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'' ■'J' l ' i l ii lJ jIWWWIIW— W— t— Lf '^'^d H-l^'-finC^'i-i^ If Si-. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAOE 1 The Duke of Kent's Lodge 15 2. Plavinc; a Cird 24 3. Behind the Scenes 37 4. The Black Brother 49 5. The Great Unknown 68 6. Snubbing a Snob 72 7. Patriotism, or the Two Shears's 83 8. Too Knowing by Half 94 9. Matrimony i 104 10. The Wooden Horse 116 11. The Bad Shilling 129 12. Trading in Bed 143 13. Knowing the Soundings, or Polly Coffin's Sandhole 158 14. An Old Friend with a New Face 170 15. The Unburied One 180 16. Definition of a Gentleman 190 17. Looking Up 202 IS. The Old Minister 213 19. The Barrel without Hoops 225 20. Facing a Woman 238 21. The Attache 252 A.t^>-iJ'*J'0-jii.. SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. CHAPTER I. THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. The communication by steam between Nova Scotia and England will form a new era in colonial history. It will draw closer the bonds of affection between tlie two coun- tries, afford a new and extended field for English capital, and develop the resources of that valuable but neglected province. Mr. Slick, with his usual vanity, claims the honor of suggesting it, as well as the merit of having, by argument and ridicule, reasoned and shamed the govern- ment into its adoption. His remarks upon the cruelty of employing the unsafe and unfortunate gun-bi'igs that con- stituted the line of Falmouth packets, until they severally foundered and disappeared with their gallant crews, are too personal and too severe to be recorded in this place, and the credit he claims for having attracted the attention, and directed the indignation of the public to this disgrace- ful sacrifice of human life, is so extravagant, that one would suppose this obvious and palpable error had escaped the observation of all the world but himself, and was altogether a new discovery. But, whatever praise he may deserve 16 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. for liis calculations and suggestions, or whatever blame is to be attached to the admiralty for their obstinate adhe- rence to the Uiemorable ••coffin-ships,"! prefer looking forward, to dwelling on a painful retrospect, and indul- ging in j)leasing anticipations of the future, to commenting on the errors of the past. This route, by its connection with that of New York, will afford an agreeable tour, commencing at Halifax, pas- sing through the colonies, and terminating at the Hudson. It will offer a delightful substitute for that of the Rhine, and the beaten tracks on the continent. As sooa as it was announced that government had decided upon adopting Mr. Slick's designs, I wrote to him informing hiijj of the fact, and of my intention to proceed to St. John, the state of Maine, New England, and New York, and requested him to meet me as soon as possible, and accompany me on this journey, as I proposed taking passage at the latter place in a steamer for Great Britain. I left Halifax on the 10th of May last, and embarked on board of the Great Western in July. It was the third, and will probably be the last tour on this continent performed in company with this ec- centric individual. During the journey there were few in- cidents of sufficient novelty to interest the reader, but his conversation partook of the same originality, the same knowledge of human nature, and the same humor as for- merly ; and whenever he developed any new traits of character or peculiarity of feeling, not exhibited in our previous travels, I carefully noted them as before, and have now the pleasure of giving them to the public. As a whole, they form a very tolerable portrait of an erratic Yankee trader, which, whatever may be the merit of the THE DUKE OF KENT'ri LOD(JE. 17 execution, has, at least, the advantage, and deserves tho praise, of fidelity. The morning I left Ilalifiix was one of those brilliant ones tlu.t in this climate distinguish this season of the year; and as I ascended the citadel-hill, and paused to look for the last time u})on the noble and secure harbor, the sloping fields, and wooded hills of Dartmouth, and the tranquil waters and graceful course of the Northwest Arm, which, embosomed in wood, insinuates itself around the peninsula, and embraces the town, I thought with pleasure that the time had now arrived when this exquisite scenery would not only be accessible to European travellers, but form one of the termiiii of the great American tour. Hitherto it has been known only to the oflicers of the army and navy, the former of whom are but too apt to have their first pleasura- ble impressions effaced by a sense of exile, which a long unvaried round of garrison duty in a distant land so natu- rally induces ; and the latter to regard good shelter and safe anchorage as the greatest natural beauties of a harbor. After leaving Halifax, the road to Windsor winds for ten miles round the margin of Bedford basin, which is con- nected vath the harbor by a narrow passage at the dock- yard. It is an extensive and magnificent sheet of water, the shores of Avhich are deeply indented with numerous coves, and well-sheltered inlets of great beauty. At a distance of seven miles from the town is a ruined lodge, built by his royal highness the late duke of Kent, when commander-in-chief of the forces in this colony, once his favorite summer residence, and the scene of his munifi- cent hospitalities. It is impossible to visit this spot without the most melancholy feelings. Tho tottering fence, the 1* 18 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. prostrato gates, the ruiiuHl p^rottocs, tlie long and winding avenues, cut nut of the forest, overgrown by rank grass and occasional shrub^i, and the silence and desolation that pervaded everything around, all bespeak a rapid and premature decay, recall to mind the untimely fate of its noble and lamented owner, and tell of fleeting pleasures, and the transitory nature of all earthly things. I stopped at a small inn in the neighborhood for the purpose of strol- ling over it for the last time ere I left the country, and for the indulgence of those moralizing musings which at times harmonize with our nerves, and awaken what may be called tlie pleasurable sensations of melancholy. A modern wooden ruin is of itself the least interesting, and, at the same time, the most depressing object imagina- ble. The massive structures of antiquity that are every- where to be met with in Europe, exhibit the remains of great strength, and, though injured and defaced by the slow and almost imperceptible agency of time, promise to continue thus mutilated for ages to come. They awaken the images of de})artcd generations, and are sanctified by legend and by tale. But a Avooden ruin shows rank and rapid decay, concentrates its interest on one family, or one man, and resembles a mangled corpse, rather than the mon- ument that covers it. It has no historical importance, no ancestral record. It awakens not the imagination. The poet finds no inspiration in it, and the antiquary no inte- rest. It speaks only of death and decay, of recent calam- ity, and vegetable decomposition. The very air about it is close, dank, and unwholesome. It has no grace, no strength, no beauty, but looks deformed, gross, and repul- sive. Even the faded color of a painted wooden house, the THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. 19 tnniislied gilding of its decorations, the corroded iron of its fassteiiingH. and its cnnnbling materials, all indicate recent UKe and temporary habitation. It is but a short time since this mansion was tenanted by its royal master, and in that brief space how great has been the devastation of the ele- ments ! A few years more, and all trace of it will have disappeared for ever. Its very site will soon become a matter of doubt. The forest is fast reclaiming its own, and the lawns and ornamented gardens, annually sown with seeds scattered by the winds from the surrounding woods, are relapsing into a state of nature, and exhibiting in de- tached patches a young growth of such trees as are com- mon to the country. As I approached the house I noticed that the windows were broken out, or shut up with rough boards to exclude the rain and snow ; the doors supported by wooc'en props instead of hinges, which hung loosely on the panels ; and that long luxuriant clover grew in the eaves, which had been originally designed to conduct the water from the roof, but becoming choked with dust and decayed leaves, had afforded sufficient food for the nourishment of coarse grasses. The portico, like the house, had been formed of wood, and the flat surface of its top, imbibing and retaining moisture, presented a mass of vegetable matter from which had sprung up a young and vigorous birch-tree, whose strength and freshness seemed to mock the helpless weak- ness that nourished it.* I had no desire to enter the apartments ; and, indeed, the aged ranger, whose occupa- tion was to watch over its decay, and to prevent its prema- * This was the case when I was there in 1828 ; since then, porch and trf-e have both disappeared. 20 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DQiNGS. tnre destruction by the plunder of its fixtures and more durable material ', informed me that the floors wei'e unsafe. Altogether, the scene was one of a most depressing kind. A small brook, which had by a skilful hand been led over several precipitous descents, performed iis feats alone and unobserved, and seemed to murmur out its complaints, as it hurried over its rocky channel to mingle with the sea; while the wind, sighing through the umbrageous wood, ap- peared to assume a louder and move melancholy wail, as it swept through the long vacant passages and deserted sa- loons, and f^scaped in plaintive tones from the bvoken case- ments. The ofiices, as well as the ornamental buildings, had shared the same fate as the house. Tlie roofs of all had fallen in, and mouldered into dust ; the doors, sasiies, and floors, had diKappearcd ; and the walls only, which were in part built of stone, remained to attest their existence and use. The grounds exhibited similar effects of neglect, in a climate where the living wood grows so rapidly, and the dead decays so soon, as in Nova Scotia. An arbor, which had been constructed of lattice-work, for the support of r>, fi&v/ering vine, had fallen, and was covered with vegeta- tion ; while its roof alone remained, supported aloft by limbs of trees that, growing up near it, 1 id become entan- gled in its net-work. A Cliincse temple, once a favorite retreat of its owner, as if in conscious pride of its prefer- ence, had offered a more successful resistance to the weather, and aj)peared in tolerable preservation ; while one small surviving bell, of the numerous ones that once ornamented it, gave out Its solitary and melancholy tink- ling as it waved in the wind. How sad was its mimic knell u\i'X pleasures that were fled for ever ! I THE DUK2 OF KENT'S LODGE, 21 Tlie contemplation of this deserted lionse is not without its beneficial effect on the mind ; for it incnlc.ites humility to the ricli, and resignation to the poor. However elevated man may be, there is much in his cond'^ion that reminds him of the infirmities of his nature, and reconciles him to the decrees of Providence. " May it please your majesty," said Euclid to his royal pupil, ** there is no regal road to science. You must travel in the same path with others, if you would attain the same end." These forsaken grounds teach us in similar terras this consolatory truth, that there iri no exclusive way to happiness reserved even for those of the most exalted rank. Tiie smiles of fortune are ca- pricious, and sunshine and shade are unequally distributed ; but though the surface of life is thus diversified, the end is uniform to all, and invariably terminates in the grave. " Pallida niors tequo pulsat pcdc pauperum tabernas Rcgumque turres." Ruins, like death, of which they are at once the emblem and the cidence, are apt to lo^e their effect from their fre- quency. The mind becomes accustomed to them, and the moral is lost. The picturesque alone remains predominant, and criticism supplies the pl-ice of reflection. But this if the only ruin of any extent in Nova Scotia, and the o/ily spot either associated wiih royalty, or set apprt and conse- crated to solitude and decay. The stranger pauses at a sight so unusual, and inquires the cause; he learns with surprise that this place was devoted exclusively to pleas- ure ; that care and sorrow never entered here ; and that the voice of mirth and music was alone heard within its gates. It was the temporary abode of a prince — of one, too, had he lived, that would have inherited the first and 22 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. i fairest empire in the world. All that man can give, or rank enjoy, awaited him ; but an overruling and inscruta- ble Providence decreed, at the very time when his succes- sion seemed most certain, that the sceptre should pass into the hands of another. This intelligence interests and ex- cites his feelings. He enters, and hears at every step the voice of nature proclaiming the doom that awaits alike the prince and the peasant. The desolation he sees appals him. The swallow nestles in the empty chamber, and the sheep finds a noon-day shelter in the banqueting-room, while the ill-omened bat rejoices in the dampness of the mouldering ruins. Everything recalls a recollection of the dead ; every spot has its record of the past ; every path its footstep ; every tree its legend ; and even the universal silence that reigns here has an awful eloquence that over- powers the heart. Death is written everywhere. Sad and dejected, he turns and seeks some little relic, some small memorial of his deceased prince, and a solitary, neglected garden-flower, struggling for existence among the rank grasses, presents a fitting type of the brief existence and ti»ansitpry nature of all around him. As he gathers it, he pays the silent but touching tribute of a votive tear to the memory of him who has departed, and leaves the place with a mind softened and subdued, but improved and puri- fied, by what he has seen. Tlie affectionate remembrance we retain of its lamented owner may have added to my regret, and increased the interest I felt in this lonely and peculiar ruin. In the duke of Kent the Nova-Scotians lost a kind patron and generous friend. The loyalty of the people, which, when all Amer- ica was revolting, remained firm and unshaken, and the nu- THE DUKE OF KENT'S LODGE. 23 merous proofs he received of their attachment to their king and to himself, made an impression upon bis mind that was neither effaced nor weakened by time or distance. Should these pages happily meet the eye of a colonial minister, who has other objects in view than the security of place and the interest of a party, may they remind him of a duty that has never been performed but by the illustrious individual, whose former residence among us gave rise to these reflections. This work is designed for the cottage, and not for the palace ; and the author has not the pre- sumption even to hope it can ever be honored by the perusal of his sovereign. Had he any ground for antici- pating such a distinction for it, he would avail himself of this opportunity of mentioning, that, in addition to the dutiful affection the Nova-Scotians have always borne to their monarch, they feel a more lively interest in, and a more devoted attachment to, the present occu- pant of the throne, from the circumstances of the long and close connection that subsisted between them and her illuptrions parent. He was their patron, benefactor, and friend. To be a Nova-Scotian was of itself a sufficient passport to his notice, and to possess merit a sufficient guaranty for his favor. Her majesty reigns, therefore, in this little province in the hearts of her subjects — a do- minion of love inherited from her father. Great as their loss was in being thus deprived of their only protector, her faithful people of Nova Scotia still cling to the hope that Providence ban vouchsafed to raise up one more powerful and equally k.nd in her majesty, who, following this pa- ternal example, will be .graciously pleased to extend to them a patronage that courtiers can not and statesmen will 24 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. not give. While, therefore, as proteges of her royal house, they claim the right to honor and to serve the sovereign of the empire as " their own qveen," they flatter themselves lier majesty, for a similar reason, will condescend to regard them as " tJie queen's own." CHAPTER II. 1 ? PLAYINU A CARD. I HAD lingered so long about these grounds, that the day was too far spertt to think of reaching Windsor before night, and I therefore determined upon wiling away the afternoon in examining, by the aid of a diving-bell, the hulls of sev- eral ships of a French fleet, which, at an early period of the history of this country? took shelter in Bedford Basin, and was sunk by the few survivors of the crews to prevent their falling into the hands of the English. The small- pox, at that time so fatal a scourge to the human race, ap- pearing among them soon a.ler their arrival, nearly depop- ulated the fleet, destroyed the neighboring village, and swept off one third of the whole tribe of Nova Scotia In- dians. So dreadful a mortality has never been witnessed on this continent ; and the number of strangers thus sud- denly smote with death at this place, exceeded by several thousands the amount of the population of the country in which they were interred. Of one of the most powerful armaments ever fitted out by France, a few hundreds of persons only survived to return to their native land to tell ! PLAYING A CARD. 25 the sad tale of their misfortunes. The ships are still dis- tinctly visible in calm weather ; and the rising ground in the neighborhood, where the duke d'Anville and his mighty host were buried is again clothed with wood, and not to be distinguished from the surrounding forest, except by the inequality of the surface, caused by numerous trenches cut into it to receive the dead. The whole scene is one of sur- passing beauty, and deep and melancholy interest. The ruined lodge, the sunken fleet, the fatal encampment, and the lonely and desolate cemetery of those unfortunate strangers, form a more striking and painful assemblage of objects than is to be found in any other part of British America, On my return to the inn, I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Slick, who was on his way to Halifax, for the purpose of arranging the details of our journey. In the course of the evening I succeeded in obtaining his consent, not merely to attend me .to New York, but to accompany me to Eng- land. He was in great spirits at the idea of transferring the scene and subjects of our conversation to the other side of the water, where, he said, he could indulge in greater freedom of remark than he could here, having al- ways been afraid of wounding the feelings of his own coun- trymen, and alienating the affections of his old friends, the colonists, for whom he professed great regard. On the following morning, when the little light travel- ling-wagon was driven round from the coachyard, I was delighted to see that the clockmaker had brought his favor- ite horse, " Old Clay," with him. " Come, step in, squire," said he, as he held the reins — " Old Clay is a-pawing and a-chawing like mad ; he wants to show you the way to 26 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. < t! Windsor, and he is jist the boy that can do it. Hold up your head, my old ^t-raflfe," said he, " and make the folks a bow; it's the last time you will ever see the.n in all your born days ; and now off with you as if you was in rael wide awake airnest, and turn out your toes pretty. Never stop for them idle critters that stand starin' in the road there, as if they never seed a horse afore, but go right over them like wink, my old snort, for you'll be to Conne'ticut afore they can wake up the crowner and summon a jury, / know. There 's no occasion to hurry tho' at that rate, or you'll set my axle a-fire. There, that will do now, jist fourteen miles an hour. I don't calculate to drive faster on a journey, squire, for it sweats him, and then you have to dry him arterwards afoie you water him, so there is noth- ing gained by it. Ain't he a horrid handsome horse, a most endurin' quickster, a rael salt, that's all? He is the prettiest piece of flesh and bone ever bound up in horse- hide. What an eye he has ! — you might hang your hat on it. And then his nostrils ? Lord, they open like the mouth of a speakin' trumpet. He can pick up miles on Aw feet, and throw 'em behind him faster than a steam doc- tor a-racin' off with another man's wife. " There now, squire, ain't that magnificent ? you can hear him, but can't see him ; he goes like a bullet out of a rifle, when its dander is up. Ain't he a whole team that, and a horse to spare? Absquatilate it in style, you old skunk, from a squirrel's jump to the eend of the chapter, and show the gentleman what you ran do. Anybody can see he ain't a Blue-nose, can't they? for, cuss 'em, they don't know how to begin to go. Trot, walk, or gallop, is all the same to him, like talkin', drinkin', or fighten to a human. PLAYING A CARD. 27 Lord, I have a great mind to take him to England, jist for the fun of the thing, for I don't know myself what he can do. When he has done his best, there is always a mile an hour more in hirfi to spare : there is, upon my soul. But it takes a man to mount him. Only lookin' at him goin' makes your head turn round like grindin' coffee : — what would ridin' him do? And now, squire, here goes for Slickville, Onion county, state of Conne'ticut, ?7nited States of America. Here 's for home." The very mention of Slickville awakened in my mind a desire to see its venerable and excellent pastor, Mr. Hope- well, so often quoted and so affectionately remembered by Mr. Slick. Every saying of his that I had heard, and every part of his conduct, in private or public life, recorded in the previous volumes, had been marked by such a be- nevolent and Christian feeling, and by such sound sense and good judgment, that I was fully prepared to honor and to love him. Indeed, one of the best traits in the" clockmaker's character was the great affection he always expressed for his old friend and preceptor, whose opinions and maxims he had carefully treasured as rules of conduct that were infallible. With natural shrewdness, Mr. Slick, like most men of his class, was eminently gifted ; but the * knowledge of men and things which he derived from his learned and exemplary friend made him a wiser man, and more fii a philosopher, than is usually found in his station of life. It made him "a great card;" a saying of his with which I was furnished in the following whimsical conversation. In the course of our morning's drive, I happened to ask him if he interfered much in politics when he was at homo 28 SAM BUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. Ifl! at Slickvillc. " No," said he, " not now. I was once an assembly man, but since then I ginn up politics. There is nothin' so well taken care of as your rights and privi- leges, squire. There are always plenty of chaps volun- teerin' to do that, out of pure regard for you, ready to lay down their lives to fight your cause, or their fortins, if they had any, either. No ; I have given that up. Clockmakin' is a better trade by half. Dear, dear, I shall never forget the day I was elected ; I felt two inches taller, and about a little the biggest man in all Slickville. I knew so much was expected of me I couldn't sleep a-tryin' to make speeches ; and when I was in the shop I spiled half the work by not bavin' my mind on it. ' Save your country,* says one ; ' save it from ruin ; cut down salaries.' ' I intend to,' says I. * Watch the officials,' says another ; ' they 're the biggest rogues we have. It don't convene with liberty that public sarvants should be masters of the public' ' I quite concur with you,' says I. ' Reduce lawyers' fees,' says some ; ' they are a-eatin' up of the country like locusts.* ' Jist so,' said I. 'A bounty on wheat,' says the farmer, 'for your life.' ' Would you tax the mechanic to enrich the agri- culturist V says the manufacturer. ' Make a law agin this- tles,' says one; 'a regulator about temperance,' says another. 'We've a right to drink if we please,' says a third. 'Don't legislate too much,' says a fourth — ' it's the curse of the state :' and so on without eend. I was fairly bothered, for no two thought alike, and there was no pleasin' nobody. Then every man that voted for mc wanted some favor or another, and there was no bottom to the obligation. I was most squashed to death Avith the weight of my cares, they was so heavy. PLAYTNG A CARD. 29 •' At last the great day came, and tlie governor, and sen- ate, and representatu-es all Avalked in procession, and the artillery fired, and the band of the caravan of wild beasts was hired to play for us, and we organized in due form, and the governor's message was read. I must say that day was the happiest one of my life. I felt full of f^'gnity and honor, and was filled with visions of glory to come. 'Well,' says I to myself, 'the great game is now to be' played in rael airncst, and no mistake — what card shall 1 play.? The presidential chair and the highest posts is open to me in common with other citizens. What is to prevent me a-comin' in by honors, or, if I have good luck, by the odd trick. What shall I lead off with V I laid awake all night considerin' of it, a-roUin' and a-tossin' over, like cramp in the stomack, not knowin' what to do : at last, I got an idea. ' Extcnsimi of svffVage,'' says I, * is the card I'll 2^lay. That will take the masses, and masses is power, for majorities rules.' At that time, squire, we had the forty-shilling freehold qualification, and it extended no faither; so I went for univarsal sufiVage ; 'for,' thinks I, ' if I can carry that, I can go for governof first, on the strength of the new votes, and president arterward ;* and it did seem plausible enough, too, that 's a fact. To all ap- pearance, it was the best card in the j}ack. " So out I jumps from bed, a-walkin' up and down the room in my shirt-tail, a-workin' away at my speech like anything, and dreadful hard work it was, too ; for it is easier to forge iron any time than a speech, especially if you ain't broughten up to the business. I had to go over it, and over it, ever so often,' for every now and then I'd stick fa^t, get bothered, and forget where I was, and have 30 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. to begin agin ; but when day was e'en about breakin', I was just drnwin' to a close, and had nearly scored and rough-hew'd it out, when all of a sudden I run agin' the bed-post in the dark, and nearly knocked my brains out. Well, next night I worked at it agin, only I left the can- dle burnin*, so as not to be a-stumblin' up agin things that way, and the third night I got it all finished off complete ; but I got a shockin' cold in my head, a-walkin' about na- ked so, and felt as weak as a child for want of sleep. I was awful puzzled to fix on what to do on account of that plaguy cold. I didn't know whether to wait till it got bet- ter, or strike while the iron was hot and hissin', for I warn't sure sume o' the speech wouldn't leak out, or the whole get flat, if I kept it in too long ; so, as soon as the house opened, I makes a plunge right into it ; for what must be, must be, and it's no use a-considerin'. *' So I ups and says, ' Mr. Speaker' (Lord, how thick my tongue felt — it seemed to grow too thick for my mouth, like the clapper of an old horse), * let me perpound this resolution, sir,' said I : 'All men are free and equal.' — ' No one doubts it, Mr. Slick,' said an old member ; ' no one denies that; it's a truism.' I didn't somehow expect that interruption ; it kinder put me out, and I never got a goin' altogether right agin arterward, for I lost my tem- per ; and when a man ain't cool, he might as wel^ ' -ng up his fiddle, that's a fact. 'Have I freedom of speech, sir,' said I, ' or have I not — or is that last rag of liberty torn from the mast of the constitution too 1 I stand stock still a-waitin' for your answer, sir.' — *0h, sartain,' said he, ' sartain ; you may talk for ever, if you like : go on, jir; only no man doubts your proposition.' — 'It's a lie, 'M I'LAYINO A CARD. 81 sir eaid I ; ' it 's a lie writ.' — ' Oi der ! order ! — chair ! chair !' says some. 'Knock him down! — turn him out! — where did you I'arn manners?' pays others. 'Hear me out,' says I, 'will you? and don't be so everlastin' fast: what 's the use of jumpin' afore you come to the fence ? It's a lie written on the face of the constitution.' — 'Oh, oh,' says they, 'is that it?' — 'Yes,' says I, 'it is, and con- tradict it if you darst. Wo are not free ; we are slaves : one half of us is tyrants — unremorseless, onfeelin', over- bearin' tyrants, and vile usurpers ; and the other half slaves*— abject, miserablet degraded slaves. The first ar- gument, I advance, sir, is this' — and the cold in my nose began to tickle, tickle, tickle, till I couldn't hold in no longer, and I let go a sneeze that almost broke the win- ders out. Lord, what a haw ! haw ! they sot up. ' The first argument is this, sir' — and off went both barrels of my nose agin like thunder ; it fairly raised the dust from the floor in a cloud, like a young whirlwind in the street afore rain. It made all spin agin. ' Why, he is a very ring-tail roarer,' says the members, * a regular sneezer ;' and they shouted and roared like anything. I thought I should 'a' died for shame one minit, and the next I felt so coonish, I had half a mind to fly at the speaker and knock him down. I didn't jist cleverly know what to do, but at last I went on : ' Did the best blood of the land flow for forty shillings ? Was Bunker Hill fought out to loosen British chains, merely to rivet American ones ? Was it for this the people died covered with gore and glory, on the bed of honor ? Was it the forty shillings alone that fought the revolution of the polls ? I am for the polls. Taxation and representation should go hand in hand, and s 32 SAM SLICK'8 SAYINGS AND DOINOS. % freedom and eqim'ity likewise, also. How dare you tax the polls without their consent? Suppose; tlu^y was to go for to tax you witliout your consent, why, who would bo right or who wrong, then ? Can two wrongs make a right ? It is much of a muchness, sir — six of one, and half a doz- en of the other.' " • What's that feller talkin' about V says a member. 'A vote to help the Poles agin Russia,' says the other : • what a cussed fool he is.' It put me quite out, tliat, and joggled me 80 I couldn't make another lino straight. I couldn't see the speaker no longer, for my eyes watered as if I had been a-stringin' inions for a week, and I had to keep blow- in* my nose the whole blessed time, for the cold in it corked it up as tight as a bottle. ' Who calls them fools V says I ; ' who dares insult free citizens, because they are not forty shillingers ? You could n't treat them wus, if they was nas- ty, dirty, despisable niggers ; and yet you boast your glori- ous constitution. Will any member answer me this ? Have they blood in their veins? — and if they have, it must be free blood ; and if free, it must boil.' (Tickle, tickle goes my 'boscis agin, and I had to stop to sarch my pocket for my nose-rag.) ' The honorable gentleman,' says some feller another, for most on 'em were strangers to me, ' mean u blood-puddin', I suppose.' Ah ! I thought I should have gone ravin', distracted mad. I knew I was talkin' nonsense, that I had run off the tracks with all steam on, and was a-plowin' thro' the mud in the fields like anything. Says I, 'I'll have your blood, you scoun- drel, if you dare to say that agin, see if I don't, so there now.' Oh, dear, such shoutin', and roarin', and clappiu' of hands, I never heerd ; my head run round like a spin- f PLAYINC, A CAIID. 88 nin' wlicel ; it wns rU burr, burr, burr, buzz, buzz, buzz. I bit in my breath to keep cool ; I felt I was ou the edge of a wharf, and only one step more was over head and ears chewallop in the water. ' 8am,' says I, to myself, • be a man ; be cool — take it easy ;' so I sot off agin, but I was BO confused I got into my other speech on agricultur', that I had larncd by heart, and mixed the two together all in a ravel. ' Thistles,' says I, ' is the bane of all good hus- bandry. Extirpate them from the land ; they are usurpin' the places of grain, and all Sllckville will be filled with polls. If they have no voice in this assembly, how can you expect them to obey the laws they never made. Com- pel folks to cut them down in the full of the moon, and they '11 all die ; I have tried it myself with univarsal suf- frage and the ballot.' " Well, artillery is nothin' but a popgun to the noise the members now made — it was an airthquake tipped with thunder and lightning. I never heerd nothing like it. I ''-jlt I was crazy ; I wished I was dead" a'most, or could sink through the floor into the middle of the sea, or anywhere but where I was. At last, Cousin Woodberry took pity on me, and came over to where I was, and said, * Sam,' said he, 'set down, that's a good feller; you don't know what you are a-doin' of; you are makin' an ass of yourself.* But I didn't hear him. 'Confound you!' said he, 'you look mean enough to put the sun into eclipse,' and he laid hold of the skirts of my coat, and tried to pull me down ; but instead of that, he pulled 'em right off, and made an awful show of me. That sot me off agin, quite ravin' as bad as ever. ' I won't be put down,' says I, * Mr. Speak- er ; I fight for liberty and the polls ; I stand agin the for- 2 'iHf 84 8AM SLICKS SAYINGS AND DOINGS. l^t u ty sliillingevs. LiihaiKl me, yon slave!' snid I; 'touch me not, or I '11 sacrifice you on the altar of ir.y country ;* and with that I ups fist and knocks Woodberry over as flat as a pancake, and bolts right out of the hall. " But I was so blinded with the cold in my head and rage together, I couldn't see no m.ore nor a bat, and I pitched into several members in the way out, and 'most broke their necks and my own too. It was the first and the last of my speech-making. I went b^ the name, for years arterward, in cur town, of ' Frc e-and-equal Slick.' I wish I could wipe out that page of my follies from my memoiy, I tell you ; but it 's a caution to theni that navigate in politics, that's a fact. " Nothin' on this side of the water makes so big a fool of a man, squire, ho continued, as goin' to the house of repre- sentRtives, without bein' fit for it. Them that hante jist got the right v eight of ballast are upsot in no time, and turned bottom upward, afore they know where they be. Them that are a little vain by natur' get so pufiFed up and so con- saited, they become nothin' but laughin' stocks to all the world, most ridiculous fools ; while them whose principles ain't well anchored in good holdin'-ground, let the rogue peep out o' tlieir professions plainer than they are a-th ink- in' on. The skin of the beast will show through, like an Irishman's elbow, though he has three coats on. But that ain't the worst of it, i.eether. A man is apt to become bankrupt in business, as well as in character, by it. Doin' big and talkin' big for three months in the year, and puffin' each other up till thev are ready to bust with tlieir impor- tance, don't convene with sellin' tape by the yard, or load- in' on carts, when they return home to their business. In I ^ tz ^ l'LAYIN(} A CARD. 35 short, squire, a country ouglit to be a rich country, with larned met iu it, and men o' property to represent it, or else assembly-work is notbin' but high life below stairs, arter all. I could point you out legislatms on this here continent where the speakin' is all kitchin-talk, all strut, brag, and vulgar impedence. It 's enough to make a cat sick to hear fellers talk of independence who are mortgaged over head and ears in debt, or to listen to chaps jawin* about public vartue, temperance, education, and what-not, all day, who spend the night in a back room of a market- tavern, with the key turned, drinkin' hail-storm and bad rum, or play in' sixpenny loo. If mankind only knew what fools they were, and how they helped folks themselves to fool them, there would he some hope of them, for they would have larnt the first lesson of wisdom. " But to sum-totalize my story : the next time I went to poor old minister'^ arter that, says he, ' Sam,' says he, * they tell me you broke down the other day in the house of represents ^ti'M, and made a proper gag of yourself. I am very sorry for you, very sorry indeed ; but it is no uso now a-cryin' over spilt milk. What can't be cured, must be endured, I do suppose ; but I do wish, with all my heart and soul, you had a-taken my advice and left politics alone.' — 'Don't mention it, minister,' said I: 'I am ashamed to death of mj^self, and shall leave Slickville till it's blowed over and forgot; I can't bear to hear of it ; it fairly makes me sick. It was a great card I had tho', if I had only pi.ayed it right,* says I, • a very great card in- deed. In fact it was more than a card — it was high, low, Jack, and the game.* — 'What was it,' said he, 'that was worth all tliat 'are nonsense V — ' Univarsal suffrage,' says 36 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. l( ro I \ I. — ' Sam,' said lie (and I know'd I was in for a lectur', for he knit his brow, and looked in rael right down airnest) *you don't know what you are a-talkin' about. Do you know what univarsal suffrage means?' — * To be sure I do,' says I ; 'it's every man havin' a vote and a voice in ma- kin' those laws that is to govern him ; and it comports with reason, and stands to common sense.' — ' Well,' says he, 'what's all this when it's fried? uhy, it amounts to this, and nothin' more nor less: 7iow men of property and character make lavs to govern rogues and vagabonds, but by your be«Mtiful scheme of univarsal suffrage, rogues and vagabonds will mahe laws to govern men of pro'perty and character. It is revarsin' the order of things ; it is worse than nonsense ; it is downright madness. We are fast ap- proaching this state, without your aid, Sam, I can tell you ; aid when we do arrive at it, we shall be an object of scorn to point at from Europe. We shall then have wound up the fearful tragedy of our revolution with as precious a farce as folly and licentiousness ever produced.' — 'Minis- ter,' says I, ' I don't know how it is, but you have such a short-hand way of puttin' things, that there is no contra- dictin' of you. You jist squeeze all the argument up in a ball, as easy as dough, and stop a feller's mouth with it. How the plague is it that you seem always right?' — ' Be- ciuse I never play a card, Sam. I never consider what is expedient, but what is right; never study what will ticJcle the ears of people, but what will promote their ivelfare. You would have been all straight, too, if j'ou had only looked to the right and wrong of the measure ; but you looked to 2)opularity, and that sot you to 7?layin' of a card. Now the upshot of this popular gambling, or card-/)laying. BEHIND Tin: SCENES. 37 is paiiiotisin ; and, mark my Avoids, Sam — mark my words, my boy, for I am an old man now, and have read the human lieart well — in ninety-nine cases out of a hun- dred, iHitrlutiam is the trump-card of a scoundrel.* " CHAPTER III. nEHI.XD THE SCENES. It is not to be supposed that Mr. Slick had ever made such an absurd exhibition of himself in the legislative hall of Slickvillc, as he thought proper to portray in the anecdote related in the last chapter. He was evidently a man of too much tact and natural good sense, to have ren- dered hiniF^lf so ridiculous; nor must we, on the other hand, attribute his making himself the hero of the tale to an absence of vanity, for few men had a greater share of it than himself. It probably arose from his desire to avoid personalities, and an amiable anxiety not to furnish a tra/- eller with names that might hereafter appear in print to the annoyance of the real actors. Indeed, so rich did he think himself in experience and knowledge or the world, that he felt he could afford to draw at wUl on his own reputation. How true to nature is the graphic sketch in the last chap- ter, and how just the reflections to which it gave rise ! 1 can call to mind so many instances, even in my own lim- ited sphere of observation, to which his remarks are appli- cable, that I recognise at once the fidelity of the picture and the hand of a, master. Upon my expressing to him an 88 SAM SLICK'S SAYlNfiS AND DOINGS. t)\ intention to record his illustration of" playing a card" as a valuable lesson in life — "All, sir," said he, with the air of a man who felt 1.3 had a right to boast, " I have I'arned to *look behind the scenes.' Major Bradford taught me that air'y in life. It was him put that wrinkle on my horn. He was the gentleman that traded in calves and punkins for the Boston market, him t'mt you've got down in your first series, that took me to tlie Tremont house, the time the gall lost her runnin'-riggin' in the crowd. Well, one arternoon, havin' nothin' above pitikilar to do, I goes and dresses myself up full fig, and was a-posten away as hard as I could leg 't, full chisel down by the Mall in Boston, to a tea-and-turn-out to Sy Tupper's. Sy had an only drtrter called Desire ; she warn't a bad-lookin' piece of farniture neither ; folks said she would have fifty thousand dollars, and, to tell you the truth, I was a-thinkin' of spekelating there, and was a-scouterin* away as hard as I could leg it to the party. Who should I meet on the road but the major a-pokin' along with his cocoanut down, a-studyin' over somethin' or another quite deep, and a-workin' up the baccy in great style, for nothin' a'most will make a man chaw like cipherin' in his head to himself. ' Hullo, major,' said I, * who 's dead, and what's to pay now ? why, what's the matter of you 1 you look as if you had lost every freend you had on airth.' — ' H'are you, boy ?' said he; 'give us your fin, and then tell us which way you are a-sailin' of this fine day, will you V But jist as I was a-goin' to take hold of his hand, he drew back the matter of a yard or so, and eyed me all over from head to foot, as if he was a-measurin' me for a wrastlin' bout. " Says he, ' I '11 bet you a five-dollar piece, Sam, I know BEHIND THE SCENES. 89 where you are a-goin' to-night.' — 'Done,' said I, 'it's a bargain : now, where?' — ' A-whalin',' says he. — * A what !' says I. — 'On a whaliu' voyage,' said he. — 'Hand out your five dollars,' says I, ' for you missed your guess this hitch anyhow. I am a-goiu' down to Sy Tupper's to tea and spend the evenin'.* — 'Exactly,' said he, ' goin' a-gal- lin' ; I know'd it, for you are considerably large print, and it don't take spectacles to read you. She io in ilea, that gall; her father made his money a-whalin', and folks call her ' Sy Tupper's spermaceti.' Bah ! she smells of blubber, that greasy-faced heifer ; let her bide where she be, Sam. You han't been ^behind the scenes' yet, I see, and that screech-owl in petticoats. Mother Tupper, is an old hand. She will harpoon you yet, if you don't mind your eye ; now, mark what I tell you. Come with me to the t\\e-atre, and I '11 show you a gall of the right sort, / know. Helen Bush comes on in tights to-night. She is a beautiful-made crittur, that, clean-limbed and as well made as if she was tur>ied in a mould. She is worth lookin' at, that's a fact; and you don't often get such a chance as that are.' — 'Dear, dear,' said I, 'in tights! well, if that do n't beat all ! I must say that don't seem kinder nate- ral now, does it, major?' — ' Nateral !' said he, • what the devil has natur' got to do with it ? If she followed natur* she would n't wear nothin' at all. Custom has given wo- men petticoats and men pantaloons, but it would be jist as nateral for woman to wear the breeches and men the apron-string, and there is a plaguy sight of them do it, too. Say it ain't modest and I won't non-concur you, but do n't talk about natur', for natur' has no hand in it at ail. It has neither art nor part in it, at no rate. But take my advice, 40 SAM SLICK'S SAYIN(}S AND DOTNfJS. > V ^1 my greenborn, and stiuly natur' a bit. Folks may talk of tbeir Latin and Greek till tlioy are tired, but give nie na- tur'. But to study it rigbt you must get ' behind tlie scenes ;' so come along witb me to tlie bouse.' " Well, I never was to a tbeatre afore in all my life, for minister didn't approbate tbem at no rate, and be wouldn't never let me go to *em to Slickville ; so tbinks I to myself, ' I don't care if I do go tbis once ; it can't do ; e no great barm, I do suppose, and a gall in tigbts is sometbing new ; 60 bere goes,' and I turns and walks lock-and-lock witb bim down to tbe play bouse. Well, I must say it was a splen- did sigbt, too. Tbe bouse was cbock full of company, all dressed out to tbe very nines, and tbe lamps was as brigbt as day, and tbe music was splendid, tbat's a fact, for it was tbe black band of tbe militia (and tbem blacks bave most elegant ears for mujic, too, I tell you), and wben tbey struck up our blood-stirrin' national air, it made me feel all over in a twitteration as if I Avas on wires a'most, consid- erable martial. " But wbat gave me tbe gapes was tbe scenes. Lord, squire, wben tbe curtain drawed up, tbere was Genesee falls as nateral as life, and tbe beautiful four-story grist-mills taken off as plain as anytbing, and Sam Patcb jist ready to take a jump in the basin below. It was all but rael, it was so like life. Tbe action, too, was equal to the scenes ; it was dreadful pretty, I do assure you. Well, arter a while, Helen Busb came on in tigbts ; but I can 't say I lihed it; it didn't seem kinder rigbt for a gall to dress up in men's clothes that way, and I sorter thort that notliin' a'most would tempt me to let Sister Sail show shapes arter that fasbion for money. But somebow or someliow-else BEHIND THE SCENES. 41 in' tcr folks huriawed and clapped and cheered like anything. It was so excitiu* I hurrawed too, at last, as if I was as well pleased as any of them, for hollerin' is catchin*, like bark- in' among dogs, and you can't help it no how you can fix it. Well, arter legs lost their novelty, a whole lot c' dan- cin' galls came forward and danced quod-dviWs, gallop-pards, hornpipes, and what-not, the most beautiful critturs, I think, I ever laid my eyes on — all young and bloomin*, and grace- ful and light as spirits a'most. They seemed as if they e'en a'most belonged to another guess-world from ourn, only the rosy cheeks and bare necks, and naked arms, and dear little ankles, all smacked of rael life. •* ' What do you think of them V said the major ; * han't they fine glass-spun heels, them critturs. I guess you don't often see such fetlocks in Slickville as them ; for your galls, if I don't mis-remember, are rather beefy about the instep : what do you think of them, my boy, eh V — ' Think?' says I ; * why, I never seed the equal of it. Where the plague did they pick up such a lot of elegant galls ? they are hor- rid pretty, I must say : are they foreigners or naXives %* — * Natives,' said he, ' ^^rwMvinc Jonatheenas, all raised in Conne'ticut, and silver-skinned inions every soul of them. Would you like to be introduced to them?' — ' Wcl!,* says I, 'I would, that's a fact, for it's enough to set a feller crazy a'most, actilly ravin*, distracted mad with pleasure, the sight of so many splendid little fillies, ain't it?' — 'Well, come along with me, then,' said he; *jist foller me, and I '11 take you round there.' So out we goes into the entry, and follers along into a dark passage — a pretty dif- ficult navigation it was, too — among trap-doors, and boxes, and broken steps, and what-not; and, arter a while, we en- o* J 42 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND t^oINGS. ters a great onfamished barn of a room alongside of the stage, and there was the players, and dancers, and singers, and ever so many actin' people. Well, it was a wonderful siglit, too ; p'raps, in all my born days, I never see any- tliing to equal it. I never was so staggered. I don't tliink all my starin' put together, would come up to the great big endurin' stare I then gave. I was onfakilised, that 's a fact. I stood for the whole blessed space of five minutes without movin' or speakin'. At last, one of the dancin' galls came a-figerin' up to me a-hornpipin', and a-singin*, and dropt me a low curtshee. 