin' and clappin' of hands and cheerin' in your life ; they haw- hawed like thunder. Says I, * Jehiel Quirk-, that was a superb joke of your'n. How you made the folks larf, didn't you ? You are e'en a'most the wittiest critter I ever see'd. I guess you'll mind your parts o' speech, and study the accidence agin, afore you let your clapper run arter that fashion, won't you V " " I thought," said I, " that among your Republicans there were no gradations of rank or office, and that all were equal — the hogreave and the governor, the judge and the crier, the master and his servant ; and although from the nature of things more power might be entrusted to one than the other, yet that the rank 4i n lid THE CLOCKMAKER of all was precisely the same." " Well," said he, ** it is so in theory, but not always in practice ; and when we do prac//j^ it, it seems to go a little agin the grain, as if it warn't quite ri_,ht neither. When I v/as last to Baltimore, there was a Court there, and Chief Justice Marshall was detailed there for duty. Well, with us in New England the sheriff attends the judge to court, and says I to the Sheriff, ' Why don't you escort that 'are vener- able old judge to the State House ? He's a credit to our nation, that man. He's actilly the first pothook on the crane ; the whole weight is on him. If it warn't for him, the fat would be in the fire in no time. I wonder you don't show him that respect. It wouldn't hurt you one morsel, I guess.' Says he, quite miffy-like, * Don't he know the way to court as well as I do ? If I thought he didn't, I'd send one of my niggers to show him the road. I wonder who was his lackey last year, that he wants me to be his'n this time. It don't convene to one of our free and enlightened citizens to tag arter any man, that's a fact ; it's too English and too foreign for our glorious institutions. He's bound by law to be there at ten o'clock, and so be I ; and we both know the way there, I reckon.' " I told the story to our minister, Mr. Hopewell (and he has some odd notions about him, that man, though he don't always let out what he thinks). Says he, *Sam, that was in bad taste' — a great phrase of the old gentleman's that — 'in bad taste, Sam. That 'are Sheriff was a goney. Don't cut your cloth arter his pattern, or your garment won't become you, I tell you. We are too enlightened to worship our fellow-citizens as the ancients did, but we ought to pay great respect to vartue and exalted talents in this life ; and arter their death there should be statues of eminent men placed in our national temples, for the veneration of arter ages, and public ceremonies performed annually to their honour. Arter all, Sam,' said he, and he made a considerable of a long pause, as if he was dubersome whether he ought to speak out or not — 'arter all, Sam,' said he, 'atween ourselves — but you must not let on I said so, for the fulness of time han't yet come — half a yard of blue ribbon is a plaguy cheap way of rewardin' merit, as the English do ; and although we larf at 'em (for folks always will larf at what they han't got, and never can get), yet titles ain't bad things as objects of ambition, are they ? ' Then, tappin' me on the shoulder, and lookin' up and smilin' as he always did when he was pleased with an idee : ' "Sir Samuel Slick" would not sound bad, I guess, would it, Sam ? " * When I look at the English House of Lords,' said he, * and see so much laming, piety, talent, honour, vartue, and refinement collected together, I ax myself this here question, " Can a system which produces and sustains such a body of men as the world never saw before, and never will see agin, be defective?" Well, I answer myself, " Perhaps it is, for all human institutions are so ; -^'m .' :(■■ A BODY WITHOUT A HEAD tn but I guess it's e'en about the best, arter all." It wouldn't do here now, Sam, nor perhaps for a century to come ; but it will come sooner or later, with some variations. Now, the Newtown pippin', when transplanted to England, don't produce such fruit as it does in Long Island ; and English fruits don't presarve their flavour here, neither. Allowance must be made for difference of soil and climate.' ('Oh, Lord I' thinks I, *if he turns into his orchard, I'm done for. I'll have to give him the dodge somehow or anoiher» through some hole in the fence ; that's a fact.') But he passed on that time. ' So it is,' said he, * with constitutions : our'n will gradu- ally approximate to their'n, and theii*'n to our'n. As they lose their strength of executive, they will varge to Republicanism ; and as we invigorate the form of government — as we must do, or go to the Old Boy — we shall tend towards a monarchy. If this comes on gradually, like the changes in the human body, by the slow approach of old age, so much the better ; but I fear we shall have fevers, and convulsion fits, and cholics, and an everlastin' gripin' of the intestines first. You and I won't live to see it, Sam j but our posteriors will, you may depend.' " I don't go the whole figur' with minister," said the Clockfiiaker, "but I do opinionate with him in part. In our business relations we belie our political principles. We say everj' man is equal in the Union, and should have an equal vote and voice in the Government ; but in our banks, railroad companies, factory cor- porations, and so on, every man's vote is regilated by his share and proportion of stock ; and if it warn't so, no man would take hold on these things at all. " Natur' ordained it so. A father of a family is head, and rules supreme in his household ; his eldest son and darter are like first leftenants under him ; and then there is an overseer over the niggers. It would not do for all to be equal there. So it is in the Univarse ; it is ruled by one Superior Power. If all the angels had a voice in the government, I guess — " Here I fell fast asleep. I had been nodding for some time, not in approbation of what he said, but in heaviness of slumber, for I had never before heard him so prosy since I first overtook him on the Colchester road. I hate politics as a subject of conversation ; it is too wide a field for chit-chat, and too often ends in angry discussion. How long he continued this train of speculation, I do not know ; but, judging by the different aspect of the country, I must have slept an hour. I was at length aroused by the report of his rifle, which he had discharged from the waggon. The last I recollected of his con- versation was, I think, about American angels having no voice in the Government, an assertion that struck my drowsy faculties as not strictly true, as I had often heard that the American ladies talked frequently and warmly on the subject of politics, and knew that one of them had very recently the credit of breaking up 112 THE CLOCKMAKER General Jackson's Cabinet. When I awoke, the first I heard was : " Well, I declare ; if that ain't an amazin' fine shot, too, considerin' how the critter was a-ruimin' the whole blessed time. If I han't cut her head off with a ball, jist below the throat ; that's a fact. There's no mistake in a good Kentucky rifle, I tell you.' "Whose head?" said I, in great alarm. "Whose head, Mr. Slick? For Heaven's sake, what have you done?" for I had been dreaming of those angelic politicians, the American ladies. " Why, that 'are hen-partridge's head, to be sure," said he. "Don't you see how special wonderful wise it looks, a-flutterin' about arter its head." " True," said I, rubbing my eyes, and opening them in time to see the last muscular spasms of the decapitated body — "true, Mr. Slick, it is a happy illustration of our previous conversation — a body without a headi* CHAPTER XXX A TALE OF BUNKER'S HILL Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his own existence was involved in that of the Constitution of the United States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occa- sions. He affected to consider its Government and its institutions as perfect, and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of either, would make the common reply of all Ameri- cans : " I guess you don't understand us," cr else enter into a laboured defence. When left, however, to the free expression of his own thoughts, he would often give utterance to those appre- hensions which most men feel in the event of an experiment not yet fairly tried, and which has in many parts evidently disappointed the sanguine hopes of its friends. But even on these occasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber, he would generally cover them by giving them as the remarks of others, or concealing them in a tale. It was this habit that gave his discourse rather the appearance of thinking aloud than a connected conversation. " We are a great nation, Squire," he said, "that's sartain ; but I am afeard we didn't altogether start right. It's in politics as in racin' ; everything depends upon a fair start. If you are off too quick, you have to pull up and turn back agin, and your beast gets out of wind, and is baffled ; and if you lose in the start, you han't got a fair chance arterwards, and are plaguy apt to be jockied in the course. When we sot up housekeepin', as it were, for our- selves, we hated our step-mother. Old England, so dreadful bad we wouldn't foller any of her ways of managin' at all, but made new receipts for ourselves. Well, we missed it in many things most consumedly, somehow or another. Did you ever see/' said i A TALE OF bunker's H. 'L 113 he, " a congregjntion split rijjht in two by a quirrel, an^'ire j* go off and set up for themselves ?" "I am sorry to sav," said 1 "that I have seen some melancholy instances ot the kind. " Wf they shoot ahead or drop astarn, as the case may be ; but they »*» ' get on another tack, and leave the old ship clean out of sigl. When folks once take to emipratin' in religion in this way, they never know where to bide. First they try one location, and then they try another ; some settle here, and some improve there ; but they don't hitch their horses together long. Sometimes they com- plam they Aave too little water; at other times that they have too much. They are never satisfied ; and wherever these separatists go, they onsettle others as bad as themselves. I never look on a desarter as any great shakes. ' " My poor father used to say, * Sam, mind what I tell you ; if a man don't agree in all partikilars with his church, and can't go the whole hog with 'em, he ain't justified on that account, nohow, to separate from them ; for, Sam, Schism is a sin in the eye of God. The whole Christian world,' he would say, * is divided into two great families, the Catholic and Protestant. Well, the Catholic is a united family, a happy family, and a strong family, all governed by one head ; and, Sam, as sure as eggs is eggs, that 'are family will grub out t'other one— stalk, branch, and root ; it won't so much as leave the seed of it in the ground to grow by chance as a nateral curiosity. Now, the Protestant family is like a bundle of refuse shingles, when withed up together — which it never was, and never will be to all etarnity — no great of a bundle, arter all ; you might take it up under one arm, and walk off with it without winkin'. But when all lyin' loose, as it always is, jist look at it, and see what a sight it is I a-blowin* about by every wind o\. doctrine ; some away up e*en almost out of sight, others rollin' over and over in the dirt ; some split to pieces, and others so warped by the weather and cracked by the sun no two of 'em will lie so as to make a close jint. They are all divided into sects — railin', quarrellin', separatin', and agreein' in nothin', but hatin' each other. It is awful to think on. T'other family will, some day or other, gather them all up, put them into a bundle, and bind them up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for nothin' under the sun but the fire. Now, he who splits one of these here sects by schism, or he who preaches schism, commits a grievous sin ; and, Sam, if you valy yowt own peace of mind, have nothin' to do with such folks. " * If s pretty much the same in politics. I ain't quite clear in my conscience, Sam, about our glorious Revolution. If that 'are blood was shed justly in the rebellion, then it was the Lord's doin' ; but if unlawfully, how am I to answer for my share in it ? I was to Bunker's Hill — the most splendid battle, it's generally allowed, that ever was fought. What effects my shots had, I can't tell ; and I'm glad I can't— all except one, Sam, and that shot— \ i ti4 THE CLOCKMAKER Here the old gentleman became dreadful agitated. He shook like an a^ue fit, and he walked up and down the room, and wrung his hands, and groaned bitterly. ' I have wrastled with the Lord, Sam ; and have prayed to Him to enlighten me on that pint, and to wash out the stam of that 'are blood from my hands. I never told you that 'are story, nor your mother neither, for she could not stand it, poor critter ; she's kinder narvous. "'Well, Dr. Warren — (the first soldier of his age, though he never fou^jht afore)— commanded us all to resarve our fire till the British came within pint-blank shot, and we could cleverly see the whites of their eyes, and we did so ; and we mowed them down like grass, and we repeated our fire with awful eflfect. I was among the last that remained behind the breastwork, for most on 'em, arter the second shot, cut and run full-split. The British were close to us ; and an officer, with his sword drawn, was leadin' on his men and encouragin' them to the charge. I could see his featur's ; he was a raal handsum man. I can see him now, with his white breeches and black gaiters, and red coat, and three-cornered cocked hat, as plain as if it was yesterday instead of the year '75, Well, I took a steady aim at him, and fired. He didn't move for a space, and I thought I had missed him, when all of a sudden he sprung right straight up on eend, his sword slipt through hi? hands up to the pint, and then he fell flat on his face a-top of the blade, and it came straight out through his back. He was fairly skivered. I never see'd anything so awful since I was raised ; I actilly screamed out with horror, and I threw away my gun, and joined them that was retreatin' over the neck to Charlestovvn. Sam, that 'are British officer, if our rebellion was onjust or onlavrful, was murdered, that's a fact ; and the idee, now I am growing old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes Act, and I go over all our grievances one they a sufficient justification ? " Well, it makes a long list, and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as anything. But sometimes there come doubts in my mind jist like a guest that's not invited or not expected, and takes you at a short like, and I say, " Warn't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessions made, and warn't offers sent to settle all fairly ? " and I get troubled and oneasy again. And then I say to myself, says I, " Oh, yes ; but them offers came too late." I do nothin' now, when I am alone, but argue it over and over agin. I actilly dream on that man in my sleep sometimes, and then I see him as plain as if he was afore me ; and I go over it all agin till I come to that 'are shot, and then I leap right up in bed, and scream like all vengeance ; and your mother — poor old critter I — says, " Sam," says she, " what on airth ails you, to make you act so like old Scratch in your sleep ? I do believe there's somethin' or another on your conscience." And I say, " Polly dear, I guess we're a-goin' to have rain, for that plaguy 'cute rheumatiz has seized my foot, and it does antagonize I begin with the Stamp e by one, and say, " Ain^ A TALE OF BUNKER'S HILL IIS [* Ain't land I But that's and I |e, and Id and but |alone, tan in afore then me so, I have no peace. It always docs so when it's like for a change." " Dear heart," she says— the pooi, simple critter 1 — "then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam?" and she crawli out of Led, and gets her red flannel waistcoat, and rubs away at my foot ever so long. Oh, Sam 1 if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as she thinks she rubs it out of my foot, I should be in peace ; that's a fact. " * W Kit's done, Sam, can't be helped. There is no use in cryin* over sp.lt milk, but still one can't help a-thinkin' on it. But I don't love schisms, and I don't love rebellion. " * Our Revolution has made us grow faster and grow richer ; but, Sam, when we were younger and poorer, we were more pious and more happy. We have nothin* fixed either in religion or politics. What connection there ought to be atween Church and State, I am not availed ; but some there ought to be, as sure as the Lord made Moses. Religion, when left to itself, as with us, grows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers, and sprouts, and inter- sectin' shoots, and superfluous wood make a nice shady tree to look at ; but where's the fruit, Sam ? — that's the question — where's the fruit ? No ; the pride of human wisdom, and the presumption it breeds, will ruinate us. Jefferson was an infidel, and avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the af;e. Cam- bridge College is Unitarian, 'cause it looks wise to doubt, and every drum-stick of a boy ridicules the belief of his forefathers. If our country is to be darkened by infidelity, our Government defied by every State, and every State ruled by mobs, then, Sam, the blood we shed in our Revolution will be atoned for in the blood and suflTerin' of our fellow-citizens. The murders of that Civil War will be expiated by a political suicide of the State.* " I am somewhat of father's opinion," said the Clockmaker, "though I don't go the whole figur* with him. But he needn't have made such an everlastin' touss about fixin' that 'are British officer's flint for him ; for he'd 'a died of himself by this time, I do suppose, if he had 'a missed his shot at him. P'raps we might have done a little better, and p'raps we mightn't, by stickin' a little closer to the old Constitution ; but one thing I will say : I think, arter ail, your Colony Government is about as happy and as good a one as I know on. A man's life and property are well protected here, at little cost ; and he can go where he likes, and do what he likes, provided he don't trespass on his neighbour. " I guess that's enough for any on us, now, ain't it?" \\ ronize :-!•: Ii6 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XXXI GULLING A BLUE-NOSE " I ALLOT," said Mr. Slick, " that the blue-noses are the most gullible folks on the face of the airth — rigular soft-horns ; that's a fact. Politics and such stuff set 'em a-gapin', like children in a chimney-corner listenin' to tales of ghosts, Salem witches, and Nova Scotia snow-storms ; and while they stand starin' and yawpin', all eyes and mouth, they get their pockets picked of every cent that's in 'em. One candidate chap says, ' Feller- citizens, this country is goin* to the dogs, hand over hand. Look at your rivers, you have no bridges ; at your wild lands, you have no roads ; at your treasury — you han't got a cent in it ; at your markets things don't fetch nothin' ; at your fish, the Yankees ketch 'em all. There's nothin' behind you but sufferin', around you but poverty, afore you but slavery and death. What's the cause of this unheerd-of, awful state of things ? ay, what's the cause ? Why, judges, and banks, and lawyers, and great folks have swallered all the money. They've got you down, and they'll keep you down to all etarnity — you and your posteriors arter you. Rise up like men I Arouse yourselves like freemen, and elect me to the Legislatur*, and I'l' lead on the small but patriotic band. I'll put the big-wigs thro' their facin's ; I'll make 'em shake in their shoes. I'll knock off your chains, and make you free.* Well, the goneys fall-to and elect him, and he desarts right away, with balls, rifle, powder, horn, and all. He promised too much. " Then comes a raal good man, and an everlastin' fine preacher, a'most a special spiritual man ; renounces the world, the flesh, and the devil ; preaches and prays day and night ; so kind to the poor, and so humble, he has no more pride than a babe ; and so short- handed, he's no butter to his bread — all self-denial, mortifyin' the flesh. Well, as soon aL he can work it, he marries the richest gal in all his flock, and then his bread is buttered on both sides. He promised too much. " Then comes a doctor, and a prime article he is too. * I've got,' says he, ' a screw augur emetic and hot crop ; and if I can't cure all sorts o' things in natur*, my nam^ ain't Quack.' Well, he turns stomach and pocket both inside out, and leaves poor blue-nose — a dead man. He promised too much. " Then comes a lawyer — an honest lawyer, too — a raal wonder onder the sun, as straight as a shingle in all his dealin's. He's so honest, he can't bear to hear tell of other lawyers ; he writes agin 'em, raves agin 'em, votes agin 'em ; they are all rogues but him. He's jist the man to take a case in hand, 'cause he will see justice done. Well, he wins his case, and fobs all for costs, 'cause he's sworn to see justice done to — himself. He promised too much. vr" ^e got,' I't cure turns lose — a GULLING A BLUE-NOSE 117 "Then comes a Yankee clockmaker" and here Mr. Slick looked up and smiled, " with his 'Soft Sawder' and * Human Natur" ; and he sells clocks warranted to run from July to etarnily, stoppages included ; and I must say they do run as — as long as wooden clocks commonly do ; that's a fact. But I'll show you presently how I put the leak into 'em, for here's a feller a little bit ahead on us whose flint I've made up my mind to fix this while past." Here we were nearly thrown out of the wapgon by the breaking down of one of those small wooden bridges which prove so annoying and so dangerous to travellers. " Did you hear that 'are snap ? " said he. " Well, as sure as fate, I'll break my clocks over them etarnal log bri'ges, if Old Clay clips over them arter that fashion. Them 'are poles are plaguy treacherous ; they are jist like old Marm Patience Doesgood's teeth, that keeps the great United Independent Demo- cratic Hotel at Squaw Neck Creek, in Massachusetts— one half gone, and t'other half rotten eends." " I thought you had disposed of your last clock," said I, " at Colchester, to Deacon Flint." "So I did," he replied. "The last one I had to sell to him; but I got a few left for other folks yet. Now, there's a man on this road, one Zeb Allen — a real, genum^ skinflint, a proper close-fisted customer as you'll almost see anywhere, and one that's not altogether the straight thing in his deaUn', neither. He don't want no one to live but himself ; and he's mighty handsum to me, sayin' my clocks are all a cheat, and that we ruinate the country, a-drainin' every drop of money out ot it, a-callin' me a Yankee broom, and what not. But it an't all jist gospel that he says. Now, I'll put a clock on him afore he knows it. I'll go right into him as slick as a whistle, and play him to the eend of my line like a trout ; I'll have a hook in his gills while he's thinkin' he's only smelling at the bait. There he is now, I'll be darned if he ain't, standin' afore his shop door, lookin' as strong as high-proof Jamaiky. I guess I'll whip out of the bung while he's lookin' arter the spicket, and p'raps he'll be none o' the wiser till he finds it out, neither." " Well, Squire, how do you do ? " said he. " How's all at home ? " " Reasonable well, I give you thanks. Won't you alight?" "Can't to-day," said Mr. Slick. "I'm in a consider- able of a hurry to katch the packet. Have you any commands for Sou'-west? I'm going to the Island, and across the Bay to Windsor. Any word that way?" " No," says Mr. Allen ; "none that I can think on, unless it be to inquire how butter's goin'. They tell me cheese is down, and prodwr^ of all kind particular dull this fall." " Well, I'm glad I can tell you that question," said Slick, " for I don't calculate to return to these parts. Butter has risen a cent or two ; I put mine off mind at tenpence." " Don't return ! Possible ? Why, how you talk ! Have you done with the clock trade?" " I guess I have. It an't worth follerin' now." " 'Most time," said the other, lau^hin' ; " for by all accounts the -'■ tl \ i ij/ ^i ;'! ;sj -*-V i ii8 THE CLOCKMAKER clocks warn't worth havin', and most infarnal dear too. Folks begin to get their eyes open." " It warn't needed in your case," said Mr. Slick, with that peculiarly composed manner that indicates suppressed feeling, "for you was always wide-awake. If all the folks had cut their eye-teeth as airly as you did, there'd be plaguy few clocks sold in these parts, I reckon. But you are right. Squire ; you may say that. They actually were not worth havin', and that's the truth. The fact is," said he, throwin' down his reins, and affectin' a most confidential tone, " I felt almost ashamed of them myself, I tell you. The long and short of the matter is jist this, they don't make no good ones nowadays no more ; for they calculate 'em for shipping, and not for home use. I was all struck up of a heap when I see'd the last lot I got from the States. I was properly bit by them, you may depend. They didn't pay cost, for I couldn't recommend them with a clear con- science ; and I must say I do like a fair deal, for I'm straight up and down, and love to go right ahead ; that's a fact. Did you ever see them I fetched when I first came — them I sold over the Bay ? " « No," said Mr. Allen, " I can't say I did." " Well," continued Slick, " they were a prime article, I tell you ; no mistake there ; fit for any market. It's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anywhere. If you want a clock, and can lay your hands on one of them, I advise you not to let go the chance. You'll know 'em by the Lowell mark, for they were all made at Judge Beler's factory. Squire Shepody, down to Five Islands, axed me to get him one, and a special job I had of it — near about more sarch arter it than it was worth. But I did get him one ; and a particular handsum one it is, copal'd and gilt superior. 1 guess it's worth any half-dozen in these parts, let t'others be where they may. If I could 'a got supplied with the like of them, I could 'a made a grand spec out of them, for they took at once, and went off quick." " Have you got it with you ? " said Mr. Allen. . " I should like to see it." " Yes, I have it here, all done up in tow, as snug as a bird's %g%^ to keep it from jarrin', for it hurts 'em consumedly to jolt 'em over them 'are etarnal wooden bridges. But it's no use to take it out ; it ain't for sale ; it's bespoke. And I wouldn't take the same trouble to get another for twenty dollars. The only one that I know of that there's any chance of gettin' is one that Increase Crane has up to Wilmot. They say he's a-sellin* off." After a good deal of persuasion, Mr. Slick unpacked the clock, but protested against his asking for it, for it was not for sale. It was then exhibited, every part explained and praised, as new in invention and perfect in workmanship. Now, Mr. Allen had a veiy exalted opinion of Squire Shepody's taste, judgment, and saving knowledge ; and as it was the last and only chance of getting a clock of such superior quality, he offered to take it at the price the Squire was to have it, at ^^ los. » But Mr. Slick GULLING A BLUE-NOSE 119 c >/: vowed he couldn't part with it at no rate ; he didn't know where he could get the like agin (for he warn't quite sure about Increase Crane's), and the Squire would be confounded disappointed. He couldn't think of it. In proportion to the difficulties rose the ardour of Mr. Allen ; his offers advanced to £8, to £8 los., to £g. " I vow," said Mr. Slick, " I wish I hadn't let on that I had it at all. I don't like to refuse you, but where am I to get the like ? " After much discussion of a similar nature, he consented to part with the clock, though with great apparent reluctance ; and pocketed the money with a protest that, cost what it would, he should have to procure another, for he couldn't think of putting the Squire's pipe out arter that fashion, for he was a very clever man, and as fair as a boot-jack. " Now," said Mr. Slick, as we proceeded on our way, " that 'are feller is properly sarved. He got the most inferior article I had, and I jist doubled the price on him. It's a pity he should be a-tellin' of lies of the Yankees all the time. This will help him now to a little grain of truth." Then mimicking his voice and manner, he repeated Allen's words with a strong nasal twang : " ' 'Most time for you to give over the clock trade, I guess ; for by all accounts they ain't worth havin', and most infarnal dear too. Folks begin to get their eyes open.' Better for you if you'd 'a had your'n open, I reckon. A joke is a joke, but I concait you'll find that no joke. The next time you tell stories about Yankee pedlars, put the wooden clock in with the wooden punkin' seeds and Hickory hams, will you ? The blue-noses. Squire, are all like Zeb Allen ; they think they know everything, but they get gulled from year's eend to year's eend. They expect too much from others, and do too little for themselves. They actilly expect the sun to shine, and the rain to fall, through their little House of Assembly. * What have you done for us ? ' they keep axin' their members. * Who did you spunk up to last session ?' jist as if all legislation consisted in attacking some half-dozen puss-proud folks to Halifax, who are jist as big noodles as they be themselves. You hear nothin' but politics, politics, pohtics — one everlastin' sound of ' Give, give, give.' It I was Governor, I'd give 'em the butt eend of my mind on the subject ; I'd crack their pates till I let some light in 'em, if it was me, I know. I'd say to the members, ' Don't come down here to Halifax with your long lockrums about politics, makin' a great touss about nothin' ; but open the country, foster agricultur', encourage trade, incorporate companies, make bridges, facilitate conveyance, and, above all things, make a railroad from Windsor to Halifax. And mind what I tell you now. Write it down for fear you should forget it ; for it's a fact. And if you don't believe me, I'll lick you till you do ; for there ain't a word of a lie in it, by gum 1 * One such work as the Windsor Bridge is worth all your laws^ votes^ speeches^ and resolutions for the last ten yearSy if tied up and put into a meal-bag together If it anU^ I hope 4 mqy be shot^ " \ im II '•'k 120 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XXXIl TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE We had a pleasant sail of three hours from Parrsboro' to Windsor. The arrivals and departures by water are regulated at this place by the tide, and it was sunset before we reached Mrs. Wilcox's comfortable inn. Here, as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to be perfectly at home ; and he pointed to a wooden clock as a proof of his successful and extended trade, and of the universal influence of "soft sawder" and a knowledge of "human natur*." Taking out a penknife, he cut off a splinter from a stick of fire- wood, and balancing himself on one leg of his chair by the aid of his right foot, commenced his favourite amusement of whittling, which he generally pursued in silence. Indeed, it appeared to have become with him an indispensable accompaniment of reflection. He sat in this abstracted manner until he had manufactured into drfTcate shavings the whole of his raw material, when he very deliberately resumed a position of more ease and security by resting his chair on two legs instead of one, and putting both his feet on the mantelpiece ; then lighting his cigar, he said, in his lisual quiet manner : " There's a plaguy sight of truth in them 'are old proverbs. They are distilled facts steamed down to an essence. They are like portable soup — an amazin' deal of matter in a small compass. They are what I valy most — experience. Father used to say, * I'd as lief have an old home-spun, self-taught doctor as 'are a professor in the College at Philadelphia or New York to attend me ; for what they do know, they know by experience, and not by books. And experience is everything ; it's hearin', and seein', and tryin' ; and arter that, a feller must be a bom fool if he don't know.' That's the beauty of old proverbs ; they are as true as a plumb-line, and as short and sweet as sugar-candy. Now, when you come to see all about this country, you'll find the truth of that 'are one : A man that has too many irons in the fire is plaguy apt to get some on ^em burnt! "Do you recollect that 'are tree I showed you to Parrsboro'. It was all covered with black knobs^ like a wart rubbed with caustic. Well, the plum-trees had the same disease a few years ago, and they all died ; and the cherry-trees, I concait, will go for it too. The farms here are all covered with the same black knobs^ and they do look like old Scratch. If you see a place all gone to wrack and ruin, it's mortgaged, you may depend. The black knob is on it. My plan, you know, is to ax leave to put a clock in a house, and let it be till I return. I never say a word about sellin' it, for I know when I come back they won't let it go arter they are once used to it. Well, when I first came, I knowed no one, and I TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE 121 apt It >tic. ind too. ind was forced to inquire whether a man was good for it afore I left it with him ; so I made a pint of axin' all about every man's place that lives on the road. * Who lives up there in the big house ? I guess it's a nice location that ; pretty considerable improvements, them.' ' Why, sir, that's A. B.'s. He was well-to-do in the world once ; carried a stiff upper-lip, and keered for no one. He was one of our grand aristocrats ; wore a long-tailed coat and a ruffled shirt. But he must take to ship-biiildin', and has gone to the dogs.' ' Oh 1 ' said I. * Too many irons in the fire. Well, the next farm, where the pigs are in the potato-field, whose is that ? * * Oh, sir, that's our D.'s. He was a considerable forehanded farmer as any in C. place ; but he sot up for an Assembly-man, and opened a store, and things went agin him somehow ; he had no luck arterwards. I hear his place is mortgaged, and they've got him cited in Chancery.' ' The black knob is on him,' said I. 'The black what, sir?' says blue-nose, starin' like a fool, and lookin' onfakillsed. * Nothin', says I. * But the next, who im- proves that house ? ' * Why, that's E. F.'s. He was the greatest farmer in these parts ; another of the aristocracy ; had a most noble stock o' cattle, and the matter of some hundreds out in jint notes. Well, he took the contract for beef with the troops, and he fell astarn ; so I guess it's a gone goose with him. He's heavy mortgaged.' 'Too many irons agin,' said I. 'Who lives to the left there ? That man has a most special fine intervale, and a grand orchard too. He must be a good mark, that.' * Well, he was once, sir ; a few years ago. But he built a fuUin' mill and a cardin' mill, and put up a lumber establishment, and speculated in the West Indy line ; but the dam was carried away by the freshets, the lumber fell, and, faith I he fell too. He's shot up ; he han't been see'd these two years. His farm is a common, and fairly run out.' • Oh,' said I, * I understand now, my man. These folks had too many irons in the fire, you see, and some on 'em have got burnt.' ' I never heerd tell of it,' says blue-nose. 'They might, but not to my knowledge,' and he scratched his head, and looked as if he would ask the meanin' of it, but didn't like to. Arter that I axed no more questions. I knew a mortgaged farm as far as I could see it ; there was a strong family likeness in 'em all — the same ugly featur's, the same cast o' countenance. The black knob was disarnible ; there was no mistake. Barn-doors broken off ; fences burnt up ; glass out of winder ; more white crops than green, and both lookin' weedy ; no wood-pile, no sarce garden, no compost, no stock ; moss in the mowin' lands, thistles in the ploughed lands, and neglect everywhere. Skinnin' had com- menced ; takin' all out, and puttin' nothin' in ; gettin' ready for a move, so as to leave nothM behind. Flittin'-time had come ; fore- gatherin' for foreclosin' ; preparin' to cuss and quit. That beauti- ful river we come up to-day, what superfine farms it has on both sides of it, han't it ? It's a sight to behold. Our folks have no "it i % 122 THE CLOCKMAKER notion of such a country so far down east, beyond creation 'most, as Nova Scotia is. If I was to draw up an account of it for the Slickville Gazette^ I guess few would accept it as a bond-fide draft, without some 'sponsible man to indorse it that warn't given to flammin'. They'd say there was a land speculation to the bottom of it, or a water privilege to put into the market, or a plaister rock to get off, or some such scheme ; they would, I snore. But I hope I may never see daylight agin if there's sich a country in all our great nation as the r/Z-cinity of Windsor. " Now, it's jist as like as not some goney of a blue-nose that see'd us from his fields, sailin' up full split, with a fair wind on the packet, went right off home, and said to his wife, ' Now do, for gracious sake, mother, jist look here, and see how slick them folks go along 1 And that captain has nothin' to do all day but sit straddle-legs across his tiller, and order about his sailors, or talk like a gentleman to his passengers ; he's got 'most as easy a time of it as Ami Cuttle has, since he took up the fur trade, a-snarin' rabbits. I guess I'll buy a vessel, and leave the lads to do the ploughin' and little chores ; they've grow'd up now to be consider- able lumps of boys.' Well, away he'll go hot-foot (for I know the critters better nor they know themselves), and he'll go and buy some old wrack of a vessel to carry plaister, and mortgage his farm to pay for her. The vessel will jam him up tight for repairs and new riggin', and the sheriff will soon pay him a visit (and he's a most particular troublesome visitor that. If he once only gets a slight how-d'ye-do acquaintance, he becomes so amazin' intimate arterwards, a-comin' in without knockin', and a-runnin' in and out at all hours, and makin' so plaguy free and easy, it's about as much as a bargain if you can get clear of him arterwards.) Benipt by the tide, and benipt by the sheriff, the vessel makes short work with him. Well, the upshot is, the farm gets neglected, while Captain Cuddy is to sea a-drogin' of plaister ; the thistles run over his grain fields ; his cattle run over his hay land ; the interest runs over its time ; the mortgage runs over all ; and at last he jist runs over to the lines to Eastport himself. And when he finds himself there, a-standin' in the street, near Major Pine's tavern, with his hands in his trouser pockets, a-chasin' of a stray shillin' from one eend of 'em to another afore he can catch it, to swap for a dinner, won't he look like a ravin', distracted fool, that's all ? He'll feel about as streaked as I did once, a-ridin' down the St. John River. It was the fore part of March. I'd been up to Fredericton a-specu- latin' in a small matter of lumber, and was returnin' to the city, a-gallopin' along on one of old Buntin's horses on the ice, and all at once I missed my horse : he went right slap in, and slid under the ice out of sight as quick as wink, and there I ^yas a-standin' all alone. ^ Well,' says I, * what the dogs has become of my horse and portmantle ? They have given me a proper dodge ; that's a fact. That is a narrer squeak ; it fairly bangs all.' Well, I guess TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE 123 he'll feel near about as ugly when he finds himself brought up all standin' that way. And it will come so sudden on him, he'll say, 'Why, it ain't possible I've lost farm and vessel botli in tu-tu's that way, but I don't see neither on 'em ?' Eastport is near about all made up of folks who have had to cut and run for it. " I was down there last fall, and who should I see but Thomas Rigby, of Windsor. He knew me the minit he laid eyes upon me, for I had sold him a clock the summer afore. (I got paid for it, though ; for I see'd he had too many irons in the fire not to get some on 'em burnt. And besides, I knew every fall and spring the wind set in for the lines, from Windsor, very strong — a regulkr trade wind — a sort of monshune, that blows all one way, for a long time without shiftin'. Well, I felt proper sorry for him, for he was a very clever man, and looked cut up dreadfully, and amazin' down in the mouth. ' Why,' says I, ' possible 1 Is that yon, Mr. Ri^by ? Why, as I am alive ! if that ain't my old friend ! Why, how do you do?' 'Hearty, I thank you,' said he. 'How be you?' * Reasonable well, I give you thanks,' says I. ' But what on airth brought you here?' 'Why,' says he, 'Mr. Slick, I couldn't well avoid it. Times are uncommon dull over the bay ; there's nothing stirrin' there this year — and never will, I'm thinkin'. No mortal soul can live in Nova Scotia. I do believe that our country was made of a Saturday night, arter all the rest of the Universe was finished. One-half of it has got all the ballast of Noah's Ark thrown out there ; and the other half is eat up by bankers, lawyers, and other great folks. All our money goes to pay salaries, and a poor man has no chance at all.' ' Well,' says I, ' are you done up, stock and fluke — a total wrack ? ' ' No,' says he ; ' I have two hundred pounds left yet to the good ; but my farm, stock and utensils, them young blood-horses, and the bran'- new vessel I was a-buildin', are all gone to pot — swept as clean as a thrashin'-floor ; that's a fact. says I, 'do you know the reason says he, ' any fool can tell that, thing has turned agin the country way, and much good may it reason the banks don't eat Shark & Co. took all.' 'Well,' of all that misfortune ? ' ' Oh,' Bad times, to be sure. Every- ; the banks have it all their own do *em.' ' Well,' says I, ' what's the us up too ? For I guess they are as hungry as your'n be, and in no way particular about their food neither ; considerable sharp set ; cut like razors, you may depend. I'll tell you,' says I, ' how you got that 'are slide that sent you heels over head : You had too many irons in the fire. You hadn't ought to have taken hold of ship-buildin' at all ; you knowed nothin' about it. You should have stuck to your farm, and your farm would have stuck to you. Now go back afore you spend your money — go up to Douglas, and you'll buy as good a farm for two hundred pounds as what you lost ; and see to that, and to that only, and you'll grow rich. As for banks, they can't hurt a country no great, I guess, except by breakin' ; and I concait there's no fear ! i M ■' ! ! m. ^ 124 THE CLOCKMAKER — v of your'n breakin'. And as for lawyers, and them kind o' heavy coaches, give 'em half the road, and if they run agin you, take the law of 'em. Undivided^ unremitting attention paid to one things in ninety -nine cases out of a hundred^ will ensure success; but you know the old saying about " Too mafty irons^ "'Now,' says I, * Mr. Rigby, what o'clock is it?' 'Why,' says he, ' the moon is up a piece ; I guess it's seven o'clock, or there- about. I suppose it's time to be a-movin'.' * Stop ! ' says I. ' Jist come with me ; I got a raal nateral curiosity to show you — such a thing as you never laid your eyes on in Nova Scotia, I know.' So we walked along towards the beach. ' Now,' says I, ' look at that 'are man, old Lunar, and his son, a-sawin' plank by moonlight, for that 'are vessel on the stocks there I Come agin to-morrow mornin', afore you can cleverly discarn objects the matter of a yard or so afore you, and you'll find 'em at it agin. I guess that vessel won't ruinate those folks. They know their business^ and stick to it.' Well, away went Rigby considerable sulky (for he had no notion that it was his own fault ; he laid all the blame on the folks to Halifax), but I guess he was a little grain posed ; for back he went, and bought to Sowack, where I hear he has a better farm than he had before. " I mind once we had an Irish gal as a dairy-help. Well, we had a wicked devil of a cow, and she kicked over the milk pail, and in ran Dora, and swore the Bogle did it. Jist so poor Rigby ; he wouldn't allow it was nateral causes, but laid it all to politics. Talkin' of Dora puts me in mind of the gals, for she warn't a bad- lookin' heifer that. My 1 what an eye she had 1 And I concaited she had a particular small foot and ankle too, when I helped her up once into the hay-mow to sarch for eggs ; but I can't exactly say, for when she brought 'em in, mother shook her head, and said it was dangerous : she said she might fall through and hurt herself, and always sent old Snow arterwards. She was a con- siderable of a long-headed woman, was mother ; she could see as far ahead as most folks. She warn't born yesterday, I guess. But that 'are proverb is true as respects the gals too. Whenever you see one on *em with a whole lot. of sweethearts, it's an even chance if she gets married to any on 'em. Onei cools off, and another cools off; and before she brings any on 'em to the right weldin' heat, the coal h gone, and the fire is out. Then she may blow and blow till she's tired ; she may blow up a dust, but the deuce of a flame can she blow up agin, to save her soul alive. I never see a clever-lookin' gal in danger of that, I don't long to whisper in her ear : ' You dear little critter, you, take care I You have too tnaiiy irons in the fire; some on 'em will get stone cold^ and f other ones will get burnt sOy they'll never be no good in natur\' » ^ \ ■■'■:M WINDSOR AND THE FAR WEST 125 :e see in too and in we went to see over the Avon A New Yorker " You mean of CHAPTER XXXIU WINDSOR AND THE FAR WEST The next morning the Clockmaker proposed to take a drive round the neiL;hbourhood. " You hadn't ought,' said he, " to be in a hurry. You should see the 7//cinity of this location ; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere." When the servants were harnessing Old Clay, a new bridge which had recently been erected River. "That," said he, "is a splendid thing, built it, and the folks in St. John paid for it." Halifax," said I. " St. John is in the other Province." " I mean what I say," he replied ; " and it's a credit to New Brunswick. No, sir ; the Halifax folks neither know nor keer much about the country ; they wouldn't take hold on it ; and if they had 'a waited for them, it would have been one while afore they got a bridge, I tell you. They've no spirit, and plaguy I'ttle sympathy with the country ; and I'll tell you the reason on it. There are a good many people there from other parts, and always have been, who come to make money, and nothin' else ; who don't call it home, and don't feel to home ; and who intend to up killoch and off as soon as they have made their ned out of the blue-noses. They have got about as much regard for the country as a pedlar has who trudges along with a pack on his back. He walks^ 'cause he intends to ride at last ; trusts^ 'cause he intends to sue at last ; stniles^ 'cause he intends to cheat at last ; saves all^ 'cause he intends to move all at last. It's actilly overrun with transient paupers and transient speculators, and these last grumble and growl like a bear with a sore head the whole blessed time at everything, and can hardly keep a civil tongue in their head, while they're fobbin' your money hand over hand. These critters feel no interest in anything but cent, per cent. They deaden public spirit ; they han't got none themselves, and they larf at it m others. And when you add their numbers to the timid ones, the stingy ones, the ignorant ones, and the poor ones that are to be found in every place, why, the few smart, spirited ones that's left are too few to do anything ; and so nothin' is done. It appears to me, if I was a blue-nose I'd — but thank fortin I ain't, so I says nothin'. But there is somethin' that ain't altogether jist right in this country ; that's a fact. " But what a country this Bay country is, isn't it ? Look at that medder I Bean't it lovely ? The prair-i's of lUanoy are the top of the ladder with us, but these dykes take the shine off them by a long chalk, that's sartin. The land in our Far West, it is generally allowed, can't be no better. What you plant is sure to Ij^row and yield well ; and food is so cheap, you can live there for : % 126 THE CLOCKMAKER half nothin'. But it don't agree with us New England folks ; we don't enjoy good health there, and what in the world is the use of food if J ou have such an etarnal dyspepsy you can't digest it ? A man can hardly live there till next grass afore he is in the yaller leaf. Jist like one of our bran'-new vessels built down in Maine, of best hackmatack, or, what's better still, of our raal American live oak (and that's allowed to be about the best in the world), send her off to the West Indies, and let her lie there awhile, and the worms will riddle her bottom all full of holes like a tin cullender, or a board with a grist of duck-shot thro' it, you wouldn't believe what a bore they be. Well, that's jist the case with the Western \^^ climate. The heat takes the solder out of the knees and elbows, ^ weakens the joints, and makes the frame rickety. " Besides, we like the smell of the salt water ; it seems kinder nateral to us New Englanders. We can make more a-ploughin' of the seas than ploughin' of a prair-i. It would take a bottom near about as long as Connecticut River to raise wheat enough to buy the cargo of a Nantucket whaler or a Salem tea ship. And then to leave one's folks and native place — where one was raised, halter-broke, and trained to go in gear — and exchange all the com- forts of the old States for them 'are new ones, don't seem to go down well at all. Why, the very sight of the Yankee gals is good for sore eyes. The dear little critters ! they do look so scrumptious, I tell you, with their cheeks bloomin' like a red rose budded on a white one, and their eyes like Mrs. Adams's diamonds (that folks say shine as well in the dark as in the light), neck like a swan, lips chock full of kisses — lick ! it fairly makes one's mouth water to think on *em. But it's no use talkin' ; they are jist made critters, that's a fact ; full of health, and life, and beauty. Now, to change them 'are splendid white water-lilies of Connecticut and Rhode Island for the yaller crocuses of Illanoy is what we don't like. It goes most confoundedly agin the grain, I tell you. Poor critters I when they get away back there, they grow as thin as a sawed lath ; their little peepers are as dull as a boiled codfish ; their skin looks like yaller fever ; and they seem all mouth, like a crocodile. And that's not the worst of it, neither ; for when a woman begins to grow sailer, it's all over with her ; she's up a tree then, you may depend, there's no mistake. You can no more bring back her bloom than you can the colour to a leaf the frost has touched in the fall. It's gone goose with her ; that's a fact. And that's not all ; for the temper is plaguy apt to change with the cheek too. When the freshness of youth is on the move, the sweetness of temper is amazin' apt to start along with it. A bilious cheek and a sour temper are like the Siamese twins ; there's a nateral cord of union atween them. The one is a signboard, with the name of the firm written on it in big letters. He that don't know this can't read, I guess. It's no use to cry over spilt milk, we all know ; but it's easier said than done, that. Women-kind, and especially single WINDSOR AND THE FAR WEST 127 on rm folks, will take on dreadful at the fadin' of their roses, and their frettin' only seetns to make the thorns look sharper. Our minister used to say to sister Sail (and when she was young she was a raal witch— ahnost an everlastin' sweet gal), 'Sally,' he used to say, * novv's the time to lam, when you are young. Store your mind well, dear, and the fragrance will remain long arter the rose has shed its leaves. 7 he otter of roses is stronger than the rose, and a flaguy sight more valuable.^ Sail wrote it down. She said it warn't a bad idee, that ; but father larfed. He said he guessed* minister's courtin' days warn't over when he made such pretty speeches as that 'are to the gals. Now, who would go to expose his wife, or his darters, or himself, to the dangers of such a climate, for the sake of thirty bushels of wheat to the acre instead of fifteen ? There seems a kinder somethin' in us that rises in our throat when we think on it, and won't let us. We don't like it. Give me the shore, and let them that like the Far West go there, I say. " This place is as fartile as Illanoy or Ohio, as healthy as any part of the Globe, and right alongside of the salt water ; but the 'folks want three things — Industry, Enterprise, Economy. These blue-noses don't know how to valy this location. Only look at it, and see what a place for business it is — the centre of the Province ; the nateral capital of the Basin of Minas and part of the Bay of Fundy ; the great thoroughfare to St. John, Canada, and the United States ; the exports of lime, gypsum, freestone, and grindstone ; the dykes. But it's no use talkin' ; I wish we had it, that's all. Our folks are like a rock maple-tree — stick 'em in anywhere, but eend up and top down, and they will take root and ^row ; but put 'em in a raal good soil like this, and give 'em a fair chance, and they will go ahead and thrive right off, most amazin' fast ; that's a fact. Yes ; if we had it, we would make another guess place of it from what it is. In one year we would have a railroad to Halifax, which, unlike the stone that killed two birds, would be the makin' of both places. I often tell the folks this ; but all they can say is, ' Oh, we are too poor and too young ! * Says I, * You put me in mind of a great long-legged, long-tailed colt father had. He never changed his name of Colt as long as he lived, and he was as old as the hills, and though he had the best of feed, was as thin as a whippin'-post. He was Colt all his days — always young, always poor ; and young and poor you'll be, I guess, to the eend of the chapter.' " On our return to the inn, the weather, which had been threaten- ing for some time past, became very tempestuous. It rained for three successive days, and the roads were almost impassable. To continue my journey was wholly out of the question. I determined, therefore, to take a seat in the coach for Halifax, and defer until next year the remaining part of my tour. Mr. Slick agreed to meet me here in June, and to provide for me the same conveyance I had used from Amherst. I look forward with much pleasure to our meeting again. His manner and idiom were to me perfectly 1 1 '■^1 1.- 128 THE CLOCKMAKER new, and very amusing ; while his good, sound sense, searching observation, and queer humour rendered his conversation at once valuable and interesting. There are many subjects on which I should like to draw him out ; and I promise myself a fund of amusement in his remarks on the state of society and manners at Halifax, and the machinery of the local government, on both of which he appears to entertain many original and some very just opinions. As he took leave of me in the coach, he whispered : " Inside of your great big cloak you will find wrapped up a box containin' a thousand raal, genuipe, first-chop Havanahs — no mistake ; the clear thing. When you smoke 'em, think sometimes of your old companion, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker." ' '^i:-,' ;;^M:. 1l . . ;,r ^. N THE CLOCKMAKER SECOND SERIES CHAPTER I THE MEETINO Whoever has condescended to read the First Series of "The Clockmaker ; or, The Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick, of Slickville," will recollect that our tour of Nova Scotia termin- ated at Windsor last autumn, in consequence of bad roads and bad weather, and that it was mutually agreed upon between us to resume it in the following spring. But alas ! spring came not. They retain in this country the name of that delij^htful portion of the year, but it is "Vox et preterea nihil." The short space that intervenes between the dissolution of winter and the birth of summer deserves not the tppellation. Vegetation is so rapid here that the valleys are often clothed with verdure before the snow has wholly disappeared from the forest. There is a strong similarity between the native and his climate ; the one is without youth, and the other without spring, and both exhibit the effects of losing that preparatory season. Cultivation is wanting. Neither the mind nor the soil is properly prepared. There is no time. The farmer is compelled to hurry through all his field operations as best he can, so as to commit his grain to the ground in time to ensure a crop. Much is unavoidably omitted that ought to be done, and all is performed in a careless •nd slovenly manner. The same haste is observable in education, and is attended with similar effects. A boy is hurried to school, from school to a profession, and from thence is sent forth into the world before his mind has been duly disciplined or properly cultivated. When I found Mr. Slick at Windsor, I expressed my regret to him that we could not have met earlier in the season ; "but really," said I, " they appear to have no spring in this country." " Well, I don't know," said he ; "I never see'd it in that light afore. I was a-thinkin' we might stump the whole universal world for climate. "9 ■ •-?.-. x: 'r£:::"-^-i n : II ' i^; . .-■■». ■ J 130 THE CLOCKMAKER It's generally allowed our climate in America can't be no better. The spring may be a little short or 3o ; but then it is added to t'other eend, and makes a'most an everlastin' fine autumn. Where will you ditto our fall ? It whips EngUsh weather by a long chalk. None of your hangin', shootin', drownin', throat-cuttin' weather ; but a clear sky and a good breeze — raal cheerfulsome." "That," said I, "is evading the question. I was speaking of the shortness of spring, and not of the comparative merit of your autumn, which, I am ready to admit, is a very charming portion of the year in America. But there is one favour I must beg of you during this tour, and that is, to avoid the practice you indulged in so much last year of exalting everything American by depreciat- ing everything British. This habit is, I assure you, very objection- able, and has already had a very perceptible effect on your national character. I believe I am as devoid of what is called national prejudices as most men, and can make all due allowances for them m others. I have no objection to this superlative praise of your country, its institutions, or its people, provided you do not require me to join in it, or express it in language disrespectful of the English." " Well, well ; if that don't beat all," said he. " You say you have no prejudices, and yet you can't bear to hear tell of our great nation, and our free and enlightened citizens. Captain 'Aul" — (Hall)--"as he called himself (for I never see'd an Englishman yet that spoke good English), said he hadn't one mite or morsel of prejudice, and yet in all his three volumes of travels through the C/nhed States — the greatest nation, it's ginerally allowed, atween the Poles — only found two things to praise : the kindness of our folks to him, and the State prisons. None are so blind, I guess, as them that won't see ; but your folks can't bear it, that's a fact." " Bear what ? " ^aid I. " The superiority of Americans," he replied. " It does seen[i to grig 'em, there's no denyin* it ; it does, comehow or another, se^m to go agin their grain to admit it most consumedly ; nothin' a'most ryles them so much as that. But their sun has set in darkness and sorrow, never again to peer above the horizon. They will be blotted out of the list of nations. Their glory has departed across the Atlantic to fix her everlastin' abode in the £/nited States. Yes ; man to man, baganut to baga- nut, ship to ship, by land or by sea ; fair fight, or rough and tumble, we've whipped 'em ; that's a fact. Deny it who can. And we'll whip 'em agin to all etarnity. We average more physical, moral, and intellectual force than any people on the face of the airth. We are a right-minded, strong-minded, sound- minded, and high-minded people ; I hope I may be shot if we ain't. On fresh or on salt water, on the lakes or the ocean, down comes the red cross, and up go the stars. From Bunker's Hill clean away up to New Orleans, the land teems with the glory of our heroes. Yes ; our young Republic is a colossus, with one foot \ THE MEETING t3x tween |of our guess, at's a s,» he doeSf t most But peer itions. hastin' baga- |h and can. more le face sound- if we down Hill jlory of le foot in the Atlantic and the other in the Pacific, its head above the cverlastin' hills, graspin' in its hands a tri— " " A rifle, shooting squirrels," said I ; " a very suitable employment for such a tall, overgrown, long-legged youngster." " Well, well," said he, resuming his ordinary quiet demeanour, and with that good-humour that distinguished him j " put a rifle, if you will, in his hands ; I guess you'll find he's not a bad shot, neither. But I must see to Old Clay, and prepare for our journey, which is a considerable of a long one, I tell you^^ and taking up his hat, he proceeded to the stable. " Is that fellow mad or drunk ? " said a stranger who came from Halifax with me in the coach. I never heard such a vapouring fool in my life. I had a strong inclination, if he had not taken himself off, to show him out of the door. Did you ever hear such insuflierable vanity ? " "I should have been excessively sorry," I said, "if you had taken any notice of it. He is, I assure you, neither mad oor drunk ; but a very shrewd, intelligent fellow. I met with him accidentally last year while travelling through the eastern part of the Province ; and although I was at first somewhat annoyed at the unceremonious manner in which he forced his acquaintance upon me, I soon found that his knowledge of the Province, its people, and government, might be most useful to me. He has some humour, much anec- dote, and great originality ; he is, in short, quite a character. I have employed him to convey me from this place to Shelbume, and from thence along the Atlantic coast to Halifax. Although not exactly the person one would choose for a travelling com- panion, yet if my guide must also be my companion, I do not know that I could have made a happier selection. He enables me to study the Yankee character, of which, in his particular class, he is a fair sample ; and to become acquainted with their peculiar habits, manners, and mode of thinking. He has just now given you a specimen of their national vanity, which, after all, is, I believe, not much greater than that of the French, though perhaps more loudly and rather differently expressed. He is well-informed, and quite at home on all matters connected with the machinery of the American Government, a subject of much interest to me. The explanations I receive from him enable me to compare it with the British and Colonial constitutions, and throw much li^ht on the speculative projects of our reformers. I have sketched him in every attitude and in every light, and I carefully note down all our conversations; so that I flatter myself, when this tour is completed, I shall know as much of America and Americans as some who have even written a book on the subject." "f'l 'U'. W ■ ? tUv: 132 tHE CLOuKMAICER CHAPTER II THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM The day after our arrival at Windsor being Sunday, we were compelled to remain there until the following Tuesday, so as to have one day at our command to visit the College, Retreat Farm, and the other objects of interest in the neighbourhood. One of the inhabitantSiJiaving kindly offered me a seat in his pew, I accompanied him to the church, which, for the convenience of the college, was built nearly a mile from the village. From him I learned that, independently of the direct influence of the Church of England upon its own members, who form a very numerous and respectable portion of the inhabitants of Nova Scotia, its indirect operation has been both extensive and important in this colony. The friends of the establishment having at an early period founded a college, and patronised education, the professions'have been filled with scholars and gentlemen ; and the natural and very proper emulation of other sects being thus awakened to the im- portance of the subject, they have been stimulated to maintain and endow academies of their own. The general diffusion through the country of a well-educated body of clergymen hke those of the establishment, has had a strong tendency to raise the standard of qualification among those who differ from them,"^*^hile the habits, manners, and regular conduct of so respectable a body of men naturally and unconsciously modulate and influence those of their neighbours who may not, perhaps, attend their ministrations. It is, there- fore, among other causes, doubtless owing in a great measure to the exertions and salutary example of the Church in the colonies, that a higher tone of moral feeling exists in the British provinces than in the neighbouring States, a claim which I find very generally put forth in this country, and though not exactly admitted, yet certainly not denied even by Mr. Slick himself. The suggestions of this gentleman induced me to make some inquiries of the Clockmaker connected with the subject of an establishment. I therefore asked him what his opinion was of the Voluntary System. " Well, I don't know," said he. " What is your'n ? " "I am a member," I replied, " of the Church of England. You may therefore easily suppose what my opinion is." "And I am a citizen," said he, laughing, "of Slickville, Onion County, State of Connecticut, United States of America. You may therefore guess what my opinion is too. I reckon we are even now, aren't we .'' To tell you the truth," said he, " I never thought much about it. I've been a considerable; of a v,:-v. ^ THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM 133 .iii- .'t^ traveller in my day ; a-rovin' about here, and there, and every- where ; a-tradin' wherever I see'd a good chance of making a speck ; paid my shot into the plate whenever it was handed round in meetin', and axed no questions. It was about as much as I could cleverly do to look arter my own consarns, and I left the ministers to look arter their'n ; but, take *em in a gineral way, they are pretty well-to-do in the world with us, especially as they have the women on their side. Whoever has the women is sure of the men, you may depend. Squire ; openly or secretly, directly or indirectly, they do contrive, somehow or another, to have their own way in the cend ; and tho' the men have the reins, the women tell 'em which way to drive. Now, if ever you go for to canvass for votes, always canvass the wives, and you are sure of the husbands. " I recollect when I was last up to Alabama, to one of the new cities lately built there, I was a-walkin' one mornin' airly out o' town to get a leetle fresh air (for the weather was so plaguy sultry I could hardly breathe a'most), and I see'd a'most a splendid loca- tion there near the road ; a beautiful white two-storey house, with a grand virandah runnin' all round it, painted green, and green vernitians to the winders, and a white pallisade fence in front lined with a row of Lombardy poplars, and two rows of 'era ' idin' up to the front door, like two files of sodgers with fixt ^ \.ganuts. Each side of the avcnu' was a grass-plot, and a beautiful image of Adam stood in the centre of one on 'em, and of Eve (with a fig leaf apron on) in t'other, made of wood by a TL^itive artist, and painted so nateral no soul could tell 'em from stone. "The avenu' was all planked beautiful, and it was lined with flowers in pots and jars, and looked a touch above common, I tell you. While I was a-stoppin' to look at it, who should drive by but the milkman with his cart. Says I, * Stranger,' says I, * I suppose you don't know who lives here, do you?' 'I guess you are a stranger,' says he, 'ain't you?' 'Well,' says I, 'I don't exactly know as I ain't. But who lives here ? ' * The Rev. Ahab Meldrum,' said he, ' I reckon. ' Ahab Meldrum 1 ' said I to myself. * I wonder if he can be the Ahab Meldrum I was to school with to Slickville, to minister's, when we was boys ? It can't be possible it's him, for he was fitter for a State's prisoner than a State's preacher, by a long chalk. He was a poor stick to make a preacher on ; for minister couldn't beat nothin' into him a'most, he was so cussed stupid. But I'll see, anyhow,' so I walks right through the gate, and raps away at the door ; and a tidy, well-rigged nigger help opens it, and shows me into a'most an elegant famished room. I was most darnted to sit down on the chairs, they were so splendid, for fear I should spile 'em. There was mirrors, and varses, and lamps, and pictur's, and crinkum- crankums, and notions of all sorts and sizes in it. It looked like Kf~^: 134 THE CLOCKMAKER a bazaar a'most, it was filled with such an everlastin' sight of curiosities. " The room was considerable dark, too, for the blinds was shot, and I was skeered to move for fear o' doing mischief. Presently in came Ahab, slowly sailin' in, like a boat droppin' down stream in a calm, with a pair o' purple slippers on, and a figured silk dressin'-gound; and carrying a'most a beautiful bound book in his hand. * May I presume,' says he, ' to inquire who I have the onexpected pleasure of seein' this mornin' ?' 'If you'll jist throw open one o' them 'are shutters,' says I, * I guess the light will save us the trouble o' axing names. I know who you be by your voice, anyhow, tho' it's considerable softer than it was ten years ago. I'm Sam Slick,' says I ; * what's left o' me, at least.' ' Verily,' said he, * friend Samuel, I'm glad to see you. And how did you leave that excellent man and distinguished scholar, the Rev. Mr. Hope- well, and my good friend your father ? Is the old gentleman still ahve? If so, he must now be ripeful of years as he is full of honours. Your mother, I think, I heerd was dead — gathered to her fathers. Peace be with her ! She had a good and a kind heart. I loved her as a child ; but the Lord taketh whom He loveth.' ' Ahab,' says I, * I have but a few minutes to stay with you ; and if you think to draw the wool over my eyes, it might, perhaps, take you a longer time than you are a-thinkin' on, or than I have to spare. There are some friends you've forgot to inquire after, tho' ; there's Polly Bacon and her little boy.' " * Spare me, Samuel 1 spare me, my friend ! ' said he. * Open not that wound afresh, I beseech thee.' ' Well,' says I, * none o' your nonsense, then. Show me into a room where I can spit, and feel at home, and put my feet upon the chairs without a-damagirf things, and I'll sit and smoke, and chat with you a few minutes ; in fact, I don't care if I stop and breakfast with you, for I feel con- siderable peckish this mornin'. * Sam,' says he, a-takin' hold of my hand, you was always right up and down, and as straight as a shingle in your dealin's. I can trust you^ I know ; but mind ' — and he put his fingers on his lips — * mum is the word ; bygones are bygones. You wouldn't blow an old chum among his friends, would you?' *I scorn a nasty, dirty, mean action,' says I, *as I do a nigger.' 'Come ! foUer me, then,' says he, and he led me into a back room, with an oncarpeted, painted floor, famished plain, and some shelves in it, with books, and pipes and cigars, pigtail, and what not. ' Here's liberty hall,' says he. * Chew, or smoke, or spit as you please ; do as you like here. We'll throw off all resarve now. But mind that cussed nigger ; he has a foot like a cat, and an ear for every keyhole. Don't talk too loud. " 'Well, Sam,' said he, ' I'm glad to see you too, my boy ; it puts me in mind of old times. Many's the lark you and I have had together in Slickville, when old Hunks' — (It made me start, that. He meant Mr. Hopewell, and it made me feel kinder dandry at . At . THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM 135 )UtS [had Ihat. |y ^t him ; for I wouldn't let anyone speak disrespectfully of him afore me for nothin', I know) — * when old Hunks thought we was a-bed. Them was happy days — the days o' light heels and light heart?. I often think on 'em ; and think on 'em, too, with pleasure.' *Well, Ahab,' says I, 'I don't jist altogether know as I do. There are some things we might jist as well a'most have left alone, I reckon. But what's done is done ; that's a fact.' * Ahem I' said he, so loud I looked round, and I see'd two niggers bringing in the breakfast — and a grand one it was— tea and coffee, and Indgian corn and cakes, and hot bread and cold bread ; fish, fowl, and flesh, roasted, boiled, and fried ; pre- sarves, pickles, fruits—in short, everythin' a'most you could think on. ' You needn't wait,' said Ahab to the blacks. * I'll ring for you when I want you. We'll help ourselves.' " Well, when I looked round and see'd this critter a-livin* this way, on the fat o' the land, up to his knees in clover like, it did pose me considerable to know how he worked it so cleverly ; for he was thought always, as a boy, to be rather more than half onder-baked — consideralle soft-like. So says I, 'Ahab,' says I, * I calculate you're like the cat we used to throw out of minister's garret winder, when we was a-boardin' there to school.' ' How so, Sam ?' said he. * Why,' says I, * you always seem to come on your feet somehow or another. You have got a plaguy nice thing of it here ; that's a fact, and no mistake ' — (the critter had three thousand dollars a year). * How on airth did you manage it ? I wish in my heart I had a-taken up the trade o' preachin' too. When it does hit, it does capitally, that's sartain.' * Why,' says he, ' if you'll promise not to let on to anyone about it, I'll tell you.' * I'll keep d.wk about it, you may depend,' said I. * I'm not a man that can't keep nothin' in my gizzard, but go right off and blart out all I hear. I know a thing worth two o' that, I guess.' * Well,' says he, * it's done by a new rule I made in grammar : the feminine gender is more worthy than the neuter, and the neuter more worthy than the masculine. I jist soft sawder the women. It ain't every man will let you tickle him ; and if you do, he'll make faces at you enough to frighten you into fits. But tickle his wife, and it's electrical ; he'll laugh like anythin'. They are the forred wheels ; start them, and the hind ones foller, of course. Now, it's mostly women that 'tend meetin' here. The men-folks have their politics and trade to talk over, and what not, and han't time ; but the ladies go consider- able rigular — and we have to depend on them, the dear critters ! I jist lay myself out to get the blind side o' them, and I sugar and gild the pill so as to make it pretty to look at and easy to swaller. Last Lord's Day, for instance, I preached on the death of the widder's son. Well, I drew such a pictur' of the lone watch at the sick-bed ; the patience, the kindness, the tenderness of women's hearts ; their forgivin' disposition — (the Lord forgive me for saying so ; for if there is a created critter that never forgives, it's a woman. u 'I li < i i ; 136 THE CLOCKMAKER They stem to forgive a wound on their pride, and it skins over and looks all heal'd up like ; but touch 'em on the sore spot agin, and see how 'cute their memory is) — their sweet tempers, soothers of grief, dispensers of joy, ministerin' angels. I make all the vartues of the feminine gender always ; then I wound up with a quotation from Walter Scott — (they all like poetry, do the ladies, and Shake- speare, Scott, and Byron are amazin' favourites ; they go down much better than them old-fashioned staves of Watts) : • •• Oh, woman, in our hour of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, '' • And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made : When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministerin' angel thou." If I didn't touch it off to the nines, it's a pity. " I never heerd you preach so well," says one, " since you was located here." " I drew from natur*," says I, a-squeezin' of her hand. " Nor never so touchin'," says another." "You know my moddle," says I, lookin' spooney on her. " I fairly shed tears," says a third. " How often have you drawn them from me ? " says I. " So true," says they, " and so nateral ; and truth and natur' is what we call eloquence." " I feel quite proud," says I, " and consider- ably elated, my admired sisters ; for who can judge so well as the ladies of the truth of the description of their own vartues ? I must say I felt somehow kinder inadequate to the task, too," I said ; " for the depth, and strength, and beauty of the female heart passes all understandin'." " * When I left 'em, I heard 'em say, " Ain't he a dear man, a feelin' man, a sweet critter — a'most a splendid preacher 1 None o' your mere moral lecterers ; but a raal right-down, genum^ gospel preacher." Next day I received to the tune of one hundred dollars in cash and fifty dollars produce — presents from one and another. The truth is, if a minister wants to be popular, he should remain single, for then the gals all have a chance for him ; but the moment he marries, he's up a tree ; his flint is fixed then. You may depend,' it's gone goose with him arter that ; that's a fact. No, Sam ; they are the pillars of the temple — the dear little critters I And I'll give you a wrinkle for your horn perhaps you ain't got yet, and it may be some use to you when you go down a-tradin' with the benighted colonists in the outlandish British provinces. TAe road to the head lies through the heart! * Pocket, you mean, instead of head, I guess,' said I ; *and if you don't travel that road full-chisel, it's a pity. Well,' says I, ' Ahab, when I go to Slickville, I'll jist tell Mr. Hopewell what a'most a precious, superfine, superior, dam'd rascal you have turned out. If you ain't No. I, letter A., I want to know who is, that's all.' * You do beat all, Sam,' said he. * It's the system ihafs vicious^ and not the THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM 137 preacher. If I didn't give 'em the soft sawder, they would neither pay me nor hear me ; that's a fact. Are you so soft in the horn now, Sam, as to suppose the gals would take the trouble to come to hear me tell 'em of their corrupt natur' and fallen conditicm ; and first thank me, and then pay me for it ? Very entertainin' that, to tell 'em the worms will fatten on their pretty little rosy clieeks ; and that their sweet, plump flesh is nothin' but grass — flourishin' to-day, and to be cut down, withered and rotten, to-morrow — ain't it ? It ain't in the natur' o' things, if I put them out o' concait o' themselves, I can put them in concait o' me ; or they that will come down handsome, and do the thing genteel. It's jist onpossible. It warn't me made the system, but the system made me. The voluntary dorit work nveU.'* " ' System or no system,' said I, ' Ahab, you are Abab still, and Ahab you'll be to the eend of the chapter. You may deceive the women by soft sawder, and yourself by talkin' about systems : but you won't walk into me so easy, I know. It ain't pretty at all. Now,' said I, * Ahab, I told you I wouldn't blow you, nor will I. I will neither speak o' things past, nor things present.' ' I know you wouldn't, Sam,' said he. * You was always a good feller.' * But it's on one condition,' says I, ' and that is, that you allow Polly Bacon a hundred dollars a year. She was a good gal, and a dacent gal, when you first know'd her, and she's in great distress now in Slickville, I tell^ow.' 'That's onfair ; that's onkind, Sam,' said he; * that's not the clean thing. I can't afford it. It's a breach of confidence this. But you got me on the hip, and I can't help myself. Say fifty dollars, and I will.' * Done,' said I. 'And mind you're up to the notch, for I'm in airnest ; there's no mistake.' * Depend upon me,' said he. * And, Sam,' said he, a-shakin' hands along with me at parting — ' excuse me, my good feller, but I hope I may never have the pleasure to see your face agin.' ' Ditto,' says I ; * but mind the fifty dollars a year, or you will see me to a sartainty. Good-bye ! ' " How different this cussed critter was from poor, dear, good old Joshua Hopewell ! I see'd him not long arter. On my return to Connecticut, jist as I was a-passin' out o' Molasses into Onion County, who should I meet but minister, a-mounted upon his horse, old Captain Jack. Jack was a racker, and in his day about as good a beast as ever hoisted tail— (You know what a racker is, don't you, Squire ? " said the Clockmaker. " They brings up the two feet on one side first, together like, and then t'other two at once, the same way ; and they do get over the ground at a'most an amazin' size, that's sartain) — but, poor old critter, he looked Sretty streaked. You could count his ribs as far as you could see im, and his skin was drawn so tight over him, every blow of minister's cane on him sounded like a drum, he was so holler. A candle poked into him lighted would have shown through him like a lantern. He carried his head down to his knees, and the hide '^ "i •t ,1 I* "J if! it^ '% 4' «*' :i ■ '\\ '4, ■ la 138 THE CLOCKMAKER seemed so scant a pattern, he showed his teeth like a cross dog ; and it started his eyes, and made 'em look all outside like a weasel's. He actilly did look as if he couldn't help it. Minister had two bags rolled up, and tied on behind him like a portmanter, and was a-joggin' on a-lookin' down on his horse, and the horse a-lookin' down on the road, as if he was seekin' a soft spot to tumble (^pwn upon. *' It was curious to see Captain Jack, too, when he heerd Old Clay a-comin' along full split behind him. He cocked up his head and tail, and pricked up his ears, and looked cornerways out of his eye, as much as to say, ' If you are for a lick of a quarter of a mile, I don't feel much up to it. But I'll try you, anyway; so here's at you.' He did try to do pretty, that's sartain ; as if he was ashamed of lookin* so like old Scratch, just as a feller does up the shirt collar and combs his hair with his fingers afore he goes into the room among the gals. *' The poor skilliton of a beast was ginger to the backbone, you may depend ; all clear grit. What there was of him was whale- bone ; that's a fact. But minister had no rally about him. He was proper chopfallen, and looked as dismal as if he had lost every friend that he had on airth. * Why, minister,' says I, ' what onder the sun is the matter of you ? You and Captain Jack look as if you had had the cholera. What makes you so dismal, and your horse so thin ? What's out o' joint now ? Nothin' has gone wrong, I hope, since I left.' * Nothin' has gone right with me, Sam, of late,' said he. * I've been sorely tried with affliction, and my spirit is fairly humbled. I've been more insulted this day, my son, than I ever was afore in all my born days.' ' Minister,' says I, * I've jist one favour to ax o' you : give me the sinner's name, and afore daybreak to-morrow mornin' I'll bring him to a reck'nin', and see how the balance stands. I'll kick him from here to Washin'ton, and from Washin'ton back to Slickville ; and then I'll cow-skin him till this ridin'-whip is worn up to shoe-strings, and pitch him clean out o' the State. The infarnal villain I Tell me who he is ? and if he war as big as all out-doors, I'd walk into him. I'll teach him the road to good manners, if he can save eye- sight -to see it — hang me if I don't. I'd like no better fun, I vow. So jist show me the man that darst insult you, and if he does so agin, I'll give you leave to tell me of it.' * Thank you, Sam,' says he ; " thank you, my boy ; but it's beyond your help. It ain't a parsonal affront of that natur', but a spiritual affront. It ain't an affront offered to me as Joshua Hopewell, so much as an affront to the minister of Slickville.' * That is worse still,' said I, ' because you can't resent it yourself. Leave him to me, and I'll fix his flint for him.' " * It's a long story, Sam, and one to raise grief, but not anger. You mustn't talk or think of fightin' ; it's not becomin' a Chris- tian man. But here's my poor habitation ; put up your horse, and i THE VOLUNTARY SYSTEM 139 come in, and we'll talk this affair over by-and-bye. Come in and sec me ; for sick as I am, both in body and mind, it will do me good. You was always a kind-hearted boy, Sam, and I'm glad to see the heart in the right place yet. Come in, my son.' Well, when we got into the house, and sot down, says I, ' Minister, what the dickens was them two great rolls o' canvas for I see'd snugged up and tied to your crupper ? You looked like a man who had taken his grist to mill, and was returnin' with the bags for another. What onder the sun had you in them ?' ' I'll tell you, Sam,' said he. * You know,' said he, * when you was to home, we had a State tax for the support o' the Church, and every man had to pay his share to some church or another.' * I mind,' says I, 'quite well.' * Well,' said he, *the inimy of souls has been at work among us, and instigated folks to think this was too compulsory for a free people, and smelt too strong of establishments, and the Legislatur' repealed the law ; so now, instead o' havin' a rigilar legal stipend, we have what they call the Voluntary : every man pays what he likes, when he likes, and to whom he likes ; or if it don't convene him, he pays nothin'. Do you apprehend me?' 'As clear as a boot-jack,' says I ; 'nothin' could be plainer. And I suppose that some o' your factory people that make canvas has given vou a present of two rolls of it to make bags to hold your pay in?' ' My breeches-pockets,' says he, ' Sam,' a-shakin' of his head, ' I estimate, are big enough for that. No, Sam ; some subscribe, and some don't. Some say, "We'll give, but we'll not bind ourselves," and some say, " We'll see about it." Well, I'm e'en a'most starved, and Captain Jack looks as poor as Job's turkey ; that's a fact. So I thought, as times was hard, I'd take the bags, and get some oats for him from some of my subscribin' congregation ; it would save them the cash, and suit me just as well as the blunt. Wherever I went, I might have filled my bags with excuses, but I got no oats. But that wam't the worst of it, neither ; they turned the tables on me, and took me to task. A new thing that for me, I guess, in my old age, to stand up to be catekised like a corvarted heathen. "Why don't you," says one, "jine the Temperance Society, minister ? " " Because," says I, " there's no warrant for it m Scriptur*, as I see. A Christian obligation to sobriety is, in my mind, afore an engagement on honour." " Can't think," says he, "of payin' to a minister that countenances drunkenness." Says another, "Minister, do you smoke?" "Yes," says I ; " I do some- times. And I don't care if I take a pipe along with you now ; it seems sociable like." " Well," says he, " it's an abuse o' the critter, a waste o' valuable time, and an encouragefnent of slavery. I don't pay to upholders of the slave system ; I go the whole figur* for abolition." One found me too Calvinistic, and another too Armenian ; one objected to my praying for the President, for he said he was an everlastin' almighty rascal ; another to my wearin' a gownd, for it was too Popish. In short, I git nothin' but objec- I 140 THE CLOCKMAKER tions to a'most everything I do or say, and I see considerable plain my income is gone. I may work lor nothin', and find ihrrad now, if I choose. The only one that paid me cheated me. Says he, " Minister, I've been a-lookin' for you for some time past to pay my contribution, and I laid by twenty dollars for you." "Thank you," said I, " friend, but that is more than your share ; ten dollars, I think, is the amount of your subscription." " Well," says he, " I know that ; but I like to do things handsum, and he who gives to. minister lends to the Lord. But," says he, " I'm afeerd it won't turn out so much now, for the bank has failed since. It's a pity you hadn't a-called afore ; but you must take the will for the deed," and he handed me a roll of the Bubble Bank paper, that ain't worth a cent. "Are you sure," said I, "that you put this aside for me when it was good ?" " Oh, sartain ! " says he ; " I'll take my oath of it." " There's no 'casion for chat," says I. " friend ; " nor for me to take more than my due, neither. Here are ten of them back again. I hope you may not lose them altogether, as I fear I shall." But he cheated me ; I know he did. " * This is the blessin' of the Voluntary, as far as I'm consarned. Now, I'll tell you how it's a-goin' for to work upon them ; not through my agency, tho', for I'd die first afore I'd do a wrong thing to gain the universal world. But what are you a-doin' of, Sam,' said he, * a-crackin' of that whip so ? ' says he. ' You'll e'en a'most deafen me.' 'A tryin' of the spring of it,' says I. *The night afore I go down to Nova Scotia, I'll teach 'em Connecticut quickstep ; I'll lam 'em to make somersets ; I'll make 'em cut more capers than the caravan monkey ever could to save his soul alive, I know. I'll quilt 'em, as true as my name is Sam Slick ; and if they follers me down east, I'll lambaste them back a plaguy sight quicker than they came, the nasty, dirty, mean, sneaking villains I I'll play them a voluntary ; I'll fa, la, sol them to a jig tune, and show 'em how to count baker's dozen. Crack, crack, crack ! that's the music, minister. Crack, crack, crack ! I'll set all Slickville a-yelpin'.' " ' I'm in trouble enough, Sam,' says he, 'without addin' that 'are to it. Don't quite break my heart, for such carryin's on would near about kill me. Let the poor, deluded critters be ; promise me, now.' ' Well, well,' says I, ' if you say so, it shall be so ; but I must say, I long to be at 'em. But how is the Voluntary a-goin' for to operate on them ? Emitic, diuretic, or purgative, eh ? I hope it will be all three ; and turn them inside out, the ungrateful scoundrils I and yet not be jist strong enough to turn them back agin.' * Sam, you're, an altered man,' says he. ' It appears to me the whole world is changed. Don't talk so onchristian. We must forget and forgive. They will be the greatest sufferers them- selves, poor critters ! Havin' destroyed the independence of their minister, jtheir minister will pander to their vanity ; he will be afeerd to tell them unpalatable truths. Instead of telUn' 'em they r-^ -A •.fcu K TRAINING A CARRIBOO 141 are miserable sinners in need of repentance, he will tell 'em tliey are a great n;^tion and a great people ; will quote history n»ore than the Bible, and give *em orations, not sarnions ; encomiums, and not censures. Presents, Sam, will bribe indulijencies. The minister will be a dunC dog/' ' It sarves 'em right,' says I. 'I don't care what becomes of them. I hope they will be dum^ doj^s, for dum' dogs bite ; and if they drive you mad — and I believe from my soul they will — I hope you'll bite every one on 'em. "*But,' says I, 'minister, talkin' of presents, I've got one for you that's somethin' like the thing, I know,' and I took out my pocket-book and gave him a hundred dollars ; I hope I may be shot if I didn't, I felt so sorry for him. " 'Who's this from ?' said he, smilin'. ' From Alabama,' said I ; * but the giver told me not to mention his name.' • Well,' said he, * I'd a-rather he'd 'a sent me a pound of good Varginy pig-tail, because I could have thanked him for that, and not felt too much obligation. Presents of money injure both the giver and receiver^ and destroy the equilibrium of friendships and diminish indepen- dence and self-respect. But it's all right. It will enable me to send neighbour Dearbourn's two sons to school. It will do good. Cute little fellers them, Sam ; and will make considerable smart men, if they are properly see'd to. But the old gentleman, their father, is, like myself, nearly used up, and plaguy poor.' Thinks I, ' If that's your sort, old gentleman, I wish I had my hundred dollars in my pocket-book agin, as snug as a bug in a rug ; and neighbour Dearbourn's two sons might go and whistle for their schoolin'. Who the plague cares whether they have any larnin' or not ? I'm sure I don't. It's the first of the Voluntary system, I'm sure, and I guess it will be the last.' " Yes^ yeSy Squire^ the Voluntary don^t work well; that's a fact. Ahab has lost his soul to save his body, minister has lost his body to save his soul, and Pve lost my hundred dollars slap to save my feelings* The deuce take the Voluntary ^ I say / " 1 It i| CHAPTER III 'm TRAINING A CARRIBOO In the evening we sauntered out on the bank of the river, Mr. SHck taking his rifle with him to shoot blue-winged duck, that often float up the Avon with the tide in great numbers. He made several shots with remarkable accuracy ; but having no dogs, we lost all the birds, but two, in the eddies of this rapid river. It was a delightful evening, and on our return we ascended the cliff that overlooks the village and the surrounding country, and sat down 142 THE CLOCKMAKER on the projecting point of limestone rock to enjoy the glories ot the sunset. " This evenin'," said Mr. Slick, '* reminds me of one I spent in the same way at Toronto, in Upper Canada, and of a conversation I had with a British traveller there. There was only himself and me in the inn, and havin' nothin' above partikilar to do, says I. * 'S'pose we take the rille, and walk down by the lake this splendid afternoon ? Wiio knows but we might see some'hin* or another to shoot.' So off we set ; and it was so cool at-d pleasant, we strolled a considerable distance up the beach, whico is like this — all limestone gravel, only cleaner, and less sediment in it. " When we got tired of the glare of the water, and a nasty yaller scum that was on it at that season, we turned up a road that led into the woods. * Why,' says I, ' if there ain't a carriboo, as I'm alive 1 ' * Where ? ' said he, seizin' the rifle, and bringin' it to his shoulder with great eagerness. * Where is it ? For Heaven sake, let me have a shot at it I I have long wished,' said he, ' to have it to say, before I leave the Province, that I have performed that feat of killin' a carriboo.' * Oh, Lord ! ' said I, throwin' up the point of the gun to prevent an accident — ' oh, Lord 1 it ain't one o' them 'are sorts o' critters at all ; it's a human carriboo. It's a member — him that's in that 'arc g'l^^ lookin' as wise as a barber's block with a new wig on it. The Toronto folks call 'em carriboos, 'cause they are ontamed, wild critters from the woods, and come down in droves to the Legislatur'. I guess he's a-goin' to spend the night at the hotel where we be ; if he is, I'll bring him into our room and train him. You'll see what sort o' folks make laws some- times. I do believe, arter all,' says I, ' this universal suflfrage will make universal fools of us all. It ain't one man in a thousand knows how to choose a horse, much less a member ; and yet there are some standin' rules about the horse that most anyone can lam, if he'll give his mind to il. There's the mark o' mouth ; tlien there's the limbs — shape, mark, and soundness of 'em ; the eye, the shoulder ; and, above all, the action. It seems all plain enough ; and yet it takes a considerable cute man to make a horse-jockey, and a little grain of the rogue too — for there is no mistake about the matter ; you must lie a few to put 'em off well. Now, that's only the lowest grade of knowledge ; it takes more skill yet to be a nigger-jockey.' ' A nigger-jockey ?' said he. ' For Heaven's sake 1 what is that ? I never heerd the term afore, since I was a created sinner ; I hope I may be shot if I did.' * Possible!