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'-■*■! ¥' '%■ *•;■.-,•: il*f •>,-fvtt « , /** :•!*:'■ •% » i% Mk^ iM yn h^ i V L €l)c illiUcr^itic CliisisficjS THE CLOCKMAKER SAYINGS AND DOINGS OF 15 SAMUEL SLICK OF SLICKVILLE BY THOMAS CHANDLER HALIBURTON ILLUSTRA TED BY F.O. C. DA RLE V ROSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTOxN, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY ^s /? 7/ 163873 Entered according to Act of Congresp, in the year 1871, by "URD AND HocGnroN, lu the Office of the Libi.irian of Congress at Washington. All rights reserved. H The tiiversiffe Press, Cnmbrirts^e i Stereotvped and Printed by II, 0. Houghton & Co. t* 1 "' I 1 ^^ «) 1 ^^ E?. ■ •1 • 1 to 1 re . ill '■ 1 ^' 11 Pi U ti 1 ^ ^Kl m ^ 1 '^ 1 "^ B I I I ADVERTISEMENT. t I The name " Sam Slick " has passed into popular use as standing for a somewhat conventional Yankee, in whom sharpness and verdancy are combined in curious proportions; but the book which ga^^e rise to the name has long been out of print. It is now revived, under the impression that the reading public will have an interest in seeinsf a work which, more probably than any other one book, served to fix the prevailing idea of the Yankee character. However true or false the impression it created, the qualities which rendered it popular a generation ago remain, in a shrewdness of observation, a fund of anecdote •and racy adventure, a quaintness of expression, and fkeen mother wit. In no other work of literature is "there preserved so lirge a collection of idiomatic phrases, words, and similes, — whole stories in them- selves and pictures of society at the time, which grow more interesting, the more historic they become V n IV AD VKRTliSKMEIST. i The keen peddler comos sluirply forward from a background of Provincial shifilessness and dullness, and it is a mark of the geniality of the book that, although it seems to have had its origin in a desire on the part of its ailthor to goad the Provinces into energy and alertness, the local questions and politics discussed jjive a flavor to the narrative without lini- itinsf the reader's interest. One does not need to be » deeply concerned in Nova Scotia prosperity, nor versed in the turnings of petty politics, to take a lively pleasure in the sharp thrusts which the author, under shield of the Clockniaker's wit, gives at stu- pidity and narrowness. The two sides of the ques- tion involved are as little a matter of concern to the general reader as the opposing factions of York and Lancaster. No doubt the marked contrast bet»veen the nei horse — the thought I, it 1 if you desire faster, faster, iself; he had so well. lerable smart ?side me, and lorse passing a one on ray settled in mv ' impertinent ide was hurt, } this trottingf refore, before .'tty consider- rotter too, I confess mine Is cut me to y iTo-/- ^^.->!^ 1 ^1 THE TRorriNG HOUSE. 4 the heart. Wliat! is it coiuo to tliis. poor ^loh.iwk, that yon, the admiration of :iit Ijiit tliu t'livioiis, the great Moliawiv, tlu; staiulanl by wiiii-ii all otiitT horses arc fiieasured — trots next to ]Molia\vk, or.iy yields to Moliawk, l()o]avel with him to Fort Lawrence, the limit of his circuit. CriAPTER II. THE CI.OCKMAKER. I HAD heard of Yankee clock peddlers, tin ped- dlers, and Bible peddlers, especially of him who sold Polyglot Bibles {all in English) to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. Tlie house of every substantial farmer had three substantial ornaments : a wooden clock, a tin rcilector, and a Polyglot Bible. How is it that an Americin can sell his wares, at whatever price he pleases, wliere a Blue- nose would fail to make a sale at all ? I will in- quire of the Clockmaker the secret of his success. "What a pity it is, IMr. 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 time." " 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. Thev do nothinij in these parts but eat, drink, smoke, sleep, ride about, lounge at taverns, make speeches at temperance meetings, :3l w tin ped- um who amount of every laments : Polyglot sell his a Blue- will in- ccess. uch was lat you, ople the lem the ring to year-old minutes in these , lounge leetings, THE CLOCKMAKER. 9 and talk about * House of Assembly.' If a man don't hoe his corn, and he don't get a crop, he says it is owing to the bank ; and if he runs into debt and is sued, why, he says the lawyers are a curse to the country. Tliey are a most idle set of folks, I tell you." " But how is it," said I, *' that you manage to sell such an immense number of clocks, which cer^^ainly 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 tone, — " Whv, I don't care if 1 do tell vou, for the mar- ket is glutted, and I shall quit this circuit. It is done by a knowledge of soft sawder and human na- tur\ But here is Deacon Flint's," said he ; '' I have but one clock left, and I (^uess I will sell it to him." At the gate of a uiost comfortable looking farm- house stood Deacon Flint, a respectable old man, who had understood the value of tin \ better than most of his neighbors, if one might judge from the appearance of everything about him. After the usiial salutation, an invitation to "alight" was ac- cepted by Mr. Slick, who said he wished to take leave of Mrs. Flint before he left Colchester. We had hardly entered the house, before the Clockmaker pointed to the view from the window, and, addressing himself to me, said, " If I was to tell them in Connecticut there was such a farm as this 10 THE CLOCKMAKER. away down East here in Nova Scotia, they wouldn't believe me. Wliy, 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 eulogiuui, seemed to wish the experiment of the raun*od to be tried in the right place. " Well, interval, if you please — though Professoi Eleazer Cumstick, in his work on Ohio, calls theui bottoms — is just as good as dyke. Then there is that water privilege, worth three or four thousand dollars, twice as good as what Governor Cass paid fifteen thousand dollars for. I wonder, Deacon, you don't put up a carding mill 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, nowadays ; you are young enough to have " — here he said something 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 *"hink of such things now. " But your beasts, dear me, your beasts must be 5 *> 1 '4j . MS. 4 % :? t THE CLOCKMAKER. 11 wouldn't II in all cres of le deep though to wish in the ^ofessoi s theui tliere is lOiis: nd ss paid ;on, you 3 works :hine, a 11 those II ; why we see, — here I'hich I as, the did not lust be 4 % i i 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 under- tone, " That is what 1 call ' soft saivder.^ An English- man would pass that man as a sheep passes a hog in a pasture, without looking at him ; or," said he, looking" ratlier archlv, "if he was mounted on a pretty smart horse, 1 guess he'd trot away, if he could. Now I find " — Here his lecture on " soft sawder" was cut shoit by the entrance of Mrs Flint *" Jist come to say good-by, Mrs. Flint." *' What, have you sold all your clocks?" " Yes, and very low too, for money is scarce, and I wish to close the consarn ; no, I am wronj; in savingf all. for I have just one left. Neighbor Steel's wife asked to have the refusal of it, but I guess I won't sell it ; 1 had but two of them, this one and the feller of it, that I sold Governor Lincoln. General Green, the Secretary of State for Maine, said he'd give me fifty dollars for this here one — it has composition wheels and patent axles, is a beautiful article, a real first chop, no mistake, genuine superfine — but 1 guess I'll take it back ; and besides, Squire Hawk might think kinder hard, that I did not give him the offer." *• Dear me ! " said Mrs. Flint, " I should like to see i ; where is it ? " *' It is in a chest of mine over the way, at Tom 12 THE CLOCKMARER. Tape's store. I guess he can ship it on to East* port." " That's a good man," said Mrs. Flint, "jist let's ook at it." .]\Ir. Slick, willinfT to oblige, yielded to these en- ireaties, and soon produced the clock, — a gaudy, nighly varnish.ed, trumpery looking affair. He placed it on the chimney-piece, where its beauties were pointed out and duly aj^preciated by Mrs. Flint, whose admiration was about ending in 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 sorrv, but he had no occasion for a clock. "I (juess you're in the wronu furrow this time, Deacon, it ain't for sale," said Mr. Slick : *' and if it was, I reckon neighbor Steel's wife would have it, for she gave me no peace ai)out it." Mrs. Flint said that Mr. Steel had enough to do, poor man, to pay his interest, without buying clocks for his wife. " It is no consarn of mine," said Mr. Slick, " as kng 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 make at Rhode Tshmd under forty dollars. Why, it ain't possible," said the Clockmake?, 11 appanmt surprise, lo(,»king at his watch, "why as I'm alive it is four o'clock, and if I haven't been two 'Kours here. How on airth shall \ reach River Philip I I i :»: THE CLOCKMAKER. 18 '■k ■f to-niglit? I'll tell you what, Mrs. Flint, I'll leave the clock in your cure till I return, on my way to the States. I'll set it a going, and put it to the rii*|^ CHAPTER 111. THE SILENT GIULS. " Do you see them 'ere swallows," said the Clock- maker, " how low thev fly ? AVoll, I presume we shall have rain right away ; and thein noisy crit- ters, them gulls, how close they keep to the water, down there in the Shubenacadie ; well that's a sure si^^n. If we study natur', we don't want no thermom- eter. But I euess we shall be in time to j^et under cover in a shingle-maker's shed, about three miles ah^ead on us." We had just reached the deserted hovel, when the rain fell in torrents. " I reckon," said the Clockniaker, as he sat him- self down on a bundle of shingles, "I reckon they are bad olT 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 neighborhood 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 consarn, must be built a purpose ; you can no more I I I I THE SILENT GIRLS. 15 make a good tavern out of a common dwelling house, I expect, than a good coat out of an old pair of trousers. Tliey are eternal lazy, you may depend. Now there inight 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 spec- ulation 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 consider- ably well peopled, with folics that are good marks ; and if there is no real right down good preacher among them, we build a handsome church, touched off like a New York liner, a real takinsf looking thing, and then we look out for a preacher, a crack man, a regular 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 real good investment. There were few better specs among us than inns and churches, until the railroads came on the carpet; as soon as the nor- elty of the new preacher wears off we hire another, a.id that keeps up the steam." " I trust it will be long, very long, my friend," said I, " er*^ the rage for speculation introduces * the Mioney-changers into the Temple,' with us." I 16 THE CLOCKMAKER. INIr. Slick looked at me with a most ineffable ex- pression of pity and surprise. " Depend on it, sir," said he, with a most philosophical air, ''this Prov- ince is much behind tiie 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 natural privileges as this. Why, there are twice as many harbors and water powers hero, as we have all the way from Eastport to New Ovleens. They have all they can ax, and more than they desarve. They have iron, coal, s^ate, grindstone, lime, fire-stone, gypsum, free- stone, and a list as lon^x as an auctioneer's catalojjue. But they are either asleep, or stone blind to them. Their shores are crowded witli 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 ^,o tell the citizens of our country that these dykes nad been cropped for a hundred years without manure, they'd say, they guessed you had seen Col. Crockett, the greatest hand at a flam in our nation. You have heerd tell of a man who couldn't see Lon- don for the houses ? I tell you, if we had this country, you couldn't see the harbors for the ' hipping. 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 door-way, and a man has to take a running leap over tbeir heads, afore he can get in I THE SILENT GIRLS. 17 A little nigger boy in New York found a diamond worth two thousand dollars; well, ue sold it to a watchmaker for filty cents; the little critter didn't know no better. Your people are just like the nigger boy, — they don't know the value 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 Bluenoses 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 were at the factories at Lowell we'd show you a wonder — five hundred oals at work toofether all in silence. I don't think our great country has such a real natural curiosity as that ; I expect the world don't contain the beat of that ; for a woman's tongue goes so slick of itself, without water power or steam, and moves BO easy on its hinges, that it's no easy matter to put a spring-stop on it, I tell you ; it comes as natural as drinkin' mint julip. " I don't pretend to say the gals don't nullify the rule, sometimes, at intermission and arter hours, but when they do, if they don't let go, then it's a pity. You have heerd a school come out, of little boys ? Ajord, 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 at work, all's as still as sleep and no snoring. I guess we have a ^ght to brag o' that invention ; we trained the dear ii i 1: f' / I' ■" i i '■ 18 THE CLOCKMAKER. critters so they don't tliink of striking the niinutea ana seconds no longer. *' Now the folks of Halifax take it all out in talk- ing. They talk of steanilioats, whalers, and rail- roads; but they all end where they begin — in talk. I don't think I'd be out in inv latitude if I was to say they beat the wonienkind at that. One fellow says, ' I talk of going to England ; ' another says, ' I talk of going to the country; ' while a third says, ' I talk of going to sleep.' If we happen to speak of such things, we say, 'Tin right off down East,' or * I'm away off South,' and away we go jist like a streak of liirlUninir. *' When we want folks to talk, we pay 'em for it, such as ministers, lawyers, and members of Con- gress ; but then we expect the use of their tojigues, 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' natural to the people of this Province, no more than it Joes to a full bred horse. I expect they think they have a little too 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 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 Vicksburg gam- blers. Their maxim is. and not a bad one neither, J ^uess, ' No work, no honey.' " CHAPTER IV. CONVERSATIONS AT THE UIVEIl PHILIP. It was late before we arrived at Puirnose's inn ; the evening was cool, and a fire was cheering 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 dyspepsia. 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 in the States ? " 1 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 tell you ; King Wil- liam, number four, 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 vour House of Commons, i reckon he'd make some of your great folks look ()retty streaked ; he's a true patriot and statesman, % Jill Ml t20 THE CLOCKMAKEIl. tilt; first in our country, and a most particular cute luwytT. Tin re was a QuakiT chap too cuto for him once thoui^h. Tliis (Quaker, a pretty knowin' old shaver, had a cause down to Rhode Ishnul ; so he went to Daniel to hire him to go down and pleaa his case for him ; so says he, ' Lawyer Webster what's your fee ? ' ' Why,' says Daniel, ' let me see I have to '^n down South to Washington, to plead the great insurance case of tiie Hartford Company — and I've got to be at Cincimiati to attend the Omvention, and I don't see how I can go to Rhode Island witiiout great loss and great fatigue ; it would cost you may be more than you'd be willing 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? * Wl'.y,' says Daniel, 'I always liked the Quakers, they are a quiet, peaceable people who never go to law if they can helj) it, and it vould 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 going tho whole figure for Gineral Jackson, and that everlasting, almijihtv villain. Van Huren ; yes, 1 love the Quakers, I hope they'll go the Web. ster ticket yet ; and I'll go for you as low as I can any way afford, say — one thousand dollars.' The Quaker well """b fainted when he heard i I J liar cute for him rvln' old 1 ; so he id j)l('a(\ iVebster nie see ;o plojid iompaiiy end the ) Rhode H would lling to )oiit the Duld not ike this ide bold d take? Jiiakers, er go to etter for eople in \ in 'em Fackson, Biiren ; le Web- as I can e heerd i ::0NVKRSAT10NS AT THE RIVER PHILIP. 21 this, but he was pretty deep too; so says he, ' Law- yer, that's a great deal of money, l)ut I havo more causes there; if I liive vou the one tliousand dollars will you plead the other cases 1 shall have to give you ? ' * Yes,' says Daniel, • I will to the best of my humble abilities.* So down they went to Khoile Isl'fud, and Daniel tried the case and cariied it lor the Quaker. VV^ell, the Quaker he goes round to all the folks that had suits in court, and says he, ' What will you give me if 1 get the great Daniel to plead for you ? It cost me one thousand dollars ibr a fee, but now he and 1 are pretty thick, and as he is on the spot, I'll get him to plead cheap for you.' So he got three hundred dollars from one, and two from another, and so on, until he got eleven hundred dol- lars, jist one hundred dollars more than he gave. Daniel was in a great rage when he heerd this. 'What!* said he, 'do you think 1 would agree to your lettinji me out like a horse to hire ? ' ' Friend Dan- iel,' 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.' Daniel 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 eime, for you have fairly pinned me up in a corner of the fence anyhow.' So he went good humoredly o work and pleaded them all. " This lazy fellow, Puguose," continued the Clock- Tiaker, " that keeps this inn, is goir.g to sell off and 3 i I 22 THE CLOCKMAKER, go to the States; he says lie lias to work too hard here ; that tlie markets are dull, and the winters too lone books with him in his gig, with 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 form, and com- manded silence. Takin"- out nlonolist of causes, Mr. Pettifoij com- nienced reading the names : " James Sharp versus John Sluir — call John SIult." John Shiij beinix duly called and not answering, was defiulted. Jn this manner he proceeded to default some 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 vou." '' Commit nie, is it?'' said Denni':, " take care then, Squire, vou don't commit vourself." "You are sued by William Hare for three pounds 'or a month's board and lodging; what have you t(7 Bay to it ? " " Say to it? " said Dennis, " did vou ever hear whal li JUSTICE PETTIFOG. 27 ;ii '11, at Tim Doyle said wlien he was going 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 J wouldn't.' So I'll take warning by Tim Doyle's iate ; I say nothing, — let hitn prove it." Here Mr. Hare was called on for his proof, but taking it for granted that the board would be admitted, and the defense opened, he was not prepared with proof. "• I demand," said Dennis, " I demand an unsuit." Here there was a consultation between the Justice and the ])laintiff, when the Justice said, ''I shall not nonsuit him, 1 shall continue the cause." "• What, hang it up till next court? You had better hang me \\\) then at once, ilow can a poor man come here so often ? This may be the entertainment Puo-- nose advertises for horses, but by Jacquers, it is no entertainment for me. I admit then, sooner than coht," answered the witness. "And what is that worth ? " "1 don't know." '' You don't know? Faith, I believe you're right," said Dennis, " for if the children are half as big rogues •B the faither, they mijght leave writing a^one, or V '^ f I:. 28 THE CLOCK MAKE II. they'd be like to be hanoed for fbioery." Here Dennis ])roduced his account for teaching five chil- dren, two qnaiters, at nine shillings a quarter each, £4 10s. '•! am sorry, Mr. O'Hrien," said the Jus- tice, " very sorry, but your defense will not avail you ; your account is too large for one Justice ; any Bum over three pounds must be sued before two manificant and humble bow to the Justice. Here there was a oeneral laui^h throughout the court. Denni- retired to the next room to itulenniify himself by another glass of grog, and vent' no his abuse aoainst Hare and the maois- trate. Disgusted at the gross partiality of the Jus- tice, 1 also quitted the court, fully concurring in the opinion, though not in the language, that Dennis was ijivinor utterance to in the bar-room. Pettifog owed his elevation to his interest at an election. Il is to be hoped that his subsequent merits will be as promptly rewarded, by his dis- .nissal from a bench which he disgraces and defiles bj his presence. (I CHAPTER VI. i:i ANECDOTES. As we mounted our horses to proceed to Am- herst, groups of country people were to be seen standing about Pugnose's inn, talkinsr over the events of the morning, while others were dispersing to their several homes. " A pretty prime, superfine scoundrel, that Petti- fog," said the Clockmaker: "lie and his constable are well mated ; and they've travelled in the same orear so lonjj together, tliat thev make about as nice a voke of rascals as voall meet in a dav's ride. They pull together like one rope reeved through two blocks. That 'ere constable was e'enamost strangled t'other day ; and if he hadn't had a little grain more wit than his master, I guess he'd had his windpipe stopped as tight as a bladder. There is an outlaw of a feller here, for all the world like one of our Kentucky squatters, one Bill Smith — a critter thrt neither fears man nor devil. Sheriff ^nd constable can make no hand of him ; they can't catch him no how ; and if they do come up mth him, he slips through their fingers like an eel ! !l n V: 80 THE CLOCK MAKER. and tlioii, he goes armed, and he can knock the eye out of a squirrel with a hall, at fifty yards hund runnino, — a regular ugly customer. " Well, Nahh, the constahle, had a writ agin him, and he was ciphering a good while how he should catch him ; at last he hit on a plan that he thought was pretty clever, and he schemed for a chance to try it. So one day he heerd that liill was up at Pugnose's inn, a settling some husiness, and was likely to he there all night. Nabh waits till it was considerable late in the eveninix, and then he takes his horse and rides down to the inn. and hitches his beast behind the haystack. Then he crawls up to the window and peeps in, and watches there till Bill should fjo to bed, thinkinix the best way to catch them 'ere sort of animals is to catch them asleep. Well, he kept Nabb a waiting outside so long, with his talking and singing, that lie well nigh fell asleep first himself. At last l^ill began to strip for bed. First, he takes out a long pocket pistol, examines the priming, and lays it down on the table near the head of the bed. *• When Nabi) sees this, he begins to creep like all over, and feel kinder ugly, and rather sick of his job; but when he seed hiin jump into bed, and heerd him snore out a noise like a man driving pigs to market, he plucked up courage, and thought he might do it easy arter all if he was to open the door soltl) and make one spring on him afore he could Urake. So round he goes, lifts up the latch of his ANECDOTES. 81 door as soft as soap, and makes a jmnp right atop of him, as he lay on the bed. ' I guess I got you this time,' said Nabb. ' I guess so too,' said liill, ' but I wish you wouldn't lay so plaguy heavy on nie ; jist turn over, that's a good fellow, will you?' With that, Bill lays his arm on him to raise him up, for he said he was squeezed as Hat as a pancake ; and afore Nabb knew where he was, Bill rolled him right over, and was atop of him. Then he seized him by the throat, and twisted his pipe till his eyes were as bi, .-;t, V'/^- r/, .-i::^' r: 1 I Pi 1 4» I 4 i i ■ ANECDOTES. 83 farm liere, a very fiiui farni indood ; you have a large ox too, a very large ox ; and 1 thifdtarn down first, and his head I 36 THE CLOCKMAKER. uild find as good after. I wisli the Bluenoses excuse in their rumps for running backwards as he has. But the bear 'ciphers ; ' he '.nows how many pounds his hanis weii^h, and he 'calculates' if he carried tiiem up in the air, they might be top heavy for him. " Jf we had this Province we'd go to work and cipher ' right off. Halifax is nothing without a river or back country; add nothing to nothing-, and I iruess vou have nothinjx still ; add a railroad to the Bay of Fundy, and how much do you git? That requires ciphering. It will cost three hundred thousand dollars, or seventy-five thousand pounds vour .'