'Well, my old rooster,' said she, * the next time you see me, I hope you will know me ; where did you I'arn manners, starin' so like all possest.' Well, I warn't much used to town-bred galls, and it took me all aback that, and struck me up all of a heap, so I couldn't stir or speak. *0h, fie, Julia,' said another, 'how can you!' and then comin' up and tappin* me on the shoulder with her fan, to wake me up like. Said she, * Pray, my good feller, does your mother know you're out?' The whole room burst out a-larfin' at me; but no, move or speak I couldn't, for I was spell-bound, I do believe. There I stood as stiff as a frozen nigger, and all I could say to myself was, • Heavens and airth !' "At last, another gall, the best and lightest dancer of them all, and one that I rather took a leetle fancy to on the stage, she was so oncommon spry and active, took a flyin' lep right into the middle of the room, and lit down on one foot, and, then balancin' herself as she did on the stage with her hands, stretched the other foot away out ever so far behind her. Well, arter perchin' that Avay a minit or so, as a bird does on a sprig of a tree, she sprung agin, right forrard, and BKHIND THE SCENES. 48 brought herself bolt upright on both feet jist afore me. * What will you give me, my young 'coon,' said she, ' if I show you the way V — ' What way ?' said I, at last, a-scratchin' of my head and a-pluckin' up spunk enough to find my tongue. ' The way out,* said she, • for you seem as if you sorter lost your road, when you came in here. I thought every one in the room would have gone into fita they larfed so ; they fairly screetched till they most loosed their teeth, all but her, and she looked as quiet as a baby. " ' Well done, Angelica,' said the major ; * what a wicked little devil you be !' and he put his arm round her waist and kissed her ; and then, said he, ' Waiter, half a dozen of iced champaigne, here, to pay for Mr. Slick's footin ;' and if he and them galls didn't tuck in the wine in great style, it's a pity, that's all. Well, a glass or two of liquor onloosed the hinges of my tongue, and sot me all right agin, and I jined in the joke and enjoyed the larf as well as the best of them; for it won't do to get cross when fellers are running of their rigs ; it only makes them wus. " Arter a while we left the theatre to go home, and as we progressed down street, says the major to me, * Well, Slick,' says he, * how did you like them little angels, the dancin' galls ? you seemed as amazed as if you was jist born into the world, and looked rather struck with them, I thought, pitikilarly Angelica ; a neat little article, that, ain't she ? There 's no nonsense about her ; she is as straight as a shingle in her talk, right up and down, and no pretense. I guess she has put ' Sy Tupper's sperma- ceti' quite out, han't she]* — 'It puts all creation out,' said I ; ' I never was so stumpt afore since I was r&.sed from a f _ 44 SAM SLICK'8 HAYINGS AND DOINGS. secdlin'. Heavens .'uid aii th ! only to tliink them iinsty, tjiwdry, faded, yaller, jaded, painted drabs was the beautU ful dancin' galls of the thcrttie 1 and them old, forrerd, im- pudent heifers was the modest, graceful, elegant, little cherubs that was on the stage an hour afore ; and, then, to think them nasty daubs was like Genesee falls. Lord, I could paint them pictur'-scenes better myself, with a nig- ger-wench's house mop, I could, I snore.' — 'Exactly,' says the major; 'you have been 'behind the scenes,' you see, Sam, and you have got a lesson not to trust to appeaivinces altogether. Rael life is one thing, and stage-representa- tion is another. The world ' behind the scenes,' and what is exhibited on the boord is as different as day is from night. It tan'tt all gold that glitters in this life, I can tell you. Jist so it is with * Sy Tupper's young spermaceti ;' for I see you want to spikilate in iles there. " ' When you double Cape Horn, as yer in hopes for to do, There 's a plenty of sparm-whale on the coast of Peru.' What a life for a man to be the wick of an ile lamp, ain't it? and have your wife snuffing you with her fingers. It's as bad as having your onquestionable ugly nose pulled. Oh, yes, take her by all means, only get ' behind the scenes' first, you have only seed her yet of an evenin', and then she was actin' rigged out for a party, a-smilin' and a-doin' sweet and pretty, and a-wearin' of her company face, and singin' like a canary-bird. But go into ' the green-room,' see her of a mornin', get a peep at a family scene, drop in on 'em of a sudden, onexpcctod like, and t^ee the old cat and her kitten a-caterwaulin' and clapper-clawin' each other till they make the fur fly, and you will be jist as much dumfoundcrcd as you was s.t the dancin' galls; you r.KIIIND THE SCRNES. 46 won't know her, that's n fact; you'll find that your beau- tiful ' spermaceti' has turned out nothin' but tallow, and damn bad tallow, too. Such critters run more nor half away to waste, and give more grease than light, by a long chalk. But come,' said he, ' s'posin' you and me settle our little account, for short reckonings make long friends, as the sayin' is. First, there is your five-dollar bet; then siy bottles of iced champaigne, at three dollars each, is eigh- teen dollars more ; and then two dollars for tickets, makes a total of twenty-five dollars ; do you undercumstand 1 Come into the iseter-shop here, and plank the pewter, and I will go sheers with you for a supper of iseters. It 's a considerable of a dear lesson, that; but it's the best you ever got, / know.' — 'Dear!' said I, a-countin' out of the money to him, ' I guess it is dear. If all my schoolin' in town-ways is to cost at that rate, I guess I'll have more I'arnin' than capital when I get thro' my trainin'. Twenty- five dollars for bein' made a fool on, for them dancin' galls to laugh at for two hours, what a pretty go that is, ain't it ? I must say I don't thank you a bit, major; it warn't pretty at all.' — ' Who the devil axed you for thanks V said he ; 'you have done better, you have paid for it, man, and boughten wit is always the best ; but you will thank one for it some o' these days, see if you don't. It's better to be made a fool on for two hours than for life. I have known a feller silly enough to marry a dancin' gall afore now ; but then he'd never been ' behind the scenes,' as you have; yes, it's a valuable lesson, that. Your old fogy of a parson that you are always a-talkin' of, old Hop — Hope something or other, may preach away to you till he is blind, but he can't I'arn you anytliing equal to that. It's a les- 46 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS ANE i)0ING9. son from life, and a lesson from life is worth a hundred sar- mons. In everything a'most, Sam, in this world, consider you are either deceived or liable to be deceived, aid that you can't trust even the evidence of your own senses, un- less you look ' behind the scenes.* But, come,' said he, * preaching is not my trade, let us walk into half a bushel of these iseters ; they are rael salts ; they come from Nova Scotia, and better than any we have, or the British either ;' and we sot to and did justice to them, at least he did, you may depend. He walked 'em into him as a duck does a June bug. He could open, pepper, and swaller a dozen to my one, for somehow I never could get my knife into the j'int of one until arter half an hour's bunglin' ; I hadn't got the knack.' ' You don't seem to like them,' said he, at last, a-drawin' breath, and a-swallerin' a gill of pure whis- key ; * p'l'aps you are too patriotic to eat blue-noses' iseters, and prefer the free citizens of our own beds V — ' Ko/ said I, * it tan't that; I can't open them, they are so oncommon tight about the jaws.' — 'Hem!' said he, 'I forgot that. You never seed an iseter, I do suppose, or a dancin'-gall nother afore to-night. Do as I do, younker ; this is the way : freeze down solid to it, square up to it, as M you was a-goin* to have an all out-door fight of it;' and he slipped 'em out o' the shells into his mouth as fast as a man dealin' cards, until he fairly finished all we had. * You don't drink,' said he ; ' now that's not wholesome ; you ought to take enough of the neat liquor to make 'em float light on the stomach ;' and he just tipt off" the balance of the whiskey without winkin'. ' Ah !' said he, making a wry face, ' that's no go ; that last iseter was not good ; it 's upsot me a-most ; call for some more, and I '11 be in agin in a minit; I must go into HEUIXD THK SCENES. 47 the air, for 1 feel dizzy.' Well, I called for some more iseters and some more whiskey, and I sot and worked away at my leisure, and waited for him to come back and pay his share of the shot. Woll, I waited and waited for ever so long, till I e'en a'most fell asleep, and still no major. At last, I began to get tired, so I knocks on the table with the han- dle of a knife for the nigger-help. ' Snowball,' says I, 'have you seen anything of the major? where on airth is he? I'm waitin' for him to settle the bill.' — ' Massa hab to wait den, one berry long time, sar ; de last iseter, sar, he always fix major's flint, sar, and make him cut his stick. You won't see him no more, sar ;' and he grinned from ear to ear like a cliessy-cat. ' De bill is four dollar, massa, and a quarter-dollar for Snowball.' — * Hem !' says I to myself, ' a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse ; I see it now ; I'm bilked ;' so. I paid it, and said no more on the subject. That was another peep * behind the scenes,' that ' he who incurs j'int expenses should look to the honesty and sol- vency of his partners.' " I did n't grudge the money for what I I'arned that night, altho' it came to a horrid sum, too — twenty-nine dollars and a quarter — for it 's worth every cent of it, that's a fact. But what did touch me to the quick was this: he drew the wool over my eyes so about Desire Tupper that I gin up a-goin' there, and then he cut in there and got the prize hisself; he did, upon my soul! All that talk about her temper was made out of whole cloth, and got up a pur- pose, along with her nickname of ' Spermaceti,' to put me out of consait of her, and it answered the purpose most beautiful. Yes, he did me most properly all the way through the chapter; but, p'raps, it will all turn out righv 48 BAM SLICK'S SAYIN{;S AND DOINGS. in the long luii, for I was too yomig tlien to uiarry, or to liaiidle so Tiuich iiionoy, for 'light conic' is plaguy apt to turn out • light go ;' hut, at the time, I was most peskily riled, I tell you ; and if I had a seed him when I was so oncom- mon wrathy, I do helieve, in my "^oul, I slumld have tanned his jacket for him, so that he would have heen a caution to bchoi 1. 1 am a good-uater'd man, and can hear spittiu' on; but hang me if I can stand and have it rubbed in that way. I didn't know what to do when I got home, whether to tel! the story or not ; but I knew it would leak out, and thought my own varsion of it would be the best, so 1 jist ups and tells father all about it, from first to last. 'He is a nasty, dirty, low-lived, mean feller,' says father, ' and a disgrace to the commission, though one comfort is, he ain't a rcg'lar, and never seed sarvice, and I dispise an ofiiccr that has never smelt powder. No man in the coun- try but a veteran desarves the name of soldier, and them, it ain't no vanity to say, are the first troops in the univarse — for the British have Avhippcd all the world, arid we whipped thom. Yes, he is a scoundrel,' said the old man; * but still the information you got is worth liavin'. It is a knowledge of tl"^ world, and that is invaluable ; although, from what I seed in the wars, I am most afeerd a man of the world ain't a man of much heart in a gineral way. Still, the knowin' it is worth the I'arnin' it. Acquire it, Sam, if you can; but you musn't pay too dear for it. Now, the major gin more for his vit than you.' — 'Possi- ble?' said I, 'why, how is that?' — 'Why,' says father, * he bought his at the expense of his character, and the leastest morsel of character in the v/orld is worth more nor all that is to be I'arnt ' hchiud the scenes'.' " THE BLACK BROTHER. 49 CHAPTER IV. THE CI.ACK BROTHER •' Yfs, squire," said tlio clockmnker, " there is nothin' like lookin' ' bcliind tlie sceiies' in this world. I rather j*ride myself on that lesson of Major Bradford. It came airly in life, and was, as he said, the best lesson I ever had. It made me an obsarvin' man. It taught me to look into things considerable sharp. I *ve given you a peep be- hind the scenes in assembly matters, so that you can ji.Jge how- far patriots and reformers show the painted face ; and at the theatre what devils little angels of dancin'-galls turn out sometimes ; and now I '11 tell you a story of ' the Black Brother,' to show you Ioav cantin' fellers can carry two faces, also, when they choose, for I've been 'behind the scenes' there, too. I mentioned to you afore, if you recol- lect, that we had a p})lit once to Slickville in our congre- gation, about the voluntary, and that som» of the upper- crust folks went oft" in a huff, and joined the ' Christian band,' as they called themselves, or the awakeners as we call 'em. "Well, these folks went the whole figur', and from bein' considerable proud men, affected great humility, and called each other ' brother,' and oidy associated with each other, and kept the rest of mp'ikind oif ai arm's length, as if they were lost ones, and it would contaminate them, Idee, to keep company with them. It broke poor old min- ister's heart a'most, for they parsccuted him artcrward most ( 50 SAM SLICK'S SAYINCJS AND DOINGS. dreadful ; there was notliin' too bad for them a'niost to say of the okl church, for in a gineral way thein that secede (lo7i't go off in peace^ hut. go off armed for a Jight, as if they e.rj)ectcd to he cJiased and. hrovght hack again. Pride and temper is alvwst always at the hottom. of schism, you ivill find. Ahab Meldruin was one of these superfine, overly good men, and jist about as parfect a specimen of a hypo- crit as I e'en a'most ever came across in all my travels. Well, I was to Ahab's one day a-settlin' some business with him, and a pretty tough job I had of it — for you might as well drag out an eyctooth, without lancin' the gum, as to drag a debt out of these whitewashed gentlemen — and who should come in but a scentorifevous black man, his woolly head all done up in roll-curls like cotton in the cardin' mills, and a large shovel-hat in his hand, and wear- in' a fine frill-shirt, and dressed off to the very nines, for a nigp-er is as fond of finery as a peacock is of iiis tail. They arc for spreadin' it out and a-struttin' about in it for ever and ever a'most. If there was a thi?ig on airth that Ahab hated like pison, I do believe it was a great bull-nigger ; so seein' him come in, in that free and easy manner, he looks up at him quit© stiff — for the better a man is, the prouder he grows in a gineral way — and, without biddin' him the time o' day (which wouldn't 'a' hurt him one morsel, tho' vhe crittur was as black as Comingo), or movin' from his chair, or axin' him to sit down, says he, * Well, sir, what brought you here? what's your business?' It made me laugh, for I kneio humility icas the dress-coat of j^ride, and that we was agoin' to have a scene, for I seed by the cut at he was a preacher. * Oh, massa,* jib said he, 'I is a broder labover in de Lord's wineyard, de THE BLACK BROTHER. 51 on worthy' (and he made a bow at that word, as much as to say, there is a peg for you to liang a compliment on, if you like), • de onworthy shepherd ob de little flock of free col- or'd Christians to Martin Vanburinvilie. I jist call'y, massa broder, to cossult you about some business ob " our little Christian band.'" — 'Sit down, sii, if you please,' says Ahab, a-colorin' up like anything, for he seed his own pro- fessions was set like a fox-trap afore him, and he knew it was nuts to me, and that I wouldn't spare him one mite or morsel. ' Sit down, sir.' — ' Tankey, sar, tankey,' said Dr. v^uery, for that was the nickname the crittur went by; 'how is all your consarns, and your leetle flock? I hope dey is all well, and none on 'em jumpin' de fence, and get- tin' out o' de fold, among neighbor's sheeps : mine gib me great bodder dat way, werry great bodder, indeed. Mine all shockin' fond ob music, and go whereber dere is de best singin'; but, I believe; we may stump any sec for dat, and werry fond ob Greek, too.' — '■ Of Greek !' said Ahab, who was dumbfoundcred at the turn things took ; ' did you say Greek ''' — ' Yes, massa,' said the doctor, 'of Greek;' and he i' V V v\ old, well-worn grammar from his pocket, and opeaih , .. aid, ' Broder,' said he, ' what you call him V p'intin' to a pitikilar word. * That,' said Ahab, who I seed was a-gittin' of his dander up quite fast, ' that is ^^ eureckar ^ — 'Ah,' said the doctor, 'I know him by sight, but I no recollect his name ; by golly ! but Greek him werry hard, werry hard, indeed. I try to I'arn a {q,"^ words, for dey sounds well in de pulpit, and look grand. Colored people no tinkey you know nottin', if you no gib 'em hard words sometimes ; and Broder Sly, he teach me to say 'em. Well, Broder Meldrum,' he says, at last, ' I is glad I " cu- 52 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. reeka'^ you SAM SLICK'S SAYINCS AND DOlNdS. l)ut wliat 1 'ni goin' for to tell you is a fact, I assure you. "VVlien a nigger is friglitencd or vexed, there is a parfume comes from liiin that's enough to stifle you. If you don't believe me, ask Lord — Lord — what the plague is his name that was out to the West Ingees? Well, dancin' the emancipation-dance with a black heifer there, e'en a'most killed him. It did, upon my soul ; it all but pison'd him. It's aw^ul, that's a fact. Well, this crittur Query so filled the room with it, it most choked me. I was glad to see him get up for to go, I tell you ; but what does he do but come round to Ahab to take leave of him. * Broder,' said he, 'fare-de-well; peace be wid you, my lubbin' fren* ;' and he held out his great ily black paw to shake hands with him. ; Poor Ahab ! he looked like a crittur that is a-goin' to be put in the stocks, resigned to his fate because he couldn't help himself, but mean enough, too. He prided himself on his hand, did Ahab, it was so small and so white. He used to say it was 'ristocratic, and that it would be a fortin for a single man like him to England ; and he actilly slept in gloves lined with pomatom to keep the freckles off; I hope I may be shot if he didn't. He was topgallant-sail proud of them, I tell you ; so he looked at the great piece of raw nigger-meat that was afore him with horror; and arter makin' all sorts of wry faces at it, as a gall does when she takes physic, he shut his eyes and dropped his hand into It. Oh, it was beautiful ! It did me good to see the hypocrite worked up that way. Query shook and wrung away at it, as a washwoman does at a wet towel, for ever so long; and, at ]nst, he let go his hold and went off, and Ahab drew in his hand, all stained yaller, as if it had been dipped into tobacco-juice. He held it out from him at THE BLACK BROTHER. 57 arm's-length, as a feller does that falls into the dirt, and n-bitln' in his breath, and curlin' up his nose as mad as a hear with his tail shot off', and went into the bedroom, and ^v ashed and scrubbed away at it like anything. When he was gone, I opened the winders and ventilated the room ; for it smelt as bad as one of the narrer alleys hi Old-Town Edinbro', or a slave-ship — it was shocking nosey, I tell you. As soon as he came back, says he, ' Sam, that poor feller means well, but he has mistaken his calling; he has too much levity, I fear, for a minister' — 'I give you joy,' gays I, * of your new " broder" and "feller-laborer in de wineyard." It sarves you right, so it does. If you had a stuck to your own church you wouldn't 'a' had to endure what you jist went thro', /know. No bishop would ordain that man ; for he would see with half an eye he had no sense, and waru't no way fit for it at all except to make things look ridikilous ; but, if anybody can go and choose preachers that please, as they do hogreeves at town-meet« in's, why can't niggers elect whom they please, too? it's a bad rule that won't work both ways. This comes o' schism — one error always leads to another. Now don't, for goodness' sake, make such everlastin' pretences as you do, unless your ^v&ctice keeps up to your professions. I hate hypocrites, and I won't spare you. Whenever folks talk of you and the Slickville schism, hang me if I don't tell 'em of rhe B/ack Broth -r^ 3 68 HAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. CHAPTER V. THB GREAT UNKNOWN. "Well, squire," said the clockmaker, "I'm glad you are goin' to England, too. I can guide you thro' Britain as well as I can thro' the states, or the provinces, for I 've been there often ; I know every part of it. They are strange folks them English, On pitikilars they know more than any people ; but on generals they are as ignorant as owls. Perhaps there ain't no place in the world such non- sense is talked as in parliament. They measure every one by themselves, as father did about his clothes. He always thought hisn ought to Jit all his boys, and proper laughing- stocks he made of us. Yes, you have made the Yankees and the blue-noses, squire, look pretty considerable foolish in them are two books of yourn. Stand on t'other tack now, and take a rise out of the British ; for fair play is a jewel, that's a fact. John Bull has been a-larfin' at us until his sides heaves like a broken-winded horse ; clap the currycomb on him now, and see if his hide is thicker than ourn ; for he is always a-sayin' that the Yankees are the most thin-skinned people in the world. There is a grand field in that country, you may depend, and a noble har- vest for you. Walk into 'em with your sickle, and cut and bind till you are tired j you will find employment enough, I tell 1/ou. We may have our weak points, and I should like to know who th*? plague hasn't; but John has both iig(i THE V.UKAT UNKNONVN. 69 '' IS a .1 it us '■■'> ) the than 3 the 1-^ rand har- and ugh, t-^u )uld .■a| )oth f: ' f. his weak ppots and soft spots, too, antl I '11 p'int 'em out to you, so that you can give him a sly poke that will make him ruu foul of consternation afore he knows it. I '11 show you how to settle his coffee for him without a fish-skin, I know, so begin as soon as you can, and as much sooner as you have a mind to." On n)y own part, I was no less pleased to have him with me ; for few men in British America have so intimate a knowledge of the character, feelings, and prejudices of the people of the colonies as Mr. Slick, or a more clear concep- tion of the policy that ought to be pursued toward them by the mother-country. So strongly was I impressed with this conviction, that I could not help expressing to him a hope that circumstances might arise during our visit to England to bring him in contact with some of the leading members of parliament, as I felt assured he could give most valuable and useful information on a subject which, though of immense importance, was but little understood. " Lord, sir," said he, ** I 've seen some on 'em when I was there afore (for I 've been three times to England), and know it well ; but they did n't want the right information, and so I bammed them — they did n't want facts to make opinions on, but facts to tally with opinions formed, like British travellers in the states, and I always stuflF such folks. I had a most curious 'venlur' when I was last in London. "I had been down city all day a-skullin' about, and trampoosing everywhere a'most to sell some stock in the canal that is to run through the pine barrens in the Quahog territory, that I bought for half nothin', and wanted to put off to advantage, and returned to my lodgings awful tired. uO HAM SLICK'S SAYIN(;S AND I)()1N(JS. nnd as wet-footed as a duck. I had jiKt drawed off my boots, got snug afore the fire, with a cigar in my inoutli ami uiy feet on the back of a chair, a-toastin' of them to tlic coals, when the servant maid opened the door and a gen- iknnan entered a-bowin' very ginteel, and say in', 'Mr. Slick, 1 presume.' — 'Well,' says I, ' I won't say I ain't; but won't you come to an anchor and be seated : you must excuse ine,' says I, 'a-gettin' up, for my feet is wet.' Well, he sot down and eyed me from head to foot, as if he thought 1 was a little onder baked, or not altogether right famished in the upper story. — 'Our humid climate,' says he, at last, * must be very different from the cloudless sky and pure air of Nova Scotia.' — 'Very,' says I, 'it rains here for ever- lastingly. ■ 1 have on?y seen the sun once since I came here, and then it looked as if it had the cholerd in the black stage; but my feet is what I complain of most. Now to i:omt I wear ingian rubbers; but they don't do on the pavements here; for they make you slide about as if you was on the ice. I had to leave them off, for I pitched into every one I met a'most, and it warn't pretty at all.' — 'How long is it,' said he, 'since you left Nova Scotia?' — Thinks I to myself, ' W^hat in natur' is this crittur' after ? I'll jist Craw him out by doin' simple.' Now that is natiir', squire. If ever you want to read a man, do simple, and he thinks he has a soft horn to deal with; and, while he s'poses he is i--playin' you off, you are puttin' the leake into him with- out his seein' it. Now, it you put on the knowin' it puts him on his guard directly, and he fights as shy as a loon. Talkin' cute, looks knavish; but talkin' soft, looks sappy. Nothin' will make a feller bark up a wrong tree like that: 60, without answerin' to the pint (that I might bring him -• I r THE GREAT UNKNOWN. 61 to \m buHiness), sayr I — 'for wet feet there is nothin' like toastin' them afore the fire : it draws Jie cold out, and keep3 it from flyin' to the stomack, and saves you a fit of the mulligrubs p'raps. I larnt that from the Tngians; they always sleep with their feet to the fire, and at night lays all in a circle round it like the spokes of awheel. I never yet seed an Ingiun with a cold in his nose.* — 'How verf/ good,' said he, 'what a close observer of natur' you are, sir. I shall remember that recipe of yours ; it is excellent.' — As much as to say, 'Well, if you don't beat Solomon, I bean't nobody.* Thinks I to myself, ' I dare say you will mind it, but more to laugh at than foller at any rate.' "At last, says he, thinkin' it was time to come to the pint, 'I am desired, sir, by a distinguished friend of mine, to request the favor of you to give him an interview when- ever it may be convenient to you, as he has heard mucb. of your knowledge of the provinces, and is anxious to get all the information he can previous to the Canada question coming on for discussion.' — 'Hem!' says I to myself, '7 wonder whether this is fact or bam. It do n't seem to hang very well together nother, but it mought be a bee for all that, as the old woman said when she looked into thc^ hornet's nest for honey.' So to prove him, says I, 'As to convenience, let me see — I must consider a bit, — to-morrow I go to Bristol, by Great Western Hallway, and next dav I make tracks for New York, so if I go at all I must go now.' — 'Now?' said he. — I seed it posed him, that he didn't expect it so soon. — 'Now?' said he agin, and he mused a bit; and then said he, 'I am sorry the time is so short, sir, but if you will be so kind, my carriage is at the door, and I will drive you there as soon as you are ready, for my 62 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. friend would be much disappointed in not having the pleas- ure of seeing you.' ' Civil enough too,' thinks I, ' and as I never seed a parliamentary big bug, I should like the chance, if it was only, like a colony delegate, to have it to brag on arter I got home; so I goes into the chamber, puts on a clean shirt-collar, slips on a pair of dry boots, and runs a comb through my hair. ' Now,' says I, when I comes back to the sittin'-room, 'let's up killock and off, for it's gettin' on considerably well in the arternoon, and is a'most daylight down, and if he sets me a-goin' on colony subjects I won't knew when to leave off, for it takes time to spin them yarns, I tell you! So we showed a leg right off, trot- ted down-stairs, and into the coach in no time, and says he to the driver, * Home !' — ' Home !' says I to myself; ' why, who the devil can this crittur be ? Is he a member'o son, or his writin' and cipherin' clerk, or a lover of one of the galls ? or who is he, th.it he says *• Home," for he must live there, that 's sartin ?' Well, I did n't like to ask him direct, for 1 knew I *d find it out soon, and so I let it pass. • And, squire,' said he, 'among the wrong notions the British have of us Yankees, one is about our etarnal curosity, and axing questions for ever abort nothin' a'most. Now, it happens to be jlst the revarse : we are not famous for axing ques- tions, but for never answerin' them.' Arter a while the coach stopped, and 'fore I could look round I was in the hall, surrounded by officers of the Life-Guards, dressed in the most beautiful toggery, at least so I took them to be, for their uniform was splendid ; I never see anything to equal it except the president's on reviewin' the troops on the fourth of July day. It made me wish I had brought my militia dress, for I did n't like one of our citizens to be THE GREAT UNKNOWN. 63 outdone that way, or not to do credit to our great nation when abroad. " ' Excuse me a moment,' said my guide-friend, * till I announce you;' and presently out comes another man dressed in plain clothes, and they stood there a space, a-eyin' of me, and a-whisperin' together. 'He won't do,' said the new-comer; 'look at his boots.' — 'It can't be helped,' said the other ; ' he must see him, he sent for him himself.' — 'Who the devil is he?' said the stranger; 'is he a delegate or a patriot member of assembly, or what is he, for he is the queerest lookin' devil I ever saw?' — • Hush !' said guide, ' he is the celebrated " Sam Slick," the Yankee cloekmaker ; and,' said he, ' they may talk about the feller's shrewdness as much as they please, but he is the d est fool I ever saw !' " ' Well,' says I to myself, ' this is rather pretty too, ain't it ? I guess you think flashin* in the pan scares ducks, don't you? One thing is sartin, tho' ; you don't often look in the glass, anyhow, or you 'd know the face of a fool when you see one, which is more, I estimate, than you do at this present time.' With that, guide said to one of the sodgfA-officers that was a-standin' in the hall a-doin' of nothfn', ' Show him up.' So one of them, a very tall, hand- some man, with his head all covered with powder, like a rat in a flour-barrel, come up and said, ' Your name, if you please, sir?' — 'Well,' says I, 'I don't know as it matters much about names, what's yourn ?' — 'Thomas, sir,' said he, a-bowin* and a-smilin' very perlite. ' Well, then,' said I, ' friend Thomas, mine is Mr. Slick, to the backbone.* I no sooner said the word, than he bawled out ' Mr. Slick' in my ear, as loud as he could roar, till be made me start T!^^WfW^^ ^' l1 (and he lins got 'em to put on, too, whicli is more nor half the Britisli have), as strong as a horse, and as supple as an eel. Well, when he is born, he isn't much bigger than a kitten ; a squallin', squcelin', kickcn, ongainly little whelp as you over sec a'most. Nom-, what is the first thing they do with him ] Why, they wash the young screetch-owl in an Eng- lish bowl ; wrap him up in English flannel, and fasten it with English pins; and th(Mi dress him in an English frock, with an English cap trimmed with English lace. If the crittur is sick, they give him English physic with an Eng- lish spoon ; and the very first word he I'arns to speak, is * English.' As soon as he begins to use his trotters, and run about, he has an English hat, shirt of English linen, coat of English cloth, and shoes of English leather. Arter that they send him to school, an' he writes with an English pen, made from an English quill by an English knife, uses English ink out of an English inkstand, and paper made in your country, and ruled \ni\\ an English pencil. He spells out of an English dictionary, and reads out of an English book. He has hardly learned what Ampersand means, afore tliey give him a horse, such as it is, and he puts an English bridle into his mouth, and an English saddle on his back, and whips the nasty, spavined, broken- winded brute, with an English whip ; and when he stumbles, and throws him off, he swears a bushel of horrid English oaths at him. He trims the great, shaggy, hairy beast with English scissors ; combs his nasty thick mane with an English comb, and curries his dirty hide with an English currycomb ; and then ties him up in his stall with an English halter. Then comes sportin'; and, to give the crittur his duo, he ain't a bad shot uother, seein' that he is fond of fowlin', or troutin', or any- SNUBBING A SNOB. < t tiiiiig but work. Gunniu' is Lis deliglit ; and a wild duvk, ;i moose, or a carriboo, when they see him a-comin' to par- stcute them, know it's gone goose with them. But where does liis gun come from ? and liis powder? and his shot? and his flask? and his belt ? why, clean away from England. Even his Hint comes from there, for there ain't a flintstone ill all Nova rScotia ; and if there was, the crittnr couldn't cut it into shape so as to be any use. He lian't the tools; and if he had, he don't know how. That's the reason, I suppose, any one a'most can 'fix his flint for liim.' It's more nateral this should be the case in gunnin' than in fish- in' ; but even here the chap can't help himself. Tho' the country is covered with wood, he iniports his rod, his net, his line, his lejids, and even his flies. He does, upon my soul ! altho' the forest is filled with flies big enough, and strong enough, to bite thro' a boot. As soon as his beard comes (and sometimes afore, for I have known boys actilly hhiivii/or a beard), why, he goes and gets a British glass to admire his young mug in ; he lathers his chin with an Eng- Thsh brush and English soap, a-lookin' as big as all out doors, and mows away at it with an English razor, sharpened on a British hone, and stropped on a British strop ; then he puts on an English collar, and ties it up with an English stock, and I hope I ma}' be skinned if he don't call him- self an EnglisliMrtw, A chip of the old block he is, too; and you\)g Blue-nose is as like old John as two peas, the same proud, consaited, self-sufiicient, know-nothin' crittur; a regular gag, that 's a fact." •' Why, really, sir," said Snob, who was much and very justly offended at this indecent language, "I don't under- stand " — "Oh! but you will understand," said Mr i' f 78 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 'I ■I, . *l-! ■\ Slick, " if you only hear nie out. In a gineral way, 'bout this time, he begins to feel raither pitikilar, and he pays a visit to the ' 'tropolis,' to see the world, for a man that han't been to the capitol has seed nothin' ; so, instead of taking a continental triP; as Eritialr boys do, he takes a coastin' trip in his father's shollop to that are great city of great men, Halifax. He fills his first office in this life, super- cargo of two or three jags of firewood, a dozen birch- brooms, a basket of bad eggs, a sick calf, and a measly pig; and, when he has squandered all the proceeds of the plunder a-l'arnin' to drink and swear like a man, he comes to tell of the wonderful sights he has seed, and talk reform politics. But, look to his vessel, ropes, sails, blocks, an- chor, bolts, copper, iron, compass, and all the other fixin's — where db they come from? Why, from where every part of the vessel except the sappy, buggy, dry-rotted wood she is built with comes from — from England. Look at the old battered watch he is rigged out with, the case half lead, half pewter, that he swapped his wood for on the wharf with a woman with a painted face and dirty stock- ings, who cheated him by calling him ' captain,* and * squire,' and 'your honor;' where did that watch, and that old trull come from ? from England, like the rest. '* The next thing the sinner looks out for is a gall, for few created critturs go a-gallin' so early as he does. He is hardly cleverly growed up and cut his mother's apron- string afore he is spliced. He never waits till he has a place to put his wife in, or anything to support her with ; he trusts luck for that, catches the bird first, and then makes the cage. Well, see how he goes about that; he cuts down the trees to build it with an axe of English iron, 1 SNUBBING A SNOB. 79 saws it with an English saw, planes it with an English plane, puts it together with English nails, driven by an English hammer, and then paints it with English paint and an Kncrlish brush. The sayhcs lias Eiigiiwh glass, kept in by English putty ; the doors are hung upon English hinges, and secured by English locks (against British thieves the', for they forgot to reform them afore they shipped them out) ; the floor is covered with imported carpets, the win- dows with imported curtains, and the fire made in imported stoves, and fixed with imported tongs and shovels. When he gives a house-warmin' to his friends — for he is rather amorous of a frolic — the plates, knives, and forks, decan- ters, and glasses, and everything else if English ; and, when the boys and galls go for to dance, hear the music, that's all. Pretty music it is, too, afore tunes came in fashion, I giless ; but hear it. English fifes, English flutes, English drums, English pianos, and English fiddles (not to mention Scotch ones, of which mum is the word). But what's the use of talkin'. If I was to tell you what they have got that they have to send to Britain for, it would take a month ; but I '11 tell you what don't come : wood, water, tone, and airth, is all that they can call their own, that doesn't come from England, unless it be a few housand wooden clocks I in-, troduced here, to let 'em know hen grog time of day comes. Well, the next house Blue-no.se gets into is a small one, where his nose and his toes touches the roof. You'd think he was done with England now, and that he could take nothin' out of the world with him, no more than he brought into it ; but he ain't finished yet. The goney wouldn't die happy if this was the case. He don't like to be separated from English manufactures even in death, for he is so used m 80 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. , I J and 80 attached to the Old Country, that he calls his own native land Nova Scotia, and England he calls — what do you think now ? — why, he calls it * home ;^ he does, upon my soul ! No, sir, the grave don't part 'em, nor death shut his pan nother, for, as soon as he is stiff, he is dressed in an English shroud, and screwed down with English screws into his coffin, that is covered with English cloth, and has a plate on it of English ware, for the worms to read his name and age on, if they have larned to spell. The minister claps on an English gownd, reads the English sarvice out of an English book, and the grave is filled up agin with airth shovelled in with an English shovel, while every man, wo- man, and child, that bears his name, pulls out an English handkerchief, to wipe their eyes and blow their noses with, iind buy as much English black cloth, crape, and what not, as would freight a vessel a'most ; for, havin' I'arned the multiplication-table airly in life, the number of his descend- ants would make you stare, I know. His children run the same rig round the same course, till they eend by being packed up in a snug pill-box in the same graveyard. And? yet, John Bull says colonies are no good. Why, the man is a drivellin', snivellin', divelin' idiot, an everlastin' born fool, that' s a fact." This second outbreak was more than the good-natured stranger could endure, and though amused myself at the rhodomontade style of his argument, I could not but par- ticipate in the annoyance he felt at these gross national re- flections. " Really, sir," said Snob, " this is too much. I " •' I '11 cut it short, then," said Mr. Slick, again misunder- standing him ; '• but it's all true, sir, for all tliat. Now, r «v^ SNUBBING A SNOB. 81 li.)w i.s colonist able to j^aij for all this almighty s wad of iiiaiiufactured plniul(?r, sceiu' that he has no gold nor silver; why, mainly hy his tunher, and yet them onfakilized, onder- hakc'd goiieys, the British, actually want to tax it and re- form out the trade, so as to give a preference to Baltic tim- ber. ' We do n't want colony timber,' says they. 'Don't you, tho' V says Blue-nose ; ' then I hope we may be tee- totally extinctified if we want your manufactures.' What's the name of your great-gun to Canada?" — "Do you mean Sir John Colbourne," said Snob. " No," replied Mr. Slick, "I don't mean the ' man-o'-war,' I mean the ' marchant- man.' Oh! I have it. Pullet Thompson. Well, Pullet will I'arn somethin' to Canada about timber he never knew afore, or it ain't no matter. When you see him, stump him ; ' Friend Pullet,' says you, ' when a log is hewed and squared can you tell the south side of it?' and if he don't answer it right off the reel (and I '11 go my death on it he can 't), tell him to send out the board of trade, ay, and the board of words, too, to Sam Slick, the clockmaker, to go to school for a spell, for he is jist the boy can teach 'em some- thing that ain't sot down in the reform bill, knowin' coons as they be. Yes, yir, if ever you was to Antwarp, you'd see what it is to lose colonies. When that place belonged to Holland, and had colonial trade, five thousand marchants used to meet on 'change ; now the exchange is left, but the marchant is gone. Look at the great docks built there at so much expense, and no shipping there. Look at one man-of-war for a navy that has a pennant as long as from to-day to the middle of next week, that can't get out for the Dutch forts, is of no use in, and, if it did get out, has no place to go to. Bon.'ijiarle said he wanted sliij)S. colonies, 4 lli 82 aAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. and commerce ; one fool makes many ! Every delegate, patriot, and humbug, that goes from here to London, if he gets by accident to a public dinner (for folks to see he ain't black), and is asked for a toast, rises up, lookin' as wise as a donkey, and says, * Ships, colonies, and commerce !' till it becomes a standin' toast. Bonaparte was a fool, and didn't know what he was a-talkin' about, for colonies means all three. Them that have colonies will lose the other two along with them. Yes, John Bull is a blamed blockhead, a cust " " Excuse me," said the stranger, rising and effecting his escape at last ; " but, really, sir, your language is so offensive, you must permit me to retire," and he very properly left the room. "Well, I didn't mean to offend him nother," said Mr. Slick, " I vow. There was no occa- sion for him to hop about as mad as a parched pea that way — was there? I am sorry he kicked afore he was spurred, tho', for I was only speakin' in a gineral way like. I wish he had heerd me out, too, for I was only a-breakin' of the crust when he began to look all wrath that way. I hadn't got rightly into the subject ; I only spoke of manu- factures, but that is merely one item ; there are many other political ones that he never heerd of, / know. But what can you expect of such critturs ? all they can do is to grunt like a pig at corn-time. The way they do n't know nothin' is most beautiful, and them that make speeches to England about the colonies, too. There ain't, p'raps, no one subject there is so much nonsense talked about as these provinces ; it's ridiculous, it makes me larf so it actilly busts my waist- coat-buttons of; it fairly gives me a stitch in the side, and, I must say, I do like, when I get a chance, to • Snub a Snob: " PATRIOTiyM, Oil THE TWO bHEARS'S. 83 CHAPTER VII. PATRIOTfSM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S. As soon as the conversation related in the preceding chapter had ceased, I committed the heads of it to paper, and as I intended tc proceed on the following day to New Brunswick, I retired early, in order to secure a good night's rest. In this expectation, however, I was disappointed. The bar, which adjoined my bedroom, now began to fill with strangers, travelling to and from the capital, and the thin wooden partition that separated us was insufficient to exclude the noise of so many voices. After awhile the confusion gradually subsided, by the greater part of the persons withdrawing to their several apartments, and the conversation assumed a more distinct and intelligible shape. The topic appeared to be the delegation sent from Canada on the subject of alleged grievances ; and I was glad to find, that, with the exception of one or two noisy, illiterate persons, every individual deplored the agitation that had recently affected the colonies, and denounced the system of " grievance mongering" that had prevailed of late years, as having a tendency to retard the real improvement of the country, and discourage tlie loyal and respectable portion of the inhabitants. " Jist so," said a person, whose voice I at once recog- nised as that of Mr. Slick's — "jist so, stranger; you are jist about half right, and there is no two ways about it. iir i! U i I' 84 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. Delegations are consideiaV)le nice jobs for them who want a ride across the Atlantic at the public expense, for noth- in' ; for demagogues, place-hunters, and humbugs, that want to make the unfives stare when they get back, by telling how big they talked, and what gi*eat things they did, to the great people and to the big-wigs to home. / did thio ; I did that; and so on. That's what Mackenzie did, wiien he told his folks to Canada, when he returned from delegatin', that he seed the king, who was very civil to him, and took a glass of grog with him ; and told him he was sorry he couldn't ask him to dine with him that day, for the queen was very busy, as it was whitewashin' day to the palace, and they was all in hubbub. ' For, Mac,' said he (smiling like a lael salt-water sailor), ' these leetle things, you know, must be done for kings as well as subjects, and women is women, whether their petticoats are made of silk or cotton, and the dear critturs will have their own way, eh, Mac? Our washin' we put out, but house-cleanin' must be done in the hous>. or not done at all ; there is no two ways about it : you understand me, Mac 1 Tell my people, when you return, if my governors don't behave better, d — n 'em ! I'll hang one or two of them as an example ! Good-by, Mac' And some on 'em was fools enough to believe the goney and his everlastin' lockrums, that's a fact, ^es, delega- tions play the very old Nick with a country. They hurt its credit, stop emigration, reform out decent folks, and in- jure its trade. People are afeerd of a country where there is agitation, for agitation is what the doctors call in cholera the premonitory symptom ; a sign that if active measures are not taken, rebellion ain't far off. But you colony chaps are gulled from year's eend to year's eend, hang me if you PATRIOTISM, Oil THE TWO SHEARS'S. 85 ain't. You are a nation siglit too well oflf, so you be; and ifvou was taxed like us Yaukees, or the ignorant British, iiud had to move round and mind your stops, so as to make t\v(» ecnds cleverly meet together when the year is out, it wuuld be better for you, I guess. One half of you don't know what you arc talkin' about ; and t' other half are goin' the vvhole figur' for patriotism. " Lord, I shall never forget a rise I once took out of an old kurnel to Baugor, the Honorable Uonrad Corncob. He rose to be a gincral arterward, but then he was only a kur- nel, and it's very odd, but you can tell a kurnel as far as you can see him. They 're all got a kind of schoolmaster look ; as much as to say, ' I am bothered to death with my boys, and will wallop the first one I catch like blazes, that comes with his " Please, sir, may I go out," " Master, here's Pete a-scroudgein," ' and so on. It's all wrote as plain in their face as a handbill. Well, he was ravin' about the dis- puted territory, a-blowin' up Mr. Harvey, the governor of New Brunswick, sky-high, and sayin' what he would do agin the Britishers, and, at last, he says, a-turnin' to me, and a-rollin' up his eyes like a duck in thunder, ' Mr. Slick,' says he, " dulce est pro patria mori." ' — ' What in natur' is that ]' says I, ' gineral, for I 've forgot what little Latin min- ister I'arned me to night-school ; and, in fact, I never was any great shakes at it, that's a fact.' — 'Why,' says he, ' " it's a sweet thing to die for one's country." ' — ' Well, I don't know,' says I, 'what you may think, but, somehow or another, I kinder think it's a plaguy sight sweeter thing to live by one's country; and, besides,' says I, 'I don't translate that are Latin line that way, at all.' — 'Possible]' says he : 'I don't see no other meanin' to it at all.' — ' I do, SQ SAM SLICK'S SAYINCJS AND DOINGS. then,' says I, 'and this is the way I turn it into English: ♦' rnori," the more I get, " pro patria," by the country, •' dulce est," the sweeter it is. And that's what I call patriotism in these days.' — Says he, ' Mr. Slick,' and he looked all round to see nobody was within hearin', and then puttin' his fingers on his nose, says he, ' Mr. Slick, I see you are up to snufF, and that it ain't easy to pull the wool over your eyes ; but atween you and me and the post, it wouldn't be a bad thing to be on full pay as a gineral for the winter months, when a body can 't do no business in the timber line to home, would it ? and my two sons on the staff, one on 'em with the rank of captai and the other of major ; do you take V — ' To be sure I do,' says I. ' I take well enough ; and, if them Maine folks will be such al- mighty " maniacs," as I call 'em, as to send out troops to the Brunswick line, you 'd be a fool if you didn't make your ned out o' them as well as anybody else, that's a fact.' — ' But, Mr. Slick,' said he, ' mum is the word, you know ; keep dark about it, and I '11 show you how to put the leak into folks;' and, then, turnin' round and puttin' himself in the fix of Webster, Clay, and some o' them great guns, he made as if he was addressin' of an assembly of citizens. 