* said I. ' Never heerd tell of a nigger-jockey ? My sakes 1 you must come to the States, then. We'll put more wrinkles on your horns in a month there than you'll get in twenty years here, for these critters don't know nothin'. A nigger -jockey, sir,' says I, *is a gentleman that trades in niggers — buys them in one State, and sells them in another where they aren't known. It's a beautiful science is nigger flesh ; it's what the lawyers call a liberal pro- TRAINING A CARRIBOO 143 fcssion. Uncle Enoch made enough in one year's tradin' in niggers to buy a splendid plantation ; but it ain't everyone that's up to it. A nnn must have his eye-teeth cut afore he takes up that trade, or he is apt to be let in (or it himself, instead of puttm' a leake into others ; that's a fact. Niggers don't show their age like white folk, and they are 'most always older than they look. A little rest, ilein' the joints, good feed, a clean shirt, a false tooth or two, and dyein' the wool black if it's got grey, keepin' 'em close- shaved, and jist givin' 'em a glass of whisky or two afore the sale to brighten up the eye, has put off many an old nigger of fifty-five for forty. It does more than trimmin' and <;roomin' a horse, by a long chalk. Then if a man knows geography, he fixes on a spot in next State for meetin' agin, slips a few dollars in Sambo's hand, and Sambo slips the halter off in the manger, meets massa there, and is sold a second time agin. Wash the dye out, let the beard grow, and remove the tooth, and the devil himself couldn't swear to him agin. " ' If it takes so much knowledge to choose a horse, or choose a nigger, what must it take to choose a member f Who knows he won't give the people the slip as Sambo does the first master ? Ay, and look as different, too, as a nigger does when the dye rubs out, and his black wool looks white agin. Ah, Squire, there are tricks in all trades, I clo believe, except the clock trade ! The nigger business,' says I, * is apt to get a man into court, too, as much as the horse trade, if he don't know the quirks of the law. 1 shall never forget a joke I passed off once on a Southerner. I had been down to Charleston, South Car., where brother Siah is located as a lawyer, and drives a considerable business in that line. Well, one day, as I was a-walkin* along out o' town, a-smokin' of my cigar, who should I meet but a poor old nigger, with a'most an almighty heavy load of pine wood on his back, as much as he could cleverly stagger onder. " Why, Sambo," says I, " whose slave be you ? You've got a considerable of a heavy load there for a man of your years." " Oh, massa," says he, " Gor Ormighty bless you ! " and he laid down his load, and puttin* one hand on his loins, and t'other on his thigh, he tried to straighten himself up. " I free man now ; I no longer slave no more. I purchased my freedom from Gineral Crockodile — him that keeps public at Mud Creek. Oh, massa 1 but him Gineral took me in terrible, by gosh I Says he, * Pompey,' says he, *you one werry good nigger, werry faithful nigger. I great opinion of you, Pompey. I make a man of you, you dam' old tar-brush ; I hope I may be skinned alive with wild cats if I don't. How much money you save. Pomp?' ' Hunder dollars,' says I.' * Well,' says he, ' I will sell you your freedom for that 'are little sum.' * Oh, Massa Gineral,' I said, * I believe I lib and die wid you. What old man like me do now ? I too old for fireeman. Oh, no, massa 1 leab poor old Pomp to die among de m i !l I' 'M\ 144 THE CLOCKMAKER niggers. I 'tend young Massa Gineral, and little Missy Gineral, and teach 'em how to cow-skin de black villains.* * Oh, you smart map yet 1 ' he says — ' quite sound; werry smart man. You aim a great deal o' money. I too great regard for 'you to keep you slave any longer.* Well, he persuade me at last, and I buy freedom, and now I starve. I hab no one to take care of me now ; I old, and good for nothin*. I wish old Pomp very much dead," and he boo-hooed right out like a child. " Then he sold you to yourself, did he ? " said I. " Yes, massa,*' said he ; " and here de paper and de bill ob sale.'* " And he told you you sound man yet ? '* " True, massa, ebbery word." "Then," says I, "come along with me," and I ^oated him along into Siah's office. " Sy," says I, " here's a job for you. Gineral Crockodile sold this poor old nigger to him- self, and warrinted him sounds wind and limb. He cheated him, like a cantin', hypocritical sinner as he is ; for he's foundered in the right foot, and ringboned on the left. Sue him on his warrantry ; there's some fun in't." " Fun 1 " said Sy. " I tell you it's a capital joke," and he jumped up and danced round his office, a-snappin' of his fingers, as if he wor bit by a galley- nipper. " How it will conflustrigrate old Sim lUeter, the judge, won't it ? I'll bambousle him. I'll befogify his brain for him with warranties — general, special, and implied — texts, notes, and comentries. I'll lead him a dance through civil law, and common law, and statute law. Ill read old Latin, old French, and old English to him. I'll make his head turn like a millstone ; I'll make him stare like an owl a-tryin' to read by daylight," and he larfed ready to kill himself. Sure enough he did bother him so, a-goin* up from one court to another, that Crocodile was glad to compound the matter to get clear of the joke, and paid old Pomp his hundred dollars back agin ; that's a fact.* " In the course of the evenin', Mr. Buck, the member-elect for the township of Flats, in the Home district, came in, and I intro- duced him with much ceremony to the Britisher, a-givin' of him a wink at the same time, as much as to say, ' Now, I'll show you the way to train a carriboo.' 'Well, Squire Buck,' said I, ' I vow I'm glad to see you. How did you leave Mrs. Buck, and all at home ? AH well, I hope ?' 'Reasonable well, I give you thanks, sir,' said he. * And so they've elected you a member, eh ? Well, they wanted that's a fact — and some onder* you go — Tory or Radical ? * ' Oh, some honest men among 'em standin' men too. How do pop'lar side, of course 1 ' said Mr. Buck. * M'Kenzie and Papineau have opened my eyes, I tell you. I had no notion afore our Government was so rotten. I'm for elective councils, short parlia- ments, ballot, universal suffiragc, and agin all officials.' ' Right,* said I ; ' you are on the right side, then, and no mistake. You've a plain path afore you. Go straight ahead, and there's no fear.* * I should like to do so,' said he, ' but I don't onderstand these matters enough ; I'm afeerd to probe 'em to the bottom. Perhaps TRAINING A CARRlBOO t45 you'll be so good as to advise me a little. I should like to talk over these things with you, as they say you are a considerable of an onderstandin' man, and have see'd a good deal of the world.' 'Well,' said I, ' nothin' would happify me more, I do assure you. Be independent ; that's the great thing — be independent ; that is, attack everything^. First of all, there's the Church ; that's a grand target. Fire away at that till you are tired. Raise a prejudice if you cnn^ and then make everything a Church ques- tion^ ' But I'm a Churchman myself, Mr. Slick. You wouldn't have me attack my own church, would you?' 'So much the better,' said I. 'It looks liberal. True liberality, as far as my experience goes^ lies in praisin^ every other church, and abusin' of your own. It's only bigots that attack other folks' doctrine and tenets. No strong-minded, straight-ahead, right up-and- down man does that. It shows a narrer mind and narrer heart that.' ' But what fault is there with the Church ?' said he. 'They mind their own business, as far as I see, and let other folks alone ; they have no privilege here, that I know on, that other sects han't got.' ' It's pop'lar talk among some folks, and that's enough,' said I. ' They are rich, and their clergy are larned and genteel ; and there's a good many envious peopl.: in the world. There's radicals in religion as well as in politics, that would like to see 'em all brought to a level. And then there's church lands : talk about dividin' them among other sects, givin' them to schools, and so on. There's no harm in robbing Peter, if you pay Paul with it — a fair exchange is no robbery, all the world over. Then wind up with a church tithe sale, and a military massacre of a poor dis- sentin' old woman that was baganuted by bloody-minded sodgers while tryin' to save her pig. It will make an affectin' speech, draw tears from the gallery, and thunders of applause from the House. "'Then there's judges — another grand mark — and councillors and rich men ; call 'em the little big men of a little colony, the would-be aristocracy, the official gang, the favoured few ; call them by their christian and surnames — John Den and Richard Fen. Turn up your nose at 'em like a horse's tail that's double-nicked. Salaries are a never-ending theme for you. Officials shouldn't be paid at all ; the honour is enough for 'em. A patriot sarves his country for nothin'. Take some big salary for a text, and treat it in this way. Says you : There's John Doe's salary, it is seven hundred and thirty pounds a year ; that is two pounds a day. Now, says you, that is sixteen common labourers' pay at two-and- sixpence each per day. Shall it be said that one great mammoth official is worth sixteen free citizens, who toil harder and fare wor.se than he does ? Then take his income for ten years, and multiply it. See, says you, in ten years he has received the enormous sum of seven thousand five hundred pounds. Then run over all the things seven thousand five hundred pounds would efi"ect on roads, bridges, schools, and so on> and charge him with havin' been the / 146 THE CLOCKMAKER means of robbin' the country of all these blessin's.; call 'em blood- suckers, pampered minions, bloated leeches. Then there's the college. Says you : It's for the aristocracy, to keep up distinctions, to rivit our fetters, to make the rich richer, and the strong stronger. Talk of xiditive genius and self-taught artists, of natures scholars, of homespun talent ; it flatters the multitude this ; it's pop'lar, you may depend. Call the troops mercenaries, vile hirelings, degraded slaves ; turn up your eyes to the ceilin', and invoke defeat and slaughter on 'em. If they dare enforce the law, talk of standing armies, of slavery, of legionary tyrants ; call 'em forigners, vultur's thirsting for blood, butchers ; every man killed in a row, or a mob, call a victim, a murdered man. That's your sort, my darlin' ; go the whole hog, and do the thing genteel. Anything that gives foiver to the masses will please the masses. If there was nothin' to attack, there would be no champions. If there is no grievance, you must make one. Call all changes reform, whether it makes it better or not. Anything you want to alter call an abuse. All that oppose you call anti-reformers, upholders of abuses, bigots, sycophants, office-seeking Tories ; say they live by corruption, by oppressin' the people, and that's the reason they oppose all change. How streaked they'll look, won't they ? It will make them scratch their heads and stare, I know. If there's any man you don't like, use your privilege, and abuse him like old Scratch — lash him like a nigger ; cut him up beautiful. Oh, it's a grand privilege that 1 Do this, and you'll be the Speaker of the House, the first pot-hook on the crafne, the truckle-head and cap-sheave ; you will, I snore.' * Well, it does open a wide field, don't it,' said Mr. Buck, * for an ambitious man ? I vow I believe I'll take your advice. I like the idea amazin'ly. Lord 1 I wish I could talk like you, you do trip it off so glib. I'll take your advice, tho' ; I will, I vow.' * Well, then, Mr. Buck, if you will really take my advice, P II give it to you^ said I, *^ free-gratis ^ for nothiii. Be honesty be consistent^ be temperate; be rather the advocate of internal improvement than political change; of rational reform^ but not organic alterations. Neither flatter the mob^ nor flatter the Government. Support what is right; oppose what is wrong. What you think^ speak. Try to satisfy yourself and not others; and if you are not popular^ you will at least be respected. Popularity lasts but a day; respect will descend as a heritage to your children.^" CHAPTER IV NICK BRADSHAW '< ■» .' We left Grasperaux early in the momintr, intending to breakfast at Kentville. The air was cool and bracing. The sun, which had NICK BRADSHAW 147 / a; ■5^* fast at [h had just risen, shed a lustre over the scenery of this beautiful and fertile valley, which gave it a fresh and glowing appearance. " A splendid countxy this, Squire,' said the Clockmaker ; " that's a fact. The Lord never made the beat of it. I wouldn't ax no better location in the farmin' line than any of these allotments — grand grazin* grounds and superfine tillage lands. A man that know'd what he was about might live like a fightin' cock here ; and no great scratchin' for it, neither. D(> you see that 'are house on that risin' hummock to the right there ? Well, jist look at it. That's what I call about right. Flanked on both sides by an orchard of best grafted fruit ; a tidy little clever flower-garden in front, that the gals see to ; and a'most a grand sarce garden over the road there sheltered by them 'are willows. At the back-side, see them cverlastin' big barns ! And, by gosh ! there goes the dairy cows — a pretty sight too, that fourteen of them marchin' Indgian-file arter milkin', down to that 'are medder. Whenever you see a place all snugged up and lookin' like that 'are, depend on it the folks are of the right kind. Them flowers too, and that 'are honeysuckle and rose-bushes, show the family are brought up right ; sunthin' to do at home, instead of racin' about to quiltin' parties, huskin' frolicks, gossipin', talkin' scandal, and neglectin' their businesss. Them little matters are like throwin' up straws ; they show which way the wind is. When gals attend to them 'are things, it shows they are what our minister used to call 'right-minded. It keeps them busy — and when folks are busy, they han't time to get into mis- chief—and it amuses them too, and it keeps the dear little critters healthy and cheerful. I believe I'd alight and breakfast there, if you've no objection. I should like you to see that citizen's im- provements ; and he's a plaguy nice man too, and will be proud to see you, you may depend." We accordingly drove up to the door, where we were met by Squire James Horton, a respectable, intelligent, cheerful-looking man, apparently of about fifty years of age. He received me with all the ease and warmth of a man to whom hospitality was habitual and agreeable ; thanked Mr. Slick for bringing me to see him ; and observed that he was a plain farmer, and lived without any preten- sions to be other than he was, and that he always felt pleased and gratified to see any stranger who would do him the favour to call upon him, and would accommodate himself to the plain fare of a plain countryman. He said he lived out of the world, and the con- versation of strangers was often instructive, and always acceptable to him. He then conducted us into the house, and introduced us to his wife and daughters--two very handsome and extremely interesting girls, who had just returned from superintending the operations of the dairy. I was particularly struck with the extreme neatness and propriety of their attire, plain and suitable to their morning occupations, but scrupulously nice in its appearance. As the clock struck seven (a wooden clock, to which Mr. Slick il :f! )| .--' f .^- i> I4S tHE CLOCKMAKER looked with evident satisfaction as a proof of his previous acquaint- ance), the family were summoned, and Mr. Horton addressed a short but very appropriate prayer to the Throne of Grace, render- ing the tribute of a grateful heart for the numerous blessings with which he was surrounded, and supplicating a continuance of divine favour. There was something touching in the simplicity and fervour of his manner, and in the unpretending style of his devotion, while there was a total absence of that familiar tone of address so common in America, which, often bordering on profanity, shocks and dis- gusts those who have been accustomed to the more decorous and respectful language of our beautiful liturgy. Breakfast was soon announced, and we sat down to an excellent and substantial repast — everything abundant and good of its kind, and the whole prepared with a neatness that bespoke a well-regu- lated and orderly family. We were then conducted round the farm, and admired the method, regularity, and good order of the establishment. " I guess this might compare with any of your English farms," said the Clockmaker. " It looks pretty consider- able slick this, don't it ? " " We have great advantages in this country," said Mr. Horton. " Our soil is naturally good, and we have such an abundance of salt sludj,fe on the banks of the rivers that we are enabled to put our uplands in the highest state of culti- vation. Industry and economy can accomplish anything here. We have not only good markets, but we enjoy an almost total exemp- tion from taxation. We have a mild and paternal government ; our laws are well and impartially administered, and we enjoy as much personal freedom as is consistent with the peace and good order of society. God grant that it may long continue so, and that we may render ourselves worthy of these blessings by yielding the homage of grateful hearts to the great Author and Giver of all good things." A bell ringing at the house at this time reminded us that we were probably interfering with some of his arrangements, and we took leave of our kind host, and proceeded on our journey, strongly impressed with those feelings which a scene of domestic happiness and rural felicity like this never fails to inspire. We had not ridden more than two or three miles before Mr. Slick suddenly checked his horse, and pointing to a farm on the right-hand side of the road, said : " Now, there is a contrast for you, with a vengeance. That critter," said he, " when he built that wrack of a house — they call 'em a half-house here — intended to add as much more to it some of these days, and accordin'ly put his chimbley outside to sarve the new part as well as the old. He has been too lazy, you see, to remove the bankin' put there, the first fall, to keep the frost out o' the cellar ; and it has rotted the sills off, and the house has fell away from the chimbley, and he has had to prop it up with that great stick of timber to keep it from comin' down on its knees altogether. All the wmders arc boarded up but one, and that h.^s all the glass broke out. Look at thf*. 1 NICK BRADSHAW 149 iMr. the for that ladd his He the the has barn ! The roof has fell in in the middle, and the two gables stand starin' each other in the face, and as if they would like to come closer together if they could, and consult what was best to be done. Them old geese and vet'ran fowls, that are so poor the foxes won't steal 'em for fear o' hurtin' their t( eth ; that little yaller, lantern-jaw'd, long-legg'd, rabbit-eared runt of a pig, that's so weak it can't curl its tail up; that old frame of a cow, a-standin' there with his eyes shot to, a-contemplatin' of its latter eend ; and that varmnit-lookin' horse, with his hocks swelled bigger than his belly, that looks as if he had come to her funeral, is all his stock, I guess. The goney has showed his sense in one thing, however : he has burnt all his fence up ; for there is no danger of other folks' cattle breikin' into his field to starve, and gives his old Mooley a chance o' sneakin' into his neighbours* fields o' nights if she find an open gate, or a pair of bars down, to get a treat of clover now and then. Oh, dear ! if you was to get up airly of a mornin', afore the dew was off the ground, and mow that 'are field with a razor, and rake ^ it with a fine tooth-comb, you wouldn't get stuff enough to keep one grasshopper through the winter, if you was to be hanged for it. S'pose we drive up to the door to light a cigar? If Nick Bradshaw is to home, I should like to have a little chat with him. It's worth knowin' how he can farm with so little labour ; for any- thing that saves labour in this country, where help is so plaguy dear, is worth larnin', you may depend." Observing us pause and point towards his domain, Nicholas lifted of the door and laid it on its side, and emerging from his den of dirt and smoke, stood awhile reconnoitring us. He was a tall, well-built, athletic-looking man, possessed of great personal strength and surprising activity, but looked like a good-natured, careless fellow, who loved talkmg and smoking better than work, and preferred the pleasures of the tap-room to the labours of the field. " He thinks we want his vote," said the Clockmaker. " He's looking as big as all out-doors jist now, and is waitin' for us to come to him. He wouldn't condescend to call the king his cousin jist at this present time. It's Independent day with him, I calcu- late. Happy-lookin' critter, too, ain't he, with that 'are little, short black pipe in his mouth ? The fact is, Squire, the moment a man takes to a pipe, he becomes a philosopher. It's the poor man's friend ; it calms the mind, soothes the temper, and makes a man patient onder trouble. It b^s made more good men, good hus- bands, kind masters, induljfent fathers, and honest fellers than any other blessed thing in thil univarsal world. The Indgians always buried a pipe and a skin of tobacco vith their folks, in case smokin' should be the fashion in the next world, that they mightn't go on- provided. Jist look at him I His hat has got no crown in it, and the rim hangs loose 'a one side like the bale of a bucket ; his trousers anrl jacket are all flyin' in tatters of different-coloured patches. He has one old shoe on one foot, and an ontanned / ISO THE CLOCKMAKER moccasin on t'other. He ain't had his beard cut since last sheep- shearin', and he looks as shaggy as a yearlin' colt. And yet you see the critter has a rakish look, too. That 'are old hat is cocke'' on one side quite knowin'. He has both hands in his trousers pockets, as if he had somcthin' worth feelin' there ; while one eye shot to on account of the smoke, and the other standin' out of the way of it as far as it can, makes him look like a bit of a wag. A man that didn't smoke couldn't do that, now, Squire. You may talk about fortitude, and patience, and Christian resignation, and all that 'are sort of thing, till you're tired — I've seen it, and heerd tell of it too — but I never knew an instance yet where it didn't come a little grain heavy or sour out of the oven. Philosophy is like most other guests I've see'd ; it likes to visit them as keeps good tables, and though it has some poor acquaintances, it ain't more nor half- pleased to be seen walkin' lock-and-lock with 'em. But smokin' — Here he comes, tho', I swan. He knows Old Clay, I reckon. Ha sees it ain't the candidate chap." This discovery dispelled the important airs of Nicholas, and taking the pipe out of his mouth, he retreated a pace or two, and took a runnmg leap of ten or twelve feet across a stagnant pool of green water that graced his lawn, and served the double purpose of rearing goslings and breeding moschetoes, and by repeating these feats of agility on the grass several times (as if to keep himself in practice) was by the side of the waggon in a few minutes. " Mornin', Mr. Bradshaw ! " said the Clockmaker. " How's all at home to-day?" "Reasonable well, I give you thanks. Won't you alight?" "Thank you; I jist stop to hght a cigar." "I'll bring you a bit o' fire," said Nick, " in the twinklin' of an eye," and bounding off to the house with similar gigantic strides, he was out of siglit in a moment. " Happy, good-natured citizen that, you see, Squire," said Mr. Slick. " He ain't been fool enough to stiffen him- self by hard work, neither ; for you see he is as supple as an eel. The critter can jump like a catamount, and run like a deer ; he'd catch a fox a'most, that chap." Presently out bounded Nick in the san)e antelope style, waving over his head a lighted brand of three or four feet long. " Here it is," said he. " But you must be quick, for this soft green wood won't hold in fire no time ; it goes right out. It's like my old house there, and that's so rotten it won't hold a nail now-; after you drive one in, you can pull it out with your finf^^ers." " How are you off for tobacco ? " said Mr. Slick. " Grand," said he ; " got half a fig left yet. Get it for you in a minit ; and the old lady's pipe too," and without waitin' for a reply, was curvetting again off to the house. "That goney," said the Clockmaker, "is like a gun that goes off at half-cock ; there's no doin' nothin' with him. I didn't want his backey ; I only wanted an excuse to give him some. But it's a strange thing that, Squire, but it's as sure as rates, the poor are everywhere more liberal^ more obligin\ and Jnore hospitable^ NICK BRADSHAW 151 I ._•;. accordiri to their means, than the rich are. They beat them all holler ; it's a fact, I assure you." When he returned, Mr. Slick told him that he was so spry, he was out of hearing before he could stop him ; that he didn't require any himself, but was going to offer him a fig of first-chop, genu/w stuff he had. " Thank you," said he, as he took it, and put it to his nose. " It was the right flavour that ; rather weak for me, tho'. I am thinking it'll jist suit the old lady ; she smokes a good deal now for the cramp in her leg. She's troubled with the cramp sometimes, away down somewhere about the calf; and smokin', they say, is good for it." He then took the tobacco very scientifically between the fore- finger and thumb of his left hand, and cut it into small shreds thai fell into the palm ; then holding both knife and fig between his teeth, he rolled, untwisted, and pulverised the cut tobacco by rubbing and grinding it between his two hands, and refilled and lighted his pipe, and pronouncing the tobacco a prime article, looked the very picture of happiness. " How's crops in a gineral way this year?" said Mr. Slick. "Well, they are jist about meddlin'," said be. "The seasons han't been very good lately, and somehow the land don't bear as it used to when I was a boy. But I'm in great hopes times are goin' to be better now. They say things look brighter ; I feel a good deal encouraged myself. They tell me the Governor's a-goin' to appoint a new council ; I guess they'll do sunthin' for the country." " Ah," said the Clockmaker, "that, indeed ! That would be sunthin' like. It would make things quite brisk agin. Farmers could afford to live then. It would raise markets considerable." " So I see in the papers," said Nick. "The fact of the matter is, the Assemblymen must do sun- thin' for the country, or it will go to the dogs ; that's sartain. They tell me, too, that the Council doors are to be opened, so that we can hear the debates. That will be a great privilege, won't it?" " Very," said the Clockmaker. " It will help the farmer amazin'Iy that ; I should count that a great matter. They must be worth hearin', them counsellors. It's quite a treat to hear the members in the House, particularly when they talk about bankin', currency, constitution, bounties, and such tou>;h, knotty things ; they go so deep into these matters, and know so much about 'em, it's quite edifyin*. I've lamt more new things, and more things I niver knew afore, in half an hour in the Assembly, than ever I heerd afore in my life, and I expect the other House will be quite as wise.'" "Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," said Nicholas. "/ feel somehow quite encouraged myself. If we had a bounty of about a shilling a bushel for raisin' potatoes, two-and-sixpence a bushel for wheat, and fifteenpence for oats, I think a body might have a chance to make out to scratch along to live here ; and I'm told when the Council doors are opened, we shall actually get them. / must say I feel quite encouraged myself But stop," !ii ■m '«-w:^r^(s«3yiwi-,!' 152 THE CLOCKMAKER said he, laying his hand on Mr. Slick. " Do you see that 'are varmint a-lookin' arter the old lady's chickens over there by the barn ? I had a crack at him yesterday, but he was too far off. Wait a bit ! " and he scampered off to the house, brought out his gun (which had been previously loaded), and throwing himself on all fours, proceeded towards the barn as rapidly as a quadruped. " Stop, stop, daddy ! " said a little, half-naked imp of a boy. " Stop till I get my cock-shy 1 " " Well, bear a hand, then," said he, " or he'll be off. I won't wait a minit." The boy darted into the house, and returned in an instant with a short, round, hard-wood club in his hand, and throwing himself in the same posture, thrust his head under the skirts of his father's coat, and crawled after him, between his legs, the two appearing like one long, monstrous reptile. The hawk, observing this unusual motion, rose higher in the air, as he slowly sailed round the build- ing ; but Nicholas, not liking to be baulked of his shot, fired at a venture, and fortunately broke his winp^. " Stop, daddy I " said the boy, recovering his feet — " stop, daddy ! it's my turn now," and following the bird that fled with inconceivable rapidity like an ostrich, half-running, half-flying, threw his cock-shy at him with unerring aim, and killed him. " Ain't he a whopper, daddy ? " said he. " See 1 " and he stretched out his wings to their full extent ; " He's a sneezer, ain't he ? I'll show him to mammy, I guess," and off he ran to the house to exhibit his prize. " Make a smart man that," said Nick, regarding his boy, as he carried off the bird, with looks of entire satisfaction — ** make a considerable of a smart man that, if the Assemblymen would only give us a chance. But / feel quite encouraged now. I think we shall have a good brood of chickens this year, now that thievin' rascal has got his flint fixt ; and if them three regiments come to Halifax that's talked of this winter, poultry will fetch a'most a grand price, that's sartain. It appears to me there's a hawk, or a wild cat, or a fox, or a lawyer, or a constable, or a somethin' or another, for everlastin'ly a-botherin' of a poor man. But I feel quite encouraged uow." " I never see'd that critter yet," said the Clockmaker, " that he didn't say he felt * quite encouraged.' He's always lookin' for the Assembly to do great things for him, and every year feels ' quite encouraged ' that they will do sunthin' at the next session that will make his fortin. / wonder if folks will ever lam that politicks are the seed mentioned in Scriptur' that fell by the roadside^ ard the fowls came and picked them up. They don^t benefit the farmer^ but they feed them hungry birds, the party leaders. "The bane of this country, Squire — and, indeed, of all America — is havin' too much land. They run over more ground than they can cultivate, and crop the land so severely that they run it out. A very large portion of land in America has been run out by repeated grain crops ; and when you add to that land naterally too poor to ^ 154 THE CLOCKMAKER ready with his promisas, that warn't quite as ready to break them when it suited his purpose. And if Aylesford comes a-botherin' of you, call out little Nick with his 'cock-shy,' and let him take a shot at him. Any critter tliat finds out all the world are rogues, and tells of the great things he's a-goin' for to do, ginerally overlooks the biggest rogue of all, and that's himself. Oh ! Gasperaux for ever 1 He's the man for your money, and no mistake." *' Well," said Nicholas, " I believe you're half right. Aylesford did promise a shillin' a bushel bounty on potatoes, tho* ; but I believe he lied, after all. I'll take your advice. 1 feel quite encouraged now. If you'd like a coal to light your cigar by," said he, " I'll step in here and get you one." "Thank you," said Mr. Slick; "I have no occasion for one jist now." " Well, I believe I'll drop in and light a pipe there myself, then, anyhow. Good-bye 1 / feel guiU encouraged now." " Oh, dear 1 " said the Clockmaker. " What a good-natered, good-for-nothin', simple toad that is ! I suppose when the sheriflf takes the vote of such critters, he flatters himself he takes the sense of the county. What a difference atween him and Horton I The one is a lazy, idle critter, wanderin' about talkin' politics, or snarin' rabbits, catchin' eels, or shootin' hawks, and neglectin' his work— and a pretty kettle of fish he's made of it ; the other, a careful, steady-goin', industrious man, that leaves politics to them as like dabblin' in troubled waters, and attends steadily to his business, and he's a credit to his country. " Yes ; too much land is the ruin of us all this side o* the water. Afore I went to England I used to think that the onequal divisions of property there, and the system of landlord and tenant, was a cuss to the country ; and that there was more dignity and freedom to the individual, and mote benefit to the nation, for every man to own the land he cultivated, as with us. iUit I've changed my mind ; I see it's the cause of the high state of cultivation in Eng- land, and the prosperity of its agricultur'. If the great men had the land in their own hands there, every now and then an improvi- dent one would skin the soil, and run it out ; bein' let to others, he can't do it himself, and he takes plaguy good care by his lease his tenant shan't do it neither. Well, then, there he is, with his capital to make great improvements, substantial repairs, and so on ; and things are pushed up to perfection. " In Nova Scotia there are hundreds and thousands that would be better off as tenants, if they would but only think so. When a chap spends all his money in buying lands, and mortgages them to pay the rest of the price, he ain't able to stock his farm, and work it properly ; and he labours like a nigger all his life, and dies poor at last, while the land gets run out in his hands, and is no good for ever after. Now, if he was to hire the farm, the money that he paid for the purchase would stock it complete ; enable him to hire labour ; to wait for markets ; to buy up cattle cheap, and to -iv-- TRAVELUNG IN AMERICA 155 sell them to advantaj^^e. He'd make money hand over hand, while he'd throw the cost of all repairs and improvements on the owner. But you might talk till you were grey-headcci. and you wouldn't persuade folks at that in this country. The glorious privilege of having a vote, to give to some j/oney of a member, carries the day. Well may they call it a dear privilege that, for it keeps them poor to their dyin* dtiy. No, Squire ; your system of landlord and tenant is the best for the farmer, and the best for the nation. There never can be a high state of general cultivation without it. Agricultur' wants the labour of the farmer and the money of the capitalist ; boih must go hand in hnnd. When it is left to the farmer alone, it must dwindle for want of means, and the country must dwindle too. A nation, even if it is as big as our great one, if it has no general system of landlord and tenant adopted in it, must run out. We are ondergoin' that process now. I'm most f)laguy afeerd we shall run out ; that's a fact. A country is but a arge estate at best ; and if it's badly tilled and hard cropped, it must, in the eend, present the melancholy spectacle of a great exhausted farm. That's gui'/e encouragin^ now, as Nick Bradshaw says, ain't it?" 1 CHAPTER V TRAVELLING IN AMERICA EG d a **DlD you ever drink any Thames water, Squire?" said the Clockmaker ; " because it is one of the greatest naieral curiosities in the world. When I returned from Poland in the hair spekela- tion, I sailed from London, and we had Thames water on board. Says I to the captain, says I, * I guess you want to pyson us, don't you, with that 'arc nasty, dirty, horrid stuff? How can you think o* takln' such water as that ? ' ' Why,' says he, ' Mr. Slick, * it does make the best water in the warld ; that's a fact. Yes ; and the best porter too. It farments, works off the scum, clarifies itself, and beats all natur* ; and yet, look at all them 'are sewers and drains, and dye-stuffs, and factory-wash, and onmentionables that are poured into it ! It beats the bugs, don't it?' Well, Squire, our great country is like that 'are Thames water ; it does receive the outpourin's of the world : homicides and regicides, jail-birds and galley-birds, pocrhouse chaps and workhouse chaps, rebels, infidels, and forgers — rogues of all sorts, sizes, and degrees. But it farments, you see ; and works clear. And what a'niost a beauti- ful clear stream o' democracy it does make, don't it ? Not hot enough for fog, nor cold enough for ice, nor limey enough to fur up the byleis, nor tro haid lo wash clean, nor raw enough to chop the skin; but jist the thng; that's a fact. I wibh lo gracious 156 THE CLOCKMAKER you'd come and see for yourself. I'd go with you, and cost yoo nothin'. I'd take a prospectus of a new work, and j^et subscribers ; take a pattern-book of tlie Lowell f ictories for orders, and spekilate a little by the way, so as to clear my shot wherever we went. " You must see for yourself ; you can't lam nothin' from books. I've read all the travels in America, and there ain't one that's worth a cent. They don't understand us. They remind me of a lawyer examinin' of a witness — he don't want either the truth, the whole truth, or noihin' but the truth ; but he wants to pick out of him i'ist so much as will prove his case, d'ye see, and would like him to ceep dark about the rest ; puts artful questions to him on purpose to ^^et an answer to suit him ; stops him when he talks too fast ; leads him when he goes too slow ; praises his own witnesses sky- high, and abuses the other side for lyin', equivocatin', parjured villains. That's jist the case with English travellers ; instead of lookin' all round, and seein' into things first, and then comin' to an opinion, they make up tlieir minds afore they com^, and then look for facts to support their views. First comes a great, high Tory, and a republic smells so bad in his nostrils he's got his nuse curl'd up like a pug-nose dog ail thro' his journey. He sees no Estab- lisiied Church, and he swears there's no religion ; and he sees no livery-helps, and he says it's all vulgar ; and if he sees a citizen spit, he jumps a-one side as scared as if it were a rifle a-goin' off. Then comes a Radical (and them English Radicals are cantan- kerous-lookin' critters ; that's a fact), as sour as vinei'.ar, and lookin' as cross and as hungry as a bear jist starved out in the spring, and they say we have the slavery of opinion here ; that our preachers want moral courage, and that our great cities are cursed with the aristocracy of wealth. There is no pleasin' either on 'em. Then comes what minister used to call the Optimists, a set of folks who talk you beef about the perfectibility of human natur* ; that men, like caterpillars, will all turn into beautiful critters with wings like butterflies — a sort of grub angels ; that our great nation is a paradise, and our folks jist a-gettin' out o' the chrysalis state into somethin' divine. " I seldom or never talk to none o' them, unless it be to bam 'em. They think they know everything, and all they got to do is to up Hudson like a shot, into the lakes full-split, off to Mississippi and down to New Orleans full-chisel, back to New York, and up killock and home in a liner, and write a book. They have a whole stock of notes. Spittin' — gougin' — lynchin' — burnin' alive — steamboats blowed up — snags — slavery — stealin' — Texas — State prisons — men talk slow — women talk loud — both walk fast — chat in steamboats and stage-coaches — anecdotes — and so on. Then out comes a book. If it's a Tory writes it, then the Tory papers says it's the best pictur* they have seen — lively, interestin', intelligent. If a Radical, then Radical papers say it's a very philosophical work (whenever a fellow gets over his head in it, and cruel unintelligible, TRAVELLING IN AMERICA 157 he's deep in philosophy, thcit chap), statesman-like view, able work ; throws K'Tcat light on the politics of tlie day. 1 wouldn't ^ive a chaw of tobackey for the books of all of 'em tied up and put mlo a meal -bag together. "Our folks sarve *em as the Indiijians used to sarve the gulls down to Squantum in old pilgrim times. The cunnin' critters used to make a sort o' fish flakes, and catch herrin' and tom-cods. and su( h sort o' fish, and put 'em on the fl.ikes, and then crawl ondrr them- selves ; and as soon as the gulls lighted to eat the fish, catr h hold o' their legs, and pull 'em thro'. Arter that, whenever a feller was made a fool on, and took in, they used to say he was gulled. Well, if our folks don't gull them British travellers, it's a pity. They do make proper fools on 'em ; that's a fact. " Year afore last I met an English gal a-travellin' in a steam- boat. She had a French name that I can't recollect, tho' I got it on the tip o' my tongue too. You know who I mean. She wrote books on economy — not domestic economy, as gals ought ; but on political economy, as gals oughtn't, for they don't know nothin' about it. She had a trumpet in her hand. Thinks I, 'Who on airth is she a-goin' to hail, or is she a-goin' to try ec hoes on the river?' I watched her some time, and I found it was an ear-trumpet. " 'Well, well,' says I, 'that's onlike most English travellers, any- way ; for in a gineral way they wear magnify in' glasses, and do enlarge things so, a body don't know 'em agm when he sees 'em. Now, this gal won't hear one-half that's said, and will get that half wrong,' and so it turned out. Says she to me, 'Beautiful country this, Mr. Slick,' says she. 'I'm transported.' 'Trans- ported ! ' said I. * Why, what oncler the sun did you do at home to get transported?' But she larfed right out like anything. 'Delighted, I mean,' said she; 'it's so beautiful.' 'It is splendid,' said I, ' no doubt ; there ain't the brat of it to be found anywhere.' ' Oh ! ' said she ; 'what views ! what scenery 1 what woods ! what a river ! How I should like to soar away up with that 'are eagle into the blue sky, and see all its beauties spread out afore me like a map ! How grand ! Everything is on a grand scale.' ' Have you seen the Kentuckians ?' said I. ' Not yet,' said she. 'Stop, then,' said I, 'till you see ^Aem. Thev are on a scale that will please you, I guess. Whoppin;^ big fellows them, I tell you ; half horse, half alligator, with a touch of the airthquake.' 'I wasn't a-talkin' of the men,' said she; "tis the beauties of Natur' I was admirin'.' 'Well,' said I, 'once on a time I used to admire the beauties of natur' too, but I got cured o' that.' 'Sit down on this bench,' said she, 'and tell me how it was. These kind o' anecdotes sarve to illustrate the " moral of feelin'." ' Thinks I, 'This is philosophy now, "moral of feelin' !" Well, if the moschetoes don't illustrate your moral of feelin' for you some of these nights, I'm mistaken. Very immoral fellers, those 'skeeters.' I'j 'A 'ijj . ii 3 ty^r el. 158 THE CLOCKMAKER " 'Well,' said I, 'my first tour in the dock trade was up Canada way, and I was the first ever went up Huron with clocks. When I reached our fort at Gratiot, who did ! find there as commander of the party but the son of an old American hero, a sargeant at Bunker's Hill. Well, bein' the son of an old veteran hero myself, it made quite a fellowship atween us like. He bought a clock o' me, and invited me to stay with him till a vessel arrived for Michigan. Well, in the afternoon we went for to take tea with a jintleman that had settled near the fort, and things were sot out in an arbour, surrounded with honeysuckle, and Isabella grape, and what not. There was a view of the fort from it ; and that elegant lake and endless forest. It was lovely ; that's a fact. And the biids flocked round the place, lif hted on it, and sung so sweet, I thought it was the most romantic fhing I ever see'd since I was a created sinner. So said I to his wife (a German lady from one of the emigrant ships), " I prefer," said I, " your band of birds to the Bowery band of New York, by a long chalk. It's Natur's music. It's most delightful I it's splendid ! " "Furder off," said she, "I like 'em more better hash nearer ; for the nasty, dirty tivils, they dirt in the tay and de shuker. Look there ! " said she ; " that's de tird cup now spilte." Lord 1 it make me sick. I never had any romance in me arter that.' " Here the English gal turned round and looked at me for a space quite hard. Said she, 'You are a humorous people, Mr. Slick. You resemble the Irish very much ; you remind me greatly of that lively, light-hearted, agreeable people.' ' Thank you,' said I, ' marm, for that compliment. We are ginerally thought to resemble each other very much, both in looks and dress ; there's often great mistakes made when they first land, from the likeness.* " Arter a considerable of a pause, she said, ' This must be a religious country,' said she, 'ain't it? for religion is "the highest fact in man's right, and the root of all democracy."' ' If religion is the root of democracy,' said I, 'it bears some strange fruit some- times, as the man said of the pine-tree the five gamblers were lynched upon to Vixburg.' ' I'm glad to see,* said she, * you have no establishment. It's an incubus — a dead weight — a nightmare.' ' I ain't able,' said I ; ' I can't afford it, nohow. And besides,' said I, ' I can't get no one to have me. Them that I would have won't have me, and them that would have me the devil wouldn't have ; so I don't see as I'm like to be troubled with a nightmare for one while,' ' I don't mean that,' said she, laughin' ; ' I mean an Established Church.' ' Oh ! an Established Church,' said I ; 'now I understand. But when I hear ladies talk of establish- ments, I always think they hrve matrimony in their heads.' The truth is, Squire, I don't like to hear English people come out here and abuse their church. They've got a church, and throve under it, and a national character under it for honour and upright dealin' LMCh as no other people in Europe have. Indeed, I could tell you TRAVELLING IN AMERICA 159 -c> > ire an I; Ih- of some folks who have to call their goods English to get thv-m off in a foreign land at all. The name sells ^em. You may boast of this tree or that tree, and call 'em this dictionary name and that new-fangled name, but give me the tree that bears the best fruity I say. " A church must be paid, and the mode don't much signify ; at any rate, it ain't for them to abuse it, tho' other folks may choose to copy it, or let it alone, as it convenes them. 'Your people,* said she, ^ are in advance of the clergy ; your ministers are half- men, half-women, with u touch of the noodle. You'd be better without 'em. Their parochial visits do more harm than good.' * In that last remark,' said I, ' I concur ; tor if there's a gal in their vicinity with a good fortin, they'll snap her up at once ; a feller has no chance with 'em. One on them did brother Eldad out of one hundred thousand dollars that way.' * I don't speak o' that,' said she, rather short like ; ' but they haven't moral courage. They are not bold shepherds, but timid sheep. They don't preach abolition ; they don't meddle with public rights.' ' As to that,' said I, 'they don^t think it right to hasten on the crisis, to preach up a servile war, to encourage the blacks to cut their masters' throats ; they think it a dangerous subject, anyway. And besides,' said I, * they have scruples o' conscience if they ought *o stir in it at all. These matters are State rights — or State wf. ugs, if you please — .\nd our Northern States have no more right to interfere in 'em than they have to interfere in the affairs of any other inde- pendent sovereign State in Europe. So I don't blame ministers much for that, arter all ; so come now. In England,' says I, ' you maintain that they ought not to meddle with public rights, and call 'em political priests, and all that sort o' thing ; and here you abuse 'em for not meddlin' with 'em, call 'em cowards, dunV dogs, slaves to public opinion, and what not. There's no pleasin' some folks. "'As to religion,' says I, *bein' "the root of democracy," it's the root of monarchy too, and all governments, or ought to be ; and there ain't that wide difference, arter all, atween the two countries some folks think on. Government here, both in theory and practice, resides with the people ; and religion is under the care of the raal government. With you, government is in the execu- tive, and religion is in the hands of the Government there. Church and State are to a sartain extent connected therefore in both. The difference with us is, we don't prefer one, and estab- lish it, and don't render its support compulsory. Better, perhaps, if we did ; for it burns pretty near out sometimes here, and has to be brought to by revivals and camp-meetin's, and ah sorts of ex- citements ; and when it does come to, it don't giv e a steady, clear light for some time, but spits, and sputters, and cracks like a candle that's got a drop o' water on fh.^ wick. It don't seem kinder rational, neither, that screamin' and screetchin', and M'i. 'm 4 \,:k'^ t.f i6o THE CLOCKMAKER hoopin' and hollerm^, like possest, and tumblin* into faintin's, and fits, and swoons, and what not. " ' / dorit like preachiti to the narves instead of the judgment. I recollect a lady once, tho', convarted by preachin' to her narves, that was an altered woman all the rest o' her days.' * How was that ?' said she. These stories illustrate the "science of religion." I like to hear them.* ' There was a lady,' said I (and I thought I'd g^ive her a story for her book), * that tried to rule her husband a little tighter than was agreeable — meddlin' with things she didn't onderstand, and dictatin' in matters of politics and religion, and everything a'most. So one day her husband had got up consider- able airly in the mornin', and went out and got a tailor, and brought him into his wife's bedroom afore she was out o' bed. " Measure that woman," said he, " for a pair of breeches ; she's detarmined to wear 'em, and I'm resolved folks shall know it," and he shook the cow-skin over the tailor's head to show him he intended to be obeyed. It cured her. She begged and prayed, and cried, and promised obedience to her husband. He spared her ; but it effectuated a cure. Now, that's what I call preachin^ to the narves. Lord 1 how she would have kicked and squeeled if the tailor had a — ' *A very good story,' said she, a-bowin' and a-movin' a little, so as not to hear about the measurin' — * a very good story indeed.' " ' If you was to revarse that maxim o' your'n,' said I, ' and say democracy is too often found at the root of religion, you'd be nearer the mark, I reckon. I knew a case once exactly in point.' * Do tell it to me,' said she, 'It will illustrate "the spirit of re- ligion."' 'Yes,' said I, 'and illustrate your book too, if you are a-writin' one, as most English travellers do. C'ur congregation,' said I, * to Slickville contained most of the wealthy and respect- able folks there, and a most powerful and united body it was. Well, there came a split once on the election of an elder, and a body of the upper-crust folks separated and went off in a huff. Like most folks that separate in temper, they laid it all to con- science ; found out all at once they had been adrift afore all their lives, and joined another church as different from our'n in creed as chalk is from cheese ; and to show their humility, hooked on to the poorest congregation in the place. Well, the minister was quite lifted up in the stirrups when he saw these folks jine him ; and to show his zeal for them the next Sunday, he looked up at the gallery to the niggers, and said he, " My brethren," said he, " I beg you won't spit down any more on the aisle seats, for there be gentlemen there now. Jist turn your heads, my sable friends, and let go over your shoulders. Manners, my brothers — manners before backey." Well, the niggers seceded. They said it was an infringement on their rights — on their privilege of spittin', as tree- men, where they liked, how they liked, and when they liked — and they quit in a body. " Democracy," said they, "is tl\e root of religion.'" TRAVELLING IN AMERICA l6l " * Is that a fact ? ' said she. * No mistake,' said I ; ' I see'd it myself. I know 'em all.' 'Well, it's a curious fact,' said she, 'and very illustrati'. e. It illustrates the universality of spittin' and the universality of democracy ; it's characteristic. I have no fear of a people V here the right of spittin' is held sacred from the intermin- able assaults of priestcraft.' She laid down her trumpet, and took out her pocket book, and began to write it down. She swallered it all. I have seen her book since ; it's jist what I expected from her. The chapter on religion strikes at the root of all religion ; and the effect of such doctrines is exhibited in the gross slander she has written agin' her own sex in the States, from whom she received nothin' but kindness and hospitality. I don't call that pretty at all ; it's enough to drive hospitality out of the land." " I know what you allude to," said I, "and fully concur with you in opinion that it is a gross, abominable slander, adopted on in- sufficient authority, and the more abominable in coming from a woman. Our Church may be aristocratic ; but if it is, it teaches good manners, and a regard for the decencies of life. Had she listened more to the rej^^ular clergy, and less to the modern illuminati, she might have learned a little of that charity which induces us to think well of others, and to speak ill of none. It certainly was a great outrage, and I am sorry that outrage was perpetrated by an Englishwoman." " I am proper glad you agree with me. Squire," said he ; " but come and see for yourself, and I will explain matters to you ; for without someone to let you into things, you won't understand us. I'll take great pleasure in bein' your guide, for I must say I like your conversation." How singular this is ! to the natural reserve of my country I add an uncommon taciturnity ; but this peculiar adaptation to listening has everywhere established for me that rare, but most desirable, reputation of being a good companion. It is evident, therefore, that listeners are everywhere more scarce than talkers, and are valued accordingly. Indeed, without them what would become of the talkers ? " Yes, I like your conversation," said the Clockmaker (who, the reader must have observed, has had all the talk to himself). " We are like the Chinese ; they have two languages— the written language and the spoken language. Strangers only get as far as the spoken one, but all secret affairs of religion and government are sealed up in the written one ; they can't make nothin' of it. That's jist the case with us. We have two languages — one for strangers, and one for ourselves ; a stranger must know this, or he's all adrift. We've got our own difficulties, our own doubts, our own troubles, as well as other folks— it would be strange if we hadn't— but we v on't choose to blart 'em all out to the world. " Look at our President's Message last year ! He said we was the most prosperous nation on the face of the airth ; peace and plenty spreadin' over the land, and more wealth than we Imow'd /* r m ! It f '■' 1 62 THE CLOCKMAKER •*■-. how to spend. At that very time we was on the point of national bankruptcy. He said the great fire at New York didn't cause our failure. Good reason why — the goods were all owned at London and Lyons, and the failures took place there, and not here. Our President said on that occasion : 'Our maxim is, "Do no wrong, and suffer no insult." ' Well, at that very time our Gineral was marchin' into the Mexican territory, and our people off south boarded Texas, and took it ; and our folks down north-east were ready to do the same neighbourly act to Canada, only waitin' for Papineau to say * All ready 1 ' He boasted we had no national debt, but a large surplus revenue in the public chist ; and yet, add up the public debt of ea'^h separate State, and see what a whappin' large one that makes. We don't entertain strangers, as the English do, with the troubles of our household, and the bother our sarvants give us ; we think it ain't hospitable, nor polished, nor even good manners. We keep that for the written language among ourselves. If you don't believe my word, go and ask the Britisher that was at Mr. Madison's court when the last war broke out ; he was the only man to Washington that knowed nothin' about it ; he didn't under- stand the language. ' I guess you may go and pack up your duds, and go home,' said Mr. Madison to him one day, when he called there to the l^vee. * Go home ! ' said he, and he wrinkled up his forehead, and drew up his eyelids, as much as to say, ' I estimate you are mad, ain't you ? ' 'Go home ! ' said he. ' What for ? ' ' Why,' said he, ' I reckon we are at war.' ' At war 1 ' said the Englishman. * Why, you don't say so ? There can't be a word of truth in the report. My dispatches say nothin' of it.' 'Perhaps not,' said the President, quite cool (only a slight twitch of his mouth showed how he would like to haw, haw, haw right out, only it warn't decent) — ' perhaps not ; but I presume I declared war vesterday, when you was engaged a-playin' of a game at chess with Kirs. Mac'ison.' Folks said they raally pitied him, he ooked so taken aback, so streaked, so completely dumbfounded. No ; when I say you can't make us out, you always laugh ; but it's true, you can't, without an interpreter. We speak the English language and the American language; you musl lam the American language if you want to understand the American peopled CHAPTER VI f\ ELECTIVE COUNCILS "What would be the effect, Mr. S?ick," said I, "of elective councils in this country, if Government would consent to make the experiment ? " " Why, that's a thing," said he, " you can't do in your form o' government, tryin* an experiment, tho' we ELECTIVE COUNCILS 163 can. You can't give the word of command, if it turns out a bunglin' piece of business, that they use in militia training, 'As you were !' It's dififerent with us. We can — our government is a democracy — all power is in the people at large ; we can go on, and change from one thing to another, and try any experiment we choose, as often as we like, for all changes have the like result^ of leaving the power in the same place and in the same hands. But you T»ust know beforehand how it will work in your mixed govern- ment, and shouldn't make no change you ain't sure abcut." " What good would an elective council be ? It is thought it would give the upper branches," said I, " more community of feeling, more sympathy, and more weight with the country at large ; that being selected by th':' people, the people would have more confidence in them; and that more efficient and more suital'*; men would be chosen by the freeholders than by the Crown." " ''^ou would jist get the identical same sort o' critters," said he, " \u the eend, as the members of Assembly, if they were elected, and no better ; they would be selected by the same judges of horse-flesh as t'other, and chose out o' the same flock. It would be the same breed o' Cc de at last." "But," said I, "you forget that it is proposed to raise the qualifications of the voters from forty shillings to forty pounds per year ; whereby you would have a better class of electors, 'ind ensure a better selection." " Jist you try it," said he, "and there never would be an eend to the popular motions in the House of Assembly to extend the suff'rages — for every thing that gives power to numbers will carry numbers^ and be popular ; and every feller who lived on excitement would be for everlastin'ly a-agitatin' of it, candidate, slangwhanger, and member. You'd have no peace ; you'd be for ever on the move, as our citizens are to New York, and they move into a new house every first o' May-day. If there be any good in that 'are council at all, it is in their bein' placed above popular excitement, and subject to no influence but that of reason, and the fitness of things ; chaps that have a considerable stake in the country, and don't Xuy their seats by pledges and pro- mises—pledges that half the time ruin the country if they are kept, and always ruin the man that breaks 'em. It's better as it is in the hands of the Government. It's a safety-valve now, to let off the fume, the steam, and vapour generated by the heat of the lower house. If you make that branch elective^ you put govermnent right into the gap ; and all difference of opinion^ instead of beiri between the two branches as it is now — that is, in fact, between the people themselves — luould then occur in all cases between the people and the governor. Afore long, that would either seal up the voice of the executive, so that they darn't call their souls their own, or make 'em onpopular ; and whenever the executive once fairly gets into that 'are pickle, there's an eend of the colony, and a Declara- tion of independence wouid soon foUer. Papinor knows that, and that's ?,he reason he's so hot for it ; he knows what it would lead to im m f-. I ■ , i > \;.m i64 THE CLOCKMAKER in the eend. The critter may want ginger, for ought I know ; but he don't want for gumption, you may depend. Elective councils are inconsistent with colonial dependence. It's takin' away the crane that holds up the pot from the fire, to keep it from boilin' over, and clappin' it right on the hot coals. What a gallopin' boil it would soon come into, wouldn't it ? In all mixed governments like your'n, the true rule is never to interfere with pop'lar rights established. Amend what is wrong, concede what is right, and do what is just always ; but presarve the balance of the ccnstitution for your life. One pound weight only taken off the executive, and put on t'other eend, is like a shift of the weight on a well-balanced plank till it won't play true no more, but keeps a-slidin' and a-slidin' down by leetle and leetle to the heaviest eend, till it all stays down to one side, and won't work no longer. It's a system of checks now ; but when all the checks run together, and make only one weight, they'll do as our Senate did once — for that ain't no check no more — it actilly passed that cussed embargo law of Jefferson's that ruined our trade, rotted our shippin', and bankrupted the whole nation, arter it come up from the House of Representatives thro' all its three readin's in four hours ; I hope I may be skinned if it didn't. It did, I snore. That's the beauty of havin' two bodies to look at things thro' only one spy-glass, and blow bubbles thro' one pipe. There's no appeal, no redress, in that case ; and what's more, when one party gives riders to both horses, they ride over you like wink, and tread you right onder foot, as arbitrary as old Scratch himself. There's no tyranny on airth equal to the tyranny of a majority; you can't form no notion of it unless you see'd it. Jist see how they sarved them chaps to Baltimore last war — General Lingan and thirty other fellers that had the impedence to say they didn't approve of the doin's of the Administration ; they jist lynched 'em, and stoned 'em to death like dogs. " We find among us the greatest democrats are the greatest tyrants. No, Squire ; repair, amend, enlarge, ventilate, modernise a little, too, if you iikfe, your structur* ; put new roof, new porch, winder?, and doors ; fresh paint and shingle it ; make it more attractive and pleasanter to mhabit, and, of course, it will be more valuable ; but do you leave the foundation alone — don't you meddle with the frame, the braces, the girts, for your life ; or it will spread, bilge out, leak like the divil, and c me to pieces some o' these stormy nights about your ears, as sure as you are bom. Make no organic changes. There are quacks in politics, Squire, as well as in med'cine — critters who have univarsal pills to cure all sorts o' diseases — and man/s the constitution, human and politic, they've fixt atween them. There's no knowin' the gripes, and pains, and cholicks they've caused. And the worst of it is, the poor devils that get in their hands, when they are on the broad themselves, but ti help up eyes, and say, * Oh, dear I I'm very bad. How will it go ?' * Go 1' r ■,»*>* ELECTIVE COUNCILS 165 to ind )es, is, )ad leir lot' says they ; 'why, like a house a-fire— full split —goin* on grandly — couldn't do no better — jist what was expected. You'll have a new constitution, stronj; as a lion. Oh! goin' on grandly.* *Well, I don't know,' says the misfortunate critter ; ' but I teels a plaguy sight more like goin' <7^than goin' or^ I \.t\\you! Then comes a-pickin' o' the bed-clothes, a clammy sweat, cold feet, the hiccup, rattles, and death. * Sarves him right,' says quack ; ' the cussed fool has had doctors too long about him in former days, and they sapped his constitution, and fixt his flint for him. Why didn't he call me in sooner ? The conceited ass thought he know'd everything, and didn't foller out all my prescriptions. One comfort, the' ; his estate shall pay for it, I vow.' Yes, Squire ; and that is the pity, win or lose, live or die, the estate does pay for it ; that's a fact. And what's worser, too, many on 'em care more about dividin' the spile than effectin' the cure, by a long chalk. " There's always some jugglery or quackery a-goin' on every- where a'most. It puts me in mind of the Wiimot Springs. One of the greatest flams I ever heerd tell of in this Province was brought out hereabouts in Wiimot, and succeeded for a space beyond all calculation. Our sea-sarpant was no touch to it — and that was a grand steamboat spekilation too, for a 'nation sight of folks went from Boston down to Providence and back agin, on purpose to see the sarpant in the boat that first spoke it out to sea. Bui then they were all pleasurin' parties, young folks takin' a trip by water, instead of a quiltin' frolic to shore. It gave the gals something to talk about and to do, to strain their little eyes through the captain's great big spy-glass to see their natural enemy, the sarpant ; and you may depend they had all the cur'osity of old Marm Eve too. It was all young hearts and young eyes ; and pretty ones they were, I tell you. But this here Wiimot wonder was a sort of funeral aflfair— an old and ugly assortment, a kind of Irish wake, part dead and part alive, where one-half groaned with sorrow and pain, and t'other half groaned to keep 'cm company — a raal, right-down, '^^nwine hysteric frolic, near about as much cryin' as laughin' ; it beat all natur*. I believe they actilly did good in sartain cases — in proper doses with proper diet— and at some future day, in more knowin' hands, they will come into vogue agin, and make a good spekilation ; but I have always obsarved, when an article is once run down, and folks find out that it has got more puffin' than it desarves, they don't give it no credit at all, and it is a long time afore it comes round agin. The Wiimot Springs are sitiated on the right there, away up onder that mourjtain ahead on us. They sartainly did make a wonderful great noise three years ago. II the pool of Saloorn had 'a been there, it couldn't 'a had a greater crowd o' clowns about it. The lame and maimed, the consump- tive and dropsical, the cancerous and leprous, the old drunkard and the young rake, the barren wife and the sick maid, the larfin' m i66 THE CLOCHMAKER If! Catholic and sour sectary — h\g,h and low, rich and poor, black and white, fools of all ages, sizes, and de;^'rees, were assembled there a-drinkin', bathin', and a-washin' in the waters, and carryin' off the mud for poultices and plaisters. It killed some, and cured some, and fool'd a 'nation sight of folks. Down to the mouth of the spring, where it discharges into a stream, tbc;c is a soft bottom, and there you'd see a feller standin' with one leg stuck in the mud ; another lyin' on a plank, with an arm shoved into the ooze up to the shoulder ; a third .t-sittin' down, with a mask o' mould like a gypsum cast on his head ; others with naked feet spotted all over with the clay to cure corns ; and these grouped agin Agre with an unfortunate feller with a stiff arm, who could only thrust in his elbow ; and //lere with another sittin' on a chair, a-danjilin' his feet in the mire to cure the rheumatis ; while a third, sunk up to his ribs, had a man a-pourin' water on his head for an eruption, as a gard'ner waters a transplanted cabbage-plant — all declarin' they felt better, and wondcrin' it hadn't been found out afore. It was horrid, I tell you, to see folks niakin' such fools of themselves. " If that 'are spring had belonged to an American citizen, that had made such an everlastin' touss about it, folks would have said they calkelated it was a Yankee trick. As it was, they sot each other on, and every critter that came home from it sent a half-a- dozen neighbours off; so none on 'em could larf at eech other. The road was actilly covered with people. I saw one old goney, seventy years of age, stuck in a gig atween two mattresses, like a carcase of mutton atween two bales of wool in a countryman's cart The old fool was a-goin' for to be made young, and to be married when he returned home. Folks believed everything they heerd ol it. They actilly swallered a story that a British officer that had a cork leg bathed there, and the flesh f^row'd on it, so that no soul could tell the difference atween it and the natural one. They believed the age of miracles had come ; so a feller took a dead pig and throw'd it in, saying who know'd, as it cured the half dead, that it wouldn't go the whole hog. That joke fixt the Wilmot Springs. It turned the Ir.rf aji^ainst 'em ; and it was lucky they did, for they were fmdin' sp'-ings Jist like 'em everywhere. Every pool the pigs had ryled was trusted, and if it was too bad for the stomach, it was pronounced medi( iutil. The nearest doctor wrote an account of it for the newspapers, and said it had sulphur and saltpetre in it, and that the mud when dried would make good powder — quite good enough to blow gypsum and shoot us Yankees. At last they exploded spontaneous ; the sulphur, saltpetre, and burnt brans went off of themselves, and nothin'has ever been since heerd of the Wilmot Springs. " lib prrtty much the case in politics. Folks have always some bubble or another— some electi^-e riv.,r>i.ii — private b.dlot — short parliaments — or some pill or another to cure all political evils in natur* : with quacks enough to cry 'em up. and interested quacks i ELECTIVE COUNCILS 167 also, who make their ned out of 'em, afore people get tired of them, and their pills too. There was a time when there was too many public officers in your council here ; but they've died off, or moved off, and too many of 'em lived to Halifax, and too few of 'em in the country, and folks thought a new deal would give 'em more fair play. Well, they've got a new deal now, and new cards. So far so good. A change of men is no great matter ; natur' is a-changin' of 'em all the time, if Government don't. But the con- stitution is another thing. You can't take out the vitals and put in new ones, as you can in a watch-case, with any great chance of success, as ever I heerd tell of. I've seen some most beautiful operations performed, too, by brother Eldad, where the patients lived thro' 'em, and he got a plaguy sight of credit for 'em ; but they all died a few days arterwards. ' Why, 'Dad,' says I, ' what in natur* is the good o' them 'are operations, and puttin' the poor critters to all that pain and misery, and their estate to so much expense, if it don't do 'em no good ? For it seems to me they all do go for it ; that's sarlain.' " ' Well, it was a dreadful pretty operation, tho', Sam, warn^ It ? ' he'd say. ' But the critter was desperate sick and peeower* fully weak ; I raally was e'en a'most afeerd I shouldn't carry him thro' it.' * But what's the use on it at last, when it kills 'em ?' said I ; 'for you see they do slip thro' your fingers in the eend.' ' A feller,' says he, ' Sam, that's considerable slippery all his life may be a little slippery towards the eend on't ; and there's no help for it, as I see. But, Sam,' said he, with a jupe o' the head, and a wink quite knowin', ' you ain't up to snuff yet, I see. // dotit kill ^em if they dotH die onder the knife; if you can carry ''em thro' tht operation^ and they die next day, they always die & sunthin' else^ and the doctor is made a man for ever, and a day arterwards too. Do you apprehend now, my boy?' * Yes, 'says I, 'I apprehend there are tricks in other trades as well as the clock trade — onlj some on 'em ain't quite so innocent ; and there's some / wouldn't like to play, / know.' * No,' said he, * I suppose not ; ' and then, haw-hawin' right out, * How soft we are, Sam, ain't we ? * said he. "Yes ; presarve the principle of the mechanism of your consti- tution, for it ain't a bad one, and presarve the balances, and the rest you can improve on without endangerin' the whole engin'. One thing, too, is sartain : a power imprudently given to the executive, or to the people, is seldom or never got back. I ain't been to England since your Reform Bill passed, but some folks do say it works complete ; that it goes as easy as a loaded waggon down hill, full-chisel. Now, suppose that Bill was found to be alterin' of the balances, so that the constitution couldi't work many years longer without a-comin' to a dead stand, could you repeal it, and say *As you were'? Let a bird out o' your hand, and try to catch it agin, will you ? No, Squire," said the Clock- maker, ^^you have laws a-regilatin' of quack doctors, but none ! ^■ i •■ I-: 1: ■5-.:' i68 THE CXOCKMAKER a-regilatif^ of quack politicians. Now^ a quack doctor is had enough^ and dangerou enough^ gracious knows; but a quack politician is a devil outlawed^ thafs a fact,^' CHAPTER VII SLAVERY The road from Kentville to Wilmot passes over an extensive and dreary sand plain equally fatiguing to man and horse, and after three hours* hard dragging on this heavy road, we looked out anxiously for an inn to rest and refresh our gallant " Clay." "There it is," said Mr. Slick. "You'll know it by that high Eost, on which they have jibitted one of their governors a-horse- ack as a sign. The first night I stopt there, I vow I couldn't sleep a wink for the creakin* of it, as it swung backwardy and for- wards in the wind. It sounded so nateral like, that I couldn't help a-thinking it was raal human hung in chains there. It put me in mind of the slave to Charleston, that was strung up for pysonin* his master and mistress." When we drove up to the door, a black man came out of the stable, and took the horse by the head in a lii.tless and reluctant manner ; but his attention was shortly awakened by the animal, whom he soon began to examine atten- tively. " Him don't look like blue-nose," said blacky ; " sartin him stranger. Fine critter dat, by gosh ! no mistake." From the horse his eye wandered to us, when, slowly qui ing his hold of the bridle, and stretching out his head, and s. ;Dping anxiously and cautiously round to where the Clockmaker was standing, he suddenly pulled off his hat, and throwing it up in the air, uttered one of the most piercing yells I think I ever heard, and throwing himself upon the ground, seized Mr. Slick round the legs with his arms. " Oh, Massa Sammy I Massa Sammy ! Oh, my Gor ! Only tink old Scippy see you once more ! How you do, Massa Sammy ? Gor Ormighty bless you ! How you do ? " " Why, who on airth are you ? " said the Clockmaker. " What onder the sun do you mean by actin' so like a ravin', distracted fool ? Get up this minit, and let me see who you be, or I'll give you a slockdologer in the ear with my foot, as sure as you are born. Who be you, you nigger you ? " " Oh, Massa Sam ! you no recollect old Scip— Massa 'Siah's nigger boy? How's Massa 'Sy, and Missy 'Sy, and all our children, and all our folks to our house to home ? De dear little lily ! de sweet little booty ! de little missy baby ! — oh, how I do lub 'em all 1 " In this manner the creature ran on, incoherently asking ques- tions, sobbing, and blaming himself for having left so good a master and so comfortable a home. " How is dat black villain, SLAVERY 169 dat CatvO ?" he continued. " Massa no hang him yet ?" " He is sold," said Mr. Slick, "and has gone to New OxUem, I guess." "Oh, I grad, upon my soul, I wery grad ! Then he catch it, de dam' black nigger ! It sarve him right. I hope dey cowskin him well. I grad of dat. Oh, Gor ! dat is good 1 I tink I see him, da ugly brute ' I hope dey lay it into him well -damn him I" " I guess you'd better onharness Old Clay, and not leave him standin' all day in the sun," said Mr. Slick. " Oh, goody gracy, yes," said the overjoyed negro, " dat I will ; and rub him down too, till him all dry as bone — debil a wet hair left. Oh 1 only tink, Massa Sammy Slick — Massa Snmmy Slick — Scip see you again !" The Clockmaker accompanied him to the stable, and there gratified the curiosity of the affectionate creature by answering all his inquiries after his master's family, the state of the planta- tion and the slaves. It appears that he had been inveigled away by the mate of a Boston vessel that was loading at his master's estate ; and notwithstanding all the sweets attending a state of liberty, was unhappy under the influence of a cold climate, hard labour, and the absence of all that real sympathy which, notwith- standing the rod of the master, exists nowhere but where there is a community of interests. He entreated Mr. Slick to take him into his e%rtployment, and vowed eternal fidelity to him and his family if he would receive him as a servant, and procure his manumission from his master. This arrangement having been eflfected to the satisfaction of both parties, we proceeded on our journey, leaving the poor negro happy in the assurance that he would be sent to Slickville in the autumn. " I feel provoked with that black rascal," said Mr. Slick, " for bein' such a born fool as to run away from so good a master as Josiah, for he is as kind-hearted a critter as ever lived — that's a fact — and a plaguy easy man to his niggers. I used to tell him I guessed he was the only slave on his plantation, for he had to see arter everythin' ; he had a dreadful sight more to do than they had. It was all work and no play with ^/w." " You forget," said I, "that his labour was voluntary, and for his own benefit ; while that of the negro is compulsory, and productive of no advantage to himself. What do you think of the abolition of slavery in the United States?" said I ; "the interest of the subject appears to ha/e increased very much of late." "Well, I don't know," said he. "What is your opinion?" "I ask," I replied, the English gal I met a-travellin' in the steamboat axed me that same question. * What do yoix think of slavery,' said she, ' sir ? ' ' Slavery, marm,' said I, 'is only fit for w/iife iovers —d.nd I made the old lady a scrape of the leg— 'only fit,' said I, 'for white lovers and black niggers.' ' What an Idea,' said she, ' for a free I ' (I y Vi;« ■j .v-jI IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) k /. 4i. 1.0 I.I 11.25 !r 14.0 2.0 U 11.6 V] ''m ^j>i '/ W J Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 m ,\ qv \\ r\^ "4^ I/O TlIE CLOCKMAKER man in a land of freedom to utter 1 How that dreadful political evil demoralises a people ! how it deadens our feelin's 1 how it hardens the heart 1 Have yo\i no pity for the black f^ said she; * for you treat the subject with as much levity as if, to use one of the elegant and fashionable phrases of this country, you thought it all in my eye.* 'No, marm,' said I, with a very grave face, *I haven't no pity at all for 'em — not the least mite nor morsel in the world.* * How dreadful ?' said she, and she looked ready to expire with sentiment. * No feelin' at all,* said I, 'marm, for the blacks^ but a great deal of feelin' for the whites; for instead of bein' all in mjf eye^ it's all in my nose^ to have them nasty, horrid, fragrant critters a-goin' thro' the house like scent-bottles with the stoppers but, a-parfumin' of it up like skunks — it's dreadful ! Oh,' said I, *it's enough to kill the poor critters. Phew 1 it makes me sick, it does. No ; 1 keeps my pity for the poor whites, for they have the worst of it, by a long chalk.' " * The constant contemplation of this painful subject,' said she^ 'destroys the vision, and its deformities are divested of theif horrors by occurring so often as to become familiar.' 'That,' I said, ' miss, is a just observation, and a profound and cute one too ; it is actilly founded in n^tur'. I know a case in pint,' I said. * What is it?' said she, for she seemed mighty fond of anecdotes (she wanted 'em for her book, I guess ; for travels without anecdotes is hke a puddin' without plums — all dough). ' Why,* said I, * marm, father had an English cow — a pet cow too — and a beautiful critter she was, a brindled shorthorn ; he gave the matter of eighty dollars for her. She was begot by — ' ' Never mind her pedigree,' said she. * Well,' says I, ' when the great eclipse was — you've heerd tell how it frightens cattle, haven't you ? — Brindle stared and stared at it so, she lost her eyesight, and she was as blind as a bat ever arterwards ; I hope I may be shot if she warn't. Now, I guess, we that see more of slavery than you do are like Brindle ; we have stared at it so long, we can't see it as other folks do.' •You are a droll man,' said she, *very droll. But seriously now, Mr. Slick, do you not think these unfortunate fellow-critters, our sable brothers, if emancipated, educated, and civilised, are capable of as much refinement and as high a degree of polish as the whites ?' * Well,' said I, 'joking apart, miss, there's no doubt on it. I've been considerable down South a-tradin' among the whites, and a kind-hearted, hospitable, liberal race o' men they be, as ever I was among — generous, frank, manly folks. Well, I see'd a good deal of the niggers too : it couldn't be otherwise. I must say your conclusion is a just one. I could give you several instances. But there is one in pitickelar that settles the question ; I see'd it myself with my own eyes to Charleston, South Car'.' Now,' ..aid she, * that's what I like to hear. Give me facts,* said she ; * for I am no visionary, Mr. Slick. I don't build up a theory, and then go a-lookin' for facts to support it ; but gather facts candidly and BTiAVERY 171 impartially, and then coolly and logically draw the inferences. Now, tell me this instance which you think conclusive, for nothin* interests us English so much as what don't consarn us. Our West Indgy emancipation has worked so well, and improved our islands so much, we are enchanted with the very word emancipation ; it has a charm for English ears, beyond anything you can conceive. Them islands will have spontaneous production afore long. But the refinement and polish of these interestin' critters, the blacks — your story, if you please, sir.' " .: "* I have a younger brother, miss,' said I, *that lives down to Charleston — he's a lawyer by trade — Squire Josiah Slick. He is a considerable of a literary character ; he's well known in the great world as the author of the " Historical, Statistical, and Topographi- cal Account of Cuttyhunck," in five volumes— a work that has raised the reputation of American genius among foreign nations amazin', I assure you. He's quite a self-taught author too. I'll give you a letter of introduction to him.* ' Me 1 ' said she, a-drawin* up her neck like a swan. * You needn't look so scared,' said I, * marm ; for he is a married man, and has one white wife and four white children, fourteen black concu — * • I wanted to hear, sir,' said she, quite snappishly, 'of the negroes, and not of your brother and his domestic arrangements.' * Well, marm,' said I, 'one day there was a dinner-party to Josiah's, and he made the same remark you did, and instanced the rich black merchant of Philadelphia, which position was contradicted by some other gentlemen there ; so 'Siah offered to bet one thousand dollars he could produce ten black gentlemen, who should be allowed, by good judges, to be more polished than any like number of whites that could be selected in the town of Charleston. Well, the bet was taken, the money staked, and a note made of the tarms. " ' Next day at ten o'clock, the time fixed, Josiah had his ten niggers nicely dressed, paraded out in the streets, a-facin' of the sun, iand brought his friends and the umpires to decide the bet. Well, when they got near 'em, they put their hands to their eyes and looked down to the ground, and the tears ran down their cheeks like anything.' 'Whose cheeks?* said she; 'blacks or whites ? This is very interestin'.' ' Oh, the whites, to be sure.* said 1. * Then,' said she, ' I will record that mark of feelin' with great pleasure ; I'll let the world know it. It does honour to their heads and hearts.' 'But not to their eyes, tho',' said I ; 'they swore they couldn't see a bit. ' What the devil have you got there, Slick ? ' says they ; ' it has put our eyes out. Damn them ! how they shine 1 They look like black japanned tea-trays in the sun — it's blindin' — it's the devil; that's a fact.' 'Are you satisfied?* said |Sy. ' Satisfied of what ? ' says they ; * satisfied with bein' as blind as buzzards, eh?' 'Satisfied of the high polish niggers are capable of,' said Josiah. 'Why shouldn't nigger hide, with lots of Day & Martin's blackin' on it, take as good a polish a<« 172 THE CLOCKMAKER cow-hide, eh ?* Oh, Lord I if you'd 'a heerd what a roar of larftef there was, for -all Charleston was there a'most ; what a hurrayin' and shoutin'. It was grand fun. I went up and shook hands with Josiah, for I always liked a joke, from a boy. ' Well done, 'Sy,' says I ; * you've put the leake into 'em this hitch real complete. It's grand I ' * But,' says he, * don't look so pleased, Sam. They are cussed vexed, and if we crow I'll have to fight every one on 'em, that's sartin ; for they are plaguy touchy, them Southerners — fight for nothin' a'most. But, Sam,' said he ' Connecticut ain't a bad school for a boy, arter all, is it?* I could tell you fifty such stories, miss,' says I. She drew up rather stately. * Thank you, sir,' said she ; * that will do. I am not sure whether it is a joke of your brother's, or a hoax of your'n ; but whosoever it is, it has more practical wit than feelin' in it.' " The truth is," said the Clockmaker, "nothin' raises my dander more than to hear English folks and our eastern citizens a-talking about this subject that they don't onderstand, and have nothin' to do with. If such critters will go down south a-meddlin' with things that don't consarn 'em, they desarve what they catch. I don't mean to say I approve of lynchin', because that's horrid ; but when a feller gets himself kicked, or his nose pulled, and lams how the cowskin feels, I don't pity him one morsel. Our folks won't bear tamperin' with, as you colonists do. We won't stand no nonsense. The subject is jist a complete snarl ; it's all tangled, and twisted, and knotted so, Old Nick himself wouldn't onravel it. What with private rights, public rights, and State rights, feelin', expediency, and public safety, it's a considerable of a tough subject. The truth is, I ain't master of it myself. I'm no bookman ; I never . was to college, and my time has been mostly spent in the clock trade and tooth business, and all I know is jist a little I've picked up by the way." " The tooth business I " said I. " What is that ? Do you mean to say jrou are a dentist ? " " No," said he, laughing ; " the tooth business is pickin' up experience. Whenever a feller is considerable cute with us, we say he has cut his eye-teeth — he's tolerable sharp — and the study of this I call the tooth business. Now, I ain't able to lay it all down what I think as plain as brother Josiah can, but I have an idea there's a good deal in name, and that slavery is a word that frightens more than it hurts. It's some o' the branches or grafts of slavery that want cuttin' off. Take away corporal punishment from the masters, and give it to the law ; forbid separatin' families, and the right to compel marriage and other connexions, and you leave slavery nothin' more than sarvitude in name, and somethin' quite as good in fact. "Every critter must work in this world, and a labourer is a slave ; but the labourer only gets enough to live on from day to day, while the slave is tended in infancy, sickness, and old age, and has spare time enough given him to aim a good deal too. A married woman, if you come to that, is a slave ; call her what you SLAVERY 173 I will — wife, woman, angel, termegant, or devil — she's a slave. And if she happens to get the upper hand, her husband is a slave ; and if he don't lead a worse life than any black nigger, when he's under petticoat government, then my name is not Sam Slick. I'm no advocate of slavery, Squire, nor are any of our folks — it's bad for the niggers, worse for the masters, and a cuss to any country ; but we have got it, and the question is, What are we to do with it ? Let them answer that, now ; I don't pretend to be able to." The subject was a disagreeable one, but it was a striking peculiarity of the Clockmaker's that he never dwelt long upon anything that was not a subject of national boast. He therefore very dexterously shifted both the subject and the scene of it to England, so as to furnish himself with a retort, of which he was at all times exceedingly fond. " I have heerd tell," said he, " that you British have 'mancipated jrour niggers." "Yes," said I; " thank God ! slavery exists not in the British Empire." " Well, I take some credit to myself for that," said the Clockmaker ; " it was me that sot that a-goin*, anyway." " You I " said I, with unfeigned astonishment — "you/ How could you^ by any possi- bility, be instrumental in that great national act?" "Well, I'll tell you," said he, " tho' it's a considerable of a long story too. When I returned from Poland, vid London, in the hair spekilation of Jabish Green, I went down to Sheffield to execute a commis- sion. I had to bribe some master workmen to go out to America ; and if I didn't fix 'em, it's a pity. The critters wouldn't go at no rate, without the most extravagant, onreasonable wages, that no business could afford nohow. Well, there was nothin' to be done but to agree to it ; but things worked right in the long run : our folks soon lamt the business, and then they had to work for half nothin', or starve. It don't do to drive too hard a bargain always. " When I was down there, a gentleman called on me one arter- noon, one John Canter by name, and says he, ' Mr. Slick, I've called to see you, to make some inquiries about America. Me and my friends think of emigratin' there.