^lonev; add for notions omitted in the addi- tion column, one third, and it makes it even monev, one hundr(id thousand ])ounds ; interest at five per cent., live thousand pounds a year. Now turn over the slate, and count up freight. I make it upwards of twenty 'five thousimd pounds a year. If I had you at the desk, I'd show you a bill of items. Now comes 'sul)tracti()n ; ' deduct cost of engines, wear and tear and expenses, and what not, and reduce it for shortness down to five thor.sand pounds a year, the amount of interest, Wliat figures have you got now ? You have an investment that pays interest, I guess, and if it don't ])ay more, then I don't know chalk from cheese. But suppose it don't, and that it only yields two atid a lialf i)er cent, (and it requires good ci))hering, I tell you, to say how it would act with folks that like going astarn better than going •I •;- 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 manv kurnels, and will multiply itself thus: four times one is four, and four times twenty-five is one hundred (you see all natur' ciphers, except the Bluenoses). Jist so, this ere railroarl will not, j)erhaps. beget other railroads, but it will beget a spirit of enterprise, that will beget other useful improvements. It will enlarge GO AHEAD. 39 the sphere and the meuns 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 iio 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 be- fore he was reined up. When I overtook him, the Clockmaker said, '• This old Yaidiee horse, you see, understan.ls our word 'go ahead' better nor these Blue noses. '* What is it,'' he continued, '•' ivhat is it that ^ fet- ters ' the heels of a young country, and hangs like ' a poke ' around its neck ? ivhat retards the cultivation of its soil, and the improvement of its fisheries ? The high price of labor, I guess. Well, ivhat's a railroad? The substitution of mechanical for human and ani- mal labor, on a scale as grand as our great country. Labor is dear in America, and cheap in Europe. A railroad, therefore, is comporatirely no manner of use to them, to what it is to us ; it does loonders therCj hut it works miracles here. There it makes the old man younger, but here it makes the child a giant. To us it is river, bridge, road, and canal, all in one. It taves what ive haint got to spare. ?nen, horses, caris, vessels, barges, and what's nil in all — time. * ;i '■' -H dO THE CL CKMA KER. " Since the creation of the Universe, I giies^ ^> the cfeiitest invention, arter man. Now tliis is wnat I call ' ciplierin. It was his way." '* Then his way was so plaguy rough," continued ihe Clockmaker, " that he'd been the better if it had 4 Ik I il 50 THE CLOCKMAKER. ir been hammered and mauled down smoother. I'd a leveled him flat as a floiiiulor." ** Prav what was his olleiise ? " said I. " I>ad enouj^h, y(Ui may di'pend. The Tloii'ble Alden Gobble was dyspeptic, and he sulTered great otieasiness artor eatin', so he goes to Abernethy for advice. ' Wiiat's the matter with vou ? ' said the Doctor — jist that way, without even passing the time o' day with him — 'what's the matter with you?' said he. 'Why,' says Alden, 'I presume J have the dyspopsy.' ' Ah ! ' said he, ' I see ; a Yan- kee swaHowed more dollars and cents than he can digest.' ' I am an American citizen,' savs Alden, with groat dignity; ' I am Secretary to our Legation at the Court of St. James.' 'The devil you are,' said Abernethy; ' tlien you will soon get rid of your dyspepsy.' ' I don't see that 'ere inference,' said Alden, ' it don't follow from what you predicate at all ; t ain't a natural consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be ill, because he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened peo[)le to fill an im- portant office/ (Tlie truth is, you could no more trap Alden than you coiild an Indian. lie could see other folks' trail, and made none himself: he was a real diplomatist, and I believe our diploma- tists are allowed to be the best in the world.) * Hut I tell you it does follow,' said the Doctor ; ' for in the compi'uy you'll iiave to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian.' *' It wi'.s an everlasting pity Alden contradicted I YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING. 51 him, for he broke out like one ravin' distracted mad. I'll be d — d,' said lie, ' if ever I saw a Yankee that didn't bolt his tbod whole like a boa constrictor. How the devil can yon expect, to digest food, that you neither take the trouble to dissect, nor time to insticate ? It's no wonder you lose your teeth, for vou never use them ; nor your digestion, for vou 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 stomachs as a Devonshire man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and fast as he can pitch it with a dung-fork, and drive off; and then you complain that such a load of conjpost is too heavy for you. Dyspepsy. eh ! in- fernal liuzzlinjx, vou mean. I'll tell vou what. IMr. Secretary of Legation, take half the time to eat that you do to drawl out your words, chew your food half as much as you do your filthy tobacco, and you'll be well in a month.' " ' I don't understand such lanfjuan^e,* said Alden (for he was fairly riled 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 vou professionallv. and not to be ' — . ' Don't understand ! ' said the Doctor, ' why it's plain English hut here, read my book ! ' and he phoved a book into his hands and left him in an in- stant, standincf alone in the middle of the room. " If the Hon'ble Alden Gobble had gone riirht »way and demanded his passport, and returned home- i li m •id. 1. i ^ : I! ^ III .1;. S ' ^2 THE CLOCKMAKER. mth the lefjation in one of our first class frigates (I ofuoss tlio Knfrlisli would as soon sco pison as one 0* them 'ere Serpents) to Wasliini^toii, the President and tlie people would have sustaiiu'd him in it, I guess, until an apology was olTered for tlu? insult to the nation. I jj^uess it it had heen me," said Mr. Slick, '' I'd a headed him afore he slipt out o' the door, and pinned him up a^in the wall, and mak(^ him bolt his words agin, as quick as he throw'd 'em up, for I never seed an EiiLilishman 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 vulijfar lan- guajjje, and I think." said I, " that your Secretary had just cause to b(; offended at such an ungen- tlemanlike attack, although he showed his good sense in treating it with the contempt it deserved." " It was plaguy lucky for the Doctor, I tell you, that he cut his stick as he did, and made himself scarc6^ for Alden was an ugly customer ; he'd a gi'n him a proper scalding; he'd a taken the bristles off his hide, as clean as the skin of a spring shote of a pig killed at Christmas." The Clockmaker was evidentlv excited by his own story, and to indemnify himself for these remarks on »ns coimtrvmen, he indulged for sometime in ridicul- mg the Xova Scotlans. '■ Do you see that 'ere flock of colts?" said he, as we passed one of those beautiful prairies that render the valleys of Nova Scotia so verdant and so fertile YANKEE EA TING AND HORSE FEEDING. 63 * well, I guess they keep too much of that 'ere stock. I heerd au Indian one day ax a tavern-keeper for Bonie runi. ' Why, Joe Spawdeeck,' said he, ' I reckon you have got too nuich already.* 'Too much of anything,' said Joe, ' is not good ; but too much rum is jist enough.' I guess these Bluenoscs think so about 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. Tiiey are like the drink of our Connecticut folks. At mowing time they use mo- lasses and water, — nasty stuff', only fit to catch flies ; it spiles good water and makes bad beer. No won- der the folks are poor. Look at them 'ere great 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 thev buv their bread from us : so we feed the asses, and they feed the horses. If I had them critters on that 'ere marsh, on a location of mine, I'd jist take my rifle and shoot every one on 'em, — the nasty, yo-nccked, cat-hannned, heavy-headed, flat-eared, crooked- shanked, lonii-leir^ed, narrow-chested, fiot>d-f<>r noth- in' brutes ; they ain't worth their keep one winter. I vow, 1 wish one of these Hluenoses, with his go to- •iieetin' clothes on, coat-tails pinned up behind like a leather blind of a sluiy, an old spur on one heel, and pipe stuck through his hat-band, mounted on one of these limber-timbered critters, that moves ita ) \ ?1 54 THE CLOCK MAKER hind legs like a hen scratchin' gravel, was sot down in Broadway, in N(;w York, for a siglit. Lord ! 1 think I hear the We.it Point cadets a larfin' at him. ' Who broiiiiht tiiat 'ere scarecrow out of str.iidin' corn and stuck him here?' ' I guess that 'ere citizen came from away down Kast, out of the \ )tcli of the White Mountains.' ' Here comes the cholera doctor, from Canada — not from Canada, I nucss, neither, for he don't look as if he had ever been among tiie 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 clothing, too, instead of buy- ing both. I vow I've larfcd afore now till I have fairly wet myself a cry in', to see one of these folks catch a horse : may be he has to go two or three miles of an arrand. Well, down he goes on the dyke, with a bridle in one iiand, and an old tin pan in another, full of oats, to catch his beast. First he goes to one flock of horses, and then to another, to see if he can find his own critter. At last he gets sight on him, and goes softly up to him, shakin' 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 last 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 Tantramer Marsli, leven miles good, over ditches, creeks, mire holes i YANKEE EATING AND HORSE FEEDING. 55 \ and flajT po!uls, and then they turn and take a fair chase for it back again, seven miles more. By tliis time, I piesume, thty are all pretty considerably well tirod, and Blueuose, he goes and gets up all the men folks in the neighborhood, and catches his beast, as they do a moose arter he is fairly run down ; so he runs fourteen miles, to ride two, because he is in a tarnation hurry. It's e'cnamost equal to eutin' soup with a fork, when you are short of time. It puts me in mind of catching birds by sprinkling salt on their tails ; it's only one horse a man car ride out of half a dozen, arter all. One has no shoes, t'other has a colt, one ain't broke, another has a sore back, while a fifth is so etarnal cunnin', all Cunn- berland coiildn't cat^h him, till winter drives him yp to the barn for food. " Most of them 'ere dyke marshes have what they call ' honey pots ' 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 these honey pots, and wavin' like a iiead of broom corn ; and sometimes you see two or three trapped there, e'enamost smothered, ever- lastin' tired, half swimmin', half wadin', like rats in a molasses cask. When they find 'em in that 'ere pickle, they go and get ropes, and tie 'em tight round their necks, and half hang 'em to make 'em ^oat, and then haul 'em out. Awful looking critters ,hey be, you may depend, when they do come out ; ^ti' J i i U THE CLOCKMAKEH. for all the world like half drowned kittens — all slinkev sliinev, with their ureat lonji tails ^hitid up like a swab of oakum di[)ped in tar. If they don't look foolish, it's a pity ! Well, they have to nurse these critters all winter, witii hot mashes, warm cov- ering, and what not, and when spring comes, they mostly die, and if they don't, they are never iio good arter. T w h w' i r,'l my heart halt uie horses in thj count- v* jv. barreled up in these here honey pots, and t.ien <■- uod be nt^ar about one half too many left for profit. Jisi » ^ok at one of these barnyards in the spring — half a dozen half-starved colts, with their hair hioking a thousand ways for Sunday, and their coats hangin' in tatt(>rs, and half a dozen good for>notiiin' old horses, a crowdiii' out the cows and sheep. " Can you wonder that people who keep such an wiprojitable stock, come out of the small eend of th$ horn in the long run f " V k ) I ll- \ jv^ CHAPTER X. THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART. — THE BROKEN HEART. As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Cloc;- maker grew uneasy. " It's pretty well on in the evening, I guess," raic! he, "and Mann Pugwash is as onsartain in er temper as a mornin' in Aj^ril ; it's all sunshine or ail ch)uds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums, she'll stretch out her neck and hiss, like a "oose with a flock of goslins. I wonder what on airth Puffwash was a thinkin' on, when he signed articles of partnership with that 'ere woman ; she's n(jt a bad-lookin' piece of furniture neither, rnd it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should carry sich a stiff' upper lip. She reminds me of our old minis' ter Joshua Hopewell's apple-trees. "The old minister had an orchard of most partic- ular good fruit, for he was a great hand at buddin', graftin*, and what not, aiul the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. Well, there were some tr'^es hung ovei V I . -I : ♦'I I! 58 THE CLOCKMAKER. the fence ; I ruiver seed such benrers ; the apples hung in ropes, — for all the world like strine of mamma." " Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. •* Sally, make a fire in the next room." '* She ought to be proud of you," he continued. '*Well, if 1 live to return here, I must paint youf •| TIIIC ROAD TO A \VO^tAN'S HEART, 61 face, and li.ive it put on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the s:ike of the face. Did vou ever ^ce," said he, a^ain addrcssini^ mo, "• such u likeness between om; human and anolher, as be- tween this beautiful little boy and his mother?" " 1 am sure yon have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash tome; "yon must be hungry, and weary too. I will get you a cup of tea." " 1 am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I. *' Not the least trouble in the world," she replied, "on the contrary, a pleasure." We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, and liuiiered behind me to ascertain his ajje, and con- eluded by asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mannna. As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, " It's a pity she don't go well in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to get them to start; arter that there is no trouble with them if you don't check 'em too short. If you do, they'll slop again, run back, and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the natur' of the critter ; she'll never go kind in harness \ir him. \Vi. n 1 see a child*' said the Clock maker, " / alwin/s feel safe ivt'th these women folk , for J have always found that the road to a woman*s \eart lies through her child" " You seem," said I, " to understand the fenmle 'if'; r» 62 THE CL CKMA KER. heart so well, I make no doubt you are a general favorite aiiionn the fair sex." " Any man," he replied, " that understands horses, has a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women ; for they are jist alike in temper, and require the very identical same treatment. Encojirage the timid ones, be (jentle and steady with the fractious., hut lather the svlhj ones like blazes. •' l*eople talk an everlasting sight of nonsense about wine, women, and horses. I've bougl:t and Sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I tell you, there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either on 'em. You hear folks say, O, such a man is an ugly graiiied critter, he'll break his wife's heart ; jist as if a wouian's heart was as brittle as a pipe stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is just like a new India rubber shoe; you may null and pull at it, till it stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back tc its old shape. Their hearts are made of BtoiiL leather, I tell you ; there's a nlaouv si«rht of wear in 'em. " 1 never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other sex, one AVashington Hanks. He was a sneezer, lie was tall enough to spit down on the heads of your grciadiers, and near about high enough to wade across Charleslown River, and as strong as a tow-boat. I guess he was somewhat less thart a foot longer than the moral law and catechisn* too. He was a perfect pictur' of a man ; vou cr Jdn't \ THE no AD TO A WOMAN'S HEART. 63 ^ fault liini in no particular; he was so just a made critter, folks used to run to the winder when he passed, and say, ' There »;oes Washinj^ton Banks, bean't he lovely ? ' T do believe there wasn't a <;al in the Lowell factories that warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at interuiission, on Sabbath days, when they all came out together (an amazin' hansum sij^ht too, near about a whole congregation of young gHls\ Banks used to say, ' I vow, young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with each of you ; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all ; it's a whapper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your service.' 'Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks,' half a thousand little clip- per-clapper tongues would say. all at the same time, and their dear little eyes sparklin', like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night. '" Well, when I last seed him, he was all skin and bone, like a horse turned out to die. He was teeto- tally defleshed, a mere wulkin' skeleton. ' I am dreadful sorry,' says I, ' to see you, 15anks, lookin' so peecked ; why, you look like a sick turkey hen, all legs ; what on airth ails you?' ' I am dyin','says he, ' of a broken heart.' ' What,' says I, ' have the gals been jiltin' you ?' 'No, no,' savs he, ' I bean't «»uch a fool as that neither.' ' Well,' says I, ' have you made a bad speculation ? ' ' No,' says he, shakin' his head, ' I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take on so bad for that.' * What under the sun IS it, then ? ' ' Why,' says he, ' I made a bet the fore ' .*; 1. 1 ■i • I. \ ' \, pi TnE CLOCKMAKER. part of siiiMiiiei' with Leftenant Oby Kiiowles, that I could blioiilder tlie best bower of the Coistitution fri«ijate. 1 won iny bet, but tho anchor was so eturnal heavy it brolce n»y hea^^,' Sure enough, he did die that very fall ; and he was the only instance I ever heerd tell of a broken heart." i I CHAPTER XI. CUMBERLAND OYSTERS PRODUCE MELANCHOLY FOREBODINGS. The soft sawder of the Clockmaker had operated effectually on the beauty of Amherst, our lovely hostess of Pugwash's inn : indeed, I am inclined to think with Mr. Slick, that '• The road to a woman's heart lies through her child," from the effect pror- duced upon her by the praisea bestowed on her in- fam boy. I was musing on this feminine susceptibility to flattery, when tl e door opened, and Mrs. Pug wash entered, dressed in her sweetest smiles and her besr cap, an auxiliary by no means required by hei charms, which, like an Italian sky, when unclouded, are unrivaled in splendor. Approaching me, she said, with an irresistible smile, " Would you like, Mr. " — Here there was a pause, a hiatus, evi- dently intended for me to fill up with my name ; but that no person kr»ows, nor do I intend they shall ; at Medley's Hotel, in Halifax, I was known as the Stranger in No. 1. The attention that incognito * 56 TnE CLOCKMAKElt procured for me, the importiince it gave me in thfl eyes of the master of the house, its h)clgers and servants, is indescribable. It is only great people who travel incoiacks ttud the Whites in the States show their teeth and a»*arl ; they are jist ready to fall to. The Protest* 38 THE CLOCKMAKEIl ants aiul Ciitholics bo«:in to Uiv buck their ears, and turn tail for kicUin.' Tlio Abolitionists and Planters r.re at it like; two bulls in a |)astur'. Mob-law and Lvncb-law are workinii like veast in a barrel, and frotbiiin at the bun^-bole. Nullification and Tariff an? like a cb >.rcoal pit, all covered up, but buinin<^ inside, and sending out smoke at cvciy crack, enonj^b to stifie a horse. Cieneral Government and State Government every now and then s(|uare orf nnd spar, and the first blow giv(Mi will bring a genuine set-to. Surplus Revenue is anoth(;r bone of con- tention ; like a shin of beef thrown among a pack of doiis, it will set the whole on 'em bv the ears. *' You have heerd tell of cotton rags dipped in tur|)entin(;, haven't you, how they produce combus- tion ? Well. I guess we have the elements of s[)on- taneous combustion among us in abundance ; when it does break out, if you don't see an eruption of hu- man gore worse than Ktna lava, then I'm mistaken. There'll be the very devil to pay, that's a f\ict. I exj)ect the blacks will butcher the Southern whites, and the Northerners will have to turn out and butcher them again ; and all this shoot, hang, cut. stab, and burn business will sweeten our folks' tem- per, as raw meat does that of a dog ; it fairly makes me sick to think 'Vi it. 'J'he explosion may clear the air again, and all be tranquil once more, but it's an even chance if it don't leave us the three steam- bop.l options, — to be blown sky-high, to be scalded to death, or drowned." CUMBERLAND OYSTERS. 69 ** If this sad picture you h:ive drawn bo indeed true to nature, how does your country." said I, "ap- pear so attrai'tive as to draw to it so hirge a portion of our population ?" '•It ain't its attraction," said the Clockinaker; " it's nothin' but its power of" suction ; it is a ijjreat wliirlpool — a ^reat vortex: it drains all the straw and chips, and floating slicks, drill-wood, and trash into it. The small crafts are sucked in, and whirl round and round like a squirrel in the ca<^e — they'll never come out. Hiimer ones pass throui-h at certain times of tide, and can come in and out with <>()od pilotage, as they do at Ilell Gate up the Sound." " You astonish me," said I, '' bevond measure ; both your previous conversation with me ;iiid the concurrent testimony of all my friends \\l-^ have visited the States, jrivc; a different view of it." *' Fonr fn'en.f/s ! " said the Clockmaker, with such a tone of ineffable contempt that I felt a stroni;; in- clination to knock him down for his insolence, — *' your friends ! Knsi^iis and leftenants, I guess, from the Hriti^h marchin' regiments in the Colonies, that run over five thousand mil(!s of country in five weeks, on leave of absence, and then return, lookin' as wise as the monkey that had seen the world. When hev "et back thev are so chock full of knowledge rtf the Yaidvees that it runs over of itself; like a hogshead of molasses rolled about in hot weather, a »<^hite froth and scum bubbles out of the bung, — .'- 1 JO I III': CL t'KMA Ki:n. wishy-wasljy tmsh they oiiil tours, skelchos. travels, letters, and \vli;it not; vapid slul!', jist sweet enough to catcli flies, eoekroaelics, and halt'-lledm'd all mv fault, 1 dare sav, sare.* " Thinks 1 to mvself, a nod is as i^ood as a wink to a blind horse. I see how the cat jumps : minis- ter knows so many languages he hain't been partic- ular enough to keep 'em in separate parcels, and y CIJMBKIUA NI) O YS TERS. 71 mark 'em on the l)acU, aiul t-lioy'vc j^ot mixed ; and Bure enouijfh, I foi.>i(l my I'^hmu'Ii was so overrun witli otlier sorts, that it was hcltcr to lose the wiiole crop than ^o to wetnUn', for as fast as I pulh'd uj) anv strant to the East'ard, where there is a cross of the vScotch) jist ax me, and I'll tell you candidly. I'm not one of them that can't see no good points in my neii;hbor's critter, and no bad ones in my own ; I've stien too much of the world for that, I guess. Indeed, in a i;eneral way, 1 praise other IblUs' beasts, and keep dark about my own. Says I, when I meet Bluenose mounted, • That's a real smtu't horse ol your'n ; [)Ut him out, 1 guess he'll trot like mad.' "Well, he lets him have the spur, and the critter does his best, and then I pass him like a streak of lightning with mine. The feller looks all taken aback at that. ' VVliy,' says he, • that's a real clipper of your'n, I vow.' ' Middlin',' says I (quite cool, as il" I had heard that 'ere same thing a thou- sand times), 'he's good enough for me, jist a fair trotter, .md nothin' to brag of.' That goes near about as far iir'in in a general way, as a crackin' and a boastin' 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 CUMDEliLANU OYSTERS, 78 rhe Yankees — I've wintered tlieni and summered thetn ; I know all tliclr points, shape, make, and breed ; I've tried 'cm alongside of other folks, and I know where they fall short, wiiere they maU' 'cm, and where they have the advantaije, about as wt^il as some who think they know a plaguy sight more. It ain't them that stare the most, that si-e the best always, I jiiiess. Our folks have their faults, and I know them (I warn't born blind, I reckon), but your friends, the tour writers, are a licLle grain too haril on us. Our old nigger wenrh hud several dirty, ugly lookin' children, and was proper cross to 'em. Mother used to say, ' Juno, it's better never to wipe a child's nose at allj I guess, than to wring it off^ *' eal 1 ite i )U- 1 i lir 1 1 lUt 1 I a . i J on < ^fe IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (AAT-3) // Z 1.0 1.1 1.25 MUu lAO 12.5 2.0 L8 U ill 1.6 ^^ <^ ^ /2 7: y /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 <«NJ ,\ (V \\ ;\ O A W^ JS ^J^^ ^ t/j 6^ Cri AFTER XII. THE AMERICAN EAGLE. I- V "JiST look out of the door," said the Clockmaker " and see what a beautiful night it is, how calm, how Btill, how clear it is ; bcan't it lovely? I like to look up at them 'ere stars, wheu I am away from home ; they put me in mind of our natiotial 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 pretties sight I know of, is one of our first-class 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 em- blem that we chose, warn't it ? " There was no evading so direct, and at the same time so conceited an appeal as this. *• Certainly," said I, " the emblem was well chosen. I was par- ticular v struck with it on observiuii the device on your naval buttons during the last war — an eaj^le THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 75 with an anchor in its claws. That was a natural dea, taken from an ordinary occurrence : a hird purloinin*^ 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 judg- ment in the artist. The emblem is more appropri- ate than you are aware of: boasting of what you can not }>erf()rm ; grasping at w'hat you cannot attain ; an emblem of arrogance and weakness; of ill- directed ambition and vulgar pretension." " It's a common phrase," said he with great com- posure, " 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 'ere oath. It's a sore subject, that, I reckon, and I believe 1 hadn't ought to have spoken of it to you at all. Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is a better one." He was evidently annoyed, and with his usual dex- terity gave vent to his feelings by a sally upon the Hluenoses, who, he says, are a cross of English and Yankee, and therefore first cousins to us both. " Per- haps," said he, '• that 'ere Eagle might with more propriety have been taken off as perched on an anchor, instead of holding it in his claws, and I think it would have been more nateral ; but I suppose it was some stupid foreign artist that made that 'ere blunder — I never seed one vet that was equal to our'n. If that Eagle is represented as trying what ae can't do, it's an honorable ambition arter all ; bu< ?l iv; !!■; •I' n - '•.? It I 76 THE CLOCKMAKER. these Bliienoses won't try what they can do. They put me in mind of a great bii^ hulk of a horse in a cart, that won't put his shoulder to the collar at all for all the lambastiu' in the world, but turns his head round and looks at you, as much as to say, ' What an everlastin' heavy thing an empty cart is, isn't it ? ' An Owl should be their emblem, and the motto, " He sleeps all the dnf/s of his life.' The whole country is like this night ; beautiful to k)ok at, bu*: silent as the grave — still as death, asleep, becalmed. " If the sea was always calm," said he, " it would pison the univarse ; no soul could breathe the air, it would be so uncommon bad. Stagnant water is always oupleasant, 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 stag- nant ; it ain't deep like still water neither, for it's shaller enough, gracious knows, but it is motionless, noiseless, lifeless. If vou 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 everlastin' flappin' of the sails, and a creakin' of the booms, and an onsteady pitchiii' of the ship, and folks lyin' about dozin' aw.iy their time, and the sea a heavin' a long heavy swell, like the breathin' of the chist of some Ijreat 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's any chance of a breeze, and says to himself IS, j ! '11 THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 77 Well, if this ain't dull music, it's a pity.* Then how streaked he feels when he sees a steamboat 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 to home. ' Well,' he says, ' if iiny soul ever catches me on board a sail vessel airain, when I can i^o by steam, I'll give him leave to tell me of it, that's a fact.' '' That's jiartly the case here They are becalmed, and they see us going ahead on them, till we are e'enamost ou^ of sight ; yet they hain't got a steam- boat, and they hain't got a railroad; indeed, I doubt if one half on 'em ever seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them. I never seed any folks like 'em except the Indians, and they won't even so much as look ; they haven't the least morsel of curiosiry in the world ; from which one of our Unitarian preach- ers (they are drepdful hands at doiibtin\ them, — I don't doubt but some day or another, they will doubt whether everything ain't a doubt), in a very learned work, doubts whether they were ever descended from Yj\q at all. Old marm Eve/s children, he says, are all lost, it is said, in conseouence of too much curiosity, while these co[)per-(,o]ored 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- uoses have no motion in 'em, no enterprise, no spirit, and if any critter shjws any symptoms of ac- vivity, they say he is a man of no judgment, he's ri' ^^^ ' II m f. I .i i\ f ' THE CL CKMA KER. Bpeci'Iative, he's a sclienicr, in short, lie's mad. They vegetate like a lettuce plant in a snrce garden, — they grow tall and spindlin', run to seed right off, grow as bitter as gall, and die. " A cal once caine to our minister to hire as a house help ; says she, ' Minister, I snpjxjse you don't want a youn- silk-worms. * My pretty maiden,' says he, a pattin' her on the cheek (for I've often observed old men always talk kinder pleasant to women), * my pretty maiden, where was you brought up?' * Why,' says she* I guess I warn't brought at all, 1 growed u[).' 'Under what platform,' sa}s he (for he was very particular that all his house helps should go to his meetin'), * under what church platform ? ' ' Church platform ! ' says she, with a toss of her head, like a young colt that 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 growed up, dear, for you have grown up in great ignorance.' ' Then I guess you had better get a lady that knows more than me,' says she, ' that's flat. 1 reckon 1 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 tc know who does, that's all ; church platform, indeed ! (A ft 1 SI 15 ii'l THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 79 says she ; ' T guess you were raised under a glass frame in March, and transplanted on Independence Day, warn't you ? ' And oft' she sot, lookin' as scorney as a London lady, and leavin' the poor min- ister standin' starin' liiie a stuck pig. ' Well, well,' says he, liftin' up both hands, and turnin' up the whites of his eyes like a duck in thunder, ' if that don't bang the busii I It fcarly beats sh-^ep shearin' after the blackberry bushes have got t' ; wool. It does, I vow ; them are the tares them jnitarians sow in our orain fields at nii^ht; I r be lo- cated back of Canada; they can hold on there a few years, until the wave of civilization reaches them, and then they must move ajjjain as the savages do. It is decreed ; I hear the bugle of destiny a soundin' of their retreat, as plain as anything. Conjjress will cive them a concession of land, if they petition, away to Alleghany's backside territory, and grant them relief for a few years ; for we are out of debt, and don't know what to do with our surplus revenue. The only way to shame them, that I know, would be to sarve them as Uncle Enoch sarved a neighbor of his in Varginny. " There was a lady that had a plantation near hand to his'n, and there was only a small river atwixt the two houses, so that folks could hear each other talk across it. Well, she was a dreadful cross- grained woman, a real catatnount, as savage as a she-bear that has cubs ; an old farrow critter, as Mgly as sin, and one that both hooked and kicked 100 — a most particular onmarciful she-devil, that's a fact. She used to have some of her nijiiiers tied up every day, and flogged uncommon severe, and their screams and screeches were horrid — no soul could stand it ; nothin' was heerd all day but ' C THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 81 Ijord Missus ! Lord Missus ! ' Enocli was fairly sick of the soiiiul, for he was a teiichn'-iiearted man, and savs ho to her oiio dav, ' Now do, niann, fma out some other phice to <;ive \onr cattle the cow- skin, for it worries me to hear 'em take on so dread- ful bad ; I can't stand it, I vow ; they are flesh and blood as well as we he, thouj^h the meat is a differ- ent color.' But it was no good ; she jist up and told him to mind his own business, and she guessed she'd mind her'n. lie was determined to shiuiie her out of it ; so one mornin' arter breakfast he goes into the cane field, and says he t-^ Lavender, one of the black overseers, ' Muster up the whole gang of slaves, every soul, and bring 'em down to the whip- pin' post, the whole stock of them, bulls, cows, and calves.' Well, away goes Lavender, and drives up all the niggers. ' Now you catch it,' says he, ' you lazy villains ; I tole you so many a time — I tole you massa he lose all patience wid you, you good for- nothin' rascals. I grad, upon my soul, I werry grad ; you mind now what old Lavender say anoder time.' 'I'he black overseers are always the most cruel,'* said the Clockmaker ; '' they have no sort of feeling for their own people. " Well, when they were gathered there according to orders, they looked streaked enough you may de- pend, thinkin' they were going to get it all round; and the wenches they fell to a cryin', wringin* their hands, and boo-hooing like mad. Lavender was there with his cowskin, grinnin' 'ike a chessy cat, and 6 'II w " h \: 5 ' 11 *il:3 ; , ,is r 82 THE CLOCKMA KER. k !! crackin' it about, ready for business. ' Pick me out,' says Enoch, 'four that have the loudest voices. 'Hard matter dat,' says Lavender, 'hard matter dat^ niassa ; dey all talk loud, dey all lub talk more bet- ter nor work — de idle villains ; better *^ib 'em all a little tickle, jist to teach 'em to larf on t'other side of he mouf; dat side bran new, dey never use it yet.' ' Do as I order you, sir/ said Uncle, 'or I'M have you triced up, yon cruel old rascal you.' When they were picked out and sot by themselves, they hanged tiieir heads, and looked like sheep going to the shambles. ' Now,' says Uncle Enoch, ' my pick- aninnies, do you sing out as loud as Niagara, at the very tip eend of your voice — ' *' Don't kill a nijjjger, pniy, Let liim lib aiioder day. 1.01(1 Mis«us — Lord Missus! ' *' My back be \ ery sore, No stand it any more. Lord Missus — O Lord Missus! " And all the rest of you join chorus, as loud as you can bawl, '' O Lord Missus." ' The black rascals un- derstood the joke real well. They larfed ready to split their sides ; they fairly lay down on the ground, and rolled over and over with lafter. Well, when they came to the chorus, ' O Lord Missus,' if they didn't let go, it's a pity. They made the river ring ftg'in — 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 THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 88 ihey thought there was actilly n rebt'llion there ; but when they listened avvliile, and heerd it over and over again, the/ took tiie hint, and returned a hufin' in thi'ir sleeves. Says they, ' Master luioch Slick, he upsides with Missus this hitch anyhow.' Uncle never he(;rd anything more of ' O Lord Missus,' after Ihat. Yes, they ought to be shamed out of it, those llluenoses. When reason fails to conviiice, there is nothin' left but ridicule. If they have no ambition, ai)ply to their feelings, clap a blister on their pride, and it will do the business. It's like a puttin' gin- ger under a horse's tail ; it makes him carry up real handswm, I tell you. When I was a boy, I was al- ways late to school ; well, father's preachin' I didn't mind much, but I never could bear to hear my mother sry, 'Why Sam, are you actilly up for all day? W 11, I hope your airly risin' won't hurt you, I declare. What on lirth is a goln' to happen now ? Well, wonders will never cease.' It raised my dan- der ; at last says I, ' Now, mother, don't say that ere any more for gracious' sake, for it makes me feel ngly, 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, — An early start rnak^s easy stages'^ ■Mi 1 -M CIIArTEll XIII. THE CLOCKMAKKUS OlMNION OF HALIFAX. u The next morning was warmer than several that had preceded it. It was oik* of tliose uncommonly fine days that distin^uisli an American iuilumn. '' I guess," said Mr. Slick, '" tiie heat to-day is like a glass of mint jtilip, with a hiiup of ice in it ; it tastes cool, and feels warm ; it's real good, I tell you. I love such a day as this, dearly. It's generally al- lowed the finest weather in the world is in America; there ain't the l)eat of it to be found anywhere." He then liiihted a ciijar, and throwini: himself back on his chair, put both feet out of tlie 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 rni-: cr.ocKMAKEtvs or r sign. 85 sat L'SS. the the ray lire splendid Provinco, fvtid calculat(Ml to rtn nhoad. It will irrow as fast as a V!inj[i»'iiv "ritl ; and tlu'V iirow Ro ania/.in' fast, if yon put vonr arm round one of their nocks to kiss th(!in, by tin; time you're done, they've jrrown up into wonu'H. It's a f)r('tty Prov- ince I tell you, ^ood ai)ove and better below ; sur- face covered with pastures, meadows, woods, and a 'nation sijjjht of waicr privilejjes, and under the ground full of mines. It puts me in mind of the soup at the 7'/'e<'-mont House. "One day I was a walkin' in the INIall, and who should I meet but INInjor Bradford, a gentleman from Connecticut, that traded in calves and pump- kins for the Boston market. Says he, ' Slick, where do you get your grub to-day ? ' 'At General Peep's tavern,' says I. 'Oidy 'fit for niggers,' says he; 'why don't you come to the 7\ec-\\\o\\t House? that's the most splendid thing, it's generally allowed, in all the world.' ' AVHiy,' says I, 'that's a fiotch above my mark ; I guess it's too plaguy dear for me; I can't afford it nohow.' ' Well,' says he, 'it's dear in one sense, but it's dog cheap in another: it's a grand place for speculation. There's so mnny rich Southerners and strangers there that have more money than wit, that you might do a pretty good business there without ofoin' out of the street door. T made two hundred dollars this mornin' in little less ihan half no time. There's a Carolina lawyer there as rich as a bank, and savs he to me arter break- fast, *' Major," says he, " I wish I knew where to get (I ■ Hi f ''I 86 THE CLOCKMAKER. .ill ! Ill a real slapping trotter of a horse, one that could trot with a flash of lightning for a mile, and beat it by a whole neck or so." Says T, " My Lord," for you must know, he savs 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 raih'oad steamer, a real natural traveller, one tiiat 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 'ere nick- name, I don't like it," though he looked as tickled all the time as possible; "I never knew," says he, "a lord that warn'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 some- how I can't help a thinkin' if you have a good claim, you'd be lijore like a fool not to go ahead with it." " Well," says he, " lord or no lord, let's look at your horse." So away 1 went to Joe Brown's livery stable, at t'other eend of the city, and picked out the best trotter he had, and no fj^'^at stick to brag on either ; says T, " Joe Brown, what do you ax for that 'ere 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 h'm." So I shows our Carolina lord the horse, and when he "i'"g vet, dear.' WVII n,^i "'<"i t think so at -ill. oj ., * ■'^JJoebe ""-V bette.. no.. 1^, ' ^l^^t r''' •^"« «»'d she h,cl „o n«ti< „ ,n T '''" '""'- «''« ^he shot to Khode ;,; Tl '"""'^'- '^''-'- ' off ^he, 'Fathers too ode ^ f" "T"'- ^a.s '''e ease at fialirax. 1 e o d o l"" ,''""" J'^' - 'o" .v<".ng, the tin,e wi , e 11^"^ "'« -^""""-^ "le mean ti,„e the vo„.,„ fu "" °" ' "'"1 >" 0^ to tke State., ICl"^'' '!''''} ^-'^ -^^ -» r««. for LrtZ';SZ ""T '' ""'"■ ""^ ahead: ^ ^ on -^ keep movin' ^go ^^^,ZZ^^t-' "•^'■>. With «"', "darn it all it fm-lv , ' "^ •^'"^"^"'ff his «ee the nasty, id ^ '"^ ?""'^^ '"^ Zander rise, to "e critters; ^ J h fif;:-"""''-^---''"-",, do-iit- T'-ey ought to be q ted ! " '''"" "-^P' ^ ^°>-- "•'- a lady's ,ap!do" t ,e n'tt ''r' """" '^ --"' ^f;epthenUiL.i;;:;:-:^^;r'.oursada,. "Hush,hushr",„idj .J ^,^^- "Well," said he, res „.i, , ' ^''" ^"''S^'-" "well, U-s enough to n.ak "" '"'"" '^'""P— ' Clare, -isn't i,?» ""''"' ""^ ^«^«d "'ough, 1 d^ if THE CLOCKMAKER'S OPINION. 93 Mr. Slick lias often alluded to this subject, and al- ways in a most decided manner. I am inclined to think he is right. Mr. Howe's papers on the railroad I read, till 1 came to his calculations, but I never could read figures ; " I can't cipher," and there I paused ; it is a barrier ; I retreated a few paces, took a running leap, and cleared the whole of them. Mr. Slick says he has under and not over rated its advan- tages. He appears to be such a shrewd, observing, in- telligent man, and so perfectly at home on these sub- jects, that I confess I have more faith in this humble but eccentric Clockinaker than in any other man I have met with in this Province. I therefore pro- nounce, " T/iere wUc be a railroad.'^ 'iH: ire. CHAPTER XIV. SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN CUMBERLAND. \i) liifi: vi " I RECKON," said the Clockmuker. as we strolled through Amherst, " you have read Hook's story of the boy that one day asked one of his father's guests who his next door neiiihbor was, and vvhen he heerd his name, asked him if he wani't a fool. ' No, my little feller,' said he, ' he bean't a fool, he is a most particular sensible man : but wiiy did you ax that 'ere question ? ' ' Why.' said the little boy, ' mother said t'other day you were 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 heerd him run right slap on that 'ere breaker. " Now these Cumberland folks have curious next door neighbors, too ; they are placed by their loca tion right atwixt fire and water ; they have New Brunswick politics on one side, and Nova Scotia politics on t'other side of them, and Bay Fundy and Bay Varte on t'other two sides ; they are actilly in hot water ; they are up to their cruppers in politics, and great hands for talking of House of Assembly SAYINGS AiWD DOINGS IN CUMBERLAND. 95 Inext I oca [ew [otia land in [ics, political Unions, and what not. Like all folks who wade so deep, they can't always tell the natnr of the ford. Sometimes thev strike their shins agin a snajj of a rock ; at other times, they go whap into a qnick- sand, 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 rotation, and less of clec- tions^ more of them 'ere dykes, and less of banks, and attend more to top dressing, and less to re-dress- ing, it 'd be better for 'em." " Now you mention the subject, I think I have ob- served," said I, '' that there is a great change in your countrymen in that respeyt. 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 to home, and are sick of the subject. Tiiey are cured the way our pastry cooks cure their 'prentices of 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 'ere 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 steal- ing from a till. Well, that's sure to set him at it, just as a high fence does a breachy ox, first to look over it, and then push it down with its rump ; it's human natur.' Well, the boy eats and eats till he III 96 '''HE CLOCKMAKMR. cnn't eat no loruror nnr? ff,. , artcrivanls. ^ *'"'" "f sweetmeaty " '*^«"ve had politic, witi, „, ,:„ , , «"'. I tell ,o„. ,ie,i,,,, "' "" "'«'•'-' 'l"g sick of «^'-p''e-i"g t„ tell tl ..t T ''"'"V"'''^ " S'--'t deal of had .see,rit. ^ "everheerd tell of one who '' riie best nienihpi- T «♦ John Ad , AV 11 ,o|.r";;"'' '^^'-■'- '^'^^ -«^ P'o-'gh a .straight f .V; '^''?":-' ^"'"^ ■><> "-ore ''•'»" 'he plough 1 i, ::i7 I ^']'T "'"" ""^ ^o'"" «' hegi,„.v ,„, ^ litt, '4'\:;f -' ""t straight "ooked afore he got to the^'ee of Ti!'' ''"? '" «<=' »on.etn„e. he would have two o tif "l^"' '"'' I used to say to him ' ti '^^'^ '^'''o'^s in it -for he was no":,;';:-!";-" - '^ Mr. Ada,,, J P'-eside„tofo„r„,"T„'i 'f' "'""''' ''^ -a 'he greatest nation hrrw""; T^ " '^ "'"»'-'' '<> he «ee hin. son,e.i,neso?an „? ' ""' ^ ""• ^"" "■■ght with the boys in the Pot """" " "^""""■"' "'""g the way he larned to give the /.t ^"' """'^ ^Pry.^well I used to snv to r "'" '^"^^^ «« t. Mr. Adams. vo„ dn' ^ t ' ' ""^ "n airth is H«-as a g,;;^d hand r "'"■*'''' "'"'•'^ <"'"•" «cuse we,e seldon. .ood fo ' ' T f ^'""' "' '"' ilong SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN CUMBEliLAND. 97 tlirowed the plough out ; at otlior times he said the ofTox was such iiii ugly, wilinil tempered critter, there was no doiii' nothin' witli him ; or tluit tiiere was so much machinery al)out tlie nh)ugh, it made it plaguy hard to steer; or maybe it was the fault of them that went afore him, tiiat tliey 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 'ere excuses wouldn't do, why, he would take to scolding the nijiser that drove the team, throw all the blame on him, and order him to have an everlastin' lacin* with the cowskin. You might as well catch a weasel asleep as catch him. He had somethin' 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 atfectin'. 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 i..nowin^ as much as to say, ' You see it's all in my eye, Slick, but don't let on to any one about it, that I said so.' That eye was a regular cheat, a complete New P^ngland wooden nutmeg. Folks said Mr. Adams was a very tender hearted man. Per- haps 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 peddler ; not t'.iat they are so awful heavy neither, but it teaches a man to stoop in the long run U- : 1 h H 1!'^; rum CLOCKMAKER, Artcr all, thero's not that (li(Tt'renco in 'em — at least there ain't in (>()n;j;r('.ss — one would tiiiiiU ; for if one of them is clear of one vice, why, as liUe as not, he has another fault just as bad. An honest farmer, like one of these Cmuberland folks, when he goes to choose atwixt two that offers for votes, is jist like tha flying-fish. That 'ere little critter is not content to stay to home in the water, and mind its business, but he must try his hand at flyiu', 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 l)lnguy rht. I the 131 1 know jist about 'uess tne liluenoses know about politics as this foolish fish knows about Hying. All critters in nature are better in their own element. "It beats cock-fightin', I tell you, to hear the Bluenoses, when they get together, talk politics. They have got three or four evil spirits, like the Irish Banshees, that they say cause all the nuschief 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 neighbors do, and wants to be a magistrate before he is fit to carry the inkhorn for one, and finds himself safely de- livered of a mistake, he says it is all owing to the Council. The members are cunnin' critters, too; hey know this feelin', and when they come home SAYINGS AND DOINGS IN CUMnilRlAND. 99 from Assembly, and peopli* ax 'oni, ' Wlu»re arc all tlu'in 'ere fine things yon promised ns?' 'Why, they say, ' we'd a had 'em all for yon, bnt for thai etarnal Coimcil ; they nnililied all we did.' The conntry will come to no good till thenj chaps show their respect for it, by covering their bottoms with hoiiHispun. If a man is so tarnation lazy he won't work, and in conrse has no money, why he says it's all owin' to the banks, thcv won't disconnt, there's no money, they've mined the Province. If there bean't a road niade 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 lawy(!rs come in for their share of cake and ale, too ; if they don't catch it, it's a pity. "There was one Jim IMunroe, 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 anybody's windows were broke, it was Jim Mnnroe ; and if there were any young- sters 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 m 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 «very dog does for three months to come So every MEjller that goes j elfin' home from a court house. ' V ffl h i II 100 THE CLOCKMAKER. snicirtin' from the law, swears he is bit by a lawyer N«)w there niav be something wronof 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 chance 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 near about up to the notch, he'd better not swap him ; if he does, he's e'enamost sure to get one not so good as his own. My rule is, I'd rather keep a critter whose faults I do know, than change him for a becut whose faults I donUt know.'* '. 1^' il ;U.i! ■ a CHAi'TER XV. THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD. ) " I WISH that 'ere black heifer in the kitchen woiikl ffive over sinoinjr that 'ere everlastin' dismal tune," said the Clockniaker ; " 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; they beat the ^ye-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 ' O 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 hear tell of it, I vow ; I wish to ijracious vou 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; 1 102 THE CLOCKMAKER. '/■■k I V ■' r "the .schoolmaster is abroad now,"' and he looked as kuowin' as thouj^h he had found a mare's nest. 