'Now,' said he, * I '11 show you I talk into them about the boundary : " Will you sell your birthright, my fellow- citizens ? — will you sell your birthright to the proud and insolent British ? I await yovu' answer. Will none speak ? Then none will be so base. Will you tamely submit to have your sacred soil polluted by benighted foreigners ? No. Let ]\[aine answer indignantly, No; let Florida echo it back ; let the mountains and valleys, the lakes and the rivers, take it up and reverberate in thunder. No. No, PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S. 87 tc'llow-citizens, let ns rather rally round the star-spangled banner of our great and glorious country. Let us, choosing tl'.at day that is consecrated to fame by the blood and hero- ism of our ancestors — the great day of independence — jlaiit our ih\(r on the ton'ifori/, and rampart it round with ihe bodies of our free and enlightened citizens. ' Dulee <'st pro patria mori.' " ' And then he bust out a-larfin', and staggered like over to the sophy, and laid down and haw- ha^ved like thunder. ' "Well, Slick,' said he, when he came to, ' what darned fools mankind are, to be so easily gulled by tliat are word " patriotism !" ain't they ? It fairly beats all, don't it?' — Now, strangers," said the clockmaker, "that's prct*.y mucli the case with delegations. As long ns them mis.ions are profitable things, delegates will be as plenty and grievances as thick as hops. If I was the min- ister I would receive them folks very civilly, and attend to their business if they had any, atid was recommended by the govirKnr : but I never M'ould encourage agitation, and hold odt a y^.rcmium for it, by rewardin' agitators themselves with appoi'.itinents. A trade won't he followed long that ain't a f'cfitahle one, thaVs a fact. I'll tell you a story." — "Do," paid the company; "let's hear your story;" and the motion of the chairs indicated a closing in of the listen- ers round the speaker. " About forty years ago, or there- abouts, I tfiink it is," said Mr. Slick, " if my memory sarves me ri<;ht, tncre was a rebellion to Ireland. Patriots were ;is thick ,",« toads arter a rain-storm ; they was found in every nirn's path a'most, and they stirred up a tempestical time of i;, you may depend. They began with grievances and speeeh-makin', and all that sort of thing, just as they did t 'other day to Canidy, and it eended the same way. «8 SAM SLICK'S SAYIN(JS ANU DOINCIS. It '.vas put down niter n good many poor dohidcd ciittuis lost tlit'ir lives in the field. Then fame the day of reck- onin', and thty caught some o' the leaders and hanged them, tho' most of the first chopmen cut and run, as they always do in sucli like cases, considerable cranky. Among the rest that they nabbed was two brothers, the two Shears'.'^. Well, folks pitied these two men a great deal too ; they said they ailly was in earnest, and had no private eends to sarve, like most of the patriots, but was led astray by artful men. They said that nothin' could excuse the horrid murders, and blood, and distress, caused by their doin's ; but still, somehow or another, there was so much courage and darin', and eloquence, and elevation of mind like, about these two men, they did railly grudge the gallus its due, that time, anyhow, and kind o' sorter felt as if they'd a-been glad if they had got off. But, no. Nothin' would do. Govern- ment said a just severity would be a raarcy in the eend, for it would deter men from follerin' sich a bad example, and they was jist hanged and beheaded. It excited quite a sensation like. People felt considerable streaked about it ; pitied 'em, mourned 'em, and, as usual, forgot 'em. Well, last summer I was to Dublin, and, arter I had finished my trade there, bavin' a little time on my hands, I goes about to see the castle, customhouse, college, and what not of curiosities — for Dublin is worth seein', I tell you: it takes the shine off of most cities — and, at last, I heard there was a place under St. ]\[iclian's church, where bodies never de- cayed one mite or morsel, but kept as fresh as the day they died, and as sweet as a pot of butter in an ice-house. So, thinks I, 'That's curous, too; hang me if I don't go and see it. I have heerd tell of such a thing, but I never see PATRIOTISM, Oil THE TWO SHEARS'S. 89 flic like of tliat, and it must be worth lookin' at.' So off I sot, with aJi ohi East-India captain, that was a-stayin' there to the Shclburne inn, to Stephen's green — quite a spooney ohl boy as you'd see in a liundred — and when I got to tlie churcli, I hired the okl saxton-woman, or wliatever they call her, to let me in. What does she do but lights two candles; on(! on 'ein she gives me, and t'other one she keeps in her own hand, and onlockin' the door, down we goes into the vault. Well, there warn't any onpleasant smell in it at all, tho' the floor seem covered with fat crum- bly black soil like, that felt greasy onder foot, and as far as 1 know, might a-been human ; and, railly, as I am a livin* sinner, I hope I may die this blessed minit if the corpses warn't jist as nateral as life. Well, there were three on 'em on the floor : two on 'em, that was men, had their heads off, but the third was a woman ; and the coffins had rolled off and fallen away to powder ; and they had noth- iii' over them at all, but there they laid on the floor like dead dogs, as naked as when they was born. ' Well,' says I to the woman, says I, ' if that don''t beat all, too; why, nothin' has decayed about them men, but the chords of their necks. Their heads is off; how strange that is, ain't it? what made their heads go for it, and no other part? what on airth is the meanin' o' that V " Here another gen- eral move of the chairs in the bar-room showed the in- creasing interest o" the company in his narrative, as they closed in still fuither, and contracted their circle. '"Why, their heads ain't gone, your honor,' ^aid she (for all Irish people say ' your honor' to you when there is anything to be got by it), ' they have got them in their laps, and are a-holdin' of them in their hands : see ;' and she lifted up 4* •Ki 90 SAM KLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. one of their heads, and turned its ghastly face round toward me, and its eyeless socket stared ^lorrid ; while the mouth, nil contracted, showed the teeth and looked wicked ugly, I tell you, with an expression o' pain and sufferin' that was dreadful to behold. I didn't get that head out o' my Jicad one while, I tell you. It fairly harnted me; and I fancied I seed it arterward, when I went to bed, for the matter of two or three nights, one arter the other. Dead bodies ain't very pretty things at no time; I cr.n't jist say I am fond of them, and I most wonder, somehow, how doctors don't get sick of them, too. Brother Eldad was always a-buyin' of them, jist for the pleasure of whitlin' of them with his knife, and every drawer and trunk he had a'most, had an arm, or leg, or somethin' or another, in it. I believe, in my soul, he never buried one agin that he dug up, for he seemed to owe the worms a grudge, so he did ; but, as I was a-say- in', they had their heads in their laps. ' Well,' says I to the old woman, says I, 'is th-^t St. Dennis? for he is the only man I ever heerd tell of that undertook to walk off with his head onder his arm arter that fashion — who onder the sun is he ?' — ' Why,' says she, ' them two men are two brothers: they was hanged and beheaded in the rebellion; they are " the. tivo Shears's ;'' han't they kept well intirely. Now give that cratur next to your honor,' said she, * a prod with the foot and turn him over, and see how beautiful the corpse looks, where the air ain't C(/nie to the back.' — * No,' says I, ' not I, indeed ; I always feels kinder onswoggled like at dead bodies; it makes my flesh crawl all over, and I won't lay foot to 'em for nothin', a'most, for it's ondecent to kick 'em about with your io<.t that way, as if it was a carcass of pork.' — ' Why, they won't bite, your honor,' said PATRIOTISM, OR THE TWO SHEARS'S. 91 slie, * tlio' they do show their teeth ; and, by the powers, I am not at'eerd of any man that ever was, dead or alive ; so I'll give lim a roll over, if you'd like to see the other side of him. He is as light as a baby, he is so dry.' — 'No,' tuys I, 'jist let him be; it don't seem jist altogether right. Let him be where he is.' — '"Well, then,' said she, ' obsarve, your honor, how nateral the limbs looks. See the great toe, how it forks out, strainin' as if seekia' for support for the body, when hangin' ; and the cords of the legs, how hard and crampt they be. The hands, too, are con- vulsed, and the fingers clenched in the agonies like a vio- lent death. It's a beautiful sight intirely. People say they arc great curiosities, them, and that it's worth goin* many a long mile to see, and a crown-piece to get a sight of tliem. Most gentlemen give me five shillings for my tnmble ; and, once, Lord Argent gave me a sov — ' "'Well, well,' says I, a-stoppin' of her gab about the pay, for women in a gineral way never 'ose sight of the main chance one blessed mlnit — 'well, says I, '"is this the reward of patriotism," to be hanged and beheaded, and then left kicking about here on the floor, like dead rats? Lawful heart! why don't them patriots (for some on 'em are at the top of the pot now) — why don't they clap 'em into a coilin, bury 'em decently, and put a monument over them, and bhow their pity or their gratitude, if they have any. If it ain't lit to make a fuss about folks that was hanged — and they actilly d'd de&arve what they caught that time — why on airth han't they the decency to inter 'cm privately, and jist put up a stone with their names on it, to show where they be, and who they be ? It's enough to make a man sick of patriotism this, I'll he hanged my- m I '^r 92 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. self if it ain't. It is hard to say wliicli is was, to see pa- triots forgit their country, or the country forgitten patriots, for it happens both ways.' — 'Don't call it patriotism,' said the sea-captain, who stood all the time a-sniflin' and a-snivelin' like a child (he did, upon my soul !) ; ' don't dig- nify the crime o' rebellion, which is an offence against the laws of God and man, by such a name. The innocent blood which they caused to be poured out like water called for the just but heavy retribution of shedd'.ng their own.' — ' Well,' says I, 'thorn whoso cause the^. took hold on might bury 'em, at any rate. It wouldn't hurt 'cm one mite or morsel to do that much, I am sure.' — • Patriots,' said he, * in gineral, are too busy in consartin' scheme; for their own aggrandizement to have time to think of the dead, or care for the livin' either. The very name of " patriot" awakens no other idea than that of the con'ardly assassin, or midnight incendiary. Patriotism and the worst species of crime have become synonymous.' — 'Call 'em i^a.i-riots, then,' says I, ' if you ple.ise, or christen them anything you like : but they ought to be buried, anyhow. -' So they had ought,' said he. ' Poor unfortunate n.;jn ! the victims of your own folly, and the villany of your more subtle and designing accomplices, I pxty you — I pity jou from my heart, and will ask permission to perform the last sad office for you, and see that your bodies repose in peace at last. Ah ! my good friend,' said he, ' 1k».vi they read theii bible more, and seditious painphlets less, they might have escaped this ignominious end. They would have observed the pre- cept of the psalmist : *' Fear God, honor tlie king, and med- dle not with tltnn that are ginn to ihatige.'" ' — 'Stranger,' said I — for I didn't see what right ho had for to go for to TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 98 preach to me — ' as for fearin' the Lord,' says J, ' I guess 1 was always brought up to that since I was knee-high, or so, to a cluiw of tobacco ; and as for a king, we han't got none, and ain't likely to have one. "We have nothin' but a president, and he is a divil outlawed, for he is nothin' but a niit^ciable, despicable loco-foco. Now,' says I, ' if you can find anywhere that an everlastin', miserable skunk of a loco- foco is desarvin' o f hoi lor, wii h but he would ntheai me out, but jist walked away a bit, a-sayin' of ' Oh ! oh ! oh !' as if he had a fit of the colic, and a-wavin' of his hand up and down, as a freemason does at a funeral. The crittur was a considerable of a spooney, that 's a fact ; but, greenhorn as he was, he warn't far out in his latitude about politics, I tell you. Whenever I hear ' how sweet it is' to die for one's country,' patriotism, and such stufip, I always think of them two Shears's, and the reward they got at the time, and now^ receive from posterity, *Jor mcddlirH with tli'^th that are given to change.'' " 94 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. CHAPTER VIII. TOO KNOWING BY HALF. Instead of embarking at Windsor in the steamer for New Biunswick, as we had originally designed, Mr. Slick proposed driving me in his wagon to Horton, by the Mount Denson route, that I might have an opportunity of seeing what lie pronounced to be some of the most beautiful sce- nery in the province. Having arranged v/ith 'he com- mander of the boat to call for us at the bluif, we set out accoidingly a few hours before high- water, and proceeded at our leisure through the lower part of Falmouth. Mr. Slick, as the reader no doubt has observed, had a good deal of extravagance of manner about him, and was not less remari^able for his exaggeration of language, and, therefore, I was by no means prepared to find a scene of such exquisite beauty as now lay before me. I had seen at different periods of my life a good deal of Europe, and much of America ; but I have seldom seen anything to be compared to the \ lew of the basin of Minas and its adjacent landscape, as it presents itself to you on your ascent of Mount Denson ; and yet, strange to say, so little is it known or appreciated here, that I never recollect to have heard it spoken of before, as anything remarkable. I am not vriting a book of travels, and shall not atienipt, there- fore, to describe it. 1 am sketching character not scenerv, &x,d puali content myself by recommending all Americrin y ■&'->. TOO KNOWINTx BY HALF. 95 tourists to visit Mount Denson. It is an old saying of the Fr(Micli, that he who has not seen Paris has seen nothing. ]n like manner, ho who travels on this continent, and does not spend a few days on the shores of this beautiful and ex- traordinary basin, may be said to have missed one of the greatest attractions on this side of the water. Here, too, may bo studied the phenomena of tides, that are only presented to the same extent in one other part of the world ; while the iiiiiioralogist and geologist will find much to employ and interest him. It possesses, also, the charm of novelty. It lies out of the beaton track, and is new. In these days of st(\*un how long will this be the case anywhere ? While musing on this subject, my utteiition was directed by Mr. Slick, who suddenly reined up his horse, to a scene of a ditl'oreut description, "There," said he, "there is a pictur' for you, squire. Now, that's what minister would call love in a cottage, or rural felicity, for he was fond of fine names was the old man." A neat and pretty little cottage stood before us as we emerged from a wood, having an air of comfort about it not often found in the forest, where the necessaries of life demand and engross all llie attention of the settler, " Look at that crittur," said lie, " Bill Dill :\nil. There he sets on the gate, with his go-to-meetin' clothes on, a-doin' of noth- in', with a pocket full of potatoes, cuttin' them up into small pieces with his jacknife, and teachin' a pig to jump up and catch 'em in his mouth. It's the schoolmastei' to home, that. And there sets his vouu"; wife a-balancin' of herself on the to]) rail of the fence opposite, and a-s\vingin' her foot backward and forrerd, and a-watchin' of hirn. Ain't "io a heavenly splice, that? By Jacob's spotted cattle, ( 1 tiMi jvwin^ 9G SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND Dr.lNCS. what an ankle she has ! Jist look ! a rael coin-fod heifer, that, ain't she ? She is so plump she'd shed rain like a duck. Them Blue-noses do beat all in galls, I must say, for they raise some desperate handsome ones. But then there is nothin' in that crlttur. She is nothin' but wax- work — no life there ; and he looks tired of his bargain al- ready — what yon called l;jirly onswaggled. Now, don't speak loud, for if she sees us she'll cut and run like a weasel. She has got her ha'^ , ■• c-/vered c- . ^ .1. laper- curls, and stuck thro' with ■,'>■■.-, ''' - a i^r,^ ^i^, 5, ',.. o-^^k. She's for a tea-squall to-i gh*, ! 1 notl '< i' / " es "■ .nen like bein' taken of a no h,(it! 11 ,;his w.T. , M,. ,gers. That's matiimony, squire, and ■ othin' t \-; . honey- moon in the woods or you " iv^ve grow u te.. days old. Oh, dear! if it was me, I shouid yawn so afort a week, I should be skeerd lest my wife should jump down my throat. To be left alone tluit way idle, with a wife that has nothin' to do and nothin' to say, if she was as pretty as an angcd, would drive me melancholy mad. I should either get up a quarrel for vanity sake, or go hang myself to got out of the scrape. A tame, vacant, (h)ll-faced, idle gall! Lord ! what a fate for a man who knows M'hat 's what, and is up to snuff! Who the phigue can live on sugar-candy \ I am sure T could n't. Notliin' doe' for me like honey ; arter a while 1 get to hate it like sin ) the vary sight of it is enough for nie. VililtHlir Hili't half so bad ; fol that stimulates, and you can't take more nor enough of it if you would. Sense is better nor locdis any tinui ; but when sense and looks goes together, why, I hen a woman is worth bavin', that's a fiu'l, Hill lli-^ best of the joke is, that crittur Bill Hill IMill has 1'ouimI out he 'knows too TOO KNOWING BY HALF. 97 inucli,' and is most frcttiu' himself to death about it. Ho is act illy piuiu' away so, that it will soon take two such n.iii put together to make a shadow; and this I will say, that he is the first feller ever I met that actilly was ^ too hnowin by half.' But time progresses, and so must we, I pucss." 'I'lic noise of the wagon, as Mr. Slick anticipated, soon jiiit the young bride of the woods to flight, and a few hasty and agile bounds carried her to the house ; but her curi- osity proved quite as strong as her vanity, for the paper head was again visible, peeping over the window-blind. The bridegroom put up his knife with an air of confusion, as if he was half ashamed of his employment, and having given a nod of recognition to Mr. Slick, turned and followed his wife into the cottage. " 'J'his is the effect," said ^Mr. Slick, " of a want of steady habits of industry. That man lives by tradin', and bein' a cute chap, and always gittin' the right eend of the bargain, folks don't think it a profitable business to sell always to a loss; so he says he is ruined by hnou-in' too much. * Ah !' said he to me, the other day, ' I don't know what on r.irth I shall do, ]Mr. Slick ; but 1 am up a tree, you may depend. It's gone goose with me, I tell you. People have such a liigh opinion of my judgment, and think I know so 7nuch, tlicy ^^•on't buy nor sell with me. If 1 go to an auction, mil 1 l)id, people say, " Oh, if Bill Dill Mill bids, then it I lie chea})," and it goes beyond its valy right away. It 1 go to Kell anything, every one thinks I wouldn't sell it if 1 hadn't a very good reason for it, fori am too knou-lrC lor that. If I offer to swap, I only stamp a valy on the tiling I want, and put it right out of my reach; for the 1 , ■ %' „o IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^<^^ ^ #/ .! ''^ 'IKS!' , I 112 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ito, ;l Mi ■I O Sam ! if our friends — tliem that we dearly loved — base- ly desert us at last, and meanly betray us ; if them wc ad- iTiitted to our confidence, and folded with affection to our bosoms, pour into that fountain the waters of bitterness, and pollute it at its source, better, far better, that we had died first. I could have met my eend as became my voca- tion and my principles, had the blow been dealt out by ene- mies, Sam ; but, oh ! it came from my friends, from them I loved as brothers, nay, more than as brothers, as children. It was too much for my narves. It overpowered my strength, and I hid my face in my hands, as Coesar did in his mantle, and wept like a child. Ei tu, said I — for I couldn't help a-thinkin' of that are old republican hero, for it was jist the way them are pretended reformers sarved him out — et tu, says I, et tu Brute P — ' You might well say a brute,' says I ; ' and if I had a-been near hand to ihem, I 'd a sarved them like a brute, too, I know. I *d a-cropt their ears, and branded them on the rump, as they do a horse that 's turned out on the common in the fall. J 'd a marked them V. B. (the voluntary brutes !), hang me if I would n't. I 'd a-kicked them till I kicked their west- ern eends up to their shoulders, and made 'em cany em (here like a mason's hod : " Sich a gittin' up stairs you never did see."' — 'Sam,' said he, 'you actilly frighten me, you talk so savage ; it makes my blood run cold. Let UB leave the subject, and go right back to what we was a-talkin' of;' and he passed his hand over his face hard, as if to shove back the expression o' pain and sorrow that was there, and keep it out of view ; and, then, said he, a-lookin' up all bright agin, ' Where was we, Sam ? for my mind goes a wool-gathering sometimes, and gets confused. I ' I MATRIMONY. 118 Where wa8 wc ?' — ' A-talkin' of the galls,' says I. ' Ex- actly,' says he; 'it's a pler-^anter topic that, and the con- templation of the dear crittnrs softens our naturs, *^nec sinit essefrros,'" nor suffers us to he ferocious. Nothin' tames a mnn like a woman.' — 'I guess so,' says I. *Yes, my son,' said he, ' get married, and marry soon ; it 's time you were a-t1iinkin' on it now in airnest.' — 'Well, I feel most plnguily skeared, minister,' says I, ' to try, for if once you get into the wrong hox, and the door is locked on you, there is no escape as I see; and, besides, women are so everlastin' full of tricks, and so cunnin' in hiden *em afore- hnnd, that it *8 no easy matter to tell whether the bait has a hook in it or not ; and if you go a-playin' round it and a-nibblin' at it, why, a sudden jerk given by a skilful hand may whip it into your gills afore you know where you be, and your flint is fixed as shure as there are snakes in Var- giny. You may tug, and pull, and haul back till you are tired ; but the more obstropolous you become, the faster the hook is fixed in, and the sorer the place is. Nothin' a'most is left for you but to come up to the line, and sub- mit to your fate. Now, if you go for to take a widder, they are shocking apt to know too much, and are infarnal sly ; and if you take a maid, it 's an even chance if you do n't spile her in breakin' her in, and she do n't bolt and refuse a heavy pull. If they are too old they are apt to be headstrong from havin' had their head so long ; and if they are too young, they are hardly waywise enough to be pleas- ant. Which now do you recommend, minister — widder or maid ?' Poor old crittur ! I knowd well enough he did n't know notl about it, havin' had no experience among wo- men any more nor a child ; but I axed him to humor him, 6» ''■■ '■'* I'^h Vn^ i I 114 sJAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ' i i!i i! irv ' \M wn for most men I'ke to be tliought knowin' on that subject. * Why,' aays he, a-lookJng up wiselike, ' that 's a matter of taste, Sam ; some prefers one, and some prefers the other.* (So like human natur' that, warn't it, squire ? You never heerd a man in your life, when axed about woman, say, * That 's a subject I ain't jit?t altogether able to speak on,' and yet plaguy few know mucn more about 'em than that women wear petticoats, and men do n't.) ♦ It 's quite a mat- ter of taste,' said he ; * but, as far as my experience goes,' says the old man, •! am half inclined to opinionate that widders make the best wives. Havin' lost a husband, they know the slender tenure we have of life, and are apt to be more considerate, more kind, and more tender, than maids. At all events, there is enough in the idea to put them on equal tarms. I guess it *s six of one and half a dozen of t* other, not much to choose any way. But, whichever it be, you must prove their temper first and their notions ; see what sort o' sisters and darters they make; try — but, dear me ! how late it is,' said he, a-lookin' at his vi'.ch, - how late it is ! I must go, for I have a sick visit. I .still visit my dear lost flov.k, as if they hadn't a-used me so ill, Sam. I forgive them, all of 'em. T do n't iiaibor any hard thoughts agin any of them. I pity 'em, and always remember 'em in my prayers, for our religion is a religion of the heart, and not of the head, as political dissent is. Yes, I must go, now ; but I '11 give you a word of advice at partin', my dear ^ " Don't marry too 'poor a gall, for they are apt to think there is no cend to their husha^id's puss ; nor too rich a gall, for they are apt to remind you of it on- pimsant sometimes ; nor too giddy a gall, for they mghrt their families ; nor too demure a one, for they are most apt It: i MATRIMONY. 115 to give you, the doJge, race oJf\ and leave you; jior one of a (Jijferent ssect, for it breeds discord ; uor a weak minded one, for children take all their talents from their mothers ; nor a — ' * Lord !' Bays I, * minister, how you skeer a body ! Where onder the sun will you find a nonsuch like what you describe ? There ain't actilly no such critturs among women.' — ' I '1? tell you, my son,' said he, 'for I'd like afore I die to see you well mated ; I wouM, indeed I I *11 tell you, tho' you talk to me sometimes as if I did n't know nothin' of women. You think nobody can't know 'em hut them ae romp all their days with them as you do ; but them, let me tell you, know the least, for they are only acquainted with the least deserving. I '11 gin you a gage to know 'em by that is almost invariable, universal, infalli- ble. The character and conduct of the mother is a sure and certain guaranty for t?iat of the darter* " . .i ir Ife'li' CHAPTER X. THE WOODEN HOSSE. mi No perfion on entering the harbor of St. John for the first time, could suppose that it was the outlet of one of the largest rivers on the American continent, as it is in no way to be distinguished in appearance from any of those numerous inlets of the sea that render the coast of the British provinces everywhere accessible to ships of the largest class. As soon, however, as he gets a viev/ of this noble stream, and becomes acquainted with its magnitude, he feels that Saint John is destined by nature, as well as the activity and intelligence of its inhabitants, to become the next largest city to New York on this continent. " Sensible folks, these Brunswickers," said Mr. Slick ; " rael right down men of bisness, and no miijtake. They don't take it all out in talkin', as some people do. If they have any politics to do, they do it, as they load a vessel, as fast as they can do it well, and a-done with it. They are jist a pattern to them Canady goneys to cut their gar- ment by, if they had the sense to follow it. I met old Jeremiah Sterling this mornin' ; you have heerd tell of him, squire 1 he is the richest man in the city. He is an 0. F. M., as we call Our First Men among us. ' Well,' says 1, * friend Jeremiah, how do you kinder sorter find yourself to-day?* — 'Why, kinder sorter middlin',' says he, 'Mr. Slick ; what you call considerable nimble and spry. We I THK WOODEN HORSE. 117 are gitten on well here, very well, indeed. We have a good many 'sponsible men grow'd up here since you was this way, and our credit is good. We stand No. 1, letter A.' — 'Well,' says I, 'if it is, it won't be that way long, I can tell you ; the lep.s you talk about 'sponsibility the bet- ter the English marchants and Wall-street brokers will trust you, I know.' — 'Why,' says he, 'what on airth are you a-talkin' about ? I don't onderstand you ; you are at your old trick of riddlin' ?' — 'Why,' says I, 'responsible government, to be sure. Did n't you say you had a good many 'sponsible men grow'd up here lately?' — 'Well, that 's notable,' said he. ' Lawful heart if that don't beat gineral trainin' ! How could you suppose I meant such cattle as them ? No,' says he, * come with me, and I'll indicate what 'sponsibility is, for the street is no place to talk over such matters in,' and he took me into his countin* room, and, touchin' a spring, opened a great iron door, and then onlocked another of the same kind, and showed me a great iron safe, on wheels like a gun-carriage. Well, it was chock full of doubloons and sovereigns, and splendid American eagles ; it was actilly good for sore eyes to look at 'em ! and then he opened another, filled half way up to the top with bank-paper, notes of hand, bonds, and mort- gages, and stuff of that kind. He stood for the whole endurin' space of five minutes a-contemplatin' of it, without sayin' of a word, only smilin'. At last, says he, ' Slick,' (and he let down the lid with a slam that smelt of thunder) ' that 's what / call ^sponsihiUfy. I did n't airn that little lop cf specie a-talkin' over 2^olitics, you may depend, but talkin' over customers. Your 'sponsible men want no in- dorsers, do you twig? Now, who has most interest in :H 118 SAM SUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGsi. Ill- I'"' . I fl i. Ml, I ifei ii takin* caio of that '• stake," that it don't go for it by fire, or sympathizers, or what not — me, or that are chatterin', jawin' watchman of mine ?' — 'Why, you,' says I, 'you, of course.' — 'Exactly,' says he; 'and so it is in politics. Them critturs that race about like a runawarj steamboat^ cal- liri' '•''fire ! fire /" and dhturhin! all honest folks in their beds, cuss 'etn ! they have nothi'n' to lose by a fire if it does come : but in the scramble they generally find somethin' or another to 2)ick up that they didii't work for. Now them chaps, patriots, Durliamites, arsondaries, and what not, to Canady, remind me of our engine-men. Any engine that gets to a fire first, if it's only a chimbly a-blazin', gets five pounds out of the pockets of the people. Cryin' fire is a j^rofitable trade in more things than one.^ "Jeremiah was right, squire. It's a pity government ever listened to colonial agitators. It was erroneous con- siderable. It would have been better for England, and better for the colonies, too, if they had n't, and that they '11 find some o' these days, or my name is not Sam Slick. But John wants a commission o' lunacy taken out; the foolish old crittur actilly seems possest. Concession never stopt agitation since the world was firdt squeezed out of a curd — it only feeds it. Throwin' sops to varmint only brings 'em back agin ; and when you have nothin' more to throw to 'em, they are plaguy apt to turn and tare you to pieces. It puts me in mind of the wooden horse to Java. " That time I took the whalin' trip, we stopt to Java : well, jist then there was a native chief there, that almost drove the Dutch off the island. He cut off their outposts, broke up their settlements, druv away their cattle, seezed their galls, and kicked up a regular built tornado. The THE WOODEN HORSE. 119 Dutch governor, old Vaiidam, who was as fat and heavy as a December bear, was fairly explunctified : he did ir.'t know what onder the sun to do. He was in a most awful feese. All he could say when people came with news, was • Tons- and Teyvils ;' and the chief gave him news enough to say it all day long, until finally the outlaw-gentleman went by the nickname of * Tousand Teyvils.' At last the governor took a tub of tobacco, and a keg of good hollauds, and a dozen of his best pipes, and shot himself up in his castle for two whole days and two whole nights, to study the ins and outs of the matter alone ; • For talkin',' he said, 'always put him out like a wrong figure in the first part of a sum, and he had to go over it all agin from the beginnin'.' Well, at the eend of the two days and two nights the governor opened the door and ordered in more pipes and more skidam and schnap-glasses, and then sent for his council, and nodded to them to set down ; for he was a man of few words, was old Vandam, his maxim bein', that them that talked well was seldom good for nothin' else ; and the councillors squatted low and did n't say a word. Then he looked at the liquor, and then at the glasses, and the servant filled them up chock full ; and then he looked at the door, and the servant went out and shot it to after him. A Dutchman's eye don't often speak much ; but when it has any expression in it, it speaks to the p'int, you may depend. Well, he motioned to them to drink, and they drank off their Hollands and smacked their lips : for if his liquor warn't good, I want to know whose was, that's all. * Oh, mine Cot !' says the governor, takin' the pipe out of his mouth, and Icttin' go a great long roll of smoke, as big as what comes from a steamboat, ' oh, Goten Hyramel ! I have iamj^igg.g.g!!i"jjjji .|.!!ii 120 bAM SLICK'S SAYlNOa AND DOINGS. Ml l#'i..ti mi : li ii II ill !, i \ m got one idea, and you shall see varte you shall see;' and he winked to them knowin' like, and sot dovn again. It was a long speech for the governor; but he got thro' it, for he had mado up his mind ; and when once a Dutchman makes up his mind, I have always observed you might as well think of turnin' Niagara as turnin' him. Well, the councillors sot there awaitin' for the governor to illuminate 'em on the subject of his idea, and drank and smoked till they drank and smoked all that was placed afore them, when the council always broke up. And when they rose to go, the governor shook his head and said agin — 'You shall see vaite you shall see.* Well, next day I was woke up by a most riprorious noise in the street, folks beatin' diuins and blowin' horns, and rattlin' arms and all sorts of things a'most; so I jumps out of bed in an all-fired hurry, and ups with the winder and outs with my head. ' Hullo !' says I, • what in natur" is all this to do about ? who is dead, and what 's to pay now V — ' Oh !' says they, ' there is some- thin' wus than galls in the bushes. The governor comes out to the head of his army to fight Tousand Teyvils;* and they was very full of courage, was the Dutch, for they was more nor half shaved then. Says I to myself, ' There will be sport to-day, see if there ain't, and you had better go and see the fun. So,' thinks I, ' I don't much care if I do ;' and I dresses myself as soon as I could and runs down and joins them. " It was a most mortal hot day, and people actilly sweated to that degree, it laid the dust : indeed, where I was, in the rear, it began to be muddy a considerable some. I actilly thought I should a-died with the heat, it was so brilein', and was beginnin' to repent com in', when orders came to THE WOODEN HORSE. 121 lialt; juid glad enough I was to bear 'eui, you nuiy de- pend. " We cainpt near a most a-beautiful meddow at the foot of a mountain, with good shade and lots of nice cool water, jiud we turned to to wash and make comfortable. Pres- ently the horns blew a long, lively blast, and in a few minutes they was answered by another from the mountain. Then ten mulet' was brought out, and lo\ded with money and goods and what not ; and a captain and his guard pro- ceeded with them to the mountains, along with one of the councillors, and in two hours' time they returned, and then a gineral salute was fired by the whole line, for they had bought a peace with the native chief. Every one was de- lighted ; they not only nodded to each other, but actilly spoke. Some said, ' Goot,' others said, • Fary goot,' and sonic hot-heated young fellers said, * Tam coot.' Then a report came * Tousand Tey vils' was to dine with the gov- ernor; and an invitation came to me, as representin' our great nation, to be present at the feed too. Well, we all formed into line to see the chief that people was so afeerd on ; for no one knew whether he was man or devil, no one havin' ever dared to show anything but a back to him ; but he kept us waitin' for ever so long, for great men, I have obsarved, always arrive late at dinner; it *s only common people that jist come to the time, or may be a few minutes before, to make sure. Well, while we was waitin', the governor goes into the dinner-tent to see all was right ; and arter walkin' all round it ever so slow, he turns to the head- waiter and gives a grunt, 'Eu-gh,' says he, which is tho Dutch for ' It will do very well, I am satisfied with your airangements.' It is a beautiful lauguage for a hot climate aaBBBBESSSB r, 1' ii !; 1^ 5 ; ' I 122 SAM SLICK'S 8AYINGS AND DOINGS. like Java, is the Dutch, so little of it goes so far. It is like cayenne, the least spoonful in t!ie world does the bis- ness. Then the governor says, ' Casper,' says he (that was the feller's Christian name, and it 's very odd I never seed a Dutch sarvant that warn't named Casper) — says he, ' veu I takes out my noshe-viper to blow my noshe after mil dog- guesser' (which is low Dutch for dinner, 'cause it sets the dogs guessing and barking like mad), 'that is a shine to you to do varte I told you for to do. Now, if you neglects, my coot Casper, then' — and he drew his finger across Cas- per's throat — which is the Dutch for sayiu' * I will have your head cut off.' " Poor Casper lifted up his hand to put it on his heart; but he was so tarnatioi; frightened, he didr't get it no higher than his breeches ; and thrustin' it into his pocket, which was big enough to hold a quart bottle, he bent over it and bowed down to the ground, which is the Dutch way of say in', ' I onderstaud you, old boy, and will take devil- ish good care to mind my eye and save my head.' Jist then the guns fired a salute, which was a sign ' Tousand Teyvils' was a-comin' ; and, sure enough, there he was, a regular snorter by buth and edication, a tall, strappin*, devilish handsome feller, with a cap and plumes stuck sidewise like on his head. Well, as he marched along in the double line, folks seemed as amazed as if they was jist born, and hung back like as if it was Old Scratch himself agoin' to give *em a taste of his breed, and they looked as skeered as if they had seed a rifle lookin' at 'em eend ways ; and 'Tousand Teyvils' curled up his upper lip, jist as you have seed a pugdog do his tail, with a slight twitch of his nose, too, as much as to say, ' Ain't you a pretty set of II' THE WOODEN HORSE. 123 mcnn-spirited rnpscallions to come and buy your peace like cowards, instead of figlitin' it out to the bat's eend like brave men ? Cuss you ! you han't an idea above your nasty, muddy, stinkin' canals and flag-ponds ; and all you care lor is your tarnal schnaps and tobacco. Phew, you paltroons, how you stink of sour crout !' " He had a most audacious eye, I tell you ; it looked ex- actly as it was forged out of lightnin' ; it warn't easy to look into it, that's a fact. It seemed to say, ' I am a pickaxe, and will dig you out of your hole like a badger; I hope I may be gouged, if I don't.' Well, the governor advances two steps to meet him, which is a great way for a govern- or to go, especially a Dutch one, and takin' him by the hand, and bowin', says he, 'Mine goot frient — my prave frient,' and then he suddenly began to stop, and his eyes swelled, and the whole expression of his countenance al- tered, and the water came to his lips, and he began to lick his chops, as if he was a boa-constrictor, and was a-goin* to slaver him for swallerin' whole. " I never see such a treacherous face afore. * Tousand Tevvils' did n't seerh to like it nother, for he cut this mum- mery short by say in', ' How am you was' (for he did n't speak good Dutch at all) — 'how is you been, my old bul- lock V and he squeezed his cornstealers till the old gineral began to dance like a bear on red hot iron. " When he got clear of him, he blowed his fingers as if they was scalded, and howled and moaned like a wounded dog. It was pitiable to see him, for he was a caution to behold. If all the crooked Dutch oaths he muttered that time was straightened out, they 'd reach across the Hudson, I do believe. 'Oh, mine Cot!' says he, to Casper, who nt: 124 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. If I ill' I i: i j'it! > ', ih iil ': !i|8 :i 1; came in for orders (and it railly did seem to hurt him beau- tiful), ' how shall 1 use my noshe-viper 1 I can't blow my noshe no more as a child, my nails have growd one whole inch longer. Varte shall I do ? Est iut sharder' (I am sorry). " Well, arter a while they all sot down, and they eat and drank, and drank and eat, till all was blue agin ; they fair- ly pulled off their coats to it, as if they were in rael wide- awake airnest ; and arter the cloth was removed, says the old governor: 'Mine hears' (which means my dummies, or fellers that hear but don't speak), mine hears, fill your glasses.' Well, they all filled their glasses, and rose up. 'I have von toast,' said he, • ahem !' and he took out his noshe-viper (which is the Dutch for a pocket-handkerchief) and tried to blow his nose, but he could n't, for his fingers were all lame, they was crushed so ; and then he took his left hand that warn't squeezed, and you may depend that are wind-instrument, his nose, let go in great style, it sounded like a conch-shell. That was the signal : in rushed Casper and the guard, and come down on poor * Tousand Teyvils' like follin' stars, and tied him hand and foot, and carried him in old Vandam's carriage down to town, and rowed him off to a fortified rock at some distance from the land, where they imprisoned him like Lonaparte, and where he is livin' to this day chained like a dog. Fact, I assure you. ' Coot, farry coot, tarn coot trick,' the com- pany all said agin ; and then they turned to smokin' and drinkin' till all was blue agin. They did n't get drunk, tho' they had a considerable of a muddy time of it, too, be- cause nothin' will make a Dutchman drunk ; but they sucked in the gin till they could n't move hand or foot, or '!',(■ I THE WOODEN HORSE. 125 hear, or see, or spenk, but sot bolt upright, starin' and gaj)in' like a house with the windurs and doors knocked out. Now, instead of bein' ashamed of such a nasty, dirty, unperlite, sneakin' trick, as that they played poor ' Tou- snnd Teyvils,' they boasted of it ; for nothin' ever I seed made a Dutchman ashamed, except forgettin' to carry his bag of tobacco. •"Tarn dat old tief! dat " Tousand Teyvils,'" said the old governor (and he blarted like a calf jist weaned, as if somethin' was tiie matter of him ; but what can you expect of a Dutchman ?). ' Ich rharter,' which is the Dutch for I guess : • Ich rharter, when he next has de high favor to shake hands mid a governor, he don't squeeze his hand like von lemon :' and they all said, ' Ach yaw !' which is the Dutch shorthand way for sayin', ' That is a capital joke of his highness the governor.' Well, there was great re- joicin' to Java over this bloodless victory, and the governor ordered a pint of gin, a pound of tobacco, and two pipes, to be sarved out to each soldier in camp for his bravery ; and, two days arterward, there was a grand review of the Dutch army. Pretty lookin' soldiers they were, too, squFre, it would have made you died a-larfin' to have seed them. Either they had fell away greatly in that hot climate, or had n't fatted up as they intended to do afore they died, for their trousers hung so loose on 'em they could have stowed away their knapsacks, 'coutrements and all, in 'em, instead of cavryin' them on their backs, Howsumdever, they was satisfied ; and, if they was, seein' that they had to carry thorn, and not me, I did n't see as I had any riglit to find fault, do you? for my rule is to let every man skin his own foxes. Well, they marched, and counter-marched. m ii ;,: ' lit 1;- iili! i! It t 126 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOH.'OS. and fired, and nil tliat are Bort of work, jist as if they was in airnest ; and tlie boys shoutod, and tlio women smiled, and tlie blackH grinned, and all went on swimmingly, like a lionse a-fire. Presently, a great heavy piece of ordnance was fired off, and a booth was thrown open, and out came a'moHt an almighty big wooden boss, a London brewer's shafter would n't make the smallest part of a circumstance to him. lie had a splendiferous saddlecloth, that nearly covered his body, all trimmed with gold, and a bridle all of polished worked steel, reins and all ; and lie was led by ten s(ddiers, live on one side and five on the other, and mounted by a native rider superbly clad. His very jacket must have cost enough to set up a common man like me in the world. The boss looked so big and so fierce you'd think these ten men couldn't hold him ; but as he was on wheels, I guess they pulled him instead of holden of him. Well, every now and then, the boss, that had machinery in it, would up head and snort and neigh, just like natur', and out came gingerbrend, and tarts, and sagar-candy, and fruit, and all sorts of good things. Such a scramble you never did see; fellows tumblin' bead over heels, and fighting and qu'ir 'ing for a share of the goodies. Well, then, he'd prog. j;jP a little a-further, and then go thro' the same menouvres, and move his head as exact like a live boss as ever you did see in all your life, and then came the pure gin. Oh, dear, it was as good as a play to see them hold- in' their bands, cocoa-nut shells, and hats, to catch the liquor as it came from the boss. " Rojoicin', like everything else in the world, must have an eend at last (and Dutch rejoicin' don't last long at any time, as far as ever I seed, especially when there ain't no II,. nil i;'^' ' ill iiii. THE WOODEN HOBSB. 