* 'Happy,' says I, *to give any information in my power, sir. And a sociable dish o' chat is what I must say I do like most amazin' ; it's kind o' nateral to me, talkin' is.' So we sot down, and chatted away about our great nation all the arternoon and evenin', and him and me got as thick as two thieves afore we parted. * If you will be at home to-morrow evenin',' says he, * I will call again, if you will give me leave.' * Sartain,' says I ; ' most happy.' " Well, next evenin' he came again ; and in the course of talk, says he, * I was born a Quaker, Mr. Slick.' ' Plenty of 'em with us,' says I ; * and well-to-do in the world too. Considerable stiff folks, in their way, them Quakers ; you can't no more move 'em than a church steeple. I like the Quakers too,' says I, 'for there are worse folks than them a-goin' in the world, by a long chalk.' ' Well, lately I've dissented from 'em,' saya he. ' Curious that, too,' i 174 THE CLOCKMAKER 1^ says I. * I was a-thinkin* the beaver did not shade the inner man quite as much as I have see'd it. But,' says I, ' I like dissent ; it shows a man has both a mind and a conscience too. If he hadn't a mind, he couldn't dissent ; and if he hadn't a conscience, he wouldn't. A man, therefore, who quits his church always stands a notch higher with me than a stupid, obstinate critter that sticks to it 'cause he was born and brought up in it, and his father belonged to it ; there's no sense in that. A Quaker is a very set man in his way ; a dissenter, therefore, from a Quaker must be what I call a considerable of a — ' 'Obstinate man,' says he, larfin'. * No,' says I, ' not jist exactly that ; but he must carry a pretty tolerable stiff upper lip, tho', that's a fact.' " * Well,' says he, ' Mr. Slick, this country is an aristocratic country — a very aristocratic country, indeed — and it an't easy for a man to push himself when he has no great friends or family interest. And besides, if a man has some little talent,' says he (and he squeezed his chin atween his forefinger and thumb, as much as to say, *Tho' I say it that shouldn't say it, I have a tolerable share of it, at any rate '), ' he has no opportunity of risin' by bringin' himself afore the public. Every avenu' is filled. A man has no chance to come forward. Money won't do it, for that I have ; talent won't do it, for the opportunity is wantin'. I believe I'll go to the States, where all men are equal, and one has neither the trouble of risin' nor the vexation of failin'.' 'Then you'd like to come for'ard in public life here, would you,* said I, * if you had a chance ? ' * I would,' says he ; ' that's the truth.' * Give me your hand, then,' says I, 'my friend ; I've got an idea that it will make your fortin'. I'll put you in a track that will make a man of you first, and a nobleman arterwards, as sure as thou says thee. Walk into the niggers^ says I, ' and they'll help you to walk into the whites^ and they'll make you walk into Parliament! ' Walk into the niggers ! ' said he, and he sat and stared like a cat a-watchin' of a mouse-hole — 'walk into the niggers! What's that? I don't onderstand you.' 'Take up 'mancipation,* says I, 'and work it up till it works you up; call meetin's, and make speeches to 'em; get up societies, and make reports to *em ; get up petitions to Parliament, and get signers to *em. Enlist the women on your side, of all ages, sects, and denominations. Excite 'em first, tho*, for women-folks are poor tools till you get 'em up ; but excite 'em, and they'll ^o the whole figur* — wake up ths whole country. It's a ^rand subject for it — broken-hearted slaves a-killin' of themselves m despair, or dyin' a lingerin' death — taskmaster's whip a-cutting into theirflesh — burnin' suns — days o' toil— nights o' grief — pestilential rice-grounds — chains — starvation — misery and death — grand figur's them for ora/rK, and make splendid speeches, if well put together. " Says you, ' Such is the spirit of British freedom, that the moment a slave touches its sea-girt shores his spirit busts its SLAVERY 175 ^: bonds ; he stands Emancipated, disenthralled, and liberated ; his chains fall right off, and he walks in all the naked majesty of a great big black he-nigger ! ' It sounds Irish that, and Josiah used to say they come up to the Americans a'most in pure eloquence. It's grand ; it's sublime that, you may depends When you get 'em up to the right pitch, then says you, *We have no power in Parliament. We must have abolition members.' * Certainly,' says they ; * and who so fit as the good, the pious, the Christian-like John Canter?' Up you are put, then, and bundled, free-gratis, head over heels, into Parliament. When you are in the House o' Commons, at it agin, blue-jacket, for life ! Some good men, some weak men, and a'most a plaguy sight of hypocritical men, will jine you. Cant carries sway always now. A large party in the House, and a wappin' large party out of the House, must be kept quiet, conciliated — or whatever the right word is— and John Canter is made Lord Lavender.' " * I see, I see 1 ' said he ; ' a glorious prospect of doin' good, of aidin' my fellow-mortals, of bein' useful in my generation. I hope for a more imperishable reward than a coronet — the approbation of my own conscience.' * Well, well ! ' says I to myself ; ' if you ain't the most impudent as well as the most pharisaical villain that ever went onliung, then I never see a finished rascal, that's all.' He took my advice, and went right at it, tooth and naU ; worked day and night, and made a'most a deuce of a stir. His name was in every paper — a meetin' held here to-day, that j?,reat and good man John Canter in the chair — a meetin' held there to-morrow, addressed most eloquently by that philanthropist, philosopher, and Christian, John Canter — a society formed in one place, John Canter secretary — a society formed in another place, John Canter president. John Canter everywhere. If you went to London, he handed you a subscription-list ; if you went to Brighton, he met you with a petition ; if you went to Sheffield, he filled your pockets with tracts. He was a complete jack-o'-lantern — here, and there, and everywhere. The last I heerd tell of him, he was in Parliament, and a-goin' out Governor- Gineral to some of the colonies. I've seen a good many superfine saints in my time, Squire, but this critter was the most uppercrust one I ever see'd ; he did beat all. " Yes, the English desarve some credit, no doubt ; but when you subtract electioneerin' party spirit, hypocrasy, ambition, ministerial flourishes, and all the other onder-tow causes that operated in this work — which at best was but clumsily contrived, and bunglin'ly executed — it don't leave so much to brag on, artci all, does it, now ? " m .f m ■•i^:lPff^ 176 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER VIII TALKING LATIN " Do you see them 'are country gals there," said Mr. Slick, "how they are tricked out in silks, and touched oflf with lace and ribbon to the nines, a-mincin' along with parasols in their hands, as if they were afeerd the sun would melt them like wax, or take the colour out of their face like a printed cotton blind ? Well, that's jist the ruin of this country. It ain't poverty the blue-noses have to fear — for that they needn't know, without they choose to make acquaintance with it — but it's gentility. They go the whole hog in this country, you may depend. They ain't content to appear what they be, but want to be what they ain't ; they live too extravagant, and dress too extravagant, and won't do what's the only thing that will supply this extravagance — that is, be industrious. Jist go into one of the meetin'-houses, back here in the woods, where there ought to be nothin' but homespun cloth, and home-made stuffs and bonnets, and see the leghorns and palmettors, and silk and shalleys, morenos, gauzes, and blonds, assembled there, enough to buy the best farm in the settlement. There's somethin' not altogether jist right in this ; and the wust of these habits is, they ruinate the young folks, and they grow up as big goneys as the old ones, and eend in the same wa^r, by bem' half-starved at last ; there's a false pride, false feelin', and false edication here. I mind once I was down this way to New Canaan, a-vendin' o' my clocks, and who should I overtake but Nabal Green, a-pokin' along in his waggon, half loaded with notions from the retail shops, at the cross-roads. * Why, Nabal,' said I, * are you a-goin' to set up for a merchant ? for I see you've got a considerable of an assortment of goods there. You've got enough o' them to make a pedlar's fortin' a'most. Who's dead, and what's to pay now ? ' "*Why, friend Slick,' said he, 'how do you do? Who'd *a thought of seein' you here ? You see, my old lady,' said he, * is a-goin' for to give our Arabella, that's jist returned from boardin' school to Halifax, a let-ofT to-night. Most of all the bettermost folks in these parts are axed ; and the doctor, the lawyer, and the minister is invited. It's no skim-milk story, I do assure you ; but upper crust, raal jam. Ruth intends to do the thing handsome. She says she don't do it often ; but when she does, she likes to go the whole figur*, and do it genteel. If she hasn't a show of dough- nuts and prasarves, and apple sarse, and punkin' pies and sarsages, it's a pity ; it's taken all hands of us, the old lady and her gals too, besides the helps, the best part of a week past preparin'. I say nothin' ; but it's 'most turned the house inside out, a-settin' up things in this room, or toatin' 'em out of that into t'other, and aU TALKING LATIN 177 I'd 'a in such a conflustigation, that I'm glad when they send me of an arrand to be out of the way. It's lucky them harrycanes don't come every day, for they do scatter things about at a great rate — all topsy-turvy like, that's sartain. Won't you call in and see us tonight, Mr. Slick.? Folks will be amazin glad to see you ; and I'll show you some as pritty-lookin' ^als, to my mind, in our settle- ment here, as you'll see in Connecticut, I know.' 'Well,' says I, * I don't care if I do. There's nothin' I like more nor a frolic ; and the dear little critters, I do like to be among them too— that's sartin.' " In the evenin' I drives ^ver to Nahal's, and arter puttin' up my beast, Old Clay, I goes into the house ; and sure enough, there they was as big as life — the young ladies a-sittin' on one side, and the men a-standin' up by the door, and a-chatterin' away in great good-humour. There was a young chap a-holding forth to the men about politics ; he was a young trader, sot up by some marchant in Halifax to ruinate the settlement with good-for-nothin' trumpery they hadn't no occasion for — chock full of concait and affectation, and beginnin' to feel his way with the yard-stick to Assembly already. " Great dandy was Mr. Bobbin. He looked jist as if he had come out of the tailor's hands, spic and span ; put out his lips and drew down his brow, as if he had a trick of thinkin* sometimes ; nodded his head and winked, as if he knew more than he'd like to tell ; talked of talent quite glib, but disdainful, as if he wouldn't touch some folks with a pair of tongs. A great scholar, too, was Mr. Bobbin ; always spoke dictionary, and used heavy artillery words. I don't entertain no manner of doubt, if Government would take him at his own valiation, he'd be found to be a man o' great worth. I never liked the critter, and always gave him a poke when I got a chance. He was a town meetin' orator — a grand school that to lam public speakin'. Squire ; a nice muddy pool for youn^ ducks to larn to swim in. He was a grand hand to read lectures m blacksmiths' shops, at Vatr ues and the like ; and talked politics over his counter at a great size. He looked big, and talked big, and altogether was a considerable big man in his own concait. He dealt in reform. He had ballot tape, suffrage ribbon, Radical lace, no-tithe hats, and beautiful pipes with a democrat's head on 'em, and the maxim, *No sinecure' onder it. Everything had its motto. ♦ No, sir,' said he, to someone he was a-talkin' to as I came in, 'this country is attenuated to pulverisation by its aristocracy — a proud, a haughty aristocracy ; a corrupt, a lignious, and lapidinous aristocracy. Put them into a parcel, envelope 'em with a panoply of paper, tie them up and put them into the scales, and they will be found wantin'. There is not a pound of honesty among 'em — nay, not an ounce, nay, not a pennyweight. The article is wantin' ; it is not in'their catalogue. The word never occurs either in their order or in their invoice. They won't M 178 THE CLOCKMAKER bear the inspection ; they are not marchantable — nothin' but refuse.' "'If there is no honesty in market,' says I, *why don't you import some, and. retail it out? You might make some con- siderable profit on it, and do good to the country too ; it would be quite patriotic that. I'm glad to see,' says I, 'one honest man a-talkin' politics, anyhow ; for there's one thing I've obsarved in the course of my experience, whenever a man suspects all the world that's above him of roguery, he must be a pretty con- siderable superfine, darned — ("Rogue himself," whispered some critter standin' by, loud enough for all on 'em to hear, and to set the whole party a-chockin' with larfter)— 'judge of the article himself,' says I. * Now,' says I, 'if you do import it, jist let us know how you sell it— by the yard, the quart, or the pound — will you ? for it ain't sot down in any tradin' tables I've seen, whether It is for long measure, dry measure, or weight.* " 'Well,' says he, a-tryin' to larf, as if he didn't take the hint, * I'll let you know, for it might be of some use to you, perhaps, in the clock trade. Maybe you'll be a customer, as well as the aristocrats. But how is clocks now?' said he, and he gave his neighbour a nudge with his elbow, as much as to say, ' I guess it's my turn now.' ' How do clocks go ? ' ' Like some young country traders I've seen in my time,* says I ; * don't go long afore they run down, and have to be wound up again. They are considerable better too, like them, for bein' kept in their own place, and plaguy apt to go wrong when moved out of it.' Thinks I to myself, * Take your change out o' that, young man, will you ? ' for I'd heerd tell the goney had said they had cheats enough in Nova Scotia, without havin' Yankee clockmakers to put new wrinkles on their horns. 'Why, you are quite witty this evenin',* said he; 'you've been masticatin' mustard, I apprehend.' ' I was always fond of it from a boy,' said I, 'and it's a pity the blue-noses didn't chew a little more of it, I tell you ; it would help 'em, p'raps, to digest their jokes better, I estimate.' 'Why, I didn't mean no offence,' said he, ' I do assure you.' ' Nor I neither,' said I ; * I hope you didn't take it in any way parsonal.' " Says I, ' Friend Bobbin, you have talked a considera))le hard of me afore now, and made out the Yankees 'most as big rogues as your great men be.' * But I never thought anything hard of it ; I only said,' says I, * He puts me in mind of Mrs. Squire Ichobad Birch.* 'What's that?* says the folks. 'Why,' says I, * Marm Birch was a-comin' downstairs one mornin' airly, and what should she see but the stable-help a-kissin' of the cook in the comer of the entry, and she a-fendin' off like a brave one. ' You good-for- nothin' hussy,' said Marm Birch, ' get out o' my house this minit I I won't have no such ondecent carryin's on here, on no account. You horrid critter, get out o' my Sf^t 1 And as for you,' said she to the Irishman, ' don't you never dare to show your ugly face here TALKING LATIN 179 hard again. I wonder you ain't ashamed of yourselves. Both on you begone 1 — away with you, bag and baggage ! ' " ' Hullo I ' said the Squire, as he follered down in his dressin'-gownd and slippers — * hullo 1 ' says he, ' what's all this touss about?' * Nothin',' says Pat, a-scratchin' of his head — *nothin', your honour, only the mistress says she'll have no kissin' in the house but what she does herself. The cook had Hiy jack-knife in her pocket, your honour, .ind wouldn't ^'ivt it to me, but sot off and ran here with it, and I arter her, and caught her. I jist put my hand in her pocket promisc'ously to sarch for it, and v/hen I found it I was a-tryin' to kiss her by way of forfeit like, and that's the long and the short o' the matter. The mistress says she'll let no one but herself in the house do that same.' * Tut, tut, tut ! ' says the Squirt, and larfed right out. ' Both on you go and attend to your work then, and let's hear no more about it.' Now, you are like Marm Birch, friend Bobbin,' says I ; 'you think nobody has a right to be honest but yourself; but there is more o' that, arter all, a-goin' in the world than you have any notion of, I tell you.' " Feelin' a hand on my arm, I turns round, and who should I see but Marm Green. 'Dear mel' said she, 'is that you, Mr. Slick ? I've been lookin' all about for you ever so long. How do you do ? I hope I see you quite well.' ' Hearty as brandy, marm,' says I, 'tho' not quite as strong, and a great deal heartier for a-seein' of you. How be you ? ' ' Reasonable well, and stirrin',' says she. ' I try to keep a-movin' ; but I shall give the charge of things soon to Arabella. Have you seen her yet ? ' ' No,' says I, * I haven't had the pleasure since her return ; but I hear folks say she is a'most a splendid fine gal.' 'Well, come then,' said she, a-takin' of my arm, ' let me introduce you to her. She ts a fine gal, Mr. Slick, that's a fact ; and tho' I say it that shouldn't say it, she's a considerable of an accomplished gal too. There is no touch to her in these parts. Minister's darter that was all one winter to St. John can't hold a candle to her.* ' Can't she, tho' ?' said I. ♦ No,' said she, ' that she can't, the concaited minx, tho' she does carry her head so high. One of the gentlemen that played at the show of the wild beast said to me, says .he, " I'll tell you what it is, Marm Green," said he, " your darter has a beautiful touch, that's a fact ; most gals can play a little, but yours does the thing complete." * And so she ought,' says she, ' takin' her five quarters into view.' ' Five quarters ! ' said I. ' Well, if that don't beat all ! Well, I never heerd tell of a gal havin' five quarters afore since I was raised. The skin,' said I, ' I must say, is a most beautiful one ; but as for the taller, who ever heerd of a gal's taller?' "♦The fifth quarter 1 Oh, Lord!' said I, 'marm, you'll kill me,' and I haw-hawed right out. 'Why, Mr. Slick,' says she, * ain't you ashamed? Do, for gracious' sake, behave yourself. ww,-%v ' I. ,1 I * -1 M z8o THE CLOCKMAKER I meant five quarters' sclioolin'. What a droll man you be I' * Oh I five quarters schoolin' I says I ; * now I onderstand.' *And,' said she, 'if she don't paint, it's a pity.' * Paint 1 ' said I. * Why, you don't say so 1 I thought that 'are beautiful colour was all nateral. Well, I never could kiss a gal that painted. Mother used to say it was sailin' under false colours. I 'most wonder you could allow her to paint, for I'm sure there ain't the least morsel of occasion for it in the world ; you may say that — it is a pity.' * Get out,' said she, * you imperance ! you know'd better nor that. I meant her pictur's.' * Oh ! her pictur's,' said I ; * now I see. Does she, tho' ? W^ell, that is an accomplish- ment you don't often see, I tell you,* * Let her alone for that,' said her mother. ' Here, Arabella dear,' said she, * come here, dear, and bring Mr. Slick your pictur* of the river that's got the two vessels in it — Captain Noah Oak's sloop and Peter Zinck's schooner.' ' Why, my sakes, mamma,' said Arabella, with a toss of her pretty little saucy mug, ' do you expect me to show that to Mr. Slick ? Why, he'll only larf at it — he larfs at everything that ain't Yankee.' 'Larfl' said I. 'Now, do tell. I guess I'd be very sorry to do such an ongenteel thing to anyone, much less, miss, to a young lady like you. No, indeed, not I.' ' Yes,' said her mother, 'do, 'Bella dear. Mr. Slick will excuse any little defects, I'm sure.' ' She's only had five quarters, you know, and you'll make allowances, won't you, Mr. Slick ? ' 'I dare say,' I said, ' they don't stand in need of no allowances at all ; so don't be- so backward, my dear.' Arter a good deal of mock modesty, out skips Miss Arabella, and returns with a great large water- colour drawin' as big as a winder shutter, and carried it up afore her face, as a hookin' cow does a board over her eyes to keep her from makin' right at you. 'Now,' said her mother, Ibokin' as pleased as a peacock when it's in full fig, with its head and tail up — * now.' says she, * Mr. Slick, you are a considerable of a judg« of paintin — seein' that you do bronzin' and gildin' so beautiful — now, don't you call that splendid ?' ' Splendid ! ' says I ; * I guess there ain't the beat of it to be found in this country, anyhow. I never see'd anything like it. You couldn't ditto it in the Province, I know.' * I guess not,' said her mother ; 'nor in the next province neither.' ' It sartainly beats all,' said I. And so it did. Squire. You'd 'a died if you'd 'a see'd it, for larfin'. There was the two vessels, one right above t'other, a great big black cloud on the top, and a church steeple standin' under the bottom of the schooner. *Well,' says I, 'that is beautiful; that's a fact. But the water,' said I, ' miss — you haven't done that yet ; when you put that in, it will be complete.' * Not yet,' said she ; ' the greatest difficulty 1 have in paintin' is in makin' water.* * Have you, tho' ? * said I. 'Well, that's a pity.' 'Yes,' said she, 'it's the hardest thing in natur' ; I can't do it straight, nor make it look of the right colour —and Mr. Acre, our master, said you must always make water is ! judge lutiful— I guess kOW. I ovince, rovince Squire. le two he top, looner. water,' hat in, ifficulty said I. ling in colour rater is TALKING LATIN l8l straight lines in paintin', or it ain't natural, and ain't pleasin'. Vessels, too, are considerable hard. If you make 'em straight up and down, tliey look stiff and ongraceful like ; and if you put 'em onder sail, then you should know all about fixin' the sails the right way for the wind — if you don't, it's blundersome. I'm terribly troubled with the effect of wind.' 'Oh 1 ' says I. * Yes, I am,' said she; 'and if I could only manage wind and water in paintin' landscapes, why, it would be nothin' — I'd do 'em in a jiffy ; but to produce the right effect, these things take a great deal of practice.' I thought I should have snorted right out to hear the little critter run on with such a regular bam. 'Oh, dear,' said I to myself, ' what pains some folks do take to make fools of their children 1 Here's as nice a little heifer as ever was, a-lettin* of her clapper run away with her like an onruly horse. She don't know where it will take her to yet, no more than the man in the moon.' " As she carried it out again, her mother said, * Now, I take some credit to myself, Mr. Slick, for that. She is throwed away here ; but I was detarmined to have her educated, and so I sent her to boardin'-school, and you see the effect of her five quarters. Afore she went she was three years to the Combined School in this district ; that includes both Dalhousie and Sharbrooke. You have combined schools in the States, haven't you, Mr.* Slick ? ' ' I guess we have,' said I — *boys and gals combined. I was to one on 'em, when I was considerable well growed-up. Lord, what fun we had t It's a grand place to lam the multiplication table at, ain't it ? I recollect once — ' * Oh, fie 1 Mr. Slick, I mean a seminary for young gentlemen and ladies, where they lam Latin and English combined.' * Oh, latten I ' said I. ' They lam latten there, do they ? Well, come ; there is some sense in that. I didn't know there was a factory of it in all Nova Scotia. I know how to make latten. Father sent me clean away to New York to lam it. You mix up calamine and copper, and it '.nakes a brass as near like gold as one pea is like another. And then there is another kind o' latten — workin' tin over iron ; it makes a most complete imitation of silver. Oh ! a knowledge of latten has been of great sarvice to me in the clock trade, you may depend. It has helped me to a 'nation sight of the gtnu7vt»e metals ; that's a fact.* " ' Why, what on airth are you a-talkin' about ? ' said Mrs. Green. * I don't mean that latten at all ; I mean the Latin they lam at schools.' ' Well, I don't know,' said I ; * I never see'd any other kind o' latten, nor ever heerd tell of any. What is it ? * * Why, it's a — it's a — oh, you know well enough,' said she, ' only you make as if you didn't, to poke fun at me. I believe, on my soul, you've been a-bammin' of me the whole' blessed time.* ' I hope I may be shot if I do,' said I ; * so do tell me what it is. Is it anything in the silk factory line, or the straw-plat, or the cotton warp way ? ' ' Your head,' she said, considerable miffy, * is always ^ rl l82 THE CLOCKMAKER t a-runnin' on a factory. Latin is a — Nabal,' said she, * do tell me what Latin is.' ' Latin ? ' says he. * Why, Latin is — ahem 1 — it's — what they teach at the Combined School.' * Well,' says she, * we all know that as well as you do, Mr. Wisehead ; but what is it ? Come here, Arabella dear, and tell me what Latin is.' * Why, Latin, ma,' said Arabella, * is — am-o, I love ; am-at, he loves ; am-mus, we love — that's Latin.' * Well, it does sound dreadful pretty, tho', don't it ? * says L * And yet, if Latin is love, and love is Latin, you hadn't no occasion '— and I got up, and slipped my hand into hers — 'you hadn't no occasion for to go to the Combined School to I^rn it ; for natur',' says I , * teaches that a — * and I was whisperin' of the rest o' the sentence in her ear, when her mother said, 'Come, come, Mr. Slick, 'what's that you are a-sayin' of?' ' Talkin' Latin,' says I, a-winkin' to Arabella ; 'ain't we, miss ? ' * Oh, yes,' said she, returnin' the squeeze of my hand, and larfin' — 'oh, yes, mother. Arter all, he onderstands it complete.' 'Then take my seat here,' says the old lady, ' and both on you sit down and talk it, for it will be a good practice for you,* and away she sailed to the eend of the room, and left us a-talh'n' Latin. " I hadn't been a-sittin' there long afore Dr. Ivory Hovey came up, a-smirkin', and a-smilin', and a-rubbin' of his hands, as if he was a-goin* to say somethin' vtry witty ; and I observed the moment he came, Arabella took herself off. She said she couldn't bide him at all. ' Well, Mr. Slick,' said he, ' how be you ? How do you do ? — upon an average, eh ? Pray, what's your opinion of matters and things in general, eh ? Do you think you could exhibit such a show of fine bloomin' gals in Slickville, eh ? Not a bad chance for you, I guess ' — (and he gave that word guess a twang that made the folks larf all round) — said he, 'for you to spekilate for a wife, eh ?' 'Well,' says I, 'there is a pretty show o gals, that's sartain ; but they wouldn't condescend to the like o' me. I was a-thinkin' there was some on 'em that would jist suit you to a T.' *■ MeP says he, a-drawin' of himself up and lookin' big— ' wtf./* and he turned up his nose like a pointer dog when the birds flowed off. * When / honour a lady with the offer of my hand,' says he, 'it will be a lady! ' Well,' thinks I, ' if you ain't a cdnsaited critter, it's a pity. Most on 'em are a plaguy sight too good for you, so I will jlst pay you off in your own coin.' Says I, ' You put me in mind of Lawyer Endicot's dog.' ' What's that ?* ' says the folks, a-crowdin' round to hear it, for I see'd plain enough that not one on 'em liked him one morsel. Says I, ' He had a great big black dog that he used to carry about with him everywhere he went, into the churches and into the court. The dog was always a-botherin' of the judges, a-gettin' between their legs, and they used to order him to be turned out every day, and they always told the lawyer tc keep his dog at hom«. At last old Judge Person said to the constable one day, in a voice of thunder, TAI,KING LATIN 183 " Turn out that dog I " and the judge gave him a kick that sent him half-way across the room, yelpin' and howlin' like anything. The lawyer was properly vexed at this, so says he to the dog, " Pompey," says he, " come here ! " and the dog came up to him? " Didn't I always tell you," said he, " to keep out o' bad company . Take that ! " said he, a-givin' of him a'most an awful kick — " take that 1 And the next time, only go among gentlemen," and away went the dog, lookin' foolish enough, you may depend.* 'What do you mean by that 'are story, sir ? ' said he, a-bristlin' up like a mastiff. ' Nothin',' says I ; * only that a puppy sometimes gets into company that's too good for him, by mistake ; and if he forgets himself, is plaguy apt to get bundled out faster than he came in,' and I got up and walked away to the other side. " Folks gave him the nickname of * Endicot's Dog ' arter that, and I was glad on it ; it sarved him right, the consaited ass. I heerd the critter a-mutterin' sunthin' of the Clockmaket illustratin' his own case, but as I didn't want to be parsonal, I made as if I didn't hear him. As I went over towards the side-table, who should I see a-leanin' up against it but Mr. Bobbin, pretty considerable well shaved, with a glass o' grog in his hand, a-lookin' as cross as you please, and so far gone he was a-thinkin' aloud, and a-talkin' to himself. ' There comes " Soft Sawder," * says he, * and " Human Natur* " ' (a-meanin' me) — ' a Yankee broom — wooden nutmegs — cussed sarcy — great mind Vi kick him ! Arabella's got her head turned — consaited minx — gooi exterior, but nothin' in her — like Slick's clocks, all gilded and varnished outside, and soft wood within 1 Jist do for Ivory Hovey — same breed — big head — long ears — a pair of donkeys ! Shy old cock, that deacon — ^joins Temperance Societies to get popular- slips the gin in ; pretends it's water — I see him 1 But here goes 1 I believe I'll slip off.' Thinks I, 'It's gettin' on for mornin' ; I'll slip off too,' so out I goes, and harnesses up Old Clay, and drives home. "Jist as I came from the bam, and got oppos//^ to the house, I heerd someone a-crackin' of his whip, and a-bawlin' out at a great size ; and I looked up, and who should I see but Bobbin in his waggon agin' the pole fence. Comin' in the air had made him blind-drunk. He was a-lickin' away at the top pole of the fence, and a-fancyin' his horse was there and wouldn't go. * Who comes there ? ' said he. * Clockmaker,' saic' I. * Jist take my horse by the head — that's a good feller — will you ? ' said he, * and lead him out as far as the road. Cuss him ! he won't stir.' * Spiles a good horse to lead him,' says I ; *he always looks for it again. Jist you lay it on to him well ; his hams ain't made o' hickory like mine. Cut away at him ; he'll go by-and-by,' and I drove away, and left him a-cuttin' and a-slashin' at the fence for dear life. Thinks I, *You are not the first ass that has been brought to a poll. anyhow/ m iti m m m 1 84 THE CLOCKMAKER "Next day I met Nabal. * Well,' said he, *Mr. Slick, you hit our young trader rather hard last night ; but I wam't sorry to hear you, tho', for the critter is 50 full of consait, it will do him good. He wants to pull everyone down to his own level, as he can't rise to theirs, and is for everlastin'ly spoutin' about House of Assembly business, officials, aristocrats, and such stuff. He'd be a plaguy sight better, in my mind, attendin' to his own business, instead of talkin' of other tolks's ; and usin' his yardstick more, and his tongue less. And between you and me, Mr. Slick,' said he — * tho* I hope you won't let on to anyone that I said anything to you about it — but atween ourselves, as we are alone here, I am a-thinkin' my old woman is in a fair way to turn Arabella's head too. All this paintin', and singin', and talkin' Latin is very well, I consait, for them who have time for it, and nothin' better to do at home. It's better, p'raps, to be a-doin' of that than a-doin' of nothin' ; but for the like o' us, who have to live by farmin', and keep a considerable of a large dairy, and upwards of a hundred sheep, it does seem to me sometimes as if it were a little out of place. Be candid now,' said he, ' for I should like to hear what your raal genuwrne opinion is touchin' this matter, seein' that you know a good deal of the world.' "*Why, friend Nabal,' says I, 'as you've axed my advice, I'll give it to you, tho' anythin' partainin' to the apron-string is what I don't call myself a judge of, and feel delicate of meddlin' with. Woman is woman,' says I, ' that's a fact ; and a feller that will go for to provoke hornets is plaguy apt to get himself- stung, and I don't know as it does not sarve him right too. But this, I must say, friend, that you're- jist about half right ; that's a fact. The proper music for a farmer's house is the spinnin'-wheel,_ the true paintin' the dye stufTs, and the tambourin' the loom.' Teach Arabella to be useful, and not showy, prudent and not extravagant. She is jist about as nice a gal as you 11 see in a day's ride. Now, don't spoil her, and let her get her head turned, for it would be a raal right-down pity. One thing you may depend on for sartin, as a maxim in the farmin' line — a good darter and a good housekeeper is plaguy apt to make a good wife and a good mother! " > .. r f ^ ; ..•n CHAPTER IX ■(s; >»v THE SNOW-WREATH Whoever has read Haliburton's "History of Nova Scotia" — which, next to Mr. Josiah Slick's " History of Cuttyhunk," in five volumes, is the most important account of unimportant things I have ever seen — will recollect that this good city of Annapolis is the most ancient one in North America ; but there THE SNOW-WREATH 185 f is one fact omitted by that author, which I trust he will not think an intrusion upon his province if I take the liberty of recording, and that is, that in addition to its being the most ancient, it is also the most loyal city of this Western Hemisphere. This character it has always sustained, and "loj-al," as a mark of particular favour, has ever been added to its cognomen by every government that has had dominion over it. Under the French, with whom it was a great favourite, it was called Port Royal ; and the good Queen Anne, who condescended to adopt it, permitted it to be called Annapolis Royal. A book issuing from Nova Scotia is, as Blackwood very justly observes in his never-to-be-forgotten nor ever-to-be-sufficiently-admired review of the first series of this work, one of those unexpected events that, from their great improbability, appear almost incredible. Entertaining no doubt, therefore, that every member of the Cabinet will read this lusus naturce^ I take this opportunity of informing them that our most gracious Sovereign, Queen Victoria, has not in all her widespread dominions more devoted or more loyal subjects than the good people of Annapolis Royal. " Here it was," said I, '* Mr. Slick, that the egg was laid of that American bird whose progeny have since spread over this immense continent." " Well, it is a'most a beautiful bird too, ain't it ? " said he. " What a plumage it has I What a size it is I It is a whopper, that's sartain ; it has the courage and the soarin* of the eagle ; and the colour of the peacock, and his majestic step and keen eye. The world never see'd the beat of it ; that's a fact. How streaked the English must feel when they think they once had it in the cage, and couldn't keep it there 1 It is a pity they are so invious, tho*, I declare." " Not at all, I assure you," I replied ; " there is not a man among them who is not ready to admit all you have advanced in favour of your national emblem : the fantastic strut of the peacock, the melodious and attic tones, the gaudy apparel, the fondness for display which is perpetually exhibiting to the world the extended tail with painted stars, the amiable disposition of the bird towards the younger and feebler offspring of others, the unwieldy — " " I thought so," said he. " I hadn't ought to have spoke of it afore you, for it does seem to rile you, that's sartain ; and I don't know as it was jist altogether right to allude to a thin' that is so humblin' to your national pride. But, Squire, ain't this been a hot day? I think it would pass muster among the hot ones of the West Indgies a'most. I do wish I could jist slip off my flesh and sit in my bones for a space, to cool myself, for I ain't see'd such thawy weather this many a year, I know. I calculate I will brew a little lemonade, for Marm Bailey ginerally keeps the materials for that Temperance Society drink. " This climate o' Nova Scotia does run to extremes ; it has the hottest and the coldest days in it I ever see'd. I shall never forget lu m m 1 86 THB CLOCKMAKER a night I spent here three winters ago. I come very near freezin* to death. The very thought of that night will cool me the hottest day in summer. It was about the latter eend of February, as far as my memory sarves me, I came down here to cross over the bay . to St. John, and it was considerable arter daylight down when I arrived. It was the most violent, slippery weather, and the most cruel cold, I think, I ever mind seein' smce I was raised. " Says Marm Bailey to me, * Mr. Slick,' says she, * I don't know what onder the sun I'm a-goin' to do with you, or how I shall be able to accommodate you ; for there's a whole raft of folks from Halifax here, and a batch of moose-huntin' officers, and I don't know who all ; and the house is chock full, I declare.' * Well,' says I, ' I'm no ways partikiler — I can put up with 'most anything. I'll jist take a stretch here afore the fire on the floor ; for I'nre'en a'most chilled to death, and awful sleepy too. First come,' says I, ' first sarved, you know's an old rule ; and luck's the word nowadays. Yes, I'll jist take the hearthrug for it, and a good warm berth it is too.* * Well,' says she, ' I can't think o' that, at no rate. There's old Mrs. Fairns m the next street but one ; she's got a spare bed she lets out sometimes. I'll send up to her to get it ready for you, and to-morrow these folks will be off, and then you can have your old quarters again.' "So, arter supper, old Johnny Farquhar, the English help, showed me up to the widder's. She was considerable in years, but a cheerfulsome old lady and very pleasant ; but she had a darter, the prettiest gal I ever see'd since I was created. There was sunthin' or other about her that made a body feel melancholy too. She was a lovely-lookin' critter, but her countenance was sad ; she was tall and well-made, had beautiful-lookin' long black hair and black eyes ; but oh ! how pale she was ! — and the only colour she had was a little fever-like-lookin' red about her lips. She was dressed in black, which made her countenance look more marble like ; and yet, whatever it was — natur*, or consumption, or desartion, or settin' on the anxious benches, or what not — that made her look so, yet she hadn't fallen away one morsel, but was full-formed and well-waisted. I couldn't keep my eyes off"her. " I felt a kind o' interest in her. I seemed as if I'd like to hear her story, for sunthin' or another had gone wrong — that was clear ; some little story of the heart, most like, for young gals are plaguy apt to have a tender spot thereabouts. She never smiled, and when she looked on me she looked so streaked and so sad, and cold withal, it made me kinder superstitious. Her voice, too, was so sweet, and yet so doleful, that I felt proper sorry, and amazin' curious too. Thinks I, ' I'll jist ax to-morrow all about her, for folks have pretty 'cute ears in Annapolis: there ain't a smack of a kiss that ain't heard all over the town in two twos, and sometimes they think they hear 'em even afore they happen. It's a'most a grand place for news, like all other small places I evei: THE SNOW-WREATH 187 to see'd.' Well, I tried jokin' and funny stories, and every kind of thing to raise a larf, but all wouldn't do ; she talked and listened and chatted away as if there was nothin' above partikiler ; but still no smile ; her face was cold, and clear, and bright as the icy surface of a lake, and so transparent too, you could see the veins in it. Arter a while the old lady showed me to my chamber, and there was a fire in it : but, oh ! my sakes, how cold ! it was like goin' down into a well in summer; it made my blood fairly thicken agin. — Your tumbler is out. Squire ; try a little more of that lemonade ; that iced water is grand. — Well, I sot over the fire a space, and gathered up the little bits o* brands and kindlin' wood (for the logs were green, and wouldn't bum up at no rate) ; and then I ondressed and made a desperate jump right into the cold bed, with only half clothes enough on it for such weather, and wrapped up all the clothes round me. Well, I thought I should have died. The frost was in the sheets, and my breath looked like the steam from a boilin' tea-kettle, and it settled right down on the quilt, and froze ^ into white hoar. The nails in the house cracked like a gun with a wet wad, they went off like thunder, and now and then you'd hear someone run along ever so fast, as if he couldn't show his nose to it for one minit, and the snow creakin' and crumplin' onder his feet, like a new shoe with a stiff sole to it. The fire wouldn't blaze no longer, and only gave up a blue smoke, and the glass in the winder looked all fuzzy with the frost. Thinks I, * I'll freeze to death to a sartainty. If I go for to drop off asleep, as sure as the world I'll never wake up agin. I've heerd tell of folks afore now feelin' dozy- like out in the cold, and layin' down to sleep, and goin' for it, and I don't half like to try it, I vow.' Well, I got considerable narvous like, and I kept awake near about all night, tremblin' and shakin' like ague. My teeth fairly chattered agin ; first I rubbed one foot agin t'other, then I doubled up all in a heap, and then rubbed all over with my hands. Oh I it was dismal, you may depend. At last I began to nod and doze, and fancy I see'd a Aeck o* sheep a-takin' a split for it over a wall, and tried to count 'em, one one, and couldn't ; and then I'd start up, and then nod ag felt it a-comin' all over, in spite of all I could do ; and thinks I, * It ain't so everlastin' long to daylight now ; I'll try it, anyhow, I'll be darned if I don't, so here goes I ' " Jist as I shot my eyes, and made up my mind for a nap, I hears a low moan and a sob ; well, I sits up and listens, but all was silent agin. Nothin' but them etarnal nails a-goin' off, one arter t'other, like anything. Thinks I to myself, 'The wind's a-gettin' up, I estimate ; it's as like as not we shall have a change o' weather.' Presently I heerd a light step on the entry, and the door opens softly, and in walks the widder's darter, on tip-toe, dressed in a long white wrapper ; and after peerin' all round to see if I was asleep, she goes and sits down in the chimbly comer, and picks up the coals and fixes the fire, and sits a-lookin' at it for ever so long; by I m m ml i m 1 88 THE CLOCKMAKBR Oh ! so sad, and so melancholy ; it was dreadful to tee her. Says I to myself, says I, 'What on airth brings the poor critter here, all alone, this time o' night ; and the air so plaguy cold too ? I guess she thinks I'll freeze to death ; or p'raps she's walkin' in her sleep.' But there she sot lookin' more like a ghost than a human. First she warmed one foot and then the other ; and then held her hands over the coals, and moaned bitterly. * Dear I dear!' thinks I, 'that poor critter is a-freezin' to death as well as me ; I do believe the world is a-comin' to an eend right off, and we shall all die of cold,' and I shivered all over. Presently she got up, and I saw her face, part covered with her long black hair, and the other parts so white and so cold, it chilled me to look at it, and her footsteps I consaited sounded louder, and I cast my eyes down to her feet, and I actilly did fancy they looked froze. Well, she come near the bed, and lookin' at me, stood for a space without stirrin', and then she cried bitterly. ' He, too, is doomed,' said she ; ' he is in the sleep of death, and so far from home, and all his friends too.' " * Not yet,' said I, * you dear critter you, not yet, you may depend ; but you will be if you" don't go to bed.' So says I, * Do, for gracious' sake, return to your room, or you will perish.' Mt's frozen,' says she ; ' it's deathly cold. The bed is a snow-wreath, and the piller is ice, and the coverlet is congealed ; the chill has struck mto my heart, and my blood has ceased to flow. I'm doomed, I'm doomed to die ; and oh 1 how strange, how cold is death 1' Well, I was all struck up of a heap ; I didn't know what on airth to do. Says I to myself, says I, * Here's this poor gal in my room carryin' on like ravin' distracted mad in the middle of the night here ; she's oneasy in her mind, and is a-walkin' as sure as the world, and how it's a-goin* for to eend, I don't know ; that's a fact.' * Katey,' says I, * dear, I'll get up and give you my bed if you are cold, and I'll go and make up a great rousin' big fire, and I'll call up the old lady, and she will see to you, and get you a hot drink ; sunthin' must be done, to a sartainty, for I can't bear to hear you talk so.' ' No,' says she, ' not for the world I What will my mother say, Mr. Slick? and me here in your room, and nothin' but this wrapper on. It's too late how ; it's all over ; ' and with that she fainted, and fell right across the bed. Oh, how cold she was ; the chill struck into me ; I feel it yet ; the very thought is enough to give one the ague. Well, I'm a modest man. Squire — I was always modest from a boy ; but there was no time for cere- mony now, for there was a sufferin', dyin* critter — so I drew her in, and folded her in my arms, in hopes she would come to, but death was there. " I breathed on her icy lips, but life seemed extinct, and every time I pressed her to me, I shrunk from her till my back touched the cold gypsum wall. It felt like a tomb, so chill, so damp, so cold — (you have no notion how cold them 'are kind o' walls are, they beat all natur')— squeezed between this frozen gal on one side, \ THE SNOW-WREATH ith pry ed 189 and the icy plaster on the other, I felt as if my own life was a-ebbin' away fast. * Poor critter ! ' says I, ' has her care of me brought her to this pass ? I'll press her to my heart once more ; p'raps the httle heat that's left there may revive her, and I can but die a few minutes sooner.' It was a last effort, but it succeeded ; she seemed to breathe again. I spoke to her, but she couldn't answer, tho' I felt her tears flow fast on my bosom ; but I was actilly sinking fast myself now. I felt my eend approachin'. Then came reflection ; bitter and sad thoughts they were too, I tell you. ' Dear, dear I ' said I ; * here's a pretty kettle o' fish, ain't there ! We shall be both found dead here in the momin', and what will folks say of this beautiful gal, and one of our free and enlightened citizens, found in such a scrape? Nothin' will be too bad for 'em that they can lay their tongues to, that's a fact : the Yankee villain, the cheatin' Clockmaker, the—' The thought gave my heart a jupe, so sharp, so deep, so painful, I awoke and found I was a-huggin' a snow-wreath, that had sifted through a hole in the roof on the bed ; part had melted and trickled down my breast, and part had froze to the clothes and chilled me through. I woke up, proper glad it was all a dream, you may depend — but amazin' cold and dreadful stiff ; and I was laid up at this place for three weeks, with the 'cute rheumatiz, that's a fact. "But your pale young friend," said I ; "did you ever see her again? Pray, what became of her?" "Would you believe it ?" said he ; " the next momin', when I came down, there sot Katey by the fire, lookin' as bloomin' as a rose, and as chipper as a canary bird. The fact is, I was so uncommon cold, and so sleepy too, the night afore, that I thought everybody and everything looked cold and dismal too. ' Momin', sir,' said she, as I entered the keepin' room ; *mornin' to you, Mr. Slvck t How did you sleep last night? I'm most afeerd you found that 'are room dreadful cold, for little Binney opened the window at the head of the bed to make the fire draw and ^tart the smoke up, and forgot to shut it again, and I guess it was wide open all night. I minded it arter I got to bed, and I thought I should ha' died a-larfin'.' * Thank you,' said I, ' for that ; but you forgot you come and shot it yourself.' * Me ! ' said she ; * I never did no such thing. Catch me, indeed, a-goin' into a gentleman's chamber ; no, indeed, not for the world.' *If I wasn't cold,' said I, 'it's a pity ; that's all 1 I was e'en a'most frozen as stiff as a poker, and near about frightened to death too, for I see'd you or your ghost last night, as plain as I see you now ; that's a fact.* * A ghost 1 ' said she ; * how you talk I do tell. Why, how was that?' Well, I told her the whole stcy from beginning to eend. First she larfed ready to split at my account of the cold room, and my bein' afeerd to go to sleep ; but then she stopped pretty short, I guess, and blushed like anything when I told her about her comin' into the chamber, and looked proper frightened, not knowin' what was to come next ; but when she ill .'; li m !r1 ^1 n m Iff t90 THE CLOCKMAKER heerd of her turnin' first into an icicle, and then into a snow-drift, she haw-hawed right out. I thought she actilly would have gone into hysterics. ' You might have frozen,* said she, ' in raal right- down airnest, afore I'd a-gone into your chamber at that time o' night to see arter you, or your fire either,' said she, 'you may depend. I can't think what on airth could have put that 'are crotchet into your head.' * Nor I neither,' said I ; * and besides,' said I, a-ketchin' hold of her hand, and drawin' her close to me — * and besides,' says I, * I shouldn't have felt so awful cold neither, if you — ' * Hold your tongue,' said she, 'you goney you, this minit ; I won't hear another word about it. And go right off and get your breakfast, for you was sent for half an hour ago.' * Arter bein' mocked all night,' says I, * by them 'are icy lips of your ghost, now I see them 'are pretty little sarcy ones of yourn, I think I must — and I'll be darned if I won't have a — ' * Well, I estimate you won't, then,' said she, ' you impidence ! ' — and she did fend off like a brave one, that's a fact ; she made frill, shirt collar, and dickey fly like snow. She was as smart as a fox-trap, and as wicked as a meat-axe ; there was no gettin' near her nohow. At last said she, * If there ain't mother a-comin', I do declare, and my hair is all spiflicated, too, like a mop — and my dress all rumfoozled, like anything ! Do, for gracious' sake, set things to rights a little afore mother comes in, and then cut and run ; my heart is in my mouth, I declare.' Then she sot down in a chair, and put both hands behind her head a-puttin' in her combs. ' Oh, dear,' said she, pretendin' to try to get away, ' is that what you call puttin' things to rights ? Don't squeeze so hard ; you'll choke me, I vow,' ' It ain't me that's a-chokin' of you,' says I, ' it's the heart that's in your mouth. Oh. if it had only been them lips instead of the ghost I ' * Quick, says she, a-openin' of the door, ' I hear mother on the steps ; quick, be off. But mind you don't tell anyone that 'are ghost story ; people might think there was more in it than met the ear.' 'Well, well,' said I to myself, 'for a pale face, sad, melancholy-lookin' gal, if you haven't turned out as rosy a rompin', larkin', light-hearted a heifer as ever I see'd afore, it's a pity.'— There's another lemon left. Squire, s'pose we mix a l?ttle more sourin' afore we turn in, and take another glass * to the widder's darter.'** ■I .■;:■■. ■'-i^ -. -^ i CHAPTER X - ' ,•;,••: : ■:-..,_ ""- - THE TALISMAN .^'.' . \ ''■^.^y.J^ '"^h^- It was our intention to have left Annapolis this morning after breakfast, and proceed to Digby, a small but beautiful village, situated at the entrance of that magnificent sheet of water, once \ THE TALISMAN 19t known as Port Royal Basin, but lately by the more euphonious appellation of the " Gut." But Mr. Slick was missing, nor could any trace of him be found ; I therefore ordered the horse again to the stable, and awaited his return with all due patience. It was five o'clock in the afternoon before he made his appearance. ** Sorry to keep you a-waitin'," said he, *' but I got completely let in for it this momin* ; I put my foot in it, you may depend. I've fot a grand story to tell you, and one that will make you larf too, know. Where do you think I've been, of all places onder the sun ? Why, I've been to court ; that's a fact. I see'd a great crowd of folks about the door, and thinks I, * Who's dead, and what's to pay now ? I think I'll just step in for a minit and see.' '• * What's on the carpet to-day ?' says I to a blue-nose ; 'what's ?oin' on here ? ' ' Why,' said he, ' they are a-goin for to try a ankee.' * What for ? ^ said I. * Stealin',' said he. ' A Yankee,' says I to myself ; * well, that's strange too ; that beats me any- how. I never heard tell of a Yankee being such a bom fool as to steal. If the feller has been such a ravin' destracted goney, I hope they will hang him, the varmint ; that's a fact. It's mostly them thick-skulled, wrong-headed, cussed stupid fools the British that do that 'are ; they ain't brought up well, and have'n't got no edication. But our folks know better ; they've been better larned than to do the like o' that— they can get most anything they want by gettin' hold on the right eend in a bargain. They do manage beautiful in a trade, a slight o' hand, a loan, a failin', a spekilation, swap, thimble-rig, or somehow or another in the rigular way within the law ; but as for stealin' —never 1 I don't believe he's a Yankee. No,* thinks I, * he can't be American, bred and bom, for we are too enlightened for that, by a long chalk.' We have a great respect for the laws, Squire ; we've been bred to that, and always uphold the dignity of the law. I recollect once that some of our young citizens away above Montgomery got into a flare-up with a party of boatmen that lives on the Mississippi ; a desperate row it was too, and three Kentuckians were killed as dead as herrin's. Well, they were had up for it afore Judge Cotton. He was one of our revolutionary heroes, a starn, hard-featured old man, quite a Cato ; and he did curry 'em down with a heavy hand, you may depend — he had no marcy on 'em. There he sot with his hat on, i cigar in his mouth, his arms folded, and his feet over the rail, lookin' as sour as an onripe lemon. * Bring up them culprits,' said he ; and when they were brought up, he told 'em it was scandalous, and only fit for English and ignorant foreigners that sit on the outer porch of darkness, and not high-minded, intelligent Americans. You are a disgrace,' said he, ' to our great nation, and. I hope I shall never hear the like of it agin. If I do, I'll put you on your trial as sure as you are bora ; I hope I may be skinned alive by wild cats if I don't.' Well, they didn't like this kind o' talk at all, '*^ij n H< ■r I » 192 THE CLOCKMAKER 80 that night away they goes to the judge's house, to teach him a thing or two with a cowskin, and kicked up a deuce of a row ; and what do you think the neighbours did ? Why, they jist walked in, seized the ringleaders and lynched them, in less than ten minits, on one of the linden trees afore the judge's door. " They said the law must be vindicated^ and that courts must be upheld by all quiet, orderly people for a terror to all evildoers. The law must take its course. 'No,' thinks I, *he can't be a Yankee ; if he was, and had a-wanted the article, he would ha' done him out of it, p'raps in a trade, bein' too experienced a man of business for him ; but steal it, never, never — I don't believe it, I vow.* Well, I walked into the court-house, and there was a great crowd of folks there, a-jabberin' and a-talkin' away like anything (for blue-nose needn't turn his back on anyone for talkin* — the critter is all tongue, like an old horse). Presently in come one or two young lawyers in a dreadful hurry, with great piles of books onder their arms with white leather covers, and great bundles of papers tied with red tape, and put 'em down on the table afore 'em, lookin' very big with the quantity of larnin' they carried. Thinks I, * Young shavers, if you had more of that in your heads, and less under your arms, you would have the use of your hands to play with your thumbs when you had nothin' to do.* Then came in one or two old lawyers, and sot down and nodded here and there to some o' the upper-crust folks o' the county, and then shook hands amazin* hearty with the young lawyers, and the young lawyers larfed, and the old ones larfed, and they all nodded their heads together like a flock of geese agoin' thro' a gate. " Presently the sheriff calls out at the tip eend of his voice, * Clear the way for the judge ! ' And the judge walks up to the bench, lookin' down to his feet to see he didn't tread on other folks' toes, and put his arm behind his back, and twirls the tail of his gown over it so, that other folks mightn't tread on his'n. Well, when he gets to the bench, he stands up as straight as a liberty- pole, and the lawyers all stands up straight too, and clap their eyes on his till he winks ; then both on 'em slowly bend their bodies foi^'ard till they nearly touch the tables with their noses, and then they sot down, and the judge took a look all round, as if he saw everything in gineral and nothin' in partikelar. I never see'd anything so queer afore, I vow. It puts me in mind o' the Chinese, but they bob their heads clean away down to the very floor. ** Well, then said the crier, * Oh yes ! Oh yes 1 His Majesty's (I mean her Majesty's) Court is now opened. God save the King (I mean the Queen 1) ' Oh 1 if folks didn't larf, it's a pity — for Pve often obsarved it takes but a very small joke to make a crowd larf. They'll larf at nothin' a'most. * Silence,' said the sheriff^ and all was as still as moonlight. It looked strange to me, you may depend, for the lawyers looked like so many ministers all dressed ii cit a S( THE TALISMAN 193 Ul **l '^J if g e ' i* in black gowns and white bands on, only they acted more like players than preachers, a plaguy sight." "But," said 1, "is this not the case in your country? Is there not some sort of professional garb worn by the Bar of the United States, and do not the barristers and the Court exchange those salutations which the common courtesies of hfe not only sanction, but imperatively require as essential to the preservation of mutual respect and general good breeding; ? " "What on airth," said the Clockmaker, "can a black gownd have to do with intelli;j;ence ? Them sort of liveries may do in Europe, but they don't convene to our free and enlightened citizens. It's too foreign for us, too unphiiosophical, too feudal, and a remnant o' the dark ages. No, sir ; our lawyers do as they hke.- Some on 'em dress in black, and some in white ; some carry walkin'-sticks, and some umbrellas, some whittle sticks with pen- knives, and some shave the table, and some put their legs under the desks, and some put 'em a-top of them, just as it suits them. They sit as they please, dress as they please, and talk as they please ; we are a free people. I guess if a judge in our country was to order the lawyers to appear all dressed in black, they'd soon ax him who elected him director-general of fashions, and where he found such arbitrary power in the Constitution, as that, committed to any man. " But I was agoin' for to tell you 'bout the trial. Presently one o' the old lawyers got up, and said he, * My lord,' said he, * I move^ your lordship, that the prisoner may be brought up.' And if it wam't a move it was a pity. The lawyer moved the judge, and the judge moved the sheriff, and the sherifT moved the crowd, for they all moved out together, leavin' hardly any one on them but the judge and the lawyers ; and in a few minits they all moved back agin with the prisoner. They seemed as if they had never see'd a prisoner before. When they came to call the jury they didn't all answer ; so says the sheriff to me, ' Walk in the box, sir — you, sir, with the blue coat.' * Do you indicate me, sir ? ' said I. * Yes,' says he, * I do ; walk in the box.' ' I give you thanks, sir,' says I, 'but I'd rather stand where I be, I've no occasion to sit ; and besides, I guess I must be a-movin'.' * Walk in the box, sir,' said he, and he roared like thunder. And says the judge, a-lookin' up, and smilin', and speakin' as soft as if butter woul'.in't melt in his mouth, • You must walk in the box, sir.' * Well,' says I, * to oblige you,' says I, * my lord, I will ; but there don't seem much room in it to walk, I vow.' * You are called upon, sir,' says the judge, ' as a talisman ; take your seat in the box, and be silent.' * If I must,' says 1, * I do suppose I must ; but I don't like the office, and I don't believe I've got a marker about me ; but if you've 'are a piece of chalk about you you could give me, or lend me an old pencil, I'll try to cypher it as well as I can, and do my possibles to give you satisfaction, my lord.' * What are you a-talkin' about, N M ;f I ■A I f 1 194 THE CLOCKMAKER sir ? ' said he. • What do you mean by such nonsense ? ' * Why,* says I, my lord, ' I've been told that in this country, and indeed I know it is {he practice all over our'n, for the jury to chalk; that is, every man chalks down on the wall his vote ; one man ten pounds, one twenty, another thirty, and another five pounds, and so ; and then they add them all up, and divide by twelve, and that makes the vardict. Now, if I'm to be talysmatty' says I, ' and keep county I'll chalk it as straight as a bootjack.' The judge throwed himself back in his chair, and turnin' to the sheriff, says he, ' Is it possible, Mr. Sheriff, that such an abominable practice as this exists in this country ? or that people, onder the solemn obligation of an oath, can conduct themselves with so much levity as ro make their var- dict depend upon chance, and not upon reason ? If I was to know an instance of the kind,' said he — and he looked battle, murder, and sudden death — * I'd both fine and imprison the jury — I would, by — ' Tand he gave the corner of his mouth a twist list in time to Keep in an oath that was on the tip of his tongue), and he hesitated a little to think how to get out of the scrape— at least, I concaited BO— by and with the full consent of my brethren on the bench. " I have my suspicions," said the Clockmaker, "that the judge had heerd tell of that practice afore, and was only waitin' for a complaint to take notice of it rigular-like, for them old judges are as cunnin' as foxes ; and if he had, I must say he did do the surprise very well, for he looked all struck up of a heap, like a vessel taken aback with a squall, agoin' down starn foremast. " * Who is that man ? ' said he. * I am a clockmaker, sir,' said I. * I didn't ask you w/iat you were, sir,' says he, a-colourin' up ; * I asked you wAo you were. * I'm Mr. Samuel Slick of Slickville, sir,' says I ; ' a clockmaker from Onion County, State of Connecticut, in the United States of America.' ' You are exempt,' said he ; * you may walk out of the box.' Thinks I to myself, 'Old chap, next time you want a talisman, take one of your own folks, will you ?' Well, when I looked up to the prisoner, sure enough I see'd he was one of our citizens, one * Expected Thome,' of our town, an endless villain, that had been two or three times in the State's prison. The case was a very plain one. Captain Billy Slocum produced a watch, which he said was his'n ; he said he went out arter dinner, leavin' his watch a-hangin' up over the mantelpiece, and when he returned to tea it was gone, and that it was found in Expected Thome's possession. Long afore the evidence was gone through, I see'd he was guilty, the villain. There is a sort of freemasonry in hypocrasy, Squire, you may depend. It has its signs and looks by which the brotherhood know eprh other; and as charity hopeth all things, and forgiveth all things, these appeals of the elect to each other from the lowest depths of woe, whether conveyed by the eye, the garb, or the tongue, are seldom made in vain. " Expected had see'd too much of the world, I estimate, not to THE TALISMAN t95 r k to know that. If he hadn't his go to-mectin' dress and looks on this day to the jury, it's a pity. He had his hairs combed dowti as straight as a horse's manr ; a little thin white cravat, nicely plaited and tied plain, garnished his neck, as a white towel does a dish of calve's head ; a standin'-up collar to his coat gave it the true cut, and the ^ t button! covered with cloth eschewed the gaudy ornaments ot jinful, carnal man. He looked as demure as a harlot at a christenm' — drew down the corners of his mouth, so as to contract the trumpet of his nose, and give the right bass twang to the voice, and turned up the whites of his eyes, as if they had been in the habit of lookin' in upon the inner man for self-examination and reproach. Oh, he looked like a martyr ; jist like a man who would suffer death for conscience' sake, and forgive his inemies with his dyin' breath. *' 'Gentlemen of the jury,' says Expected, ' I am a stranger and a sojourner in this land, but I have many friends and received much kindness, thanks be to Divine Providence for all His good- ness to me a sinner : and I don't make no doubt that tho' I be a stranger, his lordship's honour will, under Providence, see justice done to me. The last time I was to Captain Billy's house I see'd his watch, and that it was out of order, and I offered to clean it and repair it for him for nothin', free gratis — that I carUt prove. But I'll tell you what / can prove^ and it's a privilege for which I desire to render thanks, that when that gentleman, the constable, came to me, and said he came about the watch, I said to him, right out at once, *♦ She's cleaned," says I, "but wants regulatin' ; if Captain Billy is in a hurry for her he can have her, but he had better leave her two or three days to get the right beat." And never did I deny havin' it, as a guilty man would have done. ' And, my lord,' said he, 'and gendemen of the jury'— (and he turned up his ugly cantin' mug full round to the box)-*,* I trust I know too well the awful account I must one day give of the deeds done in the flesh to peril my immortal soul for vain, idle, sinful toys ;' and he held up his hands together, and looked upwards till his eyes turned in like them 'are ones in a marble statue, and his lips kept a-movin* some time as if he was lost in inward prayer. "Well, the constable proved it word for word, and the judge said it did appear that there was some mistake ; at all events, it did not appear there was evidence of a felonious takin', and he was acquitted. As soon as it was over. Expected comes to me in the corner, and says he, quite bold like, * Mornin', Slick, how do you do?' And then whisperin' in my ear, says he, 'Didn't I do 'em pretty? cuss 'em— that's all. Let old Connecticut- alone yet; she's too much for any on 'em, I know. The truth is, the moment I see'd that cussed critter, that constable, a-comin', I see'd his errand with half an eye, and had that 'are story ready-tongued and grooved for him as quick as wink.' Says I, * I wished they had a-hanged you, with all my heart ; it's such critters as you that lower ■I ; Sp 195 THE CLOCKMAKER the national character of our free and enlightened citizens, and degrade it in the eyes of foreigners.' * The eyes of foreigners be d--d ! ' said he. * Who cares what they think ? And as for these blue-noses, they ain't able to think. They ain't got two ideas to bless themselves with, the stupid, punkin-headed, consaited block- heads ! cuss me if they have.' * Well,' says I, *they ain't such an enlightened people as we are, that's sartain, but that don't justify you a bit ; you hadn't ought to have stolen that watch. That was wrong, very wrong indeed. You might have traded with him, and p^ot it for half nothin* ; or bought it and failed, as some of our importin' marchants sew up the soft-horned British ; or swapped it and forgot to give the exchange ; or bought it and give your note, and cut stick afore the note became due. There's a thousand ways of doin* it honestly and legally, without resortin', as foreigners do, to stealin'. We are a moral people ; a religious, a high-minded, and a high-spirited people ; and can do any and all the nations of the universal world out of anything, in the hundred of millions of clever shifts there are in trade. But as for stealin', I dispise it : it's a low, blackguard, dirty, mean action ; and I must say you're a disgrace to our great nation. An American citizen never steals^ he only gains the advantage / ' " CHAPTER XI ITALIAN PAINTINGS \\ The next morning we resumed our journey, and travelling through the township of Clements, and crossing Moose and Bear rivers, reached Digby early in the afternoon. It was a most delightful drive. When we left Annapolis the fog was slowly rising from the low grounds and resting on the hills, to gather itself up for a flight into uppc' air, disclosing, as it departed, ridge after ridge of the Granville Mountain, which lay concealed in its folds, and gradually revealing the broad and beautiful basin that extends from the town . to Digby. :/ 1 am too old now for romance, and, what is worse, I am corpulent. I find, as I grow stout, I grow less imaginative. One cannot serve two masters. I longed to climb the mountain peak, to stand where Champlain stood, and imagine the scene as It then was, when his prophetic eye caught revelations of the ^ future ; to visit the holy well where the rite of baptism was first performed in these provinces ; to trace the first encampments — the ruins of the rude fortifications — the first battle-ground. But, alas ! the day is gone. I must leave the fiold to more youthful competitors. I can gratify my eye as I drive along the road, but I must not venture into the forest. The natural ice-house — the ITALIAN PAINTINGS 197 cascade — the mountain lake— the beaver*s dam— the General's bridge— the apocryphal Rossignol — the iron mines ; and last, not „ least, the Indian antiquities. In short, each and all of the lions of this interesting place that require bodily exertion to be seen, I leave to succeeding travellers. I visit men, and not places. Alas 1 has it come to this at last — to gout and port wine ? Be it . so : I will assume the privilege of old age, and talk. At a short distance from the town of Annapolis we passed the Court-house, the scene of Mr. Slick's adventures the preceding day, and found a crowd of country people assembled about the door. More than a hundred horses were tied to the fences on either side of the road, and groups of idlers were seen scattered about on the lawn, either discussing the last verdict, or anticipating . the jury in the next. " I think," said Mr. Slick, " we have a right to boast of the justiciary of our two great nations ; for your'n is a great nation — that is a fact ; and if all your colonies were joined together, and added on to Old England, she would be most as great a nation as our'n." " You have good reason to be proud of your judiciary," said I ; " if profound learning, exalted talent, and inflexible integrity can make an establishment respectable, the Supreme Court of the United States is pre-eminently so ; and I have heard, from those who have the honour ot their acquaintance, that the judges are no less distinguished for their private worth than their public virtues. , I rejoice that it is so, for I consider the justiciary of America as its ' sheet-anchor. Amidst the incessant change of men and institu- tions so conspicuous there, this forms a solitary exception. To • the permanency and extensive power of this Court you are indebted to the only check you possess, either to popular tumult or arbitrary power, affording, as it does, the only effectual means of controlling the conflicts of the local and general governments, and rendering their movements regular and harmonious." " It is so," said he ; " but your courts and our'n are both tarred with the same stick — they move too slow. I recollect, once I was in old Kentuck, and a judge was sentincin' a man to death for murder. Says he, * Sooner or later punishment is sure to overtake the guilty man. The law moves slow, but it is sure and sartin. ^ Justice has been represented with a heel of lead, from its slow and . measured pace, but its hand is a hand of iron, and its blow is . death.' Folks said it was a beautiful idea that, and every chap that you met said, * Ain't that splendid ? Did ever old Mansfield V or Ellen Borou^ come up to that ? ' "'Well,' says I, 'they might come up to that, and not go very far neither. A funny sort o' figure of justice that ; when it's so plaguy heavy-heeled most anyone can outrun it ; and when its great iron fist strikes so uncommon slow, a chap that's any way spry is e'en a'most sure to give it the dodge.' No ; they ought mik 19$ THE CLOCKMAKER to clap on more steam. The French courts are the courts for me. I had a case once at Marsailles, and if the judge didn't turn it out of hand ready hooped and headed in less than no time, it's a pity. But I believe I must first tell you how I came for to go there. " In the latter eend of the year '28, I think it was, if my memory sarves me, I was in my little back studio to Slickville, with off coat, *pron on, and sleeves up, as busy as a bee, a-bronzin' and gildin' of a clock-case, when old Snow, the nigger help, popped in his head in a'most a terrible conflustrigation, and says he, ' Massa,' says he, 'if there ain't Massa Governor and the Gineral at the door, as I'm alive! What on airth shall I say?' 'Well,' says I, 'they have caught me at a nonplush, that's sartain ; but there's no help for it as I see — show 'em in. Mornin',' says I, 'gentlemen, how do you do ? I am sorry,' says I, * I didn't know of this pleasure in time to have received you respectfully. You have taken me at a short, that's a fact ; and the worst of it is, I can't shake hands along with you neither, for one hand, you see, is all covered with ile, and t'other with copper bronze.' * Don't mention it, Mr. Slick,' said his Excellency, ' I beg of you ; the fine arts do sometimes require detergants, and there is no help for it. But that's a'most a beautiful thing,' said he, 'you are a-doin' of; may I presume to chatichise what it is ? ' * Why,' said I, * Governor, that landscape on the right, with a great white two-storey house in it, havin' a washin' tub of apple sarce on one side, and a cart chock full of punkin pies on t'other, with the gold letters A. P. over it, is intended to represent this land of promise, our great country, Amerika ; and the gold letters A. P. initialise it Airthly Paradise.' ' Well,* says he, ' who is that he one on the left ? ' 'I didn't intend them letters H and E to indicate he at all,' said I, ' tho' I see now they do ; I guess I must alter that. That tall, graceful figur*,' says I, 'with wings, carryin' a loUg bowie knife in his right hand, and them small winged figures in the rear, with little rifles, are angels emigratin' from heaven to this country. *H and E means heavenly emigrants.' "'It's alle-— ;fm i 'fl •'I ■ % •j, (ill ■ ' ( I" K m 222 THE CLOCKMAKER supported and nourished on all sides, besides its trip-roots, that run right straight down into the ground (for all hard-wood trees have tap-roots, you know). Well, when a popular storm comes, it bends to the blast, do you see, till its fury is spent ; it gets a few leaves shook down, and perhaps a rotten branch or two twisted off; but when the storm is o'er, there it is agin bolt upright, as straight and stiff as a poker. But our Government is like one of our forest trees, all top and no branches, or downward roots, but a long, slim stalk, with a broom-head, fed by a few superficial fibres, the air, and the rain ; and when the popular gust comes, it blows it right over, a great onwieldy windfall, smashin' all afore it, and breakin' itself all up to pieces. It's too holler and knotty to saw, or to split, or to rip, and too shaky to plane, or to do anythin' with ; all its strength lies in growin' close alongside of others ; but it grows too quick, and too thick, to be strong. It has no intrinsic strength; some folks in England ain't up to this themselves, and raally talk like fools. They talk as if they were in a republic instead of a limited monarchy. If ever they get upsot, mark my words. Colonel, the squall won't come out of royalty, aristocracy, or prelacy, but out o' democracy, and a plaguy squally sea democracy is, I tell you : wind get's up in a minit ; you can't show a rag of sail to it, and if you don't keep a bright look-out, and shorten sail in time, you're wrecked or swamped afore you know where you be. I'd rather live onder an absolute monarch any day than in a democracy, for one tyrant is better nor a thousand ; oppression is better nor anarchy, and hard law better nor no law at all.' ' Minister,' says father (and he put his hands on his knees, and rose up slowly, till he stretched himself all out) ' I have sot here and heerd more abuse of our great nation, and our free and enlightened citizens, from you this ev'nin', than I ever thought I could have taken from any livin' soul breathin' ; it's more than I can cleverly swaller, or disgest either, I tell you. " * Now, sir,' says he, and he brought his two heels close together, and taking hold of his coat-tail with his left hand, brought his right hand slowly round to it, and then lifted it gradually up : if he was drawin' out a sword — ' and now, sir,' said he, makin' a lounge into the air with his arm, ' now, sir, if you was not a clergyman, you should answer it to me with your life, you should, I snore. It's nothin' but your cloth protects you, and an old friendship that has subsisted atween us for many years.' ' You revolutionary heroes. Colonel,' says minister, smilin', 'are covered with too much glory to require any aid from private quairels; put up your sword. Colonel, put it up, my good friend, and let us see how the cider is. I have talked so much, my mouth feels considerable rusty about the hinges, I vow.' ' I guess we had,' says father, quite mollified by that 'are little revolutionary hero, ' and I will sheathe it ; ' and he went thro' the form of puttin' a sword into the scabbard, and fetched his two hands together with a click that sounded amazin'ly THE CONFESSIONS OF A DEPOSED MINISTER 223 like the raal thin>f. • Fill your glass, Colonel,' says minister, • fill your glass, and I will give you a toast : May our Govet-nment never degenerate into a moby nor our mobs grow strong enough to become our government,^ ^' CHAPTER XV THE CONFESSIONS OF A DEPOSED MINISTER "Since I parted with you, Squire, at Windsor, last fall, I've been to home. There's been an awful smash among the banks in the States ; they've been blowed over, and snapped off, and torn up by the roots, like the pines in the southward in a tornado : awful work, you may depend. Everything prostrated as flat as if it had been chopped with an axe for the fire ; it's the most dismal sight I ever beheld. Shortly after I left you, I got a letter from Mr. Hopewell, a-tellin' of me there was a storm a-brewin', and advisin' of me to come to home as soon as possible, to see arter my stock in the Slickville bank, for they were carrying too much sa^l, and he was e'en a'most sartain it would capsize when the squall struck it. Well, .1 rode night and day ; I nearly killed Old Clay and myself too (I left the old horse at St. John's) ; but I got there in time, sold out my shares, and jist secured myself, when it failed tetotally. It won't pay five cents to the dollar ; a total wrack, stock and fluke. Poor old minister, he is nearly used up ; he is small potatoes now, and few in a hill. It made me feel quite streaV ed to see him, for he is a raal good man, a genu«//«^ primitive Cnristian, and one of the old school. 'Why, Sam,' said he, 'how do you do, my boy? The sight of you is actilly good for sore eyes. Oh ! I am glad to see you once more afore I go ; it does me good ; it happifies me, it does, I vow — for you always seemed kind o' nateral to me. I didn't think I should ever take any interest in anything agin ; but I must have a talk with you, it will do me good, it revives me. And now, Sam,' said he, ' open that 'are cupboard there, and take that big key off the nail on the right hand side, it's the key of the cellar; and go to the north bin, and bring up a bottle of the genuTvtne cider, it will refresh you arter your fatigue ; and give rne my pipe and tobacco, and we will have a talk, as we used to do in old times.' "'Well,' says I, when I returned and uncorked the bottle, * Minister,' says, I, ' it's no use a-talkin' '—and I took a heavy pull at the cider—' it's no use a-talkin', but there's nothin' like that 'are among the blue-noses, anyhow. I believe you might stump the univarse for cider— Ma/ caps all— it's super-excellent— that's a fact.* ** • I shall stump out of the univarse soon, Sam,' said he ; * I'm 224 THE CLOCKMAKER e'en a'inost done ; my body is worn out, and my spirits are none of the best now ; I'm a lone man. The old men are droppin' oflf fast into the grave, and the young men are troopin' off fast into the Far West ; and Slickville don't seem the same place to me it used to do no more. I'm well stricken in years now ; my life stretches over a considerable space of the colony time, and over all our republic : my race is run, my lamp is out, and I am ready to go. I often say, " Lord, now lettest thou thy sarvant depart in peace." Next birthday, if the Lord spares me to see it, I shall be ninety-five years old.' ' Well,' says I, ' Minister, you've seen great changes in your time, that's sartin ; haven't we grown cruel fast ? There ain't such a nation as our'n p'r'aps atween the poles, jist at this present^ time. We are a'most through to the Pacific, and spreadin' all over this great continent ; and our flag floats over every part of the world. Our free and enlightened people do present a'most a glorious spectacle, that's a fact.' Well, he sot still and said nothin' ; but takin' the pipe out of his mouth, he let go a great big long pufl* of smoke, and then replaced his pipe agin, and arter a space, says he, * W6ll, Sam, what of all that ? ' V/hy,' said I, * Minister, you remind me of Joab Hunter ; he whipped every one that darrt try him, both in Slickville and its ^//cinity ; and then he sot down and cried like a child, 'cause folks were afeerd of him, and none on 'em would fight him.' " * It's a law o' natur', Sam,' said he, * that things that grow too fast, and grow too big, go to decay soon ; I am afeerd we shall be rotten afore we are ripe. Precosity ain't a good sign in anything. A boy that outgrows his strength is seldom healthy : an old head on young shoulders is plaguy apt to find afore long the shoulders too old and weak for the head. I am too aged a man to be led away by names — too old a bird to be caught by chaff. Tinsel and glitter don't deceive me into a belief that they are solid, gtrwxwine metals. Our eagle that we chose for our emblem is a fine bird, and an aspirin' bird ; but he is a bird of prey, Sam, too fond of blood — too prone to pounce on the weak and unwary. I don't like to see him hoverin' over Texas and Canada so much. Our flag that you . talk of is a good flag ; but them stripes, are they prophetic or. accidental ? Are they the stripes of the slaves risin' up to humble our pride by exhibitin' our shame on our banner? Or what do they mean ? Freedom, what is it ? We boast of freedom ; tell ma what freedom is? Is it havin' no king and no nobles? Then we are sartinly free. But is that freedom? Is it in havin' no established religion ? Then we are free enough, gracious knows. Is it in havin' no hereditary government, or vigorous executive ? Then we are free, beyond all doubt. • " * Yes, we know what we are a-talkin' about ; we are wise in our generation, wiser than the children of light ; we are as free as the air of heaven. What that air is, p'r'aps they know who talk of it so flippantly and so glibly ; but it may not be so free to all comers as ■-'^,- l- THE CONFESSIONS OF A DEPOSED MINISTER 22$ our country is. But what is freedom ? My little grandson, little Sammy (I had him named arter you, Sam), told me yesterday I was behind the enlightenment of the age ; perhaps you, who are ahead of it, will answer me. What is freedom ? A colt is free, he is onrestrained ; he acknowledges no master, no law, but the law of natur'. A man may get his brains kicked out among wild horses^ but still they are free. Is our freedom like that of the wild horse or the wild ass ? If not, what is it ? Is it in the right of openly preaching infidelity ? Is it in a licentious press ? Is it in the outpourings of popular spirits ? Is it in the absence of al! sub- ordination, or the insufficiency of all legal or moral restraint ? I will define it. It is that happy condition of mankind where people are assembled in a community ; where there is no government, no law, and no religion, but such as are imposed from day to day by a mob of freemen. That is freedom? *• * Why, Minister,' said I, * what on airth ails you, to make you talk arter that fashion ? If you had a-bin drinkin' any of that 'are old cider, I do think I should have believed it had got into your brain, for it's pretty considerable stiff that, and tarnation heady. How can you go for to say we have no government, no law, and no religion, when it's ginerally allowed we are the most free and enlightened people on the face of the airth ? * 'I didn't say that^ Sam ; I was definin' freedom in its gineral acceptation. We have got a government somewhere, if folks could only find it. When they searched for it at Texas, they said it was to Canady lines ; and when they got to Canady lines to seek it, they say it is gone to the Seminole war ; and when they get there, they'll tell 'em they've been lookin' for it, but it hasn't arrived yet, and they wish to gracioub it would make haste and come, for it it wor there, three thousand Injians couldn't beat us three years runriin', and defy us yet. We've got law too ; and when the judges go on the circuit, the mob holds its courts, and keeps the peace. Whose commission does the mob hold ? The people's commission. And whose com- mission does the supreme judge hold ? The President's. Which is at the top of the pot then ? Can the judges punish the mob ? No ; but the mob can punish the judges. Which is the supreme court, then ? No ; we have law.' 'Yes,' said I, * and the prophets too ; for if you ain't a prophet of evil, it's a pity.' I fairly felt ryled, for if there is a thing that raises my dander, and puis my Ebenezer up, it is to hear a man say anything agin the glorious institutions of our great, splendid country. " ' There you go agin,' said he ; * you don't know what you are a-talkin' about ; a prophet used to be a person who foretold future events to come. What they be now in Webster's new dictionary, I don't know ; but I guess they now be those who foretell things arter they happen. I wam't a-prophesyin' — I was speakin' of things afore my eyes. Your ideas of prophets are about as clear as your ideas of freedom. Yes, we've got law, and written law too, P f. ;, i'H 'S^2 m •• Xi* '.jt;l 226 THE CLOCKMAKER as well as written constitutions (for we dispise that onwritten law, the common law of the ignorant British ; we dispise it as a relic of barbarism, of the age of darkness and fnble), and as soon as our cases that are tried afore the mob courts are collected and reported to some of our iminent mob orators, these state trials will have great authority. They'll be quoted by England with great respect I know ; for they've got orators of the same breed there too — the same gentle, mild, Christian-like philanthropists.' * Pity you hadn't a-sported that kind of doctrine,' says I, ' Minister, afore our glorious revolution. The British would have made a bishop of you, or a Canter of Berry, or whatever they call their Protestant pope. Yes, you might have had the canOn law, and the tithe law enforced with the baggonet law.' ' Abusin' the British don't help us, Sam. I am not their advocate, but the advocate for law, just and equal law, impartially administered, voluntarily obeyed, and, when mfringed, duly enforced. Yes, we have religion, too, from the strict good old platform, through every variety and shade of tinker, mormonite, and mountebank, down to the infidel — men who preach peace and goodwill, but who fight and hate each other like the devil. Idolatry like our'n you won't find even among the heathen. We are image worshippers : we have two images. There's the golden image, which all men worship here, and the American image.' * The American image ! ' said I ; 'do tell : what on airth is that ? I do believe in my heart. Minister, that you have taken leave of your senses. What onder the sun is the American image ? ' * An image of perfection, Sam,' said he ; * fine phrenological head, high forehead, noble countenance, intelligent face, limbs Herculean but well proportioned, graceful attitude, a figure of great elegance and beauty, the personification of every- thing that is great and good ; that is the American image ; that tve set up and admire, and everybody thinks it is an image of himself. Oh ! It is humiliatin', it is degradin' ; but we are all brought up to this idolatry from our cradle : we are taught first to worship gold, and then to idolise ourselves. " * Yes, we have a government, have a law, and have a religion ; and a precious government, law, and religion it is. I was once led to believe we had made a great discovery, and were tryin' a great experiment in the art of self-government, for the benefit of mankind, as well as ourselves. Oh, delusion of delusions 1 It had been tried before and signally failed, and tried on our own ground, too, and under our own eyes. We are copies and not originals ; base imitators.' When he got this far, I see'd how it was : he was delirious, poor old gentleman. The sight of me was too much for him ; his narves was excited, and he was a-ravin' ; his face was flushed, his eye glared, and looked quite wild like. It touched me to the heart, for I loved him like a father, and his intellects were of the first order afore old age, like a cloud, had overshadowed 'em. I thought I should have boohooed right out. So, instead of !* \ THE CONFESSIONS OF A DEPOSED MINISTER 22^ '^ contradictin' him, I humoured him. * Where was it tried, Minister ? * said I ; ' who had the honour afore us ? for let us give the credit where it is due.' 'The North American Indians,' said he, *had tried it afore in all its parts. They had no king, no nobles, no privileged class, no established religion. Their mobs made laws, Lynch law too, for they had burned people before the citizens at V Mobile was ever born, or was even thought on, and invaded also other folks' territory by stealth, and then kept possession. They, too, elected their presidents and other officers, and did all and everything we do. They, too, had their federal government of independent states, and their congress and solemn-lookin' boastin' orators. They, too, had their long knives as well as Arkansas folks have, and were as fond of blood. And where are they now ? Where is their great experiment ? their great spectacle of a people governin' themselves ? Gone ! where our own will go ; gone with the years that are fled, never to return 1 Oh, Sam, Sam 1 my heart is sick within me. Where now is our beautiful republic bequeathed to us by Washington, and the sages and heroes of the revolution ? Overwhelmed and destroyed by the mighty waters of democracy. Nothin' is now left but a dreary waste of angry waters, moved and excited by every wind that blows, and agitated by every conflictin' current, onsafe to navigate, fearful even to look upon.* " * This is too excitin' a subject,' said I, ' Minister, and admits of a great deal bein' said on both sides. It ain't worth our while to get warm on it. As for an established church,' said I, 'you know what a hubbub they make in England to get clear of that 'are. I don't think we need envy 'em, unless they'll establish our platform. If they did Z^^/*,' said I, and I looked up and winked, ' I don't know as I wouldn't vote for it myself.' ' Sam,' said he, ' we are a-goin' to have an established church ; it may be a %'ery good church, and is a great deal better than many we have ; but still it ain't the church of the Pilgrims.' *What church,' said I, 'Minister?' • Why,' said he, * the Catholic Church ; before long it will be the established church of the United States.' Poor old man ! only think of his getting such a freak as that 'are in his head ; it was melancholy to hear him talk such nonsense, wam't it ? * What makes you think so ?' said I. * Why,' said he, ' Sam, the majority here do everything. The majority voted at first against an establishment ; a majority may at last vote for it ; the voice of the majority is law. Now the Catholics are fast gainin' a numerical majority. Don't you believe census or other tables ? I know it, and I could easily correct the errors of the census. "'They gain constantly — they gain more by emigration, more by natural increase in proportion to their numbers, more by inter- marriages, adoption, and conversion, than the Protestants. With their exclusive views of salvation, and peculiar tenets, as soon as they have the majoiity this becomes a Catholic country, with a ■ .'1: - /n. 228 tHE CLOCKMAKfiR Catholic government, with* the Catholic religion established by law. Is :his a great change ? A greater change has taken place among the British, the Medes and Persians of Europe, the nolumus leges mutari people. What then will the nateral order and progress of events now in train here not produce ? I only speak of this, I don't dread it ; I hope, and trust, and pray that it may - be so ; not because I think them right, for I don't, but because they are a Christian church, an old church, a consistent church, and because it is a church, and any sect is bett£r than the sub- stitution of a cold speculative philosophy for religion, as we see too frequently among us. We are too greedy to be moral, too self- sufficient to be pious, and too independent to be religious. United under one head, and obedient to that head, with the countenance and aid of the whole Catholic world, what can they not achieve ? Yes, it is the only cure that time and a kind and merciful Providence has in store for us. We shall be a Catholic people. " ' Sam, my heart is broken 1 my last tie is severed, and I am now descendin' to the grave full of years and full of sorrers ! I have received my dismissal ; my elders have waited upon me with the appallin' information that they have given a call to a Unitarian, and have no further need of my sarvices. My labours, Sam, were not worth having — that's a fact : I am now old, grey-headed, and infirm, and worn out in the service of my Master. It was time for me to retire. Tempus abire tibi est. (I hope you haven't forgot what little Latin you had, Sam.) I don't blame them for the-t — • but a Unitarian in my pulpit 1 It has killed me — I cannot survive - it ; ' and he cried like a child. * I looked on 'em,' said he, ' as my children ; I loved 'em as my own, taught 'em their infant prayers — I led 'em to the altar of the Lord — I fed 'em with the bread of life, encouraged them when they was right, reproved 'em when they was wrong, and watched over 'em always. Where now is my flock ? and what £,ccount shall I give of the shepherd ? Oh, Sam, willin'ly would I offer up my life for 'em as a sacrifice ; but it . may not be. My poor flock, my dear children, my lost sheep, that I should have lived to have seen this day ! ' and he hid his face in his hands, and moaned bitterly. " Poor old gentleman, it had been too much for him ; it was evident that it had affected his head as well as his heart. And this I will say, that a better head and a better heart there ain't this day in the United States of America than Minister Joshua Hopewell's of Slickville." *' I am glad to hear you speak so affec- tionately of him," said I. "It shows there are good and warm hearts m Slickville besides his ; but do you really think he was delirious ? " " No doubt in the world on it," said he. *' If you had a-seen him and heerd him, you would have felt that his troubles had swompified him. It was gone goose with him, that's a fact." " That he spoke under the influence of excited feelings," I replied, *'and with a heart filled with grief and indignation, there can be "% . i ^- CANADIAN POLITICS 229 ^m no doubt ; but I see no evidence of delirium ; on the contrary, his remarks strike me as most eloquent and original. They have made a great impression upon me, and I shall long remember the confessions of a deposed minister.