'So I sliould think,' said I, 'and it would jist be about as well, I guess, if he'd stay to home and mind his business ; for your folks are so consoomedly ignorant, I reckon he's abroad e'enamost 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, of all kinds; it's a sure sign of a tricky dis- position. If you see a feller cant in religion, clap your hand into your pocket, and lay right hold of your puss, or he'll steal it, as sure as you're alive ; and if a man cants 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 congregation : and if a doctor takes to it, he's a quack as sure as rates. The Lord have massy on you, for he won't. I'd sooner trust my chance with a naked hook any time, than one that's half-covered with bad bait. The fish will sometimes swallow the one, without thinkin', but they get frightened at t'other, turn tail, and off like a shot. " Now, to change the tune, I'll give the Bluenoses tt new phrase. They'll have an election most likelj THE LANCING MASTEh ABROAD. 103 next year, and then Hhe DancirC Master will bt abroad.' A candidate is a most particular polite man, a noddin' here, and a bowin' there, and a Bhakin' hands all round. * Nothin' improves a man's manners like an election. ' I'he Dancin' Master's ♦ abroad then ;' nothin' gives the paces equal to that; it makes them as squirmy as an eel ; they cross hands and back afT'in,set to their partners, and right and left in great style, and slick it off at the eend, with a real 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 to home, and the little boy that made such a wonderful smart an- swer, 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 loca- tion has been neglected, and how nuich he wants to find a real 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 himself, ' Now you see what's to 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 prac- tice 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 bri I m 104 THE CLOCKMAKER. r'1 die, serves for another ; a shakin' of it is better than a oivin' of it — it saves the liiain for another time. It's a poor business arter all, is electioneering, and when ' the Dancin' Master is abroad,' he's as apt to teach a n;an to cut capers and get larfed at as any- thing else. It ain't every one that's soople enough to dance real complete. Politics take a great deal of time, and grind away a man's honesty near about as fast as cleaning a knife with brick dust. ' It takes its steel out.'' What does a critter get arter all for it in this country? Why, nothin' but expense and dis- appointment. As King Solomon says, — and that 'ere man was up to a thing or two, you may de- pend, though our Professor did say he warn't so knowin' as Uncle Sam, — it's all vanity and vexa- tion of spirit. '* I raised a four-year-old colt once, half blood, a perfect pictur* of a horse, and a genuine clipper ; could gallop like the wind; a real daisy, a perfect doll ; had an eye like a weasil, and nostril like Com- modore Rogers' speakin' trumpet. Well, I took it down to the races at New York, and father he v/ent along witii me ; for says he, ' Sam, you don't know everything, I guess ; you hain't cut your wisdom teeth yet, and you are goin' among them that's had 'em through their gums this while past.' Well, when we gets to the races, father gets colt and puts him in an old wagon, with a wornout Dutch harness and breast-band ; he looked like Old Nick, that's a fact. Then he fastened a head martingale on, and THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD. 10,' 1 ' ■ buckled it to the girths utwixt 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 old Satan himself — no soul would know him.' ' I guess I warn't born yesterday,' says i 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 iuto a millstone as the best on 'em.' '• Well, father never entered the horse at all, but stood by and seed the races, and the winnin' horse was followed about by the matter of two or three thousand people a praisin' of him and admirin' him. They seemed as if they never had seed 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 agin him for four hundred dollars. Father goes up to him, lookin' as soft as dough, and as meechin' as you please, and says he, ' Friend, it ain't every one 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 wagon 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 colt, and wheu they seed him. they sot up such a larf, I felt e'enamost ready to cry for spite. Says 1 to myself, 'What can possess the old man to act arter that fashion ? I do believe he nas taken leave j)f his senses.' ' You needn't larf,' savs father, ' he's IM m 106 THE CLOCKMAKER. smarter than he looks; our minister's old horse, Captain Jack, is reckoned as quick a beast of his age as any in our location, and that 'ere colt can beat him for a lick of a quarter of a mile quite easy ; I seed it myself.' Well, they larfed ag'in 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 dol- lars.' ' Well, that's a great deal of money, ain't it?' says father ; ' if I was to lose it I'd look pretty fool- ish, wouldn't I ? How folks would pass their jokes at me when I went home again. You wouldn't take that 'ere wagon 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 bran new pair of trouser galiusses. One said, ' That's a plaguy nice lookin' colt that old feller has, arter all.' ' That horse will show play for it yet,' says a third; and I heard one feller say, ' I guess that's a regular Yan- kee trick, a complete take in.' They had a fair Btart for it, and off they sot ; father took the lead Hiid kept it, and won the race, though it was a pretty tight scratch, for father was too old to ride colt ; he was near about the matter of seventy years old. THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD. 10' '' Well, whf n the colt was walked round after the race, tliere was an aniazin' crowd arter him, and several wanted to buy him ; but says father, ' How am I to get home without him, and what shall 1 do with that 'ere wagon and harness, so far as I be from Slickville?' So he kept them in talk, till he felt their pulses pretty well, and at last he closed wilii a Southerner for seven hundred dollars, and we re- turned, having made a considerable good spec of colt. Says father to me, ' Sam,' says he, ' you seed the crowd a follerin' the winnin' horse, whe:i we came there, 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 popu- larity,* said he, 'soon won, soon lost — cried up sky high one minute, and deserted 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 Bonaparte; the bread they gave him turned soui' afore he got half through the loaf His soap had hardly stiffened afore it ran right back to lye and grease ag'in. " ' I was sarved the same way. I like 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 'ere field you'll race longer than colt, a plaguy sight ; you'll vun clear awav to the fence to the far eend afore you stop ; so I jist cut in and took a hand myself ^! b ' ■ i -le ag'in — ' That!^ says he, giving them another wipe with his fist, and winkin', as much as to saj', Do you hear that, my boy ! ' that I call independence* He was in ^va^t 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, ill-favored, long-legged bitterns,' says he (only he called them by another name that don't Bound quite pretty), ' from the outlandish States to Congress, talk about independence ; but Sam,' said he, hittino the shin rs aii'in till he made them dance right up on eend in his pocket, ^ Hike to feel it.' " ' No, Sam,' said he, ' line the pocket well first make that independent, and then the spirit will be /^ "I THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD, 109 like a horse turned out to grass in the spring for the first time; lie's all he- d and tail, a snortin' and kickin' and racin' and carrying on like mad ; it soon gets independent too. While it's in the stall it may hold up, and paw, and whinny, and feel as spry as anything, but the leather strap keeps it to the manjier, and the lead weii>ht 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 bust his pocket, and sent a whole raft of them a spinnin' down his leg to the ground. Says I, * Father,* and I swear I could hardly keep from larfin', he looked }-o peskily vexed, — ' Father,' says I, ' I guess there's a moral in that 'ere too : Extremes nary way are none o' 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.' " ( I i i| I H II I «?i! m I ' CIIAPTKIl XVI. MR. SLICK S OPINION OP TFIK BRITISH. 'i! '1: . ( " What success had you," said I, " in the sale of your ck)cks anioui; the Scotch in the eastern part of tlie Province? Do you find them as gullible as the Bluenoses? " "Well," said he, "you have heerd tell that a Yankee never answers one question, without axing another, haven't you? Did you ever see an English stage-driver make a bow? because if you hain't obsarved it, I have, and a queer one it is, I swan. He brings his right arm u[), 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 : jist as a bear puts up his paw to fend off the blow of a stick from his nose. Well, that's the way I pass them 'ere bare breeched Scotchmen. Lord, if thev were located down in thesd here (^'umberland marshes, how the mosquitoes would tickle them up, wouldn't they ? They'd set 'em scratchin' thereabouts, as an Irishman does his head, when he's in sarch of a lie Them 'ere fel'ers 4 MR. SLICK'S OPINION. Ill cut their eye-teeth afore they ever sot foot in this country, I expect. When they jL^et a bawhee, they know what to do with it, tiiat's a fact ; they open their pouch and drop it in, and it's got a Sj)ring like a fox-trap ; it holds fast to all it gets, like grim death to a dead nigger. They are proper skinflints, you may depend. Oatmeal is no great shakes at best; it ain't even as oood for a horse as real valler Varjiinnv corn ; but I iiuess I vvarn't louu in findini* out that the grits hardly pay for the riddlin'. No, a Yankee has as little chance among them as a Jew has in New England ; the sooner he clears out the better. You can n(» more put a leake into them, than you can send a chisel into teak wood ; it turns the edge of the tool the first drive. If the Blue- noses knew the value 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 seed. Judge Beeler, — I dare say you have heerd tell of him ; he's a funny feller, — he put a notice over his factory gate at Lowell, 'No cigars or Irishmen ad- mitted within these walls ; ' for, said he, ' The one will set a flame agoin' amonix mv 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 join in the n N ! iiii THE ClJJCKMAKElt. treaty to chock the wheels of tlie shivo-tnule, 1 recollect hearin' old .lohii Adams say we had ou^ht to humor them ; for, says he, 'They siijjply us with labor oil easier terms, by shippin' out the Irish. Says he, ' They work better, and they work cheaper, nnd they don't live so Ion*;. The blacks, when they are past worU, han<^ on forever, and a proper bill of expense they be ; but hot weather and new rum rub out the j)oor rates for t'other ones.' " The Knjrlish 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, kickin' breed of cattle, as I e'enamost ever seed. Whoever gave them the name of John Hull, knew what he was about, I tell you ; for they are all bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow ;" sulky, ugly tempered, vicious critters, a pawin' and a roarin' the whole time, and plaguy onsafe unless well watched. They are as headstrong as mules, and as conceited as pjacocks." The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my countrymen absorbed every feeling of resentment. I listened with amazement at the perfect composure 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 of," said he, " than to see one on 'em when he first lands in one MR. SLICK'S OPINION. 113 of onr rrrojit cities. He swells out tis l)i«; as a bal- loon ; liis skin is n^uly to i)urst with wind — a re<;- ular walkiiii: bajj: of tjas ; and he prances over the pavement liUti a bear over hot iron ; a j^reat awk- ward hulk of a feller — for they ain't to be compared CO the French in manners — a smirkin' at yon, as nnich as to say, ' Look li<'re, Jonathan, 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 ]iocket full of one, and a mouthful of t'other: bean't he lovely?* and then he looks as fierce as a tig(;r, as much as to say, 'Say boo to a goose, if you dare.' '•No, I believe we may stump the univarse ; we improve on everything, and we have improved 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 cit- izens. He's the chap that has both speed, wind, and bottom ; lie's clear grit — ginger to the backbone, you may depend. It's generally allowed there ain't the beat of them to be found anvwhere. Snrv 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 sbine off creation ; they are actilly equal to cash." He looked like a man who felt that he had ex- pressed bimself so aptly and so well, that anything additional would only weaken its effect; he there- fore changed the conversation immediately, by pointing to a tree at some Mttle distance from the 8 I m i '-i i 114 THE CLOCKMAKER. 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 tapping for many years, though it gets exhausted at last. This Province is like that 'ere tree : it is tapped till it begins to die at the top, and if they don't drive in a spile and stop the everlastin' flow of the sap, it will perish alto- gether. All the money that's made here, all the interest that's paid in it, and a pretty considerable portion of 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 irenches 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 verv sile becomes dust, and blows away. The Eng- lish funds, and our banks, railroads, and canals, are all absorbing your capital like a sponge, and will lick it up as fast as you caA make it. That very bridge we heerd of at Windsor is owned in New Brunswick, and will pay toll to that Province. The capitalists of Nova Scotia treat it like a hired house: they won't keep it in repair ; they neither paint it to preserve the boards, nor stop a leak to keep the frame from rottin': but let it go to wrack, 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 St MR. SLICK'S OPINION, 115 here ; but the whole country is as inactive as a bear in winter, that does notliin' but scrop.tch up in his den, a thinkin* to himself, ' Well, if I ain't an un- fortunate devil, it's a pity ; 1 have a most splendid warm coat as e'er a gentleman in these here woods, let hin: be who he will ; but I got no socks to my feet, and have to sit for everlastingly a suckin' of my paws to keep 'em warm ; if it warn't for that, 1 guess I'd make some o' them chaps that have hoofs to their feet and horns to their heads, look about them pretty sharp, 1 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 thern scratch their heads and stare, I know. " I went down to Alatanzas in the FuUon steam- boai once ; well, it was the first of the kind they ever seed, and proper scared they were to see a vessel without sails or oars, coin' right straight ahead, n.ne 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 soldiers a movin' about as if thev thought that we were agoin' to take the whole coui- Iry. Presently a little, hcdf-starved, orange-colored looking Spanish officer, all dressed off in his livery, as fine as a fiddle, came off with two men in a boat 'JO board us. Well, we yawed once or twice, and > i ! 11 116 THE CLOCKMAKER. } n motioned to him to keep off for fear he should get hurt ; but he came right on afore the wlieel, and I hope I may be shot if the paddle didn't strike the bow of the boat with that force, it knocked up the starn like a piank tilt, when one of the boys playing on it is heavier than t'other, and chucked him right atop of tlie wheel-house. You never seed a fellow 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 arterit;' for we never seed or heerd tell of one or t'other of them arter the boat was struck. Yes, I'd make 'em stare like that 'ere Spanish officer, as if they had seed out of their eyes for the first time. Governor Campbell didn't ex- pect to see such a country as this when he came here, I reckon ; 1 know he didn't. " When I was a little bov, about knee hioh or so, and lived down Connecticut River, mother used to say, ' Sam, if you don't give over acting so like Old Scratch, I'll send you off to Nova Scotia, as sure as you are born ; T will, I vow.' Well, Lord, how that ere used to frighten me ; it made my hair stand right up on eend, like a cat's back when she's ivrathy ; it made me drop it as quick as wink ; like % tin nightcap put on a dipped candle agoin' to bed, MR. SUCK'S OPINION. 117 re as that tand she's like bed t put the fun right out. Neighbor Doarbrrne's darter married a gentleman to Yarmoutb, that Bpeculates in the smuggling line. Weil, when slie went on board to sail down to Nova Scotia, all her folios took on as if it was a funeral ; they said she was goin' to be buried alive, like the nuns in Porten- gale that f^et a frolickin', break out of the pastwr* and race off, and get catched and brought back ag'in. Says the old Colonel, her father, ' Deliverance, njy dear, I would sooner foller you to your grave, for that would be an eend to your troubles, tlian to see you go off to that dismal country, that's notliin' but an iceberg ajrround;' 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 f\ill, a crowdin' out of the shade to a suntiy spot, and huddlin' up there in the warmth ? Well, tiie Bluenoses have nothin' else to do half tlie time but sun tliemselves. Whose fault is that? Why, it's the fault of the legislature. Thef/ don't encourage iyJernal improvement^ nor the investment of capital in the country ; and the result is apathy, in- Stctiony and poverty. They Sj>end three months in Halifax, and what do tliev do ? Father oave 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 have thev to show .^ ; . 1: 118 THE (JL a KM A KER : t for their three months' settinij? Thev mislead folks; they make 'em believe all the use of the Assembly is to bark at Councillors. Judges, Hankers, and such cattle, to keep 'em from eatin' up tiie 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 iCs no use to make fences unless the land is cultivated. If I see a farm all gone to wrack, I say. Here's bad husbandry and bad manage- ment; and if I see a Province like this, of great capacity, and great natural resources, poverty- stricken. I say, There's bad legislation. '' No," said he, with an air of more seriousness than I had yet observed ; *' hoia much it is to be re- gretted, that, laying aside personcd attacks and petty jecdousies, they luould not unite as one man, and ivith one mind and one heart apply themselves sedulously to the interned improvement and development of this beautiful Province. Its vcdue is utterly unknown, either to the general or local government, and the only persons who duly appreciate it are the Yankees" p. * ♦ 'i i CHAPTER xvir. A YANKEE HANDLE FOR A HALIFAX BLADE. "I MET a man this niorninV' said the Clockmaker, '■* from Halifax, a real conceited lookin' critter as yon e'enamost ever seed, all shines and didoes. He looked as if he had picked np his airs arter some offi- cer of the resjilars had worn 'em ont and cast 'em off. They sot on liin\ like second-hand clothes, as if they hadn't heen 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 thinkin' himself mighty handswm. 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 natural ; he had a riding -whip in his hand, and every now and then struck it agin his t'\igh, as much as to say, ' Ain't that a splendid 'eg for a boot, now? Won't I astcmish 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 J came up, he held up his head near about as hish as a shot factory, and stood with his fists on his hips, and eyed me from I ^%- if li\ ^ 4 120 THE CLOCKMAKER. head to foot, as a shakin' Quaker does a town lady as much as to say, What a queer critter you be ! that's toLjiicry I never seed afore ; you're some car- nal minded maiden, thai's sartain. "• Weil,' says he to me, witli tiie air of a n)an that chucks a cent into a bef;<;ar's hat, 'A fine day this, sir.' 'Do you actillv tiiink so,' said I? and I gave it the real 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, 1 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 'ere swap, I am ready to trade with you a;n'io as soon as you like.' AVell, he turned v\^\\i round on his heel and walked off, a whistlin' Yankee Doodle to himself. He looked jist like a man that finds whistlin' a plaguy sight easier than thin kin'. " Presently I heerd him ax the groom who that *ere Yankee lookin' feller was. 'That?' said the groom, 'why, I guess it's Mr. Slick.' ' Sho ! ' Sidd he, ' how vou talk! What! Slick the Clockmakei- ' Why, it ain't possible ; I wish I had a known that 'ere afore, I declare, for I have a great curiosity to jfee him ; folks say he is amazin' clever feller that ; ' and ho turned and stared, as if it was old Hickory him- self. Then he walked round and about like a pi^ round the fence of a potato field, a watchin* for a chance to cut in ; so, thinks I, I'll jist give him sor^' : I A YANKEE HANDLE. 121 gave : tiling to talk about when he gets back to tlie city ; I'll i\x a Yankee handle on to 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 thinay of Fundy, « pretty iools t<) u;o to Ilaiifax, when tliey can go to St. Jolin willi half tlu; trouble? St. Joliii is the natural capital of the Uay of Fundy ; it will be the lard harbor, and as for that the coast is full of 'em. You haven't a pine log, a spruce board, or a refuse shin- gle ; you neither raise wheat, oats, or hay, nor never •an; you have no staples on airth. unless it be them iron ones for the padlocks in Bridewell. You've ^owed pride and reaped poverty ; take care of your crop, for it's worth harvestin'. You have no rivei and no country ; what in the name of fortin' have vou to trad(» on ' ' A YANKI'lK UANDIJC. 123 *** But/ said he (aiul lie sliovved tlu; wMtes of his eyes like a wall-eyed horst*), 'but,' said he, ' JNlr. Slick, how is it, theu, Halifax ever orcw at all? hasu't it ^ot what it always had ? it's uo worse thau it was.' 'I jruess,' saiil I, 'that pole aiu't stnnijj; enough to bear you, ueilher; if you trust to that, vou'll b(i into the brook as sure as vou are born ; vou once had the trade of the whole Province, l)iit St. John has run off with that now ; vou've lost all but vour trade in blueberries and rabbits with tiie niggers at llamuiond Plains. YoiCce lost your cus- tomers ; your rivals haoe a better stand for business — theyve (jot the corner store ; four yreat streets ntett there^ and it's near the marhet slip.' "Well, he stared ; says he, ' I believe you're right, but 1 never thouiiht of that afore.' Thinks 1, no- body'd ever suspect you of the trick of thinkin' that ever I heer'd tell of. ' Some of our great men,' said he, ' laid it all to your folks' selling so many clocks and Polyglot Bibles ; they say you have taken off a horrid sight of money.' ' Did they, indeed ? ' said T ; * well, I guess it ain't pins and needles that's the expense of housekeepin', it is something more costly than that' ' Well, some folks say it's the banks,' says he. ' Better still,' s:;ys I ; ' perhaps you've hearn tell, too, that gr jasin' the axle makes a gig haider to draw, for there's jist about as nuich sense in that. Well, then,' says he, 'others say it's snuigglin' has made us so poor.' ' That guess, said I, ' is most as ^ood as t'other one ; whoever found out that secret t J •i V 124 THE CLOCKMAKER. oiiglit to get :i patent lor it, for it's worth kiiowin' Then the comUiy h:is ^rown poiM'er, hadn't it, he- causo it has bought clieaper this year tiiaii it did the year before? Wliv, your folks are cute chaps, I vow; tliey'd puzzle a PhihuUilphia hiwyer, tliey are so ainaziu k UOWUI aid I 1 1) le, and iu; ru iblH'd his hands and snTded, hke a vounij th)ctor when he gets his first patient ; ' ah,' said he, ' if tiie timber duties are altered, down comes St. John, bodv and breeciies ; it's built on a poor foundation — ^ it's all show; they are specuiatin' like mad; they'll ruin themselves.' Says I, ' If you wait till they're dead for your fortin', it will be one while, I tt^ll you, afore you pocket the shiners, li's no joke waitin' for a dead nuui's shoes. Suppose an old feller of eighty was to sav, " When that 'ere \ounritish don't offer we will, and St. John, like a dear little weeping widow, will dry up her tears and take to frolickin' ag'in, and accept it right off. " ' There isn't at this moment such a location hardly in America, as St. John ; for besides all its other advantaores it has this fjreat one: its onlv rival, Hal- ifax, h IS got a dose of opium that will send it snor- ing out of the world, like a feller who falls asleep on the ice of a winter's night. It has been asleep so A YANKEE HANDLE. 