127 smokin' in it), and so clid their review. The people ah wont liome pleased. The wooden hoss was a grand idea. It was worked out by General Vandam himsalf, that time he shot himself up in his castle for two whole days and two whole nights, a-studyin' over this matter of • Tousand Tey- vils ;' and kIjows plain enough, to my mind, that a Dutch- man can think, arter all, if you only give him time enough. " The day arter the review I walked out over the exer- cisin' ground, and there lay the poor old hoss, with iiis ribs broke in, his body ripped up, and his tail pulled out. "While I was mubin' over the fate of the hoss, who should I see but a little nigger boy; So, says I, ' Come here, you little imp of darkness, you spawn of the old one, you, and tell nie how this is? Is "Tousand Teyvils" loose again? Who killed the governor's hoss?' — 'Why,' says he, ' iriassa' (for he spoke very good English, as he lived as help to a gentleman that kept a bumboat), ' him Dutch- man corned here last night in crowds with carts and hogs- heads and kegs, and they got old hoss and patted him, and *' soff-sawdered" him' (you know dat word, massa, him Yan- kee word, all same as blarney). * Yes,' says I, * I have heerd tell of him afore.* — ' Well, they coaxed him : Come, good hoss ; beautiful hoss ; a little drop more &l(idam ; dat is good hossy ; a little more sweatmeat, dat's a pretty hoss I Well, dey holdy up his head, and lift up him tail ; but no, dat no go — hossy no gib any. At last him Dutchmen get angry. "Dunder and blitzen !" he say, "if you no gib liiin by fair means you gib him by foul;" and wid dat dey fall to and rip him up, to see what is in him. Well, massa, you see dem old iron chains, and rusty wheels, and dem ugly pipes. Well, dat is all dey found dere. Den dey It w K i'lil •I'i m m I iif lis:. 1 • '. ! if. 128 SAM SLICK'S SAYIN(;S AND DOINGS. turn to and n\n\ie old gobernor like sin. " Tam old gin- cral," doy say; "he one old big coward, one ' Erbarm- liek !' " (dat's Dutch, massa, for awful bad) "one Erbarm- liolc rlicat ! * Tousand Teyvils' worth a hundred such old fools and knaves ! Ho no sold a, that." Oh, massa, noting a'most was too bad for him tongue to say of old gobernor.' — 'Well,' says I, 'here's sixpence for you, you young suckin' Satan, you; now make yourself scarce;' and he scamju'red off as snwirt as a two-year old. "Ko'.v, squiic," said the clockmaker, "it's a considerable of a long story that, and 1 most afeerd I have tired you; but Jo/in Bull and his Colony Patriots remind me of them Dutchmen and their Avooden horse. As long as he will neigh and whinner and hold up his head, and give *em cakes and candy and sweetmeats to eat, and skidam to drink, thoy are full and runnin' over with praises and pro- fessions of loyalty ; but as soon as he stops, then those same patriots, those Mackenzies and Papineaus, and devils, have knifes ready to rip him up. John Bull don't know Olid don't valt/ his rnt'l friends enough. All are well dis- posed to him, except them noisy critturs that run about, as old Jeremiah says, cryin', * fire, fire !' but, cuss him, he is so near-sighted he never sees a whip till he feels it. The ro'?lly loyal people, like raelly religious people, don't talk of it for everlnstinly. They seldof?i make professions, unless rolled for, and a nit found, rehellin'' like patriots, even when provoked. Their loyalty han't a condition to it like a mort- gage. It ain't cupboard love, like that of the Dutchman to the Woodrn Iforse." I'll!'..' THE BAD SHILLINCi. 129 CHAPTER XI. THK BAD SHILLING. It was late at night -when we arrived at one of the fron- tier towns of the state of Maine, which, to avoid local offence, I shall designate as Quimbagog. There was so much noisy disputation relative to politics and religion in the coffee-room of the inn, that I retired early to bed, with a oad headache, and not without some misgiving, that by visiting Maine first I had entered the states, to use an ex- pression of the clockmaker's, by the wrong door. In order that the rketch which I am now about to give may be fully understood, it may be necessary to request the reader to recollect that Mr. Slick is a Yankee, a designation the origin of which is now not v-ry obvious, but it has been assumed by, and conceded by common consent to, the inhabitants of New England. It is a name, though sometimes satiri- cally used, of which they have great reason to be proud, as it is descriptive of a most cultivated, intelligent, enter- prising, frugal, and industrious population, who may well challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of any other country in the world ; but it has only a local application. The United States cover an immense extent of territory, and the inhabitants of different pjirts of the Union differ as widely in chavacter, feelings,- and even in appearance, as th3 people of different countries usually do. These sections differ also in di.'ilet't and in luunor ns uuich as in other things. ■'s'l I m 130 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. m ,"l f'iiii \W III ' and to as great, if not a greater extent, tliar. ihe natives of different parts of Great Britain vary from each otlier. It IB customary in Europe to call all Americans, Yankees ; but it is as much a misnomer as it would be to call all Euro- peans, Frenchmen. Throughout these works it will be ob- served, that Mr. Slick's pronunciation is that of the Yan- kee, or an inhabitant of the rural districts of New England. His conversation is generally purely so ; but in some in- stances he uses, as his countrymen frequently do from choice, phrases which, though Americanisms, are not of eastern origin. Wholly to exclude these would be to vio- late the usages of American life ; to introduce them oftener would be to confound two dissimilar dialects, and to make an equal departure from the truth. Every section has its own characteristic dialect, a very small portion of which it has imparted to its neighbors. The dry, quaint humor of New England is occasionally found in the West, and the rich gasconade and exaggerative language of the West mi- grates not unfrequently to the east. This idiomatic ex- change is perceptibly on the increase. It arises from the travelling propensities of the Americans, and the constant intercourse mutually maintained by the inhabitants of the different states. A droll or an original expression is thus imported and adopted, and, thougli indigenous, soon be- comes engrafted on the general stock of the language of the country. In using the term " language of the coun- try," I mean that of the classes in humble life, of which Mr. Slick is a member, as I hope I have never been so mis- understood as to render it necessary for me to say, that 1 have no intention of imputing these idioms to any other. This explanation, while it accounts for rn erratic man, like I THE BAD yiIiLLlN(i. 1:J1 Mr. Slick, occasionally using some few phrases which are not native Yankeeisms, will enable the reader the better to understand the diflFerence between the plebeian of the West and the East, as exhibited in the following sketch : — During the stroll after breakfast on the following morn- ing, Mr. Slick said, " Did you never mind, squire, how hard it is to get rid of * a bad shillin',' how everlastin'ly it keeps a-comin' back to you ?" I said, " I had never experienced any diflSculty of that kind, never having endear ored to pass one that I knew was spurious." — " No, I suppose not," said he, •' because you are a careless kind of a man that way, and let your shillin's desart oftener than they had ought to. But what would I have been, had I been so stravagant? and as to passin' bad money, I see no harm in it, if you have given valy for it, and received it above boord hansum, in the regular way of swap, trade, or sale. Cheatin' is givin' a thing of no vab' for somethin* that is. Now, a bad shillin' that has cost you as much as a good one, can't be said, no how you can fix it, to be a thing of nc valy. Spose any gentleman that keeps a pike was to give you a bad shillin' in change, you would have a right to pass it then, cause it had cost you a shillin'. The odds make the difference — do you take? I'd like,' he continued, 'to go into committee with you on that matter (as we used to say to the house of Rip's), but there ain't time for it jist now, as the pirate said to the hangman when he was a-tyin' of the knot. Howsumdever it is so. I fell in with a bad shillin' last night, arter you went to bed, that 1 thought I had parted with to New Orleans five years ago, for ever. I had been sittin' down talkin' over roads and travellin*, and the clearin's, and what not to Nova Scotia, last night, mm Hi . " T . ■*■; .■ • 132 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINdS. M Hi' Ifi' ili'lilM i ii i ii! i Ii ! ;■ iiih :1l with a gentleman that owns a free-trader to Quimbagnp, tlie Honorable Lncifer Wolfe. I misremembered him at first, and I don't think I filled his eye chock full nother, for he fi!\Ytain-h/ did n't know me when we first began our pnlarver. He was a tall innn, over six foot high, all bono and muscle, not an ounce of supeiy?Mous flesh on him. I seed at once he warn't a un/ire of Maine, but a ringtnil roarer from the West. He was all made of fox-traps and bears-claws, and as springy as a saplin' ash. Havin' been a considerable some in the African trade, a dealin' in nig- gers, he was very swarthy like, wore a most ungodly pair of whiskers, and had more hair than head, tho' that was none of the smallest nother. His eyes was full and hawk- like, and close together, but they squinted awful ; one on 'em mounted guard on his tumbler and t'other on you, as if his fightin' and drinkin' liked keepin' company. His nose was hooked and thin, like the back of a jacknife ; and a scar across one side of his face from the cut of a sword or a boardin'-pike, made the plumb part of his cheek to scuttle down to the level of his jaw, and gave liim a very savage kilniferous kind of look. He wore his neckcloth loose like a sailpr's, which showed a rael bull-dog neck; and, as he turned his head on its hinges, you could see the silver hilt of a bowie-knife that laid hid onder the cape of his coat, ready for use, I could n't help a-thinkin' of Sistor Sail when I seed it, for she used to say she liked things that appealed to the heart. T wonder whether she'd call a bowie-knife pathetic or not, for few things sink as deep as they do. Then the two large padded flaps like watch- pockets to his frock-coat, showed pistols was concealed there. His shirt had two or throe large gold brooches in THK BAD SHILLING. 133 it. .'iiul a chain of the same genuine material, as tliick as a gall's finger, was suspended round his neck as a watch- guard, and his waistcoat was made of spotted calf's skin, t.uniod with the hair on, and the shaggy side showin' out. lie looked half-landsman half-seaman, with a strong dash of the tire-eater. Altogether he was a caution to look at, lli.'it's a fact. All at once he recollected my phiz, «>nf' junipin' up and catchin' hold of my hand, which ne squeezed as if it was in a vice, he roared out — 'Why it ain't possihle!' said he. 'Lawful heart alive, if that airn't you ! Where on airth did you spring from, since you gin* over livin' whar you used to did ? Whar do you lead your lite now? Why, you have become quite a big bug lately by youi writin's : penmanship, I take it, is a better bisness than clockniakin' ; but come, let's liquor; I want to wet up ; the sight of an old friend warms my heart so, it makes my lips dry. What will you have ? cocktail, sling, julip, sherry cobbler, purl talabogus, clear sheer, or switchell ? name your drink, my man, and let's have a gum-tickler, for old acquaintance, somethin' that will go down the throat like a greased patch down a smooth rifle.' — 'Well,' says I, ' I am no ways pitikilar ; suppose we have brandy cocktail, it's as 'boLt as good a nightcap as I know on.' — 'Done,* said he, with a friendly tap on the shoulder that nearly dislocated my neck ; ' I like a man that knows his own mind. Most of our folks make as much fuss about choosing, as if their throats had any taste in them, and they actilly know the difference ; but they don't, that 's a fact. New England rum takes the skin clean off, and they can't taste nothin' that's weaker. I '11 go and speak for it to one of the gentlemen to the bar.' With that he swiggled his way 134 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. fei :': tliro' the crowd to the counter, and says he, ' Major,' says he, ' I guess you may let one of your aidy-conks bring us a pint of cocktail, but let it be letter A, No. 1, and strong enough to loosen the hinges of a feller's tongue.' Well, we sot down and chatted away till we finished our liquor, and now, says he, ' Slick, answer me a few questions, that's a good feller, for I am a free-trader now. I have ^ot a'most an angeliferous craft, a rael screemer, and I 'm the man that sez it. The way she walks her chalks ain't no matter. She is a rigilar fore-and-after. When I hoist the foresail she is mad, and when I run up the mainsail she goes ravin' distracted I can beat her up the harbor, when there is rips, raps, and rainbows, under her bow ; ay, walk her like a lady right into the wind's eye. Chips ! chips ! and they know it a-bed. Heavens and airth ! jist lookin' at her will take away the breath from them white-livered, catfish- mouthed, dipt-candle lookin' scoundrels, the Brunswickers. She goes right on eend like a rampin' alligator. She '11 go so quick she 'II draw their wind out : go ahead ! cock-a- doodle-doo !' And he crowed like a rael live rooster. * Go ahead, steamboat — cock-a-doodle-doo!' and he smashed my hat in, most ridikilous, over my eyes, a-flappin' so with his hands, like wings. It was a caution to see, that's a fact. * Now,' said he, * Slick, my bully, I think I see a smart chance of doin' a considerable stroke of business to Nova Scotia, in the smugglin' line. " * Is it true the British have made Hudson, in Nova Scotia, a free port?' — * It is.' " ' Is it true, that from Parsboro', at he head of the basin of Minas, up to Windsor, it is thirty-five miles?' — ' It is.' J '!l^ ^mmm^ iif THE BAD SHILLING. 135 " * Is it true the tide runs out so, you can lay aground anywhar you darn please, on the mud-flats, witlr safety V — ' It is.' " ' Is it true you ain't bound to call at no customhouse till you get up to Windsor V — 'It is.' " ' Is it true they can't see you to Windsor till you come within two miles of it ?' — • It is.' " ' Is n't Windsor almost clear across the province, no more than thirty-five miles from Halifax basin?' — 'It is.* " ' Then,' says he, a-givin' me a most powerful slap on the thigh with his open hand, enough to make a beefsteak tender — 'then,' said he, and he grinned like a red-hot gridiron, the crittur was so pleased, ' I defy all the Blue- noses, John Bulls, Brunswickers, and devils that ever was, to prevent smugglin'. Old Nick is in the die if, in thirty- five miles of river and basin, you can't find an honest feller on one side or another of it, near whom you can lay aground by accident and run your goods. I am intarmined to fill that are country, called Nover Scotiar, with smuggled goods, as full as a dog is full of fleas, ay, and as hard to be cotched, too, as them nimble-footed little gentlemen be. Ain't the British awful fools, too ?' said he ; * they do beat all ; I actilly believe they are the biggest fools livin' this day, on the blessed airth.' — 'Well,' says I, 'I won't say they are jist the biggest fools nother, for them are colony cliaps are pretty much of a muchness with them, six of one and half a dozen of t'other, and no great to choose nary way. But the next time, Friend Wolfe, clinch the argu- ment on your own thigh, that's a good soul, and not on niine, for I feel it tingle clean away down to the tip eends of my toes ; and now I '11 tell you somethin' you ain't axed 7'.; 1 j' 130 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ff P'" ;::'!■ i i k : I «:i;ii' 1.1:11; . ' ■ ll i ill' ':" I'ailii yet, for you don't know all things, cute as you bo. Tliey used to have to the east, when I fust knowd it, an excise oflScer and a customhouse officer to each port ; now, I hear it is talked of to have one man to do the work of both ('cause savin' is popular), and he will be kept so busy he won't have time to leave his home one etarnal minit, so there won't now be no customhouse at all in a manner, and that only for form's sake^ It's a free trade now, a'most, and we are a-goin' to have the whole supply afore long, see if we ain't ; and one thing I have often remarked, Yankee trade brings Yankee notions. All we got to do is to be quiet. They call all change reform, them fellers; it's a sort o' party catchword they I'arnt from the English, and all changes they make will help us and hurt them.' — ' The devil a hair I care,' says Lucifer, ' what they do. 1 am no politician, and I hate politics. I am no great hand at ma- kin' laws ; but one thing I do pride myself on : I never seed the law yet that could tie my hands, for I am a regu- lar scroudger : I can slip them thro' any clauses you please. Build up four square walls of laws round me, and I '11 whip thro' the keyhole. The way I '11 run goods into that are country is a caution to steamboats and railroads, and them plaister-diggin*, shingle-weavin', clam-feedin' Blue-noses, may do their prettiest, cuss 'em. I'm for free-trade, and them that wants a fleece for revenue must first catch the sheep, that's my maxim; and if he is cotched, why, then he must jist submit to be sheared, that's all, for bein' such a born fool. But no one hadn't better go foolin' with me, for I've got a loadin'-iron, " speechifier" by name, that never missed her man since Lucifer Wolfe owned her. She'll let daylight shine thro' some o' them Bluc-noses, I THE BAD SHILLING. 137 know, so they can't tell a sneeze from a blow'd-up boat, she's so quick on the trigger. I'm a good-natured man, but it don't do to rise me, I tell you, for it's apt to make me sour in hot weather. '"But come,' said he, 'that cocktail and your news is considerable excitin', and has whetted my appetite proper- ly ; I guess I '11 order supper. What shall it be, corn- bread and common doin's, or wheat-bread and chicken- fixin's 1 But we must fust play for it. What do you say to a game at all-faurs, blind-hookey, odd and even, wildcat and 'coon, or somethin' or another, jist to pass time ? Come, I'll size your pile.' — ' Size my pile!' says I, 'why, what the plague is that? I never heerd tell of that sayin' afore.* — ' Why,' says he, ' shell out, and plank down a pile of dol- lars or doubloons, of any size you like, and I'll put down another of the same size. Come, what do you say?' — 'No, I thank you,' says I, 'I never play.' — 'Will you wrestle, then V said he ; * and whosever throwd pays the shot for supper.' — 'No,' says I, 'since I broke my leg a-ridin' a cussed Blue-noss boss, I han't strength enough for that.' — ' Well, then, we are near about a height,' says he, 'I estimate, let's chalk on the wall, and whoever chalks lowest liquidates the bill.' — 'If it warn't for the plaguy rheumatiz I caught once to Nova Scotia,' says I, * a-sleepin* in a bed the night arter a damp gall lodged there, I think I would give you a trial,' says I; 'but the very thoughts of that fog'iiy lieifer gives me the cramp.' " I jist said that to make him larf, for I seed he was a-gettin' his steam up rather faster than was safe, and that he could jist double me up like a spare shirt if he liked, foi' nothin' will take the wiry edge of a man's temper off like 6* 138 BAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. J' If'"' ill*' i I ; li lit' ■!';; ! ll I ■■','■!!' mi 'iV'! li-: a joke : he fairly roared out, it tickled him so. • Well,' says he, *I like that idea of the damp gall; it's capital that: it's a Jerusalem bright thought. I'll air my wife, Miss Wolfe, before the fire to-night ; I hope I may bo kicked to death by grasshoppers, if I don't. I'll heat her red-hot, till she scorches the sheets. Lord! how she'll kick and squeel when I spread her out on the close-horse. How it will make her squinch her face, won't it ? She never hollers unless she's hurt, does Miss Wolfe, for she is a lady every inch of her, and a credit to her broughter-up. A damp gall ! Come, that's good ! it accounts for some of 'em bein' so wretched cold. But, stop,' said he, ' it 's no use a-sittin' here as still as two rotten stumps in a fog. I'll tell you what we'll do; here's two oranges: do you take one, and I '11 take the other, and let us take a shy among them glasses to the bar there, and knock some o* them to darned shivers, and whoever breaks the fewest shall pay for the smash and the supper, too. Come, are you ready, my old coon ? let 's drive blue blazes thro' em.' — 'No,' says I, ' I 'd be sure to lose, for I am the poorest shot !n the world.' — 'Poorest shote,' said he, 'you mean, for you have no soul in you. I believe you have fed on pumkins so long in Conne'ticut, you are jist about as soft, and as holler, and good for nothin', as they be — what ails you? You han't got no soul in you, man, at all. This won't do — we must have a throw for it. I don't valy the money a cent ; it ain't that, but I like to spikilate in all things. I'll tell you what we'll do: let's spit for it;' and he drew his chair up ever, witu mine. 'Now,* says he, * bring your head back in a line ivith the top-rail, and let go ; and whoever spits farthest without spatterin' wins.' — '■.f TIIK BAD SHILLING. 139 * Well,' says I, 'you'll laugh when I tell you, I dare say, but I've gin up spittin' since I went down to Nova Scotia; I have, upon my soul ! for nothin' riles them Blue-noses more. Spittin' would spile a trade there as quick as thuu- der does milk. I'm out of praci our return from Ches- ter in Nova Scotia to Windsor, we stopped at a small house on the roadside, near a sawmill, for the purpose of feeding our horse, and in the course of a conversation whic'' it appeared to me was designedly introduced, relative to the stream and the adjoining timber-land, Mr. Slick extolled the " water power," " mill-privilege," betten^ients, and con- venience and value of the place, in terms of such extrava rip mm |: IB :^ ''s I ii' ii ^ '•ir'i I: i 144 BAM CLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. gant praise, tliat the owner proposed to sell it to him, an offer which Avas immediately accepted. "You sec," said Mr. Slick to him, "I ain't jist prepared to pay you right down on the nail in hard pewter, not expectin' any such trade, but ' /'// bond it;' that is, do you bind yourself in a bond to give a title, upon my payin' you five hundred pounds within two years. If I pay it, why then the land is mine ; and if I don't do so, why there is no harm done : you take, don't you ?" — "Well, I don't know as I do," said Blue-nose (who appeared puzzled at this novel mode of selling property, in which the bond was to be given to the Avrong man). " Why don't you give me a bond," said he, " for the purchase-money, and I'll give you a deed? I'll trust yoi/, for you are good for more nor that." — " Why, I'll tell you," said the clockmaker. " It's altogether for your advantage, and saves trouble anjd ex- pense, you see. Accordin' to your plan, if I didn't pay my bond when it's due, why you'd lose the land : now this way, you don't part with the land till you get the money ; for you hold on till you are paid and finger the cash. It's safer and better for yo?i, and I must say I do like a fair deal. So now, do you take the pen and write the bond yourself to prevent mistakes, and I will tell what to put into it," The bond was accordingly written, duly executed, and delivered, and we proceeded on our journey. As this transaction had taken place some time ago, and never again been referred to by Mr. Slick, it had nearly escaped my memory; but the opportunity having now occurred of making an advantageous use of it, he unfolded his object without reserve. "We are now, squire," said he, "in the state of Maine, II t: TRADING IN BED. 145 tlie headquarters of land spekilators, and I '11 put off my Chea- ter friend's bond to an advance. I never had no notion of buy in' that are feller's land. I don 't want it no more nor my old wagon' does a fifth wheel. I've been spekilatin' on his capital. If I don't sell the bond, I lose not' in', for I have j)aid nothin' ; if I sell it, I gain all I can get for it. It is one of tlie best and prettiest mo'des of trading I know on ; but the ditlieultest part ib all to do yet, and that is so sell it. Any- body can put the leak into a Blue-nose, or a John Bull, for tluy ai -irimi^itTjUnsuspectin' sort of folks, not jist exactly up to snuff; but to walk into a downeast land-jobber re- quires great skill, I tell you, and a very considerable knowl- edge of human natur', and of business. If your hook aiu't well covered, and the bait well chose and suited to the season, they won'* so much as look at it. If you pull at a nibble, you never get another one, for there is nothin' so bad as eagerness. A quick eye, a steady hand, and cool temper, is not do-withoutable. Tantalize 'em, play 'em on and off, laise it a little out of sight till they t and smell it, then jist to look for it, and then let it float down strean.' for thei : loller, and when they get to it, snub it short till they pa^. , and have to turn back and make up agin' stream. They don't see so clear then for the drift stuff, air-bubbles, and what not ; and when you find them makin' right at it full split with their mouths open, slacken up a little, and jist as they snap at it, draw it forward an inch or so, and then rest a bit. The next grab they make they will tjike in the bait, hook, sinker, and all, and maybe a part of the line, then give it a back pull (not forrard, for that is blundersome, and may pull it out agin p'raps, but back) with a short turn of the wrist, and it whips the hook m 146 SAM slick's sayings AND DOINGS. til! i '.5. '\k . ill ; •li t" f : I'll right into the jaw. Oh, it's beautiful play, that ! it sharp- ens the wit, p'ints the eye-teeth, and raises a man in the scale of intelligence. I never see a human yet, unless he was one of our free and enlightened citizens, tiiat had the science — never, and I must say my hand is 'most out. I want practice ; for in them British provinces the folks are as simple as the partridges be, and they are so tame and so stupid, it's no fun a-goin' out a-gunnin' arter them, for you can shoot 'em like hens at a roost. Floorin' one of them afore the eyes of the others never starts the flock, it only 'mazes them. But stop," said he, " tapping me on the shoulder, stop, squire, and look out o' that are winder. Do you see that are tall, limber-timbered, slinky-lookin' man with the blue cloak and t»vo long black cords a-hangin' from it with almighty big tassels a-danglin' to the eend of it like the lamp-rope there, a-carryin' part of the cloak folded on one arm like a Roman senator, and t' other arm a kimber, with his hat cockaded military like ? well, that is General Conrad Corncob. He is the greatest spekilator in these parts. He made a hundred thousand dollars in eastern lands last year, and ten thousand to New Brunswick this season. He thinks no small beer of himself, that man, and boasts that he never put his foot in it in his life. If I don't lighten him of two thousand dollars afore to-morrow mornin', say my name is not Sam Slick. 1 '11 walk right into him, tight as he is, I know. I'll bam him so he'll be a caution, 1 hope T may be shot if I won't. There is ziothin' like fishin' for the leadin' trouts of the hole — no, nothin'; there is some fun in that, somethin* worth holdin' out the landin'-net for — beautiful spots of gold on them fellers — lick, it makes my mouth water. It's excitin' — it's dread- TRADING IN BED. 147 fnl pretty ; it caps all, that's a fact. I sha' n't see you now agiii till moniin', squire, for it's considerable well on in the cvenin' now, when daylight's down, and I should n't wonder if I had * to trade in bed' afore I bring him to tarms, so good-night. I 'II play 'possum with you in the mornin', and be ready to start with you as early as you please." The following morning Mr. Slick put a small piece of paper in my hand, and said, with a smile of triumph on his face — " Read that, squire, if you please. ' To the cashier of the Bangor bank. Sir, please to pay to Samuel Slick, Esq., two thousand dollars and ninety cents, and charge the same to yours, &c. Conrad Corncob, Lt. Genl.' I did him," said he, exultingly, " I did him ; but it was no easy matter, I tell you. I had to play him up and down stream more nor once and shift the color of the fly till I tempted him ; but he is bagged for once, anyhow. It was a'most a-difficult piece of business ; and I must say, tho' I say it that shouldn't say it, that I don't think there is another man this blessed day in the states would have done it but myself, not one. But come, we must be a-movin' ; and as we drive on, I'll tell you how it was. " Arter I left you, I seed him in a line with the stable ; 60 I jist walks out and makes for the hoss-stalls, lookin' down in a hurry like, and seemin' chock full of bisness, and not letiin' on as if I knowd that he was there, for there is nothin' like a non-committal, and he calls out: ' Why, Slick, if that ain't you, as I am alive ! why, how do you do, eh ? who on airth would have expected to have seed you here.' So I looks up, 'mazed like, like a feller that's lost his road, and says I, 'Stranger, you have the advantage of me, I guess.' — ' Possible,' said he, ' not know U ' 148 SAM .SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. m m WW ''1 fe i% Mil' wm. me? oh, for ever!' — ' Wlr',' says I, ' I know your voice, and know your face, and ovf/ht to know yovn* name ; but — ' •Well, if you think you ought,' said lie, 'you shall. Don't you mind Gineral Conrad Corncob, him that was kyurnal last war on full pay V — ' Corncob V says I. 'Let me see,' said T. 'Corncob — Corncob!' and then I scratched my head like a dog in sarch of a flea — ' oh ! ay ! to be sure I do, and glad to see you, too.' — ' I thought,' said he, ' Slick, you was down to Nova Scotia, a-tradin' among them tatur- headed Blue-noses ; and, d — n them fellers, they talk rather warlike about the boundary line. I should n't wonder if they 'd like a war, the villains ; for they 'd find it a plaguy sight easier, I estimate, to come and grab our vessels than, build them for themselves. Halifax always goes ahead by a war. Have you done anything out of the clock-line down there lately ? Is there any room there for a spec' in the land way on a large scale V Well, I jist look'd up at him, and eyed him hard in the face, Avithout sayin' of a word for a space, dube some like, as if it was a dangerous thing to let one's tongue run too fast, and then said, a-holdin' of my head down, as if I had concluded to keep dark : ' Well, I must say,' said I, ' I haven't done bad in clocks, that's sar- tain.' — 'Fire and tow! have you done anything in the timber line V said he, ' for that is a rising property.' Well, I made as if I did n't hear him, so as to 'cite his curiosity, and says I, ' Gineral, that are boundary-line will cause trouble yet, I reckon. You Maine folks have been talkin' a leetle too fast lately — a leetle too much bush. You won't frighten Blue-nose so easy as you are a-thinkin' on, I tell you.' — ' Well,' says he, ' we 've talked and bragged so much lately about it, I *m tired and sick of the subject ; TRADING IN BED. 149 but I see you have made a hit, I know you have, you are HO inf'arnal costive. I've seed folks carry a heavy secret afore to-day. What is it?' — ' Governor Fairfield has been too rash, and talked too big,' says I. • We have suflFered in the eyes of foreigners.' — ' The devil take the eyes of for- eigners, and Governor Fairfield, and the boundary, too,* says he. ' Fire and tow ! your spec', what is it V And he opened his cloak and put his arm inside of mine and walked on. 'What's the tune,' said he; 'two or three hundred thousand dollars, eh?' — 'Well,' says I, 'gineral, there is no evadin' you, you are so everlastin* cute. I be- lieve you could see a hole in a millstone if it was no bigger than the p'int of a needle, providin' you picked it yourself. Who told you I had made a spec' ? tell me how it leaked out.' — 'Oh!' says he, 'I knew it from your manner; I hope I may be shot if I did n't. Fire and tow ! it tan't no easy matter to blind me.' — ' Well, then,' says I, 'I have made a spec', gineral, that's a fact, and such a spec', too, p ain't often made now-a-days nother. It's a top-iawyer oiie, I do assure you ; but I can 't avail it. I am afraid this Britisher that 's here will be the ruin of me yet ; for he has made me promise to make tracks with him this summer, and I am 'most afeerd I shall lose the chance of gettin' up a company by it, and it's a pity, too, for there ain't such a location atween the poles hardly. I got it for half nothin*, a mere song: it's grand, that's sartain. Now,' says I, 'if you would give me a little advice how to work it, I '11 give you some hints about property in Nova Scotia that will clear two hundred per cent. ; but it 's a long story, and walls have ears- so I - 111 turn in with you, if Miss Corn- cob, your wife, ain't here, and we '11 talk it over in bed. 'ill I fl !: il' :|: ill im, 'mm 11 ■f: llrf 150 RAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. If we can aj^ree, I will give yon an agency that will be worth while.' — ' Well,' says he, ' do, for there is nothin' like ' tradiii' a-hed^ and I will council you to the best of my abilities ; but is it refuge or superfine clear stuff, or only marchantable ?' — 'Oh !' says I, ' there is no mistake, it 's for myself, and not to put off agin ; it 's the rael solid thing, and not holler, or lackered, or plated, but jist ginu- wine. If it was a bam, there would be no need of advice, I reckon ; but it 's how to go the whole figur'.' "Well, arter walkin' about a trifle from the house, for a while, and talkin' about indifferent subjects, we took jist a dust of rael good niint-julip, and turned into bed. Says he, ' Slick, excuse me, but I must turn my back on you, for, as I chews a good deal, I 'd have to spit across you in the night, which ain't very genteel, so I can 't lay spoonbill fashion. Now for the spec'.' I seed his curosity was up, 80 not to appear in a hurry, I said : ' Gineral,' says I, * nothin' but bisness would ever make me sleep with a man. I got frightened out of a year's growth once, by goin' to bed with a Britisher. It was second or third stage out of Buffalo, Oanady way. When I arrived it was late to night, and I had to dig thro' the woods considerable sharp to get there at all. The house was full, and every bed had two in it, all 'xcep one, and that an Englishman bad, who cai*- ried on and swore so 'bout sleepin' two in a bed, that they gave hiin one all to himself, more to save the bother of bavin' a quarrel with him than out of any love for him ; for them English are tlit devil when travellin', they give so much trouble, and, do what you will, are never satisfied.' — 'Exactly,' said the gi.icral, 'most commonly their man- ners arc vude, overbeaiin', and tyrannical. They want TRADING IN BED. 161 their flints fixed for 'em, as we did last war; but, fire and tow ! let 's have your spec' afore we get a-noddin' ; I shall go for it soon, for I am considerable sleepy, I tell you.' — •Well,' says I, ' so they jist told me to take up with the Englishman, and I ondressed in two-twos, outs with the candle, and into bed in no time. The crittur was a-lyin' with his back to me, a-snoring like a bull, and more nor once I had a mind to wake him, so that we might have a fair start for it ; but then I thought it would o.ily eend in a fight, so I let him be. But jist as I was a-droppin' off to sleep, the crittur fell to and kicked like a jackass. Lord, I thought he would have kicked me out of bed, or broi.j my leg, he kicked so like all possessed. Thinks I to my- self, " What on airth shall I do ? shall I give him a slock- dolager onder the ear and wake him up, or shall I turn to and kick him in return agin." I did n't actilly know what to do; at last, I gets upon my knees, jist lays hold of him by the shoulders and turned him over, with his face to me, and his back to the outside of the bed. " Now," says I, "kick away till you are tired, will you, my hearty, and you won't hurt nothin' but the wall." Well, if he didn't snore and kick away in great style, it 'u a pity ; but as he didn't touch me no more, I dropped off asleep, and left him a-batterin' away at the wall with his heels like a pavior's rammer. In the mor.iiu' he was qi "at enough; but, oh, such an vjgly, ongainly-lookin' beast I never seed. He had his mouth wide open, a-showin' of his snags of teeth like a boss when he sneezes, and there was dry froth en his nose and lips from snortin' so. His eyes was open too (for some men sleep with their peepers open, like the Dutch overseer of the niggers, Avith the glass eye, in the sug;»r- 152 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. r I Si "\%. M m I. 1> 6 M 1" *f I ;^i i!!^ 11 !( }■ liouso), and tliey stared like the eyes of nn owl, and had jist slch a glassy, filmy, onmeanin' look. His hands, like most Britishers, was as white as chalk, but the nails was blue, and so was his lips. The nostrils were pinched in, and his nose looked pointed ; altogether, he was a perfect picun' of an ugly man. " Hullo, shipmate," says I, •' how's yovir liools this mornin' ? I guess you must have hurt 'em agin that are wall last night, for yoti kicked like all venge- ance ;' but he was as sound as a top. With that, I throwd down the clothes on mj/ side, and was a-gittin' out of bed, when one leg touched him, and his skin was so cold and so clammy, I turned round and took another survey of him, and then put my ear close to his mouth, and I hope I may be shot if he warn't as dead as a herring. He was, I swear ! It was an apperplexy fit he had, that made him kick so like mad. It made me quite sick; I didn't get that crittur's ugly mug out of my thoughts for one while, I know. It was horrid now, warn't it?' — 'Well, fire and tow! it was horrid, that's. a fact,' said the gin era! ; 'and if your bed fellers are apt to be so confounded onlucky, I must say I'm 'most afeerd to go to bed with you. I don't like to hear about them thii\igs at night; they kinder skeer a .vay sleep and set me a-dreamin' ; — let 's hear about your Nova Scotia estate : what is it like ?' — ' We had a crown- er's inquest on the body,' says ^, 'and the crowner, who was a bit of a wag, returned a vardict — "Died of fright, a-sleepin' along with a Yankee." He did, upon my soul! Fact, I assure you,' — ' Who the plague cares,' says Corn- cob, 'what the great, fat, porter-drinkin' hog died of! do, for gracious' sake, let him be. Did you say your land was in Nova Scotia or New Brunswick? Come, gin over fool- TUADINU IN liED. 153 in', that 's a good feller.' I seed he was very anxious to licar about the bond, so to tease him and pique him, says I, ' I had another curous adventure once with a man in bed.' — ' What a devil of a long-winded feller you be, Slick,' says he ; * why do n't you come to the p'int at once 1 if you want advice, ax it ; if not, let 's go to sleep, for your stories are dismal. Fire and tow ! I shall see that dead man in a nightmare yet.' — ' Well,' says I, ' this one will make you larf anyhow, for it took a different turn from t 'other one altogether. When I fust went out in the ?Jock line, up Huron way, I used to be subject to the cramp, violent fits of the cramp, and nothin' a'most gave me relief but holdin* up a roll of stick-brimstone in my hand, and I used to place it every night onder the pillar of my bed to have it handy. Well, one night (and most sincerely cold it was too) I was a-bed. along with Plato Frisk, a jumpin' quaker, a terrible cross-grained cantankersome crittur as ever I seed. He had a beard like a goat, it hung down to his waist a'most, and he had the power of raisin' it up with his chin, and whiskin' it as an ondocked crittur does its tail. A switch of it across your face was as bad as a blow from a bunch of stingin' nettles ; it made it smart agin, like all wrath. It was a caution to look at. His nose was long, thin, and rounded, like the shape of a reapin' hook, and his eyes as black and small as a weasel's; they looked like two burnt holes in a blanket, they was so deep. He actilly was an awful lookin' crittur, as shaggy as a two-year old, and jist about as ontamed too. Well, I woke up in the uiglit half-dead with the cramp, and screamin' like mad, iiiid 1 jist out fin and felt for the brimstone, and I no sooner bi'ized it than Fiisk he roared like a bull too, and folks 7 (t il k\ iT(M i' I ill ' P ■ )■' ii 164 BAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. came ninnin' and troopin' in from the other room, to peo what on airth all the hubbub was about; and I hope 1 may (lie this blessed :ninit if I had n't got him by the noso. in mistake for the brimstone (a'most an endless one it was too), and was a-squeezin' away and a-hangin' on to it like grim death to a dead nigger. It made me larf so, when the lights come in and I seed the ugly faces the goney made, that it cured the cramp, hang me if it did n't.' Well, the gineral he haw-hawed right out, like thunder. 'Why, Slick,' said he, 'what a droll feller you be! that was a mistake done a-purpose, I know it was, for you was always full of the devil when a boy ; but, for gracious' sa' ■ , let my nose alone, at any rate, for I han't much to spare, I tell you. Upon my word you ain't over safe to sleep with, are you ? But, fire and tow ! let's go to land, as the feller said when the boat upset, let's get to land. Let's have bisness first, and jokvS arterward.' — Well, there is reasiai even in roastin' an egg. I know'd I might push this too far, and that it was time to stop afore he smelt a rat. So I jist began at the beginnin', by tellin him the land warn"t for sale at no rate, but for a company, m shares, to be called ' Chester Lakes Mill Company,' and to be incorporated like other companies, so that they need n't pay their debts if they had n't a mind to. Then I laid out afore him how grand the water powers was, and what noble timber there was all around on the queen's land that was to be had for takin', and the great lakes for raftin' of it, and Windsor river for shippin' of it, and Malione bay on t' other side for expoitin' of it, and so on, and then oft'er'd him a bonus of four hundred dollars, and a commission of ten per cent. to sell shares. All the time I was a talkin' of this, I heerd TRADING IN BED. 155 old 'fire nnd tow' a-workin' ot the weed in great style, and when I got til is far, ho put out his hand and felt onder the pillar for his backy. I seed he was a-beginnin' to nibble at the bait, and that he was fairly on the scent, and I cal- culated I should have him afore long, if nothin' did n't skeer him. Says he, * Why not sell out and out, and have done with it? I think I could show you how to put it oft'.' — ' Sell it,' says I, • catch me a-sellin' of it ! why it 's onfit for sale.' — 'Onfit!' says he, 'how so? I thought you said it was perticular jam.' — 'So it is,* says I, 'and that's the reason it 's onfit ; it's the rael right down thing itself — ' ^'^ou know best,' says he, ' but if I was to presume to ofi'er opinion to a man o' your judgment, I should say sell. Companies is cumbrous, full of liabilities, and troublesome. Sales is short and snug, and they eend the bisness, so you can turn the money quick, and are ready for a fresh start.' — 'Exactly,' says I, 'when it's a bam sell by all means; but when it 's got a bottom, my rule is, to hold on.' Says he, 'Look here. Slick.' — 'What on airth is the use of lookin',' says I, * for it 's as dark as Egypt ; I can't see if I do look.' — ' Fire and tow !' said he, 'listen, if you can, for you are like a sheep's head, all jaw. I'll give you two thousand dollars at a word, for your bargain ; what do you say now, go or no go ? Say the word, bargain or no bar- gain !' — 'I'll give you an answer in the mornin', gineral,' says I. ' I don't want to part with it, and I must sleep upon it. The fact is, selling shares to a company would bring more nor twice that are sum. Let me cipher over it a little, for I have got hold of a real pitikilar smart chance, and the right eend of the rope too, and if I am too greedy to turn it at once, I know I shall repent it to my dying -. iHii ip 156 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ,■. 'ill day.' — • No,' said he, ' I like a man to be up to the notch, and stand to his lick-log; salt or no salt, say the word, or it's no offer.' — 'Dear, dear,' said I, ' you put the leake into every one, a'most, gineial ; other men beat the bush, but you catch the bird ; say ninety cents more, for I have made a vuw I wouldn't look at two thousand dollars, and it's yourn.' — 'Fire and tow! then, done,' said he, 'and now I '11 show you how I do business ;' and with that he jumps out of bed and lights a lucifer, and openin' of his desk, says he, ' Write you a short assignment of that bond, Slick, and I will write the check;' and in less than twenty minutes the bond was in his trunk, the check in my port- manter, and we was both in bed agin, back to back, as sociable as you please. * Well, gineral,' says I, • as you say business fust and jokes arterward, now I'll tell you another story of two fellers sleepin' in one bed, a'most as good as t' other one. " ' The house they was a-sleepin' in took fire, and they jumps up in an all-fired hurry, and stein' one pair of trow- sers atween them, half-asleep and half-awake as they was, each put a leg in it, and they rolled down stairs tied together, kickin' and squeelin' like two pigs, and were half-trod to death and a'most killed. I'll tell you how it was.' — 'Do be quiet,' says he; 'I beHeve in my soul you'd talk all night; and when I larf so much, I can't go to sleep arter- ward, it sets me a coughin' so. Good-night,' and he was off in a hand-gallop of a si\ore in a little less than half no time. Thinks I to myself (half-larfin' in my sleeve till I a'most snickered agin), 'you are right, gineral, bisness fust and jokes arterward ; that 's jist exactly what you have been doin', only you do n't know it. You '11 find this TRADING IN BED. 1 r " night's work a capital joke some o' these days, or I am mistakened, that 's all. You 'd rather a-had the dead Englishman here along ide of you in bed than me, I know. You might a-got an odd kick from him, but I '11 be hanged if youd'd a-been hit^ The crittur had n t sense enough for that at no time. Oh 1 it was done pretty, that, squire ; it made me feel good all over. It was what I call workman- like. Bed is tUe place for doin' bisness in arter all. You ain't bound to hear all that's said in bed; and if you hesi- tate, and boggle a little, why it looks sleepy like, and not stupid. There ain't time, too, for chafferin' and higglin', too, long ; and a funny story, throw'd in for spice, keeps a feller in good humor. Then there ain't no fear of inter- ruption or observation, and nothin' to distract attention. Bundlin' or courtin' in the new clearin's is done the same It 's the best place for makin' a sarmon in, too, or an w ay. oration, or any diflScult piece of bisness ; but as for dealin' ind traffickin' that requires skill, depend on it, squii'e, if you are only wide awake and duly sober, there is nothin* like * tradin' in bed,^ " 158 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. fs^il CHAPTER XIII. KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS, OR POLLY COFFIN'S 8ANDH0LB. , .