^^ 4 > CHAPTER XVI L CANADIAN POLITICS The next day we reached Clare, a township wholly settled by descendants of the Acadian French. The moment you pass the bridge at Scissiboo, you become sensible that you are in a foreign country. And here I must enter my protest against that American custom of changing the old and appropriate names of places for the new and inappropriate ones of Europe. Scissiboo is the Indian name of this long and beautiful river, and signifies the great deep, and should have been retained, not merely because it was its proper name, but on account of its antiquity, its legends, and, above all, because the river had a name, which the minor streams of the province have not. A country, in my opinion, is robbed of half its charms when its streams, like those of Nova Scotia, have no other names than those of the proprietors of the lands through which they pass, and change them as often as the soil changes owners. Scissiboo sounded too savage and uncouth in the ears of the inhabitants, and they changed it to Weymouth, but they must excuse me for adopting the old reading. I am no democrat ; I like old names and the traditions belong- ing to them. I am no friend to novelties. There has been a reaction in Upper Canada. The movement party in that colony, with great form and ceremony, conferred the name of Little York upon the capital of the colony; but the Conservatives have adopted the ancient order of things, and with equal taste and good feeliog have restored the name of Toronto. I hope to see the sane restoration at Scissiboo, at Tatamagouche, and other places where the spoiler has been. : i ^ ^ ^ • There is something very interesting in these Acadians. They are the Hneal descendants of those who made the first effective settlement in North America, in 1606, under De Monts, and have retained to this day the dress, customs, language, and religion of their ancestors. They are a peaceable, contented, and happy people ; and have escaped the temptations of English agitators, French atheists, and domestic demagogues. " I have often been amazed," said the Clockmaker, " when travelling among the Canadians, to see what curious critters they be. They leave the marketin' to the women, and the business to their notaries, the care of their souls to their priests, and of their -!■ m 'JdttfS «30 THE CLOCKMAKER bodies to the doctors, and resarve only frolickin', dancin', singin', fiddlin', and gasconadin', to themselves. They are as merry as crickets, and happy as the day is long. They don't care a straw how the world jogs, who's up or who's down, who reigns or who is deposed. Ask 'em who is king, and they believe Papinor is ; who is pope, and they believe their bishop is ; who is the best off in the world, and they believe Mountsheer Chatter-box Habitan is." *' How is it then," said I, "they are just on the eve of a rebellion ? If they are so contented and happy as you represent them, what can induce them to involve the country in all the horrors of a civil war ; and voluntarily incur the penalties o! treason, and the miseries of a revolution ? " " Because," said he, " they are jist what I have described them to be — because they don't know nothin'. They are as weak as Taunton water, and all the world knows that that won't even run down hill. They won't do nothin' but jist as they are bid. Their notaries and doctors tell 'em them sacra diabola foutera English are agoin', by-and-by, to ship 'em out o' the country ; and in the meantime rob 'em, plunder 'em, and tax 'em ; hang their priests, seize their gals, and play hell and Tommy with them, and aJl because they speak French. ' Hay beang,' says Habitan, * up and at them, then, and let 'em have it 1 But how can we manage all them redcoats?' 'Oh 1' says their leaders, * old France will send a fleet and sodgers, and Yankees will send an army. Yankees very fond of us, all larnin' French a-purpose ; very fond of Catholics too, all thro' New England ; great friend of our'n — hate English like the diable.' * Allong dong, then,' they say ; * up and cut their throats I and when winter comes, burn 'em up, hang 'em up, use 'em up ! One grand French nation we shall have here then ; all French, and no sacra English.' " " But do they really talk such nonsense to them as that, or are they such fools to believe it ? " " Fact, I assure ; they are so ignorant they believe it all, and will believe anything they tell 'em. It is a comfortable ignorance they are in too, for they are actilly the happiest critters on the face of the airth ; but then it is a dangerous ignorance, for it is so easily imposed upon." " I had been always led to believe," I said, " that it was a great constitu- tional question that was at stake ; the right to stop the supplies ; and from hearing there were so many speculative and theoretical points of dispute between them and the English as to the machinery of the local government, I thought they were at least an enlightened people, and one that, feeling they had rights, were determined to maintain those rights at all hazards." "Oh, dear," said the Clockmaker, "where have you been all your born days, not to know better nor that? They don't know nothin' about the matter, nor don't want to. Even them that talk about those things in the Assembly don't know much more ; but they jist know enough to ax for what they know they can't get, then call it a grievance, ' ':>:.-'■' O "» ■.." .'ver it I * Five Americanes 1 ' " ' I hope you have good dogs,' said I, 'for your bull-bait ? ' ' Oh, Irue breed and no mistake,' said he. ' It takes a considerable of I stiff dog,' says I, 'and one of the raal grit, to face a bull. Them fellers, when they get their danders up, are plaguy onsafe critters ; they'll toss and gore the common kind like nothin' — make all fly agin ; it ain't oversafe to come too near 'em when they are once fairly raised. If there is anythin' in natur* I'm afeerd on, it's a bull when he is ryled.' 'Oh, yes,' said he, 'we got the dogs, plenty of 'em too, genu/wi^ breed from old France, kept pure ever since it came here, except a slight touch of the fox and the wolf : the one makes 'em run faster, and t'other bite sharper. It's a grand breed.' Thinks I to myself, ' I onderstand you, my hearties. I see your drift ; go the whole figur', and do the thing genteel. Try your hand at it, will you ; and if John Bull don't send jrou a-flyin' into the air sky-high, in little less than half no time, it's a pity. A pretty set o' yelpin' curs you be to face such a critter as he is, ain't you ? Why, the very moment he begins to paw and to roar, you'll run sneakin' off with your tails atween your legs, a-yelpin' and a-squeelin' as if Old Nick himself was arter you.' " ' Great man, your Washington,' says the doctor. * Very,' says I ; ' no greater ever lived, p'raps the world never sce'd his ditto.' 'And Papinor is a great man, too,' said he. 'Very,' said I, * especially in the talking line ; he'd beat Washin'ton at that game, I guess, by a long chalk.' ' I hope,' says he, ' some day or another, Mr. Slick, and not far off neither, we shall be a free and independent people, like you. We shall be the France of America afore lon^ — the grand nation— the great empire. It's our destiny, everythmg foretells it ; I can see it as plain as can be.' Thinks I to myself, ' This is a good time to broach our interests ; and if there is to be a break-up here, to put in a spoke in the wheel for our folks — a stitch in time saves nme.' So says I, 'You needn't flatter yourselves, doctor ; you can't be a distinct nation ; it ain't possible in the natur* o' things. You may jine us, if you like, and there would be some sense in that move— that's a fact ; but you never can stand alone here, no more than a lame man can without crutches, or a child of six days old. No, not if all the colonies were to unite, you couldn't do it. Why,' says I, 'jist see here, doctor; you couldn't show your noses on the fishin' ground for one minit ; you can hardly do It now, even tho' the British have you onder their wing. Our folks ^ould drive you off the banks, seize your fish, tear your nets, and lick you like a sack ; and then go home and swear you attacked * amitU = friendship. m ■M 234 THE CLOCKMAKER them first, and our Government would seize the fisheries as an indemnification. How could you support an army, and a navy, and a diplomacy, and make fortifications? Why, you couldn't build and support one frigate, nor maintain one regiment, nor garrison Quebec itself, let alone the outposts. Our folks would navigate the St. Lawrence in spite of your teeth, and the St. John River too, and how could you help yourselves ? They'd smuggle you out of your eye-teeth, and swear you never had any. Our fur traders would attack your fur traders, and drive 'em all in. Our people would enter here and settle — then kick up a row, call for American volunteers, declare themselves independent, and ask admission into the Union ; and afore you knowed where you were, you'd find yourselves one of our states. Jist look at what is goin* on in Texas, and what has gone on in Florida, and then see what will go on here. We shall own clean away up to the North and South Pole afore we're done.' "Says the doctor in French to the other chaps, 'That would be worse than bein' a colony to the English. Them Yankee villains would break up our laws, language, and customs ; that cat wouldn't jump at all, would it?' ''Jamais^ Jamais V says the company. ' We must have aid from old France ; we must be the grand nation, and the great empire, ourselves ; ' and he stopt, went to the door, onbolted it, looked round the shop, and then turned the bolt agin. * Would your folks,' says he, * help us, if we was to revolt, Mr. Slick ?* * Certainly,' said I, 'they'd help you all they could, and not go to war with the British. They'd leave all the armouries on the line onguarded, so you could run over and pretend to rob 'em, and leave all the cannon in the forts without anybody to see arter them, so you might have them if you wanted them. Lots o' chaps would volunteer in your ranks, and our citizens would subscribe hansum'. They'd set up a claim pretty fierce, at the same time, about the New Brunswick boundary line, so as to make a devarsion in youT favour in that quarter. We can't go to war jist now ; it would ruin us, stock and fluke. We should lose our trade and shippin', and our niggers and Indgians are ugly customers, and would take a whole army to watch them in case of a war. We'd do all we could to help you as a peopUy but not as a government. We'd furnish you with arms, ammunition, provision, money, and volunteers. We'd let you into our country, but not the British. We'd help you to arrange your plans and to ^(?range their'n. But we'd have to respect our treaties, for we are a higli minded, right- minded, sound-minded and religious people. We scrupulously fulfil our engagements. What we undertake we perform — there's no mistake in us ; you always know where to find us. We are onder great obligations to the British ; they saved us from the expense and miseries of a war with France— they have built us up with their capital and their credit, and are our best customers. We could not, consistently with our treaties or our conscience, »4^ ^» CANADIAN POLITICS 235 ■ii «end an army or a navy to help you ; but we will hire you or lend you our steam-boats, and other craft ; send you men to make an army, and the stuff to feed, clothe, arm, and pay them. In short, the nations of the airth will look on with admiration at the Justice and integrity of our doings. We shall respect the treaty with the British on the one side, and prove ourselves a kind, a liberal, and most obliging neighbour to you on the other. Government will issue proclamations against interference. The press of the country will encourage it. The nation will be neutral, but every soul in it will aid you. Yes, we are as straight as a shingle in our dealin's, and do things above-board handsum'. We do love a fair deal above all things, that's a fact.' ' Bon, don,' says they, * Les artsto- crates i la lanteme' and they broke out a-singin', ' i la lanteme' " It was now twelve o'clock at nij,'ht when we quit, and jist as we got into the street I heerd the word ' Doric, Doric ;' and says I, * What on airth is that ? what sort o* a critter is a Doric ? ' 'A Doric is a loyalist,* says they — 'a diable bull — sacrd foutre — kill him,' — and they arter him, full split like the wind, caught him, knocked him down, and most finished him ; they e'en a'most beat him to a jelly, and left him for dead. ' That's the way,' says they, * we'll sarve every Englishman in Canada — extarminate *em, damn *em.' ' Time for me to be off,' says I, ' a'most, I'm a-thinkin' ; it's considerable well on towards mornin'. Good-night, Mountsheer.' * Bon swore, bon swore / ' says they, a singin' — • Oh ? 9a ira, 5a ira, ga ira, Les aristocrates & la lanterne.' And the last I heerd of them, at the end of the street, was an everlastin' almighty shout, ' Five Papinor — five Papinor I ' "Yes, I pity them poor Canadians," said the Clockmaker. " They are a loyal, contented, happy people, if them sarpents o! doctors and lawyers would leave 'em alone, and let 'em be, and not pyson their minds with all sorts of lies and locrums about their government. They will spunk 'em up to rebellion at last, and when it does come to the scratch, they will desart 'em as sure as c^gs is eggs, and leave 'em to be shot down by the sodgers : they am't able of themselves to do nothin', them Canadians ; they ain't got the means nor the energy nor the knowledge for it ; they ain't like the descendants of the Pilgrims, that's a fact. The worst of it is, too, the punishment won't fall on the right heads neither, for them critters will cut and run to a sartainty ; I know it, I'm e'en a'most sure of it ; if they'd a' had the true blue in 'em, they wouldn't have half murdered and maimed that poor defenceless Doric, as they did. None but cowards do 'em 'are things ; a brave man fights — a coward sticks a bowie knife into your ribs ; but p'raps it will all turn out for the best yet in the eend," said he ; " for if there is a blow up, Papinor will off to the States full chisel with the other leaders— the first shot, and them that they don't catch and I fti, I i' m 1 2$6 THE CLOCKMAKER hang can never show their faces in Canada agin. It will clear the country of them, as they clear a house of rats ; frighten 'em out of their seven senses by firin' off a g'un. "A thunderstorm,, Squire,'* said the Clockmaker, ^* most always cools the lu'r, clears the sky^ lays the dusty and makes all look about right agin. •• Everything will depend on how the English work it arter- wards ; if they blunder agin, they'll never be able to set it to rights." *' What course ought they to t dopt ? " said I, •* for the subject is one in which I feel great interei.t." " I'll tell you," said he. " First, they should — " and he suddenly checked himself, as if doubtful of the propriety of answering the question ; and then smiling, as if he had discovered a mode of escaping the difficulty, he continued — " They should make you plenipo, and appoint me your secretary." CHAPTER XVII A CURE FOR SMUGGLING "Wherever natur' does least, man does most" said the Clock- maker. " Jist see the difference at ween these folks here to Liverpool and them up the bay of Fundy. There natur' has given ihem the finest country in the world — she has taken away all the soil from this place, and chucked it out there, and left nothin' but rocks and stones here. There they jist vej^etate, but here they go ahead like anything. I was credibly informed, when Liverpool was first settled, folks had to carry little light ladders on their shoulders to climb over the rocks, and now they've got better streets, better houses, better gardens, and a better town than any of the baymen. Ihey carry on a considerable of a fishery here, and do a great stroke in the timber business. " I shall never forget a talk I had with Ichabod Gates here, and a frolic him and me had with the tide-waiter. Ichabod had a large store o* goods, and I was in there one evenin' a-drinkin' tea along with him, and we got a-talkin' about smugglin'. Says he, * Mr. Slick, your people ruin the trade here, they do smuggle so ; I don't know as I ever shall be able to get rid of my stock of goods, and it cost me a considerable of a sum too. What a {)ity it is them navy people, instead of carryin' freights of money irom the West Indgies, warn't employed more a-protectin' of our fisheries and our trade.' ' Why don't you smuggle then, too,' says I, 'and meet 'em in their own way? — tit for tat — diamond cut diamond — smuggle yourselves and seize them; — free trade and sailor's rights is our maxim.' * Why,' says he, ' I ain't jist altogether certified that it's right ; it goes agin my conscience to A CURE FOR SMUGGLING 237 ,y"» do the like o' that 'are, and I must say I like a fair deal. In a gineral way a'most, I've observed what's got over the devil's back IS commonlv lost onder his belly. It don't seem to wear well.' * Well, that s onconvenrent too, to be so thin-skinned,' said I ; *for conscience most commonly uas a hide as thick as the sole of one's foot ; you may cover it with leather to make it look decent-like, but it will b<:ar a considerable hard scrulibin' without anythin' over it. Now^' says I, ' I will put you on a track that will sarve you without hringin' corns on your conscience either. Do you jist pretend to smuggle and make believe as if you were agoin' the whole hog in it. It's safer and full out as profitable as the raal thing, and, besides, there's no sort o' risk in it in the world. When folks hear a thing is smuggled they always think it's cheap, and never look into the price ; they bite directly — it's a grand bait that. Now always onload your vessels at night, and let folks hear a cart agoin' into your place atween two and three o'clock in the mornin' ; fix one o' the axles so it will squeak like a pig, and do you look suspicious, mysterious, and oneasv. Says you (when a chap say?, I guess you were up late last night), ax me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. There are so many pinipin' eyes about now, a body has to be cautious if he don't want to get into the centre of a hobble. If I'm up late, I guess it's nobody's business but my own I'm about, anyhow ; but I hope you won't make no remarks about what you see'd or heerd. " * Well, when a feller axes arter a thing, do vou jist stand and look at him for a space without sayin' a word, inquirin' like, with a dubersum' look, as if you didn't know as you could trust him or no ; then jist wink, put your finger on your nose, and say mum is the word. Take a candle and light it, and say, foller me now, and take him into the cellar. Now, says you, friend, don't betray me, I beseech you, for your Hfe ; don't let on to anyone about this place ; people will never think o' suspectin' me, if you only keep dark about it. I'll let you see some things, says you, that will please you, I know ; but don't blow me — that's a good soul. This article, says you, a-takin' up one that cost three pounds, I can afford to let you have as low as five pounds, and that one as cheap as six pounds, on one condition — but, mind you, it'-'s on them tarms only — and that is, that you don't tell anyone, not even your wife, where you got it ; but you must .promise me on the word and honour of a man. The critter will fall right ic?tc the trap, and swear by all that's good he'll never breathe it to a livin' soul, and then go right off and tell his wife ; and you might as well pour a thing into a filterin' stone as into a woman's ear. It will run right thro', and she'll go a-braggin' to her neighbours of the bargain they got, and swear them to secrecy, and they'll tell the whole country in the same way, as a secret, of the cheap things Ichabod Gates has. Well, the excise folks will soon hear o' this, and come and sarch your house from top to bottom, and the sarch will make your M 'ij i ^ I' 238 tHE CLOCKMAKER fortin' ; for, as they can't find nothin', you will get the credit of doin' the officers in great style.' "'Well, well,' said Ichabod, 'if you Yankees don't beat all natur'. I don't believe on my soul there's a critter in all Nova Scotia would 'a thought o' such a scheme as that ; but it's a grand joke, and comports with conscience, for it paralls pretty close with the truth : I'll try it.' ' Try it,' says I, ' to be sure ; let's go right ofFthis blessed night and hide away a parcel of your goods in the cellar — put some in the garrat and some in the gig-house. Begin and sell to-morrow, and all the time I'm in Liverpool I'll keep a-runnin' in and out o' your house ; sometimes I'll jist come to the corner of the fence, put my head over and draw it back agin, as if I didn't want folks to see me, and sometimes I'll make as if I was a-goin' out, and if I see anyone a-com in' I'll spring back and hide behind the door : it will set the whole town on the look- out — and they'll say it's me that's a-smugglin' either on my own hook or youPn.' In three days he had a great run o' custom particularly arter nightfall. It was fun alive to see how the critters were bammed by that hoax. " On the fifth day the tide-waiter came. * Mr. Slick,' says he, * I've information th — ' 'Glad to hear it,' says I ; ' an officer without information would be a poor tool — that's a fact.' Well, it brought him up all a-standin'. Says he, ' Do you know who you are a-talkin' to ? ' * Yes,' says I, * I guess I do ; I'm talkin' to a man of informatior, and that bein'the case, I'll be so bold as to ax you one question — have you anything to say to me, for I'm in a considerable of a hurry ?' ' Yes,' said he, * I have. I'm informed you have smuggled goods in the house.* 'Well, then,* says I, 'you can say what many gals can't boast on, at any rate.* * What's that .-* ' says he. ' Why,' says I, ' that you are /«min formed.* '"Mr. Gates,' said he, 'give me a candle — I must go to the cellar.* 'Sartainly, sir,' said Ichabod, 'you may sarch where you please. I've never smuggled yet, and I am not a-goin' now to commence at my time of life.' As soon as he got the candle, and was a-goin' down to the cellar with Gates, I called out to Ichabod. 'Here,' says I, ' Ich, run quick, for your life — now's your time ; ' and off we ran upstairs as hard as we could leg it, and locked the door ; the sarcher heerin' that, up too and arter us hot foot, and bust open it. As soon as we heerd him a-doin' of that, we out o' the other door and locked that also, and down the back stairs to where we started from. It was some time afore he broke in the second door, and then he follered us down, lookin' like a proper fool. ' I'll pay you up for this,* said he to me. 'I hope so,' said I, 'and Ichabod too. A pretty time o' day this, when folks can tare and race over a decent man's house, and smash all afore him this way for nothin', ain't it ? Them doors you broke all to pieces will come to sunthin', you may depend ; a joke is a joke, but that's no joke.' Arter that he took -. ,^ A CURE FOR SMUGGLING ^39 his time, searched garrat, and found the cellar, upper nothin' to seize ; amazin' vexed and put out. Says I catch a weasel, you must catch him rooms, lower rooms, and he was all cut up, and ; • Friend, if you want to asleep ; now, if you want to catch me a-smugglin', rise considerably airly in the momm', will you?* This story made Ichabod's fortin' a'most ; he had smuggled goods to sell for three years, and yet no one could find him in the act, or tell where onder the sun he had hid 'em away to. At last the secret leaked out, and it fairly broke up smugglin' on the whole shore. That story has done more nor twenty officers — that's a fact. "There's nothin' a'most," said the Clockmaker, "I like so much as to see folks cheat themselves. I don't know as I ever cheated a man myself in my life. I like to do things above board handsum', and go straight ahead ; but if a chap seems bent on cheatin' himself, I like to be neighbourly, and help him to do it. I mind once, when I was to the eastward of Halifax a-tradin', I bought a young horse to use while I gave Old Clay a run to grass. I do that most every fall, and it does the old critter a deal of good. He kinder seems to take a new lease every time, it sets him up so. Well, he was a most aspecial horse, but he had an infarnpl temper, and it required all my knowledge of horse-flesh *;o manage him. He'd kick, sulk, back, bite, refuse to draw, or run away, jist as he took the notion. I mastered him, but it was jist as much as a bargain too ; and I don't believe, tho' ! say it myself, there is any other gentleman in the province could have managed him but me. Well, there was a parson livin' down there that took a great fancy to that horse. Whenever he see'd me a-drivin' by, he always stopt to look at his action and gait, and admired him amazin'ly. Thinks I to myself, 'That man is inokilated— it'll break out soon — he is detarmined to cheat himself, and if he is, there is no help for it, as I see, but to let him.' One day I was a-drivin' out at a'most a deuce of a size, and he stopped me. * Hallo ! ' says he, ' Mr. Slick, where are you a-goin' m such a desperate huny? I want to speak a word to you.' So I pulls up short. * Mornin',' says I, 'Parson, how do you do to-day?' •That's a very clever horse of your'n,' says he. 'Middlin,' says 1 ; ' he does my work, but he's nothin' to brag on. He ain't jist equal to Old Clay, and I doubt if there's 'arc a blue-nose horse that is either.' ' Fine action that horse,' said he. ' Well,' says I, 'people do say he has considerable fine action, but that's better for himself than me, for it makes him travel easier.' " ' How many miles will he trot in the hour ? ' said he. ' Well,* says I, 'if he has a mind to, and is well managed, he can do fifteen handsum'.' • Will you sell him ? ' said he. ' Well,' says I, • Parson, I would sell him, but not to you. The truth is,' said I, smilin', ' I have a great regard for ministers ; the best friend I t\i fv \ A ^40 THE CLOCKMAKER I ever had was one, the Reverend Joshua Hopewell, of Slickville, and I wouldn't sell a horse to one I didn't tliink would suit him.' * Oh ! ' said he, * the horse would suit me exactly ; I like him amazin'ly. What's your price ? ' * Fifty pounds to anybody else,' said I, *but fifty-five to you. Parson ; for I don't want you to have him at no price. If he didn't suit you, people would say I cheated you, and cheatin' a parson is, in my mind, pretty much of piece with robbin' of a church. Folks would think considerable hard of me for to go for to sell you a horse that worn't quite the thing, and I shouldn't blame them one mite or morsel if they did.' 'Why, what's the matter of him?' said he. 'Well,' says I, * Minister,' says I, a-larfin' right out, 'everything is the matter o! him.' *0h !' says he, 'that's all nonsense: I've seen the horse in your hands often, and desire no better.' 'Well,' says I, 'he will run away with you, if he gets a chance, to a certainty.' ' I will drive him with a curb,' said he. 'He will kick,' says I. 'I'll put a back strap on him,' said he. * He will go backwards faster than forward,' said I. ' I will give him the whip and teach him better,' says he. ' Well,' says I, a-larfin' like anything, ' he won't go at all sometimes.' ' I'll take my chance of that,' said he ; ' but you must take off that five pounds.' * Well,' says I, ' Parson, I don't want to sell you the horse — that's a fact ; but if you must have him, I suppose yoU must, and I will substract the five pounds on one condition, and that is, if you don't like the oeast, you tell folks that you would have him, tho' I tried to set him out as bad as I could, and said everythin' of him I could lay my tongue to.' ' Well,' says he, ' the horse is mine, and if he don't suit me, I acquit you of all blame.' " Well, he took the horse, and cracked and boasted most prodigiously of him ; he said he wouldn't like to take a hundred pounds for him ; that he liked to buy a horse of a Yankee, for they were such capital judges of horse-flesh they hardly ever a'most had a bad one, and that he knew he was a-goin' to get a first-chop one the moftient he found I didn't want to sell him, and that he never saw a rjian so loath to part with a beast. Oh dear 1 how I larfed in my sleeve when I heard tell of the goney talkin' such nonsense ; thinks I, he'll live to lam yet some things that ain't writ down in Latin afore he dies, or I'm mistakened — that's all. In the course of a few days the horse began to find he'd changed hands, and he thought he'd try what sort o' stuff his new master was made on ; so he jist took the bit in his mouth one fine mornin*, and ran off with him, and kicked his gig all to flinders, and nearly broke the parson's neck ; and findin' that answer, he took to all his old tricks agin, and got worse than ever. He couldn't do nothin' with him — even the helps were frightened out of their lives to go into the stable to him, he skeered them so. " So he come to me one day lookin' quite streaked, and says he, ' Mr. Slick, that horse I bought of you is a perfect devil ; I A CURE FOR SMUGGLING 241 ne rs, he n't eir never saw such a critter in my life ; I can neither ride him nor drive him. He jist does what he pleases with us, and we can't help ourselves nohow. He actilly beats all the unruly animals I ever see'd in my life.' ' Well,' says I, ' I told you so, Minister — I didn't want to sell him to you at all ; but you would have him.' * I know you did,' said he ; * but you larfed so all the time, I thought you were in jeest, I thought you didn't care to sell him, and jist said so to put me o^T, jokin' like ; I had no idee you were in airnest. I wouldn't givt ten pounds for him.' ' Nor I either,* said I ; * I wouldn't take him as a gift, and be bound to keep him/ * How could you then,' said he, ' have the conscience to ax me fifty pounds for him, and pocket it so coolly?* *To prevent you from buying him, Parson,' said I, ' that was my reason. I did all I could for you. I axed you five times as much as he was worth, and said all I could think on to run him down too ; but you took yourself in.* * There's two ways of tellin' a thing,' said he, * Mr. Slick — in airnest and in jeest. You told it as if you were in jeest, and I took it so ; you may call it what you like, but I call it a deception still.' ' Parson,' says I, ' how many ways you may have of tellin' a thing I don't know, but I have only one, and that's the true way. I told you the truth, but you didn t choose to believe it. Now,' says I, * I feel kinder sorry for you too ; but I'll tell you how to get out of the scrape. I can't take him back, or folks would say it was me and not you that cheated yourself. Do you ship him. You can't sell him here without doin' the fair thing, as I did, tellin' all his faults ; and if you do, no soul would take him as a present, for people will believe you, tho' it seems they won't always believe a clockmaker. Jist send him off to the West Indgies, and sell him at auction there for what he will fetch. He'll bring a good price ; and if he gets into a raal rightdown genu«//«^ horseman's hands, there is no better horse.' He said nothin', but shook his head, as if that cat wouldn't jump. ** ' Now,* says I, * there's another piece of advice I'll give you free gratis for T\ox\\m! —never buy a horse on the dealer's judgment^ or he will cheat you if he can; never buy him on your own^ or you will cheat yourself as sure as you are bom? ' In that case,* said he, larfin', ' a man will be sure to be cheated either way ; how is he to guard agin bein' taken in, then ? ' ' Well,' says I, ' he stands a fair chance, anyway, of havin' the Icake put into him — that's sartin, for next to womankind there is nothin* so deceitful as horse- flesh that ever I see'd yet. Both on 'eni are apt to be spoiled in the breakin* ; both on 'em puzzle tlie best judges sometimes to tell their age when well vamped up, and it takes some time afore you find out all their tricks. Pedigree must be attended to in both cases, particularly on the mother's side, and both require good trainin', a steady hand, and careful usage. Yes ; both branches require great experience, and the most knowin' ones do get bit sometimes most beautiful' ' Well,' says he, * as touching horses, '.' 'Ma \m -( V At m 242 THE CLOCKMAKER how is a man to avoid bein' deceived ? ' * Well,' says I, * I'll tell you— never buy a horse of a total stranger on no account— never buy a horse of a gentleman, for — ' ' Why,' said he, *he's the very man I should like to buy of, above all others.' * Well, then,' says I, * he's not the man for my money, anyhow 1 you think you are safe with him, and don't inquire enough, and take too much for granted. You are apt to cheat yourself in that case. Never buy a crack horse ; he's done too much. Never buy a colt ; he's done too little ; you can't tell how he'll turn out. In short,' says I, * it's a considerable of a long story to go all through with it ; it would take me less time to teach you how to make a clock, I calculate. If you buy from a man who ain't a dealer, he actilly don't know whether his horse is a good one or not ; you must get advice from a friend who does know. If you buy from a dealer, he is too much for you or your friend either. If he has no honour, don't trade with him. If he has, put yourself wholly and entirely on it, and he'll not deceive you, there's no mistake — he'll do the thing genteel. If you'd a' axed me candidly now about that 'are horse,' says I, ' I'd — ' At that he looked up to me quite hard for a space, without sayin' a word, but pressed his lips together quite miffy like, as if he was strivin' for to keep old Adam down, and turned short off, and walked away. I felt kinder pity for him too ; but if a man is so infarnal wise, he thinks he knows better nor you, and will cheat himself in spite of all you can do, why there is no help for it, as I see, but to let him. Do you, Squire?'' CHAPTER XVIII TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES " There are few countries in the world, Squire," said the Clock- maker, "got such fine water-powers as these provinces ; but the folks don't make no use of 'ern, tho' the materials for factories are spread about in abundance everywhere. Perhaps the whole world might be stumped to produce such a factory stand as Niagara Fall ; what a nation sight of machinery that would carry, wouldn't it? — supply all Barmin'ham a'most. *'The first time I returned from there. Minister said, 'Sam,' said he, 'you have seen the Falls of Niagara?' 'Yes, sir,' said I, 'I guess I have.' 'Well,' said he, ' ain't it a most grand sight that?' * I guess it is a scite^ says I, ' and it would be a grand speck to get up a jint stock company ifor factory purposes, for such another place for mills ain't to be found atween the poles. Oh dear I ' said 1, 'only think of the cardin' mills, fullin' mills, cotton mills, grain mills, saw mills, plaster mills, and gracious knows what sort o' mills might be put up there, and never fail for water ; any fall you TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES 243 like, and any power you want, and yet them ^oneys the Britis all run away to waste. It's a dreadful pity, ain't it?' 'Oh, S ish let Sam!' said he, and he jumped as if he was bit by a sarpent, right up on eend, 'now don't talk so profane, my sakes ! — don't talk so sacrilegious. How that dreadful thirst o' gain has absorbed all other feelin's in our people, when such an idea could be entertained for a moment ! It's a grand spectacle ; it's the voice o' Nature in the wilderness, proclaimin' to the untutored tribes thereof the power and majesty and glory of God. It is consecrated by the visible impress of the great invisible Architect. It is sacred ground — a temple not made by hands. It cannot be viewed without fear and tremblin', nor contemplated without wonder and awe. It proclaims to man, as to Moses of old, " Draw not nigh hither, put ofif thy shoes from thy feet, for the place where thou standest is holy ground." He who appeared in a flame of fire in the bush, and the bush was not consumed, appears also in the rush of water, and the water diminishes not. Talk not to me of mills, factories, and machinery, sir, nor of introducin' the money-changers into the temple of the Lord. Talk not—' 'You needn't go,' said I, 'Minister, for to work yourself up that way agin me, I do assure you, for I didn't mean to say nothin' out o' the way at all ; so come now. And now you do mention it,' says I, * it does seem kinder grand-like — that 'are great big lake does seem like an everlastin' large milk-pan with a lip for pourin' at the falls, and when it does fall head over heels, all white froth and spray like Phoebe's syllabub, it does look grand, no doubt, and it's nateral for a minister to think on it as you do ; but still, for all that, for them that ain't preachers, I defy most any man to see it, without thinkin' of a cotton mill.' " ' Well, well,' said he, a-wavin' of his hand ; * say no more about it,' and he walked into his study and shot to the door. He warn't like other men, minister. He was full of crotchets that way, and the sight of the sea, a great storm, a starry sky, or even a mere flower, would make him fly right off at the handle that way when you warn't a-thinkin' on it at all ; and yet for all that he was the most cheerfhl critter I ever see'd, and nothin' a'most pleased him so much as to see young folks enjoyin' themselves as merry as crickets. He used to say that youth, innocence, and cheerfulness was what was meant by the three graces. It was a curious kink, too, he took about them falls, warn't it? for, arter all, atween you and me, it's nothin' but a river takin' a lick over a cliff full split, instead of runnin' downhill the old way— I never hear tell of 'cm I don't think of that tantrum of his'n. "Our factories in New England are one of the best fruits ol the last war. Squire," said he; "they are actilly worth seein'. I know I have reason to speak well of 'em, anyhow, for it was them gave me my first start in life, and a pleasant start it was, too, as well as a profitable one. I spent upwards of a year there 1 i/i }•: ■ .ii "■ ■>'..»" / 244 THE CLOCKMAKER among the gals, a-lakin' of them off in the portrait line, and in that time I cleared three hundred pounds of your money good ; it warn't so bad that, was it ? " When I was down to Rhode Island, larnin' bronzin'. gildin', and sketchin' for the clock business, I worked at odd tim« "or the Honourable Eli Wad, a foundationalist— a-paintin' for him." " A foundationalist," said I; "what is that? — is it a religious sect ? " ** No," said he ; " it's a bottom-maker. He only made bottoms, he didn't make arms and legs, and he sold these wooden bottoms to the chair-makers. He dui 'em by a sarcular saw and a tumin' lathe, and he turned off amazin'' quick ; he made a fortin' out of the invention, for he shipped 'em to every part of the Union. The select men objected to his siijn of bottom-maker ; they said it didn't sound pretty, and he altered it to foundationalist. That was one cause the speck turned out so well, for everyone that see'd it a'most stopt to inquire what it meant, and it brou<,'ht his patent into great vogue ; many's the larf folks had over that sign, I tell you " So said he, when I had done, ' Slick,' said he, * you've a con- siderable of a knack with the brush ; it would be a grand speck for you to go to Lowell and take off the factory ladies ; you know what the women are — most all on 'em will want to have their likeness taken. The whole art of portrait-paintin',' says he, 'as far as my observation goes, lies in a free sketcht of the leadin' featur'. Give it good measure : do you take ? ' ' No,' says I, ' I don't onder- stand one word of it.' ' Well,* says he, ' what I mean is this : see what the leadin' featur* is, and exaggerate that, and you have a strikin' likeness. If the nose is large, jist make it a little more so ; if there is a slight cast o' the eye, give it a squint ; a strong line in the face, deepen it ; a big mouth, enlarge it ; a set smile, make it a smirk ; a high cheek-bone, square it out well. Reciprocate this by paintin' the rest o' the face a little handsumer, and you have it complete ; you'll never fail — there's no mistake Dead colourin', with lots of varnish, will do for that market, and six dollars a-piece for the pictures is about the fair deal for the price. If you don't succeed, I will give my head for a football. You'll hear 'em all say, " Oh I that's her nose to a hair — that's her eye exactly ; you could tell that mouth anywhere, that smile you could swear to as far as you can see it — it's a'most a beautiful likeness. She's taken off complete — it's as nateral as life." You could do one at a sittin', or six a week, as easy as kiss my hand, and I'm a-thinkin' you'd find it answer a good eend, and put you in funds for a start in the clock line. " ' But, Sam,' says he, a-puttin' of his hand on my shoulder, and lookin' me strong in the face, * mind your eye, my boy ; mind you don't get tangled in the deep sea-grass, so you can't <:lear hand or foot. There are some plaguy pretty gals there, and some on 'em have saved a considerable round sum too ; don't let 'em walk into 'Willi's' TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES 245 you now afore you know where you be. Young gentlemen are scarce in New Enj^lund ; sweethearts ain't to be had for love nol money, and a good-lookin' feller like you, with a'five hundred paif of pretty little good-natured longin' eyes on him, is in a fair way o' gettin' his flint fixed, I tell you. Marriage won't do for you, my hearty, till you've see'd the world and made sunthin' handsum. To marry for money is mean, or marry without it is folly, and to marry both young and poor is downright madness ; so hands off, says you ; love to all, but none in partik'lar. If you find yourself , agettin' spooney, throw brush, palette, and paint over the falls, and off full split ; change of air and scene to cure love, consump- tion, or the blues, must be taken airly in the disease, or it's no good. An ounce o' prevention is worth a pound o' cure. Recollect, too, when you are married, you are tied by the leg, Sam ; like one of our sodt^er desarters, you have a chain a-danglin' to your foot, with a plaguy heavy shot to the eend of it. It keeps you to one place most all the time, for you can't carry it with you, and you can't leave it behind you, and you can't do nothin' with it. " ' If you think you can trust yourself, go ; if not, stay where you be. It's a grand school, tho', Sam ; you'll know sunthin' of human natur* when you leave Lowell, I estimate, for they'll larn you how to cut your eye-teeth, them gals ; you'll see how wonderful the ways of womankind is, for they do beat all — that's sartin'.' Well, down I went to Lowell, and arter a day or two spent a-visitin' the factories and gettin' introduced to the ladies, I got a room and sot up my easel, and I had as much work as ever I could cleverly turn my hand to. Most every gal in the place had her likeness taken j some wanted 'em to send to home, some to give to a sweetheart to admire, and some to hang up to admire themselves. The best of the joke was, every gal had an excuse for bein' there. They all seemed as if they thought it warn't quite genteel, a little too much in the help style. One said she came from the benefit of the lectur's at the Lyceum ; another to carry a little sister to dancin' school ; and a third to assist the fund for foreign missions, and so on, but none on 'em to work. Some on 'em lived in large buildings belongin' to the factory, and others in little cottages — three or four in a house. . i ^ '* I recollect two or three days arter I arrived, I went to call on Miss Naylor, I knew down at Squantum, and she axed me to come and drink tea with her and the two ladies that lived with her. So in the evenin' I put on my bettermost clothes and went down to tea. 'This,' says she, introducin' of me to the ladies, ' is Mr. Slick, a nat/V^ artist of great promise, and one that is self-taught too, that is come to take us off; and this is Miss Jemima Potts, of MilMam, in Umbagog ; and this is Miss Binah Dooly, a lady from Indgian Scalp, Varmont.' 'Your sar- vant, ladies,' says I ; * I hope I see you well. Beautiful factory this ; it whips English all holler. Our free and enlitrhtened citizeus ■ w In ■':■*', f - - ■ 246 THE CLOCKMAKER have exhibited so much skill, and our intelligent and enterprisin* ladies', says I (with a smile and a bow to each), 'so much science and taste, that I reckon we mij;ht stump the universal world to ditto Lowell.* * It sartainly is one of the wonders of the world,* says Miss Jemima Potts ; ' it is astonishing how jealous the English are ; it makes 'em so ryled they can't bear to praise it at all. There was one on 'em a-goin' thro' the large cotton factory to-day with Judge Beler, and says the Judge to him, " Now don't this astonish you ?" said he ; " don't it exceed any idea you could have formed of it ; you must allow there is nothin' like it in Europe, and yet this is only in its infancy — it's only jist begun. Come now, confess the fact, don't you feel that the sun of England is set for ' ever — her glory departed to set up its standard in the new world ? Speak candidly now, for I should like to hear what you think." "It certainly is a respectable effort for a young country with a thin population," said he, " and a limited capital, and is creditable to the skill and enterprise of New England ; but as for rivalry, it's wholly out of the question ; " and he looked as mad as if he could a-swallered a wild cat alive. " Well, well," said the Judge, larfin', for he is a sweet-tempered, dear man, and the politest one too I ever knew, "I don't altogether know as it is jist fair to ask you to admit a fact so humblin' to your national pride, and so mortifyin' to your feelin's as an Englishman ; but I can easily conceive how thunderstruck you must have been on enterin' this town, at its prodijiious power, its great capacity, its wonderful promise. It's generally allowed to be the first thing of the kind in the world." But what are you a-lookin' at, Mr. Slick?' said she; 'is there anything on my cheek .'" * I was only a-thinkin',' says I, * how difficult it would be to paint such a'most beautiful complexion, to infuse into it the softness and richness of Natur's colourin' ; I'm most afeerd it would be beyond my art — that's a fact.' " ' Oh, you artists do flatter so,' said she ; ' tho' flattery is a part of your profession, I do believe ; but I'm e'en a'most sure there is somethin' or another on my face ' — and she got up and looked into the glass to satisfy herself. It would a' done you good, Squire, to see how it did satisfy her too. * How many of the ladies have you taken off?' said Miss Dooly. 'I have only painted three,' said I, *yet ; but I have thirty bespoke. How would you like to be painted,' said I, 'miss?' 'On a white horse,' said she, *accompanyin' of my father, the General, to the review.' 'And you,' said I, 'Miss Naylor?' 'A-studyin' Judge Naylor, my uncle's specimens,' said she, ' in the library.' Says Miss Jemima, * I should like to be taken off in my brother's barge.' * What is he?' said 1, 'for he would have to have his uniform on.* 'He?' said she ; ' why, he is a — ' and she looked away and coloured up like anything — 'he's an officer, sir,' said she, 'in one of our national ships.' * Yes, miss,' said I, ' I know that ; but officers are dressed accordin' to their grade, you know, in our srrvice. We TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES 247 } must give him the right dress. What is his grade?' The other two ladies turned round and giggled, and Miss Jemima hung down her head and looked foolish. Says Miss Naylor, ' Why don't you tell him, dear? ' * No,' says she, * I won't ; do you tell him.' * No, indeed,' said Miss Naylor ; *he is not my brother ; you ought to know best what he is — do you tell him yourself.' * Oh, you know very well, Mr. Slick,' said she, ' only you make as if you didn't, to poke fun at me, and make me say it.' * I hope I may be shot if I do,' says I, * miss ; I never heerd tell of him afore, and if he is an officer in our navy, there is one thing I c^n tell you,' says I, ' you needn't be ashamed to call one of our naval h'Toes your brother, nor to tell his grade neither ; for there ain't an office in the sarvice that ain't one of honour and glory. The British can whip all the world, and we can whip the British.' " * Well,' says she, a-lookin' down and takin' up her handkerchief, and turnin' it eend for eend to read the marks in the corner of it, to see if it was her'n or not — ' if I must, then I suppose \ must ; he is a rooster swain, then, but it's a shame to make me.' * A rooster swain 1 ' says I ; ' well I vow I never heerd that grade afore in all my born days ; I hope I may die if I did. What sort of a swain is a rooster swain ?' * How you do act, Mr. Slick,' said she; * ain't you ashamed of yourself? Do, for gracious' sake, behave, and not carry on so like Old Scratch. You are goin' too far now ; ain't he. Miss Naylor ? ' * Upon my word, I don't know what you mean,' said Miss Naylor, affectin' to look as innocent as a female fox. ' I'm not used to sea-tarms, and I don't onderstand it no more than he does ;' and Miss Dooly got up a book, and began to read and rock herself backward and forward in a chair, as rigilar as a Mississippi sawyer, and as demure as you please. 'Well,' thinks I, 'what onder the sun can she mean ? for I can't make head nor tail of it.' ' A rooster swain I — a rooster swain I ' says I ; * do tell.' ' Well,' says she, * you make me feel quite spunky, and if you don't stop this minit, I'll go right out of the room ; it ain't fair to make game of me so, and I don't thank you for it one mite or morsel.' Says I, ' Miss, I beg your pardon ; I'll take my davy I didn't mean no offence at all ; but, upon my word and honour, I never heerd the word rooster swain afore, and I don't mean to larf at your brother, or tease you neither.' * Well,* says she, ' I suppose you never will ha' done, so turn away your face and I will tell you.' And she got up and turned my head round with her hands to the wall, and the other two ladies started out, and said they'd go and see arter the tea. " ' Well,' says I, 'are you ready now, miss ?' ' Yes,' said she ; *a rooster swain, if you must know, you wicked critter you, is a cockswain ; a word you know'd well enough warn't fit for a lady to speak ; so take that to remember it by ' — and she fetched me a deuce of a clip on the side of the face, and ran cut of the room Well, I swear I could hardly keep from larfin' right out, to find m Mifi I I ;^ •■■■ t 248 THE CLOCKMAKER out arter all it was nothin' but a cockswain she made such a toust about ; but I felt kinder sorry, too, to have bothered her so, for I recollect there was the same difficulty among our ladies last war about the name of the English officer that took Washington ;* they called him always the " British Admiral," and there warn't a lady in the Union would call him by name. I'm a great friend to decency, a very great friend indeed, .Squire — for decency is a manly vartue ; and to delicacy, for delicacy is a feminine vartue j but as for squeamishness, rat me if it don't make rne sick. " There was two little rooms behind the keepin' room ; one was R pantry, and t'other a kitchen. It was mto the fardest one the ladies went to get tea ready, and presently they brought in the things and sot them down on the table, and we all got sociable once more. Jist as we began conversation agin, Miss Jemima Potts said she must go and bring in the cream-jug. Well, up I jumps, and foUers her out, and says I, * Pray let me, miss, wait upon you ; it ain't fair for the ladies to do this when the gentlemen are by — is it? Why didn't you call on me?' I overtook her jist at the kitchen door. ' But this doorway,' said I, * is so plaguy narrer — ain't it? There is hardly room for two to pass without their lips a-touch in', is there?' 'Ain't you ashamed?* said she; *I believe you have broke my comb in two — that's a fact ; but don't do that agin,' said she, a-whisperin', ' that's a dear man ; Miss Dooly will hear you, and tell every lady in the factory, for she's plaguy jealous ; so let me pass now.' • One more to make friends,' said I,* miss.' *Hush !' said she — * there — let me go;* and she put the jug in my hand, and then whipped up a plate herself, and back into the parlour in no time. ** * A curtain,' says I, * ladies * (as I sot down agin), * or a book* shelf, I could introduce into the pictur* ; but it would make it a work o' great time and expense, to do it the w&yyou speak of ; and besides,' says I, * who would look at the rest if the face was well done ? for one thing, I will say, three prettier faces never was seen painted on canvas.' * Oh, Mr. Slick,' says they, ' how you bam I ain't you ashamed ? ' * Fact,' says I, * ladies, upon my honour : a fact, and no mistake.^ If you would allow me, ladies,' said I, 'to suggest, I think hair Hone up high, long tortoise-shell comb, with flowers on the top, would become you. Miss Naylor, and set off your fine Grecian face grand. A fashionable momin' cap, lined with pink and trimmed with blue bows, would set off your portrait. Miss Dooly, and become your splendid Roman profile complete.' * And what for me ? ' said Jemima. ' if I might be so bold,' said I, ' I would advise leavin' out the comb in your case, miss,' said I, 'as you are tall, and it might perhaps be in the way, and be broke in two' (and I pressed her foot onder the table with mine), 'and I would throw the hair into long loose nateral curls, and let the neck and shoulders be considerable * Sir George Cockburn. , ,. bi li q' m I I, I. TAKING OFF THE FACTORY LADIES 249 bare, to give room for a pearl necklace, or coral beads, or any little splendid ornament of that kind.' Miss Jemima lookea quite delighted at this idea, and jumpin' up, exclaimed, ' Dear me,' said she, * 1 forgot the sugar-ton^'s ! I'll iist ^o and fetch 'em.' 'Allow me,' says I, 'miss,' foUenn' her ; '^but ain't it funny miss,' says I too, ' that we should jist get scroudged agin in this very identical little narrer doorway — ain't it?' 'How you act,' said she , 'now this is too bad ; the curl is all squashed, I declare ; I won't come out agin to-night, I vow.' * Nor I neither then,' said I, larfm' ; 'let them that wants things go for 'em.' 'Then you couldn't introduce the specimens, could you?' said Miss Naylor ; •the Judge, my uncle, has a beautiful collection. When he was in business as a master-mason, he built the great independent Democratic Sovereignty Hall at Sam Patchville (a noble buildin* that, Mr. Slick ; it's generally allowed to be the first piece of architecture in the world). He always broke off a piece of every kind of stone used in the buildin', and it makes it a'most a complete tollection. If I could be taken off at a table a-studyin' and a-sortin* 'em into primary formations, secondary formations, and trap, I should like it amazin'ly.' " ' Well,' says I, ' I'll do the best I can to please you, miss, for I never hear of secondary formations without pleasure, that's a fact. The ladies, you know, are the secondary formation, for they were formed arter men ; and as for trap,' says I, ' if they ain't up to that, Us a pity. r men ; and as for trap,' says I, Why, as I'm alive,' said I, 'if th at ain't the nine o'clock bell ; well, how time has flowed, hasn't it ? I suppose I must be a-movin', as it is gettin' on considerable late ; but I must say I've had a most delightful evenin' as ever I spent in my life. When a body,' says I, ' finds himself in a circle of literary and scientific ladies, he takes no note of time, it passes so smooth and quick. Now,' says I, 'ladies, excuse me for mentionin' a little bit of business, but it is usual in my profession to be paid one half in advance ; but with the ladies I dispense with that rule,' says I, 'on one condition — I receive a kiss as airnest.* 'Oh, Mr. Slick,' lays they, ' how can you ?' ' No kiss, no pictur',* says I. ' Is that an invariable rule?' says they. 'I never deviated from it in my life,' said I, 'especially where the ladies are so beautiful as my kind friends here to-night are. Thank you, my sweet Miss Naylor,'-said I. ' Oh, did you ever — 'said she. 'And you also, dear Miss Dooly.* 'Oh, my sakes,' said she, ' how ondecent !' 'I wish I could take my pay altogether in that coin,' said I. * Well, you'll get no such airnest from me, I can tell you,' said Miss Jemima, and off she sot^ and darted out o' the room like a kitten, and I arter her. *Oh! that dear little narrer doorway seems made on purpose,' said I, 'don't it?' 'Well, I hope you are satisfied now,' said she, 'you forward, impudent critter ; you've taken away my breath a'most.* * Good-night, ladies,' said I. 'Good-night, Mr. Slick,' says they j •don't forget to call and take us off to-morrow at intermission.* ->!| '^^t^ uwt I ,-'f. 350 THE CLOCKMAKER And says Miss Jemima, walkin' out as far as the pate with me, *When not better cn^M^rd, we shall be happy to see you sociably to tea.' * Most happy, miss,* said I ; 'only I fear I shall call oftener than will be aj^aceablc ; but, dear me I ' says I, ' I've for^^ot some- thin*, I declare,' and I turned ripht about. * Perhaps you forgot it in the little narrer doorway,' said she, a-larfin' and steppin' backwards, and holdin' up both hands to fend off. 'What is it?' said she, and she looked up as saucy and as rompy as you please. 'Why,' said I, ' that drcaiWlll, horrid name you called your brother. What was it? for I've forgot it, I vow.* * Look about and find it out,* said she ; 'it's what you ain't, and never was, and never will be, and that's a {gentleman. You are a nasty, dirty, ondecent man — that's flat, and if you don't like it you may lump it, so there now for you ; good-night I But stop, shake hands afore you go,' said she ; 'let's part friends,' and she held out her hand. list as I was a-goin' to take it, it slipt up like flash by my face, and tipt my hat off over my shoulder, and as I turned and stooped to pick it up she up with her little foot and let me have it, and pitched me right over on my knees. It was done as quick as wink. ' Even and quit now,* said she, * as good friends as ever.' ' Done,' said I. ' Bui hush,' said she ; ' that critter has the ears of a mole, and the eye| of a lynx.* 'What, critter?' said I. 'Why, that frightful, ugl> Varmont witch, Binah Dooly, if she ain't a-comin' out here, as I'm a livin' sinner. Come again soon, that's a dear I good-night I and she s^led back as demure as if nothin* had a-happened. Yes, Squire, the Honourable Eli Wad, the foundationalist, was right when he said I'd see sunthin' of human natur* among the factory gals. The ways of womankind are wonderful indeed. This was my first lesson, that squcamishness and indelicacy are often found united; in shorty that in meet" manners^ as in other things^ extremes CHAPTER XIX THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD The road from Chester to Halifax is one of the worst in the province ; and daylight failing us before we made half our journeyi we were compelled to spend the night at a small unlicensed house, the occasional resort of fishermen and coasters. There was but one room in the shanty, besides the kitchen and bedroom ; and that one, though perfectly clean, smelt intolerably of smoked salmon that garnished its rafters. A musket, a light fowling-piece, and a heavy American rifle, were slung on the beams that supported the floor of the garret ; and snow-shoes, fishing-rods, and small dip-nets with long ash handles, were secured to the wall by iron books. Altogether it had a sporting appearance, that indicated THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD 251 the owner to be one of those amphibious animals to whom land or water is equally natural, and who prefer the pUasurcs of the chase and the fishery to the severer labour, but n^ore protitable employ- ment, of tilling' the soil. A lew fancy articles of costly materials and superior workmanship that ornamented the mantelpiece and open closet (probably presents from the j^cntlemen of the garrison at Halifax), showed that there were sometimes visitors of a different description from the ordinary customers. As the house was a solitary one, and situated at the head of a deep, well-sheltered inlet, it is probable that smuggling may have added to the prolits, and diversified the pursuits of the owner. He did not, hovvever, make his appearance. He h.ad gone, his wife said, in his boat that afternoon to Margaret's Bay, a distance of eight miles, to procure some salt to cure his fish, and would probably not return before the morning. :. " I've been here before, you see. Squire," said Mr. wSlick, pointing to a wooden clock in the corner of the room; "folks that have nothin' to do like to see how the tiirj goes— and a man who takes a glass of grog at twelve o'clock ij the most punctual feller in the world. The draft is always honoured when it falls due. lUit who have we here .-*" As he said this, a man entered the room, carrying a small bundle in his hand, tied up in a dirty silk pocket-handker* chief. He was dressed in an old suit of rusty black, much tl.i worse for wear. His face bore the marks of intemperance, and he appeared much fatigued with his journey, which he had performed alone and on foot. " I hope I don't intrude, gentlemen," said he ; " but you see Dulhanty, poor fellow, has but one room, and poverty makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows sometimes. — Brandy, my little girl, and some cold water : take it out of the north side of the well, my dear ; and do you hear, be quick, for I'm choked with the dust. — Gentlemen, will you take some brandy and water ? " said he. " Dulhanty always keeps some good brandy ; none o* your wretched Yankee peach brandy, that's enough to pyson a horse, but real Cogniak." "Well, I don't care if I do," said Mr. Slick. " Arter you, sir. By your leave, the water, sir." " Gentlemen, all your healths," said the stranger. " Good brandy, that, sir ; you had better take another glass before the water gets warm," and he helped himself again most liberally ; then taking a survey of the Clockmaker and myself, observed to Mr. Slick that he thought he had seen him before. " Well, it's not onlikely ;— where ?" " Ah, that's the question, sir ; I cannot exactly say where." " Nor I neither." " Which way may you be travellin' ? Down east, I expect." " Which way are you from, then .'' Somewhere down south.** The traveller again applied himself to brandy and water. "Ahem I then you are from Lunenburg." ;S ''^' ■ ■ •;<■■ "f I 252 THE CLOCKMAKER "Well, I won't say I warn't at Lunenburg." " Ahem ! pretty place that Lunenburg ; but they speak Dutch. D — n the Dutch ; I hate Dut'^h • there's no language like the English. Then I suppose you are going to Halifax ? " " Well, I won't say I won't go to Halifax afore I return, neither." " A nice town that Halifax — good fish-market there ; but they are not like the English fish arter all. Halibut is a poor substitute for the good old English turbot. Where did you say you were from, sir?" " I don't jist altogether mind that I said I was from any place in part'ck'lar, but from down south last." " Ahem ! your health, sir ; perhaps you are like myself, sir, a stranger, and have no home ; and, after all, there is no home like England. Pray what part of England are you from ?" " I estimate I'm not from England at all." "I'm sorry for you, then ; but where the devil are you from?" *' In a gineral way folks say I'm from the States." " Knock them down, then, d — n them. If any man was to insult me by calling me a Yankee, I'd kick him ; but the Yankees have no seat of honour to kick. If I hadn't been thinkin' more of my brandy aud water than your answers, I might have known yoM were a Yankee by your miserable evasions. They never give a straight answer ; there's nothing straight about them but their long backs;" and he was asleep in his chair, overcome by the united effects of the heat, the brandy :.i d fatigue. " That's one o' their schoolmasters,'- said Mr. Slick ; " and it's no wonder the blue-noses are such 'cute chaps when they got such masters as that 'are to teach the young idea how to shoot. The critter has axed more questions in ten minutes thai, if he was a full-blooded Yankee, tho' he does hate them so ^tf^^werfuUy. He's an Englishman, and, I guess, has seen better days ; but he is ruinated by drink now. When he is about half-shaved he is nn everlastin' quarrelsom' critt'^r, and carries a most plaguy uncivil tongue in his head ; that's the reason I didn't let on where I came from, for he hates us like pyson. But there ain't many such critters here ; the English don't emigrate here much — they go to Canada or the States ; and it's strange too, for. Squire, this is the best location in all America, is Nova Scotia, if the British did but know it. "It will have the greatest trade, the greatest population, the most manufactur's, and the most wealth of any state this side of the water. The resources, nateral advantages, and political position of this place beat all. Take it all together, 1 don't know jist such a country in.the univarsal world a'most." "What 1 Nova Scotia?" said I ; "this poor little colony, this Ultima Thule of America; what is ever to make it a place of any consequence ?" "Everything, Squire," said he, " everything that constitutes greatness. I wish we had it, that's all ; and we will have it, too, some o' these days, THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD 253 is, to man the ships to fill the ,ys, if they don't look sharp. In the first place, it has more nor twice as many great men-o'-war harbours in it, capable of holdin' the whole navy in it, stock, lock, and barrel, than we have from Maine to Mexico, besides innumerable small harbours, island ices, and other shelters, and it's jist all but an island itself; and most all the best o' their harbours don't freeze up at no time. It ain't shot up like Canada Jinfi our back country all winter, but you can in and out as you please ; and it's so intersected with rivers and lakes, most no part of it is twenty miles from navigable water to the sea ; and then it is the nearest point of our continent to Europe." "All that," said I, "is vf^ry true; but good harbours, though necessary for trade, are not the only things requisite in commerce." " But it's in the midst of the fisheries, Squire ; all sorts of fisheries, too. River fisheries of sha'd, sahnon, gasperaux, and herrinj,^, shore fishery of mackerel and cod, bank fishery, and Labrador fishery. Oh dear 1 it beats all, and they don't do nothin' with 'em, but leave 'em to us. They don't seem to think 'em worth havin' or keepin', for Government don't protect 'em. See what a school for seamen that harljours. " Then look at the beeowells of the airth ; only think of the coal ; and it's no use a-talkin', that's the only coal to supply us that we can rely on. Why, there ain't nothin' liko ^t. It extends all the way from Bay of Fund/ right out to i'lctou through the province, and then under all the Island of Cape Breton ; and some o' them seams are the biggest, the thickest, and deepest ever yet discovered since the world begun. Beautiful coal it is too. Then Natuv^ has given 'em most grand abuntiant iron-ore, here and there and everywhere, and wood and coal to work it Only think o' them two things in such abundance, and a country possessed of the first chop-water powers everywhere, and then tell me Providence hasn't laid the foundation of a manufacturin* nation here. But that ain't ali. Jist see the plaster of Paris, what almighty biij heaps of it there is here. We use already more nor a hundred and fifty thousand tons of it a year fof manure, and we shall want ten times that quantity yet~we can't do-without it ; it has done more for us than steam ; it has made our barren lands fertile, and whole tracts habitable, that never would have been worth a cent an acre without it. It wiU go to South .America and the West Indgies yet — it is the magic wand — it's the philosopher's stone ; I hope I n^ay be shot if it ain't ; it turns all it touches into gold. See wiiat a si.^ht of vessels it takes to carry a great bulky article like that— what a si;;ht of men it employs, what a host of folks it feeds, what a batch of sailors it bakes, what hardy tars for the wooden walls of Old England. But Old England is as blind as a bat, and blue-nose is a puppy only nine days old ; he can't see yet. If the critter was well trained, had his ears cropped and tongue wormed, he might turn out a '■■I >0i ■i. 254 THE CLOCKMAKER decent-lookin' whelp yet, for the old one is a good nurse and feeds well. Well, then, look at the lead, copper, slate (and as for slate, they may stump Wales, I know, to produce the like), granite, grind- stone, freestone, lime, manganese, salt, sulphur. Why, they've got everything but enterprise, and that I do believe in my soul they expect to find a mine of, and dig up out of the ground as they do coal. But the soil. Squire, where will you find the like o' that ? A considerable part of it along the coast is poor, no doubt ; but it's the fishin' side of the province, and therefore it's all right ; but the bay side is a tearin', rippin' fine country. Them dyke mashes have raised h^y and grain year arter year now for a whole centery without manur*, and I guess will continue to do so from July to etarnity. Then Natur' has given them that sea-mud, salt-sand, sea-weed, and river-sludge for dressin' their upland, so that it could be made to carry wheat till all's blue again." *' If it possesses all these advantages you speak of," said I, " it will doubtless be some day or another both a populous and rich country ; but still it does not appear to me that it can be compared to the country of the Mississippi." *' Why, Squire," said he, "if you was once to New Orleens I think you wouldn't say so. That IS a great country, no doubt, too great to compare to a rmall province like this ; great resources, great river, fartile land, great trade ; but the climate is awful, and the emigrant people ain't much better than the climate. The folks at New Orleens put me in n^ind of children playin' in a churchyard, jumpin' over the graves, hidin' behind the tombs, a-larfin' at the emblems of mortality, and the queer old rhymes onder 'em, all full of life and glee, and fun above ground, while onderneath it is a great charnel-house, full of windin'- sheets, skeletons, and generations of departed citizens. That 'are place is built in a bar in the harbour, mad i of srags, driftwood, and chokes, heaped up by the river, and then filled and covered with the sediment and alluvial of the rich bottoms above, brought down by the freshets. It's peopled in the same way. The eddies and tides of business of all that country centre there, and the froth and scum are washed up and settle at New Orleens. It's filled with all sorts of people, black, white, and Indgians, and their diflferent shades, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Dutch ; English, Irish, and Scotch, and then people from every state ;n the Union These last have all nicknames. There's the hoosiers of Indiana, the suckers of Illinoy, the pukes of Missuri, the buckeys of Ohio, the red horses of Kentucky, the mudheads of Teressee, the wolverines of Michigan, the eels of New Enj^land, and the corn-crackers of Virginia. All these, with many others, make up the population, which is mottled with black and all its shades ; 'most all too is supplied by emigration. It is a great caravansary filled with strangers, dissolute enough to make your hair stand on eend, drinkin' all day, gamblin' all night, r nd fightin' all the time. Death pervades all natur' there ; it breathes in the air, and it floats on the THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD 255 water, and rises in the vapours and exhalations, and rides on the whirlwind and tempest : it dwells on the drought, and also in the inundation. Above, below, within, around, everywhere is death ; but who knows, or misses, or mourns the stranger ? Dig a grave for him, and you plunge him into the water ; the worms eat the coffin, and the crocodiles have the body. We have mills at Rhode Island with sarcular saws, and apparatus for makin' packin'-boxes. At one of these factories they used to make 'em in the shape of coffins, and then they sarved a double purpose ; they carried out inions to New Orleens, and then carried out the dead to their graves. " That 'are city was made by the freshets. It's a chance if it ain't carried away by them. It may yet be its fate to be swept clean off by 'em, to mingle once more with the stream that deposited it, and form new land further down the river. It may chance to be a spot to be pointed out from the steam-boats, as the place where a great city once stood, and a great battle was once fought, in which the genius and valour of the new world triumphed over the best troops and the best ginerals of Europe. That place is jist like a hot-bed, and the folk like the plants in it. People do grow rich fast ; but they look kinder spindlin' and weak, and they are e'en a'most choked with weeds and toad-stools, that grow every bit and grain as fast, and twice as nateral. The blue-noses don't know how to valy this location, Squire, that's a fact, for it's a'most a grand one." '• What's a grand location ?" said the schoolmaster, waking up. ** Nova Scotia," said Mr. Slick. " I was just a-tellin' of the Squire it's grand location." " D-~n the location," said he ; "I hate the word ; it ain't English : there are no words like the English words Here, my little girl, more brandy, my dear, and some fresh water. Mind it's fresh — take it out of the bottom of the well, do you hear? the coldest spot in the well ; and be quick : for I'm burnt up with the heat to-day. Who's for a pull of grog ? Suppose we have a pull, gentlemen— a good pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together, eh ! Here's to you, gentlemen ! — ah, that's good ! you are sure of good brandy here. I say, Mister Location, won't you moisten the clay, eh ? Come, my honest fellow 1 I'll take another glass with you to our better acquaintance — you won't, eh ? well, then, I'll supply your deficiency myself; here's luck 1 Where did you say you were from, sir ? " " I don't mind that I indicated where I was jist in pitikilar." " No, you didn't ; but I twig you now, my boy, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker 1 And so you say this is a nice /^cation, do you ? Yes, it is a nice /cpcation indeed for a gentleman this — a /cctiUon for pride and poverty, for ignorance and assumption, for folly and vice. Curse the location 1 I say ; there's no location like Old England." "This is a poor man's country, s r ; but not a rich man's or a gentleman's. There's nothin' thii, side of the water, sir, approachin' to the class of m I: i M i. / ^ It ' 4?. """"♦•f 'v?^ 256 THE CLOCKMAKER gentry. They have neither the feelings, the sentiments, nor the breeding. They know nothing about it. What little they have here, sir, are second-hand airs copied from poor models that necessity forces out here. It is the farce of ' High Life below Stairs,' sir, played in a poor theatre to a provincial audience. Poor as I am, humble as I am, and degraded as I am — for I am now all three — I have seen better days, and was not always the houseless wanderer you now see me. I know what I am talking about. There is nothing beyond respectable mediocrity here ; there never can be, there is no material for it, there is nothing to support it. Some fresh water, my dear ; that horrid water is hot enough to scald one's throat. The worst of a colony is, sir, there is no field for ambition, no room for talents, no reward for distinguished exertions. It is a rich country for a poor man, and a poor country for a rich one. There is no permanent upper class of society here, or anywhere else in America. There are rich men, learned men, agreeable men, liberal men, and good men, but very few gentlemen. The breed ain't pure ; it is not kept long enough distinct to refine, to obtain the distinctive marks, to become generic. Dry work this talkin' — your health, gentlemen ! — a good fellow that Dulhanty, suppose we drink his health ? He always keeps good brandy ; there's not a headache in a gallon of it. " What was I talking about ? Oh I I have it — the A?cation, as those drawling Yankees call it. Yes, instead of importing horses here from England to improve the breed, they should import gentlemen ; they want the true breed, they want blood." " Yes," said the Clockmaker (whom I had never known to remain silent so long before), " I guess." " Yes, d — n you I " said the stranger, " what do you know about it ? you know as much about a j^entleman as a cat does of music. If you interrupt me again, I'll knock your two eyes into one, you clockmaking, bumpkin-beaded, peddling, cheating Yankee vagabond. The sickly wax-work imitation ojf gentility here, the faded artificial flower of fashion, 'he vulgar pre- tension, the contemptible struggle for precedence, ?. .ake one look across the Atlantic with a longing after the frebhness of nature, for life and its realities. All North America is a poor country, with a poor climate. I would not give Ireland for the whole of it. This Nova Scotia is the best part of it, and has the greatest resources ; but still there is no field in a colony for a man of talent and educa- tion. Little ponds never hold big fish ; there is nothing but poUy- wogs, tadpoles, and m'r>''>^s in them. Look at them as they swim thro' the shallow water of th*; margins of their little muddy pool, following some small fellow an inch long, the leader of the shoal, that thinks himself a whale, and if you do not despise their preten- sions, you will, at least, be compelled to laugh at their absurdities. Go to every legislature this side of the water from Congress to Halifax, and hear the sUifTthat is talked. Go to every press, and see the stuff that is printed. Go to the jpeople« and see the stuif that THE WRONG ROOM 257 II "to sit If you is uttered or swallowed, and then teli me this is a location for anythin;^^ above mtediocrity." " What keeps you here, then," said Mr. Slick, " if it is such an everlastin' miserable country as you lay it out to be ?" " I'll tell you, sir," said he, and he drained off the whole of the brandy, as if to prepare for the effort — " I will tell you what keeps me," and he placed his hands on his knees, and looking the Clockmaker steadily in the face until every muscle worked with emotion — " I'll tell you, sir, if you must knew — my misfortune." The efifort and the brandy overpowered him ; he fell from his chair, and we removed him to a bed, loosened his cravat, and left him to his repose. " It's a considerable of a trial," said the Clockmaker, still and listen to tiiat cussed old critter, I tell you. hadn't a-been here, I'd a-given him a raal good quiltin'. I'd a-tanned his jacket for him ; I'd a-larned him to carry a civil tongue in his head, the nasty, drunken, onma nerly, good-for- nothin' beast. More than once I felt my fingers itch to give him a slock-dolager under the ear ; but he ain't worth mindin*, I guess. Yes, Squire, I won't deny but New Orleens is a great place — a wonderful place ; but there are resources here beyond al) conception, and its climate is as pleasant as any we have, and a plaguy sight more healthy. I don't know what more you'd ask ; almost an island, indented everywhere with harbours, surrounded, with fisheries ; the key of the St. Lawrence, the Bay of Fund'-, and the West Indgies ; prime land above ; one vast mineral bed beneath ; and a climate over all temperate, pleasant, and healthy. If that ain't enough for one's place, it's a pity — that's all." ■ k if 5> it;' CHAPTER XX THE WRONG ROOM n- ;s. at The next morning the rain poured down in torrents, and it was ten o'clock before we were able to resume our journey. " I am glad," said Mr. Slick, " that cussed critter, that schoolmaster, hasn't yet woke up. I'm 'most afeerd if he had a-turned out afore we started I should have quilted him, for that talk of his last night sticks in my crop considerable hard. It ain't overeasy to digest, I tell you ; for nothin* a'most raises my dander so much as to hear a benighted, ignorant, and enslaved foreigner belittle our free and enlightened citizens. But see there. Squire," said he, *' that's the first Indgian campment we've fell in with on out journey. Happy fellers, them Indgians, bcan't they? They have no wants and no cares but food and clothin', and fishin' and huntin' supply them things easy. That tall one you see spearin' fish down in that 'are creek there is Peter Paul, a'most a plaguy I : 4 ' ■ w , fe 1-^ 258 THE CLOCKMAKER cute chap. I mind the last time I was to Lunenburg, I see'd him at the magistrate's, John Robar's. He laid down the law to the justice better than 'are a lawyer I have met with in the Province yet ; he talked as clever a'most as Mr. Clay. I'll tell you what it was. Peter Paul had made his wigwam one winter near a brook on the farm of James M'Nutt, and employed his time in cooperin', and used M'Nutt's timber when he wanted any. Well, M'Nutt threatened to send him to jail if he didn't move away, and Paul came to Robar to ax him whether it could be done. Says he, * Squire, M'Nutt, he came to me, and says he, " Peter, what a-devil you do here, d— n you ? " I say, " I make 'em bucket, make 'em tub, maybe basket or axe handle, to buy me some blanket and powder and shot with. You no want some ? " Well, he say, " This rny land, Peter, and my wood ; I bought 'em, and pay money for 'em. I won't let you stay here and cut my wood ; if you cut anoder stick, I send you to jail." Then I tell him I see what Governor say to that. What you plant, tiiat yours ; what you sow, that yours too. But you no plant 'em woods ; God — He plant 'em dat ; He make 'em river too, for all mens — white man and Indgian man —all same. God, He no give 'em river to one man ; He make him run thro' all the woods. When you drink, he run on and I drink ; and then when all drink, he run on to de sea. He no stand stili ; you no catch him, you no have him. If I cut down your apple tree, then send me to jail, 'cause you plant 'em ; but if I cut down ash tree, oak tree, or pine tree in woods, I say it's mine, if I cut 'em first ; for tree in big woods like river — first cut him, first have him. If God give 'em all to you, where is your writin', or bring somebody say he hear Him say so, then I stop. I never kill your hog, and say I thought him one boar ; nor your hen, and say him one partridge ; but you go kill my stock, my carriboo, and my moose. I never frighten away your sheep ; but you go chop wood, and make one d — d noise and frighten away bear ; so when I go to my trap I no find him there, and I lose him, and de skin, and de meat too. No two laws for you and me, but all same. You know Jeffery ? hiin big man in Halifax ; well, him very good man that ; very kind to poor Indgian — (when that man go to heaven, God will give him plenty of baccy to smoke for that, I know). Well, he say, " Peter Paul, when you want ash-tree, you go cut 'em down on my land when you like ; ! ^'ive you leave." He very good man dat, but God give 'em afore jeffery was born. And by-and-by I say, "M'Nutt, you have 'em all. Indgian all die soon : no more wood loft, no more hunt left ; he starve, and then you take all. Till then I take 'em wood that God plant for us, where I find 'em. and no thanks to you." ' It would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to answer that, I guess," said Mr. Slick. "That feller cyphered thai out of human natur*, the best book a man can study arter all, and the only true one ; there's no two y . THE WRONG ROOM 259 ways about it, there's never no mistake there. Queer critter, that Peter ; he has an answer for every one ; nothin' ever da'nts or poses him ; but here we are at the eend of our journey ; and I must say I am sorry for it too, for tho' it's been a considerable of a long one, it's been a very pleasant one." When we returned to Halifax we drove to Mrs. Spicer's boarding-house, where I had bespoken lodgings previously to my departure from town. While the servants were prepi^ring my room, we were shown into the parlour of Mrs. Spicer. She was young, pretty, and a widow. She had but one child, a daughter of six years of age, which, like all only children, was petted and spoiled. She was first shy, then familiar, and ended by being troublesome and rude. She amused her mother by imitatmg Mr. Slick's pronunciation, and herself by using his hat for a football. " Entertainin' that, ain't it ?" said the Clockmaker, as we entered our own apartments. " The worst of women is," said he, " they are for everlastin'ly a-teasin' folks with their children, and take more pains to spoil 'em and make 'em disagreeable than anything else. Who the plague wants to hear 'em repeat a yard o' poetry like that 'ate little sarpent? I am sure I don't. The Hon. Eli Wad was right when he said the ways o* womankind are wonderful. I've been afeeid to venture on mauimony myself, and I don't think I shall spekilatc in that line for one while. It don't jist suit a rovin' man like me. It's a considerable of a tie, and then it ain't like a horse deal, where, if you don't like the beast, you can put it off in a raffle, or trade, or swop, and suit yourself better ; but you must make the best of a bad bargain, and put up with it. It ain't often you meet a critter of the right mettle ; spirited, yet gentle ; easy on the bit, sure-footed and spry ; no bitin', or kickin', or sulkin', or racin' off, or refusin' to |.;o, or runnin' back, and then clean-limbed and good carriage. It's about the difficultest piece of business I know on. " Our great cit'es are most the only places in our Union where a man can marry with comfort, raal rightdown genuine comfort, and no drawback. No farnishin' a house ; and if you go for to please a woman in that line, there's no eend o' the expense they'll go to, and no trouble about helps — a considerable of a pla;4ue them in the States, you may depend ; then you got nothin' to provide, and nothm' to see arter, and it ain't so pla-uy lonely as a private house neither. The ladies, too, have nothin' to do all day but dress themselves, gossip, walk out, or go a-shoppin', or receive visits at home. They have a'most a grand lime of it, you may depend. If there be any children, why, they can be sent up garret with the helps, out o' the way and out o' hearin', till they are big enough to go to school. They ain't half the plague they be in a private house. But one o' the best things about it is, a man needn't stay at home to entertain his wife a evenings, for she can find company enough in the 'At"' 1 m ! , 26o THE CLOCKMAKER public rooms if she has a mind to, and he can go to the political clubs and colTee-houses, and see arter politics, and inquire how the. nation's agoin' on, and watch over the doin's of Congress. It takes a great deal of time that, and a man can't discharge his duties right to the Stales or the Union either, if he is for ever- lastin'ly tied to his wife's apron-strings. You may talk about the domestic hearth, and the pleasures of home, and the family circle, and ail that 'are sort of thin', Squire. It sounds very clever, and reads dreadful pretty ; but what does it cend in at last ? Why, a scoldin' wife with her shoes down at heel, a see-sawin' in a rocking chair ; her hair either not done up at all, or all stuck chock full of paper and pins, like porcupine quills ; a smoky chimbly a-puttin' of your eyes out ; cryin' children a-screamin' of your ears out ; extravagant, wasteful helps a-emptying of your pockets out, and the whole thing a-wearin of your patience out. No, there's nothin' like a good boardin'-house for married folk ; it don't cost nothin' like keepin' house, and there's plenty o' company all the time, and the womenfolk never feel lonely like when their husbands are not at home. The only thing to lam is the ^;eography of the house well, and know their own number. If they don't do that, they may get into a'most a deuce of a scrape, that it ain't so easy to back out of. I recollect a'most a curious accident that happened that way once, a-gettin' into the wrong room. " I had gone down to Boston to keep 4th of July, our great Anniversary day. A great day that. Squire ; a great national festival ; a splendid spectacle ; fifteen millions of free men and three millions of slaves a-celebratin' the birthday of liberty ; rejoicin' in their strengtii, their freedom and enlightenment. Perhaps the sun never shone on such a sight afore, nor the moon, nor the stars, for their planetary system ain't more perfect than our political system. The sun typifies our splendour ; the moon n its changes figures our rotation of office, and eclipses of Presidents, and the stars are emblems of our "tates, as painted on our flags. If the British don't catch it that day, it's a pity. All over our L/nion, in every town and village, there are orations made, jist about as beautiful pieces of workmanship, and as nicely dove-tailed and mortised, and as prettily put toj.;ether as well can be, and the Englii.h catch it everywhere. All our battles are fought over agin, and yoi: can e'en a'most see the British a-flyin' afore them like the wind, full split, or layin' down their arms as humble as you please, or marchin* off as prisoners tied two and two, like runaway nigi^'ers, as plain as if you was in the engagement, and Washington on his big war horse a-ridin' over them, and our free and enlightened citizens a-skiverin' of them ; or the proud impudent officers a-kneelin' down to him, givin' up their swords, and a-beggin' for dear life for quarter. Then you think you can e'en a'most see that infarnal spy Andrd nabbed and sarched, and the scorn that )t on the brows of our heroes as they threw into THE WRONG ROOM 261 the dirt the money he oiTered to be released, and hear him beg like an Indgian to be shot like a gentleman, and not hanged like a thief, and Washington's noble and maj^nanimous answer — * I guess they'll think us a-feerd if we don't' — so simple, so sublime. The hammerin' of the carpenters seem to strike your ears as they erect the ^'allus ; and then his strugi;les, like a dog tucked up for sheep stealin', are as nateral as life. I must say I do like to hear them orations — to hear of the deeds of our heroes by land and by sea. It's a bright page of history that. It exasperates the young —it makes their blood bile at the wrongs of their forefathers ; it makes them clean their rifles and run their bullets. It prepares them for that great day, that comin' day, that no distant day neitiicr, that must come and will come, and can't help comin', when Britain will be a colony to our great nation, and when your colonies will be states in our Union. " Many's the disputes, and pretty hot disputes too, I've had with minister about these orations. He never would go near one on 'em ; he said they were in bad taste — (a great phrase of his'n that, poor dear good old man ; I believe his heart yarns arter old times, and I most think sometimes he ou;;lit to have joined the refugees). ' Bad taste, Sam. It smells o' braggin', it's ongentlemanly ; and what's worse — it's onchristian.' " But ministers don't know much of this World ; they may know the road to the next, but they don't know the cross-roads and by- paths of this one — that's a fact. But I was aj^oin' to tell you what happened that day — I was stayin' at General Peep's boardin'-house at Boston, to enjoy, as I was a-sayin', the anniversary. There was an amazin' crowd of folks there i the house was chock full of strangers. Well, there was a gentleman and lady, one Major Ebenezer Sproul and his wife, a-boardin' there, that had one child, the most cryenest critter I ever see'd ; it boohoo'd all night a'most, and the boarders said it must be sent up to the garret to the helps, for no soul could sleep a'most for it. Well, most every night Mrs. Sproul had to go up there to quiet the little varmint — for it wouldn't give over yellin' for no one but her. That night, in partikilar, the critter screetched and screamed like Old Scratch ; and at last Mrs. Sproul slipped on her dressin' gownd, and went upstairs to it — and left her door ajar, so as not to disturb her husband a-comin' back ; and when she returned, she pushed the door open softly, and shot it to, and got* into bed. ' He's asleep now,' says she ; ' I hope he won't disturb me agin.' ' No, I ain't asleep, mynheer stranger,' says old Zwicker, a Dutch merchant from Albany (for she had got into the wrong room, and got into liis bed by mistake), * nor I don't dank you, nor General Peep needer, for puddin' you into my bed mid me, widont my leave or lichense, nor approbation, needer. I liksh your place more better as your company. Oh, I got no gimblet 1 Het is jammer, it is a pity 1' Oh, dear ? if she didn't let go, it's a pity ; she kicked and screamed. > f ' mi t 262 THE CLOCK MAKER and carried on like a ravin' distracted bed-bug. 