12.5 lonjT, I nctilly think it never will wuke. It's an ojisy deulli, too : you ni;iy rouse them up, if vou iiive, hut I vow I won't. I once hroui^lit a fi'lhu- to thiit was drowned, and one niijjht he j^(»l druniv aiul <|uilt<'(l nie ; I couhhi't walk for a wetdi. Says I, " You're the last cliap Til ever save from (h'owuini^ in all my horn days, if that's all tlie thanks I j^ct for it." No, sir, Halifax has lost the run of its custom. Who docs Yarmouth trade with ? St. John. Who does Annapolis County trade with ? St. .Fohn. Who do all the folks on the liasin of Mines, and Hay Shore, trade? with? St. John. Who does Cumherland trade with ? St. John. Well, Pictou, Lunenhurix, and Liverpool supply themselves, and the rest, that ain't worth havin', trade with Halifax. They take down a fi^.w half-starved l)igs, old vit(U'an j^ecse, and lonix-leofiied fowls, some ram mutton and touuh heef, and swap them for tea, su^ar, and such little notions for their old women to hoiue ; while the railroads and canals of St. Jolin are coin' to cut off vour Gulf Shore trade to Miramichi, and aloni; there. Flies vive in the summer and die in wiiiter: 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 hall room arter a dance. The folks have eat, drank, and trolickeA, and left an en. pty house, the lamps and \ian(Tings are left, but the people are ' in her oar afore her turn, I criiess. She'll mind ht r stops next hitch, 1 reckon." This was our last breakfast at Amherst. An early frost that smote the potato fields, and chaucred the beautiful jjreen color of th? Indian corn into shades of light yellow and dark brown, reminded me of the presence of autunm, of the season of short days and bad roads. I determined to proceed at once to Pa:rsboro', and thence by the Windsor and Kentville route to Annapolis, Yarmouth, and i^.helburne, and to return by the shore road, through Liverpool iind Lunenburg, to Halifax. I therefore iook leave (though not without nuich reluctance) of the Clockmaker, whose intention had been to go to Foit Lawrence. " Well," said lie, " I vow I am sorry to part com- pany along with you ; a considerable long journejf THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE NOSE. 141 -I like our'n, is like sitting up late with the gals : a bodv knows it's oL'tlint; on prettv well towards */ oof** niornin', 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 ou ns ; I got debts dne to me in all them 'ere places for clocks sold by the consarn ; now snppose 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 eves 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 wagon I have here, and drive you all round the coast." This was too good an offer to be declined. A run at grass for my horse, an easy and comfortable wajTon, and a guide so oriiiinal and amusing as Mr. Slick, were either of them enough to induce my acquiescence. As soon as we had taken our seats in the wagon, he observed, — " We shall progress real handsum now ; that 'ere horse goes etarnal fast ; he near about set my axle on fire twice. He's a spanker, you may depend. I had him when he was a two-vear-old, all legs and tail, like a devil's darnin' needle, and had him broke »n purpose by father's old nigger, January Snow He knows P^nglish real well, and can do near about anything but speak it. He helped me once to gin H Bluenose a proper handsum quiltin'." ** He must have stood a poor chance indeed," said F . }| «;i 1! 142 THE CLOCKMAKER. . « r, " a horse kicking, and a man striking him at the Bame time." " O ! not arter that pattern at all," said he "Lord, if Old Clav had kicked him, he'd a smashed him like that 'ere saucer you broke at Pugnose's inn into ten hundred thousand million flinders. ! 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 Whitter's inn. Tiiere was an arbitration there at ween Deacon Text and Deacon Faithful. Well, there was a nation sight of folks there, for they said it WHS a biter bit, and they came to witness the sport, and to see which critter would get the ear- mark. " Well, 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 par- ticular handsuin Jamaiky, and was trottin' off pretty slick, when who should I run ag'in but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly, cross-grained critter, as you a'enamost ever seed, when he is about half-shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says 1, * Mr. Tiradley, 1 hope you bean't hurt ; I'm proper sorry I run ng'in you ; you can't feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.' He called me a Yankee peddler, a cheat- in' vaj^abond, 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 Yan- kee ! ' 'Let him have it, Tim!' 'Teach him bet- ter manners ! ' and they carried on pretty high, I tel," VHE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUE NOSE. 143 you. Well, I got my dander up too, I felt all up on eend like ; and thinks I to myself, JNIy lad, if I get a clever chunce, I'll give you such a quiltin' as you never had since you were raised from a seedliu', I vow. So says I, ' ]Mr. Bradley, I guess you had bet- ter let me be ; you know I can't fight no more than a cow; I never was brought up to wranglin', I don't like it.' ' Haul off the cowardly rascal ! ' they all bawled out, ' haul hiui off and lay it into him ! ' So he lays right hold of me by the collar, and gives me a pull, and I lets on as if I'd 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 off ahead, so I knew I had hiui when I wanted him. * Then,* says I, * I hope you are satisfied now, Mr, Bradley, with that 'ere ungenteeei fall you gin 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 wav for nothin', I'll no rhAu off and swear my life agin you ; I'm most afeerd you'll murder me.' Well, he strikes at me ag'in, 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 ain't pretty at all ; I guess I'll give you a chase for it.' Off I sets arter my horse like mad, and he arter me (I did that to get clear of the crowd, so that I might have fair play at hiui). Wei"., I soon found ( had the heels of him, and could j)lay him as I liked. Then I slackened up a little, and when he came close 1! i:^1 I 144 THE CLOCKMAKER. up lo me, so as nearly to lay his hand upon me, I squat- i,ed ri^ht vvhap 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 a foot or two. If he didn't polish up the coulter, and both mouldboards of his face, it's a pity. ' Now, Bays I, 'you had better lay where you be and let me go, for I am 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 am most afeared you hurt yourself.' That riled him properly ; I meant that it should ; so he ups and at me awful spiteful, like a bull ; then I lets him have it, right, left, right, jist three corkers, beginning with the right hand, shifting to the left, and then with the right hand ag'in. 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 hitting, and always does the busi- ness — a blow for each eye, and one for the mouth. It sounds like ten pounds ten on a blacksmith's an^ vil ; I bunged up both eyes for him, and put in the dead lights in tu tu's, and drew three of his teeth, (packer 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 humor, come to me. and I'll play you the second part of that identical same tune that's a fact.' _r — - -^T - t ii ' ill .1 i ^ t II THE CLOCKMAKER QUILTS A BLUENOSE. 145 « With that I wliistled for Old Clay, and back he comes, and I mounted and ofli jisl as the crowd came up. The folks looked staggered, and wondered a little grain how it was done so cleverly in short me- tre. If J didn't quilt him in no time, you may de- pend ; I went right slap into hini, like a flash of lightning into a gooseberry bush, lie found his suit ready made and fitted afore he thought he was half measured. Thinks I, Friend IJiadley, I hope you know yourself now, for I vow no livin' soul would ; you swallowed your soup without singin' out scaldins, and you're near about a pint and a half nearer cry- in' 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 ; 1 can't help a thinkin* sometimes the breed must have come from old Ken- tuck, half horse, half alligator, with a cross of the aisthquake. " I hope I may be teetotally ruinated, if I'd take eight hundred dollars for him. Go ahead, you old clinker-built villain," says he, " and show the gen- tleman how wonderful handswrn you can travel. Give him the real Connecticut quickstep. That's it ! that's the way to carry the President's message to Congress from Washington to New York in no iime ! that's 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 bed of a summei's mornin'. Ain't he a b(^autv ? a real doll ? none of 10 ■4i ■ f 146 THE CLOCKSfAKER. your Cumberland critters, that the more you quilt them, the more they won't go; but a proper 0!ie, that will oo free gratis for nothin', all out of his own head >fo\\\nterrily. Yes, a horse like Old Clay is worth the whole seed, breed, and generation of the Amherst beasts nut together. He's a horse every inch of him, stock, lock, and barrel, is Old Clay." J" id u if it I i CHAPTER XX. STSTKR SALL S COURTSHIP. " There goes one of tliem 'ere evcrlastin' rottin* poles in that bridge; they are no be* '^r than a trap for a critter's leg," said the Ciocknial'. r. "They re- mind me of a trap Jim JMunroe p>,. his i.)ot in one night, that near about made oho ie*^ half a yard loncrer tlian t'otiier. I believe \ toid vou of him, what a desperate idle feller he v . he came from Onion County in Connecticut. Well, he was court- in' Sister Sail. She was a real haudsum looking gal ; you scarce ever seed a more out-and-out com- plete critter than she was ; a fine figur' head, 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 head ; the more we wanted her to give him up, the more she wouldn't, find we got plaguy oneasy about it, for his character was none of the best. lie was a universal favorite with the gals, though he didn't behave very pretty neither, forgetting to marry where he promised, and where he hadn't ought to have forgot too ; yet so it was, he had such an uncommon winnin' way with I 148 THE CLOCKyfAKER. M I i 1 ^ fi 'I V ;i i\ Iiii7i, he could talk tlioin over in no time. Sail was fairly bewitched. " At last, father said to him one evening when he came a c(Hirtin', * Jim,' says he, 'you'll never come to no i:()(Kl, if vou act like Old Scratch as you do ; you ain't fit to come into no decent man's house at ail, and your al)sence woul-d be ten times more agreeable than your couipany. I tell you. I woji't consent iit she recovered that pretty soon ; ami tlieii her color went and came, and caiiu; and went, till at last she <;rew as white as chalk, and down she Cell slap (»l]'lier seat on the floor, in a fainlin' (it. ' I see.' >a\s fallier. • 1 see it now, you etarnal villain.' and he made a pull at the old-fashiontHl sword, that alwavs huii<> over the fir(>place (we us( d to call it old liunker, fof his stories alwavs heLiini, ' When I was at llunkei's Hill '), and drawing it out he nuuhi a clip at him as wicked as if he was stabhinii a rat witli a lia\f'oik : but Jim, he outs of the door like a shot, and draws it to arter him. and father sends old liunker ri^ht throuijjh the panel. ' Til chop you up as ['ww. as mince-meat, vou villain.' said he, * if ever I catch vou inside mv door air'in ; nnnd what I tell vou, yinHl uving fur it yi'.€ Well, he made himself consider- able scarce arter that; he never sol foot inside the door ag'in, and I thought he had gin up all hopes- of Sail, and she of him ; when one ni^lit, a most par- ticular uncomnion dark nioht, as I was a comin' heme iVom neii^hhor Dearborne's. I heerd some one a talkin' under Sail's window. Well, I stops and listens, and who shoidd be near the a^h sajiliii' but Jim Munroe, a tryin' to persuade Sail to run oU'with him to Khode Island to be married. It was all Bettled he should come with a hoise and shay to the gale, and then help her out of tlu! window, jist at nine o'clock, about the time she conmionly went to bed. Then he axes her to reach down her hand for V. 150 77//'; (N.Ot'KSIAKI'.R. ' Hj Ml n?i him to kiss (for lie was proper clever at soft sawder) and she stretched it down, and he kisses it; atid says lie, ' I believe I must liav(» the whole of you out arter all,' ami gwvs her a jerk that kinder startled her ; it came so sudden like it made her scream : so off he sot. hot foot, and over the gate in no time. " Well, I ciphered over this all night, a calculatin* how I should ri'ciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I recollected father's words at partin', " Mind ivhat I tell j/on, yoiill sivimj for it yet;' and thinks I, Friend Jim, I'll make that })rophecy come true yet, I guess. So the next night, jist at dark, 1 gives .January Snow, the old nigger, a nidge with my ellxuv, and as soon us he looks up, I winks and walks out, and he arter Mne. Says I, 'January, can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger, you ? ' ' Why massa, why you ax that 'ere question ? my Gor A'mity, you tink old Snow he don't know tiiat 'ere yet? my tongue he got plenty room now, debil a tooth left ; he can stretch out ever so far ; like a little leo in a big bed, he lay (piiet (Miough, massa, neber fea".' ' Well, then,' says I. • bend down that 'ere ash saplin' softly, you old Snowbtdl, and miike no noise.' The saplin' was no sooner bent than secured to the ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slij)-knot was sus- pended from the tree, jist over the track that led from the pathway to the house. ' Why my Gor, massa. that's a ' — ' Mold your mug, von old ni<»ger,' says I. • or I'll send your tongue a sarchin' arter your *.eeth ; keep quiet, and follow me in presently.' SISTKR SALL'S COURTSHIP. lot " Well, jist as it struck nino o'clock, says T, Sally, hold this licit; h;iiik of twine for a inimit", till 1 Nviiid a tiifli; on it olF; that'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 aw;iy ever so slow, and drops the ball every now and then, so as to keep her down-slairs. ' Sam,' says she. * I do Ixdievt! vou won't wind that 'ere twine ofl' all night; do give it to .lanuary ; I wcm't stay no longer; I'm e'enamost 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 some- thing in the ash safdin', didn't you Sail ? ' 'I heerd the geese there, that's all.' says she; 'they always come under the windows at nijjht ; ' but she looked scared enough, and says she, ' I vow, I'm tired holdin* out of my 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 minute, dear, till I send old January out to see if anybody is there ; perhaps some o' neighbor Dearborne's cattle have broke into the sarce <;arden.' January went out, though Sail said it was no use, for siie 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. O! Gor A'mity,' said lu?, 'O massa, O Miss Sally, 0! ' ' What on airth is the matter with you ?* said Sally ; ' how you do frighten me ; I vow, I believe i 162 7HE CLOCKMAKER. i : ii 5' \l \\\ Is you're mad.' ' n\\ Gor,' said he, 'O ! massa, Jim Mimroe ho hang himself on the ash saj)lin' under Miss Sally's windinv — () my Gor !' Tiiat shot was a settler, it struck poor Sail rioht atwixt wind and water ; she gave a lurch ahead, then heeled over, and sunk right down in another f'aintin' fit ; and /hitio, old Snow's wife, carried her oti' 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 ! ' 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 seed him, "Jin\," says I. "mind what I say, yowV/ swing for it yet^ (^ive me the sword T wore when I was at Bunker Hill. — may he tiieie is life yet, — I'll cut him down.' TiiC lantern was soon made ready, and out we went to the ash sa|)rm'. ' C^ut me down, Sam I that's a "ood iellow.' said .lim ; * all the blood in inv !)()dv has swashed into mv head, and's a runnin' out o' mv nose ; I'm e'enamost smothered ; be (pn'ck, for Heaven's sake.' ' The Lord be praised,' said father, ' the poor sinner is not quite d(!ad yet. Whv, as I'm alive; — well if that don't heat ail notur' ! why he has hanged himself by one leg, and's B swingin' like ?. rabbit, upside down, that's a lact, Why, if he ain't snai(:(), Sam ; he is properly wired I declare ; I vow t.iis is some o' your dolus, Sam. Well, it was a clever scheme too, but a little grain iiIST£n SALL\i COURTS III P. 1 •" " too danoerous, I miess.' * Doi/t stand stariii' and jawin' there all niijjht/ said Jim. • cut ine down, I tell voii — or cut n»v throat, and be dauuKnl to von, for I am chokin' with blood.' ' lioll over that 'ere hoi^s- head, old Snow,' said I, ' till I ijjet atop on it and cut him down.' So I soon n^leased him, but he couldn't walk a bit. His ankle was swelled and sprained like venireance, and he swore one lei£ was near al)()ut six inches longer than t'other. ' Jim Munroe,' savs father, 'little did I think I should ever see vou in- side my door a<4'in, but I bid you enter nt)w ; we owe you that kindness, anyhow.' '• Well, to make i ion^j story siiort, Jim was so chop-fallen, and so down in the month, he begged for Heaven's sak(i it mi<_iht be kept a secret; he said he would run tin; State if ever it uot wind, he was sure he couldn't stand it. ' It will be one while, I ^iiess,' said father, ' afore you are able; to run or stand cither; but if vou will ix've me vour hand, Jim, and pioinise to cive over vour evil ways, I will not only keep it secret, but you shall be a welcome j^uest at old Sam Slick's once more, for the sake of your father, lie was a brave man, one of the heroes of Hunker's Hill ; he was our seri^c^ant and' — ' He promises,' says I, 'father' (for the old man had stuck his riuht foot out, the 'A'v he always stood when \\v t(»ld about tlu; old war: and as Jin; cou'dn't stir a pen, it was a f^rand chance, and \n\ was aijoin' to gi\e him the whole Revolution frosn (rcneral Gane up to hide- oendence). ' he [)romi^es,' says I, "lather.' \VeU, it 154 THE CL CKMA KER. l?-t I was all settlccl, 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' man as Minister Josluia Hopewell, and was married to our Sail. Notliin' was ever said about the snare till arter the weddin'. "When the minister had finished axin' a hlessin', father goes up to Tim, and says he, 'Jim IM'mroe, my boy,' givin' him a rousin' slap on the shoulder that sot him a cou«>hin' for the matier of five min- utes (for he was a mortal powerful man, was father), 'Jim Munroe, my boy,' says he, 'you've got the snare round your nock, I guess now, instead of your leg; the sapii!!' has been a father to you ; you may be the father of many saplins.' " We had a most special time of it, you may de- pend, all except the minister; father got him into a coiner, and gave him chapter iind verse for the whole war. Every no.v and then as I come near them, I heard Hunker's Hill, Urandywine, Clinton, Gates, and so on. It was broad day when we parted, and tho 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 ^{i^ York, but I'll tell fou that the next time we meet.' " CIIAPTKR XXr. SETTING IW FOR GOVERNOR. *' 1 NEVER seo one of tlioHi qiiecr little old-fash- ioned teapots, like tliat ere in the cupboard of INIariJi Putjwjish," said the C'loekmaker, '• that I don't tliink of Lawyer Crowniniishirid and his wife. Wlicn I was down to Rhode Island last. 1 spent an eveninjj; with them. Aftcjr I had been tluMe awhile, the black house-help brought in a litlU' hotne-niaae dij)ped candle, stuck in a turnip sliced in two, t(. make it stand straight, and sot it down on the ; .i)le. ' Why,' says the Lawvcr to his wife. ' In- irease, mv dear, what on earth is tlie meanin' o' that? What does little Viney mean by brinoin' in such a liiiht as this, that ain't fit for even a loi> huL of one of our free and enli^ihtened citizens awav down East ; where's the lamp ? ' ' JNIv dear,' savs she, ' I ordered it — you know they are a i^oin' to set vou ui> for Governor next year, and I allot we must economizes or we will he ruined ; the salary is only four hundred dollars a year, you know, and you'll have to <^ive up your practice ; we can't afford uothln' now.' 156 7 HE CL CKMA KER. "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 bigiu'ss of children's toys. When he seed tliat, he i;rew most peskily riled, his under lip curled down liut? a f)each leaf that's «;()t a worm in it, and he stripped his teeth and showed his i>rii»ders, hke a hull-d()i£. ' What foolery is this ? ' said he. ' My dear,' said she, it's llu; foolerv of beinj; Governor; if vou choose to sacrifice all your comfort to being the first runi; in the ladder, don t blame me for it. I didn't nominate you ; 1 had no art nor part in it. It was cooked up at tiiat 'ere Convention, at Town Hall.' Well, he sot for some time without sayin' a word, lookin' as black as a thunder-cloud, just n^ady to make all natur' crack ag'in. 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 |)istol ; it fairly made my mouth water to see him ; thinks T, Them lips ain't a bad bank to (lej)osit one's spare kisses in, neither. ' Increase, my dear,' said he, ' I beli(;ve you are half right; I'll decline to-morrow, I'll have nothin' to do with it. I wont he a Goveitior, on no arroHHf..' " \V(dl. she had to haw and gee like, both a little, tifore she could get her head out of his hands ; and then she said, • Zachariah,' says sh(\ ' how you do let! ain't vou ashamed? Do r(»r gracious' sake be- have vourself!' and she colored ui) all ovi'r like a hettiml; up run aovLusuii. \ol crimson piiiny; 'if you haven't foozled ail my liair too, that's a lact,' says slie ; uiid she put l>er curls to ri|;Ii(s, and looked as pl;'ased as liiu, thonL;h pouliii' all the lime, anel walked rii-ht out of the room. Presently in come two well dressed house-helps, one with a splendid ^ilt lamp, a ical Loudon touch, and another with a tea trav, with a larot, and a cream jug, and siigiir bowl, of the same ^euuine uu^U'.l, and a ujost elei^ant set of real nilt china. lien in came Mi irm Crowningshield herselt", lookiti' as proud as if she would not call the President her cousin ; and she gave tiie J^awyer a look, as much as to say. I guess when M '. Slick is gone, I'll pay you off that 'ere kiss with inte est, you dear, you ; I'll answer a bill at sight for it, 1 will, you may depend. ' I believe,' s dd he air'in, • vou are rii: \\L I ncrease, mv de.ir, it's ai ui w \ expensive kind of honor that, bein' (jovenior, rI no great, thanks n-.-ither ; gi at cry and little ool ; all talk and no cider. It's enough, 1 guess, for a man to uovern his own fair.ilv, ain't it, de: ;■ ? ' * Sartin, my love,' said she, 'sartin. •- man is never so n\uch in his own [)roper sphere > there ; and be- sides,' said she, 'his will is supre t; to home ; thero s no dauijer of tmy one non-coiK tnrinii him there;' and she gave me a sly look, as u.uch as to say. I le( him think he is master in hi.- ^ mi house, foi- when adies wear the breeches, their peiilcoats ought to be 'ong enough to hide tluMU ; but 1 allot. Mr. Slick, vou can sei; with half an eve liiat the * iirav mare is ^he better lior.se ' here. 158 THh: CLOCK MAKER. Il ■ i f " What ;i pity it is," continued tlic Clockniaker, " tliiit the HIiK'noscs would not take ii leaf out of IMann C'rownin^shield's i)()ok, — talk more of tiieir own aflUirs and less of j)olitics. I'm sick of the everhistin' sound of ' House of Assembly,' and ' Council,' and ' oivat folks.' Tiiey never alleviate talkini»- about them from Julv to etarnitv. '• I had a curious convers.ition about politics once, awav ui) to the riiilit liere. Do vou see that 'ere house." said he. "in tlu^ field, that's got a lurch to leeward, like a North River sloop struck with a squall off West I^)int, loi)si(led like? Jt looks like Seth Pine, a tailor down to Hartford, that had one leu shorter than t'otluM", when lu; stood at ease at militia trainin', a restin' on the littlest one. Well, I had a sj)ecial IVolic there; the last time I passed tiiis way. I lost the linch-pin out nf my iorrard axle, and I turned up there to <^vi it sot to rights. Just as I drove throuiih the i»ate, I saw the; eldi'st <»al a makin' for the house (or dear life. She had a short petticoat on that looked like a kilt, aiul her bare legs j)Ut WW. in mind of the long shanks of a bittern down in a rush swamp, a drivin' away like mad full chisel arter a froii^. 1 could not think what on airlh was the matter. Thinks I, She wants to make lu-r- self look decent like afore 1 gel in ; slie don't like t(» pull her stockings on afore me. So I j)ulls ud the old horse and let her have a fair start. Well, v/;ion 1 came to the tloor, I heard a pro|)er scuddin' ; there uras a regular flight into Egypt, jist such a noise kmaker, r out of of tlieir ; of the y,' and iillc'viatt,' cs once, luit 'ere lurcli to with a )ks like lad one ease at Well, I sva\ this rd axle, >. »Jnst St oiil a a short er bare bittern »ad full )n airth k(; lier- likc to ut) the 1, vvhon ; there I noise "^ . ** ■^>^^:- \ S^;<>xc;^ ^' Mm ■■ it ) • I 5i il !