■■■■■::;;,; Ji I II ■! ■% '• I M, I. The reckless speculation occasioned by an equally reck- less issue of paper-money, which has of late years ap- peared in the Unite ' States, has had a far more injurious operation than any one who has not carefully watched its progress and eflPects could possibly suppose. The first ap- parent change it produced was to raise the price of real and personal property far beyond their value, and to cause the unhappy delusion, that this feverish excitement was a healthy condition. That a great alteration had taken place was obvious to all ; and those who were profiting by it, found it by no means a difficult task to make men believe it was the natural result of republican institutions, of a free trade, a fertile soil, and an intelligent spirit of enterprise. In this opinion they were unfortunately confirmed, by find- ing the liberal party among the English and the colonists constantly repeating the same absurd theory, and contrast- ing the high prices of the United States with the sounder and more rational condition of Canada, as a proof of the superior advantages of elective governments over a mon- archy. They all affected to be unable to attribute the dif- ference in the price of land on the opposite sides of the boundary-line to any other cause than the ballot, universal suffrage, and annual elections. The consequence of all KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 159 this has been, that the Americans have suflPered immense losses in their trade, vvhile the colonists have suffered no less in their peace and happiness, by the introduction of wild theories of government by those whose rank and in- fluence gave a mischievous weight to their opinions. In the states, however, the great pecuniary loss they ha\e sustained is by far the least injury they have incurred from this unfortunate error. Thetj have svffered in their morals. A wild and unprincipled speculation like this has no pre- tension to be dignified by the name of trade or enterprise. It is one of the worst species of gambling, inasmuch as it originates in deception, and is contaminated with fraud throughout. The preceding sketch, which is founded on fact, shows with what care even clever and experienced men like General Corncob can be duped, when their cau- tion is disarmed bv the eagerness of speculation ; and how readily a man like the clockmaker can reconcile himself, by the aid of a little sophistry, to a fraudulent transaction. "Had you no compr.nction," said I, "Mr. Slick, in palm- ing off upon the general that worthless bond, and in taking from him so large a sum of money as two thousand dollars, without giving him any equivalent whatever." — "Com- punction," said he, in grent astonishment, "why, no, squire; why should I ? This ain't tradin', it 's spekilatin'. It makes all the difference in the world. For instance, I make a throw, you see, and he buys it. Well, if it wins, he gets whatever we raffled for, and if it don't, he loses, that's all. Great gains cover many losses. If one land spekilation in ten turns out well, and is rael jam, it makes a man's nest. Oil, no ! if it was trade, why, honor bright ! but it tan't, it's spekilatin'; and you might as well call loo, or put, or Pf 160 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. nm F-'ii;' ;*i| r.'!: all-fom-s, or any otlier game, trade. It tan't givin' valy f<»r a thing, it 's huyin' a chance. Now, there is no more harm done in settin' oflP a chance to advantage than in platin' a candlestick, or gildin' a frame. It 's puffin', that 's all, and that's done every day everywhere; so it is in smugglin' — do you suppose there is any harm in that 1 If you snniggle clever, you win; if you don't it's seized, and there is an eend on it ; you lose the trick, but the game is not immoral." It would be difficult to believe that so sensible a man as Mr. Slick could be the dupe of such shallow nonsense, if daily experience did not prove how much easier men can deceive themselves where their interest is concerned, than satisfy others, and how soon the morals of a country are damaged by this sort of national gambling. The explana- tion was disagreeable. I was reluctant to permit him to lower himself in my opinion, and I changed the conversa- tion by a reference to colonial subjects. These were topics on which I admired to hear him talk, as his observations were generally correct, often original, and always amusing. *' Yes," said he, ** I must say, without a morsel of vanity, I estimate I have picked up a few notions of men and things in a gineral way that every one can 't boast of. Now, there 's them colonies and colony-chaps, Lord, I know their ins and outs better than they do themselves. Oh, dear ! I wish I had the berth Lord Sir John Russell, queen's prime minister for immigrants, has, for jist one month. The wny I 'd show him how to handle the ribbons ain't no matter, I know. I'd I'arn him how to set on the box, how to hold the whip atween his teeth, and to yawk the reins with botii hands, so as to make each boss in the team feel he had ;; KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 161 master tliat was none o' the scariest, and that wouldn't put up with no nonsense. A cross-grained, ongainly crittur wouldn't frighten me by layin' down and refusin' to draw, I tell you. I'd jist start the rest of the cattle into a hand- some lope, and give him a drag over the gravel till I scratched his hide for him a considerable sum, and see how double quick he 'd get tired of that fun, up on his pegs, and go as quiet as a lamb. Lord, I 'd come down on him like a duck on a June bug ; I 'd make him wake snakes, and walk his chalks, as the western folks say, I know. Nothin' vexes an onruly beast like takin' no notice of him, but jist movin' on as if it was all the same to you what he did, as you know how to fix his flint. I have an idea that no man can be a good statesman that can 't drive well. There 's a great deal to be I'arned from bosses. Natur' is natur', that is £, fact ; but the natur' of a boss ain't human, that 's all, and he can 't talk ; study him, therefore, &nd man comes easy arter that. There ain't no part of a boss I don't know — stock, lock, or barrel. No man can 't cheat me in a boss. As for a John Bull, or a Blue-nose, I never seed one yet that I could n't walk right into like a pumkin-pie. They are as soft as dough, them fellers. No, sir ; a steady arm and a light hand is what is wanted, not givin' them their head one minit, and curbiu' them the next, and 'most throwin' *em down. That's no way to drive, but jist the way to spile their temper ; but bein' afeerd on 'em is the devil, it ruins 'em right off. Oh, dear ! if I was only along- side Lord Sir John on the state-box, I 'd teach him in six lessons so that he could manage them by whisperin' ; but you might as well whistle jigs to a milestone as to an Eng- lishman, they are so infarnal sot in their ways. The first 7* f ilir ' K 4 [if ; .si ■ f ' MBI I" ■ \m' ■w ill' ■''■*' a::?!: 162 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. thing to know how to get safe into port is to study the soundings. " I mind a trick I played once on old ' Tarnal Death,' as we called Captain Ebenezer Fathom, the skipper I went to South sea with. He kiiowed every inch of the American coast as well as he did of his own cabin ; and whenever he throwed the lead, and looked at what sort of bottom it showed, he knowed as well wliere he was as if he was in sight of land. He did beat all, that's a fact, and proper proud he was of it too, a-boastin' and a-crackin' of it for everlastingly. So, afore I goes aboard, oflf I slips to a sand- pit on Polly Coffin's betterments, where they got sand for the Boston iron foundaries, and fills a bag with it and puts it away in my trunk. Well, we was gone the matter of three years on that voyage afore we reached home ; and as we neared the Nantuckit coast. Captain Ebenezer comes down to the cabin and turns in, and says he, ' Sam,' says he, * we are in sound in's now, I calculate ; run on till twelve o'clock, and then heave-to and throw the lead, for it is as dark as Comingo, and let me see what it fetches up, and, 'tarnal death ! 1 '11 tell you to the sixteenth part of an inch what part of the thirteen united uiiivarsal worlds we be in.' — ♦ What will you bet,' says I, ' you do ?' — 'I'll bet you a pound of the best Varginy pigtail,' says he ; ♦ for I am out of backy this week past, and have been chawing oakum until my jaws fairly stick together with the tar. Yesterday, when you turned in, I throwed out a signal of distress, and brought a JBiitisher down on us five miles out of his way; but, cuss him, when he found out I only wanted a pig of tobacco, he swore like all vengeance, and hauled his wind right off. What 'tarnal gulls and fools they be, ain't they ? KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 163 Yes, I'll bet you a pound of the best.' — 'Done,' says I, ' I '11 go my death on it you don't tell ; for I never will believe no soul can steer by the lead, for sand is sand every- where ; and who can tell the difference?' — 'Any fool,' said he, * with half an eye, in the pitchiest, inkiest, lamp- blackiest night that ever was created. I did n't get here into the cabin by junipin' thro* the skylight, as national officers do, but worked my way in from before the mast. 'Tarnal death to me ! a man that don't know soundin's when he sees it is fit for nothin' but to bait shark-hooks with. Soundin's, eh ? why, I was born in soundin's, sarved my time out in soundin's, and made a man of in soundin's, and a pretty superfine fool I must be if I don't know 'em. Come, make yourself scarce, for I am sleepy ;' and he was a-snorin' afoie I was out of the cabin. Well, at twelve o'clock we hove-to, and sure enough found sand at fifty fathom, as he said we would. What does I do but goes and takes another lead and dips it into the water to wet it, and then stirs it in the ^'t of sand I had stowed away in my trunk, and then goes and wakes up the skipper. 'Hollo, shipmate!' says I, ' here 's the lead: we have a got a sandy bottom in fifty fathom, as you said.' — ' Exactly,' says he, ' did n't I tell you so. I can feel my way all along the coast when it's so dark you can't hear yourself speak. I know every foot of it as well as if I made it myself. Give me the lead.* As soon as he took it and looked at it, he juinpt right up on eend in bed, ' Hollo !* said he, ' what the devil's this ? give me my specs, that 's a good feller, for I don't see as well as I used to did.' So I goes to the table and hands him his spectacles, and says I, • I knew you could n t tell no more than any one ^11 11:31" llll t: m I m 164 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. else by the lead. That are boast of yourii was a barn, and iiothin' else. I'll trouble you for your pound of Varginny pigtail ; jist enter it in the log, will you ]' — ' Heavens and airth !' said he, a-mutterin' to himself, ' old Nantuck is .sunk, an airthquake, by gum ! What a dreadful piece of bisness this is!' He looked as white as chalk: his eyes started most out of his head, and his hair looked a hundreJ ways for Sunday. Lord, how frightened he looked, he WdS quite onfakilised. ' 'Tarnal death tome!' says he, 'bring the andle here agin ;' and then he wiped his eyes fust, and then his specs, and took another long look at it, as steady a^ if he was a drawin* a bead on it fine with his rifle. After a space, he jumps right out of bed on the floor, a)id bawls out as loud as thunder to the hands on deck — ''Bout ship, boys!' said he, 'bout ship for your lives, as quick as wink I old Nantuck has gone for it as sure as rates, it has by gosh ! I hope I may die this blessed instant minit of time if that are lead has n't gone right slap into old Aunt Polly Coffin's sandhole. What a spot o' work this is! Poor old Nantuck!' and he was jist ready to cry a'most, he seemed so sorry. ' Stop,' says I, ' captain, I 'm 'most afeerd I 've made a mistake ; I do believe I 've gin you the wrong lead : look at this,' a-handin' up to him and a-showin' of him the right one. - Ah !' says he, fust a-smilin' and then bustin' out in a hoss- laugh, ' you thought to caicli me, Samrr.y, did you, my boy ? but it's more nor you nor any livin' soul can. None o' you can put the leake into nie where soundin's is consarned. I defy all creation to do that. Nothin' but an airthquake can do that. Let her off two pints, and hold on that way till daylight. Nobody had better not go I'oolin' with me; and KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 165 then lie swung round and fixed for a nap, agin inakin' a chucklin' noise, half grunt, half-larf. ' Catch me, catch the devil, will you ? Think I don't know the bar grit from Polly Coffin's sandhole ? Oh ! of course I don't, I don't know nothin', nor never did ; I never had no eyes nor no sense nother. Old folks never know nothin', and never will ; so, 'tarnal death to you ! teach your grandmother to clap ashes, and your daddy how to suck eggs, will you V •' Now, squire, I know the soundin's of them are colonies as well as Captain Ebenezer did Nantucket bottom, and could put his royal highness, Lord Sir John Russell, up to a thing or two he don't know, that's a fact. He ought to go and see for himself, how else can he know whether folks are drawin' the wool over his eyes or no, or whether it's proper to 'bout ship or not 1 Do you think he could tell now, or any other British minister that ever stood in shoe- leather, from the days of old Captain Noah, of the ark- whaler, downward, how many kinds of patriots there are in the colonies? no, not he. It's a question that would pose most men, unless they had sarved an apprenticeship to state teachin'. Well, there are jist five. Rebel patriots, mahogony patriots, spooney patriots, 'place patriots, and rael genuine patriots. Now, to govern a colony, a man ought to know these critturs at first sight ; for they are as different from each other as a boss is from a jackass, or a hawk from a handsaw. A rchcl fatriot is a gentleman that talks better than he fights, han't got much property in a giweral way, and hopes to grab a little in the universal scramble. He starts on his own hook, looks to his rifle for his support, and shoots his own game. If he got his due, he would get a gallus for his reward. A mahogoin/ patriot is a '"X- rr 166 BAM FLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. i: ..± M- i;v,(i 111 Si' > CI ittur tliat rides like a beggar a-liorseback : you'll know liiin by his gait. As soon as be begins to get on a bit in the world, he is enrious of all them that's above him, and if he can't get his legs onder the mahogony of his betters, is for takin' his betters' mahogony away from them. To skin his pride over and salve his vanity, he says he is excluded on account of his politics and patriotism, a martyr to his vartuo. This chap mi.^takes impedence for inde- pendence, and abuse for manliness : he is jist about a little the dirtiest and nastiest bird of the whole flock of patriots. This feller should be sarved out in his own way : he should stand in the pillory and be pelted with rotten eggs. A spoonvy 2^(i^riot is a well-meanin', silly Billy, who thinks the Morld can be reduced to squares like a draftboard, and governed by systems ; who talks about reforms, codify in', progression, schoolmasters abroad, liberality, responsibility, and a pack of party catchwords that he don't knoN/ the meaning of. This chap is a fool, and ought to go to the infarmary. A place patriot is a rogue : he panders to popular prejudice, appeals to the passions of the mob, and tries to set them agin' their richer neighbors, and attempts to ride on their shoirlders into the government, and to secure place will sacrifice everything that is valuable, and good, and respectable. He is a philosopher in his religion, and a rascal in his philosophy. He is wilful, and acts against conviction. This man is the loudest and most dangerous of all, and should go to the workhouse. The true imtriot is one who is neither a sycophant to the governuient nor a tyrant to the people, hut one who will manfully oppose either when they are wrong, who regards whnt's right, as minister said to me, and not what is popular ; who supports KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 167 existin' institutions as a whole, but is willin' to mend or repair any part that is defective." — "Why, Mr. Slick," said I, in the most unfeigned astonishment, " I never heard a republican hold such language before : why you are a tory, if you only knew it. Are you merely talking for effect, or do you really mean what you say ? for your picture of a true patriot is nothing m(fre or less than the picture of a consistent tory. Any person must see the resemblance to the duke of Well " '• Why, squire," said he, interrupting mc, "you don't know our soundin's from Polly Coffin's sandhole as well as I do, or you would n't ax that are question, at no rate. I am a feder- alist when I am to home, tho' I somewhat guess you are a coiisarvative ; but a monarchist in a republic and a repub- lican in a monarchy is jist about on a par — a pair of rebels that ought to be chained together, that they might have time to argue it out. Our government suits us best, yourn suits you best ; a good citizen stands by his own. I don't care who looks like the pictur'. I drawed one of a true patriot, and you may give him what nickname you please ; but I han't done yet. I want to show you the soundin's of the colonial tories, for mind, I ain't no party man. I don't care a snap o' my finger who's up or who's down; I 'm a Yankee, and my name is Sam Slick ; at least they tell me so. Now, the colonial tories, compacts, officials, divine succession men, cliques, or whatever they are — for they have as many aliases as the Spanish pirate had that was hanged to Boston — are about the best folks goin', to my mind, to trade with, and the nearest up to the notch; yet there are three sorts of them. " WHiole hog 5, who won't hear of no change, good or bad, '(f'l i: / i I 1' t!' 1«8 SAM SUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. right or wrong, at no rate. These critturs are of the don- key hiood. They stick tlicir head into the fence, and h\sh awny with their lieels right and left, till all is blue agin. Fashionable ovcs, who don't care ninch about politics, hut join that side because the upper-cru.st folks and betterninst people are that way of thinkin' : jackdaw birds, that bor- row feathers to strut in. If the great men or the governor was a radical, these critturs would be radical too. They fake their vnlur from the ohjcct thcjj look vp to. Then there is the moderate ones : now extremes meet, and a moderate colonial compact chap and a true patriot are so near alike it would puzzle a l*liiladeli)hia lawyer to tell 'em apart. I shouldn't like to let on that I said so; for, cuss *em, if it had n't a-been for them the patriots or reformers, winter afore last, would have throwd Canady into our hands as slick as i:;rease ; and I wouldn't a-said to others what I have said to you for nothin' a'most. Now, if I was Jolin Russell (for ihem almighty long tails worn afore a man's name instead of behind it, always bother me, and it comes handier to me not to use them) — if I was him, I 'd jist slip off on the sly to the provinces without sayin' of a word, and travel as plain Mr. Russell (and, I guess, nobody would take him for a lord unless he told 'em so, for he ain't overly tall, that 'k a fact) and jist take the soundin's of these folks myself. He'd hear the truth, then, for some patriot-folks say one thing to a governor, and another to the world. He 'd know, too, when influence was character, and when it was trick. When he returned again to home, to the statehouse in Downin' street, and a colonist brought him a lead to look at, he'd tell with half an eye, like Captain Ebenezer, wheth- w KNOWING THE SOUNDINGS. 1G9 cr it had sand on it froin the rail hottoin, or Polly CnffirCs sandholc. "If them jawin' Jacks to paiTinient liad half the sense my poor old mother had, they M know what to say when tlitnn patriot critturs come home with their long lockrums about grievances, with an everlastin' lyin' preface to it aboMt loyalty. They'd say, as she used to did, poor old crittur, to me when I boasted what a good boy I was a-goin' to bQ : ' Sam,' she 'd say, ' I'd a ])lagU7/ sight sooner see it than hear tell of it' It puts me in mind of what an Ingian once said to a British governor afore our glorious Revolution. He was a great hand was the Britisher (like some other folks I coidd tell you of) to humbug with talk, and was for reform- in' everything a'most, and promised al! sorts of things, and more, too, that he did not mean ; but all his speeches would read both ways, so that he could intarpret them as he liked ; po, whichever way things eventuated, he was always right. A rigilar i^olitician, that ! One day he called his red chil- dren togetlier, as he called the Ingians, and made tJiem a speech, too. It was a beautiful speech, I tell you, all in bad English, that it might be understood better and sound Ingian-like. Bimeby, when he had done, up rises an old chief, a rael salt, and as cunnin' as a fox, for he was quite a case that feller, and, says he, 'Mr. Gubbernor.' — 'Let my son speak,' said the governor, ' and his great father will open his ear and hear him, and he will keep his words in his heart ;' and he clapt his hand on his breast and looked as spoony as a woman does on her first child. ' Very good jaw that, Mister Gubbernor,' said he ; ' you speak um dam well ; now. Mister Gubbernor, try and actum well, for that is more better.' That 's exactly the language John Rus- fp I I ■ Btl i'H'i'' E 1 m4 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. sell ought to hold t(^ colony patriots when they boast of their loyalty ; he should say, 'Actum well, for that's more better still.' Whenever he does that, I shall think he knows ' tlie rael soundin's from Polly Coffin^ s sandhole ;^ won't you, squire ?" Hjiip li'] i-'J I I' m\ •Ml CHAPTER XIV. AN OM) FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. Having travelled this day from Parnassus to Thebes,* a distance of tliirty-five miles, we concluded to remain where we were., although there were some two or three hours of daylight yet to spar?,, and to resume our journey on the following morning. Tliebes is a small town, nor does there appear to heave been any grounds whatever for supposing that it could, by any possible contingency, ever attain the size or imitate the splendor of that whose name has been thought so appropriate as to be transferred to this little assemblage of wooden houses and log huts. The town appeared to have been abandoned by its inhabitants for some temporary purpose, for the houses, though all closed, bore marks of recent occupation. The shops and taverns were open, as if in readiness to receive the returning popu- lation, while the scaffolds, heaps of mortar, and unloaded wagons of timber, all exhibited signs of a hasty desertion of the workmen. Tlie silence and melancholy that reigned * I have used these names, instead of the real ones, as well on ac- count of avoiding local offence, as of their ahsurd adoption in the states AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 171 thiougli llie streets constituted the only point of resem- blance to its great prototype. So unusual an occurrence naturally excited my curiosity, and upon inquiring its cause, I was informed there was a gathering, of a religious bee, at a short distance, which was most numerously attended by people from a distance as well as the immediate neigh- borhood ; that there was a great "stir," and a preacher of morMmi|^n«p«VH AN OLD FKJEND WITH A NEW FACE. 173 of the forests, the horses belonging to each carriage being unharnessed and severally fastened by a halter to the axle- tree for seonvjty, Here and tliCrB were tents and booths, giving the field the appearance of a military encampment ; and on the edge of the woods, and under the shade of the giants of the forest, were numerous conical wigwams, made after the fashion of the Indians, and resembling one of their summer fishing establishments. In the centre of the clearing was a large barn, which was filled by a mixed and mottled multitude of people listening to the wild declama- tion of the preacher, whose voice was occasionally heard over the whole field, as he screamed out his f.ightful de- nunciations. Groups of men were scattered about the field, seated on the huge stumps which here and there dotted the suiface of the ground, or perched on the upper rails of the wooden fence, discussing business or politics, or canvassing the doctrines or merits of the preacher ; while others were indolently lounging about the refreshment-booths, whiling away the time with cigars and mint-julep, until they should be joined by their fair friends at the houi of inter- mission. After some difficulty, Mr. Slick an myself forced our way into the barn, and fortunately obtained standing-room on one of the seats, from which we had a view of the whole interior. One preacher had just ceased as we entered. He was succeeded by another, a tall, thin, and rather consump- tive-looking man, who had a red silk pocket-handkerchief tied about his head, and wore no neckcloth. There was something quite ai)paHing in his look. There was such a deep dejection in his countciiauco, such a settled melan- whuly, such a look of total abstraction and resignation to the m IW 'in 'ri f V; 174 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. y^~, 'S. ! I:' I endnrance of some inevitable fate, tliat I was forcibly re- miiifled of tlie appearance of an unfortunate criminal when led out for execution. Instantly all was linslicfl, every eve was upon iiini, anc^ every ear in anxious solicitude to citeh the almost inaudible whispers that fell from bis lips. Now and then, a word was beard, and then a few unconnected ones, and, sliortly,* a few brief sentences or niaxinis. Pres- ently, bis enunciation was clear and distinct, and it gradu- ally increased in volume and rapidity, until it became pain- fully loud, and then commenced gesticulation, emphasis, and raving. It was one unceasing flow of words without pause or interruption, except for an occasional draught of water from a stone-j)itcher that was placed beside him. Even this, however, was insufiicient to prevent exhaustion, and he removed bis coat. He then commenced the great effort of bis eloquence — a description of the tortures of the damned. It was a studied and frightful piece of declama- tion, in which be painted their wild, demoniac shrieks, their blasphemous despair, their unquencbed and unquenchable thirst — the boiling, steaming lake of brimstone — their un- willing tenacity of existence, and increased sensibility of pain. When all the figures of speecii and all his powers of imagination were exhausted, be finished the horrible picture by the introduction of fallen angels, who, with expanded wings, hovered for ever and ever over this awful abyss, whose business and plea-sure was, as the boiling of the in- fernal caldron brought any of the accursed to the surface, with spears of heated, glowing metal to thrust them deeper and further into the burning flood. The groans, scieams, and hysterical laughter of the fe- male part of the audience was so frightful and appalling ai iBHKI^ AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 175 accompaniment to this description, that my feelings became intensely painful, and I was about leaving the building, when his voice suddenly dropped from the unnatural pitch to which he had strained it, and sunk into a soft and seduc- tive tone, in which, in- the mildest and gentlest manDer, he invited them to accompany him to paradise, which he de- sciihed, after the manner of the Mohammedans, as as abode fiM-nishcd Avith all the delicacies and pleasures most suited to their senses and corporeal enjoyments. He then repre- sented the infernal regions as the doom of those who be- longed not to the band of Avhich he was the head, in the absence of its persecuted founder, " Corcoran," and invited his hearers to fellowship. "Enough," said I to Mr. Slick, "and more than enough, lam disgusted and horrified; let us go." — "I 'most won- der you staid so long," said he ; " it is awful hot here, and that crittur talked so of sulphur I've actilly got the taste of it in my mouth ; my tongue is all warped and curled up like singed shocleather. I must have a brandy-cocktail to cool it. But I've seen that feller afore: I know his voice and the cut of his jib as well as anything, but to call his name out, to save my soul alive I can't. They call him Concord Fisher, but that is not his rael name, that's a bam. Where on airth have I seen that goney ? for seen him I have, by gum ?" The following morning, he said, *' Who do you think that are preacher was, squire ? I told you I know'd I had seed liiiii afore, for I never forgot a face yet ; tho' names are con- siderable slippery, and it ain't jist so easy to keep hold on such soapy things. It was that everlastin' skirnimlgonn, Ahnb Meldrum ; it was, I swear. Last night, jist as I v as 4 *\'i Ivl :|-.., li^ i §'%' ^ m 1, ■m 176 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. a-tiiniiu' in, who should slip into my room but Ahab? ' Sam,' says he, ' I seed you to the great '• stir," and know'd you in a niinit ; you are jist the man I want to see, for I need your advice ; but, for the love of Heaven, give me some brandy and water, for I am e'en a'most dead ;' and he gave a kind of tanyard grin that went right straight to the heart. ' We have to preach teetotalism here, for nothiu' else will go down; but it's easier to preach than in-i\ct(se that: give me some grog, or I shall die.' — 'It sarves you right,' says I, ' for bein' such a 'tarnal hypo- crite : why the devil don't you take your grog like a man, If you need it, above-boord, off-hand handsum, and let them that don't like it lump it, that's my way; I don't approbate no nonsense.' Well, I goes and gets some brandy and water, enough to make a night-cap for two, and, says I, * Swig aAvay till you are tired, now, will you? you are safe with me ; I won't blow you, you may depend !' Well, I pitied the poor critter, too, for he looked as pale and as white about the gills as a scalded nigger : I actilly thought he would have fainted, he was so weak. ' Take a drop of it neat,' says I, ' water only spiles it :' and I poured him out a gill of the pure grit, which brought his color back and revived him a bit. When he come to, says I, ' Ahab, what onder the sun brought you here ? what made you leave Alabama ? You v/as gittin' on like a house a-fire there, a soft-sawderin* the women there, with your new rule in grammar, that the feminine gender was more worthy than the masculine, and the masculine more better nor the neuter, and so forth. I hope you han't been illustratin', eh ? no more Polly Bacons. 1 hope, eh 1 you was always a sly feller that way : what was it V — ' Sam,' says he, ' I've been a fool, and it sarves iTTrm' r AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW PACE. 177 me rlglit ; I was clDin' the smartest chance of preachin' there of any man in the state, and I throw'd it away like an ass. I am punished enough, anyhow ; spare me, for I am as weak as a child, and can 't stand Jobeing. Spare me, that's a good crittur, and don't you bark agin me, too, for it will drive me crazy;' and he put his hand to his face and bo- hood right out. ' Why, you poor crittur,' says I — for a touch of old times come over me, when we was boys to school together, and I felt kinder sony to see him that way, lookin' so streaked — * why, you poor crittur,' says I, ' you 've worn yourself out a-screachin' and a-screamin' that ^vay, and yellin' like a ravin' distracted bedbug; let me mix you a pitcher of eggnogg, stiflP enough to stick to your ribs as it goes down, and it will make a man of you agin in two-twos.' So away I goes and gets a lot of eggs and sugar, and some brandy, and mixes up a dose that would float a dollar a'most, and made him drink it. ' Now,' says I, ' for your rule in grammar ; how did it work V — ' Well,* says he, * it *s no use concealin' any thin' from you, Sam ; it didn't turn out well in the eend, that's a fact. People be- gan to talk considerable hard and Lynchy about their gals comin' so often to a single man to tell their experience, and to wrastle with the spirit, and so on ; and the old women began to whisper and look coonish ; and at last — for I don't want to go into pitikilars, for it ain't an overly pleas^ ant subject — I got a notice to make myself scarce from Judge Lynch ; and as I knowed a little grain more about the matter than they did, and guessed the secret would soon be obleeged to be known, I felt my jig was up, and I jist took the hint and made tracks. Tlien I hooked on to the Cor- rornites, and iicie I am among them, I must say, rather 8 i il .1., i; i:':f- r* iLi 178 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND J0ING3. takin' the lead. Folks actilly do say I take the rag off quite, all along up and down Maine and Varmont, and a piece be- yond ; but I can *t stand it ; 1 shall die ; the excitement is too much for me. I have endured more already than a dead nigger in a doctor's shop could stand. Livin' so long in a hot climate, I ha'n't strength for it, and I am fairly used up and worn out. What do you think of socialism ? it seems as if it would go down, that. It's gittin' kinder fashionable. Owen writes me word he has been introduced to court to England, of which he is proper proud, and a nation sight of people patronize it since, a complete swad of them. He says it will trip the heels of the church yet, let the bishops do their prettiest, for socialists have votes as well as other folks, and must be courted, and are courted, and will be courted, all through the piece. He seems quite up in the stirrups, and jist dares them to prosecute him. I have had liberal offers from the sect here ; for whatever is the go to Europe will soon be the chalk here; and, to tell you the truth, I feel most peskily inclined to close with them, for them rational religionists live like men, and ain't so everlastin' strait-laced in matters of the heart as others be, nother. In fact, they are jist about the most liberal sect I know on. Now, tell me candid, has it a bot- tom, or is it a bam 1 Will it stand, or will public opinion be too strong for it? for I don't want to embark on board a leaky ship; when I spikilate I like to have the chances in my favor. * Well, Ahab,' says I, ' you make me crawl like all over, to hear you talk so loose, so you do ; what a devil of a feller you be ; you are actilly bad enough to be nigger-in-law to old Scratch, you are so bad ; you have tried every sect there is, a'most, and now you talk of turnin '"■■•'■"'•• '"" ■I AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 179 infidel, as coolly as of turnin' into bed. Give up preachin', you ain't fit for it, nor never was, and more nor that, you lia'n't Btrengtli for it. If you don't mind, you'll go for it yet. Go where you ain't known, and either go tradin' or go farmin'.' — ' Too hard work, Sam,' said he, ' too hard work ; but socialism strikes me as rather genteel, while the work is light, the pay good, and religious liherty great. Jist hand me the brandy tho, that's a good feller, please. I must take some clear, for that eggnog is cold and heavy on the stomach ;' and he drank off near about half a pint without winkin'. ' No,' said he, ' no ox-carts for me, Sammy, boy ; no, nor backy, nor cotton nother ; they are low, very low, them. Corcoran, the head of our sect, is in jail. They are a-goin' to give him a berth in the stateprison. It 's all day with him now ; and I must say it kinder sarves him right for not takin' up his killock, when he seed he was a-gitten into such an almighty frizzle of a fiz. What 's the use of legs but to absquotilate with, like a jumpin' bullfrog when traps are sot for you. What I want to know is, whether so — so — social — socialism ca — an stand or no V — ' Not much better than you can, I expect,' says I, for he was blind drunk now, and as dumb as a wooden clock two years old ; and I lifted him on the bed with all his runnin* riggin' on, and there he was this mornin' when I got up, a-snorin' like a sizeable buffalo. Oh, squire," said the clock- maker, '* that are Ahab has made me feel dreadful ugly, I tell you. Old times kinder touches the heart ; I look on my old classmates like brothers, and I don't feel sorter riglit when I see one on 'em actin' like old Scratch that way. A bad man is bad enough, the Lord knows ; but a had minister beats the devil, that's as plain as preachin'," hi. i.{ VIM ■'W* i^ I 180 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. CHAPTER XV. M Gi» ti THE UNRURIED ONE. As we approached Boston, Mr. Slick said, " Ah, squire ! now you will see as pretty a city as we have this side of the water. I'liere is a good many folks worth seein' here, and a good many curiosities of natur', too. T' re's the statehouse, and old Funnel, and Charleston college, and the market-place, and the wharf they give to the British steamer (an act of greater liberality p'raps than you'll find, I estimate, in the world), and ever so many things. Then there 's Mount Auburn. Lord, the French may crack and boast as much as they please, about their * Pair o'Shaise,' b'lt it's no touch to it. Why, I never was so disappointed in anything in all my life, since I was broughten up, as that are Paris buryin'-ground. It looks for all the icorld like an old mined town, ichere the hottses are all gone, and the porches, and stcj^s, and dog-hennels, are left. It ha'n't no interest in it at all, except the names o' them that's buried there; but Mount Auburn is worth seein' for itself. It's actilly like pleasure-ground, it's laid out so pretty, and is the grandest place for courtin' in I know on, it's so ro- mantic. Many a woman that's lost one husband there has found another in the same place. A widower has a fine chance of seein' widders there, and then nobody ever sus- pects them of courtin*, bein' that they are both in black, but takes 'em for mourners, and don't intrude on 'em out li THE UNBURTED ONE. 181 of pity. I'll go a bet of (»no Imiidicd dollars the women invented that place, for they beat all natur' for contrivances, so th,'y do. Yes, squire, if you have a mind for a rich young widder, clap a crape weeper on your hat, and a white nose-rag in your hand, and go to Mount Auburn, and you'll see some heavenly splices there, I tell you, in some o' them arc shady walks, that will put all the dead in creation out of your head a'niost. Them saller-lookin', garlic-eatin' French heifers you see to I'air-o'-Shaise' may have better top-gear, and better riggin' in gineral than our gals, and so they had ouglit, seein' that they think of nothin' else but dress ; bu* can they show such lips, and cheeks, and complexions, that' all, or such clinker-built models ? No, not them, nor any other women of any other nation in the univarsal world. If they can, it's some place that's not discovered yet, that's all I can say, and you must go a leetle further than the eend of the airth to find them, for they ain't this side of it. You must see Mount Auburn to-morrow, squire, that 's a fact ; but then, leave your heart to home, to the TVcmont, as folks do their watches when they go to the thentre to London, or you will lose it as sure as you are born. Oh, there is a sartain somethin' about Boston that always make an American feel kinder proud. It was the cradle of our cradle. The voice of our young eagle was first heard here, and at Bunker's hill, which is near the town, it gave the British the first taste of its talons. " ' Newburyport 's a rocky place, And Salem 's very sandy, Charlestown is a pretty town, But Boston is the dandy.' I guess the English must feel most awful streaked when " i'^-j M a! vii k 182 SAM RUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. i !(' * "■' \ r f: i ^rl Ml l'' i,k * To divert him fr^m a topic on which his national vanity always made him appear ridiculous, I observed, that " I believed there was one opinion among strangers about Boa- ton, wlio were always much pleased with the place and its society, but that I was not myself fond of cities as cities. Long streets and broad streets," said I, " walls of brick and mortar, and stones heaped on stones, have few charms for me. Even architectural beauty is, after all, but the effect of a judicious aiTangement of poor materials. It is good of its kind, but not one of those things I most admire. It may have many component parts of beauty ; it may combine lightness, strength, proportion, and so on. The general effect may be good, criticism may be satisfied, and the eye dwell on it with complacency. You may be willing to concede to it the usual terms of praise. You may say it is grand, or magnificent, or exquisite, or beautiful. You may laud the invention, the judgment, and skill of the architect ; you may say, in short, that your artificial and acquired taste for architectural beauty is gratified and con- tent (an admission, by-the-by, which it is very rare to hear), but still it is but the work of the hodsman and mason. I do not mean to underrate its importance, because, as a great part of mankind must dwell in cities, and all must live in houses, few things are of greater consequence than the ap- pearance of those cities and houses ; and order, syi imetry, and the general adaptation of the parts to each other, and to the whole, are matters of deep interest to us all. I merely mean to say, that the most beautiful building is but a work of art, and that, as such, it gives me less pleasure than many other works of art, and that it falls so immeas- urably short of the works of nature, of which I am a great s^^s THE UNBUBIED ONE. 183 arlmirer, I fear I do not derive all that pleasure from it that it is capable of affording. I like cities, therefore, not for themselves, but as a gregarious animal for the greater num- ber of my own species they contain, and for the greater op- portunity they afford me of meeting the idem velle and idem nolle people, among whom only, we are told by a very com- petent judge, is to be found true friendship. But, even in this case, I am not sure I do not lose in quality as much as I gain in quantity ; ' for I fear that though there be more refinement in the citizen, there is less heart than in the countryman. Before you can impart its brightness to steel, you must harden its texture ; and the higher the polish, the more indurated you will find the substance. By this process it lo^es its pliability and acquires brittleness, and its strength is diminished in proportion to its beauty. It is a gay de- ceiver. It flatters your vanity by its devotion to yourself. Its smooth and brilliant service will reflect your image uhilc present, but the very operation of refinement has de- stroyed its susceptibility of an impression. It is your own smile that is returned to you, but it refuses to retain it when you cease to look upon it. As a lover of nature, therefore, I love the country and the man that inhabits it. I find more of beauty in the one, and of generous impulses in the other, than I find in cities or in courtiers." ' I reciprocate that idee," said the clockmaker. " Give me the folks that like ' human natur',' and ' soft-sawder.* Tliem critturs in towns, in a gineral way, have most com- monly cut their eye-teeth, and you can't make nothiu of them. There is no human natur' in them to work on ; and as for soft-sawder, they are so used to it themselves, it seems to put 'em on their guard like. They jist button up mm „».L^J! i^^-' m^' m> 1\ IV' I! ,; 1 If I If' I I l84 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. their pockets, and wrinkle up their foreheads, and look on you with their eyts wide apart, onnieanin'-like, as if they warn't attendin', and bow you out. Nothin' makes me feel so onswoggled as one of the ' I guess-you-may-go' kind of staref ; it 's horrid. But as for our country folks, Lord ! you can walk right into 'em like nothin*. 1 swear I could row a boat-load on 'em cross-handed right up agin the stream in no time. Boston is a fine town, that 's sartain, tho' I won't jist altogether say it 's better nor Edinboro', nor Dublin nother ; but it 's " " Talking of Dublin," said I, " reminds me of the singular story I overheard you telling some countryman in Nova Scotia of the remarkable state -of preservation in which the dead bodies are found under St. Michan's church, and especially the anecdote of the 'Two Shears's;' was that a fact, or one of your fanci- ful illustrations given for the sake of eflPect ?" — "Fact, squire, I assure you," said he, " and no mistake : I seed it M'ith my own eyes no longer than two years agone. Gos- pel, every word of it." — "You mentioned there was a female exhibited with them in the same perfect state — vrho was she?" — "Oh! she was a nun," said he; "she had been there the matter of the Lord knows how many years a-kickin' about, and nobody knew her name, or who her folks were, or where the plague she come fiom. All they knowd was she was a nun that wouldn't let no one see so much as the color of her eyes while she lived, but made up bravely for it arter she was dead. If you had only a-heerd how it made the old sea-captain rave like a mad poet at the full of the moon, it would have made you laugh, I know. I sot him a-goin' on purpose ; for nothin' pleases me BO much as to see an old feller try to jump Jim Crow ip ^B uilWWUHUyww ^2^ffl THE UNBURIED ONE. 185 an oratioi. So, says I, 'Captain,' says I, 'tbat are nun warn't a bad-lookin' heifer in her day nether, was she ? a rael, right down, scrumptious-lookin' piece of farniture, and no mistake ; but what in natur' was the use of her veilin' her face all her life to keep off the looks of sinful, carnal man, if they Avon't veil her arter she is dead, and no one wants to look at her. Oh, dsar ! oh, dear ! if hhe could only wake up now and see us two great he fellers a-ctand- in' starin' at her full in the face, what an everlastin' hub- bub she would make, wouldn't she? If she wouldn't let go, and kick, and squeel, and carry on like ravin' distracted mad, it 's a pity, that 's all. I say. Miss Stranger,' said I, a-turnin' to our female-guide, and a-chuck\n' her onder the chin, ' now what do you estimate is the first thing that are gall would do in that case — would she— ' but the old ongainly heifer pretended to take a fit of the modest all at once, and jist turned toward the door, and, by ^lingin' the lamp closer to her body, threw the corpses and that corner of the cellar into darkness, and then axin' us if we'd like to see the next vault, led us right up into the churchyard. When we got out into the air, says the old sea-captain, ' I agree with you, Mr. Slack.' — 'Slick, sir, if you please, is my name.' — ' Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Clack, then.' — 'No, nor Mr. Clack nother,' says I; 'it's Slick — Sam Slick is my name !' a-raisiu' of my voice till the buildin' actilly gave an echo agin, for the crittur was as deaf as a (sliad. ' I am from Slickville, Onion county, Conne'ticut, United States of America.' — ' Well, Mr. Slick.' — 'Ah, now you have it,' said I; ' yor 've got it to a T.'