'Tousand teyvels,* said he, * whn* ails te man ? I pelieve he is pewitched.* ' Murder I murder 1* said she, and she cried out at the very tip eend of her voice, ' Murder 1 murder 1' Well, Zvvicker, he jumped out o' bed in an all-fired hurry, most properly frightened, you may depend ; and seezin' her dressin'-gownd instead of his trousers, he put his legs into the arms of it, and was a-runnin' out of the room a-holdin' up of the skirts with his hands, as I can.e in with the candle. * De ferry teyvil hissclf is in te man, and in te trousher too,' said he ; 'for I pelieve te coat has grow'd to it in te night, it is so tam long. Oh, dear, what a pity 1 ' 'Stop,' says I, ' Mister Zwirker,' and I pulled him back by the gownd. (I thought I should a-died a-larfin' to see him in his red night-rap, his eyes a-startin' out o' his head, and those short-legged trousers on, for the sleeves of the dressin'-gownd didn't come further than his knees, with a long taij to 'em.) ' Stop,' says I, 'and tell us what all this everlastin' hubbub is about : who's dead, and what's to pay now ?' "All this time Mrs. Sproul lay curled up like a cat, covered all over in the bed-clothes, a-yellin' and a-screamin' like mad ; 'most all the house was gathered there, some ondressed, and some half- dressed— some had sticks and pokers, and some had swords. * Hullo !' says I, 'who on airth is makin' all this touss?' ' Goten Hymel,' said he, ' old Saydon himself, I do pelieve ; he came tru te door, and jumped right into ped, and yelled so loud in mine ear as to decfen my head a'most. Pull him out by te cloven foot, and kill him, t.im him 1 I had no gimblet, and he know'd it, and dat is te cause, and notin' else.' Well, the folks got hold of the clothes, and pulled and hauled away till her head showed above the sheet. * Dear, dear,' said Major Ebenezer Sproul ; 'if it in't Mrs. Sproul, my wife, as I am alive ! Why, Mary dear, what I ought you here ? — what on airth are you a-doin' of in Mr. Zwicker's room here ?' * I take my nat' she prought herself there,' said Zwicker, * and I peg she take herself away agin so fast as she came, and more faster too. What will Vrou Zwicker say to this woman's tale? — was te liksh ever heerd afore ? Tear, tear, put 'tis too pad 1 ' ' Well, well,' says the folks, ' who'd a-thought it ? — such a steady old gentleman as Mr. Zwicker. And young Marm Sproul,' says they — 'only think of her! — ain't it horrid!' 'The hussy I' says the women house- helps ; 'she's nicely caught, ain't she? She's no great things, anyhow, to take up with that nasty, smoky old Dutchman ; it sarves her right, it does, the good-for-nothin' jade.' *I wo.'ldn't a-had it happen,' says the Major, ' for fifty dollars, I vow ; ' and he walked up and down, and wrimg his hands, and looked streaked enough, you may depend ; ' no, nor I don't know,' said he, ' as I would for a hundred dollars a'most.' 'Have what happened?' says Zwicker ; ' upon my vort and honour and sole, notin' happened, only I had no gimblet. Het as jammer ; it is a pity.' *I went to see the baby,' says Mrs. Sproul, a-sobbin' ready to kill THE WRONG ROOM 263 herself, poor thing! 'and—' 'Well, I don't want, nor have occasion, nor require a nurse,' said Zwicker. — 'And I mistook the room,' said she, * and came here a-thinkin' it was our'n.' ' Couldn't Ee possible,' said he, 'to take me for te papy, dat has papys hisself; ut it was to ruin my character, and name, and reputation. Oh, Goten Hymel ! what will Vrou Zwicker say to dis woman's tale ? But then she know'd I had no gimblet, she did.' Folks snickered and larfed a good deal, I tell you ; but they soon cleared out, and went to bed agin. The story ran all over Boston like wildfire ; nothin' else a'most was talked of, and, like most stories, it grew worse and worse every day. Zwicker returned next mornin' to Albany, and has never been to Boston since ; and the Sprouls kept close for some time, and then moved away to the western ttrri/ory. I actiily believe they changed their name, for I never heerd tell of anyone that ever see'd them since. " ' Mr. Slick,' says Zwicker, the mornin' he started, ' I have one leetle gimblet ; I always travel with my leetle gimblet ; take it mid me wherever I go ; and when I goes to ped, I takes my leetle gimblet out, and bores wid it over te latch of te door, and dat fastens it, and keeps out de tief and de villain and de womans. I left it at home dat time mid de old vrou, and it was all because I had no gimblet de row, and te noise, and te rumpish wash made. Tam it !' said he, ' Mr. Slick, 'tis no use talkin', but tere is always te teyvil to pay when there is a woman and no gimblet.' " Yes," said the Clockmaker, " if they don't mind the number of the room, they'd better stay away ; but a little attention that way oures all. We are all in a hurry in the States ; we eat in a hurry, drink in a hurry, and sleep in a hurry. We all go ahead so fast, it keeps one full spring to keep up with the others ; and one must go it hot foot if he wants to pass his neighbours. Now, it is a great comfort to have your dinner to the minit, as you do at a boardin'- house, when you are in a hurry, only you must look out sharp arler the dishes, or you won't get nothin*. Things vanish like wink. I recollect once when quails first came in that season : there was an old chap at Peep's boardin'-house that used to take the whole dish of 'em, empty it on his plate, and gobble 'em up like a turkeycork — no one else ever got none. We were all a good deal ryled at it, seein' that he didn't pay no more for his dinner than us, so I nick- named him 'Old Quail,' and it cured him ; he always left half arter that, for a scramb. No system is quite perfect. Squire ; accidents will happen in the best regulated places, like that of Marm Sproul's and Old Quail's ; but still there is nothin' arter all like a boardin'- house — the only thing is, keep out of the wrong rootnJ* ,."^.. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A ^ .^% 1.0 I.I "'lis 1^ ■50 "^^ m^H !!^ 1^ IIIIIM 1.8 1.25 1.4 |i.6 ■* 6" ► Wa v^ % A ^ '^ 7 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^' J f/. iP ? ^ 264 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER XXI ...":■' FINDING A MARE'S NEST • ^ Halifax, like London, has its tower also, but there is this remark* able difference between these two national structures, the one is designed for the defenders of the country, and the other for its ^T^nders, and that of the former is as difficult to be broken tn/o as the latter (notwithstanding all the ingenious devices of successive generations from the days of-Julius Caesar to the time of the schoolmaster) is to be broken out of, A critical eye mi^ht, perhaps, detect some other, though lesser points of distinction. This cis-Atlantic martello tower has a more aristocratic and exclusive air than its city brother, and its portals are open to none but those who are attired in the uniform of the guard, or that of the royal staff; while the other receives the lowest, the most depraved, and vulgar of mankind. It is true it has not the lions and other adventitious attractions of the elder one ; but the original and noble park in which it stands is plentifully stocked with carriboos^ while the horn work of the latter is at least equal to that of its ancient rival ; and although it cannot exhibit a display of the armour of the country^ its very existence there is conclusive evidence of the amor Patrice. It stands on an eminence that protects the harbour of Halifax, and commands that of the North-west Arm, and is situated at the termination of a fashionable promenade, which is skirted on one side by a thick shrubbery, and on the other by the water of the harbour ; the former being the resort of those of both sexes who delight in the impervious shade of the spruce, and the latter of those who prefer swimming, and other aquatic exercises. With these attractions to the lovers of nature^ and a pure air, it is thronged at all hours, but more especially at day-dawn, by the valetudinarian, the aged, and infirm, and at the witching hour of moonlight by those who are young enough to defy ilie dew and damp air of night. To the latter class I have long since ceased to belong. Old, corpulent, and rheumatic, I am compelled to be careful of a body that is not worth the trouble that it gives me. I no longer indulge in the dreamy visions of the second nap, for, alas 1 non sum qualis eram. I rise early, and take my constitutional walk to the tower. I had not proceeded more than half-way this morning, before I met the Clockmaker returning to town. " Momin', Squire," said he ; "I suppose you didn't hear the news, did you? the British packet's in." "Which packet?" said I ; "for there are two due, and great apprehensions are entertained that one of them is lost." " More promotion, then," said he, " for them navals that's left : it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good." " Good God I " said I, " Mr. Slick, how can yovr talk so unfeelingly FINDING A mare's NEST 265 V-iii^;' as >,,, ve A,'.'. of such an awful catastrophe ? Only think of the misery entailed by such an event upon Falmouth, where most of the officers and crew have left destitute and distressed families. Poor creatures 1 what dreadful tidings await them I " ** Well^ well," said he, " I didn't jist altogether mean to make a joke of it neither ; but youi folks know what they are about. Them coffin-ships ain't sent out for nothin'. Ten of them gun-brigs have been lost already ; and depend on it, the English have their reasons for it, there's no mistake about it. Considerable cute chaps them ; they can see as far into a millstone as them that picks the hole in it. If they throw a sprat, it's to catch a mackerel, or my name is not Sam Slick." " Reason 1 " I replied. " What reason can there be for consigning so ni^*ny gallant fellows to a violent death and a watery grave ? What couIq justify such a — " " I'll tell you," said the Clockmaker ; " it keeps the natives at home by frightenin' 'em out of their seven senses. Now, if they had a good set of liners, them blue-nose Tories and Radicals would be for everlastingly a-boiherin' of Government with their requests and complaints. Hungry as hawks them fellers ; they'd fairly eat the minister up without salt, they would. It compels 'em to stay at home, it does. Your folks desarve credit for that trick, for it answers the purpose raal complete. Yes, you English are pretty considerable tarnation sharp. You warn't born yesterday, I tell you. You are always a-findin' out some mare's nest or another. Didn't you send out water-casks and filterin' stones last war to the fresA water lakes to Canada ? Didn't you send out a frigate there ready built, in pieces ready numbered and marked, to put together, 'cause there's no timber in America, nor carpenters neither ? Didn't you order the Yankee prisoners to be kept at the fortress of Louisburg, which was so levelled to the ground fifty years before that folks can hardly tell where it stood ? Han't you squandered more money to Bermuda than would make a military road from Halifax to Quebec, make the Windsor Railroad, and complete the great canal ? Han't you built a dockyard there that rots all the cordage and stores as fast as you send them out there ? And han't you to send these things every year to sell to Halifax, 'cause there ain't folks enough in Bermuda to make an auction ? Don't you send out a squadron every year of seventy- fours, frigates, and sloops-of-war, and 'most work 'em to death, sendin* *em to Bermuda to winter 'cause it's warm, and to Halifax to summer 'cause it's cool ; and to carry freights of doubloons and dollars from the West Indgies to England 'cause it pays well, while the fisheries, coastin' trade, and revenue are left to look out for themselves ? Oh, if you don't beat all, it's a pity 1 " Now, what in natur' is the use of them 'are great seventy-fours in peace time on that station ? Half the sum of money one ol them 'are everlastin' almighty monsters cost would equip a dozen spankin' cutters, commanded by leftenants in the navy (and this I i i ii *T i t' :^ r^ t1 1: III i 266 THE CLOCKMAKER will say, though they be Britishers, a smarter set o' men than they be never slept in shoe-leather), and they'd soon set these matters right in two two's. Them seventy-fours put me in mind of Black Hawk, the great Indian chief, that was to Washin'ton lately. He had an alligator tattooed on the back part of one thigh, and a racoon on t'other, touched of to the very nines, and as nateral as anythin' you ever see'd in your life ; and well he knowed it too, for he was as proud of it as anythin'. Well, the President and a whole raft of senators, and a considerable of an assortment of most beautiful ladies, went all over the capital with him showin' him the great buildin's, and public halls, and curiosities, patents, presents, and what not. But Black Hawk, he took no notice of nothin' a'most till he came to the pictur's of our great naval and military heroes, and splendid national victories of our free and enlightened citizens, and them he did stare at ; they posed him considerable, that's a fact. " ' Well, warrior,' said the President, a-rubbing of his hands, and a-smiling, * what do you think of them?' ' Broder,' said Black Hawk, ' them grand ; them live, and breathe, and speak. Them great pictures, I tell you — very great, indeed ; but I got better ones,' said he, and he turned round and stooped down, drew up his mantle over his head. ' Look at that alligator, broder,' said he, and he struck it with his hand till he made all ring again, * and that racoon behind there ; bean't they splendid?' Oh, Lord ! if there warn't a shout, it's a pity 1 The men haw- hawed right out like thunder, and the women ran off, and screamed like mad. ' Did you ever 1 ' said they. ' How ondecent ! Ain't it shockin' ! ' and then they screamed out agin louder than afore. * Oh, dear ! ' said they, * if that nasty, horrid thing ain't in all the mirrors in the foom I ' and they put their pretty little hands up to their dear little eyes, and raced right out into the street. The President he stamped, and bit his lip, and looked as mad as if he could have swallered a wild cat alive. ' Cuss him !' said he, * I've half a mind to kick him into the Potomac, the savage brute ! I shall never hear the last of this joke.' I fairly thought I should have split to see the conflustrigation it put 'em all into Now, that's jist the way with your seventy-fours. When the blue-noses grumbled that we Yankees smuggle like all vengeance, and have all the fisheries on the coast to ourselves, you send 'em out a great seventy-four with a painted stam for 'em to look at, and it is jist about as much use as the tattooed starn of Black Hawk. I hope I may be shot if it ain't. Well, then, jist see how you—" " True," said I, glad to put a stop to the enumeration of our blunders, " but Government have added some new vessels to the packet line of a very superior description, and will withdraw the old ones as soon as possible. These changes are very expensive, and cannot be effected in a moment." "Yes," said he, "eo I have heerd tell ; and I have heerd, too, that the new ones won't lay to, FINDING A MARE'S NEST 267 and the old ones won't scud ; grand chance in a gale for a feller that, ain't it ? One tumbles over in the trough of the sea, and the other has such great solid bulwarks, if she ships a sea she never gets rid of it but by goin' down. Oh, you British are up to everythin' 1 it wouldn't be easy to put a wrinkle on your horns, I know." " They will at least," said I, with more pique than prudence, "last as long as the colonies. It is admitted on all hands now, by Tories, Whigs, and Radicals, that the time is not far distant when the provinces will be old enough for independence, and strong enough to demand it. I am also happy to say that there is every disposition to yield to their wishes whenever a majority shall concur in applying for a separation. It is very questionable whether the expense of their protection is not greater than any advantage we derive from them." " That," said the Clockmaker, " is what I call, now, good sound sense. I like to hear you talk that way, for it shows you partici- pate in the enlightenment of the age. Arter all the expense you have been to in conquerin', clearin', settlin', fortifyin', govemin', and protectin' these colonies from the time they were little miser- able, spindlin' seedlin's up to now, when they have grow'd to be considerable stiff and strong, and of some use, to give 'em up, and encourage 'em to ax for 'mancipation, is, I estimate, the part of wise men. Yes, I see you are wide awake. Let 'em go. They are no use to you. But, I say, Squire" — and he tapped me on the shoulder and winked — " let 'em look out the next mornin' arter they are free for a visit from us. If we don't put 'em thro' their facin's, it's a pity. Tho' they are no good to you, they are worth a Jew's eye to us, and have 'em we will, by gum I "You put me in mind of a British parliament-man that was travellin' in the States once. I see'd him in a steam-boat on the Ohio (a'most a grand river that, Squire ; if you were to put all the English rivers into one, you couldn't make its ditto), and we went the matter of seven hundred miles on till it jined the Mississippi. As soon as we turned to go down that river, he stood, and stared, and scratched his head, like bewildered. Says he, * This is very strange — very strange indeed,' says he. ' What's strange ? ' said I ; but he went on without hearin'. * It's the greatest curiosity,' said he, * I ever see'd, a nateral phenomenon, one of the wonders of the world ;' and he jumped right up and down like a ravin', distracted fool. * Where is it ?' said he. ' What the devil has become of it ?' *If it's your wit,' said I, 'you are lookin' for, it's gone a wool- fatherin' more nor half an hour ago. What on airth ails you,' says , * to make you act so like Old Scratch that way ? ' * Do for goodness' sake look here, Mr. Slick 1 ' said he. * That immense river the Ohio, that we have been sailin' upon so many days, where is it ?' ' Where is it ? ' said I. ' Why, it's run into the Mississippi here, to be sure ; where else should it be ? or did you think it was like a snake, that it curled its head onder its own belly, and run t: m 268 THE CLOCKMAKER back agin?' *But,' said lie, 'the Mississippi arn't made one inch higher or one Inch wider by it ; it don't swell it one mite or morsel ; it's marvellous, ain't it ? ' Well, jist afore that we had been talkin' about the colonies ; so, says I, ' I can tell you. a more marvellous thing than that by a long chalk. " ' There is Upper Canada and Lower Canada, and New Bruns- wick, and Nova Scotia, and Cape Breton, and Prince Edward's Island, and Newfoundland— they all belong to the English.* * Well,' said he, * I know that as well as you do.' * Don't be so plaguy touchy I ' said I, * but hear me out. They all belong to the English, and there's no two ways about it ; it's the best part of America too ; better land and better climate than our'n, and free from yaller fevers, and agues, and nigger slaves, and hostile Indgians, and Lynchers, and alligators, and such like varmint ; and all the trade and commarce of them colonies, and the supply of 'factured goods belong to the English too, and yet I defy any livin' soul to say he can see that it swells their trade to be one inch wider, or one inch higher ; it's jist a drop in the bucket.' * Well, that is strange,' said he ; 'but it only shows the magnitude of British commerce.' * Yes,' says I, *it does: it shows another thing too.' 'What's that?' said he. 'Why,' said I, 'that their commarce is a plaguy sight deeper than the shaller-pated noodles that it belongs to. Do you,' said I, 'jist take the lead line, and sound the river jist below where the Ohio comes into it, and you will find that, though it an't broader or higher, it's an eveilastin' sight deeper than it is above the jinin' place. It can't be otherwise in natur'.' " Now, turn to the Ohio, and let it run down to Baltimore, and you'd find the Mississippi, mammoth as it is, a different guess river from what you now see it. It wouldn't overrun its banks no more, nor break the dykes at New Orleens, nor leave the great Cyprus swamps under water any longer. It would look pretty streaked in dry weather, I know. Jist so with the colony trade ; though you can't see it in the ocean of English trade, yet it is there. Cut it off, and see the raft of ships you'd have to spare, and the thousands of seamen you'd have to emigrate to us ; and see how white about the gills Glasgow, and Greenock, and Liverpool, and Manchester, and Barmin'ham would look. Cuttin' off the colonies is like cuttin' off the roots of a tree ; it's an even chance if it don't blow right slap over the very first sneeze of v/ind that comes ; and if it don't, the leaves curl up, turn yaller and fall off afore their time. Well, the next spring follerin' there is about six fee. of the top dead, and the tips of the^branches withered, and the leaves only half size ; and the year irter, unless it sends out new roots, it's a great leafless trunk, a sight to behold ; and, if it is strong enough to push out new roots, it may revive, but it never looks like itself again. The luxuriance is gone., and gone for ever. " You've got chaps in your Parliament that never see'd a colony, FINDINa A MARE'S NEST 269 and yet get up and talk about 'em by the hour, and look as wise about 'em as the monkey that had seen the world. " In America all our farms a'most have what we call the rough pastur' — that is, a great rough field of a hundred acres or so near the woods, where we turn in our young cattle, and breedin' mares, and colts, and diy cows, and what not, where they take care of themselves, and the young stock grow up, and the old stock grow fat. Ifs a grand cutlet that to thefartn^ that would be over-stocked without it. We could not do without it nohow. Now^ your colonies are a great field for a redundant population^ a grand outlet. Ask the £y::•■ . \.. THE CLOCKMAKER THIRD SERIES CHAPTER I THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE i The communication by steam between Nova Scotia and England will form a new era in colonial history. It '.vill draw closer the bonds of affection between the two countries, afford a new and extended field for English capital, and develop the resources of that valuable but neglected province. Mr. Slick, with his usual vanity, claims the honour of suggesting it, as well as the merit of having, by argument and ridicule, reasoned and shamed the Government into its adoption. His remarks upon the cruelty of employing the unsafe and unfortunate gun-brigs that constituted the line of Falmouth packets, until they severally foundered and disappeared with their gallant crews, are too personal and too severe to be recorded in this place, and the credit he claims for having attracted the attention, and directed the indignation of the public to this disgraceful sacrifice of human life, is so extravagant, that one would suppose this obvious and palpable error had escaped the observation of all the world but himself, and was altogether a new discovery. But, whatever praise he may deserve for his calculations and suggestions, or whatever blame is to be attached to the Admiralty for their obstinate adherence to the memorable " coffin-ships," I prefer looking forward to dwelling on a painful retrospect, and indulging in pleasing anticipations of the future to commenting on the errors of the past. This route, by its connection with that of New York, will afford an agreeable tour, commencing at Halifax, passing through the colonies, and terminating at the Hudson. It will offer a delightful substitute for that of the Rhine and the beaten tracts on th^ Continent. As soon as it was announced that Government had decided upon adopting Mr. Slick's designs, I wrote to him inform- ing him of the fact, and of my intention to proceed to St. John, the State of Maine, New England, and New York, and requested 283 t , 1 «. i i m / 284 THE CLOCKMAKER him to meet me as soon as possible and accompany me on this journey, as I proposed taking passage at the latter place in a steamer for Great Britain. I left Halifax on the loth of May last, and embarked on board of the Greai Western in July. It was the third, and will probably be the last tour on this Continent performed in company with this eccentric individual. During the journey there were few incidents of sufficient irevelty to interest the reader, but his conversation partook of the same originality, the same knowledge of human nature, and the same humour as formerly ; and whenever he developed any new traits of character or peculi- arity of feeling, not exhibited in our previous travels, I carefully noted them as before^ and have now the pleasure of giving them to the public. As a whole they form a very tolerable portrait of an erratic Yankee trader, which, whatever may be the merit of the execution, has at least the advantage, and deserves the praise, of fidelity. The morning I left Halifax was one of those brilliant ones that in this climate distinguish this season of the year, and as I ascended the citadel hill, and paused to look for the last time upon the noble and secure harbour, the sloping fields and wooded hills of Dart- mouth, and the tranquil waters and graceful course of the North West Arm, which, embosomed in wood, insinuates itself around the peninsula, and embraces the town, I thouj^ht with pleasure that the time had now arrived when this exquisite scenery would not only Jje accessible to European travellers, but form one of the termini of the great American tour. Hitherto it has been known only to the officers of the Army and Navy, the former of whom are but too apt to have their first pleasurable impressions effaced by a sense of exile, which a long unvaried round of garrison duty in a distant land so naturally induces ; and the latter to regard good shelter and safe anchorage as the greatest natural beauties of a harbour. After leaving Halifax, the road to Windsor winds for ten miles round the margin of Bedford Basin, which is connected with the harbour by a narrow passage at the dockyard. It is an extensive and magnificent sheet of water, the shores of which are deeply indented with numerous coves and well-sheltered inlets of great beauty. At the distance of seven miles from the town is a ruined lodge, built by his Royal Highness the late Duke of Kent, when com- mander-in-chief of the forces in this colony, once his favourite summer residence, and the scene of his munificent hospitalities. It is impossible to visit this spot without the most melancholy feelings. The tottering fence, the prostrate gates, the ruined grottos, the long and winding avenues, cut out of the forest, over- grown by rank grass and occasional shrubs, and the silence and desolation that pervaded everything around, all bespeak a rapid and premature decay, recall to mind the untimely fate of its noble and tory neig time mori and mela A the mass in \ THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE 285 and lamented owner, and tell of fleeting pleasures, and the transi- tory nature of all earthly things. I stopped at a small inn in the neighbourhood for the purpose of strolling over it for the. last time ere I left the country, and for the induljjence of those moralising musin<;s which at times harmonise with our nerves, and awaken what may be called the pleasurable sensations of melancholy. A modern wooden ruin is of itself the least interesting, and at the same time the most depressmg object imaginable. The massive structures of antiquity that are everywhere to be met with in Europe exhibit the remains of great strength, and though injured and defaced by the slow and almost imperceptible agency of time, promise to continue thus mutilated for ages to come. They awaken the images of departed generations, and are sanctified by legend and by tale. But a wooden ruin shows rank and rapid decay, concentrates its interest on one family, or one man, and resembles a mangled corpse rather than the monument that covers it. It has no historical importance, no ancestral record. It awakens not the imagination. The poet finds no inspiration in it, and the antiquary no interest. It speaks only of death and decay, of recent calamity, and vegetable decomposition. The very air about it is close, dank, and unwholesome. It has no grace, no strength, no beauty, but looks deformed, gross, and repulsive. Even the faded colour of a painted wooden house, the tarnished gilding of its decorations, the corroded iron of its fastenings, and its crumbling materials, all indicate recent use and temporary habitation. It is but a short time since this mansion was tenanted by its royal master, and in that brief space how great has been the devastation of the elements ! A few years more and all trace of it will have disappeared for ever. • Its very site will soon become a matter of doubt. The forest is fast reclaiming its own, and the lawns and ornamented gardens, annually sown with seeds scattered by the winds from the surrounding woods, are relapsing into a state of nature, and exhibiting in detached patches a young growth of such trees as are common to the country. As I approached the house I noticed that the windows were broken out, or shut up with rough boards to exclude the rain and snow ; the doors supported "by wooden props instead of hinges, which hung loosely on the panels ; and that long, luxuriant clover grew in the eaves, which hal been originally designed to conduct the water from the roof, but becoming choked with dust and 'decayed leaves, had afforded sufficient food Iftr the nourishment of coarse grasses. The portico, like the house, had been formed of wood, and the flat surface of its top imbibmg and retaining moisture, presented a mass of vegetable matter, from which had sprung up a young and vigorous birch-tree, whose strength and freshness seemed to mock the helpless weakness that nourished ^ I ,-^f-- ■ 286 THE CLOCKMAKER it.* I had no desire to enter the apartments ; and indeed the aged ranger, whose occupation was to watch over its decay, and to prevent its premature destruction by the plunder of its fixtures and more durable materials, informed me that the floors were unsafe. Altogether the scene was one of a most depressing kind. A small brook, which had by a skilful hand been led over several precipitous descents, performed its feats alone and unob- served, and seemed to murmur out its complaints, as it hurried over its rocky channel to mingle with the sea ; while the wind, sighing through the umbrageous wood, appeared to assume a louder and more tnelancholy wail, as it swept through the long vacant passages and deserted saloons, and escaped in plaintive tones from the broken casements. The offices, as well as the ornamental buildings, had shared the same fate as the house. The roofs of all had fallen in and mouldered into dust ; the doors, sashes, and floors had disappeared ; and the walls only, which were in part built of stone, remained to attest their existence and use. The grounds exhibited similar effects of neglect, in a climate where the living wood grows so rapidly, and the dead decays so soon, as in Nova Scotia. An arbour, which had been constructed of lattice-work, for the support of a flowering vine, had fallen, and was covered with vegetation ; while its roof alone remained, supported aloft by limbs of trees that, growing up near it, had become entangled in its net-work. A Chinese temple, once a favourite retreat of its owner, as if in conscious pride of its preference, had offered a more successful resistance to the weather, and appeared in tolerable preservation ; while one small surviving bell, of the numerous ones that once ornamented it, gave out its solitary and melancholy tinkling as it waved in the wind. How sad was its mimic knell over pleasures that were fled for ever I The contemplation of this deserted house is not without its beneficial effect on the mind ; for it inculcates humility to the rich, and resignation to the poor. However elevated man may be, there is much in his condition that reminds him of the infirmities of his nature, and reconciles him to the decrees of Providence. " May it please your Majesty," said Euclid to his royal pupil, " there is no regal road to science. You must travel in the same path with others, if you would attain the same end." These forsaken grounds teach us in similar terms this consolatory truth, that there is no exclusive way to happiness reserved even for those of the most exalted rank. The smiles of Fortune are capricious, and sunshine and shade are unequally distributed ; but though the surface of life' is thus diversified, the end is uniform to all, and invariably terminates in the grave "Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres." Vs * This was the case when I was there in i8a8 have t>oth disappeared. since then porch and tree THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE 287 Ruins, like death, of which they are at once the emblem and the evidence, are apt to lose their effect from their frequency. The mind becomes accustomed to them, and the moral is lost. The picturesque alone remains predominant, and criticism supplies the place of reflection. But this is the only ruin of any extent in Nova y - Scotia, and the only spot either associated with royalty, or set apart and consecrated to solitude and decay. The stranger pauses at a sight so unusual, and inquires the cause. He learns with surprise ''^■. that this place was devoted exclusively to pleasure ; that care and ^ sorrow never entered here ; and that the voice of mirth and music was alone heard within its gates. It was the temporary abode of a prince — of one, too, had he lived, that would have inherited the , , first and fairest empire in the world. All that man can give or rank enjoy awaited him ; but an overruling and inscrutable Providence decreed, at the very time when his succession seemed rfiost certain, that the sceptre should pass into the hands of another. This intelligencf interests and excites his feelings. He enters, and hears at every step the voice of Nature proclaiming the doom that awaits alike the prince and the peasant. The desolation he sees appals him. The swallow nestles in the empty chamber, and the sheep find a noon-day shelter in the banquet ing-room, while the ill-omened bat rejoices in the dampness of the mouldering ruins. Everything recalls a recollection of the dead ; every spot has its record of the past ; every path its footstep ; every tree its legend ; and even the universal silence that reigns here has an awful eloquence that overpowers the heart. Death is written everywhere. ^ Sad and dejected, he turns and seeks some little relic, some small ^^ memorial of his deceased prince, and a solitary, neglected garden- flower, struggling for existence among the rank grasses, presents a fitting type of the brief existence and transitory nature of all around him. As he gathers it, he pays the silent but touching ,, tribute of a votive tear to the memory of him who has departed, and leaves the place with a mind softened and subdued, but improved and purified by what he has seen. The affectionate remembrance we retain of its lamented owner may have added to my regret, and increased the interest i felt in this lonely and peculiar ruin. In the Duke of Kent the Nova Scotians lost a kmd patron and generous friend. The loyalty of the people, which, when all America was revolting, remained firm and unshaken, and the numerous proofs he received of their attachment to their king and to himself, made an impression upon his mind that was neither effaced nor weakened by time or distance. Should these pages happily meet the eye of a Colonial Minister, who has other objects in view than the security of place and the interest of a party, may they remind him of a duty that has never been performed but by the illustrious individual whose former residence among us gave rise to these reflections.' This work is designed for the cottage, and not for the palace, and \ !i -I ■:l ^i i m *''T^'.' 288 THE CLOCKMAKER the author has not the presumption even to hope it can ever be honoured by the perusal of his sovereign. Had he any f^round for anticipating such a distinction for it, he would avail himselt of this opportunity of mentioning that in addition to the dutiful affection the Nova Scotians have always borne to their monarch, they feel a more lively interest in, and a more devoted attachment to, the present occupant of the throne, from the circumstance of the long and close connection that subsisted between them and her illustrious parent. He was their patron, benefactor, and friend. To be a Nova Scotian was of itself a sufficient passport to his notice, and to possess merit a sufficient guarantee for his favour. Her Majesty reigns therefore in this little province in the hearts of her subjects, a dominion of love inherited from her father. Great as their loss was in being thus deprived of their only protector, her faithful people of Nova Scotia still cling to the hope that Providence has vouchsafed to raise up one more powerful and equally kind in her Majesty, who, following this paternal example, will be graciously pleased to extend to them a patronage that courtiers cannot and statesmen will not give. While, therefore, as prott*gis of her royal house, they claim the right to honour and to serve the sovereign of the empire as " their own Queen" they flatter themselves her Majesty, for a similar reason, will condescend to regard them as ^*' the Queeris oivn^ ■■ \ . . surr ■'■'VL :- i:- CHAPTER II • ^ — PLAYING A CARD "'i - I HAD lingered so long about these grounds that the day was too far spent to think of reaching Windsor before night, and I therefore determined upon whiling away the afternoon in examining, by the aid of a diving-bell, the hulls of several ships of a French fleet, which at an early period of the history of this country took shelter in Bedford Basin, and was sunk by the few survivors of the crews to prevent their falling into the hands of the English. The small-pox, at that time so fatal a scourge to the human race, appearing among them soon after their arrival, nearly depopulated the fleet, destroyed the neighbouring village, and swept oiT one- third of the whole tribe of Nova Scotia Indians. So dreadful a mortality has never been witnessed on this continent, and the number of strangers thus suddenly smote with death at this place exceeded by several thousands the amount of the population of the country in which they were interred. Of one of the most powerful armaments ever fitted out by France, a few hundred of persons only survived to return to their native land to tell the sad tale of their misfortunes. The ships are still distinctly visible is PLAYING A CARD 289 The whole scene is melancholy interest, fatal cncamptuent, u/ calm weather, and the rising ground in the neighbourhood, where the DiU. broke down the other day in the House of Representa/iV^j, and made a proper gag of yourself. I am very sorry for you, very sorry indeed ; but it is no use now a-cryin' over spilt milk. What can't be cured must be endured, I do suppose ; but I do wish with all my heart and soul you had a-taken my advice and left politicks alone.' * Don't mention it, Minister,' said I ; 'I am ashamed to death of myself, and shall leave Slickville till it's blowed over and forgot : I can't bear to hear of it ; it fairly makes me sick. It was (i great card I had tho', if I had only played it rights says I, *a \&cy great card indeed. In fact it was more than a card—xi was high^ low^ Jack^ and the gams! * What was it,' said he, * that was worth all that 'are nonsense V * Univarsal suffrage,* says I. * Sam,' said he (and I know'd I was in for a lectur*, for he knit his brow, and looked in raal right-down airnest), ' you don't know what you arc a-talkin' about. Do you know what univarsal suffrage means ? ' * To be sure I do,' says I ; ' it's every man havin' a vote and a voice in makin' those laws that is to govern him ; and it comports with reason, and stands to common sense.' * Well,' says he, ' what's all that when it's fried ? why, it amounts to this, and nothin' more nor less : Now men of property and character make laws to govern rogues and vagabonds^ but by your bea«tiful scheme of univarsal suffrage, rogues and vagabonds will make laws to govern men of property and character. It is revarsin' the order of things. It is worse than nonsense ; it is downright madness. We are fast approaching this state, without your aid, Sam, I can tell you ; and when we do arrive at it, we shall be an object of scorn to point at from Europe. We shall then have wound up the fearful tragedy of our revolution with as precious a farce as folly and licentiousness ever produced.' * Minister,' says I, 'I don't know how it is, but you have such a short-hand way of puttin' things, that there is no contradictin' of you. You jist squeeze all the argument up in a ball, as easy as dough, and stop a feller's mouth with it. How the plague is it that you seem always right ? ' * Because I never play a card^ Sam. I never consider what is expedient^ but what is right; never study what will tickle the ears of people^ but what will pro- mote their welfare. You would have been all straight too, if you had only looked to the right and wrong of the measure ; but you looked \.Q popularity^ and that sot you to playiti of a card. Now the upshot of this popular gambling, or card-playing^ is patriotism ; and mark my words, Sam, mark my words, my boy, for I am an old man now, and have read the human heart well — in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, patriotism is the trump card of a scoundrel? ** t: 296 THE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER III r BEHIND THE SCENES . . * - It is not to be supposed that Mr. Slick had ever made such an absurd exhibition of himself in the Legislative Hall of Slickville as he thought proper to portray in the anecdote related in the last chapter. He was evidently a man of too much tact and natural good sense to have rendered himself so ridiculous ; nor must we, on the other hand, attribute his making himself the hero of the tale to an absence of vanity, for few men had a greater share of it than himself. It probably arose from his desire to avoid person- alities, and an amiable anxiety not to furnish a traveller with names that might hereafter appear in print to the annoyance of the real actors. Indeed, so rich did he think himself in experience and knowledge of the world, that he felt he could afford to draw at will on his own reputation. How true to nature is the graphic sketch in the last chapter, and how just the reflections to which it gave rise 1 I can call to mind so many instances, even in my own limited sphere of observation, to which his remarks are applicable, that I recognise at once the fidelity of the picture and the hand of a master. Upon my expressing to him an intention to record his illustration of "playing a card" as a valuable lesson in life — "Ah, sir," said he, with the air of a man who felt he had a right to boast, "I have larned to 'look behind the scenes.' Major Bradford taught me that airly in life. It was him put that wrinkle on my horn. He was the gentleman that traded in calves and punkins for the Boston market, him that you've got down in your firs^ series, that took me to the TV^mont House, the time the gal lost her runnin-riggin' in the crowd. Well, one arternoon, havin' nothin' above pitikilar to do, I goes and dresses myself up full fig, and was a=postin* away as hard as I could leg it, full chisel down by the Mall in Boston to a tea and turn-out at Sy Tupper's. Sy had an only darter called Desire ; she warn't a bad-lookin' piece of farniture neither; folks said she would have fifty thousand dollars, and to tell you the truth I was a-thinkin' of spekelating there, and was a-scouterin' away as hard as I could leg it to the party. Who should I meet on the road but the Major, a-pokin' along with his cocoanut down, a-studyin' over somethin' or another quite deep, and a-workin' up the baccy in great style, for nothin' a'most will make a man chaw like cypherin' in his head to himself. * Hullo, Major,' said I, ' who's dead, and what's to pay now? why, what's the matter of you ? you look as if you had lost every freend you had on airth.' ' H'are you, boy ? ' said he : ' give us youi ^ iij and then tell us which way you are a-sailin' of this fine day, will you ?' But jist as I was a-goin' to take hold of his hand, he drew i: ' !• BEHIND THE SCENES 297 .1 f back the matter of a yard or so, and eyed me all over from head to foot, as if he was a-measurin' me for a wrastlin' bout. " Says he, ' I'll bet you a five-dollar piece, Sam, I know where you are a-goin' tonight.' 'Done,' said I, 'it's a bargain : now, where .?' ' A-whalin',' says he. ' A what I ' says I. ' On a whalin' voyage,' said he. 'Hand out your five dollars,' says I, 'for you missed your guess this hitch anyhow. I am a-goin' down to Sy Tupper's to tea and spend the tvenin'. 'Exactly,' said he, 'goin' a-gallin* ; I knowed it, for you are considerably large print, and it don't take spectacles to read you. She is rich in iles, that gal ; her father made his money a-whalin', and folks call her " Sy Tupper's spermaceti." Bah ! she smells of blubber that greasy-faced heifer ; let her bide where she be, Sam. You han't been ''''behind the scenes yet," I see, and that screetch-owl in petticoats, Mother Tupper, is an old hand. She will harpoon you yet, if you don't mind your eye ; now mark what I tell you. Come with me to the iht-aire, and I'll show you a gal of the right sort, / know. Helen Bush comes on in tights to-night. She is a beautiful-made critter that, clean-limbed and as well made as if she was turned in a mould. She is worth lookin' at, that's a fact ; and you don't often get such a chance as that 'are.' ' Dear, dear,' said I, ' in tights 1 well, if that don't beat all I I must say that don't seem kinder nat«ral now, does it Major?' * Nateral 1 ' said he, ' what the devil has natur' got to do with it ? If she followed natur* she wouldn't wear nothin' at all. Custom has given women petticoats and men pantaloons, but it would be jist as nateral for women to wear the breeches and men the apron-string, and there is a plaguy sight of them do it too. Say it ain't modest and I won't non-concur you, but don't talk about natur', for natur' has no hand in it at all. It has neither art nor part in it, at no rate. But take my advice, my green-horn, and study natur' a bit. Folks may talk of their Latin and Greek till Ihey are tired, but give me natur'. But to study it right you must get " behind the scenes " ; so come along with me to the house.' " Well, I never was to a theatre afore in all my life, for minister didn't approbate them at no rate, and he wouldn't never let me go to 'em to Slickville ; so thinks I to myself, ' I don't care if I do go this once ; it can't do me no great harm, I do suppose, and a gal in tights is something new ; so here goes,' and I turns and walks lock-and-lock with him down to the play-house. Well, I must say it was a splendid sight, too. The house was chock full of company, all drest out to the very nines, and the lamps was as bright as day, and the musick was splendid, that's a fact, for it was the black band of the militia (and them blacks have most eles^ant ears for musick too, I tell you), and when they struck up our blood-stirrin' national air, it made me feel all over in a twitteration as if I was on wires a'most, considerable martial. ■^1 ;i I % 298 THE CLOCKMAKER " But what gave me the gapes was the scenes. Lord, Squire, when the curtain drawed up, there was Genesee Falls as nateral as life, and the beautiful four-storey grist-mills taken off as plain as anything, and Sam Patch jist ready to take a jump in the basin below. It was all but raal, it was so like life. The action too was equal to the scenes ; it was dreadful pretty, I do assure you. Well, arter a while, Helen Bush came on in tights ; but I can't say I liked it ; it didn't seem kinder right for a gal to dress up in men's clothes that way, and I sorter thort that nothin' a'most would tempt me to let Sister Sal show shapes arter that fashion for money. But somehow or somehow-else, folks hurrawed and clapped and cheered like anything. It was so excitin' I hurrawed too, at last, as if I was as well pleased as any of them, for hoUerin' is catcliin', like barkin* among dogs, and you can't help it nohow you can fix it. Well, arter legs lost their novelty, a whole lot o' dancin' gals came forward and danced guo(f-dn\\s, gallop-pards, hornpipes, and what not, the most beautiful critturs, I think, I ever laid my eyes on — all young and bloomin', and graceful and light as spirits a'most. They seemed as if they e'en a'most belonged to another guess world from our'n, only the rosy cheeks and bare necks, and naked arms, and dear little ankles, all smacked of raal life. " * What do you think oithemV said the Major ; 'han't they fine glass-spun heels, them critturs. I guess you don't often see such fetlocks in Slickville as them ; for your gals, if I don't mis- remember, are rather beefy about the instep. What do you think of them, my boy, eh ? ' ' Think ? ' says I. * Why, I never see'd the equal of it. Where the plague did they pick up such a lot of elegant gals ? they are horrid pretty, I must say : are they foreigners or n^Xives f ' * NatzVt«- * "When you double Cape Horn, as yer in hopes for to do, •» There's a-plenty of sparm whale on the coast of Peru."" What a life for a man, to be the wick of an ile lamp, ain't it ? and have your wife snuffing you with her fingers. It's as bad as having your onquostionable ugly nose pulled. Oh, yes, take her, by all means, only get " behind the scenes " first ; you have only sce'd her yet of an evenin', and then she was actin' rigged out for a p rty, a-smilin' and a-doin' sweet and pretty, and a-wearin' of her com- pany face, and singin' like a canary bird. But go into "the green- room," see her of a mornin', get a peep at a family scene, drop in on 'em of a sudden, onexpected like, and see the old cat and her kitten a-caterwaulin' and clapper-clawin*' each other till they make the fur fly, and you will be jist as much dumfoundered as you was at the dancin' gals : you won't know her, that's a fact ; you'll find that your beautiful "spermaceti" has turned cut nothing but tallow, and damn bad tallow, too. Such critturs rui. more nor half away to waste, and give more grease than light, by a long chalk. But come,' said he, * s'posin' you and me settle our little account, for short reckonings make long friends, as the sayin' is. First, there is your five dollar bet ; then six bottles of iced champagne, at three dollars each, is eighteen dollars more ; and then two dollars for tickets, makes a total of twenty-five dollars ; do you undercum- stand ? Come into the iseter shop here, and plank the pewter, and I will go sheers with you for a supper of iseters. It's a consider- able of a dear lesson that ; but it's the best you ever got, / know.* * Dear ! ' said I, a-countin* out of the money to him, * I guess it is dear. If all my schoolin' in town-ways is to cost at that rate, I guess I'll have more larnin' than capital when I get thro' my trainin'. Twenty- five dollars for bein' made a fool on, for them dancin' gals to laugh at for two hours 1 What a pretty go that is, ain't it ? I must say I don't thank you a bit. Major ; It warn't pretty at all.' ' Who the devil axed you for thanks ? * said he. ' You have done better — you have paid for it, man ; and boughten wit is always the best. But you will thank me for it BEHIND THE SCENfcS 301 some o' these days, see if you don't. It's better 1 bt mad' i fool on for two hours than for life. I have known a r Icr siliy . '»• ^h to marry a dancin' gal afore now ; but then he'd nev«i >ctM " behind the scenes,'' as you have. Ye», it's a valuable le.tso* that. Your old fogey of a parson that you are always a-talkin of, old Hop — Hope— somethin,'; or other — may preach away to you till he is blind, but he can't lam you anything equal to that. It's a lesson from life, and a lesson from life is worth a hundred sarmons. In everything a'most, Sam, you arc either deceived or liable to be can't trust even the evidence of your in this world, consider deceived, and that you own senses unless you But come,' said he ; * preachin' is not "look behind the scenes.' my trade. Let us walk into half a bushel of these iseters. They are raal salts ; they come from Nova Scotia, and better than any we have, or the British either.' And we sot-to, and did justice to them — at least Ae did, you may depend. He walked 'em into him as a duck does a June bug. He could open, pepper, and swaller a dozen to my one, for somehow I never could get my knife into the jmt of one until arter half-an-hour's bunglin' ; I hadn't got the knack. 'You don't seem to like them,' said he at last, a-drawin' breath, and a-swallerin' a gill of pure whisky ; * p'raps you are too patriotic to eat blue-noses' iseters, and prefer the free citizens of our own beds ? ' * No,' said I, ' it an't that ; I can't open them, they are so oncommon tight about the jaws.* * Hem 1* said he; ' I forgot that. You never see'd an iseter, I do suppose, or a dancin^ gal nother, afore to-night. Do as I do, younker. This is the way : freeze down solid to it ; square up to it, as if you was a-goin' to have an all-outdoor fight of it,' and he slipped *em out o' the shells into his mouth as fast as a man dealin' cards, until he fairly finished all we had. 'You don't drink,' said he. 'Now, that's not wholesome ; you ought to take enough of the neat liquor to make 'em float light on the stomach,' and he just tipt off the balance of the whisky without winkin'. * Ah I ' said he, making a wry face, ' that's no go. That last iseter was not good ; it's upsot me a'most. Call for some more, and I'll be in agin in a minit. I must go into the air, for I feel dizzy.' Well, I called for some more iseters and some more whisky, and I sot and worked away at my leisure, and waited for him to come back and pay his share of the shot. Well, I waited and waited for ever so long, till I e'en a'most fell asleep ; and still no Major. At last I be^'an to get tired, so I knocks on the table with the handle of a knife for the nigger-help. * Snowball,' says I, ' have you seen anything of the Major? Where on airth is he? I'm waitin' for him. to settle the bill.' ' Massa hab to wait, den, one berry long time, sar. De last iseter, sar, he always fix Major's flint, sar, and make him cut his stick. You won't see him no more, sar,' and he grinned from ear to ear like a Chessy cat. ' De bill is four dollar, massa, and a quarter-dollar for Snowball.' * Hein 1 ' says I to myself, ' a nod is 1 Mi .lj % ih. m 302 THE CLOCKMAKER as good as a wink to a blind horse. I see it now; I'm bilked.' So I paid it, and said no more on the subject. That was another ' peep behind the scenes,' that * he who incurs jint expenses should look to the honesty and solvency u{ his partners.' " I didn't grudge the money for what I lamed tliat night, altho' it came to a horrid sum too—twenty-nine dollars and a Quarter— for it's worth every cent of it, that's a fact. But what aid touch me to the quick was this : he drew the wool over my eyes so about Desire Tupper that I gin up agoin' there, and then he cut in there and got the prize hisself; he did, upon my soul 1 All that talk about her temper was made out of whole cloth, and got up a-purpose, along with her nickname of * Spermaceti,' to put me out of consait of her ; and it answered the purpose most beautiful. Yes, he did me most properly all the way through the chapter. But p'raps it will all turn out right in the long run, for I was too young then to marry, or to handle so much money, for * light come ' is plaguy apt to turn out • light: go.' But at the time I was most peskily ryled, I tell you ; and if I had a-see'd him when I was so oncommon wrathy, I do believe, in my soul, I should have tanned his jacket for him, so that he would have been a caution to behold. I am a good-natcr'd man, and can bear spittin' on ; but hang me if I can stand and have it rubbed in that way. I didn't know what to do when 1 got home, whether to tell the story or not ; but I knew it would leake out, and thought my own varsion of it would be the best, so I jist ups and tells father all about it, from first to last. ' He is a nasty, dirty, low-lived, mean feller,' says father, * and a disgrace to the commission, though one comfort is, he ain't a reg'lar, and never see'd sarvice, and I dispise an officer that has never smelt powder. No man in the country but a veteran desarves the name of soldier, and them, it ain't no vanity to say, are the first troops in the univarse — for the British have whipped all the world, and we whipped them. Yes, he is a scoundrel,' said the old man ; * but still the information you got is worth havin'. It is a knowledge of the world, and that is invaluable ; although, from what I see'd in the wars, I am most afeerd a man of the world ain't a man of much heart in a gineral way. Still, the knowin' it is worth the larnin' it. Acquire it, Sam, if you can ; but you mus'n't pay too dear for it. Now, the Major gin more for his wit than you.' 'Possible?' said I; 'why, how is that?' *Why,' says father, ' he bought his at the expense of his charrttter, lild the leastest morsel of char^-rter in the world is worth mor?! nor all that is to be lamt " behind the scenes.^^ ' '' %'V^ ;^:^^:':. v^-'" * j THE BLACK BROTHER 303 • CHAPTER IV % •»... THE BLACK DROTHER •' Yes, Squire," said the Clockmaker, " there is nolhin' like lookin' ' behind the scenes ' in this world. I rather pride myself on that lesson of Major Biadford. It came airly in life, and was, as he sairK the best lesson I ever had. It made me an obsarvin' man. It taught me to look into things considerable sharp. I've given you a peep behind the scenes in Assembly matters, so that you can judge how far patriots and reformers show the painted face ; and at the theatre what devils little angels of dancin' gals turn out sometimes ; and now I'll tell you a story of 'the lilack Brother,' to show you how cantin' fellers can carry two faces also, when they choose, for I've been ' behind the scenes ' there, too. I mentioned to you afore, if you recollect, that we had a split once in Slickville in our congregation about the voluntary, and that some of the upper-crust folks went off in a huff, and joined the * Christian Banc!,' as they call themselves, or the ' Awakencrs,' as we call 'em. Well, these folks went the whole fi^ur*, and from bein' considerable proud men, affected great humility, and called each other ' Brother,' and only associated with each other, and kept the rest of mankind off at arm's-length, as if they were lost ones, and it would contaminate them, like, to keep company with them. It broke poor old minister's heart a'most, for Ihey parsecutcd him arterwards most dreadful ; there was nothin' too bad for them a'most to say of the old church, for in a gineral way them that secede don* t go off in peace ^ but go off armed for a fight ^ as if they expected to be chased and brought back again. Pride and temper is almost always at the bottom of schism^ you will find. Ahab Meldrum was one of these superfine, overly-good men, and jist about as parfect a specimen of a hypocrit as I e'en a'most ever came across in all my travels. Well, I was to Ahab's one day, a-settlin' some business with him, and a pretty tough job I had of it — for you might as well drag out an eye-tooth without lancin' the gum as to drag a debt out of these whitewashed gentlemen — and who should come in but a scentoriferous black man, his woolly head all done up in roll curls, like cotton in the cardin' mills, and a large shovel-hat in his hand, and wearin' a fine frill shirt, and Iressed off to the very nines ; for a nigger is as fond of finery Is a peacock is of his tail. They are for spreadin* it out and Ji-struttin' about in it for ever and ever a'most. If there was a fhing on airth that Ahab hated like pyson, I do believe it was a great bull-nigger, so seein' him come in, in that free-and-easy manner, he looks up at him quite stiff— for the better a man is, the prouder he grows in a gineral way — and, without biddin' him the time o' day (which wouldn't 'a hurt him one morsel, the* '4 504 THE CLOCKMAKER the crittur was as black as Comingo), or movin' from his chair« or ajiin' him to sit down, says he, ' Well, sir, what brought you here ; what's your business ? ' It made me laugh, for 1 knew humility was the dress coat of firide^ and that we was a-goin* to have a scene, for I see'd by the cut of the feller's jib that he was a preacher. ' O massa,' said he, ' I is a broder labourer in de Lord's wineyard, de on worthy' — (and he made a bow at that word, as much as to say, there is a peg for you to hang a compliment on if you like) — 'de onworthy shepherd ob de little flock of free colour'd Christians to Martin Vanburmville. I jist call'y, massa broder, to cossult you about some business ob "our little Christian band."' * Sit down, sir, if you please,' says Ahab, a-colourin' up like anything, for he see'd his own professions was set like a fox-trap afore him, and he knew it was nuts to me, and that I wouldn't spare him one mite or morsel. 'Sit down, sir.' 'Tankey, sar, tankey,' said Dr. Qu'-ry, for that was the nickname the crittur went by ; * bow is all your consarns, and your leetle flock? I hope dey is all well, and none on 'em jumpin' de fence, and gettin' out o' de fold, among neighbour's sheeps : mine gib me great bodder dat way, werry great bodder indeed. Mine all shockin' fond ob musick, and go whereber dere is de best singin' ; but I believe we may stump any sec for dat, and werry fond ob Greek too.' ' Of Greek ! ' said Ahab, who was dumfoundered at the turn things took ; * did you say Greek ? ' * Yes, massa,' said the Doctor, * of Greek ; ' and he took an old well-worn grammar from his pocket, and openin' it, said : ' Broder,' said he, ' what you call him ? ' pintin' to a pitikilar word. ' That,* said Ahab, who I see'd was a-gittin' of his dander up quite fast, *that is ^^ eureeka."* 'Ah,' said the Doctor, * I know him by sight, but I no recollect his name ; by golly 1 but Greek him werry hard, werry hard indeed. I try to larn a few words, for dey sounds well in de pulpit, and look grand. Coloured people no thinkey you know nottin' if you no gib em hard words sometimes ; and Broder Sly, he teach me to say 'em. Well, Broder Meldrum,' he says, at last, * I is glad I "eureeka" you at home ; here is de superscription for de new meetin' house ; put you fist to dat, broder, and come down like a man han'sum'.' Poor Ahab, he shrunk from the touch as if it was hot iron, and from the subscription paper too, as if it was his death-warrant. ' Brother,' said he, and that word brother stuck in his crop, so he had to cough twice afore he could get it out, and smelt so strong in his nose he had to take out his handkerchief, all scented with musk, to get clear of the fog'- of it, ' here are two dollars.' ' O massa brudder,' said Blackey, * only two dollars 1 By golly I but I gin five myself. Member, sar, he what gibs to de church, lends to de Lord. Come, brudder, mend de figur*, dat's a good soul ; you won't be one morsel de poor of it in de long run, you may depend.' But Ahab was tough. Stickin' a subscription paper into a very strait-laced man, even for building a schism-shop for his own folks, is like stickin' a needle behind an ox's car, it THE BLACK BROTHER 305 ai ^f, le a »» •n S kills him dead on the spot. ' The labourer is worthy of his hire, broth — broth — ' he couldn't come it a second time, so he gin it up in despair — ' worthy of his hire, sir. You were wrong, very wrong, sir, to do it ; the congregation should do their own work themselves.' * Well, well,' said Blackey, a good deal disconsarted at the failure of his application, ' p'raps you is right, brudder, p'raps you is right ; you noes better den us poor coloured folks does. I has see'd a pfreat deal of trouble lately, brudder,' said Query. ' My congregation is the most difficultest to manage I did ever see (pitikilarly de fair sec), and has had a split in it. Dat everlastin' sinner, and crooked 'sciple of a nigger, Ben Parsons, dat is too lazy to work hisself, de good-for-notten feller, he tinks he preach better nor me, de consaited fool ! and he sot up for hisself, and seceded, and I lose twenty dollars a year of my livin' by him, and some o' my best singers too. Cato Cooper's three daughters, Cleopatra, Portia, and Juno, all left to foller arter de young preacher, and dey had mos superfine voices, better nor most nigga wenches has, and sing as well as tea^re women, dey did. Yes, it's lucky for massa Ben I is a Christian man, dat uses no carnal weapon, or I'd feel his short ribs for him, and take my change out of his hide, de villain. * " De Raccoon ^n to scratch and bite, ' I hitty once wid all ma might, ■ I bungy eye and spile his sight, Oh. /j* de child to fight I " \ But I is a new man now wid de ungenerate heart, and only fight Old Scratch, Old Adam, or old sin, but not a brudder in de flesh — no, naber, I ain't goin' get mad no more. • "For little childer neber let De angry passions rise, ^"'' Your little hands were neber made To tear each Oder's eyes. " Nothin' else save him from catchin' it, for I is de boy dat could do it. Lord, I'd run him foul of a consternation, afore he know'd what was de matter of him. Temper, him werry trong, and say cuss him, bung up both he eye, and put in de dead lite ; but I is a preacher now, and religion advise werry different, and say, *' Let him go to de debil his own way, de willain." He ain't worth powder and shot, and dat is de fack, for he is more crookeder in his ways nor a dog's hind le I e n F THE BLACK BROTHER 307 11, .b ji- ^i" ■■ i^: m- block ; so he separated the jintes of his flute, put them in his pocket, and rose to depart. '* Now, Squire," continued the Clockmaker, " p'raps you don't know, for you can't have sec'd much of the blackb, but what I'm goin' for to tell you is a fact, I assure you. When a nigger is frightened or vexed there is a parfume comes from him that's enough to stifle you. If you don't believe me, ask Lord — Lord — what the plague is his name, that was out to the West Inj::ees? Well, dancin' the emancipation dance with a black heifer there e'en a'most killed him. It did, upon my soul, it all but pison'd him. It's awlul, that's a fact. Well, this crittur Query so filled the room with it, it 'most choked me. I was glad to see him get up for to go, 1 tell you ; but what does he do but come round to Ahab to take leave of him. ' Brudder,' said he, ' fare-de-well, peace be wid you, my lubbin' fren' ; ' and he held out his great ily black paw to shake hands with him. Poor Ahab ! he looked like a crittur that is a-goin' lo be put in the stocks, resigned to his fate because he couldn't help himself, but mean enough too. He prided himself on his hand, did Ahab, it was so small and so white. He used to say it was 'ristocratic, and that it would be a foriin for a single man like him in England ; and he actilly slept in gloves lined with pomatum to keep the freckles off^; I hope I may be shot if he didn't. He was top- gallant-sail proud of them, I tell you ; so he looked at the great piece of raw nigger-meat that was afore him with horror ; and arter makin' all sorts of wry faces- at it, as a gal does when she takes physic, he shut his eyes and dropped his hand into it. Oh 1 it was beautiful ! It did me good to see the hypocrite worked up in that way. Query shook and wrung away at it as a washwoman does at a wet towel or ever so long ; and at last he let go his hold and went ofl", and Ahab drew in his hand all stained yaller, as if it had been dipped into tobacco juice. He held it out from him at arm's-length, as a feller does that falls into the dirt, and a-bitin' in his breath, and curlin' up his nose as mad as a bear with his tail shot off", and went into the bedroom and washed and scrubbed away at it like anything. When he was gone, I opened the winders and ventilated the room, for it smelt as bad as one of the narrer alleys in Old Town Edinbro', or a slave-ship. It was shocking nosey, I tell you. As soon as he came back, says he, ' Sam, that poor feller means well, but he has mistaken his calling ; he has too much levity, I fear, for a minister.' *I give you joy,' says I, *of your new "brudder" and "feller-labourer in de wineyard." It sarves you right, so it does. If you had a' stuck to your own church you wouldn't a' had to endure what you jist went thro', / know. No bishop would ordain that man, for he would see with half an eye he had no sense, and warn't no way fit for it at all except to make things look ndikilous ; but if anybody can go and choose preachers that please, as they do hogreeves at town meetin', why 3o8 THE CLOCKMAKER can't niggers elect whom they please too? It's a bad rule that won't work both ways. This comes o' schism ; one error always leads to another. Now don't, for goodness' sake, make such ever- lastin' pretences as you do, unless your prac/zV^ keeps up to your professions. I hate hypocrites, and I won't spare you. Whenever folks talk of you and the Slickville schism, hang me if I don't tell 'em of the Black Brother.' " CHAPTER V .^ ; * THE GREAT UNKNOWN . ' ,i "Well, Squire," said the Clockmaker, "I'm glad you are goin* to England too. I can guide you thro' Britain as well as I can thro' the States, or the Provinces, for I've been there often ; I know every part of it. They are strange folks, them English. On pitikilars they know more than any people; but on generals they are as ignorant as owls. Perhaps there ain't no place in the world where such nonsense is talked as in Parliament. They measure everyone by themselves, as father did about his clothes. He always thought hisn ought to Jit all his boys, and proper laughing stocks he made of us. Yes, you have made the Yankees and the blue-noses. Squire, look pretty considerable foolish in them two books of your'n. Stand on t'other tack now, and take a rise out of the British ; for fair play is a jewel, that's a fact. John Bull had been a-larfin' at us until his sides heaved like a broken-winded horse. Clap the currycomb on him now, and see if his hide is thicker than our'n ; for he is always a-sayin' that the Yankees are the most thin-skinned people in the world. There is a grand field in that country, you may depend, and a noble harvest for you. Walk into 'em with your sickle, and cut and bind till you are tired ; you will find employment enough, I tell you. We may have our weak points — and I should like to know who the plague hasn't — but John has both his weak spots and soft spots too, and I'll pint 'em out to you, so that you can give him a sly poke that will make him run foul of consternation afore he knows it. I'll show you how to settle his coffee for him without a fish-skin, I know ; so begin as soon as you can, and as much sooner as you have a mind to." On my own part, I was no less pleased to have him with me, for few men in British America have so intimate a knowledge of the character, feelings, and prejudices of the people of the colonies as Mr. Slick, or a more clear conception of the policy that ought to be pursued towards them by the mother-country. So strongly was I impressed with this Conviction, that I could not help expressing to him a hope that circumstances might arise during our visit to England to bring him in contact with some of -%v THE GREAT UNKNOWN 309 the leading members of Parliament, as I felt assured he could give most valuable and useful information on a subject which, though of immense importance, was but little understood. " Lord, sir," said he, " I've seen some on 'em when I was there afore (for I've been three times to England and know it well) ; but they didn't want the right information, and so I bammed them : they didn't want facts to make opinions on, but facts to tally with opinions formed, like British travellers in the States, and I always stuff such folks. I had a most curious ventur* when I was last in London. " I had been down city all day a-skullin' about, and trampoos- ing everywhere a'most to sell some stock in the canal that is to run through the pine barrens in the Quahog Territory, that I bought for half nothin', and wanted to put off to advantage, and returned to my lodgings awful tired, and as wet-footed as a duck. I had jist drawed off my boots, got snug afore the fire, with a cigar in my mouth, and my feet on the back of a chair, a-toastin' of them to the coals, when the sarvent-maid opened the door, and a gentleman entered, a-bowin' very ginteel, and sayin', * Mr. Slick, I prei:ume.' * Well,' says I, ' I won't say I ain't ; but won't you com(j to an anchor and be seated. You must excuse me,' says I, *a-gittin' up, for my feet is wet.' Well, he sot down and eyed me from head to foot, as if he thought I was a little onderbaked, or not altogether right famished in the upper storey. ' Our humid climate,' says he, at last, ' must be very different from the cloudless sky and pure air of Nova Scotia.' * Very,' says I ; 'it rains here for everlastingly. I have only seen the sun once since I came here, and then it looked as if it had the cholera in the black stage ; but my feet is what I complain of most. Now, at home I wear ingian-rubbers ; but they don't do on the pavements here, for they make you slide about as if you was on the ice. I had to leave them off, for I pitched into everyone I met a'most, and it warn't pretty at all.' 'How long is it,' said he, 'since you left Nova Scotia?' Thinks I to myself, 'What in natur' is this crittur after. I'll just draw him out by doin' simple.' Now that is natur\ Squire. If ever you want to read a man, do simple, and he thinks he has a soft horn to deal with ; and while he s'poses he is a-playin' you off, you are puttin' the leake into him without his seein' it. Now, if you put on the knowin', it puts him on his guard directly, and he fights as shy as a loon. Talkin' cute looks knavish ; but talkin' soft looks sappy. Nothin' will make a feller bark up a wrong tree like that : so, without answerin' to ti e pint (that I might bring him to his business), says I — ' For wet feet there is nothin' like toastin' them afore the fire : it draws the cold out, and keeps it from flyin' to the stomach, and saves you a fit of the mulligrubs p'raps. I larnt that from the Ingians ; they always sleep with their feet to the fire, and at night lays all in a circle round it like the spokes of a wheel. I never yet see'd an Ingian ■I '1.1 310 THE CLOCKMAKER with a cold in his nose.' ' How very good,' said he ; * what a close | observer of natur* you are, sir. I shall remember that recipe of yours ; it is excellent.' As much as to say, well, if you don't beat Solomon, I bean't nobody. Thinks I to myself, * I dare say you will mind it, but more to laugh at than foUer, at any rate.' "At last, says he, thinkin' it was time to come to the pint, * I am desired, sir, by a distinguished friend of mine, to request the favour of you to give him an interview whenever it may be con- venient to you, as he has heard much of your knowledge of the provinces, and is anxious to get all the information he can pre- ' vious to the Canada question coming on for discussion.' * Hem ! ' says I to myself, ' I wonder whether this is fact or bam. " It don't seem to hang very well together nother, but it mought be a bee for all that," as the old woman said when she looked into the hornet's nest for honey.' So to prove him, says I, 'As to con- venience, let me see — I must consider a bit — to-morrow I go to Bristol, by Great Western Railv/ay, and next day I make tracks for New York, so if I go at all, I must go now.' * Now ? ' said he. I see'd it posed him, that he didn't expect it so soon. * Now ? ' said he agin, and he mused a bit ; and then said he, * I am sorry the time is so short, sir, but if you will be so kind, my carrige is at the door, and I will drive you there as soon as you are ready, for my friend would be much disappointed in not having the pleasure of seeing you.' ' Civil enough, too,' thinks I, and as I never see'd a parliamentary big bug, I should like the chance, if it was only, like a colony delegate, to have it to brag on arter I got home. So I goes into the chamber, puts on a clean shirt-collar, slips on a pair of dry boots, and runs the comb through my hair. 'Now,' says I, when I comes back to the sittin'-room, * let's up killock and off, for it's gettin' on consider- ably well in the arternoon, and is a'most daylight down, and if he sets me agoin' on colony subjects I won't know when to leave off, for it takes time to spin them yarns, I teW you.' So we showed a leg right off, trotted downstairs, and into the coach in no time, and says he to the driver, 'Home.' 'Homel' says I to myself; 'why, who the devil can this critter be? Is he a member's son, or his writin' and cypherin' clerk, or a lover of one of the gals ; or who is he that he says " home ," for he must live there, that's sartin ?' Well, I didn't like to ask him direct, for I knew I'd find it out soon, and so I let it pass. And, Squire," said he, " among the wrong notions the British have of us Yankees, one is about our etarnal curiosity, and axing questions for ever about nothin' a'most. Now, it happens to be jist the revarse : we are not famous for axing ^ questions^ but for never answerin' them. Arter a while the coach stopped, and afore I could look round I was in the hall, surrounded by officers of the Life Guards, drest in the most beautiful toggery — at least, so I took them to be, for their uniform was splendid ; I never see anything to equal it except the President's on revicwin' ' ,,^ X 1 I THE GREAT UNKNOWN 3" ^ the troops on the 4th of July day. It made me wish I had brought my militia dress, for I didn't like one of our citizens to be outdone ,>; that way, or not to do credit to our great nation when abroad. I' •• ' Excuse me a moment,' said my guide-friend, * till I announce you*; and presently out comes another man dressed in plain . - . clothes, and they stood there a space a-eyin' of me and a-whisperin' together. * He won't do,' said the new-comer ; ' look at his boots.' * It can't be helped,' said the other ; ' he must see him, he sent for him himself.' 'Who the devil is he?' said the stranger. ' Is he a delegate or a patriot member of Assembly, or what is he, for he is the queerest-lookin' devil I ever saw?' *Hush!' said guide, * he is the celebrated " Sam Slick," the Yankee clockmaker ; and,' said he, *they may talk about the feller's shrewdness as much as they please, but he is the d st fool I ever saw.' " * Well,' says I to myself, ' this is rather pretty too, ain't it ? I guess you think flashin' in the pan scares ducks, don't you? One v,*" thing is sartin though, you don't often look in the glass, anyhow, ^. or you'd know the face of a fool when you see one, which is more, i I estimate, than you do at this picscut time.' With that, guide said to one of the sodger officers that was a-standin' in the hall a-doin' of nothin', 'Show him up.' So one of them, a very tall, handsome man, with his head all covered with powder, like a rat in a flour barrel, come up and said, ' Your name, if you please, sir?' 'Well,' says I, *I don't know as it matters much about . *' names; what's your'n?' 'Thomas, sir,' said he, a-bowin' and a-smilin' very perlite. * Well, then,' said I, ' friend Thomas, mine is ; .;^-, Mr. Slick, to the backbone.' I no sooner said the word than he ;t; . bawled out 'Mr. Slick 'in my ear, as loud as he could roar, till . ^ he made me start again, and then every officer on the stairs, and there was several of them there, kept repeatin' after each other, 'Mr. Slick,' 'Mr. Slick,' 'Mr. Slick.' 'Don't be in an everlastin' almighty hurry,' said I ; * I'm a-comin' as fast as I can, and if you do that 'are agin I won't come at all, so there, now ' ; for I began to get my Ebenezer up, and feel rather wolfish. When I came to the foot of the stairs the officer stood back and made room for me; and, says I, 'After you, sir'; but he hung back quite modest (seein' that an American citizen ranks with the first man livin') — so not to be outdone in manners by a mere Britisher, I took him by the arm and pushed him on. * I can't think of goin' afore you, sir,' said I, * but don't let's lose time in ceremony ; and besides, you know the navigation better than I f!o, for I never was here afore' ; and then he went on first. " As I mounted the stairs, I heerd guide-friend say again to the other man in plain clothes, 'Didn't I tell you he was a fool?' ' Madman, I should think,' said the other. Presently a door opened, and I was showed into a room where member, who was nothin' but a common-sized man arter all, was standin' by the fire, and three or four young gentlemen in plain clothes !i 1;;. 312 THE CLOCKMAKER was a-writin' at a table, as hard as they could lay pen to paper. The ofificer that opened the door roared out again, * Mr. Slick I' as loud as he could, and I raaly felt so dander, I do believe I should have knocked him down if he hadn't a-stept back out of reach ; but member came forrard very perlite, and shook me by the hand, and said it was very kind of me to come at such short notice, and that he was very happy to have the pleasure to see me. Then he jist gave a wave of his hand and pointed to the door, as a hunter does to his dogs, without speakin', and the Eeople writin' got up and went out backward, keepin' their faces to . im and bowin'. Arter they were gone he said, ' Take a chair, sir, ^ if you please ' ; so I took one for myself, and lifted one for him, , sayin' it was as cheap to sit as to stand, and every bit and grain as easy too ; but he said he preferred standin', and kinder sorter looked at me, as much as to say he was too good or too proud for that : so there he stood, his elbow on the mantel-piece and his head restin' on his hand. Well, my bristles began to stand right up, like a dog's back. I didn't like the talk of the guide-friend he sent for me ; I didn't like the way the officers kept bawlin' out my name and snickered in the entry ; and I didn't relish the way I was sot down on a chair alone, like a man to be shaved in a barber's shop. I felt as if I could chew him right up, I was so mad, and I was • detarmined to act as ugly as him, for my coming was his seeking and not my own ; and as there was nothing to be made out of it, , i and no trade spiled, I didn't see as I had any occasion to put up with his nonsense, do you ? for there is nothin' I hate so much as pride, especially when any of them benighted insolent foreigners undertake to show it to a free and enlightened American. So I ' just put up my feet on his fender, free and easy, to show him he \ couldn't darnt me by his airs and graces, and then spit right atween * the polished bars of the grate on the red hot coals till it cracked like a pistol. Well, he jumped a yard or so, as if he was shot, and , if you had seen the tanyard look he gin me, it would have made '^ . you split a'larfin'. * Don't be frightened, Lord,' said I — for I didn't know which house he belonged to, so I thought I'd give the title, as we call every stranger citizen Kumel — * Lord,' said I, ' I won't hit you ; I could spit thro' a key-hole and not wet the wards ; but as you stand, I believe I will too, for talk atween two don't come kinder nateral unless both sit or both stand. And now,' says I, * as time presses, what may your business be with me. Lord ? * Well, he stood back two or three feet^ as if he was afeerd I would touch him, and then he entered into a long palaver about the colonies, and asjced me if the people was contented with the \ Government. 'Mr. Stranger Lord,' said I, *they are not, and that's a fact.' * 'He brightened up when he heerd that. He seemed as if it pleased ^ him, as if he would raither hear that than that they were satisfied. < Thinks I to myself, * A nod is as good as a wink to a Wind horse. I : : ' ( >*K' -^ >, THE GREAT UNKNOWN 313 1 >*V' . see what you be : you are an agitator, and want grievances to work on ; but you got the wrong sow by the ear this time, anyhow.' *Ah,* said he, *your testimony is valuable, Mr. Slick, for you are an impartial man, and have had great opportunities of knowing the condition of the people. Do you attribute this discontent to the Government that has prevailed there since the American revolution, or to causes over which we have no control ? ' * To the Govern- ment,' said I, * some part, and some part to other causes, but to none over which you have no control.' * Precisely,' said he ; * that is exactly my view of it. Will you allow me,' said he (a-tryin' to lead me on by doin' the civil), * to offer you some refreshment, sir. I ought to apologise to you for not having offered it before. Have you lunched yet? ' 'Thank you. Lord,' said I, ' I have dined, and harn't no occasion for nothin'.' * Then what remedies do you propose?' said he; 'how would a union do?' 'Cure all evils,* said I. ' You have hit the right nail on the head ; it's exactly the right medicine.' * How singular I * said he ; and he rubbed his hands, and walked up and down the room several times, lookin' very pleased ; and I thought I heerd him say, * What will the Duke say to this ?' * You have heerd, no doubt,' said he, ' of responsible governmexit ; pray, what is your opinion of that?* *It is not only a good government,' said I, 'but no country can be either happy or contented without it. It is absolutely indispensable ; you will lose the colonies without you introduce it.' ' Mr. Slick,' said he, ' I have heerd much of your sagacity from others, and your conversa- tion^ fully confirms the high opmion I had formed of you. I am delighted to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance. When do you leave town ? ' (English folks always begins that way, afore they ax you to take potluck with them.) ' In the mornin*, bright and airly,' said I ; * have you any commands that way ? * ' No, thank you,' said he ; * but would you have any objections to my ordering up those gentlemen you saw here jist now, to hear this very gratifying confirmation of my opinions ? ' ' Not the least in the world,' said I ; ' I don't care if all London hears it.' So he rang the bell, and who should answer but the self-same officer that showed me in. '"Tell those gentlemen,* said Lord, 'that I desire their presence immediately ; and here, you feller, don't let me hear any more laughing out there : don't you know I never permit any one to laugh in my house ; ' and he looked as wicked as a meat-axe at him. He said nothin', but bowed down a'most to the carpet, like a Chinese tea-marchant, and backed out wrong eend foremost. ' Oh ! dear, dear,' said I to myself, ' what a fool I bej I might have known them was sarvants if I hadn't a' been a born idiot, and that rich parliament men could afford uniform for 'em if they liked ; but we must live and larn, and everything must have a beginnin', I do suppose.' While the sarvant was gone, says the entire stranger, * Mr. Slick, the party I belong to is a small but a very influential .a m 3M THE CLOCKMAKER one. It holds the balance between the other two. It occupies the centre, and keeps the others at equal distance, whose wei<^hts retain us in our place. By this means, whichever way we incline, we turn the scale. Your information therefore is all-important.' ' Exactly,' says I ; ' if you can only manage to keep *em jist so, and no farther, it will work beautiful ; but if they pull apart ever so little, whap you come to the ground, like a feller atween two stools, and stand a chance to break your neck, and I hope to heavens you may not hurt yourself, if you do fall.' He looked as striped as a rainbow at that ; but he brightened up at the close, with a look as much as to say, * You Yankees put your words very far apart, very far indeed ; it makes things sound odd like.' " When the gentlemen came in, Lord said, * Mr. Slick fully con- firms my views. He admits the discontent in the colonies, much of which he attributes to Tory misgovernment : he approves of the Union, and says nothing will calm the country but responsible government.' * I do,' said I ; 'and, by your leave, I will explain what I mean.' * Do,' said he ; * but pray be seated ; allow me to give you a chair : ' and we all sot down, and he among the rest. He forgot his pride that time. How strange it is. Squire, no man is so haughty and overbearin' as a democrat or radical ; and they do tell me some even of the liberal lords beat all natur' for pride, actilly the highest in the instep of any of their order. That conies of pretence now ; a man that stoops lower nor he ought in some things^ is plaguy apt to straighten himself over the perpendicular in others^ to make up for it again. * Now,' says Lord, ' I wish you to hear this man's' — (gentleman's, says he, a-catchin' himself as quick as wind) — 'this gentleman's opinion yourselves. It is very satisfactory to have such good authority in our favour.' ' Dis- content,' says I, ' prevails to an alarmin' extent. It exists every- where ' (' I'll move to have this feller examined before a committee,' said he, a-whispering to my guide-friend ; 'the scoundrel is quite a god-send to us '), ' it pervades all classes,' says I. ' Good heavens ! * said he, ' I wasn't prepared to hear such a fearful account ; but it's very satisfactory, very satisfactory indeed. Go on, sir, I am quite delighted.' ' Paradise wasn't good enough for some folks,' says I : * how can the colonies be ? Them critturs there are not satisfied with the dispensations of Providence ; how can you expect them to be so with the Government ? They would like to have a Govern- ment to cost nothin', to have their bread grow'd ready baked, to be paid for eatin' it, and be fed with a siber spoon. Union^^ says I, ' that you inquired about, is most desirable, for it would heal all differences ; but not a union of the provinces, for that would only open new sources of strife, and eend in your losin' 'em body and breeches, but a responsible Government,^ says I, ' is indispensable.' Jist thin I took a squint out of the corner of my eye, and I see he began to smell a rat, and to look all adrift ; so on I went, knee deep, and a foot deeper, a-pokin' it into him like fun. * Men who rebel'. sav.s I 'and commi*^ mu^dar and arson, ought to be hel4 ■^a it. THE GREAT UNKNOWN 315 responsible foi it, or you might as well be without any law at all, unless you like Lynch law best. Wherever you see loyalty, encourage it ; and disloyalty, discourage it. Whatever changes is right, make them, and then tell them, now, that's tlie form that's settled ; if you don't like it, leave the colonies, and go where you can find things more to your mind ; but if you do stay there and rebel, you will be hanged, as sure as you are born. You shall have responsibility, but it shall be the responsibility of crime to law, and of offenders to justice.^ -— " Heavens and airth ! if you had a' only see'd stranger Lord, or whatever he was, how he looked, it would have done you good. It was as grand as a play. Oh, he was as mad as a hatter, and the madder because he couldn't help himself nohow he could fix it. He actilly looked as small as the little eend of nothin' whittled down. He was so bungfungered he couldn't speak, and t'other fellers looked as if they were afeerd of their lives to speak either ; they seemed, them critters, as if they darsn't call their souls their own, he kept them in such awe. Oh, dear, what a bam it is for such men to talk liberal, when they actilly don't believe that they are made of the same clay as other folks ! At last things began to look rather serious for a joke, so says I, risin' up and takin' my hat, ' I believe I must be a-movin', Lord,' says I ; ' and if I don't sail, as I some expect, I shall be back next week. And if you want to see further into matters, jist send for me, and I will come with pleasure ; or if you want to examine me before that committee, tip the scoundrel a subpener, and he'll testify through a three-inch plank for you. Do you take ? ' (It made his teeth grit that, like two mill-stones ; he grinned like a fox-trap — fact, I assure you.) * Yes,' says I, *send for me, and I'll come ; for you and I, I see, agree in opinion about them colonies 'zactly. Indeed, you are the only man I've met since I came here that talks a word of sense about them. Good day ! ' and I turned and walked out, guide and his companions follerin' me. * What a d — d hoax ! ' said guide, a-whisperin' to the other. *That feller is no fool, after all ; he is more rogue than dunce that. He has given him a fit of the jaundice.' " " Do you know the name of the nobleman ?" said I, "for I cannot conceive from your description who it can be ; for there are many proud lords, and many wrong-headed ones too." " No," said the Clockmaker, " I can't even give a guess ; for his coach carried me home, and I was so full of the bam I played oflf on him I didn't mind to look at the name of the street ; and he never sent for me agin, as you may calculate. I guess one dose was enough to do his business for him, I don . know nother whether he was a senator or a representa//?