^ Jit a SKTTixa LI' yoi: (loVEiisuii. 159 is Utile cliildit-'n make wlieii \\w tuistross coincft suddL-'uly into sehool, :ill u luiddliu' and scroudgin' into their seats, as quiciv as wink. ' Dear nie ! says tlie old woman, as she pnt iier iu'ad out of a brokiMi window to avail who it was, ' is it you, Mr. Slick ? I snigjj^ers, if you didn't frighten ns properly ; wc actilly tliought it was the sherilf; do come in,' " Voor thing, she looked half starved and half savage ; hunger and temper had made proper strong lines in her face, like water Anrows in a plougiied field; she looked bony and thin, like a horse that has had more work tl.an oats, and had a wicked ex- pression, as thongli it warn't over safe to come loo near her heels, — an everiastin' kicker. ' You may come out, John,' said she to her husband, ' it's only Mr. Slick ;' and out canie .lohn froni under the bed backwards, on all fours, like an ox out of the shoein' frame, or a lobster skullin' wron<^ eend foremost ; he looked as wild as a hawk. Well, I swan, I thought I should have split, — I could hardly keep Ironi bursting right out with larfter; he was al! covered with feathers, lint, and dust, the savins of all the sweepins since the house was built, shovtul under there for tidiness. lie actilly sneezed for the matter of ten minutes ; he seemed half-choked with the flaff and stuff. th;it came out with him like a cloud. Lord, he looked like a goose half picked, as if all the ]uills were gone, but the pin-feathers and down were left, list -eadv for sini>ein' and stullin'. He put nie in mind of a sick Adjutant, a great tail 160 THE C/JJCKM A K /':/{. t hulkiiT birfl, that comes from tlie Kast Indsjjics, ii'inost as liii^Ii as a man, and most as knowin' as a liliKMiose. I'd a Ljiii a liuiulrLHl dollars to liavi; had that chap as a show at a fair ; tar and fuathcrs wain't half as natLTul. You've seen u ;;al hotij larf and cry at the same tinie, hain't you? Well, I hope I may be shot if I couldn't have done the same. To Bee that critter come like a turkey out of a bai; at Christmas, to be fir(»il at for ten cents a shot, was as good as a play ; but to look roimd and see the poverty — ti>e hal!' naked children, the old pine stumps for chairs; a simdl bin of poor, watery, yaller potatoes in the cornier; da\li* i ill ;lt , ' '-i; u groat folks niin tho country without ruinin' thorn- Reives, unless they liave insured the Province? Our folks will insure fill creation for half nothin', hut I never heerd tell of a country hein<^ insured ag'in rich niiMi. Now i^'you ever ijo to Wall Street to or^t such a policy, leave the door oi)on behind you, tliat's all ; or they'll grab right hold of you, shave your head and blister it, clap a strait-jacket on you, and whip you right into a madhouse, afore you can say Jack Robinson. No, your great men are nothiu' but rich men, and I can tell you for your comfort, there's nothiu' to hinder vou from bein' rich too, if you will take the same means as they did. They were once all as poor folks as you be, or their fathers afore them ; for I know their whole breed, seed, and generation, and they wouldn't thank you to tell them that you knew their f ithers and grandfithers, I tell you. If ever yon want the loan of a hundred pounds from any of them, keep dark about that ; see as far ahead as you please, but it ain't always pleasant to have folks see too far back. Perhaps they be a little proud or so, but that's nateral ; all folks that grow up right ofT, like a mushroom in one night, are apt to think no small beer of themselves. A cab- baire has pla({uv lar(' 166 THE CLOCKMAKER. -jl,! ■ 5 ( I one on 'cm : the flint svas bad, or she fla.sh(!(l in the pan, or the shot scaled, or soniethinj^ or another ; and when all wouldn't do, 1 swore the ^un was no good at all. " Now," says father (and he edgi'd up ail the time, to pay me off for that hit at his Dunker Hill story, which was the only shot 1 didn't miss) "you hain't got the right reason arter all. It was your own fault, Sam." "'Now that's jist the case with you-; you may blame Ranks, and Council, and House of Assembly, and " the great men," till you are tired, but it's all your own fault ; youve no spirit and no enterprise ; you ivant industry and economy ; use tliem, and yoiCll soon he as rich os the peoph at ILdifax 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. Gice up politics. It's a barren fields and tvell watched too ; where one critter jumps a fence into a good field and gets fat, more nor twenty are chased round and, round, hy a ivhole pack of yelpin^ curs, till they are fairly heat out, and eend hy bein^ half starved, and are at the liftinL at last. \ Look to tjour farms, your water powers, your fisheries, and factories. In short' says I, puttin' on my hat and startin', ' look to yourselves, and dont look to others.' " CHAPTER XXII. A CUllK FOR CONCKIT. " It's a most curious, unaccountable thing, but it's a fact," said the Clockmakor, " the Bluenoses are so conceited, tliey think tliey know everytiiing ; and vet there ain't a liviu' soul in Nova Scotia knows his own business real complete, fanner or fishiM'inan, lawyer or doctor, or any other folk. A farmer said to me one day, up to Pugnose's inn, at River Philip, * Mr. Slick,' says he, ' I allot this ain't '' a bread coun- try ;^^ I intend to sell off the house I improve, and ofo to the States.' ' If it ain't a bread country,' said T, ' I never seed one that was. There is more bread used here, made of best superfine flour, and No. 1 Genesee, than in any other p-ace of the same popu- lation in the imivarse. You m'oht as well say it ain't a clock country, when to my sartin knowledo;e, there are more clocks than Pjibles in it. I guess vou expect to raise vour bread ready made, don't you ? Well, there's only one class of our free and enliiihtened citizens that can do tlia':, 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 168 THE CLOCKMAKER. si ■ii! - :l up killocli and oft'; take my advice and bide where you 1)(\' "AVcll, the (isiiennen are jist as bad. Tlie next time you ^o into the fisb-markot at Halifax, stump some of the old hands ; savs vou. ' How many fins has a cod, at a word?* and I'll licpiidate the bet 'f you lose it. When I've been alon^-shore afore now, a vendin' of my clocks, and they bcoan to raise my dander, by belittling; the Yankees, I always brouiiht them np by a round turn by that requirement, * How many fins has a cod, at a word ?' AVell, they never could answer it ; and then, says I, ' When you larn your own business, I guess it will be time enough to teach other folks their'n.* " How different it is with our men folk. If they can't get through a question, how beautifully they can go round it, can't they ? Nothin' never stops them ; I had two brothers, Josiah and Eldad, one was a lawyer, and the other a doctor. They were a talkin' about their examinations one night, at a hvj.skin' frolic, np to Governor Hall's big stone barn at Slickville. Says Josy, ' When I was examined, the Judge axed me all about real estate ; and, says ho, "Josiah," says he, "what's a fee?" ''Why," says I, " Judge, it depends on the natur of the case. In a common one," says I, " I call six dollars a pretty ut when the Guerriere was caj)tivated by our old Ironsivles, the Constitution, 1 did fool lifted uj) amost as high as a stalk of Varijinnv corn amou''- Connecticut middlins ; I ijrew two inches taller, I vow, the ni<»ht I heerd that news. 15rag. says I, is a .'^ood dog, but Holdfast is bettor. The liritish navids had been a braggiu' and a hectorin' so long, that when they landed in our cities they swaggered o'enamosc as much as Uncle Pel eg (big Pel eg 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 fingers of both hands agin the sliop windows on each side of the street. Many the poor feller's crupper bone he's tmashed, with his groat thick boots, a throwin' out his feet afore him e'enamost out of sight, when he was in full rig a swigglin' away at the top of his gait Well, thev cut as manv shines as Uncle Pelcij. One A CURE i'ijR CONCEIT. 171 (• hock they frigato they guessed would captivate, s'mU, or buni our whole navy. Says a naval, one (hiy, to the 8kij)|)er of a lisliiiif;' boat lliat he tooU, havs he, ' Js it true, (Joinniodore Decatur's s\yord is made of an ohl iron hoo[> ? ' ' W't;!!,' says tlie sUipper, ' I'm not quite certified as to tiiat, seein' as I never sot eyes on it; but I i,aiess if lie ijets a cliance he'll show you the temper of it sonu! of these days, anyhow.' ''I mind once a ilrilish man-o'-war took one oC our lioston vessels, and ordered all hands on board, uad sent a i)arty to scuttle her ; well, they scuttled the fowls and the old particular <^enuine rum, but they obliviated their arrand and left her. Well, next day anotluM* friijate (for they were as thick as toads arter a rain) comes near her, and fires a shot for her to brini»" to. No answer was madi', there bein' no livin' soul on I »ard, and another shot fired, still no answer. ' Why, what on airth is the me;',nin' of this ? ' said the captain ; ' why don't they haul down that damn goose and gridiron ? ' (That's what he called our eagle and stars on the flag.) 'Why,' says the first leftenant, ' I guess they are all dead men ; that shot frightened them to death.' ' They are afeared to show their noses,' says another, 'lest they should be shaved oif by our shots.' ' They are all down below a " calculatitc " their loss, I guess,' savs a third. ' Fll take mv 'daw,' savs the captain, ' it's some Yankee trick, — a torjjcdo in her bottom, or «ome such trap; we'll let her be;' and sure enough, next day, back she came to shore of herself. ' I'll m h ^^1 n 172 THE CL CKMA KEIi. ! k 1 • \, li give you a qiuirtcM- of an hour/ says tlie captain of the Guerricre to ills men, 'to talu; tliat 'ere Vaul" winter eveninjrs, and then a drivin' home like mad by moonlight. Natur' meant that season on purpose for courtin'. A little tidy scrumptious looking sleigh, a real clipper of a horse, a string of bells as long as a string of inions round his neck, and a sprig on his back, lookin' for all the world like a bunch of apples broke off at gatherin' time, and a sweetheart alongside, all muffled up but her 12 it; fl ■ I 111 t u m W: 178 THE CLOCKMAKER. \ i. II eyes and lips — the one lookin' right into you, and the other talkin' riglit at you — is e'enaniost enoug'* to drive one ravin', tarin', distracted mad with pleas nre, ain't it? And then the dear critters say th* bells make such a din, there's no licarin' one's self speak; so they put their pretty little mugs close u;* to your face, and talk, talk, talk, till one can't helf looking right at them instead of the horse, and ther whap you both go capsized into a snowdrift to<^{»lh.er skins, cushions, and all. And then to see the littl* critter shake herself when she gets up, like a duc^ landin' from a pond, a chatterin' away all the timtj like a canary bird, and you a haw-hawin' with pleas- ure, is fun alive, you may depend. In this way Bluenose gets led on to offer himself as a lovier, afore he knows where he bees. " But when he gets married, he recovers his eye si^ht in little less than half no time. He soon finds he'v treed ; his flint is fixed then, you may depend. She larns him how vinegar is made : ' Put plenty of sugar into the ivaler oforehand, my dear^ says she, ' if yov want to make it real sharp.* The larf is on the other side of his mouth then. If his sleigh gets upsot, it's no longer a funny matter, I tell you ; he catches it rijiht and left. Her eves d(m't look rio;ht up to his'n anv nore, nor her little ton"ue rinof, rinof rinjj, 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 ba^ of soiled cloth^'s aijoin' to the brook to be washed. When the^ get out, she don't THE BLOW IN' TIME. 179 helf ther ^1) ler miit any more for him to walk lock and lock with her, l)iit they march like a horse and a cow to water, one in each outter. If there ain't a transmoorifica- tion it's a pity. The difference atween a wife and a sweetheart is near about as ixreat as there is between new and hard cider: a man never tires of puttii\' one to his lip, and makes plaguy wry fiices at t'other. It makes me so kinder wamblecropt when I think or. it, that I'm afeared to venture on matrimony at all. I have seen some Bluenoses most properly bit, you may depend. You've seen a boy a slidin' on a most beautiful smooth bit of ice, hain't you, larfin', and h()o{)iir, and haliowin' like one possessed, when pres- ently souse he goes in over head and ears? How he outs, fins, and flops about, and blows like a por- poise properly frightened, don't he? and when he gets out, there he stands, all shiveriu' and shakin', and the water a squish-squashin' in his shoes, and his trousers all stickin' sliuisey-like to his legs. Well, he sneaks off home, lookin' like a fool, and thinkin' everybody he meets is a larfin' at him : many folks here are like that 'ere boy, afore they have been six months married. They'd be [)roper 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 particuitu'ly Ivell fitted. You've seen a voke of cattle that warn't ))roperly mated ? they spend more strength in pullin' iirin each other, than in pulliTi the load. Well, ■' \> if n 180 THE CLUCKMAKER. T is ihat's apt to be the case with them as choose their wives in siiMghin' p;irtit;s, quiltin' frolics, iiiul so oil, 'nstead of tiie dairies, looms, and cheese-house. "Now the Bluenoses nre all a stirrin' in winter The vounij folks drive out the i^ils, and talk h)ve and all j-orts of things as sweet as donj^hmits. Tlie old folks find it near about as well to leave the old woman to home, for fear they shouldn't ket^p tune toot out our firewood and rails. As soon as frost was i^one, came sowin' and plantin', weedin' and hoein' ; then harvest and sprcadin' compost ; then gatherin' manure, fenciu' and ditchin' ; and then turn tu and fall ploughin' ag'in. It all went round like a wheel without stoppiu', and so fast, I guess you couldn't see the spokes, just one long everlastin' stroke from July to etarnity, without time to look hack on the tracks. Instead of racin' over the country like a young doc- tor, to show how busy a mm is that has notion' to do, as liluenos-e does, and then take a 'blowin' time,' w" kept a rale travellin' sjait, an ei<:ht-mile-an-hour pace, the whole year round. Thej/ buy more nor they se/I, and eat more than thcj/ raise, in this country. What a pretty way that is, isn't it? If the critters knew how to cipher, they would soon find out that a sum stated that way alwavs eends in a nauoht. I nev^r knew it to fail, and I defy any soul to cipher it so as to make it come out any other way, either by Schoolmaster's Assistant or Aliijebra. When I was a boy, the Slickville Bank broke, and an awful dis- orderment it made, that's a fact: nothin' else was talked of Well, I studied it over a Ions time, but I couldn't, make it out : so says I, * Father, how camn that 'ere bank to break ? Warn't it well built ? . thought that 'ere Quincy granite was so aniazin THE BLOW IN' TIME. 183 «tronfr all natiir' wouhln't broak it.' ' Whv, vou foolish critter,' ,s:w.s he, 'it tiiin't the biiildin' that's broke, it's tlie consani that's smasiuHl.' ' Well,' says I, 'I know folios are pla<;iiily consanied a'joiit it, iMit what do you call folks' " smnshin' their consanis "?' Father, he larfed out like anvthini-- ; I thouiiht li9 never would stop ; and sister Sail i^ot rigbt up and walked out of the room, as mad its a hatter. Savs she, ' Sam, I do believe you are a born fool, I vow.' When father had done larhn', says he, • I'll tell you, Sam, how it was. They ciphered it so that they brouf Assend)ly and Council, and see to their farms, it would be better for 'em, I guess ; for arter all. what is it '<' Whv it's onlv a sort of first chop Grand Jury, and nothin' else. It's no more like Congress or Parliament, than Marm Pugvvash's Keepin' room is like our State hall. It's jist nothin'. Congress makes war and peace, has a say in all 184 THE clockmaki:r. If] •Si treaties, confanns all great nominations of the Presi- dent, re*rilates the army and navy, governs twenty- four iiidcpcimlcnt States, and snaps its fing(M-s in the face of all the nations of Knropc, as much as to say. Who be you? I allot I am as bijr as von be. If yon are six foot high, I am six foot six in my stoclcin' feet, by gum, and can lambaste; any two on you in no lime. The British ca!i whip all the world, and we can whip the liritish. But this little House of As- sembly that iblks make such a tonse 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 jTo home. The littler folks be, the biu^ixer they talk. You never seed a small man tiiat didn't wear hijxh heel boots, and a high crowned hat, and that warn't ready to fight 'most any one, to show he was a man every inch of him. " I met a member the other day, who swaggered near about as laruo as Uncle Pele«r. He looked as if he thought you couldn't find his 'ditto ' anywhere. He used some most particular educational words, genuine jaw-breakers. He put me in mind of a squiri'el I once shot in our wood location. The little critter got a hickory nut in his month ; well, he found it too hard to crack, and too big to swaller, und for the life and soul of him. he couldn't spit it >nt ag'in. If he didn't look like a nroper fool, you r THE BLOWIN' TIME. 185 If may depend. We had a pond back of our barn, about the bio;ncss of a <;()od sizable washtui), and it was chock full of frojjjs. ♦Veil, one of these litih; crilters fancied himself a bull-fro^;-, and he putlcd out his cheeks, and took a rael 'blowin' time ' of it ; he roared away like thunder; at last he pulTcd and pufted out till he bust like a biler. If J see the Speaker this winter (and [ shall see him to a sar- tainty if they don't send for him to London, to teach their new Speaker ; and he's up to snuff, that 'ere man ; he knows how to cipher), I'll jist say to him, ' Speaker,' says I, ' if any of your folks in the House go to swell out like dropsy, oive 'em a hint in time. Says you, If you have 'ere a little safety valve about you, let off a little steam now and then, or you'll go for it; recollect the Clockniaker's story of the ^ Blowin' time." " t f I' ■( it i CHAPTER XXIV. FATIIKU JOHN O SIIAUGIINKSSY. ' 'i liii; "To-morrow will be Sahbatli 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' be- fore 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 bijj brick buildins' look inehincholv. 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. T can't describe exactly what I mean, but I always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there. " Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be — a day of rest for man and beast from labor. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks out on the ftunny fields and wavin' croi)S, his heart feels proper grateful, and he says, Come, this is a sjtlendid day, nin'tit? let's get ready and put on onr bettermost ilose, and go to meetin*. His first thought is prayer lonji FATHER JOHN (/Sll AUCIISES.^Y. 187 fully to rciulor tliunks; aiul then wIkmi ho «;oes to worsliij) hu Muu'ts all Iiis m'i^hhors, and 1m; knows them all, and th(!y aro ;^hul to scl' each other, and if niiv two on 'em hain't exactly «j:ee'd toijether durin the week, why, they m(!et oti kind of nentral <;ronnd, and the minister or neii^hhors make peace atweei\ them, lint it ain't so in toNyns. Von don't know no «)ne you meet there. It's the worship of neiifhbors, but it's the worship of stranj^ers, too, for neii^hhors don't know nor can; about each other. Yes, I love a Sabbath in the country." While uttorinuf tiiis soliloquy, he took up a pam- phlet from the table, and turning to the titUspaoe. said, " Have you ever s(>en this here book on the * Elder Controversy'? (a controversy on tlu; subject of In- fant Baptism). This author's frjentls say it's a clincher; they say he has sealed up Eider's mouth us ti^ht as a bottle." '• No," said I, " I have not ; I have heard of it, but never read it. In my opinion ihe sui)ject has been exhausted already, and admits of nothiuL^ 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 en)braced several de- nomi tuitions in the dispute in this Province, and I hear the ajdtation has extended to New lirnnswick, where it will doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. f am told all the pamphlets are exceptionable in point of temper, and this one ir) particular, which \ \\ i ^1* 188 THE CLOCK MAKER. not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antugonist, but contiiins some very iinjiistiliuble and gratuitous attacks upon other sects unconnectc^d with the dispute. The author has injured his own cause, for an iiifeinperate advocate is wore dangerous than an openfoey " There is no dou])t on it," said the Clockmaker ; "it is as clear as mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. About the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic priest. I had met him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was a leijoin' jt off hot foot. ' Posyible ! ' says I, "■ Fathei John, is that you ? Why, what on airth is the matter of you ? what makes you in such an eveilastin' hurry, drivin' away like one ravin' distracted mad ? ' 'A sick visit,' says he ; 'poor Pat Lanigan, — him that you mind to Hradore Lake, — well, he's near about at the p'int of death.' ' I guess not,' said I, ' for 1 jist heard tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him up all standin', and he 'bouts ship in a jiify, and walks a little way with me, and we got a talkin' about tiiis very subject. Says he, ' What are you, jNIr. 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 s'ly, 1 hadn't ought to have axed that 'ere ques- tion at all, I guess, fori every man's religion is his Dwn, and nobody else's business.' ' Then,' says he, you know all about this country. Who does folks FATHER JOHN O'S/IAUGHNE.^.^Y. 18W I Bay had the best of the dispute ? ' Says T, ' Fatlier John, it's like the battles up to Cauada lines last war, eacii side claims victory; I \l > 192 THE CLOCKMAKER way," said tlio 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, rioht slap afore you ; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the i)ath, why then you must first put me out — that's a fact." The parson jist made a spring forrard and ketched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as if nothin' had happened — as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. " Stop," said the boxer, as soon as he picked himself up, '' stop Parson," said he, " that's a good man, and jist chuck over my horoe, too, will you, for 1 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 'ere a Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no time, as the parson did the boxer ; for wrlt'ivi! only aggravates your opponents^ and never convinces them. 1 never seed a convart made by that way yet ; but 111 tell you what I have seed: a man set his own flock a doiibtin'' by his own writin\ You may happify your enemies, can- ta?ikerate your opponents, and injure your own cause hy it, but 1 defy you to sarve it. These writers,' said A FATHER JOHN O'SHAUGIINESSY. 193 he, * put me in mind of that 'ere boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar; well, they'd put on their gloves, and begin, laifin' and jokin', all in good huuior. Presently one on 'em wouhl i)ut in a pretty hard blow ; well, t'other would return it in .airnest. '• O," says the other, 'Mf that's your jilay, off j>loves and at it ; " and sure enouirh, awav would fly their gloves, and a it they'd go, tooth and nail, "'No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to | think Seriptur' intended for our neighbors, and not for ourselves. The poor all think it made for the rich. " Look at that 'ere Dives," they say, " what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus ; and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that Ihem folks will find it as easv to ijo to heaven, as for a camel to sfo through the eve of a needle ? " AVell, then, the rich think it all made for the poor — that they shan't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to them that's in authority. And as for them 'ere Unitarians,' and he always got his dander up when he spoke of them, ' why, there's no doin' nothin' with them,' says he. ' When they get fairly stumped, and you produce a text that they can't get over, nor get round, why, they say, "It ain't in our version at all ; that's an interpolation, it's an inven- tion of them 'ere everlastin' monks ; " there's nothin' left for you to do with them, but to sarve them as Parson Possit detailed the boxer — lay right hold of 'em and chuck 'em over the fence, even if they were as bis: as all ont-do^rs. That's wdiat our folks 13 ^^1 194 THE CLOCKMAKER. : i ' ' i "!i; ought to have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the State, and let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for they ain't fit to live in no Christian country at all. " ' Fightin' is no way to make convarts ; the true way is to win *em. You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, ' by a crammin' a book down his throat, but vou won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write a book all covered over with Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, like a bridle that's real jam, all spangled with brass nails, but who knows whether it's right or wrong ? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had my religion to choose, and warn't able to judge for myself, I'll tell you what I'd do: I'd 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 wlio don't. It ain't them that makes the greatest professions always; and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a tradin' with your clocks away down East to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright look- out on them as cant too much, for a long face is vlagug apt to cover a long conscience — that's a feet.' " 1i J I'- CHAPTER XXV. TAMING A SIIllEW. The road from Amherst to Parrsboro' is tedious and uninteresting. In places it is made so straight that you can see several miles of it before yon, which produces an appearance of interminable length, while tlie stunted growth of the spruce and birch trees bespeaks a cold, thin soil, and invests the scene with a melancJipJ^y and sterile asj^ect. Here and there occurs a little valley, with its meandering stream, and verdant and fertile interval, which though possessing nothing peculiar to distinguish it from many others of the same kind, strikes the trav- eller as superior to them all, from the contrast to the surrounding country. One of these secluded spots attracted my attention, from the number and neat- ness of the buildings which its proprietor, a tanner and currier, had erected for the purposes of his trade. Mr. Slick said he knew him, and he guessed it was a pity he couldn't keep his wife in as good order as he did his factory. " They don't hitch their horses together well at all. He is properly henpecked," said he; ''he is afoard 196 THE CLOCKMAKER. 'f ■: It', if! M i !o call his soul his own, and he londs the life of a dog; you never seed tlie bent of it, I vow. Did you ive her a crack or two of th(? covvskin to ^et clear of her. It has elTcctuatcd a cure completely ; now toller it up, and don't let on for your life it warn't you that did it, and you'll be mas- ter once more; in your own house. She's all docity jlst now, — keep her so.' As we returned we saw a light in the keci)in' room, the fire was bla/in' up cheerfulsome, and Marm Porter moved about as brisk as a parcluHl pea, though as silent as dumb, and our supper was ready in no tinu;. As soon as she took her seat and sot down, she sj)runj; right u[) on eend, as if she sot on a pan of hot coals, and col- ored all over ; and then tears started in her eyes. Thinks I to myself, I calculate I wrote that 'ere les- son 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. Thcii she tried it ag'in ; first she sot on one leg, then on t'other, (piite oneasy. and then right atwi\t both, u ^d"ettin' about dreadfully ; like a man that's rode all day on a bad saddle, and lost ;i little leather on the way. If you had seed how she stared at Porter, it v4 THE CL CKMAKEli. 1 'i 'i > (i" \ <■' would have made you snicker. She couldn't credit her eyes, lie warn't drunk, and he warn't crazy, but there he sot as peeked and as nieechin' as you please. She seemed all struck up of a heap at h's rebellion. The next dav when 1 was about startm I advised him to act like a man, and keep tiie weather-gauge 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 con- fess all, and by all accounts he leads a worse life now than ever. I put that 'ere trick on him jist now to try him, and I see it's a 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 Bow'ry. You may depend, 'Squiie, the only way to tame a shrew is by the cowskin. Grandfather Slick was raised all ttlono' the coast of Kent in Old P^uijland, and he used to say tiiere was an old saying there, which, I expect, is not fur off Che mark : — f ' A woman, a dofr, and a walnut tree, The more you lick them the better they be.' " I k'"; H t credit crazy, as you ► at h''s startin ep tlie )e well ; wo, she n con- ife now now to n ; the ^vhistle lanced of my a fact, u. It II may ■ Js by id all 3 used xpect, CHAPTER XXVI. THK MINlSTKIl's HORN MUG. " Tins country," said Mr. Slick, " abounds in superior mill privileges, and one would naterally calcnlate that such a sight of vatcr power would have led to a knowiediie of machiuerv. I •I U fl '■I I'M if I i reckon ; there ain't a mill of any kind in tlie Prov« ince fit to be seen. If we had 'em, we'd sarve 'em as we do the gamblin' houses down South, — pull 'em rij^lit down; there wouldn't be one on 'em left in eiiiht and forty hours. '* Some domestic factories they ought to have here : it's an essential part of the social system. >»ow we've run to the other extreme ; it's got to be too big an interest with us, and ain't suited to the political institutions of our great country. Natur' designed us for an agricultural people, and our government was predicated on the supposition that we would be so. Mr. Hopewell was of the same opinion. He was a great hand at gardenin', or- chardin', farmin', and what not. One evenin' I was up to his house, and says he, ' Sam, what do you say to a bottle of my old genu?*«e cider .'' I guess I got some that will take the shine off of your fither's by a long chalk, much as the old gentlemen brags of his'n. I never bring it out afore him. He thinks he has the best in all Connecticut. It's an innocent ambition that ; and, Sam, it would be but a poor thing for me to gratify my pride at the expense of humblin' his'n. So I never lets on that I have any better, but keep dark about this superfine particular article of mine, for I'd as lives he'd think so as not.' He was a real })rimi^/re good man was minister. 'I got some,' said h(% ' that was bottled that very year that idorious action was fought atween the Conslitt'.- lion and the Guerriere. Perha[)s the whole woric •i ; t ! le ProV' irve 'em , — pull n left in ;o have system. )t to be to the Natur' nd our on that i sanie lin', or- ' I was ou say s I got er's by ags of thinks nocent I poor use of ie any ^icular s not.' r. 1 ,' year woiic THE MINISTER'S HORN MUG. '^05 30ulcln'l show such a brilliant whippin' as that was. It was a splendid deed, that's a fact. The British can whip the whole airtli. ami we can whip the British. It was a briirht promise for our voun*"- eagle: a uoble bird tliat, too — great stren<'th, oieat courage, and surpassing sagacity.' " Well, he went down to the cellar, and brought up a bottle, with a stick tir'l 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 'ere cob- webs,' says he, as he brushed 'em off, ' they are like gray hairs in an old man's head ; they indicate vener- able old age.' As he uncorked it, savs he, ' I 'rness, Sam, this will warm your gizzard, my boy ; I guess our great nation may be stumped to ijroduce more eleganter liquor than this here. It's the dandy, that's a fact. That,' said he, a smackin' his lips, and lookin' at it« sparklin' top, and layin' back his head, and tippin' off a horn mug brimful of it — 'that,' said he, and his eyes twinkled ag'in, for it was phioiiy strong — 'that is the produce of my own orchard.' ' Well,' I said, ' minister,' says I, ' I never see you a swigoin' it out of that 'ere horn muir. 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 risjhteous man shall be exalted;" I iiuess that's what they mean by'-exaltin' the horn." ain't *t ? ' Lord, if ever you was to New Oileens, and $eed a black thundercloud rise right up and covei fl 206 THE CLOCKMAKER. $■■-■ m i; !;^ 'F if ■ I ■ i 1 ■'; ■ ■ ' 4h ■fr .«;|^f h the whole sky in a minit, you'd a thought of it if you had seed his face. It looked as dark as Egypt ' For shame ! ' says he, ' Sam, that's ondecent ; and let me tell you that a man that jokes on such sub- jects, 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 innoceut to please nie ; and when 1 see a Juan 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 cor- rupt our youth of both sexes, aud become hotbeds of iniquity. Evil communications endamnify good manners, as sure as rates ; one scabby sheep will in- fect a whole flock ; vice is as catchin' as that nasty disease the Scotch have, it's got by shakin' hands, and both eend in the same way — in brimstone. I approbate domestic factories, but nothin' further for us. It don't suit us or our institutions. A republic is only calculated for an enlightened and vartuous people, and folks chiefly in the farmin' line. That is an innocent and a happy vocation. Agriculture was ordained by Him as made us, for our chief oc- cupation.' "Thinks I, here's a pretty how do you do ; I'm in for it now, that's a fact; he'll jist fall to and read a regular sarmon, and he knows so many by heart he'll never stop. It would take a Philadelphia iiwyer to answer him. So, says I, ' Minister, I ax your pardon ; I feel very ugly at bavin' given you ' I :ii-i THE MlNlSTElVii HORN MUG. 207 it if you s Egypt, ent ; and iich sub- ). I like isces and irth must ie a man iowii as a ilatin' to will cor- hotbeds lify good p will in- lat nasty n' hands, >t()ne. I rtlier for republic vartuous e. That riculture chief oc- I ; I'm in d read a by heart adelphia ter, I ax iven you oflTense, but I didn't mean it, T do assure you. It jist popped out unex|)ectedly, like a cork out of one of them 'ere cider bottles. I'll do my possibles that the like don't happen ag'in, you may depend ; so 'spose we drink a glass to our reconciliation.' ' That 1 will,' said he, ' and we will have another bottle too, but I must put a little water into mt/ (/lass (and he dwelt on that word, and looked at me, quite feelin', as much as to say. Don't for goodness' sake make use of that are word horn ag'in, for it's a joke I don't like), ' for my head han't quite the strength my cider has. Taste this, 8am,' said he (openin' of another bottle) ; ' it's of the same age as the last, but made of different apples, and I am fairly stumped some- times to say which is best.' •• ' These are the pleasures,' says he, ' of a country life. A man's own labor provides him with food, and an appetite to enjoy it. Let him look which way he will, and he sees the goodness and bounty of his Creator, his wisdom, his power, and his majesty. There never was anything so true, as that 'ere old sayin', ''Man made the town, but God made the country," and both bespeak their different archi- tects in terms too plain to be .misunderstood. The one is filled with virtue, and the other with vice. One is the abode of plenty, and the other of want: one is a ware-duck of nice pure water, and t'other one a cess-pool. Our towns are gettin' so coinmer- rial and flic tori ng, that they will soon generate mobs, Sam ' (how true that 'ere has turned out, hain't it 208 THE CLOCKMAKER. ■' 'I I i. 1 ■; '■ '^: t 1^ i ; . ■ < : ' i^ t % i '{I »"^ H He could see near about as far into a millstone aJ» them that picks the hole into it), ' and mobs will in- troduce disobedience and defiance to laws, and tliat must eend in anarchy and bloodshed. No,' said the old man, raisino- his voice, and giving the tuble a wipe with his fist that made the glasses all jingle ag'in, ' give me the country — that country to which lie that made it said, " Bring forth grass, the herb yieldin'seed, and the tree yieldin' fruit," and who saw it that it was good. Let me jine with the feathered tribe in the mornin' (I hope you get up airly now, Sam ; when you was a boy there was no gittin' y( u out of bed at no rate) and at sunset, in tiie 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 oood things, for the numerous blessings I enjoy, and Intreat Him to bless my increase, that I may have wherewitiial 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 oflf considerable stiff at first, but when he once got under way, he got on like a house afire. lie went like the wind, full split. He was jist beginnin' to warm on the sul)ject, and I knew if he did, what wonderful bottom he had ; how he would hauij on forever a'most ; so says I, ' I think 80 too, Minister ; I like the country ; I always sleep better there Chan in towns ; it ain't so plaguy hot, nor so noisy neither; and then it's a pleasant thing to et out on the stoop and smoke iii the cool, ain't .1 THE MINISTER'S HORN MUG. 209 Istone aj» • will in- aiul that said the tiible a 11 jingle ;o which lie herb who saw withered i"Iy now, :tin' y( u i hymns Creator, t to the lessinjjs }, that I i* others, me the rse that at first, 1 like a it. He , and I '\ ; how I think s sleep iiy hot, t thiiiff il, ain't it? I think,' says I, ' too, IMinister, that 'ere uncom- mon handsuni cider of yoiu'n desarves a i)ii)e; what do you think?' ' Well,' says he, *I think nivself a pipe wouldn't be amiss, and I got some raei good Varginny as you e'enamost ever seed, a present from Rowland Randolph, an old college chum; and none the worse to my palate, Sam, f(U' brinj-in' bvnh/ tiro f/n'/n/s/Sfpn're worth lookin at in a horse, action and sounf/ncss ; for [never saio a critter that had good action that iras a had hcdst. Old Clay i)uts me in n)ind of one of our free and eidightened " — " Excuse me," said I, " iMr. Slick, bnt really you appropriate that word ' {vv.q ' to yonr countrymen, as if you thought no other ])eop]e in the world were entitled to it bnt yourselves." " Neither be thev," said he. " We first sot the example. Look at our Declaration of Independence. It was writ by Jefferson, and he was the first man of the age ; perhaps the world never seed his ditto. It's a beautiful })iece of penmanship that; he gave the l^ritish the but-eend of his mind tliere. I cal- culate you couldn't fault it in no particular ; its gen- erally allowed to be his cap-sheaf. 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 somethin' to chaw on, he hadn't been used to the flavor 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 THE WHITE NIGGER. 2l0 Tlion nr flop- ilf pins, • at tlu^ ;i horse 'ss ; for t was a I of our illy you men, as d were •>ot the idence. man of ditto, e gave I cal- ts gen- st page words : II men led his ) chaw ng-iieeled, woolly-headed gentlemen don't seem fit for much else but slavery, I do suppose ; they ain't fit to contrive for themselves. Tliey are just like grasshoppers ; they dance and sing all sum- mer, and when winter comes they have nothin' pro- vided for it, and lay down and die. They re(piire some one to see arter them. Now, we deal in black niggers only, but the l>luenoses sell their own spe- cies — they trade in white slaves." *' Thank God ! " said T, " 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 tri- um})h, "it ain't done with in Nova Scotia, for I have seed these human cattle sales with my own eyes ; I was availed of the truth of it up here to old i'm-long's last November. I'll tell you tin? ^^tory," said he ; and as this story of the Clockmaker's contained some 216 THE CLOCKMAKER. rV if lit i^i e^Tt^-aoidinary statements whicli T had never heard of before, I noted it in my journal, for tlie purpose of ascertaining their truth ; and, if founded on fact, of hiving Hiem before tlie proper authorities. " Last fall," said he, " I was on my way to Par- tridge Island, to shif off some truck and produce I had taken in, in the way of trade ; and as I neared old Furlong's house, I seed an amazin' crowd of folks about the door; I said to myself, says I, Who's dead, and what's to pay now ? what on airth is the meanin' 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 wiggle my way through the crowd, and get into the house. And when I did, who should I see but Dea- con Westfall, a smooth-faced, slick-haired, meechin' lookin' chap as you'd see in a hundred, a standin' on a stool, with an auctioneer s hannner in his hand ; and afore him was one Jerry Oaks and liis wife, and two little orphan children, the prettiest little toads I ever beheld in all my born days. ' Gentlemen,' said he, ' I will begin the sale by putting 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 pigs ; 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 yoi: p«». ._ THE WHITE SIGGER. 217 T heard purpose on fact, to Par- roduce I neared rowd of [, Who's h is tho ddin', or X is it? le fence, able to into tlie )ut Dea- neeciiin' ndin* on s hand ; ife, and toads I en,' said ■y Oaks, art !iian feed in' it worth ind and lan, ' for [)th ^o.eX, hen voi: ttre as old as I be,' says Jerry, ' mayhan yon may be foundered too, youn^; man ; I have sien the (hiy when you woul(hi't dare to pass that joke on ine, bi<^ as }ou be.' ' Will any gentleman bill ibr him,' bays the Deacon, ' he's cheap at 1$. Or/.' ' Why Deacon,' said Jerry, ' why surely your honor isn't agoin' for to sell me separate from my poor old wile, are you ? Fifty years have we lived together as n.^-.n and wife, and a j^ood wife has she been to me, throuiili all my tronbles and trials, and God knows I have had enough of 'em. No one knows mv wavs and mv ailments but her; and who can tend me so kind, or who will bear with the 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 ^^w days to live now, death will divide us soon enough. Leave her to close my old eves, when the stiii", \n Barce jjeiitlemen strive who ciui Qfot the furde.->t iB the sky, away from their farms. In >«e\v England our maxim is a small house, and a most an ever- histin' almighty big barn ; but these critters revarse it; tliey have little hovels for their cattle, about the bigness ol' a good sizable bear trap, and a house for the humans as grand as Noah's Ark. AVell, jist look at it and see what a fiiiur' it does cut. iVn 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 i^^ bieeches, 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 toted out of this room and tubs set in t'other to catch soft water to wash ; while the clapboards, loose at the eends, go clap, clap, clap, like gals a hacklin' flax, and the winders and doors keep a dancin' to the nuisic. 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 darned if I don't, for if I h;id I'd fix them 'ere clapboards ; I guess they'll go for it some o' these days.' ' 1 wish you had,' his wife would say, ' for they do make a most particular unhansum clatter, that's a fact;' and so they let it be till the next tempestical time comes, and then they wish ag'in. Now, this grand FIRE IN Till:: DAIRY. irde.-jt in England in ever- revarse joiit the ouse for jist look old hat flannel tiish off Dad of a e eend, t of the hovv-do- oin and ; while ip, clap, d doors )laco in 16 folks vL'tis do matter the old rned if irds ; I 1 wish nake a fact ; ' d time grand housd has only two rooms down-stairs that arc alto- gether slicked up and finished ofl' complete; tlie other is jist petitioned olf rouuii like, one half great dark entries, and t'other half places that look a plaguy sight more like p:»ekin' boxes than roouis. Well, all up-stairs is a great onfiruished place, fdled with every sort of good-for-nothin' trumpery in natur' — barrels wilhout eeuds ; corn-cobs half husked; cast-off clothes and biis of old harness; sheep-skins, hides, and wool ; ap|)les, one half rotten, and t'other half squashed ; a thousand or two of shingles that have bust their withes, and broke loose all over the floor; hay rakes, forks, and sickles, without handles or teeth ; rustv scythes, and odds and eends without number. When an\thiii<'^ is wanted, then there is a general overhaul of the whole cargo, and away they get shifted foi rard, one by one, all handled over and chucked into a lieap together till the lost one is foimd ; and the next time, away they get pitched to the starn ag'in, higgK;ty pigglety, Ijeels over head, like sheep takin' a split for it over a wall ; only they increase in number each move, i^ause some on 'em are sure to get broke into more pieces than there was afore. Whenever I see one •jf these grand houses, and a hat lookin' out o' the winder with nary head in it, think 1. I'll be- darned if that's a place for a wooden clock. — nothin' short of a London touch would <:"o down with them folks, BO I calculate I won't ali<»ht. Whenever you come to such a grand place as i 224 THE CLOCKMAKER. 111 % » I li * ii^ J, >?' this, 'Squire, dcponcl on't the firm is nil of a piet!** great crops of thistles, and an everlastin' yield of weeds, and catthj the best fed of any in the country, for they are al./.tys in tlui grain fields or niowiu' lands, and the pigs a rootin' in the potato i)atches. 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 wrack of a hay wagon, with its tongue on- hitched, and stickin' out behind, like a pig's t;>il, all indicate a biht down, rainin' cats and do^s, and as dark as Kg}pt; so. thinks I, I'll jist turn in here for shelter to 'Squire Bill JJIake's. Well, I knocks iiway at the front door, till I thought I'd a split it in ; but arter a rappin' awhile to no purpose, and iindin' no one come, I gropes my way roiind to the back door, and opens it, and feelin' all along the partition for the latch of tne keepin' room, without finding it, I knocks ag'in, when some one from inside cal!> out 'Walk!' Thinks I, I don't clcv.'rjy know whether that indicates 'walk in, or 'walk out;' its plaguy short uietre, that's a fact ; but I'll soe anyhctw. Well, arter gropin' about awhile, at !ast I got hold of the string and lifted the latch and walked in, and If hold FIRE IN rut: DAIRY. 225 there sot old ^larm Fjlako, close into one corner of the ch'iiibley firephice, a seesawin' in :i rocUin* chair, ftnd a lialf grown black liousc-helj), halt' asleep in t'other corner, a scrondgin' np over the embers. 