— -' To a T!' said he (the old soft horn), * how is that ? I really do n't onderstand how you have a T in it at all.' — ' Oh, dear !' said 6* ■i ' ''»' ti <> ,' i„»t) ■vf .1} f :;'t ■• ' ^i:if' ;!lf ili, WkM'-;8 you had called my attention to the corpse, that it was a female.' — 'No, I sup- pose not,' says I ; * and there 's not one mite or morsel of cant in that, I suppose, at all. How innocent we are, not to know a hawk from a handsaw, ain't we V — * Speak a lit- tle louder,' said the old man, * if you please, sir, for I ha^^e the misfortin' to be a leetle hard of hearin'.' — ' I was sayin', sir,' said I, 'that I don't know as I should nother, if that are woman that showed 'em to us had n't a-said, ' iJcautiful crater, your honor, that same nun must !iave been in her day. The jontlemen all admire her very much entirely. They say she looks like a statue, she does." •" Well, M'ell,' said the captain, kinder snappishly, 'who- ever she was, poor crittur, the exhibition is improper. She has the reputation of having been a nun, who, whatever may be the errors of their creed that induce them volun- tarily to quit a world into Avhich they are sent with certain social duties to perform, have at least the merit of a sincere devotion, and their motives are to be respected. As in litie ^hey are scrupulous in the observance of all the most min- iie proprieties of conduct, they, of all others, seem to have the greatest claim to be exempted from this degrading ex- posure after death. Decay, however, has now commenced, and will soon remove all trace of humanity. Corruption, !BC ■PIP mtum'mm'^imivmmimm BE "WWi'JM THE UNBURIED ONE. 187 according to that beautiful idea of Scripture, will assert it's claim of kindred, and the worm proclaim liimself her brother, ^las ! where now are the gay and thoughtless crowd that thronged to witness the gorgeous and solemn spectacle of a young, beautiful, and innocent sister, assu- ming that veil that was to separate her from the world for ever? Where arc the priests that officiated at the altar — the sisterhood that rejoiced in receiving — the relatives that grieved at surrendering this sacrifice 1 and they, too, whose voices pealed forth the hymn of praise, and poured out the tide of sacred song to the echoing aisles — where are they ? All, all have passed away ! and none, no, not one, is left of all that assembled crowd to disclose her line- age or her name. Their rolls have perished with them, and all that now remains is this unclaimed, unknown, name- less one. Poor thing! has indignant humanity asserted its rights? hath the vindictive world rejected thee, as thou rejected ii,? or why art thou here alone, unhonored and un- known ? Alas ! is there no distinction between the gallows and the cloister] is it fitting that thou, whose life was a life of penance and of prayer, whose pure mind communed only with heavenly objects, should now consort with convicted criminals, and that thy fair form should be laid with the headless trunks of traitors ? Ah, me ! thou hast returned, pooi;, houseless thing ! to thine own, and thine own knows thee no more ! I have seen the grave open to receive its tenant, and the troubled sea its dead, and the green turf and the billowy wave fold them in its bosom, to sleep the slaep that knows no waking. All have their resting-place, save thee ! Ambition has its temple, and wealth its tomb, while even the poor are cared for ; but thou, how is it, fair nm "^^apmp lllll 188 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. I' one, that thou alone of all thy sex should be left the " un- buried one" — the greedy sexton's show, and the vile scof- fer's viler jest ? Who art thou? History can find a place for treason and for crime — could it afford no space for self- denying virtue such as thine? Was there no pious hand to grave thy name on unpretending, monumental stone ? none of all thy father's house to perform the last sad rites of affection — to restore to the earth what was earthy — to the dust, dust — and ashes to ashes? All, all are silent! and even tradition, garrulous as it is, has but one short word for thee — a nun !' " Arter spinnin' this yarn, the old sea-captain turned off to examine the tombstones in the churchyard, and I mount- ed the car to the gate and drove off to the hotel. There was some feelin' and some sense, too, in what he said, tho' he did rant a few, warn't there? but as for his goin' to make believe he did n't know she was a woman, that is what I must say, now, 1 call a most superfine bam, that. Old fellers always think young ones fools ; but young fellers sometimes knoiv old ones is fools. Now, who 'd a-thought, squire," he continued, "that that are old boy would have flowed right off the handle that way for noth- in' at all, at seein' that queer, parchment-colored, wilted, old, onfakilized nun. I think, myself, they might as well bury her ; and if they'd ship her out to minister, I don't make no doubt he'd bury her hisself in Mount Auburn; or to Brother Eklad, and he 'd stick her up in a museum for a show, as they do Mothci Barchell, at Surgeons' hall, to London ; but as for her nam*', who the plague cares what it is? I am sure I don't. I wouldn't give a cent to know, would you ? It sounded kinder pretty, that talk o^ ^s i;7--T"TiB-fri THE UNBURIED ONE. 189 liis, too. Lord ! I wish Sister Sail had a-been there ; if she had a-been, he 'd a-sot her a-boohooin' in no time, I know, for she is quite romantic is Sail, and a touch of the pathetic is what she does love dearly. Whenever she comes across a piece of dictionary like that are, she marks it with a pencil, and gets it by heart, and goes a-spoutin' of it about the house like mad. ' Ain't that fine, Sam V says she; 'ain't it splendid? it's sublime, I declare; it's so feel- in' and so true.' And if I won't go the whole figur' with her, she gets as mad as a hatter. * You han't got no soul in you at all, Sam,' says she ; * I never seed such a crittur ; I do not believe in my heart you think of nothin' but dol- lars and cents.' — * Well, then, I say,' says I, * do n't be so peskily riled, Sally dear; but raelly now, as I am a livin' sinner, I do n't jist exactly onderstand it ; and, as you are more critical than I be, jist p'int out the beauties, that 's a dear love, will you? and see if I don't admire it every mite and morsel as much as you do, and maybe a plaguy sight more.' Well, I get her to set down and go over it all ever so slow, and explain it all as clear as mud, and then she says, ' Now, do you see, Sam, aint it horrid pret- ty V — ' Well,' says I, ' it does sound grand like, that I must say ;' and then I scratch my head and look onfgki- lized ; 'but how did you say that was, dear?' says I, a-p'intin' to the top line; 'I don't jist altogether mind how you explained that.' — ' Why, you stupid crittur, you !' ohe says, 'this way;' and then she goes over it all agin, word for word. 'Now, do you onderstand,' says she, 'you thick-head, you ? Ain't that beautiful? don't that paf's ?' •- ' X - ' says I, ' it does pass, that's a fact, for it passes all oiJ;^rsr ..'din'; but you wouldn't jist explain once more vMm iim ■ t '' HI' i-'iji I'i^ii m'M 11 n'liv;,. ; f^m i, ■Ml % ■H 190 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ■would you, dear V and I looks up wicked and winks at her. •Weil, now, if that ain't too bad,' she says, 'Sam, I de- clare, to make game of me that way. If I hadn't a-beon as blind as a bat, I might have seed with half an eye you was a-bammin' of me the whole blessed time, so I might; but I '11 never speak to you agin, now, see if I do ; so there now !' and away she goes out of the room a-poutin' like any thin'. It's grand fun, that, and don't do a gall no harm nother, for there is nothin' like V fin' a strip" ^'' : kite, when it's a-gettin' away out of i •'.: >' ^ost. tc ';iT:^ it down agin. Of all the seventeen vf??Tr.-, like (■-,mtro'' sense ahont as ivell as any on *em, arte, u '. , now^ dot t yn.. squire .?" CHAPTER XVI. m Vl III %. V DEFINITION OF A GFNTLKMAN. On our arrival at Boston, we drove to the Tremont house, which is not only one of the first of its kind in the United States, but decidedly one of the best in the world. As our time was limited, we proceeded, as soon as we could, to visit the several objects of interest in the city and its neighbor- hood, and among the rest Bunkcr'H hill, MJicrti, Mr. flb'ck observed, "the British got a taste of what tliey afterwiird got a bolly-full." The hill was surmounted by nn inilin- ished monument, which, he riiIiI, it was iiitended shnnld ex- ceed in height the nionumeiit in \\\\\ r|(}' (i(' hniidnn, as the Yankees Avent a head of the Knglisii in ever} thing. &9.5Ei Bgppi"' DEFINITION OF A CFNTLKMAN. 191 As his fatlier had been present at the battle, it was natu- ral the clockmaker should feel a pride in it ; for, by prov- ing our army to be both mortal and fallible, it had a great effect on the subsequent events of the war. In his exulta- tion, however, he seemed to forget that he was 'alking to a British subject, who, if he now had any feeling on tlie subject, could only have wished that the prudence of the general had equnlly the bravery of the king's troops. As Bunker's hill was the scene of a victory won by British soldiers under the most difficult and trying circumstances, I was pleased to see the erection of this monument, as it is a tribute to their valor which they have justly merited. Why the Americans should have thought of putting it there, T am at a loss to know, when there are many other places where their gallantry was not only equally con- spicuous, but crowned with signal success. In this case, however, they have not merely selected a spot where they were defeated, but one which is, perhaps, more remarkable than any other on this continent for that indomitable spirit and reckless courage that distinguishes the English. On an examination of the ground it would appear that a slight detour would have enabled the troops to have routed the rebel army with great ease and but little loss, and at tlie same time effectually to have cut off their retreat. In- stead of adopting this obvious mode of attack, the troops Mere ordered to charge up the steep ascent of this hilh il|mn Mil enemy sennely protected by their entrenchments, a service wliich tlicv performed under a most murderous lire, which, from the nature of the ground, they were una- bh^ to return with any effect. This successful effort is as deserving of commendation as the conduct of the officer in W§: iiiii ■'■•III I I!. :;;./' liilfill ' s. r:p pp« 192 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 1 1 T ll 1 9 1 i i!' I. command is of reprehension, in thus wantonly sacrificing his men, out of mere bravado, in the attainment of an ob- ject wliich could be followed by none of the usual conse- quences f)f a victory. A monument to perpetuate the rec- ollection of this gallant feat of those intrej)id men, by whomsoever erected, is a most desirable thing, and it is gratifying to record that means were not long wanting to complete it in the handsome style in which it was begun. On our return to the hotel, as we passed the bar, Mr. Slick, according to his usual custom, stopped to take some refreshment, and when he joined me again, he said : *' Squire, do you know Peter Barr to Quaco, where we stopped ono night ? Well, he is Barr by name and bar by natur', for he is the waiter to a most excellent one, the Reneficacious house. I reckon he is the most gentleman- like man in all New Brunswick. He smfainAy is a pol- ished man, that ; his manners are about the best I ever fell in with. It does one good to see him enter a room, he does it S3 pretty ; in fact, I call him as near about a finished gen- tleman as I know on ; don't you, now V I said, " I had seen the person he alluded to, but it was not customary to call servants finished gentlemen, and that I had never heard the term applied in that manner before; that he was no doubt a very attentive and civil waiter, and I believe an honest and ercellent servant, but that finished manners referred to a very different state of society from that of the attendants on a bar-room." " Ah," said he, " now there peeps out the pride of the Englishman, and the efi'ect of your /political institutions. Now, with us, we are all equal, and in course the polish extends very considerable thro' all the different grades of ¥: DEFINITION OP A GENTLEMAN. 193 society, especially among them that live on the sea- board." " How," said I, " can you have different grades if you are all equal ? 1 do not exactly comprehend that." — " No," said he, " the fact ts you do not understand us. Now, take my grade ; it's what you call a clock-pedlar in the scorny way you British talk of things, merely because my trade extends over the whole country ; but take my grade (I won't speak of myself, because ' praise to the face is open disgrace'). Well, I estimate they are as gentlemanlike men as you will find in the world, and the best dressed too, for we all wear finer cloth in a giueral way than the British do, and our plunder is commonly more costly than theirn : this arises, you see, from our bein' on a footin' with princes and nobles, and received at all foreign courts as natur's noblemen, free and enlightened citizens of the great- est empire on the face of the airth. Now, I could go where despisable colonists couldn't go. If I went to France I should go to our embassador and say, ' Embassador, I 've come to see the ins and outs of Paris; and a nasty, dirty, tav/dry place it is ; it ain't to be named on the same day with Philadelphia, Nev/ York, or any of our first shop-cit- ies ; but as I fun here, 1 'd like to see some o' their big- bugs : show us their king ; he kept school once to our coun- try, but we kinder tiiought he didn't speak ae good French as the New Orleans folks ; I wonder if he has improved any.' Well, he'd take me and introduce me to the palace without any more to do about it, and king and me would be as thick a.s two thieves, a-talkin' over his old scholars, frog- soup, and what not of the ups and downs of refugee life. Embassador darsn't refuse 7fie, or we'd recall him for not mi '■■';;■ ''■ft *i;' m m : ill 11 mi- ■ ■•,r.' ;il «i UM I ■■(■ ■' : m 194 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. rp ■■.'■• -f if it Ik 1::^ siipportin' ihe honor of tlie nation. Ktns^ darsn't refns,* /tim, or we'd go to war with liim for insultin' the Union - fact, I assure you. Creation ! If he was to dare to refuse, he 'd see our hair rise like a fightin'-cat's back. We wonld't pine and whine about it as the English do at gittin' their flag insulted by the French and us great folks, and then show their spunk on thenri outlandish petticoated Chinese, like a coward that first refuses a challenge, and then comes home and licks his wife to prove he ain't afeerd ; no, not we indeed: we'd declare perpetual non-intercourse with France, as the only dignified course, and they might keep their silks and champagne for them as wants them ; we can manufacture both of them as good as they can. Now this gives us a great advantage over the Tn!\fives of Europe, and makes it work so that any man of my grade (I don't speak of the upper-crust folks, because them that eat their pork and greens with silver forks are the same all the world over; all they have to larn is how to spend their money ginteely ; but of my class, that has to larn fust how to make it, and then how to keep it) is ginerally allowed to be as much of a gentleman as you'll see in any rank in Europe, partiki- larly when he sets out to do the thing in best style. Of course, when people are at their work they must have their workin' dress on ; but when they ondertake to put on their bettermost clothes and go the whole figur', I want to know wh^'-e. you'll see a better drest man than one of my craft, take him by and large, from his hat clean away down to his pump-shoes; or a man more ready when his dander is up to take offence at nothin' a'most, and fight, or go to a first-rate hotel and pay five dollars a bottle for his wine. Country folks will be country folks, and can 't be expected nmO^ DEFINITIONS OP A GENTLEMAN. 19S ]'p|;:': to be otliorwise, seoin' that they don't go out of the 1 nsh, mid can't know what thoy don't see; but a tradin' man, that roams from one eend of the states to t'other eend of the provinces, a-carryin' his own wares in his own wagon, and a-vendin' of 'em himself from house to house, becomes a polished man in spite of his teeth, and larns to despise spittin' on carpets afore company, or whitlin' his nails with a penknife, as much as count this or lord that. Tiiere is a nateral dignity about them, arising from the dignity of freedom. So there is about the Ingians : niin- ister used to say, that there was an ease and elegance of motion about an Indian, that nothin' could givo a white man but constant intercourse with the best society, and was seldom equalled and never surpassed even at courts. Tlie crittur is onconstrained. They go on the nil- ailmirari system, he used to say (for, poor old man, he was always introducin' neck-and-crop some fag-eend of a Latin line or another, his head was chock-full and runnin' over with larnin'). The meanin' of that is, they don't go starin' and gapin' about the streets with their eyes and mouths wide open, like musketeer-hawks, as if they never seed any- thing afore. Now, that's the way with us. No man ever heerd me praise anything out of my own country that took the shine off of anything we had. "I've often heerd the ladies say to England, 'Why, Mr. Slick, nothin' seems to astonish you here : you don't seem to praise anything; you have no curosity about you. What do you think of that noble structur', St. Paul's church?' — ' Pretty well,' said I, jist as if we had a thousand such; 'but it's gloomy and not so big as I expected.' — ' But Westminster abbey,' says they, • don't ttiat surprise M»i|!/ij'.' m. iii:'?lffli« ll a.H ii fciijiiiiP |'.Hff!li'W| 'ijiill'ifill'ilii ■n a^ .>^ * "^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 12.5 1.1 KS 1^ 112.2 ^ US, mil 2.0 1.25 1.4 pm. # /) >^. .> ey ^ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^< LV> d ^^ '\ :\ \ ^_ c»^ 23 WeST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 I'- 196 BAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. Ill i!ir I*. I II w ■ l'4' J 11111 . iit'^ you ? for you have no abbeys in America, and we think that must appear to you very wonderful.' — ' Well,* says I, quite cool, like a corneysewer, ' it 's costly, but onconveni- ent, for a large congregation. The finish is rather grim- crack, and so is its farnitur', and them old tattered banners in the chapel look for all the world li^ie old rags we tie to sticks m the cornfields to Slickville to frighten away the crows. They ain't fit for a meetin'-house like that are; and if they must have flags hung up in it, as we do them we took from your frigates, in a ballroom, they might as well have new ones.' — 'Oh!' says they, 'did you ever? Then,' says they, ' the delightful parks round the noble- men's seats, ain't they very beautiful 1 you must be aston- ished at then\, we think. Were you not struck on entering them with ' ' Struck !' says I ; ' oh, yes ! and most de- lightfully skeered, too. I am a narvous man, and some- times sing out afore I am hit. Few people is so skittish and shy so bad as I do. Struck, indeed ! No, miss, I warn't struck. I 'd like to see the best lord that ever trod in shoeleather strike me for enterin' his park, or so much even as to lay the weight of his finger on me. I *d soon lat him know there was a warrant out arter him. Heavens and airth ! I 'd chaw him right up like mincemeat, titles, stars, garters, and all. I 'd knock him to the north eend of creation in less time than a cat takes to lick her paw. Struck ! why the very thorts of it sets my blood all in a gallopin' boih I don't think he'd take the trouble to do it a second time ; for I 'd make him cut dirt as if he heerd a whole team of thunderbolts arter him. Me struck, and him alive to brag of it ! Well, I sorter guess not. No one never struck mo, miss, since I first sot foot in England, nor DEFINITION OP A GENTLEMAN. 197 for many a long day afore nother. That pleasure is to come yet. Strikin' a stranger ain't thort friendly with us, and I didn't think it was the fashion here.' — 'Why, Mr. Slick,' says they, * han't you got that word " struck" in the states ? it means astonished, strongly aflfected.' — ' Oh, yes !' says I, ' to be sure, " struck up all of a heap ;" it 's common when used in j'inin* hand that way, but never stands alone except for a blow.' The truth is, I know'd well enough what she meant when she said it, but I answered that way jist to give her a high idea of my courage ; for, I suppose, she thought honor was only found in Europe, and mainly among officers, thf^ bulk of whose business is to fight when they can't help it. 'Then,' says I, 'to answer your ques- tion, miss, I have seed a nateral park,' says I, ' to home, stretchin' clean away across from the Atlantic right slap thro' to the Pacific ocean, all filled with deer, and so big, these English parks of dwarf-trees look like a second growth of sprouts on the edge of a potato-diggin' in a new clearin', or a shelter-grove in a pastur'. Then,' says I, ' your lakes is about as big as our duck-ponds, and your rivers tho bigness of a sizeable creek when there is no freshets.' — ' But,' says they, ' we know natur' is on a large scale in America, and your rivers and trees exceed in mag- nitude anything of the kind in Europe ; but look at the beautiful English landscape, the rich verdure, the high cul- tivation, the lawns, the shrubberies, the meadows, and the groves, so interspersed as to produce the greatest and best effect.' — ' If the sun ever shined on it,' said I, ' it would be scrumptious enough, I do suppose ; but it 's heavy, melan- choly, and dull; it wants light in the landscape, and you han't water to give it, nor sun nother.' — ' We are sorry,' 198 SAM SLICK'S SAIINGS AND DOINGS. 1 \\ says they, 'England lias notliin' to please you.' — 'Haven't you tho' ?' says I, for it, don't do to run down everything either, especially to the ladies — so, says I, 'Haven't you tho' ? Oh !' says I, ' the ladies, I must say, are quite equal to ourn.' It was a whapper that, tho', but they did n't know no better ; and who has a better right to lie than them that pays taxes? It wouldn't be patriotic to say they were superior, and not perlite nor true, nother, to say inferior, but ' they are equal,' says I, ' that 's a fact ; and that 's no poor compliment, I can tell you, for our ladies lick ! — but I say nothin*.' ** Now, that 's what I call about right, squire. To go wanderin* and starin' about and admirin' of everything, shows a man has nothin' to hoine worth braggin' of or boastin' about, or hasn't seed nothin' of the world. It would make Europeans vain, and, cuss them, they are vain enough and proud enough already, especially the English ; besides, it tain't good breedin', and ain't patriotic. I like to sustain the national character abroad, and give foreigners a proper idea of our enlightenment and freedom. Bein' Btumpt is a sure mark of a fool. The only folks among us that's ever nonplushed, is them just caught in the woods, and some o' them, I will say, are as ignorant as a Britisher; but then it's only them as never seed nothin' but bears and Ingians. I mind once a gall we hired as a house-help. They was agued out of the West was her family, and them that the Ingians left the fever was doin' for ; so they cut and runs, and come to Slickville. Well, she stared and pawed at everything a'most, and actilly was the most on- genteelest ciittur ever was bvoughter* out from among the rattlesnakes. Father axed her one day at dinner to hand i i . DEFINITION OP A GENTLEMAN. 199 him some bread. ' Did yau baul for anything', old man V says she, • or was it the old woman that yelled ? for yau and Granny Slick speak so much alike, I can 'it tell, unless I see your jaus a-movin', which it is.' — • I asked for some bread,' says father. Well, what does she do but ups with the head of the loaf, and, stretchin' out her arms, takes aim and lets fly right at him; and, if he hadn't a-been pretty ixctire in fendin' off, it would have hit him right in the face, and takin' his nose off so clean he wouldn't have missed it till he went to blow it. ♦ Why, Suckey,' says he, • what on airth do you mean by that are ! why don't you hand it V — * Hand it i' said she ; ' I never heerd of such a way as that. Father always says pitch, and when we want a thing, we always shy it. How onder the sun could yau onload a cart of bricks, if yau did n't pitch and catch ? why, it would take a month of Sundays. If people always carried everything that everybody wanted, they might be a-carryin' to all etarnity. Didn't I pitch the loaf fair for yaur breadbasket ? where the plague would yau have it, eh V Then she was always axin' what a thing cost. • Is that solid silver V said she, a-lookin' at one of our spoouo. ' To be sure,' said I, ' rael genwcine, and worth five dollars.* — 'Well, I want to know,' said she; *yau don't. Half a dollar would buy a spoon* and four dollars and a half two lambs. Why, yaur silver spoons are a rael airthquake; what a power of money they do swaller up !* Then she got hold of tlie gilt pictur'-frame I had minister's likeness in. 'Dear, dear,' said she, 'how grand ! Now, is that all solid gold and no bam ] why, it would buy Deacon Hiram Grumble's overshot sawmill at little big Snipe swamp; it would, I vow, timber-ranges and all. Why, it would be sx ymm 11 pi 200 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. forten to a poor gall like me. I 'd gin all I have in the world for that, or ever shall have ; but, then, all I have is a f'catl)er-bcd, a side-saddle, a yearlin'-colt, and a riflo. Now, declare solemn — that 's a good soul, Sam — is that all solid, clear gold, without cheatin', or only pinchback, like the ear- rings that stingy beast. Pardon Brag, gave Sister Ambro- sia when he was snuffin' ashes with her afore they was married V — ' Why, you foolish crittur, no,' said I, * it ain't. Whoever heerd tell of a gold frame.' — ' Ay, ay, my young coon,' said she, 'or a silver-spoon either. I'll take my davy it 's only pewter, and good enough, too. I guessed yau only said so to appear grand.' She know'd no better, poor crittur^ for she was raised to the swamps to the West among the owls and catamounts, and warn't much more nor half baked at no time nother. We couldn't make nothin' of her, her independence was so great, and her ways so countrified. When she come, she had but one frock, and when she washed it at night, she laid a-bed all day for it to dry ; she did, upon my soul !' •' One time we had a tea-squall to our house, and Susan handed about the tea. Well, she got thro* this well enough ; but what does she do arterward but goes round among the company with the sugar-bowl in one hand, and the cream-jug i)i the other, sayin', • How are yau oflF, yau stranger with the factory-coat, for sugar V and * Old woman with the yaller petticoat, shall I milk yau V and so on. When she came to me I couldn't hold in no longer, and I bust out a-larfin. ' Kiss my foot, will you,' said she, * Mr. Sam ? and mind what I tell yau, if yau go for to cut any of yaur high shines with me, I '11 fetch yau a kick in yaur western eend that will give yau the dry gripes for a week. wJ!?^ DEFINITION OP A GENTLEMAN. 201 eek, dod drot my old slices if I do n't, for yau are a bigger fool than I took yau to be.' She felt equal to any of the com- pany, and 80 she was, /politically speaking, and notliin* darnted her. It tan't more nor half convenient always, but it 's the effect of our glc lious institutions. She felt con- scious she might be the mother of a president of our great nation, and it infused a spirit in her above her grade. In fact, no one, male or female, can forget that fact — that their child mought be an Albert Gotha for eight years. As for me," he said. " I never was abashed before any man since I was knee high to a goose ; I hope I may be skinned if I was. I do actilly believe, if your queen was to ax me to dine with her, I should feel no more taken aback nor if it was Phoebe Hopewell. The fixin's of the table mought be a little grain different from what I had ever heem on, seein' that she is so much richer than I be ; and, havin' lords to wait behind cheers at dinner would seem, at first, strange, I do suppose, but I should jist cut my eye round like wink, and see how others did, like a well-bred man, and then right and left and down the middle, as they did, as onconsarned as if I had been used to it all my life. Afore you go, I '11 p'int out to you some smart men in the same grade as myself, travelHn' clock-venders, or in the tin line, who are men of great refinement in dress, and consid- erable taste in hossflesh, and parfect gentlemen, who pride themselves on bavin' the handsomest gall, the best trottin' beast, and the dearest coats in the city, and would n't let no man say * boo* to them for nothin'. Let a British duke ax one o* them to a party without fust callin' and gittin' in- troduced, as one of them did to another citizen of ourn not long ago, and sec if he wouldn't make him a caution to be- 9 202 8AM SUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. hold. I 'd trouble an old gouty lord to go a-hobblin' up- gtairs. afore 'em, a purpose to keep 'em back, and mortify 'em, 'cause they were Americans. I guess they 'd give him a lift with the tip eend of their toe that would help him to mend his pace, that 's all. What your idea of a gentleman is, I do n't know, but, I suppose, nothin' onder an airl is one in your eyes ; but my idea of a gentleman is jist this : one who is rich enough, willin' enough, and knowin' enough, when the thing has to be done in firstrate style, to go the full figur', and to do the thing ginteel. That 's what I call a gentleman." CHAPTER XVII. U* ;o im LOOKING UP. The clockmaker had an extensive and accurate knowl- edge of human nature. The wandering life he had led, and the nature of his business, which sent him into every man's house, aflfbrded him a favorable opportunity of studying character, a knowledge of which was the foundation of his success in life. Like most clever men, however, he prided himself less upon what he did, than what he did not, know, and was more ambitious of being considered a man of fash- ionable manners, than a skilful mechanic, an expert sales- man, or a shrewd, intelligent man. It was one of his weak points, and the more remarkable in him, for it was natural to suppose that his quick perception of the ridiculous, and his power of humor, would have enabled him to see the ab LOOKING UP. 203 surdity of such ft pretension quicker than most men. Ad- mitting the truth of his a^ertion, that all men, women, and children, are open to the influence of his universal and in- fallible soft-sawder, I have no doubt that a dose of it skil- fully applied to him on this point, would have proved the accuracy of the remark, by showing that he was no more exempt from its operation than the thousands of dupes whose caution he had disarmed, and whose favor he had won by it himself. *• Yes, squire," he continued, " it 's a great advantage we possess, is manners. It enables us to visit the log-huts of the down-east settler, and the palace of the nobles, on free and easy tarms, to peddle in the one, and do first chop in the other. I rather pride myself on my manners, for I have seed more of the world than most men. That, you see, has provided me with small-talk for the women, and you might as well be without small change in tradin* as small-talk in courtin* the galls. There is nothin' a'most pleases womenkind like hearin' men talk glib to them, un- less it be to hear the sound of their own tongues. Then, I I'arnt psalmody to singin'-school, and havin* naturally a good voice, can do base to the nines, and sing complete. Beautiful tunes some o' them meetin'-house ones are, too. There is old Russia ; now that 's one you never get tired of; and Washington's March is another, and so is Jim Crow Zionized. Lookin* on the same music-book with the ladies brings heads together, and if you don't put your hands on their shoulder or their waists, you can't see straight, or stand steady to read. Many a match has been made afore now in the night singin'-schools. There is Avliere I got my first lesson in manners, tho' father was al- ,;:,... I ii!ii» 204 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ways a-preaching up of manners to me, too. Father, you know, was one of the heroes of 'Bunker's hill. He was a- snrgeant at that gloiious battle, and arterward rose iu Blickville to be a kurnel in the militia. He had quite a military air about him, had the old man, and was as straight as a poker at seventy, and carried his head as erect as the cap of a gate-post. He always used to say, •March,' 'halt,' 'right-wheel,' 'left-wheel,' 'quick-step/ and so on, to his bosses, to the last. He used to say you could always tell a military man by his walk, his talk, and his manners. In his walk he was stately, for it looked hero-like ; in his talk he swore a few, for it was the way of the camp ; and, in his manners, he was humble servant to the ladies, and haughty to the men, because one you fought for and the other you fought with. Poor old man, he was always a-dingin' this lesson into my ears : ' Alwayslook up, Sam ; look up in mcnners, and look up in politics. In man- ners,' said he, ' a man that looks down ain't safe at all. It's a sure sign of roguery and treachery. Such a crittur will either lie, cheat, or steal, or do some bad thing or another, you may depend. Never trust a man that do n't hold up his head and look you in the face ; such a crittur knows his heart is bad, and is afeerd you see into it thro' them are winders, his eyes. Have nothin' to do with him on no account. Look at Lawyer Sly ware ; well, he is the most pious law- yer and the most extoitionate man in all Slickville. You'd think butter wouldn't melt in that feller's mouth, and yet, when he is onder the protection of the court, there ain't anything too bad for him to lay his tongue to in abusin' folks, and where money is consarned, he is mean and on- reasonable. Some folks say his piety is jist a cloak, and iii it LOOKING UP. 206 nothin' more, to hide his claws; how that is, I won't say; but this I know, he looks down, and looks sideways, or any way but right up like a man at you full in the face, and such corn-crackers as that, let them be who they may, arn't over safe in the dark, or in the woods, I know. You recollect old Southey Crowe, do n't you ? Well, I '11 tell you a story about him. He was one of those down-lookin' skunks I was a-speakm' of, and a more endless villain, p'raps, there ain't this blessed day atween the poles than he was ; but you mustn't let on to any one about it that I said so, for he has left some children behind him that are well to do in the world, and different guess chaps from him altogether, and it would be a sin and a shame to hurt their feelin's by a revival ; but it 's true a» gospel for all that. " ' When minister was first located here to Slickville, he thought his boss was the most everlastin' eater he ever seeril, for he used to eat more nor any two bosses in all the town ; and says he to me, one day, *' Kuyrnel,*' says he, "what's good for a boss that has an onnateral appetite, do you know f " says he, " for my boss eats near a ton o* hay a-month." — " It's worms," says I ; nothin' will make a boss eat like the botts." — " Well, what 's good for botts ?" said he. " Well," says I, " cliopped boss hair in their oats ain't a bad thing, nor a little tobacco, nr)ther ; but I '11 look at him and see what it is, for I never heerd tell of a boss eatin' at that rate, at no time." Well, the next mornin' I goes out to the stable along with ministei:, to see the boss, and there had fallen a little chance of snow in the night, and there was the tracks of a man quite plain, where he had carried off hay, and the seed and dust of the clover was scattered all about after him. "Minister," says I, "there's m 206 SAM SLICK'S SAYINOS AND DOINGS. « II m li the botta, sure enough ; they have carried off the hay by wholesale ; hut they 've took it afore the hoss got it, tho', and no mistake : look at them are tracks." — " Dear, dear," said he, " only to think of the wickedness of this world ; who on airth could that be that was^ so vile V* — '* Southey Crowe," said I* "I'll put my head agin a cent it's him; for in a gineral way, I suspect them rascals that look down always. These are dark nights now, T guess, for it 's in the old of the moon, and jist the time for rogues to be np and doin'. I '11 keep watch for you to-night, and see who he is. I '11 catch him, the villain — see if I don't."—" Well, don't use your sword, nor your pistols nother, kuymel,'^ said he; •• don't apprehend him, or slay him, or hurt him, but jist ad- monish ; for I 'd rather lose hay, hoss, and all, than not to forgive the poor sinner, and reclaim him. Oh how my heart rejoices over a repentin' sinner !" — *• Minister," says I — for I felt my pride touched at his talkin' that way of an officer's sword, as if it was nothin' but a constable's thief- sticker, and had half a mind to let the hay go to old Scratch, for all me — " Minister," said I, in a dignified manner to him, *' my sword, sir, has been drawed in my country's cause, and it shall never be disgraced in a meaner one. It is consecrated to everlastin' fame, and not to be defiled by the crop and gizzard of a scoundrel." Well, at night, I takes my lantern, the same I had to dress by in the wars, and goes and off shoes, and hides away in a vacant hoss- stall near the door ; and I had hardly got all snugged away in the hoss-litter, and done swearin' at the parfume of it (for it ain't pretty to sleep in), when, who should come in but Southey Crowe. Well, he ups into the loft in little less than half no time, and pitches down a considerable of a LOOKING UP. 207 lock of hay, and then ties it up in a bundle fit for carriage, and slips it over his shoulder like a knapsack, ao as to have his hands free to balanco with in runnin', and to help him climb the fences. Well, as soon as he was re»dy he goes to the door and opens it ; but his bundle was a little grain too wide, and stuck a bit ; and jist then, I out candle, and sets fire to his load in several places. As soon as he sees the light, he gives a jerk, forces the bundle thro' the door- way, and runs like Old Nick himself, as fast as he could cut dirt, for dear life, and fancyin' there was some one a-pur- suin' of hiin ; he never stopped to look behind him, but jist streaked it off like a greased thunderbolt. At last the poor critter was singed in airnest, and 'most suffocated, and he yelled and screamed 'most awful ; he was a caution to hear ; and the faster he ran, the faster the flame burned, till at last the cord give way, and down fell the burnin* bundle. A few days arterward he came to minister, and confessed that he was the man, and said Heaven had sent down fire to burn the hay on him, as a warnin' to him of the punish- ment to come for robbin' a minister. Well, what does min- ister do, the old goose, but ups and tells him human means was used, as it was my lantern. He said he didn't want to encourage superstition by pious frauds, and I don't know what all. It made me hoppin* mad to see him act so like an old fool. Well, what was the consequence of all this nonsense 1 Why, Southey got over his fright, seein' the devil had no hand in it, and went right at stealin' agin. He was one of them fellers that always look down, was Southey. Cuss 'em ! there is no trnstin' any of them. " Then he used to say, ' Always look up in politict, Sam,' Now we have two kinds of politicians, the Jederal- ' fj I ni 208 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINQS. 11^ ■ 1^^ K M'i tttfs and the democrats. The federalists look up, and arc for a vigonms exccutiv<', for rt'^pubrjau inslitiitiuns such ns Washington left us, for the state-tax, fc- religion, jind for enforciii' law and order — what you may call consaivitivcs, p'raps ; and they appeal to men of sense, and judgment, .'ind property ; to the humane, liberal, and enlightened upper claeses; and they want to see the reins of government in the hands of such folks, because then we have some security things will be well administered. Then we have the demo- crats, fellers that look down ; who try to set the poor agin the rich ; who talk of our best men with contempt, and hold *em up as enemies to their country ; who say the federalists are aristocrats, tyrants, and despots, and appeal to the preju- dices and passions of the ignorant, and try to inflame them ; who use the word reform as a catchword to weaken tha handr; of the government, to make eveiything elective, and to take all pov/er of good from the venerable senate (whose voice they call an aristocratic whisper), under pretence of restraining their power for evil. These are mob pol 'ticians. They first incite and discontent the mob, and then say the •people must have a change of officers ; and when they get into office, thoy sacrifice everybody and everything to keep in. This comes o* lookin* down. " ' These party-leaders call the mob their tail, and they know the use of a tail too, as well as Neighbor Dearborne's rats did. Neighbor Dearborne used to wonder how it was all his casks of molasses had jist five inches drawed off, exactly and no more, out of each cask. His store was well locked, and well barred, and fastened up all tight and snug every day, and he was fairly stumped to know how the thieves got in, and why they stole no more than jist five LOOKING UP. 209 inches out of each ; so what does he Jo but goes and gets up on the roof of the store, and watches through the sky- light. Well, he watched and watched for ever so long, all to no purpose, and he was jist about givin' it up as a bad jou, when he thought he seed somethin' a-movin', and he looked, and what do you think he did see? Why, a few great, big, overgrowed rats conie crawlin' along the tops of the casks, and they jist dipped theii tails thro' the bangs unto the 'lasses, and then turned to and licked 'em ofif clean. They did, upon my soul ! -' * This is jist the way in politics. Democrat or liberal leaders make the same use of their followers, their tail. They make use of them to get a dip info the good things^ hut they lick all up so clean them^elvf, nothirC was ever seen to stick to the tail. See, too, what a condition religion is got into among these down-lookin' gentry. The Bible has got turned out of the common schools all thro* Slickville, because it offends the scruples of them who never read it, and don't know what it contains. To be religious is out of fashion now ; it ain't liberal. It ain't enough with these demagogue? to let every man worship his own way, bfit you must lock up the Bible from scho6l^, for fear it will tea<"h little chihlrcn to be bigots. Now, Sam, minister would say, " See here : these same critturs, all over the world, belie their own politics in their own conduct." Let one of our democrat-movement men go to England, or any place where there are birds of the same feather, and ask credit for goods, and take a certificate of character from the patriots, demagogues, and devils to home, and Me what his reception will be. — *• Sorry, sir, but have more orders than \ve can execrvi) ; don't know these people that have sart^- ' ' ^ ' r ' ISiiil ,:;:^lf!iitli!iiii I ■-|!;.' M m I 'mII ii ' islil iiiH it liiltl'ilJi 210 SAM SUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. HI I! if fied your character ; may be very good men, but don't know them. Busy, sir — good inorniu'." But let a man /ooA m/>, and take a recommendation from the first pot-hooks on the crane — from the governor and selectmen, and the judges and minister, and me, the honorable Colonel Slick, com- mander-in-chief of the military forces (a name well known in military circles), and see what they '11 say : '* Ah ! this damned Yankee" (they will b^rear a few, for they are as cross as a bear with a sore head since the lickin' we give them last war), '* he comes well sartified, most respectable testimonies — all upper-crust folks — high characters, all. We can trust him — he'll do. T'other feller's papers were rather suspicious : this one's will pass muster." And yet, Sam, our democrat-liberals tell the poor ignorant voters that these men, whose sartijicates will pass all the world over, all the same as if they was onder oath, ain't to be trusted in politics at home. Fie on them ! they know bet- ter, and I wish with all my heart they were shipped clean out o' the state down to Nova Scotia, or some such outland- ish place. *■ *" I fixed one feller's flint that came a-canvassin' the other day for a democrat candidate, most properly. Says he, "jKMyrnel," says he, "did you hear the news? that infarnal scoundrel Coke, the mayor, is nominated for governor ; he is a cussed federalist, that ; he is no friend to his country. I wouldn't vote for him for a hog- reeve." a i u Upright magistrate, warn't he ?" says I. — " Why, yes, to give the devil his due, I must say he was." •• « » Brings his family up well, don't he ?"— " Well enough." 11 : W LOOKING UP. 211 " ' " Good neighbor, ain't he ?" — " Why, yes ; but what's that to do with it ? he ain't no friend to his country!'' " ' " Not a bad landlord, is he ? I never heerd of his dis- tressln' his tenants, did you?" — "Why, no, I can't say I did ; but what's all that when it's fried ?" *" ♦' A good deal of money passed thro' his hands ; did you e\er hear of any complaints?" — "I made no inquiries. I dare say, it there was, he hushed them up." " * " A great friend to intarnal improvements, ain't he — railroads and them sort of things ?" — " And well he may be ; he owns a good deal of land in the state, and it will benefit it — the devil thank him !" " ' " Sees a good deal of company to his house ; was you ever there?" — "Why no," says he, "your federalists are too proud for that ; but I would n't go if he was to ask me ; I despise him, for he is no friend to his country." " ' "Ah !" says I, " the cat's out of the bag now. This is mahogany patriotism ; but who is your candidate?" — "Well, he is no aristocrat, no federalist, no tyrant, but a rael right- down reformer and democrat. He is a friend to his country and no mistake. It's Gabriel Hedgeliog." " ' " Him," said I, " that there was so much talk about cheatin' folks in his weights ?" — " That was never proved," said he ; " let them prove that." " • " Exactly," says I, " your objection to Coke is that you never got so far as his front door yet; and mine to Gabriel Hedgehog, that I wouldn't trust him inside of mine at no rate. The federalist, it appears, is an upright, honorable, kind, and benevolent man, discharging all his public and private duties like a good man and a good member of soci- ety. You say he is a friend to intarnal improvement be- lli I ^^ ' iii 'Sill !„ i'il'i ''''""'" III! m I li illl ■I J!:ll iiSI ^i,i-'i iiiiii !/i 212 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. Il'i i ». 1 ■m: i UM^ i . '^- ,'i U i ! ■ cause he owns much land ; for the same reason, if for no hif^her or better one, he will be a friend to his country. He has got sometlihC to fight for ^ that chap, besides his pay as a, memher and his share of the plunder. I always look up in politics. Them are the sort of men to govern us. Your man's honesty is rather doubtful, to say the least of it, and you and him want to level the mayor, and all others above you, down to your own level, do you ? Now, I don't want to cut no one down, but to raise up (we had cuttin* down enough, gracious knows, at Bunker's hill. Mud creek, and Peach orchard, in cuttin' down the British). Now, I know it's easier to cut others down than to raise yourselves, but it 't ain't so honorable. Do you and Hedgehog turn to and earn the same reputation the mayor has, and as soon as you have, and are so much respected and beloved as he is, I'll vote for either or both of you, for my maxim always is to look up in politics. •""Now," says I, "friend — attention! eyes right — left shoulders forward — march !" and I walked him out of the house in double quick time ; I did by gum ! Yes, Sam, always look up — look up in manners, and look up in politics* " THE OLD MINISTER. 218 Mm I' [ W CHAPTER XVIII. THE OLD MINISTER. ir" i As we approached SHckville, the native town of the clockmaker, he began to manifest great impatience and an extraordinary degree of excitement. He urged on old Clay to the top of his speed, who, notwithstanding all the care bestowed upon him, and the occasional aid of a steamboat whenever there was one running in the direction of our route, looked much thinner for this prodigious journey than when we left Halifax. " Come, old Teetotal," said he, *' you are a-goin' home now, and no mistake. Hold up your old oatmill, and see if you can snuff the stable at min- ister's, if the smell of these inion-fields don't pyson your nose. Show the folks you ain't forgot how to go. The weather, squire, you see, has been considerable juicy here lately, and to judge by the mud some smart grists of rain has fell, which has made the roads soapy and violent slip- pery ; but if he can't trot he can slide, you'll find, and if he can't slide he can skate, and if he breaks thro' he can swim ; but he can go somehow or another, or somehow else. He is all sorts of a boss, and the best live one that ever cut dirt this side of the big pond, or t'other side other; and if any man will show me a boss that can keep it up as he has done in the wild wicked trot, clean away from Kent's lodge in Nova Scotia, to SHckville, Conne'ticut, and ccnd it with biich a |jacc as that arp» I '11 give him old Clay for nothin', n\ vn" " iilil' ill lii ' Up m Klft ' > 214 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. iy '< as a Rpnn for him. Go it, you old coon, you — go it! and make tracks like dry dust in a thunder-storn). There, now, that's it, I f^uess — liit or miss, riglit or wrong, tit or no tit, that's tho tntur ! O squire, he is a hoss, is old Clay, every inch of him ? Start him agin for five hundred miles, and you'll find he is jist the hoy that ran do it. He'd make as short work of it as a whole hattalion does of a pint of whis- key at a gineral trainin'. If you want to see another beast like him in this world, put your spectacles on, and look as sharp as you darn please, for I reckon he is too far off to see with the naked eye — at least, I never could se*) him yet." But old Clay was not permitted to retain this furious rate long ; for recognition now became so frequent between Mr. Slick and his old friends, the people of Slickville, that the last mile, as he said, "tho' the shortest one of the whole bilin', took tl.c longest to do it in by a jugfull." The reception he met with on his return to his native land was a pleasing evidence of the estimation in which he was held by those who best knew him. Nothing could exceed the kindness with which he was greeted by his countrymen. An invitation to a public dinner, presented by a deputation of the selectmen, as a token of their approbation of his " Sayings and Doings," was, hoAvever, so unexpected an honor on his part that his feelings nearly overpowered him Perhaps it was fortunate that it had that effect, for it ena- bled him to make a suitable reply, which, under any other circumstanccF, his exuberant spirits and extravagant phrase- ology would have disqualified him from doing. He said he was aware he owed this honor more to their personal regard for him than his own merits ; but, tho' he could not THE OLD MINISTER. 