//?. Indeed, I don't know any lord in England. Some on 'em, I hear, brag that they were quite intimate with me when I was there ; but that's only their boastin' to look big. No, I don't know his name, or whether he was upper- or under-crust ; but when I tell the story I call hini the — Great Unknown*^ \ 3x6 THE CLOCKMAKER '•>- CHAPTER VI SNUBBING A SNOB ^f \ On our arrival at the inn at Windsor we were shown into a spacious apartment, in some respects answering in appearance and use to an English coffee-room. At the upper end, near the window, sat a stranger, looking at rather than reading a newspaper. " Look there now," said Mr. Slick in an undertone — "jist look there now, for goodness' gracious sake I Did you ever see the beat of that ? That is a Britisher ; I know him by the everlasiin' scorny air he wears — for them benighted English think no one can see in the dark but themselves. He is what t*iey call a snob that, and a full-fed one too ; for when nuts grow ripe, hogs grow fat. He is a-doin' a bit of Paris that man, to astonish the weak narves of the nditives with. He has been across the Channel, you see ; and he has got a French barber to make him look a bigger fool than he was afore he left home. Look at his hair, divided like on the top of his head, combed down straight over each ear, and fallin' full and curly on the cape of his coat ; his mustachios squared out at each eend like the brush of a weasel's tail ; and that little tuft of hair a-hangin' from his onder lip like a turkey- cock's beard. Ain't he enough to charm the heart of a kitchen broomstick, that's all? He looks for all the world like one of them ancient heads in the old pictures at the Jews' shops in London. Then see that chalky, white, bleached hand he is passin' leisurely over his mouth to show the flash rings on his fingers ! and how slow he passes his eye from the paper over the room, to meditate knowin' like, as if he could see what's what, and take it all in at a draught. That goney is half-puppy, half-philosopher, I expect. How I would like to walk into him 1 It's such fun to * Snub a snob^* ain't it ? and to knock the rust off of him 1 Oh, dear ! I suppose we • hall get some raal travellers at last that do know somethin', for the dirt always goes before the broom. Jist so it is in Florida ; a horse won't live there on a new farm, so they have to use asses till the pasture gets old and good, and the feed sweet. And I suppose, now we have got steam and good inns, these asses of travellers will get a walkin' ticket, and men of sense will take their place. I must say, if he only had a good strong horse-sense, I'd like to show him how to tell a wood-chuck from a skunk ; but he han't, that's clear ; so I'll jist set him off on a hand-gallop, and then snub him." He accordingly walked over to that end of the room, and commenced making his acquaintance. The conversation that ensued turned on the value of the North American Colonies ; and although a native and a resident of one .-^- SNUBBING A SNOB 317 of them myself, I am free to admit I was not aware of the unhmited extent to which they are dependent on England for their manu- factures, until my attention was drawn to it by the Uvely and pointed sketch of Mr. Slick. His utterance was so rapid that I fear I have missed some parts of his ilhtstration, aiihough I committed the substance of it to paper the same afternoon. I have only to regret that some of the opponents of the colonies were not present to hear so triumphant a vindication of these neglected and undervalued possessions. Tabular accounts few men read, and still fewer know how to appreciate. A personal application like the present, which shows the practical working of the trade, could it only be given in his own words, and his own peculiar manner, is worth a hundred of the dull speeches, and still duller articles of the modern political economists, for it establishes beyond all doubt this important lact, that these provinces are as much dependent on England for every article of manufacture used in them as Oxford or Cambridj^^e is, and that a colonial market is strictly and literally a home market. " I suppose," said Mr. Slick, " you didn't come by the Great Wtstern^ did you ?" "I did, sir." " How was rice when you left England, and cotton ? Have they riz in markit ? How was they quoted when you quit ? Biddle made a great speck in cotton, didn't he ? I guess some of the Liverpoolers will pass out of the leetle eend of the horn afore they are done yet, won't they ? " These interrogatories, and many others, were all answered with great good-humour by the stranger, who appeared much amused with the ease and freedom of the Clockmaker s manner. At last Mr. Slick put the never-failing American c|ues.ion, *' How do you like the country ? " To this Snob replied in terms of great admiration of the beauty of the scenery, and the fertility of the soil ; but being of the reform school of politicians, could see nothing that did not require change, and denounced all colonies in general, and the North American ones in particular, as useless and expensive incumbrances ; stated his conviction that the day was not far distant when they would demand their independence ; that the sooner both parties separated the better it would be for them, and that true wisdom, as well as their mutual interest, dictated immediate separation. He concluded by asking Mr. Slick if he did not concur in that opinion. " Well," said the Clockmaker, " I will give you my opinion, free gratis for nothin', if you won't be offended." " Oh 1 certainly not," said Snob. *' I shall not only not be offended, but most happy to hear your views ; the object of travelling is not to dis- seminate one's own opinions, but to hear those of others." " Well, then," said Mr. Slick, *' like begets like in a gineral way, for it's a law of natur'. Horses, do ye see, beget horses, owls beget owls, and asses beget asses — it never fails ; and stupid parents seldom i:^ 3i8 THE CLOCKMAKER nor ever have wise children. Now, I ain't a-goin' to say that John Bull is a cussed, stupid, thick-headed old goney (for I don't mean no offence, stranger, but only to argue it out plain, and nothin' personal, and because it wouldn't be pretty talk that), but I esti- mate he ts a considerable some tho', and if Blue-nose is a leetlo soft like, a leetle onderbaked or so, why, it's no great wonder considerin' the stock he comes of. John Bull has got a'most a grand estate in these colonies, and a'most an excellent market, too, and don't know nothin' about either — fact, I assure you ; and if it warn't they speak better English here than the British do, you would fancy yourself at home a'most, for everything you hear^ see, or touch here^ is English. Jist look at Blue-nose and see what a woppin', great big two-fisted crittur he is : you won't find such a made man nowhere a'most. He is more nor six foot high in his stocking feet (and he has got 'em to put on, too, which is more nor half the British have), as strong as a horse, and as supple as an eel. Well, when he is born, he isn't much bigger than a kitten ; a squallin', squeelin', kickin', ongainly little whelp as you ever see a'most. Now, what is the first thing they do with him ? Why, they wash the young screetch- owl in an English bowl, wrap him up in English flannel, and fasten it with English pins, and then dress him in an English frock,j with an English cap trimmed with English lace. If the crittur is sick, they give him English physic with an English spoon, and the very first word he lams to speak is '■English! As soon as he begins to use his trotters and run about, he has an English hat, shirt of English linen, coat of English cloth, and shoes of English leather. Arter that they send him to school, an' he writes with an English pen, made from an English quill by an English knife, uses English ink out of an English inkstand, and paper made in your country, and ruled with an English pencil. He spells out of an English dictionary, and reads out of an English book. He has hardly learned what ampersand means, afore they give hiin a horse, such as it is, and he puts an English bridle into his mouth, and an English saddle on his back, and whips the nasty, spavin'd, broken-winded brute with an English whip, and when he stumbles, and throws him off, he swears a bushel of horrid "English oaths at him. He trims the great, shaggy, hairy beast with English scissors, combs his nasty thick mane with an English comb, and curries his dirty hide with an English curry-comb, and then ties him up in his stall with an English halter. Then comes sportin' ; and to give the crittur his due, he ain't a bad shot nother, seein' that he is fond o' fowlin', or troutin', or anything but work. Gunnin' is his delight, and a wild-duck, a moose, or a carriboo, when they see him a-comin' to parsecute them, know it's gone goose with them. But where does his gun come from ? and his powder ? and his shot ? and his flask ? and his belt ? Why, clean away from England. Even his flint comes from there, for there ^1 I'" ^ ■■'■■ X K 'I SNUBBING A SNOB 319 .1 ', ' ain't a flintstone in all Nova Scotia ; and if there was, the crittur couldn't cut it into shape so as to be any use. He han't the tools, and if he had, he don't know how. That's the reason, I suppose, anyone a'most can 'fix his flint for him.' It's more nateral this should be the case in gunnin' than in fishin' ; but even here the chap can't help himself. Tho' the country is covered with wood, he imports his rod, his net, his line, his leads, and even his flies. He does, upon my soul ! altho' the forest is filled with flies big enough and strong enough to bite thro* a boot. As soon as his beard comes (and sometimes afore, for I have known boys actilly shave ^r a beard), why, he goes and gets a British glass to admire his young mug in ; he lathers his chin with an English brush and English soap, a-lookin' as big as all out-doors, and mows away at it with an English razor, sharpened on a British hone, and stropped on a British strop ; then he puts on an FLnglish collar, and ties it up with an English stock, and I hope I may be skinned if be don't call himself an Englishwa«. A chip of the old block he is too, and young Blue-nose is as like old John as two peas, the same proud, consaited, self-suflUcient, know-nothin' crittur ; a regular gag, that's a fact." " Why, really, sir," said Snob, who was much and very justly ofifended at this indecent language, " I don't understand — '* " Oh ! but you will understand," said Mr. Slick, " if you only hear me out. In a gineral way, 'bout this time he begins to feel raither pitikilar, and he pays a visit to the * 'tropolis,' to see the world ; for a man that han't been to the capital has see'd nothin'. So instead of taking a continental trip, as British boys do, he takes a coastin' trip in his father's shollop to that 'are great city of great men, HaHfax. He fills his first office in this life, super-cargo of two or three jags of fire-wood, a dozen birch brooms, a basket of bad eggs, a sick calf, a measly pig ; and when he has squandered all the proceeds of the plunder a-larnin' to drink and swear like a man, he comes to tell of the wonderful sights he has see'd, and talk reform politics. But, look to his vessel, ropes, sails, blocks, anchor, bolts, copper, iron, compass, and all the other fixin's — where do they come from ? Why, from where every part of the vessel except the sappy, buggy, dry-rotted wood she is built with comes from — from England. Look at the old battered watch he is rigged out with, the case half lead, half pewter, that he swapped his wood for on the wharf with a woman with a painted face and dirty stockings, who cheated him by calling him ' captain,' and * squire,' and 'your honour'; where did that watch and that old trull come from ? From England, like the rest. "The next thing the sinner looks out for is a gal, for few created critturs go a-gallin' so early as he does. He is hardly cleverly growed up and cut his mother's apron-string afore he is spliced. He never waits till he has a place to put his wife in, or anything to support her with ; he trusts luck for that, catchts the nl 'M / 320 THE CLOCKMAKER bird first, and then makes the cage. Well, see how he goes about that ; he cuts down the trees to build it with an axe of English iron, saws it with an English saw, planes it with an English plane, puts it together with English nailSj driven by an English hammer, and then paints it with English pamt and an English brush. The sashes has English glass, kept in by English putty ; the doors are hun^ upon English hinges, and secured by English locks (against British thieves tho', for they forgot to reform them afore they shipped them out) ; the floor is covered with imported carpets, the windows with imported curtains, and the fire made in imported stoves, and fixed with imported tongs and shovels. When he gives a house- warmin' to his friends, for he is rather amorous of a frolick, the plates, knives, and forks, decanters and glasses, and everything else is English, and when the boys and gals go for to dance, heaf the musick, that's all ! Pretty musick it is too, afore tunes came in fashion, I guess ; but hear it. English fifes, English flutes, English drums, English pianos, and English fiddles (not to mention Scotch ones, of which mum is the word). But what's the use of talkin'. If I was to tell -you what they have got that they have to send to Britain for, it would take a month ; but I'll tell you what don't come : wood, water, stone, and airth is all that they can call their own, that doesn't come from England, unless it be a few thousand wooden clocks I introduced here^ to let 'em know when grog time of day comes. Well, the next house Blue-nose gets into is a small one, where his nose and his toes touches the roof. You'd think he was done with England now, and that. he could take nothin' out of the world with him, no more than he brought into it ; but he ain't finished yet. The goney wouldn't die happy if this was the case. He don't like to be separated from English manufactures even in death, for he is so used and so attached to the Old Country that he calls his own native land Nova Scotia, and England he calls — what do you think now? why, he calls it '' home^ ; he does, upon my soul ! No, sir, the grave don't part 'em, nor death shut his pan nother, for, as soon as he is stiff, he is dressed in an English shroud, and screwed down with English screws into his coffin, that is covered with English cloth, and has a plate on it of English ware, for the worms to read his name and age on, if they have lamed to spell. The minister claps on an En.,rlish gownd, reads the English sarvice out of an English book, and the grave is filled up agin with airth shovelled in with an English shovel, while every man, woman, and child that bears his name pulls out an English handkerchief to wipe their eyes and blow their noses with, and buy as much English black cloth, crape, and what not, as would freight a vessel a'most ; for, havin lamed the multiplication table airly in life, the number of his descendants would make you stare, I know. His children run the same rig round the same course, till they eend by being packed up in a snug pill-box in the same graveyard. And yet John Bull f i i 1 <: •! SNUBBING A SNOB 321 says colonies are no good. Why, the man is a drivellin', snivellin', divelin' idiot, an everlastin' born fool, that's a fact." This second outburst was more than the good-natured stranger could endure, and though amused myself at the rhodomontade style of his argument, I could not but participate in the annoyance he felt at these gross national reflections. -' "Really, sir," said Snob, "this is too much." ** I— I'll cut it short, then," said Mr. Slick, again misunderstanding him ; "but it's true, sir, for all that. Now, how is colonist able to pay for all this almighty swad of manufactured plunder, seein' that he has no gold nor silver; why, mainly by his timber^ and yet them onfakilised, onderbaked goneys, the British, actually want to tax it and reform out the trade, so as to give a preference to Baltic timber. * We don't want colony timber,' says they. ' Don't you, tho' ? ' says Blue-nose ; 'then I hope we maybetetotallyextinctified if we want your manufactures.' What's the name of your great gun in Canada?" "Do you mean Sir John Colbourne?" said Snob. "No," replied Mr. Slick, " I don't mean the ' man-o'-war,' I mean the *marchant man.'" " Oh ! I have it, Pullet Thompson." "Well, Pullet will lam somethin' in Canada about timber he never knew afore, or it ain't no matter. When you see him, stump him ; ' friend Pullet,' says you, * when a log is hewed ana squr '?d can you tell the south side of it ? ' and if he don't an^w^ it right off the reel (and I'll go my death on it he can't), tell 1 ;o send out the Board of Trade, ay, and the Board of Woi,-^ lOo, to Sam Slick the Clockmaker, to go to school for a spell, for he is jist the boy can teach 'em something that ain't sot down in the Reform Bill, knowin' coons as they be. Yes, sir, if ever you was to Antwarp, you'd see what it is to lose colonies. When that place belonged to Holland, and had colonial trade, five thousand marchants used to meet on 'Change ; now the Exchange is left, but the marchant is gone. Look at the great docks built th«i:e at so much expense, and no shipping there. Look at one man-of-war for a navy that has a pennant as long as from to-day to the middle of next week, that can't get out for the Dutch forts, is of no use m, and if it did get out, has no place to go to. Buonaparte said he wanted ships, colonies, and commerce ; one fool makes many I Every delegate, patriot, and humbug that goes from here to London, if he gets by accident to a public dinner (for folks to see he ain't black), and is asked for a toast, rises up, lookm' as wise as a donkey, and "Says, * Ships, colonies, and commerce 1 ' till it becomes a standin' toast. Buonaparte was a fool, and didn't know what he was a-talkin' about, for colonies means all three. Them that have colonies will lose the other two along with them. Yes, John Bull is a blamed blockhead, a cus — " ** Excuse me," said the stranger, rising and effecting his escape at last, " but really, sir, your language is so offensive you must permit me to retire," and he very properly left the room. «i: It 'At: ' ■ • -i; ■-; %ik 322 THE CLOCKMAKER " Well, I didn't mean to offend him nother," said Mr. Slick, " I vow. There was no occasion for him to hop about as mad as a parched pea that way, was there ? I am sorry he kicked afore he was spurred tho', for I was only speakin' in a gineral way like. I wish he had heerd me out too, for I was only a-breakin* of the crust when he began to look all wrath that way. I hadn't got rightly into the subject. I only spoke of manufactures, but that is merely one item ; there are many other political ones that he never heerd of, / know. But what can you expect of such critturs? All they can do is to grunt like a pig at corn time. The way they don't know nothin' is most beautiful, and them that make speeches ir. England about the colonies too. There ain't, p'raps, no one siibject there is so much nonsense talked about as these provinces. It's ridiculous ; it makes me larf so it actilly busts my waistcoat buttons off ; it fairly gives me a pain in my side, and I must say I do like, when I get a chance, to * Snub a SnobJ " CHAPTER VII PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S As soon as the conversation related in the preceding chapter had ceased, I committed the heads of it to p.tper, and as I intended to proceed on the following day to New Brunswick, I retired early, m order to secure a good night's rest. In this expectation, how- ever, I was disappointed. The bar, which adjoined my bedroom, now began to fill with strangers, travelling to and from the capital, and the thin wooden partition that separated us was insufficient to exclude the noise of so many voices. After awhile the confusion gradually subsided, by the greater part of the persons withdrawing to their several apartments, and the conversation assumed a more distinct and intelligible shape. The topic appeared to be the delegation sent from Canada on the subject of alleged grievances, and I was glad to find that, with the exception of one or two noisy illiterate persons, every individual deplored the agitation that had recently affected the colonies, and denounced the system of " grievance mongering " that had prevailed of late years, as having a tendency to retard the real improvement of the country, and discourage the loyal and respectable portion of the inhabitants. " Jist so," said a person, whose voice I at once recognised as that of Mr. Slick — "jist so, stranger ; you are jist about half right, and there is no two ways about it. Delegations are considerable nice jobs for them who want a ride across the Atlantic at the Sublic expense, for nothin' ; for demagogues, place-hunters, and umbugs that want to make the natives stare when they get back, by telling how big they talked, and what great things they did. PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S 323 d, to the great people and to the big -wigs to home. / did this — / did that, and so on. That's what Mackenzie did when he told his folks in Canada, when he returned from delegatin', that he see'd the King, who was very civil to him, and took a glass of grog with him ; and told him he was sorry he couldn't ask him to dine with him that day, for the Queen was very busy, as it was whitewashm' day at the palace, and they was all in hubbub. *For Mac.,' said he (smilin' like a raal salt-water sailor), 'these leetle things, you know, must be done for kings as well as subjects, and women is women, whether their petticoats are made of silk or cotton, and the dear critturs will ha\e their own way, eh, Mac. 1 Our washin' we put out, but house-cleanin' must be done in the house or not done at all, there is no two ways about it : you understand me, Mac. ? Tell my people, when you return, if my governors don't behave better, d — n 'em, I'll hang one or two of them as an example 1 Good-bye, Mac* And some on 'em was fools enough to believe the goney and his everlastin' lockrums, that's a fact. Yes, delegations play ihe very old Nick with a country. They hurt its credit, stop emigration, reform out decent folks, and injure its trade. ?eople are afeerd of a country where there is agitation, for agitation is what the doctors call in cholera the premonitory symptom ; a sign that if 2ictive measures are not taken, rebellion ain't far off. But you colony chaps are gulled from year's eend to year's eend, hang me if you ain't. You are a nation sight too well off, so you be, and if you was taxed like us Yankees, or the ignorant British, and had to move round and mind your stops, so as to make two eends cleverly meet together when the year is out, it would be better for you, I guess. One half of you ion't know what you are talkin' about ; and t'other half are goin' ihe whole rigur' for patriotism. " Lord, I shall never forget a rise I once took out of an old Colonel of Bangor, the Honourable Conrad Corncob. He rose to be a gineral afterwards, but then he was only a kurnel, and it's very odd, but you can tell a kurnel as far as you can see him. They've all got a kind of schoolmaster look, as much as to say, ' I am bothered to death with my boys, and will wallop the first one I catch like blazes that comes with his " please sir, may I go out." " Master, here's Pete a scroudgein," ' and so on. It's all wrote as plain in their fiaces as a handbill. Well, he was ravin' about the disputed territory, a-blowin' up Mr. Harvey, the Governor of New Brunswick, sky high, and sayin' what he would do agin' the Britishers, and at last he says, a-turnin' to me and a-rollin' up his eyes like a duck in thunder, ' Mr. Slick,' says he, ' " dulce est pro patria mori." ' ' What in natur' is that ? ' says I, 'gineral; for I've forgot what little Latin minister larned me at night-schv^l ; and, in fact, I never was any great shakes at it, that's a fact.' 'Why,' says he, "it's a sweet thing to die for one's country."' •Well, I don't know,' says I, 'what you may J^:. m ill .1' 324 THE CLOCKMAKER chink, but somehow or another I kinder think it's a plaguy sight sweeter thing to live by one's country ; and besides,* says I, ' I don't translate that 'are Latin line that way at all.' ' Possible ? ' says he ; * I don't see no other meanin' to it at all.' * I do then,' says I, * and this is the way I turn it into English : " mori " the more I get, " pro patria " by the country, " dulce est " the sweeter it is." And that's what I call patriotism in these days.' Says he, * Mr. Siick,' and he looked all round to sec nobody was within hearin', and then puttin' his fingers on his nose, says he — * Mr. Slick, I see you are up to snufT, and that it ain't easy to pull the wool over your eyes ; but atween you and me and the post, it wouldn't be a bad thing to be on full-pay as a gineral for the winter months, when a body can't do no business in the timber line at home, would it ? and mr two sons on the staff, one on 'cm with the rank of captain and the other of major ; do you take ? * ' To be sure I do,' says I. 'I take well enough ; and if them Maine folks will be such almighty " maniacks," as I call 'em, as to send out troops to the Brunswick line, you'd be a fool if you didn't make your ned out o' them as well as anybody else, that's a fact.' ' But, Mr. Slick,' said he, * mum is the word, you know ; keep dark about it, and I'll show you how to put the leake into folks ; ' and then turnin' round and puttin' himself in the fix of Webster, Clay, and some o' them great guns, he made as if he was addressin' of an assembly of citizens. * Now,' said he, * I'll show you how I talk into them about the boundary : " Will you sell your birth-right, my fellow-citizens ? will you sell your birth- right to the proud and insolent British? I await your answer. Will none speak ? Then none will be so base. Will you tamely submit to have your sacred soil polluted by benighted foreigners? No ; let Maine answer indignantly. No ; let Florida echo it back ; let the mountains and valleys, the lakes and the rivers, take it up, and reverberate in thunder : No. No, fellow-citizens, let us farther rally round the star-spangied banner of our great and glorious country. Let us, choosing that day that is consecrated to fame by the blood and heroism of our ancestors, the great day of independence, plant our flag on the territory, and rampart it round with the bodie. of our free and enlightened citizens. 'Dulce est pro pxtria mori."" And then he bust out a-larfin-, and staggered like over to the sophy, and laid down and haw- ^iiwed like thunder. * Well, Slick,' said he, when he came to, * what darned fools mankind are, to be so easily gulled by that 'are word patriotism ! ain't they ? It fairly beats all, don't it ? ' "Nov, strangers,' said the Clockmaker, "that's pretty much the case with delegations. As long as them missions are profitable things, delegates will be as plenty and grievances as thick as hops. If I was the minister I would receive them folks very civilly, and attend to their business if they had any, and was ricomnundtd by th^. Governor: but I never would encourage '; . "W^r iV ■>\^ PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S 325 "^ agitation, and hold out a premium for it, by rewardin' agitators themselves with ;ippointments. A trade won't be followed long that ain't a profitable one, that's a fact. I'll tell you a story." " Do," said the company ; "let's hear your story" ; and the motion of the chairs indicated a closing in of the hsteners round the speaker. "About forty years ago, or thereabouts, I think it is," said Mr. Slick, "if my memory sarves nie right, there was a rebellion in Ireland. Patriots were as thick as toads arter a rain-storm ; they was found in every man's path a'most, and they stirred up a tempestical time of it, you may depend. They began with grievances and speech-makin', and all that sort ot thing, jist as they did t'other day in Canidy, and it eended the same way. It was put down arter a good many poor deluded critturs lost their lives in the field. Then came the day of reckonin', and they caught some o' the leaders and hanged them, tho' most of the first-chop men cut and run, as they always do in sucli-like cases, considerable cranky. Among the rest that they nabbed was two brothers, the two Shears's. Well, folks pitied these two men a good deal, too ; they said they railly was in airnest, and had no private eends to sarve, like most of the patriots, but was led astray by artful men. They said that nothin' could excuse the horrid murders, and blood, and distress caused by their doin's ; but still, somehow or another, there was so much courage and darin*, and eloquence, and elevation of mind like, about these men, they did railly grudge the gallus its due that time, anyhow, and kind o' sorter felt as if they'd a' been glad if they had got off. But no. Nothin' would do. Government said a just sev:rity would be marcy in the eend, for it would deter men frcm follerin* sich a bad example, and they was jist hanged and beheaded. It excited quite a sensation like. People felt consider- able streaked about it, pitied 'em, mourned 'em, and, as usual, forgot 'em. Well, last summer I was in Dublin, and, arter I had finished my trade there, havin' a little time on my hands, I goes about to see the Castle, Custom House, College, and what not of curiosities ; for Dublin is worth seein', I tell you ; it takes the shine off of most cities, and at last I heard there was a place under St. Michan's Church where bodies never cjecaj ed one mite or morsel, but kept as fresh as the day they died, and as sweet as a pot of butter in an ice-house. So thinks I, 'That's cur'ous too ; hang me if I don't go and see it. I have heerd tell of such a thing, but I never see the like of that, and it must be worth lookin' at.' So off 1 sot, with an old East India captain that was a-stayin' there at the Shelbume Inn, at Stephen's Green — quite a spooney old boy as you'd see in a hundred — and when I got to the church, I hired the old saxton woman, or whatever they call her, to let m.e in. What does she do but lights two candies ; one on 'em she gives me, and t'other one she keeps in her own hand, and onlockin' the door, down we goes into the vault. Well, ;)■ 'I- •! 326 THE CLOCKMAKER there warn't any onpleasant smell in it at all, tho' the floor seemed covered with fat, crumbly black soil like, that felt greasy onder foot, and as far as I know, mij,^ht 'a been human ; and railly, as I am a livin' sinner, I hope I may die this blessed minit if the corpses warn't jist as nateral as life. Well, there were three on 'em on the floor: two on 'em that was men had their heads off; but the third was a woman ; and the coffins had rolled off and fallen away to powder ; and they had nothin' over them at all, but there they laid on the floor like dead dogs, as naked as when they was born. * Well,' says I to the woman, says I, ' If that don't beat all, too ; why, nothin' has decayed about them men but the chords of their necks. Their heads is off; how strange that is, ain't it ? what made their heads go for it, and no other part? what on airth is the meanin' o' that ? ' " Here another general move of the chairs in the bar-room showed the increasing interest of the company in his narrative, as they closed in still further, and contracted their heads. " * Why, their heads ain't gone, your honour,' said she (for all Irish people say your honour to you when there is anything to be got by it), ' they have got them in their laps, and are a-holdin' of them in their hands : see,' and she lifted up one of their heads, and turned its ghastly face round towards me, and its eyeless socket stared horrid ; while the mouth, all contracted, showed the teeth and looked wicked ugly, I tell you, with an expression o' pain and sufferin' that was dreadful to behold. I didn't get that head out o' my head one while, I tell you. It fairly harnted me ; and I fancied I see'd it arterwards, when I went to bed, for the matter of two or three nights, one arter the other. Dead bodies ain't very pretty things at no time ; I can't jist say I am fond of them, and I most wonder somehow how doctors don't get sick of them too. Brother Eldad was always a-buyin' of them, jist for the pleasure of whittlin' of them with his knife, and every drawer and trunk he had a'most had an arm, or leg, or somethin' or another in it. I believe in my soul he never buried one agin that he dug up, for he seemed to owe the worms a grudge, so he did ; but as I was a-sayin', they had their heads in their laps. 'Well,' says I to the old woman, says I, ' Is that St. Dennis ? for he is the only man I ever heerd tell of that ondertook to walk off with his head onder his arm arter that fashion — who onder the sun is he?' 'Why,' says she, 'them two men are two brothers : they was hanged and beheaded in the rebellion; they are *^^ the two Shears^ s^^ ; han't they kept well intirely ? Now give that cratur next to your honour,' said she, 'a prod with the foot and turn him over, and see how beautiful the corpse looks where the air ain't come to the back.' * No,' says I, 'not I indeed ; I always feels kinder onswoggled like at dead bodies ; it makes my flesh crawl all over, and 1 won't lay foot to 'em for nothin' a'most, for it's ondecent to kick 'em about with your foot that way, as if it was a carcass of pork.' ' Why, they won't bite, your honour,' said she, ' tho' they do show their !;; PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S 327 teeth ; and, by the powers, I am not afeerd of any man that ever was, dead or alive ; so I'll give him a roll over if you'd like to see the other side of him. He is as li^ht as a baby, he is so dry.' * No,' says I, *jist let him be ; it don't seem jist altogether right. Let him be where he is.* * Well, then,' said she, * obsarve, your honour, how nateral the limbs look. See the great toe, how it forks out, strainin' as if seekin' for support for the body when hangin' ; and the chords of the legs, how hard and crampt they be. The hands, too, are convulsed, and the fingers clenched in the agonies, like a violent <^ath. It's a beautiful sight intirely. People say they are great curiosities, them, and that it's worth goin' many a long mile to see, and a crown piece to get a sight of them. Most gentlemen give me five shillings for my trouble ; and once, Lord Argent gave me a sov — ' " * Well, well,' says I, a-stoppin' of her gab about the pay, for women in a gineral way never lose sight of the main chance one blessed minit — * well,' says I, *"is this the reward of patriotism," to be handed and beheaded, and then left kickin' about here on the floor, like dead rats ? Lawful heart 1 why don't them patriots (for some on 'em are at the top of the pot now), why don't they clap 'em into a coffin, bury 'em decently, and put a monument over them, and show their pity or their gratitude, if they have any ? If it ain't fit to make a fuss about folks that was hanged, and they actilly did desarve what they caught that time, why on airth han't they the decency to inter 'em privately, and jist put up a stone with their names on it, to show where they be, and who they be? It's enough to make a man sick of patriotism this, I'll be hanged myself if it ain't. It is hard to say which is wus, to see patriots forgit their country, or the country forgitten patriots, for it happens both ways.' ' Don't call it patriotism,' said the Sea-Captain, who stood all the time a-sniflin' and a-snivelin' like a child (he did, upon my soul !) ' don't dignify the crime o' rebellion, which is an offence against the laws of God and man, by such a name. The innocent blood which they caused to be poured out like water called for the just but heavy retribution of shedding their own.* * Well,' says I, ' them whose cause they took hold on might bury 'em, at: any rate. It wouldn't hurt 'em one might or morsel to do that much, I am sure.' ' Patriots,' said he, ' in gineral, are too busy in consartin* schemes for their own aggrandizement to have time to think of the dead, or care for the livin' either. The very name of patriot awakens no other idea than that of the cowardly assassin or midnight incendiary. Patriotism and the worst species of crime have become synonymous.' ' Call 'em Pat-rtofs, then,' says I, 'if you please, or christen them anything you like ; but they ought to be buried, anyhow.' ' So they had ought,' said he. ' Poor un- fortunate men, the victims of your own folly, and the villainy of your more subtle and designing accomplices, I pity you — I pity \ it 328 THE CLOCKMAKER you from my heart, and will ask permission to perform the last sad office for you, and see that your bodies repose in peace at last 1 Ah I my good friend,' said he, * had they read their Bible more, and seditious pamphlets less, they mi^ht have escaped this igno< minious end. They would have observed the precept of the Psalmist : '* Fear God, honour the King, and middle not with them that are ^iven to change." ' * Stranger,' said I — for I didn't see what right he had for to go for to preach to me—* as for fear in' the Lord,' says I, * I guess I was always brought up to that since I was knee high, or so, to a chaw of tobacco ; and as for a king, we han't got none, and ain't likely to have one. We have nothin' but a President, and he is a divil outlawed, for he is nothin* but a miserable, dispicable Loco FocO. Now,' says I, * if you can find anywhere that an everlastin' miserable skunk of a Loco Foco is desarvin' of honour, why — ' ; but he wouldn't hear me out, but jist walked away a bit, a-sayin' of ' Oh ! oh ! oh !' as if he had a fit of the cholic, and a-wavin' of his hand up and down, as a freemason does at a funeral. The crittur was a considerable of a spooney, that's a fact ; but, greenhorn as he was, he warn't far out in his latitude about politics, I tell you. Whenever I hear how sweet it is to die for one's country, patriotism, and such stuff, I always think of them two Shears's, and the reward they got at the time, and now receive from posterity, *for meddliti with them that are given to change,*^ • \ I CHAPTER VIII TOO KNOWING BY HALF Instead of embarking at Windsor in the steamer for New Brunswick, as we had originally designed, Mr. Slick proposed driving me in his waggon to Horton by the Mount Denson route, that I might have an opportunity of seeing what he pronounced to be some of the most beautiful scenery in the province. Having arranged with the commander of the boat to call for us at the Bluff, we set out accordingly i few hours before high-water, and proceeded at our leisure through the lower part of Falmouth. Mr. Slick, as the reader no doubt has observed, had a good deal of extravagance of maimer about him, and was not less remarkable for his exaggeration of language, and therefore I was by no means prepared to find a scene of such exquisite beauty as now lay before me. I had seen at different periods of my life a good deal of Europe, and much of America ; but I have seldom seen anything to be compared to the view of the Basin of Minas and its adjacent landscape, as it presents itself to you on your ascent of Mount Denson ; and yet, strange to say, so little is it known or appreciated fr TOO KNOWING BY HALF 329 I here, that I never recollect to have heard it spoken of before as anything remarkable. I am not writing a book of travels, and shall not attempt, therefore, to describe it. I am sketching character, not scenery, and shall content myself by recommending all American tourists to visit Mount Denson. It is an old saying of the French, that " he who has not seen Paris has seen nothing." In like manner, he who travels on this continent and does not spend a few days on the shores of this beautiful and extraordinary basin, may be said to have missed one of the greatest attractions on this side of the water. Here, too, may be studied the phenomena of tides, that are only presented to the same extent in one other part of. the world ; while the mineralogist and geologist will lind much to employ and interest him. It possesses also the charm of novelty. It lies out of the beaten track, and is new. In these days of steam, how long will this be the case anywhere ? While musing on this subject, my attention was directed by Mr. Slick, who suddenly reined up his horse, to a scene of a different description. " There," said he, "there is a pictur' for you. Squire. Now, that's what minister would call love in a cottage, or rural felicity, for he was fond of fine names, was the old man." As we emerged from A wood, there stood before us a neat and pretty little cottage having an air of comfort about it not often found in the forest, where the necessaries of life demand and engross all the attention of the settler. " Look at that crittur," said he, " Bill Dill Mill. There he sets on the gate, with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, a-doin' of nothin', with a pocketful of potatoes, cuttin' them up into small pieces with his jack-knife, and teachin' a pig to jump up and catch 'em in his mouth. It's the schoolmaster at home, that. And there sets his young wife a-ba!ancin' of herself on the top rail of the fence opposite, and a-swingin' her foot backward and forrerd, and a-watchin of him. Ain't she a heavenly splice that? By Jacob's spotted cattle, what an ankle she has I J 1st look ! a raal corn-fed heifer that, ain't she? She is so plump she'd shed rain like a duck. Them blue-no^es do beat all in gals, I must say, for they raise some desperate handsome ones. But then there is nothin' in that crittur. She is nothin' but wax-work — no life there ; and he looks tired of his bargain already — what you call fairly onswaggled. Now don't speak loud, for if she sees us she'll cut and run like a weasel. She has got her hair all covered over with paper-curls, and stuck thro' with pins, like a porcupine's back. She's for a tea-squall to-night, and nothin' vexes women like bein' taken of a nonplush this way by strangers. That's matrimony. Squire, and nothin' to do ; a honeymoon in the woods, or young love grow'd ten days old. Oh, dear ! if it was me, I should yawn so afore a week, I should be skeerd lest my wife should jump down my throat. To be left alone that way idle, with a wife that has nothin' to do and nothin' to say, if she was as pretty as an angel, i vn ■J 'y f m III ■*'M 330 THE CLOCKMAKER would drive me melancholy mad. I should either get up a quarrel for vanity's sake, or go hang myself to get out of the scrape. A tame, vacant, doll-faced, idle gal I O Lord ! what a fate for a man who knows what's what, and is up to snuflf! Who the plague can /ive on sugar candy ? I am sure I couldn't. Nothin' does for me like honey ; arter a while I get to hate it like sin ; the very sight of it is enough for me. Vinegar ain't half so bad ; for that stimulates, and you can't take more nor enough of it if you would. Sense is better nor looks any time ; but when sense arid looks goes together, why, then, a woman is worth havin', that's a ft ct. But the best of the joke is, that crittur Bill Dill Mill has found out he 'knows too much,' and is most frettin' himself to death about it. He is actilly pinin' away so, that it will soon take two such men put together to make a shadow ; and this I will say, that he is the tirst feller ever I met that actilly was * too knowin' by hal/J But time progresses, and so must we, I guess." The noise of the waggon, as Mr. Slick anticipated, soon put the young bride of the woods to flight, and a few hasty and agile bounds carried her to the house ; but her curiosity proved quite as strong as her vanity, for the paper head was again visible, peeping over the window-blind. The bridegroom put up his knife with an air of confusion, as if he was half ashamed of his employment, and having given a nod of recognition to Mr. Slick, turned and followed his wife into the cottage. " This is the effect," said Mr. Slick, " of a want of steady habits of industry. That man lives by tradin', and bein' a cute cha-i, and always gitting the right eend of the bargain, folks don't think it a profitable business to sell always to a loss ; so he says he is ruined by knowiri too much. * Ah ! ' said he to me the other day, * I don't know what on airth I shall do, Mr. Slick ; but I am up a tree, you may depend. It's gone goose with me, I tell you. People have such a high opinion of my judgment, and think I know so much^ they won't buy nor sell with me. If I go to an auction, and bid, peopio say, " Oh, if Bill Dill Mill bids, then it must be cheap, and it goes beyond its valy right away." If I go to sell anything, everyone thinks I wouldn't sell it if I hadn't a very good reason for it, for I am too knowin^ for that. If I offer to swap, I only stamp a valy on the thing I want, and put it right out of-my reach ; for the owner wouldn't let me have it at no rate, but doubles his price, and goes and says, " Bill Dill Mill offered me so much for it, and everybody knows he only offers half a thing is worth." I can't hire a help for what anybody else can, for the same reason ; and I had to marry before I was ready, or had quite made up my mind to it ; for I knew folks would think twice as much of my gal as soon as they knew I was after her. Dam it,' said he, * if they said I was a fool I wouldn't a' minded it a bit ; or said it was luck, or anything-. Indeed, I don't know as I wouldn't as lief they'd call me a rogue, as say for ever and ever, " Oh^ he is too knowirf ., ( ' TOO KNOWING BY HALF 331 by halfr It's the divil, that's a fact. Before this misfortin came I useil to do a considerable smart chance of business ; but now it's time for me to cui dirt, and leave the country. 1 believe I must hang out the G. T. T. sign.' 'Why, what the plague is that?' says I. * Gone to Texas,' said he. ' What else on aiith shall I do. I have nothin' to see to, and the day seems twice as long as it used to did.' * Ah ! ' says I, ' I have heerd folks say so afore, when they was jist new married. But I see what you w.mt ; you want excitement. How would politics do? It's a wide field, and some considerable sport in it, too. Agitate the country ; swear the Church is a-goin' to levy tithes, or dissenters to be taxed to support them, or that the Governor is a-goin' to have martial law. Call office-holders by the cant tarms of compact cliques and official gang, and they will have to gag you with a scat in the council, or somclhin' or another, see if they don't.' ' No,' said he, a-shakin' of his head ; 'poor business that ; there is nothin' to be made by it, as far as I see, but inimies ; and, besides, people aie fond of a change ; they get tired of professions at last, and jist as you are a-going to reap the advantage, another feller outbids you, and carries off the prize. No, that won't do.' "'Well, preachin',' says I, 'how would that answer? Take up some new pint, and you will have lots of folks to hear you ; and the more extravagant the better. Go the whole figur' for " religious liberty " ; it h.is no meanin' here, where all are free, but it's a catch- word, and sounds well. You don't want ordination nowadays ; it's out of fashion. Give yourself a call ; it's as good as any other man's call. A man that can't make himself a preacher is a poor tool, that's a fact, and not fit to make convarts.' * Hem ! ' says he, * I was a-thinkin' of that, for ministers fare well in a gineral way, that's sartin ; and a-travellin' about, and a-livin' on the best, and sleepin' in the spare bed always, ain't a bad move nother ; but I han't the gift of the gab, I am afeerd, and I couldn't come it no- how I could fix it.' ' Weil, 'lis awkward,' says I, ' to be thought too knowin! by half^ too ; did any one ever accuse you of bein' too industrious by half? ' ' What do you mean by that ? ' said he, a little grumpy like. 'Nothin',' said I, 'but what I say. Get a spinnin'-wheel for your wife, and a plough for yourself ; work more and trade less ; live by your labour, and not by your wits ; and the day, instead of being so 'tarnal long, won't be long enough by a jugful. Instead of bein' " too knowirC by half^^^ you don't ''''know half enough" or you'd know that.' " Fact, I assure you, Squire ; if that crittur had railly been a knowin' one, the name of it wouldn't a' fixed his flute for him, for there is always a why for every wherefore in this world. There is a thousand ways for managing that. Now I got the name myself. Them tricks in the clock trade I told you I didn't think you would go right away and publish ; but you did, and it put people on their guard, so there was no doin' nothin' with them for some tl 332 THE CLOCKMAKER * too knowin' by half,' I sot myself about gitten up something new ; so I took to time hardly ; and if I went to say a civil thing, people looked shy at me, and called out, ' Soft Sawder.' "Well, what does I do ? Instead of goin' about mopin' and complainin' that I was ' " repairin' damage, and phrenology. 'Soft Sawder' by itself requires a knowledge of paintin', of li};ht and shade, and drawin' too. You must know character. Some people will take a coat put on by a whitewash brush as thick as porridge ; others won't stand it if it ain't laid on thin, like copal, and that takes twenty coats to look complete ; and others, agin, are more delicater still, so that you must lay it on like gold leaf, and that you have to take up with a camel's-hair brush, with a, little pomatum on the tip of it, and hold your breath while you are a-spreadin' of it out, or the leastest grain of air from your nose will blow it away. But still, w.'»other laid on thick or thin, a cute person can tell what you are at ; though it tickles him so while you are a-doin' of it, he can't help showin' how pleased he is. But your books played the divil with me ; folks wouldn't let me do it at all arter they came out, at no rate ; first civil word always brought out the same answer : * Ah, now, that's your " Soft Sawder ; " that won't do.' ' Won't it tho' ? ' says I. * I'll give you the same ingredients in a new shape, and you will swaller it without knowin' it. or else I am mistakend, that's all.' So now, when I enter a location, arter a little talk about this, that, or the other, I looks at one of the young grow'd up gals airnest like, till she says, * Mr. Slick, what on airth are you a-lookin' at ? ' ' Nothin',' says I, ' my dear, but a most remarkable development.' ' A what ? ' says she. ' A remarkable development,' says I, ' the most remarkable, too, I ever see'd since I was raised.' * Why, what in natur' is that ? ' says she. ' Excuse me, miss,' says I, and I gets up, and puts my finger on her crown. • What benevolence ! ' says I, ' and firmnes>3 of character I did you ever ! — and then,' says I, a-passin' my finger over the eye-brow, * you ought to sing well, posit/v^/yy it's your own fault if you don't, for you have oncommon pitikilar powers that way. Your time is large, and tune great ; yes, and composition is strong.' 'Well, how strange!' says she. *You have guessed right, I sware ; for I do sin^, and am allowed to have the best ear for muslck in all these clearin's. How on airth c^n you tell? If that don't pass !' *Tell ! ' says I. 'Why, it's what they call phrenology, and a most beautiful study it is. I can read a head as plain as a book ; and this I will say, a finer head than your'n I never a'/V/see, posit/V^/y. What a splendid forehead you have ! it's a sight to behold. If you was to take pains, you could do anything a'most. Would you like to have it read, miss?' Well, arter hearin' me pronounce aforehand at that rate, she is sure to want it read ; and then I say, ' I won't read it aloud, miss ; I'll whisper it in your ear, and you shall say if I am right.' * Do,' says she. ' I should like to see what mistakes you'll make, for I ; ■:'■ •» I TOO KNOWING BY HALF 333 \ can't believe it possible you can tell. It don't convene to reason, does it ?' " Nothin', Squire, ever stops a woman when her curiosity is once up, especially if she be cur*ous to know somethin' about herself. Only hold a secret out in your hand to her, and it's like a bunch of catnip to a cat ; she'll jump, and frisk, and frolic round you like anything, and never give over purrin' and coaxin' of you till she gets it. They'll do anything for you a'most for it. So I slides out my knee for a scat, and says, * It's no harm, miss, you know, for ma is here, and I must look near to tell you ;' so I draws her on my knee without waitinj^ for an answer. Then gradually one arm goes round the Wuist, and t'other hand goes to the head, bumpologisin', and I whispers, 'Wit, paintin', judgment, fancy, order, musick, and every good thing a'most.' And she keeps a-sayin', * Well, he's a witch I Well, how strange I Lawful heart I Well, I want to knew ! — now I never ! Do tell 1 ' as pleased all the time as anything. Lord ! Squire, you never see anything like it ; it's Jerusalem fine fun. Well, then I wind up by touchin' the back of her head hard (you know, Squire, what they call the amative bumps are located there), and then whisper a bit of a joke to her about her makin' a very, very lovin' wife, and so on ; and she jumps up, a-colourin', and a-sayin', ' It's no such a thing. You missed that guess, anyhow. Take that for not guessin' better 1 ' and pretendin' to slap me, and all that, but actilly ready to jump over the moon for delight. Don't my clocks get fust admired and then bough ten arter this rcadin' of heads, that's all. Yes ; that's the beauty of phrenology. You can put a clock into their heads when you are a-puttin' other fine things in, too, as easy as kiss my hand. I have sold a 'nation lot of them by it. " The only thing agin' phrenology is, it's a little bit dantjerous. It's only fit for an old hand like me, that's up to trap ; for a raw one is amazin' apt to get spooney. Takmg a gal on your knee that way, with one hand on her heart, that goes pitty-pat like a watch tickin', and the other a-rovin' about her head a-discoverin' of bumps, is plaguy apt to make a fool of you without your knowin' of it. Many a bird has got fascinated so afore now, that, do what it would, it couldn't get away. It might flutter and struggle a little; but at last it would fall as helpless as anything, right down. But then a fool is a fool, all the world over. For my part, I am not afeerd of none of them. This, Squire, is what I call reason, and knowin' the world. A wise man is never taken at a nonplush. But Bill Dill Mill is a noodle ; and such a one, too, as it would take seven fools and a philosopher to make, and even then they wouldn't make no part of a primin' to him. He has got everything to lam yet, that feller ; for a crittur that is ' too knowin* by ha'f' way know too much for other folks? good^ but he don't know ^ half enough 'for his own^ that's a fad" '< j! !• \m 'm \^. n-f I .r. ' It ( a i-. 334 / tHE CLOCKMAKER CHAPTER IX MATRIMONY u " Talkin' of that young bride of Bill Dill Mill and phrenology, continued the Clockmaker, " puts me in mind of a conversation I had with minister about women jist afore I came down here the last time. The old man was advisin' of me to marry, and settle down in Slickville, into what he called ' a useful member of society.' Poor old crittur ! he is so good himself, he thinks no harm of no one, and looks on a gal as a rose without a thorn, or an angel in petticoats, or somethin' of that kind ; but book-lamed men seldom know nothin' but books, and there is one never was printed yet worth all they got on their shelves, which they never read, nor even so much as cut the leaves of, for they don't onderstand the handwritin', and that is — human natur'. On most subjects no man could advise better nor minister ; but on the question of woman he is as dreamy as a poet, chock full of romance and nonsense, and actilly talks blank varse, where the rhyme is left out. It's considerable of a long yarn, but it will give you some idea what an innocent, pure-hearted, dear old crittur he IS ; indeed, among our ministers he is actilly at the top of the pot. He is quite ' a case,' I do assure you. *' One arternoon, as we was a-sittin' together smokin', says he, awakin' up out of one of his bouts of cypherin' in his head, ' Sam,* says he, ' it's most time you was thinkm' of settlin' yourself in the world. By all accounts you are considerable well-to-do now, and have made an everlastin' sight of money among the blue-noses of Nova Scotia ; you should look round for a helpmate, and pick yourself out a raal, complete, right-down good wife. There is nothin' like matrimony, nothin' like home, nothin' on airth to be compared to a vartuous woman. They are somethin' better than men, and somethin' jist a little less than angels, when you fall in with one of the right kind. Oh, a right-minded, sound- minded, and pure-minded woman is the greatest and best work of God. Man was made out of gross materials, of nothin' but clay and spittle ; but woman, she was made out of the rib of man, twice refined and remoulded, as it were, from a substance that had been cleared of its dross by a process of previous formation. She was the last work of creation — the best, the most finished, the most beautiful. Man is airthenware, coarse, rude, rough and onseemly. Woman is porcelain, a crittur highly finished and delicate. Man was made for knockin' about, he is tough and strong ; but woman, to be taken care of and handled gently. What a sweet thing is innocence, Sam ; how beautiful to contemplate, how lovely to associate with 1 As a philosopher, I admire purity in the abstract, but, as a man and a Christian, I love it when parsonified. Purity MATRIMONY 335 i'-y ft J • in a child, of such is heaven ; purity in woman, of such also is the realms of bliss ; but purity in man — oh, Sam, I am most afeerd, sometimes, there ain't much of it anywhere nowadays, I snore. But matrimony, Sam, is a state ordained by God, not only to carry out his great purposes that is above our comprehension, but also for our happiness ; yes, it is a nateral state, and a considerable of a pleasant one too, when well considered and rightly entered upon. Don't put it off too long, Sam ; don't wait till the heart ossifies.' * Ossifies?' says I; *why, what the plague is that. Minister?' * Why, Sam,' says he, * you ought to be ashamed to ax that 'are question. I do believe, in my soul, you have forgot all you ever lamed while tradin' among them benighted critturs in the British Provinces. Ossifies means growin' into a hard substance like a bone.' ' Oh,' says I, * now I see ; and that's the reason of the old sayin', when a man licks his wife like a sack, " I've got a bone to pick with you, my dear," says he, and shows the crittur's heart is ossified. There are some men, I know, that would find it the luckiest thing that ever happened them to have their hearts ossified, if it took that turn sometimes. You may rave as much as you please. Minister, about purity, and porcelain ware, and vartue, and all that 'are sort of thing, till you are tired, but there are some women I've see'd that have more of the devil and less of the angel in 'em than you are a-thinkin* on, / can tell you. Regular built bruisers too ; claw your eyes right out, like a Carolina gouger, and walk right into you afore you know where you be.' * Well,' said he, ' p'raps so ; it mought be the case since the fall, but that's mostly our own faults, our own bringin' of them up. But I was a-goin' to explain to you about the heart. As we grow old, it hardens, and loses its feelin'. When we are young it is as sensitzV^ as anything ; you can't hardly touch it without givin' it pain or pleasure. It is so cute, and beats so strong and quick that its sensations are plaguy powerful Well, as we advance in years, the outer coverin' of it hardens, and gets as rough as the bark of a hemlock tree, and when you peel that off, then there is a hard, close, tough rind all round it, and inside that another, they call the inner cutickle. Ingrati- tude, and disappointment, and onkindness, and the wear-and- tear of the world does this, so as to defend the heart from sufferin' pain all the time. I guess it's a wise provision of natur', a marciful dispensation that. If we don't feel so much pleasure, we feel less pain ; we have less and less hearty until we get gradually weaned from airthly things, and put our affections on things above. The passions cease to play, and reason begins to dominate in their place. We are less the critturs of feelin', and more the subjects of wisdom. You apprehend me, Sam, don't you?' ' It's as plain as a pike-staiT,' says I, ' and as clear as mud. That ossified skm you talk of puts me in mind of them nasty, dirty, horrid critturs, the Scotch and Irish peasants. They don't wear '< ■fo f I i mi •If 33^ THE CLOCKMAKER no shoes and stockings, but go barefooted, and their soles become as hard as the hoofs of jackasses ; and them little, short-legged, hairy Highlanders kick every bit as hard, and twice as wicked, as donkeys too. They are shockin' critturs them, for if there's a part about a man or woman that's not fit to be seen at no time, it's the foot. Women that go that way put me in mind of a divin' duck there is at Labrador, that has a red shank and a black-webbed foot ; our sailors call 'em the immigrant ladies ; and them ducks act exactly like the gals, too, a-flirtin' and a-frolickin' about like fun. You'll see a duck now. Minister, sailin' round and round about her mate, ever so slow, to attract his attention, like ; and when he sees her and makes up to her, smirkin' and courtin', she jist downs with her head and ups with her legs, and away she dives right out of sight in no time, leavin' him alone, starin' and wonderin' like a fool. That gets his dander up immediately, and when he sees her come up agin, off he sets arter her hot foot, and she gives him the dodge agin ; and when they get tired of that fun, they sail off together, a-liftin' up their heads and a-gabblin' away like anything, so pleased. Rompin' seems kinder nateral to all created critturs, and the female is everywhere a tormentin', wicked, teasin' little toad. Natur* is natur*, that's a fact.* * Well, Sam,' said he, larfin', ' for a man that minds the main chance tolerable well as you do, I never see'd one yet so amazin' full of nonsense as you be ; you have such strange ideas as never entered into no soul's head but your own, I do believe : and yet, as you say, mirth and playfulnesr does seem kinder nateral. The Latin poet, Virgil, if you han't forgot all you ever lamed at night-school with me, has beautifully illustrated that.' He then said some Latin about a gal peltin' her spark with apples, but I misrtmember the words." " Perhaps he quoted these lines," said I : • Malo me Galatea petit, Lasciva puella Et fugit ad Salices, sed se cupit ante videri.' " " Ay," said Mr. Slick, " them's the very identical ones. * Now,* says Minister, 'that is nalur', for he was natur's poet, was Virgil.* * Natur',' says I ; ' I guess it is natur*. A little mnicent rompin' (it must be innicent tho'. Minister,' said I, and I looked up to him as demure as you please), * is what I call primUive and nateral, and I must say, I am shocking fond of a little of it myself.* * You ai J right,' said he, * to say innocent, Sam, for nothin' that's not innocent ever gives real pleasure ; nothin' that's impure can be happy. The fact is, I don't jist altogether like the word rompin' : it's a coarse thing, and a vulgar thing, and only fit for such benighted critturs as them in the British Provinces ; say mirth, innocent mirth, and then I agree with you : tAa^ I do approbate. I delight in iAafy it's a sign of a sweet disposition, a pure mind. '1- M ' fa ds re " It " I( T th / • r. he sh H • tra fr wt ■- ■■' fie a be SUJ - gei ad i ■ fio^ -'\ vis '\ dis be. an( mi bui pri mt , *■" OU] it. ma bo< wa the Ski itt the is i onl a'n wo has an( I MATRIMONY 337 and a light heart. But mirth is different from rompin'. It don't admit, as rompin' does, of obstropolous noise, nor ticklin', nor screamin', and things that don't seem quite decent ; call it mirth, and I won't non-concur you.' ' You may call it what convenes you, Minister,' says I, * but still it's the identical same thing, that's a fact. It puts life into a body. It piques you, and raises your dander like. I must say, I like a romp dearly. Now, that's the reason married folks are so everlastin' striped ; they never romp. It makes me feel skeery of matrimony, to see it so heavy and sour. I don't wonder so many folks at Slickville have got the dyspepsy ; the only thing I wonder at is, how they can digest it at all. I guess, now, if a married woman was to imitate that 'are divin* duck, give her husband the dodge now and then, and whenever he came near hand to her, jist race off and let him chase her, she'd — ' 'Ahem!' says Minister, 'ahem I Sam, we won't illus- trate, we won't enter into details, if you please ; where was we when we got off into this rompin' digression ? ' ' Why,' says I, * you was advisin' of me to get married afore my heart got bona- fied.' ' Ossafied,' said he, * I didn't say bonafied.' * 1 wish it was a bond fide one, that's a fact.' 'True, Sam, marry airly, marry before the feelin's become blunted, and before you grow suspicious and cold. All our young emotions are good and generous ; but we become jealous, selfish, and mean, as we advance in years. At tirst we see nothin' but the roses and flowers of life afore us, and our young eyes are so good, and our vision so cute, the colours all look bright and beautiful, and we can distinguish all the tints and shades ever so far off, as plain as can be. Well, away we go to gather them, to make 'em into garlands and weave 'em into wreaths, and never think of the ten thousand million of thorns that are onder the leaves and are all over the bushes. Well, first we tear all our clothes to tatters, and then we prick our fingers, and inflammation and fester comes ; and run 'em mto our feet, and contraction and lameness comes ; and scratch our little faces till the tears run down our cheeks and mingle with it. But that ain't the worst of it, by a long chalk, neither ; for many a time, jist as we pull the rose, and go to put it to our bosoms, away goes all the leaves, a-flutterin' off to the ground ; it was too full-blown to bear rough handlin', and we get nothin' but the stem in our hand, and ever so manv prickles a-stickin' into the skin. And if we do succeed in gettin' the rose arter all, and take it to home, why, next mornin' when we wake up and look at it, oh ! the leaves are all edged with brown and dirty yaller, and the sprig is all wilted, and it looks flabbergastered like and faded ; and it's only fit to be throwed out of Lhe windur, for nothin' looks so bad a'most as a wilted flower. Jist so is the world, Sam ; only the world has its thorns for the heart, and that's more than the rose has. And who shall heal them ? Philosophy may give its styptics, and religion its balm, but there are some wounds in that place, 1 laP' 33* THE CLOCKMAKER Sam ' — and he clapt his hand on his breast, and did look dreadful bad, poor old crittur ; and I pitied him from the bottom of my soul, for I knowed what he was leadin' to — 'there are some wounds here, Sam,' said he, * that the eye cannot see, nor the hand reach — which nothin' a'most can cure. They may heal ovt and get cicatrised, and seem all right agin ; but still they are so tender, you can't bear to touch them without wincin', and every now and then they open of themselves, like old scars do in the scurvy, and bleed, and throb, and ache — oh 1 how they ache 1 " * When my elders discharged me, Sam, and reformed me out, and took a Unitarian in my place, I actilly thought my heart would a' burst with grief,' and his voice quivered and trembled like anything, and a great big tear-drop rose up in the corner of his eye, and swelled, and swelled, till it bust, and run over, and trickled down one of the furrows of his cheek ; but he wouldn't let on he knowed it, and wouldn't wipe it off, hopin' I wouldn't see it, I suppose. It actilly a'most made me pipe my eye to see him, it was so affectin'. So says I, ' I know it all. Minister,' says I. * We won't talk of that. What's done is done ; but the loss is theirs, and it sarves them right.' But it didn't stop him ; he went right on. * For, oh 1 Sam,' said he, ' the fountain of love lies in the deepest recesses of the human heart. It may cease to gush over, as it does in youth, when it is fed by a thousand rills of emotion. The wintry frosts of old age may dry up some of its springs, and the lacerations of ingratitude may drain off and limit its supply ; but deep and far down is the well, Sam, where summer-heats and wintry frost cannot penetrate ; and its water, what little is left of it in old age, is as pure, and sweet, and pellucid as ever, and there it remains till the temple that covers it (that's the body, you see, Sam), crumbled and mouldered by time, totters to its fall, and chokes it in its ruins. But oh I Sam, if our friends, them that we dearly loved, basely desert us at last, and meanly betray us ; if them we admitted to our confidence, and folded with affection to our bosoms, pour into that fountain the waters of bitterness, and pollute it at its source, better, far better, that we had died first. I could have met my end as became my vocation and my principles had the blow been dealt out by enemies, Sam ; but oh I it came from my friends — from them that I loved as brothers — nay, more than as brothers, as children. It was too much for my narves. It overpowered my strength, and I hid my face in my hands as Caesar did m his mantle, and wept like a child. " Et tu^^ said I — for I couldn't help a-thinkin' of that 'are old Republican hero, for it was jist the way them 'are pretended reformers sarved him out — " Et tu^^ says I, " ^/ tUy Brute/" ' ' You might well say a brute,' says I ; * and if I had a' been near hand to them, I'd a' sarved them like a brute too, I them on the rump common in the fall. know. I'd a' as they do a cropt their ears, and branded horse that's turned out on the I'd a' marked them V.B. (the voluntary -*^;' MATRIMONY 339 brutes 1), hang me if I wouldn't. I'd a' kicked them till I kicked their western eends up to their shoulders, and made 'em carry 'em there like a mason's hod. " Sich a <;itiin' up stairs you never did see."' 'Sam,' said he, * you actiliy frighten me, you talk so savage ; it makes my blood run cold. Let us leave the subject, and go right back to what we was a-talkin' ot ;' and he passed his hand over his face hard, as if to shove back the expression o' pain and sorrow that was there, and keep it out of view ; and then, said he, a-lookin' up all bright agin, ' Where was we, Sam ? for my mind goes a-woolgathering some- times, and gets confused. Where was we .'" ' A-talkin' of the gals,' says I. ' Exactly,' says he ; ' it's a pleasanter topic that, and the contemplation of the dear critturs softens our natur's, " nee sinit esse Jeros^^ nor suffers us to be ferocicjus. Nothin' tames a man like a woman.' 'I guess so,' says I. 'Yes, my son,' said he, 'get married, and marry soon; it's time you were a thinkin' on it now in airnest.' ' W^ell, I feel most plaguily skeered, Minister,' says I, 'to try, for if once you get into the wrong box, and the door is locked on you, there is no escape as I see ; and besides, women are so everlastin' full of tricks, and so cunnin' in hidin' 'em aforehand, that it's no easy matter to tell whether the bait has a hook in it or not ; and if you go a-playin' round it, and a-nibblin' at it, why, a sudden jerk given by a skilful hand may whip it mto your gills afore you know where you be, and your flint is fixed as shure as there are sna,ke3 in Varginy. You may tug, and pull, and haul back till you are tired ; but : the more obstropolous you become, the faster the hook is fixed in, and the sorer the place is. Nothin' a'most is left for you but to come up to the line, and submit to your fate. Now, if you go for to take a widder, they are shocking apt to know too much, and are infarnal sly ; and if you take a maid, it's an even chance if you don't spile her in breakin' her in, and she don't bolt and refuse a heavy pull. If they are too old they are apt to be headstrong from havin' had their head so long ; and if they are . too young, they are hardly way-wise enough to be pleasant. ^ Which, now, do you recommend, Minister, widder or maid?' Poor old crittur 1 I knojv'd well enough he didn't know nothin* about it, havin' had no experience among women any more nor a child ; but I axed him to humour him, for most men like to be thought knowin' on that subject. 'Why,' says he, a-lookin' up wise-like, ' that's a matter of taste, Sam ; some prefers one, and some prefers the other.' (So like human natur' that, warn't it, Squire ? You never heerd a man in your life, when axed about woman, say, ' That's a subject I ain't jist altogether able to speak on,' and yet plaguy few know much more about 'em than that women wear oetticoats, and men don't.) ' It's quite a matter of taste,' said he ; ' but, as far as my experience goes,' says the old man, ' I am half inclined to opinionate that widders make the best m / 340 THE CLOCKMAKER /' wives. Havin* lost a husband, they know the slender tenure we have of life, and are apt to be more considerate, more kind, and more tender than maids. At all events, there is enough in the idea to put them on equal tarms. I guess it's six of one and half-a- dozen of t'other, not much to choose anyway. But, whichever it be, you must prove their temper first and their notions ; see what sort o' sisters and darters they make ; try — but, dear me 1 how late it is,' said he, a-lookin' at his watch, ' how late it is 1 I must go, for I have a sick visit. I still visit my dear lost flock, as if they hadn't a-used me so ill, Sam. I forgive them, all of 'em. I don't harbour any hard thoughts agin any of them. I pity 'em, and always remember *em in my prayers, for our rel'gion is a religion of the heart, and not of the head, as political dissent is. Yes, I must go, now ; but I'll give you a word of advice at partin', my dear boy. DorUt marry too poor a gal^ for they are apt to think there is no eend to their husbancTs puss ; nor too rich a gat ^ for they are apt to remind you of it onpleasanl sometimes ; nor too giddy a galy for they neglect their families j nor too demure a one ^ for they are most apt to give you the dodgc^ race off^ and leave yon ; nor one of a different sect^ for it breeds discord; nor a weak-minded one^ for children take all their talents from their mothers ; nor a — ' * Oh, Lord I ' says I, * Minister, how you skeer a body 1 Where onder the sun will you find a nonsuch like what you describe? There ain't actilly no such critturs among women.' ' I'll tell you, my son,' said he, * for I'd like afore I die to see you well mated ; I would, indeed ! I'll tell you, tho' you talk to me sometimes as if I didn't know nothin' of women. You think nobody can't know 'em but them as romp all their days with them as you do ; but them, let me tell you, know the least, for they are only acquainted with the least desei*ving. I'll gin you a gage to know 'em by that is almost invariable, universal, infallible. The character and conduct * of the mother is a sure and certain guarantee for that of the darter: " CHAPTER X THE WOODEN HORSH -^ ■'-■■<• '••* -.1;' No person on entering the harbour of St. John for the first time could suppose that it was the outlet of one of the larfi^est rivers on the American Continent, as it is in no way to be distinguished in appearance from any of those numerous inlets of the sea that render the coast of the British provinces everywhere accessible to ships of the largest class. As soon, however, as he gets a view of this noble stream, and becomes acquainted with its' magnitude, he feels that St. John is destined by nature, as well as the activity and THE WOODEN HORSE 341 intelligence of its inhabitants, to become the next largest city to New York on this continent. "Sensible folks, these IJrunswickers," said Mr. Slick; "raal right-down men of bizness, and no mistake. They don't take it all out in talkin', as some people do. If they have any politicks to do, they do it, as they load a vessel, as fast as they can do it well, and a' done with it. They are jist a pattern to them Canady goneys to cut their garment by, if they had the sense to follow it. I met old Jeremiah Sterling this mornin'. You have heerd tell of him, Squire? He is the richest man in the city. He is an O. F. M., as we call Our First Men among ui. 'Well,' says I, * friend Jeremiah, how do you kinder sorter find your elf to-day ?' 'Why, kinder sorter middlin',' says he, ' Mr. Slick ; wh..t you call considerable nimble, and spry. We are gittin' on well here— very well indeed. We have a good many 'sponsible men growed up here since you was this way, and our credit is good. We stand No. I, letter A.' 'Well,' says I, ' if it is, it won't be that way long, I can tell you. The less you talk about 'sponsibility the better the En.^lish marchants and Wall Street brokers will trust you, I know.' * Why,' says he, * what on airth are you a-talkin' about ? I don't onderstand you. You are at your old trick of riddlin'.' ' Why,' says I, ' responsible government, to be sure. Didn't you say you had a good many 'sponsible men growed up here lately ? ' * Well, that's notable,' said he. ' Lawful heart 1 if that don't beat gineral trainin' ! How could you suppose I meant such cattle as them ? No,' says he; 'come with me, and I'll indicate what 'sponsibility is, for the street is no place to talk over such matters in,' and he took Hie into his countm'-room, and, touchin' a spring, opened a great iron door, and then onlocked another of the same kmd, and showed me a great iron safe on wheels like a gun-carriage. Well, it was chock full of doubloons and sovereigns, and splendid American eagles ; it was actilly good for sore eyes to look at 'em. And then he opened another, filled half-way up to the top with bank paper, notes of hand, bonds, and mortgages, and stuff of that kind. He stood fo~ the whole endurin' space of five minutes a-coniemplatin' of it, without sayin' of a word, only smilin'. At last says he, ' Slick ' (and he let down the lid with a slam that smelt of thunder), ' that's what / call ^sponsibility. I didn't aim that little lop of specie a-talkin' over politicks^ you may depend, but talkin' over customers. Your 'sponsible men want no indorsers, do you twig ? Now, who has most interest in takin' care of that " stake " that it don't go for it by fire, or sympathisers, or what not — me or that 'are chatterin', jawin' watchman of mine ?' * Why, you,' says I, ' you, of course.' * Exactly,' says he ; ' and so it is in politicks. Them critturs that race about like a runaway steamboat callin^ fire ! fire / and disturbing all honest folks in their beds^ cuss ^em / They have nothin* to lose by afire if it does come; but in the scramble they generally find somethin' or another to pick up that m I "i^i m m 342 THE CLOCKMAKER they didtit work for. Now, them chaps, patriots, Durhamites, arsond.iries, and whiit not, at Canatiy, remind mc of our engine- men. Any engine that gets to a fire first, if it's only a chimbley a-blazin', gets five pounds out of the pockets of the people. Cryiti *^Fire ! " is a profitable trade in more things than one' "Jeremiah was ri;j;ht, Squire. It's a piiy Government evei listened to colonial ajjitators. It was erroneous considerable. It would have been better for Enj^land, and better for the colonies too, if they hadn't ; and that they'll find some o' these days, or my iiame is not Sam Slick. But John wants a commission o' lunacy taken out ; the foolish old crillur actilly seems possest. Concession never stopt agitation since the world was first squeezed out of a curd ; it only feeds it. Throwin' sops to varmint only brings 'em back agin ; and when you have nothin' more to throw to 'em, they are pla.juy apt to turn to and tare you to pieces. It puts me in mind of the wooden horse at Java. " That time I took the whalin' trip, we stopt at Java. Well, jist then there was a native chief there that almost drove the Dutch off the island. He cut off their outposts, broke up their settle- ments, druv away their cattle, seized their gals, and kicked up a regular built tornado. The Dutch Governor, old Vandam, who was as fat and heavy as a December bear, was fairly explunctified ; he didn't know what onder the sun to do. He was in a most awful feese. All he could say when people came with news was ' Tousand teyvils !' and the chief gave him news enough to say it all day long, until finally the outlaw-gentleman went by the nickname of ' Tousand Teyvils.' At last the Governor took a tub of tobacco, and a keg of good Hollands, and a dozen of his best pipes, and shut himself up in his castle for two whole days and two whole nights to study the ins and outs of the matter alone ; for talkin', he said, always put him out like a wrong figure in the first part of a sum, and he had to go over it all agin from the beginnin*. Well, at the eend of the two days and two nights the Governor opened the door, and ordered in more pipes and more skidam and schnap-glasses, and then sent for his council, and nodded to them to set down ; for he was a man of few words, was old Vandam, his maxim bein' that them that talked well was seldom good for nothin' else ; and the councillors squatted low, and didn't say a word. Then he looked at the liquor, and then at the glasses, and the servant filled them up chock full ; and then he looked at the door, and the servant went out, and shot it to after him. A Dutchman's eye don't often speak much ; but when it has any expression in it, it speaks to the pint, you may depend. Well, he motioned to them to drink, and they drank off their Hollands, and smacked their lips ; for if his licjuor warn't good, I want to know whose was, that's all. ' Oh, mme Cot ! ' says the Governor, takin' the pipe out of his mouth, and lettin' go a great long roll of smoke, as big as what comes from a steam-boat — ' oh, ':^f'^ ./ THE WOODEN HORSE 343 Coten Hymmel ! I have got one idea, and you shall see varte you shall see,' and he winked to them knowin' like, and sot down again. " It was a long speech for the Governor ; but he got thro' it, for he had made up his mind ; and when once a Dutchman makes up his mind, I have always observed you might as well think of turnin* Niagara as turnin' him. Well, the councillors sot there a-waitin' for the Governor to illuminate 'em on the subject of his idea, and drnnk and smoked till they drank and smoked all that was placed afore them, when the council always broke up. And when they rose to go, the Governor shook his head and said agin, * You shall see varte you shall see.' Well, next day I was woke up by a most riprorious noise in the street, folks beatin' drums and blowin' horns, and rattlin' arms and all sort of thinj^s a'most ; so I jumps out of bed in an all-fired hurry, and ups with the winder and outs with my head. * Hullo !' says I, 'what in natur* is all this to do about ? Who is dead, and what's to pay now ? ' * Oh ! ' says they, 'there is somethin' wus than gals in the bushes. The Governor komes out to the head of his army to fijjht Tousand Teyvils ; ' and they was very full of courage, was the Dutch, for they was more nor half-shaved then. Says I to myself, ' There will be sport to-day, see if there ain't, and you had better go and see the fun.' So thinks I, ' I don't much care if I do,' and I dresses myself as soon as I could, and runs down and joins them. " It was a most mortal hot day, and people actilly sweated to that degree it laid the dust ; indeed, where I was, m the rear, it began to be muddy a considerable some. I actilly thought I should a' died with the heat, it was so brilein', and was bt ginnin' to repent comin', when orders came to halt. And glad enough I was to hear 'em, you may depend. " We campt near a most a-beautiful meddow at the foot of a mountain, with good shade and lots of nice cool water, and we tumed-to to wash and make comfortable. Presently the horns blew a long, lively blast, and in a few minutes they was answered by another from the mountain. Then ten mules was brought out, and loaded with money and goods, and what not ; and a captain and his guard proceeded with them to the mountains, along with one of the councillors. And in two hours' time they returned, and then a gineral salute was fired by the whole line, for they had bought a peace with the nsitive chief. Everyone was delighted ; they not only nodded to each other, but actilly spoke. Some said ' Goot,' others said ' Vary goot,' and some hot-headed young fellers said 'Tam coot.' Then a report came Tousand Teyvils was to dine with the Governor ; and an invitation came to me, as represcntin' our great nation, to be present at the feed too. Well, we all formed into line to see the chief that people was so afeerd on ; for no one knew whether he was man or devil, no one havin' ever dared to show anything but a ■i'il I," I; \ ., 344 THE CLOCKMAKER back to him ; but he kept us waitin' for ever so long, for great men, I have obsarvcci, always arrive late at dinner ; it's only common people that jist come to the time, or may be a few minutes before, to make sure. Well, while we was waitin', the Governor goes into the dinner-tent to see all was right ; and arter walkin' all round it ever so slow, he turns to the head-waiter and gives a gnint, * Eugh,' says he, which is the Dutch for * It will do very well ; I am satisfied with your arrangements.' It is a beautiful language for a hot climate like Java is the Dutch, so little of it goes so far. It is like cayenne, the least spoonful in the world does the bizness. Then the Governor says, ' Casper,' says he fthat was the feller's Christian name, and it's very odd, I never %ee'd a Dutch sarvant that wam't named Casper), says he, * Ven I takes out my noshe-viper to blow my noshe after mit dog guesser' (which is low Dutch for dinner, 'cause it sets the dogs guessing and barking like mad), * that is a shine to you to do varte I told you for to do. Now, if you neglects, my coot Casper, then '—and he drew his finger across Casper's throat — which is the Dutch for sayin' ' I will have your head Xut off.' *' Poor Casper lifted up his hand to put it on his heart ; but he was so tarnation frightened, he didn't get it no higher than his breeches ; and thrustin' it into his pocket, which was big enough to hold a quart bottle, he bent over it and bowed down to the ground, which is the Dutch way of sayin' * I onderstand you, old boy, and will take devilish good care to mind my eye and save my head.' Jist then the guns fired a salute, which was a sign Tousand Teyvils was a-comin'; and sure enough there he was, a regular snorter by buth and edication, a tall, strappin', devilish handsome feller, with a cap and plumes stuck sideways like on his head. Well, as he marched along in the double line, folks seemed as amazed as if they was jist born, and hung back like as if it was Old Scratch himself agoin' to give 'em a taste of his breed, and they looked as skeered as if they had see'd a rifle lookin' at 'em eend ways ; and Tousand Teyvils curled up his upper lip, jist as you have see'd a pug-dog do his tail, with a slight twitch of his nose too, as much as to say, • Ain't you a pretty set of mean-spirited rap- scallions to come and buy your peace like cowards, instead of fightin' it out to the bat's- eend like brave men? Cuss you ! you han't an idea above your nasty, muddy, stinkin' canals and flag- ponds ; and all you care for is your tarnal schnaps and tobacco. Phew, you paltroons, how you stink of sour crout I ' *' He had a most audacious eye, I tell you : it looked exactly as it was forged out of lightnin* ; it wam't easy to look into it, that's a fact. It seemed to say, * I am a pickaxe, and will dig you out of your hole like a badger : I hope I may be gouged, if I don't.' Well, the Governor advances two steps to meet him, which is a great way for a governor to go, especially a Dutch one, and takin' him by the hand and bowin', says he, ' Mine goot frient — my prave "11 f't;- V % THE WOODEN HORSE 345 frient,' and then he suddenly began to stop, and his eyes swelled, ar.d the whole expression of his countenance altered, and the water c' coot — tam coot trick,' the company all said agin, and then they turned to smokin' and drinkin' till all was blue agin. The^ didn't get drunk, tho' they had a considerable of a muddy time of it too, because nothin' will make a Dutchman drunk ; but they sucked in the gin till they couldn't move hand or foot, or hear, or see, or speak, but sot bolt upright, starin' and gapin' like a house with the winders and doors knocked out. Now, instead of bein' ashamed of such a nasty, dirty, tmperlite, sneakin' trick as that they played poor Tousand Teyvils, they boasted of it ; for nothin' ever I see'd made a Dutchman ashamed, except forgettin' to carry his bag 6i tobacco. I 1. 346 THE CLCCKMAKER " * Tam dat old tief, dat Tousand Teyvils 1 * said the old Governor, and he blarted like a calf jist weaned, as if somethin' was the matter of him. Rut what can you expect of a Dutchman? * Ich rharter' (which is the Dutch for *I guess') — * Ich rharter, when he next has de high favour to shake hands mid a governor, he don't squeeze his hand like von lemon.' And they all said, ' '.ch yaw !' (which is the Dutch shorthand way for sayin' 'That is a capital joke of his Highness the Governor'). Well, there was great rejoicin' in Java over this bloodless victory, and the Governor ordered a pint of gin, a pound of tobacco, and two pipes to be sarved out to each soldier in camp for his bravery ; and two days arterwaids there was a grand review of the Dutch Army. Pretty-lookin' soldiers they were too, Squire ; it would have made you die a-larfin' to have see'd them. Either they had fell away greatly in that hot climate, or hadn't fatted up as they intended to do afore they died ; for their trousers hung so loose on 'em they could have stowed away their knapsacks, 'coutrements, and all, in 'em, instead of carryin' them on their backs. Howsumdever, they was satisfied ; and if they was, seein' that they had to carry them and not me, I didn't sec as I had any right to find fault, do you ? for my rule is to let every man skin his own foxes. Well, they marched and counter-marched, and fired, and all that 'are sort of work, jist as if they was in airnest ; and the boys shouted, and the women smiled, and the blacks grinned, and all went on swimmingly, like a house a-fire. Presently a great heavy piece of ordnance was fired off, and a booth was thrown open, and out came a'most an almighty big wooden boss — a London brewer's shaftcr wouldn' make the smallest part of a circumstance to him. He had a sple.ideriferous saddle-cloth that nearly covered his body, all trimmed with p.old, and a bridle all of polished worked steel, reins, and all ; and he was led by ten soldiers — five on one side, and five on the other — and mounted by a nait've rider superbly clad. His very jacket must have cost enough to set up a commoi*. man like me in the world. The boss looked so big and so fierce, you'd think these ten men couldn't hold him ; but as he was on wheels, I guess they gulled him instead of holdin' of him. Well, every now and then the o=r, that had machinery in it, would up-head, and snort and neigh, jist like natur', and out came gingerbread, and tarts, and sugar- candy, and fruit, and all sorts of j^ood things. Such a scramble you never did see ; fellows tumblin' head over heels, and fighting and quarrelling for a share of the goodies. Well, then he'd progress a little a-farther, and then go thro' the same menouvres, and move his head as exact like a live boss as ever you did see in all your life, and then came the pure gin. Oh, dear ! it was as good as a play to see them holdin' their hands, cotoa-nut shells, and hats, to catch the liquor as it came from the boss. " Rejoicin', like everything else in the world, must have an eend / THE WOODEN HORSE 347 at last (and Dutch rejoicin' don't last long at any time, as far as ever I see'd, especially when there ain't no smokin' in it), and so did their review. The people all went home pleased. The wooden hoss was a grand idea. It was worked out by General Vandam himself that time he shot himself up in his castle for two whole days and two whole nights a-studyin' over this nuitier of Tousand Teyvils ; and shows plain enough, to my mind, that a Dutchman can think, arter all, if you only ^ive him time enough. " The day arter the review I walked out over the exercisin' ground, and there lay the poor old hoss with his ribs broke in, his body ripped up, and his tail pulled out. While I was musin' over the fate of the hoss, who should I see but a little nig}.fer boy. So says I, * Come here, you little imp of darkness, you spawn of the old one, you, and tell tne how this is ? Is Tousand Teyvils loose aj.:ain ? Who killed the Governor's hoss ?' * Why,' says he, *massa' (for he spoke very good English, as he lived as help to a gentleman that kept a bumboat), 'him Dutchman conicd here last night in crowds, with carts and hogsheads and kegs, and they got old hoss and patted him, and " soff sawdered " him (you know dat word, massa ? him Yankee word, all same as blarney).' ' Yes,' says I, ' I have heerd tell of him afore.' 