'Who be you?' said iMarin lilake, * for 1 can't see you.' * A stranger,' said I. ' Beck ! ' says she, speak- in' to the bhick heifer in the corner, ' lieck ! ' says she ag'in, raisin' her voice, ' I beheve you are as def as a post ; get up this minit and stir the coals, till I see tlic man.' Arter the coals were stirred into a blaze, the old lady surveyed me from head to foot ; then she axed me my name, and where I came from, where I was agoin', and what my business was. ' I guess,' said she, '>ou must be reasonable wet; sit to the fire and dry yourself, or mayhap your health may be endamnified p'r'aps.' " So I sot down, and we soon got pretty consider- ably well acquainted, and quite sociable like, and her tongue, when it fairly waked up, began to run like a mill-race when the gate's up. I hadn't boon talkin' lonor, 'fore I well nioh lost sio^ht of her altogether ao-'in, for little Beck beiian to flourish about her broom, ri<>ht and left in ij^reat style, a clearin' np. and fihe did raise such an awful thick cloud o' dust, I didn't know if I should ever see y,v breathe either a"'in. Well, when all was sot to rights and the Hre made \ip, the old lady began to apologize for bavin' no candles ; she said she'd had a gran. I tea-party the night afore, and used them all up. and a whole siglit of vittles too; the old m;ni Ivuln't been wt'll since ]5 ■tv 226 THE CLOCKMAKI'n. and had gone to bed airly. ' But,' siiys she, ♦ T do wish with all my heart you had a come last nij^ht, for we had a most a special supper, — puiikin pies and doughnuts, and apple-sarce, and a roast goose stuflTed with Indian puddin', and a [)ig's harslet stewed in molasses and onions, and I d(m'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 upper- crust, real 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 theni laid open powerfully. I hain't been fairly lifted up since that good man Judas Oglethrop travelled this road.' and then she gave a croan and hunu down her head, and looked corner- ways, to see how the Innd lay thereabouts. The tea- kettle was accordin, for the of blue no lit, as em (for jot, and objects on the al ways Sp.muel Sam ? ' Lords,* talent, ither, I which as the g'in, be . is, for i e'ena- e now, it will ow the ij^land, Island, r here nee of is iiitc his orchard, I'm done for ; I'll have to give him the dodge somehow or anoLhur, through some hole in the fence, that's a fact; but he passed on that time). ' So it is,' said he, • witli constitiilions ; our'n will gradually approximate to their'n, and their'n to our'n. As they lose their strength of executive, they will varge to r('[)ublieanism, 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 ihe better; but I fear we shall have fevers and convul- sion-fits, and colics, and an everlastin' gri[)in' of the intestines first; you and I won't live to see it, Sam, but our posteriors will, you may depend.' "I don't «>() the whoU? Ii«iur' with minister," said the ClocUnjidxcr, " but 1 do o[)ii;ionate with him in part. In our business relations we l>elie our polit- ical principles; we s:iy every mnn is e(pial in the Union, and should have an equal vote and voice in the government; but in our Ijanks, Railroad Com- panies, Factory Corporations, and so on, every man's vote is regilated by his share and j)roportion of stock ; and il' it warift so. no man would Uikr. hold on these things at all. ''Xatur' ordained it s( : a father of a funily is head, and rules supreme in hi> household ; i;is el.l- est son and darter are like iirsl K ficnants under iiun. ind then there is an overseer (ucr the niggers; it K'ould not do for all lo be equal iln it. So i' is in M i 236 THE CLOCKMAKER. % ^ fi^ the univarse, it is ruled by one Superior Power ; if all the nn'jols had a voice in the frovoruMient J guess" — Here I fell fa;>t asleep; I had been nod- <\'n g for some time, not in approbation of what ho said, but in heaviness of slumber, for I had never before heard him so prosy since 1 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 way eyes, and opening them in time to see the last muscular spasnis of tlio decapitated body; ''true, ^Ir. Slick, it is a h!ii'{>y iliustiation of our previous conversation — a Oou'y without a head'^ r7y\ hi .' CITIPTFR XXX. A TALF, !F il! "KERS HILL. Mr. Slick, like all jiis couiiL-ymen whom I have seon, felt that his own existence was involved in that of the Constitntion of the United States, and that it was his dnty to nphold it upon all occasions. He affected to consider its government and its institu- tions as perfect, and if any doubt was su^y^ested as to the stal)iritv or character of eitiier, would make the common reply of all Americans, " I guess you don't understand us," or else enter into a labored defense. Wiien left, however, to the frf^e expression of his own tliou<>hts, he would often iiive utterance to those api)rehensions which most men feel \n the event of an experiment not yet faiily tried, and which has in many i)arts evidently disappointed the san- guine hopes of its friends. IJut, even on these oc- vasions, when his vigilance seemed to slumber, he would generally cover them, by giving them as the remarks of others, or conceulinir ihem in a tale. It was this habit that i-ave his discourse rather the at)- pearance of thinking aloud tlian a connected conver bation. A J ALE OF BUNKER'S UlLL. 2:39 I I have ! in that 1 that it IS. He institii- 'stecl as 1 make ?ss vou V labored ressioii te ranee I in tlie I which le san- ose oc- )er, he as the le. It iu; aj)- onver *' We are a great nation, 'Squire," he said, " that's ti?r'Lain ; but I'm afe^.d we didn't aito'H'tlier start riulit. It's in [i)Iitics as in racui', evervthinLj de. p uds upon .1 fair start. If yoi. are off too quick, you h,. ve to pull up and turn buck a^'in, and your beast gets out of v'in^' and is bullied; and if you lose in the start you hain't got a lair chance arterwards, and are plaguy apt to be jockeyed in tiie course. When we set up housekeepin', as it were, for ourselves, we hated our stepmother, Old England, so dreadful bad, we wouldn't foller any of her ways of UKinagin' at al'. but made new receij)ts for ourselves. Well, se missed it in many things most consumedly, sou>eho\v or another. Did you ever see," said he, " a coti':"e- gation split right in two by a quarrel, and one par;, go off and set up for themselves ? " " I am sorrv to sav," said I, " that 1 have seen some melancholy instances of the kind." " Well, they shoot ahead, or dr(»|> astern, as the case may be, but they soon get on another tack, and leave the old siiip clean out of sight. W'len folks once take to em"gratiu' in religion in this way. they never know where to bide. First they try one loca- tion, and then they try another; some settle here, and some improve there, l)ut they dou't hitch their horses together long. Somesiines they complain thev hitre fu» littlr water, at otle-r times that they have too mitvli ; ihev aie' never satisfied, and. wher- ever these sei)aratists go. tlu'v onseltle others as bad us themselves. J n^rcr look on a dcsurttr us ort/ i t si. ni\ cs. 240 THE CLOCKMAKEli. il il *' My poor futlier used to siiy, * Sacii, mind vvliat I tell you: if a uiau dt)irt a^ree in all partit ulars with Ills church, and can't go the whole hog with 'em, he ain't justified on that account, nohow, to separate froui them, for, Sam, '• Schism is a sin in the ci/e of Goii" 'JMie whole Christian world,' he would say, 'is divided iulo two iircnt families, the Catholic and Protestant. Well, the Catholic is a united family, a happy family, and a strong family, all governed hy one head ; and Sam, as sure as eggs is eggs, that 'ere family will grub out t'other one, stalU, branch, and root; it won't so much as leave the seed of it in the ground, to grow by chance as a natural curios- ity. 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'. lUit, when all lyin' loose as it always is, jist look at it, and see what a sight it is : all blowin' about by every wind of doctrine, some away up e'enamost out of sight, others rollin' over and over in the dirt, some split to pieces, and others so warped by the wenther and cracked bv the sun — no two of "em will lie so as to make a close jint. They are all divided into sects, railin', quarrelin', separatin', and agreein' in nothing' 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 tiuin up tight, and condemn 'em as fit for nolhin' under A TALK OF DUyKICR'S II ILL. 241 1(1 what I liars with h 'cm, he separate Ite ej/e of )iilcl say, lolic and iainilv, a 'rued by ,^i;s, that branch, I of it in curios- indle of which it IK) o^reat p under '. liut, t it, and y every out of t, some ^veather 1 lie so ed into •ein' in ) think i oilicer, witli his sword drawn, was leadini; on his men, and eneourajiin' them to the charge. I could see Ids features ; he was a rael haudsum man : I can see liim now with his white brceclies and black <^aiters, and red coat, and three- cornered cocked hat, as plain as if it was yesterday instead of the year 'TT). Well, I took a steady aim at him, and fired. Me didn't move for a space, and I thought I iiad missed him, when all of a sudd(;n he sprung right straight up on eend, his sword slipped through his hands up to the pint, and then he fell flat on his face atop of the blade, and it came straight out throuiih his back. He was fairlv skivered. I never seed anvthinix so awful since I was raised; I actilly screamed out with horror ; and I threw away my gun and joined them that were retreatin' over the neck to Charlcstown. Sam, that 'ere British officer, If our rebellion was onjust or onlawful, wa^ murdered, that's a fact ; and the idee, now I au' growin' old, haunts me day and night. Sometimes 1 begin with the Stamp Act, and 1 go over all or.r grievances, one by one, and say. Ain't they a suffi- cient justification ? Well, it makes a long list, and I get kinder satisfied, and it appears as clear as any- thing. But sometimes there come doubts in my mind, jist like a guest that's not invited or not ex- pected, and takes you at a short like, and I say Warn't the Stamp Act repealed, and concessicuis A TALE OF bUNKKU'S llllj,. 242 second r<' close VII, was to the a \"M'\ s wliite 1 three- stLMtlay (ly aim ce, and (1(M) lie slipped >e fell itraiiihi red. J ised ; I IV away ii' over IJrilish 111, wav I air Limes I ill OCT a siiffi- , and I s aiiy- in my lot ex- I say sssions made, and warn't ofTcrs sent to settle all fairly? and J ujet tr()iii)ie(l and oncasv a^'in. And tlieii I s;iv to myselt', says I, () ves, hut tliem oinis came too 1 ite. I do nolhin' now, wlu-ii I am alone, but arnia? it over and over a;:,^'in. I actilly dream on that man in inv sleep sometimes, and lluMi I see him as plain as if he was afore me ; and I ^o over it all :ii^'in till I come to that 'ere shot, and then I le:ip ri!;ht up in bed and scream like* all ven<^(?ance, and yonr mother, poor old critter, says, ''Sam," says she, "what on airth ails yon, to make yon act so like Old Scratch in yonr sleej) ? I do believe there's somethin' or another on vonr conscience." And \ sav, " PoUv, dear, I oiiess we're a iioin' to have rain, for that pla^ny cute ihenmatiz has seized my foot, and it does antagonize me so I have no peace. It always does so when it's like for a chan^H!." " Dear heart," she says (the poor simple critter), "then I guess I had better rub it, hadn't I, Sam?" and she crawls out of bed and gets her red flannel petticoat, and rubs away at my foot ever so long. O, Sam, if she could rub it out of my heart as easy as slu; thinks she rubs it out of niy foot, I should he in peace, that's a fact. "' What's done, Sam, can't be helped, there is no use in cryin' o\( '• s])ilt milk, but still one lan't help a thinkin' on it. lUit I don't love schisms, and 1 don't love rebellion. "'Our Revolution has made us grow fluster and jrrow richer; hut, Sam, wht>n we were younger an J i| i 244 THE CL CKMAKER. 't» poorer, we were more pious and iroro liappy. We have nothin' fixed, either in r('li^i()ll or politics. What connection tliere on^ht to h(\ atween Church ind State, I am not availed, but some there otiLilit to be, as sure as tiie Lord made Moses. Keli^ion, when left to itself, as with us, i^rows too rank and luxuriant. Suckers and sprouts, imd intersectinv shoots, and superfluous wood, make a nice shady ♦ ree to look at, Lut wheie's the fruit, San* ? that's .he question — where's the fruit ? No ; the pride of human wisdom, and the presumption it breeds will ruinate us. Jefierson was an infidel, and avowed it, and gloried in it, and called it the enlightenment of the aue. Cambridge Colleritish ofiicer's flint for oim, for he'd a died of himself l)y this time, I do suppose, if he had a missed his shot at him. /^'r'aps we mi;>ht have done a little better, and p'r'aps we ly. We politics. Cluircli );ianks, ered all I they'll jiosteri- GULUyr. A BLUENOSE. 247 ors arter you. Rii.shiiur', and ril lead on the small hui patriotic hand; Til jmt the big wigs through tlu^ir facms, Til make em shake in their siioes, I'll knock olT your chains and make you free.' Well, th(! goneys fall tu and elect him, and he desarts right away, wiih balls, litle, powder, horn, and all. JIc prDniised too murh. "Then comes a rael good man, and an evedastin' fine })reacher, a most a special spiritual man ; r(^ nounces ihv. 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 bn^ad — all self- denial, mortifvin' the flesh. \\'e]!, as soon as he can work it, he marries the richest gal in all his flock, and then his bread is buttered on both sides. He proiiiiscd too much. "Then comes a doctor, and a prime article he is, too. Vl've iiot,' savs he, 'a screw aui^er emetic and hot crop, and if I can't curt; all sorts o' things in natur' my name ain't Quack.' Well, he tmns siom- ach and pocket both inside out, and leaves poor IMuenose — a dead man. He pro/niscf/ too lUKch. "Then comes a lawyer, an honest lawver too, a rael wonder under the sun. as straight as a shinnle in all his dealins, lie's so honest he can't bear to hear a'll of other lawyers ; h<> writes a^in "em. raves agin 'em, votes agin 'em; they are all rogues but him. He's jist the man to take a case in hand, h . 248 THE CLOCKMAKER. II 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. "Then cojues a Yankee clockniaker" (and here INIr. Slick looked up and smiled), "with his 'soft sawder,' and " human natur',' and he sells clocks warranted to run from July to Krarnity, stoppages included, and I must sav thcv do run as lonu as — as loniif as wooden clocks commoidy do, that's a fact. But I'll show you presently how I put the leake into *em, for here's a feller a lit'le bit aiiead on us, whose flint I've made up my mind to fix this while past," Here we were nearly thrown out of the wai^on bv the breaking down of one of those small wooden bridges, which prove so annoviuLT and so dangerous to travellers. '• Did you hear that 'ere snap?" said he ; " well, as sure as fate, I'll break my clocks over them 'ere etarnal log bridges, if Old ('lay clips over them arterthat fashion. Them 'eie poles are i)laguy Vreacherous ; thev are iist like old Marm Patience Doesixood's teeth, tliat keeps the great Uniu^d Inde- pendent Democratic Hotel at Squaw Neck Creek, in jMassachusetts, — 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 vm, but I've got u few left for other folks yet. Now there i*-^ i man on this road, one Zcb Allen, a rae', genn/z/c skinflint, a pioper close-fisted cnsiomer GUIJANG A BLL'EM)SE. •249 as you'll a'inost see iinywlu»re, and one llial's not alt()<;etl)er the straip^lu tiling in his dealin' lu'lthvir. lie don't want no one to live hut hiinsclt •. uid he's niijihty luindsiini to uie, — savin' niv clocks are all a cheat, and that we ruinate the country, a drainin' ever}' dro}) of money out ol'it, a eallin' me a Y.iid<(e broom, and what not. lint it ain't all jist i^ospel that he says. Now I'll put a cl<»cl< on him aforr lie knows it ; I'll i:;o ri^ht into him as sliik as a whi^'le, and play him to the eend of my line like a I rout. I'll have a hook in his oilU. while he's a thinkiu' he's only smcllin' at the bait. There he; is now. Ill lie darned if \a\ ain't, stanc 'n' afore his shop door, lookin* as stron*;- as hi<;h pi M)f damaikv : I <4uess I'll whip out of the hnnn while he's a lookin' arter the spicket, and p'r'aps he'll be none o' the wiser till he linds it out, neither." " Well. 'S^piire, how do you do," said he ; " how's all at home ? " " Heasonahle well, I give you thanks, won't you ali.^ht?" " Can't to-dav," said Air. Slick, " I'm in a consider- able of a hurry to ketch the packet ; have you an> conunands for Sou'west ? I'm «j;oin' to the Islanv." "*Most time," said the other, laughing, "for by all accounts the clocks warn't worth havin', and most infarnal dear too ; folks begin to get their eyes open." " It wai n't needed in your case," said Mr. Slick, with that peculiarly composed manner that indicates suppressed feeling, " for you were always wide awake ; if all the folks had cut tlieir eyeteeth 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, thiowing dowLi his reins, and afft'Cting a most con- fidential tone, " I felt almost ashamed of them my- self, 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 shippin' and not for home use. I was all struck up of a heap, when 1 seed the last lot I got from the Slates ; I was prop- erly bit by them, you may dv'pcnd — they didn't [fiy cost; for I couldn't recommend tiiem with a clear conscience, and I must say 1 do like a fair deal, for Tm straight up and down, and love to go right ahead GULLING A BLUENOSE. 251 n," said parts ; niiicl at I talk IOC." r by all d most ir eyes . Slick, idicates s wide 3eth as sold in Squire, worth aid he, >st con- ;m niy- atter is i^a(hivs, nd not . when s prop- n't [ffty I clear 3al, for ahead that's a fact. Did yon ever see them I fetched when I first came, them I sold over the Bay ?" "No,' said Mr. Allen, '• 1 can't say 1 did." "Well," continued he, '' thev loere 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 y* u want a clock, and can lay your hands on one of tliem, 1 advise you not to let ffo the chance ; you'll know 'em bv the • Lowell ' mark, for thev were all .iiade at Judj^e Beler's lac- tory. 'Squire She()0(ly, down to Five Islands, axed nie to get liim 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 ary half-dozen in these parts, let t'others be whc;. tley may. If I could a got supplied with the like o' iliem, T could a made a grand spec out of them, for they took at once, and went oli' quick." " Have you got it with you?" said Mr. Allen, " I should like to see it." " Yes, 1 have it here, all done up in tow, as snug as a bird's egg, to keep it from jarrin', for it hurts 'em consumedly to jolt 'em over them 'ere etariial wooden bridges. Uut 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 anoliier for twenty dollars. The vnly one that I know of that there's any chance of gettin', is one that Increase Orane has up to Wilmot ;hey say he's a sellin' off." 252 THE CLOCKMAKEIi. After 11 good deal of persuiisioii, Mr. Slick uii" packed the clock, but protested agiunst iiis askin;^ for it, for it was not lor sale. It was then exhibiled, every part explained and praised, as new in inven- tion and perfect in workmanship. >«'ow Mr. Allen had a very 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 supe rior cpiality, he oilered to take it at th^ price the 'Squire was to have it, at seven pounds ten shillings. But Mr. Slick vowed he couldn't part with it at no rate, he didn't know where he could get the like ngain (for he warn't quite sure about increase Crane's), and the 'Stpiire would be confounded dis- appointed ; he couldn't think of it. In proportion to the difficulties, rose the ardor of Mr. Allen : his offers advanced to £8, to -£8 1U*\, to £9. " I vow," said Mr. Slick, " 1 wish I hadn't let on ..hat I had it i; all. I don't like to refuse you, but where am I to get the like?" After nuich discus- sion 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 us fair as a bootjack. " Now," said Mr. Slick, as we proceeded on our way, '• that 'ere feller is properly sarved ; he got the most inferior article I had, and I jist doubled the GULLISG A lUAlENOSE. 253 ick uii- askiiijr libiletl, i II veil - Alleu s taste, rtas tlie h supe ice the ullinijs. it at no le liiie icrease ed (lis- poition n ; his let on DU, but disciis- rt with utance, t, cost iiotlier, pe out n, and >n our ;()t the ;d the price on him. It's a pitv he should be a tellin' of lies of the yanlanies, make l)riil«»;e.s, facilitate conveyance, and above all thiniijs make a railroad from WinJsoi to Halifax; and nund what I tell you now, — write It down for fear you should forj^et 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 ^um, — Oiu such work as the Windsor Jiridtje is worth all your laws, voteSy speeches, and resolutions, for the last ten years, if tied up and put into a meal-bag together. If it ain't, I hope 1 may be shot ! ** »T» )(!n the icorpo- cvance, - write a fact ; you flo, — Gnu all your last ten ler, Jf CIIAITKR XXXII. TOO MANY IRONS IN TIIK FIUK. We had a pleasant sail of tlirco hours from Parrs- boro' to Windsor. The arrivals and departures by water are rcj^ailatcd at this place i)y the tide, and it was sunset before we reaciuMl Mrs. Wilcox's com- fortable inn. Here, as at other places, Mr. Slick seemed to l)e perfectly at home ; and he pointrd to a wooden clock, as a proof of his successful and ex- tended trade, and <)f tin; universal influence of "soil sawder," and a knowledire of" human nutur'." Tak- in«^ out a penknife, he cut of!' a splinter from a stick of firewood, and balanciniiC hin>self on one leuj of his chair, by the aid of his ri^ht foot, commenced his favorite aumsement of whittling, which he generally pursued in silence. Indeed, it appeared to have be- come with him an indispensable accompaniment of reflection. He sat in this abstracted manner until he had rnanuHictured into delicate shavincratch. d ruin, : knob J to pul Lirn. J TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE. 257 never say a word about sellln' it, for I know when I come back, tliey won't hit it i^o arler they are once used to it. Well, when I first came, 1 knowed no one, and I was forced to inquire whether a man Wiis good for it, afore I left it with him ; so I liiade a pint of axin' all al)out every man's place that livi;d on the road. ' Who lives uj) there in the bi<;- house? ' says I ; ' it's a nice location that, pretty con- siderable improvements, them.' ' Why, sir, that's A. Ij.'s ; he was well to do in the world once, carried a stiff upj)er lip. and keered for no one ; he was oni; of our oraiid aristocrats, — wore a lonjr-tailed coat, and a ruffled shirt ; but he must take to ship buildin", and has gone to the dogs.' ' 0,' said I, ' too many irons in tlie fire. Well, the next farm, where the pigs are in the potato field, whose is that ? ' ' O, sir, that's C. D/s ; he was a considerable fore-handed farmer, as any in our 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 mortects the with a e if she off, and one on ►ne, and >low till 3 deuce er soul nger of )u dear If/ irons 1 1" of her food in n i-v^ ^.« m T:^!!. CIIAPTKU XXXITI. WINDSOK AND THIO FAR WEST. The next niorning the Clockniakcr proposed to take a drive round tiie noij^hborhood. " You hadn't ought," says he, " to be in a hurry; you should see the Vicinity of this location ; there ain't the beat of it to be found anywhere." While the servants were harnessing Old Clay, we went to see a new bridg(j which bad recently been erected ovf ' the Avon Kiver. '' That," said he, "is a splendid thing. A New Yorker built it, and the folks in St. John paid for it." " Y'ou mean of Halifax," said I ; " St. John is in tlie other Province." " I mean what I say," he replied, " and it is 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 thev 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 little 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 266 THE CLOLXMAKER. tl '1 !'■ lii •> i " ' );tr: come to make money and notliln'else, wIjo don't caK it lionie, and don't fV't'l to lionKr, and wlio intend to np killocli and ofV, as soon as ihey liave inaile their ned out of the Hhienoses. Tliey have i^ot abont as mueh rej^ard lor tlie country as ii peddliT has, wlw) trudj^es alonj^ with a puck on his hack. He ivalLs^ 'cause he intends to ride at last; trusts, 'cause lie intends to stie at last ; smiles, 'cause he intends to c/teat at hist; S(U'es all, 'cause he intends to move all at last. It's actilly overrun with transient paupers, and transient sj)ecuhitors ; and tiiese hist 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. i)er cent. ; they deaden public spirit ; they hain't got none themselves, and they larf at it in 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 noth- in' ; 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 ; bean't it lovely ? The prayer eyes of Illanoy are the top of the ladder with us, but these dykes take the shine o/T them by a long chalk f J % )n't call lend to (' tlujir )()ul as us, wlio iralks, nsii he luls to HOCC nil juipers, rumble whole keep u ii' your uel no (leaden es, and d their les, the J to be spirited and so I Blue- > noth- lier jist ;n*t it? prayer us, but chalk ) WlNDSOli AM) IHE FAli WEST. 207 that's sartin. The land in our Far West, it is geucrailv allowed, can't be no lu'ttcr: what you plant is sure to j^row aiul yield \v(;ll, and Inixl is so cheap, you can live there lor h:dl' nothin'. lint it ddu't agree with us New Ku^laiul IoIIns ; nc don't t'njoy good health there; and what in the woihl is lh<* u^e of food, if you have such an etanial dvspepsy you can't digest it? A man can hardiv live there till next grass, afore he is in the yaller leaf. Jiisl like one of our bran new vessels ])nilt d(»\vn in Maine, of best liackinatack, or what's better still, of our rael American live oak (and that's allowcnl to he about the best in the world) ; send her olf to the West Indies, ami let her lie theie awhile, and the worms will riddle her bottom all full of holes lik(? a tin cidlender, or a board with a grist of duck-shot ihroiigh it; you wouldn't believe what a httrc, \\u\\ be. Well, that's jist the case with the Western climate. The heat takes the solder otit of the knees and elbows, weakens the joints, and makes the frame ricketty. " Besides, we like the smell of the salt water; it seems kinder nateral to us New Knglandiirs. We can make more a ploughin' of the seas, than ploni;h- in' of a prayer-eye. 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 shij). And then to leave one's folks, and wvitive place, where one was raised, halter broke, and trained to go in gei'r, and exchange all the com- forts of the Old States for them 'ere new (>nes, don't i.j t 268 THE CLOCKMAKER. H H ■ S^i 14 ■■'4-i seem to go down well at all. Why, the verj 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 just made critters, that's a fact, full of health and life, and beauty. Now, to change them 'ere splendid whiie water-lilies of Connecticut and Rhode Island for the yaller crocusses of Illanoy, is what we don't like. It goes most confoundedly agin the grain, I tell you. Poor critters, when they get away back there, they grow as thin as a sawed lath ; their little peepers are as dull as a boiled cod-fish ; 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 vou can the color to a leaf the frost has touched in the fall. It's a 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 t:J '- rev} sight the dear IS, I tell red rose ike Mrs. 3 well in wan, lips tes one's e talkin', of health hem 'ere k1 Rhode what we agin the get away th ; their sh ; their ill mouth rst of it, )w sailer you may )re bring L leaf the >ose with i temper When weetness h it. A Siamese !n them WINDSOR AND THE FAR WEST. 269 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 sj)ilt milk, we all know, l)ut it's easier said than done, that. Womenkind, and especially single folks, will take on dreadful at the fadin' of their roses, and their frettin' only seems to niidse the thorns look sharper. Our minister used to say to sister Sail (and when she was voun