216 flatter himself he was entitled to so gratifying a distinction, it should certainly stimulate him to endeavor to render himself so. In our subsequent travels, he often referred to this voluntary tribute of regard and respect of his country- men in terms of great satisfaction and pride. He said there were but three days in his life that he could call " rael tip- top ones ;" one was when he was elected into the house of represenvatives, and made sure he was to be president of the United -States ; the second, when, after finding his mis- take, he ceased to be a member, and escaped out of the menagerie ; and the third, when he found himself thus pub- licly honored in his native land. The reception he everywhere met with was most kind and flattering; but Mr. Hopewell, the ex-minister of the parish, embraced him with all the warmth and affection of a father. He pressed him most cordially and affectionately to his bosom, called him his good friend, his kind-hearted boy, his dear and dutiful son. They were both affected to tears. • He thanked him for having brought me to his house, to which he welcomed me in the most hospitable manner, and did me the favor to say that he had looked with much pleasure to this opportunity of making my acquaintance. The appearance of this venerable old man was most striking. In stature he exceeded the ordinary standard, and though not corpulent, he was sufficiently stout to pre- vent an air of awkwardness attaching to his height. Not- withstanding his very great age, his voice was firm, and his gait erect. His hair was of the most snowy whiteness; and his countenance, though furrowed with age and care, gave evidence of great intelligence and extraordinary be- nevolence. His manner, though somewhat formal, like that I l!i! ^f illl:: i!i! i i nil pi! 216 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINOS. of a gentleman of the old school, was remarkably kind and prepossessing, and the general effect of his bearing was well calculated to command respect and conciliate affection. Those persons who have described the Yankees as a cold, designing, unimpassioned people, know but little of them or their domestic circles. To form a correct opinion of a people, it is necessary to see them at home, to witness their family reunions, the social intercourse of friends, and, to use Mr. Slick's favorite phrase, " to be behind the scenes." Whoever has been so favored as to be admitted on these intimate terms in New England, has always come away most favorably impressed with what he has seen, and has learned that in the thousand happy homes that are there, there are many, very many, thousands of kind, and good, and affectionate liearts in them, to make them so. The temperature of Mr. Slick's mind was warm, and his spirits buoyant ; and, therefore, though overcome for a time by various emotions, on the present occasion, his natural gay- ety soon returned, and the appearance of Mr. Hopewell's sister, a maiden lady '• of a certain age," who resided with him and superintended his household, afforded him an opportunity of indemnifying himself. " Is that Aunt Hetty, sir f said he, addressing himself to *' the minister" a\ ith much gravity. " Why, yes, Sam, to be sure it is. Is she so much altered that you do not know her? Ah, me ! we are both altered — both older than we were, and sadder too, Sam, since you left us." — "Altered? I guess she is," said Mr. Slick ; " I would n't a-knowed her nowhere. Why, Aunt Hetty ! how do you do ? What on nirth have you done with yourself to look so young? Why, you look ten years younger.'' — "Well, if that don't pass! THE OLD MINISTER. 217 Woll, you ain't altered, then, Sam," said she, shaking him heartily by the hand, " not one mite or morsel ; you are jist as full of nonsense as ever; do behave now, that's a good feller." — " Ah," he continued, '• I wish I could alter as you do, and that are rosebush of yourn onder the parlor winder; both on you bloom afresh every month. Lord, ,' I could only manage as you do, grow younger every year, I should be as smart as a two-year-old soon." Then^ low- ering his voice, he said, " Brought you a beau, aunty ; that's the squire, there : ain't he a beauty without paint, that ? The sarvant-maid stole his stays last night ; but when he has 'em on, he ain't a bad figure, I tell you. The only thing, against your taking such a fat figure, is, that you 'd have to lace them stays every mornin' for him, and that's no joke, is it?" — ''Now, Sam,'' said she (coloring at the very idea of a gentleman's toilet), '* do behave, that's a dear ! The intire stranger will hear you, I am sure he will, and it will make me feel kinder foolish to have you runnin' on that way ; ha' done, now, that's a dear !" — " Sit your cap up for him, aunty," he said, without heeding her; " he is a Blue-nose, to be sure, but rub a silver-skinned inion on it, and it will draw out the color, and make him look like a Christian. He is as soft as dough, that chap, and your eyes are so keen they will cut right into him, like a carvin'-knife into a pumkin-pie. Lord, he'll never know he has lost his heart, till he puts his ear to it like a v ateh, and finds it's done tickin'. Give me your presarves, tho', aunty, when you marry ; your quinces, and damsons, and jellies, and what not, for you won't want them no more. Nothin* ever tastes sweet arter lips. Oh dear ! one smack o' them is worth " "Do get along," said ^Iss Hetty, 11 218 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. .1 > J k ^ 11 '.I ■ 1 "I t extricating, at last, tier hand from his, and oiFecting her escape to her brother. " What a plague you be !** It was a happy meeting ; and at dinner, Mr. Slick's sal- lies awakened many a long-forgotten smile on the face of his old friend, the minister. It is delightful to witness the effect of a young and joyous heart upon one that has be- come torpid with age, or chilled with the coldness and neglect of the world ; to see it winning it back to cheer- fulness, warming it again into animated existence, beguiling it of its load of care, until it brightens into reflecting on its surface the new and gay images that are thus thrown upon it. After the cloth was removed, the conversation accident- ally took a' more serious turn : " So you are going to Eng- land, Sam, are you V said Mr. Hopewell. " Yes, minister," replied the clockmaker, " I am a-goin' with the squire, here. S'posc you go with us. You are a gentleman at large now you got nothin' to do, and it will do you good ; it will give you a new lease of life, I am a-thinkinV The allusion to his having nothing to do was, to say the least of it, thought- less and ill-timed. ** Yes, Sam," said he, evidently much distressed, " you say truly, I have nothin' to do ; but whose fault is that? Is it mine or my parishioners"? When my flock all turned unitarians, and put anothp^ ^nan in my pul- pit, and told me they had n't no further occasion for me or my sarvices, was it the flock that wandered, or the shep- herd that slept ? It is an awful question, that, Sam, and one that must be answered some day or another, as sure as you are born. I try to make myself believe it is my fault, and I pray that it may be so considered, and that I may be accepted as a 8a*;rifice for them; for willingly would I THE OLD MINISTER. 219 lay down my life for them, the poor dehided cntturs. Then, sotnetimes, T try to think it wnrn't the fault of either me or my flock, hut the fault of them are pood-for-nothin' philoB- ophers, Jefferson, Franklin, and them new-school people, that fixed our constitution, and forgot to make Christianity the corner-stone. Oh, what an awful affliction it is for a country, when its rulers are not attached to the church of God ! If poor dear old Gineral Washington had a-had his way, it would have been different, and he told me so with tears in his eyes. ' Joshua,' says he, for him and me was very intimate — 'Joshua,' says he, 'the people ascribe all the praise of our glorious Revolution to their own valor and to me, because I am one of themselves, and are a-going to build a great city for a capital, and call it after me, "Wash- ington ; but for Hitn, Joshua,' said he, a-p'intin* up to the skies with one hand, and devoutly oncoverin' his head with the other — • but for Him who upheld us in the hour of bat- tle, and in the day of trouble — for Him, to whom all hon- or, and praise, and glory, is due, what have we done ? why, carefully excluded the power to endow Christianity from every constitution of every state in the Union. Our lan- guage is at once impious and blasphemous. We say the Lord is better able to take charge of his clergy than we are, and we have no doubt he will. Let him see to them, and we'll see to ourselves. Them that want religion can pay for it. The state wants none, for it is an incorporeal affair, without a body to be punished or a soul to be saved. Now, Joshua,' said he, ' you will live to see it, but I won't — for I feel as if they was a-goin' to make an idol of me, to wor- ship, and it kills me — you will see the nateral consequence of all this in a few years. We shall run away from the :!is '^■:i n m 220 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. II practice of roligion into tliooiy. We shall have more sects than the vanity of man ever yet invented, and more enthu- sijiHm ami loss piety, and more pretension and less morals, than any civilized nation on the face of the airth. Instead of the well-regulated, even pulsation, that shows a healthy state of religion, it will be a feverish excitement or helpless debility. The body will sometimes appear dead, as when in a trance ; a glass over the lips will hardly detect respi- ration ; it will seem as if the vital spark was extinct. Then it will have fits of idiotcy, stupid, vacant, and drivelling; then excitement will inspire zeal, genius, and eloquence, and while you stand lost in admiration of its powers, its beauty, and sublimity, you will be startled by its wildness, its eccentric flashes, its incoherences ; and ttefore you can make up your mind that it has lost its balance, you will be shocked by its insanity, its horrible frantic raving madness. " ' Joshua,' said he, ' we ought to have established a church, fixed npor some one, and called it a national one. Not having done so, nothing short of a direct interposition of Providence, which we do not deserve, and therefore can not hope for, can save this great country from becoming a dependency of Rome. Popery, that is now only a speck ti these states, no bigger than a man's hand, will speedily spread into a great cloud, and cover this land so no ray of light can penetrate it : nay, it is a giant, and it will enter into a divided house and expel the unworthy occupants. We tolerate papists, because we believe they will inherit heaven equally with us ; but when their turn comes, will they tolerate us whom they hold to be heretics ? Oh, that we had held fast to the church that we had ! the church of our forefathers — the church of England. It is a pure, <\v THE OLD MINISTER. 221 noble, npostoHc Birncturo, tho holiest and the best since the (Inys of the npostles; but we have not, and the consoqnence is too melancholy and too awfnl to contemplate. Was it for this,' snid he, •! drew my sword in my country's cause?' and he pulled the blade half out. ' Had I known what 1 .low know' — and he drove it back with such force, T fairly '.hought it would have come out of t'other eend — * it should have rusted in its scabbard first — it should, indeed, Hope- well. Now, Joshua,' said he, and he oncovered his head ngin, for he was a religious man was Washington, and never took the Lord's name in vain, * recollect these words — ♦' visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me, and jhowing mercy unto thousands of them that love me" May the promise be ours; but, oh, far, far be the denunciation 'rom us and our posterity ! Franklin, Joshua, has a great 'leal to answer for. Success has made him flippant and /5olf-8uflicient, and, like all self-taught men, he thinks he knows more than he does, and more than anybody else. If he had more religion and less philosophy, as he calls jkepticism, it would be better for him and us, too. He is always a-sayin' to me, ''Leave religion alone, gineral ; leave *t to tJie voluntary principle ; the supply -wWi always keep pjico with the demand.''^ It is the maxim of a pedlar^ Joshua, and onworthy of a statesman or a Christian ; for, in religion, unlike other things, tho demand seldom or never precedes, but almost itivariahly follows and increases with tlie supply. *• An ignorant man knowetn not this, neither doth a fool understand it." I wish he could see with his own eyes the eft'ects of his liberality, Joshua, it would sober his e-«:ultation, and teach him a sad and humil- iili iiHlii.'r i !!' II ■!■:! 222 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. I* J I. !) '; / 1' i 'i S'l ;pf iHies»l iniing lesson. Let him cotne with :ne into Virginia and see the ruins of that great and good establishment that minis- tered to us in our youth as our nursing mother — let him txamiue the ninety-five parishes of the state, and he will f.nd twenty-three extinct, and thirty-four destitute, the pas- tors expelled by want, or violence, or death. " ' Ilis philosophy will be gratified, too, I suppose, by seeing the numerous proselytes he has made to his enlight- ened opinions. In breaking up the church, these rafio?iaJ religionists have adopted his maxims of frugality, and ab- stained from destroying that which might he usij'ul. The baptismal fonts have been preserved as convenient for watering horses, and the sacred cup has been retained as a relic of the olden time, to grace the convivial board. There is no bigotry here, Joshua, no narrow prejudice, for reformers are always men of enlarged minds. They have done their work like men. They have applied the proper- ty of the church to secular purposes, and covered their ini- quity under the cant of educating the poor, forgetting the while that a knowledge of God is the foundation of all wis- dom. They have extinguished the cry of the church being in danger by extinguishing the church itself. When re- formers talk of religious freedom as a popular topir, depend upon it they mean to dispense with religion altogether. What the end will bo I know not, for the issues are with Him from whom all good things do come ; but I do still in- dulge the hope all is not yet lost. Though the tree be cut down, the roots are left ; and the sun by day and the dew by uiglit may mature them, and new shoots may spring up, and grow luxuriantly, and afford shelt(!r in due season to them tiiat are weary and heavy-laden : and even if tla' w^Z. THE OLD MINISTER. 223 roots should be killed, the venerable parent-stock on the other side of the water, from which ours is an offset, is still in full vigor; and new layers may yet be laid by pious hands, which, under the blessing of Heaven, shall replace our loss. Yes, even I, thoiigh lately in arms against the English, may say, "Long may the maternal church live and iiourish ! and may the axe of the spoiler never be laid upon it by sacrilegious hands ;" for I warred with their king, and not against their God, who is my God also.' " Washington was right, Sam," continued Mr. Hopewell. •' We ought to have an establishment and national temples for worship ; for He has said, wl^o is truth itself, ' Where I record my name, I will come unto thee and bless thee.' Somehow, I fear his name is not legibly recorded here; but whose fault was this desertion of my Hock, mine, or them philosophers that made the constitution V* I availed myself here of a slight pause in the conversa- tion to give it another turn, for the excitement was too much for a man of his great years and sensibility. So I said that " I perfectly agreed with General Washington, of whom I entertained as exalted an opinion as he did; but that the circumstances of the times were such, and the prejudices against everything English so strong, it would have been utterly impossible for the framers of the consti- tution to have done otherwise than they did ; but," said I, " with reference to your visiting England, since steam-navi- jration has been introduced, the voyage has been stripped of all its discomforts, and half its duration ; and I am con- fident the trip would be as beneficial to your healtii as a our company would be instructive and agrcn^ablc to us. liavo you ever been there?" — 'Often," s;;id \h\ "Oh \(ii\ I ■i! ii;ii ■■ir, ^!{!iH!iiii) •Pii'lli i lliilll I if "11! i li! : , i :il i'l'll if- I lif i W' I 'ill!! ■I'm 221 SAM BUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 4. 14 -J- ■■!( I l-f) i I i V i know, or rather knew, dear old Erpland well — very woll; Jiiid I had a great many friends and correspondent-^ there; among the bishops many dear, very dear and learned friends : but, alas ! they are gone now !" — and he took his spectacles off' and wiped them with his handkerchief, for a tear had dimmed the glasses — " gone to receive the reward they have earned as good and ffiithfnl stewards. Let me see," said ho, "when was I there last? Oh! my memory fails me. I'll jist step into my study and get my journal;" but I fear it was to give vent to feelings that were over- powering him. When he had gone, Mr. Slick said : "Ain't he a most a-beautiful talker, that, squire, even when he is a little wanderin' in his mind, as he is now? There is nothin' he don't know. He is jist a walkin' dictionary. He not only knows how to spell every word, but he knows its meanin', and its root as he calls it, and what nation made it first. He knows Hebrew better nor any Jew yon over see, for he knows it so well he can read it backward. He says it's the right way ; but that's only his modesty, for I 've tried English backward, and I can't make no hand of it. Oh ! he'd wear a slate out in no time, he writes so much on things he thinks on. He is a peg too low now. I'll jist give him a dose of soft-sawder; for old or young, men or women, high or low, ^^ery palate likes that. I'll pv.t him up, if I can, another note or so ; but he is so crotchied, and flies oft' the handle so, you hardly know where to touch him. The most curious thing about him is the way he acts about the stars. He has gi'n 'em all names, and talks of 'em as if they were humans ; he does, upon my soul. There is his Mars, and Veims, and Saturn, and Big Bear, and Little Bcq^-, and the Lord knows THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 225 what all. I mind, once I put him into a most an allfired passion when he was talkin' about 'em. I never see him 'n 8l"-h a rage before or since, for he didn't speak for the matter of tliree minntes. When he is mad, he jist walks up and down the room, and counts a hundred to himself, and that cools him, for he says it's better to have nothin' 80 say than sunthin' to repent of. Well, this time, I guess he counted two hundred ; for it was longer than common afore he had udded it all up and sum-totalized it. I '11 tell you how it was. Him and me was a-sittin' talkin' over nothin' at all, jist as we are now, when all at once he gets up and goes to the winder, and presently sings out — ' Sam,' says he, * put your hat on, my boy, and let's go and see Venus dip to-night.' But here he comes. I '11 tell you that are story some other time, for here comes the old minuter." CHAPTER XIX. THB BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. Such is the charm of manner, that it often happens that what we hear with pleasure we afterward read with dimin- ished satisfaction. I can not now give the words of the min- ister, for the memory seldom retains more than the substance, and I am quite aware how much these conversations lose in repeating. He was, as Mr. Slick observed, "the best talker I ever heard," and I regretted that my time was so limited I had it not in my power to enjoy more of his soci- ety at this place, although I am not altogether without 10 'm lllli I '■liiill'l imm' il ! 'illl ' h'A'r I! m .,,,''1 { Ii ^ ' ! 226 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. mi fer ■if I ; ' ■?■ i i 4 ' p L I a Hi 1 '• >! I I * 4 1 I •i:'i;li hopes that, as I have enlisted " Aunt Hetty" on my side, I have succeeded in persuading him to accompany us to England. Hc»v delightful it would be to hear his observa- tions on the aspect of affairs there — to hear him contrast the present with the past, and listen to his conjectures about the future. With such a thorough knowledge of man, and such an extensive experience as he has had of the operation of various forms of government, his predic- tions would appear almost prophetic. When he returned from his study, Mr. Slick rose and left the room in search of amusement in the village, and I availed myself of the opportunity to ascertain his opinions respecting the adjoin- ing colonies ; for the constant interruption he received from the ciockmaker had a tendency to make his conversation too desultory for one whose object was instruction. I there- fore lost no time in asking him what changes he thought " would be desirable to improve the condition of the people in British-America, and perpetuate the connection with England ?" " Ah ! sir,"' said he, " that word • change' is ' the incanta- tion that calls fools into a circle.' It is the ridcile that per- plexes British statesmen, and the rock on which they are constantly making shipwreck. They are like our friend Samuel, who changes his abode so often, that removal has become necessary to his very existence. A desire for po- litical change, like a fondness for travel, grows witli the in- dulgence. What you want in the colonies is tranqnillity, not change. Quod pet is hie est. You may change constitutions for ever, but you can not change man. He is still unaltered under every vicissitude, the same restless, discontented, dissatisfied animal. Even in this pure unmixed democracy Sa*,- THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 227 of ours, he is as loud in his complaints as under the strict- est despotism ; nay, louder, for the more he is indulged the more intractable he becomes. The object of statesmen, therefore, should be, not to study what changes should be conceded, but the causes that lead men to desire change. The restlessness in the colonies proceeds not from griev- ances — for, with the exception of a total absence of patron- age, they do not exist — but it is caused by an >sines8 of position, arising from a want of room to move in. There is no field for ambition, no room for the exercise of distin- guished talent in the provinces. The colonists, when com- paring their situation with that of their more fortunate brethren in England, find all honor monopolized at home, and employment, preferments, and titles, liberally bestowed on men frequently inferior, in intellect and ability, to them- selves, and this invidious distinction sinks deeper into the heart than they are willing to acknowledge themselves. Men seldom avow the real motives of their actions. A lit- tleness of feeling is often, in reality, the source of conduct that claims to spring from a virtue. A slight, an insult, or a disappointment, jealousy, envy, or personal dislike, often find a convenient shelter in agitation, and a more respecta- ble name in patriotism. A man who quits his church in teUiper would have you believe he has scruples of con- science, which he requires you to respect; and he who rebels, in the hope of amending his fortune, ascribes his c-.iduct to an ardent love of country, and a devotion to the cause of freedom. Grievances are convenient masks under which to hide our real objects. The great question then is, what induces men in the provinces to resort to them as pre- texts 1 The cause now, as in 1777, is the absence of all :'-/!i!'i III ill! ''■' i'.'i'''- "My : ill 228 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. patronage — the impossibility there is for talent to rise; want of room — of that employment that is required for ability of a certain description ; at least, this is the cause with those who have the power to influence — to lead — to direct public opinion. I allude only to these men, for the haders nre the workmen, find the multitude their tools. It is difficult to make an Englishman comprehend this. Our successful rebellion, one would have supp sed, would not easily have been forgotten; but, unfortunately, it was a les- son not all understood." This was so novel a view of the subject, and the asser- tion that all the recent complaints were fictitious, was so different from what I had apprehended to be the case, that I could not resist asking him if there were no real grievances in J777, when his countrymen took up arms against us ? "No, sir," said he, "none — none of any magnitude, except the attempt to tax for the purpose of revenue, which was wrong, very wrong, indeed ; hvt if that which was put forth, as the main one, had heen the real cause, when it ceased, the rehellion would have ceased also. But there was another, a secret and unavowed, the more powerful cause, the want of patronage. I will explain this to you. States- men have always been prone to consider the colonies as a field reserved for the 5>upport of their dependants, and they are, unfortunately, so distant from the parent-state that the rays of royal favor do not easily penetrate so far. Noisy applicants, mercenary voters, and importunate suitors at home, engross the attention and monopolize the favor of those in power, and provincial merit is left to languish for want of encouragement. Tiie provincials hear of corona- THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 229 !i!l tion honors, of flattering distinctions, and of marks of royal favor ; but, alas ! they participate not in them. A few of the petty, h)cal officers, which they pay themselves out of their little revenue, have long since been held their due, and, within these few years, I hear tl)e reformers have gen- erously promised not to deprive them of this valuable pa- tronage in any. case where it is not required for others. Beyond this honorable parish rank no man can rise, and we look in vain for the name of a colonist, whatever bis loyalty, his talent, or his services may be, out of the limits of his own country. The colonial clergy are excluded from the dignities of the church of England, the lawyers from the preferments of the bar, and the medical men from prac- tising out of their own country, while the professions in the colonies are open to all who migrate thither. The avenues to the army and navy, and all the departments of the impe- rial service, are practically closed to them. Notwithstand- ing the intimate knowledge they possess on colonial sub- jects, who of thv.Ir leading men are ever selected to govern other provinces ? A captain in the navy, a colonel in the army, a London merchant, or an unprovided natural son — any person, in short, from whose previous education consti- tutional law has been wholly excluded — is thought ^*'tter qualified, or more eligible, for these important duties, than a colonist ; while that department that manages and directs all these dependencies seldom contains one individual that has ever been out of Great Britain. A peerage generally awaits a governor-general ; but indifference or neglect re- wards those through whose intelligence and ability he is alone enabled to discharge his duties. The same remedy for this contemptuous neglect occurs to all men, in all ages. I li i IFi: III 11 li mm !l iiiiiil'i!!' 1.:! Hi '.■ li ■';i iiii IS J' 230 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS A^ DOINGS. Si I: 4» .'.If , li i i ■1 Wlien tlie flelc gate from the Gabii consulted Tarquin. he took him into his garden, and, drawing his sword, cut off the heads of the tallest poppies. The hint was not lost, and the patricians soon severally disappeared. When our agent in France mentioned the diflficulties that subsisted between us and Britain, the king significantly pointed to a piece of ordnance, and observed it was an able negotiator, and the meaning was too obvious to be disregarded. When Papineau, more recently, asked advice of the reformers in England, he was told, ' Keep the glorious example of the United States constantly in view ;' and an insurrection soon followed, to destroy what his friend called 'the baneful domination.' " The consequence of this oversight or neglect, as our rev- olution and the late disturbances in Canada but too plainly evince, is, that ambition, disappointed of its legitimate exer- cise, is apt, in its despair, to attempt the enlargement of its sphere by the use of the sword. Washington, it is well known, felt the chilling influence of this policy. Having attained, early in life, to great influence by the favor of his countrymen, not only without the aid, but against the neglect of the commander-in-chief, he saw a regular, and sometimes not a very judicious advancement in the military operations of America, of every man who had the good fortune not to be a colonist. He felt that his country was converted into one of the great stages at which these favored travellers rested for a time to reap the reward of their exile, and resume their journey up the ascent of life, while all those who permanently resided here were doomed to be stationary spectators of this mortifying spectacle. Conscious of his own powers, he smarted under this treat- !•; H^'- THE BARBEL WITHOUT HOOPS. 231 ment, and he who became too powerful for Ji subject might, under a wiser and kinder policy, have been transferred to a higher and more honorable position in another colony. Progressive advancement, to which his talents, and at one time his services, gave him a far better claim than most gov- ernors can exhibit, would have deprived him of the motive, the means, and the temptation, to seek in patriotism what was denied to merit and loyalty. History affords us some recent instances, in which the administration in the parent- state have relieved themselves of ' an inconvenient friend,* by giving him an appointment abroad. Ambitious men who attain to this inconvenient eminence in the colonies might, with equal advantage to the country and themselves, be transferred to a more extended and safer sphere of action in other parts of the empire. No man now pretends to deny, that it was the want of some such safety-valve that caused the explosion in these old colonies that now form the United States. Patriotism then, as in all ages, covered a multitude of sins ; and he who preferred, like a Washing- ton, a Jefi'erson, or an Adams, the command of armies, the presidential chair of a great nation, and the patronage and other attributes of royalty, to the rank of a retired planter, a practising provincial barrister, or an humble representative in a local legislature, easily became a convert to the doc- trine that a stamp-act was illegal, and a tax on tea an intolerable oppression. When loyalty, like chastity, ie: con- sidered, as it now is, to be its own great reward, and agita- tion is decorated with so many brilliant prizes, it is not to be wondered at if men constantly endeavor to persuade themselves that every refusal of a request is both an arbi- trary and unjust exercise of power, that denial justifies !, ''I 3 fiiJS 11 \m m k:f jl '% ij •m r* ,;1 ll nKi 232 SAM SUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. M ■ : - :\ ' i ! !».'. t reBistance, and that resistance is a virtue. Instead of con- ceding to popular cluinor changes that are dangerous, it is safer and wiser to give ambition a new direction, and to show tiiat the government has the disposition to patronize, as well as the power to punish. It is unjust to the queen, and unkind to the colonists, to exhibit the image of their sovereign in no other attitude than that of an avenging des- pot exacting obedience, and enforcing dependence. Roy- alty has other qualities that appeal to the hearts of subjects ; but parliamentary influence is too selfish, and toe busy, to permit statesmen to regard colonists in any other light than the humble tenantry of the distant possessions of the empire. Grievances (except the unavowed one I have just men- tioned, which ; is the prolific parent of all that bear the name of patriots), fortunately do not exist ; but ambitious men, like hypochondriacs, when real evils are wanting, often supply their place with imaginary ones. Provincial- ism and nationality are difierent degrees of the same thing, and both take their rise in the same feeling — love of coun- try — while no colony is so poor or so small as not to engen- der it. The public or distinguished men of a province are public property, and the people feel an interest in them in an inverse ratio, perhaps, to their own individual want of importance. To those who have the distribution of this patronage, it must be gratifying to know, that when this is the case, an act of justice will always appear an act of grace." " Here we is agin," said Mr. Slick, who now entered the room. " How am you was ? how is you been ? as Tousand Teyvils said to the Dutch governor. Well, minister, did you find the date 1 Whyn w as it you was in England thS barrel without hoops. 288 last?" Nothing coiild be more provoking than this inter- ruption, for the subject we were talking upon was one of great interest to a colonist, and no opportunity occurred of reverting to it afterward. The change of the topic, how- ever, was not more sudden than the change of Mr. Hope- well's manner and style of speaking ; for he adopted at onbe the familiar and idiomatic language to which Mr. Slick was more accustomed, as one better suited to the level of his understanding. " It was in '85," said Mr. Hopewell ; " I haven't been to England since, and that's fifty-five years ago. It is a long time that, isn't it ? How many changes have taken place since ! I don't suppose I should know it agin nowv" — " Why minister," said Mr. Slick, " you put me in mind of the prophet." — •' Yes, yes, Sam," said he, " I dare saj I do, for you are always a-thinkin* on profit and loss : Natur' jist fitted you for a trader. Dollars and cents is always uppermost on your mind." — "Oh, dear!" he re- plied, "I didn't mean that at all — I mean him that got on Pisgah. You have attained such n height as it mought be in years — you can see a great way behind, and ever so far ahead. You have told us what 's 'fore us in our great republic, now tell us what's afore England." — "First of all," said he, "I'll tell you what's afore you, my son, and that is, if you talk in that are loose way to Britain, about sacred things and persons, you won't be admitted into no decent man's house at all, and I wouldn't admit you into mine if I did n't know your tongue was the worsest part of you, and that it neither spoke for the head or heart, but jist for itself. As for the English empire, Sam, it's tho greatest the world ever seed. The sun never sets on it. The banner of England float' -^u every breeze and on every HI II ''ill I,. I I m m m m k i! ■| il;! U'Mi' ■i,:i':ii M 1, mill mi :\U !iii|'|i| 11!! 2.?4 8AM BUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ■ «■* ir I . I 'i r . 4im Ir i .li 1 son. So many parts and jtiecos require good management and groat skill to hind together, for it ain't a whole of itself, like a single-stick mast, hut a spliced one, composed of numerous pieces and joints. Now, the most beautiful thing of the kind — not political, but mechanical — is a barrel. I defy any one but a rael cooper to make one so as to hold water; indeed, it ain't every cooper can do it, for there are bungling coopers as well as bungling states- men. Now, see how many staves there are in a barrel — " (" Do you mean a barrel-organ V* said the clockrnaker, " for some o' them grind some very tidy staves, of times, I tell you." — *' Pooh !" said Mr. Hopewell) — " how well they all fit, how tight they all come together, how firm and secure the hoops keep them in their places. Well, when it's right done, it don't leak one drop, and you can stand it upon eend, or lay it down on its side, and roll it over and over, and still it seems as if it were all solid wood. Not only that, but put it into a vessel, and clap a thousand of them right a-top of one another, and they won't squash in, but bear any weight you choose to put on them. But," he con- tinued, " but, sir, cut the hoops and where is your barrel ?" — (" Where is the liquor ? you should my" said Mr. Slick, " for that is always worth a great deal more than the bar- rel by a long chalk, and while you are a-talkin' about coop- erin', I will jist go and tap that Mce cask of prime old East Ingy Madeira Captain Ned Sparro gave you." — " Do," said My. Hopewell ; " I am sorry I didn't think of it afore ; but don't shake it, Sam, or you'll ryle it.) Well, sir, where is your barrel 1 why, a heap of old iron hoops and wooden staves. Now, in time, the heat of Ihe sun, and rollin' about, and what not, shrinks a cask, as a matter of course, and THE BARRKL WITHOUT HOOPS. 285 the lioops nil loosen, arid you must drive them up occasion- ally, to keep all tight and snug. A little attention this way, and it will lant for ever a'most. Now, somehow or another, the British appear to me of late years to revarse this rule, and instead of tightening the hoops of their great body politic, as they ought to do, they loosen them, and if they continue to do so much longer, that great empire will tumble to pieces as sure as we are a-talkin' here. " Now, one of the great bonds of society is religion — a national establishment of religion — one that provides, at the expense of the state, for the religious education of the poor — one that inculcates good morals with sound doctrines — one that teaches folks to honor the king, at the same time that it commands them to fear God — one that preaches humility to the rich, deference to the poor, and exacts from both an obedience to the laws — one that seeks the light it disperses to others from that sacred source, the Bible ; and so far from being ashamed of it, from excluding it from schools, says to all, ' Search the Scriptures' — one, in short, that makes people at once good men, good Christians, and good subjects. They have got this to England, and they arc happy enough to have it in the colonies. It's inter- woven into the state so beautiful, and yet so skilful, that while the church in not j^olitical, tht state is not religious. There is nothin' like their liturgy in any language, nor never will be agin ; and all good men may be made better for their Book of Prayer — a book every protestant ought to revere — for them that compiled it laid down their lives for it. It was written in the hluod of fhc martyrs, and not like some (ithers 1 could tell you of, in the hJood of its mis- erable victims. Now, when I see ten pr» .'estant bishops cut ■,,ii 'i !N' 'i!i!:i I.: I I mk II I , I, ",'\ j;;iM i ■-\\\.,.\\- \\ ll 23G BAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. i^ off at one fell swoop from Ireland, where they are so mnch needed, I say you arc looscnin' the hoops. When I see aid withdr twn from the colonial church., their temporalities in- terfered with, and an attempt made to take away the char- ter from its college to Windsor, Nova Scotia — when I hear that the loypl colonists say (J hope the report ain't true) that they are discouraged, agitators boact they are patron- ized, and rebels runnin' about with pardons in their hands — when I hear there ain't difference enough made between truly good conservative subjects and factious demagogues, I say you are looseniifC the hoops ; and when I hear all talk and no cider, as the sayin' is," said Mr. Slick, who just then returned with some of the old wine from the cellar, •• I say it *8 dry work ; so here 's to you, minister, and let me advise you to moisten them are staves, your ribs, or your hoops will off, I tell you. Put a pint of that are good old stuff under your waistcoat every day, and see how beautiful your skin v/ill fit at the eend of a month. You might beat a tattoo on it like a aiuni." — " You give your tongue a lit- tle too much license, Sam," said Mr. Hopewell ; •* but, squire, he is a r.ort of privileged man here, and T don't mind him. Help yourself, if you please, sir. Here's a pleasant voyage to you, sir. As I was a-sayin', when I hear it said to the bench of bishops, ' Put your house in order, for your days are numbered,' I say you are more than loosenin' the hoops, you are stavin' in the cask. There are some things I do n't onderstand, and some things I hear I do n't believe. I am no politician ; but I should Hke to go to England, if I warn't too old, to see into the actual state of things. How is it there is a hoop loose to New- foundland, another to the West Ingies, and half a dozen to THE BARREL WITHOUT HOOPS. 237 Canada, another to the East, and one in almost every colony ? How is it there is chartism and socialism in Eng- land, secret associations in Ireland, rebellion in your prov- inces, and agitation everywhere ? The '!.oops want tight- ening. The leaders of all these teams are runnin' wild because the reins are held too loose, and because they think the state-coachmen are afeerd on 'em. I hear they now talk of responsible government in the colonies ; is that true, sir ?" I replied, " It had some advocates, and it was natural it should. All men like power; and, as it would place the governor* in subjection to the governc^Z, it was too agreeable a privilege not to be desired by popular leaders." — " That," said he, " (and few men livin' know more nor I do about colonies, for I was born in one, and saw it grow and ripen into an independent state) — that is the last bond of union between Great Britain and her col- onies. Let her sever that bond, and she will find she re- sembles — the barrel withjut hoops.''^ 1(1.-. ;iillib' i ■■ M I II I: I Ill" ■ liiM In ill I : II!: I ' 0,i Vil: m t'f ': 238 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. CHAPTER XX. FACING A WOMAN. r^ y.'r f il This was the day fixed for our departure, and I must say I never felt so much regret at leaving any family I had known for so short a time as I experienced on the present occasion. Mr. Slick, I am inclined to think, v/as aware of my feelings, and to prevent the formality of bidding adieu, commenced a rhodomontade conversation with Aunt Hetty. As soon as we rose from the breakfast-table, he led her to one of the windows, and said, with a solemnity that was quite ludicrous, " He is very ill, very ill, indeed ; he looks as sick as death in the primer : I guess it 's gone goose with him." " Who is ill ]" said Aunt Hetty, in great alarm. " He is up a tree; his flint is fixed, you may depend." — "Who, Sam ? tell me, dear, who it is." — " And he so far from home; ain't it horrid? and pisoned, too, and that in minis- ter's house." — " Lord, Sam, how you frighten a body ! who is pisoned ?" — *' The squire, aunty ; do n't you see how pale he looks." — "Pisoned! oh, for ever! Well, I want to know. Lawful heart alive ! how could he be pisored ? O Sam ! I '11 tell you ; I 've got it now. How stupid it was of me not to ask him if he could eat them; it's them prcsavved strawberrios ; yes, yes, it 's the strawberries. They do pison some folks. There was Sister Wood- bridge's son's wife's youngest darter that she had by the 11,; mm !ii'i!li FACING A WOltfAN. 239 first marriage, Prudence. Well, Prudence never could eat them ; they always brought on " " Oh, it 's worse nor that, aunty ; it ain't strawberries, tho' I know they ain't good eatin' for them that don't like them. It's " "And a mustard emetic was the onliest thing hi natur' to relieve her. It made her " '• Oh, it ain't them, it's love: you've killed him." — "Me, Sam! why how yon talk ! what on airth do you mean V* — " You 've killed him as dead as a herring. I told you your eyes would cut right into him, for he was as soft as a pig fed on beechnuts iind raw potatoes; but you wouldn't believe me. Oh! you've done the job for him : he told me so hisself. Says he, ' Mr. Slick' (for he always calls me Mr. he is so formal), says he, ' Mr. Slick, you may talk of lovely women, but I know a gall that is a heavenly splice. What eyes she has, and what feet, and what a neck, and what a ' " *' Why, Sam, the man is mad : he has taken leave of his senses." — "Mad ! I guess he is — ravin' distracted. Your eyes have pisoned him. He says, 'Of all the affectionate sisters and charmiri: women he ever seed, you do beat all.' " — •' Oh ! he meanh ./'a I once was, Sam ; for I \^as considered a like- ly gall . r • day, that's a fact; but, dear o' me, only to think times i altered." — '• Yes, but you ain't altered ; ' For,' says he — 'for a woman of her great age, Aunt Hetty is — ' " • Well, he had n't much to do, then, to talk of my advanced age, for I am not so old as all that comes to nother. He is no gentleman to talk that way, and you may icll him so." — " No, I am wrong ; he did n't say * great age,' he said ' great beauty : she is very unaffected.' " — " Well, I thought he wouldn't be so rude as to remark on a lady's age."-^ " Says he, ' Her gray hairs suit her complexion.' " — " Well, illjii! .[H a' ! ii:,!! il H m ipif'l; ■M I i I II 1 P^ 1 ;->;' ■- 1 " 1 ' «l "W ' * !' Ij i'* ■» f )% y r: %' ^i f: Ir'f .v ■ j' M 1 '^ 1 1 t t 1 :' ,0 M i i *!; 1 ■ <, 1 ^ ■■■? 1' i^ I-' ) -•" I 1 ,. V : 1 ' ^^ 1 ■ ■ -V !| i '■' \ • Pi ■ if n i t 1 1 ■,\. 240 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. I don't thank him for his impedance, nor you nother for repeatin' it." — " No, I mean gray eyes. He said he ad- mired the eyes: gray was his coh>r." — "Well, I thought he would n't be so vulgar, for he is a very pretty man, and a very polite man, too ; and I do n't see the blue nose you spoke of nother." — " And says he, ' If I could muster cour- age, I would propose '" "But, Sam, it's so sudden. Oh, dear ! I am in such a fluster, I shall faint." — " ' I shall propose for her to ' " " Oh ! I never could on such short notice. I have nothing but black made up ; and there is poor Joshua " " ' I should propose for her to accompany her brother ' " •* Well, if Joshua would consent to go with us — but, poor soul ! he couldn't travel, I don't think." — " * To accompany her brother as far as New York, for his infirmities require a kind nurse.' " — " Oh, dear ! is that all ? How mighty narvons he is. I guess the crittur is pisoned sure enough, but then it 's with aflfec- tation," — " Come, aunty, a kiss at partin'. We are off; good-by ; but that was an awful big hole you made in his heart, too. You broke the pane clean out and only left the sash. He 's a caution to behold. Good-by!" And away we went from Slickville. During our morning's drive, the probability of a war with England was talked of; and, in the course of conver- sation, Mr. Slick said, with a grave face : " Squire, you say we Yankees boast too much ; and it ain't improbable we do, seein' that we have whipped the Ingians, the French, the British, the Spaniards, the Algerines, the Malaya, and every created crittur a'most that dared to stand afore us, and try his hand at it. So much success is e'en a'most enough to turn folks' heads, and make 'em a little consaited, i 1': FACING A WOMAN. 