'Well, they coaxed him. " Come, good hoss, beautiful hoss ; a little drop rnore skidam, dat is good hossy ; a little more sweetmeat, dat's a pretty hoss ! " Well, dey holdy up his head, and lift up him tail ; but no, dat no go — hossy no gib any. At last liim Dutchmen get ' ngry. " Dunder and Blitzen ! " he say, "if you no gib him by fair means, you gib him by foul," and wid dat dey fall to aud rip him up to see what is in him. Well, massa, you sc- dem old iron chains, and rusty wheels, and dcm ugly pipes ? Well, dat is all dey found dere. Den dey turn to and abuse old Gobernor like sin. " Tarn old Gineral 1 " dey say ; " he one old big coward, one Erbarmlick 1" — dat's Dutch, massa, for awful bad — "one Erbarm- lick cheat ! Tousand Teyvils worth a hundred such old fools and knaves ! He no solda, that." Oh, massa ! nothin' a'most was too bad for him tongue to say of old Gobernor.' 'Well,' says I, 'here's sixpence for you, you young suckin' Satan, you. Now, make yourself scarce,' and he scampered off as smart as a two-year-old. " Now, Squire," said the Clockmaker, " it's a considerable of a long story that, and I am most afeerd I have tired you ; h\i\. John Bull Andi his CAony Patriots rewavA me of them Dutchmen and their wooden horse. As long as he will neigh, and whinner, and hold up his head, and give 'em cakes, and candy, and sweetmeats to eat, and skidam to drink, they are full and runnin' over with praises and professions of loyalty ; but as soon as he stops, then those same patriots, those M'Kenzies and Papinenus and devils have knives reidy to rip him up. Jo/in IhiU ilorU kntnv and dotft valy his raal friends enough. All are well disposed to hi n except w y 548 THE CLOCKMAKER them noisy critturs that run about, as old Jeremiah says, cryin* 'Fire fire ! ' but, cuss him, he is so near-sighted he never sees a whip till he feels it. The raally loyal people^ like raally relii^ious people^ donH talk of it for everlastingly. They seldom make professions ^ unless called for ; and aiii't found rebellin^ like patriots^ even when provoked. Their loyalty harit a co?idition to it like a mortgas^e. It aiuH cupboard-love t like that of the Dutchman to the Wooden Horse:' CHAPTER XI THE BAD SHILLING It was late at nijjht when we arrived at one of the frontier towns of the State of Maine, which, to avoid local offence, 1 shall designate as Quimbaj,fog. There was so much noisy disputation relative to politics and religion in the coffee-room of the inn that I retired early to bed with a bad headache, and not without some misgiving; that by visiting Maine first I had entered the States, to use an expression of the Clockmaker's, by the wrong door. In order that the sketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may be necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a Yankee^ a designation 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 population, who may well challenge a comparison with the inhabitaats 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 of different countries usually do. These sections differ also in dialect and in humour as much as in other things, and to as great, if not a greater, extent than the natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from each ether. It is customary in Europe to call all Americans Yankees, but it is as much a misnomer as it would be to call all Europeans Frenchmen. Ifcroughout these works it will be observed that Mr. Slick's pronunciation is that of the Yankee^ or an inhabitant of the rural districts of New England. His conversation is generally purely so ; but in some instances he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of Eastern origin. Wholly to exclude these would be to violate the usages of American life ; to introduce them oftener would be to confound two dissimilar THE BAD SHILLING 349 m dialects, and to make an equal departure from the truth. Every section has its own characteristic dialect, a very small portion of •vhich it has imparted to its neighbours. The dry, quaint humour of New England is occasionally found in the west, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of the west migrates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic exchange is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling propensities of the Americans and the constant intercourse mutually maintained by the inhabitants of the different States. A droll oi an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, though indigenous, soon becomes engrafted on the general stock of the language of the country. In using the term "language of the country," I mean that of the classes in humble life, of which Mr. Slick is "a member, as I hope I have never been so misunderstood as to render it necessary for me to say that I have no intention of imputing these idioms to any other. This explanation, while it accounts for an erratic man, like Mr. Slick, occasionally using some few phrases which are not native Yankeeisms, will enable the reader the better to understand the difference between the plebeian of the west and the east, as exhibited in the following sketch. During the stroll after breakfast on the following morning, Mr. Slick said, " Did you never mind. Squire, how hard it is to get rid of *a bad shillin',' how everlastin'ly it keeps a-comin' back to you ?" I said I had never experienced any difficulty of that kind, never having endeavoured to pass one that I knew was spurious. " No, I suppose not," said he, "because you are a careless kind of a man that way, and let your shillin's desart oftener than they had ought to. But vvhat would I have been had I been so stravagant ? And as to passin' bad money, I see no harm in it, if you have given valy for it, and received it above-boord han'sum, in the regular way of swap, trade or sale. Cheaiin' is giviu' a thing of no valy for somethin* that is. Now, a bad shillin' that has cost you as much as a good one can't be said, nohow you can fix it, to be a thing of no valy. S'pose any gentleman that keeps a pike was to give you a bad shillin' in change, you would have a right to pass it then, 'cause it had cost you a shillin'. The odds make the difference — do you take ? I'd like," he continued, " to go into comn\ittee with you on that matter (as we used to say to the House of Rip's), but there ain't time for it jist now, as the pirate said to the hangman when he was a-tyin' of the knot. Howsumdever it is so. I fell in with a bad shillin' last night, arter you went to bed, that I thought I had parted with at New Orleans five years ago, for ever. I had been sitiin' down talkin' over roads and travellin', and the clcarin's, and what not, in Nova Scotia last night with a gentleman that owns a free-trader at Quimbagog, the Honourable Lucifer Wolfe. I nn -remembered him at first, and I don't think I filled his eye chock full nother, for he s&rtaifi/y didn't know mc ■11 350 THE CLOCKMAKER when we first began our palarver. He was a tall man, over six foot high, all bone and muscle — not an ounce of super/?«ous flesh on him. I sce'd at once he warn't a na./ive of Maine, but a ringtail roarer from the West. He was all made of fox-traps and bears' claws, and as springy as a saplin' ash. Havin' been a considerable some in the African trade a-dealin' in niggers, he was very swarthy like, wore a most ungodly pair of whiskers, and had more hair than head, tho' that was none of the smallest nother. His eyes was full and hawk-like, and close together, but they squinted awful ; one on 'em mounted guard on his tumbler, and t'other on you, as if his fightin' and drinkin' liked keepin' company. His nose was hooked and thin, like the back of a jack-knife ; and a scar across one side of his face from the cut of a sword or a boardin'-pike, made the plump part of his cheek to scuttle down to the level of his jaw, and gave him a very savage kilniferous kind of look. He wore his neckcloth loose like a sailor's, which showed a raal bull-dog neck ; and, as he turned his head on its hinpes, you could see the silver hilt of a bowie-knifis that laid hid onder the cape of his coat, ready for use. I couldn't help a-thinkin' of Sister Sal when I see'd it, for she used to say she liked thing» that appealed to the heart. I wonder whether she'd call a bowie-knife pathetic or not, for few things sink as deep as they do. Then the two large padded flaps., like watch-pockets, to his frock-coat, showed pistols was concealed there. His shirt had two or three large gold broo::hes in it, and a chain of the same genuine material, as thick as a gal's finger, was suspended round his neck as a watch-guard, and his waistcoat was made of spotted calfs skin, tanned with the hair on, and the shaggy side showin' out. He looked half landsman, half seaman, with a strong dash af the fire-eater. Altogether he was a caution to look at, that's a fact. All at once he recollected my phiz, and jumpin' up and catchin' hold of my hand, which he squeezed as if it was in a vice, he roared out, * Why, it ain't possible 1' said he. * Lawful heart alive, .*f that airn't you 1 Where on airth did you spring from, since you gin over livin' whar you used to did ? Whar do you lead your life now ? Why, you have become qmie a big bug lately by your writin's : penmanship, I take it, is a better bizness than clock- makin'. But come, let's liquor ; I want to wet up ; the sight of an old friend warms my heart so, it makes my lips dry. What will you have ? cocktail, sling, julip, sherry-cobbler, purl talabogus, clear sheer, or switchell ? name your drink, my man, and let's have a gum-tickler, for old acquaintance, souAethin' that will go down the throat like a greased patch down a smooth rifle.' ' Well,' says I, * I am no ways pitikilar ; suppose we have brandy-cocktail, it's as 'bout as good a nightcap as I knov/ on.' 'Done,* said he, with a friendly tap on the shoulder that nearly dislocated my neck; * I like a man that knows his own mind, l^tost of our folks make as much fuss about choosing, as if their throats had any taste in \" THE BAD SHILLING 351 his them, and they actilly knew the difference ; bul they don't, that's a fact. New England rum takes the skin clear off, and they can't taste nothin' that's weaker. I'll go and speak for it to one of t'le gentlemen at the bar.' With that he swiggled his way thro' the crowd to the counter, and says he, * Major,' says he, ' I guess you may let one of your aidy-conks bring us a pint of cocktail, but let it be letter A, No. i, and strong enough to loosen the hmges of a feller's tongue.' Well, we sot down and chatted away till we finished our liquor, and now, says he, ' Slick, answer me a few questions, thi't's a good feller, for I am a free-trader now. I have got a'raost an ^.ngeliferous craft, a raal screemer, and I'm the man that sez it. The way she walks her chalks ain't no matter. She is a rigilar fore-and-after. When I hoist the foresail she is mad, and when I run up the mainsail she goes ravm' distracted. I can beat her up the harbour, wh ;n there is rips, raps, and rainbows under her bo- ; ay, walk her like a lady right into the wind's eye. Chvs 1 chips 1 and they know it a-bed. Heavens and airth 1 Jist lookin' at her will take away the breath from them white- livered, catfish-mouthed, dipt-candle lookin' scoundrels, the Brunswickers. She goes right on eend like a rampin' alligator. She'll go so quick she'll draw their wind out : go ahead ! cock-a- doodle-d jo 1 ' And he crowed like a raal live rooster. — * Go ahead, steam-boat — cock-a-doodle-doo ! ' and he smashed my hat in most ridikilous over my eyes, a-flappin' so with his hands, like wings. It was a caution to see, that's a fact. ' Now,' said he, ' Slick, my bully, I think I see a smart chance of doin' a consider- able stroke of business to Nova Scotia in the smuuglin' line. ** ' Is it true the British have made Hudson in Nova Scotia a free port?' ' It is.' ** ' Is it true that from Parsboro , at the head of the Basin of Minas, up to Windsor, it is thirty-five miles ?' 'It is.' "* Is it true the tide runs out so you can lay a-ground anywhar you darn please, on the mud-flats, with safety ? ' 'It is.' " ' Is it true you ain't bound to call at no custom-house till you get up to Windsor ? ' * It is.' " * Is it true they can't see you at \Vindsor till you come within two miles of it ?' 'his.' " ' Isn't Windsor almost clear across the province, no more than thirty-five miles from Halifax Basin ?' * It is.' "'Then,' says he, a-givin' me a most powerful slap on the thigh with his open hand, enough to make a beefsteak tender — ' then,' said he, and he grinned like a red-hot gridiron, the critter was so pleased, ' I defy all the blue-noses, John Bulls, Brunswickers, and devils that ever w 356 X THE CLOCKMAKER as he was a-thinkin' on. Havin' once got a taste of the good grass, the nasty onruly brutes of Outhouse's were for everlastin'ly a-breakin' in and ( lasin* our beasts from one eend of the pasture to the other. As for father, poor old sonl. he spent most of his time a-runnin' and a-hoUerin' arier them stray criiturs, and drivin' of them out. ' Well, if this don't beat the bugs,' he'd say. ' What a spot o' work this is sarA//nly. They are like a bad shillin' \\\cm. breachy devils, you can't gel rid of them at n^ rate. Put them out as often as you please, they are for everlastin'ly a-comin' back to you.' " I am a-thinkin','' said the Clockmakcr, *' the blue-noses will find th.it, arter a while, usin' the trade in common with us is like father's pastur*; their neighbouis h.ive two craft to their one to put in it, and bein* the strongest of the two, wiil gradually drive them off altogether, while shutting them out again is easier talked ot than done, and that when actilly debarred, the onruly ones will occasionally break in and cause 'tarnal trouble and expense. Changing one thing for another is not always reform^ as thry have found out in England^ to their sorrow^ in more things than one. But them who change often and unnecessary are apt sometimes to find to their cost, when it's too late, that they have mcautiously got hQXd^Qu'abadshillin'r' CHAPTER XII TRADING IN BED During one of our former journeys a circumstance occurred, that I did not understand at the time, but which * r. Slick now explained to me. On our return from Chester in Nova Scotia to Windsor, we stopped at a small house on the roadside, near a saw-mill, for the purpose of feeding our horse, and in the course of a conversation which, it appeared to me, was designedly intro- duced, relative to the stream and the adjoining timber-land, Mr. Slick extolled the " water-power," " mill-privilege " betterments and convenience and value of the place in terms of such extra- vagant praise, that the owner proposed to sell it to him, an offer which was immediately accepted. " You see,'' said Mr. Slick to him, " I ain't jist prepared to pay you right down on the nail in ha d pewter, not expectin' any such trade, but /'// bond it; that is, do you bind yourself in a bond to give a title, upon my payin' you five hundred pounds within two years. If I pay it, why then the land is mine ; and if I don't do so, why, there is no harm done. You take, don't you?" "Well, I don't know as I do," said blue-nose (who appeared puzzled at this novel mode of selling property, in which the bond was to be given to the wrong man). ** Why don't you give 7ne TRADING IN BED 357 a bond," said he, " for the purclinse-moncy, and I'll give vou a deed? I'll trust yoN, for you are good for more nor that." "-Why, I'll tell you," said the Clockmaker. " It's altogether for your advantage, anri saves trouble and expense, you see. Accordin' to your plan, if I didn't pay my l)ond when it's due, why, you'd lose the land. Now this way, you don't part with the hind till you get the money ; for you hold on till you are paid and finger the cash. It's safer and better {ot }'ou, and 1 must say I do like a fair deal. So now, do you take the pen and write the bond yourself to Erevent mistakes, and I will tell you what to put into it." The ond was accordingly written, duly executed, and delivered, and we proceeded on our journey. As this transaction had taken place some time ago, and never again been referred to by Mr. Slick, it had nearly es* iped my memory ; but the opportunity having now occurred of making an advantageous use of it, he unfolded his object witliout reserve. " We are now, Scjuire," said he, '* in the state of Maine, the head-quarters of land spekdators, and I'll put off my Chester friend's bond to an ad\ance. I never had no notion of buyin' that 'are feller's land. I don't want it no more nor my old waggon does a fifth wheel. I've been spekilatin' on his capital. If I don't sell the bond, I lose nothin' ; for I have paid nothin'. If I sell it, I gain all I can get for it. It is one of the best and prettiest modes of trading I know on ; but the difficultest part is all to do yet, and that is to sell it. Anybody can put the leake into a blue-nose, or a John Bull, for they are a primi/zV^, unsuspectin' sort of folks, not jist exactly up to snuff; but to walk into a down-east land- 1'obber requires great skill, I tell you, and a very considerable [nowledge of human natur* and of business. If your hook ain't well covered, and the bait well chose and suited to the season, they won't so much as look at it. If you pull at a nibble, you never get another one, for there is nothin' so bad as eagerness, A quick eye, a steady hand, and cool temper is not do withoutable. Tantalise 'em, play 'em on and off, let 'em see the bait and smell it ; then jist raise it a little out of sight till they have to look for it, and then let it float down stream for them to foller, and when they get to it, snub it short till they pass it, and have to turn back and make up agin' stream. They don't see so clear then, for the drift- stuff, air bubbles, and what not ; and when you find them makin' right at it full split with their mouths open, slacken up a little, and jist as they snap at it, draw it forward an inch or so, and then rest a bit. The next grab they make they will take in the bait, hook, sinker, and alK and maybe a part of the line ; then give it a back pull — not forrard, for that is blundersome, and may pull it out agin, p'raps, but back — with a short turn of the wrist, and it whips the hook right into the jaw. Oh, it's beautiful play, that ! It sharpens the wit, pints the eye-teeth, and raises a man in the scale of intelli- gence. I never see a human yet, unless he was one of our free :! lot IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) h // ^ < "%' p 358 THE CLOCKMAKER and enlightened citizens, that had the science— never, and I must say my hand is 'most out. I want practice y for in them British provinces the folks are as simple as the partridges be, and they are so tame and so stupid, it's no fun a-goin' out agunnin' arter them, for you can shoot 'em like hens at a roost. Floorin' one of them afore the eyes of the others never starts the flock, it only 'mazes them. But stop,'' said he, tapping me on the shoulder, " stop, Squire, and look out o' that 'are winder. Do you see that 'are tall, limber-timbered, slinky-lookin' man with the blue cloak, and two long black cords a-hangin' from it with almighty big tassels a-danglin' to the eend of it like the lamp-rope there, a-carryin' part of the cloak folded on one arm like a Roman senator, and t'other arm a-kimber, with his hat cockaded military like ? Well, that is General Conrad Corncob. He is the greatest spekilator in these parts. He made a hundred thousand dollars in eastern lands last year, and ten thousand in New Brunswick this season. He thinks no small beer of himself that man, and boasts that he never put his foot in it in his life. If I don't lighten him of two thousand dollars afore to-morrow mornin', say my name is not Sam Slick. I'll walk right into him, tight as he is, I know. I'll bam him so he'll be a caution, I hope I may be shot if I won't. There is nothin' like fishin' for the leadin' trouts of the hole — no, nothin' ; there is some fun in that, somethin' worth holdin' out the landin'-net for — beautiful spots of gold on them fellers— lick, it makes my mouth water. It's excitin' ; it's dreadful pretty ; it caps all — that's a fact. I shan't see you now agin till mornin', Squire, for it's considerable well on in the evenin' now, when daylight's down ; and I shouldn't wonder if I had fo trade in bed afore I bring him to tarms, so good-night ! I'll play 'possum with you in the mornin', and be ready to start with you as early as you please." The following morning Mr. Slick put a small piece of paper in my hand, and said, with a smile of triumph on his face, " Read that. Squire, if you please." — " To the cashier of the Banp^or Bank. Sir, please to pay to Samuel Slick, Esq., two thousand dollars and ninety cents, and charge the same to yours, etc. Conrad Corncob, Lt.-Genl." " I did him," said he exultingly, " I did him ; but it was no easy matter, I tell you. I had to play him up and down stream more nor once, and shift the colour of the fly till I tempted him ; but he is bagged for once, anyhow. It was a'most a difficult piece of business ; and I must say, tho' I say it that shouldn't say It, that I don't think there is another man this blessed day in the States would have done it but myself, not one. But come, we must be a-movin' ; and as we drive on, I'll tell you how it was. " Arter I left you, I see'd him in a line with the stable ; so I jist walks out and makes for the hoss-stalls, lookin' down in a hurry like, and seemin' chock full of bizness, and not lettin' on as if I knowed that he was there, for there is nothin' like a non-committal, and h? calls out, 'Why, Slick, if that ain't you, as I am alive 1 why, (ftyy: -^'flr^^^.UJ TRADING IN BED 359 . n how do you do, eh ? who on airth would have expected to have see'd you here.' So I looks up, 'mazed like, like a feller that's lost his roadj and says I, ' Stranger, you have the advantage of me, I guess.' ' Possible,' said he, * not know me ? oh, for ever 1 * * Why,' says I, * I know your voice, and know your face, and ^ \ f v. . ■■'■'_.- ^^ I ;>, CHAPTER XIII KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS, OR POLLY COFFIN'S SANDHOLE The reckless speculation occasioned by an equally reckless issue of paper money, which has of late years appeared in the United States, has had a far more injurious operation than anyone who has not carefully watched its progress and effects could possibly suppose. The first apparent change it produced was to raise the pnce of real and personal property far beyond their value, and to cause the unhappy delusion, that this feverish excitement was a healthy condition. That a great alteration had taken place was obvious to all ; and those who were profiting by it, found it by no means a difficult task to make men believe it was the natural result of republican institutions, of a free trade, a fertile soil, and an intelligent spirit of enterprise. -. In this opinion they were unfortunately confirmed, by finding the Liberal party among the KNOWING THE SOUNTJTNGS 365 it, and^ ie two 11 you you'd arter- ff in a links I agin), that's low it. s, or I iglish- ight a* en bit. it was It was ;ss in, and if id not long; good nation, e new ikin' a but Jquire, ' 1' like OLE issue Jnited B who issibly se the ind to was a e was by no atural 1, and were »g the English and the Colonists constantly repeating the same absurd theory, and contrasting the high prices of the United States with the sounder and more rational condition of Canada, as a proof of the superior advantages of elective governments over a monarchy. They all affected to be unable to attribute the difference in the price of land on the opposite sides of the boundary line to any other cause than the ballot, universal suffrage, and annual elections. The consequence of all this has been, that the Americans have suffered immense losses in their trade, while the colonists have suffered no less in their peace and happiness, by the introduction of wild theories of government by those whose rank and influence gave a mischievous wei<,'ht to their opinions. In the States, however, the great pecuniary loss they have sustained is by far the least injury they have incurred from this unfortunate error. They have suffered in their morals. A wild and unprincipled speculation like this has no pretension to be dignified by the name of trade or enterprise. It is one of the worst species of gambling, inasmuch as it originates in deception, and is contaminated with fraud throughout. The preceding sketch, which is founded on /act, shows with what care even clever and experienced men like General Corncob can be duped, when their caution is disarmed by the eagerness of speculation ; and how readily a man like the Clockmaker can reconcile himself, by the aid of a little sophistry, to a fraudulent transaction. " Had you no compunction," said I, " Mr. Slick, in palming off upon the General that worthless bond, and in taking from him so large a sum of money as two thousand dollars without giving him any equivalent whatever?" "Compunction," said he, in great astonishment, "why, no, Squire, why should I ? This ain't tradin', it's spekilatin'. It makes all the difference in the world. For instance, I make a throw, you see, and he buys it. Well, if it wins he gets whatever we rafifled for, and if it don't, he loses, that's all. Great gains cover many losses. If one land spekilation in ten turns out well, and is raal jam, it makes a man's nest. Oh, no I if it was trade, why, honour bright 1 but it an't, it's spekil; it ' ; and you might as well call loo, or put, or all-fours, or any otL ;r game trade. It an't givin* valy for a thing, tfs buyiri a chance. Now, there is no more harm done in settin' off a chance to advantage than in platin' a candlestick, or gildin' a frame. It's puffin', that's all, and that's done every day everywhere ; so it is in smugglin' — do you suppose there is any harm in that ? If you smuggle clever, you win ; if you don't, it's seized, and there is an eend on it ; you lose the trick, but the game is not immoral." It would be difficult to believe that so sensible a man as Mr. Slick could be the dupe of such shallow nonsense, if daily experience did not prove how much easier men can deceive themselves where their interest is concerned, than satisfy others, and how soon the morals of a country are damaged by this sort of r.^:SA ■:l' ■ft;!; ?^ w ;#■ ■'■I 'M.'! >rl / 366 THE CLOCKMAKER national gambling. The explanation was disagreeable. I was re- luctant to permit him to lower himself in my opinion, and I changed the conversation by a reference to colonial subjects. These were topics on which I admired to hear him talk, as his observa- tions were generally correct, often original, and always amusing. "Yes," said he, "I must say, without a morsel of vanity, I estimate I have picked up a few notions of men and thinj,^s in a gineral way that eveiyone can't boast of. Now, there's them colonies and colony chaps, Lord, I know their ins and outs better than they do themselves. Oh, dear 1 I wish I had the berth Lord Sir John Russell, Queen's Prime Minister for immigrants has, for jist one month. The way I'd show him how to handle the ribbons ain't no matter, I know. I'd larn him how to set on the box, how to hold the whip atween his teeth, and to yawk the reins with both hands, so as to make each boss in the team feel he had a master that was none o' the scariest, and that wouldn't put up with no nonsense. A cross-grained, ongainly crittur wouldn't frij^hten me by layin' down and refusin' to draw, I tell you. I'd jist start the rest of the cattle into a handsome lope, and give him a drag over the gravel till I scratched his hide for him for a considerable sum, and see how double quick he'd get tired of that fun, up on his pegs, and go as quiet as a lamb. Lord, I'd come down on him like a duck on a June bug ; I'd make him wake snakes, and walk his chalks, as the western folks say, I know. Nothin' vexes an onruly beast like takin' no notice of him, but jist movin' on as if it was all the same to you what he did, as you know how to fix his flint. I have an idea that no man can be a good statesman that can't drive well. There's a great deal to be lamed from bosses. Natur* is natur*, that is a fact ; but the natur' of a boss ain't human, that's all, and he can't talk ; study ^m, therefore, and man comes easy arter that. There ain't no part of a boss I don't know, stock, lock, or barrel. No man can't cheat me in a boss. As for a John Bull, or a blue-nose, I never see'd one yet that I couldn't walk right into like a pum'kin-pie. They are as soft as dough, them fellers. No, sir ; a steady arm and a light hand is what is wanted, not givin' them their head one minit, and curbin' them the next, and 'most throwin' 'em down. That's no way to drive, but jist the way to spile their temper ; but bein' afeerd on 'em is the devil, it ruins 'em right off. Oh, dear ! if I was only alongside Lord Sir John on the state-box, I'd teach him in six lessons so that he could manage them by whisperin' ; but you might as well whistle jigs to a milestone as to an Englishman, they are so infarnal sot in their ways. The first thing to know how to get safe into port is to study the soundingSi "I mind a trick I played once on old "Tamal Death,' as we called Captain Ebenezer Fathom, the skipper I went to South Sea with. He knowed every inch of the American coast as well as he did of his own cabin, and whenever he throwed the lead, and y KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS 3^7 way and he < , ^ looked at what sort of bottom it s' owed, he knowed as well where he was as it' he was in siglit of land. He did beat all, that's a fact, and proper proud he was of it too, a-bnastin' and a-crackin' of it for everlastingly. So, afore I goes aboard, off I slips to a sandpit on Polly Coffin's betterments, where they got sand for the Boston iron founderies, and fills a bag with it and puts it away in my trunk. Well, we was gone the matter of three years on that 'are voyage afore we reached home, and as we neared the Nantuckit coast, Captain Ebenezer comes down to the cabin and turns in, and says he, ' Sam,' says he, ' we are in soundin's now, I calculate ; run on till twelve o'clock, and then heave-to and throw the lead, for it is as dark as Comingo, and let me see what it fetches up, and, 'tarnal death I I'll tell you to the sixteenth part of an inch what part of the thirteen united univarsal worlds we be in.' ' What will you bet,' says I, 'you do?' * I'll bet you a pound of the best Vrv^jiny pigtail,' says he ; 'for I am out of 'baccy this week past, and have been chawing oakum until my jaws fairly stick together with the tar. Yesterday, when you turned in, I throwed out a signal of distress, and brought a Britisher down on us five miles out of his way ; but, cuss him, when he found out I only wanted a pig of tobacco, he swore like all vengeance, and hauled his wind right off. What 'tarnal gulls and fools they be, ain't they. Yes, I'll bet you a pound of the best.* ' Done,' says I, ' I'll go my death on it you don't tell ; for I never will believe no soul can steer by the lead, for sand is sand everywhere, and who can tell the dititerence?' 'Any fool,' said he, 'with half an eye, in the pitchiest, inkiest, lampblackiest night that ever was created. I didn't get here into the cabin by jumpin' thro' the skylight, as national officers do, but worked my way in from before the mast. 'Tarnal death to me ! a man that don't know soundin's when he sees it is fit for nothin' but to bait shark- hooks with. Soundin's, eh I why, I was born in soundin's, sarved my time out in soundin's, and made a man of in soundin's, and a pretty superfine fool I must be if I don't know 'em. Come, make yourself scarce, for I am sleepy ; ' and he was a-snorin' afore I was out of the cabin. Well, at twelve o'clock we hove-to, and sure enough found sand at fifty fathom, as he said we would. What does I do but goes and takes another lead and dips it into the water to wet it, and then stirs it in the bag of sand I had stowed away in my trunk, and then goes and wakes up the skipper. ' Hollo, ship- mate ! ' says I, * here's the lead ; we have got a sandy bottom in fifty fathom, as you said.' ' Exactly,' says he, 'didn't I tell you so. I can feel my way all along the coast when it's so dark you can't hear yourself speak. I know every foot of it as well as if I made it myself. Give me the lead.' As soon as he took it and looked at it, he jumpt right up on eend in bed. * Hollo 1 ' said he, ' what the devil's this ? give me my specs, that's a good feller, for I don't see as well as I used to did.' So I goes to the table and hands him his spectacles, and says I, ' I knew you couldn't tell no more than m : i ^l III I' m ' t ■5 ' Mi i i m 368 THE CLOCKMAKER anyone else by the lead. That 'are boast of your'n was a bant, and nothin' else. I'll trouble you for your pound of Varginy pig- tail ; jist enter it in the loij, will you ? ' ' Heavens and airth t ' said he, a-mutterin' to himself, ^old Nantuck is sunk, an airthquake, by gum ! What a dreadful piece of bizness this is 1 ' He looked as white as chalk ; his eyes started 'most out of his head, and his hair looked a hundred ways for Sunday. Lord, how frightened he looked ; he was quite onfakilised. ' 'Tarnal death to me 1 ' says he; ' bring the candle here agin ;' and then he wiped his eyes fust, and then his specs, and took another long look at it, as steady as if he was a-drawin' a bead on it fine with his rifle. After a space, he jumps right out of bed on the floor, and bawls out as loud as thunder to the hands on deck. «'Bout ship, boys I ' said he, "bout ship for your lives, as quick as wink ! old Nantuck has gone for it as sure as rates, it has by (}osh ! I hope I may die this blessed instant minit of time if that 'are lead hasn't gone right slap into old Aunt Polly Coffin's Sandhole. What a spot o' work this is 1 Poor old Nantuck t ' and he was jist ready to cry a'most, he seemed so sorry. *Stop,' says I, 'Captain, I'm 'most afeerd I've made a mistake ; I do believe I've gin you the wrong lead. Look at this,' a-handin' up to him and a-showin' of him the right one. ' Ah I ' says he, fust a-smilin' and then bustin' out in a hoss-laugh, * you thought to catch me, Sammy, did you, my boy ? but it's more nor you nor any livin' soul can. None o' you can put the leake into me where soundin's is consarned. I defy all creation to do that. Nothin' but an airthquake can do that. — Let her off two pints, and hold on that way, till daylight. — Nobody had better not go foolin' with me ; ' and then he swung round and fixed for a nap, agin makin' a chucklin' noise, half grunt, half larf. ' Catch me, catch the devil, will you ? Think I don't know the bar grit from Polly Coffin's Sandhole ? Oh 1 of course I don't ; I don't nor never did ; I never had no eyes folks never know nothin', and never will ; so, 'tarnal death to you 1 teach your grandmother to clap ashes, and your daddy how to suck eggs, will you ? ' *' Now, Squire, I know the soundin's of them 'are colonies as well as Captain Ebenezer did Nantuckit bottom, and could put his royal highness Lord Sir John Russell up to a thing or two he don't know, that's a fact. He ought to go and see for himself. How else can he know whether folks are drawin' the wool over his eyes or no, or whether it's proper to 'bout ship or not ? Do you think he could tell now, or any other British minister that ever stood in shoe-leather, from the days of old Captain Noah of the Ark whaler downwards, how many kinds of patriots there are in the colonies ? no, not he. It's a question that would pose most men, unless they had sarved an apprenticeship to state teachin'. Well, there are jist five. Rebel patriots, mahogony patriots, spooney patriots, place patriots, and raal genu;;}/ know nothin', nor no sense nother. Ola > ( KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS catch 369 patriots. Now, to govern a colony, a man ought to know thcie critturs at first sight ; for they are as different from each other as a hoss is from a jackass, or a hawk from a handsaw. A rebel patriot is a gentleman that talks better than he fights, han't got much property in a gineral way, and hopes to grab a little in the universal scramble. He starts on his own hook, looks to his rifle for his support, and shoots his own game. If he got his due, he would get a galliis for his reward. — A maho^ony patriot is a crittur that rides like a beggar a-horseback ; you'll know him by his gait. As soon as he begins to get on a bit in the world, he is env/„ The meeting was held on the betterments of a new sihtler, near a bridge, to which several roads led, and which, from its central situation, was easy of access from various parts of the country. Waggons, gigs, and cars without number, were stationed near the fences, and along the line of the forests, the horses belonging to each carriage being unharnessed and severally fastened by a halter to the axle-tree for security. Here and there were tents and booths, giving the field the appearance of a military encampment ; and on the edge of the woods, and under the shade of the giants of the forest, were numerous conical wigwams, made after the fashion of the Indians, and resembling one of their summer fishing establishments. In the centre of the clearing was a large barn, which was filled by a mixed and mottled multitude of people listening to the wild declamation of the preacher, whose voice was occasionally heard over the whole field, 3S he screamed out his frightful denunciations. Groups of men were scattered about the field, seated on the huge stumps which here and there dotted the surface of the ground, or perched on the upper rails of the wooden fence, discussing business or politics, or canvassing the doctrines or merits of the preacher ; while others were indolently lounging about the refreshment-booths, whiling away the time with cigars and mint-julep until they should be joined by their fair friends at the hour of intermission. After some difficulty, Mr. Slick and myself forced our way into the barn, and fortunately obtained standing-room on one of the seats, from which we had a view of the whole interior. One preacher had just ceased as we entered. He wi:<5 succeeded by another, a tall, thin, and rather consumptive-looking man, who had a red silk pocket-handkerchief tied about his head, and wore no neckcloth. There was something quite appalling in his look. There was such a deep dejection in his countenance, such a settled melancholy, such a look of total abstraction and resignation to the endurance of some inevitable fate, that I was forcibly reminded of the appearance of an unfortunate criminal when led out for execution. Instantly all was hushed, every eye was upon him, and every ear in anxious solicitude to catch the almost maudible whispers that fell from his lips. Now and then a word was heard, and then a few unconnected ones, and shortly a few brief sentences or maxims. Presently his enunciation was clear and distinct, and it gradually increased in volume and rapidity uQtil it became painfully loud, and then commenced gesticulation. W ''h^ '■)* R 1; S^ % u m .fi'lti'iii w ^¥m I ,* 1^: i'\ \-: f ; ^ M I 374 THE CLOCKMAKER / emphasis, and raving. It ^vas one unceasing flow of words with- out pause or interruption, except for an occasional draught of watei from a stone pitcher that was placed beside him. Even this, however, was insufficient to prevent exhaustion, and he removed his coat. He then commenced the great effort of his eloquence, a description of the tortures of the damned. It was a studied and frightful piece of declamation, in which he painted their wild demoniac shrieks, their blasphemous despair, their unquenched and unquenchable thirst — the boiling, steaming lake of brimstone — their unwilling tenacity of existence, and increased sensibility of pain. When all the figures of speech and all his powers of imagination were exhausted, he finished the horrible picture by the introduction of fallen angels, who, with expanded wings, hovered for ever and ever over this awful abyss, whose business and pleasure was, as the boiling of the infernal caldron brought any of the accursed to the surface, with spears of heated, glowing metal to thrust them deeper and further into the burning flood. The groans, screams, and hysterical laughter of the female part of the audience was so frightful and appalling an accompaniment to this description that my feelings became intensely painful, and I was about leaving the building, when his voice suddenly dropped from the unnatural pitch to which he had strained it, and sunk into a soft and seductive tone, in which, in the mildest and gentlest manner, he invited them to accompany him to Paradise, which he described, after the manner of the Mohammedans, as an abode furnished with all the delicacies and pleasures most suited to their senses and corporal enjoyments. He then represented the infernal regions as the doom of those who belonged not to the " band " of which he was the head, in the absence of its persecuted founder, *• Corcoran," and invited his hearers to fellowship. " Enough," said I, to Mr. Slick ; " and more than enough. I am disgusted and horrified ; let us go." " I 'most wonder you stayed so long," said he; **it is awful hot here, and that cnttur talked so of sulphur I've actilly got the taste of it in my mouth ; my tongue is all warped and curled up like singed shoe-leather. I must have a brandy-cocktail to cool it. But I've seen that fellei afore ; I know his voice and the cut of his jib as well as anything, but to call his name out to save my soul alive I can't. They call him Concord Fisher, but that is not his raal name, that's a bam. Where on airth have I seen that goney, for seen him I have, by gum?" The following morning, he said,- " Who do you think that 'are preacher was. Squire ? I I old you I knowed I had see'd him afore, for I never forgot a face yet ; tho' names are considerable slippery, and it ain't jist so easy to keep hold on such soapy things. It was that everlastin' skirmudgeon, Ahab Meldrum ; it was, I swear. Last night, jist as I was a-turnin' in, who should slip ipto my room but Ahab. ' Sam,' savs he, ' I see'd you at the great slip AN O1.D FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE 375 "stir/' and knowed you in a minit ; you are jist the man I want to see, for I need your advice ; but, for the love of Heaven give me some brandy and water, for I am e'en a'most dead ' — and he gave a kind of tan-yard grin that went right straight to the heart. * We have to preach tee-totalism here, for nothin' else will go down ; but it's easier to preach than prac/w^ that. Give me some grog, or I shall die.' * It sarves you right,' says I, ' for bein' such a 'tarnal hypocrite : why the devil don't you take your grog like a man, if you need it, above-board, off-hand handsum, and let them that don't like it lump it, that's my way ; I don't approbate no nonsense.' Well, I goes and gets some brandy and water, enough to make a night-cap for two, and, says I, * Swig away till you are tired now, will you ; you are safe with me ; I won't blow you, you may depend.' Well, I pitied the poor crittur too, for he looked as pale and as white about the gills as a scalded nigger ; I actilly thought he would have fainted, he was so weak. 'Take a drop of it neat,' says I, 'water only spiles it ;' and I poured him out a gill of the pure grit, which brought his colour back and revived him a bit. When he come to, says I, *Ahab, what onder the sun brought you here? what made you leave Alabama? You was gittin' on like a house a-fire there, a soft-sawderin' the women there, with your new rule in grammar, that the feminine gender was more worthy than the masculine, and the masculine more better nor the neuter, and so forth. I hope you han't been illustratin', eh? no more Polly Bacons, I hope, eh ? you was always a sly feller that way : what was it?' 'Sam,' says he, * I've been a fool, and it sarves me right ; I was doin* the smartest chance of preachin' there of any man in the state, and I throwed it away like an ass. I am punished enough, anyhow ; spare me, for I am as weak as a child, and can't stand Jobeing. Spare me, that's a good crittur, and don't you bark agin' me, too, for it will drive me crazy ; ' and he put his hand to his face and bohoo'd right out. * Why, you poor crittur,' says I — for a touch of old timescome over me, when we was boys at school together, and I felt kinder sorry to see him that way, lookin' so streaked — * why, you poor crittur,' says I, 'you've worn yourself out a-screechin' and a-screamin' that way, and yellin' like a ravin' distracted bed-bug ; let me mix you a pitcher of egg-nog, stiff enough to stick to your ribs as it goes down, and it will make a man of you agin in two-twos.' So away I goes and gets a lot of eggs and sugar, and some brandy, and mixes up a dose that would float a dollar a'most, and made him drink it. 'Now,' says I, 'for your rule in grammar ; how did it work ? ' * Well,' says he, ' it's no use concealin' any thin' from you, Sam ; it didn't turn out well in the eend, that's a fact. People began to talk considerable hard and Lynchy about their gals comin' so often to a single man to tell their experience, and to wrastle with the spirit, and so on ; and the o|d women began to whisper and look coonish, and, at last — for I n U %V ■I I m 5 376 THE CLOCKMAKER don't want to go into pitikilars, for it ain't an overly pleasant subject — I got a notice to make myself scarce from Judge Lynch, andf, as I knowed a little grain more about the matter than they did, and guessed the secret would soon be obleeged to be known, I felt my jig was up, and I jist took the hint and made tracks. Then I hooked on to the Corcomites, and here I am among them, I must say, rather takin' the lead. Folks actilly do say I take the rag off qaite, all along up and down Maine and Varmont, and a jpiece beyond. But I can't stand it ; I shall die ; the excitement is too much for me. I have endured more already than a dead nigger in a doctor's shop could stand. Livin' so long in a hot climate, I han't strength for it, and I am fairly used up and worn out. What do you think of Socialism ? It seems as if it would go down, that. It's gittin' kinder fashionable. Owen writes me word he has been introduced to court in England, of which he is proper proud, and a nation sight of people patronise it since, a complete swad of them. He says it will trip the heels of the Church yet, let the bishops do their prettiest, for Socialists have votes as well as other folks, and must be courted, and are courted, and will be courted all through the piece. He seems quite up in the stirrups, and jist dares them to prosecute him. I have had liberal offers from the sect here, for whatever is the go in Europe will soon be the chalk here, and to tell you the truth, I feel most peskily inclined to close with them, for them rational religion- ists live like men, and ain't so everlastin' strait-laced in matters of the heart as others be, nother. In fact, they are jist about the most liberal sect I know on. Now, tell me candid, has it a bottom, or is it a bam? Will it stand, or will public opinion be too strong for it ? for I don't want to embark on board a leaky ship ; when I spikilate I like to have the chances in my favour.' ■ Well, Ahab,' says 1, 'you make me crawl like all over, to hear you talk so loose, so you do. What a devil of a feller you be ; you are actilly bad enough to be nigger-in-law to Old Scratch, you are so bad. You have tried every sect there is, a'most, and now you talk of turnin' infidel as coolly as of turnin' into bed. Give up preachin', you ain't fit for it, nor never was, and more nor that, you han't strength for it. If you don't mind, you'll go for it yet. Go where you ain't known, and either go tradm' or go farmin'.' *Too hard work, Sam,' said he, ' too hard work ; but Socialism strikes me as rather genteel, while the work is light, the pay good, and religious liberty great. Jist hand me the brandy, the', that's a good feller, please. I must take some clear, for that egg-nog is cold and heavy on the stomach,' and he drank off near about half-a-pint without winkin'. * No,' said he, ' no ox-carts for me, Sammy, boy ; no, nor 'baccy, nor cotton nother ; they are low, very low, them. Corcoran, the head of our sect, is in jail. They are a-goin' to give him a berth in the States prison. It's all day with him now ; and I must say it kinder sarves him right for not takin' up hislcillock, when THE UNBURIED ONE 377 he see'd he was a-gittin' into such an almighty frizzle of a fii. What's the use of legs but to absquotilate with, like a jumpin' bull-frog, when traps are sot for you. What I want to know is, whether So — so — social — Socialism ca — an stand or no?' *Not much better than you can, I expect,' says I, for he was blind drunk now, and as dumb as a wooden clock two years old, and I lifted him on the bed with all his runnin' ripgin' on, and there he was this mornin' when I got up, a-snorin' like a sizeable buffalo. Oh, Squire,'' said the Clockmaker, " that 'are Ahab has made me feel dreadful ugly, I tell you. Old times kinder touches the heart ; I look on my old class-mates like brothers, and I don't feel sorter right when I see one on 'em actin' like Old Scratch that way. A bad man is bad enough^ the Lord knows ; but a bad minister beats the devilf that's as plain as preachin'/ V. ^ CHAPTER XV ^ ' *^ ^ THE UNBURIED ONE . As we approached Boston, Mr. Slick said, "Ah, Squire 1 now you will see as pretty a city as we have this side of the water. There is a good many folks worth seein' here, and a good many curosities of Natur* too. There's the State House, and Old Funnel, and Charleston College, and the Market-place, and the Wharf they give to the British steamer (an act of greater liberality p'raps than you'll find, I estimate, in the world), and ever so many things. Then there is Mount Auburn. Lord, the French may crack and boast as much as they please about their ' Pair o' Shaise,'* but it's no touch to it. Why, I never was so disappointed in anything in all my life, since I was broughten up, as that 'are Paris buryin'- ground. // looks for all the world like an old ruined town^ where the houses are all gone ^ and the porches, and steps, and dog-kennels are left. It han't no interest in it at all, except the names o' them that's buried there ; but Mount Auburn is worth seein' for itself. It's actilly like a pleasure ground, it's laid out so pretty, and is the grandest place for courtin' in I know on, it's so romantic. Many a woman that's lost one husband there has found another in the same place. A widower has a fine chance of seein' widders there, and then nobody ever suspects them of courtin', bein' that they are both in black, but takes 'em for mourners, and don't intrude on 'em out of pity. I'll go a bet of one hundred dollars the women invented that place, for they beat all natur* for contrivances, so they do. Yes, Squire, if you have a mind for a rich young widder, clap a crape weeper on your hat, and a white nose-rag in your hand, and go to Mount Auburn, and you'll see some heavenly there,*! tell you, in some o' them 'are shady walks, that * Pfcre-LAchaise cemetery. splices IP MM ■ ,j, -. %. ^ I W V I i t i}' Tj f S78 THE CLOCKMAKER will put all the dead in creation out of your head a'most. Them saller-lnokin', garlic-eatin' French heifers you see to 'Pair o' Shaise ' may have better top gear, and better riggin' in gineral than our gals, and so they had ought, seein' that they think of nothin' elce but dress ; but can they show such lips, and cheeks, and complexions, that's all, or such clinker-built models? No, not them, nor any other women of any other nation in the univarsal world. If they can, it's some place that's not discovered yet, that's all I can say, and you must go a leetle further than the eend of the airth to find them, for they ain't this side of it. You must see Mount Auburn to-morrow, Squire, that's a fact ; but then, leave your heart at home, at the TVrmont, as folks do their watches when they go to the iheaUt in London, or you will lose it as sure as you are born. Oh, there is a sartain somethin' about Boston that always makes an American feel kinder proud. It was the cradle of our cradle. The voice of our young eagle was first heard here ; and at Bunker's Hill, which is near the town, it gave the British the first taste of its talons. • v» ■ ,, ^ • Newbury port's a rocky place, ,, / :' And Salem's very sandy ; . , A Charleston is a pretty town. But Boston is the dandy.' • - I guess the English must feel most awful streaked when — " ^To divert him from a topic on which his national vanity always made him appear ridiculous, I observed, that I believed there was one opinion among strangers about Boston, who were always much pleased with the place, and its society, but that I was not myself fond of cities as cities. " Long streets, and broad streets," said I, " walls of brick and mortar, and stones, heaped on stones, have few charms for me. Even architectural beauty is, after all, but the effect of a judicious arrangement of poor materials. It is good of its kind, but not one of those things I most admire. It may have many component parts of beauty, it may combine lightness, strength, proportion, and so on. The general effect may be good, criticism may be satisfied, and the eye dwell on it with complacency. You may be willing to concede to it the usual terms of praise. You may say it is grand, or magnificent, or exquisite, or beautiful. You may laud the invention, the judgment, and skill of the architect ; you may say, in short, that your artificial and acquired taste for architectural beauty is gratified and content (an admission, by-the-by, which it is very rare to hear), but still it is but the work of the hodsman and mason. I do not mean to underrate its importance, because, as a great part of mankind must dwell in cities, and all must live in houses, few things are of greater consequence than the appearance of those cities and houses ; and order, symmetry, and the general adapta- tion of the parts to each other, and to the whole, are matters of all, It !}K THE UNBURIED ONE 379 deep interest to us all. I merely mean to say, that the most beautiful building is but a work of art, and that, as such, it gives me less pleasure than many other works of art, and that it falls so immeasurably short of the works of Nature, of which I am a great admirer, I fear I do not derive all that pleasure from it that it is capable of affording. I like cities, therefore, not for themselves, but as a gregarious animal, for the greater number of my own species they contain, and for the greater opportunity they afford me of meeting the idem velle and idem nolle people, among whom only, we are told, by a very competent judge, is to be found true friendship. But, even in this case, I am not sure I do not lose in quality as much as I gain in quantity ; for I fear that though there be more refinement in the citizen, there is less heart than in the countryman. Before you can impart its brigh'aess to steel, you must harden its texture, and the higher the polish the more indurated you will_find the substance. By this process it loses its pliability and acquires brittleness, and its strength is diminished in proportion to its beauty. It is a gay deceiver. It flatters your vanity by its devotion to yourself. Its smooth and brilliant surface will reflect your image while present, but the very operation of refinement has destroyed its susceptibility of an impression. It is your own smile that is returned to you, but it refuses to retain it when you cease to look upon it. As a lover of Nature, therefore, I love the country and the man that inhabits it. I find more of beauty in the one, and of generous impulses in the other, than I find in cities or in courtiers." " I reciprocate that idee," said the Clockmaker. " Give me the folks that like 'human natur" and 'soft-sawder.' Them critturs in towns, in a gineral way, have tnost commonly cut their eye-teeth, and you can't make nothin' of them. There is no human natur* in them to work on ; and as for soft-sawder, they are so used to it themselves, it seems to put 'em on their guard like. They jist button up their pockets, and wrinkle up their foreheads, and look on you with their eyes wide apart, onmeanin' like, as if they warn't attendin', and bow you out. Nothin' makes me feel so onswoggled as one of them ' I guess-you-may-go ' kind of stares ; it's horrid. But as for our country folks. Lord, you can walk right into 'em like nothin'. I swear I could row a boat-load on 'em cross-handed right up agin the stream in no time. Boston is a fine town, that's sartain, tho' I won't jist 'Itogether say it's better nor Edinboro*, nor Dublin nother ; but it's — " " Talking of Dublin," said I, " reminds me of the singular story I overheard you telling some countryman in Nova Scotia of the remarkable state of preservation in which the dead bodies are found under St. Michan's Church, and especially the anecdote of the two Shears's ; was that a fact, or one of your fanciful illustrations given for the sake of effect ? " "Fact, Squire, I assure you," said he, "and no mistake. I see'd it with my own eyes no longer than two years agone. Gospel, every If I \ '4 i M: Bi '■ ') ^ 3^0 THB CLOCKMAKER word of it." " You mentioned there was a female exhibited with them in the same perfect state ; who was she?" **0h I she was a nun," said he ; " she had been there the matter of the Lord knows how many years a-kickin' about, and nobody knew her name, or who her folks wert, or where the plague she come from. All they knowed was she was a nun that wouldn't let no one see so much as the colour of her eyes while she lived, but made up bravely for it arter she was dead. If you had only a heerd how it made the old sea-captain rave like a mad poet at the full of the moon, it would have made you laugh, I know. I sot him agoin' on purpose ; for nothin' pleases me so much as to see an old feller try to jump Jim Crow in an oration. So says I, ' Captain,' says I, * that 'are nun warn't a bad-lookin' heifer in her day nother, was she ? a raal, right- down, scrumptious-lookin' piece of farniture, and no mistake ; but what in natur' was the use of her veilin' her face all her life to keep off the looks of sinful carnal man, if they won't veil her arter she is dead, and no one wants to look at her. Oh, dear ! oh, dear I if she could only wake up now and see us two great he-fellers a-standin starin' at her full in the face, what an everlastin' hubbub she would make, wouldn't she? If she wouldn't let go, and kick, and squeel, and carry on like ravin' distracted mad, it's a pity, that's all. I say. Miss Stranger,* said I, a-turnin' to our female guide, and a-chuckin' her onder the chin, *now, what do you estimate is the first thing that 'are ^al would do in that case ? Would she — * But the old ongainly heifer pretended to take a fit of the modest all at once, and jist turned towards the door, and by bringin' the lamp closer to her body, threw the corpses and that comer of the cellar into darkness ; and then axin' us if we'd like to see the next vault, led us right up into the churchyard. When we got out into the air, says the old sea-captain, * I agree with you, Mr. Slack.* * Slick, sir, if you please, is my name.' * Oh ! I beg your pardon. Mr. Clack, then.* * No, nor Mr. Clack nother,' says I ; * it's Slick — S^m Slick is my name I ' a-raisin' of my voice till the buildin* actilly gave an echo agin, for the crittur was as deaf as a shad. * I am from Slickville, Onion County, Conne'ticut, United States of America.' 'Well, Mr. Slirk.* *Ah I now you have it,' said I; * you've got it to a T.' * To a T I ' said he (the old soft horn) ; *how is that ? I really don't onderstand how you have a T in it at all.' * Oh dear ! l^aid I ; *no more we have. It's nothin' but a sayin' of our'n, a kind of provarb ; it's a cant phrase.' 'Ah ! cant is it ? ' said he, with a face a yard long ; ' then you must permit me to obsarve that you are one of the last men, judging from your remarks, that I should have supposed to have had anything about you approaching to cant. But I fully concur with you that the exhibition of this female is not decent. I should not have observed myself, unless you had called my attention to the corpse, that it was a female.' * No, I suppose not,' says I ; 'and there's not one mite or morsel of cant in that, I suppose, at all. THE UN BURIED ONE 381 How innocent we are, not to know a hawk from a handsaw, ainS we?' 'Speak a little louder,' said the old man, 'if you please, sir, for I have the misfortin' to be a leetle hard of hearinV ' 1 was sayin', sir,' said I, 'that I don't know as I should nother, if that 'are woman that showed 'em to us hadn't a' said, " Beautiful crater, your honour, that same nun must have been in her day. The 1'ontlemen all admire her very much entirely. They say she looks ike a statue, she does."' "'Well, well,' said the captain, kinder snappishly, 'whoever she was, poor crittur ! the exhibition is improper. She has the reputation of having been a nun, who, whatever may be the errors of their creed that induces them voluntarily to quit a world into which they are sent with certain social duties to perform, have at least the merit of a sincere devotion, and their motives arc to be respected. As in life they are scrupulous in the observance of all the most minute proprieties of conduct, they, of all others, seem to have the greatest claim to be exempted from this degrading exposure after death. Decay, however, has now commenced, and will soon remove all trace of humanity. Corruption, according to that beautiful idea of Scripture, will assert its claim of kindred, and the worm proclaim himself her brother. Alas ! where now are the gay and thoughtless crowd that thronged to witness the gorgeous and solemn spectacle of a young, beautiful, and innocent sister assuming that veil that was to separate her from the world for ever ? Where are the priests that officiated at the altar? — the sisterhood that rejoiced in receiving ? — the relatives that grieved at surrendering this sacrifice ? and they, too, whose voices pealed forth the hymn of praise, and poured out the tide of sacred song to the echoing aisles — where arc they ? All, all have passed away 1 and none — no, not one — is left of all that assembled crowd to disclose her lineage or her name. Their rolls have perished with them, and all that now remains is this unclaimed, unknown, nameless one. Poor thing ! has indignant humanity asserted its rights ? Hath the vindictive world rejected thee, as thou rejected it ? or why art thou here alone, unhonoured and unknown ? Alas 1 is there no distinction between the gallows and the cloister ? Is it fitting that thou, whose life was a life of penance and of prayer, whose pure mind communed only with heavenly objects, should now consort with convicted criminals, and that thy fair form should be laid with the headless trunks of traitors ? Ah, me ! thou hast returned, poor houseless thing I to thine own, and thine own knows thee no more. I have seen the grave open to receive its tenant, and the troubled sea its dead, and the green turf and the billowy wave fold them in its bosom, to sleep the sleep that knows no waking. All have their resting-place, save thee I Ambition has its temple, and wealth its tomb, while even the poor are cared for ; but thou, how is it, fair one, that thou alone - ;ii: ' ! m ^ ■■ hi 3?a THE CLOCKMAKER of all thy sex should be left the * unburied one ' ? the greedy sexton's show, and the vile scoflfer's viler jest. Who art thou ? History can find a place for treason and for crime ; could it afford no space for self-denying virtue such as thine? Was there no pious hand to grave thy name on unpretending monumental stone ? none of all thy father's house to perform the last sad rites of affection — to restore to the earth what was earthy — to the dust, dust— and ashes to ashes? All, all are silent! and even tradition, garrulous as it is, has but one short word for thee — a nun 1 ' "Arter spinnin' this yarn, the old sea-captain turned off to examme the tombstones in the churchyard, and I mounted the car to the gate and drove off to the hotel. There was some feelin' and some sense too in what he said, tho' he did rant a few, wam't there ? but as for his goin' to make-believe he didn't know she was a woman, that is what I must say, now, I call a most superfine bam that. Old fellers always t/iin^ young ones fools ; but young fellers sometimes ^now old ones is fools. Now, who'd a' thought, Squire," he continued, " that that 'are old boy would have flowed right off the handle that way for nothin' at all, at seein' that queer, parchment-coloured, wilted, old onfakilised nun. I think, myself, they might as well bury her ; and if they'd ship her out to Minister, I don't make no doubt he'd bifry her hisself in Mount Auburn ; or to brother Eldad, and he'd stick her up in a museum for a show, as they do mother Barchell at Surgeons' Hall in London ; but as for her name, who the plague cares what it is ? I am sure T don't. I wouldn't give a cent to know, would you ? It sounded kinder pretty, that talk of his too. Lord ! I wish sister Sal had a' been there ; if she had a' been, he'd a' sot her a-boohooin' in no time, I know, for she is quite romantic is Sail, and a touch of the pathetic is what she does love dearly. Whenever she comes across a piece of dictionary like that 'are, she marks it with a pencil, and gets it by heart, and goes a-spoutin' of it about the house like mad. 'Ain't that fine, Sam?' says she, *ain't it splendid? it's sublime, I declare ; it's so feelin' and so true.' And if I won't go the whole figur* with her, she gets as mad as a hatter. ' You han't got no soul in you at all, Sam,' says she ; * I never see'd such a crittur. I do believe in my heart you think of nothin' but dollars and cents.' * Well, then,' I say, says I, * don't be so peskily ryled, Sally dear ; but raaly now, as I am a livin' sinner, I don't jist exactly onderstand it ; and as you are more critical than I be, jist pint out the beauties, that's a dear love, will you, and see if I don't admire it every mite and morsel as much as you do, and maybe a plaguy sight more.' Well, I get her to set down and go over it all ever so slow, and explain it all as mud, and then she says, 'Now do you see, Sam? ain't it horrid pretty?' 'Well,' says I, 'it does sound grand hke, that I must say' — and then I scraich my head and look onfakilised — ' but how did you say that was, dear ? ' says I, a-pintin' to the top line ; ^■v» w*"*- DEFINITiON or A GENTLEMAN 383 * I don't jist altogether mind how you explained that.' 'Why, you •tupid cnttur, you 1 ' she says, ' this way ; ' and then she goes over it all agin, word for word. * Now do you onderstand,' says she, * you thickhead, you? Ain't that beatitiful? don't that pass?* * Yes,' says 1, * it does pass, that's a fact, ior it passes all ondcrstandin' ; but you wouldn't jist explain once more, would you, dear?' and I looks up wicked and winks at her. 'Well, now, if that ain't too bad,' she says, 'Sam, 1 declare, to make ^am^ of xmr- that way. If I hadn't a' been as blind as a bai, . might luivP see'd with half an eye you was a-bammin' of me the wlu^it; blessed titue, so I might ; but I'll never speak to you agin, now, see if 1 do ; so there now,* and away she goes out of the room a-poulin' like anytliin'. Id grand fun, that, and don't do a gal no harm nolher, for there is nothin' like havin' a string to a kite, when it's a-gettin' away out of sight a'most, to bring it down agin. 0/ all the seventeen senses, I like common sense about as well as any on '^///, arter all; now^ don't you^ Squire,** ■'■*S *■ 1 i I'l r , !]l 1 j i 1 ; 1 CHAPTER XVI t '. \ DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN it in,' ow, as a On our arrival at Boston we drove to the Tremont House, which is not only one of the first of its kind in the United States, but decidedly one of the best in the world. As our time was limited, we proceeded, as soon as we could, to visit the several objects of interest in the city and its neighbourhood, and among the rest Bunker's Hill, where, Mr. Slick observed, "the British got a taste of what they afterwards got a bellyful." The hill was surmounted by an unfinished monument, which, he said, it was intended should exceed in height the monument in the City of London, as the Yankees went ahead of the English in everything. As his father had been present at the battle, it was natural the Clockmaker should feel a pride in it ; for by proving our army to be both mortal and fallible, it had a great effect on the sub- sequent events of the war. In his exultation, however, he seemed to forget that he was talking to a British subject, who, if he now had any feeling on the subject, could only have wished that the prudence of the general had equalled the bravery ot the King's troops. As Bunker's Hill was the scene of a victory won by British soldiers under the most difficult and trying circum- stances, I was pleased to see the erection of this monument, as it is a tribute to their valour which they have justly merited. Why the Americans should have thought of putting it there I am at a loss to know, when there are many other places where their 'ii i :i 1 .'. 384 THE CLOCKMAKER gallantry was not only equally conspicuous, but crowned with signal success. In this case, however, they have not merely , selected a spot where they were defeated, but one which is, perhaps, mere remarkable than any other on this continent for that indomitable spirit and reckless courage that distinguishes the English. On an examination of the ground, it would appear that a slight detour would have enabled the troops to have routed the rebel army with great ease and but little loss, and at the same time effectually to have cut off their retreat. Instead of adopting this obvious mode of attack, the troops were ordered to charge up the steep ascent of this hill upon an enemy securely protected by their entrenchments, a service which they performed under a most murderous fire, which, from the nature of the ground, they were unable to return with any effect. This successful effort is as deserving of commendation as the conduct of the officer in com- mand is of reprehension in thus wantonly sacrificing his men, out of mere bravado, in the attainment of an object which could be followed by none of the usual consequences of a victory. A monument to perpetuate the recollection of this gallant feat of those intrepid men, by whomsoever erected, is a most desirable thing, and it is to be hoped that means will not be long wanting to complete it in the same handsome style in which it is begun. On our return to the hotel, as we passed the bar, Mr. Slick, according to his usual custom, stopped to take some refreshment, and when he joined me again, he said, " Squire, do you know Peter Barr at Quaco, where we stopt one night ? Well, he is Bar by name and Bar by natur*, for he is the waiter to a most excellent one, the Reneficacious House. I reckon he is the most gentleman- like man in all New Brunswick. He sartainly is a polirhed man that; his manners are about the best I ever fell in with. It does one good to see him enter a room, he does it so pretty. In fact, I call him as near about a finished gentleman as I know on ; don't you, now ? " I said I had seen the person he alluded to, but it was not customary to call servants finished gentlemen, and that I had never heard the term .ipplied in that manner before ; that he was no doubt a very attentive and civil waiter, and I believe an honest and excellent servant, but that finished manners referred to a very different state o^ society from that of the attendants on a bar-room. "Ah," said he, "now there peeps out the pride of the English- man and the effect of your^^litical institutions. Now with us we are all equal, and in course the polish extends very considefable thro' all the different grades of society, especially among them that live on the sea-board." " How," said I, " can you have different grades if you are all equal ? I do not exactly comprehend that." " No," said he, " the fact ts you do no/ understand us. Now, take mv grade ; i*'s what DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN 385 ■'A you call a clock-pedlar in the scorny way you British talk of things, merely because my trade extends over the whole country; but take my grade (I won't speak of myself, because ' praise to the face is open disgrace'). Well, 1 estimate they are as gentlemanlike men as you will find in the worlJ, and the best drest too, for we all wear finer cloth in a gineral way than the British do, and our plunder is commonly more costly than their'n. This arises, you see, from our bein' on a footin' with princes and nobles, and received at all foreign courts as natur's noblemen, free and enlightened citizens of the greatest empire on the face of the airth. Now, I could go where despisable colonists couldn't go. If I went to France I should go to our Embassador and say, * Embassador, I've come to see the ins and outs of Paris ; and a nasty, dirty, tawdry place it is ; it ain't to be named on the same day with Philadelphia, New York, or any of our first shop cities ; but as I am here, I'd like to see some o' their big bugs — show us their king, he kept school once in our country, but we kinder thought he didn't speak as good French as the New Orleans folks ; I wonder if he has improved any.' Well, he'd take me and introduce me to the palace without any more to-do about it, and king and me would be as thick as two thieves, a-talkin' over his old scholars, frog-soup, and what not of the ups and downs of refugee life. Embassador darsn't refuse me^ or we'd recall him for not supportin' the honour of the nation. King darsn't refuse him^ or we'd go to war with him for insultin' the Union — fact, I assure you. Creation ! If he was to dare to refuse, he'd see our hair rise like a fightin' cat's back. We wouldn't pine and whine about it as the English do at gittin' their flag insulted by the French and us great folks, and then show their spunk on them outlandish petticoated Chinese, like a coward that first refuses a challenge and then comes home and licks his wife to prove he ain't afeerd ; no, not we indeed, we'd declare perpetual non-intercourse with France, as the only dignified course, and they might keep their silks and champaigne for them as wants them ; we can manufacture both of them as good as they can. Now this gives us a great advantage over the n^Xives of Europe, and makes it work so that any man of my grade (I don't speak of the upper-crust folks, because them that eat their pork and greens with silver forks are the same all the world over, all they have to lam is how to spend their money ginteely, but oi my class, that has to lam fust how to make it and then how to keep it) is ginerally allowed to be as much of a gentleman as you'll see in any rank in Europe, partikilarly when he sets out to do the thing in best style. Of course, when people are at their work they must have their workin' dress on, but when they ondertake to put on their bettermost clothes and go the whole figur', I want to know where you'll see a better drest man than one of my craft, take him by and large, from his hat clean away down to his pump-shoes ; or a man more ready when his dander is up to take offence at nothin' 2 B •I- ^ 'i ■■ Sill 386 THE CLOCKMAKER y-' a'most, and fight, or go to a first-rate hotel and pay five dollars 9, bottle for his wine. Country folks will be country folks, and can't be expected to be otherwise, seein' that they don't go out of the bush, and can't know what they don't see ; but a tradin' man, that roams from one eend of the States to, t'other eend of the provinces, a-carryin' his own wares in his own waggon, and a-vendm* of 'em himsei'"from house to house, becomes a polished man in spite of his te-th, and larns to despise spittin' on carpets afore company, or whittlin' his nails with a penknife, as much as count this or lord that. There is anateral dig^nity about them, arising from the dignity of freedom. So there is about the Indgians ; Minister used to say there was an ease and elegance of motion about an Indgian that ^ nothin' could give a white man but constant intercourse with the best society, and was seldom equalled and never surpassed even at " courts. The crittur is onconstrained. They go on the nil admirari ' system, he used to say (for, poor old man, he was always introducin' neck-and-crop some fag-eend of a Latin line or another, his head ' was chock full and runnin' over with larnin'). The meanin' of that is, they don't go starin' and gapin' about the streets with their eyes and mouths wide open, like musketeer-hawks, as if they never sec'd anything afore. Now, that's the way with us. No man ever ' heerd me praise anything out of my own country that took the shine off of anything we had. " I've often heerd the ladies say in England, 'Why, Mr. Slick, nothin' seems to astonish you here : you don't seem to praise any- thing ; you have no curiosity about you. What do you think of that noble structur*, St. Paul's Church? 'Pretty well,' said I, , jist as if we had a thousand such ; 'but it's gloomy and not '^' so big as I expected.' ' But Westminster Abbey,' says they, * don't that surprise you ? for you have no abbeys in America, and we think that must appear to you very wonderful.' * Well, says I, quite cool, like a comeysewer, 'it's costly, but ©nconvenient, for a large congregation. The finish is rather l^im-crack, and so is its farnitur*, and them old tattered banners ^ m the chapel look for all the world like old rags we tie to sticks in the cornfields in Slickville to frighten away the crows. They ain't fit for a meetin'-house like that are ; and if they must have flags hung up in it, as we do them we took from your frigates in a ball- room, they might as well have new ones.' ' Oh ! ' says they, * did you ever? Then,' says they, 'the delightful parks round the noblemen's seats, ain't they very beautiful ? you must be astonished - at them, we think. Were you not struck on entering them with — ' ' Struck ! ' says I, ' oh yes ! and most delightfully skeered too. I am a narvous man, and sometimes sing out afore I am hit. Few people is so skittish and shy so bad as I do. Struck, indeed ! No, miss, I warn't struck. I'd like to see the best lord that ever trod in shoe-leather strike me for enterin' his park, or so much even as to lay the weight of his finger on me. I'd soon let him know x- i I, not tiey, rica, WeWy in ain't flags ball- did the shed ■th— ' I Few eed ! DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN 387 there was a warrant out arter him. Heavens and airth ! Vd chaw him right up like mincemeat, titles, stars, garters, and all. I'd knock him to the north eend of creation in less time than a cat takes to lick her paw. Struck I why, the very thorts of it sets my blood all in a gallopin' boil. I don't think he'd take the trouble to do it a second time ; for I'd make him cut dirt as if he heerd a whole team of thunderbolts arter him. Me struck, and Atm alive to brag of it 1 Well, I sorter guess not. No one never struck me, miss, since I first sot foot in England, nor for many a long day afore nother. That pleasure is to come yet. Strikin' a stranger ain't thort friendly with us, and I didn't think it was the fashion here.' 'Why, Mr. Slick,' says they, 'han't you got that word "struck" in the States ? It means astonished, strongly affected.* * Oh, yes !' says I, 'to be sure, " struck up all of a heap" ; it's common when used in jinin' hand that way, but never stands alone except for a blow.' The truth is, I knowed well enough what she meant when she said it, but I answered that way jist to give her a high idea of my courage ; for I suppose she thought honour was only found in Europe, and mainly among officers, the bulk of whose business is to fight when they can't help it. Then says I, * To answer your question, miss, I have see'd a nateral park,' says I, ' at home, stretchin' clean away across from the Atlantic right slap thro' to the Pacific Ocean, all filled with deer, and so big, these English parks of dwarf trees look like a second growth of sprouts on the edge of a potato diggin' in a new clearin', or a shelcer grove in a pastur*. Then,' says I, 'your lakes is about as big as our duck-ponds, and your rivers the bigness of a sizable creek when there is no freshets.' * But,' says they, ' we know Natur* is on a large scale in America, and your rivers and trees exceed in magnitude anything of the kind in Europe ; but look at the beautiful English landscape, the rich verdure, the high culti- vation, the lawns, the shrubberies the meadows, and the groves, so interspersed as to produce the greatest and best effect.' * If the sun ever shined on it,' said I, * it would be scrumptious enough, I do suppose ; but it's heavy, melancholy, and dull ; it wants light in the landscape, and you han't water to give it, nor sun nother.' * We are sorry,' says they, ' England has nothin' to please you.* * Haven't you, tho',' says I, for it don't do to run down everything either, especially to the ladies ; so, says I, ' haven't you, tho'. Oh I * says I, ' the ladies, I must say, are quite equal to our'n.' It was a whapper that, tho', but they didn't know no better ; and who has a better right to lie than them that pays taxes ? 'It wouldn't be patriotic to say they were superior, and not perlite nor true, nother, to say inferior, but they are equal,' says I, 'that's a fact ; and that's no poor compliment, I can tell you, for our ladies lick 1 — but I say nothin'.' " Now, that's what I call about right. Squire. To go wanderin* and statin' about and admirin'of everything, shows a man has \k u . V I. ; M ' '4 i ^ prfl?.l i m ii '9 388 THE CLOCKMAKER nothin' at home worth braggin' of or boastin* about, or hasn't see'd nothin' of the world. It would make Europeans vain, and, cuss them, they are vain enough and proud enough already, especially the English ; besides, it ain't good breedin', and ain't patriotic. I like to sustain the national character abroad, and give foreigners a proper idea of our enlightenment and freedom. Bein' stumpt is a sure mark of a fool. The only folks among us that's ever nonplushed is them just caught in the woods, and some o' them, I will say, are as ignorant as a Britisher ; but then it's only them as never see'd nothin' but bears and Indgians. I mind once a gal we hired as a house- help. They was agued out of the west was her family, and them that the Indgians left the fever was doin' for ; so they cut and runs and come to Slickville. Well, she stared and pawed at everything a'most, and actilly was the most ongenteelest crittur ever was broughten out from among the rattlesnakes. Father axed her one day at dinner to hand him some bread. *Did you haul for anything, old man?' says she, 'or was it the old woman that yelled ? for yau and Granny Slick speak so much alike, I can't tell, unless I see your jaws a-movin', which it is.* * I asked for some bread,' says father. Well, what does she do but ups with the head of the loaf, and stretchin' out her arms, takes aim and lets fly right at him ; and, if he hadn't a' been pretty active in fendin' off, it would have hit him right in the face, and taken his nose off so clean he wouldn't have missed it till he went to blow it. ' Why, Suckey,' says he ' what on airth do you mean by that 'are 1 why don't you hand it ? ' ' Hand it ? ' said she ; * I never heard of such a way as that. Father always says pitch, and when we want a thing we always shy it. How onder the sun could yau onload a cart of bricks if you didn't pitch and catch ? why, it would take a month of Sundays. If people always carried every- thing that everybody wanted, they might be a-carryin* to all etarnity. Didn't I pitch the loaf fair for yaur breadbasket.'* where the plague would you have it, eh ? ' Then she was always axin* what a thing cost. * Is that solid silver V said she, a-lookin' at one of our spoons. 'To be sure,' said I, ' raal genu«//«/?, and worth five dollars.' ' Well, I want to know,' said she ; ' yau don't. Half a dollar would buy a spoon, and four dollars and a half two lambs. Why, yaur silver spoons are a raal airthquake ; what a power of money they do svvaller up 1 ' Then she got hold of the gilt pictur'- frame I had minister's likeness in. * Dear, dear,' said she, ' how grand I Now, is that all solid gold and no bam ? why, it would buy Deacon Hiram Grumble's overshot saw-mill at little big Snipe Swamp ; it would, I vow, timber-ranges and all. Why, it would be a forten to a poor gal like me. I'd gin all I have in the world for that, or ever shall have : but, then, all I have is a feather-bed, a side-saddle, a yearlin' colt, and a rifle. Now declare solemn, that's a good soul, Sam, is that all solid, clear gold, without cheatin', or DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN 389 it only pinchback, like the ear-rings that stingy beast Pardon Brag gave sister Ambrosia when he was snuffin' ashes with her afore they was married?' 'Why, you foolish crittur, no,' said I, 'it ain't. Who ever hcerd tell of a gold frame.' 'Ay, ay, my young coon,' said she, * or a silver spoon either. I'll take my davy it's only pewter, and good enoiigh too. I guessed yau only said so to appear grand.' She knowed no better, poor crittur, for she was raised in the swamps of the west, among the owls and catamounts, and warn't much more nor halt-baked at no time nother. We couldn't make nothin' of her, her independence was so great, and her ways so countrified. When she come, she had but one frock, and when she washed it at night, she laid a-bed all day for it to dry ; she did, upon my soul. " One time we had a tea-squall in our house, and Susan handed about the tea. Well she got thro' this well enough ; but what does she do arffirwards but goes round among the company with the sugar-bowl in one hand, and the cream-jug in the other, sayin*, 'How are yau off, yau stranger with the factory-coat, for sugar?' and ' old woman with the ,yaller petticoat, shall I milk yau ? ' and so on. When she came to me I couldn't hold in no longer, and I bust out a-larfin.' ' Kiss my foot, will you,' said she, ' Mr. Sam, and mind what I tell yau, if yau go for to cut any of your high shines with me, I'll fetch yau a kick in yaur western eend that will give yau the dry gripes for> week, dod drot my old shoes if I don't, for yau are a bigger fool than I took yau to be.' She felt equal to any of the company, and so she was, /Mitically speaking, and nothin' darnted her. It an't more nor half convenient always, but it's the effect of our glorious institutions. She felt conscious she might be the mother of a president of our great nation, and it infused a spirit in her above her grade. In fact, no one, male or female, can forget that fact, that their child mought be an Albert Gotha for eight years. As for me," he said, " I never was abashed before any man since I was knee-high to a goose ; I hope I may be skinned if I was. I do actilly believe if your Queen was to ax me to dine with her, I should feel no more taken aback nor if it was Phoebe Hopewell. The fixin's of the table mought be a little grain different from what I had ever heern on, seein' that she is sc much richer than I be ; and havin' lords to wait behind cheers at dinner would seem, at first, strange, I do suppose, but I should jist cut my eye round like wink, and see how others did, like a well-bred man, and then right and left and down the middle, as they did, as onconsarned as if I had been used to it all my life. Afore you go, I'll pint out to you some smart men in the same grade as myself, travellin' clock- venders, or in the tin line, who are men of great refinement in dress, and considerable taste in hoss- flesh, and parfect gentlemen, who pride themsehes on having the handsomest gal, the best trottin' beast, and the dearest coats in the city, and wouldn't let no man say boo to them for nothin'. Let a ! ^ i I;,. "-1 ■:0 .1 'J ■.;:!, Ij % ;.: !«M^i« r»1 i li i « . < 390 THE CLOCKMAKER British duke ax one o' them to a party without fust caMin* and gitttn* introduced, as one of them did to another citizen of our'n not long ago, and see if he wouldn't make him a caution to behold. I'd trouble an old gouty lord to go a-hobblin' upstairs afore 'em, a purpose to keep 'em back, and mortify 'em, 'cause they were Americans. I guess they'd give him a lift with the tip eend of their toe that would help him to mend his pace, that's all. What your idea of a gentleman is, I don't know, but I suppose nothin* ondcr an airl is one in your eyes ; but my idea of a gentleman is jist this, one who is rich enough, willin' enough, and knowin' enough, when the thing has to be done in first-rate style, to go the full figur', and to do the thing ginteel. That's what I call a gentleman." \ 1 1 iv CHAPTER XVII LOOKING UP '\ { • The Clockmaker had an extensive and accurate knowledge of human nature. The wandering life he had led, and the nature of his business, which sent him into every man's house, afforded him a favourable opportunity of studying character, a knowledge of which was the foundation of his success in life. Like most clever men, however, he prided himself less upon what he did, than what he did not know, and was more ambitious of being considered a mart of fashionable manners, than a skilful mechanic, an expert salesman, or a shrewd, intelligent man. It was one of his weak points, and the more remarkable in him, for it was natural to suppose that his quick perception of the ridiculous, and his power of humour, would have enabled him to see the absurdity of such a pretension quicker than most men. Admitting the truth of his assertion, that all men, women, and children, are open to the influence of his universal and infallible soft-sawder, I have no doubt that a dose of it skilfully applied to him on this point, would have proved the accuracy of the remark, by showing that he was no more exempt from its operation than the thousands of dupes whose caution he had disarmed, and whose favour he had won by it himself. " Yes, Squire," he continued, " it's a great advantage we possess, is manners. It enables us to visit the log-huts of the down-east settler and the palace of the nobles on free and easy tarms. to peddle in the one, and do first chop in the other. I rather ; sr'e myself on my manners, for I have see'd more of the world than most men. That, you see, has provided me with small-talk for the >•; LOOKING UP 391 iff women, and you might as well be without small change in tradin' as small-talk in courtin' the gals. There is nothin' a'most pleases womenkind like hearin' men talk glib to them, unless it be to hear the sound of their own tongues. Then, I larnt psalmody at singin'- school, and havin' naturally a good voice, can do bass to the nines, and sing complete. Beautiful tunes some o' them meetin'-house ones are too. There is old Russia ; now that's one you never get tired of; and Washington's march is another, and so is Jim Crow Zionised. Lookin' on the same music-book with the ladies brings heads together, and if you don't put your hands on their shoulder or their waists you can't see straight, or stand steady to read. Many a match has been made afore now in the night singin'- schools. There is where I got my first lesson in manners, tho' father was always a-preaching up of manners to me too. Father, you know, was one of the heroes of Bunker's Hill. He was a sargeant at that glorious battle, and arterwards rose in Slickville to be a kurnel in the militia. He had quite a military air about him, had the old man, and was as straight as a poker at seventy, and carried his head as erect as the cap of a gate-post. He always used to say, 'March, — halt, — right wheel, — left wheel, — quick step,' and so on, to his bosses, to the last. He used to say you could always tell a military man by his walk, his talk, and his manners. In his Walk he was stately, for it looked hero-like ; in his talk he swore a few, for it was the way of the camp ; and in his manners, he was humble servant to the ladies, and haughty to the men, because one you fought for, and the other you fought with. Poor old man, he was always a-dingin' this lesson into my ears. * Always look up^ Sam; look up in manners^ and look up in {foliticks. In manners,' said he, 'a man that looks down ain't safe at all. It's a sure sign of roguery and treachery. Such a crittur will either lie, cheat, or steal, or do some bad thing or another, you may depend. Never trust a man that don't hold up and look you in the face ; such 1 crittur knows his heart is bad, and is afeerd you see into it thro' them 'are winders, his eyes. Have nothin' to do wi>h him on no account. Look at Lawyer Slyware : well, he is the most pious lawyer and the most extortionate man in all Slickville. You'd think butter wouldn't melt in that feller's mouth, and yet, when he is onder the protection of the Court, there ain't anything too bad for him to lay his tongue to in abusin' folks, and where money is concamed, he is mean and onreasonable. Some folks say his piety is jist a cloak, and nothin' more, to hide his claws ; how that is, I won't say ; but this I know, he looks down, and looks sideways, or any way but right up like a man at you full in the face, and such corn-crackers as that, let them be who they may, aren't over safe in the dark, or in the woods, I know. You recollect old Southey Crowe, don't you? Well, I'll tell you a story about him. He was one of those down-lookin* skunks I was a-speakin' of, and a more endless villain, p'raps, there ain't this i' ' i ■ t m 391 THE CLOCKMAKER blessed day atween the Poles than he was ; but you mustn't let on to anyone about it that I said so, for he has left some children behind him that ar^ well-to-do in the world, and different guess chaps from him altogether, and it would be a sin and a shame to hurt their feelin's by a revival; but it'9 true as gospel for all that. " * When minister was first located here, to Slickville, he thought his boss was the most everlastin' eater he ever see'd, for he used to eat more nor any two bosses in all the town, and says he to me one day, "ATwymel," says he, ** what's good for a boss that has an onnateral appetite, do you know ? " says he, " for my boss eats near a ton of hay a month." " It's worms," says I ; "nothin* will make a boss eat like the botts* "Well, what's good for botts ?" said he. " Well," says I, "chopped boss-hair in their oats ain't a bad thing, nor a little tobacco, nother ; but I'll look at him and see what it is, for I never heerd tell of a boss eatin' at that rate, at no time." Well, the next momin' I goes out to the stable along with minister, to see the boss, and there had fallen a Uttle chance of snow in the night, and there was the tracks of a man auite plain, where he had carried off hav, and the seed and dust of the clover was scattered all about after nim. " Minister,*' says I, ** there's the botts sure enough ; they have carried off the hay by wholesale, but they've tookt it afore the boss got it tho', and no mistake : look at them 'are tracks." " Dear, dear," said he, " only to think of the wickedness of this world ; who on airth could that be that was so vile ? " " Southey Crowe," said I ; " I'll put my head agin* a cent it's him, for in a gineral way I suspect them rascals that look down always. These are dark nights now, I guess, for it's in the old of the moon, and jist the time for rogues to be up and doin*. I'll keep watch for you to-night, and see who he is. I'll catch him, the villain, see if I don't." '^ Well, don't use your sword, nor your pistols nother, A'Kj'miel," said he ; "don't appre- hend him, nor slay him, or hurt him, but jist admonish, for I'd rather lose hay, boss, and all, than not to forgive the poor sinner, and reclaim him. Oh, how my heart rejoices over a repentin' sinner I " " Minister," says I, for I felt my pride touched at his talkin' that way of an officer's sword, as if it was nothin* but a constable's thief-sticker, and had half a mind to let the hay go to Old Scratch, for all me — " Minister," said I, in a dignified manner to him, " my sword, sir, has been drawed in my country's cause, and it shall never be disgraced by a meaner one. It is consecrated to everlastin' fame, and not to be defiled by the crop and gizzard of a scoundrel." . Well, at night I takes my lantern, the same I had to dress by in the wars, and goes and off shoes, and hides away in a vacant boss-stall near the door, and I had hardly got all snugged away in the boss-litter, and done swearin' at the parfume of it (for it ain't pretty to sleep in), when, who should come in but Southey Crowe. Well, he ups into the loft in little less lock slip free We but jist As thro LOOKING UP 393 less than half no time, and pitches down a considerable of a lock of hay, and then ties it up in a bundle fit for carriage, and slips it over his shoulder like a knapsack, so as to have his hands free to balance with in runnin', and to help him climb the fences. Well, as soon as he was ready he goes to the door and opens it ; but his bundle was a little grain too wide, and stuck a bit, and jist then, I out candle, and sets fire to his load in several places. As soon as he sees the light, he gives a jerk, forces the bundle thro' the doorway, and runs like Old Nick himself, as fast as he could cut dirt for dear life; and, fancyin' there was someone a-pursuin' of him, he never stopped to look behind iiim, but jist streaked it off like a greased thunderbolt. At last, the poor crittur was singed in airnest, and 'most suffocated, and he yelled and screamed most awful ; he was a caution to hear ; and the faster he ran, the faster the flame burned, till at last the cord give way, and down fell the burnin' bundle. A few days arterwards he came to minister, and confessed that he was the man, and said Heaven had sent down fire to burn the hay on him as a wamin' to him of the punishment to come for robbm' a minister. Well, what does minister do, the old goose, but ups and tells him human means was used, as it was my lantern. He said he didn't want to encourage superstition by pious frauds, and I don't know what all. It made me hoppin' mad to see him act so like an old fool. Well, what was the consequence of all this nonsense ? Why, Southey got over his fright, seein' the Devil had no hand in it, and went right at stealin' agin. He was one of them fellers that always look down^ was Southey. Cuss 'em, there is no trustin' any of them.' *'Then he used to say, 'Always look up in politicks^ Sam. Now we have two kinds of politicians, the Federalists and the Democrats. The Federalists look up^ and are for a vi.