241 ain't it ? Now give me your candid opinion ; I won't be the leastest morsel offended, if you do give it agin' us ; hut speak onresarved — who do you tliink is the bravest peo- ple, the Yankees or the British ] I should like to hear your mind upon it," — "They are the same people," I said, "differing as little, perhaps, from each other as the inhab- itants of any two counties in England ; and it is deeply to be deplored that two such gallant nations, having a common origin and a common language, and so intimately connected by the ties of consanguinity and mutual interest, should ever imbrue their hands in each other's blood. A war be- tween people thus peculiarly related is an unnatural spec- tacle, that no rational man can contemplate without horror. In the event of any future contest, the issue will be as heretofore — sometimes in favor of one, and sometimes of the Oiuer. Superior discipline will decide some engage- ments, and numbers others, while accidental circumstances will turn the scale in many a well-fought field. If you ask me, therefore, which I conceive to be the braver people of the two, I should unquestionably say, neither claim pre- eminence. All people of the same stock, living in a similar climate, and having nearly the same diet and habits, must, as a. matter of course, possess animal courage, as nearly as possible, in the same degree. I say habits, because we know that, in individuals, habits have a great deal to do with it. For instance, a soldier will exhibit great fear if ordered to reef a topsail ; and a sailor, if mounted on the — " " Well, well," said he, •' p'rhaps you are right ; but boastin' does some good, too. Only get people to think they can do a thing, and they can do it. The British boasted that one Englishman could whip three Frenchmen, and it warn't I ■I'M. mi m m ' llii :l i :;: 'iil 242 SAM BUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. |:r "ft p* it i ! I s I I- J -ii without its effect in the wars, as Bonaparte knowed to his cost. Now, oiu folks boast that one Yankee can walk into three Englishmen ; and somehow or another, 1 kinder guess they will — try to do it, at any rate, ^'^or my part, I am pretty much like father, and he used to say he never was afeerd of anything on the face of the airth but a woman. Did I ever tell you the story of father's courtship ?"— ^ *' No," I replied, " never ; your stock of anecdotes is inex- haustible, and your memory so good you never fall into the common error of great talkers, of telling your stories a sec- ond time. I should like to hear it." — " Well," said he, " it .•\in't an easy story to tell, for fathev always told it with variations, accordin' to what he had on board at the time, for it was only on the annivarsary of his weddin' he used to tell it ; and as there was considerable brag about father, he used to introduce new flourishes every time — what our singin' master in sacred melody, Doldrum Dykins, used to call grace-notes. ' Sam,' he 'd say, ' I have been married this day — let me see, how many years is it? do you recollect, Vo'\y dear?' — ' Why,' says mother, *I can't say rightly, for I never kept a tally ; but it's a considerable some, tho', I estimate.' (She never would answer that question, poor dear old soul ! for women don't like to count arter that if they can help it, that's a fact.) 'Well,' says father, 'it's either eight or nine-and-twenty years ago, I forget which.' — ' It's no such thing,' says mother, quite snappishly, ' Sam is only twenty-one last Thanksgiving-day, and he was born jist nine months and one day after we was married, so there now.' (Father gives me a wink, as much as to say, 'that's woman now, Sam, all over, ain't it?') ' Well, your mother was eighteen when wo was married, and twenty-one years, FACING A WOMAN. 248 and iiiiio months, mid one dny, nddod to that, makes her near liand to fort .' ' Never mind wliat it makes,' says mother, 'but go on with your story, whatever it is, and sutiitotalize it. Yoii are like Dohlrum Dykins, he sings the Avords of each varse over tliree times.' — ' Well,' said he, 'this / u'ill say, a youii^er-lookin', hloominer woman of her age there ain't this day in all Slickville, no, nor i'l Corne'tictit i other.' — 'Why, Mr. Slick,' says mother, layin' down her knittin' and fixin her cap, * how you do talk!' — 'Fact, upon my soul, Polly,' said he; 'but Sam,* said he, ' if you'd a ser'^ her when I first knowed her ! she was a most super-superior gal and worth lookin' at, I tell you. She was a whole team and a horse to spare — a rael screamer, that's a fact. She was a most a beautiful piece of woman-flesh, fine corn-fed, and showed her keep. Light on the foot as a fox, cheeks as fair as a peach and hard as an apple, lips like cherries — lick! you wouldn't see such a gall if you was to sarch all the factories to Lowell, for she looked as if she could e'en a-most jump over her own shadow, she was so tarnal wiry. Heavini ! how springy she was to a wrastle, when we was first married ! She always throwed me three or four times, at first, hand-run- nin' ; in course I was stronger, and it ginerally eended in my throwin' her at last ; but then that was nateral, seein' she was the weakest. Oh ! she was a rael doll — she was the dandy, that's a fact' — 'Well, I want to know,' said mother, ' did you ever V a-tryin' to look cross, but as pleased as anything, and her eyes fairly twinklin' again to hear the old man's soft-sawder : ' Why the man is tipsy to talk that way afore the boy ; do for gracious sake behave, or I '11 go right out.' 1'tien, turnin' to me and fillin' my glass, ' Do ..!!ii ii;'.';iii m i;!'' ill- Hni ':i'!i' III ir,ll,' lij r •■ i! jii !"|i 244 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. s; \ H ' m drink, dear,' says she, 'you seem kinder dull.' — 'Well, she was the only created crittur,' says he, * I ever seed I was darnted afore.' — ' You got bravely over it, anyhow,' says mother. ' Courtin',' says he, ' Sam, is about the hardest work I kno-w on ; fightin' is nothin' to it. Facin' ball, grape, or bullet, or baganut, as we did at Bunker's hill, is easy when a man is used to it ; but face-in' a woman is — it 's the devil, that 's a fact. When I first seed her, she filled my eye chock full ; her pints were all good ; short back, good rate to the shoulder, neat pastern, full about the ' • There you go agin,' says mother ; ' I don't thank you one bit for talkin' of me as if I was a filly, and I won't stay to hear it, so there now : I believe, in my soul, you are onfaki- lized.' — ' Well, 1 reconnoitred and reconnoitred for ever bo long, a-considerin' how I was to lay siege to her ; stormin' a battery or escaladin' a redoubt is nothin' to it, I have done it fifty times.' — 'Fifty times!' says mother, lookin' arch to hire, for she was kinder sorter wrathy at bein' talked of as a horse. ' Well,' says father, ' forty times at any rate.' — 'Forty times!' says mother ; 'that's a powerful number.' — 'Well, d — n it! twenty times, then, and more too.' — ' Twenty times !' said she ; ' did our folks storm twenty batteries all together V — ' Why, tarnation !' says father, • I suppose at last you '11 say I warn't at Bunker's hill at all, or Mud creek, or the battle atween the outpostt: at Peach orchard ' ' Or cliargin' Elder Solomon Longstaffs sheep,' says mother. ' Well, by the tarnal !' says father, who hopped with rage like a ravin' distracted parched pea, 'if that beaut p'tikilar, I am a pumkin, and the pigs may do their prettiest with me. Did n't I tell you, Sam, nothin' could come up t j a woman V — ' Except a filly,' says mother ; ']5 M-V PACING A WOMAN. 245 M 'now don't compare me to a boss, and talk of pints that ain't to be thought of, much less talked of, and I won't jibe you about your campaigns ; for one thing is sartain, no man ever doubted your courage, and Gineral Gates told me so himself. " Polly," says the gineral, "if you take Sargeant Slick, you take a hero." ' — ' Well,' says father, quite molli- fied by that are title of hero. Gates was a good judge, and a good feller too. Fill your glass, Sam, for I always cal- culate to be merry on this night ; and Polly dear, you must take a drop too : if we do get warm sometimes, makin' up seems all the sweeter for it.' " ' Well, as I was a-sayin', I studied every sort of way how I should begin : so at last, thinks I, a faint heart never won a fair lady ; so one sabbath-day I brushed up my regi- mentals, and hung old Bunker by my side, and ironed out my hat anew, and washed the feather in milk till it looked as well as one jist boughten, and oflF I goes to meetin'. Well, I won't say I heerd much of the sarmon, because I didn't; but I know it was a little the longest I ever sot out ; and when we was dismissed, I was e'en a'most Borry it was over, I was so discomboborated, and I breathed as short as if I had a-been chasin' of the British all day ; but at last I moved out with the crowd, and movin' sot me all to rights agin. So I marches up to Polly Styles — that was your mother that is — " Mornin'," says J, "Miss Styles," and I gave her a salute.' — ' Why, Slick,' says she, ' how you talk! you never did no such a thing ; jist as if I would let you salute me before all the folks that way.' — ' I did, tho*, upon my soul,' says father. — ' I'll take my Bible-oath,' says mother, * there is not a tvord of truth in it.' — * Why, Polly,* says father, * how can you say so ] I brought both i 1; I 111 i* 246 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. V h s ; :i 'r '' ; I ill feet to the fii>t position t^'is way' — and he got upon the floor and indicated — ' then I came to attention this way' — and he stood up as stiff as a poker, he held his arms down by h's side quite straight, and his head as erect as a flagstaff — 'then I brought up my right arm with a grace- ful sweep, and without bendin' the body or movin' tlie head the least mite or morsel in the world, I brought the back of my hand against the front of my regimental hat,' and he indicated again. 'Oh!' says mother, 'that salute, indeed ! I detract, I recoHeet you did.' — ' That salute,' says father — • why, what salute did you mean V — ' Why,' says mother, colorin* up, * I thought you meant that — ^that — that — never mind what I meant.' — 'Oh ho!' says father, • I take, I lake; talk of a salute, and a woman can't think of anything else but a kiss. It's the first thing they think of in the mornin', and the last at night.' — ' Go on with your story, and cut it short, if you please,' says mother, 'for it's gettin' rather tedious.' — ' " Mornin'," says I, " Miss Styles, how do you do ?" " Eeasonable well, I give you thanks," says she, " how be you ?" " Considerable," says I. When that was done, the froth was gone, and the beer flat ; I couldn't think of another word to say for mindin' of her, and how beautiful she was, and I walked on as silent as if I was at the head of my guard. At last says your mother, " Is that splendid regimental you have on, Mr. Slick, the same you wore at Bunker's hill?" Oh, dear? what a load that word took off my heart ! it gave me somethin' to say, tho' none of the clearest. " Yes, Miss," says I, " it is ; and it was a glorious day for this great republic — it was the cradle of our liberty." "Well done, Slick!" says her father, as he rode by jist at that moment, " you are gittin' 1 1 . • I Hi PACING A WOMAN. 247 on bravely, talkin' of cradles already." Well, that knocked me all up of a lieap, and sot your mother a-colorin' as red as anything. I hardly know what I said arter that, and used one word for another, like a fool. •' We had twenty thousand as fine, gallant young galls there," says I, " that day, as ever I laid eyes on." *' Twenty thousand !" said Polly, " do tell ! Why, what on airth was they a-doin' of there ?" ** In arms," snys I, " a-strugglin' for their lib- erty." *' And did they get away ?" said she, a-laughin'. " Poor things !" said I, "many of them, whose bosoms beat high with ardor, were levelled there that day, I guess." — "Why, Mr. Slick," said she, "how you talk!" "Yes," says I, " nine of them from Charlestown accompanied me there, and we spent the night afore the ingagement in the trenches without a blanket to cover us." " They had little to do to be there at such hours with you," said Polly. " Little to do ?" said I ; " you would n't have said so, Miss, if you had a-been there. You'd a-found that lyin' ex- posed " " I don't want to hear no more about it," said she ; " let 's join mother, and I '11 ax her about it." " Do,'* said I, "and she'll tell you they fell on a bed of glory." " Mother," says Polly, " Sargeant Slick says there were twenty thousand galls at Bunker's hill ; did you ever hear tell of it afore V " Men," says I. " No, galls," said she. *• No, men," says I. " Twenty thousand galls," they all repeated ; and then they laughed ready to kill themselves, and said, " What onder the sun could put such a crotchet as that are into your head 1" " Miss," says I, " if I did say 80 " "Oh ! you did," said she, " and you know it." " If I did say so it was a mistake ; but that put it into my head that put everything else out." " And what was that 1" said i II 248 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. K, ir: W t ■,:ii I J ■ : f I Hlie. " Why, as pretty a gall," said I, " as " •• Oh ! then," said she, *' thry was all galls in the trenches, after all. I won't hear no more about them at no rate. Good-by." Well, there I stood lookin' like a fool, and feelin' a proper sight bigger fool than I looked.' — 'Dear heart !' says mother, gittin' up and goin' behind him, and pattin' him on the cheek, ' did she make a fool of him, then V and she put her arm round his neck and kissed him, and then filling up his tumbler said, * Go on, dear.' — * Well, it was some time,' said father, 'afore I recovered that misstep ; and whenever I looked at her avterward she laughed, and that confused me more; so that I began to think, at last, it would he jist about as well for me to give it up as a bad bargain ; when one sabbath-day I observfed all thii Styleses a-comin' to meetin' except Polly, who stayed to home ; so I waits till they all goes in, and then cuts off, hot-foot, for the river, and knocks at the dcor of the house, tho' I actilly believe my heart beat the loudest of th*^ two. Well, when I goes in, there sot Polly Styles that was, your mother that is, by the fire, a-readin' of a book. *' Goin' to meetin' ?" says I. " I guess not,** said she, " are you ?" " I guess not," said I. Then there was a pause. We both looked into the fire. I don't know what she was a-thinkin' on ; but I know what I was, and that wa.<5, what to say next. " Polly," said I. •• Did you speak 1" said she. " I — I — I — '* it stuck in my throat. "Oh!" said she, "I thought you spoke." Then we sot and looked into the coals again. At last she said, "What couple was that was called last Lord's-day ?" "I don't mind," said I, " but I know who I wish it was." *' Who ?" said she. "Why, me and somebody else." "Then why do n*t you and somebody else get called, then ?** said she. PACING A WOMAN. 249 ;'l ♦' I — I — I — " it stuck again in my throat. If I had n't a-been so bothercrl advisin* of myself, I could have got it out, J do suppose; but jist as I was a-goin' to speak, I couldn't think of any words. "But now's your time — it's a grand chance." " Arter a wliile," says she ; "father will bo to home soon, I am a-thinkin' ; meetin' must bo near out now." ♦' Likes as not," says I. Presently, up jumps Polly, and says, " Entertainin' this, ain't it ? s'posin' you read me a sarmon, it will give us somethin' to talk about." And afore I could say a word agin it, she put a book into my hand, and said, "Begin," and threw herself down on the setteo. Well, I hadn't read a page hardly afore she was asleep, and then I laid down i he book ; and says I to myself, says I, "What shall I do next?" and I had jist got a speech ready for her when she woke up, and rubbin' her eyes, said, " I am 'most afeerd I gave you a chance of a forfeit by nappin' arter that fashion ; but, aa luck would have it, you was too busy readin'. I '11 take care not to do so agin. Go on, if you please, sir." Well, I began to read a second time, and had n't gone on above a few minutes afore a little wee snore showed me she was asleep agin. "Now," says I to myself, "arter such an invitation as she gin about the gloves, I am darned if I don't try for the forfeit while she is asleep."' — 'I did n't give no such invitation at all about the gloves,' says mother; 'don't believe one word of it, it's jist an invention of his own. Men like to boast, and your father is the greatest bragger livin' out of the twenty thousand galls that was at Bunker's hill.' — 'Polly,' says father, 'it's nateral to deny it, but it's true for all that. Well, says I to myself, says I, " Suppose it was the devil or a Britisher that was there, 11 Mil! 31 II ':! il ill! 250 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. w ¥i 'f 'f HI ■'% i; Sargeant Slick, what would you do? Why," says I to myself for answer, " I would jist shut my eyes and rush right at it ;" and with that I plucked up courage, and run right at the settee full split. Oh, dear! the settee warn't strong enough.' — * Lawful heart !' says mother, ' what a fib ! did you ever ? well, I never did hear the beat of that ; it 's all made out of whole cloth, I declare.' — ' The settee warn't strong enough,' said father. ' It broke down with an awful smash, your mother, Polly Styles that was, kickin' and screamin' *ill all was blue agin. Her comb broke, and out came her hair, and she looked as wild as a h.awk. " Gloves !" says I. " You shan't," says she. " I will," says I. " • In arms a-strugglin' for their liberty,' " says her father, who jiet then come in from meetiu'. Polly squeeled like a rat in a trap, and cut and run out of the room full chisel.' — ' Dear, dear,' said mother, ' what will he say next 1 I wonder.' — ' And then the old man and me stood facin' one another like two cats in a garret. *' ' "An accident," says I. " So I perceive," says he. •* Nothin' but lookin' for a pair of gloves," bays I. " As you and tho nine galls did at the trenches at Bunker's hill," said he, " for tho blankit."— " Now, Friend Styles," said I. " Now, Friend Slick," said he. " It warn't my fault," says I. " Certainly not," says he ; " a pretty gall at home, family out ; used to twenty thousand galls in war, it 's nateral to make love in peace ; do you take ?" — " Well," says I, " it does look awkward, I confess." — " Very," says he. " Well, Slick," says he, " the long and short of the matter is, you must either marry or fight." Says I, " Friend Styles, as for fightin', Bunker's hill, Mud creek, and Peach Or- chard, are enough for any one man, in all conscience ; but ^""Tm PACING A WOMAN. 251 I Ml jnnny as soon as you pleawp, anfl the sooner the better." — " So I tihouhl thnik," said he. " No, no, Neighbor Styles," said I, " you don't do me justice, you don't, indeed ; I never had the courar j to put the question yet." ' — • Well, if that do n't cap all,' says mother ; ' that beats the bugs ; it does fairly take the rag off.' — ' "A man," says Mr. Styles, " that has nine ladies in the trenches with him all night, in arms a-strugglin* for liberty, without a blankit to cover them, to talk of not havin' courage to put the question, is rather too good. Will you marry ?" — '• I will," says I, '• and only jist too happy to " " You shall be called then this blessed arternoon," said he ; " so stay dine, Son Slick." Well, to make a long story short, the thing turned out better than I expected, and we were spliced in little better than half no time. That was the first and laot kiss I ever had afore we was married, Polly was so everlastin' coy ; but arter- ward she nev — ' * Not one word more,' says mother, ' to your peril, not one word more,' and she got up and shook her knittiu' at him quite spunky. ' Most o' that are story was an invention of your own, jist a mere brag, and I won't hear no more. I don't mind a joke when we are alone, but I won't hear nothin' said afore that are boy that lessens his respect for his mother the leastest grain, so there now.' — • Well, well,' says father, ' have it your own way, Polly, dear ; I have had my say, and I would n't ryie you for the world, fi)r this I will say, a most an excellent wife, depend- able friend, and whiskin' housekeeper, you have made to me, that 's sartain. No man do n't want no better, that 's a fact. She had n't no car for music, Sam, but she had a cap- ital eye for dirt, and for poor folks that's much better. No one never seed as much diit in wy liouse as a fly couldn't II' 1 1 I:, . 252 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. i'\ brush off with his wings. Boston galls may boast of its spinnetts, and their ^yters and their eyetalian airs, and their ears for music ; but give me the gall, I say, that has an eye for dirt, for she is the gall for my money. But to eventuate my story: when the weddin' was over, Mr. Styles, that was your grandfather that is, come up to me, and tappin' me on the shoulder, says he, " Slick," says he, ♦' everybody knew you was a hero in the field, but I actilly did not think you was such a devil among the galls. Nine of them in the trenches at one lime, in arms, a-strugglin' for their liberty, and so on. You must give over them pranks now du are married." — This is all very well as a joke,' says father; 'but, Sam, my son,' says he, 'them that have seed sarvice — and I flatter myself I have seed as much as most men, at Bunker's hill. Mud creek, and Peach Or- chard, et sarterar, as the Boston merchants say, veterans I jnean — will tell you, that to face an inimy is nothin', but it is better to face the devil than io face a womany* CHAPTER XXI. THE ATTACHE. This being the last day at my disposal at New York, I went on board the " Great Western" and secured a passage for myself and Mr. Slick ; and, as there were still several vacant berths, had the gratification to find there was room for my worthy friend Mr. Hop-ewell, if he should incline to accompany us, and arrive in tinu; to embark. I th(>n I, Hi THE ATTACHE. 263 sauntered up through the Broadway to a coach-stand, and drove to the eeveral residences of my kind and agreeable friends to bid them adieu. New York is decidedly the first city of the Western world, and is alike distinguished for the beauty of its situation and the hospitality of its in- habitants. I left it not without gieat regi'et, and shall al- Avays retain the most pleasing recollection of it. In this respect, I understand I am by no means singular, as no stranger, bringing proper introductions, is ever permitted to feel he is alone in a foreign land. Sdon after I returned to the hotel, Mr. Slick entered, with a face filled with im- portance. " Squire," said he, " I have jist received a letter that will astonish you, and if you was to guess from July to etarnity you wouldn't hit on what it's about. I must orty i am pleased, and that 's a fact ; but what puzzles me is, who sot it a-goin'. Now, tell me candid, have you been writin to the British embassador about me since you canje V* — " No," I replied, " I have not the honor oi his acquaint- ance. I never saw him, and never had any communication with him on any subject whatever." — " Weli, it passes then," said he, "that's sartain ; I haven't axed no one nothcr, and yet folks don''t often get things crammed down their throats that way without say in', ' By your leave, stran- ger.' I han't got no interest ; I am like the poor crittur at the pool, I han't got no one to put me in, and another feller always steps in afore me. If Martin Van has done this his- self be must liave had some motive, for he han't got these things to throw away ; he wants all the offices he has got as sops to his voters. Patriotism is infarnal hungry, and as savage as Old Scratch if it tan't fed. If you want to tamo it, you must treat it as Van Amburg does bis lions, II! I i!i i N M l.i . I: 254 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 1i \{-i IL , 1 n^ 1 » ■' ■I: keep its belly full. I wonder whether he is arter the vote of Slickviile, or whether he is only doin' the patron to have sunthiu' to brag on. I'd like to know this, for I am not in the habit of barkin' up the wrong tree, if I can find the right one. Well, well, it don't matter much, arter all, what he meant, so as he does what 's right and pretty. The berth is jist the dandy, that 's a fact. It will jist suit me to a T. I have had my own misgivin's about goin' with you, squire, I tell, for the British are so infarnal proud that clockmakin' sounds everlastin' nosey to them, and I don't calculate in a gineral way to let any man look scorncy to me, much less talk so ; now this fixes the thing jist about right, and gives it the finishin' touch. It 'a grand ! I *ve got an appointment, and, I must say, I feel kinder proud of it, as I never axed for it. It 's about the most honorable thing Martin Van ever did since he became public. Tit or no tit, that 's the tatur ! and I '11 maintain it, too. I'll jist read you a letter from Salter Fisher, an envoy, or sunthin' or another of that kind, in the secretary of state's office. I believe he is the gentleman that carries their notes and messages : — % " PRIVATE. " My DEAR Slick : — " Herewith I have the honor to enclose you your com- mission as an attache to our legation to the court of Saint Jimses, Buckin'hanij with an official letter announcin' the pre ident's nomination and senate's vote of concurrence. Martin ordered these to be put into the mail, but I have taken the chance to slip this into the paper-cover. It is the policy of our government to encourage nntivc authors il, THE ATTACHE. 255 and reward merit ; and it makes me feel good to find your productions have made tlie name of this great and growin* rei)nblic better known among Europeans, and we expect a considerabls some, thnt this appointment will enable you to exalt it still further, and that the name of Slick will bo associated with that of our t^ages and heroes in after-ages. This commission will place you on afootin' with the princes and nobles of England, give you a free ticket of admission to the palace, and enable you to study human nctur' under new phases, associations, and developments ; that is, if thar is any natur' left in such critturs. With such opportunities, the president expects you will not fail to sustain the honor of the nation on all occasions, demanding and enforcing your true place in society, at the top of the pot, and our exalted rank at foreign courts as the greatest, freest, and most onlightened nation now existin*. It would be advisa- ble, it a favorable opportunity offers, to draw the attention of the queen to the subject of her authors and travellers — carelessly like, as if it weren't done a-purpose, for it don't comport with dignity to appear too sensitive, but jist merely to regret the prac/Zcc of hirin' authors to abuse us, in order to damp the admiration of Europeans of our glorious insti- tutions. " We have every reason to believe that Captain Hall received five thousand pounds for this purpose, and Mrs. Trollope the same sum ; that Miss Martineau is promised a royal garter (it 's a pity she warn't hanged with it), and Captain Marry at to be made a knight of the royal baths. Tliis conduct is on worthy a great people like the English, and onjiist and insultin' to us ; and you might suggest to her royal highness that tiiis n\ean, low-lived, dirty conduct i!'^ i I lii i! 256 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. l-'-m i 1 II lii I i\ ' '1 ' will defeat itself, and tliat notliin' short of kickin' out her ministry will be accepted as an apology by the American people. You might say to her ladyship, that the city arti- cles in the Times newspaper are very offensive to us, and that, tho', individually, we despise such low blackguard isms, yet, collectively, the honor of the nation demands sat- isfaction. That her government pays for their insartion, there can be no doubt ; and the paltry trick of Mr. Mel- burne bribin' opposition papers to let 'em in, is an artifice that may cover the rascality to ignorant British, but can't draw the wool over our eyes. If you have no opportunity to say this to her, tell Albert Gotha, her bridegroom, to tell her plainly, if she don't look sharp, we '11 retaliate and hunt red foxes for hct in Canada, as we did two winters ago. " Caution is necessary in conversation, in speakin* of our army, navy, and resources of war, for the ministers will pump you if they can. Boastin' without crackin' is the true course. For instance, if war is talked of, regret the smallness of our navy ; for, if they had to contend with France and England at the same time, the issue would be extremely doubtful. That is a clear intimation we could lick either, and ain't afraid of both, and yet don't say so. So, in speakin' of the army, deprecate a war, and say, * marchin* one hundred and fifty thousand men into Canada would interfere with intarnal improvements by raisin' the price of labor.' It is this species of delicate brag that best becomes a high functionary. •* It is not to be doubted you will return as you go, a republican at heart, and that future honors await you. Your name is now well and favorably known, and, what is better, is popular, as you may infer when I tell jou that I ' I THE ATTACHE. 267 the very pen with which this is wrote is a ' Sam Slick pen.' The highest gift in the hands of man, the presidential chair, shonld now and henceforth be the object of your ambition. We look forward with much gratification to your delinea- tion of English character, their exclusiveness, their self-suf- ficiency, their stronghold of slavery — the factories — their overfed clergy, overpaid officials, and antiquated institu- tions — their defenceless condition, half-manned navy, and radical army — their proud and dissolute aristocracy — their turbulent and factious commons, and brutally-igno- rant peasantry. I estimate, when they hear of your ap- pointment, they will feel considerable streaked, for they must know you won't spare them. " While you are visitin' among the gentry and nobility, you might keep a journal on the sly, and send it out by the steamers to some leadin' papers, which would be killin' two birds with one stone, livin' free of cost, and makin' money out of them at the same time. Where you can, give the real names in full ; where it ain't safe, for fear of a scuffle, say, ' Duke A ,' * Lord P ,' ' Lady C ,' and occa- sionally ' The q , told me.' It sounds well, this, and shows your standin' is high a«d is peakannt. Anecdotes of high life sell well if they are racy. Then collect them together into a book onder some takin', onpretending title, as • Mems of a Mum,' or * Scrawlin's afore Bedtime,* or some such name. The proceeds will enable you to cut a better dash to court ; only don't tell 'em you are a-doin' of it to England. No man entertains a spy if he can help it. • A word to the wise will always suffice .* This will pave the way well for your progress to the presiden- tial chair. While on this subject, it might not be amiss to 11* I I !: "fe ■X 258 SAM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. T! f I ! i ■ i ' bint a change of party might occasion a change of office- holflors ; and that, the' too strong to require any aid for our- selves, we hope for your family ticket in Slickville and its vicinity, to enable us to keep you in your present honorable position. Without this berth, you would find the first cir- cles as stiff as an ongreased mast ; this appointment will ile that beautiful, and luake you slide as easy rb on well- slushed ways. Avail it. Sustain the honor of t^e nation, and paint the name of Sam Slick indelibly on the dial-plate of fame, that the finger of Time may point it out to admirin' posterity, to all etarnity. " Yours to command, «' Salter Fisher. i "P. S. — I will give you a wrinkle on your ho.ii that's worth bavin'. Should our great gun be absent and you left in London, recollect we do as the British do, give no instruc- tions we can help ; write what must be wrote so it will read any way, and leave subordinates to incur all responsibility of actin' and readin'. Meet 'em in their own way by referrin' all home, and puttin' the saddle on the right horse in spite of him. Let the^shafter do his own work. Do you take ? " S. F." As soon as the clockmaker had read this epistle, he observed, in a half-soliloquizing, h-ilf-conversational tone, "An attache. Well, it's a statiju of great dignity too, ain't it ? It makes me feel kinder narvous and whimble- cropped, for I have got to sustain a new character, and act a new part in the play of life. To dine at the palace with kings, queens, and princes; what a pretty how-d'ye-do that is, ain't it 1 Won't it be tall feedin' at queen's table ? THE ATTACHE. 269 that 'r all ; and I am a rael whale at ducks and gveen peas. Lord, I am afeerd I fihall foel plaguy awkward too, with a coiut-dresfi on. I once seed a colony chap rigged out in a suit he hired of a Jew, for lerec-day, and I am teetotally extinctified if he didn't look for all the world like the baboon that rides the pony to the circus. He was small potatoes and few in a hill, that feller, I tell you. He looked as mean as a crittur with one eye knocked out and t'other a-squint. He seemed scared at himself, as the bull did when he got opposite the lookin'-glass. Heavens and airth ! if the dogs had only seed him, they'd a-gi'n him a chase for it, I know ; the way they 'd a-foxed him and a-larned him fleas ain't lobsters, would have been a caution to monkeys to hold up their tails afore they shut to the door arter them. A crittur with a good nose would put up some tamal queer birds in the long stubble at St. Jimses, that's a fact. Yes, I 'm afeerd I shall feel monstrous onconvenient, and as if I wa'n't jist made to measure. Oarryin' a sword so as to keep it from stickin' atween your legs and throwin' you doAvn, ain't no easy matter nother ; but practice makes parfect, I do suppose. Well, I vow, our noble institutions do open avenues to ambition, and merit to the humblest citizens too, don't they] Now, tell me candid, squire, do n't it make your mouth water ? How would you like Mr. Melburne to take you by the seat of your trowsers with one hand, and the scruff of your neck with the other, and give you a chuck up-stairs that way, for nothin' ? for he is jist the boy that can do it ; but catch him at it, that's all : no indeed, not he, for breeches ain't petticoats, nor never was except in Turkey and Egypt ; and when kissin' goes by favor, who would look at a dispisable colonist ? Well, 260 BAM BUCK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. p; ri l!^f. m 1: if ml i Martin Van has done that to me, and he is a gentleman, every inch of him, and eats his bread buttered on both sides. "Only to think, now, Sam Slick, the clockmaker, should be a member of our legation to the greatest nation in the world next to us. Lord, how it would make poor dear old mother stare, if she could only lift herself up ont of the grave, and open her eyes. It would make her scratch her head and snicker, / know ; for only thinkin' of it kinder gives me the peadoddles myself. What on airth do they talk about, I wonder, when they get together to the palace, them great folks and bigbugs. Clocks, I do suppose, must 'be sunk, and bosses and tradin' in the small way too ; it wouldn't convene with dignity, that sort o' gab. One good thing, I've seed a considerable of the world in my time, and don't feel overly daunted by no man. Politics I do know in a gineral way, as well as most men ; colonies and colony chaps, too, I know better than any crittur I 'd u eet, and no mistake. Pictur' likeness is a thing I won't turn my back on to no one, nor bronzin', nor gildin' nother, for that 's part of the clock blsness. Agriculture I was brought up to, and gunnin' and trappin' I was used to since I was a boy. Po- etry is the worst ; if the galls to the palace begin in that line, I 'm throwed out as sure as a gun, for I shall hang fire, or only burn primin', for I ha' n't even got two fingers of a charge in me, and that's damaged powder too: I never could bear it. I never see a poet yet that warn't as poor as Job's turkey, or a church-mouse ; or a she-poet that her shoes didn't go down to heel, and her stockin's look as if they wanted darnin' ; for it's all cry and little wool with poets, as the devil said when he sheared his liogs. History m THK ATTACHE. 261 I do know a little of, for I larned Woodbri(l{;;'-i'8 Epitome to school, and tlie Bible, and the history of our Revolu- tion I know by heart, from Paradise to Lexin'ton, and from Bunker's hill to Independence. But I do suppose I must rub up a little on the passage. Music I don't fear much, for I rather pride myself on my ear and my voice ; and psalmody I larned to singin'-schools ; so operas and theatres will soon set me right on that. But dancin' is what 1 can take the shine off most folks in. I was reck- oned the supplest boy in all Slickville. Many 's the time I have danced ' Possum up a gum-tree' at a quiltin' frolic or huskin' party, with a tumblerfull of cider on my head, and never spilt a drop — I have, upon my soul." He then got up and executed several evolutions upon the floor which would have puzzled an opera-dancer to imitate ; and then said, with an air of great self-satisfaction, " Show me any lord to England that could do that, and I '11 give him leave to brag, that's all. Oh, dear! I'll whirl them maids of honor to the palace round and round so fast in a waltz, no livin' soul can see me a-kissin' of them. I 've done it to Phebe Hopewell afore her father's face, and he never knowed it, tho' he was lookin' on the whole blessed time — I hope I may be shot if I ha' n't. She actilly did love them waltzes, the wickedest I ever did see. Lick ! there is some fun in that are, ain't they 1 It ain't often they get a smack from rael right-down, good, genuwine Yankee lips, sweet fed on corn and molasses, I know. If they only like them half as well as dear little Phebe did, I 'm a made man, that's all. The only thing in dancin', like boatin*, is to keepin' a straight keel. That's the rael secret. P'raps the best way, arter all, is, I believe, at first to play mum. I '' !i i <' IM ill! 262 8AM SLICK'S SAYINGS AND DOINGS. ^1- ■ pay little, nnd hear everything, and then do jist like other folks. Yes, that's the plan ; for liquor that's well corked is always the be«t up. * An attache T well, that sounds dreadful pretty, too, don't it? Then, as for dress, I guess I'll wait till I reach London, that my coat may be the rael go, and up to the notch ; but the button I '11 get now, for 'twould look shockin' liandHum, and more like the rael thing. Yes, I'll jist step into the chamber and slick up my hair with a taller candle, and put my betterment coat into a silk pocket-handkerchief, and take it down to Hellgo and Funk the tailors (I knowed 'em to Boston), and get the legation-button put on, for it will command respect on board the Great Western. I larned that from brother Josiah ; he always travels with several trunks ; he says it brings the best rooms and best attendance at inns always, for they think you must be somebody to have so much luggage. He told me as a fact, they paid carriage very well. * An atta'he ! r *' Well, it's funny, too, ain't it ? It sounds rael jam, that. I must say I feel kinder obleeged to j\rr. Van Burin for this good turn he has done me. I always thought he was very much of the gentleman in his manners, and the likeliest man in the states, and now I swear by him. Yes, locofoco as he is, I go the whole figur' for Martin Van, that 's a fact. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or mudscraper, I 'm his man ; I'll go in for him up to the handle, and so will all us Slickville folks, for in elections we pull, like inions, all on one string, and stick to our man like burrs to sheep's-wool. And now, squire," said he, jumping up and taking me by the hand — " and now, my friend, shake flippers along with me, and congratulate me. When I return from the tailor's, t i 1 THE ATTACHE. 263 I shall be a new man. You will then meet the honorable Samuel Slick, an * attache^ to our legation to the court of Saint Jimses, Victoria's Gotha. And him you will have as a feller-pnysenger. You had sense enough not to be ashamed of me when I was a-hoein' my way as a tradin'- man, and I won't go for to cut you now, tho' you are nothin' but a down-east provincial. All I ask of you is, keep dark about the clocks ; we '11 sink them, if you please ; for, by gum ! you 've seen the last of Sam SHck the clock- maker. And now, squire, I am your humble servant to command. "The Attachb." THE EPJD. li A 1( A BOOK OF UNIVERSAL KNOWLED^^^E. lUS^r PUBLISHED, THE MOST USEFUL AND EXTRAORDINARY VOLUME Ever yet issued from the Pres.i, as it comprises all the ei-'seiico ('(uitiii!.! ^l in a Dozen of any other Hooks of Information that have hitherto bceu printed. THE TITLE OF THIS WOXDEKFUI, BOOK. IS AS F01-1,0\V,< ' INQUIRE WITHIN FOR ANY THING YOU WISH TO KNOW; Oil OVER 0,700 FACTS FOR THE PEOPLE. A Large Volume of A2Q ■pages— Cloth, gilt — Price%\. Sent free of Postage. This Book, as its title imports, will give you correct informatioa on every possible subject that you ever heard or thought of ! It tells you liow to cook a dinner — to cure a sick friend, or cut an acquaintance— to get up a dinner party, or dine abroad — to play at cards, at chess, or any other popular game, — whether you wish to establish yourself in life accord- ing to the rules of etiquette, — to get up a sumptuous entree for the (finncr tattle, or arrange a plain dinner— to fold fancy napkins — to start husmiss — to make money— to dress with taste — to conduct a courtship — to tie a/,w kind of a knot — to get married — to give an evening party to your I'l^mfs — to behave well in company — to keep house properly — to dance — to make ornamental vases, by the new art of Poichomauie, or Wax work, and other fancy employments for the ladies : to establish acquaintances accoiding to the rules of etiquette — to enjoy an hour at curious puzzles and arith- metical questions— io do up a neat parcel — to relieve the invalid — to ac- quaint yourself with the technical terms in literature, law, and medicine — in short, to Tio every useful thing that can be thrught of or imogincd, whether at home or abroad, or among your friends, or in your busines>>\ or on your farm,, or in your garden, or at & public meeting, or at a prirotc assembly. It contains tables of all weights and measures ; Interest 'I'a/iirs from $1 to $10,000 atsix and seven percent, besides innumerable ta'olts on Interesting and Curious Subjects. It gives complete directions how to wash, starch, andiron — how to keep the eves, hair, teeth and compiciion rn perfect order — how to punctuate, spell and write correctly — how to (.07/1- po*e a// A:iwi* 0/ ^en, perpetually embarrassed for the want of small facts and small change. This volume supplies the Ready Coin of Conversation, In the shape of SCIENCE FOR THE MILLION, and makes even the neglected in early studies feel quite at lioine upon every topic likely to be discussed within the ordinary range of the social circle. It imparts Practlenl Information on tlic Subject of Practical Facts. It may be denominated, Uricnce made easy, or a world of ua^ul every-day learn- ing condensed into a volume for your pocket ! Is a handsome I'Jino. volume of .",56 pages, printed on fine j)apcr, bound in cloth, gill, and embellished with a largo number ot Wood Cuts, illustrating the various subjects treatcdof. PBICE3 ONE DOLLAB. iflr* Copies mailed to any address in the United States or Canada, free of postage. Send your Cash orders to DICK &> FITZG.KRALD, Publishers, No. 18 Ann Street, New York. i I t LIVE AN® LEARN; A GUIDE FOU ALL WHO \S'l:-,ri TO SPEAK AND WRITE COREECTLY: particularly intended aa a T]ook of Keference for the 8o|i!tir>!! 'jf Di.Ticr.Itiii coiiuiected with (Jriimraiir, C'ompositiou, Punctuatiou, Ac, witli Exjilauations of Latin and French words and Phrases of fiequent ncciineiicu in Xewnpa- pers, Reviews, Periodicais, and Books in general containing Examples of O N E T II U S A \ 1) M I S T A K E S of Daily Occurrence, in bpeaking. Writing and Pronunciation. Together with Detailed lustructi iis for Writing for the Press, and forms o! Articles in the various department* of Newspaper Litonit'Me. '210 jiagee, hound in Cloth, l2mo, price 50 cents, and sent tt) any address J~tc oj postage. '• Live ami Learn" ie a most usttnl hook, designed as a Guide to Gram mar, Compositi.-> 'N-.'N.' Works for the Ladies. THE LADIES' GUIDE TO BEAUTY. A COMPANION rOR THE TOILET. Paper 25 cts. Cloth. 37.i " Oontiiiiiing Practcal Advice on Improving the Complexion, the Hair, the Hands, the Korni. thu Teeth, the Kyes, tlie Feet, the Features, so as to insiire the liijjhest d''^reo of peifectiou of which they are suscepti'lo. And also upwards of One Hui.- liied Ueiipos for various Cohniotics Oils. PomnUcs, etc., etc., being tliM rtftult of a I'.iuibination of I'ractii al and Scientific i^kill. Uy Sir James Clark. Private Physi- ciiiii to Queen Victoria Revise i and edited by an American Physician and Cbeinist. Pric(! 25 cents, and we send it free of postage. LADIES' GUIDE TO CROCHET BY MRS. ANN S. STEVENS. Copiously illustrated with original and very choice Degignsin Crochet, etc , print- ed in colors, B't|iarate from Ithe letter-press, on tinted paper. Also with numerous wood-cuts printed with the letter-press, explanatory of terms, etc. Oblong, pp. 117, beautifully bound in extra cloth, gilt. Price 75 cents. This is by far the best work on the .''ubject of Grocliet yet published. There are liloiity of other books containiiig Crochet pattern.s. but the difllculty is, they do not hiivethe neci'ssary in.structioiis how to Moik tlicin. ntet ,ire. then fore, useless. This work, however su|iplie8 tl'.is much felt and glaring deliciency, and has the terms in I'rochit 80 clearly oxplai' ed that any Cmchet pattern, liDwever difHcult, may be worked with ease. Copies of the above mailed to any address in the United States frco of postage. 5 .1! SAM SLICK'S NEW WORK. " Buy it, and if you dou't KukH, then there is no laugh in you."— Ohio Statesman JUST PUBLISHED, NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE A Sequel to " Wise Saws ; or, Sum Slick in Search of a Wife." Bj the Author of " Sam Slick In Search of a ^Vlfe,'* " Sam Slick In Kngland," " Sam Slick's Sajrlngs and Dolnga," tfcc. In Oflf Elegant Volume, neatly bound in Muslin ; Price 75 Cts.—in Paper 60 Cts, Extract from tJDe 33reface: * * * ♦ ' Fun has no limits. Tt is like the human race and face ; ther-? is a family likeness among all the species, but they all differ. New combinations pro- duce new varieties. A man who has an eye for fun sees it in everything. * * • T^ere is a work called ' The Horse,' and another • The Cow,' and ' The Dog,' and so on ; why should'nt there be one on ' The Galls ?' They are about the most diffl- cult to choose and to manage of any created critter, and yet there aint any de- pendable directions about pickin' and choosin' of them. Is it any wonder then so many fellows get taken in when they go for to swap hearts with them ? Besides; any one can find a gentleman that keeps a livery stable to ge^him a horse to order, but who can say, ' This is the Gall for your money!' " Introtluctory Letter, Chat with the President, Ste;ilinB a Sjieech, Everytniiig in General, and Nothing in Particular, The black Hawk ; or Life ill a h'ore-and-Auer, Old Blowhard, The Widow's Son, Tlie Language of Mackerel, The Best-natured Man in the World, CONTENTS, The Bait-Box. The Water-Glass; or a Day- Dream of Life, Old Sarsaparilla Pills. Our ("oloiiies and Sailors^ The House that Hope Built The House -without Hope, An Old Friend with a New Face, Chat in a Calm, The Sable Island Ghost, The Witch of Eskisoony, Jericho beyond Jordan, Three Truths for One Lie, Aunt Thankful &herRooiM A Single Idea, An Excellent Plan of Re- form, Goose Van Dam, A Hot Day, A Pic-Nic at La Haire, A Narrow Escape. . Published by DICK & FITZGERALD, 18 Ann St., N. Y. And for sale by all the princijml Bookiellers. r.Y. Hu- I t 1