^^orous executive, for republican institutions such as Washington left us, for the state-tax for religion, and for enforcin' law and order — what you may call Consarvitives, p'raps ; and they appeal to men of sense and judgment, and property, to the humane, liberal and enlightened upper classes, and they want to see the reins of Government in the hands of such folks, because then we have some security things will be well administered. Then we have the Democrats^ fellers that look down; who try to set the poor agin' the rich, who talk of our best men with contempt, and hold 'em up as enemies to their country ; who say the Federalists are aristocrats, tyrants, and despots, and appeal to the prejudices and passions of the ignorant, and try to inflame them ; who use the word Reform as a catchword to weaken the hands of the Government, to make everything elective, and to take all power of good from the venerable senate (whose voice they call an aristocratic whisper), under pietence of restraining their power for evil. These are mob politicians. They first incite and discontent the mob, and they say the people must have a change of officers j and when they get 1r uii ■•■;! i.i ■•■' 11*'' ■* i; '1. > f 394 THE CLOCKMAKER into office, they sacrifice everybody and everything to keep in. This comes As we approached Slickville, the native town of the Clockmaker, he began to manifest great impatience and an extraordinary degree of excitement. He urged oi\ Old Clay to the top of his speed, who, notwithstanding all the care bestowed upon him, and the occasional aid of a steam-boat whenever there was one running in the direction of our route, looked much thinner for this prodigious journey than when we left Halifax. " Come, old Tee-total," said he, " you are a-goin' home now, and no mistake. Hold up your old oatmill, and see if you can snuflf the stable at minister's, if the smell of these inion fields don't pyson your nose. Show the folks you ain't forgot how to go. The weather. Squire, you see, has been considerable juicy here lately, and to judge by the mud some smart grists of rain has fell, which has made the roads soapy and violent slippery ; but if he can't trot he can slide, you'll find, and if he can't slide he can skate, and if he breaks thro' he can swim, but he can go somehow or another, or somehow else. He is all sorts of a boss, and the best live one that ever cut dirt this side of the big pond, or t'other side other ; and if any man will show me a boss that can keep it up as he has done in the wild wicked trot clean away from Kent's Lodge in Nova Scotia, to Slickville, THE OLD MINISTER 397 > Conne'ticut, and eend it with such a pace as that are, I'll give him Old Clay for nothin , as a suan for him. Go it, you old coon, you —go it ! anl make tracks like dry dust in a thunder-storm. Tliere now, that's it, I guess 1 hit or miss, right or wrong, tit or no tit, that's the tatur ! Oh, Squire, he ts a hoss, is Old Cl.iy, every inch of him 1 Start him agin for five hundred miles, and you'll find he 18 just the boy that can do it. He'd make as short work of it as a whole battalion ([(^zs of a pint of whisky at a gineral trainin'. If you want to see an. 'he/ beast like him in this world, put your spectacles on, and ^).jk as sharp as you darn please, for I reckon he is too far off to see with the naked eye, at least I could never see him." But Old Clay was not permitted to retain this furious rale long-, for recognition now became so frequent between Mr. Slick and his old friends, the people of Slickville, that the last mile, as he said, "tho' the shortest one of the whole bilin', took the longest to do it in by a jugful.'' The reception he met with on his return,to his native land was a pleasing evidence of the estimation in which he was held by those who best knew him. Nothing could exceed the kindness with which he was greeted by his countrymen. An invitation to a public dinner, presented by a deputation of the select men, as a token of their approbation of his " Sayings and Doings," was, however, so unexpected an honour on his part that his feelings nearly overpowered him. Perhaps it was fortunate that it had that effect, for it enabled him to make a suitable reply, which, under any other circumstances, his exuberant spirits and extravagant phraseology would have disqualified him from doing. He said he was aware he owed this honour more to their personal regard for him than his own merits ; but though he could not flatter himself he was entitled to so gratifying a distinction, it would certainly stimulate him to endeavour to render himself so. In our subsequent travels he often referred to this voluntary tribute of regard and respect of his countrymen in terms of great satis- faction and pride. He said there were but three days in his life that he could call raal tip-top ones ; one was when he was elected into the House of Representatives, and made sure he was to be Presiden^of the United States ; the second when, after finding his mistake, he ceased to be a member, and escaped out of the menagerie ; and the third, when he found himself thus publicly honoured in his native land. The reception he everywhere met with was most kind and flattering ; but Mr. Hopewell, the ex-minister of the parish, embraced him with all the warmth and affection of a father. He pressed him most cordially and affectionately to his bosom, called him his good friend, his kind-hearted boy, his dear and dutiful son. They were both affected to tears. He thanked him for having brought me to his house, to which he welcomed me in the most hospitable manner, and did me the favour to say that he had M 398 THE CLOCKMAKER looked forward with much pleasure to this opportunity of making my aoquamtance. The appearance of this venerable old man was most striking. In stature he exceeded the ordinary standard, and though not cor- pulent, he was sufficiently stout to prevent an air of awkwardness attaching to his hei^^ht. Notwithstanding his very great age, his Voice was firm, and his gait erect. His hair was of the most snowy whiteness, and his countenance, though furrowed with age and care, gave evidence of great intelligence and extraordinary benevolence. His manner, though somewhat formal, like that of a gentleman of the old school, was remarkably kind and prepos- sessing, and the general effect of his bearing was well calculated to command respect and conciliate affection. Those persons who have described the Yankees as a cold, designing, unimpassioned people, know but little of them or their domestic circles. To form a correct opinion of a people it is necessary to see them at home, to witness their family reunions, the social intercourse of friends, and, to use Mr. Slick's favourite phrase, "to be behind the scenes." Whoever has been so favoured as to be admitted on these intimate terms in New England, has always come away most favourably impressed with what he has seen, and has learned, that in the thousand happy homes that are there, there are many, very many, thousands of kind, and good, and affectionate hearts in them, to make them so. The temperature of Mr. Slick's mind was warm, and his spirits buoyant, and, therefore, though overcome for a time by various emotions, on the present occasion, his natural gaiety soon returned, and the appearance of Mr. Hopewell's sister, a maiden lady "of a certain age," who resided with him, and superintended his household, afforded him an opportunity of indemnifying himself. " Is that Aunt Hetty, sir?" said he, addressing himself to "the minister " with much gravity. " Why, yes, Sam, to be sure it is. Is she so much altered that you do not know her? Ah, rne ! we are both altered — both older than we were, and sadder too, Sam, since you left us." "Altered? I guess she is," says Mr. Slick ; " I wouldn't a' knowed her nowhere. Why, Aunt Hetty ! how do you do ? What on airth have you done with yourself to look so young ? Why, you look ten years younger. Well, if that don't pass!" "Well, you ain't altered, Sam," said she, shaking him heartily by the hand, " not one mite or morsel ; vou are jist as full of nonsense as ever ; do behave, now, that's a good feller." "Ah ! " he continued, " I wish I could alter as you do, and that 'are rose- bush of your'n onder the parlour winder ; both on you bloom afresh every month. Lord, if I could only manage as you do, grow younger every year, I should be as smart as a two-year-old soon ; " then, lowering his voice, he said, " Brought you a beau, aunty— that's the Squire, there — ain't he a beauty without paint, that ? The sarvant-maid stele his stays last night, but when he has THE OLD MINISTER 399 has 'em on, he ain't a bad figure, I tell you. The only thing against your takin' such a fat figure is, that you'd have to lace them stays every mornin' for him, and that's no joke, is it ? " " Now, Sam" said she (colouring at the very idea of a gentleman's toilette), " do behave, that's a dear ! The intire stranger will hear you, I am sure he will, and it will make me feel kinder foolish to have you runnin' on that way ; ha' done, now, that's a dear I " " Sit your cap up for him, aunty," he said, without heeding her ; " he is a blue-nose, to be sure, but rub a silver-skinned inion on it, and it will draw out the colour, and make him look like a Christian. He is as soft as dough, that chap, and your eyes are so keen they will cut right into him, like a carvin'-knife into a pum'kin pie. Lord, he'll never know he has lost his heart till he puts his ear to it like a watch, and finds it's done tickin'. Give me your presarves, tho', aunty, when you marry ; your quinces, and damsons, and jellies, and what not, for you won't want them no more. Nothin' ever tastes sweet arter lips. Oh, dear ! one smack o' them is worth — " " Do get along," said Miss Hetty, extricating, at last, her hand from his, and effecting her escape to her brother. " What a plague you be ! " It was a happy meeting, and at dinner Mr. Slick's sallies awakened many a long-forgotten smile on the face of his old friend, the minister. It is delightful to witness the effect of a young and joyous heart upon one that has become torpid with age, or chilled with the coldness and neglect of the world ; to see it winning it back to cheerfulness, warming it again into animated existence, beguiling it of its load of care, until it brightens into reflecting on its surface the new and gay images that are thus thrown upon it. After the cloth was removed, the conversation accidentally took a more serious turn. " So you are going to England, Sam, are you ? " said Mr. Hopewell. " Yes, Minister," replied the Clock- maker, " I am agoin' with the Squire, here. 'Spose you go with us. You are a gentleman at large now you got nothin' to do, and it will do you good. It will give you a new lease of life, I am a-thinkin'.'' The allusion to his having nothing to do was, to say the least of it, thoughtless and ill-timed. " Yes, Sam," said he, evidently much distressed, "you say truly, I have noihm* to do ; but whose fault is that ? Is it mine or my parishioners ? When my flock all turned Unitarians, and put another man in my pulpit, and told me they hadn't no further occasion for me or my sarvices, was it the flock that wandered or the shepherd that slept ? It is an awful question that, Sam, and one that must be answered some day or another, as sure as you are bom. I try to make myself believe it is my fault, and I pray that it may be so considered, and that I may be accepted as a sacrifice for them ; for willingly would I lay down my life for them, the poor deluded critturs. Then sometimes I try to think it warn't the J' ' i: 1 . I 11 ;■! |i ' ,, -!. .- 400 THE CLOCKMAKER fault of either me or my flock, but the fault of them 'are good-for- nothin' philosophers, Jefferson, Franklin, and them new school people that fixed our Constitution, and forgot to make Chiistianity the comer-stone. Oh, what an awful affliction it is for a country when its rulers are not attached to the Church of God ! If poor dear old General Washington had a-had his way, it would have been different, and he told me so with tears in his eyes. * Joshua,' says he, for him and me was very intimate — * Joshua,' says he, 'the people ascribe all the praise of our glorious revolution to their own valour and to me, because I am one of themselves, and are agoing to build a great city for a capital, and call it after me — Washington. But for Him^ Joshua,' said he, a-pintin' up to the skies with one hand, and devoutly oncoverin' his head with the other, ' but for Him, who upheld us in the hour of battle and in the day of trouble — for Him, to whom all honour, and praise, and glory is due, what have we done ? Why, carefully excluded the power to endow Christianity from every constitution of every state in the Union. Our language is at once impious and blasphemous. We say the Lord is better able to take charge of His clergy than we are, and we have no doubt He will. Let Him see to them, and we will see to ourselves. Them that want religion can pay for it. The State wants none, for it is an in- corporeal affair, without a body to be punished or a soul to be saved. Now, Joshua,' said he, ' you will live to see it, but I won't — for I feel as if they was agoin' to make an idol of me to worship, and it kills me — you will see the nateral consequence of all this in a few years. We shall run away from the practice of religion into theory. We shall have more sects than the vanity of man ever yet invented, and more enthusiasm and less piety, and more pretension and less morals than any civihsed nation on the face of the airth. Instead of the well-regulated, even pulsation that, shows a healthy state of religion, it will be a feverish excitement or helpless debility. The body will sometimes appear dead, as when in a trance. A glass over the lips will hardly detect respiration ; it will seem as if the vital spark was extinct. Then it will have fits of idiotcy, stupid, vacant, and drivelling ; then excitement will inspire zeal, genius, and eloquence, and while you stand lost in admiration of its powers, its beauty, and subhmity, you will be startled by its wildness, its eccentric flashes, its in- coherences ; and before you can make up your mind TOat it has lost its balance, you will be shocked 6y its insanity, its horrible frantic, raving madness. " ' Joshua,' said he, * we ought to have established a Church, fixed upon some one^ and called it a national one. Not having done so, nothing short of a direct interposition of Providence, which we do not deserve and therefore cannot hope for, can save this great country from becoming a dependency of Rome?. Popery, that in these States is now only a speck no bigger than a man's me. •^A THE OLD MINISTER 401 hand, will speedily spread into a great cloud and cover this land so no ray of light can penetrate it — nay, it is a giant, and it will enter into a divided house and expel the unworthy occupants. We tolerate Papists, because we believe they will inherit heaven equally with us ; but when their turn comes, will they tolerate us whom they hold to be heretics ? Oh, that we had held fast to the Church that we had ! the Church of our forefathers — the Church of England. It is a pure, noble, apostolic structure, the holiest and the best since the days of the Apostles ; but we have not, and the consequence is too melancholy and too awful to con- template. Was it for this,' said he, ' I drew my sword in my country's cause ?' and he pulled the blade half out. ' Had I known what I now know' — and he drove it back with such force, I fairly thought it would have come out of t'other eend— ' it should have rusted in its scabbard first ; it should, indeed, Hopewell. Now, Joshua,* said he— and he oncovered his head agin, for he was a rehgious man was Washington, and never took the Lord's name in vain — 'recollect these words: ** visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generations of them that hate me, and shewing mercy unto thousands oi them thai love me." May the promise be ours ; but, oh 1 far, far be the denuncia- tion from us and our posterity 1 Franklin, Joshua, has a great deal to answer for. Success has made him flippant and self- sufficient, and like all self-taught men, he thinks he knows more than he does, and more than anybody else. If he had more religion and less philosophy, as he calls scepticism, it would be better for him and us too. He is always a-sayin' to me, " Leave religion alone, Gineral : leave it to the voluntary principles the supply will always keep pace with the demand." It is the maxim ^ a pedlar, Joshua, and onworthy of a statesman or a Christian ; for in religion, unlike other things, the demand seldom or never precedes,\i\\\. aLimosiinvariadly/ol/oivsand increases with the supply. " An ignorant man knoweth not this, neither doth a fool under- stand it." I wish he could see with his own eyes the effects of his liberality, Joshua ; it would sober his exultation, and teach him a sad and humiliating lesson. Let him come with me into Virginia and see the ruins of thatgreatandgood establishment that ministered to us in our youth as our nursing mother — let him examine the ninety-five parishes of the State, and he will find twenty-three extinct, and thirty-four destitute, the pastors expelled by want, or violence, or death. " * His philosophy will be gratified too, I suppose, by seeing the numerous proselytes he has made to his enlightened opinions. In breaking up the Church, these rational religionists have adopted his maxims of frugality, and abstained from destroying that which might be useful. The baptismal fonts have been preserved as con- venient for watering horses, and the sacred cup has been retained as a felic of the olden time, to grace the convivial board. There a c • M 'I 402 THE CLOCKMAKER is no bigotry here, Joshua, no narrow prejudice, for reformers are always men of enlarged minds. They kave done their work like men. They have applied the property of the Church to secular purposes, and covered their iniquity under the cant of educating the poor^ forgetting the while that a knowledge of God is the foundation of all wisdom. They have extinguished the cry of the Church being in danger by extinguishing the Church itself. When reformers talk of religious freedom as a popular topic, depend upon ity they mean to dispense with religion altogether. What the end will be I know not, for the issues are with Him from whom all good things do come ; but I do still indulge the hope that all is not ■ yet lost. Though the tree be cut down, the roots are left ; and the sun by day and the dew by night may mature them, and new shoots may spring up, and grow luxuriantly, and afford shelter in due season to them that are weary and heavy-laden : and even if the roots should be killed, the venerable parent-stock on the other side of the water, from which ours is an offset, is still in full vigour ; and new layers may yet be laid by pious hands, which, under the blessing of Heaven, shall replace our loss. Yes, even I, though lately m arms against the English, may say : Long may the maternal Church live and flourish ! and may the axe of the spoiler never be laid upon it by sacrilegious hands ; for I warred with their King, and not against their God, who is my God also.' " Washington was right, Sam," continued Mr. Hopewell. " We ought to have an establishment and national temples for worship ; for He who is truth itself has said, * Where I record my name, I will come unto thee and bless thee.' Somehow, I fear His name is not legibly recorded here ; but whose fault was this desertion of my flock, mine or them philosophers that made the Constitution ?" I availed myself here of a slight pause in the conversation to give it another turn, for the excitement was too much for a man of his great years and sensibility. So I said that I perfectly agreed with General Washington, of whom I entertained as exalted an opinion as he did ; but that the circumstances of the times were such, and the prejudices against everything English so strong, it would have been utterly impossible for the farmers of the Constitution to have done otherwise than they did. " But," said I, " with reference to your visiting England, since steam navigation has been introduced, the voyage has been stripped of all its discomforts, and half its duration ; and I am confident the trip would be as beneficial to your health as your company would be instructive and agreeable to us. Have you ever been there ? " " Often," said he : " oh, yes ! I know, or rather knew, dear Old England well — very well ; and I had a great many friends and correspondents there, among the bishops, many dear, very dear, and learned friends ; but alas ! they are gone now " — and he took his spectacles off and wiped them with his handkerchief, for a tear had dimmed the glasses — " gone to receive the reward they have / ■•■"X . THE OLD MINISTER 403 to so Tiers Jut," earn . of the ould e?" Old and iear, took / earned as good and faithful stewards. Let me see," said he, " when was I there last ? Oh 1 my memory fails me. I'll jist step into my study and get my journal ; " but I fear it was to give vent to feelings that were overpowering him. When he had gone, Mr. Slick said, *' Ain't he a'most a beautiful talker, that, Squire, even when he is a little wanderin' in his mind, as he is now ? There is nothin' he don't know. He is jist a walkin' dictionary. He not only knows how to spell every w(jrd, but he knows its meanin', and its root, as he calls it, and what nation made it first. He knows Hebrew better nor any Jew you ever see, for he knows it so well he can read it backward. He says it's the right way ; but that's only his modesty, for I've tried English backward and I can't make no hand of it. Oh ! he'd wear a slate out in no time, he writes so much on things he thinks on. He is a peg too low now. I'll jist give him a dose of soft-sawder, for old or young, men or women, high or low, every palate likes that. I'll put him up if I can another note or so ; but he is so crotchied, and flies off the handle so, you hardly know where to touch him. The most curious thing about him is the way he acts about the stars. He has gin 'em all names, and talks of 'em as if they were humans ; he does, upon my soul. There is his Mars, and Venus, and Saturn, and Big Bear, and Little Bear, and the Lord knows what all. I mind once I put him into a'most an all-fired passion when he was talkin' about 'em. I never see him in such a rage before or since, for he didn't speak for the matter of three minutes. When he is mad, he jist walks up and dowp the room and counts a hundred to himself, and that cools him, for he says it's better to have nothin' to say than sunthin' to repent of. Well, this time, I guess, he counted two hundred, for it was longer than common afore he had added it all up and sum-totalised it. I'll tell you how it was. Him and me was a-sittin' talkin' over nothin' at all, jist as we are now, when all at once he gets up and goes to the winder, and presently sings out, * Sam,' says he, * put your hat on, my boy, and let's go and see Venus dip to-night ; ' but here he comes. I'll tell you that 'are story some other time, for here comes the Old Minister^ -\ 'r:'. II 404 THE CLOCKMAKER i : CHAPTER XIX THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS Such is the charm of manner, that it often happens that what we hear with pleasure we afterwards read with diminished satisfaction. I cannot now give the words of the Minister, for the memory seldom retains more than the substance, and I am quite aware how much these conversations lose in repeating. He was, as Mr. Slick observed, "the best talker I ever heard," and I regretted that my time was so limited I had it not in my power to enjoy more of his society at this place, although I am not altogether without hopes that as I have enlisted " Aunt Hetty " on my side, I have succeeded in persuading him to accompany us to England. How delightful it would be to hear his observations on the aspect of affairs there, to hear him contrast the present with the past, and listen to his conjectures about the future. With such a thorough knowledge of man, and such an extensive experience as he has had of the operation of various forms of government, his predictions would appear almost prophetic. When he returned from his study, Mr. Slick rose and left the room in search of amusement in the village, and I availed myself of the opportunity to ascertain his opinions respecting the adjoining colonies, for the constant interruption he received from the Clockmaker had a tendency to make his conversation too desultory for one whose object was instruction. I therefore lost no time in asking him what changes he thought would be desirable to improve the condition of the people in British America and perpetuate the connection with England. " Ah, sir," said he, " that word change is * the incantation that calls fools into a circle.' It is the riddle that perplexes British^< statesmen, and the rock on which they are constantly making shipwreck. They are like our friend Samuel, who changes his abode so often that removal has become necessary to his very existence. A desire for political change, like a fondness for travel, grows with the indulgence. V^h^iyou want in the colonies is tranquillity^ not change. Quod petis hie est. You may change constitutions for ever, but you cannot change man ; he is still unaltered under every vicissitude — the same restless, discontented, dissatisfied animal. Even in this pure unmixed democracy of ours he is as loud in his complaints as under the strictest despotism — nay, louder ; for the more he is indulged, the more intractable he becomes. The object of statesmen, therefore, should be, not to study what changes should be conceded, but the causes that lead men to desire change. The restlessness in the colonies proceeds not from grievances, for, with the exception THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS 40s of a total absence of patronage, they do not exist ; but it is caused by an uneasiness of position, arising from a want of room ^, ; to move in. There is no field for ambition, no room for the ' ,■ exercise of distinguished talent in the provinces. The colonists, '^ ' when comparing their situation with that of their more fortunate •'■ brethren in England, find all honour monopolized at home, and employment, preferments, and titles liberally bestowed on men i^ frequently inferior in intellect and ability to themselves, and this 7 invidious distinction sinks deeper into the heart than they are "^ willing to acknowledge themselves. Men seldom avow the real ;^; motives of their actions. A littleness of feeling is often in reality 4ik- the source of conduct that claims to spring from a virtue. A ■ V slight, an insult, or a disappointment, jealousy, envy, or personal ji dislike, often find a convenient shelter in agitation, and a more ;'; respectable name in patriotism. A man who quits his church in temper would have you believe he has scruples of conscience, which he requires you to respect ; and he who rebels in the hope of amending his fortune ascribes his conduct to an ardent love of country and a devotion to the cause of freedom. Grievances are convenient masks under which to hide our real objects. The . great question, then, is. What induces men in the provinces to resort to them as pretexts? The cause now, as in 1777, is the ' absence of all patronage ; the impossibility there is for talent to rise — want of room — of that employment that is required for % ability of a certain description ; at least, this is the cause with ? those who have the power to influence, to lead, to direct public ^ \ opinion. I allude only to these men, for the leaders are the workmen, and the multitude their tools. It is difficult to make an Englishman comprehend this. Our successful rebellion, one would have supposed, would not easily have been forgotten ; but, unfortunately, it was a lesson not at all understood." This was so novel a view of the subject, and the assertion that alHhe recent complaints were fictitious was so different from what I had apprehended to be the case, that I could not resist asking him if there were no real grievances in 1777, when his countrymen took up arms against us. " No, sir," said he, " none — none of any magnitude except the attempt to tax for the purpose of revenue, which was wrong — very wrong, indeed ; but if that which was put forth as the main one had been the real cause^ when it ceased the rebellion would have ceased also. But there was another, a secret and unavowed, the more powerful cause, the want of patronage. I will explain this to you. Statesmen have always been prone to consider the colonies as a field reserved for thu support of their dependents, and they are unfortunately so distant from the parent State that the rays of royal favour do not easily penetrate so far. Noisy applicants, mercenary voters, and importunate suitors at home engross the attention and monopolize the favour of tho«e in ; :,JI I 4o6 THE CLOCKMAKER power, and provincial merit is left to languish for want of encouraf[ement. The provincials hear of coronation honours, of flattering distinctions, and of marks of royal favour ; but, alas I they participate not in them. A few of the petty local offices, which they pay themselves out of their little revenue, hava long since been held their due, and within these few years I hear the reformers have generously promised not to deprive them of this valuable patronage in any case where it is not required for others. Beyond this honourable parish rank no man can rise ; and we look in vain for the name of a colonist, whatever his loyalty, his talent, or his services may be, out of the limits of his own country. The colonial clergy are excluded from the dignities of the Church of England, the lawyers from the preferments of the bar, and the medical men from practising out of their own country, while the professions in the colonies are open to all who migrate thither. The avenues to the army and navy, and all the departments of the imperial service are practically closed to them. Notwithstanding the intimate know- ledge they possess on colonial subjects, who of their leading men are ever selected to govern other provinces? A captain in the navy, a colonel in the army, a London merchant, or an unprovided natural son, any person, in short, from whose previous education constitutional law has been wholly excluded, is thought better qualified, or more eligible, for these important duties than a colonist, while that department that manages and directs all these dependencies, seldom contains one individual that has ever been out of Great Britain. A peerage generally awaits a govemor- p^eneral, but indifference or neglect rewards those through whose intelligence and ability he is alone enabled to discharge his duties. The same remedy for this contemptuous neglect occurs to all men, in all ages. When the delegate from the Gabii consulted Tarquin, he took him into his garden, and drawing his sword, cut off" the heads of the tallest poppies. The hint was not lost, and the patricians soon severally disappeared. When our agent in France mentioned the difficulties that subsisted between us and Britain, the king significantly pointed to a piece of ordnance, and observed it was an able negotiator, and the meaning was too obvious to be disregarded. When Papineau, more recently, asked advice of the reformers in England, he was told, ' Keep the glorious example of the United States constantly in view ; ' and an insurrection soon followed to destroy what his friend called *the baneful domination.* " The consequence of this oversight or neglect, as our revolution and the late disturbances in Canada but too plainly evince, is, that ambition, disappointed of its legitimate exercise, is apt, in its despair, to attempt the enlargement of its sphere by the use of the sword. Washington, it is well known, felt the chilling influence of this policy. Having attained early in life to great influence by . con! THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS 407 •*. the favour of his countrymen, not only without the aid but against the neglect of the Commander-in-chief, he saw a regular, and sometimes not a very judicious advancement, in the military operations of America, of every man who had the good fortune not to be a colonist. He felt that his country was converted into one of the great stages at which these favoured travellers rested for a time to reap the reward of their exile, and resume their journey up the ascent of life, while all those who permanently resided here were doomed to be stationary spectators of this mortifying spectacle. Conscious of his own powers, he smarted under this treatment, and he who became too powerful for a subject, might, under a wiser and kinder policy, have been trans- ferred to a higher and more honourable position in another colony. Progressive advancement, to which his talents, and at one time his services, gave him a far better claim than most governors can exhibit, would have deprived him of the motive,* the means, and the temptation to seek in patriotism what was denied to merit and loyalty. History affords us some recent instances, in which the administration in the parent state have relieved themselves of *an inconvenient friend,' by giving him an appointment abroad. Ambitious men, who attain to this inconvenient eminence in the colonies, might, with equal advantage to the country and them- selves, be transferred to a more extended and safer sphere of action in other parts of the empire. No man now pretends to deny that it was the want of some such safety-valve that caused the explosion in these old colonies that now form the United States. Patriotism then, as in all ages, covered a multitude of sins, and he who preferred, like a Washington, a Jefferson, or an Adams, the command of armies, the presidential chair of a great nation, and the patronage and other attributes of royalty, to the rank of a retired planter, a practising provincial barrister, or an humble representative in a local legislature, easily became a convert to the doctrine that a stamp act was illegal, and a tax on tea an intolerable oppression. When loyalty, like chastity, is considered, as it now is, to be its own great reward, and agitation is decorated with so many brilliant prizes, it is not to be wondered at if men constantly endeavour to persuade themselves that every refusal of a request is both an arbitrary and unjust exercise of power, that denial justifies resistance, and that resistance is a virtue. Instead of conceding to popular clamour changes that are dangerous, it is safer and wiser to give ambition a new direction, and to show that the Government has the disposition to patronize, as well as the power to punish. It is unjust to the Queen, and unkind to the colonists, to exhibit the image of their Sovereign in no other attitude than that of an avenging despot exacting obedience, and enforcing dependence. Royalty has other qualities that appeal to the hearts of subjects, but parliamentary influence is too selfish and too busy to permit statesmen to regard colonists in any other m m i| "i ffltl m lifS 4o8 THE CLOCKMAKER light than the humble tenantry of the distant possessions of the empire. Grievances (except the unavowed one I have just mentioned, which is the prolific parent of all that bear the name of patriots) fortunately do not exist ; but ambitious men, like hypochondriacs, when real evils are wanting, often supply their place with imaginary ones. Provincialism and nationality are different degrees of the same thing, and both take their rise in the same feeling, love of country, while no colony is so poor or so small as not to engender it. The public or distinguished men of a province are public property, and the people feel an interest in them in an inverse ratio, perhaps, to their own individual want of importance. To those who have the distribution of this patronage, it must be gratifying to know, that when this is the case, an act of Justice will always appear an act of grace ?^ " Here we is agin," said Mr. Slick, who now entered the room. " How am you was, how is you been, as Tousand Teyvils said to the Dutch Governor. Well, Minister, did you find the date ? When was it you was in England last ? '' Nothing could be more provoking than this interruption, for the subject we were talking upon was one of great interest to a colonist, and no opportunity occurred of reverting to it afterwards. The change of the topic, however, was not more sudden than the change of Mr. Hopewell's manner and style of speaking, for he adopted at once the familiar and idiomatic language to which Mr. Slick was more accustomed, as one better suUed to the level of his understanding. '* It was in '85," said Mr. Hopewell ; " I haven't been to England since, and that's fifty-five years ago. It is a long time that, isn't it ? How many changes have taken place since 1 I don't suppose I should know it agin now." "Why, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "you put me in mind of the Prophet." "Yes, yes, Sam," said he, " I dare say I do, for you are always a-thinkin' on profit and loss. Natur' jist fitted you for a trader, Dollars and cents is always uppermost on your mind." " Oh, dear," he replied, *' I didn't mean that at all ; I mean him that got on Pisgah. You have attained such a height as it mought be in years, you can see a great way behind, and ever so far ahead. You have told us what's 'fore us in our great republic ; now tell us what's afore England." " First of all," said he, " I'll tell you what's afore you, my son, and that is, if you talk in that 'are loose way in Britain, about sacred things and persons, you won't be admitted into no decent man's house at all, and I wouldn't admit you into mine if I didn't know your tongue was the worsest part of you, and that it neither spoke for the head or heart, but jist for itself. As for the English Empire, Sam, it's the greatest the world ever see'd. The sun never sets on it. The banner of England floats on every breeze and on every sea. So many parts and pieces require good management and great skill to bind together, for it an't a whole of itself, like a single stick- mast, but a spliced one, composed of numerous pieces and joints. 1' ill THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS 409 •» s e Now, the most beautiful thing of the kind, not political, but mechanical, is a barrel. 1 defy anyone but a raal cooper to make one so as to hold water ; indeed, it an't every cooper can do it, for there are bunglin' coopers as well as bunglin' statesmen. Now, see how many staves there are in a barrel — " "Do you mean a barrel -or<,'an," said the Clockmaker, " for some o' them grind some very tidy staves, of times, I tell you." " Pooh," said Mr. Hope- well — "how well they all fit, how tight they all come together, how firm and secure the hoops keep them in their places. Well, when it's right done, it don't leak one drop, and you can stand it upon eend, or lay it down on its side, and roll it over and over, and still it seems as if it were all solid wood. Not only that, but put it into a vessel, and clap a thousand of them right a-top of one another, and they won't squash in, but bear any weight you choose to put on them. But,' he continued — "but, sir, cut the hoops and where is your barrel ? " " Where is the liquor ? you should say," said Mr. Slick, " for that is always worth a great deal more than the barrel by a long chalk ; and while you are a-talkin' about cooperin', I will jist go and tap that 'are cask of prime old East Indgy Madeira Captain Ned Sparm gave you." " Do," said Mr. Hopewell ; ** I am sorry I didn't think of it afore ; but don't shake it, Sam, or you'll ryle it. Well, sir, where is your barrel ? why, a heap of old iron hoops and wooden staves. Now, in time, the heat of the sun, and rollin' about, and what not, shrinks a cask, as a matter of course, and the hoops all loosen, and you must drive them up occasionally, to keep all tight and snug. A little attention this way, and it will last for ever a'most. Now, somehow or another, the British appear to me of late years to revarse this rule, and instead of tightening the hoops of their great body politick, as they ought to do, they loosen them, and if they continue to do so much longer, that great empire will tumble to pieces as sure as we are a-talkm' here. "Now, one of the great bonds of society is religion — a national establishment of religion— one that provides, at the expense of the State, for the religious education of the poor — one that inculcates good morals with sound doctrines — one that teaches folks to honour the King, at the same time that it commands them to fear God — one that preaches humility to the rich, deference to the poor, and exacts from both an obedience to the laws — one that seeks the light it disperses to others from that sacred source, the Bible ; and so far from being ashanied of it, from excluding it from schools, says to all, * Search the Scriptures,'— one, in short, that makes people at once good men, good Christians, and good subjects. They have got this in England, and they are happy enough to have it in the Colonies. It's interwoven into the State so beautiful, and yet so skilful, that while the Church is not political^ the State is not religious. There is nothin' like their Liturgy in any language, nor never will be agin ; and all good men may be '; ,^i .% 410 THE CLOCKMAKER made better for their Book of Prayer — a book every Protestant ought to revere — for them that compiled it laid down their lives for it. // was written in the blood of the martyrs, and not like some others I could tell you of, in the blood of its miserable victims. Now, when I see ten Proiesta'-; bishops cut off at one fell swoop from Ireland, where they are so nuich needed, I say you are loosenin' the hoops. When I sec aid withdrawn from the Colonial Church, their temporalities int«^rfered with, and an attempt made to take away the charter from its college to Windsor, Nova Scotia — when I hear that the loyal colonists say ( I hope the report ain't true^ that they are discouraged, agitators boast they are patronized, and rebels runnin' about with pardons in their hands — when I hear there ain't diflference enough made between truly good conserva- tive subjects and factious demagogues, / say you are loosenin' the hoops—" " And when I hear all talk and no cider, as the sayin* is," said Mr. Slick, who just then returned with some of the old wine from the cellar, " I say it's dry work ; so here's to you, Minister, and let me advise you to moisten them 'are staves, your ribs, ox your hoops will oflf, I tell you. Put a pint of that 'are good old stuff under your waistcoat every day, and see how beautiful your skin will fit at the eend of a month. You might beat a tattoo on it like a drum." " You give your tongue a little too much license, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell ; "but, Squire, he is a sort of privileged man here, and I don't mind him. Help yourself, if you please, sir. Here's a pleasant voyage to you, sir. As I was a-sayin', when I hear it said to the bench of bishops, * Put your house in order, for your days are numbered,' I say you are more than loosenin' the hoops, you are stavin* in the cask. There are some things I don't onderstand, and some things I hear I don't believe. I am no politician ; but I should like to go to England, if I warn't too old, to see into the actual state of things. How is it there is a hoop loose in Newfoundland, another in the West Indgies, and half a dozen in Canada, another in the East, and one in almost every colony ? How is it there is chartism and socialism in England, secret associations in Ireland, rebellion in your pro- vinces, and agitation everywhere ? The hoops want tighteniri. The leaders of all these teams are runnin' wild because the reins are held too loose, and because they think the state-coachmen are afeerd on 'em. I hear they now talk of responsible government in the colonies ; is that true, sir?" I replied it had some advocates, and it was natural it should. All men like power ; and, as it would place the governors in subjection to the govem^^/, it was too agreeable a privilege not to be desired by popular leaders. " That," said be — " and few men livin' know more nor I do about colonies, for I was bom in one, and saw it grow and ripen into an independent state — that is the last bond of union between Great Britain and her colonies. Let her sever that bond, and she will find she resembles — the barrel without hoops.^^ \ ."■_x' FACING A WOMAN 411 CHAPTER XX FACING A-WOMAN I' ;'-' :' This was the day fixed for our departure, and I must say I never felt so much regret at leaving any family I had known for so short a time as I experienced on the present occasion. Mr. Slick, I am inclined to think, was aware of my feelings, and to prevent the formality of bidding adieu, commenced a rhodomontade conversa- tion with Aunt Hetty. As soon as we rose from the breakfast- table, he led her to one of the windows and said, with a solemnity that was quite ludicrous, " He is very ill, very ill indeed ; he looks as sick as death in the primer : I guess it's gone goose with him." " Who is ill ?" said Aunt Hetty, in great alarm. *' He is up a tree; his flint is fixed, you may depend." "Who, Sam? tell me, dear, who it is." *' And he so far from home ; ain't it horrid? and pysoned, too, and that in minister's house." " Lord, Sam, how you frighten a body 1 who is pysoned ?" " The Squire, aunty : don't you see how pale he looks." *' Pysoned I oh, for ever ! Well, I want to know. Lawful heart alive, how could he be pysoned ? Oh, Sam ! I'll tell you : I've got it now. How stupid it was of me not to ask him if he could eat them ; it's them presarved strawberries — yes, yes, it's the strawberries. They do pyson some folks. There was sister Woodbridge's son's wife's youngest darter that she had by the first marriage. Prudence. Well, Prudence never could eat them ; they always brought on — " " Oh 1 it s worse nor that, aunty ; it ain't strawberries, tho' I know they ain't good eatin' for them that don't like them. It's — " "And a mustard emetic was the onliest thing in natur' to relieve her. It made her — " " Oh ! it an't them, it's love ; you've killed him." ** Me, Sam ! why, how you talk 1 what on airth do you mean ? " "You've killed him as dead as a herring. I told you your eyes would cut right into him, for he was as soft as a pig fed on beech- nuts and raw potatoes ; but you wouldn't believe me. Oh 1 you've done the job for him: he told me so hisself. Says he, *Mr. Slick* (for he always calls me Mr. Slick, so formal), says he, * Mr. Slick, you may talk of lovely women, but I know a gal that is a heavenly splice. What eyes she has, and what feet, and what a neck, and what a — ' " " Why, Sam, the man is mad ; he has taken leave of his senses." "Madl I guess he is — ravin', distracted. Your eyes have pysoned him. He says, of all the affectionate sisters and charming women he ever see'd, you do beat all." "Oh 1 he means what I once was, Sam, for I was considered a likely gal in my day, that's a fact ; but, dear o' me, only to think times is altered." •* Yes i but you ain't altered ; for, says he, * For a woman of her ■i * .'I i!' \ l:il| ml ^3 I'll 412 THE CLOCKMAKER great age, Aunt Hetty is — * " " Well, he hadn't much to do, then, to talk of my advanced age, for I am not so old as all that comes to not her. He is no gentleman to talk that way, and you may tell him so." " No, I am wrong, he didn't say great age, he said great beauty: she is so very unaffected." "Well, I thought he wouldn't be so rude as to remark on a lady's age." " Says he, * Her grey hairs suit her complexion.* " " Well, I don't thank him for his impidence, nor you nother for repeatin' it." "No, I mean grey eyes. He said he admired the eyes : grey was his colour." "Well, I thought he wouldn't be so vulgar, for he is a very pretty man, and a very polite man too ; and I don't see the blue-nose you spoke of, nother." "And says he, * If I could muster courage, I would pro- pose — '" "But, Sam, it's so sudden. Oh, dear 1 I am in such a fluster, I shdl faint." " * I shall propose for her to—'" " Oh 1 I never could on such short notice. I have nothing but black made up ; and there is poor Joshua — " " * I should propose for her to accompany her brother — ' " " Well, if Joshua would consent to go with us ; but, poor soul ! he couldn't travel, I don't think." "*To accompany her brother as far as New York, for his infirmities require a kind nurse.' " " Oh, dear I is that all ? How mighty narvous he is. I guess the crittur is pysoned sure enough, but then it's with affectation." " Come, aunty, a kiss at partin'. We are off, good-bye ; but that was an awful big hole you made in his heart too. You broke the pane clean out and only left the sash. He's a caution to behold. Good-bye 1 " And away we went from Slickville. During our morning's drive the probability of a war with Enjj[land was talked of^ and in the course of conversation Mr. Slick said, with a grave face, " Squire, you say we Yankees boast too much ; and it ain't improbable we do, seein' that we have whifjped the Indgians, the French, the British, the Spaniards, the Algerines, the Malays, and every created crittur a'most that dared to stand afore us, and try his hand at it. So much success is e'en a'most enough to turn folks' heads, and make 'em a little consaiteQ, ain't it ? Now give me your candid opinion ; I won't be the leastest morsel offended if yomio give it agin' us ; but speak onresarved. Who do you think is the bravest people, the Yankees or the British? I should like to hear your mind upon it." "They are the same people," I said, "differing as little, perhaps, from each other as the inhabitants of any~two counties in England, and it is deeply to be deplored that two such gallant nations, having a common origin and a common language, and so intimately connected by the ties of consanguinity and mutual interest, should ever imbrue their hands in each other's blood. A war between people thus peculiarly related is an unnatural spectacle that no rational man can contemplate without horror. In the event of any future contest the issue will be as heretofore, sometimes in favour of one and sometimes of the other. Superior ■! H FACING A WOMAK 413 in ant nd ual od. iral nor discipHne will decide some cngag^ements and numbers others, while accidental circumstances will turn the scale in many a «»rell-fought field. If you ask me, therefore, which I conceive to be the braver people of the two, I should unquestionably say neither can claim pre-eminence. All people of the same stock, living in a similar climate, and having nearly the same diet and habits, must, as a matter of course, possess animal courage as nearly as possible in the same degree. 1 say habits, because we know that in individuals habits have a great d^al to do with it. For instance, a soldier will exhibit great fear if ordered to reef a topsail, and a sailor if mounted on the — " "Well, well," said he, " p'raps you are right ; but boastin' does some good too. Only get people to think they can do a thing and they can do it. The British boasted that one Englishman could whip three French- men, and it warn't without its effect in the wars' as Buonaparte knowed to his cost. Now, our folks boast that one Yankee can vaik into three Englishmen ; and somehow or another, I kinder guess they will — try to do it, at any rate. For my part, I am pretty much like father, and he used to say he never was afeerd of anything on the face of the airth but a woman. Did I ever tell you the story of father's courtship ?" " No," I replied, " never ; your stock of anecdotes is inexhaustible, and your memory so good you never fall into the common error df great talkers, of telling your stories a second time. I should like to hear it." " Well," said he, " it ain't an easy story to tell, for father always told it with variations, accordin' to what he had- on board at the time, for it was only on the annivarsary of his weddin' he used to tell it, and as there was considerable brag about father, he used to introduce new flrurishes every time, what our singin' master in sacred melody, Doldrum Dykins, used to call grace notes. ' Sam,' he said, * I have been married this day — let me see, how many years is it ? Do you recollect, Polly, dear ? ' ' Why,' says mother, * I can't say rightly, for I never kept a tally, but it's a considerable some tho', I estimate.' (She never would answer that question, poor dear old soul ! for women don't like to count arter that if they can help it, that's a fact.) 'Well,' says father, *it's either eight or nine-and-twenty years ago, I forget which.' * It's no such thing,' says mother, quite snappishly ; ' Sam is only twenty-one last Thanksgiving-day, and he was bom jist nine months and one day arter we was married, so there now.' (Father gives me a wink, as much as to say, ' That's woman now, Sam, all over, ain't it?') *Well, your mother was eighteen when we was married, and twenty-one years and nine months and one day added to that makes her near hand to fort—' ' Never mind what it makes,' says mother, *but go on with your story, whatever it is, and sumtotalise it. You are like Doldrum Dykins, he sings the words of each varse over three times.* *\Vell/ said he, 'this / will say, a younger-lookin', bloominer ;' n ■ ■! : f •i, :'! %\ -^ii 4^4 THE CLOCKMAKER woman of her age there ain't this day in all Slickville, no, not in Conne'ticut nother.' 'Why, Mr. Slick,' says mother, layin' down her knittin' and fixin' her cap, ' how you do talk ! ' * Fact, upon my soul, Polly ! ' said he ; ' but, Sam,' said he, ' if you'd a' see'd her when I first knowed her, she was a most super-superior gal, and worth lookin' at, I tell you. She was a whole team and a horse to spare, a raal screamer, that's a fact. She was a'most a beautiful piece of woman-flesh, fine corn-fed, and showed her keep. Light on the foot as a fox, cheeks as fair as a peach and hard as an apple, lips like cherries — Lick ! you wouldn't see such a gal if you was to sarch all the factories in Lowell, for she looked as if she could e'en a'most jump over her own shadow, she was so 'tarnal wiry. Heavins ! how springy she was to a wrastle, when we was first married. She always throwed me three or four times at first hand runnin' ; in course I was stronger, and it ginerally eended in my throwin' her at last ; but then that was nateral, seein' she was the weakest. Oh ! she was a raal doll ! she was the dandy, that's a fact.' * Well, I want to know,* said mother, * did you ever ? ' a-tryin' to look cross, but as pleased as anything, and her eyes fairly twinklin' agin to hear the old man's soft-sawder : ' Why, the man is tipsy to talk that way afore the boy ; do, for gracious' sake 1 behave, or I'll go right out ; ' and then turnin' to me and fillin' my glass, ' Do drink, dear,' says she, * you seem kinder dull.' ' Well, she was the only created critter,' says he, 'I ever see'd I was'darnted afore.' * You got bravely ovei it anyhow,' says mother. * Courtin',' says he, ' Sam, is about the hardest work I know on ; fightin' is nothin' to it. Facin' ball, grape, or bullet, or baganut, as we did at Bunker's Hill, is easy when a man is used to it, but facin' a woman is— it's the devjl, that's a fact. When I first see'd her she filled my eye chock-fuU ; her pints were all good ; short back, good rate to the shoulder, neat pastern, full about the — ' * There you go agin,' says mother ; * I don't thank you one bit for talkin' of me as if I was a filly, and I won't stay to hear it, so there now. I believe, in my soul, you are onfakilised.' *Well, I reconnoitred and reconnoitred for ever so long, a-considerin' how I was to lay siege to her — stormin' a battery or escaladin' a redoubt is nothin' to it, I have done it fifty times.' * Fifty times ! ' says mother, lookin' arch to him, for she was kinder sorted wrathy at bein' talked of as a horse. ' Well,' says father, * forty times at any rate.' * Forty times ! ' says mother ; 'that's a powerful number.' * Well, d— n it 1 twenty times then, and more too.' ' Twenty times 1 ' said she ; ' did our folks storm twenty batteries altogether?' 'Why, 'tarnation 1 ' says father, ' I suppose at last you'll say I warn't at Bunker's Hill at all, or Mud Creek, or the battle atween the outposts at Peach Orchard—' 'Or chargin' Elder Solomon Longstaffs sheep,' says mother. ' Well, by the 'tarnal 1 ' says father, who hopped with rage like a ravin,' distracted, parched pea ; ' if that bean't partikilar I am a pum'kin, >-i*{. FACING A WOMAN 4t$ and the pigs may do their prettiest with me. Didn't I tell you, Sam, nothin' could come up to a woman ? ' ' Except a filly,' says mother ; * now don't compare me to a hoss, and talk of pints that ain't to be thought of, much less talked of, and I won't jibe you about your campaigns, for one thing is sartain, no man ever doubted your courage, and Gineral Gates told me so himself. " Polly," says the Gineral, " if you take Sargeant Slick, you take a hero." ' * Well,' says father, quite mollified by that 'are title of hero, ' Gates was a good judge, and a good feller too. Fill your glass, Sam, for I always calculate to be merry on this night ; and, Polly dear, you must take a drop too : if we do get warm sometimes, makin' up seems all the sweeter for it. "'Well, as I was a-sayin', I studied every sort of way how I should begin : so at last, thinks I, a faint heart never won a fair lady ; so one Sabbath-day I brushed up my regimentals and hung old Bunker by my side, and ironed out my hat anew, and washed the feather in milk till it looked as well as one jist boughten, and off I goes to meetin'. Well, I won't say I heerd much of the sarmon, because I didn't ; but I know it was a little the longest I ever sot out ; and when we was dismissed, I was e'en a'most sorry it was over, I was so discomboborated, and I breathed as short as if J had a-been chasin' of the British all day. But at last I moved -Jt with the crowd, and movin' sot me all to rights agin. So ^ :hes up to Polly Styles that wa», your mother that is — *M< r/ says I, 'Miss Styles,' and I gave her a salute. * Why, Slick, says she, * how you talk ! you never did no such a thing ; iist as if I would let you salute me before all the folks that way.' 'I did tho*, upon my soul,' says father. 'I'll take my Bible-oath,' says mother, 'there is not a word of truth in it.' * Why, Polly,' says father, * how can you say so ? I brought both feet to the first position this way ' (and he got up on the floor and indicated), ' then I came to attention this way ' (and he stood up as stiff as a poker, he held his arms down by his side quite straight, and his head as erect as a flagstaff), * then I brought up my right arm with a graceful sweep, and without bendin' the body or movin' the head the least mite or morsel in the world, I brought the back of my hand against the front of my regimental hat ' (and he indicated again). ' Oh,' says mother, ' that salute, indeed 1 I detract, I recollect you did.' ' T/tai salute ! ' says father ; 'why, what salute did you mean?' 'Why,' says mother, colourin' up, ' I thought you meant that — that— that— never mind what I meant.' ' Oh, ho ! ' says father, ' I take, I take ; talk of a salute, and a woman can't think of anything else but a kiss. It's the first thing they think of in the mornin' and the last at night.' * Go on with your story, and cut it short, if you please,' says mother, 'for it's gettin' rather tedious.' 'Mornin',' says I, * Miss Styles, how do you do ? ' ' Reasonable well, I give you thanks,' says she; 'how be you?' 'Considerable,' says I. When that ■ IT Jiil" 4i6 THE CLOCKMAKER was done, the froth was gone, and the beer flat ; I couldn't think of another word to say for mindin' of her, and how beautiful she was, and I walked on as silent as if I was at the head of my guard. At last says your mother, ' Is that splendid regimental you have on, Mr. Slick, the same you wore at Bunker's Hill?' Oh, dear! what a load that word took off my heart ; it gave me somethin' to say, tho* none of the clearest. * Yes, miss,' says I, * it is ; and it was a glorious day for this great republic — it was the cradle of our liberty.* ' Well done. Slick ! ' says her father, as he rode by jist at that moment ; * you are gittin on bravely, talkin' of cradles already.* Well, that knocked me up all of a heap, and sot your mother a-colourin' as red as anything. I hardly know what I iaid arter that, and used one word for another like a fool. * We had twenty thousand as fine gallant young gals there,' says I, *that day as ever I laid eyes on.' ' Twenty thousand I ' said Polly, * do tell 1 Why, what on airth was they a-doin' of there?' * In arms,' says I, * a-strugglin' for their liberty.' * And did they get away ? ' said she, a-kughin'. * Poor things 1 * said I, *many of them, whose bosoms beat high with ardour, were levelled there that day, I guess.' * Why, Mr. Slick,* said she, 'how you talk 1 * ' Yes,' says I, *nine of them from Charlestown accompanied me there, and we spent the night afore the ingagement in the trenches without a blankit to cover us.' 'They had little to do to be there at such hours with you,' said Polly. * Little to do ! ' said I ; * you wouldn't have said so, miss, if you had a' been there. You'd a'found that lyin' exposed — * * I don't want to hear no more about it,' said she ; ' let's join mother, and I'll ax her about it.' ' Do,' said I, * and she'll tell you they fell on a bed of glory.' * Mother,' says Polly, ' Sargeant Slick says there were twenty thousand gals at Bunker's Hill ; did you ever hear tell of it afore ? * * Men,' says I. * No, gals,' said she. * No, men,' says I . * Twenty thousand gals,' they all repeated ; and then they laughed ready to kill themselves, and said, * What onder the sun could put such a crotchet as that 'are into your head ?' * Miss,' says I, ' if I did say so — ' ' Oh 1 you did,' said she, ' and you know it.' * If I did say so, it was a mistake ; but Ma/ put it into my head that put everything else out.' * And what was that ? ' said she. * Why, as pretty a gal,' said I, * as — ' * Oh ! then,' said she, ' they was all gals in the trenches, after all ? I won't hear no more about them at no rate. Good-bye ! ' Well, there I stood, lookin' like a fool, and feelin' a proper sight bigger fool than I looked,, ' Dear heart ! * says mother, gittin' up and goin* behind him, and pattin' him on the cheek — ' did she make a fool of him then ? ' and she put her arm round his neck and kissed him, and then filling up his tumbler, said — * Go on, dear.' * Well, it was some time,' said father, * afore I recovered that misstep ; and whenever I looked at her afterwards she larfed, and that confused me more ; so that I began to think at last it would be jist about as well for me to give it up as a bad bargain, when one Sabbath-day I observed all the Styles's a-comin' I. FACING A WOMAN 417 nn' to mcetin' except Polly, who stayed at home ; so I waits till they all goes in, and then cuts off hot foot for the river, and knocks at the door of the house, tho' I actilly believe my heart beat the loudest of the two. Well, when I goes in, there sot Polly Styles that was, your mother that is, by the fire a-readin' of a book. * Goin' to meetin' ? * says I. * I guess not,* said she, ' are you ? ' * I guess not,' said I. Then there was a pause. We both looked into the fire. I don't know what she was a-thinkin' on ; but I know what I was, and that was what to say next. ' Polly,' said I. * Did you speak?' said she. * I — I— I — ' it stuck in my throat. ' Oh ! ' said she, ' I thought you spoke. ' Then we sot and looked into the coals again. At last she said, *What couple was that was called last Lord's Day ?' * I don't mind,' said I ; 'but I know who I wish il was.' 'Who ? ' said she. * Why, me and somebody else.' ' Then why don't you and somebody else get called then ? ' said she. * I — I — I— * it stuck again in my throat. If I hadn't a' been so bothered advisin' of myself, I could have got it out, I do suppose ; but jist as I was a-goin' to speak, I couldn't think of any words but ' How's your time, it's a grand chance.' Arter a while, says she, 'Father will be to home soon, I am a-thinkin' ; meetin' must be near out now.' ' Like as not,' says I. Presently up jumps Polly, and says, * Entertainin' this, ain't it ? S'posin' you reaa me a sarmon, it will give us somethin' to talk about.' And afore I could say a word agin' it, she put a book into my hand, and said, ' Begin,' and threw herself down on the settle. Well, I hadn't read a page hardly afore she was asleep, and then I laid down the book, and says I to myself, says I, 'What shall I do next ?' and I had jist got a speech ready for her when she woke up, and rubbin' her eyes, said, ' I am 'most afeerd I gave you a chance of a forfeit by nappin' arter that fashion ; but, as luck would have it, you was too busy reading. I'll take care not to do so agin. Go on, if you please, sir.' Well, I began to read a second time, and hadn't gone on above a few minutes afore a little wee snore showed me she was asleep agin. *Now,' says I to myself, 'arter such an invitation as she gin about the gloves, I am darned if I don't try for the forfeit while she is asleep.' * I didn't give no such invitation at all about the gloves,' says mother. ' Don't believe one word of it ; it's jist an invention of his own. Men like to boast, and your father is the greatest bragger livin' out of the twenty thousand p;als that was at Bunker's Hill.' 'Polly,' says father, 'it's nateral to deny it, but it's true for all that. Well, says I to myself, says I, ' Suppose it was the devil or a Britisher that was there, Sargeant Slick, what would you do ? Why,' says I to myself for answer, ' I would jist shut my eyes and rush right at it,' and with that i plucked up courage and run right at the settee full split. Oh, dear 1 the settee warn't strong enough. ' Lav/ful heart I ' says mother, * what a fib ! Did you ever ? Well, I never did hear the beat of that ; it's all made 2 U 1 ' 1 ■!, ^1 T fi ■ ■ fihi 4i3 THE CLOCKMAKER out of whole cloth, I declare.' * The settee warn't strong enough/ said father ; ' it broke down with an awful smash ; your mother, Polly Styles that was, kickin' and screamin' till all was blue agin. Her comb broke, and out came her hair, and she looked as wild as a hawk. 'Gloves !' says I. 'You shan't,' says she. 'I will,* says I. * In arms a-strugglin' for their liberty,' says her father, who jist then come in from meetin'. Polly squeeled like a rat in a trap, and cut and run out of the room full chisel. ' Dear, dear ! ' said mother, * what will he say next, I wonder ? ' * And then the old man and me stood facin' one another like two cats in a garret. " * An accident,' says I. *So I perceeve,' says he. ' Nothin' but lookin' for a pair of gloves,' says I. 'As you and the nine gals did at the trenches at Bunker's Hill,' said he, *for the blankit.' 'Now, friend Styles,' said I. * Now, friend Slick,* said he. * It warn't my fault,' says I. ' Certainly not,' says he ; ' a pretty gal at home >«« — family out — used to twenty thousand gals in war, it's nateral to make love in peace. Do you take ? ' * Well,' says I, * it does look awkward, I confess.' *Very,' says he. 'Well, Slick,' says he, *the long and short of the matter is, you must either marry or fight.' Says I, ' Friend Styles, as for fightin'. Bunker's Hill, Mud Creek, and Peach Orchard are enough for any one man, in all conscience ; but I'll marry as soon as you please, and the sooner the better.' ' So I should think,' said he. No, no, neighbour Styles,' said I, * you don't do me justice, you don't, indeed ; I never had the courage to put the question yet.' 'Well, if that don't cap all 1' says mother; 'that beats the bugs. It does fairly take the rag off.' 'A man,' says Mr. Styles, 'that has nine ladies in the trenches with him all night, in arms a-strugglin' for liberty, without a blankit to cover them, to talk of not havin' courage to put the question, is rather too good. Will you marry?' *I will,' says I, 'and only jist too happy to—' * You shall be called, then, this blessed arternoon,' said he ; 'so stay dine, son Slick.' Well, to make a long story short, the thing turned out better than I expected, and v^e were spliced in little better than half no time. That was the first and last kiss I ever had afore we was married, Polly was so everlastin' coy ; but arterwards she nev — ' ' Not one word more,' says mother, 'to your peril, not one word more,' and she got up and shook her knittin' at him quite spunky. ' Most o' that 'are story was an invention of your own — jist a mere brag — and I won't hear no more. I don't mind a joke when we are alone, but I won't hear nothin' said afore that 'are boy that lessens his respect for his mother the leastest grain ; so there now,' * Well, well,' says father, ' have it your own way, Polly dear. I have had my say, and I wouldn't ryle you for the world ; for this I will say, a'most an excellent wife, dependable friend, and whiskin' housekeeper you have made to me, that's sartain. No man don't want no better, that's a fact. She hadn't no ear for musickf Sam ; but she had a capital eye for dirty and for THE ATTACH^ 419 poor folks that's much better. No one never see'd as much dirt in my house as a fly couldn't brush off with his wings. Boston gals may boast of its spinets, and their j^^ters and their Eyetalian airs, and their ears for musick; but give me the gal, I say, that has an eye for dirt^ for she is the gal for my money. But to eventuate my story — when the weddin' was over, Mr. Styles that was your grandfather that is, come up to me, and tappin' me on the shoulder, says he, ' Slick,' says he, ' everybody knew you was a hero in the field, but I actilly did not think you was such a devil among the gals. Nine of them in the trenches at one time, in arms, a-strugglin' for their liberty, and so on. You must give over them pranks now you are married.' *This is all very well as a joke,' says father ; ' but Sam, my son,' says he, * them that have see'd sarvice, and I flatter myself I have see'd as much as most men, at Bunker's Hill, Mud Creek, and Peach Orchard, et sarterar, as the Boston merchants say — veterans, I mean — will tell you, that to face an inimy is nothin', but it is better to face the devil than to face — a woman.*** _ CHAPTER XXI THE ATTACH^ H r 'ii to' iW. No ear for This being the last day at my disposal at New York, I went on board the Great Wesiem^ and secured a passage for myself and Mr. Slick ; and, as there were still several vacant berths, had the gratification to find there was room for my worthy friend Mr. Hopewell, if he should incline to accompany us, and arrive in time to embark. I then sauntered up through the Broadway to a coach- stand, and drove to the several residences of my kind and agreeable friends, to bid them adieu. New York is decidedly the first city of the western world, and is alike distinguished for the beauty of its situation and the hospitality of its inhabitants. I left it not without great regret, and shall always retain the most pleasing recollection of it. In this respect I understand I am by no means singular, as no stranger, bringing proper introductions, is ever permitted to feel he is alone in a foreign land. Soon after I returned to the hotel, Mr. Slick entered, with a face filled with importance. " Squire," said he, " I have jist received a letter that will astonish you, and if you was to guess from July to etarnity you wouldn't hit on what it's about. I must say I am pleased, and that's a fact ; but what puzzles me is, who sot it agoin'. Now, tell me candid, have you been writin' to the British Embassador about me since you came?" *'No," I replied, '* I have not the honour of his n m Mi 420 THE CLOCKMAKER acquaintance. I never saw him , and never had any communication with him on any subject whatever." " Well, it passes, then," said he, " that's sartain. I haven't axed no one nother, and yet folks don't often get things crammed down their throats that way without sayin', by your leave, stranger. I han't got no interest ; I am like the poor crittur at the pool, I han't got no one to put me in, and another feller always steps in afore me. If Martin Van has done this hisself he must have had some motive^ for he han't got these things to throw away ; he wants all the offices he has got as sops to his voters. Patriotism is infamal hungry, and as savage as Old Scratch if it an't fed. If you want to tame it, you must treat it as Van Amburg does his lions, keep its belly full. I wonder whether he is arter the vote of Slickville, or whether he is only doiu' the patron to have sunthin' to brag on ? I'd like to know this, for I am not in the habit of barkin' up the wrong tree if I can find the right one. V/ell, well, it don't matter much, arter all, what he meant, so as he does what's right and pretty. The berth is jist the dandy, that's a fact. It will jist suit me to a T. I have had my own misgivin's about goin* with you, Squire, I tell, for the British are so infamal proud that clockmakin' sounds everlastin' nosey to them, and I don't calculate in a gineral way to let any man look scorney to me, much less talk so ; now this fixes the thing jist about right, and gives it the finishin' touch. It's grand 1 I've got an appointment, and I must say, I feel kinder proud of it, as I never axed for it. It's about the most honourable thing Martin Van over did since he became public. Tit or no tit, that's the tatur 1 and I'll maintain it too. I'll jist read you a letter from Salter Fisher, an envoy or sunthin' or another of that kind in the Secretary of State's office. I believe he is the gentleman that carries their notes and messages : '' Private. My dear Slick,— Herewith I have the honour to enclose you your commission as an attachi to our legation to the Court of Saint Jimses, Buckin'ham, with an official letter announcin' the President's nomination and Senate's vote of concurrence. Martin ordered these to be put into the mail, but I have taken the chance to slip this into the paper-cover. It is the policy of our Govern- ment to encourage wditive authors and reward merit ; and it makes me feel good to find your productions have made the name of this great and growin' republic better known among Europeans, and we expect a considerable some, that this appointment will enable you to exalt it stiil further, and that the name of Slick will be associated with that of our sages and heroes in after ages. This commission will place you on a footin' with the princes and nobles of England, give you a free ticket of admission to the palace, and enable you to study human natur' under new phases, associations, THE ATTACH^ 421 and developments ; that is, if thare is any natur' left in such critturs. With such opportunities, the President expects you will not fail to sustain the honour of the nation on all occasions, demanding and enforcing your true place in society, at the top of the pot, and our exalted rank at foreign courts as the greatest, freest, and most oiilightened nation now existin'. It would be advisable, if a favourable opportunity offers, to draw the attention of the Queen to the subject of her authors and travellers — carelessly like, as if it weren't done a-purpose, for it don't comport with dignity to appear too stnsiiive, but jist merely to regret the pra.cftci of hirin' authors to abuse us in order to damp the admiration of Europeans of oUr glorious institutions. We have every reason to believe that Captain Hall received five thousand pounds for this purpose, and Mrs. Trollope the same sum ; that Miss Martineau is promised a royal garter (it's a pity she warn't hanged with it), and Captain Marryat to be made a Knight of the Royal Baths. This conduct is onworthy a great people like the lilnglish, and unjust and insultin' to us ; and you might suggest to her Royal Highness that this mean, low-lived, dirty conduct will defeat itself, and that nothin' short of kickin' out her ministry will be accepted as an apology by the American people. You might say to her ladyship, that the city articles in the Times newspaper are very offensive to us, and that tho' individually we despise such low blackguardisms, yet collectively the honour of the nation demands satisfaction. That her Govern- ment pays for their insartion there can be no doubt ; and the paltry trick of Mr. Melburne bribin' opposition papers to let 'em in, is an artifice that may cover the rascality to ignorant British, but can't draw the wool over our eyes. If you have no opportunity to say this to her, tell Albert Gotha, her bridegroom, to tell her plainly, if she don't look sharp, we'll retaliate and /luni red foxes for her in Canada, as we did two winters ago. Caution is necessary in conversation, in speakin* of our army, navy, and resources of war, for the ministers will pump you if they can. Boastin' without crackin' is the true course. For instance, if war is talked of, regret the smallness of our navy ; for, if they had to contend with France and England at the same time, the issue would be extremely doubtful. That is a clear intimation we could lick either, and ain't afraid of both, and yet don't say so. So, in speakin' of the army, deprecate a war, and say marchin' one hundred and fifty thousand men into Canada would interfere with intarnal improvements by raising the price of labour. It is this species of delicate brag that best becomes a high functionary. It is not to be doubted you will return as you go, a republican at heart, and that future honours await you. Your name is now well and favourably known, and, what is better, is popular, as you may infer, when I tell you that the very pen with which this is wrote is a " Sam Slick pen." The highest gift in the hands of man, thp :;.ttl ••'ii 422 THE CLOCKMAKER presidential chair, should now and henceforth be the object of your ambition. We look forward with much gratification to your delineation of English character, their exclusiveness, their self- sufficiency, their stronghold of slavery — the factories, their overfed clergy, overpaid officials and antiquated institutions, their defence- less condition, half-manned navy, and radical army, their proud and dissolute aristocracy, their turbulent and factious commons, and brutally ignorant peasantry. I estimate when they hear of your appointment they will feel considerable streaked, for they must know you won't spare them. While you are visitin' among the gentry and nobility, you might keep a journal on the sly, and send it out by the steamers to some leadin' papers, which would be killin' two birds with one stone, livin' free of cost and makin' money out of them at the same time. Where you can, give the real names in full ; where it ain't safe, for fear of a scuffle, say Duke A , Lord B , Lady C , and occasionally the Q told me. It sounds well this, and shows your standin' is high, and is peakaunt. Anecdotes of high life sell well if they are racy. Then collect them together into a book onder some takin', onpretending title, as " Mems of a Mum," or " Scrawlin's afore Bed-time," or some such name. The proceeds will enable you to cut a better dash at Court ; only don't tell 'em you are a-doin' of it in England. No man entertains a spy if he can help it. "A word to the wise— will always suffice — .'' This will pave the way well for your progress to the presidential chair. While on this subject, it might not be amiss to hint a change of party might occasion a change of office-holders ; and that tho' too strong to require any aid for ourselves, we hope for your family ticket in Slickville and its vicinity to enable us to keep you in your present honourable position. Without this berth, you would find the first circles as stiff as an ongreased mast ; this appointment will ile that beautiful, and make you slide as easy as on well- slushed ways. Avail it. Sustain the honour of the nation, and paint the name of Sam Slick indelibly on the dial-plate of Fame, that the finger of Time may point it out to admirin' posterity, to all etamity. — Yours to command, Salter Fisher. P.S. — I will give you a wrinkle on your horn that's worth havin*. Should our great |^un be absent and you left in London, recollect we do as the British do, give no instructions we can help ; write what must be wrote so it will read any way, and leave subordinates to incur all responsibility of actin' and readin'. Meet 'em in their own way by referrin' all home, and puttin' the saddle on the right horse in spite of him. Let the shafter do his own work. Do you take ?— S. F. As soon as the Clockmaker had read this epistle, he observed in a half-soliloquizing, half-conversational tone, "An* Attach^! T/v: THE ATTACH fi 423 ^yelI, it's a station of great dignity too, ain't it ? It makes me feel kinder narvous and whimble-cropt, for I have got to sustain a new character, and act a new part in the play of life. To dine at the palace with kings, queens, and princes ; what a pretty how-d'ye-do that is, ain't it ? Won't it be tall feedin' at Queen's table, that's all ; and I am a raal whale at ducks and green peas. Lord, I am afeerd I shall feel plaguy awkward too, with a court dress on. I once see'd a colony chap rigged out in a suit he hired of a Jew, for levee day, and I am teetotally extinctified if he didn't hok for all the world like the baboon that rides the pony in the circus. He was small potatoes and few in a hill, that feller, I tell you. He looked as mean as a crittur with one eye knocked out and t'other a-squint. He seemed scared at himself, as the bull did when he got opposite the lookin'-glass. Heavens and airth 1 if the dogs had only see'd him, they'd a' gin him a chase for it, I know ; the way they'd a' foxed him and a' lamed him fleas ain't lobsters would have been a caution to monkeys to hold up their tails afore they shut-to the door arter them. A crittur with a good nose would put up some 'tarnal queer birds in the long stubble at St. Jimse's, that's a fact. Yes, I am afeerd I shall feel monstrous onconvenient, as if I warn't jist made to measure. Carry in' a sword so as to keep it from stickin' atween your legs and throwin' you down, ain't no easy matter nothcr, but practice makes perfect, I do suppose. Well, I vow, our noble institutions do open avenues to ambition and merit to the humblest citizens, too, don't they ? Now, tell me candid. Squire, don't it make your mouth water ? How would you like Mr. Melburne to take you by the seat of your trousers with one hand, and the scruff of your neck with the other, and give you a chuck up stairs that way, for nothin', for he is jist the boy that can do it. But catch him at it, that's all ; no, indeed, not he, for breeches ain't petticoats, nor never was, except in Turkey and Egypt, and when kissin' goes by favour, who would look at a dispisable colonist. Well, Martin Van has done that to me, and he is a gentleman, every inch of him, and eats his bread buttered on both sides. " Only to think, now, Sam Slick, the Clockmaker, should be a member of our legation to the greatest nation in the world next to us. Lord, how it would make poor dear old mother stare, if she could only lift herself up out of the grave, and open her eyes. It would make her scratch her head and snicker, / know ; for only thinkin' of it kinder gives me the peadoddles myself. What on airth do they talk about, I wonder, when they get together at the palace, them great folks and big bugs. Clocks, I do suppose, must be sunk, and bosses and tradin' in a small way too ; it wouldn't convene with dignity that sort o' gab. One good thing, I've see'd a considerable of the world in my time, and don't feel overly daunted by no man. Politics I do know in a gineral way (^ well as most men j colonies and colony chaps, too, I know better 4«4 THE CLOCKMAKER than any crittur I'd meet, and no mistake. Pictur' likeness fs a thing I won't turn my back on to no one, nor bronzin', nor gildin', nother, for that's part of the clock bizness. Agriculture I was brought up to, and gunnin' and trappin' I was used to^ince I was a boy. Poetry is the worst ; if the gals at the palace begin in that line, I'm throwed out as sure as a gun, for 1 shall hang fire, or only burn primin', for I han't even got two fingers of a charge in me, and that's damaged powder too. I never could bear it. I never see a poet yet that warn't as poor as Job's turkey, or a church mouse ; or a she-poet that her shoes didn't go down at heel, and her stockin's look as if they wanted darnin , for iv''s all cry and little wool with poets, as the devil said when he sheared his hogs. History I do know a little of, for I lamed Woodbridge's Epitome at school, and the Bible, and the history of our revolution I know by heart, from Paradise to Lexin'ton, and from Bunker's Hill to Independence. But I do suppose I must rub up a little on the passage. Musick I don't fear much, for I rather pride myself on my ear and my voice ; and psalmody I lamed at singin' schools ; so operas and theatres will soon set me right on that. But dancin' is what I can take the shine oft' most folks in. I was reckoned the supplest boy in all Slickville. Many's the time I have danced 'Possum up a gum-tree* at a quiltin' frolic or huskin* party, with a tumbler full of cider on my head, and never spilt a drop ; I have, upon my soul." He then got up and executed several evolutions on the floor which would have puzzled an opera- dancer to imitate, and then said with an air of great self-satisfac* tion : " Show me any lord in England that could do that, and I'll give him leave to brag, that's all. Oh dear, I'll whirl them maids of honour at the palace round and round so fast in a waltz, no livin' soul can see me a-kissing of them. I've done it to Phcebe Hopewell afore her father's face, and he never knowed it, tho' he was lookin' on the whole blessed time — I hope I may be shot if I han't. She actilly did love them waltzes the wickedest I ever did see. Lick I there is some fun in thai 'are, ain't they ? It ain't often they get a smack from raal right-down good genuwina Yankee lips, sweet-fed on com and molasses, I know. If they only like them half as well as dear little Phcebe did, I'm a made man, that's all. The only thing in dancin', like boatin', is to keep a straight keel. That's the raal secret. P'raps the very best -way arter all is, I believe, at first to play mum, say little and hear everything, and then do jist Hke other folks. Yes, that's the plan, for liquor that's well corked is always the best up. An Attachit well that sounds dreadful pretty, too, don't it ? Then, as for dress, I guess I'll wait till I reach London, that my coat may be the raal go, and up to the notch ; but the button I'll get now for't would look shockin' han'sum, and more like the raal thing. Yes, I'll jist step into the chamber and slick up my hair with a taller candle, ana put my bettermost coat into a silk pocket-handkerchief, and THE ATTACHfi 425 take it down to Hellgo and Funk, the tailors (I knowed 'em in Boston), and get the legation button put on, for it will command respect on board the Great Western. I lamed that from brother Josiah. He always travels with several trunks ; he says it brings the best rooms and best attendance at inns always, for they think you must be somebody to have so much luggage. He told me as a fact, they paid carriage very well. An Attacfti t ! "Well, it's funny, too, ain't it? It sounds raal jam that. I must tay I feel kinder obleeged to Mr. Van Burin for this good turn he has done me. I always thought he was very much of the gentleman in his manners, and the likeliest man in the States, and now 1 swear by him. Yes, loco-foco as he is, I go the whole figur' for Martin Van, that's a fact. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or mUdscraper, I'm his man ; I'll go in fo«- him up to the handle, and so will all us Slickville folks, for in elections we pull like inions all on one string, and stick to our man like birrs to sheep's wool. And now. Squire," said he, jumping up, and taking me by the hand, "and now, my friend, shake flippers along with me, and congratulate me. When I return from the tailor's I shall be a new man. You then will meet the Honourable Samuel Slick, an Attach^ to our Legation to the Court of Saint Jimse's, Victoria's Gotha. And him you will have as a feller-passenger. You had sense enough not to be ashamed of me when I was a-hoein' my way as a tradin' man, and I wont go for ^o cut you now, tho' you are nothin' but a down-east Provincial. All I ask of you is, keep dark about the clocks ; we'll sink them, if you please ; for, by gum, you've seen the last of Sam Slicky the Clockmaker. Ana now, Squire, I am your humble servant to command, •*The Attach^." ,„J^^' A.- ■'-■. . ■ :i'*' ,. /o. ...... -^^ THI END .■■.■■■.Nf' m W. JOLLY AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, ABERDEEN, SC©TLANP. ^ Mill m r u /*-/*• - iV r v. .( s.: ■ % Routledge's Popular Library. Large demy 8vo, cloth, each vol. 3s, 6d. 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